THE ROBE (33 page)

The Senator's lips slowly puckered and his shoulders twitched with a
silent chuckle. He was on the point of asking her if she had ever thought of
taking up diplomacy as a profession; but the matter at issue was too serious
for badinage. He grew suddenly grave.

'Now that you know--about Marcellus--I need not repeat the painful
story.'

'It is all very strange.' Diana's averted eyes were troubled. 'According
to Nevius, it was an execution that upset Marcellus.' Her expressive eyes
slowly returned to search the Senator's sober face. 'There must be more to it
than that, sir. Marcellus has seen cruel things done. Who has not? Is not the
arena bloody enough? Why should Marcellus sink into grief and despair because
he had to put a man to death?--no matter who--no matter how! He has seen men
die!'

'This was a crucifixion, Diana,' said the Senator, quietly.

'And perfectly ghastly, no doubt,' she agreed, 'and Nevius says there
was much talk of the man's innocence. Well--that wasn't Marcellus's fault. He
didn't conduct the trial, nor chose the manner of execution. I can understand
his not wanting to do it, but surely no amount of brooding is going to bring
this poor Jew back to life! There is a mystery behind it, I think. Nevius had a
tale about a haunted robe, and darkness in the middle of the afternoon, and a
confused jumble about a predicted Messiah, or something like that. Does
Marcellus think he has killed a person of great importance? Is that what's
fretting him?'

'I shall tell you the very little that I know about it, Diana, and you
may draw your own conclusions. As for me, it has been difficult to arrive at any
sensible solution to the problem.' Gallio frowned studiously. 'For ages, the
Jewish prophets have predicted the coming of a champion of their people's
liberty. This fearless chieftain would restore the Jews' kingdom. Indeed, the
traditional forecast (according to Emperor Tiberius, who is learned in all
occult matters) is of wider scope, prefiguring a king with a more extensive
dominion than the mere government of poor little Palestine.'

'Somebody the size of the Cæsars?' wondered Diana.

'At least,' nodded Gallio, with a brief, derisory grin. 'Now, it happens
that a very considerable number of Jews thought they had reason to believe that
this Galilean, whom the Temple executives and the Roman provincial government
tried for treason and heresy, was their promised Messiah--'

'But, surely,' broke in Diana, 'Marcellus doesn't believe anything like
that! He's the last person in the world!'

'That is true,' agreed Gallio. 'He is not superstitious. But--according
to Demetrius, who was present throughout the whole affair, it was a strange
occasion. The Jew's demeanour at the trial was, to say the least, unusual.
Demetrius says everybody was on trial but the prisoner; says the man's
behaviour on the cross was heroic. And Demetrius is a cold-blooded fellow, not
accustomed to inventing lies.'

'What do you think about the robe?' queried Diana.

'I have no ideas,' confessed the Senator. 'Marcellus had had a hard day.
He was nervous, ashamed, overwrought. He may have been a victim of his own
imagination. But--when he put on that robe, it did something to him! We may not
like the implications of this problem, but--well--there it is! You doubtless
think it is silly to believe that the Jew's robe is haunted, and so do I. All
such idiotic prattle is detestable to me! I do not believe there is any energy
resident in an inanimate thing. As for the Messiah legend, I have no interest
in it. Whether the Galilean was justly accused, or not, is a closed incident,
of no concern to me. But, after all of these considerations are dismissed, either
as foolish or finished, Marcellus is worrying himself into madness. That much,
at least, we know for a fact.' Gallio rubbed his wrinkled brow and gave a
hopeless sigh.

'Nevius says the Emperor wants Marcellus to come to Capri as a teacher,'
said Diana, after the brief silence between them. 'We don't want him to do
that; do we, sir?'

'I find it difficult to see Marcellus in that rôle,' agreed Gallio. 'He
has but scant respect for the kind of learning that engages the mind of the
Emperor.'

'Do you think he will consent?'

'Well'--Gallio made a helpless little gesture--'Marcellus may not have
much choice in the matter. He is, at present, able to remain in Athens. But
when he comes home, he will have to obey the Emperor's order, whether he enjoys
it or not.'

Suddenly Diana leaned forward, her face clouded with anxiety.

'Tell him not to come home,' she whispered. 'He mustn't come here!' She
rose, and Gallio, mystified, rose to his feet, regarding her with serious
interest. 'I must tell you something,' she went on, nervously. She took him by
the arm and pointed to a long row of stakes, with little flags fluttering on
them. 'This is where the Emperor is going to build the beautiful new villa. He
is drawing the plans for it now. When it is finished, it is to be mine.'

Gallio stared.

'Yours?' he said, woodenly. 'Do you mean you want to live here, under
the thumb of this cruel, crazy old man?'

Diana's eyes were full of tears. She shook her head, and turned her face
away, still holding tightly to the Senator's arm.

'He suggested it, sir, when I was pleading with him to bring Marcellus
home,' she confided, brokenly. 'It wasn't exactly a condition to his promise to
send for Marcellus, but--he seems now to think it was. I thought he would
forget about it. He forgets almost everything. But I'm afraid he means to go
through with it. That is why he wants Marcellus here. It is to be our villa.'

'Well,' soothed Gallio. 'Why not, then? Is it not true that Marcellus
and you are in love?'

Diana nodded and bent her head.

'There will be much trouble if he comes to Capri,' she said, huskily.
Then, dashing the tears from her eyes and facing Gallio squarely, she said, 'I
must tell you all about it. Please don't try to do anything. Gaius has been
here twice recently. He wants me to marry him. The Emperor will not let me go
home. I have written to my mother and I know the letter was not delivered.'

'I shall tell her to come to you, at once!' declared Gallio, hotly.

'No, no, not yet, please!' Diana clutched his arm with both hands,
'Maybe there will be some other way out! I must not put my mother in danger!'

'But, Diana, you can't stay here--under these conditions!'

'Please! Don't say--or do--anything.' She was trembling.

'What are you afraid of, my dear?' demanded Gallio.

'I am afraid of Gaius!' she whispered.

Chapter XI

At sunrise on the seventh day of September a market gardener with fresh
fruits and vegetables for the House of Eupolis reported that the
Vestris
has been sighted off Piræus.

Feeling sure there must be letters for him on the ship, and unwilling to
await their sluggish delivery through the Tetrarch's Insula in the city,
Marcellus engaged a port-wagon and set off at once, accompanied by Demetrius.

Ordinarily the slave would have sat by the driver, but, of late,
Demetrius and his master had been conducting all of their conversations in
Aramaic. It was not an easy tongue, and when they spoke they enunciated
carefully, watching each other's lips. This morning they sat side by side in
the rear seat of the jolting wagon, and anyone casually observing them would
not have guessed that one of these young men owned the other. Indeed, Demetrius
was taking the lead in the conversation, occasionally criticizing his master's
accent.

Every morning after breakfast, for several weeks, Demetrius had gone to
Benjamin's shop for instruction, spending the day until late afternoon. The old
weaver had not asked to be recompensed for his services as a pedagogue. It
would be a pleasure to him, he said. But as the days went by, Demetrius began
to be useful in the shop, quickly picking up deftness in carding and spinning.
In the evenings, he relayed his accumulating knowledge of Aramaic to Marcellus
who, unwilling to be in Benjamin's debt, had presented him (in spite of his
protest) with two great bales of long-fibred Egyptian cotton and several bags
of selected wools from the Cyprian Mountains where fleeces were appropriate to
a severe climate.

Benjamin, who had no talent for flattery, had been moved to volunteer
the statement--after a month had passed--that Demetrius was making surprising
progress. If that were true, Demetrius had remarked, it was because he had
received such clear instruction, to which Benjamin had replied that the best
way to learn anything is to explain it to somebody else. Marcellus was
absorbing his Aramaic with enthusiasm, but none-the-less thoroughly; for
Demetrius was holding him to it with a tactful but relentless tyranny.

On the way to Piræus, they were engaged in an animated discussion of the
Ten Commandments, Marcellus approving of them, Demetrius complaining that they
were unjust. On occasions, he became so enthusiastic in advocating his cause
that he abandoned the Aramaic and took to the Greek, much to his master's
amusement.

'Here, you!' shouted Marcellus. 'No talking about the Jewish
Commandments in a heathen language!'

'But, sir, they are so unfair! "Thou shalt not steal." Very
good; but there is no Commandment enjoining the man of property to deal
generously with the poor, so they would have no wish to steal! "Thou shall
not covet!" Good advice; no doubt. But is it fair to tell the poor man he
mustn't be envious of the rich man's goods--and then forget to admonish the
rich man that he has no right to be so selfish?'

'Oh--you're just looking at it from the slave angle,' objected
Marcellus. 'You're prejudiced. The only fault I can find with the Commandments
is their injunction against sculpture. This Jehovah was certainly no patron of
the arts.'

'That was to keep them from making idols,' explained Demetrius.

'I know--but what's the matter with idols? They're usually quite
artistic. The ordinary run of people are bound to worship something: it had
better be something lovely! Old Zeus didn't raise a row when the Greek
sculptors carved a flock of gods--all shapes and sizes--take your pick. There
must be forty of them on Mars' Hill! They even have one up there in honour of
"The Unknown God."'

'I wonder what Zeus thought of that one?' speculated Demetrius.

'He probably laughed,' said Marcellus. 'He does laugh, sometimes, you
know. I think that's the main trouble with Jehovah. He doesn't laugh.'

'Maybe he doesn't think the world is very funny,' observed Demetrius.

'Well, that's his fault, then,' said Marcellus, negligently. 'If he
created it, he should have made it a little funnier.'

Demetrius made no reply to that.

'I believe that's the silliest thing I ever said in my life!' reflected
Marcellus, soberly.

'Oh, I wouldn't go so far as to say that, sir,' rejoined Demetrius,
formally. They both laughed. This study of Aramaic was making their
master-slave relationship very difficult to sustain.

Captain Fulvius, roaring orders to the sweating slaves, stared strangely
at Marcellus as he came on deck; then beamed with sudden recognition and
grasped him warmly by the hand.

'You are well again, sir!' he boomed. 'That is good! I hardly knew you.
Many's the time I have thought about you. You were a very sick man!'

'I must have tried your patience, Captain,' said Marcellus. 'All is well
now, thank you.'

'Ho! Demetrius!' Fulvius offered his hand, somewhat to Marcellus's
surprise. 'I haven't forgotten that good turn you did me, son, on the voyage
down from Joppa.'

'I hadn't heard about that,' said Marcellus, turning a questioning
glance towards Demetrius.

'It was nothing, sir,' murmured Demetrius.

'Nothing!' shouted Fulvius. 'The fellow saves my life, and now declares
it was nothing! Demetrius, you should be put in chains for that!' He turned to
Marcellus. 'You were too ill to be interested in the story, sir; so we did not
bother you with it. A mad slave--it gets quite hot, down in the bottom tier,
sir--managed to slip his bracelet, one night, when we were standing off
Alexandria; sneaked up on deck, and had a belaying-pin raised to dash my brains
out. And your Demetrius got there just in time!'

'I am glad I happened to be standing by, sir,' said Demetrius.

'So am I!' declared the Captain, fervently. 'Well, it's good to see you
both. There are letters for you, I notice, Legate. I asked the Tribune to take
them to you when he went to deliver the message from the Emperor, but he is a
haughty young fellow; said he was not a common errand-boy.'

'Message from the Emperor?' queried Marcellus, uneasily.

'You have not yet received it, then? Perhaps you passed the magnificent
Tribune on the way. Will you stay and break bread with us?'

'It would be a pleasure, Captain Fulvius; but I should return without
delay. This Tribune may be waiting.'

'Aye! He will be waiting and fuming; a restless fellow, who takes his
duties hard; a very important fellow, too, who likes to give orders.' Fulvius
sighed unhappily. 'And I shall have him on my hands for another threescore and
five days, at least; for he is bearing a message also to Pontius Pilate in
Jerusalem--and returns on the
Vestris.'

'Can't you pitch him overboard?' suggested Marcellus.

'I can,' grinned Fulvius, 'but my wife is expecting me back in Ostia by
early December. Legate, if you can spare Demetrius for the day, shall he not
tarry with me?'

Marcellus was about to give his consent, but hesitated.

'He may come tomorrow, Fulvius, if you wish it. Perhaps he had best
return with me now. This message from the Emperor might make some alterations
in our plans.'

'Thank you, Captain Fulvius,' said Demetrius. 'I shall come if I can.'