CHAPTER XIV.
THE BURIAL OF MATTATHIAS.
Judas and his brothers sat late into the night consulting about a daringscheme which the new captain of the host proposed.
"It would be an unseemly thing," he said, "that Mattathias, the son ofAsmon, should be thrust into a hole among the rocks as if he were anoutcast or a robber. Verily we will bury him with his fathers in thesepulchre of Asmon."
"'Twill be no easy matter to contrive," said Jonathan, the man of manydevices. "The sepulchre is hard by the town, and we can scarcely avoid theeyes of the people in coming and going."
"Nay, Jonathan, I have no purpose of doing the thing in secret. It wouldnot be well to bury my father by stealth in his own sepulchre. It shall bedone openly, and before the eyes of men."
The brothers, bold men as they were, were astonished at the hardihood ofthe plan. But their respect for the genius of Judas silenced anyopposition. And then he had never failed in any enterprise. John was thefirst to speak.
"'Tis well thought of, Judas. Lead the way, and I follow;" and he claspedhis brother's hand.
The captain then developed his plan, which, when examined, seemed lessaudacious than it had appeared at first sight. It was to be a surprise,and the very unlikelihood of the attempt made its success more probable.Modin was not occupied by a garrison, and the townsfolk, even if theirgoodwill could not be counted on, would scarcely venture to resist. Onlyit would be necessary to act before any rumour of their intention couldget about, and, the funeral march once begun, to hasten it to a completionas much as possible.
The body was at once preserved against decay as far as the scanty means atthe command of the patriots would allow. Then word was sent through theencampment that all who wished to take their last look at the dead heromust come at once. For three hours a constant stream of awestruck andweeping visitors passed through the tent in which he lay, attired in hispriestly garb, the long white beard reaching almost to his waist, hiswasted features settled into the majestic repose of death. Every visitoras he entered loosed his sandals from his feet, feeling that the placewhich he was entering was holy ground. Every one, as he took his last lookon the hero's face, prayed to the God of his fathers that his last endmight be like his. Women brought their children that they might kiss thehem of his garment. It would be a distinction to them in their old agethat they had been privileged to pay this honour to Mattathias, the son ofAsmon.
Before dawn the procession started. The body, in its rude coffin of wood,was placed upon a bier, thirty bearers taking it in turns to carry it. Thethirty were divided into five relays of six, one of the sons of the deadbeing always among those who performed the duty. With the exception of asmall force which was left for the protection of the women and children,all the fighting men of the settlement accompanied the body. In spite ofthe efforts which had been made to procure or manufacture arms, they werestill but poorly equipped. Of military display, of the "pomp andcircumstance of glorious war," there was absolutely nothing. But the solidqualities of endurance and courage could be seen in their sinewy forms andresolute faces. To an observer who could look below the surface thatsqualid array had in it the capacity for achieving an heroic success.
Judas had been quite right in predicting that the expedition would meetwith little or no opposition. Its march, indeed, was absolutely unmolestedby the enemy. The movement was wholly unexpected, and consequently noforce had been collected to hinder it; while the garrisons of the two orthree fortified places which the army passed on its route did not feelthemselves strong enough to attempt any attack. Already, though as yet nopitched battle had been fought, these Jewish "Ironsides" had inspiredtheir enemies with a wholesome dread of their prowess. Both Greeks andrenegades knew that these ragged, ill-armed mountaineers stood as stoutlyand plied their swords as fiercely as any soldiers in the world.
No incident occurred in the course of the march save one, which, thoughlittle thought of at the time, was destined to lead to events ofconsiderable importance. When the first halt was called, Benjamin, who wasa well-known personage in the neighbourhood, and who in spite, perhaps inconsequence, of his antecedents enjoyed not a little popularity, foundentertainment in the house of an old acquaintance. The man was a farmer,who had been accustomed to make a handsome profit by supplying the banditswith useful information. Recognizing his old accomplice in the ranks ofthe patriot army, he invited him into his house, and entertained him withhis best. Unfortunately this best happened to be some salted swine'sflesh. Benjamin had some scruple about eating it; but it was not strongenough to resist the claims of a ravenous hunger, supported as they wereby his entertainer's ridicule. The meal was washed down by the contents oftwo or three flasks of potent wine, and the friends were so busilyoccupied with discussing these, and with talking over old times, that thesignal for assembly passed unnoticed. Then followed a search forstragglers, and Benjamin was discovered with the fragments of his mealbefore him; and though his hunger had stripped the bones bare enough, noone could doubt what was the animal to which they had belonged.
