THE REVOLT OF THE ISRAELITES
While Azemilcus was dealing with his enemies in his own way, the
wretched chancellor, shaking in every limb, conducted the Macedonians
back through the secret passage by which he had brought them to the
presence of the king. Descending the winding stairs, they reached the
street level, where the old man opened a hidden door that led into a
narrow subterranean gallery. They followed this for what seemed to
them a long distance in a stagnant atmosphere, heavy with dampness. It
brought them at last to a slab of stone, from which hung a ring of iron.
Chares was forced to exert all his strength to turn this stone upon its
pivot. They emerged from the passage into a small room with walls of
rough masonry and a door that was closed by a black curtain. At the
request of the chancellor, the lamp was extinguished.
"Where are we?" Leonidas demanded.
"In the Temple of Baal," the old man whispered. "This room is little
used by the priests. They live on the other side."
The Spartan raised the curtain and looked into the gloomy interior of
the temple. It was deserted and silent.
"What shall we do with this man?" he asked, turning to his companions,
and indicating the chancellor.
"We have no further use for him," Chares replied, placing his hand
suggestively upon his sword-hilt.
"Spare me!" the chancellor cried, falling upon his knees. "I will tell
where the rubies are, and a great store of jewels besides. They are
under the image of Baal. Do not take my life!"
"He might betray us if we let him go," Leonidas said, paying no
attention to his supplications.
"I swear to you on the head of Baal that I will not," the old man cried
piteously.
"If he should betray us," Clearchus observed, "his own life would be
forfeit, because we should reveal the part he had in bringing us into
the city."
"Very well; you have most at stake," the Spartan said. "Let him go."
The chancellor did not wait for further permission. He disappeared
into the passage like an old gray rat escaped from a trap.
"I am half sorry we spared him after all," Leonidas said regretfully.
"Let us see where we are."
They passed through the curtained door and into the temple. Twilight
reigned beneath the lofty dome where the bats were still flitting.
This semi-darkness was artfully preserved so that the fire, which was
the essential feature of the worship of Baal-Moloch, might be visible
and effective during the sacrifices.
The Greeks found themselves in a vast hall of oblong shape. They were
standing upon a platform of stone, raised for the height of a man above
the main floor, to which a flight of broad and shallow steps descended.
A huge dark mass stood before them exactly under the dome, the sides of
which were pierced by narrow slits that admitted the light of day.
This mass was the misshapen idol of Baal. The God was represented by a
hollow statue of iron and bronze, sitting upon a throne. Its long arms
terminated in hands that rested with palms upturned beside its knees.
Its enormous head was inclined slightly forward, and the expression
upon its face was so cruel and malignant that Clearchus felt his blood
chilled as he gazed upon it and thought of the hecatombs of innocent
victims whose lives had been sacrificed to its ferocity.
There were larger and more splendid images of Baal in other
Ph[oe]nician cities, but none that was so venerated. It had been
brought from the Temple of Baal-Moloch in the Old City on the mainland,
where for centuries it had been the guardian of the place, receiving
its sacrifices each year. In the old days even the first-born of the
royal blood had been lifted in those blackened arms and rolled upon the
iron knees to be roasted alive. The terrible face leaned above with
distended nostrils, as though to inhale the odor of burning flesh, and
thousands of mothers had watched its dreadful smile through the smoke
with songs of praise on their lips and death in their hearts, while
their babies writhed in agony in the pitiless embrace. Baal would
accept no unwilling sacrifice, and the mother whose child was torn from
her breast to be given to the God, not only lost her infant but was
disgraced forever if she showed emotion while the rite was being
performed.
In spite of themselves, the Macedonians were oppressed by a kind of
superstitious dread as they looked at the grim visage that seemed to
sneer down upon them.
The great portals of the temple, at the other end of the hall, were
closed. On either side were rows of dark columns upholding the roof,
which was painted to represent the heavens. Dim shapes of monsters,
half beast and half human, appeared upon the walls.
