"And again you swear secrecy?"

"I do."

Without more delay they entered a room walled with white marble and lighted by candles. A bearded Jew, in a scarlet cloak embroidered with gold, rose to greet them.

"To John ben Joreb I present the n.o.ble Manius," said Antipater.

"Blessings of the one G.o.d be upon thee," said Ben Joreb, bowing low.

"And the favor of many G.o.ds on thee," said the a.s.sessor. "From Jerusalem?"

"Nay, from Damascus."

Antipater stirred the fire in iron braziers on either side of the room, and then bade them recline beside him at a small table whereon a supper waited.

"Ben Joreb has good news of our plan," said he, turning to Manius.

"It prospers," said the priest. "Our council is now in thirty cities."

"And the king is better," said Manius. "He will not soon perish of infirmity."

"But you tell me that my father suffers?"

Antipater started nervously. A long, weird wail from the Arab dying on a cross in the garden flooded down the flues.

"A hundred deaths a day," said Ben Joreb.

"I have been talking with Manius," Antipater answered. "He thinks it would be a mercy to--"

He was interrupted again. That tremulous, awful cry for mercy found its way to his ear. It seemed to mock the sacred word. Antipater jumped to his feet, cursing.

"I will put an end to that," said he, rushing to the door and flinging it back and running down the pa.s.sage.

Manius turned to Ben Joreb.

"What is there in the howling of that slave?" he whispered. "I am weak-hearted."

"I take it for a sign," the other answered, gravely. "It is written, 'Thy spirit shall be as the candle of the Lord,' and, again, 'Thou shall hearken to the cry of anguish.'"

In a few moments Antipater returned.

"I have summoned the carnifex," said he, bolting the door and resuming his place at the table. "I was saying to you, good Manius, that my friend here, Ben Joreb, would think it a great mercy to remove him."

"A great mercy!" Ben Joreb answered; "a man's mercy to him; a G.o.d's mercy to his people."

"And what think you?" said Antipater, turning to Manius.

"I agree; 'twould be a mercy, but a risky enterprise," said the Roman.

"I would risk my head to save him a day of pain," said the treacherous son of Herod. "You love him not as I do or you would brave all to end his misery."

There was now half a moment filled with a long, piercing cry from beyond the walls of the palace until Antipater spoke, a tiger look in his face again. "Put the lance into him, my good carnifex," he growled, striking with clinched fist. "Again, now; and again, and again."

He listened for a breath, and as silence came he added, "There, that will do."

Neither spoke for a little time.

"I wish I could make you feel how dearly I love my father," he went on, addressing his friends now and hiding his claws with revolting guile and all unconscious that he had shown them.

Again a breath of silence, in which Manius thought of the black leopard when he lay making those playful and caressing movements on the floor.

And there came to the heart of Ben Joreb a fear that this man might prove more terrible than his father.

"We feel it," said Manius, with inner smiles that showed not upon his face.

"Then be servants of my love."

"And of our own welfare?"

"Certainly! You shall each have a palace in Jerusalem and fifty thousand aurei; and you, Manius, shall command the forces on land and sea, and you, John ben Joreb, of the tribe of Aaron, shall be high-priest."

"I agree," said Manius, an overwhelming cupidity in the words.

"And I agree," said the Jew, who had entered upon this intrigue with motives of patriotism, and now, although suspicious of the result, was committed beyond a chance of turning.

"Angels of mercy!" Antipater exclaimed, rising and taking a hand of each in his. "My love shall be ever a shield and weapon for you. One other thing. The couriers who bring to Rome news of my father's death--bid them hurry and take with them, also, word of the illness of that dog Vergilius. After they leave let him not linger in needless pain--do you understand me? For that, I say, each of you shall have five thousand aurei added to his wealth."

The others nodded.

"Now take this--it may be useful," whispered the prince of Judea, handing a little golden box to the a.s.sessor. "There is something in it will hasten the effect of wine--a fine remedy for a weary land, good Manius. He that makes it a friend shall have no enemies. Hold, let me think. That old fox on the hill yonder has a thousand eyes and his ears are everywhere. Not a word, Manius, after we leave this door. In yon pa.s.sage turn to the right. Walk until your head touches the ceiling, then creep to the door. Open it and use your ears. If no one is pa.s.sing, go straight ahead. You will come to a gate on the Via Sacra. You," he added, turning to Ben Joreb, "shall leave by the main gate."

When both had gone, this prince of Judea walked across the inner hall of his palace and flung himself on the cushions of a great divan.

A swarthy eunuch came near him on tip-toe.

"Begone!" The word burst from the lips of Antipater in a hoa.r.s.e growl, and, like a tiger's paw, his hand struck the cushions in front of him.

As he lay blinking drowsily, his chin upon his hands, there was still in his face and att.i.tude a suggestion of the monster cat.

And he thought fondly of his wreaking of vengeance when he should be crowned the great king of prophetic promise--of the fury of armies, of the stench of the slain, of the cry of the ravished, of "mountains melting in blood."

CHAPTER 9

It was the fifth anniversary of that resolution of the senate fathers to consecrate the altar of Peace. Pilgrims thronged the city, and some had journeyed far. Tens of thousands surrounded the great monument, immense and beautiful beyond any in the knowledge of men. It signalized a remarkable state of things--the world was at peace. More than seven centuries before that day an idea had entered the heart of a prophet; now it was in the very heart of the world. This heap of marble, under pagan G.o.ds, had given it grand, if only partial, expression. There was no symbol of war in the long procession of its upper frieze, and its lower was like a sculptured song of peace wrought in fruits and bees and birds and blossoms. Here was a mighty plant flowering twice a year and giving its seed to the four winds. Every July and January its erection was celebrated in the imperial republic.

Vergilius stood beside the emperor that day when, at the Ars Pacis Augustas, he addressed the people.

"I have been reading," he said, "the words of a certain dreamer of Judea, who, in the olden time, wrote of a day when swords should be beaten into ploughshares and spears into pruning-hooks, and when peace should reign among the nations of the earth. Well, give me an army for a hundred years, good people, and then I may voice the will of the G.o.ds that iron be used no more to plough its way in living flesh, but only to turn the furrow and to prune the tree. Meanwhile, believe me, every man must learn to love honor and virtue, and to respect his neighbor, and the G.o.ds above all."