Jerusalem had been left in a state of awful suspense during the
interval between the arrival of Titus at Cæsarea and the march of the
Roman army. But that suspense soon terminated, when the news was
brought by some fugitives that the countless host were moving through
Samaria, and ere many days could elapse would be before the walls of
the capital.
They advanced slowly towards the city, and encamped in the valley of
Thorns, near a village called Gaboth-Saul, on the hill of Saul, about
three miles from Jerusalem. One evening, while yet the anxious
inhabitants watched from the walls and towers, in expectation of
seeing their invincible foes approaching, they perceived a single
horseman coming swiftly along the valley of Jehosaphat, bearing in
his hand a white flag in token of his pacific intentions. He crossed
the brook Kedron, and rode up to the water-gate, where he called to
the officer on guard in the Jewish language, and requested a moment's
parley with him. The officer complied, and the gate was cautiously
opened, when he saw a young man of noble and ingenuous aspect, who
courteously saluted him, and begged that he would take charge of a
small packet, which he put into his hand, and permit one of his men
to deliver it safely according to the superscription. He also
presented him with a gold coin of great value, with a request that it
might be given to the bearer of the packet, as an inducement to him
to be faithful and swift. Then he bowed gracefully to the officer,
and retired at full speed from the gate, for he probably knew that he
was in a situation of considerable danger, and that he might be
assailed by the shafts and spears of the fierce soldiers who thickly
covered the wall above him.
The officer retained the gold for himself, for avarice had spread
widely among the corrupted troops; and he gave the packet to one of
his guard, with an order to carry it as directed. The man thrust it
carelessly into his vest, and it was not until the following night
that it reached its destination. Naomi was retiring to rest, when
Deborah entered her chamber and presented to her the sealed parcel,
on which was written, in characters well known to her, "To Naomi, the
daughter of Zadok the priest;--with speed." The curiosity of the old
domestic kept her in the room while her young mistress tore open the
envelope, and hastily perused one of the two letters which it
contained. Deborah watched the changing colour of Naomi's cheek, and
the tear that started to her eye, but she did not interrogate her,
for she knew that the manuscript came from Marcellus; and she
retired, leaving the agitated girl to read the letter again and
again, and tremble equally for the safety of her betrothed, and that
of her parents and herself.
The letter of Marcellus contained repeated assurances of his
affection, and his anxiety to rescue his affianced bride from the
danger that was so rapidly coming on her countrymen. He detailed the
force and numbers of the Roman army, and declared the firm resolution
of Titus, to persist in the siege until Jerusalem should be in his
power. And then, with all the eloquence of love, he besought her to
obtain the permission of her parents to leave the wretched city, and
take refuge under his father's protection. He added that if she and
her faithful Deborah could escape into the valley of Jehosaphat, he
and Rufus would meet her and escort her to the camp, where Titus
himself had promised to provide her with a strong guard, and send her
in safety to the dwelling of an honourable friend of his own at
Cæsarea. Marcellus further expressed an ardent wish that Salome
could be persuaded to accompany her daughter; but he knew that no
consideration would induce her to leave her husband, and that Zadok
would die a hundred deaths rather than desert his post in the city at
a time of such peril. He minutely pointed out the spot where he
hoped she would meet him, in her father's garden by the brook Kedron,
at which place he said that he and his father would wait each night
for her appearance, with a litter and swift horses, to bear her and
her nurse away in safety; and he besought her to lose no time in
making up her mind to the step which he proposed, as the operations
of the Roman army would be prompt and decisive, and in a few days all
possibility of his rescuing her might be gone. Much more was added,
and many arguments used to induce the Jewish maid to leave the home
of her fathers, and escape the inevitable doom of her rebellious
countrymen: but it was all to no purpose. Naomi shed tears over the
expressions of Marcellus's devoted attachment, and she felt he had
but too much cause to fear that if she remained in Jerusalem she
might share in its destruction; and yet her purpose was unshaken.
Her mother was in declining health, and could she leave her? The
light of heaven was breaking upon her mother's soul through her
means, and could she abandon her? No; she resolved that she would
not even mention the proposal of Marcellus to her parents, lest
anxiety for her removal from the city should induce them to urge her
acceptance of it. She therefore concealed the letter, and opened the
other which accompanied it, and which she found to be from her poor
friend Claudia, who had sent it to her brother, in the hope that he
would find some means of conveying it to Naomi. She did not
anticipate that he would run so great a risk as to approach the walls
of Jerusalem himself in order to convey the letter, of she would
never have given him such a commission. But Marcellus had been too
eager to make known to Naomi his plans for her preservation, and to
obtain her immediate concurrence, for any thoughts of peril to deter
him from the enterprise; and unknown to his commanding officer, he
had ventured to the gate, and escaped unharmed.
