Front matter (continued 3)

"Not so, my son!" cried Annas hastily. "I forbid it in the name of the holy council; it is not meet for one that is sanctified to the service of Jehovah to consort with them over whom Satan hath gotten the victory. But hold! I hear some one at the door; it may be news of some fresh disturbance, I ordered the captain of the temple police to bring me word should such occur. Enter, I pray thee, Caleb. What is it that hath befallen?"

"A great tumult, my good lords," said the man, bowing himself reverently before them. "The men have wrought many wonderful cures upon the halt, the maimed, and the blind; the whole city is at the doors to see them. They are bringing out their sick and laying them on the stones of the street, crying out that if only the shadow of Peter fall on them they shall be healed."

"This is monstrous!" cried Annas, starting up. "Do thou, Saul of Tarsus, go with this man and see to it that these fellows are put in hold; their shadows will go with them. Thrust them into the common prison, and let the jailer look to it that they escape not. Take with thee a sufficient number for thy security, and accomplish the matter quietly but with all speed. To-morrow we will consider their case."

Saul of Tarsus was already girding himself. "Thy commands, my lord, shall be obeyed," he said, bending his haughty head, "and I rejoice that I am counted worthy to be of service in bringing to naught these workers of iniquity. If it meets with thy approval I shall also put in hold any others whom I shall find engaged in this blasphemous wickedness."

"Go forth, my son," quoth Annas, rolling up his eyes, and spreading abroad his jewelled fingers, "and take with thee a High-Priestly blessing, may it enable thee to prevail gloriously. Deal with the men as thou wilt; only remember that we must be prudent, and that too great zeal in the beginning oftentimes cripples an enterprise which would otherwise have grown mighty and irresistible, therefore temper thy burning zeal with all caution and diligence as befits a truly wise man." He rubbed his hands together with an air of satisfaction as the door closed after the young Pharisee. "A most admirable man for the occasion!" he exclaimed, turning to Caiaphas. "Most admirable! Full of courage, full of determination, withal easy to be controlled; but I would not that he talk much of the matter with any other save ourselves. If he should hear the talk of Nicodemus, Joseph, or Barsabas, I fear me that he might receive an impetus in the wrong direction; and once started, there would be no halfway measures with him. He would speedily develop into another Peter on our hands."

"Dost thou in truth believe that these men are of the devil?"

Annas started, the self-satisfied smile faded; he looked sharply into the worn face before him, at the eyes with their feverish glitter, at the thin, nerveless hands, at the bowed shoulders; then he frowned.

"Thou had best go to thy chamber--" he began irritably, but Caiaphas checked him with an impatient gesture.

"Prate not to me of my chamber! I am sick, yes, but it is a sickness of the soul. Thou dost not know all, I have not told thee; but hear now that my son, my son David, was crucified as a thief at the right hand of the Nazarene." His voice rose almost to a shriek at the last word and he tore at his hair as one in uncontrollable agony.

Annas started to his feet. "Thou art mad!" he cried. "For God's sake, do not shriek forth such foul ravings, lest it come to the ears of them without."

"Nay, I am not mad," said Caiaphas. "If I were mad, I might sometimes forget. Thou knowest how we lost him," he continued, sinking his voice to a husky whisper. "He was stolen by a thief who bred him to his own damnable trade, and who also was crucified. This Stephen, who preaches to the people of the Nazarene, is his son. It was Stephen who taught the woman who was my wife to believe that the Nazarene was the Messiah of Israel. What if it were true! My God, if it were true!"

"Fool!" cried Annas, clenching his hands. "Breathe to another human soul what thou hast told me and I will thrust thee into a dungeon where thou shalt cool thy hot brain to eternity. Wilt thou drag our ancient name in the foul mud of the streets and make it a by-word and a hissing? This fellow Stephen shall die, and that speedily; now look to it that thy tongue is forevermore silent in the matter! Dost thou hear me?"

Caiaphas cowered beneath the murderous eyes of the old man. "It shall be as thou hast said," he faltered weakly. Then he burst into a passion of sobbing like a sick child.

CHAPTER XVII.

IN THE PRISON HOUSE.

It was very dark in the prison, and the straw which littered the earthen floor of the place was damp and filthy. Abu Ben Hesed found a difficulty in breathing the stagnant air, he groaned aloud and beat upon his breast. "Alas!" he sighed, "how have the wicked prevailed against the innocent. We are as birds in the snare of the fowler." The babe in the arms of the woman beside him stirred, then wailed loudly.

"I have no food for him," said the woman plaintively. "Nevertheless he hath the strength to wail for it, thanks be to the Almighty. But how doth the bitter and the sweet always commingle. No sooner is my child restored than I am thrust into this noisome place; for what reason I know not, I but praised him by whose name was the healing wrought."

"Thinkest thou not that he who hath restored thy babe is able likewise to deliver thee from prison?" said a deep voice from out the gloom.

The woman drew a little nearer to Abu Ben Hesed. "Who is it that speaks?" she whispered timidly, while the child again wailed loudly.

Ben Hesed turned his piercing gaze toward the place from whence the voice had come. He thought he could distinguish a number of dark figures huddled together in one corner. "Who are our companions in this misery?" he asked.

"We are the apostles of the Lord Jesus, in whose name we are able to heal them that are sick. By the command of the chief priests are we thrust into this place; the officers who seized us are well known unto us. But praises be to the Eternal One that we are accounted worthy to do the works which the Lord did, and to be partakers of his sufferings. For unto us shall be also a share in his glory which he hath with the Father. But how is it that ye are come with us into this place?"

"I am from the desert," answered Ben Hesed. "As I journeyed I found by the wayside this woman, who had essayed to bring her babe to Jerusalem for healing. When I perceived that she could go no further by reason of her weariness, I set her upon my own beast and fetched her into the city. As we waited, hemmed in on every side by the multitude, it seemed to us that the child was dead, therefore I bore her away a little from out the throng, because the spirit was well nigh gone out of her by reason of her grief. Then it was that a little lad called Seth, brought unto us a young man, who laid his hands on the twain and healed them. I saw it with mine own eyes as did they that were with me, and we all cried aloud and praised God for his mercy, the woman also with a voice of thanksgiving. But as we rejoiced, there came a certain man who commanded us to be silent. 'Shall I be silent,' I answered him, 'when mine eyes have seen wondrous things?' Then I bade him begone, for it is not my custom to hear or to heed commands from any, since I am lord in mine own land. But even as I spoke I was seized on a sudden from behind by them that bound me and haled me away hither, together with the woman. For this also shall vengeance overtake the man, for I will neither eat bread nor drink wine till I have accomplished my wrath upon mine enemy. I, Ben Hesed, have spoken it."

"Nay, my brother," said another voice, "I will show thee a more excellent way. The Lord Jesus, when he was betrayed into the hands of cruel men--who also accomplished their desires upon him, reviling him, beating him, and at last crucifying him--though he was endued with all power from on high, offered no resistance; even as it is written by the prophet Isaiah, 'He was despised and rejected of men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief; he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities; the chastisement of our peace was upon him and with his stripes we are healed. He was brought as a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers is dumb, so he opened not his mouth.' If the holy Jesus, Lord of all the heavens, could endure such suffering with patience, is it meet for sinful man to seek for vengeance?"

Ben Hesed listened attentively. "I would hear more of this man Jesus," he said. "I once saw him in Jerusalem. He seemed to me a man, even as others, though it was told me that he had the power to heal them that were afflicted with diseases."

Then they told him all the story of Jesus of Nazareth; and when they spoke of his awful death on the cross, the old man wept aloud.

"Would to God that I had known it!" he cried; "I would have come with my tribe like a swift whirlwind from out the desert, and would have snatched him from the hand of the oppressor. In the desert God reigns."

"Doth not God reign over all the earth, for he made it?" cried Peter. "Yet he suffered these things so to be; it was his will concerning him, as also our Lord told us many times before his death, yet because of our blindness we heeded him not. Yea, I even denied that I knew him, in his extremity; yet he forgave me, as also he will forgive and save all that come unto him."

"How can he forgive when he is dead?" said the woman sadly. "Behold there is no hope in the grave; they that go down unto death return not for either loving or forgiving, though we weep tears of blood in our anguish."

"Hast thou not heard," cried Peter in amaze, "how that the grave could not hold him? On the third day he became alive again, and we all saw him and knew by many infallible proofs that it was he and no other. And as he arose from among the dead, even so shall every one that believeth on him also become alive again. Death is swallowed up in victory. After many days, with our own eyes did we behold the heavens receive him. Yet is he even now with us to help and to comfort, and shall be alway even unto the end."

While he yet spake, lo! all the place became light about them, and they saw that the doors of the prison stood wide open; and while they marvelled at the sight, a man in bright raiment stood before them and said:

"Go, stand and speak in the temple all the words of this life!"

