BOOK EIGHTH
"Who could resist? Who in this universe?
She did so breathe ambrosia, so immerse
My fine existence in a golden clime.
She took me like a child of suckling-time,
And cradled me in roses. Thus condemn'd,
The current of my former life was stemm'd,
And to this arbitrary queen of sense
I bow'd a tranced vassal."
KEATS,
Endymion.
"I am the resurrection and the
life."
CHAPTER I
"Esther -
Esther! Speak to the servant below that he may bring me a cup of water."
"Would you
not rather have wine, father?"
"Let him
bring both."
This was in the
summer-house upon the roof of the old palace of the Hurs in Jerusalem. From the
parapet overlooking the court-yard Esther called to a man in waiting there; at
the same moment another man-servant came up the steps and saluted respectfully.
"A package
for the master," he said, giving her a letter enclosed in linen cloth,
tied and sealed.
For the
satisfaction of the reader, we stop to say that it is the twenty-first day of
March, nearly three years after the annunciation of the Christ at Bethabara.
In the meanwhile,
Malluch, acting for Ben-Hur, who could not longer endure the emptiness and
decay of his father's house, had bought it from Pontius Pilate; and, in process
of repair, gates, courts, lewens, stairways, terraces, rooms, and roof had been
cleansed and thoroughly restored; not only was there no reminder left of the
tragic circumstances so ruinous to the family, but the refurnishment was in a
style richer than before. At every point, indeed, a visitor was met by
evidences of the higher tastes acquired by the young proprietor during his
years of residence in the villa by Misenum and in the Roman capital.
Now it should not
be inferred from this explanation that Ben-Hur had publicly assumed ownership
of the property. In his opinion, the hour for that was not yet come. Neither
had he yet taken his proper name. Passing the time in the labors of preparation
in Galilee, he waited patiently the action of the Nazarene, who became daily
more and more a mystery to him, and by prodigies done, often before his eyes,
kept him in a state of anxious doubt both as to his character and mission.
Occasionally he came up to the Holy City, stopping at the paternal house;
always, however, as a stranger and a guest.
These visits of
Ben-Hur, it should also be observed, were for more than mere rest from labor.
Balthasar and Iras made their home in the palace; and the charm of the daughter
was still upon him with all its original freshness, while the father, though
feebler in body, held him an unflagging listener to speeches of astonishing
power, urging the divinity of the wandering miracle-worker of whom they were
all so expectant.
As to Simonides
and Esther, they had arrived from Antioch only a few days before this their
reappearance - a wearisome journey to the merchant, borne, as he had been, in a
palanquin swung between two camels, which, in their careening, did not always
keep the same step. But now that he was come, the good man, it seemed, could
not see enough of his native land. He delighted in the perch upon the roof, and
spent most of his day hours there seated in an arm-chair, the duplicate of that
one kept for him in the cabinet over the store-house by the Orontes. In the
shade of the summer-house he could drink fully of the inspiring air lying
lightly upon the familiar hills; he could better watch the sun rise, run its
course, and set as it used to in the far-gone, not a habit lost; and with
Esther by him it was so much easier up there close to the sky, to bring back
the other Esther, his love in youth, his wife, dearer growing with the passage
of years. And yet he was not unmindful of business. Every day a messenger
brought him a despatch from Sanballat, in charge of the big commerce behind;
and every day a despatch left him for Sanballat with directions of such
minuteness of detail as to exclude all judgment save his own, and all chances
except those the Almighty has refused to submit to the most mindful of men.
As Esther started
in return to the summer-house, the sunlight fell softly upon the dustless roof,
showing her a woman now - small, graceful in form, of regular features, rosy
with youth and health, bright with intelligence, beautiful with the outshining
of a devoted nature - a woman to be loved because loving was a habit of life
irrepressible with her.
She looked at the
package as she turned, paused, looked at it a second time more closely than at
first; and the blood rose reddening her cheeks - the seal was Ben-Hur's. With
quickened steps she hastened on.
Simonides held
the package a moment while he also inspected the seal. Breaking it open, he
gave her the roll it contained.
"Read,"
he said.
His eyes were
upon her as he spoke, and instantly a troubled expression fell upon his own
face.
"You know
who it is from, I see, Esther."
"Yes - from
- our master."
