not such words, my father," cried Deborah, kneeling by his side, and placing his hands upon her forehead in claiming his blessing.
"It is Benjamin, father. They have brought him back to us, and——"
"Benjamin!" cried the old man, his voice failing in utterance until it became almost a hiss. "Benjamin! I have no son Benjamin. He has disowned his name; I disown his blood. What does the traitor Glaucon do in the house of Elkiah? Let him be gone! I charge thee, Deborah, if thou be a true daughter, banish him from our house."
"But, father——"
"Nay, let him be gone!"
"But, father, Benjamin is harmed; wounded; it may be he is killed."
The venerable man raised himself on his arm, and stared about him. Deborah laid him gently back upon the pillows.
"Oh, father, do not curse him. It may be he will not live. Do not curse him."
He gazed at her, taking her face between his hands and drawing it close to his.
"Aye, my Miriam again! Would God, Deborah, you had been my son!"
"But, father, pity our Benjamin. He is grievously hurt."
A change passed over the features of Elkiah. Suddenly the tears dimmed his sight, and he said:
"Benjamin hurt? My boy? The child of Miriam harmed? Where is he? Help me, that I may go to him."
He vainly tried to rise. His hands clenched as he muttered:
"The Lord avenge the house of Elkiah upon the heads of the heathen! The Lord spare my child! Benjamin! Benjamin! Would God I had died for thee!"
When she had seen the wounded man brought safely into the lower chamber, Deborah quickly searched every part of the house, and her cry for Caleb rang from the roof to the court.
"He is not here. I will go again to the street."
The strong, but kind, hand of Dion blocked the way: "Nay, good maiden, you cannot return to the city. I will go where you could not. I swear to search the streets and camps if you will but pledge me to abide here."
"A pledge to a Greek!"
But the look of scorn passed quickly from her face, as she saw the solicitude in his. After a little thought, in which her agitated manner told that she could keep such a promise only with her body, and that her whole soul would go with Dion in his search, she replied:
"It is well. I see it is my duty to stay here, sir. But hasten! Hasten, and I will pray for you every step. The Lord bless you, good sir!"
"Your own blessing were enough," said Dion, as he ran down the steps.
VI
A JEWISH CUPID
Dion knew that a personal search for the lad among the crowds of soldiers, who were lodged in half the houses of the city, and in hundreds of tents beyond the walls, would be a long, if not a useless one, since, if any persons had captured the child, they would have reason for concealing his whereabouts. Dion went, therefore, at once to the headquarters of Apollonius, that he might obtain an order that none would dare disregard.
The house appropriated to the Governor's use was the palace on Mount Sion. Though the finest residential structure in Jerusalem, like Elkiah's house, it was but a sorry scion of its architectural pedigree. For instead of the colonnades where Solomon once walked, and the golden roof which had sheltered the harem of that pious libertine, where now the lime whitened walls and domes of what, but for its site, might have been taken for a caravansery.
Captain Dion passed through the court, with its broken ancient fountains and cheap reproductions of recent Greek statuary. He was greeted by Apollonius at the entrance to the hall of audience.
"Welcome, Dion! In time to sup with me to-night. After the feast we will have a symposium that will make the dead Alexander come to life with envy. He would risk another death by fever for the sake of a draught of such wines as the King has sent me from Antioch."
Dion excused himself, and stated the purpose of his visit.
"Nay; so jovial and witty a comrade as yourself cannot be let off," cried the roystering commandant. "Nor need you trouble yourself about the boy. I will issue the order that he be brought here. It will be a quicker way and more certain—that is, if the circumcised dog be living, which we may doubt; for, since the permission given yesterday, the men are making short work of all this Jewish spawn."
Dion changed his tack, and urged that he must return to take care of his friend Glaucon.
"What care you for the traitor Glaucon?" replied the General. "If that man betrays his own race he will not be true to you. It is enough that such creatures as Glaucon are allowed to live, and keep their property, which should be our common spoil. Let him die of his hurt; we shall all be the better off, with one Jew less and houses more. But stay you shall, Dion, or, by Herakles! I will issue orders to cut the boy's throat when found. No carouse is complete if Dion be absent," he said, throwing his arm about him. "Come now, it's a treaty with you. I know that your friendship is not for Glaucon, but for the black-eyed Diana, his sister, whom I saw to-day. Drink with us you shall, or I shall be jealous as Zeus is of his Hera, and send your Jewish goddess straight to Antiochus as a gift. Go, then, get your ivy and head-grease, and come back quickly; for see, the gnomon already casts shadow of six paces—the hour the gods themselves have set for supper."
"Then I must eat your dainty meats," said Dion, seeing the futility of opposing the distempered will of his superior. Veiling his resentment under a forced hilarity, he retired, and a half-hour later returned in company with the other guests.
These were high officers in gorgeous togas, and caps whose tasselled tops lapped down to their shoulders. Each of these revellers was accompanied to the palace by one or more slaves, who would wait upon their masters at the feast, and take them home when drunk. A few subalterns were invited who, like Dion, compensated for lack of rank by their ready wit and their repertoire of stories and songs.
As the guests reclined upon the cushions their shoes were unlaced and removed by Apollonius' menials, their feet washed in scented water, and gently rubbed with towels, while their caps were displaced by crowns of bay leaves gemmed with the pearly berries. Then the low tables were drawn within reach, laden with all that the distant markets of Antioch could furnish; for the conquered land of Judea gave them not so much as a fig or date. The Jews had left for the invaders only fish and game; but woe to the Syrian soldier who should venture beyond his camps to drop a line in lake or send an arrow after beast or bird!
The viands were quickly disposed of, for, following the Greek custom, no wine was poured until the meats and spicy condiments had created abundant thirst.
"A soldier's hunger is soon satisfied, but his thirst is like the river Oceanus that runs round the earth and has no end," cried Apollonius. "Let's to the potation. Who shall be master of the feast?"
"Dion!
