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While Zarah was concluding these arrangements with Lycidas, Anna returned from Jerusalem. The face of the faithful servant expressed anxiety; a warning dropped in her ear by a Hebrew acquaintance had rendered her uneasy on account of her mistress. "Beware! dogs are on the scent of the deer." Heartily glad was the handmaid to find that the Athenian lord had come to aid the escape of Zarah; his talents, his courage, the gold which he so lavishly spent, would, as she thought, clear away all difficulties attending their flight.

The Greek soon left the lady and her attendant to make needful preparations for a journey so sudden and unexpected as that which was before them.

CHAPTER XXXI.
NIGHT TRAVELLING

The enforced hastiness of Zarah's departure rendered it perhaps less painful than it would otherwise have been. Zarah had little time to indulge in tender regrets on leaving a spot which memory still peopled with loved forms, giving a life to lifeless objects, making the table at which Hadassah had sat so often, the wheel at which she had spun, the plants that she had nurtured, things too precious to be parted from without a pang. There was little which Zarah could take with her in a litter; save the parchments, some articles of dress and her few jewels, all must be left behind.

Yet at this time of peril, while the wound inflicted by bereavement was yet unhealed, Zarah felt a spring of happiness which she had believed could never flow again, rising within her young heart. "Lycidas is an adopted son of Abraham! Lycidas, one of God's chosen people!" That thought sufficed to make Zarah's soft eyes bright and her step buoyant, to flood her spirit with hope and delight. Not that Zarah forgot Hadassah in her new sense of happiness; on the contrary, the memory of the sainted dead was linked with each thought of joy, and served to make it more holy.

"How Hadassah would have praised and blessed God for this!" reflected Zarah. "Her words were the seeds of truth which fell on the richest of soils, where the harvest now gladdens her child. It was she who first saved the precious life of my Lycidas, and then led his yet more precious soul to the Fount of Salvation! Had Lycidas never listened to the voice of my mother, he had been an idolater still!"

It was with more of pleasure than of apprehension that Zarah, timid as was her nature, anticipated the journey before her. Lycidas was to be her protector, Lycidas would be near her, his presence seemed to bring with it safety and joy.

"And may it not be thus with all the future journey of life?" whispered hope to the maiden. "Will Judas Maccabeus make any very strong opposition to the union of his kinswoman to a proselyte, when he finds that her happiness is involved in it, and that Lycidas will be a gallant defender of the faith which he has adopted as his own?" Zarah felt some anxiety and doubt upon this question, but nothing approaching to despair. The maiden had little idea of the intensity of the affection concentrated upon herself by one who was wont to restrain outward expression of his feelings; she feared that Judas might be offended and displeased, but never imagined that she had the power of making him wretched. Was such a mighty hero, such an exalted leader, likely to care for the heart of a simple girl? Love was a weakness to which Zarah deemed that so calm and lofty a being as Maccabeus could scarce condescend. But is the forest oak less strong and majestic because spring drapes its branches with thousands of blossoms, or are those blossoms less truly flowers because their hue is too like that of the foliage to strike a careless beholder? Maccabeus, with his thoughtful reserved disposition, would as little have talked of his affection for Zarah as he would of the pulsations of his heart; but both were a part of his nature, a necessity of his existence.

Joab was punctual to his appointment. An hour after dark the clatter of horses' hoofs was heard on the lonely hill-path which led to the house of Hadassah. Anna cautiously unclosed the door, peering forth anxiously to see whether those who came were friends or foes.

"It is my Lord Lycidas!" she joyfully exclaimed, as the horseman who rode in front drew his rein at the door.

The Athenian found Zarah and her attendant ready to start, and in a few minutes the two were seated in the horse-litter conducted by Joab, the crimson curtains were drawn, and the travellers departed from the lonely habitation upon their perilous journey.

The weather at this advanced season was cold, almost frosty, at night; but Lycidas was glad of the cessation of the heavy rains which had, as usual, heralded the approach of winter. The night was cloudless and clear, the azure vault was spangled with stars.

