Pearl-Maiden: A Tale of the Fall of Jerusalem

  CHAPTER XIX

  PEARL-MAIDEN

  Many days had gone by, but still the fighting was not ended, for theJews continued to hold the Upper City. As it chanced, however, in one ofthe assaults upon it that officer who had rescued Miriam was badly hurtby a spear-thrust in the leg, so that he could be of no more servicein this war. Therefore, because he was a man whom Titus trusted, he wasordered to sail with others of the sick for Rome, taking in his chargemuch of the treasure that had been captured, and for this purposetravelled down to Tyre, whence his vessel was to put to sea. Inobedience to the command of Caesar he had carried the captive Miriam tothe camp of his legion upon the Mount of Olives, and there placed herin a tent, where an old slave-woman tended her. For a while it was notcertain whether she should live or die, for her sufferings and all thatshe had seen brought her so near to death that it was hard to keep herfrom passing its half-opened gates. Still, with good food and care, thestrength came back to her body. But in mind Miriam remained sick, sinceduring all these weeks she wandered in her talk, so that no word ofreason passed her lips.

  Now, many would have wearied of her and thrust her out to take herchance with hundreds of other poor creatures who roamed about the landuntil they perished or were enslaved of Arabs. But this Roman did notact thus; in truth, as he had promised it should be, had she been hisdaughter, Miriam would not have been better tended. Whenever his dutiesgave him time he would sit with her, trying to beguile her madness, andafter he himself was wounded, from morning to night they were together,till at length the poor girl grew to love him in a crazy fashion, andwould throw her arms about his neck and call him "uncle," as in theold days she had named the Essenes. Moreover, she learned to know thesoldiers of that legion, who became fond of her and would bring herofferings of fruit and winter flowers, or of aught else that theythought would please her. So when the captain received his orders toproceed to Tyre with the treasure and take ship there, he and his guardtook Miriam with them, and journeying easily, reached the city on theeighth day.

  As it chanced their ship was not ready, so they camped on the outskirtsof Paleotyrus, and by a strange accident in that very garden which hadbeen the property of Benoni. This place they reached after sunset oneevening and set up their tents, that of Miriam and the old slave-womanbeing placed on the seashore next to the tent of her protector. Thisnight she slept well, and being awakened at the dawn by the murmur ofthe sea among the rocks, went to the door of the tent and looked out.All the camp was sleeping, for here they had no enemy to fear, and agreat calm lay upon the sea and land. Presently the mist lifted andthe rays of the rising sun poured across the blue ocean and its gray,bordering coast.

  With that returning light, as it happened, the light returned also intoMiriam's darkened mind. She became aware that this scene was familiar;she recognised the outlines of the proud and ancient island town. More,she remembered that garden; yes, there assuredly was the palm-treebeneath which she had often sat, and there the rock, under whose shadowgrew white lilies, where she had rested with Nehushta when the Romancaptain brought her the letter and the gifts from Marcus. InstinctivelyMiriam put her hand to her neck. About it still hung the collar ofpearls, and on the pearls the ring which the slave-woman had found inher hair and tied there for safety. She took off the ring and placed itback upon her finger. Then she walked to the rock, sat down and triedto think. But for this, as yet her mind was not strong enough, for thererose up in it vision after vision of blood and fire, which crushed andoverwhelmed her. All that went before the siege was clear, the rest onered confusion.

  While she sat thus the Roman captain hobbled from his pavilion, restingon a crutch, for his leg was still lame and shrivelled. First he went toMiriam's tent to inquire after her of the old woman, as was his customat the daybreak, then, learning that she had gone out of it, lookedround for her. Presently he perceived her sitting in the shade of therock gazing at the sea, and followed to join her.

  "Good morning to you, daughter," he said. "How have you slept after yourlong journey?" and paused, expecting to be answered with some babbling,gentle nonsense such as flowed from Miriam's lips in her illness. Butinstead of this she rose and stood before him looking confused. Then shereplied:

  "Sir, I thank you, I have slept well; but tell me, is not yonder townTyre, and is not this the garden of my grandfather, Benoni, where I usedto wander? Nay, how can it be? So long has passed since I walked inthis garden, and so many things have happened--terrible, terrible thingswhich I cannot remember," and she hid her eyes in her hand and moaned.

