The City of Delight

The old man shook his head and looked away to see a man-servant

stagger out under a load of splendid carpets. The old woman came

close.

"The wayside is ambushed and the wilderness is patrolled with danger,

Costobarus," she said. "Of a certainty you will not take Laodice out

into a country perilous for caravans and armies!"

"These very perils are the signs of the call of the hour," he

maintained. "She dare not fail to respond. The Deliverer cometh; every

prophecy is fulfilled. Rather rejoice that you have prepared your

daughter for this great use. Be glad that you have borne her."

But in Hannah's face wavered signs of another interpretation of these

things. She broke in on him without the patience to wait until he had

completed his sentence.

"Are they prophecies of hope which are fulfilled, or the words of the

prophet of despair?" she insisted. "What saith Daniel of this hour?

Did he not name it the abomination of desolation? Said he not that the

city and the sanctuary should be destroyed, that there should be a

flood and that unto the end of the war desolations shall be

determined? Desolations, Costobarus! And Laodice is but a child and

delicately reared!"

"All these things may come to pass and not a hair of the heads of the

chosen people be harmed," he assured her.

"But Laodice is too young to have part in the conflict of nations, the

business of Heaven and earth and the end of all things!"

A courier strode into the hall and approached Costobarus, saw that he

was engaged in conversation and stopped. The merchant noted him and

withdrew to read the message which the man carried.

"A letter from Philadelphus," he said over his shoulder, as he moved

away from Hannah. "He hath landed in Cæsarea with his cousin Julian of

Ephesus. He will proceed at once to Jerusalem. We have no time to

lose. Ah, Momus?"

He spoke to a servant who had limped into the hall and stood waiting

for his notice. He was the ruin of a man, physically powerful but as a

tree wrecked by storm and grown strong again in spite of its

mutilation. Pestilence in years long past had attacked him and had

left him dumb, distorted of feature, wry-necked and stiffened in the

right leg and arm. His left arm, forced to double duty, had become

tremendously muscular, his left hand unusually dexterous. Much of his

facial distortion was the result of his efforts to convey his ideas by

expression and by his attempts to overcome the interference of his wry

neck with the sweep of his vision.