The Silver Chalice (49 page)

“I have not been summoned to appear.” Linus indulged in a laugh that said such details did not concern him. “It happens, O Fabius, that I have information to give you. And so I am here.”

“This information concerns the character of one of the parties in this hearing?”

“It concerns the character of one Basil, son of Theron, seller of pens. It concerns also the rights of slaves and ex-slaves.”

“And you consider your views on these points to be worth the attention of the court?”

Linus began to scowl. “I do. It is your duty to hear what I have to say.”

The magistrate continued to speak in fully controlled tones. “The courts nevertheless are not open to any citizen who desires to express his opinions. Your ideas on the subject of slavery are well known, and in many circles they are not highly regarded. It is well known also”—his manner became suddenly glacial—“that Linus has small regard for the workings of the law. He believes, perhaps, that all judges are open to corrupt persuasion. Certainly he makes it clear that he considers himself above the rules that apply to lesser men.” He leaned out across the bench and scowled at the spluttering Linus. “If you had information that you considered pertinent, why did you not advise the court in advance?”

“I am here,” declared Linus.

Fabius snuffled angrily and let himself sink back into his chair. He continued to glare at the unbidden witness.

“Your information can have no bearing on the issues before this court. A decision given out in another court has settled all questions with reference to the status of the man Basil.” He pointed a finger suddenly at the figure in front of him. “Stand down! You will not be heard!”

Then the magistrate proceeded to make it clear that the incident had jolted him out of the indecision with which he had listened to the persuasive arguments of Ohad. He brought his fist down sharply on the surface of the bench.

“I now declare that no evidence has been introduced into these proceedings to justify me in disregarding the clear and precise instructions that the deceased Joseph of Arimathea drew up for the disposal of these funds. What he desired done with the moneys was made evident, in full accord with the spirit and letter of the Twelve Tables. The will of the testator, if in any degree reasonable, must always be the main consideration. I shall draw up an
addictio
at once, authorizing Jabez to distribute the funds as set forth in the instructions.”

The old prince, his parchment-like face wreathed in smiles, sought out Deborra as soon as the signal to rise was given.

“It was not possible to hear what was said because of inadequate knowledge,” he stated. “But it must be, from the sunshine of your faces, that
this judge, whose wisdom is greater than his appearance hints, has been fair and judicious in his decision. This humble witness of your triumph is very happy indeed.”

Deborra looked about the court for Adam but failed to see him. He had already bidden Luke farewell and left the court. In the door he had turned for a final look at the radiant young woman who had served so long as the Rachel on whom his fancy had been fixed. “Farewell!” he muttered. “For over twenty years I have flouted the law that says a man must marry by the time he is eighteen. I must continue to disregard it because I can see now that I shall carry your image in my heart always, little Deborra. But I shall never see you again.”

A minor official of the court bowed before Deborra as she prepared to leave. “Your presence,” he said, “is desired in the Chamber of the Petitioners.”

She looked at Luke for guidance. “I think you will find it is your father,” he said. “I will go with you as far as the door to make sure.”

It was Aaron who had sent for her. He was alone in the Chamber of the Petitioners, and it was clear from the spots of color visible in the region of his eyes and cheekbones that he had taken the decision in a bitter spirit. Without glancing up he continued to turn over the documents spread out in front of him.

“It is you?”

“Yes, Father.”

“You are satisfied, no doubt, with what you have done. You have subjected me to suffering and humiliation. I have had to stand in a foreign court before a hostile judge and see my only child range herself with my enemies. I must now return to Jerusalem, leaving you with the ex-slave you married without seeking my consent.”

“Father, I am filled with regrets.” Deborra was feeling so much compassion for him that she found it hard not to break into tears. “If there had been any other course open to me, I would have taken it. But there was no way.”

“You were acting, I am sure, on advice that came from my father. I have been aware for many years that he held me in small regard. All his affection was given to you. I had none of it.”

Deborra said in a low tone: “No, no, Father, you are wrong. It was always very clear to me that Grandfather yearned for a closer understanding with you and would have done anything to bring it about.”

Aaron raised his voice in angry denial. “He built a wall between us that could not be crossed. It was all because I refused to share his religious beliefs. He stole your affections from me and then turned you into a Christian.”

He was attired in plain white robes, which accentuated the slope of his narrow shoulders. This made him look so thin and insignificant that his daughter felt her heart fill with pity for him.

Aaron raised his head and stared into her eyes for the first time. He spoke in a furious haste. “I do not hold the memory of my father in honor or respect. He forfeited his right to any filial feeling on my part. I never want to hear his name spoken again.” He picked up one of the documents in front of him and shook it at her. “Here! If you will sign this, we may still avoid the consequences of what you have done today.”

Deborra looked at the document with trepidation. “What is it?”

“Your acquiescence to certain conditions. If you sign this, you will be agreeing to return with me to Jerusalem and to become a party to the action I shall bring to have your marriage set aside. You will be consenting also to have me assume control of this inheritance until such time as you marry with my consent. Sign this document, my erring and misguided child, and I will restore you to all your rights. You and your children after you will inherit everything I possess. You shall be in the meantime the mistress of my home, the sole object of my love and solicitude.”

Deborra began to sob. “You know full well, Father, that I cannot do this.”

“And why not?”

“Because”—the flow of her tears made it difficult for her to speak—“it would be throwing aside everything that Grandfather desired. And it would mean leaving the husband I love with all my heart. Surely you must see that what you ask is impossible.”

Aaron tossed the document down in front of him. “Think well, child. Your chance for serenity and happiness, for a secure future, depends on the decision you make.”

“I cannot do what you demand.”

“Is this your final word?”

“Yes, Father.”

Aaron rose to his feet. The color had ebbed from his cheeks and left
them white. He stripped the linen tunic from his shoulders and tore it into two pieces.

“Then hear what I have to say, stubborn and unfeeling child. Even as I cast this garment from me, I cast you out of my life. You cease to be my daughter from this moment. Your name will never be spoken in my hearing. This is my decision, and I shall never change.”

When Deborra told Luke what had occurred, he nodded to her gravely. “It is what could be expected. Your father is a bitterly disappointed man. He has taken the only form of retaliation open to him.”

“Surely his heart will soften. Do you not think he will change his mind in time?”

“It is always best to be honest, my child. No, I think there is little chance that he will relent. Once he has chosen a path, it is impossible to divert him.”

Deborra’s tears began to flow again. After several moments of unrestrained weeping she began to laugh hysterically. “He will never mend the breach between us, but I am sure the first thing he will do is to take the pieces of his tunic and have
them
mended,” she said.

J
ABEZ SAT
at a long table in a huge room when they were ushered in to see him the next day. Nowhere in this quiet establishment was there any hint of the turmoil and chaffering of the court of the money-changers where denarii were changed into didrachmas and half shekels and men haggled over the lepton, which was usually called a mite. A silence as complete as could be found on a high hill during a windless day filled the pillared room. Jabez looked up from the small pile of documents in front of him and invited them to be seated.

“Everything is settled,” said the banker, tapping the marble top with his small white knuckles. “Here are the documents to be signed. May I say I am happy to have this matter concluded so satisfactorily—and in accordance with the wishes of my very dear old friend?” He looked inquiringly at Deborra. “Your husband is not with you?”

Luke took it on himself to explain. “I am in agreement with his physician, who considered it unwise for him to come out yet. He will be able to come tomorrow.”

“Then the signing must be delayed another day.” Jabez lifted one of the documents on the table. “This contains the terms of the settlement. You are to receive on signing one half of the moneys due you. There is some inconvenience in this for me, as the amount is large, very large indeed. But I can manage to pay. You are to receive, in addition, the ownership of the house in which you are now living and which seems to please you. There are other purchases to be made for you—of jewelry, of household appointments, of horses, an Assyrian dog, an Egyptian cat. There are appointments of gold for a religious shrine, the location and nature of which are not indicated. Whatever is left after these matters are attended
to is to be held here and to be subject to your demands later. I may tell you there will be a substantial balance.”

Deborra asked anxiously: “You have not forgotten the sword with the jeweled handle for my husband? And the cloak with a gold clasp and all the new tools with silver handles?”

The banker nodded. “They are on the list. I did not enumerate all the items here.” He added in a severe tone, “I do not approve of many of them, as I have already told you.”

“There is to be a gold chain for Adam ben Asher and a fine emerald for the wife he will marry someday. And presents for all the men in the train and the servants who came with me. And there must be gold bracelets for the three sons of Catorius on the Plain of Esdraelon, Sempronius, Tiberius, and Gaius.”

Jabez nodded again. “A jeweler waits in another room with samples for your inspection.”

Deborra turned to smile at Luke. “Best of friends, what am I to do for you? You have no personal wants. To give you anything similar to the—the most inadequate gifts with which I am expressing my gratitude to all my other friends would be lacking in suitability and in care on my part. Perhaps there is some wish you have.”

Luke laid a hand affectionately on hers. “It can be stated at once. A purse, my child, a very plain purse, but one filled with small coins, so that when I walk in the Ward of the Trades I shall be able to provide some relief for the poverty there. Make me a dispenser of your bounty.”

“Yes!” cried Deborra eagerly. “It must be like the magic purse that never became empty.”

“Your coming to Antioch,” said Luke, “will be a memorable event for the poor, hungry old men in the ward and the undernourished children.”

“Have a care!” exclaimed the banker. “This magic purse might deplete a fortune as large even as yours, generous lady.” His lips drew tightly together. “I do not believe in magic purses.”

He made a move to get to his feet but changed his mind. After a brief hesitation he reached for a jeweled box that lay on the table close to his hand. This he opened, revealing that it contained a sticky paste of a shade that defied identification, except that it bore a faint resemblance to violet. Dipping a forefinger into it with the utmost care, he drew out an infinitesimal quantity of the paste. This he placed on the tip of his tongue. His eyes closed and a sigh, which could be induced only by a pleasurable sensation, escaped from him. His lips closed tight, and it was several
moments before he opened his eyes. They seemed to have acquired a completely new brilliance, and his manner had become more brisk and animated.

“Cannabis,” he said. “It comes from the Far East, from India. I do not offer it to anyone. It is strictly forbidden to all members of my household to touch the box; although I make no secret of my addiction to it, having the strength of will to use it in the smallest quantities. I cannot be sure that anyone else would exercise the same restraint and so I allow it to myself alone. When I have labored a long time and a weariness has possession of me, I take a little of it. It restores all of my powers at once.

“And now,” he said, shoving the box to one side and turning to Deborra, “there are perhaps some questions you would like to ask.”