Ben-Hur; a tale of the Christ

by Lew Wallace

  CHAPTER IX

  Next night, about the fourth hour, Ben-Hur stood on the terraceof the great warehouse with Esther. Below them, on the landing,there was much running about, and shifting of packages and boxes,and shouting of men, whose figures, stooping, heaving, hauling,looked, in the light of the crackling torches kindled in their aid,like the laboring genii of the fantastic Eastern tales. A galleywas being laden for instant departure. Simonides had not yetcome from his office, in which, at the last moment, he woulddeliver to the captain of the vessel instructions to proceedwithout stop to Ostia, the seaport of Rome, and, after landinga passenger there, continue more leisurely to Valentia, on thecoast of Spain.

  The passenger is the agent going to dispose of the estate derivedfrom Arrius the duumvir. When the lines of the vessel are castoff, and she is put about, and her voyage begun, Ben-Hur will becommitted irrevocably to the work undertaken the night before.If he is disposed to repent the agreement with Ilderim, a littletime is allowed him to give notice and break it off. He is master,and has only to say the word.

  Such may have been the thought at the moment in his mind. He wasstanding with folded arms, looking upon the scene in the manner of aman debating with himself. Young, handsome, rich, but recently fromthe patrician circles of Roman society, it is easy to think of theworld besetting him with appeals not to give more to onerous duty orambition attended with outlawry and danger. We can even imagine thearguments with which he was pressed; the hopelessness of contentionwith Caesar; the uncertainty veiling everything connected with theKing and his coming; the ease, honors, state, purchasable likegoods in market; and, strongest of all, the sense newly acquiredof home, with friends to make it delightful. Only those who havebeen wanderers long desolate can know the power there was in thelatter appeal.

  Let us add now, the world--always cunning enough of itself; alwayswhispering to the weak, Stay, take thine ease; always presentingthe sunny side of life--the world was in this instance helped byBen-Hur's companion.

  "Were you ever at Rome?" he asked.

  "No," Esther replied.

  "Would you like to go?"

  "I think not."

  "Why?"

  "I am afraid of Rome," she answered, with a perceptible tremor ofthe voice.

  He looked at her then--or rather down upon her, for at his sideshe appeared little more than a child. In the dim light he couldnot see her face distinctly; even the form was shadowy. But againhe was reminded of Tirzah, and a sudden tenderness fell uponhim--just so the lost sister stood with him on the house-topthe calamitous morning of the accident to Gratus. Poor Tirzah!Where was she now? Esther had the benefit of the feeling evoked.If not his sister, he could never look upon her as his servant;and that she was his servant in fact would make him always themore considerate and gentle towards her.

  "I cannot think of Rome," she continued, recovering her voice,and speaking in her quiet womanly way--"I cannot think of Rome asa city of palaces and temples, and crowded with people; she is tome a monster which has possession of one of the beautiful lands,and lies there luring men to ruin and death--a monster which itis not possible to resist--a ravenous beast gorging with blood.Why--"

  She faltered, looked down, stopped.

  "Go on," said Ben-Hur, reassuringly.

  She drew closer to him, looked up again, and said, "Why must youmake her your enemy? Why not rather make peace with her, and beat rest? You have had many ills, and borne them; you have survivedthe snares laid for you by foes. Sorrow has consumed your youth;is it well to give it the remainder of your days?"

  The girlish face under his eyes seemed to come nearer and get whiteras the pleading went on; he stooped towards it, and asked, softly,"What would you have me do, Esther?"

  She hesitated a moment, then asked, in return, "Is the propertynear Rome a residence?"

  "Yes."

  "And pretty?"

  "It is beautiful--a palace in the midst of gardens and shell-strewnwalks; fountains without and within; statuary in the shady nooks;hills around covered with vines, and so high that Neapolis andVesuvius are in sight, and the sea an expanse of purpling bluedotted with restless sails. Caesar has a country-seat near-by,but in Rome they say the old Arrian villa is the prettiest."

  "And the life there, is it quiet?"

  "There was never a summer day, never a moonlit night, more quiet,save when visitors come. Now that the old owner is gone, and I amhere, there is nothing to break its silence--nothing, unless itbe the whispering of servants, or the whistling of happy birds,or the noise of fountains at play; it is changeless, except asday by day old flowers fade and fall, and new ones bud and bloom,and the sunlight gives place to the shadow of a passing cloud.The life, Esther, was all too quiet for me. It made me restlessby keeping always present a feeling that I, who have so much todo, was dropping into idle habits, and tying myself with silkenchains, and after a while--and not a long while either--would endwith nothing done."

  She looked off over the river.

  "Why did you ask?" he said.

  "Good my master--"

  "No, no, Esther--not that. Call me friend--brother, if you will; I amnot your master, and will not be. Call me brother."

  He could not see the flush of pleasure which reddened her face,and the glow of the eyes that went out lost in the void abovethe river.

  "I cannot understand," she said, "the nature which prefers thelife you are going to--a life of--"

  "Of violence, and it may be of blood," he said, completing thesentence.

  "Yes," she added, "the nature which could prefer that life to suchas might be in the beautiful villa."

  "Esther, you mistake. There is no preference. Alas! the Roman isnot so kind. I am going of necessity. To stay here is to die; and ifI go there, the end will be the same--a poisoned cup, a bravo's blow,or a judge's sentence obtained by perjury. Messala and the procuratorGratus are rich with plunder of my father's estate, and it is moreimportant to them to keep their gains now than was their gettingin the first instance. A peaceable settlement is out of reach,because of the confession it would imply. And then--then-- Ah,Esther, if I could buy them, I do not know that I would. I donot believe peace possible to me; no, not even in the sleepyshade and sweet air of the marble porches of the old villa--nomatter who might be there to help me bear the burden of the days,nor by what patience of love she made the effort. Peace is notpossible to me while my people are lost, for I must be watchful tofind them. If I find them, and they have suffered wrong, shall notthe guilty suffer for it? If they are dead by violence, shall themurderers escape? Oh, I could not sleep for dreams! Nor could theholiest love, by any stratagem, lull me to a rest which consciencewould not strangle."

  "Is it so bad then?" she asked, her voice tremulous with feeling."Can nothing, nothing, be done?"

  Ben-Hur took her hand.

  "Do you care so much for me?"

  "Yes," she answered, simply.

  The hand was warm, and in the palm of his it was lost. He felt ittremble. Then the Egyptian came, so the opposite of this littleone; so tall, so audacious, with a flattery so cunning, a wit soready, a beauty so wonderful, a manner so bewitching. He carriedthe hand to his lips, and gave it back.

  "You shall be another Tirzah to me, Esther."

  "Who is Tirzah?"

  "The little sister the Roman stole from me, and whom I must findbefore I can rest or be happy."

  Just then a gleam of light flashed athwart the terrace and fellupon the two; and, looking round, they saw a servant roll Simonidesin his chair out of the door. They went to the merchant, and in theafter-talk he was principal.

  Immediately the lines of the galley were cast off, and she swunground, and, midst the flashing of torches and the shouting ofjoyous sailors, hurried off to the sea--leaving Ben-Hur committedto the cause of the KING WHO WAS TO COME.