Cover
Florence Morse Kingsley
STEPHEN
A SOLDIER OF THE CROSS
By
FLORENCE MORSE KINGSLEY
Author of Titus
TORONTO:
WILLIAM BRIGGS, WESLEY BUILDINGS.
C. W. COATES, MONTREAL, QUE.
S. F. HUESTIS, HALIFAX, N.S.
Entered according to Act of the Parliament of Canada, in the year one thousand eight hundred and ninety-six, by WILLIAM BRIGGS, at the Department of Agriculture.
PREFACE.
There are those who have asked me to write this book. There may be others who shall question me because I have written it. "Assuredly," these will cry out, "it is justly forbidden to ascribe words and deeds of one's own devising to them which have been set forever apart in the pages of the Book of books. The pen of inspiration has written of Stephen all that God wills us to know of him, therefore let us be content."
It is true that the story of Stephen is little known; scarcely for a single day does the light shine clearly upon him, and that day the last of his mortal life. A tale is told of ancient alchemists, how that they possessed the power of resurrecting from the ashes of a perished flower a dim ghost of the flower itself. In like manner, may not one gather the fragrant dust of this vanished life from out the writings and legends of past ages, and from it build anew some faint image of its forgotten beauty?
Surely in these days, when the imagination hurries to and fro on the earth, delving amid all that is low and evil and noisome for some new panacea wherewith to deaden, if only for a moment, the feverish pain in the hearts of men, it were a good thing to lift up the eyes of the soul to the contemplation of those days when the memory of the living Jesus was yet fresh in the hearts of His followers; when His voice still echoed in their ears; when the glory of the cloud which had received Him out of their sight lingered with transfiguring splendor on all the commonplace happenings of their daily lives; when the words, "Lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end," meant a living presence all comforting, all powerful.
We are wont to look longingly back through the dark mists of the ages and sigh, "Oh, that I had known Him as they knew Him! But in these hard, grey days there is no glory that shines, no voice that speaks, no ecstatic vision of the Son of Man standing at the right hand of power."
Yet had we lived in those days the life which many of us live to-day, going to church and to prayer because such attendance is a Christian duty; giving of our abundance to the poor because our neighbors will marvel if we withhold; and for the rest, living as those before the flood, and since also--eating and drinking, and making such poor merriment as we are able in a life which was given us for another purpose--had we lived thus in those far-off days, would the Pentecostal flames have descended upon us? Could the crucified One have said unto us, "Lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end?" Would we not rather have cried out in terror and fled away from the light of those sad eyes into darkness, even as did Peter after that he had denied with curses.
There is an Apostolic Church in the world to-day. To-day Christ is on earth and walks with men. To-day the Spirit works mightily as of old; the blind see, the deaf hear, and the dead are raised up. But it is not alone in splendid temple, nor amid the solemn pomp of churchly magnificence that these things are being accomplished, but in the humble upper rooms where the good soldiers of the Salvation Army, and the workers in Rescue Missions, labor unceasingly for them that are lost.
In these places, and in the silence of repentant hearts also, one may yet touch the borders of that seamless robe; and lo, every one that touches is made whole.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER
- [The Blind Singer]
- [Good Tidings out of the Desert]
- [At the Palace of the High Priest]
- [In Place of Judas]
- [In the Abode of Kings]
- [The Lord of the South-Land]
- [The Pharisee from Tarsus]
- [A Believer in the Nazarene]
- [In the Desert Encampment]
- [The White Dromedary]
- [At the Gate Beautiful]
- [In the Council Chamber]
- [At the Feet of the Apostles]
- [A Cup of Cold Water]
- [In Pursuit of the Fugitives]
- [A Roll of Parchment]
- [In the Prison House]
- ["Whose we Are and Whom we Serve"]
- [In the Shadow of the Wall]
- [Without the Jaffa Gate]
- ["Not a Sparrow Falleth"]
- [By the Thorny Ways of His Sin]
- [In the Synagogue of the Nazarenes]
- [The Warning]
- [The Wrath of Man]
- [Until the Day Break]
- [In the Valley of the Shadow]
- [The Lifted Veil]
- [The Watchful Love]
- [A Flask of Crystal]
- [A Scarlet Thread]
- [Ben Hesed in Jerusalem]
- [The Mercy of Israel]
- [At the Third Hour]
- [On the Road to Damascus]
- [The Amulet]
CHAPTER I.
THE BLIND SINGER.
"Bounteous Nile! Father of all living! Garlanded with lotus blooms, rosy as Horus!"
As these words rang out over the rocky hillside in a clear sweet voice, two men who were climbing the steep declivity paused a moment and looked at each other.
"That is the voice," said one of them in a tone of deep satisfaction. "A voice of gold truly, if only breathed forth into royal ears."
"There are two of them," said his companion, wiping his hot face. "The other is a boy, a water-carrier.'
"Good! He also will bring a fair price. Valuable property both, and going to waste like water spilled in the desert. Why buy slaves for gold, when they grow wild in the desert?" And the speaker laughed under his breath.
"Thou art a favorite of the gods," said the other with a venomous gleam in his narrow black eyes. "In thy heaven-bestowed wisdom forget not that it was I who came upon the two nesting in a corner of yonder old tomb like a pair of swallows."
"Thou shalt have the boy."
"And who gave thee leave to say, friend?"
"Canst thou sell them then? Is it of thee that the princess will buy slaves? Half the price of the two shall be thine; if that pleaseth thee not, why then----"
"Look at me! I am thy sister that loveth thee,
Do not stay far from me, heavenly one!
Come to thine abode with haste, with haste
I see thee no more. I see thee no more--"
trilled the unseen singer.
"Ha! The song of Isis! The little one is religious," continued the speaker, who had stopped in the midst of his bargaining. "Come! What sayest thou?" he added persuasively. "Half the price--and it will be a good one--no one can do better in such a matter than----"
"No one better than Besa," interrupted the other rudely. "Be it so; but lie to me about the price and thou shalt regret it."
The two had reached the top of the hill by this time.
"Hist! Do not let her see thee."
"Nay, rather, do not let her hear thee; she is blind."
"Blind?"
"Ay! Stone blind; but what matters it when she carries a singing bird in her throat. Do they not blind the nightingale?"
Both men now advanced cautiously, their sandaled feet making little sound on the shelf-like plateau upon which yawned several recesses cut deep into the solid rock. In the door of one of these recesses sat, or rather crouched, the figure of a young girl. Her blue-black hair, gathered away from her forehead and plaited in several thick braids, revealed a thin face, delicately featured, the smooth brown cheeks faintly flushed with a warmth, which in the drooping mouth deepened to scarlet. Her eyes were large and black, but curiously expressionless, like the eyes of the great god Ptah in the temple below. For the rest, she was dressed in the shapeless blue linen robe of an Egyptian peasant woman, about her neck hung a string of shining coins, and upon the slender ankles tinkled hoops of wrought silver.
At the sound of the stealthy feet upon the rock, the blind girl bent her head anxiously.
"Is it you, Seth?" she said doubtfully.
"Nay, little one," said one of the men, advancing boldly, "it is only a wayfarer who heard a goddess chanting to herself in a nook of the mountain. Didst thou also hear it?"
