IN PURSUIT OF THE FUGITIVES.
To Abu Ben Hesed, sitting, as was his wont at the sunset hour, in the
door of his tent, came Pagiel. It was the evening of the fourth day
after he had seen the two children disappear from out his sight on the
back of the white dromedary. He had not made haste to return; he needed
time to think, for he was slow-witted, and the matter in hand was
weighty.
"There is no place like the solitude of the wilderness for meditation,"
quoth Pagiel. So he abode quietly in the place where he was for one
full day. Not so the son of Kish the herdsman; he was impatient.
"Let me return, I beseech thee," he said to Pagiel, "I would fain look
upon the face of my bride."
"What art thou saying, man?" cried Pagiel hotly. "Dost thou think that
now I shall give to thee my daughter? Our matter is ended."
But Ben Kish loved the daughter of Pagiel; he was therefore bold and
determined. Moreover, he saw that the man was afraid to return. "My
father is wroth," he said, "because the two Egyptians have fled away
with the beast. I will return to my lord and I will tell him what they
have done. Surely it was meet that such should be sold into slavery and
that their value be given the daughter of Pagiel for her dowry."
"Nay, thou shalt not return!" cried Pagiel. "If the thing be told Ben
Hesed then should I be cut off from among my kinsfolk and brethren."
Ben Kish smiled. "Is it better for thee to be thus cut off," he said,
"or to have for thy son the son of Kish? For of these two things, one
shall assuredly come to pass."
"Swear to me that thou wilt keep the thing secret," said Pagiel, "and I
will give thee my daughter, even as I have said."
"Swear to me that thou wilt give me thy daughter," replied Ben Kish,
"and I will keep the thing secret."
So they both sware a great oath; and they builded that day of the stones
of the place a memorial, in token that as the stones which endure
without change, even so must their compact remain. Then they gat them
up and made haste to return, and the son of Kish laughed within himself
because he had prevailed; but Pagiel was so busy inventing a tale which
should explain the loss of the white dromedary, that he thought no more
of the matter.
"Ben Hesed is a hard man," he thought. "If I say thieves came and stole
the beast while we were returning, he will say, 'Why then didst thou not
pursue and slay them? Thou hast no wounds.' If I say the beast fled
away from us into the desert, he will laugh me to scorn. Nay, I will
tell him the truth; it is after all best; moreover, God loveth a
truthful man. I will say this; the Egyptian brats rose up whilst we
were asleep in the midst of the day, and they took the beast and fled.
We pursued them also till the going down of the sun, but could not
overtake them."
So he told Ben Hesed this, and when he had done speaking he waited to
hear what his lord should say. For a long time he said nothing, because
he was very angry, and it was his wont to refrain from speaking when he
was thus disquieted.
"Shall a man rage like a wild beast?" he would say. "Nay, for in so
doing he is no longer a man; let him rather remain silent, remembering
that God made him in his own image. The heavens are voiceless even when
the earth beneath runs red with blood. Men blaspheme the name of
Jehovah, yet is there no answering bolt of wrath to slay them. Let us
then be patient as befits them that are but a little lower than the
angels, created in the likeness of the Eternal One."
On this occasion Ben Hesed was silent so long that Pagiel was
frightened; he had bowed himself to the earth, and he still remained in
this humble posture that he might escape the lightnings which leapt up
in his lord's eyes as he heard the tale.
After a time he became very uncomfortable, the sand on which his
forehead rested was hot, his knees shook beneath him. "Why do I abase
myself before this man," he said within himself. At the thought he too
grew angry, and because anger is stronger than fear, he leapt up and
stood before Ben Hesed.
Ben Hesed also arose. "I will myself pursue these Egyptians," he said,
"and I will bring them again into the wilderness; the wilderness shall
avenge me."
Then he made haste and gat him gone within the hour, but Pagiel remained
behind; he had now the matter of the marriage in hand. Remembering this
as he went to his own tent, he again tore his beard and cried aloud to
God to help him in his extremity. But for the life of him he could
think of no other word save that which the psalmist David wrote,
"The wicked plotteth against the just
And gnasheth upon him with his teeth,
But the Lord shall laugh at him,
For he seeth that his day is coming."
And in this there was so little comfort that he prayed no more.
Ben Hesed arrived at the borders of Judaea after a journey which
consumed but half the usual time, for he tarried not to rest at noontide
nor at night. Once beyond the river he began to make inquiry among the
people concerning the white dromedary, and because beasts of that sort
and color not often passed that way he soon found them that had seen
her. In this place had the runaways stayed for a night; in another had
they bartered a coin from the girl's necklace for provender for the
beast.
"At least they have not abused the animal," said Ben Hesed to himself,
and insensibly his anger cooled day by day.
"I shall hear what the lad hath to say before I pass judgment upon him,"
he said to his son who accompanied him. "It is best to look at both
sides of a matter--yea, and within it also. When a man hath done this
to the best of his ability how far short doth he fall of the complete
knowledge of God, who made the soul and to whom it lieth open like a
parchment that is unrolled; therefore should man leave punishments to
God. I will not lift my hand against the two as I at first purposed in
my heart; and in this thou seest, my son, how wise it is to make haste
slowly in matters that pertain to revenge. The hours that pass cool the
angry heart even as drops of rain quench the glowing coals. This is
good; a year from now I shall think little of the loss of the beast, and
if I shew mercy it will endure in my heart for many years as a sweet
savor. Look always at a present calamity as if it had happened many
moons since, then shalt thou be able to judge whether it be worth thy
while to be angry and to avenge thyself."
