Hebrew Heroes Part 3

CHAPTER V.

THE DREAM.

At sunrise on the following morning two women were seated on the ground, in the back part of a small flat-roofed house, situated in a very secluded spot amongst the hills, not a mile from Jerusalem. They sat opposite to each other, engaged--after the manner of the East--in grinding corn, by moving round, by means of handles, the upper millstone upon the nether one.

The room in which they were, if room it could be termed, was a narrow place on the ground-floor, part.i.tioned off from a larger apartment, and devoted to holding stores, and other such domestic uses. Here corn was ground, rice sifted from the husk, and occasionally weaving carried on.

Large bunches of raisins hung on the walls, jars of olive-oil and honey were neatly ranged on the floor; nor lacked there stores of millet, lentiles, and dried figs, such being the food on which chiefly subsisted the dwellers in that lonely home. A curtain, now drawn aside divided this store-place from the larger front room, which opened to the road in front. It had a door communicating with a small patch of cultivated ground behind, in which were a few flowers tended by women's hands, the fairest cl.u.s.tering round a bright little spring which gushed from the hill on whose steepest side the small habitation seemed to nestle.

One of the women, busy with the laborious task of grinding, was a Hebrew servant, past the prime of her days, but still strong to work; the other was fair and young, her delicate frame, her slender fingers, looking little suited for manual labour. With a very sad countenance and a heavy heart sat Zarah that morning at the millstone, engaged in her monotonous task. It was not that she was unwilling to spend her strength in humble toil, or that she murmured because her grandmother Hada.s.sah had no longer men-servants and but one maid-servant to do her bidding. Zarah had too much of the spirit of a Ruth to shrink from work, or to complain of poverty, if shared with one who was to her as a mother; nay, her cheerfulness at labour was wont to gush forth in song.

It was not a personal trial that now made the tears flow from Zarah's l.u.s.trous eyes, as she slowly turned round the millstone; no selfish sorrow drew heavy sighs from her bosom, as she murmured to herself, "Oh, cruel--cruel!"

"Peace be unto you, my child. You are early, and it was late ere you could retire to rest," said the voice of Hada.s.sah, as, pale and sad in aspect, the widow lady entered the apartment.

Zarah arose from her humble posture, approached her grandmother, first meekly kissed the hem of her garment, and then received her tender embrace.

"I could not sleep," faltered the maiden; "I dared not close my eyes lest I should dream some dream of horror. Oh, ruthless Abishai, most cruel of men! will not the All-merciful, who cares for the stranger, require that young Greek's blood at his hand?"--Zarah covered her face and wept.

"His was an unrighteous and wicked deed," said Hada.s.sah.

"And it was I who betrayed the stranger," sobbed Zarah. "It was my start and exclamation which directed the murderer's eyes to his place of concealment! I shall never be happy again!"

"Nay, you did no wrong, my white dove," said Hada.s.sah, tenderly drawing the maiden closer to her bosom; "the guilt lies on the head of Abishai, and on his head alone. Had he not been the beloved of my dead Miriam, my only daughter, never more should that man of blood cross the threshold of Hada.s.sah."

"I never wish to look on Abishai again!" cried Zarah, with as much of anger as her gentle nature was capable of feeling, flas.h.i.+ng from under her long dark lashes. "He might have trusted one whom Judas could trust; the face of that Greek was a face which could not deceive;" and the maiden added, but not aloud, "the stranger--when he stood with folded arms, so calm, so beauteous, so n.o.ble, and bowed his head, and said 'Content' when his life was trembling in the balance--looked to me as one of the goodly angels that came to Sodom at eve! Better, if he must needs die, that the Greek should have fallen by the javelin of my brave kinsman Judas, than by the dagger of Abishai. Mother," cried Zarah, suddenly raising her head, and looking into the face of Hada.s.sah with an earnest, pleading gaze, "may we not hope that the stranger's soul has found mercy with G.o.d? How could the young Gentile wors.h.i.+p One whom he knew not?--his blindness was inherited from his parents--he did not wilfully turn away from the light! Oh, say that you think that the All-merciful has had compa.s.sion on the murdered Greek! did not the Lord spare Nineveh--pitied He not even the little ones and the cattle?"

"I do think it--I do firmly believe it," said Hada.s.sah, raising her eyes towards heaven; "verily the dream that visited me last night must have been sent to a.s.sure me of this."

"Tell me your dream, mother," cried Zarah, who always addressed by this t.i.tle the parent of her father.

"Come with me into the front room, my child; leave Anna to prepare our pottage of lentiles, and I will tell you my dream," said Hada.s.sah, leading the way into what might, in a European dwelling, have been called the sitting-room. This, with the place which they had just quitted, and two sleeping apartments above, which were reached by a rough stair on the exterior of the dwelling, const.i.tuted all the accommodation of Hada.s.sah's small house, if we except the flat roof, surrounded by a parapet, often used by the ladies as a cool and airy retreat.

