CHAPTER XIX.
IN JERUSALEM.
Among those who watched the approach of Judas and his host to Jerusalemwere two men, one in extreme old age, the other numbering, it would seem,about fifty years. They wore the priestly garments, old indeed andthreadbare, but still clean and showing many signs of careful repair.Theirs was a strange history. For two years they had been in hiding in thecity. When Apollonius had filled the streets of Jerusalem with blood, themurderers had sought with especial care for all priests and Levites. Tothem at least no mercy was to be shown. These two men--Shemaiah was thename of the elder of the two, and Joel that of the younger--had narrowlyescaped death from the soldiers of Apollonius. They had taken refuge--soclose was the pursuit--in a garden, the gate of which happened to be open,and had hidden themselves in the bushes till nightfall. Where they were,who or of what race was the owner of the house, whether they were likelyto meet with more mercy from his hands than they could expect from thesoldiers, they knew not. But that hiding-place was their only chance, andin their desperate strait they snatched at it. While they were debating inwhispers whether they should throw themselves on the compassion of thisunknown person, they saw--for it was a moonlight night--the figure of awoman walking down a path which passed close by their hiding-place. Theycould see from her features, which the brilliant moonlight of the Eastlighted up, that she was a countrywoman of their own, and they resolved toappeal to her for protection. Shemaiah, whose age and venerable appearancewould, they judged, be less likely to alarm, threw himself on the groundat her feet. She started back in astonishment.
"Lady," he said, "I see that you are a daughter of Abraham. Can you helptwo servants of the Lord that have so far escaped from the sword of theGreeks?"
She was reassured by a nearer view of the speaker. "Who are you?" shesaid. "Speak without fear, for there is no one to harm you."
Shemaiah told his story.
"And your companion," said Eglah--for that was the woman's name--"where ishe?"
The old man called to Joel, who came forth at his bidding from hishiding-place.
Eglah stood for a few minutes buried in thought. Then she spoke.
"As I hope that the Lord will have mercy on me and pardon my sin, so willI help you even to the giving up of my life. But I am not worthy that youshould come under my roof. Now listen to my story. When Antiochus--the Lordreward him for the evil that he has done to His people!--came to this city,I was seized and sold for a slave. And a certain Greek soldier, Glaucus byname, the captain of a company, bought me in the market. He had compassionon me, and dealt honourably with me, and made me his wife after thefashion of his people. And I consented to live with him, though I knewthat it was a sin for a daughter of Abraham to be wife unto a man that wasa heathen. But alas! sirs, what was I to do? for I was a weak woman, andthere was no one to help me. Should I have slain him in his sleep, asJudith slew Holofernes? Once I thought to do so, and I took a dagger in myhand, but when I saw him I repented. Whether it was fear or love thatturned me I know not. That I was afraid I know, for the very sight of thesteel made me tremble. And I must confess that I loved him also, for hehad been very kind and gentle with me; and there is not a goodlier man tolook at in all Jerusalem."
"Be comforted, my daughter," said Shemaiah, whose years had taught him atolerance to which his younger companion had, perhaps, scarcely attained."'Tis at least no sin for a wife to love her husband."
"Then you do not think me so wicked as to be beyond all hope?" cried poorEglah, eagerly.
"Nay, my daughter," said the old man; "you were in a sore strait, and allwomen are not as Judith was."
"Then you will not refuse to come into my house? I have a large cellarwhere you can lie hid. 'Tis under the ground, indeed, but airy and dry,and you can make shift to live there. And I will feed you as best I may.My husband has an open hand, and never makes any question as to the moneythat I spend upon the house, and he will not know what I have done. Ijudge it best to keep the thing from him, not because I fear that he wouldbetray you--for he is an honourable man and kindly, but it would go hardwith him, being an officer in the army of the King, if it should bediscovered that he knew it."
And so for two years Shemaiah and Joel had inhabited the cellar in Eglah'shouse. Glaucus, the husband, was just the kindly, generous man whom hiswife had described. Once or twice he had terrified her by some jokingremark about the rapidity with which the provision purchased for the housedisappeared. "When we dine together, my darling," he said, on oneoccasion, "you eat what would be scarce enough for a well-favoured fly;but I am glad to think that you are hungry at other times." "O husband,"she said, "there are many poor of my own people, and I cannot deny them."She hoped as she said it that the falsehood would not be counted asanother sin against her. "Nay, nay, darling," said the good-natured man."Give as much as thou wilt. Thank the gods and his Highness the King Ihave enough and to spare."
Glaucus, though allowed to live in his own house, had, of course, to spendmuch time upon his military duties, and was, consequently, often away.During his absence Eglah could bring out the two prisoners from theirunderground lodging, and allow them to enjoy the fresh air of the garden,which, happily, was not overlooked. She gave them the best food that hermeans would procure, and at the same time took pains, as has been said, tokeep their garments scrupulously clean and neat. On the whole they passedthe time of their captivity in tolerable comfort, and without much injuryto their health. Latterly they had been cheered by the tidings, alwaysgiven to them at the very earliest opportunity by their hostess, of thesuccesses of Judas. Within the last few days Glaucus had told his wifethat a decisive battle was expected, that it would probably be fought atBeth-zur, and that if her countrymen won it, there was nothing that couldhinder them from taking possession of Jerusalem.
Glaucus, who held a command in the garrison of the fort, had not been withLysias at Beth-zur, but he had heard late on the evening of the day of theresult of the battle and had, of course, told it to his wife, and she inturn had communicated it to her inmates. They had been scarcely able tosleep for joy, and had eagerly waited for news of the conqueror'sapproach. Evening was come, and Eglah had not paid them the accustomedvisit. The house was curiously silent; all day not a sound of voices orsteps had reached their ears. And now the suspense had become unbearable."Go forth," said Shemaiah to his younger companion, "go forth, and bringme word again." Joel crept out of his retreat. The streets were deserted;but the fortress was crowded. The garrison stood thickly clustered on thewalls, and with them were many inhabitants of the city. It was easy toguess that what Glaucus had foretold had happened. Judas was on his way totake possession of Jerusalem, and all who had compromised themselves byresisting him, had either fled from the place altogether or had takenrefuge in the fort. He returned to Shemaiah with a description of what hehad seen, and the two at once hastened down to the walls to greet thedeliverers.
The sun was near its setting when they entered the city. Without turningto the right or left, though many must have been consumed with anxiety tohear the fate of kinsmen and friends, they marched to Mount Sion. It wasan hour of triumph, the fruition of hopes passionately cherished throughmany a dark day of sorrow. To stand once more in the place which God hadchosen to set His name there, how glorious. But it had its bitterness, assuch hours will have, for it was a miserable sight that greeted them.Nothing, indeed, had been done of which they had not heard. There wasnothing that they might not have expected or foreseen. Yet the actual viewof the holy place in its dismal forlornness overpowered them. It was as ifthe sight had come upon them by surprise. "When they saw the Sanctuarydesolate and the altar profaned, and the gates burnt with fire, and shrubsgrowing in the courts as in a forest or one of the mountains, and thechambers of the priests pulled down, they rent their clothes, and madegreat lamentations, and cast ashes upon their heads, and fell down flat tothe ground upon their faces."
To repair this ruin, to put a
n end to this desolation, to purify the placewhich had been so shamefully polluted, was the first duty of thedeliverers. But that the work might be done in peace it was necessary thatthe fortress of Acra, to use military language, should be masked. A strongforce was told off to perform this duty; the rest would lend their aid tothe great work of purification.
The Hammer: A Story of the Maccabean Times Page 21