CHAPTER XXI.
Totila, avoiding the more thickly populated parts of the inner town,hurried through the suburbs towards the Porta Capuana and the tower ofIsaac, the Jewish gate-keeper.
This tower stood on the right of the gate, and had strong walls and amassive arched roof. It was divided into different stories, each beingsmaller than the one below it. In the top story, close to thebattlements, were two low but roomy chambers, intended for the dwellingof the gate-keeper.
There lived the old Jew, with Miriam, his beautiful daughter.
In the largest of these two rooms--where, against the walls, hunga row of heavy keys belonging to the principal and side doors ofthis important gate, a curved signal-horn, and the spear of thegate-keeper--sat Isaac, the aged warder, a tall, bony figure, with thehooked nose and arched and bushy eyebrows of his nation. He sat upon areed mat, with his legs crossed, a long staff laid upon his knees,listening attentively to the words of a young, ill-favoured-lookingman, evidently an Israelite, whose hard, sober features were expressiveof all the cunning of his race.
"Look here, father Isaac," he was saying, in a thin, unpleasant voice,"my words are no vain words, and do not come only from the heart, whichis blind, but from the mind, which is sharp to discern. I have broughtletter and document for every word that I speak. Here is my appointmentas architect of all the aqueducts in Italy; fifty gold solidi yearly,and ten more for every new undertaking. I have just reconstructed thehalf-ruined aqueduct for this city of Neapolis; in this purse are theten solidi, money down. Thou seest I can keep a wife, and besides, I amthy cousin Rachel's son, so do not let me speak in vain, but give meMiriam, thy child, to wife, so that she may set my house in order."
But the old man stroked his long grey beard, and shook his head slowly.
"Jochem, son of Rachel, I say to thee, leave it alone, leave it alone."
"Why, what hast thou against me? Who in Israel can speak againstJochem?"
"No one. Thou art just and peaceful and industrious, and increasest thysubstance, and thy work flourisheth before the Lord. But hast thou everseen the nightingale mated with the sparrow, or the slender gazellewith the beast of burden? They do not suit each other; and now, lookthere, and tell me thyself if thou art fitted for Miriam?"
He softly pushed aside the curtain which shut off the outer chamber. Ata large bow-window which commanded a view of the splendid city, theblue sea, and the distant mountains, stood a young girl, holding astrangely-shaped stringed instrument in her arms. The room was filledwith the glowing light of the setting sun, which bathed the whitegarments and the noble features of the girl with a rosy lustre. Itplayed upon her shining black hair, which, stroked back behind thesmall ears, exposed the delicate temples; and, like this sunshine, apoetical harmony seemed to envelop her whole figure, accompanying herevery movement, and every dreamy look of her dark blue eyes, which,filled with gentle thoughts, gazed out over sea and city. Piso, thepoet, had called these eyes "dark sea-blue."
As if in a half dream, her fingers touched the strings of herinstrument softly, while from her half-open lips there breathed an oldand melancholy song:
"By the waters of Babylon We sat down and wept. When comes the day when Israel Shall cease to weep?"
"Shall cease to weep?" she repeated dreamily, and leaned her head uponher arm, which, enclosing the harp, she rested upon the window-sill.
"Look there!" said the old man in a low voice, "is she not as lovely asthe rose of Sharon, or the hind upon the mountain, without spot orfleck?"
Before Jochem could answer, there sounded from below three knocks uponthe small iron door. Miriam started from her reverie, and hurried downthe narrow winding staircase. Jochem went to the window, and his facegrew dark and frowning.
"Ha! the Christian! the cursed Christian!" he growled, and clenched hisfist. "That fair Goth again, with his insufferable pride! Father Isaac,is that the stag that suits thee for thy hind?"
"Son, speak no mocking word against Isaac! Thou knowest that the youthhas set his heart upon a Roman girl; he thinks not of the Pearl ofJudah!"
"But perhaps the Pearl of Judah thinks of him!"
