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diff --git a/5175-h/5175-h.htm b/5175-h/5175-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..dd5f340 --- /dev/null +++ b/5175-h/5175-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,19974 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Pearl-Maiden, by H. Rider Haggard</title> +<link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> +<style type="text/css"> + +body { margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + text-align: justify; } + +h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: +normal; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;} + +h1 {font-size: 300%; + margin-top: 0.6em; + margin-bottom: 0.6em; + letter-spacing: 0.12em; + word-spacing: 0.2em; + text-indent: 0em;} +h2 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +h3 {font-size: 130%; margin-top: 1em;} +h4 {font-size: 120%;} +h5 {font-size: 110%;} + +.no-break {page-break-before: avoid;} /* for epubs */ + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} + +hr {width: 80%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + +p {text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-bottom: 0.25em; } + +.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} + +p.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: 90%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +p.footnote {font-size: 90%; + text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +div.fig { display:block; + margin:0 auto; + text-align:center; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em;} + +a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:hover {color:red} + +</style> + +</head> + +<body> + +<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Pearl-Maiden, by H. Rider Haggard</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online +at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Pearl-Maiden<br /> +A Tale Of The Fall of Jerusalem</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: H. Rider Haggard</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: May 29, 2002 [eBook #5175]<br /> +[Most recently updated: June 21, 2021]</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: John Bickers, Dagny and David Widger</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PEARL-MAIDEN ***</div> + +<div class="fig" style="width:55%;"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="[Illustration]" /> +</div> + +<h1>Pearl-Maiden</h1> + +<h3>A Tale Of The Fall of Jerusalem</h3> + +<h2 class="no-break">by H. Rider Haggard</h2> + +<h3>First Published 1901.</h3> + +<hr /> + +<h2>Contents</h2> + +<table summary="" style=""> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap01">CHAPTER I. THE PRISON AT CÆSAREA</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap02">CHAPTER II. THE VOICE OF A GOD</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap03">CHAPTER III. THE GRAIN STORE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap04">CHAPTER IV. THE BIRTH OF MIRIAM</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap05">CHAPTER V. MIRIAM IS ENTHRONED</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap06">CHAPTER VI. CALEB</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap07">CHAPTER VII. MARCUS</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap08">CHAPTER VIII. MARCUS AND CALEB</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap09">CHAPTER IX. THE JUSTICE OF FLORUS</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap10">CHAPTER X. BENONI</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap11">CHAPTER XI. THE ESSENES LOSE THEIR QUEEN</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap12">CHAPTER XII. THE RING, THE NECKLACE AND THE LETTER</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap13">CHAPTER XIII. WOE, WOE TO JERUSALEM</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap14">CHAPTER XIV. THE ESSENES FIND THEIR QUEEN AGAIN</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap15">CHAPTER XV. WHAT PASSED IN THE TOWER</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap16">CHAPTER XVI. THE SANHEDRIM</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap17">CHAPTER XVII. THE GATE OF NICANOR</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap18">CHAPTER XVIII. THE DEATH-STRUGGLE OF ISRAEL</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap19">CHAPTER XIX. PEARL-MAIDEN</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap20">CHAPTER XX. THE MERCHANT DEMETRIUS</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap21">CHAPTER XXI. THE CÆSARS AND PRINCE DOMITIAN</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap22">CHAPTER XXII. THE TRIUMPH</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap23">CHAPTER XXIII. THE SLAVE-RING</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap24">CHAPTER XXIV. MASTER AND SLAVE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap25">CHAPTER XXV. THE REWARD OF SATURIUS</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap26">CHAPTER XXVI. THE JUDGMENT OF DOMITIAN</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap27">CHAPTER XXVII. THE BISHOP CYRIL</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap28">CHAPTER XXVIII. THE LAMP</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap29">CHAPTER XXIX. HOW MARCUS CHANGED HIS FAITH</a></td> +</tr> + +</table> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h4>TO GLADYS CHRISTIAN A DWELLER IN THE EAST<br/> +THIS EASTERN TALE IS DEDICATED<br/> +BY HER OWN AND<br/> +HER FATHER’S FRIEND<br/> +<br/> +THE AUTHOR<br/> +Ditchingham: September 14, 1902.<br/> +<br/> +</h4> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>PEARL-MAIDEN</h2> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap01"></a>CHAPTER I<br/> +THE PRISON AT CÆSAREA</h2> + +<p> +It was but two hours after midnight, yet many were wakeful in Cæsarea on the +Syrian coast. Herod Agrippa, King of all Palestine—by grace of the +Romans—now at the very apex of his power, celebrated a festival in honour +of the Emperor Claudius, to which had flocked all the mightiest in the land and +tens of thousands of the people. The city was full of them, their camps were +set upon the sea-beach and for miles around; there was no room at the inns or +in the private houses, where guests slept upon the roofs, the couches, the +floors, and in the gardens. The great town hummed like a hive of bees disturbed +after sunset, and though the louder sounds of revelling had died away, parties +of feasters, many of them still crowned with fading roses, passed along the +streets shouting and singing to their lodgings. As they went, they +discussed—those of them who were sufficiently sober—the incidents +of that day’s games in the great circus, and offered or accepted odds +upon the more exciting events of the morrow. +</p> + +<p> +The captives in the prison that was set upon a little hill, a frowning building +of brown stone, divided into courts and surrounded by a high wall and a ditch, +could hear the workmen at their labours in the amphitheatre below. These sounds +interested them, since many of those who listened were doomed to take a leading +part in the spectacle of this new day. In the outer court, for instance, were a +hundred men called malefactors, for the most part Jews convicted of various +political offences. These were to fight against twice their number of savage +Arabs of the desert taken in a frontier raid, people whom to-day we should know +as Bedouins, mounted and armed with swords and lances, but wearing no mail. The +malefactor Jews, by way of compensation, were to be protected with heavy armour +and ample shields. Their combat was to last for twenty minutes by the +sand-glass, when, unless they had shown cowardice, those who were left alive of +either party were to receive their freedom. Indeed, by a kindly decree the King +Agrippa, a man who did not seek unnecessary bloodshed, contrary to custom, even +the wounded were to be spared, that is, if any would undertake the care of +them. Under these circumstances, since life is sweet, all had determined to +fight their best. +</p> + +<p> +In another division of the great hall was collected a very different company. +There were not more than fifty or sixty of these, so the wide arches of the +surrounding cloisters gave them sufficient shelter and even privacy. With the +exception of eight or ten men, all of them old, or well on in middle age, since +the younger and more vigorous males had been carefully drafted to serve as +gladiators, this little band was made of women and a few children. They +belonged to the new sect called Christians, the followers of one Jesus, who, +according to report, was crucified as a troublesome person by the governor, +Pontius Pilate, a Roman official, who in due course had been banished to Gaul, +where he was said to have committed suicide. In his day Pilate was unpopular in +Judæa, for he had taken the treasures of the Temple at Jerusalem to build +waterworks, causing a tumult in which many were killed. Now he was almost +forgotten, but very strangely, the fame of this crucified demagogue, Jesus, +seemed to grow, since there were many who made a kind of god of him, preaching +doctrines in his name that were contrary to the law and offensive to every sect +of the Jews. +</p> + +<p> +Pharisees, Sadducees, Zealots, Levites, priests, all called out against them. +All besought Agrippa that he would be rid of them, these apostates who profaned +the land and proclaimed in the ears of a nation awaiting its Messiah, that +Heaven-born King who should break the Roman yoke and make Jerusalem the capital +of the world, that this Messiah had come already in the guise of an itinerant +preacher, and perished with other malefactors by the death of shame. +</p> + +<p> +Wearied with their importunities, the King listened. Like the cultivated Romans +with whom he associated, Agrippa had no real religion. At Jerusalem he +embellished the Temple and made offerings to Jehovah; at Berytus he embellished +the temple and made offerings there to Jupiter. He was all things to all men +and to himself—nothing but a voluptuous time-server. As for these +Christians, he never troubled himself about them. Why should he? They were few +and insignificant, no single man of rank or wealth was to be found among them. +To persecute them was easy, and—it pleased the Jews. Therefore he +persecuted them. One James, a disciple of the crucified man called Christ, who +had wandered about the country with him, he seized and beheaded at Jerusalem. +Another, called Peter, a powerful preacher, he threw into prison, and of their +followers he slew many. A few of these were given over to be stoned by the +Jews, but the pick of the men were forced to fight as gladiators at Berytus and +elsewhere. The women, if young and beautiful, were sold as slaves, but if +matrons or aged, they were cast to the wild beasts in the circus. +</p> + +<p> +Such was the fate, indeed, that was reserved for these poor victims in the +prison on this very day of the opening of our history. After the gladiators had +fought and the other games had been celebrated, sixty Christians, it was +announced, old and useless men, married women and young children whom nobody +would buy, were to be turned down in the great amphitheatre. Then thirty fierce +lions, with other savage beasts, made ravenous by hunger and mad with the smell +of blood, were to be let loose among them. Even in this act of justice, +however, Agrippa suffered it to be seen that he was gentle-hearted, since of +his kindness he had decreed that any whom the lions refused to eat were to be +given clothes, a small sum of money, and released to settle their differences +with the Jews as they might please. +</p> + +<p> +Such was the state of public feeling and morals in the Roman world of that day, +that this spectacle of the feeding of starved beasts with live women and +children, whose crime was that they worshipped a crucified man and would offer +sacrifice to no other god, either in the Temple or elsewhere, was much looked +forward to by the population of Cæsarea. Indeed, great sums of money were +ventured upon the event, by means of what to-day would be called sweepstakes, +under the regulations of which he who drew the ticket marked with the exact +number of those whom the lions left alive, would take the first prize. Already +some far-seeing gamblers who had drawn low numbers, had bribed the soldiers and +wardens to sprinkle the hair and garments of the Christians with valerian +water, a decoction which was supposed to attract and excite the appetite of +these great cats. Others, whose tickets were high, paid handsomely for the +employment of artifices which need not be detailed, calculated to induce in the +lions aversion to the subject that had been treated. The Christian woman or +child, it will be observed, who was to form the <i>corpus vile</i> of these +ingenious experiments, was not considered, except, indeed, as the fisherman +considers the mussel or the sand-worm on his hook. +</p> + +<p> +Under an arch by themselves, and not far from the great gateway where the +guards, their lances in hand, could be seen pacing up and down, sat two women. +The contrast in the appearance of this pair was very striking. One, who could +not have been much more than twenty years of age, was a Jewess, too thin-faced +for beauty, but with dark and lovely eyes, and bearing in every limb and +feature the stamp of noble blood. She was Rachel, the widow of Demas, a +Græco-Syrian, and only child of the high-born Jew Benoni, one of the richest +merchants in Tyre. The other was a woman of remarkable aspect, apparently about +forty years of age. She was a native of the coasts of Libya, where she had been +kidnapped as a girl by Jewish traders, and by them passed on to Phœnicians, +who sold her upon the slave market of Tyre. In fact she was a high-bred Arab +without any admixture of negro blood, as was shown by her copper-coloured skin, +prominent cheek bones, her straight, black, abundant hair, and untamed, +flashing eyes. In frame she was tall and spare, very agile, and full of grace +in every movement. Her face was fierce and hard; even in her present dreadful +plight she showed no fear, only when she looked at the lady by her side it grew +anxious and tender. She was called Nehushta, a name which Benoni had given her +when many years ago he bought her upon the market-place. In Hebrew Nehushta +means copper, and this new slave was copper-coloured. In her native land, +however, she had another name, Nou, and by this name she was known to her dead +mistress, the wife of Benoni, and to his daughter Rachel, whom she had nursed +from childhood. +</p> + +<p> +The moon shone very brightly in a clear sky, and by the light of it an +observer, had there been any to observe where all were so occupied with their +own urgent affairs, could have watched every movement and expression of these +women. Rachel, seated on the ground, was rocking herself to and fro, her face +hidden in her hands, and praying. Nehushta knelt at her side, resting the +weight of her body on her heels as only an Eastern can, and stared sullenly at +nothingness. +</p> + +<p> +Presently Rachel, dropping her hands, looked at the tender sky and sighed. +</p> + +<p> +“Our last night on earth, Nou,” she said sadly. “It is +strange to think that we shall never again see the moon floating above +us.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why not, mistress? If all that we have been taught is true, we shall see +that moon, or others, for ever and ever, and if it is not true, then neither +light nor darkness will trouble us any more. However, for my own part I +don’t mean that either of us should die to-morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +“How can you prevent it, Nou?” asked Rachel with a faint smile. +“Lions are no respecters of persons.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yet, mistress, I think that they will respect my person, and yours, too, +for my sake.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean, Nou?” +</p> + +<p> +“I mean that I do not fear the lions; they are country-folk of mine and +roared round my cradle. The chief, my father, was called Master of Lions in our +country because he could tame them. Why, when I was a little child I have fed +them and they fawned upon us like dogs.” +</p> + +<p> +“Those lions are long dead, Nou, and the others will not remember.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am not sure that they are dead; at least, blood will call to blood, +and their company will know the smell of the child of the Master of Lions. +Whoever is eaten, we shall escape.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have no such hope, Nou. To-morrow we must die horribly, that King +Agrippa may do honour to his master, Cæsar.” +</p> + +<p> +“If you think that, mistress, then let us die at once rather than be rent +limb from limb to give pleasure to a stinking mob. See, I have poison hidden +here in my hair. Let us drink of it and be done: it is swift and +painless.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, Nou, it would not be right. I may lift no hand against my own life, +or if perchance I may, I have to think of another life.” +</p> + +<p> +“If you die, the unborn child must die also. To-night or to-morrow, what +does it matter?” +</p> + +<p> +“Sufficient to the day is the evil thereof. Who knows? To-morrow Agrippa +may be dead, not us, and then the child might live. It is in the hand of God. +Let God decide.” +</p> + +<p> +“Lady,” answered Nehushta, setting her teeth, “for your sake +I have become a Christian, yes, and I believe. But I tell you this—while +I live no lion’s fangs shall tear that dear flesh of yours. First if need +be, I will stab you there in the arena, or if they take my knife from me, then +I will choke you, or dash out your brains against the posts.” +</p> + +<p> +“It may be a sin, Nou; take no such risk upon your soul.” +</p> + +<p> +“My soul! What do I care about my soul? You are my soul. Your mother was +kind to me, the poor slave-girl, and when you were an infant, I rocked you upon +my breast. I spread your bride-bed, and if need be, to save you from worse +things, I will lay you dead before me and myself dead across your body. Then +let God or Satan—I care not which—deal with my soul. At least, I +shall have done my best and died faithful.” +</p> + +<p> +“You should not speak so,” sighed Rachel. “But, dear, I know +it is because you love me, and I wish to die as easily as may be and to join my +husband. Only if the child could have lived, as I think, all three of us would +have dwelt together eternally. Nay, not all three, all four, for you are +well-nigh as dear to me, Nou, as husband or as child.” +</p> + +<p> +“That cannot be, I do not wish that it should be, who am but a slave +woman, the dog beneath the table. Oh! if I could save you, then I would be glad +to show them how this daughter of my father can bear their torments.” +</p> + +<p> +The Libyan ceased, grinding her teeth in impotent rage. Then suddenly she leant +towards her mistress, kissed her fiercely on the cheek and began to sob, slow, +heavy sobs. +</p> + +<p> +“Listen,” said Rachel. “The lions are roaring in their dens +yonder.” +</p> + +<p> +Nehushta lifted her head and hearkened as a hunter hearkens in the desert. True +enough, from near the great tower that ended the southern wall of the +amphitheatre, echoed short, coughing notes and fierce whimperings, to be +followed presently by roar upon roar, as lion after lion joined in that fearful +music, till the whole air shook with the volume of their voices. +</p> + +<p> +“Aha!” cried a keeper at the gate—not the Roman soldier who +marched to and fro unconcernedly, but a jailor, named Rufus, who was clad in a +padded robe and armed with a great knife. “Aha! listen to them, the +pretty kittens. Don’t be greedy, little ones—be patient. To-night +you will purr upon a full stomach.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nine of them,” muttered Nehushta, who had counted the roars, +“all bearded and old, royal beasts. To hearken to them makes me young +again. Yes, yes, I smell the desert and see the smoke rising from my +father’s tents. As a child I hunted them, now they will hunt me; it is +their hour.” +</p> + +<p> +“Give me air! I faint!” gasped Rachel, sinking against her. +</p> + +<p> +With a guttural exclamation of pity Nehushta bent down. Placing her strong arms +beneath the slender form of her young mistress, and lifting her as though she +were a child, she carried her to the centre of the court, where stood a +fountain; for before it was turned to the purposes of a jail once this place +had been a palace. Here she set her mistress on the ground with her back +against the stonework, and dashed water in her face till presently she was +herself again. +</p> + +<p> +While Rachel sat thus—for the place was cool and pleasant and she could +not sleep who must die that day—a wicket-gate was opened and several +persons, men, women, and children, were thrust through it into the court. +</p> + +<p> +“Newcomers from Tyre in a great hurry not to lose the lions’ +party,” cried the facetious warden of the gate. “Pass in, my +Christian friends, pass in and eat your last supper according to your customs. +You will find it over there, bread and wine in plenty. Eat, my hungry friends, +eat before you are eaten and enter into Heaven or—the stomach of the +lions.” +</p> + +<p> +An old woman, the last of the party, for she could not walk fast, turned round +and pointed at the buffoon with her staff. +</p> + +<p> +“Blaspheme not, you heathen dog!” she said, “or rather, +blaspheme on and go to your reward! I, Anna, who have the gift of prophecy, +tell you, renegade who were a Christian, and therefore are doubly guilty, that +<i>you</i> have eaten your last meal—on earth.” +</p> + +<p> +The man, a half-bred Syrian who had abandoned his faith for profit and now +tormented those who were once his brethren, uttered a furious curse and +snatched a knife from his girdle. +</p> + +<p> +“You draw the knife? So be it, perish by the knife!” said Anna. +Then without heeding him further the old woman hobbled on after her companions, +leaving the man to slink away white to the lips with terror. He had been a +Christian and knew something of Anna and of this “gift of +prophecy.” +</p> + +<p> +The path of these strangers led them past the fountain, where Rachel and +Nehushta rose to greet them as they came. +</p> + +<p> +“Peace be with you,” said Rachel. +</p> + +<p> +“In the name of Christ, peace,” they answered, and passed on +towards the arches where the other captives were gathered. Last of all, at some +distance behind the rest, came the white-haired woman, leaning on her staff. +</p> + +<p> +As she approached, Rachel turned to repeat her salutation, then uttered a +little cry and said: +</p> + +<p> +“Mother Anna, do you not know me, Rachel, the daughter of Benoni?” +</p> + +<p> +“Rachel!” she answered, starting. “Alas! child, how came you +here?” +</p> + +<p> +“By the paths that we Christians have to tread, mother,” said +Rachel, sadly. “But sit; you are weary. Nou, help her.” +</p> + +<p> +Anna nodded, and slowly, for her limbs were stiff, sank down on to the step of +the fountain. +</p> + +<p> +“Give me to drink, child,” she said, “for I have been brought +upon a mule from Tyre, and am athirst.” +</p> + +<p> +Rachel made her hands into a cup, for she had no other, and held water to +Anna’s lips, which she drank greedily, emptying them many times. +</p> + +<p> +“For this refreshment, God be praised. What said you? The daughter of +Benoni a Christian! Well, even here and now, for that God be praised also. +Strange that I should not have heard of it; but I have been in Jerusalem these +two years, and was brought back to Tyre last Sabbath as a prisoner.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Mother, and since then I have become both wife and widow.” +</p> + +<p> +“Whom did you marry, child?” +</p> + +<p> +“Demas, the merchant. They killed him in the amphitheatre yonder at +Berytus six months ago,” and the poor woman began to sob. +</p> + +<p> +“I heard of his end,” replied Anna. “It was a good and noble +one, and his soul rests in Heaven. He would not fight with the gladiators, so +he was beheaded by order of Agrippa. But cease weeping, child, and tell me your +story. We have little time for tears, who, perhaps, soon will have done with +them.” +</p> + +<p> +Rachel dried her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“It is short and sad,” she said. “Demas and I met often and +learned to love each other. My father was no friend to him, for they were +rivals in trade, but in those days knowing no better, Demas followed the faith +of the Jews; therefore, because he was rich my father consented to our +marriage, and they became partners in their business. Afterwards, within a +month indeed, the Apostles came to Tyre, and we attended their +preaching—at first, because we were curious to learn the truth of this +new faith against which my father railed, for, as you know, he is of the +strictest sect of the Jews; and then, because our hearts were touched. So in +the end we believed, and were baptised, both on one night, by the very hand of +the brother of the Lord. The holy Apostles departed, blessing us before they +went, and Demas, who would play no double part, told my father of what we had +done. Oh! mother, it was awful to see. He raved, shouted and cursed us in his +rage, blaspheming Him we worship. More, woe is me that I should have to tell +it: When we refused to become apostates he denounced us to the priests, and the +priests denounced us to the Romans, and we were seized and thrown into prison; +but my husband’s wealth, most of it except that which the priests and +Romans stole, stayed with my father. For many months we were held in prison +here in Cæsarea; then they took my husband to Berytus, to be trained as a +gladiator, and murdered him. Here I have stayed since with this beloved +servant, Nehushta, who also became a Christian and shared our fate, and now, by +the decree of Agrippa, it is my turn and hers to die to-day.” +</p> + +<p> +“Child, you should not weep for that; nay, you should be glad who at once +will find your husband and your Saviour.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mother, I am glad; but, you see my state. It is for the child’s +sake I weep, that now never will be born. Had it won life even for an hour all +of us would have dwelt together in bliss until eternity. But it cannot +be—it cannot be.” +</p> + +<p> +Anna looked at her with her piercing eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you, then, also the gift of prophecy, child, who are so young a +member of the Church, that you dare to say that this or that cannot be? The +future is in the hand of God. King Agrippa, your father, the Romans, the cruel +Jews, those lions that roar yonder, and we who are doomed to feed them, are all +in the hand of God, and that which He wills shall befall, and no other thing. +Therefore, let us praise Him and rejoice, and take no thought for the morrow, +unless it be to pray that we may die and go hence to our Master, rather than +live on in doubts and terrors and tribulations.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are right, mother,” answered Rachel, “and I will try to +be brave, whatever may befall; but my state makes me feeble. The spirit, truly, +is willing, but oh! the flesh is weak. Listen, they call us to partake of the +Sacrament of the Lord—our last on earth”; and rising, she began to +walk towards the arches. +</p> + +<p> +Nehushta stayed to help Anna to her feet. When she judged her mistress to be +out of hearing she leaned down and whispered: +</p> + +<p> +“Mother, you have the gift; it is known throughout the Church. Tell me, +will the child be born?” +</p> + +<p> +The old woman fixed her eyes upon the heavens, then answered, slowly: +</p> + +<p> +“The child will be born and live out its life, and I think that none of +us are doomed to die this day by the jaws of lions, though some of us may die +in another fashion. But I think also that your mistress goes very shortly to +join her husband. Therefore it was that I showed her nothing of what came into +my mind.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then it is best that I should die also, and die I will.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wherefore?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because I go to wait upon my mistress.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, Nehushta,” answered Anna, sternly, “you stay to guard +her child, whereof when all these earthly things are done you must give account +to her.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap02"></a>CHAPTER II<br/> +THE VOICE OF A GOD</h2> + +<p> +Of all the civilisations whose records lie open to the student, that of Rome is +surely one of the most wonderful. Nowhere, not even in old Mexico, was high +culture so completely wedded to the lowest barbarism. Intellect Rome had in +plenty; the noblest efforts of her genius are scarcely to be surpassed; her law +is the foundation of the best of our codes of jurisprudence; art she borrowed +but appreciated; her military system is still the wonder of the world; her +great men remain great among a multitude of subsequent competitors. And yet how +pitiless she was! What a tigress! Amid all the ruins of her cities we find none +of a hospital, none, I believe, of an orphan school in an age that made many +orphans. The pious aspirations and efforts of individuals seem never to have +touched the conscience of the people. Rome incarnate had no conscience; she was +a lustful, devouring beast, made more bestial by her intelligence and +splendour. +</p> + +<p> +King Agrippa in practice was a Roman. Rome was his model, her ideals were his +ideals. Therefore he built amphitheatres in which men were butchered, to the +exquisite delight of vast audiences. Therefore, also, without the excuse of any +conscientious motive, however insufficient or unsatisfactory, he persecuted the +weak because they were weak and their sufferings would give pleasure to the +strong or to those who chanced to be the majority of the moment. +</p> + +<p> +The season being hot it was arranged that the great games in honour of the +safety of Cæsar, should open each day at dawn and come to an end an hour before +noon. Therefore from midnight onwards crowds of spectators poured into the +amphitheatre, which, although it would seat over twenty thousand, was not large +enough to contain them all. An hour before the dawn the place was full, and +already late comers were turned back from its gates. The only empty spaces were +those reserved for the king, his royal guests, the rulers of the city, with +other distinguished personages, and for the Christian company of old men, women +and children destined to the lions, who, it was arranged, were to sit in full +view of the audience until the time came for them to take their share in the +spectacle. +</p> + +<p> +When Rachel joined the other captives she found that a long rough table had +been set beneath the arcades, and on it at intervals, pieces of bread and cups +and vases containing wine of the country that had been purchased at a great +price from the guards. Round this table the elders or the infirm among the +company were seated on a bench, while the rest of the number, for whom there +was not room, stood behind them. At its head was an old man, a bishop among the +Christians, one of the five hundred who had seen the risen Lord and received +baptism from the hands of the Beloved Disciple. For some years he had been +spared by the persecutors of the infant Church on account of his age, dignity, +and good repute, but now at last fate seemed to have overtaken him. +</p> + +<p> +The service was held; the bread and wine, mixed with water, were consecrated +with the same texts by which they are blessed to-day, only the prayers were +extempore. When all had eaten from the platters and drunk from the rude cups, +the bishop gave his blessing to the community. Then he addressed them. This, he +told them, was an occasion of peculiar joy, a love-feast indeed, since all they +who partook of it were about to lay down the burden of the flesh and, their +labours and sorrows ended, to depart into bliss eternal. He called to their +memory the supper of the Passover which had taken place within the lifetime of +many of them, when the Author and Finisher of their faith had declared to the +disciples that He would drink no more wine till He drank it new with them in +His kingdom. Such a feast it was that lay spread before them this night. Let +them be thankful for it. Let them not quail in the hour of trial. The fangs of +the savage beasts, the shouts of the still more savage spectators, the agony of +the quivering flesh, the last terror of their departing, what were these? Soon, +very soon, they would be done; the spears of the soldiers would despatch the +injured, and those among them whom it was ordained should escape, would be set +free by the command of the representative of Cæsar, that they might prosecute +the work till the hour came for them to pass on the torch of redemption to +other hands. Let them rejoice, therefore, and be very thankful, and walk to the +sacrifice as to a wedding feast. “Do you not rejoice, my brethren?” +he asked. With one voice they answered, “We rejoice!” Yes, even the +children answered thus. +</p> + +<p> +Then they prayed again, and again with uplifted hands the old man blessed them +in the holy Triune Name. +</p> + +<p> +Scarcely had this service, as solemn as it was simple, been brought to an end +when the head jailer, whose blasphemous jocosity since his reproof by Anna was +replaced by a mien of sullen venom, came forward and commanded the whole band +to march to the amphitheatre. Accordingly, two by two, the bishop leading the +way with the sainted woman Anna, they walked to the gates. Here a guard of +soldiers was waiting to receive them, and under their escort they threaded the +narrow, darkling streets till they came to that door of the amphitheatre which +was used by those who were to take part in the games. Now, at a word from the +bishop, they began to chant a solemn hymn, and singing thus, were thrust along +the passages to the place prepared for them. This was not, as they expected, a +prison at the back of the amphitheatre, but, as has been said, a spot between +the enclosing wall and the podium, raised a little above the level of the +arena. Here, on the eastern side of the building, they were to sit till their +turn came to be driven by the guards through a little wicket-gate into the +arena, where the starving beasts of prey would be loosed upon them. +</p> + +<p> +It was now the hour before sunrise, and the moon having set, the vast theatre +was plunged in gloom, relieved only here and there by stray torches and +cressets of fire burning upon either side of the gorgeous, but as yet +unoccupied, throne of Agrippa. This gloom seemed to oppress the audience with +which the place was crowded; at any rate none of them shouted or sang, or even +spoke loudly. They addressed each other in muffled tones, with the result that +the air seemed to be full of mysterious whisperings. Had this poor band of +condemned Christians entered the theatre in daylight, they would have been +greeted with ironical cries and tauntings of “Dogs’ meat!” +and with requests that they should work a miracle and let the people see them +rise again from the bellies of the lions. But now, as their solemn song broke +upon the silence, it was answered only by one great murmur, which seemed to +shape itself to the words, “the Christians! The doomed Christians!” +</p> + +<p> +By the light of a single torch the band took their places. Then once more they +sang, and in that chastening hour the audience listened with attention, almost +with respect. Their chant finished, the bishop stood up, and, moved thereto by +some inspiration, began to address the mighty throng, whom he could not see, +and who could not see him. Strangely enough they hearkened to him, perhaps +because his speech served to while away the weary time of waiting. +</p> + +<p> +“Men and brethren,” he began, in his thin, piercing notes, +“princes, lords, peoples, Romans, Jews, Syrians, Greeks, citizens of +Idumæa, of Egypt, and of all nations here gathered, hearken to the words of an +old man destined and glad to die. Listen, if it be your pleasure, to the story +of One whom some of you saw crucified under Pontius Pilate, since to know the +truth of that matter can at least do you no hurt.” +</p> + +<p> +“Be silent!” cried a voice, that of the renegade jailer, “and +cease preaching your accursed faith!” +</p> + +<p> +“Let him alone,” answered other voices. “We will hear this +story of his. We say—let him alone.” +</p> + +<p> +Thus encouraged the old man spoke on with an eloquence so simple and yet so +touching, with a wisdom so deep, that for full fifteen minutes none cared even +to interrupt him. Then a far-away listener cried: +</p> + +<p> +“Why must these people die who are better than we?” +</p> + +<p> +“Friend,” answered the bishop, in ringing tones, which in that +heavy silence seemed to search out even the recesses of the great and crowded +place, “we must die because it is the will of King Agrippa, to whom God +has given power to destroy us. Mourn not for us because we perish cruelly, +since this is the day of our true birth, but mourn for King Agrippa, at whose +hands our blood will be required, and mourn, mourn for yourselves, O people. +The death that is near to us perchance is nearer still to some of you; and how +will you awaken who perish in your sins? What if the sword of God should empty +yonder throne? What if the voice of God should call on him who fills it to make +answer of his deeds? Soon or late, O people, it will call on him and you to +pass hence, some naturally in your age, others by the sharp and dreadful roads +of sword, pestilence or famine. Already those woes which He whom you crucified +foretold, knock at your door, and within a few short years not one of you who +crowd this place in thousands will draw the breath of life. Nothing will remain +of you on earth save the fruit of those deeds which you have done—these +and your bones, no more. Repent you, therefore, repent while there is time; for +I, whom you have doomed, I am bidden to declare that judgment is at hand. Yes, +even now, although you see him not, the Angel of the Lord hangs over you and +writes your names within his book. Now while there is time I would pray for you +and for your king. Farewell.” +</p> + +<p> +As he spoke those words “the Angel of the Lord hangs over you,” so +great was the preacher’s power, and in that weary darkness so sharply had +he touched the imagination of his strange audience, that with a sound like to +the stir of rustling trees, thousands of faces were turned upwards, as though +in search of that dread messenger. +</p> + +<p> +“Look, look!” screamed a hundred voices, while dim arms pointed to +some noiseless thing that floated high above them against the background of the +sky, which grew grey with the coming dawn. It appeared and disappeared, +appeared again, then seemed to pass downward in the direction of +Agrippa’s throne, and vanished. +</p> + +<p> +“It is that magician’s angel,” cried one, and the multitudes +groaned. +</p> + +<p> +“Fool,” said another, “it was but a bird.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then for Agrippa’s sake,” shrilled a new voice, “the +gods send that it was not an owl.” +</p> + +<p> +Thereat some laughed, but the most were silent. They knew the story of King +Agrippa and the owl, and how it had been foretold that this spirit in the form +of a bird would appear to him again in the hour of his death, as it had +appeared to him in the hour of his triumph.[*] +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[*] See Josephus, “Antiquities of the Jews,” Book XVII., Chap. VI., +Sec. 7; and Book XIX., Chap. VIII., Sec. 2. +</p> + +<p> +Just then from the palace to the north arose a sound of the blare of trumpets. +Now a herald, speaking on the summit of the great eastern tower, called out +that it was dawn above the mountains, and that King Agrippa came with all his +company, whereon the preaching of the old Christian and his tale of a watching +Vengeance were instantly forgotten. Presently the glad, fierce notes of the +trumpets drew nearer, and in the grey of the daybreak, through the great bronze +gates of the Triumphal Way that were thrown open to greet him, advanced +Agrippa, wonderfully attired and preceded by his legionaries. At his right +walked Vibius Marsus, the Roman President of Syria, and on his left Antiochus, +King of Commagena, while after him followed other kings, princes, and great men +of his own and foreign lands. +</p> + +<p> +Agrippa mounted his golden throne while the multitude roared a welcome, and his +company were seated around and behind him according to their degree. +</p> + +<p> +Once more the trumpets sounded, and the gladiators of different arms, headed by +the equites who fought on horseback, numbering in all more than five hundred +men, were formed up in the arena for the preliminary march past—the +salutation of those about to die to their emperor and lord. Now, that they also +might take their part in the spectacle, the band of Christian martyrs were +thrust through the door in the podium, and to make them seem as many as +possible in number, marshalled two by two. +</p> + +<p> +Then the march past began. Troop by troop, arrayed in their shining armour and +armed, each of them, with his own familiar weapon, the gladiators halted in +front of Agrippa’s throne, giving to him the accustomed salutation of +“Hail, King, we who are about to die, salute thee,” to be rewarded +with a royal smile and the shouts of the approving audience. Last of all came +the Christians, a motley, wretched-looking group, made up of old men, terrified +children clinging to their mothers, and ill-clad, dishevelled women. At the +pitiful sight, that very mob which a few short minutes before had hung upon the +words of the bishop, their leader, now, as they watched them hobbling round the +arena in the clear, low light of the dawning, burst into peals of laughter and +called out that each of them should be made to lead his lion. Quite heedless of +these scoffs and taunts, they trudged on through the white sand that soon would +be so red, until they came opposite to the throne. +</p> + +<p> +“Salute!” roared the audience. +</p> + +<p> +The bishop held up his hand and all were silent. Then, in the thin voice with +which they had become familiar, he said: +</p> + +<p> +“King, we who are about to die—forgive thee. May God do +likewise.” +</p> + +<p> +Now the multitude ceased laughing, and with an impatient gesture, Agrippa +motioned to the martyrs to pass on. This they did humbly; but Anna, being old, +lame and weary, could not walk so fast as her companions. Alone she reached the +saluting-place after all had left it, and halted there. +</p> + +<p> +“Forward!” cried the officers. But she did not move nor did she +speak. Only leaning on her staff she looked steadily up at the face of the king +Agrippa. Some impulse seemed to draw his eyes to hers. They met, and it was +noted that he turned pale. Then straightening herself with difficulty upon her +tottering feet, Anna raised her staff and pointed with it to the golden canopy +above the head of Herod. All stared upward, but saw nothing, for the canopy was +still in the shadow of the velarium which covered all the outer edge of the +cavea, leaving the centre open to the sky. It would appear, however, that +Agrippa did see something, for he who had risen to declare the games open, +suddenly sank back upon his throne, and remained thus lost in thought. Then +Anna limped forward to join her company, who once more were driven through the +little gate in the wall of the arena. +</p> + +<p> +For a second time, with an effort, Agrippa lifted himself from his throne. As +he rose the first level rays of sunrise struck full upon him. He was a tall and +noble-looking man, and his dress was glorious. To the thousands who gazed upon +him from the shadow, set in that point of burning light he seemed to be clothed +in a garment of glittering silver. Silver was his crown, silver his vest, +silver the wide robe that flowed from his shoulders to the ground. +</p> + +<p> +“In the name of Cæsar, to the glory of Cæsar, I declare these games +open!” he cried. +</p> + +<p> +Then, as though moved by a sudden impulse, all the multitude rose shouting: +“The voice of a god! The voice of a god! The voice of the god +Agrippa!” +</p> + +<p> +Nor did Agrippa say them nay; the glory of such worship thundered at him from +twenty thousand throats made him drunken. There for a while he stood, the +new-born sunlight playing upon his splendid form, while the multitude roared +his name, proclaiming it divine. His nostrils spread to inhale this incense of +adoration, his eyes flashed and slowly he waved his arms, as though in +benediction of his worshippers. Perchance there rose before his mind a vision +of the wondrous event whereby he, the scorned and penniless outcast, had been +lifted to this giddy pinnacle of power. Perchance for a moment he believed that +he was indeed divine, that nothing less than the blood and right of godhead +could thus have exalted him. At least he stood there, denying naught, while the +people adored him as Jehovah is adored of the Jews and Christ is adored of the +Christians. +</p> + +<p> +Then of a sudden smote the Angel of the Lord. Of a sudden intolerable pain +seized upon his vitals, and Herod remembered that he was but mortal flesh, and +knew that death was near. +</p> + +<p> +“Alas!” he cried, “I am no god, but a man, and even now the +common fate of man is on me.” +</p> + +<p> +As he spoke a great white owl slid from the roof of the canopy above him and +vanished through the unroofed centre of the cavea. +</p> + +<p> +“Look! look! my people!” he cried again, “the spirit that +brought me good fortune leaves me now, and I die, my people, I die!” +Then, sinking upon his throne, he who a moment gone had received the worship of +a god, writhed there in agony and wept. Yes, Herod wept. +</p> + +<p> +Attendants ran to him and lifted him in their arms. +</p> + +<p> +“Take me hence to die,” he moaned. Now a herald cried: +</p> + +<p> +“The king is smitten with a sore sickness, and the games are closed. To +your homes, O people.” +</p> + +<p> +For a while the multitude sat silent, for they were fear-stricken. Then a +murmur rose among them that spread and swelled till it became a roar. +</p> + +<p> +“The Christians! The Christians! They prophesied the evil. They have +bewitched the king. They are wizards. Kill them, kill them, kill them!” +</p> + +<p> +Instantly, like waves pouring in from every side, hundreds and thousands of men +began to flow towards that place where the martyrs sat. The walls and palisades +were high. Sweeping aside the guards, they surged against them like water +against a rock; but climb they could not. Those in front began to scream, those +behind pressed on. Some fell and were trodden underfoot, others clambered upon +their bodies, in turn to fall and be trodden underfoot. +</p> + +<p> +“Our death is upon us!” cried one of the Nazarenes. +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, life remains to us,” answered Nehushta. “Follow me, all +of you, for I know the road,” and, seizing Rachel about the middle, she +began to drag her towards a little door. It was unlocked and guarded by one man +only, the apostate jailer Rufus. +</p> + +<p> +“Stand back!” he cried, lifting his spear. +</p> + +<p> +Nehushta made no answer, only drawing a dagger from her robe, she fell upon the +ground, then of a sudden rose again beneath his guard. The knife flashed and +went home to the hilt. Down fell the man screaming for help and mercy, and +there, in the narrow way, his spirit was stamped out of him. Beyond lay the +broad passage of the vomitorium. They gained it, and in an instant were mixed +with the thousands who sought to escape the panic. Some perished, some were +swept onwards, among them Nehushta and Rachel. Thrice they nearly fell, but the +fierce strength of the Libyan saved her mistress, till at length they found +themselves on the broad terrace facing the seashore. +</p> + +<p> +“Whither now?” gasped Rachel. +</p> + +<p> +“Where shall I lead you?” answered Nehushta. “Do not stay. Be +swift.” +</p> + +<p> +“But the others?” said Rachel, glancing back at the fighting, +trampling, yelling mob. +</p> + +<p> +“God guard them! We cannot.” +</p> + +<p> +“Leave me,” moaned her mistress. “Save yourself, Nou; I am +spent,” and she sank down to her knees. +</p> + +<p> +“But I am still strong,” muttered Nehushta, and lifting the +swooning woman in her sinewy arms, she fled on towards the port, crying, +“Way, way for my lady, the noble Roman, who has swooned!” +</p> + +<p> +And the multitude made way. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap03"></a>CHAPTER III<br/> +THE GRAIN STORE</h2> + +<p> +Having passed the outer terraces of the amphitheatre in safety, Nehushta turned +down a side street, and paused in the shadow of the wall to think what she +should do. So far they were safe; but even if her strength would stand the +strain, it seemed impossible that she should carry her mistress through the +crowded city and avoid recapture. For some months they had both of them been +prisoners, and as it was the custom of the inhabitants of Cæsarea, when they +had nothing else to do, to come to the gates of their jail, and, through the +bars, to study those within, or even, by permission of the guards, to walk +among them, their appearance was known to many. Doubtless, so soon as the +excitement caused by the illness of the king had subsided, soldiers would be +sent to hunt down the fugitives who had escaped from the amphitheatre. More +especially would they search for her, Nehushta, and her mistress, since it +would be known that one of them had stabbed the warden of the gate, a crime for +which they must expect to die by torture. Also—where could they go who +had no friends, since all Christians had been expelled the city? +</p> + +<p> +No, there was but one chance for them—to conceal themselves. +</p> + +<p> +Nehushta looked round her for a hiding-place, and in this matter, as in others +on that day, fortune favoured them. This street in the old days, when Cæsarea +was called Strato’s Tower, had been built upon an inner wall of the city, +now long dismantled. At a distance of a few yards from where Nehushta had +stopped stood an ancient gateway, unused save at times by beggars who slept +under it, which led nowhere, for the outer arch of it was bricked up. Into this +gateway Nehushta bore her mistress unobserved, to find to her relief that it +was quite untenanted, though a still smouldering fire and a broken amphora +containing clean water showed her that folk had slept there who could find no +better lodging. So far so good; but here it would be scarcely safe to hide, as +the tenants or others might come back. Nehushta looked around. In the thick +wall was a little archway, beneath which commenced a stair. Setting Rachel on +the ground, she ran up it, lightly as a cat. At the top of thirty steps, many +of them broken, she found an old and massive door. With a sigh of +disappointment, the Libyan turned to descend again; then, by an afterthought, +pushed at the door. To her surprise it stirred. Again she pushed, and it swung +open. Within was a large chamber, lighted by loopholes pierced in the thickness +of the wall, for the use of archers. Now, however, it served no military +purpose, but was used as a storehouse by a merchant of grain, for there in a +corner lay a heap of many measures of barley, and strewn about the floor were +sacks of skin and other articles. +</p> + +<p> +Nehushta examined the room. No hiding-place could be better—unless the +merchant chanced to come to visit his store. Well, that must be risked. Down +she sped, and with much toil and difficulty carried her still swooning mistress +up the steps and into the chamber, where she laid her on a heap of sacks. +</p> + +<p> +Again, by an afterthought, she ventured to descend, this time to fetch the +broken jar of water. Then she closed the door, setting it fast with a piece of +wood, and began to chafe Rachel’s hands and to sprinkle her face from the +jar. Presently the dark eyes opened and her mistress sat up. +</p> + +<p> +“Is it over, and is this Paradise?” she murmured. +</p> + +<p> +“I should not call the place by that name, lady,” answered +Nehushta, drily, “though perhaps, in contrast with the hell that we have +left, some might think it so. Drink!” and she held the water to her lips. +</p> + +<p> +Rachel obeyed her eagerly. “Oh! it is good,” she said. “But +how came we here out of that rushing crowd?” +</p> + +<p> +Before she answered, muttering “After the mistress, the maid,” +Nehushta swallowed a deep draught of water in her turn, which, indeed, she +needed sorely. Then she told her all. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! Nou,” said Rachel, “how strong and brave you are! But +for you I should be dead.” +</p> + +<p> +“But for God, you mean, mistress, for I hold that He sent that +knife-point home.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you kill the man?” asked Rachel. +</p> + +<p> +“I think that he died by a dagger-thrust as Anna foretold,” she +answered evasively; “and that reminds me that I had better clean the +knife, since blood on the blade is evidence against its owner.” Then +drawing the dagger from its hiding-place she rubbed it with dust, which she +took from a loop-hole, and polished it bright with a piece of hide. +</p> + +<p> +Scarcely was this task accomplished to Nehushta’s satisfaction when her +quick ears caught a sound. +</p> + +<p> +“For your life, be silent,” she whispered, and laid her face +sideways to a crack in the cement floor and listened. Well might she listen, +for below were three soldiers searching for her and her mistress. +</p> + +<p> +“The old fellow swore that he saw a Libyan woman carrying a lady down +this street,” said one of them, the petty officer in charge, to his +companion, “and there was but a single brown-skin in the lot; so if they +aren’t here I don’t know where they can be.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” grumbled one of the soldiers, “this place is as empty +as a drum, so we may as well be going. There’ll be fun presently which I +don’t want to miss.” +</p> + +<p> +“It was the black woman who knifed our friend Rufus, wasn’t +it—in the theatre there?” asked the third soldier. +</p> + +<p> +“They say so; but as he was trodden as flat as a roof-board, and they had +to take him up in pieces, it is difficult to know the truth of that matter. +Anyhow his mates are anxious to get the lady, and I should be sorry to die as +she will, when they do, or her mistress either. They have leave to finish them +in their own fashion.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hadn’t we best be going?” said the first soldier, who +evidently was anxious to keep some appointment. +</p> + +<p> +“Hullo!” exclaimed the second, a sharp-eyed fellow, +“there’s a stair; we had better just look up it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not much use,” answered the officer. “That old thief Amram, +the corn-merchant, has a store there, and he isn’t one of the sort to +leave it unlocked. Still, just go and see.” +</p> + +<p> +Then came the sound of footsteps on the stair, and presently a man could be +heard fumbling at the further side of the door. Rachel shut her eyes and +prayed; Nehushta, drawing the knife from her bosom, crept towards the doorway +like a tigress, and placed her left hand on the stick that held it shut. Well +it was that she did so, since presently the soldier gave a savage push that +might easily have caused the wood to slip on the cemented floor. Now, satisfied +that it was really locked, he turned and went down the steps. +</p> + +<p> +With a gasp of relief Nehushta once more set her ear to the crack. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s fast enough,” reported the man, “but perhaps it +might be as well to get the key from Amram and have a look.” +</p> + +<p> +“Friend,” said the officer, “I think that you must be in love +with this black lady; or is it her mistress whom you admire? I shall recommend +you for the post of Christian-catcher to the cohort. Now we’ll try that +house at the corner, and if they are not there, I am off to the palace to see +how his godship is getting on with that stomach-ache and whether it has moved +him to order payment of our arrears. If he hasn’t, I tell you flatly that +I mean to help myself to something, and so do the rest of the lads, who are mad +at the stopping of the games.” +</p> + +<p> +“It would be much better to get that key from Amram and have a look +upstairs,” put in number two soldier reflectively. +</p> + +<p> +“Then go to Amram, or to Pluto, and ask for the key of Hades for aught I +care!” replied his superior with irritation. “He lives about a +league off at the other end of the town.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not wish for the walk,” said the conscientious soldier; +“but as we are searching for these escaped Christians, by your leave, I +do think it would have been much better to have got that key from Amram and +peeped into the chamber upstairs.” +</p> + +<p> +Thereon the temper of the officer, already ruffled by the events of the morning +and the long watch of the preceding night, gave way, and he departed, +consigning the Christians, escaped or recaptured, Amram and the key, his +subordinate, and even the royal Agrippa who did not pay his debts, to every +infernal god of every religion with which he was acquainted. +</p> + +<p> +Nehushta lifted her head from the floor. +</p> + +<p> +“Thanks be to God! They are gone,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“But, Nou, will they not come back? Oh! I fear lest they should come +back.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think not. That sharp-nosed rat has made the other angry, and I +believe that he will find him some harder task than the seeking of a key from +Amram. Still, there is danger that this Amram may appear himself to visit his +store, for in these days of festival he is sure to be selling grain to the +bakers.” +</p> + +<p> +Scarcely were the words out of her mouth when a key rattled, the door was +pushed sharply, and the piece of wood slipped and fell. Then the hinges +creaked, and Amram—none other—entered, and, closing the door behind +him, locked it, leaving the key in the lock. +</p> + +<p> +Amram was a shrewd-faced, middle-aged Phœnician and, like most Phœnicians of +that day, a successful trader, this corn-store representing only one branch of +his business. For the rest he was clad in a quiet-coloured robe and cap, and to +all appearance unarmed. +</p> + +<p> +Having locked the door, he walked to a little table, beneath which stood a box +containing his tablets whereon were entered the amounts of corn bought and +delivered, to come face to face with Nehushta. Instantly she slid between him +and the door. +</p> + +<p> +“Who in the name of Moloch are you?” he asked, stepping back +astonished, to perceive as he did so, Rachel seated on the heap of sacks; +“and you,” he added. “Are you spirits, thieves, ladies in +search of a lodging, or—perchance those two Christians whom the soldiers +are looking for in yonder house?” +</p> + +<p> +“We are the two Christians,” said Rachel desperately. “We +fled from the amphitheatre, and have taken refuge here, where they nearly found +us.” +</p> + +<p> +“This,” said Amram solemnly, “comes of not locking +one’s office. Do not misunderstand me; it was no fault of mine. A certain +apprentice is to blame, to whom I shall have a word to say. In fact, I think +that I will say it at once,” and he stepped towards the door. +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed you will not,” interrupted Nehushta. +</p> + +<p> +“And pray, my Libyan friend, how will you prevent me?” +</p> + +<p> +“By putting a knife into your gizzard, as I did through that of the +renegade Rufus an hour or two ago! Ah! I see you have heard the story.” +</p> + +<p> +Amram considered, then replied: +</p> + +<p> +“And what if I also have a knife?” +</p> + +<p> +“In that case,” said Nehushta, “draw it, and we will see +which is the better, man or woman. Merchant, your weapon is your pen. You have +not a chance with me, an Arab of Libya, and you know it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” answered Amram, “I think I do; you desert folk are so +reckless and athletic. Also, to be frank, as you may have guessed, I am +unarmed. Now, what do you propose?” +</p> + +<p> +“I propose that you get us safely out of Cæsarea, or, if you prefer it, +that we shall all die here in this grain-store, for, by whatever god you +worship, Phœnician, before a hand is laid upon my mistress or me, this knife +goes through your heart. I owe no love to your people, who bought me, a +king’s daughter, as a slave, and I shall be quite happy to close my +account with one of them. Do you understand?” +</p> + +<p> +“Perfectly, perfectly. Why show such temper? The affair is one of +business; let us discuss it in a business spirit. You wish to escape from +Cæsarea; I wish you to escape from my grain-store. Let me go out and arrange +the matter.” +</p> + +<p> +“On a plank; not otherwise unless we accompany you,” answered +Nehushta. “Man, why do you waste words with us. Listen. This lady is the +only child of Benoni, the great merchant of Tyre. Doubtless you know +him?” +</p> + +<p> +“To my cost,” replied Amram, with a bow. “Three times has he +overreached me in various bargains.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well; then you know also that he is rich and will pay him liberally +who rescues his daughter from great peril.” +</p> + +<p> +“He might do so, but I am not sure.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am sure,” answered Nehushta, “and for this service my +mistress here will give you a bill for any reasonable sum drawn upon her +father.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, but the question is—will he honour it? Benoni is a prejudiced +man, a very prejudiced man, a Jew of the Jews, who—does not like +Christians.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think that he will honour it, I believe that he will honour it; but +that risk is yours. See here, merchant, a doubtful draft is better than a slit +throat.” +</p> + +<p> +“Quite so. The argument is excellent. But you desire to escape. If you +keep me here, how can I arrange the matter?” +</p> + +<p> +“That is for you to consider. You do not leave this place except in our +company, and then at the first sign of danger I drive this knife home between +your shoulders. Meanwhile my mistress is ready to sign any moderate draft upon +her father.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is not necessary. Under the circumstances I think that I will trust +to the generosity of my fellow trader Benoni. Meanwhile I assure you that +nothing will give me greater happiness than to fall in with your views. Believe +me, I have no prejudice against Christians, since those of them whom I have met +were always honest and paid their debts in full. I do not wish to see you or +your mistress eaten by lions or tortured. I shall be very glad to think that +you are following the maxims of your peculiar faith to an extreme old age, +anywhere, outside the limits of my grain-store. The question is, how can I help +you do this? At present I see no way.” +</p> + +<p> +“The question is—how will you manage to keep your life in you over +the next twelve hours?” answered Nehushta grimly. “Therefore I +advise you to find a way”; and to emphasise her words she turned, and, +having made sure that the door was locked, slipped its key into the bosom of +her dress. +</p> + +<p> +Amram stared at her in undisguised admiration. “I would that I were +unmarried,” he said, “which is not the case,” and he sighed; +“for then, upon my word, I should be inclined to make a certain proposal +to you——” +</p> + +<p> +“Nehushta—that is my name——” +</p> + +<p> +“Nehushta—exactly. Well, it is out of the question.” +</p> + +<p> +“Quite.” +</p> + +<p> +“Therefore I have a suggestion to make. To-night a ship of mine sails for +Tyre. Will you honour me by accepting a passage on her?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly,” answered Nehushta, “provided that you accompany +us.” +</p> + +<p> +“It was not my intention to go to Tyre this voyage.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then your intention can be changed. Look you, we are desperate, and our +lives are at stake. Your life is also at stake, and I swear to you, by the Holy +One we worship, that before any harm comes to my mistress you shall die. Then +what will your wealth and your schemes avail you in the grave? It is a little +thing we ask of you—to help two innocent people to escape from this +accursed city. Will you grant it? Or shall I put this dagger through your +throat? Answer, and at once, or I strike and bury you in your own corn.” +</p> + +<p> +Even in that light Amram turned visibly paler. “I accept your +terms,” he said. “At nightfall I will conduct you to the ship, +which sails two hours after sunset with the evening wind. I will accompany you +to Tyre and deliver the lady over to her father, trusting to his liberality for +my reward. Meanwhile, this place is hot. That ladder leads to the roof, which +is parapeted, so that those sitting or even standing there, cannot be seen. +Shall we ascend?” +</p> + +<p> +“If you go first; and remember, should you attempt to call out, my knife +is always ready.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of that I am quite aware—you have said so several times. I have +passed my words, and I do not go back upon my bargains. The stars are with you, +and, come what may, I obey them.” +</p> + +<p> +Accordingly they ascended to the roof, Amram going first, Nehushta following +him, and Rachel bringing up the rear. On it, projecting inward from the +parapet, was a sloping shelter once made use of by the look-out sentry in bad +or hot weather. The change from the stifling store below with its stench of +ill-cured hides, to this lofty, shaded spot, where the air moved freely, was so +pleasant to Rachel, outworn as she was with all she had gone through, that +presently she fell asleep, not to wake again till evening. Nehushta, however, +who did not go to sleep, and Amram, employed themselves in watching the events +that passed in the city below. From this height they could see the great square +surrounding the palace, and the strange scenes being enacted therein. It was +crowded by thousands of people, for the most part seated on the ground, clad in +garments of sack-cloth and throwing dust upon the heads of themselves, their +wives and children. From all this multitude a voice of supplication rose to +heaven, which, even at that distance, reached the ears of Nehushta and her +companion in a murmur of sound, constant and confused. +</p> + +<p> +“They pray that the king may live,” said Amram. +</p> + +<p> +“And I pray that he may die,” answered Nehushta. +</p> + +<p> +The merchant shrugged his shoulders. “I care nothing either way, provided +that the peace is not disturbed to the injury of trade. On the whole, however, +he is a good king who causes money to be spent, which is what kings are +for—in Judæa—where they are but feathers puffed up by the breath of +Cæsar, to fall if he cease to blow. But look!” +</p> + +<p> +As he spoke, a figure appeared upon the steps of the palace who made some +communication to the crowd, whereon a great wail went up to the very skies. +</p> + +<p> +“You have your wish,” said Amram; “Herod is dead or dying, +and now, I suppose, as his son is but a child, that we shall be ruled by some +accursed thief of a Roman procurator with a pocket like a sack without a +bottom. Surely that old bishop of yours who preached in the amphitheatre this +morning, must have had a hint of what was coming, from his familiar spirit; or +perhaps he saw the owl and guessed its errand. Moreover, I think that troubles +are brewing for others besides Herod, since the old man said as much.” +</p> + +<p> +“What became of him and the rest?” asked Nehushta. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! a few were trampled to death, and others the Jews stirred up the mob +to stone, saying that they had bewitched the king, which they, who were +disappointed of the games, did gladly. Some, however, are said to have escaped, +and, like yourselves, lie in hiding.” +</p> + +<p> +Nehushta glanced at her mistress, now fast asleep, her pale face resting on her +arm. +</p> + +<p> +“The world is hard—for Christians,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“Friend, it is hard for all, as, were I to tell you my own story, even +you would admit,” and he sighed. “At least you Christians believe +in something beyond,” he went on; “for you death is but a bridge +leading to a glorious city, and I trust that you may be right. Is not your +mistress delicate?” +</p> + +<p> +Nehushta nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“She was never very strong, and sorrow has done its work with her. They +killed her husband at Berytus yonder, and—her trouble is very +near.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes, I heard that story, also that his blood is on the hands of her +own father, Benoni. Ah! who is so cruel as a bigot Jew? Not we Phœnicians +even, of whom they say such evil. Once I had a daughter”—here his +hard face softened—“but let be, let be! Look you, the risk is +great, but what I can do I will do to save her, and you also, friend, since, +Libyan or no, you are a faithful woman. Nay, do not doubt me. I have given my +word, and if I break it willingly, then may I perish and be devoured of dogs. +My ship is small and undecked. In that she shall not sail, but a big galley +weighs for Alexandria to-night, calling at Apollonia and Joppa, and in it I +will take you passages, saying that the lady is a relative of mine and that you +are her slave. This is my advice to you—that you go straight to Egypt, +where there are many Christians who will protect you for a while. Thence your +mistress can write to her father, and if he will receive her, return. If not, +at least she will be safe, since no writ of Herod runs in Alexandria, and there +they do not love the Jews.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your counsel seems good,” said Nehushta, “if she will +consent to it.” +</p> + +<p> +“She must consent who, indeed, is in no case to make other plans. Now let +me go. Before nightfall I will return again with food and clothing, and lead +you to the ship.” +</p> + +<p> +Nehushta hesitated. +</p> + +<p> +“I say to you, do not fear. Will you not trust me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” answered Nehushta, “because I must. Nay, the words are +not kind, but we are sadly placed, and it is strange to find a true friend in +one whom I have threatened with a knife.” +</p> + +<p> +“I understand,” said Amram gravely. “Let the issue prove me. +Now descend that you may lock the door behind me. When I return I will stand in +the open space yonder with a slave, making pretence to re-bind a burst bundle +of merchandise. Then come down and admit me without fear.” +</p> + +<p> +When the Phœnician had gone Nehushta sat by her sleeping mistress, and waited +with an anxious heart. Had she done wisely? Would Amram betray them and send +soldiers to conduct them, not to the ship, but to some dreadful death? Well, if +so, at least she would have time to kill her mistress and herself, and thus +escape the cruelties of men. Meanwhile she could only pray; and pray she did in +her fierce, half-savage fashion, never for herself, but for her mistress whom +she loved, and for the child that, she remembered thankfully, Anna had foretold +would be born and live out its life. Then she remembered also that this same +holy woman had said that its mother’s hours would be few, and at the +thought Nehushta wept. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap04"></a>CHAPTER IV<br/> +THE BIRTH OF MIRIAM</h2> + +<p> +The time passed slowly, but none came to disturb them. Three hours after noon +Rachel awoke, refreshed but hungry, and Nehushta had no food to give her except +raw grain, from which she turned. Clearly and in few words she told her +mistress all that had passed, asking her consent to the plan. +</p> + +<p> +“It seems good as another,” said Rachel with a little sigh, +“and I thank you for making it, Nou, and the Phœnician, if he is a true +man. Also I do not desire to meet my father—at least, for many years. How +can I, seeing the evil which he has brought upon me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Do not speak of that,” interrupted Nehushta hastily, and for a +long while they were silent. +</p> + +<p> +It was an hour before sunset, or a little less, when at length Nehushta saw two +persons walk on to the patch of open ground which she watched +continually—Amram and a slave who bore a bundle on his head. Just then +the rope which bound this bundle seemed to come loose; at least, at his +master’s command, the man set it down and they began to retie it, then +advanced slowly towards the archway. Now Nehushta descended, unlocked the door +and admitted Amram, who carried the bundle. +</p> + +<p> +“Where is the slave?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Have no fear, friend; he is trusty and watches without, not knowing why. +Come, you must both of you be hungry, and I have food. Help me loose this +cord.” +</p> + +<p> +Presently the package was undone, and within it appeared, first, two flagons of +old wine, then meats more tasty than Nehushta had seen for months, then rich +cloaks and other garments made in the Phœnician fashion, and a robe of white +with coloured edges, such as was worn by the body-slaves of the wealthy among +that people. Lastly—and this Amram produced from his own +person—there was a purse of gold, enough to support them for many weeks. +Nehushta thanked him with her eyes, and was about to speak. +</p> + +<p> +“There, say nothing,” he interrupted. “I passed my word, and +I have kept it, that is all. Also on this money I shall charge interest, and +your mistress can repay it in happier days. Now listen: I have taken the +passages, and an hour after sunset we will go aboard. Only I warn you, do not +let it be known that you are escaped Christians, for the seamen think that such +folk bring them bad luck. Come, help me carry the food and wine. After you have +eaten you can both of you retire here and robe yourselves.” +</p> + +<p> +Presently they were on the roof. +</p> + +<p> +“Lady,” said Nehushta, “we did well to put faith in this man. +He has come back, and see what he has brought us.” +</p> + +<p> +“The blessing of God be on you, sir, who help the helpless!” +exclaimed Rachel, looking hungrily at the tempting meats which she so sorely +needed. +</p> + +<p> +“Drink,” said Amram cheerfully, as he poured wine and water into a +cup; “it will hearten you, and your faith does not forbid the use of the +grape, for have I not heard you styled the society of drunkards?” +</p> + +<p> +“That is only one bad name among many, sir,” said Rachel, as she +took the cup. +</p> + +<p> +Then they ate and were satisfied, and afterwards descended into the corn-store +to wash with the remainder of the water, and clothe themselves from head to +foot in the fragrant and beautiful garments that might have been made for their +wear, so well had Amram judged their sizes and needs. +</p> + +<p> +By the time that they were dressed the light was dying. Still, they waited a +while for the darkness; then, with a new hope shining through their fears, +crept silently into the street, where the slave, a sturdy, well-armed fellow, +watched for them. +</p> + +<p> +“To the quay,” said Amram, and they walked forward, choosing those +thoroughfares that were most quiet. It was well for them that they did this, +for now it was known that Agrippa’s sickness was mortal, the most of the +soldiers were already in a state of mutiny, and, inflamed with wine, paraded +the market-places and larger streets, shouting and singing obscene songs, and +breaking into the liquor shops and private houses, where they drank healths to +Charon, who was about to bear away their king in his evil bark. As yet, +however, they had not begun killing those against whom they had a grudge. This +happened afterwards, though it has nothing to do with our story. +</p> + +<p> +Without trouble or molestation the party reached the quay, where a small boat +with two Phœnician rowers was waiting for them. In it they embarked, except +the slave, and were rowed out to the anchorage to board a large galley which +lay half a mile or more away. This they did without difficulty, for the night +was calm, although the air hung thick and heavy, and jagged clouds, +wind-breeders as they were called, lay upon the horizon. On the lower deck of +the galley stood its captain, a sour-faced man, to whom Amram introduced his +passengers, who were, as he declared, relatives of his own proceeding to +Alexandria. +</p> + +<p> +“Good,” said the captain. “Show them to their cabin, for we +sail as soon as the wind rises.” +</p> + +<p> +To the cabin they went accordingly, a comfortable place stored with all that +they could need; but as they passed to it Nehushta heard a sailor, who held a +lantern in his hand, say to his companion: +</p> + +<p> +“That woman is very like one whom I saw in the amphitheatre this morning +when they gave the salute to King Agrippa.” +</p> + +<p> +“The gods forbid it!” answered the other. “We want no +Christians here to bring evil fortune on us.” +</p> + +<p> +“Christians or no Christians, there is a tempest brewing, if I understand +the signs of the weather,” muttered the first man. +</p> + +<p> +In the cabin Amram bade his guests farewell. +</p> + +<p> +“This is a strange adventure,” he said, “and one that I did +not look for. May it prove to the advantage of us all. At the least I have done +my best for your safety, and now we part.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are a good man,” replied Rachel, “and whatever may +befall us, I pray again that God may bless you for your kindness to His +servants. I pray also that He may lead you to a knowledge of the truth as it +was declared by the Lord and Master Whom we serve, that your soul may win +salvation and eternal life.” +</p> + +<p> +“Lady,” said Amram, “I know nothing of these doctrines, but I +promise you this: that I will look into them and see whether or no they commend +themselves to my reason. I love wealth, like all my people, but I am not +altogether a time-server, or a money-seeker. Lady, I have lost those whom I +desire to find again.” +</p> + +<p> +“Seek and you will find.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will seek,” he answered, “though, mayhap, I shall never +find.” +</p> + +<p> +Thus they parted. +</p> + +<p> +Presently the night breeze began to flow off the land, the great sail was +hoisted, and with the help of oars, worked by slaves, the ship cleared the +harbour and set her course for Joppa. Two hours later the wind failed so that +they could proceed only by rowing over a dead and oily sea, beneath a sky that +was full of heavy clouds. Lacking any stars to steer by, the captain wished to +cast anchor, but as the water proved too deep they proceeded slowly, till about +an hour before dawn a sudden gust struck them which caused the galley to lean +over. +</p> + +<p> +“The north wind! The black north wind!” shouted the steersman, and +the sailors echoed his cry dismally, for they knew the terrors of that wind +upon the Syrian coast. Then the gale began to rage. By daylight the waves were +running high as mountains and the wind hissed through the rigging, driving them +forward beneath a small sail. Nehushta crawled out of the cabin, and, in the +light of an angry dawn, saw far away the white walls of a city built near the +shore. +</p> + +<p> +“Is not that Appolonia?” she asked of the captain. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” he answered, “it is Appolonia sure enough, but we +shall not anchor there this voyage. Now it is Alexandria for us or +nothing.” +</p> + +<p> +So they rushed past Appolonia and forward, climbing the slopes of the rising +seas. +</p> + +<p> +Thus things went on. About mid-day the gale became a hurricane, and do what +they would they were driven forward, till at length they saw the breakers +forming on the coast. Rachel lay sick and prostrate, but Nehushta went out of +the cabin to watch. +</p> + +<p> +“Are we in danger?” she asked of a sailor. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, accursed Christian,” he replied, “and you have brought +it on us with your evil eye.” +</p> + +<p> +Then Nehushta returned to the cabin where her mistress lay almost senseless +with sea-sickness. On board the ship the terror and confusion grew. For a while +they were able to beat out to sea until the mast was carried away. Then the +rudder broke, and, as the oars could not be worked in that fearful tempest, the +galley began to drive shorewards. Night fell, and who can describe the awful +hours that followed? All control of the vessel being lost, she drove onwards +whither the wind and the waves took her. The crew, and even the oar-slaves, +flew to the wine with which she was partly laden, and strove to drown their +terrors in drink. Thus inflamed, twice some of them came to the cabin, +threatening to throw their passengers overboard. But Nehushta barred the door +and called through it that she was well armed and would kill the first man who +tried to lay a hand upon her. So they went away, and after the second visit +grew too drunken to be dangerous. +</p> + +<p> +Again the dawn broke over the roaring, foaming sea and revealed the fate that +awaited them. Not a mile away lay the grey line of shore, and between them and +it a cruel reef on which the breakers raged. Towards this reef they were +driving fast. Now the men grew sober in their fear, and began to build a large +raft of oars and timber; also to make ready the boat which the galley carried. +Before all was done she struck beak first, and was lifted on to a great flat +rock, where she wallowed, with the water seething round her. Then, knowing that +their hour was come, the crew made shift to launch the boat and raft on the lee +side, and began to clamber into them. Now Nehushta came out of the cabin and +prayed the captain to save them also, whereon he answered her with an oath that +this bad luck was because of them, and that if either she or her mistress tried +to enter the boat, they would stab them and cast them into the sea as an +offering to the storm-god. +</p> + +<p> +So Nehushta struggled back to the cabin, and kneeling by the side of her +mistress, with tears told her that these black-hearted sailors had left them +alone upon the ship to drown. Rachel answered that she cared little, but only +desired to be free of her fear and misery. +</p> + +<p> +As the words left her lips, Nehushta heard a sound of screaming, and crawling +to the bulwarks, looked forth to see a dreadful sight. The boat and the raft, +laden with a great number of men who were fighting for places with each other, +having loosed from the lee of the ship, were come among the breakers, which +threw them up as a child throws a ball at play. Even while Nehushta gazed, +their crafts were overturned, casting them into the water, every one there to +be dashed against the rocks or drowned by the violence of the waves, so that +not a man of all that ship’s company came living to the shore. +</p> + +<p> +Like tens of thousands of others on this coast in all ages, they perished, +every one of them—and that was the reward of their wickedness. +</p> + +<p> +Giving thanks to God, Who had brought them out of that danger against their +wills, Nehushta crept back to the cabin and told her mistress what had passed. +</p> + +<p> +“May they find pardon,” said Rachel, shuddering; “but as for +us, it will matter little whether we are drowned in the boat or upon the +galley.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not think that we shall drown,” answered Nehushta. +</p> + +<p> +“How are we to escape it, Nou? The ship lies upon the rock, where the +great waves will batter her to pieces. Feel how she shakes beneath their blows, +and see the spray flying over us.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not know, mistress; but we shall not drown.” +</p> + +<p> +Nehushta was right, for after they had remained fast a little longer they were +saved, thus: Suddenly the wind dropped, then it rose again in a last furious +squall, driving before it a very mountain of water. This vast billow, as it +rushed shorewards, caught the galley in its white arms and lifted her not only +off the rock whereon she lay, but over the further reefs, to cast her down +again upon a bed of sand and shells, within a stone’s throw of the beach, +where she remained fast, never to shift more. +</p> + +<p> +Now also, as though its work were done, the gale ceased, and, as is common on +the Syrian coast, the sea sank rapidly, so that by nightfall it was calm again. +Indeed, three hours before sunset, had both of them been strong and well, they +might have escaped to the land by wading. But this was not to be, for now what +Nehushta had feared befell, and when she was least fitted to bear it, being +worn out with anguish of mind and weariness of body, pain took sudden hold of +Rachel, of which the end was that, before midnight, there, in that broken +vessel upon a barren coast where no man seemed to live, a daughter was born to +her. +</p> + +<p> +“Let me see the child,” said Rachel. So Nehushta showed it to her +by the light of a lamp which burned in the cabin. +</p> + +<p> +It was a small child, but very white, with blue eyes and dark hair that curled. +Rachel gazed at it long and tenderly. Then she said, “Bring me water +while there is yet time.” +</p> + +<p> +When the water was brought she dipped her trembling hand into it, and made the +sign of the Cross upon the babe’s forehead, baptising her with the name +of Miriam, after that of her own mother, to the service and the company of +Jesus the Christ. +</p> + +<p> +“Now,” she said, “whether she live an hour or an hundred +years, this child is a Christian, and whatever befalls, should she come to the +age of understanding, see to it, Nou, who are henceforth the foster-mother of +her body and her soul, that she does not forget the rites and duties of her +faith. Lay this charge on her also as her father commanded, and as I command, +that should she be moved to marriage, she wed none who is not a Christian. Tell +her that such was the will of those who begat her, and that if she be obedient +to it, although they are dead, and as it seems strengthless, yet shall their +blessing be upon her all her life’s days, and with it the blessing of the +Lord she serves.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” moaned Nehushta, “why do you speak thus?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because I am dying. Gainsay me not. I know it well. My life ebbs from +me. My prayers have been answered, and I was preserved to give this infant +birth; now I go to my appointed place and to one who waits for me, and to the +Lord in Whose care he is in Heaven, as we are in His care on earth. Nay, do not +mourn; it is no fault of yours, nor could any physician’s skill have +saved me, whose strength was spent in suffering, and who for many months have +walked the world, bearing in my breast a broken heart. Give me of that wine to +drink—and listen.” +</p> + +<p> +Nehushta obeyed and Rachel went on: “So soon as my breath has left me, +take the babe and seek some village on the shore where it can be nursed, for +which service you have the means to pay. Then when she is strong enough and it +is convenient, travel, not to Tyre—for there my father would bring up the +child in the strictest rites and customs of the Jews—but to the village +of the Essenes upon the shores of the Dead Sea. There find out my +mother’s brother, Ithiel, who is of their society, and present to him the +tokens of my name and birth which still hang about my neck, and tell him all +the story, keeping nothing back. He is not a Christian, but he is a good and +gentle-hearted man who thinks well of Christians, and is grieved at their +persecution, since he wrote to my father reproving him for his deeds towards us +and, as you know, strove, but in vain, to bring about our release from prison. +Say to him that I, his kinswoman, pray of him, as he will answer to God, and in +the name of the sister whom he loved, to protect my child and you; to do +nothing to turn her from her faith, and in all things to deal with her as his +wisdom shall direct—for so shall peace and blessing come upon him.” +</p> + +<p> +Thus spoke Rachel, but in short and broken words. Then she began to pray, and, +praying, fell asleep. When she woke again the dawn was breaking. Signing to +Nehushta to bring her the child, for now she could no longer speak, she scanned +it earnestly in the new-born light, then placed her hand upon its head and +blessed it. Nehushta she blessed also, thanking her with her eyes and kissing +her. Then again she seemed to fall asleep, and presently, when Nehushta looked +at her, Rachel was dead. +</p> + +<p> +Nehushta understood and gave a great and bitter cry, since to her after the +death of her first mistress, this woman had been all her life. As a child she +had nursed her; as a maiden shared her joys and sorrows; as a wife and widow +toiled day and night fiercely and faithfully to console her in her desolation +and to protect her in the dreadful dangers through which she had passed. Now, +to end it all, it was her lot to receive her last breath and to take into her +arms her new-born infant. +</p> + +<p> +Then and there Nehushta swore that as she had done by the mother she so would +do by the child till the day when her labours ended. Were it not for this +child, indeed, they would have ended now, Christian though she was, since she +was crushed with bitter sorrow and her heart seemed void of hope or joy. All +her days had been hard—she who was born to great place among her own wild +people far away, and snatched thence to be a slave, set apart by her race and +blood from those into whose city she was sold; she who would have naught to do +with base men nor become the plaything of those of higher birth; she who had +turned Christian and drunk deep of the tribulations of the faith; she who had +centred all her eager heart upon two beloved women, and lost them both. All her +days had been hard, and here and now, by the side of her dead mistress, she +would have ended them. But the child remained, and while it lived, she would +live. If it died, then perhaps she would die also. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile Nehushta had no time for grief, since the babe must be fed, and +within twelve hours. Yet, as she could not bury her, and would not throw her to +the sharks, she was minded to give her mistress a royal funeral after the +custom of her own Libyan folk. Here was flame, and what pyre could be grander +than this great ship? +</p> + +<p> +Lifting the body from its couch, Nehushta carried it to the deck and laid it by +the broken mast, closing the eyes and folding the hands. Then she loosened from +about the neck those tokens of which Rachel had spoken, made some food and +garments into a bundle, and, carrying the lamp with her, went into the +captain’s cabin amidships. Here a money-box was open, and in it gold and +some jewels which this man had abandoned in his haste. These she took, adding +them to her own store and securing them about her. This done she fired the +cabin, and passing to the hold, broke a jar of oil and fired that also. Then +she fled back again, knelt by her dead mistress and kissed her, took the child, +wrapping it warmly in a shawl, and by the ladder of rope which the sailors had +used, let herself down into the quiet sea. Its waters did not reach higher than +her middle, and soon she was standing on the shore and climbing the sandhills +that lay beyond. At their summit she turned to look, and lo! yonder where the +galley was, already a great pillar of fire shot up to heaven, for there was +much oil in the hold and it burnt furiously. +</p> + +<p> +“Farewell!” she cried, “farewell!” +</p> + +<p> +Then, weeping bitterly, Nehushta walked on inland. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap05"></a>CHAPTER V<br/> +MIRIAM IS ENTHRONED</h2> + +<p> +Presently Nehushta found herself out of sight of the sea and among cultivated +land, for here were vines and fig trees grown in gardens fenced with stone +walls; also patches of ripening barley and of wheat in the ear, much trodden +down as though horses had been feeding there. Beyond these gardens she came to +a ridge, and saw beneath her a village of many houses of green brick, some of +which seemed to have been destroyed by fire. Into this village she walked +boldly, and there the first sight that met her eyes was that of sundry dead +bodies, upon which dogs were feeding. +</p> + +<p> +On she went up the main street, till she saw a woman peeping at her over a +garden wall. +</p> + +<p> +“What has chanced here?” asked Nehushta, in the Syrian tongue. +</p> + +<p> +“The Romans! the Romans! the Romans!” wailed the woman. “The +head of our village quarrelled with the tax-gatherers, and refused to pay his +dues to Cæsar. So the soldiers came a week ago and slaughtered nearly all of +us, and took such sheep and cattle as they could find, and with them many of +the young folk, to be sold as slaves, so that the rest are left empty and +desolate. Such are the things that chance in this unhappy land. But, woman, who +are you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am one shipwrecked!” answered Nehushta, “and I bear with +me a new-born babe—nay, the story is too long to tell you; but if in this +place there is any one who can nurse the babe, I will pay her well.” +</p> + +<p> +“Give it me!” said the woman, in an eager whisper; “my child +perished in the slaughter; I ask no reward.” +</p> + +<p> +Nehushta looked at her. Her eyes were wild, but she was still young and +healthy, a Syrian peasant. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you a house?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, it still stands, and my husband lives; we hid in a cave, but alas! +they slew the infant that was out with the child of a neighbour. Quick, give me +the babe.” +</p> + +<p> +So Nehushta gave it to her, and thus Miriam was nurtured at the breast of one +whose offspring had been murdered because the head of the village had +quarrelled with a Roman tax-collector. Such was the world in the days when +Christ came to save it. +</p> + +<p> +After she had suckled the child the woman led Nehushta to her house, a humble +dwelling that had escaped the fire, where they found the husband, a +wine-grower, mourning the death of his infant and the ruin of his town. To him +she told as much of her story as she thought well, and proffered him a gold +piece, which, so she swore, was one of ten she had about her. He took it +gladly, for now he was penniless, and promised her lodging and protection, and +the service of his wife as nurse to the child for a month at least. So there +Nehushta stayed, keeping herself hid, and at the end of the month gave another +gold piece to her hosts, who were kindly folk that never dreamed of working her +evil or injustice. Seeing this, Nehushta found yet more money, wherewith the +man, blessing her, bought two oxen and a plough, and hired labour to help him +gather what remained of his harvest. +</p> + +<p> +The shore where the infant was born upon the wrecked ship, was at a distance of +about a league from Joppa and two days’ journey from Jerusalem, whence +the Dead Sea could be reached in another two days. When Nehushta had dwelt +there for some six months, as the babe throve and was hearty, she offered to +pay the man and his wife three more pieces of gold if they would travel with +her to the neighbourhood of Jericho, and, further, to purchase a mule and an +ass for the journey, which she would give to them when it was accomplished. The +eyes of these simple folk glistened at the prospect of so much wealth, and they +agreed readily, promising also to stay three months by Jericho, if need were, +till the child could be weaned. So a man was hired to guard the house and +vines, and they started in the late autumn, when the air was cool and pleasant. +</p> + +<p> +Of their journey nothing need be said, save that they accomplished it without +trouble, being too humble in appearance to attract the notice of the thieves +who swarmed upon the highways, or of the soldiers who were set to catch the +thieves. +</p> + +<p> +Skirting Jerusalem, which they did not enter, on the sixth day they descended +into the valley of the Jordan, through the desolate hills by which it is +bordered. Camping that night outside the town, at daybreak on the seventh +morning they started, and by two hours after noon came to the village of the +Essenes. On its outskirts they halted, while Nehushta and the nurse, bearing +with them the child, that by now could wave its arms and crow, advanced boldly +into the village, where it would appear men dwelt only—at least no women +were to be seen—and asked to be led to the Brother Ithiel. +</p> + +<p> +The man to whom they spoke, who was robed in white, and engaged in cooking +outside a large building, averted his eyes in answering, as though it were not +lawful for him to look upon the face of a woman. He said, very civilly, +however, that Brother Ithiel was working in the fields, whence he would not +return till supper time. +</p> + +<p> +Nehushta asked where these fields were, since she desired to speak with him at +once. The man answered that if they walked towards the green trees that lined +the banks of Jordan, which he pointed out to them, they could not fail to find +Ithiel, as he was ploughing in the irrigated land with two white oxen, the only +ones they had. Accordingly they set out again, having the Dead Sea on their +right, and travelled for the half of a league through the thorn-scrub that +grows in this desert. Passing the scrub they came to lands which were well +cultivated and supplied with water from the Jordan by means of wheels and long +poles with a jar at one end and a weight at the other, which a man could work, +emptying the contents of the jar again and again into an irrigation ditch. +</p> + +<p> +In one of these fields they saw the two white oxen at their toil, and behind +them the labourer, a tall man of about fifty years of age, bearded, and having +a calm face and eyes that were very deep and quiet. He was clad in a rough robe +of camel’s hair, fastened about his middle with a leathern girdle, and +wore sandals on his feet. To him they went, asking leave to speak with him, +whereon he halted the oxen and greeted them courteously, but, like the man in +the village, turned his eyes away from the faces of the women. Nehushta bade +the nurse stand back out of hearing, and, bearing the child in her arms, said: +</p> + +<p> +“Sir, tell me, I pray you, if I speak to Ithiel, a priest of high rank +among this people of the Essenes, and brother to the dead lady Miriam, wife of +Benoni the Jew, a merchant of Tyre?” +</p> + +<p> +At the mention of these names Ithiel’s face saddened, then grew calm +again. +</p> + +<p> +“I am so called,” he answered; “and the lady Miriam is my +sister, who now dwells in the happy and eternal country beyond the ocean with +all the blessed”—for so the Essenes imagined that heaven to which +they went when the soul was freed from the vile body. +</p> + +<p> +“The lady Miriam,” continued Nehushta, “had a daughter +Rachel, whose servant I was.” +</p> + +<p> +“Was?” he interrupted, startled from his calm. “Has she then +been put to death by those fierce men and their king, as was as her husband +Demas?