Christmas Light Part 4

"Yes, child, yes," said she. "We go down now into the Court of the Gentiles. Do thou and little Martha walk on ahead. Pick thy way carefully, for this flight of steps is steep."

The Court of the Gentiles was open to the men of all nations, since it was not strictly a part of the Temple. It was a sort of sacred market-place, and Naomi and little Martha, as they walked about, held tight to one another when they pa.s.sed the pens of sheep and oxen destined to be burnt offerings, and which were restlessly shouldering one another and lowing and bleating as if in some way they sensed their approaching doom. Here the seller of doves and pigeons kept his cotes, for many a worshiper could not afford to buy a kid or a lamb. Here, too, were the booths and stalls of the moneychangers who did a brisk trade, since no coin might be offered in the Temple save the sacred shekel.

"Art thou ready at last to leave the Temple, child?" asked Aunt Miriam, coming up behind Naomi as she stood gazing in at a penful of young lambs. "Wilt thou be able to tell all this to Ezra, think you?"

Naomi nodded slowly. She was not listening to what her aunt said. She was wondering why at times the sheep looked so strangely blurred, and why little black specks seemed to dance before her eyes.

"Over there is a little lamb that looks like my Three Legs, Aunt Miriam," said she. "I am glad he is not here, shut up in one of these great pens, and to die, perhaps, before another day."

She moved listlessly along, and when her aunt took her hand she clung to her so heavily that good Aunt Miriam stopped short on the side of the hill.

"What ails thee, child?" said she, bending over Naomi. "Thou art not like thyself. Thine eyes look strangely heavy, even like those of little Three Legs. Art thou ill?"

"Nay," said Naomi crossly. Surely to have sudden pains shoot through one's eyes was not to be ill. "I would see the gardens of King Herod.

That is what I want."

"The child is weary," said little Martha's mother kindly. "She has had a long journey to-day besides this visit to the Temple. The gardens of King Herod will wait for thee, Naomi, until another time when thou art rested. They will not run away."

But Naomi would not smile at this little joke. She pulled pettishly away when good friend Anna placed her hand upon her forehead to see if she were feverish.

"I would see the gardens of King Herod," she repeated plaintively, rubbing her eyes as she spoke. "Ezra saw them, with rivers and flowers and fountains. He saw doves and pigeons flying through the air. He saw a great beast that spouted water from its mouth, and I would fain see it, too."

The magnificent gardens of the King of Judea were open all day long to any one who wished to enter and enjoy their beauty, their coolness, and their shade. Ca.n.a.ls flowed between green banks, flowers bloomed and trees rustled, fountains played in the sunlight, and tiny fish darted hither and thither in the artificial pools. But there, too, bright against the green, was to be seen the white marble of statues--nymphs, and dryads, figures symbolizing grace and beauty--and for this reason, since to him all statues were idols, no Jew would set foot within King Herod's garden.

All that Naomi could hope to do, beside gazing at the three famous castles of white marble, with their battlements and turrets, built by Herod the Great, and at his own splendid palace with its ma.s.sive walls and towers, was to peep at the garden through the open gateways or perhaps from the top of the wall, as Ezra had done.

But Aunt Miriam, with st.u.r.dy common sense, had no intention of taking the weary and ailing little girl on the long trip across Cheesemonger's Valley from the Mount of the Temple to Mount Zion where the palaces stood. She beckoned to Jacob who had walked near them all the way, and when he came forward she said:

"Carry the little maid home, Jacob. She is exceedingly weary and needs a night's rest."

Naomi, without a protest, turned to Jacob and gladly hid her heavy, aching eyes upon his broad shoulder.

"I am like Three Legs," thought Naomi, as the procession moved homeward. "But then Three Legs has been sick a long, long time, and I shall be well in the morning."

CHAPTER IV

IN THE DARK

"Mother, is it sunrise yet?"

"No, Naomi, it but nears the end of the Third Watch."

"Mother, does the lamp still burn?"

"Yes, child, as always, on the table. Lie still, Naomi, and try to sleep. Thou hast a journey before thee to-day."

"Aye," said the little girl, turning restlessly on her quilt. "I know, to the Pool of Bethesda. Perhaps I shall come home with opened eyes, Mother. Perhaps I shall see when I come home to-day. Dost thou believe that the Angel of the Pool will open mine eyes?"

"Yea, child, I do believe," answered her mother earnestly. "Thou shalt see again. I hope it with all my heart."

"And then I shall help thee once more about the house," said Naomi hopefully, "and learn my lesson every day, and care for baby Jonas when thou art busy. Then I shall run and wait upon my father as of old, and he will place his hand upon my head and say, 'Naomi, thou art as quick and light upon thy feet as a young hart or doe.' That he cannot say now and speak the truth. But this very day it may be I shall have my sight again."

And with this hope to comfort her, Naomi lay quietly down upon her bed and let her thoughts go back to her last trip to Jerusalem and its sad homecoming.

She remembered the long ride in the jolting bullock cart, which Jacob guided as carefully as he knew how in order to spare Naomi's aching head and throbbing eyeb.a.l.l.s.

For the night's rest had not cured Naomi. She had awakened with swollen eyelids that were so heavy she could not hold them up, and sharp little stabs of pain had caused her to moan and twist in the arms of kind Aunt Miriam who held her tenderly on the long homeward ride.

Then came days and nights of pain, and a visit from one of the great doctors of Palestine who ordered poultices of earth mixed with the saliva of one who had been long fasting. And when Naomi could no longer bear the heavy weight of this remedy upon her tortured eyes, he kindly changed the poultice to one of owl's brains, as being not only more comfortable but a trifle quicker in its action.

At last the day arrived when Naomi was free from pain, but when also, alas! as she raised her head weakly and looked about, she did not see the familiar room with its carved chest and gay cushions and little table pushed against the wall, she did not see the loving anxious faces of her father and mother and Ezra, but only a black curtain dotted with blacker stars that danced and winked and danced again.

"I cannot see thee! Where art thou, Mother? Is it night? How black it is! Oh, am I blind?"

And Naomi clung fast to her father and mother as if they must save her from this dreadful fate.

"Blind!" thought her mother, remembering with a shudder the numberless figures that stretched pitiful hands by the Bethlehem roadside. "My little Naomi, blind?"

"An amulet will cure her," said worried Samuel stoutly. "Be not downhearted, my little maid. Thy father will buy for thee an amulet that will open those brown eyes of thine wider than ever before."

So Naomi wore about her neck for weeks a small three-cornered bag, in which was sewn a sc.r.a.p of parchment taken from a religious book, written after certain rules and with a diagram so mysterious that not even Samuel could understand it.

And how were the contents of this little three-cornered bag to restore Naomi's eyesight? Why, by charming away the wicked spirit who had cast an evil eye upon her. Or perhaps Naomi had chanced to rub her eyes upon waking before she had washed her hands. Being unclean, the devil present had slipped from her fingers into her eyes, and now must be charmed out again by the holy words about her neck.

Not a thought that Naomi, daily handling sick little Three Legs, might have caught the malady that first darkened the vision of the poor little animal, and then caused the frail life to flicker out altogether.

Naomi missed her pet sorely, but its death was only one more grief added to the burden that overshadowed all her days.

She could no longer play in the garden. Her well, begun so happily, was neglected, though not forgotten, and little Jonas was the leader now, guiding her faltering steps with such good-will that Naomi forgave him when he led her straight into the orange-tree or neglected to warn her that the myrtle bush was in her path.

Her friends Rachel and Rebekah had deserted her, for at the first mention of the evil eye they had looked askance, and now they never came to play nor to entertain her with their talk.

Little lame Enoch proved a faithful friend, and Naomi felt comfortable with him as a playmate, for he, too, suffered from a handicap and yet was cheerful and gay notwithstanding. He knew a host of stories told him by his old grandmother, and the long hours slipped away quickly while their little tongues chattered, though their hands and feet were pathetically still.

But of all the comfort Naomi knew, apart from the love of her father and mother, the companionship of Ezra was the greatest. He amused her, he waited upon her, he revived her drooping spirits with his own high hopes and plans for her.

"Thou shalt see again, Naomi," he would declare confidently. "All the cures have not been tried yet. Thou art _not_ like the beggars by the roadside. Say not that again, or I will dip thee some day in the well behind the myrtle bush that thou wilt be digging ere long. Most of the wayside beggars are old men with not an eyeball left, whilst thou, Naomi, art young, and thine eyes from without look as clear and strong as mine. Wait until my father has taken thee to the Pool of Bethesda!

Have patience, Naomi! Thou shalt see again!"

The Bethesda Pool lay in Jerusalem on the Temple mount, a stone's throw from the Sheep Gate of the Court of the Gentiles, where Naomi had lingered before the sheep-pens on the afternoon that now seemed so far away.

Perhaps in these days we should say that the great pool contained a mineral spring, but in Naomi's time it was not doubted that an angel had wrought the cures that were told far and wide of this "well of healing."

About it were always cl.u.s.tered the sick, the lame, the halt, and the blind, in the belief that when the angel troubled the waters the first to dip himself therein would be healed.