The Lost City

by Carrie E. Gruhn

  “Oh, it does, it does! But then, Lilah must have been seeking, too, and she must have found Him?” I could not keep the question from my voice. Surely she alone, of all who had come to the city, seemed to be less full of praise and singing, but then she had weighty things on her mind. She had little time for singing and for testifying. She was busy from morning till night and surely she would not be here if she did not share our hope and our new found faith.

  “I still think you are worrying about what amounts to nothing. Lilah has always been infatuated by Paul, but she always will want the unattainable. That is what makes her such a good leader. She refuses to see obstacles except as they make reaching a goal more interesting. Maybe she even loves Paul, but does that necessarily mean that Paul loves her in return?”

  “But Mother, he does. I tried not to see it—I wouldn’t believe her when she said that he did—but I read a letter he had written to her. You would believe what he said, wouldn’t you?”

  My words startled my serene mother. It was a moment before she replied, slowly and thoughtfully,

  “Perhaps, but tell me, how did you come to read the letter?”

  “I didn’t know it was not my letter, Mother, not until it was too late. Somehow it was stuck to the letter Paul wrote me and sent by her. I read the first then naturally opened that one, too. Oh, Mother!” I could not go on as remembrance of the words, that had so thrilled me with their messages of love and the subsequent heartbreak, came sharp and clear, again.

  “Are you sure it was from Paul—to her?”

  “Do you think I do not know Paul’s writing?” She was silent. I went on through the tears that choked me. “There were other things, too. He called her his happiness—me his chain! Mother, Mother! What have I done to him?”

  Mother’s arms tightened, smothering my sobs against her soft gown. “It still doesn’t make sense—yes, I know Paul would feel bound if he knew you loved him and wanted to keep the bargain all the way through—but there was the love he could not keep from his eyes when he looked at you.”

  “Like a brother looking at his sister!” scornfully I answered.

  “Perhaps. But if he went through with the bargain he would not let himself fall in love with another. Paul has been too wise, too kind, in your own words, little Tanya, and he is both those things and more. He is sensible and steady. He would have recognized the danger and turned his back on it in time.”

  “Didn’t he leave her in Jerusalem and only went back when he had to? I thought it was because he hated to leave—to leave me and Toni—but it was because he was afraid to see her!”

  “Then he would have been careful to avoid her—”

  “Can the bit of steel refuse to go to the magnet? No more could he keep away from her and she would not let him. She told me more than once that she wanted him and intended getting him. I thought it was cheap and—and boasting but now I know it was just that she loved him so much she couldn’t help it. She seems different now. When she talked like that she would have showed that letter to me herself—but now when she knew that I had read it she was afraid and worried—”

  I felt Mother straighten, “Tanya, that’s it! Of course that’s it. Maybe he did write that letter to her, but you do not know when he wrote it!”

  “What difference would it make when he wrote it?” I asked dully.

  “Don’t you see, Tanya, he might have written that sort of letter before he turned to God, but he has given himself so wholeheartedly to God and to his Saviour surely he could not disobey God’s commandment concerning marriage!”

  “I tried to think that, too. But don’t you see he loved her before that—accepting Jesus only tightened the chains I had forged around him. It’s all my fault and I do not know what to do!”

  “You have grown up a great deal, Tanya. You have learned at last to think of others. I am glad that you can think about the hurt this could be doing to them and not just yourself—but I still think it would make a great deal of difference when he wrote the letter. When we are young we often write foolish, harmless love letters which later we regret or laugh at. And we stay young a long time. You do not know about that because you were denied even the dreams of childhood. You say that it was a long time before the marriage became a true marriage. Perhaps it was then that he came to love Lilah and wrote the letter to her.”

  “Don’t you see that would only make it worse—I mean he was still really free until I—I wanted to make it otherwise. It was I who went to him, Mother, not he to me.”

  “Was he not glad when you came?”