And they went forth, all of them, into the night; but the keepers of the prison continued to stand before the doors, neither seeing nor hearing what had happened, for their eyes were holden by the angel.

Ben Hesed was baptized in that same hour, and so likewise was the woman, because they believed what the men had told them concerning Jesus of Nazareth; and they tarried for the night at the house of John. But in the morning very early the Apostles went into the temple that they might speak to the people, even as the angel had bidden them.

About the third hour of the day at the bidding of Annas came the members of the Sanhedrim, with the chief doctors of the law, and all the great rabbis that were at Jerusalem, that they might take council together concerning them which Saul had made fast in the prison. And when Annas had spoken before them at length concerning the matter, and with great power and subtilty had convinced the greater part of them that these men were of the devil, and that upon the Senate thus convened rested the honor and safety of Israel, he commanded that the prisoners should be brought. And the officers went as they were bidden, and when they were come to the prison they asked of them that stood on guard before the door, whether the prisoners had been troublesome during the night.

"We heard them speaking one to another about the third watch," the officer of the guard made answer. "But there has been neither sound nor motion from within for many hours; they sleep heavily and late."

"They must even awake now, that they may appear before the council. Fetch them out at once, for I must make haste."

Then the officer of the guard, whose name was Chilion, opened the door of the prison and went in. "Awake, sluggards!" he cried loudly, "and come forth."

But when there was yet neither voice nor motion, he drew his sword and thrust it in among the heaps of mouldy straw. "If ye will not come forth peaceably," he said, "then shall I fetch thee forth at the point of the sword." But no shriek of pain answered the weapon. So he strode forth into the light. "Fetch hither a torch," he roared, "there is the darkness of the pit within, and the rascals make me no answer."

So they made haste and fetched lights, and they searched the prison with all diligence. The prisoners were gone.

"Thou hast been drunken in the night and so have the fellows eluded thee," said Caleb, the chief of the temple police, when he had satisfied himself that the men had indeed made good their escape. "For this shalt thou answer with a scourging."

"Thou liest, man; I have neither eaten bread nor tasted wine during the night," cried Chilion, choking with rage, "and these shall bear me witness. We have stood continually before the doors, even as thou didst find us; it is from within that they have gotten away."

Then they again examined the floor and the walls of the prison; but there was no place where so much as a mouse could have crept through.

"I am undone!" cried Chilion, rending his clothes, "if they be not found. 'Twas by their magic powers that they have done this thing. Thinkest thou that men who can open the eyes of the blind, cannot also open the doors of a prison house?"

So Caleb returned unto the council; and when he had made obeisance before them, he said, "I am most unhappy, my lords, in that I am the bearer of evil tidings; the prisoners whom I was sent to fetch have somehow made good their escape during the night."

"How is this?" cried Annas angrily. "Who guarded the prison?"

"The detachment of Chilion, with Chilion himself in command, my lord. The prison was shut with all safety, and the keepers found we standing without before the doors; but when we had opened, there was no man within."

"A most singular story this, my lord," remarked Alexander sarcastically. "It will doubtless transpire that the fellows reasoned with the keepers during the night watches, and so converted them from their duty to their own interests; this do they with all men."

"The guard, Chilion, hath been bribed," suggested another. "Fetch him hither, and try the effect of a scourging. A bleeding back createth an honest tongue oftentimes when nothing else will suffice."

But as they thus talked together, Chilion himself knocked at the door; and when he was admitted, he cried out before them all that he was innocent of any failure in his duty; he was, moreover, ready to swear to the truth of this upon the high altar of the temple, than which there was no oath more sacred. "As for the men whom ye put in prison," he added, "they are at this moment standing in the temple teaching the people!"

CHAPTER XVIII.

"WHOSE WE ARE AND WHOM WE SERVE.

"May I advise, my lord, that these men be at once apprehended and brought hither?" The voice was that of Saul of Tarsus; he had arisen in his place, and the eyes of all were fixed upon him. "We shall then be able to examine them of the truth of this man's statements. It would seem most necessary that our prisons be made secure, since I opine that we shall have need of them before we have seen an end to this matter."

"It is well said," murmured several who were high in authority, "let them be fetched with all speed; we will not go hence until we have seen them."

So Annas commanded the officers, "Fetch hither the men, but without show of violence, for they have a great following among the people. A popular enthusiasm," he added, "when bred at the wrong moment and on the wrong subject, is most disastrous; though what it may accomplish when properly directed, those of you who were in the city at the time of the execution of the man from Galilee will remember. The populace must be with us now as they were then."

Caleb therefore with a chosen few of his men sought the temple; and there they found a great multitude assembled in Solomon's porch, listening to the apostles who spoke to them of Jesus, the crucified carpenter of Galilee. Him they declared boldly to be the Prince of Israel; assuring the people that though he had been rejected by them and cruelly slain, yet was he able to save them from out the sin and misery of their present lives, and furthermore give them everlasting life in place of death. So that for them that believed there was now no further terror in the grave, since he had promised and was able to raise their corrupt bodies into the likeness of his own glorious body. And all the people heard their words with joy; and they cried aloud to the Crucified One to forgive them their sins and to remember his promises to them also.

When the chief captain of the temple police was seen to approach stealthily, a man whose long, silvery beard descended upon his breast, and in whose eyes burned the fire of desert suns cried out: "Seest thou these men? They are even as the leopard of the mountain which steals upon his prey unaware. Look to it now that they do the men of God no violence!"

And the people answered with a great shout, "Let us stone them forthwith; if they be dead they will trouble us no more!" And Caleb feared exceedingly lest they should lay hands upon him; but being a discreet man and in pursuit of his duty furthermore, he made a bold stand before them.

"Ye men of Israel," he cried, "there is no violence intended these men, if they will but come with me peaceably. The council and senate of the people of Israel would hear them of these matters whereof they are now preaching, and for this purpose have they even now assembled themselves together. Let the apostles go, I pray ye, that those in high places may also receive the Gospel." This he said, not because he himself believed, but because he was a man of wisdom, and knew that unless he could placate the multitude, great harm might come not only to himself but to the senate also.

"Should these men once accuse the chief priests of the murder of the Nazarene," he said within himself, "the mob would immediately hale them forth from the council chamber and tear them limb from limb." And for a moment he was half minded to send word to the citadel asking for a detachment of Roman soldiers, but he bethought himself that this would only betray his fear. So he again spoke, and this time in the ear of Peter.

"I beseech thee, good Rabbi," he said, with apparent humility, "that thou wilt appease the people, since thou art obeyed of them; and I, despite mine office, have no authority at all over them."

"Call not thou me good, who denied the Lord of Glory," answered Peter. "I will go with thee." Then he beckoned with his hand unto the multitude that they should pay him heed, and when they were silent, expecting that he would command them concerning the officers, he said: "Ye men of Israel, this Jesus, whom we preach unto you, while he was yet alive, commanded that they which would follow him should do no evil to any man. Yea, he declared that if a man should smite his neighbor on the cheek, that the smitten one should also suffer his enemy to smite again without resistance or anger; and when, on the night before his death, the chief priests sent a company of men armed with swords and staves for to seize him, I was filled with indignation and smote the high priest's servant with the sword, so that his ear was severed from his head; but the Lord rebuked me, and bade me put up my sword into its place, then he reached forth his hand and touched the wounded man and healed him. Furthermore, ye remember how that afterward, when he was mocked and scourged and spit upon by his enemies, he opened not his mouth with revilings, but bore all with patience, though there remained within his call more than twelve legions of angels, armed with the fiery swords of heaven. If then ye would follow him on whom ye have believed, give place to wrath and conduct yourselves peaceably. For ye may have confidence that the Lord Christ, whose we are and whom we serve, will not suffer us to be tried above that we can bear, but will with the necessity provide a way of escape."

And when the people heard these words, they suffered the apostles to go away with the officers. But Ben Hesed, and with him others of them that were strong-hearted, followed hard after, and waited near the door of the council chamber.

"For," said Ben Hesed grimly, "it is also written concerning the Lord, 'With the merciful thou wilt show thyself merciful, and with the froward thou wilt show thyself froward. The Lord will save the afflicted people, but he will bring down high looks,' and further, 'He teacheth my hands to war, so that a bow of steel is broken by my arms; I have pursued mine enemies, and overtaken them, neither did I turn again till they were consumed.'"

And when Caleb perceived that the men were even at the doors, he wrote upon a tablet, saying: "Be discreet, I pray thee, in thy dealings with these apostles, for there be them without which are able to make of thee and of all that are within, even as the small dust of the balance." And this he caused to be given to Annas privily.

When Annas had read these words, his heart burned like a live coal within him. Yet was his brow calm and unruffled as he fixed his keen eyes on the men who stood humbly enough in the presence of that imposing assembly. "Again hath it become necessary to rebuke you openly because of your blasphemous conduct. Stiff-necked and ignorant fishermen, how is it that ye do thus persist in doing the things which work only for unrighteousness? Did not we straightly command you that ye should not teach in this name? And, behold, ye have filled Jerusalem with your doctrine, and intend to bring the blood of the slain Nazarene upon us."

