Out of the Triangle Part 7

It seemed to Heraklas that there came to him, also, Christ's solemn question. With awe-struck lips, Heraklas whispered, out of a heart that craved its answer, "Who is he, Lord, that I might believe on him?"

Heraklas bent above his roll. The answer of the Lord was there. "It is He that talketh with thee."

The lad dropped his papyrus, and covered his face. He bowed in awe.

For a long time he knelt there, pouring out his soul in prayer--but not to Egypt's G.o.ds. And that which is written of the blind man was fulfilled in Heraklas, also--"And he said, Lord, I believe. And he worshiped him."

When Heraklas rose from his knees, the sun was high in mid-heaven.

It was the time at home when his mother would burn myrrh to the sun.

But no prayer to Re or hymn to Horus escaped Heraklas' lips. How should he, who rejoiced in the knowledge of sins forgiven, pray more to false G.o.ds?

A holy awe and a great joy wrapped his soul. The burden of sin that had oppressed him, the hopeless burden which had not ceased to cause Heraklas misery even when he made offerings to Isis and poured forth prayers to Serapis, was gone, gone at the touch of Jesus.

Plucking from his girdle his carnelian buckle, that signified to an Egyptian the blood of Isis, said to wash away the sins of the wearer, Heraklas leaned forward, and flung the rosy ornament far into the white foam of the waves below. He could not wear that heathen sign, even though his mother had given the ornament to him.

"O Isis," murmured Heraklas, as he lost sight of the carnelian buckle within the waves, "I care not for thy blood! I know whose blood hath washed away my stain."

With reverent rejoicing, he concealed his papyrus and turned homeward.

He pa.s.sed into the great city. A woman was worshiping before a statue of the G.o.d Chonsu, the moon. Heraklas went by quickly, making no sign of reverence. Glancing back, he saw the woman gazing after him.

A little farther on stood a statue of Anubis. Other men, as they pa.s.sed, gave homage, but Heraklas did not turn his head toward the idol. He noted, in the stalls and in the shops, the altars and little idols. When he next went to purchase anything, must he do reverence? Heraklas met a beggar and dropped a coin into his hand.

"Isis and Osiris bless thee!" wished the suppliant.

Heraklas' lips parted to answer. Should he, who had been blessed of the Lord, seem to accept the blessing of idols? But the beggar turned to another giver, and Heraklas hurried on his way.

Before he could reach home, a sacred procession came in sight.

Already Heraklas could plainly see the leopard-skin that fitted over the linen robes of the Egyptian high priest who was coming. Twelve or sixteen inferior priests walked beside the superior one. The high priest's lock of hair, pendant on one side of his head, became more and more plain to Heraklas with every step of the procession.

"They carry the shrine of the sacred beetle of the sun," suspected Heraklas. "I cannot meet them!"

He turned, and dashed down the first opening that presented itself.

The pa.s.sage led him utterly out of his way.

"But better so," meditated Heraklas, "than that I should have met that skin-dressed priest!"

He stopped an instant. His circuitous way had led him in sight of a spot where he had once seen the Christian woman, Marcella, and her daughter Potamiaena, pa.s.sing on their way to martyrdom. How awful a form of martyrdom was it that Alexandria visited upon that beautiful Christian daughter! Gradually, hot, scalding pitch was poured over her body, in order that she might endure the utmost torture possible.

Heraklas looked around him at the proud, beautiful city.

"O Alexandria, Alexandria!" he whispered, "in thee is found the blood of the saints!"

For a moment the thought of such a death, as a Christian's punishment, overcame him. Yet he remembered that it was through Potamiaena's martyrdom that the soldier, Basilides, was led to become a Christian also. He refused to take a pagan oath, and was brought to martyrdom.

When Heraklas reached home, he was trembling. His short journey had been freighted with silent meaning.

CHAPTER VII.

