WARS AND RUMOURS OF WARS.
The Feast of Dedication having been kept and made an ordinance in Israel
for ever,(19) Judas’s next act was to fortify the restored Temple. It was
exposed, even more than the rest of the city, to a sudden attack from the
garrison of the fort, which might work irreparable mischief could it gain,
even for an hour, possession of the sacred building. Accordingly a high
wall, strengthened at intervals by towers, was now erected round it, and a
force was told off from the army to watch it. This done, the patriot
leader could attend without anxiety to other cares. At Beth-zur a fortress
was erected and strongly garrisoned to guard the Eastern frontier
especially against the attacks of the Idumeans, who, under their new name,
inherited all the old Edomite jealousy of Israel. After personally
superintending the erection of this stronghold, Judas marched against
other tribes on the east and south, who had been taking advantage of the
troublous times to plunder their Jewish neighbours. The Arabs of the
Negeb, or South Country, were defeated at a pass near the Dead Sea, which
bore the appropriate name of the Pass of the Scorpions; the Ammonites,
another tribe whose kinship with the chosen people seems to have
embittered their hereditary enmity, were defeated under their Greek
leader, Timotheus.
Meanwhile life at Jerusalem had been settling down into a peaceful order.
The younger of the two priests whom Eglah had befriended had found scope
for his energies by joining the army; Shemaiah, the elder, was again an
inmate in the house which had sheltered him, where Eglah, who had never
forgotten the charity with which he had spoken of her husband, tended him
with all the care of a daughter. The old man was never tired of hearing
the story of the two dismal years during which he had been in hiding.
“Ah, father!” she said to him one day, “you were not so ill off in your
poor prison after all. Had you had your liberty you would have seen altars
to the false gods in every street. And it was not safe to pass them
without showing some sign of reverence.”
“And how did you fare, my daughter?” asked the old man.
“I could avoid them, knowing where they were, by passing by on the other
side, and my good Glaucus—the Lord have mercy on him!—was always kind and
helpful. He would fetch the water regularly from the fountain, where there
was an altar to the Naiad, as they called the demon of the spring, which I
could not have avoided. The people used to laugh at him for doing a
woman’s work, but he did not heed them. O why was he taken away before he
could learn the truth? I think that he would have known it if he could
have lived a little longer.”
And the poor woman burst into a passion of tears. She was always haunted
with this fear of her husband’s fate, and reproached herself with not
having been earnest enough in speaking of the truth to her husband.
“Peace, my daughter,” said the old man, gently; “the mercies of the Lord
are without end, and His ways past finding out. Be sure that He will not
forget the kindness that was showed to a daughter of Abraham. But tell
me,” he went on, anxious to change the subject—“tell me how we came to
find the courts of the Temple desolate and overgrown as though no one had
entered them for months? Did you not say that there were sacrifices there,
and feasts to the demons whom the Greeks worship?”
“Yes, father; it was so for a time. But soon there were few or none to
make sacrifices, for the city was utterly impoverished. So the priests,
whom Philip the Phrygian and Apollonius—the curse of the Lord be upon
him!—brought in to serve at the altars, went elsewhere, for, of a truth,
they would have died of hunger had they stayed here. O father, it was a
mournful existence; of a truth we were fed with the bread of affliction
and the water of affliction.”
As they talked Ruth came in with a troubled face.
“O Eglah!” she cried, “I did hope that we should have peace and quiet, but
there are wars and rumours of wars on every side. This morning letters
came to the captain from our brethren in Gilead. That evil Timotheus—would
to God he had not escaped out of the hand of Judas!—has gathered together
a host of the Ammonites and slain some—a thousand, ’tis said, with their
wives and children, and shut up the rest in the fortress of Dametha. And
now my husband and my brother are in council with the captain, and I fear
me much that they will be sent to the wars, for indeed,” she added, with a
touch of a woman’s pride in those that are dear to her, “Judas esteems
them highly, and will always have them in places of trust. Nor would I
keep them back from helping the Lord’s people. But hark! I hear his step.”
As she spoke Seraiah came in from the council.