The girl shrank back into the narrow recess, upon whose rocky walls was pictured gaudily the long-since-ended career of its former occupant. She made no reply.
"This dismal spirit-haunted tomb is no place for thee," continued the speaker in honeyed tones, "for it is thou and no other who hast the voice of Isis herself. Thou shouldst sing in the abode of princes, and be crowned with perfumed garlands, and all this shall shortly happen if thou wilt but come with me. Listen!" he added imperatively in the Greek tongue, addressing his companion. "I will take the girl with me, her pretty face adds to her value by half, the blindness is no matter. But do thou wait for the boy and bring him to the city, to the place whereof thou knowest. To-morrow they shall both be sold."
He was standing as he spoke perilously near the edge of the rocky declivity up which he had just clambered, his black snaky eyes fixed upon the maiden, his hand already extended to grasp her, when with the lithe swiftness of a tigress she sprang to her feet, and with a sudden powerful push of her strong young arms sent the unfortunate man flying backward over the verge. Then with a loud scream she turned, and, eluding the outstretched arms of the other, fled away and disappeared in some hidden nook among the tombs. The man who remained behind stared after her a moment in silence, then he broke into a short sneering laugh.
"By the seven great gods! It appears that a nightingale is not easy to cage. And what then has become of our bargaining Besa? By Anubis! I care not if he be dead."
Peering over the edge of the precipice he presently descried a motionless mass of dingy red drapery, lodged against the side of a great boulder, and thither, grumbling morosely to himself, he slowly and deliberately made his way.
In the meantime the young girl was cowering breathless in a narrow crevice of the rocks; she listened intensely, her hands upon her heart, as though she feared that its loud beating might betray her hiding-place. But after a few moments the silence reassured her and she began to weep and moan softly to herself.
"O Isis, tender-hearted one, what is it that hath befallen me? O God of the Sun in thy shining chariot! why dost thou not smite such wickedness? What then if I have killed him. Nay, I care not! It is just."
"Anat! Anat!" shouted a voice. "Where art thou?"
"Ah! it is Seth," said the girl, rising to her feet. "Hist! Here am I."
"Why art thou here?" said the newcomer anxiously. "What hath happened?"
By way of answer the girl burst into a passion of sobbing, rocking herself to and fro and tearing at her black braids. The lad stared at her in amazement and fear, then hastily casting aside the skin water-bottle with its tinkling brass cups, which he carried upon his back, he knelt down by the convulsed little figure, and throwing one arm about it began to speak in low soothing tones.
"Anat, little sister, come, tell me what hath happened. Thou must indeed, little one. I should not have left thee alone; thou hast been frightened, is it not so?"
Thus encouraged the blind girl finally managed to tell her story, albeit in disjointed, half intelligible words.
"He heard thee singing, little one," said her brother, knitting his black brows angrily, "and would have carried thee away like a bird."
"Yes," said the girl fiercely. "But that is not all, he said that to-morrow we should both be sold; yet it may be that he will not care for buying and selling on the morrow. I know not how I could have done it, but of a sudden I felt a great strength come upon me. I pushed him over the ledge--I heard him fall--" and she caught her breath with a quick shudder.
"And thou didst well, little one!" said the boy. "It matters not what hath befallen him, the gods helped thee. But the other--there were two, saidst thou? He will return. We must get us away from here and at once."
"Where shall we go?" said Anat plaintively. "We are even as the birds that flee before the hunter, only to fall at last into his hand."
"Not so, little one; the pursued eaglets flee away into the desert. So also will we. I know of a secure resting-place, and thou shalt not again stay alone."
"Shall we go now?"
"Yes, now. When I shall have gathered together our possessions; but they be few, it will not take long."
The lad rose to his feet with a sigh, and looked out and away from their lofty eyrie. Far below them lay a floor of shining blue-green, the fertile plains of the Nile, shadowed here and there with groups of clustered palm trees. Through the midst of these plains rolled the sacred river, like a flood of gold. On either side of it rose the white walls and strange many-colored towers of the city of Memphis, all transfigured in the shining mist of the setting sun. And beyond trooped the grim procession of the pyramids, solemn sentinels on the borders of a desert which the Egyptians thought to be boundless, behind whose golden rim, they believed, lay the regions of the departed.
CHAPTER II.
GOOD TIDINGS OUT OF THE DESERT.
"I hear some one coming."
"How can that be, Anat? I see no one."
"It matters not, there is some one; I can hear the tinkle of the harness bells, it is from the desert they come."
"A caravan thinkest thou, little one?" said Seth, looking with an indulgent smile at the flushed face with its strange widely-opened dark eyes.
"Nay," said the girl after a pause, shaking her head decidedly; "there is but one--one on a swift dromedary."
"By Horus! thou art right, I see the man now, he is coming this way." And shaking his tinkling cups, the lad darted away to meet the traveler.
"Water! Fresh cool water, the gift of God to the thirsty!" he cried aloud. And the stranger, scorched by the withering breath of the desert, gladly dismounted and drank deep of the proffered cup.
"God grant thee peace, whoever thou art!" he said in a low deep voice, turning his piercing eyes upon the boy. "How doth it chance that thou art here in the desert? Surely not many come this way. Why art thou not rather plying thy trade in yonder city?" He felt in his wallet for a coin as he spoke.
The boy flushed deeply and hung his head without answering.
"It is a happy chance for me that thou hadst the desert traveler in thy thought," continued the stranger with a smile of singular sweetness, "for I could no longer abide the brackish water of the march, and was pushing ahead of the caravan with all possible speed for a draught from a certain cool fountain that I know not far from here."
"The fountain of Kera?" said the boy, looking up.
"Even so, and it is of that I have just drunken? Ay, I thought so, though it is many moons since I have tasted it." Stroking his long beard thoughtfully, the stranger continued, "I shall wait here now till the others come up, it will not be long. Who sits yonder in the shadow of the rock?"
"My sister," replied the lad briefly. "She is blind," he added, moved by a sudden impulse.
"Blind? Ah, the pity of it, the pity of it!" said the man, passing his hand swiftly across his eyes. "Would to God"--then he broke off suddenly and commanded his dromedary to lie down; the beast obeyed, moaning and shaking his head. "He also smells water, yet hath he drunken his fill yester eve. Be quiet, Neha! thou shalt again drink.--And the little one is blind?"
"Yes, but she hath wonderful hearing," said Seth proudly. "She heard the tinkle of thy harness bells before I saw thee."
"Yes, yes! I know, no one better, it was once so with me, but seeing is also good. Thanks be to the Wonderful, the Prophet of Israel, I know that now!"
The lad looked at the man in puzzled silence. They had now approached the great rock, in the shadow of which the blind girl was sitting.
"Greetings to thee, little one!" said the stranger, sitting down in the sand near the child and looking earnestly into her dark sightless eyes.
"Who is it that is speaking to me?"
"Do not fear, Anat, I am here," said Seth, quietly possessing himself of one of the slender brown hands.
"I am not afraid; the voice is good."
"Where dwellest thou?" continued the stranger.
"We are even as the wild goats of the desert," said the boy bitterly, "wandering among the rocks by day, and at night sleeping where the night overtakes us."
"Surely thou art not alone in the world," urged the stranger, "thy parents, where are they?"
