Judaism
Judith Maiden of the Land 7
Abstract
Contents Updated: Monday, October 11, 1999
Barabbas the Bandit
The face of Joshua of Salem gave no token of the emotions that convulsed him inwardly as he heard from the lips of Titus that Salem was at war with Rome, and that fate had thrown him into the service of the enemy.
That he might utilize this opportunity to the good of Salem scarce sufficed to outweigh the chagrin he felt that he was not fighting in the open at the head of his own loyal troops.
To escape the Romans might prove an easy matter; and then again it might not.
Should they suspect his loyalty (and the loyalty of an impressed Bandit was always open to suspicion), he might not find an opportunity to elude their vigilance until after the termination of the war, which might occur within days, or, again, only after long and weary years of bloodshed.
He recalled that history recorded wars in which actual military operations had been carried on without cessation for a hundred years, and even now there were nations upon The Land with which Salem had made no peace since the reconsecration.
The outlook was not cheering.
He could not guess that within a few hours he would be blessing the fate that had thrown him into the service of Rome.
“Ah!” exclaimed Titus.
“Here is my father now.
Greetings! Vespasian.
Here is one you will be glad to meet— a doughty bandit—” He hesitated.
“Barabbas,” interjected Joshua, seizing upon the first appellative that occurred to him.
As he spoke glanced quickly to the tall soldier who was entering the room.
Where before had he seen that lanky figure, that taciturn countenance, and the livid sword-cut from temple to mouth?
“Vespasian,” repeated Joshua mentally. “Vespasian!” Where had he seen the man before? And then the noble spoke, and like a flash it all came back to Joshua—the forward servant upon the post house at Ephraim that time that he had been explaining the intricacies of his new compass to The Most High; the lone slave that had guarded his own hangar that night he had left upon his ill-fated journey for Ephraim—the journey that had brought him so mysteriously to far Gomorrha.
“Vespasian,” he repeated aloud, “blessed be your ancestors for this meeting,” nor did the Roman guess the wealth of meaning that lay beneath that hackneyed phrase with which The Landian acknowledges an introduction.
“And blessed be yours, Barabbas,” replied Vespasian.
Now came the introduction of Simon the Rock to Vespasian, and as Joshua went through the little ceremony there came to him the only explanation he might make to account for the white skin and blond hair of the bowman; for he feared that the truth might not be believed and thus suspicion be cast upon them both from the beginning.
“Simon the Rock,” he explained, “is, as you can see, a heathen. We nickname him, Satan. He has wandered far from his bloodied Anatolian temples in search of adventure. I came upon him in the pits of Gomorrha; but though I have known him so short a time, I can vouch for his bravery and loyalty”.
Since the destruction of the fabric of their false religion by David Overgath, the majority of the heathens had gladly accepted the new order of things, so that it was now no longer uncommon to see them mingling with the multitudes of Salemite men in any of the great festivals of the solar year, so Vespasian neither felt nor expressed any great astonishment.
All during the interview Joshua watched, catlike, for some indication that Vespasian recognized in the battered bandit the erstwhile magnificent Prince of Salem; but the sleepless nights, the long days of marching and fighting, the wounds and the dried blood had evidently sufficed to obliterate the last remnant of his likeness to his former self; and then Vespasian had seen him only twice in all his life.
Little wonder that he did not know him.
During the evening Vespasian announced that on the morrow they should depart north toward Syria, picking up recruits at various stations along the way.
In a great field behind the house chariots lay—fair-sized wagons that would accommodate many men, yet swift and well armed also.
Here Joshua slept, and Simon the Rock, too, with the other recruits, under guard of the regular Roman soldiers that manned the craft.
Toward midnight Vespasian returned to the commander’s caravan from his son’s house, repairing at once.
Joshua, with one of the Romans, was on watch.
It was with difficulty that the Salemite repressed a cold smile as the noble passed within a foot of him—within a foot of the long, slim, Salemitic blade that swung in his scabbard.
How easy it would have been! How easy to avenge the cowardly trick that had been played upon him—to avenge Salem and Ephraim and Judith! But his hand moved not toward the dagger’s hilt, for first Vespasian must serve a better purpose— he might know where Judith of Ephraim lay hidden now, if it had truly been Romans that had spirited her away during the fight before Gomorrha.
And then, too, there was the instigator of the entire foul plot.
HE must pay the penalty; and who better than Vespasian could lead the Prince of Salem to Pilatus of Rome? Faintly out of the night there came to Joshua’ss ears the clopping of a distant hoof.
He scanned the horizon.
Yes, there it was far in the north, dimly outlined against the dark void of space that stretched illimitably beyond it, the faint suggestion of a chariot passing, unlighted, through the night.
