 CHAPTER VIII. As Ben Hur descended the steps of the stand, an Arab arose upon the last one at the foot and cried out, Men of the east and west harken, the good-shake ill-derim giveth greeting. With four horses, sons of the favourites of Solomon the wise, he hath come up against the best. Needs he most a mighty man to drive them, whoso will take them to his satisfaction, to him he promises enrichment for ever, here, there, in the city and in the circuses, and wherever the strong most do congregate, tell ye this his offer. So sayeth my master, shake ill-derim the generous. The proclamation awakened a great buzz among the people under the awning. By night it would be repeated and discussed in all the sporting circles of Antioch. Ben Hur, hearing it, stopped and looked hesitatingly from the herald to the shake. Malik thought he was about to accept the offer, but was relieved when he presently turned to him and asked, Good Malik, where to now? The worthy replied, with a laugh, Would you liken yourself to others visiting the Grove for the first time, you will straight way to hear your fortune told. My fortune said you. Though the suggestion has in it a flavour of unbelief, let us to the goddess it wants. Nay, son of Arius, these Apollonians have a better trick than that. Instead of speech with a pythia or a cybil, they will sell you a plain papyrus leaf, hardly dry from the stalk, and bid you dip it in the water of a certain fountain, when it will show you a verse in which you may hear of your future. The glow of interest departed from Ben Hur's face. There are people who have no need to vex themselves about their future, he said, gloomily. Can you prefer to go to the temples? The temples are Greek, are they not? They call them Greek. The Helenes were masters of the beautiful and art, but in architecture they sacrifice variety to unbending beauty, their temples are all alike. How call you the fountain? Castelia. Oh, it has repute throughout the world. Let us thither. Masalic kept watch on his companion as they went, and saw that for the moment at least his good spirits were out. To the people passing he gave no attention. Over the wonders they came upon there were no exclamations. Silently, even sullenly, he kept a slow pace. The truth was, the sight of Masala had set Ben Hur to thinking. It seemed scarce an hour ago that the strong hands had torn him from his mother. Lace an hour ago that the Roman had put seal upon the gates of his father's house. He recounted how, in the hopeless misery of the life, if such it might be called, in the galleys, he had had little else to do, aside from labour, than dream-dreams of vengeance, in all of which Masala was the principal. There might be, he used to say to himself, escape for gratis, but for Masala never. And to strengthen and harden his resolution he was accustomed to repeat over and over. Who pointed us out to the persecutors? And when I begged him for help, not for myself, who mocked me and went away laughing? And always the dream had the same ending. The day I meet him help me, thou good God of my people, help me to some fitting special vengeance. And now the meeting was at hand. Perhaps if he had found Masala poor and suffering, Ben Hur's feeling had been different, but it was not so. He found him more than prosperous. In the prosperity there was a dashing glitter, gleam of sun on gilt of gold. So it happened that what Malak accounted a passing loss of spirit was pondering when the meeting should be and in what manner he could make it most memorable. They turned after a while into an avenue of oaks, where the people were going and coming in groups, footmen here and horsemen, there women and litters borne by slaves, and now and then chariots rolled by thunderously. At the end of the avenue the road, by an easy grade, descended into a lowland, where on the right hand there was a precipitous facing of gray rock, and on the left an open meadow of vernal freshness. Then they came in view of the famous fountain of Castelia. Going through a company assembled at the point, Ben Hur beheld a jet of sweet water pouring from the crest of a stone into a basin of black marble, where, after much boiling and foaming, it disappeared as through a funnel. By the basin, under a small portico cut in the solid wall, sat a priest, old, bearded, wrinkled, cowled, never being more perfectly aromite-ish. From the manner of the people present hardly might one say which was the attraction, the fountain, forever sparkling, or the priest, forever there. He heard, saw, was seen, but never spoke. Occasionally a visitor extended a hand to him with a coin in it, with a cunning twinkle of the eyes he took the money, and gave the party in exchange a leaf of papyrus. The receiver made haste to plunge the papyrus into the basin. Then, holding the dripping leaf in the sunlight, he would be rewarded with a versified inscription upon its face. At the fame of the fountain seldom suffered loss by poverty of merit in the poetry. Before Ben Hur could test the oracle, some other visitors were seen approaching across the meadow, and their appearance peaked the curiosity of the company, his not less than theirs. He saw first a camel, very tall and very white, in leading of a driver on horseback. A how-da on the animal, besides being unusually large, was of crimson and gold. Two other horsemen followed the camel with tall spears in hand. "'What a wonderful camel!' said one of the company. "'A prince from afar!' Another one suggested. "'More likely a king!' If he were on an elephant, I would say he was a king.' A third man had a very different opinion. "'A camel and a white camel!' he said authoritatively. "'By Apollo-friends! They who come yonder! You can see there are two of them. Are neither kings nor princes. They are women!' In the midst of the dispute the strangers arrived. The camel seen at hand did not belie his appearance afar. A taller, stately or brute of his kind, no traveller at their fountain, though from the remotest parts, had ever beheld such great black eyes, such exceedingly fine white hair, feet so contractile when raised, so soundless in planting, so broad when set. Nobody had ever seen the peer of this camel, and how well he became his housing of silk and all its frippery of gold in fringe and gold in tassel. The tinkling of silver bells went before him, and he moved lightly as if unknowing of his burden. But who were the man and woman under the houda? Every eye saluted them with the inquiry. If the former were a prince or a king, the philosophers of the crowd might not deny the impartiality of time, when they saw the thin, shrunken face buried under an immense turban, the skin of the hue of a mummy, making it impossible to form an idea of his nationality, they were pleased to think the limit of life was for the great as well as the small. They saw about his person nothing so enviable as the shawl which draped him. The woman was seated in the matter of the east, amidst veils and laces of surpassing kindness. Above her elbows she wore armlets fashioned like coiled asps, and linked bracelets at the wrists by strands of gold, otherwise the arms were bare and of singular natural grace, complemented with hands modeled daintily as a child's. One of the hands rested upon the side of the carriage, showing tapered fingers glittering with rings, and stained at the tips till they blushed like the pink of mother of pearl. She wore an open call upon her head, sprinkled with beads of coral, and strung with coin pieces called sunlets, some of which were carried across her forehead, while others fell down her back, half smothered in the mass of her straight blue-black hair, of itself an incomparable ornament not kneading the veil which covered it except as a protection against sun and dust. From her elevated seat she looked upon the people calmly, pleasantly, and apparently so intent upon studying them as to be unconscious of the interest she herself was exciting. And what was unusual? Nay, in violent contravention of this custom among women of rank in public, she looked at them with an open face. It was a fair face to see, quite youthful, in form, oval, complexion not white, like the Greek, nor brunette, like the Roman, nor blonde, like the gall, but rather the tinting of the sun of the upper Nile, upon a skin of such transparency that the blood shone through it on cheek and brow with nigh the ruddiness of lamplight. The eyes naturally large, were touched along the lids with a black paint in the memorial throughout the east. The lips were slightly parted, disclosing, through their scarlet lake, teeth of glistening whiteness. To all these excellences of countenance the reader is finally besought to super-ad, the air derived from the pose of a small head, classic in shape, set upon a neck long, drooping and graceful, the air, we may fancy, happily described by the word, queenly. As if satisfied with the survey of people and locality, the fair creature spoke to the driver, an Ethiopian of vast brawn, naked to the waist, who led the camel nearer the fountain, and caused it to kneel, after which he received from her hand a cup, and proceeded to fill it at the basin. That instant the sound of wheels and the trampling of horses in rapid motion broke the silence her beauty had imposed, and, with a great outcry, the bystanders parted in every direction, hurrying to get away. The Roman has a mind to write us down, look out! Malik shouted to Ben Hur, setting him at the same time an example of hasty flight. The latter faced to the direction the sounds came from, and beheld Masala in his chariot, pushing the four straight at the crowd. This