Before this gorgeous assembly--before this terrible king--stood, surrounded by guards, a trembling, shrinking girl, wrapping closer and closer her linen veil around her slight form and drooping head.
"Tear off her veil!" said the king.
The command was instantly obeyed, and, like the painful glare of noonday to one brought suddenly out of darkness, the terrible splendour of the scene before her flashed upon Zarah. Her exquisite beauty, as her face now flushed crimson with shame at having to meet, without the protection of a veil, so many gazing eyes, then turned pale from overwhelming fear, caused an involuntary murmur of admiration to burst from the throng.
"No Herculean task to bend this willow wand," observed Antiochus, even his hard stern countenance relaxing into a smile. "Bring her nearer." The guards obeyed. Zarah approached the king, but with timid, faltering steps; how different from the firm tread with which a captive Maccabeus would have drawn nigh to the oppressor who might slay but never subdue him!
"There is the altar of Jupiter Olympus--that of Venus would have been more appropriate to so fair a votary," said Antiochus, with an oath; "but it little matters which deity receives the homage, so that it be duly paid. Maiden, throw some grains of yon incense into the flame, bend the knee in worship, and I promise you," the king added, with a laugh, "a gay house and a gallant husband, pearls and goodly array, and all else that a young maid's heart can desire."
Zarah did not stir; she did not appear to have even understood or heard the words of the king, only her lips were moving in agonized prayer.
Antiochus repeated more sternly his command to offer the incense.
"Oh, my God, help me; let me not be tried beyond what I can bear!" was the silent ejaculation which rose from the heart of the terror-stricken girl, as she slightly shook her bended head as her only reply.
"What! silent still," cried Antiochus, with displeasure. "Know you not, young mute, that we have workers of miracles here,"--he pointed to some black African slaves who performed the office of executioners; "these are skilful to bring sounds, and those some of the shrillest, from lips the most closely sealed."
In terror Zarah raised her dark eyes and looked wildly around her, in the vain hope of seeing some one, perhaps Lycidas himself, from whom she might receive protection or pity. But there was not a single countenance amidst the gay throng of courtiers that promised anything but cold indifference to, if not cruel amusement in her sufferings or her degradation; unless, perhaps, that of Pollux formed an exception. Zarah's anxious gaze rested for a moment on his face with an imploring look of entreaty, which might have touched a harder heart than his.
"I brook no more idle delay!" cried Antiochus; "as you love your life, do sacrifice at once to my god."
"I cannot--I dare not!" exclaimed the young maid. Faint as was her utterance of the words, they were heard distinctly, so great was the silence which prevailed through the assembly in that marble hall.
The answer surprised Antiochus and his courtiers.
"Ha! there is some resistance in the willow-wand then, after all!" cried the king, half amused and half angry. "I warrant me tough boughs grow on the tree from which that slender twig has sprung. Tell me, fair rebel," he continued, "your name and lineage, and the place of your birth."
Zarah had firmly resolved that, come what might, she would betray no friend; above all, that she would never draw down the fire of persecution upon the house of Hadassah. In the midst of all the misery which she was enduring from personal fear, Zarah forgot not this resolution.
"My name is Zarah; I was born in Bethsura; my father was called Abner," faltered forth the young maid.
Pollux involuntarily started and gasped, as if every word had been a live coal dropped upon his bare breast. It was well for him then that all eyes, even those of Lysimachus, were fixed at that moment on Zarah.
"Is your father living?" inquired the king, who, in the common name of Abner, did not recognize the almost forgotten one previously borne by a favourite.
"I know not," was the reply.
"Was he not with you at the rebellious meeting?" asked Antiochus Epiphanes.
"No; I went with my uncle, who was slain: he was my only companion thither," said the trembling maiden, thankful to be able with truth to say what would bring no person into peril.
There was a brief pause, to Zarah inexpressibly awful; then Antiochus Epiphanes, he who had looked on the dying agonies of Solomona and her sons, said in his stern voice of command, "I am not wont to bid thrice, and woe to those who presume to neglect my bidding. Throw incense on that fire, or the consequences be upon your own head. Others have experienced ere this what it is to brave my displeasure and disobey my command."
Bewildered and terrified, Zarah suffered, as if scarcely conscious of the import of the act, a few grains of incense to be put into her hand, then, recovering her self-possession, she flung them from her with a look of aversion and horror.
"Ha! is it so?" thundered Antiochus; "if the incense go not into the fire, the hand that held it shall go. Executioners, do your work!"
Four of the fierce black slaves approached the young Hebrew maiden. She clasped her hands, and shrieked out, "Father, save me!" It was no mortal to whom she addressed that wild cry for help.
But the cry was answered by a mortal. Pollux, as if moved by an irresistible impulse, sprang forward, by a gesture of his hand arrested the movements of the executioners, and bent his knee before Epiphanes.
"The mighty king," he began, with a great effort to appear indifferent and at his ease; "the mighty king has spoken of magicians who have skill to force out sounds from lips that are dumb. I dispute not the power of yonder black magi, but I should deem one their superior in the mysterious art who could bring songs rather than shrieks from a Hebrew; who could subdue the proud will rather than torture the body. Oh, illustrious monarch of the world, let me but for twenty-four hours try my potent spells upon this young rebel, and I will answer for it with my head that, before the twenty-four hours be past, she shall gladly and cheerfully do sacrifice to any god in Olympus, feast on swine's flesh, dance as a Bacchante, or drink wine, like Belshazzar of old, out of the vessels of the Temple. Try my powers, O king, and according to my failure or success, so be the maiden's fate and mine!"
Antiochus hesitated; with a look of keen suspicion he regarded the kneeling courtier. Zarah watched the king's countenance with breathless anxiety--a respite even of twenty-four hours seemed to the poor captive so priceless a boon. Intense was her relief when she heard the tyrant's reply to Pollux:--
"Twenty-four hours' delay you have asked, and I grant. It were a nobler triumph to make a proselyte than to slay a victim. I myself, as you well know, Pollux," continued the tyrant, with sarcastic emphasis, "won such a triumph myself. Take yonder obstinate Jewess, and work upon her your spells, whatever they may be; but hear my final decision," the king raised his hand and uttered a deep oath: "if to-morrow you have failed in doing what you now undertake to perform, if the girl be obdurate still, the moment when she refuses to do sacrifice shall be your last upon earth--she shall go to the furnace, and her protector to the block."
And then, with an imperious gesture of command, Antiochus dismissed the assembly.
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Chapter 20 The Court Of Antiochus
Fierce had been the rage and disappointment of Antiochus Epiphanes on hearing of the result of the night attack on his forces at Emmaus, and the subsequent retreat of Giorgias without striking a blow. In vain the troops of that too cautious leader endeavoured, by exaggerating the account of the numbers of their enemies, to cover their own shame. Antiochus was furious alike at what he termed the insolence of a handful of outlaws, and the cowardice of his picked troops, who had flaunted their banners and gone forth as if to assured victory, and had then fled like some gay-plumed bird before the swoop of the eagle. Not only the oppressed inhabitants of Jerusalem and its environs had cause to tremble at the rage of the tyrant, but his own Syrian officers and the obsequious courtiers who stood in his presence. And none more so than Pollux, once the chosen companion and special favourite of the Syrian king. Pollux had been so loaded with wealth and honours by his capricious master, as to have become an object of envy to his fellow-courtiers, and especially so to Lysimachus, a Syrian of high birth, who had seen himself passed in the race for royal favour by a rival whom he despised. But there was little cause for envying Pollux, the wretched parasite of a tyrant. Alas, for him who has bartered conscience and self-respect to win a monarch's smile! He has left the firm though narrow path of duty, to find himself on a treacherous quicksand, where the ground on which he places his foot soon begins to give way beneath him!
A few months before the time of which I am writing, Pollux, after a long sojourn in Antioch, then the capital of the Syrian dominions, had rejoined Antiochus in Jerusalem, where the monarch was holding his court in a luxurious palace which he had caused to be erected. It was here that Pollux first experienced the fickleness of royal favour. The courtier had been present at the trial of Solomona and her brave sons without making the slightest effort to save them, though their fate had moved him to something more than pity. But though Pollux could to a certain extent trample down compunction, and force his conscience to silence, he had not perfect command over his nerves. He might consent to the perpetration of horrors, but he could not endure to witness them; and, as we have seen, he had quietly, and, as he hoped, without attracting notice, quitted the chamber of torture.
The keen eye of jealousy had, however, keenly watched the movements of Pollux, and Lysimachus had not failed to make the most of the weakness betrayed by his rival.
"Pollux has sympathy with the Hebrews," observed Lysimachus to the tyrant, when Antiochus was chafing at being baffled by the fortitude of his victims. "Pollux may wear the Syrian garb, and he loaded with favours by the mighty Syrian king, but he remains at heart a Jew."
From that day Pollux found himself an object of suspicion, and having once reached the quicksand, he gradually sank lower and lower, notwithstanding his desperate efforts to save himself from impending ruin. His most costly gifts, his most fulsome flattery, his assurances of deathless devotion to "the greatest, noblest of the kings who sway realms conquered by Alexander, and surpass the fame of Macedonia's godlike hero," met but the coldest response. Pollux had once been wont to delight the king with his brilliant wit; now his forced jests fell like sparks upon water. Antiochus was growing tired of his favourite, as a child grows tired of the toy which he hugs one day, to break and fling aside on the next.
All the more embarrassed from having to simulate ease, all the more wretched because forcing himself to seem merry, with the sword of Damocles ever hanging over his head, Pollux, in the midst of luxury and pomp, was one of the most miserable of mankind. The court became to him at last an almost intolerable place. In an attempt at once to free himself from its restraints, and to win back the favour of the king by military service, in an evil hour for himself, he had volunteered to join the forces of Nicanor. The courtier was incited by no military ardour; he had no desire to fall on the field of victory; Pollux was not a coward, but he clung to life as those well may cling who have forfeited all hope of anything but misery beyond it. Pollux, as we have seen, had accompanied Giorgias when that general led a detachment of chosen troops to make that night attack upon Judas which had proved so unsuccessful. With Giorgias, Pollux had returned to Jerusalem, covered with shame instead of glory. More than his fair share of the obloquy incurred had fallen to the unfortunate courtier.
"Be assured, O most mighty monarch"--thus had Lysimachus addressed the disappointed tyrant--"that had there been no sympathizers with the Hebrew rebels in the army of the king, Giorgias would have returned to Jerusalem with the head of Judas Maccabeus hanging at his saddle-bow."
The insinuation was understood--the instilled poison worked its effect. Antiochus had met his former favourite with an ominous frown. He did not, however, consign Pollux to irremediable ruin; he gave him a chance of redeeming his character from the imputation of treachery towards the Syrian cause. Pollux received a commission from Antiochus to attack and seize a party of Hebrews who, according to information brought by spies, were to celebrate the Passover Feast in Salathiel's house, in defiance of the edict by which the king had endeavoured to crush the religion of those who still worshipped the God of their fathers.
An office more repugnant to the feelings of Pollux could scarcely have been assigned to him, but he dared not show the slightest hesitation in obeying the mandate; nay, the courtier even feigned joy at the opportunity given him of serving the king by rooting out the religion which, in the secret depths of his heart, Pollux regarded as the only true one; for he could not obliterate from memory lessons once learned on his mother's knee. The poor wretch was, as it were, sunk in the quicksand up to his lips, and would have clutched at red-hot iron, had such been the only means of drawing him upwards out of the living grave in which he was being gradually entombed.