The Greeks made a circuit of the temple but found no means of egress.
There were several anterooms similar to the one to which the
subterranean passage had led them. These contained vestments, the
implements used in the ceremonials, and a store of scented wood, dry as
tinder, that furnished fuel for the sacrifices. In one of the rooms
was a door which Joel believed connected with the building in which the
priests were housed. The walls around the platform were draped with
heavy hangings of black that formed a background for the image.
"Let us take counsel," Nathan said, casting a look of hatred at the
idol. "Jehovah will not permit this monster to triumph over Him."
They withdrew into their recess to consider a plan of action.
"One thing is certain," Leonidas said. "Alone we can never prevent the
sacrifice."
"My people will help us," Nathan said. "They will not give up their
first-born without fighting."
"How many are they?" Clearchus asked.
"There are ten thousand of them in the city," Joel replied; "but they
are not armed, excepting those who have been drafted to the defence of
the walls."
"I have more faith in Alexander than I have in your people," Chares
said bluntly. "He will be in the city before this day ends, unless the
Gods have misled old Aristander."
"But will he come in time?" Leonidas asked. "Let Nathan and Joel go to
the Israelites and rouse them to resist. Tell them that Alexander is
coming and that he will protect them. We three will stay here and
await the result."
To this the others gave their assent. It seemed a desperate chance,
but it was all they had. There was a small window in the antechamber,
high up in the wall. Nathan climbed up to it on the shoulders of the
Greeks and looked through.
"There is nothing on this side but the cypress garden," he said.
"Farewell; you may be sure that we shall return, though we come alone."
He slipped through the window and dropped upon the turf outside. Joel
followed him. The three Greeks, left alone in the temple, looked into
each other's faces and Clearchus grasped his companions by the hand.
"You have placed your lives in peril for me," he said with emotion.
"Zeus grant that they be not demanded of you!"
"Pshaw!" Chares exclaimed, "are not our lives always in peril? If we
must die, we shall die; and we are not permitted to choose where or
how. When the Ferryman calls, we must go. For my part, if thou
wouldst repay me, let me sleep, for my head is nodding."
Clearchus smiled, understanding his friend's aversion to any display of
feeling. He embraced the Theban, who calmly lay down upon the stone
floor; his eyes closed, and he began to snore gently.
Leonidas, whose tough frame defied fatigue, and Clearchus, whose mind
was in a torment of doubt and suspense, stationed themselves behind the
curtain that hid the door and waited, talking in whispers. They could
hear the patter of raindrops and by the rising wind outside they knew
that a storm was breaking over the city. Its breath entered through
the slits in the dome, causing the dark hangings to sway against the
wall. The gloomy temple seemed to be filled with mysterious
murmurings. Some drops fell upon the image of Baal and ran glistening
down the bronze head and broad, sleek shoulders.
Nathan and Joel made their way through the cypress thickets and scaled
the wall of the temple garden. They found themselves in a narrow
street which led them to a broader thoroughfare, where men were
hurrying to and fro in the rain. Soldiers of the garrison, weary and
hollow-eyed, were going to the defences. Citizens whose uneasy rest
had been cut short by the tension of dread were early abroad in search
of news.
"What of the enemy?" one of them asked of a soldier who was returning
from the walls.
"They are coming out to attack," the soldier replied. "Their ships
have already left the shore, and the stones will soon be falling about
your ears."
"How much longer?" the citizen asked, with a groan.
"Ask that of the Gods," the soldier replied indifferently; "but I think
the end will be soon, unless Moloch relents."
Joel and Nathan passed on, their appearance attracting no attention in
a city where there were so many of their race.
"Hasten!" Nathan said. "Alexander is coming!"
As they advanced toward the quarter occupied by the Israelites, the
streets became filled with people, nearly all of whom seemed to be
drawn in the same direction that they themselves were taking. They
fell in with a man who strode on with knitted brows and lips
compressed. By his appearance he was a Hebrew, and Nathan addressed
him in the Hebrew tongue.