Though the manner
was halting, she met his gaze with modest sincerity. Slowly his chin sank into
the roll of flesh puffed out under it like a cushion.
"You love
him, Esther," he said, quietly.
"Yes,"
she answered.
"Have you
thought well of what you do?"
"I have
tried not to think of him, father, except as the master to whom I am dutifully
bound. The effort has not helped me to strength."
"A good
girl, a good girl, even as thy mother was," he said, dropping into
reverie, from which she roused him by unrolling the paper.
"The Lord
forgive me, but - but thy love might not have been vainly given had I kept fast
hold of all I had, as I might have done - such power is there in money!"
"It would
have been worse for me had you done so, father; for then I had been unworthy a
look from him, and without pride in you. Shall I not read now?"
"In a
moment," he said. "Let me, for your sake, my child, show you the
worst. Seeing it with me may make it less terrible to you. His love, Esther, is
all bestowed."
"I know
it," she said, calmly.
"The
Egyptian has him in her net," he continued. "She has the cunning of
her race, with beauty to help her - much beauty, great cunning; but, like her
race again, no heart. The daughter who despises her father will bring her
husband to grief."
"Does she
that?"
Simonides went
on:
"Balthasar
is a wise man who has been wonderfully favored for a Gentile, and his faith
becomes him; yet she makes a jest of it. I heard her say, speaking of him
yesterday, 'The follies of youth are excusable; nothing is admirable in the
aged except wisdom, and when that goes from them, they should die.' A cruel
speech, fit for a Roman. I applied it to myself, knowing a feebleness like her
father's will come to me also - nay, it is not far off. But you, Esther, will
never say of me - no, never - 'It were better he were dead.' No, your mother
was a daughter of Judah."
With half-formed
tears, she kissed him, and said, "I am my mother's child."
"Yes, and my
daughter - my daughter, who is to me all the Temple was to Solomon."
After a silence,
he laid his hand upon her shoulder, and resumed: "When he has taken the
Egyptian to wife, Esther, he will think of you with repentance and much calling
of the spirit; for at last he will awake to find himself but the minister of
her bad ambition. Rome is the centre of all her dreams. To her he is the son of
Arrius the duumvir, not the son of Hur, Prince of Jerusalem."
Esther made no
attempt to conceal the effect of these words.
"Save him,
father! It is not too late!" she said, entreatingly.
He answered, with
a dubious smile, "A man drowning may be saved; not so a man in love."
"But you
have influence with him. He is alone in the world. Show him his danger. Tell
him what a woman she is."
"That might
save him from her. Would it give him to you, Esther? No," and his brows
fell darkly over his eyes. "I am a servant, as my fathers were for
generations; yet I could not say to him, 'Lo, master, my daughter! She is
fairer than the Egyptian, and loves thee better!' I have caught too much from
years of liberty and direction. The words would blister my tongue. The stones
upon the old hills yonder would turn in their beds for shame when I go out to
them. No, by the patriarchs, Esther, I would rather lay us both with your
mother to sleep as she sleeps!"
A blush burned
Esther's whole face.
"I did not
mean you to tell him so, father. I was concerned for him alone - for his happiness,
not mine. Because I have dared love him, I shall keep myself worthy his
respect; so only can I excuse my folly. Let me read his letter now."
"Yes, read
it."
She began at
once, in haste to conclude the distasteful subject.
"Nisan, 8th
day.
"On the road
from Galilee to Jerusalem.
"The
Nazarene is on the way also. With him, though without his knowledge, I am
bringing a full legion of mine. A second legion follows. The Passover will
excuse the multitude. He said upon setting out, 'We will go up to Jerusalem,
and all things that are written by the prophets concerning me shall be
accomplished.'
"Our waiting
draws to an end.
"In haste.
"Peace to
thee, Simonides.
"BEN-HUR."
Esther returned
the letter to her father, while a choking sensation gathered in her throat.
There was not a word in the missive for her - not even in the salutation had
she a share - and it would have been so easy to have written "and to
thine, peace." For the first time in her life she felt the smart of a
jealous sting.
"The eighth
day," said Simonides, "the eighth day; and this, Esther, this is the
-”
"The
ninth," she replied.
"Ah, then,
they may be in Bethany now."
"And
possibly we may see him to-night," she added, pleased into momentary
forgetfulness.
