Pearl-Maiden: Chapter 13

Chapter 13

WOE, WOE TO JERUSALEM

Two more years went by, two dreadful, bloody years. In Jerusalem the
factions tore each other. In Galilee let the Jewish leader Josephus,
under whom Caleb was fighting, do what he would, Vespasian and his
generals stormed city after city, massacring their inhabitants by
thousands and tens of thousands. In the coast towns and elsewhere
Syrians and Jews made war. The Jews assaulted Gadara and Gaulonitis,
Sebaste and Ascalon, Anthedon and Gaza, putting many to the sword.
Then came their own turn, for the Syrians and Greeks rose upon them and
slaughtered them without mercy. As yet, however, there had been no blood
shed in Tyre, though all knew that it must come. The Essenes, who
had been driven from their home by the Dead Sea and taken refuge in
Jerusalem, sent messengers to Miriam warning her to flee from Tyre,
where a massacre was being planned; warning her also not to come to
Jerusalem, which city they believed to be doomed, but to escape, if
possible over sea. Nor was this all, for her own people, the Christians,
besought her to fly for her life's sake with them to the city of Pella,
where they were gathering from Jerusalem and all Jud�a. To both Miriam
answered that what her grandsire did, that she must do. If he fled,
she would fly; if he stayed at Tyre, she would stay; if he went to
Jerusalem, she would go; for he had been good to her and she had sworn
that while he lived she would not desert him. So the Essene messengers
went back to Jerusalem, and the Christian elders prayed with her, and
having blessed her and consigned her to the care of the Most High and
His Son, their Lord, departed to Pella, where, as it was fated, through
all those dreadful times not a hair of their heads was touched.

When she had parted from them, Miriam sought out her grandfather, whom
she found pacing his chamber with a troubled air.

"Why do you look so sad, Miriam?" he asked. "Have some of your friends
warned you that new sorrows are afoot?"

"Yes, grandfather," and she told him all.

"I do not believe them," he said passionately. "Say, do you? Where is
their authority? I tell you that we shall triumph. Vespasian is now
Emperor in Rome, and there will forget this little land; and the rest,
those enemies who are of our own house and those without it, we will
conquer and kill. The Messiah will come, the true Messiah. Many signs
and wonders declare that he is at hand. Ay! I myself have had a vision
concerning him. He will come, and he will conquer, and Jerusalem shall
be great and free and see her desire upon her enemies. I ask--where is
your authority for these croakings?"

Miriam drew a roll from her robe and read: "But when ye see Jerusalem
compassed with armies, then know that her desolation is at hand. Then
let them which are in Jud�a flee unto the mountains; and let them which
are in the midst of her depart out; and let not them that are in the
country enter therein. For these are days of vengeance, that all things
that are written may be fulfilled. Woe to them that are with child and
to them that give suck in those days! for there shall be great distress
upon the land and wrath unto this people. And they shall fall by the
edge of the sword, and shall be led captive into all the nations; and
Jerusalem shall be trodden down of the Gentiles until the times of the
Gentiles be fulfilled."

Benoni listened patiently until she had done. Then he answered with
contempt:

"So says the book of your Law, but mine tells me otherwise. Well,
child, if you believe it and are afraid, begone with your friends, the
Christians, and leave me to meet this storm alone."

"I do believe it," she answered quietly, "but I am not afraid."

"That is strange," he said, "since you must then believe also that you
will come to a cruel death, which has terrors for the young and fair."

"Not so, grandfather, for this same writing promises that in these
troubles not one of us Christians shall perish. It is for you that I
fear, not for myself, who will go where you go, and bide where you bide.
Therefore, once more, and for the last time, I pray you to be wise and
fly--who otherwise must be slain"; and as Miriam said the words her blue
eyes filled with tears.

Benoni looked at her and for a moment his courage was shaken.

"Of your book I take no account," he said, "but in the vision of your
pure spirit I am tempted to believe. Perhaps the things that you foresee
will happen, so, child, fly. You will not lack an escort and I can give
you treasure."

She shook her head. "I have said that I will not go without you."

