The Coming of the King
B >>
Bernie Babcock >> The Coming of the King
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 |
4 |
5 | 6 |
7 |
8 |
9 |
10 |
11 |
12 |
13 |
14 |
15 |
16 |
17 |
18
Claudia crossed and recrossed the room several times after the slave
spoke these words, the silence unbroken save by the tinkle of her
strings of ornaments. Pausing before him she said, "As the tide is
greater than the storm; as the sun is greater than the wind; as the
mind of man is greater than the sword, so shall there be a kingdom
greater than that of Caesar? Is this what thou sayest?"
"Not I, but the Jew that teacheth in the Temple."
"Hast heard this from his own lips?"
"Thou knowest I have not. Save as the centurion's slave hath spoken
know I nothing."
Claudia bent toward the slave, so near the jewels swinging from her
shoulders lay on his arm, as she whispered, "Wouldst thou hear the Jew?"
"Ah, that I might--that I might," and the sad eyes of the eunuch filled
with tears.
"Thou hast my permission. Nay, even more, it is my command. Go thou
daily to the Temple of the Jews and bring me word."
"Be it permitted a slave of Rome to enter the Temple of the Jews?
Sweet is one scar, but there are no others like it."
"The Tower of Antonio stands guard against the Temple and behind its
frowning walls hides the arm of Rome. Into one court thou art
permitted to go. Here if any say thee nay, reply thou, 'I am the
property of Claudia, wife of Pilate.'"
"Thy kindness doth make my heart glad. With rejoicing will I go and
come again to thee with the wisdom of the Jew."
"Keep thou thy ears open and thy mouth shut. Understandest thou? Go
now. Bring wreaths of flowers. Thy master, Pilate, will soon come
with Roman Senators."
CHAPTER X
I WOULD SEE JESUS
The busy days immediately preceding the Passover had gone, and on the
eve of the New Year the hush of expectancy brooded over Jerusalem. The
family of Lazarus, at the time of the evening meal, awaited the coming
of Joseph of Arimathea who was to spend the night with them and with
Lazarus go to offer his sacrifice on the next day. The rays of the
setting sun shone through the big lattice window and fell across the
table.
"Look at those clouds of flame!" Mary exclaimed. "Lazarus--Joel--hast
thou ever seen aught more gorgeous? In my garden I have a lily red
like the sky. In honor of our guest I shall pluck it."
"Unless he tippeth it over Joseph will not see Mary's red lily," Joel
said as she left the room.
"Where is Mary?" Martha called from the kitchen a moment later.
"Gone to the garden to pluck a red lily," called Joel in answer.
Martha appeared in the doorway. "Already," she complained, "hath she
plucked lilies when she should have been plucking sparrows. Now she is
gone again and preparation there be yet to make before we sup. Mary!
Mary!" she called, turning toward the court door. When her sister
entered a moment later, Martha said, "Thou dost leave me to do much
service. Fix thou the cushions at the head of the table where our
guest of honor will be seated."
"Yea, my sister," Mary answered, as she arranged her choice lily in a
vase and put it near the place of the guest.
"Hurry, Mary," Martha urged. "The sun is down, soon will our guest
appear, and he is rich. Lazarus doth say the richest man in Arimathea."
"Content would I be with half his possessions," observed Joel.
"To-day in the Temple I did see him," Lazarus said. "He too is given
to the wisdom of the Galilean Prophet."
"A member of the Great Sanhedrin taken with strange teachings!" Joel
exclaimed in surprise.
"Elizabeth hath declared him the Messiah," Mary said thoughtfully.
"Women are given to vain words," was Joel's answer. "It is said this
Galilean Prophet is no prophet at all, but the son of a carpenter in a
poverty-ridden fishing town."
Lazarus reflected a moment before saying, "I know not from whence the
King of the Jews shall come to restore again the throne of David, but
if this Jesus is he, and need wealth, mine shall he have."
"Thou wouldst give to him but not to the poor? A great head hast thou
for business, my friend Lazarus!" and Joel laughed.
