LEW WALLACE Premium Collection: Historical Novels, Poems & Plays (Illustrated). Lew Wallace
Force.
In the midst of his reverie a hand was laid upon his shoulder.
"I have a word to say, O son of Arrius," said Ilderim, stopping by his side--"a word, and then I must return, for the night is going."
"I give you welcome, sheik."
"As to the things you have heard but now," said Ilderim, almost without pause, "take in belief all save that relating to the kind of kingdom the Child will set up when he comes; as to so much keep virgin mind until you hear Simonides the merchant--a good man here in Antioch, to whom I will make you known. The Egyptian gives you coinage of his dreams which are too good for the earth; Simonides is wiser; he will ring you the sayings of your prophets, giving book and page, so you cannot deny that the Child will be King of the Jews in fact--ay, by the splendor of God! a king as Herod was, only better and far more magnificent. And then, see you, we will taste the sweetness of vengeance. I have said. Peace to you!"
"Stay--sheik!"
If Ilderim heard his call, he did not stay.
"Simonides again!" said Ben-Hur, bitterly. "Simonides here, Simonides there; from this one now, then from that! I am like to be well ridden by my father's servant, who knows at least to hold fast that which is mine; wherefore he is richer, if indeed he be not wiser, than the Egyptian. By the covenant! it is not to the faithless a man should go to find a faith to keep--and I will not. But, hark! singing--and the voice a woman's--or an angel's! It comes this way."
Down the lake towards the dower came a woman singing. Her voice floated along the hushed water melodious as a flute, and louder growing each instant. Directly the dipping of oars was heard in slow measure; a little later the words were distinguishable--words in purest Greek, best fitted of all the tongues of the day for the expression of passionate grief.
THE LAMENT (Egyptian.)
I sigh as I sing for the story land
Across the Syrian sea.
The odorous winds from the musky sand
Were breaths of life to me.
They play with the plumes of the whispering palm
For me, alas! no more;
Nor more does the Nile in the moonlit calm
Moan past the Memphian shore.
O Nilus! thou god of my fainting soul!
In dreams thou comest to me;
And, dreaming, I play with the lotus bowl,
And sing old songs to thee;
And hear from afar the Memnonian strain,
And calls from dear Simbel;
And wake to a passion of grief and pain
That e'er I said--Farewell!
At the conclusion of the song the singer was past the cluster of palms. The last word--farewell--floated past Ben-Hur weighted with all the sweet sorrow of parting. The passing of the boat was as the passing of a deeper shadow into the deeper night.
Ben-Hur drew a long breath hardly distinguishable from a sigh.
"I know her by the song--the daughter of Balthasar. How beautiful it was! And how beautiful is she!"
He recalled her large eyes curtained slightly by the drooping lids, the cheeks oval and rosy rich, the lips full and deep with dimpling in the corners, and all the grace of the tall lithe figure.
"How beautiful she is!" he repeated.
And his heart made answer by a quickening of its movement.
Then, almost the same instant, another face, younger and quite as beautiful--more childlike and tender, if not so passionate--appeared as if held up to him out of the lake.
"Esther!" he said, smiling. "As I wished, a star has been sent to me."
He turned, and passed slowly back to the tent.
His life had been crowded with griefs and with vengeful preparations--too much crowded for love. Was this the beginning of a happy change?
And if the influence went with him into the tent, whose was it? Esther had given him a cup. So had the Egyptian. And both had come to him at the same time under the palms.
Which?
Book Fifth
"Only the actions of the just
Smell sweet and blossom in the dust."
SHIRLEY.
"And, through the heat of conflict, keeps the law,
In calmness made, and sees what he foresaw."
WORDSWORTH.
Chapter I
The morning after the bacchanalia in the saloon of the palace, the divan was covered with young patricians. Maxentius might come, and the city throng to receive him; the legion might descend from Mount Sulpius in glory of arms and armor; from Nymphaeum to Omphalus there might be ceremonial splendors to shame the most notable ever before seen or heard of in the gorgeous East; yet would the many continue to sleep ignominiously on the divan where they had fallen or been carelessly tumbled by the indifferent slaves; that they would be able to take part in the reception that day was about as possible as for the lay-figures in the studio of a modern artist to rise and go bonneted and plumed through the one, two, three of a waltz.
Three hours afterwards two couriers entered his room, and from his own hand received each a despatch, sealed and in duplicate, and consisting chiefly of a letter to Valerius Gratus, the procurator, still resident in Caesarea. The importance attached to the speedy and certain delivery of the paper may be inferred. One courier was to proceed overland, the other by sea; both were to make the utmost haste.
It is of great concern now that the reader should be fully informed of the contents of the letter thus forwarded, and it is accordingly given:
"ANTIOCH, XII. Kal. Jul.
"Messala to Gratus.
"O my Midas!
"I pray thou take no offense at the address, seeing it is one of love and gratitude, and an admission that thou art most fortunate among men; seeing, also, that thy ears are as they were derived from thy mother, only proportionate to thy matured condition.
"O my Midas!
"I have to relate to thee an astonishing event, which, though as yet somewhat in the field of conjecture, will, I doubt not, justify thy instant consideration.
"Allow me first to revive thy recollection. Remember, a good many years ago, a family of a prince of Jerusalem, incredibly ancient and vastly rich--by name Ben-Hur. If thy memory have a limp or ailment of any kind, there is, if I mistake not, a wound on thy head which may help thee to a revival of the circumstance.
"Next, to arouse thy interest. In punishment of the attempt upon thy life--for dear repose of conscience, may all the gods forbid it should ever prove to have been an accident!--the family were seized and summarily disposed of, and their property confiscated. And inasmuch, O my Midas!