"The Nile hath risen seven times now since they passed into the regions of the dead," said Anat, raising her drooping head. "Many passed with them by reason of a great sickness. I also was stricken, and afterward mine eyes were darkened, not suddenly, but slowly even as the evening deepens into the black night. It is always night now."
"Ah, yes!" said the stranger sighing, "a night wherein one hath strange dreams, and where fear standeth by the pillow of sleep, and walks always at the right hand in the waking hours."
"And thou alone carest for the little one?" he continued, fixing his keen eyes upon the boy.
"I alone," said the boy proudly. "We dwelt among yonder hills, and I plied my trade in the city below, but--" here he checked himself suddenly, and looked suspiciously at his questioner. "Wilt thou not break thy fast?" he said at length. "Thou art our guest."
The stranger bowed his head gravely, laying his hand upon his breast as he did so. He understood.
Then Seth made haste and fetched from a neighboring crevice in the rock dates and parched corn together with a gourd of water. Their guest ate of the food, the lad also and the maiden.
"I was blind," said the stranger at length rising, "and I was healed of my blindness by the great prophet of Israel. They call him Jesus."
"Where dwells he?"
"In Jerusalem, far away beyond the wilderness," and he pointed towards the desert from which he had just come.
"Dost thou return thither?"
"Not many days hence, when I shall have sold my goods and loaded my camels. I shall not forget thy hospitality; when I again pass this way fetch me water, my son, and hear what I shall say to thee. Maiden, I salute thee! Farewell." And he sprang upon his beast and was gone in a swift cloud of dust toward the slow-moving caravan, which crawled like a snake over the yellow wastes of the desert.
Seth did not run with his water-bottles and his tinkling cups to meet them, as was his wont. He sat silent in the shadow of the great rock, thinking.
Anat also was silent for a time, then she said timidly: "I would that I too might see the man of blessing, he who dwells beyond the wilderness and hath power to restore sight to the blind. There is no one in the land of Egypt who can do the like."
"We have no treasure to give him; would he not say to us, 'Where then is thy gold, or thy precious stones, or thy beasts of burden, before I shall do this thing for thee?' Thou knowest not the ways of magicians; I know, for I have heard, yet is there no magician in all Egypt who can cure blindness."
Anat sighed. "I have my mother's necklace," she said at length, laying her hand upon the string of coins about her neck. "Some of them are of gold and very heavy." Then she caught her breath with a half sob. "The men--yesterday--they would have sold us. I--yes, I would be a slave if only I might see!"
"I will be a slave, and thou shalt have thine eyes together with thy freedom," cried Seth, starting to his feet. "I will say to the man, give thou sight to these eyes and I am thy bondman from henceforth and forever. I will serve thee with my heart's blood."
"I also will serve him, for I will not leave thee, my brother; but how shall we pass the wilderness?"
"There are many caravans passing through," said the lad, looking with troubled eyes into the distance, "but the way is long and we have no beast."
"The stranger who ate of our bread, will he not take us to that far country?"
"It may be----" began Seth, then he stopped suddenly--Anat had grasped his arm convulsively, her face pallid to the lips.
"The voices!" she gasped. "I hear them, they will sell us into bondage! Let us hide, quick!"
Without a word the lad hurried her into a narrow cleft in the rocks not far distant. Here, tugging with all his strength at a broad stone which was half buried in the drifting sand, he at length succeeded in pulling it aside. The opening disclosed a flight of steps cut in the solid rock, winding down into impenetrable darkness. From the depths there ascended a stifling odor of resin and spices.
The girl drew back gasping, "Not here!" she said faintly. "I am afraid; I cannot go further, it is the breath of the dead."
The lad hesitated an instant; he too heard the sound of voices and the tinkling of harness bells. "Listen," he whispered, "I know not the voices, but thou knowest."
"Yes, yes! it is the voice; I will go anywhere to escape."
The tinkling sound and the slow steps of the beasts of burden became momently louder, together with the harsh tones of a human voice.
"'Tis a fool's errand, Besa; thou hast lost what little wit the gods gave thee in thy tumble of yesterday. By Sechet! I have not yet done laughing to think of the way the little hell-witch served thee!"
"Who could know that the beggar understood Greek!"
"Pooh! that is nothing; no one better than the beggars, they whine for every man's gold in his own tongue. Ha, ha! 'Thou shouldst have perfumed garlands,' saidst thou with tongue as smooth as Sesame oil; then I saw only a flying bundle of red cloth. Besa was gone. Ha, ha!"
"Why didst thou not seize her, fool?" snarled the other, grinding his teeth. "I will find her should I look a lifetime, if only to twist that little singing throat of hers."
"That shalt thou not do, friend; that singing throat is gold and it is mine. Come, we will go back; they are not here."
"What is this?" said Besa triumphantly, dismounting from his ass and holding up a brilliant bit of striped drapery; "this, or one like it, was on the girl's neck yesterday."
Amu, for so was the other man called, made no reply: he was looking fixedly into a narrow cleft of the rocks. Presently he too dismounted. "Some one has been here," he said, pointing to the fresh footmarks in the sand which had drifted deep into the opening.
CHAPTER III.
AT THE PALACE OF THE HIGH PRIEST.
"It is well that by the blessing of Jehovah thou hast recovered thy health, my son, for though we have accomplished the death of the blasphemer, there yet remains the rabble of his followers. With the trunk of the poisonous vine we must also thoroughly burn the branches lest they bud anew."
"Thou hast the tongue of wisdom," said Caiaphas in a tone of dull indifference, his eyes fixed vacantly on the range of blue hills at the verge of the horizon.
Annas glanced impatiently at the white worn face. "They are already spreading reports both in Jerusalem and in all Galilee that the man is alive again, that, forsooth, he has been seen of them. The temple resounds daily to the voice of their noisome praises and thanksgivings. I have counseled that they be thrust out," he continued frowning, "for what is it else than blasphemy--lies. It cannot be true!" And the speaker started to his feet, and began to pace up and down the terrace of the roof garden. "The Sanhedrim seems satisfied that nothing will come of it," he went on angrily. "'Let be,' say they, 'the thing will die even as the man.' Pah! they are blind. Look you! here are the facts. The man's body disappears on the third day after the crucifixion, the Roman guards tell a drunken tale of earthquake and the appearance of an angel with a sword; lies, all lies! That I have managed--gold worketh wonders; they know now that they were drunken, and that his disciples stole the body away while they slept. So far, well. Then there is the matter of the rent veil before the Holy of Holies; a sore mischance, the fabric had been eaten of insects, there is no question of it, how else should it----"
"Who saw the thing done?" interrupted Caiaphas in a hollow tone.
"A half score of priests who were preparing the altar for the evening sacrifice. It was rent with a loud noise, say they, and the Holiest place revealed on a sudden. I have counseled that they hold their peace; it may be that they also are apostate, but I dare not take the steps that I would in the matter because of the people. Of one thing I am certain, the man is dead; in that have we triumphed. I saw him die, and he is as assuredly perished as are the wretched malefactors that groaned that day on either side of his cross."
The face of Caiaphas blanched to the livid color of death. "Say no more," he gasped huskily, "I am not well."
Annas stared at him for an instant with something like contempt. "I will call a servant," he said at length. "Thou shouldst drink wine to strengthen thy heart."
