CHAPTER XIX.
Two paths led over the mountain from the oasis to the sea; both followeddeep and stony gorges, one of which was named the "short cut," becausethe traveller reached his destination more quickly by that road than byfollowing the better road in the other ravine, which was practicable forbeasts of burden. Half-way up the height the "short cut" opened out ona little plateau, whose western side was shut in by a high mass of rockwith steep and precipitous flanks. At the top of this rock stood a towerbuilt of rough blocks, in which the anchorites were wont to take refugewhen they were threatened with a descent of their foes.
The position of this castle--as the penitents proudly styled theirtower--was well-chosen, for from its summit they commanded not onlythe "short cut" to the oasis, but also the narrow shell-strewn strip ofdesert which divided the western declivity of the Holy Mountain from theshore, the blue-green waters of the sea, and the distant chain of hillson the African coast.
Whatever approached the tower, whether from afar or from theneighborhood, was at once espied by them, and the side of the rock whichwas turned to the roadway was so precipitous and smooth that it remainedinaccessible even to the natives of the desert, who, with their nakedfeet and sinewy arms, could climb points which even the wild goat andthe jackal made a circuit to avoid. It was more accessible from theother side, and in order to secure that, a very strong wall had beenbuilt, which enclosed the level on which the castle stood in the formof a horseshoe, of which the ends abutted on the declivity of the shortroad. This structure was so roughly and inartistically heaped togetherthat it looked as if formed by nature rather than by the hand of man.The rough and unfinished appearance of this wall-like heap of stones washeightened by the quantity of large and small pieces of granite whichwere piled on the top of it, and which had been collected by theanchorites, in case of an incursion, to roll and hurl down on theinvading robbers. A cistern had been dug out of the rocky soil ofthe plateau which the wall enclosed, and care was taken to keep itconstantly filled with water.
Such precautions were absolutely necessary, for the anchorites werethreatened with dangers from two sides. First from the Ishmaelite hordesof Saracens who fell upon them from the east, and secondly from theBlemmyes, the wild inhabitants of the desert country which bordersthe fertile lands of Egypt and Nubia, and particularly of the barrenhighlands that part the Red Sea from the Nile valley; they crossed thesea in light skiffs, and then poured over the mountain like a swarm oflocusts.
The little stores and savings which the defenceless hermits treasuredin their caves had tempted the Blemmyes again and again, in spite of theRoman garrison in Pharan, which usually made its appearance on the sceneof their incursion long after they had disappeared with their scantybooty. Not many months since, the raid had been effected in which oldStephanus had been wounded by an arrow, and there was every reason tohope that the wild marauders would not return very soon, for Phoebicius,the commander of the Roman maniple in the oasis, was swift and vigorousin his office, and though he had not succeeded in protecting theanchorites from all damage, he had followed up the Blemmyes, who fled athis approach, and cut them off from rejoining their boats. A battle tookplace between the barbarians and the Romans, not far from the coast onthe desert tract dividing the hills from the sea, which resulted in thetotal annihilation of the wild tribes and gave ground to hope that sucha lesson might serve as a warning to the sons of the desert. But ifhitherto the more easily quelled promptings of covetousness had ledthem to cross the sea, they were now animated by the most sacred ofall duties, by the law which required them to avenge the blood of theirfathers and brothers, and they dared to plan a fresh incursion in whichthey should put forth all their resources. They were at the same timeobliged to exercise the greatest caution, and collected their forcesof young men in the valleys that lay hidden in the long range ofcoast-hills.
The passage of the narrow arm of the sea that parted them from ArabiaPetraea, was to be effected in the first dark night; the sun, thisevening, had set behind heavy storm-clouds that had dischargedthemselves in violent rain and had obscured the light of the waningmoon. So they drew their boats and rafts down to the sea, and,unobserved by the sentinels on the mountain who had taken shelter fromthe storm under their little penthouses, they would have reached theopposite shore, the mountain, and perhaps even the oasis, if some onehad not warned the anchorites--and that some one was Hermas.
Obedient to the commands of Paulus, the lad had appropriated three ofhis friend's gold pieces, had provided himself with a bow and arrows andsome bread, and then, after muttering a farewell to his father who wasasleep in his cave, he set out for Raithu. Happy in the sense of hisstrength and manhood, proud of the task which had been set him and whichhe deemed worthy of a future soldier, and cheerfully ready to fulfilit even at the cost of his life, he hastened forward in the brightmoonlight. He quitted the path at the spot where, to render the ascentpossible even to the vigorous desert-travellers, it took a zigzag line,and clambered from rock to rock, up and down in a direct line; when hecame to a level spot he flew on as if pursuers were at his heels. Aftersunrise he refreshed himself with a morsel of food, and then hurried onagain, not heeding the heat of noon, nor that of the soft sand in whichhis foot sank as he followed the line of the sea-coast.
