Authors: Unknown
The Legate's face sobered, and Marcellus, noting his serious interest,
enlarged upon his impromptu idea.
'Consider these tales about Jesus, Paulus. He is reputed to have made
blind men see: there is no story that he made any man blind. He is said to have
changed water into wine; not wine into water. He made a crippled child walk; he
never made any child a cripple.'
'Excellent!' applauded Paulus. 'The kings have been destroyers,
despoilers. They have made men blind, crippled, broken.' He paused, and went
on, muttering half to himself, 'Wouldn't the world be surprised if once it
should have a government that came to the rescue of the blind and sick and
lame? By the gods! I wish this absurd tale about the Galilean were true!'
'Do you mean that, Paulus, or are you jesting?' demanded Marcellus,
earnestly.
'Well,' compromised the Legate, 'I'm as serious as the matter warrants,
seeing it hasn't a leg to stand on.' His forehead wrinkled in a judicial frown.
'But see here, Marcellus, aren't you going in for this Jesus business a little
too far for your own good?'
Marcellus made no reply, other than an enigmatic pursing of the lips.
Paulus grinned, shrugged, and replenished his goblet. His manner said they
would drop that phase of the subject.
'What else do they say about him, up here in the country?' he asked,
negligently. 'You seem to have been making inquiries.'
'They have a story in Cana,' replied Marcellus, quietly, 'about a young
woman who discovered she could sing. The people think Jesus was responsible for
it.'
'Taught her to sing?'
'No. One day she found that she could sing. They believe he had
something to do with it. I heard her, Paulus. There hasn't been anything quite
like it, so far as I know.'
'Indeed!' enthused Paulus. 'I must tell the Tetrarch. It's part of my
business, you know, to please the old rascal. He may invite her to entertain
one of his banquets.'
'No, Paulus, please!' protested Marcellus. 'This girl has been gently
bred. Moreover, she is a cripple; can't stand up; never leaves the
neighbourhood.'
'He gave her a voice, and left her a cripple, eh?' Paulus grinned. 'How
do you explain that?'
'I don't explain it; I just report it. But I sincerely hope you will say
nothing about her to Herod. She would feel very much out of place in his
palace, if what I have heard about him is correct.'
'If what you've heard is revolting,' commented Paulus, bitterly, 'it's
correct. But if you are so concerned about these Christians, it might be to
their advantage if one of their daughters sang acceptably for the lecherous old
fox.'
'No!' snapped Marcellus, hotly. 'She and her family are friends of mine.
I beg of you not to degrade her with an invitation to meet Herod Antipas or any
member of his household!'
Paulus agreed that they were a precious lot of scoundrels, including
Herod's incorrigible daughter Salome. A dangerous little vixen, he declared,
responsible for a couple of assassinations, and notoriously unchaste. He
chuckled unpleasantly, and added that she had come by her talents honestly
enough, seeing that her father--if he was her father--hadn't even the respect
of the Sanhedrin, and her mother was as promiscuous as a cat. He snorted
contemptuously, and drank to take the taste of them out of his mouth. Marcellus
scowled, but made no comment. Presently he became aware that Paulus was
regarding him with a friendly but reproachful inspection.
'I wonder if you realize, Marcellus,' Paulus was saying, 'that your keen
concern for these Christians might sometime embarrass you. May I talk to you
about that, without giving offence?'
'Why not, Paulus?' replied Marcellus, graciously.
'Why not? Because it may sound impertinent. We are of the same rank. It
does not behove me to give you advice, much less injunctions.'
'Injunctions?' Marcellus's brows lifted a little. 'I'm afraid I don't
understand.'
'Let me explain, then. I assume you know what has been happening in
Palestine during the past year. For a few weeks, after the execution of the
Galilean, his movement appeared to be a closed incident. The leaders of his
party scattered, most of them returning to this neighbourhood. The influential
men of Jerusalem were satisfied. There were sporadic rumours that Jesus had
been seen in various places after his death, but nobody with any sense took
these tales seriously. It was expected that the whole affair would presently be
forgotten.'
'And then it revived,' remarked Marcellus, as Paulus paused to take
another drink.
