The Silver Chalice

by Thomas B. Costain

  CHAPTER XII

  1

  At noon on the following day Basil was roused from his uneasy musings by an outburst of shouting in the house. It came first from the slave quarters and then spread to other parts, increasing in volume all the time. His first thought was that the men of Rub Samuel had broken in, but on second consideration he discarded this explanation. There was a note to the tumult that had nothing to do with conflict; a triumphant note like the song of warriors returning from victory.

  After it had continued for several minutes without showing any signs of abating, he found himself unable to remain any longer in concealment. Venturing out cautiously, he discovered that the warehouse wing was completely deserted. The shouting now came from the front section of the house. He proceeded in that direction along deserted corridors, becoming aware as he did so of a miracle that had been happening that morning. Into the heat and the haze and the dust of the city had come a breeze. It was not a great wind, it blew lightly and fitfully from the hills of the north; but small though it was, it was like a cool hand placed on a fevered brow. To the people of Jerusalem it would seem a benediction straight from Jehovah. The wide stone halls in the house of Joseph, raised high on their black pillars of basalt, had been opened to receive it. The hangings on the walls and the patterned curtains that masked the heavy doors swayed and billowed at its touch.

  Finally he found himself in the close proximity of the main courtyard, and here a strange spectacle greeted his eye. The slaves were parading about the court and the adjacent halls. They marched three abreast and they were singing loudly, their heads thrown back as they sang, their eyes filled with exultation. Ebenezer was in the lead, capering the steps of the Dance of David, his arms crossed behind his bent back and his fingers twitching in imitation of the orders he received from his master.

  Basil recognized the song they were singing. It was known as the Unchaining.

  “No more of labor in the fields, no swish of whip, no awl-pierced ears;

  No longer need to wait in pain the coming year of Jubilee;

  No weeping for the wife long lost, the children wrested from one’s arms;

  We are free, O Lord above us, we are free!”

  Basil had been told that this was the oldest of all chants, that it had been sung for the first time when the children of Israel crossed the sands of the Red Sea. Having heard the story of the Crossing from Deborra, he realized that the Unchaining could not have been sung at that early day. The Israelites had been held in Egypt in a state of perpetual slavery, and it had not been necessary then, as it was now, for a life slave to have awl-pierced ears; nor had the year of Jubilee been conceived, the recurring seventh year when all slaves of Jewish birth received their freedom. Ancient the song was, however, and Basil found himself humming in concert as he watched the marchers. He could appreciate how they felt.

  “This is what Deborra promised them that day,” he said to himself. “Joseph has freed his slaves!”

  He became aware then of the face of Aaron staring down into the court from an upper window. It did not require more than one glance at the bleak and antagonistic expression of the latter to realize that the son of the house was bitterly opposed to the step his father had taken.

  Among the spectators was Adam ben Asher. He stood beside Luke and seemed almost as much out of sympathy with the spectacle as Aaron himself. He glowered at the antics of Ebenezer and said in an impatient mutter: “And now what will they do? Will they expect to find work in a city where half the people starve for bread? Soon they will come back, begging for their chains, offering their ears to the piercing of the awl.”

  And then something occurred that seemed to Basil a second miracle. Deborra appeared in the front entrance, which had been opened to catch the vagrant breeze. She was accompanied by a train of dusty, weary servants. Some had arms filled with bundles of clothing. One, a brawny black boy with a good-natured face under a red turban, was carrying the kinnor of his young mistress, an instrument of many strings made of beautifully carved algum wood. Another held over her head a cover made of woven reeds as a protection against the fierce assault of the midday sun. Hovering on the edge of the group were an intent pair who, clearly, were there on Rub Samuel’s orders.

  Over a white linen tunic Deborra was wearing an outer garment of yellow silk with black embroidered bands. Her turban, puffed out on both sides to provide protection against the heat, was of a somewhat deeper shade of yellow with a rich tinge of the orange. The effect was completely becoming and, in spite of the weariness of the long journey that manifested itself in shadows about her eyes, she suggested the freshness of a daffodil. There was no consciousness of this in her manner. She was looking about her with the most intense anxiety. When her eyes rested on Luke and Adam advancing to greet her she questioned them in a whisper of passionate supplication.