Thus passionately hurrying onwards he thought neither of Sirona norof his past life--only of the hills on the farther shore and of theBlemmyes--how he should best surprise them, and, when he had learnttheir plans, how he might recross the sea and return to his own people.At last, as he got more and more weary, as the heat of the sun grewmore oppressive, and as the blood rushed more painfully to his heartand began to throb more rapidly in his temples, he lost all powerof thought, and that which dwelt in his mind was no more than a dumblonging to reach his destination as soon as possible.
It was the third afternoon when he saw from afar the palms of Raithu,and hurried on with revived strength. Before the sun had set he hadinformed the anchorite, to whom Paulus had directed him, that theAlexandrian declined their call, and was minded to remain on the HolyMountain.
Then Hermas proceeded to the little harbor, to bargain with thefishermen of the place for the boat which he needed While he was talkingwith an old Amalekite boatman, who, with his black-eyed sons, wasarranging his nets, two riders came at a quick pace towards the bay inwhich a large merchant-ship lay at anchor, surrounded by little barks.The fisherman pointed to it.
"It is waiting for the caravan from Petra," he said. "There, on thedromedary, is the emperor's great warrior who commands the Romans inPharan."
Hermas saw Phoebicius for the first time, and as he rode up towards himand the fisherman he started; if he had followed his first impulse, hewould have turned and have taken to flight, but his clear eyes had metthe dull and searching glance of the centurion, and, blushing at hisown weakness, he stood still with his arms crossed, and proudly anddefiantly awaited the Gaul who with his companion came straight up tohim.
Talib had previously seen the youth by his father's side; he recognizedhim and asked how long he had been there, and if he had come direct fromthe mountain. Hermas answered him as was becoming, and understood atonce that it was not he that the centurion was seeking.
Perfectly reassured and not without curiosity he looked at thenew-comer, and a smile curled his lips as he observed that the lean oldman, exhausted by his long and hurried ride, could scarcely hold himselfon his beast, and at the same time it struck him that this pitiableold man was the husband of the blooming and youthful Sirona. Far fromfeeling any remorse for his intrusion into this man's house, he yieldedentirely to the audacious humor with which his aspect filled him, andwhen Phoebicius himself asked him as to whether he had not met onhis way with a fair-haired woman and a limping greyhound, he replied,repressing his laughter with difficulty:
"Aye, indeed! I did see such a woman and her dog, but I do not think itwas lame."
"Where did you see her?" asked Phoebicius hastily. Hermas colored, forhe was oblige
d to tell an untruth, and it might be that he would doSirona an injury by giving false information. He therefore venturedto give no decided answer, but enquired, "Has the woman committed somecrime that you are pursuing her?"
"A great one!" replied Talib, "she is my lord's wife, and--"
What she has done wrong concerns me alone,' said Phoebicius, sharplyinterrupting his companion. "I hope this fellow saw better than you whotook the crying woman with a child, from Aila, for Sirona. What is yourname, boy?"
"Hermas," answered the lad. "And who are you, pray?"
The Gaul's lips were parted for an angry reply, but he suppressed it andsaid, "I am the emperor's centurion, and I ask you, what did the womanlook like whom you saw, and where did you meet her?"
The soldier's fierce looks, and his captain's words showed Hermas thatthe fugitive woman had nothing good to expect if she were caught, andas he was not in the least inclined to assist her pursuers he hastilyreplied, giving the reins to his audacity, "I at any rate did not meetthe person whom you seek; the woman I saw is certainly not this man'swife, for she might very well be his granddaughter. She had gold hair,and a rosy face, and the greyhound that followed her was called Iambe."
"Where did you meet her?" shrieked the centurion.
"In the fishing-village at the foot of the mountain," replied Hermas."She got into a boat, and away it went!"
"Towards the north?" asked the Gaul.
"I think so," replied Hermas, "but I do not know, for I was in a hurry,and could not look after her."
"Then we will try to take her in Klysma," cried Phoebicius to theAmalekite. "If only there were horses in this accursed desert!"