The letter of Claudia was nearly to the following effect:--
"My beloved Naomi will believe with what satisfaction I avail myself
of an occasion to write to her: and she will I know be equally
pleased to receive tidings of those who love her dearly. A friend of
Amaziah's is about to return to Judea, and will take charge of my
letters, and convey them to the Roman camp, from whence doubtless
Marcellus will be able to forward this scroll to you. Oh that I
could myself be the bearer of the intelligence which it will contain!
Dear Naomi, my heart is buried at Jerusalem, and I feel myself a sad
exile while I dwell so far from all those scenes that are consecrated
to my memory. There have I passed all the happy days of my eventful
life. There was I blessed with the affection of my martyred
Theophilus; and there did I hear from him of all the things
pertaining to salvation. There too I enjoyed your society and
friendship, and could strive to imitate, however humbly, the piety
and virtue and courage that made me love the religion that you
professed. Can I avoid looking back with sorrow and regret to the
days that are gone, and wishing that I had been permitted to tarry
with you, and share your dangers? My life is now of little value,
for all that made life precious is taken away from me; and it would
have been a joy to me, if the Lord had suffered me to end my days
within the gates of Zion, where he who would have been the happiness
of my life was so cruelly torn from me and murdered: but it is wrong,
and very ungrateful in me, to speak thus. Bear with my sorrow,
dearest Naomi, while for the first time I am enabled to give
utterance to all I feel; and do not think that I repine against the
dispensations of my God and Father, though I am bowed down beneath
the weight of his chastening hand. No; I am enabled to bless that
very hand which has wounded me, and to bear testimony to the love and
kindness that have inflicted the blow; and I can even pray for mercy
and pardon on him who was the cause of all my sorrow. I see now that
I had made an idol of my Theophilus. Even the readiness with which I
received the faith of Jesus was greatly owing to the interest I felt
in all that he taught me, and the conviction that what he believed
must needs be true and right. My soul was devoted to him more than
to God, and now God has taken him away in mercy as well as justice,
and has shown me how I leaned on a broken reed, and neglected the
power of His own Almighty arm. I believe I can truly say, that my
affliction has been blessed to me; and that I am now, through the
unmerited grace of God, a more sincere Christian than when you and
Theophilus used to commend my docility and faith. Oh, may the same
grace still support me, and carry me forward to the end; that I may
enter into the presence of God, clothed in the robe of my Saviour's
righteousness, and be admitted to those realms of joy, where now my
beloved Theophilus has joined the company of saints and angels, who
sing around the throne. Pray for me, Naomi, that my faith may never
fail again, and that my light affliction, which is but for a moment,
may work for me a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory. I
will weary you no more with the detail of my feelings; but it has
been a relief to me to express to my earliest and dearest friend both
my weakness and my strength. In Judith's presence I always endeavour
to restrain my grief, and to cheer her who is more than a mother to
me. Both she and Amaziah are unremitting in their kindness; and I
must not say that my life is of no value, when I think of their
tenderness and affection for me. All the love they bore to their
dear son seems now to be bestowed on me; and if I can in any measure
console them for what they have lost, I will try to wish that my life
may be prolonged. I have other blessings and other privileges here,
for which I am grateful. I enjoy the society of many holy disciples
of Christ, and am permitted to share their worship and partake of
their sacraments; nay more, I have already frequently seen the most
blessed apostle John. I have looked on that countenance so full of
love and purity and zeal; I have listened to his words, while
admiring crowds stood round in breathless silence, to catch the now
feeble sound; and I have received his holy benediction, and felt his
venerable hands laid kindly on my head. How I have wished for you,
Naomi, to share the sacred delight I feel whenever his almost sacred
form is before me! I cannot describe him to you, except by saying,
that when I look on him I no longer wonder why he was the chosen, the
beloved disciple above all the rest who followed their Lord. It is
beautiful to see him leaning on his staff, his long white hair and
beard flowing down upon his breast, and his eyes sparkling with all
the animation of youth, while he pours forth a torrent of eloquence
that must pierce the heart of all who hear him. The numbers that are
added to the church here through his preaching is very great; and the
famous image of Diana is robbed of many of its worshippers. I blush
to remember that I was once among the ignorant multitude who believe
that this image came down from heaven, and is endued with divine
power. It stands in a temple, whose splendour is only surpassed by
your own glorious edifice at Jerusalem. Oh, that it was dedicated to
the worship of the same only true God!--and that both were likewise
consecrated to the service of his Son!
