Vergilius Part 21

The sun had set and the sea lay calm in a purple dusk. He went aboard his trireme at once and called his pilot to him.

"Go find the vessel waiting here for one Appius of Rome," he commanded.

"It is she that lies near us," said the other.

"And you know her pilot?"

"Ay, 'tis Tepas the Idumaean. He knows the broad sea as one may know his own vineyard."

"Bring him to me."

When Tepas came, Antipater took him aside and spread before him a chart of the vast, purple sea which beat upon the sh.o.r.es of h.e.l.las. He put his finger on a little spot some leagues from the coast of Africa.

"Know you the Isle of Doom?" said he.

"Ay, 'tis a lonely heap of rocks."

"A roost of sea-birds," said the prince of Judea. "Know you who am I?"

"You are the son of Herod."

"And I go to be king of the Jews."

Antipater took from a bag many pieces of gold and heaped them on the chart above the Isle of Doom.

"Would you earn this money, and much more?" he whispered.

"If you will but show me how," said Tepas, the fire of greed now burning in his heart.

"Sail close to the Isle of Doom. There your trireme shall be leaking and you shall desert her and seek refuge on the isle and wait for me.

You shall have ample store of provisions, and this treasure, and when I come you shall have, also, three talents more and a home in Jerusalem, and my favor as long as you live."

"But how long must I wait?"

"Not beyond, the ides of January, good man."

"Then I agree," said Tepas.

So was it with an evil man those days. If he were armed with power he halted not between his plan and his purpose. There were, indeed, few things so valued as to be above price.

But the cunning of the tempter was to lead his prey into further depths of infamy. The prince took the hand of the sailor and whispered to him:

"If you would be a friend to me, then my enemies should be your enemies." He paused a moment, looking into the eyes of the pilot and tenderly patting his shoulder. It was like the guile of the black leopard. Presently he continued:

"Now this young Roman is my enemy. If by any chance he, Appius, should die before I come, you shall have six instead of three talents. He is fond of wine, and for such the sea has many perils. Do you understand me?"

"I do," said Tepas, nodding his approval, and then that heap of gold, lying on the chart, was delivered to him, and without more delay he went to his own vessel. Antipater sat in silence, thinking for a moment, his chin upon his breast. Soon the thought of his enemies and their doom brightened his eyes and lifted the corners of his mouth a little and set his lips quivering. He leaned forward upon a table, softly, as if in fear that some eye would observe him. One might have heard then that menacing, Herodian rumble in his throat. He seemed to caress the table with his hands.

"Dear Appius! Good Vergilius!" he muttered, seizing a piece of vellum and crushing it in his hand. "Soon my power shall close upon you. And Arria, my pretty maiden, you shall repair my heart with kisses."

A pet kitten leaped upon the table. It seemed to startle him, and he struck it dead with his hand.

Then he sprang up suddenly and looked about, a feline stealth upon him, and ran with catlike paces to the deck.

"Get to work, you sea-rats!" he roared. "Every man to his place. If we are not gone to sea before the moon is up, some of you will be gone to Hades."

In half a moment slaves were up in the rigging and rushing across the deck and tumbling into the galley.

And that night Antipater pushed his prow into the deep sea.

Meanwhile Arria and Appius, fearing the power of this new king of Judea, and thinking also of the peril of Vergilius, travelled slowly, considering what they should do. Appius feared either to go or to return, but Arria was of better courage.

"I must go to him," said she. "You know not this love in me, dear brother. I would give up my life to be with him. If he is dead I shall never see the seven hills again. I shall go--" she paused, covering her eyes a moment.

"Where?"

"To the city of G.o.d," she whispered.

"May all the G.o.ds protect us," said her brother.

And the day after Antipater had set sail, they, too, with Cyran, the slave-girl, were moving southward in the great, middle sea.

CHAPTER 20

Again the council of the covenant was in session. Herod, unknown to all, sat in the darkness of the council chamber. The intrigue of Salome and the treachery of Manius had led the Lion of Judea to his prey. Swords of fate were in the gloom that surrounded the traitors.

Now there had been, that night, a great discussion of the new king, and suddenly a man sitting by the side of Vergilius had risen. He began speaking in a strange voice, which had, however, some quality familiar to the young Roman. Shrill and trembling with emotion, it thrilled many with a feeling of religious awe.

"The time is upon us," said he, "when the judges of the council have come to the end of their deliberations. It is for me, therefore, to reveal it to you in part. If there be any here who give not full approval, let them freely express their minds."

He did not explain that such were, then and there, to be won by argument or put out of the way by daggers.

"I speak of great things, but he that is to follow me shall speak of greater. After weighing all the promises of Holy Writ, and enforcing their wisdom by the counsel of other learned men," he continued, "your judges declare the fulness of time."

The speaker paused. He heard a little stir of bodies, a rustle of robes in the darkness.

The speaker went on:

"When Herod dies you shall see a rider go swiftly through the streets bearing a red banner and crying, 'The king is dead.' Then shall the commander of the cohorts go quickly and take possession of the royal palace and await the new king."

Vergilius turned quickly in the direction of the fateful voice. He had begun to suspect a plot. In a moment he saw to the very depths of its cunning. Here was a band of conspirators meeting in the darkness and speaking in disguised voices. Probably no member had ever seen the face of another, and the betrayal of a name was, therefore, impossible.

Vergilius, now commander of the castle, heard with consternation of his part in the programme. By some movement of the speaker's body an end of his girdle was flung against the hand of Vergilius. Immediately the young Roman laid hold of the silken cord. Tracing it stealthily, to make sure of its owner, he drew his dagger and cut the girdle in twain, hiding an end of it in his bosom.

"The new king is in Rome," the speaker added. "Presently you shall hear the voice of his herald, whose face I know not, but of whose fidelity and wisdom. I have long been sure. He will give you further revelation of our purposes."

It was cunningly said, for the speaker knew that such a promise would delay the vengeance of Herod.