  "Don't try to remember them," he said cheerfully. "There is so much inlife that it is better to forget. Yes, this is Tyre, sure enough. Youcould not recognise it last night because it was too dark, and thisgarden, I am told, did belong to Benoni. Who it belongs to now I do notknow. To you, I suppose, and through you to Caesar."

  Now while he spoke thus somewhat at random, for he was watching herall the while, Miriam kept her eyes fixed upon his face, as though shesearched there for something which she could but half recall. Suddenlyan inspiration entered into them and she said:

  "Now I have it! You are the Roman captain, Gallus, who brought me theletter from----" and she paused, thrusting her hand into the bosom ofher robe, then went on with something like a sob: "Oh! it is gone. Howdid it go? Let me think."

  "Don't think," said Gallus; "there are so many things in the world whichit is better not to think about. Yes, as it happens, I am that man,and some years ago I did bring you the letter from Marcus, called TheFortunate. Also, as it chanced, I never forgot your sweet face and knewit again at a time when it was well that you should find a friend. No,we won't talk about it now. Look, the old slave calls you. It is timethat you should break your fast, and I also must eat and have my wounddressed. Afterwards we will talk."

  All that morning Miriam saw nothing more of Gallus. Indeed, he did notmean that she should, since he was sure that her new-found sense oughtnot to be overstrained at first, lest it should break down again, neverto recover. So she went out and sat alone by the garden beach, for thesoldiers had orders to respect her privacy, and gazed at the sea.

  As she sat thus in quiet, event by event the terrible past came back toher. She remembered it all now--their flight from Tyre; the march intoJerusalem; the sojourn in the dark with the Essenes; the Old Tower andwhat befell there; the escape of Marcus; her trial before the Sanhedrim;the execution of her sentence upon the gateway; and then that fearfulnight when the flames of the burning Temple scorched to her very brain,and the sights and sounds of slaughter withered her heart. After thisshe could recall but one more thing--the vision of the majestic figureof Benoni standing against a background of black smoke upon the loftycloister-roof and defying the Romans before he plunged headlong in theflames beneath. Of her rescue on the roof of the Gate Nicanor, of herbeing carried before Titus Caesar in the arms of Gallus, and of hisjudgment concerning her she recollected nothing. Nor, indeed, did sheever attain to a clear memory of those events, while the time betweenthem and the recovery of her reason by the seashore in the garden atTyre always remained a blank. That troubled fragment of her life wassunk in a black sea of oblivion.

  At length the old woman came to summon Miriam to her midday meal, andled her, not to her own tent, but to that which was pitched to serve asan eating-place for the captain, Gallus. As she went she saw knots ofsoldiers gathered across her path as though to intercept her, and turnedto fly, for the sight of them brought back the terrors of the siege.

  "Have no fear of them," said the old woman, smiling. "Ill would it gohere with him who dared to lift a finger against their Pearl-Maiden."

  "Pearl-Maiden! Why?" asked Miriam.

  "That is what they call you, because of the necklace that was upon yourbreast when you were captured, which you wear still. As for why--well,I suppose because they love you, the poor sick thing they nursed. Theyhave heard that you are better and gather to give you joy of it; that isall."

  Sure enough, the words were true
, for, as Miriam approached, theserough legionaries cheered and clapped their hands, while one of them anevil-looking fellow with a broken nose, who was said to have committedgreat cruelties during the siege, came forward bowing and presented herwith a handful of wild-flowers, which he must have collected with sometrouble, since, at this season of the year they were not common. Shetook them, and being still weak, burst into tears.

  "Why should you treat me thus," she asked, "who am, as I understand, buta poor captive?"

  "Nay, nay," answered a sergeant, with an uncouth oath. "It is we who areyour captives, Pearl-Maiden, and we are glad, because your mind has cometo you, though, seeing how sweet you were without it, we do not knowthat it can better you very much."

  "Oh! friends, friends," began Miriam, then once more broke down.

  Meanwhile, hearing the disturbance Gallus had come from his tent and washobbling towards them, when suddenly he caught sight of the tears uponMiriam's face and broke out into such language as could only be used bya Roman officer of experience.