"This is a very beautiful city, and I was greatly struck with the
splendour of the buildings on our first arrival. We had a very
prosperous voyage from Joppa, and the weather was more favourable
than we could have expected at that season. The sun shone
brilliantly on the animated scene which was presented to us as we
approached the city; and the steady motion of the ship, as we sailed
up the river on which Ephesus is built, enabled me to stand on the
deck and admire the beauty of the scenery on either side. We
ascended the river for a short distance from the place where it falls
into the bay, and the banks were covered with villages and noble
houses, interspersed with trees of every description. The broad
stream was filled with ships and boats; and nothing struck us with
such feelings of surprise and delight as the shouts which we heard
from some of the boatmen. 'Hallelujah!' was the cry which these
Christian mariners used to call their companions to join in their
labours; and 'Hallelujah!' was answered by the ploughmen in the
adjoining fields, as the boat passed swiftly on. This glorious
invitation to sing the praises of Christ is generally uttered by his
disciples, in the course of their daily employments, as a signal to
their brethren; and we are thankful to be in a land where the
invitation is so frequently responded to in the same spirit that
dictates it, and not followed by insult and persecution as it would
be in Judea.
"Our faithful Hannah is well and happy. She is a great comfort to
us, and tries by her activity and zeal to make a return to your uncle
and aunt for all their kindness to her: she sends you her most
respectful greeting. Judith and Amaziah salute you and your father
and mother with sincere affection, and join with me in fervent
prayers for your preservation and happiness both here and hereafter.
Pray, dearest Naomi, remember and love your attached friend--CLAUDIA."
This letter gave Naomi both pain and pleasure. She regretted to find
how severely poor Claudia had been tried, and how much her spirit
yearned for the society of the chosen friend of her childhood, as a
consolation in her present afflictions; but she rejoiced also to
perceive how much of true resignation and submission was evinced in
the heartfelt expressions of piety that were mingled with the natural
complainings of a wounded spirit. Oh, how would she have rejoiced to
have had it in her power to minister comfort to her dear and
afflicted friend! But that task she must leave to the God of all
comfort; and she could only pray that in His own good time, when
sorrow had worked its perfect work, He would pour balm into the
wounded heart, and bind up the broken spirit.
Her next concern was to devise some method by which she could reply
to Marcellus's letter, and put an end to his anxious expectation of
meeting her by the waters of Kedron. The fear that he would nightly
repair to the spot, and thus be exposed to great personal danger,
determined her to lose no time in endeavouring to convey to him her
firm determination to share the fate of her parents, while peril
surrounded them on every side. Many were the plans which she
devised, but all seemed equally impracticable; and after some hours
of useless reflection, she retired to rest, with a resolution to
apply to Deborah for counsel and assistance.
In the morning she summoned the good old nurse, and told her all her
anxious wishes, and her reasons for concealing Marcellus's letter
from her father and Salome. Deborah applauded her disinterested
conduct and affectionate devotion to her parents, and entered warmly
into all her schemes for conveying a despatch to the Roman camp; but
none were suggested that promised any hope of success, until the
nurse remembered that while Mary of Bethezob dwelt in Zadok's house,
her favourite attendant, Reuben, had made many offers of service to
herself and all the family, and had boasted of having held
communication with a certain person in the Roman army who had been
his friend in former years, by means which were both safe and sure.
This deceitful man had endeavoured to ingratiate himself with
Deborah, as the best method of discovering any circumstances relative
to her young mistress which he could communicate to Javan. So well
had he acted the part of a sincere friend to the family, so artfully
had he feigned sorrow and indignation at the death of Theophilus, and
so judiciously had he mingled the praises of Naomi with all his
discourse, that the unsuspicious old woman put perfect confidence in
his professions, and now assured her young mistress that she might
safely confide her packet to him, with every hope of its speedily
reaching its destination.