"Whither goest thou?" he asked.
"To save the innocent from slaughter," the man replied fiercely. "Come
with me if ye are men!"
"We will come with thee," Nathan said.
"There are the priests!" Joel exclaimed.
Half a dozen of the ministers of Baal, surrounded by a guard of
soldiers, came down a cross street. They carried in their hands small
bundles of short cords with which to bind the limbs of their victims.
The crowd gave way before them, gazing at their black robes and stern,
fanatical faces with curiosity mingled with dread.
"May the curse of the Most High rest upon them!" the stranger cried,
shaking his fist.
He began to run in the direction of the open square used by the
Israelites as a market-place. Nathan and Joel raced after him. The
clamor of voices raised in bitter lamentation reached them. They found
the square choked with a surging mass of men and women who clasped
little children to their breasts, seeking to protect them. The rain
beat in their faces and the gusty wind tossed their garments. Some
called upon their God, raising their hands toward heaven. Others
shrieked the names of their offspring who had already been torn from
them. Every house in the quarter was filled with weeping and cries of
despair. The priests of Baal went hither and thither, seizing their
prey in the name of the law wherever they found it.
Nathan and Joel halted at the edge of the square. The priests were
searching through the crowd, many of them concealing a tiny burden
beneath their robes of office. Feeble wailings betrayed the nature of
these bundles. They were the children of the Israelites, bound hand
and foot for the sacrifice.
While the young men stood looking, one of the priests discovered a
woman who crouched upon the ground with her face hidden in her
dishevelled hair. He grasped her roughly by the shoulder and drew her
back, disclosing the fact that she had been shielding her baby beneath
her bosom. The child raised its dimpled hands and tried to touch its
mother's wet cheeks. The priest seized them and tore the infant from
her. She clutched the skirt of his robe and followed him on her knees
through the mire, begging piteously for the child.
"You have so many already," she said, "and he is all I have! Surely
Baal does not require my little one. He will be appeased. Give him
back to me!"
The priest turned and struck her upturned face with his clenched hand.
She uttered a cry of anguish and released his robe, falling back
senseless to the earth.
An inarticulate sound burst from the lips of the man who had guided
Nathan and Joel to the market-place.
"O Lord, my God!" he shouted, raising his hands to the leaden sky. "I
had two children to be the staff and prop of my old age. Wilt Thou
suffer them to be taken from me? We have remained faithful to Thee; is
this to be our reward?"
Nathan was about to spring upon the guard that surrounded the priests
before him when the tall figure of an old man strode into the square.
His gaunt frame was clad in sackcloth, and his long white hair and
beard were blown in the wind. He walked erect, without the aid of the
staff which he carried in his hand. There was an air of authority and
even of majesty in his bearing. The men and women nearest to him fell
upon their knees and stretched their hands toward him in supplication.
He did not glance at them and he seemed not to hear their prayers. His
stern eyes swept the market-place and he spoke in a resonant voice that
rose above the tumult and caused it to die away.
"Why do ye lament, men of Israel?" he cried. "Cease now your weeping
and rejoice. For Tyre is fallen! Her hour is come!"
"It is Pethuel, chief priest of the synagogue," Joel whispered to
Nathan, who was watching the old man with glowing eyes.
"Hearken unto me, O ye of little faith!" Pethuel continued, and the
silence spread until his words could be heard throughout the square.
"The worshipper of idols is cast down. The day of clouds and thick
darkness is at hand. Lo! they waxed a strong and a mighty people. The
cities of the world feared them, and their ships followed the trackless
wastes of the sea. There was none like to them in their greatness.
"Unto some they said, 'Go!' and unto others they said, 'Come!' Verily,
their strength was like that of the lion, and they rejoiced in their
vessels of gold and silver. It seemed to them that there would be no
ending.
