CHAPTER VIII
The streets were full of people going and coming, or grouped aboutthe fires roasting meat, and feasting and singing, and happy.The odor of scorching flesh mixed with the odor of cedar-woodaflame and smoking loaded the air; and as this was the occasionwhen every son of Israel was full brother to every other son ofIsrael, and hospitality was without bounds, Ben-Hur was salutedat every step, while the groups by the fires insisted, "Stay andpartake with us. We are brethren in the love of the Lord." But withthanks to them he hurried on, intending to take horse at the khanand return to the tents on the Cedron.
To make the place, it was necessary for him to cross thethoroughfare so soon to receive sorrowful Christian perpetuation.There also the pious celebration was at its height. Looking upthe street, he noticed the flames of torches in motion streamingout like pennons; then he observed that the singing ceased wherethe torches came. His wonder rose to its highest, however, when hebecame certain that amidst the smoke and dancing sparks he saw thekeener sparkling of burnished spear-tips, arguing the presence ofRoman soldiers. What were they, the scoffing legionaries, doing ina Jewish religious procession? The circumstance was unheard of,and he stayed to see the meaning of it.
The moon was shining its best; yet, as if the moon and the torches,and the fires in the street, and the rays streaming from windowsand open doors were not enough to make the way clear, some of theprocessionists carried lighted lanterns; and fancying he discovereda special purpose in the use of such equipments, Ben-Hur steppedinto the street so close to the line of march as to bring everyone of the company under view while passing. The torches and thelanterns were being borne by servants, each of whom was armed witha bludgeon or a sharpened stave. Their present duty seemed to beto pick out the smoothest paths among the rocks in the street forcertain dignitaries among them--elders and priests; rabbis with longbeards, heavy brows, and beaked noses; men of the class potential inthe councils of Caiaphas and Hannas. Where could they be going?Not to the Temple, certainly, for the route to the sacred housefrom Zion, whence these appeared to be coming, was by the Xystus.And their business--if peaceful, why the soldiers?
As the procession began to go by Ben-Hur, his attention wasparticularly called to three persons walking together. They werewell towards the front, and the servants who went before them withlanterns appeared unusually careful in the service. In the personmoving on the left of this group he recognized a chief policemanof the Temple; the one on the right was a priest; the middle manwas not at first so easily placed, as he walked leaning heavily uponthe arms of the others, and carried his head so low upon his breastas to hide his face. His appearance was that of a prisoner not yetrecovered from the fright of arrest, or being taken to somethingdreadful--to torture or death. The dignitaries helping him on theright and left, and the attention they gave him, made it clear thatif he were not himself the object moving the party, he was at leastin some way connected with the object--a witness or a guide, possiblyan informer. So if it could be found who he was the business in handmight be shrewdly guessed. With great assurance, Ben-Hur fell in onthe right of the priest, and walked along with him. Now if the manwould lift his head! And presently he did so, letting the light ofthe lanterns strike full in his face, pale, dazed, pinched withdread; the beard roughed; the eyes filmy, sunken, and despairing.In much going about following the Nazarene, Ben-Hur had come toknow his disciples as well as the Master; and now, at sight ofthe dismal countenance, he cried out,
"The 'Scariot!"
Slowly the head of the man turned until his eyes settled uponBen-Hur, and his lips moved as if he were about to speak; but thepriest interfered.
"Who art thou? Begone!" he said to Ben-Hur, pushing him away.
The young man took the push good-naturedly, and, waiting an opportunity,fell into the procession again. Thus he was carried passively along downthe street, through the crowded lowlands between the hill Bezethaand the Castle of Antonia, and on by the Bethesda reservoir to theSheep Gate. There were people everywhere, and everywhere the peoplewere engaged in sacred observances.
It being Passover night, the valves of the Gate stood open. Thekeepers were off somewhere feasting. In front of the processionas it passed out unchallenged was the deep gorge of the Cedron,with Olivet beyond, its dressing of cedar and olive trees darker ofthe moonlight silvering all the heavens. Two roads met and mergedinto the street at the gate--one from the northeast, the otherfrom Bethany. Ere Ben-Hur could finish wondering whether he wereto go farther, and if so, which road was to be taken, he was ledoff down into the gorge. And still no hint of the purpose of themidnight march.