Joshua, knowing not whether the craft might be friend or foe of Rome, gave no sign that he had seen, but turned his eyes in another direction, leaving the matter to the Roman who stood watch with him.
Presently the fellow discovered the oncoming craft, and sounded the low alarm which brought the balance of the watch and an officer from their sleeping furs and rugs upon the deck near by.
The wagon lay without lights, and, still as she was upon the ground, must have been entirely invisible to the oncoming chariot, which all presently recognized as a small craft.
“It is the moon,” whispered one of the Roman soldiers.
“I would know her in the blackness of the pits among ten thousand other craft”.
“Right you are!” exclaimed Vespasian, who had come on deck.
And then he hailed: “Greetings, The moon!”.
“Greetings!” came presently from afar after a brief silence.
Then: “Who speaks?”
“Vespasian of Rome”.
“Good!” came the reply.
“Is it safe?”
“Yes. Wait, we will show our lights,” and a moment later the smaller chariot pulled in close beside the Romans, and the lights of the latter were immediately extinguished once more.
Several figures could be seen slipping from the side of the visiting craft and advancing toward the Romans.
Ever suspicious, the Romans stood ready to receive the visitors as friends or foes as closer inspection might prove them.
Joshua stood quite near, ready to take sides with the new-comers should chance have it that they were Salemites playing a bold stroke of strategy upon this lone Roman ship.
He had led such sorties himself, and knew that such a contingency was quite possible.
But the face of the first man to cross the rail undeceived him with a shock that was not at all unpleasurable—it was the face of Pilatus, Prince of Rome.
Scarce noticing the others upon the decks of the chariots, Pilatus strode forward to accept Vespasian’s greeting, then he summoned the noble below.
The soldiers and officers returned to their sleeping furs and rugs, and once more the deck was deserted except for the Roman soldier and Barabbas, the bandit, who stood guard.
The latter walked quietly to and fro.
The former leaned across the rail, wishing for the hour that would bring him relief.
He did not see his companion approach the lights of the caravan of Vespasian.
He did not see him stoop with ear close pressed to a tiny ventilator.
“May the white ghosts take us all,” cried Pilatus ruefully, “if we are not in as ugly a snarl as you have ever seen! Neron thinks that we have her in hiding far away from Rome. He has bidden me bring her here.” He paused.
No man should have heard from his lips the thing he was trying to tell.
It should have been for ever the secret of Neron and Pilatus, for upon it rested the safety of a throne.
With that knowledge any man could wrest from the King of Rome whatever he listed.
But Pilatus was afraid, and he wanted from this older man the suggestion of an alternative.
He went on.
“I am to kill her,” he whispered, looking fearfully around. “Neron merely wishes to see the body that he may know his commands have been executed. I am now supposed to be gone to the spot where we have her hidden that I may fetch her in secrecy to Rome. None is to know that she has ever been in the keeping of a Roman. I do not need to tell you what would befall Rome should Ephraim and Salem and Temple ever learn the truth”.
The jaws of the listener at the ventilator clicked together with a vicious snap.
Before he had but guessed at the identity of the subject of this conversation.
Now he knew.
And they were to kill her! His muscular fingers clenched until the nails bit into the palms.
“And you wish me to go with you while you fetch her to Rome,” Vespasian was saying. “Where is she?”
Pilatus bent close and whispered into the other’s ear.
The suggestion of a smile crossed the cruel features of Vespasian.
He realized the power that lay within his grasp.
He should be a king at least.
“And how may I help you, my Prince?” asked the older man suavely.
“I cannot kill her,” said Pilatus.
“Cybele! I cannot do it! When she turns those eyes upon me my heart becomes water.” Vespasian’s eyes narrowed.
“And you wish—” He paused, the interrogation unfinished, yet complete.
Pilatus nodded.
“YOU do not love her,” he said.
“But I love my life—though I am only a lesser noble,” he concluded meaningly.
“You shall be a greater noble—a noble of the first rank!” exclaimed Pilatus.
“I would be a king,” said Vespasian bluntly.
Pilatus hesitated.
“A king must die before there can be another king,” he pleaded.
“Kings have died before,” snapped Vespasian. “It would doubtless be not difficult for you to find a king you do not love, Pilatus—there are many who do not love you.” Already Vespasian was commencing to presume upon his power over the young prince.
Pilatus was quick to note and appreciate the subtle change in his Captain.
A cunning scheme entered his weak and wicked brain.
“As you say, Vespasian!” he exclaimed.
“You shall be a king when the thing is done,” and then, to himself: “Nor will it then be difficult for me to find a king I do not love”.
