Hebrew Heroes: A Tale Founded on Jewish History

by A. L. O. E.

  CHAPTER XXVI.

  WEARY WANDERINGS.

  Hadassah had believed years previously that she had suffered to theextreme limits of human endurance--that there were no deeper depths ofmisery to which she could descend; but the news brought on that fatalnight by Salathiel showed her that she had been mistaken. The idea ofher Zarah, her tender loving Zarah, in the hands of the Syrians,brought almost intolerable woe. So carefully had the maiden beennurtured, watched over, shielded from every wrong, like an unfledgedbird that has always been kept under the warm, soft, protecting wing,that the utter defencelessness of her present position struck Hadassahwith terror.

  And how--the widow could not help asking herself--how could one sotimid and sensitive stand the test of persecution from which theboldest might shrink? Zarah would weep at a tale of suffering, turnfaint at the sight of blood. She was not any means courageous, and heryoung cousins, Solomona's sons, had been wont to make mirth of herterror when a centipede had once been found nestling under a cushionnear her. Could such a soft silken thread bear the strain of a blastwhich might snap the strongest cable? Hadassah trembled for herdarling, and would willingly have consented to bear any torture, tohave been able to exchange places with one so little fitted, as shethought, to endure. Sorely tried was the faith of the Hebrew lady; howlittle could she imagine that the prayers of many years were beinganswered by means of the very misfortune which was rending the cords ofher heart.

  In the misery of her soul, all Hadassah's physical weakness and painseemed forgotten. Before morning she had dragged her feeble steps tothe gate of the prison which held her child, with the faithful Anna forher only attendant. In vain Hadassah implored for admission; in vainoffered to share the captivity of Zarah, if she might be but permittedto see her. She was driven away by the guards, with insolent taunts,only to return again and again, like a bird to its plundered nest! Butno complaining word, no murmuring against the decree of Him who hadappointed her sore trial, was heard from Hadassah; only that sublimeexpression of unshaken faith, _Though He slay me, yet will I trust inHim_.

  Then the widow thought of Lycidas the Greek. She had a claim upon hisgratitude, and she knew that Zarah had a place in his affections. Withhis wealth, his talent, his eloquence, might he not help to save herchild?

  "Anna," said Hadassah to her handmaid, "could we but find the Greekstranger, he might afford us aid and advice in this our sore need. ButI know not where he abides."

  "Joab would know," observed the Jewess, "and I know the quarter of thetown in which he dwells with his mother's sister, Hephzibah; for I havedealt with her for olives and melons. But, lady, you are weary, theheat of the sun is now great; seek some place of shelter and rest whileI go in search of Joab."

  "There is no rest for me till I find my Zarah; and what care I forshelter when she has but that of a prison!" cried Hadassah.

  The two women then proceeded on their quest to a quarter of Jerusaleminhabited only by the poorest of the people. Simple as were thegarments worn by the widow lady, she carried with her so unmistakablythe stamp of a person of distinction, that her appearance there excitedsurprise amongst the half-clad, half-starved children that stared ather as she passed along. The street was so narrow that the women,meeting a loaded camel in it, had to stand close to the wall on oneside, to suffer the unwieldy beast to pass on the other. Hungry leandogs were growling over well-picked bones cast forth in the way, evilodours rendered the stifling air more oppressive. But Hadassah wentforward as if insensible of any outward annoyance.

  Hephzibah, a miserable-looking old woman, with eyes disfigured and halfblinded by ophthalmia, was standing in her doorway, throwing forth therefuse of vegetables, in which she dealt. Anna had frequently seen herbefore, and no introduction was needed.

  "Where is Joab?" asked the handmaid, at the bidding of Hadassah.

  The old crone through her bleared eyes peered curiously at the lady, asshe replied to the maid, "Joab has gone forth, as he always goes atcockcrow, to lade his mule with leeks, and melons, and other vegetablesand fruits. He will not be back till night-fall."

  Hadassah pressed her burning brow in thought, and then herselfaddressed the old woman.

  "Have you heard from Joab where dwells a week--an Athenian--Lycidas ishis name?"

  "Lycidas? no; there be none of that name in our quarters," was theslowly mumbled reply.

  "Has Joab never spoken to you of a stranger, very goodly in person andgraceful in mien?" persisted Hadassah, grasping at the hope that thesingular beauty of Lycidas might make it less difficult to trace him.

  Hephzibah shook her head, and showed her few remaining teeth in a grin."Were he goodly as David, I should hear and care nothing about it,"said she.

  "The stranger has a very open hand, he gives freely," observed Anna.The words had an instant effect in improving the memory of the oldJewess.

  "Ay, ay," she said, brightening up; "I mind me of a stranger who gaveJoab gold when another would have given him silver. He! he! he! Ourmule is as strong a beast as any in the city, but it never brought ussuch a day's hire before."