"We ought to obey God rather than man," affirmed Peter simply.

Annas trembled with his pent up anger, but he still spoke with calmness. "This have ye before declared as the reason and excuse of your disobedience to this most holy council of the People of Israel. Dost thou think then that the God of our fathers speaks no longer save to fisher folk, publicans and malefactors? Nay, for upon us doth rest the power of God and the wisdom of God; in that we would defend from scurrilous and wicked hands the faith which we have kept unsullied from the days of our father Abraham even until now."

"We have but one answer to make to this," said John, looking squarely into the furious eyes of the man who had spoken, "and it is this. The God of our fathers raised up Jesus, whom ye slew and hanged on a tree. Him hath God exalted with his right hand to be a Prince and a Saviour, that he might give repentance to Israel and forgiveness of sins. And we are his witnesses of these things; and so is also the Holy Spirit, whom God hath given to them that obey him."

"Hearest thou these sayings?" cried Annas, starting to his feet. "What is this else but foul blasphemy? It is poison of this kind that these fellows spread industriously amongst the people day by day. The Nazarene, a prince and saviour forsooth, and we his murderers! If the people once come to believe this, what shall come to pass? We shall be overthrown and the whole nation given over to blasphemy and idolatry."

"We shall be doing God service if we immediately put these to death," said Jochanan. "It must needs be done, the public weal demands it."

"I am of the same mind," exclaimed Alexander.

"And I--and I!" shouted half a score of voices.

"Let them be stoned!"

"Give them over to the Romans!"

"I beseech your indulgence, my good lords!" interrupted a grave deep voice from the inner circle of the assembly, "that ye may grant a brief hearing to one, who because he is still somewhat unfamiliar with these new doctrines, perchance looks upon them from a slightly different standpoint from those of you who have patiently borne the heat and burden of the day."

"Gamaliel! Gamaliel!" cried several voices. "Let us hear what he hath to say."

The speaker was a man of powerful physique, and of calm and dignified bearing. As he looked keenly about over the excited assemblage with an air of conscious authority, every eye was fixed upon him with grave attention. "May I request," he continued when the tumult of excited voices had died away into silence, "that the persons under discussion be put forth for a little space."

This command being obeyed with alacrity by the underlings of Caleb, the speaker resumed in a deep measured voice. "As I have listened to the sayings of these men," he said, "my mind hath sought the past, for it is in the experiences of years gone by that man hath ever found the best council for the exigencies of the present. To adopt excessive measures for the disruption of this new sect would, in my opinion, be not only unwise in the present disturbed state of the populace, but actually dangerous. I have mingled with the multitude and I know that whereof I speak; therefore take heed to yourselves what ye intend to do as touching these men. Turning, as I have suggested, to the annals of the past, we find that before these days there rose up a certain Theudas, boasting himself to be somebody, to whom a number of men, about four hundred, joined themselves. After a time he was slain in a brawl, and all who believed on him were speedily scattered and brought to naught. Again, somewhat later appeared Judas, a Galilean, in the days of the taxing, and drew away much people after him; he also perished, and those who had obeyed him were dispersed. So now I say unto you, refrain from these men and let them alone, for if this preaching and healing which they do be of men it will speedily come to naught. But if, on the other hand, it be of God, ye cannot overthow it, lest haply ye be found to fight against God."

A deep murmur of approval followed these words, after which a number of the more influential ones expressed themselves as in favor of adopting the safe and conservative course recommended by the wise doctor of the laws who had spoken.

Presently, when all had been said, Annas arose and looked about him. In the hush that followed, the tumult of the surging multitudes without could be distinctly heard.

"Though I believe that these men and their works are neither of man nor of God, but of the devil," he began, his voice shaking with suppressed excitement, "yet is the devil ever watchful of his own, and the populace are not to be trifled with at the present moment; therefore do I agree with the worshipful Gamaliel in thinking that the safe course for ourselves and for the cause which we serve will be, as he hath suggested, to let the men be for the present. I am not without hope of interesting Herod in the matter. Let it come to his ears once that these fellows are preaching to the people that their Master is shortly coming back to establish his throne in Jerusalem--as I can bring witnesses to testify--and he will speedily take care of them that say such things. I will therefore command that the men be scourged in our presence, which may prove a wholesome corrective to their mistaken zeal; after that they shall be released."

This accordingly was done, the dignitaries looking on calmly whilst the scourging was administered by the underlings of the temple police.

When the sickening sound of the blows had at length ceased, Annas again spoke. "There is somewhat that ye have still to answer for," he said. "How is it that ye made good your escape from the prison? These your guards declare that they stood continually before the doors from the evening when ye were incarcerated even until the morning."

The face of John glowed with a celestial light. "The angel of the Lord, whose we are and whom we serve, came and fetched us out, and the eyes of the keepers were holden that they wist not when we went by them."

Annas eyed the speaker with a mocking smile. "How is it," he said slowly, his eyes lingering with manifest satisfaction upon the crimson marks of the scourging, "that he who delivered fhee from the prison house, was not able also to deliver thee from the hands of them that beat thee?"

"We were delivered from the prison that we might speak to the people of him who is able to save them from their sins," answered John. Then he also smiled, but it was as an angel might have smiled, on whom the King immortal, invisible, had conferred some high and heavenly boon. "The servant is not above his Lord," he said, "and if we suffer with him, we shall also reign with him; he hath gone to prepare a place for us, that where he is, there we may be also."

Then Annas rose in his wrath. "Let what ye have received at our hands serve to remind you that ye are forbidden to speak the name of the crucified Galilean in Jerusalem. Further disobedience shall meet with a punishment to which this shall be as nothing." Then were the apostles thrust out from the council chamber; and they departed, rejoicing greatly that they were counted worthy to suffer shame for his name. And daily in the temple and in every house where dwelt them that believed, they ceased not to teach and preach Jesus Christ.

CHAPTER XIX.

IN THE SHADOW OF THE WALL.

"Then thou wilt not go with me this morning?"

"Nay, I must not; this morning I am to learn how to spin. The mother of Jesus will teach me; afterward I shall make for thee a tunic. Now thou seest what a thing it is to have eyes." Anat looked down at the small hands which lay folded in her lap. "These," she continued, spreading out the slender brown fingers, "have hitherto been as idle as the hands of a princess, but the lady Mary says that they must learn many things, if with them I would serve him that healed me."

Seth looked half regretfully into the eager face. "Then we shall no more dwell by ourselves as heretofore? Hast thou forgotten the desert?"

"I have not forgotten, but I would like to stay here."

"And the dromedary?"

"Thou must find it. It was not I who would leave it without in the hands of a stranger. The lord of the desert is just in requiring it at thy hands."

The lad turned away. "Be it so," he cried angrily. "Till I have found it, thou wilt see my face no more; if that be never, why then----"

"Seth, Seth! Stay a moment, my brother! do not leave me so!" But he was gone, and without turning his head.

"How can I find the beast?" he muttered to himself crossly, as he plunged into the labyrinth of narrow streets. "I have asked everywhere for the man Gestas, no one knows him; as for the white dromedary, men look at me as if I were a witless fool when I speak of it. If now I were in Egypt, I should offer a libation to Ptah Hotep, or fetch a garland to the temple of the sacred bull, then might I receive wisdom; if I pray to the gods of this land, how will they heed me who am an alien?" At this point in his meditation the lad flung himself down in the shadow of an archway, his eyes following idly the darting flight of the sparrows overhead; something in their noisy crying brought back the memory of the day when he bent half distracted over the unconscious form of Anat. "There is a God who can hear somewhere," he said half aloud. "For he both heard and answered the man who healed Anat; yet is it a great thing to heal blindness, I dare not ask him to help me find a beast of burden. Is there not some smaller god who cares for common things? 'Not a sparrow falleth to the ground without your Father.'" Where had he heard those words? It was John who had spoken them after the scourging before the council. "That means his father, not mine;" he went on meditatively, "I am not a Jew. Yet are there sparrows in Egypt also; if I pray to this God, he will not I suppose strike me dead; I will try and see what comes of it. God of this land--Jesus--if that be thy name! I am as thou seest an Egyptian, and I know not what offering is pleasing unto thee; and if I knew I could not provide it, for I am poorer than yonder sparrow. Yet if it be true that thou dost care for such, help me also, I pray thee, to find the white dromedary, which is justly required at my hands by the lord of the desert."

When he had prayed thus, a vague comfort stole into his heart; he opened his eyes and looking down the street, saw coming toward him two men. One of them he instantly recognized as the man in whose keeping he had left the dromedary; with a little cry of joy he started to his feet, but shrank back again into the archway, and seeing a broken place in the wall, he squeezed himself into it and stood motionless. "I will follow after them when they have passed by," he thought within himself. "It may be that so I shall come upon the beast unawares; if he sees me, it will not come to pass."

