Hebrew Heroes: A Tale Founded on Jewish History

"Be assured, O most mighty monarch" – thus had Lysimachus addressed the

disappointed tyrant – "that had there been no sympathizers with the

Hebrew rebels in the army of the king, Giorgias would have returned to

Jerusalem with the head of Judas Maccabeus hanging at his saddle-bow."

The insinuation was understood – the instilled poison worked its effect. Antiochus had met his former favourite with an ominous frown. He did not, however, consign Pollux to irremediable ruin; he gave him a chance of redeeming his character from the imputation of treachery towards the Syrian cause. Pollux received a commission from Antiochus to attack and seize a party of Hebrews who, according to information brought by spies, were to celebrate the Passover Feast in Salathiel's house, in defiance of the edict by which the king had endeavoured to crush the religion of those who still worshipped the God of their fathers.

An office more repugnant to the feelings of Pollux could scarcely have been assigned to him, but he dared not show the slightest hesitation in obeying the mandate; nay, the courtier even feigned joy at the opportunity given him of serving the king by rooting out the religion which, in the secret depths of his heart, Pollux regarded as the only true one; for he could not obliterate from memory lessons once learned on his mother's knee. The poor wretch was, as it were, sunk in the quicksand up to his lips, and would have clutched at red-hot iron, had such been the only means of drawing him upwards out of the living grave in which he was being gradually entombed.

Wearing the mask of mirth to conceal his misery, Pollux, before setting out on his hateful mission, jested in regard to the number of fanatic Jews whom he would enclose in his toils, and bring to make sport before the king, to fight wild beasts in the large gymnasium, which had been erected within Jerusalem for games which the Jews regarded as unlawful and sinful. The courtier, in the presence of Antiochus, affected the gay delight of the hunter, trying to cover with a garb of levity the remorse which was gnawing at his heart, and not betray even by a look, the secret torture which he felt.

We know what followed the attack upon Salathiel's house: the flight of the Hebrews, the fall of Abishai, whose last word and dying look inflicted upon Pollux a pang keen enough to have satisfied the fiercest thirst for revenge.

When tidings were brought to the palace that the result of the boasted exertions of Pollux was the death of a single Hebrew and the capture of one young girl, the wrath of the tyrant Antiochus Epiphanes rose higher than before. His courtiers, catching the infection of the anger of the king, showed something of what would have been the indignant rage of an audience crowding the Coliseum at Rome in the expectation of gloating on the sight of many victims flung to the lions, had the spectacle been reduced to the sacrifice of one.

Antiochus, however, determined to have what sport he could out of the single poor gazelle that had been run down by his hounds. One who – albeit, of the weaker sex – had been venturesome enough to keep the Passover feast, might make sufficient resistance to his arbitrary will to afford him a little amusement, when none more exciting could be had. The monarch, therefore, after he had enjoyed his noonday siesta, gave command that the Hebrew prisoner should be brought into his presence in his grand hall of audience.

There sat the tyrant of Syria on an ivory throne, his footstool a crouching silver lion, over his head a canopy of gold. In front of the king was a splendid altar, on which fire was constantly burning before a small image of Jupiter; and the luxurious fragrance of incense, frequently thrown on this fire, filled the magnificent hall. Many courtiers, in splendid apparel, clustered on either side below the dais which raised the throned monarch above them all. Behind these were numerous slaves, mostly Nubians, richly and gaudily dressed, some of whom held aloft large fans of the peacock's many-tinted plumes. The whole scene was one of gorgeous magnificence, the pomp and glory of the world throwing its false halo of beauty over guilty power.

Antiochus himself wore a robe crusted over with sparkling jewels, worth the tribute of a conquered province. He was, as his appearance has been handed down to us on coins, a kingly-looking man, with short curled hair, and regular, strongly-marked features, but a receding forehead, and an expression cold and hard. No one would expect from him "the milk of human kindness." Antiochus looked what he was – a stern, merciless tyrant. There was at this period no premonitory sign in the appearance of the king of that frightful disease which, within a year's time, was to render him an object of horror and loathing to all who approached him – a disease so exquisitely painful, that it seemed to combine and exceed all the tortures which the tyrant had made his victims endure. Antiochus, glittering on his ivory throne, appeared to be in the prime of health as well as the zenith of power; none guessed how brief was the term of mortal existence remaining to the despot, on the breath of whose lips now hung fortune or ruin, whose angry frown was a sentence of death.

