"Where the blue Aegean washes the shores of sunny Thrace," the eunuch began, with a far-away look in his eye. "Yea, in the land of Sparticus, that bravest of all fighters for the freedom of mankind, there lived my people and there lived I save when to gain knowledge I attended the schools of Greece. Fields had my people where the vine hung purple as the sky at midnight and grain did we garner golden as the belly of the tiger hide beside our hearthstones. Rich was my father's house in fields, and rich were his sons in wine and stores and flocks. Golden were my arms with cunningly wrought bracelets and around my neck hung gems from far lands.

"But richer than purple wine, or golden bands, or jewels, was the look of her whom I loved. White were the arms she hung around my neck, as milk and ivory. Pink like the first flush of the morning were the cheeks my lips pressed. Dark was her hair and soft like smoke in the evening, and her eyes shone like stars on the bosom of the sea. Blue as the summer sky were the veins that lay like tender lace over her virgin bosom. Her breath was fragrant like flowers behind damp stones and sweet was her voice as the music of waves when rainbow foam kisses rainbow foam and is lost in one embrace. And she was mine; and I was hers and a cot at the foot of a violet hill was ours.

"The sun shone. The breezes blew. The flowers bloomed. The clusters hung purple. The grain stood golden. And then—aye, then came Rome—Rome the scourge! Rome the curse! Rome the wolf! With fire, sword, rapine, murder—came Rome! When the invading army crossed the bounds we took refuge in a walled city. Soon we were surrounded by a forest of glittering spears. I was an archer on the wall, and we showered the brutes that hid under the bristling steel. But their shields made a phalanx which did toss back our arrows as a bull tosses stubble. Against the wall did they hurl mighty stones which did come with fierce fury, and with a great beam did they batter our walls as a ram doth batter a thin hedge. For days did we withstand. I fought with mad fierceness, for she whom I loved cheered me from beneath the wall.

"Then did the enemy without the city throw balls of burning pitch. Our men did fight the fire until their hands were blistered, yet came those balls of fire. And when flames were consuming us, the gates of the city were broken and the hand of Rome did have us in its power. With many of my fellows was I taken away and made fast to a great tree near by the tent where a Roman chieftain did collect spoil. Of the lithe of limb who were taken captive, some were to be made gladiators, but the fierce screams of others of my countrymen, mingled with Roman curses, told of a more ignominious fate than the arena. For this was I marked. Fierce was the passion of my bosom that my heritage of the gods should be sacrificed on the bloody edge of a Roman knife. While yet I stood chained did my eye catch a sight that did freeze my boiling blood fast in my veins, steep my breath in curses and turn my vision to mad blackness, for into the tent of the Roman chief I saw her carried whom I loved—she who was mine.

"I tore at the chain until blood did ooze from my flesh. Aye, and the gods did see my plight. My weapons had the hand of Rome taken save a knife hid in my tunic. Shortly was I to be taken to the chief to be robbed of my armlets. Then did all the gods show me favor, for as I went into the tent the chief was called out. Save for the time an eye doth twinkle was he called out. Yet I rushed behind the curtains which did hide the maiden. Swift were my words as the falcon flies and gleaming was my blade in my hand ere the words did pass my lips. And swift as light falls, bared she her bosom, and here, on the spot where we had dreamed a little head would lie which should be ours, I drove the keen blade in deep—deep drove I the blade, kissing her lips. And she did laugh—laugh like a happy child and press her lips to mine. I drew the dagger dripping red from the heart of my Thracian love and stuck it to my bosom bidding her strike it hard. But the stroke fell short. Even as the first blood met the blade was I struck low by the sword of Rome which lay open my face. Aye, seest thou? Seest thou the face of thy slave? And when he beheld blood bubbling from my face and pumping from my breast, did the Roman chieftain laugh.

