CHAPTER XXVI

JUSTICE THE AVENGER

It was a lovely sunny morning in April as Crispus and Rufus strolled along the sands in the vicinity of Cæsarea-by-the-sea.

“Have you seen the new coin struck by Titus to commemorate his conquest?” asked Rufus; and, being answered in the negative, he drew forth a sesterce, and exhibited it to the gaze of Crispus.

The obverse of the coin bore the laureated head of Titus; the reverse, a graceful palm-tree, at the foot of which sat the weeping figure of a woman, emblematic of Judæa; behind the palm stood Titus in a military uniform, with his foot on a helmet, holding in his right hand a lance, and in his left a sword. The words JUDÆA CAPTA formed the legend.

“This weeping figure is obviously intended as a portrait of Berenice,” remarked Crispus in some surprise.

“Just so. ’Tis said that Titus, happening to see Berenice sitting beneath a palm weeping, or pretending to weep, for her country, was so struck by the sight that he ordered the Master of the Mint at Cæsarea to immortalize her figure and attitude in the issue of commemorative coins.”

“Did Berenice have aught to say on the matter?”

“She was not averse to it.”

No; doubtless it suited her taste for emotional display to see herself set forth to the Roman world in the character of a devout patriot weeping for the fall of her country. The hollowness both of her grief and of her religion, in fact her entire lack of womanly feeling, was shown by her presence at the games held at Cæsarea Philippi in honor of Domitian’s birthday, when she could calmly sit in the amphitheater there and see 2,500 hapless Jews slaughtered, either in combats with wild beasts, or in fighting with each other as gladiators; for Titus, prevented from sailing to Rome by reason of the advanced season at which the war ended--navigation being usually suspended during the winter months--had spent his time in giving a series of fêtes in various cities of the East, fêtes that were seldom celebrated without the butchery of Jews in the arena.

“Berenice has been with Titus at all these festivities,” remarked Rufus. “She has become his mistress, as I thought she would. So amorous are they that they all but fondle each other in public. It is Antony and Cleopatra over again. Will he marry her, I wonder?”

“Not till I have divorced her,” responded Crispus, quietly.

Rufus stared in amazement at this intimation of a secret hitherto kept from him. Crispus proceeded to tell the story of the wedding at Beth-tamar, giving his reasons for supposing Berenice to be the veiled lady.

“The Princess Berenice your wife?” murmured Rufus, scarcely able to credit the statement. “Humph! and when Cæsar takes a man’s wife, where shall the man look for redress?”

“He’s welcome to her. She is my wife no longer. I shall repudiate her.”

“No, not yet,” exclaimed Rufus, his face suddenly lighting up with excitement. “You must not do so just yet. You must delay your purpose for a while in order to save Vashti.”

“Ha! what mean you? How can the delay serve Vashti?”

Rufus laughed with a sort of good-humored contempt at what he conceived to be a sad lack of discernment on the part of Crispus.

“Was there any stipulation made at this marriage that the wife was to retain the separate possession of her property?”

“None.”

“Then Vashti may be set free.”

“How?” asked Crispus eagerly.

“By you, of course. O, dullard! All you have to do now is to walk into the presence of Titus and Berenice, and to say, ‘Woman, you are my wife. The law gives you to me, as doth also this document signed by Vespasian.’ Titus dare not oppose you, if you are determined to assert your legal rights. Then you lead the proud princess home, by force if she will not come by persuasion, and you address her thus: ‘You are mine, and all that you have is mine, including your household slaves. Therefore, in the exercise of my lawful right, I declare this maiden Vashti to be free.’ That’s the plan you must adopt, Crispus. Afterwards, repudiate her, if you will; but--liberate Vashti first.”

Crispus, with the fire of hope coursing through his veins, resolved to follow the daring suggestion of Rufus.

“The sooner this business be done, the better,” said he.

“There I agree with you. What more appropriate time than to-morrow night when Berenice gives a grand banquet in the Prætorium, that edifice being graciously lent for the occasion by the new procurator, Antonius Julianus, who, by the way, talks of writing a history[39] of the war, thereby entering into rivalry with Josephus. You and I are invited to this entertainment; in truth, if you are absent, Berenice will suffer sore disappointment, seeing that she hath prepared a little mortification for you. She hath decreed that her slave Vashti shall wait as cup-bearer upon the chief guests.”

“May the intended humiliation fall upon Berenice’s own head!”

