CyrRiIL” 125

ix



x LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

“ Cyrit SAT BY THE BOAT FOR A WHILE”

THE Rappl DENOUNCES CyRIL. “ ‘Get THEE HENcE!
THOU ART NO LONGER OF MY KINSMEN!’”

“THE TOWER CAME CRASHING, THUNDERING Down!”
“ “<¢WHat A SPLENDID SWORD!’ EXCLAIMED CYRIL”

““CyRIL,’ SAID A Low, SWEET VOICE NEAR Him, ‘LOOK
Up. FATHER AND I ARE HERE?”

“Fizra AT ONCE HELD OUT HIS STRONG AND PERFECT
Hanp”

“
“THe THRONG WAS LED BY JUDAS”

“THEY WERE Drawina Lots FOR THE SEAMLESS
VESTURE”

PAGE

139

149
157
165
181

199

225
249

267



THE SWORDMAKER’S SON





THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

CHAPTER I
THE FUGITIVES FROM SAMARIA

SCORE of mounted spearmen were galloping sharply
along the broad, well-kept highway that led past
the foot-hills of Mount Gilboa toward the southern gate
of the ancient city of Jezreel. The pattern of their bur-
nished helmets, and their arms and armor, indicated that
they were from the light cavalry of some Roman legion.
There was but little conversation among them, but as they
rode on enough was said by both officers and men to tell
that they were pursuing fugitives, whom they expected
soon to overtake.

“We shall cut them down before they reach Jezreel,”
came from a harsh voice in the ranks.

“Slay them not,” responded the foremost horseman.
“The old smith must be crucified, and the boy is wanted
for the circus.”

Less than a mile eastward from the highway and the

horsemen, under thick tree-shelter on the brow of a hill,
1



2 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

stood two persons who eagerly watched the passage of
the cavalry, and seemed to know their errand. One was
a well-crown, handsome youth, with dark, closely curling
hair, clear olive complexion, and eyes that were really
glittering in their brilliancy. He may have been some-
what over sixteen years of age; but that is no longer
boyhood among the nations of the East. The simple dress
that he wore —a sleeveless tunic of thin woolen cloth —
hardly concealed the lithe, sinewy form that seemed to
promise for him the suppleness of a young panther.
Over his left arm was thrown a loosely fitted linen gar-
ment—a kind of robe, to be put on when needed; and
on his feet were sandals. A leather belt around his waist
sustained a wallet.

The other person was a powerfully built, middle-aged
man, with a deeply lined, intelligent face. There was a
strong resemblance between the two, but there was one
marked difference. The features of the man were of the
highest type of the old Hebrew race, and his nose was
aquiline, while that of the boy was straight, and his lips
were thinner, as if in him the Hebrew and Greek races
had been merged into one.

The summer air was wonderfully pure and clear. The
two watchers could almost discern the trappings of the
cavalry horses, while the Carmel mountain ridges, far
across the plain of Esdraelon before them, rose above the
horizon with a distinctness impossible in any moister at-
mosphere. Behind them, eastward, were the forests and



THE FUGITIVES FROM SAMARIA 3

crags of Gilboa, and the elder of the fugitives turned and
anxiously scanned its broken outline.

They seemed to have escaped for a time, for the Roman
spearmen were galloping away steadily; and the young
man shook his clenched fist at them as he exclaimed:

“Ye wolves! We could have dared the Samaritan
mob, if it had not been for you.”

“But, Cyril, hearken,” responded his father, gloomily ;
“there were too many, even of the mob. There is but
one hope for us now. We are followed closely, and we
could not long be concealed here. I must flee into the
wilderness until this storm is over. It will pass. Go thou
to our kinsmen in Galilee. Go first to the house of Isaac
Ben Nassur, and see thy sister; but stay not long in
Cana. If thou art not safe in Galilee, go on and join one
of the bands in the fastnesses of Lebanon, or find thy
way to Ceesarea.”

“Nay, father,” exclaimed Cyril. “Lois is safe there in
Cana. It is better I should go with thee. Thou wilt need
me.”

His brave young face was flushed with intense earnest-
ness a she spoke. His father had been watching it with
eyes that were full of pride in his son, but he interrupted
him, almost sternly.

“Go, as I bid thee,” he said. “So shalt thou escape the
galleys or the sword. Whither I go, I know not; but
what becomes of me is of less importance, now that my
right hand has failed me.”



4 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

He stretched out his hand, and Cyril shuddered, al-
though he must often have seen it. Sinewy, remarkably
muscular as was the bare, bronzed arm, all below its
wrist was shriveled, distorted, withered, perhaps by rheu-
matism or some kindred affliction. The father’s face grew
dark and bitter as he added: “ Who, now, would believe
that this hand had led the men of Galilee when they slew
the soldiers of Herod the Great in the streets of Jerusalem ?
We were beaten? Ay, they outnumbered us; but how
they did go down! ’T was a great day —that old Pass-
over fight. I have smitten the wolves of Rome, too, in
more places than they know of! Many and many a good
blade have I shaped and tempered— many a shield and
helmet; but the war-work and the anvil-work of Ezra
the Swordmaker are done, and he goes forth a crippled
beggar — yea, even a hunted wild beast! Go, my son;
go thou to Isaac Ben Nassur.”

“JT will go,” replied Cyril, with tears on his face and a
tremor in his voice; “but when — when shall I see thee
again?”

“The Lord, the God of our fathers, he only knoweth,”
said Ezra. “There have been terrible times for Israel,
and there are bloodier days to come. I am glad thy
mother is at rest. Only thou and Lois remain. Our kin-
dred are fewer than they were. Something tells me that
the day of a great vengeance is near at hand. So all the
prophets tell us. O my son, be thou ready for the coming
of the promised King!”



THE FUGITIVES FROM SAMARIA 5

“The King!” Cyril exclaimed. “Why does he not
come now? Why is it that our people are left without a
leader, to be slaughtered like sheep ?”

“Who shall know the counsel of the Most High?” rev-
erently responded Ezra. “ But the Messiah, the Prince
of the house of David, the Captain of the host of Israel,
he will surely come !”

Something of their family history presented itself in
their after-talk. Long years ago, it appeared, a Greek
proselyte to the Jewish faith, a woman of high character
and great beauty, named Lois, had met with Hzra the
Swordmaker at a Passover week at Jerusalem, and had
not long afterward become his wife. She had been as
zealous a believer as if she had been born a daughter of
Abraham.

They talked of her, and of the young Lois at Cana, and
of the oppressions of their people, and of the seeming
hopelessness of any present help; but at last Ezra turned
and waved his withered right hand westward.

“On that plain of Esdraelon,” he said, “ since the world
was made more men have fallen by the sword than upon
any other piece of ground. In the day of the coming
King, in the year of his redeemed, there shall be fought
there the greatest of all battles, on the field of blood in
the valley before Jezreel.”

He seemed truly to grow in stature. His face fiushed,
and his voice rang out like a trumpet. All the fierce en-
thusiasm of the brave old Hebrew, however, was repro-



6 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

duced in the face and attitude of his son. Cyril looked
toward Esdraelon and Carmel with eyes that blazed, and
cheeks that were white instead of red.

“The great battle!” he exclaimed. “Dost thou think
I may be there?”

“God grant it!” responded the swordmaker, with great
solemnity. “I have taught thee my trade; thou hast
also learned every feat that is to be performed with the
sword and spear. I have taught thee to box, and to
wrestle, and to swim. Thou art as fleet of foot ag Asahel
—as fleet as a wild roe. Thou art perfect, for thy age,
with the bow and with the sling. I have hoped for thee
that thou mayest be a captain. Therefore, as thou goest,
learn all there is to know about war. Learn from the
Romans; study their camps and forts, and the marching
of their cohorts. What we need is their drill and their
discipline. Go, now. If I am slain, I am slain. Live
thou, and be strong; and pray that in the day that is
coming thou mayest indeed fight at the right hand of the
anointed King of Israel.”

For one short moment he held. Cyril tightly in his arms,
and then they parted. The face of the old warrior-ar-
morer grew stern, perhaps despairing, but he turned and
silently strode away toward the rugged declivities of the
Gilboa Mountains.

Cyril stood, motionless, looking after his father until
the rocks and trees hid him from view. He turned again
toward the plain, but it was no time for thinking of the





CYRIL SHOOK HIS CLENCHED FIST AT THE ROMANS.