'Revived is not the word. It hadn't died. Secret groups had been meeting
in many cities. For a few months there were very few outward signs of it. The
authorities had contempt for it, feeling that it was a thing of no importance,
either as to size or quality. Then, one day, it began to dawn on the priests
that their synagogues were not being patronized; the tithes were not paid. Then
the merchants observed that their business was increasingly bad. In Jericho,
more than half of the population now make no secret of their affiliations. In
Antioch, the Christians are quite outspoken, and adding daily to their numbers.
Nor is interest in this party limited to the poor and helpless, as was at first
supposed. Nobody knows how many there are in Jerusalem, but the Temple is
beside itself with anxiety and anger, prodding the Insula to do something
drastic. Old Julian is being harassed by the priests and merchants, who are
making it plain that he must act--or resign.'
'What does he think of doing about it?' inquired Marcellus.
'Well'--Paulus flicked his hands in a baffled gesture--'it's obvious
that the movement cannot be tolerated. It may look innocuous to a casual
visitor like yourself; but, to the solid respectables of Jerusalem, it is
treason, mutiny, blasphemy, and a general disintegration of their established
ways. Julian doesn't want a bloody riot on his hands, and has been playing for
time; but the city fathers are at the end of their patience.'
'But surely they can't find much fault with the things Jesus taught,'
interposed Marcellus. 'He urged kindness, fair dealing, good will. Don't the
influential men of Palestine believe in letting the people treat one another
decently?'
'That isn't the point, Marcellus, and you know it,' argued Paulus,
impatiently. 'These Christians are refusing to do business on the old basis.
More and more they are patronizing one another. Why, even here in little
Capernaum, if you don't have the outline of a fish scrawled on the door of your
shop, it doesn't pay you to open up.' He studied his friend's interested face,
and grinned. 'I suppose you know what that fish stands for.'
Marcellus nodded, and smiled broadly.
'No, it isn't a bit funny!' warned Paulus, grimly. 'And I must strongly
counsel you that the less you see of these Christians, the better it will
be'--he checked himself, and finished lamely in a tone almost inaudible--'for
all of us.'
'But for me in particular, I think you mean,' said Marcellus.
'Have it your own way.' Paulus waved his arm. 'I'm not having a good
time--saying these things to you. But I don't want to see you get into trouble.
And you easily could, you know! When the pressure is put on, it's going to get
rough! The fact that you're a Roman Tribune will not count for much, once the
stampede begins! We are going to make war on the Christians, Marcellus, no
matter who they are! Why don't you clear out before you get into trouble? Take
your slave--and go!'
'I do not know where he is,' admitted Marcellus.
'Well, I do,' grinned Paulus. 'He is in bed, somewhere here in the
fort.'
'A prisoner?'
'No, but he ought to be.' The Legate laughingly recounted the
afternoon's revelations. 'By the way,' he ended, 'did you see him destroy
Quintus?'
Marcellus, who had been much amused by the recital, shook his head.
'I saw the Tribune shortly afterwards,' he said. 'The work had been well
done, I assure you.'
'It gratified me to hear about it,' said Paulus, 'as I have no respect
for Quintus and his misfortunes do not annoy me; but'--he grew suddenly
serious--'this was no light offence, and may yet have to be settled for. Your
Demetrius is free to go, but I hope he will not linger in this country; at
least, not in my jurisdiction. Nor you, Marcellus! Consider your predicament:
your slave is wanted for assaulting a Tribune; moreover, he is known to have
been in close association with the Christian party in Jerusalem. He can be
apprehended on either count. Now, it may be assumed that you know all this. In
short, you have been harbouring a criminal and a Christian; and your own
position as a friend of the Christians is of no advantage to you. What do you
intend to do about it?'
'I had thought of remaining in Palestine for a few weeks, before
proceeding to Rome,' said Marcellus. 'I have no definite plans.'
'Better have some plans!' advised Paulus, sternly. 'Your situation is
more hazardous than you think. It will do your pious Galilean friends no good
to have you championing their cause. I tell you candidly that they are all in
imminent danger of arrest. I advise you to pack your travel equipment early in
the morning, go quietly across country to Joppa, and take the first ship that
heads for home.'
