Deborah: A tale of the times of Judas Maccabaeus. James M. LudlowЧитать онлайн книгу.

      It was the twenty-fifth day of the month Chisleu, which answers to the Roman December. Ten days before, Apollonius, by order of King Antiochus, had erected in the Temple court an altar to Jupiter Olympus. This day the crowning of the blasphemy was to be perpetrated by the destruction of the ancient altar of the Jews, and the pollution of the great rock where it stood—the rock sacred in the reverence of the nation since Abraham had there bound his son Isaac for the sacrifice; the loadstone of the people during the years of captivity, toward which they prayed when they hung their harps upon the willows by the rivers of Babylon.

      Apollonius' invitation to the revellers of the previous night to be present in the Temple court, was honored by the attendance of all that company with the exception of Captain Dion. These, the Governor's guests of honor, occupied a platform near to the gate of the Holy Place, while the soldiers from barracks in the city and camps in the fields swarmed like bees, and settled in disorderly masses everywhere about the Temple mount. The overlooking walls were topped with a dense array of conical felt hats and bronze helmets, while thousands of legs, ending in the heavy cothurn—the buskin worn with gruesome propriety by both tragedians and soldiers—depended from the coping, and dangled above the heads of the crowd that stood below. Warriors from the mountains of Bithynia chaffed in unintelligible speech with those from the Euphrates, as together they clung to cornices and capitals like chattering bats. Wherever an elevation or projection offered a glimpse of the Temple plaza there was a mouth full of derision for the religion of a people that had not so much as a statue or idol to worship.

      At Apollonius' nod an enormous trumpet brayed forth the signal. Men took down the bar that blocked the gateway, where once hung the splendid doors—those which Kallisthenes had burned. A procession, such as might appropriately have had its rehearsal in Pandemonium, entered the sacred precincts. It was headed by a huge Syrian who personated the Jewish High Priest. His gigantic proportions were magnified by an enormous tub, which he wore on his head to burlesque the genuine Pontiff with his flower-shaped mitre inscribed "Holiness to the Lord." On the breast of this buffoon was a clumsy shield, painted coarsely in panels of twelve different colors, to represent the Urim and Thummim, from whose twelve mysterious jewels once flashed the will of the Lord. The pomegranates, wrought in silk upon the vestments of the real priest, and the tiny bells which interspersed them, were imitated by a string of dried gourd shells which clattered against one another as the mountebank strode along.

      Behind him came a herd of swine, prodded by soldiers clad as common priests. The mock Pontiff shouted a lewd prayer to Jehovah, and drove his short sword into the throat of a huge black boar, the signal for the slaughter of the herd. Obscene songs and shouts mingled with the death squeals of the victims, while the blasphemers, stripping bare their lower limbs, danced in the blood which drenched the sacred pavement.

      One huge sow was covered with a white blanket on which was inscribed the four letters indicating the name of the God of Israel. This beast was led to what remained of the foundation of the old altar, and there disemboweled. Her broth was scattered about the Holy of Holies, and her offal flung by the hilarious crowd into one another's faces.

      Piles of the sacred Rolls, containing the Law collected by the great scribe Ezra, were brought from their cabinets in the Temple. These were sprinkled with swine's filth and burned.

      There was then led in a band of captive Jews, mostly of the servant class, since their masters had already been disposed of. These were stripped naked amid hilarious taunts for the sign of their race. Each was forced to hold a piece of the sow's flesh in his teeth. If one allowed it to fall, he was stabbed to death and cast among the carcasses of the beasts.

      The crowd grew demented with their blasphemous sport. They demanded more and more human victims. Every Jew found in the streets was haled with insult of tongue and the prick of spear-points to the scene of butchery. The decree of the King granting immunity to certain households was of little moment. While the demonized multitude did not dare to altogether ignore the certificate of royal clemency which was affixed to the gates and lintels of a favored few, private soldiers themselves assumed to test the loyalty of the inmates.

      Elkiah's household was thus challenged. The old man was dragged to his doorway and given the alternative of worshipping Jupiter or being put to death. He took the spices which they thrust into his shaking hand, as if he purposed to drop them upon the Greek altar at the gate. A howl of disappointment rose from the crowd, who imagined that their victim was thus escaping them; but it soon changed to a wild cry of cruel gratification, for Elkiah only looked a moment upon the grains, while his lips moved in some inaudible prayer; then he flung them into the faces of his challengers:

      "The curse of Nadab and Abihu, who offered strange fire upon the altar, be upon the son of Israel who this day denies his God! The worms of hell consume you all!"

      Before he could be hindered Elkiah threw himself against the little heathen altar. It fell crashing beneath him. The next instant he was seized and thrown like the carcass of a beast across the shoulders of a gigantic Greek, who carried him to the Temple. Here he was cast into a pile of patriots, some still breathing, the most dead.

      "The old bigot is gone at last," said his bearer.

      "Then I will grease him for better frying over in Gehenna," said another, as he forced a piece of swine's fat into Elkiah's mouth.

      The insult revived the patriot. He spat out the uncleanness. Then a strange strength came into the venerable man. Before hands could grasp him he had risen to his feet. His bent form became suddenly erect with the inspiration of his passion. The crowd drew back a little as if the dead had come to life. Elkiah's voice rose to a shrill outcry, and rang above the howling of the multitude:

      "Say the heathen, 'The sacrifice shall cease on the altar of Jewry'? It shall not cease. I myself will be a sacrifice. God receive my offering!"

      He raised his clenched hands above his head and stood an instant, glaring upon the bystanders like the incarnation of a curse. Then he strode with shaking steps to the side of the old altar, and before any one could stop him threw himself upon the stones. His frame quivered an instant as if a priest's knife were indeed turning in his heart. Soldiers lifted him, and flung him back upon the pavement.

      The Jew had conquered. He had made his sacrifice to his God. Elkiah, the Nasi, the last of the Sanhedrin, was dead.

      Deborah had essayed to follow her father when his captors took him from his house. A Greek officer seized her and forced her back.

      "By all the gods of Greek and Jew, you shall not go!"

      The speaker was Dion.

      For a little her resolution seemed to yield before the imperiousness of her friend. But her spirit was as a Damascus blade which, suddenly bent, springs back into shape. With a wild cry, "I will go to my father; they shall not harm him!" she broke from Dion. His stronger arms regained her.

      "You will not be harmed if you stay here," Dion said; "but both you and your father will perish if you go. None but I can save you, Deborah. By my love I entreat."

      "Your love! your love!" There was utter contempt in her tone. "You, a hired slaughterer of our people!"

      "Nay, then by my strength you shall not go."

      He grasped her wrists. The might of her soul was imparted to her arms, and she had nearly freed herself. It required a rough grip of even the athlete's strong hands to detain her. His hard fingers deeply indented her softer flesh. Her face was contorted with pain. Dion relaxed his hold, but not enough to allow her to escape.

      So close they stood that their breaths mingled. If soul were breath, as the one Hebrew word for both signifies, it might be that their spirits touched and mingled also; for the fire slowly died from her eyes.

      "You are stronger than I," she said, with panting breath.

      "Forgive my use of force," replied Dion; "but I had to choose between offending and saving you. I have seen too many cruelties to dare to let you go from the door."

      Deborah's