Two men pa.s.sed out of the Gate of the Sun, the northern gate of Alexandria, and came to the docks that bordered the Great Port. The gaze of one man wandered from the promontory of Locrias on the east to the isle of Pharos on the north, and followed back the d.y.k.e that connected that island with the docks and marked the division between the Great Port and Alexandria's other harbor, the Port of Eunostus.

"When that ship saileth," remarked the man, indicating a large vessel moored in the Great Port, "some Christians go as ballast!"

"How knowest thou?" asked the other.

The former speaker smiled.

"Thou didst not see a little procession that came through the Gate of Necropolis last evening," he conjectured. "Some Christians brought in from the desert. This ship carrieth them to Rome, to the lions of the arena."

An unbelieving spirit looked from the other man's eyes.

"When the Christians see that ship waiting for them, they will recant," he prophesied. "A man doth not readily take shipping for the port of a lion's mouth!"

"Thou dost not know the Christians," a.s.serted the other. "They are an obstinate people. Our Lord Severus knoweth that right well. See!

He hath forbidden all public worship for the Christians. Their great school here bath been scattered. And yet, Christians remain Christians still! It is incredible! Thou didst speak without knowing what hath happened. The Christians have already seen the ship. They are on it! Not one bath recanted. But the ship saileth not for two days yet, and now, the men on board make merry. Hearest thou not their voices?"

A slave pa.s.sed so near as almost to brush the speaker's apparel, yet the man paid no heed.

But Athribis had heard. For what else but to hear had he this morning stolen down to the docks? He knew of the little company of Christians that had been brought captive to Alexandria, for a slave belonging to another household had told Athribis secretly, "He who was once thy young master--the Christian, Timokles--hath been brought in from the desert and goeth on the ship!"

In his heart Athribis made answer, "The ship needeth another pa.s.senger--my young master, the Christian, Heraklas!"

But, as yet, Athribis hardly dared say so, for he had no certain proof to bring of Heraklas' Christianity. If only he could find decisive proof, and bring it before the authorities, what a reward he might hope to have given him!

Yet never, from the day when Heraklas spied Athribis watching the reading of the roll, had the slave, with all his contriving, been able again to catch sight of the papyrus. It was no longer kept in its secret hole behind the bricks. Athribis had looked.

Where else had he not looked? He had hunted the house through as thoroughly as he had been able, s.n.a.t.c.hing a hasty opportunity here and there. If only he could lay hands on that very papyrus! If he could have time to show it to somebody who could read! Deeply had Athribis regretted that he had not been more cautious in his first spying. But now, what hope was there? Athribis had set some of the other slaves of the house to watch, but they had discovered nothing save the old papyri that bad been in the house for years. Some of the slaves could read, and they were sure this was so.

Out on the docks, Athribis stared now at the large mast of the ship, and at the ship's painted eye, and at the sculptured figure of the G.o.ddess Isis on the visible side of the ship's bow, both eye and figure, as Athribis knew, being duplicated on the bow's other side.

A small boat belonging to the large ship lay floating in the water, but connected with the ship by a rope.

Athribis dared not tarry longer. He hastened home again.

Closer than ever, as he went his morning round of duties, did Athribis watch, but Heraklas was invisible.

"He is not at home. He went away three hours ago," cautiously signaled the slave of the threshold to Athribis.

The slave of the threshold, like Athribis, hated Christians. There was a secret agreement between the two men that if Athribis ever should gain any reward for betraying Heraklas to the authorities, the reward should be evenly divided. Half should belong to the slave of the threshold, in consideration of his having been apparently asleep at times when Athribis went out without permission.

The hours went by and Heraklas did not come, to be spied upon.

That morning, Heraklas had gone out to seek some Christians whom he knew. Two weeks ago he had sought them for the first time to tell them that he wished to join their number. Greatly had he and they rejoiced together.

"Witness a good confession, as did thy brother Timokles," an old man admonished Heraklas.