CHAPTER XXI.

THE MAIDEN'S TRIAL

Before this gorgeous assembly – before this terrible king – stood, surrounded by guards, a trembling, shrinking girl, wrapping closer and closer her linen veil around her slight form and drooping head.

"Tear off her veil!" said the king.

The command was instantly obeyed, and, like the painful glare of noonday to one brought suddenly out of darkness, the terrible splendour of the scene before her flashed upon Zarah. Her exquisite beauty, as her face now flushed crimson with shame at having to meet, without the protection of a veil, so many gazing eyes, then turned pale from overwhelming fear, caused an involuntary murmur of admiration to burst from the throng.

"No Herculean task to bend this willow wand," observed Antiochus, even his hard stern countenance relaxing into a smile. "Bring her nearer." The guards obeyed. Zarah approached the king, but with timid, faltering steps; how different from the firm tread with which a captive Maccabeus would have drawn nigh to the oppressor who might slay but never subdue him!

"There is the altar of Jupiter Olympus – that of Venus would have been more appropriate to so fair a votary," said Antiochus, with an oath; "but it little matters which deity receives the homage, so that it be duly paid. Maiden, throw some grains of yon incense into the flame, bend the knee in worship, and I promise you," the king added, with a laugh, "a gay house and a gallant husband, pearls and goodly array, and all else that a young maid's heart can desire."

Zarah did not stir; she did not appear to have even understood or heard the words of the king, only her lips were moving in agonized prayer.

Antiochus repeated more sternly his command to offer the incense.

"Oh, my God, help me; let me not be tried beyond what I can bear!" was the silent ejaculation which rose from the heart of the terror-stricken girl, as she slightly shook her bended head as her only reply.

"What! silent still," cried Antiochus, with displeasure. "Know you not, young mute, that we have workers of miracles here," – he pointed to some black African slaves who performed the office of executioners; "these are skilful to bring sounds, and those some of the shrillest, from lips the most closely sealed."

In terror Zarah raised her dark eyes and looked wildly around her, in the vain hope of seeing some one, perhaps Lycidas himself, from whom she might receive protection or pity. But there was not a single countenance amidst the gay throng of courtiers that promised anything but cold indifference to, if not cruel amusement in her sufferings or her degradation; unless, perhaps, that of Pollux formed an exception. Zarah's anxious gaze rested for a moment on his face with an imploring look of entreaty, which might have touched a harder heart than his.

"I brook no more idle delay!" cried Antiochus; "as you love your life, do sacrifice at once to my god."

"I cannot – I dare not!" exclaimed the young maid. Faint as was her utterance of the words, they were heard distinctly, so great was the silence which prevailed through the assembly in that marble hall.

The answer surprised Antiochus and his courtiers.

"Ha! there is some resistance in the willow-wand then, after all!" cried the king, half amused and half angry. "I warrant me tough boughs grow on the tree from which that slender twig has sprung. Tell me, fair rebel," he continued, "your name and lineage, and the place of your birth."

Zarah had firmly resolved that, come what might, she would betray no friend; above all, that she would never draw down the fire of persecution upon the house of Hadassah. In the midst of all the misery which she was enduring from personal fear, Zarah forgot not this resolution.

"My name is Zarah; I was born in Bethsura; my father was called Abner," faltered forth the young maid.

Pollux involuntarily started and gasped, as if every word had been a live coal dropped upon his bare breast. It was well for him then that all eyes, even those of Lysimachus, were fixed at that moment on Zarah.

"Is your father living?" inquired the king, who, in the common name of Abner, did not recognize the almost forgotten one previously borne by a favourite.

"I know not," was the reply.

"Was he not with you at the rebellious meeting?" asked Antiochus

Epiphanes.

"No; I went with my uncle, who was slain: he was my only companion thither," said the trembling maiden, thankful to be able with truth to say what would bring no person into peril.

