"Shall I sing to you?" and the sweet child-voice sang:
So the time passed, except that, after a few days, Marduk took his place by the couch. One day he bore Zillah in his arms, and laid her upon the cot under the terebinth. Then he told how he had lain there with the same little angel of Jehovah watching him, the gentle Ruth.
The pure air of the hill country of Galilee; the simplicity of life among the peasants; the uplifting influence of their faith, so sublime, yet so consoling and soul-freeing; and the love of one whose heart was welded to hers in the fire of their mutual afflictions—these were the medicines which did more to bring health to the invalid's cheeks than all the arts of Egypt and Greece could have accomplished.
To remain themselves as peasants, communing with nature, with no cares beyond those of the fields and the flocks, was a pleasing dream that the lovers repeated to themselves, with such variations as the landscape has of cloud and shadow and color, while it remains the same in substantial contour.
But the project could not be realized. The sense of great duties he owed to his people impelled the Phœnician to think of a larger world. This may have come partly from his natural habit of mind and training, for he was born to rule, and nature left this birth-mark on his character as clearly as she depicted royalty in his face and bearing. He conceived a lofty ambition of reforming the religion of the Phœnicians into something conformable to reason, and inspiring to man's better impulses; purging its impurities and follies in the fire—let us confess it for him, since he did not confess it to himself—the fire which should be a veritable burning of Egbalus and many of his band of priestly bigots. Besides, he was bound to make this attempt in loyalty to Hanno, who had saved him from the cruelty of Moloch, and Zillah from the shame of Astarte, not for friendship's sake alone, but for his country's, and for the glory of the throne of Tyre. The wealth which he carried with him as the Tyrian merchant, Marduk well knew came from the private fortune of his friend; and honesty bade him return it in the only way in which it was possible to do so, by regaining his lost rank and inheritance as the acknowledged leader of his people.
CHAPTER XXXI.
The time came for Hiram's departure from the home of Ben Yusef.
"There is one favor more I would claim from the hands of my protector," said he to the old man. "You have been a father to us; we would have a father's blessing in making us one. Let me receive my bride from your hands."
"Let me look into your eyes," replied Ben Yusef. "Now as Jehovah liveth, and as thy soul liveth and feareth the curse of its Creator, answer me truly. Does any other woman than this one hold your vow? Our first father Adam commanded that 'a man should leave father and mother and cleave unto his wife, and they twain should be one flesh.'"
Marduk, following the custom of oath-taking among Jews and Phœnicians alike, placed his hand beneath the thigh of Ben Yusef and declared:
"As Jehovah liveth, no woman but this one ever heard vow from me."
"And she? Is she thy betrothed, and thine alone? Does her father live? and has he given his child into thy keeping? For I can stand as father to her, only as I am assured that I transgress no sacred law of fatherhood among Jews or Gentiles."
"Her father once solemnly betrothed her to me according to the laws of our people," replied Marduk. "In his presence I placed upon her hand the ring of betrothal she wears."
"It is enough," said Ben Yusef. "And may this woman bring thee the blessing that my own Lyda brought me when I took her from the tent of Terah, her father!"
Several days later the home of Ben Yusef was transformed into a place of festivity. The old terebinth was hung with garlands. A booth was erected at a little distance from the family tent. Though very simple in structure, it was lined with rich stuffs that well depleted the stores of Marduk, the merchant. These were arranged by Eliezar, the Damascene, whose ingenuity had never before been so taxed to fill the order of any merchant as it was by the order of Marduk to prepare the nuptial tent. The broad divan was covered with that rare fabric of white wool, grown on the slopes of the Lebanon, and called "damask" from the looms of Damascus, that weave its fine fibres, and prepare them for the rich red color of the dyer. It was curtained with lace, the handiwork of a Syrian peasant woman, and into the elaborate pattern of which had gone many years of her toil. She could have indicated certain knots that were made when her eyes were full of tears for some affliction; others wrought when her fingers flew nimbly as she hastened her daily task in order to meet some expected pleasure. Oh! if one could only unravel the secrets of the lives of the workers, and tell the thoughts they had as they toiled, as one can unravel the stitches, what history we would have!—a thousand times larger and a thousand times deeper than that preserved in the annals of our kings!
There was a mirror of polished brass, set in a frame of silver, the craft of Sidonians. And such a toilet of necklaces and ear-rings, of gemmed brooches and hair-pins, of bracelets and anklets; such a collection of tiny vases of rock crystal, of bronze, of glass, of alabaster, all containing kohl for coloring the eyebrows, or salves for the lips, or perfumes for the clothing. There was such a wardrobe of shawls and tunics, veils and sandals! Even Eliezar could not describe them all, for he had left the selection of these to Hador, the haberdasher to the King of Damascus.
During the day Zillah had been invisible. The mysteries of her apartment in the tent of Ben Yusef we must leave to the imagination of our fair readers, and to the knowledge of Ruth, who waited upon her.
As the day waned, many shepherds of the neighborhood, with their families, came to join in the festivities; for to salute a new-made bride was thought to bring blessing upon one's own household.
Just as the sun went down, Marduk emerged from his booth, arrayed in gay robes, and crowned with myrtle entwined with roses. His garments were redolent with myrrh and frankincense, and verily, as Solomon described the comely bridegroom, with "all the powders of the merchant."
The peasants formed in procession to escort the bridegroom from his tent to that of Ben Yusef, at the door of which, as it was her temporary home, he would receive his bride, and conduct her to his own dwelling.
Scarcely had the procession begun to move, when it was suddenly halted by an exclamation of surprise and caution from Elnathan. On top of the hill had appeared a band of horsemen. Elnathan darted into the great tent, and reappeared with a number of swords, knives, slings, and such bludgeons as made every tent an arsenal in those troublous times. The peasants were quickly armed, even some of the women taking weapons.
Elnathan advanced to meet the intruders who had halted upon the hill-top, as if they were reconnoitring the scene, or waiting for others to join them. One of the horsemen was clad in the dull russet leathern suit which indicated a Phœnician soldier. Another wore a white, closely fitting tunic and the projecting cap of a Persian. A third was dressed more as one of the wild rovers of Moab, in big turban and flowing burnoose.
The three awaited Elnathan's challenge, and answered it with, "Peace be with thee!" then dashed down the hill-side with a cry in three diverse tongues, "Marduk! Marduk! Marduk!"
"Hanno!" cried Marduk, and had nearly pulled the Phœnician soldier from his horse before he caught the admonition of his friend, and repeated louder: "It is Captain Beto of Sidon, as sure as Baal lives!"
