CHAPTER XXVIII.
UNITED IN THE GRAVE.
Lycidas dared not at first break to Zarah the mournful truth that oneblow had bereft her of both her protectors, that she was now indeed anorphan, and alone in the world. Zarah saw that her father was dead,but believed that Hadassah had swooned. The subdued wail of Anne overthe corpse of her mistress, first revealed to the bereaved girl thefull extent of her loss. Its greatness, its suddenness, almost stunnedher; it was a paralyzing grief.
But this was no time for lamentation or wail. Lycidasremembered--though Zarah herself for the moment entirely forgot it--herimminent personal peril should she be discovered and arrested by theSyrians. To save her precious life, was now the Greek's most anxiouscare. He tried to persuade her to fly; but even his entreaties couldnot draw the mourner from the dead bodies of Hadassah and Pollux. Itseemed as if Zarah could understand nothing but the greatness of herbereavements. A terrible fear arose in the mind of the Greek that allthat the maiden had undergone during the last two days had unsettledher reason.
"What can be done!" exclaimed Lycidas, almost in despair; "if theSyrians find her here, she is lost. The city will soon be astir;already I hear the sound of hoofs!"
A man, leading a large mule with two empty panniers, appeared, trudgingon his solitary way. As he approached the spot, Lycidas to hisinexpressible relief recognized in him Joab, a man whose countenancewas never likely to be forgotten by him--being connected with one ofthe most exciting passages in the life of the young Athenian.
"Ha! the lady Hadassah!" exclaimed the muleteer, in a tone of surpriseand regret, as his eye fell on the lifeless body, round which Zarah wasclinging, with her face buried in the folds of its garments.
"I have seen you before; I know you to be a good man and true," saidLycidas, hurriedly. "You risked your life to bury the martyrs, youwill help us now in this our sore need. Assist us to lift these bodieson your mule, and take them as secretly and as swiftly as we may to thehouse of Hadassah."
"I would risk anything for my old mistress," said Joab; "but as for yonsilken-clad Syrian, I care not to burden my beast with his carcass."The muleteer looked with stern surprise on the corpse of Pollux. "Whois he," continued Joab, "and how comes he to be clasped in the arms ofthe Lady Hadassah?"
"My father--he is my father!" sobbed Zarah.
"Raise them both," said Lycidas; "we cannot divide them, and there isnot a moment to be lost."
The united efforts of the party hardly sufficed to raise the two bodiesto the back of the mule, which, though a large and powerful animal,could scarcely carry the double burden. Joab took his large coarsemantle, and threw it over the corpses to hide them, then taking hisbeast by the halter, led it forward in silence.
"Is there no danger from him?" said Anna to Lycidas, pointing toLysimachus, who lay senseless and bleeding, his head having come intoviolent collision with a stone.
By a brief examination Lycidas satisfied himself that the courtier wasindeed in a state of unconsciousness, and knew nothing of what waspassing around him. The Athenian then went up to Zarah, who, droopinglike a broken lily, was slowly following the corpses of her parent andhis mother. Lycidas offered her what support he could give; Zarah didnot, could not reject it. A deadness seemed coming over her brain andheart; had not Lycidas upheld the poor girl, she must have dropped bythe wayside.
With what strange emotions did Lycidas through life remember that earlywalk in Jerusalem! The being whom he loved best was leaning upon him,too much exhausted to decline his aid; there was thrilling happiness inbeing so near her; but the uppermost feelings in the mind of Lycidaswere agonising fear upon Zarah's account, and intense impatience toreach some place of safety. Fearfully slow to Lycidas appeared theprogress of the heavily-laden mule, terribly long the way that wastraversed. The muleteer purposely avoided that which would have beenmost direct; he dared not go through one of the city gates, but passedout into the open country at a spot little frequented, where a part ofthe wall of Jerusalem still lay in ruins, as it had been left byApollonius. Most unwelcome to Lycidas was the brightening day, whichawoke the world to life. Every human form, even that of a child, wasto him an object of alarm. The brave young Greek was full of terrorsfor one who in her grief had lost the sense of personal fear.
Partly owing to the skilful selection of paths by Joab, partly owing tothe circumstance of the day being still so young, the party did notmeet many persons on their way, and these few were of poorer class,early commencing their morning toils. Inquiring glances were cast atthe singular cortege, but at that time of bondage and peril, a commonsense of misery and danger taught caution and repressed curiosity.
Only once was a question asked of the muleteer.
"What have you there, Joab, under yon mantle?" inquired a woman with alarge jar on her head, who stopped to survey the strange burden of themule.
"A ripe sheaf of the first-fruits, a wave-offering, Deborah," repliedJoab, with significance.
"There will be more, many more, cut down soon," replied the womangloomily; "may desolation overtake the Syrian reapers!"
Joab saw the Athenian's look of apprehension. "Fear not, stranger," hesaid; "no Hebrew will betray us; Deborah is true as steel, and knows mewell."
There is little of twilight in Judaea; day leaps almost at a bound uponhis throne. The world was bathed in sunshine long before theslowly-moving party reached the lonely dwelling amongst the hills. Howthankful was Lycidas for the seclusion of that wild spot, which seemedas if it had been chosen for purpose of concealment! Hadassah had leftthe door fastened when she had quitted the place on the precedingmorning, full of anxious terrors on account of the peril of Zarah; butAnna had charge of the key. With what thankful joy would the Hebrewwidow have for the last time crossed that threshold in life, could shehave foreseen that her child would so soon return in safety, albeit asa mourner, following Hadassah's own corpse!
The two bodies were reverentially laid on mats on the floor of thedwelling. Lycidas then went outside the door with Joab, to make sucharrangements as circumstances permitted for the burial, which,according to the custom of the land, rendered necessary by the climate,must take place very soon. Joab undertook to find those who would aidhim in digging a grave close to that of the martyrs, and promised tocome for the bodies an hour after midnight. Lycidas drew forth gold,but the Hebrew refused to take it.
"To bury the martyred dead is a pious office and acceptable to the MostHigh," said the brave muleteer; "but as for yon Syrian, son though hemay be of the Lady Hadassah, I care not to lay his bones amongst thoseof martyrs. I trow he was nothing but a traitor."
"He died by the hand of a Syrian, he died saving a Hebrew maiden, hedied in his mother's arms," said Lycidas, with tender regard for thefeelings of Zarah, who would he knew be sensitive in regard to respectpaid to the corpse of her parent. "Deny him not a grave with hispeople."
Joab merely shrugged his shoulders in reply, laid his hand on thehalter of his mule, and departed.
On the following night, Lycidas found himself again in thatolive-girdled spot which he had such reason to remember. He stoodunder that tree behind the bending trunk of which he had crouched forconcealment on the night when he had first seen Zarah.
The ground was very hard from the long drought. Joab, and twocompanions whom he had brought to assist in the perilous service, hadmuch difficulty in preparing a grave.
"We need the strong arm of Maccabeus here," observed one of the men,stopping to brush the beaded drops from his brow.
"Maccabeus is employed in making graves for his enemies, not for hisfriends," was the muleteer's stern reply.
Thick heavy clouds obscured the starless sky, not a breath of wind wasstirring, the air felt oppressively close and sultry even at the hourof midnight. A single torch was all the light which the grave-diggersdared to employ while engaged on their dangerous work. In almostperfect darkness were the remains of Hadassah and her unhappy sonlowered into the dust. There was
no silver moonlight streaming betweenthe stems of the olives, as on the occasion of the martyrs' burial, norwas Zarah present to throw flowers into the open grave. With her thepowers of nature had given way under the prolonged strain which theyhad had to endure; the poor girl lay in her desolate home, too ill tobe even conscious of the removal from it of the remains over which shehad watched and mourned as long as she had been capable of doing either.
It was strange to Lycidas to be, as it were, only representative ofHadassah's family at the funeral of herself and her son,--he, who wasnot only no relative, but a foreigner in blood, and in religion analien; but it was a privilege which he valued very highly, and which hewould not have resigned to have held the chief place in the mostpompous ceremonial upon earth.
As soon as the displaced earth had been thrown back into the grave ofHadassah and her Abner, the night-clouds burst, and down came the longlonged-for, long-desired latter rains. The parched dry sod seemed todrink in new life; the shrivelled foliage revived, all nature rejoicedin the gift from heaven. When the sun rose over the hills, water wasagain trickling from the stream behind the dwelling of Hadassah; theoleanders were not yet dead, they would bloom into beauty again.