Abstract

Contents Updated: Monday, October 11, 1999

The Phantom Bowmen

As Judas leaped toward him Joshua laid his hand upon the hilt of his sikar.

The Peraean halted.

The majestic apartment was empty save for the four at the dais, yet as Judas stepped back from the menace of the Salemite’s threatening attitude the latter found himself surrounded by a score of bowmen.

From whence had they sprung? Both Joshua and Judith looked their astonishment.

Now the former’s sword leaped from its scabbard, and at the same instant the bowmen drew back their slim shafts.

Herod Antipas had half raised himself upon one elbow.

For the first time he saw the full figure of Judith, who had been concealed behind the person of Joshua.

“Enough!” cried the King, raising a protesting hand, but at that very instant the sword of the Salemite cut viciously at its nearest antagonist.

As the keen edge reached its goal Joshua let the point fall to the floor, as with wide eyes he stepped backward in consternation, throwing the back of his left hand across his brow.

His bronze had cut but empty air—his antagonist had vanished—there were no bowmen in the room! “It is evident that these are strangers,” said Herod Antipas to Judas.

“Let us first determine that they knowingly affronted us before we take measures for punishment.” Then he turned to Joshua, but ever his gaze wandered to the perfect lines of Judith’s glorious figure, which the gown of the princess of The Land accentuated rather than concealed.

“Who are you,” he asked, “who knows not the etiquette of the court of the last of kings?” “I am Joshua, Prince of Salem,” replied the Salemite.

“And this is Judith, Princess of Ephraim.

In the courts of our fathers men do not prostrate themselves before royalty.

Not since the Brigands tore their immortal goddess limb from limb have men crawled upon their bellies to any throne upon The Land.

Now think you that the daughter of one mighty King and the son of another would so humiliate themselves?” Herod Antipas looked at Joshua for a long time.

At last he spoke.

“There is no other King upon The Land than Herod Antipas,” he said.

“There is no other race than that of Peraea, unless the hordes of Arabim may be dignified by such an appellation.

Peraeans are white; your skins are brown.

There are no women left upon The Land.

Your companion is a woman.” He half rose from the couch, leaning far forward and pointing an accusing finger at Joshua.

“You are a lie!” he shrieked.

“You are both lies, and you dare to come before Herod Antipas, last and mightiest of the kings of The Land, and assert your reality.

Some one shall pay well for this, Judas, and unless I mistake it is yourself who has dared thus flippantly to trifle with the good nature of your King.

“Remove the man.

Leave the woman.

We shall see if both be lies.

And later, Judas, you shall suffer for your temerity.

There be few of us left, but—Helios must be fed.

Go!” Joshua could see that Judas trembled as he prostrated himself once more before his ruler, and then, rising, turned toward the Prince of Salem.

“Come!” he said.

“And leave the Princess of Ephraim here alone?” cried Joshua.

Judas brushed closely past him, whispering: “Follow me—he cannot harm her, except to kill; and that he can do whether you remain or not.

We had best go now—trust me.” Joshua did not understand, but something in the urgency of the other’s tone assured him, and so he turned away, but not without a glance toward Judith in which he attempted to make her understand that it was in her own interest that he left her.

For answer she turned her back full upon him, but not without first throwing him such a look of contempt that brought the scarlet to his cheek.

Then he hesitated, but Judas seized him by the wrist.

“Come!” he whispered.

“Or he will have the bowmen upon you, and this time there will be no escape.

Did you not see how futile is your bronze against thin air!” Joshua turned unwillingly to follow.

As the two left the room he turned to his companion.

“If I may not kill thin air,” he asked, “how, then, shall I fear that thin air may kill me?”

“You saw the Arabim fall before the bowmen?” asked Judas.

Joshua nodded.

“So would you fall before them, and without one single chance for self-defence or revenge.” As they talked Judas led Joshua to a small room in one of the numerous towers of the palace.

Here were couches, and Judas bid the Salemite be seated.

For several minutes the Peraean eyed his prisoner, for such Joshua now realized himself to be.

“I am half convinced that you are real,” he said at last.

Joshua laughed.

“Of course I am real,” he said.

“What caused you to doubt it? Can you not see me, feel me?”

“So may I see and feel the bowmen,” replied Judas, “and yet we all know that they, at least, are not real.” Joshua showed by the expression of his face his puzzlement at each new reference to the mysterious bowmen—the vanishing soldiery of Peraea.