"Just as sure!" was the response. The second comer was a stranger to Marduk, but at once recognized by Elnathan as the Persian officer in whose escort he had come down the valley of the Litany. The third was a Sidonian soldier from the house of Sanballat. A few words sufficed to explain their coming.
It was necessary for Hanno to communicate with Marduk concerning matters that could be safely intrusted to no one else, so he had assumed the disguise of a soldier and sought his friend.
"But I would never have found you in this retreat, though I thought I knew the way from your description, had it not been that I fell in with these good men, and discovered that this noble Persian, who was returning from Jerusalem to Susa, by way of Samaria, was directing this servant of our Lord Sanballat to find Marduk. But woe betide the man who interrupts a marriage ceremony! Let us all be friends of the bridegroom."
The new-comers joined with the merry peasants. The procession was re-formed, and, with Marduk at the head, approached the great tent.
Ben Yusef met them at the door. He held Zillah by the hand. She was clothed in white, relieved by needlework of gold. Her robe was gathered at the waist by the kishshurim, or wedding girdle, to be loosed only by her husband. Her hair was unbound, flowing in a cascade of glossy jet. A crown of gold, beaten into the shape of ivy leaves, was on her head. She wore a veil that hid her features, but fell about her form like a phosphorescence, concealing the sharper folds of her attire, but revealing their lines of grace.
Ben Yusef, placed the hand of Zillah in that of Marduk, saying:
"Take her according to the law of Moses and of Israel."
Then he added the blessing of the elders at the ancient marriage of Boaz and Ruth:
"The Lord make the woman that is come into thy home like Rachel and Leah, which two did build the house of Israel."
Then Ruth pushed aside the veil just enough to kiss her, and, holding the bride's cheeks between her hands, repeated the extravagant blessing the family of Rebekah used when they gave her to the patriarch Isaac:
"Thou art our sister: be thou the mother of thousands of millions; and let thy seed possess the gate of those that hate them."
The little crowd of peasants had in the meantime lighted flambeaux and small hand lamps. Elnathan marshalled them into a procession, which, making a detour over the hill-side, returned to the booth of Marduk. Here the couple entered. The crowd gathered under the terebinth, where, with feasting and songs, they made the night merry, until the east dropped its gray dawn upon them without a cloud—which they interpreted into a happy omen for the newly wedded—and, with a hundred shouted well-wishes to the merchant and his bride, they dispersed to their homes.
The Persian officer rejoined his own company. The soldier from Sanballat, who carried a letter to Marduk from Manasseh, set out upon his return. "Captain Beto" seemed to forget the proprieties of the occasion, and made himself a companion of Marduk and his wife during almost all the first day of their wedded life. The three sat under the terebinth, or walked together over the hill; the devoted couple apparently as deeply interested in their visitor as in each other.
Whether their interest in "Captain Beto's" talk was warranted or not, we must leave the reader to judge. He told of events in Phœnicia, some of which are recited in the next chapter.
CHAPTER XXXII.
After Ahimelek's horrid curses upon his daughter, he remained in a stupor during the day and night. When the morning broke, the servants found him sitting in a corner of his apartment in the inn of Gebal with his arms folded as if clasping some object, and talking incoherently:
"Don't go, Zillah, my pretty one! There now! Sleep again! You will not hate your father when you grow to be a queen, will you? Kiss me again. A curse! a curse! a curse on him who will touch a hair of my Zillah! What are those men pushing with their poles? Save her! Give her to me, Layah!"
Then followed a long period of weeping. Like a child, at last he cried himself to sleep.
Late in the day he awoke. He was a changed man. His hair had grown perceptibly whiter. His face was ashen-hued. From middle life he had passed suddenly into senility and imbecility. The terrible excitement had seemingly burned out his brain.
For some days he refused to leave Gebal. When at length he set out, and came to the river Adonis, he was held by some spell from crossing it. As his litter-bearers rested by the bank, he leaped from his carriage, and ran hither and thither, searching with wild eyes into every pool.
He then made them convey him to the coast, where the ruddy waters of the river mingle with the Great Sea. There he paced the shores, wringing his hands, now praying, now cursing. Egbalus and Rubaal were especially the objects of his imprecation.
They brought him to Tyre. He shut himself in his house. For days he was invisible. Captains in the harbor delayed their sailing, awaiting orders from him as the owner of their craft, which orders never came. Merchants from Sidon, with whom he was interested in joint ventures, returned enraged at his neglect of most pressing business.
The first to gain access to him was Hanno. From boyhood Ahimelek had known and liked the genial comrade of young Hiram; and now that he must have some one to speak with, yet feared everybody else, he bethought him of Hanno.
There was something of the old-time welcome of Ahimelek as his guest appeared.
"Enter, my son! my boy, Hanno!" said he, throwing his arms affectionately about the stalwart young man. Then he looked at the dignified form, the serious face of the visitor, and, as if suddenly recollecting himself, made profound obeisance, remaining with head bowed for a moment.
"My Lord Hanno! priest of Astarte, to be high priest of Baal-Melkarth! I worship your presence."
"Simple Hanno, if you will," was the reassuring reply.
The wretched man put his hands on Hanno's shoulders and scanned his face, as if making an effort at recollection.
"I—I knew you when a child, did I not? In this room you have played. With these same old swords and helmets you have played. Hiram and Hanno played, and I—I let them. I never told them not to play."
"Yes, you were a good friend to me and—to Hiram."
"Was I?" said the man, with delight. "And you have not cursed me, as a priest have not cursed me, because I was good to you when a boy? And you will not curse me?"
"No! no! noble Ahimelek! There have been cursings enough. But you sent for me?"
"Ah, yes. I remember. Hanno! priest Hanno!"
He drew his friend to him, and studied his face again, as if half in fear that sudden lightning might flash from it and blast him.
"Hanno! priest Hanno! can you see the gods?"
Hanno hesitated a moment, as if balancing his reply between honesty and some plan he had of using the superstition of Ahimelek, and then replied:
"I have seen all the gods there are."
"Have you seen Hiram, Baal-Hiram, since—the sacrifice?"
"Yes."
"He really lives?"
"Yes."
"Is blessed of Baal?"
"Yes."
There was a long pause. Ahimelek's face went through a series of contortions. With husky, hesitating speech, looking against the blank wall, as if questioning himself rather than his visitor, he stammered out:
"And Zillah? She went to Hiram?"
"She is with Hiram."
"You can see her?"
"I have seen her."
"Does she curse her father?"
"No, she is too happy with Hiram for that."
"Baal be praised!"
Raising his arm, he would have embraced Hanno, but his emotion was too much for him, and he fell across the divan.
Hanno lifted him kindly, and clapped his hands for a servant, who gave Ahimelek a cup of wine.
The old man was soon in loquacious mood.
"Captain Hanno, they are robbing me."
