Front matter (continued 5)

So the four men made haste all that night to return, and in the morning they stood before the tent of Pagiel and called for him to come out--for he slept late because of the feasting.

Pagiel came forth after a space and heard what the men had to say. And he bowed his head before the messengers of Ben Hesed. "I will arouse my son," he said, "that we may obey the commands of my lord. He would doubtless give to us some further directions concerning the herds."

"Awake!" he cried in the ear of Ben Kish. "Awake to see an evil day, for my heart mistrusts me concerning the man Simeon. Thou shouldst not have told him."

"I told him at thy bidding," cried Ben Kish; "and thinkest thou that we could carry out this thing without adherents? If thou fearest Ben Hesed, why not refuse to go? Tell the men that thy wife is ailing and that I am with the herds. When they shall search for me I will flee in the opposite direction."

Pagiel shook his head gloomily. "Thy counsel is evil, son of a herdsman," he replied. "My wife is already at the fountain, and for thee would they make instant search. We had best go peaceably, for if we refuse they will suspect evil of us--It may be after all that he hath heard nothing; and at the worst, Ben Hesed is a merciful man."

So the two came forth with great show of willingness, and they went with the messengers of Ben Hesed into the wilderness a day's journey.

At evening they stood in the presence of Ben Hesed, and he spoke to them of the crystal flask straightway. "Thus wouldst thou have slain more than a half-score of souls of thine own kindred," he said, his eyes burning with a fire that was terrible to see. "And that without warning and without mercy. What hast thou to say in thy defense?"

The face of Pagiel became the color of death when he heard these words, and he would have fallen had not Ben Kish held him up. "Thou art unjust," cried the son of the herdsman, boldly. "Prate not of mercy to righteous men. An enemy hath told thee this lie concerning us. Twice hast thou believed the word of a stranger before the word of thy near kinsman. Thou art unjust!"

"Is the thing not true then?" said Ben Hesed, mildly, though his eye yet burned with that still and terrible light.

"It is not true," cried Ben Kish. "I swear it by----"

"Hold!" said Ben Hesed, sternly. Then he turned to Pagiel. "Is this tale of the poisoned water true, or is it a lie?"

"It is a lie--a foul lie--a blasphemous lie," cried Pagiel stoutly, the color stealing back to his livid face. "Would I, thinkest thou, lift up my hand against my next of kin? An enemy hath dealt deceitfully with thee--may God requite him!"

"God will requite him," said Ben Hesed solemnly; "and he will also requite thee. Hear now what I shall say. We are by swift dromedaries a day's march from the encampment; this distance ye can accomplish on foot without undue fatigue to yourselves within the space of three days. Return, therefore, in peace, and we will proceed on our journey."

Pagiel bowed himself before his lord. "Thou art a just man," he cried. But in his heart he called Ben Hesed a fool.

"Wilt thou give us provisions that we faint not by the way?" asked the son of Kish, looking suspiciously into the calm face of his chief.

"Assuredly," answered Ben Hesed, "both of food and of water." And he arose and gave command to his servants that provision should be made for the sustenance of the two men, during a three day's journey, of the best of the corn, of the dates, and of the cheeses of goat's milk which they had provided. A skin of water also commanded he to give them. And so they presently set forth, Ben Hesed and his company upon their swift dromedaries, their faces turned toward Judæa; Pagiel and the son of Kish walking slowly in the opposite direction, bearing upon their backs the provision which Ben Hesed had given them.

No sooner was the caravan out of sight and hearing than Pagiel threw down his burden and burst into a loud laugh; and he kissed. Ben Kish on both his cheeks. "Verily," he cried, "thou art a son worth the having; for this day thou didst save me from the incredible folly of confessing to yonder hoary knave all that was in my heart--the words were even upon my lips. Ha, ha! The wisdom of Ben Hesed is very foolishness compared with the wisdom of the son of Kish. Give me to drink, son, for I thirst already because of my laughter."

Ben Kish let down the water-skin from his shoulder. Then he stared at it, his eyes bulging from his head in terror. About the nozzle was bound a scarlet thread.

CHAPTER XXXII.

BEN HESED IN JERUSALEM.

On the fifth day of his journey Ben Hesed reached Jerusalem. And he encamped without the city, saying to his servants, "Bide ye here while I offer a sacrifice in the temple; afterward I will seek out the men with whom I have business."

So he went his way into the city, he and his two sons, leaving the men in the encampment. And he went straightway into the temple and offered a burnt offering for his tribe by the hand of the priest, casting also a goodly sum into the treasury for a thank-offering, as he came out, because that he had completed his journey in safety. "We will go now to the house of John the Apostle," he said to his sons, his face shining with peace.

But as the three of them went their way through the streets, they came suddenly upon a great concourse of people gathered about the doors of a synagogue. They could see that the synagogue also was crowded, the doors standing open because of the pressure of the multitude.

Ben Hesed paused for a moment, and it seemed to him that he could hear the sound of heavy blows and of groaning from within. The multitude also heard, and they cried aloud and gnashed their teeth at the sound.

"Fetch the blasphemers forth!" cried one.

"Stone them!" howled another.

"What is this that is taking place within the synagogue?" asked Ben Hesed of one who stood next him in the crowd.

The man glanced carelessly at his questioner. "They are scourging two of the Nazarenes," he replied. "There is no use to try to get in, friend," he added. "One must come early to secure a good place for seeing the sport. Fetch the blasphemers forth and stone them," he yelled, putting his hand to his mouth. "Ha! they will fetch them forth; we shall see them after all!" And he struggled through the crowd toward the steps of the synagogue.

"What is the meaning of this tumult?" said Ben Hesed again, and this time he put his question to a respectable-looking man in the garb of a carpenter, who stood eying the scene with an inscrutable expression upon his face.

The man turned at the sound of his voice, and looked at him suspiciously. "Whence dost thou come that thou shouldst ask?" he said coldly. Then with another searching glance he added, "They are merely torturing some of the followers of the Nazarene under the scourge. It is lawful."

"Lawful!" cried Ben Hesed. "Who is it that dares call such an outrage lawful? Room here! that I may look further into this matter."

But the carpenter laid a warning hand upon his arm. "Hist, man," he whispered. "If thou art indeed a friend of the Nazarenes, hold thy peace; else wilt thou shortly find thyself where thou canst advantage neither thyself nor them that believe."

His last words were drowned in the savage yell with which the multitude greeted the appearance of a detachment of temple police armed with drawn swords. These marched rapidly down the steps of the synagogue--the crowd opening to let them pass--half dragging, half carrying the limp figures of two men, whose blood-stained garments and drawn, ghastly faces betrayed what they had suffered within. After them poured out the congregation, gesticulating and talking excitedly.

"Stubborn fools," Ben Hesed heard one man say. "They have but to confess the crucified Nazarene accursed, to escape all. If they will not do that, let them die."

"Where are they taking these men?" said Ben Hesed to the carpenter, who still stood at his elbow.

"To the prison, to recover from this scourging, when they will receive another--or worse--if they repent not of their blasphemous folly," answered the man in a hard voice. "Let us get out of this crowd, for God's sake," he whispered in the next breath, "or we shall both be seized."

The upper end of the street was comparatively clear of people, and here they presently found themselves.

"Thou art then a stranger in Jerusalem?" queried the carpenter, wiping the great drops from his forehead. "And a follower of the man Jesus? Ay, I thought so. Verily, thou must needs know that it were best to get thee back into thine own country--and as speedily as possible; Jerusalem is no place for them that believe. I myself am going this very day with my wife and little ones; only this morning I saw the spies of Saul in our street."

