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Another Random Scribd Document
with Unrelated Content
Tor shuddered at the evil sound as he lay quiet in his lair. After that
the [pg 122]silence remained unbroken, and the child at length
ventured to peep out from the archway. The two men were just
emerging into the brightly-lighted square beyond, and the sun falling
full upon the face of Chelluh’s companion revealed it as the face of
Judas. Tor flung his arms about the neck of the dog. “Oh, Baladan,”
he whispered, “I must find my Master. If I were only a great man
with a great sword how I would fight for him!”

But the boy remained where he was for another hour till the sun had
sunken behind the mountains. Then, emerging into the twilight of
the narrow street, he trotted noiselessly away. Baladan followed at
his heels like a shadow, and like a shadow refused to be left behind
at the accustomed boundary. Some vague stirring in the dog’s loving
heart [pg 123]told him that his master was going into danger, and
forthwith his own imminent peril was forgotten.

To his unbounded joy, Tor saw not many rods distant the figure of
Peter, the Galilean, walking swiftly along with bent head. He ran to
him and, placing himself directly in the man’s way, bowed himself
humbly before him. “I beseech thee to listen to me, honorable
Galilean,” he began, “for I have evil tidings which concern my
Master.”

The dog whined uneasily, and flattened his lean body against the
stones. The man’s angry eyes cut him like a lash.

“Out of my way, companion of a pariah,” said the Galilean, with

profound disgust. “What hast thou to do with the Master?”

He strode forward, shaking off with a shudder of loathing the small

imploring [pg 124]hand of the beggar child. “They will kill him,” cried
Tor. “The man said so. They hate him!”

The dog sprang forward with a low growl of anger and fastened his
white teeth in the garments of the fisherman. That wail of anguish in
his master’s voice had roused him to a frenzy.
The Galilean raised his stout oaken staff and smote the animal twice
—thrice with all his strength. The gaunt body quivered, dropped,
rolled over once, and was still.

The Jew hurried away, breathing deep in his anger and disgust. “I
am defiled,” he muttered, “for the breath of an unclean beast hath
polluted my garments.” He glanced back over his shoulder and
beheld the beggar kneeling by the body of the dog. And his indig[pg
125]nation found vent in deep-mouthed, muttered curses.

That same night the passover was sacrificed, and all Jerusalem
feasted with solemn rites and decorous rejoicings. But Tor crouched
on the stones outside one of the low, dark houses within the third
wall of the city. He had followed the Galilean afar off, had seen him
at length with his Master and the eleven enter this house. The child
drowsed between whiles as the hours passed, and the white moon
looked down at him between the houses. He had forgiven Peter, the
Galilean, for the death of Baladan, even as his Master had
commanded, and that singular peace which the world neither gives
nor takes away filled his soul.

He could have told no man why he was so strangely content, when,

in the old [pg 126]days, fury would have scorched him. For the
moment he had forgotten the evil words of Chelluh and the disciple
called Judas; and, remembering them, he murmured a simple prayer
to the mysterious, unseen Father, in whom he was coming to believe
with all the strength of his childish being. “Our Father will take care
of my Master,” he said aloud, and smiled alone in the darkness.

Within the house, in a large upper chamber, Jesus sat at his last
meal upon earth with the few whom he had chosen, knowing all
things that should shortly come to pass, and understanding to the
full the pitiful ignorance and darkness in the hearts of the disciples.

Again they disputed among themselves as to which of them should

be accounted greatest in that coming kingdom of glory which the
Master now told [pg 127]them plainly had been appointed unto him.
To sit upon twelve thrones judging the twelve tribes of Israel was,
indeed, a glorious future; they accepted the idea with complaisance,
but one must be greater than his fellows in any kingdom, and each
of them coveted the supreme crown of power.

Then Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into his
hands, and that he came forth from God, and was going to God,
arose from supper, and laying aside his garments, took a basin and
began to wash the disciples’ feet, and to wipe them with the towel
wherewith he was girded. And so he came in turn to Peter.

Peter said to him, “Lord, thou shalt never wash my feet.”

Jesus answered, “If I wash thee not, thou hast no part with me.”

[pg 128]
“Lord, not my feet only,” said Peter, “but my hands and my head.”

Then came that dark moment when the man called Judas received
the morsel of bread dipped in wine. “What thou doest, do quickly,”
said the Master, with a look of full understanding which penetrated
the dismal labyrinth of the man’s soul like a flash of blinding light.

