The City of Delight

Without a moment's hesitation, the Ephesian approached. The spears of

the four soldiers fell and formed a barrier around the Greek. The

new-comer smiled confidently.

"Greeting, servant of Amaryllis," he said. "I am your lady's expected

guest."

The Greek came forth from the square formed by his guard.

"I am that servant of Amaryllis," he said courteously. "But show me

yet another sign."

The Ephesian drew from his bosom the Maccabaean signet and flashed its

blue fires at the Greek. The servant stepped hastily between the

soldiers and the new-comer.

"Thy name?" he asked in a whisper.

"I am Philadelphus Maccabaeus."

The servant bent and taking the hem of the woolen tunic pressed it to

his lips.

"Happy hour!" he exclaimed. "I pray you follow me."

The pretender breathed a relieved sigh and joined his protector.

They passed down into Akra and approached the straight column of

pungent smoke towering up from a charred heap that the Ephesian in

spite of his haste inspected curiously.

"What is that?" he asked of the Greek.

"That, master, is the city granaries."

"The granaries!" the Ephesian cried, aghast.

The Greek inclined his head.

"What--what--fired them?" the Ephesian asked.

"John and Simon differed on the point of its control and each fired it

to keep the other from possessing it!"

For a moment the Ephesian was thunderstruck. Then he quickened his

pace.

"By the horns of Capricornus!" he avowed. "The sooner one gets out of

this, the wiser he must be counted!"

The Greek looked at him with lifted brows and led on.

They crossed the Tyropean Valley and approached a small new house of

stone, abutting the vast retaining wall that was built against Moriah.

A line of soldiers was thrown out from the entrance to the house and

his conductor, after whispering a word to the captain, led the way up

to a double-barred door. A long time after he had rapped, there was

the sound of falling chains and the door swung open. A second Greek

servant of no less beauty bowed the new-comer and his companion

within. The noise of the streets was suddenly cut off. Soft dusk and

quiet proved that the doors of Amaryllis had been shut upon unhappy

Jerusalem.

The second servant drew a cord and a roller of matting lifted and

showed a skylight. Philadelphus the pretender was in the andronitis of

a Greek house.

It was typical. None but a Greek with the purest taste had planned it.

Walls and pavement were of unpolished marble, lusterless white. A

marble exedra built in a semicircle sat in the farther end, facing a

chair wholly of ivory set beside a lectern of dull brass. At either

end of the exedra on a pedestal formed by the arms, a brass staff

upheld a flat lamp that cast its luster down on the seat by night.

Against an opposite wall built at full length of the hall, was a

pigeonholed case, which was stacked with brass cylinders. This was the

library of the Greek. At a third side was a compound arch concealed by

a heavy white curtain. There were low couches spread with costly white

material which were used when Amaryllis set her table in her

andronitis, and at the arches leading into the interior of the house

there were draperies. But the chamber, with all its richness, had a

splendid emptiness that made it imposing, not luxurious.