Chapter 6

CHAPTER XX.WITHOUT THE JAFFA GATE.The sunset hour was always a time of peace and peculiar joy in the house of John. The toils and dangers of the day being well over, the family were wont to gather upon the housetop, there to talk over what had happened during the hours that were passed. The golden glories of the dying day served to bring to their minds, each recurring evening, that place beyond the toils and sorrows of earth which their Lord had gone to prepare, and toward which each day's journey was swiftly hurrying them. Here the mother of Jesus sat enshrined in saintly peace; here also were John and Peter with the other apostles; Anna, the wife of Caiaphas, Stephen, and of late the black-eyed Egyptian maiden, together with many others who came to them for help, instruction, or healing. The number of such homes was daily increasing in Jerusalem; yet it was at this door, perhaps more often than at any other, that wretched humanity knocked for admittance, and admittance was always granted. For to these had been committed the ministry of the ascended Christ, with all that this signified of power and of blessing.To-night into their midst came Ben Hesed, to talk once more with the apostles concerning the Crucified One. He brought with him the scrolls of the Prophecies, for he was troubled about certain points therein."How is it," he said, "that it is written, 'Accursed be every one that hangeth upon the tree?' Surely God's Anointed could not be accursed.""Dost thou doubt concerning him already?" asked Peter sternly."Nay, I doubt not, man; my spirit witnesseth within me that the thing is true. But I would fain be able to speak convincingly to them which believe not, when I shall have returned into the wilderness. It is not granted to every one to behold the angel of deliverance.""Thou hast spoken wisely, who art wise," said John gently. "The young man Stephen doth without ceasing make study of that which hath been written aforetime concerning the Christ. Yea, the spirit also hath revealed to him many things which have been hid from the eyes of the wise; and this to our profit who are sorely beset with the duties of our ministry. Read, I beseech thee, my brother, from the scroll which thou hast prepared.""Concerning him which hath been hanged, it is written in the law thus," said Stephen, who a little apart from the others had been poring in silence over a number of parchments. "'If a man have committed a sin worthy of death, and he be put to death, and thou hang him upon a tree. His body shall not remain all night upon the tree, but thou shalt surely bury him that day; for he that is hanged is accursed of God. That thy land be not defiled which the Lord thy God giveth thee for an inheritance.'"But and if a sinless and holy man be put to death by false accusation, how is it that he is accursed? Herein is a great mystery, which as yet we see only in part, nor indeed can it be apprehended of mortals, that God gave his only begotten Son, not only that he should live amongst us a holy and sinless life, but that he should yield up that life in all meekness at the hands of his enemies. This also being the will of the Father concerning him; as he himself said, and as the voice of many prophets declare--who being dead yet speak to us in the words of the scripture. Are we not every one accursed, for we have sinned in the sight of God; and he, the sinless one, hath through the infinite compassion of the Father become accursed in our place. Even as it is written by the hand of the prophet Isaiah, 'He was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities, the chastisement of our peace was upon him and with his stripes we are healed.'"And behold these sayings--'I gave my back to the smiters, and my cheeks to them that plucked off the hair: I hid not my face from shame and from spitting'--'The assembly of the wicked have closed in upon me, they pierced my hands and my feet'--'They parted my garments among them, and cast lots upon my vesture'--'They gave me also gall for my meat, and in my thirst they gave me vinegar to drink'--'I became a reproach unto them, when they looked upon me they wagged their heads.' And this, 'his visage was so marred more than any man, and his form more than the sons of men'--'He was despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief; and we hid as it were our faces from him'--'He was taken from prison and from judgment and who shall declare his generation, for he was cut off out of the land of the living, for the transgression of my people was he stricken'--'And he made his grave with the wicked and with the rich in his death.'"All these sayings I found concerning him," continued the young man gravely, "written many generations before his birth; they might have been writ yesterday by one who witnessed his death. Also by the hand of the prophet Daniel is this: 'And after three score and two weeks shall Messiah be cut off, but not for himself, and the people of the prince that shall come shall destroy the city and the sanctuary; and the end thereof shall be as a flood, and unto the end of the war desolations are determined.'""The end is yet to come," said Ben Hesed, involuntarily clenching his strong hands and looking toward the walls of the mighty temple, which shone white and mystical in the soft light of the rising moon."He himself foretold all that hath happened," said John sorrowfully, "and what is yet to come; how that he should be delivered up to the Romans, and should be mocked and spitefully entreated, spitted upon, scourged and crucified. It lay heavily upon him so that even he, who walked ever in the light of God, was exceeding sorrowful; and when he looked to us for sympathy that last awful night, we--slept. God forgive us!""He hath forgiven us all things," said Peter. "He bore our sins in his own body on the tree. For the love of him, shall we not gladly suffer what shall yet befall us? for he told us plainly that the world would hate us, even as it hated him; that we also should be persecuted, scourged, and put to death. Yet how soon will all be past, and then we shall go to him."In the silence which followed these words a loud knocking was heard at the outer gate of the courtyard. Stephen arose quietly from his place and descended the stair. When he had opened the door, he saw standing in the street a man. He was meanly clad, as Stephen could see by the dim light; therefore his voice was more gentle than usual as he said:--"What wilt thou, friend?""Is there here a young man called Stephen?""I am he; wilt thou enter?"The man shuffled uneasily on his feet, then looked furtively up and down the street. "There be a sick man who hath need of thee for healing and strong words of thy faith," he said at length, fixing his eyes upon Stephen."Wouldst thou not rather inquire for one of the twelve?""Nay, it was for one Stephen, a Greek, I was bidden to ask. The man I have spoken of is also a Greek, and would not ask for healing at the hands of a Jew.""The healing cometh from God," said Stephen gravely. "I will come though. Where is the sick man?""I will show thee where he lieth," said the man eagerly; "and I pray thee to make haste, for his case is desperate.""Let me first speak to them that are within, I will join thee immediately," said Stephen, stepping back into the courtyard and leaving the door partly open.The man listened to the sound of his retreating steps as he ascended the stair. "They be all above," he muttered, stepping softly within. "Now if by any chance--Ha! what is this? A capital warm cloak, 'twill serve to shelter me these chill nights. Body of Jove! but I am always in luck of late!"When Stephen returned, the man was waiting humbly without as he had left him. The two immediately set forth, the man going before; they walked swiftly through the dark narrow streets, the stranger glancing frequently over his shoulder to make sure that Stephen was following. After a time he paused, "'Tis without the walls," he muttered hoarsely. "We must pass through the Jaffa Gate.""There is moonlight," said Stephen rather absently, raising his eyes to the heavens, where in truth his thoughts had been as he followed his strange guide."There is moonlight," repeated the man with a hoarse chuckle. "So much the better."Stephen looked at the speaker more attentively than he had done at first; the white light which poured down from above revealing clearly every feature of the brutal face before him. He started visibly. "I have somewhere seen thee before!" he exclaimed. "Nay I know now, thou art of them who formerly----"The man laughed aloud. "I am Gestas; second in authority to Dumachus, who was chief of our band--and your father. Since the Romans put an end to him, along with Titus and the Nazarene, I have been chief.""And is it one of your followers who is in need of healing?" asked Stephen, shrinking back a little with something of his old-time dread."It is. Art thou afraid?""No," returned Stephen quietly, "I am not afraid; surely of all men ye are most in need of the mighty help of the risen Lord; 'twere most fitting if so be that I may bring it into your midst."Gestas looked at him with an indescribable mixture of contempt and pity. "Thou art a pretty enough fellow," he said, running his eyes over the slender but well-knit figure. "A thought too pretty indeed. Why art thou contented to pass thy days in the company of a band of crazy fools, who will end as their Master did--though he merited it not--on the cross. Why take the devil's wages without the devil's pleasures first? If now, I die on the cross, it will be for reasons better than preaching, praying, and the healing of dirty beggar folk.""Afterward is the judgment," said Stephen."A fig for the afterwards!" cried Gestas. "Who knows anything about that? But, come," he added with a sudden change in his tones, "it lacks but an hour of midnight; thou must be gone before that time.""I am not in haste to be gone," said Stephen gently. "I will remain until morning, if I can do anything to help.""There is naught that thou canst do--after midnight," said Gestas gruffly. "If there is an afterwards," he muttered, "it will make no difference to him."The two walked silently for a time, pausing at length at the edge of a low-growing coppice, through the interlacing branches of which could be seen the fitful flash of a dying fire. Making their way through the thicket by a winding path evidently well known to Gestas, the twain presently found themselves in the centre of the encampment."Where is the dying man?" said Stephen, eager to begin his ministry of love.For answer, Gestas seized him by the arm and hurried him forward into the midst of a dark group of figures which seemed to be awaiting their approach. "Thou art the dying man!" he whispered hoarsely. "Prepare for thy afterwards swiftly."Half involuntarily, Stephen made a mighty unavailing effort to free himself from the grasp of the ruffian who held him; life on a sudden looked very sweet to him. It could not be that God had appointed such an end as this for one who would serve him long and faithfully. Surely he was too young to die. Yet not younger than Titus, who had gone by the horrible way of the cross to be with him in Paradise. At the thought a great peace possessed his soul. "Not my will but thine be done," he murmured aloud, raising his eyes to the stars which glittered keenly