  “He seemed glad. But—”

  “Tanya! Listen to me. Even Paul, as wonderful as you think he is, would not have been able to hide dismay if he saw the door being closed forever on a love he really cherished. No, Tanya, I will not deny the possibility of the letter, and even of a sort of love between them but the love I saw in Paul’s face was not that of a brother. You forget that you had brothers and that they loved you deeply, but never did they look at you with that same look which your father gave to me—and that was the kind of love that shone in Paul’s eyes for you alone! Put aside your foolish worries and do not begrudge Paul youthful fancies just because you could not share all of them. You read a letter written by Paul to Lilah—but if he remembers writing it, he remembers with sheepish chagrin that he ever thought he loved another than you, his wife!”

  There was a finality and sureness in her words and in the quiet way she took her arms from about me that made me dry my tears. I wanted to believe her—I ached with the longing to believe her, but shrank again from blundering.

  “Mother, Mother! If only you could be right!” I clung to her and she bent to tuck me in and give me a kiss as if I were a little girl again.

  “Of course I am right, Tanya. Goodnight and sleep, my child.”

  Strangely I did sleep through the few hours left of the night, and on into the day that threatened to be no less dark than the night itself.

  27

  THE GRAPES RIPEN

  I CAN MANAGE THE BREAKFAST, Tanya. Why don’t you bring fresh water and see if there is any ripe fruit for this morning?”

  I welcomed the excuse to absent myself from the apartment for a little while. I knew that mother had heard Lilah stirring and was giving me a little more time to prepare for meeting her. Gladly I took a pail and basket and slipped outside. The heavy clusters of grapes hung from the young vines along the path to our spring. They had been showing their promise of color for some time. Perhaps there would be enough for breakfast. I gloried in the freshness of the morning air and felt its dewy chill set my blood racing to brighten my eyes and give color to my cheeks. Always in our valley there was a coolness which was unlike the terrific heat that scorched the higher plateaus and wilderness about us.

  There were grapes enough to fill my basket to overflowing; never had I seen such plump big ones or as sweet. I could not resist the temptation to sample them. I set the basket on the rock ledge and leaned to splash the cold water into my face before filling the pail. The sun which had been hidden behind a high pinnacle suddenly rushed upward to lean over my shoulder and fill the pool with a momentary glory. I gasped, then laughed at my temerity. The sun rose serenely and the pool was sparkling with the dancing sunbeams. Mother was right. I was given to dreaming and imaginings.

  The air was so exhilarating, so fresh and sweet, that I could not but raise my voice in praise to God. “Praise ye the Lord. Praise ye the Lord from the heavens: Praise him in the heights. Praise ye Him, all the angels: … Praise ye Him, sun and moon: and all ye stars of light … Praise the Lord from the earth, ye dragons, and all deeps: Fire and hail; snow, and vapours; stormy wind fulfilling His word: Mountains, and hills … beasts and all cattle … Kings of the earth … let them praise the name of the Lord: for His name alone is excellent; His glory is above the earth and heaven, the hills and the mountains, yea, even above the heavens. Exalt His name all ye saints; even exalt Him ye children of Israel who are near to H
is heart—Praise ye the Lord: and sing unto Him a new song. Praise Him! Praise Him! Let everything that hath breath praise the Lord! Praise ye Him!”1

  My song ended after I came into our apartment but the song echoed and soared upward to lose itself against the rock ceiling.

  “Do not blush for having welcomed the day with your song of praise, Tanya.” The Rabbi came to take the basket and to relieve my confusion. I carried the pail to its nook and hastened to help my mother dish up the breakfast and pour the hot coffee.

  “There is trouble out there, in the wadi, Tanya,” she managed to whisper into my ear, but already I had caught the disquieting news.

  “It is no wonder there have been no newcomers lately. The hills out there are crawling with soldiers!” the speaker appeared to be one of our scouts returning with a report.

  “Are they quiet or would you say they were getting ready to attack?”

