Some had seen him wandering about the palace at night with a candle, mourning over his loss and raging at his own folly. Some had seen him so shaken by remorse that he roared like a lion goaded by hunger and the lance. At such a time it was, indeed, a peril to come before him.

Plots against his life had worried him, and, distrusting his helpers, he was wont to go about the city in disguise seeking information.

Twice he had forgiven Antipater, his favorite son, for crimes in the royal household.

Now, in his seventy-sixth year, the king was, indeed, sorely pressed with trouble. Jerusalem was the centre of a plot formidable and far-reaching. Its object was, in part, clear to him, or so he thought, and with some reason. It seemed to aim at his removal and the crowning of a mysterious king of prophecy, who, many said, was now waiting the death of Herod. It baffled him. He saw signs that many had their heads together in this plot. So far, however, he had not been able to lay hands upon them. There were many theories about the new king.

They were strange and conflicting and zealously put forth. They differed as to whether he were yet born and as to his divinity, his character, and his purposes. The Sanhedrim held that when he came into the world there would be certain signs and portents seen of all men.

This conflict of authority increased the confusion of Herod. When Vergilius came to his capital the king was mired on the very edge of the great mystery.

Powers of darkness ruled the city of Jerusalem. The sword, the lance, the dagger, and the wheel were wreaking vengeance and creating new perils while they were removing old ones. The king had tried vainly to repair the past. He gave freely to the poor; he erected gorgeous places of amus.e.m.e.nt; he built the new temple and a great palace in the upper city. The splendor of the latter structures had outdone the imperator. No shape born of barbaric dreams, to be slowly spread upon the earth in marble and gold, had so taxed the cunning and the patience of human hands. Such, in brief, were the character, the troubles, the home, and the city of Herod.

CHAPTER 13

In travel-worn garb Vergilius went early to see the king. Accustomed to the grandeur of Rome itself, he yet saw with astonishment the beautiful groves, the lakes, ca.n.a.ls, and fountains sparkling in the sunlight which surrounded the great marble palace of Herod. In the shadow of its many towers, each thirty cubits high, Vergilius began to feel some dread of this terrible king. At least fifty paces from the door of his chamber, in the great hall above-stairs, he could hear the growl of the old lion. In Herod was the voice of wrath and revenge and terror. His words came rolling out in a deep, husky, guttural tone, or leaped forth hissing with anger. Some officials stood by the king's door with fear and dread upon their faces. A young woman of singular beauty was among them.

"O Salome, daughter of Herod," said one, "the king would have you come to-morrow. He is in ill humor with the plotters."

"And I with him," said she, stamping her foot.

An usher had presented Vergilius at the door. As Herod's daughter proudly turned away, she came face to face with the young Roman n.o.ble.

For one moment their eyes held each other. A chamberlain approached Vergilius, whispered a few inquiries, and then led him before the king.

Herod was having a bad day.

"Traitors!" he hissed. In a voice like the menacing growl of a savage beast he added: "May their eyes rot in their heads! Go! I have heard enough, bearer of evil tidings."

Far down the great chamber in which half a cohort could have stood comfortably, in a carved chair on a dais, under a vault and against a background of blue, Babylonian tapestry, sat the king. A priest had bowed low and was now leaving his presence. The chamberlain announced, in a loud voice, "Vergilius, son of Varro, of Rome, and officer of the fatherly and much-beloved Gaius Julius Caesar Octavia.n.u.s Augustus."

The king sat erect, a purple tarboosh and crown of wrought gold upon his head. As Vergilius approached, the dark, suspicious eyes of Herod were surveying him from under long, quivering tufts of gray hair. His great body, in its prime, must have been like that of Achilles.

"Stand where you are, son of Varro," said the king, as he moved nervously. His broad shoulders were beginning to bend a little under their burden of trouble and disease. The harrow of pain and pa.s.sion had roughened his face with wrinkles. His manner was alert and watchful.

"Have you seen my son?" he inquired, quickly.

"Yes, great sire, and he was well."

"And is he not comely?"

"Ay, and brave with his lance."

"And a born king," said Herod. "I have fixed my heart upon him. I have no other to love--but the great imperator. And how is he?"

"I left him well, good sire."

"Stand a moment, son of Varro," said the king, with an impatient gesture. An attendant approached him and spoke in a low tone. Herod, snarled like a huge cat when the lance threatens.

"Break him on the rack," he muttered; "and unless he tell, crucify him--crucify him. He shall do me no further injury. That priest Lugar, bring him back to me. Quickly now, bring him to me!"

The attendant hurried away, soon returning with him who had retired as Vergilius entered the king's chamber.

"Saw you the men of learning in Ascalon?" the king demanded.

"I did."

"What said they?"

There was a moment of silence.

"Out with it," said the king, fiercely. "Must I put every man upon the rack? Speak, and that you may tell the truth I shall not demand their names."

"They, also, look for the new king," said Lugar. "Many believe he is already born. They say that on your death he will declare himself."

"And they, too, pray for my death?"

"Most earnestly, my beloved king."

"Traitors!" said Herod, and as he spoke his powerful hands were tearing his kerchief into rags. "I shall soon change the burden of their prayers. Go tell them this: the day I die two of the wisest men from every city in the kingdom shall die also. Go everywhere, and tell these learned doctors they had best pray for my good health."

The priest bowed before his king and retired. The pagan n.o.ble looked up at this ruler of the land of the one G.o.d and felt a thrill of horror. Herod, turning quickly, beckoned to the young knight, his wrinkles quivering with anger. Now, indeed, he was like a lion at bay.

"Ha-a!" he roared, and his head bent slowly and his voice fell to a low rumble as he continued. "'Tis an evil time in Jerusalem. I weary of this long fight with traitors. They grind their points; they stir poison; they swarm in the streets. They rob me of my friends, and now--now they seek alliance with Jehovah to rob me of my throne. 'Tis well you should know and beware. I have a plan which will make them desire my good health. Report to Quirinus, and remember"--he took a hand of the youth in both of his with a fawning movement--"I have need of friends."

That very day an order went forth that certain of the learned men of every city be a.s.sembled in the amphitheatre at Jericho, and be there confined to wait the further pleasure of the king. It was a bold plan through which Herod hoped to confound his enemies and insure his safety. He decreed that on the day of his death all these men should be executed.

CHAPTER 14

Among the orderlies at the castle was one David, a young Jew, whose face and bearing had attracted the eye of Vergilius. There was in both something admirable and familiar. Straightway the tribune chose the young Jew for his own service, and soon held him in high esteem.

Together they set out one morning, with a troop of horse, bound for the southern limit of Samaria. Thus quickly orders had arrived from the emperor. They sent Vergilius on a journey to inspect roads and report "as to hopes, plans, and theories of import to the king."

That morning as they left the old city, Vergilius and the young Jew rode abreast.

"Tell me," said the former, presently, "what know you of the new king?"

"Of him I have thought much and know little," said David. "My mother taught me to look for him. That was before the evil days."

"And you learned what of her?"

"Little save the long hope. She taught me an old chant of the coming.

If you wish, I will sing it."

Being bidden, he sang, as she had sung who hushed the revels of Antipater, of signs and fears and of arrows to fly as the lightning.

Words, melody, emotion, the note of inveterate wrong, were those of the slave-girl.

"The same nose and blue eyes, and fair, curly locks--the same feeling and chant of faith," said Vergilius, thoughtfully. "Did you not live in Galilee and suffer ill fortune?"

"We lived in Galilee, and, by-and-by, were as those hurled into Gehenna."