through the interlacing branches overhead."So this is the man!" cried a rough voice, as a dozen hands bound him to the trunk of a tree. "It may be that if he hath the power to heal, as they say, he will be master also of other magic arts, which he will use to our undoing. Best make way with him quickly."Stephen looked about on the crowd of evil faces which surrounded him, and a great wave of pity for his tormentors swept over him. So far were they from God, so deep in unfathomable depths of misery. For himself he felt no fear; from earth to heaven was but a single step."Men and brethren," he cried, and his voice rang out clear and sweet upon the startled air. "Let me live for yet a little space, till I shall declare unto you the words of life. For such as you, Jesus died upon the cross; he will save you from out the misery of this present life, and afterward give you the life that endeth not. Only believe on him and forsake your evil ways.""Prate not to us of thy Jewish Messiah," cried one. "He is not for us, even if what thou sayest be true. We must die as we have lived. We be uncircumcised Greeks that care not for an everlasting abode with them that spit upon us in this life.""Nay, but he died for the sins of the world, and he is risen from death to abide forever with the Father which made the Greek as well as the Jew, and loveth both alike.""Give to us a sign!" cried another. "If what thou hast said be true, let the man Jesus come down out of the heavens and deliver thee, then will we believe on him; nay, more, thou shalt be our leader in place of Gestas here--who is too stupid to be chief."At this Gestas swore a great oath of rage. "Stand back, all of you," he cried. "I will smite him; and there is none that shall deliver him out of my hand, either on earth or in heaven."Then he raised his arm; Stephen caught the keen glitter of the steel. He closed his eyes. His lips moved in prayer. Something smote him on the breast, but it was not the soul-delivering blade, as he dimly realized ere his senses left him. Gestas, stricken full in the heart by an arrow sped from the bow of an unseen archer, had leapt straight into the air without a cry, then falling limply, his head striking against the prisoner, he lay, a grim unsightly heap, at Stephen's feet.The others stood for an instant aghast, then with wild cries of fear they fled away into the thicket."I fear the knaves have done for him, whoever he be," cried a voice, as the figure of a young man bounded out of the bushes."Nay, my son," said Ben Hesed, who had followed more deliberately, "the miscreant had but raised his blade when my arrow smote him; let us loose the man here and get away from this place with all speed, for they will return and fall upon us, if they find that we be few.""I must fetch the white dromedary," said the voice of Seth, at his elbow. "It is in yonder glade.""Be quick, then; there is no time to lose!"The moon had looked down for a full hour longer upon the dark motionless something, which lay just where it had fallen on the soft grass, when the thicket again opened and a man peered out. He looked about him cautiously, then turned and spoke reassuringly to some one behind him."There is no one here, Joca; come on!""It was a bolt from heaven assuredly which smote him; for there is naught missing save the man," said the other, looking keenly about in his turn at the familiar scene; "Let us get away from this place; I am sick of it.""Ay! we will return to Greece where the old gods yet rule; I like not the ways of the god of this land; but first--" And the speaker cautiously approached the body of Gestas. "He hath something about him, which we shall have more need of than he. Ah! here it is, ten good pieces--if he have not already spent some of them.""But there were to have been thirty pieces more.""Ay! and more's the pity that they be lost to us.""Why need they be lost to us, man?""What meanest thou?"Joca whispered something in his companion's ear, whereat the other chuckled hoarsely."Why not?" he cried, "thou art a son of Minerva to have thought it."The servant of Annas had waited outside the Jaffa gate for nearly two hours; he was growing impatient at last."I will not stay longer," he muttered, "something hath miscarried in the matter; it will be to-morrow--if the knave hath not failed me altogether."But even as he spoke he saw a man approaching him. He at once stood forth in the full moonlight, bidding his companions remain within the shadow of the wall.The man came up to him swiftly. "Art thou he who hath thirty pieces of gold to give in exchange for a strange commodity?""I am he. Hast thou the commodity?""Ay! it is here; wilt thou see it?"The Jew shuddered at sight of the bag which the other tendered him. "No!" he said shortly. "Take the money and be gone." Then he turned to one of the slaves who waited his orders. "Take this," he commanded, "and fetch it to the palace."CHAPTER XXI.NOT A SPARROW FALLETH.Something more than two years after the events narrated in the preceding chapter, a little group of men might have been seen standing in the portico of a building known as the Synagogue of the Nazarenes. They were conversing in low tones, but their excited gestures and gloomy faces betrayed the fact that the topic which they were discussing was not a pleasant one."There is unquestioned and open partiality on the part of the apostles toward them that be of Hebrew birth and descent," said one bitterly. "Though we be circumcised and walk after the law in all diligence, the fact that we are Greeks can be neither overlooked nor forgiven.""I mind not what they think;" cried another sturdily, "a Greek is as good as a Jew any day, and we be all servants of one Master, even Christ; but it is not just that our widows and fatherless be neglected in the daily distributions, for we have all given freely of our substance into the common fund.""I like not to boast, my Andronicus," said the third man almost in a whisper, "but I cannot forbear the thought that had I retained in mine own power what I aforetime laid down at the apostles' feet--freely and in all humility of mind, these tales of neglect would not now be coming to our ears."None of the three had observed that a fourth man had joined himself to the group, till the newcomer spoke. "The neglect of which thou dost complain, my brothers," he said in a deep musical voice, "is not a neglect born of contempt for us because we are Greeks. I know these men through and through; they rest not day nor night, but labor incessantly, and in all unselfishness and love for the church, yet is the burden too heavy for them. Christ healed many that were sick and fed many that were hungry. Yet there remain multitudes of them that are blind, of them that are lepers, of them that hunger, who were also blind, leprous, and hungry, when our Master walked the earth. They came not unto him, and how could he succor them, being burdened with this humanity which doth irk us all?""What thou hast said, my Stephen, is true," admitted Andronicus. "But it is also true that among the Jewish widows there is no lack, while Priscilla and her little ones remained two days without food. Had she refrained from joining herself to us, she would have continued to receive aid from the Temple treasury; the woman herself declared it, and I could not gainsay her had I wished it. If there be not neglect born of contempt, there is assuredly a lack of wisdom.""What hath been done for Priscilla?""My wife ministered to her necessities, as well as to those of Julia and Eunice.""Hast thou spoken of this to Peter?" asked Stephen, looking troubled and turning to one of the others."Nay, I have not spoken of it; there should be no need to speak, say I.""Forget not the word of the Master, 'Judge not that ye be not judged,' said Stephen, gravely. "We must look carefully within before we lightly censure any man--least of all the chosen and anointed ones of our Lord." Then after a thoughtful pause he added, "I will myself speak with John concerning these things."The man who had first spoken, and who was called Apelles, looked after him as he walked away. "From him I can suffer reproof as from no other;" he said, "he hath within him the very spirit of the ascended One.""Like the ascended One, he hath also enemies in high places;" said Andronicus, significantly, "the continued attempts made upon his life bear witness to the fact.""What dost thou mean? He was threatened, it is true, by certain of the Sadducees because of his boldness in declaring the resurrection in their very midst, but no man laid hands on him.""The Herodians, and especially the Pharisee from Tarsus, are bitter against him for some reason, which perhaps we understand not wholly. Hast thou forgotten his rescue by Ben Hesed more than two years ago; and also what happened thrice since--when by the barest chance he escaped with his life?""True, he has been mercifully preserved amidst great dangers; but each time there was a simple enough cause for the peril without attributing it to an enemy," said Apelles, thoughtfully. "Once it was from robbers, who would have slain him from the mere lust of murder, as is their wont. Again, a heavy stone fell from the wall above as he spake to the people, barely missing his head in its descent.""Yes; I know all that thou wouldst say;" broke in the other, "but listen! Yesterday a basket of fruit was sent him, bearing a scroll inscribed thus: 'This fruit is for the saintly Stephen, from one who believes that the apples of Paradise are none too fair for such as he.'""A pretty conceit assuredly!""A most lovely conceit! Had he eaten, as the sender supposed that he would do, even now would the apples of Paradise be within his grasp.""What meanest thou?""'I will not eat of this fair fruit,' said Stephen, 'instead I will bear it to the aged Clement, who hath only of late joined himself to us,' but while he waited for a convenient season for taking the gift, the fruit stood without on the ledge of the window, and the birds came and pecked it. Before they could fly away after their stolen meal the little creatures dropped dead.""Horror! the fruit was poisoned then?""Assuredly. Now thou seest that he hath an enemy.""But who?""I have my suspicions, and have warned him. His answer was this, 'He is with me alway even unto the end; until my appointed time there is nothing that shall be able to hurt me; neither shall I fear what man can do to me.'""Wonderful! I have confessed that Jesus is the Christ, but I fear me my faith in him is but a poor thing compared with that of Stephen; had the like happened to me I should have fled the city.""'Twas what I urged upon him. Go away from Jerusalem, I said. There be Jews in every city of Greece who would gladly hear thee of the Christ; in the land of thy fathers shalt thou dwell in safety. But he shook his head. 