  “Both, sir. The past days they have bustled and rushed around, but last night a new group of cars and tanks, came into the main part of their camp and suddenly everything became too quiet. I have a feeling that their preparations are completed and that now they are ready for attack!”

  “What do you think?” Simon turned to ask Lilah who had come from her room.

  “I’d say this was it.” She nodded thoughtfully. “But it’s what we’ve been expecting after all.” Her calmness somehow broke the uneasy spell that the scout’s words had cast over the group of men.

  “There is coffee and bread enough for all, won’t you sit down and have breakfast with us while you talk?” Mother’s gentle voice broke into the excited chatter.

  Boxes were pulled out from the corners and the men settled upon them. Lilah was about to speak when the Rabbi who still stood, raised his hand and all were silenced. Briefly, as my own head bowed, I caught a glimpse of her head, its proud lifting, of her eyes and they were cold and brimming with anger. She always would be angry when another took the lead from her in anything, I thought, then I gave my attention to the prayer which our Rabbi was lifting to God.

  Time and again, as the coffee and the bread and the cool grapes were passed, interruptions came as reports began coming swiftly. Unperturbed Lilah listened to each one and her finger moved along a map spread out on the big table. I watched fascinated as her finger traced the enemy advance. In my mind I saw again the narrow tortuous watercourse strewn with huge boulders and smaller stones. Like a long slim snake the enemy was slithering through and in upon us.

  “What time is it?” Lilah had just looked at her watch, but one after another compared his time with hers.

  “Almost the time for changing the watch,” Simon commented.

  “Maybe the ones on duty won’t come in but will stay to help the new guard.”

  “They have their orders.” Lilah’s voice was sharp. She had drilled us over and over until we had learned exactly what she wanted done, when and how. She had shown her relentless impatience often enough and more than one had felt the sting of her lashing tongue when he had dared step out of line.

  Slowly her finger moved. Surely men, although burdened with guns and ammunition, could move more swiftly than apparently they were moving! We were watching intently for the first men to come inside our lines of defense. Lilah’s finger tensed. The dark painted tip dug into the map—the first men had passed the first post!

  “Time for the post to change!” Startled eyes fled to their timepieces.

  “Good.” There was satisfaction in Lilah’s voice and she straightened to look around her appraisingly. “The ones coming off will be tired and it is better to have fresh guards for the battle. Don’t be misled—there will be a battle! Prince Damon will not have sent a fake army out here into the wilderness!” her voice rang exultantly. The time was at hand for giving proof of her planning and her right to the command, so begrudgingly accorded her.

  Another man came in. Lilah’s tapered nail tore a gash in the map. The leaders had passed the second, the third, the fourth posts. They were advancing more swiftly now as if the evil human serpent had caught the scent of its prey and knew of its helplessness. Lilah seemed to have reached a decision. She turned to study each man present briefly, then, as if satisfied, she let her glance stop on me.

  “Tanya, come with me. Simon, you come, too. I want to look at the situation and make sure for myself that everything is going all right. You others stay here where I can put my fingers on you. I may need you.” There was a high flush on her cheeks and a brilliance to her eyes that made her almost too beautifully vivid. She was revelling in this, her moment.

  “Of course, I will come.” I hesitated. Naturally I would obey her orders, yet it seemed strange that she should ask me instead of one of the experienced men. Still she had asked Simon to go.

  With difficulty Simon and I kept up with her. Another messenger met us and gave word that the oncoming army had now passed the fifth post.

  “Get everyone and keep them inside until you get my signal of all clear!” Lilah’s voice was brittle.

  There was that in her voice that gave me the first fear of that day. Surely God had not sent us here to let us be taken! I had been filled with a complete sense of peace and security since coming. I had taken part in the preparatory plans for defending the city—had acknowledged the possibility of an attempted attack—had thrilled somewhat as the army began to wind itself into the wadi knowing that there would be bloodshed and battle, but somehow I had not entertained a single doubt as to the outcome. Flimsy and foolish the rock-piles and queer assortment of firearms might be, yet they had been so placed as to be completely elective. Or, so it had been reasoned. Against armored cars and tanks, mechanized armies we would be lost, but the towering walls were too close together to allow the passage of such an army.