After some windings amongst the hills, the party entered the long valley of Rephaim, rich with corn-fields, vineyards, and orchards. The corn had long since been garnered, the grapes had been gathered, but the fig-trees were still laden with fruit. Zarah noticed little of the scenery around her, though brilliant star-light rendered it faintly visible. The rough motion of the litter over rocky roads precluded conversation, even had Zarah been disposed to enter into it with her attendant. The rocking of the litter rather invited sleep, and after the maiden had been for about an hour and a half slowly pursuing her journey, drowsiness was stealing over her, when she was startled by a sudden shock, which, though not violent, was sufficient somewhat to alarm, and thoroughly to arouse her.

"Has anything happened?" asked the maiden, partly drawing back one of the crimson curtains of her litter. Lycidas had dismounted, and was at her side in a moment.

"It is a trifling matter," he said; "be not alarmed, dear lady. One of the thongs has given way; Joab will speedily set all to rights; I only regret the delay."

"Where are we now?" asked Zarah.

"Close to the village of Bethlehem," was the Athenian's reply.

"Ah! I must look upon Bethlehem again!" cried Zarah with emotion, drawing the curtain further back, so as to obtain a wider view of the dim landscape of swelling hills and soft pastures. "My loved mother Hadassah was wont to bring me every year to this place; she called its stones the Memorial of the Past, and the Cradle of the Future."

"I know that Bethlehem is a place of great historical interest," observed Lycidas, glancing around; "it was here that David, the anointed shepherd, watched his flock, and encountered the lion and the bear. And it was here that the gentle Ruth gleaned barley amongst the reapers of Boaz." The young Greek was well pleased to show his recently-acquired knowledge of sacred story.

"Yes; my mother was wont to point out to me the very spots where events took place which must ever render them dear to the Hebrews," observed Zarah. "But Hadassah always said that the chief interest of Bethlehem lies in the future rather than in the past. It is here," Zarah reverentially lowered her voice as she went on – "it is here that Messiah the Prince shall be born, as has been revealed to us by a prophet."

"One would scarcely deem this village to be a place likely to be so honoured," observed Lycidas.

"Ah! you remind me of what my dear mother once said in reply to words of mine, spoken several years ago, when I was very young," said Zarah. "'It will be a long time before the Prince can come,' I observed, 'for I have looked on every side, and cannot see so much as the first stone laid of the palace in which He will be born.' – 'Think you, child,' said Hadassah, 'that a building ten thousand times more splendid than that raised by Solomon would add a whit to His glory? The presence of the king makes the palace, though it should be but a cave. Does it increase the value of the diamond if the earth in which it lies embedded show a few spangles of gold dust?' – I have never forgotten that gentle reproof," continued Zarah, "and it makes me look with something of reverence even on such a building as that mean inn which we see yonder, for who can say that the Prince of Peace may not be born even in a place so lowly!"

As Joab was still occupied in repairing the thong, Lycidas, standing bridle in hand beside Zarah's litter, went on with the conversation.

"The mind of Hadassah," he observed, "seemed especially to dwell upon humiliation, suffering and sacrifice in connection with the mysterious Being for whose advent she looked – we all look. If her view be correct, it may be possible that not only the death, but the earthly life of the Messiah may be one long sacrifice from the cradle to the grave."

The conversation then turned to themes less lofty, till Joab had succeeded in effecting the slight needful repairs. Lycidas then remounted his horse, and the party resuming their journey, Bethlehem was soon left behind them.