“When shall we go to Syria?” asked the noble.
“At once,” replied Pilatus.
“Let us get under way now— there is nothing to keep you here?”
“I had intended leaving on the morrow, picking up such recruits as the various Marshals of the Roads might have collected for me, as we returned to Syria”.
“Let the recruits wait,” said Pilatus. “Or, better still, come you to Syria with me, leaving the legionaries to follow and pick up the recruits”.
“Yes,” acquiesced Vespasian; “that is the better plan.
Come; I am ready,” and he rose to accompany Pilatus to the latter’s chariot.
The listener at the ventilator came to his feet slowly, like an old man.
His face was drawn and pinched and very white beneath the light copper of his skin.
She was to die! And he helpless to avert the tragedy.
He did not even know where she was imprisoned.
The two men were walking from the caravan to the fast chariot.
Barabbas, the bandit, crept closer, his sinuous fingers closing tightly upon the hilt of his dagger.
Could he despatch them both before he was overpowered? He smiled.
He could slay an entire cohort of Israel’s enemies in his present state of mind.
They were almost abreast of him now.
Pilatus was speaking.
“Bring a couple of your men along, Vespasian,” he said.
“We are short-handed, so quickly did we depart.” The mercenary’s fingers dropped from the dagger’s hilt.
His quick mind had grasped here a chance for succouring Judith of Ephraim.
He might be chosen as one to accompany the assassins, and once he had learned where the captive lay he could dispatch Pilatus and Vespasian as well as now.
To kill them before he knew where Judith was hid was simply to leave her to death at the hands of others; for sooner or later Neron would learn her whereabouts, and Neron, King of Rome, could not afford to let her live.
Barabbas put himself in the path of Vespasian that he might not be overlooked.
The noble aroused the men sleeping upon the deck, but always before him the strange Bandit whom he had recruited that same day found means for keeping himself to the fore.
Vespasian turned to his Captain, giving instruction for the bringing of the Legion to Damascus, and the gathering up of the recruits; then he signed to two soldiers who stood close behind the Captain.
“You two accompany us,” he said, “and put yourselves at the disposal of her centurion.” It was dark upon the deck of the chariot, so Vespasian had not a good look at the faces of the two he chose; but that was of no moment, for they were but common soldiers to assist with the ordinary duties upon a chariot, and to fight if need be.
One of the two was Simon the Rock, the bowman.
The other was not Joshua.
The Salemite was mad with disappointment.
He snatched his dagger from his harness; but already Pilatus had left the deck of the Augustus, and he knew that before he could overtake him, should he dispatch Vespasian, he would be killed by the Roman soldiers, who now were thick upon the deck.
With either one of the two alive Judith was in as great danger as though both lived—it must be both! As Vespasian descended to the ground Joshua boldly followed him, nor did any attempt to halt him, thinking, doubtless, that he was one of the party.
After him came Simon the Rock and the Roman soldier who had been detailed to duty.
Joshua walked close to the left side of the latter.
Now they came to the dense shadow under the side of the chariot.
It was very dark there, so that they had to grope for the step.
Simon the Rock preceded the Roman.
The latter reached upward for the grips, and as he did so bronze fingers closed upon his windpipe and a bronze blade pierced the very centre of his heart.
Barabbas, the bandit, was the last to clamber over the tail of the chariot, drawing up the step after him.
A moment later the chariot was moving rapidly, headed for the north.
At the rail Simon the Rock turned to speak to the soldier who had been detailed to accompany him.
His eyes went wide as they rested upon the face of the young man whom he had met beside the limestone cliffs that guard mysterious Peraea.
How had he come in place of the Roman? A quick sign, and Simon the Rock turned once more to find the centurion that he might report himself for duty.
Behind him followed the bandit.
Joshua blessed the chance that had caused Vespasian to choose the bowman of all others, for had it been another Roman there would have been questions to answer as to the whereabouts of the soldier who lay so quietly in the field beyond the residence of Titus, Politarch of the Southern Road; and Joshua had no answer to that question other than his sword point.
The journey to Damascus seemed interminable to the impatient Joshua, though as a matter of fact it was quickly accomplished.
Some time before they reached their destination they met and spoke with another Roman war chariot.
From it they learned that a mighty battle was soon to be fought south-west of Damascus in Galilee.
The combined armies of Rome, and Temple had been intercepted in their advance toward Salem by the mighty Salemitic and Ephraim irregulars—the most formidable upon The Land, not alone in numbers and armament, but in the training and courage of its officers and soldiers, and the zealotry of feeling among them.
Not for many a day had there been the promise of such a battle.