"Who?"
"Egbalus, King Rubaal, my captains, my camel-drivers—everybody. They will have every ship, every jewel, every daric. Save me, Hanno! I'll pay you well. Come, see what they would take!"
He drew one end of the divan away from the wall, took out a panel of the carved wainscoting of the room, and from a little chest drew by main strength a heavy bronze box.
"In this are more precious things than elsewhere in all Phœnicia. For years my captains have been commissioned to purchase the most splendid gems. Some of these singly cost all the freight of a bireme to Gades."
Then he whispered, as he tapped the box lovingly with his finger:
"The great diamond of Xerxes, that the Persians are searching for, is here. A handful of rubies, too, that a Greek gave me, to keep my ships in the far western sea, so that the Persian levy would be lessened. Ah! if my ships had been at Eurymedon, the battle might have gone differently. And you should see the gift of Megabyses for my influence in keeping the men of Tyre from going to help the Sidonians when the city was besieged. Oh! I have been a great man, Hanno, in my day; quiet merchant Ahimelek, as they thought me; a great man! a great man! And the harvest of forty years is in that box. Did you hear what young Ezmunazer, Prince of Sidon, is having carved on the coffin they are making for him? It is, 'Curse the man that moves my bones.' I have guarded this box with all the spells the witches know of, and put ten thousand curses upon him who should touch it. But now, Hanno, they are going to take it away."
The old man cried like a whipped child, and clutched his treasure-box.
"Who can take it without your consent, Ahimelek? Our laws will prevent any robbery by day, and you have strong watchmen by night," said Hanno, encouragingly.
"No, but look here! read this!"
He drew from a heap of papyrus and parchments a document. It proved to be a copy of his dowry agreement in espousing his daughter Zillah to Rubaal. He pledged to the prospective king the equivalent in gems of a thousand minas of gold, together with half the revenue of his ships; making Rubaal withal partner in all his enterprises. With this enormous price he thought to buy into his own family the throne of Tyre.
"But your document is surely invalid, since your daughter has not become the wife of Rubaal," said Hanno.
"Such were but the just interpretation; but Rubaal holds that from the day of the espousal the dowry was due; that it became his then, the death of Zillah being as the death of his real wife. And the great counsellors all hold with Rubaal. The Shophetim can assure me of no relief. To-morrow they come to make good the claim. To-morrow! Oh, good Hanno! priest Hanno, help me!"
Hanno thought a moment, and replied:
"Ahimelek, is Rubaal king yet? He has not been crowned, and may never be. Let this be secret between us. I am assured that the Great King, Artaxerxes, has expressed displeasure with Rubaal; and surely the Tyrians will not crown a king who will not be recognized at Susa and receive the appointment as suffete under Persia; otherwise Persia would send an officer of her own, and our king would be in disgrace. Tabnit of Sidon, too, refuses to recognize Rubaal. We dare not break with our brethren the Sidonians. I assure you, Ahimelek, that Rubaal will never be crowned. You must not allow this wealth to come into his hands. Never!"
"How can I prevent it? They will force my house. It may be this very night. And once possessing this, they will have money enough to buy the pleasure of the Great King."
"The gems must be secreted," said Hanno.
"But where?"
"Out of the land; under the care of some other god; for Baal will show them, as he shows everything, to his priests. They should be sent across the seas, or over into Jehovah's land."
"To hide them in some cave, or bury them in some wood? No, no. I would not rest day or night lest they should be discovered."
"Put them under the care of the god of the land, then. I can arrange that matter as priest of Astarte with the priests of Jehovah."
"Will you deal with me truly?" said Ahimelek.
"As truly as Baal lives."
"Swear it."
Hanno stood out in the centre of the room, where a sunbeam fell through the bronze-latticed window. With the light on his face, he kissed his hand to the sun—the customary oath before Baal, the sun-god.
The old man opened the bronze box. But as his eyes caught the lustre of the gems, he closed it again and sat upon it, asking Hanno a hundred questions, and taking from him again and again the oath before Baal, invoking curses of Baal-Hiram and Zillah, and every ghost and jinn that ever walked the earth, upon his proving false or allowing the gems to go to any other than their rightful owner.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
As Hanno, under the terebinth of Ben Yusef, narrated the substance of all this to Hiram and Zillah, he bade them feel the tough leathern suit, like that of a Phœnician soldier, in which he had disguised himself. The stiffness of the leather served to hide its uneven thickness, for its lining was quilted in tiny blocks, each of which was nubbed with some precious stone, or padded to protect some delicate setting or cluster of gems. He twisted a bit of iron from the end of his sword-hilt, and poured out a handful of diamonds. He mimicked the tricksters who draw pearls from various parts of their bodies, except that he left the pearls and emeralds and rubies in the hand of Zillah, and possessed no power of the wizard to make them vanish. He grew hilarious.
"Come!" said he. "Let us play the chase by the robbers. I will be the victim. You shall catch me and take me to your own den—the booth over there—and flay me alive—for all this skin belongs to you."
But Zillah could not be provoked into mirth. Hanno, in narrating the events that followed her escape from Apheca, had not told her of her father's curse, reserving that part of the story for Hiram's ears alone. She was oppressed by what she thought of as her own unfilial conduct; and in her mind Hanno's zealous interest in their behalf had led him into robbery. Hiram's sympathy with her awakened scruples in his own mind that perhaps he would not otherwise have thought of.
"I cannot take these things, good Hanno," said he.
"Why not? They are yours, and have been for more than twenty moons. Indeed, you should not only take them, but demand usury on them, too. Recall Ahimelek's dowry contract with yourself. You told me it was for a thousand minas, and for a half of all the revenues of his ships; the same as this contract with Rubaal. By the laws of Tyre all this comes with your bride. That he villainously sought to kill you, to break his daughter's heart, does not touch this fact under law, however it may affect your feelings. I did not steal these things from him, for they were not his, and have not been since the day of your betrothal; or if there were any doubt of that, they are not his since your marriage. And, by the name of Jehovah, into whose land you have come, to no other hands than yours shall they be given! Besides, you are not merely Hiram and Zillah; you are the king and queen of Tyre. They belong to your throne. Loyalty to your throne compels your retention of them."
"Nay," said Zillah, "your own pledge was to put them into some temple, under the protection of the god."
"The true temple of God is a man, and that temple's true revenues are the man's rights," said Hanno, oracularly. "I will fulfil my pledge best if I leave them at your feet, and go back to Tyre. I will then kiss my hand to the sun, and swear I have done my duty."