THE FUGITIVES FROM SAMARIA 9

mighty hosts which had met there or were yet to meet.
The spot he stood on was no hiding-place, and the boy,
too, must flee for his liberty or his life.

The galloping spearmen had long since disappeared,
and now Cyril’s eyes fell upon something that lay on the
ground at his feet. He stooped and picked it up —a little
bag that answered with a chink to the shake he gave it.
He had known that it was there, but acted as if he had
been unconscious of it until now. He untied it and poured
out the contents into his hand.

“Seven shekels and twenty denarii,” he mused. “I am
afraid he gave me all he had. He can get more, if he can
reach his friends at the cave in the wilderness of Judea.
I want to go there some day. I wish I could be with him
now, and not in Galilee. I will not spend one denarius
until I am compelled to.”

He put the money back into the bag and hid it under
his tunic. It was not a large sum, but it was quite a pro-
vision, in that time and place, for a young fellow like
him. The shekel, nominally worth sixty-two and a half
cents of our money, was a Hebrew coin, and it might have
been called the dollar of Palestine but that it would buy
so much more than would a dollar of the present day.
The denarius was a Roman coin worth sixteen cents, and
was a fair day’s wages for a laboring-man.

Cyril’s bag, therefore, contained his living for three
months, if he could prevent it from being violently taken
away by one kind of robber or another. There were



10 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

many, of many kinds, for such as he, and he was mind-
ful of them while he so carefully concealed the bag.
During the years that he could remember, thousands
of Jewish youths had been sold into slavery, and thou-
sands of Jewish patriots, such as Ezra, had been slain
with the sword or crucified beside the highways. He
had evidently been, himself, an eye-witness of terrible
scenes, and his eyes were flashing angrily as he recalled
them.

“Oh, that the King of Israel would come!” he ex-
claimed aloud. “He will rule at Jerusalem and in Sama-
ria! He will conquer the Romans! He will subdue the
world! Iwill go to Galilee, now, but I hope to be with
him on that day,— the day of the great battle in the val-
ley before Jezreel!”

He set off at once down the hillside, toward the very
highway along which the cavalry had ridden. It led to-
ward Jezreel, but it also led toward the boundary-line
between the district of Samaria, belonging to the region
under Pontius Pilate, the representative of the Roman
emperor Tiberius, and the district of Galilee, belonging
to Herod Antipas, son of Herod the Great, who was also
a subject of the Roman emperor. If Cyril were once
across that line, the perils of such an insignificant fugi-
tive from Samaria would be very much diminished, for
there were jealousies between Herod and Pilate, and the
military forces of one of them did not trespass upon the
territory of the other. No doubt there would be guards
along the frontier as well as patrols on the great military



THE FUGITIVES FROM SAMARIA 11

road, and Cyril may have been thinking of such obstacles
when he said:

“T can get through in spite of them—and I will die
rather than be taken prisoner !”

As for Ezra the Swordmaker, he walked very rapidly
for some time after parting from his son. More and more
wild and rugged grew the scenery around him. He clam-
bered out, at last, upon a bare, sunlit knob of granite,
above a narrow valley in the middle of which was a
cluster of rude dwellings.

“No,” he said, looking thoughtfully down upon them;
“T must not sleep under a roof to-night. Neither will my
boy. The villagers are hospitable enough, but who
knows what enemies I might find among them?”

He looked up, for a moment, but the cloudlessly blue
sky sent back no answer. He had murmured an earnest
prayer in the old Hebrew tongue, and when he ceased he
turned his face toward the north, the direction in which
Cyril had gone.

“My brave young lion!” he exclaimed. “It must be
his hand, not mine, that will henceforth ply the hammer
and draw the sword. I am like Israel.and Judah, for my
right hand is withered and I can strike no more.”

His deep, mournful voice rang out unheard through
the solitude, and then he was silent. There was uncom-
mon vigor in the firm, elastic step with which he now
pushed forward, across broken ledges and through the
tangled forest-growths, toward a mass of gloomy-looking
cliffs which rose to the northward of the valley.



CHAPTER II
THE RABBI’S LECTURE

HE village street, in which the maiden stood by the
well, wore a half-sleepy look, for little breeze was
stirring and the day was warm. Others were coming and
going, but she did not seem to be speaking to any of her
companions. “Tt will be one of the largest wedding-par-
ties they ’ve ever had in Cana,” she was thinking. “The
bride is very handsome, and is rich.”

She had put down her tall, slender-necked water-pitcher
upon the circle of masonry around the mouth of the well.
She stood erect, and the merry expression which had
twinkled for a moment in her brilliant dark eyes faded
away. They suddenly grew thoughtful, and her lip quiv-
ered as she exclaimed:

“When will they come, and why do I not hear from
them? They may have been killed!”

Cana was a thriving village on the great highway
through the hills west of the Sea of Galilee. From the
main road a number of narrow, irregular streets wan-
dered up and along a low hillside, and were bordered by

houses that were built mostly of stone. The inhabitants
12



THE RABBIS LECTURE 13

had need for thrift and industry, if it were only because
of the tax-gatherers; for Herod Antipas was building
palaces, fortresses, and cities. All the people paid taxes
and bribes to him and to his builders.

While the consequences were often painful enough,
there were no signs of actual poverty in the vicinity of
the well. It stood several paces in front of a dwelling,
two stories in height, which seemed somewhat better than
its neighbors. The porch along its lower story was
thickly clad with vines, and from under these the girl
had come to bring her jar to the well. A Jewish maiden
of nearly fifteen was accounted a full-grown woman, and
the slightness of her graceful figure did not interfere with
an air of maturity which her present state of mind much >
increased. Her simple dress, that became her so well,
was of good materials.

Ranged on either side of the well were six large, cum-
brous-looking water-pots of stoneware, partly filled, for
the convenience of any person wishing to perform the
foot or hand ablutions required by the exacting ceremo-
nial law of the Jews.

The vine-clad porch was a pleasant place. It was pro-
vided with wooden benches; and on one of these sat a
man who seemed to consider himself a person of impor-
tance. Hvery movement, and even his attitude when sit-
ting still, might be said to accord with a conviction that
he, Rabbi Isaac Ben Nassur, was the wisest, the most
learned man in Cana.



14 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

He was very tall, as well as broad and heavy; and his
thick, gray beard came down to the voluminous sash that
was folded around his waist. His eyebrows were black
and projecting; his nose was prominent; his black eyes
were piercing; he was dressed, as became a rabbi, or any
other highly respectable Jew, in a long linen tunic with
sleeves, that was belted by the sash. Over this he wore a
long, loosely flowing robe, called an “abba,” also of linen.
Around his shoulders, with the ends falling in front, was
a broad white woolen scarf, with narrow bars of red and
purple and blue, and with blue tassels at the corners of
each of its two ends. This was the “tallith,” and was
worn as a reminder that the wearer must remember all
the commandments of the Law and faithfully perform
them.

Every good Jew wore a tallith, larger or smaller, and
some were costly; but Rabbi Isaac was by no means a
rich man, as even his well-worn sandals testified, and there-
fore his tallith was only of fine wool, without ornament.
On his head, instead of a turban, was a long linen ker-
chief so folded that three of the corners fell down at the
back and sides. A band kept the kerchief in place.

In front of the rabbi stood a tall young man, listening
with most reverent attention, having taken off his turban
to receive his father’s admonitions.

The thick vine-leaves which veiled the shady porch did
not prevent the sonorous voice of the rabbi from carrying
at least as far as the well.



THE RABBIS LECTURE 15

The audience there consisted of more than one person.
The women, of all ages, who came to the well with water-
jars, were ready to rest and gossip a little before carrying
them away on their shoulders or gracefully balanced
upon their heads.

Lois was disposed to ask, even eagerly, for other news
than that of the village of Cana. She laughed when
others did, but, as her gossiping neighbors came and
went, shadow after shadow, as of disappointment, flitted
across her face. Not one of them had any news to tell
her of the absent ones for whom she longed.

