The City of Delight | Page 3

up with prophecy!
And they who speak thus confidently say that He prophesied the end of
the Holy City, and that this is not the Advent, but doom!"
"It is the Nazarene apostasy," he exclaimed in alarm, "alive though the

power of Rome and the diligence of the Sanhedrim have striven to
destroy it these forty years! Now the poison hath entered mine own
house!"
A servant bowed within earshot. Costobarus turned to him hastily.
"Philip of Tyre," the attendant announced.
"Let him enter," Costobarus said. "Go, Hannah; make Laodice
ready--preparations are almost complete; be not her obstacle."
"But--but," she insisted with whitening lips, "I have not said that I
believe all this. I only urge that, in view of this time of war, of
contending prophecies and of all known peril, that we should keep her,
who is our one ewe lamb, our tender flower, our Rose of Sharon, yet
within shelter until the signs are manifest and the purpose of the Lord
God is made clear."
He turned to her slowly. There was pain on his face, suffering that she
knew her words had evoked and, more than that, a yearning to relent.
She was ashamed and not hopeful, but her mother-love was stronger
than her wifely pity.
"Must I command you, Hannah?" he asked.
Her figure, drawn up with the intensity of her wishfulness, relaxed. Her
head drooped and slowly she turned away. Costobarus looked after her
and struggled with rising emotion. But the curtain dropped behind her
and left him alone.
A moment later the curtains over the arch parted and a middle-aged
Jew, richly habited, stood there. He raised his hand for the blessing of
the threshold, then embraced Costobarus with more warmth than
ceremony.
"What is this I hear?" he demanded with affectionate concern. "Thou
leavest Ascalon for the peril of Jerusalem?"

"Can Jerusalem be more perilous than Ascalon this hour?" Costobarus
asked.
"Yes, by our fathers!" Philip declared. "Nothing can be so bad as the
condition of the Holy City. But what has happened? Three days ago
thou wast as securely settled here as a barnacle on a shore-rock! To-day
thou sendest me word: 'Lo! the time long expected hath come; I go
hence to Jerusalem.' What is it, my brother?"
"Sit and listen."
Philip looked about him. The divan was there, stripped of its covering
of fine rugs, but the room otherwise was without furniture. Prepared for
surprise, the Tyrian let no sign of his curiosity escape him, and, sitting,
leaned on his knees and waited.
"Philadelphus Maccabaeus hath sent to me, bidding me send Laodice to
him--in Jerusalem," Costobarus said in a low voice.
Philip's eyes widened with sudden comprehension.
"He hath returned!" he exclaimed in a whisper.
For a time there was silence between the two old men, while they gazed
at each other. Then Philip's manner became intensely confident.
"I see!" he exclaimed again, in the same whisper. "The throne is empty!
He means to possess it, now that Agrippa hath abandoned it!"
Costobarus pressed his lips together and bowed his head emphatically.
Again there was silence.
"Think of it!" Philip exclaimed presently.
"I have done nothing else since his messenger arrived at daybreak.
Little, little, did I think when I married Laodice to him, fourteen years
ago, that the lad of ten and the little child of four might one day be king
and queen over Judea!"

Philip shook his head slowly and his gaze settled to the pavement.
Presently he drew in a long breath.
"He is twenty-four," he began thoughtfully. "He has all the learning of
the pagans, both of letters and of war; he--Ah! But is he capable?"
"He is the great-grandson of Judas Maccabaeus! That is enough! I have
not seen him since the day he wedded Laodice and left her to go to
Ephesus, but no man can change the blood of his fathers in him. And
Philip--he shall have no excuse to fail. He shall be moneyed; he shall
be moneyed!"
Costobarus leaned toward his friend and with a sweep of his hand
indicated the stripped room. It was a noble chamber. The stamp of the
elegant simplicity of Cyrus, the Persian, was upon it. The ancient blue
and white mosaics that had been laid by the Parsee builder and the
fretwork and twisted pillars were there, but the silky carpets, the
censers and the chairs of fine woods were gone. Costobarus looked
steadily at the perplexed countenance of Philip.
"Seest thou how much I believe in this youth?" he asked.
A shade of uneasiness crossed Philip's forehead.
"Thou art no longer young, Costobarus," he said, "and disappointments
go hard with us, at our age--especially, especially."
"I shall not be disappointed," Costobarus declared.
The friendly Jew looked doubtful.
"The nation is in a sad state,"