"The man is strangely wrought upon by this thing," he thought within himself as he strode away. "He is like to a rope of sand; I must not look to him for help. Who is there then of stout heart and good courage? Issachar--Johanan--Alexander? they all be like wax which the sun hath melted. Stay! there is the young Saul of Tarsus, a Pharisee of the Pharisees, and zealous for the upbuilding of Israel; I will even dispatch a swift messenger for him. He will be an instrument of wrath in mine hand against the enemies of the Lord Jehovah."
As the sound of his footsteps died away, the sick man raised his head. "Begone!" he said with an irritable gesture to the servant who stood awaiting his pleasure. "Call my wife."
Even as he spoke, the heavy curtains which hung over the doorway near at hand, parted, and the figure of a woman emerged onto the terrace.
"Where hast thou been?" said the invalid, fixing his sunken eyes angrily upon her. "Dost thou not know that I cannot abide that clumsy hind, Barak. Where is my cordial?"
"Here, my lord," said Anna soothingly, pouring a few drops of some bright-colored liquid into a cup. Her slender hand trembled so violently as she did this that a portion of the contents was spilled, and lay a crimson pool between them on the white marble of the pavement.
The sick man shrank back among his pillows, his eyes starting from his head. "Ay! there it is again!" he muttered, huskily. "Blood, blood--the blood of the Nazarene! I shall always see it. Look!" he shrieked, "it is crawling towards me!"
The woman sprang forward, her face colorless. "It is nothing!" she said, breathlessly, "nothing, my lord! See! it is gone. Come, drink the cordial, after that thou shalt rest; thou art weary."
Caiaphas looked into the cup. "It is blood," he said, shudderingly, "yet must I drink it; God is just!" Then he lay back among his pillows once more, his eyes closed. After a time a faint color crept into his livid face.
The woman watched him patiently for a full hour, more than once her pale lips moving as if in prayer. From her dark eyes there seemed to stream forth a visible radiance of love which brooded in silent blessing over the helpless form at her side.
At length the sick man stirred a little, his eyes unclosed. "Has it been told thee what hath befallen our son?" he said, slowly and clearly.
The woman bowed her head. "It hath been told me," she whispered brokenly, "that his life was ended even as----"
"He was crucified," said Caiaphas, still in the same slow, clear tone, "even as was the Nazarene. God is just. Blood for blood, it is the law, and hath been from the beginning."
"God is also love," said Anna, looking fearfully into her husband's face.
He returned the look with one of full intelligence. "Do not fear," he said, gently, "it is best that the matter hath been spoken between us; it were like an open grave else. The madness hath passed from my brain now, and I see---" He paused, and so terrible a look came over his face that his wife cried out faintly.
"God is love," she repeated in a low voice, wringing her hands; "He will forgive. How couldst thou know that the Nazarene was the Anointed One? Yet, even he said, 'Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do!' as they drove the nails into his hands."
"Woman!" said Caiaphas, with something of his old high-priestly authority, "hold thy peace, and forget that thou hast spoken blasphemy. Didst think then that I--I--the High Priest, was ready to confess that the Nazarene was the Messiah of Israel! I am ready to confess that he was an innocent man; and I am blood-guilty in that I brought about his death. God hath punished me by slaying my son, even as he punished David for his sin. After this once we will speak of the thing no more; it shall never again be named between us. Nor shall it be made known to any other. It were not meet that so shameful a thing be bruited about concerning the High Priest. Our flesh and blood is accursed."
The mother's face flushed hotly. "The lad was innocent!" she cried. "He was sinned against most foully, but he himself sinned not. He is in Paradise, for he hath the word of the Lord."
"What meanest thou? Who told thee concerning the thing?" said Caiaphas, raising himself up and fixing his burning eyes upon her face.
"I had it from a lad named Stephen, who was even as a brother to him who was our son--Titus, he was called. As he hung upon the cross in agony, the Lord spake to him and said, 'This day shalt thou be with me in Paradise.'"
"Who is this Stephen?" said Caiaphas, in a low, terrible voice. "And whom dost thou call Lord?"
Anna trembled with terror, she tried to speak, but the words died upon her lips.
"Speak, woman!"
"Stephen is--the son of the Greek who took our child. The man hath been punished for his sin. He also perished with the Lord."
There was an awful silence. Then Caiaphas again spoke, and his voice was as the voice of a stranger in the ears of Anna. "This Stephen, the son of the malefactor, doth he still live?"
"He--lives; but, oh my husband, I beseech thee--do not harm him, so innocent, so heavenly a one!"
But through the words of her entreaty sounded the inexorable tones of the High Priest's voice.
"Blood for blood! The iniquities of the fathers shall be visited upon the children, even unto the third and fourth generations. It is the law."
CHAPTER IV.
IN PLACE OF JUDAS.
"What and if while we wait for the fulfilment of the promise, the same men who have slain our Lord shall also turn their hand against us? We be few in number and there is naught to shield us from their fury. Thou didst see when we praised God in the temple even this day, how the chief priests and the elders cast upon us looks which were as sharp arrows in the hands of mighty men of valor. Shall the wolves which slew the Shepherd spare the flock?"
"Hadst thou faith even as a grain of mustard seed thou wouldst not doubt the word of the Lord, 'Ye shall be baptized with the Holy Spirit not many days hence; depart not from Jerusalem till that the promise is fulfilled to you!' And how sayest thou that there is naught to shield us. God, the Almighty One, even the Father of our Lord Jesus, whom we saw received up into heaven, he shall protect us from the wrath of the Jews."
"He hath suffered me to be tempted with doubts and fears more than most," said Thomas, glancing fearfully at a group of men in the garb of rabbis who were approaching them along the narrow street. "But do not thou despise me because of mine infirmities. The Lord said to thee, 'Thou art Peter, the rock!' unto me he said, 'Be not faithless but believing.' It is not easy for me to believe, it is not easy for me to rejoice, when the Lord hath left us alone and unfriended.--Ah! sawest thou that look? The old man was Annas, the other was Issachar, the cruel; but in the eyes of the young man with them there burned a very fury of hate. He lusteth for our blood."
"I have not before seen his face," said Peter thoughtfully; then he turned himself about to look after the retreating figures. As he did so the young man of whom Thomas had spoken also turned, and again Peter felt the indignant fire of his gaze. "It matters not," he said after a pause, "what the heart of man shall devise, the will of the Almighty shall be done, on earth, as also in heaven," and he looked upward longingly, as if he hoped to pierce through the deeps of blue to that place whither his Lord had gone.
And having come now to the place where they were wont to gather together, they went in. It was the same house where they had made ready the Passover at the word of the Lord, on that awful night in which he was betrayed. And in the large upper room, made sacred by the memories of that last supper with their Lord, they found them which believed. It was to this place they had come after they had seen the cloud receive him out of their sight, the words of the angels yet ringing in their ears: "This Jesus which was received up from you into heaven, shall so come in like manner as ye beheld him going into heaven." And here day by day they gathered to wait for the mysterious Comforter, which was to come to them out of heaven, they knew not how. In the hearts of some of them burned the hope that the Comforter might be the Lord himself, and that at last they should see the promised kingdom of the Messiah.
