An hour later the inn-yard was deserted, except by a single group of
persons who, notwithstanding their exceedingly diverse appearances, were
preparing to depart together. There was the party of Marduk, which,
besides the merchant himself, consisted of Eliezar, a Damascene, a
shrewd tradesman to whom were intrusted the details of the business; and
there were half a score of others who filled the various offices of the
travelling camp--cook, tent-maker, camel-drivers, muleteers, and the
like. With their clattering tongues and jangling accoutrements, as they
ranged their various beasts for the journey, they were in unique
contrast with the company of Jews who had accepted their convoy.
Chief among the latter was Ezra the Scribe. He was slight in natural
stature, which was further diminished by the bowing weight of years.
Long gray forelocks hung down from his temples and mingled with his
beard. His forehead was high and straight. His face showed the incipient
emaciation of advancing years, being sunken beneath the cheek-bones.
Restless gray eyes twinkled in their deep setting, and suggested his
undiminished brightness of intelligence. His whole aspect betokened
great amiability and kindliness of disposition, united, however, with
rigid firmness of conviction and powers of patient endurance. One who
was over-critical in reading the countenance might perhaps have
pronounced it lacking in indications of that self-assertion and daring
which fit a man for leadership in troublous times. Marduk said to
himself: "That man would never make a soldier; though he might make a
martyr."
The Scribe was accompanied by two young men. One was Malachi, whose
face, though not beautiful, was strangely prepossessing. The deep
weather-tinge did not take from it a sunny brightness, a sort of
translucency due to habitual high and pure thinking. His head, however,
seemed to overweight his body. His eyes were large, and wide open; and,
while really fixed upon one's face, gave the impression of being focused
upon something beyond or within one. His brows were heavy, and, at
times, seemed to project until they dropped new shadows upon his face,
whose lines contracted under the intensity of painful thoughts. As
Marduk afterwards noticed, Malachi was often absent-minded; indeed, was
never entirely otherwise. While engaging freely in conversation, he was
never fully engaged by what was said; and, though he contributed more
than most men to the elucidation of various subjects, one felt that he
reserved more than he gave; that he was a critic rather than a
participant in what was going on. He seemed to be two persons; the
greater personality unexpressed, but observant and waiting.
Marduk was not surprised at the innkeeper's information that Malachi was
the favorite pupil of Ezra, and that the Scribe did not hesitate to
pronounce the young man's spiritual discernment as something akin to the
prophetic gift. He even had said that, when he prayed for the renovation
of Israel, he could not avoid associating his hopes in some way with the
career of his young disciple.
Malachi's companion was in every respect diverse. Marduk noticed first
of all this man's fine physique. He was robust and muscular;
round-headed; red-haired; rollicking, yet quick-tempered; impudent at
one moment, and apologetic the next. For instance, while Malachi
reverently bowed his head, and waited until Ezra was first seated on his
beast before mounting his own, his young comrade seemed to forget his
obeisance, and, without ceremony, almost lifted the Scribe in his strong
arms, and placed him in the high saddle upon the rump of the ass. Then,
at a bound, he was astride his own restless charger.
Solomon Ben Eli whispered to Marduk that this young man was Manasseh,
grandson of the High Priest Eliashib; who might one day come into that
office himself--that is, if he could curb his restless disposition as
effectively as he curbed his steed.
The good host also ventured the further information that Ezra loved
Manasseh, and had said that he was "only like the Sea of Galilee, which
often hides its transparent depth beneath a ruffled surface."
Solomon added to this his own criticism: "If Manasseh once settles down,
he will make just the man to reform Israel. He has immense will and
courage, and draws the best young blood of Jerusalem with him. But if he
does not change, he will be only like a stout centre-pole of a tent that
is not well set, tottering in the wind, and endangering the whole,
however strong may be the cords and stakes. It is a pity that he and
Malachi cannot be rolled into one, be thoroughly mixed, and then be
evenly divided into two again, as the flour and the butter in the making
of two cakes."
Solomon parted with his guests, as they passed from his gate, with that
versatile courtesy which innkeepers and politicians alone acquire to
perfection. He reverently kissed the hand of the Scribe. He bowed with
great respect to Malachi. He gave Manasseh a whisper that provoked his
merriest laugh. But he pressed his hand heartily with Marduk's--perhaps
the sensation of the merchant's generous darics had not yet left his own
palm.