“What, then, may they be?” he asked.

“You really do not know?” asked Judas.

Joshua shook his head negatively.

“I can almost believe that you have told us the truth and that you are really from another part of The Land, or from another world.

But tell me, in your own country have you no bowmen to strike terror to the hearts of the gentile hordesmen as they slay in company with the fierce lions of war?” “We have soldiers,” replied Joshua.

“We of the Hebrew race are all soldiers, but we have no bowmen to defend us, such as yours. We defend ourselves”.

“You go out and get killed by your enemies!” cried Judas incredulously.

“Certainly,” replied Joshua.

“How do the Peraeans?”

“You have seen,” replied the other.

“We send out our deathless archers—deathless because they are lifeless, existing only in the imaginations of our enemies. It is really our giant minds that defend us, sending out legions of imaginary soldiers to materialize before the mind’s eye of the foe. “They see them—they see their bows drawn back—they see their slender arrows speed with unerring precision toward their hearts. And they die—killed by the power of suggestion”.

“But the archers that are slain?” exclaimed Joshua.

“You call them deathless, and yet I saw their dead bodies piled high upon the battlefield. How may that be?”

“It is but to lend reality to the scene,” replied Judas.

“We picture many of our own defenders killed that the Arabim may not guess that there are really no flesh and blood creatures opposing them. Once that truth became implanted in their minds, it is the theory of many of us, no longer would they fall prey to the suggestion of the deadly arrows, for greater would be the suggestion of the truth, and the more powerful suggestion would prevail—it is law”.

“And the lions?” questioned Joshua. “They, too, were but creatures of suggestion?”

“Some of them were real,” replied Judas. “Those that accompanied the archers in pursuit of the Arabim were unreal. Like the archers, they never returned, but, having served their purpose, vanished with the bowmen when the rout of the enemy was assured. Those that remained about the field were real. Those we loosed as scavengers to devour the bodies of the dead of Arabim. This thing is demanded by the realists among us. I am a realist. Herod Antipas is an etherealist. The etherealists maintain that there is no such thing as matter—that all is mind. They say that none of us exists, except in the imagination of his fellows, other than as an intangible, invisible mentality. According to Herod Antipas, it is but necessary that we all unite in imagining that there are no dead Arabim beneath our walls, and there will be none, nor any need of scavenging lions”.

“You, then, do not hold Herod Antipas’s beliefs?” asked Joshua.

“In part only,” replied the Peraean. “I believe, in fact I know, that there are some truly ethereal creatures. Herod Antipas is one, I am convinced. He has no existence except in the imaginations of his people. Of course, it is the contention of all us realists that all etherealists are but figments of the imagination. They contend that no food is necessary, nor do they eat; but any one of the most rudimentary intelligence must realize that food is a necessity to creatures having actual existence”.

“Yes,” agreed Joshua, “not having eaten to-day I can readily agree with you”.

“Ah, pardon me,” exclaimed Judas. “Pray be seated and satisfy your hunger,” and with a wave of his hand he indicated a bountifully laden table that had not been there an instant before he spoke.

Of that Joshua was positive, for he had searched the room diligently with his eyes several times.

“It is well,” continued Judas, “that you did not fall into the hands of an etherealist. Then, indeed, would you have gone hungry”.

“But,” exclaimed Joshua, “this is not real food—it was not here an instant since, and real food does not materialize out of thin air”.

Judas looked hurt. “There is no real food or water in Peraea,” he said; “nor has there been for countless ages. Upon such as you now see before you have we existed since the dawn of history. Upon such, then, may you exist”.

“But I thought you were a realist,” exclaimed Joshua.

“Indeed,” cried Judas, “what more realistic than this bounteous feast? It is just here that we differ most from the etherealists. They claim that it is unnecessary to imagine food; but we have found that for the maintenance of life we must thrice daily sit down to hearty meals. “The food that one eats is supposed to undergo certain chemical changes during the process of digestion and assimilation, the result, of course, being the rebuilding of wasted tissue. Now we all know that mind is all, though we may differ in the interpretation of its various manifestations. Herod Antipas maintains that there is no such thing as substance, all being created from the substanceless matter of the brain. We realists, however, know better. We know that mind has the power to maintain substance even though it may not be able to create substance—the latter is still an open question. And so we know that in order to maintain our physical bodies we must cause all our organs properly to function. This we accomplish by materializing food-thoughts, and by partaking of the food thus created. We chew, we swallow, we digest. All our organs function precisely as if we had partaken of material food. And what is the result? What must be the result? The chemical changes take place through both direct and indirect suggestion, and we live and thrive”.