"Aye, but for the establishment of the Kingdom, what man of Israel
would not give of his riches, even of his life?"
Further conversation was stopped by a knocking at the door. Hastening
to answer it, Lazarus opened to Joseph of Arimathea. He wore the rich
Sanhedrin robe of silk and Egyptian linen heavily embroidered and his
phylacteries were bound on his forehead with wide soft thongs. His
tall and stately bearing, his flowing beard and official dress gave him
dignity that impressed even Eli who rendered him the usual courtesies
with alacrity. "Late I am," he said as the servant unloosed his
sandals, "but the highway is thronged with pilgrims getting in for
to-morrow's celebration."
"Glad we are that of all the guests, thou comest to sup under our roof.
Meat is ready. Come, let us to the table."
With Joseph at the head of the table, Mary by Lazarus and Martha by
Joel, the meal began. Eli passed bowls of water for the washing of
hands. Grace was said and then after a second hand cleansing, wine was
poured and thanks said over the cups, after which came the meat, and as
they ate they talked.
"About the Galilean Prophet were we speaking," Lazarus said.
"The young Rabbi is much in the mouths of both Temple scribes and
pilgrims in the street. Some have praise for his words of wisdom.
Others, stung ofttimes by his rebukes, attack him cunningly. The way
in which he doth answer those who would entangle him doth please me.
To-day in the Temple he was cleverly attacked by some Pharisees who
drew the attention of a crowd by accusing him of having such speech
with a publican and a harlot as the Law doth not allow. With few words
did he tell of a man who had two sons. To the one did he say, 'Son,
wilt thou do a service for thy father?' and the son said, 'Nay.' To
the other, the man did say, 'Son, wilt thou do a service for thy
father?' and the son did answer, 'Yea.' And when came time to take
account of the service, lo, the son that had said, 'Nay' had performed
the service, while he who had said 'Yea' had done no service. This did
the Galilean Prophet tell in the ears of the crowd for the Pharisees
who had accused him. And then did he say to them, 'I say unto thee,
the publicans and harlots shall enter the Kingdom before thou dost!'"
"Ha! ha!" laughed Lazarus with pleasure. "The man pleaseth me. When
hath a Rabbi spoken such wisdom or possessed such powers of
discernment?"
"Are there many in the Sanhedrin who harken to the teachings of this
Jesus?" Joel asked.
"Beside myself none, save Nicodemus who did go to him by night. Aye,
and it was a hard saying the ears of Nicodemus did hear, for when the
Ruler asked what he should do to be saved, the Galilean told him, 'Thou
must be born again.'"
"Born again? A man be born again--and thou dost call such speaking
wisdom?" It was Joel who asked the question.
"The young Rabbi made clear that the birth he teaches is not of flesh,
but entereth in like the blowing of the wind, and hath to do with the
spirit of man."
"Herein is mystery," Lazarus observed with perplexed face. "I
understand not this being born again. Mary, thou dost spend much time
studying the mysteries of life as it doth appear to thee in living
things. Understandest thou how to be born again?"
"I understand not," Mary answered. "Yet the miracle I have seen. Once
did I plant in the soil a root, brown like a dead leaf and wrinkled
like a hag's face. It hath been born again. Lo--here it is," and she
took the red lily from the vase by Joseph's cup. "See its glad color?
Smell its rare fragrance? Here is a miracle, for this that is
beautiful, is only a changed form of that which was uncomely. A
miracle--yet the secret be with Jehovah God. Mayhap the heart of
Nicodemus was brown and wrinkled with much tradition and useless custom
until the words of wisdom Joseph doth speak of, seemed but foolishness.
And lo! A change did come and he findeth Truth in the words of the
Galilean Rabbi. Thus would he be born again. The miracle thou
mightest see, but the manner of its doing is hidden in the heart of
Jehovah."
During Mary's explanation of a miracle the eyes of Joseph had been
drawn to her in surprise and admiration. "Thou hast well spoken," he
said. "Hast thou heard the words of this young Rabbi whose wisdom is
old?"