“So say I. What hath our pretty Vashti done that she should be thus shamed? I confess I am beginning to dislike the princess, whom I once so much admired. You must certainly put your plan into operation to-morrow night. In the face of all the company claim Berenice as your wife, and assert your authority over her, to the confusion of Titus. She is desirous, so ’tis said, of providing her guests with a rare entertainment; it’s very likely she’ll succeed.”

Crispus, determined to adopt this scheme--he blinked its difficulties--impatiently awaited the moment for putting it into execution.

When the time fixed for the banquet drew near, Crispus, assuming his whitest and handsomest toga, with its broad purple border, went, accompanied by Rufus, to that palace, still called, though its founder had been seventy years dead, Herod’s Prætorium.

Upon entering he found that the scene of the feast was the same as that in which Florus had held _his_ banquet.

It was malice that made Berenice choose this hall; the very place that had seen Vashti hailed as the queen of beauty was now to see her degraded to the condition of a slave, compelled to wait upon the princess whose charms had been slighted by Crispus, while Crispus himself was invited to look on and behold her humiliation.

He smiled within himself. The sequel would show whose was to be the humiliation.

The banquet-hall presented a brilliant scene, thronged as it was with all the brave captains who had taken part in the war, and with fair ladies whose richly dyed robes afforded a perpetual feast of color.

Crispus and his companion arrived just as the guests were preparing to take their places at the various triclinia.

Berenice was there, moving with a proud and stately step, and, as though she were already an empress, wearing an Eastern diadem upon her dark hair.

By her side walked the laureled Titus, clad in imperial purple, and seemingly in excellent spirits, though he suddenly started as he caught sight of Crispus, and over his face came a guilty look which Rufus interpreted in his own way.

“Ashamed of himself at stealing his friend’s wife. Though he be Cæsar, and my commander, I shall rejoice if he meet by and by with deserved discomfiture.”

Crispus and Rufus were allotted places next each other, not, however, at the chief triclinium where were Titus, Berenice, Agrippa, Alexander, and others, but at an adjacent triclinium, an arrangement that suited the two friends, who were thus enabled to talk with more freedom than they could have enjoyed at Cæsar’s table.

At the same triclinium with Crispus was Josephus, who had his place next to the Roman.

“Do you know the humiliation intended for Vashti?” asked Crispus.

Josephus signified assent, adding:

“Aware that your presence here will save her, I can await the issue with a serene mind.”

“Rufus,” whispered Crispus to his friend, “you have been communicating our plan to Josephus.”

But as Rufus gave an emphatic denial to this, Crispus was not a little puzzled by the words of Josephus.

By the side of the historian sat a stately and venerable dame.

“My mother,” remarked Josephus, “and her purpose in being here is the same as mine,” he added with a mysterious smile, “to obtain Vashti’s freedom.”

It seemed from this that Josephus, too, had some plan for delivering his ward from Berenice’s hands. What was the nature of the plan, and was it likely to succeed? But to all questioning Josephus remained provokingly evasive, so that Crispus was fain to hold his soul in patience.

It soon became clear, however, from the conversation of Josephus, that he was animated by a spirit of bitter hostility to Berenice, caused by her patronage of those amphitheatrical games in which Jews were pitilessly butchered. Titus, too, came in for a share of his animadversions.

“He hath ordered that the didrachmas which every adult Jew is accustomed to pay annually into the temple treasury, shall now be paid into the temple of the Capitoline Jupiter. You, as a Christian, can understand the feeling of the Jew in this matter. And the golden cherubim that overshadowed the mercy seat he hath given to the heathen; the sacred figures which none but the high priest was permitted to see are now profanely placed as a trophy over the eastern gate of Antioch, so that it is beginning to be known as the Gate of the Cherubim. And nigh to it he hath dedicated a chariot to the Moon, for the help which she hath given him during the siege. The moon, forsooth!”

The signal for the feast was now given, and richly clad slaves, both male and female, moved to and fro, attentive to the wants of the guests.

“I do not see Vashti,” whispered Crispus to Josephus.

“She will not enter till the drinking begins.”

Gay conversation went on all around, but Crispus took little or no part in it. Vashti! Vashti! was the one thought of his mind.

At last repletion came to the guests; both the heavier and the lighter dishes were removed from the tables to make way for the wines.

“And now, my lords,” cried Berenice, addressing those at her own triclinium, but speaking sufficiently loud for Crispus to hear, “I have a rare vintage for you, to be offered by a cup-bearer as graceful as Hebe herself.”

Among a crowd of wine-bearing slaves that now entered the hall Crispus distinguished the form of Vashti. Quickly the slaves spread themselves to right and left, each going to his appointed place.

