Читать книгу Stephen: A Soldier of the Cross - Florence Morse Kingsley - Страница 4

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."

The Greek shrugged his shoulders. "Do I care for thee, Jew?" he said, showing his white teeth in a wicked laugh. "Thou also art accursed, and thy temple shall be torn down, so that not one stone shall stand upon another. I heard the Nazarene say it, and, by Bacchus, I believe it."

"Thou shalt be scourged, fellow, and thy scurrilous tongue cut from thy head," hissed Saul between his shut teeth. "I am a Roman, and I will see to it."

At this the man turned pale, for all his swarthy skin. With a sudden, quick movement, he snatched his garments from the grasp of the Pharisee and fled away into the crowd, doubling and twisting under the arms and betwixt the legs of the half-naked barbarians till he was lost to view.

Saul looked after him for a moment in speechless rage.

"Thou art a stranger, then, in Jerusalem," said a voice at his side, "and knowest not what wonders have come upon the Holy City--wonders and terrors also."

The young Pharisee turned and looked at the speaker. He was a Jew, and wore a broad phylactery upon his arm. "I have heard all," he said shortly. "But what hath befallen the followers of the man? The knave yonder said that fire from heaven had fallen upon them; I hope that they be burned to ashes, as were the dwellers in Sodom."

"They are unharmed," said the newcomer gravely. "If, indeed, fire hath fallen upon them, it was a fire that enlightened their understanding, for even now they are preaching to the people of the risen Galilean, so that of all these foreigners every man hears in his own tongue."

"Nay, son of Abraham," cried another voice, "the men are drunken with new wine, and babble as is the custom of wine-bibbers and gluttons."

Saul recognized in the speaker one of the members of the Sanhedrim. "Why then do ye, who are in authority, suffer such unseemly conduct in these men? Why not deal with them also as thou hast dealt with their Master?"

"Thou art zealous," said the other in a low voice, and with a gesture of caution. "Yet would such measures be untimely. This," indicating the mixed multitude with a contemptuous wave of his hand, "is a beast, which hath not been tamed either by the church nor yet by the Romans. When it hath tired of these babblers it will rend them, even as it rent the Nazarene, for it was this very multitude that shrieked, 'Crucify him! crucify him!' for the space of three hours. Come, let us be going. We defile ourselves by remaining in this place."