"It may be,
it may be! To-morrow is the Feast of Unleavened Bread, and he may wish to
celebrate it; so may the Nazarene; and we may see him - we may see both of
them, Esther."
At this point the
servant appeared with the wine and water. Esther helped her father, and in the midst
of the service Iras came upon the roof.
To the Jewess the
Egyptian never appeared so very, very beautiful as at that moment. Her gauzy
garments fluttered about her like a little cloud of mist; her forehead, neck,
and arms glittered with the massive jewelry so affected by her people. Her
countenance was suffused with pleasure. She moved with buoyant steps, and
self-conscious, though without affectation. Esther at the sight shrank within
herself, and nestled closer to her father.
"Peace to
you, Simonides, and to the pretty Esther peace," said Iras, inclining her
head to the latter. "You remind me, good master - if I may say it without
offence-you remind me of the priests in Persia who climb their temples at the
decline of day to send prayers after the departing sun. Is there anything in
the worship you do not know, let me call my father. He is Magian-bred."
"Fair
Egyptian," the merchant replied, nodding with grave politeness, "your
father is a good man who would not be offended if he knew I told you his
Persian lore is the least part of his wisdom."
Iras's lip curled
slightly.
"To speak
like a philosopher, as you invite me," she said, "the least part
always implies a greater. Let me ask what you esteem the greater part of the
rare quality you are pleased to attribute to him."
Simonides turned
upon her somewhat sternly.
"Pure wisdom
always directs itself towards God; the purest wisdom is knowledge of God; and
no man of my acquaintance has it in higher degree, or makes it more manifest in
speech and act, than the good Balthasar."
To end the
parley, he raised the cup and drank.
The Egyptian
turned to Esther a little testily.
"A man who
has millions in store, and fleets of ships at sea, cannot discern in what
simple women like us find amusement. Let us leave him. By the wall yonder we
can talk."
They went to the
parapet then, stopping at the place where, years before, Ben-Hur loosed the
broken tile upon the head of Gratus.
"You have
not been to Rome?" Iras began, toying the while with one of her unclasped
bracelets.
"No,"
said Esther, demurely.
"Have you
not wished to go?"
"No."
"Ah, how
little there has been of your life!"
The sigh that
succeeded the exclamation could not have been more piteously expressive had the
loss been the Egyptian's own. Next moment her laugh might have been heard in
the street below; and she said "Oh, oh, my pretty simpleton! The
half-fledged birds nested in the ear of the great bust out on the Memphian
sands know nearly as much as you."
Then, seeing
Esther's confusion, she changed her manner, and said in a confiding tone,
"You must not take offence. Oh no! I was playing. Let me kiss the hurt,
and tell you what I would not to any other - not if Simbel himself asked it of
me, offering a lotus-cup of the spray of the Nile!"
Another laugh,
masking excellently the look she turned sharply upon the Jewess, and she said,
"The King is coming."
Esther gazed at
her in innocent surprise.
"The
Nazarene," Iras continued -”he whom our fathers have been talking about so
much, whom Ben-Hur has been serving and toiling for so long" - her voice
dropped several tones lower -”the Nazarene will be here to-morrow, and Ben-Hur
to-night."
Esther struggled
to maintain her composure, but failed: her eyes fell, the tell-tale blood
surged to her cheek and forehead, and she was saved sight of the triumphant
smile that passed, like a gleam, over the face of the Egyptian.
"See, here
is his promise."
And from her
girdle she took a roll.
"Rejoice
with me, O my friend! He will be here tonight! On the Tiber there is a house, a
royal property, which he has pledged to me; and to be its mistress is to be -”
A sound of some
one walking swiftly along the street below interrupted the speech, and she
leaned over the parapet to see. Then she drew back, and cried, with hands
clasped above her head, "Now blessed be Isis! 'Tis he - Ben-Hur himself!
That he should appear while I had such thought of him! There are no gods if it
be not a good omen. Put your arms about me, Esther - and a kiss!"
The Jewess looked
up. Upon each cheek there was a glow; her eyes sparkled with a light more
nearly of anger than ever her nature emitted before. Her gentleness had been
too roughly overridden. It was not enough for her to be forbidden more than
fugitive dreams of the man she loved; a boastful rival must tell her in
confidence of her better success, and of the brilliant promises which were its
rewards. Of her, the servant of a servant, there had been no hint of
remembrance; this other could show his letter, leaving her to imagine all it
breathed. So she said,
"Dost thou
love him so much, then, or Rome so much better?"