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, sir, but she died in childbirth, and this is the babe she +bore”; and she held the sleeping little one towards him, at whom he gazed +earnestly, yes, and bent down and kissed it—since, although they saw so +few of them, the Essenes loved children. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me that sad story,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Sir, I will both tell it and prove it to be true”; and Nehushta +told him all from the beginning to the end, producing to his sight the tokens +which she had taken from the breast of her mistress, and repeating her last +message to him word for word. When she had finished, Ithiel turned away and +mourned a while. Then, speaking aloud, he put up a prayer to God for +guidance—for without prayer these people would not enter upon anything, +however simple—and came back to Nehushta, who stood by the oxen. +</p> + +<p> +“Good and faithful woman,” he said, “who it would seem are +not fickle and light-hearted, or worse, like the multitude of your +sex—perchance because your dark skin shields you from their +temptations—you have set me in a cleft stick, and there I am held fast. +Know that the rule of my order is that we should have naught to do with +females, young or old; therefore how can I receive you or the child?” +</p> + +<p> +“Of the rules of your order, sir, I know nothing,” answered +Nehushta sharply, since the words about the colour of her skin had not pleased +her; “but of the rules of nature I do know, and something of the rules of +God also, for, like my mistress and this infant, I am a Christian. These tell +me, all of them, that to cast out an orphan child who is of your own blood, and +whom a cruel fortune has thus brought to your door, would be an evil act, and +one for which you must answer to Him who is above the rules of any +order.” +</p> + +<p> +“I may not wrangle, especially with a woman,” replied Ithiel, who +seemed ill at ease; “but if my first words are true, this is true also, +that those same rules enjoin upon us hospitality, and above all, that we must +not turn away the helpless or the destitute.” +</p> + +<p> +“Clearly, then, sir, least of any must you turn away this child whose +blood is your blood, and whose dead mother sent her to you, that she might not +fall into the power of a grandfather who has dealt so cruelly with those he +should have cherished, to be brought up among Zealots as a Jew and taught to +make offering of living things, and be anointed with the oil and blood of +sacrifice.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no, the thought is horrible,” answered Ithiel, holding up his +hands. “It is better, far better that she should be a Christian than one +of that fanatic and blood-spilling faith.” This he said, because among +the Essenes the use of oil was held to be unclean. Also above all things, they +loathed the offering of life in sacrifice to God; who, although they did not +acknowledge Christ—perhaps because He was never preached to them, who +would listen to no new religion—practised the most of His doctrines with +the greatest strictness. +</p> + +<p> +“The matter is too hard for me,” he went on. “I must lay it +before a full Court of the hundred curators, and what they decide, that will be +done. Still, this is our rule: to assist those who need and to show mercy, to +accord succour to such as deserve it, and to give food to those in distress. +Therefore, whatever the Court, which it will take three days to summon, may +decide, in the meanwhile I have the right to give you, and those with you, +shelter and provision in the guest-house. As it chances, it is situated in that +part of the village where dwell the lowest of our brethren, who are permitted +to marry, so there you will find company of your own sex.” +</p> + +<p> +“I shall be glad of it,” answered Nehushta drily. “Also I +should call them the highest of the brethren, since marriage is a law of God, +which God the Father has instituted, and God the Son has blessed.” +</p> + +<p> +“I may not wrangle, I may not wrangle,” replied Ithiel, declining +the encounter; “but certainly, that is a lovely babe. Look. Its eyes are +open and they are beautiful as flowers”; and again he bent down and +kissed the child, then added with a groan of remorse, “Alas! sinner that +I am, I am defiled; I must purify myself and do penance.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why?” asked Nehushta shortly. +</p> + +<p> +“For two reasons: I have touched your dress, and I have given way to +earthly passion and embraced a child—twice. Therefore, according to our +rule, I am defiled.” +</p> + +<p> +Then Nehushta could bear it no more. +</p> + +<p> +“Defiled! you puppet of a foolish rule! It is the sweet babe that is +defiled! Look, you have fouled its garments with your grimy hand and made it +weep by pricking it with your beard. Would that your holy rule taught you how +to handle children and to respect honest women who are their mothers, without +whom there would be no Essenes.” +</p> + +<p> +“I may not wrangle,” said Ithiel, nervously; for now woman was +appearing before him in a new light; not as an artful and a fickle, but as an +angry creature, reckless of tongue and not easy to be answered. “These +matters are for the decision of the curators. Have I not told you so? Come, let +us be going. I will drive the oxen, although it is not time to loose them from +the plough, and do you and your companion walk at a distance behind me. No, not +behind—in front, that I may see that you do not drop the babe, or suffer +it to come to any harm. Truly it is sweet to look at, and, may God forgive me, +I do not like to lose sight of its face, which, it seems to me, resembles that +of my sister when she was also in arms.” +</p> + +<p> +“Drop the babe!” began Nehushta; then understanding that this +victim of a rule already loved it dearly, and would suffer much before he +parted with it, pitying his weakness, she said only, “Be careful that you +do not frighten it with your great oxen, for you men who scorn women have much +to learn.” +</p> + +<p> +Then, accompanied by the nurse, she stalked ahead in silence, while Ithiel +followed after at a distance, leading the cattle by the hide loops about their +horns, lest in their curiosity or eagerness to get home, they should do some +mischief to the infant or wake it from its slumbers. In this way they proceeded +to the lower part of the village, till they came to a good house—empty as +it chanced—where guests were accommodated in the best fashion that this +kind and homely folk could afford. Here a woman was summoned, the wife of one +of the lower order of the Essenes, to whom Ithiel spoke, holding his hand +before his eyes, as though she were not good to look at. To her, from a +distance, he explained the case, bidding her to provide all things needful, and +to send a man to bring in the husband of the nurse with the beasts of burden, +and attend to his wants and theirs. Then, warning Nehushta to be very careful +of the infant and not to expose it to the sun, he departed to report the matter +to the curators, and to summon the great Court. +</p> + +<p> +“Are all of them like this?” asked Nehushta of the woman, +contemptuously. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sister,” she answered, “fools, every one. Why, of my +own husband I see little; and although, being married, he ranks but low among +them, the man is forever telling me of the faults of our sex, and how they are +a snare set for the feet of the righteous, and given to the leading of these +same righteous astray, especially if they be not their own husbands. At times I +am tempted indeed to prove his words true. Oh! it would not be difficult for +all their high talk; I have learned as much as that, for Nature is apt to make +a mock of those who deny Nature, and there is no parchment rule that a woman +cannot bring to nothing. Yet, since they mean well, laugh at them and let them +be, say I. And now come into the house, which is good, although did women +manage it, it would be better.” +</p> + +<p> +So Nehushta went into that house with the nurse and her husband, and there for +several days dwelt in great comfort. Indeed, there was nothing that she or the +child, or those with them, could want which was not provided in plenty. +Messages reached her even, through the woman, to ask if she would wish the +rooms altered in any way, and when she said that there was not light enough in +that in which the child slept, some of the elders of the Essenes arrived and +pierced a new window in the wall, working very hard to finish the task before +sunset. Also even the husband of the nurse was not allowed to attend to his own +beasts, which were groomed and fed for him, till at length he grew so weary of +doing nothing, that on the third day he went out to plough with the Essenes and +worked in the fields till dark. +</p> + +<p> +It was on the fourth morning that the full Court gathered in the great +meeting-house, and Nehushta was summoned to appear before it, bringing the babe +with her. Thither she went accordingly, to find the place filled with a hundred +grave and reverend men, all clad in robes of the purest white. In the lower +part of that large chamber she sat alone upon a chair, while before her upon +benches ranged one above the other, so that all could see, were gathered the +hundred curators. +</p> + +<p> +It seemed that Ithiel had already set out the case, since the President at once +began to question her on various points of her story, all of which she was able +to explain to the satisfaction of the Court. Then they debated the matter among +themselves, some of them arguing that as the child was a female, as well as its +nurse, neither of them could properly be admitted to the care of the community, +especially as both were of the Christian faith, and it was stipulated that in +this faith they should remain. Others answered that hospitality was their first +duty, and that he would be weak indeed who was led aside from their rule by a +Libyan woman of middle age and an infant of a few months. Further, that the +Christians were a good people, and that there was much in their doctrines which +tallied with their own. Next, one made a strange objection—namely, that +if they adopted this child they would learn to love it too much, who should +love God and their order only. To this another answered, Nay, they should love +all mankind, and especially the helpless. +</p> + +<p> +“Mankind, not womankind,” was the reply; “for this infant +will grow into a woman.” +</p> + +<p> +Now they desired Nehushta to retire that they might take the votes. Before she +went, however, holding up the child that all could see it as it lay smiling in +her arms, she implored them not to reject the prayer of a dead woman, and so +deprive this infant of the care of the relative whom that departed lady had +appointed to be its guardian, and of the guidance and directing wisdom of their +holy Order. Lastly, she reminded them that if they thrust her out, she must +carry the infant to its grandfather, who, if he received it at all, would +certainly bring it up in the Jewish faith, and thereby, perhaps, cause it to +lose its soul, the weight of which sin would be upon their heads. +</p> + +<p> +After this Nehushta was led away to another chamber and remained there a long +while, till at length she was brought back again by one of the curators. On +entering the great hall her eyes sought the face of Ithiel, who had not been +allowed to speak, since the matter having to do with a great-niece of his own, +it was held that his judgment might be warped. Seeing that he smiled, and +evidently was well pleased, she knew her cause was won. +</p> + +<p> +“Woman,” said the President, “by a great majority of this +Court we have come to an irrevocable decision upon the matter that has been +laid before it by our brother Ithiel. It is, for reasons which I need not +explain, that on this point our rule may be stretched so far as to admit the +child Miriam to our care, even though it be of the female sex, which care is to +endure until she comes to a full age of eighteen years, when she must depart +from among us. During this time no attempt will be made to turn her from her +parents’ faith in which she has been baptised. A house will be given you +to live in, and you will be supplied with the best we have for the use of our +ward Miriam and yourself. Twice a week a deputation of the curators will visit +the house, and stay there for an hour to see that the health of the infant is +good, and that you are doing your duty by it, in which, if you fail, you will +be removed. It is prayed that you will not talk to these curators on matters +which do not concern the child. When she grows old enough the maid Miriam will +be admitted to our gatherings, and instructed also by the most learned amongst +us in all proper matters of letters and philosophy, on which occasions you will +sit at a distance and not interfere unless your care is required. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, that every one may know our decision, we will escort you back to +your house, and to show that we have taken the infant under our care, our +brother Ithiel will carry it while you walk behind and give him such +instruction in this matter as may be needful.” +</p> + +<p> +Accordingly a great procession was formed, headed by the President and ended by +the priests. In the centre of the line marched Ithiel bearing the babe Miriam, +to his evident delight, and Nehushta, who instructed him so vigorously that at +length he grew confused and nearly let it fall. Thereon, setting this detail of +the judgment at defiance, Nehushta snatched it from his arms, calling him a +clumsy and ignorant clown only fit to handle an ox. To this Ithiel made no +answer, nor was he at all wroth, but finished the journey walking behind her +and smiling foolishly. +</p> + +<p> +Thus was the child Miriam, who afterwards came to be called the Queen of the +Essenes, royally escorted to her home. But little did these good men know that +it was not a house which they were giving her, but a throne, built of the pure +gold of their own gentle hearts. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap06"></a>CHAPTER VI<br/> +CALEB</h2> + +<p> +It may be wondered whether any girl who was ever born into the world could +boast a stranger or a happier upbringing than Miriam. She was, it is true, +motherless, but by way of compensation Fate endowed her with several hundred +fathers, each of whom loved her as the apple of his eye. She did not call them +“Father” indeed, a term which under the circumstances they thought +incorrect. To her, one and all, they went by the designation of +“Uncle,” with their name added if she happened to know it, if not +as Uncle simply. It cannot be said, however, that Miriam brought peace to the +community of the Essenes. Indeed, before she had done with them she rent it +with deep and abiding jealousies, to the intense but secret delight of +Nehushta, who, although she became a person of great importance among them as +the one who had immediate charge of their jewel, could never forgive them +certain of their doctrines or their habit of persistent interference. +</p> + +<p> +The domiciliary visits which took place twice a week, and, by special +subsequent resolution passed in full Court, on the Sabbath also, were, to begin +with, the subject of much covert bitterness. At first a standing committee was +appointed to make these visits, of whom Ithiel was one. Before two years had +gone by, however, much murmuring arose in the community upon this matter. It +was pointed out in language that became vehement—for an Essene—that +so much power should not be left in the hands of one fixed set of individuals, +who might become careless or prejudiced, or, worst of all, neglectful of the +welfare of the child who was the guest not of them only, but of the whole +order. It was demanded, therefore, that this committee should change +automatically every month, so that all might serve upon it in turn, Ithiel, as +the blood-relation of Miriam, remaining its only permanent member. This +proposal was opposed by the committee, but as no one else would vote for them +the desired alteration was made. Further, to be removed temporarily, or for +good, from its roster was thenceforth recognised as one of the punishments of +the order. +</p> + +<p> +Indeed, the absurdities to which its existence gave rise, especially as the +girl grew in years, sweetness and beauty, cannot be numbered. Thus, every +visiting member must wash his whole person and clothe himself in clean garments +before he was allowed to approach the child, “lest he should convey to +her any sickness, or impure substance, or odour.” Then there was much +trouble because some members were discovered to be ingratiating themselves with +Miriam by secretly presenting her with gifts of playthings, some of them of +great beauty, which they fashioned from wood, shells, or even hard stones. +Moreover, they purveyed articles of food such as they found the child loved; +and this it was that led to their detection, for, having eaten of them, she was +ill. Thereupon Nehushta, enraged, disclosed the whole plot, using the most +violent language, and, amidst murmurs of “Shame on them!” +designating the offenders by name. They were removed from their office, and it +was decreed that henceforth any gifts made to the child must be offered to her +by the committee as a whole, and not by a single individual, and handed over in +their name by Ithiel, her uncle. +</p> + +<p> +Once, when she was seven years old, and the idol of every brother among the +Essenes, Miriam fell ill with a kind of fever which often strikes children in +the neighbourhood of Jericho and the Dead Sea. Among the brethren were several +skilful and famous physicians, who attended her night and day. But still the +fever could not be abated, and at last, with tears, they announced that they +feared for the child’s life. Then indeed there was lamentation among the +Essenes. For three days and three nights did they wrestle in constant prayer to +God that she might be spared, many of them touching nothing but water during +all that time. Moreover, they sat about at a distance from her house, praying +and seeking tidings. If it was bad they beat their breasts, if good they gave +thanks. Never was the sickbed of a monarch watched with more care or devotion +than that of this little orphan, and never was a recovery—for at length +she did recover—received with greater thankfulness and joy. +</p> + +<p> +This was the truth. These pure and simple men, in obedience to the strict rule +they had adopted, were cut off from all the affections of life. Yet, the +foundation-stone of their doctrine being Love, they who were human must love +something, so they loved this child whom they looked upon as their ward, and +who, as there was none other of her age and sex in their community, had no +rival in their hearts. She was the one joy of their laborious and ascetic +hours; she represented all the sweetness and youth of this self-renewing world, +which to them was so grey and sapless. Moreover, she was a lovely maid, who, +wherever she had been placed, would have bound all to her. +</p> + +<p> +The years went by and the time came when, in obedience to the first decree, +Miriam must be educated. Long were the discussions which ensued among the +curators of the Essenes. At length three of the most learned of their body were +appointed to this task, and the teaching began. As it chanced, Miriam proved an +apt pupil, for her memory was good, and she had a great desire to learn many +things, more especially history and languages, and all that has to do with +nature. One of her tutors was an Egyptian, who, brought up in the +priests’ college at Thebes, when on a journey to Judæa had fallen sick +near Jericho, been nursed by the Essenes and converted to their doctrine. From +him Miriam learnt much of their ancient civilisation, and even of the inner +mysteries of the Egyptian religion, and of its high and secret interpretations +which were known only to the priests. The second, Theophilus by name, was a +Greek who had visited Rome, and he taught her the tongues and literature of +those countries. The third, all his life long had studied beasts and birds and +insects, and the workings of nature, and the stars and their movements, in +which things he instructed her day by day, taking her abroad with him that +examples of each of them might be before her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +Lastly, when she grew older, there was a fourth master, who was an artist. He +taught Miriam how to model animals, and even men, in the clay of the Jordan, +and how to carve them out in marble, and something of the use of pigments. Also +this man, who was very clever, had a knowledge of singing and instrumental +music, which he imparted to her in her odd hours. Thus it came about that +Miriam grew learned and well acquainted with many matters of which most girls +of her day and years had never even heard. Nor did she lack knowledge of the +things of her own faith, though in these the Essenes did not instruct her +further than its doctrines tallied with their own. Of the rest, Nehushta told +her something; moreover, on several occasions Christian travellers or preachers +visited this country to address the Essenes or the other Jews who dwelt there. +When they learned her case, these showed themselves very eager to inform her of +the Christian doctrine. Among them was one old man who had heard the preaching +of Jesus Christ, and been present at His Crucifixion, to all of which histories +the girl listened with eagerness, remembering them to the last hour of her +life. +</p> + +<p> +Further, and perhaps this was the best part of her education, she lived in the +daily company of Nature. But a mile or two away spread the Dead Sea, and along +its melancholy and lifeless shores, fringed with the white trunks of trees that +had been brought down by Jordan, she would often walk. Before her day by day +loomed the mountains of Moab, while behind her were the fantastic and +mysterious sand-hills of the desert, backed again by other mountains and that +grey, tormented country which stretches between Jericho and Jerusalem. Quite +near at hand also ran the broad and muddy Jordan, whose fertile banks were +clothed in spring with the most delicious greenery and haunted by kingfishers, +cranes, wildfowl, and many other birds. About these banks, too, stretching into +the desert land beyond, the flowers of the field grew by myriads, at different +periods of the year carpeting the whole earth with various colours, brilliant +as are those of the rainbow. These it was her delight to gather, and even to +cultivate in the garden of her house. +</p> + +<p> +Thus wisdom, earthly and divine, was gathered in Miriam’s heart till very +soon its light began to shine through her eyes and face, making them ever more +tender and beautiful. Nor did she lack charm and grace of person. From the +first, in stature she was small and delicate, pale also in complexion; but her +dark hair was plenteous and curling, and her eyes were large and of a deep and +tender blue. Her hands and feet were very slender, and her every gesture quick +and agile as that of a bird. Thus she grew up loving all things and beloved by +all; for even the flowers which she tended and the creatures that she fed, +seemed in her to find a friend. +</p> + +<p> +Now of so much learning and all this system of solemn ordered hours, Nehushta +did not approve. For a while she bore with it, but when Miriam was about eleven +years of age, she spoke her mind to the Committee and through them to the +governing Court of Curators. +</p> + +<p> +Was it right that a child should be brought up thus, she asked, and turned into +a grave old woman whilst, quite heedless of such things, others of her age were +occupied with youthful games? The end of it might be that her brain would break +and she would die or become crazy, and then what good would so much wisdom do +her? It was necessary that she should have more leisure and other children with +whom she could associate. +</p> + +<p> +“White-bearded hermits,” she added with point, “were not +suitable as sole companions to a little maid.” +</p> + +<p> +Thereon followed much debate and consultation with the doctors, who agreed that +friends of her own years should be found for the child. This, however, proved +difficult, since among these Essenes were no other girls. Therefore those +friends must be of the male sex. Here too were difficulties, as at that time, +of the lads adopted by this particular community which they were destined to +join in after days, there was but one of equal birth with Miriam. Now so far as +concerned their own order the Essenes thought little of social distinctions, or +even of the differences of blood and race. But Miriam was not of their order; +she was their guest, no more, to whom they stood in the place of parents, and +who would go from them out into the great world. Therefore, notwithstanding +their childlike simplicity, being, many of them, men experienced in life, they +did not think it right that she should mix with those of lower breeding. +</p> + +<p> +This one lad, Caleb by name, was born in the same year as Miriam, when Cuspius +Fadus became governor on the death of Agrippa. His father was a Jew of very +high rank named Hilliel, who, although he sided from time to time with the +Roman party, was killed by them, or perished among the twenty thousand who were +trampled to death at the Feast of the Passover at Jerusalem, when Cumanus, the +Procurator, ordered his soldiers to attack the people. Thereon the Zealots, who +considered him a traitor, managed to get possession of all his property, so +that his son Caleb, whose mother was dead, was brought in a destitute condition +by one of her friends to Jericho. There, as she could not dispose of him +otherwise, he was given over to the Essenes, to be educated in their doctrine, +and, should he wish it, to enter their order when he reached full age. This +lad, it was now decreed, should become the playmate of Miriam, a decision that +pleased both of them very well. +</p> + +<p> +Caleb was a handsome child with quick, dark eyes that watched everything +without seeming to watch, and black hair which curled upon his shoulders. He +was clever also and brave; but though he did his best to control his temper, by +nature very passionate and unforgiving. Moreover, that which he desired he +would have, if by any means it could be obtained, and was faithful in his loves +as in his hates. Of these hates Nehushta was one. With all the skill of a +Libyan, whose only book is that of Nature and men’s faces, she read the +boy’s heart at once and said openly that he might come to be the first in +any cause—if he did not betray it—and that when God mixed his blood +of the best, lest Cæsar should find a rival He left out the salt of honesty and +filled up the cup with the wine of passion. When these sayings were repeated to +Caleb by Miriam, who thought them to be a jest fit to tease her playmate with, +he did not fly into one of his tempers, as she had hoped, but only screwed up +his eyelids after his fashion in certain moods, and looked black as the +rain-storm above Mount Nebo. +</p> + +<p> +“Did you hear, Caleb?” asked Miriam, somewhat disappointed. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes! Lady Miriam,” for so he had been ordered to call her. +“I heard. Do you tell that old black woman that I will lead more causes +than she ever thought of, for I mean to be the first everywhere. Also that +whatever God left out of my cup, at least He mixed it with a good +memory.” +</p> + +<p> +When Nehushta heard this, she laughed and said that it was true enough, only he +that tried to climb several ladders at once generally fell to the ground, and +that when a head had said good-bye to its shoulders, the best of memories got +lost between the two. +</p> + +<p> +Miriam liked Caleb, but she never loved him as she did the old men, her uncles, +or Nehushta, who to her was more than all. Perhaps this may have been because +he never grew angry with her whatever she might say or do, never even spoke to +her roughly, but always waited on her pleasure and watched for her wish. Still, +of all companions he was the best. If Miriam desired to walk by the Dead Sea, +he would desire the same. If she wanted to go fishing in the Jordan, he would +make ready the baits or net, and take the fishes off the hook—a thing she +hated. If she sought a rare flower, Caleb would hunt it out for days, although +she knew well that in himself he did not care for flowers, and when he had +found it, would mark the spot and lead her there in triumph. Also there was +this about him, as she was soon quick enough to learn: he worshipped her. +Whatever else might be false, that note in his nature rang true. If one child +could love another, then Caleb loved Miriam, first with the love of children, +then as a man loves a woman. Only—and this was the sorrow of +it—Miriam never loved Caleb. Had she done so both their stories would +have been very different. To her he was a clever companion and no more. +</p> + +<p> +What made the thing more strange was that he loved no one else, except, mayhap, +himself. In this way and in that the lad soon came to learn his own history, +which was sad enough, with the result that if he hated the Romans who had +invaded the country and trampled it beneath their heel, still more did he hate +those of the Jews who looked upon his father as their enemy and had stolen all +the lands and goods that were his by right. As for the Essenes who reared and +protected him, so soon as he came to an age when he could weigh such matters, +he held them in contempt, and because of their continual habit of bathing +themselves and purifying their garments, called them the company of +washer-women. On him their doctrines left but a shallow mark. He thought, as he +explained to Miriam, that people who were in the world should take the world as +they found it, without dreaming ceaselessly of another world to which, as yet, +they did not belong; a sentiment that to some extent Nehushta shared. +</p> + +<p> +Wishing, with the zeal of the young, to make a convert, Miriam preached to him +the doctrine of Christianity, but without success. By blood Caleb was a Jew of +the Jews, and could not understand or admire a God who would consent to be +trodden under foot and crucified. The Messiah he desired to follow must be a +great conqueror, one who would overthrow the Cæsars and take the throne of +Cæsar, not a humble creature with his mouth full of maxims. Like the majority +of his own, and, indeed, of every generation, to the last day of his life, +Caleb was unable to divine that mind is greater than matter, while spirit is +greater than mind; and that in the end, by many slow advances and after many +disasters seemingly irremediable, spirituality will conquer all. He looked to a +sword flashing from thrones, not to the word of truth spoken by lowly lips in +humble streets or upon the flanks of deserts, trusting to the winds of Grace to +bear it into the hearts of men and thus regenerate their souls. +</p> + +<p> +Such was Caleb, and these things are said of him here because the child is +father to the man. +</p> + +<p> +Swiftly the years went by. There were tumults in Judæa and massacres in +Jerusalem. False prophets such as Theudas, who pretended that he could divide +Jordan, attracted thousands to their tinsel standards, to be hewn down, poor +folk! by the Roman legions. Cæsars rose and fell; the great Temple was at +length almost completed in its glory, and many events happened which are +remembered even to this day. +</p> + +<p> +But in the little village of the Essenes by the grey shores of the Dead Sea, +nothing seemed to change, except that now and again an aged brother died, and +now and again a new brother was admitted. They rose before daylight and offered +their invocation to the sun; they went out to toil in the fields and sowed +their crops, to reap them in due season, thankful if they were good, still +thankful if they were bad. They washed, they prayed, they mourned over the +wickedness of the world, and wove themselves white garments emblematic of a +better. Also, although of this Miriam knew nothing, they held higher and more +secret services wherein they invoked the presence of their +“angels,” and by arts of divination that were known to them, +foretold the future, an exercise which brought them little joy. But as yet, +however evil might be the omens, none came to molest their peaceful life, which +ran quietly towards the great catastrophe as often deep waters swirl to the lip +of a precipice. +</p> + +<p> +At length when Miriam was seventeen years of age, the first stroke of trouble +fell upon them. +</p> + +<p> +From time to time the high priests at Jerusalem, who hated the Essenes as +heretics, had made demands upon them that they should pay tithe for the support +of the sacrifices in the Temple. This they refused to do, since all sacrifices +were hateful to them. So things went on until the day of the high priest +Ananos, who sent armed men to the village of the Essenes to take the tithes. +These were refused to them, whereon they broke open the granary and helped +themselves, destroying a great deal which they could not carry away. As it +chanced, on that day Miriam, accompanied by Nehushta, had visited Jericho. +Returning in the afternoon they passed through a certain torrent bed in which +were many rocks, and among them thickets of thorn trees. Here they were met by +Caleb, now a noble-looking youth very strong and active, who carried a bow in +his hand and on his back a sheath of six arrows. +</p> + +<p> +“Lady Miriam,” he said, “well met. I have come to seek you, +and to warn you not to return by the road to-day, since on it you will meet +presently those thieves sent by the high priest to plunder the stores of the +Order, who, perhaps, will offer you insult or mischief, for they are drunk with +wine. Look, one of them has struck me,” and he pointed to a bruise upon +his shoulder and scowled. +</p> + +<p> +“What then shall we do?” asked Miriam. “Go back to +Jericho?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, for there they will come too. Follow up this gully till you reach +the footpath a mile away, and by it walk to the village; so you will miss these +robbers.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is a good plan,” said Nehushta. “Come, lady.” +</p> + +<p> +“Whither are you going, Caleb?” asked Miriam, lingering, since she +saw that he did not mean to accompany them. +</p> + +<p> +“I? Oh, I shall hide among the rocks near by till the men are passed, and +then go to seek that hyena which has been worrying the sheep. I have tracked +him down and may catch him as he comes from his hole at sunset. That is why I +have brought my bow and arrows.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come,” broke in Nehushta impatiently, “come. The lad well +knows how to guard himself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Be careful, Caleb, that you get no hurt from the hyena,” said +Miriam, doubtfully, as Nehushta seized her by the wrist and dragged her away. +“It is strange,” she added as they went, “that Caleb should +choose this evening to go hunting.” +</p> + +<p> +“Unless I mistake, it is a human hyena whom he hunts,” answered +Nehushta shortly. “One of those men struck him, and he desires to wash +the wound with his blood.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, surely not! Nou. That would be taking vengeance, and revenge is +evil.” +</p> + +<p> +Nehushta shrugged her shoulders. “Caleb may think otherwise, as I do at +times. Wait, and we shall see.” +</p> + +<p> +As it chanced, they did see something. The footpath by which they returned to +the village ran over a high ridge of ground, and from its crest, although they +were a mile or more away, in that clear desert air they could easily discern +the line of the high priest’s servants straggling along, driving before +them a score or so of mules, laden with wine and other produce which they had +stolen from the stores. Presently the company of them descended into that gully +along which the road ran, whence a minute or two later rose a sound of distant +shouting. Then they appeared on the further side, running, or riding their +beasts hither and thither, as though in search of some one, while four of them +carried between them a man who seemed to be hurt, or dead. +</p> + +<p> +“I think that Caleb has shot his hyena,” said Nehushta meaningly; +“but I have seen nothing, and if you are wise, you will say nothing. I do +not like Caleb, but I hate these Jewish thieves, and it is not for you to bring +your friend into trouble.” +</p> + +<p> +Miriam looked frightened but nodded her head, and no more was said of the +matter. +</p> + +<p> +That evening, as Miriam and Nehushta stood at the door of their house in the +cool, by the light of the full moon they saw Caleb advancing towards them down +the road, a sight that made Miriam glad at heart, for she feared lest he might +have come into trouble. Catching sight of them, he asked permission to enter +through the door, which he closed behind them, so that now they stood in the +little garden within the wall. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said Nehushta, “I see that you had a shot at your +hyena; did you kill it?” +</p> + +<p> +“How do you know that?” he asked, looking at her suspiciously. +</p> + +<p> +“A strange question to put to a Libyan woman who was brought up among +bowmen,” she replied. “You had six arrows in your quiver when we +met you, and now I count but five. Also your bow was newly waxed; and look, the +wax is rubbed where the shaft lay.” +</p> + +<p> +“I shot at the beast, and, as I think, hit it. At least, I could not find +the arrow again, although I searched long.” +</p> + +<p> +“Doubtless. You do not often miss. You have a good eye and a steady hand. +Well, the loss of a shaft will not matter, since I noticed, also, that this one +was differently barbed from the others, and double feathered; a true Roman +war-shaft, such as they do not make here. If any find your wounded beast you +will not get its hide, since it is known that you do not use such +arrows.” Then, with a smile that was full of meaning, Nehushta turned and +entered the house, leaving him staring after her, half in wrath and half in +wonder at her wit. +</p> + +<p> +“What does she mean?” he asked Miriam, but in the voice of one who +speaks to himself. +</p> + +<p> +“She thinks that you shot at a man, not at a beast,” replied +Miriam; “but I know well that you could not have done this, since that +would be against the rule of the Essenes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Even the rule of the Essenes permits a man to protect himself and his +property from thieves,” he answered sulkily. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, to protect himself if he is attacked, and his property—if he +has any. But neither that faith nor mine permits him to avenge a blow.” +</p> + +<p> +“I was one against many,” he answered boldly. “My life was on +the hazard: it was no coward’s act.” +</p> + +<p> +“Were there, then, a troop of these hyenas?” asked Miriam, +innocently. “I thought you said it was a solitary beast that took the +sheep.” +</p> + +<p> +“It was a whole company of beasts who took the wine, and smote those in +charge of it as though they were street dogs.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hyenas that took wine like the tame ape whom the boys make drunken over +yonder——” +</p> + +<p> +“Why do you mock me,” broke in Caleb, “who must know the +truth? Or if you do not know it, here it is. That thief beat me with his staff, +and called me the son of a dog, and I swore that I would pay him back. Pay him +back I did, for the head of that shaft which Nehushta noted, stands out a span +beyond his neck. They never saw who shot it; they never saw me at all, who +thought at first that the man had fallen from his horse. By the time they knew +the truth I was away where they could not follow. Now go and tell the story if +you will, or let Nehushta, who hates me, tell it, and give me over to be +tortured by the servants of the high priest, or crucified as a murderer by the +Romans.” +</p> + +<p> +“Neither Nehushta nor I saw this deed done, nor shall we bear witness +against you, Caleb, or judge you, who doubtless were provoked by violent and +lawless men. Yet, Caleb, you told me that you came out to warn us, and it +grieves me to learn that the true wish of your heart was to take the life of a +man.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is false,” he answered angrily; “I said that I came to +warn you, and afterwards to kill a hyena. To make you safe—that was my +first thought, and until you were safe my enemy was safe also. Miriam, you know +it well.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why should I know it? To you, Caleb, I think revenge is more than +friendship.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps; for I have few friends who am a penniless orphan brought up by +charity. But, Miriam, to me revenge is not more than—love.” +</p> + +<p> +“Love,” she stammered, turning crimson to her hair and stepping +back a pace; “what do you mean, Caleb?” +</p> + +<p> +“What I say, neither more nor less,” he answered sullenly. +“As I have worked one crime to-day, I may as well work two, and dare to +tell the lady Miriam, the Queen of the Essenes, that I love her, though she +loves not me—as yet.” +</p> + +<p> +“This is madness,” faltered Miriam. +</p> + +<p> +“Mayhap, but it is a madness which began when first I saw you—that +was soon after we learned to speak—a madness which will continue until I +cease to see you, and that shall be soon before I grow silent forever. Listen, +Miriam, and do not think my words only those of a foolish boy, for all my life +shall prove them. This love of mine is a thing with which you must reckon. You +love me not—therefore, even had I the power, I would not force myself +upon you against your will; only I warn you, learn to love no other man, for +then it shall go ill either with him or with me. By this I swear it,” +and, snatching her to him, Caleb kissed her on the forehead, then let her go, +saying, “Fear not. It is the first and last time, except by your own +will. Or if you fear, tell the story to the Court of the Essenes, and—to +Nehushta, who will right your wrongs.” +</p> + +<p> +“Caleb,” she gasped, stamping her foot upon the ground in anger, +“Caleb, you are more wicked than I dreamed, and,” she added, as +though to herself—“and greater!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” he answered, as he turned to go, “I think that you are +right. I am more wicked than you dreamed and—greater. Also, Miriam, I +love you as you will never be loved again. Farewell!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap07"></a>CHAPTER VII<br/> +MARCUS</h2> + +<p> +That night those of the curators who were engaged in prayer and fasting were +disturbed by the return of an officer of those Jews that had robbed them, who +complained violently that a man of his company had been murdered by one of the +Essenes. They asked how and when, and were told that the man had been shot down +with an arrow, in a gully upon the road to Jericho, by a person unknown. They +replied that robbers sometimes met with robbers, and asked to see the arrow, +which proved to be of a Roman make, such as these men carried in their own +quivers. This the Essenes pointed out, and at length, growing angry at the +unreasonableness of a complaint made by persons of the worst character, drove +him and his escort from their doors, bidding them take their story to the high +priest Ananos, with the goods which they had stolen, or, if they preferred it, +to that still greater thief, the Roman procurator, Albinus. +</p> + +<p> +This they did not neglect to do, with the result that presently the Essenes +were commanded to send some of their head men to appear before Albinus to +answer the charges laid against them. Accordingly they dispatched Ithiel and +two others, who were kept waiting three months at Jerusalem before they could +even obtain a hearing. At length the cause came on, and after some few minutes +of talk was adjourned, being but a petty matter. That same evening Ithiel was +informed by an intermediary that if his Order would pay a certain large sum of +money to Albinus, nothing more would be heard of the question. This the Essenes +refused to do, as it was against their principles, saying that they demanded +nothing but justice, which they were not prepared to buy. So they spoke, being +ignorant that one of their neophytes, Caleb, had in fact aimed the fatal arrow. +</p> + +<p> +Then Albinus, wearying of the business and finding that there was no profit to +be made out of the Essenes, commanded them to be gone, saying that he would +send an officer to make inquiry on the spot. +</p> + +<p> +Another two months went by, and at length this officer arrived, attended by an +escort of twenty soldiers. +</p> + +<p> +As it chanced, on a certain morning in the winter season, Miriam with Nehushta +was walking on the Jericho road, when suddenly they saw approaching towards +them this little body of armed men. Perceiving that they were Romans, they +turned out of the path to hide themselves among the thorns of the desert. +Thereon he who seemed to be the officer spurred his horse forward to intercept +them. +</p> + +<p> +“Do not run—stand still,” said Nehushta to Miriam, “and +show no sign of fear.” +</p> + +<p> +So Miriam halted and began to gather a few autumn flowers that still bloomed +among the bushes, till the shadow of the officer fell upon her—that +shadow in which she was destined to walk all her life-days. +</p> + +<p> +“Lady,” said a pleasant voice in Greek, spoken with a somewhat +foreign accent—“lady, pardon, and I pray you, do not be alarmed. I +am a stranger to this part of the country, which I visit on official business. +Will you of your kindness direct me to the village of a people called Essenes, +who live somewhere in this desert?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, sir!” answered Miriam, “do you, who come with Roman +soldiers, mean them any harm?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not I. But why do you ask?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because, sir, I am of their community.” +</p> + +<p> +The officer stared at her—this beautiful, blue-eyed, white-skinned, +delicate-featured girl, whose high blood proclaimed itself in every tone and +gesture. +</p> + +<p> +“You, lady, of the community of the Essenes! Surely then those priests in +Jerusalem lie more deeply than I thought. They told me that the Essenes were +old ascetics who worship Apollo, and could not bear so much as the sight of a +woman. And now you say you are an Essene—you, by Bacchus! you!” and +he looked at her with an admiration which, although there was nothing brutal or +even rude about it, was amusingly undisguised. +</p> + +<p> +“I am their guest,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“Their guest? Why, this is stranger still. If these spiritual +outlaws—the word is that old high priest’s, not mine—share +their bread and water with such guests, my sojourn among them will be happier +than I thought.” +</p> + +<p> +“They brought me up, I am their ward,” Miriam explained again. +</p> + +<p> +“In truth, my opinion of the Essenes rises, and I am convinced that those +priests slandered them. If they can shape so sweet a lady, surely they must +themselves be good and gentle”; and he bowed gravely, perhaps to mark the +compliment. +</p> + +<p> +“Sir, they are both good and gentle,” answered Miriam; “but +of this you will be able to judge for yourself very shortly, seeing that they +live near at hand. If you will follow us over yonder rise we will show you +their village, whither we go.” +</p> + +<p> +“By your leave, I will accompany you,” he said, dismounting before +she could answer; then added, “Pardon me for one moment—I must give +some orders,” and he called to a soldier, who, with his companions, had +halted at a little distance. +</p> + +<p> +The man advanced saluting, and, turning aside, his captain began to talk with +him, so that now, for the first time, Miriam could study his face. He was +young—not more than five or six and twenty years of age—of middle +height, and somewhat slender, but active in movement and athletic in build. +Upon his head, which was round and not large, in place of the helmet that hung +at his saddle-bow, he wore a little cap, steel lined and padded as a protection +against the sun, and beneath it she could see that his short, dark brown hair +curled closely. Under the tan caused by exposure to the heat, his skin was +fair, and his grey eyes, set rather wide apart, were quick and observant. For +the rest, his mouth was well-shaped, though somewhat large, and the chin +clean-shaved, prominent and determined. His air was that of a soldier +accustomed to command, but very genial, and, when he smiled, showing his +regular white teeth, even merry—the air of one with a kind and generous +heart. +</p> + +<p> +Miriam looked at him, and in an instant was aware that she liked him better +than any man—that is any young man—she had ever seen. This, +however, was no great or exclusive compliment to the Roman, since of such +acquaintances she had but few, if, indeed, Caleb was not the only one. However, +of this she was sure, she liked him better than Caleb, because, even then and +there, comparing them in her thoughts, this truth came home to her; with it, +too, a certain sense of shame that the newcomer should be preferred to the +friend of her childhood, although of late that friend had displeased her by +showing too warm a friendship. +</p> + +<p> +Having given his instructions, the captain dismissed the orderly, commanding +him to follow at a distance with the men. Then saying, “Lady, I am +ready,” he began to walk forward, leading his horse by the bridle. +</p> + +<p> +“You will forgive me,” he added, “if I introduce myself more +formally. I am called Marcus, the son of Emilius—a name which was known +in its day,” and he sighed, “as I hope before I have done with it, +mine will be. At present I cannot boast that this is so, who, unless it should +please my uncle Caius to decease and leave me the great fortune he squeezes out +of the Spaniards—neither of which things he shows any present intention +of doing—am but a soldier of fortune: an officer under the command of the +excellent and most noble procurator Albinus,” he added sarcastically. +“For the rest,” he went on, “I have spent a year in this +interesting and turbulent but somewhat arid land of yours, coming here from +Egypt, and am now honoured with a commission to investigate and make report on +a charge laid at the door of your virtuous guardians, the Essenes, of having +murdered, or been privy to the murder of, a certain rascally Jew, who, as I +understand, was sent with others to steal their goods. That, lady, is my style +and history. By way of exchange, will you be pleased to tell me yours?” +</p> + +<p> +Miriam hesitated, not being sure whether she should enter on such confidences +at so short a notice. Thereon, Nehushta, who was untroubled by doubts, and +thought it politic to be quite open with this Roman, a man in authority, +answered for her. +</p> + +<p> +“Lord, this maiden, whose servant I am, as I was that of her grandmother +and mother before her——” +</p> + +<p> +“Surely you cannot be so old,” interrupted Marcus. He made it a +rule to be polite to all women, whatever their colour, having noticed that life +went more easily with those who were courteous to the sex. +</p> + +<p> +Nehushta smiled a little as she answered—for at what age does a woman +learn to despise a compliment?—“Lord, they both died young”; +then repeated, “This maiden is the only child of the high-born +Græco-Syrian of Tyre, Demas, and his noble wife, Rachel——” +</p> + +<p> +“I know Tyre,” he interrupted. “I was quartered there till +two months ago”; adding in a different tone, “I understand that +this pair no longer live.” +</p> + +<p> +“They died,” said Nehushta sadly, “the father in the +amphitheatre at Berytus by command of the first Agrippa, and the mother when +her child was born.” +</p> + +<p> +“In the amphitheatre at Berytus? Was he then a malefactor?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, sir,” broke in Miriam proudly; “he was a +Christian.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! I understand. Well, they are ill-spoken of as enemies of the human +race, but for my part I have had to do with several Christians and found them +very good people, though visionary in their views.” Here a doubt struck +him and he said, “But, lady, I understand that you are an Essene.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, sir,” she replied in the same steady voice, “I also am +a Christian, who have been protected by the Essenes.” +</p> + +<p> +He looked at her with pity and replied, “It is a dangerous profession for +one so young and fair.” +</p> + +<p> +“Dangerous let it be,” she said; “at least it is mine from +the beginning to the end.” +</p> + +<p> +Marcus bowed, perceiving that the subject was not to be pursued, and said to +Nehushta, “Continue the story, my friend.” +</p> + +<p> +“Lord, the father of my lady’s mother is a very wealthy Jewish +merchant of Tyre, named Benoni.” +</p> + +<p> +“Benoni,” he said, “I know him well, too well for a poor +man!—a Jew of the Jews, a Zealot, they say. At least he hates us Romans +enough to be one, although many is the dinner that I have eaten at his palace. +He is the most successful trader in all Tyre, unless it be his rival Amram, the +Phœnician, but a hard man, and as able as he is hard. Now I think of it, he +has no living children, so why does not your lady, his grandchild, dwell with +him rather than in this desert?” +</p> + +<p> +“Lord, you have answered your own question. Benoni is a Jew of the Jews; +his granddaughter is a Christian, as I am also. Therefore when her mother died, +I brought her here to be taken care of by her uncle Ithiel the Essene, and I do +not think Benoni knows even that she lives. Lord, perhaps I have said too much; +but you must soon have heard the story from the Essenes, and we trust to you, +who chance to be Benoni’s friend, to keep our secret from him.” +</p> + +<p> +“You do not trust in vain; yet it seems sad that all the wealth and +station which are hers by right should thus be wasted.” +</p> + +<p> +“Lord, rank and station are not everything; freedom of faith and person +are more than these. My lady lacks for nothing, and—this is all her +story.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not quite, friend; you have not told me her name.” +</p> + +<p> +“Lord, it is Miriam.” +</p> + +<p> +“Miriam, Miriam,” he repeated, his slightly foreign accent dwelling +softly on the syllables. “It is a very pretty name, befitting such +a——” and he checked himself. +</p> + +<p> +By now they were on the crest of the rise, and, stopping between two clumps of +thorn trees, Miriam broke in hastily: +</p> + +<p> +“See, sir, there below lies the village of the Essenes; those green trees +to the left mark the banks of Jordan, whence we irrigate our fields, while that +grey stretch of water to the right, surrounded by a wall of mountain, is the +Dead Sea.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is it so? Well, the green is pleasant in this desert, and those fields +look well cultivated. I hope to visit them some day, for I was brought up in +the country, and, although I am a soldier, still understand a farm. As for the +Dead Sea, it is even more dreary than I expected. Tell me, lady, what is that +large building yonder?” +</p> + +<p> +“That,” she answered, “is the gathering hall of the +Essenes.” +</p> + +<p> +“And that?” he asked, pointing to a house which stood by itself. +</p> + +<p> +“That is my home, where Nehushta and I dwell.” +</p> + +<p> +“I guessed as much by the pretty garden.” Then he asked her other +questions, which she answered freely enough, for Miriam, although she was half +Jewish, had been brought up among men, and felt neither fear nor shame in +talking with them in a friendly and open fashion, as an Egyptian or a Roman or +a Grecian lady might have done. +</p> + +<p> +While they were still conversing thus, of a sudden the bushes on their path +were pushed aside, and from between them emerged Caleb, of whom she had seen +but little of late. He halted and looked at them. +</p> + +<p> +“Friend Caleb,” said Miriam, “this is the Roman captain +Marcus, who comes to visit the curators of the Order. Will you lead him and his +soldiers to the council hall and advise my uncle Ithiel and the others of his +coming, since it is time for us to go home?” +</p> + +<p> +Caleb glared at her, or rather at the stranger, with sullen fury; then he +answered: +</p> + +<p> +“Romans always make their own road; they do not need a Jew to guide +them,” and once more he vanished into the scrub on the further side of +the path. +</p> + +<p> +“Your friend is not civil,” said Marcus, as he watched him go. +“Indeed, he has an inhospitable air. Now, if an Essene could do such a +thing, I should think that here is a man who might have drawn an arrow upon a +Jewish tax-gatherer,” and he looked inquiringly at Miriam. +</p> + +<p> +“That lad!” put in Nehushta. “Why, he never shot anything +larger than a bird of prey.” +</p> + +<p> +“Caleb,” added Miriam in excuse, “does not like +strangers.” +</p> + +<p> +“So I see,” answered Marcus; “and to be frank, lady, I do not +like Caleb. He has an eye like a knife-point.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come, Nehushta,” said Miriam, “this is our road, and there +runs that of the captain and his company. Sir, farewell, and thank you for your +escort.” +</p> + +<p> +“Lady, for this while farewell, and thank you for your guidance.” +</p> + +<p> +Thus for that day they parted. +</p> + +<p> +The dwelling which many years before had been built by the Essenes for the use +of their ward and her nurse, stood next to the large guest-house. Indeed, it +occupied a portion of the ground which originally belonged to it, although now +the plot was divided into two gardens by an irrigation ditch and a live +pomegranate fence, covered at this season of the year with its golden globes of +fruit. That evening, as Miriam and Nehushta walked in the garden, they heard +the familiar voice of Ithiel calling to them from the other side of this fence, +and presently above it saw his kindly face and venerable white head. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it, my uncle?” asked Miriam running to him. +</p> + +<p> +“Only this, child; the noble Roman captain, Marcus, is to stay in the +guest-house during his visit to us, so do not be frightened if you hear or see +men moving about in this garden—If, indeed, Romans care to walk in +gardens. I am to bide here also, to play host to him and see that he lacks +nothing. Also I do not think that he will give you any trouble, since, for a +Roman, he seems both courteous and kindly.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am not afraid, my uncle,” said Miriam; “indeed,” she +added, blushing a little in spite of herself, “Nehushta and I have +already become acquainted with this captain”; and she told him of their +meeting beyond the village. +</p> + +<p> +“Nehushta, Nehushta,” said Ithiel reprovingly, “have I not +said to you that you should not walk so far afield without some of the brethren +as an escort? You might, perchance, have met thieves, or drunken men.” +</p> + +<p> +“My lady wished to gather some flowers she sought,” answered +Nehushta, “as she has done without harm for many a year; and being armed, +I did not fear thieves, if such men are to be found where all are poor.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, well, as it chances, no harm has happened; but do not go out +unattended again, lest the soldiers should not be so courteous as their +captain. They will not trouble you by the way, since, with the exception of a +single guard, they camp yonder by the streamlet. Farewell for this night, my +child; we will meet to-morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +Then Miriam went to rest and dreamed of the Roman captain, and that he, she, +and Nehushta made a journey together and met with many great adventures, +wherein Caleb played some strange part. In that dream the captain Marcus +protected them from all these dangers, till at length they came to a calm sea, +on which floated a single white ship wherein they must embark, having the sign +of the Cross woven in its sails. Then she awoke and found that it was morning. +</p> + +<p> +Of all the arts she had been taught, Miriam was fondest of that of modelling in +clay, for which she had a natural gift. Indeed, so great had her skill become, +that these models which she made, after they had been baked with fire, were, at +her wish, sold by the Essenes to any who took a fancy to them. As to the money +which they fetched, it was paid into a fund to be distributed among the poor. +</p> + +<p> +This art Miriam carried on in a reed-thatched shed in the garden, where, by an +earthen pipe, water was delivered into a stone basin, which she used to damp +her clay and cloths. Sometimes also, with the help of masons and the master who +had taught her, now a very old man, she copied these models in marble, which +the Essenes brought to her from the ruins of a palace near Jericho. At the time +that the Romans came she was finishing a work more ambitious than any which she +had undertaken as yet; namely, a life-sized bust cut from the fragment of an +ancient column to the likeness of her great-uncle, Ithiel. On the afternoon +following the day that she met Marcus, clad in her white working-robe, she was +occupied in polishing this bust, with the assistance of Nehushta, who handed +her the cloths and grinding-powder. Suddenly shadows fell upon her, and +turning, she beheld Ithiel and the Roman. +</p> + +<p> +“Daughter,” said Ithiel, smiling at her confusion, “I have +brought the captain Marcus to see your work.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my uncle!” she replied indignantly, “am I in a state to +receive any captain?” and she held out her wet hands and pointed to her +garments begrimed with clay and powder. “Look at me.” +</p> + +<p> +“I look,” said Ithiel innocently, “and see naught +amiss.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I look, lady,” added Marcus in his merry voice, “and see +much to admire. Would that more of your sex could be found thus delightfully +employed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Alas, sir,” she replied, adroitly misunderstanding him, for Miriam +did not lack readiness, “in this poor work there is little to admire. I +am ashamed that you should look on the rude fashionings of a half-trained girl, +you who must have seen all those splendid statues of which I have been +told.” +</p> + +<p> +“By the throne of Cæsar, lady,” he exclaimed in a voice that +carried a conviction of his earnestness, staring hard at the bust of Ithiel +before him, “as it chances, although I am not an artist, I do know +something of sculpture, since I have a friend who is held to be the best of our +day, and often for my sins have sat as model to him. Well, I tell you +this—never did the great Glaucus produce a bust like that.” +</p> + +<p> +“I daresay not,” said Miriam smiling. “I daresay the great +Glaucus would go mad if he saw it.” +</p> + +<p> +“He would—with envy. He would say that it was the work of one of +the glorious Greeks, and of no modern.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sir,” said Ithiel reprovingly, “do not make a jest of the +maid, who does the best she can; it pains her and—is not fitting.” +</p> + +<p> +“Friend Ithiel,” replied Marcus, turning quite crimson, “you +must indeed think that I lack manners who would come to the home of any artist +to mock his work. I say what I mean, neither more nor less. If this bust were +shown in Rome, together with yourself who sat for it, the lady Miriam would +find herself famous within a week. Yes,” and he ran his eye quickly over +various statuettes, some of them baked and some in the raw clay, models, for +the most part, of camels or other animals or birds, “yes, and it is the +same with all the rest: these are the works of genius, no less.” +</p> + +<p> +At this praise, to them so exaggerated, Miriam, pleased as she could not help +feeling, broke into clear laugher, which both Ithiel and Nehushta echoed. Now, +so wroth was he, the face of Marcus grew quite pale and stern. +</p> + +<p> +“It seems,” he said severely, “that it is not I who mock. +Tell me, lady, what do you with these things?” and he pointed to the +statuettes. +</p> + +<p> +“I, sir? I sell them; or at least my uncles do.” +</p> + +<p> +“The money is given to the poor,” interposed Ithiel. +</p> + +<p> +“Would it be rude to ask at what price?” +</p> + +<p> +“Sometimes,” replied Ithiel with pride, “travellers have +given me as much as a silver shekel.[*] Once indeed, for a group of camels with +their Arabian drivers, I received four shekels; but that took my niece three +months to do.” +</p> + +<p> +[*] About 2s. 6d. of English money. +</p> + +<p> +“A shekel! Four shekels!” said Marcus in a voice of despair; +“I will buy them all—no, I will not, it would be robbery. And this +bust?” +</p> + +<p> +“That, sir, is not for sale; it is a gift to my uncle, or rather to my +uncles, to be set up in their court-room.” +</p> + +<p> +An idea struck Marcus. “I am here for a few weeks,” he said. +“Tell me, lady, if your uncle Ithiel will permit it, at what price will +you execute a bust of myself of the same size and quality?” +</p> + +<p> +“It would be dear,” said Miriam, smiling at the notion, “for +the marble costs something, and the tools, which wear out. Oh, it would be very +dear!” This she repeated, wondering what she could ask in her charitable +avarice. “It would be——” yes, she would venture +it—“fifty shekels!” +</p> + +<p> +“I am poor enough,” replied Marcus quietly, “but I will give +you two hundred.” +</p> + +<p> +“Two hundred!” gasped Miriam. “It is absurd. I could never +accept two hundred shekels for a piece of stonework. Then indeed you might say +that you had fallen among thieves on the banks of Jordan. No. If my uncles will +permit it and there is time, I will do my poor best for fifty—only, sir, +I advise you against it, since to win that bad likeness you must sit for many +weary hours.” +</p> + +<p> +“So be it,” said Marcus. “As soon as I get to any civilised +place I will send you enough commissions to make the beggars in these parts +rich for life, and at a very different figure. Let us begin at once.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sir, I have no leave.” +</p> + +<p> +“The matter,” explained Ithiel, “must be laid before the +Court of Curators, which will decide upon it to-morrow. Meanwhile, as we are +talking here, I see no harm if my niece chooses to work a lump of clay, which +can be broken up later should the Court in its wisdom refuse your +request.” +</p> + +<p> +“I hope for its own sake that the Court in its wisdom will not be such a +fool,” muttered Marcus to himself; adding aloud, “Lady, where shall +I place myself? You will find me the best of sitters. Have I not the great +Glaucus for a friend—until I show him this work of yours?” +</p> + +<p> +“If you will, sir, be seated on that stool and be pleased to look towards +me.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am your servant,” said Marcus, in a cheerful voice; and the +sitting began. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap08"></a>CHAPTER VIII<br/> +MARCUS AND CALEB</h2> + +<p> +On the morrow, as he had promised, Ithiel brought this question of whether or +no Miriam was to be allowed to execute a bust of the centurion, Marcus, before +the Court of the Curators of the Essenes, who were accustomed thus to consider +questions connected with their ward’s welfare in solemn conclave. There +was a division of opinion. Some of them saw no harm; others, more strait-laced, +held that it was scarcely correct that a Roman whose principles, doubtless, +were lax, should be allowed to sit to the lady whom they fondly called their +child. Indeed, it seemed dubious whether the leave would be given, until a +curator, with more worldly wisdom than the rest, suggested that as the captain +seemed desirous of having his picture taken in stone, under the circumstances +of his visit, which included a commission to make a general report upon their +society to the authorities, it might be scarcely wise to deny his wish. +Finally, a compromise was effected. It was agreed that Miriam should be +permitted to do the work, but only in the presence of Ithiel and two other +curators, one of them her own instructor in art. +</p> + +<p> +Thus it came about that when Marcus presented himself for the second time, at +an hour fixed by Ithiel, he found three white-bearded and white-robed old +gentlemen seated in a row in the workshop, and behind them, a smile on her +dusky face, Nehushta. As he entered they rose and bowed to him, a compliment +which he returned. Now Miriam appeared, to whom he made his salutation. +</p> + +<p> +“Are these,” he said, indicating the elders, “waiting their +turn to be modelled, or are they critics?” +</p> + +<p> +“They are critics,” said Miriam drily, as she lifted the damp +cloths from the rude lump of clay. +</p> + +<p> +Then the work began. As the three curators were seated in a line at the end of +the shed, and did not seem to think it right to leave their chairs, they could +see little of its details, and as they were early risers and the afternoon was +hot, soon they were asleep, every one of them. +</p> + +<p> +“Look at them,” said Marcus; “there is a subject for any +artist.” +</p> + +<p> +Miriam nodded, and taking three lumps of clay, working deftly and silently, +presently produced to his delighted sight rough but excellent portraits of +these admirable men, who, when they woke up, laughed at them very heartily. +</p> + +<p> +Thus things went on from day to day. Each afternoon the elders attended, and +each afternoon they sank to slumber in their comfortable chairs, an example +that Nehushta followed, or seemed to follow, leaving Miriam and her model +practically alone. As may be guessed, the model, who liked conversation, did +not neglect these opportunities. Few were the subjects which the two of them +failed to discuss. He told her of all his life, which had been varied and +exciting, omitting, it is true, certain details; also of the wars in which he +had served, and the countries that he had visited. She in turn told him the +simple story of her existence among the Essenes, which he seemed to find of +interest. When these subjects were exhausted they discussed other +things—the matter of religion, for instance. Indeed, Miriam ventured to +expound to him the principles of her faith, to which he listened respectfully +and with attention. +</p> + +<p> +“It sounds well,” he said at length with a sigh, “but how do +such maxims fit in with this world of ours? See now, lady, I am not old, but +already I have studied so many religions. First, there are the gods of Greece +and Rome, my own gods, you understand—well, the less said of them the +better. They serve, that is all. Then there are the gods of Egypt, as to which +I made inquiry, and of them I will say this: that beneath the grotesque cloak +of their worship seems to shine some spark of a holy fire. Next come the gods +of the Phœnicians, the fathers of a hideous creed. After them the flame +worshippers and other kindred religions of the East. There remain the Jews, +whose doctrine seems to me a savage one; at least it involves bloodshed with +the daily offering of blood. Also they are divided, these Jews, for some are +Pharisees, some Sadducees, some Essenes. Lastly, there are you Christians, +whose faith is pure enough in theory, but whom all unite against in hate. What +is the worth of a belief in this crucified Preacher who promises that He will +raise those who trust in Him from the dead?” +</p> + +<p> +“That you will find out when everything else has failed you,” +answered Miriam. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, it is a religion for those whom everything else has failed. When +that chances to the rest of us we commit suicide and sink from sight.” +</p> + +<p> +“And we,” she said proudly, “rise to life eternal.” +</p> + +<p> +“It may be so, lady, it may be so; but let us talk of something more +cheerful,” and he sighed. “At present, I hold that nothing is +eternal—except perhaps such art as yours.” +</p> + +<p> +“Which will be forgotten in the first change of taste, or crumbled in the +first fire. But see, he is awake. Come here, my master, and work this nostril, +for it is beyond me.” +</p> + +<p> +The old artist advanced and looked at the bust with admiration. +</p> + +<p> +“Maid Miriam,” he said, “I used to have some skill in this +art, and I taught you its rudiments; but now, child, I am not fit to temper +your clay. Deal with the nostril as you will; I am but a hodman who bears the +bricks, you are the heaven-born architect. I will not meddle, I will not +meddle; yet perhaps——” and he made a suggestion. +</p> + +<p> +“So?” said Miriam, touching the clay with her tool. “Oh, +look! it is right now. You are clever, my master.” +</p> + +<p> +“It was always right. I may be clever, but you have genius, and would +have found the fault without any help from me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did I not say so?” broke in Marcus triumphantly. +</p> + +<p> +“Sir,” replied Miriam, “you say a great deal, and much of it, +I think, you do not mean. Please be silent; at this moment I wish to study your +lips, and not your words.” +</p> + +<p> +So the work went on. They did not always talk, for soon they found that speech +is not necessary to true companionship. Once Miriam began to sing, and since +she discovered that her voice pleased Marcus and soothed the slumbers of the +elders, she sang often; quaint, sad songs of the desert and of the Jordan +fishermen. Also she told him tales and legends, and when she had done Nehushta +told others—wild stories of Libya, some of them very dark and bloody, +others of magic, black or white. Thus these afternoons passed happily enough, +and the clay model being finished, after the masons among the brethren had +rough hewn it for her, Miriam began to fashion it in marble. +</p> + +<p> +There was one, however, for whom these days did not pass happily—Caleb. +From the time that he had seen Miriam walking side by side with Marcus he hated +the brilliant-looking Roman in whom, his instinct warned him, he had found a +dangerous rival. Oh, how he hated him! So much, indeed, that even in the moment +of first meeting he could not keep his rage and envy in his heart, but suffered +them to be written on his face, and to shine like danger signals in his eyes, +which, it may be remembered, Marcus did not neglect to note. +</p> + +<p> +Of Miriam Caleb had seen but little lately. She was not angry with him, since +his offence was of a nature which a woman can forgive, but in her heart she +feared him. Of a sudden, as it were, the curtain had been drawn, and she had +seen this young man’s secret spirit and learned that it was a consuming +fire. It had come home to her that every word he spoke was true, that he who +was orphaned and not liked even by the gentle elders of the Essenes, loved but +one being upon earth—herself, whereas already his bosom seethed with many +hates. She was sure also that any man for whom she chanced to care, if such an +one should ever cross her path, would, as Caleb had promised, go in danger at +his hands, and the thought frightened her. Most of all did it frighten her when +she saw him glower upon Marcus, although in truth the Roman was nothing to her. +Yet, as she knew, Caleb had judged otherwise. +</p> + +<p> +But if she saw little of him, of this Miriam was sure enough—that he was +seldom far from her, and that he found means to learn from day to day how she +spent her hours. Indeed, Marcus told her that wherever he went he met that +handsome young man with revengeful eyes, who she had said was named Caleb. +Therefore Miriam grew frightened and, as the issue will show, not without +cause. +</p> + +<p> +One afternoon, while Miriam was at work upon the marble, and the three elders +were as usual sunk in slumber, Marcus said suddenly: +</p> + +<p> +“I forgot. I have news for you, lady. I have found out who murdered that +Jewish thief whose end, amongst other things, I was sent to investigate. It was +your friend Caleb.” +</p> + +<p> +Miriam started so violently that her chisel gave an unexpected effect to one of +Marcus’s curls. +</p> + +<p> +“Hush!” she said, glancing towards the sleepers, one of whom had +just snored so loudly that he began to awake at the sound; then added in a +whisper, “They do not know, do they?” +</p> + +<p> +He shook his head and looked puzzled. +</p> + +<p> +“I must speak to you of this matter,” she went on with agitation, +and in the same whisper. “No, not now or here, but alone.” +</p> + +<p> +“When and where you will,” answered Marcus, smiling, as if the +prospect of a solitary conversation with Miriam did not displease him, although +this evil-doing Caleb was to be its subject. “Name the time and place, +lady.” +</p> + +<p> +By now the snoring elder was awake, and rising from his chair with a great +noise, which in turn roused the others. Nehushta also rose from her seat and in +doing so, as though by accident, overset a copper tray on which lay metal +tools. +</p> + +<p> +“In the garden one hour after sunset. Nehushta will leave the little +lower door unlocked.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good,” answered Marcus; then added in a loud voice, “Not so, +lady. Ye gods! what a noise! I think the curl improved by the slip. It looks +less as though it had been waxed after the Egyptian fashion. Sirs, why do you +disturb yourselves? I fear that to you this long waiting must be as tedious as +to me it seems unnecessary.” +</p> + +<p> +The sun was down, and the last red glow had faded from the western sky, which +was now lit only by the soft light of a half-moon. All the world lay bathed in +peace and beauty; even the stern outlines of the surrounding mountains seemed +softened, and the pale waters of the Dead Sea and the ashen face of the desert +gleamed like silver new cast from the mould. From the oleanders and lilies +which bloomed along the edge of the irrigation channels, and from the white +flowers of the glossy, golden-fruited orange trees, floated a perfume delicious +to the sense, while the silence was only broken from time to time by the bark +of a wandering dog or the howl of a jackal in the wilderness. +</p> + +<p> +“A very pleasant night—to talk about Caleb,” reflected +Marcus, who had reached the appointed spot ten minutes before the time, as he +strolled from the narrow belt of trees that were planted along the high, outer +wall, into the more open part of the garden. Had Marcus chanced to notice that +this same Caleb, walking softly as a cat, and keeping with great care in the +shadow, had followed him through the little door which he forgot to lock, and +was now hidden among those very trees, he might have remembered a proverb to +the effect that snakes hide in the greenest grass and the prettiest flowers +have thorny stems. But he thought of no such thing, who was lost in happy +anticipations of a moonlight interview with a lovely and cultured young lady, +whose image, to speak truth, had taken so deep a hold upon his fancy, that +sometimes he wondered how he would be able to banish it thence again. At +present he could think of no better means than that which at this moment he was +following with delight. Meetings in moonlit gardens tend proverbially to +disenchantment! +</p> + +<p> +Presently Marcus caught the gleam of a white robe followed by a dark one, +flitting towards him through the dim and dewy garden, and at the sight his +heart stood still, then began to beat again in a disorderly fashion. Had he +known it, another heart a few yards behind him also stood still, and then began +to beat like that of a man in a violent rage. It seems possible, also, that a +third heart experienced unusual sensations. +</p> + +<p> +“I wish she had left the old lady behind,” muttered Marcus. +“No, I don’t, for then there are brutes who, if they knew, might +blame her”; and, luckily for himself, he walked forward a few paces to +meet the white robe, leaving the little belt of trees almost out of hearing. +</p> + +<p> +Now Miriam stood before him, the moonlight shining on her delicate face and in +her tranquil eyes, which always reminded him of the blue depths of heaven. +</p> + +<p> +“Sir,” she began—— +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I pray you,” he broke in, “cease from ceremony and call +me Marcus!” +</p> + +<p> +“Captain Marcus,” she repeated, dwelling a little on the unfamiliar +name, “I beg that you will forgive me for disturbing you at so +unseasonable an hour.” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly I forgive you, Lady Miriam,” he replied, also dwelling +on her name and copying her accent in a fashion that made the grim-faced +Nehushta smile. +</p> + +<p> +She waved her hand in deprecation. “The truth is, that this matter of +Caleb’s——” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, may all the infernal gods take Caleb! as I have reason to believe +they shortly will,” broke in Marcus angrily. +</p> + +<p> +“But that is just what I wish to prevent; we have met here to talk of +Caleb.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, if you must—talk and let us be done with him. What about +Caleb?” +</p> + +<p> +Miriam clasped her hands. “What do you know of him, Captain +Marcus?” +</p> + +<p> +“Know? Why, just this: a spy I have in my troop has found out a country +fellow who was hunting for mushrooms or something—I forget what—in +a gully a mile away, and saw this interesting youth hide himself there and +shoot that Jewish plunderer with a bow and arrow. More—he has found +another man who saw the said Caleb an hour or two before help himself to an +arrow out of one of the Jew’s quivers, which arrow appears to be +identical with, or at any rate, similar to, that which was found in the +fellow’s gullet. Therefore, it seems that Caleb is guilty, and that it +will be my duty to-morrow to place him under arrest, and in due course to +convey him to Jerusalem, where the priests will attend to his little business. +Now, Lady Miriam, is your curiosity satisfied about Caleb?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh,” she said, “it cannot be, it must not be! The man had +struck him and he did but return a blow for a blow.” +</p> + +<p> +“An arrow for a blow, you mean; the point of a spear for the push of its +handle. But, Lady Miriam, you seem to be very deep in the confidence of Caleb. +How do you come to know all this?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know, I only guess. I daresay, nay, I am sure, that Caleb +is quite innocent.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why do you take such an interest in Caleb?” asked Marcus +suspiciously. +</p> + +<p> +“Because he was my friend and playmate from childhood.” +</p> + +<p> +“Umph,” he answered, “a strange couple—a dove and a +raven. Well, I am glad that you did not catch his temper, or you would be more +dangerous even than you are. Now, what do you want me to do?” +</p> + +<p> +“I want you to spare Caleb. You, you, you—need not believe those +witnesses.” +</p> + +<p> +“To think of it!” said Marcus, in mock horror. “To think that +one whom I thought so good can prove so immoral. Do you then wish to tempt me +from my duty?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I suppose so. At least the peasants round here are great +liars.” +</p> + +<p> +“Lady,” said Marcus, with stern conviction, “Caleb has +improved upon his opportunities as a playmate; he has been making love to you. +I thought so from the first.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh,” she answered, “how can you know that? Besides, he +promised that he would never do it again.” +</p> + +<p> +“How can I know that? Why, because Caleb would have been a bigger fool +than I take him for if he had not. And if it rested with me, certainly he never +would do it again. Now be honest with me, if a woman can on such a matter, and +tell me true: are you in love with this Caleb?” +</p> + +<p> +“I—I? In love with Caleb? Of course not. If you do not believe me, +ask Nehushta.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you, I will be content with your own reply. You deny that you are +in love with him, and I incline to believe you; but, on the other hand, I +remember that you would naturally say this, since you might think that any +other answer would prejudice the cause of Caleb with me.” +</p> + +<p> +“With you! What can it matter to you, sir, whether or no I am in love +with Caleb, who, to tell you the truth, frightens me?” +</p> + +<p> +“And that, I suppose, is why you plead so hard for him?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” she answered with a sudden sternness, “I plead hard for +him as in like case I would plead hard for you—because he has been my +friend, and if he did this deed he was provoked to it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well spoken,” said Marcus, gazing at her steadily. Indeed, she was +worth looking at as she stood there before him, her hands clasped, her breast +heaving, her sweet, pale face flushed with emotion and her lovely eyes aswim +with tears. Of a sudden as he gazed Marcus lost control of himself. Passion for +this maiden and bitter jealousy of Caleb arose like twin giants in his heart +and possessed him. +</p> + +<p> +“You say you are not in love with Caleb,” he said. “Well, +kiss me and I will believe you.” +</p> + +<p> +“How could such a thing prove my words?” she asked indignantly. +</p> + +<p> +“I do not know and I do not care. Kiss me once and I will believe further +that the peasants of these parts are all liars. I feel myself beginning to +believe it.” +</p> + +<p> +“And if I will not?” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I am afraid I must refer the matter to a competent tribunal at +Jerusalem.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nehushta, Nehushta, you have heard. What shall I do?” +</p> + +<p> +“What shall you do?” said Nehushta drily. “Well, if you like +to give the noble Marcus a kiss, I shall not blame you overmuch or tell on you. +But if you do not wish it, then I think you would be a fool to put yourself to +shame to save Caleb.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yet, I will do it—and to save Caleb only,” said Miriam with +a sob, and she bent towards him. +</p> + +<p> +To her surprise Marcus drew back, placing his hand before his face. +</p> + +<p> +“Forgive me,” he said. “I was a brute who wished to buy +kisses in such a fashion. I forgot myself; your beauty is to blame, and your +sweetness and everything that is yours. I pray,” he added humbly, +“that you will not think the worse of me, since we men are frail at +times. And now, because you ask me, though I have no right, I grant your +prayer. Mayhap those witnesses lied; at least, the man’s sin, if sin +there be, can be excused. He has naught to fear from me.” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” broke in Nehushta, “but I think you have much to fear +from him; and I am sorry for that, my lord Marcus, for you have a noble +heart.” +</p> + +<p> +“It may be so; the future is on the knees of the gods, and that which is +fated will befall. My Lady Miriam, I, your humble servant and friend, wish you +farewell.” +</p> + +<p> +“Farewell,” she answered. “Yes, Nehushta is right, you have a +noble heart”; and she looked at him in such a fashion that it flashed +across his mind that were he to proffer that request of his again, it might not +be refused. But Marcus would not do it. He had tasted of the joy of +self-conquest, who hitherto, after the manner of his age and race, had denied +himself little, and, as it seemed to him, a strange new power was stirring in +his heart—something purer, higher, nobler, than he had known before. He +would cherish it a while. +</p> + +<p> +Of all that were spoken there in the garden, Caleb, the watcher, could catch no +word. The speakers did not raise their voices and they stood at a distance, so +that although he craned his head forward as far as he dared in the shadow of +the trees, sharp and trained as they were, naught save a confused murmur +reached his ears. But if these failed him, his eyes fed full, so that he lost +no move or gesture. It was a passionate love scene, this was clear, for +Nehushta stood at a little distance with her back turned, while the pair poured +out their sweet speeches to each other. Then at length, as he had expected, +came the climax. Yes, oh! shameless woman—they were embracing. A mist +fell upon Caleb’s eyes, in which lights flashed like red-hot swords +lifting and smiting, the blood drummed in his ears as though his raging, +jealous heart would burst. He would kill that Roman now on the spot. Miriam +should never kiss him more—alive. +</p> + +<p> +Already Caleb had drawn the short-sword from its hiding-place in his ample +robe; already he had stepped out from the shadow of the trees, when of a sudden +his reason righted itself like a ship that has been laid over by a furious +squall, and caution came back to him. If he did this that faithless guardian, +Nehushta, who without doubt had been bought with Roman gold, would come to the +assistance of her patron and thrust her dagger through his back, as she well +could do. Or should he escape that dagger, one or other of them would raise the +Essenes on him, and he would be given over to justice. He wished to slay, not +to be slain. It would be sweet to kill the Roman, but if he himself were laid +dead across his body, leaving Miriam alive to pass to some other man, what +would he be advantaged? Presently they must cease from their endearments; +presently his enemy would return as he had come, and then he might find his +chance. He would wait, he would wait. +</p> + +<p> +Look, they had parted; Miriam was gliding back to the house, and Marcus came +towards him, walking like a man in his sleep. Only Nehushta stood where she +was, her eyes fixed upon the ground as though she were reasoning with herself. +Still like a man in a dream, Marcus passed him within touch of his outstretched +hand. Caleb followed. Marcus opened the door, went out of it, and pulled it to +behind him. Caleb caught it in his hand, slipped through and closed it. A few +paces down the wall—eight or ten perhaps—was another door, by which +Marcus entered the garden of the guest-house. As he turned to shut this, Caleb +pushed in after him, and they were face to face. +</p> + +<p> +“Who are you?” asked the Roman, springing back. +</p> + +<p> +Caleb, who by now was cool enough, closed the door and shot the bolt. Then he +answered, “Caleb, the son of Hilliel, who wishes a word with you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” said Marcus, “the very man, and, as usual, unless the +light deceives me, in an evil humour. Well, Caleb the son of Hilliel, what is +your business with me?” +</p> + +<p> +“One of life and death, Marcus the son of Emilius,” he answered, in +such a tone that the Roman drew his sword and stood watching him. +</p> + +<p> +“Be plain and brief, young man,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“I will be both plain and brief. I love that lady from whom you have just +parted, and you also love, or pretend to love, her. Nay, deny it not; I have +seen all, even to your kisses. Well, she cannot belong to both of us, and I +intend that in some future day she shall belong to me if arm and eye do not +fail me now. Therefore one of us must die to-night.” +</p> + +<p> +Marcus stepped back, overcome not with fear, but with astonishment. +</p> + +<p> +“Insolent,” he said, “you lie! There were no kisses, and our +talk was of your neck, that I gave to her because she asked it, which is +forfeit for the murder of the Jew.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed,” sneered Caleb. “Now, who would have thought that +the noble Captain Marcus would shelter thus behind a woman’s robe? For +the rest, my life is my own and no other’s to give or to receive. Guard +yourself, Roman, since I would kill you in fair fight. Had I another mind you +would be dead by now, never knowing the hand that struck you. Have no fear; I +am your equal, for my forefathers were nobles when yours were savages.” +</p> + +<p> +“Boy, are you mad,” asked Marcus, “to think that I, who have +fought in three wars, can fear a beardless youth, however fierce? Why, if I +feared you I have but to blow upon this whistle and my guards would hale you +hence to a felon’s death. For your own sake it is that I pray you to +consider. Setting aside my rank and yours, I will fight you if you will, and +now. Yet think. If I kill you there is an end, and if by chance you should kill +me, you will be hunted down as a double murderer. As it is, I forgive you, +because I know how bitter is the jealousy of youth, and because you struck no +assassin’s blow when you might have done so safely. Therefore, I say, go +in peace, knowing that I shall not break my word.” +</p> + +<p> +“Cease talking,” said Caleb, “and come out into the +moonlight.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am glad that is your wish,” replied Marcus. “Having done +all I can to save you, I will add that I think you a dangerous cub, of whom the +world, the lady Miriam and I alike will be well rid. Now, what weapon have you? +A short sword and no mail? Well, so have I. In this we are well matched. Stay, +I have a steel-lined cap, and you have none. There it goes, to make our chances +equal. Wind your cloak about your left arm as I do. I have known worse shields. +Good foothold, but an uncertain light. Now, go!” +</p> + +<p> +Caleb needed no encouragement. For one second they stood facing each other, +very types of the Eastern and Western world; the Roman—sturdy, +honest-eyed, watchful and fearless, his head thrown back, his feet apart, his +shield arm forward, his sword hand pressed to his side from which the steel +projected. Over against him was the Jew, crouched like a tiger about to spring, +his eyes half closed as though to concentrate the light, his face working with +rage, and every muscle quivering till his whole flesh seemed to move upon his +bones, like to that of a snake. Suddenly, uttering a low cry, he sprang, and +with that savage onslaught the fight began and ended. +</p> + +<p> +Marcus was ready; moreover, he knew what he would do. As the man came, stepping +swiftly to one side, he caught the thrust of Caleb’s sword in the folded +cloak, and since he did not wish to kill him, struck at his hand. The blow fell +upon Caleb’s first finger and severed it, cutting the others also, so +that it dropped to the ground with the sword that they had held. Marcus put his +foot upon the blade, and wheeled round. +</p> + +<p> +“Young man,” he said sternly, “you have learnt your lesson +and will bear the mark of it till your death day. Now begone.” +</p> + +<p> +The wretched Caleb ground his teeth. “It was to the death!” he +said, “it was to the death! You have conquered, kill me,” and with +his bloody hand he tore open his robe to make a path for the sword. +</p> + +<p> +“Leave such talk to play-actors,” answered Marcus. “Begone, +and be sure of this—that if ever you try to bring treachery on me, or +trouble on the lady Miriam, I will kill you sure enough.” +</p> + +<p> +Then with a sound that was half curse and half sob, Caleb turned and slunk +away. With a shrug of the shoulder Marcus also turned to go, when he felt a +shadow fall upon him, and swung round, to find Nehushta at his side. +</p> + +<p> +“And pray where did you come from, my Libyan friend?