It is unnecessary to describe that night-journey, or tell how Lycidas and his companions passed the site of King Solomon's pleasure-grounds, his "gardens, and orchards and pools of water;" or how the road then led over the succession of barren hills which extend southward as far as Hebron. Travelling was slow and tedious, the road rough, and the horses grew weary. Lycidas was too anxious to place his charge in safety, to permit of a halt for refreshment and rest on the way. The Greek's uneasiness on Zarah's account was increased as, towards dawn, they met parties of peasants fleeing, as they said, from the Syrians, who, like a vast cloud of locusts, were carrying devastation through the land. Lycidas felt that danger was on all sides; he knew not whether to advance or to retreat; responsibility weighed heavily upon him, and he almost envied the stolid composure with which the hardy Joab trudged on his weary way. The Athenian would not disturb the serenity of Zarah's mind by imparting to her the anxious cares which perplexed his own. Lycidas was touched by the implicit confidence placed by the gentle girl in his power to protect and guide her; and he was thankful that while with him eye, ear, brain, were strained to the utmost to detect the most remote approach of danger, the weary Zarah in her litter was able to enjoy the refreshment of sleep.

CHAPTER XXXII.
FRIENDS OR FOES?

"Hold! stand! who are ye, and whither go ye?" was the stern challenge, the sound of which startled Zarah out of a pleasant dream. The motion of the litter suddenly ceased, a strong hand was on the bridle of the horse which Lycidas was riding, a weapon was pointed at the breast of the Greek. There was not yet sufficient light to enable him to distinguish whether those who thus arrested the further progress of the party were Syrians or Hebrews.

"We are quiet travellers," said the Athenian; "let us pursue our journey in peace. If gold be your object, I will give it."

"If we want your gold we can take it," cried the leader of the band that now surrounded the litter. "Are you a follower of Antiochus Epiphanes?"

"No," replied Lycidas boldly. To speak the simple truth is ever the manliest, and in this instance it also proved the safest course to pursue. The grasp on the Greek's bridle was relaxed, the point of the weapon was lowered, and in a more courteous tone the leader inquired, "Are you then a friend of Judas Maccabeus?"

"May he be given the necks of his enemies!" exclaimed Joab, before Lycidas had time to reply. "It is his kinswoman whom we are taking in this litter to Bethsura, that we may put her in safety out of reach of the tyrant who has sworn to slay her because she will not burn incense to his idol!"

"What, the lady Hadassah?" asked one of the men.

"No, it is more than six months since that Mother in Israel departed to

Abraham's bosom," replied Joab, lowering his tone.

An exclamation of regret burst from more than one of those who surrounded the litter, and he who had first spoken observed, "These will be sorry tidings for Maccabeus and his brethren."

Lycidas now addressed a Hebrew who appeared to be of superior condition to the others. "In this litter," he said, "is the grand-daughter of the lady Hadassah. She is fleeing from persecution, and seeks an asylum in the home of an aged relative who dwells near Bethsura."

"Ah! Rachel the widow; we know her well," was the reply.

"Then you can guide this lady to her abode."

"Guide her into the wolf's den!" exclaimed the Hebrew; and one of his companions added with a laugh, "The only way to reach Rachel's dwelling from hence is over the corpses of defeated Syrians, as mayhap we shall do ere to-morrow."

Alarmed at finding that he had conducted Zarah to the scene of an expected deadly conflict, Lycidas inquired with anxiety, "Where then can the lady and her attendant find shelter and protection?"

"For protection, she has all that our swords can give – our fate must be her fate," replied the Hebrew whom the Greek had addressed. "As for shelter, there is a goatherd's hut hard by. Some of our men have passed the night there, though our leader slept on the ground."

There was some whispering amongst the Hebrews, and Lycidas caught the words, uttered in a half-jesting tone, "An awkward matter for Maccabeus to have this his fair kinswoman coming on the eve of a battle on which the fate of Judah depends."

"I pray you show us this hut at once," said the Greek, annoyed at Zarah's being exposed to such observations, and impatient to remove her as soon as possible to a place of as much retirement as could be found in the camping-ground of an army. "The lady has travelled all night, and is weary."

"I will lead her to the hut," said one of the Hebrews; "and do you, Saul," he continued, addressing a companion, "go at once and announce to our prince the lady's arrival."

