XXXITHE SHEIKHS
Deborah'sflight from the city had not been for her own personal safety, else she would have taken Caleb with her. When she emerged from the crevice, instead of going northward toward the fastnesses of the Maccabæans, she turned to the east, at first keeping close to the city wall. The night was dark except for the occasional flashes of lightning, the couriers of a coming storm. In the momentary glare she took in the stations of the few Greek sentinels who patrolled the immediate fields. They were looking for no danger from the direction of the walls, but peered outward, questioning with spear-point every shadow which the sudden flashes projected beyond the rocks and bushes.
It was thus not difficult for Deborah to reach without detection the extreme northeastern angle of the city. She here sat down to watch for opportunity to pass unobserved into the open ground beyond. She thought of the old walls at her back, worn by the storms of centuries, and broken by the war-shocks of many generations; the armored forms close to her, each one like the claw of the monster power of Syria which was crushing, tearing, devouring the nation; the great black sky overhead, like some flying dragon, so vast as to cover and smother the land. How little was she! Only a single fibre in the writhing flesh of the victim! Her life was soinsignificant! Doubtless before many days she would lay it down, if she remained in the city; perhaps sooner on this adventure.
Her fingers felt between them a tiny berry. "I am less than this," she thought, "for it may abide when I am gone. Yet if I press this seed down into the dirt, it will breed life in its decay. May I not yield something if I fall? What now if I can bring to Judas a hundred men! That will be worth dying for! He would not allow me to make this venture if he knew it. That is well; then that brave heart cannot bear the blame if it miscarry. So I give my life to God and His cause."
She pressed the berry into the ground, and smoothed the dirt above it with her hand.
The lightning split the heavens with terrific shock. A tower above the eastern gate caught the bolt as a shield would ward a flaming dart. The rain came down in torrents. The sentinels retired closer to the walls, drawing nearer together as their line shortened. In a moment Deborah would be discovered! But while their eyes were dazed by another crash she pushed boldly between them and ran.
"What was that?" said a soldier. "I must have stepped upon a jackal."
"It was as big and black as a wolf," was his comrade's reply. "They say the dead Jews' ghosts come back to the city in wolf shapes."
"I heard one the other night. He seemed, from the noise he made, to be walking on two legs with a crutch; but when I came to him he darted in among the bushes, and back to Hades; for there wasn't a sign of him above ground."
Deborah sped down the long slope from the citywall to the Kedron, and across it, and up the side of Olivet. She did not see her way, yet kept it, following every turn of the footpath; for she dared not venture upon the high-road, knowing this to be sentinelled. When she heard any sound on the beaten track she crossed the fields, over ditches, around boulders, past garden walls of dried clay. She did not stumble, though she gave no heed to where she stepped. Were her senses and muscles preterhumanly alert, as those of a swallow skimming the ground and striking nothing? Did instinct assert itself over the slower-paced judgment, as in the case of frightened deer and homing pigeons? Did the angels bear her up in their hands according to the promise? She asked not, nor did she even wonder. The inner light of her purpose was so strong that her soul dominated all physical limitation—for a while. At length on Olivet, midway the ascent, she fell utterly exhausted. Then she first realized the weakness of the flesh, and rebelled against it. How long it took to steady the panting breath! and for the heart to stop its violent beating!
After a few moments' rest she rose. Her feet were stones in weight. Would that they had been as hard! for a sharp pain drew her attention to the fact that one foot had broken its sandal, and was bruised and bleeding. She could not run; she trudged on.
She came out upon the broad road, and passed through Bethany. No one accosted her, for the once happy village was now deserted. Even the dogs had followed the people when they fled from the invaders.
The day broke. The road grew white with its dust, then ruddy with the coming light. Her faintness told her that she hungered, and she remembered that she had made provision for this. She drew from her bosom a handful of bread and dates, and ate. At a spring, where once had stood a khan, she drank amid a circle of bewildered sheep, which bleated and stared at this intruder of what for many months had been their solitude.
She must rest; yet what if she should be too late? Already the tribesmen about Jericho might have begun to fulfil their threat, and move against Judas. These men had been the enemies of her people for ages. Not since Joshua crossed their plain had they been at peace, except at times when the degenerate Jews mingled their blood in marriage with that of these heathen. Toward the Chasidim, those extremists who would purge the land of all but the pure stock of Israel, these tribes had sworn special hatred. Now that the Maccabæans were facing new armies of Syria, the rumor of the fields became the open boast in Jerusalem, that the whole population of the Jordan valley was about to assail Judas' rear; for Antiochus' gold had corrupted every Sheikh from the Sea of Galilee to the Sea of Salt.
And who was she, a girl, to turn these fierce fighters from their remorseless purpose? A straw to change the course of the Jordan! A child's hand to divert from its path an avalanche on the slope of Hermon. Yet a child's hand can give direction to an avalanche, by breaking the frozen front in this or yonder ravine. Doubtless the child would be swept away by the descending mass; but what mattered that?
Though her limbs scarcely obeyed her will to rise, Deborah could not rest. She might be too late. This fear suddenly became almost a terrible conviction. There were clattering hoof-beats on the hard roadway. She concealed herself behind the ruined wall of the khan. Two horsemen rode slowly up, pausing upon an adjacent knoll, and inspecting the country far and wide. Their horses were almost hidden beneath their housings of network and tassels. This, however, did not conceal the long and slender limbs and narrow flanks of the beasts, their broad, deep breasts and thick necks, which showed that they were of that thorough breed for the rearing of which the Arabs had already become famous.
The two riders were swarthy, almost black. One was young, his sparse beard fringing and breaking the perfect oval of his face. The other was old, unless the deep lines across his brow, like the valleys and gorges about him, had been made by sudden convulsions, the sharp crises of his life. The youth's eyes were like the fountain beside which they stopped—sparkling, yet calm and fully exposed. The old man's eyes were like the pools which one, standing on the cliffs, sees gleaming far down in the deep gorge of the Kedron, as that stream cuts its way through the mountains of rocks which would bar its progress to the Sea of Salt.
In dismounting the elder man seemed the younger, so quick was his motion in taking the long lance from its rest, and planting it in the ground as the tether post for his steed.
"Neither Jews nor Greeks are concerning themselves with us to-day. That is clear, father," said the younger man.
"It is true, then," said the veteran, "that they are both looking for a battle to the west. Judas' men were only yesterday scouring this part of the country, but they are now withdrawn. That means that the Maccabæan expects another fight with the Greeks speedily, for Judas never calls in his men until he wants them to strike. They are like the fingers on his hand; they turn into a fist only for the blow. We will ride back, Nadan, and advise the camps to move against the Maccabæan to-morrow."
Deborah heard this with consternation. The man was surely Sheikh Yusef, the Arab, the fiercest of the tribesmen of the valley. She must act instantly.
A slight groan attracted the attention of the men. Turning the corner of the ruined wall they detected her crouching form.
"Who is here? By my beard, a woman!"
Deborah rose, and with clasped hands, exclaimed:
"Your pity! Do not harm me!"
"Who are you?" said Yusef. "And what brought you to such a place?"
"I am fleeing from Jerusalem. I am the daughter of Elkiah."
"Elkiah's daughter a fugitive, and in such a plight? Has your brother turned you out? We had heard that he was in high feather with his new friends."
"Alas!" said Deborah, "my brother is himself endangered. All are in danger there. Have you not heard?"
"We have heard nothing. Tell us."
"Not heard!" said Deborah, in feigned surprise. "The Romans, the strong people from the west,from over the Great Sea, from beyond Cyprus, beyond Greece, are coming. It is reported that their fleets are seen from the shore; that they have overcome the Syrian ships; that they have made alliance with Egypt; that vast armies, the armies that destroyed Perseus, are about to march through the desert, and come upon Syria by way of the valley. The Greeks in Jerusalem distrust the Jews who have submitted. They believe that my people have played them false, and will turn to the Romans. Meton is slaughtering us."
The two Arabs looked at each other with faces that showed perplexity. They withdrew to a little distance. Deborah could not catch all their words, but enough to know that her ruse was not altogether futile. However well bribed with Greek gold, the tribesmen would not risk the alliance of Antiochus if this new power of Rome were to come upon the scene. The Republic of the West was regarded as invincible along the Great Sea, but had not yet essayed to strike Asia. If the crash of empires were to take place it were wise for the nomadic peoples to throw themselves with neither Greek nor Roman until there were some signs as to which power would prove the stronger.
The older man remounted.
"But, father, we cannot leave the daughter of Elkiah here," said the younger. "She must go with us."
Deborah had risen to her feet. The hood dropped from her head. Was it her grateful look, or only her surpassing beauty, that held the young Arab?
"You will go with us? You can ride?" said he.
"Nay, I must go to my kinsman, Ben Aaron ofMasada. To seek refuge there I have fled. Tell me the shortest way, I beg of you."
"To Masada? That is a long journey, and rough, and full of dangers. You cannot go there alone."
Nadan held rapid speech with old Yusef, the conclusion of which was this, on his part:
"It is true we must not leave her here, nor can we delay. Take you the woman, Nadan. Cross the gorge of Kedron. By the night you can be at Masada, and by the morning back with us. Nadan, the woman is comely. Were I not needed with the people, she should share my saddle, not yours. No loitering, my son. My salutation to Ben Aaron, the damned Jew!—but it is unwise to damn him in the present emergency. His castle on Masada will be the strongest in the wilderness—when we get it. Speak him fair, and let the gift of his kinswoman be a pledge of peace between us—until we see fit to break it. That woman's breath on your cheek ought to give you soft words for Ben Aaron."
He placed his long lance in its resting strap, bowed his head to the neck of his steed—both a salaam to the woman and a signal of haste to the beast—and disappeared over the hill like an autumn leaf whirled away by the wind.