Judas ran violently out of the house, and the darkness swallowed
him. He knew himself at last. He was no eager patriot, no doubting
disciple, anxious to force a triumphant issue. He ground his teeth in
a very fury of rage and hatred, as he sped on his terrible mission.

The beggar child, drowsing on the cold stones without, shuddered at

sound of that ominous, hurrying footfall. “My Father will take care of
him,” he murmured, and again slept.

[pg 129]
Within that dimly-lighted upper chamber the compassionate Master
was trying to prepare the little company of unsuspecting disciples for
the darker hours just before them. “All ye shall be offended because
of me this night,” he said sorrowfully. “For it is written, I will smite
the shepherd, and the sheep of the flock shall be scattered abroad.
But after I am raised up, I will go before you into Galilee.”

Peter answered in his bold, positive way, “Although all shall be

offended, yet will not I.”

Jesus said to him, “Verily, I say unto thee, that this night, before the
cock crow twice, thou shalt deny me thrice.”

But the Galilean answered with exceeding vehemence, “If I must die
with thee, I will not deny thee!”

And so likewise said all the others.

[pg 130]
 CHAPTER IX
BEFORE THE COCK CREW

The primal instinct which has ever led man to the kind bosom of
earth in his darkest hour led the man Christ Jesus to Gethsemane.
And there under the dense shadow of the ancient olives he threw
himself down upon the ground for that last exceeding bitter struggle
with his humanity.

And Peter, the Galilean, and the others—slept.

Tor had followed them, noiseless and unseen as a friendly shadow.

He did not approach the King, his Master, nor did he again venture
to accost Peter. Squatting motionless at the gate of the [pg
131]garden, the child thought confusedly but joyfully of his
deliverance from the house of Pilate.

“It was because I prayed to my Father,” he told himself, and hugged

his lean little body with a low laugh of pleasure. “Hereafter I need
fear nothing. I will call and he will deliver me, and neither man nor
demon can hinder.”

His soul went out in a flood of love toward the Man who had opened
his eyes, and who was at that moment lying upon his face under the
olives in a wordless agony, and the child’s pure thoughts mingled
with the cloudy forms of angels which comforted him.

Somewhere, afar off, lights gleamed among the dark trees; stealthy
footfalls and hushed voices beyond the garden wall reached the
boy’s keen ears. He sprang up and listened intently.
[pg 132]
The glare of smoking torches and the irregular tread of hurrying feet
sent vibrations of horror through the shuddering night. But the Man
of Nazareth no longer lay upon his face amid the shadows. He came
forth to receive the brimming cup of his sorrows radiant with the
power that had never failed him. Stooping over his sleeping disciples
he called them: “Arise, let us be going: behold, he that betrayeth me
is at hand.”

Now Judas had before agreed with the officers that he would greet
his Master with a kiss. “So that ye may know the man from his
disciples,—stupid dolts every one and not worth the taking.”

As the motley crowd of temple police, bearing torches, followed by a

rabble of the curious, advanced into the gloom of the garden a
superstitious awe fell upon them. They drew back to a man and [pg
133]hesitated, casting fearful glances at the dark masses of trees
moving gently in the night wind. Some unseen, noiseless terror
seemed to lurk amid the shifting shadows. “If the man be a
prophet,” whispered one, “there be blasting lightnings at his call. Let
us go back.”

But Judas turned his sneering face upon the speaker with a low
laugh of scorn. “Master! Master!” he cried mockingly, and running
forward he clasped and kissed the Saviour of the world.

Jesus said to him, “Judas, betrayest thou the Son of man with a
kiss?”

“Lord, shall we smite with the sword?” cried one of the disciples.

Not waiting for an answer, Peter drew his weapon and aimed a
mighty blow at the officer nearest him. The man fell back with a
bellow of rage and pain, [pg 134]while his companions sprang
forward and seized Jesus.
The eyes of the prisoner, grave, calm, and compassionate, were
fixed upon the wounded man, from whose severed ear blood
spurted in a torrent. “Permit me thus far,” he said gently to the
officers who grasped him by the arms, and reaching forth he
touched the ear and healed it.

Then that omniscient gaze turned full upon Peter, who stood staring
in a frozen stupor at the being he had believed to be the invincible
Messiah.

“Put up again thy sword into its place,” said the Master; “for all they
that take the sword shall perish with the sword.” Then, answering
further the thoughts that looked out of the bewildered, terror-
stricken eyes of the man whom he had named “The Rock,” [pg
135]he said: “Thinkest thou that I cannot now pray to my Father,
and he shall presently give me more than twelve legions of angels?
But how then shall the scriptures be fulfilled, that thus it must be?”