Wearing the mask of mirth to conceal his misery, Pollux, before setting out on his hateful mission, jested in regard to the number of fanatic Jews whom he would enclose in his toils, and bring to make sport before the king, to fight wild beasts in the large gymnasium, which had been erected within Jerusalem for games which the Jews regarded as unlawful and sinful. The courtier, in the presence of Antiochus, affected the gay delight of the hunter, trying to cover with a garb of levity the remorse which was gnawing at his heart, and not betray even by a look, the secret torture which he felt.
We know what followed the attack upon Salathiel's house: the flight of the Hebrews, the fall of Abishai, whose last word and dying look inflicted upon Pollux a pang keen enough to have satisfied the fiercest thirst for revenge.
When tidings were brought to the palace that the result of the boasted exertions of Pollux was the death of a single Hebrew and the capture of one young girl, the wrath of the tyrant Antiochus Epiphanes rose higher than before. His courtiers, catching the infection of the anger of the king, showed something of what would have been the indignant rage of an audience crowding the Coliseum at Rome in the expectation of gloating on the sight of many victims flung to the lions, had the spectacle been reduced to the sacrifice of one.
Antiochus, however, determined to have what sport he could out of the single poor gazelle that had been run down by his hounds. One who--albeit, of the weaker sex--had been venturesome enough to keep the Passover feast, might make sufficient resistance to his arbitrary will to afford him a little amusement, when none more exciting could be had. The monarch, therefore, after he had enjoyed his noonday siesta, gave command that the Hebrew prisoner should be brought into his presence in his grand hall of audience.
There sat the tyrant of Syria on an ivory throne, his footstool a crouching silver lion, over his head a canopy of gold. In front of the king was a splendid altar, on which fire was constantly burning before a small image of Jupiter; and the luxurious fragrance of incense, frequently thrown on this fire, filled the magnificent hall. Many courtiers, in splendid apparel, clustered on either side below the dais which raised the throned monarch above them all. Behind these were numerous slaves, mostly Nubians, richly and gaudily dressed, some of whom held aloft large fans of the peacock's many-tinted plumes. The whole scene was one of gorgeous magnificence, the pomp and glory of the world throwing its false halo of beauty over guilty power.
Antiochus himself wore a robe crusted over with sparkling jewels, worth the tribute of a conquered province. He was, as his appearance has been handed down to us on coins, a kingly-looking man, with short curled hair, and regular, strongly-marked features, but a receding forehead, and an expression cold and hard. No one would expect from him "the milk of human kindness." Antiochus looked what he was--a stern, merciless tyrant. There was at this period no premonitory sign in the appearance of the king of that frightful disease which, within a year's time, was to render him an object of horror and loathing to all who approached him--a disease so exquisitely painful, that it seemed to combine and exceed all the tortures which the tyrant had made his victims endure. Antiochus, glittering on his ivory throne, appeared to be in the prime of health as well as the zenith of power; none guessed how brief was the term of mortal existence remaining to the despot, on the breath of whose lips now hung fortune or ruin, whose angry frown was a sentence of death.
A few months before the time of which I am writing, Pollux, after a long sojourn in Antioch, then the capital of the Syrian dominions, had rejoined Antiochus in Jerusalem, where the monarch was holding his court in a luxurious palace which he had caused to be erected. It was here that Pollux first experienced the fickleness of royal favour. The courtier had been present at the trial of Solomona and her brave sons without making the slightest effort to save them, though their fate had moved him to something more than pity. But though Pollux could to a certain extent trample down compunction, and force his conscience to silence, he had not perfect command over his nerves. He might consent to the perpetration of horrors, but he could not endure to witness them; and, as we have seen, he had quietly, and, as he hoped, without attracting notice, quitted the chamber of torture.
The keen eye of jealousy had, however, keenly watched the movements of Pollux, and Lysimachus had not failed to make the most of the weakness betrayed by his rival.
"Pollux has sympathy with the Hebrews," observed Lysimachus to the tyrant, when Antiochus was chafing at being baffled by the fortitude of his victims. "Pollux may wear the Syrian garb, and he loaded with favours by the mighty Syrian king, but he remains at heart a Jew."
From that day Pollux found himself an object of suspicion, and having once reached the quicksand, he gradually sank lower and lower, notwithstanding his desperate efforts to save himself from impending ruin. His most costly gifts, his most fulsome flattery, his assurances of deathless devotion to "the greatest, noblest of the kings who sway realms conquered by Alexander, and surpass the fame of Macedonia's godlike hero," met but the coldest response. Pollux had once been wont to delight the king with his brilliant wit; now his forced jests fell like sparks upon water. Antiochus was growing tired of his favourite, as a child grows tired of the toy which he hugs one day, to break and fling aside on the next.
All the more embarrassed from having to simulate ease, all the more wretched because forcing himself to seem merry, with the sword of Damocles ever hanging over his head, Pollux, in the midst of luxury and pomp, was one of the most miserable of mankind. The court became to him at last an almost intolerable place. In an attempt at once to free himself from its restraints, and to win back the favour of the king by military service, in an evil hour for himself, he had volunteered to join the forces of Nicanor. The courtier was incited by no military ardour; he had no desire to fall on the field of victory; Pollux was not a coward, but he clung to life as those well may cling who have forfeited all hope of anything but misery beyond it. Pollux, as we have seen, had accompanied Giorgias when that general led a detachment of chosen troops to make that night attack upon Judas which had proved so unsuccessful. With Giorgias, Pollux had returned to Jerusalem, covered with shame instead of glory. More than his fair share of the obloquy incurred had fallen to the unfortunate courtier.
"Be assured, O most mighty monarch"--thus had Lysimachus addressed the disappointed tyrant--"that had there been no sympathizers with the Hebrew rebels in the army of the king, Giorgias would have returned to Jerusalem with the head of Judas Maccabeus hanging at his saddle-bow."
The insinuation was understood--the instilled poison worked its effect. Antiochus had met his former favourite with an ominous frown. He did not, however, consign Pollux to irremediable ruin; he gave him a chance of redeeming his character from the imputation of treachery towards the Syrian cause. Pollux received a commission from Antiochus to attack and seize a party of Hebrews who, according to information brought by spies, were to celebrate the Passover Feast in Salathiel's house, in defiance of the edict by which the king had endeavoured to crush the religion of those who still worshipped the God of their fathers.
An office more repugnant to the feelings of Pollux could scarcely have been assigned to him, but he dared not show the slightest hesitation in obeying the mandate; nay, the courtier even feigned joy at the opportunity given him of serving the king by rooting out the religion which, in the secret depths of his heart, Pollux regarded as the only true one; for he could not obliterate from memory lessons once learned on his mother's knee. The poor wretch was, as it were, sunk in the quicksand up to his lips, and would have clutched at red-hot iron, had such been the only means of drawing him upwards out of the living grave in which he was being gradually entombed.
Wearing the mask of mirth to conceal his misery, Pollux, before setting out on his hateful mission, jested in regard to the number of fanatic Jews whom he would enclose in his toils, and bring to make sport before the king, to fight wild beasts in the large gymnasium, which had been erected within Jerusalem for games which the Jews regarded as unlawful and sinful. The courtier, in the presence of Antiochus, affected the gay delight of the hunter, trying to cover with a garb of levity the remorse which was gnawing at his heart, and not betray even by a look, the secret torture which he felt.
We know what followed the attack upon Salathiel's house: the flight of the Hebrews, the fall of Abishai, whose last word and dying look inflicted upon Pollux a pang keen enough to have satisfied the fiercest thirst for revenge.
When tidings were brought to the palace that the result of the boasted exertions of Pollux was the death of a single Hebrew and the capture of one young girl, the wrath of the tyrant Antiochus Epiphanes rose higher than before. His courtiers, catching the infection of the anger of the king, showed something of what would have been the indignant rage of an audience crowding the Coliseum at Rome in the expectation of gloating on the sight of many victims flung to the lions, had the spectacle been reduced to the sacrifice of one.
Antiochus, however, determined to have what sport he could out of the single poor gazelle that had been run down by his hounds. One who--albeit, of the weaker sex--had been venturesome enough to keep the Passover feast, might make sufficient resistance to his arbitrary will to afford him a little amusement, when none more exciting could be had. The monarch, therefore, after he had enjoyed his noonday siesta, gave command that the Hebrew prisoner should be brought into his presence in his grand hall of audience.
There sat the tyrant of Syria on an ivory throne, his footstool a crouching silver lion, over his head a canopy of gold. In front of the king was a splendid altar, on which fire was constantly burning before a small image of Jupiter; and the luxurious fragrance of incense, frequently thrown on this fire, filled the magnificent hall. Many courtiers, in splendid apparel, clustered on either side below the dais which raised the throned monarch above them all. Behind these were numerous slaves, mostly Nubians, richly and gaudily dressed, some of whom held aloft large fans of the peacock's many-tinted plumes. The whole scene was one of gorgeous magnificence, the pomp and glory of the world throwing its false halo of beauty over guilty power.
Antiochus himself wore a robe crusted over with sparkling jewels, worth the tribute of a conquered province. He was, as his appearance has been handed down to us on coins, a kingly-looking man, with short curled hair, and regular, strongly-marked features, but a receding forehead, and an expression cold and hard. No one would expect from him "the milk of human kindness." Antiochus looked what he was--a stern, merciless tyrant. There was at this period no premonitory sign in the appearance of the king of that frightful disease which, within a year's time, was to render him an object of horror and loathing to all who approached him--a disease so exquisitely painful, that it seemed to combine and exceed all the tortures which the tyrant had made his victims endure. Antiochus, glittering on his ivory throne, appeared to be in the prime of health as well as the zenith of power; none guessed how brief was the term of mortal existence remaining to the despot, on the breath of whose lips now hung fortune or ruin, whose angry frown was a sentence of death.
Chapter 19 A Prison
From her long swoon Zarah awoke with a sensation of indescribable horror. The cold drops stood on her brow, and there was a painful tightness at her heart. The poor girl could not at once recall what had happened, but knew that it was something dreadful. The first image that rose up in her mind was that of the expiring Abishai: Zarah shuddered, trembled, raised herself by an effort to a sitting posture, and wildly gazing around her, exclaimed, "Where am I? what can have happened?"
The place in which the maiden found herself was almost quite dark, but as she glanced upwards she could see pale stars gleaming in through a small and heavily-barred window. She knew that she must be in a Syrian prison. Pressing both her hands to her forehead, the young captive recalled the terrible scene of which she had been a witness. "Oh, God be praised that beloved Hadassah was not there!"
Zarah repeated again and again to herself, as if to strengthen her grasp on the only consolation which at first offered itself to her soul. "Abishai's fate is awful--awful!" Zarah shuddered with mingled compassion and horror. "But oh, it is better, far better for him--my poor kinsman--that he did not fall into the hands of the enemy alive, as I have done! That would have been more awful still!"
Zarah was no high-spirited heroine, but a timid, gentle, loving girl, subject to fears, shrinking from danger, peculiarly sensitive to pain whether physical or mental. Though related both to Solomona and Hadassah, Zarah had neither the calm fortitude of the one, nor the exalted spirituality of the other; she deemed herself alike incapable of uttering the inspired words of a prophetess, or showing the firm endurance of a martyr.