Naomi knew nothing of Reuben, except that he was a confidential
servant of Mary's. She had often remarked him, and thought his
countenance singularly unprepossessing; but she was entirely ignorant
how much of the affliction and sorrow which had of late visited her
family had arisen from the treachery and cunning of this very man.
She believed that she must have mistaken his character, and desired
Deborah to see him as soon as possible, and ascertain whether he
still possessed the power of holding intercourse with his Roman
friend, and would undertake to convey her packet to Marcellus, for
which service he should receive a handsome reward.
Deborah soon performed her errand, and returned to Naomi with the
welcome intelligence that Reuben had promised to go himself to the
appointed spot by the brook, and meet Marcellus that very evening,
when he would deliver to him the letter. The despatch was soon
prepared and given to the artful Reuben by Deborah, with many charges
for its safe conveyance. She desired him to come the following
morning to claim his reward, and to give an account of his meeting
with Marcellus. The traitor swore to be faithful, and departed. But
whither did he bend his steps? To the dwelling of Simon the
Assassin, a name which he had justly earned from those he came to
protect and save.
The son of Gioras was engaged in consultation with Javan and several
others of his partisans, when he was informed that a man at the gate
desired to speak with him quickly and privately. An expression of
doubt and suspicion crossed his dark brow, and he hesitated for a
moment whether to comply with the stranger's request or not. He knew
that he was hated by many, and feared by all; and he had reason to
believe that there were many in Jerusalem who would sacrifice their
lives to rid their city of the scourge that their own folly had
brought upon them. Yet the man might have tidings for his ear alone,
and his crafty policy had often recourse to the employment of spies
and informers. He took up a dagger that lay on the table before him,
and placed it in his girdle, with a look that told how readily it
would find its way to the heart of any one who should attempt to
injure him, and left the hall.
Reuben was brought before the tyrant, who waited to receive him in a
small private apartment; and guards with naked swords stood ready in
the anteroom to do the bidding of their chief. Simon motioned to the
informer to remain at a distance, and sternly demanded his errand.
Reuben quailed beneath the fierce scowl that met his gaze, as he
lifted up his own usually downcast eyes, and showed a countenance as
dark and as artful, but not so bold as that of the assassin.
"My Lord," he said, "I come to do you service. Here is a letter that
will tell you how to rid Jerusalem of one at least of her bravest
enemies."
He laid the sealed packet on a marble slab near him, and retired to
the furthest corner of the room, for he had even less desire than
Simon to come into close contact with his companion. He had intended
to stipulate for a reward of his treachery before he gave up the
document: but there was something in the eye of the son of Gioras
that made him forget his avarice, and think only of escaping from his
presence as quickly as possible.
Simon took up the letter, and with his dagger divided the silken cord
that fastened it round, and to which the seals were attached. He
retained the weapon in his hand; and while he read the letter he
seemed also to keep a watch on the movements of Reuben, who eagerly
waited for the moment of his dismissal. The artless epistle of Naomi
proved to the chieftain that his informer had not deceived him, for
the expressions it contained could not have been the production of
cunning or design; but he did not choose to set the stranger free
until he had both arranged and executed the scheme which his
information had suggested, for he who had betrayed one trust could
not be depended on, even in his treachery. He called for his guards,
and commanded them to take charge of Reuben, and keep him in security
until he should give further orders concerning him in the evening.
He desired that he should be well treated, but not allowed to hold
communication with any person whatever until that period. The
trembling menial now repented of his treachery, and sincerely wished
that he had never engaged in the business which had brought him into
so perilous a situation; but his faltering entreaties were of no
avail: he was led away and carefully secured in a chamber by himself,
where he was left to his very disagreeable reflections for many hours.
Meanwhile Simon considered whether he should make known to Javan the
information he had received, and consult with him as to the best
means of seizing on the unsuspecting young Roman and his brave and
distinguished father. Javan had on some recent occasions shown a
less sanguinary spirit than he had given him credit for, and had even
pleaded for mercy, where fanaticism and prejudice were not excited
against the intended victims. But Simon could hardly doubt of his
willingness to assist in an enterprise that promised the capture of a
Roman officer, who had dared to propose to a Jewish maid that she
should forsake her home and her parents, and fly to the camp of her
country's foes. Naomi's letter did not enable Simon to discover that
the writer of it was the sister of his zealous adherent Javan, for no
name was subscribed to it; but it gave him cause to suspect, from
some pious expressions of hope and confidence which it contained,
that the damsel who thus held a correspondence with the enemy was a
Nazarene, and that he whom she addressed was also a member of that
detested religion. This circumstance made him decide on entrusting
Javan with the secret, and he sent to desire his immediate presence.