But the two paused beneath the archway, and finally sat down on the stones, neither of them noticing the motionless figure in the black shadow of the broken wall.

"Give me thy flask if thou hast in it a swallow of wine; I am parched with the heat," said the one who was called Gestas.

"I have no wine," replied the other; "water is better."

"Pah!" grunted Gestas testily, motioning away the proffered flask. "I do not drink water; 'tis fit only for the beasts."

"Thou art assuredly right, good friend; the best of the wine is not too good for thee. Do but a trifling service for me, and thou shalt not lack for the necessary gold."

"What wouldst thou?"

The Jew hesitated for a moment as if he scarcely knew how to proceed. Seth cautiously peered out from his hidden nook; he saw that the man was well dressed and had, moreover, an air of importance. He listened eagerly for his next words.

"Thou art the man who witnessed before Pilate against the malefactors, Dumachus and Titus, who afterward suffered with the Nazarene."

Gestas started visibly, he drew away a little and fixed his small twinkling eyes on his companion with a mixture of bravado and apprehension.

"What if I be?" he said at length. "I was discharged by the governor with but twenty stripes."

"Ay, but since then thou hast also--" here the speaker lowered his voice so that Seth lost what followed.

Gestas sprang to his feet with a great oath, and half drew his knife. "Thou knowest too much by half," he cried; "I am minded to send thee where thou mayest prate of this to the shades."

"Peace, braggart!" said his companion, a shade of contempt in his voice. "I am not unarmed. But thou canst see that had I spoken the word thou wouldst even now be rotting without the walls. I did not choose, because--thou canst serve me. Sit down and listen."

Gestas obeyed. "It is murder, I suppose," he said sullenly. "I know you all, you rich men! You force us poor devils to accomplish your black deeds, and dole out to us a scanty pittance from your hoarded gold; but if there be other recompense, such as the scourge or the cross, it is ours without grudging. Thirty pieces of silver they paid for the Nazarene; I know, for I saw it."

"What if it be thirty pieces of gold this time?" said the Jew softly. "The Iscariot was an ignorant Galilean; he was satisfied with the silver. It was enough," he added with a shrug, "for he hanged himself immediately thereafter because of his remorse. Now thou wouldst not do that, I dare venture?"

"I? Never! Else I had been dead a score of times already. But the matter in hand, what is it? I make no bargain, understand, till I know."

"'Tis simple enough--and--safe. Only the disposal of a man without family, and--yes--without friends. He is moreover blood-guilty; his removal is therefore lawful."

"Why then dost thou----"

"Why do I not perform the deed myself? A proper question; thou hast understanding. It is--most sapient Gestas--not my affair. I represent another; that other is not in a position to avenge himself personally, nevertheless he will be avenged. Wilt thou undertake this--for thirty pieces of gold?"

"Ten pieces now--thirty afterward, and I will do it."

"Say five now!"

"Nay, ten; I have no mind to risk my life for a pittance."

The other produced his wallet, albeit with some show of reluctance, and passed it into the hand of Gestas. "There are just ten pieces within," he remarked. "Thou mayest count them."

Gestas fumbled over the coins deliberately, counting them in a sibilant whisper. "One--two--three--four--five--six--seven--eight--nine--ten. Yes ten--and a bit of silver." Then he lifted the pouch to the light and looked at it critically; "I will keep this also--and the silver," he added with a knowing leer.

"Of course, keep that also," said his companion, eying him with an inscrutable smile. "But I have not told thee the man's name. His head must thou deliver to me this very night at midnight, if thou wouldst receive the thirty pieces. It is known to me where thou art encamped with thy followers."

"I make no secret of that," said Gestas with a boastful laugh. "There is good water for our beasts in the valley of Hinnom, and it is not too far from the highway. If therefore thou wilt be in waiting just without the Jaffa gate, the head shall be delivered into thy hand at the hour named; if not to-night, why then to-morrow night; one must have time to snare the bird. But thou hast not yet told me the name."

"True; well then listen!" leaning forward, the Jew whispered for a little space into the ear of Gestas, who nodded twice or thrice as if he understood.

"I know the man," he said. "No one better; he should by right be about another business," then he laughed aloud as if something afforded him much secret amusement. "I have done for the father, I am once avenged; now I will be twice avenged, which is better. I know also how to lure him into a safe place. Thou wilt not fail with the thirty pieces?"

"I swear by the Temple that I will not fail."

"Good! Now there is another matter; I have in my camp a dromedary of great swiftness which I wish to dispose of at a fair price; the animal is young, docile, well trained; it is moreover of a white color; I have never seen the like. I bought the beast of a caravan and paid for it a great sum."

"No doubt," replied his companion suavely; "but let us first finish the matter in hand. One thing at a time, and diligently done, maketh a well ordered life," he continued piously. "So then I leave the affair in thy hands."

"Thou mayest trust me!" cried Gestas with a great laugh; he rose as he spoke and brought down his broad palm on the other man's shoulder with a sounding thwack. "Thou hast made no mistake in putting the matter into my hands, it will--" here he stopped short and stared fixedly into the shadow of the arch. "Body of Jove!" he exclaimed. "It seems that we are not alone!" And reaching forward, he grasped the wretched Seth by the shoulder and dragged him forth into the sunlight.

"What wast thou doing there, thou devil's imp? Nay, but thou shalt answer dearly for this."

But Seth had not shifted for himself all his thirteen years of life for naught. He instantly perceived that the man did not recognize him; rubbing his eyes stupidly, he stammered out something about sleeping soundly. Then he stretched out his hand toward the Jew who was regarding him suspiciously from under his bent brows, and whined out a petition for alms.

"Wilt thou that I give thee a gold piece?" said Gestas in the Greek tongue.

Seth regarded him blankly. "I do not understand, honored sir," he said humbly.

The companion of Gestas looked relieved. "It is safe enough if the beggar understood us not," he said. "Best take him along with you and make him secure till afterward; then release him."

"It may be that he doth not understand," rejoined Gestas, staring fixedly at the lad with his fierce red eyes; "yet there is but one kind of a man who can be trusted to tell no tales, and that is a dead man. All languages are alike to the tongue that hath ceased to move; any other tongue is to be feared."

The other shrugged his shoulders indifferently. "Ah well, do with him as thou wilt; life can be nothing to such as he. Only take him away. Till the hour and place of our agreement, farewell!" and turning he walked rapidly away, without once looking behind him.

For an instant Seth meditated flight; but the burly figure of Gestas was planted directly in front of him; to elude him would be impossible. Raising his eyes he saw the brown head and bright eyes of a sparrow, perched securely upon the ledge of the arch above him; the little creature was regarding the scene with apparent curiosity. Presently with a wild cry it darted away to join its fellows. The lad followed its flight with envious eyes, and for the second time he remembered the strange words of John, "Not a sparrow falleth to the ground without your Father." Again he prayed to the unknown God who minded even the little wild things of the air, and as before he was comforted.

Gestas was evidently considering the situation with care, for he continued to stand silent before his prisoner, his arms akimbo, his small savage eyes riveted upon the figure before him. "Wouldst thou that I release thee?" he asked suddenly in the Greek tongue.

"If it please thee, good sir," responded Seth, quite off his guard.

Gestas smiled evilly. "It doth not please me, boy. Now march before me--so. Remember that I have in my hand a knife." And grasping the boy by the shoulders, he shoved him with a kind of terrible gentleness into the street.

Like one in a dream the lad walked before his captor. From time to time he looked wildly about in the vain hope of rescue, but the few passers-by went about their business with unseeing eyes, and an occasional prick of the knife from behind warned him that instant death awaited him should he venture to cry out. At length they had passed quite out of the city; here Gestas paused for a moment, and seeing that no one was by, he proceeded to bind the lad's hands securely behind his back.

"Thou art such a proper liar," he remarked with a grin, "that I am minded to leave thee alive for a while longer." Seth made no reply, nor did he cry out when Gestas playfully thrust the knife within a hair's breadth of his throat.

"If I must die," he thought, "I will at least die like a man." Then he remembered Anat sitting happily at her spinning at the feet of the gentle Mary; the tears rose to his eyes and brimming over rolled in great drops down his brown cheeks. He shook them off valiantly. "Tears do not become a man," he said to himself sternly.

"Come, come, my lad," cried Gestas, "my business requireth haste as well as diligence. We must be getting on." Then feeling very merry indeed, he put up his knife and fetched out his newly-acquired pouch; shaking it so that all the gold pieces within clinked musically, he strode along, chanting a pagan rhyme of Bacchus and the pleasures of the vine.

After a time they reached one of the narrow denies which wind between the hills on either side of the Valley of Hinnom, and here they presently came upon the encampment, cunningly placed within a copse of low-growing trees on the edge of a stream.

