Chapter 24

‘Ever seen that before?’ he asked soberly.

‘Yes—but it could be part of my dream. I’m sure you’ll not be leaving it here for me to find in the morning.’

‘No; I shall not leave it here. I may need it again.’ The courier retrieved the heavy nail, restored it to an inner pocket of his tunic, and seemed ready to depart.

‘Farewell, friend Simon,’ he said gently. ‘Tomorrow you will ride your horse to Alexandria, where you will find a ship embarking for Joppa. This will shorten your trip. I shall see you on the Day of Pentecost…Mid-forenoon—at the Coppersmiths’ Guildhall.’

Simon chuckled a little.

‘This is the strangest dream I ever had,’ he mumbled. ‘It seems impossible that I could have invented so many things I never saw before…I’m sure I never saw anybody like you!…By the way—what is that golden device on your tunic?’

‘It is the crest of the Master’s Kingdom.’

‘Come closer,’ said Simon. ‘Let me see it plainly.’

‘What does it resemble?’ asked the courier, bending over the cot.

Simon frowned and shuddered.

‘I should never have chosen that ugly, cruel thing as an ornament!’ he muttered.

‘Simon,’ murmured the courier, impressively, ‘that device is destined to become the most beautiful emblem in the world!’ And with that, he mounted and rode out of the Cyrenian’s fantastic dream.

Again Simon slept, a sleep so deep as to be deathlike. It was broad daylight when he awoke, dazed by the recollection of having had an eventful dream. He heard the cheerful voices of his men as they dismantled and packed their tents for the final journey home. He wondered if they would notice, in his face, any evidences of his bewilderment. He must pull himself together—and try to forget about it.

Throwing open the door of his tent, he beckoned to his body-servant, who came running with a basin of water and an armful of towels. Simon plunged his bearded face into the basin and splashed the sleep out of his eyes.

‘How did you hurt your hand, sir?’ asked the servant. ‘There’s blood on it.’

Simon gazed intently into his right hand. A broad bloodstain diagonally transversed his palm. He dipped it into the basin and scrubbed it vigorously, but the stain was indelible. The servant stared hard, but ventured no comment when he observed that his master’s hands were trembling…The butler now appeared with a breakfast tray and stood ready to serve.

‘Take it away,’ ordered Simon huskily, ‘and bid Enos come to me.’

It was obvious that the butler had been disturbed by his master’s strange manner; for when the steward arrived his wide eyes showed concern.

‘Enos,’ said Simon, ‘I find that I must return at once to Jerusalem. You will take the caravan home. I shall ride to Alexandria and take passage on a ship.’

‘Are—are you well, sir?’ stammered Enos. ‘Perhaps I should go with you.’

‘I am quite well, Enos. Notify my family that when my errand in Jerusalem has been accomplished I shall return…Order my horse. I shall leave directly.’

The loyal steward reluctantly turned to do as he was bidden. At the tent-door he paused to say, ‘But you have been injured, sir! There is blood on your hand!’

‘Be at ease, my good Enos,’ said Simon quietly. ‘I have not been injured. That is not my blood.’

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