Part 57 (1/2)
”Think how you hate him and how richly your hate will be fed. First disgraced unjustly, he, one of the best soldiers and bravest captains in the army, and then hacked to death by cutthroats in the doorway of his own house. What more could you want?”
”Nothing,” answered Caleb. ”Only the man isn't dead yet. Sometimes the Fates have strange surprises for us mortals, friend Saturius.”
”Dead? He will be dead soon enough.”
”Good. You shall have the rest of the money when I have seen his body.
No, I don't want any bungling and that's the best way to make certain.”
”I wonder,” thought Saturius, as he departed out of the office and this history, ”I wonder how I shall manage to get the balance of my fee before they have my Jewish friend by the heels. But it can be arranged--doubtless it can be arranged.”
When he had gone, Caleb, who, it would seem, also had things which needed attention and felt that time pressed, took pen and wrote a short letter. Next he summoned a clerk and gave orders that it was to be delivered two hours after sunset--not before.
Meanwhile, he enclosed it in an outer wrapping so that the address was not seen. This done, he sat still for a time, his lips moving, almost as though he were engaged in prayer. Then, seeing that it was the hour of sunset, he rose, wrapped himself in a long dark cloak, such as was worn by Roman officers, and went out.
CHAPTER XXIX
HOW MARCUS CHANGED HIS FAITH
Caleb was not the only one who heard the evil tidings of the s.h.i.+p _Luna_; it came to the ears of the bishop Cyril also, since little of any moment pa.s.sed within the city of Rome which the Christians did not know.
Like Caleb, he satisfied himself of the truth of the matter by an interview with the captain of the _Imperatrix_. Then with a sorrowful heart he departed to the prison near the Temple of Mars. Here the warden told him that Marcus wished to see no one, but answering ”Friend, my business will not wait,” he pushed past the man and entered the room beyond. Marcus was standing up in the centre of it, in his hand a drawn sword of the short Roman pattern, which, on catching sight of his visitor, he cast upon the table with an exclamation of impatience. It fell beside a letter addressed to ”The Lady Miriam in Tyre. To be given into her own hand.”
”Peace be with you,” said the bishop, searching his face with his quiet eyes.
”I thank you, friend,” answered Marcus, smiling strangely, ”I need peace, and--seek it.”
”Son,” asked the bishop, ”what were you about to do?”
”Friend,” answered Marcus, ”If you desire to know, I was about to fall upon my sword. One more minute and I should have been dead. They brought it me with the cloak and other things. It was thoughtful of them, and I guessed their meaning.”
Cyril lifted the sword from the table and cast it into a corner of the room.
”G.o.d be thanked,” he said, ”Who led my feet here in time to save you from this sin. Why, because it has pleased Him to take her life, should you seek to take your own?”
”Her life?” said Marcus. ”What dreadful words are these. Her life! Whose life?”
”The life of Miriam. I came to tell you. She is drowned upon the seas with all her company.”
For a moment Marcus stood swaying to and fro like a drunken man. Then he said:
”Is it so indeed? Well, the more reason that I should make haste to follow her. Begone and leave me to do the deed alone,” and he stepped towards the sword.
Cyril set his foot upon the s.h.i.+ning blade.
”What is this madness?” he asked. ”If you did not know of Miriam's death, why do you desire to kill yourself?”
”Because I have lost more than Miriam. Man, they have robbed me of my honour. By the decree of t.i.tus, I, Marcus, am branded as a coward. Yes, t.i.tus, at whose side I have fought a score of battles--t.i.tus, from whom I have warded many a blow--has banished me from Rome.”
”Tell me of this thing,” said Cyril.