time the view was near and distinct. The parting of the company uncovered the camel, which might have been more agile than his kind, generally, yet the hoofs were almost upon him, and he resting with closed eyes, chewing the endless cud with such sense of security as long favoritism may be supposed to have bred in him. The Ethiopian rung his hands afraid. In the houda the old man moved to escape, but he was hampered with age, and could not, even in the face of danger, forget the dignity which was plainly his habit. It was too late for the woman to save herself. Ben Hur stood nearest them, and he called to Masala, Hold! Look where thou goest! Back! Back! The patrician was laughing in hearty good humor, and, seeing there was but one chance of rescue, Ben Hur stepped in and caught the bits of the left yolk-steed and his mate. Dog of a Roman? Carest thou so little for life? He cried, putting forth all his strength. The two horses reared, and drew the others round. The tilting of the poles tilted the chariot. Masala barely escaped a fall, while his complacent myrtilus rolled back like a claw to the ground. Seeing the peril past, all the bystanders burst into derisive laughter. The matchless audacity of the Roman then manifested itself. Seeing the lines from his body, he tossed them to one side, dismounted, walked around the camel, looked at Ben Hur, and spoke partly to the old man and partly to the woman. Pardon! I pray you, I pray you both. I am Masala, he said, and by the old mother of the earth I swear I did not see you or your camel. As to these good people, perhaps I trusted too much to my skill. I sought a laugh at them. The laugh is theirs. Good may it do them. The good-natured, careless look and gesture he threw the bystanders accorded well with the speech. To hear what more he had to say, they became quiet. Assured of victory over the body of the offended, he signed his companion to take the chariot to a safer distance, and addressed himself boldly to the woman. Now haste interested the good man here, whose pardon, if not granted now, I shall seek with the greater diligence hereafter. His daughter, I should say. She made him no reply. By palace thou art beautiful! Beware Apollo mistake thee not for his lost love! I wonder what land can boast herself thy mother. Turn not away! A truce! A truce! Where is the son of India in thine eyes? In the corners of thy mouth. Egypt hath set her love-signs. Per pole! Turn not to that slave, fair mistress, before proving merciful to this one. Tell me at least that I am pardoned. At this point she broke in upon him. Wilt thou come here? She asked, smiling and with gracious bend of the head, to bend her. Take the cup and fill it, I pray thee. She said to the latter, My father is thirsty. I am thy most willing servant. Ben her turned about to do the favour, and was face to face with Masala. Their glances met, the Jews defiant, the Romans sparkling with humour. O stranger, beautiful is cruel! Masala said, waving his hand to her. If Apollo get thee not, thou shalt not see me again. Without knowing thy country I cannot name of God to commend thee to. So by all the gods I will commend thee to myself. Seeing that Myrtles had the four composed and ready, he returned to the chariot. The woman looked after him as he moved away, and whatever else there was in her look there was no displeasure. Presently she received the water, her father drank, then she raised the cup to her lips, and, leaning down, gave it to Ben her, never action more graceful and gracious. Keep it, we pray of thee, it is full of blessings, all thine. Immediately the camel was aroused, and on his feet and about to go, when the old man called, Stand thou here? Ben her went to him respectfully. Thou hast served the stranger well to-day. There is but one God. In his holy name I thank thee. I am Balthazar, the Egyptian. In the great orchard of palms, beyond the village of Daphne, in the shade of the palms, shake Ildrum the generous abideth in his tents, and we are his guests. Seek us there. Thou shalt have welcome, sweet with the savor of the great full. Ben her was left in wonder at the old man's clear voice and reverend of manner. As he gazed after the two departing, he caught sight of Masala going as he had come, joyous, indifferent, and with a mocking laugh. CHAPTER IX As a rule there is no sureer way to the dislike of men than to behave well where they have behaved badly. In this instance, happily, Malak was an exception to the rule. The affair he had just witnessed raised Ben her in his estimation, since he could not deny him courage and address. Could he now get some insight into the young man's history? The results of the day would not be all unprofitable to good-master Simonides. On the latter point, referring to what he had as yet learned, two facts comprehended it all. The subject of his investigation was a Jew and the adopted son of a famous Roman. Another conclusion which might be of importance was beginning to formulate itself in the shrewd mind of the emissary. Between Masala and the son of the Doumbir there was a connection of some kind. But what was it, and how could it be reduced to assurance? With all his sounding, the ways and means of solution were not at call. In the heat of the perplexity Ben her himself came to his help. He laid his hand on Malak's arm and drew him out of the crowd, which was already going back to its interest in the grey old priest and the mystic fountain. "'Good Malak,' he said, stopping. May a man forget his mother?' The question was abrupt and without direction, and therefore of the kind which leaves the person addressed in a state of confusion. Malak looked into Ben her's face for a hint of meaning, but saw instead two bright red spots, one on each cheek, and in his eyes traces of what might have been repressed tears. Then he answered mechanically, "'No,' adding with fervour, "'Never,' and a moment after, when he began to recover himself, if he is an Israelite, never. And when at length he was completely recovered, my first lesson in the synagogue was the Shema. My next was the saying of the son of Sirach, "'Honor thy father with thy whole soul, and forget not the sorrows of thy mother.'" The red spots on Ben her's face deepened. "'The words bring my childhood back again, and Malak, they prove you a genuine Jew. I believe I can trust you.' Ben her let go the arm he was holding, and caught the folds of the gown, covering his own breast, and pressed them close, as if to smother a pain, or a feeling there as sharp as a pain. "'My father,' he said, "'bore a good name, and was not without honour in Jerusalem, where he dwelt. My mother at his death was in the prime of womanhood, and it is not enough to say of her she was good and beautiful, and her tongue was the law of kindness, and her works were the praise of all in the gates, and she smiled at days to come. I had a little sister, and she and I were the family, and we were so happy that I, at least, had never seen harm in the saying of the old rabbi. God could not be everywhere, and therefore he made mothers. One day an accident happened to a Roman in authority as he was riding past our house at the head of a cohort. The legionaries burst the gate and rushed in and seized us. I have not seen my mother or sister since. I cannot say they are dead or living. I do not know what became of them. But Malak, the man in the chariot yonder, was present at the separation. He gave us over to the captors. He heard my mother's prayer for her children, and he laughed when they dragged her away. Hardly may one say which graves deepest in memory, love or hate. Today I knew him afar, and Malak, he caught the listener's arm again. And Malak, he knows and takes with him now the secret I would give my life for. He could tell me if she lives, and where she is, and her condition. If she, no, they, much sorrow has made the two as one, if they are dead, he could tell where they died, and of what, and where their bones await my finding. And will he not? No. Why? I am a Jew, and he is a Roman. But Romans have tongues, and Jews, though ever so despised, have methods to beguile them. For such is he? No, and besides, the secret is one of state. All my father's property was confiscated and divided. Malak nodded his head slowly, much as to admit the argument, then he asked anew, did he not recognize you? He could not. I was sent to death in life, and have been long since accounted of the dead. I wonder you did not strike him, said Malak, yielding to a touch of passion. That would have been to put him past serving me forever. I would have had to kill him, and death, you know, keeps secrets better even than a guilty Roman. The man who, with so much to avenge, could so calmly put such an opportunity aside, must be confident of his future, or have ready some better design, and Malak's interest changed with the thought. It ceased to be that of an emissary and duty bound to another. Ben Hur was actually asserting a claim upon him for his own sake. In other words, Malak was preparing to serve him with good heart, and from downright admiration. After brief pause, Ben Hur resumed speaking. I would not take his life, good Malak. Against that extreme, the possession of the secret is for the present, at least, his safeguard. Yet I may punish him, and so you give me help, I will try. He is a Roman, said Malak, without hesitating, and I am of the tribe of Judah. I will help you. If you choose, put me under oath, under the most solemn oath. Give me your hand, that will suffice. As their hands fell apart, Ben Hur said, with lightened feeling, that I would charge you with is not