"There be but eleven of us whom He chose for this ministry," said Peter, looking around on the little assembly, which numbered about one hundred and twenty persons. "It was needful that the Scriptures should be fulfilled concerning Judas, who betrayed our Lord into the hands of them that slew him. But now he is dead, and hath gone to his own place, and it is written in the book of the Psalms, 'Let his habitation be made desolate, let no man dwell therein. His office let another take.' Of the men therefore which have companied with us while the Lord Jesus remained upon earth, from the day when he received baptism in the Jordan, unto that day in which he was taken up into heaven, of these must one become a witness of His resurrection."
"How then shall the will of God be known in the matter?" said John gravely. "We have not the spirit of discernment, for did we not trust even Judas who betrayed him? Albeit the Lord knew him from the beginning."
"Let God himself choose!" cried Peter. "It hath been the custom in Israel since the days of old to decide such matters by lot. So did God select his chosen priests from the family of Eleazar. So also doth he chose which one shall stand by the altar of incense in the temple."
Then wrote they upon tablets of wood, every one the name of the man he thought most holy and acceptable, and worthy to witness with the eleven to the resurrection of Jesus. And the tablets were cast into a basin; and it was found that Joseph Barsabas, called Justus, and Matthias were named. Then Peter called these two men to stand up before the company of the disciples, and he prayed aloud unto the Lord in these words:
"Thou, Lord, which knowest the hearts of all men, show of these two the one whom thou hast chosen to take the place in this ministry and apostleship, from which Judas fell away that he might go to his own place."
Then cast they the tablets, whereon were written the names of Justus and Matthias, into the brazen cup; and Peter shook the cup, and the name of Matthias leapt out, and from henceforward he was numbered with the apostles.
As they went away from the upper room to their abiding places, Mary the mother of Jesus, and Salome, and Mary of Magdala together with John, the beloved disciple, they talked with one another of what had been done. Stephen also was with them.
"We are again twelve," said John with a sigh, for he bethought him of the days when there was yet another.
"The Lord was upon earth for forty days after that he arose from the dead," said Stephen thoughtfully, his eyes fixed upon a bright star which shone above the horizon like a golden lamp. "Why then did not he himself choose one to fill the place of Judas?"
John looked startled. "What dost thou mean?" he said quickly, turning to look at the young man in the half darkness.
"Could he not have chosen, had he wished it? Could he not yet choose, being set down at the right hand of God?"
"And dost thou think to question the doings of God's elect?" said John, a ring of authority in his mild tones.
"Nay, my son, chide not the lad," said Mary. "I myself doubted whether indeed the casting of lots be pleasing to God. God hath permitted men many things in the past because of their blindness."
"It is a practice of wicked men," cried Stephen. "I have seen thieves do the like to apportion their booty. And did not the Roman soldiers also at the foot of his cross cast lots for the garments of the crucified one?"
"God knoweth that we meant it aright," said John humbly, his face full of trouble. "We have not yet the spirit of discernment, and are as those who stumble in the darkness."
"When the spirit of truth is come he will teach you all things," said Stephen softly.
"'And bring all things to your remembrance, whatsoever I have taught you.' Ay! those were his words. We have need of it, sore need; did we not forget on that day of dread that he had even told us, told us plainly, and many times, that so it must be? yet had we failed to understand. Nay! we would not understand."
The slight form of Mary trembled and her voice shook as she said, "Many years hath fear been a guest in my heart since the day Simeon said to me--when I presented my son a babe before the Lord, 'Behold, this child is set for the falling and rising up of many in Israel, and for a sign which is spoken against. Yea, and a sword shall pierce through thine own soul, that thoughts out of many hearts may be revealed.' The sword hath drunken deep of my heart's blood, yet will I trust him though he slay me."
"The worst hath happened for us all," said Stephen, clasping her hand. "He is alive! He is ascended! and yet is he with us, for he said 'Lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world!'"
"It cannot be then that we have gone very far wrong," said John slowly. "It shall yet be according to his will. If Matthias be not the elect of God for the Apostleship, yet shall he walk with us, and the pierced hand of the Master himself shall touch another which as yet we know not. There were thirteen in our fellowship while he was upon earth."
And having come to the place of their abode, they went in.
CHAPTER V.
IN THE ABODE OF KINGS.
"Hast thou a torch?"
"Nay, but it is impossible that they be here. Pah! I cannot abide the odor of mummies."
"Yet must thou pass centuries in their company, if indeed thou art fortunate enough to die in a civilized land." And the speaker's lips widened till they revealed a row of yellow teeth.
Amu bent over and gazed steadily for a moment into the black opening that yawned at his feet, then he looked up at his companion. Something in his sombre eyes caused the yellow row of teeth to disappear. "I am going home," he said suddenly.
"'Tis good! Go back, fetch me a torch, and I will explore for the singing bird. I am not minded to move from this place till I shall seize her."
"Hast thou water?"
"Nay, but thou hast a bottle at thy girdle; give it me. Even at this moment I thirst."
"By Sechet! it is empty. But stay, there is a fountain beyond the crest of yonder hill; go quench thy thirst. I will remain till thou shalt return."
Besa hesitated; he looked steadily into the lowering face of Amu. "Thou art in a strange humor to-day, friend," he said at length. "I have been patient with thee, but I will bear no more. Give me thy flask; I will fill it at the fountain."
The face of Amu blanched to a sickly yellow hue. His eyes glowed with fury, but he said not a word; with a sudden quick movement, he seized the bridle of his mule, and leaping upon its back galloped away towards Memphis.
Besa looked after him quietly. "What may be the meaning of all this?" he said to himself. "Stay, let me consider for a moment. The man comes to me and says in effect this: 'Thou art a dealer in slaves; I can procure for thee two of good value, a lad and a maiden. The maiden hath a voice like to the sound of nightingales; yet cannot I bring them to the proper purchasers.' At the same time I, Besa, am commissioned to procure a singing slave for the princess, who pineth in a sickly melancholy. But what have I suffered in the matter thus far? I have been half killed by a fall, now am I parched with thirst, and the man lies to me concerning his water-bottle. I saw him fill it before we started, therefore I ventured to leave mine own, which I could not at the moment lay my hands upon. There is no fountain behind the brow of yonder hill. For what purpose hath the man lied? There is something here that I cannot see. I will for the present forego the matter, but there are two things to be set down for the future, and Besa is not the man to forget."
Then he advanced to the opening of the tomb, which showed black in its setting of yellow sand; kneeling clown, he looked carefully at the stone stairway which led down into the depths. The sand was sifting in with each breath of the hot desert wind. "It has been opened but a short time," he remarked at length. "It will be a pious act for me to replace the stone; Anubis will reward me for it. One must not fail in duty to the sacred dead." Then he raised his voice, "Rest quietly, my children; there is nought to hurt thee in the abodes of the departed. Song and sunlight, laughter and air are needed no more by the slaves of Anubis. His slave shalt thou be unless thou presently come forth in answer to my cry."
The sound of his voice echoed in dismal reverberations through the hollow blackness within, but there was no sign that his words fell upon other ears than those sealed to eternal silence within their swathings of spiced linen. The heavy odor of death ascended in stupefying clouds into the face of the man as he knelt at the edge of the tomb. He drew back a little, and the malignant smile faded from his face.