But he uttered no prayer to his Father, and the ranks of the angelic
host remained hid from the expectant eyes that searched the empty
heavens.

In that same hour Jesus said to the multitude which gathered about
him, threatening, yet awe-stricken by the miracle, “Are ye come out,
as against a thief, with swords and staves? When I was daily with
you in the temple, ye stretched forth no hands against me: but this
is your hour, and the power of darkness.”

At that word the darkness closed in about him—and it was night.

[pg 136]
In the courtyard of the high priest’s house Tor lurked in the shelter
of a doorway and looked on. No one had noticed the child as he
slipped in with the crowd that held at its core the silent Man of
Nazareth. Peter had also followed. Tor watched the Galilean seat
himself with the others at a small fire which was kindled in the midst
of the place. He had turned his back upon the travesty of a legal
examination which was going on at the upper end of the hall and
was warming his fingers with an air of complete indifference.

“So the dangerous prophet is proven but a man of straw, after all,”
quoth one of the lesser officers of the police with a contemptuous
gesture toward the meek figure of the Nazarene. “Look you upon
the fellow now, he hath never a word to say for himself, and there
are [pg 137]no lightnings—no thunders. By the seven-branched
candlestick, I declare to you that I was in a cold sweat when I laid
hands on the man. But I felt nothing more terrible than an arm of
flesh and blood under his rabbi’s robe.”

“A rabbi’s robe, indeed,” chuckled another. “He will wear another sort
before many days, I promise you.”

“But what sayest thou to the healing of Ben-Joseph’s ear?”

demanded a woman who had approached the fire. “I have just
talked with the son of Joseph. He declares that from henceforth he
is a believer.”

A great shout of laughter greeted this speech. “Ben-Joseph hath

ever a nimble tongue,” quoth a black-bearded young fellow who
carried a short sword stuck in his belt. “A nimble tongue, say I, [pg
138]and the long ears of an ass. One of the Galileans made a lunge
at him, but, being a clumsy knave of a fisherman and knowing
naught of the uses of a sword, he merely grazed the ear.”

“Nay, fellow, the ear was sliced clean off,” growled Peter, stung to
retort by the sneering words of the Judean.

The woman bent forward to stare at the speaker. “Art not thou also
one of the man’s disciples?” she asked curiously.

“I am not,” said Peter shortly. He was listening painfully to his

Master’s voice in low-toned response to a question of the high priest.
At sound of a violent, flat-handed blow, he twisted quite about in his
place and beheld the colorless face of Jesus slowly reddening under
the insult. “If I have spoken evil,” he was saying in a low, clear
voice, “bear wit[pg 139]ness of the evil; but if well, why smitest
thou me?”

The Galilean rose from his place at the fire, breathing deep, his
strong hands clenched at his sides in futile anger. “Why doth he not
blast them with the word of his power?” he asked himself as he
stealthily watched the terrible mockery of justice which was now
drawing to its close.

They were questioning the prisoner sharply now. Peter could see the
dark looks of satisfaction on the faces of the priests and Sanhedrists
and the sneering laughter of the rabble at their back. Then came a
show of witnesses against the prisoner. Among the witnesses stood
Chelluh, the beggar who had once been blind. “The man healed me
of blindness—yes, it is so, most worshipful lords,” he whined. “’Twas
accom[pg 140]plished by black magic and the power of Beelzebub, I
declare to you, for he who would lightly destroy the temple of God
must needs be of the devil.”

“What sayest thou of the temple, fellow?” demanded the high priest.
“Did the man dare to threaten the temple?”

“Most holy and reverend high priest,” replied Chelluh, “the Nazarene
said in my hearing, and in the hearing of this friend of mine—an
honest craftsman, as thou seest—‘I am able to destroy the temple of
God, and to build it in three days!’ ”

The high priest arose in his place and fixed his eyes upon the
prisoner. “Answerest thou nothing?” he hissed between set teeth.
“What is the meaning of this saying which these reputable witnesses
bring against thee?”

[pg 141]
Jesus seemed not to have heard the question. His inscrutable eyes
were bent upon the ground; upon his face shone a faint, mysterious
light. The high priest bent forward and stared at him, unrelentingly.
“I adjure thee by the living God, that thou tell us whether thou be
the Christ, the Son of God!” he cried in a terrible voice.

The Man of Nazareth lifted his meek head at that word. “I am,” he
said slowly—distinctly. “And ye shall see the Son of man sitting at
the right hand of power, and coming with the clouds of heaven.”