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Out of that pomegranate fence, my Roman lord, whence I have seen and +heard all that passed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed. Then I hope that you give me credit for good sword-play and good +temper.” +</p> + +<p> +“The sword-play was well enough, though nothing to boast of with such a +madman for a foe. As for the temper, it was that of a fool.” +</p> + +<p> +“Such,” soliloquised Marcus, “is the reward of virtue. But I +am curious. Why?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because, my lord Marcus, this Caleb will grow into the most dangerous +man in Judæa, and to none more dangerous than to my lady Miriam and yourself. +You should have killed him while you had the chance, before his turn comes to +kill you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps,” answered Marcus with a yawn; “but, friend +Nehushta, I have been associating with a Christian and have caught something of +her doctrines. That seems a fine sword. You had better keep it. +Good-night.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap09"></a>CHAPTER IX<br/> +THE JUSTICE OF FLORUS</h2> + +<p> +On the following morning, when the roll of the neophytes of the Essenes was +called, Caleb did not appear. Nor did he answer to his name on the next day, or +indeed ever again. None knew what had become of him until a while after a +letter was received addressed to the Curators of the Court, in which he +announced that, finding he had no vocation for an Essenic career, he had taken +refuge with friends of his late father, in some place not stated. There, so far +as the Essenes were concerned, the matter ended. Indeed, as the peasant who was +concealed in the gully when the Jew was murdered had talked of what he had +witnessed, even the most simple-minded of the Essenes could suggest a reason +for this sudden departure. Nor did they altogether regret it, inasmuch as in +many ways Caleb had proved himself but an unsatisfactory disciple, and already +they were discussing the expediency of rejecting him from the fellowship of +their peaceful order. Had they known that when he vanished he left behind him a +drawn sword and one of his forefingers, their opinion on this point might have +been strengthened. But this they did not know, although Miriam knew it through +Nehushta. +</p> + +<p> +A week went by, during which time Miriam and Marcus did not meet, as no further +sittings were arranged for the completion of the bust. In fact, they were not +needful, since she could work from the clay model, which she did, till, +labouring at it continually, the marble was done and even polished. One morning +as the artist was putting the last touches to her labours, the door of the +workshop was darkened and she looked up to see Marcus, who, except for his +helmet, was clad in full mail as though about to start upon a journey. As it +chanced, Miriam was alone in the place, Nehushta having gone to attend to +household affairs. Thus for the first time they met with no other eyes to watch +them. +</p> + +<p> +At the sight of him she coloured, letting the cloth fall from her hand which +remained about the neck of the marble. +</p> + +<p> +“I ask your pardon, Lady Miriam,” said Marcus, bowing gravely, +“for breaking in thus upon your privacy; but time presses with me so that +I lacked any to give notice to your guardians of my visit.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you leaving us?” she faltered. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I am leaving you.” +</p> + +<p> +Miriam turned aside and picked up the cloth, then answered, “Well, the +work is done, or will be in a few minutes; so if you think it worth the +trouble, take it.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is my intention. The price I will settle with your uncles.” +</p> + +<p> +She nodded. “Yes, yes, but if you will permit me, I should like to pack +it myself, so that it comes to no harm upon the journey. Also with your leave I +will retain the model, which by right belongs to you. I am not pleased with +this marble; I wish to make another.” +</p> + +<p> +“The marble is perfect; but keep the model if you will. I am very glad +that you should keep it.” +</p> + +<p> +She glanced at him, a question in her eyes, then looked away. +</p> + +<p> +“When do you go?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Three hours after noon. My task is finished, my report—which is to +the effect that the Essenes are a most worthy and harmless people who deserve +to be encouraged, not molested—is written. Also I am called hence in +haste by a messenger who reached me from Jerusalem an hour ago. Would you like +to know why?” +</p> + +<p> +“If it pleases you to tell me, yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think that I told you of my uncle Caius, who was pro-consul under the +late emperor for the richest province of Spain, and—made use of his +opportunities.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, the old man has been smitten with a mortal disease. For aught I +know he may be already dead, although the physicians seemed to think he would +live for another ten months, or perhaps a year. Being in this case, suddenly he +has grown fond of his relations, or rather relation, for I am the only one, and +expressed a desire to see me, to whom for many years he has never given a +single penny. He has even announced his intention—by letter—of +making me his heir ‘should he find me worthy,’ which, to succeed +Caius, whatever my faults, indeed I am not, since of all men, as I have told +him in past days, I hold him the worst. Still, he has forwarded a sum of money +to enable me to journey to him in haste, and with it a letter from the Cæsar, +Nero, to the procurator Albinus, commanding him to give me instant leave to go. +Therefore, lady, it seems wise that I should go.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” answered Miriam. “I know little of such things, but I +think that it is wise. Within two hours the bust shall be finished and +packed,” and she stretched out her hand in farewell. +</p> + +<p> +Marcus took the hand and held it. “I am loth to part with you +thus,” he said suddenly. +</p> + +<p> +“There is only one fashion of parting,” answered Miriam, striving +to withdraw her hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, there are many; and I hate them all—from you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sir,” she asked with gentle indignation, “is it worth your +while to play off these pretty phrases upon me? We have met for an hour; we +separate—for a lifetime.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not see the need of that. Oh, the truth may as well out. I wish it +least of all things.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yet it is so. Come, let my hand go; the marble must be finished and +packed.” +</p> + +<p> +The face of Marcus became troubled, as though he were reasoning with himself, +as though he wished to take her at her word and go, yet could not. +</p> + +<p> +“Is it ended?” asked Miriam presently, considering him with her +quiet eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“I think not; I think it is but begun. Miriam, I love you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Marcus,” she answered steadily, “I do not think I should be +asked to listen to such words.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why not? They have always been thought honest between man and +woman.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps, when they are meant honestly, which in this case can scarcely +be.” +</p> + +<p> +He grew hot and red. “What do you mean? Do you +suppose——” +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose nothing, Captain Marcus.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you suppose,” he repeated, “that I would offer you less +than the place of wife?” +</p> + +<p> +“Assuredly not,” she replied, “since to do so would be to +insult you. But neither do I suppose that you really meant to offer me that +place.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yet that was in my mind, Miriam.” +</p> + +<p> +Her eyes grew soft, but she answered: +</p> + +<p> +“Then, Marcus, I pray you, put it out of your mind, since between us +rolls a great sea.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is it named Caleb?” he asked bitterly. +</p> + +<p> +She smiled and shook her head. “You know well that it has no such +name.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me of this sea.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is easy. You are a Roman worshipping the Roman gods; I am a Christian +worshipping the God of the Christians. Therefore we are forever +separate.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why? I do not understand. If we were married you might come to think +like me, or I might come to think like you. It is a matter of the spirit and +the future, not of the body and the present. Every day Christians wed those who +are not Christians; sometimes, even, they convert them.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I know; but in my case this may not be—even if I wished that +it should be.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why not?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because both by the command of my murdered father and of her own desire +my mother laid it on me with her dying breath that I should take to husband no +man who was not of our faith.” +</p> + +<p> +“And do you hold yourself to be bound by this command?” +</p> + +<p> +“I do, without doubt and to the end.” +</p> + +<p> +“However much you might chance to love a man who is not a +Christian?” +</p> + +<p> +“However much I might chance to love such a man.” +</p> + +<p> +Marcus let fall her hand. “I think I had best go,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +Then came a pause while he seemed to be struggling with himself. +</p> + +<p> +“Miriam, I cannot go.” +</p> + +<p> +“Marcus, you must go.” +</p> + +<p> +“Miriam, do you love me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Marcus, may Christ forgive me, I do.” +</p> + +<p> +“Miriam, how much?” +</p> + +<p> +“Marcus, as much as a woman may love a man.” +</p> + +<p> +“And yet,” he broke out bitterly, “you bid me begone because +I am not a Christian.” +</p> + +<p> +“Because my faith is more than my love. I must offer my love upon the +altar of my faith—or, at the least,” she added hurriedly, “I +am bound by a rope that cannot be cut or broken. To break it would bring down +upon your head and mine the curse of Heaven and of my parents, who are its +inhabitants.” +</p> + +<p> +“And if I became of your faith?” +</p> + +<p> +Her whole face lit up, then suddenly its light died. +</p> + +<p> +“It is too much to hope. This is not a question of casting incense on an +altar; it is a matter of a changed spirit and a new life. Oh! have done. Why do +you play with me?” +</p> + +<p> +“A changed spirit and a new life. At the best that would take +time.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, time and thought.” +</p> + +<p> +“And would you wait that time? Such beauty and such sweetness as are +yours will not lack for suitors.” +</p> + +<p> +“I shall wait. I have told you that I love you; no other man will be +anything to me. I shall wed no other man.” +</p> + +<p> +“You give all and take nothing; it is not just.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is as God has willed. If it pleases God to touch your heart and to +preserve us both alive, then in days to come our lives may be one life. +Otherwise they must run apart till perchance we meet—in the eternal +morning.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Miriam, I cannot leave you thus! Teach me as you will.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, go, Marcus, and teach yourself. Am I a bait to win your soul? The +path is not so easy, it is very difficult. Fare you well!” +</p> + +<p> +“May I write to you from Rome?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, why not, if by that time you should care to write, who then will +have recovered from this folly of the desert and an idle moon?” +</p> + +<p> +“I shall write and I shall return, and we will talk of these matters; so, +most sweet, farewell.” +</p> + +<p> +“Farewell, Marcus, and the love of God go with you.” +</p> + +<p> +“What of your love?” +</p> + +<p> +“My love is with you ever who have won my heart.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, Miriam, at least I have not lived in vain. Remember this always, +that much as I may worship you, I honour you still more,” and kneeling +before her he kissed first her hand, and next the hem of her robe. Then he +turned and went. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +That night, watching from the roof of her house by the light of the full moon, +Miriam saw Marcus ride away at the head of his band of soldiers. On the crest +of a little ridge of ground outside the village he halted, leaving them to go +on, and turning his horse’s head looked backward. Thus he stood awhile, +the silver rays of the moon shining on his bright armour and making him a point +of light set between two vales of shadow. Miriam could guess whither his eyes +were turned and what was in his heart. It seemed to her, even, that she could +feel his loving thought play upon her and that with the ear of his spirit he +could catch the answer of her own. Then suddenly he turned and was lost in the +gloom of the night. +</p> + +<p> +Now that he was gone, quite gone, Miriam’s courage seemed to leave her, +and leaning her head upon the parapet she wept tears that were soft but very +bitter. Suddenly a hand was laid upon her shoulder and a voice, that of old +Nehushta, spoke in her ear. +</p> + +<p> +“Mourn not,” it said, “since him whom you lose in the night +you may find again in the daytime.” +</p> + +<p> +“In no day that dawns from an earthly sun, I fear me, Nou. Oh, Nou! he +has gone, and taken my heart with him, leaving in its place a throbbing pain +which is more than I can bear.” +</p> + +<p> +“He will come back; I tell you that he will come back,” she +answered, almost fiercely; “for your life and his are +intertwined—yes, to the end—a single cord bearing a double destiny. +I know it; ask me not how; but be comforted, for it is truth. Moreover, though +it be sharp, your pain is not more than you can bear, else it would never be +laid upon you.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, Nou, if he does come back, what will it help me, who am built in by +this strict command of them that begat me, to break through which would be to +sin against and earn the curse of God and man?” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not know; I only know this, that in that wall, as in others, a door +will be found. Trouble not for the future, but leave it in the hand of Him Who +shapes all futures. Sufficient to the day is the evil thereof. So He said. +Accept the saying and be grateful. It is something to have gained the love of +such a one as this Roman, for, unless the wisdom which I have gained through +many years is at fault, he is true and honest; and that man must be good at +heart who can be reared in Rome and in the worship of its gods and yet remain +honest. Remember these things, and I say be grateful, since there are many who +go through their lives knowing no such joy, even for an hour.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will try, Nou,” said Miriam humbly, still staring at the ridge +whence Marcus had vanished. +</p> + +<p> +“You will try, and you will succeed. Now there is another matter of which +I must speak to you. When the Essenes received us it was solemnly decreed that +if you lived to reach the full age of eighteen years you must depart from among +them. That hour struck for you nearly a year ago, and, although you heard +nothing of it, this decree was debated by the Court. Now such decrees may not +be broken, but it was argued that the words ‘full age of eighteen +years,’ meant and were intended to mean until you reached your nineteenth +birthday; that is—in a month from now.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then must we go, Nou?” asked Miriam in dismay, for she knew no +other world but this village in the desert, and no other friends than these +venerable men whom she called her uncles. +</p> + +<p> +“It seems so, especially as it is now guessed that Caleb fought the +Captain Marcus upon your account. Oh! that tale is talked of—for one +thing, the young wild-cat left a claw behind him which the gardener +found.” +</p> + +<p> +“I trust then it is known also that the fault was none of mine. But, Nou, +whither shall we go who have neither friends, nor home, nor money?” +</p> + +<p> +“I know not; but doubtless in this wall also there is a door. If the +worst comes to the worst, a Christian has many brothers; moreover, with your +skill in the arts you need never lack for a living in any great city in the +world.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is true,” said Miriam, brightening; “that is, if I may +believe Marcus and my old master.” +</p> + +<p> +“Also,” continued Nehushta, “I have still almost all the gold +that the Phœnician Amram gave us when I fled with your mother, and added to it +that which I took from the strong box of the captain of the galley on the night +when you were born. So have no fear, we shall not want; nor indeed would the +Essenes suffer such a thing. Now, child, you are weary; go to rest and dream +that you have your lover back again.” +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +It was with a heavy heart that Caleb, defeated and shamed, shook the dust of +the village of the Essenes off his feet. At dawn on the morning after the night +that he had fought the duel with Marcus, he also might have been seen, a staff +in his bandaged hand and a bag of provisions over his shoulder, standing upon +the little ridge and gazing towards the house which sheltered Miriam. In love +and war things had gone ill with him, so ill that at the thought of his +discomfiture he ground his teeth. Miriam cared nothing for him; Marcus had +defeated him at the first encounter and given him his life; while, worst of +all, these two from whom he had endured so much loved each other. Few, perhaps, +have suffered more sharply than he suffered in that hour; for what agonies are +there like those of disappointed love and the shame of defeat when endured in +youth? With time most men grow accustomed to disaster and rebuff. The colt that +seems to break its heart at the cut of a whip, will hobble at last to the +knacker unmoved by a shower of blows. +</p> + +<p> +While Caleb looked, the red rim of the sun rose above the horizon, flooding the +world with light and life. Now birds began to chirp, and beasts to move; now +the shadows fled away. Caleb’s impressionable nature answered to this +change. Hope stirred in his breast, even the pain of his maimed hand was +forgotten. +</p> + +<p> +“I will win yet,” he shouted to the silent sky; “my troubles +are done with. I will shine like the sun; I will rule like the sun, and my +enemies shall wither beneath my power. It is a good omen. Now I am glad that +the Roman spared my life, that in a day to come I may take his—and +Miriam.” +</p> + +<p> +Then he turned and trudged onward through the glorious sunlight, watching his +own shadow that stretched away before him. +</p> + +<p> +“It goes far,” he said again; “this also is a very good +omen.” +</p> + +<p> +Caleb thought much on his way to Jerusalem; moreover he talked with all whom he +met, even with bandits and footpads whom his poverty could not tempt, for he +desired to learn how matters stood in the land. Arrived in Jerusalem he sought +out the home of that lady who had been his mother’s friend and who gave +him over, a helpless orphan, to the care of the Essenes. He found that she was +dead, but her son lived, a man of kind heart and given to hospitality, who had +heard his story and sheltered him for his mother’s sake. When his hand +was healed and he procured some good clothes and a little money from his +friend, without saying anything of his purpose, Caleb attended the court of +Gessius Florus, the Roman procurator, at his palace, seeking an opportunity to +speak with him. +</p> + +<p> +Thrice did he wait thus for hours at a time, on each occasion to be driven away +at last by the guards. On his fourth visit he was more fortunate, for Florus, +who had noted him before, asked why he stood there so patiently. An officer +replied that the man had a petition to make. +</p> + +<p> +“Let me hear it then,” said the governor. “I sit in this +place to administer justice by the grace and in the name of Cæsar.” +</p> + +<p> +Accordingly, Caleb was summoned and found himself in the presence of a small, +dark-eyed, beetle-browed Roman with cropped hair, who looked what he +was—one of the most evil rulers that ever held power in Judæa. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you seek, Jew?” he asked in a harsh voice. +</p> + +<p> +“What I am assured I shall find at your hands, O most noble Florus, +justice against the Jews—pure justice”; words at which the +courtiers and guards tittered, and even Florus smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“It is to be had at a price,” he replied. +</p> + +<p> +“I am prepared to pay the price.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then set out your case.” +</p> + +<p> +So Caleb set it out. He told how many years before his father had been +accidentally slain in a tumult, and how he, the son, being but an infant, +certain Jews of the Zealots had seized and divided his estate on the ground +that his father was a partisan of the Romans, leaving him, the son, to be +brought up by charity—which estate, consisting of tracts of rich lands +and certain house property in Jerusalem and Tyre, was still in their possession +or in that of their descendants. +</p> + +<p> +The black eyes of Florus glistened as he heard. +</p> + +<p> +“Their names,” he said, snatching at his tablets. But as yet Caleb +was not minded to give the names. First, he intimated that he desired to arrive +at a formal agreement as to what proportion of the property, if recovered, +would be handed over to him, the heir. Then followed much haggling; but in the +end it was agreed that as he had been robbed because his father was supposed to +favour the Romans, the lands and a large dwelling with warehouse attached, at +Tyre, together with one-half the back rents, if recoverable, should be given to +the plaintiff. The governor, or as he put it, Cæsar, for his share was to +retain the property in Jerusalem and the other half of the rents. In this +arrangement Caleb proved himself, as usual, prescient. Houses, as he explained +afterwards, could be burned or pulled down, but beyond the crops on it, land no +man could injure. Then, after the agreement had been duly signed and witnessed, +he gave the names, bringing forward good testimony to prove all that he had +said. +</p> + +<p> +Within a week those Jews who had committed the theft, or their descendants, +were in prison, whence they did not emerge till they had been stripped, not +only of the stolen property, but of everything else that they possessed. Either +because he was pleased at so great and unexpected a harvest, or perhaps for the +reason that he saw in Caleb an able fellow who might be useful in the future, +Florus fulfilled his bargain with him to the letter. +</p> + +<p> +Thus it came about that by a strange turn of the wheel of chance, within a +month of his flight from the colony of the Essenes, Caleb, the outcast orphan, +with his neck in danger of the sword, became a man of influence, having great +possessions. His sun had risen indeed. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap10"></a>CHAPTER X<br/> +BENONI</h2> + +<p> +A while later Caleb, no longer a solitary wanderer with only his feet to carry +him, his staff to protect him, and a wallet to supply him with food, but a +young and gallant gentleman, well-armed, clad in furs and a purple cloak, +accompanied by servants and riding a splendid horse, once more passed the walls +of Jerusalem. On the rising ground beyond the Damascus gate he halted and +looked back at the glorious city with her crowded streets, her mighty towers, +her luxurious palaces, and her world-famed temple that dominated all, which +from here seemed as a mountain covered with snow and crowned with glittering +gold. +</p> + +<p> +“I will rule there when the Romans have been driven out,” he said +to himself, for already Caleb had grown very ambitious. Indeed, the wealth and +the place that had come to him so suddenly, with which many men would have been +satisfied, did but serve to increase his appetite for power, fame, and all good +things. To him this money was but a stepping-stone to greater fortunes. +</p> + +<p> +Caleb was journeying to Tyre to take possession of his house there, which the +Roman commander of the district had been bidden to hand over to him. Also he +had another object. At Tyre dwelt the old Jew, Benoni, who was Miriam’s +grandfather, as he had discovered years before; for when they were still +children together she had told him all her story. This Benoni, for reasons of +his own, he desired to see. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +On a certain afternoon in one of the palaces of Tyre a man might have been seen +sitting in a long portico, or verandah as we should call it, which overlooked +the Mediterranean, whose blue waters lapped the straight-scarped rock +below—for this house was in the island city, not in that of the mainland +where most of the rich Syrians dwelt. +</p> + +<p> +The man was old and very handsome. His dark eyes were quick and full of fire, +his nose was hooked like the beak of a bird of prey, his hair and beard were +long and snowy white. His robes also were rich and splendid, and over them, +since at this season of the year even at Tyre it was cold, he wore a cloak of +costly northern furs. The house was worthy of its owner. Built throughout of +the purest marble, the rooms were roofed and panelled with sweet-smelling cedar +of Lebanon, whence hung many silver lamps, and decorated by statuary and +frescoes. On the marble floors were spread rugs, beautifully wrought in +colours, while here and there stood couches, tables and stools, fashioned for +the most part of ebony from Libya, inlaid with ivory and pearl. +</p> + +<p> +Benoni, the owner of all this wealth, having finished his business for that +day—the taking count of a shipload of merchandise which had reached him +from Egypt—had eaten his midday meal and now sought his couch under the +portico to rest a while in the sun. Reclining on the cushions, soon he was +asleep; but it would seem that his dreams were unhappy—at the least he +turned from side to side muttering and moving his hands. At last he sat up with +a start. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Rachel, Rachel!” he moaned, “why will you haunt my +sleep? Oh! my child, my child, have I not suffered enough? Must you bring my +sin back to me in this fashion? May I not shut my eyes even here in the +sunlight and be at peace a while? What have you to tell me that you come thus +often to stand here so strengthless and so still? Nay, it is not you; it is my +sin that wears your shape!” and Benoni hid his face in his hands, rocking +himself to and fro and moaning aloud. +</p> + +<p> +Presently he sprang up. “It was no sin,” he said, “it was a +righteous act. I offered her to the outraged majesty of Jehovah, as Abraham, +our father, would have offered Isaac, but the curse of that false prophet is +upon me and mine. That was the fault of Demas, the half-bred hound who crept +into my kennel, and whom, because she loved him, I gave to her as husband. Thus +did he repay me, the traitor, and I—I repaid him. Ay! But the sword fell +upon two necks. He should have suffered, and he alone. Oh, Rachel, my lost +daughter Rachel, forgive me, you whose bones lie there beneath the sea, forgive +me! I cannot bear those eyes of yours. I am old, Rachel, I am old.” +</p> + +<p> +Thus Benoni muttered to himself, as he walked swiftly to and fro; then, worn +out with his burst of solitary, dream-bred passion, he sank back upon the +couch. +</p> + +<p> +As he sat thus, an Arab doorkeeper, gorgeously apparelled and armed with a +great sword, appeared in the portico, and after looking carefully to see that +his master was not asleep, made a low salaam. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” asked Benoni shortly. +</p> + +<p> +“Master, a young lord named Caleb wishes speech with you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Caleb? I know not the name,” replied Benoni. “Stay, it must +be the son of Hilliel, whom the Roman governor”—and turning, he +spat upon the ground—“has brought to his own again. I heard that he +had come to take possession of the great house on the quay. Bring him +hither.” +</p> + +<p> +The Arab saluted and went. Presently he returned and ushered in Caleb, now a +noble-looking young man clad in fine raiment. Benoni bowed to him and prayed +him to be seated. Caleb bowed in return, touching his forehead in Eastern +fashion with his hand, from which, as his host noticed, the forefinger was +missing. +</p> + +<p> +“I am your servant, sir,” said Benoni with grave courtesy. +</p> + +<p> +“Master, I am your slave,” answered Caleb. “I have been told +that you knew my father; therefore, on this, my first visit to Tyre, I come to +make my respects to you. I am the son of Hilliel, who perished many years ago +in Jerusalem. You may have heard his story and mine.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” answered Benoni scanning his visitor, “I knew +Hilliel—a clever man, but one who fell into a trap at last, and I see +that you are his son. Your face proves it; indeed, it might be Hilliel who +stands before me.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am proud that you should say so,” answered Caleb, though already +he guessed that between Benoni and his father no love had been lost. “You +know,” he added, “that certain of our people seized my inheritance, +which now has been restored to me—in part.” +</p> + +<p> +“By Gessius Florus the procurator, I think, who on this account, has cast +many Jews—some of them innocent—into prison.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed! Is that so? Well, it was concerning this Florus that I came +chiefly to ask your advice. The Roman has kept a full half of my +property,” and Caleb sighed and looked indignant. +</p> + +<p> +“You are indeed fortunate that he has not kept it all.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have been brought up in the desert far from cities,” pleaded +Caleb. “Is there no law by which I may have justice of this man? Cannot +you help me who are great among our people?” +</p> + +<p> +“None,” answered Benoni. “Roman citizens have rights, Jews +what they can get. You can appeal to Cæsar if you wish, as the jackal appealed +to the lion. But if you are wise you will be content with half the carcase. +Also I am not great; I am but an old merchant without authority.” +</p> + +<p> +Caleb looked downfallen. “It seems that the days are hard for us +Jews,” he said. “Well, I will be content and strive to forgive my +enemies.” +</p> + +<p> +“Better be content and strive to smite your enemies,” answered +Benoni. “You who were poor are rich; for this much thank God.” +</p> + +<p> +“Night and morning I do thank Him,” replied Caleb earnestly and +with truth. +</p> + +<p> +Then there was silence for a while. +</p> + +<p> +“Is it your intention to reside in Hezron’s—I mean in your +house—in Tyre?” asked Benoni, breaking it. +</p> + +<p> +“For a time, perhaps, until I find a tenant. I am not accustomed to +towns, and at present they seem to stifle me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where were you brought up, sir?” +</p> + +<p> +“Among the Essenes by Jericho. But I am not an Essene—their creed +disgusted me; I belong to that of my fathers.” +</p> + +<p> +“There are worse men,” replied Benoni. “A brother of my late +wife is an Essene, a kindly natured fool named Ithiel; you may have known +him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes, I know him. He is one of their curators and the guardian of the +lady Miriam, his great-niece.” +</p> + +<p> +The old man started violently, then, recovering himself, said: +</p> + +<p> +“Forgive me, but Miriam was the name of my lost wife—one which it +disturbs me to hear. But how can this girl be Ithiel’s grand-niece? He +had no relations except his sister.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not know,” answered Caleb carelessly. “The story is +that the lady Miriam, whom they call the Queen of the Essenes, was brought to +them nineteen or twenty years ago by a Libyan woman named +Nehushta,”—here again Benoni started—“who said that the +child’s mother, Ithiel’s niece, had been shipwrecked and died after +giving birth to the infant, commanding that it should be brought to him to be +reared. The Essenes consenting, he accepted the charge, and there she is +still.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then is this lady Miriam an Essene?” asked Benoni in a thick, slow +voice. +</p> + +<p> +“No; she is of the sect of the Christians, in which faith she has been +brought up as her mother desired.” +</p> + +<p> +The old man rose from his couch and walked up and down the portico. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me of the lady Miriam, sir,” he said presently, “for +the tale interests me. What is she like?” +</p> + +<p> +“She is, as I believe, the most beautiful maiden in the whole world, +though small and slight; also she is the most sweet and learned.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is high praise, sir,” said Benoni. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, master, and perhaps I exaggerate her charms, as is but +natural.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why is it natural?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because we were brought up together, and I hope that one day she will be +my wife.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you then affianced to this maid?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, not affianced—as yet,” replied Caleb, with a little +smile; “but I will not trouble you with a history of my love affairs. I +have already trespassed too long upon your kindness. It is something to ask of +you who may not desire my acquaintance, but if you will do me the honour to sup +with me to-morrow night, your servant will be grateful.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thank you, young sir. I will come, I will come, for in truth,” +he added hastily, “I am anxious to hear news of all that passes at +Jerusalem, which, I understand, you left but a few days since, and I perceive +that you are one whose eyes and ears are always open.” +</p> + +<p> +“I try both to see and to hear,” said Caleb modestly. “But I +am very inexperienced, and am not sure which cause a man who hopes to become +both wise and good, ought to espouse in these troubled days. I need guidance +such as you could give me if you wished. For this while, farewell.” +</p> + +<p> +Benoni watched his visitor depart, then once more began to wander up and down +the portico. +</p> + +<p> +“I do not trust that young man,” he thought, “of whose doings +I have heard something; but he is rich and able, and may be of service to our +cause. This Miriam of whom he speaks, who can she be? unless, indeed, Rachel +bore a daughter before she died. Why not? She would not have left it to my care +who desired that it should be reared in her own accursed faith and looked upon +me as the murderer of her husband and herself. If so, I who thought myself +childless, yet have issue upon the earth—at least there is one in whom my +blood runs. Beautiful, gifted—but a Christian! The sin of the parents has +descended on the child—yes, the curse is on her also. I must seek her +out. I must know the truth. Man, what is it now? Can you not see that I would +be alone?” +</p> + +<p> +“Master, your pardon,” said the Arab servant, bowing, “but +the Roman captain, Marcus, desires speech with you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Marcus? Oh, I remember the officer who was stationed here. I am not +well, I cannot see him. Bid him come to-morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +“Master, he bid me say that he sails for Rome to-night.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, well, admit him,” answered Benoni. “Perchance he comes +to pay his debt,” he added. +</p> + +<p> +The Arab departed, and presently the Roman was ushered in. +</p> + +<p> +“Greetings, Benoni,” he said, with his pleasant smile. “Here +am I, yet alive, for all your fears; so you see your money is still +safe.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am glad to hear it, my lord Marcus,” answered the Jew, bowing +low. “But if it will please you to produce it, with the interest, I +think,” he added drily, “it may be even safer in my +strongbox.” +</p> + +<p> +Marcus laughed pleasantly. +</p> + +<p> +“Produce it?” he said. “What jest is this? Why, I come to +borrow more to defray my costs to Rome.” +</p> + +<p> +Benoni’s mouth shut like a trap. +</p> + +<p> +“Nay,” said Marcus, holding up his hand, “don’t begin. +I know it all. The times are full of trouble and danger. Such little ready cash +as you have at command is out at interest in safer countries—Egypt, Rome, +and Italy; your correspondent at Alexandria has failed to make you the expected +remittance; and you have reason to believe that every ship in which you are +concerned is now at the bottom of the ocean. So would you be so good as to lend +me half a talent of silver—a thousand shekels in cash and the rest in +bills of exchange on your agents at Brundisium?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Benoni, sternly. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” replied Marcus, with conviction. “Look you, friend +Benoni, the security is excellent. If I don’t get drowned, or have my +throat slit between here and Italy, I am going to be one of the richest men in +Rome; so this is your last chance of lending me a trifle. You don’t +believe it? Then read this letter from Caius, my uncle, and this rescript +signed by Nero the Cæsar.” +</p> + +<p> +Benoni perused the documents and returned them. +</p> + +<p> +“I offer you my congratulations,” he said. “If God permits it +and you will walk steadily, your future should be brilliant, since you are of a +pleasant countenance, and when you choose to use it, behind that countenance +lies a brain. But here I see no security for my money, since even if all things +go right, Italy is a long way off.” +</p> + +<p> +“Man, do you think that I should cheat you?” asked Marcus hotly. +</p> + +<p> +“No, no, but accidents might happen.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I will make it worth your while to risk them. For the half-talent +write a talent charged upon my estate, whether I live or die. And be swift, I +pray you, for I have matters to speak of, of more importance than this +miserable money. Whilst I was commissioner among the Essenes on the banks of +Jordan——” +</p> + +<p> +“The Essenes! What of the Essenes?” broke in Benoni. +</p> + +<p> +Marcus considered him with his grey eyes, then answered: +</p> + +<p> +“Let us settle this little matter of business and I will tell you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good. It is settled; you shall have the acknowledgment to sign and the +consideration in cash and bills before you leave my house. Now what of these +Essenes?” +</p> + +<p> +“Only this,” said Marcus; “they are a strange people who read +the future, I know not how. One of them with whom I became friendly, foretold +that mighty troubles were about to fall upon this land of yours—slaughter +and pestilence, and famine, such as the world has not seen.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is an old prophecy of those accursed Nazarenes,” broke in +Benoni. +</p> + +<p> +“Call them not accursed, friend,” said Marcus, in an odd voice, +“for you should do so least of all men. Nay, hear me out. It may be a +prophecy of the Nazarenes, but it is also a prophecy of the Essenes, and I +believe it, who watch the signs of the times. Now the elder told me this, that +there will be a great uprising of the Jews against the strength of Cæsar, and +that most of those who join in it shall perish. He even gave names, and among +them was yours, friend Benoni. Therefore, because you have lent me money, +although I am a Roman, I have come to Tyre to warn you to keep clear of +rebellions and other tumults.” +</p> + +<p> +The old man listened quietly, but not as one who disbelieves. +</p> + +<p> +“All this may be so,” he said, “but if my name is written in +that book of the dead, the angel of Jehovah has chosen me, and I cannot escape +his sword. Moreover, I am aged, and”—here his eyes +flashed—“it is a good end to die fighting one’s +country’s enemies.” +</p> + +<p> +“How you Jews do love us to be sure!” said Marcus with a little +laugh. +</p> + +<p> +“The nation that sends a Gessius Florus, or even an Albinus, to rule its +alien subjects must needs be loved,” replied Benoni with bitter sarcasm. +“But let us be done with politics lest we grow angry. It is strange, but +a visitor has just left me who was brought up among these Essenes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed,” said Marcus, staring vacantly into the sea. +</p> + +<p> +“He told me that a young and beautiful woman resides with them who is +named the Queen of the Essenes. Did you chance to see her, my lord?” +</p> + +<p> +Instantly Marcus became very wide awake. “Oh, yes, I saw her; and what +else did he tell you?” +</p> + +<p> +“He told me that this lady was both beautiful and learned.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is true,” said Marcus with enthusiasm. “To my mind, +although she is small, I never saw one lovelier, nor do I know a sculptor who +is her equal. If you will come with me to the ship I will open the case and +show you the bust she made of me. But tell me, did this visitor of yours lack +the forefinger on one hand—his right?” +</p> + +<p> +“He did.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I suppose that he is named Caleb.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; but how do you know that?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because I cut off his forefinger,” said Marcus, “in a fair +fight, and,” he added savagely, “he is a young rascal, as murderous +as he is able, whose life I did ill to spare.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah,” said Benoni, “it seems that I have still some +discernment, for just so I judged him. Well, what more do you know of the +lady?” +</p> + +<p> +“Something, since in a way I am affianced to her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed! Well, this is strange, for so, as he told me, is Caleb.” +</p> + +<p> +“He told you that?” said Marcus springing from his chair. +“Then he lies, and would that I had time to prove it on his body! She +rejected him; I have it from Nehushta; also I know it in other ways.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then she did accept you, my lord Marcus?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not quite,” he replied sadly; “but that was only because I +am not a Christian. She loves me all the same,” he added, recovering. +“Upon that point there can be no doubt.” +</p> + +<p> +“Caleb seemed to doubt it,” suggested Benoni. +</p> + +<p> +“Caleb is a liar,” repeated Marcus with emphasis, “and one of +whom you will do well to beware.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why should I beware of him?” +</p> + +<p> +Marcus paused a moment, then answered boldly: +</p> + +<p> +“Because the lady Miriam is your granddaughter and the heiress of your +wealth. I say it, since if I did not Caleb would; probably he has done so +already.” +</p> + +<p> +For a moment Benoni hid his face in his hands. Then he lifted it and said: +</p> + +<p> +“I thought as much, and now I am sure. But, my lord Marcus, if my blood +is hers my wealth is my own.” +</p> + +<p> +“Just so. Keep it if you will, or leave it where you will. It is Miriam I +seek, and not your money.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think that Caleb seeks both Miriam and my money—like a prudent +man. Why should he not have them? He is a Jew of good blood; he will, I think, +rise high.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I am a Roman of better blood who will rise higher.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, a Roman, and I, the grandfather, am a Jew who do not love you +Romans.” +</p> + +<p> +“And Miriam is neither Jew nor Roman, but a Christian, brought up not by +you, but by the Essenes; and she loves me, although she will not marry me +because I am not a Christian.” +</p> + +<p> +Benoni shrugged his shoulders as he answered: +</p> + +<p> +“All of this is a problem which I must ponder on and solve.” +</p> + +<p> +Marcus sprang from his seat and stood before the old man with menace in his +air. +</p> + +<p> +“Look you, Benoni,” he said, “this is a problem not to be +solved by you or by Caleb, but by Miriam herself, and none other. Do you +understand?” +</p> + +<p> +“I understand that you threaten me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ay, I do. Miriam is of full age; her sojourn with the Essenes must come +to an end. Doubtless you will take her to dwell with you. Well, beware how you +deal by her. If she wishes to marry Caleb of her own free will, let her do so. +But if you force her to it, or suffer him to force her, then by your God, and +by my gods, and by her God, I tell you that I will come back and take such a +vengeance upon him and upon you, and upon all your people, that it shall be a +story for generations. Do you believe me?” +</p> + +<p> +Benoni looked up at the man who stood before him in his youth and beauty, his +eyes on fire and his form quivering with rage, and looking, shrank back a +little. He did not know that this light-hearted Roman had such strength and +purpose at command. Now he understood for the first time that he was a true son +of the terrible race of conquerors, who, if he were crossed, could be as +merciless as the worst of them, one whose very honesty and openness made him to +be feared the more. +</p> + +<p> +“I understand that you believe what you say. Whether when you are back at +Rome, where there are women as fair as the Queen of the Essenes, you will +continue to believe it, is another matter.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, a matter for me to settle.” +</p> + +<p> +“Quite so—for you to settle. Have you anything to add to the +commands you are pleased to lay upon your humble creditor, Benoni the +merchant?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, two things. First, that when I leave this house you will no longer +be my creditor. I have brought money to pay you off in full, principal and +interest. My talk of borrowing was but a play and excuse to learn what you knew +of Miriam. Nay, do not start, though it may seem strange to you that I also can +be subtle. Foolish man, did you think that I with my prospects should be left +to lack for a miserable half-talent? Why, there at Jerusalem I could have +borrowed ten, or twenty, if I would promise my patronage by way of interest. My +servants wait with the gold without. Call them in presently and pay yourself, +principal and interest, and something for a bonus. Now for the second, Miriam +is a Christian. Beware how you tamper with her faith. It is not mine, but I +say—beware how you tamper with it. You gave her father and her mother, +your own daughter, to be slaughtered by gladiators and to be torn by lions +because, forsooth, they did not think as you do. Lift one finger against her +and I will hale you into the amphitheatre at Rome, there yourself to be +slaughtered by gladiators, or to be torn by lions. Although I am absent I shall +know all that you do, for I have friends who are good and spies that are +better. Moreover, I return here shortly. Now I ask you, will you give me your +solemn word, swearing it by that God whom you worship, first, that you will not +attempt to force your granddaughter Miriam into marriage with Caleb the Jew; +and secondly, that you will shelter her, treating her with all honour, and +suffering her to follow her own faith in freedom?” +</p> + +<p> +Benoni sprang from his couch. +</p> + +<p> +“No, Roman, I will not. Who are you who dare to dictate to me in my own +house as to how I shall deal with my own grandchild? Pay what you owe and get +you gone, and darken my doors no more. I have done with you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” said Marcus. “Well, perhaps it is time that you should +travel. Those who travel and see strange countries and peoples, grow +liberal-minded, which you are not. Be pleased to read this paper,” and he +laid a writing before him. +</p> + +<p> +Benoni took it and read. It was worded thus: +</p> + +<p> +“To Marcus, the son of Emilius, the captain, in the name of Cæsar, +greetings. Hereby we command you, should you in your discretion think fit, to +seize the person of Benoni, the Jewish merchant, a dweller in Tyre, and to +convey him as a prisoner to Rome, there to answer charges which have been laid +against him, with the particulars of which you are acquainted, which said +particulars you will find awaiting you in Rome, of having conspired with +certain other Jews, to overthrow the authority of Cæsar in this his province of +Judæa. +</p> + +<p> +“(Signed) Gessius Florus, Procurator.” +</p> + +<p> +Benoni having read sank back upon his couch, gasping, his white face livid with +surprise and fear. Then a thought seemed to strike him. Seizing the paper he +tore it into fragments. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, Roman,” he said, “where is your warrant?” +</p> + +<p> +“In my pocket,” answered Marcus; “that which I showed you was +but a copy. Nay, do not ring, do not touch that bell. See this,” and he +drew a silver whistle from his robe. “Outside your gate stand fifty +soldiers. Shall I sound it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not so,” answered Benoni. “I will swear the oath, though +indeed it is needless. Why should you suppose that I could wish to force this +maid into any marriage, or to work her evil on account of matters of her +faith?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because you are a Jew and a bigot. You gave her father and her mother to +a cruel death, why should you spare her? Also you hate me and all my people; +why, then, should you not favour my rival, although he is a murderer whose life +I have twice spared at the prayer of Miriam? Swear now.” +</p> + +<p> +So Benoni lifted his hand and swore a solemn oath that he would not force his +granddaughter, Miriam, to marry Caleb, or any other man; and that he would not +betray the secret of her faith, or persecute her because of it. +</p> + +<p> +“It is not enough,” said Marcus. “Write it down and +sign.” +</p> + +<p> +So Benoni went to the table and wrote out his undertaking and signed it, Marcus +signing also as a witness. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, Benoni,” he said, as he took the paper, “listen to me. +That warrant leaves your taking to my discretion, after I have made search into +the facts. I have made such search and it seems that I am not satisfied. But +remember that the warrant is still alive and can be executed at any moment. +Remember also that you are watched and if you lift a finger against the girl, +it will be put in force. For the rest—if you desire that the prophecy of +the Essene should not come true, it is my advice that you cease from making +plots against the majesty of Cæsar. Now bid your servant summon him who waits +in the antechamber, that he may discharge my debt. And so farewell. When and +where we shall meet again I do not know, but be sure that we shall meet.” +Then Marcus left the portico. +</p> + +<p> +Benoni watched him go, and as he watched, an evil look gathered on his face. +</p> + +<p> +“Threatened. Trodden to the dirt. Outwitted by that Roman boy,” he +murmured. “Is there any cup of shame left for me to drink? Who is the +traitor and how much does he know? Something, but not all, else my arrest could +scarcely have been left to the fancy of this patrician, favourite though he be. +Yes, my lord Marcus, I too am sure that we shall meet again, but the fashion of +that meeting may be little to your taste. You have had your hour, mine is to +come. For the rest, I must keep my oath, since to break it would be too +dangerous, and might cut the hair that holds the sword. Also, why should I wish +to harm the girl, or to wed her to this rogue Caleb, than whom, mayhap, even +the Roman would be better? At least he is a man who does not cheat or lie. +Indeed, I long to see the maid. I will go at once to Jordan.” +</p> + +<p> +Then he sounded his bell and commanded that the servant of the lord Marcus +should be admitted. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap11"></a>CHAPTER XI<br/> +THE ESSENES LOSE THEIR QUEEN</h2> + +<p> +The Court of the Essenes was gathered in council debating the subject of the +departure of their ward, Miriam. She must go, that was evident, since not even +for her, whom they loved as though each of them had been in truth her father or +her uncle, could their ancient, sacred rule be broken. But where was she to go +and how should she be supported as became her? These were the questions that +troubled them and that they debated earnestly. At length her great-uncle Ithiel +suggested that she should be summoned before them, that they might hear her +wishes. To this his brethren agreed, and he was sent to fetch her. +</p> + +<p> +A while later, attended by Nehushta, Miriam arrived, clad in a robe of pure +white, and wearing on her head a wimple of white, edged with purple, and about +her waist a purple scarf. So greatly did the Essenes love and reverence this +maid, that as she entered, all the hundred of the Court rose and remaining +standing until she herself was seated. Then the President, who was sorrowful +and even shamefaced, addressed her, telling her their trouble, and praying her +pardon because the ordinance of their order forced them to arrange that she +should depart from among them. At the end of this speech he asked her what were +her wishes as regarded her own future, adding that for her maintenance she need +have no fear, since out of their revenues a modest sum would be set aside +annually which would suffice to keep her from poverty. +</p> + +<p> +In answer Miriam, also speaking sadly, thanked them from her heart for all +their goodness, telling them she had long known this hour of separation to be +at hand. As to where she should dwell, since tumults were so many in Jerusalem, +she suggested that she might find a home in one of the coast cities, where +perhaps some friend or relative of the brethren would shelter Nehushta and +herself. +</p> + +<p> +Instantly eight or ten of those present said that they knew such trusty folk in +one place or another, and the various offers were submitted to the Court for +discussion. While the talk was still going on there came a knock upon the door. +After the usual questions and precautions, a brother was admitted who informed +them that there had arrived in the village, at the head of a considerable +retinue, Benoni, the Jewish merchant of Tyre. He stated that he desired speech +with them on the subject of his granddaughter Miriam, who, he learned, was, or +had been recently, in their charge. +</p> + +<p> +“Here may be an answer to the riddle,” said the President. +“We know of this Benoni, also that he purposed to demand his +granddaughter of us, though until he did so it was not for us to speak.” +Then he put it to the Court that Benoni should be admitted. +</p> + +<p> +To this they agreed, and presently the Jew came, splendidly attired, his long +white beard flowing down a robe that glittered with embroideries of gold and +silver. Entering the dim, cool hall, he stared in amazement at the long +half-circles of venerable, white-robed men who were gathered there. Next his +quick eyes fell upon the lovely maiden who, attended by the dark-visaged +Nehushta, sat before them on a seat of honour; and looking, he guessed that she +must be Miriam. +</p> + +<p> +“Little wonder,” reflected Benoni to himself, “that all men +seem to love this girl, since at the first sight of her my own heart +softens.” +</p> + +<p> +Then he bowed to the President of the Court and the President bowed back in +answer. But not one of the rest so much as moved his head, since already every +man of them hated this stranger who was about to carry away her whom they +called their Queen. +</p> + +<p> +“Sirs,” said Benoni breaking the silence, “I come here upon a +strange errand—namely, to ask of you a maid whom I believe to be my +granddaughter, of whose existence I learned not long ago, and whom, as it +seems, you have sheltered from her birth. Is she among you here?” and he +looked at Miriam. +</p> + +<p> +“The lady Miriam sits yonder,” said the President. “You are +right in naming her your granddaughter, as we have known her to be from the +beginning.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then why,” said Benoni, “did I not know it also?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because,” answered the President quietly, “we did not think +it fitting to deliver a child that was committed to our charge, to the care of +one who had brought her father, and tried to bring her mother, his own seed, to +the most horrible of deaths.” +</p> + +<p> +As he spoke he fixed his eyes indignantly upon Benoni; as did every man of all +that great company, till even the bold-faced Jew dropped his head abashed. +</p> + +<p> +“I am not here,” he said, recovering himself, “to make +defence of what I have done, or have not done in the past. I am here to demand +that my grandchild, now as I perceive a woman grown, may be handed over to me, +her natural guardian.” +</p> + +<p> +“Before this can be considered,” answered the President, “we +who have been her guardians for so many years, should require guarantees and +sureties.” +</p> + +<p> +“What guarantees, and what sureties?” asked Benoni. +</p> + +<p> +“These among others—That money sufficient for her support after +your death should be settled upon her. That she shall be left reasonable +liberty in the matter of her daily life and her marriage, if it should please +her to marry. Lastly, that as we have undertaken not to meddle with her faith, +or to oppress her into changing it, so must you undertake also.” +</p> + +<p> +“And if I refuse these things?” asked Benoni. +</p> + +<p> +“Then you see the lady Miriam for the first and last time,” +answered the President boldly, while the others nodded approval. “We are +men of peace, but, merchant, you must not, therefore, think us men without +power. We must part with the lady Miriam, who to every one of us is as a +daughter, because the unbreakable rule of our order ordains that she, who is +now a woman grown, can no longer remain among us. But wherever she dwells, to +the last day of her life our love shall go with her and the whole strength of +our Order shall protect her. If any harm is attempted to her, we shall be swift +to hear and swifter to avenge. If you refuse our conditions, she will vanish +from your sight, and then, merchant, go, search the world, the coasts of Syria, +the banks of Egypt, and the cities of Italy—and find her if you can. We +have spoken.” +</p> + +<p> +Benoni stroked his white beard before he answered. +</p> + +<p> +“You talk proudly,” he said. “Did I shut my eyes I might +fancy that this voice was the voice of a Roman procurator speaking the decrees +of Cæsar. Still, I am ready to believe that what you promise you can perform, +since I for one am sure that you Essenes are not mere harmless heretics who +worship angels and demons, see visions, prophesy things to come by the help of +your familiars, and adore the sun in huts upon the desert.” He paused, +but the President, without taking the slightest notice of his insults or +sarcasms, repeated merely: +</p> + +<p> +“We have spoken,” and as with one voice, like some great echo, the +whole hundred of them cried, “We have spoken!” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you hear them, master?” said Nehushta in the silence that +followed. “Well, I know them. They mean what they say, and you are +right—what which they threaten they can perform.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let my grandchild speak,” said Benoni. “Daughter, is it your +wish that such dishonouring bonds should be laid upon me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Grandsire,” replied Miriam, in a pure, clear voice, “I may +not quarrel with that which is done for my own good. For the wealth I care +little, but I would not become a slave in everything save the name, nor do I +desire to set my feet in that path my parents trod. What my uncles +say—all of these”—and she waved her +hand—“speaking in the name of the thousands that are without, that +I do, for they love me and I love them, and their mind is my mind and their +words are my words.” +</p> + +<p> +“Proud-spirited, and well spoken, like all her race,” muttered +Benoni. Still he stroked his beard and hesitated. +</p> + +<p> +“Be pleased to give your answer,” said the President, “that +we may finish our discussion before the hour of evening prayer. To help you to +it, remember one thing—we ask no new conditions.” Benoni glanced up +quickly and the President added: “Those of which we have received a copy, +that you swore to and signed in the presence of Marcus the Roman, are enough +for us.” +</p> + +<p> +Now it was Miriam’s turn to look, first up and then down. As for her +grandfather, he turned white with anger, and broke into a bitter laugh. +</p> + +<p> +“Now I understand——” +</p> + +<p> +“——that the arm of the Essenes is longer than you thought, +since it can reach from here to Rome,” said the President. +</p> + +<p> +“Ay! that you can plot with Romans. Well, be careful lest the sword of +these Romans prove longer than <i>you</i> thought and reach even to your +hearts, O you peaceful dwellers in the desert!” Then, as though he feared +some answer, he added quickly, “I am minded to return and leave this +maiden with you to dispose of as you think fit. Yet I will not do so, for she +is very fair and gracious, and with the wealth that I can give her, may fill +some high place in the world. Also—and this is more to me—I am old +and draw near my end and she alone has my blood in her veins. Therefore I will +agree to all your terms, and take her home with me to Tyre, trusting that she +may learn to love me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good,” said the President. “To-morrow the papers shall be +prepared and signed. Meanwhile we pray you to be our guest.” +</p> + +<p> +Next evening signed they were accordingly, Benoni agreeing without demur to all +that the Essenes asked on behalf of her who had been their ward, and even +assigning to her a separate revenue during his lifetime. Indeed, now that he +had seen her, so loth was he to part with this new-found daughter, that he +would have done still more had it been asked of him, lest she should be +spirited from his sight, as, did he refuse, might well happen. +</p> + +<p> +Three days later Miriam bade farewell to her protectors, who accompanied her by +hundreds to the ridge above the village. Here they stopped, and seeing that the +moment of separation was at hand, Miriam’s tears began to flow. +</p> + +<p> +“Weep not, beloved child,” said Ithiel, “for though we part +with you in body, yet shall we always be with you in the spirit, now in this +life, and as we think, after this life. Moreover, by night and day, we shall +watch over you, and if any attempt to harm you—” here he glanced at +Benoni, that brother-in-law to whom he bore but little love—“the +very winds will bear us tidings, and in this way or that, help will +come.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have no fear, Ithiel,” broke in Benoni, “my bond, which you +hold, is good and it will be backed by love.” +</p> + +<p> +“That I believe also,” said Miriam; “and if it be so, +grandsire, I will repay love for love.” Then she turned to the Essenes +and thanked them in broken words. +</p> + +<p> +“Be not downhearted,” said Ithiel in a thick voice, “for I +hope that even in this life we shall meet again.” +</p> + +<p> +“May it be so,” answered Miriam, and they parted, the Essenes +returning sadly to their home, and Benoni taking the road through Jericho to +Jerusalem. +</p> + +<p> +Travelling slowly, at the evening of the second day they set their camp on open +ground not far from the Damascus gate of the Holy City, but within the new +north wall that had been built by Agrippa. Into the city itself Benoni would +not enter, fearing lest the Roman soldiers should plunder them. At moonrise +Nehushta took Miriam by the hand and led her through the resting camels to a +spot a few yards from the camp. +</p> + +<p> +There, standing with her back to the second wall, she pointed out to her a +cliff, steep but of no great height, in which appeared little caves and ridges +of rock that, looked at from this distance, gave to its face a rude resemblance +to a human skull. +</p> + +<p> +“See,” she said solemnly. “Yonder the Lord was +crucified.” +</p> + +<p> +Miriam heard and sank to her knees in prayer. As she knelt there the grave +voice of her grandfather spoke behind her, bidding her rise. +</p> + +<p> +“Child,” he said, “it is true. True is it also that signs and +wonders happened after the death of that false Messiah, and that for me and +mine He left a curse behind Him which it may well be is not done with yet. I +know your faith, and I have promised to let you follow it in peace. Yet I +beseech of you, do not make prayers to your God here in public, where with +malefactors He suffered as a malefactor, lest others less tolerant should see +you and drag you to your father’s death.” +</p> + +<p> +Miriam bowed her head and returned to the camp, nor at that time did any +further words pass between them on this matter of her religion. Thenceforward, +however, she was careful to do nothing which could bring suspicion on her +grandfather. +</p> + +<p> +Four days later they came to the rich and beautiful city of Tyre, and Miriam +saw the sea upon which she had been born. Hitherto, she had fancied that its +waters were much like those of the Dead Lake, upon whose shores she had dwelt +so many years; but when she perceived the billows rushing onwards, +white-crested, to break in thunder against the walls of island Tyre, she +clapped her hands with joy. Indeed, from that day to the end of her life she +loved the sea in all its moods, and for hours at a time would find it +sufficient company. Perhaps this was because the seethe of its waves was the +first sound that her ears had heard, while her first breath was salted with its +spray. +</p> + +<p> +From Jerusalem, Benoni had sent messengers mounted on swift horses bidding his +servants make ready to receive a guest. So it came about that when she entered +his palace in Tyre, Miriam found it decked as though for a bride, and wandered +in amazement—she who had known nothing better than the mud-houses of the +Essenes—from hall to hall of the ancient building that in bygone +generations had been the home of kings and governors. Benoni followed her +steps, watching her with grave eyes, till at length all was visited save the +gardens belonging to him which were on the mainland. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you pleased with your new home, daughter?” he asked presently. +</p> + +<p> +“My grandfather, it is beautiful,” she answered. “Never have +I dreamed of such a place as this. Say, may I work my art in one of these great +rooms?” +</p> + +<p> +“Miriam,” he answered, “of this house henceforth you are the +mistress, as in time to come you will be its owner. Believe me, child, it was +not needed that so many and such different men should demand from me sureties +for your comfort and your safety. All I have is yours, whilst all you have, +including your faith and your friends, of whom there seem to be many, remains +your own. Yet, should it please you to give me in return some small share of +your love, I who am childless and friendless shall be grateful.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is my desire,” answered Miriam hurriedly; “only, +grandsire, between you and me——” +</p> + +<p> +“Speak it not,” he said, with a gesture almost of despair, +“or rather I will speak it—between you and me runs the river of +your parents’ blood. It is so, yet, Miriam, I will confess to you that I +repent me of that deed. Age makes us judge more kindly. To me your faith is +nothing and your God a sham, yet I know now that to worship Him is not worthy +of death—at least not for that cause would I bring any to their death +to-day, or even to stripes and bonds. I will go further; I will stoop even to +borrow from His creed. Do not His teachings bid you to forgive those who have +done you wrong?” +</p> + +<p> +“They do, and that is why Christians love all mankind.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then bring that law into this home of ours, Miriam, and love me who +sorrow for what I did in the blind rage of my zeal, and who now in my old age +am haunted by its memory.” +</p> + +<p> +Then for the first time Miriam threw herself into the old man’s arms and +kissed him on the brow. +</p> + +<p> +So it came about that they made their peace and were happy together. +</p> + +<p> +Indeed, day by day Benoni loved her more, till at length she was everything to +him, and he grew jealous of all who sought her company, and especially of +Nehushta. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap12"></a>CHAPTER XII<br/> +THE RING, THE NECKLACE AND THE LETTER</h2> + +<p> +So Miriam came to Tyre, where, for many months, her life was peaceful and happy +enough. At first she had feared meeting Caleb, who she knew from her +grandfather was dwelling there; but as it chanced, he had left the city upon +business of his own, so for the while she was free of him. In Tyre were many +Christians with whom she made friends and worshipped, Benoni pretending to know +nothing of the matter. Indeed, at this time and place it was the Jews rather +than the Christians who were in danger at the hands of the Syrians and Greeks, +who hated them for their wealth and faith, threatening them continually with +robbery and massacre. But as yet that storm did not burst, and in its brewing +the Christians, who were few, humble, and of all races, escaped notice. +</p> + +<p> +Thus it came about that Miriam dwelt in quiet, occupying herself much with her +art of modelling and going abroad but little, since it was scarcely safe for +her, the grandchild of the rich Jew merchant, to show her face in the streets. +Though she was surrounded by every luxury, far more than she needed, indeed, +this lack of liberty irked her who had been reared in the desert, till at times +she grew melancholy and would sit for hours looking on the sea and thinking. +She thought of her mother who had sat thus before her; of her father, who had +perished beneath the gladiators’ swords; of the kindly old men who had +nurtured her, and of the sufferings of her brothers and sisters in the faith in +Rome and at Jerusalem. But most of all she thought of Marcus, her Roman lover, +whom, strive as she would, she could never forget—no, not for a single +hour. She loved him, that was the truth of it, and between them there was a +great gulf fixed, not of the sea only, which ships could sail, but of that +command which the dead had laid upon her. He was a pagan and she was a +Christian, and they might not wed. By now, too, it was likely that he had +forgotten her, the girl who took his fancy in the desert. At Rome there were +many noble and lovely women—oh! she could scarcely bear to think of it. +Yet night by night she prayed for him, and morn by morn his face arose before +her half-awakened eyes. Where was he? What was he doing? For aught she knew he +might be dead. Nay, for then, surely, her heart would have warned her. Still, +she craved for tidings, and alas! there were none. +</p> + +<p> +At length tidings did come—the best of tidings. One day, wearying of the +house, with the permission of her grandfather, and escorted by servants, Miriam +had gone to walk in the gardens that he owned to the north of that part of the +city on the mainland, which was called Palætyrus. They were lovely gardens, +well watered and running down to the sea-edge, and in them grew beautiful palms +and other trees, with fruitful shrubs and flowers. Here, when they had roamed a +while, Miriam and Nehushta sat down upon the fallen column of some old temple +and rested. Suddenly they heard a footstep, and Miriam looked up to see before +her a Roman officer, clad in a cloak that showed signs of sea-travel, and, +guiding him, one of Benoni’s servants. +</p> + +<p> +The officer, a rough but kindly looking man of middle age, bowed to her, asking +in Greek if he spoke to the lady Miriam, the granddaughter of Benoni the Jew, +she who had been brought up among the Essenes. +</p> + +<p> +“Sir, I am she,” answered Miriam. +</p> + +<p> +“Then, lady, I, who am named Gallus, have an errand to perform”; +and drawing from his robe a letter tied with silk and sealed, and with the +letter a package, he handed them to her. +</p> + +<p> +“Who sends these?” she asked, hope shining in her eyes, “and +whence come they?” +</p> + +<p> +“From Rome, lady, as fast as sails could waft them and me. And the sender +is the noble Marcus, called the Fortunate.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” said Miriam, blushing to her eyes, “tell me, sir, is he +well?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not so well but that such a look as that, lady, would better him, or any +other man, could he be here to see it,” answered the Roman, gazing at her +with admiration. +</p> + +<p> +“Did you then leave him ill? I do not understand.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, his health seemed sound, and his uncle Caius being dead his wealth +can scarce be counted, or so they say, since the old man made him his heir. +Perhaps that is why the divine Nero has taken such a fancy to him that he can +scarce leave the palace. Therefore I cannot say that Marcus is well to-day, +since sometimes Nero’s friends are short-lived. Nay, be not frightened, I +did but jest; your Marcus is safe enough. Read the letter, lady, and waste no +time. As for me, my mission is fulfilled. Thank me not; it is reward enough to +have seen that sweet face of yours. Fortunate indeed is the star of Marcus, +and, though I am jealous of the man, for your sake I pray that it may lead him +back to you. Lady, farewell.” +</p> + +<p> +“Cut the silk, Nou,” said Miriam when the Captain Gallus had gone. +“Quick. I have no knife.” +</p> + +<p> +Nehushta obeyed smiling and the letter was unrolled. It, or those parts of it +which concern us, ran thus: +</p> + +<p> +“To the lady Miriam, from Marcus the Roman, her friend, by the hand of +the Captain Gallus. +</p> + +<p> +“Dear friend and lady, greeting. Already since I came here I have written +you one letter, but this day news has reached me that the ship which bore it +foundered off the coast of Sicily. So, as Neptune has that letter, and with it +many good men, although I write more ill than I do most things, I send you +another by this occasion, hoping, I who am vain, that you have not forgotten +me, and that the reading of it may even give you pleasure. Most dear Miriam, +know that I accomplished my voyage to Rome in safety, visiting your grandsire +on the way to pay him a debt I owed. But that story you will perhaps have +heard. +</p> + +<p> +“From Tyre I sailed for Italy, but was cast away upon the coasts of +Melita, where many of us were drowned. By the favour of some god, +however—ah! what god I wonder—I escaped, and taking another ship +came safely to Brundisium, whence I travelled as fast as horses would carry me +to Rome. Here I arrived but just in time, for I found my uncle Caius very ill. +Believing, moreover, that I had been drowned in the shipwreck at Melita, he was +about to make a will bequeathing his property to the Emperor Nero, but by good +fortune of this he had said nothing. Had he done so I should, I think, be as +poor to-day as when I left you, dear, and perhaps poorer still, for I might +have lost my head with my inheritance. +</p> + +<p> +“As it was I found favour in the sight of my uncle Caius, who a week +after my arrival executed a formal testament leaving to me all his land, goods, +and moneys, which on his death three months later I inherited. Thus I have +become rich—so rich that now, having much money to spend, by some +perversity which I cannot explain, I have grown careful and spend as little as +possible. After I had entered into my inheritance I made a plan to return to +Judæa, for one reason and one alone—to be near to you, most sweet Miriam. +At the last moment I was stayed by a very evil chance. That bust which you made +of me I had managed to save from the shipwreck and bring safe to Rome—now +I wish it was at the bottom of the sea, and you shall learn why. +</p> + +<p> +“When I came into possession of this house in the Via Agrippa, which is +large and beautiful, I set it in a place of honour in the antechamber and +summoned that sculptor, Glaucus, of whom I have spoken to you, and others who +follow the art, to come and pass judgment upon the work. They came, they +wondered and they were silent, for each of them feared lest in praising it he +should exalt some rival. When, however, I told them that it was the work of a +lady in Judæa, although they did not believe me, since all of them declared +that no woman had shaped that marble, knowing that they had nothing to fear +from so distant an artist whoever he might be, they began to praise the work +with one voice, and all that evening until the wine overcame them, talked of +nothing else. Also they continued talking on the morrow, until at length the +fame of the thing came to the ears of Nero, who also is an artist of music and +other things. The end of it was that one day, without warning, the Emperor +visited my house and demanded to see the bust, which I showed to him. For many +minutes he examined it through the emerald with which he aids his sight, then +asked: +</p> + +<p> +“‘What land had the honour to bear the genius who wrought this +work?’ +</p> + +<p> +“I answered, ‘Judæa,’ a country, by the way, of which he +seemed to know little, except that some fanatics dwelt there, who refused to +worship him. He said that he would make that artist ruler of Judæa. I replied +that the artist was a woman, whereon he answered that he cared +nothing—she should still rule Judæa, or if this could not be managed he +would send and bring her to Rome to make a statue of him to be set up in the +Temple at Jerusalem for the Jews to worship. +</p> + +<p> +“Now I saw that I had been foolish, and knowing well what would have been +your fate, my Miriam, had he once set eyes on you, I sighed and answered, that +alas! it was impossible, since you were dead, as I proved to him by a long +story with which I will not trouble you. Moreover, now that he was sure that +you were dead, I showed him the little statuette of yourself looking into +water, which you gave me. Whereon he burst into tears, at the thought that such +an one had departed from the earth, while it was still cursed with so many who +are wicked, old and ugly. +</p> + +<p> +“Still he did not go, but remained admiring the bust, till at length one +of his favourites who accompanied him, whispered in my ear that I must present +it to the Emperor. I refused, whereon he whispered back that if I did not, +assuredly before long it would be taken, and with it all my other goods, and, +perhaps, my life. So, since I must, I changed my mind and prayed him to accept +it; whereon he embraced, first the marble and then me, and caused it to be +borne away then and there, leaving me mad with rage. +</p> + +<p> +“Now I tell you all this silly story for a reason, since it has hindered +and still hinders me from leaving Rome. Thus: two days later I received an +Imperial decree, in which it was stated that the incomparable work of art +brought from Judæa by Marcus, the son of Emilius, had been set up in a certain +temple, where those who would please their Emperor were desired to present +themselves and worship it and the soul of her by whom it was fashioned. +Moreover, it was commanded that I, Marcus, whose features had served as a model +for the work, should be its guardian and attend twice weekly in the temple, +that all might see how the genius of a great artist is able to make a thing of +immortal beauty from a coarse original of flesh and blood. Oh, Miriam, I have +no patience to write of this folly, yet the end of it is, that except at the +cost of my fortune and the risk of my life, it is impossible for me to leave +Rome. Twice every week, or by special favour, once only, must I attend in that +accursed temple where my own likeness stands upon a pedestal of marble, and +before it a marble altar, on which are cut the words: ‘Sacrifice, O +passer-by, to the spirit of the departed genius who wrought this divine +work.’ +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, there I sit, I who am a soldier, while fools come in and gaze first +at the marble and then at me, saying things for which often I long to kill +them, and casting grains of incense into the little fire on the altar in +sacrifice to your spirit, whereby I trust it may be benefited. Thus, Miriam, +are we ruled in Rome to-day. +</p> + +<p> +“Meanwhile, I am in great favour with Nero, so that men call me +‘the Fortunate,’ and my house the ‘Fortunate House,’ a +title of ill-omen. +</p> + +<p> +“Yet out of this evil comes some good, since because of his present +affection for me, or my bust, I have now and again for your sake, Miriam, been +able to do service, even to the saving of their lives, to those of your faith. +Here there are many Christians whom it is an amusement to Nero to persecute, +torture, and slay, sometimes by soaking them in tar and making of them living +torches to illuminate his gardens, and sometimes in other fashions. The lives +of sundry of these poor people he has given to me, when I begged them of him. +Indeed, he has done more. Yesterday Nero came himself to the temple and +suggested that certain of the Christians should be sacrificed in a very cruel +fashion here as an offering to your spirit. I answered that this could give it +little pleasure, seeing that in your lifetime you also were a Christian. +Thereon he wrung his hands, crying out, ‘Oh! what a crime have I +committed,’ and instantly gave orders that no more Christians should be +killed. So for a little while, thanks to your handiwork, and to me who am +called ‘the Model,’ they are safe—those who are left of them. +</p> + +<p> +“I hear that there are wars and tumults in Judæa, and that Vespasian, a +great general, is to be sent to quell them. If I can I will come with him, but +at present—such is the madness of my master—this is too much to +hope, unless, indeed, he wearies suddenly of the ‘Divine Work’ and +its attendant ‘Model.’ +</p> + +<p> +“Meanwhile I also cast incense upon your altar, and pray that in these +troubles you may come to no harm. +</p> + +<p> +“Miriam, I am most unhappy. I think of you always and yet I cannot come +to you. I picture you in many dangers, and I am not there to save you. I even +dare to hope that you would wish to see me again; but it is the Jew Caleb, and +other men, who see you and make offerings to your sweet beauty as I make them +to your spirit. I beseech you, Miriam, do not accept the offerings, lest in +some day to come, when I am once more a soldier, and have ceased to be a +custodian of busts, it should be the worse for those worshippers, and +especially for Caleb. +</p> + +<p> +“What else have I to tell you? I have sought out some of the great +preachers of your faith, hoping that by the magic whereof they are said to be +masters, they would be able to assure me of your welfare. But to my sorrow they +gave me no magic—in which it seems they do not deal—only maxims. +Also, from these I bought for a great sum certain manuscripts written by +themselves containing the doctrines of your law, which I intend to study so +soon as I have time. Indeed, this is a task which I wish to postpone, since did +I read I might believe and turn Christian, to serve in due course as a +night-light in Nero’s gardens. +</p> + +<p> +“I send you a present, praying that you will accept it. The emerald in +the ring is cut by my friend, the sculptor Glaucus. The pearls are fine and +have a history which I hope to tell you some day. Wear them always, beloved +Miriam, for my sake. I do not forget your words; nay, I ponder them day and +night. But at least you said you loved me, and in wearing these trinkets you +break no duty to the dead. Write to me, I pray you, if you can find a +messenger. Or, if you cannot write, think of me always as I do of you. Oh, that +we were back together in that happy village of the Essenes, to whom, as to +yourself, be all good fortune! Farewell. +</p> + +<p> +“Your ever faithful friend and lover, +</p> + +<p> +“Marcus.” +</p> + +<p> +Miriam finished her letter, kissed it, and hid it in her bosom. Then she opened +the packet and unlocked the ivory box within by a key that hung to it. Out of +the casket she took a roll of soft leather. This she undid and uttered a little +cry of joy, for there lay a necklace of the most lovely pearls that she had +ever seen. Nor was this all, for threaded on the pearls was a ring, and cut +upon its emerald bezel the head of Marcus, and her own head taken from the +likeness she had given him. +</p> + +<p> +“Look! Nou, look!” said Miriam, showing her the beauteous trinkets. +</p> + +<p> +“A sight to make old eyes glisten,” answered Nehushta handling +them. “I know something of pearls, and these are worth a fortune. Happy +maid, to whom is given such a lover.” +</p> + +<p> +“Unhappy maid who can never be a happy wife,” sighed Miriam, her +blue eyes filling with tears. +</p> + +<p> +“Grieve not; that still may chance,” answered Nehushta, as she +fastened the pearls about Miriam’s neck. “At least you have heard +from him and he still loves you, which is much. Now for the ring—the +marriage finger—see, how it fits.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, I have no right,” murmured Miriam; still she did not draw it +off again. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, let us be going,” said Nehushta, hiding the casket in her +amble robe, “for the sun sinks, and to-night there are guests to +supper.” +</p> + +<p> +“What guests?” asked Miriam absently. +</p> + +<p> +“Plotters, every one,” said Nehushta, shrugging her shoulders. +“The great scheme to drive the Romans from the Holy City ripens fast, and +your grandsire waters its root. I pray that we may not all of us gather bitter +grapes from that vine. Have you heard that Caleb is back in Tyre?” +</p> + +<p> +“Caleb!” faltered Miriam, “No.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, he is. He arrived yesterday and will be among the guests to-night. +He has been fighting up in the desert there, and bravely, for I am told that he +was one of those who seized the fortress of Masada and put its Roman garrison +to the sword.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then he is against the Romans?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, because he hopes to rule the Jews, and risks much to gain +more.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not wish to meet him,” said Miriam. +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, but you must, and the sooner the better. Why do you fear the +man?” +</p> + +<p> +“I know not, but fear him I do, now and always.” +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +When Miriam entered the supper chamber that night, the guests to the number of +twelve were already seated on their couches, waiting for the feast to begin. By +her grandfather’s command she was arrayed in her richest robes fashioned +and broidered after the Grecian fashion, having her hair gathered into coils +upon her head and held with a golden net. Round her waist was a girdle of gold +set with gems, about her throat the necklace of pearls which Marcus had sent +her, and on her hand a single ring—that with his likeness and her own. As +she entered the great chamber, looking most lovely, notwithstanding her lack of +height, her grandfather came forward to meet her and present her to the guests, +who rose in greeting. One by one they bowed to her and one by one she searched +their faces with her eyes—faces for the most part stern and fierce. Now +all had passed and she sighed with relief, for among them there was no Caleb. +Even as she did so a curtain swung aside and Caleb entered. +</p> + +<p> +It was he, of that there could be no doubt; but oh! how changed since last she +had seen him two years before. Then he had been but a raw, passionate youth; +now he was a tall and splendid young man, very handsome in his dark fashion, +very powerful of frame also and quick of limb. His person was matched by his +attire, which was that of an Eastern warrior noble, and his mien was proud and +conquering. As he advanced the guests bowed to him in respect, as to a man of +great and assured position who may become greater still. Yes, even Benoni +showed him this respect, stepping forward to greet him. All these greetings +Caleb acknowledged lightly, even haughtily, till of a sudden he saw Miriam +standing somewhat in the shadow, and heedless of the other guests pushed his +way towards her. +</p> + +<p> +“Thus we meet again, Miriam,” he said, his proud face softening as +he spoke and his eyes gazing on her with a sort of rapture. “Are you +pleased to see me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Surely, Caleb,” she answered. “Who would not be well pleased +to meet the playfellow of her childhood?” +</p> + +<p> +He frowned, for childhood and its play were not in his thoughts. Before he +could speak again Benoni commanded the company to be seated, whereon Miriam +took her accustomed place as mistress of the house. +</p> + +<p> +To her surprise Caleb seated himself beside her on the couch that should have +been reserved for the oldest guest, who for some moments was left a wanderer +and wrathful, till Benoni, seeing what had passed, called him to his side. +Then, golden vessels of scented water having been handed by slaves to each +guest in turn, the feast began. As Miriam was about to dip her fingers in the +water she remembered the ring upon her left hand and turned the bezel inwards. +Caleb noted the action, but said nothing. +</p> + +<p> +“Whence come you, Caleb?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“From the wars, Miriam. We have thrown down the gate to Rome, and she has +picked it up.” +</p> + +<p> +She looked at him inquiringly and asked, “Was it wise?” +</p> + +<p> +“Who can tell?” he answered. “At least it is done. For my +part I hesitated long, but your grandfather won me over, so now I must follow +my fate.” +</p> + +<p> +Then he began to tell her of the taking of Masada and of the bloody struggles +of the factions in Jerusalem. +</p> + +<p> +After this he spoke of the Essenes, who still occupied their village, though in +fear, for all about them was much fighting; and of their childish days +together—talk which pleased her greatly. Whilst they spoke thus, a +messenger entered the room and whispered something into the ear of Benoni, who +raised his hands to Heaven as though in gratitude. +</p> + +<p> +“What tidings?” asked one. +</p> + +<p> +“This, my friends. Cestius Gallus the Roman has been hunted from the +walls of Jerusalem and his army is destroyed in the pass of Beth-horon.” +</p> + +<p> +“God be praised!” said the company as though with one voice. +</p> + +<p> +“God be praised,” repeated Caleb, “for so great and glorious +a victory! The accursed Romans are fallen indeed.” +</p> + +<p> +Only Miriam said nothing. +</p> + +<p> +“What is in your mind?” he asked looking at her. +</p> + +<p> +“That they will spring up again stronger than before,” she replied, +then at a signal from Benoni, rose and left the feast. +</p> + +<p> +From the supper chamber Miriam passed down a passage to the portico and there +seated herself, resting her arms upon the marble balustrade and listening to +the waves as they lapped against the walls below. +</p> + +<p> +That day had been disturbed, different, indeed, from all the peaceful days +which she was wont to spend. First had come the messenger bearing her +lover’s gifts and letter which already she longed to read again; then +hard upon his heels, like storm upon the sunshine, he who, unless she was +mistaken, still wished to be her lover—Caleb. How curious was the lot of +all three of them! How strangely had they been exalted! She, the orphan ward of +the Essenes, was now a great and wealthy lady with everything her heart could +desire—except one thing, indeed, which it desired most of all. And +Marcus, the debt-saddled Roman soldier of fortune, he also, it seemed, had +suddenly become great and wealthy, pomps that he held at the price of playing +some fool’s part in a temple to satisfy the whimsy of an Imperial madman. +</p> + +<p> +Caleb, too, had found fortune, and in these tumultuous times risen suddenly to +place and power. All three of them were seated upon pinnacles, but as Miriam +felt, they were pinnacles of snow, which for aught she knew, might be melted by +the very sun of their prosperity. She was young, she had little experience, yet +as Miriam sat there watching the changeful sea, there came upon her a great +sense of the instability of things, and an instinctive knowledge of their +vanity. The men who were great one day, whose names sounded in the mouths of +all, the next had vanished, disgraced or dead. Parties rose and parties fell, +high priest succeeded high priest, general supplanted general, yet upon each +and all of them, like the following waves that rolled beneath her, came dark +night and oblivion. A little dancing in the sunshine, a little moaning in the +shade, then death, and after death—— +</p> + +<p> +“What are you thinking of, Miriam?” said a rich voice at her elbow, +the voice of Caleb. +</p> + +<p> +She started, for here she believed herself alone, then answered: +</p> + +<p> +“My thoughts matter nothing. Why are you here? You should be with your +fellow——” +</p> + +<p> +“Conspirators. Why do you not say the word? Well, because sometimes one +wearies even of conspiracy. Just now we triumph and can take our ease. I wish +to make the most of it. What ring is that you wear upon your finger?” +</p> + +<p> +Miriam straightened herself and grew bold. +</p> + +<p> +“One which Marcus sent me,” she answered. +</p> + +<p> +“I guessed as much. I have heard of him; he has become a creature of the +mad Nero, the laughing-stock of Rome.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not laugh at him, Caleb.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, you were ever faithful. But, say, do you laugh at me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed not; why should I, since you seem to fill a great and dangerous +part with dignity?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Miriam, my part is both great and dangerous. I have risen high and +I mean to rise higher.” +</p> + +<p> +“How high?” +</p> + +<p> +“To the throne of Judæa.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think a cottage stool would be more safe, Caleb.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mayhap, but I do not like such seats. Listen, Miriam, I will be great or +die. I have thrown in my lot with the Jews, and when we have cast out the +Romans I shall rule.” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>If</i> you cast out the Romans, and <i>if</i> you live. Caleb, I have +no faith in the venture. We are old friends, and I pray of you to escape from +it while there is yet time.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, Miriam?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because He Whom your people crucified and Whom I serve prophesied its +end. The Romans will crush you, Caleb. His blood lies heavy upon the head of +the Jews, and the hour of payment is at hand.” +</p> + +<p> +Caleb thought a while, and when he spoke again the note of confidence had left +his voice. +</p> + +<p> +“It may be so, Miriam,” he said, “though I put no faith in +the sayings of your prophet; but at least I have taken my part and will see the +play through. Now for the second time I ask you to share its fortunes. I have +not changed my mind. As I loved you in childhood and as a youth, so I love you +as a man. I offer to you a great career. In the end I may fall, or I may +triumph, still either the fall or the triumph will be worth your sharing. A +throne, or a glorious grave—both are good; who can say which is the +better? Seek them with me, Miriam.” +</p> + +<p> +“Caleb, I cannot.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because it is laid upon me as a birthright, or a birth-duty, that I +should wed no man who is not a Christian. You know the story.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then if there were no such duty would you wed me, Miriam?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” she answered faintly. +</p> + +<p> +“Why not?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because I love another man whom also I am forbid to wed, and until death +I am pledged to him.” +</p> + +<p> +“The Roman, Marcus?” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye, the Roman Marcus. See, I wear his ring,” and she lifted her +hand, “and his gift is about my throat,” and she touched the +necklet of pearls. “Till death I am his and his alone. This I say, +because it is best for all of us that you should know the truth.” +</p> + +<p> +Caleb ground his teeth in bitter jealousy. +</p> + +<p> +“Then may death soon find him!” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“It would not help you, Caleb. Oh! why cannot we be friends as we were in +the old times!” +</p> + +<p> +“Because I seek more than friendship, and soon or late, in this way or in +that, I swear that I will have it.” +</p> + +<p> +As the words left his lips footsteps were heard, and Benoni appeared. +</p> + +<p> +“Friend Caleb,” he said, “we await you. Why, Miriam, what do +you here? To your chamber, girl. Affairs are afoot in which women should have +no part.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yet as I fear, grandfather, women will have to bear the burden,” +answered Miriam. Then, bowing to Caleb, she turned and left them. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap13"></a>CHAPTER XIII<br/> +WOE, WOE TO JERUSALEM</h2> + +<p> +Two more years went by, two dreadful, bloody years. In Jerusalem the factions +tore each other. In Galilee let the Jewish leader Josephus, under whom Caleb +was fighting, do what he would, Vespasian and his generals stormed city after +city, massacring their inhabitants by thousands and tens of thousands. In the +coast towns and elsewhere Syrians and Jews made war. The Jews assaulted Gadara +and Gaulonitis, Sebaste and Ascalon, Anthedon and Gaza, putting many to the +sword. Then came their own turn, for the Syrians and Greeks rose upon them and +slaughtered them without mercy. As yet, however, there had been no blood shed +in Tyre, though all knew that it must come. The Essenes, who had been driven +from their home by the Dead Sea and taken refuge in Jerusalem, sent messengers +to Miriam warning her to flee from Tyre, where a massacre was being planned; +warning her also not to come to Jerusalem, which city they believed to be +doomed, but to escape, if possible over sea. Nor was this all, for her own +people, the Christians, besought her to fly for her life’s sake with them +to the city of Pella, where they were gathering from Jerusalem and all Judæa. +To both Miriam answered that what her grandsire did, that she must do. If he +fled, she would fly; if he stayed at Tyre, she would stay; if he went to +Jerusalem, she would go; for he had been good to her and she had sworn that +while he lived she would not desert him. So the Essene messengers went back to +Jerusalem, and the Christian elders prayed with her, and having blessed her and +consigned her to the care of the Most High and His Son, their Lord, departed to +Pella, where, as it was fated, through all those dreadful times not a hair of +their heads was touched. +</p> + +<p> +When she had parted from them, Miriam sought out her grandfather, whom she +found pacing his chamber with a troubled air. +</p> + +<p> +“Why do you look so sad, Miriam?” he asked. “Have some of +your friends warned you that new sorrows are afoot?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, grandfather,” and she told him all. +</p> + +<p> +“I do not believe them,” he said passionately. “Say, do you? +Where is their authority? I tell you that we shall triumph. Vespasian is now +Emperor in Rome, and there will forget this little land; and the rest, those +enemies who are of our own house and those without it, we will conquer and +kill. The Messiah will come, the true Messiah. Many signs and wonders declare +that he is at hand. Ay! I myself have had a vision concerning him. He will +come, and he will conquer, and Jerusalem shall be great and free and see her +desire upon her enemies. I ask—where is your authority for these +croakings?” +</p> + +<p> +Miriam drew a roll from her robe and read: “But when ye see Jerusalem +compassed with armies, then know that her desolation is at hand. Then let them +which are in Judæa flee unto the mountains; and let them which are in the midst +of her depart out; and let not them that are in the country enter therein. For +these are days of vengeance, that all things that are written may be fulfilled. +Woe to them that are with child and to them that give suck in those days! for +there shall be great distress upon the land and wrath unto this people. And +they shall fall by the edge of the sword, and shall be led captive into all the +nations; and Jerusalem shall be trodden down of the Gentiles until the times of +the Gentiles be fulfilled.” +</p> + +<p> +Benoni listened patiently until she had done. Then he answered with contempt: +</p> + +<p> +“So says the book of your Law, but mine tells me otherwise. Well, child, +if you believe it and are afraid, begone with your friends, the Christians, and +leave me to meet this storm alone.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do believe it,” she answered quietly, “but I am not +afraid.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is strange,” he said, “since you must then believe also +that you will come to a cruel death, which has terrors for the young and +fair.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not so, grandfather, for this same writing promises that in these +troubles not one of us Christians shall perish. It is for you that I fear, not +for myself, who will go where you go, and bide where you bide. Therefore, once +more, and for the last time, I pray you to be wise and fly—who otherwise +must be slain”; and as Miriam said the words her blue eyes filled with +tears. +</p> + +<p> +Benoni looked at her and for a moment his courage was shaken. +</p> + +<p> +“Of your book I take no account,” he said, “but in the vision +of your pure spirit I am tempted to believe. Perhaps the things that you +foresee will happen, so, child, fly. You will not lack an escort and I can give +you treasure.” +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head. “I have said that I will not go without you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I fear that you here must bide, for I will not leave my wealth and +home, even to save my life, and still less will I desert my people in their +holy war. Only, Miriam, if things fall out ill for us, remember that I +entreated you to depart, and do not reproach me.” +</p> + +<p> +“That I shall never do,” she answered, smiling, and coming to the +old man kissed him tenderly. +</p> + +<p> +So they abode on in Tyre, and a week later the storm burst. +</p> + +<p> +For many days it had not been safe for Jews to show themselves in the streets +of the city, since several who crept out about their business, or to fetch +water or provisions, had been set upon and beaten to death by the mob, stirred +up to the work by Roman emissaries. This time Benoni had employed in putting +his house, which was part of an ancient fortress that had stood many a siege, +into a state of defence, and in supplying it with an ample store of victuals. +Also he sent messengers to Caleb, who was said to be in command of the Jewish +force at Joppa, telling him of their peril. Because it was so strong many of +the principal Jews in Tyre, to the number of over a hundred indeed, had flocked +into Benoni’s palace-fortress, together with their wives and children, +since there was no other place in their power in the town which could be so +easily defended. Lastly, in the outer courts and galleries were stationed fifty +or more faithful servants and slaves who understood the use of arms. +</p> + +<p> +Thus things remained, the Syrians threatening them through the gates or from +the windows of high houses, and no more, till one night Miriam was awakened by +a dreadful sound of screaming. She sprang from her bed and instantly Nehushta +was at her side. +</p> + +<p> +“What happens?” she gasped as she dressed herself hastily. +</p> + +<p> +“Those Syrian dogs attack the Jews,” answered Nehushta, “on +the mainland and in the lower city. Come to the roof, whence we can see what +passes,” and hand in hand they ran to the sea-portico and up its steep +steps. +</p> + +<p> +The dawn was just breaking, but looking from the walled roof they had no need +of its light, since everywhere in the dim city below and in Palætyrus on the +mainland, houses flared like gigantic torches. In their red glare they could +see the thousands of the attackers dragging out their inmates to death, or +thrusting them back into the flames, while the night was made horrible with the +shouts of the maddened mob, the cries of the victims and the crackling roar of +burning houses. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! Christ have mercy on them,” sobbed Miriam. +</p> + +<p> +“Why should He?” asked Nehushta. “They slew Him and rejected +Him; now they pay the price He prophesied. May He have mercy on us, His +servants.” +</p> + +<p> +“He would not have spoken thus,” said Miriam indignantly. +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, but justice speaks. Those who take the sword shall perish by the +sword. Even so have these Jews done to the Greeks and Syrians in many of the +cities—they who are blind and mad. Now it is their hour, and mayhap ours. +Come, lady, these are no sights for you, though you might do well to learn to +bear them, since if you escape you may see many such. Come, and if you wish we +will pray for these Jews, especially for their children, who are innocent, and +for ourselves.” +</p> + +<p> +That day at noon, most of the poorer and least protected Jews of the city +having been killed, the Syrians began their attack upon the fortified palace of +Benoni. Now it was that the defenders learned that they had to deal with no +mere rabble, but with savage hordes, many thousands strong, directed by +officers skilled in war. Indeed these men might be seen moving among them, and +from their armour and appearance it was easy to guess that they were Romans. +This, in fact, was the case, since Gessius Florus, the wicked, and after him +other officers, made it part of their policy to send Romans to stir up the +Syrians against the Jews and to assist them in their slaughter. +</p> + +<p> +First an attack was made upon the main gates, but when it was found that these +were too strong to be taken easily, the assailants retreated with a loss of a +score of men shot by the defenders from the wall. Then other tactics were +adopted, for the Syrians, possessing themselves of the neighbouring houses, +began to gall the garrison with arrows from the windows. Thus they drove them +under cover, but did little more, since the palace was all of marble with +cemented roofs, and could not be fired with the burning shafts they sent down +upon it. +</p> + +<p> +So the first day passed, and during the night no attack was made upon them. +When dawn came they learned the reason, for there opposite to the gates was +reared a great battering-ram; moreover, out at sea a huge galley was being +rowed in as close to their walls as the depth of water would allow, that from +her decks the sailors might hurl stones and siege arrows by means of catapults +and thus break down their defences and destroy them. +</p> + +<p> +Then it was that the real fight began. The Jews posted on the roof of the house +poured arrows on the men who strove to work the ram, and killed many of them, +till they were able to push the instrument so close that it could no longer be +commanded. Now it got to work and with three blows of the great baulk of +timber, of which the ram was fashioned, burst in the gates. Thereon the +defenders, headed by old Benoni himself, rushed out and put those who served it +to the sword; then before they could be overcome, retreated across the ditch to +the inner wall, breaking down the wooden bridge behind them. Now, since the ram +was of no further use, as it could not be dragged through the ditch, the +galley, that was anchored within a hundred paces, began to hurl huge stones and +arrows at them, knocking down the walls and killing several, including two +women and three children. +</p> + +<p> +Thus matters went on till noon, the besiegers galling them with their arrows +from the land side and the galley battering them from the sea, while they could +do little or nothing in return, having no engines. Benoni called a council and +set out the case, which was desperate enough. It was evident, he said, that +they could not hold out another day, since at nightfall the Syrians would cross +the narrow protecting ditch and set up a battering-ram against the inner wall. +Therefore, they must do one of two things—sally out and attempt to cut +their way through and gain open country, or fight on and at the last kill the +women and children and rush out, those that were left of them, to be hacked +down by the besieging thousands. As the first plan gave no hope, since, +cumbered as they were with helpless people, they could not expect to escape the +city, in their despair they decided on the second. All must die, therefore they +would perish by each other’s hands. When this decision was known, a wail +went up from the women and the children began to scream with fright, those of +them who were old enough to understand their doom. +</p> + +<p> +Nehushta caught Miriam by the arm. +</p> + +<p> +“Come to the highest roof,” she said; “it is safe from the +stones and arrows, and thence, if need be, we can hurl ourselves into the water +and die an easy death.” +</p> + +<p> +So they went and crouched there, praying, for their case was desperate. +Suddenly Nehushta touched Miriam and pointed to the sea. She looked and saw +another galley approaching fast as oars and sails could bring her. +</p> + +<p> +“What of it?” she asked heavily. “It will but hasten the +end.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay,” replied Nehushta, “this ship is Jewish; she does not +fly the Eagles, or a Phœnician banner. Behold! the Syrian vessel is getting up +her anchors and preparing for fight.” +</p> + +<p> +It was true enough, for now the oars of the Syrian shot out and she forged +ahead towards the newcomer. But just then the current caught her, laying her +broadside on, whereon the Jewish ship, driven by the following wind, shifted +her helm and, amidst a mighty shouting from sea and shore, drove down upon her, +striking her amidships with its beak so that she heeled over. Then there was +more tumult, and Miriam closed her eyes to shut out the horrid sight. +</p> + +<p> +When she opened them again the Syrian galley had vanished, only the water was +spotted with black dots which were the heads of men. +</p> + +<p> +“Gallantly done!” screamed Nehushta. “See, she anchors and +puts out her boats; they will save us yet. Down to the water-gate!” +</p> + +<p> +On their way they met Benoni coming to seek them, and with him won the steps +which were already crowded with fugitives. The two boats of the galley drew +near and in the bow of the first of them stood a tall and noble-looking figure. +</p> + +<p> +“It is Caleb,” said Miriam, “Caleb who has come to save +us.” +</p> + +<p> +Caleb it was indeed. At a distance of ten paces from the steps he halted his +boat and called aloud: +</p> + +<p> +“Benoni, Lady Miriam and Nehushta, if you still live, stand +forward.” +</p> + +<p> +They stood forward. +</p> + +<p> +“Now wade into the sea,” he cried again, and they waded out until +the water reached their armpits, when they were seized one by one and dragged +into the boat. Many followed them and were also dragged in, until that boat and +the other were quite full, whereon they turned and were rowed to the galley. +Having embarked them, the two boats went back and again were filled with +fugitives, for the most part women and children. +</p> + +<p> +Again they went, but as they laded for the third time, the ends of ladders +appeared above the encircling walls of the steps, and Syrians could be seen +rushing out upon the portico, whence they began to lower themselves with ropes. +The end of that scene was dreadful. The boats were full, till the water indeed +began to overflow their gunwales, but many still remained upon the steps or +rushed into the water, women screaming and holding their children above their +heads, and men thrusting them aside in the mad rush for life. The boats rowed +off, some who could swim following them. For the rest, their end was the sword. +In all, seventy souls were rescued. +</p> + +<p> +Miriam flung herself downwards upon the deck of the galley and burst into +tears, crying out: +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! save them! Can no one save them?” while Benoni seated at her +side, the water running from his blood-stained garment, moaned: +</p> + +<p> +“My house sacked; my wealth taken; my people slain by the +Gentiles!” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank God Who has saved us,” broke in old Nehushta, “God and +Caleb; and as for you, master, blame yourself. Did not we Christians warn you +of what was to come? Well, as it has been in the beginning, so it shall be in +the end.” +</p> + +<p> +Just then Caleb appeared before them, proud and flushed with triumph, as he +well might be who had done great things and saved Miriam from the sword. Benoni +rose and, casting his arms about his neck, embraced him. +</p> + +<p> +“Behold your deliverer!” he said to Miriam, and stooping down, he +drew her to her feet. +</p> + +<p> +“I thank you, Caleb. I can say no more,” she murmured; but in her +heart she knew that God had delivered her and that Caleb was but His +instrument. +</p> + +<p> +“I am well repaid,” answered Caleb gravely. “For me this has +been a fortunate day, who on it have sunk the great Syrian galley and rescued +the woman—whom I love.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oath or no oath,” broke in Benoni, bethinking him of what he had +promised in the past, “the life you saved is yours, and if I have my way +you shall take her and such of her heritage as remains.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is this a time to speak of such things?” said Miriam, looking up. +“See yonder,” and she pointed to the scene in progress on the +seashore. “They drive our friends and servants into the sea and drown +them,” and once more she began to weep. +</p> + +<p> +Caleb sighed. “Cease from useless tears, Miriam. We have done our best +and it is the fortune of war. I dare not send out the boats again even if the +mariners would listen to my command. Nehushta, lead your lady to the cabin and +strip her of these wet garments lest she take cold in this bitter wind. But +first, Benoni, what is your mind?” +</p> + +<p> +“To go to my cousin Mathias, the high priest at Jerusalem,” +answered the old man, “who has promised to give me shelter if in these +days any can be found.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay,” broke in Nehushta, “sail for Egypt.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where also they massacre the Jews by thousands till the streets of +Alexandria run with their blood,” replied Caleb with sarcasm; adding, +“Well, to Egypt I cannot take you who must bring this ship to those who +await her on this side of Joppa, whence I am summoned to Jerusalem.” +</p> + +<p> +“Whither and nowhere else I will go,” said Benoni, “to share +in my nation’s death or triumph. If Miriam wills it, I have told her she +can leave me.” +</p> + +<p> +“What I have said before I say again,” replied Miriam, “that +I will never do.” +</p> + +<p> +Then Nehushta took her to the cabin, and presently the oars began to beat and +the great galley stood out of the harbour, till in the silence of the sea the +screams of the victims and the shouts of the victors died away, and as night +fell naught could be seen of Tyre but the flare from the burning houses of the +slaughtered Jews. +</p> + +<p> +Save for the sobs and cries of the fugitives who had lost their friends and +goods the night passed in quiet, since, although it was winter, the sea was +calm and none pursued their ship. At daybreak she anchored, and coming from the +cabin with Nehushta, in the light of the rising sun Miriam saw before her a +ridge of rocks over which the water poured, and beyond it a little bay backed +by a desolate coast. Nehushta also saw and sighed. +</p> + +<p> +“What is this place?” asked Miriam. +</p> + +<p> +“Lady, it is the spot where you were born. On yonder flat rock lay the +vessel, and there I burned her many years ago. See those blackened timbers half +buried in the sand upon the beach; doubtless they are her ribs.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is strange that I should return hither, and thus, Nou,” said +Miriam sighing. +</p> + +<p> +“Strange, indeed, but mayhap there is a meaning in it. Before you came in +storm to grow to womanhood in peace; now, perchance, you come on a peaceful sea +to pass through womanhood in storm.” +</p> + +<p> +“Both journeys began with death, Nou.” +</p> + +<p> +“As all journeys end. Blackness behind and blackness in front, and +between them a space of sunshine and shadow—that is the law. Yet have no +fear, for dead Anna, who had the gift of prophecy, foretold that you should +live out your life, though with me, whose days are almost done, it may be +otherwise.” +</p> + +<p> +Miriam’s face grew troubled. +</p> + +<p> +“I fear neither life nor death, Nou, who am willing to meet either as may +chance. But to part with you—ah! that thought makes me fear.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think that it will not be yet awhile,” said Nehushta, “for +although I am old, I still have work to do before I lay me down and sleep. +Come, Caleb calls us. We are to disembark while the weather holds.” +</p> + +<p> +So Miriam entered the boat with her grandfather and others who had escaped, for +the faces of all of them were set towards Jerusalem, and was rowed to the shore +over that very rock where first she drew her breath. Here they found Jews who +had been watching for the coming of the galley. These men gave them a kind +reception, and, what they needed even more, food, fire and some beasts of +burden for their journey. +</p> + +<p> +When all were gathered on the beach Caleb joined them, having handed over the +galley to another Jew, who was to depart in her with those that waited on the +shore, upon some secret mission of intercepting Roman corn-ships. When these +men heard what he had done at Tyre, at first they were inclined to be angry, +since they said that he had no authority to risk the vessel thus, but +afterwards, seeing that he had succeeded, and with no loss of men, praised him +and said that it was a very great deed. +</p> + +<p> +So the galley put about and sailed away, and they, to the number of some sixty +souls, began their journey to Jerusalem. A little while later they came to a +village, the same where Nehushta had found the peasant and his wife, whose +inhabitants, at the sight of them, fled, thinking that they were one of the +companies of robbers that hunted the land in packs, like wolves, plundering or +murdering all they met. When they learnt the truth, however, these people +returned and heard their story in silence, for in those days such tales were +common enough. As it came to an end a withered, sunburned woman advanced to +Nehushta, and, laying one hand upon her arm, pointed with the other at Miriam, +saying: +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me, friend, is that the babe I suckled?” +</p> + +<p> +Then Nehushta, knowing her to be the nurse who had travelled with them to the +village of the Essenes, greeted her, and answered “Yea,” whereupon +the woman cast her arms about Miriam and embraced her. +</p> + +<p> +“Day by day,” she said, “have I thought of you, little one, +and now that my eyes have seen you grown so sweet and fair, I care not—I +whose husband is dead and who have no children—how soon they close upon +the world.” Then she blessed her, and called upon her angel to protect +her yonder in Jerusalem, and found her food and an ass to ride; and so they +parted, to meet no more. +</p> + +<p> +As it happened, they were fortunate upon that journey, since, with the armed +guard of twenty men who accompanied Caleb, they were too strong a party to be +attacked by the wandering bands of thieves, and, although it was reported that +Titus and his army had already reached Cæsarea from Egypt, they met no Romans. +Indeed, their only enemy was the cold, which proved so bitter that when, on the +second night, they camped upon the heights over against Jerusalem, having no +tents and fearing to light fires, they were obliged to walk about till daylight +to keep their blood astir. Then it was that they saw strange and terrible +things. +</p> + +<p> +In the clear sky over Jerusalem blazed a great comet, in appearance like a +sword of fire. It was true that they had seen it before at Tyre, but never +before had it shown so bright. Moreover, there it had not the appearance of a +sword. This they thought to be an ill omen, all of them except Benoni, who said +that the point of the sword stretched out over Cæsarea, presaging the +destruction of the Romans by the hand of God. Towards dawn, the pale, unnatural +lustre of the comet faded, and the sky grew overcast and stormy. At length the +sun came up, when, to their marvelling eyes, the fiery clouds took strange +shapes. +</p> + +<p> +“Look, look!” said Miriam, grasping her grandfather by the arm, +“there are armies in the heavens, and they fight together.” +</p> + +<p> +They looked, and, sure enough, it seemed as though two great hosts were there +embattled. They could discern the legions, the wind-blown standards, the +charging chariots, and the squadrons of impetuous horse. The firmament had +become a battle-ground, and lo! it was red as with the blood of the fallen, +while the air was full of strange and dreadful sounds, bred, perhaps, of wind +and distant thunder, that came to them like the wail of the vanquished and the +dull roar of triumphant armies. So terrified were they at the sight, that they +crouched upon the ground and hid their faces in their hands. Only old Benoni +standing up, his white beard and robes stained red by the ominous light, cried +out that this celestial scene foretold the destruction of the enemies of God. +</p> + +<p> +“Ay!” said Nehushta, “but which enemies?” +</p> + +<p> +The tall Caleb, marching on his round of the camp, echoed: +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, which enemies?” +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly the light grew, all these fantastic shapes melted into a red haze, +which sank down till Jerusalem before them seemed as though she floated in an +ocean of blood and fire. Then a dark cloud came up and for a while the holy +Hill of Zion vanished utterly away. It passed, the blue sky reappeared, and lo! +the clear light streamed upon her marble palaces and clustered houses, and was +reflected from the golden roofs of the Temple. So calm and peaceful did the +glorious city look that none would have deemed indeed that she was already +nothing but a slaughter-house, where factions fought furiously, and day by day +hundreds of Jews perished beneath the knives of their own brethren. +</p> + +<p> +Caleb gave the word to break their camp, and with bodies shivering in the cold +and spirits terrified by fear, they marched across the rugged hills towards the +Joppa gate, noting as they passed into the valley that the country had been +desolated, for but little corn sprang in the fields, and that was trodden down, +while of flocks and herds they saw none. Reaching the gate they found it shut, +and there were challenged by soldiers, wild-looking men with ferocious faces of +the army of Simon of Gerasa that held the Lower City. +</p> + +<p> +“Who are you and what is your business?” these asked. +</p> + +<p> +Caleb set out his rank and titles, and as these did not seem to satisfy them +Benoni explained that the rest of them were fugitives from Tyre, where there +had been a great slaughter of the Jews. +</p> + +<p> +“Fugitives always have money; best kill them,” said the captain of +the gate. “Doubtless they are traitors and deserve to die.” +</p> + +<p> +Caleb grew angry and commanded them to open, asking by what right they dared to +exclude him, a high officer who had done great service in the wars. +</p> + +<p> +“By the right of the strong,” they answered. “Those who let +in Simon have to deal with Simon. If you are of the party of John or of Eleazer +go to the Temple and knock upon its doors,” and they pointed mockingly to +the gleaming gates above. +</p> + +<p> +“Has it come to this, then,” asked Benoni, “that Jew eats Jew +in Jerusalem, while the Roman wolves raven round the walls? Man, we are of no +party, although, as I think, my name is known and honoured by all +parties—the name of Benoni of Tyre. I demand to be led, not to Simon, or +to John, or to Eleazer, but to my cousin, Mathias, the high priest, who bids us +here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mathias, the high priest,” said the captain; “that is +another matter. Well, this Mathias let us into the city, where we have found +good quarters, and good plunder; so as one turn deserves another, we may as +well let in his friends. Pass, cousin of Mathias the high priest, with all your +company,” and he opened the gate. +</p> + +<p> +They entered and marched up the narrow streets towards the Temple. It was the +hour of the day when all men should be stirring and busy with their work, but +lo! the place was desolate—yes, although so crowded, it still was +desolate. On the pavement lay bodies of men and women slain in some midnight +outrage. From behind the lattices of the windows they caught sight of the eyes +of hundreds peeping at them, but none gave them a good-morrow, or said one +single word. The silence of death seemed to brood upon the empty thoroughfares. +Presently it was broken by a single wailing voice that reached their ears from +so far away that they could not catch its meaning. Nearer and nearer it came, +till at length in the dark and narrow street they caught sight of a thin, +white-bearded figure, naked to the waist as though to show the hideous scars +and rod-weals with which its back and breast were scored, still festering, some +of them. This was the man who uttered the cries, and these were the words he +spoke: +</p> + +<p> +“A voice from the East! a voice from the West! a voice from the four +Winds! a voice against Jerusalem and against the Temple! a voice against the +bridegrooms and the brides! a voice against the whole people! Woe, woe to +Jerusalem!” +</p> + +<p> +Now he was upon them, yes, and marching through them as though he saw them not, +although they shrank to one side and the other of the narrow street to avoid +the touch of this ominous, unclean creature who scarcely seemed to be a man. +</p> + +<p> +“Fellow, what do these words mean?” cried Benoni in angry fear. +But, taking no heed, his pale eyes fixed upon the heavens, the wanderer +answered only, “Woe, woe to Jerusalem! Woe to you who come up to +Jerusalem!” +</p> + +<p> +So he passed on, still uttering those awful words, till at length they lost +sight of his naked form and the sound of his crying grew faint and died away. +</p> + +<p> +“What a fearful greeting is this!” said Miriam, wringing her hands. +</p> + +<p> +“Ay!” answered Nehushta, “but the farewell will be worse. The +place is doomed and all in it.” +</p> + +<p> +Only Caleb said, striving to look unconcerned: +</p> + +<p> +“Have no fear, Miriam. I know the man. He is mad.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where does wisdom end and madness begin?” asked Nehushta. +</p> + +<p> +Then they went on towards the gates of the Temple, always through the same +blood-stained, empty streets. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap14"></a>CHAPTER XIV<br/> +THE ESSENES FIND THEIR QUEEN AGAIN</h2> + +<p> +They went on towards the gates of the Temple, but many a long day was destined +to go by ere Miriam reached them. The entrance by which they were told they +must approach if they sought speech of the high priest, was one of the two +Huldah Gates on the south side of the Royal Cloister, and thither they came +across the valley of Tyropæon. As they drew near to them of a sudden that gate +which stood most to the east was flung wide, and out of it issued a thousand or +more of armed men, like ants from a broken nest, who, shouting and waving +swords, rushed towards their company. As it chanced, at the moment they were in +the centre of an open space that once had been covered with houses but was now +cumbered with hundreds of blackened and tottering walls, for fire had devoured +them. +</p> + +<p> +“It is the men of John who attack us,” cried a voice, whereon, +moved by a common impulse, the little band turned and fled for shelter among +the ruined houses; yes, even Caleb and Benoni fled. +</p> + +<p> +Before they reached them, lo! from these crumbling walls that they had thought +untenanted save by wandering dogs, out rushed another body of savage warriors, +the men of Simon who held the Lower City. +</p> + +<p> +After this, Miriam knew little of what happened. Swords and spears flashed +round her, the factions fell upon each other, slaughtering each other. She saw +Caleb cut down one of the soldiers of John, to be instantly assaulted in turn +by a soldier of Simon, since all desired to kill, but none cared whom they +slew. She saw her grandfather rolling over and over on the ground in the grip +of a man who looked like a priest; she saw women and children pierced with +spears. Then Nehushta seized her by the hand, and plunging a knife into the arm +of a man who would have stayed them, dragged her away. They fled, an arrow sang +past her ear; something struck her on the foot. Still they fled, whither she +knew not, till at length the sound of the tumult died away. But not yet would +Nehushta stop, for she feared that they might be followed. So on they went, and +on, meeting few and heeded by none, till at length Miriam sank to the ground, +worn out with fear and flight. +</p> + +<p> +“Up,” said Nehushta. +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot,” she answered. “Something has hurt my foot. See, +it bleeds!” +</p> + +<p> +Nehushta looked about her, and saw that they were outside the second wall in +the new city of Bezetha, not far from the old Damascus Gate, for there, to +their right and a little behind them, rose the great tower of Antonia. Beneath +this wall were rubbish-heaps, foul-smelling and covered over with rough grasses +and some spring flowers, which grew upon the slopes of the ancient fosse. Here +seemed a place where they might lie hid awhile, since there were no houses and +it was unsavoury. She dragged Miriam to her feet, and, notwithstanding her +complaints and swollen ankle, forced her on, till they came to a spot where, as +it is to-day, the wall was built upon foundations of living rock, roughly +shaped, and lined with crevices covered by tall weeds. To one of these crevices +Nehushta brought Miriam, and, seating her on a bed of grass, examined her foot, +which seemed to have been bruised by a stone from a sling. Having no water with +which to wash the bleeding hurt, she made a poultice of crushed herbs and tied +it about the ankle with a strip of linen. Even before she had finished her +task, so exhausted was Miriam that she fell fast asleep. Nehushta watched her a +while, wondering what they should do next, till, in that lonely place bathed by +the warm spring sun, she also began to doze. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly she awoke with a start, having dreamed that she saw a man with white +face and beard peering at them from behind a rough angle of rock. She stared: +there was the rock as she had dreamed of it, but no man. She looked upward. +Above them, piled block upon gigantic block, rose the wall, towering and +impregnable. Thither he could not have gone, since on it only a lizard could +find foothold. Nor was he anywhere else, for there was no cover; so she decided +that he must have been some searcher of the rubbish-heap, who, seeing them +hidden in the tall grasses, had fled away. Miriam was still sound asleep, and +in her weariness presently Nehushta again began to doze, till at +length—it may have been one hour later, or two or three, she knew +not—some sound disturbed her. Opening her eyes, once more behind that +ridge of rock she saw, not one white-bearded face, but two, staring at her and +Miriam. As she sat up they vanished. She remained still, pretending to sleep, +and again they appeared, scanning her closely and whispering to each other in +eager tones. Suddenly one of the faces turned a little so that the light fell +on it. Now Nehushta knew why in her dream it had seemed familiar, and in her +heart thanked God. +</p> + +<p> +“Brother Ithiel,” she said in a quiet voice, “why do you hide +like a coney in these rocks?” +</p> + +<p> +Both heads disappeared, but the sound of whispering continued. Then one of them +rose again among the green grasses as a man might rise out of water. It was +Ithiel’s. +</p> + +<p> +“It is indeed you, Nehushta?” said his well-remembered voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Who else?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“And that lady who sleeps at your side?” +</p> + +<p> +“Once they called her Queen of the Essenes; now she is a hunted fugitive, +waiting to be massacred by Simon, or John, or Eleazer, or Zealots, or Sicarii, +or any other of the holy cut-throats who inhabit this Holy City,” +answered Nehushta bitterly. +</p> + +<p> +Ithiel raised his hands as though in thankfulness, then said: +</p> + +<p> +“Hush! hush! Here the very birds are spies. Brother, creep to that rock +and look if any men are moving.” +</p> + +<p> +The Essene obeyed, and answered, “None; and they cannot see us from the +wall.” +</p> + +<p> +Ithiel motioned to him to return. +</p> + +<p> +“Does she sleep sound?” he asked of Nehushta, pointing to Miriam. +</p> + +<p> +“Like the dead.” +</p> + +<p> +Then, after another whispered conference, the pair of them crept round the +angle of the rock. Bidding Nehushta follow them, they lifted the sleeping +Miriam, and carried her between them through a dense growth of shrubs to +another rock. Here they moved some grass and pushed aside a stone, revealing a +hole not much larger than a jackal would make. Into this the brother entered, +heels first. Then Nehushta, by his directions, taking the feet of the senseless +Miriam, with her help he bore her into the hole, that opened presently into a +wide passage. Last of all Ithiel, having lifted the grasses which their feet +had trodden, followed them, pulling the stone back to its place, and cutting +off the light. Once more they were in darkness, but this did not seem to +trouble the brethren, for again lifting Miriam, they went forward a distance of +thirty or forty paces, Nehushta holding on to Ithiel’s robe. Now, at +length, the cold air of this cave, or perhaps its deep gloom and the motion, +awoke Miriam from her swoon-like sleep. She struggled in their hands, and would +have cried out, had not Nehushta bade her to be silent. +</p> + +<p> +“Where am I?” she said. “Is this the hall of death?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, lady. Wait a while, all shall be explained.” +</p> + +<p> +While she spoke and Miriam clung to her affrighted, Ithiel struck iron and +flint together. Catching the spark upon tinder he blew it to a flame and +lighted a taper which burnt up slowly, causing his white beard and face to +appear by degrees out of the darkness, like that of a ghost rising from the +tomb. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! surely I am dead,” said Miriam, “for before me stands +the spirit of my uncle Ithiel.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not the spirit, Miriam, but the flesh,” answered the old man in a +voice that trembled with joy. Then, since he could restrain himself no longer, +he gave the taper to the brother, and, taking her in his arms, kissed her again +and again. +</p> + +<p> +“Welcome, most dear child,” he said; “yes, even to this +darksome den, welcome, thrice welcome, and blessed be the eternal God Who led +our feet forth to find you. Nay, do not stop to talk, we are still too near the +wall. Give me your hand and come.” +</p> + +<p> +Miriam glanced up as she obeyed, and by the feeble light of the taper saw a +vast rocky roof arching above them. On either side of her also were walls of +rough-hewn rock down which dripped water, and piled upon the floor or still +hanging half-cut from the roof, boulders large enough to fashion a temple +column. +</p> + +<p> +“What awful place is this, my uncle?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“The cavern whence Solomon, the great king, drew stone for the building +of the Temple. Look, here are his mason’s marks upon the wall. Here he +fashioned the blocks and thus it happened that no sound of saw or hammer was +heard within the building. Doubtless also other kings before and since his day +have used this quarry, as no man knows its age.” +</p> + +<p> +While he spoke thus he was leading her onwards over the rough, stone-hewn +floor, where the damp gathered in little pools. Following the windings of the +cave they turned once, then again and yet again, so that soon Miriam was +utterly bewildered and could not have found her way back to the entrance for +her life’s sake. Moreover, the air had become so hot and stifling that +she could scarcely breathe. +</p> + +<p> +“It will be better presently,” said Ithiel, noticing her distress, +as he drew her limping after him into what seemed to be a natural crevice of +rock hardly large enough to allow the passage of his body. Along this crevice +they scrambled for eight or ten paces, to find themselves suddenly in a tunnel +lined with masonry, and so large that they could stand upright. +</p> + +<p> +“Once it was a watercourse,” explained Ithiel, “that filled +the great tank, but now it has been dry for centuries.” +</p> + +<p> +Down this darksome shaft hobbled Miriam, till presently it ended in a wall, or +what seemed to be a wall—for when Ithiel pressed upon a stone it turned. +Beyond it the tunnel continued for twenty or thirty paces, leading them at +length into a vast chamber with arched roof and cemented sides and bottom, +which in some bygone age had been a water-tank. Here lights were burning, and +even a charcoal fire, at which a brother was engaged in cooking. Also the air +was pure and sweet, doubtless because of the winding water-channels that ran +upwards. Nor did the place lack inhabitants, for there, seated in groups round +the tapers, or watching the cooking over the charcoal fire, were forty or fifty +men, still clad, for the most part, in the robes of the Essenes. +</p> + +<p> +“Brethren,” cried Ithiel, in answer to the challenge of one who was +set to watch the entry, “I bring back to you her whom we lost a while +ago, the lady Miriam.” +</p> + +<p> +They heard, and seizing the tapers, ran forward. +</p> + +<p> +“It is she!” they cried, “our queen and none other, and with +her Nehushta the Libyan! Welcome, welcome, a thousand times, dear lady!” +</p> + +<p> +Miriam greeted them one and all, and before these greetings were finished they +brought her food to eat, rough but wholesome, also good wine and sweet water. +Then while she ate she heard all their story. It seemed that more than a year +ago the Romans, marching on Jericho, had fallen upon their village and put a +number of them to death, seizing others as slaves. Thereon the remnant fled to +Jerusalem, where many more perished, for, being peaceable folk, all the +factions robbed and slew them. Seeing, at last, that to live at large in the +city would be to doom themselves to extinction, and yet not daring to leave it, +they sought a refuge in this underground place, of which, as it chanced, one of +their brethren had the secret. This he had inherited from his father, so that +it was known to no other living man. +</p> + +<p> +Here by degrees they laid up a great store of provisions of all sorts, of +charcoal for burning, and other necessaries, carrying into the place also +clothes, bedding, cooking utensils and even some rough furniture. These +preparations being made, the fifty of them who remained removed themselves to +the vaults where now they had already dwelt three months, and here, so far as +was possible, continued to practise the rules of their order. Miriam asked how +they kept their health in this darkness, to which they replied that sometimes +they went out by that path which she had just followed, and mingled with the +people in the city, returning to their hole at night. Ithiel and his companion +were on such a journey when they found her. Also they had another passage to +the upper air which they would show her later. +</p> + +<p> +When Miriam had finished eating, dressed her hurt, and rested a while, they +took her to explore the wonders of the place. Beyond this great cistern, that +was their common room, lay more to the number of six or seven, one of the +smallest of which was given to Nehushta and herself to dwell in. Others were +filled with stores enough to last them all for months. Last of all was a cave, +not very large, but deep, which always held sweet water. Doubtless there was a +spring at the bottom of it, which, when the other rain-fed tanks grew dry, +still kept it supplied. From this cistern that had been used for generations +after the others were abandoned, a little stair ran upwards, worn smooth by the +feet of folk long dead, who had come hither to draw water. +</p> + +<p> +“Where does it lead?” asked Miriam. +</p> + +<p> +“To the ruined tower above,” answered Ithiel. “Nay, another +time I will show you. Now your place is made ready for you, go, let Nehushta +bathe your foot, and sleep, for you must need it sorely.” +</p> + +<p> +So Miriam went and laid herself down to rest in the little cemented vault which +was to be her home for four long months; and being worn out, notwithstanding +the sufferings she had passed and her fears for her grandfather, slept there as +soundly as ever she had done in her wind-swept chamber at the palace of Tyre, +or in her house at the village of the Essenes. +</p> + +<p> +When she awoke and saw the darkness all about her, she thought that it must be +night; then remembering that in this place it was always night, called to +Nehushta, who uncovered the little lamp that burned in a corner of the vault, +and went out, to return presently with the news that according to the Essenes, +it was day. So she rose and put on her robes, and they passed together into the +great chamber. Here they found the Essenes at prayer and making their +reverences to the sun which they could not see, after which they ate their +morning meal. Now Miriam spoke to Ithiel, telling him of her trouble about her +grandfather, who, if he himself still lived, would think that she was dead. +</p> + +<p> +“One thing is certain,” replied her great-uncle: “that you +shall not go out to seek him, nor must you tell him of your hiding-place, since +soon or late this might mean that all of us would be destroyed, if only for the +sake of the food which we have hoarded.” +</p> + +<p> +Miriam asked if she could not send a message. He answered: +</p> + +<p> +“No, since none would dare to take it.” In the end, however, after +she had pleaded with him long and earnestly, it was agreed that she should +write the words, “I am safe and well, but in a place that I must not tell +you of,” and sign her name upon a piece of parchment. This letter Ithiel, +who purposed to creep out into the city that evening disguised as a beggar, to +seek for tidings, said he would take, and, if might be, bribe some soldier to +deliver it to Benoni at the house of the high priest, if he were there. +</p> + +<p> +So Miriam wrote the letter, and at nightfall Ithiel and another brother +departed, taking it with them. +</p> + +<p> +On the following morning they returned, safe, but with a dreadful tale of the +slaughters in the city and in the Temple courts, where the mad factions still +fought furiously. +</p> + +<p> +“Your tidings, my uncle?” said Miriam, rising to meet him. +“Does he still live?” +</p> + +<p> +“Be of good comfort,” he answered. “Benoni reached the house +of Mathias in safety, and Caleb also, and now they are sheltering within the +Temple walls. This much I had from one of the high priest’s guards, who, +for the price of a piece of gold I gave him, swore that he would deliver the +letter without fail. But, child, I will take no more, for that soldier eyed me +curiously and said it was scarcely safe for beggars to carry gold.” +</p> + +<p> +Miriam thanked him for his goodness and his news, saying that they lifted a +weight from her heart. +</p> + +<p> +“I have other tidings that may perhaps make it lighter still,” went +on the old man, looking at her sideways. “Titus with a mighty host draws +near to Jerusalem from Cæsarea.” +</p> + +<p> +“There is no joy in that tale,” replied Miriam, “for it means +that the Holy City will be besieged and taken.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, but among that host is one who, if all the stories are true,” +and again he glanced at her face, “would rather take you than the +city.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who?” she said, pressing her hands against her heart and turning +redder than the lamplight. +</p> + +<p> +“One of Titus’ prefects of horse, the noble Roman, Marcus, whom in +byegone days you knew by the banks of Jordan.” +</p> + +<p> +Now the red blood fled back to Miriam’s heart, and she turned so faint +that had not the wall been near at hand she would have fallen. +</p> + +<p> +“Marcus?” she said. “Well, he swore that he would come, yet +it will bring him little nearer me;” and she turned and sought her +chamber. +</p> + +<p> +So Marcus had come. Since he sent the letter and the ring that was upon her +hand, and the pearls which were about her throat, she had heard no more of him. +Twice she had written and forwarded the writings by the most trusty messenger +whom she could find, but whether they reached him she did not know. For more +than two years the silence between them had been that of death, till, indeed, +at times she thought that he must be dead. And now he was come back, a +commander in the army of Titus, who marched to punish the rebellious Jews. +Would she ever see him again? Miriam could not tell. Yet she knelt and prayed +from her pure heart that if it were once only, she might speak with him face to +face. Indeed, it was this hope of meeting that, more than any other, supported +her through all those dreadful days. +</p> + +<p> +A week went by, and although the hurt to her foot had healed, like some flower +in the dark Miriam drooped and languished in those gloomy vaults. Twice she +prayed her uncle to be allowed to creep to the mouth of the hole behind the +ridge of rock, there to breathe the fresh air and see the blessed sky. But this +he would not suffer. The thing was too dangerous, he said; for although none +knew the secret of their hiding-place, already two or three fugitives had found +their way into the quarries by other entrances, and these it was very difficult +to pass unseen. +</p> + +<p> +“So be it,” answered Miriam, and crept back to her cell. +</p> + +<p> +Nehushta looked after her anxiously, then said: +</p> + +<p> +“If she cannot have air I think that she will soon die. Is there no +way?” +</p> + +<p> +“One,” answered Ithiel, “but I fear to take it. The staircase +from the spring leads to an ancient tower that, I am told, once was a palace of +the kings, but now for these many years has been deserted, for its entrance is +bricked up lest thieves should make it their home. None can come into that +tower, nor is it used for purposes of war, not standing upon any wall, and +there she might sit at peace and see the sun; yet I fear to let her do +so.” +</p> + +<p> +“It must be risked,” answered Nehushta. “Take me to visit +this place.” +</p> + +<p> +So Ithiel led her to the cistern, and from the cistern up a flight of steps to +a little vaulted chamber, into which they entered through a stone trap-door, +made of the same substance as the paving of the chamber, so that, when it was +closed, none would guess that there was a passage beneath. From this old +store-room, for such it doubtless was, ran more steps, ending, to all +appearance, in a blank wall. Coming to it, Ithiel thrust a piece of flat iron, +a foot or more in length, into a crack in this wall, lifted some stone latch +within, and pushed, whereon a block of masonry of something more than the +height and width of a man, and quite a yard in thickness, swung outwards. +Nehushta passed through the aperture, followed by Ithiel. +</p> + +<p> +“See,” he said, loosing his hold of the stone, which without noise +instantly closed, so that behind them there appeared to be nothing but a wall, +“it is well hung, is it not? and to come hither without this iron would +be dangerous. Here is the crack where it must be set to lift the latch +within.” +</p> + +<p> +“Whoever lived here guarded their food and water well,” answered +Nehushta. +</p> + +<p> +Then Ithiel showed her the place. It was a massive tower of a square of about +forty feet, whereof the only doorway, as he told her, had been bricked up many +years before to keep the thieves and vagabonds from sheltering there. In height +it must have measured nearly a hundred feet, and its roof had long ago rotted +away. The staircase, which was of stone, still remained, however, leading to +four galleries, also of stone. Perhaps once there were floors as well, but if +so these had vanished, only the stone galleries and their balustrades +remaining. Ithiel led Nehushta up the stair, which, though narrow, was safe and +easy. Resting at each story, at length they came to that gallery which +projected from its sides within ten feet of the top of the tower, and saw +Jerusalem and the country round spread like a map beneath. Then, as it was +sunset, they returned. At the foot of the stair Ithiel gave Nehushta the piece +of iron and showed her how to lift the secret latch and pull upon the block of +hewn stone that was a door, so that it opened to swing to again behind them. +</p> + +<p> +Next morning, before it was dawn in the world above, Miriam aroused Nehushta. +She had been promised that this day she should be taken up the Old Tower, and +so great was her longing for the scent of the free air and the sight of the +blue sky that she had scarcely closed her eyes this night. +</p> + +<p> +“Have patience, lady,” said Nehushta, “have patience. We +cannot start until the Essenes have finished their prayers to the sun, which, +down in this black hole, they worship more earnestly than ever.” +</p> + +<p> +So Miriam waited, though she would eat nothing, till at length Ithiel came and +led them past the cistern up the stairs to the store or treasure chamber, where +the trap-door stood wide, since, except in case of some danger, they had no +need to shut it. Next, they reached the door of solid stone which Ithiel showed +her how to open, and entered the base of the massive building. There, far above +her, Miriam saw the sky again, red from the lights of morning, and at the sight +of it clapped her hands and called aloud. +</p> + +<p> +“Hush!” said Ithiel. “These walls are thick, yet it is not +safe to raise a voice of joy in Jerusalem, that home of a thousand miseries, +lest, perchance, some should hear it through a cleft in the masonry, and cause +search to be made for the singer. Now, if you will, follow me.” +</p> + +<p> +So they went up and up, till at last they reached the topmost gallery, where +the wall was pierced with loopholes and overhanging platforms, whence stones +and other missiles could be hurled upon an attacking force. Miriam looked out +eagerly, walking round the gallery from aperture to aperture. +</p> + +<p> +To the south lay the marble courts and glittering buildings of the Temple, +whence, although men fought daily in them, the smoke of sacrifice still curled +up to heaven. Behind these were the Upper and the Lower City, crowded with +thousands of houses, packed, every one of them, with human beings who had fled +hither for refuge, or, notwithstanding the dangers of the time, to celebrate +the Passover. To the east was the rugged valley of Jehoshaphat, and beyond it +the Mount of Olives, green with trees soon to be laid low by the Romans. To the +north the new city of Bezetha, bordered by the third wall and the rocky lands +beyond. Not far away, also, but somewhat in front of them and to the left, rose +the mighty tower of Antonia, now one of the strongholds of John of Gischala and +the Zealots, while also to the west, across the width of the city, were the +towers of Hippicus, Phasæl and Mariamne, backed by the splendid palace of +Herod. Besides these were walls, fortresses, gates and palaces without number, +so intricate and many that the eye could scarcely follow or count them, and, +between, the numberless narrow streets of Jerusalem. These and many other +things Ithiel pointed out to Miriam, who listened eagerly till he wearied of +the task. Then they looked downwards through the overhanging platforms of stone +to the large market-place beneath and to the front, and upon the roofs of the +houses, mostly of the humbler sort, that were built behind almost up to the +walls of the Old Tower, whereon many people were gathered as though for safety, +eating their morning meal, talking anxiously together, and even praying. +</p> + +<p> +Whilst they were thus engaged, Nehushta touched Miriam and pointed to the road +which ran from the Valley of Thorns on the northeast. She looked, and saw a +great cloud of dust that advanced swiftly, and presently, through the dust, the +sheen of spears and armour. +</p> + +<p> +“The Romans!” said Nehushta quietly. +</p> + +<p> +She was not the only one who had caught sight of them, for suddenly the +battlement of every wall and tower, the roof of every lofty house, the upper +courts of the Temple, and all high places became crowded with thousands and +tens of thousands of heads, each of them staring towards that advancing dust. +In silence they stared as though their multitudes were stricken dumb, till +presently, from far below out of the maze of winding streets, floated the wail +of a single voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Woe, woe to Jerusalem!” said the voice. “Woe, woe to the +City and the Temple!” +</p> + +<p> +They shuddered, and as it seemed to them, all the listening thousands within +reach of that mournful cry shuddered also. +</p> + +<p> +“Aye!” repeated Ithiel, “woe to Jerusalem, for yonder comes +her doom.” +</p> + +<p> +Now on the more rocky ground the dust grew thinner, and through it they could +distinguish the divisions of the mighty army of destroyers. First came +thousands of Syrian allies and clouds of scouts and archers, who searched the +country far and wide. Next appeared the road-makers and the camp-setters, the +beasts of burden with the general’s baggage and its great escort, +followed by Titus himself, his bodyguard and officers, by pikemen and by +horsemen. Then were seen strange and terrible-looking engines of war beyond +count, and with them the tribunes, and the captains of cohorts and their guards +who preceded the engines, and that “abomination of desolation,” the +Roman Eagles, surrounded by bands of trumpeters, who from time to time uttered +their loud, defiant note. After them marched the vast army in ranks six deep, +divided into legions and followed by their camp-bearers and squadrons of horse. +Lastly were seen the packs of baggage, and mercenaries by thousands and tens of +thousands. On the Hill of Saul the great host halted and began to encamp. An +hour later a band of horsemen five or six hundred strong emerged out of this +camp and marched along the straight road to Jerusalem. +</p> + +<p> +“It is Titus himself,” said Ithiel. “See, the Imperial +Standard goes before him.” +</p> + +<p> +On they came till, from their lofty perch, Miriam, who was keen-sighted, could +see their separate armour and tell the colour of their horses. Eagerly she +searched them with her eyes, for well she guessed that Marcus would be one of +those who accompanied his general upon this service. That plumed warrior might +be he, or that with the purple cloak, or that who galloped out from near by the +Standard on an errand. He was there; she was sure he was there, and yet they +were as far apart as when the great sea rolled between them. +</p> + +<p> +Now, as they reconnoitred and were passing the Tower of Women, of a sudden the +gate opened, and from alleys and houses where they had lain in ambush were +poured out thousands of Jews. Right through the thin line of horsemen they +pierced, uttering savage cries, then doubled back upon the severed ends. Many +were cut down; Miriam could see them falling from their horses. The Imperial +Standard sank, then rose and sank again to rise once more. Now dust hid the +combat, and she thought that all the Romans must be slain. But no, for +presently they began to appear beyond the dust, riding back by the way they had +come, though fewer than they were. They had charged through the multitude of +Jews and escaped. But who had escaped and who were left behind? Ah! that she +could not tell; and it was with a sick and anxious heart that Miriam descended +the steps of the tower into the darkness of the caves. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap15"></a>CHAPTER XV<br/> +WHAT PASSED IN THE TOWER</h2> + +<p> +Nearly four months had gone by. Perhaps, during the whole history of the world +there never has been and never will be more cruel suffering than was endured by +the inhabitants of Jerusalem during that period, or rather by the survivors of +the nation of the Jews who were crowded together within its walls. Forgetting +their internecine quarrels in the face of overwhelming danger, too late the +factions united and fought against the common foe with a ferocity that has been +seldom equalled. They left nothing undone which desperate men could do. Again +and again they sallied forth against the Romans, slaughtering thousands of +them. They captured their battering-rams and catapults. They undermined the +great wooden towers which Titus erected against their walls, and burnt them. +With varying success they made sally upon sally. Titus took the third wall and +the new city of Bezetha. He took the second wall and pulled it down. Then he +sent Josephus, the historian, to persuade the Jews to surrender, but his +countrymen cursed and stoned him, and the war went on. +</p> + +<p> +At length, as it seemed to be impossible to carry the place by assault, Titus +adopted a surer and more terrible plan. Enclosing the first unconquered wall, +the Temple, and the fortress by another wall of his own making, he sat down and +waited for starvation to do its work. Then came the famine. At the beginning, +before the maddened, devil-inspired factions began to destroy each other and to +prey upon the peaceful people, Jerusalem was amply provisioned. But each party +squandered the stores that were within its reach, and, whenever they could do +so, burnt those of their rivals, so that the food which might have supplied the +whole city for months, vanished quickly in orgies of wanton waste and +destruction. Now all, or almost all, was gone, and by tens and hundreds of +thousands the people starved. +</p> + +<p> +Those who are curious about such matters, those who desire to know how much +human beings can endure, and of what savagery they can be capable when hunger +drives them, may find these details set out in the pages of Josephus, the +renegade Jewish historian. It serves no good purpose and will not help our +story to repeat them; indeed for the most part they are too terrible to be +repeated. History does not record, and the mind of man cannot invent a cruelty +which was not practised by the famished Jews upon other Jews suspected of the +crime of having hidden food to feed themselves or their families. Now the +fearful prophecy was fulfilled, and it came about that mothers devoured their +own infants, and children snatched the last morsel of bread from the lips of +their dying parents. If these things were done between those who were of one +blood, what dreadful torment was there that was not practised by stranger upon +stranger? The city went mad beneath the weight of its abominable and obscene +misery. Thousands perished every day, and every night thousands more escaped, +or attempted to escape, to the Romans, who caught the poor wretches and +crucified them beneath the walls, till there was no more wood of which to make +the crosses, and no more ground whereon to stand them. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +All these things and many others Miriam saw from her place of outlook in the +gallery of the deserted tower. She saw the people lying dead by hundreds in the +streets beneath. She saw the robbers hale them from their houses and torture +them to discover the hiding-place of the food which they were supposed to have +hidden, and when they failed, put them to the sword. She saw the Valley of the +Kidron and the lower slopes of the Mount of Olives covered with captive Jews +writhing on their crosses, there to die as the Messiah whom they had rejected, +died. She saw the furious attacks, the yet more furious sallies and the +dreadful daily slaughter, till at length her heart grew so sick within her, +that although she still took refuge in the ruined tower to escape the gloom +beneath, Miriam would spend whole hours lying on her face, her fingers thrust +into her ears, that she might shut out the sights and sounds of this +unutterable woe. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile, the Essenes, who still had stores of food, ventured forth but +rarely, lest the good condition of their bodies, although their faces were +white as death from dwelling in the darkness, should tempt the starving hordes +to seize and torture them in the hope of discovering the hiding-places of their +nutriment. Indeed, to several of the brethren this happened; but in obedience +to their oaths, as will be seen in the instance of the past President +Theophilus—who went out and was no more heard of—they endured all +and died without a murmur, having betrayed nothing. Still, notwithstanding the +danger, driven to it by utter weariness of their confinement in the dark and by +the desire of obtaining news, from time to time one of them would creep forth +at night to return again before daybreak. From these men Miriam heard that +after the murder of the high priest Mathias and his sons, together with sixteen +of the Sanhedrim, on a charge of correspondence with the Romans, her +grandfather, Benoni, had been elected to that body, in which he exercised much +influence and caused many to be put to death who were accused of treason or of +favouring the Roman cause. Caleb also was in the Temple and foremost in every +fight. He was said to have sworn an oath that he would slay the Prefect of +Horse, Marcus, with whom he had an ancient quarrel, or be slain himself. It was +told, indeed, that they had met once already and struck some blows at each +other, before they were separated by an accident of war. +</p> + +<p> +The beginning of August came at length, and the wretched city, in addition to +its other miseries, panted in the heat of a scorching summer sun and was +poisoned by the stench from the dead bodies that filled the streets and were +hurled in thousands from the walls. Now the Romans had set up their battering +engines at the very gates of the Temple, and slowly but surely were winning +their way into its outer courts. +</p> + +<p> +On a certain night, about an hour before the dawn, Miriam woke Nehushta, +telling her that she was stifling there in those vaults and must ascend the +tower. Nehushta said that it was folly, whereon Miriam answered that she would +go alone. This she would not suffer her to do, so together they passed up the +stairs according to custom, and, having gained the base of the tower through +the swinging door of stone, climbed the steps that ran in the thickness of the +wall till they reached the topmost gallery. Here they sat, fanned by the faint +night wind, and watched the fires of the Romans stretched far and wide around +the walls and even among the ruins of the houses almost beneath them, since +that part of the city was taken. +</p> + +<p> +Presently the dawn broke, a splendid, fearful dawn. It was as though the angel +of the daybreak had dipped his wing into a sea of blood and dashed it against +the brow of Night, still crowned with her fading stars. Of a sudden the heavens +were filled with blots and threads of flaming colour latticed against the pale +background of the twilight sky. Miriam watched it with a kind of rapture, +letting its glory and its peace sink into her troubled soul, while from below +arose the sound of awakening camps making ready for the daily battle. Soon a +ray of burning light, cast like a spear from the crest of the Mount of Olives +across the Valley of Jehoshaphat, struck full upon the gold-roofed Temple and +its courts. At its coming, as though at a signal, the northern gates were +thrown wide, and through them poured a flood of gaunt and savage warriors. They +came on in thousands, uttering fierce war-cries. Some pickets of Romans tried +to stay their rush; in a minute they were overcome and destroyed. Now they were +surging round the feet of a great wooden tower filled with archers. Here the +fight was desperate, for the soldiers of Titus rushed up by companies to defend +their engine. But they could not drive back that onset, and presently the tower +was on fire, and in a last mad effort to save their lives its defenders were +casting themselves headlong from the lofty platform. With shouts of triumph the +Jews rushed through the breaches in the second wall, and leaving what remained +of the castle of Antonia on the left, poured down into the maze of streets and +ruined houses that lay immediately behind the Old Tower whence Miriam watched. +</p> + +<p> +In front of this building, which the Romans had never attempted to enter, since +for military purposes it was useless to them, lay the open space, once, no +doubt, part of its garden, but of late years used as a cattle market and a +place where young men exercised themselves in arms. Bordering the waste on its +further side were strong fortifications, the camping ground of the twelfth and +fifteenth legions. Across this open space those who remained of the Romans fled +back towards their outer line, followed by swarms of furious Jews. They gained +them, such as were not overtaken, but the Jews who pursued were met with so +fierce a charge, delivered by the fresh troops behind the defences, that they +were in turn swept back and took refuge among the ruined houses. Suddenly +Miriam’s attention became concentrated upon the mounted officer who led +this charge, a gallant-looking man clad in splendid armour, whose clear, +ringing voice, as he uttered the words of command, had caught her ear even +through the tumult and the shouting. The Roman onslaught having reached its +limit, began to fall back again like the water from an exhausted wave upon a +slope of sand. At the moment the Jews were in no condition to press the +enemy’s retreat, so that the mounted officer who withdrew last of all, +had time to turn his horse, and heedless of the arrows that sang about him, to +study the ground now strewn with the wounded and the dead. Presently he looked +up at the deserted tower as though wondering whether he could make use of it, +and Miriam saw his face. It was Marcus, grown older, more thoughtful also, and +altered somewhat by a short curling beard, but still Marcus and no other. +</p> + +<p> +“Look! look!” she said. +</p> + +<p> +Nehushta nodded. “Yes, it is he; I thought so from the first. And now, +having seen him, lady, shall we be going?” +</p> + +<p> +“Going?” said Miriam, “wherefore?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because one army or the other may chance to think that this building +would be useful to them, and break open the walled-up door. Also they might +explore this staircase, and then——” +</p> + +<p> +“And then,” answered Miriam quietly, “we should be taken. +What of it? If the Jews find us we are of their party; if the +Romans—well, I do not greatly fear the Romans.” +</p> + +<p> +“You mean you do not fear one Roman. But who knows, but that he may +presently lie dead——” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! say it not,” answered Miriam, pressing her hand upon her +heart. “Nay, safe or unsafe, I will see this fight out. Look, yonder is +Caleb—yes, Caleb himself, shouting to the Jews. How fierce is his face, +like that of a hyena in a snare. Nay, now I will not go—go you and leave +me in peace to watch the end.” +</p> + +<p> +“Since you are too heavy and strong for my old arms to carry down those +steep steps, so be it,” answered Nehushta calmly. “After all, we +have food with us, and our angels can guard us as well on the top of a tower as +in those dirty cisterns. Also this fray is worth the watching.” +</p> + +<p> +As she spoke, the Romans having re-formed, led by the Prefect Marcus and other +officers, advanced from their entrenchment, to be met half-way by the Jews, now +reinforced from the Temple, among whom was Caleb. There, in the open space, +they fought hand to hand, for neither force would yield an inch. Miriam, +watching through the stone bars from above, had eyes for only two of all that +multitude of men—Marcus, whom she loved, and Caleb, whom she feared. +Marcus was attacked by a Jew, who stabbed his horse, to be instantly stabbed +himself by a Roman who came to the rescue of his commander. After this he +fought on foot. Caleb killed first one soldier than another. Watching him, +Miriam grew aware that he was cutting his way towards some point, and that the +point was Marcus. This Marcus seemed to know; at least, he also strove to cut +his way towards Caleb. Nearer and nearer they came, till at length they met and +began to rain blows upon each other; but not for long, for just then a charge +of some Roman horsemen separated them. After this both parties retired to their +lines, taking their wounded with them. +</p> + +<p> +Thus, with pauses, sometimes of two or three hours, the fight went on from +morning to noon, and from noon to sunset. During the latter part of the time +the Romans made no more attacks, but were contented with defending themselves +while they awaited reinforcements from without the city, or perhaps the results +of some counter-attack in another part. +</p> + +<p> +Thus the advantage rested, or seemed to rest, with the Jews, who held all the +ruined houses and swept the open space with their arrows. Now it was that +Nehushta’s fears were justified, for having a little leisure the Jews +took a beam of wood and battered in the walled-up doorway of the tower. +</p> + +<p> +“Look!” said Nehushta, pointing down. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Nou!” Miriam answered, “I was wrong. I have run you into +danger. But indeed I could not go. What shall we do now?” +</p> + +<p> +“Sit quiet until they come to take us,” said Nehushta grimly, +“and then, if they give us time, explain as best we may.” +</p> + +<p> +As it chanced, however, the Jews did not come, since they feared that if they +mounted the stair some sudden rush of Romans might trap such of them as were +within before they had time to descend again. Only they made use of the base of +the tower to shelter those of their wounded whose hurts were so desperate that +they dared not move them. +</p> + +<p> +Now the fighting having ceased for a while, the soldiers of both sides amused +themselves with shouting taunts and insults at each other, or challenges to +single combat. Presently Caleb stepped forward from the shelter of a wall and +called out that if the Prefect Marcus would meet him alone in the open space he +had something to say which he would be glad to hear. Thereupon Marcus, stepping +out from his defences, where several of his officers seemed to be striving to +detain him, answered: +</p> + +<p> +“I will come,” and walked to the centre of the market, where he was +met by Caleb. +</p> + +<p> +Here the two of them spoke together alone, but of what they said Miriam and +Nehushta, watching them from above, could catch no word. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! will they fight?” said Miriam. +</p> + +<p> +“It seems likely, since each of them has sworn to slay the other,” +answered Nehushta. +</p> + +<p> +While she spoke Marcus, shaking his head as though to decline some proposal, +and pointing to the men of his command, who stood up watching him, turned to +walk back to his own lines, followed by Caleb, who shouted out that he was a +coward and did not dare to stand alone before him. At this insult Marcus +winced, then went on again, doubtless because he thought it his duty to rejoin +his company, whereon Caleb, drawing his sword, struck him with the flat of it +across the back. Now the Jews laughed, while the Romans uttered a shout of rage +at the intolerable affront offered to their commander. As for Marcus, he +wheeled round, sword in hand, and flew straight at Caleb’s throat. +</p> + +<p> +But it was for this that the Jew had been waiting, since he knew that no Roman, +and least of all Marcus, would submit to the indignity of such a blow. As his +adversary came on, made almost blind with fury, he leapt to one side lightly as +a lion leaps, and with all the force of his long sinewy arm brought down his +heavy sword upon the head of Marcus. The helm was good, or the skull beneath +must have been split in two by that blow, which, as it was, shore through it +and bit deeply into the bone. Beneath the shock Marcus staggered, threw his +arms wide, and let fall his sword. With a shout Caleb sprang at him to make an +end of him, but before he could strike the Roman seemed to recover himself, +and, knowing that his weapon was gone, did the only thing he could, rushed +straight at his foe. Caleb’s sword fell on his shoulder, but the tempered +mail withstood it, and next instant Marcus had gripped him in his arms. Down +they came together to the earth, rolling over each other, the Jew trying to +stab the Roman, the Roman to choke the Jew with his bare hand. Then from the +Roman lines rose a cry of “Rescue!” and from the Jews a cry of +“Take him.” +</p> + +<p> +Out poured the combatants from either side of the market-place by hundreds and +by thousands, and there in its centre, round the struggling forms of Caleb and +of Marcus, began the fiercest fight of all that day. Where men stood, there +they fell, for none would give back, since the Romans, outnumbered though they +were, preferred to die rather than leave a wounded and beloved captain a +prisoner in the hands of cruel enemies, while the Jews knew too well the value +of such a prize to let it escape them easily. So great was the slaughter that +presently Marcus and Caleb were hidden beneath the bodies of the fallen. More +and more Jews rushed into the fray, but still the Romans pushed onwards with +steady valour, fighting shoulder to shoulder and shield to shield. +</p> + +<p> +Then of a sudden, with a savage yell a fresh body of Jews, three or four +hundred strong, appeared at the west end of the market-place, and charged upon +the Romans, taking them in flank. The officer in command saw his danger, and +knowing that it was better that his captain should die than that the whole +company should be destroyed and the arms of Cæsar suffer a grave defeat, gave +orders for a retirement. Steadily, as though they were on parade, and dragging +with them those of their wounded comrades who could not walk, the legionaries +fell back, heedless of the storm of spears and arrows, reaching their own lines +before the outflanking body of Jews could get among them. Then seeing that +there was nothing more to be gained, since to attempt to storm the Roman works +was hopeless, the victorious Jews also retreated, this time not to the houses +behind the tower, but only to the old market wall thirty or forty paces in +front of it, which they proceeded to hold and strengthen in the fading light. +Seeing that they were lost, such of the wounded Romans as remained upon the +field committed suicide, preferring to fall upon their own spears than into the +hands of the Jews to be tortured and crucified. Also for this deed they had +another reason, since it was the decree of Titus that any soldier who was taken +living should be publicly disgraced by name and expelled from the ranks of the +legion, and, if recaptured, in addition suffer death or banishment. +</p> + +<p> +Gladly would Marcus have followed their example and thereby—though he +knew it not—save himself much misery and shame in the future, but he had +neither time nor weapon; moreover, so weak was he with struggling and the loss +of blood, that even as he and Caleb were dragged by savage hands from among the +fallen, he fainted. At first they thought that he was dead, but one of the +Jews, who chanced to be a physician by trade, declared that this was not so, +and that if he were left quiet for a while, he would come to himself again. +Therefore, as they desired to preserve this Prefect alive, either to be held as +an hostage or to be executed in sight of the army of Titus, they brought him +into the Old Tower, clearing it of their own wounded, except such of them as +had already breathed their last. Here they set a guard over him, though of this +there seemed to be little need, and went under the command of the victorious +Caleb to assist in strengthening the market-wall. +</p> + +<p> +All of these things Miriam watched from above in such an agony of fear and +doubt, that at times she thought that she would die. She saw her lover and +Caleb fall locked in each other’s arms; she saw the hideous fray that +raged around them. She saw them dragged from the heap of slain, and at the end +of it all, by the last light of day, saw Marcus, living or dead, she knew not +which, borne into the tower, and there laid upon the ground. +</p> + +<p> +“Take comfort,” whispered Nehushta, pitying her dreadful grief. +“The lord Marcus lives. If he were dead they would have stripped him and +left his body with the others. He lives, and they purpose to hold him captive, +else they would have suffered Caleb to put his sword through him, as you noted +he wished to do so soon as he found his feet.” +</p> + +<p> +“Captive,” answered Miriam. “That means that he will be +crucified like the others whom we saw yesterday upon the Temple wall.” +</p> + +<p> +Nehushta shrugged her shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +“It may be so,” she said, “unless he finds means to destroy +himself or—is saved.” +</p> + +<p> +“Saved! How can he be saved?” Then in her woe the poor girl fell +upon her knees clasping her hands and murmuring: “Oh! Jesus Christ whom I +serve, teach me how to save Marcus. Oh! Jesus, I love him, although he is not a +Christian; love him also because I love him, and teach me how to save him. Or +if one must die, take my life for his, oh! take my life for his.” +</p> + +<p> +“Cease,” said Nehushta, “for I think I hear an answer to your +prayer. Look now, he is laid just where the stair starts and not six feet from +the stone door that leads down into the cistern. Except for some dead men the +tower is empty; also the two sentries stand outside the breach in the brickwork +with which it was walled up, because there they find more light, and their +prisoner is unarmed and helpless, and cannot attempt escape. Now, if the Roman +lives and can stand, why should we not open that door and thrust him through +it?” +</p> + +<p> +“But the Jews might see us and discover the secret of the hiding-place of +the Essenes, whom they would kill because they have hidden food.” +</p> + +<p> +“Once we were the other side of the door, they could never come at them, +even if they have time to try,” answered Nehushta. “Before ever +they could burst the door the stone trap beneath can be closed and the roof of +the stair that leads to it let down by knocking away the props and flooded in +such a fashion that a week of labour would not clear it out again. Oh! have no +fear, the Essenes know and have guarded against this danger.” +</p> + +<p> +Miriam threw her arms about the neck of Nehushta and kissed her. +</p> + +<p> +“We will try, Nou, we will try,” she whispered, “and if we +fail, why then we can die with him.” +</p> + +<p> +“To you that prospect may be pleasing, but I have no desire to die with +the lord Marcus,” answered Nehushta drily. “Indeed, although I like +him well, were it not for your sake I should leave him to his chance. Nay, do +not answer or give way to too much hope. Remember, perhaps he is dead, as he +seems to be.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes,” said Miriam wildly, “we must find out. Shall we +go now?” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye, while there is still a little light, for these steps are breakneck +in the dark. No, do you follow me.” +</p> + +<p> +So on they glided down the ancient, darksome stairway, where owls hooted and +bats flittered in their faces. Now they were at the last flight, which +descended to a little recess set at right angles to the steps and flush with +the floor of the basement, for once the door of the stairway had opened here. +Thus a person standing on the last stair could not be seen by any in the tower. +They reached the step and halted. Then very stealthily Nehushta went on to her +hands and knees and thrust her head forward so that she could look into the +base of the tower. It was dark as the grave, only a faint gleam of starlight +reflected from his armour showed where Marcus lay, so close that she could +touch him with her hand. Also almost opposite to her the gloom was relieved by +a patch of faint grey light. Here it was that the wall had been broken in, for +Nehushta could see the shadows of the sentries crossing and recrossing before +the ragged opening. +</p> + +<p> +She leant yet lower towards Marcus and listened. He was not dead, for he +breathed. More, she heard him stir his hand and thought that she could see it +move upwards towards his wounded head. Then she drew back. +</p> + +<p> +“Lady,” she whispered, “he lives, and I think he is awake. +Now you must do the rest as your wit may teach you how, for if I speak to him +he will be frightened, but your voice he may remember if he has his +senses.” +</p> + +<p> +At these words all her doubts and fears seemed to vanish from Miriam’s +heart, her hand grew steady and her brain clear, for Nature told her that if +she wished to save her lover she would need both clear brain and steady hand. +The timid, love-racked girl was transformed into a woman of iron will and +purpose. In her turn she kneeled and crept a little forward from the stair, so +that her face hung over the face of Marcus. Then she spoke in a soft whisper. +</p> + +<p> +“Marcus, awake and listen, Marcus; but I pray of you do not stir or make +a noise. I am Miriam, whom once you knew.” +</p> + +<p> +At this name the dim form beneath her seemed to quiver, and the lips muttered, +“Now I know that I am dead. Well, it is better than I hoped for. Speak +on, sweet shade of Miriam.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, Marcus, you are not dead, you are only wounded and I am not a +spirit, I am a woman, that woman whom once you knew down by the banks of +Jordan. I have come to save you, I and Nehushta. If you will obey what I tell +you, and if you have the strength to stand, we can guide you into a secret +place where the Essenes are hidden, who for my sake will take care of you until +you are able to return to the Romans. If you do not escape I fear that the Jews +will crucify you.” +</p> + +<p> +“By Bacchus, so do I,” said the whisper beneath, “and that +will be worse than being beaten by Caleb. But this is a dream, I know it is a +dream. If it were Miriam I should see her, or be able to touch her. It is but a +dream of Miriam. Let me dream on,” and he turned his head. +</p> + +<p> +Miriam thought for a moment. Time was short and it was necessary to make him +understand. Well, it was not difficult. Slowly she bent a little lower and +pressed her lips upon his. +</p> + +<p> +“Marcus,” she went on, “I kiss you now to show you that I am +no dream and how needful it is that you should be awakened. Had I light I could +prove to you that I am Miriam by your ring which is upon my fingers and your +pearls which are about my neck.” +</p> + +<p> +“Cease,” he answered, “most beloved, I was weak and +wandering, now I know that this is not a dream, and I thank Caleb who has +brought us together again, against his wish, I think. Say, what must I +do?” +</p> + +<p> +“Can you stand?” asked Miriam. +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps. I am not sure. I will try.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, wait. Nehushta, come hither; you are stronger than I. Now, while I +unlatch the secret door, do you lift him up. Be swift, I hear the guard +stirring without.” +</p> + +<p> +Nehushta glided forward and knelt by the wounded man, placing her arms beneath +him. +</p> + +<p> +“Ready,” she said. “Here is the iron.” +</p> + +<p> +Miriam took it, and stepping to the wall, felt with her fingers for the crack, +which in that darkness it took time to find. At length she had it, and +inserting the thin hooked iron, lifted the hidden latch and pulled. The stone +door was very heavy and she needed all her strength to move it. At last it +began to swing. +</p> + +<p> +“Now,” she said to Nehushta, who straightened herself and dragged +the wounded Marcus to his feet. +</p> + +<p> +“Quick, quick!” said Miriam, “the guards enter.” +</p> + +<p> +Supported by Nehushta, Marcus took three tottering steps and reached the open +door. Here, on its very threshold indeed, his strength failed him, for he was +wounded in the knee as well as in the head. Groaning, “I cannot,” +he fell to the ground, dragging the old Libyan with him, his breastplate +clattering loud against the stone threshold. The sentry without heard the sound +and called to a companion to give him the lantern. In an instant Nehushta was +up again, and seizing Marcus by his right arm, began to drag him through the +opening, while Miriam, setting her back against the swinging stone to keep it +from closing, pushed against his feet. +</p> + +<p> +The lantern appeared round the angle of the broken masonry. +</p> + +<p> +“For your life’s sake!” said Miriam, and Nehushta dragged her +hardest at the heavy, helpless body of the fallen man. He moved slowly. It was +too late; if that light fell on him all was lost. In an instant Miriam took her +resolve. With an effort she swung the door wide, then as Nehushta dragged again +she sprang forward, keeping in the shadow of the wall. The Jew who held the +lantern, alarmed by the sounds within, entered hastily and, catching his foot +against the body of a dead man who lay there, stumbled so that he fell upon his +knee. In her hand Miriam held the key, and as the guard regained his feet, but +not before its light fell upon her, she struck with it at the lamp, breaking +and extinguishing it. +</p> + +<p> +Then she turned to fly, for, as she knew well, the stone would now be swinging +on its pivot. +</p> + +<p> +Alas! her chance had gone, for the man, stretching out his arm, caught her +about the middle and held her fast, shouting loudly for help. Miriam struggled, +she battered him with the iron and dragged at him with her left hand, but in +vain, for in that grip she was helpless as a child who fights against its +nurse. While she fought thus she heard the dull thud of the closing stone, and +even in her despair rejoiced, knowing that until Marcus was beyond its +threshold it could not be shut. Ceasing from her useless struggle she gathered +the forces of her mind. Marcus was safe; the door was shut and could not be +opened from the further side until another iron was procured; the guard had +seen nothing. But her escape was impossible. Her part was played, only one +thing remained for her to do—keep silence and his secret. +</p> + +<p> +Men bearing lights were rushing into the tower. Her right hand, which held the +iron, was free, and lest it should tell a tale she cast the instrument from her +towards that side of the deserted place which she knew was buried deep in +fallen stones, fragments of rotted timber and dirt from the nests of birds. +Then she stood still. Now they were upon her, Caleb at the head of them. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” he cried. +</p> + +<p> +“I know not,” answered the guard. “I heard a sound as of +clanking armour and ran in, when some one struck the lantern from my hand, a +strong rascal with whom I have struggled sorely, notwithstanding the blows that +he rained upon me with his sword. See, I hold him fast.” +</p> + +<p> +They held up their lights and saw a beautiful, dishevelled maid, small and +frail of stature, whereon they laughed out loud. +</p> + +<p> +“A strong thief, truly,” said one. “Why, it is a girl! Do you +summon the watch every time a girl catches hold of you?” +</p> + +<p> +Before the words died upon the speaker’s lips, another man called out, +“The Roman! The Prefect has gone! Where is the prisoner?” and with +a roar of wrath they began to search the place, as a cat searches for the mouse +that escapes her. Only Caleb stood still and stared at the girl. +</p> + +<p> +“Miriam!” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Caleb,” she answered quietly. “This is a strange +meeting, is it not? Why do you break in thus upon my hiding-place?” +</p> + +<p> +“Woman,” he shouted, mad with anger, “where have you hidden +the Prefect Marcus?” +</p> + +<p> +“Marcus?” she answered; “is he here? I did not know it. Well, +I saw a man run from the tower, perhaps that was he. Be swift and you may catch +him.” +</p> + +<p> +“No man left the tower,” answered the other sentry. “Seize +that woman, she has hidden the Roman in some secret place. Seize her and +search.” +</p> + +<p> +So they caught Miriam, bound her and began running round and round the wall. +“Here is a staircase,” called a man, “doubtless he has gone +up it. Come, friends.” +</p> + +<p> +Then taking lights with them, they mounted the stairs to the very top, but +found no one. Even as they came down again a trumpet blew and from without rose +the sound of a mighty shouting. +</p> + +<p> +“What happens now?” said one. +</p> + +<p> +As he spoke an officer appeared in the opening of the tower. +</p> + +<p> +“Begone,” he cried. “Back to the Temple, taking your prisoner +with you. Titus himself is upon us at the head of two fresh legions, mad at the +loss of his Prefect and so many of his soldiers. Why! where is the wounded +Roman, Marcus?” +</p> + +<p> +“He has vanished,” answered Caleb sullenly. +“Vanished”—here he glanced at Miriam with jealous and +vindictive hate—“and in his place has left to us this woman, the +grand-daughter of Benoni, Miriam, who strangely enough was once his +love.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is it so?” said the officer. “Girl, tell us what you have +done with the Roman, or die. Come, we have no time to lose.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have done nothing. I saw a man walk past the sentries, that is +all.” +</p> + +<p> +“She lies,” said the officer contemptuously. “Here, kill this +traitress.” +</p> + +<p> +A man advanced lifting his sword, and Miriam, thinking that all was over, hid +her eyes while she waited for the blow. Before it fell, however, Caleb +whispered something to the officer which caused him to change his mind. +</p> + +<p> +“So be it,” he said. “Hold your hand and take this woman with +you to the Temple, there to be tried by her grandfather, Benoni, and the other +judges of the Sanhedrim. They have means to cause the most obstinate to speak, +whereas death seals the lips forever. Swift, now, swift, for already they are +fighting on the market-place.” +</p> + +<p> +So they seized Miriam and dragged her away from the Old Tower, which an hour +later was taken possession of by the Romans, who destroyed it with the other +buildings. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap16"></a>CHAPTER XVI<br/> +THE SANHEDRIM</h2> + +<p> +The Jewish soldiers haled Miriam roughly through dark and tortuous streets, +bordered by burnt-out houses, and up steep stone slopes deep with the débris of +the siege. Indeed, they had need to hasten, for, lit with the lamp of flaming +dwellings, behind them flowed the tide of war. The Romans, driven back from +this part of the city by that day’s furious sally, under cover of the +night were re-occupying in overwhelming strength the ground that they had lost, +forcing the Jews before them and striving to cut them off from their stronghold +in the Temple and that part of the Upper City which they still held. +</p> + +<p> +The party of Jews who had Miriam in their charge were returning to the Temple +enclosure, which they could not reach from the north or east because the outer +courts and cloisters of the Holy House were already in possession of the +Romans. So it happened that they were obliged to make their way round by the +Upper City, a long and tedious journey. Once during that night they were driven +to cover until a great company of Romans had marched past. Caleb wished to +attack them, but the other captains said that they were too few and weary, so +they lay hid for nearly three hours, then went on again. After this there were +other delays at gates still in the hands of their own people, which one by one +were unbolted to them. Thus it was not far from daylight when at length they +passed over a narrow bridge that spanned some ravine and through massive doors +into a vast dim place which, as Miriam gathered from the talk of her captors, +was the inner enclosure of the Temple. Here, at the command of that captain who +had ordered her to be slain, she was thrust into a small cell in one of the +cloisters. Then the men in charge of her locked the door and went away. +</p> + +<p> +Sinking exhausted to the floor, Miriam tried to sleep, but could not, for her +brain seemed to be on fire. Whenever she shut her eyes there sprang up before +them visions of some dreadful scene which she had witnessed, while in her ears +echoed now the shouts of the victors, now the pitiful cry of the dying, and now +again the voice of the wounded Marcus calling her “Most Beloved.” +Was this indeed so, she wondered? Was it possible that he had not forgotten her +during those years of separation when there must have been so many lovely +ladies striving to win him, the rich, high-placed Roman lord, to be their lover +or their husband? She did not know, she could not tell: perhaps, in such a +plight, he would have called any woman who came to save him his Most Beloved, +yes, even old Nehushta, and even then and there she smiled a little at the +thought. Yet his voice rang true, and he had sent her the ring, the pearls and +the letter, that letter which, although she knew every word of it, she still +carried hidden in the bosom of her robe. Oh! she believed that he did love her, +and, believing, rejoiced with all her heart that it had pleased God to allow +her to save his life, even at the cost of her own. She had forgotten. There was +his wound—he might die of it. Nay, surely he would not die. For her sake, +the Essenes who knew him would treat him well, and they were skilful healers; +also, what better nurse than Nehushta could be found? Ah! poor Nou, how she +would grieve over her. What sorrow must have taken hold of her when she heard +the rock door shut and found that her nursling was cut off and captured by the +Jews. +</p> + +<p> +Happy, indeed, was it for Miriam that she could not witness what had chanced at +the further side of that block of stone; that she could not see Nehushta +beating at it with her hands and striving to thrust her thin fingers to the +latch which she had no instrument to lift, until the bones were stripped of +skin and flesh. That she could not hear Marcus, come to himself again, but +unable to rise from off his knees, cursing and raving with agony at her loss, +and because she, the tender lady whom he loved, for his sake had fallen into +the hands of the relentless Jews. Yes, that she could not hear him cursing and +raving in his utter helplessness, till at length the brain gave in his +shattered head, and he fell into a fevered madness, that for many weeks was +unpierced by any light of reason or of memory. All this, at least, was spared +to her. +</p> + +<p> +Well, the deed was done and she must pay the price, for without a doubt they +would kill her, as they had a right to do, who had saved a Roman general from +their clutches. Or if they did not, Caleb would, Caleb whose bitter jealousy, +as her instinct told her, had turned his love to hate. Never would he let her +live to fall, perchance, as his share of the Temple spoil, into the hands of +the Roman rival who had escaped him. +</p> + +<p> +It was not too great a price. Because of the birth doom laid upon her, even if +he sought it, and fortune brought them back together again, she could never be +a wife to Marcus. And for the rest she was weary, sick with the sight and sound +of slaughter and with the misery that in these latter days, as her Lord had +prophesied, was come upon the city that rejected him and the people who had +slain Him, their Messiah. Miriam wished to die, to pass to that home of perfect +and eternal peace in which she believed; where, mayhap, it might be given to +her in reward of her sufferings, to watch from afar over the soul of Marcus, +and to make ready an abode for it to dwell in through all the ages of infinity. +The thought pleased her, and lifting his ring, she pressed it to her lips which +that very night had been pressed upon his lips, then drew it off and hid it in +her hair. She wished to keep that ring until the end, if so she might. As for +the pearls, she could not hide them, and though she loved them as his +gift—well, they must go to the hand of the spoiler, and to the necks of +other women, who would never know their tale. +</p> + +<p> +This done Miriam rose to her knees and began to pray with the vivid, simple +faith that was given to the first children of the Church. She prayed for +Marcus, that he might recover and not forget her, and that the light of truth +might shine upon him; for Nehushta, that her sorrow might be soothed; for +herself, that her end might be merciful and her awakening happy; for Caleb, +that his heart might be turned; for the dead and dying, that their sins might +be forgiven; for the little children, that the Lord of Pity would have pity on +their sufferings; for the people of the Jews, that He would lift the rod of His +wrath from off them; yes, and even for the Romans, though for these, poor maid, +she knew not what petition to put up. +</p> + +<p> +Her prayer finished, once more Miriam strove to sleep and dozed a little, to be +aroused by a curious sound of feeble sighing, which seemed to come from the +further side of the cell. By now the dawn was streaming through the stone +lattice work above the doorway, and in its faint light Miriam saw the outlines +of a figure with snowy hair and beard, wrapped in a filthy robe that had once +been white. At first she thought that this figure must be a corpse thrust here +out of the way of the living, it was so stirless. But corpses do not sigh as +this man seemed to do. Who could he be, she wondered? A prisoner like herself, +left to die, as, perhaps, she would be left to die? The light grew a little. +Surely there was something familiar about the shape of that white head. She +crept nearer, thinking that she might be able to help this old man who was so +sick and suffering. Now she could see his face and the hand that lay upon his +breast. They were those of a living skeleton, for the bones stood out, and over +them the yellow skin was drawn like shrivelled parchment; only the deep sunk +eyes still shone round and bright. Oh! she knew the face. It was that of +Theophilus the Essene, a past president of the order indeed, who had been her +friend from earliest childhood and the master who taught her languages in those +far-off happy years which she spent in the village by the Dead Sea. This +Theophilus she had found dwelling with the Essenes in their cavern home, and +none of them had welcomed her more warmly. Some ten days ago, against the +advice of Ithiel and others, he had insisted on creeping out to take the air +and gather news in the city. Then he was a stout and hale old man, although +pale-faced from dwelling in the darkness. From that journey he had not +returned. Some said that he had fled to the country, others that he had gone +over to the Romans, and yet others that he had been slain by some of +Simon’s men. Now she found him thus! +</p> + +<p> +Miriam came and bent over him. +</p> + +<p> +“Master,” she said, “what ails you? How came you here?” +</p> + +<p> +He turned his hollow, vacant eyes upon her face. +</p> + +<p> +“Who is it that speaks to me thus gently?” he asked in a feeble +voice. +</p> + +<p> +“I, your ward, Miriam.” +</p> + +<p> +“Miriam! Miriam! What does Miriam in this torture-den?” +</p> + +<p> +“Master, I am a prisoner. But speak of yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +“There is little to say, Miriam. They caught me, those devils, and seeing +that I was still well-fed and strong, although sunk in years, demanded to know +whence I had my food in this city of starvation. To tell them would have been +to give up our secret and to bring doom upon the brethren, and upon you, our +guest and lady. I refused to answer, so, having tortured me without avail, they +cast me in here to starve, thinking that hunger would make me speak. But I have +not spoken. How could I, who have taken the oath of the Essenes, and been their +ruler? Now at length I die.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! say not so,” said Miriam, wringing her hands. +</p> + +<p> +“I do say it and I am thankful. Have you any food?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, a piece of dried meat and barley bread, which chanced to be in my +robe when I was captured. Take them and eat.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, Miriam, that desire has gone from me, nor do I wish to live, whose +days are done. But save the food, for doubtless they will starve you also. And, +look, there is water in that jar, they gave it me to make me live the longer. +Drink, drink while you can, who to-morrow may be thirsty.” +</p> + +<p> +For a time there was silence, while the tears that gathered in Miriam’s +eyes fell upon the old man’s face. +</p> + +<p> +“Weep not for me,” he said presently, “who go to my rest. How +came you here?” +</p> + +<p> +She told him as briefly as she might. +</p> + +<p> +“You are a brave woman,” he said when she had finished, “and +that Roman owes you much. Now I, Theophilus, who am about to die, call down the +blessing of God upon you, and upon him also for your sake, for your sake. The +shield of God be over you in the slaughter and the sorrow.” +</p> + +<p> +Then he shut his eyes and either could not or would not speak again. +</p> + +<p> +Miriam drank of the pitcher of water, for her thirst was great. Crouched at the +side of the old Essene, she watched him till at length the door opened, and two +gaunt, savage-looking men entered, who went to where Theophilus lay and kicked +him brutally. +</p> + +<p> +“What would you now?” he said, opening his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Wake up, old man,” cried one of them. “See, here is +flesh,” and he thrust a lump of some filthy carrion to his lips. +“Smell it, taste it,” he went on, “ah! is it not good? Well, +tell us where is that store of food which made you so fat who now are so thin, +and you shall have it all, yes, all, all.” +</p> + +<p> +Theophilus shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“Bethink you,” cried the man, “if you do not eat, by sunrise +to-morrow you will be dead. Speak then and eat, obstinate dog, it is your last +chance.” +</p> + +<p> +“I eat not and I tell not,” answered the aged martyr in a voice +like a hollow groan. “By to-morrow’s sunrise I shall be dead, and +soon you and all this people will be dead, and God will have judged each of us +according to his works. Repent you, for the hour is at hand.” +</p> + +<p> +Then they cursed him and smote him because of his words of ill-omen, and so +went away, taking no notice of Miriam in the corner. When they had gone she +came forward and looked. His jaw had fallen. Theophilus the Essene was at +peace. +</p> + +<p> +Another hour went by. Once more the door was opened and there appeared that +captain who had ordered her to be killed. With him were two Jews. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, woman,” he said, “to take your trial.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who is to try me?” Miriam asked. +</p> + +<p> +“The Sanhedrim, or as much as is left of it,” he answered. +“Stir now, we have no time for talking.” +</p> + +<p> +So Miriam rose and accompanied them across the corner of the vast court, in the +centre of which the Temple rose in all its glittering majesty. As she walked +she noticed that the pavement was dotted with corpses, and that from the +cloisters without went up flames and smoke. They seemed to be fighting there, +for the air was full of the sound of shouting, above which echoed the dull, +continuous thud of battering rams striking against the massive walls. +</p> + +<p> +They took her into a great chamber supported by pillars of white marble, where +many starving folk, some of them women who carried or led hollow-cheeked +children, sat silent on the floor, or wandered to and fro, their eyes fixed +upon the ground as though in aimless search for they knew not what. On a daïs +at the end of the chamber twelve or fourteen men sat in carved chairs; other +chairs stretched to the right and left of them, but these were empty. The men +were clad in magnificent robes, which seemed to hang ill upon their gaunt +forms, and, like those of the people in the hall, their eyes looked scared and +their faces were white and shrunken. These were all who were left of the +Sanhedrim of the Jews. +</p> + +<p> +As Miriam entered one of their number was delivering judgment upon a wretched +starving man. Miriam looked at the judge. It was her grandfather, Benoni, but +oh! how changed. He who had been tall and upright was now drawn almost double, +his teeth showed yellow between his lips, his long white beard was ragged and +had come out in patches, his hand shook, his gorgeous head-dress was awry. +Nothing was the same about him except his eyes, which still shone bright, but +with a fiercer fire than of old. They looked like the eyes of a famished wolf. +</p> + +<p> +“Man, have you aught to say?” he was asking of the prisoner. +</p> + +<p> +“Only this,” the prisoner answered. “I had hidden some food, +my own food, which I bought with all that remained of my fortune. Your +hyæna-men caught my wife, and tormented her until she showed it them. They fell +upon it, and, with their comrades, ate it nearly all. My wife died of +starvation and her wounds, my children died of starvation, all except one, a +child of six, whom I fed with what remained. Then she began to die also, and I +bargained with the Roman, giving him jewels and promising to show him the weak +place in the wall if he would convey the child to his camp and feed her. I +showed him the place, and he fed her in my presence, and took her away, whither +I know not. But, as you know, I was caught, and the wall was built up, so that +no harm came of my treason. I would do it again to save the life of my child, +twenty times over, if needful. You murdered my wife and my other children; +murder me also if you will. I care nothing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wretch,” said Benoni, “what are your miserable wife and +children compared to the safety of this holy place, which we defend against the +enemies of Jehovah? Lead him away, and let him be slain upon the wall, in the +sight of his friends, the Romans.” +</p> + +<p> +“I go,” said the victim, rising and stretching out his hands to the +guards, “but may you also all be slain in the sight of the Romans, you +mad murderers, who, in your lust for power, have brought doom and agony upon +the people of the Jews.” +</p> + +<p> +Then they dragged him out, and a voice called—“Bring in the next +traitor.” +</p> + +<p> +Now Miriam was brought forward. Benoni looked up and knew her. +</p> + +<p> +“Miriam?” he gasped, rising, to fall back again in his seat, +“Miriam, you here?” +</p> + +<p> +“It seems so, grandfather,” she answered quietly. +</p> + +<p> +“There is some mistake,” said Benoni. “This girl can have +harmed none. Let her be dismissed.” +</p> + +<p> +The other judges looked up. +</p> + +<p> +“Best hear the charge against her first?” said one suspiciously, +while another added, “Is not this the woman who dwelt with you at Tyre, +and who is said to be a Christian?” +</p> + +<p> +“We do not sit to try questions of faith, at least not now,” +answered Benoni evasively. +</p> + +<p> +“Woman, is it true that you are a Christian?” queried one of the +judges. +</p> + +<p> +“Sir, I am,” replied Miriam, and at her words the faces of the +Sanhedrim grew hard as stones, while someone watching in the crowd hurled a +fragment of marble at her. +</p> + +<p> +“Let it be for this time,” said the judge, “as the Rabbi +Benoni says, we are trying questions of treason, not of faith. Who accuses this +woman, and of what?” +</p> + +<p> +A man stepped forward, that captain who had wished to put Miriam to death, and +she saw that behind him were Caleb, who looked ill at ease, and the Jew who had +guarded Marcus. +</p> + +<p> +“I accuse her,” he said, “of having released the Roman +Prefect, Marcus, whom Caleb here wounded and took prisoner in the fighting +yesterday, and brought into the Old Tower, where he was laid till we knew +whether he would live or die.” +</p> + +<p> +“The Roman Prefect, Marcus?” said one. “Why, he is the friend +of Titus, and would have been worth more to us than a hundred common men. Also, +throughout this war, none has done us greater mischief. Woman, if, indeed, you +let him go, no death can repay your wickedness. Did you let him go?” +</p> + +<p> +“That is for you to discover,” answered Miriam, for now that Marcus +was safe she would tell no more lies. +</p> + +<p> +“This renegade is insolent, like all her accursed sect,” said the +judge, spitting on the ground. “Captain, tell your story, and be +brief.” +</p> + +<p> +He obeyed. After him that soldier was examined from whose hand Miriam had +struck the lantern. Then Caleb was called and asked what he knew of the matter. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing,” he answered, “except that I took the Roman and saw +him laid in the tower, for he was senseless. When I returned the Roman had +gone, and this lady Miriam was there, who said that he had escaped by the +doorway. I did not see them together, and know no more.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is a lie,” said one of the judges roughly. “You told +the captain that Marcus had been her lover. Why did you say this?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because years ago by Jordan she, who is a sculptor, graved a likeness of +him in stone,” answered Caleb. +</p> + +<p> +“Are artists always the lovers of those whom they picture, Caleb?” +asked Benoni, speaking for the first time. +</p> + +<p> +Caleb made no answer, but one of the Sanhedrim, a sharp-faced man, named +Simeon, the friend of Simon, the son of Gioras, the Zealot, who sat next to +him, cried, “Cease this foolishness; the daughter of Satan is beautiful; +doubtless Caleb desires her for himself; but what has that to do with +us?” though he added vindictively, “it should be remembered against +him that he is striving to hide the truth.” +</p> + +<p> +“There is no evidence against this woman, let her be set free,” +exclaimed Benoni. +</p> + +<p> +“So we might expect her grandfather to think,” said Simeon, with +sarcasm. “Little wonder that we are smitten with the Sword of God when +Rabbis shelter Christians because they chance to be of their house, and when +warriors bear false witness concerning them because they chance to be fair. For +my part I say that she is guilty, and has hidden the man away in some secret +place. Otherwise why did she dash the light from the soldier’s +hand?” +</p> + +<p> +“Mayhap to hide herself lest she should be attacked,” answered +another, “though how she came in the tower, I cannot guess.” +</p> + +<p> +“I lived there,” said Miriam. “It was bricked up until +yesterday and safe from robbers.” +</p> + +<p> +“So!” commented that judge, “you lived alone in a deserted +tower like a bat or an owl, and without food or water. Then these must have +been brought to you from without the walls, perhaps by some secret passage that +was known to none, down which you loosed the Prefect, but had no time to follow +him. Woman, you are a Roman spy, as a Christian well might be. I say that she +is worthy of death.” +</p> + +<p> +Then Benoni rose and rent his robes. +</p> + +<p> +“Does not enough blood run through these holy courts?” he asked, +“that you must seek that of the innocent also? What is your oath? To do +justice and to convict only upon clear, unshaken testimony. Where is this +testimony? What is there to show that the girl Miriam had any dealings with +this Marcus, whom she had not seen for years? In the Holy Name I protest +against this iniquity.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is natural that you should protest,” said one of his brethren. +</p> + +<p> +Then they fell into discussion, for the question perplexed them sorely, who, +although they were savage, still wished to be honest. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly Simeon looked up, for a thought struck him. +</p> + +<p> +“Search her,” he said, “she is in good case, she may have +food, or the secret of food, about her, or,” he added—“other +things.” +</p> + +<p> +Now two hungry-looking officers of the court seized Miriam and rent her robe +open at the breast with their rough hands, since they would not be at the pains +of loosening it. +</p> + +<p> +“See,” cried one of them, “here are pearls, fit wear for so +fine a lady. Shall we take them?” +</p> + +<p> +“Fool, let the trinkets be,” answered Simeon angrily. “Are we +common thieves?” +</p> + +<p> +“Here is something else,” said the officer, drawing the roll of +Marcus’s cherished letter from her breast. +</p> + +<p> +“Not that, not that,” the poor girl gasped. +</p> + +<p> +“Give it here,” said Simeon, stretching out his lean hand. +</p> + +<p> +Then he undid the silk case and, opening the letter, read its first lines +aloud. “‘To the lady Miriam, from Marcus the Roman, by the hand of +the Captain Gallus.’ What do you say to that, Benoni and brethren? Why, +there are pages of it, but here is the end: ‘Farewell, your ever faithful +friend and lover, Marcus.’ So, let those read it who have the time; for +my part I am satisfied. This woman is a traitress; I give my vote for +death.” +</p> + +<p> +“It was written from Rome two years ago,” pleaded Miriam; but no +one seemed to heed her, for all were talking at once. +</p> + +<p> +“I demand that the whole letter be read,” shouted Benoni. +</p> + +<p> +“We have no time, we have no time,” answered Simeon. “Other +prisoners await their trial, the Romans are battering our gates. Can we waste +more precious minutes over this Nazarene spy? Away with her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Away with her,” said Simon the son of Gioras, and the others +nodded their heads in assent. +</p> + +<p> +Then they gathered together discussing the manner of her end, while Benoni +stormed at them in vain. Not quite in vain, however, for they yielded something +to his pleading. +</p> + +<p> +“So be it,” said their spokesman, Simon the Zealot. “This is +our sentence on the traitress—that she suffer the common fate of traitors +and be taken to the upper gate, called the Gate Nicanor, that divides the Court +of Israel from the Court of Women, and bound with the chain to the central +column that is over the gate, where she may be seen both of her friends the +Romans and of the people of Israel whom she has striven to betray, there to +perish of hunger and of thirst, or in such fashion as God may appoint, for so +shall we be clean of a woman’s blood. Yet, because of the prayer of +Benoni, our brother, of whose race she is, we decree that this sentence shall +not be carried out before the set of sun, and that if in the meanwhile the +traitress elects to give information that shall lead to the recapture of the +Roman prefect, Marcus, she shall be set at liberty without the gates of the +Temple. The case is finished. Guards, take her to the prison whence she +came.” +</p> + +<p> +So they seized Miriam and led her thence through the crowd of onlookers, who +paused from their wanderings and weary searching of the ground to spit at or +curse her, and thrust her back into her cell and to the company of the cold +corpse of Theophilus the Essene. +</p> + +<p> +Here Miriam sat down, and partly to pass the time, partly because she needed +it, ate the bread and dried flesh which she had left hidden in the cell. After +this sleep came to her, who was tired out and the worst being at hand, had +nothing more to fear. For four or five hours she rested sweetly, dreaming that +she was a child again, gathering flowers on the banks of Jordan in the spring +season, till, at length, a sound caused her to awake. She looked up to see +Benoni standing before her. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it, grandfather?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! my daughter,” groaned the wretched old man, “I am come +here at some risk, for because of you and for other reasons they suspect me, +those wolf-hearted men, to bid you farewell and to ask your pardon.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why should you ask my pardon, grandfather? Seeing things as they see +them, the sentence is just enough. I am a Christian, and—if you would +know it—I did, as I hope, save the life of Marcus, for which deed my own +is forfeit.” +</p> + +<p> +“How?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“That, grandfather, I will not tell you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me, and save yourself. There is little chance that they will take +him, since the Jews have been driven from the Old Tower.” +</p> + +<p> +“The Jews might re-capture the tower, and I will not tell you. Also, the +lives of others are at stake, of my friends who have sheltered me, and who, as +I trust, will now shelter him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you must die, and by this death of shame, for I am powerless to +save you. Yes, you must die tied to a pinnacle of the gateway, a mockery to +friend and foe. Why, if it had not been that I still have some authority among +them, and that you are of my blood, girl though you be, they would have +crucified you upon the wall, serving you as the Romans serve our people.” +</p> + +<p> +“If it pleases God that I should die, I shall die. What is one life among +so many tens of thousands? Let us talk of other things while we have +time.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is there to talk of, Miriam, save misery, misery, misery?” +and again he groaned. “You were right, and I have been wrong. That +Messiah of yours whom I rejected, yes, and still reject, had at least the gift +of prophecy, for the words that you read me yonder in Tyre will be fulfilled +upon this people and city, aye, to the last letter. The Romans hold even the +outer courts of the Temple; there is no food left. In the upper town the +inhabitants devour each other and die, and die till none can bury the dead. In +a day or two, or ten—what does it matter?—we who are left must +perish also by hunger and the sword. The nation of the Jews is trodden out, the +smoke of their sacrifices goes up no more, and the Holy House that they have +builded will be pulled stone from stone, or serve as a temple for the worship +of heathen gods.” +</p> + +<p> +“Will Titus show no mercy? Can you not surrender?” asked Miriam. +</p> + +<p> +“Surrender? To be sold as slaves or dragged a spectacle at the wheels of +Cæsar’s triumphal car, through the shouting streets of Rome? No, girl, +best to fight it out. We will seek mercy of Jehovah and not of Titus. Oh! I +would that it were done with, for my heart is broken, and this judgment is +fallen on me—that I, who, of my own will, brought my daughter to her +death, must bring her daughter to death against my will. If I had hearkened to +you, you would have been in Pella, or in Egypt. I lost you, and, thinking you +dead, what I have suffered no man can know. Now I find you, and because of the +office that was thrust upon me, I, even I, from whom your life has sprung, must +bring you to your doom.” +</p> + +<p> +“Grandfather,” Miriam broke in, wringing her hands, for the grief +of this old man was awful to witness, “cease, I beseech you, cease. +Perhaps, after all, I shall not die.” +</p> + +<p> +He looked up eagerly. “Have you hope of escape?” he asked. +“Perchance Caleb——” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, I know naught of Caleb, except that there is still good in his +heart, since at the last he tried to save me—for which I thank him. +Still, I had sooner perish here alone, who do not fear death in my spirit, +whatever my flesh may fear, than escape hence in his company.” +</p> + +<p> +“What then, Miriam? Why should you think——?” and he +paused. +</p> + +<p> +“I do not think, I only trust in God and—hope. One of our faith, +now long departed, who foretold that I should be born, foretold also that I +should live out my life. It may be so—for that woman was holy, and a +prophetess.” +</p> + +<p> +As she spoke there came a rolling sound like that of distant thunder, and a +voice without called: +</p> + +<p> +“Rabbi Benoni, the wall is down. Tarry not, Rabbi Benoni, for they seek +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Alas! I must begone,” he said, “for some new horror is +fallen upon us, and they summon me to the council. Farewell, most beloved +Miriam, may my God and your God protect you, for I cannot. Farewell, and if, by +any chance, you live, forgive me, and try to forget the evil that, in my +blindness and my pride, I have brought upon yours and you, but oh! most of all +upon myself.” +</p> + +<p> +Then he embraced her passionately and was gone, leaving Miriam weeping. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap17"></a>CHAPTER XVII<br/> +THE GATE OF NICANOR</h2> + +<p> +Another two hours went by, and the lengthening shadows cast through the +stonework of the lattice told Miriam that the day was drawing to its end. +Suddenly the bolts were shot and the door opened. +</p> + +<p> +“The time is at hand,” she said to herself, and at the thought her +heart beat fast and her knees trembled, while a mist came before her eyes, so +that she could not see. When it passed she looked up, and there before her, +very handsome and stately, though worn with war and hunger, stood Caleb, sword +in hand and clad in a breast plate dinted with many blows. At the sight, +Miriam’s courage came back to her; at least before him she would show no +fear. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you sent to carry out my sentence?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +He bowed his head. “Yes, a while hence, when the sun sinks,” he +answered bitterly. “That judge, Simeon, who ordered you to be searched, +is a man with a savage heart. He thought that I tried to save you from the +wrath of the Sanhedrim; he thought that I——” +</p> + +<p> +“Let be what he thought,” interrupted Miriam, “and, friend +Caleb, do your office. When we were children together often you tied my hands +and feet with flowers, do you remember? Well, tie them now with cords, and make +an end.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are cruel,” he said, wincing. +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed! some might have thought that you are cruel. If, for instance, +they had heard your words in that tower last night when you gave up my name to +the Jews and linked it with another’s.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! Miriam,” he broke in in a pleading voice, “if I did +this—and in truth I scarcely know what I did—it was because love +and jealousy maddened me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Love? The love of the lion for the lamb! Jealousy? Why were you jealous? +Because, having striven to murder Marcus—oh! I saw the fight and it was +little better, for you smote him unawares, being fully prepared when he was +not—you feared lest I might have saved him from your fangs. Well, thanks +be to God! I did save him, as I hope. And now, officer of the most merciful and +learned Sanhedrim, do your duty.” +</p> + +<p> +“At least, Miriam,” Caleb went on, humbly, for her bitter words, +unjust as they were in part, seemed to crush him, “at least, I strove my +best for you to-day—after I found time to think.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” she answered, “to think that other lions would get the +lamb which you chance to desire for yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +“More,” he continued, taking no note. “I have made a +plan.” +</p> + +<p> +“A plan to do what?” +</p> + +<p> +“To escape. If I give the signal on your way to the gate where I must +lead you, you will be rescued by certain friends of mine who will hide you in a +place of safety, while I, the officer, shall seem to be cut down. Afterwards I +can join you and under cover of the night, by a way of which I know, we will +fly together.” +</p> + +<p> +“Fly? Where to?” +</p> + +<p> +“To the Romans, who will spare you because of what you did +yesterday—and me also.” +</p> + +<p> +“Because of what <i>you</i> did yesterday?” +</p> + +<p> +“No—because you will say that I am your husband. It will not be +true, but what of that?” +</p> + +<p> +“What of it, indeed?” asked Miriam, “since it can always +become true. But how is it that you, being one of the first of the Jewish +warriors, are prepared to fly and ask the mercy of your foes? Is it +because——” +</p> + +<p> +“Spare to insult me, Miriam. You know well why it is. You know well that +I am no traitor, and that I do not fly for fear.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” she answered, in a changed tone, for his manly words touched +her, “I know that.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is for you that I fly, for your sake I will eat this dirt and crown +myself with shame. I fly that for the second time I may save you.” +</p> + +<p> +“And in return you demand—what?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +“That I will not give, Caleb. I reject your offer.” +</p> + +<p> +“I feared it,” he answered huskily, “who am accustomed to +such denials. Then I demand this, for know that if once you pass your word I +may trust it: that you will not marry the Roman Marcus.” +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot marry the Roman Marcus any more than I can marry you, because +neither of you are Christians, and as you know well it is laid upon me as a +birth duty that I may take no man to husband who is not a Christian.” +</p> + +<p> +“For your sake, Miriam,” he answered slowly, “I am prepared +to be baptised into your faith. Let this show you how much I love you.” +</p> + +<p> +“It does not show that you love the faith, Caleb, nor if you did love it +could I love you. Jew or Christian, I cannot be your wife.” +</p> + +<p> +He turned his face to the wall and for a while was silent. Then he spoke again. +</p> + +<p> +“Miriam, so be it. I will still save you. Go, and marry Marcus, if you +can, only, if I live, I will kill him if I can, but that you need scarcely +fear, for I do not think that I shall live.” +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head. “I will not go, who am weary of flights and hidings. +Let God deal with me and Marcus and you as He pleases. Yet I thank you, and am +sorry for the unkind words I spoke. Oh! Caleb, cannot you put me out of your +mind? Are there not many fairer women who would be glad to love you? Why do you +waste your life upon me? Take your path and suffer me to take mine. Yet all +this talk is foolishness, for both are likely to be short.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yours, and that of Marcus the Roman, and my own are all one path, +Miriam, and I seek no other. As a lad, I swore that I would never take you, +except by your own wish, and to that oath I hold. Also, I swore that if I could +I would kill my rival, and to that oath I hold. If he kills me, you may wed +him. If I kill him, you need not wed me unless you so desire. But this fight is +to the death, yes, whether you live or die, it is still to the death as between +me and him. Do you understand?” +</p> + +<p> +“Your words are very plain, Caleb, but this is a strange hour to choose +to speak them, seeing that, for aught I know, Marcus is already dead, and that +within some short time I shall be dead, and that death threatens you and all +within this Temple.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yet we live, Miriam, and I believe that for none of the three of us is +the end at hand. Well, you will not fly, either with me or without me?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I will not fly.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then the time is here, and, having no choice, I must do my duty, leaving +the rest to fate. If, perchance, I can rescue you afterwards, I will, but do +not hope for such a thing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Caleb, I neither hope nor fear. Henceforth I struggle no more. I am in +other hands than yours, or those of the Jews, and as They fashion the clay so +shall it be shaped. Now, will you bind me?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have no such command. Come forth if it pleases you, the officers wait +without. Had you wished to be rescued, I should have taken the path on which my +friends await us. Now we must go another.” +</p> + +<p> +“So be it,” said Miriam, “but first give me that jar of +water, for my throat is parched.” +</p> + +<p> +He lifted it to her lips and she drank deeply. Then they went. Outside the +cloister four men were waiting, two of them those doorkeepers who had searched +her in the morning, the others soldiers. +</p> + +<p> +“You have been a long while with the pretty maid, master,” said one +of them to Caleb. “Have you been receiving confession of her sins?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have been trying to receive confession of the hiding-place of the +Roman, but the witch is obstinate,” he answered, glaring angrily at +Miriam. +</p> + +<p> +“She will soon change her tune on the gateway, master, where the nights +are cold and the day is hot for those who have neither cloaks for their backs +nor water for their stomachs. Come on, Blue Eyes, but first give me that +necklet of pearls, which may serve to buy a bit of bread or a drink of +wine,” and he thrust his filthy hand into her breast. +</p> + +<p> +Next instant a sword flashed in the red light of the evening to fall full on +the ruffian’s skull, and down he went dead or dying. +</p> + +<p> +“Brute,” said Caleb with an angry snarl, “go to seek bread +and wine in Gehenna. The maid is doomed to death, not to be plundered by such +as you. Come forward.” +</p> + +<p> +The companions of the fallen man stared at him. Then one laughed, for death was +too common a sight to excite pity or surprise, and said: +</p> + +<p> +“He was ever a greedy fellow. Let us hope that he has gone where there is +more to eat.” +</p> + +<p> +Then, preceded by Caleb, they marched through the long cloisters, passed an +inner door, turned down more cloisters on the right, and, following the base of +the great wall, came to its beautiful centre gate, Nicanor, that was adorned +with gold and silver, and stood between the Court of Women and the Court of +Israel. Over this gateway was a square building, fifty feet or more in height, +containing store chambers and places where the priests kept their instruments +of music. On its roof, which was flat, were three columns of marble, terminated +by gilded spikes. By the gate one of the Sanhedrim was waiting for them, that +same relentless judge, Simeon, who had ordered Miriam to be searched. +</p> + +<p> +“Has the woman confessed where she hid the Roman?” he asked of +Caleb. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” he answered, “she says that she knows nothing of any +Roman.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is it so, woman?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is so, Rabbi.” +</p> + +<p> +“Bring her up,” he went on sternly, and they passed through some +stone chambers to a place where there was a staircase with a door of +cedar-wood. The judge unlocked it, locking it again behind them, and they +climbed the stairs till they came to another little door of stone, which, being +opened, Miriam found herself on the roof of the gateway. They led her to the +centre pillar, to which was fastened an iron chain about ten feet in length. +Here Simeon commanded that her hands should be bound behind her, which was +done. Then he brought out of his robe a scroll written in large letters, and +tied it on to her breast. This was the writing on the scroll: +</p> + +<p> +<i>“Miriam, Nazarene and Traitress, is doomed here to die as God shall +appoint, before the face of her friends, the Romans.”</i> +</p> + +<p> +Then followed several signatures of members of the Sanhedrim, including that of +her grandfather, Benoni, who had thus been forced to show the triumph of +patriotism over kinship. +</p> + +<p> +This done the end of the chain was made fast round her middle and riveted with +a hammer in such fashion that she could not possibly escape its grip. Then all +being finished the men prepared to leave. First, however, Simeon addressed her: +</p> + +<p> +“Stay here, accursed traitress, till your bones fall piecemeal from that +chain,” he said, “stay, through storm and shine, through light and +darkness, while Roman and Jew alike make merry of your sufferings, which, if my +voice had been listened to, would have been shorter, but more cruel. Daughter +of Satan, go back to Satan and let the Son of the carpenter save you if he +can.” +</p> + +<p> +“Spare to revile the maid,” broke in Caleb furiously, “for +curses are spears that fall on the heads of those that throw them.” +</p> + +<p> +“Had I my will,” answered the Rabbi, “a spear should fall +upon your head, insolent, who dare to rebuke your elders. Begone before me, and +be sure of this, that if you strive to return here it shall be for the last +time. More is known about you, Caleb, than you think, and perhaps you also +would make friends among the Romans.” +</p> + +<p> +Caleb made no answer, for he knew the venom and power of this Zealot Simeon, +who was the chosen friend and instrument of the savage John of Gischala. Only +he looked at Miriam with sad eyes, and, muttering “You would have it so, +I can do no more. Farewell,” left her to her fate. +</p> + +<p> +So there in the red light of the sunset, with her hands bound, a placard +setting out her shame upon her breast, and chained like a wild beast to the +column of marble, Miriam was left alone. Walking as near to the little +battlement as the length of her chain would allow, she looked down into the +Court of Israel, where many of the Zealots had gathered to catch sight of her. +So soon as they saw her they yelled and hooted and cast a shower of stones, one +of which struck her on the shoulder. With a little cry of pain she ran back as +far as she could reach on the further side of the pillar. Hence she could see +the great Court of Women, whence the Gate Nicanor was approached by fifteen +steps forming the half of a circle and fashioned of white marble. This court +now was nothing but a camp, for the outer Court of the Gentiles having been +taken by the Romans, their battering rams were working at its walls. +</p> + +<p> +Then the night fell, but brought no peace with it, for the rams smote +continually, and since they were not strong enough to break through the huge +stones of the mighty wall, the Romans renewed their attempt to take them by +storm in the hours of darkness. But, indeed, it was no darkness, for the Jews +lit fires upon the top of the wall, and by their light drove off the attacking +Romans. Again and again, from her lofty perch, Miriam could see the scaling +ladders appear above the crest of the wall. Then up them would come long lines +of men, each holding a shield above his head. As the foremost of these +scrambled on to the wall, the waiting Jews rushed at them and cut them down +with savage shouts, while other Jews seizing the rungs of the ladder, thrust it +from the coping to fall with its living load back into the ditch beneath. Once +there were great cries of joy, for two standard-bearers had come up the ladders +carrying their ensigns with them. The men were overpowered and the ensigns +captured to be waved derisively at the Romans beneath, who answered the insult +with sullen roars of rage. +</p> + +<p> +So things went on till at length the legionaries, wearying of this desperate +fighting, took another counsel. Hitherto Titus had desired to preserve all the +Temple, even to the outer courts and cloisters, but now he commanded that the +gates, built of great beams of cedar and overlaid with silver plates, should be +fired. Through a storm of spears and arrows soldiers rushed up to them and +thrust lighted brands into every joint and hinge. They caught, and presently +the silver plates ran down their blazing surface in molten streams of metal. +Nor was this all, for from the gates the fire spread to the cloisters on either +side, nor did the outworn Jews attempt to stay its ravages. They drew back +sullenly, and seated in groups upon the paving of the Court of Women, watching +the circle of devouring flame creep slowly on. At length the sun rose. Now the +Romans were labouring to extinguish the fire at the gateway, and to make a road +over the ruins by which they might advance. When it was done at last, with +shouts of triumph the legionaries, commanded by Titus himself and accompanied +by a body of horsemen, advanced into the Court of Women. Back before them fled +the Jews, pouring up the steps of the Gate Nicanor, on the roof of which Miriam +was chained to her pinnacle. But of her they took no note, none had time to +think, or even to look at a single girl bound there on high in punishment for +some offence, of which the most of them knew nothing. Only they manned the +walls to right and left, and held the gateway, but to the roof where Miriam was +they did not climb, because its parapet was too low to shelter them from the +arrows of their assailants. +</p> + +<p> +The Romans saw her, however, for she perceived that some of his officers were +pointing her out to a man on horseback, clad in splendid armour, over which +fell a purple cloak, whom she took to be Titus himself. Also one of the +soldiers shot an arrow at her which struck upon the spiked column above her +head and, rebounding, fell at her feet. Titus noted this, for she saw the man +brought before him, and by his gestures gathered that the general was speaking +to him angrily. After this no more arrows were shot at her, and she understood +that their curiosity being stirred by the sight of a woman chained upon a +gateway, they did not wish to do her mischief. +</p> + +<p> +Now the August sun shone out from a cloudless sky till the hot air danced above +the roofs of the Temple and the pavings of the courts, and the thousands shut +within their walls were glad to crowd into the shadow to shelter from its fiery +beams. But Miriam could not escape them thus. In the morning and again in the +afternoon she was able indeed, by creeping round it, to take refuge in the +narrow line of shade thrown by the marble column to which she was made fast. At +mid-day, however, it flung no shadow, so for all those dreadful hours she must +pant in the burning heat without a drop of water to allay her thirst. Still she +bore it till at length came evening and its cool. +</p> + +<p> +That day the Romans made no attack, nor did the Jews attempt a sally. Only some +of the lighter of the engines were brought into the Court of Women, whence they +hurled their great stones and heavy darts into the Court of Israel beyond. +Miriam watched these missiles as they rushed by her, once or twice so close +that the wind they made stirred her hair. The sight fascinated her and took her +mind from her own sufferings. She could see the soldiers working at the levers +and pulleys till the strings of the catapult or the boards of the balista were +drawn to their places. Then the darts or the stones were set in the groove +prepared to receive it, a cord was pulled and the missile sped upon its way, +making an angry humming noise as it clove the air. At first it looked small; +then approaching it grew large, to become small again to her following sight as +its journey was accomplished. Sometimes, the stones, which did more damage than +the darts, fell upon the paving and bounded along it, marking their course by +fragments of shattered marble and a cloud of dust. At others, directed by an +evil fate, they crashed into groups of Jews, destroying all they touched. +Wandering to and fro among these people was that crazed man Jesus, the son of +Annas, who had met them with his wild prophetic cry as they entered into +Jerusalem, and whose ill-omened voice Miriam had heard again before Marcus was +taken at the fight in the Old Tower. To and fro he went, none hindering him, +though many thrust their fingers in their ears and looked aside as he passed, +wailing forth: “Woe, woe to Jerusalem! Woe to the city and the +Temple!” Of a sudden, as Miriam watched, he was still for a moment, then +throwing up his arms, cried in a piercing voice, “Woe, woe to +myself!” Before the echo of his words had died against the Temple walls, +a great stone cast from the Court of Women rushed upon him through the air and +felled him to the earth. On it went with vast bounds, but Jesus, the son of +Annas, lay still. Now, in the hour of the accomplishment of his prophecy, his +pilgrimage was ended. +</p> + +<p> +All the day the cloisters that surrounded the Court of Women burned fiercely, +but the Jews, whose heart was out of them, did not sally forth, and the Romans +made no attack upon the inner Court of Israel. At length the last rays of the +setting sun struck upon the slopes of the Mount of Olives, the white tents of +the Roman camps, and the hundreds of crosses, each bearing its ghastly burden, +that filled the Valley of Jehoshaphat and climbed up the mountain sides +wherever space could be found for them to stand. Then over the tortured, +famished city down fell the welcome night. To none was it more welcome than to +Miriam, for with it came a copious dew which seemed to condense upon the gilded +spike of her marble pillar, whence it trickled so continually, that by licking +a little channel in the marble, she was enabled, before it ceased, to allay the +worst pangs of her thirst. This dew gathered upon her hair, bared neck and +garments, so that through them also she seemed to take in moisture and renew +her life. After this she slept a while, expecting always to be awakened by some +fresh conflict. But on that night none took place, the fight was for the +morrow. Meanwhile there was peace. +</p> + +<p> +Miriam dreamed in her uneasy sleep, and in this dream many visions came to her. +She saw this sacred hill of Moriah, whereon the Temple stood, as it had been in +the beginning, a rugged spot clothed with ungrafted carob trees and olives, and +inhabited, not of men, but by wild boars and the hyænas that preyed upon their +young. Almost in its centre lay a huge black stone. To this stone came a man +clad in the garb of the Arabs of the desert, and with him a little lad whom he +bound upon the stone as though to offer him in sacrifice. Then, as he was about +to plunge a knife into his heart, a glory shone round the place, and a voice +cried to him to hold his hand. That was a vision of the offering of Isaac. It +passed, and there came another vision. +</p> + +<p> +Again she saw the sacred height of Moriah, and lo! a Temple stood upon it, a +splendid building, but not that which she knew, and in front of this Temple the +same black rock. On the rock, where once the lad had been bound, was an altar, +and before the altar a glorious man clad in priestly robes, who offered +sacrifice of lambs and oxen and in a sonorous voice gave praise to Jehovah in +the presence of a countless host of people. This she knew was the vision of +Solomon the King. +</p> + +<p> +It passed, and lo! by this same black rock stood another man, pale and +eager-faced, with piercing eyes, who reproached the worshippers in the Temple +because of the wickedness of their hearts, and drove them from before him with +a scourge of cords. This she knew was a vision of Jesus, the Son of Mary, that +Messiah Whom she worshipped, for as He drove out the people He prophesied the +desolation that should fall upon them, and as they fled they mocked Him. +</p> + +<p> +The picture passed, and again she saw the black rock, but now it lay beneath a +gilded dome and light fell upon it through painted windows. About it moved many +priests whose worship was strange to her, and so they seemed to move for ages. +At length the doors of that dome were burst open, and upon the priests rushed +fair-faced, stately-looking men, clad in white mail and bearing upon their +shields and breastplates the symbol of the Cross. They slaughtered the votaries +of the strange worship, and once more the rock was red with blood. Now they +were gone in turn and other priests moved beneath the dome, but the Cross had +vanished thence, and its pinnacles were crowned with crescents. +</p> + +<p> +That vision passed, and there came another of dim, undistinguishable hordes +that tore down the crescents and slaughtered the ministers of the strange +faith, and gave the domed temple to the flames. +</p> + +<p> +That vision passed, and once more the summit of Mount Moriah was as it had been +in the beginning: the wild olive and the wild fig flourished among its desolate +terraces, the wild boar roamed beneath their shade, and there were none to hunt +him. Only the sunlight and the moonlight still beat upon the ancient Rock of +Sacrifice. +</p> + +<p> +That vision passed, and lo! around the rock, filling the Valley of Jehoshaphat +and the valleys beyond, and the Mount of Olives and the mountains above, yes, +and the empty air between earth and sky, further than the eye could reach, +stood, rank upon rank, all the countless million millions of mankind, all the +millions that had been and were yet to be, gazing, every one of them, anxiously +and in utter silence upon the scarred and naked Rock of Sacrifice. Now upon the +rock there grew a glory so bright that at the sight of it all the millions of +millions abased their eyes. And from the glory pealed forth a voice of a +trumpet, that seemed to say: +</p> + +<p> +“This is the end and the beginning, all things are accomplished in their +order, now is the day of Decision.” +</p> + +<p> +Then, in her dream, the sun turned red as blood and the stars seemed to fall +and winds shook the world, and darkness covered it, and in the winds and the +darkness were voices, and standing upon the rock, its arms stretched east and +west, a cross of fire, and filling the heavens above the cross, company upon +company of angels. This last vision of judgment passed also and Miriam awoke +again from her haunted, horror-begotten sleep, to see the watch-fires of the +Romans burning in the Court of Women before her, and from the Court of Israel +behind her, where they were herded like cattle in the slaughterer’s yard, +to hear the groans of the starving Jews who to-morrow were destined to the +sword. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap18"></a>CHAPTER XVIII<br/> +THE DEATH-STRUGGLE OF ISRAEL</h2> + +<p> +Now the light began to grow, but that morning no sun rose upon the sight of the +thousands who waited for its coming. The whole heaven was dark with a gray mist +that seemed to drift up in billows from the sea, bringing with it a salt +dampness. For this mist Miriam was thankful, since had the sun shone hotly she +knew not how she would have lived through another day. Already she grew very +weak, who had suffered so much and eaten so little, and whose only drink had +been the dew, but she felt that while the mist hid the sun her life would bide +with her. +</p> + +<p> +To others also this mist was welcome. Under cover of it Caleb approached the +gateway, and although he could not ascend it, as the doors were locked and +guarded, he cast on to its roof so cleverly, that it fell almost at +Miriam’s feet, a linen bag in which was a leathern bottle containing wine +and water, and with it a mouldy crust of bread, doubtless all that he could +find, or buy, or steal. Kneeling down, Miriam loosed the string of the bag with +her teeth and devoured the crust of bread, again returning thanks that Caleb +had been moved to this thought. But from the bottle she could not drink, for +her hands being bound behind her, she was able neither to lift it nor to untie +the thong that made fast its neck. Therefore, as, notwithstanding the dew which +she had lapped, she needed drink sorely and longed also for the use of her +hands to protect herself from the tormenting attacks of stinging gnats and +carrion flies, she set herself to try to free them. +</p> + +<p> +Now the gilt spike that crowned her pillar was made fast with angle-irons let +into the marble and the edge of one of these irons projected somewhat and was +rough. Looking at it the thought came into Miriam’s mind that it might +serve to rub through the cord with which her hands were bound. So standing with +her back to the pillar she began her task, to find that it must be done little +by little, since the awkward movement wearied her, moreover, her swollen arms +chafing against the marble of the column became intolerably sore. Yet, although +the pain made her weep, from time to time she persevered. But night fell before +the frayed cord parted. +</p> + +<p> +In the mist also the Romans came near to the gate, notwithstanding the risk, +for they were very curious about her, and called to her asking why she was +bound there. She replied in the Latin language, which was understood by very +few of the Jews, that it was because she had rescued a Roman from death. Before +they could speak again those who questioned her were driven back by a shower of +arrows discharged from the wall, but in the distance she thought that she saw +one of them make report to an officer, who on receipt of it seemed to give some +orders. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile, also under cover of the mist, the Jews were preparing themselves for +battle. To the number of over four thousand men they gathered silently in the +Court of Israel. Then of a sudden the gates were thrown open, and among them +that of Nicanor. The trumpets blew a signal and out they poured into the Court +of Women, driving in the Roman guards and outposts as sticks and straws are +driven by a sudden flood. But the legionaries beyond were warned, and locking +their shields together stood firm, so that the Jews fell back from their iron +line as such a flood falls from an opposing rock. Yet they would not retreat, +but fought furiously, killing many of the Romans, until at length Titus charged +on them at the head of a squadron of horse and drove them back headlong through +the gates. Then the Romans came on and put those whom they had captured to the +sword, but as yet they did not attempt the storming of the gates. Only officers +advanced as near to the wall as they dared and called to the Jews to surrender, +saying that Titus desired to preserve their Temple and to spare their lives. +But the Jews answered them with insults, taunts, and mockery, and Miriam, +listening, wondered what spirit had entered into these people and made them +mad, so that they chose death and destruction rather than peace and mercy. Then +she remembered her strange visions of the night, and in them seemed to find an +answer. +</p> + +<p> +Having repulsed this desperate sally the Roman officers set thousands of men to +work to attempt to extinguish the flaming cloisters, since, notwithstanding the +answer of the Jews, Titus still desired to save the Temple. As for its +defenders, beyond guarding the walls of the Court of Israel, they did no more. +Gathering in such places as were most protected from the darts and stones +thrown by the engines, they crouched upon the ground, some in sullen silence, +some beating their breasts and rending their robes, while the women and +children wailed in their misery and hunger, throwing dust upon their heads. The +Gate of Nicanor, however, was still held by a strong guard, who suffered none +to approach it, nor did any attempt to ascend to its roof. That Caleb still +lived Miriam knew, for she had seen him, covered with dust and blood, driven +back by the charge of Roman horse up the steps of the gateway. This, indeed, he +was one of the last to pass before it was closed and barred to keep out the +pursuing Romans. After that she saw no more of him for many a month. +</p> + +<p> +So that day also, the last of the long siege, wore away. At nightfall the thick +mist cleared, and for the last time the rich rays of sunset shone upon the +gleaming roof and burning pinnacles of the Temple and were reflected from the +dazzling whiteness of its walls. Never had it looked more beautiful than it did +in that twilight as it towered, still perfect, above the black ruins of the +desolated city. The clamour and shouting had died away, even the mourners had +ceased their pitiful cries; except the guards, the Romans had withdrawn and +were eating their evening meal, while those who worked the terrible engines +ceased from their destroying toil. Peace, an ominous peace, brooded on the +place, and everywhere, save for the flames that crackled among the cedar-wood +beams in the roofs of the cloisters, was deep silence, such as in tropic lands +precedes the bursting of a cyclone. To Miriam who watched, it seemed as though +in the midst of this unnatural quiet Jehovah was withdrawing Himself from the +house where His Spirit dwelt and from the people who worshipped Him with their +lips, but rejected Him in their hearts. Her tormented nerves shuddered with a +fear that was not of the body, as she stared upwards at the immense arch of the +azure evening sky, half expecting that her mortal eyes would catch some vision +of the departing wings of the Angel of the Lord. But there she could see +nothing except the shapes of hundreds of high-poised eagles. “Where the +carcase is there shall the eagles be gathered together,” she muttered to +herself, and remembering that these foul birds were come to feast upon the +bones of the whole people of the Jews and upon her own, she shut her eyes and +groaned. +</p> + +<p> +Then the light died on the Temple towers and faded from the pale slopes of the +mountains, and in place of the wheeling carrion birds bright stars shone out +one by one upon the black mantle of the night. +</p> + +<p> +Once again, setting her teeth because of the agony that the touch of the marble +gave to her raw and swollen flesh, Miriam began to fret the cords which bound +her wrists against the rough edge of the angle-iron. She was sure that it was +nearly worn through, but oh! how could she endure the agony until it parted? +Still she did endure, for at her feet lay the bottle, and burning thirst drove +her to the deed. Suddenly her reward came, and she felt that her arms were +free; yes, numbed, swollen and bleeding, they fell against her sides, wrenching +the stiffened muscles of her shoulders back to their place in such a fashion +that she well-nigh fainted with the pain. Still they were free, and presently +she was able to lift them, and with the help of her teeth to loose the ends of +the cord, so that the blood could run once more through her blackened wrists +and hands. Again she waited till some feeling had come back into her fingers, +which were numb and like to mortify. Then she knelt down, and drawing the +leather bottle to her, held it between her palms, while, with her teeth, she +undid its thong. The task was hard, for it was well tied, but at length the +knots gave, and Miriam drank. So fearful was her thirst that she could have +emptied the bottle at a draught, but this she, who had lived in the desert, was +too wise to do, for she knew that it might kill her. Also when that was gone +there was no more. So she drank half of it in slow sips, then tied the string +as well as she was able and set it down again. +</p> + +<p> +Now the wine, although it was mixed with water, took hold of her who for so +long had eaten nothing save a mouldy crust, so that strange sounds drummed in +her ears, and sinking down against the column she became senseless for a while. +She awoke again, feeling somewhat refreshed and, though her head seemed as +though it did not belong to her, well able to think. Her arms also were better +and her fingers had recovered their feeling. If only she could loose that +galling chain, she thought to herself, she might escape, for now death, however +strong her faith, was very near and unlovely; also she suffered in many ways. +To die and pass quick to Heaven—that would be well, but to perish by +inches of starvation, heat, cold, and cramped limbs, with pains within and +without and a swimming sickness of the head, ah! it was hard to bear. She knew +that even were she free she could not hope to descend the gateway by its +staircase, since the doors were locked and barred, and if she passed them it +would be but to find herself among the Jews in the vaulted chambers beneath. +But, so she thought, perhaps she could drop from the roof, which was not so +very high, on to the paving in front of the first stair, and then, if she was +unhurt, run or crawl to the Romans, who might give her shelter. +</p> + +<p> +So Miriam tried to undo the chain, only to find that as well might she hope to +pull down the Gate Nicanor with her helpless hands. At this discovery she wept, +for now she grew weak. Well for Miriam was it that she could not have her wish, +for certainly had she attempted to drop down from the gateway to the marble +paving, or even on to the battlements of the walls which ran up to it on either +side, her bones would have been shattered like the shell of an egg and she must +have perished miserably. +</p> + +<p> +While she grieved thus, Miriam heard a stir in the Court of Israel, and by the +dim starlight saw that men were gathering, to do what she knew not. Presently, +as she wondered, the great gates were opened very softly and out poured the +Jews upon their last sally. Miriam was witnessing the death-struggle of the +nation of Israel. At the foot of the marble steps they divided, one-half of +them rushing towards the cloister on the right, and the other to that upon the +left. Their object, as it seemed to her, was to slay those Roman soldiers, who, +by the command of Titus, were still engaged in fighting the flames that +devoured these beautiful buildings, and then to surprise the camp beyond. The +scheme was such as a madman might have made, seeing that the Romans, warned by +the sortie of the morning, had thrown up a wall across the lower part of the +Court of Women, and beyond that were protected by every safeguard known to the +science of ancient war. Also the moment that the first Jew set his foot upon +the staircase, watching sentries cried out in warning and trumpets gave their +call to arms. +</p> + +<p> +Still, they reached the cloisters and killed a few Romans who had not time to +get away. Following those who fled, they came to the wall and began to try to +force it, when suddenly on its crest and to the rear appeared thousands of +those men whom they had hoped to destroy, every one of them wakeful, armed and +marshalled. The Jews hesitated, and, like a living stream of steel, the Roman +ranks poured over the wall. Then, of a sudden, terror seized those unhappy men, +and, with a melancholy cry of utter despair, they turned to flee back to the +Court of Israel. But this time the Romans were not content with driving them +away, they came on with them; some of them even reached the gate before them. +Up the marble steps poured friend and foe together; together they passed the +open gate, in their mad rush sweeping away those who had stayed to guard it, +and burst into the Court of Israel. Then leaving some to hold the gate and +reinforced continually by fresh companies from the camps within and without the +Temple courts, the Romans ran on towards the doors of the Holy House, cutting +down the fugitives as they went. Now none attempted to stand; there was no +fight made; even the bravest of the Jewish warriors, feeling that their hour +was come and that Jehovah had deserted His people, flung down their weapons and +fled, some to escape to the Upper City, more to perish on the Roman spears. +</p> + +<p> +A few attempted to take refuge in the Holy House itself, and after these +followed some Romans bearing torches in their hands. Miriam, watching terrified +from the roof of the Gate Nicanor, saw them go, the torches floating on the +dusky air like points of wind-tossed fire. Then suddenly from a certain window +on the north side of the Temple sprang out a flame so bright that from where +she stood upon the gate, Miriam could see every detail of the golden tracery. A +soldier mounted on the shoulders of another and not knowing in his madness that +he was a destroying angel, had cast a torch into and fired the window. Up ran +the bright, devouring flame spreading outwards like a fan, so that within some +few minutes all that side of the Temple was but a roaring furnace. Meanwhile +the Romans were pressing through the Gate Nicanor in an unending stream, till +presently there was a cry of “Make way! Make way!” +</p> + +<p> +Miriam looked down to see a man, bare-headed and with close-cropped hair, +white-robed also and unarmoured, as though he had risen from his couch, riding +on a great war-horse, an ivory wand in his hand and preceded by an officer who +bore the standard of the Roman Eagles. It was Titus itself, who as he came +shouted to the centurions to beat back the legionaries and extinguish the fire. +But who now could beat them back? As well might he have attempted to restrain +the hosts of Gehenna burst to the upper earth. They were mad with the lust of +blood and the lust of plunder, and even to the voice of their dread lord they +paid no heed. +</p> + +<p> +New flames sprang up in other parts of the vast Temple. It was doomed. The +golden doors were burst open and, attended by his officers, Titus passed +through them to view for the first and last time the home of Jehovah, God of +the Jews. From chamber to chamber he passed, yes, even into the Holy of Holies +itself, whence by his command were brought out the golden candlesticks and the +golden table of shewbread, nor, since God had deserted His habitation, did any +harm come to him for that deed. +</p> + +<p> +Now the Temple which for one thousand one hundred and thirty years had stood +upon the sacred summit of Mount Moriah, went upwards in a sheet of flame, +itself the greatest of the sacrifices that had ever been offered there; while +soldiers stripped it of its gold and ornaments, tossing the sacred vessels to +each other and tearing down the silken curtains of the shrine. Nor were victims +lacking to that sacrifice, for in their blind fury the Romans fell upon the +people who were crowded in the Court of Israel, and slew them to the number of +more than ten thousand, warrior and priest, citizen and woman and child +together, till the court swam with blood and the Rock of Offering was black +with the dead who had taken refuge there. Yet these did not perish quite +unavenged, for many of the Romans, their arms filled with priceless spoils of +gold and silver, the treasures of immemorial time, sank down overcome by the +heat, and where they fell they died. +</p> + +<p> +From the Court of Israel went up one mighty wail of those who sank beneath the +sword. From the thousands of the Romans went up a savage shout of triumph, the +shout of those who put them to the sword. From the multitude of the Jews who +watched this ruin from the Upper City went up a ceaseless scream of utter +agony, and dominating all, like the accompaniment of some fearful music, rose +the fierce, triumphant roar of fire. In straight lines and jagged pinnacles the +flames soared hundreds of feet into the still air, leaping higher and ever +higher as the white walls and gilded roofs fell in, till all the Temple was but +one gigantic furnace, near which none could bide save the dead, whose very +garments took fire as they lay upon the ground. Never, was such a sight seen +before; never, perhaps, will such a sight be seen again—one so awesome, +yet so majestic. +</p> + +<p> +Now every living being whom they could find was slain, and the Romans drew +back, bearing their spoil with them. But the remainder of the Jews, to the +number of some thousands, escaped by the bridges, which they broke down behind +them, across the valley into the Upper City, whence that piercing, sobbing wail +echoed without cease. Miriam watched till she could bear the sight no longer. +The glare blinded her, the heat of the incandescent furnace shrivelled her up, +her white dress scorched and turned brown. She crouched behind the shelter of +her pinnacle gasping for breath. She prayed that she might die, and could not. +Now she remembered the drink that remained in the leathern bottle, and +swallowed it to the last drop. Then she crouched down again against the pillar, +and lying thus her senses left her. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +When they came back it was daylight, and from the heap of ashes that had been +the Temple of Herod and the most glorious building in the whole world, rose a +thick cloud of black smoke, pierced here and there by little angry tongues of +fire. The Court of Israel was strewn so thick with dead that in places the +soldiers walked on them as on a carpet, or to be rid of them, hurled them into +the smouldering ruins. Upon the altar that stood on the Rock of Sacrifice a +strange sight was to be seen, for set up there was an object like the shaft of +a lance wreathed with what seemed to be twining snakes and surmounted by a +globe on which stood a golden eagle with outspread wings. Gathered in front of +it were a vast number of legionaries who did obeisance to this object. They +were offering worship to the Roman standards upon the ancient altar of the God +of Israel! Presently a figure rode before them attended by a glittering staff +of officers, to be greeted with a mighty shout of “Titus +<i>Imperator</i>! Titus <i>Imperator</i>!” Here on the scene of his +triumph his victorious legions named their general Cæsar. +</p> + +<p> +Nor was the fighting altogether ended, for on the roofs of some of the burning +cloisters were gathered a few of the most desperate of the survivors of the +Jews, who, as the cloisters crumbled beneath them, retreated slowly towards the +Gate Nicanor, which still stood unharmed. The Romans, weary with slaughter, +called to them to come down and surrender, but they would not, and Miriam +watching them, to her horror saw that one of these men was none other than her +grandfather, Benoni. As they would not yield, the Romans shot at them with +arrows, so that presently every one of them was down except Benoni, whom no +dart seemed to touch. +</p> + +<p> +“Cease shooting,” cried a voice, “and bring a ladder. That +man is brave and one of the Sanhedrim. Let him be taken alive.” +</p> + +<p> +A ladder was brought and reared against the wall near the Gate Nicanor and up +it came Romans. Benoni retreated before them till he stood upon the edge of the +gulf of advancing fire. Then he turned round and faced them. As he turned he +caught sight of Miriam huddled at the base of her column upon the roof of the +gate, and thinking that she was dead, wrung his hands and tore his beard. She +guessed his grief, but so weak and parched was she, that she could call no word +of comfort to him, or do more than watch the end with fascinated eyes. +</p> + +<p> +The soldiers came on along the top of the wall till they feared to approach +nearer to the fire, lest they should fall through the burning rafters. +</p> + +<p> +“Yield!” they cried. “Yield, fool, before you perish! Titus +gives you your life.” +</p> + +<p> +“That he may drag me, an elder of Israel, in chains through the streets +of Rome,” answered the old Jew scornfully. “Nay, I will not yield, +and I pray God that the same end which you have brought upon this city and its +children, may fall upon your city and its children at the hands of men even +more cruel than yourselves.” +</p> + +<p> +Then stooping down he lifted a spear which lay upon the wall and hurled it at +them so fiercely, that it transfixed the buckler of one of the soldiers and the +arm behind the buckler. +</p> + +<p> +“Would that it had been your heart, heathen, and the heart of all your +race!” he screamed, and lifting his hands as though in invocation, +suddenly plunged headlong into the flames beneath. +</p> + +<p> +Thus, fierce and brave to the last, died Benoni the Jew. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +Again Miriam fainted, again to be awakened. The door that led from the gate +chambers to its roof burst open and through it sped a figure bare-headed and +dishevelled, his torn raiment black with blood and smoke. Staring at him, +Miriam knew the man for Simeon—yes, Simeon, her cruel judge, who had +doomed her to this dreadful end. After him, gripping his robe indeed, came a +Roman officer, a stout man of middle age, with a weather-beaten kindly face, +which in some dim way seemed to be familiar to her, and after him again, six +soldiers. +</p> + +<p> +“Hold him!” he panted. “We must have one of them to show if +only that the people may know what a live Jew is like,” and the officer +tugged so fiercely at the robe that in his struggles to be free, for he also +hoped to die by casting himself from the gateway tower, Simeon fell down. +</p> + +<p> +Next instant the soldiers were on him and held him fast. Then it was for the +first time that the captain caught sight of Miriam crouched at the foot of her +pillar. +</p> + +<p> +“Why,” he said, “I had forgotten. That is the girl whom we +saw yesterday from the Court of Women and whom we have orders to save. Is the +poor thing dead?” +</p> + +<p> +Miriam lifted her wan face and looked at him. +</p> + +<p> +“By Bacchus!” he said, “I have seen that face before; it is +not one that a man would forget. Ah! I have it now.” Then he stooped and +eagerly read the writing that was tied upon her breast: +</p> + +<p> +<i>“Miriam, Nazarene and traitress, is doomed here to die as God shall +appoint before the face of her friends, the Romans.”</i> +</p> + +<p> +“Miriam,” he said, then started and checked himself. +</p> + +<p> +“Look!” cried one of the soldiers, “the girl wears pearls, +and good ones. Is it your pleasure that I should cut them off?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, let them be,” he answered. “Neither she nor her pearls +are for any of us. Loosen her chain, not her necklet.” +</p> + +<p> +So with much trouble they broke the rivets of the chain. +</p> + +<p> +“Can you stand, lady?” said the captain to Miriam. +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“Then I needs must carry you,” and stooping down he lifted her in +his strong arms as though she had been but a child, and, bidding the soldiers +bring the Jew Simeon with them, slowly and with great care descended the +staircase up which Miriam had been taken more than sixty hours before. +</p> + +<p> +Passing through the outer doors into the archway where the great gate by which +the Romans had gained access to the Temple stood wide, the captain turned into +the Court of Israel, where some soldiers who were engaged in dividing spoil +looked up laughing and asked him whose baby he had captured. Paying no heed to +them he walked across the court, picking his way through the heaps of dead to a +range of the southern cloisters which were still standing, where officers might +be seen coming and going. Under one of these cloisters, seated on a stool and +employed in examining the vessels and other treasures of the Temple, which were +brought before him one by one, was Titus. Looking up he saw this strange +procession and commanded that they should be brought before him. +</p> + +<p> +“Who is it that you carry in your arms, captain?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“That girl, Cæsar,” he answered, “who was bound upon the +gateway and whom you have orders should not be shot at.” +</p> + +<p> +“Does she still live?” +</p> + +<p> +“She lives—no more. Thirst and heat have withered her.” +</p> + +<p> +“How came she there?” +</p> + +<p> +“This writing tells you, Cæsar.” +</p> + +<p> +Titus read. “Ah!” he said, “Nazarene. An evil sect, worse +even than these Jews, or so thought the late divine Nero. Traitress also. Why, +the girl must have deserved her fate. But what is this? ‘Is doomed to die +as God shall appoint before the face of her friends, the Romans.’ How are +the Romans her friends, I wonder? Girl, if you can speak, tell me who condemned +you.” +</p> + +<p> +Miriam lifted her dark head from the shoulder of the captain on which it lay +and pointed with her finger at the Jew, Simeon. +</p> + +<p> +“Is that so, man?” asked Cæsar. “Now tell the truth, for I +shall learn it, and if you lie you die.” +</p> + +<p> +“She was condemned by the Sanhedrim, among whom was her own grandfather, +Benoni; there is his signature with the rest upon the scroll,” Simeon +answered sullenly. +</p> + +<p> +“For what crime?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because she suffered a Roman prisoner to escape, for which deed,” +he added furiously, “may her soul burn in Gehenna for ever and +aye!” +</p> + +<p> +“What was the name of the prisoner?” asked Titus. +</p> + +<p> +“I do not remember,” answered Simeon. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said Cæsar, “it does not greatly matter, for either +he is safe or he is dead. Your robes, what are left of them, show that you also +are one of the Sanhedrim. Is it not so?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. I am Simeon, a name that you have heard.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! Simeon, here it is, written on this scroll first of all. Well, +Simeon, you doomed a high-born lady to a cruel death because she saved, or +tried to save, a Roman soldier, and it is but just that you should drink of +your own wine. Take him and fasten him to the column on the gateway and leave +him there to perish. Your Holy House is destroyed, Simeon, and being a faithful +priest, you would not wish to survive your worship.” +</p> + +<p> +“There you are right, Roman,” he answered, “though I should +have been better pleased with a quicker end, such as I trust may overtake +you.” +</p> + +<p> +Then they led him off, and presently Simeon appeared upon the gateway with +Miriam’s chain about his middle and Miriam’s rope knotted afresh +about his wrists. +</p> + +<p> +“Now for this poor girl,” went on Titus Cæsar. “It seems that +she is a Nazarene, a sect of which all men speak ill, for they try to subvert +authority and preach doctrines that would bring the world to ruin. Also she was +false to her own people, which is a crime, though one in this instance whereof +we Romans cannot complain. Therefore, if only for the sake of example it would +be wrong to set her free; indeed, to do so, would be to give her to death. My +command is, then, that she shall be taken good care of, and if she recovers, be +sent to Rome to adorn my Triumph, should the gods grant me such a thing, and +afterwards be sold as a slave for the benefit of the wounded soldiers and the +poor. Meanwhile, who will take charge of her?” +</p> + +<p> +“I,” said that officer who had freed Miriam. “There is an old +woman who tends my tent, who can nurse her in her sickness.” +</p> + +<p> +“Understand, friend,” answered Titus, “that no harm is to be +done to this girl, who is my property.” +</p> + +<p> +“I understand, O Cæsar,” said the officer. “She shall be +treated as though she were my daughter.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good. You who are present, remember his words and my decree. In Rome, if +we live to reach it, you shall give account to me of the captive lady, Miriam. +Now take her away, for there are greater matters to be dealt with than the +fortunes of this girl.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap19"></a>CHAPTER XIX<br/> +PEARL-MAIDEN</h2> + +<p> +Many days had gone by, but still the fighting was not ended, for the Jews +continued to hold the Upper City. As it chanced, however, in one of the +assaults upon it that officer who had rescued Miriam was badly hurt by a +spear-thrust in the leg, so that he could be of no more service in this war. +Therefore, because he was a man whom Titus trusted, he was ordered to sail with +others of the sick for Rome, taking in his charge much of the treasure that had +been captured, and for this purpose travelled down to Tyre, whence his vessel +was to put to sea. In obedience to the command of Cæsar he had carried the +captive Miriam to the camp of his legion upon the Mount of Olives, and there +placed her in a tent, where an old slave-woman tended her. For a while it was +not certain whether she should live or die, for her sufferings and all that she +had seen brought her so near to death that it was hard to keep her from passing +its half-opened gates. Still, with good food and care, the strength came back +to her body. But in mind Miriam remained sick, since during all these weeks she +wandered in her talk, so that no word of reason passed her lips. +</p> + +<p> +Now, many would have wearied of her and thrust her out to take her chance with +hundreds of other poor creatures who roamed about the land until they perished +or were enslaved of Arabs. But this Roman did not act thus; in truth, as he had +promised it should be, had she been his daughter, Miriam would not have been +better tended. Whenever his duties gave him time he would sit with her, trying +to beguile her madness, and after he himself was wounded, from morning to night +they were together, till at length the poor girl grew to love him in a crazy +fashion, and would throw her arms about his neck and call him +“uncle,” as in the old days she had named the Essenes. Moreover, +she learned to know the soldiers of that legion, who became fond of her and +would bring her offerings of fruit and winter flowers, or of aught else that +they thought would please her. So when the captain received his orders to +proceed to Tyre with the treasure and take ship there, he and his guard took +Miriam with them, and journeying easily, reached the city on the eighth day. +</p> + +<p> +As it chanced their ship was not ready, so they camped on the outskirts of +Paleotyrus, and by a strange accident in that very garden which had been the +property of Benoni. This place they reached after sunset one evening and set up +their tents, that of Miriam and the old slave-woman being placed on the +seashore next to the tent of her protector. This night she slept well, and +being awakened at the dawn by the murmur of the sea among the rocks, went to +the door of the tent and looked out. All the camp was sleeping, for here they +had no enemy to fear, and a great calm lay upon the sea and land. Presently the +mist lifted and the rays of the rising sun poured across the blue ocean and its +gray, bordering coast. +</p> + +<p> +With that returning light, as it happened, the light returned also into +Miriam’s darkened mind. She became aware that this scene was familiar; +she recognised the outlines of the proud and ancient island town. More, she +remembered that garden; yes, there assuredly was the palm-tree beneath which +she had often sat, and there the rock, under whose shadow grew white lilies, +where she had rested with Nehushta when the Roman captain brought her the +letter and the gifts from Marcus. Instinctively Miriam put her hand to her +neck. About it still hung the collar of pearls, and on the pearls the ring +which the slave-woman had found in her hair and tied there for safety. She took +off the ring and placed it back upon her finger. Then she walked to the rock, +sat down and tried to think. But for this, as yet her mind was not strong +enough, for there rose up in it vision after vision of blood and fire, which +crushed and overwhelmed her. All that went before the siege was clear, the rest +one red confusion. +</p> + +<p> +While she sat thus the Roman captain hobbled from his pavilion, resting on a +crutch, for his leg was still lame and shrivelled. First he went to +Miriam’s tent to inquire after her of the old woman, as was his custom at +the daybreak, then, learning that she had gone out of it, looked round for her. +Presently he perceived her sitting in the shade of the rock gazing at the sea, +and followed to join her. +</p> + +<p> +“Good morning to you, daughter,” he said. “How have you slept +after your long journey?” and paused, expecting to be answered with some +babbling, gentle nonsense such as flowed from Miriam’s lips in her +illness. But instead of this she rose and stood before him looking confused. +Then she replied: +</p> + +<p> +“Sir, I thank you, I have slept well; but tell me, is not yonder town +Tyre, and is not this the garden of my grandfather, Benoni, where I used to +wander? Nay, how can it be? So long has passed since I walked in this garden, +and so many things have happened—terrible, terrible things which I cannot +remember,” and she hid her eyes in her hand and moaned. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t try to remember them,” he said cheerfully. +“There is so much in life that it is better to forget. Yes, this is Tyre, +sure enough. You could not recognise it last night because it was too dark, and +this garden, I am told, did belong to Benoni. Who it belongs to now I do not +know. To you, I suppose, and through you to Cæsar.” +</p> + +<p> +Now while he spoke thus somewhat at random, for he was watching her all the +while, Miriam kept her eyes fixed upon his face, as though she searched there +for something which she could but half recall. Suddenly an inspiration entered +into them and she said: +</p> + +<p> +“Now I have it! You are the Roman captain, Gallus, who brought me the +letter from——” and she paused, thrusting her hand into the +bosom of her robe, then went on with something like a sob: “Oh! it is +gone. How did it go? Let me think.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t think,” said Gallus; “there are so many things +in the world which it is better not to think about. Yes, as it happens, I am +that man, and some years ago I did bring you the letter from Marcus, called The +Fortunate. Also, as it chanced, I never forgot your sweet face and knew it +again at a time when it was well that you should find a friend. No, we +won’t talk about it now. Look, the old slave calls you. It is time that +you should break your fast, and I also must eat and have my wound dressed. +Afterwards we will talk.” +</p> + +<p> +All that morning Miriam saw nothing more of Gallus. Indeed, he did not mean +that she should, since he was sure that her new-found sense ought not to be +overstrained at first, lest it should break down again, never to recover. So +she went out and sat alone by the garden beach, for the soldiers had orders to +respect her privacy, and gazed at the sea. +</p> + +<p> +As she sat thus in quiet, event by event the terrible past came back to her. +She remembered it all now—their flight from Tyre; the march into +Jerusalem; the sojourn in the dark with the Essenes; the Old Tower and what +befell there; the escape of Marcus; her trial before the Sanhedrim; the +execution of her sentence upon the gateway; and then that fearful night when +the flames of the burning Temple scorched to her very brain, and the sights and +sounds of slaughter withered her heart. After this she could recall but one +more thing—the vision of the majestic figure of Benoni standing against a +background of black smoke upon the lofty cloister-roof and defying the Romans +before he plunged headlong in the flames beneath. Of her rescue on the roof of +the Gate Nicanor, of her being carried before Titus Cæsar in the arms of +Gallus, and of his judgment concerning her she recollected nothing. Nor, +indeed, did she ever attain to a clear memory of those events, while the time +between them and the recovery of her reason by the seashore in the garden at +Tyre always remained a blank. That troubled fragment of her life was sunk in a +black sea of oblivion. +</p> + +<p> +At length the old woman came to summon Miriam to her midday meal, and led her, +not to her own tent, but to that which was pitched to serve as an eating-place +for the captain, Gallus. As she went she saw knots of soldiers gathered across +her path as though to intercept her, and turned to fly, for the sight of them +brought back the terrors of the siege. +</p> + +<p> +“Have no fear of them,” said the old woman, smiling. “Ill +would it go here with him who dared to lift a finger against their +Pearl-Maiden.” +</p> + +<p> +“Pearl-Maiden! Why?” asked Miriam. +</p> + +<p> +“That is what they call you, because of the necklace that was upon your +breast when you were captured, which you wear still. As for why—well, I +suppose because they love you, the poor sick thing they nursed. They have heard +that you are better and gather to give you joy of it; that is all.” +</p> + +<p> +Sure enough, the words were true, for, as Miriam approached, these rough +legionaries cheered and clapped their hands, while one of them, an evil-looking +fellow with a broken nose, who was said to have committed great cruelties +during the siege, came forward bowing and presented her with a handful of +wild-flowers, which he must have collected with some trouble, since, at this +season of the year they were not common. She took them, and being still weak, +burst into tears. +</p> + +<p> +“Why should you treat me thus,” she asked, “who am, as I +understand, but a poor captive?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, nay,” answered a sergeant, with an uncouth oath. “It is +we who are your captives, Pearl-Maiden, and we are glad, because your mind has +come to you, though, seeing how sweet you were without it, we do not know that +it can better you very much.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! friends, friends,” began Miriam, then once more broke down. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile, hearing the disturbance Gallus had come from his tent and was +hobbling towards them, when suddenly he caught sight of the tears upon +Miriam’s face and broke out into such language as could only be used by a +Roman officer of experience. +</p> + +<p> +“What have you been doing to her, you cowardly hounds?” he shouted. +“By Cæsar and the Standards, if one of you has even said a word that she +should not hear, he shall be flogged until the bones break through his +skin,” and his very beard bristling with wrath, Gallus uttered a series +of the most fearful maledictions upon the head of that supposed offender, his +female ancestry, and his descendants. +</p> + +<p> +“Your pardon, captain,” said the sergeant, “but <i>you</i> +are uttering many words that no maiden should hear.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you dare to argue with me, you foul-tongued camp scavenger?” +shouted Gallus. “Here, guard, lash him to that tree! Fear not, daughter; +the insult shall be avenged; we shall teach his dirty tongue to sing another +tune,” and again he cursed him, naming him by new names. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! sir, sir,” broke in Miriam, “what are you about to do? +This man offered me no insult, none of them offered me anything except kind +words and flowers.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then how is it that you weep?” asked Gallus suspiciously. +</p> + +<p> +“I wept, being still weak, because they who are conquerors were so kind +to one who is a slave and an outcast.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” said Gallus. “Well, guard, you need not tie him up this +time, but after all I take back nothing that I have said, seeing that in this +way or in that they did make you weep. What business had they to insult you +with their kindness? Men, henceforth you will be so good as to remember that +this maiden is the property of Titus Cæsar, and after Cæsar, of myself, in +whose charge he placed her. If you have any offerings to make to her, and I do +not dissuade you from that practice, they must be made through me. Meanwhile, +there is a cask of wine, that good old stuff from the Lebanon which I had +bought for the voyage. If you should wish to drink the health of our—our +captive, it is at your service.” +</p> + +<p> +Then taking Miriam by the hand he led her into the eating-tent, still grumbling +at the soldiers, who for their part laughed and sent for the wine. They knew +their captain’s temper, who had served with them through many a fight, +and knew also that this crazed Pearl-Maiden whom he saved had twined herself +into his heart, as was her fortune with most men of those among whom from time +to time fate drove her to seek shelter. +</p> + +<p> +In the tent Miriam found two places set, one for herself and one for the +captain Gallus. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t talk to me,” he said, “but sit down and eat, for +little enough you have swallowed all the time you were sick, and we sail +to-morrow evening at the latest, after which, unless you differ from most +women, little enough will you swallow on these winter seas until it pleases +whatever god we worship to bring us to the coasts of Italy. Now here are +oysters brought by runner from Sidon, and I command that you eat six of them +before you say a word.” +</p> + +<p> +So Miriam ate the oysters obediently, and after the oysters, fish, and after +the fish the breast of a woodcock. But from the autumn lamb, roasted whole, +which followed, she was forced to turn. +</p> + +<p> +“Send it out to the soldiers,” she suggested, and it was sent as +her gift. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, my captive,” said Gallus, drawing his stool near to her, +“I want you to tell me what you can remember of your story. Ah! you +don’t know that for many days past we have dined together and that it had +been your fashion to sit with your arm round my old neck and call me your +uncle. Nay, child, you need not blush, for I am more than old enough to be your +father, let alone your uncle, and nothing but a father shall I ever be to +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why are you so good to me?” asked Miriam. +</p> + +<p> +“Why? Oh! for several reasons. First, you were the friend of a comrade of +mine who often talked of you, but who now is dead. Secondly, you were a sick +and helpless thing whom I chanced to rescue in the great slaughter, and who +ever since has been my companion; and thirdly—yes, I will say it, though +I do not love to talk of that matter, I had a daughter, who died, and who, had +she lived, would have been of about your age. Your eyes remind me of +hers—there, is that not enough? +</p> + +<p> +“But now for the story. Stay. I will tell you what I know of it. Marcus, +he whom they called The Fortunate, but whose fortune has deserted him, was in +love with you—like the rest of us. Often he talked to me of you in Rome, +where we were friends after a fashion, though he was set far above me, and by +me sent to you that letter which I delivered here in this garden, and the +trinket that you wear about your neck, and if I remember right, with it a +ring—yes, it is upon your finger. Well, I took note of you at the time +and went my way to the war, and when I chanced to find you lately upon the top +of the Gate Nicanor, although you were more like a half-burnt cinder than a +fair maiden, I knew you again and carried you off to Cæsar, who named you his +slave and bade me take charge of you and deliver you to him in Rome. Now I want +to know how you came to be upon that gateway.” +</p> + +<p> +So Miriam began and told him all her tale, while he listened patiently. When +she had done he rose and, limping round the little table, bent over and kissed +her solemnly upon the brow. +</p> + +<p> +“By all the gods of the Romans, Greeks, Christians, Jews, and barbarian +nations, you are a noble-hearted woman,” he said, “and that kiss is +my tribute to you. Little wonder that puppy, Marcus, is called The Fortunate, +since, even when he deserved to die who suffered himself to be taken alive, you +appeared to save him—to save him, by Venus, at the cost of your own sweet +self. Well, most noble traitress, what now?” +</p> + +<p> +“I ask that question of you, Gallus. What now? Marcus, whom you should +call no ill name, and who was overwhelmed through no fault of his own, fighting +like a hero, has vanished——” +</p> + +<p> +“Across the Styx, I fear me. Indeed that would be best for him, since no +Roman must be taken prisoner and live.