Joshua eyed the food before him.

It seemed real enough.

He lifted a morsel to his lips.

There was substance indeed.

And flavour as well.

Yes, even his palate was deceived.

Judas watched him, smiling, as he ate.

“Is it not entirely satisfying?” he asked.

“I must admit that it is,” replied Joshua. “But tell me, how does Herod Antipas live, and the other etherealists who maintain that food is unnecessary?”

Judas scratched his head.

“That is a question we often discuss,” he replied. “It is the strongest evidence we have of the non-existence of the etherealists; but who may know other than Helios?”

“Who is Helios?” asked Joshua. “I heard your King speak of him”.

Judas bent low toward the ear of the Salemite, looking fearfully about before he spoke.

“Helios is the essence,” he whispered. “Even the etherealists admit that mind itself must have substance in order to transmit to imaginings the appearance of substance. For if there really was no such thing as substance it could not be suggested—what never has been cannot be imagined. Do you follow me?”

“I am groping,” replied Joshua dryly.

“So the essence must be substance,” continued Judas. “Helios is the essence of the All, as it were. He is maintained by substance. He eats. He eats the real. To be explicit, he eats the realists. That is Herod Antipas’s work. He says that inasmuch as we maintain that we alone are real we should, to be consistent, admit that we alone are proper food for Helios. Sometimes, as to-day, we find other food for him. He is very fond of Arabim”.

“And Helios is a man?” asked Joshua.

“He is All, I told you,” replied Judas. “I know not how to explain him in words that you will understand. He is the beginning and the end. All life emanates from Helios, since the substance which feeds the brain with imaginings radiates from the body of Helios. Should Helios cease to eat, all life upon The Land would cease to be. He cannot die, but he might cease to eat, and, thus, to radiate”.

“And he feeds upon the men and women of your belief?” cried Joshua.

“Women!” exclaimed Judas. “There are no women in Peraea. The last of the Peraean females perished ages since, upon that cruel and terrible journey across the muddy plains that fringed the half-dried seas, when the gentile hordes scourged us across the world to this our last hiding-place—our impregnable fortress of Peraea. Scarce twenty thousand men of all the countless millions of our race lived to reach Peraea. Among us were no women and no children. All these had perished by the way. As time went on, we, too, were dying and the race fast approaching extinction, when the Great Truth was revealed to us, that mind is all. Many more died before we perfected our powers, but at last we were able to defy death when we fully understood that death was merely a state of mind. Then came the creation of mind-people, or rather the materialization of imaginings. We first put these to practical use when the Arabim discovered our retreat, and fortunate for us it was that it required ages of search upon their part before they found the single tiny entrance to the valley of Peraea. That day we threw our first bowmen against them. The intention was purely to frighten them away by the vast numbers of bowmen which we could muster upon our walls. All Peraea bristled with the bows and arrows of our ethereal host. But the Arabimians did not frighten. They are lower than the beasts—they know no fear. They rushed upon our walls, and standing upon the shoulders of others they built human approaches to the wall tops, and were on the very point of surging in upon us and overwhelming us. Not an arrow had been discharged by our bowmen—we did but cause them to run to and fro along the wall top, screaming taunts and threats at the enemy. Presently I thought to attempt the thing—THE GREAT THING. I centred all my mighty intellect upon the bowmen of my own creation—each of us produces and directs as many bowmen as his mentality and imagination is capable of. I caused them to fit arrows to their bows for the first time. I made them take aim at the hearts of the gentile men. I made the gentile men see all this, and then I made them see the arrows fly, and I made them think that the points pierced their hearts. It was all that was necessary. By hundreds they toppled from our walls, and when my fellows saw what I had done they were quick to follow my example, so that presently the hordes of Arabim had retreated beyond the range of our arrows. We might have killed them at any distance, but one rule of war we have maintained from the first—the rule of realism. We do nothing, or rather we cause our bowmen to do nothing within sight of the enemy that is beyond the understanding of the foe. Otherwise they might guess the truth, and that would be the end of us. But after the Arabim had retreated beyond bowshot, they turned upon us with their terrible projectiles, and by constant shooting at us made life miserable within our walls. So then I bethought the scheme to hurl our bowmen through the gates upon them. You have seen this day how well it works. For ages they have come down upon us at intervals, but always with the same results”.

