_Prisoners in a Labyrinth_
[Sidenote: Before the Fortress]
The day passed anxiously, for every sound of the huge fortress was heard
in the thicket. The creaking of machines, brought up to the walls against
future assault; the rattling of hammers; the rolling of wagons loaded
with materials for the repair of the night’s damage; the calls of trumpet
and clarion, and the march of patrols, rang perpetually in our ears. The
depth of the copse justified the beggar’s generalship, and the son of El
Hakim proved himself a master of the art of castrametation. Nothing could
exceed his alertness in threading the mazes of this dwarf forest, where
a wolf could scarcely have made progress and where a lynx would have
required all his eyes.
On my asking how he contrived to find his way through this labyrinth, he
told me, that “for making one’s way in woods and elsewhere, there was
nothing like a familiarity with smuggling and affairs of state.”
“The man,” continued he, “who has driven a trade in everything, from
pearls to pistachios, without leave of the customs, can not be much
puzzled by thickets; and the man who has contrived to climb into
confidence at court must have had a talent for keeping his feet in the
most slippery spots, or he never could have mounted the back stairs.”
[Sidenote: The Sound of the Enemy]
He collected the scattered troop, of whom but few had fallen, tho
nearly one half were made prisoners; they were eager to attempt the
rampart again, all boldly attributing their failure to accident, and all
thirsting alike for the rescue of their comrades and for revenge. The
letter was given to our emissary, and I ascended the loftiest of the
mountain pinnacles, to examine for myself the nature of the ground. From
my height the view was complete; the whole interior of the fortress lay
open, and in the same glance I saw the grandeur of design which Greek
taste could stamp even upon the strength of military architecture, and
the utter hopelessness of any direct assault upon Masada[32] by less than
an army.
Who but he that has actually been in the same situation, can conceive the
feelings with which I gazed! Below me was the spot in which a few hours
must see me conqueror or nothing! On that battlement I might, before
another morn, be stretched in blood! On that tower I might be fixed a
horrid spectacle! Nature is irresistible, and her workings, for a while,
overpowered even the belief in my mysterious sentence. The thought has
always terribly returned, but the moment of energy has ever extinguished
it; the hurrying and swelling current of my heart rolled over it, as the
winter torrent rushes over the tomb on its brink. The melancholy memorial
was there, sure to reappear with the first subsiding, but lost while the
flood of feeling whirled along. Every group of soldiery that sang, or
gamed, or gazed, along the ramparts, under the bright and quiet day which
followed so fearful a night; every archer pacing on his tower; every
change of the guard; every entering courier, was visible to me, and all
were objects of keen interest.
At length my courier came. I saw his approach from a pass of the
mountains at the remotest point from our cover, his well-contrived
exhaustion, and the fearless impudence with which he beguiled the sulky
guard at the gate, and stalked before the centurion by whom he was
brought to the governor.
[Sidenote: The Roman Reenforcement]
With what eyes of impatience I now watched the sun. As the hour of fate
approached, the fever of the mind grew. To defer the attack beyond the
night was to abandon it, for by morn the troops under Florus must reach
Masada. Yet a strange sensation, a chilliness of heart sometimes came
on me, in which my hands were as feeble as an infant’s. Nothing tries
the soul more deeply than this concentration of its fortunes into a
few moments. The man sees himself standing on the edge of a precipice,
down which there is no second step. But the thought of returning
errandless and humiliated, and this, too, from my first enterprise, was
intolerable. I made my decision.
From that instant I breathed freely, my strength returned, hope glowed
in my bosom, and clinging to the granite spire of the mountain, I looked
down upon the haughty stronghold, like its evil genius descending from
the clouds. The sun touched the western ridge. A horseman came at full
speed across the plain at its foot and entered the fortress. He evidently
brought news of importance, for the troops were hurried under arms,
flags hoisted on the ramparts, and the walls lined with archers. All was
military bustle.
My first conception was, that my emissary had betrayed us, and that we
were about to be attacked. I plunged from the pinnacle, and was following
the windings of the goat track to our lair, when I saw the rising of
a cloud of dust in the distance. It moved with rapidity, and soon
developed its contents. Intelligence of the assault had reached Florus.
