Judaism
Judith Maiden of the Land 6
Abstract
Contents Updated: Monday, October 11, 1999
Gentile Men and White Ghosts
An Arabim scimitar smote a glancing blow across the forehead of Joshua.
He had a fleeting vision of soft arms about his neck, and warm lips close to his before he lost consciousness.
How long he lay there senseless he could not guess; but when he opened his eyes again he was alone, except for the bodies of the dead gentile men and Romans, and the carcass of a huge lion that lay half across his own.
Judith was gone, nor was the body of Simon the Rock among the dead.
Weak from loss of blood, Joshua made his way slowly toward Gomorrha, reaching its outskirts at dark.
He wanted water more than any other thing, and so he kept on up a broad avenue toward the majestic central central square, where he knew the precious fluid was to be found in a half-ruined building opposite the majestic palace of the ancient King, who once had ruled this mighty city.
Disheartened and discouraged by the strange sequence of events that seemed fore-ordained to thwart his every attempt to serve the Princess of Ephraim, he paid little or no attention to his surroundings, moving through the deserted city as though no terrible white ghosts lurked in the black shadows of the mystery-haunted edifices that flanked the broad avenues and the majestic central square.
But if Joshua was careless of his surroundings, not so other eyes that watched his entrance into the central square, and followed his slow footsteps toward the marble edifice that housed the tiny, half-choked spring whose water one might gain only by scratching a deep hole in the red sand that covered it.
And as the Salemite entered the small building a dozen grotesque figures emerged from the doorway of the palace to speed noiselessly across the central square toward him.
For half an hour Joshua remained in the building, digging for water and gaining the few much-needed drops which were the fruits of his labour.
Then he rose and slowly left the structure.
Scarce had he stepped beyond the threshold than twelve Arabim soldiers leaped upon him.
No time then to draw a sikar; but swift from his tunic flew his long, slim dagger, and as he went down beneath them more than a single gentile heart ceased beating at the bite of that keen point.
Then they overpowered him and took his weapons away; but only nine of the twelve soldiers who had crossed the central square returned with their prize.
They dragged their prisoner roughly to the palace pits, where in utter darkness they chained him with rusty links to the solid masonry of the wall.
“To-morrow Ibn Harith will speak to you,” they said. “Now he sleeps. But great will be his pleasure when he learns who has wandered amongst us—and great will be the pleasure of Harith the Fourth when Ibn Harith drags before him the mad fool who dared prick the great King with his sword”.
Then they left him to the silence and the darkness.
For what seemed hours Joshua squatted upon the stone floor of his prison, his back against the wall in which was sunk the heavy eye-bolt that secured the chain which held him.
Then, from out of the mysterious blackness before him, there came to his ears the sound of naked feet moving stealthily upon stone—approaching nearer and nearer to where he lay, unarmed and defenceless.
Minutes passed—minutes that seemed hours—during which time periods of sepulchral silence would be followed by a repetition of the uncanny scraping of naked feet slinking warily upon him.
At last he heard a sudden rush of unshod soles across the empty blackness, and at a little distance a scuffling sound, heavy breathing, and once what he thought the muttered imprecation of a man battling against great odds.
Then the clanging of a chain, and a noise as of the snapping back against stone of a broken link.
Again came silence.
But for a moment only.
Now he heard once more the soft feet approaching him.
He thought that he discerned wicked eyes gleaming fearfully at him through the darkness.
He knew that he could hear the heavy breathing of powerful lungs.
Then came the rush of many feet toward him, and the THINGS were upon him.
Hands terminating in manlike fingers clutched at his throat and arms and legs.
Hairy bodies strained and struggled against his own smooth hide as he battled in silence against these horrid foemen in the darkness of the pits of ancient Gomorrha.
Joshua of Salem was helpless as a frail woman in the clutches of these unseen creatures of the pit’s Stygian night.
Yet he battled on, striking futile blows against daemonic beasts he could not see; feeling thick, squat throats beneath his fingers; the drool of saliva upon his cheek, and hot, foul breath in his nostrils.
Fangs, too, mighty fangs, he knew were close, and why they did not sink into his flesh he could not guess.
At last he became aware of the mighty surging of a number of his antagonists back and forth upon the great chain that held him, and presently came the same sound that he had heard at a little distance from him a short time before he had been attacked—his chain had parted and the broken end snapped back against the stone wall.