“How is it?” cried Ruth, with trembling voice, her fears again getting the
upper hand. “Do you go? and Azariah?”
“Yes, my dearest, I go, and next in command to the captain and his
brothers.”
Ruth flung her arms round her husband’s neck. “Oh! I am proud of you; but
yet if you could have stayed, for our little Daniel is so young——”
And she could say no more.
“Nay, wife, be of good cheer, and do not grudge us to the Lord’s service,
for indeed there is need of us all. Even while the letters from Gilead
were being read there came messengers from Galilee with their clothes
rent. From them we heard that the men of Ptolemaïs and of Tyre and Sidon
and all Galilee of the Gentiles were gathered together. Then it was
determined that Simon should go to Galilee with three thousand men, and
Judas and Jonathan to Gilead.”
“And what of Azariah?”
“He and Joseph, the son of Zachariah, are to be left in the city with the
remnant of the army as captains of the people. They are to have the
Governor’s house, and you, with our little Daniel, will live there while I
am away. This will be well for you, and for Miriam and Judith also, for
there will be many coming and going, and Miriam is a fair maiden, as she
should be, being kin to you.”
Ruth smiled through her tears at the lover-like compliment.
“Come now,” Seraiah went on, “and get ready what I shall want for my
journey, for we set out at sunset.”
The two women kissed each other, and the old priest blessed Seraiah. “The
Lord give thee strength in the day of battle, and deliver thee out of the
hand of the enemy, and bring thee back to the house of thy fathers.”
At sunset exactly—for Judas was one of the commanders who are exactly and
punctually obeyed—the two expeditions set forth.
Their departure was, of course, observed by the garrison of the fort, who
were encouraged by it to make some fierce sallies on the diminished forces
of the patriots. These were as fiercely repelled, and in a few days things
settled down again into the virtual truce which had existed for some time
between besiegers and besieged.
Eight days after the departure of the expeditions tidings of victory came
from the main army under Judas. The captain of the host had taken Bozrah,
in Edom. The place lay at least a hundred miles to the east; but the
patriots had covered the distance with unexpected rapidity, and, reaching
the place before there had been any notion of their approach, had taken it
almost without resistance. The messenger had left, he said, as soon as the
place was taken, but Judas had marched the same night to Dametha, which
was in urgent need of relief.
The next day came in tidings of further success. Dametha and its garrison,
with the crowd of helpless fugitives which had sought shelter within its
walls, was safe. The night march from Bozrah had been made just in time.
Had it been delayed till morning it might well have been too late. The
Ammonites had chosen that very day for a fierce assault upon the place.
Just as the day was dawning and the assailants were close under the walls
Judas had appeared. His approach had been observed by the besieged, who
had watched it from the citadel, but the assailants were taken by
surprise. Hemmed in between two attacking forces, the garrison who made a
sortie from the town and the army of the patriots in the rear, they had
been utterly routed. Timotheus had barely escaped with his life, and had
fled northward, followed by Judas in hot pursuit. A few days afterwards
came the news that the campaign was at an end—begun and finished within
the space of two weeks. This time the captain had found time to write a
despatch. It ran thus:—
“Judas, Captain of the Lord’s host, to Azariah, greeting. Know that the
Lord has delivered the enemy into our hands. Timotheus, having suffered
defeat at Dametha, fled northward to a temple where the heathen worship
the ‘Two-horned Ashtaroth,’ a strong place by nature and skilfully
fortified. I judged it better that I should not spill the blood of the
people of the Lord in assaulting it, and so, having cleared the walls of
defenders by help of my slingers, I surrounded it with great quantities of
faggots. To these I caused fire to be set, nor did my slingers suffer the
Ammonites to approach to put out the flames. In the end the whole was
consumed, and Timotheus perished in the fire. The Lord has rewarded him
according to his deeds. So much for what has been done: now for what
remains to do. This country is not as yet a safe dwelling-place, and will
not be till the heathen shall be more thoroughly subdued. It is my
purpose, therefore, to bring the people of this land to Jerusalem.
Provide, to the best of your ability, for their food and lodging.
Farewell!”