The Egyptian drew
back a step; then she bent her haughty head quite near her questioner.
"What is he
to thee, daughter of Simonides?"
Esther, all
thrilling, began, "He is my -”
A thought
blasting as lightning stayed the words: she paled, trembled, recovered, and
answered,
"He is my
father's friend."
Her tongue had
refused to admit her servile condition.
Iras laughed more
lightly than before.
"Not more
than that?" she said. "Ah, by the lover-gods of Egypt, thou mayst
keep thy kisses - keep them. Thou hast taught me but now that there are others
vastly more estimable waiting me here in Judea; and" - she turned away,
looking back over her shoulder -”I will go get them. Peace to thee."
Esther saw her
disappear down the steps, when, putting her hands over her face, she burst into
tears so they ran scalding through her fingers - tears of shame and choking
passion. And, to deepen the paroxysm to her even temper so strange, up with a
new meaning of withering force rose her father's words -”Thy love might not
have been vainly given had I kept fast hold of all I had, as I might have
done."
And all the stars
were out, burning low above the city and the dark wall of mountains about it,
before she recovered enough to go back to the summer-house, and in silence take
her accustomed place at her father's side, humbly waiting his pleasure. To such
duty it seemed her youth, if not her life, must be given. And, let the truth be
said, now that the pang was spent, she went not unwillingly back to the duty.
CHAPTER II
An hour or
thereabouts after the scene upon the roof, Balthasar and Simonides, the latter
attended by Esther, met in the great chamber of the palace; and while they were
talking, Ben-Hur and Iras came in together.
The young Jew,
advancing in front of his companion, walked first to Balthasar, and saluted
him, and received his reply; then he turned to Simonides, but paused at sight
of Esther.
It is not often
we have hearts roomy enough for more than one of the absorbing passions at the
same time; in its blaze the others may continue to live, but only as lesser
lights. So with Ben-Hur, much study of possibilities, indulgence of hopes and
dreams, influences born of the condition of his country, influences more direct
- that of Iras, for example - had made him in the broadest worldly sense
ambitious; and as he had given the passion place, allowing it to become a rule,
and finally an imperious governor, the resolves and impulses of former days
faded imperceptibly out of being, and at last almost out of recollection. It is
at best so easy to forget our youth; in his case it was but natural that his
own sufferings and the mystery darkening the fate of his family should move him
less and less as, in hope at least, he approached nearer and nearer the goals
which occupied all his visions. Only let us not judge him too harshly.
He paused in
surprise at seeing Esther a woman now, and so beautiful; and as he stood
looking at her a still voice reminded him of broken vows and duties undone:
almost his old self returned.
For an instant he
was startled; but recovering, he went to Esther, and said, "Peace to thee,
sweet Esther - peace; and thou, Simonides" - he looked to the merchant as
he spoke -”the blessing of the Lord be thine, if only because thou hast been a
good father to the fatherless."
Esther heard him
with downcast face; Simonides answered,
"I repeat
the welcome of the good Balthasar, son of Hur - welcome to thy father's house;
and sit, and tell us of thy travels, and of thy work, and of the wonderful
Nazarene - who he is, and what. If thou art not at ease here, who shall be?
Sit, I pray - there, between us, that we may all hear."
Esther stepped
out quickly and brought a covered stool, and set it for him.
"Thanks,"
he said to her, gratefully.
When seated,
after some other conversation, he addressed himself to the men.
"I have come
to tell you of the Nazarene."
The two became
instantly attentive.
"For many
days now I have followed him with such watchfulness as one may give another
upon whom he is waiting so anxiously. I have seen him under all circumstances
said to be trials and tests of men; and while I am certain he is a man as I am,
not less certain am I that he is something more."
"What
more?" asked Simonides.
"I will tell
you -”
Some one coming
into the room interrupted him; he turned, and arose with extended hands.
"Amrah! Dear
old Amrah!" he cried.
She came forward;
and they, seeing the joy in her face, thought not once how wrinkled and tawny
it was. She knelt at his feet, clasped his knees, and kissed his hands over and
over; and when he could he put the lank gray hair from her cheeks, and kissed
them, saying, "Good Amrah, have you nothing, nothing of them - not a word
- not one little sign?"