And it was a martyr's trial that was now looming before the imprisoned maiden: she would, like Solomona and her sons, have to renounce either her faith or her life. To Zarah this was a terrible alternative, for though, but a few hours previously the poor maiden had longed for death to come and release her from sorrow, the idea of its approach, heralded by such tortures as Hebrew captives had had to undergo, was unspeakably dreadful to the tender spirit of Zarah.
"Oh, I fear that I shall never endure to the end; my courage will give way; I shall disgrace myself, my country, my race, and draw on myself the wrath of my God!" exclaimed Zarah, starting up in terror, after rehearsing to herself the ordeal to which her faith was likely to be exposed. "Woe is me!--what shall I do--what shall I do--is there no way of escape?" Those massive stone walls, those thick iron bars were sufficient answer to the question. Zarah leant against the wall, and raised her clasped hands towards the glimpse of sky seen between those dark bars.
"Oh, my God, have mercy upon me!" she cried; "feeble, utterly helpless in myself, I cast myself upon Thee! Thou hast said, When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee; when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned. Carry the weak lamb in Thy bosom; let me feel beneath the everlasting arms!" The tears were flowing fast down Zarah's cheeks as she sobbed forth her almost inarticulate prayer: "I ask not to be saved from death--not even from torture--if it be Thy will that I should endure it; but oh, save me from falling away from Thee; save me from denying my faith, and breaking the heart of my mother!---And I shall surely be saved!" said Zarah more calmly, her faith gaining strength from the exercise of prayer. "Perhaps the Lord will make the pain tolerable--He to whom all things are possible can do so--or He may even send an angel to protect me, as He sent His bright and holy ones to guard Elisha." The imagination of Zarah pictured a being with glorious wings flying down to her rescue, with a countenance resembling that of Lycidas--to her the type of perfect beauty. "Or the Lord may raise up some earthly friend," continued Zarah. Then fancy again pictured a Lycidas, but this time wanting the wings. The maiden stopped her weeping, and dashed the limpid drops from her eyes. A gleam of brightness seemed to illumine the dark prospect before her. How eagerly do we listen to the voice of hope, even if it be but the echo of a wish, an echo thrown back from the cold hard rock which can only repeat the utterance of our own heart's desires; it comes back to us like music! Zarah's prison would have been far more dreary to the maiden, her approaching trial far more dreadful, had she known the fact that Lycidas had gone to Bethlehem, and had heard nothing of the peril of her whom he loved.
In the same unconsciousness of Zarah's imminent peril, another, to whom she was dearer than the sight of the eyes or the breath of life, lay extended on the ground in sleep, many miles from Jerusalem, with no pillow but that stalwart arm, around which was still twined a slight flaxen strand. A monarch might have envied the dream which made the features of the sleeper relax into an expression of happiness which, when waking, they seldom indeed wore. Maccabeus, lying on the parched dry earth, was in thought seated in an Eden of flowers, with Zarah at his side, her small hand clasped in his own. She was listening with bashful smile and downcast eyes to words such as the warrior had never breathed to her, save in his dreams. All was peace within and without, peace deepening into rapture, even as the sky above appeared almost dark from the intensity of its blue! Such was the Hebrew's dream of Zarah! How different the dream from the actual reality! Had Maccabeus known the actual position of the helpless girl, to guard whom from the slightest wrong he would so willingly have shed his life's blood, even that heart which had never yet quelled in the face of peril would have known for once keenest anguish of fear!
The place in which the maiden found herself was almost quite dark, but as she glanced upwards she could see pale stars gleaming in through a small and heavily-barred window. She knew that she must be in a Syrian prison. Pressing both her hands to her forehead, the young captive recalled the terrible scene of which she had been a witness. "Oh, God be praised that beloved Hadassah was not there!"
Zarah repeated again and again to herself, as if to strengthen her grasp on the only consolation which at first offered itself to her soul. "Abishai's fate is awful--awful!" Zarah shuddered with mingled compassion and horror. "But oh, it is better, far better for him--my poor kinsman--that he did not fall into the hands of the enemy alive, as I have done! That would have been more awful still!"
Zarah was no high-spirited heroine, but a timid, gentle, loving girl, subject to fears, shrinking from danger, peculiarly sensitive to pain whether physical or mental. Though related both to Solomona and Hadassah, Zarah had neither the calm fortitude of the one, nor the exalted spirituality of the other; she deemed herself alike incapable of uttering the inspired words of a prophetess, or showing the firm endurance of a martyr.
And it was a martyr's trial that was now looming before the imprisoned maiden: she would, like Solomona and her sons, have to renounce either her faith or her life. To Zarah this was a terrible alternative, for though, but a few hours previously the poor maiden had longed for death to come and release her from sorrow, the idea of its approach, heralded by such tortures as Hebrew captives had had to undergo, was unspeakably dreadful to the tender spirit of Zarah.
"Oh, I fear that I shall never endure to the end; my courage will give way; I shall disgrace myself, my country, my race, and draw on myself the wrath of my God!" exclaimed Zarah, starting up in terror, after rehearsing to herself the ordeal to which her faith was likely to be exposed. "Woe is me!--what shall I do--what shall I do--is there no way of escape?" Those massive stone walls, those thick iron bars were sufficient answer to the question. Zarah leant against the wall, and raised her clasped hands towards the glimpse of sky seen between those dark bars.
"Oh, my God, have mercy upon me!" she cried; "feeble, utterly helpless in myself, I cast myself upon Thee! Thou hast said, When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee; when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned. Carry the weak lamb in Thy bosom; let me feel beneath the everlasting arms!" The tears were flowing fast down Zarah's cheeks as she sobbed forth her almost inarticulate prayer: "I ask not to be saved from death--not even from torture--if it be Thy will that I should endure it; but oh, save me from falling away from Thee; save me from denying my faith, and breaking the heart of my mother!---And I shall surely be saved!" said Zarah more calmly, her faith gaining strength from the exercise of prayer. "Perhaps the Lord will make the pain tolerable--He to whom all things are possible can do so--or He may even send an angel to protect me, as He sent His bright and holy ones to guard Elisha." The imagination of Zarah pictured a being with glorious wings flying down to her rescue, with a countenance resembling that of Lycidas--to her the type of perfect beauty. "Or the Lord may raise up some earthly friend," continued Zarah. Then fancy again pictured a Lycidas, but this time wanting the wings. The maiden stopped her weeping, and dashed the limpid drops from her eyes. A gleam of brightness seemed to illumine the dark prospect before her. How eagerly do we listen to the voice of hope, even if it be but the echo of a wish, an echo thrown back from the cold hard rock which can only repeat the utterance of our own heart's desires; it comes back to us like music! Zarah's prison would have been far more dreary to the maiden, her approaching trial far more dreadful, had she known the fact that Lycidas had gone to Bethlehem, and had heard nothing of the peril of her whom he loved.
In the same unconsciousness of Zarah's imminent peril, another, to whom she was dearer than the sight of the eyes or the breath of life, lay extended on the ground in sleep, many miles from Jerusalem, with no pillow but that stalwart arm, around which was still twined a slight flaxen strand. A monarch might have envied the dream which made the features of the sleeper relax into an expression of happiness which, when waking, they seldom indeed wore. Maccabeus, lying on the parched dry earth, was in thought seated in an Eden of flowers, with Zarah at his side, her small hand clasped in his own. She was listening with bashful smile and downcast eyes to words such as the warrior had never breathed to her, save in his dreams. All was peace within and without, peace deepening into rapture, even as the sky above appeared almost dark from the intensity of its blue! Such was the Hebrew's dream of Zarah! How different the dream from the actual reality! Had Maccabeus known the actual position of the helpless girl, to guard whom from the slightest wrong he would so willingly have shed his life's blood, even that heart which had never yet quelled in the face of peril would have known for once keenest anguish of fear!
Monday, November 7, 2011
Chapter 18 The Passover Feast
Very different was the celebration of the Feast of Unleavened Bread in the days of Antiochus Epiphanes from what it had been in the palmy times when the children of Israel were swayed by their own native kings. There was now no mighty gathering together of the people from Dan to Beersheba; herdsmen driving their lowing cattle, shepherds leading their bleating flocks from the slopes of Carmel, and the pastures beneath the snow-capt heights of Lebanon. Fishermen left not their nets by the shores of the inland lakes, nor their boats drawn up on the coast by the sea, to go up, as their fathers had gone, to worship the Lord in Zion. There were no pilgrims from Sharon's plains or the mountains of Gilead. Jerusalem was not crowded with joyful worshippers, and her streets made almost impassable by the droves and flocks collected for sacrifice, as when Josiah held his never-to-be-forgotten Passover Feast. There were no loud bursts of joyful music, as when the singers, the sons of Asaph, ranged in their appointed places, led the chorus of glad thanksgiving. Groups of Hebrews, by twos and threes, stealthily made their way, as if bound on some secret and dangerous errand, to the few houses in which the owners were bold enough or pious enough to prepare the Paschal feast.
Amongst these dwellings was that of the elder Salathiel, a man who, in despite of threatened persecution, still dared to worship God according to the law as given through Moses. In an upper room in his house all was set ready for the celebration of the feast, in order as seemly as circumstances would permit. The Paschal lamb had been roasted whole in a circular pit in the ground; it had been roasted transfixed on two spits thrust through it, one lengthwise and one transversely, so as to form a cross. The wild and bitter herbs, with which it was to be eaten, had been carefully washed and prepared. On the table had been placed plates containing unleavened bread, and four cups filled with red wine mingled with water.
There had been difficulty in gathering together on this occasion, in the house of Salathiel, even the ten individuals that formed the smallest number deemed by the Hebrews sufficient for the due celebration of the feast. Three of the persons present were females, two of them belonging to Salathiel's own family. The third was Zarah, who, closely shrouded in her large linen veil, came under the escort of Abishai her uncle. The guests arrived late, having had to change their course more than once, from the suspicion that they were dogged by Syrian spies.
Greetings, in that upper chamber, were interchanged in low tones; whispered conversation was held as to the recent events, the tidings of which had thrilled like an electric shock through the heart of Jerusalem. The victories of Judas Maccabeus were in every mind and on every tongue. Glad prophecies were circulated amongst the guests that the next Passover would not be held in secret, and kept with maimed rites like the present; but that ere the circling year brought round the holy season again, the sanctuary would be cleansed, the city free, and that white-robed priests and Levites would gather together in the open face of day, where the smoke of sacrifice should rise from the altar of God's Temple.
Zarah was the most silent and sad of those who met in the house of Salathiel. Many thoughts were flowing through her mind, which she would not have dared to put into words.
"Is it sinful to desire that the blessings of the covenant were not so exclusive?" Thus mused the young Hebrew maid. "Is it sinful to wish that the wall of partition could be broken down, and that Jews and Gentiles, descended from one common Father, and created by one merciful God, could meet to break bread and drink wine in loving communion together? And, if my mother Hadassah reads Scripture aright, may not such a time be approaching? Precious and goodly is the golden seven-branched candlestick of the Temple; but is not the Sun of Righteousness to arise with healing on His wings (Mal. iv. 2), and will the candlestick then be needed? The candles illumine but one chosen spot; the sun shines from the east to the west, the glory and light of the world! Can God care only for the children of Abraham? Lycidas has told us of far-distant isles in the West, where the poor savages are sunk in darkest idolatry, where they actually offer human sacrifices to their huge wicker-idols. Yet might not God in His loving-kindness have mercy even on such wretches as these? Would it be quite impossible that Britons should receive the light of His Word, even as they receive the light of His sunshine? I would fain cling to this hope; I trust that the hope is not presumptuous. And if even these savage islanders be not quite beyond reach of the mercy of the Great Father, will not that mercy embrace the Greeks, the brave, the noble, the gifted? But my thoughts wander upon dangerous ground. Can there be salvation for any that may not partake of the Paschal lamb? Is not exclusion from this feast exclusion from pardoning grace? Oh that there could be a Lamb whose blood could take away the sins of all the world--a Sacrifice of such priceless worth, that not in Jerusalem alone, but through all the earth, there might be forgiveness, and hope, and salvation for all who in faith partake of its merits!"