"Thou blowest both hot and cold, friend," said Ben Hesed severely; "but a moment since----

"Yes, yes, I know what thou wouldst say. I spoke of their blasphemous folly, but"--and he lowered his voice to a whisper and looked anxiously about--"one of the temple police stood at my elbow; I have a family to feed, therefore I must needs be cautious."

"'Trust in the Lord and do good, so shalt thou dwell in the land, and verily thou shalt be fed.' Why didst thou not hold thy peace altogether rather than speak deceitfully?"

The man shrugged his shoulders. "I have no mind to be either scourged or stoned for the faith," he said; "I saw the stoning of Stephen and--"

"What is it that thou art saying?" cried Ben Hesed aghast.

"The stoning of Stephen--hast thou not heard of it? The very day after his death this persecution broke out. Saul of Tarsus and the Sanhedrim----"

"Where is John?" interrupted Ben Hesed. "And the other apostles--what of the women?"

"Some of the apostles are in prison," answered the man; "others are in hiding. Many of the disciples are fled from the city. Some are in their graves; they alone are safe," and the speaker shivered with apprehension, and again looked furtively about him.

"'Verily, they build up Zion with blood, and Jerusalem with iniquity," said Ben Hesed solemnly. "'Therefore shall Zion for your sakes be plowed as a field, and Jerusalem shall become as heaps; and the mountain of the house as the high places of the forest.'"

"I cannot tarry longer," said the carpenter impatiently. "If thou art a discreet man thou wilt leave Jerusalem before nightfall. For my part I would that I had never heard of the Nazarene. Farewell."

Ben Hesed looked after his retreating figure thoughtfully. "What shall be the end of these things, O Lord?" he murmured. "Behold many shall be purified, and made white, and tried; but the wicked shall do wickedly and shall not understand; the wise shall understand."

"Wilt thou that we return unto the encampment?" said his younger son. "We shall not be able to find them that we would; and we are not sufficient in number to succor the distressed."

The eyes of Ben Hesed flashed. "Return if thou wilt, son, and hide beneath the robe of thy mother; but as for me, the Lord hath brought me up to Jerusalem at this time that I might smite the destroyer."

"I am no coward, and that thou knowest right well, my father," answered the young man haughtily; "but remember, I pray thee, that we have left the tribe with no leader--now that Pagiel hath been proven false. If we should all three fall, what of our wives, our little ones, our flocks and our herds? Verily they would come upon evil days, and shall not a man set them of his own household before them which are strangers? Return thou, my father, we will remain."

"Thou hast spoken not unwisely, son," admitted Ben Hesed. "We must even go cautiously about this matter; and if presently it appear that there is a likelihood of bloodshed, thou, Ben Abu, shalt return with two of the strong men. As for me I am already old; if I fall, it matters not. Come, let us be going."

So they went their way towards the house of John; past the market-places where excited groups were discussing the reign of blood which had begun in Jerusalem; past the synagogues crowded with people--for the scourging of the Nazarenes was going forward briskly in many places at once; through dark alleys and beneath covered archways, where men garbed as temple police lurked to entrap the unwary; till at length they had come to the street which they sought. It was choked with people from end to end; but a singular and almost breathless silence prevailed.

"What hath befallen here?" asked Ben Hesed of a woman who stood holding a baby in her arms. The woman turned upon him a white frightened face. "Alas," she cried. "They refused to fly when they were warned, declaring that God would take care of them. And now it hath come to pass that Saul himself hath entered into their dwelling. God help them!"

"Dost thou speak of the household of John?" asked Ben Hesed.

"Yes, yes.--My God, he has seized them!" and the woman burst into a hysterical shriek as a deep low murmur arose from the multitude.

"Shame! Shame!" cried several voices at once. "Leave the women in peace!"

"Room there! Silence!" cried a harsh voice. "Use your swords, men, to clear the way!"

There was an instant scattering amongst the crowd, mostly composed of women and children--two or three of the more timid ones bursting into loud screams at sight of the glittering weapons.

"Forward!" commanded the leader, a swarthy undersized man, from whose scowling face and fiery eyes the frightened children hid their faces.

So this was the dreaded Saul of Tarsus. Ben Hesed looked at him with undisguised contempt. "Murderous coward!" he muttered beneath his breath.

But now the prisoners, bound with heavy chains, were filing past. Three women, their faces wrapped in their mantles, in whom he nevertheless recognized Mary, the mother of Jesus, Anna, the wife of Caiaphas, and Anat the Egyptian girl. Behind these walked a young man, also bound, whose bleeding face and torn garments betrayed the fact that he had not failed to defend those committed to his charge.

"If we had but come an hour earlier we might have held the place," exclaimed Ben Hesed clenching his fists. "Let us follow and see whither they will take them. It is useless to attempt a rescue now."

"To the Temple," came the second command. "Close up there, and march more rapidly. Save thy tears, woman; thou wilt have further need for them."

"Coward!" cried Ben Hesed again.

And this time it was evident that the quick ear of Saul had caught the sound, for he turned and fixed a murderous look upon the speaker. "Dog of an apostate!" he hissed, "thy day is coming."

"Callest thou me dog?" cried Ben Hesed in a fury, and would have closed with the Pharisee on the spot, had not his two sons held him.

"Let be," whispered the younger of the twain, "or we shall not be able to save them."

Ben Hesed drew back, muttering fiercely. "I will slay him for that word," he said. "Let us follow them in."

But this it presently appeared was impossible; for the prisoners being now arrived at the Temple, were conducted by way of the Court of the Women into the lesser chamber of judgment. And immediately the doors were shut.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

THE MERCY OF ISRAEL.

The light which streamed in from the single window high up in the massive wall revealed a square room, ceiled and paved with stone. It was empty save for an oaken table, behind which in a high-backed chair sat an old man of severe and reverend aspect. On either side of him stood two officers of the temple police, motionless as statues and armed with long spear-pointed staves. All this Anat, who was the first of the women to pass into the chamber, saw with a single timid glance. She shrank back before the stern eyes of the man in the chair, and reaching out one manacled hand touched the robe of Mary, who was just behind her. The mother of Jesus took the little trembling hand and held it firmly.

Saul advanced to the table and laid upon it a slip of parchment, at the same time whispering a few words into the ear of the old man, who frowned slightly and nodded once or twice as his eye passed slowly from one to the other of the four prisoners.

"Where is the man John?" he demanded suddenly.

No one answered.

"Can ye not speak?" he cried, striking the table with his clenched fist, "or hath it come to pass that your scurrilous tongues are already withered in your mouths?"

"If thou art questioning me," said Seth calmly, "I wot not where the apostle is; he went forth on some errand of mercy early this morning, leaving me in charge of the house. We be law-abiding citizens, dwelling in a law-abiding city, wherefore hath it come to pass that we are thus dragged through the streets in chains?"

"That shalt thou shortly hear," replied Annas grimly. "Hast thou examined these prisoners?" he asked, turning to Saul.

"I examined them briefly before making the arrests, according to my custom," answered Saul. "For I would not that I transgress the law in this work of purging the holy city of them that blaspheme. I found all of these prisoners obstinate and stiff-necked, unwilling to renounce their sins and to make confession of their unrighteousness, therefore I have brought them before thee for further examination and sentence."

"This being so, the law must take its course with them," said Annas sternly. "Do thou, Mary of Nazareth, stand forth. Remove the veil from off thy face."

With a firm step the mother of Jesus advanced and stood before the table; she threw back the shrouding mantle, her beautiful, pallid face shining forth as if illumined with a strange inward radiance.

Annas looked at her for an instant, then he dropped his eyes and fell to turning over the parchments which lay before him.

"Art thou the mother of the Man of Nazareth?"

"I am."

