A sentry dropped his spear across her path and she had not the countersign to give him.  There she and her helpless old attendant stood and looked hopelessly at the refuge denied them.

Presently a man appeared in the colonnade across the front of the house and descending to the sentry line called to him the officer in command.  They stood within a few paces of Laodice and she heard the soldier address the man as John, and heard him deliver a report of the day.

When the soldier withdrew to his place, Laodice stepped forward and called to the Gischalan.  He stopped, noted that she was beautiful and waited.

“I would speak with the Lady Amaryllis,” she hesitated.

“Have you the countersign?” he asked.

“No; else I should have entered.  But Amaryllis will know me.”

“Enter then,” the Gischalan said.

In a moment she was admitted at the solid doors and led into a vestibule.  Here, a porter took charge of Momus and showed him into a side passage, while Laodice followed her conductor through a corridor into an interior hall of splendid simplicity.  Lounging on an exedra was a young woman in a woolen chiton, barefoot and trifling with the Greek ampyx that bound her golden hair.

Laodice put up her veil and looked with hurrying heart at her hostess.  Before she could get a preliminary idea of the woman she was to meet, John spoke lightly: 

“Be wearied no longer.  I have brought you a mystery—­a stranger, without the countersign, asking audience with you.”

“Go back to the fortress,” the young woman answered.  “Sometime you will find strangers awaiting you there, also without the password.  You will lose Jerusalem trifling with me.  I have spoken!”

John filliped her ear as he passed through into a corridor which must have led into the Temple precincts.  Under the light, Laodice saw that he was a middle-aged Jew, not handsome, but luxuriant with virility.  His face showed great ability with no conscience, and force and charm without balance or morals.  Here, then, thought Laodice, is the first of Philadelphus’ enemies.

The idler in the exedra, meanwhile, was awaiting the speech of her visitor.

“Art thou she whom I seek?” Laodice asked.  “Amaryllis, the Seleucid?”

“I am called by that name.”

“I was bidden,” Laodice continued, “by one whom we both know, to seek asylum with thee.”

“So?  Who may that be?”

Laodice whispered the name.

“Philadelphus Maccabaeus.”

The Greek’s eyes took on a puzzled look.  Then she surveyed the girl and as a full conception of the beauty of the young creature before her formed in the Greek’s mind, the perplexity left her expression.  Her air changed; a subtle smile played about her lips.

“He sent you to me for protection?”

“Until he arrives in Jerusalem,” Laodice assented.

“But he is already here.”