Then she broke
into sobbing which made him answer plainer even than the spoken word.
"God's will
has been done," he next said, solemnly, in a tone to make each listener
know he had no hope more of finding his people. In his eyes there were tears
which he would not have them see, because he was a man.
When he could
again, he took seat, and said, "Come, sit by me, Amrah - here. No? then at
my feet; for I have much to say to these good friends of a wonderful man come into
the world."
But she went off,
and stooping with her back to the wall, joined her hands before her knees,
content, they all thought, with seeing him. Then Ben-Hur, bowing to the old
men, began again:
"I fear to
answer the question asked me about the Nazarene without first telling you some
of the things I have seen him do; and to that I am the more inclined, my
friends, because to-morrow he will come to the city, and go up into the Temple,
which he calls his father's house, where, it is further said, he will proclaim
himself. So, whether you are right, O Balthasar, or you, Simonides, we and
Israel shall know to-morrow."
Balthasar rubbed
his hands tremulously together, and asked, "Where shall I go to see
him?"
"The
pressure of the crowd will be very great. Better, I think, that you all go upon
the roof above the cloisters - say upon the Porch of Solomon."
"Can you be
with us?"
"No,"
said Ben-Hur, "my friends will require me, perhaps, in the
procession."
"Procession!"
exclaimed Simonides. "Does he travel in state?"
Ben-Hur saw the
argument in mind.
"He brings
twelve men with him, fishermen, tillers of the soil, one a publican, all of the
humbler class; and he and they make their journeys on foot, careless of wind,
cold, rain, or sun. Seeing them stop by the wayside at nightfall to break bread
or lie down to sleep, I have been reminded of a party of shepherds going back
to their flocks from market, not of nobles and kings. Only when he lifts the
corners of his handkerchief to look at some one or shake the dust from his
head, I am made known he is their teacher as well as their companion - their
superior not less than their friend.
"You are
shrewd men," Ben-Hur resumed, after a pause. "You know what creatures
of certain master motives we are, and that it has become little less than a law
of our nature to spend life in eager pursuit of certain objects; now, appealing
to that law as something by which we may know ourselves, what would you say of
a man who could be rich by making gold of the stones under his feet, yet is
poor of choice?"
"The Greeks
would call him a philosopher," said Iras.
"Nay,
daughter," said Balthasar, "the philosophers had never the power to
do such thing."
"How know
you this man has?"
Ben-Hur answered
quickly, "I saw him turn water into wine."
"Very
strange, very strange," said Simonides; "but it is not so strange to
me as that he should prefer to live poor when he could be so rich. Is he so
poor?"
"He owns
nothing, and envies nobody his owning. He pities the rich. But passing that,
what would you say to see a man multiply seven loaves and two fishes, all his
store, into enough to feed five thousand people, and have full baskets over?
That I saw the Nazarene do."
"You saw
it?" exclaimed Simonides.
"Ay, and ate
of the bread and fish."
"More
marvellous still," Ben-Hur continued, "what would you say of a man in
whom there is such healing virtue that the sick have but to touch the hem of
his garment to be cured, or cry to him afar? That, too, I witnessed, not once,
but many times. As we came out of Jericho two blind men by the wayside called
to the Nazarene, and he touched their eyes, and they saw. So they brought a
palsied man to him, and he said merely, 'Go unto thy house,' and the man went
away well. What say you to these things?"
The merchant had
no answer.
"Think you
now, as I have heard others argue, that what I have told you are tricks of
jugglery? Let me answer by recalling greater things which I have seen him do.
Look first to that curse of God - comfortless, as you all know, except by death
- leprosy."
At these words
Amrah dropped her hands to the floor, and in her eagerness to hear him half
arose.
"What would
you say," said Ben-Hur, with increased earnestness -”what would you say to
have seen that I now tell you? A leper came to the Nazarene while I was with
him down in Galilee, and said, 'Lord, if thou wilt, thou canst make me clean.'
He heard the cry, and touched the outcast with his hand, saying, 'Be thou
clean;' and forthwith the man was himself again, healthful as any of us who
beheld the cure, and we were a multitude."
Here Amrah arose,
and with her gaunt fingers held the wiry locks from her eyes. The brain of the
poor creature had long since gone to heart, and she was troubled to follow the
speech.
"Then, again,"
said Ben-Hur, without stop, "ten lepers came to him one day in a body, and
falling at his feet, called out - I saw and heard it all - called out, 'Master,
Master, have mercy upon us!' He told them, 'Go, show yourselves to the priest,
as the law requires; and before you are come there ye shall be healed.'"
"And were
they?"
"Yes. On the
road going their infirmity left them, so that there was nothing to remind us of
it except their polluted clothes."
"Such thing
was never heard before - never in all Israel!" said Simonides, in
undertone.
And then, while
he was speaking, Amrah turned away, and walked noiselessly to the door, and
went out; and none of the company saw her go.
"The
thoughts stirred by such things done under my eyes I leave you to imagine,"
said Ben-Hur, continuing; "but my doubts, my misgivings, my amazement,
were not yet at the full. The people of Galilee are, as you know, impetuous and
rash; after years of waiting their swords burned their hands; nothing would do
them but action. 'He is slow to declare himself; let us force him,' they cried
to me. And I too became impatient. If he is to be king, why not now? The
legions are ready. So as he was once teaching by the seaside we would have
crowned him whether or not; but he disappeared, and was next seen on a ship
departing from the shore. Good Simonides, the desires that make other men mad -
riches, power, even kingships offered out of great love by a great people -
move this one not at all. What say you?"
The merchant's
chin was low upon his breast; raising his head, he replied, resolutely,
"The Lord liveth, and so do the words of the prophets. Time is in the
green yet; let to-morrow answer."
"Be it
so," said Balthasar, smiling.
And Ben-Hur said,
"Be it so." Then he went on: "But I have not yet done. From
these things, not too great to be above suspicion by such as did not see them
in performance as I did, let me carry you now to others infinitely greater,
acknowledged since the world began to be past the power of man. Tell me, has
any one to your knowledge ever reached out and taken from Death what Death has
made his own? Who ever gave again the breath of a life lost? Who but -”
"God!"
said Balthasar, reverently.
Ben-Hur bowed.
"O wise
Egyptian! I may not refuse the name you lend me. What would you - or you,
Simonides - what would you either or both have said had you seen as I did, a
man, with few words and no ceremony, without effort more than a mother's when
she speaks to wake her child asleep, undo the work of Death? It was down at Nain.
We were about going into the gate, when a company came out bearing a dead man.
The Nazarene stopped to let the train pass. There was a woman among them
crying. I saw his face soften with pity. He spoke to her, then went and touched
the bier, and said to him who lay upon it dressed for burial, 'Young man, I say
unto thee, Arise!' And instantly the dead sat up and talked."
"God only is
so great," said Balthasar to Simonides.
"Mark
you," Ben-Hur proceeded, "I do but tell you things of which I was a
witness, together with a cloud of other men. On the way hither I saw another
act still more mighty. In Bethany there was a man named Lazarus, who died and
was buried; and after he had lain four days in a tomb, shut in by a great
stone, the Nazarene was shown to the place. Upon rolling the stone away, we
beheld the man lying inside bound and rotting. There were many people standing
by, and we all heard what the Nazarene said, for he spoke in a loud voice:
'Lazarus, come forth!' I cannot tell you my feelings when in answer, as it
were, the man arose and came out to us with all his cerements about him. 'Loose
him,' said the Nazarene next, 'loose him, and let him go.' And when the napkin
was taken from the face of the resurrected, lo, my friends! the blood ran anew through
the wasted body, and he was exactly as he had been in life before the sickness
that took him off. He lives yet, and is hourly seen and spoken to. You may go
see him to-morrow. And now, as nothing more is needed for the purpose, I ask
you that which I came to ask, it being but a repetition of what you asked me, O
Simonides, What more than a man is this Nazarene?"
The question was
put solemnly, and long after midnight the company sat and debated it; Simonides
being yet unwilling to give up his understanding of the sayings of the
prophets, and Ben-Hur contending that the elder disputants were both right -
that the Nazarene was the Redeemer, as claimed by Balthasar, and also the
destined king the merchant would have.
"To-morrow
we will see. Peace to you all."
So saying,
Ben-Hur took his leave, intending to return to Bethany.
