Presently the shout of the high priest rang like a trumpet-peal above the roofs of the city. Then Jerusalem was all begirt and overflooded with song. Maidens, white robed, were singing in distant vineyards; people were singing in the streets; trained devotees were whirling and dancing and chanting psalms in the court of the Temple, while priest and Levite followed, blowing, with all their power of lung, upon the sacred horns.

In the midst of this outbreak a stranger approached Vergilius at the well, saying, "What seek you?" The young Roman gave his answer, but was unable to see the face of him who questioned. The stranger turned away and bade him follow. Without more ceremony Vergilius walked behind him through narrow streets, wholly unfamiliar, and presently descending a stairway, came into a dark pa.s.sage. They halted, after a few paces, whereupon a loud rap startled the new-comer. Soon he could hear a door open. The stranger, taking his hand, led him into some dark place. It was all very strange, and like tales long familiar, relating to the city of mysteries. Standing there in the dark and silence, he had some misgivings which gave way when a voice addressed him as follows:

"You are now in the council-chamber of the Covenant. We meet in darkness, so that no shape or form or image may turn our thought from the contemplation of him who is most high and who hath his dwelling in black darkness. Moreover, those who are not seen shall have neither vanity nor the will to deceive. Would you share in our deliberations?"

Vergilius answered yes, and one of the council then took his hand and administered the oath of secrecy, and led him to what seemed to be a large divan, where he sat, shoulder to shoulder, between other members of the council. He listened long to the casuistry of learned men touching prayer, atonement, and sacrifice. It led at last to some discussion of the new king.

"Is there one here can tell me where and when he shall be born?" was the query of Vergilius.

"We believe the Messiah is already born," said a councillor.

"Moreover, some here have beheld his face."

"And where, then, does he dwell?" Vergilius inquired.

"That you shall know some day. At the next meeting of the council it may be told. We wait only for the fulness of time. He dwells in a distant city, and not long ago I spoke with him. He sent his love and greeting to every member of our council. He bids you wait his time, when all your prayers shall be answered."

"Shall there be signs of his coming?" So spoke Vergilius.

"There shall be signs, and you shall hear of them in this chamber."

"And what shall be the aim of the king?"

"To establish the reign of justice."

Vergilius queried much regarding the government of the new king, and got replies adding more to his curiosity than to his knowledge.

It was near the middle hour of the night when a voice announced: "The keeper of the new door will now leave the council."

Vergilius heard a stir coming near him in the darkness. Hands were laid upon him, and, presently, one took his arm and led him away. The two climbed a long flight of stairs and made hastily across a broad roof. At a railed opening they came to other stairs, and, descending, entered a pa.s.sage, dark as had been the chamber. At its end the Roman received a pa.s.sword. Then a door swung and again he was on the pavements of Jerusalem, and, far away, could see the lights of Temple Hill.

His conductor, returning, announced the departure of "the new voice."

"We will now hear from the keeper of records," said one.

A voice quickly answered: "He secured a lock of his hair."

"And what says the keeper of the hidden light?"

Then said another voice: "He now sees but one obstacle."

"And what says the Angel of Death?"

A low, deep tone broke the silence in which all waited. "The sixth day before the kalends, he shall claim his own," so it answered.

"Enough," said the questioner. "The ways lead to safety. I bid you go."

One by one the councillors began to leave. There was no treading upon heels, for one was well out of the way before another was allowed to go. So cunningly was their room devised that half the exits led to one thoroughfare and half to another; and so many were they, it was said, no more than two councillors came or went by the same door. And of all who came, so say the records, not one knew another to be sure of him.

CHAPTER 16

For the king there were three great perils: the people, Caesar, and his own family. The descendant of old John Hyrca.n.u.s of Idumaea--a Jew only by compulsion--had no understanding of the children of Moses. He tripped every day on the barriers of ancient law, and often his generosity was taken for defiance. Caesar was not so hard to please.

He had vanity and laws not wholly inflexible. Herod's family, with its evil sister, its profligate sons, its voluptuous daughters, its wives, of whom it is enough to say they were nine, its intrigues and jealousies, gave him greater trouble than either the kingdom or the emperor. He built a city near Jerusalem, on the sea. Magnificent in marble and gold, Caesarea stood for a monument of Herodian troubles.

Therein he sought to amuse the people, to pacify his kindred, and to flatter Caesar. Its vast breakwater; its great arches through which the sea came gently in all weather; its mosaic pavements washed daily by the salt tide; its palaces of white marble; its great, glowing amphitheatre--these were unique in their barbaric splendor, albeit, in the view of the people, an offence to G.o.d.

Among those who dwelt in Caesarea was Elpis, eighth wife of the king, with her daughter Salome, whose praises had been sung at the banquet of Antipater. Both were renowned for beauty and the splendor of their dress. Salome had the colors of the far north, and that perfect and voluptuous contour found only in marble figures of Venus, above the great purple sea, and, below it, in the daughters of men. She was tall, shapely, full blooded. They called her Salome, child of the sun, because she had the dark of night in her large eyes, the tints of morning in her cheeks, and the gold of noonday in her hair.

When Manius came to seek her hand the king said, with a smile: "My n.o.ble youth, she is for the like of Achilles--a man of heroic heart and size. Have you no fear of her?"

Quickly Manius replied: "Know you not, O king! my fathers fought with Achilles?"

"But they had the protection of the G.o.ds," said Herod, with a smile.

"However, you may find her favor sufficient. I have heard her speak fair of you."

Now a quarrel had arisen between Elpis and a sister of Herod. So, therefore, to calm a tempest, the adroit king had sent his eighth wife to live by the sea.

It was a day near the nones of October, when the tribune went to Caesarea with Manius. There in a great palace, erected by the king, they met the two renowned women. It was a fete day and the gay people of Herod's court were in attendance. Salome was dancing, tabret in hand, her form showing through a robe of transparent silk as the two entered. Once before, at the door of the king, Vergilius had seen her.

"See the taper of arm and leg," said he, addressing his companion, "She is wonderful!"

A lithe and beautiful creature, she swayed and bent, with arms extended, her feet, now slow as the pinions of a sailing hawk, now swift as the wings of a tilting sparrow. She stopped suddenly, her form proudly erect, looking at her lover. Now she had the dignity of a wild deer in the barrens. With one hand she felt her jewelled hair, with the other she beckoned to him. The young men approached her.

"Children of Aeneas, I give you welcome," said she. Then turning to Vergilius: "Did Manius tell you that I bade him bring you here?"

"I knew not I was so honored."

"He is jealous. He will not permit me to embrace my little page. I have wished to meet you, n.o.ble tribune, ever since I saw you in my father's palace."

Her eyes were playful, as if they would try the heart of her lover.

"And when I saw you," said Vergilius, "I--I knew you were the betrothed of the a.s.sessor."

"And why?" she besought, with a smile.

"Because I heard him say in Rome that, of all the daughters of Judea, you were most beautiful."

Her eyes looked full upon his and he saw in them a glint of that fire which had begun to burn within her. He said to himself, as he came away, "Here is another Cleopatra--a woman made to pull down the mighty."

Next day from the daughter of Herod came a letter to the young tribune:

"n.o.bLE SON OF VARRO,--I have much to say concerning your welfare, and I doubt not you will desire to hear it. If I judge you rightly, come to the palace of my mother the second evening before the nones. An hour after sunset I will meet you at the gate of bronze. Say naught to Manius of your coming or of this letter."

"Temptress!" said he, crushing the sheet of scented vellum. "But she is beautiful," he added, wistfully. "She is like the Venus of Alcamenes. I would love well to look upon her again."