“And all this is due to your intellect, Judas?” asked Joshua. “I should think that you would be high in the councils of your people”.

“I am,” replied Judas, proudly. “I am next to Herod Antipas”.

“But why, then, your cringing manner of approaching the throne?”

“Herod Antipas demands it. He is jealous of me. He only awaits the slightest excuse to feed me to Helios. He fears that I may some day usurp his power”.

Joshua suddenly sprang from the table. “Judas!” he exclaimed. “I am a beast! Here I have been eating my fill, while the Princess of Ephraim may perchance be still without food. Let us return and find some means of furnishing her with nourishment”.

The Peraean shook his head. “Herod Antipas would not permit it,” he said. “He will, doubtless, make an etherealist of her”.

“But I must go to her,” insisted Joshua. “You say that there are no women in Peraea. Then she must be among men, and if this be so I intend to be near where I may defend her if the need arises”.

“Herod Antipas will have his way,” insisted Judas. “He sent you away and you may not return until he sends for you”.

“Then I shall go without waiting to be sent for”.

“Do not forget the bowmen,” cautioned Judas.

“I do not forget them,” replied Joshua, but he did not tell Judas that he remembered something else that the Peraean had let drop—something that was but a conjecture, possibly, and yet one well worth pinning a forlorn hope to, should necessity arise.

Joshua started to leave the room.

Judas stepped before him, barring his way.

“I have learned to like you, Salemite man,” he said; “but do not forget that Herod Antipas is still my King, and that Herod Antipas has commanded that you remain here”.

Joshua was about to reply, when there came faintly to the ears of both a woman’s cry for help.

With a sweep of his arm the Prince of Salem brushed the Peraean aside, and with drawn sword sprang into the corridor without.

The Hall of Doom

As Judith of Ephraim saw Joshua depart from the presence of Herod Antipas, leaving her alone with the man, a sudden qualm of terror seized her.

There was an air of mystery pervading the stately chamber.

Its furnishings and appointments bespoke wealth and culture, and carried the suggestion that the room was often the scene of royal functions which filled it to its capacity.

And yet nowhere about her, in antechamber or corridor, was there sign of any other being than herself and the recumbent figure of Herod Antipas, the King, who watched her through half-closed eyes from the magnificent trappings of his regal couch.

For a time after the departure of Judas and Joshua the man eyed her intently.

Then he spoke.

“Come nearer,” he said, and, as she approached: “Whose creature are you? Who has dared materialize his imaginings of woman? It is contrary to the customs and the royal edicts of Peraea. Tell me, woman, from whose brain have you sprung? Judas’s? No, do not deny it. I know that it could be no other than that envious realist. He seeks to tempt me. He would see me fall beneath the spell of your charms, and then he, your master, would direct my destiny and—my end. I see it all! I see it all!”.

The blood of indignation and anger had been rising to Judith’s face.

Her chin was up, a haughty curve upon her perfect lips.

“I know nothing,” she cried, “of what you are prating! I am Judith, Princess of Ephraim.

I am no man’s `creature.” Never before to-day did I lay eyes upon him you call Judas, nor upon your ridiculous city, of which even the greatest nations of The Land have never dreamed.

“My charms are not for you, nor such as you.

They are not for sale or barter, even though the price were a real throne.

And as for using them to win your worse than futile power—” She ended her sentence with a shrug of her shapely shoulders, and a little scornful laugh.

When she had finished Herod Antipas was sitting upon the edge of his couch, his feet upon the floor.

He was leaning forward with eyes no longer half closed, but wide with a startled expression in them.

He did not seem to note the LESE MAJESTE of her words and manner.

There was evidently something more startling and compelling about her speech than that.

Slowly he came to his feet.

“By the fangs of Helios!” he muttered. “But you are REAL! A REAL woman! No dream! No vain and foolish figment of the mind!”.

He took a step toward her, with hands outstretched.

“Come!” he whispered. “Come, woman! For countless ages have I dreamed that some day you would come. And now that you are here I can scarce believe the testimony of my eyes. Even now, knowing that you are real, I still half dread that you may be a lie”.

Judith shrank back.

She thought the man mad.

Her hand stole to the jewelled hilt of her dagger.

The man saw the move, and stopped.

A cunning expression entered his eyes.

Then they became at once dreamy and penetrating as they fairly bored into the girl’s brain.