'The day is not far distant,' he made answer, 'when not alone to the Jews shall this salvation be preached, but unto every people and kindred and tongue beneath the heavens; for Christ came to save the world, and therefore shall the world be saved; but it is not I who am called to this work; my place is here.'"While the two Greeks thus spoke one to another of Stephen, the young man himself was passing rapidly through the streets towards his home, his thoughts busied chiefly with what Andronicus had told him concerning the daily ministrations. "The matter must be looked to," he said to himself. "The twelve are not sufficient for the work, God be praised. So mightily hath the spirit worked with and for us, that the day is not far distant when the cross shall cease to be a symbol of shame and hissing among men and shall everywhere be hailed the sacred token of deliverance."Communing thus within himself he lifted up his eyes and beheld the square which lay before the palace of Pilate. "It was here," he murmured, "that they brought him on the day of his death. It was here that the people cried out 'Crucify him--Crucify him!' Ah, that awful day--nay rather that day of days, decreed from the foundations of the world!" Then he passed on into the square, being minded to look for a moment on the very place where he knew the Man of Sorrows had stood so patiently on that last day of his earthly life. As he approached the mosaic of many-colored marbles which marked the place of the judgment seat, a Roman chariot containing two men and drawn by a pair of powerful black horses dashed into the square."Dost see that fellow yonder, Herod?" exclaimed the man who stood behind the driver. "I mean the one with the white robe. 'Tis that beggarly Greek, Stephen, who hath been setting the city on an uproar of late with his driveling cant. I hate the whole blasphemous brood, but he is most contemptible of all.""I will engage to run him down, if thou sayest it," said the man who held the reins, and across whose white tunic streamed a scarf of the imperial purple."Be it so!" answered his companion with a malignant scowl. "'Twill be a happy accident that rids the world of such an one.""An accident of course," said the other with a brutal laugh. "Who would dare question it?" And he brought the long lash with a whistling curl about the glossy flanks of the horses; they leapt forward as one. Something else also leapt forward. There was a cry, and the sound of the iron hoofs was horribly dulled for an instant, then the chariot thundered on, and swept into the avenue beyond the palace."By the gods, Alexander!" cried Herod. "Didst see the man who leapt forward from behind? He dragged the beggar forth just in time; another instant and he would have been crushed beneath our wheels.""I saw, yes," answered the other, grinding his teeth. "The wretch bears a charmed life.""We will drive back to inquire of the accident," pursued Herod with a sneering laugh. "Pollux there struck something softer than the pavement. Hey! Pollux, my beauty? If it chanced to be the man's head he will prate no more of dead malefactors--nor yet of live ones. How now, fellow!" he shouted, reining in his struggling horses as they approached the borders of the crowd which had instantly gathered at the scene of the accident. "Was the man hurt seriously?""Not seriously, they say, your Highness," replied the man to whom he had spoken, bowing low at sight of his royal questioner; "but the stranger who rescued him hath beyond doubt suffered a mortal wound.""The more fool he!" cried Herod contemptuously. As the horses again sprang forward in obedience to the lash, he turned to his companion with a wicked laugh. "'Twere a pretty pastime for our leisure to root out these pestiferous fellows from the Holy City, and 'twould doubtless cover a multitude of sins.""May we count on thine assistance, my prince?" said Alexander eagerly. "We who are against the Nazarenes grow fewer each day; already the greater number of Pharisees either believe or regard them with tolerance. These all declare openly that the dead carpenter of Galilee is alive and is like to return any day to rule over Israel."Herod's face darkened. "Let him return and attempt it!" he cried angrily. "Behind me--is Rome."CHAPTER XXII.BY THE THORNY WAYS OF HIS SIN.Upon a couch in the house of John lay the stranger who had rescued Stephen from death. About him were gathered those of the household who chanced to be at home when the sad little procession had arrived."He gave his life for mine," said Stephen, solemnly, looking down at the quiet face across which the shadow of approaching death had already fallen. "And God hath accepted the sacrifice; it is not his will that he be restored. Would that I knew to whom I owe this debt of gratitude before he goes hence.""He will recover consciousness, I think, shortly," said Mary, laying her cool white fingers on the brow of the sufferer. "He is assuredly not a Jew," she added, gazing intently at the dark face upon the pillows. "Fetch me a basin and sponge, my daughter; it may be that the cool water will revive him."The girl to whom she had spoken hastened to obey. As she stooped to pour water from a jar which stood without in the courtyard, a young man hurriedly entered the enclosure."Where is Stephen?" he cried, as his eye fell upon the maiden. "I heard but just now that Herod had crushed him beneath his chariot wheels. A brutal deed. He that told me was an eye-witness.""By the mercy of God," answered the girl with a half sob, "he hath escaped with a bruise; another was smitten in his place, and he is dying. I must hasten with the water!" and she sprang up and hurried away.The young man followed, and approaching the group that surrounded the couch, he looked over the shoulder of the young girl as she held the basin ready for the hand of Mary. He started as his eye fell upon the wounded man."He is an Egyptian!" he exclaimed.Even as he spoke, the man opened his eyes. "Water!" he gasped faintly. Stephen raised the languid head while the skilful hand of Mary held the cup."Lay him down again, gently--so," she said in a low voice.Then Stephen bent over the pillow. "Canst thou tell us who thou art, and why it was that thou didst choose the life of another rather than thine own?"The dull eyes brightened a little, "Did I save him? Ah, yes--thanks be to the gods! thou art alive. Did any hurt befall thee?""Nay--but I live, alas, because thou art to die.""It is well, not only that thou wilt live, but that I shall die, if the God whom thou dost proclaim will but count my worthless life a sacrifice for my many sins.""Nay, my brother," said Stephen, "if thou dost but believe on Jesus the Christ, there is no sacrifice needed for sin; he gave himself a sacrifice for our transgressions because of the love which he bare us.""It cannot be that he loves me," said the sick man. "Listen till I shall tell thee all. I am an Egyptian, my name is Amu----"The maiden who still stood at his bedside grew very white at the sound of that name, and the newcomer, who was watching from behind, reached quietly out and took the basin from her nerveless fingers. "Anat," he whispered, "'tis a common enough name.""It is he," she returned, "I know the voice--but listen!""Early in life," continued the Egyptian, his voice gathering strength, "I was even as others, neither better, nor worse,--'tis not of those days I would speak, but of the days when I was a man grown--then it chanced that there came a certain stranger out of the wilderness with his wife and child, and sojourned in Egypt. He possessed gold and bought for himself a plot of land not far from the river. This he tilled with industry, so that after a time he gained more gold and bought still another bit of tillage. Not much, for land was costly in the neighborhood of the river. I was his neighbor and I was not unfriendly to him, for he was a stranger and knew not the ways of the people, nor at the first the proper grains to cast into the earth. And because I helped him in such small matters he loved me and clave to me, as also his wife; and I was ever an honored guest in their house. After a time, there came a great sickness over all the region about the upper Nile, because the river failed to overflow his banks at the proper season. The people were wasted by it, and they died by hundreds and by thousands. My father and my brothers died; and the plot of land which had been theirs came to me."After a time the man who had come out of the wilderness was likewise stricken, and his wife; and when it presently appeared that they both must die, he sent for me and spake to me after this manner, 'My friend, who hath been to me even as a brother in this land of strangers wherein we have sojourned, I am sorely stricken, both I and the mother of the children, and it must presently come to pass that we be gathered to our fathers; but before my soul passes I would fain speak to thee of my little ones who will be left desolate, if so be that the plague spares them.' 'Speak,' I made answer, 'I will do with them as thou dost command.' Then he told me how that he was a Greek born in Antioch, and the son of a rich man. After his father died a fierce quarrel arose betwixt the two brothers over the division of the inheritance; and when after many days the bitterness still continued, it came to pass that he smote his brother and wounded him sore; then taking what he would he fled away into the wilderness. There he took to himself a wife from the tribes that wandered in the desert and afterward came to dwell in Egypt."'Now I pray and beseech thee,' he said to me, 'by all that thou boldest sacred, that thou wilt take my two children and the price of the land--when thou shalt have sold it--and fetch them to my brother, for I have heard that he yet liveth, and say to him this: Thy brother is dead. He sendeth thee the money that he took away--and more; and here are also his two children. Let them find favor in thy sight, I pray thee, for they are desolate.'"I promised my neighbor that I would do what he desired of me; and I sware it by the temple of Ptah Hotep, and by the sacred Nile, and by the soul of my father. And when he had told me his brother's name and how to find him, he turned himself about on his bed and spoke no more. In that same day both he and his wife perished. Of the two children one was likewise stricken, and I watched her many days till she recovered. Afterward I perceived that she had become blind by reason of the plague."That season I could not sell the land, for there were none to buy; so I planted the crops and reaped them, and the children ate and were satisfied; but the money I received for the grain I kept, for I said the laborer is worthy of his wages. The next season I also planted and reaped, and the next; and at the time of the third harvest a man came to me and said, 'Wilt thou sell this land for thy neighbor's children?' and I answered him 'Nay, I will not sell. My neighbor owed me money and he died without repaying me, therefore is the land mine!' And after a time I came almost to believe what I had said. But I waxed exceeding bitter against the two children, who were as yet only babes; so I sent them away to a woman who dwelt in the tombs above the river; and I paid her to keep them. Afterward she died, and the two continued to dwell alone in the tombs. They grew and waxed strong--though no one cared for them, for the boy was lusty and brave; he had become a water-carrier. Still I kept a watch upon them, for I feared lest they should in some way find out what I had done; though I confessed it to no one, not even my wife. After a time the fear grew upon me so that I could neither eat nor sleep, and I resolved to rid myself of the two. I had not yet grown evil enough to wish to slay them, so I turned the thing over in my mind for many days; at the last I was resolved what to do. I would sell them for slaves, then would they be taken away and I should be free from my fears; not only so, but I should receive gold, with which to buy more land. But when I would have accomplished my desires upon them, they fled away into the desert, and assuredly perished; for though I searched for them long, I could never find what had become of them.""Why didst thou search for them," said Seth suddenly, as the man paused to drink from the cup which Mary again held to his parched lips."I searched for them," replied the man, his eyes resting upon his questioner's face with a startled expression, "because--Nay, I hardly know why. I had repented me of my desire to make slaves of them, but I was not ready to give up the land.""What became of Besa?""I found him dead in the tomb where he thought the twain were hidden," answered the Egyptian as if in a dream. "But who art thou that dost question me?" and he half raised himself in the bed, his livid face growing yet more ghastly with the painful effort."We are the children of the man thou didst wrong," said Seth fiercely. "Tell me, what was the name of our kinsman, that we may yet seek him as our father willed?""His name was Erastus; but, alas, he is dead now these many years. I sought him that I might render an account of what I had done, for I feared death on account of my sin. Neither dared I pray any more to the avenging gods; for had I not foresworn myself in their names? So, because there was no longer any comfort for me in the lands which I possessed, nor in my children, nor in anything in the whole land of Egypt, I became a wanderer in far countries. Here in Jerusalem not many days since, I chanced to hear a wondrous thing, 'that they which had sinned might find peace and forgiveness in one Jesus of Nazareth, who had lived upon earth that he might save them which were lost.' That same day I beheld him that had spoken these words; and I drew near, desiring to ask him still further of the matter, when on a sudden I saw that he was in mortal peril. I scarce know what followed; but I longed to save him, if only that I might hear once more the strange story of the man Jesus. Tell me"--and the man's glazing eyes sought Stephen--"thou hast heard all--is there forgiveness for such as I?""There is forgiveness for every one that doth repent and believe in the Lord Jesus," said Stephen softly. "Surely thou mayest pass in peace, my brother; for God hath led thee even by the thorny ways of thy sin unto himself."The dying man's eyes again brightened, his lips moved; then he stretched out his hand toward the youth and the maiden, who had sunken to their knees by his bedside. "Wilt thou also forgive?" he murmured."Yes--yes. We forgive thee fully, as also we hope to be forgiven," cried Seth, pressing his lips to the cold hand which had so cruelly wronged him."Thy mother--her name was Zarah," faltered the Egyptian--"she was the daughter--of--" his voice failed him; thrice he made an unavailing effort to speak, then the eternal silence fell softly upon him."He hath passed into the presence of the Love that hath led him through all the weary way of his life," said Mary solemnly. "There will he find peace."CHAPTER XXIII.IN THE SYNAGOGUE OF THE NAZARENES."For what have we been called together at this time, knowest thou?" asked a man of his neighbor in the crowd assembled before the synagogue of the Nazarenes. "Seeing that this is not the prescribed day for worship.""'Tis that we may consider the matter of which the Grecians have been murmuring of late," replied the other. "Their widows, say they, are neglected in the daily ministrations.""Not more than the widows of our own blood; the fault lieth with the young men to whom of late the apostles have been forced to give a part of the work. But see, the doors are opened."The twain, together with the rest of the quiet and orderly multitude, passed into the porch, where each person paused for an instant to dip his hands into the brazen urn of water which stood without the door; this constituting the ceremonial washing of hands required before entering into the sacred enclosure.The scene within did not differ materially from that which might have been seen in any other of the four hundred and eighty synagogues of Jerusalem. Against the wall opposite the entrance, beneath a canopy of purple cloth, stood the wooden chest or ark, containing the scrolls of the law. Above this ark burned the perpetual light, token of the visible glory of the Lord as it was revealed in that first temple which their forefathers had reared in the wilderness. This sacred light was a three-fold symbol, for it also served to remind the worshipper of the human soul, which is the breath of God; as it is written, "The spirit of man is the candle of the Lord." And of the divine law--"For thy commandment is a lamp; and thy law is light."Here also facing the congregation was the desk from which the ruler of the synagogue was wont to preside over the worship; and at one side, elevated upon a raised platform, twelve wooden seats were provided for the twelve apostles--the visible heads of the Church; it being the custom in all synagogues to thus elevate above the common rank those who were considered the most enlightened. In these, as in all other respects, did the disciples walk orderly as after the law; being yet minded, despite the warning of the Master, to put the strong new wine of the Kingdom into the ancient bottles of Judaism.On this day, after that the congregation had seated themselves in due order--the men upon one side of the room, the women and children upon the other, separated by a low wooden partition--the service was begun by the chanting of the sacrificial psalms; after which the whole congregation arose and repeated as with one voice the benediction called "The Creator of Light.""Blessed art thou, O Lord our God, King of the universe, who createst light and formest darkness; who makest peace and createst all things. He in mercy causes the light to shine upon the earth and the inhabitants thereof, and in goodness renews every day the work of creation. Blessed art thou, the Creator of Light."And also this--"the Great Love.""With great love hast thou loved us, O Lord our God; thou hast shown us great and abundant mercy, O our Father and King, for the sake of our forefathers who trusted in thee! Thou who didst teach them the love of life; have mercy upon us and teach us also to praise thee, O Lord, who in love hast chosen thy people!"Then did Matthias--who on this day had been chosen to lead the worship, and who like the rest of the congregation wore the fringed garment prescribed by law and the phylacteries upon his head and upon his left arm--arise, and cry aloud in the words of the ancient prayer which was called the Kadish; all the people joining heartily in the Amens."Exalted and hallowed be his great name in the world which he created according to his will; let his kingdom come in your lifetime, and in the lifetime of the whole house of Israel very speedily!""Amen!""Blessed be his great name, world without end.""Amen!""Blessed and praised, celebrated and exalted, extolled and adorned, magnified and worshipped, be thy holy name; blessed be he far above all benedictions, hymns, thanks, praises, and consolations which have been uttered in this world.""Amen!""May the prayers and supplications of all Israel be graciously received before their Father in heaven.""Amen.""May perfect peace descend from heaven, and life, upon us and all Israel.""Amen!""May he who makes peace in his heaven confer peace upon us and all Israel.""Amen!"Then followed the eighteen benedictions, of which the first sentence only was repeated in a loud voice by the leader, the rest being recited by the congregation in unison. Save this prayer, which all repeated aloud and with a joyous tone of full expectation; for they knew him to whom they prayed. "To Jerusalem thy city in mercy return, and dwell in it according to thy promise; make it speedily in our day an everlasting building, and soon establish therein the throne of David. Blessed art thou, O Lord, who buildest Jerusalem." And so to the end, closing with the words, "Our Father, bless us all unitedly with the light of thy countenance; for in the light of thy countenance didst thou give to us, O Lord our God, the law of life, loving kindness, justice, blessing, compassion, life, and peace. May it please thee to bless thy people Israel at all times, and in every moment with peace. Blessed art thou, O Lord, who blessest thy people Israel with peace!"Then followed the reading from the scriptures. Afterward Peter arose in his place and spoke to the people; he brought again to their remembrance the words of their risen Lord, 'how that they should continue to dwell together in all peace and love, forbearing one another and loving one another in expectation of that great day, perhaps nigh at hand, when he should return bringing his reward with him for them that had been faithful in all things.' He spoke also of the matter which had been troubling the minds of many during the days that were past."God knoweth, brethren," he said, "that we would not willingly neglect any, who by the grace of our Lord have joined themselves with us; least of all them who by reason of their affliction are dependent upon our bounty. If any have been neglected it is because of the weakness of the flesh. The work hath waxed too great for us; for besides this duty of the daily distribution of bodily food to them that lack, there remaineth also the duty whereunto we were set apart by the Master himself--of preaching the good tidings of salvation from sin and from death unto all men. 'It is not reason that we should set aside the work of God to serve tables'--and it is manifest that we cannot longer do both--'wherefore, brethren, look ye out among you seven men of honest report, full of the Holy Ghost and wisdom, whom we may appoint over this business. But we will give ourselves continually to prayer and to the ministry of the word.'"And when he had finished speaking, Philip arose in his place."If I read aright your faces, my brothers," he said, looking around about upon the multitude, "this good saying hath pleased you all. Let us therefore choose, and that there may no longer be any thought of jealousy betwixt Jew and Greek--which thing also must be displeasing unto him, who according to his word, is at this time in our midst--let it come to pass that of the seven which we shall choose, three shall be Hebrews, three Greeks and one a proselyte. Then shall there be no longer need nor excuse that any should murmur concerning this matter of the dispensations."And these sayings being approved of them which were assembled, one Aristarchus arose and presented the name of Stephen for the honorable office of deacon. "For he is," declared the speaker, "as is known unto you all, a man full of faith and of the Spirit."And all the people cried with one voice: "Worthy! He is worthy!"Then did they in the same manner choose also Philip and Prochorus, Nicanor, Timon, and Parmenas; and also, according to the word of Philip, Nicolas of Antioch, who was a convert to the Jewish faith. And these seven stood up before the apostles and before all the congregation of the people; and when the apostles had prayed they laid their hands upon them, in token that thus were they set apart unto the sacred duties of their calling.

