Victor Serenus. Henry Wood

forget it. Thirteen years had passed, and the son of Benoni had been confirmed as a “Son of the Commandment.” He was now prepared to go up to Jerusalem for the acquirement of a deeper learning in one of the great schools of the prophets where he might become a Rabbi.

      Benoni also had two daughters, the elder of whom had married long before, and removed from Tarsus. Rebecca, the younger, was three years older than Saulus, and was known among the Greeks of the neighborhood as “the beautiful Jewess.” No brother and sister could be more devotedly attached to each other; and their interests, studies, and recreations were shared in common. They were quite unlike in nature and disposition; but, as is often the case, this seemed to strengthen their bond of affection. Each supplied what was lacking in the other. He was intense, impetuous, and unyielding, while she was placid and rarely ruffled even under great provocation. Though of recognized Jewish type in feature and form, she was faultless even from the artistic standpoint of the Greek. The artlessness and innocence which from a pure soul also shone out through her personality lent an additional charm. She usually appeared with her jet-black hair gathered in two ample braids falling gracefully behind, and interspersed near the ends with golden threads, terminating in a small ornament with pendants. A silken cap of light fabric and delicate shading rested lightly upon her head, and around her neck was a network of delicate chains intermingled with precious stones. The folds of her white loose-fitting robe were gathered by a braided scarlet girdle, ornamented with delicate pendants of pearl; and her neck and arms were but lightly covered by a gauze scarf, upon which was a scattered embroidery of golden thread. Every detail of personality and costume indicated a refinement which was genuine and graceful.

      At the close of one sultry August day, the family were seated in their usual cosey corner upon the house-top, as was their wont in warm weather. The fierce Cilician sun was just sinking behind the great brown Taurus mountains in the western horizon. The furnace-like air of the great shimmering plain to the north and west, which had been wavy with heat, was reluctantly yielding to a more endurable temperature, and the lengthening shadows gradually softened the glare of the broad landscape which stretched away beyond the city to the great mountain wall in the distant haze. The silvery current of the Cydnus, with its foliage-lined banks, could be followed by the eye, winding its zigzag way, and narrowing in the dim distance almost to a thread when traced toward its native mountain hiding-place. The purple light, which lingered about the summits of the far-away range, had a weird and foreboding look; and the great chasm in the Taurus, into which the orb of day had plunged, glowed with an unwonted and sullen obstinacy as it slowly yielded to the darkening shadows. A few heavy clouds which hung over the highest peaks were lined with a crimson glory, which, while gorgeous, seemed restless and fateful.

      If Nature was in a serious and contemplative mood, the family of Benoni was not less absorbed in revery. Silence long prevailed. All were gazing, not so much at the white roofs and gilded domes beyond the Cydnus, toward which they faced, nor upon the garden in the immediate foreground, as into the vista of the future. Eyes were looking out, but thoughts were turned within.

      What of the morrow? What of the far-reaching consequences of the movement just to begin? Kaleidoscopic visions of coming days flitted through their minds. Stillness prevailed over the city. The very atmosphere was stagnant. The household of Benoni seemed to have a prophetic foregleam of great events, but their character and detail were hidden in the impenetrable mists of the future.

      Saulus was seated beside his mother, with her arm encircling him, and her hand gently stroking his cheek. To-morrow they were to part. Rebecca was the first to break the silence. She drew herself to the other side of her brother, and taking his hand in her own, gave him a warm kiss upon his cheek.

      “Brother, dear! How can we give thee up? Our hearts fail us when we think of thy journey which begins with to-morrow’s sun.”

      “But the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob will be with thee, my son,” said the mother. “And thou wilt see the great Rabban Gamaliel,2 and be taught of him. Thou wilt bring honor upon the house of Benoni, O my Saulus!”

      She folded him in closer embrace, and stroking back his curly locks, pressed repeated kisses upon his forehead.

      “O my mother! no one will ever love me as thou dost. My life hath been thine, but I must now give it to the God of Israel—to the Chosen People. I will grow to be a leader, and help to gather them from their dispersion. I will bring to naught the counsel of the Gentiles. Thou art yielding me to the service of our people, and in due time I will render a worthy account of my doings. O my mother! I will learn wisdom of the great Rabban, and be a true son of the covenant.”

      The father aroused himself from his revery and drew nearer.

      “Son, thou hast my blessing. Thy words proclaim thy zeal for the Law. Thou wilt surely prevail! Hast thou everything prepared for the journey? The ship will set sail to-morrow at the third hour.”

      “My good mother hath helped me to make all things ready.”

      Benoni was to go up to the Holy City with his son.

      “Would there were a ship for Cæsarea that knows the God of Israel!” said the father.

      “In what ship do we set sail?”

      “My son, it is a Phœnician vessel, which is dedicated to the gods of Tyre, and it carries the sign of Castor and Pollux.”

      The mother raised her head inquiringly. “Is there not peril from pirates?”

      “Nay; the Romans have cleared the seas of them.”

      Again a long pause, and even the impulsive Saulus was sad and thoughtful. Noticing that his mother had buried her face in her hands, he gently drew them aside and gave her another kiss.

      “O my mother! dry thy tears. The days will pass speedily when I may return from the Holy City. My love for thee shall never wane.”

      The shades of evening had gathered, and anon the clear full moon appeared above the horizon, flooding the broad expanse of white roofs with a pale, misty light. The Cydnus hurried quietly past, gleaming like a stream of molten silver. By a general impulse the little group awakened from their quietude.

      Saulus turned toward his sister.

      “The river is serene. Get thy lute, and let us take the shallop, that I may feel the oars once more before my departure.”

      Hand in hand the two darted down the stone stairway, and after a hasty change of outer costume, made their way down one of the well-worn paths to the river’s bank. Unlocking the little boat-house, Saulus pushed the light shallop to the landing, and the two stepped in for an excursion. The young Israelite grasped the oars with his usual alacrity; and the scions of the house of Benoni glided out upon the stream and quickly disappeared, making their way against the broad current of the Cydnus.

      CHAPTER III

      IN THE TOILS

      “By Pallas! A bird hath flown into our net. The tempest hath driven her to shelter.”

      “A riddle for my interpretation, Marcius?”

      “Thou judgest rightly.”

      “Methinks I am already on the trail, my gallant; or art thou an impostor? Come, I am impatient! Doth the bird sing?”

      “Thou wilt find out the particulars for thyself.”

      “A truce. Solve thine own riddle, I say.”

      “Well, my gay Leander, the slaves down-stairs say that we are honored by a call—rather unceremonious, I must admit—from a beautiful young Jewess.”

      “Ha! A bird of that feather will stir the pulses.”

      “Thou sayest well. The sun warms and the breeze refreshes.”

      The Roman smiled, and his dark eyes sparkled from beneath their heavy brows.

      “A much-needed addition to our coterie, Marcius. The gods are propitious to-night.”

      “Thy discrimination is fine, my genial Greek. Variety is fitting.”

      “Fortune commands us to be hospitable.”

      “We

2

There were only seven of the Rabbis to whom the Jews gave the title of Rabban; and three of these were Gamaliels of this family, who each in turn rose to the high distinction of Nasî, or President of the School.