“He hath spoken blasphemy!” exclaimed the high priest, rending his
garments with a gesture of outraged holiness. “What further need
have we of witnesses? Ye have heard the blasphemy: what think
ye?”

[pg 142]
“Death—death! He is guilty!” came the deep-throated answer of the
priests.

Cries of triumph, dreadful laughter, the sound of buffeting palms

burst forth from judges and witnesses alike. Some one was tying a
handkerchief over the face of the prisoner with the mocking words,
“Behold the Prophet!”

“Prophesy unto us, thou Christ. Who is he that smote thee?” yelled
the savage voice of the beggar who had received his sight; and he
smote his blinded Saviour with open palms twice—thrice—many
times.

A suffocating mist rolled blood-red before the eyes of Peter. “If he

were the Messiah,” he groaned, “this could not be. The man hath
mocked and deceived us from the beginning!”

Somewhere, not far away, sounded the cheerful crowing of a cock.

“I will go [pg 143]back to Galilee,” he muttered. But his leaden feet
carried him no farther from the awful scene than the porch. Here he
loitered, listening with a frightful, strained attention to the sounds of
ribaldry and laughter that came out to him through the half-open
doors. “I will go,” he said aloud. “I must go. It is already day.”
The servants of the high priest’s household were astir and cheerfully
busy with their morning tasks. One of them, a buxom maid bearing
a jar upon her head, paused and stared attentively at the Galilean.
“Aha!” she exclaimed. “This man also was with Jesus, the Nazarene.”

Peter raised his heavy eyes to the fresh-colored, inquisitive face of

the woman. “I know not the man,” he snarled with an oath. The
woman went [pg 144]her way with a laughing gesture of unbelief.

Then others of the bystanders began to cast curious glances at the

haggard face and wild eyes of the stranger. They whispered among
themselves for a space, then a man wearing the livery of the house
of Annas advanced with an air of determination. “Certainly, thou art
one of them,” he said authoritatively, “for thou art a Galilean.”

Peter turned upon the man with a torrent of angry oaths. “I tell
thee, fellow,” he cried loudly, “that I know not this man of whom
thou speakest.”

The cock crew for the second time.

The great doors of the judgment-hall were flung wide, and the
motley throng of priests and underlings, glutted with their awful
triumph, pushed through, dragging the piteous figure of their [pg
145]prisoner. The face of the Nazarene gleamed white and calm
amid the dark looks of his persecutors; his loving eyes turned for the
last time upon Peter and flashed into his darkened soul the
remembrance of that sad word of prophecy: “Before the cock crow
twice, thou shalt deny me thrice.”

And Peter went out and wept bitterly.

[pg 146]
 CHAPTER X
IN THE PALACE GARDEN

The wife of Pilate arose from her couch with a troubled and haggard
look on her fair face. The maid who attended the great lady’s toilet
observed this with curiosity. “There is tumult about the gates of the
palace this morning,” she said, as she combed out the long blonde
tresses with a comb of gold and ivory, preparatory to weaving them
into a graceful crown of braided strands.

The princess shrugged her fair shoulders with a slight gesture of

weariness. “There is always tumult,” she said [pg 147]languidly. “Ah
me, ’tis a dreary place—this Jerusalem. I would I were once more
safely at Rome.”

“If my noble lady will but glance into the mirror, she will behold a
fairer sight than even Rome can offer,” said the maid obsequiously,
and skilfully fastened a fresh-blown rose so that its crimson petals
rested on the white neck of her mistress. “But the tumult of this
morning differs from that of other days, honorable princess,” she
went on eagerly. “Diomed says that the Jews have seized their
prophet and are about to put him to death—if, indeed, they are
allowed.”

“What prophet, girl?” demanded the lady, a faint flush stealing into
her pale cheeks. “Every man is a prophet—or a priest, is it not so, in
this hateful Jerusalem? And the prophets have loud [pg 148]voices,
and they are always creating a tumult.”
“I myself have seen this man,” said the girl. “He is quite unlike the
other rabbis, as they call them—of a gentle voice, and a stature
majestic. I bethought me of my gods in Athens. Yet is the man a
Jew.”

“His name?”

“His name is Jesus; also they call him the Nazarene.”

The princess uttered a faint exclamation.

“Pardon me, I beseech thee, honorable mistress, if I have fastened

that last plait too tightly,” hastily interposed the maid, withdrawing a
jeweled pin from its place and readjusting it with elaborate care.