Judith suddenly felt a change coming over her.

What the cause of it she did not guess; but somehow the man before her began to assume a new relationship within her heart.

No longer was he a strange and mysterious enemy, but an old and trusted friend.

Her hand slipped from the dagger’s hilt.

Herod Antipas came closer.

He spoke gentle, friendly words, and she answered him in a voice that seemed hers and yet another’s.

He was beside her now.

His hand was up her shoulder.

His eyes were down-bent toward hers.

She looked up into his face.

His gaze seemed to bore straight through her to some hidden spring of sentiment within her.

Her lips parted in sudden awe and wonder at the strange revealment of her inner self that was being laid bare before her consciousness.

She had known Herod Antipas for ever.

He was more than friend to her.

She moved a little closer to him.

In one swift flood of light she knew the truth.

She loved Herod Antipas, King of Peraea! She had always loved him.

The man, seeing the success of his strategy, could not restrain a faint smile of satisfaction.

Whether there was something in the expression of his face, or whether from Joshua of Salem in a far chamber of the palace came a more powerful suggestion, who may say? But something there was that suddenly dispelled the strange, hypnotic influence of the man.

As though a mask had been torn from her eyes, Judith suddenly saw Herod Antipas as she had formerly seen him, and, accustomed as she was to the strange manifestations of highly developed mentality which are common upon The Land, she quickly guessed enough of the truth to know that she was in grave danger.

Quickly she took a step backward, tearing herself from his grasp.

But the momentary contact had aroused within Herod Antipas all the long-buried passions of his loveless existence.

With a muffled cry he sprang upon her, throwing his arms about her and attempting to drag her lips to his.

“Woman!” he cried. “Lovely woman! Herod Antipas would make you queen of Peraea. Listen to me! Listen to the love of the last kings of The Land”.

Judith struggled to free herself from his embrace.

“Stop, creature!” she cried. “Stop! I do not love you. Stop, or I shall scream for help!”.

Herod Antipas laughed in her face. “‘Scream for help’,” he mimicked. “And who within the halls of Peraea is there who might come in answer to your call? Who would dare enter the presence of Herod Antipas, unsummoned?”

“There is one,” she replied, “who would come, and, coming, dare to cut you down upon your own throne, if he thought that you had offered affront to Judith of Ephraim!”.

“Who, Judas?” asked Herod Antipas.

“Not Judas, nor any other soft-skinned Peraean,” she replied; “but a real man, a real soldier—Joshua of Salem!”.

Again the man laughed at her.

“You forget the bowmen,” he reminded her. “What could your Salemite soldier accomplish against my fearless legions?” Again he caught her roughly to him, dragging her towards his couch.

“If you will not be my queen,” he said, “you shall be my slave”.

“Neither!” cried the girl.

As she spoke the single word there was a quick move of her right hand; Herod Antipas, releasing her, staggered back, both hands pressed to his side.

At the same instant the room filled with bowmen, and then the King of Peraea sank senseless to the marble floor.

At the instant that he lost consciousness the bowmen were about to release their arrows into Judith’s heart.

Involuntarily she gave a single cry for help, though she knew that not even Joshua of Salem could save her now.

Then she closed her eyes and waited for the end.

No slender shafts pierced her tender side.

She raised her lids to see what stayed the hand of her executioners.

The room was empty save for herself and the still form of the King of Peraea lying at her feet, a little pool of crimson staining the white marble of the floor beside him.

Herod Antipas was unconscious.

Judith was amazed.

Where were the bowmen? Why had they not loosed their shafts? What could it all mean? An instant before the room had been mysteriously filled with armed men, evidently called to protect their King; yet now, with the evidence of her deed plain before them, they had vanished as mysteriously as they had come, leaving her alone with the body of their ruler, into whose side she had slipped her long, keen blade.

The girl glanced apprehensively about, first for signs of the return of the bowmen, and then for some means of escape.

The wall behind the dais was pierced by two small doorways, hidden by heavy hangings.

Judith was running quickly towards one of these when she heard the clank of a soldier’s metal at the end of the apartment behind her.

Ah, if she had but an instant more of time she could have reached that screening arras and, perchance, have found some avenue of escape behind it; but now it was too late—she had been discovered! With a feeling that was akin to apathy she turned to meet her fate, and there, before her, running swiftly across the broad chamber to her side, was Joshua, his sikar gleaming in his hand.

For days she had doubted his intentions of the Salemite.