"The stone shall be put back," he said doggedly, "for I believe, by my life, that they be down there. They will live till I shall return with torches and men. If I secure them both, I shall be avenged also upon Amu."
Forthwith he bent over and laid hold upon the stone. It was heavy, and though the lad in his mad fear had succeeded in shoving it to one side, the man could with difficulty stir it a single inch. The sun beat down in fury upon his head, the hot wind sang in his ears with a strange sound of buzzing insects and humming wheels. He stepped down into the stairway, the better to grasp the stone for another mighty effort. Suddenly a wave as of fire swept before his eyes, his hands relaxed their hold, he reeled a little, and then fell, a nerveless heap, into the darkness.
To Seth and Anat, who were crouching behind a huge sarcophagus, the sound at first signified nothing but some fresh horror.
"I must cry out," urged Seth in a vehement whisper. "We shall perish in this place, for I cannot move the stone from beneath."
But Anat held him fast. "Better slavery to death than to such a man."
Seth watched the shaft of yellow light that pierced the thick darkness. "Presently," he thought shudderingly, "it will disappear." But the moments crept slowly by, and the sun still poured in, revealing the countless dancing atoms which had leapt up from the sleep of centuries beneath the feet of the fugitives.
"Anat," he whispered, "something has happened; I will go and see."
The blind girl held him fast for a moment longer. She bent her head. There was no sound save the sighing of the wind outside and the hissing murmur of the sand as it drifted onto the stairway of their prison. "Go," she said with a sigh of relief, "he has departed."
Seth rose cautiously to his feet and crept toward the opening; his eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness now, and he could see on either side the vast gaudily-painted wooden cases in which dwelt the dead. Their great eyes stared at him as he hurried past. He stumbled presently over something which lay at the foot of the stone steps. Starting back with a cry he perceived that it was the body of a man. He had fallen upon his face in the sand and lay quite motionless. The lad stared at him for a moment in fascinated silence, then he bethought him that presently the man might recover his senses. Turning, he darted back into the darkness. "Come!" he said breathlessly in the ear of the blind girl.
Treading lightly that they might not awake the sleeper, the two crept up the stair, not without many a fearful backward glance at the quiet figure which still lay on its face, the monstrous staring eyes of the mummies looking on unmoved, and the stealthy wind already beginning to urge the uneasy desert to "Come, cover this man that hath lain him down to sleep unasked in the abode of kings!"
"Shall I put the stone in its place?" said Seth, when they had reached the upper air.
"Yes," said the girl, clenching her thin hands. "Let him bide there till the other shall seek him, and if that be never, then I care not. Would he not have left us to perish? But the gods stayed his hand."
The lad hesitated. "He hath no water."
"Fetch him water then and food also if thou wilt. Thou art soft-hearted; for myself I should leave him as he is. Dost thou not see that it is now that we must make good our escape? Once the man hath recovered himself we are lost. I can hear the bells of his beast, let us seize it and flee away into the desert that we may find the magician who can open the eyes of them that see not."
"We could not pass the wilderness, we should perish by the way."
Anat sat down in the sand. "Thou art a man," she said scornfully, "and therefore wise; I am as the dust under thy feet; I have no eyes to see with, yet shall I tell thee what shall come to pass. Go down now to our enemy whom the gods have smitten, raise him up and pour water into his mouth and upon his head, then when he shall come to himself say to him, 'Here now is thy beast, I will set thee upon it that thou mayest ride. As for this maid whom thou didst covet, behold she is thine; I also will run before thee.'" And the girl laughed aloud, and tossed her head so that all the gold and silver coins of her necklace clinked musically together.
Seth looked at her indignantly. "All women have the poison of asps under their tongues," he muttered. "It hath been told me, and it is even true, I have seen men beat their women for less; it purgeth them from folly."
The blind girl sprang to her feet. "Wilt thou beat me because I have proved that thou art the fool?" she cried, her voice choking with rage. "Yes, let it be so, I care not, but I had thought that thou wast not as others--that thou didst love me, blind, useless, helpless though I be," and she burst into a passion of weeping.
The lad was at her side in a moment. "I do love thee," he murmured penitently. "I have no other on earth, thou art my all. Come! it shall be as thou hast said, here is the beast, with such a pretty saddle, little one, all of crimson velvet, and hung with bells of silver. It is thine, the gods have given it thee. We will go away towards the first halting place, I am sure that I can find it."
Anat checked her sobs after a due space; she even allowed herself to be placed upon the back of the mule. "Have I the poison of asps under my tongue?" she said plaintively, but with a gleam of triumph.
"Not so, by Osiris, I was a brute to say such a thing. Rather hast thou a voice as sweet as the voice of fountains and as the voice of thrushes that sing by the river. But I shall place water where our enemy can drink when he awakens; and I will not close the stone altogether, I will leave a little space where the sun may enter into that noisome place. This shall be, shall it not, little sister?"
Anat tossed her head; she made no reply. Then Seth made haste and poured water into a cup and set it on the step where their enemy should see it when he awoke; he took also from his wallet a handful of parched corn and laid it beside the cup. Looking sidewise at the man, who still lay all along on his face just as he had been stricken, he fancied that he saw him stir a little, and the terror came back upon him so that he sprang up the steps two at a time, and with a mighty effort drew the great stone forward over the opening, forgetting in his fear to leave it open ever so little that the sun might look in.
After that the two fled away, their faces set towards the great and terrible wilderness, beyond which lay the land of their hope.
CHAPTER VI.
THE LORD OF THE SOUTH-LAND.
Abu Ben Hesed was a mighty man of war, he was also rich. Ten score of camels, swift dromedaries not a few, and horses, such that men paid great sums of gold to possess them; flocks of sheep and of goats; wives also and children in plenty; all of these things, together with the unquestioning obedience and devotion of his tribe, did this dweller in the desert call his own.
He was a tall man, and his beard descended upon his breast in waves of silvery whiteness. Yet were his eyes as keen as the eyes of a mountain eagle, and there was no one of all his tribe who could endure hunger and thirst as could Ben Hesed. Not that it was necessary for him to so endure, for was not he lord of all the land that lay betwixt the mountains on the south of the great wilderness of Shur, even unto the sea?
"To satisfy the appetite is not always good," he was wont to say to his sons. "This will the beasts do whenever they find provender. Man alone can say to himself, thou shalt fast because I have willed it. Hunger thus endured maketh man king over the beasts; thus is he set apart from them, and so do his thoughts soar above the earth even unto the region of the heavens, where dwelleth Ja, the maker of the stars and also of man."
On this day Ben Hesed sat alone in the door of his tent; the sun was sinking, a ball of scarlet behind the purple rim of the horizon; a group of camels, browsing on the scanty desert growths, showed black against its fiery glow, their shadows stretching long and gaunt across the sand. About the margin of a meagre pool close at hand a cluster of palm trees also meagre reared their heads, clasping their dusty fronds across the water as if to hide this sacred treasure of the desert from the fierce wooing of the sun.
The voices of the women, coming and going with their water-jars, and the laughter and cooing of half a score of naked brown babies, who lay contentedly kicking up their heels in the warm sand, came pleasantly to the ear of Abu Ben Hesed. He cared not that the pool was meagre and the palm trees stunted, this only made them the more precious and wonderful, more truly the works of Jehovah, who had set them thus in the midst of this great and terrible wilderness, like jewels of price. He had looked upon fruitful lands and great rivers, upon cities also, where men dwelt by hundreds and by thousands, and his soul had grown sick within him at the sight.