The solemn feast now commenced. The bread was blessed by Salathiel, broken, and then distributed around. The first cupful of wine was silently shared; but when the second was passed around, the lesser Hallel, being the 113th and 114th psalms, were chanted in low subdued tones.
Suddenly, in the midst of a verse, every voice was silenced at once, every head turned to listen. The clank of a weapon that had fallen on the paved courtyard below, was to the startled assembly above what the blood-hound's bay is to the deer.
"The Syrians have found us; we are betrayed!" ejaculated Abishai, starting up and drawing his sword.
"Fly! fly!" was echoed from mouth to mouth. The apartment in which the Hebrews were assembled had two doors--one communicating by a staircase with the courtyard below, the other, on the opposite side of the room, leading to the roof, which was near enough to other dwellings to afford a tolerable chance of escape to those who should make their way over them under cover of the dusk. It was partly on account of this advantage presented by Salathiel's house that it had been chosen as the scene of the Paschal Feast. The second door, through which escape might thus be effected, had been prudently left wide open, and at the first alarm there was a general rush made towards it.
Terror so often has the effect of confusing the mind, that the impressions made by passing events, though painfully vivid in colouring, are not distinct in their outlines. Zarah could have given no clear account of the scene which followed, which was to her like a horrible dream. The instinct to make her escape was strong; but as she attempted to fly, the maiden's veil caught in something, she knew not what--it was three or four seconds--they seemed as many hours--before she could extricate it. Zarah heard thundering noises at the one door, rushing sounds of flight at the other; then there was a bursting open of the frail barrier which divided her from the enemy, and Zarah felt rather than saw that the place was filled with soldiers! One sight was indelibly stamped on her brain--it was that of Abishai all streaming with blood, his eyes glaring and glazed, his teeth clenched, as he hissed out the word "apostate!" in the last pangs of death. Zarah knew that it was death.
Then rude hands were laid on herself; and the terrified girl felt as the gazelle feels under the claws of the tiger! She was too much alarmed to have breath even to utter a scream.
"Hold! harm not the girl!" cried a voice which sounded to Zarah strangely familiar, though she knew not where she could possibly have heard it before; and she saw a tall officer in Syrian dress, the same who has been introduced to the reader more than once under the name of Pollux, who appeared to be in command of the assailing party. Zarah, in her agony of terror, stretched out her hands for protection to one in whose features, even at that moment, she recognized the Hebrew type. But Zarah could not appeal for mercy save by that supplicating gesture; horror so overpowered her senses that she swooned away; and had the steel then done its cruel work, she would have felt no pain. But the command of Antiochus had been rather to seize than to slay; and the soldiers, by the order of Pollux, carried off as their only prisoner a senseless maiden, leaving the dead body of Abishai on the floor dyed with his blood.
Amongst these dwellings was that of the elder Salathiel, a man who, in despite of threatened persecution, still dared to worship God according to the law as given through Moses. In an upper room in his house all was set ready for the celebration of the feast, in order as seemly as circumstances would permit. The Paschal lamb had been roasted whole in a circular pit in the ground; it had been roasted transfixed on two spits thrust through it, one lengthwise and one transversely, so as to form a cross. The wild and bitter herbs, with which it was to be eaten, had been carefully washed and prepared. On the table had been placed plates containing unleavened bread, and four cups filled with red wine mingled with water.
There had been difficulty in gathering together on this occasion, in the house of Salathiel, even the ten individuals that formed the smallest number deemed by the Hebrews sufficient for the due celebration of the feast. Three of the persons present were females, two of them belonging to Salathiel's own family. The third was Zarah, who, closely shrouded in her large linen veil, came under the escort of Abishai her uncle. The guests arrived late, having had to change their course more than once, from the suspicion that they were dogged by Syrian spies.
Greetings, in that upper chamber, were interchanged in low tones; whispered conversation was held as to the recent events, the tidings of which had thrilled like an electric shock through the heart of Jerusalem. The victories of Judas Maccabeus were in every mind and on every tongue. Glad prophecies were circulated amongst the guests that the next Passover would not be held in secret, and kept with maimed rites like the present; but that ere the circling year brought round the holy season again, the sanctuary would be cleansed, the city free, and that white-robed priests and Levites would gather together in the open face of day, where the smoke of sacrifice should rise from the altar of God's Temple.
Zarah was the most silent and sad of those who met in the house of Salathiel. Many thoughts were flowing through her mind, which she would not have dared to put into words.
"Is it sinful to desire that the blessings of the covenant were not so exclusive?" Thus mused the young Hebrew maid. "Is it sinful to wish that the wall of partition could be broken down, and that Jews and Gentiles, descended from one common Father, and created by one merciful God, could meet to break bread and drink wine in loving communion together? And, if my mother Hadassah reads Scripture aright, may not such a time be approaching? Precious and goodly is the golden seven-branched candlestick of the Temple; but is not the Sun of Righteousness to arise with healing on His wings (Mal. iv. 2), and will the candlestick then be needed? The candles illumine but one chosen spot; the sun shines from the east to the west, the glory and light of the world! Can God care only for the children of Abraham? Lycidas has told us of far-distant isles in the West, where the poor savages are sunk in darkest idolatry, where they actually offer human sacrifices to their huge wicker-idols. Yet might not God in His loving-kindness have mercy even on such wretches as these? Would it be quite impossible that Britons should receive the light of His Word, even as they receive the light of His sunshine? I would fain cling to this hope; I trust that the hope is not presumptuous. And if even these savage islanders be not quite beyond reach of the mercy of the Great Father, will not that mercy embrace the Greeks, the brave, the noble, the gifted? But my thoughts wander upon dangerous ground. Can there be salvation for any that may not partake of the Paschal lamb? Is not exclusion from this feast exclusion from pardoning grace? Oh that there could be a Lamb whose blood could take away the sins of all the world--a Sacrifice of such priceless worth, that not in Jerusalem alone, but through all the earth, there might be forgiveness, and hope, and salvation for all who in faith partake of its merits!"
The solemn feast now commenced. The bread was blessed by Salathiel, broken, and then distributed around. The first cupful of wine was silently shared; but when the second was passed around, the lesser Hallel, being the 113th and 114th psalms, were chanted in low subdued tones.
Suddenly, in the midst of a verse, every voice was silenced at once, every head turned to listen. The clank of a weapon that had fallen on the paved courtyard below, was to the startled assembly above what the blood-hound's bay is to the deer.
"The Syrians have found us; we are betrayed!" ejaculated Abishai, starting up and drawing his sword.
"Fly! fly!" was echoed from mouth to mouth. The apartment in which the Hebrews were assembled had two doors--one communicating by a staircase with the courtyard below, the other, on the opposite side of the room, leading to the roof, which was near enough to other dwellings to afford a tolerable chance of escape to those who should make their way over them under cover of the dusk. It was partly on account of this advantage presented by Salathiel's house that it had been chosen as the scene of the Paschal Feast. The second door, through which escape might thus be effected, had been prudently left wide open, and at the first alarm there was a general rush made towards it.
Terror so often has the effect of confusing the mind, that the impressions made by passing events, though painfully vivid in colouring, are not distinct in their outlines. Zarah could have given no clear account of the scene which followed, which was to her like a horrible dream. The instinct to make her escape was strong; but as she attempted to fly, the maiden's veil caught in something, she knew not what--it was three or four seconds--they seemed as many hours--before she could extricate it. Zarah heard thundering noises at the one door, rushing sounds of flight at the other; then there was a bursting open of the frail barrier which divided her from the enemy, and Zarah felt rather than saw that the place was filled with soldiers! One sight was indelibly stamped on her brain--it was that of Abishai all streaming with blood, his eyes glaring and glazed, his teeth clenched, as he hissed out the word "apostate!" in the last pangs of death. Zarah knew that it was death.
Then rude hands were laid on herself; and the terrified girl felt as the gazelle feels under the claws of the tiger! She was too much alarmed to have breath even to utter a scream.
"Hold! harm not the girl!" cried a voice which sounded to Zarah strangely familiar, though she knew not where she could possibly have heard it before; and she saw a tall officer in Syrian dress, the same who has been introduced to the reader more than once under the name of Pollux, who appeared to be in command of the assailing party. Zarah, in her agony of terror, stretched out her hands for protection to one in whose features, even at that moment, she recognized the Hebrew type. But Zarah could not appeal for mercy save by that supplicating gesture; horror so overpowered her senses that she swooned away; and had the steel then done its cruel work, she would have felt no pain. But the command of Antiochus had been rather to seize than to slay; and the soldiers, by the order of Pollux, carried off as their only prisoner a senseless maiden, leaving the dead body of Abishai on the floor dyed with his blood.
Chapter 17 Departed
When Zarah, trembling and pale, after her interview with Lycidas, fled to the apartment of Hadassah, she left her water-jar behind her at the spring. The sight of her grandmother, stretched on her low couch, with her eyes closed, and her lips parched and dry, recalled to the remembrance of the poor young maiden the errand for which she had quitted her side.
"The water! the water!" exclaimed Zarah, striking her brow. "She must have it. But oh! I dare not--I dare not go back; for nothing on earth could I go through that terrible struggle again!"
As Zarah stood on the threshold, in a state of painful indecision, to her great relief she heard the voice of Anna below, and called to her to bring up the jar of water which she would find at the fountain. Anna quickly obeyed, and came up the stairs laden, not only with the cooling fluid, but with ripe fruit and vegetables, which she had brought from Jerusalem--the white mulberry and the nebeb, with early figs, cucumbers, and a melon.
Very grateful was the supply to Hadassah; but more refreshing by far than the draught of cold water were the tidings which Anna had brought from the city. The Jewess was full of eagerness to a impart her glorious news.
"I saw them myself--Giorgias and his horsemen--jaded, crestfallen, as they rode through the streets," cried Anna. "I marvel that they dared show their faces: they had not so much as crossed weapons with our conquering heroes!"
"Or they had not lived to tell the tale," exclaimed Hadassah, to whom the news of the victory at Emmaus seemed to give new energy and life.
"We dared not clap our hands and shout," continued the Jewish servant; "but there is not a Hebrew child that is not wild with joy. We blessed the name of Maccabeus, though we could only breathe it in whispers."
"But a day is coming when the welkin shall ring with that name, and the walls of Jerusalem echo back the sound," cried Hadassah. "Oh, my child!" she continued, glancing joyfully at Zarah, "there will be a thankful celebration of the Passover to-morrow. The Lord is giving deliverance to His chosen, even as He once did from the power of the haughty Pharaoh."
"It must be a very quiet keeping of the Feast," observed Anna, shaking her head. "It is said that King Antiochus is raging like a bear robbed of her whelps at the flight of Nicanor and the disgraceful retreat of Giorgias. A courier has ridden off, post-haste, bearer of despatches from the king to Lycias, the regent of the western provinces."