difficult, good friend. Neither is it dreadful to conscience. Let us move on. They took the road which led to the right across the meadow, spoken of in the description of the coming to the fountain. Ben Hur was first to break the silence. Do you know, Sheikh Ildrim the generous? Yes. Where is his orchard of palms, or rather Malak, how far is it beyond the village of Daphne? Malak was touched by a doubt. He recalled the prettiness of the favor shown him by the woman at the fountain, and wondered if he who had the sorrows of a mother in mind was about to forget them for a lure of love. Yet he replied, the orchard of palms lies beyond the village two hours by horse, and one by swift camel. Thank you, and to your knowledge once more. Have the games of which you have told me been widely published, and when will they take place? The questions were suggestive, and if they did not restore Malak his confidence, they at least stimulated his curiosity. Oh yes, they will be of apple splendor. The prefect is rich and could afford to lose his place, yet, as is the way with successful men, his love of riches is no wise diminished, and to gain a friend at court, if nothing more, he must make a do for the consul Maxentius, who is coming hither to make final preparations for a campaign against the Parthians. The money there is in the preparations, the citizens of Antioch know from experience, so they have had permission to join the prefect and the honors intended for the great man. A month ago, Heralds went to the Four Quarters to proclaim the opening of the circus for the celebration. The name of the prefect would be of itself good guarantee of variety and magnificence, particularly throughout the East, but when to his promises Antioch joins hers, all the islands and the cities by the sea stand assured of the extraordinary, and will be here in person or by their most famous professionals. The fees offered are royal. And the circus, I have heard it a second only to the Maximus. At Rome, you mean. Well, ours seats 200,000 people, yours seats 75,000 more, yours is of marble, so is ours, in arrangement they are exactly the same. Are the rules the same? Malek smiled. If Antioch dared be original, son of Arius, Rome would not be the mistress she is. The laws of the circus Maximus govern except in one particular. There but forth chariots may start at once. Here all start without reference to number. That is the practice of the Greeks, said Ben Hur. Yes, Antioch is more Greek than Roman. So then, Malek, I may choose my own chariot. Your own chariot and horses, there is no restriction upon either. While replying, Malek observed the thoughtful look on Ben Hur's face give place to one of satisfaction. One thing more now, O Malek, when will the celebration be? Ah, your pardon, the other answered. Tomorrow and the next day, he said, counting aloud, Then, to speak in the Roman style, if the sea gods be propitious, the consul arrives. Yes, the sixth day from this we have the games. The time is short, Malek, but it is enough. The last words were spoken decisively. By the prophets of our old Israel, I will take to the reins again. Stay. A condition. Is there assurance that Missala will be a competitor? Malek now saw the plan, and all its opportunities for the humiliation of the Roman, and he had not been true descendant of Jacob, if, with all his interest wakened, he had not rushed to a consideration of the chances. His voice actually trembled, as he said. Have you the practice? Fear not, my friend, the winners in the Circus Maximus have held their crowns these three years at my will. Ask them. Ask the best of them, and they will tell you so. In the last great games the Emperor himself offered me his patronage, if I would take his horses in hand and run them against the entries of the world. But you did not? Malek spoke eagerly. I—I am a Jew! Benhur seemed shrinking within himself as he spoke. And though I wear a Roman name, I dared not do professionally a thing to sully my father's name in the cloisters and courts of the temple. In the palestre I could indulge practice which, if followed into the Circus, would become an abomination. And if I take to the course here, Malek, I swear it will be not for the prize or the winner's fee. Hold, swear not so! cried Malek. The fee is ten thousand cisterti, a fortune for life. Not for me, though the Prefect trebled at fifty times. Better than that, better than all the Imperial revenues from the first year of the First Caesar, I will make this race to humble my enemy. Vengeance is permitted by the law. Malek smiled and nodded as if saying, Right, right, trust me, a Jew, to understand a Jew. The Missala will drive, he said directly. He is committed to the race in many ways, by publication in the streets and in the baths and theatres, the palace in barracks, and to fix him past retreat, his name is on the tablets of every young spendthrift in Antioch. In wager, Malek? Yes, in wager, and every day he comes ostentatiously to practice as you saw him. Ah, and that is the chariot, and those the horses with which he will make the race. Thank you, thank you, Malek. You have served me well already. I am satisfied. Now be my guide to the orchard of palms, and give me introduction to shake Ildrem the generous. When? Today. His horses may be engaged to-morrow. You like them, then? Ben Hur answered with animation. I saw them from the stand an instant only, for Missala then drove up, and I might not look at anything else, yet I recognize them above the blood which is the wonder as well as the glory of the deserts. I never saw the kind before, except in the stables of Caesar. But once seen, they are always to be known. Tomorrow, upon meeting, I will know you, Malek, though you do not so much as salute me. I will know you by your face, by your form, by your manner, and by the same signs I will know them. And with the same certainty. If all that is said of them be true, and I can bring their spirit under control of mine, I can win the Cisterti, I said Malek, laughing. No, answered Ben Hur as quickly. I will do what better becomes a man born to the heritage of Jacob. I will humble mine enemy in a most public place. But, he added impatiently, we are losing time. How can we most quickly reach the tents of the shake? Malek took a moment for reflection. It is best we go straight to the village, which is fortunately nearby. If two swift camels are to be had for hire there, we will be on the road but an hour. Let us about it, then. The village was an assemblage of palaces and beautiful gardens, interspersed with cons of princely sort. Dramadaries were happily secured, and upon them the journey to the famous Orchard of Palms was begun. End of chapter. Book 4, Chapter 10 of Ben Hur This LibriVox recording is in the public domain, and is read by Mark Smith of Simpsonville, South Carolina. Ben Hur, A Tale of the Christ, by Lou Wallace. Book 4, Chapter 10 Beyond the village, the country was undulating and cultivated. In fact, it was the garden land of Antioch, with not a foot lost to labor. The steep faces of the hills were terraced. Even the hedges were brighter of the trailing vines which, besides the lure of shade, offered passers-by sweet promises of wine to come, and grapes in clustered purple ripeness. Over melon patches, and through apricot and fig-tree groves, and groves of oranges and limes, the white-washed houses of the farmers were seen, and everywhere plenty, the smiling daughter of peace, gave notice by her thousand signs that she was at home, making the generous traveller merry at heart, until he was even disposed to give Rome her dues. Occasionally also, views were had of Taurus and Lebanon, between which, a separating line of silver, the Orantes placidly pursued its way. In course of their journey the friends came to the river, which they followed with the windings of the road, now over bold bluffs, then then into veils, all alike allotted for country seats, and if the land was in full foliage of oak and sycamore and myrtle, and bay and arbutus, and perfuming jasmine, the river was bright with slanted sunlight, which would have slept where it fell, but for ships in endless procession, gliding with the current, tacking for the wind, or bounding under the impulse of oars. Some coming, some going, and all suggestive of the sea, and distant peoples, and famous places, and things coveted on account of their rarity. To the fancy there is nothing so whinsome as a white sail, seaward-blown, unless it be a white sail, homeward-bound, its voyage happily done. And down the shore the friends went continuously till they came to a lake, fed by backwater from the river, clear, deep, and without current. An old palm tree dominated the angle of the inlet. Turning to the left at the foot of the tree, Malak clapped his hands and shouted, Look, look, the orchard of palms. The scene was nowhere else to be found, unless in the favoured oases of Arabia, or the Ptolemyan farms along the Nile. And to sustain a sensation new as it was delightful, Benhur was admitted into a tract of land, apparently without limit, and level as a floor. All underfoot was fresh grass. In Syria the rarest and most beautiful production of the soil. If he looked up it was to see the sky pale blue through the groinery of countless date-bearers, very patriarchs of their kind, so numerous and old, and of such mighty girth, so tall, so serried, so wide of branch, each branch so perfect with fronds, plumey and wax-like and brilliant, they seemed enchanters enchanted. Here was the grass colouring the very atmosphere. There the lake, cool and clear, rippling but a few feet under the surface, and helping the trees to their long life in old age. Did the grove of Daphne excel this one? And the palms, as if they knew Benhur's thought, and would win him after a way of their own, seemed, as he passed under their arches, to stir and sprinkle him with dewy coolness. The road wound in close parallelism with the shore of the lake, and when it carried the travellers down to the water's edge, there was always on that side a shining expanse limited not far off by the opposite shore, on which, as on this one, no tree but the palm was permitted. See that? said Malak, pointing to a giant of the place. Each ring upon its trunk marks a year of its life. Count them from root to branch, and if the shake tells you the grove was planted before the Seleucidae were heard of in Antioch, do not doubt him. One may not look at a perfect palm-tree, but that, with the subtlety all its own, it assumes a presence for itself, and makes a poet of the beholder. This is the explanation of the honours it has received, beginning with the Artists of the First Kings, who could find no form in all the earth to serve them so well as a model for the pillars of their palaces and temples, and for the same reason Ben Hur was moved to say. As I saw him at the stand today, good Malak, Sheikh Ildrum appeared to be a very common man. The rabbis in Jerusalem would look down upon him, I fear, as a son of a dog of Edom. How came he in possession of the orchard? And how has he been able to hold it against the greed of Roman governors? If blood derives excellence from time, son of Arius, then is old Ildrum a man, though he be an uncircumcised Edomite. Malak spoke warmly. All his fathers before him were shakes. One of them, I shall not say when he lived or did the good deed, once helped a king who was being hunted with swords. The story says he loaned him a thousand horsemen who knew the paths of the wilderness and its hiding-places as shepherds know the scant hills they inhabit with their flocks, and they carried him here and there until the opportunity came, and then with their spears they slew the enemy and set him upon his throne again. And the king, it is said, remembered the service, and brought the son of the desert to this place, and bade him set up his tent and bring his family and his herds, for the lake and trees, and all the land from the river to the nearest mountains, were his and his children's for ever. And they have never been disturbed in the possession. The rulers succeeding have found it policy to keep good terms with the tribe, to whom the Lord has given increase of men and horses and camels and riches, making them masters of many highways between cities, so that it is with them any time they please to say to commerce, go in peace, or stop, and what they say shall be done. Even the prefect and the citadel overlooking Antioch thinks it happy day with him when Ilderim, sir named the generous, on account of good deeds done and to all manner of men, with his wives and children, and his trains of camels and horses, and his belongings of shake, moving as our fathers Abraham and Jacob moved, comes up to exchange briefly his bitter wells for the pleasantness you see about us. How is it, then? said Ben Hur, who had been listening unmindful of the slow gate of the dramataries. I saw the shake tear his beard while he cursed himself that he had ever put trust in a Roman. Caesar, had he heard him, might have said, I like not such a friend as this, put him away. It would be but true judgment, Malik replied, smiling. Ilderim is not a lover of Rome. He has a grievance. Three years ago the Parthians rode across the road from Basra to Damascus and fell upon a caravan laden, among other things, with the incoming tax returns of a district over that way. They slew every creature taken, which the censors in Rome could have forgiven if the imperial treasure had been spared and forwarded. The farmers of the taxes, being chargeable with the loss, complained to Caesar, and Caesar held Herod to payment, and Herod, on his part, seized property of Ilderim, whom he charged with treasonable neglect of duty. The shake appealed to Caesar, and Caesar has made him such answer as might be looked for from the unwinking sphinx. The old man's heart has been aching sore ever since, and he nurses his wrath and takes pleasure in its daily growth. He can do nothing, Malik. Well, said Malik, that involves another explanation, which I will give you if we can draw nearer. But see, the hospitality of the shake begins early. The children are speaking to you. The dromedary stopped, and Ben Hur looked down upon some little girls of this Syrian peasant class, who were offering him their baskets filled with dates. The fruit was freshly gathered, and not to be refused. He stooped and took it, and as he did so a man in the tree by which they were halted cried, Peace to you, and welcome! Their thanks said to the children the friends moved on at such gate as the animals chose. You must know, Malik continued, pausing now and then to dispose of a date, that the merchant Simonides gives me his confidence, and sometimes flatters me by taking me into counsel, and as I attend to him at his house I have made acquaintance with many of his friends, who, knowing my footing with the host, talked to him freely in my presence. In that way I became somewhat intimate with Shake Yldoram. For a moment Ben Hur's attention wandered. Before his mind's eye there arose the image, pure, gentle, and appealing, of Esther, the merchant's daughter. Her dark eyes bright with a peculiar Jewish luster met his in modest gaze. He heard her step as when she approached him with the wine, and her voice, as she tendered him the cup. And he acknowledged to himself again all the sympathy she manifested for him, and manifested so plainly that words were unnecessary, and so sweetly that words would have been but a detraction. The vision was exceeding pleasant, but upon his turning to Malik it flew away. A few weeks ago, said Malik, continuing, the old Arab called on Simonides, and found me present. I observed he seemed much moved about something, and in deference offered to withdraw, but he himself forbade me. As you are an Israelite, he said, Stay, for I have a strange story to tell. The emphasis on the word Israelite excited my curiosity. I remained, and this is in substance his story. I cut it short because we are drawing nigh the tent, and I leave the details to the good man himself. A good many years ago, three men called it Ilderim's tent out in the wilderness. They were all foreigners, a Hindu, a Greek, and an Egyptian. And they had come on camels, the largest he had ever seen, and all white. He welcomed them and gave them rest. Next morning they arose and prayed a prayer new to the shake. A prayer addressed to God and his son. This with much mystery besides. After breaking fast with him, the Egyptian told who they were, and whence they had come. Each had seen a star, out of which a voice had bitten them go to Jerusalem and asked, Where is he that is born king of the Jews? They obeyed. From Jerusalem they were led by a star to Bethlehem, where in a cave they found a child newly born, which they fell down and worshipped. And after worshipping it, and giving it costly presents, and bearing witness of what it was, they took to their camels and fled without pause to the shake, because if Herod, meaning him surnamed the Great, could lay hands upon them he would certainly kill them. And faithful to his habit, the shake took care of them, and kept them concealed for a year, when they departed, leaving with him gifts of great value, and each going a separate way. It is indeed a most wonderful story, Benher exclaimed at its conclusion, but did you say they were to ask at Jerusalem? They were to ask, Where is he that is born king of the Jews? Was that all? There was more to the question, but I cannot recall it. And they found the child? Yes, and worshipped him. It is a miracle, Malak. Ildrem is a grave man, though excitable as all Arabs are, a lie on his tongue is impossible. Malak spoke positively. Thereupon the dramataries were forgotten, and quite as unmindful as their writers they turned off the road to the growing grass. Has Ildrem heard nothing more of the three men? asked Benher. What became of them? Ah, yes, that was the cause of his coming to Simonides the day of which I was speaking. Only the night before that day the Egyptian reappeared to him. Where? Here at the door of the tent to which we are coming. How knew he the man? As you knew the horses today, by face and manner. By nothing else. He rode the same great white camel and gave him the same name, Balthazar the Egyptian. It is a wonder of the lords. Benher spoke with excitement, and Malak wondering, asked, Why so? Balthazar, you said. Yes, Balthazar the Egyptian. That was the name the old man gave us at the fountain today. Then at the reminder Malak became excited. It is true, he said, and the camel was the same, and you saved the man's life. And the woman, said Benher, like one speaking to himself, the woman was his daughter. He fell to thinking, and even the reader will say he was having a vision of the woman, and that it was more welcome than that of Esther, if only because it stayed longer with him, but no. Tell me again, he said presently. Were the three to ask, Where is he that is to be king of the Jews? Not exactly. The words were, Born to be king of the Jews. Those were the words as the old shake caught them first in the desert, and he has ever since been waiting the coming of the king, nor can any one shake his faith that he will come. How? As king? Yes, and bringing the doom