"Then I fear that you here must bide, for I will not leave my wealth and
home, even to save my life, and still less will I desert my people in
their holy war. Only, Miriam, if things fall out ill for us, remember
that I entreated you to depart, and do not reproach me."

"That I shall never do," she answered, smiling, and coming to the old
man kissed him tenderly.

So they abode on in Tyre, and a week later the storm burst.

For many days it had not been safe for Jews to show themselves in the
streets of the city, since several who crept out about their business,
or to fetch water or provisions, had been set upon and beaten to death
by the mob, stirred up to the work by Roman emissaries. This time Benoni
had employed in putting his house, which was part of an ancient fortress
that had stood many a siege, into a state of defence, and in supplying
it with an ample store of victuals. Also he sent messengers to Caleb,
who was said to be in command of the Jewish force at Joppa, telling him
of their peril. Because it was so strong many of the principal Jews in
Tyre, to the number of over a hundred indeed, had flocked into Benoni's
palace-fortress, together with their wives and children, since there
was no other place in their power in the town which could be so easily
defended. Lastly, in the outer courts and galleries were stationed fifty
or more faithful servants and slaves who understood the use of arms.

Thus things remained, the Syrians threatening them through the gates or
from the windows of high houses, and no more, till one night Miriam was
awakened by a dreadful sound of screaming. She sprang from her bed and
instantly Nehushta was at her side.

"What happens?" she gasped as she dressed herself hastily.

"Those Syrian dogs attack the Jews," answered Nehushta, "on the mainland
and in the lower city. Come to the roof, whence we can see what passes,"
and hand in hand they ran to the sea-portico and up its steep steps.

The dawn was just breaking, but looking from the walled roof they had
no need of its light, since everywhere in the dim city below and in
Pal�tyrus on the mainland, houses flared like gigantic torches. In their
red glare they could see the thousands of the attackers dragging out
their inmates to death, or thrusting them back into the flames, while
the night was made horrible with the shouts of the maddened mob, the
cries of the victims and the crackling roar of burning houses.

"Oh! Christ have mercy on them," sobbed Miriam.

"Why should He?" asked Nehushta. "They slew Him and rejected Him;
now they pay the price He prophesied. May He have mercy on us, His
servants."

"He would not have spoken thus," said Miriam indignantly.

"Nay, but justice speaks. Those who take the sword shall perish by the
sword. Even so have these Jews done to the Greeks and Syrians in many of
the cities--they who are blind and mad. Now it is their hour, and mayhap
ours. Come, lady, these are no sights for you, though you might do well
to learn to bear them, since if you escape you may see many such.
Come, and if you wish we will pray for these Jews, especially for their
children, who are innocent, and for ourselves."

That day at noon, most of the poorer and least protected Jews of
the city having been killed, the Syrians began their attack upon the
fortified palace of Benoni. Now it was that the defenders learned that
they had to deal with no mere rabble, but with savage hordes, many
thousands strong, directed by officers skilled in war. Indeed these men
might be seen moving among them, and from their armour and appearance
it was easy to guess that they were Romans. This, in fact, was the case,
since Gessius Florus, the wicked, and after him other officers, made it
part of their policy to send Romans to stir up the Syrians against the
Jews and to assist them in their slaughter.

First an attack was made upon the main gates, but when it was found that
these were too strong to be taken easily, the assailants retreated with
a loss of a score of men shot by the defenders from the wall. Then other
tactics were adopted, for the Syrians, possessing themselves of the
neighbouring houses, began to gall the garrison with arrows from the
windows. Thus they drove them under cover, but did little more, since
the palace was all of marble with cemented roofs, and could not be fired
with the burning shafts they sent down upon it.

So the first day passed, and during the night no attack was made upon
them. When dawn came they learned the reason, for there opposite to
the gates was reared a great battering-ram; moreover, out at sea a huge
galley was being rowed in as close to their walls as the depth of water
would allow, that from her decks the sailors might hurl stones and siege
arrows by means of catapults and thus break down their defences and
destroy them.