  "When was that?" asked Hadassah.

  "Two days since, when Joab had taken the youth to his home."

  "Can you tell me where that home is?" inquired Hadassah with eagerness.

  "Wait--let me think," mumbled Hephzibah.

  Hadassah thrust a coin into the hand of seller of fruit. Hephzibahturned it round and round, looking at it as if she thought that theexamination of the money would help her in giving her answer. It cameat last, but slowly: "Ay, I mind me that Joab said that he took thestranger to the large house, with a court, on the left side of the westgate, which Apollonius" (she muttered a curse) "broke down."

  This was clue sufficient; and thankful at having gained one, Hadassahwith her attendant left the stifling precincts of Hephzibah's dwellingto find out that of the Greek. Terrible were the glare and heat of thenoonday sun, and long appeared the distance to be traversed, yetHadassah did not even slacken her steps till she approached thegymnasium erected by the renegade high-priest Jason. With difficultyshe made her way through crowds of Syrians and others hastening to theplace of amusement.

  Hadassah groaned, but it was not from weariness; she turned away hereyes from the building which had been to so many of her people as thegate of perdition, and the merry voices of the pleasure-seekers soundedsadder to her ears than a wail uttered over the dead. Precious soulshad been murdered in that gymnasium; the Hebrew mother thought of herown lost son!

  Almost dropping from fatigue, Hadassah reached at last the place whichHephzibah had described. It was an inn of the better sort, kept by anAthenian named Cimon, who had established himself in Jerusalem.Hadassah had no difficulty in obtaining an interview with the host, whoreceived her with the courtesy befitting a citizen of one of the mostpolished cities then to be found in the world. Cimon offered the ladya seat under the shadow of the massive gateway leading into hiscourtyard.

  "Dwells the Lord Lycidas here?" asked Hadassah faintly. She couldhardly speak; her tongue seemed to cleave to the roof of her mouth fromheat, fatigue, and excitement.

  "The Lord Lycidas left this place yesterday lady," said the Greek.

  "Whither has he gone?" gasped Hadassah.

  "I know not--he told me not whither," answered Cimon, surveying hisquestioner with compassion and curiosity. "Months have elapsed sincethe Athenian lord, after honouring this roof by his sojourn under it,suddenly disappeared. Search was made for him in vain. I feared thatevil had happened to my guest, and as time rolled on and brought notidings, I sent word to his friends in Athens, asking what should bedone with property left under my charge by him who, as I deemed, hadmet an untimely end. Ere the answer arrived, the Lord Lycidas himselfappeared at my door, but in evil plight, weak in body and troubled inmind. He would give no account of the past; he said not where he hadsojourned; and yester-morn, though scarcely strong enough to keep thesaddle, he mounted his horse, and rode off--I know not
whither; norsaid he when he would return. If the lady be a friend of the LordLycidas," continued the Athenian, whose curiosity was strongly excited,"perhaps she may favour me by throwing light upon the mystery whichattends his movements."

  But Hadassah had come to gain information, not to impart it. "I cannotlinger here," she said, "but if Lycidas return tell him, I earnestlycharge you, that the child of one who nursed him in sickness is now theprisoner of the Syrian king!"

  Grievously disappointed and disheartened by her failure, Hadassah thenturned away from the dwelling of the Greek.

  "Oh, lady, rest, or you will sink from fatigue!" cried Anna, whose ownsturdy frame was suffering from the effect of efforts of half of which,a day before, she would have dreamed her mistress utterly incapable.

  Hadassah made no reply; she sank rather than seated herself under thenarrow strip of shade afforded by a dead wall. The lady covered herface; Anna knew from the slight movement of her bowed head thatHadassah was praying.

  Presently the Hebrew lady raised her head; she was deadly pale, butcalm.

  "I cannot stay here," she murmured. "I must know the fate of my child.Anna, let us return to the prison." Even with the aid of her handmaid,the lady was scarcely able to rise.

  The twain reached the gate of the prison. A group of Syrian guardskept watch there. The appearance of the venerable sufferer, bowed downunder such a weight of affliction, moved one of the soldiers to pity.

  "You come on a fruitless errand, lady," he said, "the maiden whom youseek is not here."

  "Dead?" faintly gasped forth Hadassah.

  "No, no; not dead," answered the Syrian promptly. "I know not all thathas happened, but the young girl was certainly brought before the king."

  "Before him who murdered Solomona and her boys--the ruthless fiend!"was the scathing thought that passed through the brain of Hadassah."And what followed?" she asked with her eyes, for her lips could notframe the question.

  "Belikes the king thought it shame to kill such a pretty bird, so keptit to make music for him in his gardens of joy," said the guard. "Allthat I can say is, that the maiden was not sent back to prison, butremains in the palace."