  "What have you been doing to her, you cowardly hounds?" he shouted. "ByCaesar and the Standards, if one of you has even said a word that sheshould not hear, he shall be flogged until the bones break through hisskin," and his very beard bristling with wrath, Gallus uttered aseries of the most fearful maledictions upon the head of that supposedoffender, his female ancestry, and his descendants.

  "Your pardon, captain," said the sergeant, "but _you_ are uttering manywords that no maiden should hear."

  "Do you dare to argue with me, you foul-tongued camp scavenger?" shoutedGallus. "Here, guard, lash him to that tree! Fear not, daughter; theinsult shall be avenged; we shall teach his dirty tongue to sing anothertune," and again he cursed him, naming him by new names.

  "Oh! sir, sir," broke in Miriam, "what are you about to do? This manoffered me no insult, none of them offered me anything except kind wordsand flowers."

  "Then how is it that you weep?" asked Gallus suspiciously.

  "I wept, being still weak, because they who are conquerors were so kindto one who is a slave and an outcast."

  "Oh!" said Gallus. "Well, guard, you need not tie him up this time, butafter all I take back nothing that I have said, seeing that in this wayor in that they did make you weep. What business had they to insult youwith their kindness? Men, henceforth you will be so good as to rememberthat this maiden is the property of Titus Caesar, and after Caesar, ofmyself, in whose charge he placed her. If you have any offerings to maketo her, and I do not dissuade you from that practice, they must be madethrough me. Meanwhile, there is a cask of wine, that good old stuff fromthe Lebanon which I had bought for the voyage. If you should wish todrink the health of our--our captive, it is at your service."

  Then taking Miriam by the hand he led her into the eating-tent, stillgrumbling at the soldiers, who for their part laughed and sent for thewine. They knew their captain's temper, who had served with them throughmany a fight, and knew also that this crazed Pearl-Maiden whom he savedhad twined herself into his heart, as was her fortune with most men ofthose among whom from time to time fate drove her to seek shelter.

  In the tent Miriam found two places set, one for herself and one for thecaptain Gallus.

  "Don't talk to me," he said, "but sit down and eat, for little enoughyou have swallowed all the time you were sick, and we sail to-morrowevening at the latest, after which, unless you differ from most women,little enough will you swallow on these winter seas until it pleaseswhatever god we worship to bring us to the coasts of Italy. Now here areoysters brought by runner from Sidon, and I command that you eat six ofthem before you say a word."

  So Miriam ate the oysters obediently, and after the oysters, fish,and after the fish the breast of a woodcock. But from the autumn lamb,roasted whole, which followed, she was forced to turn.

  "Send it out to the soldiers," she suggested, and it was sent as hergift.

  "Now, my captive," said Gallus, drawing his stool near to her, "I wantyou to tell me what you can remember of your story. Ah! you don't knowthat for many days past we have dined together and that it had been yourfashion to sit with your arm round my old neck and call me your uncle.Nay, child, you need not blush, for I am more than old enough to be yourfather, let alone your uncle, and nothing but a father shall I ever beto you."

  "Why are you so good to me?" asked Miriam.

  "Why? Oh! for several reasons. First, you were the friend of a comradeof mine who often talked of you, but who now is dead. Secondly, youwere a sick and helpless thing whom I chanced to rescue in the greatslaughter, and who ever since has been my companion; and thirdly--yes,I will say it, though I do not love to talk of that matter, I had adaughter, who died, and who, had she lived, would have been of aboutyour age. Your eyes remind me of hers--there, is that not enough?

  "But now for the story. Stay. I will tell you what I know of it. Marcus,he whom they called The Fortunate, but whose fortune has deserted him,was in love with you--like the rest of us. Often he talked to me of youin Rome, where we were friends after a fashion, though he was set farabove me, and by me sent to you that letter which I delivered here inthis garden, and the trinket that you wear about your neck, and if Iremember right, with it a ring--yes, it is upon your finger. Well, Itook note of you at the time and went my way to the war, and when Ichanced to find you lately upon the top of the Gate Nicanor, althoughyou were more like a half-burnt cinder than a fair maiden, I knew youagain and carried you off to Caesar, who named you his slave and bade metake charge of you and deliver you to him in Rome. Now I want to knowhow you came to be upon that gateway."