"Thou didst teach him to believe unholy and blasphemous things regarding himself when he was a child," said Annas, still looking down at the table; "therefore did he continue to delude himself and others when he was grown, and at the last perished miserably on the accursed tree. Hath not God punished thee sufficiently for thy presumptuous sin that thou dost still persist in pretending that thy son is the Messiah of Israel?"

"He is the Messiah of Israel," said Mary, her deep eyes shining. "Wherefore my soul doth magnify the Lord, for he hath regarded the low estate of his hand-maiden; behold from henceforth all generations shall call me blessed. He is the Messiah of Israel, but he is also much more, he is the Prince of Peace, the Saviour of the world. For the Lord hath shewed strength with his arm, he hath scattered the proud in the imaginations of their hearts. He hath put down the mighty from their seat, and exalted them of low degree. And God hath delivered his holy child Jesus from death and from the power of the grave, and hath set him down at the right hand of power for ever more."

"Daughter of Abraham," said Annas, lifting his shaking hand, "thou hast blasphemed. Thou knowest the penalty."

"Father," cried an agonized voice, "forbear this last awful sin, lest God smite thee in his wrath and consume thee to ashes!"

At the sound of this voice the face of Annas changed. He rose to his feet and stared for a moment at the shrouded figure which knelt before him.

"Who--who is it that speaks to me?" he said, and his voice trembled.

"It is I--thine own daughter, Anna; dost thou not know me? I beseech thee by the mercies of Jehovah that thou raise not thy hand against the mother of the Christ."

"Woman, I know thee not. Get thee up and stand back. Out of thine own mouth art thou already condemned."

"I care not for myself--death were welcome. But take heed to thyself, I beseech thee, before thou layest violent hands upon this holy woman."

Annas laughed contemptuously. "Have we not crucified the carpenter?" he said, "and are unscathed; is the mother of the carpenter more exalted? Nay, we shall deal with her after the law; the law is just."

At this Seth started forward. "Prate not of the law who art a murderer!" he said in a choked voice. "The man Jesus was guiltless and ye did condemn him. Guiltless also are these women; release them, but do with me as thou wilt--the servant is not greater than his lord."

Annas trembled with rage. He essayed to speak, but the words died on his lips.

"Now seest thou what manner of perverse and pestilent apostates these are," said Saul. "Furthermore, the man is an alien. There is no need that we continue to argue this matter with them. Israel is ever merciful and just, according to the commands of Jehovah, therefore let them be publicly scourged without the gates; if the stripes be wholesome to bring them back to their right minds and to a knowledge of the truth, well. They will then confess right gladly that the man of Nazareth and all his works are of the devil. After this shall a blood offering be made for them; so shall they be cleansed from their iniquities. But and if they will not so confess, let their sin abide upon them; let them die the death appointed in the law of Moses for such as are blasphemers."

"Justice and mercy are in the words of thy mouth," said Annas slowly. Then he turned to the prisoners: "Forty stripes save one shall be laid upon each and every one of you to-morrow at about this hour, according to the magnitude of your offences and the law of Moses, who thus appointed it for the peace of Israel. Afterward--if ye will not confess--ye shall die the appointed death."

"Mercy--have mercy!" cried Anna, laying hold of his robe. "We cannot but believe the things which we have seen and heard. Nay, thou wouldst thyself believe if the Lord should reveal himself to thee."

Annas drew away with a gesture of abhorrence. "Unhand me, woman," he said sternly. "Satan hath blinded thee to the truth; I will pray for thee that thou be undeceived at the last. Take them away."

"Thrust these blasphemers into the inner prison," commanded Saul a half-hour later, "and remember that thou answerest for them with thine own life. Come not to me on the morrow with any whining tale of angel or devil, and think thus to excuse thyself for their escape. Let them be missing at the third hour to-morrow, and thou thyself shalt suffer in thine own body the penalty to which these are condemned. Thou hast heard."

The chief jailer shrugged his shoulders. "I have heard, my lord. This night at every watch will I inspect the prisoners. But I pray thee send also additional guards, for life is precious to me, and I have not forgotten what hath happened more than once when these Nazarenes have been imprisoned; peradventure the man himself might appear."

"Coward!" growled Saul. "The man hath perished off the face of the earth, so likewise shall perish all who believe on him. If thou art one of these, room shall be made for thee within."

"Nay, my lord, nay," cried the jailer trembling. "I do not believe--I swear it; but there have been strange things of late, and the devil himself hath powers----"

"I will send a guard," interrupted Saul shortly. "Hold thy peace and do thy duty, and all shall be well with thee. Admit no one."

The chief jailer bowed himself almost to the ground before the Pharisee, whose renown had by this time spread throughout Jerusalem, and in whose presence the temple officials from the highest unto the lowest trembled. "I will admit no one," he said, and he again made obeisance as Saul strode through the prison gate.

"Lock the gate and double bar it," he cried irritably to the guard. "Then stand there for your lives; if these prisoners get away, and I have to die for it, be sure that not one of you shall escape. Thrust the man into the stocks," he added to the turnkey, who stood at his elbow; "as for the women, chain them to the floor. I will come after a little and look to them. Food? No; let them fast. Give them water."

In the inner prison, where the darkness seemed only the more intense because of the feeble rays of daylight which struggled through the little square of grating above the door, were the four who were condemned to death. The young man Seth made fast in the stocks, the three women chained to heavy rings which were riveted into the stone floor.

"Dost think that He will deliver us?" whispered Anat, laying hold of the robe of Mary and pressing it to her lips.

"He will deliver us, beloved, in his own best way," answered Mary tenderly. "If the way lie through the dark valley, then will the end thereof be only the more glorious."

"But the scourging--the shame, how--how shall we endure it?" wailed Anat piteously.

"He also endured--being divine," said Mary, her voice trembling; "and shall we who are but mortal shrink back? Think not of the morrow, save as thou dost think that to-morrow we shall stand before Him in clothing of immortality."

"But if we fail, deny him?" faltered Anat. "I know not my own heart--whether I can endure unto the end."

"He will give thee grace when the need comes. Wouldst thou at this moment deny him?"

"No--ah, no."

"Neither wilt thou deny him on the morrow. He giveth his strength in due season, and to-morrow is in his hand."

As for Anna, the wife of Caiaphas, she sat silent, her head bowed upon her knees. Mary thought that perhaps she slept, and in her tender heart she hoped that this was so.

Every hour the chief jailer flashed the light of his torch into their prison. "Where now is he that delivereth?" he cried tauntingly. And again, "If angels visit thee during the night watches cry aloud, for I have sworn by my life to deliver thy bodies to judgment on the morrow." Being insensible--as indeed are most mortals to celestial sights and sounds--he did not perceive that the whole place was filled with the airs of heaven and with the rustling of angelic pinions.

At midnight the drowsy guards were awakened by a loud knocking upon the outer gate of the prison.

"Open!" cried a voice. "Open at once, in the name of the Sanhedrim." The governor of the prison looked out, and beholding by the light of the lantern that it was Caleb himself who knocked, he opened cautiously and admitted him.

"I have orders," said Caleb, "to speak a word in private with one of the women who are in ward here; this is the token of my authority," and he displayed before the eyes of the chief jailer the signet ring of Annas.

"But the Pharisee Saul--" began the jailer.

Caleb waved his hand impatiently. "Fetch the woman out to me and at once," he said.

"They are chained to the floor," grumbled the jailer, "and I will not fetch out any one of them, were it by the order of Herod himself. Go thou in."

So Caleb went into the prison, the jailer following close upon his heels. "Which is the woman called Anna?" he said. "I have here a message for her."

And when the daughter of Annas had been pointed out to him, he thrust into her hand a packet. "Use what is within to save the honor of thy house," he whispered. "It is sent thee in mercy by the hand of Annas." Then he turned swiftly and went out.

Anna opened the packet, a vague hope stirring at her heart; but she shrank back with a shiver as the flash of the departing light fell upon the blade of a dagger.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

AT THE THIRD HOUR.

On the morrow a great crowd had assembled about the prison which held the four who were condemned to public scourging and to death; for evil tidings travel fast, and there is ever an ignoble multitude who reckon as high holiday a spectacle of human agony.

Yet there were those who looked in one another's faces with sombre and despairing eyes. "The last days are at hand," they murmured, "the days of wrath and of burning. For shall not God avenge his own elect which cry day and night unto him? Yea, he will avenge them, and that right speedily." But still the sun poured down with impartial splendor, gilding alike the gloomy walls of the blood-stained prison, and the yellow curls of the year-old babe. And the placid heaven gave no sign of the invisible hosts of glory behind its azure wall.

Exactly at the third hour, Saul accompanied by a strong guard approached the prison. His face was pale and haggard, but upon it was stamped a look of savage determination before which the mob fell back with a dull low murmur.

The governor of the prison greeted him with manifest joy. "The prisoners which thou didst commit to my charge are safe--quite safe, my lord," he said, rubbing his hands. "We had no visions; neither angels, earthquakes, nor demons. We are----"

"Fetch them forth," said Saul, with a peremptory gesture and a fierce look at the jailer, before which that functionary drew back with an apologetic obeisance.

"Yes, certainly, at once, my worshipful lord; just as soon as we shall be able to undo the chains. Here you," he roared, addressing the turnkey, "fetch the four from the inner prison."

So presently the condemned came forth into the prison yard, and stood before Saul. Their faces were calm, even joyful, and the Pharisee ground his teeth as he looked at them.

"Hast thou counted the cost of thy perverseness?" he said abruptly.

"We have counted the cost," replied Mary of Nazareth in a firm voice, "and the reward is exceeding glorious above all that it hath entered into the heart of man to imagine."

"Thinkest thou so?" answered Saul. "Those of thy company may be of a better mind. Take heed to what I shall say," he added, turning to the other three. "The Sanhedrim is full of mercy and compassion; and while it will without faltering carry on the work which it hath undertaken of cleansing and purifying Israel of this monstrous and blasphemous belief in a perished malefactor, it also offers pardon freely to all who confess and forsake the error of their ways. If now at this last hour ye will acknowledge that the Nazarene was an impostor inspired by the father of lies; that he justly died the accursed death; that his body moreover was stolen by his followers from out the tomb in which it was buried, for the express purpose of confirming this accursed blasphemy; if ye shall now make confession of these things, it is the merciful mandate of them which are in authority that ye be immediately released without further scathe or punishment. Ye have heard. Wilt thou, maiden, so confess, thereby securing to thyself bodily safety and the blessing of the Almighty?"

There was a breathless silence for an instant, then Anat raised her large dark eyes to the face of the Pharisee. "Sir, I have heard thy offer of safety, and this is my answer. I believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, because I who was once blind now see; I believe that he was put to death upon the cross that he might draw all men unto him and heal them from their sins, even as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness that the stricken Israelites might look and be saved; I believe that he arose from among the dead on the third day, and is set down forever at the right hand of God. These things I do affirm and believe in this the last hour of my mortal life."

"Thou art condemned," said Saul slowly, but his face was more white than the face of the maiden.

"Young man," he said, turning to Seth, "wilt thou confess to the things which I have already enumerated, that thou mayest live out thy days in peace?"

"I cannot deny him on whom I have believed, even for the sake of life--and life is sweet," faltered Seth, on whom the shadow had lain very heavily all the night.

"Thou art condemned," repeated Saul in a hollow voice.

"Woman, who by reason of thine exalted birth shouldst have remained a mother in Israel, wilt thou renounce these vile errors after which thou hast strayed? In so renouncing thou shalt find again a father's, a husband's forgiveness and favor. For so I am bidden to say unto thee."

Anna trembled and was silent.

"Dost thou so acknowledge thy sin?" said Saul; and it seemed to them that listened that there was a note of entreaty in his stern voice.

"God of my fathers!" cried the wife of Caiaphas, looking up into the dazzling blue of the sky. "Help me to know without shadow of doubt what is truth; and enable me to witness to it without faltering." Then she turned to Saul. "Tell my husband and my father, that the forgiveness and favor of God is rather to be desired than the forgiveness and favor of any mortal, however beloved. I believe that Jesus of Nazareth is the Messiah of Israel; and if I must now die for that belief, I die willingly."

Saul bowed his head without speaking. "Close up about the prisoners," he commanded the guard, who had stood silent witnesses of the scene, "and conduct them to the place of punishment."

* * * * *

Abu Ben Hesed had not been idle during the hours which had passed since he had seen the prisoners disappear behind the closed door of the judgment hall. He had followed them to the prison; and from a temple underling who was not insensible to the glitter of gold as seen through the fingers of the desert chief, he had made shift to find out the number of guards, the strength of the walls and the general plan of the prison.

"A safe prison, truly," he said to his informant, as the gold changed hands--neither apparently being aware of the transaction.

"Safe as the tomb," assented the temple official, slyly rubbing the coin with a corner of his robe. "Once within yonder walls, a man is seen no more till he is fetched out." Then he fell to eying the hand of Ben Hesed, fancying that he again saw there a gleam of something yellow. He was not mistaken; and his face grew proportionately genial as a second coin joined the first in his own greedy palm.

"I am but lately arrived in Jerusalem," said Ben Hesed, "and have as yet not witnessed the punishment of any of these apostates. 'Twere a goodly sight to see a blasphemer suffer?"

"Ay, a goodly sight. I have seen many. Man, but they be obstinate! Wouldst thou witness a grand spectacle, then be without the Damascus Gate to-morrow. 'Twill be in the very place where they stoned the pestilent Gentile, Stephen."

"They will stone only the man, I suppose?" said Ben Hesed with apparent unconcern.

"They will scourge all four--forty stripes save one," and the fellow smacked his lips in anticipation. "I myself am to handle one of the scourges, and I understand the business as none other in Jerusalem. I can fetch the blood every time; thou wilt see." And he winked at Ben Hesed, and cautiously clinked the gold pieces with the air of a man who is at peace with himself and all the world.

Ben Hesed could with difficulty keep his hands from the throat of the wretch.

"After the scourging, the Sanhedrim will give them one more chance to renounce their evil beliefs," continued the official, "a mere form, for they are all as stubborn as the father of lies himself. A few stones will suffice to finish them. So perish all who blaspheme the law!"

"I shall be there," declared Ben Hesed. "Ah, stay, should they change the hour and place bring me word, and I will recompense thee with as much again as thou hast already in thy hand. I am not minded to lose the sight. Thou wilt find me encamped just without the Damascus Gate."

"I will bring thee word, son of Abraham, I swear it by the veil of the Temple. Peace be with thee."

An hour later Ben Hesed held a council of war in his camp. "We cannot take the prison," he said, drawing his heavy brows together. "For they would straightway rouse the Romans at the citadel, which is but a stone's throw from the outer wall of the place. We must wait till they fetch them out to-morrow, and may the Almighty give us the wisdom and the strength which we need. Ay, and he will give it," he added, his eye flashing fire. "It is ever the pleasure of Jehovah to show forth his power by the hand of the few, even as by the hand of Gideon with three hundred men he overthrew the hosts of the Midianites and Amalekites, which were as the grasshoppers for multitude."

Then directed he the twelve men who were with him after what manner they should do on the morrow, and every man of them lay down and slept. But Ben Hesed slept not all the night, for he prayed mightily unto God that he would deliver them which were persecuted out of the hand of the destroyer; and he prayed also for him that was wasting the church, that his eyes might be opened. At the coming of the dawn he also laid down for a space, for he said, "I will both lay me down in peace and sleep; for thou Lord only makest me to dwell in safety. The Lord will save the afflicted people, he will give me the necks of his enemies, for God is a God of great deliverances."