"Is it known what the despatches contain?" asked Hadassah.
"It is reported in the city," said Anna, "that Lycias is to raise a more mighty and terrible army than any that has swept the country before--more mighty than those led by Apollonius, Seron, or Nicanor. King Antiochus has sworn by all his false gods that he will destroy the Asmoneans root and branch."
"What God hath planted, who shall root up? what God prospers, who shall destroy?" cried Hadassah. "Thinks Antiochus Epiphanes that he hath power to strive against the Lord?"
"He has terrible power to use against man," said Anna, who had a less courageous spirit than her mistress. "Sharper measures than ever, it is said, are to be taken to put down our secret worship. Woe unto them who are found keeping the Passover to-morrow! It will be done unto them, as it was done to Solomona and her sons."
"Would that God would give me strength to attend the holy Feast!" cried Hadassah, on whom the idea of danger following its celebration appeared to act as a stimulant; "no fear of man should keep me away. But He who withholds the power accepts the will of His servant."
"I will go with my uncle Abishai," said Zarah.
"To rejoice and give thanks," cried Hadassah.
But Zarah's sinking heart could not respond to any accents of joy. She bowed her head on he clasped hands, and faintly murmured,--
"To pray for you, for myself, and--"
No human ear could catch the word which pale lips inaudibly framed.
"Go to our young Greek guest, Anna," Hadassah. "Bear to him some of this ripe, cooling fruit, and tell him of the triumphs of Judas. Though Lycidas be but a heathen," she added, as her handmaiden quitted the apartment to do her bidding, "he has a soul to admire, if he cannot emulate, the lofty deeds of our heroes."
In a brief space of time Anna returned to the upper room, with alarm and surprise depicted on her face.
"I can nowhere find the Greek lord," she exclaimed. "He has made his escape from the house. There is nothing left but his mantle, and that had fallen near the spring."
Hadassah glanced inquiringly at Zarah. But the maiden betrayed no surprise, uttered no word. She only trembled a little, as if from cold; for the sultry heat of Nisan seemed to her suddenly to have changed to the chill of winter. Hadassah made little observation on the flight of Lycidas until Anna had again quitted the apartment, when the widow lady said abruptly,--
"It was strange to leave without a word of farewell, a word of thanks, after having been for months treated as a guest, almost as a son!"
Zarah, with her cold, nervous fingers, was unconsciously engaged in tearing the edge of her veil into a fringe.
"If I were not uneasy regarding the safety of Abishai," resumed Hadassah--
But here, for the first time in her life, Zarah, with an appearance of impatience, interrupted the speech of her revered relative.
"Have no fear for Abishai," cried the maiden, raising her head, and throwing back the long tresses which, from her drooping position, had fallen over her pallid face. "Have no fear for Abishai," she repeated. "The Greek will never repay your generous hospitality by revenging his private injuries upon your son. I can answer for his forbearance."
"You are right, my child," said Hadassah, tenderly. "I did Lycidas a wrong by expressing a doubt. Abishai is secure in his silence; and, such being the case, I believe--nay, I feel assured--that, it is better that we harbour the stranger here no longer. I am thankful that Lycidas has left us though his manner of departing seem somewhat churlish."
Was Zarah thankful also? Perhaps she was, though a miserable void seemed to be left in young heart, which she felt that nothing could ever fill up. More an orphan than the fatherless and motherless, more desolate than the widow, loving and beloved, yet--save for one sick and aged woman--alone in the world, it seemed to Zarah that a slight tie bound her to life, and that even that tie was gradually breaking. On the eve of that day of sore trial, the spring behind the dwelling had quite dried up: not a single drop gushed forth from the hill to revive the fading oleanders.
Just before sunset a laden mule was driven to the door of Hadassah's humble retreat. It was led by Joab, a Jew who had in former years been servant to the lady, and who had been one of those who had bravely assisted in digging the grave of the martyrs. His presence, therefore, in that unfrequented spot excited no alarm.
"Anna," said he, addressing the handmaid who stood in the doorway (for he knew her by name), "help me to unload my mule; and do you bear what I bring to your mistress."
"From whence comes all this?" asked Anna, with no small curiosity.
"I met to-day," replied Joab, "the same stranger whom we caught lurking amidst the olives on the night of the burial of Solomona--(that was nigh being his last night upon earth!) He looked ghastly, as if himself new risen from the grave, and scarcely able to drag his steps along. I helped to raise him on my mule, and it bore him to a house in the city which he mentioned. I doubt whether the Gentile recognized me--his mind seemed to be strangely wandering--till I asked him where he had been since we had met by moonlight under a tree; and then he started, and looked fixedly into my face. He knew me, and did not forget that I had been one to spare his life by stepping over the spear," continued the muleteer, with a grim smile. "The Gentile is not ungrateful. I suppose that he remembered that he owed a debt in another quarter also, for he bade me return in a few hours; and when I did so, charged me to bear these things to the dwelling of the Lady Hadassah--ay, and gave me this purse of silver for her handmaid."
"The Lord Lycidas has a noble heart! Would that he were a son of Abraham!" exclaimed the delighted Anna, as she received the gift of the Greek. With mingled curiosity and pleasure Anna then carried up what Joab had brought to the housetop, on which the Hebrew ladies were then sitting, for the sake of the cooling breeze of even. At the bidding of Hadassah, Anna removed the outer wrappings which enclosed what Lycidas had sent, and drew forth a store of goodly gifts, selected with exquisite taste--graceful ornaments, embroidery in gold, the lamp of delicate workmanship, the mirror of polished steel. Anna could not forbear uttering exclamations of admiration; but Hadassah and her grand-daughter looked on in grave silence, until a scroll was handed to the former, which she opened and read aloud.
"With these worthless tokens of remembrance, accept the deep gratitude of one who has learned in a few too brief months under your roof more than he could elsewhere have learned in a life-time, of the loftiness of faith and the heroism of virtue."
"The water! the water!" exclaimed Zarah, striking her brow. "She must have it. But oh! I dare not--I dare not go back; for nothing on earth could I go through that terrible struggle again!"
As Zarah stood on the threshold, in a state of painful indecision, to her great relief she heard the voice of Anna below, and called to her to bring up the jar of water which she would find at the fountain. Anna quickly obeyed, and came up the stairs laden, not only with the cooling fluid, but with ripe fruit and vegetables, which she had brought from Jerusalem--the white mulberry and the nebeb, with early figs, cucumbers, and a melon.
Very grateful was the supply to Hadassah; but more refreshing by far than the draught of cold water were the tidings which Anna had brought from the city. The Jewess was full of eagerness to a impart her glorious news.
"I saw them myself--Giorgias and his horsemen--jaded, crestfallen, as they rode through the streets," cried Anna. "I marvel that they dared show their faces: they had not so much as crossed weapons with our conquering heroes!"
"Or they had not lived to tell the tale," exclaimed Hadassah, to whom the news of the victory at Emmaus seemed to give new energy and life.
"We dared not clap our hands and shout," continued the Jewish servant; "but there is not a Hebrew child that is not wild with joy. We blessed the name of Maccabeus, though we could only breathe it in whispers."
"But a day is coming when the welkin shall ring with that name, and the walls of Jerusalem echo back the sound," cried Hadassah. "Oh, my child!" she continued, glancing joyfully at Zarah, "there will be a thankful celebration of the Passover to-morrow. The Lord is giving deliverance to His chosen, even as He once did from the power of the haughty Pharaoh."
"It must be a very quiet keeping of the Feast," observed Anna, shaking her head. "It is said that King Antiochus is raging like a bear robbed of her whelps at the flight of Nicanor and the disgraceful retreat of Giorgias. A courier has ridden off, post-haste, bearer of despatches from the king to Lycias, the regent of the western provinces."
"Is it known what the despatches contain?" asked Hadassah.
"It is reported in the city," said Anna, "that Lycias is to raise a more mighty and terrible army than any that has swept the country before--more mighty than those led by Apollonius, Seron, or Nicanor. King Antiochus has sworn by all his false gods that he will destroy the Asmoneans root and branch."
"What God hath planted, who shall root up? what God prospers, who shall destroy?" cried Hadassah. "Thinks Antiochus Epiphanes that he hath power to strive against the Lord?"
"He has terrible power to use against man," said Anna, who had a less courageous spirit than her mistress. "Sharper measures than ever, it is said, are to be taken to put down our secret worship. Woe unto them who are found keeping the Passover to-morrow! It will be done unto them, as it was done to Solomona and her sons."
"Would that God would give me strength to attend the holy Feast!" cried Hadassah, on whom the idea of danger following its celebration appeared to act as a stimulant; "no fear of man should keep me away. But He who withholds the power accepts the will of His servant."
"I will go with my uncle Abishai," said Zarah.
"To rejoice and give thanks," cried Hadassah.
But Zarah's sinking heart could not respond to any accents of joy. She bowed her head on he clasped hands, and faintly murmured,--
"To pray for you, for myself, and--"
No human ear could catch the word which pale lips inaudibly framed.
"Go to our young Greek guest, Anna," Hadassah. "Bear to him some of this ripe, cooling fruit, and tell him of the triumphs of Judas. Though Lycidas be but a heathen," she added, as her handmaiden quitted the apartment to do her bidding, "he has a soul to admire, if he cannot emulate, the lofty deeds of our heroes."
In a brief space of time Anna returned to the upper room, with alarm and surprise depicted on her face.
"I can nowhere find the Greek lord," she exclaimed. "He has made his escape from the house. There is nothing left but his mantle, and that had fallen near the spring."
Hadassah glanced inquiringly at Zarah. But the maiden betrayed no surprise, uttered no word. She only trembled a little, as if from cold; for the sultry heat of Nisan seemed to her suddenly to have changed to the chill of winter. Hadassah made little observation on the flight of Lycidas until Anna had again quitted the apartment, when the widow lady said abruptly,--
"It was strange to leave without a word of farewell, a word of thanks, after having been for months treated as a guest, almost as a son!"
Zarah, with her cold, nervous fingers, was unconsciously engaged in tearing the edge of her veil into a fringe.
"If I were not uneasy regarding the safety of Abishai," resumed Hadassah--
But here, for the first time in her life, Zarah, with an appearance of impatience, interrupted the speech of her revered relative.
"Have no fear for Abishai," cried the maiden, raising her head, and throwing back the long tresses which, from her drooping position, had fallen over her pallid face. "Have no fear for Abishai," she repeated. "The Greek will never repay your generous hospitality by revenging his private injuries upon your son. I can answer for his forbearance."
"You are right, my child," said Hadassah, tenderly. "I did Lycidas a wrong by expressing a doubt. Abishai is secure in his silence; and, such being the case, I believe--nay, I feel assured--that, it is better that we harbour the stranger here no longer. I am thankful that Lycidas has left us though his manner of departing seem somewhat churlish."
Was Zarah thankful also? Perhaps she was, though a miserable void seemed to be left in young heart, which she felt that nothing could ever fill up. More an orphan than the fatherless and motherless, more desolate than the widow, loving and beloved, yet--save for one sick and aged woman--alone in the world, it seemed to Zarah that a slight tie bound her to life, and that even that tie was gradually breaking. On the eve of that day of sore trial, the spring behind the dwelling had quite dried up: not a single drop gushed forth from the hill to revive the fading oleanders.
Just before sunset a laden mule was driven to the door of Hadassah's humble retreat. It was led by Joab, a Jew who had in former years been servant to the lady, and who had been one of those who had bravely assisted in digging the grave of the martyrs. His presence, therefore, in that unfrequented spot excited no alarm.