His sagacity saw what perils turned on the loss of the fortress; he
shook off his indolence, and came without delay to its succor. Banners,
helmets, and scarlet cloaks poured across the plain. A torrent of brass,
burning and flashing in the sunbeam, continued to roll down the defile,
and before the evening star glittered the whole cavalry of the fifteenth
legion was trampling over the drawbridge of Masada. Here was the
death-blow. My enterprise was henceforth tenfold more hopeless; but with
me the time for prudence was past. If the reenforcement had arrived but
an hour before, I should probably have given up the attempt in despair.
But my mind was now fixed; I had made an internal vow, and if the whole
host of Rome was crowded within the walls beneath me, I should have
hazarded the assault.
I descended, found my troop collected, and, to my alarm and vexation,
Constantius, enfeebled as he was, obstinately determined to assault the
rampart again. With the daring of his enthusiastic heart he told me that
unless I suffered him to attempt the retrieval of his defeat, he felt it
impossible to survive.
[Sidenote: In the Subterranean]
“Shame and grief,” said he, “are as deadly as the sword, and never will
I return to the face of her whom I love, or of the family whom I honor,
unless I can return with the consciousness of having at least deserved to
be successful.”
Against this I reasoned, but reasoned in vain. We finally divided our
followers. I gave him the attack of the rampart, which was to be the
place of his triumph or his grave; flung myself into his embrace, and
listened to his parting steps with a heart throbbing at every tread. I
then moved round the foot of the mountain toward the secret passage. The
night fell as dark as we could wish. I waited impatiently for the signal,
a light from the walls. Yet no signal twinkled from wall or tower, and
I began to distrust again; but while I lingered, a shout told me that
Constantius was already engaged.
“Let what will, come,” exclaimed I; “onward!”
We scrambled up the face of the rock, and at length found the entrance
of the subterranean. It was so narrow that even in the daytime it must
have been invisible from below. A low iron door a few yards within the
fissure was the first obstacle. To beat it down might alarm the garrison.
The passage only allowed us to advance one by one. I led the way, hatchet
in hand. A few blows broke the stones round the lock; the door gave way,
and we all crept in. In this manner we wound along for a distance which I
began to think endless. The passage was singularly toilsome. We descended
steep paths, in which it was with the utmost difficulty that we could
keep our feet; we heard the rush of waters through the darkness; blasts
of bitter wind swept against us; the thick and heavy air that closed
round us after them almost impeded our breathing; and from time to time
sulfurous vapors gave the fearful impression that we had lost our way and
were actually in the bowels of a burning mine.
[Sidenote: A Dazzling Sight]
My hunters still held on, but the mere fatigue of struggling through
this poisoned atmosphere was fast exhausting their courage. I cheered
them with what hopes I could, but never was my imagination more barren.
I heard, at every step I took, fewer feet following me. The pestilential
air was beginning to act even upon myself; but the great stake was
playing above, and onward I must go. I dared not speak louder than
a whisper; soon no whisper responded to mine. I tottered on, until
overpowered by the feeling that our sacrifice was in vain, a sensation
like that of a sickly propensity to sleep bound up my faculties; whether
I slept or fainted, I for a time lost all recollection.
A roar, like thunder overhead, roused me. A sight, the most superb, burst
on my dazzled eyes; a roof of seeming gold, arched so high that even
its splendor was partially dimmed; walls of apparent diamond, pillared
with a thousand columns of every precious gem; whole shafts of emerald;
pavilions of jasper; a floor, as far as the glance could pierce, studded
with amethyst and ruby; apparent treasures, to which the accumulated
spoils of the Greek or the Persian were nothing; the finest devices of
the most exquisite art, mingled with the most colossal forms which wealth
could wear; opulence in its massive and negligent grandeur; opulence in
its delicate and almost spiritualized beauty, were before me. A slender
flame burning at the foot of an idol lighted up this stupendous temple.
I was alone, but the orifice by which I had entered was visible;
the light shot far down into it, and I soon brought forward the
greater number of my troop. All were equally wrapt in wonder, and the
superstitious feelings, which the presence of the Roman and Syrian
idolaters had partially generated even in the Jewish mind, began to
startle those brave men.