Very early the people began to pour out from the Damascus Gate, that they might secure good places for the seeing. They brought with them food and drink also, that they might make merry. Ben Hesed looked at them and he waxed exceeding angry.

"Behold!" he said, "these dwellers in the holy city are come out as to a holiday, with laughing and feasting. They are become as the dwellers in Sodom, and as the inhabitants of the earth before the flood, for they delight themselves in blood and in violence. They make merry and eat and drink to-day, but the days shall come wherein they shall mourn and cry aloud, and their tears shall be their meat day and night."

As the third hour drew nigh, the people began to crane their necks toward the gate through which the condemned were to come forth, and they grew impatient and murmured as the moments dragged by.

"What now if they have already confessed?" said one woman. "We shall have put ourselves to this trouble for naught. Nay, but I believe that they have confessed."

"Mayhap," said her neighbor, "but I shall not give up the matter before noon, now that I am here. Verily," she added with a shrug, "I am glad now that I did not go over to their number; I came near it once when the man Peter preached in our street that their Messiah would come back and that right speedily. If what they tell about the Nazarene being alive were true, he would certainly come in these days." Then they fell to gossiping in neighborly fashion about their husbands, the linen that they had spun, and the preparations for the approaching feast-day, stopping suddenly to listen as a loud and ever growing murmur of sound arose from within the gates.

"They are coming!" cried the multitude as with one voice.

"They are coming!" said Ben Hesed, tightening his grasp on the strong bow upon which he was leaning. The little band of fourteen men had established themselves on a rocky eminence directly above the spot where the scourging was to take place, well screened from observation by a tangle of low-growing shrubs.

The procession, headed by a strong detachment of temple guards, soon came in sight, the prisoners heavily chained walking two by two. Behind them followed a number of Sanhedrists, among whom the women pointed out to one another the famous Saul of Tarsus, as second only in interest to the condemned prisoners.

"They do say," whispered one, "that he enters without ceremony into the houses wherein dwell them that believe on the Nazarene, and that he drags them forth to prison and to death without mercy."

"That is true," returned her neighbor. "I chanced to be in the house of Mary when he came there--for as thou knowest, she was a kind soul, whatever her sins, and ready always to lend from her store for the convenience of them that lacked--indeed one might say as much of them all."

"And how didst thou escape?"

"I simply repeated what the man bade me, without ado; but I had like to have fainted. How I reached my home afterward I scarce know; my husband hath forbidden me to speak with any of them hereafter--though God knows the command was needless. But see! They are about to bind them to the posts for the scourging." At the next breath the speaker screamed aloud in terror, grasping her neighbor by the arm. A swift something had smitten the man who was advancing to lay hold on Mary of Nazareth, and with a wild yell of agony he leapt high into the air, falling stone dead at his victim's feet.

Before the startled multitude had time to recover themselves, a very whirlwind of destruction, savage, swift, merciless, had swept down upon them from the rocky eminence above their heads, the wild battle-cry of the desert sounding in their guilty ears like the trumpet call of the last day. And the people fled from before it in a frenzy of mad fear, running, stumbling, falling, the strong trampling the weak under foot, amid a wild tumult of shrieks, curses and entreaties to God to spare them.

The temple guard, encouraged by the ringing voice of Saul of Tarsus, made at the first some faint show of resistance, then they too turned and fled for their lives.

"Cowards!" shouted Saul angrily; "there are but a handful of them."

But his voice was drowned in the general uproar. Seizing a spear from the hand of one of the flying guard, he flung himself into the thickest of the fight, striking out right and left in a sort of blind fury. Then something struck him full in the forehead, a wave as of fire flashed before his eyes, the spear dropped from his nerveless fingers, and he fell--down--down into darkness and silence.

CHAPTER XXXV.

ON THE ROAD TO DAMASCUS.

"Neighbor, dost think it is safe for us to come down? Verily, for myself, I shall take the risk, if risk there be, for my limbs are as stiff as those of yonder dead man."

By way of answer, the other man shook a warning finger at the speaker, and proceeded to clamber up still further into the branches of the tree in which these two spectators of the stirring scene which had just transpired were hidden. "Wait a little," he whispered, "till I shall make sure that the fellows have gone. By the thunderbolts of Jove!" he exclaimed with a laugh, as he presently descended to a level with his companion, "that was a greater sight than the stoning which we came out to see; I would not have missed it--no, not for ten shekels of silver!"

"Have they gone?" said the first querulously. "I tell thee that my limbs have lost all feeling, so long have I sat here without moving."

"Thou mayest thank the gods that thou art alive to complain, friend. But come down, come down; there is naught to hurt thee now, and we must look to these dead men."

"Who were the rescuers, thinkest thou?"

"Nay, I know not. There were thirteen of them, for I counted; verily, I believe that the multitude thought them the twelve apostles headed by the Nazarene himself." And the speaker threw back his head and laughed again.

"Nay, there were fourteen," said the other, with an obstinate shake of the head. "I also counted, and I never make a mistake. They were wild men out of the desert, I opine," he added sagely. "I have seen the like many times when crossing to Egypt, for I have traveled in my day." Then he looked anxiously about him. "There is no one dead here save the man yonder," he said, "and he was smitten at the first. We had best make haste and return to the city; this affair is nothing to us."

"Hold, dost thou not see a body yonder in the shadow of the bush? By the rod of Moses, I think I saw him move; let us look to it."

"We had best leave the whole matter alone, I tell thee," insisted his companion with irritation. "Thanks be to Jehovah, I have had nothing to do with it so far--save to look on; and I tell thee that I will not lay a finger to yonder body, be it dead or alive. Come, I am going to the city." And without stopping for further parley, the speaker began to run toward the city gate, apparently not hearing the loud cries to stop which his companion sent after him.

"Coward!" muttered the one who was left; then he walked over to the body, which lay face downward in the shadow of the bushes, and deliberately turned it over, starting back with a cry of surprise as the identity of the unconscious man became apparent.

"'Tis Saul of Tarsus! So the wolf is himself bitten for once; but not unto death, I am thinking." He sprinkled the face of the wounded man with water, and forced a little wine between his clenched teeth. "Only a bruise," he continued reflectively, as he examined the body with care. "I suspect that the Nazarenes would thank me should I thrust him through as he lies. He is a hard man--a hard man. Yet that is nothing to me. Ha! he is reviving already. Another sip of the wine, friend; thou hadst a sharp blow, and it hath confused thy senses somewhat; but thou wilt shortly----"

"Did the blasphemers escape me?" said Saul in a hollow voice, sitting up and looking about him. Then his eye fell upon the four empty posts which had been set up for the scourging, and he groaned aloud.

"Be thankful rather that thou hast thyself escaped with so slight an injury," said the man who still stood at his side, flask in hand. "Another sup of----"

"Hold thy peace, fellow," said Saul savagely, springing to his feet. "The cowardly knaves!--to flee from their duty before a dozen peasants,--where are they? Which way did they go?" And he fixed his angry eyes on his rescuer, who was calmly girding himself.

"Thou hast bidden me hold my peace, Pharisee; and I am not the man to be bidden twice. Farewell, and a good recovery to thee." And the man turned resolutely away.

"Stay, friend. I should not have spoken thus to one who had done me a kindness," said Saul. "Grant me thy pardon, and tell me, I beseech thee, what thou canst of this affair--if thou wast witness to it. God knows that it was untimely; another hour might have seen four penitent ones restored to the fold of Israel."

"Thinkest thou so, Pharisee?" said the other carelessly. "Now for myself I think otherwise. Another hour would have seen four corpses yonder, where now we see but one. The affair was timely enough for the Nazarenes."

"Thy name, man?"

"My name, Pharisee, is Festus; I am a free-born Roman, resident of Jerusalem yonder for a score of years back, but answerable to no man for my beliefs or practices. If it pleaseth me to believe on a crucified man instead of on Jove or Jehovah, thou canst neither scourge nor stone me for it. And now, most courteous rabbi, let me advise thee to return with all haste into Jerusalem, and in future to moderate thy zeal, lest thou come to an untimely end." With which bit of advice, received by Saul in contemptuous silence, the man strode away toward Jerusalem.

Left to himself the baffled Pharisee examined the ground carefully, pausing at length to question several peasants who had left their work in the neighboring fields to gather at the scene of the disaster.

"Didst thou see which way the knaves fled?" he asked of one.

The man looked at him stupidly. "They be fled along the road yonder," he said, pointing with his finger to the highway.

"Which way, north or south?"

"They went that way, master," said the peasant, pointing toward the north, which was indeed the opposite direction from that which Ben Hesed and his company had taken.

"He asked me which way the knaves were fled," said the man to his companions, as they stood staring after the departing figure of Saul. "Assuredly the knaves who came out to look upon the death of the just went that way, since it took them back to Jerusalem. As for the Nazarenes and those that saved them this day, God be with them, I did not look to see which way they fled. Jehovah grant them a swift journey and a safe abiding-place from the hand of that pestilent Pharisee."

"Thou hast spoken!" cried the others with an air of enjoyment, after which they went peacefully back to their labors.

In the meantime Saul was hastening back to Jerusalem with rage in his heart; bruised, baffled, humiliated as he was, he lost no time in seeking Annas that he might acquaint him with the untoward occurrence of the morning.

"I will pursue them," he said, "even unto strange cities. Within this hour will I set forth."

Annas looked thoughtful. "Thou sayest," he said, "that they be fled towards the north. It hath come to my ears of late that there be many of these accursed apostates who have taken refuge in Damascus. So that there is now a goodly company of them dwelling in fancied security in that city, waxing fat and flourishing, as doth this pestilent weed of evil wherever it taketh root. The men who have this day interfered with the just sentence of the law, have doubtless accomplished the mischief through the connivance of some person who hath played traitor to the cause, and are now fled to Damascus, thinking to find there a refuge from the wrath of Israel."

"Who is the traitor?"

Annas hesitated for an instant. "There be foes among them of a man's own household in these days," he said in a half whisper. "Caiaphas hath disappeared, I know not whither; but I fear--I fear."

"Damascus is under Aretas, Emir of Petra, now," said Saul after a pause. "With him thy house hath friendly relations. Give me therefore letters that I may carry fire and the sword into the camp of Jehovah's enemies. I will not let so much as one of them escape me," and he ground his teeth savagely. "I will fetch them chained to Jerusalem, that they may perish in sight of the walls which they have dishonored."

"Thou hast spoken wisely and well, my son. I will procure the letters for thee at once, so that thou mayest start without delay. As for matters in this city, there shall be no sparing of pains nor effort to carry on to its completion the good work which we have begun. Jehovah hath prospered us mightily so far. We hear of no more blasphemous gatherings in Solomon's Porch; no more preaching of a false Messiah in the synagogues; no more healing of vile beggars in the name of the accursed one; no further prating about apostles or disciples. Men walk soberly in these days as they have not since the days of the malefactor. Let us continue in this good cause, my son, and we shall have triumphed gloriously. This disgraceful heresy, which is even as a spot of foul leprosy on the fair body of Israel, shall be utterly purged away. Then indeed may we hope once more for the coming of the Anointed One."

The eyes of the young man flashed fire. "Amen and Amen!" he cried. "May Jehovah hasten the day!" But his brow was gloomy and forbidding as ever, when an hour later he had finished the visitation of the prisons wherein groaned many that believed.

"Neither scourgings, threatenings, revilings, nor torture of any degree hath the power to move these Nazarenes," declared the chief-jailers; "and the women yield no whit easier than the men."

"A spot of leprosy indeed," muttered Saul to himself, "it hath by stealth crept into the very life-blood of the nation; and how hardly shall the deadly leprosy be cleansed."

Another hour and he was in the saddle pressing forward with all haste towards Damascus, for he hoped to overtake the fugitives before night. With him traveled a well-armed escort of tried and experienced men, to whom had been promised large rewards should the mission be successful. The journey to Damascus was a long one, the roads were rough and ill-made moreover, so that progress was necessarily slow. Hasten as he might, Saul could not hope to reach Damascus before the better part of a week. As for them that had escaped, it was impossible for him to decide whether or not they were still before him. Now and again he heard from the khans along his route, of a troop of horsemen with whom were traveling also women, but when on the third day he actually overtook such a company of wayfarers it turned out to be merely a caravan of wine merchants, traveling with their wives and little ones.

"I will at all events press on to Damascus," he decided, "for even should I not immediately lay hand upon the ones I seek, there are in that city other lost sheep of the house of Israel which I must needs bring back into the fold."

On this journey for the first time in many months Saul found time to think. Habitually taciturn and forbidding, his subordinates did not venture to address the haughty Pharisee save when it became necessary; so for long hours the man sat silent, while his beast picked its slow and difficult way along the rocky roads.

Strangely enough his thoughts wandered again and again from the object of his journey; in these vernal solitudes the wily words of Annas faded from his mind. Something in the pure-eyed flowers that leaned in shy welcome from the roadside grass put him in mind of Stephen, the dead apostate, as he bitterly termed him. Before his mental vision there arose again that never-to-be-forgotten face; now radiant with the fire of youth and enthusiasm, as he remembered it in many a heated debate over law and prophecy; now stern and unrelenting as he pronounced the terrible arraignment which yet echoed in the ears of the Pharisee: "Ye stiff-necked and uncircumcised in heart and ears; ye do always resist the Holy Ghost; as your fathers did, so do ye. Which of the prophets have not your fathers persecuted? And they have slain them which shewed before the coming of the Just One; of whom ye have now become the betrayers and murderers!" Then pallid beneath the icy shadow of approaching death, yet shining with a mysterious glory as he cried out, "Behold, I see the heavens opened, and the Son of Man standing on the right hand of power." And yet again, touched with the mystic seal of the great deliverer as he had lain "asleep" on the stony ground beyond the Damascus Gate.

In vain did he endeavor to shake off these haunting visions, resolutely repeating aloud commands, prohibitions and long passages of the law, rigorously observing the ceremonial washings and cleansings whenever the company halted beside a running stream. All was in vain, "Ye who received the law as it was ordained by angels, and kept it not!" sounded the inexorable voice. And with and through it, mingled the wail of women bereft of their little ones, the groanings of strong men beneath the scourge, the sullen clang of prison doors, and the clank of chains.

On the fifth night of his journey the agony became so intolerable that he left his tent and wandered out beneath the open heavens. "My God!" he groaned aloud, "have I not kept thy law, and loved thy statutes? Yet have I no peace: my days are consumed with anguish. Surely thou hast hated iniquity and thou hast loved righteousness; behold now I have done all these things that thy name might be exalted before the people, that blasphemy and deceit might cease from out the land." And he vowed a great sacrifice before the Lord of fat sheep and oxen. But again came the haunting voice, "O ye house of Israel, have ye offered to me slain beasts and sacrifices for the space of forty years. But behold, I will carry you away beyond Babylon--who have received the law ordained of angels and have kept it not."

"I have kept the law!" he cried aloud, and the hills replied in melancholy echoes, "the law--the law."