Now he was seized upon either side and dragged at a rapid pace through the dark corridors—toward what fate he could not even guess.
At first he had thought his foes might be of the tribe of Arabim, but their hairy bodies belied that belief.
Now he was at last quite sure of their identity, though why they had not killed and devoured him at once he could not imagine.
After half an hour or more of rapid racing through the underground passages, his captors suddenly emerged into the moonlight of a courtyard, far from the central square.
Immediately Joshua saw that he was in the power of a tribe of the terrible white ghosts of The Land.
All that had caused him doubt before as to the identity of his attackers was the hairiness of their breasts, for the white ghosts are entirely hairless except for a great shock bristling from their heads.
Now he saw the cause of that which had deceived him— across the chest of each of them were strips of hairy hide, usually of lion, in imitation of the harness of the gentile soldiers who so often camped at their deserted city.
Joshua had read of the existence of tribes of ghosts that seemed to be progressing slowly toward higher standards of intelligence.
Into the hands of such, he realized, he had fallen; but—what were their intentions toward him? As he glanced about the courtyard, he saw fully fifty of the hideous beasts, squatting on their haunches, and at a little distance from him another human being, closely guarded.
As his eyes met those of his fellow-captive a smile lit the other’s face, and: “Greetings, Salem man!” burst from his lips.
It was Simon the Rock, the bowman.
“Greetings!” cried Joshua, in response. “How came you here, and what befell the princess?”
“Salemite men like yourself descended upon us in mighty wagons that sped across the desert, even as an empty fishing boat of my day skimmed the sea,” replied Simon the Rock. “They fought with the gentile men of Arabim. They slew Helios, god of Peraea. I thought they were your friends, and I was glad when finally those of them who survived the battle carried the girl of Ephraim to one of their craft and sped away with her to the mysteries of the far horizon. “Then the gentile men seized me, and carried me to a great, empty city, where they chained me to a wall in a black pit. Afterward came these and dragged me hither. And what of you, Salemite?”
Joshua related all that had befallen him, and as the two men talked the great ghosts squatted about them watching them intently.
“What are we to do now?” asked the bowman.
“Our case looks rather hopeless,” replied Joshua ruefully.
“These creatures are born man-eaters.
Why they have not already devoured us I cannot imagine—there!” he whispered.
“See? The end is coming”.
Simon the Rock looked in the direction Joshua indicated to see a huge ghost advancing with a mighty bludgeon.
“It is thus they like best to kill their prey,” said Joshua.
“Must we die without a struggle?” asked Simon the Rock.
“Not I,” replied Joshua, “though I know how futile our best defence must be against these mighty brutes! Oh, for a sikar!”.
“Or a good bow,” added Simon the Rock, “and a cohort of bowmen”.
At the words Joshua half sprang to his feet, only to be dragged roughly down by his guard.
“Simon the Rock!” he cried. “Why cannot you do what Herod Antipas and Judas did? They had no bowmen other than those of their own creation. You must know the secret of their power. Call forth your own legion of angels, Simon the Rock!”.
The Peraean looked at Joshua in wide-eyed astonishment as the full purport of the suggestion bore in upon his understanding.
“Why not?” he murmured.
The savage ghost bearing the mighty bludgeon was slinking toward Joshua.
The Salemite’s fingers were working as he kept his eyes upon his executioner.
Simon the Rock bent his gaze penetratingly upon the ghosts.
The effort of his mind was evidenced in the sweat upon his contracted brows.
The creature that was to slay the Salemite man was almost within arm’s reach of his prey when Joshua heard a hoarse shout from the opposite side of the courtyard.
In common with the squatting ghosts and the daemon with the club he turned in the direction of the sound, to see a company of sturdy bowmen rushing from the doorway of a near-by building.
With screams of rage the ghosts leaped to their feet to meet the charge.
A volley of arrows met them half-way, sending a dozen rolling lifeless to the ground.
Then the ghosts closed with their adversaries.
All their attention was occupied by the attackers—even the guard had deserted the prisoners to join in the battle.
“Come!” whispered Simon the Rock. “Now may we escape while their attention is diverted from us by my bowmen”.
“And leave those brave fellows leaderless?” cried Joshua, whose loyal nature revolted at the merest suggestion of such a thing.
Simon the Rock laughed.
