THE ROBE (65 page)

'Did he say that?' queried Marcipor.

'Well, something like that.'

'Sounds rather rough to me, coming from so gentle a person.'

Demetrius slipped his hand affectionately through the older Corinthian's
arm.

'Marcipor, let us not make the mistake of thinking that, because this
message of Jesus concerns peace and good will, it is a soft and timid thing
that will wait on every man's convenience, and scurry off the road, to hide in
the bushes, until all other things go by! The people who carry this torch are
going to get into plenty of trouble. They are already being whipped and
imprisoned! Many have been slain!'

'I know, I know,' murmured Marcipor. 'One of the traders from Antioch
told me of seeing a young Greek stoned to death by a mob in Jerusalem.
Stephanos was his name. Did you, by any chance, know him?'

'Stephanos,' said Demetrius, sadly, 'was my closest friend.'

Marcellus had not finished his breakfast when Marcipor came in to say
that Senator Gallio was in his library and would be pleased to have a talk with
the Tribune at his early convenience.

'You may tell the Senator that I shall be down in a few minutes,' said
Marcellus.

He would have preferred to postpone, for a few days, this serious
interview with his father. It would be very difficult for the Senator to listen
to his strange story with patience or respect. For some moments Marcellus sat
staring out of the open window, while he absently peeled an orange that he
didn't intend to eat, and tried to decide how best to present the case of Jesus
the Galilean; for, in this instance, he would be more than an advocate.
Marcellus would be on trial, too.

Marcus Lucan Gallio was not a contentious man. His renown as a debater
in the Senate had been earned by diplomacy; by his knowing when and how much to
concede, where and whom to appease, and the fine art of conciliation. He never
doggedly pursued an argument for vanity's sake. But he was proud of his mental
morality.

If, for example, he became firmly convinced that at all times and
everywhere water seeks a level, there would be no use in coming to him with the
tale that on a certain day, in a certain country, at the behest of a certain
man, water was observed to run uphill. He had no time for reports of events
which disregarded natural laws. As for 'miracles,' the very word was offensive.
He had no tolerance for such stories and not much more tolerance for persons
who believed in them. And because, in his opinion, all religions were built on
faith in supernatural beings and supernatural doings, the Senator was not only
contemptuous of religion, but admitted a candid distaste for religious people.
Anybody who went in for such beliefs was either ignorant or unscrupulous. If a
man, who had any sense at all, became a religious propagandist, he needed
watching; for, obviously, he meant to take advantage of the feeble-minded, who
would trust him because of his piety. Some people, according to Senator Gallio,
seemed to think that a pious man was inevitably honest, whereas the facts would
show that piety and integrity were categorically irrelevant. It was quite
proper for old Servius to importune his gods. One could even forgive old
Tiberius for his consuming interest in religion, seeing that he was half crazy.
But there was no excuse for such nonsense in a healthy, educated man.

Marcellus had been treated with deep sympathy when he had come home a
year ago. He had suffered a great shock and his mind was temporarily
unbalanced. He couldn't have said anything too preposterous for his father's
patience. But now he was sound in body and mind. He would tell the Senator this
morning an amazing story of a man who had healed all manner of diseases; a man
who, having been put to death on a cross, rose from his grave to be seen of
many witnesses. And this would undoubtedly make the Senator very angry--and
disgusted. 'Bah!' he would shout. 'Nonsense!'

This forecast of his father's probable attitude had been appallingly
accurate. It turned out to be a very unhappy interview. From almost the first
moment, Marcellus sensed strong opposition. He had decided to begin his
narrative with Jesus' unjust trials and crucifixion, hoping thus to enlist the Senator's
sympathy for the persecuted Galilean, but he was not permitted to build up his
case from that point.

'I have heard all that, my son,' said Gallio, crisply. 'You need not
review it. Tell me of the journey you made into the country where this man lived.'

So, Marcellus had told of his tour with Justus; of little Jonathan,
whose crippled foot had been made strong; of Miriam, who had been given a
voice; of Lydia, who had found healing by a touch of his robe; of old Nathanael
Bartholomew, and the storm at sea--while his father gazed steadily at him from
under shaggy, frowning brows, offering no comments and asking no questions.

At length he had arrived at the phase of the story where he must talk of
Jesus' return to life. With dramatic earnestness he repeated everything that
they had told him of these reappearances, while the lines about the Senator's
mouth deepened into a scowl.

'It all sounds incredible, sir,' he conceded, 'but I am convinced that
it is true.' For a moment, he debated the advisability of telling his father
about the miracle he had seen with his own eyes--Peter's healing of the
cripple. But no, that would be too much. His father would tell him he had been
imposed upon by these miracle stories reported to him by other men. But there
would be nothing left for the Senator to say except 'You lie!' if he told him
that he himself had seen one of these wonders wrought.

'On the testimony of a few superstitious fishermen!' growled Gallio,
derisively.

'It was not easy for me to accept, sir,' admitted Marcellus, 'and I am
not trying to persuade you of it. You asked me to tell you what I had learned
about Jesus, and I have told you truly. It is my belief that this Galilean is
still alive. I think he is an eternal person, a divine person with powers that no
king or emperor has ever possessed, and I further believe that he will
eventually rule the world!'

Gallio chuckled bitterly.

'Had you thought of telling Tiberius that this Jesus intends to rule the
world?'

'I may not need to say that to Tiberius. I shall tell him that Jesus,
who was put to death, is alive again. The Emperor can draw his own
conclusions.'

'You had better be careful what you say to that crazy old man', warned
Gallio. 'He is insane enough to believe you, and this will not be pleasant
news. Don't you know he is quite capable of having you punished for bringing
him a tale like that?'

'He can do no more than kill me,' said Marcellus, quietly.

'Perhaps not,' retorted Gallio; 'but even so light a punishment as
death--for an aspiring young man--might be quite an inconvenience.'

Marcellus humoured his father's grim jest with a smile.

'In sober truth, sir, I do not fear death. There is a life to come.'

'Well, that is an ancient hope, my son,' conceded Gallio, with a vague
gesture. 'Men have been scrawling that on their tombs for three thousand years.
The only trouble with that dream is that it lacks proof. Nobody has ever
signalled us from out there. Nobody has ever come back to report.'

'Jesus did!' declared Marcellus.

Gallio sighed deeply and shook his head. After a moody silence, he
pushed back his chair and walked slowly around the big desk, as Marcellus rose
to meet his approach.

'My son,' he said, entreatingly, laying his hands on the broad
shoulders, 'go to the Emperor and tell him what you have learned of this
Galilean prophet. Quote Jesus' words of wisdom. They are sensible and should do
Tiberius much good if he would heed them. Tell him, if you must, about the
feats of magic. The old man will believe them, and the more improbable they are
the better they--and you--will please him. That, in my opinion, should be
sufficient.'

'Nothing about Jesus' return to life?' inquired Marcellus, respectfully.

'Why should you?' demanded Gallio. 'Take a common-sense view of your
predicament. Through no fault of yours, you have had an unusual experience, and
are now obliged to report on it to the Emperor. He has been mad for a dozen
years or more and everybody in Rome knows it. He has surrounded himself with
scores of scatter-brained philosophers, astrologers, soothsayers, and diviners
of oracles. Some of them are downright impostors and the rest of them are
mentally unhinged. If you tell Tiberius what you have told me, you will be just
one more monkey added to his menagerie.'

It was strong medicine, but Marcellus grinned; and his father, feeling
that his argument was gaining ground, went on, pleadingly:

'You have a bright future before you, my son, if you will it so; but not
if you pursue this course. I wonder if you realize what a tragedy maybe in the
making for you--and for all of us! It will be a bitter experience for your
mother, and your sister, and your father, to know that our friends are telling
one another you have lost your mind; that you are one of the Emperor's wise
fools. And what will Diana say?' he continued, earnestly. 'That beautiful
creature is in love with you! Don't you care?'

'I do care, sir!' exclaimed Marcellus. 'And I realize that she may be
sadly disappointed in me, but I have no alternative. I have put my hand to this
plough--and I am not turning back!'

Gallio retreated a step and lounged against his desk, with a sly smile.

'Wait until you see her before you decide to give her up.'

'I am indeed anxious to see her, sir.'

'Will you try to meet her, down there, before you talk to Tiberius?'

'If possible, yes, sir.'

'You have made your arrangements for the voyage?'

'Yes, sir. Demetrius has seen to it. We leave this evening. Galley to
Ostia. To Capri on the
Cleo
.'

'Very good,' approved Gallio, much encouraged. He slapped Marcellus on
the back. 'Let us take a walk in the gardens. And you haven't been to the
stables yet.'

'A moment, please, sir, before we go.' Marcellus's face was serious. 'I
know you have a feeling that everything is settled now, according to your wish,
and I would be happy to follow your counsel if I were free to do so.'

'Free?' Gallio stared into his son's eyes. 'What do you mean?'

'I feel obliged, sir, to tell the Emperor of Jesus' return to life.'

'Well, well, then,' consented Gallio, brusquely, 'if you must talk about
that, let it be as a local rumour among the country people. You don't have to
tell Tiberius that
you
believe it! If you want to say that a few
fishermen thought they saw him, that should discharge your obligation. You have
no personal knowledge of it.
You
didn't see him!'

'But I saw a man who did see him, sir!' declared Marcellus. '
I
saw
this man looking at him!'

'And that constitutes proof, in your opinion?' scoffed Gallio.

'In this instance, yes, sir! I saw a Greek stoned for his Christian
belief. He was a brave man, ready to risk his life for his faith. I knew him,
and trusted him. When everyone thought him dead, he raised himself up, smiled,
and shouted, "
I see him!"
And--
I know that he saw him!'

'But you don't have to tell that to Tiberius!' said Gallio, testily.

'Yes, sir! Having heard and seen that, I should be a coward if I did not
testify to it! For I, too, am a Christian, sir! I cannot do otherwise!'

Gallio made no reply. With bent head, he turned away slowly and left the
room, without a backward glance.

Lamenting his father's disappointment, Marcellus sauntered out to the
pergola, feeling sure that Lucia would be waiting for him. She saw him coming
and ran to meet him. Linking their arms, she tugged him along gaily toward
their favourite rendezvous.

'What's the matter?' she insisted, shaking his arm. 'Had a row with the
Senator?'

'I hurt his feelings,' muttered Marcellus.

'I hope you weren't talking to him about that awful business up there in
Jerusalem that made you sick!'

'No, dear; but I was telling him about that man--and I would be glad to
tell you, too.'

'Thanks, my little brother!' chaffed Lucia. 'I don't want to hear a word
of it! High time you forgot all about it! . . . Here, Bambo! . . . Make a fuss
over him, Marcellus. He hardly knows you.' Her lips pouted. 'Neither do I,' she
murmured. 'Aren't you ever going to be happy any more? Last night we all
thought you were well again. I was so glad, I lay awake for hours, hugging
myself for joy! Now you're glum and moody.' Big tears stood in her eyes. 'Please,
Marcellus!'

'Sorry, sister.' He put his arm around her. 'Let us go and look at the
roses. . . . Here, Bambo!'

Bambo strolled up and consented to have his head patted.

The Emperor had not been well for many weeks. Early in April, while
rashly demonstrating how tough he was, the old man had ambled down to the
uncompleted villa on the easternmost end of the mall in a drenching rain and
had taken a severe cold, the effects of which had depleted his not too abundant
vitality.

In normal circumstances Tiberius, customarily careful of his health,
would have taken no such risk; or, having taken it, would have gone at once to
bed, fuming and snorting, to be packed in hot fomentations and doctored with
everything that the court physicians could devise.

But on this occasion the Emperor, having renewed his youth--or at least
having attained his second childhood--had sat about with Diana in the dampness
of the new villa, wet to the skin, after which he had sauntered back to the
Jovis pretending to have enjoyed the rain and refusing to permit anyone to aid
him, though it was clear enough that he was having a bad chill: he had sneezed
violently in the Chamberlain's face while hoarsely protesting that he was sound
as a nut.