Down the gorge and over the bridge at the bottom of it. There wasa great clatter on the floor as the crowd, now a straggling rabble,passed over beating and pounding with their clubs and staves.A little farther, and they turned off to the left in the directionof an olive orchard enclosed by a stone wall in view from the road.Ben-Hur knew there was nothing in the place but old gnarled trees,the grass, and a trough hewn out of a rock for the treading of oilafter the fashion of the country. While, yet more wonder-struck,he was thinking what could bring such a company at such an hourto a quarter so lonesome, they were all brought to a standstill.Voices called out excitedly in front; a chill sensation ran fromman to man; there was a rapid falling-back, and a blind stumblingover each other. The soldiers alone kept their order.
It took Ben-Hur but a moment to disengage himself from the mob andrun forward. There he found a gateway without a gate admitting tothe orchard, and he halted to take in the scene.
A man in white clothes, and bareheaded, was standing outside theentrance, his hands crossed before him--a slender, stooping figure,with long hair and thin face--in an attitude of resignation andwaiting.
It was the Nazarene!
Behind him, next the gateway, were the disciples in a group; theywere excited, but no man was ever calmer than he. The torchlightbeat redly upon him, giving his hair a tint ruddier than wasnatural to it; yet the expression of the countenance was asusual all gentleness and pity.
Opposite this most unmartial figure stood the rabble, gaping,silent, awed, cowering--ready at a sign of anger from him to breakand run. And from him to them--then at Judas, conspicuous in theirmidst--Ben-Hur looked--one quick glance, and the object of the visitlay open to his understanding. Here was the betrayer, there thebetrayed; and these with clubs and staves, and the legionaries,were brought to take him.
A man may not always tell what he will do until the trial isupon him. This was the emergency for which Ben-Hur had beenfor years preparing. The man to whose security he had devotedhimself, and upon whose life he had been building so largely,was in personal peril; yet he stood still. Such contradictions arethere in human nature! To say truth, O reader, he was not entirelyrecovered from the picture of the Christ before the Gate Beautifulas it had been given by the Egyptian; and, besides that, the verycalmness with which the mysterious person confronted the mob heldhim in restraint by suggesting the possession of a power in reservemore than sufficient for the peril. Peace and good-will, and loveand non-resistance, had been the burden of the Nazarene's teaching;would he put his preaching into practice? He was master of life; hecould restore it when lost; he could take it at pleasure. What usewould he make of the power now? Defend himself? And how? A word--abreath--a thought were sufficient. That there would be some signalexhibition of astonishing force beyond the natural Ben-Hur believed,and in that faith waited. And in all this he was still measuring theNazarene by himself--by the human standard.
Presently the clear voice of the Christ arose.
"Whom seek ye?"
"Jesus of Nazareth," the priest replied.
"I am he."
At these simplest of words, spoken without passion or alarm,the assailants fell back several steps, the timid among themcowering to the ground; and they might have let him alone andgone away had not Judas walked over to him.
"Hail, master!"
With this friendly speech, he kissed him.
> "Judas," said the Nazarene, mildly, "betrayest thou the Son ofman with a kiss? Wherefore art thou come?"
Receiving no reply, the Master spoke to the crowd again.
"Whom seek ye?"
"Jesus of Nazareth."
"I have told you that I am he. If, therefore, you seek me, let thesego their way."
At these words of entreaty the rabbis advanced upon him; and,seeing their intent, some of the disciples for whom he intercededdrew nearer; one of them cut off a man's ear, but without savingthe Master from being taken. And yet Ben-Hur stood still! Nay,while the officers were making ready with their ropes the Nazarenewas doing his greatest charity--not the greatest in deed, but thevery greatest in illustration of his forbearance, so far surpassingthat of men.
"Suffer ye thus far," he said to the wounded man, and healed himwith a touch.
Both friends and enemies were confounded--one side that he could dosuch a thing, the other that he would do it under the circumstances.
"Surely he will not allow them to bind him!"
Thus thought Ben-Hur.
"Put up thy sword into the sheath; the cup which my Father hathgiven me, shall I not drink it?" From the offending follower,the Nazarene turned to his captors. "Are you come out as againsta thief, with swords and staves to take me? I was daily with youin the Temple, and you took me not; but this is your hour, and thepower of darkness."