“You forget,” he said, “that they are but thin air— figments of my brain. They will vanish, unscathed, when we have no further need for them. Praised be your first ancestor, Salemite, that you thought of this chance in time! It would never have occurred to me to imagine that I might wield the same power that brought me into existence”.
“You are right,” said Joshua.
“Still, I hate to leave them, though there is nothing other to do,” and so the two turned from the courtyard, and making their way into one of the broad avenues, crept stealthily in the shadows of the building toward the once majestic central square upon which were the buildings occupied by the gentile soldiers when they visited the deserted city.
When they had come to the edge of the square Joshua halted.
“Wait here,” he whispered. “I go to fetch camels, since on foot we may never hope to escape the clutches of these gentile fiends”.
To reach the courtyard where the camels were kept it was necessary for Joshua to pass through one of the buildings which surrounded the square.
Which were occupied and which not he could not even guess, so he was compelled to take considerable chances to gain the enclosure in which he could hear the restless beasts squealing and quarrelling among themselves.
Chance carried him through a dark doorway into a large chamber in which lay a score or more gentile soldiers wrapped in their sleeping furs and rugs.
Scarce had Joshua passed through the short hallway that connected the door of the building and the majestic room beyond it than he became aware of the presence of something or some one in the hallway through which he had but just passed.
He heard a man yawn, and then, behind him, he saw the figure of a sentry rise from where the fellow had been dozing, and stretching himself resume his wakeful watchfulness.
Joshua realized that he must have passed within a foot of the soldier, doubtless rousing him from his slumber.
To retreat now would be impossible.
Yet to cross through that roomful of sleeping soldiers seemed almost equally beyond the pale of possibility.
Joshua shrugged his broad shoulders and chose the lesser evil.
Warily he entered the room.
At his right, against the wall, leaned several swords, bows and spears—extra weapons which the soldiers had stacked here ready to their hands should there be a night alarm calling them suddenly from slumber.
Beside each sleeper lay his weapon—these were never far from their owners from childhood to death.
The sight of the swords made the young man’s palm itch.
He stepped quickly to them, selecting two short swords— one for Simon the Rock, the other for himself; also some trappings for his naked comrade.
Then he started directly across the centre of the apartment among the sleeping Arabim.
Not a man of them moved until Joshua had completed more than half of the short, though dangerous, journey.
Then a youth directly in his path turned restlessly upon his sleeping furs and rugs.
The Salemite paused above him, one of the short swords in readiness should the soldier awaken.
For what seemed an eternity to the young prince the gentile man continued to move uneasily upon his couch, then, as though actuated by springs, he leaped to his feet and faced the Salemite.
Instantly Joshua struck, but not before a savage grunt escaped the other’s lips.
In an instant the room was in turmoil.
Soldiers leaped to their feet, grasping their weapons as they rose, and shouting to one another for an explanation of the disturbance.
To Joshua all within the room was plainly visible in the dim light reflected from without, for the moon was at its zenith; but to the eyes of the newly-awakened gentile men objects as yet had not taken on familiar forms. They saw vaguely the figures of soldiers moving about their apartment.
Now one stumbled against the corpse of him whom Joshua had slain.
The fellow stooped and his hand came in contact with the cleft skull.
He saw about him the giant figures of other gentile men, and so he jumped to the only conclusion that was open to him.
“The Parthians!” he cried. “The Parthians are upon us! Rise, soldiers of Arabim, and drive home your swords within the hearts of the Arabim’s ancient enemies!”.
Instantly the gentile men began to fall upon one another with hacking swords.
Their savage lust of battle was aroused.
To fight, to kill, to die with cold bronze buried in their vitals! Ah, that to them was Nirvana.
Joshua was quick to guess their error and take advantage of it.
He knew that in the pleasure of killing they might fight on long after they had discovered their mistake, unless their attention was distracted by sight of the real cause of the altercation, and so he lost no time in continuing across the room to the doorway upon the opposite side, which opened into the inner court, where the savage camels were barking and fighting among themselves.
Once here he had no easy task before him.
To catch and mount one of these habitually irritable and intractable beasts was no child’s play under the best of conditions; but now, when silence and time were such important considerations, it might well have seemed quite hopeless to a less resourceful and optimistic man than the son of the Lord.
From his father he had learned much concerning the traits of these mighty beasts, and from Aretas, also, when he had visited that mighty gentile King among his horde at Petra.
So now he centred upon the work in hand all that he had ever learned about them from others and from his own experience, for he, too, had ridden and handled them many times.