Then it was that the real fight began. The Jews posted on the roof
of the house poured arrows on the men who strove to work the ram, and
killed many of them, till they were able to push the instrument so close
that it could no longer be commanded. Now it got to work and with three
blows of the great baulk of timber, of which the ram was fashioned,
burst in the gates. Thereon the defenders, headed by old Benoni himself,
rushed out and put those who served it to the sword; then before
they could be overcome, retreated across the ditch to the inner wall,
breaking down the wooden bridge behind them. Now, since the ram was
of no further use, as it could not be dragged through the ditch, the
galley, that was anchored within a hundred paces, began to hurl huge
stones and arrows at them, knocking down the walls and killing several,
including two women and three children.

Thus matters went on till noon, the besiegers galling them with their
arrows from the land side and the galley battering them from the sea,
while they could do little or nothing in return, having no engines.
Benoni called a council and set out the case, which was desperate
enough. It was evident, he said, that they could not hold out another
day, since at nightfall the Syrians would cross the narrow protecting
ditch and set up a battering-ram against the inner wall. Therefore,
they must do one of two things--sally out and attempt to cut their way
through and gain open country, or fight on and at the last kill the
women and children and rush out, those that were left of them, to be
hacked down by the besieging thousands. As the first plan gave no hope,
since, cumbered as they were with helpless people, they could not expect
to escape the city, in their despair they decided on the second. All
must die, therefore they would perish by each other's hands. When this
decision was known, a wail went up from the women and the children began
to scream with fright, those of them who were old enough to understand
their doom.

Nehushta caught Miriam by the arm.

"Come to the highest roof," she said; "it is safe from the stones and
arrows, and thence, if need be, we can hurl ourselves into the water and
die an easy death."

So they went and crouched there, praying, for their case was desperate.
Suddenly Nehushta touched Miriam and pointed to the sea. She looked and
saw another galley approaching fast as oars and sails could bring her.

"What of it?" she asked heavily. "It will but hasten the end."

"Nay," replied Nehushta, "this ship is Jewish; she does not fly the
Eagles, or a Ph�nician banner. Behold! the Syrian vessel is getting up
her anchors and preparing for fight."

It was true enough, for now the oars of the Syrian shot out and she
forged ahead towards the newcomer. But just then the current caught
her, laying her broadside on, whereon the Jewish ship, driven by the
following wind, shifted her helm and, amidst a mighty shouting from sea
and shore, drove down upon her, striking her amidships with its beak so
that she heeled over. Then there was more tumult, and Miriam closed her
eyes to shut out the horrid sight.

When she opened them again the Syrian galley had vanished, only the
water was spotted with black dots which were the heads of men.

"Gallantly done!" screamed Nehushta. "See, she anchors and puts out her
boats; they will save us yet. Down to the water-gate!"

On their way they met Benoni coming to seek them, and with him won the
steps which were already crowded with fugitives. The two boats of the
galley drew near and in the bow of the first of them stood a tall and
noble-looking figure.

"It is Caleb," said Miriam, "Caleb who has come to save us."

Caleb it was indeed. At a distance of ten paces from the steps he halted
his boat and called aloud:

"Benoni, Lady Miriam and Nehushta, if you still live, stand forward."

They stood forward.

"Now wade into the sea," he cried again, and they waded out until
the water reached their armpits, when they were seized one by one and
dragged into the boat. Many followed them and were also dragged in,
until that boat and the other were quite full, whereon they turned and
were rowed to the galley. Having embarked them, the two boats went
back and again were filled with fugitives, for the most part women and
children.

Again they went, but as they laded for the third time, the ends of
ladders appeared above the encircling walls of the steps, and Syrians
could be seen rushing out upon the portico, whence they began to lower
themselves with ropes. The end of that scene was dreadful. The boats
were full, till the water indeed began to overflow their gunwales,
but many still remained upon the steps or rushed into the water,
women screaming and holding their children above their heads, and men
thrusting them aside in the mad rush for life. The boats rowed off, some
who could swim following them. For the rest, their end was the sword. In
all, seventy souls were rescued.