"Nay, Father Joseph. Yet would I."
"Thou wouldst learn much at his feet."
"But knowest thou not it is forbidden by the Law that a woman be taught
that which the Rabbis would withhold?"
"I forget not. Yet will the Galilean teach thee."
"And glad of a chance, methinks, will he be to break the Law," said
Joel, "for doth he not think himself better than the Law?"
"Say rather 'greater' than the Law," Joseph replied. "As a prop to a
vine, so is the Law to the weak. But as the vine doth grow greater
than the prop, because of what the prop hath been to it, is it able to
stand in its own strength. So there are prophets who have outgrown the
Law. For such, to live within the Law would be putting new wine in old
bottles."
"Much hath been said of this man," Martha observed, "but none hath yet
told of his garments. What sort are they?"
"Ha! ha!" laughed Lazarus. "Martha doth think perchance she may help
Joel sell a new garment."
"Thou dost make merry over a straight question. Doth not the Law teach
that man is the glory of God, and the glory of man is his dress?"
"And methinks thou knoweth also the saying, 'The dress of the wife of a
learned man is of more importance than the life of one ignorant.'
Hear, Joel, thou learned man?"
"Affright not Joel," Martha replied to her brother, "but tell me
whether the _kittuna_ of this Rabbi is wool or flax, or his _tallith_
handsomely embroidered."
"What weareth this man?" Lazarus asked of Joseph.
"Save for the phylacteries, the plain raiment of a Rabbi with the white
and lavender fringes on his _tallith_ as the Law doth command. Yet it
is said he hath appeared in the white of the Essenes."
"What matter the color of his fringes?" Mary asked. "His words would I
hear. Perhaps I should love him even as Lazarus loveth him."
"And thy gentleness, and strange wisdom for a woman, will win for thee
his love, methinks," Joseph answered.
"Mary is not so gentle as thou thinkest," and Martha laughed.
"Elizabeth did visit in the home of Jesus when he was a little lad. Of
all she did tell concerning him, that which did most delight the heart
of Mary was the tale of a bloody nose he did give another lad."
"How went the tale?" and rubbing the beard around a mouth shaped for
laughter, Lazarus awaited a reply.
"He did act," promptly answered Mary, "because a large coward did pluck
the hair of a small child which could do naught but weep. Unafraid
souls my heart loves."
"Ever hath womankind loved bravery," Joseph remarked. "Well, the
Galilean Rabbi is brave, Mary."
"How brave?"
"Brave sufficient to dare the wrath of the High Priest. Is this not
bravery?"
"Rather the act of a fool," Joel answered.
When they had tarried about the table until a late hour, the guests
went to their couches.
"To-morrow is the birthday of Israel," Lazarus said after the door had
closed behind Joel and Joseph. "Now must the house be searched for
leaven that not a speck remain."
Taking up the lamps which were burning low on the table, he fastened
them to long handles. Martha, taking one of them, went to the kitchen,
while Mary and Lazarus made search in the larger room.
"My brother," Mary said when the last cushion had been shaken and the
last corner searched, "on this eve of Israel's birthday I have a
request of thee. Wilt thou be Ahasuerus and hold to me thy golden
scepter?"
"What is the request of thy heart, my sister?"
"My heart is burdened with a desire to meet this unafraid yet tender
and wise man thou dost talk of. I would see Jesus."
"It shall be even so. To our home shall he be bidden. When thou
hearest the silver trumpets blowing in the New Year, remember this is
thy brother's promise, and may joy come to thee with the coming of the
Galilean."
"Thou dost give me joy on this New Year's Eve. A kiss I have for
thee--for pleasant dreams."
"Now am I well paid," laughed Lazarus when his sister kissed him.
"The blessing of God on thee, my brother. Good night."