"It was not because of their disobedience only," he said, "that Jehovah led the children of Israel for forty years in the desert, but also, because far from the lustful fat earth and teeming rivers and the abominations of stone and wood that men call cities, he might reveal to them himself."
In palm-shaded fountains, in the beauty of night and morning, and in the flowers which flourished in the arid soil of the desert, he beheld the love of God. In the deep valleys and solemn mountain crests where the seething primal rock in some remote and terrible time had gathered itself into mighty waves and fantastic pinnacles, only to stand still forever at the word of the Lord, he perceived his power, and in the blinding, scorching whirlwind of sand, before whose withering breath nothing mortal could stand, and in whose fiery garments the sun itself seemed smothered, he saw the wrath of Jehovah.
As Abu Ben Hesed mused thus within himself, he became aware after a time that a man was coming swiftly towards him out of the desert, his garments girt about him. He slackened not his pace till he came to the spot where Ben Hesed sat in the door of his tent, then he cast himself down before him and rent his garments with a loud cry of grief.
"Woe is me, my lord," he cried, when he could find his breath, "I am the bearer of evil tidings."
"Speak, my son," said Ben Hesed, who had recognized in the man one of his herdsmen. "What hath befallen?"
"Thine enemy who dwells in the south-land hath fallen upon the flocks this day and hath carried away of the herds a goodly number, of she-camels also and their foals, three, and of the horses, the stallion Dekar."
"And thou livest to tell me this," said Ben Hesed, his eyes burning with anger. "Why didst thou not defend the flocks?"
"Woe is me!" repeated the man, casting the dust upon his head. "I have not yet told the worst; we fought valiantly, and thy son Eri is slain, together with Kish, the herdsman. When this befell, we fled before the face of the enemy; the flocks also and the herds are scattered as the sand of the desert before the wind, and there is nought to hinder them from falling into the hand of the oppressor."
Then Abu Ben Hesed arose and rent his clothes and cast dust upon his head. "Jehovah hath caused me to be smitten," he said. "Nevertheless all his ways are right ways. I should have watched for mine enemy, for he hath grown lusty and flourishing of late. I will get me after him and smite him till he shall cry aloud for succor. Jehovah grant me my desire upon mine enemy! Alas for my son Eri! He hath been murderously cut down in the flower of his youth! From the bright morning of his days he hath been plunged suddenly into the night of death. But behold, his blood crieth to me for vengeance out of the desert. Let us make haste!"
The terrible news spread throughout the encampment, withering the peaceful evening joy, like the hot breath of a Sirocco. The women ceased their gay incessant chatter and broke into loud wailing, and the frightened children wept with fear at the sound.
"Alas! Alas!" cried the mother of the dead man. "Alas for my son! He was straight and comely as a palm tree, beautiful also, and pleasant in his speech. Woe! Woe! He will no more open his mouth with kindness, nor will his lips break forth with singing."
"Woe! Woe!" shrilled the other women, rocking to and fro, and casting the ashes from the dying fire upon their dishevelled heads.
"Morning and evening hath he led forth the flocks!" moaned the mother.
"He will lead them forth no more!" wailed her companions.
"Alas for the betrothed maiden! She is desolate, even as a widow without little ones hath she become!"
"Woe! Woe!"
Through all the clamor of the wailing sounded the clashing of weapons and the neighing of horses, as the men with set teeth and lowering brows made ready for the pursuit of their enemy. Within the hour they departed, a hundred strong, the swift hoofs of their horses casting up the dust of the desert behind them, as they vanished, a war-cloud big with storm, into the night.
Before dawn Abu Ben Hesed had seen his desire upon his enemy. They had discovered the marauders as they were making merry with their spoil, and had fallen upon them suddenly, so that they had no time to escape.
The eyes of Ben Hesed were terrible to look upon as he cut down the flying wretches.
"Let no one of them escape!" he cried aloud. "Slay and spare not!"
Afterward they gathered the spoil of the dead, together with their own stolen possessions and turned their faces once more toward the north. The heart of Ben Hesed was as lead within his bosom.
"After all," he thought, "what doth it profit to revenge oneself on an enemy? My son is not restored, nor is my herdsman. Yet it is the law, blood for blood, and the law is good." He raised his eyes wearily, and looked away toward the east, where the dawn was beginning with solemn pomp and splendor. Long rays of tremulous light flickered athwart the cold, clear blue of the heavens, the morning star burned pallid amidst the growing radiance, till at last it was swallowed up and lost in the oncoming flood of day. Abu Ben Hesed looked down at his clothing and at his hands which were red with the blood of his enemies. He loathed himself at that moment.
"I see something yonder which resembles a man," said his eldest son, who rode beside him. "Also a beast, lying down. What can it be, think you, my lord? Another of our enemies who hath perchance escaped us in the darkness?"
Abu Ben Hesed turned his eyes in the direction to which the man pointed. "It is death," he said quietly. "The vultures are already gathering to the feast."
"Nay, I have seen the figure move. Shall I go and see what the thing may be?"
"Go, my son; if the man be alive, slay him not, but bring him to me unhurt."
The son of Abu obeyed, drawing near the object and circling about it cautiously that he might view it from every side. Presently he dismounted and walked quite up to the thing, his horse following at his heels, and snuffing at the air suspiciously. Two or three great birds with bare flabby necks and red eyes, rose slowly from the ground at his approach and flapped heavily away, croaking dismally. They had been busy on the carcass of a mule, which lay dead upon the sand, its gay saddle of crimson velvet hung with silver bells, befouled and draggled. At a little distance, and quite motionless, was a heap of parti-colored drapery, from which protruded a slender brown foot.
"A child!" said Ben Abu. "Two of them," he added as he pulled aside the striped covering of cotton cloth which concealed their faces. "Dead from thirst," was his verdict after he had turned them over and had noted with a certain dimness of his keen vision, their swollen tongues and the goat-skin water-bottle which lay beside the lad quite empty.
Then he stood up and blew a long blast on the ram's horn which he carried at his girdle.
CHAPTER VII.
THE PHARISEE FROM TARSUS.
"Oh, that Jehovah would rend the heavens; that Israel might see his righteousness! My heart burneth within me as a live coal. I cannot sleep because of these things."
"God hath given thee this spirit, my son, because of the peril of his chosen. He shall greatly prosper the work of thine hand." Annas uttered these words in a low, smooth voice, drawing his long silvery beard through his delicate fingers and looking keenly from under his half-closed eyelids at the dark, eager face before him.
"If I could only help on the day of his coming!" said the young man, rising and pacing restlessly up and down the floor, his hands clasped behind him, his head sunken upon his breast.
As he walked thus, the eyes of the older man followed him with a peculiar satisfaction. They rested approvingly on the strong athletic figure, on the bent head crisped with dark curls, on the stern brow and fiery eyes, and the clear, strongly-cut features.