It was evident that the wedding of Raphael, the near
kinsman of Lois, and only son of the wise Rabbi Isaac,
was considered an important event, and a welcome varia-
tion in the somewhat humdrum course of the daily life
of the village. The rabbi himself, so regarding it, dis-
coursed eloquently upon the general subject of matri-
mony, as well as upon the especial ceremony now at hand;
and Raphael would surely be a model husband if he
should succeed in living up to his father’s instructions.
So said the langhing maids and matrons at the well. Al-
most all of them expected to have some share in the wed-
ding festivities. Some were friends or kindred of the
bride’s family, and were to join the procession from her
residence which would escort her and the bridegroom to
the house of Ben Nassur. Others were to wait with Lois
and the rabbi’s family until they should be told that the



16 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

bridegroom was coming. Then they would go out to
meet him.

The wedding was to take place in the evening of the
following day, whereupon seven days of feasting were to
follow, and for these great preparations had been made.

Kindred and friends were expected to come from far
and near on such an occasion, and were welcomed with
liberal hospitality.

No news is sometimes akin to good news, and the gos-
sippers at the well had brought with them no alarming
rumor of any kind. The shadows gradually flitted away
from the face of Lois. She lifted her jar and put it upon
her head. She was just disappearing through the porch
into the house, when the deep tones of Ben Nassur seemed
to send a thrill through her. His whole manner had
suddenly changed, and he was now standing erect.

“So now, my son,” he said, “see to it that all things are
ready for the wedding. Speak not to any man, impru-
dently, of this that I now tell thee. I go to the house of
Nathaniel, to hear more; but a mounted messenger from
Samaria, this morning, brought tidings of another tumult
in that city. More of our brethren have fallen by the
swords of their enemies, and there was none to help, for
the centurion in command there hates our nation as he
hath oft proved. Accursed may he be!”

Bitter and wrathful were the face and voice of the
rabbi, but the low-toned, fierce response of his son was
not audible beyond the porch. Now, however, there were





RABBI BEN NASSUR’S DISCOURSE TO HIS SON RAPHAEL.

4







THE RABBIS LECTURE 19

tears in the eyes of Lois, and her cheeks were white with
fear.

“And my father and Cyril are in Samaria!” she ex-
claimed. “Oh, how I wish I could hear from them!
What if they have been slain, or—or crucified! The
Romans are merciless!”



CHAPTER III
CYRIL AND THE ROMAN SOLDIER

YRIL was now well out upon the battle-plain of Hs-
draelon. Too many people were coming and going
upon the highways. They were not soldiers, nor pursuing
him, but the young fugitive preferred the broad stubble
fields, from which the wheat had long since been reaped,
and where now the tall growths of weeds concealed him
very well. There were stone walls to climb and villages
to go around, and the need for keeping under cover made
the distances to be traveled longer. On he went, with a
springing, elastic step, and he did not seem to feel at all
the heat of the sun. It was his native climate and did
not oppress him.

The many orchards and vineyards to which he came
were those of his friends, for he did not seem to mind
the husbandmen at work in them. As he made his
way between the long rows of a luxuriant vineyard, he
thought:

“It cannot be far now to the Kishon. Father says that
there is always a Roman patrol up and down the bank, so

that no one can cross, except under the eyes of the guards
20



CYRIL AND THE ROMAN SOLDIER 21

at the bridges. I shall have to keep watch for the patrol.
Once across the Kishon, and no man in heavy armor can
overtake me.”

Ezra had said of him, “as fleet of foot as Asahel, the
brother of Joab,” and Cyril had already shown himself a
very rapid traveler; but he might meet mounted men.
He went forward more cautiously, among the sheltering
vines, and as he paused, listening, there came a sound
that startled him. It was faint and far, but he exclaimed:

“A trumpet? That must be a signal. Those camel-
drivers on the road saw me, and they must have reported
me to the guard at the bridge. It is life or death, now!”

In a minute more, he was peering out from the north-
erly border of the vineyard.

“There is the Kishon!” he said. ‘There is a patrol,
too; he is a legionary.”

On the bank of the deep and swift river stood a fully
armed soldier of that terrible power which overshadowed
all the known world. To Cyril, that solitary legionary,
stationed there to prevent such as he from crossing the
Kishon, was an embodiment of all the enemies of Israel
and Judah. The soldier stood erect, with his pilum, or
broad-bladed spear, in his right hand. The vizor of his
bronze helmet was open. He seemed to have understood
the trumpet-note of warning, and was looking in all di-
rections. His sword hung at the left side, ready for use,
and on his left arm was a large round shield, now raised

a little as he scanned the vineyards and the river-bank,
2



22 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

as if he wondered from which of them an enemy could
come upon him at that time and place. After a few mo-
ments, he turned and strode slowly, vigilantly, along the
river-bank, while Cyril watched him.

“Good!” exclaimed Cyril, at last. “He is far enough
now. I can reach the river.”

Out he darted and sprang away toward the Kishon. Of
course he was at once seen by the quick-eyed patrol, and
hoarse and loud came the Latin summons to halt. To dis-
obey was sure and instant death, if Cyril should be over-
taken, and he would be followed with relentless persistence
if he should escape; but he bounded steadily forward while
the soldier ran toward him. The soldier ran well, too,
considering the weight of arms and armor he carried, for
all Roman legionaries were trained athletes; but he could
not get between the armorer’s son and the Kishon.

Not broad, but very deep and swift, was the torrent
that came rushing down from its sources among the
Gilboa hills. A spring, a splash, and Cyril was swim-
ming vigorously, though swept along down-stream by
the strong current, while his left hand held his rolled-
up robe high and dry above the water.

Fierce, indeed, were the threatening commands of the
legionary, but on the brink of the Kishon he was com-
pelled to halt and consider. No doubt he could swim,
but not well with his heavy armor, his shield, and his
sword.

Lightly and rapidly swam Cyril, and in a few moments



CYRIL AND THE ROMAN SOLDIER 23

more he was out on the northerly bank of the Kishon,
sending back a shout of triumph and defiance. But he
meant to send back something more. His eyes were
swiftly searching the ground around him, while he drew
out something which had been hidden among the folds
of his robe.

It was a square of leather, as broad as his two hands,
with corner-straps as long as his arm —a sling, such as
David used of old. In that older day, all the tribe of
Benjamin, to which the house of Ezra the Swordmaker
belonged, were noted slingers; and here was their young
representative, stooping to pick up smooth, rounded peb-
bles, as David had picked up his pebbles from the brook
in the valley of Elah. In an instant he was erect again,
sling in hand, while yet the soldier stood considering
the risk of swimming the Kishon.

Whirl went the sling, with such a swiftness that it
could hardly be seen, and away hissed the stone. No
doubt the Roman had faced slingers, many a time; but
the distance was more than fifty yards, and he may not
have expected so true an aim. Up went his shield, in-
deed, a second too late, and well for him that he bowed
his head, for Cyril’s first pebble struck him full upon the
erest. It did not knock him down, only because, in the
heat of the day, he had loosened the fastenings of his
helmet, so that the blow of the stone struck it from his
head, and sent it rolling away in the grass.

No crossing of the Kishon now, with that slinger to



24 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

practise upon his bare head all the way! Expert warrior
though he was, he had enough to do for the next two
minutes in warding off with his shield the well-aimed
pebbles which rapidly followed the first.

Fast they came, and loudly they rang, one of them
glancing from the shield to batter the brazen greave on
his right leg.

“T must not delay,” thought Cyril. “Other Romans
may be coming. One more!”

Away flew the stone, but the blow on his leg had warned
the soldier to kneel and guard now, and the missile made
only a deep dent in the face of the shield.

When the bearer of it looked out again from behind
the target of bull’s-hide and metal which had served him
so well, the slinger had disappeared ; and there was nothing
for the beaten Roman patrol to do but to go and report
to his officer that one of the best slingers he had ever
met had escaped from him. He could not have guessed
how one J ewish boy’s heart was dancing with delight and
pride as he pushed along northward, thinking, dreaming,
and even exclaiming enthusiastically :

“Oh, that the King would come to lead us against the
Romans!”

No hunted wolf could have gone forward more cau-
tiously than did Cyril. There were other streams to cross,
and some of them were deep; but there were no patrols in
his way, and the waters were no impediment. They were
more like cooling baths provided for a wayfarer who was



CYRIL AND THE ROMAN SOLDIER 25

fond of them. If nothing worse should block his path,
he would have no difficulty in getting to Cana some time
during the next day.

The sun went down, and a cloudless night came on.
The sky seemed to blaze with stars, and the young traveler
could still find his way, somewhat more slowly, along the
lanes which led from house to house and from hamlet
to hamlet. It was toilsome journeying, and there was
now added the danger of being taken by anybody and
everybody for a prowling robber.