  A man was waiting for Lilah at the great rosy temple that guarded the portal. Barely acknowledging the greetings of the regular guards she beckoned him to her.

  “What about it, are all the posts filled as planned?” eagerly she questioned.

  “Without a hitch! Some of those whose time was up wanted to argue, but they saw the point about fresh hands and minds doing the job better than they could. Besides, in case the army keeps coming they will get their chance, too.” He grinned and Lilah smiled briefly.

  “Good! Intercept any messages and see that they are brought directly to me.” She now watched as the man saluted and went, then turning to the small group who were anxiously watching the opening in front of the cliff wall into which the temple had been carved, she commanded, “Send any messengers upstairs. Stay at your posts no matter what happens—wait for the signal before opening fire—we want as many as possible inside the wadi before we spring our surprise.” The men nodded. They had been drilled well, in fact, they were the prize defenders of our city because they had charge of the firearms and meager arsenal.

  Lilah beckoned, and still pulled I followed as she led Simon and me outside. For a moment we watched as a man’s figure came into view high on the winding path that led out to the first shelf-like post. He turned and saluted, then was lost to view. I had never been inside the temple before. Its interior had been a close-guarded secret, but I knew that within its cavernous rooms all of our ammunition and weapons were stored. There, too, were the headquarters for the not too complicated communications system. Most of the news came by messenger and scout since few radio supplies had been brought in with the more necessary foodstuffs.

  I now saw that the large door into the central chamber was half-closed by huge, heavy lead doors even thicker than the ones covering our doors inside the valley. On either side of the porch were smaller openings across which the same heavy leaden doors were hung. Toward the door on the right Lilah turned. The heavy door swung up revealing a smaller room lighted from an opening in the ceiling, through which an incongruously modern stairway disappeared.

  I looked about the small upper room curiously. Even to my uninitiated eyes there was a newness about the walls and the floors t
hat showed its more recent development. Narrow slits cast their alternate light and shadow upon the floor, the desk and the chairs with which the rooms were furnished. An intricate network of wires crisscrossed the ceiling from a corner where another man sat with his ears glued to earphones. Barely nodding toward him, Lilah hurried to the windows overlooking the cross gorge through which the enemy must come. Eagerly we followed.

  The sun lay against the rose-hued rock painting it in fairy colors, while farther down the rose shaded into purple, tinged with the green of the oleander bushes and the neutral tans and grays of the pebbled wadi-bed. An uneasy stillness lay on the narrowed picture. A small cloud lazily drifted across the strip of sky changing the marbled hues to a deep mahogany. We strained our eyes, as if by straining we could see around the many corners into the faces of the advancing men. Our ears strained, too, but heard only the faint humming of the radio equipment and the faint clicks of a coded message, coming in or going out from the operator there. Then as the sun shot its beams downward we caught the first hint that there was more to this than dreaming. The sun’s rays caught a low-hanging wisp. It was the dust raised by countless marching feet stirring the powdery sands with their shuffling, shuffling, shuffling—

  Now to the right, now to the left, sometimes lost entirely, the dust cloud came on relentlessly. I should have felt fear, but victory seemed assured beyond doubt. Let the enemy come on. When every inch of the winding wadi was finally clogged with their coming, Lilah would give the word and down upon their defenseless heads would come crashing scattered vengeance! Tons of rocks would cut them off and destroy them and any others who dared follow!

  The scout appeared and Lilah smiled as she translated his wig-wagged message. There was triumph in her face as she turned back into the room. Her fingers ran lightly along the many buttons that dotted the shelf. They were the signalling link that would set the grinding wheels turning to stem the tide that was filling the watercourse.