“We had, perhaps, come into forbidden ground; the gods of the earth,
whether gods or demons, were powerful, and we stood in the violated
center of the mountain.”
[Sidenote: Entrapped]
For the first time, I found the failure of my influence. A few adhered to
me, but the majority calmly declared that, however fearless of man, they
dared go no farther. I threw myself on the ground before the entrance
of the cavern, and desired them to consummate their crime by trampling
on their leader. But they were determined to retire. I taunted them, I
adjured them, I poured out the most vehement reproaches. They stepped
over me as I lay at the mouth of the fissure, and at length one and all
left me to cry out in my dazzling solitude against the treachery of human
faith and the emptiness of human wishes.
The roar again rolled above; I heard distant shouts and trumpets. In
the sudden and desperate consciousness that all was now to be gained or
lost, I rushed after the fugitives, to force them back. I plunged into
the darkness, and grasped the first figure that I could overtake. My
hand fell on the iron cuirass of a Roman! my blood ran chill. “Were we
betrayed—decoyed into the bowels of the mountain to be massacred?”
The figure started from me. I gave a blind blow of the ax, and heard it
crush through his helmet. The man fell at my feet. I wildly demanded,
“How he came there, and how we might make our way into the light?”
“You are undone,” said he faintly. “Your spy was seized by the
procurator. Your attack was known, and the door of the subterranean left
unguarded to entrap you. This passage was the entrance to a former mine,
and in the mine is your grave.”
The voice sank; he groaned, and was no more.
His words were soon confirmed by the hurried return of my men. They
had found the passage obstructed by a portcullis, dropped since their
entrance. Torches were seen through the fissures above, and the sound of
arms rattled round us. The ambush was complete.
“Now,” said I, “we have but one thing for it—the sword, first for our
enemy, last for ourselves. If we must die, let us not die by Roman
halters.”
[Sidenote: Salathiel’s Dungeon]
One and all, we rushed back into the mine. But we had now no leisure to
look upon the beauty of those spars and crystals which under the light
of the altar glittered and blushed with such gem-like radiance. From
that altar now rose a pyramid of fire; piles of faggots, continually
poured from a grating above, fed the blaze to intolerable fierceness.
Smoke filled the mine. To escape was beyond hope. The single orifice had
been already tried. Around us was a solid wall as old as the world. It
was already heating with the blaze; our feet shrank from the floor. The
flame, shooting in a thousand spires, coiled and sprang against the roof,
the walls, and the ground. To remain where we were, was to be burned to
cinders. The catastrophe was inevitable.
In the madness of pain, I made a furious bound into the column of fire.
All followed, for death was certain, and the sooner it came the better.
With unspeakable feelings I saw, at the back of the mound of stone on
which the faggots burned, an opening, hitherto concealed by the huge
figure of the idol. We crowded into it; here we were at least out of
reach of the flame. But what was our chance save that of a more lingering
death? We hurried in; another portcullis stood across the passage! What
was to be our fate but famine? We must perish in a lingering misery—of
all miseries the most appalling, and with the bitter aggravation of
perishing unknown, worthless, useless, stigmatized for slaves or
dastards! What man of Israel would ever hear of our deaths? What
chronicler of Rome would deign to vindicate our absence from the combat?
We were within hearing of that combat. The assault thundered more wildly
than ever over our heads; the alternate shout of Jew and Roman descended
to us. But where were we?—caged, dungeoned, doomed! If the earth had laid
her treasures at my feet that night, I would have given them for one
hour of freedom. Oh, for one struggle in daylight, to redeem my name and
avenge my country!
The roar of battle suddenly sank. Was all lost? Constantius slain? for
with life he would not yield. Was the whole hope of Judea crushed at a
blow? I cried aloud to my followers to force the portcullis. They dragged
and tore at the bars. But it was of a solid strength that not ten times
ours could master.
[Sidenote: The Rescue]
In the midst of our hopeless labors, the sound of heavy blows above
caught my ear, and fragments of rock fell in; the blows were continued.
Was this but a new expedient to crush or suffocate us? A crevice at
length showed the light of a torch overhead. I grasped the ax to strike
a last blow at the gate and die. I heard a voice pronounce my name!