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, I think not, or at the least I hope he lives. My servant, Nehushta, +would nurse him for my sake, and for my sake the Essenes, among whom I dwelt, +would guard him, even to the loss of their own lives. Unless his wound killed +him I believe that Marcus is alive to-day.” +</p> + +<p> +“And if that is so you wish to communicate with him?” +</p> + +<p> +“What else, Gallus? Say, what fate will befall me when I reach +Rome?” +</p> + +<p> +“You will be kept safe till Titus comes. Then, according to his command, +you must walk in his Triumph, and after that, unless he changes his mind, which +is not likely, since he prides himself upon never having reversed a decree, +however hastily it was made, or even added to or taken from a judgment, you +must, alas! be set up in the Forum and sold as a slave to the highest +bidder.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sold as a slave to the highest bidder!” repeated Miriam faintly. +“That is a poor fate for a woman, is it not? Had it been that daughter of +yours who died, for instance, you would have thought it a poor fate for her, +would you not?” +</p> + +<p> +“Do not speak of it, do not speak of it,” muttered Gallus into his +beard. “Well, in this, as in other things, let us hope that fortune will +favour you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I should like Marcus to learn that I am to march in the Triumph, and +afterwards to be set up in the Forum and sold as a slave to the highest +bidder,” said Miriam. +</p> + +<p> +“I should like Marcus to learn—but, in the name of the +gods—how is he to learn, if he still lives? Look you, we sail to-morrow +night. What do you wish me to do?” +</p> + +<p> +“I wish you to send a messenger to Marcus bearing a token from me to +him.” +</p> + +<p> +“A messenger! What messenger? Who can find him? I can despatch a soldier, +but your Marcus is with the Essenes, who for their own sakes will keep him fast +enough as a hostage, if they have cured him. Also the Essenes live, according +to your story, in some hyæna-burrow, opening out of an underground quarry in +Jerusalem, that is, if they have not been discovered and killed long ago. How, +then, will any soldier find their hiding-place?” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not think that such a man would find it,” answered Miriam, +“but I have friends in this city, and if I could come at them I might +discover one who would meet with better fortune. You know that I am a Christian +who was brought up among the Essenes, both of them persecuted people that have +their secrets. If I find a Christian or an Essene he would take my message +and—unless he was killed—deliver it.” +</p> + +<p> +Now Gallus thought for a while, then he said, “If I were to go out in +Tyre asking for Christians or Essenes, none would appear. As well might a stork +go out and call upon a frog. But that old slave-woman, who has tended on me and +you, she is cunning in her way, and if I promised to set her at liberty should +she succeed, well, perhaps she might succeed. Stay, I will summon her,” +and he left the tent. +</p> + +<p> +Some minutes later he returned, bringing the slave with him. +</p> + +<p> +“I have explained the matter to this woman, Miriam,” he said, +“and I think that she understands, and can prove to any who are willing +to visit you, that they will have a free pass in to and out of the camp, and +need fear no harm. Tell her, then, where she is to go and whom she must +seek.” +</p> + +<p> +So Miriam told the woman, saying, “Tell any Essene whom you can find that +she who is called their Queen, bids his presence, and if he asks more, give him +this word—‘The sun rises.’ Tell any Christian whom you can +find that Miriam, their sister, seeks his aid, and if he asks more, give him +this word—‘The dawn comes.’ Do you understand?” +</p> + +<p> +“I understand,” answered the woman. +</p> + +<p> +“Then go,” said Gallus, “and be back by nightfall, +remembering that if you fail, in place of liberty you travel to Rome, whence +you will return no more.” +</p> + +<p> +“My lord, I go,” answered the woman, beating her forehead with her +hand and bowing herself from their presence. +</p> + +<p> +By nightfall she was back again with the tidings that no Christians seemed to +be left in Tyre; all had fled to Pella, or elsewhere. Of the Essenes, however, +she had found one, a minor brother of the name of Samuel, who, on hearing that +Miriam was the captive, and receiving the watchword, said that he would visit +the camp after dark, although he greatly feared that this might be some snare +set to catch him. +</p> + +<p> +After dark he came accordingly, and was led by the old woman, who waited +outside to meet him, to the tent where Miriam sat with Gallus. This Samuel +proved to be a brother of the lowest order of the Essenes, whom, although he +knew of her, Miriam had never seen. He had been absent from the village by the +Jordan at the time of the flight of the sect, having come to Tyre by leave of +the Court to bid farewell to his mother, who was on her deathbed. Hearing that +the brethren had fled, and his mother being still alive, he had remained in +Tyre instead of seeking to rejoin them at Jerusalem, thus escaping the terrors +of the siege. That was all his story. Now, having buried his mother, he desired +to rejoin the brotherhood, if any of them were left alive. +</p> + +<p> +After Gallus had left the tent, since it was not lawful that she should speak +of their secrets in the presence of any man who was not of the order, Miriam, +having first satisfied herself that he was in truth a brother, told this Samuel +all she knew of the hiding-place of the Essenes beyond the ancient quarry, and +asked him if he was willing to try to seek it out. He said yes, for he desired +to find them; also he was bound to give her what help he could, since should +the brethren discover that he had refused it, he would be expelled from their +order. Then, having pledged him to be faithful to her trust, not by oath, which +the Essenes held unlawful, but in accordance with their secret custom which was +known to her, she took from her hand the ring that Marcus had sent her, bidding +him find out the Essenes, and, if their Roman prisoner was yet alive, and among +them, to deliver it to him with a message telling him of her fate and whither +she had gone. If he was dead, or not to be found anywhere, then he was to +deliver the ring to the Libyan woman named Nehushta, with the same message. If +he could not find her either, then to her uncle Ithiel, or, failing him, to +whoever was president of the Essenes, with the same message, praying any or all +of them to succour her in her troubles, should that be possible. At the least +they were to let her have tidings at the house of Gallus, the captain, in Rome, +where he proposed to place her in charge of his wife until the time came for +her to be handed over to Titus and to walk in the Triumph. Moreover, in case +the brother should forget, she wrote a letter that he might deliver to any of +those for whom she gave the message. In this letter Miriam set out briefly all +that had befallen her since that night of parting in the Old Tower, and by the +help of Gallus, whom she now recalled to the tent, the particulars of her +rescue and of the judgment of Cæsar upon her person, ending it with these +words: +</p> + +<p> +“If it be the will of God and your will, O you who may read this letter, +haste, haste to help me, that I may escape the shame more sore than death which +awaits me yonder in Rome.” +</p> + +<p> +This letter she signed, “Miriam, of the house of Benoni,” but she +did not write upon it the names of those to whom it was addressed, fearing lest +it should fall into other hands and bring trouble upon them. +</p> + +<p> +Then Gallus asked the man Samuel what money he needed for his journey and as a +reward for his service. He answered that it was against his rule to take any +money, who was bound to help those under the protection of the order without +reward or fee, whereat Gallus stared and said that there were stranger folk in +this land than in any others that he knew, and they were many. +</p> + +<p> +So Samuel, having bowed before Miriam and pressed her hand in a certain fashion +in token of brotherhood and fidelity, was led out of the camp again, nor did +she ever see him more. Yet, as it proved, he was a faithful messenger, and she +did well to trust him. +</p> + +<p> +Next day, at the prayer of Miriam, Gallus also wrote a letter, which gave him +much trouble, to a friend of his, who was a brother officer with the army at +Jerusalem, enclosing one to be handed to Marcus if, perchance, he should have +rejoined the Standards. +</p> + +<p> +“Now daughter,” he said, “we have done all that can be done, +and must leave the rest to fate.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” she answered with a sigh, “we must leave the rest to +fate, as you Romans call God.” +</p> + +<p> +In the evening they set sail for Italy, and with them much of the captured +treasure, many sick and wounded men and a guard of soldiers. As it chanced, +having taken the sea after the autumn gales and before those of mid-winter +began, they had a swift and prosperous voyage, enduring no hardships save once +from want of water. Within thirty days they came to Rhegium, whence they +marched overland to Rome, being received everywhere very gladly by people who +were eager for tidings of the war. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap20"></a>CHAPTER XX<br/> +THE MERCHANT DEMETRIUS</h2> + +<p> +When on that fateful night in the Old Tower Miriam sprang forward to strike the +lantern from the hand of the Jew, Nehushta, who was bending over the fallen +Marcus and dragging at his body, did not even see that she had left the door. +</p> + +<p> +With an effort, the slope of the rocky passage beyond favouring her, she +half-drew, half-lifted the Roman through the entrance. Then it was, as she +straightened herself a little to take breath, that she heard the thud of the +rock door closing behind her. Still, as it was dark, she did not guess that +Miriam was parted from them, for she said: +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! into what troubles do not these men lead us poor women. Well, just +in time, and I think that none of them saw us.” +</p> + +<p> +There was no answer. Sound could not pierce that wall and the place was silent +as a tomb. +</p> + +<p> +“Lady! In the Name of Christ, where are you, lady?” asked Nehushta +in a piercing whisper, and the echoes of the gallery +answered—“Where are you, lady?” +</p> + +<p> +Just then Marcus awoke. +</p> + +<p> +“What has chanced? What place is this, Miriam?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“This has chanced,” answered Nehushta in the same awful voice. +“We are in the passage leading to the vaults; Miriam is in the hands of +the Jews in the Old Tower, and the door is shut between us. Accursed Roman! to +save your life she has sacrificed herself. Without doubt she sprang from the +door to dash the lantern from the hand of the Jew, and before she could return +again it had swung home. Now they will crucify her because she rescued +you—a Roman.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t talk, woman,” broke in Marcus savagely, “open +the door. I am still a man, I can still fight, or,” he added with a +groan, remembering that he had no sword, “at the least I can die for +her.” +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot,” gasped Nehushta. “She had the iron that lifts the +secret latch. If you had kept your sword, Roman, it might perhaps have served, +but that has gone also.” +</p> + +<p> +“Break it down,” said Marcus. “Come, I will help.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes, Roman, you will help to break down three feet of solid +stone.” +</p> + +<p> +Then began that hideous scene whereof something has been said. Nehushta strove +to reach the latch with her fingers. Marcus, standing upon one foot, strove to +shake the stone with his shoulder, the black, silent stone that never so much +as stirred. Yet they worked madly, their breath coming in great gasps, knowing +that the work was in vain, and that even if they could open the door, by now it +would be to find Miriam gone, or at the best to be taken themselves. Suddenly +Marcus ceased from his labour. +</p> + +<p> +“Lost!” he moaned, “and for my sake. O ye gods! for my +sake.” Then down he fell, his harness clattering on the rocky step, and +lay there, muttering and laughing foolishly. +</p> + +<p> +Nehushta ceased also, gasping: “The Lord help you, Miriam, for I cannot. +Oh! after all these years to lose you thus, and because of that man!” and +she glared through the darkness towards the fallen Marcus, thinking in her +heart that she would kill him. +</p> + +<p> +“Nay,” she said to herself, “she loved him, and did she know +it might pain her. Better kill myself; yes, and if I were sure that she is dead +this, sin or no sin, I would do.” +</p> + +<p> +As she sat thus, helpless, hopeless, she saw a light coming up the stair +towards them. It was borne by Ithiel. Nehushta rose and faced him. +</p> + +<p> +“Praise be to God! there you are at length,” he said. “Thrice +have I been up this stair wondering why Miriam did not come.” +</p> + +<p> +“Brother Ithiel,” answered Nehushta, “Miriam will come no +more; she is gone, leaving us in exchange this man Marcus, the Roman prefect of +Horse.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean? What do you mean?” he gasped. “Where is +Miriam?” +</p> + +<p> +“In the hands of the Jews,” she answered. Then she told him all +that story. +</p> + +<p> +“There is nothing to be done,” he moaned when she had finished. +“To open the door now would be but to reveal the secret of our +hiding-place to the Jews or to the Romans, either of whom would put us to the +sword, the Jews for food, the Romans because we are Jews. We can only leave her +to God and protect ourselves.” +</p> + +<p> +“Had I my will,” answered Nehushta, “I would leave myself to +God and still strive to protect her. Yet you are right, seeing that many lives +cannot be risked for the sake of one girl. But what of this man?” +</p> + +<p> +“We will do our best for him,” answered Ithiel, “for so she +who sacrificed herself for his sake would have wished. Also years ago he was +our guest and befriended us. Stay here a while and I will bring men to carry +him to the vault.” +</p> + +<p> +So Ithiel went away to return with sundry of the brethren, who lifted Marcus +and bore him down the stairs and passages to that darksome chamber where Miriam +had slept, while other brethren shut the trap-door, and loosened the roof of +the passage, blocking it with stone so that without great labour none could +pass that path for ever. +</p> + +<p> +Here in this silent, sunless vault for many, many days Marcus lay sick with a +brain fever, of which, had it not been for the skilful nursing of Nehushta and +of the leeches among the Essenes, he must certainly have died. But these +leeches, who were very clever, doctored the deep sword-cut in his head, +removing with little iron hooks the fragments of bone which pressed upon his +brain, and dressing that wound and another in his knee with salves. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile, they learned by their spies that both the Temple and Mount Sion had +fallen. Also they heard of the trial of Miriam and of her exposure on the Gate +Nicanor, but of what happened to her afterwards they could gather nothing. So +they mourned her as dead. +</p> + +<p> +Now, their food being at length exhausted and the watch of the Romans having +relaxed, they determined, those who were left of them, for some had died and +Ithiel himself was very ill, to attempt to escape from the hateful vaults that +had sheltered them for all these months. A question arose as to what was to be +done with Marcus, now but a shadow of a man, who still wandered somewhat in his +mind, but who had passed the worst of his sickness and seemed like to live. +Some were for abandoning him; some for sending him back to the Romans; but +Nehushta showed that it would be wise to keep him as a hostage, so that if they +were attacked they might produce him and in return for their care, perhaps buy +their lives. In the end they agreed upon this course, not so much for what they +might gain by it, but because they knew that it would have pleased the lost +maid whom they called their Queen, who had perished to save this man. +</p> + +<p> +So it came about that upon a certain night of rain and storm, when none were +stirring, a number of men with faces white as lepers, of the hue, indeed, of +roots that have pushed in the dark, might have been seen travelling down the +cavern quarries, now tenanted only by the corpses of those who had perished +there from starvation, and so through the hole beneath the wall into the free +air. With them went litters bearing their sick, and among the sick, Ithiel and +Marcus. None hindered their flight, for the Romans had deserted this part of +the ruined city and were encamped around the towers in the neighbourhood of +Mount Sion, where some few Jews still held out. +</p> + +<p> +Thus it happened that by morning they were well on the road to Jericho, which, +always a desert country, was now quite devoid of life. On they went, living on +roots and such little food as still remained to them, to Jericho itself, where +they found nothing but a ruin haunted by a few starving wretches. Thence they +travelled to their own village, to discover that, for the most part, this also +had been burnt. But certain caverns in the hillside behind, which they used as +store-houses, remained, and undiscovered in them a secret stock of corn and +wine that gave them food. +</p> + +<p> +Here, then, they camped and set to work to sow the fields which no Romans or +robbers had been able to destroy, and so lived hardly, but unmolested, till at +length the first harvest came and with it plenty. +</p> + +<p> +In this dry and wholesome air Marcus recovered rapidly, who by nature was very +strong. When first his wits returned to him he recognised Nehushta, and asked +her what had chanced. She told him all she knew, and that she believed Miriam +to be dead, tidings which caused him to fall into a deep melancholy. Meanwhile, +the Essenes treated him with kindness, but let him understand that he was their +prisoner. Nor if he had wished it, and they had given him leave to go, could he +have left them at that time, seeing that the slightest of his hurts proved to +be the worst, since the spear or sword-cut having penetrated to the joint and +let out the oil, the wound in his knee would heal only by very slow degrees, +and for many weeks left him so lame that he could not walk without a crutch. So +here he sat by the banks of the Jordan, mourning the past and well-nigh +hopeless for the future. +</p> + +<p> +Thus in solitude, tended by Nehushta, who now had grown very grim and old, and +by the poor remnant of the Essenes, Marcus passed four or five miserable +months. As he grew stronger he would limp down to the village where his hosts +were engaged in rebuilding some of their dwellings, and sit in the garden of +the house that was once occupied by Miriam. Now it was but an overgrown place, +yet among the pomegranate bushes still stood that shed which she had used as a +workshop, and in it, lying here and there as they had fallen, some of her +unfinished marbles, among them one of himself which she began and cast aside +before she executed that bust which Nero had named divine and set him to guard +in the Temple at Rome. To Marcus it was a sad place, haunted by a thousand +memories, yet he loved it because those memories were all of Miriam. +</p> + +<p> +Titus, said rumour, having accomplished the utter destruction of Jerusalem, had +moved his army to Cæsarea or Berytus, where he passed the winter season in +celebrating games in the amphitheatres. These he made splendid by the slaughter +of vast numbers of Jewish prisoners, who were forced to fight against each +other, or, after the cruel Roman fashion, exposed to the attacks of ravenous +wild beasts. But although he thought of doing so, Marcus had no means of +communicating with Titus, and was still too lame to attempt escape. Could he +have found any, indeed, to make use of them might have brought destruction upon +the Essenes, who had treated him kindly and saved his life. Also among the +Romans it was a disgrace for a soldier, and especially for an officer of high +rank, to be made prisoner, and he was loth to expose his own shame. As Gallus +had told Miriam, no Roman should be taken alive. So Marcus attempted to do +nothing, but waited, sick at heart, for whatever fate fortune might send him. +Indeed, had he been quite sure that Miriam was dead, he, who was disgraced and +a captive, would have slain himself and followed her. But although none doubted +her death—except Nehushta—his spirit did not tell him that this was +so. Thus it came about that Marcus lived on among the Essenes till his health +and strength came back to him, as it was appointed that he should do until the +time came for him to act. At length that time came. +</p> + +<p> +When Samuel, the Essene, left Tyre, bearing the letter and the ring of Miriam, +he journeyed to Jerusalem to find the Holy City but a heap of ruins, haunted by +hyænas and birds of prey that feasted on the innumerable dead. Still, faithful +to his trust, he strove to discover that entrance to the caverns of which +Miriam had told him, and to this end hovered day by day upon the north side of +the city near to the old Damascus Gate. The hole he could not find, for there +were thousands of stones behind which jackals had burrowed, and how was he to +know which of these openings led to caverns, nor were there any left to direct +him. Still, Samuel searched and waited in the hope that one day an Essene might +appear who would guide him to the hiding-place of the brethren. But no Essene +appeared, for the good reason that they had fled already. In the end he was +seized by a patrol of Roman soldiers who had observed him hovering about the +place and questioned him very strictly as to his business. He replied that it +was to gather herbs for food, whereon their officer said that they would find +him food and with it some useful work. So they took him and pressed him into a +gang of captives who were engaged in pulling down the walls, that Jerusalem +might nevermore become a fortified city. In this gang he was forced to labour +for over four months, receiving only his daily bread in payment, and with it +many blows and hard words, until at last he found an opportunity to make his +escape. +</p> + +<p> +Now among his fellow-slaves was a man whose brother belonged to the Order of +the Essenes, and from him he learned that they had gone back to Jordan. So +thither Samuel started, having Miriam’s ring still hidden safely about +his person. Reaching the place without further accident he declared himself to +the Essenes, who received him with joy, which was not to be wondered at, since +he was able to tell them that Miriam, whom they named their Queen and believed +to be dead, was still alive. He asked them if they had a Roman prisoner called +Marcus hidden away among them, and when they answered that this was so, said +that he had a message from Miriam which he was charged to deliver to him. Then +they led him to the garden where her workshop had been, telling him that there +he would find the Roman. +</p> + +<p> +Marcus was seated in the garden, basking in the sunshine, and with him +Nehushta. They were talking of Miriam—indeed, they spoke of little else. +</p> + +<p> +“Alas! although I seem to know her yet alive, I fear that she must be +dead,” Marcus was saying. “It is not possible that she could have +lived through that night of the burning of the Temple.” +</p> + +<p> +“It does not seem possible,” answered Nehushta, “yet I +believe that she did live—as in your heart you believe also. I do not +think it was fated that any Christian should perish in that war, since it has +been prophesied otherwise.” +</p> + +<p> +“Prove it to me, woman, and I should be inclined to become a Christian, +but of prophecies and such vague talk I am weary.” +</p> + +<p> +“You will become a Christian when your heart is touched and not +before,” answered Nehushta sharply. “That light is from +within.” +</p> + +<p> +As she spoke the bushes parted and they saw the Essene, Samuel, standing in +front of them. +</p> + +<p> +“Whom do you seek, man?” asked Nehushta, who did not know him. +</p> + +<p> +“I seek the noble Roman, Marcus,” he answered, “for whom I +have a message. Is that he?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am he,” said Marcus, “and now, who sent you and what is +your message?” +</p> + +<p> +“The Queen of the Essenes, whose name is Miriam, sent me,” replied +the man. +</p> + +<p> +Now both of them sprang to their feet. +</p> + +<p> +“What token do you bear?” asked Marcus in a slow, restrained voice, +“for know, we thought that lady dead.” +</p> + +<p> +“This,” he answered, and drawing the ring from his robe he handed +it to him, adding, “Do you acknowledge the token?” +</p> + +<p> +“I acknowledge it. There is no such other ring. Have you aught +else?” +</p> + +<p> +“I had a letter, but it is lost. The Roman soldiers robbed me of my robe +in which it was sewn, and I never saw it more. But the ring I saved by hiding +it in my mouth while they searched me.” +</p> + +<p> +Marcus groaned, but Nehushta said quickly: +</p> + +<p> +“Did she give you no message? Tell us your story and be swift.” +</p> + +<p> +So he told them all. +</p> + +<p> +“How long was this ago?” asked Nehushta. +</p> + +<p> +“Nearly five months. For a hundred and twenty days I was kept as a slave +at Jerusalem, labouring at the levelling of the walls.” +</p> + +<p> +“Five months,” said Marcus. “Tell me, do you know whether +Titus has sailed?” +</p> + +<p> +“I heard that he had departed from Alexandria on his road to Rome.” +</p> + +<p> +“Miriam will walk in his Triumph, and afterwards be sold as a slave! +Woman, there is no time to lose,” said Marcus. +</p> + +<p> +“None,” answered Nehushta; “still, there is time to thank +this faithful messenger.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ay,” said Marcus. “Man, what reward do you seek? Whatever it +be it shall be paid to you who have endured so much. Yes, it shall be paid, +though here and now I have no money.” +</p> + +<p> +“I seek no reward,” replied the Essene, “who have but +fulfilled my promise and done my duty.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yet Heaven shall reward you,” said Nehushta. “And now let us +hence to Ithiel.” +</p> + +<p> +Back they went swiftly to the caves that were occupied by the Essenes during +the rebuilding of their houses. In a little cabin that was open to the air lay +Ithiel. The old man was on his death-bed, for age, hardship, and anxiety had +done their work with him, so that now he was unable to stand, but reclined upon +a pallet awaiting his release. To him they told their story. +</p> + +<p> +“God is merciful,” he said, when he had heard it. “I feared +that she might be dead, for in the presence of so much desolation, my faith +grows weak.” +</p> + +<p> +“It may be so,” answered Marcus, “but your merciful God will +allow this maiden to be set up in the Forum at Rome and sold to the highest +bidder. It would have been better that she perished on the gate Nicanor.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps this same God,” answered Ithiel with a faint smile, +“will deliver her from that fate, as He has delivered her from many +others. Now what do you seek, my lord Marcus?” +</p> + +<p> +“I seek liberty, which hitherto you have refused to me, Ithiel. I must +travel to Rome as fast as ships and horses can carry me. I desire to be present +at that auction of the captives. At least, I am rich and can purchase +Miriam—unless I am too late.” +</p> + +<p> +“Purchase her to be your slave?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, to be my wife.” +</p> + +<p> +“She will not marry you; you are not a Christian.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, if she asks it, to set her free. Man, would it not be better that +she should fall into my hands than into those of the first passer-by who +chances to take a fancy to her face?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I think it is better,” answered Ithiel, “though who am +I that I should judge? Let the Court be summoned and at once. This matter must +be laid before them. If you should purchase her and she desires it, do you +promise that you will set her free?” +</p> + +<p> +“I promise it.” +</p> + +<p> +Ithiel looked at him strangely and said: “Good, but in the hour of +temptation, if it should come, see that you do not forget your word.” +</p> + +<p> +So the Court was called together, not the full hundred that used to sit in the +great hall, but a bare score of the survivors of the Essenes, and to them the +brother, Samuel, repeated his tale. To them also Marcus made his petition for +freedom, that he might journey to Rome with Nehushta, and if it were possible, +deliver Miriam from her bonds. Now, some of the more timid of the Essenes spoke +against the release of so valuable a hostage upon the chance of his being able +to aid Miriam, but Ithiel cried from his litter: +</p> + +<p> +“What! Would you allow our own advantage to prevail against the hope that +this maiden, who is loved by everyone of us, may be saved? Shame upon the +thought. Let the Roman go upon his errand, since we cannot.” +</p> + +<p> +So in the end they agreed to let him go, and, as he had none, even provided +money for his faring out of their scanty, secret store, trusting that he might +find opportunity to repay it in time to come. +</p> + +<p> +That night Marcus and Nehushta bade farewell to Ithiel. +</p> + +<p> +“I am dying,” said the old Essene. “Before ever you can set +foot in Rome the breath will be out of my body, and beneath the desert sand I +shall lie at peace—who desire peace. Yet, say to Miriam, my niece, that +my spirit will watch over her spirit, awaiting its coming in a land where there +are no more wars and tribulations, and that, meanwhile, I who love her bid her +to be of good cheer and to fear nothing.” +</p> + +<p> +So they parted from Ithiel and travelled upon horses to Joppa, Marcus +disguising his name and rank lest some officer among the Romans should detain +him. Here by good fortune they found a ship sailing for Alexandria, and in the +port of Alexandria a merchant vessel bound for Rhegium, in which they took +passage, none asking them who they might be. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +Upon the night of the burning of the Temple, Caleb, escaping the slaughter, was +driven with Simon the Zealot across the bridge into the Upper City, which +bridge they broke down behind them. Once he tried to return, in the mad hope +that during the confusion he might reach the gate Nicanor and, if she still +lived, rescue Miriam. But already the Romans held the head of the bridge, and +already the Jews were hacking at its timbers, so in that endeavour he failed +and in his heart made sure that Miriam had perished. So bitterly did Caleb +mourn, who, fierce and wayward as he was by nature, still loved her more than +all the world besides, that for six days or more he sought death in every +desperate adventure which came to his hand, and they were many. But death fled +him, and on the seventh day he had tidings. +</p> + +<p> +A man who was hidden among the ruins of the cloisters managed to escape to the +Upper City. From him Caleb learned that the woman, who was said to have been +found upon the roof of the gate Nicanor, had been brought before Titus, who +gave her over to the charge of a Roman captain, by whom she had been taken +without the walls. He knew no more. The story was slight enough, yet it +sufficed for Caleb, who was certain that this woman must be Miriam. From that +moment he determined to abandon the cause of the Jews, which, indeed, was now +hopeless, and to seek out Miriam, wherever she might be. Yet, search as he +would, another fifteen days went by before he could find his opportunity. +</p> + +<p> +At length Caleb was placed in charge of a watch upon the wall, and, the other +members of his company falling asleep from faintness and fatigue, contrived in +the dark to let himself down by a rope which he had secreted, dropping from the +end of it into the ditch. In this ditch he found many dead bodies, and from one +of them, that of a peasant who had died but recently, took the clothes and a +long winter cloak of sheepskins, which he exchanged for his own garments. Then, +keeping only his sword, which he hid beneath the cloak, he passed the Roman +pickets in the gloom and fled into the country. When daylight came Caleb cut +off his beard and trimmed his long hair short. After this, meeting a countryman +with a load of vegetables which he had licence to sell in the Roman camp Caleb +bought his store from him for a piece of gold, for he was well furnished with +money, promising the simple man that if he said a word of it he would find him +out and kill him. Then counterfeiting the speech and actions of a peasant, +which he, who had been brought up among them down by the banks of Jordan, well +could do, Caleb marched boldly to the nearest Roman camp and offered his wares +for sale. +</p> + +<p> +Now this camp was situated outside the gate of Gennat, not far from the tower +Hippicus. Therefore, it is not strange that although in the course of his +bargaining he made diligent inquiry as to the fate of the girl who had been +taken to the gate Nicanor, Caleb could hear nothing of her, seeing that she was +in a camp situated on the Mount of Olives, upon the other side of Jerusalem. +Baffled for that day, Caleb continued his inquiries on the next, taking a fresh +supply of vegetables, which he purchased from the same peasant, to another body +of soldiers camping in the Valley of Himnon. So he went on from day to day +searching the troops which surrounded the city, and working from the Valley of +Himnon northwards along the Valley of the Kedron, till on the tenth day he came +to a little hospital camp pitched on the slope of the hill opposite to the ruin +which once had been the Golden Gate. Here, while proffering his vegetables, he +fell into talk with the cook who was sent to chaffer with him. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” said the cook handling the basket with satisfaction, +“it is a pity, friend, that you did not bring this stuff here a while ago +when we wanted it sorely and found it hard to come by in this barren, +sword-wasted land.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why?” asked Caleb carelessly. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! because of a prisoner we had here, a girl whose sufferings had made +her sick in mind and body, and whose appetite I never knew how to tempt, for +she turned from meat, and ever asked for fish, of which, of course, we had +none, or failing that, for green food and fruits.” +</p> + +<p> +“What were her name and story?” asked Caleb. +</p> + +<p> +“As for her name I know it not. We called her Pearl-Maiden because of a +collar of pearls she wore and because also she was white and beautiful as a +pearl. Oh! beautiful indeed, and so gentle and sweet, even in her sickness, +that the roughest brute of a legionary with a broken head could not choose but +to love her. Much more then, that old bear, Gallus, who watched her as though +she were his own cub.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed? And where is this beautiful lady now? I should like to sell her +something.” +</p> + +<p> +“Gone, gone, and left us all mourning.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not dead?” said Caleb in a new voice of eager dismay, “Oh! +not dead?” +</p> + +<p> +The fat cook looked at him calmly. +</p> + +<p> +“You take a strange interest in our Pearl-Maiden, Cabbage-seller,” +he said. “And, now that I come to think of it, you are a strange-looking +man for a peasant.” +</p> + +<p> +With an effort Caleb recovered his self-command. +</p> + +<p> +“Once I was better off than I am now, friend,” he answered. +“As you know, in this country the wheel of fortune has turned rather +quick of late.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes, and left many crushed flat behind it.” +</p> + +<p> +“The reason why I am interested,” went on Caleb, taking no heed, +“is that I may have lost a fine market for my goods.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, and so you have, friend. Some days ago the Pearl-Maiden departed +to Tyre in charge of the captain, Gallus, on her way to Rome. Perhaps you would +wish to follow and sell her your onions there.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps I should,” answered Caleb. “When you Romans have +gone this seems likely to become a bad country for gardeners, since owls and +jackals do not buy fruit, and you will leave no other living thing behind +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“True,” answered the cook. “Cæsar knows how to handle a broom +and he has made a very clean sweep,” and he pointed complacently to the +heaped-up ruins of the Temple before them. “But how much for the whole +basket full?” +</p> + +<p> +“Take them, friend,” said Caleb, “and sell them to your mess +for the best price that you can get. You need not mention that you paid +nothing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! no, I won’t mention it. Good morning, Mr. Cabbage-grower, good +morning.” +</p> + +<p> +Then he stood still watching as Caleb vanished quickly among the great boles of +the olive trees. “What can stir a Jew so much,” he reflected to +himself, “as to make him give something for nothing, and especially to a +Roman? Perhaps he is Pearl-Maiden’s brother. No, that can’t be from +his eyes—her lover more likely. Well, it is no affair of mine, and +although he never grew them, the vegetables are good and fresh.” +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +That evening when Caleb, still disguised as a peasant, was travelling through +the growing twilight across the hills that bordered the road to Tyre, he heard +a mighty wailing rise from Jerusalem and knew that it was the death-cry of his +people. Now, everywhere above such portions of the beleaguered city as remained +standing, shot up tall spires and wreaths of flame. Titus had forced the walls, +and thousands upon thousands of Jews were perishing beneath the swords of his +soldiers, or in the fires of their burning homes. Still, some ninety thousand +were left alive, to be driven like cattle into the Court of Women. Here more +than ten thousand died of starvation, while some were set aside to grace the +Triumph, some to be slaughtered in the amphitheatres at Cæsarea and Berytus, +but the most were transported to Egypt, there, until they died, to labour in +the desert mines. Thus was the last desolation accomplished and the prophecy +fulfilled: “And the Lord shall bring thee into Egypt again with ships . . +. and there ye shall sell yourselves unto your enemies for bondmen and for +bondwomen, and no man shall buy you.” Thus did “Ephraim return to +Egypt,” whence he came forth to sojourn in the Promised Land until the +cup of his sin was full. Now once more that land was a desert without +inhabitants; all its pleasant places were waste; all its fenced cities +destroyed, and over their ruins and the bones of their children flew +Cæsar’s eagles. The war was ended, there was peace in Judæa. +<i>Solitudinem faciunt pacem appellant!</i> +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +When Caleb reached Tyre, by the last light of the setting sun he saw a +white-sailed galley beating her way out to sea. Entering the city, he inquired +who went in the galley and was told Gallus, a Roman captain, in charge of a +number of sick and wounded men, many of the treasures of the Temple, and a +beautiful girl, who was said to be the grand-daughter of Benoni of that town. +</p> + +<p> +Then knowing that he was too late, Caleb groaned in bitterness of spirit. +Presently, however, he took thought. Now, Caleb was wise in his generation, for +at the beginning of this long war he had sold all his land and houses for gold +and jewels, which, to a very great value, he had left hidden in Tyre in the +house of a man he trusted, an old servant of his father’s. To this store +he had added from time to time out of the proceeds of plunder, of trading, and +of the ransom of a rich Roman knight who was his captive, so that now his +wealth was great. Going to the man’s house, Caleb claimed and packed this +treasure in bales of Syrian carpets to resemble merchandise. +</p> + +<p> +Then the peasant who had travelled into Tyre upon business about a mule, was +seen no more, but in place of him appeared Demetrius, the Egyptian merchant, +who bought largely, though always at night, of the merchandise of Tyre, and +sailed with it by the first ship to Alexandria. Here this merchant bought much +more goods, such as would find a ready sale in the Roman market, enough to fill +the half of a galley, indeed, which lay in the harbour near the Pharos lading +for Syracuse and Rhegium. +</p> + +<p> +At length the galley sailed, meaning to make Crete, but was caught by a winter +storm and driven to Paphos in Cyprus, where, being afraid to attempt the seas +again, let the merchant, Demetrius, do what he would to urge them forward, the +captain and crew of the galley determined to winter. So they beached her in the +harbour and went up to the great temple, rejoicing to pay their vows and offer +gifts to Venus, who had delivered them from the fury of the seas, that they +might swell the number of her votaries. +</p> + +<p> +But although he accompanied them, since otherwise they might have suspected +that he was a Jew, Demetrius, who sought another goddess, cursed Venus in his +heart, knowing that had it not been for her delights the sailors would have +risked the weather. Still, there was no help for it and no other ship by which +he could sail, so here he abode for more than three months, spending his time +in Curium, Amathos and Salamis, trading among the rich natives of Cyprus, out +of whom he made a large profit, and adding wine, and copper from Tamasus to his +other merchandise, as much as there was room for on the ship. +</p> + +<p> +In the end after the great spring festival, for the captain said that it would +not be fortunate to leave until this had been celebrated, they set sail and +came by way of Rhodes to the Island of Crete, and thence touching at Cythera to +Syracuse in Sicily, and so at last to Rhegium. Here the merchant, Demetrius, +transhipped his goods into a vessel that was sailing to the port of Centum +Cellæ, and having reached that place hired transport to convey them to Rome, +nearly forty miles away. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap21"></a>CHAPTER XXI<br/> +THE CÆSARS AND PRINCE DOMITIAN</h2> + +<p> +When the captain Gallus reached the outskirts of Rome he halted, for he did not +desire that Miriam should be led through the streets in the daytime, and thus +cause questions to be asked concerning her. Also he sent on a messenger bidding +the man find out his wife, Julia, if she were still alive, since of this +Gallus, who had not seen her for several years, could tell nothing, and inform +her that he would be with her shortly, bringing with him a maiden who had been +placed in his charge by Titus. Before nightfall, the messenger returned, and +with him Julia herself, a woman past middle-age, but, although grey-haired, +still handsome and stately. +</p> + +<p> +Miriam saw their meeting, which was a touching sight, since this childless +couple who had been married for almost thirty years, had now been separated for +a long time. Moreover, a rumour had reached Julia that her husband was not only +wounded, but dead, wherefore her joy and thankfulness at his coming were even +greater than they would otherwise have been. One thing, however, Miriam noted, +that whereas her friend and benefactor, Gallus, held up his hands and thanked +the gods that he found his wife living and well, Julia on her part said: +</p> + +<p> +“Aye, I thank God,” touching her breast with her fingers as she +spoke the words. +</p> + +<p> +Presently the matron seemed to notice her, and, looking at her with a doubtful +eye, asked: +</p> + +<p> +“How comes it, husband, that you are in charge of this captive Jewess, if +Jewess she be who is so fair?” +</p> + +<p> +“By the orders of Titus Cæsar, wife,” he answered, “to whom +she must be delivered on his arrival. She was condemned to perish on the gate +Nicanor as a traitress to the Jews and a Nazarene.” +</p> + +<p> +Julia started and looked at the girl over her shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you of that faith, daughter?” she asked in a changed voice, +crossing her hands upon her breast as though by chance. +</p> + +<p> +“I am, mother,” answered Miriam, repeating the sign. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, well, husband,” said Julia, “the maid’s tale can +wait. Whether she was a traitress to the Jews, or a follower of Christus, is +not our affair. At least she is in your charge, and therefore welcome to +me,” and stepping to where Miriam stood with bowed head she kissed her on +the forehead, saying aloud: +</p> + +<p> +“I greet you, daughter, who are so sweet to see and in misfortune,” +adding beneath her breath, “in the Name you know.” +</p> + +<p> +Then Miriam was sure that she had fallen into the hands of a woman who was a +Christian, and was thankful in her heart, for while the Cæsars sat upon the +Roman throne the Christians of every clime, rank and race were one great +family. +</p> + +<p> +That evening, so soon as the darkness fell, they entered Rome by the Appian +Gate. Here they separated, Gallus leading his soldiers to convoy the treasure +to the safe keeping of that officer who was appointed to receive it, and +afterwards to the camp prepared for them, while Julia, with Miriam and an +escort of two men only, departed to her own home, a small dwelling in a clean +but narrow and crowded street that overhung the Tiber between the Pons Ælius +and the Porta Flamina. At the door of the house Julia dismissed the soldiers, +saying: +</p> + +<p> +“Go without fear, and take witness that I am bond for the safety of this +captive.” +</p> + +<p> +So the men went gladly enough, for they desired to rest after the toils of +their long journey, and the door of the house having been opened by a servant +and locked again behind them, Julia led Miriam across a little court to the +sitting-room that lay beyond. Hanging lamps of bronze burned in the room, and +by their light Miriam saw that it was very clean and well, though not richly, +furnished. +</p> + +<p> +“This is my own house, daughter,” she explained, “which my +father left me, where I have dwelt during all these weary years that my husband +has been absent in the wars of the East. It is a humble place, but you will +find peace and safety in it, and, I trust, comfort. Poor child,” she +added in a gentle voice, “I who am also a Christian, though as yet of +this my husband knows nothing, welcome you in the Name of the Lord.” +</p> + +<p> +“In the Name of our Lord, I thank you,” answered Miriam, “who +am but a friendless slave.” +</p> + +<p> +“Such find friends,” said Julia, “and if you will suffer it I +think that I shall be one of them.” Then at a sign from the elder woman +they knelt down, and in silence each of them put up her prayer of thanksgiving, +the wife because her husband had come back to her safe, the maiden because she +had been led to a house ruled by a woman of her own faith. +</p> + +<p> +After this they ate, a plain meal but well cooked and served. When it was done +Julia conducted Miriam to the little whitewashed chamber which had been +prepared for her. It was lighted from the court by a lattice set high in the +wall, and, like all the house, very clean and sweet, with a floor of white +marble. +</p> + +<p> +“Once another maid slept here,” said Julia with a sigh, glancing at +the white bed in the corner. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Miriam, “she was named Flavia, was she not, your +only child? Nay, do not be astonished. I have heard so much of her that I seem +to have known her well, who can be known no more—here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did Gallus tell you?” asked Julia. “He used rarely to speak +of her.” +</p> + +<p> +Miriam nodded. “Gallus told me. You see he was very good to me and we +became friends. For all that he has done, may Heaven bless him, who, although +he seems rough, has so kind a heart.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, may Heaven bless all of us, living and dead,” answered Julia. +Then she kissed Miriam and left her to her rest. +</p> + +<p> +When Miriam came out of her bedchamber on the following morning, she found +Gallus clad in his body armour, now new cleaned, though dinted with many a +blow, standing in the court and watching the water which squirted from a leaden +pipe to fall into a little basin. +</p> + +<p> +“Greeting, daughter,” he said, looking up. “I trust that you +have rested well beneath my roof who have sojourned so long in tents.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well,” she answered, adding, “If I might ask it, why do +you wear your mail here in peaceful Rome?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because I am summoned to have an audience of Cæsar, now within an +hour.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is Titus come, then?” she asked hurriedly. +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, nay, not Titus Cæsar, but Vespasian Cæsar, his father, to whom I +must make report of all that was passing in Judæa when we left, of the treasure +that I brought with me and—of yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! Gallus,” said Miriam, “will he take me away from your +charge?” +</p> + +<p> +“I know not. I hope not. But who can say? It is as his fancy may move +him. But if he listens to me I swear that you shall stay here for ever; be sure +of that.” +</p> + +<p> +Then he went, leaning on a spear shaft, for the wound in his leg had caused it +to shrink so much that he could never hope to be sound again. +</p> + +<p> +Three hours later he returned to find the two women waiting for him anxiously +enough. Julia glanced at his face as he came through the door of the street +wall into the vestibulum or courtyard where they were waiting. +</p> + +<p> +“Have no fear,” she said. “When Gallus looks so solemn he +brings good tidings, for if they are bad he smiles and makes light of +them,” and advancing she took him by the hand and led him past the +porter’s room into the atrium. +</p> + +<p> +“What news, husband?” she asked when the door was shut behind them +so that none might overhear their talk. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” he answered, “first, my fighting days are over, since +I am discharged the army, the physicians declaring that my leg will never be +well again. Wife, why do you not weep?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because I rejoice,” answered Julia calmly. “Thirty years of +war and bloodshed are enough for any man. You have done your work. It is time +that you should rest who have been spared so long, and at least I have saved +while you were away, and there will be food to fill our mouths.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes, wife, and as it happens, more than you think, since Vespasian, +being gracious and pleased with my report, has granted me half-pay for all my +life, to say nothing of a gratuity and a share of the spoil, whatever that may +bring. Still I grieve, who can never hope to lift spear more.” +</p> + +<p> +“Grieve not, for thus I would have had it, Gallus. But what of this +maid?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I made my report about her, as I was bound to do, and at first +Domitian, Cæsar’s son, being curious to see her, prompted Vespasian to +order that she should be brought to the palace. Almost Cæsar spoke the word, +then a thought seemed to strike him and he was silent, whereon I said that she +had been very sick and still needed care and nursing, and that if it was his +will, my wife could tend her until such time as Titus Cæsar, whose spoil she +was, might arrive. Again Domitian interrupted, but Vespasian answered, +‘The Jewish maid is not your slave, Domitian, or my slave. She is the +slave of your brother, Titus. Let her bide with this worthy officer until Titus +comes, he being answerable in his person and his goods that she shall then be +produced before him, she or proof of her death.’ Then, waving his hand to +show that the matter was done with, he went on to speak of other things, +demanding details of the capture of the Temple and comparing my list of the +vessels and other gear with that which was furnished by the treasurer, into +whose charge I handed them yesternight. So, Maid Miriam, till Titus comes you +are safe.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” answered Miriam with a sigh, “till Titus comes. But +after that—what?” +</p> + +<p> +“The gods alone know,” he said impatiently. “Meanwhile, since +my head is on it, I must ask your word of you that you will attempt no +flight.” +</p> + +<p> +“I give it, Gallus,” she answered smiling, “who would die +rather than bring evil on you or yours. Also, whither should I fly?” +</p> + +<p> +“I know not. But you Christians find many friends: the rats themselves +have fewer hiding-places. Still, I trust you, and henceforth you are free, till +Titus comes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye,” repeated Miriam, “—till Titus comes.” +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +So for hard upon six months, till midsummer, indeed, Miriam dwelt in the house +of Gallus and his wife, Julia. She was not happy, although to them she became +as a daughter. Who could be happy even in the sunshine of a peaceful present, +that walked her world between two such banks of shadow? Behind was the shadow +of the terrible past; in front, black and forbidding, rose the shadow of the +future, which might be yet more terrible, the future when she would be the +slave of some man unknown. Sometimes walking with Julia, humbly dressed and +mingling with the crowd, her head-dress arranged to hide her face as much as +might be, she saw the rich lords of Rome go by in chariots, on horseback, in +litters, all sorts and conditions of them, fat, proud men with bold eyes; +hard-faced statesmen or lawyers; war-worn, cruel-looking captains; dissolute +youths with foppish dress and perfumed hair, and shuddering, wondered whether +she was appointed to any one of these. Or was it, perhaps, to that rich and +greasy tradesman, or to yon low-born freedman with a cunning leer? She knew +not, God alone knew, and in Him must be her trust. +</p> + +<p> +Once as Miriam was walking thus, gorgeously clad slaves armed with rods of +office appeared, bursting a way through the crowded streets to an accompaniment +of oaths and blows. After these came lictors bearing the fasces on their +shoulders; then a splendid chariot drawn by white horses, and driven by a +curled and scented charioteer. In it, that he might be the better seen, stood a +young man, tall, ruddy-faced, and clad in royal attire, who looked downward as +though from bashfulness, but all the while scanned the crowd out of the corners +of his dim blue eyes shaded by lids devoid of lashes. For a moment Miriam felt +those eyes rest upon her, and knew that she was the subject of some jest which +their owner addressed to the exquisite charioteer, causing him to laugh. Then a +horror of that man took hold of her, and when he had gone by, bowing in answer +to the shouts of the people, who, as it seemed to her, cheered from fear and +not with joy, she asked Julia who he might be. +</p> + +<p> +“Who but Domitian,” she answered, “the son of one Cæsar and +the brother of another, who hates both and would like to wear their crown. He +is an evil man, and if he should chance to cross your path, beware of him, +Miriam.” +</p> + +<p> +Miriam shuddered and said: +</p> + +<p> +“As well, mother, might you bid the mouse that is caught abroad to beware +of the cat it meets at night.” +</p> + +<p> +“Some mice find holes that cats cannot pass,” answered Julia with +meaning as they turned their faces homeward. +</p> + +<p> +During all this time, although Gallus made diligent inquiry among the soldiers +who arrived from Judæa, Miriam could hear nothing of Marcus, so that at last +she came to believe that he must be dead, and with him the beloved and faithful +Nehushta, and to hope that if this were so she also might be taken. Still +amongst all this trouble she had one great comfort. Under the mild rule of +Vespasian, although their meeting-places were known, the Christians had peace +for a while. Therefore, in company with Julia and many others of the +brotherhood, she was able to visit the catacombs on the Appian Way by night, +and there in those dismal, endless tombs to offer prayer and receive the +ministrations of the Church. The great Apostles, St. Peter and St. Paul, had +suffered martyrdom, indeed, but they had left many teachers behind them, and +the chief of these soon grew to know and love the poor Jewish captive who was +doomed to slavery. Therefore here also she found friends and consolation of +spirit. +</p> + +<p> +In time Gallus came to learn that his wife was also of the Faith, and for a +while this knowledge seemed to cast him down. In the end, however, he shrugged +his shoulders and said that she was certainly of an age to judge for herself +and that he trusted no harm might come of it. Indeed, when the principles of +the Christian hope were explained to him, he listened to them eagerly enough, +who had lost his only child, and until now had never heard this strange story +of resurrection and eternal life. Still, although he listened, and even from +time to time was present when the brethren prayed, he would not be baptised, +who said that he was too sunk in years to throw incense on a new altar. +</p> + +<p> +At length Titus came, the Senate, which long before his arrival had decreed him +a Triumph, meeting him outside the walls, and there, after some ancient +formalities communicating to him their decision. Moreover, it was arranged that +Vespasian, his father, should share in this Triumph, because of the great deeds +which he had done in Egypt, so that it was said everywhere that this would be +the most splendid ceremony which Rome had ever seen. After this Titus passed to +his palace and there lived privately for several weeks, resting while the +preparations for the great event went forward. +</p> + +<p> +One morning early Gallus was summoned to the palace, whence he returned rubbing +his hands and trying to look pleased, with him, as Julia had said, a sure sign +of evil tidings. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it, husband?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! nothing, nothing,” he answered, “except that our +Pearl-Maiden here must accompany me after the mid-day meal into the august +presences of Vespasian and Titus. The Cæsars wish to see her, that they may +decide where she is to walk in the procession. If she is held to be beautiful +enough, they will grant to her a place of honour, by herself. Do you hear that, +wife—by herself, not far in front of the very chariot of Titus? As for +the dress that she will wear,” he went on nervously, since neither of his +auditors seemed delighted with this news, “it is to be splendid, quite +splendid, all of the purest white silk with little discs of silver sewn about +it, and a representation of the Gate Nicanor worked in gold thread upon the +breast of the robe.” +</p> + +<p> +At this tidings Miriam broke down and began to weep. +</p> + +<p> +“Dry your tears, girl,” he said roughly, although the thickness of +his voice suggested that water and his own eyes were not far apart. “What +must be, must be, and now is the time for that God you worship to show you some +mark of favour. Surely, He should do so, seeing how long and how often you pray +to Him in burrows that a jackal would turn from.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think He will,” answered Miriam, ceasing her sobs with a bold +up-lifting of her soul towards the light of perfect faith. +</p> + +<p> +“I am sure He will,” added Julia, gently stroking Miriam’s +dark and curling hair. +</p> + +<p> +“Then,” broke in Gallus, driving the point to its logical +conclusion, “what have you to fear? A long, hot walk through the shouting +populace, who will do no harm to one so lovely, and after that, whatever good +fate your God may choose for you. Come, let us eat, that you may look your best +when you appear before the Cæsars.” +</p> + +<p> +“I would rather look my worst,” said Miriam, bethinking her of +Domitian and his bleared eyes. Still, to please Gallus, she tried to eat, and +afterwards, accompanied by him and by Julia, was carried in a closed litter to +the palace. +</p> + +<p> +Too soon she was there, arriving a little before them, and was helped from the +litter by slaves wearing the Imperial livery. Now she found herself alone in a +great marble court filled with officers and nobles awaiting audience. +</p> + +<p> +“That is the Pearl-Maiden,” said one of them, whereon they all +crowded around her, criticising her aloud in their idle curiosity. +</p> + +<p> +“Too short,” said one. “Too thin,” said another. +“Too small in the foot for her ankle,” said a third. +“Fools,” broke in a fourth, a young man with a fine figure and dark +rings round his eyes, “what is the use of trying to cheapen this piece of +goods thus in the eyes of the experienced? I say that this Pearl-Maiden is as +perfect as those pearls about her own neck; on a small scale, perhaps, but +quite perfect, and you will admit that I ought to know.” +</p> + +<p> +“Lucius says that she is perfect,” remarked one of them in a tone +of acquiescence, as though that verdict settled the matter. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” went on the critical Lucius, “now, to take one thing +only, a point so often overlooked. Observe how fresh and firm her flesh is. +When I press it thus,” and he suited the action to the word, “as I +thought, my finger leaves scarcely any mark.” +</p> + +<p> +“But my arm does,” said a gruff voice beside him, and next moment +this scented judge of human beings received the point of the elbow of Gallus +between the eyes just where the nose is set into the forehead. With such force +and skill was the blow directed that next instant the critic was sprawling on +his back upon the pavement, the blood gushing from his nostrils. Now most of +them laughed, but some murmured, while Gallus said: +</p> + +<p> +“Way there, friends, way there! I am charged to deliver this lady to the +Cæsars and to certify that while she was in my care no man has so much as laid +a finger on her. Way there, I pray you! And as for that whimpering puppy on his +back, if he wishes it, he knows where to find Gallus. My sword will mark him +worse than my elbow, if he wants blood-letting, that I swear.” +</p> + +<p> +Now with jests and excuses they fell back one and all. There were few of them +who did not know that, lame as he might be now, old Gallus was still the +fiercest and most dreaded swordsman of his legion. Indeed he was commonly +reported to have slain eighteen men in single combat, and when young even to +have faced the most celebrated gladiator of the day for sport, or to win a +private bet, and given him life as he lay at his mercy. +</p> + +<p> +So they passed on through long halls guarded by soldiers, till at length they +came to a wide passage closed with splendid curtains, where the officer on duty +asked them their business. Gallus told him and he vanished through the +curtains, whence he returned presently, beckoning them to advance. They +followed him down a corridor set with busts of departed emperors and empresses, +to find themselves in a round marble chamber, very cool and lighted from above. +In this chamber sat and stood three men: Vespasian, whom they knew by his +strong, quiet face and grizzled hair; Titus, his son, “the darling of +mankind,” thin, active, and æsthetic-looking, with eyes that were not +unkindly, a sarcastic smile playing about the corners of his mouth; and +Domitian, his brother, who has already been described, a man taller than either +of them by half a head, and more gorgeously attired. In front of the august +three was a master of ceremonies clad in a dark-coloured robe, who was showing +them drawings of various sections of the triumphal procession, and taking their +orders as to such alterations as they wished. +</p> + +<p> +Also there were present, a treasurer, some officers and two or three of the +intimate friends of Titus. +</p> + +<p> +Vespasian looked up. +</p> + +<p> +“Greeting, worthy Gallus,” he said in the friendly, open voice of +one who has spent his life in camps, “and to your wife, Julia, greeting +also. So that is the Pearl-Maiden of whom we have heard so much talk. Well, I +do not pretend to be a judge of beauty, still I say that this Jewish captive +does not belie her name. Titus, do you recognise her?” +</p> + +<p> +“In truth, no, father. When last I saw her she was a sooty, withered +little thing whom Gallus yonder carried in his great arms, as a child might +carry a large doll that he had rescued from the fire. Yes, I agree that she is +beautiful and worthy of a very good place in the procession. Also she should +fetch a large price afterwards, for that necklace of pearls goes with +her—make a note of this, Scribe—and the reversion to considerable +property in Tyre and elsewhere. This, by special favour, she will be allowed to +inherit from her grandfather, the old rabbi, Benoni, one of the Sanhedrim, who +perished in the burning of the Temple.” +</p> + +<p> +“How can a slave inherit property, son?” asked Vespasian, raising +his eyebrows. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know,” answered Titus with a laugh. “Perhaps +Domitian can tell you. He says that he has studied law. But so I have +decreed.” +</p> + +<p> +“A slave,” interrupted Domitian wisely, “has no rights and +can hold no property, but the Cæsar of the East”—here he +sneered—“can declare that certain lands and goods will pass to the +highest bidder with the person of the slave, and this, Vespasian Cæsar, my +father, is what I understand Titus Cæsar, my brother, has thought it good to do +in the present instance.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Titus in a quiet voice, though his face flushed, +“that, Domitian, is what I have thought it good to do. In such a matter +is not my will enough?” +</p> + +<p> +“Conqueror of the East,” replied Domitian, “Thrower-down of +the mountain stronghold called Jerusalem, to which the topless towers of Ilium +were as nothing, and Exterminator of a large number of misguided fanatics, in +what matter is not your will enough? Yet a boon, O Cæsar. As you are great, be +generous,” and with a mocking gesture he bowed the knee to Titus. +</p> + +<p> +“What boon do you seek of me, brother, who know that all I have is, +or,” he added slowly, “will be—yours?” +</p> + +<p> +“One that is already granted by your precious words, Titus. Of all you +have, which is much, I seek only this Pearl-Maiden, who has taken my fancy. The +girl only, not her property in Tyre, wherever that may be, which you can keep +for yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +Vespasian looked up, but before he could speak, Titus answered quickly: +</p> + +<p> +“I said, Domitian, ‘all I have.’ This maid I have not, +therefore the words do not apply. I have decreed that the proceeds of the sale +of these captives is to be divided equally between the wounded soldiers and the +poor of Rome. Therefore she is their property, not mine. I will not rob +them.” +</p> + +<p> +“Virtuous man! No wonder that the legions love him who cannot withdraw +one lot from a sale of thousands, even to please an only brother,” +soliloquised Domitian. +</p> + +<p> +“If you wish for the maid,” went on Titus, taking no heed of the +insult, “the markets are open—buy her. It is my last word.” +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly Domitian grew angry, the false modesty left his face, his tall form +straightened itself, and he stared round with his blear, evil-looking eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“I appeal,” he shouted, “I appeal from Cæsar the Small to +Cæsar the Great, from the murderer of a brave barbarian tribe to the conqueror +of the world. O Cæsar, Titus here declared that all he has is mine. Yet when I +ask him for the gift of one captive girl he refuses me. Command, I pray you, +that he should keep his word.” +</p> + +<p> +Now the officers and the secretaries looked up, for of a sudden this small +matter had become very important. For long the quarrel between Titus and his +jealous brother had smouldered, now over the petty question of a captive it had +broken into flame. +</p> + +<p> +The face of Titus grew hard and stern as that of some statue of the offended +Jove. +</p> + +<p> +“Command, I pray you, father,” he said, “that my brother +should cease to offer insult to me. Command also that he should cease to +question my will and my authority in matters great or small that are within my +rule. Since you are appealed to as Cæsar, as Cæsar judge, not of this thing +only but of all, for there is much between him and me that needs to be made +plain.” +</p> + +<p> +Vespasian looked round him uneasily, but seeing no escape and that beneath the +quarrel lay issues which were deep and wide, he spoke out in his brave, +simple-minded fashion. +</p> + +<p> +“Sons,” he said, “seeing that there are but two of you who +together, or one after the other, must inherit the world, it is an evil-omened +thing that you should quarrel thus, since on the chances of your enmity may +hang your own fates and the fates of peoples. Be reconciled, I pray you. Is +there not enough for both? As for the matter in hand—this is my judgment. +With all the spoils of Judæa, this fair maid is the property of Titus. Titus, +whose boast it is that he does not go back upon his word, has decreed that she +shall be sold and her price divided between the sick soldiers and the poor. +Therefore she is no longer his to give away, even to his brother. With Titus I +say—if you desire the girl, Domitian, bid your agent buy her in the +market.” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye, I will buy her,” snarled Domitian, “but this I swear, +that soon or late Titus shall pay the price and one that he will be loth to +give.” Then followed by his secretary and an officer, he turned and left +the audience hall. +</p> + +<p> +“What does he mean?” asked Vespasian, looking after him with +anxious eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“He means that——” and Titus checked himself. +“Well, time and my destiny will show the world what he means. So be it. +As for you, Pearl-Maiden, who, though you know it not, have cost Cæsar so dear, +well, you are fairer than I thought, and shall have the best of places in the +pageant. Yet, for your sake, I pray that one may be found who, when you come to +the market-place, may outbid Domitian,” and he waved his hand to show +that the audience was at an end. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap22"></a>CHAPTER XXII<br/> +THE TRIUMPH</h2> + +<p> +Another week went by and the eve of the Triumph was at hand. On the afternoon +before the great day sewing-women had come to the house of Gallus, bringing +with them the robe that Miriam must wear. As had been promised, it was +splendid, of white silk covered with silver discs and having the picture of the +gate Nicanor fashioned on the breast, but cut so low that it shamed Miriam to +put it on. +</p> + +<p> +“It is naught, it is naught,” said Julia. “The designer has +made it thus that the multitude may see those pearls from which you take your +name.” But to herself she thought: “Oh! monstrous age, and +monstrous men, whose eyes can delight in the disgrace of a poor unfriended +maiden. Surely the cup of iniquity of my people is full, and they shall drink +it to the dregs!” +</p> + +<p> +That same afternoon also came an assistant of the officer, who was called the +Marshal, with orders to Gallus as to when and where he was to deliver over his +charge upon the morrow. With him he brought a packet, which, when opened, +proved to contain a splendid golden girdle, fashioned to the likeness of a +fetter. The clasp was an amethyst, and round it were cut these words: +“The gift of Domitian to her who to-morrow shall be his.” +</p> + +<p> +Miriam threw the thing from her as though it were a snake. +</p> + +<p> +“I will not wear it,” she said. “I say that I will not wear +it; at least to-day I am my own,” while Julia groaned and Gallus cursed +beneath his breath. +</p> + +<p> +Knowing her sore plight, that evening there came to visit her one of the elders +of the Christian Church in Rome, a bishop named Cyril, who had been the friend +and disciple of the Apostle Peter. To him the poor girl poured out all the +agony of her heart. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! my father, my father in Christ,” she said, “I swear to +you that were I not of our holy faith, rather than endure this shame I would +slay myself to-night! Other dangers have I passed, but they have been of the +body alone, whereas this——. Pity me and tell me, you in whose ear +God speaks, tell me, what must I do?” +</p> + +<p> +“Daughter,” answered the grave and gentle man, “you must +trust in God. Did He not save you in the house at Tyre? Did He not save you in +the streets of Jerusalem? Did He not save you on the gate Nicanor?” +</p> + +<p> +“He did,” answered Miriam. +</p> + +<p> +“Aye, daughter, and so shall He save you in the slave-market of Rome. I +have a message for your ear, and it is that no shame shall come near to you. +Tread your path, drink your cup, and fear nothing, for the Lord shall send His +angel to protect you until such time as it pleases Him to take you to +Himself.” +</p> + +<p> +Miriam looked at him, and as she looked peace fell upon her soul and shone in +her soft eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“I hear the word of the Lord spoken through the mouth of His +messenger,” she said, “and henceforth I will strive to fear +nothing, no, not even Domitian.” +</p> + +<p> +“Least of all Domitian, daughter, that son of Satan, whom Satan shall pay +in his own coin.” +</p> + +<p> +Then going to the door he summoned Julia, and while Gallus watched without, the +two of them prayed long and earnestly with Miriam. When their prayer was +finished the bishop rose, blessed her, and bade her farewell. +</p> + +<p> +“I leave you, daughter,” he said, “but though you see him +not, another takes my place. Do you believe?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have said that I believe,” murmured Miriam. +</p> + +<p> +Indeed, in those days when men still lived who had seen the Christ and His +voice still echoed through the world, to the strong faith of His followers, it +was not hard to credit that His angel did descend to earth to protect and save +at their Master’s bidding. +</p> + +<p> +So Cyril, the bishop, went, and that night from many a catacomb prayers rose up +to Heaven for Miriam in her peril. That night also she slept peacefully. +</p> + +<p> +Two hours before the dawn, Julia awoke her and arrayed her in the glittering, +hateful garments. When all was ready, with tears she bade her farewell. +</p> + +<p> +“Child, child,” she said, “you have become to me as my own +daughter was, and now I know not how and when we shall meet again.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps sooner than you think,” Miriam answered. “But if +not, if, indeed, I speak to you for the last time, why, then, my blessings on +you who have played a mother’s part to a helpless maid that was no kin of +yours. Yes, and on you Gallus also, who have kept me safe through so many +dangers.” +</p> + +<p> +“And who hopes, dear one, to keep you safe through many more. Since I may +not swear by the gods before you, I swear it by the Eagles that Domitian will +do well to have a care how he deals by you. To him I owe no fealty and, as has +been proved before to-day, the sword of vengeance can reach the heart of +princes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye, Gallus,” said Miriam gently, “but let it not be your +sword, nor, I trust, shall you need to think of vengeance.” +</p> + +<p> +Then the litter was brought into the courtyard, with the guards that were sent +to accompany it, and they started for the gathering-place beyond the Triumphal +Way. Dark though it still was, all Rome was astir. On every side shone torches, +from every house and street rose the murmur of voices, for the mighty city made +herself ready to celebrate the greatest festival which her inhabitants had +seen. Even now at times the press was so dense that the soldiers were obliged +to force a way through the crowd, which poured outwards to find good places +along the line of the Triumph, or to take up their station on stands of timber, +and in houses they had hired, whose roofs, balconies and windows commanded the +path of the pageant. +</p> + +<p> +They crossed the Tiber. This Miriam knew by the roar of the water beneath, and +because the crush upon the narrow bridge was so great. Thence she was borne +along through country comparatively open, to the gateways of some large +building, where she was ordered to dismount from the litter. Here officers were +waiting who took charge of her, giving to Gallus a written receipt for her +person. Then, either because he would not trust himself to bid her farewell, or +because he did not think it wise to do so in the presence of the officers, +Gallus turned and left her without a word. +</p> + +<p> +“Come on, girl,” said a man, but a secretary, looking up from his +tablets, called to him: +</p> + +<p> +“Gently there with that lot, or you will hear about it. She is +Pearl-Maiden, the captive who made the quarrel between the Cæsars and Domitian, +of which all Rome is talking. Gently, I tell you, gently, for many free +princesses are worth less to-day.” +</p> + +<p> +Hearing this, the man bowed to Miriam, almost with reverence, and begged her to +follow him to a place that had been set apart for her. She obeyed, passing +through a great number of people, of whom all she could see in the gloom of the +breaking dawn was that, like herself, they were captives, to a little chamber +where she was left alone watching the light grow through the lattice, and +listening to the hum of voices that rose without, mingled now and again with +sobs and wails of grief. Presently the door opened and a servant entered with +bread on a platter and milk in an earthenware vessel. These she took +thankfully, knowing that she would need food to support her during the long +day, but scarcely had she begun to eat when a slave appeared clad in the +imperial livery, and bearing a tray of luxurious meats served in silver +vessels. +</p> + +<p> +“Pearl-Maiden,” he said, “my master, Domitian, sends you +greeting and this present. The vessels are your own, and will be kept for you, +but he bids me add, that to-night you shall sup off dishes of gold.” +</p> + +<p> +Miriam made no answer, though one rose to her lips; but after the man had +departed, with her foot she overset the tray so that the silver vases fell +clattering to the floor, where the savory meats were spilled. Then she went on +eating the bread and milk till her hunger was satisfied. +</p> + +<p> +Scarcely had she finished her meal, when an officer entered the cell and led +her out into a great square, where she was marshalled amongst many other +prisoners. By now the sun was up and she saw before her a splendid building, +and gathered below the building all the Senate of Rome in their robes, and many +knights on horses, and nobles, and princes from every country with their +retinues—a very wonderful and gallant sight. In front of the building +were cloisters, before which were set two ivory chairs, while to right and left +of these chairs, as far as the eye could reach, were drawn up thousand upon +thousands of soldiers; the Senate, the Knights and the Princes, as she could +see from the rising ground whereon she stood, being in front of them and of the +chairs. Presently from the cloisters, clad in garments of silk and wearing +crowns of laurel, appeared the Cæsars, Vespasian and Titus, attended by +Domitian and their staffs. As they came the soldiers saw them and set up a +mighty triumphant shout which sounded like the roar of the sea, that endured +while the Cæsars sat themselves upon their thrones. Up and up went the sound of +the continual shouting, till at length Vespasian rose and lifted his hand. +</p> + +<p> +Then silence fell and, covering his head with his cloak, he seemed to make some +prayer, after which Titus also covered his head with his cloak and offered a +prayer. This done, Vespasian addressed the soldiers, thanking them for their +bravery and promising them rewards, whereon they shouted again until they were +marched off to the feast that had been made ready. Now the Cæsars vanished and +the officers began to order the great procession, of which Miriam could see +neither the beginning nor the end. All she knew was that before her in lines +eight wide were marshalled two thousand or more Jewish prisoners bound together +with ropes, among whom, immediately in front of her, were a few women. Next she +came, walking by herself, and behind her, also walking by himself, a dark, +sullen-looking man, clad in a white robe and a purple cloak, with a gilded +chain about his neck. +</p> + +<p> +Looking at him she wondered where she had seen his face, which seemed familiar +to her. Then there rose before her mind a vision of the Court of the Sanhedrim +sitting in the cloisters of the Temple, and of herself standing there before +them. She remembered that this man was seated next to that Simeon who had been +so bitter against her and pronounced upon her the cruel sentence of death, also +that some one in the crowd had addressed him as Simon, the son of Gioras, none +other than the savage general whom the Jews had admitted into the city to make +way upon the Zealot, John of Gischala. From that day to this she had heard +nothing of him till now they met again, the judge and the victim, caught in a +common net. Presently, in the confusion they were brought together and he knew +her. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you Miriam, the grand-daughter of Benoni?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I am Miriam,” she answered, “whom you, Simon, and your +fellows doomed to a cruel death, but who have been +preserved——” +</p> + +<p> +“——To walk in a Roman Triumph. Better that you had died, +maiden, at the hands of your own people.” +</p> + +<p> +“Better that you had died, Simon, at your own hands, or at those of the +Romans.” +</p> + +<p> +“That I am about to do,” he replied bitterly. “Fear not, +woman, you will be avenged.” +</p> + +<p> +“I ask no vengeance,” she answered. “Nay, cruel as you are I +grieve that you, a great captain, should have come to this.” +</p> + +<p> +“I grieve also, maiden. Your grandsire, old Benoni, chose the better +part.” +</p> + +<p> +Then the soldiers separated them and they spoke no more. +</p> + +<p> +An hour passed and the procession began its march along the Triumphal Way. Of +it Miriam could see little. All she knew was that in front there were ranks of +fettered prisoners, while behind men carried upon trays and tables the golden +vessels of the Temple, the seven-branched candlestick and the ancient sacred +book of the Jewish law. They were followed by other men, who bore aloft images +of victory in ivory and gold. Then, although these did not join them till they +reached the Porta Triumphalis, or the Gate of Pomp, attended, each of them, by +lictors having their fasces wreathed with laurel, came the Cæsars. First went +Vespasian Cæsar, the father. He rode in a splendid golden chariot, to which +were harnessed four white horses led by Libyan soldiers. Behind him stood a +slave clad in a dull robe, set there to avert the influence of the evil eye and +of the envious gods, who held a crown above the head of the Imperator, and now +and again whispered in his ear the ominous words, <i>Respice post te, hominem +memento te</i> (“Look back at me and remember thy mortality.”) +</p> + +<p> +After Vespasian Cæsar, the father, came Titus Cæsar, the son, but his chariot +was of silver, and graved upon its front was a picture of the Holy House of the +Jews melting in the flames. Like his father he was attired in the <i>toga +picta</i> and <i>tunica palmata</i>, the gold-embroidered over-robe and the +tunic laced with silver leaves, while in his right hand he held a laurel bough, +and in his left a sceptre. He also was attended by a slave who whispered in his +ear the message of mortality. +</p> + +<p> +Next to the chariot of Titus, alongside of it indeed, and as little behind as +custom would allow, rode Domitian, gloriously arrayed and mounted on a splendid +steed. Then came the tribunes and the knights on horseback, and after them the +legionaries to the number of five thousand, every man of them having his spear +wreathed in laurel. +</p> + +<p> +Now the great procession was across the Tiber, and, following its appointed +path down broad streets and past palaces and temples, drew slowly towards its +object, the shrine of Jupiter Capitolinus, that stood at the head of the Sacred +Way beyond the Forum. Everywhere the side paths, the windows of houses, the +great scaffoldings of timber, and the steps of temples were crowded with +spectators. Never before did Miriam understand how many people could inhabit a +single city. They passed them by thousands and by tens of thousands, and still, +far as the eye could reach, stretched the white sea of faces. Ahead that sea +would be quiet, then, as the procession pierced it, it began to murmur. +Presently the murmur grew to a shout, the shout to a roar, and when the Cæsars +appeared in their glittering chariots, the roar to a triumphant peal which +shook the street like thunder. And so on for miles and miles, till +Miriam’s eyes were dim with the glare and glitter, and her head swam at +the ceaseless sound of shouting. +</p> + +<p> +Often the procession would halt for a while, either because of a check to one +of the pageants in front, or in order that some of its members might refresh +themselves with drink which was brought to them. Then the crowd, ceasing from +its cheers, would make jokes, and criticise whatever person or thing they +chanced to be near. Greatly did they criticise Miriam in this fashion, or at +the least she thought so, who must listen to it all. Most of them, she found, +knew her by her name of Pearl-Maiden, and pointed out to each other the +necklace about her throat. Many, too, had heard something of her story, and +looked eagerly at the picture of the gate Nicanor blazoned upon her breast. But +the greater part concerned themselves only with her delicate beauty, passing +from mouth to mouth the gossip concerning Domitian, his quarrel with the +Cæsars, and the intention which he had announced of buying this captive at the +public sale. Always it was the same talk; sometimes more brutal and open than +others—that was the only difference. +</p> + +<p> +Once they halted thus in the street of palaces through which they passed near +to the Baths of Agrippa. Here the endless comments began again, but Miriam +tried to shut her ears to it and looked about her. To her left was a +noble-looking house built of white marble, but she noticed that its shutters +were closed, also that it was undecorated with garlands, and idly wondered why. +Others wondered too, for when they had wearied of discussing her points, she +heard one plebeian ask another whose house that was and why it had been shut up +upon this festal day. His fellow answered that he could not remember the +owner’s name, but he was a rich noble who had fallen in the Jewish wars, +and that the palace was closed because it was not yet certain who was his heir. +</p> + +<p> +At that moment her attention was distracted by a sound of groans and laughter +coming from behind. She looked round to see that the wretched Jewish general, +Simon, had sunk fainting to the ground, overcome by the heat, or the terrors of +his mind, or by the sufferings which he was forced to endure at the hands of +his cruel guards, who flogged him as he walked, for the pleasure of the people. +Now they were beating him to life again with their rods; hence the laughter of +the audience and the groans of the victim. Sick at heart, Miriam turned away +from this horrid sight, to hear a tall man, whose back was towards her, but who +was clad in the rich robes of an Eastern merchant, asking one of the marshals +of the Triumph, in a foreign accent, whether it was true that the captive +Pearl-Maiden was to be sold that evening in the auction-mart of the Forum. The +marshal answered yes, such were the orders as regarded her and the other women, +since there was no convenient place to house them, and it was thought best to +be rid of them and let their masters take them home at once. +</p> + +<p> +“Does she please you, sir? Are you going to bid?” he added. +“If so, you will find yourself in high company.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps, perhaps,” answered the man with a shrug of his shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +Then he vanished into the crowd. +</p> + +<p> +Now, for the first time that day, Miriam’s spirit seemed to fail her. The +weariness of her body, the foul talk, the fouler cruelty, the cold discussion +of the sale of human beings to the first-comer as though they were sheep or +swine, the fear of her fate that night, pressed upon and overcame her mind, so +that she felt inclined, like Simon, the son of Gioras, to sink fainting to the +pavement and lie there till the cruel rods beat her to her feet again. Hope +sank low and faith grew dim, while in her heart she wondered vaguely what was +the meaning of it all, and why poor men and women were made to suffer thus for +the pleasure of other men and women; wondered also what escape there could be +for her. +</p> + +<p> +While she mused thus, like a ray of light through the clouds, a sense of +consolation, sweet as it was sudden, seemed to pierce the darkness of her +bitter thoughts. She knew not whence it came, nor what it might portend, yet it +existed, and the source of it seemed near to her. She scanned the faces of the +crowd, finding pity in a few, curiosity in more, but in most gross admiration +if they were men, or scorn of her misfortune and jealousy of her loveliness if +they were women. Not from among these did that consolation flow. She looked up +to the sky, half expecting to see there that angel of the Lord into whose +keeping the bishop, Cyril, had delivered her. But the skies were empty and +brazen as the faces of the Roman crowd; not a cloud could be seen in them, much +less an angel. +</p> + +<p> +As her eyes sank earthwards their glance fell upon one of the windows of the +marble house to her left. If she remembered right some few minutes before the +shutters of that window had been closed, now they were open, revealing two +heavy curtains of blue embroidered silk. Miriam thought this strange, and, +without seeming to do so, kept her eyes fixed upon the curtains. Presently, for +her sight was good, she saw fingers between them—long, dark-coloured +fingers. Then very slowly the curtains were parted, and in the opening thus +made appeared a face, the face of an old woman, dark and noble looking and +crowned with snow-white hair. Even at that distance Miriam knew it in an +instant. +</p> + +<p> +Oh, Heaven! it was the face of Nehushta, Nehushta whom she thought dead, or at +least for ever lost. For a moment Miriam was paralysed, wondering whether this +was not some vision born of the turmoil and excitement of that dreadful day. +Nay, surely it was no vision, surely it was Nehushta herself who looked at her +with loving eyes, for see! she made the sign of the cross in the air before +her, the symbol of Christian hope and greeting, then laid her finger upon her +lips in token of secrecy and silence. The curtain closed and she was gone, who +not five seconds before had so mysteriously appeared. +</p> + +<p> +Miriam’s knees gave way beneath her, and while the marshals shouted to +the procession to set forward, she felt that she must sink to the ground. +Indeed, she would have fallen had not some woman in the crowd stepped forward +and thrust a goblet of wine into her hands, saying: +</p> + +<p> +“Drink that, Pearl-Maiden, it will make your pale cheeks even prettier +than they are.” +</p> + +<p> +The words were coarse, but Miriam, looking at the woman, knew her for one of +the Christian community with whom she had worshipped in the catacombs. So she +took the cup, fearing nothing, and drank it off. Then new strength came to her, +and she went forward with the others on that toilsome, endless march. +</p> + +<p> +At length, however, it did end, an hour or so before sunset. They had passed +miles of streets; they had trodden the Sacred Way bordered by fanes innumerable +and adorned with statues set on columns; and now marched up the steep slope +that was crowned by the glorious temple of Jupiter Capitolinus. As they began +to climb it guards broke into their lines, and seizing the chain that hung +about the neck of Simon, dragged him away. +</p> + +<p> +“Whither do they take you?” asked Miriam as he passed her. +</p> + +<p> +“To what I desire—death,” he answered, and was gone. +</p> + +<p> +Now the Cæsars, dismounting from their chariots, took up their stations by +altars at the head of the steps, while beneath them, rank upon rank, gathered +all those who had shared their Triumph, each company in its allotted place. +Then followed a long pause, the multitude waiting for Miriam knew not what. +Presently men were seen running from the Forum up a path that had been left +open, one of them carrying in his hand some object wrapped in a napkin. +Arriving in face of the Cæsars he threw aside the cloth and held up before them +and in sight of all the people the grizzly head of Simon, the son of Gioras. By +this public murder of a brave captain of their foes was consummated the Triumph +of the Romans, and at the sight of its red proof trumpets blew, banners waved, +and from half a million throats went up a shout of victory that seemed to rend +the very skies, for the multitude was drunk with the glory of its brutal +vengeance. +</p> + +<p> +Then silence was called, and there before the Temple of Jove the beasts were +slain, and the Cæsars offered sacrifice to the gods that had given them +victory. +</p> + +<p> +Thus ended the Triumph of Vespasian and Titus, and with it the record of the +struggle of the Jews against the iron beak and claws of the Roman Eagle. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap23"></a>CHAPTER XXIII<br/> +THE SLAVE-RING</h2> + +<p> +Had Miriam chanced to look out of her litter as she passed the Temple of Isis, +escorted by Gallus and the guards before dawn broke upon that great day of the +Triumph, and had there been light to enable her to see, she might have beheld +two figures galloping into Rome as fast as their weary horses would carry them. +Both rode after the fashion of men, but one of them, wrapped in an Eastern +garment that hid the face, was in fact a woman. +</p> + +<p> +“Fortune favours us, Nehushta,” said the man in a strained voice. +“At least, we are in time for the Triumph, who might so easily have been +too late. Look, yonder they gather already by Octavian’s Walks,” +and he pointed to the companies of soldiers who hurried past them to the +meeting-place. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes, my lord Marcus, we are in time. There go the eagles and here +comes their prey,” and in her turn Nehushta pointed to a guarded +litter—had they but known it, the very one that carried the beloved woman +whom they sought. “But whither now? Would you also march in the train of +Titus?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, woman, it is too late. Also I know not what would be my +welcome.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your welcome? Why, you were his friend, and Titus is faithful to his +friends.” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye, but perhaps not to those who have been taken prisoner by the enemy. +Towards the commencement of the siege that happened to a man I knew. He was +captured with a companion. The companion the Jews slew, but as he was about to +be beheaded upon the wall, this man slipped from the hands of the executioner, +and leaping from it escaped with little hurt. Titus gave him his life, but +dismissed him from his legion. Why should I fare better?” +</p> + +<p> +“That you were taken was no fault of yours, who were struck senseless and +overwhelmed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Maybe, but would that avail me? The rule, a good rule, is that no Roman +soldier should yield to an enemy. If he is captured while insensible, then on +finding his wits he must slay himself, as I should have striven to do, had I +awakened to find myself in the hands of the Jews. But things fell out +otherwise. Still, I tell you, Nehushta, that had it not been for Miriam, I +should not have turned my face to Rome, at any rate until I had received pardon +and permission from Titus.” +</p> + +<p> +“What then are your plans, lord Marcus?” +</p> + +<p> +“To go to my own house near the Baths of Agrippa. The Triumph must pass +there, and if Miriam is among the captives we shall see her. If not, then +either she is dead or already sold, or perchance given as a present to some +friend of Cæsar’s.” +</p> + +<p> +Now they ceased talking, for the people were so many that they could only force +their way through the press riding one after the other. Thus, Nehushta +following Marcus, they crossed the Tiber and passed through many streets, +decorated, most of them, for the coming pageant, till at length Marcus drew +rein in front of a marble mansion in the Via Agrippa. +</p> + +<p> +“A strange home-coming,” he muttered. “Follow me,” and +he rode round the house to a side-entrance. +</p> + +<p> +Here he dismounted and knocked at the small door for some time without avail. +At length it was opened a little way, and a thin, querulous voice, speaking +through the crack, said: +</p> + +<p> +“Begone, whoever you are. No one lives here. This is the house of Marcus, +who is dead in the Jewish war. Who are you that disturb me?” +</p> + +<p> +“The heir of Marcus.” +</p> + +<p> +“Marcus has no heir, unless it be Cæsar, who doubtless will take his +property.” +</p> + +<p> +“Open, Stephanus,” said Marcus, in a tone of command, at the same +time pushing the door wide and entering. “Fool,” he added, +“what kind of a steward are you that you do not know your master’s +voice?” +</p> + +<p> +Now he who had kept the door, a withered little man in a scribe’s brown +robe, peered at this visitor with his sharp eyes, then threw up his hands and +staggered back, saying: +</p> + +<p> +“By the spear of Mars! it is Marcus himself, Marcus returned from the +dead! Welcome, my lord, welcome.” +</p> + +<p> +Marcus led his horse through the deep archway, and when Nehushta had followed +him into the courtyard beyond, returned, closed and locked the door. +</p> + +<p> +“Why did you think me dead, friend?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! my lord,” answered the steward, “because all who have +come home from the war declared that you had vanished away during the siege of +the city of the Jews, and that you must either be dead or taken prisoner. Now I +knew well that you would never disgrace your ancient house, or your own noble +name, or the Eagles which you serve, by falling alive into the hands of the +enemy. Therefore, I was sure that you were dead.” +</p> + +<p> +Marcus laughed bitterly, then turning to Nehushta, said: +</p> + +<p> +“You hear, woman, you hear. If such is the judgment of my steward and +freedman, what will be that of Cæsar and my peers?” Then he added, +“Now, Stephanus, that what you thought impossible—what I myself +should have thought impossible—has happened. I was taken prisoner by the +Jews, though through no fault of mine.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! if so,” said the old steward, “hide it, my lord, hide +it. Why, two such unhappy men who had surrendered to save their lives and were +found in some Jewish dungeon, have been condemned to walk in the Triumph this +day. Their hands are to be tied behind them; in place of their swords they must +wear a distaff, and on their breasts a placard with the words written: ‘I +am a Roman who preferred dishonour to death.’ You would not wish their +company, my lord.” +</p> + +<p> +The face of Marcus went first red, then white. +</p> + +<p> +“Man,” he said, “cease your ill-omened talk, lest I should +fall upon my sword here before your eyes. Bid the slaves make ready the bath +and food, for we need both.” +</p> + +<p> +“Slaves, my lord? There are none here, save one old woman, who attends to +me and the house.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where are they then?” asked Marcus angrily. +</p> + +<p> +“The most part of them I have sent into the country, thinking it better +that they should work upon your estates rather than live here idle, and others +who were not needed I have sold.” +</p> + +<p> +“You were ever careful, Stephanus.” Then he added by an +afterthought, “Have you any money in the house?” +</p> + +<p> +The old steward looked towards Nehushta suspiciously and seeing that she was +engaged with the horses out of earshot, answered in a whisper: “Money? I +have so much of it that I know not what to do. The strong place you know of is +almost full of gold and still it comes. There are the rents and profits of your +great estates for three years; the proceeds of the sale of slaves and certain +properties, together with the large outstanding amount that was due to my late +master, the Lord Caius, which I have at length collected. Oh! at least you will +not lack for money.” +</p> + +<p> +“There are other things that I could spare less readily,” said +Marcus, with a sigh; “still, it may be needed. Now tie up those horses by +the fountain, and give us food, what you have, for we have ridden these thirty +hours without rest. Afterwards you can talk.” +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +It was mid-day. Marcus, bathed, anointed, and clad in the robes of his order, +was standing in one of the splendid apartments of his marble house, looking +through an opening in the shutters at the passing of the Triumph. Presently old +Nehushta joined him. She also was clad in clean, white robes which the slave +woman had found for her. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you any news?” asked Marcus impatiently. +</p> + +<p> +“Some, lord, which I have pieced together from what is known by the +slave-woman, and by your steward, Stephanus. A beautiful Jewish captive is to +walk in the Triumph and afterwards to be sold with other captives in the Forum. +They heard of her because it is said that there has been a quarrel between +Titus and his brother Domitian, and Vespasian also, on account of this +woman.” +</p> + +<p> +“A quarrel? What quarrel?” +</p> + +<p> +“I, or rather your servants, know little of it, but they have heard that +Domitian demanded the girl as a gift, whereon Titus told him that if he wished +for her, he might buy her. Then the matter was referred to Vespasian Cæsar, who +upheld the decree of Titus. As for Domitian, he went away in a rage, declaring +that he would purchase the girl and remember the affront which had been put +upon him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Surely the gods are against me,” said Marcus, “if they have +given me Domitian for a rival.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why so, lord? Your money is as good as his, and perhaps you will pay +more.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will pay to my last piece, but will that free me from the rage and +hate of Domitian?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why need he know that you were the rival bidder?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why? Oh! in Rome everything is known—even the truth +sometimes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Time enough to trouble when trouble comes. First let us wait and see +whether this maid be Miriam.” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye,” he answered, “let us wait—since we must.” +</p> + +<p> +So they waited and with anxious eyes watched the great show roll by them. They +saw the cars painted with scenes of the taking of Jerusalem and the statues of +the gods fashioned in ivory and gold. They saw the purple hangings of the +Babylonian broidered pictures, the wild beasts, and the ships mounted upon +wheels. They saw the treasures of the temple and the images of victory, and +many other things, for that pageant seemed to be endless, and still the +captives and the Emperors did not come. +</p> + +<p> +One sight there was also that caused Marcus to shrink as though fire had burned +him, for yonder, set in the midst of a company of jugglers and buffoons that +gibed and mocked at them, were the two unhappy men who had been taken prisoners +by the Jews. On they tramped, their hands bound behind them, clad in full +armour, but wearing a woman’s distaff where the sword should have been, +and round their necks the placards which proclaimed their shame. The brutal +Roman mob hooted them also, that mob which ever loved spectacles of cruelty and +degradation, calling them cowards. One of the men, a bull-necked, black-haired +fellow, suffered it patiently, remembering that at even he must be set free to +vanish where he would. The other, who was blue-eyed and finer-featured, having +gentle blood in his veins, seemed to be maddened by their talk, for he glared +about him, gnashing his teeth like a wild beast in a cage. Opposite to the +house of Marcus came the climax. +</p> + +<p> +“Cur,” yelled a woman in the mob, casting a pebble that struck him +on the cheek. “Cur! Coward!” +</p> + +<p> +The blue-eyed man stopped, and, wheeling round, shouted in answer: +</p> + +<p> +“I am no coward, I who have slain ten men with my own hand, five of them +in single combat. You are the cowards who taunt me. I was overwhelmed, that is +all, and afterwards in the prison I thought of my wife and children and lived +on. Now I die and my blood be on you.” +</p> + +<p> +Behind him, drawn by eight white oxen, was the model of a ship with the crew +standing on its deck. Avoiding his guard, the man ran down the line of oxen and +suddenly cast himself upon the ground before the wooden-wheeled car, which +passed over his neck, crushing the life out of him. +</p> + +<p> +“Well done! Well done!” shouted the crowd, rejoicing at this +unexpected sight. “Well done! He was brave after all.” +</p> + +<p> +Then the body was carried away and the procession moved forward. But Marcus, +who watched, hid his face in his hands, and Nehushta, lifting hers, uttered a +prayer for the passing soul of the victim. +</p> + +<p> +Now the prisoners began to go past, marching eight by eight, hundreds upon +hundreds of them, and once more the mob shouted and rejoiced over these +unfortunates, whose crime was that they had fought for their country to the +end. The last files passed, then at a little distance from them, tramping +forward wearily, appeared the slight figure of a girl dressed in a robe of +white silk blazoned at its breast with gold. Her bowed head, from which the +curling tresses fell almost to her waist, was bared to the fierce rays of the +sun, and on her naked bosom lay a necklace of great pearls. +</p> + +<p> +“Pearl-Maiden, Pearl-Maiden!” shouted the crowd. +</p> + +<p> +“Look!” said Nehushta, gripping the shoulder of Marcus with her +hand. +</p> + +<p> +He looked, and after long years once more beheld Miriam, for though he had +heard her voice in the Old Tower at Jerusalem, then her face was hidden from +him by the darkness. There was the maid from whom he had parted in the desert +village by Jordan, the same, and yet changed. Then she had been a lovely girl, +now she was a woman on whom sorrow and suffering had left their stamp. The +features were finer, the deep, patient eyes were frightened and reproachful; +her beauty was such as we see in dreams, not altogether that of earth. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! my darling, my darling,” murmured Nehushta, stretching out her +arms towards her. “Christ be thanked, that I have found you, my +darling.” Then she turned to Marcus, who was devouring Miriam with his +eyes, and said in a fierce voice: +</p> + +<p> +“Roman, now that you see her again, do you still love her as much as of +old time?” +</p> + +<p> +He took no note and she repeated the question. Then he answered: +</p> + +<p> +“Why do you trouble me with such idle words. Once she was a woman to be +won, now she is a spirit to be worshipped.” +</p> + +<p> +“Woman or spirit, or woman and spirit, beware how you deal with her, +Roman,” snarled Nehushta still more fiercely, +“or——” and she let her hand fall upon the knife that +was hidden in her robe. +</p> + +<p> +“Peace, peace!” said Marcus, and as he spoke the procession came to +a halt before his windows. “How weary she is, and sad,” he went on +speaking to himself. “Her heart seems crushed. Oh! that I must stay here +and see her thus, who dare not show myself! If she could but know! If she could +but know!” +</p> + +<p> +Nehushta thrust him aside and took his place. Fixing her eyes upon Miriam she +made some effort of the will, so fierce and concentrated that beneath the +strain her body shook and quivered. See! Her thought reached the captive, for +she looked up. +</p> + +<p> +“Stand to one side,” she whispered to Marcus, then unlatched the +shutters and slowly pushed them open. Now between her and the air was nothing +but the silken curtains. Very gently she parted these with her hands, for some +few seconds suffering her face to be seen between them. Then laying her fingers +on her lips she drew back and they closed again. +</p> + +<p> +“It is well,” she said, “she knows.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let her see me also,” said Marcus. +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, she can bear no more. Look, look, she faints.” +</p> + +<p> +Groaning in bitterness of spirit they watched Miriam, who seemed about to fall. +Now a woman gave her the cup of wine, and drinking she recovered herself. +</p> + +<p> +“Note that woman,” muttered Marcus, “that I may reward +her.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is needless,” answered Nehushta, “she seeks no +reward.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is strange in a Roman,” he said bitterly. +</p> + +<p> +“She is more than a Roman, she is a Christian. As she passed it she made +a sign of the cross with the cup.” +</p> + +<p> +The waggons creaked; the officers shouted; the procession moved forward. From +behind the curtain the pair kept their eyes fixed upon Miriam until she +vanished in the dust and crowd. When she had gone they seemed to see little +else; even the sight of the glorious Cæsars could not hold their eyes. +</p> + +<p> +Marcus summoned the steward, Stephanus. +</p> + +<p> +“Go forth,” he said, “and discover when and where the captive +Pearl-Maiden is to be sold. Then return to me swiftly. Be secret and silent, +and let none suspect whence you come or what you seek. Your life hangs upon it. +Go.” +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +The sun was sinking fast, staining the marble temples and colonnades of the +Forum blood-red with its level beams. For the most part the glorious place was +deserted now, since, the Triumph over at length, the hundreds of thousands of +the Roman populace, wearied out with pleasure and excitement, had gone home to +spend the night in feasting. About one of the public slave-markets, however, a +round of marble enclosed with a rope and set in front of a small building, +where the slaves were sheltered until the moment of their sale, a mixed crowd +was gathered, some of them bidders, some idlers drawn thither by curiosity. +Others were in the house behind examining the wares before they came to the +hammer. Presently an old woman, meanly clad with her face veiled to the eyes, +and bearing on her back a heavy basket such as was used to carry fruit to +market, presented herself at the door of the house. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you want?” asked the gatekeeper. +</p> + +<p> +“To inspect the slaves,” she answered in Greek. +</p> + +<p> +“Go away,” he said roughly, “you are not a buyer.” +</p> + +<p> +“I may be if the stuff is good enough,” she replied, slipping a +gold coin into his hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Pass in, old lady, pass in,” and in another second the door had +closed behind her, and Nehushta found herself among the slaves. +</p> + +<p> +In this building the light was already so low that torches were burning for the +convenience of visitors. By the flare of them Nehushta saw the unfortunate +captives—there were but fifteen—seated upon marble benches, while +slave women moved from the one to the other, washing their hands and feet and +faces in scented water, brushing and tying their hair and removing the dust of +the procession from their robes, so that they might look more comely to the +eyes of the purchasers. Also there were present a fair number of bidders, +twenty or thirty of them, who strolled from girl to girl discussing the points +of each and at times asking them to stand up, or turn round, or show their arms +and ankles, that they might judge of them better. At the moment when Nehushta +entered one of these, a fat man with greasy curls who looked like an Eastern, +was endeavouring to persuade a dark and splendid Jewess to let him see her +foot. Pretending not to understand she sat still and sullen, till at length he +stooped down and lifted her robe. Then in an instant the girl dealt him such a +kick in the face that amidst the laughter of the spectators he rolled backwards +on the floor, whence he rose with a cut and bloody forehead. +</p> + +<p> +“Very good, my beauty, very good,” he muttered in a savage voice, +“before twelve hours are over you shall pay for that.” +</p> + +<p> +But again the girl sat sullen and motionless, pretending not to understand. +</p> + +<p> +Most of the public, however, were gathered about Miriam, who sat upon a chair +by herself, her hands folded, her head bent down, a very picture of pitiful, +outraged modesty. One by one as their turns came and the attendant suffered +them to approach, the men advanced and examined her closely, though Nehushta +noted that none of them were allowed to touch her with their hands. Placing +herself at the end of the line she watched with all her eyes and listened with +all her ears. Soon she had her reward. A tall man, dressed like a merchant of +Egypt, went up to Miriam and bent over her. +</p> + +<p> +“Silence!” said the attendant. “I am ordered to suffer none +to speak to the slave who is called Pearl-Maiden. Move on, sir, move on.” +</p> + +<p> +The man lifted his head, and although in that gloom she could not see his face, +Nehushta knew its shape. Still she was not sure, till presently he moved his +right hand so that it came between her and the flame of one of the torches, and +she perceived that the top joint of the first finger was missing. +</p> + +<p> +“Caleb,” she thought to herself, “Caleb, escaped and in Rome! +So Domitian has another rival.” Then she went back to the door-keeper and +asked him the name of the man. +</p> + +<p> +“A merchant of Alexandria named Demetrius,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +Nehushta returned to her place. In front of her two men, agents who bought +slaves and other things for wealthy clients, were talking. +</p> + +<p> +“More fit for a sale of dogs,” said one, “after sunset when +everybody is tired out, than for that of one of the fairest women who ever +stood upon the block.” +</p> + +<p> +“Pshaw,” answered the other, “the whole thing is a farce. +Domitian is in a hurry, that’s all, so the auction must be held +to-night.” +</p> + +<p> +“He means to buy her?” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course. I am told that his factor, Saturius, has orders to go up to a +thousand sestertia if need be,” and he nodded towards a quiet man dressed +in a robe of some rich, dark stuff, who stood in a corner of the place watching +the company. +</p> + +<p> +“A thousand sestertia! For one slave girl! Ye gods! a thousand +sestertia!” +</p> + +<p> +“The necklace goes with her, that is worth something, and there is +property at Tyre.” +</p> + +<p> +“Property in Tyre,” said the other, “property in the moon. +Come on, let us look at something a little less expensive. As I wish to keep my +head on my shoulders, I am not going to bid against the prince in any +case.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, nor anyone else either. I expect he will get his fancy pretty cheap +after all.” +</p> + +<p> +Then the two men moved away, and a minute afterwards Nehushta found that it was +her turn to approach Miriam. +</p> + +<p> +“Here comes a curious sort of buyer,” said one of the attendants. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t judge the taste of the fruit by the look of the rind, young +man,” answered Nehushta, and at the sound of that voice for the first +time Pearl-Maiden lifted her head, then dropped it quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“She is well enough,” Nehushta said aloud, “but there used to +be prettier women when I was young; in fact, though dark, I was myself,” +a statement at which those within hearing, noting her gaunt and aged form bent +beneath the heavy basket, tittered aloud. “Come, lift up your head, my +dear,” she went on, trying to entice the captive to consent by +encouraging waves of her hand. +</p> + +<p> +They were fruitless; still, had any thought of it there was meaning in them. On +Nehushta’s finger, as it chanced, shone a ring which Miriam ought to +know, seeing that for some years she had worn it on her own. +</p> + +<p> +It would seem that she did know it, at any rate her bosom and neck grew red and +a spasm passed across her face which even the falling hair did not suffice to +hide. +</p> + +<p> +The ring told Miriam that Marcus lived and that Nehushta was his messenger. +This suspense at least was ended. +</p> + +<p> +Now the door-keeper called a warning and the buyers flocked from the building. +Outside, the auctioneer, a smooth-faced, glib-tongued man, was already mounting +the rostrum. Calling for silence he began his speech. On this evening of +festival, he said, he would be brief. The lots he had to offer to the select +body of connoisseurs he saw before him, were the property of the Imperator +Titus, and the proceeds of the sale, it was his duty to tell them, would not go +into Cæsar’s pocket, but were to be equally divided between the poor of +Rome and deserving soldiers who had been wounded or had lost their health in +the war, a fact which must cause every patriotic citizen to bid more briskly. +These lots, he might say, were unique, being nothing else than the fifteen most +beautiful girls, believed all of them to be of noble blood, among the many +thousands who had been captured at the sack of Jerusalem, the city of the Jews, +especially selected to adorn the great conqueror’s Triumph. No true +judge, who desired a charming memento of the victory of his country’s +arms, would wish to neglect such an opportunity, especially as he was informed +that the Jewish women were affectionate, docile, well instructed in many arts, +and very hard-working. He had only one more thing to say, or rather two things. +He regretted that this important sale should be held at so unusual an hour. The +reason was that there was really no place where these slaves could be +comfortably kept without risk of their maltreatment or escape, so it was held +to be best that they should be removed at once to the seclusion of their new +homes, a decision, he was sure, that would meet the wishes of buyers. The +second point was that among them was one lot of surpassing interest; namely, +the girl who had come to be generally spoken of as Pearl-Maiden. +</p> + +<p> +This young woman, who could not be more than three or four-and-twenty years of +age, was the last representative of a princely family of the Jews. She had been +found exposed upon one of the gates of the holy house of that people, where it +would seem she was sentenced to perish for some offence against their barbarous +laws. As the clamours of the populace that day had testified, she was of the +most delicate and distinguished beauty, and the collar of great pearls which +she wore about her neck gave evidence of her rank. If he knew anything of the +tastes of his countrymen the price which would be paid for her must prove a +record even in that ring. He was aware that among the vulgar a great, almost a +divine name had been coupled with that of this captive. Well, he knew nothing, +except this, that he was certain that if there was any truth in the matter the +owner of the name, as became a noble and a generous nature, would wish to +obtain his prize fairly and openly. The bidding was as free to the humblest +there—provided, of course, that he could pay, and he might remark that +not an hour’s credit would be given except to those who were known to +him—as to Cæsar himself. Now, as the light was failing, he would order +the torches to be lit and commence the sale. The beauteous Pearl-Maiden, he +might add, was Lot No. 7. +</p> + +<p> +So the torches were lit, and presently the first victim was led out and placed +upon a stand of marble in the centre of the flaring ring. She was a dark-haired +child of about sixteen years of age, who stared round her with a frightened +gaze. +</p> + +<p> +The bidding began at five sestertia and ran up to fifteen, or about £120 of our +money, at which price she was knocked down to a Greek, who led her back into +the receiving house, paid the gold to a clerk who was in attendance, and took +her away, sobbing as she went. Then followed four others, who were sold at +somewhat better prices. No. 6 was the dark and splendid Jewess who had kicked +the greasy-curled Eastern in the face. As soon as she appeared upon the block, +this brute stepped forward and bid twenty sestertia for her. An old +grey-bearded fellow answered with a bid of twenty-five. Then some one bid +thirty, which the Eastern capped with a bid of forty. So it went on till the +large total of sixty sestertia was offered, whereon the Eastern advanced two +more, at which price, amidst the laughter of the audience, she was knocked down +to him. +</p> + +<p> +“You know me and that the money is safe,” he said to the +auctioneer. “It shall be paid to you to-morrow; I have enough to carry +without lading myself up with so much gold. Come on, girl, to your new home, +where I have a little score to settle with you,” and grasping her by the +left wrist he pulled her from the block and led her unresisting through the +crowd and to the shadows beyond. +</p> + +<p> +Already No. 7 had been summoned to the block and the auctioneer was taking up +his tale, when from out of these shadows rose the sound of a dreadful yell. +Some of the audience snatched torches from their stands and ran to the spot +whence it came. There, on the marble pavement lay the Eastern dead or dying, +while over him stood the Jewess, a red dagger, his own, which she had snatched +from its scabbard, in her hand, and on her stately face a look of vengeful +triumph. +</p> + +<p> +“Seize her! Seize the murdering witch! Beat her to death with +rods,” they cried, and at the command of the auctioneer slaves ran up to +take her. +</p> + +<p> +She waited till they were near, then, without a word or a sound, lifted her +strong, white arm and drove the knife deep into her own heart. For a moment she +stood still, till suddenly she stretched her hands wide and fell face downwards +dead upon the body of the brute who had bought her. +</p> + +<p> +The crowd gasped and was silent. Then one of them, a sickly looking patrician, +called out: +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! I did well to come. What a sight! What a sight! Blessings on you, +brave girl, you have given Julius a new pleasure.” +</p> + +<p> +After this there was tumult and confusion while the attendants carried away the +bodies. A few minutes later the auctioneer climbed back into his rostrum and +alluded in moving terms to the “unfortunate accident” which had +just happened. +</p> + +<p> +“Who would think,” he said, “that one so beautiful could also +be so violent? I weep when I consider that this noble purchaser, whose name I +forget at the moment, but whose estate, by the way, is liable for the money, +should have thus suddenly been transferred from the arms of Venus to that of +Pluto, although it must be admitted that he gave the woman some provocation. +Well, gentlemen, grief will not bring him to life again, and we who still stand +beneath the stars have business to attend. Bear me witness, all of you, that I +am blameless in this affair, and, slaves, bring out that priceless gem, the +Pearl-Maiden.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap24"></a>CHAPTER XXIV<br/> +MASTER AND SLAVE</h2> + +<p> +Now a hush of expectancy fell upon the crowd, till presently two attendants +appeared, each of them holding in his hand a flaming torch, and between them +the captive Pearl-Maiden. So beautiful did she look as she advanced thus with +bowed head, the red light of the torches falling upon her white robe and breast +and reflected in a faint, shimmering line from the collar of pearls about her +neck, that even that jaded company clapped as she came. In another moment she +had mounted the two steps and was standing on the block of marble. The crowd +pressed closer, among them the merchant of Egypt, Demetrius, and the veiled +woman with the basket, who was now attended by a little man dressed as a slave +and bearing on his back another basket, the weight of which he seemed to find +irksome, since from time to time he groaned and twisted his shoulders. Also the +chamberlain, Saturius, secure in the authority of his master, stepped over the +rope and against the rule began to walk round and round the captive, examining +her critically. +</p> + +<p> +“Look at her!” said the auctioneer. “Look for yourselves. I +have nothing to say, words fail me—unless it is this. For more than +twenty years I have stood in this rostrum, and during that time I suppose that +fifteen or sixteen thousand young women have been knocked down to my hammer. +They have come out of every part of the world; from the farthest East, from the +Grecian mountains, from Egypt and Cyprus, from the Spanish plains, from Gaul, +from the people of the Teutons, from the island of the Britons, and other +barbarous places that lie still further north. Among them were many beautiful +women, of every style and variety of loveliness, yet I tell you honestly, my +patrons, I do not remember one who came so near perfection as this maiden whom +I have the honour to sell to-night. I say again—look at her, look at her, +and tell me with what you can find fault. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you say? Oh! yes, I am informed that her teeth are quite sound, +there is no blemish to conceal, none at all, and the hair is all her own. That +gentleman says that she is rather small. Well, she is not built upon a large +scale, and to my mind that is one of her attractions. Little and good, you +know, little and good. Only consider the proportions. Why, the greatest +sculptors, ancient or modern, would rejoice to have her as model, and I hope +that in the interests of the art-loving public”—here he glanced at +the Chamberlain, Saturius—“that the fortunate person into whose +hands she passes will not be so selfish as to deny them this satisfaction. +</p> + +<p> +“Now I have said enough and must but add this, that by the special decree +of her captor, the Imperator Titus, the beautiful necklace of pearls worn by +the maiden goes with her. I asked a jeweller friend of mine to look at it just +now, and judging as well as he could without removing it from her neck, which +was not allowed, he values it at least at a hundred sestertia. Also, there goes +with this lot considerable property, situated in Tyre and neighbouring places, +to which, had she been a free woman, she would have succeeded by inheritance. +You may think that Tyre is a long way off and that it will be difficult to take +possession of this estate, and, of course, there is something in the objection. +Still, the title to it is secure enough, for here I have a deed signed by Titus +Cæsar himself, commanding all officials, officers and others concerned, to hand +over without waste or deduction all property, real or personal, belonging to +the estate of the late Benoni, the Jewish merchant of Tyre, and a member of the +Sanhedrim—the lot’s grandfather, I am informed, gentlemen—to +her purchaser, who has only to fill in his own name in the blank space, or any +representatives whom he may appoint, which deed is especially declared to be +indefeasible. Any one wish to see it? No? Then we will take it as read. I know +that in such a matter, my patrons, my word is enough for you. +</p> + +<p> +“Now I am about to come to business, with the remark that the more +liberal your bidding the better will our glorious general, Titus Cæsar, be +pleased; the better will the poor and the invalided soldiers, who deserve so +well at your hands, be pleased; the better will the girl herself be pleased, +who I am sure will know how to reward a generous appreciation of her worth; and +the better shall I, your humble friend and servant, be pleased, because, as I +may inform you in strict secrecy, I am paid, not by a fixed salary, but by +commission. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, gentlemen, what may I say? A thousand sestertia to begin with? Oh! +don’t laugh, I expect more than that. What! Fifty? You are joking, my +friend. However, the acorn grows into the oak, doesn’t it? and I am told +that you can stop the sources of the Tiber with your hat; so I’ll start +with fifty. Fifty—a hundred. Come, bid up, gentlemen, or we shall never +get home to supper. Two hundred—three, four, five, six, seven, +eight—ah! that’s better. What are you stopping for?” and he +addressed a hatchet-faced man who had thrust himself forward over the rope of +the ring. +</p> + +<p> +The man shook his head with a sigh. “I’m done,” he said. +“Such goods are for my betters,” a sentiment that seemed to be +shared by his rivals, since they also stopped bidding. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, friend Saturius,” said the auctioneer, “have you gone +to sleep, or have you anything to say? Only in hundreds, now, gentlemen, mind, +only in hundreds, unless I give the word. Thank you, I have nine +hundred,” and he looked round rather carelessly, expecting at heart that +this bid would be the last. +</p> + +<p> +Then the merchant from Alexandria stepped forward and held up his finger. +</p> + +<p> +“A thousand, by the Gods!” +</p> + +<p> +Saturius looked at the man indignantly. Who was this that dared to bid against +Domitian, the third dignitary in all the Roman empire, Cæsar’s son, +Cæsar’s brother, who might himself be Cæsar? Still he answered with +another bid of eleven hundred. +</p> + +<p> +Once more the finger of Domitian went up. +</p> + +<p> +“Twelve. Twelve hundred!” said the auctioneer, in a voice of +suppressed excitement, while the audience gasped, for such prices had not been +heard of. +</p> + +<p> +“Thirteen,” said the Chamberlain. +</p> + +<p> +Again the finger went up. +</p> + +<p> +“Fourteen hundred. I have fourteen hundred. Against you, worthy Saturius. +Come, come, I must knock the lot down, which perhaps would not please some whom +I could mention. Don’t be stingy, friend, you have a large purse to draw +on, and it is called the Roman Empire. Now. Thank you, I have fifteen hundred. +Well, my friend yonder. What! Have you had enough?” and he pointed to the +Alexandrian merchant, who, with a groan, had turned aside and hidden his face +in his hands. +</p> + +<p> +“Knocked out, knocked out, it seems,” said the auctioneer, +“and though it is little enough under all the circumstances for this lot, +who is as lovely as she is historical, I suppose that I can scarcely +expect——” and he looked around despondently. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly the old woman with the basket glanced up and, speaking in a quiet +matter-of-fact voice but with a foreign accent, said: +</p> + +<p> +“Two thousand.” +</p> + +<p> +A titter of laughter went around the room. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear madam?” queried the auctioneer, looking at her dubiously, +“might I ask if you mean sester<i>tii</i> or sester<i>tia</i>?[*] Your +pardon, but it has occurred to me that you might be confounding the two +sums.” +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[*] A <i>sestertius</i> was worth less than 2d., a <i>sestertium</i> was a sum +of money of the value of about £8. +</p> + +<p> +“Two thousand sester<i>tia</i>,” repeated the matter-of-fact voice +with the foreign accent. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, well,” said the auctioneer, “I suppose that I must +accept the bid. Friend Saturius, I have two thousand sestertia, and it is +against you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Against me it must remain, then,” replied the little man in a +fury. “Do all the kings in the world want this girl? Already I have +exceeded my limit by five hundred sestertia. I dare do no more. Let her +go.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t vex yourself, Saturius,” said the auctioneer, +“bidding is one thing, paying another. At present I have a bona-fide bid +of fifteen hundred from you. Unless this liberal but unknown lady is prepared +with the cash I shall close on that. Do you understand, madam?” +</p> + +<p> +“Perfectly,” answered the veiled old woman. “Being a stranger +to Rome I thought it well to bring the gold with me, since strangers cannot +expect credit.” +</p> + +<p> +“To bring the gold with you!” gasped the auctioneer. “To +bring two thousand sestertia with you! Where is it then?” +</p> + +<p> +“Where? Oh! in my servant’s and my own baskets, and something more +as well. Come, good sir, I have made my bid. Does the worthy gentleman +advance?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” shouted Saturius. “You are being fooled, she has not +got the money.” +</p> + +<p> +“If he does not advance and no other worthy gentleman wishes to bid, then +will you knock the lot down?” said the old woman. “Pardon me if I +press you, noble seller of slaves, but I must ride far from Rome to-night, to +Centum Cellæ, indeed, where my ship waits; therefore, I have no time to +lose.” +</p> + +<p> +Now the auctioneer saw that there was no choice, since under the rules of the +public mart he must accept the offer of the highest bidder. +</p> + +<p> +“Two thousand sestertia are bid for this lot No. 7, the Jewish captive +known as Pearl-Maiden, sold by order of Titus Imperator, together with her +collar of pearls and the property to which, as a free woman, she would have +been entitled. Any advance on two thousand sestertia?” and he looked at +Saturius, who shook his head. “No? +Then—going—going—gone! I declare the lot sold, to be +delivered on payment of the cash to the person named—by the way, madam, +what is your name?” +</p> + +<p> +“Mulier.” +</p> + +<p> +At this the company burst into a loud laugh. +</p> + +<p> +“Mulier?” repeated the auctioneer, “M u l i e +r—Woman?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, am I not a woman, and what better name can I have than is given to +all my sex?” +</p> + +<p> +“In truth, you are so wrapped up that I must take your word for +it,” replied the auctioneer. “But come, let us put an end to this +farce. If you have the money, follow me into the receiving house—for I +must see to the matter myself—and pay it down.” +</p> + +<p> +“With pleasure, sir, but be so good as to bring my property with you. She +is too valuable to be left here unprotected amongst these distinguished but +disappointed gentlemen.” +</p> + +<p> +Accordingly Miriam was led from the marble stand into an office annexed to the +receiving-house, whither she was followed by the auctioneer and by Nehushta and +her servant, whose backs, it was now observed, bent beneath the weight of the +baskets that were strapped upon them. Here the door was locked, and with the +help of her attendant Nehushta loosened her basket, letting it fall upon the +table with a sigh of relief. +</p> + +<p> +“Take it and count,” he said to the auctioneer, untying the lid. +</p> + +<p> +He lifted it and there met his eye a layer of lettuces neatly packed. +</p> + +<p> +“By Venus!” he began in a fury. +</p> + +<p> +“Softly, friend, softly,” said Nehushta, “these lettuces are +of a kind which only grow in yellow soil. Look,” and lifting the +vegetables she revealed beneath row upon row of gold coin. “Examine it +before you count,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +He did so by biting pieces at hazard with his teeth and causing them to ring +upon the marble table. +</p> + +<p> +“It is good,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Quite so. Then count.” +</p> + +<p> +So he and the clerk counted, even to the bottom of the basket, which was found +to contain gold to the value of over eleven hundred sestertia. +</p> + +<p> +“So far well,” he said, “but that is not enough.” +</p> + +<p> +The buyer beckoned to the man with her who stood in the corner, his face hidden +by the shadow, and he dragged forward the second basket, which he had already +unstrapped from his shoulders. Here also were lettuces, and beneath the +lettuces gold. When the full two thousand sestertia were counted, that is, over +fifteen thousand pounds of our money, this second basket still remained more +than a third full. +</p> + +<p> +“I ought to have run you up, madam,” said the auctioneer, surveying +the shining gold with greedy eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” she replied calmly, “if you had guessed the truth you +might have done so. But who knows the truth, except myself?” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you a sorceress?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps. What does it matter? At least, the gold will not melt. And, by +the way, it is troublesome carrying so much of the stuff back again. Would you +like a couple of handfuls for yourself, and say ten pieces for your clerk? Yes? +Well, please first fill in that deed with the name that I shall give you and +with your own as witness? Here it is—‘Miriam, daughter of Demas and +Rachel, born in the year of the death of Herod Agrippa.’ Thank you. You +have signed, and the clerk also, I think. Now I will take that roll. +</p> + +<p> +“One thing more, there is another door to this Receiving-house? With your +leave I should prefer to go out that way, as my newly acquired property seems +tired, and for one day has had enough of public notice. You will, I understand, +give us a few minutes to depart before you return to the rostrum, and your +clerk will be so courteous as to escort us out of the Forum. Now help yourself. +Man, can’t you make your hand larger than that? Well, it will suffice to +pay for a summer holiday. I see a cloak there which may serve to protect this +slave from the chill air of the night. In case it should be claimed, perhaps +these five pieces will pay for it. Most noble and courteous sir, again I thank +you. Young woman, throw this over your bare shoulders and your head; that +necklace might tempt the dishonest. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, if our guide is ready we will be going. Slave, bring the basket, at +the weight of which you need no longer groan, and you, young woman, strap on +this other basket; it is as well that you should begin to be instructed in your +domestic duties, for I tell you at once that having heard much of the skill of +the Jews in those matters, I have bought you to be my cook and to attend to the +dressing of my hair. Farewell, sir, farewell; may we never meet again.” +</p> + +<p> +“Farewell,” replied the astonished auctioneer, “farewell, my +lady Mulier, who can afford to give two thousand sestertia for a cook! Good +luck to you, and if you are always as liberal as this, may we meet once a +month, say I. Yet have no fear,” he added meaningly, “I know when I +have been well treated and shall not seek you out—even to please Cæsar +himself.” +</p> + +<p> +Three minutes later, under the guidance of the clerk, who was as discreet as +his master, they had passed, quite undisturbed, through various dark colonnades +and up a flight of marble stairs. +</p> + +<p> +“Now you are out of the Forum, so go your ways,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +They went, and the clerk stood watching them until they were round a corner, +for he was young and curious, and to him this seemed the strangest comedy of +the slave-market of which he had ever even heard. +</p> + +<p> +As he turned to go he found himself face to face with a tall man, in whom he +recognized that merchant of Egypt who had bid for Pearl-Maiden up to the +enormous total of fourteen hundred sestertia. +</p> + +<p> +“Friend,” said Demetrius, “which way did your companions +go?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know,” answered the clerk. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, try to remember. Did they walk straight on, or turn to the left, +or turn to the right? Fix your attention on these, it may help you,” and +once more that fortunate clerk found five gold pieces thrust into his hand. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know that they help me,” he said, for he wished to +be faithful to his hire. +</p> + +<p> +“Fool,” said Demetrius in a changed voice, “remember quickly, +or here is something that will——” and he showed him a dagger +glinting in his hand. “Now then, do you wish to go the same road as they +carried the Jewish girl and the Eastern?” +</p> + +<p> +“They turned to the right,” said the clerk sulkily. “It is +the truth, but may that road you speak of be yours who draw knives on honest +folk.” +</p> + +<p> +With a bound Demetrius left his side, and for the second time the clerk stood +still, watching him go. +</p> + +<p> +“A strange business,” he said to himself, “but, perhaps my +master was right and that old woman is a sorceress, or, perhaps, the young one +is the sorceress, since all men seem ready to pay a tribe’s tribute to +get hold of her; or, perhaps, they are both sorceresses. A strange story, of +which I should like to know the meaning, and so, I fancy, would the Prince +Domitian when he comes to hear of it. Saturius, the chamberlain, has a fat +place, but I would not take it to-night, no, not if it were given to me.” +</p> + +<p> +Then that young man returned to the mart in time to hear his master knock down +Lot thirteen, a very sweet-looking girl, to Saturius himself, who proposed, +though with a doubtful heart, to take her to Domitian as a substitute. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile, Nehushta, Miriam and the steward Stephanus, disguised as a slave, +went on as swiftly as they dared towards the palace of Marcus in the Via +Agrippa. The two women held each other by the hand but said nothing; their +hearts seemed too full for speech. Only the old steward kept +muttering—“Two thousand sestertia! The savings of years! Two +thousand sestertia for that bit of a girl! Surely the gods have smitten him +mad.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hold your peace, fool,” said Nehushta at length. “At least, +I am not mad; the property that went with her is worth more than the +money.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes,” replied the aggrieved Stephanus, “but how will +that benefit my master? You put it in her name. Well, it is no affair of mine, +and at least this accursed basket is much lighter.” +</p> + +<p> +Now they were at the side door of the house, which Stephanus was unlocking with +his key. +</p> + +<p> +“Quick,” said Nehushta, “I hear footsteps.” +</p> + +<p> +The door opened and they passed in, but at that moment one went by them, +pausing to look until the door closed again. +</p> + +<p> +“Who was that?” asked Stephanus nervously. +</p> + +<p> +“He whom they called Demetrius, the merchant of Alexandria, but whom once +I knew by another name,” answered Nehushta in a slow voice while +Stephanus barred the door. +</p> + +<p> +They walked through the archway into an antechamber lit by a single lamp, +leaving Stephanus still occupied with his bolts and chains. Here with a sudden +motion Nehushta threw off her cloak and tore the veil from her brow. In another +instant, uttering a low, crooning cry, she flung her long arms about Miriam and +began to kiss her again and again on the face. +</p> + +<p> +“My darling,” she moaned, “my darling.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me what it all means, Nou,” said the poor girl faintly. +</p> + +<p> +“It means that God has heard my prayers and suffered my old feet to +overtake you in time, and provided the wealth to preserve you from a dreadful +fate.” +</p> + +<p> +“Whose wealth? Where am I?” asked Miriam. +</p> + +<p> +Nehushta made no answer, only she unstrapped the basket from Miriam’s +back and unclasped the cloak from about her shoulders. Then, taking her by the +hand, she led her into a lighted passage and thence through a door into a great +and splendid room spread with rich carpets and adorned with costly furniture +and marble images. At the end of this room was a table lighted by two lamps, +and on the further side of this table sat a man as though he were asleep, for +his face was hidden upon his arms. Miriam saw him and clung to Nehushta +trembling. +</p> + +<p> +“Hush!” whispered her guide, and they stood still in the shadow. +</p> + +<p> +The man lifted his head so that the light fell full upon it, and Miriam saw +that it was Marcus. Marcus grown older and with a patch of grey hair upon his +temple where the sword of Caleb had struck him, very worn and tired-looking +also, but still Marcus and no other. He was speaking to himself. +</p> + +<p> +“I can bear it no longer,” he said. “Thrice have I been to +the gate and still no sign. Doubtless the plan has miscarried and by now she is +in the palace of Domitian. I will go forth and learn the worst,” and he +rose from the table. +</p> + +<p> +“Speak to him,” whispered Nehushta, pushing Miriam forward. +</p> + +<p> +She advanced into the circle of the lamplight, but as yet Marcus did not see +her, for he had gone to the window-place to find a cloak that lay there. Then +he turned and saw her. Before him in her robe of white, the soft light shining +on her gentle loveliness, stood Miriam. He stared at her bewildered. +</p> + +<p> +“Do I dream?” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, Marcus,” she answered in her sweet voice, “you do not +dream. I am Miriam.” +</p> + +<p> +In an instant he was at her side and held her in his arms, nor did she resist +him, for after so many fears and sufferings they seemed to her a home. +</p> + +<p> +“Loose me, I pray you,” she said at length, “I am faint, I +can bear no more.” +</p> + +<p> +At her entreaty he suffered her to sink upon the cushions of a couch that was +at hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me, tell me everything,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Ask it of Nehushta,” she answered, leaning back. “I am +spent.” +</p> + +<p> +Nehushta ran to her side and began to chafe her hands. “Let be with your +questions,” she said. “I bought her, that’s enough. Ask that +old huckster, Stephanus, the price. But first in the name of charity give her +food. Those who have walked through a Triumph to end the day on the slave block +need victuals.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is here, it is here,” Marcus said confusedly, “such as +there is.” Taking a lamp he led the way to a table that was placed in the +shadow, where stood some meat and fruit with flagons of rich coloured wine and +pure water and shallow silver cups to drink from. +</p> + +<p> +Putting her arm about Miriam’s waist, Nehushta supported her to the table +and sat her down upon one of the couches. Then she poured out wine and put it +to her lips, and cut meat and made her swallow it till Miriam would touch no +more. Now the colour came back to her face, and her eyes grew bright again, and +resting there upon the couch, she listened while Nehushta told Marcus all the +story of the slave sale. +</p> + +<p> +“Well done,” he said, laughing in his old merry fashion, +“well done, indeed! Oh! what favouring god put it into the head of that +honest old miser, Stephanus, from year to year to hoard up all that sum of gold +against an hour of sudden need which none could foresee!” +</p> + +<p> +“My God and hers,” answered Nehushta solemnly, “to Whom if He +give you space, you should be thankful, which, by the way, is more than +Stephanus is, who has seen so much of your savings squandered in an +hour.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your savings?” said Miriam, looking up. “Did you buy me, +Marcus?” +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose so, beloved,” he answered. +</p> + +<p> +“Then, then, I am your slave?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not so, Miriam,” he replied nervously. “As you know well, it +is I who am yours. All I ask of you is that you should become my wife.” +</p> + +<p> +“That cannot be, Marcus,” she answered in a kind of cry. “You +know that it cannot be.” +</p> + +<p> +His face turned pale. +</p> + +<p> +“After all that has come and gone between us, Miriam, do you still say +so?” +</p> + +<p> +“I still say so.” +</p> + +<p> +“You could give your life for me, and yet you will not give your life to +me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Marcus.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why? Why?” +</p> + +<p> +“For the reasons that I gave you yonder by the banks of Jordan; because +those who begat me laid on me the charge that I should marry none who is not a +Christian. How then can I marry you?” +</p> + +<p> +Marcus thought a moment. +</p> + +<p> +“Does the book of your law forbid it?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head. “No, but the dead forbid it, and rather will I join +them than break their command.” +</p> + +<p> +Again Marcus thought and spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, since I must, I will become a Christian.” +</p> + +<p> +She looked at him sadly and answered: +</p> + +<p> +“It is not enough. Do you remember what I told you far away in the +village of the Essenes, that this is no matter of casting incense on an altar, +but rather one of a changed spirit. When you can say those words from your +heart as well as with your lips, then, Marcus, I will listen to you, but unless +God calls you this you can never do.” +</p> + +<p> +“What then do you propose?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I? I have not had time to think. To go away, I suppose.” +</p> + +<p> +“To Domitian?” he queried. “Nay, forgive me, but a sore heart +makes bitter lips.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am glad you asked forgiveness for those words, Marcus,” she said +quivering. “What need is there to insult a slave?” +</p> + +<p> +The word seemed to suggest a new train of thought to Marcus. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” he said, “a slave—my slave whom I have bought at +a great price. Well, why should I let you go? I am minded to keep you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Marcus, you can keep me if you will, but then your sin against your own +honour will be greater even than your sin against me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sin!” he said, passionately. “What sin? You say you cannot +marry me, not because you do not wish it, if I understand you right, but for +other reasons which have weight, at any rate with you. But the dead give no +command as to whom you should love.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, my love is my own, but if it is not lawful it can be denied.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why should it be denied?” he asked softly and coming towards her. +“Is there not much between you and me? Did not you, brave and blessed +woman that you are, risk your life for my sake in the Old Tower at Jerusalem? +Did you not for my sake stand there upon the gate Nicanor to perish miserably? +And I, though it be little, have I not done something for you? Have I not so +soon as your message reached me, journeyed here to Rome, at the cost, perhaps, +of what I value more than life—my honour?” +</p> + +<p> +“Your honour?” she asked. “Why your honour?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because those who have been taken prisoner by the enemy and escaped are +held to be cowards among the Romans,” he answered bitterly, “and it +may be that such a lot awaits me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Coward! You a coward, Marcus?” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye. When it is known that I live, that is what my enemies will call me +who lived on for your sake, Miriam—for the sake of a woman who denies +me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” she said, “this is bitter. Now I remember and +understand what Gallus meant.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then will you still deny me? Must I suffer thus in vain? Think, had it +not been for you I could have stayed afar until the thing was forgotten, that +is, if I still chose to live; but now, because of you, things are thus, and +yet, Miriam—you deny me,” and he put his arms about her and drew +her to his breast. +</p> + +<p> +She did not struggle, she had no strength, only she wrung her hands and sobbed, +saying: +</p> + +<p> +“What shall I do? Woe is me, what shall I do?” +</p> + +<p> +“Do?” said the voice of Nehushta, speaking clear as a clarion from +the shadows. “Do your duty, girl, and leave the rest to Heaven.” +</p> + +<p> +“Silence, accursed woman!” gasped Marcus, turning pale with anger. +</p> + +<p> +“Nay,” she answered, “I will not be silent. Listen, Roman; I +like you well, as you have reason to know, seeing that it was I who nursed you +back to life, when for one hour’s want of care you must have died. I like +you well, and above everything on earth I wish that ere my eyes shut for the +last time they may see your hand in her hand, and her hand in your hand, man +and wife before the face of all men. Yet I tell you that now indeed you are a +coward in a deeper fashion than that the Romans dream of; you are a coward who +try to work upon the weakness of this poor girl’s loving heart, who try +in the hour of her sore distress to draw her from the spirit, if not from the +letter, of her duty. So great a coward are you that you remind her even that +she is your slave and threaten to deal with her as you heathen deal with +slaves. You put a gloss upon the truth; you try to filch the fruit you may not +pluck; you say ‘you may not marry me, but you are my property, and +therefore if you give way to your master it is no sin.’ I tell you it is +a sin, doubly a sin, since you would bind the weight of it on her back as well +as on your own, and a sin that in this way or in that would bring its reward to +both of you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you finished?” asked Marcus coldly, but suffering Miriam to +slip from his arms back upon the couch. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I have not finished; I spoke of the fruits of evil; now as my heart +prompts me I speak of the promise of good. Let this woman go free as you have +the power to do; strike the chains off her neck and take back the price that +you have paid for her, since she has property which will discharge it to the +last farthing, which property to-day stands in her name and can be conveyed to +you. Then, go search the Scriptures and see if you can find no message in them. +If you find it, well and good, then take her with a clean heart and be happy. +If you find it not, well and good, then leave her with a clean heart and be +sorrowful, for so it is decreed. Only in this matter do not dare to be +double-minded, lest the last evil overtake you and her, and your children and +hers. Now I have done, and, my lord Marcus, be so good as to signify your +pleasure to your slave, Pearl-Maiden, and your servant, Nehushta the +Libyan.” +</p> + +<p> +Marcus began to walk up and down the room, out of the light into the shadow, +out of the shadow into the light. Presently he halted, and the two women +watching saw that his face was drawn and ashen, like the face of an old man. +</p> + +<p> +“My pleasure,” he said vacantly, “—that is a strange +word on my lips to-night, is it not? Well, Nehushta, you have the best of the +argument. All you say is quite true, if a little over-coloured. Of course, +Miriam is quite right not to marry me if she has scruples, and, of course, I +should be quite wrong to take advantage of the accident of my being able to +purchase her in the slave-ring. I think that is all I have to say. Miriam, I +free you, as indeed I remember I promised the Essenes that I would do. Since no +one knows you belong to me, I suppose that no formal ceremony will be +necessary. It is a manumission ‘inter amicos,’ as the lawyers say, +but quite valid. As to the title to the Tyre property, I accept it in payment +of the debt, but I beg that you will keep it a while on my behalf, for, at +present, there might be trouble about transferring it into my name. Now, +good-night. Nehushta will take you to her room, Miriam, and to-morrow you can +depart whither you will. I wish you all fortune, and—why do you not thank +me? Under the circumstances, it would be kind.” +</p> + +<p> +But Miriam only burst into a flood of tears. +</p> + +<p> +“What will you do, Marcus? Oh! what will you do?” she sobbed. +</p> + +<p> +“In all probability, things which I would rather you did not know +of,” he answered bitterly, “or I may take it into my head to accept +the suggestion of our friend, Nehushta, and begin to search those Scriptures of +which I have heard so much; that seem, by the way, specially designed to +prevent the happiness of men and women.” Then he added fiercely, +“Go, girl, go at once, for if you stand there weeping before me any +longer, I tell you that I shall change my mind, and as Nehushta says, imperil +the safety of your soul, and of my own—which does not matter.” +</p> + +<p> +So Miriam stumbled from the room and through the curtained doorway. As Nehushta +followed her Marcus caught her by the arm. +</p> + +<p> +“I have half a mind to murder you,” he said, quietly. +</p> + +<p> +The old Libyan only laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“All I have said is true and for your own good, Marcus,” she +answered, “and you will live to know it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where will you take her?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know yet, but Christians always have friends.” +</p> + +<p> +“You will let me hear of her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Surely, if it is safe.” +</p> + +<p> +“And if she needs help you will tell me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Surely, and if you need her help, and it can be done, I will bring her +to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then may I need help soon,” he said. “Begone.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap25"></a>CHAPTER XXV<br/> +THE REWARD OF SATURIUS</h2> + +<p> +Meanwhile, in one of the palaces of the Cæsars not far from the Capitol, was +being enacted another and more stormy scene. It was the palace of Domitian, +whither, the bewildering pomp of the Triumph finished at last, the prince had +withdrawn himself in no happy mood. That day many things had happened to vex +him. First and foremost, as had been brought home to his mind from minute to +minute throughout the long hours, its glory belonged not to himself, not even +to his father, Vespasian, but to his brother, the conqueror of the Jews. Titus +he had always hated, Titus, who was as beloved of mankind for his virtues, such +as virtues were in that age, as he, Domitian, was execrated for his vices. Now +Titus had returned after a brilliant and successful campaign to be crowned as +Cæsar, to be accepted as the sharer of his father’s government, and to +receive the ovations of the populace, while his brother Domitian must ride +almost unnoted behind his chariot. The plaudits of the roaring mob, the +congratulations of the Senate, the homage of the knights and subject princes, +the offerings of foreign kings, all laid at the feet of Titus, filled him with +a jealousy that went nigh to madness. Soothsayers had told him, it was true, +that his hour would come, that he would live and reign after Vespasian and +Titus had gone down, both of them, to Hades. But even if they spoke the truth +this hour seemed a long way off. +</p> + +<p> +Also there were other things. At the great sacrifice before the temple of +Jupiter, his place had been set too far back where the people could not see +him; at the feast which followed the master of the ceremonies had neglected, or +had forgotten, to pour a libation in his honour. +</p> + +<p> +Further, the beautiful captive, Pearl-Maiden, had appeared in the procession +unadorned by the costly girdle which he had sent her; while, last of all, the +different wines that he had drunk had disagreed with him, so that because of +them, or of the heat of the sun, he suffered from the headache and sickness to +which he was liable. Pleading this indisposition as an excuse, Domitian left +the banquet very early, and attended by his slaves and musicians retired to his +own palace. +</p> + +<p> +Here his spirits revived somewhat, since he knew that before long his +chamberlain, Saturius, would appear with the lovely Jewish maiden upon whom he +had set his fancy. This at least was certain, for he had arranged that the +auction should be held that evening and instructed him to buy her at all costs, +even for a thousand sestertia. Indeed, who would dare to bid for a slave that +the Prince Domitian desired? +</p> + +<p> +Learning that Saturius had not yet arrived, he went to his private chambers, +and to pass away the time commanded his most beautiful slaves to dance before +him, where he inflamed himself by drinking more wine of a vintage that he +loved. As the fumes of the strong liquor mounted to his brain the pains in his +head ceased, at any rate for a while. Very soon he became half-drunk, and as +was his nature when in drink, savage. One of the dancing slaves stumbled and +growing nervous stepped out of time, whereon he ordered the poor half-naked +girl to be scourged before him by the hands of her own companions. Happily for +her, however, before the punishment began a slave arrived with the intelligence +that Saturius waited without. +</p> + +<p> +“What, alone?” said the prince, springing to his feet. +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, lord,” said the slave, “there is a woman with +him.” +</p> + +<p> +At this news instantly his ill-temper was forgotten. +</p> + +<p> +“Let that girl go,” he said, “and bid her be more careful +another time. Away, all the lot of you, I wish to be private. Now, slave, bid +the worthy Saturius enter with his charge.” +</p> + +<p> +Presently the curtains were drawn apart and through them came Saturius rubbing +his hands and smiling somewhat nervously, followed by a woman wrapped in a long +cloak and veiled. He began to offer the customary salutations, but Domitian cut +him short. +</p> + +<p> +“Rise, man,” he said. “That sort of thing is very well in +public, but I don’t want it here. So you have got her,” he added, +eyeing the draped form in the background. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” replied Saturius doubtfully. +</p> + +<p> +“Good, your services shall be remembered. You were ever a discreet and +faithful agent. Did the bidding run high?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! my lord, enormous, ee—normous. I never heard such +bidding,” and he stretched out his hands. +</p> + +<p> +“Impertinence! Who dared to compete with me?” remarked Domitian. +“Well, what did you have to give?” +</p> + +<p> +“Fifty sestertia, my lord.” +</p> + +<p> +“Fifty sestertia?” answered Domitian with an air of relief. +“Well, of course it is enough, but I have known beautiful maidens fetch +more. By the way, dear one,” he went on, addressing the veiled woman, +“you must, I fear, be tired after all that weary, foolish show.” +</p> + +<p> +The “dear one” making no audible reply, Domitian went on: +</p> + +<p> +“Modesty is pleasing in a maid, but now I pray you, forget it for awhile. +Unveil yourself, most beautiful, that I may behold that loveliness for which my +heart has ached these many days. Nay, that task shall be my own,” and he +advanced somewhat unsteadily towards his prize. +</p> + +<p> +Saturius thought that he saw his chance. Domitian was so intoxicated that it +would be useless to attempt to explain matters that night. Clearly he should +retire as soon as possible. +</p> + +<p> +“Most noble prince and patron,” he began, “my duty is done, +with your leave I will withdraw.” +</p> + +<p> +“By no means, by no means,” hiccupped Domitian, “I know that +you are an excellent judge of beauty, most discriminating Saturius, and I +should like to talk over the points of this lady with you. You know, dear +Saturius, that I am not selfish, and to tell the truth, which you won’t +mind between friends—who could be jealous of a wizened, last year’s +walnut of a man like you? Not I, Saturius, not I, whom everybody acknowledges +to be the most beautiful person in Rome, much better looking than Titus is, +although he does call himself Cæsar. Now for it. Where’s the fastening? +Saturius, find the fastening. Why do you tie up the poor girl like an Egyptian +corpse and prevent her lord and master from looking at her?” +</p> + +<p> +As he spoke the slave did something to the back of her head and the veil fell +to the ground, revealing a girl of very pleasing shape and countenance, but +who, as might be expected, looked most weary and frightened. Domitian stared at +her with his bleared and wicked eyes, while a puzzled expression grew upon his +face. +</p> + +<p> +“Very odd!” he said, “but she seems to have changed! I +thought her eyes were blue, and that she had curling black hair. Now they are +dark and she has straight hair. Where’s the necklace, too? Where’s +the necklace? Pearl-Maiden, what have you done with your necklace? Yes, and why +didn’t you wear the girdle I sent you to-day?” +</p> + +<p> +“Sir,” answered the Jewess, “I never had a +necklace——” +</p> + +<p> +“My lord Domitian,” began Saturius with a nervous laugh, +“there is a mistake—I must explain. This girl is not Pearl-Maiden. +Pearl-Maiden fetched so great a price that it was impossible that I should buy +her, even for you——” +</p> + +<p> +He stopped, for suddenly Domitian’s face had become terrible. All the +drunkenness had left it, to be replaced by a mask of savage cruelty through +which glared the pale and glittering eyes. The man appeared as he was, half +satyr and half fiend. +</p> + +<p> +“A mistake——” he said. “Oh! a mistake? And I have +been counting on her all these weeks, and now some other man has taken her from +me—the prince Domitian. And you—you dare to come to me with this +tale, and to bring this slut with you instead of my +Pearl-Maiden——” and at the thought he fairly sobbed in his +drunken, disappointed rage. Then he stepped back and began to clap his hands +and call aloud. +</p> + +<p> +Instantly slaves and guards rushed into the chamber, thinking that their lord +was threatened with some evil. +</p> + +<p> +“Men,” he said, “take that woman and kill her. No, it might +make a stir, as she was one of Titus’s captives. Don’t kill her, +thrust her into the street.” +</p> + +<p> +The girl was seized by the arms and dragged away. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! my lord,” began Saturius. +</p> + +<p> +“Silence, man, I am coming to you. Seize him, and strip him. Oh! I know +you are a freedman and a citizen of Rome. Well, soon you shall be a citizen of +Hades, I promise you. Now, bring the heavy rods and beat him till he +dies.” +</p> + +<p> +The dreadful order was obeyed, and for a while nothing was heard save the sound +of heavy blows and the smothered moans of the miserable Saturius. +</p> + +<p> +“Wretches,” yelled the Imperial brute, “you are playing, you +do not hit hard enough. I will teach you how to hit,” and snatching a rod +from one of the slaves he rushed at his prostrate chamberlain, the others +drawing back to allow their master to show his skill in flogging. +</p> + +<p> +Saturius saw Domitian come, and knew that unless he could change his purpose in +another minute the life would be battered out of him. He struggled to his +knees. +</p> + +<p> +“Prince,” he cried, “hearken ere you strike. You can kill me +if you will who are justly angered, and to die at your hands is an honour that +I do not merit. Yet, dread lord, remember that if you slay me then you will +never find that Pearl-Maiden whom you desire.” +</p> + +<p> +Domitian paused, for even in his fury he was cunning. “Doubtless,” +he thought, “the knave knows where the girl is. Perhaps even he has +hidden her away for himself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” he said aloud, quoting the vulgar proverb, “‘the +rod is the mother of reason.’ Well, can you find her?” +</p> + +<p> +“Surely, if I have time. The man who can afford to pay two thousand +sestertia for a single slave cannot easily be hidden.” +</p> + +<p> +“Two thousand sestertia!” exclaimed Domitian astonished. +“Tell me that story. Slaves, give Saturius his robe and fall +back—no, not too far, he may be treacherous.” +</p> + +<p> +The chamberlain threw the garment over his bleeding shoulders and fastened it +with a trembling hand. Then he told his tale, adding: +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! my lord, what could I do? You have not enough money at hand to pay +so huge a sum.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do, fool? Why you should have bought her on credit and left me to settle +the price afterwards. Oh! never mind Titus, I could have outwitted him. But the +mischief is done; now for the remedy, so far as it can be remedied,” he +added, grinding his teeth. +</p> + +<p> +“That I must seek to-morrow, lord.” +</p> + +<p> +“To-morrow? And what will you do to-morrow?” +</p> + +<p> +“To-morrow I will find where the girl’s gone, or try to, and +then—why he who has bought her might die and—the rest will be +easy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Die he surely shall be who has dared to rob Domitian of his +darling,” answered the prince with an oath. “Well, hearken, +Saturius, for this night you are spared, but be sure that if you fail for the +second time you also shall die, and after a worse fashion than I promised you. +Now go, and to-morrow we will take counsel. Oh! ye gods, why do you deal so +hardly with Domitian? My soul is bruised and must be comforted with poesy. +Rouse that Greek from his bed and send him to me. He shall read to me of the +wrath of Achilles when they robbed him of his Briseis, for the hero’s lot +is mine.” +</p> + +<p> +So this new Achilles departed, now that his rage had left him, weeping maudlin +tears of disappointed passion, to comfort his “bruised soul” with +the immortal lines of Homer, for when he was not merely a brute Domitian +fancied himself a poet. It was perhaps as well for his peace of mind that he +could not see the face of Saturius, as the chamberlain comforted his bruised +shoulders with some serviceable ointment, or hear the oath which that useful +and industrious officer uttered as he sought his rest, face downwards, since +for many days thereafter he was unable to lie upon his back. It was a very ugly +oath, sworn by every god who had an altar in Rome, with the divinities of the +Jews and the Christians thrown in, that in a day to come he would avenge +Domitian’s rods with daggers. Had the prince been able to do so, there +might have risen in his mind some prescience of a certain scene, in which he +must play a part on a far-off but destined night. He might have beheld a vision +of himself, bald, corpulent and thin-legged, but wearing the imperial robes of +Cæsar, rolling in a frantic struggle for life upon the floor of his +bed-chamber, at death grips with one Stephanus, while an old chamberlain named +Saturius drove a dagger again and again into his back, crying at each stroke: +</p> + +<p> +“Oho! That for thy rods, Cæsar! Oho! Dost remember the Pearl-Maiden? That +for thy rods, Cæsar, and that—and that—and +<i>that</i>——!” +</p> + +<p> +But Domitian, weeping himself to sleep over the tale of the wrongs of the +god-like Achilles, which did but foreshadow those of his divine self, as yet +thought nothing of the rich reward that time should bring him. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +On the morrow of the great day of the Triumph the merchant Demetrius of +Alexandria, whom for many years we have known as Caleb, sat in the office of +the store-house which he had hired for the bestowal of his goods in one of the +busiest thoroughfares of Rome. Handsome, indeed, noble-looking as he was, and +must always be, his countenance presented a sorry sight. From hour to hour +during the previous day he had fought a path through the dense crowds that +lined the streets of Rome, to keep as near as might be to Miriam while she +trudged her long route of splendid shame. +</p> + +<p> +Then came the evening, when, with the other women slaves, she was put up to +auction in the Forum. To prepare for this sale Caleb had turned almost all his +merchandise into money, for he knew that Domitian was a purchaser, and guessed +that the price of the beautiful Pearl-Maiden, of whom all the city was talking, +would rule high. The climax we know. He bid to the last coin that he possessed +or could raise, only to find that others with still greater resources were in +the market. Even the agent of the prince had been left behind, and Miriam was +at last knocked down to some mysterious stranger woman dressed like a peasant. +The woman was veiled and disguised; she spoke with a feigned voice and in a +strange tongue, but from the beginning Caleb knew her. Incredible as it might +seem, that she should be here in Rome, he was certain that she was Nehushta, +and no other. +</p> + +<p> +That Nehushta should buy Miriam was well, but how came she by so vast a sum of +money, here in a far-off land? In short, for whom was she buying? Indeed, for +whom would she buy? He could think of one only—Marcus. But he had made +inquiries and Marcus was not in Rome. Indeed he had every reason to believe +that his rival was long dead, that his bones were scattered among the tens of +thousands which whitened the tumbled ruins of the Holy City in Judæa. How could +it be otherwise? He had last seen him wounded, as he thought to death—and +he should know, for the stroke fell from his own hand—lying senseless in +the Old Tower in Jerusalem. Then he vanished away, and where Marcus had been +Miriam was found. Whither did he vanish, and if it was true that she succeeded +in hiding him in some secret hole, what chance was there that he could have +lived on without food and unsuccoured? Also if he lived, why had he not +appeared long before? Why was not so wealthy a Patrician and distinguished a +soldier riding in the triumphant train of Titus? +</p> + +<p> +With black despair raging in his breast, he, Caleb, had seen Miriam knocked +down to the mysterious basket-laden stranger whom none could recognise. He had +seen her depart together with the auctioneer and a servant, also basket-laden, +to the office of the receiving house, whither he had attempted to follow upon +some pretext, only to be stopped by the watchman. After this he hung about the +door until he saw the auctioneer appear alone, when it occurred to him that the +purchaser and the purchased must have departed by some other exit, perhaps in +order to avoid further observation. He ran round the building to find himself +confronted only by the empty, star-lit spaces of the Forum. Searching them with +his eyes, for one instant it seemed to him that far away he caught sight of a +little knot of figures climbing a black marble stair in the dark shadow of some +temple. He sped across the open space, he ran up the great stair, to find at +the head of it a young man in whom he recognised the auctioneer’s clerk, +gazing along a wide street as empty as was the stair. +</p> + +<p> +The rest is known to us. He followed, and twice perceived the little group of +dark-robed figures hurrying round distant corners. Once he lost them +altogether, but a passer-by on his road to some feast told him courteously +enough which way they had gone. On he ran almost at hazard, to be rewarded in +the end by the sight of them vanishing through a narrow doorway in the wall. He +came to the door and saw that it was very massive. He tried it even, it was +locked. Then he thought of knocking, only to remember that to state his +business would probably be to meet his death. At such a place and hour those +who purchased beautiful slaves might have a sword waiting for the heart of an +unsuccessful rival who dared to follow them to their haunts. +</p> + +<p> +Caleb walked round the house, to find that it was a palace which seemed to be +deserted, although he thought that he saw light shining through one of the +shuttered windows. Now he knew the place again. It was here that the procession +had halted and one of the Roman soldiers who had committed the crime of being +taken captive escaped the taunts of the crowd by hurling himself beneath the +wheel of a great pageant car. Yes, there was no doubt of it, for his blood +still stained the dusty stones and by it lay a piece of the broken distaff with +which, in their mockery, they had girded the poor man. They were gentle folk, +these Romans! Why, measured by this standard, some such doom would have fallen +upon his rival, Marcus, for Marcus also was taken prisoner—by himself. +The thought made Caleb smile, since well he knew that no braver soldier lived. +Then came other thoughts that pressed him closer. Somewhere in that great +dead-looking house was Miriam, as far off from him as though she were still in +Judæa. There was Miriam—and who was with her? The new-found lord who had +spent two thousand sestertia on her purchase? The thought of it almost turned +his brain. +</p> + +<p> +Heretofore, the life of Caleb had been ruled by two passions—ambition and +the love of Miriam. He had aspired to be ruler of the Jews, perhaps their king, +and to this end had plotted and fought for the expulsion of the Romans from +Judæa. He had taken part in a hundred desperate battles. Again and again he had +risked his life; again and again he had escaped. For one so young he had +reached high rank, till he was numbered among the first of their captains. +</p> + +<p> +Then came the end, the last hideous struggle and the downfall. Once more his +life was left in him. Where men perished by the hundred thousand he escaped, +winning safety, not through the desire of it, but because of the love of Miriam +which drove him on to follow her. Happily for himself he had hidden money, +which, after the gift of his race, he was able to turn to good account, so that +now he, who had been a leader in war and council, walked the world as a +merchant in Eastern goods. All that glittering past had gone from him; he might +become wealthy, but, Jew as he was, he could never be great nor fill his soul +with the glory that it craved. There remained to him, then, nothing but this +passion for one woman among the millions who dwelt beneath the sun, the girl +who had been his playmate, whom he loved from the beginning, although she had +never loved him, and whom he would love until the end. +</p> + +<p> +Why had she not loved him? Because of his rival, that accursed Roman, Marcus, +the man whom time upon time he had tried to kill, but who had always slipped +like water from his hands. Well, if she was lost to him she was lost to Marcus +also, and from that thought he would take such comfort as he might. Indeed he +had no other, for during those dreadful hours the fires of all Gehenna raged in +his soul. He had lost—but who had found her? +</p> + +<p> +Throughout the long night Caleb tramped round the cold, empty-looking palace, +suffering perhaps as he had never suffered before, a thing to be pitied of gods +and men. At length the dawn broke and the light crept down the splendid street, +showing here and there groups of weary and half-drunken revellers staggering +homewards from the feast, flushed men and dishevelled women. Others appeared +also, humble and industrious citizens going to their daily toil. Among them +were people whose business it was to clean the roads, abroad early this +morning, for after the great procession they thought that they might find +articles of value let fall by those who walked in it, or by the spectators. Two +of these scavengers began sweeping near the place where Caleb stood, and +lightened their toil by laughing at him, asking him if he had spent his night +in the gutter and whether he knew his way home. He replied that he waited for +the doors of the house to be opened. +</p> + +<p> +“Which house?” they asked. “The ‘Fortunate +House?’” and they pointed to the marble palace of Marcus, which, as +Caleb now saw for the first time, had these words blazoned in gold letters on +its portico. +</p> + +<p> +He nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said one of them, “you will wait for some time, for +that house is no longer fortunate. Its owner is dead, killed in the wars, and +no one knows who his heir may be.” +</p> + +<p> +“What was his name?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Marcus, the favourite of Nero, also called the Fortunate.” +</p> + +<p> +Then, with a bitter curse upon his lips Caleb turned and walked away. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap26"></a>CHAPTER XXVI<br/> +THE JUDGMENT OF DOMITIAN</h2> + +<p> +Two hours had gone by and Caleb, with fury in his heart, sat brooding in the +office attached to the warehouse that he had hired. At that moment he had but +one desire—to kill his successful rival, Marcus. Marcus had escaped and +returned to Rome; of that there could be no doubt. He, one of the wealthiest of +its patricians, had furnished the vast sum which enabled old Nehushta to buy +the coveted Pearl-Maiden in the slave-ring. Then his newly acquired property +had been taken to this house, where he awaited her. This then was the end of +their long rivalry; for this he, Caleb, had fought, toiled, schemed and +suffered. Oh! rather than such a thing should be, in that dark hour of his +soul, he would have seen her cast to the foul Domitian, for Domitian, at least, +she would have hated, whereas Marcus, he knew, she loved. +</p> + +<p> +Now there remained nothing but revenge. Revenged he must be, but how? He might +dog Marcus and murder him, only then his own life would be hazarded, since he +knew well the fate that awaited the foreigner, and most of all the Jew, who +dared to lift his hand against a Roman noble, and if he hired others to do the +work they might bear evidence against him. Now Caleb did not wish to die; life +seemed the only good that he had left. Also, while he lived he might still win +Miriam—after his rival had ceased to live. Doubtless, then she would be +sold with his other slaves, and he could buy her at the rate such tarnished +goods command. No, he would do nothing to run himself into danger. He would +wait, wait and watch his opportunity. +</p> + +<p> +It was near at hand, for of old as to-day the king of evil was ever ready to +aid those who called upon him with sufficient earnestness. Indeed, even as +Caleb sat there in his office, there came a knock upon the door. +</p> + +<p> +“Open!” he cried savagely, and through it entered a small man with +close-cropped hair and a keen, hard face which seemed familiar to him. Just +now, however, that face was somewhat damaged, for one of the eyes had been +blackened and a wound upon the temple was strapped with plaster. Also its owner +walked lame and continually twitched his shoulders as though they gave him +uneasiness. The stranger opened his lips to speak, and Caleb knew him at once. +He was the chamberlain of Domitian who had been outbid by Nehushta in the slave +ring. +</p> + +<p> +“Greeting, noble Saturius,” he said. “Be seated, I pray, for +it seems to pain you to stand.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes,” answered the chamberlain, “still I had rather +stand. I met with an accident last night, a most unpleasant accident,” +and he coughed as though to cover up some word that leapt to his lips. +“You also, worthy Demetrius—that is your name, is it not?” he +added, eyeing him keenly—“look as though you had not slept +well.” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” answered Caleb, “I also met with an accident—oh! +nothing that you can see—a slight internal injury which is, I fear, +likely to prove troublesome. Well, noble Saturius, how can I—serve you? +Anything in the way of Eastern shawls, for instance?” +</p> + +<p> +“I thank you, friend, no. I come to speak of shoulders, not +shawls,” and he twitched his own—“women’s shoulders, I +mean. A remarkably fine pair for their size had that Jewish captive, by the +way, in whom you seemed to take an interest last night—to the +considerable extent indeed of fourteen hundred sestertia.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Caleb, “they were well shaped.” +</p> + +<p> +Then followed a pause. +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps as I am a busy man,” suggested Caleb presently, “you +would not mind coming to the point.” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly, I was but waiting for your leave. As you may have heard, I +represent a very noble person——” +</p> + +<p> +“Who, I think, took an interest in the captive to the extent of fifteen +hundred sestertia,” suggested Caleb. +</p> + +<p> +“Quite so—and whose interest unfortunately remains unabated, or +rather, I should say, that it is transferred.” +</p> + +<p> +“To the gentleman whose deep feeling induced him to provide five hundred +more?” queried Caleb. +</p> + +<p> +“Precisely. What intuition you have! It is a gift with which the East +endows her sons.” +</p> + +<p> +“Suppose you put the matter plainly, worthy Saturius.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will, excellent Demetrius. The great person to whom I have alluded was +so moved when he heard of his loss that he actually burst into tears, and even +reproached me, whom he loves more dearly than his brother——” +</p> + +<p> +“He might easily do that, if all reports are true,” said Caleb, +drily, adding, “Was it then that you met with your accident?” +</p> + +<p> +“It was. Overcome at the sight of my royal master’s grief, I fell +down.” +</p> + +<p> +“Into a well, I suppose, since you managed to injure your eye, your back, +and your leg all at once. There—I understand—these things will +happen—in the households of the Great where the floors are so slippery +that the most wary feet may slide. But that does not console the sufferer whose +hurt remains, does it?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” answered Saturius with a snarl, “but until he is in a +position to relay the floors, he must find chalk for his sandals and ointment +for his back. I want the purchaser’s name, and thought perhaps that you +might have it, for the old woman has vanished, and that fool of an auctioneer +knows absolutely nothing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why do you want his name?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because Domitian wants his head. An unnatural desire indeed that devours +him; still one which, to be frank, I find it important to satisfy.” +</p> + +<p> +Of a sudden a great light seemed to shine in Caleb’s mind, it was as +though a candle had been lit in a dark room. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” he said. “And supposing I can show him how to get this +head, even how to get it without any scandal, do you think that in return he +would leave me the lady’s hand? You see I knew her in her youth and take +a brotherly interest in her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Quite so, just like Domitian and the two thousand sestertia man and, +indeed, half the male population of Rome, who, when they saw her yesterday were +moved by the same family feeling. Well, I don’t see why he +shouldn’t. You see my master never cared for pearls that were not +perfectly white, or admired ladies upon whom report cast the slightest breath +of scandal. But he is of a curiously jealous disposition, and it is, I think, +the head that he requires, not the hand.” +</p> + +<p> +“Had you not better make yourself clear upon the point before we go any +further?” asked Caleb. “Otherwise I do not feel inclined to +undertake a very difficult and dangerous business.” +</p> + +<p> +“With pleasure. Now would you let me have your demands, in writing, +perhaps. Oh! of course, I understand—to be answered in writing.” +</p> + +<p> +Caleb took parchment and pen and wrote: +</p> + +<p> +“A free pardon, with full liberty to travel, live and trade throughout +the Roman empire, signed by the proper authorities, to be granted to one Caleb, +the son of Hilliel, for the part he took in the Jewish war. +</p> + +<p> +“A written promise, signed by the person concerned, that if the head he +desires is put within his reach the Jewish slave named Pearl-Maiden shall be +handed over at once to Demetrius, the merchant of Alexandria, whose property +she shall become absolutely and without question.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s all,” he said, giving the paper to Saturius. +“The Caleb spoken of is a Jewish friend of mine to whom I am anxious to +do a good turn, without whose help and evidence I should be quite unable to +perform my share of the bargain. Being very shy and timid—his nerves were +much shattered during the siege of Jerusalem—he will not stir without +this authority, which, by the way, will require the signature of Titus Cæsar, +duly witnessed. Well, that is merely an offering to friendship; of course +<i>my</i> fee is the reversion to the lady, whom I desire to restore to her +relations, who mourn her loss in Judæa.” +</p> + +<p> +“Precisely—quite so,” replied Saturius. “Pray do not +trouble to explain further. I have always found those of Alexandria most +excellent merchants. Well, I hope to be back within two hours.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mind you come alone. As I have told you, everything depends upon this +Caleb, and if he is in any way alarmed there is an end of the affair. He only +has a possible key to the mystery. Should it be lost your patron will never get +his head, and I shall never get my hand.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! bid the timid Caleb have no fear. Who would wish to harm a dirty +Jewish deserter from his cause and people? Let him come out of his sewer and +look upon the sun. The Cæsars do not war with carrion rats. Most worthy +Demetrius, I go swiftly, as I hope to return again with all you need.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good, most noble Saturius, and for both our sakes—remember that +the palace floor is slippery, and do not get another fall, for it might finish +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am in deep waters, but I think that I can swim well,” reflected +Caleb as the door closed behind his visitor. “At any rate it gives me a +chance who have no other, and that prince is playing for revenge, not love. +What can Miriam be to him beyond the fancy of an hour, of which a thief has +robbed him? Doubtless he wishes to kill the thief, but kings do not care for +faded roses, which are only good enough to weave the chaplet of a merchant of +Alexandria. So I cast for the last time, let the dice fall as it is +fated.” +</p> + +<p> +Very shortly afterwards in the palace of Domitian the dice began to fall. +Humbly, most humbly, did that faithful chamberlain, Saturius, lay the results +of his mission before his august master, Domitian, who suffering from a severe +bilious attack that had turned his ruddy complexion to a dingy yellow, and made +the aspect of his pale eyes more unpleasant than usual, was propped up among +cushions, sniffing attar of roses and dabbing vinegar water upon his forehead. +</p> + +<p> +He listened indifferently to the tale of his jackal, until the full meaning of +the terms asked by the mysterious Eastern merchant penetrated his sodden brain. +</p> + +<p> +“Why,” he said, “the man wants Pearl-Maiden; that’s his +share, while mine is the life of the fellow who bought her, whoever he may be. +Are you still mad, man, that you should dare to lay such a proposal before me? +Don’t you understand that I need both the woman and the blood of him who +dared to cheat me out of her?” +</p> + +<p> +“Most divine prince, I understand perfectly, but this fish is only +biting; he must be tempted or he will tell nothing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why not bring him here and torture him?