"From my youth have I been struggling to keep the law with this one end in view!" continued the speaker. "If I, even I, might be he who shall by his holy living, by the exact fulfilling of the law of the Almighty, bring the Messiah! But the flesh is weak, I know not how I have offended. Of the two hundred and forty-eight commands and the three hundred and sixty-five prohibitions, I have not broken one knowingly for many days. But there has always been failure, a drop of unclean water, perchance, on the dish from which I have eaten, or my robe has touched one who is polluted and I knew it not, or I myself in all my zeal have omitted something. It must be all or nothing in the eyes of him who is God of gods, infinite, unsearchable, who knoweth all things. What is man that he can please him who sitteth on the circle of the heavens?"
Annas smiled behind his hand. "The zeal of thine house hath eaten me up," he quoted piously. "Truly, my son, it giveth me heartfelt joy to perceive such holy aspirations in so young a man. Now do I know that God was with me when I was moved to send for Saul of Tarsus. As for me, I am an old man. I can no longer support all the rigor of the law, else would my flesh fail me. 'Behold to obey is better than sacrifice, and to hearken than the fat of rams,' as it is written also in the law."
"It is that alone to which I press forward--obedience to the law. Thou knowest--why should I even speak of the matter to thee, my father, that if one person only can for a single day keep the whole law and not offend in one point, nay, if but one person could for once perfectly keep the Sabbath of the Lord our God, then--then the Messiah would come. Then would the Lord dwell once more among his people in visible form. Then would we tread our enemies under our feet, then would the Holy of Holies be filled with glory so that Jerusalem should shine as a bride prepared for her husband. Oh, Lord! when shall these things be? 'Why dost thou tarry? Why is thy holy city defiled by the Gentiles?'" The speaker paused and lifted his face as if to listen for some word from the unanswering heavens.
The deep tones of the old man broke the silence. "These things can never be until Jerusalem is purged of the followers of that blasphemer, who hath of late paid the just penalty of his crimes on the accursed tree. Take counsel with me, my son, and I will tell thee how thou shalt hasten this day of which thou hast spoken. 'With thine eyes shalt thou behold and see the reward of the wicked. The Lord will not cast off his people, neither will he forsake his inheritance.' He speaks to thee, my son, through the words of my mouth, listen therefore, 'Judgment shall return unto righteousness, and all the upright in heart shall follow it. But who will rise up for me against the evil doers; who will stand up for me against the workers of iniquity?'"
"I will stand against the workers of iniquity," answered the young man solemnly. "I will utterly crush them and cast them out, even as did Elijah in the day when he slew the prophets of Baal at the brook Kishon."
"Upon thee, my son, hath the mantle of the prophet fallen, and into thy hand will I commit this work. Only must thou submit thyself to my direction in the matter, for I know the ways of this people and of this city as thou dost not. Listen therefore while I shall speak to thee of what we must accomplish."
"Speak! for my spirit burns within me. I long to come up to the help of the Lord against the mighty."
"Thou hast well said the mighty, my son, for strange and terrible things have happened. Thou hast already heard how that suddenly out of the hill country of Galilee there arose a man called Jesus of Nazareth. He was a carpenter, and the son of a carpenter, he wrought also at his trade blamelessly enough until he was about thirty years of age. After that he took to himself certain men of the baser sort, gathered from among ignorant fisher folk, and even publicans; these men he called his disciples. Then went he forth and began to teach strange and ungodly doctrines to the people. He taught them that the Sabbath was not to be observed after the law, that the priests and rabbis were hypocrites; yea, he even said that we were as whited sepulchres, fair to look upon, but within full of dead men's bones and all uncleanness. Extortioners also he called us and unjust." And the speaker's voice shook with passion. "He pretended to do wondrous miracles, and all manner of wild tales began to fill the mouths of the common people. Even of our own number were led after him certain ones--Joseph of Arimathea--may God smite him, and Nicodemus also, so thou canst perceive the cunning of the Evil One. He came boldly up to Jerusalem at the time of feasts, he even made pretense of keeping the feasts also with his disciples, yet was he always undermining the law and teaching others so. Repeatedly did he heal on the Sabbath day."
"What meanest thou?" said the young man, knitting his dark brows. "Did he heal then, of a truth?"
Annas hesitated a moment, he shifted uneasily about in his place. "Thou wilt hear wondrous tales of his doings," he said at length, dropping his eyes to the floor. "But--" and his voice gathered firmness, "it is all lies--all lies. The man paid money to vile beggars to pretend that they were blind and halt, then, forsooth, he loosed them from their infirmities."
"It was reported in Tarsus that he had raised a man from the dead," said Saul, fixing his candid dark eyes on the downcast face of his companion.
"Reported?--yes! I also heard of the marvel. The High Priest sent his servant, Malchus, to inquire into the matter."
"Why did he not go himself?"
"What need? the man was faithful."
"Where is this Malchus? I should like to speak with him."
Annas looked alarmed. "The man hath died since," he said, frowning.
"What said he of the matter?"
"What could an honest man say?" replied Annas with a crafty smile. "Can a carpenter build anew the life which God hath taken out of a man? But I have not told thee all. This carpenter also declared that he was the Messiah."
There was silence in the room for a moment, broken only by the quickened breathing of the young man.
"He said further in the presence of the holy Council of the Sanhedrim that he was the Son of God, the King of Israel, and that hereafter he would come in the clouds of heaven to judge the earth."
Saul of Tarsus sprang to his feet, lightnings played within his eyes. "Blasphemer!" he cried in a choked voice. "Why did not Jehovah smite him to the earth?"
"Jehovah did smite him by the hand of his servants; not many hours after he had uttered those sayings he died the accursed death--But hark! I hear a sound of turmoil; what hath befallen? Alas for Jerusalem! she is sorely vexed by the heathen within her gates. Ever and anon the Roman soldiers smite the inhabitants and there is the clash of weapons and the shedding of blood even at the very gates of the temple."
His companion glanced out of the window. "The people are running from every direction," he said eagerly. "Let us see what hath happened."
"Go thou, my son. I must needs sanctify myself for the temple service."
Descending into the street and following the steps of the hurrying stragglers, the young man soon found himself in the meaner and more crowded portions of the city. Here the narrow streets were choked with people, all running, pushing, struggling towards a common centre.
The Pharisee of Tarsus shrank back with disgust into the doorway of a synagogue near at hand, and from this coign of vantage looked forth on the crowd. The white turbans of Jewish rabbis, the red-bronze faces of Egyptian camel drivers, and the gay robes of Asiatic merchants all mingled in the shifting mazes of the multitude. A jargon of tongues also, like the buzzing of a gigantic swarm of bees, filled the air. From somewhere not far away, he could hear the loud tones of a man's voice, rising and falling as if in passionate exhortation.
"What hath befallen?" he asked at length of a man dressed in the garb of a Greek sailor, who, like himself, had sought refuge in the doorway of the synagogue.
"Fire from heaven hath fallen on the followers of the Nazarene," replied the man, without looking around.
"Dost thou mean the followers of the man called Jesus, who hath lately perished on the cross?" said Saul, regardless for once of the defilement which he brought upon himself by speaking with this Gentile.
"The same," replied the Greek, glancing carelessly at his questioner. "The man Jesus was a worker of miracles. He revived after being buried three days, and went up bodily to dwell with the God of the Jews."
"Dog of a Gentile," cried Saul angrily, "thou art accursed because thou art a Gentile, but doubly accursed because thou hast also blasphemed."