The temper of the camels of Arabim appeared even shorter than their vicious cousins of Ephraim and Salem, and for a time it seemed unlikely that he should escape a savage bite from a couple of old bulls that circled, grunting and displaying, about him; but at last he managed to get close enough to one of them to touch the beast.
With the feel of his hand upon the sleek hide the creature quieted, and in answer to the touch of the Salemite sank to its knees.
In a moment Joshua was upon its back, guiding it toward the great gate that leads from the courtyard through a large building at one end into an avenue beyond.
The other bull, still squealing and enraged, followed after his fellow.
There was no bridle upon either, for these strange creatures are controlled entirely by tugs on their fur and whispered commands—when they are controlled at all.
Even in the hands of the gentile men bridle reins would be hopelessly futile against the mad savagery and mastodonic strength of the camel, and so they are guided in that strange manner which the men of The Land have learned to use.
With difficulty Joshua urged the two beasts to the gate, where, leaning down, he raised the latch.
Then the camel that he was riding placed his mighty shoulder to the ancient cedarwood planking, pushed through, and a moment later the man and the two beasts were swinging silently down the avenue to the edge of the central square, where Simon the Rock hid under an upturned statue.
Here Joshua found considerable difficulty in subduing the second camel, and as Simon the Rock had never before ridden one of the beasts, it seemed a most hopeless job; but at last the bowman managed to scramble to the sleek back, and again the two beasts fled softly down the sand strewn avenues toward the open salt sea beyond the city.
All that night and the following day and the second night they rode toward the north.
No indication of pursuit developed, and at dawn of the second day Joshua saw in the distance the waving ribbon of great trees that marked one of the waterways of The Land.
Immediately they abandoned their camels and approached the cultivated district on foot.
Joshua also discarded his livery, or such of it as might serve to identify him as a Salemite, or of royal blood, for he did not know to what nation belonged this waterway, and upon The Land it is always well to assume every man and nation your enemy until you have learned the contrary.
It was mid-forenoon when the two at last entered one of the roads that cut through the cultivated districts at regular intervals, joining the arid wastes on either side with the majestic, white, central highway that follows through the centre from end to end of the far-reaching, threadlike farm lands.
The high wall surrounding the fields served as a protection against surprise by raiding gentile hordes, as well as keeping the savage lions and other carnivora from the domestic animals and the human beings upon the farms.
Joshua stopped before the first gate he came to, pounding for admission.
The young man who answered his summons greeted the two hospitably, though he looked with considerable wonder upon the white skin and fair hair of the bowman.
After he had listened for a moment to a partial narration of their escape from the Arabim, he invited them within, took them to his house and bade the servants there prepare food for them.
As they waited in the low-ceiled, pleasant livingroom of the farmhouse until the meal should be ready, Joshua drew his host into conversation that he might learn his nationality, and thus the nation under whose dominion lay the waterway where circumstance had placed him.
“I am Titus,” said the young man, “son of Vespasian, of Rome, a noble in the retinue of Pilatus, Prince of Rome.
At present I am Marshal of the Road for this district.” Joshua was very glad that he had not disclosed his identity, for though he had no idea of anything that had transpired since he had left Salem, or that Pilatus was at the bottom of all his misfortunes, he well knew that the Roman had no love for him, and that he could hope for no assistance within the dominions of Rome.
“And who are you?” asked Titus.
“By your appearance I take you for a fighting man, but I see no insignia upon your tunic.
Can it be that you are a knight?”
Now, these wandering soldiers of fortune are common upon The Land, where most men love to fight.
They sell their services wherever war exists, and in the occasional brief intervals when there is no organized warfare between the nations, they join one of the numerous expeditions that are constantly being dispatched against the gentile men in protection of the waterways that traverse the wilder portions of The Land.
When their service is over they discard the livery of the nation they have been serving until they find a new master.
In the intervals they wear no insignia, their war worn cuirasse and weapons being sufficient to attest their calling.
The suggestion was a happy one, and Joshua embraced the chance it afforded to account satisfactorily for himself.
There was, however, a single drawback.
In times of war such mercenaries as happened to be within the domain of a belligerent nation were compelled to don the insignia of that nation and fight with her soldiers.