Half a score of men were scattered about upon the greensward, some of them eating and drinking, others playing at dice, and others still stretched out at full length in the shade asleep.

The arrival of Gestas and his prisoner was greeted with a shout of laughter. "Ha! our worthy chief hath made a notable capture," cried one, sauntering up to Seth and looking down at him. "A mighty man of valor is he truly to accomplish the overthrow of such as this. How many bags of gold didst thou take from him?"

Gestas winked significantly. "I shall take three, if the gods prosper me," he replied; then he bound the lad's ankles together, and bidding the man keep an eye upon the prisoner, he threw himself down upon the ground and demanded food and drink. Two or three others gathered about him, and to these he talked rapidly in low tones as he ate; but nothing of what was being said reached the ears of Seth, who was beginning to suffer intense agony from the tightness of the cords with which his wrists and ankles were bound.

He ventured at length to speak of this to the man who had been detailed to watch him; his guard good-naturedly loosened the bonds, then relapsed into a doze, which presently deepened into a heavy sleep.

As the hours crept slowly by, Seth worked cautiously and unceasingly to loosen further the cords at his wrists. Towards evening he found to his intense joy that his hands were free. No one noticed him; the man at his feet still slept heavily; and after awhile he ventured stealthily to undo the thongs which bound his feet together; then he sat motionless, not daring to stir till the shadows should deepen.

As evening drew on, Gestas accompanied by two of the other men left the camp; he cast a glance in the direction of the lad as he passed by him, and hesitated for a moment as if he were minded to examine his bonds, but finally went his way. No sooner had he disappeared, than the lad crept away among the trees and bushes; before many minutes he had reached the edge of the thicket, here he paused breathlessly to listen, then rising to his feet, ran like the wind in the direction of the city.

"I must find Ben Hesed," he said. "He will know what to do."

CHAPTER XX.

WITHOUT THE JAFFA GATE.

The sunset hour was always a time of peace and peculiar joy in the house of John. The toils and dangers of the day being well over, the family were wont to gather upon the housetop, there to talk over what had happened during the hours that were passed. The golden glories of the dying day served to bring to their minds, each recurring evening, that place beyond the toils and sorrows of earth which their Lord had gone to prepare, and toward which each day's journey was swiftly hurrying them. Here the mother of Jesus sat enshrined in saintly peace; here also were John and Peter with the other apostles; Anna, the wife of Caiaphas, Stephen, and of late the black-eyed Egyptian maiden, together with many others who came to them for help, instruction, or healing. The number of such homes was daily increasing in Jerusalem; yet it was at this door, perhaps more often than at any other, that wretched humanity knocked for admittance, and admittance was always granted. For to these had been committed the ministry of the ascended Christ, with all that this signified of power and of blessing.

To-night into their midst came Ben Hesed, to talk once more with the apostles concerning the Crucified One. He brought with him the scrolls of the Prophecies, for he was troubled about certain points therein.

"How is it," he said, "that it is written, 'Accursed be every one that hangeth upon the tree?' Surely God's Anointed could not be accursed."

"Dost thou doubt concerning him already?" asked Peter sternly.

"Nay, I doubt not, man; my spirit witnesseth within me that the thing is true. But I would fain be able to speak convincingly to them which believe not, when I shall have returned into the wilderness. It is not granted to every one to behold the angel of deliverance."

"Thou hast spoken wisely, who art wise," said John gently. "The young man Stephen doth without ceasing make study of that which hath been written aforetime concerning the Christ. Yea, the spirit also hath revealed to him many things which have been hid from the eyes of the wise; and this to our profit who are sorely beset with the duties of our ministry. Read, I beseech thee, my brother, from the scroll which thou hast prepared."

"Concerning him which hath been hanged, it is written in the law thus," said Stephen, who a little apart from the others had been poring in silence over a number of parchments. "'If a man have committed a sin worthy of death, and he be put to death, and thou hang him upon a tree. His body shall not remain all night upon the tree, but thou shalt surely bury him that day; for he that is hanged is accursed of God. That thy land be not defiled which the Lord thy God giveth thee for an inheritance.'

"But and if a sinless and holy man be put to death by false accusation, how is it that he is accursed? Herein is a great mystery, which as yet we see only in part, nor indeed can it be apprehended of mortals, that God gave his only begotten Son, not only that he should live amongst us a holy and sinless life, but that he should yield up that life in all meekness at the hands of his enemies. This also being the will of the Father concerning him; as he himself said, and as the voice of many prophets declare--who being dead yet speak to us in the words of the scripture. Are we not every one accursed, for we have sinned in the sight of God; and he, the sinless one, hath through the infinite compassion of the Father become accursed in our place. Even as it is written by the hand of the prophet Isaiah, 'He was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities, the chastisement of our peace was upon him and with his stripes we are healed.'

"And behold these sayings--'I gave my back to the smiters, and my cheeks to them that plucked off the hair: I hid not my face from shame and from spitting'--'The assembly of the wicked have closed in upon me, they pierced my hands and my feet'--'They parted my garments among them, and cast lots upon my vesture'--'They gave me also gall for my meat, and in my thirst they gave me vinegar to drink'--'I became a reproach unto them, when they looked upon me they wagged their heads.' And this, 'his visage was so marred more than any man, and his form more than the sons of men'--'He was despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief; and we hid as it were our faces from him'--'He was taken from prison and from judgment and who shall declare his generation, for he was cut off out of the land of the living, for the transgression of my people was he stricken'--'And he made his grave with the wicked and with the rich in his death.'

"All these sayings I found concerning him," continued the young man gravely, "written many generations before his birth; they might have been writ yesterday by one who witnessed his death. Also by the hand of the prophet Daniel is this: 'And after three score and two weeks shall Messiah be cut off, but not for himself, and the people of the prince that shall come shall destroy the city and the sanctuary; and the end thereof shall be as a flood, and unto the end of the war desolations are determined.'"

"The end is yet to come," said Ben Hesed, involuntarily clenching his strong hands and looking toward the walls of the mighty temple, which shone white and mystical in the soft light of the rising moon.

"He himself foretold all that hath happened," said John sorrowfully, "and what is yet to come; how that he should be delivered up to the Romans, and should be mocked and spitefully entreated, spitted upon, scourged and crucified. It lay heavily upon him so that even he, who walked ever in the light of God, was exceeding sorrowful; and when he looked to us for sympathy that last awful night, we--slept. God forgive us!"

"He hath forgiven us all things," said Peter. "He bore our sins in his own body on the tree. For the love of him, shall we not gladly suffer what shall yet befall us? for he told us plainly that the world would hate us, even as it hated him; that we also should be persecuted, scourged, and put to death. Yet how soon will all be past, and then we shall go to him."

In the silence which followed these words a loud knocking was heard at the outer gate of the courtyard. Stephen arose quietly from his place and descended the stair. When he had opened the door, he saw standing in the street a man. He was meanly clad, as Stephen could see by the dim light; therefore his voice was more gentle than usual as he said:--

"What wilt thou, friend?"

"Is there here a young man called Stephen?"

"I am he; wilt thou enter?"

The man shuffled uneasily on his feet, then looked furtively up and down the street. "There be a sick man who hath need of thee for healing and strong words of thy faith," he said at length, fixing his eyes upon Stephen.

"Wouldst thou not rather inquire for one of the twelve?"

"Nay, it was for one Stephen, a Greek, I was bidden to ask. The man I have spoken of is also a Greek, and would not ask for healing at the hands of a Jew."

"The healing cometh from God," said Stephen gravely. "I will come though. Where is the sick man?"

"I will show thee where he lieth," said the man eagerly; "and I pray thee to make haste, for his case is desperate."

"Let me first speak to them that are within, I will join thee immediately," said Stephen, stepping back into the courtyard and leaving the door partly open.

The man listened to the sound of his retreating steps as he ascended the stair. "They be all above," he muttered, stepping softly within. "Now if by any chance--Ha! what is this? A capital warm cloak, 'twill serve to shelter me these chill nights. Body of Jove! but I am always in luck of late!"

When Stephen returned, the man was waiting humbly without as he had left him. The two immediately set forth, the man going before; they walked swiftly through the dark narrow streets, the stranger glancing frequently over his shoulder to make sure that Stephen was following. After a time he paused, "'Tis without the walls," he muttered hoarsely. "We must pass through the Jaffa Gate."

"There is moonlight," said Stephen rather absently, raising his eyes to the heavens, where in truth his thoughts had been as he followed his strange guide.

"There is moonlight," repeated the man with a hoarse chuckle. "So much the better."

Stephen looked at the speaker more attentively than he had done at first; the white light which poured down from above revealing clearly every feature of the brutal face before him. He started visibly. "I have somewhere seen thee before!" he exclaimed. "Nay I know now, thou art of them who formerly----"

The man laughed aloud. "I am Gestas; second in authority to Dumachus, who was chief of our band--and your father. Since the Romans put an end to him, along with Titus and the Nazarene, I have been chief."