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have thought of that, but those Jews are so obstinate. While you were +twisting the truth out of him the other man would escape with the girl. Much +better promise everything he asks and then——” +</p> + +<p> +“And then—what?” +</p> + +<p> +“And then forget your promises. What can be simpler?” +</p> + +<p> +“But he needs them in writing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let him have them in writing, my writing, which your divine self can +repudiate. Only the pardon to Caleb, who I suppose is this Demetrius himself, +can be signed by Titus. It will not affect you whether a Jew more or less has +the right to trade in the Empire, if thereby you can win his services in an +important matter. Then, when the time comes, you can net both your unknown +rival and the lady, leaving our friend Demetrius to report the facts to her +relatives in Judæa, for whom, as he states, he is alone concerned.” +</p> + +<p> +“Saturius,” said Domitian, growing interested, “you are not +so foolish as I thought you were. Decidedly that trouble last night has +quickened your wits. Be so good as to stop wriggling your shoulders, will you, +it makes me nervous, and I wish that you would have that eye of yours painted. +You know that I cannot bear the sight of black; it reminds me, who am by nature +joyous and light-hearted as a child, of melancholy things. Now forge a letter +for my, or rather for your signature, promising the reversion of Pearl-Maiden +to this Demetrius. Then bear my greetings to Titus, begging his signature to an +order granting the desired privileges to one Caleb, a Jew who fought against +him at Jerusalem—with less success than I could have wished—whom I +desire to favour.” +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +Three hours later Saturius presented himself for the second time in the office +of the Alexandrian merchant. +</p> + +<p> +“Most worthy Demetrius,” he said, “I congratulate you. +Everything has been arranged as you wish. Here is the order, signed by Titus +and duly witnessed, granting to you—I mean to your friend, +Caleb—pardon for whatever he may have done in Judæa, and permission to +live and trade anywhere that he may wish within the bounds of the Empire. I may +tell you that it was obtained with great difficulty, since Titus, worn out with +toil and glory, leaves this very day for his villa by the sea, where he is +ordered by his physicians to rest three months, taking no part whatever in +affairs. Does the document satisfy you?” +</p> + +<p> +Caleb examined the signatures and seals. +</p> + +<p> +“It seems to be in order,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“It is in order, excellent Demetrius. Caleb can now appear in the Forum, +if it pleases him, and lecture upon the fall of Jerusalem for the benefit of +the vulgar. Well, here also is a letter from the divine—or rather the +half divine—Domitian to yourself, Demetrius of Alexandria, also witnessed +by myself and sealed. It promises to you that if you give evidence enabling him +to arrest that miscreant who dared to bid against him—no, do not be +alarmed, the lady was not knocked down to you—you shall be allowed to +take possession of her or to buy her at a reasonable valuation, not to exceed +fifteen sestertia. That is as much as she will fetch now in the open market. +Are you satisfied with this document?” +</p> + +<p> +Caleb read and scrutinised the letter. +</p> + +<p> +“The signatures of Domitian and of yourself as witness seem much +alike,” he remarked suspiciously. +</p> + +<p> +“Somewhat,” replied Saturius, with an airy gesture. “In royal +houses it is customary for chamberlains to imitate the handwriting of their +imperial masters.” +</p> + +<p> +“And their morals—no, they have none—their manners +also,” commented Caleb. +</p> + +<p> +“At the least,” went on Saturius, “you will acknowledge the +seals——” +</p> + +<p> +“Which might be borrowed. Well, I will take the risk, for if there is +anything wrong about these papers I am sure that the prince Domitian would not +like to see them exhibited in a court of law.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good,” answered Saturius, with a relief which he could not +altogether conceal. “And now for the culprit’s name.” +</p> + +<p> +“The culprit’s name,” said Caleb, leaning forward and +speaking slowly, “is Marcus, who served as one of Titus Cæsar’s +prefects of horse in the campaign of Judæa. He bought the lady Miriam, commonly +known as Pearl-Maiden, by the agency of Nehushta, an old Libyan woman, who +conveyed her to his house in the Via Agrippa, which is known as the +‘Fortunate House,’ where doubtless, she now is.” +</p> + +<p> +“Marcus,” said Saturius. “Why, he was reported dead, and the +matter of the succession to his great estates is now being debated, for he was +the heir of his uncle, Caius, the pro-consul, who amassed a vast fortune in +Spain. Also after the death of the said Caius, this Marcus was a favourite of +the late divine Nero, who constituted him guardian of some bust of which he was +enamoured. In short, he is a great man, if, as you say, he still lives, whom +even Domitian will find it hard to meddle with. But how do you know all +this?” +</p> + +<p> +“Through my friend Caleb. Caleb followed the black hag, Nehushta, and the +beautiful Pearl-Maiden to the very house of Marcus, which he saw them enter. +Marcus who was her lover, yonder in Judæa——” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! never mind the rest of the story, I understand it all. But you have +not yet shown that Marcus was in the house, and if he was, bad taste as it may +have been to bid against the prince Domitian, well, at a public auction it is +lawful.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ye—es, but if Marcus has committed a crime, could he not be +punished for that crime?” +</p> + +<p> +“Without doubt. But what crime has Marcus committed?” +</p> + +<p> +“The crime of being taken prisoner by the Jews and escaping from them +with his life, for which, by an edict of Titus, whose laws are those of the +Medes and Persians, the punishment is death, or at the least, banishment and +degradation.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, and who can prove all this?” +</p> + +<p> +“Caleb can, because he took him prisoner.” +</p> + +<p> +“And where,” asked Saturius in exasperation, “where is this +thrice accursed cur, Caleb?” +</p> + +<p> +“Here,” answered Demetrius. “I am Caleb, O thrice blessed +chamberlain, Saturius.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed,” said Saturius. “Well, that makes things more +simple. And now, friend Demetrius—you prefer that name, do you +not—what do you propose?” +</p> + +<p> +“I propose that the necessary documents should be procured, which, to +your master, will not be difficult; that Marcus should be arrested in his +house, put upon his trial and condemned under the edict of Titus, and that the +girl, Pearl-Maiden, should be handed over to me, who will at once remove her +from Rome.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good,” said Saturius. “Titus having gone, leaving Domitian +in charge of military affairs, the thing, as it chances, is easy, though any +sentence that may be passed must be confirmed by Cæsar himself. And now, again +farewell. If our man is in Rome, he shall be taken to-night, and to-morrow your +evidence may be wanted.” +</p> + +<p> +“Will the girl be handed over to me then?” +</p> + +<p> +“I think so,” replied Saturius, “but of course I cannot say +for certain, as there may be legal difficulties in the way which would hinder +her immediate re-sale. However, you may rely upon me to do the best I can for +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“It will be to your advantage,” answered Caleb significantly. +“Shall we say—fifty sestertia on receipt of the slave?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! if you wish it, if you wish it, for gifts cement the hearts of +friends. On account? Well, to a man with many expenses, five sestertia always +come in useful. You know what it is in these palaces, so little pay and so much +to keep up. Thank you, dear Demetrius, I will give you and the lady a supper +out of the money—when you get her,” he added to himself as he left +the office. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +When early on the following morning Caleb came to his warehouse from the +dwelling where he slept, he found waiting for him two men dressed in the livery +of Domitian, who demanded that he would accompany them to the palace of the +prince. +</p> + +<p> +“What for?” +</p> + +<p> +“To give evidence in a trial,” they said. +</p> + +<p> +Then he knew that he had made no mistake, that his rival was caught, and in the +rage of his burning jealousy, such jealousy as only an Eastern can feel, his +heart bounded with joy. Still, as he trudged onward through streets glittering +in the morning sunlight, Caleb’s conscience told him that not thus should +this rival be overcome, that he who went to accuse the brave Marcus of +cowardice was himself a coward, and that from the lie which he was about to act +if not to speak, could spring no fruit of peace or happiness. But he was mad +and blind. He could think only of Miriam—the woman whom he loved with all +his passionate nature and whose life he had preserved at the risk of his +own—fallen at last into the arms of his rival. He would wrench her +thence, yes, even at the price of his own honour and of her life-long agony, +and, if it might be, leave those arms cold in death, as often already he had +striven to do. When Marcus was dead perhaps she would forgive him. At the least +he would occupy his place. She would be his slave, to whom, notwithstanding all +that had been, he would give the place of wife. Then, after a little while, +seeing how good and tender he was to her, surely she must forget this Roman who +had taken her girlish fancy and learn to love him. +</p> + +<p> +Now they were passing the door of the palace. In the outer hall Saturius met +them and motioned to the slaves to stand back. +</p> + +<p> +“So you have them,” said Caleb, eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, or to be exact, one of them. The lady has vanished.” +</p> + +<p> +Caleb staggered back a pace. +</p> + +<p> +“Vanished! Where?” +</p> + +<p> +“I wish that I could tell you. I thought that perhaps you knew. At least +we found Marcus alone in his house, which he was about to leave, apparently to +follow Titus. But come, the court awaits you.” +</p> + +<p> +“If she has gone, why should I come?” said Caleb, hanging back. +</p> + +<p> +“I really don’t know, but you must. Here, slaves, escort this +witness.” +</p> + +<p> +Then seeing that it was too late to change his mind, Caleb waved them back and +followed Saturius. Presently they entered an inner hall, lofty, but not large. +At the head of it, clad in the purple robes of his royal house, sat Domitian in +a chair, while to his right and left were narrow tables, at which were gathered +five or six Roman officers, those of Domitian’s own bodyguard, +bare-headed, but arrayed in their mail. Also there were two scribes with their +tablets, a man dressed in a lawyer’s robe, who seemed to fill the office +of prosecutor, and some soldiers on guard. +</p> + +<p> +When Caleb entered, Domitian, who, notwithstanding his youthful, ruddy +countenance, looked in a very evil mood, was engaged in talking earnestly to +the lawyer. Glancing up, he saw him and asked: +</p> + +<p> +“Is that the Jew who gives evidence, Saturius?” +</p> + +<p> +“My lord, it is the man,” answered the chamberlain; “also the +other witness waits without.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good. Then bring in the accused.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a pause, till presently Caleb heard footsteps behind him and looked +round to see Marcus advancing up the hall with a proud and martial air. Their +eyes met, and for an instant Marcus stopped. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” he said aloud, “the Jew Caleb. Now I understand.” +Then he marched forward and gave the military salute to the prince. +</p> + +<p> +Domitian stared at him with hate in his pale eyes, and said carelessly: +</p> + +<p> +“Is this the accused? What is the charge?” +</p> + +<p> +“The charge is,” said the lawyer, “that the accused Marcus, a +prefect of horse serving with Titus Cæsar in Judæa, suffered himself to be +taken prisoner by the Jews when in command of a large body of Roman troops, +contrary to the custom of the army and to the edict issued by Titus Cæsar at +the commencement of the siege of Jerusalem. This edict commanded that no +soldier should be taken alive, and that any soldier who was taken alive and +subsequently rescued, or who made good his escape, should be deemed worthy of +death, or at the least of degradation from his rank and banishment. My lord +Marcus, do you plead guilty to the charge?” +</p> + +<p> +“First, I ask,” said Marcus, “what court is this before which +I am put upon my trial? If I am to be tried I demand that it shall be by my +general, Titus.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then,” said the prosecutor, “you should have reported +yourself to Titus upon your arrival in Rome. Now he has gone to where he may +not be troubled, leaving the charge of military matters in the hands of his +Imperial brother, the Prince Domitian, who, with these officers, is therefore +your lawful judge.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps,” broke in Domitian with bitter malice, “the lord +Marcus was too much occupied with other pursuits on his arrival in Rome to find +time to explain his conduct to the Cæsar Titus.” +</p> + +<p> +“I was about to follow him to do so when I was seized,” said +Marcus. +</p> + +<p> +“Then you put the matter off a little too long. Now you can explain it +here,” answered Domitian. +</p> + +<p> +Then the prosecutor took up the tale, saying that it had been ascertained on +inquiry that the accused, accompanied by an old woman, arrived in Rome upon +horseback early on the morning of the Triumph; that he went straight to his +house, which was called “The House Fortunate,” where he lay hid all +day; that in the evening he sent out the old woman and a slave carrying on +their backs a great sum of gold in baskets, with which gold he purchased a +certain fair Jewish captive, known as Pearl-Maiden, at a public auction in the +Forum. This Pearl-Maiden, it would seem, was taken to his house, but when he +was arrested on the morrow neither she nor the old woman were found there. The +accused, he might add, was arrested just as he was about to leave the house, as +he stated, in order to report himself to Titus Cæsar, who had already departed +from Rome. This was the case in brief, and to prove it he called a certain Jew +named Caleb, who was now living in Rome, having received an amnesty given by +the hand of Titus. This Jew was now a merchant who traded under the name of +Demetrius. +</p> + +<p> +Then Caleb stood forward and told his tale. In answer to questions that were +put to him, he related how he was in command of a body of the Jews which fought +an action with the Roman troops at a place called the Old Tower, a few days +before the capture of the Temple. In the course of this action he parleyed with +a captain of the Romans, the Prefect Marcus, who now stood before him, and at +the end of the parley challenged him to single combat. As Marcus refused the +encounter and tried to run away, he struck him on the back with the back of his +sword. Thereon a fight ensued in which he, the witness, had the advantage. +Being wounded, the accused let fall his sword, sank to his knees and asked for +mercy. The fray having now become general he, Caleb, dragged his prisoner into +the Old Tower and returned to the battle. +</p> + +<p> +When he went back to the Tower it was to find that the captive had vanished, +leaving in his place a lady who was known to the Romans as Pearl-Maiden, and +who was afterwards taken by them and exposed for sale in the Forum, where she +was purchased by an old woman whom he recognised as her nurse. He followed the +maiden, having bid for her and being curious as to her destination, to a house +in the Via Agrippa, which he afterwards learned was the palace of the accused +Marcus. That was all he knew of the matter. +</p> + +<p> +Then the prosecutor called a soldier, who stated that he had been under the +command of Marcus on the day in question. There he saw the Jew leader, whom he +identified with Caleb, at the conclusion of a parley strike the accused, +Marcus, on the back with the flat of his sword. After this ensued a fight, in +which the Romans were repulsed. At the end of it, he saw their captain, Marcus, +being led away prisoner. His sword had gone and blood was running from the side +of his head. +</p> + +<p> +The evidence being concluded, Marcus was asked if he had anything to say in +defence. +</p> + +<p> +“Much,” he answered proudly, “when I am given a fair trial. I +desire to call the men of my legion who were with me, none of whom I see here +to-day except that man who has given evidence against me, a rogue whom, I +remember, I caused to be scourged for theft, and dismissed his company. But +they are in Egypt, so how can I summon them? As for the Jew, he is an old enemy +of mine, who was guilty of murder in his youth, and whom once I overcame in a +duel in Judæa, sparing his life. It is true that when my back was turned he +struck me with his sword, and as I flew at him smote me a blow upon the head, +from the effects of which I became senseless. In this state I was taken +prisoner and lay for weeks sick in a vault, in the care of some people of the +Jews, who nursed me. From them I escaped to Rome, desiring to report myself to +Titus Cæsar, my master. I appeal to Titus Cæsar.” +</p> + +<p> +“He is absent and I represent him,” said Domitian. +</p> + +<p> +“Then,” answered Marcus, “I appeal to Vespasian Cæsar, to +whom I will tell all. I am a Roman noble of no mean rank, and I have a right to +be tried by Cæsar, not by a packed court, whose president has a grudge against +me for private matters.” +</p> + +<p> +“Insolent!” shouted Domitian. “Your appeal shall be laid +before Cæsar, as it must—that is, if he will hear it. Tell us now, where +is that woman whom you bought in the Forum, for we desire her testimony?” +</p> + +<p> +“Prince, I do not know,” answered Marcus. “It is true that +she came to my house, but then and there I gave her freedom and she departed +from it with her nurse, nor can I tell whither she went.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought that you were only a coward, but it seems that you are a liar +as well,” sneered Domitian. Then he consulted with the officers and +added, “We judge the case to be proved against you, and for having +disgraced the Roman arms, when, rather than be taken prisoner, many a meaner +man died by his own hand, you are worthy of whatever punishment it pleases +Cæsar to inflict. Meanwhile, till his pleasure is known, I command that you +shall be confined in the private rooms of the military prison near the Temple +of Mars, and that if you attempt to escape thence you shall be put to death. +You have liberty to draw up your case in writing, that it may be transmitted to +Cæsar, my father, together with a transcript of the evidence against +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now,” replied Marcus bitterly, “I am tempted to do what you +say I should have done before, die by my own hand, rather than endure such +shameful words and this indignity. But that my honour will not suffer. When +Cæsar has heard my case and when Titus, my general, also gives his verdict +against me, I will die, but not before. You, Prince, and you, Captains, who +have never drawn sword outside the streets of Rome, you call me coward, me, who +have served with honour through five campaigns, who, from my youth till now +have been in arms, and this upon the evidence of a renegade Jew who, for years, +has been my private enemy, and of a soldier whom I scourged as a thief. Look +now upon this breast and say if it is that of a coward!” and rending his +robes asunder, Marcus exposed his bosom, scarred with four white wounds. +“Call my comrades, those with whom I have fought in Gaul, in Sicily, in +Egypt and in Judæa, and ask them if Marcus is a coward? Ask that Jew even, to +whom I gave his life, whether Marcus is a coward?” +</p> + +<p> +“Have done with your boasting,” said Domitian, “and hide +those scratches. You were taken prisoner by the Jews—it is enough. You +have your prayer, your case shall go to Cæsar. If the tale you tell is true you +would produce that woman who is said to have rescued you from the Jews and whom +you purchased as a slave. When you do this we will take her evidence. Till then +to your prison with you. Guards, remove the man Marcus, called the Fortunate, +once a Prefect of Horse in the army of Judæa.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap27"></a>CHAPTER XXVII<br/> +THE BISHOP CYRIL</h2> + +<p> +On the morning following the day of the Triumph Julia, the wife of Gallus, was +seated in her bed-chamber looking out at the yellow waters of the Tiber that +ran almost beneath its window. She had risen at dawn and attended to the +affairs of her household, and now retired to rest and pray. Mingled with the +Roman crowd on the yesterday she had seen Miriam, whom she loved, marching +wearily through the streets of Rome. Then, able to bear no more, she went home, +leaving Gallus to follow the last acts of the drama. About nine o’clock +that night he joined her and told her the story of the sale of Miriam for a +vast sum of money, since, standing in the shadow beyond the light of the +torches, he had been a witness of the scene at the slave-market. Domitian had +been outbid, and their Pearl-Maiden was knocked down to an old woman with a +basket on her back who looked like a witch, after which she vanished with her +purchaser. That was all he knew for certain. Julia thought it little enough, +and reproached her husband for his stupidity in not learning more. Still, +although she seemed to be vexed, at heart she rejoiced. Into whoever’s +hand the maid had fallen, for a while at least she had escaped the vile +Domitian. +</p> + +<p> +Now, as she sat and prayed, Gallus being abroad to gather more tidings if he +could, she heard the courtyard door open, but took no notice of it, thinking +that it was but the servant who returned from market. Presently, however, as +she knelt, a shadow fell upon her and Julia looked up to see Miriam, none other +than Miriam, and with her a dark-skinned, aged woman, whom she did not know. +</p> + +<p> +“How come you here?” she gasped. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! mother,” answered the girl in a low and thrilling voice, +“mother, by the mercy of God and by the help of this Nehushta, of whom I +have often told you, and—of another, I am escaped from Domitian, and +return to you free and unharmed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me that story,” said Julia, “for I do not understand. +The thing sounds incredible.” +</p> + +<p> +So Miriam told her tale. When it was done, Julia said: +</p> + +<p> +“Heathen though he is, this Marcus must be a noble-hearted man, whom may +Heaven reward.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” answered Miriam with a sigh, “may Heaven reward him, +as I wish I might.” +</p> + +<p> +“As you would have done had I not stayed you,” put in Nehushta. Her +voice was severe, but as she spoke something that Julia took to be a smile was +seen for an instant on her grim features. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, friend, well,” said Julia, “we have all of us fallen +into temptation from time to time.” +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon me, lady,” answered Nehushta, “but speak for +yourself. I never fell into any temptation—from a man. I know too much of +men.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, friend,” replied Julia, “return thanks for the good +armour of your wisdom. For my part, I say that, like the lord Marcus, this maid +has acted well, and my prayer is that she also may not lose her reward.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mine is,” commented Nehushta, “that Marcus may escape the +payment which he will doubtless receive from the hand of Domitian if he can +hunt him out,” a remark at which the face of Miriam grew very troubled. +</p> + +<p> +Just then Gallus returned, and to him the whole history had to be told anew. +</p> + +<p> +“It is wonderful,” he said, “wonderful! I never heard the +like of it. Two people who love each other and who, when their hour comes, +separate over some question of faith, or rather in obedience to a command laid +upon one of them by a lady who died years and years ago. Wonderful—and I +hope wise, though had I been the man concerned I should have taken another +counsel.” +</p> + +<p> +“What counsel, husband?” asked Julia. +</p> + +<p> +“Well—to get away from Rome with the lady as far as possible, and +without more delay than was necessary. It seems to me that under the +circumstances it would have been best for her to consider her scruples in +another land. You see Domitian is not a Christian any more than Marcus is, and +our maid here does not like Domitian and does like Marcus. No, it is no good +arguing the thing is done, but I think that you Christians might very well add +two new saints to your calendar. And now to breakfast, which we all need after +so much night duty.” +</p> + +<p> +So they went and ate, but during that meal Gallus was very silent, as was his +custom when he set his brain to work. Presently he asked: +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me, Miriam, did any see you or your companion enter here?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I think not,” she answered, “for as it chanced the door +of the courtyard was ajar and the servant has not yet returned.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good,” he said. “When she does return I will meet her and +send her out on a long errand.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why?” asked his wife. +</p> + +<p> +“Because it is as well that none should know what guests we have till +they are gone again.” +</p> + +<p> +“Until they are gone again!” repeated Julia, astonished. +“Surely you would not drive this maid, who has become to us as our +daughter, from your door?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I would, wife, for that dear maid’s sake,” and he took +Miriam’s little hand in his great palm and pressed it. “Listen +now,” he went on, “Miriam, the Jewish captive, has dwelt in our +care these many months, has she not, as is known to all, is it not? Well, if +any one wants to find her, where will they begin by looking?” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye! where?” echoed Nehushta. +</p> + +<p> +“Why should any one wish to find her?” asked Julia. “She was +bought in the slave-market for a great price by the lord Marcus, who, of his +own will, has set her at liberty. Now, therefore, she is a free woman whom none +can touch.” +</p> + +<p> +“A free woman!” answered Gallus with scorn. “Is any woman +free in Rome upon whom Domitian has set his mind? Surely, you Christians are +too innocent for this world. Peace now, for there is no time to lose. Julia, do +you cloak yourself and go seek that high-priest of yours, Cyril, who also loves +this maid. Tell the tale to him, and say that if he would save her from great +dangers he had best find some secret hiding-place among the Christians, for her +and her companion, until means can be found to ship them far from Rome. What +think you of that plan, my Libyan friend?” +</p> + +<p> +“I think that it is good, but not good enough,” answered Nehushta. +“I think that we had best depart with the lady, your wife, this very +hour, for who can tell how soon the dogs will be laid upon our slot?” +</p> + +<p> +“And what say you, maid Miriam?” asked Gallus. +</p> + +<p> +“I? Oh! I thank you for your thought, and I say—let us hide in any +place you will, even a drain or a stable, if it will save me from +Domitian.” +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +Two hours later, in a humble and densely peopled quarter of the city, such as +in our own day we should call a slum, where folk were employed making those +articles which ministered to the comfort or the luxury of the more fortunate, a +certain master-carpenter known as Septimus was seated at his mid-day meal in a +little chamber above his workshop. His hands were rough with toil, and the dust +of his trade was upon his garments and even powdered over his long gray beard, +so that at first sight it would not have been easy to recognise in him that +Cyril who was a bishop among the Christians. Yet it was he, one of the foremost +of the Faith in Rome. +</p> + +<p> +A woman entered the room and spoke with him in a low voice. +</p> + +<p> +“The dame Julia, the wife of Gallus, and two others with her?” he +said. “Well, we need fear none whom she brings; lead them hither.” +</p> + +<p> +Presently the door opened and Julia appeared, followed by two veiled figures. +He raised his hands to bless her, then checked himself. +</p> + +<p> +“Daughter, who are these?” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Declare yourselves,” said Julia, and at her bidding Miriam and +Nehushta unveiled. +</p> + +<p> +At the sight of Miriam’s face the bishop started, then turned to study +that of her companion. +</p> + +<p> +“Who vouches for this woman?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I vouch for myself,” answered Nehushta, “seeing that I am a +Christian who received baptism a generation since at the hands of the holy +John, and who stood to pay the price of faith in the arena at Cæsarea.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is this so?” asked the bishop of Miriam. +</p> + +<p> +“It is so,” she answered. “This Libyan was the servant of my +grandmother. She nursed both my mother and myself, and many a time has saved my +life. Have no fear, she is faithful.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your pardon,” said the bishop with a grave smile and addressing +Nehushta, “but you who are old will know that the Christian who +entertains strangers sometimes entertains a devil.” Then he lifted up his +hands and blessed them, greeting them in the name of their Master. +</p> + +<p> +“So, maid Miriam,” he said, still smiling, “it would seem +that I was no false prophet, and though you walked in the Triumph and were sold +in the slave-ring—for this much I have heard—still the Angel of the +Lord went with you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Father, he went with me,” she answered, “and he leads me +here.” +</p> + +<p> +Then they told him all the tale, and how Miriam sought a refuge from Domitian. +He looked at her, stroking his long beard. +</p> + +<p> +“Is there anything you can do?” he asked. “Anything useful, I +mean? But perhaps that is a foolish question, seeing that +women—especially those who are well-favoured—do not learn a +trade.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have learnt a trade,” answered Miriam, flushing a little. +“Once I was held of some account as a sculptor; indeed I have heard that +your Emperor Nero decreed divine honours to a bust from my hand.” +</p> + +<p> +The bishop laughed outright. “The Emperor Nero! Well, the poor madman has +gone to his own place, so let us say no more of him. But I heard of that bust; +indeed I saw it; it was a likeness of Marcus Fortunatus, was it not, and in its +fashion a great work? But our people do not make such things; we are artisans, +not artists.” +</p> + +<p> +“The artisan should be an artist,” said Miriam, setting her mouth. +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps, but as a rule he isn’t. Do you think that you could mould +lamps?” +</p> + +<p> +“There is nothing I should like better, that is if I am not forced to +copy one pattern,” she added as an afterthought. +</p> + +<p> +“Then,” said the bishop, “I think, daughter, that I can show +you how to earn a living, where none are likely to seek for you.” +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +Not a hundred paces away from the carpenter’s shop where the master +craftsman, Septimus, worked, was another manufactory, in which vases, basins, +lamps, and all such articles were designed, moulded and baked. The customers +who frequented the place, wholesale merchants for the most part, noted from and +after the day of this interview a new workwoman, who, so far as her rough +blouse permitted them to judge, seemed to be young and pretty, seated in a +corner apart, beneath a window by the light of which she laboured. Later on +they observed also, those of them who had any taste, that among the lamps +produced by the factory appeared some of singular and charming design, so good, +indeed, that although the makers reaped little extra benefit, the middlemen +found no difficulty in disposing of these pieces at a high price. All day long +Miriam sat fashioning them, while old Nehushta, who had learnt something of the +task years ago by Jordan, prepared and tempered the clay and carried the +finished work to the furnace. +</p> + +<p> +Now, though none would have guessed it, in this workshop all the labourers were +Christians, and the product of their toil was cast into a common treasury on +the proceeds of which they lived, taking, each of them, such share as their +elders might decree, and giving the surplus to brethren who had need, or to the +sick. Connected with these shops were lodging houses, mean enough to look at, +but clean within. At the top of one of them, up three flights of narrow stairs, +Miriam and Nehushta dwelt in a large attic that was very hot when the sun shone +on the roof, and very cold in the bitter winds and rains of winter. In other +respects, however, the room was not unpleasant, since being so high there were +few smells and little noise; also the air that blew in at the windows was fresh +and odorous of the open lands beyond the city. +</p> + +<p> +So there they dwelt in peace, for none came to search for the costly and +beautiful Pearl-Maiden in those squalid courts, occupied by working folk of the +meaner sort. By day they laboured, and at night they rested, ministering and +ministered to in the community of Christian brotherhood, and, notwithstanding +their fears and anxieties for themselves and another, were happier than they +had been for years. So the weeks went by. +</p> + +<p> +Very soon tidings came to them, for these Christians knew of all that passed in +the great city; also, when they met in the catacombs at night, as was their +custom, especially upon the Lord’s Day, Julia gave them news. From her +they learned that they had done wisely to flee her house. Within three hours of +their departure, indeed before Julia had returned there, officers arrived to +inquire whether they had seen anything of the Jewish captive named +Pearl-Maiden, who had been sold in the Forum on the previous night, and, as +they said, escaped from her purchaser, on whose behalf they searched. Gallus +received them, and, not being a Christian, lied boldly, vowing that he had seen +nothing of the girl since he gave her over into the charge of the servants of +Cæsar upon the morning of the Triumph. So suspecting no guile they departed and +troubled his household no more. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +From the palace of Domitian Marcus was taken to his prison near the Temple of +Mars. Here, because of his wealth and rank, because also he made appeal to +Cæsar and was therefore as yet uncondemned of any crime, he found himself well +treated. Two good rooms were given him to live in, and his own steward, +Stephanus, was allowed to attend him and provide him with food and all he +needed. Also upon giving his word that he would attempt no escape, he was +allowed to walk in the gardens between the prison and the Temple, and to +receive his friends at any hour of the day. His first visitor was the +chamberlain, Saturius, who began by condoling with him over his misfortune and +most undeserved position. Marcus cut him short. +</p> + +<p> +“Why am I here?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Because, most noble Marcus, you have been so unlucky as to incur the +displeasure of a very powerful man.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why does Domitian persecute me?” he asked again. +</p> + +<p> +“How innocent are you soldiers!” said the chamberlain. “I +will answer your question by another. Why do you buy beautiful captives upon +whom royalty chances to have set its heart?” +</p> + +<p> +Marcus thought a moment, then said, “Is there any way out of this +trouble?” +</p> + +<p> +“My lord Marcus, I came to show you one. Nobody really believes that you +of all men failed in your duty out there in Jerusalem. Why, the thing is +absurd, as even those carpet-captains before whom you were tried knew well. +Still, your position is most awkward. There is evidence against you—of a +sort. Vespasian will not interfere, for he is aware that this is some private +matter of Domitian’s, and having had one quarrel with his son over the +captive, Pearl-Maiden, he does not wish for another over the man who bought +her. No, he will say—this prefect was one of the friends and officers of +Titus, let Titus settle the affair as it may please him when he returns.” +</p> + +<p> +“At least Titus will do me justice,” said Marcus. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, without doubt, but what will that justice be? Titus issued an +edict. Have you ever known him to go back upon his edicts, even to save a +friend? Titus declared throughout his own camps those Romans who were taken +prisoner by the Jews to be worthy of death or disgrace, and two of them, common +men and cowards, have been publicly disgraced in the eyes of Rome. You were +taken prisoner by the Jews and have returned alive, unfortunately for yourself, +to incur the dislike of Domitian, who has raked up a matter that otherwise +never would have been mooted.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now,” he says to Titus—“Show justice and no favour, as +you showed in the case of the captive Pearl-Maiden, whom you refused to the +prayer of your only brother, saying that she must be sold according to your +decree. Even if he loves you dearly, as I believe he does, what, my lord +Marcus, can Titus answer to that argument, especially as he also seeks no +further quarrel with Domitian?” +</p> + +<p> +“You said you came to show me a way to safety—yet you tell me that +my feet are set in the path of disgrace and death. Must this way of yours, +then, be paved with gold?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” answered Saturius drily, “with pearls. Oh! I will be +plain. Give up that necklace—and its wearer. What do you answer?” +</p> + +<p> +Now Marcus understood, and a saying that he heard on the lips of Miriam arose +in his mind, though he knew not whence it came. +</p> + +<p> +“I answer,” he said with set face and flashing eyes, “that I +will not cast pearls before swine.” +</p> + +<p> +“A pretty message from a prisoner to his judge,” replied the +chamberlain with a curious smile. “But have no fear, noble Marcus, it +shall not be delivered. I am not paid to tell my royal master the truth. Think +again.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have thought,” answered Marcus. “I do not know where the +maiden is and therefore cannot deliver her to Domitian, nor would I if I could. +Rather will I be disgraced and perish.” +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose,” mused Saturius, “that this is what they call +true love, and to speak plainly,” he added with a burst of candour, +“I find it admirable and worthy of a noble Roman. My lord Marcus, my +mission has failed, yet I pray that the Fates may order your deliverance from +your enemies, and, in reward for these persecutions, bring back to you unharmed +that maiden whom you desire, but whom I go to seek. Farewell.” +</p> + +<p> +Two days later Stephanus, the steward of Marcus who waited upon him in his +prison, announced that a man who said his name was Septimus wished speech with +him, but would say nothing of his business. +</p> + +<p> +“Admit him,” said Marcus, “for I grow weary of my own +company,” and letting his head fall upon his hand he stared through the +bars of his prison window. +</p> + +<p> +Presently he heard a sound behind him, and looked round to see an old man clad +in the robe of a master-workman, whose pure and noble face seemed in a strange +contrast to his rough garments and toil-scarred hands. +</p> + +<p> +“Be seated and tell me your business,” said Marcus courteously, and +with a bow his visitor obeyed. +</p> + +<p> +“My business, my lord Marcus,” he said in an educated and refined +voice, “is to minister to those who are in trouble.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, sir, your feet have led you aright,” answered Marcus with a +sad laugh, “for this is the house of trouble and you see I am its +inhabitant.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know, and I know the cause.” +</p> + +<p> +Marcus looked at him curiously. “Are you a Christian, sir?” he +asked. “Nay, do not fear to answer; I have friends who are +Christians,” and he sighed, “nor could I harm you if I would, who +wish to harm none, least of all a Christian.” +</p> + +<p> +“My lord Marcus, I fear hurt at no man’s hand; also the days of +Nero have gone by and Vespasian reigns, who molests us not. I am Cyril, a +bishop of the Christians in Rome, and if you will hear me I am come to preach +to you my faith, which, I trust, may yet be yours.” +</p> + +<p> +Marcus stared at the man; it was to him a matter of amazement that this priest +should take so much trouble for a stranger. Then a thought struck him and he +asked: +</p> + +<p> +“What fee do you charge for these lessons in a new religion?” +</p> + +<p> +The bishop’s pale face flushed. +</p> + +<p> +“Sir,” he answered, “if you wish to reject my message, do it +without insult. I do not sell the grace of God for lucre.” +</p> + +<p> +Again Marcus was impressed. +</p> + +<p> +“Your pardon,” he said, “yet I have known priests take money, +though it is true they were never of your faith. Who told you about me?” +</p> + +<p> +“One, my lord Marcus, to whom you have behaved well,” answered +Cyril gravely. +</p> + +<p> +Marcus sprang from his seat. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you mean—do you mean—?” he began and paused, +looking round him fearfully. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” replied the bishop in a whisper, “I mean Miriam. Fear +not, she and her companions are in my charge, and for the present, safe. Seek +to know no more, lest perchance their secret should be wrung from you. I and +her brethren in the Lord will protect her to the last.” +</p> + +<p> +Marcus began to pour out his thanks. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank me not,” interrupted Cyril, “for what is at once my +duty and my joy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Friend Cyril,” said Marcus, “the maid is in great danger. I +have just learned that Domitian’s spies hunt through Rome to find her, +who, when she is found, will be spirited to his palace and a fate that you can +guess. She must escape from Rome. Let her fly to Tyre, where she has friends +and property. There, if she lies hid a while, she will be molested by +none.” +</p> + +<p> +The bishop shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“I have thought of it,” he said, “but it is scarcely +possible. The officers at every port have orders to search all ships that sail +with passengers, and detain any woman on them who answers to the description of +her who was called Pearl-Maiden. This I know for certain, for I also have my +officers, more faithful perhaps than those of Cæsar,” and he smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“Is there then no means to get her out of Rome and across the sea?” +</p> + +<p> +“I can think of only one, which would cost more money than we poor +Christians can command. It is that a ship be bought in the name of some +merchant and manned with sailors who can be trusted, such as I know how to +find. Then she could be taken aboard at night, for on such a vessel there would +be no right of search nor any to betray.” +</p> + +<p> +“Find the ship and trusty men and I will find the money,” said +Marcus, “for I still have gold at hand and the means of raising +more.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will make inquiries,” answered Cyril, “and speak with you +further on the matter. Indeed it is not necessary that you should give this +money, since such a ship and her cargo, if she comes there safely, should sell +at a great profit in the Eastern ports. Meanwhile have no fear; in the +protection of God and her brethren the maid is safe.” +</p> + +<p> +“I hope so,” said Marcus devoutly. “Now, if you have the time +to spare, tell me of this God of whom you Christians speak so much but who +seems so far away from man.” +</p> + +<p> +“But who, in the words of the great apostle, my master, in truth is not +far from any one of us,” answered Cyril. “Now hearken, and may your +heart be opened.” +</p> + +<p> +Then he began his labour of conversion, reasoning till the sun sank and it was +time for the prison gates to close. +</p> + +<p> +“Come to me again,” said Marcus as they parted, “I would hear +more.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of Miriam or of my message?” asked Cyril with a smile. +</p> + +<p> +“Of both,” answered Marcus. +</p> + +<p> +Four days went by before Cyril returned. They were heavy days for Marcus, since +on the morrow of the bishop’s visit he had learned that as Saturius had +foretold, Vespasian refused to consider his case, saying that it must abide the +decision of Titus when he came back to Rome. Meanwhile, he commanded that the +accused officer should remain in prison, but that no judgment should issue +against him. Here, then, Marcus was doomed to lie, fretting out his heart like +a lion in a cage. +</p> + +<p> +From Cyril Marcus learned that Miriam was well and sent him her greetings, +since she dared neither visit him nor write. The bishop told him also that he +had found a certain Grecian mariner, Hector by name, a Roman citizen, who was a +Christian and faithful. This man desired to sail for the coasts of Syria and +was competent to steer a vessel thither. Also he thought that he could collect +a crew of Christians and Jews who might be trusted. Lastly, he knew of several +small galleys that were for sale, one of which, named the <i>Luna</i>, was a +very good ship and almost new. Cyril told him, moreover, that he had seen +Gallus and his wife Julia, and that these good people, having no more ties in +Rome, partly because they desired to leave the city, and partly for love of +Miriam, though more the second reason than the first, were willing to sell +their house and goods and to sail with her to Syria. +</p> + +<p> +Marcus asked how much money would be needed, and when Cyril named the sum, sent +for Stephanus and commanded him to raise it and to pay it over to the craftsman +Septimus, taking his receipt in discharge. This Stephanus promised to do +readily enough by a certain day, believing that the gold was needed for his +master’s ransom. Then having settled all as well as might be, Cyril took +up his tale and preached to Marcus of the Saviour of the world with great +earnestness and power. +</p> + +<p> +Thus the days went on, and twice or thrice in every week Cyril visited Marcus, +giving him tidings and instructing him in the Faith. Now the ship <i>Luna</i> +was bought and the most of her crew hired; also a cargo of such goods as would +be salable in Syria was being laid into her hold at Ostia, the Greek, Hector, +giving it out that this was a private venture of his own and some other +merchants. As the man was well known for a bold trader who had bought and sold +in many lands his tale caused neither wonder nor suspicion, none knowing that +the capital was furnished by the steward of the prisoner Marcus through him who +passed as the master craftsman and contractor Septimus. Indeed, until the after +days Miriam did not know this herself, for it was kept from her by the special +command of Marcus, and if Nehushta guessed the truth she held her tongue. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +Two full months had gone by. Marcus still languished in prison, for Titus had +not yet returned to Rome, but as he learned from Cyril, Domitian wearied +somewhat of his fruitless search for Miriam, although he still vowed vengeance +against the rival who had robbed him. The ship <i>Luna</i> was laden and ready +for sea; indeed, if the wind and weather were favourable, she was to sail +within a week. Gallus and Julia, having wound up their affairs, had removed to +Ostia, whither Miriam was to be brought secretly on the night of the sailing of +the <i>Luna</i>. Marcus was now at heart a Christian, but as yet had refused to +accept baptism. Thus matters stood when Cyril visited the prison bringing with +him Miriam’s farewell message to her lover. It was very short. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell Marcus,” she said, “that I go because he bids me, and +that I know not whether we shall meet again. Say that perhaps it is best that +we should not meet, since for reasons which he knows, even if he should still +wish it, we may not marry. Say that in life or death I am his, and his only, +and that until my last hour my thought and prayer will be for him. May he be +delivered from all those troubles which, as I fear, I have brought upon him, +through no will of mine. May he forgive me for them and let my love and +gratitude make some amends for all that I have done amiss.” +</p> + +<p> +To this Marcus answered: “Tell Miriam that from my heart I thank her for +her message, and that my desire is that she should be gone from Rome so soon as +may be, since here danger dogs her steps. Tell her that although it is true +that mine has brought me shame and sorrow, still I give her love for love, and +that if I come living from my prison I will follow her to Tyre and speak +further of these matters. If I die, I pray that good fortune may attend her and +that from time to time she will make the offering of an hour’s thought to +the spirit which once was Marcus.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap28"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII<br/> +THE LAMP</h2> + +<p> +If Domitian at length slackened in his fruitless search for Miriam, Caleb, +whose whole heart was in the hunt, proved more diligent. Still, he could find +no trace of her. At first he made sure that if she was in Rome she would return +to visit her friends and protectors, Gallus and his wife, and in the hope of +thus discovering her, Caleb caused a constant watch to be kept on their abode. +But Miriam never came there, nor, although their footsteps were dogged from day +to day, did they lead him to her, since in truth Julia and Miriam met only in +the catacombs, where he and his spies dared not venture. Soon, however, Gallus +discovered that his home was kept under observation and its inmates tracked +from place to place. It was this knowledge indeed which, more than any other +circumstance, brought him to make up his mind to depart from Rome and dwell in +Syria, since he said that he would no longer live in a city where night by +night he and his were hunted like jackals. But when he left for Ostia, to wait +there till the ship <i>Luna</i> was ready, Caleb followed him, and in that +small town soon found out all his plans, learning that he meant to sail with +his wife in the vessel. Then, as he could hear nothing of Miriam, he returned +to Rome. +</p> + +<p> +After all it was by chance that he discovered her and not through his own +cleverness. Needing a lamp for his chamber he entered a shop where such things +were sold, and examined those that the merchant offered to him. Presently he +perceived one of the strange design of two palms with intertwining trunks and +feathery heads nodding apart, having a lamp hanging by a little chain from the +topmost frond of each of them. The shape of the trees struck him as familiar, +and he let his eye run down their stems until it reached the base, which, to +support so tall a piece, was large. Yes, the palms grew upon a little bank, and +there beneath the water rippled, while between bank and water was a long, +smooth stone, pointed at one end. Then in a flash Caleb recognised the place, +as well he might, seeing that on many and many an evening had he and Miriam sat +side by side upon that stone, angling for fish in the muddy stream of Jordan. +There was no doubt about it, and, look! half hidden in the shadow of the stone +lay a great fish, the biggest that ever he had caught—he could swear to +it, for its back fin was split. +</p> + +<p> +A mist came before Caleb’s eyes and in it across the years he saw himself +a boy again. There he stood, his rod of reed bent double and the thin line +strained almost to breaking, while on the waters of Jordan a great fish +splashed and rolled. +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot pull him in,” he cried. “The line will never bear +it and the bank is steep. Oh! Miriam, we shall lose him!” +</p> + +<p> +Then there was a splash, and, behold! the girl at his side had sprung into the +swiftly running river. Though its waters, reaching to her neck, washed her down +the stream, she hugged to her young breast that great, slippery fish, yes, and +gripped its back fin between her teeth, till with the aid of his reed rod he +drew them both to land. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +“I will buy that lamp,” said Caleb presently. “The design +pleases me. What artist made it?” +</p> + +<p> +The merchant shrugged his shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +“Sir, I do not know,” he answered. “These goods are supplied +to us with many others, such as joinery and carving, by one Septimus, who is a +contractor and, they say, a head priest among the Christians, employing many +hands at his shops in the poor streets yonder. One or more of them must be +designers of taste, since of late we have received from him some lamps of great +beauty.” +</p> + +<p> +Then the man was called away to attend to another customer and Caleb paid for +his lamp. +</p> + +<p> +That evening at dusk Caleb, bearing the lamp in his hand, found his way to the +workshop of Septimus, only to discover that the part of the factory where lamps +were moulded was already closed. A girl who had just shut the door, seeing him +stand perplexed before it, asked civilly if she could help him. +</p> + +<p> +“Maiden,” he answered, “I am in trouble who wish to find her +who moulded this lamp, so that I may order others, but am told that she has +left her work for the day.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said the maiden, looking at the lamp, which evidently she +recognised. “It is pretty, is it not? Well, cannot you return +to-morrow?” +</p> + +<p> +“Alas! no, I expect to be leaving Rome for a while, so I fear that I must +go elsewhere.” +</p> + +<p> +The girl reflected to herself that it would be a pity if the order were lost, +and with it the commission which she might divide with the maker of the lamp. +“It is against the rules, but I will show you where she lives,” she +said, “and if she is there, which is probable, for I have never seen her +or her companion go out at night, you can tell her your wishes.” +</p> + +<p> +Caleb thanked the girl and followed her through sundry tortuous lanes to a +court surrounded by old houses. +</p> + +<p> +“If you go in there,” she said, pointing to a certain doorway, +“and climb to the top of the stairs, I forget whether there are three or +four flights, you will find the makers of the lamp in the roof-rooms—oh! +sir, I thank you, but I expected nothing. Good-night.” +</p> + +<p> +At length Caleb stood at the head of the stairs, which were both steep, narrow, +and in the dark hard to climb. Before him, at the end of a rickety landing, a +small ill-fitting door stood ajar. There was light within the room beyond, and +from it came a sound of voices. Caleb crept up to the door and listened, for as +the floor below was untenanted he knew that none could see him. Bending down he +looked through the space between the door and its framework and his heart stood +still. There, standing full in the lamplight, clothed in a pure white robe, for +her rough working dress lay upon a stool beside her, was Miriam herself, her +elbow leaning on the curtained window-place. She was talking to Nehushta, who, +her back bent almost double over a little charcoal fire, was engaged in cooking +their supper. +</p> + +<p> +“Think,” she was saying, “only think, Nou, our last night in +this hateful city, and then, instead of that stifling workshop and the terror +of Domitian, the open sea and the fresh salt wind and nobody to fear but God. +<i>Luna!</i> Is it not a beautiful name for a ship? I can see her, all +silver——” +</p> + +<p> +“Peace,” said Nehushta. “Are you mad, girl, to talk so loud? +I thought I heard a sound upon the stairs just now.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is only the rats,” answered Miriam cheerfully, “no one +ever comes up here. I tell you that were it not for Marcus I could weep with +joy.” +</p> + +<p> +Caleb crept back to the head of the stairs and down several steps, which he +began to re-ascend noisily, grumbling at their gloom and steepness. Then, +before the women even had time to shut the door, he thrust it wide and walked +straight into the room. +</p> + +<p> +“Your pardon,” he began, then added quietly, “Why, Miriam, +when we parted on the gate Nicanor, who could have foretold that we should live +to meet again here in a Roman attic? And you, Nehushta. Why, we were separated +in the fray outside the Temple walls, though, indeed, I think that I saw you in +a strange place some months ago, namely, the slave-ring on the Forum.” +</p> + +<p> +“Caleb,” asked Miriam in a hollow voice, “what is your +business here?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Miriam, it began with a desire for a replica of this lamp, which +reminds me of a spot familiar to my childhood. Do you remember it? Now that I +have found who is the lamp’s maker——” +</p> + +<p> +“Cease fooling,” broke in Nehushta. “Bird of ill-omen, you +have come to drag your prey back to the shame and ruin which she has +escaped.” +</p> + +<p> +“I was not always called thus,” answered Caleb, flushing, +“when I rescued you from the house at Tyre for instance, or when I risked +my life, Miriam, to throw you food upon the gate Nicanor. Nay, I come to save +you from Domitian——” +</p> + +<p> +“And to take her for yourself,” answered Nehushta. “Oh! we +Christians also have eyes to see and ears to hear, and, black-hearted traitor +that you are, we know all your shame. We know of your bargain with the +chamberlain of Domitian, by which the body of the slave was to be the price of +the life of her buyer. We know how you swore away the honour of your rival, +Marcus, with false testimony, and how from week to week you have quartered Rome +as a vulture quarters the sky till at length you have smelt out the quarry. +Well, she is helpless, but One is strong, and may His vengeance fall upon your +life and soul.” +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly Nehushta’s voice, that had risen to a scream, died away, and she +stood before him threatening him with her bony fists, and searching his face +with her burning eyes, a vengeance incarnate. +</p> + +<p> +“Peace, woman, peace,” said Caleb, shrinking back before her. +“Spare your reproaches; if I have sinned much it is because I have loved +more——” +</p> + +<p> +“And hate most of all,” added Nehushta. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! Caleb,” broke in Miriam, “if as you say you love me, why +should you deal thus with me? You know well that I do not love you after this +sort, no, and never can, and even if you keep me from Domitian, who does but +make a tool of you, what would it advantage you to take a woman who leaves her +heart elsewhere? Also I may never marry you for that same reason that I may not +marry Marcus, because my faith is and must remain apart from yours. Would you +make a base slave of your old playmate, Caleb? Would you bring her to the level +of a dancing-girl? Oh! let me go in peace.” +</p> + +<p> +“Upon the ship <i>Luna</i>,” said Caleb sullenly. +</p> + +<p> +Miriam gasped! So he knew their plans. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” she replied desperately, “upon the ship <i>Luna</i>, +to find such a fate as Heaven may give me; at least to be at peace and free. +For your soul’s sake, Caleb, let me go. Once years ago you swore that you +would not force yourself upon me against my will. Will you break that oath +to-day?” +</p> + +<p> +“I swore also, Miriam, that it should go ill with any man who came +between you and me. Shall I break that oath to-day? Give yourself to me of your +own will and save Marcus. Refuse and I will bring him to his death. Choose now +between me and your lover’s life.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you a coward that you should lay such a choice upon me, +Caleb?” +</p> + +<p> +“Call me what you will. Choose.” +</p> + +<p> +Miriam clasped her hands and for a moment stood looking upwards. Then a light +of purpose grew upon her face and she answered: +</p> + +<p> +“Caleb, I have chosen. Do your worst. The fate of Marcus is not in my +hands, or your hands, but in the hands of God; nor, unless He wills it, can one +hair of his head be harmed by you or by Domitian. For is it not written in the +book of your own Law that ‘the King’s heart is in the hand of the +Lord, he turneth it whithersoever he will.’ But my honour is my own, and +to stain it would be a sin for which I alone must answer to Heaven and to +Marcus, dead or living—Marcus, who would curse and spit upon me did I +attempt to buy his safety at such a price.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is that your last word, Miriam?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is. If it pleases you by false witness and by murder to destroy the +man who once spared you, then if such a thing be suffered, have your will and +reap its fruits. I make no bargain with you, for myself or for him—do +your worst to both of us.” +</p> + +<p> +“So be it,” said Caleb with a bitter laugh, “but I think that +the ship <i>Luna</i> will lack her fairest passenger.” +</p> + +<p> +Miriam sank down upon a seat and covered her face with her hands, a piteous +sight in her misery and the terror which, notwithstanding her bold words, she +could not conceal. Caleb walked to the door and paused there, while the +white-haired Nehushta stood by the brazier of charcoal and watched them both +with her fierce eyes. Presently Caleb glanced round at Miriam crouched by the +window and a strange new look came into his face. +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot do it,” he said slowly, each word falling heavily from +his lips like single rain-drops from a cloud, or the slow blood from a mortal +wound. +</p> + +<p> +Miriam let her hands slip from her face and stared at him. +</p> + +<p> +“Miriam,” he said, “you are right; I have sinned against you +and this man Marcus. Now I will expiate my sin. Your secret is safe with me, +and since you hate me I will never see you more. Miriam, we look upon each +other for the last time. Further, if I can, I will work for the deliverance of +Marcus and help him to join you in Tyre, whither the <i>Luna</i> is +bound—is she not? Farewell?” +</p> + +<p> +Once again he turned to go, but it would seem that his eyes were blinded, or +his brain was dulled by the agony that worked within. At least Caleb caught his +foot in the ancient uneven boards, stumbled, and fell heavily upon his face. +Instantly, with a low hiss of hate and a spring like that of a cat, Nehushta +was upon him. Thrusting her knees upon his back she seized the nape of his neck +with her left hand and with her right drew a dagger from her bosom. +</p> + +<p> +“Forbear!” said Miriam. “Touch him with that knife and we +part forever. Nay, I mean it. I myself will hand you to the officer, even if he +hales me to Domitian.” +</p> + +<p> +Then Nehushta rose to her feet. +</p> + +<p> +“Fool!” she said, “fool, to trust to that man of double +moods, whose mercy to-night will be vengeance to-morrow. Oh! you are undone! +Alas! you are undone!” +</p> + +<p> +Regaining his feet Caleb looked at her contemptuously. +</p> + +<p> +“Had you stabbed she might have been undone indeed,” he said. +“Now, as of old, there is little wisdom in that gray head of yours, +Nehushta; nor can your hate suffer you to understand the intermingled good and +evil of my heart.” Then he advanced to Miriam, lifted her hand and kissed +it. With a sudden movement she proffered him her brow. +</p> + +<p> +“Nay,” he said, “tempt me not, it is not for me. +Farewell.” +</p> + +<p> +Another instant and he was gone. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +It would seem that Caleb kept his word, for three days later the vessel +<i>Luna</i> sailed unmolested from the port of Ostia in the charge of the Greek +captain Hector, having on board Miriam, Nehushta, Julia, and Gallus. +</p> + +<p> +Within a week of this sailing Titus at length returned to Rome. Here in due +course the case of Marcus was brought before him by the prisoner’s +friends, together with a demand that he should be granted a new and open trial +for the clearing of his honour. Titus, who for his own reasons refused to see +Marcus, listened patiently, then gave his decision. +</p> + +<p> +He rejoiced, he said, to learn that his close friend and trusted officer was +still alive, since he had long mourned him as dead. He grieved that in his +absence he should have been put upon his trial on the charge of having been +taken captive, living, by the Jews, which, if Marcus upon his arrival in Rome +had at once reported himself to him, would not have happened. He dismissed all +accusations against his military honour and courage as mere idle talk, since he +had a hundred times proved him to be the bravest of men, and knew, moreover, +something of the circumstances under which he was captured. But, however +willing he might be to do so, he was unable for public reasons to disregard the +fact that he had been duly convicted by a court-martial, under the Prince +Domitian, of having broken the command of his general and suffered himself to +be taken prisoner alive. To do so would be to proclaim himself, Titus, unjust, +who had caused others to suffer for this same offence, and to offer insult to +the prince, his brother, who in the exercise of his discretion as commander in +his absence, had thought fit to order the trial. Still, his punishment should +be of the lightest possible. He commanded that on leaving his prison Marcus +should go straight to his own house by night, so that there might be no public +talk or demonstration among his friends, and there make such arrangement of his +affairs as seemed good to him. Further, he commanded that within ten days he +should leave Italy, to dwell or travel abroad for a period of three years, +unless the time should be shortened by some special decree. After the lapse of +these three years he would be free to return to Rome. This was his judgment and +it could not be altered. +</p> + +<p> +As it chanced, it was the chamberlain Saturius who first communicated the +Imperial decree to Marcus. Hurrying straight from the palace to the prison he +was admitted into the prisoner’s chamber. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said Marcus, looking up, “what evil tidings have you +now?” +</p> + +<p> +“None, none,” answered Saturius. “I have very good tidings, +and that is why I run so fast. You are only banished for three years, thanks to +my secret efforts,” and he smiled craftily. “Even your property is +left to you, a fact which will, I trust, enable you to reward your friends for +their labours on your behalf.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me all,” and the rogue obeyed, while Marcus listened with a +face of stone. +</p> + +<p> +“Why did Titus decide thus?” he asked when it was finished. +“Speak frankly, man, if you wish for a reward.” +</p> + +<p> +“Because, noble Marcus, Domitian had been with him beforehand and told +him that if he reversed his public judgment it would be a cause of open quarrel +between them. This, Cæsar, who fears his brother, does not seek. That is why he +would not see you, lest his love for his friend should overcome his +reason.” +</p> + +<p> +“So the prince is still my enemy?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, and more bitter than before, since he cannot find the Pearl-Maiden, +and is sure that you have spirited her away. Be advised by me and leave Rome +quickly, lest worse things befall you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye,” said Marcus, “I will leave Rome quickly, for how shall +I abide here who have lost my honour. Yet first it may please your master to +know that by now the lady whom he seeks is far across the sea. Now get you +gone, you fox, for I desire to be alone.” +</p> + +<p> +The face of Saturius became evil. +</p> + +<p> +“Is that all you have to say?” he asked. “Am I to win no +reward?” +</p> + +<p> +“If you stay longer,” said Marcus, “you will win one which +you do not desire.” +</p> + +<p> +Then Saturius went, but without the door he turned and shook his fist towards +the chamber he had left. +</p> + +<p> +“Fox,” he muttered. “He called me fox and gave me nothing. +Well, foxes may find some pickings on his bones.” +</p> + +<p> +The chamberlain’s road to the palace ran past the place of business of +the merchant Demetrius. He stopped and looked at it. “Perhaps this one +will be more liberal,” he said to himself, and entered. +</p> + +<p> +In his private office he found Caleb alone, his face buried in his hands. +Seating himself he plunged into his tale, ending it with an apology to Caleb +for the lightness of the sentence inflicted upon Marcus. +</p> + +<p> +“Titus would do no more,” he said; “indeed, were it not for +the fear of Domitian, he could have not have been brought to do so much, for he +loves the man, who has been a prefect of his bodyguard, and was deeply grieved +that he must disgrace him. Still, disgraced he is, aye, and he feels it; +therefore I trust that you, most generous Demetrius, who hate him, will +remember the service of your servant in this matter.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Caleb quietly, “fear not, you shall be well paid, +for you have done your best.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thank you, friend,” answered Saturius, rubbing his hands, +“and, after all, things may be better than they seem. That insolent fool +let out just now that the girl about whom there is all this bother has been +smuggled away somewhere across the seas. When Domitian learns that he will be +so mad with anger that he may be worked up to take a little vengeance of his +own upon the person of the noble Marcus, who has thus contrived to trick him. +Also Marcus shall not get the Pearl-Maiden, for the prince will cause her to be +followed and brought back—to you, worthy Demetrius.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then,” answered Caleb, slowly, “he must seek for her, not +across the sea, but in its depths.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“I mean that I have tidings that Pearl-Maiden escaped in the ship +<i>Luna</i> hard upon a month ago. This morning the captain and some mariners +of the galley <i>Imperatrix</i> arrived in Rome. They report that they met a +great gale off Rhegium, and towards the end of it saw a vessel sink. Afterwards +they picked up a sailor clinging to a piece of wood, who told them that the +ship’s name was <i>Luna</i> and that she foundered with all hands.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you seen this sailor?” +</p> + +<p> +“No; he died of exhaustion soon after he was rescued; but I have seen the +men of the galley, who brought me note of certain goods consigned to me in her +hold. They repeated this story to me with their own lips.” +</p> + +<p> +“So, after all, she whom so many sought was destined to the arms of +Neptune, as became a pearl,” reflected Saturius. “Well, well, as +Domitian cannot be revenged upon Neptune he will be the more wroth with the man +who sent her to that god. Now I go to tell him all these tidings and learn his +mind.” +</p> + +<p> +“You will return and acquaint me with it, will you not?” asked +Caleb, looking up. +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly, and at once. Our account is not yet balanced, most generous +Demetrius.” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” answered Caleb, “our accounts are not yet +balanced.” +</p> + +<p> +Two hours later the chamberlain reappeared in the office. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said Caleb, “how does it go?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ill, very ill for Marcus, and well, very well for those who hate him, as +you and I do, friend. Oh! never have I seen my Imperial master so enraged. +Indeed, when he learned that Pearl-Maiden had escaped and was drowned, so that +he could have no hope of her this side the Styx, it was almost dangerous to be +near to him. He cursed Titus for the lightness of his sentence; he cursed you; +he cursed <i>me</i>. But I turned his wrath into the right channel. I showed +him that for all these ills Marcus, and Marcus alone, is to blame, Marcus who +is to pay the price of them with a three years’ pleasant banishment from +Rome, which doubtless, will be remitted presently. I tell you that Domitian +wept and gnashed his teeth at the thought of it, until I showed him a better +plan—knowing that it would please you, friend Demetrius.” +</p> + +<p> +“What plan?” +</p> + +<p> +Saturius rose, and having looked round to see that the door was fastened, came +and whispered into Caleb’s ear. +</p> + +<p> +“Look you, after sunset to-night, that is within two hours, Marcus is to +be put out of his prison and conducted to the side door of his own house, that +beneath the archway, where he is ordered to remain until he leaves Rome. In +this house is no one except an old man, the steward Stephanus, and a slave +woman. Well, before he gets there, certain trusty fellows, such as Domitian +knows how to lay his hands upon, will have entered the house, and having +secured the steward and the woman, will await the coming of Marcus beneath the +archway. You can guess the rest. Is it not well conceived?” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well,” answered Caleb. “But may there not be +suspicion?” +</p> + +<p> +“None, none. Who would dare to suspect Domitian? A private crime, +doubtless! The rich have so many enemies.” +</p> + +<p> +What Saturius did not add was that nobody would suspect Domitian because the +masked bravoes were instructed to inform the steward and the slave when they +had bound and gagged them, that they were hired to do the deed of blood by a +certain merchant named Demetrius, otherwise Caleb the Jew, who had an ancient +quarrel against Marcus, which, already, he had tried to satisfy by giving false +evidence before the court-martial. +</p> + +<p> +“Now,” went on Saturius, “I must be going, for there are one +or two little things which need attention, and time presses. Shall we balance +that account, friend Demetrius?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly,” said Caleb, and taking a roll of gold from a drawer he +pushed it across the table. +</p> + +<p> +Saturius shook his head sadly. “I laid it at twice as much,” he +said. “Think how you hate him and how richly your hate will be fed. First +disgraced unjustly, he, one of the best soldiers and bravest captains in the +army, and then hacked to death by cutthroats in the doorway of his own house. +What more could you want?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing,” answered Caleb. “Only the man isn’t dead +yet. Sometimes the Fates have strange surprises for us mortals, friend +Saturius.” +</p> + +<p> +“Dead? He will be dead soon enough.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good. You shall have the rest of the money when I have seen his body. +No, I don’t want any bungling and that’s the best way to make +certain.” +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder,” thought Saturius, as he departed out of the office and +this history, “I wonder how I shall manage to get the balance of my fee +before they have my Jewish friend by the heels. But it can be +arranged—doubtless it can be arranged.” +</p> + +<p> +When he had gone, Caleb, who, it would seem, also had things which needed +attention and felt that time pressed, took pen and wrote a short letter. Next +he summoned a clerk and gave orders that it was to be delivered two hours after +sunset—not before. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile, he enclosed it in an outer wrapping so that the address was not +seen. This done, he sat still for a time, his lips moving, almost as though he +were engaged in prayer. Then, seeing that it was the hour of sunset, he rose, +wrapped himself in a long dark cloak, such as was worn by Roman officers, and +went out. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap29"></a>CHAPTER XXIX<br/> +HOW MARCUS CHANGED HIS FAITH</h2> + +<p> +Caleb was not the only one who heard the evil tidings of the ship <i>Luna</i>; +it came to the ears of the bishop Cyril also, since little of any moment passed +within the city of Rome which the Christians did not know. +</p> + +<p> +Like Caleb, he satisfied himself of the truth of the matter by an interview +with the captain of the <i>Imperatrix</i>. Then with a sorrowful heart he +departed to the prison near the Temple of Mars. Here the warden told him that +Marcus wished to see no one, but answering “Friend, my business will not +wait,” he pushed past the man and entered the room beyond. Marcus was +standing up in the centre of it, in his hand a drawn sword of the short Roman +pattern, which, on catching sight of his visitor, he cast upon the table with +an exclamation of impatience. It fell beside a letter addressed to “The +Lady Miriam in Tyre. To be given into her own hand.” +</p> + +<p> +“Peace be with you,” said the bishop, searching his face with his +quiet eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“I thank you, friend,” answered Marcus, smiling strangely, “I +need peace, and—seek it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Son,” asked the bishop, “what were you about to do?” +</p> + +<p> +“Friend,” answered Marcus, “If you desire to know, I was +about to fall upon my sword. One more minute and I should have been dead. They +brought it me with the cloak and other things. It was thoughtful of them, and I +guessed their meaning.” +</p> + +<p> +Cyril lifted the sword from the table and cast it into a corner of the room. +</p> + +<p> +“God be thanked,” he said, “Who led my feet here in time to +save you from this sin. Why, because it has pleased Him to take her life, +should you seek to take your own?” +</p> + +<p> +“Her life?” said Marcus. “What dreadful words are these. Her +life! Whose life?” +</p> + +<p> +“The life of Miriam. I came to tell you. She is drowned upon the seas +with all her company.” +</p> + +<p> +For a moment Marcus stood swaying to and fro like a drunken man. Then he said: +</p> + +<p> +“Is it so indeed? Well, the more reason that I should make haste to +follow her. Begone and leave me to do the deed alone,” and he stepped +towards the sword. +</p> + +<p> +Cyril set his foot upon the shining blade. +</p> + +<p> +“What is this madness?” he asked. “If you did not know of +Miriam’s death, why do you desire to kill yourself?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because I have lost more than Miriam. Man, they have robbed me of my +honour. By the decree of Titus, I, Marcus, am branded as a coward. Yes, Titus, +at whose side I have fought a score of battles—Titus, from whom I have +warded many a blow—has banished me from Rome.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me of this thing,” said Cyril. +</p> + +<p> +So Marcus told him all. Cyril listened in silence, then said sternly: +</p> + +<p> +“Is it for this that you would kill yourself? Is your honour lessened by +a decree based upon false evidence, and given for reasons of policy? Do you +cease to be honourable because others are dishonourable, and would you—a +soldier—fly from the battle? Now, indeed, Marcus, you show yourself a +coward.” +</p> + +<p> +“How can I live on who am so shamed?” he asked passionately. +“My friends knew that I could not live, and that is why they wrapped a +sword in yonder cloak and sent it me. Also Miriam, you say, is dead.” +</p> + +<p> +“Satan sent it to you, Marcus, desiring to fashion of your foolish pride +a ladder down which you might climb to hell. Cast aside this base temptation +which wears the mask of false honour; face your trouble like a man, and conquer +it by innocence—and faith.” +</p> + +<p> +“Miriam! What of Miriam?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, what of Miriam? How would she welcome you yonder, who come to greet +her with your blood upon your hands? Oh! son, do you not understand that this +is the trial laid upon you? You have been brought low that you might rise high. +Once the world gave you all it had to give. You were rich, you were a captain +among captains; you were high-born; men called you ‘The Fortunate.’ +Then Christ appealed to you in vain, you put Him by. What had you to do with +the crucified carpenter of Galilee? Now by the plotting of your foes you have +fallen. No longer do you rank high in your trade of blood. You are dismissed +its service and an exile. The lesson of life has come home to you, therefore +you seek to escape from life rather than bide in it to do your duty through +good and ill, heedless of what men may say, and finding peace in the verdict of +your own conscience. Let Him Whom you put by in your hours of pomp come to you +now. Carry your cross with your shame as He carried His in His shame. In His +light find light, in His peace find peace, and at the end her who has been +taken from you awhile. Has my spirit spoken in vain with your spirit during all +these many weeks, son Marcus? Already you have told me that you believe, and +now at the first breath of trouble will you go back upon that which you know to +be the Truth? Oh! once more listen to me, that your eyes may be opened before +it is too late.” +</p> + +<p> +“Speak on, I hear you,” said Marcus with a sigh. +</p> + +<p> +So Cyril pleaded with him in the passion of one inspired, and as Marcus +hearkened his heart was softened and his purpose turned. +</p> + +<p> +“I knew it all before, I believed it all before,” he said at +length, “but I would not accept your baptism and become a member of your +Church.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why not, son?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because had I done so she would have thought and you might have thought, +and perhaps I myself should have thought that I did it, as once I offered to +do, to win her whom I desired above all things on earth. Now she is dead and it +is otherwise. Shrive me, father, and do your office.” +</p> + +<p> +So there in the prison cell the bishop Cyril took water and baptised the Roman +Marcus into the body of the Christian Church. +</p> + +<p> +“What shall I do now?” Marcus asked as he rose from his knees. +“Once Cæsar was my master, now you speak with the voice of Cæsar. Command +me.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not speak, Christ speaks. Listen. I am called by the Church to go +to Alexandria in Egypt, whither I sail within three days. Will you who are +exiled from Rome come with me? There I can find you work to do.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have said that you are Cæsar,” answered Marcus. “Now it is +sunset and I am free; accompany me to my house, I pray you, for there much +business waits me in which I need counsel, who am overborne.” +</p> + +<p> +So presently the gates were opened as Titus had commanded, and they went forth, +attended only by a guard of two men, walking unnoted through the streets to the +palace in the Via Agrippa. +</p> + +<p> +“There is the door,” said the sergeant of the guard, pointing to +the side entrance of the house. “Enter with your friend and, noble +Marcus, fare you well.” +</p> + +<p> +So they went to the archway, and finding the door ajar, passed through and shut +it behind them. +</p> + +<p> +“For a house where there is much to steal this is ill guarded, son. In +Rome an open gate ought to have a watchman,” said Cyril as he groped his +way through the darkness of the arch. +</p> + +<p> +“My steward Stephanus should be at hand, for the jailer advised him of my +coming—who never thought to come,” began Marcus, then of a sudden +stumbled heavily and was silent. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” asked Cyril. +</p> + +<p> +“By the feel one who is drunken—or dead. Some beggar, perhaps, who +sleeps off his liquor here.” +</p> + +<p> +By now Cyril was through the archway and in the little courtyard beyond. +</p> + +<p> +“A light burns in that window,” he said. “Come, you know the +path, guide me to it. We can return to this sleeper.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who seems hard to wake,” added Marcus, as he led the way across +the courtyard to the door of the offices. This also proved to be open and by it +they entered the room where the steward kept his books and slept. Upon the +table a lamp was burning, that which they had seen through the casement. Its +light showed them a strange sight. An iron-bound box that was chained to the +wall had been broken open and its contents rifled, for papers were strewn here +and there, and on them lay an empty leathern money-bag. The furniture also was +overturned as though in some struggle, while among it, one in the corner of the +room and one beneath the marble table, which was too heavy to be moved, lay two +figures, those of a man and a woman. +</p> + +<p> +“Murderers have been here,” said Cyril with a groan. +</p> + +<p> +Marcus snatched the lamp from the table and held it to the face of the man in +the corner. +</p> + +<p> +“It is Stephanus,” he said, “Stephanus bound and gagged, but +living, and the other is the slave woman. Hold the lamp while I loose +them,” and drawing his short sword, he cut away the bonds, first of the +one and then of the other. “Speak, man, speak!” he said, as +Stephanus struggled to his feet. “What has chanced here?” +</p> + +<p> +For some moments the old steward stared at him with round, frightened eyes. +Then he gasped: +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! my lord, I thought you dead. They said that they had come to kill +you by command of the Jew Caleb, he who gave the evidence.” +</p> + +<p> +“They! Who?” asked Marcus. +</p> + +<p> +“I know not, four men whose faces were masked. They said also that though +you must die, they were commanded to do me and this woman no harm, only to bind +and silence us. This they did, then, having taken what money they could find, +went out to waylay you. Afterwards I heard a scuffle in the arch and well-nigh +died of sorrow, for I who could neither warn nor help you, was sure that you +were perishing beneath their knives.” +</p> + +<p> +“For this deliverance, thank God,” said Cyril, lifting up his +hands. +</p> + +<p> +“Presently, presently,” answered Marcus. “First follow +me,” and taking the lamp in his hand, he ran back to the archway. +</p> + +<p> +Beneath it a man lay upon his face—he across whom Marcus had stumbled, +and about him blood flowed from many wounds. In silence they turned him over so +that the light fell upon his features. Then Marcus staggered back amazed, for, +behold! they were Caleb’s, notwithstanding the blood and wounds that +marred them, still dark and handsome in his death sleep. +</p> + +<p> +“Why,” he said to Stephanus, “this is that very man whose +bloody work, as they told us, the murderers came to do. It would seem that he +has fallen into his own snare.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you certain, son?” asked Cyril. “Does not this gashed +and gory cheek deceive you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Draw that hand of his from beneath the cloak,” answered Marcus. +“If I am right the first finger will lack a joint.” +</p> + +<p> +Cyril obeyed and held up the stiffening hand. It was as Marcus had said. +</p> + +<p> +“Caught in his own snare!” repeated Marcus. “Well, though I +knew he hated me, and more than once we have striven to slay each other in +battle and private fight, never would I have believed that Caleb the Jew would +sink to murder. He is well repaid, the treacherous dog!” +</p> + +<p> +“Judge not, that ye be not judged,” answered Cyril. “What do +you know of how or why this man came by his death? He may have been hurrying +here to warn you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Against his own paid assassins! No, father, I know Caleb better, only he +was viler than I thought.” +</p> + +<p> +Then they carried the body into the house and took counsel what they should do. +While they reasoned together, for every path seemed full of danger, there came +a knock upon the archway door. They hesitated, not knowing whether it would be +safe to open, till the knock was repeated more loudly. +</p> + +<p> +“I will go, lord,” said Stephanus, “for why need I fear, who +am of no account to any one?” +</p> + +<p> +So he went, presently to return. +</p> + +<p> +“What was it?” asked Marcus. +</p> + +<p> +“Only a young man, who said that he had been strictly charged by his +master, Demetrius the Alexandrian merchant, to deliver a letter at this hour. +Here is the letter.” +</p> + +<p> +“Demetrius, the Alexandrian merchant,” said Marcus as he took it. +“Why, under that name Caleb who lies there dead passed in Rome.” +</p> + +<p> +“Read the letter,” said Cyril. +</p> + +<p> +So Marcus cut the silk, broke the seal, and read: +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +“To the noble Marcus, +</p> + +<p> +“In the past I have worked you evil and often striven to take your life. +Now it has come to my ears that Domitian, who hates you even worse than I do, +if for less reason, has laid a plot to murder you on the threshold of your own +house. Therefore, by way of amends for that evidence which I gave against you +that stained the truth, since no braver man ever breathed than you are, Marcus, +it has come into my mind to visit the Palace Fortunate wrapped in such a cloak +as you Roman captains wear. There, before you read this letter, perhaps we +shall meet again. Still, mourn me not, Marcus, nor speak of me as generous, or +noble, since Miriam is dead, and I who have followed her through life desire to +follow her through death, hoping that there I may find a kinder fortune at her +hands, or if not, forgetfulness. You who will live long, must drink deep of +memory—a bitterer cup. Marcus, farewell. Since die I must, I would that +it had been in open fight beneath your sword, but Fate, who has given me +fortune, but no true favour, appoints me to the daggers of assassins that seek +another heart. So be it. You tarry here, but I travel to Miriam. Why should I +grumble at the road? +</p> + +<p> +“Caleb. +</p> + +<p> +“Written at Rome upon the night of my death.” +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +“A brave man and a bitter,” said Marcus when he had finished +reading. “Know, my father, that I am more jealous of him now than ever I +was in his life’s days. Had it not been for you and your +preaching,” he added angrily, “when he came to seek Miriam, he +would have found me at her side. But now, how can I tell?” +</p> + +<p> +“Peace to your heathen talk!” answered the bishop. “Is the +land of spirits then such as your poets picture, and do the dead turn to each +other with eyes of earthly passion? Yet,” he added more gently, “I +should not blame you who, like this poor Jew, from childhood have been steeped +in superstitions. Have no fear of his rivalry in the heavenly fields, friend +Marcus, where neither do they marry or are given in marriage, nor think that +self-murder can help a man. What the end of all this tale may be does not yet +appear; still I am certain that yonder Caleb will take no gain in hurrying down +to death, unless indeed he did it from a nobler motive than he says, as I for +one believe.” +</p> + +<p> +“I trust that it may be so,” answered Marcus, “although in +truth that another man should die for me gives me no comfort. Rather would I +that he had left me to my doom.” +</p> + +<p> +“As God has willed so it has befallen, for ‘man’s goings are +of the Lord; how then can a man understand his own way?’” replied +Cyril with a sigh. “Now let us to other matters, for time is short and it +comes upon me that you will do well to be clear of Rome before Domitian finds +that Caleb fell in place of Marcus.” +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +Nearly three more months had gone when, at length, one night as the sun +vanished, a galley crept wearily into the harbour of Alexandria and cast anchor +just as the light of Pharos began to shine across the sea. Her passage through +the winter gales had been hard, and for weeks at a time she had been obliged to +shelter in harbours by the way. Now, short of food and water, she had come +safely to her haven, for which mercy the bishop Cyril with the Roman Marcus and +such other Christians as were aboard of her gave thanks to Heaven upon their +knees in their little cabin near the forecastle, for it was too late to attempt +to land that night. Then they went on deck and, as all their food was gone and +they had no drink except some stinking water, leaned upon the bulwarks and +looked hungrily towards the shore, where gleamed the thousand lights of the +mighty city. Near to them, not a bowshot away indeed, lay another ship. +Presently, as they stared at her black outline, the sound of singing floated +from her decks across the still, starlit waters of the harbour. They listened +to it idly enough at first, till at length some words of that song reached +their ears, causing them to look at each other. +</p> + +<p> +“That is no sailor’s ditty,” said Marcus. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” answered Cyril, “it is a Christian hymn, and one that I +know well. Listen. Each verse ends, ‘Peace, be still!’” +</p> + +<p> +“Then,” said Marcus, “yonder must be a Christian ship, else +they would not dare to sing that hymn. The night is calm, let us beg the boat +and visit it. I am thirsty, and those good folk may have fresh water.” +</p> + +<p> +“If you wish,” answered Cyril. “There too we may get tidings +as well as water.” +</p> + +<p> +A while later the little boat rowed to the side of the strange ship and asked +leave to board of the watchman. +</p> + +<p> +“What sign do you give?” asked the officer. +</p> + +<p> +“The sign of the Cross,” answered Cyril. “We have heard your +hymn who are of the brotherhood of Rome.” +</p> + +<p> +Then a rope ladder was thrown down to them and the officer bade them make fast +and be welcome. +</p> + +<p> +They climbed upon the deck and went to seek the captain, who was in the +afterpart of the ship, where an awning was stretched. In the space enclosed by +this awning, which was lit with lanterns, stood a woman in a white robe, who +sang the refrain of the hymn in a very sweet voice, others of the company, from +time to time, joining in its choruses. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“From the dead am I arisen” +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +sang the voice, and there was something in the thrilling notes that went +straight to the heart of Marcus, some tone and quality which were familiar. +</p> + +<p> +Side by side with Cyril he climbed onwards across the rowing benches, and the +noise of their stumbling footsteps reaching the singer’s ears, caused her +to pause in her song. Then stepping forward a little, as though to look, she +came under the lantern so that its light fell full upon her face, and, seeing +nothing, once more took up her chant: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Oh ye faithless, from the dead am I arisen.” +</p> + +<p> +“Look, look!” gasped Marcus, clutching Cyril by the arm. +“Look! It is Miriam, or her spirit.” +</p> + +<p> +Another instant and he, too, had come into the circle of the lamplight, so that +his eyes met the eyes of the singer. Now she saw him and, with a little cry, +sank senseless to the deck. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +So the long story ended. Afterwards they learned that the tale which had been +brought to Rome of the loss of the ship <i>Luna</i> was false. She had met the +great gale, indeed, but had sheltered from it in a harbour, where the skill of +her captain, Hector, brought her safely. Then she made her way to Sicily, where +she refitted, and so on to one of the Grecian ports, in which she lay for eight +weeks waiting for better weather, till a favouring wind brought her somewhat +slowly to Alexandria, a port she won only two days before the galley of Marcus. +It would seem, therefore, that the vessel that had foundered in sight of the +<i>Imperatrix</i> was either another ship also called the <i>Luna</i>, no +uncommon name, or that the mariners of the <i>Imperatrix</i> had not heard her +title rightly. It may have been even that the dying sailor who told it to them +wandered in his mind, and forgetting how his last ship was called, gave her +some name with which he was familiar. At the least, through the good workings +of Providence, that <i>Luna</i> which bore Miriam and her company escaped the +perils of the deep and in due time reached the haven of Alexandria. +</p> + +<p> +Before they parted that happy night all their tale was told. Miriam learned how +Caleb had kept the promise that he made to her, although when he thought her +dead his fierce and jealous heart would suffer him to tell nothing of it to +Marcus. She learned also how it came about that Marcus had been saved from +death at his own hand by Cyril and entered the company of the Christian +brotherhood. Very glad were both of them to think in the after years that he +had done this believing her to be lost to him in death. Now none could say that +he had changed his faith to win a woman, nor could their own consciences +whisper to them that this was possible, though even at the time he knew it not. +</p> + +<p> +So they understood how through their many trials, dangers, and temptations all +things had worked together for good to them. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +On the morrow, there in the ship <i>Luna</i>, Marcus and Miriam, whom the +Romans called Pearl-Maiden, were wedded by the bishop Cyril, the Captain Gallus +giving the bride in marriage, while the white-haired, fierce-eyed Nehushta +stood at their side and blessed them in the name of that dead mother whose +command had not been broken. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PEARL-MAIDEN ***</div> +<div style='text-align:left'> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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