Then there crowded into his thought the faces of the four who had escaped out of his hand, and he remembered the look in the eyes of the maiden as she said, "I believe that he was put to death upon the cross that he might draw all men unto him and heal them from their sins, even as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness that the stricken Israelites might look and be saved," and with these words there mingled the solemn voices of prophecy, "Surely he hath borne our griefs and carried our sorrows; yet we did esteem him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted. But 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. All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way; and the Lord hath laid upon him the iniquity of us all."

"God, if it be true," he murmured; and for a moment the soft radiance of that ever brooding presence of love had well nigh penetrated his dark soul, then he lifted his head stubbornly. "I cannot believe," he cried. "I will not believe.--Shall I, a Pharisee of the Pharisees, accept a Messiah who hath died the accursed death? I am mad. I will not believe--unless I too can see the heavens opened."

He laughed aloud as he spoke the words, and the sound of his laughter fled away through the silent night to the dark hills which caught it and tossed it back upon him in mocking echoes.

On the morrow they journeyed in the plains of Anti-libanus, a vast arid burning desert, wherein was neither water nor verdure, and the men and the beasts were parched by reason of the great heat. Certain ones of the company therefore besought Saul that they might tarry by the way. "Let us rest till the heat of the day be past," they said, "then shall we with ease reach the village of Kaukab; there will we abide till morning, that we may enter Damascus before the hour of the great heat."

"We will not tarry," replied Saul, "until we reach Damascus." And there was that in his eye which forbade remonstrance. So they toiled on silently beneath the burning Syrian sky. The village of Kaukab--which is being interpreted the village of the Star--was reached, and passed; and now before them lay the city of Damascus in all its beauty. "The City of the Paradise of God," for so has it been called in every age, embowered in gardens of palm and roses, its walls and towers of snowy whiteness shining like "a handful of pearls in a goblet of emerald." A land of flowing streams, a city of cool fountains, set like a bit of heaven in the midst of a barren and thirsty land.

The exhausted wayfarers paused for a moment that they might feast their eyes upon the beauty of the scene, but Saul, with an imperative gesture, bade them hasten.

"We are not come to Damascus as one who journeyeth for his pleasure," he cried savagely; "we seek the blood of them that confess the accursed Jesus."

But even as he spoke the sacred name, some invisible power smote him to the earth; and a great light, brighter even than the fierce shining of the noonday sun, blazed round about him. In the midst of this terrible light he beheld a form upon which he gazed appalled; then was there the sound of a voice, and the words were these:

"Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me?"

True to the utter fearlessness of his soul, the man also has a question to ask, "Who art thou, Lord?"

And the answer came clear and decisive, "I am Jesus whom thou persecutest; it is hard for thee to kick against the pricks."

Then indeed did the strong man tremble, and he made answer from out the depths of his soul, "Lord, what wilt thou have me to do?"

"Arise, go into the city, and it shall be told thee what thou must do."

The majestic presence was gone; the light faded to the light of an earthly noontide. Yet Saul still lay upon his face in the dust of the Damascus road. The men that journeyed with him stood speechless, staring at one another with livid faces. They had seen the blazing light, they had heard the strange and awful sound of a voice, but their eyes had been holden to the vision of the glorified Jesus.

Presently Saul arose from the earth, the first command of his newly-acknowledged Lord ringing in his ears, "Arise, go into the city." But when he opened his eyes that he might obey the words, he opened them upon darkness. He was blind.

And they led him by the hand and brought him into Damascus.

CHAPTER XXXVI.

THE AMULET.

It was high noon in the desert encampment. The shadows of the palms, which had boldly displayed themselves in the early cool of the morning, had gradually retreated before the triumphant progress of the sun, till now they lay a shrunken heap about the slender stems of the trees, which in their turn scarcely dared murmur to their children of the coming hours, when the burning tyrant overhead should again be brought low and the shadows reign triumphant. Through the shimmering air came the insistent voice of dropping water, telling over and over again of great depths of refreshing hid away in the secret places of the rock, safe from the thirsty ball of fire above, safe from the hungry sands which crept uneasily to and fro about the rocky margin of the fountain.

The camels crouched in the meagre shade, their large, heavy-lidded eyes half closed; they heard and understood both the faint murmur of the palms and the voice of the water; therefore were they silent, being satisfied. But from within the tent of goat's hair close at hand there came the sound of voices. "These men," grunted an old camel, "they be forever making a noise with their mouths; why cannot they be silent, and look and listen as do we?"

This is what the voices were saying:

"God is good, my husband, and as yet I have scarce had room in my soul for more than the sense of that goodness which hath snatched me from the jaws of death, and with life hath also restored to me the more precious treasure of thy love. Tell me how it chanced that thou hadst a hand in our rescue?"

"It is not unknown to thee, beloved, how that for many months my soul was a very hell of fear and remorse. I was blood-guilty; I knew that upon my head rested the blood of an innocent man; nay more, I knew in my inmost soul that my crime was yet more deadly--that I, even I, had condemned to an accursed death the very Son of God. Yes, I believed; but alas, it was even as the devils, who believe and tremble and yet--are devils still. I cast thee forth because thou didst also believe, I, black-hearted wretch that I was, did pronounce upon thee a curse, then my angel fled and the curse recoiled upon mine own head. I will not tell thee--I cannot--how I tried to strangle the ever-growing misery in my soul; how I flung myself, heart and strength, into the deadly persecutions against them that believed; all the while with the mean hope that the fire would drive thee back from the heavenly path which thou wast climbing into the black road down which I was plunging alone. I saw and gloried in the death of Stephen; I gloated over the agonies of them that suffered beneath the scourge; I outdid Saul of Tarsus in the work of denouncing men and women whose only crime it was to believe on God manifest in the flesh. There is a hell, for I have sojourned there.

"One day I was told that thou wast in prison; that on the morrow thou wouldst be scourged--stoned. Issachar himself told me, with an air of mock sympathy.

"'She is less to me,' I declared to him coldly, 'than the stones beneath my feet.' But I lied when I said it. That night I begged Annas on my knees to have mercy.

"'I will have mercy,' he said. 'I will send a message to the woman within the hour,' and he called Caleb. I waylaid the man, and offered him gold to show me the message; he showed it me.

"That night I went to my chamber resolved to die before the light of another day, but each time that I lifted the dagger to my breast something seemed to hold my hand. At last I flung it from me and sank upon my knees, crying aloud, 'God be merciful to me a sinner! God be merciful to me a sinner!' Again and again I repeated the words till at last there came into my soul a great peace. God was merciful--I knew, I felt it; and then and there I made confession of all my guilt before him. 'I am guilty of the blood of him whom thou didst send to save me,' I cried, 'yet he prayed in his last agony, saying, Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.'

"I rose up forgiven, and the morning dawned. 'I will go,' I said, 'to the place where she is to suffer, and there before them all I will make confession of my guilt and my belief; then shall I die also.'

"But when I had come to the place outside the Damascus Gate--very early, for I could not wait--I fell in with the man Ben Hesed, and because my soul was full even to overflowing, I told him all. 'I will die,' I said, 'with them.'

"'Nay,' he cried, 'rather must thou live, that thou mayest overlay the wickedness of the past with the pure gold of righteousness.'

"Thou knowest the rest, beloved."

Then the voices ceased for a space, and the sound of the falling water again filled the stillness.

That evening when the shadows were displaying themselves once more in triumph, and the voice of the fountain had sunken to a low murmur because of the more insistent voices of the women who were filling their jars at its cool brim, Ben Hesed held converse with them whom he had snatched from death. Their talk was sweet and comforting, as of those whose feet had trod the margin of the river of death, from whose hither bank the traveler can hear faint echoes of the heavenly melodies of the redeemed, and where every breeze wafts the perfume of the blossoming tree of life.