"Anna," said he, addressing the handmaid who stood in the doorway (for he knew her by name), "help me to unload my mule; and do you bear what I bring to your mistress."
"From whence comes all this?" asked Anna, with no small curiosity.
"I met to-day," replied Joab, "the same stranger whom we caught lurking amidst the olives on the night of the burial of Solomona--(that was nigh being his last night upon earth!) He looked ghastly, as if himself new risen from the grave, and scarcely able to drag his steps along. I helped to raise him on my mule, and it bore him to a house in the city which he mentioned. I doubt whether the Gentile recognized me--his mind seemed to be strangely wandering--till I asked him where he had been since we had met by moonlight under a tree; and then he started, and looked fixedly into my face. He knew me, and did not forget that I had been one to spare his life by stepping over the spear," continued the muleteer, with a grim smile. "The Gentile is not ungrateful. I suppose that he remembered that he owed a debt in another quarter also, for he bade me return in a few hours; and when I did so, charged me to bear these things to the dwelling of the Lady Hadassah--ay, and gave me this purse of silver for her handmaid."
"The Lord Lycidas has a noble heart! Would that he were a son of Abraham!" exclaimed the delighted Anna, as she received the gift of the Greek. With mingled curiosity and pleasure Anna then carried up what Joab had brought to the housetop, on which the Hebrew ladies were then sitting, for the sake of the cooling breeze of even. At the bidding of Hadassah, Anna removed the outer wrappings which enclosed what Lycidas had sent, and drew forth a store of goodly gifts, selected with exquisite taste--graceful ornaments, embroidery in gold, the lamp of delicate workmanship, the mirror of polished steel. Anna could not forbear uttering exclamations of admiration; but Hadassah and her grand-daughter looked on in grave silence, until a scroll was handed to the former, which she opened and read aloud.
"With these worthless tokens of remembrance, accept the deep gratitude of one who has learned in a few too brief months under your roof more than he could elsewhere have learned in a life-time, of the loftiness of faith and the heroism of virtue."
Chapter 16 Battle Of Emmaus
But the struggle was not to be deferred the morning.
Night had just spread her veil of darkness over earth, and Simon, prudently reserving his strength for the expected fatigues of the coming day, had wrapped himself in his mantle, and stretched himself on the ground to snatch some hours of repose, when he was roused by the touch of a hand on his shoulder. Opening his eyes, Simon saw, by the red light of a torch, which the armour-bearer of Judas was holding aloft, that Maccabeus was before him.
"Awake, arise, my brother; this is no time for sleep," said the leader. Simon was on his feet in a moment, an attentive listener, as Maccabeus continued: "A scout has just brought in tidings from the Syrian camp that Nicanor has detached five thousand of his foot-soldiers and a thousand chosen horsemen, under the command of Giorgias, to attack us this night, and take us by surprise."
"They will find us prepared," said Simon, as he girded on his sword.
"Nay; they will find their prey flown," replied Maccabeus, his features relaxing into a stern smile; "we will fall on the Syrian camp in their absence, teach the enemy his own lesson, and transfer the surprise to our foes."
"Well thought of!" exclaimed Simon; "darkness also will serve to hide the weakness of our force."
"Our brethren are now marshalling our warriors," said Judas; "all, under God, depends upon silence, promptitude, decision. We fight for our lives and our laws."
The leader turned to depart, but as he did so accidentally dropped something on the ground. He stooped to raise and twist it rapidly round his left arm, under the sleeve. The incident was so very trifling that it scarcely drew the notice of Simon, though the thought did flit across his mind that it was strange that his brother, on the eve of battle, could pause to pick up anything so utterly valueless as a slight skein of unbleached flax. It was valueless indeed, save from the associations which, in the mind of him who wore it, were entwined with every thread. That flax had been once used to tie together some flowers long since dead; the flowers had been dropped into a grave of martyrs; the light skein had fallen on the upturned sod unnoticed save by the eyes of one. Perhaps it was from remembrance of the dead, or perhaps it was because hopes regarding the living (hopes brighter and sweeter than the flowers had been) seemed now bound up in that flaxen strand, that Maccabeus fastened that skein round his arm as a precious thing, when he would not have stooped to pick up a chaplet of pearls.
By the exertions of the five Asmonean brethren, the little Hebrew army was rapidly put under arms, and prepared for the night attack. The whole force was united as one forlorn hope. As moves the dark cloud in the sky, so darkly and silently moved on the band of heroes, and, like that cloud, they bore the thunderbolt with them.
Most of the Syrians on that eventful night were sunk in sleep, but not all; in their camp some kept up their revels till late. All the luxuries which fancy could devise or wealth could purchase were gathered together at Emmaus to hide the grim front of war, so that the camp by daylight presented the motley appearance of a bazaar with the gay magnificence of a court. There sherbet sparkled in vases of silver, and the red wine was poured into golden cups, chased and embossed, in tents stretched out with silken cords. Garments bright with all the varied tints of the rainbow, rich productions of Oriental looms, robes from Tyre, shawls from Cashmere, blended with instruments of warfare, swords, spears, and bucklers, the battle-axe and the helmet. The sentry, pacing his rounds, paused to listen to wild bursts of merriment, the loud oath and light song from some gay pavilion, where young Syrian nobles were exchanging jests, and indulging in deep carousals. Yonder, in the glaring torch-light, sat a group of officers, engaged in some game of chance, and their stakes were the captives whom they were to drag at their chariot-wheels on the morrow. Each throw of the dice decided the fate of a Hebrew; at least, so deemed the merry gamesters.
But the destined slaves were coming to the market sooner than their expectant masters dreamed or desired, and the price for each Hebrew would be exacted, not in gold, but in blood. Suddenly the gamesters at their play, the revellers at the board, the slumberers on their couches, were startled by the blare of trumpets and a ringing war-cry, "The sword of the Lord and Maccabeus!" The full goblet was dashed from the lip, the dice from the hand; there were wild shouts and cries, and rushing to and fro, soldiers snatching up weapons, merchants flying hither and thither for safety, stumbling over tent-ropes in the darkness. There were confused noises of terror, trampling of feet, snorting of horses, calls to arms, clashing of weapons, with all the horrors of sudden panic spreading like an epidemic through the mighty host of Syria. The few remained to oppose the unseen assailants, the many took to flight; the ground was soon strewn with treasure, dropped by terrified fugitives, and weapons thrown down by warriors who had not the courage to use them. Tents were speedily blazing, and horses, terrified by the sudden glare and maddened by the scorching heat, prancing, plunging, rushing wildly through the camp, added to the fearful confusion. Maccabeus, with the sword of Apollonius in his hand, pressed on to victory over heaps of prostrate foes. Terror was sent as a herald before him, and success followed wherever he trode. It seemed as if the Lord of Hosts were fighting for Israel, as in the old days of Gideon.
Hot was the pursuit after the flying Syrians; Maccabeus and his warriors followed hard on their track to Gazora, Azotus, and Jamnia, and that southern part of Judaea lying between the Red Sea and Sodom, to which, from its having been colonized by Edomites, had been given the name of Idumea. For many a mile the track of the fugitives was marked by their dead.
But as the morning dawned after that terrible though glorious night, the trumpets of Maccabeus sounded to call his troops together. The leader had not forgotten--though some of his eager followers might have done so--that Giorgias, with an army of chosen warriors, doubling their own in number, and comparatively fresh, was yet to be encountered. With stern displeasure Maccabeus saw his own men, grim with blood and dust, loading themselves with the rich plunder which lay on the road; like fruit under orchard trees after a wild tornado.
"Be not greedy of the spoils," cried the leader, "inasmuch as there is a battle before us; but stand ye now against our enemies, and overcome them, and after this ye may boldly take the spoils."
It is a more difficult task to call hounds off the prey that they have run down, than to let them slip from the leashes when the quarry first is in sight. It needed such moral influence over his men as was possessed by Maccabeus to enforce instant obedience when wealth was at their feet, and needed but the gathering up.
It was speedily seen, however, that the warning of the Asmonean chief had not been unnecessary. But a few minutes elapsed after the utterance of that warning, when the vanguard of the forces of Giorgias appeared on the crest of a hill at some distance, the live-long night having been spent by them in a vain attempt to discover the camp of the Hebrews. After a long, tedious march, Giorgias found himself on a commanding height, from whence at dawn he had an extensive view of the surrounding country.
"The slaves have fled--they have made their escape to the mountains," exclaimed Giorgias, as he dismounted from his weary war-horse, when the first bar of golden light appeared in the orient sky.
"Then they have left marks of their handiwork behind them," said a horseman, pointing in the direction in which lay what had been the camp of Nicanor, now suddenly visible to the Syrians from the summit of the hill. "See you yon smoke arising from smouldering heaps? There has been a battle at Emmaus. The lion has broken through the toils. Maccabeus has not been sleeping through the night."
"Nay, my Lord Pollux; it is impossible. The Hebrews would never dare to attack a force so greatly outnumbering their own," exclaimed Giorgias, unwilling to believe the evidence of his own senses. But as the light more clearly revealed the tokens of flight and disaster in the far distance, where the smoke of ruin was rising into the calm morning air, conviction of the terrible truth forced itself on the general's mind, and, with mingled astonishment and dismay, he exclaimed, "Where are the hosts of Nicanor?"
"Yonder are those who can give an account of them," said Pollux, turning to the south, where in a valley the Hebrews might be seen marshalled around their loader. "There, I ween, is the insolent outlaw who has been making a shambles of our camp. See you the glitter of the spears? Maccabeus is setting his men in battle array. There is but a handful of them. Shall we charge down upon them, and sweep them from the face of the earth?"
Giorgias glanced again northward at Emmaus and the smoking ruins of the Syrian camp; then southward, where the little compact force in the valley was clustering round the standard of Maccabeus. Though the troops under the command of Giorgias doubled the Hebrews in number, he dared not try the issue of battle with those who had so lately discomfited Nicanor's formidable hosts. Had the Syrian leader been animated by such a fearless spirit as characterized his opponent, in all human probability the victory of the night might have been, to Judas and his gallant little band, succeeded by the defeat of the morning. But Giorgias showed an unusual amount of caution on the present occasion; and Pollux, though he assumed a tone of defiance, was secretly by no means desirous to measure swords with Maccabeus.
The Hebrews were weary with conquering and pursuing. Their spirit was unbroken, but their strength was exhausted. It was with some anxiety that the eagle eye of Judas watched the movements of the enemy on the heights, momentarily expecting an attack which he knew that his band of heroes was so little able to sustain.
"They will be down upon us soon," said Simon, as he leaned wearily on his spear.
"Nay; behold, they are vanishing over the crest of the mountain!" triumphantly exclaimed Eleazar. "The cowards! only brave over the wine-bowl! Not a stain on their swords! not a dint on their shields! They are fleeing when no man pursues! Oh, that we had but strength to follow, and chase the dastards even up to the walls of Jerusalem!"
"God hath put fear into their hearts. To Him be the glory!" said Maccabeus, as he sheathed his heavy sword.
And after this--to transcribe the words of the ancient Hebrew historian, describing the triumphs of his countrymen--"they went home, and sung a song of thanksgiving, and praised the Lord in heaven, because He is good, because His mercy endureth for ever."
