Chapter XXII

VANISHED HOPES

The tremulous old man, weakened from his long and superhuman struggle

to enter the doomed city, held Laodice to his breast while she stroked

his rough cheeks and murmured things that he did not hear and which

she did not realize in the rush of her helplessness and dismay.

At the corner of Moriah and the Old Wall, the tumult was infernal. Out

of the suffocating sallow smoke from the tuns of burning tar heaved

over the fortification upon the engines and their managers, the stones

from the catapults soared into view and fell upon the sun-colored

marbles that paved the Court of the Gentiles. Clouded by the vapor,

targets for the immense missiles, the Jews heaving and writhing in

personal encounters appeared black and inhuman. Every combatant

shouted; the great stones screamed; the boiling pitch hissed and

roared, and the thunder of the conflict shook the Temple to its very

foundations.

Without, the Romans planted scaling ladders, mounted them and were

pitched backward into the moat regularly. Regularly, the ladders were

set up again after struggle, mounted without hesitation and thrown

down again, with an inevitability which furnished a grim travesty to

the struggle. The two remaining towers were set in position against

the base of Moriah and resumed execution. One after another the

engines of the Romans were hauled into position, and worked

unceasingly until covered with burning oil from the battlements above

and consumed. Others were hauled into place; fresh detachments of

Romans seized upon the scaling-ladders or mounted to the towers, and

the roar of the conflict never abated.

Meanwhile on the slopes of Zion the whole of Jerusalem, gaunt, dying

and demoniacal, was packed in the ruins of the palace of Herod.

Old Momus with triumph and tearful exultation was holding out to

Laodice a heavy roll of writings, dangling important seals, ancient

papers showing yellow beside the fresh parchment, and an old record

dark with long handling.

Here were the proofs of her identity!

Laodice shrank from him with a gasp that was almost a cry. Behold, the

faithful old servant had suffered she knew not what to bring such

evidence as would force her to do that which she believed she could

not do and survive!

Momus sought to put the papers in her hands, but she thrust them away

and he stood looking at her in amazement and sorrow.

Nathan, the Christian, stood close to her. From the opposite side,

Philadelphus rounded the outskirts of the mob, searching. He did not

see her. She flung herself between Momus and Nathan and cowered down

until Philadelphus had passed from sight. When she lifted her head,

Momus was gazing at her with the light of shocked comprehension

growing in his eyes. Nathan, the Christian, touched her.

"Who was that man?" he asked gravely.

She rose and laid her hands on the Christian's shoulders.

"My husband," she said.

Something had happened at the Temple. She saw the Jews at the wall

recoil from the dust of battle, rally, plunge in and disappear. From

out that presently shone now and again, then with increasing frequency

and finally in great numbers, the brass mail of Roman legionaries.

Titus' forces had scaled the wall.

From her position, she saw running toward them John of Gischala, with

his long garments whipping about him, wrapping his tall figure in live

cerements. He was disarmed and bleeding. She saw next Amaryllis, with

compassionate uplifted hands stop in his way; saw next the Gischalan

thrust her aside with a blow and the next instant disappear as if the

earth had swallowed him.

Nathan was speaking to her.

"How often, O my daughter, we recognize truth and deny it because it

does not give us our way! God put a sense of the right in us. We

transgress it oftener than we mistake it!"

The roar of the turning battle and the mob about her drowned his next

words, except,

"You can not be happy in iniquity; neither blessed; but you are sure

to be afraid. Right has its own terror, but there is at least courage

in being right, against your desires."

He was talking continuously, but only at times did the wind from the

uproar sweep his fervent words to her.

"Christ had His own conflict with Himself. What had become of us had

He listened to the tempter in the wilderness, or failed to accept the

cup in the Garden of Gethsemane! How much we have the happiness of

Christ in our hands! Alas! that His should be a sorrowful countenance

in Heaven!

"The love of a man for a woman was near to the Master's heart! How can

you feel that you must love and be loved in spite of Him! Pity

yourself all you may you can not then be pitied so much as He pities

you!

"Love as long and as wilfully as you will, and then it is only a

little space. The time of the supremacy of Christ cometh surely, and

that is all eternity! Which will you do--please yourself for an hour,

or be pleased by the will of God through all time? Love is in the

hands of the Lord; you can not consign it longer than the little span

of your life to the hands of the devil."

