WAYFARERS
The western or southwestern gate of Damascus, that which looked toward
Israel and Egypt, had seen much coming and going of late. Varied
features and varied dispositions, people large and small, old and
young, bond and free, soldiers and civilians, on all manner of business
and pleasure they had passed, but never a couple more likely to attract
attention than the maiden and the boy who now approached. There was
something inexpressibly gentle and refined in her appearance which
contrasted oddly with her tattered garments and the leopard’s skin
drawn closely around her. The boy seemed more fitted for the wilderness
and the hardships they had evidently endured.
They were talking low and eagerly. “Thinkest thou, Rachel,” with a
touch of scorn, “that the Lord would send an angel in these times and
to us as he did to our fathers?”
She was sweetly reasonable. “Then how dost thou explain the fire with
no one near it the night when I thought I should die with the cold;
and this leopard’s skin we found next morning near the embers; and the
food--so much we have had enough and to spare; and the water-skin
filled with life-giving water for which we thirsted; and even these
strips of cloth to bind up our bleeding feet, cut on the sharp
rocks, bruised on the rough road? Nay, no matter what thou sayest,
Nathan, I have learned that Jehovah is merciful and gracious, full of
loving-kindness and tender mercies with which we have been surrounded.
Indeed, now that our perils are nearly over, I feel that all I have
gone through hath been but a spiritual experience. The Lord hath been
my strength, just as Miriam told me, and he is about to become my song.
Soon we shall reach the home of my kinsman, Ezekiel, where we shall not
only be safe and well cared for ourselves, but he will know what to do
concerning Miriam.”
“Look out, Rachel!” Nathan was glaring after a man with a heavy load
who had stumbled against them. “A good thing it is that the road is
straight and smooth. Keep thou close to me and watch thy steps.”
They had need to. As they proceeded the travel increased. They were
jostled; they jumped quickly out of the way of those who rode, only to
be pushed in another direction by those who walked; they met frowns
and ill-natured remarks and, what was harder to bear, smiles and
unmistakable jests. They had about concluded that Might rather than
Right was the rule of the highway when their opinion was confirmed. As
they came within the shadow of the city gates, but before they could
enter, they were espied by a gay party, looking for sport.
By the very simple device of joining hands, a circle was formed around
the two unfortunates and they were thus entirely at the will of their
tormentors. Nathan’s rage and Rachel’s entreaties merely added to the
amusement. The circle advanced and retreated, dragging its victims
along with it. They were mimicked with exaggerated pantomime. They were
forced into ridiculous and undignified postures. One, bolder or more
facetious than the rest, indulged in hair-pulling and pinching.
The roars of laughter attracted the attention of passers-by, who joined
the gathering, some to jeer and encourage, others to inquire and
protest. The crowd grew, the noise increased, the road was obstructed
and, trying to force a passage, many came to angry arguments and
finally to blows. The excitement was quelled only by the arrival of
soldiers, who finally hurried to the scene and in no gentle manner
dispersed the mob. To Rachel, bruised and humiliated, this was a
welcome relief. She did not notice the curious gaze of the soldiers,
the changing expression on the face of one, nor that another looked at
her intently for a moment, then, urging his horse to full speed, set
off in the direction of the House of Naaman.
Nathan, with wits sharpened by terror, lost none of these things nor
a host of others, and hastily came to the conclusion that their
deliverance was cause only for additional fear. He clutched Rachel’s
hand: “We must go back as we came. Hearest thou? We cannot go into the
city to-day. Dost thou not see that these are the soldiers from whom we
escaped? They will know me and guess whom thou art, even without thy
veil.”
He was violently pulling backward; the crowd, so long detained and
anxious to make up for lost time, surging forward. As well try to stem
the Jordan with bare hands! They were swept apart, and before Rachel
realized it, she stood within the portals of Damascus, dismayed and
alone. With Miriam in captivity and Nathan lost, it was more than ever
imperative that she find Ezekiel and that without delay, but how? She
stood at one side of the busy footway, anxiously waiting to see if
Nathan would join her. When he did not and she found herself again
attracting attention, she singled out one in the hurrying throng and
appealed to him timidly: “Canst thou direct me to the House of Ezekiel
in the street of the merchants of Israel?”
