The Silver Chalice (50 page)

“Yes,” she answered eagerly. “I would like to know how it happened that my husband’s citizenship was restored. You know all about it, I am sure.”

“It was not easy,” said the banker. “The deposing of your husband was much talked about at the time and almost everyone was convinced he had been unjustly treated, that the magistrate had been bribed. When it became known that his freedom had been purchased and that he had applied for reinstatement, it seemed to a number of citizens, including myself, that the chance had come to compensate him in some small degree. We met and decided to exercise such pressure as might be needed to have it put through the court quickly—and quietly. Needless to state, perhaps, all of us were antagonistic to Linus and what he represents.”

He smiled at Deborra and gave his head a vigorous shake as though to clear it. “We were in agreement that the confirmation should come at the moment when it could do him the most good. It was not entirely a coincidence that it came when it did.

“It would not have been possible to get him his citizenship if it had been in Rome,” he proceeded to explain. “The slaves and freedmen greatly outnumber the citizens there, and so the slavery laws are strictly enforced. But in the provinces, and most particularly here in Antioch, we are disposed to wink at the regulations. We do things our own way. The plan was carried through neatly and with the greatest secrecy. Linus did not know anything about it. He would have moved all earth and the nether regions to upset us, had he known.”

“We are disposed to think,” said Luke, “that the appearance of Linus in court was another little conspiracy of the same kind.”

“It was not a coincidence. Linus, actually, is a stupid ox; it did not occur
to him that the idea of going to court had been insinuated into his mind for a purpose. He saw only that the chance had come to be harmful. That he had crossed weapons with Fabius on several occasions added to his willingness to interfere, and so he came striding in, expecting to sweep everything before him.”

The drug was beginning to act and the banker’s eyes had narrowed to slits. His reserve of manner had left him and an almost theatrical tendency had supplanted it.

“It was, as you observed, a great success. Fabius, angered by the confident manner of Linus, espoused our point of view.” His tongue had now ceased to be on its guard and showed a tendency to loquacity. He talked in grandiloquent terms. “He is always in need of a bath, our good friend Fabius; a sot, a glutton, a leering satyr, a moldy wineskin washed up by an overflowing sewer. But as I listened to him it seemed to me that a great white light played about him and that he had sprouted a pair of the spotless wings of your Hebrew angels.”

“Will my husband be in any danger if he remains in Antioch?” asked Deborra.

The exuberance of manner departed and Jabez gave the situation some careful thought, drumming on the table with the tips of his slender fingers. “Linus may be counted upon to show enmity,” he said. “Fortunately he has been shrinking in stature. He began with a great flourish and a sounding of trumpets, but recently it has become apparent that he has made serious mistakes. He has proven himself somewhat rash in speculation and he has made some political alliances that are not well advised. The results are now being felt. Linus at the moment is on the defensive.”

The great money-changer slid down from his chair. All the lightness of mood that the drug had induced seemed to have deserted him. There was coldness and menace in his eye. No one looking at him in this mood would have given a thought to his lack of stature.

“We have plans about this fellow,” he said. “We do not like him at all. Before long we shall take some steps to put him back where he belongs.”

The coldness left his eyes as suddenly as it had come. He even smiled. “And now for a much pleasanter matter. We shall go upstairs and pay a visit to my wife.”

Like the fair and virtuous Lucretia when visited by the false Sextus, the lady Antonia was seated with her handmaidens when they reached her apartments. The parallel ended there. Some of the servants were busy with distaff and needle, it is true, but Antonia herself was not taking any part in their labors. She was reclining on a couch while one of her maids burnished and colored her fingernails, and she was gazing idly out of an open window through which the last manifestations of the previous day’s breeze were stirring the curtains. It seemed certain enough that on her feet she would be somewhat taller than her attentive husband, and she was unmistakably beautiful in a pronounced and dusky way.

It became clear to Deborra at once that she had been laboring under delusions in the matter of feminine dress. The whole matter had seemed very simple; there was a narrow range of colors to select from and few established designs. Antonia, quite clearly, had never acknowledged such limitations. Her robe was bewilderingly novel: of a rich plum brown with panels of yellow on the shoulders, laced with the richest of blues, and a star of the same shades on the breast. From her waist, which was close-fitting instead of blousing loosely to obscure the girdle, there radiated small pointed shafts of gold, pointing both up and down and edged with a more delicate tone of blue. Each movement of her arms revealed the quite amazing fact that the sleeves were lined with gold silk. Deborra was so fascinated with this originality and audacity that she could not take her eyes from the figure of the matron.

Perhaps the effects of the drug had already worn off. Perhaps it was habitual with Jabez to show restraint in the presence of his rather formidable wife. At any rate, he addressed her in a subdued tone.

“My sweet wife, my delicate little fuchsia bud, I have brought guests. This is Luke the Physician and this is Deborra, the granddaughter of my once very good friend, Joseph of Arimathea. You have been hearing a great deal about them.”

His wife paid no attention at all to Luke but fixed her decidedly handsome, if rather bold, black eyes on Deborra with an interest she made no effort to conceal.

“I have been hearing a very great deal,” she said. “So much that I am afraid I shall be intrusive and ask many questions.”

“In that case,” said Jabez in a playful tone, “we shall leave you two lovely children together to chatter and gossip. Perhaps you will permit us to return later for such refreshments as you may care to offer us.”

The banker’s wife lost no time, as soon as the two men had withdrawn, in probing into the state of Deborra’s mind.

“You are very young,” she said. “But somehow I feel that you are not enjoying the ecstatic happiness that is supposed to be found in an early marriage with the man you love. It was a love match, was it not?”

“My husband,” said Deborra hesitantly, “is the man of my choice.”

The lady Antonia seemed to find food for reflection in this reply. “Forgive what may seem rude curiosity on my part,” she said. “But I am sure you need the advice of someone who is older and more experienced than you. Is it not so?”

Deborra decided to confide in this new acquaintance. “Yes, it is so,” she replied.

The dark eyes of the matron studied her with the interest a scientist might display in some new specimen. “Can it be that this young husband of yours has—shall we say—other interests?”

Deborra, embarrassed by the presence of the maids, made no reply. The matron took instant note of her hesitation and realized the reason for it. “Never mind my girls,” she said. “I always have them about me. They amuse and stimulate me. I am lost without them.”

“But—but anything I might want to say would be for your ears only.”

“They never repeat what they hear or tell what they see. I have trained my little pets to be absolutely silent and discreet. If you wish me to be helpful, you will have to conform to my ways. This may seem strange to you, but I promise that you can talk with perfect freedom in front of them.” She sat up on her couch in order to reach out a hand to pat her visitor reassuringly on the arm. “My dear child, there is nothing easier in the world than to solve your difficulties with a husband. Is that not so, my girls?”

The handmaidens seemed unanimously convinced that the need to worry over the behavior of husbands was slight.

“If it happened to be a matter involving a suitor or—shall we say?—a lover,” went on Antonia, “you might expect to find it difficult. Suitors are always jealous, moody, ready to take offense. A lover is always a source of trouble and grief to a married woman. Take my testimony for what you like; a lover is never worth the pain and embarrassment he is certain to cause you. But a husband! My dear child, husbands were made to be
twisted around fingers. You live in such intimacy with them. You can resort to tears; you can sulk, scream, threaten, refuse his wishes. When a man becomes a husband, he surrenders all his advantages.”

“I thought it was the other way round,” said Deborra timidly.

“Only when a wife does not appreciate
her
advantages,” declared the matron. “Husbands are lordly creatures. But it is only on the surface.”

It was clear that the maidservants were all very fond of her. They followed every word she said and laughed delightedly over what she did. They were kept busy saying, “Yes, mistress,” but there seemed to be sincerity in their affirmatives.

“I think perhaps you have been raised in a household of men,” said Antonia, studying Deborra with an eye that was as shrewd as it was bright. “You have not seen much of other women. That is bad. Your enemies through life will be other women, and so you should understand them and know what to expect.”