“They would make short work of me,” he said, “or I
might be sold for a slave. They would not crucify me,
but they would surely scourge me.”

It seemed as if Cyril gave hardly a thought to the fact
that he had gone without any supper. Perhaps he was
used to privation. At all events, he at last lay down under
the shadow of a wide-branching olive-tree, and went to
sleep as peacefully as if he had no enemies in the world.
His last thought was:

“Wather will escape them —I know that he will. To-
morrow will be the fifth day of the week, and I shall see
Lois before sunset.”



CHAPTER IV
BRINGING HOME THE BRIDE

BOUT an hour after Cyril lay down at the foot of
the olive-tree, that Wednesday evening, Lois was
one of a joyous procession which set out from the house
of Rabbi Isaac, as soon as word arrived that the bride-
groom was coming. Already, at the house of the bride’s
father, all the wedding formalities and ceremonials re-
quired by the Law or by Galilean custom had been fully
performed, and the bridal procession from that place was
winding its somewhat noisy way through the narrow and
crooked streets of Cana. The bridal pair were escorted
by all who had any right or will to accompany them.
When the procession from Ben Nassur’s house met them,
it faced about, forming one company, which increased as
they went along.

The bride herself, closely attended by the bridegroom
and his friends, was the central figure; butof her nothing
could be seen excepting the tresses of flowing hair which
escaped from under her veil. Her robes, however, were
glittering with all the jewels of her family for which a
place could anywhere be found. There were many musi-

26



BRINGING HOME THE BRIDE 27

cians,— fiute-players, beaters of cymbals, and others,—
and there were a number of fine singers among the girls
who came dancing along in front of the bride and groom,
singing the songs that befitted the occasion. Most of
these were in praise of the beauty and good qualities of
the bride. Among all the singers there was no voice
sweeter than that of Lois. She was accompanied by her
friends and neighbors; and each young girl carried in
her hand a lighted lamp, and all were exceedingly careful
lest it should go out, for an idea of evil fortune attached
to sucha happening. The lights of the little lamps carried
by the dancing, singing maidens, however, were as nothing
compared with that of the blazing torches borne by the
young men who went before or at the sides of the proces-
sion. This was evidently no ordinary wedding, in the
estimation of the people of Cana.

When the house of Ben Nassur was reached, most of
the merrymakers were at liberty to return to their own
homes; but a chosen few walked in with the bride and
groom, and thereupon the outer door of the house was
shut.

The fifth day of the week, Thursday, would be counted
as the first day of the feast, and during seven days Ben
Nassur would keep open house in honor of his son’s
wedding.

The fifth day of the week dawned brilliantly over Ju-
dea. Ezra the Swordmaker was just then cautiously
emerging from an opening which, at a little distance,



28 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

looked like a crack or furrow in the steep side of a hill.
His place of refuge for the night had been one of the
numberless caves, partly natural and partly artificial, with
which all that region abounds. They form very safe
hiding-places both for hunted men and for wild beasts.

Ezra stood still for a moment in the doorway of his
cave, and drew a long breath, glad to see the light and to
breathe the fresh morning air.

“Cyril is safe by this time,” he said. “He must have
passed the border. So am I safe, but — of what use am
Inow?” He groaned as he lifted his right hand. “T can
hardly call myself a man,” he said. “I must go and hide
in the wilderness of Judea. My days of service are done.
There is no power on earth that can restore a withered
hand!”

For withered it was: shriveled and crooked and gnarled.
He could neither grasp with the nerveless fingers nor
straighten them, and he let his arm fall loosely at his side,
and, turning, speedily disappeared in the forest.

There were a great many people coming and going that
day at the house of the wise rabbi Isaac Ben Nassur.
They were not all Cana people, by any means. The bridal
feast was spread in the large front room opening upon
the porch, and all who had a right to enter were wel-
comed heartily. Food was plentifully provided, but the
merriest hour of each day would be after sunset, when,
the day’s work being done, all the invited guests would
come.



BRINGING HOME THE BRIDE 29

The bridegroom was continually present, to receive con-
gratulations and good wishes. With him were several
young men of his more intimate friends; but decidedly
the most important figure in that room was Isaac him-
self. As master of the house and as ruler of the feast, he
sat at the head of the long table provided for the occa-
sion. His dress was as simple as ever, but it seemed to
have undergone a change, he wore it with so grand an
air. He appeared to be happy, and he received great re-
spect from the throng of people who came to congratulate
him upon the marriage of his son.

So the marriage-feast went on until the mid-day was
past and the shadows began to lengthen in the streets of
Cana. In the shade of Ben Nassur’s house, hours before
sunset, on the easterly side, stood two young people, half
hidden by the vines and shrubbery, who seemed to have
forgotten all about the wedding. Their talk was subdued
but exceedingly animated, for Cyril had arrived and he
was telling Lois of all that had happened since they had
parted at Samaria so many months before. She was as
earnestly patriotic as Cyril himself, and her face said
more than her words while she listened to Cyril’s account
of the doings of Samaritans and Romans, and of the deeds
of her father and his friends. Then he told her of his
own feat at the Kishon, and her bright black eyes flashed
with exulting admiration of a brother who had actually
struck off the helmet of a Roman legionary.

“Oh, Cyril !— what a soldier thou wilt be!”



30 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

“Tf the King were here to lead us!” broke in Cyril.
“Oh, for the Messiah, the Captain! I could fight under
him.”

“ Qyril,” replied Lois, “I have somewhat to tell thee.
Nathanael, Isaac’s friend, was at the Jordan where John
the Baptizer is preaching. That was several weeks ago.
He came back with a report about Jesus of Nazareth, and
how John had said of him that he was the Lamb of God.
It is so strange!”

“Herod has imprisoned John in the Black Castle,” said
Cyril, “not far from the Dead Sea.”

“But he is a prophet,” said Lois; “ Nathanael believes
it. The carpenter’s son is of the royal house of David.
He will be here to-day with some of his friends from
Capernaum and Bethsaida, and thou wilt see him.”

Cyril listened in silence, for the tidings deeply interested
him. He had dreamed and hoped and talked, as had all
other Jews young or old, about a Prince of the house of
David, an Anointed Deliverer; but it was quite another
thing to be told that the man he longed for had already
been found, and that he was to meet him at the house of
Ben Nassur.

“Come,” said Lois, “I will show thee his mother. She
is there by the well, waiting for him. She is Hannah’s
near kinswoman, and we love her greatly.”

“He is only a carpenter now,” said Cyril.

“Rabbi Isaac said to Nathanael that Jesus is indeed a
lineal descendant of David, but he is not a soldier. He



BRINGING HOME THE BRIDE 31

reads in the synagogues, and he has been preaching much
of late. Still, Isaac says he is not learned like a rabbi.”

“T wish I could see him,” exclaimed Cyril.

“Come,” said Lois, again; and they went slowly, talk-
ing almost in whispers. Lois had not yet seen the son of
the carpenter of Nazareth, and her eagerness to do so
was quickly communicated to her enthusiastic brother.
He felt his heart beat more quickly, and his breath came
faster, as she told him of the various marvels that had
been crowned at last by the testimony of John at the
Jordan.

‘“‘Hven while he was in the water,” she said, “a beauti-
ful white dove came down and alighted on his head, and
there was heard a voice from the heavens.”

“T wish I had been there!” exclaimed Cyril. “But
is that Mary, his mother?”

“Yes; she stands there — there by the well,” said Lois.
“Ts she not a noble-looking woman? And she says her
son has never seemed just like other men.”

But such was not the opinion of Isaac Ben Nassur and
other leading residents of Cana and of Nazareth. They
knew the young Jesus (or Joshua, as they more frequently
called him), the son of Joseph. They had seen him from
boyhood. They thought no less of him because he worked
for a living: the wisest and greatest rabbis did so. More-
over, it was an important matter that he was of the royal
line of David, now so nearly extinct; every Jew was
ready to acknowledge so rare a distinction; but there



32 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

their reverence ended, for otherwise he had neither rank
nor power. The older and wiser they thought themselves,
the less they were concerned about Nathanael’s talk of
the marvelous occurrences at Bethabara.

