WITHOUT THE JAFFA GATE.
The sunset hour was always a time of peace and peculiar joy in the house
of John. The toils and dangers of the day being well over, the family
were wont to gather upon the housetop, there to talk over what had
happened during the hours that were passed. The golden glories of the
dying day served to bring to their minds, each recurring evening, that
place beyond the toils and sorrows of earth which their Lord had gone to
prepare, and toward which each day's journey was swiftly hurrying them.
Here the mother of Jesus sat enshrined in saintly peace; here also were
John and Peter with the other apostles; Anna, the wife of Caiaphas,
Stephen, and of late the black-eyed Egyptian maiden, together with many
others who came to them for help, instruction, or healing. The number
of such homes was daily increasing in Jerusalem; yet it was at this
door, perhaps more often than at any other, that wretched humanity
knocked for admittance, and admittance was always granted. For to these
had been committed the ministry of the ascended Christ, with all that
this signified of power and of blessing.
To-night into their midst came Ben Hesed, to talk once more with the
apostles concerning the Crucified One. He brought with him the scrolls
of the Prophecies, for he was troubled about certain points therein.
"How is it," he said, "that it is written, 'Accursed be every one that
hangeth upon the tree?' Surely God's Anointed could not be accursed."
"Dost thou doubt concerning him already?" asked Peter sternly.
"Nay, I doubt not, man; my spirit witnesseth within me that the thing is
true. But I would fain be able to speak convincingly to them which
believe not, when I shall have returned into the wilderness. It is not
granted to every one to behold the angel of deliverance."
"Thou hast spoken wisely, who art wise," said John gently. "The young
man Stephen doth without ceasing make study of that which hath been
written aforetime concerning the Christ. Yea, the spirit also hath
revealed to him many things which have been hid from the eyes of the
wise; and this to our profit who are sorely beset with the duties of our
ministry. Read, I beseech thee, my brother, from the scroll which thou
hast prepared."
"Concerning him which hath been hanged, it is written in the law thus,"
said Stephen, who a little apart from the others had been poring in
silence over a number of parchments. "'If a man have committed a sin
worthy of death, and he be put to death, and thou hang him upon a tree.
His body shall not remain all night upon the tree, but thou shalt surely
bury him that day; for he that is hanged is accursed of God. That thy
land be not defiled which the Lord thy God giveth thee for an
inheritance.'
"But and if a sinless and holy man be put to death by false accusation,
how is it that he is accursed? Herein is a great mystery, which as yet
we see only in part, nor indeed can it be apprehended of mortals, that
God gave his only begotten Son, not only that he should live amongst us
a holy and sinless life, but that he should yield up that life in all
meekness at the hands of his enemies. This also being the will of the
Father concerning him; as he himself said, and as the voice of many
prophets declare--who being dead yet speak to us in the words of the
scripture. Are we not every one accursed, for we have sinned in the
sight of God; and he, the sinless one, hath through the infinite
compassion of the Father become accursed in our place. Even as it is
written by the hand of the prophet Isaiah, 'He was wounded for our
transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities, the chastisement of
our peace was upon him and with his stripes we are healed.'
"And behold these sayings--'I gave my back to the smiters, and my cheeks
to them that plucked off the hair: I hid not my face from shame and from
spitting'--'The assembly of the wicked have closed in upon me, they
pierced my hands and my feet'--'They parted my garments among them, and
cast lots upon my vesture'--'They gave me also gall for my meat, and in
my thirst they gave me vinegar to drink'--'I became a reproach unto
them, when they looked upon me they wagged their heads.' And this, 'his
visage was so marred more than any man, and his form more than the sons
of men'--'He was despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrows, and
acquainted with grief; and we hid as it were our faces from him'--'He
was taken from prison and from judgment and who shall declare his
generation, for he was cut off out of the land of the living, for the
transgression of my people was he stricken'--'And he made his grave with
the wicked and with the rich in his death.'
"All these sayings I found concerning him," continued the young man
gravely, "written many generations before his birth; they might have
been writ yesterday by one who witnessed his death. Also by the hand of
the prophet Daniel is this: 'And after three score and two weeks shall
Messiah be cut off, but not for himself, and the people of the prince
that shall come shall destroy the city and the sanctuary; and the end
thereof shall be as a flood, and unto the end of the war desolations are
determined.'"
"The end is yet to come," said Ben Hesed, involuntarily clenching his
strong hands and looking toward the walls of the mighty temple, which
shone white and mystical in the soft light of the rising moon.
"He himself foretold all that hath happened," said John sorrowfully,
"and what is yet to come; how that he should be delivered up to the
Romans, and should be mocked and spitefully entreated, spitted upon,
scourged and crucified. It lay heavily upon him so that even he, who
walked ever in the light of God, was exceeding sorrowful; and when he
looked to us for sympathy that last awful night, we--slept. God forgive
us!"