"And is it one of your followers who is in need of healing?" asked Stephen, shrinking back a little with something of his old-time dread.

"It is. Art thou afraid?"

"No," returned Stephen quietly, "I am not afraid; surely of all men ye are most in need of the mighty help of the risen Lord; 'twere most fitting if so be that I may bring it into your midst."

Gestas looked at him with an indescribable mixture of contempt and pity. "Thou art a pretty enough fellow," he said, running his eyes over the slender but well-knit figure. "A thought too pretty indeed. Why art thou contented to pass thy days in the company of a band of crazy fools, who will end as their Master did--though he merited it not--on the cross. Why take the devil's wages without the devil's pleasures first? If now, I die on the cross, it will be for reasons better than preaching, praying, and the healing of dirty beggar folk."

"Afterward is the judgment," said Stephen.

"A fig for the afterwards!" cried Gestas. "Who knows anything about that? But, come," he added with a sudden change in his tones, "it lacks but an hour of midnight; thou must be gone before that time."

"I am not in haste to be gone," said Stephen gently. "I will remain until morning, if I can do anything to help."

"There is naught that thou canst do--after midnight," said Gestas gruffly. "If there is an afterwards," he muttered, "it will make no difference to him."

The two walked silently for a time, pausing at length at the edge of a low-growing coppice, through the interlacing branches of which could be seen the fitful flash of a dying fire. Making their way through the thicket by a winding path evidently well known to Gestas, the twain presently found themselves in the centre of the encampment.

"Where is the dying man?" said Stephen, eager to begin his ministry of love.

For answer, Gestas seized him by the arm and hurried him forward into the midst of a dark group of figures which seemed to be awaiting their approach. "Thou art the dying man!" he whispered hoarsely. "Prepare for thy afterwards swiftly."

Half involuntarily, Stephen made a mighty unavailing effort to free himself from the grasp of the ruffian who held him; life on a sudden looked very sweet to him. It could not be that God had appointed such an end as this for one who would serve him long and faithfully. Surely he was too young to die. Yet not younger than Titus, who had gone by the horrible way of the cross to be with him in Paradise. At the thought a great peace possessed his soul. "Not my will but thine be done," he murmured aloud, raising his eyes to the stars which glittered keenly through the interlacing branches overhead.

"So this is the man!" cried a rough voice, as a dozen hands bound him to the trunk of a tree. "It may be that if he hath the power to heal, as they say, he will be master also of other magic arts, which he will use to our undoing. Best make way with him quickly."

Stephen looked about on the crowd of evil faces which surrounded him, and a great wave of pity for his tormentors swept over him. So far were they from God, so deep in unfathomable depths of misery. For himself he felt no fear; from earth to heaven was but a single step.

"Men and brethren," he cried, and his voice rang out clear and sweet upon the startled air. "Let me live for yet a little space, till I shall declare unto you the words of life. For such as you, Jesus died upon the cross; he will save you from out the misery of this present life, and afterward give you the life that endeth not. Only believe on him and forsake your evil ways."

"Prate not to us of thy Jewish Messiah," cried one. "He is not for us, even if what thou sayest be true. We must die as we have lived. We be uncircumcised Greeks that care not for an everlasting abode with them that spit upon us in this life."

"Nay, but he died for the sins of the world, and he is risen from death to abide forever with the Father which made the Greek as well as the Jew, and loveth both alike."

"Give to us a sign!" cried another. "If what thou hast said be true, let the man Jesus come down out of the heavens and deliver thee, then will we believe on him; nay, more, thou shalt be our leader in place of Gestas here--who is too stupid to be chief."

At this Gestas swore a great oath of rage. "Stand back, all of you," he cried. "I will smite him; and there is none that shall deliver him out of my hand, either on earth or in heaven."

Then he raised his arm; Stephen caught the keen glitter of the steel. He closed his eyes. His lips moved in prayer. Something smote him on the breast, but it was not the soul-delivering blade, as he dimly realized ere his senses left him. Gestas, stricken full in the heart by an arrow sped from the bow of an unseen archer, had leapt straight into the air without a cry, then falling limply, his head striking against the prisoner, he lay, a grim unsightly heap, at Stephen's feet.

The others stood for an instant aghast, then with wild cries of fear they fled away into the thicket.

"I fear the knaves have done for him, whoever he be," cried a voice, as the figure of a young man bounded out of the bushes.

"Nay, my son," said Ben Hesed, who had followed more deliberately, "the miscreant had but raised his blade when my arrow smote him; let us loose the man here and get away from this place with all speed, for they will return and fall upon us, if they find that we be few."

"I must fetch the white dromedary," said the voice of Seth, at his elbow. "It is in yonder glade."

"Be quick, then; there is no time to lose!"

The moon had looked down for a full hour longer upon the dark motionless something, which lay just where it had fallen on the soft grass, when the thicket again opened and a man peered out. He looked about him cautiously, then turned and spoke reassuringly to some one behind him.

"There is no one here, Joca; come on!"

"It was a bolt from heaven assuredly which smote him; for there is naught missing save the man," said the other, looking keenly about in his turn at the familiar scene; "Let us get away from this place; I am sick of it."

"Ay! we will return to Greece where the old gods yet rule; I like not the ways of the god of this land; but first--" And the speaker cautiously approached the body of Gestas. "He hath something about him, which we shall have more need of than he. Ah! here it is, ten good pieces--if he have not already spent some of them."

"But there were to have been thirty pieces more."

"Ay! and more's the pity that they be lost to us."

"Why need they be lost to us, man?"

"What meanest thou?"

Joca whispered something in his companion's ear, whereat the other chuckled hoarsely.

"Why not?" he cried, "thou art a son of Minerva to have thought it."

The servant of Annas had waited outside the Jaffa gate for nearly two hours; he was growing impatient at last.

"I will not stay longer," he muttered, "something hath miscarried in the matter; it will be to-morrow--if the knave hath not failed me altogether."

But even as he spoke he saw a man approaching him. He at once stood forth in the full moonlight, bidding his companions remain within the shadow of the wall.

The man came up to him swiftly. "Art thou he who hath thirty pieces of gold to give in exchange for a strange commodity?"

"I am he. Hast thou the commodity?"

"Ay! it is here; wilt thou see it?"

The Jew shuddered at sight of the bag which the other tendered him. "No!" he said shortly. "Take the money and be gone." Then he turned to one of the slaves who waited his orders. "Take this," he commanded, "and fetch it to the palace."

CHAPTER XXI.

NOT A SPARROW FALLETH.

Something more than two years after the events narrated in the preceding chapter, a little group of men might have been seen standing in the portico of a building known as the Synagogue of the Nazarenes. They were conversing in low tones, but their excited gestures and gloomy faces betrayed the fact that the topic which they were discussing was not a pleasant one.

"There is unquestioned and open partiality on the part of the apostles toward them that be of Hebrew birth and descent," said one bitterly. "Though we be circumcised and walk after the law in all diligence, the fact that we are Greeks can be neither overlooked nor forgiven."

"I mind not what they think;" cried another sturdily, "a Greek is as good as a Jew any day, and we be all servants of one Master, even Christ; but it is not just that our widows and fatherless be neglected in the daily distributions, for we have all given freely of our substance into the common fund."

"I like not to boast, my Andronicus," said the third man almost in a whisper, "but I cannot forbear the thought that had I retained in mine own power what I aforetime laid down at the apostles' feet--freely and in all humility of mind, these tales of neglect would not now be coming to our ears."

None of the three had observed that a fourth man had joined himself to the group, till the newcomer spoke. "The neglect of which thou dost complain, my brothers," he said in a deep musical voice, "is not a neglect born of contempt for us because we are Greeks. I know these men through and through; they rest not day nor night, but labor incessantly, and in all unselfishness and love for the church, yet is the burden too heavy for them. Christ healed many that were sick and fed many that were hungry. Yet there remain multitudes of them that are blind, of them that are lepers, of them that hunger, who were also blind, leprous, and hungry, when our Master walked the earth. They came not unto him, and how could he succor them, being burdened with this humanity which doth irk us all?"

"What thou hast said, my Stephen, is true," admitted Andronicus. "But it is also true that among the Jewish widows there is no lack, while Priscilla and her little ones remained two days without food. Had she refrained from joining herself to us, she would have continued to receive aid from the Temple treasury; the woman herself declared it, and I could not gainsay her had I wished it. If there be not neglect born of contempt, there is assuredly a lack of wisdom."

"What hath been done for Priscilla?"

"My wife ministered to her necessities, as well as to those of Julia and Eunice."

"Hast thou spoken of this to Peter?" asked Stephen, looking troubled and turning to one of the others.

"Nay, I have not spoken of it; there should be no need to speak, say I."

"Forget not the word of the Master, 'Judge not that ye be not judged,' said Stephen, gravely. "We must look carefully within before we lightly censure any man--least of all the chosen and anointed ones of our Lord." Then after a thoughtful pause he added, "I will myself speak with John concerning these things."

