Deborah: A tale of the times of Judas Maccabaeus. James M. Ludlow

could not protect her. With Elkiah's death the renegade son would—as he had heard frequently in the camp—quickly "be cashed," and another estate rattle as coin in Apollonius' belt. Then what of this girl? Dion felt as if a hand from the sky was ordaining him her protector. Yet what power had he?

      Upon hearing the commotion about the litter Apollonius turned back. As if to redeem his repute for the dastardly insult of a few moments before, he now made most respectful salaam to the young woman, and, with the semblance of kindly solicitude for Glaucon, gave orders detailing Captain Dion to act as guard for the wounded man. Thus, having assumed by his manner the credit for what Dion had already done, he rejoined his suite.

      The men were about to lift the litter when Deborah startled them with the cry:

      "But Caleb! Where is the blind boy? Surely he came this way."

      "We have seen none such. He must have passed by another street. Doubtless he has gone home," was the Greek's response.

      "Oh, I must find him!"

      There was a maternal depth in the girl's tones.

      "Where could he have gone? Help me, good sir, and the blessing of the Lord will be upon you."

      "We could not find him in these streets," said Dion. "Let us go first to your home. If he is not there we will search elsewhere. And I think that my name will open any place where he may be detained."

      "Quick, then; let us haste!"

      The girl in her eagerness led the way. Reaching the house, she opened the outer door, which had not been fastened after her exit a little while before, and sped across the open court. Elkiah was calling.

      "Here am I, father!" and in an instant more she was beside him on the roof.

      "My daughter, where have you been? Have the Gentiles bewitched even my Deborah, that she should go out of doors to gaze at them? Nay, veil your face with shame, child. Henceforth you must abide strictly in the house. It may be our sepulchre, but I would rather my daughter died here, than that the same sun should greet her eyes and theirs, except that she hated them. But for a daughter of Jerusalem to so much as look upon their garments is to play the wanton."

      "Speak not such words, my father," cried Deborah, kneeling by his side, and placing his hands upon her forehead in claiming his blessing.

      "It is Benjamin, father. They have brought him back to us, and——"

      "Benjamin!" cried the old man, his voice failing in utterance until it became almost a hiss. "Benjamin! I have no son Benjamin. He has disowned his name; I disown his blood. What does the traitor Glaucon do in the house of Elkiah? Let him be gone! I charge thee, Deborah, if thou be a true daughter, banish him from our house."

      "But, father——"

      "Nay, let him be gone!"

      "But, father, Benjamin is harmed; wounded; it may be he is killed."

      The venerable man raised himself on his arm, and stared about him. Deborah laid him gently back upon the pillows.

      "Oh, father, do not curse him. It may be he will not live. Do not curse him."

      He gazed at her, taking her face between his hands and drawing it close to his.

      "Aye, my Miriam again! Would God, Deborah, you had been my son!"

      "But, father, pity our Benjamin. He is grievously hurt."

      A change passed over the features of Elkiah. Suddenly the tears dimmed his sight, and he said:

      "Benjamin hurt? My boy? The child of Miriam harmed? Where is he? Help me, that I may go to him."

      He vainly tried to rise. His hands clenched as he muttered:

      "The Lord avenge the house of Elkiah upon the heads of the heathen! The Lord spare my child! Benjamin! Benjamin! Would God I had died for thee!"

      When she had seen the wounded man brought safely into the lower chamber, Deborah quickly searched every part of the house, and her cry for Caleb rang from the roof to the court.

      "He is not here. I will go again to the street."

      The strong, but kind, hand of Dion blocked the way: "Nay, good maiden, you cannot return to the city. I will go where you could not. I swear to search the streets and camps if you will but pledge me to abide here."

      "A pledge to a Greek!"

      But the look of scorn passed quickly from her face, as she saw the solicitude in his. After a little thought, in which her agitated manner told that she could keep such a promise only with her body, and that her whole soul would go with Dion in his search, she replied:

      "It is well. I see it is my duty to stay here, sir. But hasten! Hasten, and I will pray for you every step. The Lord bless you, good sir!"

      "Your own blessing were enough," said Dion, as he ran down the steps.

      VI

       A JEWISH CUPID

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      Dion knew that a personal search for the lad among the crowds of soldiers, who were lodged in half the houses of the city, and in hundreds of tents beyond the walls, would be a long, if not a useless one, since, if any persons had captured the child, they would have reason for concealing his whereabouts. Dion went, therefore, at once to the headquarters of Apollonius, that he might obtain an order that none would dare disregard.

      The house appropriated to the Governor's use was the palace on Mount Sion. Though the finest residential structure in Jerusalem, like Elkiah's house, it was but a sorry scion of its architectural pedigree. For instead of the colonnades where Solomon once walked, and the golden roof which had sheltered the harem of that pious libertine, where now the lime whitened walls and domes of what, but for its site, might have been taken for a caravansery.

      Captain Dion passed through the court, with its broken ancient fountains and cheap reproductions of recent Greek statuary. He was greeted by Apollonius at the entrance to the hall of audience.

      "Welcome, Dion! In time to sup with me to-night. After the feast we will have a symposium that will make the dead Alexander come to life with envy. He would risk another death by fever for the sake of a draught of such wines as the King has sent me from Antioch."

      Dion excused himself, and stated the purpose of his visit.

      "Nay; so jovial and witty a comrade as yourself cannot be let off," cried the roystering commandant. "Nor need you trouble yourself about the boy. I will issue the order that he be brought here. It will be a quicker way and more certain—that is, if the circumcised dog be living, which we may doubt; for, since the permission given yesterday, the men are making short work of all this Jewish spawn."

      Dion changed his tack, and urged that he must return to take care of his friend Glaucon.

      "What care you for the traitor Glaucon?" replied the General. "If that man betrays his own race he will not be true to you. It is enough that such creatures as Glaucon are allowed to live, and keep their property, which should be our common spoil. Let him die of his hurt; we shall all be the better off, with one Jew less and houses more. But stay you shall, Dion, or, by Herakles! I will issue orders to cut the boy's throat when found. No carouse is complete if Dion be absent," he said, throwing his arm about him. "Come now, it's a treaty with you. I know that your friendship is not for Glaucon, but for the black-eyed Diana, his sister, whom I saw to-day. Drink with us you shall, or I shall be jealous as Zeus is of his Hera, and send your Jewish goddess straight to Antiochus as a gift. Go, then, get your ivy and head-grease, and come back quickly; for see, the gnomon already casts shadow of six paces—the hour the gods themselves have set for supper."

      "Then I must eat your dainty meats," said Dion, seeing