Hada.s.sah and her grand-daughter seated themselves in a half-reclining posture upon skins that were spread on the tiled floor; and while Zarah listened with glistening eyes, the Hebrew widow told her dream to the maiden.

"Methought, in the visions of the night--for I s.n.a.t.c.hed a brief hour of repose after our return from the burial--I beheld two women before me.

They were both goodly to look upon, with a strange spiritual beauty not seen on this side of the tomb. The feet of the women rested not on the earth, but they gently floated above it; the air seemed purpled around them, and fragrant with the odour of myrrh. The first woman bore in her hand a scarlet cord, the other a bundle of golden corn.

"'Hada.s.sah,' said the first, 'I am Rahab, of the doomed race of Canaan, yet received as a daughter of Abraham. For the sake of David, born of my line, and for the sake of Him who was the Root of Jesse (Isa. xi.

10) and shall be the Branch (Isa. xi. 1), have pity upon the stranger.'

"And the second woman, who was exceeding fair, spoke to me in like manner: 'Hada.s.sah, I am Ruth, of the guilty race of Moab, yet received as a daughter of Abraham. For the sake of David, born of my line, and for the sake of Him who was the Root of Jesse and shall be the Branch, have pity upon the stranger.' And so the two bright visitants vanished--and I awoke."

"Would that your dream had been sent to Abishai!" exclaimed Zarah; "then might he not through life have borne the brand-mark of Cain!"

"Hark!" cried Hada.s.sah, suddenly; "was that a groan that I heard?"

Zarah had heard the sound also, and was on her feet and at the door before Hada.s.sah had ended the sentence.

"Oh, mother--it is he--the stranger--he is dying!" exclaimed Zarah, trembling as she bent over the form of Lycidas, which lay stretched on the ground, close to the threshold.

The injuries which the young Greek had received from the dagger and the fall, though severe and dangerous, had not proved fatal. The fresh morning air had restored him to consciousness; unable to rise, Lycidas had yet managed to drag himself feebly along for some distance, till, as he reached the nearest dwelling, the strength of the Athenian had utterly failed him, and he had swooned at the door of Hada.s.sah.

"Bear him in--he bleeds!" said Hada.s.sah; and after calling the strong-armed Anna to aid them, the Hebrew ladies themselves carried the senseless form of the stranger into the house, and beyond the curtain-part.i.tion into that back portion of the dwelling described in the beginning of this chapter. For some time undivided attention was given to efforts to restore consciousness to the wounded man.

Hada.s.sah, like many of her countrywomen, had knowledge of the healing art. Zarah brought of the balm of Gilead and reviving wine; Anna dragged into the inner room mats and skins, that the sufferer might have something softer to rest upon than the hard floor. Zarah and the servant then retired, by the order of Hada.s.sah, leaving her to examine and bind up the wounds of Lycidas, which she did with tenderness and skill When all had been done which could be done, Hada.s.sah drew aside the curtain-screen, and rejoined Zarah and Anna in the front apartment, where the latter was engaged in removing the crimson stains left by the wounded Greek on the floor and threshold.

"Go on the road, Anna," said the widow; "carefully efface any marks by which a wounded man could be tracked to my dwelling. No one must know that the stranger is here."

"If Abishai heard of it, even your roof would not protect the youth,"

said Zarah, turning pale at the thought of a repet.i.tion, in the sacred precincts of home, of the horrible scene of the previous night. "Oh, mother, think you that the stranger will live?"

"He may; youth can swim through stormy waters," replied Hada.s.sah; "but--may I be forgiven the inhospitable thought!--I would that the Greek had come to any other house rather than to mine."

"So few visitors ever seek this spot--so few strangers ever pa.s.s it--we lead lives so retired--we can, better than most, conceal a guest,"

observed Zarah.

The brow of Hada.s.sah was clouded still. In that small dwelling, with a fair girl under her care, the widow lady was unwilling to harbour for weeks, or more probably months, a man, and that man a Gentile.

Anxiously she revolved the matter in her mind, but no other course seemed to open before her. She could not be guilty of the cruelty of turning the helpless sufferer out to die.

"On Abishai's account," said Hada.s.sah, "I dare not seek out the friends of the Greek, if friends he have in Jerusalem, and ask them to bear him thence. To do that, after Abishai's murderous attempt on his life, would be to deliver over Miriam's husband to the executioner's sword.

This young man is bound alike by honour and grat.i.tude to preserve silence as to what pa.s.sed by the grave; but there is nothing to prevent him from seeking, and much to induce him to seek, retribution on a would-be a.s.sa.s.sin, who violated the pledge of safety given to the Greek. Would, I repeat, that this stranger had come to any house rather than mine!"