CHAPTER XX.

WITHOUT THE JAFFA GATE.

The sunset hour was always a time of peace and peculiar joy in the house of John. The toils and dangers of the day being well over, the family were wont to gather upon the housetop, there to talk over what had happened during the hours that were passed. The golden glories of the dying day served to bring to their minds, each recurring evening, that place beyond the toils and sorrows of earth which their Lord had gone to prepare, and toward which each day's journey was swiftly hurrying them. Here the mother of Jesus sat enshrined in saintly peace; here also were John and Peter with the other apostles; Anna, the wife of Caiaphas, Stephen, and of late the black-eyed Egyptian maiden, together with many others who came to them for help, instruction, or healing. The number of such homes was daily increasing in Jerusalem; yet it was at this door, perhaps more often than at any other, that wretched humanity knocked for admittance, and admittance was always granted. For to these had been committed the ministry of the ascended Christ, with all that this signified of power and of blessing.

To-night into their midst came Ben Hesed, to talk once more with the apostles concerning the Crucified One. He brought with him the scrolls of the Prophecies, for he was troubled about certain points therein.

"How is it," he said, "that it is written, 'Accursed be every one that hangeth upon the tree?' Surely God's Anointed could not be accursed."

"Dost thou doubt concerning him already?" asked Peter sternly.

"Nay, I doubt not, man; my spirit witnesseth within me that the thing is true. But I would fain be able to speak convincingly to them which believe not, when I shall have returned into the wilderness. It is not granted to every one to behold the angel of deliverance."

"Thou hast spoken wisely, who art wise," said John gently. "The young man Stephen doth without ceasing make study of that which hath been written aforetime concerning the Christ. Yea, the spirit also hath revealed to him many things which have been hid from the eyes of the wise; and this to our profit who are sorely beset with the duties of our ministry. Read, I beseech thee, my brother, from the scroll which thou hast prepared."

"Concerning him which hath been hanged, it is written in the law thus," said Stephen, who a little apart from the others had been poring in silence over a number of parchments. "'If a man have committed a sin worthy of death, and he be put to death, and thou hang him upon a tree. His body shall not remain all night upon the tree, but thou shalt surely bury him that day; for he that is hanged is accursed of God. That thy land be not defiled which the Lord thy God giveth thee for an inheritance.'

"But and if a sinless and holy man be put to death by false accusation, how is it that he is accursed? Herein is a great mystery, which as yet we see only in part, nor indeed can it be apprehended of mortals, that God gave his only begotten Son, not only that he should live amongst us a holy and sinless life, but that he should yield up that life in all meekness at the hands of his enemies. This also being the will of the Father concerning him; as he himself said, and as the voice of many prophets declare--who being dead yet speak to us in the words of the scripture. Are we not every one accursed, for we have sinned in the sight of God; and he, the sinless one, hath through the infinite compassion of the Father become accursed in our place. Even as it is written by the hand of the prophet Isaiah, 'He was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities, the chastisement of our peace was upon him and with his stripes we are healed.'

"And behold these sayings--'I gave my back to the smiters, and my cheeks to them that plucked off the hair: I hid not my face from shame and from spitting'--'The assembly of the wicked have closed in upon me, they pierced my hands and my feet'--'They parted my garments among them, and cast lots upon my vesture'--'They gave me also gall for my meat, and in my thirst they gave me vinegar to drink'--'I became a reproach unto them, when they looked upon me they wagged their heads.' And this, 'his visage was so marred more than any man, and his form more than the sons of men'--'He was despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief; and we hid as it were our faces from him'--'He was taken from prison and from judgment and who shall declare his generation, for he was cut off out of the land of the living, for the transgression of my people was he stricken'--'And he made his grave with the wicked and with the rich in his death.'

"All these sayings I found concerning him," continued the young man gravely, "written many generations before his birth; they might have been writ yesterday by one who witnessed his death. Also by the hand of the prophet Daniel is this: 'And after three score and two weeks shall Messiah be cut off, but not for himself, and the people of the prince that shall come shall destroy the city and the sanctuary; and the end thereof shall be as a flood, and unto the end of the war desolations are determined.'"

"The end is yet to come," said Ben Hesed, involuntarily clenching his strong hands and looking toward the walls of the mighty temple, which shone white and mystical in the soft light of the rising moon.

"He himself foretold all that hath happened," said John sorrowfully, "and what is yet to come; how that he should be delivered up to the Romans, and should be mocked and spitefully entreated, spitted upon, scourged and crucified. It lay heavily upon him so that even he, who walked ever in the light of God, was exceeding sorrowful; and when he looked to us for sympathy that last awful night, we--slept. God forgive us!"

"He hath forgiven us all things," said Peter. "He bore our sins in his own body on the tree. For the love of him, shall we not gladly suffer what shall yet befall us? for he told us plainly that the world would hate us, even as it hated him; that we also should be persecuted, scourged, and put to death. Yet how soon will all be past, and then we shall go to him."

In the silence which followed these words a loud knocking was heard at the outer gate of the courtyard. Stephen arose quietly from his place and descended the stair. When he had opened the door, he saw standing in the street a man. He was meanly clad, as Stephen could see by the dim light; therefore his voice was more gentle than usual as he said:--

"What wilt thou, friend?"

"Is there here a young man called Stephen?"

"I am he; wilt thou enter?"

The man shuffled uneasily on his feet, then looked furtively up and down the street. "There be a sick man who hath need of thee for healing and strong words of thy faith," he said at length, fixing his eyes upon Stephen.

"Wouldst thou not rather inquire for one of the twelve?"

"Nay, it was for one Stephen, a Greek, I was bidden to ask. The man I have spoken of is also a Greek, and would not ask for healing at the hands of a Jew."

"The healing cometh from God," said Stephen gravely. "I will come though. Where is the sick man?"

"I will show thee where he lieth," said the man eagerly; "and I pray thee to make haste, for his case is desperate."

"Let me first speak to them that are within, I will join thee immediately," said Stephen, stepping back into the courtyard and leaving the door partly open.

The man listened to the sound of his retreating steps as he ascended the stair. "They be all above," he muttered, stepping softly within. "Now if by any chance--Ha! what is this? A capital warm cloak, 'twill serve to shelter me these chill nights. Body of Jove! but I am always in luck of late!"

When Stephen returned, the man was waiting humbly without as he had left him. The two immediately set forth, the man going before; they walked swiftly through the dark narrow streets, the stranger glancing frequently over his shoulder to make sure that Stephen was following. After a time he paused, "'Tis without the walls," he muttered hoarsely. "We must pass through the Jaffa Gate."

"There is moonlight," said Stephen rather absently, raising his eyes to the heavens, where in truth his thoughts had been as he followed his strange guide.

"There is moonlight," repeated the man with a hoarse chuckle. "So much the better."

Stephen looked at the speaker more attentively than he had done at first; the white light which poured down from above revealing clearly every feature of the brutal face before him. He started visibly. "I have somewhere seen thee before!" he exclaimed. "Nay I know now, thou art of them who formerly----"

The man laughed aloud. "I am Gestas; second in authority to Dumachus, who was chief of our band--and your father. Since the Romans put an end to him, along with Titus and the Nazarene, I have been chief."

"And is it one of your followers who is in need of healing?" asked Stephen, shrinking back a little with something of his old-time dread.

"It is. Art thou afraid?"

"No," returned Stephen quietly, "I am not afraid; surely of all men ye are most in need of the mighty help of the risen Lord; 'twere most fitting if so be that I may bring it into your midst."

Gestas looked at him with an indescribable mixture of contempt and pity. "Thou art a pretty enough fellow," he said, running his eyes over the slender but well-knit figure. "A thought too pretty indeed. Why art thou contented to pass thy days in the company of a band of crazy fools, who will end as their Master did--though he merited it not--on the cross. Why take the devil's wages without the devil's pleasures first? If now, I die on the cross, it will be for reasons better than preaching, praying, and the healing of dirty beggar folk."

"Afterward is the judgment," said Stephen.

"A fig for the afterwards!" cried Gestas. "Who knows anything about that? But, come," he added with a sudden change in his tones, "it lacks but an hour of midnight; thou must be gone before that time."

"I am not in haste to be gone," said Stephen gently. "I will remain until morning, if I can do anything to help."

"There is naught that thou canst do--after midnight," said Gestas gruffly. "If there is an afterwards," he muttered, "it will make no difference to him."

The two walked silently for a time, pausing at length at the edge of a low-growing coppice, through the interlacing branches of which could be seen the fitful flash of a dying fire. Making their way through the thicket by a winding path evidently well known to Gestas, the twain presently found themselves in the centre of the encampment.

"Where is the dying man?" said Stephen, eager to begin his ministry of love.

For answer, Gestas seized him by the arm and hurried him forward into the midst of a dark group of figures which seemed to be awaiting their approach. "Thou art the dying man!" he whispered hoarsely. "Prepare for thy afterwards swiftly."

Half involuntarily, Stephen made a mighty unavailing effort to free himself from the grasp of the ruffian who held him; life on a sudden looked very sweet to him. It could not be that God had appointed such an end as this for one who would serve him long and faithfully. Surely he was too young to die. Yet not younger than Titus, who had gone by the horrible way of the cross to be with him in Paradise. At the thought a great peace possessed his soul. "Not my will but thine be done," he murmured aloud, raising his eyes to the stars which glittered keenly through the interlacing branches overhead.

"So this is the man!" cried a rough voice, as a dozen hands bound him to the trunk of a tree. "It may be that if he hath the power to heal, as they say, he will be master also of other magic arts, which he will use to our undoing. Best make way with him quickly."