"With joy and gratitude, as the lamb thinks of the strong shepherd whohas saved it from the jaws of the wolf. Hast thou forgotten, that, whenlast these cursed Romans hunted for the treasures and gold-heaps ofIsrael, and burnt down the synagogue with unholy fire, a band of thesewicked men chased my poor child through the streets, like a pack ofwolves after a white lamb, and tore the veil from her face, and thekerchief from her shoulders? Where was Jochem then, my cousin's son,who had accompanied her? He had fled from danger with swift feet, andhad left the dove in the claws of the vulture!"
"I am a man of peace," said Jochem uneasily; "my hand holds not thesword of force."
"But Totila held it, brave as the Lion of Judah; and the Lord was withhim. Alone he sprang amid the group of impudent robbers, struck theboldest with his sharp sword, and drove away the others as a falconfrighten crows. He covered my trembling child carefully with her veil,and supporting her tottering footsteps, led her home, unhurt, to thearms of her old father. May Jehovah the Lord bless him for this deedwith long life and happiness!"
"Well," said Jochem, taking up his papers, "then I will go: this timefor a long while. I must travel over the great waters to transact animportant business."
"An important business? With whom?"
"With Justinianus, the Emperor of the East. A portion of the greatchurch, which he is building to the glory of God, in the golden town ofConstantine, has fallen in. I have made a plan for the restoration ofthe building."
The old man sprang up hastily, and struck his stick upon the ground.
"What, Jochem, son of Rachel! wilt thou serve the Romans? Wilt thouserve the Emperor, whose forefathers destroyed the holy city of Zion,and reduced the Temple of the Lord to ashes? Wilt thou build a housefor the erring faith, thou, the son of the pious Manasseh? Woe, woe tothee!"
"Why callest thou 'woe,' and knowest not wherefore? Canst thou smellwhether a gold piece comes from the hand of a Jew or from that of aChristian? Does it not weigh as heavily and shine as brightly?"
"Son of Manasseh, thou canst not serve God and Mammon."
"But thou thyself art a servant of the unbelievers! Do I not see thewarder's keys on the walls of thy chamber? Dost thou not keep them forthese Goths, and openest the doors for their outgoing and incoming, andguardest the castle of their strength?"
"Yes, I do so," said the old man proudly; "and I will watch for themfaithfully, day and night, like a dog for its master; and as long asIsaac lives, no enemy of their nation shall enter these gates. For thechildren of Israel owe fervent thanks to them and to their great King,who was as wise as Solomon and as mighty as Gideon! We owe them suchthanks as our forefathers owed to Cyrus, who freed them from theBabylonian captivity. The Romans destroyed the Temple of the Lord, andscattered His people over the face of the earth. They have mocked andbeaten us, and burnt our holy places, and plundered our towns, anddefiled our houses, and forced our wives, all over this land, and havemade many a cruel law against us. But there came this great King fromthe North, whose seed may Jehovah bless! and he rebuilt our synagogues,and where the Romans had destroyed them, they were obliged to rebuildthem with their own hands and their own money. He protected our homes,and whoever injured an Israelite was punished as if he had offended aChristian. He left us our God and our belief, and protected ourcommerce, and we celebrated the Paschal in such joy and peace as we hadnever known since the time when the Temple still stood upon Zion. Andwhen a Roman noble had taken my Sarah from me by force, King Theodoricordered that his proud head should be struck off that very day, andgave me back my wife unhurt. This I will remember as long as my daysendure, and I will serve the nation faithfully till death, and onceagain it shall be said far and wide: as faithful and true as a Jew!"
"Mayst thou not reap ingratitude where thou sowest gratitude,
" saidJochem, preparing to go; "it seems to me that the time will come, whenI shall again sue for Miriam--for the last time. Perhaps, father Isaac,thou wilt then be less proud." And he went through Miriam's chamber anddown the steps, where he met Totila.
