XLII
A CLOSE CALL FOR DION
"If the Lord give me strength to end it," said Gideon ben Sirach the day following, as he sat up on the edge of the couch, and rested his hands on the top of his staff. "If the Lord give me strength, I will tell the tale—if such you may call it—which has never yet passed my lips."
His black eyes, far sunken beneath his long and bristling brows, gleamed sharply with the effort to penetrate their partial blindness, and scan the faces of his auditors.
"As the Lord liveth! I may trust my words in your ears, Judas, son of Mattathias, whose father has a score of times taken from my hands the Passover Lamb, and slain it for the feast in my master's house. And in whom can I confide if not in the daughter of Elkiah, the just man, Nasi of our Sanhedrin in days when not even the gold of Egypt or Syria could bribe it to wrong judgment? And if this man be not Dion, page of King Philip of Macedon, and Captain in the army of his son Perseus, may my words be deafness evermore in his ears if he listens to them."
"Amen!" responded Dion. "I am your man so far."
"Aye, and let thy Amen be the anathema of an old man whose eyes in Sheol may soon look upon the face of my master, to whom and to God I go to render my account. My son, put thy hand beneath my thigh, and swear that thou art he."
Dion obeyed. As he did so Gideon put his hand upon the young man's brow, and pushed back the thick curling locks. He felt with his long thin fingers beneath the hair; then suddenly cried, with excitement that barely allowed distinct utterance:
"Thou art Dion, but not the Greek."
"I am Greek for as many generations as thou art Jew," replied Dion, laughing. "I swear, old man, that I am a Greek."
"The Lord forgive your oath!" replied Sirach. "But what was I saying? Had I told my tale?"
"No, good man, you had not yet begun it. We are waiting to hear it and to believe it, if it be not too incredible, for your memory seems as tangled as your tongue."
"Aye, and believe it you shall. There was once in Alexandria, in the days of Ptolemy called Euergetes—that damnable king who bade them gather all the Jews in the hippodrome that they might be trampled to death by the feet of his elephants—there was among these sons of Abraham one named Nahum, son of Nahum of Jerusalem. By a miracle from the hand of the Lord the infuriated beasts were tamed and harmed not one of our people, even as the lions in the presence of Daniel."
"We have heard the story," said Dion, impatient at the old man's prolixity.
"Nahum escaped death; but, having been a leader of our people against the tyrant, Ptolemy followed him and his children with persecution. He seized the estates, and sought to kill all his lineage. Nahum fled.
"Sara, daughter of Nahum, was befriended by a noble Greek of Macedon, who took her as a child to his own house. She grew fairer than the flower of the lotus, her mind brilliant as the diamond, her virtue white as the pearl. By most she came to be esteemed a Greek, for her father's friend bestowed upon her all the culture of his people. But the God of Isaac and Rebecca, of Jacob and Rachel, was with her. There came to Alexandria a son of the faith, as Isaac the patriarch came to Padan Aram. My master, Shattuck, espoused this woman, Sara. She bore him a son. But upon the child's face the father never looked. Journeying to Alexandria Shattuck was lost, whether by the hand of the robbers of the desert, or through the jealousy of others, I may not say—for I am too old a man to speak the thoughts which it were well to bury with my body. The child's life was sought, I know not by whom; but this," Gideon bared his arm, across which was the scar of a wound that had well-nigh severed it near the shoulder, "this arm took part of the stroke which, but for it, would have exterminated my master's house."
Dion had been listening not only with incredulity, but with some disposition to make sport of Sirach's story. He now took the hand of the old man, and gazed upon the scar as if it were an object of religious reverence. He then pushed his fingers through his own hair in a manner that was not his habit even when deeply thinking.
"Old man," said he, "if I were the baby for whom you took that slash, I would build you a tomb as big as Absalom's down there in Siloa. That cut would have taken the top off a man's head."
Sirach continued: "These arms carried the boy to the house of the noble Greek, always the friend of Nahum's daughter. This man suddenly disappeared from Alexandria, taking with him Sara and her child. I learned that they went into Macedonia; and that he might shield the repute of Sara he claimed her as his wife and the lad as his own son. Meanwhile I was in charge of the wealth of Shattuck my master.