Stephen looked about on the crowd of evil faces which surrounded him, and a great wave of pity for his tormentors swept over him. So far were they from God, so deep in unfathomable depths of misery. For himself he felt no fear; from earth to heaven was but a single step.

"Men and brethren," he cried, and his voice rang out clear and sweet upon the startled air. "Let me live for yet a little space, till I shall declare unto you the words of life. For such as you, Jesus died upon the cross; he will save you from out the misery of this present life, and afterward give you the life that endeth not. Only believe on him and forsake your evil ways."

"Prate not to us of thy Jewish Messiah," cried one. "He is not for us, even if what thou sayest be true. We must die as we have lived. We be uncircumcised Greeks that care not for an everlasting abode with them that spit upon us in this life."

"Nay, but he died for the sins of the world, and he is risen from death to abide forever with the Father which made the Greek as well as the Jew, and loveth both alike."

"Give to us a sign!" cried another. "If what thou hast said be true, let the man Jesus come down out of the heavens and deliver thee, then will we believe on him; nay, more, thou shalt be our leader in place of Gestas here--who is too stupid to be chief."

At this Gestas swore a great oath of rage. "Stand back, all of you," he cried. "I will smite him; and there is none that shall deliver him out of my hand, either on earth or in heaven."

Then he raised his arm; Stephen caught the keen glitter of the steel. He closed his eyes. His lips moved in prayer. Something smote him on the breast, but it was not the soul-delivering blade, as he dimly realized ere his senses left him. Gestas, stricken full in the heart by an arrow sped from the bow of an unseen archer, had leapt straight into the air without a cry, then falling limply, his head striking against the prisoner, he lay, a grim unsightly heap, at Stephen's feet.

The others stood for an instant aghast, then with wild cries of fear they fled away into the thicket.

"I fear the knaves have done for him, whoever he be," cried a voice, as the figure of a young man bounded out of the bushes.

"Nay, my son," said Ben Hesed, who had followed more deliberately, "the miscreant had but raised his blade when my arrow smote him; let us loose the man here and get away from this place with all speed, for they will return and fall upon us, if they find that we be few."

"I must fetch the white dromedary," said the voice of Seth, at his elbow. "It is in yonder glade."

"Be quick, then; there is no time to lose!"

The moon had looked down for a full hour longer upon the dark motionless something, which lay just where it had fallen on the soft grass, when the thicket again opened and a man peered out. He looked about him cautiously, then turned and spoke reassuringly to some one behind him.

"There is no one here, Joca; come on!"

"It was a bolt from heaven assuredly which smote him; for there is naught missing save the man," said the other, looking keenly about in his turn at the familiar scene; "Let us get away from this place; I am sick of it."

"Ay! we will return to Greece where the old gods yet rule; I like not the ways of the god of this land; but first--" And the speaker cautiously approached the body of Gestas. "He hath something about him, which we shall have more need of than he. Ah! here it is, ten good pieces--if he have not already spent some of them."

"But there were to have been thirty pieces more."

"Ay! and more's the pity that they be lost to us."

"Why need they be lost to us, man?"

"What meanest thou?"

Joca whispered something in his companion's ear, whereat the other chuckled hoarsely.

"Why not?" he cried, "thou art a son of Minerva to have thought it."

The servant of Annas had waited outside the Jaffa gate for nearly two hours; he was growing impatient at last.

"I will not stay longer," he muttered, "something hath miscarried in the matter; it will be to-morrow--if the knave hath not failed me altogether."

But even as he spoke he saw a man approaching him. He at once stood forth in the full moonlight, bidding his companions remain within the shadow of the wall.

The man came up to him swiftly. "Art thou he who hath thirty pieces of gold to give in exchange for a strange commodity?"

"I am he. Hast thou the commodity?"

"Ay! it is here; wilt thou see it?"

The Jew shuddered at sight of the bag which the other tendered him. "No!" he said shortly. "Take the money and be gone." Then he turned to one of the slaves who waited his orders. "Take this," he commanded, "and fetch it to the palace."

CHAPTER XXI.

NOT A SPARROW FALLETH.

Something more than two years after the events narrated in the preceding chapter, a little group of men might have been seen standing in the portico of a building known as the Synagogue of the Nazarenes. They were conversing in low tones, but their excited gestures and gloomy faces betrayed the fact that the topic which they were discussing was not a pleasant one.

"There is unquestioned and open partiality on the part of the apostles toward them that be of Hebrew birth and descent," said one bitterly. "Though we be circumcised and walk after the law in all diligence, the fact that we are Greeks can be neither overlooked nor forgiven."

"I mind not what they think;" cried another sturdily, "a Greek is as good as a Jew any day, and we be all servants of one Master, even Christ; but it is not just that our widows and fatherless be neglected in the daily distributions, for we have all given freely of our substance into the common fund."

"I like not to boast, my Andronicus," said the third man almost in a whisper, "but I cannot forbear the thought that had I retained in mine own power what I aforetime laid down at the apostles' feet--freely and in all humility of mind, these tales of neglect would not now be coming to our ears."

None of the three had observed that a fourth man had joined himself to the group, till the newcomer spoke. "The neglect of which thou dost complain, my brothers," he said in a deep musical voice, "is not a neglect born of contempt for us because we are Greeks. I know these men through and through; they rest not day nor night, but labor incessantly, and in all unselfishness and love for the church, yet is the burden too heavy for them. Christ healed many that were sick and fed many that were hungry. Yet there remain multitudes of them that are blind, of them that are lepers, of them that hunger, who were also blind, leprous, and hungry, when our Master walked the earth. They came not unto him, and how could he succor them, being burdened with this humanity which doth irk us all?"

"What thou hast said, my Stephen, is true," admitted Andronicus. "But it is also true that among the Jewish widows there is no lack, while Priscilla and her little ones remained two days without food. Had she refrained from joining herself to us, she would have continued to receive aid from the Temple treasury; the woman herself declared it, and I could not gainsay her had I wished it. If there be not neglect born of contempt, there is assuredly a lack of wisdom."

"What hath been done for Priscilla?"

"My wife ministered to her necessities, as well as to those of Julia and Eunice."

"Hast thou spoken of this to Peter?" asked Stephen, looking troubled and turning to one of the others.

"Nay, I have not spoken of it; there should be no need to speak, say I."

"Forget not the word of the Master, 'Judge not that ye be not judged,' said Stephen, gravely. "We must look carefully within before we lightly censure any man--least of all the chosen and anointed ones of our Lord." Then after a thoughtful pause he added, "I will myself speak with John concerning these things."

The man who had first spoken, and who was called Apelles, looked after him as he walked away. "From him I can suffer reproof as from no other;" he said, "he hath within him the very spirit of the ascended One."

"Like the ascended One, he hath also enemies in high places;" said Andronicus, significantly, "the continued attempts made upon his life bear witness to the fact."

"What dost thou mean? He was threatened, it is true, by certain of the Sadducees because of his boldness in declaring the resurrection in their very midst, but no man laid hands on him."

"The Herodians, and especially the Pharisee from Tarsus, are bitter against him for some reason, which perhaps we understand not wholly. Hast thou forgotten his rescue by Ben Hesed more than two years ago; and also what happened thrice since--when by the barest chance he escaped with his life?"

"True, he has been mercifully preserved amidst great dangers; but each time there was a simple enough cause for the peril without attributing it to an enemy," said Apelles, thoughtfully. "Once it was from robbers, who would have slain him from the mere lust of murder, as is their wont. Again, a heavy stone fell from the wall above as he spake to the people, barely missing his head in its descent."

"Yes; I know all that thou wouldst say;" broke in the other, "but listen! Yesterday a basket of fruit was sent him, bearing a scroll inscribed thus: 'This fruit is for the saintly Stephen, from one who believes that the apples of Paradise are none too fair for such as he.'"

"A pretty conceit assuredly!"

"A most lovely conceit! Had he eaten, as the sender supposed that he would do, even now would the apples of Paradise be within his grasp."

"What meanest thou?"

"'I will not eat of this fair fruit,' said Stephen, 'instead I will bear it to the aged Clement, who hath only of late joined himself to us,' but while he waited for a convenient season for taking the gift, the fruit stood without on the ledge of the window, and the birds came and pecked it. Before they could fly away after their stolen meal the little creatures dropped dead."

"Horror! the fruit was poisoned then?"

"Assuredly. Now thou seest that he hath an enemy."

"But who?"

"I have my suspicions, and have warned him. His answer was this, 'He is with me alway even unto the end; until my appointed time there is nothing that shall be able to hurt me; neither shall I fear what man can do to me.'"

"Wonderful! I have confessed that Jesus is the Christ, but I fear me my faith in him is but a poor thing compared with that of Stephen; had the like happened to me I should have fled the city."

"'Twas what I urged upon him. Go away from Jerusalem, I said. There be Jews in every city of Greece who would gladly hear thee of the Christ; in the land of thy fathers shalt thou dwell in safety. But he shook his head. 'The day is not far distant,' he made answer, 'when not alone to the Jews shall this salvation be preached, but unto every people and kindred and tongue beneath the heavens; for Christ came to save the world, and therefore shall the world be saved; but it is not I who am called to this work; my place is here.'"

While the two Greeks thus spoke one to another of Stephen, the young man himself was passing rapidly through the streets towards his home, his thoughts busied chiefly with what Andronicus had told him concerning the daily ministrations. "The matter must be looked to," he said to himself. "The twelve are not sufficient for the work, God be praised. So mightily hath the spirit worked with and for us, that the day is not far distant when the cross shall cease to be a symbol of shame and hissing among men and shall everywhere be hailed the sacred token of deliverance."