Cyril and Lois were young, and were neither wise nor
learned. They, therefore, were more and more excited as
they drew nearer the noble-looking matron who stood by
the well, gazing expectantly down the street. Her face
had just been lighted by an expression of pleasure; but
now it suddenly clouded again, as if something whispered
to her by a woman who came from the house might be
unpleasant tidings. At that moment also, the bridegroom
himself appeared in the doorway, accompanied by his
mother, Hannah; and his face, like her own, wore an
anxious look.

“Such a disgrace, Raphael!” exclaimed Hannah, in a
half-frightened tone — “to have the supply of wine fail
on the first day of the feast!”

“The tax-gatherers are to blame!” he responded, in
anery mortification. “They had secured almost every
wine-skin that was for sale in Cana. So I sent all the
way to Chorazin, and I provided abundance; but the tax-
gatherers have stopped it on the way. They declared that
it had not paid its full duty; but I know that is untrue.
They have taken it —they are robbers!”

Raphael was sorely mortified. Anybody might have sym-
pathized with him. Such a scarcity would be considered
a disgrace to his whole family and to that of his bride.



























































“*CYRIL,’ SAID LOIS, POINTING, ‘LOOK! HE IS COME!’”







BRINGING HOME THE BRIDE 35

“Do not tell your father, yet,” said Hannah. “ But
what are we to do?”

Cyril and Lois, out by the well, had now heard this
news, the same which had so clouded the face of Mary.
“The publicans took it,” whispered Lois; but her brother
was gazing earnestly at the mother of Jesus of Nazareth,
and so did not reply. He could not explain to himself
what it was that was so different in her manner from any
of the other women around her. Her face was so pure,
so good, he thought; so full of light as she now turned
again to look down the street. Then she exclaimed:
“Hannah! Heis coming! He will be here quickly.”

“Cyril,” said Lois, pointing, “look! There is Jesus of
Nazareth! He is come!”



CHAPTER V
WINE FOR THE FEAST

HERE were half a dozen men in the foremost group
of the new-comers, and others were not far behind
them. All were in their best array, in honor of the wed-
ding. They were strongly made, brawny, resolute-look-
ing men, of the somewhat peculiar Galilean type, with
faces bronzed by the sun and hands hardened by toil.
There was no need for Lois to point out to Cyril the one
of whom she had been speaking.

Somewhat in advance of the rest walked one who was
speaking to a vigorous, fiery-eyed man, who strode along
at his side. Could this really be the heir of David and of
Solomon, this simply dressed and quiet Galilean?

Whether or not Cyril had begun to form expectations
of a different kind, this was the man of whom Nathanael
had spoken to Ben Nassur. He wore no crown, no sword,
no jewels; and Cyril had not supposed that he would.
But there was about him no sign of soldiership, or lead-
ership, or of authority.

“He is no captain,” thought Cyril, sadly; “he is no
warrior; he seems no greater than other men!”

The boy had a sense of disappointment, so little cause

36



WINE FOR THE FEAST 37

for enthusiasm or hope did this man from Capernaum
seem to bring with him. He should have been very
different, if he were indeed to be a king.

Nevertheless, Cyril could not turn his eyes away, al-
though they failed to keep an accurate picture which he
could afterward remember. He was sure, indeed, that
this man, while no taller than others, was of at least full
height, broad-shouldered, muscular, with the firm, easy
step and movement which belong to men of perfect form
and unimpaired strength. He was as erect as a pine, and
his sashed tunic and flowing robe, not different from
others around him, befitted him well. Cyril took note of
even his hair and beard; but if the boy also tried to tell
the color of the eyes, he could not do so, for his own sank
before them, and he had a curious sensation of being
looked through rather than looked at; and yet his heart
beat high and fast for a moment.

“ Lois,” he whispered.

“Hush!” she answered softly. “Mary is about to
speak to him.”

The party from Capernaum had halted at the well, and
Mary stood in front of her son, looking up at him with
an expression that seemed to be partly doubt and partly
expectation. Before a word was said by either of them,
Lois whispered to Cyril:

“Look! just see how he loves her!”

“Hush ! — listen,” said Cyril — for at that moment the
lips of Mary parted.



38 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

Her heart was full of the grave disaster which threat-
ened the wedding-feast, and behind her stood Hannah,
the bridegroom’s mother and Mary’s friend and kins-
woman.

“They have no wine!” said Mary.

“Why does she tell him?” whispered Lois; and some-
thing of the same idea was expressed in the answer of
Jesus. A different spirit, nevertheless, was manifest in
the kindly manner and smile with which he replied:
“Woman, what have I to do with thee? Mine hour is
not yet come.”

Mary must have understood her son’s meaning better
than others did or could, for she at once turned to those
who stood by the well. Among them were servants of
Ben Nassur, and she said to these:

“ Whatsoever he saith unto you, do it.”

“Will he send them for wine?” thought Lois. “J
heard Raphael say there was none to be had in Cana. He
may send even to Nazareth.” And Cyril exclaimed aloud:
“T will go with them.”

But at that moment the man Cyril felt so ready to obey
pointed to the great jars by the well and said :

“Will the water-pots with water.”

There had been many ceremonial washings that day, as
the guests of the wedding came and went, for not one
had gone in without pausing by the well. The water-pots
were therefore nearly empty, and it would require much
drawing to fill them.





“*TOIs, MY PITCHER 18 FULL OF WINE!’”







WINE FOR THE FEAST 41

“This must be done before he sends for the wine,” said
Lois. “His mother knows he has some.”

“Or she certainly would not have asked him to provide
some for the feast,” said Cyril, leaning over to lift his full
bucket from the well.

There was even some haste and a kind of excitement
among those whose ready hands were drawing and pour-
ing; and in a few minutes more the sunshine sparkled
upon brimming fullness in the last of the six jars.

“Now we are to go for the wine,” said Cyril.

“They can’t drink water at a wedding-feast,” thought
Lois.

There was a startled look upon every face around her, as
she glancedfrom one to another, for the next command was:

“Draw out, now, and bear to the governor of the
feast.”

Cyril could not account for the tremor he felt as he
dipped a pitcher into a water-pot, filled it, and lifted it,
and stepped away toward the house.

“Water, for the governor of the feast?” he thought.
“Water, to Ben Nassur himself? Does he mean to mock
the rabbi, because there is no wine?”

Still, he could hardly help looking into the pitcher in
his hands. Just behind him was Lois. Suddenly she
heard her brother exclaim: “Itis wine! Lois, my pitcher
is full of wine! Let me see yours.”

Down came her pitcher, and the two were placed side
by side.

3



AQ THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

“Qh, Cyril!” said Lois, “it is wine! Was that what
Jesus meant?”

“Tt must be,” said Cyril, in a low voice. Then, after a
pause, “ We must carry it in. Come!”

Behind them followed the line of servants. In a mo-
ment more the two tall, slender pitchers were deposited
before Isaac Ben Nassur, at the head of the table. It was
his duty, as ruler of the feast, to critically taste each new
supply of refreshments provided, and now he quickly
filled a drinking-vessel, for a hint of the threatened
scarcity had reached him.

Cyril and Lois, and behind them the servants of the
house, with Mary and Hannah and several others, gazed
expectantly upon the face of the rabbi, waiting for his
opinion. A little distance from him, at his right, pale and
red by turns with anxiety, stood his son, the bridegroom.
To him Ben Nassur turned, well pleased and radiant, but
still somewhat judicial, as became the ruler of the feast,
and remarked:

“Every man, at the beginning, doth set forth good
wine, and when they have well drunk, then that which is
worse; but thou hast kept the good wine until now.”

So it was said by all. It was as if it had been recently
pressed from the best grapes of the vintage.

“ Qyril!” exclaimed Lois, as they hurried out, so awed
that they were almost frightened, “it was water, and it
became wine!”

“What will the people say?” said Cyril. “I wish I
dared to ask him if he is to be our king.”



CHAPTER VI
CAPERNAUM

OW great was the wonder of the guests who drank
H the good wine at the marriage-feast when they
learned that the pitchers must have been filled from the
well in front of Ben Nassur’s house.

The rabbi himself had not been among those who stood
at the well. He had only seen the wine brought to him
in pitchers. But Mary and Hannah, the men who came
with Jesus, the house-servants, and a few others, well
knew the water had been changed into wine.

Cyril and Lois had no opportunity to discuss the mat-
ter until late that evening.