The man looked at her, shook his head, and answered in a language she
did not understand. Others she tried, but with no better success. They
were not unkind, merely uncomprehending--and indifferent. Peradventure
if she walked along slowly, constantly seeking, constantly asking,
she might--she must--somewhere discover one of her own people, or
at least one whose speech was the same as her own. Already the sun
was casting long shadows and with a sinking heart Rachel proceeded on
her way, never seeing a soldier who followed her cautiously and at a
safe distance. He also watched the sun. At last he approached near
enough to hear her question, put now not so much with timidity as with
desperation. He addressed her in her own tongue: “I know the man thou
seekest. Thou hast but to come with me.”
Although his pronunciation was distinctly bad, she turned with pleasure
at the words, but at sight of the speaker she shrank back, shivering.
“Thoughtest thou to escape?” He was regarding her with a kind of cruel
exultation. “I have found thee again as I swore I would, and now--”
His hand rested compellingly upon her shoulder. The girl pleaded
tremulously: “Is it not enough that thou shouldst have taken me captive
in Israel? Yet did the God of my fathers preserve me then and later on
the road hither. I shall believe that here in Damascus I shall fare no
worse. Thy name, I know, is Lemuel, and there must be some law, some
protection for the innocent--”
Despite the bravery of the words her voice faltered. She was weary and
heartsick. Had she endured so much only to fall into danger at every
step? Her captor had drawn her within an alley-way and in the fast
gathering dusk the hurrying pedestrians neither saw nor heard aught
amiss. He spoke in a tone of easy confidence, secure in possession, but
Rachel heeded not. She was planning escape, yet weighed down by a sense
of her own helplessness. With a grip on her arm which made her wince
with pain, she felt herself hurried along to an unknown destination.
Emerging upon a less frequented thoroughfare, they unexpectedly
encountered two men on horseback, riding slowly and straining their
eyes into the night as if in search of something or somebody. The man
at Rachel’s side glanced carelessly; again more intently and with
a muttered exclamation partially relaxed his hold. That instant’s
indecision lost him his prey. With a strength at which she wondered
Rachel tore herself out of his grasp and fled, whither she knew not.
A few moments had sufficed to change her into a fugitive, afraid of
people, afraid of the torches which the few travelers still abroad were
compelled to carry. She sought only some dark corner in which to stand
panting and then, afraid lest even its kindly shelter be sinister, to
hurry to another.
It was in the intense darkness and stillness which precedes the dawn
that the girl, utterly exhausted, crouched in the shadow thrown by
a large dwelling and fell into a deep sleep. When the world turned
gray two men on horseback extinguished their torches and approached
the entrance to this abode. The face of one was ashy with fatigue
and disappointment. Observing the huddled figure he bent over it and
uttered a joyful exclamation, beckoning for the other.
“Our search is ended. While we roamed abroad by night, she whom we
sought found her way alone to protection. Quickly, bring food and water
and borrow a cloak from one of the maid servants, while I remain here
to guard the maiden.”
The voices awakened the sleeper. Startled and confused, Rachel
found herself gazing into the face of the very young captain who
had commanded the little company of soldiers under whose escort she
had been brought from Israel. She recalled to mind the respect with
which he had seen to it she was treated; his courtesy the day he
had discovered her hiding place, yet fear made her suspicious. She
would have fled once more, but before she could rise she noticed the
compassion in his look, the deference in his manner. His reassuring
words were spoken in her own tongue and as though it were native to him.
The incident at the gate, he said, and Rachel recalled her experience
with a shudder, had attracted the attention of his servant, who had
brought him word. Together they had sought her through the streets of
the city throughout the night, hoping to aid her, to give her a better
impression of Damascus than she had evidently formed. As they had
returned, almost persuaded that she must have found friends with whom
she was sheltered, they had discovered her asleep, at the portal of the
House of Naaman, of whom she had doubtless heard and who was as good as
he was great. The servant had now gone for some refreshment. When she
had partaken and her strength was somewhat restored, she would permit
him, he hoped, to assist her to make plans for the future.
All at once the nerve-tension relaxed and Rachel found herself
strangely weak and trembling. She answered with puzzled relief: “Thou
dost not look altogether like my people, but thou speakest as one.
Canst thou direct me to the House of Ezekiel, in the street of the
merchants of Israel? He is my kinsman.”
The anxious expression left the young man’s face. “Yea,” he said, “as
soon as thou hast eaten and drunken--and here cometh my servant-thou
wilt find that I am the way. Behold, I go before thee. Follow thou me.”
An hour later Rachel, guided by the soldier, arrived at the street and
the dwelling she had so greatly desired to find, but disappointment
awaited her. “Ezekiel? Yea, he _was_ here,” she was told, “but a month
ago he died and only yesterday his family started back to Israel.”
* * * * *
Rachel was not Isaac’s only problem. There was Miriam. That she was
related to the shepherd who had nursed him with tender care through
a long illness meant, to the young man, that he should see to her
welfare; that the gift he had brought his master’s wife from the
enemy’s country should be unappreciated, that the child was unwanted
and unwelcome, stirred him to profound indignation; and that she
grieved for the home and loved ones from which he had ruthlessly taken
her roused his deepest pity.
In compensation he gave her the best of himself--his leisure moments,
his most unselfish thought. All at once he became critical of his own
motives and those of others. Miriam had such an uncomfortable way of
looking him straight in the eye and innocently inquiring, “Thinkest
thou Jehovah would be pleased?” He had never thought before nor cared.
“Jehovah” was a name his mother reverenced and to which his sister was
not indifferent, but it had meant nothing in particular to him. Now,
however, with the obligation of answering the frank questions of this
small maiden, who seemed to believe him the embodiment of wisdom, he
began to observe and compare conduct, to ask himself what was worth
while and why. As the weeks and months went by, such considerations
could not fail to react upon his own ideals nor remain unnoticed by
others.
In his wife’s apartments lingered Naaman, soldier-statesman of Syria.
“What thinkest thou, Adah, of the little maid who is of the Land of
Israel?”
His wife toyed with a silken tassel. “I know not indeed, having seen
her but a time or two and that from a distance.”
“Then thou dost not care for the present Isaac brought thee, with such
elation, from afar?” Something there was in the cool displeasure of the
tone which caused the lady suddenly to remember that Isaac’s parents
had served her husband’s family; that Isaac’s mother had been Naaman’s
nurse; and that Isaac himself had been born in that very house.
She hastened to her own defense. “The maid of whom thou speakest hath
been so woe-begone I felt I owed it to myself not to be troubled by her
sadness. Milcah hath borne tidings of her and I was not attracted.”
His reply was dictated by long observation and much worldly knowledge.
“Milcah taketh precautions lest she be supplanted later. Fear hath
eyes of its own and its vision is oft distorted. Thou wilt be wise,
I think, to judge of the little maid for thyself. It hath been my
experience that where there is a drop of Israelitish blood, there is
trustworthiness. Oft have I wondered if their religion had aught to
do with it. Look thou at Isaac. Because he understandeth the tongue
of Israel, I sent him with Lemuel, kinsman of thy friend, to spy out
the land to the south of us. Of the two, Isaac brought back the more
detailed and reliable information.”
Adah was glad to turn the conversation into this new channel. “Was it
for this thou didst reward him with the captaincy of a small band? My
friends were somewhat displeased, hoping no doubt for such preferment
for Lemuel.”
The man frowned. “Should I not reward justly? Isaac is young, thou
sayest? Ah, but age is not a matter of birthdays. He joyeth in
responsibility.” The speaker smiled. “Hast thou not observed his care
over the little maid?”
Later and alone, Adah, wife of Naaman, sat wrapped in reflection.
It were undoubtedly right and politic to please one’s husband. His
judgment concerning the little maid should be respected. He was
impulsive but astute. Of course, when properly trained, even a tiny
maid would be useful, but oh, the tediousness, the annoyance of the
training! She would be awkward and heedless. Nay, for the present at
least it would be best to wait.