The Silver Chalice. Thomas B. Costain

The Silver Chalice - Thomas B. Costain


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      “I shall have it arranged for him to have a good seat.”

      “And now,” went on Paul briskly, “he will find Matthew and Mark in Antioch. John is at Ephesus, and he above all must be seen. John is so different from the rest that no description would convey any idea of him. The hand of Jehovah has touched him, and he is filled with visions of the strange things which will come to pass. He must be visited at once. Peter, that sweet and violent man, is in Rome. I fear that the hands of the executioner hover above him, for Peter speaks out as though he deliberately courts martyrdom. It will be wise for this young man to go to Rome as soon as possible—if he is to find that lion-like head still carried on mortal shoulders.”

      “I am willing to go,” declared Basil. His heart was thumping with excitement, and to himself he was saying, “How willing I am to go! I would start for Rome within the hour.”

      Paul’s manner changed, completely and abruptly. For several moments he had nothing to say. His fingers toyed with the tephillah attached to his brow and the leather strap which bound it to the back of his head. In a musing voice he quoted a phrase from the texts on the parchment inside the leather case, “ ‘And it shall be for a token upon thine hand. . .’

      “It is not only in the case of Peter that there is need for haste,” he said finally. “The end draws on for me. At each place where I stopped on my way here I bade my friends farewell, knowing I would see none of them again. Soon now the wings will brush my shoulder. Agabus knew it at once. He came to see me when I was with Philip at Caesarea and he called for my girdle. When I took it off and gave it to him, he bound his own hands and feet with it and said, ‘So shall the Jews at Jerusalem bind the man that owneth this girdle, and shall deliver him into the hands of the Gentiles.’ He meant I would be delivered to the Romans.” Paul sighed wearily, as though the road which would end in this way had been a long and hard one. “It will be here in Jerusalem that the Jews will bind me and hand me to the Romans. There are few days of freedom left me; and so, if I am to appear on the Chalice, I must be done first of all.” His eyes had lost their fire and seemed still and cold. “Let your fingers be diligent, then, for this may be your last chance.”

      4

      At the eastern end of the house, on the level of the second floor, there was a stone balcony. For an hour before the evening meal a quiet group, Luke and Deborra and Basil, occupied this pleasant space where the reed screens kept out the insects but did not exclude the breezes. The air was thinning and there was a faint hint of coolness.

      The street below was thronged with people, a noisy crowd which had assembled when the word spread throughout the turbulent city that Paul was in the house of Joseph of Arimathea. Despite the hostile demonstrations of the people below, the quiet trio could hear the voice of the apostle addressing the servants of the household in the service court. A few of the staff only were listening to him. Ebenezer, the servant of Aaron, obeying one of the cryptic messages from the snapping fingers of his master, had seen to it that the bulk of them were summoned away for work in the warehouse.

      At about the same moment that the shofarim sounded clearly but thinly from the Temple there was a diversion below. The angry watchers began to disappear, with much waving of arms and vituperative shouting. In the space of a few minutes the Street below became cleared.

      Luke, who had put his head out under the reed screens to watch the exodus, turned back and smiled at his companions.

      “A ruse of Adam ben Asher’s,” he explained. “He was to appear at the warehouse entrance with several horsemen and take away one of the staff with a cowl over his head. As you see, it has been successful. The word must have spread rapidly that an effort was being made to get Paul away. They have all gone to the other side.”

      “Will there be much trouble?” asked Deborra anxiously.

      Luke did not think so. A few minutes only were needed for Paul to make his escape, and then Adam would let it be seen that he did not have the apostle in his train. In any case, Adam would know what to do if there was a violent demonstration.

      The sound of Paul’s passionate exhortation in the service court ceased and in a few moments two figures emerged suddenly from the main door of the house and flitted across the street.

      “There he goes, and he has Benjie with him,” said Deborra, who had hurried to the parapet with Basil. Their elbows touched as they leaned on the stone ledge to watch the two fugitive figures, but neither drew away. “Paul is safe now,” continued the girl, “because Benjie knows every twist and corner in the city.”

      The pair below vanished from sight quickly, Benjie the Asker leading the way down into the Valley of the Cheesemakers. Deborra looked up into Basil’s face in the dimming light and smiled her delight at the success of the ruse. “Adam has managed it well,” she said.

      Basil made no comment as they returned to their seats. It was in his mind that he would like to slip away from Jerusalem as easily and quickly as this. Nothing would please him more than to be off that night on the road to Rome. He wondered what the Imperial City would be like and where he would find the man whose aid was so vital to his future prospects.

      “Basil!” He brought his vagrant thoughts back to more immediate concerns and realized that Joseph’s granddaughter was watching him with a hint of entreaty in her eyes.

      “Basil, I am happy they were all so satisfied with what you have done,” she said. “And you know I am proud that you have been chosen to make the Chalice. No one in the world could do it as well as you.” She was watching him with an air of unusual gravity, a pucker of worry on her white brow. “But—but there is something I must say. I have to tell you that I am disturbed.”

      “I am well aware of the difficulties,” answered Basil.

      “I am wondering what you will do when it comes to making the face of Christ. It will be the hardest test. Basil, have you any conception of how He looked?”

      The young artist shook his head. “I will have to depend on what I am told. Can you help me?”

      “My grandfather has told me about Him a hundred times,” said Deborra eagerly. “Oh, if I could only help you to see Him as I do. He was not at all like other men. He was dark, very dark, but He did not wear His hair long as most people think. It did not touch his shoulders when He rode into Jerusalem for the last time. His brow was very wide and so His eyes were widely spaced. His nose was straight and not long. His mouth was sensitive and kind, but there was no trace of weakness in it. No, no, it was strong and firm! He had no beard, although most people think that he had.”

      Luke had been listening with the closest attention, his eyes turning from one to the other. Now he spoke. “That is how I have heard Him described.”

      “His eyes were wonderful!” cried Deborra. “I have always been able to see them in my mind. So gentle and compassionate, so very, very wise!”

      “I am beginning to have a clear picture,” said Basil, nodding his head to them. “I think I can see the brow, the nose, the mouth. But not the eyes. They elude me.”

      “Basil!” cried Deborra with so much earnestness that she reached out and touched both of his hands. “You will never see His eyes. Never, unless you can clear your mind of everything save the desire to see them. You must love Him as we do. When you have that love, He will come out of the darkness and you will see Him as though He stood before you.”

      There was a long moment of silence, and then Luke began to speak. “Although I have said nothing about it, my son, I have not been blind to the state of your mind. It is natural for you to hold resentment over the way you were cheated. I cannot say you have been wrong in letting yourself dwell on your misfortunes, even though it has been warping your mind and excluding healthier thoughts.”

      “Would you have me do nothing?” demanded Basil. He was keeping his eyes averted. “Until I have repaid Linus in coin of his own minting, I can have no peace of mind.”

      “There


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