The Silver Chalice Read Online Free PDF

how much I love you.”
    “Yes,” she said with quick eagerness. “I know that. But—but, my son, things will be different now. You will be the master. Will you love me enough still to be kind? As kind as
he
was?”
    “I can never be anything but kind to you.”
    “It is easy to say such things.” Her voice rose until it reached an almost shrill note. “But men change so much when they find all thewealth and power in their hands. I’ve seen it happen. My own father was like that, and then my brother. I was happy indeed when I found favor in the eyes of my husband and so escaped from the tutelage of my older brother. And now—and now—how can I be sure?”
    Basil could not understand her anxiety. Why should she be so apprehensive of a change in his attitude? She had brought some wealth of her own when she wedded Ignatius. As his widow she would surely share in the estate. What hold could he have over her now?
    He decided to discuss the point with Quintus Annius. The Roman was so capable in all things that his employer had once said of him, “This young man knows more than all the poets put together—I sometimes think he knows everything.” Quintus had always been too busy to spare much time for the dreamy son of the family, but there had been an instinctive liking between them that both had recognized.
    He found the secretary in the cubicle he used for his work. It opened unobtrusively off the magnificent circular room where Ignatius had received callers. The stone walls were lined with shelves, where papyrus rolls and written records bulged. The small marble-topped table was bare save for a document or two; and, for the first time perhaps since he had assumed his duties, Quintus was doing nothing. To his astonishment, Basil detected in him some of the hesitation and fear his mother had shown.
    “You also?” he exclaimed. “Am I so much to be feared? I have just left my mother, who seems to think I will turn into a household tyrant. And now I suspect you of the same thought.”
    “Why are you surprised?” asked the secretary. “Don’t you know what happens to widows who live under the law of the Twelve Tables? They are not recognized as human beings with rights of their own. Even when the widow has property she passes at once under the tutelage of the new head of the
gens
, the family. He may dispose of her property as he sees fit. He may refuse her the right to marry again if she has any such desire. On the other hand, he may make it hard for her to refuse a second husband of his own choosing. I hear that in some Eastern countries it is the custom to burn widows alive on the funeral pyres of their dead husbands. It sounds barbarous, but I sometimes wonder if it isn’t kinder than our way.”
    Basil took a seat on the other side of the table and regarded his companion with a worried frown. It was a stifling hot day and his bodily discomfort equaled the mental distress he was feeling.
    “I have heard a little about such matters, but I confess I gave them no serious thought,” he said. He dipped his hands in a bowl of water standing beside the table and laved his face slowly. “I begin to see, Quintus, that I have much to learn.”
    “Much indeed, my master,” answered Quintus. It was clear that he had some hesitation about pursuing the topic further. After a brief delay, however, he added: “You are in need of advice. There are pitfalls which perhaps you do not see.”
    The legally adopted son of the family had never questioned the future. It was easy enough to see the possibility of pitfalls for others, but how could they exist in his own carefully cleared path?
    He leaned forward and placed his forearms on the cool marble of the table.
    “To what do you refer?” he asked. “Do you expect—legal difficulties?”
    When Quintus did not answer at once, Basil, whose mind, once aroused, was quick and aggressive, began to understand the difficulty in which his father’s assistant now found himself. If