Again the litter of Zarah moved onwards, and the weary horses were guided to a hut at no great distance. One of the Jewish soldiers ran on before to give notice, that the dwelling might be vacated of its warlike occupants, and put into such order for the reception of a lady as circumstances and haste would permit. The Hebrews who had passed the frosty night under the roof of the goatherd's dwelling, quitted it at once to make room for the lady and her handmaid, leaving a portion of their simple breakfast for the newly-arrived guests.

A homely care occupied the mind of Zarah on her way to the hut.

"Anna," she said to her attendant, "we are much beholden to Joab, and I have no shekels wherewith to pay for the hire of the litter and horses, or to requite him for his faithful service. It is not meet that the Lord Lycidas should be at charges for me. Let Joab speak to me when I quit the litter, or do you give him this jewel from me."

The jewel was a massive silver bracelet, which had been worn by the unhappy Pollux. Zarah had selected this from the other ornaments which had belonged to her parents, on account of the weight of metal which it contained. There was also something heathenish in the fashion of the bracelet itself, which made the Hebrew maiden care not to keep it as a remembrance of her father.

"Joab is not here," said Anna, glancing from between the curtains; "he has given up the guidance of the horses to one of the Hebrew warriors."

Joab had in fact gone off with Saul, being eager to be the first to carry to Judas Maccabeus intelligence of what had occurred in Jerusalem since they had parted beside the martyrs' grave, and especially of the momentous events which had occurred in the family of Hadassah.

"If I cannot see Joab himself," observed Zarah, "I must ask the Lord Lycidas to find him and do this my errand, for the muleteer must not go unrewarded by me."

Accordingly, after the maiden, assisted by Lycidas, had descended from her litter, and explored with Anna the goatherd's abode, she bashfully asked her protector to execute for her this little commission, and with the heavy silver bracelet requite her obligation to Joab. "To yourself," added Zarah with downcast eyes, "I can proffer but heartfelt thanks."

The spirits of Lycidas had risen: with him, as with nature, the gloom of night was now succeeded by the brilliance of morning. The rebound of a mind lately weighed down with intense anxiety and the pressure of heavy responsibility was so great that it seemed as if every care were flung off for ever. Lycidas had accomplished his dangerous mission; he had placed his beloved charge under the care of her relatives; and he felt assured that her heart was his own. The clang of martial preparation which he now heard around him was as music to the ardent spirit of the Greek. He was now going to join in a brave struggle under a heroic commander, to deserve Zarah, and then to win her! The heart of the gallant young Athenian beat high with hope.

"Nay, Zarah," said Lycidas gaily, in reply to the maiden's words; "I may one day claim from you something better than thanks. As for the bracelet, rest assured that I will well requite faithful Joab; he shall be no loser if I keep the jewel in pledge, and never part with it, save to my bride." Lycidas clasped the bracelet on his arm, as with a proud and joyous step he quitted the goatherd's hut.

"Stay, Lycidas," expostulated Zarah, following him over the threshold; but then arresting her steps, and watching his receding form for a moment with a smile as radiant as his own. "How could he fear a rival!" was the thought flitting through Zarah's mind as she gazed. She then turned to re-enter the hut, and saw before her – Judas Maccabeus!

CHAPTER XXXIII.
THE LEADER AND THE MAN

In the unsettled state of the Holy Land, where its brave sons had to maintain a kind of guerrilla warfare against the powerful enemy who held its strongholds and ruled in its capital – where communication between places not far remote from each other was difficult and dangerous, and a written letter was a thing almost unknown – the Asmonean brothers had been in ignorance of many events which have occupied a large space in these pages. Joab, therefore, on his arrival in the camp of the Hebrews, had much to tell that was to them entirely new.

Judas with thrilling interest had listened to the muleteer's account of Zarah's peril and escape from the palace of Antiochus, and the deaths of Hadassah and Pollux. The fount of tenderness which lay concealed under the chief's usually calm and almost stern exterior was stirred to its inmost depths. Grief, admiration, love, swelled his brave heart. Maccabeus could hardly wait to hear the end of Joab's narration. Zarah was near him – his beauteous, his beloved, his chosen bride – she who had so suffered and so mourned – the tender orphan maiden bereaved of all love, all protection save his own – but dearer in her poverty and desolation than she could have been had she brought him the dowry of an empire!

It was thus that Maccabeus thought of Zarah, as, with an eagerness of impatience which could not have brooked an instant's longer delay, he strode rapidly towards the hut which sheltered his treasure. He soon beheld her – could it indeed be she? No desolate, weeping, trembling fugitive met the gaze of the chief; but a maiden bright and fair as the morn, with a blush on her cheeks and a smile on her lips, her whole countenance beaming with hope, and her eyes fixed with a lingering look on a Greek who was disappearing from view in a direction opposite to that by which Judas had approached her! The depths of the leader's feelings were again stirred, but this time as by a bar of glowing red-hot iron.

"Who is yon Gentile?" was the sudden fierce exclamation which burst from the warrior's lips.

Never before had her kinsman looked so terrible to Zarah as when he startled her then by his sudden appearance. It was not because she now saw Maccabeus for the first time arrayed in the harness of battle, his tall powerful frame partly sheathed in glittering steel, and a plumed helmet on his head, giving him a resemblance to the description which she had heard from Lycidas of the fabled god of war; it was the eye, the manner, the tone of Judas that changed the smile of the maiden in a moment to a look of embarrassment and fear. Antiochus himself, on his judgment-seat, had scarcely appeared more formidable to the trembling captive before him, than did the kinsman who had come to welcome her, and who would have died to shield her from wrong!

Maccabeus repeated his stern question before Zarah found courage to reply. "That is Lycidas, the Athenian lord," she faltered; "he whom you spared by the martyrs' tomb. He has well requited your mercy. He protected and aided Hadassah to the end, and paid the last honours to her dear remains; he struck down the Syrian who slew my father. Lycidas has embraced the Hebrew faith, and has come to fight, and, if need be, to die in the Hebrew cause!"

The maiden spoke rapidly, and with a good deal of nervous excitement. She did not venture to glance up again into the face of her kinsman to see the effect of her explanation, for all the false hopes regarding his indifference with which she had buoyed herself, had vanished like a bubble at a touch. Maccabeus did not at once reply. Silently he led Zarah back into the hut, and motioned to her to take her seat upon a low heap of cushions which Anna had removed from the litter, and placed on the earthen floor for the accommodation of her young mistress. He then dismissed the attendant by a wave of his hand. The profound gloomy silence of her kinsman was by no means re-assuring to Zarah, who felt much as a criminal might feel in presence of a judge – albeit in regard to her conduct towards Lycidas her conscience was clear.

Maccabeus stood before Zarah, the shadow of his form falling upon the maiden, as he towered tween her and the light, gloomily gazing down upon her.

"Zarah," he said at last, "there must be no concealment between us. You know in what relation we stand to each other. You have told me what that Gentile has been to Hadassah, and to Abner your father; tell me now, What is he to you?"

Zarah struggled to regain her courage, though she knew not how deeply her evident fear of him wounded the spirit of her kinsman. She did not dare to answer his question directly. "Lycidas is not a Gentile," she said; "he is, as you are, a servant of God, a true believer; he has been fully admitted into all the privileges held by our race."

"Even the privilege of wedding a Hebrew maiden?" inquired Maccabeus with slow deliberation.

Zarah fancied that his tone was less stern, and was thankful that Judas had been the one to break ground upon so delicate a subject.

"Hadassah would not have blamed us," she said simply, blushing deeply as she spoke.

Notwithstanding what had just passed, Zarah was utterly unprepared for the effect of what was in fact an artless confession. It was not a groan nor a cry that she heard, but a sound that partook of the nature of both; a sound that the last turn of the rack could not have forced from the breast that uttered it now! It was the expression of an agony which few hearts have affections strong enough to feel, fewer still could have fortitude to sustain. No death-wail, no cry of woe, no shriek of pain that Zarah had ever listened to, smote on her soul like that sound! She heard it but once – it was never heard but once – and before she had recovered from the shock which it gave her, Judas had rushed forth from the hut. He was as one possessed; so fierce were the demons of jealousy and hatred that for a space held reason, conscience, every power of mind and soul in subjection. One wild desire to kill his rival, to tear him limb from limb, seemed all that had any definite form in that fearful chaos of passion. It was well for Lycidas that he did not then cross the path of the lion!

Maccabeus plunged into the depths of a wood that was near, seeking instinctively the thickest shade afforded by evergreen trees. He would fain have buried his anguish from the sight of man in the darkest cavern – in the deepest grave! The very sunlight was oppressive!

All lost – all rent away from him for ever! What hope had clung to, what love had treasured through the long, long years of waiting, giving new courage to the brave, new energy to the weary! Youth, happiness, the cup of joy just filled to the brim by the coming of Zarah, without one moment's warning dashed from the lips of him who loved her, and the last drops sucked up by the thirsty sand! The miseries of a long life seemed to be crowded into the few minutes during which the leader of the Hebrews, the hope of Judah, lay prostrate on the earth, clinching the dust in his despair.

Hatred and jealousy raged within; and a yet darker demon had joined them, one whose presence, above all others, makes the soul as a hell! Like burning venom-drops fell the suggestions of rebellious unbelief upon the spirit of the disappointed man. "Is it for this that you have washed your hands in innocency, and kept your feet in the paths of truth? Is it for this that you have devoted all your powers to God and your country, have shrunk from no toil, and dreaded no danger? He whom you were faithfully serving hath not watched over your peace, nor guarded for you that treasure which you had confided to his care. What profit is there in obedience, what benefit in devotion? Prayer has been but vanity, and faith but self-deception!"

Such moments as these are the most terrible in the experience of a servant of the Lord. They afford a glimpse of the depths of guilt and misery to which the noblest human soul would sink without sustaining grace; they show that, like the brightest planet, such soul shines not with light of its own, but with an imparted radiance, deprived of which it would be enveloped in utter darkness. An Abraham, left to himself, could lie; a David stain his soul with innocent blood. All need the Sacrifice of Atonement, all require the grace which comes from above.

But Judas Maccabeus was not left unaided to be carried away to an abyss of crime by his own wild passions. They were as a steed accustomed to obey the rein of conscience, that, smitten with agonizing pain, has taken the bit into its teeth, and rushed madly towards a precipice. But the hand of its rider still grasps the bridle, his eye sees the danger in front, and the frantic animal beneath him has but for a brief space burst from his master's powerful constraint. If the rider cannot otherwise stop his wild steed, he will strike it down with a heavy blow, that by a lesser fall the greater may be avoided; and so he leads it back to its starting-place, quivering, trembling in every limb, the sweat on its flanks, the foam on its bit, but subdued, submissive, under command. Even so with the Hebrew chief, conscience regained its habitual sway over the passions; as soon as the anguish of his soul found vent in prayer, the crisis of danger was past. Maccabeus rose from the earth, pale as one who has received a death-wound, but submissive and calm.

"Shall one who has been so favoured, beyond his hopes, far beyond his deserts, dare to repine at the decree of Him who orders all things in wisdom and goodness?" Thus reflected the chief. "Who am I, that I should claim exemption from disappointment and loss? Shame on the leader who gives way to selfish passion, and at such a time as this! We shall shortly close in battle; and if in that battle I fall" (the thought brought strange consolation), "how shall I look back from the world of spirits on that which for a time could almost shake the trust of this unworthy heart in the God of my fathers? If I survive the perils of the day, better it is that there should be no selfish hopes, no selfish cares, to prevent me from concentrating all my energies and thoughts upon the work appointed me to do. I have been wasting my time in idle dreams of earthly enjoyment; I have been rudely awakened. O Lord of hosts, strengthen Thy servant to arise and gird up his spirit to perform fearlessly and faithfully the duties of the day!"

Then, with slower step and calmer aspect, Judas Maccabeus returned to his camp.