The Silver Chalice (39 page)

There followed one of the long silences to which men of the East, and particularly those who passed their lives on the desert trails, were much addicted. Then one of the guards caught Adam’s eye.

“Master!”

“I am listening, Shammai.”

“These are good camels,” said the guard. “Their feet will never linger enough to suffer from sand burns. It is true that some of them are old, but is it not said with great truth that a strong old camel carries the hides of many young ones?”

“It is a wise saying, Shammai.”

“The pace must on that account be set by what these older ones are
capable of doing. They can do fifty miles a day. But, master, they can do fifty for no more than five days at a stretch. If you try to keep them longer at this fast pace they will grumble and complain. Then they will groan and whimper; and very soon, master, they will drop down to their knees and their heads will sink forward slowly, and they will die of the efforts they have made. I am young, but this I say without hesitation, even in this company of men who are older and wiser than I am, that it would be wrong to do more than thirty-five or forty a day. That gait can be maintained for the whole distance, and none of them will be any the worse for it.”

“We have listened to the words of Shammai,” said Adam. “If we follow his advice, what chance have we of getting first to Antioch?”

“May one speak who knows little of such matters but has sailed much on the seas?” asked Luke.

Adam waited for the nod of acquiescence from the brown heads of the caravan men before saying, “We shall be glad to listen.”

Luke bowed to the company and expressed his appreciation in the customary phrase, “I thank those who are wiser than I.” Then he bowed to Adam alone. “It is true that a ship may make sixty miles a day, but this is only the case when conditions of wind and sun are perfect. It is to be expected that on some days at this season there will be no wind at all and that ships will float idly on a sea without any swell and with sails hanging as limply as vines after a frost. On such days no progress may be made at all, or at the most a few miles. On the other hand, if the winds are strong, it may be impossible to venture out from the harbor, or at best to creep from island to island. Even when the winds are not heavy they may blow from the north or west, and then it becomes necessary to take slanting tacks so that a ship may seem to be accomplishing a full day’s journey and yet be no more than a few miles farther at the end of the twenty-four hours.”

“What does Luke the Physician advise us to do?” asked Adam.

“I have no advice to give. My sole purpose was to make it clear that there will be difficulties at sea as great as any we may encounter.”

Seated cross-legged at a point of the circle opposite Adam was a young driver with dark, eager eyes and a ready smile. Basil had liked him from the start and had made occasions to talk with him. He sang a great deal and his name was Chimham.

“Since there is need to reach Antioch first,” said this young camel man, “we should take every risk to win this race.”

Basil leaned forward excitedly. “Chimham is right!” he cried. “We cannot afford to be cautious. We must take risks.”

Adam turned toward him with a hostile eye. “You are an outsider,” he said, “and may not address the council without the consent of the members.”

A slow fury that had been aroused in Basil by the open antagonism of Adam was on the point of breaking into a blaze. He was so angry at this stage that for a long moment he did not dare risk speaking. Finally he said in a suppressed tone, “Have I the permission of the council to speak?”

The white-swathed heads bowed their willingness. Basil edged forward and began: “Yes, we must take risks. What will it benefit us if we spare the camels and arrive in Antioch too late to accomplish the purpose that takes us there?”

“They are my camels,” asserted Adam.

“You have kept us well aware of that.”

“If they are driven beyond their powers and die, it will be my loss.”

“That is clear to all of us.”

“The point,” declared Adam angrily, “is worth raising, I think.”

“It is worth raising.” Basil stared at the caravan owner with no attempt to conceal his feelings. “It is a point I wish to discuss with you alone after this council is over.”

“I cannot conceive of anything
you
may say that will have any bearing on the decision that faces us.”

“Perhaps,” declared Basil, “you will change your mind. In the meantime I have a plan to propose. It is not necessary to drive the whole fleet to the limit of their powers. Select instead the two strongest and fastest and give them no more than a rider to carry and a small supply of food. I am told that under these circumstances a good camel can do more than fifty miles and keep it up indefinitely.”

“That is true,” said Chimham. It was clear that he had sensed what Basil had to propose and was in full agreement. “We have several in this fleet that could keep up that gait as far at least as Antioch.”

“The riders,” went on Basil, “should set out at once and carry the word ahead to Antioch that nothing should be done about a certain matter until the full caravan arrives. I believe they could be counted upon to arrive three or four days ahead of the caravan and that they could get there ahead of the ship.”

Chimham had been doing some intensive reckoning. “Give the riders
a free hand and they might arrive five days ahead of the rest,” he declared.

“May I speak?” asked Luke.

There was a solemn bobbing of heads. Adam, rubbing his nose in concentrated thought, paid no attention to the request.

“I think we have listened to words of good sense,” declared Luke. “We will have some advantage under this plan, and the possibilities of loss are reduced to the effect on two camels only.”

Adam looked up to ask, “Who will volunteer to act if this plan is decided upon?”

“I will go!” cried Chimham eagerly. “Let me have old Bildad. He is as stubborn and mean as the Bildad for whom he is named, the comforter who sat so sour on the stomach of Job. He knows my ways and he likes me; that is, if a camel has enough sense to like anyone or anything. Some say they don’t, but I think they do. I promise this much by the earth and my head: let me have Bildad and I will ride him down the four-columned Colonnade at Antioch before the sails of the ship can be sighted by the harbor lookouts.”

“Fine words,” grumbled Adam. “You blow so hard that you could stir up a wind strong enough to bring that ship into port ahead of the best camels that ever trod the trail.” He looked unwillingly at the circle of camel men squatted about him. “Who else?”

Basil did not wait for permission to speak. “Let me be the other to go. I know nothing of the handling of camels, but I am willing to learn. I am so concerned with the need to complete the journey in the shortest possible time that I am prepared to place myself under Chimham’s orders and to do everything that he may demand of me.”

Deborra touched his shoulder with an anxious hand. “But, Basil, can you stand the fatigue?” she whispered. “Can you bear the exposure to the sun by riding without cover? Should this not be left to those who are accustomed to the life of the desert?”

He answered in a low voice, placing his head in close proximity to hers but keeping his eyes on the ground. “It is my duty to go. I could not make this journey in comfort while others took the risks for us. If I did that, I should never be able to hold my head up again. Surely you agree with me.” Then, with some reluctance, he went on to give another reason. “By going I will, moreover, release you from the embarrassment of my presence. You will not be under the necessity of explaining why we do not share a tent. I confess that I also will be most happy to escape from my
share in this embarrassment. The plan,” he added after a moment, “will be to start tonight after a few hours’ rest. We will be well ahead of the caravan by the time you set out in the morning, and so there will be no gossiping or whispering or rubbing of hands about us. It is a perfect way to escape the difficulties of our position.”

While this went on Chimham had been addressing the council. He had expressed his willingness to have Basil as his companion and to undertake himself the care of both camels. He recommended that a younger camel than the morose veteran Bildad be selected. His choice, he said, would be Romamti-ezer. “Ezer,” he declared, “is a glutton and a complainer. He is a snarler and a howler by night and he would rather snap at the kneecap of a rider than an acacia bough. But he is strong and he will keep right up with Bildad. They will be the best combination.”

Adam looked up with a scowl and made a silent appraisal of the circle of his men. “Then it is settled,” he said. “Chimham and the bridegroom. Bildad and Ezer. Youth and experience. Peace be with them.”

Adam had dipped a hand in the dish of stewed lamb and was gnawing a knucklebone with relish. He sloshed his hand in hot water and gave his chin a hasty rubbing when Basil approached him.

“You expressed concern over the safety of your camels,” said the latter. “I come to propose that you allow me to purchase from you the pair we shall put to the test of this fast journey to Antioch.”

Adam indulged in a grunt. “Bildad and old Ezer will come high. Have you any idea
how
high?”

“I do not care.” The smolder of Basil’s resentment had now been fanned into an active blaze. “I have money. I have little knowledge of the value of camels—and little desire to know—but I think I have enough to pay for two. I want to make this clear. That I would rather be stripped of my last coin than be beholden further to you.”

Adam studied him with a shrewd eye. “Speaking right up to me like a stout little man,” he said. “This is a new face you are showing.”

“I have stood as much from you as I can. When I leave camp tonight it will be with the hope that I never set eyes on you again.”

“And I have stood as much of you as
I
can stomach,” declared Adam. “The dangers you will encounter on this journey cannot be too great to
satisfy me.” He was silent for a moment and then threw restraint aside. “If the balance were cast up between us, who would come out ahead? If you have any doubts, I will tell you.
You!
I have said many bitter things about you, both to your face and behind your back. A favorite pastime with me for the rest of my life will be to speak of you with scorn and bitterness; but all you will have to complain of will be the rasp of my tongue. On the other hand, do you realize what you have done to me?”

Basil nodded his head. “Yes, I know.”

“You have given me good reason to hate you.” Adam made an expressive gesture with his hands. “Oh, I will sell you the camels, and I will put the price high because of the intensity of my dislike for you. There will be satisfaction for me if I can succeed in making you pay most handsomely through the nose.”

Although he had said that he had no knowledge of the value of camels, it seemed to Basil that the price Adam then proceeded to state was fantastically high. He was slow at calculating, having little gift for figures, and it took him some time to decide that he could meet the price set and still have enough left to pay his expenses on the trips ahead of him. He did not then hesitate a moment longer.

“I accept,” he said.

Adam snapped his fingers impatiently. “Will you not give me the satisfaction of bargaining with you, of overreaching you in the end?” he cried. “No, I see you have no such intention. You are too proud. It suits you better to look at me with a cold eye and say to yourself, ‘I will not bandy words with this higgling dog.’ Let us get it over then as quickly as we may. Count out the money and give it to me. You are not generous enough to let me be the winner in as small a matter as this. Hurry! I am anxious to see the last of you.”

Basil took the purse from his belt and counted out the money. He tried to be quick about it as Adam had demanded, but his unfamiliarity with money made this impossible. Adam watched with no attempt to conceal his contempt and impatience.

“A word of advice,” said the caravan owner as the counting went on. “Learn something about the ways of the world. You are the little Deborra’s husband, and for her sake I do not want you to be cheated all your life as I am cheating you now. And another hint. Where did you get those clothes in which you were married?”

“They were a gift from Joseph of Arimathea.”

“That is strange. My master must have realized that they carried the
device of the eagle and serpent, which is the insignia of Dan. You are not a member of the tribe of Dan and you have no right to wear the device. My advice to you would be to have all the embroidery and the embossing removed.”

“I will never wear the clothes again if that will suit you better.”

Adam scowled. “I would be best suited if there had never been an occasion for you to wear them.”

The count came to an end and the money was handed to Adam. He checked the amount carefully before putting it away in his own belt.

“I think it is even between us tonight,” he said with belated satisfaction. “You have scorned to bargain with me. I have cheated you outrageously. Yes, it is even.” He gave his head a slow nod. “And now for some more advice, which I give in full honesty. Sleep until midnight. You will need every minute of rest you can get. Chimham will see to it in the meantime that all necessary arrangements are made. This, I trust, is the last time I shall speak to you, but I am not a hypocrite and so I do not say, ‘Peace be with you.’ This much I do wish you, a fast and safe trip to Antioch. I wish it most earnestly for the sake of the little Deborra.”

“Then,” said Basil, “we are, for once, in accord.”

When Basil sought out Luke in the small tent the latter occupied and said he would like the privilege of sleeping there until midnight, the physician regarded him with a questioning eye.

“This is strange behavior, my son,” he said. “Can it be that you have quarreled with your wife?”

Basil shook his head. “There has been no quarrel. All I am free to tell you is that I am here at Deborra’s wish.” He added after a moment’s pause, “If there is any fault in the matter, it is mine.”