Beguiling the way with good words of the like, and at the same time
keeping a wary eye out for the white dromedary, the worthy man journeyed
on towards Jerusalem, for it was there that he confidently expected to
find the fugitives.
When at length they came within sight of the holy city, lying fair and
white amid the green and gentle mountain slopes, the travelers were
amazed to see the numbers of folk who were going into it by every road.
"What may this mean?" said Ben Hesed. "It is not feast time."
Presently they passed one of these companies, and they saw that in the
midst was a sick man on his litter; he was groaning dismally as his bed
shook beneath him with the unevenness of the way.
"Why dost thou fetch this man into Jerusalem?" asked Ben Hesed of the
bearers.
"To be healed," they answered him. "Happy shall we be if we get him
there alive; already this is the third day since we started with him,
and death pursueth after us faster than we can journey."
Ben Hesed marvelled at their answer, but he forbore to question them
further, for he saw that they had no mind to talk. Presently he came
upon a woman sitting by the wayside and weeping bitterly.
"Why dost thou weep, woman?" he asked of her, for he was not of those
who reckoned it a defilement to speak to a woman.
"I weep," she answered him, "because, although I am in sight of the Holy
City, I can go no further and my child must, after all, perish."
She thrust out her feet from beneath her robe, and Ben Hesed saw that
they were horribly bruised, cut and blistered, as if she had walked a
long way. As for the child, it lay waxen-faced and silent in her arms,
the purple eyelids half dropped over the dull eyes. Ben Hesed shook his
head gravely as he looked at it; it seemed to him that it was beyond
help.
"Thou shalt ride upon my beast," he said, "and thus reach the city
speedily. I will walk beside thee."
The woman smiled through her tears. "Now may the God of Abraham, Isaac
and Jacob bless thee!" she cried; then she looked down at her babe, and
her face whitened. "It may be too late," she murmured.
"From whence hast thou come?" asked Ben Hesed gently.
"From beyond Jordan, in the hill country. I heard of what was being
done in Jerusalem, and so when my babe sickened I rose up with him and
hastened to come hither, but the sickness hath increased by the way. I
fear----"
"The man Jesus is of great power," interrupted Ben Hesed hastily. "It
hath been said of him that he hath even raised the dead."
The woman looked startled. "Thou art, then, a stranger in these parts,"
she said, "and have not heard what hath come to pass of late in
Jerusalem?"
"I am from the wilderness; what is it that hath come to pass?"
"The man Jesus hath been slain--crucified!" said the woman, her heavy
eyes blazing with indignation.
Ben Hesed was silent for a moment, "Why did they slay him?" he asked at
length.
"Nay, I know not," said the woman wearily, folding the child close to
her bosom. "I saw him once in my own village. He did there many mighty
works of healing, and of the things which he said, I remember much even
to this day. He was a great prophet, and now is his power fallen on his
disciples, even as the mantle of Elijah fell upon Elisha when he
ascended in the chariot of fire and had, therefore, no further need of a
mantle."
Ben Hesed looked once more at the city to which they were now drawing
very near. "Thus saith the Lord God," he murmured, "This is Jerusalem;
I have set it in the midst of the nations and countries that are round
about her. The end is at hand, behold it watcheth for thee, O thou that
dwellest in the land! The time is come, the day of trouble is near.
Now will I shortly pour out my fury upon thee and accomplish my anger
upon thee. And I will judge thee according to thy ways, and will
recompense thee for all thine abominations, for the land is full of
bloody crimes, and the city is full of violence."
And when they were now come to the gates, they had much ado to enter in,
because of the great multitude of the sick, lame and blind which were
coming from every quarter. The streets were filled with them, and with
the noise of their groaning and wailing. Ben Hesed, his son and his two
servants, together with the woman, who still held the quiet child close
to her bosom, followed on with the others.
After a time it became impossible to proceed further, so they waited
where they were. Near them two men were holding a demoniac, who
bellowed loudly from time to time, and tore at his clothes, which were
already in ribbons, and at the hair and faces of his guardians. A
little further on, the keen eye of Ben Hesed descried a palsied man
lying on his bed, his emaciated face the color of death. Beyond him
were a group of blind men, waiting with the hopeless apathy of
accustomed misery for something, they scarce knew what. Save for the
moans and cries of the sick ones there was scarcely a sound; the sun
beat fiercely down from above, the yellow dust rose in stifling clouds
from beneath, and still they waited.
At length from somewhere afar off there rose a cry--a wild, jubilant,
inarticulate sound; a deep answering murmur arose from the ghastly
throng of sufferers about them. This strange pean of joy rose and fell,
now swelling loudly, now dying away, but always drawing nearer. Ben
Hesed looked at the woman; she was fumbling wildly at the wrappings
which swathed her babe; she bent her head as if to listen at his tiny
chest.
"My God!" she cried, "it is too late; he is dead." Then she dropped
back breathless and waxen as the little form which she still held close
in her arms.
Ben Hesed caught her as she fell; he looked about him for help.
"Here is water," said a voice at his side, and looking up he saw, to his
intense astonishment, Seth, the Egyptian lad. At the same moment the
boy recognized him, and started back with a little cry.
"This is no time to speak of what concerneth thee and me," said Ben
Hesed sternly. "Give me the water!" And he fell to sprinkling the face
of the woman with no sparing hand.
"They are coming!" shouted the lad. "Stay! I will bring him hither,"
and he darted away into the throng.
Ben Hesed looked after him quietly. "The wicked flee when no man
pursueth," he said under his breath, "yet shall sure wrath overtake him,
neither shall a swift foot deliver him. Come!" he added, turning to his
son, "let us bear this woman hence; there is now no further need to wait
for them that heal."