“Didst thou say they were bringing the Nazarene here—to the
palace?” de[pg 149]manded the princess, turning her large dark
eyes upon her servant.

“Honorable lady, the man is already here, and my lord, the governor,
is attending the case without upon the seat of judgment. The Jews
refused to await the proper hour, and my lord Pilate, with his wonted
indulgence, came forth to them. These barbarians have no hearts,
noble lady, they are without consideration for the sleep of an
illustrious Roman. They should be scourged as slaves.”

“What will they do with him?” muttered the wife of Pilate, clenching
her white hands. “Nay, my lord should have nought to do with this
prophet. He must dismiss the case.”

The maid stared at her mistress in some perplexity. “The morning is

warm and fair,” she said at last. “Will [pg 150]it please your highness
to breakfast upon the terrace? The lady Felicia is already playing in
the garden of the inner court.”

In the secluded spot where slaves had spread a table with the
breakfast-service of the princess, the morning sun struck sparks of
splendor from burnished plates and crystal, gem-rimmed goblets.
Flowers of every delicate color and odor, violets from Gethsemane,
lilies from the deep vale of Kedron, roses from the nearer gardens of
the palace, heaped a golden bowl in the center, while around it
glowed the richer hues of fruit, brought from distant parts of the
country, and flagons of delicate wine, cooling in beds of snow
fetched from the crown of Lebanon for this spoiled daughter of
Rome.

The lady cast a dissatisfied glance [pg 151]about the garden.

“Where is Felicia?” she asked sharply.

“She was here but a moment ago, noble lady,” replied the maid, who
had followed her mistress with a fan of peacock’s feathers and an
armful of embroidered pillows. “I will call Oonah.”

But neither Oonah nor the child were anywhere to be found, and
after a little the princess began her repast with frowning brows.
“There is too much noise about the place,” she observed in a
displeased tone, as she tasted a silver fig smothered in wine and
spices.

The servants glanced at one another with lifted brows. “It cannot be
helped, honorable mistress,” ventured one of them, a young Greek
lad, beautiful as a creation of Praxitiles in his short tunic bordered
with blue. “All the loud-mouthed Jews of the city, it would seem, [pg
152]headed by their priests, are surrounding the judgment-seat
before the palace. The guard would not have admitted them; but my
lord, the governor, ordered it.”

“He could not do otherwise,” said the lady, with a slight curl of her
haughty lip. “But what is it that they are saying over and again? ’Tis
a horrid sound, like the cry of wolves hungering after their prey.”

Again the servants exchanged half-frightened glances, and again the

beautiful young Greek answered his lady. “’Tis a custom in this
Jerusalem for the governor to release a prisoner at feast time,” he
said in a low voice. “Perchance, the people are demanding this
pledge from the illustrious Pilate.”

The lady’s face cleared. “Ah, it is so,” she cried; “I remember how it
befell last year. My lord will release to [pg 153]them the Nazarene,
who is called Jesus. Is it not so, Diomed?”

The Greek hesitated, and in the moment of silence the child, Felicia,
closely followed by her nurse, rushed into the garden. Her golden
hair was disordered, and her blue eyes reddened with angry tears.
“They shall not scourge the boy!” she cried, stamping her small foot.
“I have said it; but that stupid, wicked Marcus declares that he will
do it. Wilt thou not send for him, mother, and cause him to be
punished for disobeying me?”

The princess turned her eyes severely upon Oonah. “Where hath the
child been, and what is all this about Marcus? What has happened?”

Oonah trembled under the cold looks of her mistress. “’Tis the
beggar boy again,” she faltered. “He was beating [pg 154]upon the
door of the outer court like a mad thing, and demanding speech with
your highness. But, of course, Marcus—”

“Marcus is a beast—an animal!” again interrupted Felicia

passionately. “Listen to me, princess, I can explain everything far
better than this stupid Oonah. Dost thou not remember the beggar
lad whose eyes were restored by a King named Jesus? I brought him
to this very spot two—three days ago. The boy amused me with his
story. But Oonah thrust him forth because—”

“I remember,” said the wife of Pilate with a strange look. “What

then?”

“The mob wish to kill his Master, the King, and the lad came hither
to beg his life. Marcus was about to scourge him and thrust him
forth, but I forbade it. I say he shall not harm the boy. Do thou [pg
155]command it also, my mother—and quickly, for Marcus will not
obey me.”

“Fetch the lad to me, Diomed,” ordered the lady briefly.

