“What does she mean?” he asked Miriam, but in the voice of one who speaks to himself.
“She thinks that you shot at a man, not at a beast,” replied Miriam; “but I know well that you could not have done this, since that would be against the rule of the Essenes.”
“Even the rule of the Essenes permits a man to protect himself and his property from thieves,” he answered sulkily.
“Yes, to protect himself if he is attacked, and his property—if he has any. But neither that faith nor mine permits him to avenge a blow.”
“I was one against many,” he answered boldly. “My life was on the hazard: it was no coward’s act.”
“Were there, then, a troop of these hyenas?” asked Miriam, innocently. “I thought you said it was a solitary beast that took the sheep.”
“It was a whole company of beasts who took the wine, and smote those in charge of it as though they were street dogs.”
“Hyenas that took wine like the tame ape whom the boys make drunken over yonder——”
“Why do you mock me,” broke in Caleb, “who must know the truth? Or if you do not know it, here it is. That thief beat me with his staff, and called me the son of a dog, and I swore that I would pay him back. Pay him back I did, for the head of that shaft which Nehushta noted, stands out a span beyond his neck. They never saw who shot it; they never saw me at all, who thought at first that the man had fallen from his horse. By the time they knew the truth I was away where they could not follow. Now go and tell the story if you will, or let Nehushta, who hates me, tell it, and give me over to be tortured by the servants of the high priest, or crucified as a murderer by the Romans.”
“Neither Nehushta nor I saw this deed done, nor shall we bear witness against you, Caleb, or judge you, who doubtless were provoked by violent and lawless men. Yet, Caleb, you told me that you came out to warn us, and it grieves me to learn that the true wish of your heart was to take the life of a man.”
“It is false,” he answered angrily; “I said that I came to warn you, and afterwards to kill a hyena. To make you safe—that was my first thought, and until you were safe my enemy was safe also. Miriam, you know it well.”
“Why should I know it? To you, Caleb, I think revenge is more than friendship.”
“Perhaps; for I have few friends who am a penniless orphan brought up by charity. But, Miriam, to me revenge is not more than—love.”
“Love,” she stammered, turning crimson to her hair and stepping back a pace; “what do you mean, Caleb?”
“What I say, neither more nor less,” he answered sullenly. “As I have worked one crime to-day, I may as well work two, and dare to tell the lady Miriam, the Queen of the Essenes, that I love her, though she loves not me—as yet.”
“This is madness,” faltered Miriam.
“Mayhap, but it is a madness which began when first I saw you—that was soon after we learned to speak—a madness which will continue until I cease to see you, and that shall be soon before I grow silent forever. Listen, Miriam, and do not think my words only those of a foolish boy, for all my life shall prove them. This love of mine is a thing with which you must reckon. You love me not—therefore, even had I the power, I would not force myself upon you against your will; only I warn you, learn to love no other man, for then it shall go ill either with him or with me. By this I swear it,” and, snatching her to him, Caleb kissed her on the forehead, then let her go, saying, “Fear not. It is the first and last time, except by your own will. Or if you fear, tell the story to the Court of the Essenes, and—to Nehushta, who will right your wrongs.”
“Caleb,” she gasped, stamping her foot upon the ground in anger, “Caleb, you are more wicked than I dreamed, and,” she added, as though to herself—“and greater!”
“Yes,” he answered, as he turned to go, “I think that you are right. I am more wicked than you dreamed and—greater. Also, Miriam, I love you as you will never be loved again. Farewell!”
CHAPTER VII
MARCUS
That night those of the curators who were engaged in prayer and fasting were disturbed by the return of an officer of those Jews that had robbed them, who complained violently that a man of his company had been murdered by one of the Essenes. They asked how and when, and were told that the man had been shot down with an arrow, in a gully upon the road to Jericho, by a person unknown. They replied that robbers sometimes met with robbers, and asked to see the arrow, which proved to be of a Roman make, such as these men carried in their own quivers. This the Essenes pointed out, and at length, growing angry at the unreasonableness of a complaint made by persons of the worst character, drove him and his escort from their doors, bidding them take their story to the high priest Ananos, with the goods which they had stolen, or, if they preferred it, to that still greater thief, the Roman procurator, Albinus.
This they did not neglect to do, with the result that presently the Essenes were commanded to send some of their head men to appear before Albinus to answer the charges laid against them. Accordingly they dispatched Ithiel and two others, who were kept waiting three months at Jerusalem before they could even obtain a hearing. At length the cause came on, and after some few minutes of talk was adjourned, being but a petty matter. That same evening Ithiel was informed by an intermediary that if his Order would pay a certain large sum of money to Albinus, nothing more would be heard of the question. This the Essenes refused to do, as it was against their principles, saying that they demanded nothing but justice, which they were not prepared to buy. So they spoke, being ignorant that one of their neophytes, Caleb, had in fact aimed the fatal arrow.
Then Albinus, wearying of the business and finding that there was no profit to be made out of the Essenes, commanded them to be gone, saying that he would send an officer to make inquiry on the spot.
Another two months went by, and at length this officer arrived, attended by an escort of twenty soldiers.
As it chanced, on a certain morning in the winter season, Miriam with Nehushta was walking on the Jericho road, when suddenly they saw approaching towards them this little body of armed men. Perceiving that they were Romans, they turned out of the path to hide themselves among the thorns of the desert. Thereon he who seemed to be the officer spurred his horse forward to intercept them.
“Do not run—stand still,” said Nehushta to Miriam, “and show no sign of fear.”
So Miriam halted and began to gather a few autumn flowers that still bloomed among the bushes, till the shadow of the officer fell upon her—that shadow in which she was destined to walk all her life-days.
“Lady,” said a pleasant voice in Greek, spoken with a somewhat foreign accent—“lady, pardon, and I pray you, do not be alarmed. I am a stranger to this part of the country, which I visit on official business. Will you of your kindness direct me to the village of a people called Essenes, who live somewhere in this desert?”
“Oh, sir!” answered Miriam, “do you, who come with Roman soldiers, mean them any harm?”
“Not I. But why do you ask?”
“Because, sir, I am of their community.”
The officer stared at her—this beautiful, blue-eyed, white-skinned, delicate-featured girl, whose high blood proclaimed itself in every tone and gesture.
“You, lady, of the community of