"Hold!" interrupted Hiram; "it may be that Manasseh can help us in the matter. He is of the priestly line, and perhaps can find a safe place in connection with the temple at Jerusalem. We need a better guarded treasury than our pockets. But you have not asked the news from Samaria that the messenger who accompanied you brought. I will read it:
"'Manasseh, son of Ioiada, of the tribe of Levi, to Marduk, son of Baal, and to my lady Zillah: Greeting!
"'My wedding with Nicaso, daughter of Sanballat, satrap of Samaria, will be on the seventeenth day of the seventh month, which is Tisri. My lord Sanballat bids me welcome you among his most honored guests. My own summons may be best read in your thoughts, O my friend, for thou knowest my heart. My salutations to Elnathan and the house of Ben Yusef!'"
The following day the Phœnician party left the hospitable home of their Jewish host. They proceeded southward by the Sea of Galilee, striking the road that leads by Mount Tabor. They encamped for the night near the western slope of that beautiful mountain. The sunlight that lingered on its symmetrical crest when the dusk filled the plain about them they interpreted into a good omen, notwithstanding that it was a superstition of the religion of the sun-god.
As the morning broke, they observed that a large camp of Persian soldiers had been formed near them during the night. Inquiry revealed the fact that this was the escort of Nehemiah, the Tirshatha of Jerusalem, who was coming from Susa, where he had been for several years, having assumed that the affairs of Jerusalem were sufficiently settled to allow his return to the Persian capital—a place that, although he was a Jew, still held many of his interests, and where he was allotted a high rank as the former cup-bearer of the king.
The Tirshatha was accompanied by a detachment of Persian cavalry, whose horses were tethered between the tents. By the central pavilion stood the tall spear; floating from its head the ensign of the commandant. Smoke wreathed from a score of fires, where the morning meal was being prepared.
At a sudden bugle blast the entire scene was transformed. The tents fell; the fire was trampled out; horses were harnessed; camels knelt to receive their burdens. In a few moments the gallant cavalcade, followed by the baggage train, and guarded at the rear by a detachment of horsemen, crowded the road.
As they passed the camp of the Phœnicians, now ready for the journey, the Tirshatha sent his messenger to learn who were his neighbors. Upon hearing they were merchants, he bade them join his party, and invited Marduk to ride by his side.
The Tirshatha was mounted upon a superb horse, equipped with expensive trappings embossed with gold; his bridle of silk inwoven with threads of gold; the saddle cloth a rich purple embroidered in gold. The rider's habit was in keeping. His purple tunic was adorned with flower-work, as were his flowing trousers. His sword-hilt was of gold, studded with gems. A massive chain of gold was about his neck. He wore the conical cap projecting forward at the top, as if to make a shade for the face. The officers of his suite were in array approximating in splendor that of their chief.
Marduk returned the cordial salutation of the Tirshatha as he rode up to his side.
Nehemiah opened the conversation genially.
"Marduk, a Phœnician merchant? The name is new to me, except that on this journey I have heard it spoken with respect. I thought I knew all of your trade who were accustomed to visit our Jews' land."
As he said this he gave a quick glance with penetrating eyes into the face of Marduk—a glance that took in every feature.
The Phœnician felt that there might be some suspicion in this, and deftly foiled it.
"Your people are increasing rapidly in wealth under the stimulus of your government, Tirshatha; and many merchants who used to trade elsewhere are now attracted hither. You will see many strangers at Jerusalem, my lord."
"Your compliment is more kind than considerate," replied Nehemiah. "Our people have little wealth as yet, and cannot buy much of such rare goods as you evidently carry."
"Yes, but by buying and selling my wares they make gain."
"You are going to Jerusalem, then, sir merchant?"
"To Samaria first."
"Oh! to deck out Sanballat's daughter for her wedding?" said Nehemiah, with a sneer.
"I believe she marries one of your people."
"Yes, but it is most ill-advised," replied Nehemiah, with undisguised ill-humor.
"How? Any alliance between Samaria and Jerusalem must strengthen both."
"Nay, it is an alliance of clay and iron that makes the iron brittle. Our people, Marduk, are of peculiar customs, religion, and mission. Again and again have our old kings tried to widen their prosperity by widening their alliances, but have always failed. The Persian government is wiser. It does not seek to make all the provinces it conquers to be alike in their laws and worship. It allows each nation to retain its own, and only asks loyalty and tribute. King Cyrus commissioned us to return from Babylon and rebuild the temple. So did Darius, and so Artaxeres has sent Ezra the Scribe and myself to reconstruct our own peculiar system. We condemn no other people by maintaining the pure blood of our own. Over yonder is the ruin of the palace of Jezreel. You know the place, perhaps its history. One of our kings, Ahab, married Jezebel, daughter of one of your kings of Tyre; but it wrought only trouble. We are now crossing the great battle-plain of Esdraelon. Every Jew thrills at its sacred memories. Deborah and Barak here conquered Sisera, the general of the Canaanites. Yonder is Gilboa, where Saul and Jonathan fell fighting the Philistines; and there is the valley of Jezreel, where Gideon vanquished the Midianites. All these were battles for our integrity as a people, and especially that no other God than ours should be worshipped in our land. Even a Phœnician, with your legends of a thousand years, must respect the lessons of our history. But let us not dispute, Marduk. What is the news of your country by the sea? Will Rubaal get and keep the crown, think you?"
"Why not?" asked the merchant.
"At Susa he is not thought of with favor," said Nehemiah. "The sacrifice of the former king, Hiram, is regarded as a cruelty that Persia must frown upon, even if she allows freedom of religion; and the other Phœnician kings are afraid of the precedent of allowing the priests to have such influence that a king's life is in their hands. Therefore the kings are all opposed to Rubaal, and the Great King would not antagonize them. He depends too much upon the Phœnician fleet to alienate their loyalty."
The Tirshatha plied Marduk with questions regarding all the lands adjacent, the condition of roads, names of the chief men in the towns across the Jordan: to which questions the merchant gave uncomfortably meagre responses. His ignorance occasionally brought those keen eyes of Nehemiah to a suspicious scrutiny of his countenance.
As they parted company, the Tirshatha remarked to his chief officer:
"That man knows both too much and too little. Have an eye upon him."
The following day the Phœnician took the short road from Dothan to Samaria, while the Tirshatha's party kept to that running by Shechem, and leading them more directly to the Sacred City.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
The hill of Samaria was in a blaze of color. Every tent of the army of Sanballat floated its gay streamer. Rivalling these were the displays of the various chieftains of neighboring tribes, who had come to honor with their presence the wedding of the Samaritan princess. The extravagance of Oriental fashion vied with that of martial splendor; gaudy turbans with polished helmets; brilliant robes with gleaming breastplates; palanquins of fair women with the mail of the heavy war horses. Furlongs of bright cloths hung from the trees, and draped the stone columns that still stood as the relics and reminders of the glory of this old capital of Israel. In cool nooks were skins of wines, while troughs were overrunning with the new-pressed juices of apples and grapes. There were jars of confections, spiced to kindle the thirst that the free-flowing liquors were to quench. Games, dances, songs, the thumbing of stringed instruments, the whistle of pipes and the ringing of trumpets, gave vent to the spirit of abandon among the motley crowds of people.