  “Am I in time? Is my grandfather still alive?”

  Luke answered with a grave nod. “He is alive. But you must be reconciled to this: that he has clung to existence only in the hope of seeing you again and that now his hold is weak. We must be honest with you, my child. It is—a matter of hours.”

  “Let me go to him at once.”

  Basil watched her as she followed Luke down the hall toward the room where Joseph had elected to spend his last days. She looked neither to right nor left, and it was clear that she had one thought only in her mind. He followed at a safe distance when she had passed and saw her pause at the door to ask, “Why is he here?”

  “It was his wish.”

  It became apparent then that the clarity of mind that Joseph had exacted of himself had now deserted him. Through the open door they could hear him talking in a feverish monotone. He had slipped away from the safe moorings of the present and had reached the choppy waters of the past. “ ‘Behold, Lord, the half of my goods I give to the poor.’ Even as I, Zaccheus, even as I; though truly not to the extent of half, for I have been wise in trade and much profit have I made. Generously have I given of what I earned, even though I followed afar off. Did I err in not coming to the fire and sitting myself down there as Peter, Peter of the high heart, did?” The voice fell off into more incoherence at this, and they could hear him muttering of Peter and John and Paul and Andrew. He kept coming back to the thought that seemed to weigh on his mind, the part he had played in the great drama. “It was not fear. I did not hold back because of that. Is it not known to all men that I went to Pontius Pilate and asked of him the body of Jesus? What hands were they that touched the holes in His feet and the great wound in His side? Mine, for I took the body down from the cross. It was in my sepulcher that the body lay. It was from my sepulcher, which was hewn in stone, that Jesus came forth. It was stone of mine that was rolled away, and it was there that the two men in shining garments stood. It was not vouchsafed me to see Him, but truly I wrought so that what He had prophesied might come to pass.”

  “Grandfather!” said Deborra.

  The sick voice stopped. There was a moment of silence and then Joseph said: “Deborra! It is you! You have come back.”

  “Yes, Grandfather.”

  “I thank thee, O Lord, for granting me this wish of my heart. Now I am happy and at peace. I knew you would come, my child, if I—if I did not give in. It has been hard. I had to be firm with this angel who sits beside me and keeps saying that I have been expected long since. But now you are here, my Deborra, and I may say to the angel, ‘Have your way at last. Lead on, I am ready.’ ”

  2

  Adam ben Asher dropped a hand on the shoulder of Benjie the Asker, who had been a witness to Deborra’s return. “You will come with me,” he said.

  He led the way to a small room not far from the Court of the Packers that served him as a personal office. It was filled with a curious collection of articles. In addition to many dusty rolls on which trade records were kept, there were maps of the camel trails and the routes of sea navigation, enough of them to fill all the wall space. The floor was so litter
ed with camel equipment that it was hard for Benjie to find standing room.

  “I heard today,” said Adam, “that someone had been selling information to Ananias, and then I remembered passing the house of the High Priest and seeing one of our men come out. This happened a few days ago, and I thought at the time it was strange. Now I think it highly suspicious. Who was it I saw, Benjie the Asker? It was you.”

  “I was there,” declared Benjie easily. “I was making a call on some of the servants of Ananias. In quest of information.”

  He was wearing a shirt of black linen and over this a rust-colored garment. Adam made a sudden pounce at him and raised the shirt from around his waist. This revealed a hairy expanse of body and a wide belt to which a flat leather purse was attached. Despite squeals of protest from its owner, Adam opened the purse and found it well stuffed with coins.

  “Gold!” he cried. “It is as I thought. The gold of Ananias the High Priest. Heu-heu! Benjie the Asker has become Benjie the Babbler, Benjie the Teller, Benjie the Two-faced!” He thumped with both fists on the puny shoulders of the Asker. “This is the traitor. This is the base-born one who sells everything he knows to the man in the Temple! You have received much more than thirty pieces of silver, thou betrayer of friends, thou seller of secrets not thy own.”

  Benjie tried to wriggle free of the hold on his shoulders. “I have taken pay in both hands instead of one,” he acknowledged sulkily. “Can a poor man earn enough with one hand in Jerusalem to feed a large family? Joseph has paid me in one, Ananias in the other. Is it a crime?”

  Adam proceeded to manhandle the unrepentant seller of information. He slapped him on each cheek, he poked knuckles into his eyes, he beat him vigorously on the chest with a sound like the strident rat-tat of the tof, the frame drum of the Jews. Then he took him by both shoulders and shook him until the knees of the miscreant went limp and his teeth chattered.

  “Is it a crime?” cried Adam. “It is the worst of crimes. You, the jackal with twenty pairs of ears and a hundred eyes, told the High Priest that it was Deborra who threw the stone at the Roman——”

  “No, no!” exclaimed Benjie. “I told him nothing about the little lady of the house. I could never do anything to hurt her. That I swear to you by the feet of all the prophets, by the ashes of the Red Heifer!”

  Adam’s grip on his shoulders loosened a trifle. “If I could believe that, I might be persuaded to spare your life. But I declare to you now that I shall squeeze your throat until your face turns black and your breath stops if any harm comes to her.”

  “Adam, have pity on me!” cried Benjie. “I cannot resist the feel of gold on the palms of my hands. It has such a sweet touch. I have broken faith because of it. I have sold my friends. I shall never see the face of my Master. Adam, Adam, I cannot sleep at night through thinking of it!”

  Adam looked at him with a hint of understanding in his flat gray eyes. “There can be no excuse for what you have done, but I can feel sorry for you, O Benjamin who deserves to wear a coat of one color only, the deep scarlet of shame.” As he spoke he continued to administer sharp physical attentions, a vigorous rumpling of the hair, a kneading of knuckles in the hollow of the neck, a succession of slaps with the flat of the hand. “Yes, I feel a great deal of compassion for you.” The ribs of his victim resounded to the tattoo he proceeded to play on them.

  Benjie cried breathlessly: “I do not wish to die because of your pity.”

  “I must have from you,” declared Adam, “a full record of the information you have sold to Ananias. If you will do this, and so make it possible for us to protect ourselves, I shall spare you the full punishment I had intended for you. Are you prepared to tell me everything?”

  “Yes!” affirmed the Asker eagerly. “I am ready to tell you every piece of news I took to that man in the Temple with the big belly and the frog eyes.” He cringed away from the great callused hands of the caravan leader. “I will do more than that. I will tell you something that you should know at once if you are to avert a great calamity.”

  “Heu-heu!” exclaimed Adam. “Now we have cracked the shell and come to the rich kernel of the nut.”

  “The instant my old master dies,” said Benjie, dropping his voice, “Aaron will give a signal from the window of his room and the men of the Mar will break into the house. They will let no one leave until they have found the Cup! Aaron did not agree to this at first. He made other promises, but Ananias was not satisfied, so Aaron has given in and they will have a free hand.”

  Adam gave him a final shake and let him go. He said, walking to the door with such vigorous strides that he scattered the accumulations of equipment that stood in his way, “You may have redeemed yourself for the harm you did before.”

  “And now,” said Benjie, “there is another matter of which I shall tell you, the matter of an inheritance——”

  3

  An hour passed after Deborra entered her grandfather’s room and closed the door behind her. Adam ben Asher, having made certain necessary arrangements, paced about the hall, keeping his eyes fixed on the heavy oak barrier behind which his old master was spending his last moments. Luke went to the sanctuary and there found Basil hard at work on the design of the frame for the Chalice. The excitements of the morning had proven a stimulus, and he was making progress by the flickering light of the lamp.

  The physician proceeded to tell him of the situation that had developed as a result of the funds held by the Antioch banker. “Aaron will sail for Antioch to claim the money as soon as his father’s body has been laid in the sepulcher,” he said. “Adam is to take Deborra by land. It will be a race, a camel train against the sails of the ship. The camels they will use belong to Adam. Knowing that Aaron will not keep him a single hour after Joseph’s death, he has been secretly buying them for the house he will set up in opposition. I am told he has acquired the strongest and fastest camels in the whole world. In spite of his bark, which I allow is sharp and loud, Adam has a great heart. He is prepared to drive this fine fleet to the utmost in the race.”

  Basil had suspended work to listen. He asked now when Adam would start.

  “Within an hour of Joseph’s death. So much depends on getting to Antioch first that Deborra will not stay for the burial. It will almost break her heart not to follow her grandfather to the grave, but she understands the urgency and she is ready. You, my son,” went on Luke after a moment, “will not be left to the mercies of the dagger men. You are to leave the house with the camel train.”

  “But how will I get by the guards around the house?”

  “There is a plan. I cannot explain it now.”

  Basil motioned to the clay model on which he was working. “Am I to go on with this?”

  “Of course. Joseph has spoken to me several times of his confidence in you and his desire to have you finish the Chalice. He has been so concerned about it that he has kept a bag of gold under his pillow for the purpose. Deborra will bring it with her.”

  Basil laid his work aside and threw a damp cloth over it. “And what of you?” he asked. “Do you go with us? The thought of separation from you is one I cannot abide. You have been to me everything my father was before he died. Nay, you have been much more, for you have given me spiritual guidance. I feel the future will be blank without you—without your kindness, your help and encouragement.”

  The celebration of the slaves had ended with the arrival of Deborra, but for a time thereafter sounds of activity had been noticeable about the house. Now a complete silence reigned over the great establishment, a silence filled with the intensity of grief. His people waited in sorrow for the word that Joseph of Arimathea had come to the end of his long days. There was consciousness of this in the low tone of voice Luke employed in answering.

  “What you have said makes me very happy, my son. I am going with you. Paul is to be sent to Caesarea to be tried before Felix. My place is by his side, but it will be a long time before he is led out from his cell for the hearing. A year at
least, we are told.”

  “What is to be done about the Cup?” asked Basil anxiously.

  “It has been put in my charge and I shall make it my only care until we have taken it to a place where no hostile hands may touch it.” Luke continued to speak with sudden emphasis. “Paul is the voice of Christianity. He is carrying the teachings of Jesus to the whole world. He has always had his own group of helpers about him, but he could have done it all himself. We who have followed the trails of conversion with him have always known that he did not need us—Matthew or Mark or Luke, or any of the others. He can stand alone, that man of iron and fire. I, Luke, of my own free choice, shall stand beside him when his moment of trial comes. I earnestly hope to share in whatever his fate may be. But first there is the Cup to be taken care of, this one great reminder that Jesus came to us in the guise of a man, this sublime relic that someday may be so important to the faith. If we can get it out of this house, and out of Jerusalem, I shall go on with it to Antioch, where it may be kept in full safety.”

  Luke then nodded his head at Basil and smiled warmly. “You have been behaving with discretion and courage. You saved Deborra from the consequences of her rashness, and since then you have been enduring great hardships without complaint. The one slip you made can easily be forgiven in the light of what you have done. I am not acquiring in my old age the prophetic vision, but this I do perceive—that your prospects are pleasant and bright. There is something back of what I am saying; something that I have no right to divulge.”

  Basil looked at his hands, which were black and callused from the work he had been doing. “If I am to go with them, I must prepare myself. Would it be safe for me to go now to the washroom? I have fallen into the habit of waiting until after midnight, when no one could see me.” He shook his head in despair. “Living in this dark hole has made it impossible to keep myself clean. Could I have something better than the rough soap in the slave quarters? It makes little impression on my skin.”