XLIA STRANGE VISITOR
Therewere strange visitors in Jerusalem during these days—Sheikhs from beyond the Dead Sea, with turbans as big as cartwheels, which might furnish linen, if not enough for a tent to live in, at least for one's winding-sheet when dead; chiefs from beyond the Lebanons, with silken head-housing of flaming colors, bound about the temples with ropes of wool inwoven with silver and gold threads; men wearing helms of leather, which capped closely their thick, short hair, and having short tunics bound about their loins with belts of hide from which hung heavy half swords—these last from the west, where Rome was challenging both Alexandria and Antioch for the mastery of the world. Such persons were drawn to Jerusalem by the fame of Judas; for men wondered if a new star had appeared which would change the shape of the constellation of the nations.
Very different in bearing from these warlike and courtly visitors were two persons who one day accompanied Judas on the street, going toward the house of Elkiah—a lame lad clattering on his crutch and an old man tottering on his staff.
"I found him a day's journey—for a fox—to the north—nigh on to Bethel," said Meph, his sentences broken by the slipping of his crutch from projecting stones into mud-holes, of which things in about equal proportion the pavement of the streets of Jerusalem then consisted. "I treed him——"
"Treed him? Our friend doesn't look like a climbing animal," replied Judas, laughing.
"Yes, I treed him; that is, I got him under a tree. I knew that a man like him—would rest more than he would walk—and—I believe—I got my eyes on every tree big enough to cast shadow over a cony—between here and Bethel before I spied him. I thought he was dead—for he didn't hear me come, and I make as much noise—Jonathan says—as a broken-wheeled chariot. And he would have died—sure—but for some of this stuff"—producing from his jacket next the skin some fragments of black bread. "But even then he couldn't talk until I had given him—but, Judas, you won't put me under arrest if I show you something?"
"No, Meph; you are not enrolled as a soldier, so have a right to whatever you find."
"Then look at this!" said he, jerking from somewhere under his shirt a flask of bluish bronze inlaid with patterns of mother of pearl. "I found this on the crest above Emmaus. Phew! Isn't it fine? I'll wager you that General Gorgias himself dropped that. Well, I knew there was something good in it—so I just put it to the old man's mouth. My! it oiled up his tongue so that he talked faster than I can—on these stones. And he told me of sailing on the sea—and riding camels on the desert—and of beasts bigger than houses—with tails on both ends—which trampled to death whole companies of soldiers with a single step on them."
"Elephants," interjected Judas. "The old manhas travelled far if he has seen these monsters. They say the King has sent some of them to Governor Lycias for his next fight with us."
"Whew!" whistled the boy. "Can I go and see them?"
"Maybe——"
"Well," resumed Meph, "when the liquor had dried out of his throat—the old man stopped—and I couldn't get another word out of him except 'Dion! Captain Dion!' I told him I knew a Captain Dion. Then he got up and went with me—for about a furlong when—he fell down—and so up and down—up and down—we went all day—and all night, too—for he wouldn't stop until he got here."
The old man was stumbling on with Judas' strong arm beneath his shoulder, now and then putting his hand to his ear, trying to catch what Meph was saying.
A few moments later they were within the house. The stranger was utterly exhausted, but, though unable to rise from the couch upon which they had laid him, his eyes were alert to everything. He studied the furniture as if it had memories stored in its carvings. The faces about him seemed to disappoint him, but each swing of the curtain of the chamber riveted his attention. He ate and drank a little of what Deborah brought him; then fell asleep, muttering in his dream:
"It's Dion I want. Don't take it, my child. Wait—wait; I will find you. The sea is not wide enough nor the mountains high enough—for Gideon ben Sirach is strong yet."
Though broken, his sleep was long. The sun went down, the night passed, and still he slept.
"I fear he will not awake again," said Samuel, the physician. "The breathing is heavy, and grows shorter. His secret is his and God's."
"So let it be!" said Dion. "I don't know how it can concern me. I do not care to know any mystery that may have been over my past life, since now I have come into a clearer light. I could well wish that all the past were forgotten, and that life could begin to-day."
"So it may, friend Dion," replied the physician. "If God can forget anything, will not that make it as if it had never been? Read our Scriptures. How often the Lord says, 'I will not remember.' Where go the clouds when the north wind blows upon them? But saith the Lord, 'I will blot out as a thick cloud thy transgression.'"
"It is a good word," said Dion. "I would trust it. But see, our pilgrim stirs."
A slight tremor ran through the old man's frame.
"This is death!" whispered Samuel.
The physician's look, which had hitherto denoted only anxiety for his patient's recovery, quickly changed. It was now not less eager, but one merely of curiosity. He held the patient's wrists, and brought his face close for a study of death.
Though Samuel knew that the flight of a soul cannot be followed, he gazed intently as if to detect its direction in starting, or at least to note which fibres of flesh longest retained their grasp of a departing spirit.
But he was baffled. The sleeper suddenly threw his arms above his head, hard knit his hands, then drew in a deep breath and expelled it with a groan.
"No! He lives! The sleep has only refreshed him!" cried Samuel.
"Has Gideon ben Sirach rested well?" he asked, bending over him.
The man gazed stupidly at the physician, then with a yawn fell asleep again.
"Well, let him rest, and when he wakes we will have his story, if it takes some of the medicine from Gorgias' flask to start it."
"Doubtless," said Dion, "his story will prove only a dream that has oozed out from some crack in his brain. We shall need one of your Josephs or Daniels to interpret it."
"If it is so obscure as that we will summon Meph," replied the physician. "That boy seems able to solve riddles with a punch of his crutch."