Chapter 24

The festival of games, in honor of Augustus, were about to begin at
Caesarea. Lately the highway from north to south, which passed the
gates of Jerusalem, had been as a fair of the nations. A host had
journeyed far to amuse the great king or to enjoy his holiday. Gayer
and more given to proud speech than they who came to the festivals of
the Temple, beneath the skull-bone there was yet a more remarkable
unlikeness.

These were mostly the children of Hatred, each heart a lair of wild
passions, each brain teeming with catlike gods. Here were they to be
lifted up by the power of love--the heathen, the debased. What a
gathering of the enemies of God and man! Crowding at the gates were
gladiators from Greece and Rome; Arab chiefs upon camels, with horses
trained for the race; troops of rich men with armed retainers; hunters
bringing wild beasts in cages lashed upon heavy carts; squads of Roman
cavalry; gamblers, peddlers, thieves, bandits, musicians, dancers, and
singers, some walking, some riding horse or camel. Many had travelled
far for one purpose--to behold the great king. Now solemn whispers of
gossip had gone to every side of the city. Herod was ill, so said
they, and had not long to live. That morning of the day before the
games the old king had summoned Vergilius.

"I will not be cheated by God or man," said he, fiercely. "Tell the
master of the games that I will have him entertain me here to-day,
after the middle hour, in my palace court. Bid him bring beast and
gladiator and the strong men of the prisons. Let him not forget the
traitors. I would have, also, a thousand maids to sing and dance for
me."

The king looked down, impatiently, at his trembling hands. He flung a
wrathful gesture, and again that bestial voice: "Go, bid him bring
them!"

So at the middle hour a wonderful scene was beginning in the great
court of Herod's palace. The king sat on a balcony with Salome, Elpis,
Roxana, Phaedra, and others of his kindred. On the circular terraces
of a great fountain below and in front of them were rows of naked
maidens. Circle after circle of this living statuary towered, with
diminishing radii, above the court level, to an apex, where a stream of
cool, perfumed water, broken to misty spray, rose aloft, scattering in
the sunlight. So cunningly had they contrived to enhance the charm of
the spectacle, those many graceful shapes were under a fine,
transparent veil of water-drops lighted by rainbow gleams and sweet
with musky odor. Circles were closely massed around the base of the
fountain. They stood in silence, all looking down. The old king
surveyed them. Within the palace a hundred harpers smote their
strings, flooding the scene with music.