Sanballat entertained within the palace the great chiefs, whose spears, adorned with their various insignia, were stuck into the ground, in semicircular array, in front of the grand entrance. There was Geshom, the Arabian, and a score of braves from Idumea, Moab, and Philistia, who lounged at the tables. Even Tobiah, the Ammonite, was not forgotten; indeed, his presence was a special pleasure to Sanballat, whose magnanimity rose with the conviction that he had at length circumvented his rival in gaining alliance with the Jews. These worthies drank to one another, and to one another's gods: to the sun-god, to Baal-Shâmayim, lord of heaven; to Melkarth of Tyre, to Chemosh of Moab, to Milcom of Ammon, to Moloch of Philistia, to Dagon of the coast, to Succoth-benoth of Babylon, to Nergal of Cuth, to Ashima of Hamath, to Nibhak and Tartak of the Avites, to Adranmelech and Anammelek of Sepharvaim, to Jehovah of the Jews, and to Astarte, the goddess of love. With clinking cups and hilarious shouts they invoked the blessings of all gods upon the bride and groom. They drank until they knew not to whom they drank, each one making a god of his own belly. Then they be-praised every one his own possessions and prowess, and they scattered oaths and blows; indeed, all had a right merry time, as the proprieties of the occasion and the rude manners of the age and people prompted, until the soberer servants removed both the viands and the guests together.
At nightfall the hill of Samaria seemed a mass of flame. Torches flared upon the palace walks; bonfires filled the grove with ruddy light, amid which the trees and the moving people seemed like weird spectres.
A bugle blast sounded from afar. The crowds gathered near the open roadway that led to the palace. The clatter of hoofs was soon heard, nearer and nearer, louder and louder, while shouts rent the air. A band of wild riders dashed up the garlanded avenue. The soldiers and populace battled against them with waving torches, tufts of grass, and shrieks of mimic rage. The cry of the assailants was—
"Manasseh! Manasseh!"
They pressed up to the palace front. Some, dismounting, beat upon the gates. These were flung wide. In the opening stood Sanballat, surrounded by as many of his noble guests as were able to get upon their feet. With angry voice the Satrap demanded the cause of this irruption. A chorus of hoarse voices replied:
"Nicaso! Nicaso for our Lord Manasseh!"
Sanballat parleyed with them.
"Would you rob a father of his only child?"
"Yes," was the response, "and of a hundred only children. One for each of us if they were like Nicaso." And a score of witticisms, some sharp, some scurrilous, were hurled at him.
At length, with well-feigned fear, Sanballat led forth his daughter. She was elegantly robed and crowned. A spirited horse, superbly caparisoned, was led to her side. Without awaiting the proffered assistance, Nicaso leaped upon his back. The horsemen led her captive, followed by a procession of maidens who wailed in feigned lament the fate of their comrade, amid the amorous gibes and jokes of the young men. They brought Nicaso to the happy bridegroom's tent.
Thus far they had followed the custom of the East-Jordan tribes in mimic seizure of the bride.
Nicaso, however, delighted in breaking through all proprieties. The flashing lights and shouts excited her wild blood, and, instead of dismounting to receive the embrace of her new lord, she dashed away from the crowd, crying, "Let him have me who can catch me!"
Her horse was sure-footed and keen-eyed, and galloped among rocks and through by-paths without the guidance of even the single rein that his mistress threw upon his neck. Down among the tents of the soldiers, out on the high-road towards Shechem, back through the woods, now flitting like a spectre in the darkness, now all agleam with her bejewelled crown and robe as she passed some bonfire; thus the daring girl led, and yet eluded, the pursuing crowd.
Manasseh, though surprised at this unexpected postponement of the moment when he should clasp his fair possession, really admired the adventurous frolicksomeness of his bride, and accepted her challenge with equal spirit.
Was it the happy guidance of some goddess of love, or the quick eyes of Nicaso that watched his coming, that brought their horses together at two converging paths? Their beasts reared and plunged at the shock, like two waves clashing in counter seas. Nicaso's steed galloped away riderless.
Cries rose: "She is thrown!"
In fact, at the moment of the collision she had thrown herself from her horse fairly into Manasseh's arms, and, with crown awry, hair dishevelled, her black eyes flashing with merriment, a magnificent picture of wild queenly beauty, was borne by her lover to his tent.
As she jumped to the ground some portion of her clothing caught upon the trappings of the horse, and she would have fallen had not Marduk extended his arm and relieved her.
"Marduk, you have fulfilled your part of our covenant," said Manasseh. "Let me take my bride from your hand, as you took yours from mine."
The bridal pair disappeared in the nuptial tent.
For seven days the festival was kept up. Then the young Jew set out for Jerusalem with his bride. The Phœnician's party accompanied them. Nicaso's wardrobe burdened as many camels as did the merchant's wares. Among his rich robes was stored a strange article for such a collection—a heavy leathern suit of a Phœnician soldier.
CHAPTER XXXV.
The spacious residence of Ioiada, son of the high priest Eliashib, was ordinarily a rendezvous for the aristocratic circles of Jerusalem. The fashion of the city seized the occasion of the home-bringing of his daughter-in-law, the bride of Manasseh, and the feastings that celebrated it, to throng his court and chambers with such gayety as had not been seen since the return from the land of the Captivity.
The repute of Nicaso's beauty, the romance of such an alliance between a priestly house of the Jews and the family of Sanballat, their ancient enemy, set the tongues of all classes going. The multitude hailed the event. They were wearied with the exclusiveness they had been forced to maintain as respected their intercourse with neighboring people. Shopkeepers were delighted, for, in the train of Sanballat's daughter, came men and women from all surrounding tribes, and Jerusalem seemed about to become again an emporium of trade, as in the days before the Exile.