Of the thousand persons in the banquet-hall Crispus saw but one only--the fair girl that was moving with a light, graceful step towards the chief triclinium.

Vashti, but how different from her appearance when last seen by him! The disfigurement wrought by the famine had vanished; she was her own sweet self once more.

The charming grace and beauty of her figure were set off by a clinging robe of pure white silk, richly embroidered with gold, and girt at the waist with a broad, silver-sparkling zone. A necklace of pearls encircled her fair throat, and a wreath of violets rested upon her golden ringlets.

She was the living picture of beauty; from the crown of her head to her dainty, gold-embroidered sandals there was not a flaw to mar her radiant loveliness.

The eyes of Josephus’ mother glistened with pleasure at the success of the toilet for which she was responsible, the good dame having resolved that Vashti should appear at her fairest before the guests.

As Vashti caught Crispus’ look she gave him a smile that sent the blood coursing like liquid fire through his veins; it was a smile that showed she had no fear; a smile that seemed to say she knew that he could and would save her. Was she aware of his intentions? he wondered, or was she relying upon the aid of Josephus?

Berenice, with a sudden uneasiness at her heart, began all too late to wish that she had kept her slave from appearing at this banquet, for Vashti’s beauty drew murmurs of admiration from the men, if not from the women.

“Ye gods! who is this?” said Tiberius Alexander. “I did not know, princess, that you had invited Venus to be a guest.”

“’Tis only one of my slaves,” replied Berenice, outwardly calm, inwardly thrilling with jealousy.

“A slave!” said Alexander, with the light of amatory desire leaping into his eyes. “I’ll give you ten thousand aurei for her--fifteen thousand,” he added, breathlessly.

“I would not take a hundred myriads,” replied Berenice, coldly. “She is not for sale.”

At this moment the murmur of tongues ceased throughout the hall. The guests, catching sight of Berenice’s dark face, became suddenly silent, desirous of discovering what was amiss.

The princess rose to her feet, and angrily faced the slave who was disobeying her on two points--she was wearing a costume different from that enjoined her, and she lacked the flagon of wine that it was her duty to bear.

“By whose leave do you wear that dress?”

“By my own,” replied Vashti, with a sweet smile that maddened the other. “Why should I consult _you_, princess, as to what manner of raiment I must wear?”

It was a revelation to Crispus to hear the hitherto submissive and gentle Vashti taking this bold stand, and he loved her the more for it. There was no tremor in her voice, nor did she shrink in the least from the fierce gaze of the princess. Indeed, Vashti, in her proud fearlessness, looked at that moment far more of a princess than did Berenice. What wonderful power was it that enabled her thus to brave a mistress who, if she chose, could order her off to instant scourging?

“You dare speak thus to _me_?” exclaimed Berenice amazedly. “O, I see. A freewoman all these years, you cannot yet realize that you are a slave. I will overlook your offense. Go! Bring hither the flagon of wine that you were bidden to pour out for my guests.”

But Vashti shook her pretty golden tresses, and cast an arch smile at those reclining at Berenice’s triclinium.

“Nay, verily, if they desire the wine let them wait upon themselves; or perhaps _you_, princess, will play the part of cup-bearer.”

Berenice stood completely dumfounded at these audacious words from one who had hitherto behaved as her submissive slave. The men looked on with smiles of wonder and amusement; the women were more disposed to side with the princess.

“The slave claims to be a Christian,” sneered Agrippa to a fair lady by his side.

“That explains her insolence,” replied his partner. “I once had one of those creatures among my household, and know the trouble they give. Were I the princess, I would whip the new religion out of her.”

“The girl must be mad,” exclaimed Berenice. “On your knees and cry pardon, or----”

Vashti turned disdainfully away.

“It has pleased me for a time to abide in your house as a slave,” said she. “It pleases me now to resume my freedom. Give your commands to others. There is but one person here who shall have my obedience, and that is my lord Crispus.”

She walked to where Crispus stood--for he had risen to his feet--laid an appealing hand upon his arm, and looked with trusting eyes into his. The supreme moment had come! But how was he to save her? His plan had melted into thin air. It was all very well to claim Berenice as his wife, but the cold conviction suddenly struck him that his claim was based not upon proof, but upon conjecture merely. If Berenice chose to deny his statement, as she undoubtedly would, how could he make his word good? He turned his eyes upon Josephus, but that priest made no movement, uttered no word. “Not yet,” he seemed to be saying.

