Again they listened, but the song, if song it was, had ceased.

Then, boldly, as one who would put down his fear, the color-bearer spoke up; "'Tis a band of shepherd folk on some far hill. Never saw I so dark a night. By the curtains of Solomon, I cannot see my horse!"

"There is no star in the sky," said another.

Then said the young commander, whist with awe: "Look yonder! A light on the hills! I saw it appear."

Amazement was in the tone of David: "Nay, 'tis a window of paradise!

Or maybe that time is come when the three great stars should gather side by side. Do you not remember the talk of the astrologers?"

"I say 'tis a light on the hills." Vergilius now spoke in a husky, solemn whisper. "See, 'tis larger; and I would think it near the village of Bethlehem."

After a moment of silence he added, with a laugh: "Why stand we here and whisper, like a lot of women? Let us move on."

Again he seemed to hear peals of song in the sky and their rhythm in hoof and scabbard. It put him in mind of that strange, mysterious chant of the old singer.

Soon he drew rein, saying: "Halt and listen!" They stopped, conscious only of the great silence of the night. Vergilius felt for the arm of his friend.

"What think you?" said he, his voice full of wonder. "I doubt not the sound is in our fancy."

"See! The star! It grows!" said David, eagerly. "'Tis like a mighty lantern hung in the dome of the sky."

Then said Vergilius, a pagan fancy filling his mind: "It may be G.o.d is walking upon the earth."

A moment they rode on, looking up at the heavens. Suddenly Vergilius bade them halt again, saying: "Hist! What is that cry?"

Now they could hear a faint halloo far behind them.

Then the bearer of the colors remarked: "It might be the squad of Manius."

"G.o.d curse him!" said Vergilius, quickly, his heart filling with pa.s.sion dark as the night around. He heard no more the great song, but only the smite of steel in deadly combat. He seemed to see his enemy fall bleeding at his feet. "I will take what Herod offers," he thought. "I will make war on the cats and the serpents."

He had forgotten everything now save his bitterness.

"See! 'Tis gone!" said his friend, in a loud whisper. "The star is gone! I saw it disappear as if a cloud were suddenly come over it."

All drew rein, looking into the sky. Many stars were now uncovered in the vault above them.

"'Twas a light on the hills," said Vergilius, with a vague fear in him.

"Yonder I can see a smaller one. 'Tis a lantern. Look! It moves."

Suddenly they were startled by a mighty voice that seemed to travel far into dark and lonely caverns of the sky. Like a trumpet-call it resounded over the gloomy hills---that cry of the camel-rider:

"Where is he that is born king of the Jews?"

Vergilius whispered, his awe returning: "They are coming--those men who rode the camels."

Said David, his voice trembling: "They are like many who have gone abroad with that ancient hope in them."

The hors.e.m.e.n now stood, breathing low as they listened. Vergilius was full of wonder, thinking of the awe which had fallen upon him and the others. He tried to throw it off. "We waste time," said he, starting his charger. "Come, good men, we have work to do."

Awhile they rode in silence, their eyes on the light of the lantern.

Slowly they came near, and soon saw its glow falling upon rocks and moving shadows beneath it.

Then said David, turning to Vergilius: "The battle--suppose it goes ill with you?"

"Ill!" said the Roman, with rising ire. "Then Jehovah is no better than Mars."

They could now see people standing in the light of a lantern which hung above the entrance of a cave. Its opening was large enough to admit a horse and rider.

"Soldiers of Caesar!"--the whisper went from mouth to mouth there in the light of the lantern.

The hors.e.m.e.n halted.

"I shall soon be done with this traitor to friend and king," thought the tribune, dismounting and approaching the cave.

That group of people under the light, seeing symbols of Roman authority and hearing its familiar voice, fell aside with fear in their faces. A woman standing in the entrance of the cave addressed Vergilius, her voice trembling with emotion.

"Good sir," said she, "if you mean harm to those within I pray you go hence."

"I know not who is within," he answered, as both he and David pa.s.sed her. Fearing treachery, they drew their swords. Just beyond the entrance of the cave both halted. A man stood before them, his face full of high authority, his hand raised as if to command silence. He was garbed like a toiler and somewhat past middle age, his beard and eyebrows long and gray. A lantern hung near his head, and well beyond him, resting peacefully on the farther floor of the cave, were horses, sheep, and oxen. The man spoke not save by the beckon of his hand.

Without a word they followed him. The light of the lantern seemed now to glow with exceeding brightness. They stopped. On the straw before them lay a beautiful young maiden, a child upon her breast. Her arms, which encircled the babe, her hands, her head, her whole body, and the soul within had a glow of fondness. Nature had clothed her for its great event with a fulness of beauty wonderful and yet familiar. In her soft, blue eyes they saw that peace and love which are a part of the ancient, common miracle of G.o.d. They saw more, even the light of the world, but were not able to understand. Calmly she looked up at them. Waving strands and ma.s.ses of golden hair lay above her shoulders and about the head of the child upon her bosom. It was l.u.s.trous, beautiful hair, and seemed to glow as the bearded man came near with the lantern. What was there in the tender, peaceful look of the mother, what in her full b.r.e.a.s.t.s, what in the breathing of the child, what in the stir of those baby hands to make the soldier bare and bow his head? He leaned against the rock wall of the cave and covered his eyes and thought of his beloved Arria, of his dream of home and peace and little children. The sword fell from his hand. A great sickness of the soul came on him as he thought of those evil days in Jerusalem and of his part in their b.l.o.o.d.y record. There and then he flung off the fetters of king and emperor.

He knew not yet who lay before him.

As he looked through tears upon them they seemed to be covered with light as with a garment. David knelt before the mother and child in adoration.

Vergilius, full of astonishment, turned to look around him, and saw Manius, who stood near, trembling with superst.i.tious awe. The wonders of the night, the great star and song in the heavens, the glowing cave, the mysterious child and mother had wrought upon him. Were they omens of death?

"Apollo save me!" he whispered, turning to go.

David rose and approached Manius, and spoke with lifted hand.

"Apollo cannot save you," said he. "Kneel! kneel before the sacred mother and put all evil out of your hearts!"

Vergilius knelt, and then his enemy. Manius began to weep.

"O G.o.d! who hast softened the heart of the world, give us peace!" said David.

Again they heard that voice which had greeted their ears in Jerusalem.

It spoke now at the entrance of the cave, saying again: "Where is he that is born king of the Jews?"

David, going to the door of the cave, answered: "Here, within."

"Tis he--the new king!" the tribune whispered. "I thought kings were born in palaces, and here are they so near the beasts of the field."

Soon came David, and behind him, following in single file, three men, a G.o.d-sent majesty in step and countenance. Vergilius and Manius moved aside, saluting solemnly as the men pa.s.sed. The young tribune turned to his friend and to Manius.