"It is good to have been near death," said Mary of Nazareth, "because it is good to have touched the boundary of the life more abundant. There is no terror to them that believe on him that hath conquered death; 'he that believeth hath everlasting life.'"

Afterward, while the day merged slowly into the night, they told Ben Hesed of all that happened to them since he had left them in Jerusalem; of the last days of Stephen, of his death and burial; of that stern enemy, Saul of Tarsus, and his unrelenting hatred of them that believed.

"Nay," said Anat, after a pause, "I know that he would have rejoiced truly had we but confessed as he bade us; there was a look in his eyes that was not all hatred; perchance God is leading him into peace by some sure way of his own, even as he led the Egyptian, Amu. Surely, God's ways are unsearchable."

"That is a true word," said Ben Hesed musingly. "But tell me of the Egyptian, Amu."

So Anat told him how that he had rescued Stephen from death by the sacrifice of his life, together with all the story of their own wrong at his hands. "I would that God had given him one more breath," said the girl sighing, "for then would he have told us the name of our mother's kindred."

Ben Hesed looked at the clear profile of the girl as she sat looking away into the afterglow which still burned dully at the horizon, and a haunting memory of the past suddenly awakened in his breast. "Hast thou aught that belonged to thy mother, maiden?" he said, and there was a strange thrill in his voice.

"I had anklets of wrought silver when I came out of Egypt," said Anat slowly, without turning her head; "also a necklace of coins; but when I was healed of my blindness I made an offering of these baubles to the Lord's poor. It was all that I had to give." Then she was silent for a moment. "I kept but one piece from the necklace; I thought that I should like that one small bit of my mother's past. It is a strange coin."

"Show it to me," said Ben Hesed.

Without a word Anat took from off her neck the slender chain of wrought silver, from which hung the one token that bound her to an unknown past.

Ben Hesed took it, his iron fingers trembling like those of a woman. In that simple amulet lay a strange power, for no sooner had he examined it in the fading light, than all else before his bodily eyes vanished. It was a bright morning now, and the sun was shining merrily on a caravan of strangers out of Egypt. He was trading with them, horses and sheep and cheeses of goat's milk, receiving in exchange bales of cloth and divers weapons of war, together with utensils of wrought brass and jars of pottery.

"Give me also the horse," said the chief merchant, pointing to the animal which Ben Hesed himself bestrode. "I will give thee for it a bale of scarlet and another of fine linen for thy women."

"Women of the desert do not wear scarlet nor fine linen," he answered. "Dekar is the prince of all the herd; I will not sell."

"Nay then, I will give thee gold--fifty pieces," persisted the merchant.

"Give me an hundred," he had said, "and the beast is thine."

So the merchant gave him an hundred pieces of gold for the horse--which was truly a great price, but he paid it without murmuring for he knew that he could again sell for a greater to the king of Egypt.

Of the gold pieces there was one of strange device, and this Ben Hesed gave to his eldest-born, that she might hang it upon her necklace. The maid was beautiful to look upon, and Ben Hesed felt for her a great tenderness, which was a thing quite by itself and apart from the pride which filled his breast when he looked upon his mighty sons. The name of this maid was Zarah, which signifies the Dawn; and truly she was fair and pure as the first beams of the new day, ere yet mortals have sullied it with sin.

It came to pass--Ben Hesed saw it all once more because of the wonderful amulet which he held in his hand--that one day a stranger came to the encampment alone. He was sick and exhausted because of the hardness of his journey, and he begged of Ben Hesed that he might sojourn for a space with his tribe till he should recover himself. And Ben Hesed made him welcome, as was ever his custom, and the stranger tarried many days; the women also ministered unto him, for he was both comely and young.

And when he was recovered, he came to Ben Hesed and said to him, "Behold, I have received kindness at thy hand, and the springs of life are again strong within me. Now, I pray thee, give thy servant further of thy bounty; for there is yet one thing that I would ask of thee."

And Ben Hesed said, "Speak, my son, for my hand is open to satisfy the utmost wish of him that is an honored guest within my borders."

Then the young man bowed himself and said, "If I have found favor in the sight of my lord, give to me thy daughter Zarah for my wife; for I love her with my soul."

Ben Hesed looked at the young man long and earnestly, and his heart went out to him.

"Tell me," he said, "all of thy past; for thou hast asked of me the most precious thing that I possess, the maiden who is called the Dawn. Speak freely, for as my soul liveth, if thou dost keep back aught that I should know, thou shalt die accursed!"

At this the young man groaned aloud; but he told him how that he had disputed with his brother over the inheritance, and had smitten him that he died--for so he believed at the time.

And when Ben Hesed heard all he rose up, and his voice was cold and stern. "Go," he said, "that I see thy face no more. Thinkest thou that I will give my daughter to one that is a murderer? Go, lest I fall upon thee in wrath."

And he went straightway without a word, but he found the maiden, Zarah, beside the fountain, and he told her all that had passed. That night when all were sleeping, the two rose up and fled away from the encampment and were seen no more.

When Ben Hesed found that they were gone, he said only one word: "My daughter is dead." And from that time no one durst speak to him of the matter. But he did not forget, though long years were passed. And now as he held the coin of strange device once more in his hand, he knew it for the token which he had given the maiden, Zarah, so long ago. And as he looked into the face of Anat, he saw that the Dawn was again risen.

Then he called the two, and he told them all the story, and when he had finished, he said, "Long ago hath the bitterness passed from my soul; but there hath remained ever an aching wound which the years have not healed. God hath given me many wonderful mercies, but none more wonderful than this, that the children of my daughter have returned to her father's house."

Then they fell on his neck and kissed him; and all that were in the encampment rejoiced, and the rejoicing continued many days.

Afterward, by the word of messengers which Ben Hesed sent to Jerusalem, they learned that the great persecution was at an end, because that Annas was now dead, and the others of his family were too much taken up with disputing over the inheritance of lands and houses, to trouble themselves further about the religious beliefs of any man. As for Saul of Tarsus, strange tales were told of him; some said that he was dead; others that he was blind; while others still declared that he had been rebuked of the Lord in a vision, and that he now believed. But this tale was not credited of many.

"Let us return to Jerusalem," said Mary of Nazareth, "for I would fain know whether my son John be safe; then there is also the house to be looked to."

So they went back to Jerusalem for a space. Ben Hesed and his grandchildren also.

But Anna and her husband went not all the way. "Jerusalem is hateful to me," said Caiaphas, "and, moreover, we should be in peril of our lives at the hand of our kindred. We will go away into Galilee, for I would fain behold all the places where the Lord lived and taught, and where also he passed his childhood."

So the two parted from the others after that they had passed the wilderness, and they traveled humbly as pilgrims; sojourning long in all the places where Jesus had been in his life-time; and this did they for many years, till that Caiaphas was grown to be an old man.

"I am not worthy," he said humbly, "to write of all that he taught and suffered, that should be writ by the hand of one that loved him while he yet lived; but I can gather up the tales that are told of his sinless childhood."

And so as they journeyed he made inquiry everywhere concerning the child Jesus; insomuch that after a time the children would point him out and whisper, "Yonder old man is the prophet of the Child Jesus."

And after many years he made a book of these tales, and it was called "The Gospel of the Infancy." He took great pleasure and comfort in the work, and it occupied all the closing years of his life.

"One thing only do I regret," he said to his wife many times, "and that is that I did not begin this work while the mother of our Lord yet lived; for she could have told me whether it be truly set forth; but now I shall never know."

"Thou wilt know, beloved, afterward," said Anna, her eyes shining with a wise and tender light. "For it must needs be that angels watched with awe each moment of that earth-life; be sure that it is all writ in heaven."