Marduk was solicited to open a bazaar in the chief street of the city with the assurance of doing a thriving business in foreign stuffs, for which the good people of Jerusalem had taken a sudden and violent fancy. But for reasons best known to himself, the Phœnician merchant chose to pitch his tents without the walls. Yet here he apparently did a lively trade; for scarcely a day passed that did not bring a camel or two down from the north, or a horseman up from Joppa on the coast. Marduk himself seemed to catch the spirit of enterprise, and attended in person to the details of business, which he had formerly left entirely to Eliezar. Many of the traders, especially those who came from Phœnicia, and who were presumably the agents of his business, he took to his own private tent, or walked with them apart. It was rumored that he was about to open new trade routes with Egypt and the East, which would centre in Jerusalem. That Manasseh was so frequently with him gave plausibility to the report that a great mercantile combination had been agreed upon in which much Jewish wealth should be represented by the house of Ioiada, the treasury of Sanballat by his son-in-law, Manasseh, and the heaviest merchants of Tyre by Marduk, whose exhaustless genius and money-bags were the inspiration of the enterprise.
But far different movements were beneath the surface of things. The religious sentiment of Jerusalem had been shocked by the alliance of the priestly house with that of the hated Samaritan. By many Nicaso was called Jezebel, and Manasseh denounced as a traitor who aimed at playing the part of a second Ahab. The venerable scribe, Ezra, seemed broken-hearted over the defection of his favorite pupil. His lectures upon the law became lamentations.
One day the three most notable men in all Jewry were together in the hall of the high priest. There was the venerable pontiff, Eliashib, a man whose broad and bland countenance was well in keeping with his elegant attire. His whole bearing showed that he fully appreciated the secular dignity of his position, if he did not feel the religious solemnities of his sacerdotal office. He strode up and down the apartment while he talked. Ezra, presuming upon the privilege of more advanced years and feebleness, sat in his chair, scarcely raising his eyes from the floor, except as now and then they shot the light of intense conviction after some sage saying he had uttered. But the most impressive figure was that of the Tirshatha, Nehemiah. He stood rigid as the statue of some god; only turning his head to follow the movement of Eliashib, whom he seemed to regard with mingled rage and scorn. Had he drawn the short sword that hung at his side, he would not have been more the impersonation of wrathful determination. The dispute of the men had already been long, and without persuasion on either side.
"I shall submit to no such dictation in the affairs of my family," said Eliashib, throwing wide his arms, as if to stretch to the utmost his priestly robe, and the aristocratic authority that rustled in every fold of it, and thus awe his opponents. "Be content with what you have done: that I have allowed Tobiah, Prince of Ammon, to be driven from his chambers at the temple. But know, haughty governor, that I move not another step at your bidding."
"Alas!" cried Ezra, "that I should have lived to see the law of the Lord openly broken with the countenance of the high priest, who should be its most zealous guardian!"
"The law of the Lord!" retorted Eliashib. "Ay, as the light that comes through yonder yellow curtain is the light of heaven; for so is the law of the Lord stained by the interpretation of Ezra the Scribe. Did not Moses marry the daughter of the priest of Midian, and Boaz marry the Moabitish Ruth? Is Jehovah become a god of cruelty to drive out the helpless women and children, because their blood is not like thine?"
Then fire seemed to flash from the figure of Nehemiah. He boldly advanced, and, laying his hand upon the shoulder of the priest, glared into his face as he said:
"The time for debate is past. Know you what I have done this very day? On my way hither I came upon a band of these renegade Jews who have married themselves to the women of Ashdod, Ammon, and of Moab, whose children cannot even speak straight the language of our nation; and I cursed them, and smote certain of them, and plucked off their hair, and made them swear by God they would put away this spiritual harlotry. And mark you, Eliashib, so will I chase from the gates the apostate Manasseh, though he be of the blood of one who has debauched the high priest's office."
Eliashib was furious, and hissed through his clenched teeth: "Not until you have first become priest and sacrificed the high priest upon the altar of your bigotry and madness. Pure blood! Nicaso's is as pure as Nehemiah's, which has been tainted by the Persian's wine, as you were so long cup-bearer to the crowned heathen. Go back to Susa and lord it over the pages, but you shall not lord it over me. Stand guard, if you will, at the harem curtains of Artaxerxes, but you shall not stand before the curtains of Eliashib's household."
The audacity of the high priest checked for a moment the headlong rush of the governor's passion. Or perhaps it was the training of the diplomat that led Nehemiah to reply with more deliberation:
"My decision cannot be revoked. As the Lord lives! I will purge Jerusalem; or, failing that, I return to Susa, and give back into the hands of the Great King the commission as Tirshatha. Then what? O blinded priest! Let Jerusalem perish again rather than become a harlot city!"
"The Lord prevent!" cried Ezra, rising. The high priest dropped upon a seat and sat a long time in silent musing. At length he rose, and spoke, more to himself than to the listeners:
"Alas! that the keeping of Israel is in the hands of such men as we. Our words are but wind, the hot wind of the desert, without the guidance of the spirit of the Lord. I would think and pray. Leave me, friends, before we further sin in our ignorant wrath"—and, gathering his robes about him, Eliashib left the apartment.
CHAPTER XXXVI.
Late that night the light shone in the house of Ioiada. A more stormy scene was there than even the one we have described. At first Ioiada and his son Manasseh were unyielding, but finally it was agreed that it would be discreet for Manasseh temporarily to withdraw from the city with his bride.
Though he yielded to necessity, the spirit of the young Jew was not curbed.
"I go," said he, "but I swear never to return until Nicaso and her children, if the Lord so bless our union, can come again without taunt or lessening. The Tirshatha is not God, nor the servant of God. Let him not cross my path beyond the gates, or he is a son of death!"
Great was the excitement the day following, when the triumph of the governor became known. Groups of young men gathered in the street near to Ioiada's house. Fiery speeches were made, denouncing the tyranny of Nehemiah, and deriding the senile bigotry of Ezra. Even the high priest was not spared in the oratorical bravery that swayed the crowd.
In the midst of their noisy declamation Nehemiah appeared, accompanied by a delegation from the elders of the city. The multitude turned their backs when he attempted to address them. As he retired some shouted after him:
"Put on your Persian armor and show how true a Jew you are!"
"What is the price of wine in Susa?"
"But here comes Malachi. Let's hear what he has to say. Ezra says he will make a prophet. Why not? Balaam's ass was one."
Malachi did not stop to parley with them, but turned in at the door of Ioiada.
"If he will side with us, we will drive out the governor," said one.
"Or dip him in Hezekiah's Pool," said another.
An hour later Malachi reappeared, and with him Manasseh. The young mob went wild with enthusiasm at the prospective alliance. But Malachi parted with Manasseh at the door.
To the surprise of the crowd the latter addressed them, thanking them for their show of personal friendship, but counselling peace.
"We shall be wiser to-morrow than we are to-day. The interests of young Israel need cooler heads than ours are now. The bigotry of the governor's party cannot last. The tide is strong at the moment—too strong for us to beat back—but it will turn speedily. Then we will be strong with it. One shout for young Israel, then let's go home and wait!"
