The Coming of the King. Bernie Babcock

and laying it open. "A fair maiden indeed. Not thine, but mine shall she be," and he motioned his fellow soldier to stand back.

      "The God of our fathers strike thee dead!" Jael shouted in wrath.

      "The God of thy fathers! Ha! Ha! The God of thy fathers hath no more power than yonder driveling granny. By Rome hath the God of thy fathers been smitten. To Rome belongs the maiden."

      "Of all the spoil," the soldier who had discovered the beauty of Sara said to his companion, "of all the spoil that hath been taken between us, you have the larger portion. I first saw the maiden. She shall be mine!"

      "Nay, mine—first mine. Then shall she be yours."

      "Lord God Almighty!" Jael cried. "Is it the name of my Sara your polluted lips pass back and forth? Is it the virgin innocence of my betrothed you would trade between you? Nay!"

      And with a tremendous effort he freed himself and attacked the soldiers with his naked hands. In the thick of the conflict, Sara, who had seized the lamp, went out with it to search for the knife. In the dark the struggle continued, but when Sara returned with the knife she found Jael on the floor with blood running from a wound in the head. She screamed, but no attention was paid her until her lover had been securely enmeshed in the pile of fish nets and thrown upon the wooden bench. Then the first soldier, wiping his brow and regaining his helmet, said, "Now shall I take my own?" and he moved toward Sara.

      Turning the point of the fishing knife against her breast she whispered, "If thou takest me, thou takest me dead."

      "'Twas I who first saw her," the second soldier protested, stepping up.

      "Hold thy tongue," his companion exclaimed angrily, "else will I tie thee in the fish net with the Jew. Art thou ready to go with me?" turning toward Sara.

      "Touch me not!" she commanded, drawing back.

      The soldier laughed. "Touch thee not, when thou hast set my blood running like fire? Touch thee not?" and he snatched the knife from her hand and flung it into the pile of nets, as he said, "Flame doth become thy cheek and fire thine eye! Come, nay—thou comest not? Then will Jael hang on a cross. Then will Jael's flayed back draw many stinging flies. Then will Jael's moans for water to cool his veins drained dry of blood, make sweet music. Then will the smell of Jael's flesh draw dogs with whetted fangs. Then—"

      "Stop! Stay!" cried Sara. "Wilt thou spare Jael?"

      "When thou art mine, then Jael shall be spared."

      Sara turned to the bench. "Jael—Jael—Jael," she called, drawing her long hair across her face.

      "Tangle not thy fair tresses. Soft must they lie across my cheek when thou art mine. Come," and the soldier lay hands upon her, but she shrank away and throwing herself down beside the bench cried:

      "Oh, Jael—Jael—save me!"

      "Come here," the first soldier called to the second, "thy sword. A live Roman is better than a dead Jew. Why wait we for the cross?"

      Turning on her knees before the soldier, Sara caught the upraised sword saying, "Nay—nay—spare him."

      "Wilt thou come with me?"

      "Yea—God of my fathers—God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, I come! But ere I leave my home forever, let me have the blessing of my mother Rachael. Stand thou beyond the threshold lest thy presence pollute the air."

      "Thou wouldst be blessed?" and the soldier laughed. "I await beyond the threshold," and pushing the other soldier in front of him, he stepped outside and stood where he could watch the pile of fish nets, from which came the sound of heavy breathing.

      "My blessing," Sara whispered, "the bitter hemlock!"

      With tears streaming down her withered cheeks while she muttered and cursed, the aged woman fastened Sara's torn bodice, binding the deadly herb within easy hand's reach.

CHAPTER II

       Table of Contents

      AT TIBERIAS

      A Tyrian merchant-ship manned by three galleys of oarsmen, turned its high and proudly arched red and gold neck into the harbor of Tiberias.

      After the manner of that master builder his father, Herod the Great, in building Caesarea, Herod Antipas had built Tiberias as a home of luxury for himself and a fitting tribute to the ruling Caesar. The great semicircular harbor reared its colossal pillars in a mighty curve flanked far out in the sea by massive towers of gray stone. On a hill rising gradually from beyond the harbor stood the royal palace of Antipas, its polished marble gleaming through the tops of palms and the lace-like green of shittah trees. Against this background of pillared stone and shining marble and living green was the shipping in the harbor. Hugged against the dock near by was a load of silver from Tarshish. Near it was a ship from Caprus bearing copper. A cargo of wine from Damascus and a cargo of linen from Egypt rocked side by side; and a low boat piled with shells of dye fish had just come into port from the far Peloponnesus, while everywhere ships of different size and kind from those centers of commercial activity, Tyre and Sidon, were changing sails and dipping oars.

      In the prow of the Tyrian merchant-ship stood Zador Ben Amon, by race and faith a Jew; by political alignment a Sadducee; by occupation an importer of precious stones, owner of a number of shops in Jerusalem where cunning work was done in gold and ivory, and a money-changer in the Temple. Zador Ben Amon was returning from a prosperous trip that had taken him as far as Rome, and having business with Herod Antipas had sent word of his visit to Tiberias. It was with a smile he stroked his perfumed beard as he caught sight of an equipage making its way to the water-front. A flock of goats and rams being driven by Arabs across the wharf, scattered, and to both right and left sailors and slaves made way for the driver of Herod's horses.

      Black as ravens were the horses of Herod Antipas, and shiny as satin. Their manes and tails hung in closely curled, glossy ringlets and their heavy harness was thickly studded with polished gold buttons. The glossy black hair of Antipas was also curled, and the crown-like head-gear he wore was thickly studded with jewels, as was also the richly gold embroidered border of his robe. In his ears he wore rings which swung down against the upper edge of his curled and greased beard.

      The greeting between Antipas and the money-changer was cordial; and before they went to the palace, Zador Ben Amon was driven about the city to see the stadium, the new theatre, the streets and the underground watercourses. And he was taken to the famous hot baths a mile down the seaside, considered by Romans one of the great curiosities of the world. It was in the feast room Zador made known his business, and yet, not until some discussion of other matters had taken place, beginning with a description of a Roman banquet at which the Jew had been a guest.

      "The table at which we sat was of citron wood from Mauritania, more precious than gold. And it was covered with a plateau of massive silver weighing five hundred pounds—five hundred pounds, mind you, chased and carven. Dost thou marvel that I made friends with the Romans?"

      "Thou art wise, Son of Amon," Antipas answered.

      "After the feast, young slave girls strewed the mosaic with sawdust dyed saffron and vermilion, mixed with sparkling powder, and naked virgins danced—naked virgins!"

      Herod Antipas rubbed his palms and smiled, showing the tips of several sharp teeth.

      "And the next day," continued the guest, "we went to the circus and waved our ribbon-decked palms while half a score of combatants were dragged to the spoilarium and carted through the Gate of Death. A bloody sport, but they enjoy it, and gladiators are plenty. Gorgeous the shows of Rome; like the waters of the Tiber doth her wine flow, and her gold is like the stars for plenty."

      "And the populace, doth it not mutter even as our own?"

      "Into the feast halls comes no mention of the populace. Yet it hath been said they stand