A sleeping-place, even for Lois, had to be found at the
house of a neighbor; and the best that could be done for
Cyril was to give him the freedom of the flat roof of
Isaac’s own home.

It was no hardship to sleep there, during a warm night.
Cyril and his sister went up to the roof while yet the
sounds of merriment, the music, and the singing, came up

from the marriage-festival below.
43



44 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

It was a beautiful night, and the roof was cool and
quiet.

Cyril came up first, and he stood at a corner leaning
over the stone parapet, when Lois joined him.

“T cannot be mistaken,” said Cyril, as if thinking aloud.
“T poured the water into that jar, and I saw it was wine
when I took it out in my pitcher, and carried it into the
house to Ben Nassur. All the servants saw that there
was water in the pitchers first, and afterward there was
wine.”

“Tt is true. So it was in mine,” said Lois, who had
come to his side. “They all go to Capernaum to-morrow.
Jesus of Nazareth means to live there. His mother will,
too, for a while. Then she returns to her own house, at
Nazareth. I wish I could live with her.”

“T would like to know what sort of work I can find to
do while I am there,” exclaimed Cyril.

“T know what I am going to do, I think,” said Lois.
“There is a woman named Abigail the tallith-maker, who
lives there. Some of the women at the wedding told me
she wants a girl who knows something of the trade to
work for her. I learned needle-work while I was staying
in Samaria.”

“Thou didst very good work,” said Cyril. “There is
more to do in Capernaum than there is here. Ill find
some work.”

“Most of the people are fishing-folk,” said Lois. “The
lake is full of fish.”



CAPERNAUM 45

“Sometimes little is taken, they say,” replied Cyril.
“But I must try it. I long to see Jesus of Nazareth, and
he will be there. What did he mean by the words he said
to his mother —‘ Mine hour is not yet come.’ ”

“T do not know; I did not understand them. I mean
to be with her, part of the time, while she remains there,”
replied Lois. “TI go to Capernaum, to-morrow, with her
and her friends.”

“Tam glad,” said Cyril, “I will go, too. Jesus is to stay
in Cana, for a day or two, but I ll come.”

Lois bade her brother good-night, and Cyril was alone
_ upon the roof.

“T wish father could see this man, Jesus of Nazareth,”
the boy said to himself. “Father is an experienced old
soldier, and has been a captain. He would know what
the people might expect of him.”

Ezra the Swordmaker had studied carefully, and had
talked with his son about the ways and means for collect-
ing, equipping, and arming a force of patriotic Jews such
as might, at some future day, drive out the Romans and
destroy the power of Herod.

At last Cyril went to sleep, but when he awoke, in the
morning, his head was still full of the arrangements for
his proposed journey from Cana to Capernaum.

Lois also was making ready, and both Rabbi Isaac and
his wife were entirely satisfied with the plans of their
young relatives. There would be more room in the some-
what overcrowded house in Cana. As for the transfer of



46 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

Mary’s residence from Nazareth to Capernaum, for a sea-
son, such temporary removals were not at all uncommon
among the Jewish people.

Only two days later, and while yet the wedding festivi-
ties continued in the house of Isaac, Cyril and Lois reached
Capernaum. Their little baggage was carried by one don-
key, while Lois rode another, and the hire of these ani-
mals made the first large draft upon the money Cyril had
received from his father.

The direct distance from Cana was only about twelve
miles, but the road so wound among hills as to make it
longer. Both brother and sister felt they had never
before seen so beautiful a country, and when at last they
came out in sight of Chinnereth, or the Sea of Galilee,
they understood why the rabbis declared: “God made
seven seas in the land of Canaan, but chose for himself
only one —the Sea of Galilee.”

The lake itself was beautiful, and the shores were lined
with cities, larger or smaller, or with palaces whose
grounds and gardens came down to the water’s edge. Ca-
pernaum was a well-built and prosperous place at some
distance from the shore, but there were no buildings
along the beach near it; only boat-wharves, here and
there, little more than mere landing-places in the little
bays which indented the long, curving shore-line.

The region was a kind of fisherman’s paradise; and
around it was also a rich farming country, with a climate
so mild that even figs and grapes ripened during ten













CYRIL AND LOIS ON THEIR WAY TO CAPERNAUM.







CAPERNAUM 49

months of the year, and the fruits of temperate and tropi-
eal regions grew luxuriantly, side by side. The popula-
tion was dense, and it was a continual marvel that the
lake was not fished out, so numerous were the fishermen
and so heavy were the catches. All the country around
furnished them a market, and Cyril was assured that he
would find enough to do, but that his wages would barely
support him; so he was glad when Lois was kindly wel-
comed by Abigail the tallith-maker. This woman made
other garments worn by the people among whom she
lived, and it was of importance to her that the brother of
her new assistant was a youth whose training under so
good a smith as Hzra enabled him to mend her needles of
all sizes. No doubt even the very smallest of them would
seem both coarse and clumsy to the eyes of a modern
seamstress.

Cyril, from the hour of his coming, was full of the idea
which had brought him to Capernaum; and it may have
been his eagerness to see and hear Jesus of Nazareth
which brought him into acquaintance with Simon and
Andrew, and several other men. Soon after his arrival
he told Lois:

“The people around the lake know more about Jesus
than is known at Nazareth. He teaches and preaches
here and all come to hear him. They believe about the
turning of the water into wine more readily than some
of those who saw the water drawn and carried into the
house.”



50 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

Lois could hardly have told how happy she was. She
was not conscious that she had ever been at all afraid of
so wise and learned a man as Rabbi Ben Nassur, but she
felt more at ease now she was not near him. Besides,
during several weeks she was often with Mary and her
son. She sat at her work in the quiet house dreaming
over the stories that were told her of the carpenter’s son.
Some of them went back to the very cradle of Jesus, and
this, as Lois now knew, had been a manger in a cattle
stable, in Bethlehem of Judea.

None of these stories had been written down, but Lois
learned them all by heart, and she would think of them
whenever she saw Jesus or heard him teach.

Cyril had thoughts and dreams of his own very differ-
ent from hers, for his spirit was becoming more and more
warlike. He saw that Jesus had been making himself
well known in many places, and would soon be widely
talked of. It was the right thing to do, if he was ever to
raise an army among the Galileans. So Cyril considered
it his own duty to seize upon every opportunity for study-
ing, as his father had bidden him, the fortifications of the
towns and cities near the lake, and for witnessing mili-
tary parades and marches, and for examining weapons of
all sorts and whatever else could be made use of in war —
in the war of Jews against Romans, in which he hoped
to be a soldier.



CHAPTER VII
JERUSALEM

OMETHING in the air of the beautiful country
Ss around the Sea of Galilee seemed to give its people
tranquillity. Everybody was busy, indeed, and it was not
difficult to earn a living where the needs of all were so
simple. There was no contentment, however, for the
yoke of the Roman foreigner pressed heavily, and so did
the oppressions of Herod Antipas, whom no Jew could
regard but as a foreigner, although his mother had been
a Jewess. Hvery act of brutal cruelty and every merci-
less exaction which the Galileans suffered helped to keep
them in mind of the prophecies of future freedom.

There had never been a time when all Jews were so
busy with thoughts concerning the coming of the Mes-
‘ siah, and their fixed idea was that he was to be a glorious
conqueror and king, one greater than David or Solomon,
one who was to make the Jews the foremost nation on
the earth.

Lois and Cyril saw each other almost daily, and all
their thoughts and talk were about their father. They
longed to know what had become of him, but there were
no tidings.

51



52 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

“T wish father could come and see the Teacher and
hear him,” said Cyril, one day. He and Lois had been
talking of the subject which was uppermost in the minds
of the people, and Cyril had been studying the stockade
at the Roman camp.

Lois was thoughtfully silent, and he went on:

“Father ought to be getting ready, if there is ever to
be a rising against the Romans. He knows hosts of men
all over the country. He knows old fighting men, and
they know him. He could get them together, too, when-
ever the right time comes. Oh, if his right hand were
sound, what things he could do!”

“The Nazarene is not often in Capernaum now,” said
Lois. “He is teaching and preaching among the villages,
everywhere, and so many go to hear him.”

“T wish I could see him do some new wonder!” ex-
claimed Cyril. “They ‘ll forget all about the wine at
Cana. I met aman who was at the wedding, and he said
he thought I was mistaken in what was done.”

