"But he is looking for you. He has come from afar to find you."
"He must not find us. He shall not become what we are. Hear, Amrah.
You shall serve us as you have this day. You shall bring us the little we need--not long now--not long. You shall come every morning and evening thus, and--and"--the voice trembled, the strong will almost broke down--"and you shall tell us of him, Amrah; but to him you shall say nothing of us. Hear you?"
"Oh, it will be so hard to hear him speak of you, and see him going about looking for you--to see all his love, and not tell him so much as that you are alive!"
"Can you tell him we are well, Amrah?"
The servant bowed her head in her arms.
"No," the mistress continued; "wherefore to be silent altogether.
Go now, and come this evening. We will look for you. Till then, farewell."
"The burden will be heavy, O my mistress, and hard to bear,"
said Amrah, falling upon her face.
"How much harder would it be to see him as we are," the mother answered as she gave the basket to Tirzah. "Come again this evening," she repeated, taking up the water, and starting for the tomb.
Amrah waited kneeling until they had disappeared; then she took the road sorrowfully home.
In the evening she returned; and thereafter it became her custom to serve them in the morning and evening, so that they wanted for nothing needful. The tomb, though ever so stony and desolate, was less cheerless than the cell in the Tower had been. Daylight gilded its door, and it was in the beautiful world. Then, one can wait death with so much more faith out under the open sky.
CHAPTER VI
The morning of the first day of the seventh month--Tishri in the Hebrew, October in English--Ben-Hur arose from his couch in the khan ill satisfied with the whole world.
Little time had been lost in consultation upon the arrival of Malluch. The latter began the search at the Tower of Antonia, and began it boldly, by a direct inquiry of the tribune commanding.
He gave the officer a history of the Hurs, and all the particulars of the accident to Gratus, describing the affair as wholly without criminality. The object of the quest now, he said, was if any of the unhappy family were discovered alive to carry a pet.i.tion to the feet of Caesar, praying rest.i.tution of the estate and return to their civil rights. Such a pet.i.tion, he had no doubt, would result in an investigation by the imperial order, a proceeding of which the friends of the family had no fear.
In reply the tribune stated circ.u.mstantially the discovery of the women in the Tower, and permitted a reading of the memorandum he had taken of their account of themselves; when leave to copy it was prayed, he even permitted that.
Malluch thereupon hurried to Ben-Hur.
It were useless to attempt description of the effect the terrible story had upon the young man. The pain was not relieved by tears or pa.s.sionate outcries; it was too deep for any expression. He sat still a long time, with pallid face and laboring heart. Now and then, as if to show the thoughts which were most poignant, he muttered,
"Lepers, lepers! They--my mother and Tirzah--they lepers! How long, how long, O Lord!"
One moment he was torn by a virtuous rage of sorrow, next by a longing for vengeance which, it must be admitted, was scarcely less virtuous.
At length he arose.
"I must look for them. They may be dying."
"Where will you look?" asked Malluch.
"There is but one place for them to go."
Malluch interposed, and finally prevailed so far as to have the management of the further attempt intrusted to him. Together they went to the gate over on the side opposite the Hill of Evil Counsel, immemorially the lepers" begging-ground. There they stayed all day, giving alms, asking for the two women, and offering rich rewards for their discovery. So they did in repet.i.tion day after day through the remainder of the fifth month, and all the sixth.
There was diligent scouring of the dread city on the hill by lepers to whom the rewards offered were mighty incentives, for they were only dead in law. Over and over again the gaping tomb down by the well was invaded, and its tenants subjected to inquiry; but they kept their secret fast. The result was failure. And now, the morning of the first day of the seventh month, the extent of the additional information gained was that not long before two leprous women had been stoned from the Fish Gate by the authorities. A little pressing of the clew, together with some shrewd comparison of dates, led to the sad a.s.surance that the sufferers were the Hurs, and left the old questions darker than ever. Where were they? And what had become of them?
"It was not enough that my people should be made lepers," said the son, over and over again, with what intensity of bitterness the reader may imagine; "that was not enough. Oh no! They must be stoned from their native city! My mother is dead! she has wandered to the wilderness! she is dead! Tirzah is dead! I alone am left. And for what? How long, O G.o.d, thou Lord G.o.d of my fathers, how long shall this Rome endure?"
Angry, hopeless, vengeful, he entered the court of the khan, and found it crowded with people come in during the night. While he ate his breakfast, he listened to some of them. To one party he was specially attracted. They were mostly young, stout, active, hardy men, in manner and speech provincial. In their look, the certain indefinable air, the pose of the head, glance of the eye, there was a spirit which did not, as a rule, belong to the outward seeming of the lower orders of Jerusalem; the spirit thought by some to be a peculiarity of life in mountainous districts, but which may be more surely traced to a life of healthful freedom. In a short time he ascertained they were Galileans, in the city for various purposes, but chiefly to take part in the Feast of Trumpets, set for that day. They became to him at once objects of interest, as hailing from the region in which he hoped to find readiest support in the work he was shortly to set about.
While observing them, his mind running ahead in thought of achievements possible to a legion of such spirits disciplined after the severe Roman style, a man came into the court, his face much flushed, his eyes bright with excitement.
"Why are you here?" he said to the Galileans. "The rabbis and elders are going from the Temple to see Pilate. Come, make haste, and let us go with them."
They surrounded him in a moment.
"To see Pilate! For what?"
"They have discovered a conspiracy. Pilate"s new aqueduct is to be paid for with money of the Temple."
"What, with the sacred treasure?"
They repeated the question to each other with flashing eyes.
"It is Corban--money of G.o.d. Let him touch a shekel of it if he dare!"
"Come," cried the messenger. "The procession is by this time across the bridge. The whole city is pouring after. We may be needed.
Make haste!"
As if the thought and the act were one, there was quick putting away of useless garments, and the party stood forth bareheaded, and in the short sleeveless under-tunics they were used to wearing as reapers in the field and boatmen on the lake--the garb in which they climbed the hills following the herds, and plucked the ripened vintage, careless of the sun. Lingering only to tighten their girdles, they said, "We are ready."
Then Ben-Hur spoke to them.
"Men of Galilee," he said, "I am a son of Judah. Will you take me in your company?"
"We may have to fight," they replied.
"Oh, then, I will not be first to run away!"
They took the retort in good humor, and the messenger said, "You seem stout enough. Come along."
Ben-Hur put off his outer garments.
"You think there may be fighting?" he asked, quietly, as he tightened his girdle.
"Yes."
"With whom?"
"The guard."