XXXII
THE CASTLE OF MASADA
Nadan would have been no true son of Yusef if the commission to escort the fair Jewess had not been a pleasing one; for the old Sheikh was known as the "Solomon of the Tents," and many a Shulamite maiden had looked upon him as "black but comely."
The paternal badinage with his son about the girl's breath upon his cheek was undoubtedly as unwise as it was unnecessary. But Deborah herself saved the young man from all temptation.
When Nadan returned to her she was standing with face uplifted, as when one is looking at some far-distant object in the lower sky. Her eyes did not rest on the summit of Nebo or Pisgah, whose grayish-blue peaks rose like gigantic towers on the agate wall of the mountains of Moab. Beyond them, beyond all the earth, her soul seemed to be drinking from fountains in the sky.
Nadan's approach did not at once divert her rapt attention. The youth felt something like resentment at her indifference to his presence. Did not the maidens of the valley sing and dream the praise of Nadan? And if his comeliness had been less, was he not the richest of the young lords of the tribes, and their most daring rider?
Just now, as he stood beside his splendid steed, one hand upon the lustrous mane, the other grasping the tall spear to draw it from its socket in the ground, his attitude was such as to fascinate any lover of a manly form. He was fully conscious of this, and kept his pose at first in the hope that the woman would notice him. Then he remained motionless because the spell which held Deborah looking heavenward also held him staring at her. His feeling of slighted dignity passed away almost as quickly as the shadow of a flying bird. Deborah seemed more than a woman, some priestess illumined with the light of her shrine, which was invisible to all eyes but her own. The Arab felt himself drawn to a kindred worship; at least, he worshipped the worshipper.
Slowly the rhapsody faded from her face. When she turned toward her companion she was simply a woman, with a girlish sweetness and timidity. Nadan had seen a flower which, when the sunlight fell upon it, burst at once from bud to glorious fulness, and when darkness came closed its petals again. Were human beings sometimes gifted with such powers? All his Arab superstitions about genii and other wonderful creatures who live on the borderland between the visible and invisible world were beginning to perplex and awe him, when Deborah's simple and confiding manner reassured him that he had only a human being to deal with, though an exceedingly fascinating one.
"I shall conduct you to Masada," said he, making deep obeisance.
"It need not be," replied Deborah.
"It must be," said the youth, with a tone of authority which, however, indicated that he was commanding himself rather than her. "The way is full of dangers. Few ever cross the great gorge of the lower Kedron; and none but those who know the path. All the wild beasts, driven from the open, find lair in its caves and thickets."
"Then I will follow the highway to Jericho, and there take the road by the sea," said Deborah.
"Men might be more cruel than the beasts," was the Arab's reply. "You cannot go alone. If I may not accompany you, I must follow; for my father's bidding I would not dare to disobey. He will require of me an accounting of my safe conduct of you to the fortress of your kinsman."
"Not if I myself release you from the duty."
"You cannot. Yusef is lord of these hills. Besides you are his guest until the shadow of Masada itself protects you. It shall never be said that ill has befallen the daughter of Elkiah anywhere within the echo of Yusef's or Nadan's bugle."
Deborah replied with look and tone that completely won her companion:
"Sheikh Yusef is very gracious. The house of Elkiah will ever remember his kindness this day, and that of his son."
Nadan fell upon one knee, and kissed the hem of her garment.
"I beg you then to lead the way at once," said Deborah, "for we must hasten."
The Arab readjusted the saddle.
"I shall walk," said Deborah.
"That cannot be," replied the young man, catching a glimpse of her broken sandal. "And see, even Emir forbids it."
The horse had thrust his long nose into her hands.
"Emir—the Prince—and does he not deserve the name?" said Nadan, who evidently shared his personal conceit with his pride in his beast. "Emir's stock is as old and pure as the fountain of Dûk by the city of Jericho, whose waters they say your prophet Elisha healed—Emir will have no other rider to-day than yourself. See, he himself says so," for the horse was rubbing his head against her shoulder.
Nadan made his hand the stirrup, and lifted Deborah to the saddle.