The cavalcade once on the road, Ezra made his grateful acknowledgment to
the Phoenician for the use of his beast.
"I would you had selected a nobler animal!" said Marduk, smiling at the
picture of the greatest man of the Jewish nation sceptred with a
donkey-punching stick, having declined the service of an attendant to
propel the beast from behind.
"The little ass and I will be good friends," replied Ezra, facetiously.
"His short steps will not jostle my thoughts. An attendant might make
havoc in my meditations by punching him at an unfortunate moment."
Then he more seriously added: "Know, good Marduk, that the ass is a most
honorable beast. There is a prediction among us Hebrews that, when our
Great King shall come, he will make his triumphant entry into Jerusalem
riding upon an ass. And, besides," resuming his pleasantry, "our
Psalmist says, 'A horse is a vain thing for safety,' as you will be apt
to find out before we get through the rocky ravine between this and
Enshemesh, unless your steed's feet have been trained like those of the
goats."
"I am told that the way before us is noted for the license taken by
robbers," said Marduk. "My company will therefore be a safe escort."
"I accept your company heartily," replied Ezra, "but will need no
protection. It is now many years since I came from Babylon. I then
refused to ask of the Great King an escort of soldiers, for the hand of
our God is upon all them for good that seek him. From that day I have
never borne a weapon, nor had an armed attendant. I have gone safely
throughout the land, and even among the Jews scattered abroad, and have
found no evil; nor will I ever.
"But the route we are taking will be of interest to you, I think,
without the hazard of carnal adventure. The deep gorge we are entering,
and up which we must climb some three thousand cubits before we reach
the high ground of Olivet, takes its name from the brook Cherith, and is
famous as having been the hiding-place of our prophet Elijah, where he
was fed by ravens during a terrible famine that came upon our land
according to his prediction. It was during the reign of King Ahab and
his Sidonian wife, Jezebel, a priestess of Astarte, who made Israel to
sin in following Baal. But pardon this unkind allusion to the worship of
your people. I would not wound another's convictions, however strongly I
might hold my own."
"Do not apologize for it," replied Marduk. "One should speak of his
faith freely in his own land; and I think also in all lands. Therefore,
I venture to make an argument for the Phoenician faith, assuming the
recent news from the coast to be true. Your land is famous for its
miracles, but Tyre just now seems the special arena for divine
exploits."
"You refer, doubtless, to the alleged translation of King Hiram?"
replied Ezra. "I have not investigated the story; nor do I think one
needs to do so in order to judge of it. It is, even in its own
assumption, totally different from the miracles of Israel. Ours were
openly wrought by God, with his high hand and outstretched arm. All
people could judge them; as the dividing waters of the Red Sea and
Jordan, the sun standing still in heaven, and the like. But the marvel
of Tyre was wrought, I am told, within a cordon of priests who
carefully surrounded the place. Now, a miracle wrought for priests is
apt to be a priest-wrought miracle. But--"
The conversation was interrupted by Marduk's horse suddenly taking
fright, losing his footing on the narrow path, and nearly precipitating
its rider into the brook Cherith, which gleamed, a tiny thread of white
water, far below. As by dexterous management he enabled the horse to
recover himself, Marduk laughingly admitted that he was enough of a Jew
now to believe the Psalmist's saying about the horse being a vain thing
for safety, at least in such places as this.
"But what have we here?" he cried, leaping from his beast. "This earth
did not give way itself. The path has been dug under, and only the
surface shell left. It is a prepared avalanche; and, by the rays of
Baal! there is an ambushment below. See! the villains are skulking back
into the hills. They were to tumble us and our baggage down there, and
then pluck us at their leisure."
Ezra raised his hands in prayer, and repeated: "We thank thee, O Lord,
for the fulfilment of thy promise through thy servant Moses: 'Surely He
shall deliver thee from the snare of the fowler. He shall give his
angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways, lest thou dash
thy foot against a stone.'"
The Phoenician was as much impressed with the beauty and tranquillity
of the Scribe's faith as with the horrible catastrophe that had so
nearly overwhelmed them; especially as he recalled Ezra's statement that
so his God had always delivered him.