The offender had been caught, so to speak, red-handed, and some voiceswere raised to demand his instant execution. But the officer in command ofthe detachment interposed. In any case he would have objected to aproceeding of which Judas would certainly have disapproved, and he hadbesides a certain kindness for Benjamin, of whose courage and dexterity hehad been more than once a witness. Accordingly the offender was put underclose arrest, and the army resumed its march.
Benjamin had no need to be told that he was in very serious danger. TheChasidim, at least, would be more ready to overlook fifty thefts than onetransgression in the matter of unclean food; and he felt sure that if hecould not contrive to escape before the army returned to the encampment,possibly before they reached Modin, his days were numbered. While he wasmeditating on the chances of escape, one of the escort, an associate offormer days, was thinking how he could help him. Happening to be in frontof the prisoner, he purposely stumbled and fell. The prisoner fell overhim, and in the confusion the soldier cut the cords that bound Benjamin'shands. The prisoner was not a man to lose such an opportunity. Waitingtill he reached a convenient spot on the march, he shook off his bonds,sprang to the side of the road, and, before his keepers could recover fromtheir astonishment, was lost to sight in the woods which bordered it.
When the army reached Modin no attempt was made to interfere with itsproceedings. Our old acquaintance, Cleon, had been sent to replace thecommissioner killed when Mattathias raised the standard of revolt, andCleon was far too careful of himself to risk his safety in any foolhardystruggle against superior strength. When the body of armed men was firstseen approaching the town, he had supposed that its object was to possessitself of any money, arms, or provisions that might be found in the place.A nearer view showed the funeral procession, and one of the townspeoplewas acute enough to guess the real purpose of the expedition. Cleon'sresolve was at once taken. He would make the best of circumstances whichhe could not control. Accordingly he went out of the town with a flag oftruce in his hand, and meeting the vanguard of the approaching array,demanded an interview with its leader.
He was brought into the presence of Judas.
"May I ask," he said, "the purpose of your coming?"
"We are come to bury Mattathias, son of Asmon, in the sepulchre of hisfathers," was the brief reply.
"And you, sir," continued the Greek, with elaborate courtesy, "may I askto whom I am speaking?"
"I am Judas, son of Mattathias."
"Allow me, then," answered Cleon, "to express my sympathy with you in theloss of so renowned a father, once, I believe, a distinguished citizen ofthis place, and to assure you that you will meet with no molestation inwhatever honours you may see fit to render to his memory. I would myselfwillingly attend the obsequies, did I suppose that my presence would bewelcome."
"We thank you, sir," said Judas, who was inwardly chafing at thishypocritical po
liteness, but disdained to show his feelings; "we wouldsooner be alone."
Cleon saluted and withdrew.
The funeral ceremonies were performed with an impressive solemnity. Thestone which closed the entrance to the family tomb of the house of Asmonhad been rolled away, and the dead body was placed in the niche which hadbeen long ago prepared for its reception. Only the sons of Mattathias anda few of their best trusted counsellors and lieutenants entered the cave;the rest of the multitude stood without, waiting in profound silence tillthey should be told that the old warrior had been laid in his lastresting-place.
When the cave had been closed again John, as the eldest son of thedeceased, spoke a few words to the army.
"We have buried our dead," he said, "out of our sight; but his memorylives and will live among us. Let us be true and faithful as he was, thatwe may be with him when he shall rise again at the last day, and sit downwith Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob at the supper of the people of God.Meanwhile let us follow and obey him whom with his last breath he named ashis successor. Long live Judas, son of Mattathias, son of Asmon, thecaptain of the host of the Lord!"
And all the army shouted their approval.
Cleon had followed up his courtesies by an invitation addressed to Judasand his principal officers, in which he begged the honour of their companyat a meal. Judas declined the invitation, but intimated that he wouldgladly purchase a supply of corn. The commissioner, well aware that hisguests could take by force anything that was refused to them, at onceacceded to the request, and Micah was selected, on account of hisfamiliarity with the Greek language, to conduct the transaction.
The details of the business arranged with the commissioner's secretary,Micah received a message from the great man himself, begging for thepleasure of an interview.
"What!" cried Cleon, affecting a surprise which he did not really feel,"is this my old friend Menander whom I see?"
"My name is Micah," said the Jew, not without a feeling of disgust andshame as his mind reverted to the past.
"As you please," said Cleon. "By whatever name you may please to callyourself, I hope that we shall always be good friends. But tell me, whatis the meaning of this disguise?"
"I know not what you mean by disguise."
