CHAPTER VII
THE BONDMAN OF HATE
In a city like Ptolemais, where many pagans lived extravagantly and many Jews lived thriftily, there were, as naturally follows, many money-lenders among the sons of Abraham.
"Seek them all," was Agrippa"s charge, "but Peter, the usurer. Him, thou hadst better avoid."
The young Essene laid aside the prince"s dress, with its embroidery of precious metal, and, getting into a simpler garment affected by the stewards to men of rank, went out into the city to borrow twenty thousand drachmae.
He did not get the twenty thousand drachmae, but he found, instead, that Herod Agrippa was the most notorious bankrupt in the world. Being a Jew and by heritage thrifty, the discovery shook him in his respect for the prince, but at the same time a resolution shaped itself in him against the usurers. But, on a certain day, he returned to the little house in the suburbs of the city to report that he had been placidly refused by every money-lending Jew or Gentile, except Peter, in the seaport.
But he delivered his tidings unmoved.
"Be of hope," he said to Cypros, whose head drooped at the news; "there are many untried ways."
He went again into the city, and visited the khans. There might be new-comers who were money-lenders in other cities.
There were such as guests in Ptolemais, but from their lips he learned that Agrippa was black-listed from the Adriatic to the Euphrates; but Marsyas did not return to the house in the suburbs that night. The weight of his obligation was too heavy to endure the added burden which the sight of Agrippa"s suspense had become.
He went to the rabbis of Ptolemais; they told him that they were not money-lenders. He applied to the prefect of the city, who laughed at him. Hoping that the name of Agrippa as a bankrupt had not penetrated into the fields he journeyed into the country-side of Syria and tried an oil-merchant, a rustic, rich and unlettered. But the oil-merchant came up to Ptolemais and made inquiry, shrugged his shoulders, glowered at Marsyas and went back to his groves.
An Egyptian seller of purple landed at Ptolemais from Alexandria. The name of the city of hope attracted Marsyas and he met the merchant at the wharves. But the seller of purple had been to Rome and the topmost name on his list of debtors was Herod Agrippa.
At the end of three days, Marsyas returned to the house in the suburbs to a.s.sure the prince that he had not deserted and went again on his search.
His invariable failures began to teach him a certain shrewdness. He discovered early that Essenic frankness would not serve his ends. He found that men were approachable through certain channels; that it was better to speak advisedly than frankly; to lay plans, rather than to wait on events; to use devices rather than persuasion. These things admitted, he discovered that he had unconsciously subordinated them to his use. Though momentarily alarmed, he did not hate himself as he should. On the other hand, it was pleasurable to lay siege to men and try them at their own scheming.
At night in a dutiful effort to cleanse himself of the day"s acc.u.mulation of worldliness, he went to the open proseuchae, where in the dark of the great out-of-doors, he was least likely to be noticed, to comfort himself with stolen worship, stolen profit from the Law.
But the Law was not tender to those who lived as Stephen lived, and died as Stephen died. Not in all that great and holy scroll which the Reader read was there compa.s.sion for the blasphemer. Also, he heard of the great plague of persecution which Saul had loosed upon the Nazarenes in Jerusalem and how the Pharisee had become a mighty man before the Council, and an awe and a terror to the congregation. So he came away from the proseuchae, not only unhelped but harmed, embittered, enraged, alienated from his faith, and hungering for vengeance.
By day, he walked through the commercial districts of Ptolemais and pushed his almost hopeless search with an energy that did not flag at continued failure. He knew that if he obtained the twenty thousand drachmae, he bound Agrippa the surer to his oath of allegiance to the cause against Saul. Despair, therefore, was a banished and forbidden thing.
His plans, however, had been tried and proved fruitless. Typically a soldier of fortune, he was relying upon the exigencies of chance.
Ptolemais was a normal town, with large interest and pleasures, and the fair day was too fleeting for one to stop and take heed of another.
Pa.s.sers pushed and hurried him when he came upon those more busy than he. Sailors, bronzed as Tatars, were probably the sole loiterers besides the inevitable oriental feature, the sidewalk mendicant.
So it was that on a certain day when Marsyas overtook a lectica in the street, the old man within complained aloud and had no audience, except his plodding bearers, or the attention of a glance, or a slackened step now and again among the citizens.
"They rob me!" he was crying when Marsyas came up with him.
The young man turned quickly; the declaration was alarming. His eyes encountered the face of Peter, the usurer, a stout, gray old Jew, in the apparel of a Sadducee.
Seeing that he had won the young man"s notice the old usurer seized the opportunity to enlarge.
"They ruin me!" he cried.
Marsyas bowed gravely. "Thy pardon, sir," he said. "May I be of service?"
"They sap my life!" the old man continued more violently, as if the young man"s question had excited him. "They take, and demand more; they waste, and must be replenished! I drop into the grave and there will be nothing left to buy a tomb to receive me!"
The words were directed to Marsyas, and the young man having halted could not go on without awkwardness.
"I pray thee," he urged, "tell me who plagues thee thus."
"The tradesmen! Because I am wealthy, they augment their hire; because I must buy, they increase their price; they hold necessities out of my reach! It is a conspiracy between them because I am of lowly birth, and I go from one to another and find no relief! Behold!" He shook out a shawl which had been folded across his knees. "I must have it to protect me against the cold. It is inferior; it is scant; yet it cost me fifteen pieces of silver!"
Marsyas glanced at the mantle; even with his little knowledge of fabrics it appeared not worth its price.
"Thou hast servants, good sir, and camels," he said, drawn into suggestion in spite of himself. "Do I overstep my privilege to suggest that thou mayest send to Anthedon or to Caesarea and buy in other cities?"
"But the hire--the hire! And how should I know that the knavery does not extend to Anthedon and Caesarea?"
"Then," said Marsyas, "establish thine own booths here and undersell the robbers."
There was silence; the small eyes of the old man narrowed and ignited.
"A just punishment," he muttered. "A proper punishment!"
"Or this," Marsyas continued, interested in his own conspiracy. "Thou sayest they oppress thee because thou art a lowly man! They are foolish. Display them thy power and punish them. Thou art a great usurer; powerful families here are in thy debt. How strong a hand thou holdest over them! What canst thou not compel them to do! Nay, good sir; to me, it seemeth thou hast the whip-hand over these tradesmen!"
The old man rubbed his hands. "An engaging picture," he said. "But unless I haste, they will ruin me yet!"
Marsyas shook his head. "Not if the tales of thy famous wealth be true."
The lectica had moved along beside him and he waited now to be dismissed; but, contrary to custom of that rank which is privileged to command, the old man waited for Marsyas to take his leave.
"Methinks," he began, "I have seen thee--"
"Doubtless," Marsyas interrupted hastily. "I am a steward here in Ptolemais. But I have an errand here, good sir; by thy leave, I shall depart."
The old man made a motion of a.s.sent, but he followed the young Essene with a thoughtful eye.
"If I am to know the world"s way," Marsyas said to himself, "I can use it, if need be."
He did not visit another usurer, but on the following day went to those places likely to be the haunts of Peter. When, presently, he discovered the old man near a fountain, Marsyas did not attempt to catch his eye. But one of Peter"s servants touched him on the arm and told him that the master beckoned, and he hastened to the old man"s side.
"Who is thy master?" Peter asked.
Marsyas winced, but restrained a declaration of his free-born state.
"A Roman citizen who is preparing to return to Italy."
"A Roman!" Peter repeated. "But thou art a Jew, or the blood of the race in thee lies."
"A Jew without taint of other blood in all the line."