Momus, in whose mind had passed an immense surmise, was again at her

side.

"O daughter of a noble father," his dumb gaze said, "wilt thou put

away that virtue which was born in thee and let my labor come to

naught?"

But the preaching of Nathan and the reproach of Momus were feeble,

compared to the great tumult that went on in her soul. She had seen

John of Gischala cast Amaryllis aside. Even the Greek's sympathy was

hateful to him. Yet when Laodice had first entered the house of

Amaryllis, the woman had been obliged to dismiss John from her

presence for his own welfare and the welfare of the city. Why this

change?

Amaryllis was no less beautiful, no less brilliant, no less attractive

than she had once been; but the Gischalan had wearied of her.

Laodice recalled that she had not been surprised to see the man throw

Amaryllis aside. It seemed to be the logical outcome of love such as

theirs. How, then, was she to escape that which no other woman escaped

who loved without law? In the soul of that stranger who had called

himself Hesper, were lofty ideals, which had not been the least charm

which had attracted her to him. Was she, then, to dislodge these holy

convictions, to take her place in his heart as one falling short of

them, or were they still to exist as standards which he loved and

which she could not reach? In either event, how long would he

love--what was the length of her probation before she, too, would

encounter the inevitable weariness?

It occurred to her, then, how nearly the natural law of such love

paralleled the religious prohibition that the Christian had shown to

her. However harsh and unjust the sentence seemed, it was rational.

With her own eyes she had seen its predictions borne out. Already the

relief of the sorrowing righteous possessed her. She turned to the

Christian.

"Take me to my husband," she said. "Now! While I have strength."

Momus caught the old Christian by the arm and, signing eagerly that he

would lead, hurried away in advance of the two down into the ravine

and crossed to the house of Amaryllis.

There were no soldiers to stop them about the house. When no response

was made to her knock, Laodice opened the door and passed in.

Her old conductors followed her.

Amaryllis sat in her ivory chair; opposite her in the exedra was

Philadelphus. At sight of him, the last of the soft color went out of

Laodice's face. A curve of despair marked the corners of her mouth and

she seemed to grow old before those that looked at her.

Philadelphus and the Greek sprang to their feet, the instant the group

entered.

Laodice waited for no preliminary. Amaryllis' design was patent to

her; it was part of her sorrow that now Hesper would be free to the

devices of this deceitful woman. So she did not look at the Greek. She

addressed Philadelphus in a voice from which all hope and vivacity had

gone.

"I have brought proofs. Behold them!"

Nathan, the Christian, stood forth.

"I, Nathan of Jerusalem, met and talked with this Laodice, daughter of

Costobarus, in company with Aquila, the Ephesian, three men-servants

in all the panoply and state of a coming princess three leagues out of

Ascalon, her native city. I buried by the roadside her father, who

died of pestilence on their journey hither. I bear witness that she is

the daughter of Costobarus and thy wedded wife."

A great light sprang into the face of the Greek. Philadelphus,

nervous, albeit the news he heard filled him with pleasure, stood and

waited.

The Christian stepped back and Momus, bowing, approached and handed

the leather roll into the none too steady hands of the Ephesian. He

opened it and drew forth parchments.

Aloud he read a minute description of Laodice from the rabbi of the

synagogue in Ascalon; under the great seals of the Roman state, he

found and read the oath of the prefect, that such a maiden as the

rabbi had described had been married before him to Philadelphus

Maccabaeus fourteen years before. Then followed the depositions of

forty Jews and Gentiles who were nurses, tradesmen and other people

like to have daily contact with the young woman in her house, setting

entirely at naught any claim that Laodice was other than the wife who

had been supplanted by an adventuress. Philadelphus did not read them

all. Before he made an end he dropped the documents and flung wide his

arms. But Laodice with a countenance frozen with suffering held him

off for a moment.

"Go," she said to the old Christian, "unto Hesper and lead him into

the belief of the Lord Jesus Christ which is mine."

The old Christian approached the fountain in the center of the

andronitis and taking up water in his palm sprinkled a few drops on

her hair while she knelt.

"In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost, I baptize

thee, Laodice. Amen!"

While she knelt, he said:

"I shall search for him also. Christ have mercy on thee now and for

ever. Farewell."

He was gone.

The City of Delight: A Love Drama of the Siege and Fall of Jerusalem · 第 22 / 24 章