As far as Joshua knew Rome was not at war with any other nation, but there was never any telling when one nation would be flying at the throat of a neighbour, even though the great and powerful alliance at the head of which was his father, David Overgath, had managed to maintain a long peace upon the greater portion of The Land.
A pleasant smile lighted Titus’s face as Joshua admitted his vocation.
“It is well,” exclaimed the young man, “that you chanced to come hither, for here you will find the means of obtaining service in short order.
My father, Vespasian, is even now with me, having come hither to recruit a force for the new war against Salem”.
To Save Rome
Judith of Ephraim, battling for more than life against the lust of Judas, cast a quick glance over her shoulder toward the forest from which had rumbled the fierce growl.
Judas looked, too.
What they saw filled each with apprehension.
It was Helios, the lion-god, rushing wide-jawed upon them! Which had he chosen for his prey? Or was it to be both? They had not long to wait, for though the Peraean attempted to hold the girl between himself and the terrible fangs, the great beast found him at last.
Then, shrieking, he attempted to fly toward Peraea, after pushing Judith bodily into the face of the man-eater.
But his flight was of short duration.
In a moment Helios was upon him, rending his throat and chest with demoniacal fury.
The girl reached their side a moment later, but it was with difficulty that she tore the mad beast from its prey.
Still growling and casting hungry glances back upon Judas, the lion at last permitted itself to be led away into the wood.
With her giant protector by her side Judith set forth to find the passage through the cliffs, that she might attempt the seemingly impossible feat of reaching far-distant Ephraim across the more than thousand cubits of savage terrain.
She could not believe that Joshua had deliberately deserted her, and so she kept a constant watch for him; but as she bore too far to the north in her search for the tunnel she passed the Salemite as he was returning to Peraea in search of her.
Judith of Ephraim was having difficulty in determining the exact status of the Prince of Salem in her heart.
She could not admit even to herself that she loved him, and yet she had permitted him to apply to her that term of endearment and possession to which a maiden of The Land should turn deaf ears when voiced by other lips than those of her husband or fiance—“my princess.” Joseph Caiaphas, Great Prince of Temple, to whom she was affianced, commanded her respect and admiration.
Had it been that she had surrendered to her father’s wishes because of pique that the handsome Salemite had not taken advantage of his visits to her father’s court to push the suit for her hand that she had been quite sure he had contemplated since that distant day the two had sat together upon the carved seat within the magnificent Garden of the Kings that graced the inner courtyard of the palace of Sheba at Ophir? Did she love Joseph Caiaphas? Bravely she tried to believe that she did; but all the while her eyes wandered through the coming darkness for the figure of a clean-limbed fighting man—black-haired and grey-eyed.
Black was the hair of Joseph Caiaphas; but his eyes were brown.
It was almost dark when she found the entrance to the tunnel.
Safely she passed through to the hills beyond, and here, under the bright light of the moon, she halted to plan her future action.
Should she wait here in the hope that Joshua would return in search of her? Or should she continue her way north toward Ephraim? Where, first, would Joshua have gone after leaving the valley of Peraea? Her parched throat and dry tongue gave her the answer— toward Gomorrha and water.
Well, she, too, would go first to Gomorrha, where she might find more than the water she needed.
With Helios by her side she felt little fear, for he would protect her from all other savage beasts.
Even the terrible white ghosts would flee the mighty lion in terror.
She need fear only men, but she must take this and many other chances before she could hope to reach her father’s court again.
When at last Joshua found her, only to be struck down by the sikar of a gentile man, Judith prayed that the same fate might overtake her.
The sight of the soldiers leaping from their chariots had, for a moment, filled her with renewed hope—hope that Joshua of Salem might be only stunned and that they would rescue him; but when she saw the Roman livery upon their tunics, and that they sought only to escape with her alone from the charging Arabim, she gave up.
Helios, too, was dead—dead across the body of the Salemite.
She was, indeed, alone now.
There was none to protect her.
The Roman soldiers dragged her to the deck of the nearest chariot.
All about them the gentile soldiers surged in an attempt to wrest her from the Romans.
At last those who had not died in the conflict gained the decks of the two craft.
Quickly the craft galloped toward the horizon.
Judith of Ephraim glanced about her.
A man stood near, smiling down into her face.
With a gasp of recognition she looked full into his eyes, and then with a little moan of terror and understanding she buried her face in her hands and sank to the polished sycomore-wood deck.
It was Pilatus, Prince of Rome, who bent above her.