"Were the daughter of Elkiah as ignorant of horses as they say all Jerusalem women are, Emir would carry you as safely as if he had arms, and you lay within them. But you are no stranger to the saddle. Come, Emir, we must be to-night at Masada."
He patted the head of the horse.
"You remember, my Emir, the tournament you had with Ben Aaron's Nagid, which means the same as Emir? It was Prince against Prince indeed. Our lady should have seen us that day. Eh, Emir?"
The horse shook his long mane, pawed the ground, and whinnied his challenge, as if his master's words were the promise of another contest.
Nadan took the single rein and led the way. Neither spoke for a long while. At length Deborah gave a cry. Emir raised his head, and neighed like the blast of a trumpet.
They had climbed to the summit of a high hill. Before them stretched the plain of the Jordan. To the north a silver thread ran through a vast tapestry of green. To the south was the Sea of Salt, like a shield of bronze inlaid with variegated precious stones, so many were the hues which the soft and cloud-flecked light painted upon its surface. The plain of Jordan lay thousands of feet beneath them, a picture bordered on the east by the cliffs of Moab, whose many-colored rocks gleamed like piled fragments of a rainbow, and to the north by the white shoulders of Hermon, like those of a maiden who has not yet learned to shun the eyes of men.
Midway the scene were the gray walls and flattened white domes of Jericho. Scattered here and there, as far as the eye could reach, were clusters of tents. In one group were hundreds of awning-like structures made of black camel's hair. In another group were pyramidal tents, some white, some striped with orange or blue. In the distance these flaxen towns, with green fig orchards or dusky forests of olive for the background, gleamed like dewdrops on outspread leaves.
Deborah's cry had been evoked partly by the magnificent vision. Had Emir's big eyes detected the tents of his master in the distance?
Nadan pointed out to Deborah the various camps. The Jordan valley had become the rendezvous of the warriors of many tribes, waiting the decision of the Council of the Sheikhs for their contemplated raid upon the Maccabæans.
"The camps will not break up to-morrow, as had been planned, of that I am sure," said the guide. "There has been much division of opinion among the Sheikhs. Some distrust the Greeks more than they hate the Jews; and the news from Jerusalem that the Greeks have broken faith with those who, like yourself, have gone over to them, will destroy all zeal for helping the foreigners, as the dead water of the Sea of Salt yonder kills the bushes on the shore. I would rather make alliance with Judas, for every Bedouin loves a hero."
Nadan instantly repented this last sentence of his speech, for he knew that the Hellenizing sect of the Jews, to which he assumed that his companion belonged, hated the Maccabæans. He glanced at her face to meet her displeasure with apology. But no frown was there. She even put her hand on Nadan's shoulder as he stood by her saddle. He thought he detected in her look a tender passion astir for himself; for was he not a hero too?
"It is true that Judas is a wonderful warrior," said she. "And some claim more for him than skill and bravery. His people deem him inspired. Even in Jerusalem are those who avow that his victories at the Wady and Bethhoron were given him by Heaven. But what think you, Nadan? Is not all genius to plan great deeds, and all heroism to execute them, the gift of Heaven? I sometimes fear lest, except among those Maccabæans, and your own tribesmen, the world has forgotten how to be great. Oh, to be a man, Nadan, and to wear armor, and to ride a steed like Emir! It seems to me that I would fight always in company with the bravest and best, and call them the favored of Heaven, whatever creed or kingdom they belonged to. But it must be wrong to talk so."
The young man was intoxicated with his companion's spirit. He cried enthusiastically:
"Wert thou a man! Ah, there were a chieftain I would follow!"
Then catching his reward from her smile, his gallantry became two-fold, as he added, "And I could swear allegiance to the daughter of Elkiah, even if she were not a man."
"You are my protector," said Deborah, with dignified rebuke in her tones. "Let us hasten on, I beg you."