"I mean these rags, which a scarecrow would hardly condescend to wear;that battered helmet, which looks as if the boys had been kicking it for amonth about the market-place; that deplorably shabby sword, which even arag-and-bone man would be ashamed to hang up in his shop. Is this theelegant Menander--I beg your pardon, the elegant Micah, who was once thevery pink of neatness and fashion?"
"As for my past follies, you may laugh at them as you will, nor can I denythat you are in the right. But of these rags, as you are pleased to callthem, of these shabby arms, I am not ashamed. I have come to myself. Thethings that I once prized I count as dung, and for that which I oncedespised I would gladly die."
"Why, what madness is this? What have you got to live for? How can yousupport existence among this deplorable crew of beggars and outlaws, withnot a man among them, I will warrant, who has the least taste of culture,or the faintest tincture of art?"
"These 'beggars and outlaws,' as you call them, are the soldiers of theLord; and you will find that they are enemies not to be despised, thatthese battered helmets can turn a blow, and these jagged swords can dealone that will make its way through all your finery."
"But, my dear friend--I may call you so, I suppose, in spite of any littledifference of opinion there may be between us?"
The Jew made no motion of assent.
"Well, you cannot be deceiving yourself as to the utter hopelessness ofyour attempt. Why, when you come to meet our troops in regular battle, youwill disappear like chaff before the wind. You may take a few places bysurprise, but you have no more chance of winning a regular victory than adove has of killing a kite. Come now, be reasonable; give up this sillyaffair, and be my guest, till we can find something suitable for you todo. I will set you up with some new clothes, to which you are perfectlywelcome. And I will warrant that in a few days you will be wondering thatyou were ever foolish enough to undertake such a wildgoose business asthis."
"Your gifts be to yourself. Nay, Cleon," he soon went on to say, in asofter tone, "I would not speak harshly to you for the sake of oldkindnesses which I doubt not you meant well in showing me. But be surethat I am in earnest. The old things are hateful to me. I have otherdesires, other hopes; and if they are not satisfied, not fulfilled, I canat least die for them."
"Die for them, indeed! _That_, my dear Micah, is only too likely, and die,I am afraid, in an exceedingly unpleasant way. It is simple madness tosuppose that a crowd of ragamuffins, under a general--Apollo save themark!--who has never seen a battle, can stand against the troops of theKing. You used to be a very good fellow, Menander or Micah, or whateveryou call yourself, but, as sure as you are sitting there, if you go on inthis mad fashion, I shall have the pain of seeing you some day hanging ona cross."
At the sound of the word the young Jew started as if he had been stabbed.It opened the way for a flood of memories which, for a while, carried himout of himself. When he could command himself sufficiently to speak, heburst out--
"Yes--hanging on a cross! Nothing more likely if only you and your friendsget their way. You talk of taste, and art, and beauty: you have alwaysplenty of fine words on your tongues, but when it comes to practice youare as brutal as the fiercest of the savages whom you profess todespise--nay, you are ten times worse, for you know what you are doing.Now, listen to me, Cleon. Some six months ago I was walking throughJerusalem after your teachers of culture and art had been busy givingtheir lessons. What think you I saw? I saw a woman hanging on a cross, andher little son, a babe of a few days old, fastened about her neck. ThankGod they were dead. Some one of your people had in mercy--for you are notaltogether without mercy--strangled her before they fastened her to thecross. And what was her offence? Was she unchaste, a thief, a murderer?Not so; no purer, gentler soul ever lived on the earth. No, she had donefor her son as her fathers for a thousand years and more had done fortheir sons. And this was how your prophets of refinement and beauty dealtwith her. Cleon, that woman was my sister. Do you think that such deeds asthat will go unpunished? Surely not; whether your faith--if you have afaith--or mine be true, there is a vengeance that follows--slow, it may be,but sure of foot--the men who work such wickedness. And, for my part, Idoubt not who the first minister of that vengeance will be. You sneer atour general; he is no general at all, you think; a mere leader ofvagabonds, who has never seen a battle. He will see many a battle, yea,and the back of many a foe, before his work is done. He is a very Hammerof God, and he will break his enemies to pieces. And now, Cleon, hearkenagain to me. You and I have broken bread together as friends. That is pastfor ever. May the God of my fathers send down upon me all the plagues thatHe holds in the vials of His wrath, if I have any truce with the enemiesof His people! But with you, as I would not join hands in friendship, so Iwould not cross them in anger. Pray, therefore, to your gods, as I willcertainly pray to Him whom I worship, that we may never see each otheragain. And now farewell!"
The expedition returned to the mountains without mishap.