  So Miriam began and told him all her tale, while he listened patiently.When she had done he rose and, limping round the little table, bent overand kissed her solemnly upon the brow.

  "By all the gods of the Romans, Greeks, Christians, Jews, and barbariannations, you are a noble-hearted woman," he said, "and that kiss ismy tribute to you. Little wonder that puppy, Marcus, is called TheFortunate, since, even when he deserved to die who suffered himself tobe taken alive, you appeared to save him--to save him, by Venus, at thecost of your own sweet self. Well, most noble traitress, what now?"

  "I ask that question of you, Gallus. What now? Marcus, whom you shouldcall no ill name, and who was overwhelmed through no fault of his own,fighting like a hero, has vanished----"

  "Across the Styx, I fear me. Indeed that would be best for him, since noRoman must be taken prisoner and live."

  "Nay, I think not, or at the least I hope he lives. My servant,Nehushta, would nurse him for my sake, and for my sake the Essenes,among whom I dwelt, would guard him, even to the loss of their ownlives. Unless his wound killed him I believe that Marcus is aliveto-day."

  "And if that is so you wish to communicate with him?"

  "What else, Gallus? Say, what fate will befall me when I reach Rome?"

  "You will be kept safe till Titus comes. Then, according to his command,you must walk in his Triumph, and after that, unless he changes hismind, which is not likely, since he prides himself upon never havingreversed a decree, however hastily it was made, or even added to ortaken from a judgment, you must, alas! be set up in the Forum and soldas a slave to the highest bidder."

  "Sold as a slave to the highest bidder!" repeated Miriam faintly. "Thatis a poor fate for a woman, is it not? Had it been that daughter ofyours who died, for instance, you would have thought it a poor fate forher, would you not?"

  "Do not speak of it, do not speak of it," muttered Gallus into hisbeard. "Well, in this, as in other things, let us hope that fortune willfavour you."

  "I should like Marcus to learn that I am to march in the Triumph, andafterwards to be set up in the Forum and sold as a slave to the highestbidder," said Miriam.

  "I should like Marcus to learn--but, in the name of the gods--how is heto learn, if he still lives? Look you, we sail to-morrow night. What doyou wish me to do?"

  "I wish you to send a messenger to Marcus bearing a token from me tohim."

 
"A messenger! What messenger? Who can find him? I can despatch asoldier, but your Marcus is with the Essenes, who for their own sakeswill keep him fast enough as a hostage, if they have cured him. Also theEssenes live, according to your story, in some hyaena-burrow, opening outof an underground quarry in Jerusalem, that is, if they have not beendiscovered and killed long ago. How, then, will any soldier find theirhiding-place?"

  "I do not think that such a man would find it," answered Miriam, "but Ihave friends in this city, and if I could come at them I might discoverone who would meet with better fortune. You know that I am a Christianwho was brought up among the Essenes, both of them persecuted peoplethat have their secrets. If I find a Christian or an Essene he wouldtake my message and--unless he was killed--deliver it."

  Now Gallus thought for a while, then he said, "If I were to go out inTyre asking for Christians or Essenes, none would appear. As well mighta stork go out and call upon a frog. But that old slave-woman, who hastended on me and you, she is cunning in her way, and if I promised toset her at liberty should she succeed, well, perhaps she might succeed.Stay, I will summon her," and he left the tent.

  Some minutes later he returned, bringing the slave with him.

  "I have explained the matter to this woman, Miriam," he said, "and Ithink that she understands, and can prove to any who are willing tovisit you, that they will have a free pass in to and out of the camp,and need fear no harm. Tell her, then, where she is to go and whom shemust seek."

  So Miriam told the woman, saying, "Tell any Essene whom you can findthat she who is called their Queen, bids his presence, and if he asksmore, give him this word--'The sun rises.' Tell any Christian whom youcan find that Miriam, their sister, seeks his aid, and if he asks more,give him this word--'The dawn comes.' Do you understand?"

  "I understand," answered the woman.

  "Then go," said Gallus, "and be back by nightfall, remembering that ifyou fail, in place of liberty you travel to Rome, whence you will returnno more."

  "My lord, I go," answered the woman, beating her forehead with her handand bowing herself from their presence.