The letter was put into his hand as soon as he entered the room, with
a brief explanation of the manner in which it had been received; and
Javan recognised hie sister's peculiarly beautiful handwriting. His
colour came and went, and the compression of his lip, and strong
contraction of his brow bespoke the painful emotions which were
excited by the perusal. Simon watched his countenance, and wondered
at the powerful excitement depicted there.
"Ha! my friend," he said, "this effusion of a Jewish maiden's love
for a Gentile foe moves you to wrath. It is well; you will the more
readily give me your counsel and your assistance in punishing the
audacious Roman, and discovering which of the daughters of Zion has
been found so weak and criminal as to bestow her affections on an
infidel. It is evident that they have long been acquainted, and have
carried on their iniquitous attachment for a considerable time; but
as yet the girl has resisted the solicitations of the Roman to fly
with him from her parents. We must secure him, Javan. We must
secure him this very night, and force him by tortures to confess what
unhappy maiden he has thus beguiled from her duty as a child of
Israel. And mark these concluding passages, Javan--do they not
betoken the writer to be a believer in the crucified impostor, and
that the man she thus so sinfully loves is of the same obnoxious
creed?"
"Yes, Simon, I see and comprehend it all. And this maiden is my
sister--my beautiful and once holy sister Naomi, who was then the
object of my pride, and the hope and joy of our family. I knew that
her soul had been polluted with the vile doctrines of the
Nazarenes,--I knew also that the childish attachment that once
subsisted between her and the son of Rufus the centurion was not
effaced from her memory by his long absence from Jerusalem. But I
never dreamed of this shame. She met Marcellus lately when she went
to Joppa with my father. I knew it, but I was so much engaged with
public affairs that it passed from my thoughts again, and I never
inquired whether he had sought to gain her affections. Indeed the
very fact that she had embraced the Nazarene heresy made me feel
secure, for I knew that she would never bestow her hand or her heart
on any one who differed from her in religion. I did not suspect that
this Roman infidel would basely pretend to share her creed in order
to obtain her love. He shall, however, meet the just punishment of
his audacity and his hypocrisy. He has affected to be a Christian,
and he shall die the death of a Christian. Thus shall we escape all
possibility of the disgrace which he would bring upon us. My father
must be informed of this; and doubtless he will take decisive
measures to prevent all further correspondence between his daughter
and the Gentile youth, even if we should fail to secure him this
evening. But, Simon, no injury must be attempted against Naomi. She
is my sister, and though I love but few of my fellow-creatures, I do
love her. She must be spared, and given time to repent, and to save
her immortal soul."
"I care not for the foolish maiden," replied the fierce son of
Gioras, "so that we get possession of this bold young soldier and his
father. I have heard of Rufus, and I doubt not that his son is as
worthy of an enemy's death as the old centurion."
"He always was courageous even to foolhardiness," replied Javan; "but
he has no deep subtlety or profound cunning to devise and carry on a
plot. I marvel how he has deceived my sister, who has so much
quickness and penetration, and made her believe that he has abandoned
his heathen idols, and adopted the no less impious worship of the
Nazarenes. It is for this that he must die. As an enemy to
Jerusalem I scorn him, and the vaunted troop to which he belongs.
Let us go forth and organize a chosen band on whom we can depend for
our enterprise this evening. They will meet with a gallant
resistance unless they can fall on these Romans by surprise."
Javan and the chief captain left the house and repaired to the scene
of contest that was almost incessantly maintained beneath the temple
walls. There, amidst the noise and carnage that surrounded them,
they selected from among the followers of Simon a strong body of
resolute and powerful men, whom they commanded to be in readiness at
sunset, and to repair at that hour to the water-gate, where they
should receive further directions, and be led to the spot where their
best services would be required.
The intervening hours were passed as usual in fierce and murderous
conflict between the rival factions, in which nothing was gained by
either party, and much blood and strength were wasted that should
have been reserved for the defence of the city against the common
enemy.