"He hath forgiven us all things," said Peter. "He bore our sins in his
own body on the tree. For the love of him, shall we not gladly suffer
what shall yet befall us? for he told us plainly that the world would
hate us, even as it hated him; that we also should be persecuted,
scourged, and put to death. Yet how soon will all be past, and then we
shall go to him."
In the silence which followed these words a loud knocking was heard at
the outer gate of the courtyard. Stephen arose quietly from his place
and descended the stair. When he had opened the door, he saw standing
in the street a man. He was meanly clad, as Stephen could see by the
dim light; therefore his voice was more gentle than usual as he said:--
"What wilt thou, friend?"
"Is there here a young man called Stephen?"
"I am he; wilt thou enter?"
The man shuffled uneasily on his feet, then looked furtively up and down
the street. "There be a sick man who hath need of thee for healing and
strong words of thy faith," he said at length, fixing his eyes upon
Stephen.
"Wouldst thou not rather inquire for one of the twelve?"
"Nay, it was for one Stephen, a Greek, I was bidden to ask. The man I
have spoken of is also a Greek, and would not ask for healing at the
hands of a Jew."
"The healing cometh from God," said Stephen gravely. "I will come
though. Where is the sick man?"
"I will show thee where he lieth," said the man eagerly; "and I pray
thee to make haste, for his case is desperate."
"Let me first speak to them that are within, I will join thee
immediately," said Stephen, stepping back into the courtyard and leaving
the door partly open.
The man listened to the sound of his retreating steps as he ascended the
stair. "They be all above," he muttered, stepping softly within. "Now
if by any chance--Ha! what is this? A capital warm cloak, 'twill serve
to shelter me these chill nights. Body of Jove! but I am always in luck
of late!"
When Stephen returned, the man was waiting humbly without as he had left
him. The two immediately set forth, the man going before; they walked
swiftly through the dark narrow streets, the stranger glancing
frequently over his shoulder to make sure that Stephen was following.
After a time he paused, "'Tis without the walls," he muttered hoarsely.
"We must pass through the Jaffa Gate."
"There is moonlight," said Stephen rather absently, raising his eyes to
the heavens, where in truth his thoughts had been as he followed his
strange guide.
"There is moonlight," repeated the man with a hoarse chuckle. "So much
the better."
Stephen looked at the speaker more attentively than he had done at
first; the white light which poured down from above revealing clearly
every feature of the brutal face before him. He started visibly. "I
have somewhere seen thee before!" he exclaimed. "Nay I know now, thou
art of them who formerly----"
The man laughed aloud. "I am Gestas; second in authority to Dumachus,
who was chief of our band--and your father. Since the Romans put an end
to him, along with Titus and the Nazarene, I have been chief."
"And is it one of your followers who is in need of healing?" asked
Stephen, shrinking back a little with something of his old-time dread.
"It is. Art thou afraid?"
"No," returned Stephen quietly, "I am not afraid; surely of all men ye
are most in need of the mighty help of the risen Lord; 'twere most
fitting if so be that I may bring it into your midst."
Gestas looked at him with an indescribable mixture of contempt and pity.
"Thou art a pretty enough fellow," he said, running his eyes over the
slender but well-knit figure. "A thought too pretty indeed. Why art
thou contented to pass thy days in the company of a band of crazy fools,
who will end as their Master did--though he merited it not--on the
cross. Why take the devil's wages without the devil's pleasures first?
If now, I die on the cross, it will be for reasons better than
preaching, praying, and the healing of dirty beggar folk."
"Afterward is the judgment," said Stephen.
"A fig for the afterwards!" cried Gestas. "Who knows anything about
that? But, come," he added with a sudden change in his tones, "it lacks
but an hour of midnight; thou must be gone before that time."
"I am not in haste to be gone," said Stephen gently. "I will remain
until morning, if I can do anything to help."
"There is naught that thou canst do--after midnight," said Gestas
gruffly. "If there is an afterwards," he muttered, "it will make no
difference to him."
The two walked silently for a time, pausing at length at the edge of a
low-growing coppice, through the interlacing branches of which could be
seen the fitful flash of a dying fire. Making their way through the
thicket by a winding path evidently well known to Gestas, the twain
presently found themselves in the centre of the encampment.
"Where is the dying man?" said Stephen, eager to begin his ministry of
love.
For answer, Gestas seized him by the arm and hurried him forward into
the midst of a dark group of figures which seemed to be awaiting their
approach. "Thou art the dying man!" he whispered hoarsely. "Prepare
for thy afterwards swiftly."
Half involuntarily, Stephen made a mighty unavailing effort to free
himself from the grasp of the ruffian who held him; life on a sudden
looked very sweet to him. It could not be that God had appointed such
an end as this for one who would serve him long and faithfully. Surely
he was too young to die. Yet not younger than Titus, who had gone by
the horrible way of the cross to be with him in Paradise. At the
thought a great peace possessed his soul. "Not my will but thine be
done," he murmured aloud, raising his eyes to the stars which glittered
keenly through the interlacing branches overhead.
"So this is the man!" cried a rough voice, as a dozen hands bound him to
the trunk of a tree. "It may be that if he hath the power to heal, as
they say, he will be master also of other magic arts, which he will use
to our undoing. Best make way with him quickly."
Stephen looked about on the crowd of evil faces which surrounded him,
and a great wave of pity for his tormentors swept over him. So far were
they from God, so deep in unfathomable depths of misery. For himself he
felt no fear; from earth to heaven was but a single step.
"Men and brethren," he cried, and his voice rang out clear and sweet
upon the startled air. "Let me live for yet a little space, till I shall
declare unto you the words of life. For such as you, Jesus died upon
the cross; he will save you from out the misery of this present life,
and afterward give you the life that endeth not. Only believe on him
and forsake your evil ways."
"Prate not to us of thy Jewish Messiah," cried one. "He is not for us,
even if what thou sayest be true. We must die as we have lived. We be
uncircumcised Greeks that care not for an everlasting abode with them
that spit upon us in this life."
"Nay, but he died for the sins of the world, and he is risen from death
to abide forever with the Father which made the Greek as well as the
Jew, and loveth both alike."
"Give to us a sign!" cried another. "If what thou hast said be true,
let the man Jesus come down out of the heavens and deliver thee, then
will we believe on him; nay, more, thou shalt be our leader in place of
Gestas here--who is too stupid to be chief."
At this Gestas swore a great oath of rage. "Stand back, all of you," he
cried. "I will smite him; and there is none that shall deliver him out
of my hand, either on earth or in heaven."
Then he raised his arm; Stephen caught the keen glitter of the steel.
He closed his eyes. His lips moved in prayer. Something smote him on
the breast, but it was not the soul-delivering blade, as he dimly
realized ere his senses left him. Gestas, stricken full in the heart by
an arrow sped from the bow of an unseen archer, had leapt straight into
the air without a cry, then falling limply, his head striking against
the prisoner, he lay, a grim unsightly heap, at Stephen's feet.
The others stood for an instant aghast, then with wild cries of fear
they fled away into the thicket.
"I fear the knaves have done for him, whoever he be," cried a voice, as
the figure of a young man bounded out of the bushes.
"Nay, my son," said Ben Hesed, who had followed more deliberately, "the
miscreant had but raised his blade when my arrow smote him; let us loose
the man here and get away from this place with all speed, for they will
return and fall upon us, if they find that we be few."
"I must fetch the white dromedary," said the voice of Seth, at his
elbow. "It is in yonder glade."
"Be quick, then; there is no time to lose!"
The moon had looked down for a full hour longer upon the dark motionless
something, which lay just where it had fallen on the soft grass, when
the thicket again opened and a man peered out. He looked about him
cautiously, then turned and spoke reassuringly to some one behind him.
"There is no one here, Joca; come on!"
"It was a bolt from heaven assuredly which smote him; for there is
naught missing save the man," said the other, looking keenly about in
his turn at the familiar scene; "Let us get away from this place; I am
sick of it."
"Ay! we will return to Greece where the old gods yet rule; I like not
the ways of the god of this land; but first--" And the speaker
cautiously approached the body of Gestas. "He hath something about him,
which we shall have more need of than he. Ah! here it is, ten good
pieces--if he have not already spent some of them."
"But there were to have been thirty pieces more."
"Ay! and more's the pity that they be lost to us."
"Why need they be lost to us, man?"
"What meanest thou?"
Joca whispered something in his companion's ear, whereat the other
chuckled hoarsely.
"Why not?" he cried, "thou art a son of Minerva to have thought it."
The servant of Annas had waited outside the Jaffa gate for nearly two
hours; he was growing impatient at last.
"I will not stay longer," he muttered, "something hath miscarried in the
matter; it will be to-morrow--if the knave hath not failed me
altogether."
But even as he spoke he saw a man approaching him. He at once stood
forth in the full moonlight, bidding his companions remain within the
shadow of the wall.
The man came up to him swiftly. "Art thou he who hath thirty pieces of
gold to give in exchange for a strange commodity?"
"I am he. Hast thou the commodity?"
"Ay! it is here; wilt thou see it?"
The Jew shuddered at sight of the bag which the other tendered him.
"No!" he said shortly. "Take the money and be gone." Then he turned to
one of the slaves who waited his orders. "Take this," he commanded,
"and fetch it to the palace."