Miriam flung herself downwards upon the deck of the galley and burst
into tears, crying out:

"Oh! save them! Can no one save them?" while Benoni seated at her side,
the water running from his blood-stained garment, moaned:

"My house sacked; my wealth taken; my people slain by the Gentiles!"

"Thank God Who has saved us," broke in old Nehushta, "God and Caleb; and
as for you, master, blame yourself. Did not we Christians warn you of
what was to come? Well, as it has been in the beginning, so it shall be
in the end."

Just then Caleb appeared before them, proud and flushed with triumph,
as he well might be who had done great things and saved Miriam from the
sword. Benoni rose and, casting his arms about his neck, embraced him.

"Behold your deliverer!" he said to Miriam, and stooping down, he drew
her to her feet.

"I thank you, Caleb. I can say no more," she murmured; but in her
heart she knew that God had delivered her and that Caleb was but His
instrument.

"I am well repaid," answered Caleb gravely. "For me this has been a
fortunate day, who on it have sunk the great Syrian galley and rescued
the woman--whom I love."

"Oath or no oath," broke in Benoni, bethinking him of what he had
promised in the past, "the life you saved is yours, and if I have my way
you shall take her and such of her heritage as remains."

"Is this a time to speak of such things?" said Miriam, looking up. "See
yonder," and she pointed to the scene in progress on the seashore. "They
drive our friends and servants into the sea and drown them," and once
more she began to weep.

Caleb sighed. "Cease from useless tears, Miriam. We have done our best
and it is the fortune of war. I dare not send out the boats again even
if the mariners would listen to my command. Nehushta, lead your lady to
the cabin and strip her of these wet garments lest she take cold in this
bitter wind. But first, Benoni, what is your mind?"

"To go to my cousin Mathias, the high priest at Jerusalem," answered the
old man, "who has promised to give me shelter if in these days any can
be found."

"Nay," broke in Nehushta, "sail for Egypt."

"Where also they massacre the Jews by thousands till the streets of
Alexandria run with their blood," replied Caleb with sarcasm; adding,
"Well, to Egypt I cannot take you who must bring this ship to those who
await her on this side of Joppa, whence I am summoned to Jerusalem."

"Whither and nowhere else I will go," said Benoni, "to share in my
nation's death or triumph. If Miriam wills it, I have told her she can
leave me."

"What I have said before I say again," replied Miriam, "that I will
never do."

Then Nehushta took her to the cabin, and presently the oars began to
beat and the great galley stood out of the harbour, till in the silence
of the sea the screams of the victims and the shouts of the victors died
away, and as night fell naught could be seen of Tyre but the flare from
the burning houses of the slaughtered Jews.

Save for the sobs and cries of the fugitives who had lost their friends
and goods the night passed in quiet, since, although it was winter, the
sea was calm and none pursued their ship. At daybreak she anchored,
and coming from the cabin with Nehushta, in the light of the rising sun
Miriam saw before her a ridge of rocks over which the water poured, and
beyond it a little bay backed by a desolate coast. Nehushta also saw and
sighed.

"What is this place?" asked Miriam.

"Lady, it is the spot where you were born. On yonder flat rock lay
the vessel, and there I burned her many years ago. See those blackened
timbers half buried in the sand upon the beach; doubtless they are her
ribs."

"It is strange that I should return hither, and thus, Nou," said Miriam
sighing.

"Strange, indeed, but mayhap there is a meaning in it. Before you came
in storm to grow to womanhood in peace; now, perchance, you come on a
peaceful sea to pass through womanhood in storm."

"Both journeys began with death, Nou."

"As all journeys end. Blackness behind and blackness in front, and
between them a space of sunshine and shadow--that is the law. Yet have
no fear, for dead Anna, who had the gift of prophecy, foretold that you
should live out your life, though with me, whose days are almost done,
it may be otherwise."

Miriam's face grew troubled.

"I fear neither life nor death, Nou, who am willing to meet either as
may chance. But to part with you--ah! that thought makes me fear."

"I think that it will not be yet awhile," said Nehushta, "for although
I am old, I still have work to do before I lay me down and sleep. Come,
Caleb calls us. We are to disembark while the weather holds."

So Miriam entered the boat with her grandfather and others who had
escaped, for the faces of all of them were set towards Jerusalem, and
was rowed to the shore over that very rock where first she drew her
breath. Here they found Jews who had been watching for the coming of the
galley. These men gave them a kind reception, and, what they needed even
more, food, fire and some beasts of burden for their journey.

When all were gathered on the beach Caleb joined them, having handed
over the galley to another Jew, who was to depart in her with those
that waited on the shore, upon some secret mission of intercepting Roman
corn-ships. When these men heard what he had done at Tyre, at first they
were inclined to be angry, since they said that he had no authority to
risk the vessel thus, but afterwards, seeing that he had succeeded, and
with no loss of men, praised him and said that it was a very great deed.

So the galley put about and sailed away, and they, to the number of some
sixty souls, began their journey to Jerusalem. A little while later they
came to a village, the same where Nehushta had found the peasant and his
wife, whose inhabitants, at the sight of them, fled, thinking that they
were one of the companies of robbers that hunted the land in packs,
like wolves, plundering or murdering all they met. When they learnt the
truth, however, these people returned and heard their story in silence,
for in those days such tales were common enough. As it came to an end
a withered, sunburned woman advanced to Nehushta, and, laying one hand
upon her arm, pointed with the other at Miriam, saying:

"Tell me, friend, is that the babe I suckled?"

Then Nehushta, knowing her to be the nurse who had travelled with
them to the village of the Essenes, greeted her, and answered "Yea,"
whereupon the woman cast her arms about Miriam and embraced her.

"Day by day," she said, "have I thought of you, little one, and now
that my eyes have seen you grown so sweet and fair, I care not--I whose
husband is dead and who have no children--how soon they close upon the
world." Then she blessed her, and called upon her angel to protect her
yonder in Jerusalem, and found her food and an ass to ride; and so they
parted, to meet no more.

As it happened, they were fortunate upon that journey, since, with the
armed guard of twenty men who accompanied Caleb, they were too strong a
party to be attacked by the wandering bands of thieves, and, although
it was reported that Titus and his army had already reached C�sarea from
Egypt, they met no Romans. Indeed, their only enemy was the cold, which
proved so bitter that when, on the second night, they camped upon the
heights over against Jerusalem, having no tents and fearing to light
fires, they were obliged to walk about till daylight to keep their blood
astir. Then it was that they saw strange and terrible things.

In the clear sky over Jerusalem blazed a great comet, in appearance like
a sword of fire. It was true that they had seen it before at Tyre, but
never before had it shown so bright. Moreover, there it had not the
appearance of a sword. This they thought to be an ill omen, all of them
except Benoni, who said that the point of the sword stretched out over
C�sarea, presaging the destruction of the Romans by the hand of God.
Towards dawn, the pale, unnatural lustre of the comet faded, and the
sky grew overcast and stormy. At length the sun came up, when, to their
marvelling eyes, the fiery clouds took strange shapes.

"Look, look!" said Miriam, grasping her grandfather by the arm, "there
are armies in the heavens, and they fight together."

They looked, and, sure enough, it seemed as though two great hosts
were there embattled. They could discern the legions, the wind-blown
standards, the charging chariots, and the squadrons of impetuous horse.
The firmament had become a battle-ground, and lo! it was red as with
the blood of the fallen, while the air was full of strange and dreadful
sounds, bred, perhaps, of wind and distant thunder, that came to them
like the wail of the vanquished and the dull roar of triumphant armies.
So terrified were they at the sight, that they crouched upon the ground
and hid their faces in their hands. Only old Benoni standing up, his
white beard and robes stained red by the ominous light, cried out that
this celestial scene foretold the destruction of the enemies of God.

"Ay!" said Nehushta, "but which enemies?"

The tall Caleb, marching on his round of the camp, echoed:

"Yes, which enemies?"

Suddenly the light grew, all these fantastic shapes melted into a red
haze, which sank down till Jerusalem before them seemed as though she
floated in an ocean of blood and fire. Then a dark cloud came up and for
a while the holy Hill of Zion vanished utterly away. It passed, the blue
sky reappeared, and lo! the clear light streamed upon her marble palaces
and clustered houses, and was reflected from the golden roofs of the
Temple. So calm and peaceful did the glorious city look that none would
have deemed indeed that she was already nothing but a slaughter-house,
where factions fought furiously, and day by day hundreds of Jews
perished beneath the knives of their own brethren.

Caleb gave the word to break their camp, and with bodies shivering in
the cold and spirits terrified by fear, they marched across the rugged
hills towards the Joppa gate, noting as they passed into the valley
that the country had been desolated, for but little corn sprang in the
fields, and that was trodden down, while of flocks and herds they saw
none. Reaching the gate they found it shut, and there were challenged by
soldiers, wild-looking men with ferocious faces of the army of Simon of
Gerasa that held the Lower City.

"Who are you and what is your business?" these asked.

Caleb set out his rank and titles, and as these did not seem to satisfy
them Benoni explained that the rest of them were fugitives from Tyre,
where there had been a great slaughter of the Jews.

"Fugitives always have money; best kill them," said the captain of the
gate. "Doubtless they are traitors and deserve to die."

Caleb grew angry and commanded them to open, asking by what right they
dared to exclude him, a high officer who had done great service in the
wars.

"By the right of the strong," they answered. "Those who let in Simon
have to deal with Simon. If you are of the party of John or of Eleazer
go to the Temple and knock upon its doors," and they pointed mockingly
to the gleaming gates above.

"Has it come to this, then," asked Benoni, "that Jew eats Jew in
Jerusalem, while the Roman wolves raven round the walls? Man, we are
of no party, although, as I think, my name is known and honoured by all
parties--the name of Benoni of Tyre. I demand to be led, not to Simon,
or to John, or to Eleazer, but to my cousin, Mathias, the high priest,
who bids us here."

"Mathias, the high priest," said the captain; "that is another matter.
Well, this Mathias let us into the city, where we have found good
quarters, and good plunder; so as one turn deserves another, we may as
well let in his friends. Pass, cousin of Mathias the high priest, with
all your company," and he opened the gate.

They entered and marched up the narrow streets towards the Temple. It
was the hour of the day when all men should be stirring and busy with
their work, but lo! the place was desolate--yes, although so crowded, it
still was desolate. On the pavement lay bodies of men and women slain
in some midnight outrage. From behind the lattices of the windows they
caught sight of the eyes of hundreds peeping at them, but none gave them
a good-morrow, or said one single word. The silence of death seemed to
brood upon the empty thoroughfares. Presently it was broken by a single
wailing voice that reached their ears from so far away that they could
not catch its meaning. Nearer and nearer it came, till at length in
the dark and narrow street they caught sight of a thin, white-bearded
figure, naked to the waist as though to show the hideous scars and
rod-weals with which its back and breast were scored, still festering,
some of them. This was the man who uttered the cries, and these were the
words he spoke:

"A voice from the East! a voice from the West! a voice from the four
Winds! a voice against Jerusalem and against the Temple! a voice against
the bridegrooms and the brides! a voice against the whole people! Woe,
woe to Jerusalem!"

Now he was upon them, yes, and marching through them as though he saw
them not, although they shrank to one side and the other of the narrow
street to avoid the touch of this ominous, unclean creature who scarcely
seemed to be a man.

"Fellow, what do these words mean?" cried Benoni in angry fear. But,
taking no heed, his pale eyes fixed upon the heavens, the wanderer
answered only, "Woe, woe to Jerusalem! Woe to you who come up to
Jerusalem!"

So he passed on, still uttering those awful words, till at length they
lost sight of his naked form and the sound of his crying grew faint and
died away.

"What a fearful greeting is this!" said Miriam, wringing her hands.

"Ay!" answered Nehushta, "but the farewell will be worse. The place is
doomed and all in it."

Only Caleb said, striving to look unconcerned:

"Have no fear, Miriam. I know the man. He is mad."

"Where does wisdom end and madness begin?" asked Nehushta.

Then they went on towards the gates of the Temple, always through the
same blood-stained, empty streets.

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