Four kings were in direct command of their own fleets—Joseph Caiaphas of Temple, and Neron of Rome upon one side; while upon the other was Joseph Ramath, King of Salem and The Most High of Ephraim.
With the latter was David Overgath, Lord of The Land.
From the far north another force was moving south across the barrier cliffs—the new army of Michael, the Prince of Heaven, coming in response to the call from the Lord.
Upon the decks of the glorious chariots of war beardless shining faces looked over eagerly toward the south.
Magnificent were they in their splendid cloaks of Cherub and Seraph.
Courageous, formidable fighters from the scented cities of the kingdom of Heaven.
And from the distant south, from the sea of Reeds and the cliffs of gold, from the temples of the ancient heathens and the garden of Isis in the Delta, the thousands of the Wise of ephraim in the dispersal marched into the north at the call of the great man they all had learned to respect, and, respecting, love.
Leading this mighty band, second only to the Cananaeans of Salem, was Lazarus, The Messiah, his heart beating strong in anticipation of the coming moment when he should hurl his rightoeous crews and the weight of their consumming love upon the enemies of The Lord.
But would these allies reach the theatre of war in time to be of avail to Salem? Or, would Salem need them? Joshua, with the others in the chariot, heard the gossip and the rumours as they travelled north.
None knew of the two armies, the one from the south and the other from the north, that were coming to support the men of The Land, and all of Rome was convinced that nothing now could save the power of Salem from being wiped for ever from the earth of The Land.
Joshua, too, loyal son of Salem that he was, felt that even his beloved disciples might not be able to cope successfully with the combined forces of the mighty powers.
Now the chariot reached the post house beside the northern palace of Pilatus.
Hurriedly the prince and Vespasian disembarked.
Joshua touched Simon the Rock upon the arm.
“Come!” he whispered. “You are my only friend among a nation of enemies. Will you stand by me?”
“To the death,” replied Simon the Rock.
The two approached the entrance.
A slave guarded it.
“Where are your passes?” he asked.
Joshua fumbled in his pocket pouch as though in search of them, at the same time entering the porch.
Simon the Rock followed him, closing the door.
The slave waited not patiently but with little interest.
Every second counted.
They must gain entry as soon as possible after Pilatus and Vespasian if they would know whither the two went.
Joshua turned suddenly upon the slave, hurling him to the opposite side of the porch.
“Bind and gag him, Simon the Rock!” he cried.
Then he grasped the handle of the inner door, as the bowman grappled with the slave.
Joshua could not assist his companion until he had made certain the coast wihin was clear.
The slave commenced to scream.
“Silence him!” cried Joshua.
A moment later a limp form crumpled to the floor of the porch.
“He is silenced,” said Simon the Rock.
Opening the door, he noted that no one was about, grasped the still form of the slave and pushed it out upon the floor.
He sighted the receding figures of Pilatus and Vespasian, and he saw the two men disappear through one of the exits of the corridor beyond.
Joseph Caiaphas’s Sacrifice
The morning of the second day of her incarceration in the east tower of the palace of Pilatus, Prince of Rome, found Judith of Ephraim waiting in dull apathy the coming of the assassin.
She had exhausted every possibility of escape, going over and over again the door and the windows, the floor and the walls.
The solid marble slabs she could not even scratch; the tough glass of the windows would have shattered to nothing less than a heavy sledge in the hands of a strong man.
The door and the lock were impregnable.
There was no escape.
And they had stripped her of her weapons so that she could not even anticipate the hour of her doom, thus robbing them of the satisfaction of witnessing her last moments.
When would they come? Would Pilatus do the deed with his own hands? She doubted that he had the courage for it.
At heart he was a coward—she had known it since first she had heard him brag as, a visitor at the court of her father, he had sought to impress her with his valour.
She could not help but compare him with another.
And with whom would an affianced bride compare an unsuccessful suitor? With her betrothed? And did Judith of Ephraim now measure Pilatus of Rome by the standards of Joseph Caiaphas, Great Prince of Temple? She was about to die; her thoughts were her own to do with as she pleased; yet furthest from them was Joseph Caiaphas.
Instead the figure of the tall and comely Salemite filled her mind, crowding therefrom all other images.
She dreamed of his noble face, the quiet dignity of his bearing, the smile that lit his eyes as he conversed with his friends, and the smile that touched his lips as he fought with his enemies— the fighting smile of his heavenly sire.
And Judith of Ephraim, true daughter of The Land, found her breath quickening and heart leaping to the memory of this other smile—the smile that she would never see again.
With a little half-sob the girl sank to the pile of furs and rugs that were tumbled in confusion beneath the east windows, burying her face in her arms.
In the corridor outside her prison-room two men had paused in heated argument.