"It is four days' journey," said Talib considering. "And beyond Elimthere is no water before the Wells of Moses. Certainly if we could getgood dromedaries--"
"And if," interrupted Hermas, "it were not better that you, my lordcenturion, should not go so far from the oasis. For over there they saythat the Blemmyes are gathering, and I myself am going across as a spyso soon as it is dark."
Phoebicius looked down gloomily considering the matter. The news hadreached him too that the sons of the desert were preparing for a newincursion, and he cried to Talib angrily but decidedly, as he turnedhis back upon Hermas, "You must ride alone to Klysma, and try to captureher. I cannot and will not neglect my duty for the sake of the wretchedwoman."
Hermas looked after him as he went away, and laughed out loud when hesaw him disappear into his inn. He hired a boat from the old man for hispassage across the sea for one of the gold pieces given him by Paulus,and lying down on the nets he refreshed him self by a deep sleep of somehours' duration. When the moon rose he was roused in obedience to hisorders, and helped the boy who accompanied him, and who understood themanagement of the sails and rudder, to push the boat, which was laid upon the sand, down into the sea. Soon he was flying over the smooth andglistening waters before a light wind, and he felt as fresh and strongin spirit as a young eagle that has just left the nest, and spreads itsmighty wings for the first time. He could have shouted in his new anddelicious sense of freedom, and the boy at the stern shook his head inastonishment when he saw Hermas wield the oars he had entrusted to him,unskilfully it is true, but with mighty strokes.
"The wind is in our favor," he called out to the anchorite as he hauledround the sail with the rope in his hand, "we shall get on without yourworking so hard. You may save your strength."
"There is plenty of it, and I need not be stingy of it," answeredHermas, and he bent forward for another powerful stroke.
About half-way he took a rest, and admired the reflection of the moonin the bright mirror of the water, and he could not but think of Petrus'court-yard that had shone in the same silvery light when he had climbedup to Sirona's window. The image of the fair, whitearmed woman recurredto his mind, and a melancholy longing began to creep over him.
He sighed softly, again and yet again; but as his breast heaved forthe third bitter sigh, he remembered the object of his journey and hisbroken fetters, and with eager arrogance he struck the oar flat on tothe water so that it spurted high up, and sprinkled the boat and himwith a shower of wet and twinkling diamond drops. He began to work theoars again, reflecting as he did so, that he had something better todo than to think of a woman. Indeed, he found it easy to forget Sironacompletely, for in the next few days he went through every excitement ofa warrior's life.
Scarcely two hours after his start from Raithu he was standing on thesoil of another continent, and, after finding a hiding-place for hisboat, he slipped off among the hills to watch the movements of theBlemmyes. The very first day he went up to the valley in which they weregathering; on the second, after being many times seen and pursued, hesucceeded in seizing a warrior who had been sent out to reconnoitre, andin carrying him off with him; he bound him, and by heavy threats learnedmany things from him.
The number of their collected enemies was great, but Hermas had hopes ofoutstripping them, for his prisoner revealed to him the spot where theirboats, drawn up on shore, lay hidden under sand and stones.
As soon as it was dusk, the anchorite in his boat went towards the placeof embarkation, and when the Blemmyes, in the darkness of midnight, drewtheir first bark into the water, Hermas sailed off ahead of the enemy,landed in much danger below the western declivity of the mountain, andhastened up towards Sinai to warn the Pharanite watchmen on the beacon.
He gained the top of the difficult peak before sunrise, roused the lazysentinels who had left their posts, and before they were able to mountguard, to hoist the flags or to begin to sound the brazen cymbals, hehad hurried on down the valley to his father's cave.
Since his disappearance Miriam had incessantly hovered round Stephanus'dwelling, and had fetched fresh water for the old man every morning,noon and evening, even after a new nurse, who was clumsier and morepeevish, had taken Paulus' place. She lived on roots, and on the breadthe sick man gave her, and at night she lay down to sleep in a deep drycleft of the rock that she had long known well. She quitted her hard bedbefore daybreak to refill the old man's pitcher, and to chatter to himabout Hermas.
She was a willing servant to Stephanus because as often as she went tohim, she could hear his son's name from his lips, and he rejoiced at hercoming because she always gave him the opportunity of talking of Hermas.
