Pearl-Maiden | Page 8

of his.
We say--let him alone."
Thus encouraged the old man spoke on with an eloquence so simple
and yet so touching, with a wisdom so deep, that for full fifteen
minutes none cared even to interrupt him. Then a far-away listener
cried:
"Why must these people die who are better than we?"
"Friend," answered the bishop, in ringing tones, which in that heavy

silence seemed to search out even the recesses of the great and crowded
place, "we must die because it is the will of King Agrippa, to whom
God has given power to destroy us. Mourn not for us because we perish
cruelly, since this is the day of our true birth, but mourn for King
Agrippa, at whose hands our blood will be required, and mourn, mourn
for yourselves, O people. The death that is near to us perchance is
nearer still to some of you; and how will you awaken who perish in
your sins? What if the sword of God should empty yonder throne?
What if the voice of God should call on him who fills it to make answer
of his deeds? Soon or late, O people, it will call on him and you to pass
hence, some naturally in your age, others by the sharp and dreadful
roads of sword, pestilence or famine. Already those woes which He
whom you crucified foretold, knock at your door, and within a few
short years not one of you who crowd this place in thousands will draw
the breath of life. Nothing will remain of you on earth save the fruit of
those deeds which you have done--these and your bones, no more.
Repent you, therefore, repent while there is time; for I, whom you have
doomed, I am bidden to declare that judgment is at hand. Yes, even
now, although you see him not, the Angel of the Lord hangs over you
and writes your names within his book. Now while there is time I
would pray for you and for your king. Farewell."
As he spoke those words "the Angel of the Lord hangs over you," so
great was the preacher's power, and in that weary darkness so sharply
had he touched the imagination of his strange audience, that with a
sound like to the stir of rustling trees, thousands of faces were turned
upwards, as though in search of that dread messenger.
"Look, look!" screamed a hundred voices, while dim arms pointed to
some noiseless thing that floated high above them against the
background of the sky, which grew grey with the coming dawn. It
appeared and disappeared, appeared again, then seemed to pass
downward in the direction of Agrippa's throne, and vanished.
"It is that magician's angel," cried one, and the multitudes groaned.
"Fool," said another, "it was but a bird."

"Then for Agrippa's sake," shrilled a new voice, "the gods send that it
was not an owl."
Thereat some laughed, but the most were silent. They knew the story of
King Agrippa and the owl, and how it had been foretold that this spirit
in the form of a bird would appear to him again in the hour of his death,
as it had appeared to him in the hour of his triumph.[*]
[*] See Josephus, "Antiquities of the Jews," Book XVII., Chap. VI.,
Sec. 7; and Book XIX., Chap. VIII., Sec. 2.
Just then from the palace to the north arose a sound of the blare of
trumpets. Now a herald, speaking on the summit of the great eastern
tower, called out that it was dawn above the mountains, and that King
Agrippa came with all his company, whereon the preaching of the old
Christian and his tale of a watching Vengeance were instantly forgotten.
Presently the glad, fierce notes of the trumpets drew nearer, and in the
grey of the daybreak, through the great bronze gates of the Triumphal
Way that were thrown open to greet him, advanced Agrippa,
wonderfully attired and preceded by his legionaries. At his right walked
Vibius Marsus, the Roman President of Syria, and on his left Antiochus,
King of Commagena, while after him followed other kings, princes,
and great men of his own and foreign lands.
Agrippa mounted his golden throne while the multitude roared a
welcome, and his company were seated around and behind him
according to their degree.
Once more the trumpets sounded, and the gladiators of different arms,
headed by the equites who fought on horseback, numbering in all more
than five hundred men, were formed up in the arena for the preliminary
march past--the salutation of those about to die to their emperor and
lord. Now, that they also might take their part in the spectacle, the band
of Christian martyrs were thrust through the door in the podium, and to