For some undeclared reason, the Teacher, as all men
except the rabbis called Jesus, was only teaching and
preaching among the towns around the head of the lake.
He was becoming widely known, however, as those who
heard him carried news of his discourses, and as yet he
had not made enemies.

The days and weeks wore on until the autumn went
by, and then the winter, of that mild climate. The land
grew green again with the swift growth of the spring



JERUSALEM 53

crops. The time drew near for the annual Passover
Feast, and every year a host of pious Galileans — all who
were able — were sure to celebrate it at Jerusalem. When
it was announced that Jesus of Nazareth and his disciples
intended to go, most who heard it took it as a matter of
course, but it aroused enthusiasm in Cyril. “I am going,”
he said to Lois. “I cannot take thee this time; we have
not money enough. But I must be with him at Jerusa-
lem. Who knows what great works he will do when he
gets there? Isaac Ben Nassur is going, and the Cana
people.” :

“T wish I might go with thee!” said Lois. “Thou
canst not wish to go more than Ido. I want to see Jeru-
salem —I want to see the Temple. I long to see what the

. Master will do there.”

“T wish I could take thee with me,” said Cyril. “We
will try to have more money for the journey next year.
But he surely will not yet try to take Jerusalem; I do
not think there will be any fighting this time. I do not
see how he ever can take that great city; it is so strong.
But he must take it some day, if he is the predicted king.
Father says there will be a terrible battle, and Iam to be
in it. Our captain will have to raise an army from all
over the country.”

Lois made no reply to that. She had never been able
to think as Cyril did of the Teacher. She could not
imagine him with a sword in his hand, fighting other men.

One of Cyril’s ideas had been that the journey of Jesus



54 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

of Nazareth to Jerusalem would be like a royal progress,
and that he would preach to crowds along the way as he
was accustomed to do in Galilee. But Cyril was mis-
taken, for the Teacher traveled both quietly and rapidly.
As for the boy himself, he believed he was safe in cross-
ing the district of Samaria, so completely was he hidden
among the crowds of Passover pilgrims. From these pil-
grims the Samaritans kept away, and to them the Roman
soldiers paid no manner of attention. The weather was
glorious; not too warm for traveling, except in the middle
of the day; and all the country was in bloom and green.

The Passover was to be eaten on the fifteenth day of
the month Nisan, or April; but earlier than that multi-
tudes began to gather at Jerusalem, from all parts of the
world; for there were great preparations to be made be-
forehand. Some of these had reference to food and
lodgings, but even more were connected with the sacrifices
to be offered in the Temple.

The Temple, crowning a high hill, and visible from a
great distance, was in a vast inclosure of strongly fortified
walls. Within this there were several minor inclosures,
separated by walls and by gates which were themselves
important features of the gilded splendor of the most
costly and beautiful place of worship on all the earth.

These inner inclosures were called “ courts,” and opened
into one another. Beyond the outer court, none save
those known to be Jews could enter, and they only after
ceremonial preparation. Nevertheless, the outer court,



JERUSALEM 55

just within the Temple wall, was part of the Temple, the
“sacred. place,” the “house of God.” Because others than
Jews were permitted to enter, it was called the Court of
the Heathen or Gentiles. According to the Scriptures,
and all the teachings of the rabbis, this court was holy.
Into it nothing unclean could be brought. In it nothing
could be bought or sold, nor could any trade be carried
on there. The entire area, and not a part only, was
solemnly consecrated and set apart for worship. Never-
theless, so bad had become the management of the Temple
affairs by the priests and other rulers, that during four
weeks before the Passover all the laws were set aside, and
this court was rented out to dealers in cattle and all sorts
of merchandise, and to brokers who exchanged current
coins — such as Jewish shekels and half-shekels — for the
foreign coins brought by worshipers from other countries.
The holy place, therefore, was lined with cattle-pens, the
booths of tradesmen, the tables of money-changers, coops
of doves, while droves of cattle and sheep, and swarms of
buyers and sellers, shouting, jostling, bargaining, and
even quarreling, turned the entire court into a sort of fair,
where a vast amount of cheating, extortion, bribery, and
other mischief went on continually.

If Cyril had heard of all this desecration of the Temple,
he thought no more of it than did others, for it was a
thing to which even those who condemned it had become
accustomed.

The road from the north, by which the Galileans came,



56 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

must wind among the hills as it nears Jerusalem, but at
last, just after the city comes in sight, the road descends
into a valley. When that is passed, there is a long ascent
to the great gate in the high and massive wall that then
guarded the capital of Judea.

Cyril’s eagerness increased as he drew nearer, and at
last the long procession of pilgrims he was with reached
the ridge of the Mount of Olives, and he could see the
city.

“Jerusalem is glorious!” he exclaimed. ‘ What mas-
sive walls, and great towers! They say there is a whole
legion of Roman soldiers camped near the city, and that
the garrison inside is always very strong at Passover
time. What can our Nazarene do with them? He is
going into the city.”

Hardly a pause was made, indeed, by the Teacher and
his friends. They were not hindered at the gate, and
Cyril hardly allowed himself to wonder at the palaces and
forts and other splendors as he followed close after Jesus
of Nazareth up the steep street that led to the Temple.
It would have taken him or anybody long enough to tell
of what he saw by the way; the throngs of people from
every nation he had ever heard of, the many different
kinds of dress, the horses and their trappings, the cha-
riots, the flowers and fruits, the shops and merchandise,
the women in bright colors, the slaves, the soldiers in
their armor, the men whom he knew to be gladiators,
trained to fight in the terrible arena outside of the walls.





‘* JERUSALEM IS GLORIOUS!’”







JERUSALEM 59

It was still early in the forenoon of the bright April day
when the Teacher passed into the outer court of the
Temple. His face took on an expression of sadness and
severity as he gazed upon the scene of traffic and con-
fusion before him.

Only for a few moments, however, did Jesus linger and
look. His friends from Galilee, as many as were with
him, may have had errands of their own among the buy-
ers and sellers, for when he suddenly turned and walked
away out of the court, he went almost alone, only Cyril
following, at a little distance, half breathless with awe
and with an intense anxiety as to what might be about
to come.



CHAPTER VIII
THE SCOURGE OF SMALL CORDS

N the city of Jerusalem, as in other Oriental cities, the
several trades were not in every quarter, but the deal-
ers in different wares generally kept separate. Cyril could
not have found his own way to any quarter, but he could
follow his captain, as he considered him, to a narrow
street near by, mainly occupied by dealers in rope, cord-
age, and similar wares. There were also tent-makers in
that street, and it was by the shop of one of these that
the Teacher halted.

Hanging in front of the booth were quantities of the
small, strong, tough cords used for tent fastenings; and
Cyril wondered to see the Teacher buy some of these.

Cyril and the dealer looked on with more than a little
curiosity. A bunch of the cords were at first cut into
lengths, and then the Teacher plaited them into a kind
of whip, half as large at its beginning as a man’s wrist.

Swiftly he worked and dexterously; and Cyril watched
him from a little distance.

The whip, or “scourge,” was soon finished; and he who
60



THE SCOURGE OF SMALL CORDS 61

made it rolled it up and silently strode away toward the
Temple, whither Cyril followed him.

Through the great gate and into the outer court they
went, past the glittering ranks of Roman legionaries
posted there to put down any Jewish tumult; the hub-
bub of buying and selling was before them.

It seemed to be at its height. The unseemly disorder
was even louder than usual. Sheep bleated, fowls crowed,
cattle bellowed, men shouted to one another.

“What will he do?” exclaimed Cyril, for now the whip
was raised above the head of the Master. Stern indeed
was his face at that moment, as he drove forth the chaffer-
ing throng. Loud bellowed the beasts as they fled in
terror, and loudly, for a moment, shouted their astonished
and angry owners.

“They will turn and stone him!” was one quick
thought in Cyril’s mind; but it vanished.

Not even the cattle and the sheep fled more unresist-
ingly than did the human beings from before that scourge
and from the rebuking face of him who wielded it. The
dealers in fowls caught up their coops and cages to hurry
them away, but no such escape was permitted to the deal-
ers in money. A moment before they had been sitting,
in their customary insolent security, behind their tables,
upon which were piled the various coins they dealt in.
Of all the thieves who polluted the Temple they were the
worst offenders. A punishment came to these men that
they could feel more deeply than even the scourge, for

4



62 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

the Teacher grasped the nearest table and scattered the
ringing coins on the marble pavement, as he said:

“Take these things hence; make not my Father’s house
a house of merchandise.”