The man who had first spoken, and who was called Apelles, looked after him as he walked away. "From him I can suffer reproof as from no other;" he said, "he hath within him the very spirit of the ascended One."

"Like the ascended One, he hath also enemies in high places;" said Andronicus, significantly, "the continued attempts made upon his life bear witness to the fact."

"What dost thou mean? He was threatened, it is true, by certain of the Sadducees because of his boldness in declaring the resurrection in their very midst, but no man laid hands on him."

"The Herodians, and especially the Pharisee from Tarsus, are bitter against him for some reason, which perhaps we understand not wholly. Hast thou forgotten his rescue by Ben Hesed more than two years ago; and also what happened thrice since--when by the barest chance he escaped with his life?"

"True, he has been mercifully preserved amidst great dangers; but each time there was a simple enough cause for the peril without attributing it to an enemy," said Apelles, thoughtfully. "Once it was from robbers, who would have slain him from the mere lust of murder, as is their wont. Again, a heavy stone fell from the wall above as he spake to the people, barely missing his head in its descent."

"Yes; I know all that thou wouldst say;" broke in the other, "but listen! Yesterday a basket of fruit was sent him, bearing a scroll inscribed thus: 'This fruit is for the saintly Stephen, from one who believes that the apples of Paradise are none too fair for such as he.'"

"A pretty conceit assuredly!"

"A most lovely conceit! Had he eaten, as the sender supposed that he would do, even now would the apples of Paradise be within his grasp."

"What meanest thou?"

"'I will not eat of this fair fruit,' said Stephen, 'instead I will bear it to the aged Clement, who hath only of late joined himself to us,' but while he waited for a convenient season for taking the gift, the fruit stood without on the ledge of the window, and the birds came and pecked it. Before they could fly away after their stolen meal the little creatures dropped dead."

"Horror! the fruit was poisoned then?"

"Assuredly. Now thou seest that he hath an enemy."

"But who?"

"I have my suspicions, and have warned him. His answer was this, 'He is with me alway even unto the end; until my appointed time there is nothing that shall be able to hurt me; neither shall I fear what man can do to me.'"

"Wonderful! I have confessed that Jesus is the Christ, but I fear me my faith in him is but a poor thing compared with that of Stephen; had the like happened to me I should have fled the city."

"'Twas what I urged upon him. Go away from Jerusalem, I said. There be Jews in every city of Greece who would gladly hear thee of the Christ; in the land of thy fathers shalt thou dwell in safety. But he shook his head. 'The day is not far distant,' he made answer, 'when not alone to the Jews shall this salvation be preached, but unto every people and kindred and tongue beneath the heavens; for Christ came to save the world, and therefore shall the world be saved; but it is not I who am called to this work; my place is here.'"

While the two Greeks thus spoke one to another of Stephen, the young man himself was passing rapidly through the streets towards his home, his thoughts busied chiefly with what Andronicus had told him concerning the daily ministrations. "The matter must be looked to," he said to himself. "The twelve are not sufficient for the work, God be praised. So mightily hath the spirit worked with and for us, that the day is not far distant when the cross shall cease to be a symbol of shame and hissing among men and shall everywhere be hailed the sacred token of deliverance."

Communing thus within himself he lifted up his eyes and beheld the square which lay before the palace of Pilate. "It was here," he murmured, "that they brought him on the day of his death. It was here that the people cried out 'Crucify him--Crucify him!' Ah, that awful day--nay rather that day of days, decreed from the foundations of the world!" Then he passed on into the square, being minded to look for a moment on the very place where he knew the Man of Sorrows had stood so patiently on that last day of his earthly life. As he approached the mosaic of many-colored marbles which marked the place of the judgment seat, a Roman chariot containing two men and drawn by a pair of powerful black horses dashed into the square.

"Dost see that fellow yonder, Herod?" exclaimed the man who stood behind the driver. "I mean the one with the white robe. 'Tis that beggarly Greek, Stephen, who hath been setting the city on an uproar of late with his driveling cant. I hate the whole blasphemous brood, but he is most contemptible of all."

"I will engage to run him down, if thou sayest it," said the man who held the reins, and across whose white tunic streamed a scarf of the imperial purple.

"Be it so!" answered his companion with a malignant scowl. "'Twill be a happy accident that rids the world of such an one."

"An accident of course," said the other with a brutal laugh. "Who would dare question it?" And he brought the long lash with a whistling curl about the glossy flanks of the horses; they leapt forward as one. Something else also leapt forward. There was a cry, and the sound of the iron hoofs was horribly dulled for an instant, then the chariot thundered on, and swept into the avenue beyond the palace.

"By the gods, Alexander!" cried Herod. "Didst see the man who leapt forward from behind? He dragged the beggar forth just in time; another instant and he would have been crushed beneath our wheels."

"I saw, yes," answered the other, grinding his teeth. "The wretch bears a charmed life."

"We will drive back to inquire of the accident," pursued Herod with a sneering laugh. "Pollux there struck something softer than the pavement. Hey! Pollux, my beauty? If it chanced to be the man's head he will prate no more of dead malefactors--nor yet of live ones. How now, fellow!" he shouted, reining in his struggling horses as they approached the borders of the crowd which had instantly gathered at the scene of the accident. "Was the man hurt seriously?"

"Not seriously, they say, your Highness," replied the man to whom he had spoken, bowing low at sight of his royal questioner; "but the stranger who rescued him hath beyond doubt suffered a mortal wound."

"The more fool he!" cried Herod contemptuously. As the horses again sprang forward in obedience to the lash, he turned to his companion with a wicked laugh. "'Twere a pretty pastime for our leisure to root out these pestiferous fellows from the Holy City, and 'twould doubtless cover a multitude of sins."

"May we count on thine assistance, my prince?" said Alexander eagerly. "We who are against the Nazarenes grow fewer each day; already the greater number of Pharisees either believe or regard them with tolerance. These all declare openly that the dead carpenter of Galilee is alive and is like to return any day to rule over Israel."

Herod's face darkened. "Let him return and attempt it!" he cried angrily. "Behind me--is Rome."

CHAPTER XXII.

BY THE THORNY WAYS OF HIS SIN.

Upon a couch in the house of John lay the stranger who had rescued Stephen from death. About him were gathered those of the household who chanced to be at home when the sad little procession had arrived.

"He gave his life for mine," said Stephen, solemnly, looking down at the quiet face across which the shadow of approaching death had already fallen. "And God hath accepted the sacrifice; it is not his will that he be restored. Would that I knew to whom I owe this debt of gratitude before he goes hence."

"He will recover consciousness, I think, shortly," said Mary, laying her cool white fingers on the brow of the sufferer. "He is assuredly not a Jew," she added, gazing intently at the dark face upon the pillows. "Fetch me a basin and sponge, my daughter; it may be that the cool water will revive him."

The girl to whom she had spoken hastened to obey. As she stooped to pour water from a jar which stood without in the courtyard, a young man hurriedly entered the enclosure.

"Where is Stephen?" he cried, as his eye fell upon the maiden. "I heard but just now that Herod had crushed him beneath his chariot wheels. A brutal deed. He that told me was an eye-witness."

"By the mercy of God," answered the girl with a half sob, "he hath escaped with a bruise; another was smitten in his place, and he is dying. I must hasten with the water!" and she sprang up and hurried away.

The young man followed, and approaching the group that surrounded the couch, he looked over the shoulder of the young girl as she held the basin ready for the hand of Mary. He started as his eye fell upon the wounded man.

"He is an Egyptian!" he exclaimed.

Even as he spoke, the man opened his eyes. "Water!" he gasped faintly. Stephen raised the languid head while the skilful hand of Mary held the cup.

"Lay him down again, gently--so," she said in a low voice.

Then Stephen bent over the pillow. "Canst thou tell us who thou art, and why it was that thou didst choose the life of another rather than thine own?"

The dull eyes brightened a little, "Did I save him? Ah, yes--thanks be to the gods! thou art alive. Did any hurt befall thee?"

"Nay--but I live, alas, because thou art to die."

"It is well, not only that thou wilt live, but that I shall die, if the God whom thou dost proclaim will but count my worthless life a sacrifice for my many sins."

"Nay, my brother," said Stephen, "if thou dost but believe on Jesus the Christ, there is no sacrifice needed for sin; he gave himself a sacrifice for our transgressions because of the love which he bare us."

"It cannot be that he loves me," said the sick man. "Listen till I shall tell thee all. I am an Egyptian, my name is Amu----"

The maiden who still stood at his bedside grew very white at the sound of that name, and the newcomer, who was watching from behind, reached quietly out and took the basin from her nerveless fingers. "Anat," he whispered, "'tis a common enough name."

"It is he," she returned, "I know the voice--but listen!"