  "The palace!" ejaculated Hadassah; more distressed than reassured bysuch information.

  "Of course," cried another soldier, with a brutal jest; "the girl wasnot going to commit the folly of dying for her superstitions like abigoted fanatic old woman, with no more sense than the staff she leanson! Of course, the maid did what any woman in her senses woulddo,--worshipped whatever the king bade her worship, the Muses, theGraces, or the Furies. Converts are easily made at her age, with allkinds of torments on the one side, all kinds of delights on the other."

  Hadassah turned slowly away from the spot. Could the soldier's wordsbe true? had Zarah forsworn her faith as her father had done, thoughunder circumstances so different?

  "Oh! God will forgive her--He will forgive my poor lost child, if shehave failed under such an awful trial!" murmured the Hebrew lady,pressing her hand to her side, as if to keep her heart from bursting.But Hadassah was by no means sure that Zarah's resolution had indeedgiven way. She determined at all events and at any hazard to see themaiden; and, collecting all her strength, proceded at once to thepalace. The unhappy lady ought have guessed beforehand that it wouldbe a hopeless attempt to gain admittance into that magnificent abode ofluxury, cruelty, and crime. The guards only mocked at her prayer to bepermitted to see the captive Hebrew maiden.

  "Then I must speak to the king himself!" cried Hadassah. "I will watchtill he leave the gate."

  "The king goes not forth to-day," said a Syrian noble who was quittingthe palace, and who was struck by the earnestness of the aged widow,and, the anguish depicted on her noble features. "But Antiochus ridesforth to-morrow, soon after sunrise."

  "Then," thought Hadassah, "daybreak shall find me here. I will clingto the stirrup of Antiochus. I will constrain the tyrant to listen.God will inspire my lips with eloquence. He will touch the heart ofthe king. I may yet persuade the tyrant to accept one life instead ofanother. Oh! my Zarah, child of my heart, it were bliss to suffer foryou!"

  Clinging to this last forlorn hope, Hadassah allowed herself at last tobe persuaded by Anna to seek the residence of a Hebrew family, withwhom she was slightly acquainted; there to partake of a little food,lie down and attempt to sleep. Snatches of slumber came at last to thewidow, slumber filled with dreams. Hadassah thought that she saw herson, her Abner, bright, joyous, and happy as he had been in his youth.Then the scene changed to own home. Hadassah fancied that Zarah hadunexpectedly returned; in delight she clasped the rescued maid to herheart, and then, to her astonishment, found that it was not Zarah, butZarah's father, whom she clasped in her arms! It was strange thatdreams of joy should come in the midst of so much anguish, so that asmile should actually play on the grief-worn features of Hadassah. Wassome good spirit whispering in her ear, "While you are sleeping yourson is praying. Your supplications for him are answered at last?"

  But Hadassah lost little time in sleep. While the stars yet gleamed inthe sky, the lady aroused Anna, who was slumbering heavily at her feet.The handmaid arose, and without awakening the household, Hadassah andher attendant noiselessly quitted the hospitable dwelling which hadafforded them shelter, and turned their steps again in the direction ofthe stately palace of Antiochus Epiphanes.

  As the two women traversed the silent, narrow, deserted streets, theysuddenly, at the angle formed by a transverse road, came upon a youngman, whose rapid step indicated impatience or fear. He was moving withsuch eager speed that he almost struck against Hadassah, before hecould arrest his quick movements.

  "Ha! Hadassah!"

  "Lycidas! Heaven be praised!" were the exclamations uttered in abreath by the Greek and the Hebrew.

  "Is it--can it be true--Zarah--captive--in peril?" cried the young man,whom the tidings of the attack on Salathiel's dwelling, and the captureof a maiden, had casually reached that night at Bethlehem, where he wassojourning, and whom these tidings had brought in all speed toJerusalem. Lycidas had ridden first to the house of Cimon, where themessage left by Hadassah had confirmed his worst fears. Leaving hishorse, which had fallen lame on the rocky road, he had hurried off onfoot to the palace, with no definite plan of action before him, butresolved at any rate to seek an interview with the king.

  "Zarah is prisoner in yon palace," said Hadassah, "you will do all inyour power to save her?"

  "I would die for her!" was the reply,

  Hadassah in few words made known to the young Athenian her ownintention to await at the palace gate the going forth of Antiochus, andplead with the Syrian king for the life and freedom of Zarah. The ladywas thankful to accept the eager offer of Lycidas to remain beside her,and support her petition with the weight of any influence which hemight have with the tyrant, small as he judged that influence to be.Hadassah, thankful at having found a zealous friend to aid her, leanton the arm of Lycidas as she might have done on that of a son.Difference in nation and creed was for awhile forgotten; the two wereunited by one great love and one great fear, and the Gentile could,with the soul's deepest fervour, say "Amen" to the Hebrew's prayer.