CHAPTER V
Nowadays travellers in the Holy Land looking for the famous place withthe beautiful name, the King's Garden, descend the bed of the Cedron orthe curve of Gihon and Hinnom as far as the old well En-rogel, take adrink of the sweet living water, and stop, having reached the limitof the interesting in that direction. They look at the great stoneswith which the well is curbed, ask its depth, smile at the primitivemode of drawing the purling treasure, and waste some pity on theragged wretch who presides over it; then, facing about, they areenraptured with the mounts Moriah and Zion, both of which slopetowards them from the north, one terminating in Ophel, the otherin what used to be the site of the city of David. In the background,up far in the sky, the garniture of the sacred places is visible:here the Haram, with its graceful dome; yonder the stalward remainsof Hippicus, defiant even in ruins. When that view has been enjoyed,and is sufficiently impressed upon the memory, the travellersglance at the Mount of Offence standing in rugged statelinessat their right hand, and then at the Hill of Evil Counsel over onthe left, in which, if they be well up in Scriptural history andin the traditions rabbinical and monkish, they will find a certaininterest not to be overcome by superstitious horror.
It were long to tell all the points of interest grouped aroundthat hill; for the present purpose, enough that its feet areplanted in the veritable orthodox Hell of the moderns--the Hellof brimstone and fire--in the old nomenclature Gehenna; and thatnow, as in the days of Christ, its bluff face opposite the cityon the south and southeast is seamed and pitted with tombs whichhave been immemorially the dwelling-places of lepers, not singly,but collectively. There they set up their government and establishedtheir society; there they founded a city and dwelt by themselves,avoided as the accursed of God.
The second morning after the incidents of the preceding chapter,Amrah drew near the well En-rogel, and seated herself upon a stone.One familiar with Jerusalem, looking at her, would have said she wasthe favorite servant of some well-to-do family. She brought withher a water-jar and a basket, the contents of the latter coveredwith a snow-white napkin. Placing them on the ground at her side,she loosened the shawl which fell from her head, knit her fingerstogether in her lap, and gazed demurely up to where the hill dropssteeply down into Aceldama and the Potter's Field.
It was very early, and she was the first to arrive at the well.Soon, however, a man came bringing a rope and a leathern bucket.Saluting the little dark-faced woman, he undid the rope, fixed itto the bucket, and waited customers. Others who chose to do so mightdraw water for themselves, he was a professional in the business,and would fill the largest jar the stoutest woman could carry fora gerah.
Amrah sat still, and had nothing to say. Seeing the jar, the manasked after a while if she wished it filled; she answered him civilly,"Not now;" whereupon he gave her no more attention. When the dawn wasfairly defined over Olivet, his patrons began to arrive, and he hadall he could do to attend to them. All the time she kept her seat,looking intently up at the hill.
The sun made its appearance, yet she sat watching and waiting; andwhile she thus waits, let us see what her purpose is.
Her custom had been to go to market after nightfall. Stealing outunobserved, she would seek the shops in the Tyropoeon, or thoseover by the Fish Gate in the east, make her purchases of meatand vegetables, and return and shut herself up again.
The pleasure she derived from the presence of Ben-Hur in the oldhouse once more may be imagined. She had nothing to tell him ofher mistress or Tirzah--nothing. He would have had her move to aplace not so lonesome; she refused. She would have had him take hisown room again, which was just as he had left it; but the danger ofdiscovery was too great, and he wished above all things to avoidinquiry. He would come and see her often as possible. Coming inthe night, he would also go away in the night. She was compelledto be satisfied, and at once occupied herself contriving ways tomake him happy. That he was a man now did not occur to her; nor didit enter her mind that he might have put by or lost his boyish tastes;to please him, she thought to go on her old round of services. He usedto be fond of confections; she remembered the things in that linewhich delighted him most, and resolved to make them, and have asupply always ready when he came. Could anything be happier? Sonext night, earlier than usual, she stole out with her basket,and went over to the Fish Gate Market. Wandering about, seeking thebest honey, she chanced to hear a man telling a story.