There was a brief pause, to Zarah inexpressibly awful; then Antiochus Epiphanes, he who had looked on the dying agonies of Solomona and her sons, said in his stern voice of command, "I am not wont to bid thrice, and woe to those who presume to neglect my bidding. Throw incense on that fire, or the consequences be upon your own head. Others have experienced ere this what it is to brave my displeasure and disobey my command."

Bewildered and terrified, Zarah suffered, as if scarcely conscious of the import of the act, a few grains of incense to be put into her hand, then, recovering her self-possession, she flung them from her with a look of aversion and horror.

"Ha! is it so?" thundered Antiochus; "if the incense go not into the fire, the hand that held it shall go. Executioners, do your work!"

Four of the fierce black slaves approached the young Hebrew maiden. She clasped her hands, and shrieked out, "Father, save me!" It was no mortal to whom she addressed that wild cry for help.

But the cry was answered by a mortal. Pollux, as if moved by an irresistible impulse, sprang forward, by a gesture of his hand arrested the movements of the executioners, and bent his knee before Epiphanes.

"The mighty king," he began, with a great effort to appear indifferent and at his ease; "the mighty king has spoken of magicians who have skill to force out sounds from lips that are dumb. I dispute not the power of yonder black magi, but I should deem one their superior in the mysterious art who could bring songs rather than shrieks from a Hebrew; who could subdue the proud will rather than torture the body. Oh, illustrious monarch of the world, let me but for twenty-four hours try my potent spells upon this young rebel, and I will answer for it with my head that, before the twenty-four hours be past, she shall gladly and cheerfully do sacrifice to any god in Olympus, feast on swine's flesh, dance as a Bacchante, or drink wine, like Belshazzar of old, out of the vessels of the Temple. Try my powers, O king, and according to my failure or success, so be the maiden's fate and mine!"

Antiochus hesitated; with a look of keen suspicion he regarded the kneeling courtier. Zarah watched the king's countenance with breathless anxiety – a respite even of twenty-four hours seemed to the poor captive so priceless a boon. Intense was her relief when she heard the tyrant's reply to Pollux: —

"Twenty-four hours' delay you have asked, and I grant. It were a nobler triumph to make a proselyte than to slay a victim. I myself, as you well know, Pollux," continued the tyrant, with sarcastic emphasis, "won such a triumph myself. Take yonder obstinate Jewess, and work upon her your spells, whatever they may be; but hear my final decision," the king raised his hand and uttered a deep oath: "if to-morrow you have failed in doing what you now undertake to perform, if the girl be obdurate still, the moment when she refuses to do sacrifice shall be your last upon earth – she shall go to the furnace, and her protector to the block."

And then, with an imperious gesture of command, Antiochus dismissed the assembly.

CHAPTER XXII.

A BREATHING SPACE

The captive was not taken back to prison-chamber which she had occupied during the preceding night, but to an apartment in the palace – one belonging to the suite appropriated to Pollux. She was confined within a room so luxurious, that, save from the door being fastened to prevent her exit, and there being no possibility of escaping through the latticed window, Zarah could scarcely have realized that she was a prisoner still. The floor of the apartment was inlaid with costly marbles; on the walls were depicted scenes taken from mythological subjects; luxurious divans invited to repose; and vases, wreathed with brilliant flowers and filled with rose-water, were surrounded by others loaded with a profusion of fruit and a variety of dainties. The young Hebrew maiden, accustomed to the simplicity of Hadassah's humble home, gazed around in wonder.

When left alone by the guards, the first impulse of the captive was to kneel and return thanks to her heavenly Protector for the merciful respite granted to her. Zarah was young, and hope was strong within her. What might not happen in the space of twenty-four hours to effect complete deliverance! She then laved her face, hands, and arms, and the tresses of her long hair, in the cool, fragrant water, and found great refreshment from her ablutions. It was then with a sense of enjoyment, at which she herself was surprised, that Zarah partook of the fruit before her. Nature had been almost exhausted, not only by the terrible excitement and alarm which the maiden had had to endure, but by sleeplessness and abstinence from food. Coarse bread had indeed been brought to her in her prison, but had remained untouched, not only because the poor captive had had no appetite for eating, but because the bread, being leavened, was not at that season lawful food for a Jewess. Zarah now carefully abstained from any part of the collation which she deemed might contain anything which Moses had judged unclean, and chiefly partook of the fruits, which were pure, as God Himself had made them, and which were, of all kinds of food, that most refreshing to her parched and burning lips.

