IN THE SHADOW OF THE WALL.
"Then thou wilt not go with me this morning?"
"Nay, I must not; this morning I am to learn how to spin. The mother of
Jesus will teach me; afterward I shall make for thee a tunic. Now thou
seest what a thing it is to have eyes." Anat looked down at the small
hands which lay folded in her lap. "These," she continued, spreading
out the slender brown fingers, "have hitherto been as idle as the hands
of a princess, but the lady Mary says that they must learn many things,
if with them I would serve him that healed me."
Seth looked half regretfully into the eager face. "Then we shall no more
dwell by ourselves as heretofore? Hast thou forgotten the desert?"
"I have not forgotten, but I would like to stay here."
"And the dromedary?"
"Thou must find it. It was not I who would leave it without in the
hands of a stranger. The lord of the desert is just in requiring it at
thy hands."
The lad turned away. "Be it so," he cried angrily. "Till I have found
it, thou wilt see my face no more; if that be never, why then----"
"Seth, Seth! Stay a moment, my brother! do not leave me so!" But he
was gone, and without turning his head.
"How can I find the beast?" he muttered to himself crossly, as he
plunged into the labyrinth of narrow streets. "I have asked everywhere
for the man Gestas, no one knows him; as for the white dromedary, men
look at me as if I were a witless fool when I speak of it. If now I
were in Egypt, I should offer a libation to Ptah Hotep, or fetch a
garland to the temple of the sacred bull, then might I receive wisdom;
if I pray to the gods of this land, how will they heed me who am an
alien?" At this point in his meditation the lad flung himself down in
the shadow of an archway, his eyes following idly the darting flight of
the sparrows overhead; something in their noisy crying brought back the
memory of the day when he bent half distracted over the unconscious form
of Anat. "There is a God who can hear somewhere," he said half aloud.
"For he both heard and answered the man who healed Anat; yet is it a
great thing to heal blindness, I dare not ask him to help me find a
beast of burden. Is there not some smaller god who cares for common
things? 'Not a sparrow falleth to the ground without your Father.'"
Where had he heard those words? It was John who had spoken them after
the scourging before the council. "That means his father, not mine;" he
went on meditatively, "I am not a Jew. Yet are there sparrows in Egypt
also; if I pray to this God, he will not I suppose strike me dead; I
will try and see what comes of it. God of this land--Jesus--if that be
thy name! I am as thou seest an Egyptian, and I know not what offering
is pleasing unto thee; and if I knew I could not provide it, for I am
poorer than yonder sparrow. Yet if it be true that thou dost care for
such, help me also, I pray thee, to find the white dromedary, which is
justly required at my hands by the lord of the desert."
When he had prayed thus, a vague comfort stole into his heart; he opened
his eyes and looking down the street, saw coming toward him two men. One
of them he instantly recognized as the man in whose keeping he had left
the dromedary; with a little cry of joy he started to his feet, but
shrank back again into the archway, and seeing a broken place in the
wall, he squeezed himself into it and stood motionless. "I will follow
after them when they have passed by," he thought within himself. "It may
be that so I shall come upon the beast unawares; if he sees me, it will
not come to pass."
But the two paused beneath the archway, and finally sat down on the
stones, neither of them noticing the motionless figure in the black
shadow of the broken wall.
"Give me thy flask if thou hast in it a swallow of wine; I am parched
with the heat," said the one who was called Gestas.
"I have no wine," replied the other; "water is better."
"Pah!" grunted Gestas testily, motioning away the proffered flask. "I
do not drink water; 'tis fit only for the beasts."
"Thou art assuredly right, good friend; the best of the wine is not too
good for thee. Do but a trifling service for me, and thou shalt not
lack for the necessary gold."
"What wouldst thou?"
The Jew hesitated for a moment as if he scarcely knew how to proceed.
Seth cautiously peered out from his hidden nook; he saw that the man was
well dressed and had, moreover, an air of importance. He listened
eagerly for his next words.
"Thou art the man who witnessed before Pilate against the malefactors,
Dumachus and Titus, who afterward suffered with the Nazarene."
Gestas started visibly, he drew away a little and fixed his small
twinkling eyes on his companion with a mixture of bravado and
apprehension.
"What if I be?" he said at length. "I was discharged by the governor
with but twenty stripes."
"Ay, but since then thou hast also--" here the speaker lowered his voice
so that Seth lost what followed.
Gestas sprang to his feet with a great oath, and half drew his knife.
"Thou knowest too much by half," he cried; "I am minded to send thee
where thou mayest prate of this to the shades."
"Peace, braggart!" said his companion, a shade of contempt in his voice.
"I am not unarmed. But thou canst see that had I spoken the word thou
wouldst even now be rotting without the walls. I did not choose,
because--thou canst serve me. Sit down and listen."
Gestas obeyed. "It is murder, I suppose," he said sullenly. "I know
you all, you rich men! You force us poor devils to accomplish your black
deeds, and dole out to us a scanty pittance from your hoarded gold; but
if there be other recompense, such as the scourge or the cross, it is
ours without grudging. Thirty pieces of silver they paid for the
Nazarene; I know, for I saw it."
"What if it be thirty pieces of gold this time?" said the Jew softly.
"The Iscariot was an ignorant Galilean; he was satisfied with the
silver. It was enough," he added with a shrug, "for he hanged himself
immediately thereafter because of his remorse. Now thou wouldst not do
that, I dare venture?"
"I? Never! Else I had been dead a score of times already. But the
matter in hand, what is it? I make no bargain, understand, till I know."
"'Tis simple enough--and--safe. Only the disposal of a man without
family, and--yes--without friends. He is moreover blood-guilty; his
removal is therefore lawful."
"Why then dost thou----"
"Why do I not perform the deed myself? A proper question; thou hast
understanding. It is--most sapient Gestas--not my affair. I represent
another; that other is not in a position to avenge himself personally,
nevertheless he will be avenged. Wilt thou undertake this--for thirty
pieces of gold?"
"Ten pieces now--thirty afterward, and I will do it."
"Say five now!"
"Nay, ten; I have no mind to risk my life for a pittance."
The other produced his wallet, albeit with some show of reluctance, and
passed it into the hand of Gestas. "There are just ten pieces within,"
he remarked. "Thou mayest count them."
Gestas fumbled over the coins deliberately, counting them in a sibilant
whisper. "One--two--three--four--five--six--seven--eight--nine--ten. Yes
ten--and a bit of silver." Then he lifted the pouch to the light and
looked at it critically; "I will keep this also--and the silver," he
added with a knowing leer.
"Of course, keep that also," said his companion, eying him with an
inscrutable smile. "But I have not told thee the man's name. His head
must thou deliver to me this very night at midnight, if thou wouldst
receive the thirty pieces. It is known to me where thou art encamped
with thy followers."
"I make no secret of that," said Gestas with a boastful laugh. "There
is good water for our beasts in the valley of Hinnom, and it is not too
far from the highway. If therefore thou wilt be in waiting just without
the Jaffa gate, the head shall be delivered into thy hand at the hour
named; if not to-night, why then to-morrow night; one must have time to
snare the bird. But thou hast not yet told me the name."
"True; well then listen!" leaning forward, the Jew whispered for a
little space into the ear of Gestas, who nodded twice or thrice as if he
understood.
"I know the man," he said. "No one better; he should by right be about
another business," then he laughed aloud as if something afforded him
much secret amusement. "I have done for the father, I am once avenged;
now I will be twice avenged, which is better. I know also how to lure
him into a safe place. Thou wilt not fail with the thirty pieces?"
"I swear by the Temple that I will not fail."
"Good! Now there is another matter; I have in my camp a dromedary of
great swiftness which I wish to dispose of at a fair price; the animal
is young, docile, well trained; it is moreover of a white color; I have
never seen the like. I bought the beast of a caravan and paid for it a
great sum."
"No doubt," replied his companion suavely; "but let us first finish the
matter in hand. One thing at a time, and diligently done, maketh a well
ordered life," he continued piously. "So then I leave the affair in thy
hands."
"Thou mayest trust me!" cried Gestas with a great laugh; he rose as he
spoke and brought down his broad palm on the other man's shoulder with a
sounding thwack. "Thou hast made no mistake in putting the matter into
my hands, it will--" here he stopped short and stared fixedly into the
shadow of the arch. "Body of Jove!" he exclaimed. "It seems that we
are not alone!" And reaching forward, he grasped the wretched Seth by
the shoulder and dragged him forth into the sunlight.
"What wast thou doing there, thou devil's imp? Nay, but thou shalt
answer dearly for this."
But Seth had not shifted for himself all his thirteen years of life for
naught. He instantly perceived that the man did not recognize him;
rubbing his eyes stupidly, he stammered out something about sleeping
soundly. Then he stretched out his hand toward the Jew who was
regarding him suspiciously from under his bent brows, and whined out a
petition for alms.
"Wilt thou that I give thee a gold piece?" said Gestas in the Greek
tongue.
Seth regarded him blankly. "I do not understand, honored sir," he said
humbly.
The companion of Gestas looked relieved. "It is safe enough if the
beggar understood us not," he said. "Best take him along with you and
make him secure till afterward; then release him."
"It may be that he doth not understand," rejoined Gestas, staring
fixedly at the lad with his fierce red eyes; "yet there is but one kind
of a man who can be trusted to tell no tales, and that is a dead man.
All languages are alike to the tongue that hath ceased to move; any
other tongue is to be feared."
The other shrugged his shoulders indifferently. "Ah well, do with him as
thou wilt; life can be nothing to such as he. Only take him away. Till
the hour and place of our agreement, farewell!" and turning he walked
rapidly away, without once looking behind him.
For an instant Seth meditated flight; but the burly figure of Gestas was
planted directly in front of him; to elude him would be impossible.
Raising his eyes he saw the brown head and bright eyes of a sparrow,
perched securely upon the ledge of the arch above him; the little
creature was regarding the scene with apparent curiosity. Presently
with a wild cry it darted away to join its fellows. The lad followed its
flight with envious eyes, and for the second time he remembered the
strange words of John, "Not a sparrow falleth to the ground without your
Father." Again he prayed to the unknown God who minded even the little
wild things of the air, and as before he was comforted.
Gestas was evidently considering the situation with care, for he
continued to stand silent before his prisoner, his arms akimbo, his
small savage eyes riveted upon the figure before him. "Wouldst thou
that I release thee?" he asked suddenly in the Greek tongue.
"If it please thee, good sir," responded Seth, quite off his guard.
Gestas smiled evilly. "It doth not please me, boy. Now march before
me--so. Remember that I have in my hand a knife." And grasping the boy
by the shoulders, he shoved him with a kind of terrible gentleness into
the street.
Like one in a dream the lad walked before his captor. From time to time
he looked wildly about in the vain hope of rescue, but the few
passers-by went about their business with unseeing eyes, and an
occasional prick of the knife from behind warned him that instant death
awaited him should he venture to cry out. At length they had passed
quite out of the city; here Gestas paused for a moment, and seeing that
no one was by, he proceeded to bind the lad's hands securely behind his
back.
"Thou art such a proper liar," he remarked with a grin, "that I am
minded to leave thee alive for a while longer." Seth made no reply, nor
did he cry out when Gestas playfully thrust the knife within a hair's
breadth of his throat.
"If I must die," he thought, "I will at least die like a man." Then he
remembered Anat sitting happily at her spinning at the feet of the
gentle Mary; the tears rose to his eyes and brimming over rolled in
great drops down his brown cheeks. He shook them off valiantly. "Tears
do not become a man," he said to himself sternly.
"Come, come, my lad," cried Gestas, "my business requireth haste as well
as diligence. We must be getting on." Then feeling very merry indeed,
he put up his knife and fetched out his newly-acquired pouch; shaking it
so that all the gold pieces within clinked musically, he strode along,
chanting a pagan rhyme of Bacchus and the pleasures of the vine.
After a time they reached one of the narrow denies which wind between
the hills on either side of the Valley of Hinnom, and here they
presently came upon the encampment, cunningly placed within a copse of
low-growing trees on the edge of a stream.
Half a score of men were scattered about upon the greensward, some of
them eating and drinking, others playing at dice, and others still
stretched out at full length in the shade asleep.
The arrival of Gestas and his prisoner was greeted with a shout of
laughter. "Ha! our worthy chief hath made a notable capture," cried
one, sauntering up to Seth and looking down at him. "A mighty man of
valor is he truly to accomplish the overthrow of such as this. How many
bags of gold didst thou take from him?"
Gestas winked significantly. "I shall take three, if the gods prosper
me," he replied; then he bound the lad's ankles together, and bidding
the man keep an eye upon the prisoner, he threw himself down upon the
ground and demanded food and drink. Two or three others gathered about
him, and to these he talked rapidly in low tones as he ate; but nothing
of what was being said reached the ears of Seth, who was beginning to
suffer intense agony from the tightness of the cords with which his
wrists and ankles were bound.
He ventured at length to speak of this to the man who had been detailed
to watch him; his guard good-naturedly loosened the bonds, then relapsed
into a doze, which presently deepened into a heavy sleep.
As the hours crept slowly by, Seth worked cautiously and unceasingly to
loosen further the cords at his wrists. Towards evening he found to his
intense joy that his hands were free. No one noticed him; the man at
his feet still slept heavily; and after awhile he ventured stealthily to
undo the thongs which bound his feet together; then he sat motionless,
not daring to stir till the shadows should deepen.
As evening drew on, Gestas accompanied by two of the other men left the
camp; he cast a glance in the direction of the lad as he passed by him,
and hesitated for a moment as if he were minded to examine his bonds,
but finally went his way. No sooner had he disappeared, than the lad
crept away among the trees and bushes; before many minutes he had
reached the edge of the thicket, here he paused breathlessly to listen,
then rising to his feet, ran like the wind in the direction of the city.
"I must find Ben Hesed," he said. "He will know what to do."