Before the blazing sun had sunk behind the western hills the chosen
company were assembled at the appointed gate; and ere long they were
joined by their commander and Javan. Simon gave the order for the
heavy gate to be thrown open, and they all passed through and
descended to the thick and fertile gardens that still lay uninjured
along the lovely banks of Kedron. There the men were disposed among
the dark trees and shrubs in such positions as would enable them to
intercept the retreat of any persons who should enter the garden of
Zadok. The signal was arranged by which Javan should give them
notice to make the attack, and with the last rays of departing
daylight the wily son of Gioras returned to the city, leaving the
execution of the plot in the hands of his friend.
He passed along the dusky streets, now silent and deserted, for the
peaceable inhabitants feared to venture beyond their own doors after
sunset; and those of the combatants on either side who were not
engaged in keeping a watch on the motions of their opponents, had
retired to seek a short repose after the fatigues of the day. The
silence was only interrupted by the occasional shouts of those bands
of robbers who nightly issued forth to commit fresh acts of violence,
and strike fresh terror into the hearts of the wearied and miserable
inhabitants. Simon looked around him as he ascended the narrow
street that led from the water-gate towards the centre of the town,
and when he entered the spacious court in which his own dwelling was
situated, he paused to contemplate the desolate scene around him.
Not a human being was moving in that magnificent area which was wont
to be thronged with a gay and busy populace; but on the pavement lay
many a mangled and unburied corpse, slain by the swords and the
daggers of their own countrymen, and left a prey to the hungry and
ferocious dogs that prowled day and night through the city, and
contended fiercely for the unnatural meal. Scarcely a light
glimmered forth from the windows of the magnificent dwellings that
composed the square. Every gate and every door was closed and
strongly barred, to guard against the intrusion of robbers and
assassins; while the inhabitants sought, in the most retired of their
apartments, a temporary cessation of suffering and alarm.
"When," exclaimed Simon, as he contrasted the present and the past
conditions of the glorious city, "when shall Zion again resume her
throne, and sit as the queen of nations! Her crown is in the
dust--her children are in sadness and in shame--her enemies roar
against her as a young lion. But they shall not prevail. The lion
of the tribe of Judah shall yet appear in time to succour her, and
her foes shall be driven away as the chaff before the wind. Why, O
great Messiah! is thy coming so long delayed?"
The son of Gioras was interrupted in the loud expression of his wild
and visionary hopes by the sudden apparition of the mysterious
prophet. He emerged from the dark shadow of a neighbouring portico,
and attracted perhaps by the voice of Simon, he crossed the square
and approached him, chanting, in his usual sad, unearthly tone:
"Woe to the bloody and rebellious city;
And woe to those who dwell therein!
Woe to thee, Simon! Woe to the great assassin!
A voice against Jerusalem and against the temple;
A voice against the whole people!
Woe, woe, woe!"
Simon's feelings were excited by his own lofty expectations to which
he had just given utterance; and the boding note of the prophet
sounded discordantly on his ear. Many times had he heard his voice
before, and once he had cruelly commanded him to be scourged, in
order to silence his melancholy cry, though without the least effect;
but never had his burden of woe sunk into his own spirit, with a
feeling of awe and dread until night, and he resolved that it should
move him thus no more.
"Thy woes be to thyself, thou false prophet," he cried, "and thy
curses light on thine own head! There, I send thee to the prince of
darkness, whose messenger thou art; and tell him that Zion defies
him, and all the powers he can send against her. The Lord of Hosts
is with us."
As he uttered this daring and ill-founded boast, he cast a spear at
the son of Ananus, who stood calmly listening to his words of wrath.
The weapon flew with violence, and Simon expected to see his victim
fall on the ground transfixed. But it passed harmless by, as though
the prophet were gifted with a charmed life. Simon drew his sword,
and rushed on the wasted form before him; but with a speed that
mocked his utmost efforts at pursuit, the son of Ananus fled away,
and even in his flight continued to exclaim:
"Woe to the great assassin!
Woe, woe, woe!"
Breathless and exasperated, Simon returned and entered his house,
with vows of vengeance on the man who had thus denounced him and then
eluded his arm. He issued strict orders that very night that the
wild prophet should be diligently searched for the next day, and
brought in fetters to his presence.
"I will silence his ominous croaking," he continued, "nor suffer him
any longer to go about our city adding to the terrors of the people,
and shaking their faith in the coming deliverance that is so surely
revealed."