of Rome, so says the shake. Benher kept silent a while, thinking and trying to control his feelings. The old man is one of many millions, he said slowly, one of many millions each with a wrong to avenge, and this strange faith, Malak, is bred in wine to his hope. For who but a Herod may be king of the Jews while Rome endures? But, following the story, did you hear what Simonides said to him? If Ilderum is a grave man, Simonides is a wise one, Malak replied. I listened, and he said, But hark, someone comes overtaking us. The noise grew louder, until presently they heard the rumble of wheels mixed with the beating of horse hoofs. A moment later, shake Ilderum himself appeared on horseback, followed by a train, among which were the four wine-red Arabs drawing the chariot. The shake's chin, in its muffling of long white beard, was drooped upon his breast. Our friends had out travelled him, but at sight of them he raised his head and spoke kindly. Peace to you! Ah, my friend Malak! Welcome! And tell me you are not going, but just come? That you have something for me from the good Simonides? May the Lord of his fathers keep him in life for many years to come. I take up the straps, both of you, and follow me. I have bread and laban, or if you prefer it, arach, and the flesh of young kid. Come! They followed after him to the door of the tent, in which, when they were dismounted, he stood to receive them, holding a platter with three cups, filled with creamy liquor, just drawn from a great smoke-stained skin-bottle, pendant from the central post. Drink! he said heartily. Drink, for this is the fear-naught of the tent-man. They each took a cup, and drank till but the foam remained. Enter now, in God's name! And when they were gone in, Malak took the shake aside and spoke to him privately, after which he went to Ben Hur and excused himself. I have told the shake about you, and he will give you the trial of his horses in the morning. He is your friend. Having done for you all I can, you must do the rest and let me return to Antioch. There is one there who has my promise to meet him to-night. I have no choice but to go. I will come back to-morrow, prepared, if all goes well in the meantime, to stay with you until the games are over. With blessings given and received, Malak set out in return. CHAPTER XI What time the lower horn of a new moon touched the castellated piles of Mount Sopias, and two-thirds of the people of Antioch were out on their housetops comforting themselves with the night breeze when it blew, and with fans when it failed, Simonides sat in the chair which had come to be a part of him, and from the terrace looked down over the river, and his ships a-swing at their moorings. The wall at his back cast its shadow broadly over the water to the opposite shore. Above him the endless trap upon the bridge went on. Esther was holding a plate for him, containing his frugal supper, some wheaten cakes, light as wafers, some honey, and a bowl of milk into which he now and then dipped the wafers after dipping them into the honey. Malak is a-laggard tonight, he said, showing where his thoughts were. Do you believe he will come? Esther asked. Unless he is taken to the sea or the desert, and is yet following on, he will come. Simonides spoke with quiet confidence. He may write, she said. Not so, Esther. He would have dispatched a letter when he found he could not return and told me so. Because I have not received such a letter, I know he can come and will. Hope so! she said, very softly. Something in the utterance attracted his attention. It might have been the tone, it might have been the wish. The smallest bird cannot light upon the greatest tree without sending a shock to its most distant fibre. Every mind is at times no less sensitive to the most trifling words. You wish him to come, Esther? he asked. Yes, she said, lifting her eyes to his. Why can you tell me? he persisted. Because she hesitated, then began again. Because the young man is— The stop was full. Our master, is that the word? Yes. And you still think I should not suffer him to go away without telling him to come, if he chooses, and take us? And all we have, all, Esther, the goods, the shekels, the ships, the slaves, and the mighty credit, which is a mantle of cloth of gold and finest silver spun for me by the greatest of the angels of men. Success! she made no answer. Does that move you to nothing? No, he said, with the slightest taint of bitterness. Well, I have found, Esther, the worst reality is never unendurable when it comes out from behind the clouds through which we at first see it darkly. Never, not even the rack. I suppose it will be so with death. And by that philosophy the slavery to which we are going must after a while become sweet. It pleases me even now to think what a favoured man our master is. The fortune cost him nothing, not an anxiety, not a drop of sweat, not so much as a thought. It attaches to him undreamed of, and it is youth. And, Esther, let me waste a little vanity with the reflection. He gets what he could not go into the market and buy with all the pelf in a sum. Thee, my child, my darling, thou blossom from the tomb of my lost Rachel. He drew her to him, and kissed her twice, once for herself, once for her mother. Say not so, she said, when his hand fell from her neck. Let us think better of him. He knows what sorrow is, and will set us free. Ah! thy instincts are fine, Esther. Thy instincts are fine, Esther, and thou knowest I lean upon them, in doubtful cases where good or bad is to be pronounced of a person standing before thee as he stood this morning. But—but— His voice rose and hardened. These limbs upon which I cannot stand, this body drawn and beaten out of human shape, they are not all I bring him of myself. Oh, no, no! I bring him a soul which is triumphed over torture, and Roman malice keener than any torture. I bring him a mind which is eyes to see gold at a distance farther than the ships of Solomon sailed, and power to bring it to hand. I, Esther, into my palm here, for the fingers to grip and keep, lest it take wings at some other's word, a mind skilled at scheming. He stopped and laughed. Why, Esther, before the new moon which in the courts of the temple on the holy hill, they are this moment celebrating, passes into its next quartering, I could ring the world so as to startle, even Caesar. For know you, child, I have that faculty which is better than any one sense, better than a perfect body, better than courage and will, better than experience, ordinarily the best product of the longest lives, the faculty divinest of men, but which, he stopped and laughed again, not bitterly but with real zest, but which even the great do not sufficiently account, while with the herd it is a nonexistent, the faculty of drawing men to my purpose and holding them faithfully to its achievement, by which, as against things to be done, I multiply myself into hundreds and thousands. So the captains of my ships plough the seas, and bring me honest returns. So Malak follows the youth, our master, and will. Just then a footstep was heard upon the terrace. Ha, Esther, said I not so. He is here, and we will have tidings. For thy sake, sweet child, my lily just budded, I pray the Lord God, who has not forgotten his wandering sheep of Israel, that they be good and comforting. Now we will know if he will let thee go with all thy beauty, and me with all my faculties. Malak came to the chair. Peace to you, good master, he said, with a low obeisance. And to you, Esther, thou excellent of daughters. He stood before them deferentially, and the attitude and the address left it difficult to define his relation to them. The one was that of a servant, the other indicated the familiar and friend. On the other side, Simonides, as was his habit in business, after answering the salutation, went straight to the subject. What have the young man, Malak? The events of the day were told quietly, and in the simplest words, and until he was through there was no interruption, nor did the listener in the chair so much as move a hand during the narration. But for his eyes wide open and bright, and an occasional long-drawn breath, he might have been accounted an effigy. Thank you, thank you, Malak, he said, heartily at the conclusion. You have done well, no one could have done better. Now what say you of the young man's nationality? He is an Israelite, good master, and of the tribe of Judah. You are positive? Very positive. He appears to have told you but little of his life. He has somewhat reamed to be prudent. I might call him distrustful. He baffled all my attempts upon his confidence until we started from the Castilian fount going to the village of Daphne. A place of abomination! Why went he there? I would say from curiosity, the first motive of the many who go. But very strangely he took no interest in the things he saw. Of the temple he merely asked if it were Grecian. Good master, the young man has a trouble of mine from which he would hide, and he went to the grove, I think, as we go to sepulchres with our dead. He went to bury it. That were well, if so, Simonides said in a low voice, then louder. Malak, the curse of the time is prodigality. The poor make themselves poorer as apes of the rich, and the merely rich carry themselves like princes. Saw you signs of the weakness in the youth? Did he display monies, coin of Rome or Israel? None. None, good master. Surely, Malak, where there are so many inducements to folly, so much I mean to eat and drink, surely he made you generous offer of some sort, his age of nothing more would warrant that much. He neither ate nor drank in my company. In what he said or did, Malak, could you in any wise detect his master idea? You know they peep through cracks close enough to stop the wind. Give me to understand you, said Malak, in doubt. Well, you know we nor speak nor act, much less decide grave questions concerning ourselves, except as we be driven by a motive. In that respect, what made you of him? As to that, master Simonides, I can answer with much assurance. He is devoted to finding his mother and sister, that first. Then he has a grievance against Rome, and as the masala of whom I told you had something to do with the wrong, the great present object is to humiliate him. The meeting at the fountain furnished an opportunity, but it was put aside as not sufficiently public. The masala is influential, said Simonides thoughtfully. Yes, but the next meeting will be in the circus. Well, and then? The son of Arius will win. How know you? Malak smiled. I am judging by what he says. Is that all? No, there is a much better sign, his spirit. I? But Malak, his idea of vengeance, what is its scope? Does he limit it to the few who did him the wrong, or does he take in the many? And more, is his feeling but the vagary of a sensitive boy, or has it the seasoning of suffering manhood to give it endurance? You know, Malak, the vengeful thought that has root merely in the mind is but a dream of idlest sort, which one clear day will dissipate, while revenge, the passion, is a disease of the heart which climbs up, up to the brain, and feeds itself on both alike. In this question, Simonides, for the first time, showed signs of feeling. He spoke with rapid utterance, and with clenched hands, and the eagerness of a man illustrating the disease he described. Good, my master! Malak replied. One of my reasons for believing the young man of Jew is the intensity of his hate. It was plain to me he had himself under watch, as was natural, seeing how long he has lived in an atmosphere of Roman jealousy. Yet I saw it blaze, once when he wanted to know Ildrum's feeling towards Rome, and again when I told him the story of the shake and the wise man, and spoke of the question, Where is he that is born king of the Jews? Simonides leaned forward quickly. Ah, Malak, his words, give me his words! Let me judge the impression the mystery made upon him. He wanted to know the exact words. Were they to be, or born to be? It appeared he was struck by a seeming difference in the effect of the two phrases. Simonides settled back into his pose of listening judge. Then, said Malak, I told him Ildrum's view of the mystery, that the king would come with the doom of Rome. The young man's blood rose over his cheeks and forehead, and he said earnestly, Who but a Herod can be king while Rome endures? Meaning what? That the empire must be destroyed before there could be another rule. Simonides gazed for a time at the ships and their shadows, slowly swinging together in the river. When he looked up it was to end the interview. Enough Malak, he said. Get you to eat, and make ready to return to the orchard of palms. You must help the young man in his coming trial. Come to me in the morning. I will send a letter to Ildrum. Then, in an undertone, as if to himself, he added, I may attend the circus myself. When Malak, after the customary benediction given and received, was gone, Simonides took a deep draft of milk, and seemed refreshed and easy of mind. Put the meal down, Esther. He said. It is over. She obeyed. Here now. She resumed her place upon the arm of the chair close to him. God is good to me, very good, he said fervently. His habit is to move in mystery, yet sometimes he permits us to think we see and understand him. I am old, dear, and must go. But now, in this eleventh hour, when my hope was beginning to die, he sends me this one with a promise. And I am lifted up. I see the way to a great part in a circumstance itself so great that it shall be as a new birth to the whole world. And I see a reason for the gift of my great riches, and the end for which they were designed. Fairly, my child, I take hold on life anew. Esther nestled closer to him, as if to bring his thoughts from there far flying. The king has been born, he continued, imagining he was still speaking to her. And he must be near the half of common life. Balthazar says he was a child on his mother's lap when he saw him, and gave him presence in worship. And Ilderum holds it was twenty-seven years ago, last December, when Balthazar and his companions came to his tent, asking a hiding-place from Herod. Wherefore the coming cannot now be long delayed. Tonight, to-morrow it may be. Holy fathers of Israel, what happiness in the thought! I seem to hear the crash of the fallings of old walls, and the clamour of a universal change. I, and for the uttermost joy of men, the earth opens to take Rome in, and they look up and laugh and sing that she is not, while we are. Then he laughed at himself. Why, Esther, heard you ever the like? Surely I have on me the passion of a singer, the heat of blood and the thrill of Miriam and David. In my thoughts, which should be those of a plain worker in figures and facts, there is a confusion of symbols clashing in harp-strings loud-beaten, and the voices of a multitude standing around a new risen throne. I will put the thinking by for the present. Only, dear, when the king comes, he will need money and men, for as he was a child-board of woman, he will be but a man, after all, bound to human ways, as you and I are. And for the money he will have need of, getters and keepers, and for the men leaders. There, there, see you not a broad road for my walking, and the running of the youth our master? And at the end of it glory and revenge for us both? And, and, he pause, struck with the selfishness of a scheme in which she had no part or good result, then added, kissing her, and happiness for thy mother's child. She sat still, saying nothing. Then he remembered the difference in natures, and the law by which we are not permitted always to take delight in the same cause, or be equally afraid of the same thing. He remembered she was but a girl. Of what are you thinking, Esther? he said, in his common home-like way. If the thought have the form of a wish, give it me, little one, give it me, little one, while the power remains mine, for power, you know, is a fretful thing, and hath its wings always spread for flight. She answered with a simplicity, almost childish. Send for him, Father. Send for him to-night, and do not let him go into the circus. Ah! he said, prolonging the exclamation, and again his eyes fell upon the river. Where the shadows were more shadowy than ever, since the moon had sunk far down behind Sulpius, leaving the city to the ineffectual stars. Shall we say it, reader? He was touched by a twinge of jealousy. If she should really love the young master. Oh no! that could not be. She was too young. But the idea had fast grip, and directly held him still in cold. She was sixteen. He knew it well. On the last natal day he had gone with her to the shipyard where there was a launch, and the yellow flag which the galley bore to its bridle, with the waves had on it, ester. So they celebrated the day together. Yet the fact struck him now with the force of a surprise. There are realizations which come to us all painfully. Mostly, however, such as pertain to ourselves, that we are growing old, for instance, and more terrible, that we must die. Such a one crept into his heart, shadowy as the shadows, yet substantial enough to ring from him a sigh which was almost a-grown. It was not sufficient that she should enter upon her young womanhood, a servant, but she must carry to her master her affections the truth and tenderness and delicacy of which he the father so well knew, because to this time they had all been his own, undividedly. The fiend whose task it is to torture us with fears and bitter thoughts, seldom does his work by haves. In the pang of the moment the brave old man lost sight of his new scheme and of the miraculous king its subject. By a mighty effort, however, he controlled himself and asked calmly, Not go into the circus, ester? Why, child? It is not a place for a son of Israel, father. Rebinical! Rebinical, ester! Is that all? The tone of the inquiry was searching and went to her heart, which began to beat loudly, so loudly she could not answer. A confusion new and strangely pleasant fell upon her. The young man is to have the fortune, he said, taking her hand, and speaking more tenderly. He is to have the ships and the shekels all, ester, all. Yet I did not feel poor, for thou wert left me, and thine love so like the dead Rachel's. Tell me, is he to have that, too? She bent over him and laid her cheek against his head. Speak, ester! I will be the stronger of the knowledge, in warning there is strength. She sat up then and spoke as if she were truth's holy self. Comfort thee, father, I will never leave thee, though he take my love, I will be thy handmaid ever is now. And stooping, she kissed him. And more, she said, continuing, he is comely in my sight, and the pleading of his voice drew me to him. And I shuddered to think of him in danger. Yes, father, I would be more than glad to see him again. Still, the love that is unrequited cannot be perfect love, wherefore I will wait a time, remembering I am thy daughter and my mother's. A very blessing of the Lord art thou, ester, a blessing to keep me rich, though all else be lost, and by his holy name and everlasting life, I swear thou shalt not suffer. At his request, a little later, the servant came and rolled the chair into the room, where he sat for a time thinking of the coming of the king, while she went off and slept the sleep of the innocent. The palace across the river nearly opposite Simonides' place is said to have been completed by the famous Epiphanes, and was all such a habitation can be imagined, though he was a builder whose taste ran to the immense, rather than the classical, now so-called, an architectural imitator, who, in fact, was the only one in the world who had ever been in the palace of the king, had ever been in the palace of the king, rather than the classical, now so-called, an architectural imitator, in other words, of the Persians instead of the Greeks. The wall enclosing the whole island to the water's edge, and built for the double purpose of bulwark against the river, and defence against the mob, was said to have rendered the palace unfit for constant occupancy, in so much that the legates abandoned it and moved to another residence erected for them on the western ridge of Mount Sulpius, under the Temple of Jupiter. Persians were not wanting, however, who flatly denied the bill against the ancient abode. They said, with shrewdness at least, that the real object of the removal of the legates was not a more helpful locality, but the assurance offered them by the huge barracks, named, according to the prevalent style, Citadel, situated just over the way on the eastern ridge of the Mount, and the opinion-head plausible showing. Among other pertinent things it was remarked that the palace was kept in perpetual readiness for use, and when a consul, general of the army, king, or visiting potentate of any kind, arrived at Antioch, quarters where it once assigned him on the island. As we have to do with but one apartment in the old pile, the residue of it is left to the reader's fancy, and as pleases him he may go through its gardens, baths, halls, and labyrinth of rooms to the pavilions on the roof, all furnished as became a house of fame in a city which was more nearly Milton's gorgeous east than any other in the world. At this age the apartment alluded to would be termed a saloon. It was quite spacious, floored with polished marble slabs, and lighted in the day by skylights in which coloured mica served as glass. The walls were broken by Atlantis, no two of which were alike, but all supporting a cornice wrought with arabesques exceedingly intricate in form, and more elegant on account of super editions of colour, blue, green, Tyrion purple, and gold. Around the room ran a continuous divan of Indian silks and wool of cashmere. The furniture consisted of tables and stools of Egyptian patterns grotesquely carved. We have left Simonides in his chair perfecting his scheme and aid of the miraculous king, whose coming he has decided is so close at hand. Esther is asleep, and now, having crossed the river by the bridge, and made way through the lion-guarded gate and a number of Babylonian halls and courts, let us enter the gilded saloon. There are five chandeliers hanging by sliding bronze chains from the ceiling, one in each corner, and in the centre, one. Enormous pyramids of lighted lamps, illuminating even the demoniac faces of the Atlantis and the complex tracery of the cornice. About the tables, seated or standing, or moving restlessly from one to another, there are probably a hundred persons whom we must study at least for a moment. They are all young, some of them little more than boys. That they are Italians and mostly Romans is past doubt. They all speak Latin in purity, while each one appears in the indoor dress of the great capital on the Tiber, that is, in tunics short of sleeve and skirt, a style of vesture well adapted to the climate of Antioch, and especially comfortable in the too-close atmosphere of the saloon. On the divan here and there, Togas and Lecerne lie where they have been carelessly tossed, some of them significantly bordered with purple. On the divan also lie sleepers, stretched at ease, whether they were overcome by the heat and fatigue of the sultry day, or by Bacchus we will not pause to inquire. The hum of voices is loud and incessant. Sometimes there is an explosion of laughter, sometimes a burst of rage or exultation, but overall prevails a sharp, prolonged rattle, at first somewhat confusing to the non-familiar. If we approach the tables, however, the mystery solves itself. The company is at the favorite games, drafts and dice, singly or together, and the rattle is merely of the tesserae, or ivory cubes, loudly shaken, and the moving of the hosties on the checkered boards. Who are the company? Good Flavius, said a player, holding his peace in suspended movement. Thou seest Jan Lecerne, that one in front of us on the divan. It is fresh from the shop, and hath a shoulder buckle of gold brought as a palm. Well, said Flavius, and tend upon his game, I have seen such before, wherefore thine may not be old, yet by the girdle of Venus it is not new. What of it? Nothing, only I would give it to find a man who knows everything. For something cheaper I will find thee here several with purple who will take thy offer. But play. There, check. So, by all the Jupiters, now what sayest thou, again? Be it so. And the wager? Ascestercium. Then each drew his tablets and stylus and made a memorandum, and while they were resetting the pieces, Flavius returned to his friend's remark. A man who knows everything? Hare-kill! The oracles would die. Why wouldst thou with such a monster? Answer to one question, my Flavius, then, purple, I will cut his throat. And the question? I would have him tell me the hour. Hours, said I. Nay, the minute. Maxentius will arrive to-morrow. Good play! Good play! Have you? And why the minute? Hast thou ever stood uncovered in the Syrian sun on the quay at which he will land? The fires of the Vesta are not so hot, and by the stator of our father Romulus I would die if die I must in Rome. Avernus is here. There, and the square before the forum, I could stand, and with my hand raised thus touched the floor of the gods. Ha! By Venus, my Flavius, thou didst beguile me. I have lost. Oh, fortune! Again! I must have back my Cistercium. Be it so! And they played again and again, and when day, ceiling through the skylights, began to dim the lamps, it found the two in the same places, at the same table, still at the game. Like most of the company they were military attachés of the consul, awaiting his arrival and amusing themselves, meantime. During this conversation a party entered the room, and, unnoticed at first, proceeded to the central table. The signs were that they had come from a revel just dismissed. Some of them kept their feet with difficulty. Around the leader's brow was a chaplet which marked him master of the feast, if not the giver. The wine had made no impression upon him, unless to heighten his beauty, which was of the most manly Roman style. He carried his head high raised, the blood flushed his lips and cheeks brightly, his eyes glittered. Though the manner in which, shrouded in a toga spotless white and of ample folds, he walked was too nearly imperial for one sober and not a Caesar. In going to the table, he made room for himself and his followers with little ceremony and no apologies, and when at length he stopped and looked over it and at the players they all turned to him with a shout like a cheer. Masala! Masala! they cried. Those in distant quarters hearing the cry re-echoed it where they were. Instantly there was dissolution of groups and breaking up of games and a general rush towards the center. Masala took the demonstration indifferently and proceeded presently to show the ground of his popularity. A health to thee, Drusus, my friend! he said to the player next at his right. A health! and thy tablets a moment! He raised the waxen boards, glanced at the murmuranda of wagers, and tossed them down. Daeneri, only Daeneri, coin of cartmen and butchers, he said with a scornful laugh. By the drunken Cimele, to what is Rome coming, when a Caesar sits of knights waiting a turn of fortune to bring him but a beggarly Daenerius. The scion of the Drusy read into his brows, but the bystanders broke in upon his reply by surging closer around the table and shouting, The Masala, the Masala! Men of the Tiber, Masala continued, resting a box with a dice in it from a hand nearby. Who is he most favored of the gods? A Roman. Who is he lawgiver of the nations? A Roman. Who is he by sword-right the universal master? Company were of the easily inspired and the thought was one to which they were born. In a twinkling they snatched the answer from him. A Roman! A Roman! they shouted. Yet, yet, he lingered to catch their ears. Yet there is a better than the best of Rome. He tossed his patrician head and paused as if to sting them with his sneer. Here ye, he asked, there is a better than the best of Rome. I, Hercules, cried one. Bacchus yelled a satirist. Jove! Jove! thundered the crowd. No, Masala answered, among men. Name him! Name him! they demanded. I will, he said, the next lull. He who to the perfection of Rome hath added the perfection of the east, who to the arm of conquest which is western hath also the art needful to the enjoyment of dominion which is eastern. Per pole his best is a Roman after all, someone shouted, and there was a great laugh and long clapping of hands had admission that Masala had the advantage. In the east, he continued, we have no gods, only wine, women, and fortune, and the greatest of them is fortune. Wherefore our motto, who dareth what I dare? Fit for the Senate, fit for battle, fit is for him who, seeking the best, challenges the worst. His voice dropped into an easy familiar tone, but without relaxing the ascendancy he had gained. In the great chest up in the citadel I have five talents coin current in the markets, and here are the receipts for them. From his tunic he drew a roll of paper, and flinging it on the table continued amidst breathless silence every eye having him in view fixed on his every ear listening. The sum lies there the measure of what I dare. Who of you dares so much? You are silent. Is it too great? I will strike off one talent. What? Still silent? Come then, throw me once for these three talents, only three. For two? For one, one at least, one for the honour of the river by which you were born, Rome east against Rome west, Orantis the barbarous against Tiber the sacred. He rattled the dice overhead while waiting. The Orantis against the Tiber, he repeated with an increase of scornful emphasis. Not a man moved. Then he flung the box upon the table, and laughing took up the receipts. By the Olympian, Jove, I know now you have fortunes to make or to mend. Therefore are you come to Antioch. Ho, Sicilius! Here, Missala, cried a man behind him. Here am I, perishing in the mob, and begging a drachma to settle with a ragged ferryman. But Pluto, take me! These new ones have not so much as an obelisk among them. The sally provoked a burst of laughter under which the saloon rang and rang again. Missala alone kept his gravity. Go thou, he said to Sicilius, to the chamber whence we came, and bid the servants bring the emphore here, and the cups and goblets. If these are countrymen, looking for fortune, have not purses by the Syrian Bacchus I will see if they are not better blessed with stomachs. Haste thee! Then he turned to Drusus with a laugh heard throughout the apartment. My friend, be not thou offended, because I leveled the Caesar in thee down to the denarii. Thou seest I did but use the name to try these fine fledglings of our old Rome. Come, my Drusus, come! He took up the box again and rattled the dice merrily. Here, for what some thou wilt, let us measure fortunes. The manner was frank, cordial, winsome. Drusus melted in a moment. By the dimfay, yes, he said, laughing, I will throw with thee Missala for a denarius. A very boyish person was looking over the table watching the scene. Suddenly Missala turned to him. Who art thou? he asked. The lad drew back. Nay, by Caster. And his brother too, I meant no offence. It is a rule among men, in matters other than dice, to keep the record closest when the deal is leased. I have need of a clerk. Wilt thou serve me? The young fellow drew his tablets ready to keep the score. The manner was irresistible. Hold, Missala, hold! cried Drusus. I know not if it be ominous to stay the poised dice with the question, but one occurs to me, and I must ask it, though Venus slapped me with her girdle. Nay, my Drusus, Venus with her girdle off is Venus in love. To thy question, I will make the throw and hold it against Miss Chats. Thus! he turned the box upon the table and held it firmly over the dice. And Drusus asked, Did you ever see one Quintus Arius? The du oomvir? No, his son. I knew not he had a son. Well, it is nothing, Drusus added indifferently. Only, my Missala, Pollux was not more like Caster than Arius' like thee. The remark had the effect of a signal. Twenty voices took it up. True, true, his eyes, his face, they cried. What, answered one, disgusted, Missala is a Roman Arius as a Jew. Thou sayest right, a third exclaimed, He is a Jew, or Momus lent his mother the wrong mask. There was promise of a dispute, saying which Missala interposed. The wine is not come, my Drusus, And as thou seeest, I have the freckled pithius As they were dogs in leash. As to Arius, I will accept thy opinion of him, So thou tell me more about him. Well, be he Jew or Roman, And by the great God Pan I say it not in disrespect Of thy feelings, my Missala. This Arius is handsome and brave and shrewd. The Emperor offered him favor and patronage, Which he refused. He came up through mystery, And keepeth distance as if he felt himself better, Or knew himself worse than the rest of us. In the palestre he was unmatched. He played with the blue-eyed giants from the Rhine, And the hornless bulls of Sarmatia as they were willow wisps. The Duumvir left him vastly rich. He has a passion for arms, and thinks of nothing but war. Maxentius admitted him into his family, And he was to have taken ship with us, but we lost him at Ravenna. Nevertheless he arrived safely. We heard of him this morning. Perpol, instead of coming to the palace or going to the citadel, He dropped his baggage at the con, and hath disappeared again. At the beginning of the speech Missala listened with polite indifference. As it proceeded he became more attentive. At the conclusion he took his hand from the dice-box, And called out, Ho, Macaius! Dost thou hear? A youth at his elbow, his Myrtilus, or comrade, In the day's chariot-practice, Answered much pleased with the attention. Did I not, my Missala, I were not thy friend? Dost thou remember the man who gave thee the fall to-day? By the love-locks of Bacchus, Have I not a bruised shoulder to help me keep it in mind? And he seconded the words with a shrug that submerged his ears. Well, be thou grateful to the fates, I have found thy enemy. Listen. Thereupon Missala turned to Drusus. Tell us more of him, Perpol, Of him who is both Jew and Roman, By Phoebus, a combination to make a centaur lovely. What garment's cloth he effect, my Drusus? Those of the Jews. Here is thou, Caius, said Missala. The fellow is young. One. He hath the visage of a Roman. Two. He loveth Beth's the garb of a Jew. Three. And in the play-stray, fame and fortune come of arms to throw a horse, Or tilt a chariot, as the necessity may order. Four. And, Drusus, help thou my friend again. Doubtless does Arius hath tricks of language, Otherwise he could not so confound himself. To-day a Jew, to-morrow a Roman. But of the rich tongue of Athene, discourseeth he in that as well. With such purity, Missala, he might have been a contestant in the Isthmia. Art thou listening, Caius? said Missala. The fellow is qualified to salute a woman. For that matter Aristimace herself, in the Greek. And as I keep the count, that is five. What sayest thou? Thou hast found him, my Missala? Caius answered. Or I am not myself. Thy pardon, Drusus, and pardon of all, for speaking in riddles thus. Missala said in his winsome way, By all the decent gods I would not strain thy courtesy to the point of breaking, But now help thou me. See! he put his hand on the dice-box again, laughing. See how close I hold the pithius and their secret! Thou did speak, I think, of mystery and connection with the coming of the son of Arius. Tell me of that. Tis nothing, Missala, nothing. Drusus replied. A child's story. When Arius, the father, sailed in pursuit of the pirates, He was without wife or family. He returned with a boy, him of whom we speak, and next day adopted him. Adopted him? Missala repeated. By the gods, Drusus, thou dost indeed interest me. Where did the Duumvir find the boy? And who was he? Who shall answer thee that, Missala? Who but the young Arius himself? Perpol! In the fight the Duumvir, then but a tribune lost his galley. A returning vessel found him in one other, all of the crew who survived, afloat upon the same plank. I give you now the story of the rescuers, which hath this excellence at least, it hath never been contradicted. They say the Duumvir's companion on the plank was a Jew. A Jew! echoed Missala. And a slave. How drusus! a slave! When the two were lifted to the deck, the Duumvir was in his tribune's arbor, and the other in the vesture of a rower. Missala rose from leaning against the table. A galley! He checked the debasing word and looked around for once in his life at loss. Just then a procession of slaves filed into the room, some with great jars of wine, others with baskets of fruits and confections, others again with cups and flagons, mostly silver. There was inspiration in the sight. Instantly Missala climbed upon a stool. Man of the Tiber, he said in a clear voice, let us turn this waiting for our chief into a feast of Bacchus. Whom choose ye for master? Drusus arose. Who shall be master but the giver of the feast? He said, Answer Romans! They gave the reply in a shout. Missala took the chaplet from his head, gave it to Drusus, who climbed upon the table and, in the view of all, solemnly replaced it, making Missala master of the night. There came with me into the room, he said. Some friends just risen from table, that our feast may have the approval of sacred custom, bring hither that one of them most overcome by wine. A din of voices answered, Here he is, here he is! And from the floor where he had fallen a youth was brought forward, so effeminately beautiful he might have passed for the drinking-god himself, only the crown would have dropped from his head and the thursis from his hand. Lift him upon the table, the master said. It was found he could not sit. Help him, Drusus, as the fair Neone may yet help thee. Drusus took the inebriate in his arms. When addressing the limp figure, Missala said, amidst profound silence, O Bacchus, greatest of the gods, be thou propitious to-night. And for myself and these thy votaries I vow this chaplet, and from his head he raised it reverently, I vow this chaplet to thy altar in the grove of Daphne. He bowed, replaced the crown upon his locks, then stooped and uncovered the dice, saying with a laugh, See, my Drusus, by the ass of Salinas, the Daenerys is mine! There was a shout that set the floor to quaking, and the grimmet lent his to dancing, and the orgies began. End of chapter