"The property of my master in Alexandria was of great value. For many years—God is my witness—Gideon ben Sirach has guarded it. Not a shekel of it all has passed to others. Faithful men of our race have stood with me against those, high in the King's favor, who would have taken it. So long as the death of the child cannot be proved the estate remains. His death established, all will be alienated to the state, which in Alexandria means to those whose favor the King buys by granting them the liberty to rob whom they will.
"The child of Sara I have searched for far and wide. While the Greek lived he could not be induced to confess that he was not the lad's father. His pride and contumely for our race—no, I will not say such words—his love for the boy forbade it.
"When the noble Greek died a few years later, the child disappeared. I traced him to the court of Philip, where he was in waiting, and afterward, as he grew to be a man, to the camps of Perseus, and at last into the service of Antiochus. Wherever the armies of Syria have gone Gideon ben Sirach has followed, but with too slow a foot. When this new Antiochus—the Lord rot his bones!—poured his legions into our Holy Land, I pursued. But, as a Jew, I have been expelled from his camps—until now—the Lord's name be praised! My eyes behold the son of Shattuck."
Sirach reached his hands toward Dion to embrace him. The young man recoiled as if from defilement.
"Sirach is demented! Ha! ha! Dion a Jew! Dion ben Shattuck! Oho! But take no offence, friend, at my words. I have no doubt that Shattuck was more worthy of my paternity than I am of inheriting his shekels. But the whole thing is a dream of Sirach. His memory is as confused as his tracks have been while searching for his Dion. That I may have been taken for such a waif is quite possible, since I have been a homeless fellow—just the one to gather myths, as the crooked oak on Olivet draws flocks of wild pigeons to its dead boughs. But there is nothing in it. I am not your Dion, my good man, for all I like your story."
"Thou art not Dion? True, true," said Sirach, "thou art not Dion, because thou art Gershom; for so Sara, thy mother, called thee; for she said, 'He is a stranger amid a strange people,' as thy name Gershom signifies."
"Is there such a name among the Jews?" asked Dion. "I have never heard it. But what sign, Sirach, have you? I surely was never circumcised." He burst into laughter.
"Sign? Sign?" cried Sirach. "By the scar on thy forehead which my fingers felt when thou knelt, I know thee."
Dion was for the instant startled, and felt again amid his curled locks. At length he burst again into loud laughter.
"I have now the clew of Sirach's credulity. As a child I was known for my crown jewel, as my playmates called the scar on my head. As a page they dubbed me 'Prince' because of it, and now my cock's comb of a scar has been good Sirach's decoy. Ha! ha! I bethink me there was a fellow in Philippi, a Jew adopted by a Greek, who wore a split scalp. I got my decoration in this way. As a child I played with my father's great sword. One day it fell on me, and but for the hand of some god as helpful as the arm of Sirach to his little Gershom, I had never lived to become the hero of such a pretty tale as our friend has told. But now, Sirach, I will give you a challenge in turn—tell me the name of the good Greek who so befriended your little Gershom's grandfather, Nahum, in the hippodrome."
Sirach sat staring at Dion, as if his words had stunned him.
"Tell us the noble Greek's name, Sirach—the Greek who was Sara's father's friend."
"Yes, yes," said the old man, "Nahum's friend was Ctesiphon, Ctesiphon——"
"But I—I am the son of Agathocles," fairly shouted Dion. "I am not son of any Ctesiphon."
The old man rose. He attempted to speak, but his throat gave no utterance. His face twitched as if pulled by strings. He sank back upon the couch. His eyes followed Dion; otherwise he was motionless.
"He would tell us more," said the Greek, and bent above him, held by a strange fascination. But the lips did not move again. An intense longing came into his eyes, as if the soul would speak without need of voice.
"It is a stroke of God," said Samuel. "He will tell us no more. I surely thought he had you, Dion, for as good a Jew as the rest of us."
"But for my father, Agathocles', memory I had not cared," replied Dion. "If my sword be Jew, why not the hand that holds it?"
"I will send my servants," said the physician, "and have Gideon removed. He is taken in dumb palsy, a disorder I would study. In my house he shall have comfort while life abides in his frame, which will not be long; although I have known such to live for many moons."
"He shall remain here," commanded Deborah. "He is a true Jew, servant to my father's friend."