She had thought him a party to her abduction.

Since Fate had thrown them together she had scarce favoured him with more than the most perfunctory replies to his remarks, unless at such times as the weird and uncanny happenings at Peraea had surprised her out of her reserve.

She knew that Joshua of Salem would fight for her; but whether to save her for himself or another, she was in doubt.

He knew that she was betrothed to Joseph Caiaphas, Great Prince of Temple, but if he had been instrumental in her abduction, his motives could not be prompted by loyalty to his friend, or regard for her honour.

And yet, as she saw him coming across the marble floor of the audience chamber of Herod Antipas of Peraea, his fine eyes filled with apprehension for her safety, his splendid figure personifying all that is finest in the fighting men of The Land, she could not believe that any faintest trace of perfidy lurked beneath so glorious an exterior.

Never, she thought, in all her life had the sight of any man been so welcome to her.

It was with difficulty that she refrained from rushing forward to meet him.

She knew that he loved her; but she was betrothed to Joseph Caiaphas.

Not even might she trust herself to show too great gratitude to the Salemite, lest he misunderstand.

Joshua was by her side now.

His quick glance had taken in the scene within the room—the still figure of the King sprawled upon the floor—the girl hastening toward a shrouded exit.

“Did he harm you, Judith?” he asked.

She held up her crimsoned blade that he might see it.

“No,” she said, “he did not harm me.” A gentile smile lighted Joshua’s face.

“Praised be our first ancestor!” he murmured.

“And now let us see if we may not make good our escape from this accursed city before the Peraeans discover that their King is no more.” With the firm authority that sat so well upon him in whose veins flowed the blood of David Overgath and Sarah of Abraham of Salem, he grasped her hand and, turning back across the hall, strode toward the majestic doorway through which Judas had brought them into the presence of the King earlier in the day.

They had almost reached the threshold when a figure sprang into the apartment through another entrance.

It was Judas.

He, too, took in the scene within at a glance.

Joshua turned to face him, his sword ready in his hand, and his mighty body shielding the slender figure of the girl.

“Come, Judas of Peraea!” he cried.

“Let us face the issue at once, for only one of us may leave this chamber alive with Judith of Ephraim.” Then, seeing that the man wore no sword, he exclaimed: “Bring on your bowmen, then, or come with us as my prisoner until we have safely passed the outer portals of thy ghostly city”.

“You have killed Herod Antipas!” exclaimed Judas, ignoring the other’s challenge. “You have killed Herod Antipas! I see his blood upon the floor—real blood—real death. Herod Antipas was, after all, as real as I. Yet he was an etherealist. He would not materialize his sustenance. Can it be that they are right? Well, we, too, are right. And all these ages we have been quarrelling—each saying that the other was wrong! However, he is dead now. Of that I am glad. Now shall Judas come into his own. Now shall Judas be King of Peraea!”.

As he finished, Herod Antipas opened his eyes and then quickly sat up.

“Traitor! Assassin!” he screamed, and then: “Guard! Guard!”.

Judas went sickly white.

He fell upon his belly, wriggling toward Herod Antipas.

“Oh, my King, my King!” he whimpered. “Judas had no hand in this. Judas, your faithful Judas, but just this instant entered the apartment to find you lying prone upon the floor and these two strangers about to leave. How it happened I know not. Believe me, most glorious King!”.

“Cease, knave!” cried Herod Antipas. “I heard your words: `However, he is dead now. Of that I am glad. Now shall Judas come into his own. Now shall Judas be King of Peraea.” “At last, traitor, I have found you out. Your own words have condemned you as surely as the acts of these creatures of Ephraim have sealed their fates—unless—” He paused. “Unless the woman…“

But he got no further.

Joshua guessed what he would have said, and before the words could be uttered he had sprung forward and struck the man across the mouth with his open palm.

Herod Antipas frothed in rage and mortification.

“And should you again affront the Princess of Ephraim,” warned the Salemite, “I shall forget that you wear no sword—not for ever may I control my itching sword hand.” Herod Antipas shrank back toward the little doorways behind the dais.

He was trying to speak, but so hideously were the muscles of his face working that he could utter no word for several minutes.

At last he managed to articulate intelligibly.

“Die!” he shrieked. “Die!” and then he turned toward the exit at his back.

Judas leaped forward, screaming in terror. “Have pity, Herod Antipas! Have pity! Remember the long ages that I have served you faithfully. Remember all that I have done for Peraea. Do not condemn me now to the death hideous. Save me! Save me!”.