The posse plucked up courage and closed about him; and when Ben-Hurlooked for the faithful they were gone--not one of them remained.
The crowd about the deserted man seemed very busy with tongue, hand,and foot. Over their heads, between the torch-sticks, through thesmoke, sometimes in openings between the restless men, Ben-Hur caughtmomentary glimpses of the prisoner. Never had anything struck him asso piteous, so unfriended, so forsaken! Yet, he thought, the mancould have defended himself--he could have slain his enemies witha breath, but he would not. What was the cup his father had givenhim to drink? And who was the father to be so obeyed? Mystery uponmystery--not one, but many.
Directly the mob started in return to the city, the soldiersin the lead. Ben-Hur became anxious; he was not satisfied withhimself. Where the torches were in the midst of the rabble heknew the Nazarene was to be found. Suddenly he resolved to seehim again. He would ask him one question.
Taking off his long outer garment and the handkerchief from hishead, he threw them upon the orchard wall, and started after theposse, which he boldly joined. Through the stragglers he made way,and by littles at length reached the man who carried the ends ofthe rope with which the prisoner was bound.
The Nazarene was walking slowly, his head down, his hands boundbehind him; the hair fell thickly over his face, and he stoopedmore than usual; apparently he was oblivious to all going onaround him. In advance a few steps were priests and elders talkingand occasionally looking back. When, at length, they were all nearthe bridge in the gorge, Ben-Hur took the rope from the servant whohad it, and stepped past him.
"Master, master!" he said, hurriedly, speaking close to theNazarene's ear. "Dost thou hear, master? A word--one word.Tell me--"
The fellow from whom he had taken the rope now claimed it.
"Tell me," Ben-Hur continued, "goest thou with these of thine ownaccord?"
The people were come up now, and in his own ears asking angrily,"Who art thou, man?"
"O master," Ben-Hur made haste to say, his voice sharp with anxiety,"I am thy friend and lover. Tell me, I pray thee, if I bring rescue,wilt thou accept it?"
The Nazarene never so much as looked up or allowed the slightestsign of recognition; yet the something which when we are sufferingis always telling it to such as look at us, though they be strangers,failed not now. "Let him alone," it seemed to say; "he has beenabandoned by his friends; the world has denied him; in bitternessof spirit, he has taken farewell of men; he is going he knows notwhere, and he cares not. Let him alone."
And to that Ben-Hur was now driven. A dozen hands were upon him,and from all sides there was shouting, "He is one of them. Bringhim along; club him--kill him!"
With a gust of passion which gave him many times his ordinary force,Ben-Hur raised himself, turned once about with arms outstretched,shook the hands off, and rushed through the circle which was fasthemming him in. The hands snatching at him as he passed tore hisgarments from his back, so he ran off the road naked; and the gorge,in keeping of the friendly darkness, darker there than elsewhere,received him safe.
Reclaiming his handkerchief and outer garments from the orchardwall, he followed back to the city gate; thence he went to thekhan, and on the good horse rode to the tents of his people outby the Tombs of the Kings.
As he rode, he promised himself to see the Nazarene on themorrow--promised it, not knowing that the unfriended man was takenstraightway to the house of Hannas to be tried that night.
The heart the young man carried to his couch beat so heavily hecould not sleep; for now clearly his renewed Judean kingdom resolveditself into what it was--only a dream. It is bad enough to see ourcastles overthrown one after another with an interval betweenin which to recover from the shock, or at least let the echoesof the fall die away; but when they go altogether--go as shipssink, as houses tumble in earthquakes--the spirits which endureit calmly are made of stuffs sterner than common, and Ben-Hur'swas not of them. Through vistas in the future, he began to catchglimpses of a life serenely beautiful, with a home instead of apalace of state, and Esther its mistress. Again and again throughthe leaden-footed hours of the night he saw the villa by Misenum,and with his little countrywoman strolled through the garden,and rested in the panelled atrium; overhead the Neapolitan sky,at their feet the sunniest of sun-lands and the bluest of bays.
In plainest speech, he was entering upon a crisis with whichto-morrow and the Nazarene will have everything to do.