"Mother, remember your dream!" exclaimed Zarah, who, in the secret depths of her heart, did not share Hada.s.sah's regret. Compa.s.sion for the suffering--admiration for the beautiful and brave,--combined to awaken in the maiden strong interest in the fate of the stranger.

Zarah was well pleased that her grandmother's hospitality should be to him some reparation for a deep wrong sustained from one of her family.

"Yes," said Hada.s.sah, thoughtfully; "that dream must have been sent to prepare me for this. The Lord hath given me a work to perform, and He will not let His servant suffer for striving to do His bidding. The wounded stranger, Gentile though he be, needs hospitality, and I dare not refuse it. If the Lord hath guided him to the home of Hada.s.sah, the Lord will send a blessing with him." And trying to stifle her misgivings, the widow lady returned to her guest.

CHAPTER VI.

THE JOURNEY HOME.

Before the sun had risen above the horizon on that day, Judas, son of Mattathias, of the n.o.ble family of the Asmoneans, started on his long homeward journey. He had not re-entered Jerusalem during the night; almost as soon as he, with the a.s.sistance of Joab and Isaac, two of his companions, had filled up with earth the grave of the martyrs, he had skirted the city from the east to the west, and turned his face towards Modin.

It would scarcely have been deemed by any one who might have seen the princely Hebrew ascending the western hill with his quick, firm tread, that the greater part of the preceding night had been spent by him in severe toil, and none in sleep. His soul, filled with a lofty purpose, so mastered the infirmities of the flesh, that the Asmonean seemed to himself scarcely capable of feeling fatigue, and set out, without hesitation, on a journey which would have severely taxed the powers of a strong pedestrian after long uninterrupted repose.

As he reached the highest point of one of these hills which stand round Jerusalem, like guardians of the holy and beautiful city, Judas paused and turned round to take what he felt might be a last look of Zion, over which the sun was about to rise. He gazed on the fair towers, the girdling walls, the sepulchres in the valleys, the temple crowning the height, with that intense love which glows in the bosom of every Hebrew deserving the name, a love in which piety mingles with patriotism, glorious memories with still more glorious hopes. From the Asmonean's lips burst the words in which the Psalmist has embalmed that love for all generations,--_Beautiful for situation, the joy of the whole earth, is Mount Zion, the city of the great King. Mark ye well her bulwarks, consider her palaces; that ye may tell it to the generation following.

Pray for the peace of Jerusalem: they shall prosper that love thee.

Peace be within thy walls, and prosperity within thy palaces. If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget her cunning; if I do not remember thee, let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth_.

Faith was to the Asmonean as the rosy glow preceding the sunrise, which then flushed the eastern sky. His eye rested on the Temple; now desecrated, defiled, abandoned to the Gentile, and he remembered the promise regarding it: _The Lord whom ye seek, shall suddenly come, to His Temple, even the Messenger of the Covenant whom ye delight in_ (Mal. iii. 8). Then the Hebrew's gaze wandered beyond to a fair hill, clothed with verdure, and his faith grasped the promise of G.o.d: _Then shall the Lord go forth ... and His feet shall stand in that day upon the Mount of Olives_ (Zech. xiv. 3, 4). Hope and joy were kindled at the thought. As surely as the hill itself should remain, so surely should a Temple stand on Mount Zion, till the Messiah should appear within it. _G.o.d is not a man, that He should lie; neither the son of man, that He should repent: hath He said, and shall He not do it?_ (Num. xxiii. 19).

"Oh, that the Messiah might come in my day!" exclaimed the Asmonean; "that my eyes might behold the King in His beauty; that my voice might join the united acclamations of Israel, when the Son of David shall be seated on the throne of His fathers, and His enemies shall be made His footstool! That I might see the whole world wors.h.i.+pping in the presence of the Seed of the woman who shall bruise the serpent's head!"

(Gen. iii. 15). The Hebrew grasped his javelin more firmly, and his dark eye dilated with joy and triumph. "But the night is not yet past for Israel," he added, more sadly; "the voice is not yet _heard in the wilderness, Prepare ye the way of the Lord_ (Isa. xl. 8); we may have yet much to do and to suffer ere the Sun of Righteousness arise."

Then a softened expression stole over the features of the Asmonean, as he gazed in another direction, but still with his face turned towards the east. He could not see a white dwelling nestling under the shadow of a hill, but he knew well where it lay, and where she abode to whom he had bidden on that night a long, perhaps a last, farewell. The Asmonean stretched out his hand, and exclaimed, "Oh! Father of the fatherless, guard and bless her! To Thy care I commit the treasure of my soul!" And without trusting himself to linger longer, Judas turned and went on his way.