The exultation felt by the people at Jerusalem when the tidings of their
final victory reached them passes description. The times of David, they
were sure, were about to return. The promise was once again to be
fulfilled—“He shall reign from the flood [the Euphrates], unto the world’s
end.” In the Temple chant of the day the words went—“I will not be afraid
of ten thousands of the people that have set themselves against me round
about. Up, Lord, and help me, O my God, for Thou smitest all Thine enemies
upon the cheek-bone. Thou hast broken the teeth of the ungodly.”
But when tidings of still further victories, won by Simon in Galilee, came
in to swell the popular enthusiasm, there was a certain change of feeling,
something of the jealousy that almost inevitably springs up when great
deeds are done. Joseph and Azariah chafed at the life of inaction which
they were forced to live at Jerusalem, and what they thought in their
hearts the soldiers did not hesitate to express openly. “Let us also,” so
ran the common talk—“let us also get for ourselves a name, and go and
fight against the enemies of the Lord.”
On the day after the tidings of Simon’s victories came in the two captains
were waited upon by a deputation of soldiers, who came to urge that they
might be relieved from the inaction to which they were condemned, an
inaction made all the more hard to bear by the glories that were being won
elsewhere. Azariah and Joseph listened with attention, and, indeed, were
at no pains to hide their sympathy.
“The men are right,” said Joseph, when the deputation had withdrawn. “They
will lose all heart if we keep them idling here.”
“In my heart I am inclined to agree with you,” answered his colleague;
“but what did the captain say?—‘Watch the garrison of the heathen that
they do no hurt to the city and the Holy Place while we are away.’ But he
said nothing of going elsewhere, and I should be unwilling to disobey him,
for, beyond all doubt, the Lord is with him.”
“Nay, brother, you are too narrow in your thoughts of obeying. We obey him
best if we do the best that we can for the cause of the Lord. And though I
honour Judas greatly, yet he is but a captain in the Lord’s host, even as
we are. Why should we not do as he has done? And tell me, Azariah,” he
went on, “do you think that the vision which you saw when the angel of the
Lord brought you a sword with the Name written on it has been altogether
fulfilled? Shall this sword which he bade you use for the Lord always
abide in the scabbard? Is this the life to which you are called?”
“You speak truly,” said Azariah. “I can scarcely be faithful to my trust
if I suffer the sword of the Lord to rust. But tell me, what think you we
had best do?”
“Gorgias,” said Joseph, “is encamped at Jamnia, and does great mischief to
the land and the people; if we can drive him out we shall earn great
thanks both from the captain and from our brethren.”
The resolution of the commanders was heard with unmingled delight by their
men, and with almost equal pleasure by the inhabitants of the city. Some
of the more cautious disapproved, and Shemaiah even made his way to the
Governor’s house—no easy task for his scanty strength—and remonstrated
with Azariah. “My son,” said he, “your strength is to sit still. Make not
too much speed, and be not over-bold.” He was listened to with respect,
and even with some compunction on Azariah’s part. But it seemed too late
to retreat. To hold back now would infallibly give rise to the charge of
cowardice, and Azariah, brave as a lion against all outward danger, had
not the rare moral courage which would have enabled him to face such an
accusation.
At sunrise on the day after the resolution had been taken, the expedition
set out with confident expectation of victory, and watched from the walls
by an eager multitude. At sunset a miserable remnant came straggling back
into the city. They had fared, as their fathers had fared many centuries
before, when, with the like unauthorized daring, they had assaulted the
hill fortress of Ai, and had returned, bringing discouragement with them.
Gorgias had sallied out from his hill fortress, had charged the Jewish
force with full advantage of the ground, and had driven them in headlong
flight before them. Azariah and Joseph had done all that leaders could do
to turn the tide of battle, but their efforts had been in vain. Two
thousand men had fallen, the wounded being, perforce, left to the mercy or
cruelty of the enemy.
The city was filled with mourning for the dead; and, of course, there was
a rapid revulsion of feeling against the leaders whose rash action had
ended in such disaster. “Who are these men,” was the general cry, “who
have caused the people of the Lord to perish? They are not of the seed of
those by whose hand deliverance is given to Israel.”