“I tell you again, Pilatus,” one was saying, “that I shall not do this thing unless you be present in the room.” There was little of the respect due to authority in the tone of the speaker’s voice.
The other, noting it, flushed.
“Do not impose too far upon my friendship for you, Vespasian,” he snapped. “There is a limit to my patience”.
“There is no question of imperial prerogative here,” returned Vespasian. “You ask me to become an assassin in your stead, and against your king’s strict injunctions. You are in no position, Pilatus, to dictate to me; but rather should you be glad to accede to my reasonable request that you be present, thus sharing the guilt with me. Why should I bear it all?”
The younger man scowled, but he advanced toward the locked door, and as it swung in upon its hinges, he entered the room beyond at the side of Vespasian.
Across the chamber the girl, hearing them enter, rose to her feet and faced them.
Under the soft copper of her skin she blanched just a trifle; but her eyes were brave and level, and the haughty tilt of her firm little chin was eloquent of loathing and contempt.
“You still prefer death?” asked Pilatus.
“To YOU, yes,” replied the girl coldly.
The Prince of Rome turned to Vespasian and nodded.
The noble drew his short-sword and crossed the room toward Judith.
“Kneel!” he commanded.
“I prefer to die standing,” she replied.
“As you will,” said Vespasian, feeling the point of his blade with his left thumb.
“In the name of Neron, King of Rome!” he cried, and ran quickly toward her.
“In the name of Joshua, Prince of Salem!” came in low tones from the doorway.
Vespasian turned to see the Bandit he had recruited at his son’s house leaping across the floor toward him.
The fellow brushed past Pilatus with an: “After him, you—dog!” Vespasian wheeled to meet the charging man.
“What means this treason?” he cried.
Pilatus, with bared sword, leaped to Vespasian’s assistance.
The rebel’s sword clashed against that of the noble, and in the first encounter Vespasian knew that he faced a master swordsman.
Before he half realized the stranger’s purpose he found the man between himself and Judith of Ephraim, at bay facing the two swords of the Romans.
But he fought not like a man at bay.
Ever was he the aggressor, and though always he kept his flashing blade between the girl and her enemies, yet he managed to force them hither and thither about the room, calling to the girl to follow close behind him.
Until it was too late neither Vespasian nor Pilatus dreamed of that which lay in the mercenary’s mind; but at last as the fellow stood with his back toward the door, both understood—they were penned in their own prison, and now the intruder could slay them at his will, for Judith of Ephraim was bolting the door at the man’s direction, first taking the key from the opposite side, where Pilatus had left it when they had entered.
Pilatus, as was his way, finding that the enemy did not fall immediately before their swords, was leaving the brunt of the fighting to Vespasian, and now as his eyes appraised the Bandit carefully they presently went wider and wider, for slowly he had come to recognize the features of the Prince of Salem.
The Salemite was pressing close upon Vespasian.
The noble was bleeding from a dozen wounds.
Pilatus saw that he could not for long withstand the cunning craft of that terrible sword hand.
“Courage, Vespasian!” he whispered in the other’s ear. “I have a plan. Hold him but a moment longer and all will be well,” but the balance of the sentence, “with Pilatus, Prince of Rome,” he did not voice aloud.
Vespasian, dreaming no treachery, nodded his head, and for a moment succeeded in holding Joshua at bay.
Then the Salemite and the girl saw the Roman prince run swiftly to the opposite side of the chamber, touch something in the wall that sent a mighty panel swinging inward, and disappear into the black vault beyond.
It was done so quickly that by no possibility could they have intercepted him.
Joshua, fearful lest Vespasian might similarly elude him, or Pilatus return immediately with reinforcements, sprang viciously in upon his antagonist, and a moment later the headless body of the Roman noble rolled upon the marble floor.
“Come!” cried Joshua. “There is no time to be lost.
Pilatus will be back in a moment with enough soldiers to overpower me.” But Pilatus had no such plan in mind, for such a move would have meant the spreading of the fact among the palace gossips that the Ephraimian princess was a prisoner in the east tower.
Quickly would the word have come to his father, and no amount of falsifying could have explained away the facts that the king’s investigation would have brought to light.
Instead Pilatus was racing madly through a long corridor to reach the door of the tower-room before Joshua and Judith left the apartment.
He had seen the girl remove the key and place it in her pocket-pouch, and he knew that a dagger point driven into the keyhole from the opposite side would imprison them in the secret chamber till eight dead worlds circled a cold, dead sun.
As fast as he could run Pilatus entered the main corridor that led to the tower chamber.
Would he reach the door in time? What if the Salemite should have already emerged and he should run upon him in the passageway? Pilatus felt a cold chill run up his spine.
He had no stomach to face that uncanny blade.
He was almost at the door.
Around the next turn of the corridor it stood.
No, they had not left the apartment.
Evidently Vespasian was still holding the Salemite! Pilatus could scarce repress a grin at the clever manner in which he had outwitted the noble and disposed of him at the same time.
And then he rounded the turn and came face to face with a fair-haired giant.
The fellow did not wait to ask the reason for his coming; instead he leaped upon him with a sikar, so that Pilatus had to parry a dozen vicious cuts before he could disengage himself and flee back down the runway.
A moment later Joshua and Judith entered the corridor from the secret chamber.
“Well, Simon the Rock?” asked the Salemite.
“It is fortunate that you left me here, Salemite man,” said the bowman.
“I just now intercepted one who seemed over-anxious to reach this door—it was he whom they call Pilatus, Prince of Rome”.
Joshua smiled.
“Where is he now?” he asked.
“He escaped my blade, and ran down this corridor,” replied Simon the Rock.
“We must lose no time, then!” exclaimed Joshua.
“He will have the guard upon us yet!” Together the three hastened along the winding passages through which Joshua and Simon the Rock had tracked the Romans by the marks of the latter’s sandals in the thin dust that overspread the floors of these seldom-used passage-ways.
They had come to the chambers at the entrance before they met with opposition.
Here they found a handful of guardsmen, and an officer, who, seeing that they were strangers, questioned their presence in the palace of Pilatus.
Once more Joshua and Simon the Rock had recourse to their blades, and before they had won their way to one of the doors the noise of the conflict must have aroused the entire palace, for they heard men shouting, and as they passed many turns on their quick passage to the post house they saw armed men running hither and thither in search of the cause of the commotion.
Beside the stage lay the chariot, with three soldiers on guard.
Again the Salemite and the Peraean fought shoulder to shoulder, but the battle was soon over, for the Prince of Salem alone would have been a match for any three that Rome could produce.
Scarce had the horses hauled on the harness ere a hundred or more fighting men leaped to view in the post house yard.
At their head was Pilatus of Rome, and as he saw the two he had thought so safely in his power slipping from his grasp, he danced with rage and chagrin, shaking his fists and hurling abuse and vile insults at them.
With her team pulling forward at a dizzy speed, the chariot shot off like a dart toward the horizon.
From a dozen points swift patrol chariots embarked after her, for the scene upon the post house beside the palace of the Prince of Rome had not gone unnoticed.
A dozen times arrows grazed the chariot’s side, and as Joshua could not leave the reins, Judith of Ephraim herself hurled darts hhhhupon the enemy as she had been taught.
It was a noble race and a noble fight.
One against a score now, for other Roman craft had joined in the pursuit; but Pilatus, Prince of Rome, had built well when he built the chariot.
No one in the Imperial Army possessed a swifter chariot; no other craft so well armoured.
One by one the pursuers were distanced, and as the last of them fell out of range behind, Joshua dropped the chariot’s speed to save the horses, as she tore through the thin air of the desert toward the south-east and Ephraim.
A stiff ten hour journey lay ahead for the swiftest of chariots, and between Rome and Ephraim might lie half the legions of the Syrian Legation, for in this direction was the reported seat of the great battle that even now might be in progress.
Could Joshua have known precisely where the great armies of the contending nations lay, he would have hastened to them without delay, for in the return of Judith to her father lay the greatest hope of world peace.
Half the distance they covered without sighting a single soldier, and then Simon the Rock called Joshua’s attention to a distant craft that rested upon the vegetation of the great Jordan valley, through which the chariot was speeding.
About the vessel many figures could be seen swarming. The Salemite saw that they were gentile soldiers, and that they were repeatedly charging down upon the crew of a stranded caravan.
The nationality of the latter he could not make out.
It was not necessary to change course to permit passing directly by the scene of battle, but Joshua veered his craft a few hundred feet that he might have a better and closer view.
If the caravan was of a friendly power, he could do no less than stop and direct his weapons upon her enemies, though with the precious freight he carried he scarcely felt justified in stopping, for he could offer but two swords in reinforcement—scarce enough to warrant jeopardizing the safety of the Princess of Ephraim.
As they came close by the stricken train, they could see that it would be but a question of minutes before the gentile horde would swarm across the defenders to glut the ferocity of their bloodlust upon them.
“It would be futile to stop,” said Joshua to Judith. “The caravan may even be of Parthia—she shows no insignia. All that we may do is fire upon the hordesmen”.
As he spoke he stepped to one of the bows and pointed its bolt toward the gentile soldiers at the caravan’s side.
