know--that she had fled for her life; had fallen among friends; had
not dared to return to Jerusalem before this, fearing some repetition
of the insults such as Apollonius had once offered her. But that now
the Governor was gone, she had come again to be under the care of her
natural and legal guardian, "and, God willing," she said, "that the
house of Elkiah may again be graced by the presence of woman and child."
Glaucon's manner evidenced much restraint. He was not at ease in
expressing even the kindliness and affection he felt, for he had felt
so little of these emotions that he had no words in readiness to convey
them. There was the difference between his brotherly welcome and that
given by the old servants that there is between the shaduff, toilsomely
lifting its bucket of water at a time, and a fountain pouring out its
welcome to the upcoming flowers. Very soon the sentimental part of the
interview was past, and Glaucon proceeded to the practical.
"If, my sister, you are to abide at home, since the King is extremely
jealous of the loyalty of the old Jewish families, it would be well to
adopt a name less clannish than your present one."
"Call me what you will, brother. I will know myself only by the name my
mother gave me. I can, however, quickly interpret any other word into
that."
Glaucon's mind was opaque to the fine sarcasm of his sister; he
proceeded:
"Berenice is a beautiful name among the Greeks. You know the story of
Queen Berenice? No? Then I will tell it to you as I have heard the
Princess Helena tell it. I think the Princess has hair like Berenice's,
soft and silky as glistening light. You must come to know the Princess."
"But the story of Berenice?" interjected Deborah, wearily.
"It is a fair story as she told it to me," replied he. "Berenice was
the wife of King Ptolemy of Egypt; he who was called Euergetes, which
means Benefactor. Berenice was the loveliest of women. Her eyes gleamed
with starlight, and her hair flowed about her shoulders like the
mingling rays of the sun and moon.
"Once, when the King was warring in Syrian lands, his queen made a vow
to the gods that, if they would return her lord safely to her arms, she
would cut off her hair, and consecrate it in a temple in Cyprus. The
gods were tempted by this gift, and gave Ptolemy wondrous victories and
a speedy return. Berenice fulfilled her vow. But such was the beauty
of her locks that they dazzled the eyes of the beholders who came into
the temple. Whereupon the gods hung Berenice's hair in the sky, and
there it is still. You may see it any night. It is gathered into seven
nodes which seem to be stars. All of our Greek astrologers know of the
constellation of Berenice's hair. The charming poet, Callimachus, made
a hymn in praise of this new beauty of the heavens. I will sing it to
you."
"No, no," said Deborah, "the story is fine enough as you have told
it. Do not sing it. But my black threads do not suggest the starry
brightness of Berenice's locks. The name would better fit some
fair-haired woman. But call me what you will, my brother. And how shall
we know the child? Caleb means 'God's dog.' What will that be in Greek?"
"The Greeks have that spirit in them that one would not be the dog of
even Diana, the goddess of the chase. Theodorus is a pretty name, and
means, 'gift of the gods.'"
"Let him be called, then, Theodorus," said Deborah, with an acquiescing
smile.
"But Berenice must dress more gayly than Deborah did," added her
brother. "This bodice looks like one that came out of Egypt with
Miriam, and for aught I know this linen was made by one of Pharaoh's
weavers, and was picked up on the shores of the Red Sea."
"Our mother wore these, and she was counted the most beautiful woman
in Jewry," replied Deborah. "Besides, I have scores of changes made
of stuffs such as are rarely seen in these days. As for jewels, caps
of coin, ear-rings, necklaces, anklets and armlets, we have enough to
deck out a score of maidens, and laces which the princesses of Egypt
have worn, and robes of the most expensive Tyrian dye. The daughter of
Elkiah need not fear to appear among the gentlewomen, come they from
Antioch, or even the new capital of Rome."
"True enough as far as value goes," replied Glaucon. "But these are not
in the fashion. When you see the Princess Helena you will envy her the
new shapes of dresses and jewelry. She is fairer than you. The sun has
tarnished your complexion, but she can teach you how to bleach it."
"I have no doubt," interjected Deborah.
"But," continued Glaucon, "when our Berenice is clad as well as the
Princess she need not be ashamed before even that marvellous woman."
"Thanks, my brother."
"I would that Dion could see you in the costume I shall have sent you
from Antioch."