"And lo! the end is upon them. They are cast down; their walls are
overthrown, and their city is become a place of desolation. Thus saith
the Lord God unto me, His servant, that I may tell it to my people and
bid them rejoice!
"He has delivered them out of the hands of their enemies as a bird from
the net of the fowler. I said unto the Lord, 'Behold, the city of
abominations hath laid her hand upon Thy servants! In the olden time,
did she spoil Israel and Juda and the pleasant valleys, wasting them
with fire and sword. Then did Thy vengeance fall upon her, until of
her strong walls not one stone remained upon another. But now she
presseth sore upon Thy people; wherefore help us, O Lord!'
"Hear ye, men of Israel! Out of the darkness came a Voice like the
rushing of a mighty wind and the sound of many waters, and it filled
mine ears, saying: 'I am the Lord God of Hosts. Inasmuch as ye have
been faithful unto Me and have bowed not before the work of man's
hands, therefore will I hearken unto you. She has sown the wind, and
she shall reap the whirlwind. Her fortresses and her strong places
shall be spoiled. The weak shall perish with the strong, and the
mighty shall not deliver himself. I will give her daughters to ruin
and her children shall be wanderers among the nations. This will I do
for My people, that they be not put to scorn. Say to them: "Take each
man his sword and let him slay; for who shall withstand the wrath of
the Most High?"'"
To Nathan it seemed that the veil that separates the seen from the
unseen had been rent away. The voice that rang in his ears was no
longer the voice of Pethuel, but that of his Maker. He felt himself
lifted up beyond the region of doubt, and a great gladness filled his
heart.
Pethuel paused before him and looked at him with a gaze that pierced
him through like fire. The old man raised his staff and touched him on
the shoulder. It seemed to Nathan an act of consecration.
"Lead thou them!" Pethuel cried in a loud voice. "It is the command of
the Lord, thy God."
A compelling Power, greater than himself, seized upon the young
Israelite. He no longer had any volition of his own. He became an
instrument.
"Follow me, men of Israel!" he shouted, drawing his sword. "Jehovah
gives the heathen into our hands!"
The hush was broken, and a great cry went up from the densely packed
market-place. With one impulse, the crowd fell upon the soldiers and
priests who still remained in the square, the greater part having
already retreated toward the Temple of Baal-Moloch. The Ph[oe]nicians,
greatly outnumbered, were able to make but a brief resistance. Nathan
sprang forward and cut down the nearest soldier. In the rush that
followed him, the guard was swept away, scattered, and destroyed
singly. A score of children were rescued. The priests were trampled
to the earth and torn limb from limb. The square resounded with savage
cries. The Israelites had been roused to frenzy. The word of God was
upon them.
"To the temple!" Nathan shouted. The cry ran through the mob which
surged into the narrow streets leading to the shrine of Baal-Moloch,
bearing down all before it. The frightened priests heard it coming and
sent messengers to the walls, demanding succor. Azemilcus ordered
soldiers to be detached to quell the disturbance, and the defence of
the city was still further weakened.
The fighting in the streets became desperate. The Israelites scattered
and, by circuitous routes, pressed toward the temple. They mounted to
the roofs, hurling all kinds of missiles from a great height upon the
heads of the guards. The rain fell in blinding sheets. It seemed to
the Tyrians that the entire Hebrew population of the city had suddenly
gone mad. Ties of association were forgotten, and men who had been
friends for years struggled for each other's lives.
The tumult spread in every direction. The soldiers were forced to fall
back and form a ring of defence around the temple. Even then, they had
much ado to hold the crowd at bay, for the Israelites charged against
them without ceasing, recklessly throwing away their lives upon the
hedge of steel.
Great stones dropped from the sky continually. Friend and foe were
crushed beneath them. When they struck the walls of the houses, they
left gaping fissures through which the interior could be seen. They
came from the engines upon the Macedonian ships that were renewing the
attack upon the city.