Free The Silver Chalice by Thomas B. Costain

of reluctance: “There are such cases all over the world. Much as we may want to help them, it is out of our power. The good friend in Jerusalem is a man of wealth, but we are making heavy demands on him now and I can see no reason for pressing the case of this poor child on his attention. It has cost a great deal more to buy your freedom than he had expected.”
    “Her freedom would take a very small sum,” urged Basil. “Then she could have proper care for—for as long as she has to live. I know it is asking too much. But in all truth, I find it hard to persuade myself to go without her. Could there not be a miracle?”
    “We may pray for a miracle, you and I.” The physician ran his fingers thoughtfully over his long beard. “All I can say beyond that is that I will speak about it when I follow you to Jerusalem. The man in question has a kind heart, and he might be persuaded to do as you wish.” He nodded his head slowly. “And now, are you ready, my son?”
    Basil did not need further urging. “I have nothing to take,” he said, springing to his feet. “A slave has no possessions. I wish there had been time to wash myself properly. I have had no chance here to keep myself clean.”
    “Where I take you,” said Luke, “there will be a warm bath and a fresh linen tunic for you to don.” He picked up the candle and raised it above his head for a closer survey of this youth on whom his choice had fallen. He seemed pleased at what he saw. “I think the gentle old man in Jerusalem will be in accord with what I have done, even though it has been a somewhat costly transaction.”
    Basil walked to the window and threw back the dirt-encrusted curtain. “It will be safer for us to leave by the roof,” he said.
    A change came over his visitor. Luke seemed to grow visibly taller. The human kindliness of his eyes disappeared and they became instead like deep and mysterious pools. He had denied that he communed with angels, but at this moment he seemed to have taken on himself the outward guide of a messenger from the world of the spirit.
    “Listen to me, my son,” he said. His voice also had changed and it now carried a deep and commanding tone. “It is not necessary for us to run away from danger. I shall walk down the stairs and through the door to the street, and you must follow me. It will not matter if that evil man Linus has placed assassins outside the house to do you harm. We shall walk through them unscathed as Daniel when he stood in the den of the lions.” He laid a hand on the boy’s arm and urged him toward the stairs. “Have no fear. We do not go alone. The Lord will go with us.”

CHAPTER II

1
    T HE HEAT had been intense on the road to Aleppo and yet, curiously enough, there had been something almost of benevolence about it, as though its sole purpose was to be good to living creatures, even to men. The old city had appeared at a distance like a saffron concoction on a shallow platter of green held out in welcome by the bronze hands of the gods of the hills. On close inspection the town proved to be a baffling maze of narrow lanes with astonishing bazaars comparable only to Time, which has no beginning and no end. Basil, child of the Ward of the Trades, lost himself in these vastnesses and only through the help of a beggar, whose sores were honest, found his way back, late and shamefaced, to the great khan inside the Antioch Gate.
    He was there in time to witness the belated arrival of Adam ben Asher, to whom they had been directed. The latter proved to be a study in incongruities; a figure of bulging girth and yet obviously as tough as leather; his skin blackened by desert suns and his eyebrows the bushiest of black penthouses, while his lively and roving eyes were of a most unusual shade of gray. Contrasts were to be observed also in the matter of his dress. With a flowing tunic bearing the red stripe of the desert nomad, he wore high-laced shoes that suggested a Greek dandy and a belt that