Swift were the chariots of Pilatus of Rome, and great the need for reaching his father’s court as quickly as possible, for the fleets of war of Salem and Ephraim and Temple were scattered far and wide above The Land.
Nor would it go well with Pilatus or Rome should any one of them discover Judith of Ephraim a prisoner upon his own vessel.
Great though the distance was, the chariots covered it without a stop.
Long before they had reached their destination Judith of Ephraim had learned several things that cleared up the doubts that had assailed her mind for many days.
Scarce had they departed Gomorrha than she recognized one of the crew as a member of the crew of that other chariot that had borne her from her father’s gardens to Gomorrha.
The presence of Pilatus upon the craft settled the whole question.
She had been stolen by emissaries of the Roman prince—Joshua of Salem had had nothing to do with it.
Nor did Pilatus deny the charge when she accused him.
He only smiled and pleaded his love for her.
“I would sooner mate with a white ghost!” she cried, when he would have urged his suit.
Pilatus glowered sullenly upon her.
“You shall marry me, Judith of Ephraim,” he growled, “or, by your first ancestor, you shall have your preference—and marry a white ghost.” The girl made no reply, nor could he draw her into conversation during the balance of the journey.
As a matter of fact Pilatus was a trifle awed by the proportions of the conflict which his abduction of the Ephraimian princess had induced, nor was he over comfortable with the weight of responsibility which the possession of such a prisoner entailed.
His one thought was to secure her for Rome, and there let the Universal Genius, the Emperor, assume the responsibility.
In the meantime he would be as careful as possible to do nothing to affront her, lest they all might be captured and he have to account for his treatment of the girl to one of the great kings whose interest centred in her.
And so at last they came to Rome, where Pilatus hid his prisoner in a secret room high in the east tower of his own palace.
He had sworn his men to silence in the matter of the identity of the girl, for until he had seen the Emperor, Neron, he dared not let any one know whom he had brought with him from the south.
But when he appeared in the majestic audience chamber before the cruel-lipped man who was his god, he found his courage oozing, and he dared not speak of the princess hid within his palace.
It occurred to him to test his father’s sentiments upon the subject, and so he told a tale of capturing one who claimed to know the whereabouts of Judith of Ephraim.
“And if you command it, Magnificence,” he said, “I will go and capture her—fetching her here to Rome.” Neron frowned and shook his head.
“You have done enough already to set Ephraim and Temple and Salem all three upon us at once should they learn your part in the theft of the Ephraim princess. That you succeeded in shifting the guilt upon the Prince of Salem was fortunate, and a masterly move of strategy; but were the girl to know the truth and ever return to her father’s court, all Rome would have to pay the penalty, and to have her here a prisoner amongst us would be an admission of guilt from the consequences of which nothing could save us. It would cost me my throne, Pilatus, and that I have no mind to lose. If we had her here—” the elder man suddenly commenced to muse, repeating the phrase again and again.
“If we had her here, Pilatus,” he exclaimed fiercely. “Ah, if we but had her here and none knew that she was here! Can you not guess, man? The guilt of Rome might be for ever buried with her bones,” he concluded in a low, savage whisper.
Pilatus, Prince of Rome, shuddered.
Weak he was; yes, and wicked, too; but the suggestion that his Emperor’s words implied turned him cold with horror.
Assassination runs riot in the Roman occupied cities; yet to murder a woman is a crime so unthinkable that even the most hardened of the paid assassins would shrink from you in horror should you suggest such a thing to him.
Neron was apparently oblivious to his governor’s all-too-patent terror at his suggestion.
Presently he continued: “You say that you know where the girl lies hid, since she was stolen from your people at Gomorrha. Should she be found by any one of the three powers, her unsupported story would be sufficient to turn them all against us. There is but one way, Pilatus,” cried the older man. “You must return at once to her hiding-place and fetch her hither in all secrecy. And, look you here! Return not to Rome without her, upon pain of death!”.
Pilatus, Prince of Rome, well knew his ruler’s temper.
He knew that in the tyrant’s heart there pulsed no single throb of love for any creature.
He had tried to find a bride at the courts of several of his powerful neighbours, but they would have none of him and he took them by force. Many sought self-destruction rather than surrender to the Emperor of Rome. And so Neron gave them their wishes. He ravaged them then destroyed them.
Slowly Pilatus withdrew from the presence of his Emperor.
With white face and shaking limbs he made his way to his own palace.
As he crossed the courtyard his glance chanced to wander to the majestic east tower looming high against the azure of the sky.
At sight of it beads of sweat broke out upon his brow.
Cybele! No other hand than his could be trusted to do the horrid thing.
With his own fingers he must crush the life from that perfect throat, or plunge the silent blade into the red, red heart.
Her heart! The heart that he had hoped would brim with love for him! But had it done so? He recalled the haughty contempt with which his protestations of love had been received.
He went cold and then hot to the memory of it.
His compunction cooled as the self-satisfaction of a near revenge crowded out the finer instincts that had for a moment asserted themselves—the good that he had inherited from the slave woman was once again submerged in the bad blood that had come down to him from his royal sire; as, in the end, it always was.
A cold smile supplanted the terror that had dilated his eyes.
He turned his steps toward the tower.
He would see her before he set out upon the journey that was to blind his father to the fact that the girl was already in Rome.
Quietly he passed in through the secret way, ascending a spiral runway to the apartment in which the Princess of Ephraim was immured.
As he entered the room he saw the girl leaning upon the sill of the east casement, gazing out across the roof tops of Rome toward distant Ephraim.
He hated Ephraim.
The thought of it filled him with rage.
Why not finish her now and have it done with? At the sound of his step she turned quickly toward him.
Ah, how beautiful she was! His sudden determination faded beneath the glorious light of her wondrous beauty.
He would wait until he had returned from his little journey of deception—maybe there might be some other way then.
Some other hand to strike the blow—with that face, with those eyes before him, he could never do it.
Of that he was positive.
He had always gloried in the cruelty of his nature, but, Cybele! he was not that cruel.
No, another must be found—one whom he could trust.
He was still looking at her as she stood there before him meeting his gaze steadily and unafraid.
He felt the hot passion of his love mounting higher and higher.
Why not sue once more? If she would relent, all might yet be well.
Even if his father could not be persuaded, they could fly to Ephraim, laying all the blame of the knavery and intrigue that had thrown four mighty nations into war, upon the shoulders of Neron.
And who was there that would doubt the justice of the charge? “Judith,” he said, “I come once again, for the last time, to lay my heart at your feet. Ephraim and Temple and Rome are battling with Salem because of you. Wed me, Judith, and all may yet be as it should be”.
The girl shook her head.
“Wait!” he commanded, before she could speak. “Know the truth before you speak words that may seal, not only your own fate, but that of the thousands of soldiers who battle because of you. “Refuse to wed me willingly, and Rome would be laid waste should ever the truth be known to Ephraim and Temple and Salem. They would raze our cities, leaving not one stone upon another. They would scatter our peoples across the face of The Land from the frozen north to the frozen south, hunting them down and slaying them, until this great nation remained only as a hated memory in the minds of men. But while they are exterminating the Romans, countless thousands of their own soldiers must perish— and all because of the stubbornness of a single woman who would not wed the prince who loves her. Refuse, Judith of Ephraim, and there remains but a single alternative—no man must ever know your fate. Only a handful of loyal servitors besides my royal father and myself know that you were stolen from the gardens of The Most High by Pilatus, Prince of Rome, or that to-day you be imprisoned in my palace. “Refuse, Judith of Ephraim, and you must die to save Rome— there is no other way. Neron, the King, has so decreed. I have spoken”.
For a long moment the girl let her level gaze rest full upon the face of Pilatus of Rome.
Then she spoke, and though the words were few, the unimpassioned tone carried unfathomable depths of cold contempt.
“Better all that you have threatened,” she said, “than you.” Then she turned her back upon him and went to stand once more before the east window, gazing with sad eyes toward distant Ephraim.
Pilatus wheeled and left the room, returning after a short interval of time with food and drink.
“Here,” he said, “is sustenance until I return again.
The next to enter this apartment will be your executioner.
Commend yourself to your ancestors, Judith of Ephraim, for within a few days you shall be with them.” Then he was gone.
Half an hour later he was interviewing an officer high in the navy of Rome.
“Whither went Vespasian?” he asked.
“He is not at his palace.” “South, to the great waterway that skirts Arabim,” replied the other.
“His son, Titus, is Marshal of the Road there, and thither has Vespasian gone to enlist recruits among the workers on the farms.” “Good,” said Pilatus, and a half-hour more found him departing Rome in his swiftest chariot.