The shout was given with a will. "Nicaso salutes you and invites you all to the palace of Samaria," cried Manasseh, as he disappeared through the doorway.
Cheer after cheer rent the air. Just as the shouting was beginning to subside it burst out anew, for upon the parapet of the house Nicaso appeared. Her black hair and flushed cheeks made a superb contrast with her white mantle and the jewels that flashed about her brow and neck. The apparition lasted but for a moment, yet long enough to make many a swain declare that he too would leave Jerusalem if he could have so fair an attendant, and so comfortable a residence in exile as the palace of Sanballat among the hills of Samaria.
During the day the house of Ioiada was thronged with friends who came to utter within its walls such imprecations against the governor as they would not have dared to express more openly, and to pledge their personal loyalty to Manasseh during his absence. Among the visitors was the Phœnician merchant.
"Make no preparation for equipage on the morrow," said Marduk, "for I, too, am summoned northward."
"I cannot go to-morrow," replied Manasseh.
"But that is your agreement with the governor, is it not, on condition of his allowing you to retire from the city without the show of force?"
"That is my compact; yet I must seek delay, for I have a higher compact."
"There can be no compact higher than that of a man's fairly given word," said Marduk.
"I can take no offence at your rebuke," replied the young exile, "because you will not blame me, when I tell you that I have given my word of honor to one who is of higher rank than the Tirshatha. I have pledged this person to discharge a certain obligation in Jerusalem, and I cannot discharge it before to-morrow's light."
"Who is above the governor in rank?"
Manasseh, lowering his voice, and bowing reverently, replied: "The king. The king of Tyre, and my king, if you will accept my loyalty. Has your majesty forgotten that you appointed me grand treasurer? I have so far kept fealty, and deposited the jewels beneath the very altar of God within the temple court. There they are in a little nook between the stones, full a score of cubits below the cave which I once showed you beneath the threshing-floor of Araunah. The old Jebusite never put such a precious harvest down that hole. And, for that matter, all the beasts whose blood has run through that vault since the day that Solomon slew a thousand bullocks on the altar were not worth so much as I have put there. But now see this order from the governor! I am to be unmolested, on condition of my not appearing in the streets or at the temple. The tyrant fears an insurrection against his cruelty, if I but so much as show myself. If I brave him and venture there, I will be watched. But as the Lord heard my pledge to you, I shall not leave Jerusalem without the treasure."
"It is serious business," replied Marduk. "Cannot some venture be made to-night to secure the jewels? Put me on the clue, and I will go myself; or bribe some temple-servant to fetch them."
"It is impossible. Nehemiah has seen to it that only the most bigoted priests and servitors are allowed in the temple precincts. The expulsion of Tobiah was done with such a high hand that the governor's party fear retaliation. A rumor was started that the Ammonite's partisans might set fire to the building and wreak their vengeance. So they have guarded it as closely as if it were besieged by Sanballat himself."
"Then there is nothing to be gained by your remaining," said Marduk. "Indeed, it is better that you withdraw, and let matters settle. When suspicion is diverted, you can return. The jewels are safe?"
"Safe as a rock that has never been uncovered in the earth, for no man knows their hiding-place. As a boy in the high priest's family, I was allowed to play among the masonry while they were repairing the temple court, and I know of byways that a mole could not find."
"Then nothing can be done until you can come back to the city, which must be before long. This rancor cannot last. Your grandsire will have influence for your recall. I absolve you from all obligation."
"With that assurance on your part," said Manasseh, "and a new pledge on my part that I shall not go five leagues from the city until the jewels are in some way rescued, I will join your camp to-morrow."
Immense throngs crowded the street through which, on the following day, Nicaso passed in her palanquin, attended by her husband on horseback. An unintermitted roar of applause followed them to the gates, and a gay cavalcade of young bloods escorted them to the camp of Marduk, which had been pitched some miles to the north, near to the half-built, or rather half-ruined, ancient city of Gibeah.
CHAPTER XXXVII.
Several nights after the departure of Manasseh from Jerusalem, a strange thing occurred outside the temple wall. It was just beneath the towering angle of the southeast parapet that rises high above the valley of the Kidron.
The night was dark, for there was no moon, and thick clouds veiled the stars. Two men, whose clothes, could they have been seen, would have indicated that they were common laboring folk, were feeling their way among the great blocks of stone that lay beyond the temple wall—a part of the débris of the ancient city which the enterprise of the new settlers had not yet removed. As now and then a temple guard passed along the wall above them, the men stood still, and could not have been distinguished from the huge stones around. As the guard withdrew, the men moved cautiously, like foxes stealing upon their prey.
"It is here," whispered the foremost. "Lend a hand!"
Strong arms tugged at something, which did not yield.
"The club! I have it through the ring. Now, lift!"
A slight grating sound followed, as if a heavy stone had been raised and slid upon another.
"Faugh! what a stench! No doubt about our being on the scent. Give me the rope. I've tied it under my arms. If I can't breathe, you'll have to pull me out."
One held the rope, while the other let himself down through an opening between the great stones.
"It is all right!" came up from a vault below. "Double the rope on a stone, and slide down after me."
The second man disappeared as noiselessly as a serpent gliding into its hole.
"Breathe yourself a little until we get used to it, as a fox does when he goes to sleep with his head under his tail. * * * Now for it! It's as slippery as the side of Hermon. Mind your skull! I've just cracked mine."
"Go ahead," replied the other; "I've played the worm in worse ground than this."
The men groped their way, crouching for perhaps a hundred cubits, when the sewer—for such it was—led through the foundation of the temple wall, and enlarged into a sort of subterranean corridor. The fresher air and the echo of their shuffling feet revealed this.
"Now for a lantern! A flash of lightning in here wouldn't be seen at the opening."
A small lamp enclosed in two hemispheres of bronze was lighted from a tinder-box, and sent a gleam through a slit in one side. It revealed a passage about fifty cubits long, two or three wide, and perhaps twelve or fifteen high.
"See this! This passage must have been built in Solomon's time, yet here are the workmen's marks on the stone in red paint. You can rub it off with the finger, though it has been here for five hundred years at least. One can well believe that the Phœnician empire is to last forever, when a Phœnician stonemason's marks last so long. You would think the lizards would have rubbed them out with their bellies."
The corridor came abruptly to an end, but a small conduit opened at one side, out of which trickled a stream of blood and filth.
"How now? That is the way we are to go, if we go any farther. We will have to obey the curse the Lord put upon the devil for tempting mother Eve, and go upon our bellies, as snakes and lizards do."
"It wasn't half so bad to crawl that way among the flowers of Paradise as through such a hole as this," replied his comrade.
"Let's go in, one close after the other, so that in case one gets stuck, the other can pull him back."