Another blow opened the roof. A face bent down, and a loud laugh
proclaimed my crazy friend.
“Ha!” said he, “are you there at last? You have had a hard night’s work
of it. But come up; I have an incomparable joke to tell you about the
tribune and the procurator. Come up, my prince, and see the world.”
I had no time to rebuke his jocularity. I climbed up the rugged side
of the passage, and found myself still in a dungeon. To my look of
disappointment, he gave no other answer than a laugh, and unscrewing a
bar from the loophole above his head—
“It is my custom,” said he, “to make myself at my ease, wherever I go;
and as prisons fall to a man’s lot, like other things, I like to be able
to leave my mansion whenever I am tired of it.”
“Forward, then,” said I impatiently.
“Backward,” said the beggar, with the most unruffled coolness. “That
loophole is for me alone. I may be under the governor’s care again,
and I have shown it to you now merely as a curiosity. Drink, my brave
fellows,” said he, turning to the troop below, and giving them a skin
of wine; “soldiers must have their comforts, my gallant prince, as well
as beggars. If that villain procurator had not come by express (for no
man alive is quicker to catch an idea where he is likely to gain), you
should have been by this time sleeping in the governor’s bed, and the
governor probably supping with me. But all is fortune, good and bad, in
this world. The procurator, putting your escape and mine together, began
to think that his presence might be useful here, and the laziest rogue in
Palestine came with a speed that might have done honor to the quickest,
who stands before you in my person. I had gone on swimmingly with the
governor, on the strength of your love-letter, angry as it made him. But
the first sight of Florus put an end to my chance of opening the gates
for your triumphal entry. I was tied, neck and heels, and flung here, to
be gibbeted to-morrow morning. But that morning has not come yet.”
[Sidenote: The Assault]
He paced the cell uneasily. At length he sprang up, and looking from the
loophole, whispered, “Now!” A low creaking sound of machinery followed.
“Down into the cavern,” said he; “that accursed cohort has moved at last.
Away, my prince, and seek your fortune.”
I exhibited some reluctance to be engulfed again. But his countenance
assumed a sudden sternness. His only word was, “Down!”
As we were parting he solemnly pronounced: “May whatever power befriends
the righteous cause, and blasts the man of infamy and blood, send the
lightnings before you!”
Tears stood in his uplifted eyes. His worn countenance flushed as he
spoke the words. He seized a spear from a corner, and plunged after me
into the cavern.
The portcullis had been drawn up by Sabat; the passage opened at the foot
of the rampart. I could have rushed upon an army. But the hand of our
guide was on my shoulder.
“Your attack,” said he, “can be nothing, unless it be a surprise. Move
along unseen, if possible, till you come to the flank of the first tower.
There wait for my signal!” He was gone.
The roar of the assault swelled again, tho it was certainly receding. I
climbed the rampart alone. The torches on a distant battlement showed me
the Romans in force, and evidently making way. I could restrain myself no
longer. I gave the word—concealed by the shadow of the colossal wall—fell
upon the guard at the gate and cast it open! Constantius was the first
who saw me. He sprang forward, with a cry of exultation. The Romans on
the battlement feeling themselves cut off, were struck with panic, and
threw down their arms; but we had more important objects, and rushed
back to the citadel. Our work was not yet done; we were entangled in the
streets and lost time. The garrison was strong, and fought like men who
had no resource but in the sword.
[Illustration: “I gave the word—fell upon the guard at the gate, and cast
it open!”
[_see page 240._
Copyright, 1901, by Funk & Wagnalls Company, N. Y. and London.]
[Sidenote: Master of Masada]
We were pressed on all sides; an arrow lodged in my shoulder, and I could
wield the ax no more. In a few discharges, every man round me was bruised
or bleeding. I saw a Roman column hurrying along the rampart, whose
charge must finish the battle at once. But a blaze sprang up in the rear
of the enemy. Another and another followed. The governor’s palace was
on fire! The sight broke the Roman courage. Cries of “treachery” rang
through the ranks; they turned, flung away spear and shield—and I was
master of the strongest fortress in Palestine!