CHAPTER XI
ON WITH THE DANCE
While Lazarus and Mary were searching the house with their long-handled
lamps that not a speck of leaven should remain to defile the Passover,
a different scene was being enacted in the Palace of Herod for Pilate
and his guests. Earlier in the evening the Procurator had entered his
luxurious apartment and casting aside his purple robe had exclaimed,
"The wrath of Jove on Jerusalem. Save for its size it is not better
than a tomb across Kedron!"
"A tomb?" one of his guests repeated questioningly. "Methinks it is a
mountain of bees swarming and buzzing. Never have I seen such crowds."
"People, yea, _people_. But what are people if they be Jews? The
tombs lack not a plentiful filling of bones and creeping things."
"When thy stomach hath become a tomb for a cup of red wine, then will
Jerusalem be more to thy liking," Claudia said, and turning to the
guest added, "My lord Pilate doth love Rome much when he is in
Jerusalem."
"Yet even Jerusalem doth seem to be getting Romanized, with her
hippodrome and her trophies of Augustan victories. Also, there is a
statue of Caligula, and the golden eagle hangs its wings over the
Temple gate itself, while Antonio commands all."
"Yea," assented Pilate, "there are a few images and theatres, but the
atmosphere is heavy with religion--barbarous superstition, as hath
Cicero said. And fools they are for they worship the unseen. Greeks,
Egyptians, Asiatics, Romans all have gods, but these dish-faced ones
with beards refuse to pay honor to Caesar and scorn the gods."
"True," the guest replied, "but if there were no Jew, the wit of the
theatre would suffer. Doth not the wag ever make merry concerning the
god of the Jew which refuseth to be a god unless an inch of skin be
taken where the eye misseth it not?"
Pilate joined his guests in hearty laughter. "And their ancestral
veneration of the swine, what meaneth it?"
"Perhaps they fear more than venerate the swine."
"Of that I know not, but much fasting doth make them lean enough to
thank the gods for the fat of a swine."
"They are loyal to their god--whatever it is," Claudia said.
"Yea, in dimly lighted synagogues they ever gather, muttering prayers.
Even do they close their shops one day that they may have more time for
more prayers."
"It hath come to my ears that they neither eat nor sleep with
strangers," one of the guests observed.
"In the valley of Gehenna where the stench of their funeral fires doth
ever ascend and the worm ceaseth not to wiggle in corruption, there
would the circumcized rather lie like a dog, than sup with one
uncircumcized. Aye, a dog is the Jew, and a thief."
"Yet have I heard that they contend to the death for their Law. Doth
it not deal with stealing?" Pilate was asked.
"Yea, it dealeth with stealing and for it they contend. Yet they are
thieves beginning with Annas the High Priest. Into the Temple offices
hath he put all his sons and nephews and kinsmen that through them his
itching fingers may possess all the wealth of the Temple. The Law of
the Jews is for others than those who make it, preach it, sell it or
trade in it. Yet for all their sins have these long-faced robbers a
scapegoat. Over his head do they mumble their sins and then frighten
him away to the wilderness. And when he is departed, lo, they are as
innocent as babes new-born. Jove, what fools!"
"Here now are thy spirits coming," Claudia laughed. "Drink thou and
see if thou gettest not out of the tomb."
Servants with viands and wines entered and placed them on tables near
the couches. Pilate poured for the guests and then took his own cup.
"Pilate takes a second cup," said Claudia. "He is moving out of the
tomb."
"Antipas hath not found his Tiberias a tomb yet," Pilate remarked
between cups.
"What hath he done?" a guest asked.
"To a maiden who pleased him with gay dancing gave he the head of a Jew
prophet in a silver platter. Good use for such head."
"In seven veils did she dance," Claudia added.
"On my soul I would have seen the show."
"My lord Pilate emerges from the tomb," and Claudia laughed as he
poured another cup.
"And for a purpose," Pilate answered her. "As Antipas hath taken the
pleasures of Rome to Tiberias, so will Pilate bring Rome to Jerusalem
this night for the pleasure of his guests. Where, Claudia, my love, is
thy maiden whose limbs are like the milky marble Greece boasts and
whose feet fly like the wings of a chased butterfly? Summon thou the
slave. Yet stay--not seven veils shall hide her marble loveliness.