The opening was wider than it appeared. Pushing the lantern ahead, the men made good progress, and at length emerged into another large chamber.
"The devil snake ate dust. I wish he could have had the mouthful I just got. He would never have risked tempting any of the children of Eve afterwards," said the foremost man, wiping the clots of filth from his face. "But let us sit and blow awhile; for, if I am not mistaken, we are a good bow-shot off our mark yet. I wish you could do what the Tyrians think you did—change yourself into a ghost and vanish through these walls."
"I wouldn't do that if I could," replied his comrade, laughing; "for I would have to leave you alone in this hole. And, by Hercules! as the Greeks say, if I hadn't pulled you a while ago, you would have been as snugly buried as King David is in his stone coffin somewhere about here."
"Not far from here, either. I think I smell something as old. Do you know the flavor of mummy skin, Marduk?"
"Right well, Manasseh! and if my eyes are as good as your nose, there lies the mummy."
A dark object wrapped in cloths was close beside them. The men moved away a few paces, and turned the light of the lantern upon it. A bat cut through the light.
"We've startled his ghost," said Marduk, with a slight tremor in his voice, for all that he attempted to be jocose.
Manasseh closely inspected the mummy, and was about to kick it with his foot.
"No, Marduk, you kick him! You are king, and perhaps he is one of the Phœnician workmen who built this vault. You have a right to abuse the bodies of your subjects when alive, and, of course, when they are dead."
"He is too small for a workman, unless he has shrunk awfully," replied Marduk. "But it is not a body at all. See these knobs of carved wood sticking out at the ends."
Manasseh burst out laughing. "Why, it's nothing but an old copy of the Law."
Such it proved to be. It was rolled upon two cylinders, and wrapped carefully in a silken cover. Manasseh untied it and, by the light of the lantern, studied its characters.
"This is a rare document, Marduk. It has been here from before the sack of the city, in the time of Nebuchadnezzar. It looks very ancient. If I should swear it was written by Moses himself, you couldn't disprove it. For aught you and I know, it may be the identical copy good King Josiah found. It has been hidden here for safe-keeping, just as your jewels were. And they cannot be far off, either; for whoever brought this here came down from the temple. He could not have crawled up as we did; for, see! there is not on the roll so much as a stain of dirt, except that from dampness. If I establish a new worship in Samaria, as I can well do, being of the high priest's family from Jerusalem, this document will be of immense value. Ezra cannot produce a copy of the Law to compare with this in appealing to popular belief. I have seen all his copies. And now I venture a prophecy: With Sanballat's help we will have a temple on Gerizim, built expressly to hold this document, as the divinity of the place. Now for a contract with you, Marduk—I mean King Hiram. You shall build the temple for Samaria, as your great ancestor did for Jerusalem. What say you?"
"Only what I have often said," replied Marduk. "I shall help you in everything, as you have helped me. But I think we shall have to get those jewels first. Let's push on."
Manasseh hugged the copy of the Law as carefully as if it had been a child whom he had rescued from death in the vault. A few paces brought them against the wall. There seemed to be no outlet from the chamber except that by which they had entered.
"We are off the track," said Marduk. "Are you sure that we ought not to have turned into some other conduit?"
"How could we have mistaken it?" replied Manasseh. "We saw no other opening. Besides, we followed up the stream of blood and filth."
"But that has disappeared. See, the floor is dry. And so it was there where you picked up the sacred roll. Listen!"
A dripping sound was heard. As Marduk moved towards it, a splash of foul matter fell upon him from above, and extinguished the lantern. It is uncertain whether disgust or wonder predominated in his soul at the moment.
"What's the matter now?" asked Manasseh.
"Why, the bottom has fallen out of Sheol, I should think. Such a swash of offal as I caught couldn't be found in Gehenna. But, worst of all, the lantern's done for."
Manasseh broke into a low laugh. "Rub my sides, Marduk, or I shall split. Ha! ha! ha!"
The sense of the ludicrous was so largely developed in him that Marduk could not resist joining his friend in a spontaneous combustion of merriment, notwithstanding the untowardness of their surroundings.
"What now, O blind guide?" he asked, as soon as he regained self-possession.
"What now? Why, a lecture, of course, on Jewish architecture," said Manasseh. "You noticed that the temple area is flat. Well, it wasn't so originally. The Lord made a high rock, like a crown, on this hill of Moriah, the sides of which must have been very steep. And to make it level with the top of the rock men did not build solid masonry, but piers and walls, leaving great spaces beneath. These spaces were chiefly used as cisterns. In the time of Solomon they held enough water to supply Jerusalem for a month or two, in case of drought or siege by an enemy."
"But that wasn't water that struck me just now, and put out the light," said Marduk.
"No, that was blood; but it gave us more light than it put out. It must have dropped right down through a hole in the roof. That means that we have already reached the vault just under the cave of the rock into which the blood from the sacrifices first flows. Now, our jewels are in this very room. You remember I showed you the hole in the floor of the cave through which the stuff flowed? Well, that hole is just above your head. The wall over us is very thick, and in a niche between the stones is the treasury of Tyre. I can stand on your shoulders and reach the jewels. But here is a new difficulty. I must get out of this with my jewel, this precious roll. It is worth a whole treasury to me. But I cannot crawl back with it through that narrow gutter. Its parchment would be soaked with the filth. I must go out upon the temple court."
"But we cannot get out that way," said Marduk. "The court is patrolled by watchmen. The gates are fast. And if we got into the city, we could not leave it, for the city gates are closed also. We must crawl back again. Leave your roll for a better time."
"Never!" said Manasseh. "It's as much to me as your crown will be to you, if you ever get it."
"Well, then, we will fight it through," replied Marduk.
"No, that will not do. You shall not risk your jewels. You take them, and burrow your way as you came. I'll trust the man who escaped as you did from old Tyre to get out of this place. Let me go up the shaft. I will dodge across the temple court, and drop the roll over the wall. Come, I'll climb on your shoulders, and gain the opening."
The bags were reached in this way. One by one they were passed down into Marduk's hands, who passed up the roll.
"The Lord watch between us!" whispered Manasseh, and disappeared above. He groped through the cave of Araunah and out into the air, shot across the court to the south wall, and dropped the roll over. The noise of the falling object startled a temple guard. He came cautiously near.
"Who goes there?"
"Leave me, I ask you. I am the unhappy Manasseh. Do not disturb my meditation. I have sought the quiet of the temple that I might pray."
"But how came you in? All the gates are closed."
"An angel of the Lord hath brought me hither, and bidden me go boldly to the south gate when I had ceased my prayer, promising to open it for me."
The man stood paralyzed with awe. He knew Manasseh's voice. After a long pause he asked: