An Easter Disciple | Page 2

among the musty folios, reciting the saintly character

and the triumphs of those who lived when Christianity was new. This
record shows the worth of consecrated life and service in the days when
the luxurious Roman state most needed a Christian citizenship. But the
lesson is none the less for these last days, when the hope of the world is
in the creed of Quintus.
* * * * *
By the side of Quintus is his fellow soldier Aulus. They had spent their
boyhood together among the scenes of Rome; now they are
companions still, on this last Roman expedition to the district of Judaea.
While the common soldiery are throwing their dice in the camp
thoroughfare, these are speaking of more serious things. The picture on
which they look from lofty Scopus includes the shining roofs of
Jerusalem, the wooded Mount of Olives, and the far landscape to the
south and west; its undulations and brilliant colorings no Roman artist
might put upon the canvas.
With the autumn haze covering the extended panorama, Quintus says
first to his comrade:
"What the fates have in store for me, here in the city of Hierosolyma, I
am much wondering. The day before our trireme sailed from
Brundisium for Tyrus I made a visit to the augur's tent. His prediction
was that my journey hither would be followed by strange consequences.
The flight of the birds through the air did not reveal to him just what
was to occur; but that something eventful was to take place he was very
sure. What is to be my fortune?"
"Your lot it may be," answers Aulus, "to perform some daring deed,
here in our Jewish campaign; and on your return to Rome you may
receive a great reward from the hand of Tiberius."
"In my mind this has been," replies Quintus; "before I left Rome I had
an audience with our divine Caesar, and he was pleased to say that my
fidelity here might bring me special recompense. Yet would that be
satisfying? I have seen the triumphal processions in the streets of Rome,
when heroes have been acclaimed; I have heard our statesmen in the
Senate hall, and prize the joys of oratory; I have been served all my
days by slaves in my father's palace, and know the sweetness of the
Falernian wine in the banquet room. A proconsulate, if I might come to
that dignity, would be a high honor to write in my life story. But, my
dear Aulus, would there be content in this? My restless soul seems

crying out for some better gift from the gods."
"It cannot be," continues Aulus. "that your heart's love is involved.
When our military movements bring the Roman knights to Palaestina,
in their pride of birth they do not wed the black-eyed daughters of the
Jews. On your earlier expedition to Egypt you met a princess of the
land, but were not let to espouse that swarthy maiden of the Nile. The
reward of love cannot be the experience of which the augur spoke at
Brundisium."
"Not so," says Quintus in response; "as I was leaving Rome, it was the
beautiful Lucretia who sent me forth with her rare farewell. For my
return from Palaestina she is now waiting; and under the blue skies of
Italia we are to wed. I have been wondering," Quintus adds further, "if
the augur, watching the flight of birds there at Brundisium. could mean
that I am to fall by death, here in Palaestina. We have not come for
battle, but to guard the peace. Yet it is easy for Atropos, that cruel fate,
to clip the slender thread of life and send men on to die land of shades.
If this was what the augur meant, no Roman in the days of Tiberius has
ever set forth upon a more serious adventure."
"You are given to melancholy, this autumn afternoon, my comrade
Quintus," the other says; "you are feeling that sadness which comes to
men when the Dryads move over the earth and touch the leaves into
crimson and gold and brown."
"Not so," answers Quintus; "but I am remembering that I have come
into a land where a strange Teacher is speaking to men of a future life.
Yet are men to live again? I have seen the marble tombs on the Appia
Via where the Scipios, the Metelli, and so many more of our great
Romans lie asleep. Shall I soon follow them? Is it an endless slumber?
What is it that the new Rabbi from Nazareth means, when in the city
yonder he speaks of another life?"
"A fig for your weird autumn fancy," responds Aulus; "down to the
streets of Hierosolyma we will go, and among their novel sights we
will forget