the lance,
the dagger, and the wheel were wreaking vengeance and creating new
perils while they were removing old ones. The king had tried vainly to
repair the past. He gave freely to the poor; he erected gorgeous
places of amusement; he built the new temple and a great palace in the
upper city. The splendor of the latter structures had outdone the
imperator. No shape born of barbaric dreams, to be slowly spread upon
the earth in marble and gold, had so taxed the cunning and the patience
of human hands. Such, in brief, were the character, the troubles, the
home, and the city of Herod.

CHAPTER 13

In travel-worn garb Vergilius went early to see the king. Accustomed
to the grandeur of Rome itself, he yet saw with astonishment the
beautiful groves, the lakes, canals, and fountains sparkling in the
sunlight which surrounded the great marble palace of Herod. In the
shadow of its many towers, each thirty cubits high, Vergilius began to
feel some dread of this terrible king. At least fifty paces from the
door of his chamber, in the great hall above-stairs, he could hear the
growl of the old lion. In Herod was the voice of wrath and revenge and
terror. His words came rolling out in a deep, husky, guttural tone, or
leaped forth hissing with anger. Some officials stood by the king's
door with fear and dread upon their faces. A young woman of singular
beauty was among them.

"O Salome, daughter of Herod," said one, "the king would have you come
to-morrow. He is in ill humor with the plotters."

"And I with him," said she, stamping her foot.

An usher had presented Vergilius at the door. As Herod's daughter
proudly turned away, she came face to face with the young Roman noble.
For one moment their eyes held each other. A chamberlain approached
Vergilius, whispered a few inquiries, and then led him before the king.
Herod was having a bad day.

"Traitors!" he hissed. In a voice like the menacing growl of a savage
beast he added: "May their eyes rot in their heads! Go! I have heard
enough, bearer of evil tidings."

Far down the great chamber in which half a cohort could have stood
comfortably, in a carved chair on a dais, under a vault and against a
background of blue, Babylonian tapestry, sat the king. A priest had
bowed low and was now leaving his presence. The chamberlain announced,
in a loud voice, "Vergilius, son of Varro, of Rome, and officer of the
fatherly and much-beloved Gaius Julius Caes