Night had just spread her veil of darkness over earth, and Simon, prudently reserving his strength for the expected fatigues of the coming day, had wrapped himself in his mantle, and stretched himself on the ground to snatch some hours of repose, when he was roused by the touch of a hand on his shoulder. Opening his eyes, Simon saw, by the red light of a torch, which the armour-bearer of Judas was holding aloft, that Maccabeus was before him.
"Awake, arise, my brother; this is no time for sleep," said the leader. Simon was on his feet in a moment, an attentive listener, as Maccabeus continued: "A scout has just brought in tidings from the Syrian camp that Nicanor has detached five thousand of his foot-soldiers and a thousand chosen horsemen, under the command of Giorgias, to attack us this night, and take us by surprise."
"They will find us prepared," said Simon, as he girded on his sword.
"Nay; they will find their prey flown," replied Maccabeus, his features relaxing into a stern smile; "we will fall on the Syrian camp in their absence, teach the enemy his own lesson, and transfer the surprise to our foes."
"Well thought of!" exclaimed Simon; "darkness also will serve to hide the weakness of our force."
"Our brethren are now marshalling our warriors," said Judas; "all, under God, depends upon silence, promptitude, decision. We fight for our lives and our laws."
The leader turned to depart, but as he did so accidentally dropped something on the ground. He stooped to raise and twist it rapidly round his left arm, under the sleeve. The incident was so very trifling that it scarcely drew the notice of Simon, though the thought did flit across his mind that it was strange that his brother, on the eve of battle, could pause to pick up anything so utterly valueless as a slight skein of unbleached flax. It was valueless indeed, save from the associations which, in the mind of him who wore it, were entwined with every thread. That flax had been once used to tie together some flowers long since dead; the flowers had been dropped into a grave of martyrs; the light skein had fallen on the upturned sod unnoticed save by the eyes of one. Perhaps it was from remembrance of the dead, or perhaps it was because hopes regarding the living (hopes brighter and sweeter than the flowers had been) seemed now bound up in that flaxen strand, that Maccabeus fastened that skein round his arm as a precious thing, when he would not have stooped to pick up a chaplet of pearls.
By the exertions of the five Asmonean brethren, the little Hebrew army was rapidly put under arms, and prepared for the night attack. The whole force was united as one forlorn hope. As moves the dark cloud in the sky, so darkly and silently moved on the band of heroes, and, like that cloud, they bore the thunderbolt with them.
Most of the Syrians on that eventful night were sunk in sleep, but not all; in their camp some kept up their revels till late. All the luxuries which fancy could devise or wealth could purchase were gathered together at Emmaus to hide the grim front of war, so that the camp by daylight presented the motley appearance of a bazaar with the gay magnificence of a court. There sherbet sparkled in vases of silver, and the red wine was poured into golden cups, chased and embossed, in tents stretched out with silken cords. Garments bright with all the varied tints of the rainbow, rich productions of Oriental looms, robes from Tyre, shawls from Cashmere, blended with instruments of warfare, swords, spears, and bucklers, the battle-axe and the helmet. The sentry, pacing his rounds, paused to listen to wild bursts of merriment, the loud oath and light song from some gay pavilion, where young Syrian nobles were exchanging jests, and indulging in deep carousals. Yonder, in the glaring torch-light, sat a group of officers, engaged in some game of chance, and their stakes were the captives whom they were to drag at their chariot-wheels on the morrow. Each throw of the dice decided the fate of a Hebrew; at least, so deemed the merry gamesters.
But the destined slaves were coming to the market sooner than their expectant masters dreamed or desired, and the price for each Hebrew would be exacted, not in gold, but in blood. Suddenly the gamesters at their play, the revellers at the board, the slumberers on their couches, were startled by the blare of trumpets and a ringing war-cry, "The sword of the Lord and Maccabeus!" The full goblet was dashed from the lip, the dice from the hand; there were wild shouts and cries, and rushing to and fro, soldiers snatching up weapons, merchants flying hither and thither for safety, stumbling over tent-ropes in the darkness. There were confused noises of terror, trampling of feet, snorting of horses, calls to arms, clashing of weapons, with all the horrors of sudden panic spreading like an epidemic through the mighty host of Syria. The few remained to oppose the unseen assailants, the many took to flight; the ground was soon strewn with treasure, dropped by terrified fugitives, and weapons thrown down by warriors who had not the courage to use them. Tents were speedily blazing, and horses, terrified by the sudden glare and maddened by the scorching heat, prancing, plunging, rushing wildly through the camp, added to the fearful confusion. Maccabeus, with the sword of Apollonius in his hand, pressed on to victory over heaps of prostrate foes. Terror was sent as a herald before him, and success followed wherever he trode. It seemed as if the Lord of Hosts were fighting for Israel, as in the old days of Gideon.
Hot was the pursuit after the flying Syrians; Maccabeus and his warriors followed hard on their track to Gazora, Azotus, and Jamnia, and that southern part of Judaea lying between the Red Sea and Sodom, to which, from its having been colonized by Edomites, had been given the name of Idumea. For many a mile the track of the fugitives was marked by their dead.
But as the morning dawned after that terrible though glorious night, the trumpets of Maccabeus sounded to call his troops together. The leader had not forgotten--though some of his eager followers might have done so--that Giorgias, with an army of chosen warriors, doubling their own in number, and comparatively fresh, was yet to be encountered. With stern displeasure Maccabeus saw his own men, grim with blood and dust, loading themselves with the rich plunder which lay on the road; like fruit under orchard trees after a wild tornado.
"Be not greedy of the spoils," cried the leader, "inasmuch as there is a battle before us; but stand ye now against our enemies, and overcome them, and after this ye may boldly take the spoils."
It is a more difficult task to call hounds off the prey that they have run down, than to let them slip from the leashes when the quarry first is in sight. It needed such moral influence over his men as was possessed by Maccabeus to enforce instant obedience when wealth was at their feet, and needed but the gathering up.
It was speedily seen, however, that the warning of the Asmonean chief had not been unnecessary. But a few minutes elapsed after the utterance of that warning, when the vanguard of the forces of Giorgias appeared on the crest of a hill at some distance, the live-long night having been spent by them in a vain attempt to discover the camp of the Hebrews. After a long, tedious march, Giorgias found himself on a commanding height, from whence at dawn he had an extensive view of the surrounding country.
"The slaves have fled--they have made their escape to the mountains," exclaimed Giorgias, as he dismounted from his weary war-horse, when the first bar of golden light appeared in the orient sky.
"Then they have left marks of their handiwork behind them," said a horseman, pointing in the direction in which lay what had been the camp of Nicanor, now suddenly visible to the Syrians from the summit of the hill. "See you yon smoke arising from smouldering heaps? There has been a battle at Emmaus. The lion has broken through the toils. Maccabeus has not been sleeping through the night."
"Nay, my Lord Pollux; it is impossible. The Hebrews would never dare to attack a force so greatly outnumbering their own," exclaimed Giorgias, unwilling to believe the evidence of his own senses. But as the light more clearly revealed the tokens of flight and disaster in the far distance, where the smoke of ruin was rising into the calm morning air, conviction of the terrible truth forced itself on the general's mind, and, with mingled astonishment and dismay, he exclaimed, "Where are the hosts of Nicanor?"
"Yonder are those who can give an account of them," said Pollux, turning to the south, where in a valley the Hebrews might be seen marshalled around their loader. "There, I ween, is the insolent outlaw who has been making a shambles of our camp. See you the glitter of the spears? Maccabeus is setting his men in battle array. There is but a handful of them. Shall we charge down upon them, and sweep them from the face of the earth?"
Giorgias glanced again northward at Emmaus and the smoking ruins of the Syrian camp; then southward, where the little compact force in the valley was clustering round the standard of Maccabeus. Though the troops under the command of Giorgias doubled the Hebrews in number, he dared not try the issue of battle with those who had so lately discomfited Nicanor's formidable hosts. Had the Syrian leader been animated by such a fearless spirit as characterized his opponent, in all human probability the victory of the night might have been, to Judas and his gallant little band, succeeded by the defeat of the morning. But Giorgias showed an unusual amount of caution on the present occasion; and Pollux, though he assumed a tone of defiance, was secretly by no means desirous to measure swords with Maccabeus.
The Hebrews were weary with conquering and pursuing. Their spirit was unbroken, but their strength was exhausted. It was with some anxiety that the eagle eye of Judas watched the movements of the enemy on the heights, momentarily expecting an attack which he knew that his band of heroes was so little able to sustain.
"They will be down upon us soon," said Simon, as he leaned wearily on his spear.
"Nay; behold, they are vanishing over the crest of the mountain!" triumphantly exclaimed Eleazar. "The cowards! only brave over the wine-bowl! Not a stain on their swords! not a dint on their shields! They are fleeing when no man pursues! Oh, that we had but strength to follow, and chase the dastards even up to the walls of Jerusalem!"
"God hath put fear into their hearts. To Him be the glory!" said Maccabeus, as he sheathed his heavy sword.
And after this--to transcribe the words of the ancient Hebrew historian, describing the triumphs of his countrymen--"they went home, and sung a song of thanksgiving, and praised the Lord in heaven, because He is good, because His mercy endureth for ever."
Sunday, November 6, 2011
Chapter 15 The Two Camps
While the scenes lately described had been occurring in the neighbourhood of Jerusalem, Maccabeus, in the mountains, had been preparing for the deadliest shock of war. Like wave upon wave, each swelling higher than the one before it, successive armies hurled their strength against the devoted band that held aloft the banner of the truth, as a beacon-light gleaming on high amidst the fiercest fury of the tempest. The mighty Nicanor, son of Patroclus, a man honoured with the king's peculiar favour, had gathered together a powerful force "to root out the whole generation of the Jews," and with him was joined in command Georgias, a general of great experience in war.
A large camp was formed by the Syrians at Emmaus, about a Sabbath-day's journey from Jerusalem. The hills were darkened with their goats'-hair tents, the roads thronged with soldiers, and with a multitude of merchants who brought much silver and gold to purchase Hebrew captives as slaves for their markets. For so confident of victory was Nicanor, that he had beforehand proclaimed a sale of the prisoners whom he would reserve from slaughter; nay, had fixed the very price which he would demand for his vanquished foes! Ninety of the Hebrew warriors should be sold for a talent, so ran Nicanor's proclamation.
"These bold outlaws," said the haughty Syrian, "shall spend their superfluous strength, as did their Samson of old, in grinding corn for their victors, or in tilling the fields which they once called their own, with the taskmaster's lash to quicken their labours. Ha! ha! it were good subject for mirth to see the lordly Maccabeus himself, with blinded eyes, turning the wheel at the well, and bending his proud back to serve as my footstool when I mount my Arab steed! This were sweeter vengeance, a richer triumph, than to hew him to pieces with the sword which he took from the dead Apollonius. Let the Asmonean fall into my hands, and he shall taste what it is to endure a living death!"
Maccabeus, on his part, had led his forces to Mizpeh, where they had encamped. Here a day of solemn humiliation was appointed by the Asmonean chief; he and his warriors fasted, put on sackcloth, and united in prayer to the God of Hosts.
The leader then more perfectly organized his little army, dividing it into bands, and appointing captains over the divisions. While Divine aid was implored, human means were not neglected.
Early in the morning of the succeeding day, Maccabeus and Simon, his elder brother, held grave consultation together. The scene around them was historic; the very heap of stones upon which the chiefs were seated marked the spot where the last leave of Laban had been taken by Jacob their forefather, when returning to his aged parent.
But few months have elapsed since Judas stood, as the reader first saw him, by the grave of the martyrs, but these eventful months have wrought a marked change upon the Asmonean leader. Fatigue, hardship, the burden of care, the weight of responsibility, added to the sorrow of bereavement, have left their stamps on his expressive features. Maccabeus looks a worn and a weary man; but there is increased majesty in his demeanour, that dignity which has nothing to do with pride; for pride has its origin in self-consciousness, true dignity in forgetfulness of self.
"This will be our sharpest conflict; the enemy is strong," observed Simon, glancing in the direction of the Syrian hosts, which lay between them and Jerusalem.
"With the God of Heaven it is all one to deliver with a great multitude or with a few," said Maccabeus.
"What is the number of our forces?" asked Simon.
"Six thousand, as given by yesterday's returns," was the reply; "but to-day I will make proclamation that they who are planting vineyards or building houses, or who have lately married wives, have full leave to retire if they will it, and then--ha! Eleazar returned already!" cried the leader, interrupting himself, as a young Hebrew, dressed as a Syrian merchant, with rapid step ascended the little eminence on which the Asmonean brothers were seated.
"I have been in the midst of them!" exclaimed Eleazar; "ay, I have stood in their tents, heard their songs, listened to their proud boastings, been present when the sons of Mammon bartered for the limbs and lives of the free-born sons of Abraham! They may have our bodies as corpses," added the young Asmonean, with a proud smile, "but never as slaves; and even as corpses, they shall purchase us dearly."
"Know you the numbers of the Syrians?" inquired Simon, whose quiet, sedate manner formed a strong contrast to that of the fiery young Eleazar.
"Nicanor has forty thousand footmen and seven thousand horse," was the reply; "to say nothing of those who hang round his camp, as vultures who scent the carnage from afar."
"More than seven to one," observed Simon, slightly shaking his head.
"Hebrews have encountered worse odds than that," cried the young man.
"Ay, when all were stanch," his elder brother rejoined.
"Do you then doubt our men!" exclaimed Eleazar.
"Many of them will be faithful unto death; but I know that in some quarters there are misgivings--I may call them fears," was the grave reply of Simon. "Not all our troops are tried warriors; some in the camp have spoken of submission."
"Submission!" cried Eleazar, clenching his hand; "I would lash the slaves up to the conflict as I would lash dogs that hung back in the chase."
"On the contrary," said Maccabeus, who had hitherto listened to the conversation in silence, "I shall proclaim that whoso is fearful, has my free permission to depart from us in peace."
"Were that well?" asked Simon, doubtfully, "we are already so greatly outnumbered by the foe."
"It is according to the law," replied Judas, calmly; "it is what Gideon did before encountering Midian. We can have no man with us who is half-hearted; no one who will count his life dear in the struggle which is before us."
"If we are to fall in the struggle," observed Simon, "half our number will indeed suffice for the sacrifice." He spoke without fear, but in the tone of one who felt the full extent of the threatening danger.
"See you yon stone, my brother?" asked Maccabeus, pointing to a pillar on the way to Shen, which was clearly visible against the background of the deep blue sky. "Yonder is Ebenezer, the stone of help, which Samuel set up in remembrance of victory over the Philistines, when God thundered from heaven, and discomfited the foes of Israel."
"Ay, I see it," replied Simon; "and I see the power and faithfulness of the Lord of Hosts written on that stone. We are in His hand, not in that of Nicanor."
"Let God arise, and let His enemies be scattered!" exclaimed Eleazar.
"My brother, give order that the trumpets be sounded," said Maccabeus, "and let our proclamation be known through the camp--that all who fear may retire at once, nor remain to shame us by turning their backs in the day of battle."
The commands of the leader were at once obeyed; the proclamation was issued, and its alarming effects were speedily seen. The small force of Maccabeus began to melt like a snow-wreath under the beams of the sun. One man remembered the tears of his newly-wedded bride, another the helpless state of a widowed mother; the hearts of not a few were set on their flocks and herds, while many of their comrades found in the state of crops needing the sickle, an excuse to cover the fear which they would have blushed to own as their motive for deserting the cause of their country. Long before the evening had closed in, the forces under Maccabeus had been reduced to one-half their number.
"They have judged themselves unworthy to share the glory that awaits their brave brethren," cried the indignant Eleazar, as, leaning on his unstrung bow, he watched a long line of fugitives wending their way towards the west.
Undismayed, though perhaps somewhat discouraged by the defection of half his troops, Maccabeus made before sunset a brief address to those who remained. "Arm yourselves," he said, "and be valiant men; and see that ye be in readiness before the morning, that ye may fight with these nations that are assembled together to destroy us and our sanctuary. For it is better for us to die in battle than to behold the calamity of our people and our sanctuary. Nevertheless, as the will of God is in heaven, so let Him do."
So, with stern resolution to conquer or die, the Hebrews retired to their appointed places in the small camp till morning light should arouse them to the desperate conflict.
A large camp was formed by the Syrians at Emmaus, about a Sabbath-day's journey from Jerusalem. The hills were darkened with their goats'-hair tents, the roads thronged with soldiers, and with a multitude of merchants who brought much silver and gold to purchase Hebrew captives as slaves for their markets. For so confident of victory was Nicanor, that he had beforehand proclaimed a sale of the prisoners whom he would reserve from slaughter; nay, had fixed the very price which he would demand for his vanquished foes! Ninety of the Hebrew warriors should be sold for a talent, so ran Nicanor's proclamation.
"These bold outlaws," said the haughty Syrian, "shall spend their superfluous strength, as did their Samson of old, in grinding corn for their victors, or in tilling the fields which they once called their own, with the taskmaster's lash to quicken their labours. Ha! ha! it were good subject for mirth to see the lordly Maccabeus himself, with blinded eyes, turning the wheel at the well, and bending his proud back to serve as my footstool when I mount my Arab steed! This were sweeter vengeance, a richer triumph, than to hew him to pieces with the sword which he took from the dead Apollonius. Let the Asmonean fall into my hands, and he shall taste what it is to endure a living death!"
Maccabeus, on his part, had led his forces to Mizpeh, where they had encamped. Here a day of solemn humiliation was appointed by the Asmonean chief; he and his warriors fasted, put on sackcloth, and united in prayer to the God of Hosts.
The leader then more perfectly organized his little army, dividing it into bands, and appointing captains over the divisions. While Divine aid was implored, human means were not neglected.
Early in the morning of the succeeding day, Maccabeus and Simon, his elder brother, held grave consultation together. The scene around them was historic; the very heap of stones upon which the chiefs were seated marked the spot where the last leave of Laban had been taken by Jacob their forefather, when returning to his aged parent.
But few months have elapsed since Judas stood, as the reader first saw him, by the grave of the martyrs, but these eventful months have wrought a marked change upon the Asmonean leader. Fatigue, hardship, the burden of care, the weight of responsibility, added to the sorrow of bereavement, have left their stamps on his expressive features. Maccabeus looks a worn and a weary man; but there is increased majesty in his demeanour, that dignity which has nothing to do with pride; for pride has its origin in self-consciousness, true dignity in forgetfulness of self.
"This will be our sharpest conflict; the enemy is strong," observed Simon, glancing in the direction of the Syrian hosts, which lay between them and Jerusalem.
"With the God of Heaven it is all one to deliver with a great multitude or with a few," said Maccabeus.
"What is the number of our forces?" asked Simon.
"Six thousand, as given by yesterday's returns," was the reply; "but to-day I will make proclamation that they who are planting vineyards or building houses, or who have lately married wives, have full leave to retire if they will it, and then--ha! Eleazar returned already!" cried the leader, interrupting himself, as a young Hebrew, dressed as a Syrian merchant, with rapid step ascended the little eminence on which the Asmonean brothers were seated.
"I have been in the midst of them!" exclaimed Eleazar; "ay, I have stood in their tents, heard their songs, listened to their proud boastings, been present when the sons of Mammon bartered for the limbs and lives of the free-born sons of Abraham! They may have our bodies as corpses," added the young Asmonean, with a proud smile, "but never as slaves; and even as corpses, they shall purchase us dearly."
"Know you the numbers of the Syrians?" inquired Simon, whose quiet, sedate manner formed a strong contrast to that of the fiery young Eleazar.
"Nicanor has forty thousand footmen and seven thousand horse," was the reply; "to say nothing of those who hang round his camp, as vultures who scent the carnage from afar."
"More than seven to one," observed Simon, slightly shaking his head.
"Hebrews have encountered worse odds than that," cried the young man.
"Ay, when all were stanch," his elder brother rejoined.
"Do you then doubt our men!" exclaimed Eleazar.
"Many of them will be faithful unto death; but I know that in some quarters there are misgivings--I may call them fears," was the grave reply of Simon. "Not all our troops are tried warriors; some in the camp have spoken of submission."
"Submission!" cried Eleazar, clenching his hand; "I would lash the slaves up to the conflict as I would lash dogs that hung back in the chase."
"On the contrary," said Maccabeus, who had hitherto listened to the conversation in silence, "I shall proclaim that whoso is fearful, has my free permission to depart from us in peace."
"Were that well?" asked Simon, doubtfully, "we are already so greatly outnumbered by the foe."
"It is according to the law," replied Judas, calmly; "it is what Gideon did before encountering Midian. We can have no man with us who is half-hearted; no one who will count his life dear in the struggle which is before us."
"If we are to fall in the struggle," observed Simon, "half our number will indeed suffice for the sacrifice." He spoke without fear, but in the tone of one who felt the full extent of the threatening danger.
"See you yon stone, my brother?" asked Maccabeus, pointing to a pillar on the way to Shen, which was clearly visible against the background of the deep blue sky. "Yonder is Ebenezer, the stone of help, which Samuel set up in remembrance of victory over the Philistines, when God thundered from heaven, and discomfited the foes of Israel."
"Ay, I see it," replied Simon; "and I see the power and faithfulness of the Lord of Hosts written on that stone. We are in His hand, not in that of Nicanor."
"Let God arise, and let His enemies be scattered!" exclaimed Eleazar.
"My brother, give order that the trumpets be sounded," said Maccabeus, "and let our proclamation be known through the camp--that all who fear may retire at once, nor remain to shame us by turning their backs in the day of battle."
The commands of the leader were at once obeyed; the proclamation was issued, and its alarming effects were speedily seen. The small force of Maccabeus began to melt like a snow-wreath under the beams of the sun. One man remembered the tears of his newly-wedded bride, another the helpless state of a widowed mother; the hearts of not a few were set on their flocks and herds, while many of their comrades found in the state of crops needing the sickle, an excuse to cover the fear which they would have blushed to own as their motive for deserting the cause of their country. Long before the evening had closed in, the forces under Maccabeus had been reduced to one-half their number.
"They have judged themselves unworthy to share the glory that awaits their brave brethren," cried the indignant Eleazar, as, leaning on his unstrung bow, he watched a long line of fugitives wending their way towards the west.
Undismayed, though perhaps somewhat discouraged by the defection of half his troops, Maccabeus made before sunset a brief address to those who remained. "Arm yourselves," he said, "and be valiant men; and see that ye be in readiness before the morning, that ye may fight with these nations that are assembled together to destroy us and our sanctuary. For it is better for us to die in battle than to behold the calamity of our people and our sanctuary. Nevertheless, as the will of God is in heaven, so let Him do."
So, with stern resolution to conquer or die, the Hebrews retired to their appointed places in the small camp till morning light should arouse them to the desperate conflict.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)