With an ungracious bow and a piercing look, the little man pressedpast the slender Goth, who was obliged to stoop, as he entered thewarder's dwelling.
Miriam followed Totila immediately.
"There hangs your gardener's dress," said she in a melodious voice,without raising her long lashes, "and here in the window I have placedthe flowers ready. You said lately that she loved the white narcissus.I have taken care to procure some. They smell so sweet!"
"You are a good little maiden, Miriam," said Totila, taking off hishelmet with the silver-white swan's wings, and setting it upon thetable. "Where is your father?"
"The blessing of the Lord rest upon thy golden locks," said the oldman, as he entered the room.
"Good even, faithful Isaac!" cried Totila, taking off the long whitemantle which hung from his shoulders, and enveloping himself in a browncloak, which Miriam took down from the wall. "You good people! withoutyou and your faithful silence, all Neapolis would know of my secret.How can I thank you!"
"Thank?" said Miriam, fixing her beaming eyes upon him, "you havethanked us beforehand to all eternity!"
"No, Miriam," said Totila, pulling a broad-brimmed brown felt hat lowdown upon his forehead, "that was nothing. Tell me, father Isaac, whois that little man who just went away, and whom I have often met here?It seems to me that he has cast his eyes upon Miriam. Speak frankly. Ifa dowry is wanting--I would gladly be of use."
"Love is wanting--on her side," said Isaac quietly,
"Then I can certainly do no good! But if her heart has chosenelsewhere--I should like to do something for my Miriam!" and he laidhis hand gently upon the maiden's shining hair.
The touch was but slight, but as if a flash of lightning had startledher, Miriam fell suddenly upon her knees. Her head sank upon her bosom,and, crossing her arms, she slipped down at Totila's feet like a flowerheavy with dew.
Totila drew back a step in surprise. But the next moment the girl hadrisen.
"Forgive, it was only a rose--it fell at your feet," She placed theflower upon the table, and seemed so composed, that neither her fathernor Totila thought further of the occurrence. "It is growing darkalready; make haste, sir!" she said quietly, and gave him a basketcontaining flowers and plants.
"I go. Valeria is very thankful for all your kindness. I have told hera great deal about you, and she has long wished to see you. Well,perhaps we can soon manage it--to-day is, probably, the last time thatI shall need this disguise."
"Do you mean to carry off the daughter of Edom?" cried the old man."Bring her here! here she will be well hidden!"
"No," interposed Miriam, "not here! no, no!"
"Why not, thou strange child?" asked her father in a tone of annoyance.
"This is no place for a bride--this chamber--it would bring her noblessing."
"Be not uneasy," said Totila, as he went to the door, "I shall soonput an end to secrecy by sueing for her hand openly. Farewell!" Hehastened out.
Isaac took the spear, the horn, and several keys from the wall, andfollowed in order to open the gate for Totila, and make the round ofall the doors of the great tower.
Miriam remained alone.
For a long time she stood with closed eyes motionless on the same spot.
At last she passed both hands over her forehead and cheeks, and lookedabout her.
The room was very quiet; through the open window stole the first beamof moonlight. It fell silvery upon Totila's white mantle, which hung inlong folds over a chair. Miriam ran and covered the hem of the mantlewith burning kisses. She took the glittering helmet, which stood nearher upon the table, and pressed it tenderly to her heart with botharms. Then holding it a little way from her, she gazed upon it dreamilyfor a few moments, and, at last--she could not resist--she lifted it upand placed it upon her lovely head. She started as the heavy bronzetouched her forehead, and then, stroking back her dark braids, shepressed the cold hard steel firmly upon her brow. She then took it off,and set it, looking shyly round, in its former place, and going tothe window she looked out into the magic moonlight and the scentednight-air. Her lips moved as if in prayer, but the words of the prayerwere the same old song:
"By the waters of Babylon We sat down and wept. O daughter of Zion, when comes the day Which stills thy heavy pain?"