"How good is my Lord, to spread a table for me thus in this wilderness of trial!" murmured Zarah; and she felt much as the Israelites must have felt when they first saw the glistening bread of heaven lying on the face of the desert. The maiden's spirit was soothed and cheered, as well as her frame refreshed; and, reclining on one of the luxurious divans, she was able with tolerable calmness to review the exciting events of the day.

"How thankful I am that, with all my cowardice and weakness, I was preserved by my Lord from doing anything very wicked!" thought Zarah. "I was not suffered either to betray my friends or to deny my God; and yet my faith almost failed me. I could scarcely endure the terror: how could I endure the pain? But will not He who supported me under the one sustain me also through the other, if I must die for my faith to-morrow before that terrible king? I will not weary myself by thinking; I will just trust all to my God. It is so sweet to rest in His love, like a babe on her mother's bosom."

Zarah lay perfectly still for some time, letting her overstrained nerves regain their usual tone. It was such a comfort to be quite alone, with no sound to disturb save the cooing of doves from a garden which separated the palace of Epiphanes from Mount Zion.

The young captive then arose, went to the lattice, and looked forth. Pleasant to the sight was the rich foliage of the juniper and acacia, the terebinth and the palm, the orange, almond, and citron, watered from marble-bordered tanks by artificial irrigation, which counteracted the effects of a season sultry and dry. Here and there fountains threw up their sparkling waters, transformed to diamonds in the sun. But the eyes of the maid of Judah wandered beyond this paradise of beauty, created for the pleasure of a tyrant, and rested on the holy Mount and the sacred Temple on its summit. If the very stones, nay, the dust, of Jerusalem have an interest to Gentile strangers, with what feelings must a child of Abraham regard the spot on which the Temple was reared! As Zarah gazed on the holy pile before her, words of Scripture came into the mind of Hadassah's grand-daughter, which filled her with a joy which was indeed nourished by the dew of heavenly hope, but had its root in earthly affection. Slowly and emphatically Zarah repeated to herself: "Also the sons of the stranger, that join themselves to the Lord, to serve Him, and to love the name of the Lord, to be his servants, every one that keepeth the Sabbath from polluting it, and taketh hold of My covenant; even them will I bring to My holy mountain, and make them joyful in My house of prayer: for Mine house shall be called an house of prayer for all people" (Isa. lvi. 6, 7).

"Oh, blessed promise!" exclaimed Zarah. "Israel has been, like Joseph, the chosen amongst many brethren, to wear the many-coloured robe prepared by his Father, and to go first, through bondage and tribulation, to dignity and honour. But his brethren are not forgotten: he shall yet be a blessing to them all, even to them who have hated and sold him. Through Israel shall light spread throughout the dark world, and with the bread of life shall the hungry nations be fed."

Zarah was interrupted in her musings by the entrance of Nubian slaves, who silently replenished the vases, lighted silver lamps as the day was closing, placed rich garments upon the divan, and then retired from her presence. Their coming had caused a flutter in the timid heart of the captive; and it was a relief when they had left her again to that solitude which scarcely seemed to be loneliness, so sweet were the thoughts which had been her companions. Zarah went up to the divan, and looked admiringly on the silken robes and richly-embroidered veil.

"These are meant for my wear," said the maiden; "but I will not touch them. The Gentiles would allure me, as the serpent allured Eve our mother, by the lust of the eyes and the pride of life. Embroidered robes are not for the prisoner, nor silver zone for the martyr. This simple blue garment, spun and woven by my own hands, is good enough to die in."

Zarah watched the sun as it sank beneath the western horizon, its last beams lingering on the pinnacles of the Temple.

"Perhaps this will be my last evening on earth," thought the prisoner. "Ere the sun set again, I may have entered into eternal rest." A deep sense of holy peace stole into the maiden's heart, though the expression of her beautiful countenance was pensive as she meditated on the future. "I shall no more join in worship with my brethren below; but perhaps, while they gather together in secret, with perils around them, my eyes shall see the King in His beauty, shall behold the land that is very far off. And will not He for whom I die hear now my feeble prayers for those whom I leave behind? Never have I felt that I could plead with such child-like confidence before Him as I do now; praying not only for myself, but for those who are dearer than self. Oh, may the Lord hear, and graciously answer, the supplications of His child!"

Zarah knelt down, and poured out her simple Prayer. First, she besought God for Hadassah; that He would comfort the bereaved one, grant her rest from her tribulation, and give her the desire of her heart. Tears mingled with this prayer, as Zarah thought of the desolation to which the aged widow was left. "Let her not weep long for me," murmured the maiden; "and oh, never let her want a loving one to tend her in sickness and comfort her in sorrow, better than I could have done." The Hebrew girl then prayed for her country, and for those who were fighting for its freedom; especially for Judas Maccabeus, that God would be his shield and defender, and cover his head in the day of battle. Zarah forgot not her unknown father. She now pleaded for him more fervently than she had ever pleaded before; and, by some mysterious connection in her mind, thoughts of her lost parent linked themselves to remembrance of the generous courtier to whose intercession she had owed her present respite from torture and death. The young prisoner implored her Lord not to let the Syrian suffer for his kindness to a stranger, but to requite it sevenfold into his own bosom.

Zarah did not yet rise from her knees. Her supplications became yet more fervent as she prayed for another, dearest of all. No fear of displeasing God now marred the comfort which the maiden found in supplication for a Gentile. It was not sinful, she thought, for the dying to love. Her misery might be the means which God would deign to employ in winning Lycidas from the errors of idolatrous worship. She might be permitted, as it were to beckon to her beloved from the other side of the grave.

Zarah arose from her devotions feeling almost happy. It seemed to her as if the worst bitterness of death were already passed. She again partook, with a thankful spirit, of needful refreshment, and afterwards laid herself down to rest. The prisoner had had no refreshing sleep during the preceding terrible night, and now her eyelids were heavy. Soft slumber stole over Zarah, as the Psalmist's words were on her lips, I will both lay me down in peace and sleep, for Thou, Lord, only makest me dwell in safety.

CHAPTER XXIII.

FOUND AT LAST

So profound was the slumber of the weary girl that she heard not the sound of opening the door, nor a step on the marble floor, and lay unconscious of the yearning, anxious, mournful gaze that was fixed upon her she slept.

"Lovely, most lovely – fairer even than her mother!" murmured Pollux, as he stood beside the couch of Zarah, upon whose slumbering form softly fell the light from a silver lamp. "Even so beautiful and so pure lay my Naomi, when the angel of death had in mercy called her soul away, and bereft me of a gift of which I was so unworthy."

What bitter memories of early years passed through the renegade's soul as he spoke! Happy days, when there was no shame on the brow, no gnawing worm in the conscience – when he had feared the face of no man, and had dared to lift his eyes towards heaven, and his heart to One who dwelt there! Blessed days, never, never to come again!

"Hark! she speaks in her sleep. What says she?"

Pollux bent down his head to listen, and caught the faint murmur, "My poor, poor father!"

The groan which burst from the apostate's lips awoke the sleeper. Zarah started into a sitting posture, and, with a gesture of alarm, threw back the long tresses which had partly fallen over her face.

"Fear not, poor child; I would not harm you," said Pollux, in a gentle, soothing tone, which restored Zarah's confidence at once.

"Oh no! I will not fear you!" she cried, recognizing her protector; "it was you – the God of Jacob requite you for it! – it was you who saved me to-day."

"And will do so again," said Pollux, as he seated himself at Zarah's side; "but I cannot save you in spite of yourself. You must let yourself be guided by me."

"What would you have me do?" asked Zarah.

"Bend to the force of circumstances, humour the mighty king, give an outward obedience to his will. I have pledged myself that you should do so. There is nothing so dreadful, after all," continued the courtier, forcing a smile, "in bowing the knee as others do, or in burning a few grains of incense. It is but a little matter."

"A little matter!" repeated Zarah, opening wide her eyes in innocent surprise; "is it a little matter for me to throw away my soul, and break the heart of Hadassah?"