"Does Dion live?" asked Deborah.
"Dion, I fear, is dead. A curse on those treacherous sons of
Mattathias. Sons of Belial! But," he rattled on, "it will be well to
make known to the people of the better sort in Jerusalem the return of
the mistress of the house of Glaucon. I will see to it that the wife
of Menelaos, the High Priest, and the wife of General Seron--who is to
command the new army of the King--and the Princess make their welcome
to you. Berenice, sister of Glaucon: why may she not some day be Queen
of Jerusalem? Already, my sister, with the wealth our father left me,
and much more that I have gained through my own shrewdness--for I am
the best business head in the land--I am the richest man in the city;
and with the revenues I can control in my office as tax assessor, I can
soon buy what I will from the King."
"I fear, my dear Benjamin--my dear Glaucon," said the new Berenice,
gently touching her brother's cheeks, "that the glitter of your riches
has affected your head as the sun's rays sometimes do. As for the new
garments, I shall be glad of anything that makes me fairer in your
eyes; but I still bethink me that the apparel of Jewish women is more
elegant than that of the Greeks. Indeed, the better costumes of Athens
are borrowed from those of Syria. Of late years, since the death of
our mother, and since the sorrows of the land crushed our father, the
great oaken chests have been unopened. In them are garments laid away
in cassia dust, for which the costumers of Antioch would give more
shekels than they ask to array the chief of Antiochus' concubines.
To-morrow, if it please you, let Berenice, as the mistress of the house
of Glaucon, receive the ladies whom you desire."
"As you will have it," said he, kissing the hand of his sister in the
latest manner of such etiquette imported from the capital. "Such spirit
as yours, Deb--Berenice, is worthy of her who is to outshine them all."
XX
A FEMALE SYMPOSIUM
A double awning shielded the house-top of Glaucon from the glare of the
late afternoon sun, whose rays gathered intensity by being reflected
from a hundred white domes which, like inverted wasps' nests, rose
from the lower roofs of the city. Toward the sky the canopy was of
coarse white flaxen material; beneath it was lined with silk, blue
and white. Several movable divans, one of ivory, one of beaten brass,
the others of sycamore wood, were set next the western parapet. These
were covered with cloths of various colors upon which were wrought
conventional figures in threads of silver and gold. The couches were
so arranged that they faced a low table of ebony, heavily inlaid with
mother of pearl. On this were the remnants of a repast, consisting of
cakes, confections, fruits, and wines mixed with water. On the couches
reclined four women, richly clad according to the fashion of the day.
Cynthia, the wife of General Seron, wore an outer robe of blue
silk. This was closely drawn about her person, so that the full
proportions of bust and limb were revealed by the very device for
their concealment. It was the boast of Seron that his spouse was the
best-formed woman among the wives of the generals. Her costume showed
that she was conscious of this pride of her husband, and inclined to
show that it was fully warranted. Her attitude as she reclined was
that of an Amazon, and would have been sufficient to warn away any
assailant, even if he were not terrified at the tiny spear of silver
which she held in her fingers, and which had fastened to her coiffure
the hat, a flat disc of ornamented straw, that now lay in her lap.
The Princess Helena was radiant in the relics of nature's bountiful
endowment, judiciously repaired by the newest arts of feminine fashion.
If wax and rouge, pencil and pomade were her allies, they were in
slyest ambush within unsuspected wrinkles, and gave out not so much as
a stray freckle for a sign of the delusion. Her hair was thrown back
from her forehead and temples, and banded with a triple fillet which
gathered it up at the crown, whence it sprayed down in a shower of
gold upon her alabaster neck. Her outer robe of white wool had been
thrown back, and lay upon the couch, in seemingly careless, but really
artistic, contrast with her purple chiton. This under-garment was
gathered at the left shoulder within a gemmed clasp, loosely girded
beneath the breasts, and open below, displaying her limb from foot to
thigh.
Lydia, the wife of Menelaos, the High Priest, had reason for being more
modestly covered, yet blazed in her green himation spangled with gold.
Deborah, the hostess, rivalled these beauties in the contrast of her
purely oriental costume. Her black hair was covered with what seemed
a solid helmet of gold, so many were the coins which made her cap.