What the story was the reader can arrive at with sufficient certaintywhen told that the narrator was one of the men who had held torchesfor the commandant of the Tower of Antonia when, down in cell VI.,the Hurs were found. The particulars of the finding were all told,and she heard them, with the names of the prisoners, and the widow'saccount of herself.
The feelings with which Amrah listened to the recital were suchas became the devoted creature she was. She made her purchases,and returned home in a dream. What a happiness she had in storefor her boy! She had found his mother!
She put the basket away, now laughing, now crying. Suddenly shestopped and thought. It would kill him to be told that his motherand Tirzah were lepers. He would go through the awful city overon the Hill of Evil Counsel--into each infected tomb he would gowithout rest, asking for them, and the disease would catch him,and their fate would be his. She wrung her hands. What should shedo?
Like many a one before her, and many a one since, she derivedinspiration, if not wisdom, from her affection, and came to asingular conclusion.
The lepers, she knew, were accustomed of mornings to come downfrom their sepulchral abodes in the hill, and take a supply ofwater for the day from the well En-rogel. Bringing their jars,they would set them on the ground and wait, standing afar untilthey were filled. To that the mistress and Tirzah must come;for the law was inexorable, and admitted no distinction. A richleper was no better than a poor one.
So Amrah decided not to speak to Ben-Hur of the story she had heard,but go alone to the well and wait. Hunger and thirst would drivethe unfortunates thither, and she believed she could recognizethem at sight; if not, they might recognize her.
Meantime Ben-Hur came, and they talked much. To-morrow Malluchwould arrive; then the search should be immediately begun. He wasimpatient to be about it. To amuse himself he would visit the sacredplaces in the vicinity. The secret, we may be sure, weighed heavilyon the woman, but she held her peace.
When he was gone she busied herself in the preparation of thingsgood to eat, applying her utmost skill to the work. At the approachof day, as signalled by the stars, she filled the basket, selected ajar, and took the road to En-rogel, going out by the Fish Gate whichwas earliest open, and arriving as we have seen.
Shortly after sunrise, when business at the well was most pressing,and the drawer of water most hurried; when, in fact, half a dozenbuckets were in use at the same time, everybody making haste to getaway before the cool of the morning melted into the heat of the day,the tenantry of the hill began to appear and move about the doorsof their tombs. Somewhat later they were discernible in groups,of which not a few were children so young that they suggested theholiest relation. Numbers came momentarily around the turn of thebluff--women with jars upon their shoulders, old and very feeblemen hobbling along on staffs and crutches. Some leaned upon theshoulders of others; a few--the utterly helpless--lay, like heapsof rags, upon litters. Even that community of superlative sorrow hadits love-light to make life endurable and attractive. Distance softenedwithout entirely veiling the misery of the outcasts.
From her seat by the well Amrah kept watch upon the spectralgroups. She scarcely moved. More than once she imagined she sawthose she sought. That they were there upon the hill she had nodoubt; that they must come down and near she knew; when the peopleat the well were all served they would come.
Now, quite at the base of the bluff there was a tomb which hadmore than once attracted Amrah by its wide gaping. A stone oflarge dimensions stood near its mouth. The sun looked into itthrough the hottest hours of the day, and altogether it see
meduninhabitable by anything living, unless, perchance, by somewild dogs returning from scavenger duty down in Gehenna. Thence,however, and greatly to her surprise, the patient Egyptian beheldtwo women come, one half supporting, half leading, the other.They were both white-haired; both looked old; but their garmentswere not rent, and they gazed about them as if the locality werenew. The witness below thought she even saw them shrink terrifiedat the spectacle offered by the hideous assemblage of which theyfound themselves part. Slight reasons, certainly, to make herheart beat faster, and draw her attention to them exclusively;but so they did.
The two remained by the stone awhile; then they moved slowly,painfully, and with much fear towards the well, whereat severalvoices were raised to stop them; yet they kept on. The drawer ofwater picked up some pebbles, and made ready to drive them back.The company cursed them. The greater company on the hill shoutedshrilly, "Unclean, unclean!"
"Surely," thought Amrah of the two, as they kept coming--"surely,they are strangers to the usage of lepers."
She arose, and went to meet them, taking the basket and jar.The alarm at the well immediately subsided.