For many weeks the sick man had been so accustomed to let himself bewaited on that he accepted the shepherdess's good offices as a matter ofcourse, and she never attempted to account to herself for her readinessto serve him. Stephanus would have suffered in dispensing with her, andto her, her visits to the well and her conversations with the old manhad become a need, nay a necessity, for she still was ignorantwhether Hermas was yet alive, or whether Phoebicius had killed him inconsequence of her betrayal. Perhaps all that Stephanus told her of hisson's journey of investigation was an invention of Paulus to spare thesick man, and accustom him gradually to the loss of his child; and yetshe was only too willing to believe that Hermas still lived, and shequitted the neighborhood of the cave as late as possible, and filledthe sick man's water-jar before the sun was up, only because she said toherself that the fugitive on his return would seek no one else so soonas his father.
She had not one really quiet moment, for if a falling stone, anapproaching footstep, or the cry of a beast broke the stillness of thedesert she at once hid herself, and listened with a beating heart; muchless from fear of Petrus her master, from whom she had run away, thanin the expectation of hearing the step of the man whom she had betrayedinto the hand of his enemy, and for whom she nevertheless painfullylonged day and night.
As often as she lingered by the spring she wetted her stubborn hair tosmooth it, and washed her face with as much zeal as if she thought sheshould succeed in washing the dark hue out of her skin. And all this shedid for him, that on his return she might charm him as much as thewhite woman in the oasis, whom she hated as fiercely as she loved himpassionately.
During the heavy storm of la
st night a torrent from the mountain-heighthad shed itself into her retreat and had driven her out of it. Wetthrough, shelterless, tormented by remorse, fear and longing, she hadclambered from stone to stone, and sought refuge and peace under firstone rock and then another; thus she had been attracted by the glimmerof light that shone out of the new dwelling of the pious Paulus; she hadseen and recognized the Alexandrian, but he had not observed her as hecowered on the ground near his hearth deeply sunk in thought.
She knew now where the excommunicated man dwelt after whom Stephanusoften asked, and she had gathered from the old man's lamentations anddark hints, that Paulus too had been ensnared and brought to ruin by herenemy.
As the morning-star began to pale Miriam went up to Stephanus' cave; herheart was full of tears, and yet she was unable to pour out her need andsuffering in a soothing flood of weeping; she was wholly possessedwith a wild desire to sink down on the earth there and die, and to bereleased by death from her relentless, driving torment. But it was stilltoo early to disturb the old man--and yet--she must hear a human voice,one word--even if it were a hard word--from the lips of a human being;for the bewildering feeling of distraction which confused her mind, andthe misery of abandonment that crushed her heart, were all too cruellypainful to be borne.
She was standing by the entrance to the cave when, high above herhead, she heard the falling of stones and the cry of a human voice.She started and listened with out-stretched neck and strung sinews,motionless. Then she broke suddenly into a loud and piercing shoutof joy, and flinging up her arms she flew up the mountain towards atraveller who came swiftly down to meet her.
"Hermas! Hermas!" she shouted, and all the sunny delight of her heartwas reflected in her cry so clearly and purely that the sympatheticchords in the young man's soul echoed the sound, and he hailed her withjoyful welcome.
He had never before greeted her thus, and the tone of his voice revivedher poor crushed heart like a restorative draught offered by a tenderhand to the lips of the dying. Exquisite delight, and a glow ofgratitude such as she had never before felt flooded her soul, and ashe was so good to her she longed to show him that she had something tooffer in return for the gift of friendship which he offered her. Sothe first thing she said to him was, "I have staid constantly nearyour father, and have brought him water early and late, as much as heneeded."
She blushed as she thus for the first time praised herself to him, butHermas exclaimed, "That is a good girl! and I will not forget it. Youare a wild, silly thing, but I believe that you are to be relied on bythose to whom you feel kindly."
"Only try me," cried Miriam holding out her hand to him. He took it, andas they went on together he said:
"Do you hear the brass? I have warned the watchmen up there; theBlemmyes are coming. Is Paulus with my father?"
"No, but I know where he is."
"Then you must call him," said the young man. "Him first and thenGelasius, and Psoes, and Dulas, and any more of the penitents that youcan find. They must all go to the castle by the ravine. Now I will goto my father; you hurry on and show that you are to be trusted." As hespoke he put his arm round her waist, but she slipped shyly away, andcalling out, "I will take them all the message," she hurried off.
In front of the cave where she had hoped to meet with Paulus she foundSirona; she did not stop with her, but contented herself with laughingwildly and calling out words of abuse.
Guided by the idea that she should find the Alexandrian at the nearestwell, she went on and called him, then hurrying on from cave to cave shedelivered her message in Hermas' name, happy to serve him.