"Aye, how Rome doth love blood! Rivers of blood! Seas of blood! With the blood of my face dripping on to the blood of my breast I looked into the face of him who had laughed at my blood, and I did laugh—laugh in the face of Rome and shout with victorious shouting, 'My blood may'st thou have! Aye, from a thousand wounds may thou steal it—shout over it—drink it, if thou wilt! But never shall the hand of Rome pollute her whom I loved! Never shall the feverish lips of thy foul lust stain her sweet breathing!' Again did the chieftain smite me across the head, and darkness came. When I awoke blood was there from a third wound, yea, most noble mistress, that wound which did rob me of man's most sacred possession. Yet again did I laugh in the face of Rome, laugh with the joy of a victor and praise the gods, for around the neck of him who had smitten me would never twine the ivory arms of her I loved. Neither would the hand that had made me a thing of wood, caress the blue veined breast of her who was mine. For this I love the scar! Sweet is the scar, most noble mistress, of thy eunuch's sore scarred love! Sweet is the scar!"

During the recital of her slave's tragic story, Claudia had shown much interest. "Is there more?" she asked, when he paused.

"Yea, that which doth delight the heart of Rome—the Triumph. When as captives we first saw Rome, great was the rejoicing in the city whose sword rules the world. With garlands were the buildings gay. The streets were strewn with flowers, and the populace was robed in white. The victor came in a golden chariot with its four white horses and its stately lictors. Proud was he in purple robe and crown of laurel and he smiled as the trumpet tones of the heralds rang out and the populace shouted praise in thunderous tones. With the captives and the spoils of war came I, chained, and the rabble did shout in my face. So also did my heart shout. For far from the marble courts and gilded palaces that hid the polluted couches of helpless maidens, she who was mine rested in the dust of Thrace with the winds of the Aegean sobbing where she lay. And as these desecrators did exult, so did my heart thank the gods for the steel of my blade, the strength of my arm and the pale dead face of my love! Most noble mistress, I have done. Dost thou understand?"

"I understand thou hast been cruelly robbed," she answered.

"Yet have I not been robbed of that which maketh a man to think."

"Hast thou thoughts? What is the wisdom of thy thinking?"

"On the shores of the sea have I seen the storm make mountains of water, yet the depths were not moved from their holdings. Down from the mountains hath the wind raged and hath fought me for my mantle, which ever I held tighter. From the hand of Rome comes the sword which doth scar and rob and pollute. Yet it doth not subdue."

"This thou hast observed. What meaning hath it?"

"Even this. What the storm can not do with much thundering, the tide doeth at will. What the wind can not do with loud battling, the sun doeth in silence. What the sword can not do though blood be spilled like water, the mind of man can accomplish."

"Thou speakest wisdom. But how doth this put a light on thy scarred face?"

"A vision hath been given of a kingdom greater than that of Caesar's, wherein the bruised and beaten and scarred who toil and starve that idlers may gorge, shall be accounted greater than those who rule by the might of the sword."

Claudia crossed and recrossed the room several times after the slave spoke these words, the silence unbroken save by the tinkle of her strings of ornaments. Pausing before him she said, "As the tide is greater than the storm; as the sun is greater than the wind; as the mind of man is greater than the sword, so shall there be a kingdom greater than that of Caesar? Is this what thou sayest?"

"Not I, but the Jew that teacheth in the Temple."

"Hast heard this from his own lips?"

"Thou knowest I have not. Save as the centurion's slave hath spoken know I nothing."

Claudia bent toward the slave, so near the jewels swinging from her shoulders lay on his arm, as she whispered, "Wouldst thou hear the Jew?"

"Ah, that I might—that I might," and the sad eyes of the eunuch filled with tears.

"Thou hast my permission. Nay, even more, it is my command. Go thou daily to the Temple of the Jews and bring me word."

"Be it permitted a slave of Rome to enter the Temple of the Jews?
Sweet is one scar, but there are no others like it."

"The Tower of Antonio stands guard against the Temple and behind its frowning walls hides the arm of Rome. Into one court thou art permitted to go. Here if any say thee nay, reply thou, 'I am the property of Claudia, wife of Pilate.'"

"Thy kindness doth make my heart glad. With rejoicing will I go and come again to thee with the wisdom of the Jew."

"Keep thou thy ears open and thy mouth shut. Understandest thou? Go now. Bring wreaths of flowers. Thy master, Pilate, will soon come with Roman Senators."