At the first shot from the chariot those upon the vessel below evidently discovered her for the first time.
Immediately a device fluttered from the defenders of the caravan.
Judith of Ephraim caught her breath quickly, glancing at Joshua.
The camel train was that of Joseph Caiaphas, Great Prince of Temple— the man to whom the Princess of Ephraim was betrothed! How easy for the Salemite to pass on, leaving his rival to the fate that could not for long be averted! No man could accuse him of cowardice or treachery, for Joseph Caiaphas was in arms against Salem, and, further, upon the chariot were not enough swords to delay even temporarily the outcome that already was a foregone conclusion in the minds of the watchers.
What would Joshua, Prince of Salem, do? Scarce had the pennant broken to the faint breeze the bow of the chariot turned at a sharp angle toward the fray.
“Can you navigate her?” asked Joshua of Judith.
The girl nodded.
“I am going to try to take the survivors aboard,” he continued. “It will need both Simon the Rock and myself to man the guns while the Sadducees take to the boarding tackle. Keep her bow depressed against the arrow fire. She can bear it better in her forward armour, and at the same time the propellers will be protected”.
He hurried to the side as Judith took the control.
A moment later the boarding tackle dropped from the side of the chariot, and from a dozen points along either side stout, knotted leathern lines trailed downward.
At the same time a signal broke from her bow: “Prepare to board us”.
A shout arose from the deck of the Sadducaian caravan.
Joshua, who by this time had returned from the side, smiled sadly.
He was about to snatch from the jaws of death the man who stood between himself and the woman he loved.
Take the port bow, Simon the Rock,” he called to the bowman, and himself stepped to the bow upon the starboard side.
At any moment any of them might be pierced.
The men defending the Sadducaian caravan were battling with renewed hope.
In the rear stood Joseph Caiaphas, leaning back in prayer.
Just then a leading animal was hit. Judith hauled the reins in an effort to avert the imminent tragedy, but she succeeded only in lessening the shock of the chariot’s impact as she struck a rock behind which the Sadducees were sheltering.
When the gentile men saw only two soldiers and a woman upon the deck of the chariot, a savage shout of triumph arose from their ranks, while an answering groan broke from the lips of the Levites.
The former now turned their attention upon the new arrival, for they saw her defenders could soon be overcome.
As they charged a shout of warning came from Joseph Caiaphas.
“Who is it,” he cried, “that offers his life in the service of the Lord’s servant, Joseph Caiaphas? Never was wrought a nobler deed of self-sacrifice upon The Land!”.
The gentile horde was scrambling over the side of the chariot as there broke from the bow the device of Joshua, Prince of Salem, in reply to the query of the Great Prince of Temple.
None upon the smaller chariot had opportunity to note the effect of this announcement upon the Levites, for their attention was claimed slowly now by that which was transpiring upon their own deck.
Simon the Rock stood behind the bow he had been operating, staring with wide eyes at the onrushing hideous gentile soldiers.
Joshua, seeing him thus, felt a pang of regret that, after all, this man that he had thought so valorous should prove, in the hour of need, as spineless as Judas or Herod Antipas.
“Simon the Rock—the man!” he shouted. “Grip yourself! Remember the days of the glory of the fishers of Peraea. Fight! Fight, man! Fight as never man fought before. All that remains to us is to die fighting”.
Simon the Rock turned toward the Salemite, a gentile smile upon his lips.
“Why should we fight,” he asked. “Against such fearful odds? There is another way—a better way. Look!”.
He pointed toward the abandoned caravan.
The gentile men, a handful of them, had already reached the chariot’s deck, as Joshua glanced in the direction the Peraean had indicated.
The sight that met his eyes set his heart to thumping in joy and relief Judith of Ephraim might yet be saved? For from below there poured a stream of giant bowmen, gentile and terrible.
Not the bowmen of Herod Antipas or Judas, but the bowmen of a commander of bowmen—savage fighting men, eager for the fray.
The gentile soldiers paused in momentary surprise and consternation, but only for a moment.
Then with horrid war-cries they leaped forward to meet these strange, new foemen.
A volley of arrows stopped them in their tracks.
In a moment the only gentile soldiers upon the deck of the chariot were dead soldiers, and the bowmen of Simon the Rock were leaping over the vessel’s sides to charge the hordesmen upon the ground.
Cohort after cohort tumbled from the bowels of the chariot to launch themselves upon the unfortunate gentile men.
Joseph Caiaphas and his Levites stood wide-eyed and speechless with amazement as they saw thousands of these strange, fierce soldiers emerge from the companion-way of the small craft that could not comfortably have accomodated more than six.