"Early in life," continued the Egyptian, his voice gathering strength, "I was even as others, neither better, nor worse,--'tis not of those days I would speak, but of the days when I was a man grown--then it chanced that there came a certain stranger out of the wilderness with his wife and child, and sojourned in Egypt. He possessed gold and bought for himself a plot of land not far from the river. This he tilled with industry, so that after a time he gained more gold and bought still another bit of tillage. Not much, for land was costly in the neighborhood of the river. I was his neighbor and I was not unfriendly to him, for he was a stranger and knew not the ways of the people, nor at the first the proper grains to cast into the earth. And because I helped him in such small matters he loved me and clave to me, as also his wife; and I was ever an honored guest in their house. After a time, there came a great sickness over all the region about the upper Nile, because the river failed to overflow his banks at the proper season. The people were wasted by it, and they died by hundreds and by thousands. My father and my brothers died; and the plot of land which had been theirs came to me.

"After a time the man who had come out of the wilderness was likewise stricken, and his wife; and when it presently appeared that they both must die, he sent for me and spake to me after this manner, 'My friend, who hath been to me even as a brother in this land of strangers wherein we have sojourned, I am sorely stricken, both I and the mother of the children, and it must presently come to pass that we be gathered to our fathers; but before my soul passes I would fain speak to thee of my little ones who will be left desolate, if so be that the plague spares them.' 'Speak,' I made answer, 'I will do with them as thou dost command.' Then he told me how that he was a Greek born in Antioch, and the son of a rich man. After his father died a fierce quarrel arose betwixt the two brothers over the division of the inheritance; and when after many days the bitterness still continued, it came to pass that he smote his brother and wounded him sore; then taking what he would he fled away into the wilderness. There he took to himself a wife from the tribes that wandered in the desert and afterward came to dwell in Egypt.

"'Now I pray and beseech thee,' he said to me, 'by all that thou boldest sacred, that thou wilt take my two children and the price of the land--when thou shalt have sold it--and fetch them to my brother, for I have heard that he yet liveth, and say to him this: Thy brother is dead. He sendeth thee the money that he took away--and more; and here are also his two children. Let them find favor in thy sight, I pray thee, for they are desolate.'

"I promised my neighbor that I would do what he desired of me; and I sware it by the temple of Ptah Hotep, and by the sacred Nile, and by the soul of my father. And when he had told me his brother's name and how to find him, he turned himself about on his bed and spoke no more. In that same day both he and his wife perished. Of the two children one was likewise stricken, and I watched her many days till she recovered. Afterward I perceived that she had become blind by reason of the plague.

"That season I could not sell the land, for there were none to buy; so I planted the crops and reaped them, and the children ate and were satisfied; but the money I received for the grain I kept, for I said the laborer is worthy of his wages. The next season I also planted and reaped, and the next; and at the time of the third harvest a man came to me and said, 'Wilt thou sell this land for thy neighbor's children?' and I answered him 'Nay, I will not sell. My neighbor owed me money and he died without repaying me, therefore is the land mine!' And after a time I came almost to believe what I had said. But I waxed exceeding bitter against the two children, who were as yet only babes; so I sent them away to a woman who dwelt in the tombs above the river; and I paid her to keep them. Afterward she died, and the two continued to dwell alone in the tombs. They grew and waxed strong--though no one cared for them, for the boy was lusty and brave; he had become a water-carrier. Still I kept a watch upon them, for I feared lest they should in some way find out what I had done; though I confessed it to no one, not even my wife. After a time the fear grew upon me so that I could neither eat nor sleep, and I resolved to rid myself of the two. I had not yet grown evil enough to wish to slay them, so I turned the thing over in my mind for many days; at the last I was resolved what to do. I would sell them for slaves, then would they be taken away and I should be free from my fears; not only so, but I should receive gold, with which to buy more land. But when I would have accomplished my desires upon them, they fled away into the desert, and assuredly perished; for though I searched for them long, I could never find what had become of them."

"Why didst thou search for them," said Seth suddenly, as the man paused to drink from the cup which Mary again held to his parched lips.

"I searched for them," replied the man, his eyes resting upon his questioner's face with a startled expression, "because--Nay, I hardly know why. I had repented me of my desire to make slaves of them, but I was not ready to give up the land."

"What became of Besa?"

"I found him dead in the tomb where he thought the twain were hidden," answered the Egyptian as if in a dream. "But who art thou that dost question me?" and he half raised himself in the bed, his livid face growing yet more ghastly with the painful effort.

"We are the children of the man thou didst wrong," said Seth fiercely. "Tell me, what was the name of our kinsman, that we may yet seek him as our father willed?"

"His name was Erastus; but, alas, he is dead now these many years. I sought him that I might render an account of what I had done, for I feared death on account of my sin. Neither dared I pray any more to the avenging gods; for had I not foresworn myself in their names? So, because there was no longer any comfort for me in the lands which I possessed, nor in my children, nor in anything in the whole land of Egypt, I became a wanderer in far countries. Here in Jerusalem not many days since, I chanced to hear a wondrous thing, 'that they which had sinned might find peace and forgiveness in one Jesus of Nazareth, who had lived upon earth that he might save them which were lost.' That same day I beheld him that had spoken these words; and I drew near, desiring to ask him still further of the matter, when on a sudden I saw that he was in mortal peril. I scarce know what followed; but I longed to save him, if only that I might hear once more the strange story of the man Jesus. Tell me"--and the man's glazing eyes sought Stephen--"thou hast heard all--is there forgiveness for such as I?"

"There is forgiveness for every one that doth repent and believe in the Lord Jesus," said Stephen softly. "Surely thou mayest pass in peace, my brother; for God hath led thee even by the thorny ways of thy sin unto himself."

The dying man's eyes again brightened, his lips moved; then he stretched out his hand toward the youth and the maiden, who had sunken to their knees by his bedside. "Wilt thou also forgive?" he murmured.

"Yes--yes. We forgive thee fully, as also we hope to be forgiven," cried Seth, pressing his lips to the cold hand which had so cruelly wronged him.

"Thy mother--her name was Zarah," faltered the Egyptian--"she was the daughter--of--" his voice failed him; thrice he made an unavailing effort to speak, then the eternal silence fell softly upon him.

"He hath passed into the presence of the Love that hath led him through all the weary way of his life," said Mary solemnly. "There will he find peace."

CHAPTER XXIII.

IN THE SYNAGOGUE OF THE NAZARENES.

"For what have we been called together at this time, knowest thou?" asked a man of his neighbor in the crowd assembled before the synagogue of the Nazarenes. "Seeing that this is not the prescribed day for worship."

"'Tis that we may consider the matter of which the Grecians have been murmuring of late," replied the other. "Their widows, say they, are neglected in the daily ministrations."

"Not more than the widows of our own blood; the fault lieth with the young men to whom of late the apostles have been forced to give a part of the work. But see, the doors are opened."

The twain, together with the rest of the quiet and orderly multitude, passed into the porch, where each person paused for an instant to dip his hands into the brazen urn of water which stood without the door; this constituting the ceremonial washing of hands required before entering into the sacred enclosure.

The scene within did not differ materially from that which might have been seen in any other of the four hundred and eighty synagogues of Jerusalem. Against the wall opposite the entrance, beneath a canopy of purple cloth, stood the wooden chest or ark, containing the scrolls of the law. Above this ark burned the perpetual light, token of the visible glory of the Lord as it was revealed in that first temple which their forefathers had reared in the wilderness. This sacred light was a three-fold symbol, for it also served to remind the worshipper of the human soul, which is the breath of God; as it is written, "The spirit of man is the candle of the Lord." And of the divine law--"For thy commandment is a lamp; and thy law is light."

Here also facing the congregation was the desk from which the ruler of the synagogue was wont to preside over the worship; and at one side, elevated upon a raised platform, twelve wooden seats were provided for the twelve apostles--the visible heads of the Church; it being the custom in all synagogues to thus elevate above the common rank those who were considered the most enlightened. In these, as in all other respects, did the disciples walk orderly as after the law; being yet minded, despite the warning of the Master, to put the strong new wine of the Kingdom into the ancient bottles of Judaism.

On this day, after that the congregation had seated themselves in due order--the men upon one side of the room, the women and children upon the other, separated by a low wooden partition--the service was begun by the chanting of the sacrificial psalms; after which the whole congregation arose and repeated as with one voice the benediction called "The Creator of Light."

"Blessed art thou, O Lord our God, King of the universe, who createst light and formest darkness; who makest peace and createst all things. He in mercy causes the light to shine upon the earth and the inhabitants thereof, and in goodness renews every day the work of creation. Blessed art thou, the Creator of Light."

And also this--"the Great Love."

"With great love hast thou loved us, O Lord our God; thou hast shown us great and abundant mercy, O our Father and King, for the sake of our forefathers who trusted in thee! Thou who didst teach them the love of life; have mercy upon us and teach us also to praise thee, O Lord, who in love hast chosen thy people!"