Here," and snatching a wreath of flowers from a pedestal he flung them
to Claudia, "bid her robe her beauteous nakedness in this. Here's to
the dancer whose virgin charms unhidden by such dense and senseless
draperies as veils, shall set our blood racing as blood doth race at
Rome. Bid the slave come!"
"My maiden doth not choose to come clad only in a wreath," and Claudia
tossed the flowers aside.
"Slaves have no choice when masters do the bidding."
"Thy words sound large, yet hath Claudia a choice for her maiden.
Confusion will take the buoyancy from her supple limbs, and so drawn
will her arms be to her face to hide its shame, that the sensuous swing
thou dost desire will be stiff as the scabbard on thy wall. Lest she
be veiled my maiden can not dance to do Rome pleasure."
"A veil! A veil!" shouted Pilate, laughing.
"Give the maiden a veil," the guests added.
"A veil! One veil--_one_ but not _two_, Claudia. One veil!" and again
Pilate laughed loudly.
"A veil. _One_ veil," Claudia repeated, bowing as she left the room.
When she had gone Pilate summoned servants. "Set the palms to make a
garden," he commanded. "Call the torch-bearers and make of them a
flaming pathway. Summon the musicians. Let there be haste!"
In a very short time the palm grove was in order and a blast of music
sounded. Claudia returned smiling, and all eyes turned to the
curtained entrance at the far end of the aisle of palms. The first
glimpse of the little Greek slave was that of a fairy dancing into the
shadowy background. Her white and shapely body sparkled as if powdered
with diamond dust and the veil that floated about her was woven of fine
and shining threads in rainbow tints. For a time she flitted up and
down between the palms and rows of torch-light bearers standing like
purple statues, while Pilate and the guests drank to her grace and
beauty and cheered her skill. At a signal from the Procurator the
dancing stopped. "Thus doth Greece show her grace," he said to his
guests. "Now wouldst thou see Rome dance?"
"Yea--but Rome is not Greece in the art."
"Bid thy eunuch to come," Pilate said, addressing Claudia.
Without asking questions, for Pilate was growing too merry with wine to
answer them, Claudia summoned her slave.
"Come hither, thou scar-ridden eunuch!" Pilate shouted as he entered
the place. "Wrap thy broad back in this wolf hide and take thou a
helmet and spear--so! Now, musicians, pipe thee a tune that will be
wild like the wrath of the gods. No music now to make a butterfly
flit, but thunder for the beast that maketh the earth tremble. Ready!
On with the dance!"
The big slave cast a glance of appeal at his mistress, but she motioned
him to obey. Then the eunuch, wrapped in the great wolf robe, danced,
heavy and without grace.
"Stay!" Pilate called. "Ye gods! Rome was not built to dance. Thy
legs are like tree trunks, thy back like a ship. To gain possession of
Greece, this is Rome's glory. Rome, pursue thou Greece. Tantalize her
as doth a cat torment a mouse. Aye, now, slave girl, take to yonder
forest of palms and elude him who follows, for the wolf of Rome is on
thy track. And thou, oh, Rome, dog thy fair prey, as the sword of
Caesar doth dog that which it would possess. Away to the woods! Fly,
Greece, fly! On with the dance!"
To weird music the girl began an elusive dance in and out among the
palms but ever under the moving glare of a flaming torch. The eunuch,
like some shaggy monster, doggedly followed her. After some minutes of
this dancing-chase, Pilate cried, "This is but play! Rome by the
strength in his arms can pick Greece away from the earth. Come thou,
Rome and Greece, dance _close_! Greece--evade the powerful arm that
seeks to draw thee beneath the wolf's tawny hide! Dance! Dance!
Dance away from Rome! Harder! Faster! Fiercer! He comes nearer!
His hand doth touch thee. Aye--watch! He comes closer. Hear his
heart thump with eagerness to seize thee? Feel his hot breath? He is
about to seize thee! He taketh thee, Greece! Thou art disappearing
under the hide of the wolf!"