But Herod Antipas only laughed a mocking laugh and continued to back toward the hangings that hid the little doorway.

Judas turned toward Joshua.

“Stop him!” he screamed. “Stop him! If you love life, let him not leave this room,” and as he spoke he leaped in pursuit of his King.

Joshua followed Judas’s example, but the “last of the kings of The Land” was too quick for them.

By the time they reached the arras behind which he had disappeared, they found a heavy stone door blocking their further progress.

Judas sank to the floor in a spasm of terror.

“Come, man!” cried Joshua. “We are not dead yet. Let us hasten to the avenues and make an attempt to leave the city. We are still alive, and while we live we may yet endeavour to direct our own destinies. Of what avail, to sink spineless to the floor? Come, be a man!”.

Judas shook his head.

“Did you not hear him call the guards?” he moaned. “Ah, if we could have but intercepted him! Then there might have been hope; but, alas, he was too quick for us”.

“Well, well,” exclaimed Joshua impatiently. “What if he did call the guards? There will be time enough to worry about that after they come—at present I see no indication that they have any idea of over-exerting themselves to obey their king’s summons”.

Judas shook his head mournfully.

“You do not understand,” he said. “The guards have already come—and gone. They have done their work and we are lost. Look to the various exits”.

Joshua and Judith turned their eyes in the direction of the several doorways which pierced the walls of the majestic chamber.

Each was tightly closed by huge stone doors.

“Well?” asked Joshua.

“We are to die the death,” whispered Judas faintly.

Further than that he would not say.

He just sat upon the edge of the king’s couch and waited.

Joshua moved to Judith’s side, and, standing there with his sword unsheathed, he let his eyes roam ceaselessly about the majestic chamber, that no foe might spring upon them unseen.

For what seemed hours no sound broke the silence of their living tomb.

No sign gave their executioners of the time or manner of their death.

The suspense was terrible.

Even Joshua of Salem began to feel the terrible strain upon his nerves.

If he could but know how and whence the hand of death was to strike, he could meet it unafraid, but to suffer longer the hideous tension of this blighting ignorance of the plans of their assassins was telling upon him grievously.

Judith of Ephraim drew quite close to him.

She felt safer with the feel of his arm against hers, and with the contact of her the man took a new grip upon himself.

With his old-time smile he turned toward her.

“It would seem that they are trying to frighten us to death,” he said, laughing; “and, shame be upon me that I should confess it, I think they were close to accomplishing their designs upon me”.

She was about to make some reply when a fearful shriek broke from the lips of the Peraean.

“The end is coming!” he cried. “The end is coming! The floor! The floor! Oh, Helios, be merciful!” Judith and Joshua did not need to look at the floor to be aware of the strange movement that was taking place.

Slowly the marble flagging was sinking in all directions toward the centre.

At first the movement, being gradual, was scarce noticeable; but presently the angle of the floor became such that one might stand easily only by bending one knee considerably.

Judas was shrieking still, and clawing at the royal couch that had already commenced to slide toward the centre of the room, where both Judith and Joshua suddenly noted a small orifice which grew in diameter as the floor assumed more closely a funnel-like contour.

Now it became more and more difficult to cling to the dizzy inclination of the smooth and polished marble.

Joshua tried to support Judith, but himself commenced to slide and slip toward the ever-enlarging aperture.

Better to cling to the smooth stone he kicked off his sandals and with his bare feet braced himself against the sickening tilt, at the same time throwing his arms supportingly about the girl.

In her terror her own hands clasped about the man’s neck.

Her cheek was close to his.

Death, unseen and of unknown form, seemed close upon them, and because unseen and unknowable infinitely more terrifying.

“Courage, my princess,” he whispered.

She looked up into his face to see smiling lips above hers and eyes, reflecting no inner fear, drinking deeply of her own.

Then the floor sagged and tilted more swiftly.

There was a sudden slipping rush as they were precipitated toward the aperture.

Judas’s screams rose weird and horrible in their ears, and then the three found themselves piled upon the royal couch of Herod Antipas, which had stuck within the aperture at the base of the marble funnel.

For a moment they breathed more freely, but presently they discovered that the aperture was continuing to enlarge.

The couch slipped downward.

Judas shrieked again.

There was a sickening sensation as they felt all let go beneath them, as they fell through darkness to an unknown death.