The young Greek obeyed, and presently returned to the presence of

his mistress followed by the irate porter, his big hand buried in the
rough curls of the beggar’s head. Tor presented a pitiable
appearance, his pallid face streaked with tears and dust, his great
eyes wide with fear and horror.

At sight of the princess the child fell sobbing to his knees and lifted
his lean arms in an agony of petition. “My Master—my Master!” he
wailed. And again, “My Master, oh, my Master!”

The wife of Pilate signed to Marcus to release the boy, then she
ordered Diomed to give him wine.

Tor obediently swallowed from the [pg 156]cup which was held to
his lips; but not once did he remove his beseeching eyes from the
beautiful haughty face of the princess. “Thou canst save him,” he
whispered.

The lady shook her head. “I fear that I cannot,” she said. Then to
the astonishment of every one present she laid her delicate hand on
the beggar’s rough head. “Tell me why thou dost love this man—this
Nazarene?” she asked softly. “Nay, do not weep and tremble so,
child. I will do all that I can to save him.”

Tor choked back his tears and gazed steadfastly into the exquisite
troubled face which leaned toward him. “I love him—because he
loves—me,” he faltered. “He opened my eyes. He is good. He is the
King—my Master. I love him.”

[pg 157]
“Why do the Jews hate him so?” murmured the lady. “In my dream I
saw him—as one altogether lovely, enthroned high above all the
gods of Rome and Greece. Then I saw—” She broke off with a
shudder. The wild tumult of voices in the square without had risen
into an awful, insistent iteration of one terrible phrase.

“What do they say now?” she demanded with slowly-whitening face,

turning to Diomed, who watched the scene with a satirical curl of his
handsome lips.

“They are demanding the crucifixion of some criminal, your noble

highness,” replied the Greek, smirking courtier-like. “But why trouble
thyself, dear princess, over the doings of the wild rabble? The man,
Jesus, is no more than a Jewish peasant—a carpenter, they say.
What [pg 158]can such an one be to the fairest princess in—”

“Go, see what is passing without,” ordered the lady, with a look
which froze the insolent smile on the lips of the Greek. “Go, and
return quickly.”

The Greek reappeared almost immediately with a white, scared face.

“The scene without beggars description, noble lady,” he began
hurriedly, answering the command in the eyes of his mistress. “The
whole city is at the doors demanding the crucifixion of the Nazarene.
The most noble Pilate believes him innocent of any crime, and would
save him if possible; but—hear the mob!”

It was impossible to hear anything else. Those awful beast-like cries

penetrated the ears of the very slaves so that they cowered and
trembled. “My tablets, Maia,” whispered the wife of [pg 159]Pilate.
With shaking fingers she wrote a few words upon the wax. “Take
this,” she said, turning to the Greek, “and give it into the hand of
Pilate himself—no other. Go quickly!”

The Greek drew back in manifest terror. “What, art thou afraid?”
sneered the princess. “Hold, I will go myself. Perhaps I can save him
so.” She arose and was descending the steps of the terrace, when
the child Felicia flung herself at her mother’s knees with a scream of
terror. “Do not go out into that dreadful place, mother,” begged the
child. “They are horrible—those Jews. Stay with me!”

The princess paused, hesitated, and finally yielded the tablets into
the outstretched hand of Diomed. “Go—quickly!” she urged.

[pg 160]
 CHAPTER XI
LOVE TRIUMPHANT

To Pilate, governor of Jerusalem, seated upon the ivory chair of

office before the palace, came the message of his wife. He glanced
down at it with some impatience, when Diomed thrust the tablets
into his hand with a hurried word of explanation.

“Have thou nothing to do with that righteous man,” he read, “for I

have suffered many things this day in a dream because of him.”

The message was signed and sealed with the signet of the Roman
princess. Pilate’s pallid and heavy face whitened to the lifeless hues
of the wax upon [pg 161]which the fateful words were written.
Before him stood the drooping but still majestic figure of the
Nazarene, robed in the purple robe of his torture and wearing the
crown of thorns, a piteous sight, before which angels were vailing
their shamed faces. Beyond the strong cordon of the Roman guard
surged the wildest, cruelest mob of all the ages.

The governor rose to his feet slowly, and, advancing to the side of
the prisoner, exclaimed in his loud, passionless voice, “Behold the
man!”

Mocking laughter, furious incoherent shouts, coupled with the

dreadful, insistent, “Crucify him! Crucify him!” burst out in wilder
clamor.

Pilate looked forth over the sea of terrible upturned eyes, and his
huge limbs trembled beneath him. Again he glanced at the pale,
melancholy face of [pg 162]the prisoner. “The fellow is naught but a
Jewish peasant,” he assured himself. “And after all, what use to cast
Roman justice before dogs. They will have none of it.” Loudly he
called for water in a basin, and in sight of them all washed his hands
with spectacular solemnity, saying, “I am innocent of the blood of
this just person: see ye to it!”

Back came the mocking, inhuman cry, “His blood be upon us and
upon our children!”

Pilate ground his teeth in impotent rage, and, seizing Jesus roughly
by the shoulder, he thrust him forward in the face of the mob. “Shall
I crucify your King?” he shouted derisively.

“We have no king but Cæsar!” was the blasphemous answer. And
with that word was the scroll rolled up and sealed [pg 163]with the
seven seals of wrath against the day of wrath.

And they took Jesus and led him away.

On that same day Tor was again a prisoner. The wife of Pilate in real
pity had commanded that the child should be comfortably
entertained in the servants’ quarters until all should be over.

Diomed, to whom the carrying out of this commission was entrusted,

spoke softly to the beggar in the presence of his mistress, bidding
him follow. Out of sight of the lady the Greek laughed aloud in his
scorn. “Here is a guest for our honorable entertainment,” he said to
the chief butler. “My lady the princess hath commanded it. In which
of the chambers of state shall I lodge my lord?”

[pg 164]
The official sniffed his disdain. “Is it an animal?” he demanded.

“It is an animal, most sapient Clodius,” laughed Diomed. “A Jewish

swine—eh?—albeit a small one. Give him food and wine, excellent
Clodius, for he is chiefly bone—this animal.”
Tor ate, for he was starving; also he slept fitfully, for he was
exhausted with fear and weeping. The sun shone warm and friendly
from the cloudless spring heavens, and the child, lying upon a rug
which one of the slaves had flung down for him, drowsily watched
the ceaseless dance of young grape leaves in the soft warm wind.

The tumult without had suddenly ceased, and an ominous silence lay
heavily upon the city. Tor thought lovingly of his Master in the
intervals between dreams. “He has gone away [pg 165]safely with
the men,” he told himself. “I shall again find him, and he will heal
blind folk as before.” So drowsing and murmuring soft prayers to his
invisible Father, the beggar child rested in the house of Pilate, while
without the walls of the city his Master, the King, was already
hanging upon the cross.

Within the great kitchens of the palace cooks were busy preparing
the noonday meal; dishes and cups clattered cheerfully, and the
merry voices of maidens burnishing the great wine-flagons mingled
with the chirp and whir of sparrows flitting back and forth in the blue
air.

Suddenly, and without warning, the bright light of the spring noon
began to fail. There was no fog, no storm, but a veil of lurid
darkness was drawn heavily across the sky. Doors and windows [pg
166]were thrown wide, and terror-stricken faces stared up into the
threatening heavens.

Marcus, the crusty porter of the palace, stood fast in his place, his
dull face blanched and terrified in the failing light. “’Tis the
vengeance of the gods,” he muttered. “The Man of Nazareth was
innocent!”

Servants and underlings crowded the passages in terrified groups.

“Open to us, Marcus,” they cried, beating upon the doors till they
trembled upon their heavy hinges. “Earthquake!” wailed a voice from
without. “The gods are shaking this evil city!”
The porter drew the great bolts with tremulous haste, and with one
accord all rushed into the street.

Scarcely knowing how it had befallen, the beggar child found himself
on the [pg 167]street with the others, running—running he knew not
whither, through empty streets which echoed his light footfalls as in
the dead of night.

Somewhere, afar off, there was the tumult of a great multitude. Tor
stopped to listen, then ran on, thinking of his Master, who was
waiting for him in the fast-gathering darkness.

He reached a gate—which gate he knew not, but it yawned wide and

unguarded. Not far away Tor could hear the frightened sobbing of
women, the strong curses of terrified men, the wailing of little
children, blending with the hurried trampling of myriad feet.
Suddenly athwart the darkness flamed a blood-red, silent flash
illumining the heavens from east to west. Against this lurid
background loomed three crosses, stark and black. And now across
the [pg 168]gloomy valleys sounded the sullen crash of rocks, the
fall of giant trees, while the sick earth groaned aloud and trembled
beneath its terrible burden.

Tor stood stock-still in the midst of the road. In that instant of frozen
horror he comprehended what had happened. “Oh, my Father,” he
groaned, the foundations of his childish faith reeling with the reeling
earth.