Communing thus within himself he lifted up his eyes and beheld the square which lay before the palace of Pilate. "It was here," he murmured, "that they brought him on the day of his death. It was here that the people cried out 'Crucify him--Crucify him!' Ah, that awful day--nay rather that day of days, decreed from the foundations of the world!" Then he passed on into the square, being minded to look for a moment on the very place where he knew the Man of Sorrows had stood so patiently on that last day of his earthly life. As he approached the mosaic of many-colored marbles which marked the place of the judgment seat, a Roman chariot containing two men and drawn by a pair of powerful black horses dashed into the square.

"Dost see that fellow yonder, Herod?" exclaimed the man who stood behind the driver. "I mean the one with the white robe. 'Tis that beggarly Greek, Stephen, who hath been setting the city on an uproar of late with his driveling cant. I hate the whole blasphemous brood, but he is most contemptible of all."

"I will engage to run him down, if thou sayest it," said the man who held the reins, and across whose white tunic streamed a scarf of the imperial purple.

"Be it so!" answered his companion with a malignant scowl. "'Twill be a happy accident that rids the world of such an one."

"An accident of course," said the other with a brutal laugh. "Who would dare question it?" And he brought the long lash with a whistling curl about the glossy flanks of the horses; they leapt forward as one. Something else also leapt forward. There was a cry, and the sound of the iron hoofs was horribly dulled for an instant, then the chariot thundered on, and swept into the avenue beyond the palace.

"By the gods, Alexander!" cried Herod. "Didst see the man who leapt forward from behind? He dragged the beggar forth just in time; another instant and he would have been crushed beneath our wheels."

"I saw, yes," answered the other, grinding his teeth. "The wretch bears a charmed life."

"We will drive back to inquire of the accident," pursued Herod with a sneering laugh. "Pollux there struck something softer than the pavement. Hey! Pollux, my beauty? If it chanced to be the man's head he will prate no more of dead malefactors--nor yet of live ones. How now, fellow!" he shouted, reining in his struggling horses as they approached the borders of the crowd which had instantly gathered at the scene of the accident. "Was the man hurt seriously?"

"Not seriously, they say, your Highness," replied the man to whom he had spoken, bowing low at sight of his royal questioner; "but the stranger who rescued him hath beyond doubt suffered a mortal wound."

"The more fool he!" cried Herod contemptuously. As the horses again sprang forward in obedience to the lash, he turned to his companion with a wicked laugh. "'Twere a pretty pastime for our leisure to root out these pestiferous fellows from the Holy City, and 'twould doubtless cover a multitude of sins."

"May we count on thine assistance, my prince?" said Alexander eagerly. "We who are against the Nazarenes grow fewer each day; already the greater number of Pharisees either believe or regard them with tolerance. These all declare openly that the dead carpenter of Galilee is alive and is like to return any day to rule over Israel."

Herod's face darkened. "Let him return and attempt it!" he cried angrily. "Behind me--is Rome."

CHAPTER XXII.

BY THE THORNY WAYS OF HIS SIN.

Upon a couch in the house of John lay the stranger who had rescued Stephen from death. About him were gathered those of the household who chanced to be at home when the sad little procession had arrived.

"He gave his life for mine," said Stephen, solemnly, looking down at the quiet face across which the shadow of approaching death had already fallen. "And God hath accepted the sacrifice; it is not his will that he be restored. Would that I knew to whom I owe this debt of gratitude before he goes hence."

"He will recover consciousness, I think, shortly," said Mary, laying her cool white fingers on the brow of the sufferer. "He is assuredly not a Jew," she added, gazing intently at the dark face upon the pillows. "Fetch me a basin and sponge, my daughter; it may be that the cool water will revive him."

The girl to whom she had spoken hastened to obey. As she stooped to pour water from a jar which stood without in the courtyard, a young man hurriedly entered the enclosure.

"Where is Stephen?" he cried, as his eye fell upon the maiden. "I heard but just now that Herod had crushed him beneath his chariot wheels. A brutal deed. He that told me was an eye-witness."

"By the mercy of God," answered the girl with a half sob, "he hath escaped with a bruise; another was smitten in his place, and he is dying. I must hasten with the water!" and she sprang up and hurried away.

The young man followed, and approaching the group that surrounded the couch, he looked over the shoulder of the young girl as she held the basin ready for the hand of Mary. He started as his eye fell upon the wounded man.

"He is an Egyptian!" he exclaimed.

Even as he spoke, the man opened his eyes. "Water!" he gasped faintly. Stephen raised the languid head while the skilful hand of Mary held the cup.

"Lay him down again, gently--so," she said in a low voice.

Then Stephen bent over the pillow. "Canst thou tell us who thou art, and why it was that thou didst choose the life of another rather than thine own?"

The dull eyes brightened a little, "Did I save him? Ah, yes--thanks be to the gods! thou art alive. Did any hurt befall thee?"

"Nay--but I live, alas, because thou art to die."

"It is well, not only that thou wilt live, but that I shall die, if the God whom thou dost proclaim will but count my worthless life a sacrifice for my many sins."

"Nay, my brother," said Stephen, "if thou dost but believe on Jesus the Christ, there is no sacrifice needed for sin; he gave himself a sacrifice for our transgressions because of the love which he bare us."

"It cannot be that he loves me," said the sick man. "Listen till I shall tell thee all. I am an Egyptian, my name is Amu----"

The maiden who still stood at his bedside grew very white at the sound of that name, and the newcomer, who was watching from behind, reached quietly out and took the basin from her nerveless fingers. "Anat," he whispered, "'tis a common enough name."

"It is he," she returned, "I know the voice--but listen!"

"Early in life," continued the Egyptian, his voice gathering strength, "I was even as others, neither better, nor worse,--'tis not of those days I would speak, but of the days when I was a man grown--then it chanced that there came a certain stranger out of the wilderness with his wife and child, and sojourned in Egypt. He possessed gold and bought for himself a plot of land not far from the river. This he tilled with industry, so that after a time he gained more gold and bought still another bit of tillage. Not much, for land was costly in the neighborhood of the river. I was his neighbor and I was not unfriendly to him, for he was a stranger and knew not the ways of the people, nor at the first the proper grains to cast into the earth. And because I helped him in such small matters he loved me and clave to me, as also his wife; and I was ever an honored guest in their house. After a time, there came a great sickness over all the region about the upper Nile, because the river failed to overflow his banks at the proper season. The people were wasted by it, and they died by hundreds and by thousands. My father and my brothers died; and the plot of land which had been theirs came to me.

"After a time the man who had come out of the wilderness was likewise stricken, and his wife; and when it presently appeared that they both must die, he sent for me and spake to me after this manner, 'My friend, who hath been to me even as a brother in this land of strangers wherein we have sojourned, I am sorely stricken, both I and the mother of the children, and it must presently come to pass that we be gathered to our fathers; but before my soul passes I would fain speak to thee of my little ones who will be left desolate, if so be that the plague spares them.' 'Speak,' I made answer, 'I will do with them as thou dost command.' Then he told me how that he was a Greek born in Antioch, and the son of a rich man. After his father died a fierce quarrel arose betwixt the two brothers over the division of the inheritance; and when after many days the bitterness still continued, it came to pass that he smote his brother and wounded him sore; then taking what he would he fled away into the wilderness. There he took to himself a wife from the tribes that wandered in the desert and afterward came to dwell in Egypt.

"'Now I pray and beseech thee,' he said to me, 'by all that thou boldest sacred, that thou wilt take my two children and the price of the land--when thou shalt have sold it--and fetch them to my brother, for I have heard that he yet liveth, and say to him this: Thy brother is dead. He sendeth thee the money that he took away--and more; and here are also his two children. Let them find favor in thy sight, I pray thee, for they are desolate.'

"I promised my neighbor that I would do what he desired of me; and I sware it by the temple of Ptah Hotep, and by the sacred Nile, and by the soul of my father. And when he had told me his brother's name and how to find him, he turned himself about on his bed and spoke no more. In that same day both he and his wife perished. Of the two children one was likewise stricken, and I watched her many days till she recovered. Afterward I perceived that she had become blind by reason of the plague.

"That season I could not sell the land, for there were none to buy; so I planted the crops and reaped them, and the children ate and were satisfied; but the money I received for the grain I kept, for I said the laborer is worthy of his wages. The next season I also planted and reaped, and the next; and at the time of the third harvest a man came to me and said, 'Wilt thou sell this land for thy neighbor's children?' and I answered him 'Nay, I will not sell. My neighbor owed me money and he died without repaying me, therefore is the land mine!' And after a time I came almost to believe what I had said. But I waxed exceeding bitter against the two children, who were as yet only babes; so I sent them away to a woman who dwelt in the tombs above the river; and I paid her to keep them. Afterward she died, and the two continued to dwell alone in the tombs. They grew and waxed strong--though no one cared for them, for the boy was lusty and brave; he had become a water-carrier. Still I kept a watch upon them, for I feared lest they should in some way find out what I had done; though I confessed it to no one, not even my wife. After a time the fear grew upon me so that I could neither eat nor sleep, and I resolved to rid myself of the two. I had not yet grown evil enough to wish to slay them, so I turned the thing over in my mind for many days; at the last I was resolved what to do. I would sell them for slaves, then would they be taken away and I should be free from my fears; not only so, but I should receive gold, with which to buy more land. But when I would have accomplished my desires upon them, they fled away into the desert, and assuredly perished; for though I searched for them long, I could never find what had become of them."