When Deborra looked both puzzled and startled, the matron proceeded to expound the point further. “It will always be women who stand in your way and contend for the things you want,” she declared. “They will try to outdo you in looks. They will try to win the attention of men from you. When your sons become men, they will take them away from you; and sometimes they will treat them badly and return them to you in shabby condition. Now let us consider this woman who is making you unhappy. I have no idea who she is or what her station in life may be——”

“She was once a slave.”

“It is a curious thing, dear child, that a woman slave has a particular appeal for men. She can be beaten and put in chains, and her virtue is like a tag that he can tear from her at his own sweet will. It is clear this ex-slave knows how to attract men. More, perhaps, than you do.”

Deborra nodded her head unhappily. “I do not think I know anything about it at all.”

“You had, of course, many suitors.”

“No. I did not know any young men. My grandfather lived a most secluded life and he wanted me with him all the time.”

“No suitors! This is worse than I suspected. My child, my child! We must indeed take you in hand. Let us see what my little girls can show you.”

Two of the little girls, whose names were Saida and Zenobia, proceeded to demonstrate how feminine charms could best be displayed, by a sinuous way of walking, by the use of a fan, by a careless dropping of the
palla
to
reveal a generous portion of the neck and shoulder, by allowing glimpses of the foot beneath the skirt.

Antonia asked Deborra, “Have you employed such simple little artifices as these?” and the latter answered that she had not. The large, arched eyes of the matron studied her figure intently. “You are exactly right for it,” she said. “You are small and nicely put together. Your shoulders, I can see from here, are quite lovely. Now let’s have a look at your foot. My dear, my dear! Why have you so neglected your opportunities? Your foot is a shade on the chubby side, but it is white and pretty. So few women have nice feet, and it is a shame not to make use of ones as lovely as yours. Do you believe in cosmetics?”

The young wife, who was feeling hopelessly old-fashioned and on the defensive, was glad to be able to say that she used cosmetics. When she had enumerated the various aids to beauty she employed, however, Antonia gave her head a despairing shake.

“It is clear,” she said, “that the little boxes that were brought you from the East were filled with articles selected by men. They know nothing of such things. Women haven’t used such simple aids since the Queen of Sheba visited Solomon. And how many centuries ago was that? Zenobia, bring
my
box.”

It proved to be a very large box, made of an Eastern wood that filled the room with an aromatic odor. From inside it the matron, who clearly owed some of her beauty to the use of its contents, produced a great variety of jade and silver bottles. She drew them out one at a time and explained their use as she did so. Deborra listened with mounting awe as salve and lotion and chemical mixture of one kind and another were brought out and commented upon. “Never worry about your complexion,” said Antonia. “It is good enough, as it happens. Most women do worry and it is very silly. A complexion can be put on and off at will. I change mine to suit each robe.” Observing a look of amazement on Deborra’s face, she added, “And so will you, my child, when your education has been completed.”

The box contained also a half dozen or more perfume sprinklers, all of them tall bottles with slender necks about five inches high. Deborra, invited to investigate them, was amazed at their strangeness and piquancy.

One was reserved for the last, a bottle taller than the others. Antonia did not touch it. She gave it instead an almost timid look and said, “It is called Circe’s Secret, and there is a story about it.”

“Please, mistress, tell us,” clamored the young maidservants in chorus

Still regarding the tall bottle askance, the mistress of the house proceeded to tell the story. “Do you know about Circe’s Palace and how sailors were lured ashore to visit it? Well, it seems that a sailor went there once who was more interested in the fine wines Circe provided than in Circe herself. Because of this, the foolish fellow was able to get away from the palace without being turned into a wild beast or a snake or a mythical bird. Thinking this bottle contained wine, he took it with him and went rolling down the road to the harbor. He succeeded in getting off the island and was picked up by a passing ship. When he found the bottle contained perfume instead of wine, he fell into a savage mood and threw it into the scuppers. The contents would have been lost if the captain had not been curious about the shape of the bottle and picked it up. That is how it happens to be in existence.” She gave the bottle a close look and then shuddered. “There is a penalty that goes with it. For every drop you use, a month is taken off your life. I stopped using it long ago.”