Part 12 (2/2)

”How could such a thing prove my words?” she asked indignantly.

”I do not know and I do not care. Kiss me once and I will believe further that the peasants of these parts are all liars. I feel myself beginning to believe it.”

”And if I will not?”

”Then I am afraid I must refer the matter to a competent tribunal at Jerusalem.”

”Nehushta, Nehushta, you have heard. What shall I do?”

”What shall you do?” said Nehushta drily. ”Well, if you like to give the n.o.ble Marcus a kiss, I shall not blame you overmuch or tell on you. But if you do not wish it, then I think you would be a fool to put yourself to shame to save Caleb.”

”Yet, I will do it--and to save Caleb only,” said Miriam with a sob, and she bent towards him.

To her surprise Marcus drew back, placing his hand before his face.

”Forgive me,” he said. ”I was a brute who wished to buy kisses in such a fas.h.i.+on. I forgot myself; your beauty is to blame, and your sweetness and everything that is yours. I pray,” he added humbly, ”that you will not think the worse of me, since we men are frail at times. And now, because you ask me, though I have no right, I grant your prayer. Mayhap those witnesses lied; at least, the man's sin, if sin there be, can be excused. He has naught to fear from me.”

”No,” broke in Nehushta, ”but I think you have much to fear from him; and I am sorry for that, my lord Marcus, for you have a n.o.ble heart.”

”It may be so; the future is on the knees of the G.o.ds, and that which is fated will befall. My Lady Miriam, I, your humble servant and friend, wish you farewell.”

”Farewell,” she answered. ”Yes, Nehushta is right, you have a n.o.ble heart”; and she looked at him in such a fas.h.i.+on that it flashed across his mind that were he to proffer that request of his again, it might not be refused. But Marcus would not do it. He had tasted of the joy of self-conquest, who hitherto, after the manner of his age and race, had denied himself little, and, as it seemed to him, a strange new power was stirring in his heart--something purer, higher, n.o.bler, than he had known before. He would cherish it a while.

Of all that were spoken there in the garden, Caleb, the watcher, could catch no word. The speakers did not raise their voices and they stood at a distance, so that although he craned his head forward as far as he dared in the shadow of the trees, sharp and trained as they were, naught save a confused murmur reached his ears. But if these failed him, his eyes fed full, so that he lost no move or gesture. It was a pa.s.sionate love scene, this was clear, for Nehushta stood at a little distance with her back turned, while the pair poured out their sweet speeches to each other. Then at length, as he had expected, came the climax. Yes, oh!

shameless woman--they were embracing. A mist fell upon Caleb's eyes, in which lights flashed like red-hot swords lifting and smiting, the blood drummed in his ears as though his raging, jealous heart would burst.

He would kill that Roman now on the spot. Miriam should never kiss him more--alive.

Already Caleb had drawn the short-sword from its hiding-place in his ample robe; already he had stepped out from the shadow of the trees, when of a sudden his reason righted itself like a s.h.i.+p that has been laid over by a furious squall, and caution came back to him. If he did this that faithless guardian, Nehushta, who without doubt had been bought with Roman gold, would come to the a.s.sistance of her patron and thrust her dagger through his back, as she well could do. Or should he escape that dagger, one or other of them would raise the Essenes on him, and he would be given over to justice. He wished to slay, not to be slain. It would be sweet to kill the Roman, but if he himself were laid dead across his body, leaving Miriam alive to pa.s.s to some other man, what would he be advantaged? Presently they must cease from their endearments; presently his enemy would return as he had come, and then he might find his chance. He would wait, he would wait.

Look, they had parted; Miriam was gliding back to the house, and Marcus came towards him, walking like a man in his sleep. Only Nehushta stood where she was, her eyes fixed upon the ground as though she were reasoning with herself. Still like a man in a dream, Marcus pa.s.sed him within touch of his outstretched hand. Caleb followed. Marcus opened the door, went out of it, and pulled it to behind him. Caleb caught it in his hand, slipped through and closed it. A few paces down the wall--eight or ten perhaps--was another door, by which Marcus entered the garden of the guest-house. As he turned to shut this, Caleb pushed in after him, and they were face to face.

”Who are you?” asked the Roman, springing back.

Caleb, who by now was cool enough, closed the door and shot the bolt.

Then he answered, ”Caleb, the son of Hilliel, who wishes a word with you.”

”Ah!” said Marcus, ”the very man, and, as usual, unless the light deceives me, in an evil humour. Well, Caleb the son of Hilliel, what is your business with me?”

”One of life and death, Marcus the son of Emilius,” he answered, in such a tone that the Roman drew his sword and stood watching him.

”Be plain and brief, young man,” he said.

”I will be both plain and brief. I love that lady from whom you have just parted, and you also love, or pretend to love, her. Nay, deny it not; I have seen all, even to your kisses. Well, she cannot belong to both of us, and I intend that in some future day she shall belong to me if arm and eye do not fail me now. Therefore one of us must die to-night.”

Marcus stepped back, overcome not with fear, but with astonishment.

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