About her throat and falling low upon her bosom was a great necklace of
rarest gems, which flashed in all the hues most prized by lapidaries,
from the starry white of diamonds to the deepest blush of rubies. The
pearls pendant from her ears touched her shoulders, and glowed like
rivulets of light. Her inner garment was elaborately wrought with
needlework, and partly covered with a yellow outer robe. Altogether
the Jewess was a splendid vision of wealth and beauty, of which it is
sufficient to say that it had already passed the favourable inspection
of so great a connoisseur as her brother Glaucon.
In their conversation the women seem to have exhausted all themes of a
purely human range--the faults of generals, from strategy to bow legs;
the King's stud of horses and his harem; the statuary of Phidias and
the flat-nosed gods of the Phœnicians; the epic of Hesiod, and the
latest songs from the streets of Antioch. Berenice had been induced
to tell her adventures, of which she gave as authentic an account as
perhaps her visitors gave of their romantic haps and doings on less
savory fields. The glory of the western sky, the palette of colors
ready to be painted together into the sunset, the grand old Temple
mount of the Jews, over which echoed now and then the bugle-calls of a
hostile race--these, together with the quickening influence of their
generous repast, now lifted their discourse to higher planes.
"All religions are one," said Lydia, the wife of the High Priest. "The
Jews should be the first to recognize this. Since we say that there
is one only living and true God, it surely follows that Jove, and the
Phœnicians' Baal, and Ormuzd of the Persians, and Jehovah of Israel are
the same."
"How," interposed the Princess, "how can Jehovah be Jove, the universal
god, since Jehovah never shows himself, nor is He worshipped, except in
this little land, and by the children of the one family of Abraham? He
is rather like one of our household gods, such as we teach the children
to do homage to, but ourselves use for ornaments."
"But he has not even an image," laughed Cynthia, the wife of Seron. "I
have learned in Egypt that the gods always abide near their images."
"That is if they are pretty images, beautifully carved and painted. For
the gods seem to be as vain as we women who love our mirrors," said
Helena.
"But," rejoined Cynthia, "the Jews' god is such a serious being; always
telling his people to be good, and scolding them for their sins.
That story of Mount Sinai, with its dreary rocks and sands, and the
lightnings with their nest among the peaks, and caves like great mouths
roaring out thunder; oh, it must be a doleful place! I prefer Mount
Olympus, with its fair women and warriors for divinities."
"And the worship of the Jews' God must be very tedious," added the
Princess. "On the Sabbath, no laughing, no playing."
"Our God takes his rest on that day, like an old grandfather, and does
not want his children to disturb his nap," sneered Lydia. "But my
good Menelaos is changing such customs. On Sabbath next we have the
great games. Charicles from Sparta races with a Nubian chariot runner
and an Arab sheikh, for a stake of ten shekels which the High Priest
has offered. It will be a sight; three statues, one in marble, one in
ebony, and one in porphyry, all come to life."
"The fault of the Jewish religion is that it makes too little of this
world," said the Princess. "It has no divine patron for the arts; no
Melpomene to inspire the song, no Terpsichore to stir the dance, no
Ares for war, and no Aphrodite to teach us how to love. I don't believe
that our fair hostess, who lies so solemnly there, has yet learned how
to commune with Aphrodite. I will pray that our happy goddess touch
her lips and make them itch for kisses, before the crow's feet make
their marks at her eyelids, as they soon will do if she insists on such
mannish escapades as she has been having. What shafts from Cupid's
quiver those black eyes could shoot, my fair Berenice! I shall warn all
my lovers to beware of you ere you learn your power."
"I fear that just now we need to consult the war god," said Berenice.
"Think you that Ares had gone wooing the day of the battle in the Wady?
Or did it please his godship to lend his sword to the Maccabæan rebels
rather than to Apollonius?"
"Quick! the Princess is fainting. A little wine, my dear. The death of
her kinsman went to her heart. That was a cruel thing for Berenice to
say," exclaimed Lydia, bending over her friend.
"I am better now," responded Helena in a moment. "My dear kinsman,
Apollonius, taught me to bear misfortune. It was his motto, 'Forget
the dead, except to emulate their virtues.' As he braved death, I must
brave my bereavement. I believe with Plato--do you not? that the soul
is immortal. Then Apollonius lives. Perhaps I shall see him again." She
hid her face in the cushions.
"Apollonius' death will be quickly avenged," cried Cynthia. "Already
my husband, Seron, has been called to lead the new army, and at one
blow he will utterly extirpate those Jewish beasts. All save Jerusalem,
from the Great Sea to Jordan, is to be swept with sword. The King has
put into my Seron's hand all the forces in Syria; and following them is
a great multitude of colonists from the north, who are to settle the
lands."
"Where is Seron now?" asked Berenice.
"This letter came to me but three hours since," replied Cynthia. "Let
me read:
"'The armies from the capital, joined by many phalanges recalled from
service beyond the Lebanons, are with me. We shall rendezvous on
the plain of Sharon, and thence advance westward to the hills where
the outlaw Judas has his camp. Have no fears, my love, I am not an
Apollonius. We shall this time avoid all ravines, and march only in
the open. The number of soldiers with me needs neither secrecy nor
haste. The peltastai and cavalry alone could quickly destroy all
armed bands of Jews. We shall consume the land, walled cities, open
villages, and scattered houses, as an army of grasshoppers consumes
the harvests. Not a partridge shall escape our pots, nor a Jew's head
our spear-points. Greet Glaucon with this bit of news--his friend Dion
is with us, having alone of all his company escaped the massacre at
the Wady. The day after the full moon we begin the ascent of the hill
country. Keep thy dear heart in patience until the war god rests his
head in the lap of love, for I shall be a day with you in Jerusalem
before we press to the East and South.'"
"The moon will be full three nights hence, will it not?" asked Berenice
nonchalantly.
"Nay, in two," said Lydia, consulting her tablet. "It is one of the
duties of the High Priest's wife to wait upon the Night Queen, as does
the Priestess of Tanit. The second night the moon goddess will be in
full array. I must haste to tell the news of Seron's coming to my
Menelaos, that we may have a religious celebration of the triumph."
"Then must I say farewell so soon to my new friends?" said Berenice,
rising. "Make my salutation to your good husbands, our friend Menelaos
and General Seron. And to what princely gallant will the fair Helena
convey my greeting?"
"I must keep your greeting all for myself, my dear Berenice, until time
has allayed my grief for Apollonius' death," replied the Princess.
"Unless you bid me send it on your own account to Captain Dion," she
added. "Ah, blushes tell tales the lips do not care to utter."
She kissed both the cheeks of Berenice, but did not note that her
breath blanched the blushes which Dion's name had started, as frost
kills roses.
An hour later Deborah stood beneath the jewelled lantern in her
chamber, for it was now dark. In her large mirror she saw reflected
a figure far different from that which on the roof had excited the
envy of the vainest of her sex. Her cap of coins, her necklace and
ear-rings, silken robes and bejewelled sandals, were tossed together in
a heap on the floor.
"You can arrange them, Huldah, when I am gone; and lay them back in the
chests."
The old nurse was too much blinded by her tears, and her hands were too
trembling with excitement to have performed that duty then. She sat on
the floor rocking herself, her hands covering her face.
"My darling came back to me with feet hard and torn, and in the clouts
of a washerwoman, and now she is going away again like a--like a----"
"Like a woman, a woman of Israel," interjected Deborah, adjusting the
brown sheet, the common coarse outer garment of a peasant, over her
head and around her form.
"Tell me, Huldah, do I not look like you or any other woman? If I do
I am handsome enough for the stars to gaze at. Now remember, I am
supposed to be sick and confined here in my chamber, and you are to
bring me my broth three times every day until I really come back. I
will think of your love, Huldah, and that will make me strong; and you
will think of me, and that will bring me back safely."
She kissed the cheeks of her "good mother" as she called her, and
glided across the court to the entrance of the cellar. Caleb was
already there. They descended to the lower story.
"What news for me to-night?" said a familiar voice, accompanied by the
click of a crutch on the stone pavement.
"Why, Meph, you must take me along with you for your message this time."
"Whew!" said the boy. "You're not really going yourself, Deborah?"
"Yes; can we reach Judas before morning?"
"If the stars don't get sleepy and go to bed before their time,"
replied the lad. "It's a good six hours' stretch though."
Deborah embraced Caleb, and disappeared with her guide.
XXI
BATTLE OF BETHHORON
The sun had long risen the next day when Deborah came out of a little
hut on the brow of Bethhoron Heights, several leagues to the northwest
of Jerusalem. It was one of a score of half-burned and half-demolished
structures which marked the site of a deserted hamlet.
A group of men, who had been lying among the rocks hard by, rose and
silently saluting her walked away; but not without backward glances
that betokened both reverence and curiosity.
From her high outlook Deborah's eyes took in the vast plain of Sharon,
which lay at her feet. In the far distance the blue sea mingled with
the blue of the sky; a wonderful background for the nearer landscape,
which seemed like a garden. Yellow grain-laden fields, patches of
variegated poppies and lilies, vast sections of green meadow, and
groves of fig and orange diminished by distance suggested parterres
of flowers; while the white highways from Cœle-Syria and the coast
seemed but footpaths. Far to the north the sky was dotted with circling
eagles, while the dust clouds beneath suggested the fancy that these
birds were flying cinders flung upward by some conflagration.
Deborah put her hand to her brow, and gazed long in that direction.
The dust haze began to sparkle as with fire-flies. Her trained eyes
recognized the far gleam of spear and helm.
"They come," she ejaculated.
She signalled to an armed peasant near her. "You are sure that Judas
got the message?"
"I myself delivered it, my lady. Already our little army is on its
way northward. By night they will guard every road leading up from
the plain; and then, themselves kept out of sight, they will follow
southward and strike any detachment of the Greeks that ventures to
ascend the hills. But Judas must believe that they will not attempt any
ascent until they get as far down as this, for Simon and John are hard
by, and examining every slope and runway along the front of Bethhoron."
Later in the day the astute surmise of Judas was demonstrated to
have been correct. As Deborah watched, she plainly distinguished the
detachments of the Syrian hosts succeed one another in their southerly
movement, like billows of grain under a strong breeze. When night fell
the plain of Sharon right before her gleamed with camp-fires, as the
sea with phosphorescence; while on every side she heard the rustle of
the moving bands of her countrymen, together with the subdued voices of
command. But not a light glowed on the brow of Bethhoron.
Late in the night Judas came to her.
"My child, you should not be here. It was enough to have sent us word."
"I could not remain in the city," replied Deborah, "for I clearly
foresee that to-morrow we shall have a great victory, which the Lord
will give us, or else we shall be utterly destroyed."
"But here you are in danger," responded Judas. "I beg you to return
to the city. If we succeed we shall soon join you there. If we are
destroyed the Lord will raise up others to avenge us, for His cause
rests with no single army. He is the Lord of Hosts, and will fill our
places with better men. You must live to be for them what you have been
for us. It is enough that we die."
"Nay, Judas, entreat me not. The daughter of Elkiah will meet the fate
of the sons of Mattathias. It is my father's spirit that speaks through
my lips. I shall seek no danger, but I must cheer our brave brothers,
and staunch their wounds or close their eyes in death. Do not think me
rebellious, but to this duty I am surely called by Him who commands us
both."
"I dare not command you, Deborah, for you are closer to God than I, and
know His will more perfectly. But this thing meets not my judgment.
Only do not follow the men over the heights. Yet I think we shall
succeed on the morrow. General Seron is making a mistake as clearly as
did Apollonius. When his host attempts to pass over Bethhoron it must
keep to the highway. With his horsemen and armament he cannot climb
the ledges, nor can his footmen march through the tangles of brush
and swamp. They must follow the zigzagging of the road, and move in
a long and twisting file like a string crumpled in one's hand. His
line may be twenty furlongs in length, but it will all be within five
furlongs' reach of us. Our men can cross these thickets and stone
fields as swallows skim the ground. Behind the rocks and brushwood one
of our archers will have a score for his target. Besides, we will have
the advantage of fighting from higher ground. I have no fear. Our
onslaught will be sudden; they have as yet no dream of opposition. One
is tempted to make a night attack upon their camp. But it is better to
wait; for, if I mistake not, to-morrow they will move up the Heights
like a line of captives to the headsman's block. Yonder is the valley
of Ajalon, above which the sun stood still until Joshua had gotten the
victory. Pray with us, Deborah, that the sun may not set to-morrow
until we too have been victorious. If the sun will not lengthen the day
for us, we will so crowd it with valorous deeds that we shall make it
like many days in one. Farewell! Do not venture beyond the Heights."