And the Omnipotent Love answered this feeble cry of the least of his
children, even as it answered that far-reaching, agonized appeal
which was sounding forth from Calvary. And so in a moment—or an
eternity—the heavens cleared and the April sun shone brightly upon
the crosses with their piteous burdens, upon the terror-stricken
multitudes returning to doomed Jerusalem, upon riven tombs and
shattered moun[pg 169]tains, upon a little child, comforted of his
Father, gazing with Christ-touched eyes upon the cross of his King.
They took away the body of Jesus before sunset, wrapping it in fine
white linen and odorous spices, and laying it to rest in a garden hard
by. Tor watched all, understanding little of the significance of the
rock-hewn tomb, of the great stone before its door, of the Roman
guard which was shortly stationed before the sealed sepulchre.
 “HIS WICKED FACE DISFIGURED WITH RAGE AND PAIN.”

When all was finished the child returned to the city, sustained by
some strange expectation which he could have explained to no one.
As he would have entered the gate he came upon a woeful figure
standing without and beating upon its breast. It was Chelluh, his
wicked face disfigured with rage and pain. “My eyes,” he groaned.
“The [pg 170]sight of that accursed cross burnt them like a
devouring flame.” And so it was. And so will it ever be. He who can
look upon that cross of agony without tears of love and pity,
henceforth sees only the blackness of darkness. The eyes of his soul
are withered.

Tor led the blind man to his old place by the gate, and fetched him
his cup, his staff, and his water-gourd.

“Now go, little dog, buy me oil and wine,” cried the beggar, with one
of his frightful maledictions, “and return to me quickly, for I am
devoured with this flame.”

But Tor, looking upon him sorrowfully, knew that he could no more
serve this evil master as in the old days. “I have done thus far for
thee,” he said in his clear childish voice, “because of the King, my
Master, and because of my [pg 171]Father in heaven. But I can no
longer abide in thy presence. Farewell!” And with this he was gone,
his naked feet making no sound upon the stones of the street.

Many days thereafter did Chelluh send forth his dolorous cry for alms
in the doomed city of Jerusalem, for he lived until the terrible days
of the Roman siege, perishing at last of hunger in his chosen place
by the Damascus gate.

In the green garden-close, hard by Calvary, where the Roman guard

paced ceaselessly back and forth before that silent tomb, Tor
lingered, unnoticed and unafraid as the birds that flitted among the
branches of the blossoming trees. It comforted him to be near the
resting-place of his Master; and the lusty life of the young summer
sent vague thrills of expectancy through his brown limbs, as [pg
172]he lay upon the warm earth watching the shifting leaf-shadows
playing upon the sealed door of the sepulchre, and the slow-moving
figures of the guard clad in the scarlet and gold of imperial Rome.

Toward midnight of the second night, when the great passover moon
rode high in the heavens and the garden slept in its silver light like
the garden of a dream, the child slept, too, held in the soft clasp of a
vision which laid cool fingers of delight on his drowsy lids. When he
awoke he lay for a full minute staring into the branches of the olive-
tree above his head. The gray-green leaves were all alive with a
tremulous motion in the fresh morning breeze; a newly-awakened
bird trilled softly somewhere in the depths of the garden; the
aromatic breath of serried lilies swept his cheek like a caress. It was
happiness [pg 173]to have slept—to be once more awake. Then he
remembered.

The Roman guard had disappeared; this much Tor perceived at a

single glance. A second searching stare told him much more: the
door of the tomb gaped wide, beside it stood a young man clad in
white garments.

Tor approached this radiant figure unafraid. “Where is the man who
opens eyes?” he asked quite simply, for the empty tomb appeared
nothing strange to the child newly emerged from his healing dreams.

“He is not here,” the young man made answer, with grave
sweetness. “He is risen, as he said. Behold he goeth before you into
Galilee; there shalt thou see him.”

Tor opened wide eyes of rapture upon the angel. “My Master is
alive!” he [pg 174]whispered to himself. “I shall see him.”

He turned as if in a dream, his naked feet making no sound as he

brushed, light as the dawn, past the ranks of lilies. There was a
woman yonder. She was weeping with a smothered sound of long-
drawn sobs. Tor laughed softly in his joy. “He is alive!” he repeated
under his breath.

Then he saw with wonder that the woman was no longer alone. She
was speaking to the Risen One, her voice wrenched with sobbing:
“Sir, if thou hast borne him hence, tell me where thou hast laid him,
and I will take him away.”

The child’s Christ-touched eyes knew him though the woman did
not. He sank to his knees, his face shining with the dazzling light of
the new day.

[pg 175]
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