At last the gentile men could withstand the onslaught of overwhelming numbers no longer.
Slowly, at first, they fell back across the valley plain.
The bowmen pursued them.
Simon the Rock, standing upon the deck of the chariot, trembled with excitement.
At the top of his lungs he voiced the victorious cry of his forgotten day.
He roared encouragement and commands at his battling cohorts, and then, as they charged further and further from the chariot, he could no longer withstand the lure of battle.
Leaping over the ship’s side to the ground, he joined the last of his bowmen as they raced off over the dead sea-bottom in pursuit of the fleeing gentile horde.
Beyond a low promontory of what once had been an island the gentile men were disappearing toward the west.
Close upon their heels raced the fleet bowmen of a bygone day, and forging steadily ahead among them Joshua and Judith could see the mighty figure of Simon the Rock, brandishing aloft the Arabim short-sword with which he was armed, as he urged his creatures after the retreating enemy.
As the last of them disappeared behind the promontory, Joshua turned toward Judith of Ephraim.
“They have taught me a lesson, these vanishing bowmen of Peraea,” he said. “When they have served their purpose they remain not to embarrass their masters by their presence. Joseph Caiaphas and his soldiers are here to protect you. My acts have constituted the proof of my honesty of purpose. Good-bye,” and he knelt at her feet, raising the tassels of her dress to his lips.
The girl reached out a hand and laid it upon the long black hair of the head bent before her.
Softly she asked: “Where are you going, Joshua?”
“With Simon the Rock, the bowman,” he replied.
“There will be fighting and forgetfulness.” The girl put her hands before her eyes, as though to shut out some mighty temptation from her sight. “May my ancestors have mercy upon me,” she cried, “if I say the thing I have no right to say; but I cannot see you cast your life away, Joshua, Prince of Salem! Stay, my chieftain. Stay—I love you!”.
A cough behind them brought both about, and there they saw standing, not two paces from them Joseph Caiaphas, Great Prince of Temple.
For a long moment none spoke.
Then Joseph Caiaphas cleared his throat.
“I could not help hearing all that passed,” he said. “I am no fool, to be blind to the love that lies between you. Nor am I blind to the lofty honour that has caused you, Joshua, to risk your life and hers to save mine, though you thought that that very act would rob you of the chance to keep her for your own. “Nor can I fail to appreciate the virtue that has kept your lips sealed against words of love for this Salemite, Judith, for I know that I have but just heard the first declaration of your passion for him. I do not condemn you. Rather should I have condemned you had you entered a loveless marriage with me. Take back your liberty, Judith of Ephraim,” he cried, “and bestow it where your heart already lies enchained, and when the golden collars are clasped about your necks you will see that Joseph Caiaphas’s is the first prayer to be raised in declaration of eternal friendship for the new Princess of Salem and her royal mate!”.
A Glossary Of Names And Terms
Arabim. A gentile horde.
Aretas. A gentile man, chieftain of the Nabataim.
Barabbas. Joshua’s alias.
Belshazzar. A Holy Heathen of the Tenth Cycle.
David Overgath. Lord of The Land.
Ephraim. A former kingdom of The Land.
Gomorrha. An ancient dead city of The Land.
Great Sea. Mightiest of the five oceans.
Harith the Fourth. King of Arabim.
Heathens of Tammuz. A gentile religious cult.
Helios. The Peraean god; a huge lion.
Herod Antipas. King of Peraea.
Jordan. Valley of Heaven.
Joseph Caiaphas. Great Prince of Temple.
Joseph Ramath. Grandfather of Sarah of Abraham and King of Salem.
Joshua of Salem. Son of David Overgath and Sarah of Abraham.
Judith. Princess of Ephraim.
Judas. A Peraean.
Nabataea. Name of a gentile Landian horde from the city of Petra.
Neron. King of Rome.
Parthians. A gentile horde inimical to Arabim.
Peraea. The forgotten city.
Pilatus. Prince of Rome.
Rome. A conquering Empire in the limit of the west.
Salem. The city of the grandfather of Sarah of Abraham.
Simon. Joshua’s Treasurer.
Sarah of Abraham. Princess of Salem.
Simon the Rock. Commander of Peraean bowmen.
Sodom. The Lost Sea of Jordan.
Styx. River of Death.
Sycomore. A Landian hardwood.
Taurus Mountains. Surrounding the Valley Jordan and the Lost Sea of Sodom.
Temple. A Landian kingdom in the eastern hemisphere.
Tenth Cycle. A sphere, or plane of eminence, among the Heathens of Tammuz.
The Most High. King of Ephraim.
Titus. Son of Vespasian the Roman noble.
Vespasian. A Roman noble.