'Thanks for the counsel, Paulus,' replied Marcellus, non-committally.
'May I have a word with Demetrius now?'
Paulus frowned darkly and dismissed the request with a gesture of
exasperation.
'The fact that your Greek slave is a superior fellow and your friend,'
he said, crisply, 'does not alter his status in the opinion of my own retinue.
I suggest that you wait until morning to see him.'
'As you like,' said Marcellus, unruffled.
Paulus rose unsteadily.
'Let us retire now,' he said, more cordially, 'and meet for breakfast at
sunrise. Then'--he smiled meaningly--'if you will insist upon leaving at once,
I shall speed you on your way. I shall do better than that: I shall order a
small detachment of legionaries, acquainted with the less travelled roads, to
see you safely to Joppa.'
'But I am not going to Joppa, Paulus,' declared Marcellus, firmly. 'I am
not leaving Palestine until I have fully satisfied myself about this story of
the Galilean's return to life.'
'And how are you to do that?' demanded Paulus. 'By interviewing a few
deluded fishermen, perhaps?'
'That's one way of putting it,' rejoined Marcellus, unwilling to take
offence. 'I want to talk with some of the leaders.'
'They are not here now,' said Paulus. 'The foremost of them are in
Jerusalem.'
'Then I am going to Jerusalem!'
For a moment, Paulus, with tight lips, deliberated a reply. A sardonic
grin slowly twisted his mouth.
'If you start tomorrow for Jerusalem,' he predicted ominously, 'you
should arrive about the right time to find them all in prison. Then--unless you
are more prudent than you appear to be at present--you will get into a lot of
trouble.' He clapped his hands for the guard. 'Show the Tribune to his room,'
he ordered. Offering his hand, with his accustomed geniality, he smiled and
said, 'I hope you rest well. We will see each other in the morning.'
They entered the city unchallenged two hours before sunset. The sentries
at the Damascus Gate did not so much as bother to ask Marcellus his name or
what manner of cargo was strapped to the tired little donkeys. It was evident
that Jerusalem was not on the alert.
The journey from Capernaum had been made with dispatch, considering the
travellers were on foot. By rising before dawn and keeping steadily at it--even
through the sultry valleys, where the prudent rested in the shade while the sun
was high--the trip had been accomplished in three days.
Warned by Paulus's grim forecast of drastic action about to be taken
against the Christians, Marcellus had expected to encounter arrogant troops and
frightened people, but the roads were quiet and the natives were going about
their small affairs with no apparent feeling of insecurity. If it were true
that a concerted attack on them had been planned, it was still a well-guarded
secret.
Their leave-taking of Capernaum had been almost without incident.
Arriving early at the tent, they found that Justus had disappeared. Shalum had
no explanation to offer. The mother of little Thomas, when they stopped at her
home to make inquiries, had no more to say than that Justus and Jonathan had
left for Sepphoris an hour ago. Marcellus had a momentary impulse to follow
them and reassure Justus; but, remembering Paulus's injunction that the
Galileans would now be better served if he gave them no further attention, he
proceeded on his way with many misgivings. If was no small matter to have lost
Justus's friendship. He wanted to stop in Cana and have a farewell word with
Miriam, but decided against it.
After supper that first night out (they had camped in a meadow five
miles south-east of Cana) Marcellus had insisted on hearing all about
Demetrius's experiences with the Christians in Jerusalem, especially with
reference to their belief in the reappearance of Jesus. The Greek was more than
willing to tell everything he knew. There was no uncertainty in his mind about
the truth of the resurrection story.
'But, Demetrius, that is impossible, you know!' Marcellus had declared
firmly when his slave had finished.
'Yes, I know, sir,' Demetrius had admitted.
'But you believe it!'
'Yes, sir.'
'Well, there's no sense to be made out of that!' grumbled Marcellus,
impatiently. 'To admit a thing's impossible, and in the next breath confess
your belief in it, makes your argument very unconvincing.'
'If you will pardon me, sir,' ventured Demetrius, 'I was not arguing.
You asked me: I told you. I am not trying to persuade you to believe in it. And
I agree that what I have been saying doesn't make sense.'