  By nightfall she was back again with the tidings that no Christiansseemed to be left in Tyre; all had fled to Pella, or elsewhere. Of theEssenes, however, she had found one, a minor brother of the name ofSamuel, who, on hearing that Miriam was the captive, and receiving thewatchword, said that he would visit the camp after dark, although hegreatly feared that this might be some snare set to catch him.

  After dark he came accordingly, and was led by the old woman, who waitedoutside to meet him, to the tent where Miriam sat with Gallus. ThisSamuel proved to be a brother of the lowest order of the Essenes, whom,although he knew of her, Miriam had never seen. He had been absent fromthe village by the Jordan at the time of the flight of the sect, havingcome to Tyre by leave of the Court to bid farewell to his mother, whowas on her deathbed. Hearing that the brethren had fled, and his motherbeing still alive, he had remained in Tyre instead of seeking to rejointhem at Jerusalem, thus escaping the terrors of the siege. That wasall his story. Now, having buried his mother, he desired to rejoin thebrotherhood, if any of them were left alive.

  After Gallus had left the tent, since it was not lawful that she shouldspeak of their secrets in the presence of any man who was not of theorder, Miriam, having first satisfied herself that he was in trutha brother, told this Samuel all she knew of the hiding-place of theEssenes beyond the ancient quarry, and asked him if he was willing totry to seek it out. He said yes, for he desired to find them; also hewas bound to give her what help he could, since should the brethrendiscover that he had refused it, he would be expelled from their order.Then, having pledged him to be faithful to her trust, not by oath, whichthe Essenes held unlawful, but in accordance with their secret customwhich was known to her, she took from her hand the ring that Marcus hadsent her, bidding him find out the Essenes, and, if their Roman prisonerwas yet alive, and among them, to deliver it to him with a messagetelling him of her fate and whither she had gone. If he was dead, ornot to be found anywhere, then he was to deliver the ring to the Libyanwoman named Nehushta, with the same message. If he could not findher either, then to her uncle Ithiel, or, failing him, to whoever waspresident of the Essenes, with the same message, praying any or all ofthem to succour her in her troubles, should that be possible. At theleast they were to let her have tidings at the house of Gallus, thecaptain, in Rome, where he proposed to place her in charge of his wifeuntil the time came for her to be handed over to Titus and to walk inthe Triumph. Moreover, in case the brother should forget, she wrotea letter that he might deliver to any of those for whom she gave themessage. In this letter Miriam set out briefly all that had befallen hersince that night of parting in the Old Tower, and by the help of Gallus,whom she now recalled to the tent, the particulars of her rescue and ofthe judgment of Caesar upon her person, ending it with these words:

  "If it be the will of God and your will, O you who may read this letter,haste, haste to help me, that I may escape the shame more sore thandeath which awaits me yonder in Rome."

  This letter she signed, "Miriam, of the house of Benoni," but she didnot write upon it the names of those to whom it was addressed, fearinglest it should fall into other hands and bring trouble upon them.

  Then Gallus asked the man Samuel what money he needed for his journeyand as a reward for his service. He answered that it was against hisrule to take any money, who was bound to help those under the protectionof the order without reward or fee, whereat Gallus stared and said thatthere were stranger folk in this land than in any others that he knew,and they were many.

  So Samuel, having bowed before Miriam and pressed her hand in a certainfashion in token of brotherhood and fidelity, was led out of the campagain, nor did she ever see him more. Yet, as it proved, he was afaithful messenger, and she did well to trust him.

  Next day, at the prayer of Miriam, Gallus also wrote a letter, whichgave him much trouble, to a friend of his, who was a brother officerwith the army at Jerusalem, enclosing one to be handed to Marcus if,perchance, he should have rejoined the Standards.

  "Now daughter," he said, "we have done all that can be done, and mustleave the rest to fate."

  "Yes," she answered with a sigh, "we must leave the rest to fate, as youRomans call God."

  In the evening they set sail for Italy, and with them much of thecaptured treasure, many sick and wounded men and a guard of soldiers. Asit chanced, having taken the sea after the autumn gales and before thoseof mid-winter began, they had a swift and prosperous voyage, enduring nohardships save once from want of water. Within thirty days they came toRhegium, whence they marched overland to Rome, being received everywherevery gladly by people who were eager for tidings of the war.