"Why didst thou search for them," said Seth suddenly, as the man paused to drink from the cup which Mary again held to his parched lips.

"I searched for them," replied the man, his eyes resting upon his questioner's face with a startled expression, "because--Nay, I hardly know why. I had repented me of my desire to make slaves of them, but I was not ready to give up the land."

"What became of Besa?"

"I found him dead in the tomb where he thought the twain were hidden," answered the Egyptian as if in a dream. "But who art thou that dost question me?" and he half raised himself in the bed, his livid face growing yet more ghastly with the painful effort.

"We are the children of the man thou didst wrong," said Seth fiercely. "Tell me, what was the name of our kinsman, that we may yet seek him as our father willed?"

"His name was Erastus; but, alas, he is dead now these many years. I sought him that I might render an account of what I had done, for I feared death on account of my sin. Neither dared I pray any more to the avenging gods; for had I not foresworn myself in their names? So, because there was no longer any comfort for me in the lands which I possessed, nor in my children, nor in anything in the whole land of Egypt, I became a wanderer in far countries. Here in Jerusalem not many days since, I chanced to hear a wondrous thing, 'that they which had sinned might find peace and forgiveness in one Jesus of Nazareth, who had lived upon earth that he might save them which were lost.' That same day I beheld him that had spoken these words; and I drew near, desiring to ask him still further of the matter, when on a sudden I saw that he was in mortal peril. I scarce know what followed; but I longed to save him, if only that I might hear once more the strange story of the man Jesus. Tell me"--and the man's glazing eyes sought Stephen--"thou hast heard all--is there forgiveness for such as I?"

"There is forgiveness for every one that doth repent and believe in the Lord Jesus," said Stephen softly. "Surely thou mayest pass in peace, my brother; for God hath led thee even by the thorny ways of thy sin unto himself."

The dying man's eyes again brightened, his lips moved; then he stretched out his hand toward the youth and the maiden, who had sunken to their knees by his bedside. "Wilt thou also forgive?" he murmured.

"Yes--yes. We forgive thee fully, as also we hope to be forgiven," cried Seth, pressing his lips to the cold hand which had so cruelly wronged him.

"Thy mother--her name was Zarah," faltered the Egyptian--"she was the daughter--of--" his voice failed him; thrice he made an unavailing effort to speak, then the eternal silence fell softly upon him.

"He hath passed into the presence of the Love that hath led him through all the weary way of his life," said Mary solemnly. "There will he find peace."

CHAPTER XXIII.

IN THE SYNAGOGUE OF THE NAZARENES.

"For what have we been called together at this time, knowest thou?" asked a man of his neighbor in the crowd assembled before the synagogue of the Nazarenes. "Seeing that this is not the prescribed day for worship."

"'Tis that we may consider the matter of which the Grecians have been murmuring of late," replied the other. "Their widows, say they, are neglected in the daily ministrations."

"Not more than the widows of our own blood; the fault lieth with the young men to whom of late the apostles have been forced to give a part of the work. But see, the doors are opened."

The twain, together with the rest of the quiet and orderly multitude, passed into the porch, where each person paused for an instant to dip his hands into the brazen urn of water which stood without the door; this constituting the ceremonial washing of hands required before entering into the sacred enclosure.

The scene within did not differ materially from that which might have been seen in any other of the four hundred and eighty synagogues of Jerusalem. Against the wall opposite the entrance, beneath a canopy of purple cloth, stood the wooden chest or ark, containing the scrolls of the law. Above this ark burned the perpetual light, token of the visible glory of the Lord as it was revealed in that first temple which their forefathers had reared in the wilderness. This sacred light was a three-fold symbol, for it also served to remind the worshipper of the human soul, which is the breath of God; as it is written, "The spirit of man is the candle of the Lord." And of the divine law--"For thy commandment is a lamp; and thy law is light."

Here also facing the congregation was the desk from which the ruler of the synagogue was wont to preside over the worship; and at one side, elevated upon a raised platform, twelve wooden seats were provided for the twelve apostles--the visible heads of the Church; it being the custom in all synagogues to thus elevate above the common rank those who were considered the most enlightened. In these, as in all other respects, did the disciples walk orderly as after the law; being yet minded, despite the warning of the Master, to put the strong new wine of the Kingdom into the ancient bottles of Judaism.

On this day, after that the congregation had seated themselves in due order--the men upon one side of the room, the women and children upon the other, separated by a low wooden partition--the service was begun by the chanting of the sacrificial psalms; after which the whole congregation arose and repeated as with one voice the benediction called "The Creator of Light."

"Blessed art thou, O Lord our God, King of the universe, who createst light and formest darkness; who makest peace and createst all things. He in mercy causes the light to shine upon the earth and the inhabitants thereof, and in goodness renews every day the work of creation. Blessed art thou, the Creator of Light."

And also this--"the Great Love."

"With great love hast thou loved us, O Lord our God; thou hast shown us great and abundant mercy, O our Father and King, for the sake of our forefathers who trusted in thee! Thou who didst teach them the love of life; have mercy upon us and teach us also to praise thee, O Lord, who in love hast chosen thy people!"

Then did Matthias--who on this day had been chosen to lead the worship, and who like the rest of the congregation wore the fringed garment prescribed by law and the phylacteries upon his head and upon his left arm--arise, and cry aloud in the words of the ancient prayer which was called the Kadish; all the people joining heartily in the Amens.

"Exalted and hallowed be his great name in the world which he created according to his will; let his kingdom come in your lifetime, and in the lifetime of the whole house of Israel very speedily!"

"Amen!"

"Blessed be his great name, world without end."

"Amen!"

"Blessed and praised, celebrated and exalted, extolled and adorned, magnified and worshipped, be thy holy name; blessed be he far above all benedictions, hymns, thanks, praises, and consolations which have been uttered in this world."

"Amen!"

"May the prayers and supplications of all Israel be graciously received before their Father in heaven."

"Amen."

"May perfect peace descend from heaven, and life, upon us and all Israel."

"Amen!"

"May he who makes peace in his heaven confer peace upon us and all Israel."

"Amen!"

Then followed the eighteen benedictions, of which the first sentence only was repeated in a loud voice by the leader, the rest being recited by the congregation in unison. Save this prayer, which all repeated aloud and with a joyous tone of full expectation; for they knew him to whom they prayed. "To Jerusalem thy city in mercy return, and dwell in it according to thy promise; make it speedily in our day an everlasting building, and soon establish therein the throne of David. Blessed art thou, O Lord, who buildest Jerusalem." And so to the end, closing with the words, "Our Father, bless us all unitedly with the light of thy countenance; for in the light of thy countenance didst thou give to us, O Lord our God, the law of life, loving kindness, justice, blessing, compassion, life, and peace. May it please thee to bless thy people Israel at all times, and in every moment with peace. Blessed art thou, O Lord, who blessest thy people Israel with peace!"

Then followed the reading from the scriptures. Afterward Peter arose in his place and spoke to the people; he brought again to their remembrance the words of their risen Lord, 'how that they should continue to dwell together in all peace and love, forbearing one another and loving one another in expectation of that great day, perhaps nigh at hand, when he should return bringing his reward with him for them that had been faithful in all things.' He spoke also of the matter which had been troubling the minds of many during the days that were past.

"God knoweth, brethren," he said, "that we would not willingly neglect any, who by the grace of our Lord have joined themselves with us; least of all them who by reason of their affliction are dependent upon our bounty. If any have been neglected it is because of the weakness of the flesh. The work hath waxed too great for us; for besides this duty of the daily distribution of bodily food to them that lack, there remaineth also the duty whereunto we were set apart by the Master himself--of preaching the good tidings of salvation from sin and from death unto all men. 'It is not reason that we should set aside the work of God to serve tables'--and it is manifest that we cannot longer do both--'wherefore, brethren, look ye out among you seven men of honest report, full of the Holy Ghost and wisdom, whom we may appoint over this business. But we will give ourselves continually to prayer and to the ministry of the word.'"

And when he had finished speaking, Philip arose in his place.

"If I read aright your faces, my brothers," he said, looking around about upon the multitude, "this good saying hath pleased you all. Let us therefore choose, and that there may no longer be any thought of jealousy betwixt Jew and Greek--which thing also must be displeasing unto him, who according to his word, is at this time in our midst--let it come to pass that of the seven which we shall choose, three shall be Hebrews, three Greeks and one a proselyte. Then shall there be no longer need nor excuse that any should murmur concerning this matter of the dispensations."

And these sayings being approved of them which were assembled, one Aristarchus arose and presented the name of Stephen for the honorable office of deacon. "For he is," declared the speaker, "as is known unto you all, a man full of faith and of the Spirit."

And all the people cried with one voice: "Worthy! He is worthy!"

Then did they in the same manner choose also Philip and Prochorus, Nicanor, Timon, and Parmenas; and also, according to the word of Philip, Nicolas of Antioch, who was a convert to the Jewish faith. And these seven stood up before the apostles and before all the congregation of the people; and when the apostles had prayed they laid their hands upon them, in token that thus were they set apart unto the sacred duties of their calling.

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