Nadan led the way. It was exceedingly rough. They soon looked down into the awful gorge of the lower Kedron, a gash hundreds of feet in depth, as if some Titanic foe had endeavored to strike the world to the heart. The eye could not detect room for the path of a goat along its precipitous sides. One might have said that an eagle would grow dizzy in flying across the mighty chasm. But Nadan led the way rapidly, followed by the sure feet of Emir. The beast, as if mindful of the need of his burden, picked his steps not only in the safest but the easiest places. Down, down they went, from ledge to ledge, through narrow crevices, now knee-deep in the sandy débris lodged in seams of rock, and now with sliding hoofs over brief declivities. At the very bottom of the chasm they crossed the fretting waters of the brook; then climbed the steep wall of rock beyond.
When they reached the top another magnificent view burst upon them. They were just above the Sea of Salt, its blue surface gleaming amid the white saline shores like a turquoise set in a circlet of silver. Down, down again they went, until, two hours later, they struck the level roadway along the very edge of this vast bituminous pool. The sun was past meridian, and soon the bold headlands of the mountains of Engedi to the west would shut out the light. On Deborah's insistence Nadan mounted behind her; and giving Emir the rein they sped rapidly southward. The glowing Sea of Death on the one hand, and the terrible cliffs on the other, would have suppressed desire of conversation even if Deborah had not been preoccupied with her own thoughts.
Dusk had already thickened the air about them, leaving only the bright glow of fading daylight to banner the mighty parapets of Moab across the sea, when there arose by their side the tall pinnacle of Masada—a single monolith penetrating the sky hundreds of cubits above them. Its base was an immense scarp ascended only by a narrow foot-path. Here Emir was tethered, and sent his whinnying salutation echoing among the rocks. Deborah needed the strong hand of Nadan as they threaded their way upward.
Near the summit the whole peak seemed cut off from access. A fringe of jagged peaks stood about the central cone, like the tents of a body-guard protecting the pavilion of a militant monarch. Within these natural towers the ground fell into a deep moat. This was crossed by a narrow neck of higher ground, an artificial viaduct admitting passage only in single file, and flanked by deep and perilous declivities.
The travellers were fairly upon this natural bridge when a score of forms rose behind them to dispute their return, and as many more challenged their advance. Ben Aaron lived in troublous times, and, as a Jew among Moabite and Arabian tribes, held his stronghold like an eagle's eyrie amid hostile beaks.
To the challenge the young Arab answered with his name. A moment later appeared a tall man, slightly bent with years. His restless gray eyes suggested one who succeeded rather by caution than by courage. He passed through the guard on the castle side of the causeway, and, making deep salaam, kissed the Arab upon both cheeks.
"The Lord be with thee, Nadan, son of Yusef! What good intent has led you to climb so high? There are no eggs in this nest for you to rob; and if Ben Aaron had a brood of his own begetting they would cackle their welcome to the boldest rider and handsomest Sheikh of the plain. That Nadan knows full well. Peace be with thee! But who have you here? Some distressed soul of my people, I see from her face. Yusef has a hard hand, but it is soft and tender betimes. That I have often proved."
"I have brought to your protection this kinswoman, the daughter of Elkiah of Jerusalem. My father bids me deliver her to your hands, in token of the peace that shall ever be between us," replied the young Sheikh.
"Elkiah's daughter? Deborah? Child of Miriam who was the child of Leah, our mother's sister?"
"I am Miriam's child," said the fugitive.
"I see it. I see it," replied Ben Aaron, pressing the black locks back from her face. "And but that Elkiah was richer than I, thou mightest have been my daughter; and such thou shalt be now, for I see there is need. Come, Nadan, you must break bread with me."
"My father's command is that I do not loiter," replied the Arab. "Night is shutting in the way, and I must be upon the high-road quickly, or even my Emir's eyes will not find it."
"Then the Lord go with thee! And Jotham and Joshua shall see you safely down to the seashore."
"It is not necessary."
"True, not for thee, but for Ben Aaron's hospitality. My love to the noble Yusef! and my thanks for this new mark of his goodness in giving me my kinswoman."
The two men salaamed to the ground. Nadan lifted the hand of Deborah to his lips. He looked into her face as if he would have its fair features stamped upon his soul, as a seal makes its impression on wax.
Her returning glance, and the warmth of her gratitude, though expressed in briefest sentence, "I thank you, good Nadan," sent him away with something else than a warrior's pride in his heart.