“Guards!” cried Berenice, addressing some of her own soldiers, who were stationed at intervals along the wall of the banqueting chamber. “Drag yon girl away, and bring whips hither. Since her defiance of me is public, so, too, shall her scourging be.”

Even these words did not disturb Vashti’s serenity. Her pitying smile, implying as it did that she was secure from the threatened punishment, lashed Berenice into a secret fury.

During all this time the greatest man at the feast, Titus, had remained silent, looking on perplexed and uneasy. The redemption of Vashti, though he had often asked for it, was a favor Berenice would not grant him. He was sorry for Crispus, and secretly sympathized with the daring maid who was seeking to assert her liberty, but under the influence of his passion for Berenice he hesitated to do the right thing, namely, to declare Vashti free.

As the soldiers came forward to execute Berenice’s command, Vashti turned to Titus and addressed him.

“Cæsar, bid these men stay their hand till I have spoken. I have that to say which will show the justice of my cause.”

At a sign from Titus the advancing guards paused.

“Say on,” he commanded, hoping that Vashti might somehow be able to furnish him with a plausible pretext for delivering her from the power of Berenice.

Verily, Vashti seemed to be doing the work from which Crispus shrank; for she began to address Titus with a catechism very similar to what Crispus himself would have employed had he carried out his plan as originally intended.

“Have you forgotten, sire, a brief visit made by you and my lord Crispus to a house called Beth-tamar on a certain night more than four years ago?”

Titus started; he guessed what was coming, and frowned.

“I have not forgotten it,” said he, with a side glance at Berenice, whose lip curved with the scornful smile as of one who should say, “That silly story!”

“You can testify that my lord Crispus wedded at Beth-tamar a woman unknown to him?--unknown, because she was veiled and spake never a word.”

This strange and romantic statement caused a murmur of surprise and wonder to run around the banquet-hall.

“I can testify to that,” said Titus, with the air of one who would fain deny what he was affirming.

“Do you know the name of the woman?”

“I do not,” replied Titus, with another side glance at Berenice, which set some of the guests wondering as to whether _she_ were the mysterious bride.

At this point Berenice, with a gesture of impatience, addressed Titus.

“What hath all this to do with the question of punishing an insolent slave?”

“Everything, as you will see,” returned Vashti quietly, continuing her questions to Titus. “Did not Crispus give his bride a ring, saying that when the unknown lady should come to him with the said ring he would acknowledge her as his wife?”

“That is so.”

Vashti, with eyes shining with love, and with a tender smile that made her face the more beautiful, turned to Crispus, and, withdrawing her hand from a fold of her dress where it had lain concealed, she held it forth, and there, sparkling on her finger, was the very ring that he had given to his bride at Beth-tamar!

Scarcely able to grasp the momentous truth Crispus stood like one enchanted to stone, silently staring at Vashti and her ring. To think that his marriage with Berenice, the ugly black incubus that had so long oppressed him, was the mere figment of his own imagination! that the sweet Christian maiden, whom he had loved from the first hour of seeing her, should be his wife, was a revelation so astounding that it was no wonder that at first he could not give it credence.

Vashti gave a low, sweet laugh at his bewilderment.

“I am your wife, Crispus. Won’t you protect me?”

Protect her?

He put his arm about her waist--a dozen men could not have torn her from his grasp!--and turned to face Berenice, who for the moment was almost as much bewildered and amazed as Crispus himself.

“Prettily acted!” sneered she. “A scheme, artfully preconcerted, for the purpose of robbing me of my slave. But it shall not succeed. That Crispus wedded someone at Beth-tamar we must believe, since Cæsar himself affirms it; but I require something more than this girl’s word, ere I shall believe her to be the wife of Crispus.”

“I can confirm her statement,” said Josephus, intervening at this point, “since it was I who conducted Vashti to Beth-tamar, and from behind a curtain saw her wedded to the lord Crispus. And the woman who attended Vashti during the ceremony was my mother, who is here present to bear her testimony, if need be.”

“And in the mouth of two or three witnesses shall every word be established, princess,” remarked Alexander.

Berenice though striving to maintain a calm exterior, was nevertheless full of a secret rage at finding her intended victim slipping from her hands.

“What if she be the wife of Crispus? She is none the less my slave.”

“What? Rob a Roman noble of his wife?” interjected Alexander. “O, too bad!”

“At the time I made the gift I knew not that she was the wife of Crispus,” remarked Titus, not at all displeased with the turn events were taking.

“That matters not,” returned Berenice. “The gift, if made in due legal form, as this was, can be revoked neither by you nor by a court of law.”

Crispus smiled pityingly at the baffled princess.

“I have here,” said he, drawing forth a papyrus-scroll, “a document that bears a date long anterior to the time when Vashti was made a slave, a document that threatens death to those who seek to take the wife of Crispus from him. It bears the autograph signature of one whose authority not even Titus Cæsar himself will venture to dispute, for the signature is that of his august sire, Flavius Vespasian.”

“That is so,” observed Tiberius Alexander, who had drawn near, and was inspecting the document, “and, therefore, it seems to me,” he added, jocularly, “that both Cæsar and the princess, by enslaving the wife of Crispus, have made themselves liable to the death penalty. Doubtless Vespasian will pardon the offenders, as they acted in ignorance. At any rate, Crispus is entitled to lead away his wife; and may good fortune attend him! The bravest man in the war has obtained the fairest woman for his bride; that is what I say, and who will controvert it?” he added, looking round upon the guests.

“None! None!” was the answer that came from every side. Vashti’s romantic story appealed to every heart, save _one_; even those ladies who, a few minutes before, had been most opposed to her, now joined in the acclamations that greeted the happy pair thus strangely reunited.

“Take me away,” whispered Vashti. “Anywhere, so that it be from here.”

Crispus responded to her appeal. Drawing her arm within his own, he passed smilingly from the hall amid cries of “Long live the brave Crispus and his fair bride!”

Miserable Berenice! Her bitterness of spirit at that moment received but little balm from Titus’ gay whisper, “There is now no obstacle to our union,” for she had known all along that the obstacle had never existed save in his own imagination.

* * * * *

In the moonlit gardens of the Prætorium Crispus and Vashti, seated in the very same spot where they had sat four years before, were holding a delightful conversation.

Vashti was reclining within his embrace, her little hand resting within his. The early Christians were very human!

“And to think that during all this time you have been my wife, and I knew it not. Why did you not reveal the truth earlier?”

“Because, like yourself, I was bound to secrecy for three years.”

“But that time limit had gone by when I rescued you from Jerusalem.”

“True,” replied Vashti, the brightness of her face becoming dimmed for a moment by that mournful reminiscence, “but was that a time to be talking love and wedlock? I resolved to keep the secret till the siege should be over.”

“I am not sure that you were right in doing so. The making it known would have saved you from the hands of Berenice. Tell me, how has she used you?”

“Not ill, though she would taunt me at times with your name, and threaten to whip the Christianity out of me.”

“But why did you not set yourself free earlier, by sending me the ring?”

“Because she was always saying that she would give a grand entertainment at which I should serve as a slave while you should look helplessly on; she seemed to take such delight in the notion that I resolved to await the coming of this feast; it would furnish me with an excellent opportunity of asserting my freedom and of giving her a startling surprise.”

“You have certainly succeeded in doing that, my little wife.”

“_Am_ I your wife, Crispus?” said Vashti gravely. “Was not that ceremony at Beth-tamar somewhat heathenish in character?”

“You speak truth, dearest. We must have the blessing of the Church on our union. To-morrow we will set out for Jerusalem, where the good bishop Simeon shall join our hands.”

At this point a centurion made his appearance with a message to the effect that Titus desired the presence of Crispus and his lady.

Responding, though with considerable reluctance, to this summons, the two repaired to the Ivory Hall, where they found Titus seated beside Berenice with Josephus standing near.

“Be seated, noble Crispus and the lady Vashti.”

Titus spoke with genuine affability; as for Berenice her disdainful air showed that the presence or the absence of the pair was a matter alike of indifference to her.

“I have asked Josephus,” began Titus, when the centurion had withdrawn, leaving the five together, “to tell me the meaning of the strange business at Beth-tamar. He is very urgent that you also should be present to hear him. Hence my sending for you.”

With that he nodded to the priest as a sign for him to proceed.

“It may be, sire,” began Josephus, “that what I have to say will give sharp offense to one of my hearers.” Crispus guessed that Berenice was meant. “Therefore, ere I begin, I must receive assurance from you that the utterance shall not bring punishment upon the utterer.”

“Say what thou wilt; abuse me, if it please thee; thy tongue shalt have free license to-night.”

Assured thus, Josephus began.

“I have but lately returned, O Cæsar, from a visit to Pontus, where it was my fortune to meet with Zeno, the secretary of the royal Polemo, and seemingly a man well acquainted with the secrets of the late king. It is partly from this Zeno, and partly from my own knowledge, that I derive the materials for the story I am about to relate.”

At the mention of the names Polemo and Zeno, Berenice, who had hitherto betrayed a languid indifference, began to appear as if keenly interested.

“Many years ago--twenty-three, to give the exact number--the Princess Berenice, then in her twentieth year, married Polemo, king of Pontus, who, after two years, repudiated her, for a reason the princess herself knows.”

Here Josephus ceased speaking, checked by Berenice’s haughty and indignant stare.

“Is it necessary to bring _my_ name into your narration?”

“Absolutely necessary.”

“Then I will tell you the reason of our separation. He did not repudiate me; I left him of my own free will, left him because, prior to our marriage, he, himself a proselyte, promised that he would do all in his power to bring the people of Pontus over to Judaism. He failed to redeem his word, however--nay, he actively thwarted my attempts at proselytism, and so I left him.”

“Was there not a daughter born of this marriage?”

Berenice’s eyes flashed fire.

“I see plainly that your object is to prejudice me in the eyes of Titus by recalling a deed of long ago. What I did then I do not now regret.”

“That is a strange thing to say of infanticide.”

Berenice gave a cold hard laugh that caused Vashti to shiver.

“The exposure of infants is a custom so common among Romans that Titus will scarcely regard it as a great crime.”

“But _our_ law, princess, regards it as murder.”

“And I regard my deed as a justifiable one, for in destroying the body of the infant I saved its soul. Polemo, who had seceded from Judaism, and had grown to hate both me and my religion, swore that he would bring up the child in his own Hellenic faith, and would teach it to hate the religion of its mother. I resolved to save it from such fate, and took the only possible way--I exposed it one winter’s night among the snowy crags of Hermon.”

Vashti gave a faint little gasp--inaudible to Berenice--and her heart almost ceased its beating. Not even when coming home on that dreadful night to find Arad gone forever did she feel more horror than she felt at this moment. To learn that she was the daughter of a woman so unnatural as to expose her own child to death! to learn that it was her own mother who had been pursuing her with a malignant aim! to learn that she was a member of that Herodian house that had never ceased persecuting Christianity from its very beginning! to know that her mother was at that very moment living in open sin with the destroyer of her country!--all this rushed with her blood, nearly causing her to shriek aloud.

Josephus continued his narration.

“The loss of the child--for he had loved it as the apple of his eye--threw Polemo into a fever, which, so it seems to me, crazed his brain, for it left him animated by one passion only--a desire to be revenged upon the woman who had wronged him.”

“Thou liest,” interjected Berenice, “for in due course of time, he and I, as all men can testify, grew to be great friends.”

“You were deceived, princess. He masked his hatred under a smiling guise the more effectually to conceal his purpose. Now, mark the result of your deed! It is true that it was decreed in the councils of the Most High that the city and the temple should perish, but the Most High makes use of human instruments to work out His decrees; and yours, princess, has been the hand that has wrought the ruin of Israel.”

There was in Josephus’ manner something so solemn and convincing, that all Berenice’s hauteur and defiance vanished, leaving her nearly as pale and trembling as the daughter that was as yet unknown to her.

“How mean you?” she faltered.

“It was our common religion, so Polemo erroneously argued, that had destroyed his child; he would therefore destroy our religion.

“Nothing was dearer to you, so you had once said to him, than the holy city, and the holy temple; he resolved to bring destruction both upon that city and upon that temple.

“How could he effect it?

“There was but one way; the Jewish people must be goaded into war, a war in which their capital must sink in flames.

“This is the key to Polemo’s frequent visits to Judæa; to his friendship with successive procurators--Felix, Festus, Albinus. With these, however, he failed to effect his purpose, but at last in Florus he found the tool he wanted. While you, princess, were on one side of that procurator, winning him to acts of clemency, Polemo was on the other, urging him to deeds of blood; all the provocative acts of Florus were due to the secret, the wicked policy of the Pontic king.”

These words caused a deepening of Vashti’s horror. To think that she was the daughter of a king so coldblooded as deliberately to plan the extirpation of a whole nation, and all, so it seemed, on her account!

At this point Titus intervened.

“This secret history is doubtless interesting, but what hath it to do with Beth-tamar?”

“I am coming to it, O Cæsar. It chanced in course of time that the Princess Berenice met my lord Crispus at a banquet at Antioch and became enamored of him.”

Berenice gave a scornful laugh; but the statement was true, and her laugh deceived no one. “Polemo suspected this. Now, he had already in mind selected the son of his friend, Cestius the Legate, to be his successor in the sovereignty of Pontus, and it did not suit his policy that Berenice should marry Crispus, and thus again wear the crown that she had once despised. He therefore resolved to thwart her aim. While thinking how he might best succeed in this matter, he happened to pay a visit to Jerusalem, and there, by a singular turn of destiny, he saw one day in the temple-courts a maiden who immediately arrested his attention from the marvelous resemblance she bore to his mother Pythodoris in her youthful days. Avoiding the maiden herself, he made inquiries of others, and learned that her name was Vashti, and that she was the ward of him who now addresses you. He sought me out with eager questionings, and I was forced to admit that the supposed daughter of Hyrcanus was in reality a foundling, nor were proofs wanting to convince him beyond all doubt that in Vashti he had found his daughter Athenaïs, long supposed by him to be dead.”

A strange sound broke from Berenice; amazement caused her figure to stiffen into a rigid attitude; for a few moments she sat thus, motionless and wordless; then slowly, mechanically, she turned her head and looked at Vashti. And of all the looks that Vashti had ever received none frightened her more than this; it was a look without a trace of maternal love--cold, disdainful, cruel; a look that said, as plainly as words could say, that she would never acknowledge the Nazarene apostate as a daughter of hers.

“Polemo, for reasons of his own, did not make himself known to his daughter. Whether he now had any affection for her whom, as a babe, he had idolized, it is hard to say; one thing became clear to him; he saw in the daughter an instrument for the humiliation of the mother. If he could persuade Crispus to marry Vashti, and to keep the matter hidden from the world, the fond, enamored Berenice would be pursuing Crispus for months in the vain endeavor to win him to her arms, while he--Polemo--could look on in malicious enjoyment, as knowing that her wiles were foredoomed to failure.

“Such was Polemo’s reason for keeping the wedding a secret--a reason unknown to me at the time; I have learned it since from Zeno. Vashti, too, was required to keep the matter hidden, even from her adopted mother, Miriam. Vashti, being my ward, was compelled to take for her husband the man of my choice, and though she long resisted the notion of wedding a heathen Roman, I overcame her scruples at last by persuading her that her intended bridegroom was far more virtuous than many a Jew. She therefore accompanied me by night to Beth-tamar, not knowing that he who presided over these nuptials was her father, not knowing his name even, nor that she had been destined by him to wear the crown of a queen.

“All this was to come upon her later as a delightful surprise.

“My story is all but finished. It was Polemo’s intention to stand beside Berenice either upon Mount Olivet when the temple was burning, or at some palace window in Rome when the triumphal procession was sweeping past, carrying the sacred spoils of the temple--to stand beside her and to tell her in fierce, exultant tones that all this was _his_ work; he would watch her agony; she was to be the victim of his laughter, of his mockery, of his scorn!

“But this supreme and thrilling moment of revenge--this triumph that he had so long worked for, was not to be his; he died ere the day of his vengeance came.

“Cæsar, my tale is said.”

There was a long silence in that chamber after Josephus had finished his narration.

Titus looked at Berenice as if desiring her to say something.

The breast of that princess was the seat of a wild tumult of contending passions, but among them there was neither pity nor love for her newly found daughter.

“It seems,” said she, with a superbly disdainful air, “it seems, if the story of Josephus be true, that I am to be presented with a daughter, but I care not for the gift. I should be a hypocrite were I to feign love where love is not. No; I cast her away in infancy that thereby I might save her soul; by becoming a Nazarene she has chosen to destroy her soul; let her still remain a castaway. Let her keep to her own path as I shall keep to mine. I have no daughter; that is my answer to her.”

Vashti was willing for reconcilement, but this cold repudiation kept her dumb. With divine pity in her eyes, she looked at her mother, and sighed.

Crispus made reply for her.

“Since such is your decision,” said he, “we will not seek to change it. Cæsar, I salute you. Come, Vashti, let us be going.”

As the two arose to depart, Titus walked over to them, as if not willing that Berenice should hear what he had to say.

“My sire, Vespasian, knowing that you have been disappointed in the expectation of the crown of Pontus, has offered you the thing that is most like it--namely, the governorship of that province. Its people will be delighted when they know that the wife of the new governor is the granddaughter of the good queen Pythodoris.”

But Crispus had little desire for the honor; he would be more happy with Vashti in his beautiful villa among the Sabine hills than in presiding over the destinies of the Pontic people. While thinking thus, however, he received from Vashti a wistful glance which seemed to be urging him to accept the post.

“What, Vashti? Ambitious that I should sit in a curule chair?”

“Yes,” whispered she, “for if Crispus be ruler of Pontus there will always be _one_ safe asylum for Christians.”

“You speak wisely, little woman,” replied he; and, turning to Titus, he said, “Cæsar, I accept the post with all thankfulness.”

Berenice watched the two as they quitted the Ivory Hall.

She never saw them again!

After a brief visit to Jerusalem, where bishop Simeon joined the hands of the pair, Crispus, accompanied by his bride, set out for his province of Pontus, there to begin a long administration, whose wisdom and justice were to win golden opinions from all men.

* * * * *

And Berenice?

The Roman senate and the Roman people soon made short work of her dream of an imperial throne! Their anger at the thought of a Jewish empress was so fiercely expressed that Titus, albeit with all reluctance, was compelled to banish her from his presence.[40]

Scorned by the Romans because she came of the Jewish people; scorned by the Jewish people because she had allied herself with a Roman; branded with deserved infamy by the poet Juvenal;[41] eating out her heart over the ignominious ending of her splendid ambition, Berenice passed into a state of obscurity and oblivion, History failing to record the time, the place, or the manner of her death.

NOTES

1 The Talmud.

2 Told by the heathen Plutarch in his _Cessation of Oracles_.

3 Josephus.--_Vita_ 2.

4 Acts xxv. 16.

5 Greek Anthology.--I. 77.

6 Acts xxiii. 14.

7 Flaccus, pro-Consul of Asia, for example.--CICERO. _Pro Flacco._

8 The ancient usage in the Jerusalem synagogues of anathematizing Christ and the Christians is said by some to have originated, not with Simeon, but with his father Gamaliel, a statement scarcely reconcilable with Acts v. 38.

9 A saying of Simeon’s, according to the Talmud.

10 The Talmud.

11 Jos.--_Bell. Jud._ vi. 5, 3. Tac.--_Hist._ v. 13. Luke xxi. 11.

12 Zech. xi. 1 was, according to the Talmud, referred by Johanan ben Zacchai to this mysterious opening of the temple doors.

13 Josephus.--_Bell. Jud._ ii. 15.

14 At this point Florus disappears from history, and therefore from these pages. It is not known what became of him.

15 Acts xxiii. 3.

16 Josephus.--_Bell. Jud._ ii. 17, 9.

17 Josephus.--_Bell. Jud._ v. 9, 4.

18 Josephus.--_Bell. Jud._ ii. 19, 7.

19 So writes Hegesippus, an historian almost contemporary with Bishop Simeon.

20 Josephus actually applies the Messianic prophecies to Vespasian!--_Bell. Jud._ vi. 5, 4.

21 Tacitus.--_Hist._ ii. 78.

22 Tacitus.--_Hist._ iv. 81.

23 _Lucem caliganti reddidit mundo_--“he restored light to a dark world,” was said of Vespasian.--Jortin--_Eccles. Hist._ i. 4.

24 Josephus.--_Bell. Jud._ vi. 5, 3.

25 It is singular that Josephus, who has described the siege in such detail, should have omitted the ceremony of the Evocation, which must have taken place, unless the Romans departed from all precedent.

26 Josephus.--_Bell. Jud._ v. 9, 4.

27 Eusebius.--_Hist. Eccles._ iii. 12.

28 More than £5,000 in English currency.

29 Josephus.--_Bell. Jud._ v. 12.

30 Josephus.--_Bell. Jud._ v. 13, 7.

31 Josephus.--_Bell. Jud._ v. 31, 1.

32 Sulpicius Severus (Chron. xxx. 11), who is believed by competent critics to be quoting from a lost portion of the History of Tacitus.

33 Josephus.--_Bell. Jud._ vi. 4, 3.

34 Dean Milman.--_Hist. of Jews._ Book xvi.

35 The Talmud.

36 Such is the statement of Epiphanius.

37 Such appears to be the belief of Renan.--_Antichrist_, xix.

38 Unfortunately for Crispus’ hopes, Domitian, on his accession, put Flavius Clemens to death. The fate of the two sons is unknown.

39 This history, _De Judæis_, has unfortunately, not come down to us.

40 “Berenicem ab urbe dimisit invitus invitam.”--_Suet. in Tit._ vii.

41 _Satire_ vi. 156.

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE:

Punctuation errors and printing mistakes such as obviously missing letters have been silently fixed.

The following alterations have been made:

In the following passage the two *indicated* words were illegible, transcriber’s best judgment has been applied: