"I know it," she exclaimed; "I know the worst. My father has fallen, and I am an orphan indeed!"
"It is but too true, my Naomi," replied Marcellus; "Zadok has fallen bravely, in the defence of his hallowed altar. I saw his reverend form, and I secured it from insult; it was all that I could do. And see," he added, drawing forth the well-known manuscript, "this sacred volume was near his heart; may we hope that its truths were known and valued there?"
"God grant it!" cried the weeping Naomi. "He had ceased to despise them, but the Lord alone knows how far he had received them. His soul was devoted to the service of God in sincerity and truth, and I trust that it is now rejoicing in His presence."
"And your mother, Naomi, has she also departed from this world."
"But yesterday she was laid beneath this turf, Marcellus; I may not mourn for her, for she died in the faith of our Lord Jesus Christ, and her end was full of blessedness."
"The Lord be praised!" said Marcellus. "Naomi, my father will be a father to you; and it will be my happy task to cheer your spirit, after all that you have suffered. The night of affliction has been very dark around you, my love; but we may hope that a joyful morning will yet dawn forth even in this world, and that our future lives may show our gratitude to the Lord, who has brought us through so many trials, and permitted us at length to meet each other though in circumstances of so much sorrow. Come, Theophilus, my long-lost brother, we must return to the house, and take measures for its security; and you shall tell me how it is that I see you here alive—you who have so long been wept as dead, and mourned for by the widowed heart of my poor sister."
Theophilus gave his friend a short relation of his preservation and subsequent existence in the prison, and in his turn he heard from Marcellus of all that Claudia had suffered on his account, and of her faithful and undying affection for him. When they entered the house, their discourse was interrupted by the sounds of violence and cries of terror that issued from the streets. The Roman soldiers had rushed down from the temple, and were slaying all whom they could overtake. The houses on every side were in flames; and it was only the presence of the troops who were stationed in the court, that had preserved the noble dwelling of Zadok from pillage and destruction. But the conflagration was spreading around, and ere long the fire must reach the building. It was no longer a safe retreat for Naomi; and Marcellus determined to convey her and Deborah, without loss of time, beyond the walls of the city to some place of security. He hastily prepared a litter; and having carefully concealed Naomi and her attendant from the eyes of the now ungovernable soldiery who paraded the streets, he caused his men to bear it towards the water-gate, while he and Theophilus guarded it with drawn swords on each side. It was with considerable difficulty and frequent opposition from the excited legionaries, that they succeeded in reaching the gate. The guards appointed to defend it had fled, and they passed out into the desolate valley, once verdant with gardens and orchards. When Naomi knew that she was beyond the reach of danger, she withdrew the drapery that surrounded her, and looked around on the scenes so familiar and so dear. All was changed; not a vestige remained of what had been so beautiful and luxuriant, and the red light of the burning city fell only on a barren desert. The valley was traversed, and Marcellus with his companions reached the Roman camp at the north of the city, as the first rays of morning dawned on the work of destruction that had been accomplished in the preceding night. In his father's tent he established Naomi and Deborah; and leaving them to the care of Theophilus, he returned again to the city, and joined his commander.
The whole Roman army encamped that day in the sacred precincts of the temple, and planted their victorious eagles among the smoking ruins. A sacrifice was offered to their false deities in the sanctuary of the Lord of Hosts, and loud acclamations proclaimed the victory of Titus. The immense value of the spoils with which each soldier was enriched, greatly increased their joy: so vast was the amount of the treasures they had obtained, that gold became as brass among these soldiers. In the midst of their loud rejoicings, their attention was attracted by the sight of a small party of priests and others on the top of a wall to which they had escaped. For five days these miserable beings remained in that situation, until starvation induced them to come down and implore for mercy. Isaac, the cruel, hard-hearted Isaac, was among them; and he entreated for life with an abject fear that excited the scorn of the Romans. It was unavailing, Titus would not listen to their supplications, and they were immediately executed.
A number of the Zealots had escaped to the upper city with their leader, and there they still defied the Romans. There were numerous and extensive subterranean passages beneath that part of the city; and the hopes of the insurgents rested in these for their preservation. It would be a repetition of scenes already described to narrate the sufferings of those who were cooped up within the walls of Sion. All the miseries of a second siege were endured; and it was not until the 7th of September that the Romans ascended the wall with shouts of triumph, and rushed through the streets, slaying and destroying as they went. But little plunder was found in this quarter: the houses were filled with putrid bodies of whole families who had died of hunger; and after gazing on the massy towers and walls of which he was now the master, Titus gave orders that the whole city should be razed to the ground and utterly destroyed, except three towers, which were left standing as monuments of the conquest.
The multitude of prisoners was embarrassing to the conquerors; and after a selection had been made of the tallest and most powerful-looking of the insurgents, to grace the triumphal return of Titus to the capital, a vast number of these rebels were put to death. The old and infirm, both of men and women, shared the same fate; and of the rest of the prisoners, many thousands were sent to the mines in various parts of the empire, or distributed among the provinces to fight as gladiators for the amusement of the populace. The number of the captives amounted to ninety-seven thousand; of those who were slain or died of famine throughout the siege the number has been computed at no less than our million one hundred thousand!
Still the chief objects of search to the Roman soldiers, and those on whom they especially thirsted to glut their vengeance, seemed to elude their pursuit. Neither John of Gischala nor the son of Gioras was to be found amid the ruins of the city. John had sought refuge in the subterranean caverns, with a multitude of his adherents. The Romans discovered the entrance to some of these caves, and endeavoured to penetrate them, but the pestilential effluvia that proceeded from the putrid corpses that choked the passages drove them back. At length John, and his brothers who had followed him to his retreat, came forth, reduced by starvation, and surrendered to the victors on a promise of mercy. This promise was performed, and the atrocious John was spared, but condemned to perpetual imprisonment.
It was supposed that Simon had expired in one of the caverns, and the search was suspended. Titus prepared to leave the ruined city, and Marcellus rejoiced that at length he might remove his beloved Naomi from a scene where every object that met her view was a memorial of former happiness and recent calamity. The fate of her brother weighed heavily on her mind; there was no hope of his being yet alive; but every search that Marcellus had caused to be made for his body had proved ineffectual, and Naomi was forced to leave the place in uncertainty whether he had perished or been sent off to the provinces as a captive. She was treated by Rufus with the kindest attention, and everything was done by those around her to reconcile her to her situation; but her heart had been too severely wounded to recover its natural strength and elasticity thus early. She had much to lament, as well as much to be grateful for; and Marcellus did not love her less because she was frequently so much absorbed in her melancholy reflections as to be insensible even to the pleasure of his society. She remained entirely secluded with Deborah in Rufus's tent, or travelled, concealed in a litter, until the army arrived at Cæsarea, on the coast, where Titus paused for some time before he proceeded to Cæsarea Philippi. Marcellus then applied for leave of absence for himself and his father, that they might escort Naomi to her friends at Ephesus, and the permission was readily obtained. Happily a vessel was in the port, bound for Ephesus, and in this they all embarked, and sailed away from the desolated land of Judea, towards the spot where Naomi and Theophilus hoped to meet all their surviving relatives, and to be once more united to those so dear to them both.
After their departure a messenger arrived at Cæsarea from the ruined metropolis, with intelligence that Simon and one of his officers had been discovered. A party of the Roman soldiers who were left encamped in the ruined city had been startled one day as they were reposing amid the blackened and tottering walls of the temple, by seeing a man of dignified appearance, and clothed in a rich robe of purple, over a white garment, rise suddenly among them, as if from the earth. At the first moment their superstitious fears led them to believe that it was a spectre, but on their demanding the name of the apparition, he replied, "Simon, the son of Gioras."
He had descended a secret passage on the total defeat of his party, and with several others had remained concealed ever since that time. The provisions which they had taken with them had failed, and none of his companions remained alive except Javan, who followed his chief from their retreat, and they both surrendered themselves into the hands of Terentius Rufus, who held the command of the troops remaining at Jerusalem. Simon had hoped to overawe the guard by his sudden and mysterious appearance, and thus to effect his escape; but in this hope he was disappointed and found himself a captive in the hands of his enemies. This news was most welcome to Titus, and he dispatched immediate orders that the son of Gioras should be sent with his comrade to join him at Cæsarea, and assist to swell the honour of his triumph.
The domes and pinnacles of Diana's far-famed temple were glowing in the ruddy beams of the setting sun, when the white sails of a vessel were descried from the watch-towers of Ephesus, bearing swiftly and steadily towards the port. It was known by the signals hoisted from the masthead to be a merchant-ship returning from Syria, and numbers of the inhabitants of the city assembled on the quays and the banks of the river to witness the arrival of the goodly vessel, and hear from the passengers the latest intelligence of the war in Judea. Among those who waited most anxiously for the approach of the ship to the landing-place, were Amaziah and his wife, with their adopted daughter Claudia. They hoped to receive some communication from their beloved friends in Jerusalem, or at least a letter from Marcellus, telling of the state of the metropolis. Possibly some of their countrymen might have escaped from the beleaguered city, and from them they should hear of the welfare of those so deeply interesting to them all.
A favourable breeze filled the sails of the vessel, and it cut through the yielding waters with the grace and rapidity of a water-bird, and yet the motion seemed too slow for the anxious impatience of the Jewish exiles. They wandered to and fro along the margin of the river, to the point of land where the broad stream fell into the bosom of the ocean, and again returned to the landing-place. The daylight died away before the ship had entered the mouth of the river, and ere it reached the quay its tall mast and lofty prow could hardly be distinguished in the increasing darkness. But lights were hoisted from the rigging, and gleamed on the crowded deck, and the rush of the parting waters told that the noble bark was coming gallantly against the stream. Many torches were brought down to the shore, and their waving and flickering light fell on the anxious and strongly-marked Jewish features of Amaziah and Judith, and the fairer countenance of their young companion. The anchor was cast out, the ropes were thrown on shore, and the vessel lay steadily against the marble steps of the quay. What voice was that so wild and shrill that sounded from the shore above all the murmuring of the assembled crowd? That pale and delicate girl who stood by the side of Amaziah, and leant upon his arm, had cast her tearful eyes upon the deck of the vessel, and in the midst of the groups of passengers she had discerned a form that seemed the vision of one long dead and deeply mourned.
She clung to the arm of Amaziah, and pointed convulsively to the deck, while her large blue eyes were dilated with astonishment and fear, and her parted lips refused to utter the name so dear and so familiar to them. Judith and her husband looked in vain for the cause of Claudia's agitation. The form which had conjured up such wild emotions had disappeared among the crowd, and gradually she became convinced that it had been a creature of her imagination, and that the image for ever present to her heart had caused the startling fancy. Her extended hand fell down again, and with a deep drawn and shivering sigh she faintly whispered,—
"Oh, it was a blissful, but a cruel deception!"
"What was it, my child?" asked Judith. "Did you see any countenance that recalled the memory of the friends we left in Judea?"
"Yes, mother, yes; I thought I saw those features that haunt my sleeping hours, and seem to smile upon from the skies by day. They looked more like those of a living man than the angelic face that visits my dreams, and my foolish heart was startled. But ah! it is there again! Look, Judith, look at the side of the vessel;—and another form is there! O God of mercy, let not my bewildered brain thus mock me with such fancies! They come—they come on! They have stepped upon the quay! Oh, those are no forms of air. Take me, Amaziah, take me to meet them, and let me find it true, or die!"
Judith and Amaziah were hardly less agitated than their companion. They likewise saw the figures that passed from the deck to the shore, and they likewise knew not how to trust their eyes. But the breathless suspense soon terminated in a blissful reality, and they embraced the living forms of their lamented son and their beloved Naomi. It would be vain to attempt to paint the feelings of that group, whose hearts were filled to overflowing with so many and powerful emotions. It was not for some moments that the presence of Marcellus and his father was perceived, but then they were warmly and joyfully greeted; and then came the inquiries after Zadok and Salome, who were supposed to have sent away their daughter, and to have remained themselves to witness the fate of their country. Rufus quickly replied, and silenced all further questions; while the tears of Naomi plainly told that she had not abandoned her native land until she was a lonely orphan.
The house which Amaziah occupied was not far distant from the banks of the river; and when the party so unexpectedly united were assembled in the pillared verandah, many hours were passed in sweet discourse though deeply tinged with melancholy recollections, and recitals of sufferings and trials that never could be effaced from the heart. But hope, and faith, and resignation shed their happy influence over that family group, and deep gratitude was seated in every heart, for the mercies that were so bountifully mingled with their afflictions. Rufus was a heathen amid a family of Christians. Would he remain hardened in idolatry when he saw the blessed fruits of a purer religion so beautifully displayed around him?
Some weeks had elapsed since the arrival of the merchant-ship, and the bitterness of Naomi's feelings had begun in some measure to subside, when Rufus announced that he could no longer tarry at Ephesus, but must take advantage of a ship which he found was shortly to sail for Rome, and return to the capital to meet Titus, and share in the glories of his triumphant entry. Marcellus had obtained permission to absent himself, and he gladly relinquished his share in the honours of the magnificent but somewhat barbarous ceremony that was expected. He however urgently joined in the request of his father, that Naomi would consent to their marriage taking place before the departure of the latter, and that the union of Claudia and Theophilus might be celebrated at the same time. Naomi's heart was still too much oppressed with the remembrance of the sad scenes she had so recently witnessed, to enable her to feel that it was a time for the accomplishment of all her hopes of earthly happiness; but she yielded to the solicitations of all her friends, and an early day was fixed for the nuptials. The benediction was pronounced on the two young couples in the church consecrated to the service of Christ; and the hands of the venerable Christian bishop were laid on their heads as they knelt devoutly before the altar. Many of the Ephesian converts and exiled disciples from Judea were present at the sacred ceremony; and all were deeply interested in the two lovely maidens who after so much suffering and so many heavy trials, which they had borne with exemplary fortitude, at length were rewarded with as much of happiness as they could hope to possess on earth.
Rufus took leave of his children and departed for Rome, with a promise that he would return to visit them at Ephesus, when his presence was no longer required with the army. This promise he was unable to fulfil until the following spring, when once again he joined the happy family—and this time he did not come alone. He was accompanied by a man, who, though still young in years, bore the deep furrows of toil and suffering, and uncontrolled passions, on his pale cheek and lofty brow. That brow wore less of pride, and those dark eyes glanced less fiercely than they were wont to do, for captivity and disappointed hopes had humbled the heart that once burned with ambition, and beat with a thirst for vengeance. Tears of softened and natural feeling flowed down his cheeks as he clasped Naomi in his arms and extended his hand to her husband and to Theophilus. It was Javan. Rufus had found him in slavery at Rome, and with a generosity that was worthy of a Christian, he had forgotten all past injuries, and redeemed the proud young Pharisee from the servitude that galled his spirit. The chastisements of the Lord had not been altogether thrown away upon him. He never forgot his native land, or ceased to mourn her degradation; but it was not with the wrathful bitterness that once preyed on his heart; for he learned to regard her afflictions as the just retribution of her crimes, and to look for her restitution to glory when that Jesus whose name he had so often blasphemed, shall come in the clouds of heaven, with all his holy angels, to sit on the throne of David, and reign over his people for ever.
THE END.
BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO., PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS.