Stephen Part 37

Without a word Anat took from off her neck the slender chain of wrought silver, from which hung the one token that bound her to an unknown past.

Ben Hesed took it, his iron fingers trembling like those of a woman. In that simple amulet lay a strange power, for no sooner had he examined it in the fading light, than all else before his bodily eyes vanished. It was a bright morning now, and the sun was shining merrily on a caravan of strangers out of Egypt. He was trading with them, horses and sheep and cheeses of goat's milk, receiving in exchange bales of cloth and divers weapons of war, together with utensils of wrought bra.s.s and jars of pottery.

"Give me also the horse," said the chief merchant, pointing to the animal which Ben Hesed himself bestrode. "I will give thee for it a bale of scarlet and another of fine linen for thy women."

"Women of the desert do not wear scarlet nor fine linen," he answered.

"Dekar is the prince of all the herd; I will not sell."

"Nay then, I will give thee gold--fifty pieces," persisted the merchant.

"Give me an hundred," he had said, "and the beast is thine."

So the merchant gave him an hundred pieces of gold for the horse--which was truly a great price, but he paid it without murmuring for he knew that he could again sell for a greater to the king of Egypt.

Of the gold pieces there was one of strange device, and this Ben Hesed gave to his eldest-born, that she might hang it upon her necklace. The maid was beautiful to look upon, and Ben Hesed felt for her a great tenderness, which was a thing quite by itself and apart from the pride which filled his breast when he looked upon his mighty sons. The name of this maid was Zarah, which signifies the Dawn; and truly she was fair and pure as the first beams of the new day, ere yet mortals have sullied it with sin.

It came to pa.s.s--Ben Hesed saw it all once more because of the wonderful amulet which he held in his hand--that one day a stranger came to the encampment alone. He was sick and exhausted because of the hardness of his journey, and he begged of Ben Hesed that he might sojourn for a s.p.a.ce with his tribe till he should recover himself. And Ben Hesed made him welcome, as was ever his custom, and the stranger tarried many days; the women also ministered unto him, for he was both comely and young.

And when he was recovered, he came to Ben Hesed and said to him, "Behold, I have received kindness at thy hand, and the springs of life are again strong within me. Now, I pray thee, give thy servant further of thy bounty; for there is yet one thing that I would ask of thee."

And Ben Hesed said, "Speak, my son, for my hand is open to satisfy the utmost wish of him that is an honored guest within my borders."

Then the young man bowed himself and said, "If I have found favor in the sight of my lord, give to me thy daughter Zarah for my wife; for I love her with my soul."

Ben Hesed looked at the young man long and earnestly, and his heart went out to him.

"Tell me," he said, "all of thy past; for thou hast asked of me the most precious thing that I possess, the maiden who is called the Dawn. Speak freely, for as my soul liveth, if thou dost keep back aught that I should know, thou shalt die accursed!"

At this the young man groaned aloud; but he told him how that he had disputed with his brother over the inheritance, and had smitten him that he died--for so he believed at the time.

And when Ben Hesed heard all he rose up, and his voice was cold and stern. "Go," he said, "that I see thy face no more. Thinkest thou that I will give my daughter to one that is a murderer? Go, lest I fall upon thee in wrath."

And he went straightway without a word, but he found the maiden, Zarah, beside the fountain, and he told her all that had pa.s.sed. That night when all were sleeping, the two rose up and fled away from the encampment and were seen no more.

When Ben Hesed found that they were gone, he said only one word: "My daughter is dead." And from that time no one durst speak to him of the matter. But he did not forget, though long years were pa.s.sed. And now as he held the coin of strange device once more in his hand, he knew it for the token which he had given the maiden, Zarah, so long ago. And as he looked into the face of Anat, he saw that the Dawn was again risen.

Then he called the two, and he told them all the story, and when he had finished, he said, "Long ago hath the bitterness pa.s.sed from my soul; but there hath remained ever an aching wound which the years have not healed. G.o.d hath given me many wonderful mercies, but none more wonderful than this, that the children of my daughter have returned to her father's house."

Then they fell on his neck and kissed him; and all that were in the encampment rejoiced, and the rejoicing continued many days.

Afterward, by the word of messengers which Ben Hesed sent to Jerusalem, they learned that the great persecution was at an end, because that Annas was now dead, and the others of his family were too much taken up with disputing over the inheritance of lands and houses, to trouble themselves further about the religious beliefs of any man. As for Saul of Tarsus, strange tales were told of him; some said that he was dead; others that he was blind; while others still declared that he had been rebuked of the Lord in a vision, and that he now believed. But this tale was not credited of many.

"Let us return to Jerusalem," said Mary of Nazareth, "for I would fain know whether my son John be safe; then there is also the house to be looked to."

So they went back to Jerusalem for a s.p.a.ce. Ben Hesed and his grandchildren also.

But Anna and her husband went not all the way. "Jerusalem is hateful to me," said Caiaphas, "and, moreover, we should be in peril of our lives at the hand of our kindred. We will go away into Galilee, for I would fain behold all the places where the Lord lived and taught, and where also he pa.s.sed his childhood."

So the two parted from the others after that they had pa.s.sed the wilderness, and they traveled humbly as pilgrims; sojourning long in all the places where Jesus had been in his life-time; and this did they for many years, till that Caiaphas was grown to be an old man.

"I am not worthy," he said humbly, "to write of all that he taught and suffered, that should be writ by the hand of one that loved him while he yet lived; but I can gather up the tales that are told of his sinless childhood."

And so as they journeyed he made inquiry everywhere concerning the child Jesus; insomuch that after a time the children would point him out and whisper, "Yonder old man is the prophet of the Child Jesus."

And after many years he made a book of these tales, and it was called "The Gospel of the Infancy." He took great pleasure and comfort in the work, and it occupied all the closing years of his life.

"One thing only do I regret," he said to his wife many times, "and that is that I did not begin this work while the mother of our Lord yet lived; for she could have told me whether it be truly set forth; but now I shall never know."

"Thou wilt know, beloved, afterward," said Anna, her eyes shining with a wise and tender light. "For it must needs be that angels watched with awe each moment of that earth-life; be sure that it is all writ in heaven."