"What a fool," said one, laughing, "what a fool to give good breadto the dead in that way!"
"And to think of her coming so far!" said another. "I would atleast make them meet me at the gate."
Amrah, with better impulse, proceeded. If she should be mistaken!Her heart arose into her throat. And the farther she went the moredoubtful and confused she became. Four or five yards from wherethey stood waiting for her she stopped.
That the mistress she loved! whose hand she had so often kissedin gratitude! whose image of matronly loveliness she had treasuredin memory so faithfully! And that the Tirzah she had nursed throughbabyhood! whose pains she had soothed, whose sports she had shared!that the smiling, sweet-faced, songful Tirzah, the light of thegreat house, the promised blessing of her old age! Her mistress,her darling--they? The soul of the woman sickened at the sight.
"These are old women," she said to herself. "I never saw thembefore. I will go back."
She turned away.
"Amrah," said one of the lepers.
The Egyptian dropped the jar, and looked back, trembling.
"Who called me?" she asked.
"Amrah."
The servant's wondering eyes settled upon the speaker's face.
"Who are you?" she cried.
"We are they you are seeking."
Amrah fell upon her knees.
"O my mistress, my mistress! As I have made your God my God, be hepraised that he has led me to you!"
And upon her knees the poor overwhelmed creature began movingforward.
"Stay, Amrah! Come not nearer. Unclean, unclean!"
The words sufficed. Amrah fell upon her face, sobbing so loudthe people at the well heard her. Suddenly she arose upon herknees again.
"O my mistress, where is Tirzah?"
"Here I am, Amrah, here! Will you not bring me a little water?"
The habit of the servant renewed itself. Putting back the coarsehair fallen over her face, Amrah arose and went to the basket anduncovered it.
"See," she said, "here are bread and meat."
She would have spread the napkin upon the ground, but the mistressspoke again,
"Do not so, Amrah. Those yonder may stone you, and refuse us drink.Leave the basket with me. Take up the jar and fill it, and bring ithere. We will carry them to the tomb with us. For this day you willthen have rendered all the service that is lawful. Haste, Amrah."
The people under whose eyes all this had passed made way for theservant, and even helped her fill the jar, so piteous was thegrief her countenance showed.
"Who are they?" a woman asked.
Amrah meekly answered, "They used to be good to me."
Raising the jar upon her shoulder, she hurried back. In forgetfulness,she would have gone to them, but the cry "Unclean, unclean! Beware!"arrested her. Placing the water by the basket, she stepped back,and stood off a little way.
"Thank you, Amrah," said the mistress, taking the articles intopossession. "This is very good of you."
"Is there nothing more I can do?" asked Amrah.
The mother's hand was upon the jar, and she was fevered with thirst;yet she paused, and rising, said firmly, "Yes, I know that Judahhas come home. I saw him at the gate night before last asleep onthe step. I saw you wake him."
Amrah clasped her hands.
"O my mistress! You saw it, and did not come!"
"That would have been to kill him. I can never take him in my armsagain. I can never kiss him more. O Amrah, Amrah, you love him,I know!"
"Yes," said the true heart, bursting into tears again, and kneeling."I would die for him."
"Prove to me what you say, Amrah."
"I am ready."
"Then you shall not tell him where we are or that you have seenus--only that, Amrah."
"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 thelittle we need--not long now--not long. You shall come every morningand evening thus, and--and"--the voice trembled, the strong willalmost broke down--"and you shall tell us of him, Amrah; but tohim you shall say nothing of us. Hear you?"
"Oh, it will be so hard to hear him speak of you, and see himgoing about looking for you--to see all his love, and not tellhim 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 motheranswered as she gave the basket to Tirzah. "Come again thisevening," she repeated, taking up the water, and starting forthe tomb.
Amrah waited kneeling until they had disappeared; then she tookthe road sorrowfully home.
In the evening she returned; and thereafter it became her customto serve them in the morning and evening, so that they wanted fornothing needful. The tomb, though ever so stony and desolate, wasless cheerless than the cell in the Tower had been. Daylight gildedits door, and it was in the beautiful world. Then, one can waitdeath with so much more faith out under the open sky.