As the wild dance neared its end, Pilate became so aroused he rushed
back and forth across the room in imitation of first one dancer then
the other, while his guests roared with laughter. And when the eunuch
seized the slave girl and gathered her under the thick fur, her screams
were those of honest fear for she knew not what might be in store for
her. "Scream--scream again!" shouted Pilate. "I like it. Aye, to the
heart of Rome stifled by the pious air of Jerusalem, screaming is like
new wine! Scream once again!" Again the slave girl's cry was heard
from under the wolf hide. "Thou doest well. Come forth and from the
golden cup of Pontius Pilate, held in his own hand, shalt thou drink.
Aye, thou doest well," he repeated as she came toward him. "To the
heart of Rome screams are dear. Here's to thy screaming, and here's to
Rome forever!" and he lifted the cup.
"Stay thy hand a moment," and Claudia touched the sleeve of Pilate
lightly as she spoke.
"What meanest thou?"
"Drink thou to Rome, my lord--but _not_ Rome _forever_."
"What meanest thou?" he repeated.
"In days long gone before Romulus had found the lair of the she-wolf,
there lived seers who foretold a king whose kingdom would be greater
than that of Caesar."
"Claudia hath been filching cups, methinks," Pilate said, joining in
the laughter of the Senators. "Another king than Caesar? As the
mighty Tiberius would do to a worm that should raise its head from the
dust to sting his heel, so will the mighty Caesar do to him whose voice
be lifted against the empire. My fair Claudia, thy brain is addled.
Here's to thee, my love, here's to our guests, the Senators, and here's
to Rome--_Rome forever_! On with the dance!"
CHAPTER XII
ON THE ROOF
The Day of Atonement had just passed and throughout Palestine great
preparations were being made for the Feast of Tabernacles, for the
harvest yield had been rich. Beginning with the fruits of the oleaster
and white mulberry in the early season, the ingathering of wheat, of
almonds and Beyrout honey, of apples and apricots and corn, of grapes
and of figs, of maize and of pomegranates and dates, of olives and
walnuts, had taken place as the months passed, and now from the
northern bounds of Galilee to the southern edge of Judea and from
Peraea to the sea, pilgrims were ready to set forth with their
first-fruits to be offered in the Temple. The vineyards and olive
orchards of Lazarus had yielded bountifully, and the laborers had been
accounted worthy of their hire and generously paid.
Martha had been busy putting in her store of corn and wine and now,
late on the last day before Atonement was counting her pig skin bottles
while Eli cleaned the ashes from the big earthenware oven. "Hath Mary
carried the last of her boughs to the housetop?" she questioned,
glancing into the court. And without waiting for an answer she
continued, "Such a pile of myrtle and olive and palm branches as hath
not before been used in an arbor hath Mary dragged up the steps, and
made into a bower. Anna doth build her bower in the garden, but not so
my sister who will have hers set where she can sit under its roof of
leaves and look out over the hills where there are a thousand booths.
And with her harp she sings. Listen--but Eli, there is a new skin
bottle missing!" and grave concern was in Martha's voice.
"My beloved is mine and I am his
Until the daybreak and the shadows flee away."
The words floated gently out on the air from the housetop. The voice
was that of Mary.
"Mary--Mary!" called Martha. "A new pig-skin bottle is missing." And
she started toward the stair steps. Hearing no answer she hurried
upward calling, "Mary, Mary, canst thou not hear?"
"Many waters can not quench love.
Neither can the floods drown it,
For love is strong as death--"
Mary sang, lightly touching the strings of her harp as she sat under
her bower of myrtle and palm.
"Mary, a new skin bottle is missing!" the housewife shouted in her
sister's ear, "and the foolishness thou singeth doth make thee deaf."
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 |
4 |
5 | 6 |
7 |
8 |
9 |
10 |
11 |
12 |
13 |
14 |
15 |
16 |
17 |
18