Cyril thought for a moment of the armed guards of the
Temple. They were there, truly, but this was a matter
that seemed to concern the Jews and their religion — not
the guards at all, for the guards were Romans.

There was nothing, apparently, for Cyril to do, nor for
any man of the throng which was now gathering behind
the Teacher. His own disciples were there, and a fast-
increasing throng of sturdy Galileans, whose faces showed
hearty approval of his course.

So the buying.and selling which had so long polluted
the outer court of the Temple came to anend. Oyril was
a Jewish boy, and he could perfectly understand the ac-
clamations that were arising so noisily on all sides. He
knew that the Teacher from Nazareth had only acted in
accordance with the public opinion and the religious feel-
ing of the Jewish people. Every rabbi and every pious
Israelite would surely approve of what had been done.

“But the priests and the rulers — what will they think
of it?” — was a question in Cyril’s mind, and others felt
as he did, for he heard one of the disciples say to another :

“Ttis written, ‘The zeal of thy house hath eaten me up.’”

The only criticism came from one of the Jewish by-
standers, speaking as if for the others. He said, as
questioning the Master’s authority:





THE MONEY-CHANGERS AND DEALERS EXPELLED FROM THE TEMPLE.







THE SCOURGE OF SMALL CORDS 65

“What sign shewest thou unto us, seeing that thou
doest these things?”

It sounded like an entirely reasonable question, con-
sidering what a responsibility had been taken in enforcing
the Temple law of holiness entirely without the authority
of priest or ruler, and the reply was:

“Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it
up.”

It did not appear to be an answer. It did not offer even
the sign demanded, for nobody could or would destroy
the Temple; and the questioner responded :

“Forty and six years was this temple in building, and
wilt thou rear it up in three days?”

No more was said, but many were beginning to treasure
the utterances of the Galilean Teacher, and this saying
of his was not forgotten. Cyril could not then, nor for
long afterward, have understood at all, if he had been
told that Jesus really spoke of the temple of his own body.
But in later times his answer was thus explained. All
Cyril then knew was that the expulsion of the money-
changers was a proof of power by one who would soon,
he fully believed, draw the sword of a military leader,
and become a captain of the house of Israel.

Just then he heard a voice behind him in tones of
strong approval:

“We has done well. He is forthe Law. He is of the
house of David; he should be zealous for the Law.”

Cyril turned to look into the glowing face of Isaac Ben



66 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

Nassur. The cleansing of the Temple was in accordance
with the strict principles of the learned rabbi, and Isaac’s
next words to Cyril were both cordial and affectionate :

“Come thou with us. Thou shalt eat thy Passover
lamb with thine own kindred. Thou belongest with us.”

This invitation was in keeping with Jewish custom, and
Cyril went with Isaac. He felt himself, however, a very
insignificant addition to the party, which included some
of the most dignified men of Cana.

Isaac’s wife, Hannah, was with him, and there were
other women belonging to the several families repre-
sented.

There were yet two days to be spent before the Pass-
over itself; and Cyril at first knew hardly what to do
with them. He heard, however, that the chief priests and
the rulers of the Temple had immediately issued orders
that the outer court of the Temple should be kept abso-
lutely clear of everything and everybody prohibited by
the Law.

A complete victory had therefore been gained. As for
the Romans, or any other heathen, they did not care how
strict might be the religious notions of anybody who did
not meddle with their power to govern Judea and to
collect the taxes.

Cyril’s main idea, as soon as his mind began to clear a
little, was to find out all he could about the Roman power.
As he learned its extent, his respect for it grew. With
the dawn of each day, he was out from among his friends,



THE SCOURGE OF SMALL CORDS 67

bent upon learning all about Jerusalem. They, too, had
much that required their attention, and did not give him
a thought.

The walls were so high that it seemed impossible for
any enemy to get over them. There were towers, and
there were guards at all the gates. The castles and forts
were so many and so strong, and the soldiers were go
warlike, so well trained, the city seemed unconquerable.

It made Cyril’s heart sink, the day before the Passover,
when he went out by the Roman camp and saw a legion
of the men who had overcome the armies of all nations
drawn up in glittering ranks to be reviewed by their offi-
cers, and by some great men who were there from Rome,
and by some visiting princes from other provinces who
were guests of the rulers of Judea. He asked himself
sadly, how could the coming king of Israel gather a force |
strong enough to withstand the Roman legions, of which
so many could be sent against him, or how could he
drive them out of such a stronghold as the walled city
Jerusalem ?



CHAPTER Ix
HEROD’S AMPHITHEATER

HE Passover feast was eaten with all solemnity, and
Cyril went with Ben Nassur and his friends, before
and afterward, to witness the Temple sacrifices and to
take part in the grand ceremonies. He heard the priests
and Levites chant the psalms; he saw the smoke go up
from the altars. It seemed to him that he had never be-
fore had any idea of what it was to be a Jew and to have
a right in Jerusalem, the City of the Great King, the Holy
Place, to which all the nations of the world were one day
to come and worship. It was to be a wonderful kingdom ;
but, somehow, the more he thought about it and the more
he saw, the smaller grew the idea which had brought him
to the feast — the idea that Jesus of Nazareth was really
the king who was to come. It had not seemed so in-
credible while he was among the hills of Galilee.

During the few days before Ben Nassur and his friends
were to set out for home, Cyril saw hardly anything of
the Teacher. On one of those days he went to the amphi-
theater, the circus which Herod the Great had built, at

some distance from the city. He paid for a seat in one
68







“THERE WERE CONTESTS BETWEEN SWORDSMEN.”







HEROD’S AMPHITHEATER ral

of the upper galleries. On the tiers of seats below him
were all sorts of people, and far away, on the opposite
side of the vast arena, the sandy level in the middle, he
saw, in the lower tier, a canopied place that was furnished
magnificently. In it there were throne-seats, and on them
sat King Herod Antipas, Pontius Pilatus, the Roman
governor, two Roman generals, with other distinguished
men, and a number of richly dressed women, some of
whom wore brilliant tiaras or coronets upon their heads.
He stared at them for a few minutes, and at the tremen-
dous throng of people, but after that he thought only of
what was going on in the arena.

There were chariot races; and Cyril could not help
being intensely excited by the mad rush of the contend-
ing teams, while all the thousands who looked on shouted
and raved. After the races, however, came scenes some
of which made him shudder. There were foot-races and
boxing-matches, but these were soon over, and then there
were contests between pairs of swordsmen, spearmen, club-
men, and the like, in which the fights went on until one of
the combatants was slain. Close upon the last of these
duels, bands of gladiators marched in from opposite sides
of the arena, and charged each other like detachments of
soldiers upon a real battle-field. The fighting was furious
and desperate, but one side was soon beaten, for the par-
ties had not been equal. One party had been trained
warriors, professional gladiators, and the other only com-
mon men, captives taken in a recent raid of Pilate’s sol-



72 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

diers upon a wild tribe beyond the Dead Sea. They were
brave enough, but they were put there only to be killed
for the amusement of the great men and of the multitude.
So were the poor victims with whom the day’s exhibition
closed, for they were driven into the arena, half armed,
to contend as best they could with a number of hungry
lions, tigers, leopards, and hyenas, which were loosed upon
them from their dens under the tiers of seats.

“Oh!” thought Cyril, “if our king were to come, he
would never permit such cruelty as this! I ought not to
be here! I will not come again!”

It was no place for him, and yet he had all the while
been thinking of some things that he had seen, and of
more that he had heard, of the dealings of Herod and
of the Romans with such Jews as had offended them.

“They seem,” he said to himself, “to enjoy putting our
people to death, just as they enjoy the suffering of cap-
tives and gladiators in the circus. The king will drive
out these wicked Romans when he comes and takes the
kingdom.”

Cyril had something new to hear that night, his last
night in Jerusalem. Rabbi Isaac, during the first few
days after his arrival, had had a hard time of it; so many
people had inquired of him concerning Jesus of Naza-
reth, the Galilean Teacher, and particularly about the
wonder performed at Isaac’s house, in turning water into
wine. The rabbi had firmly declared all he knew, but the
dread of having to tell it over and over had inclined him



HEROD’S AMPHITHEATER 73

to keep away from questioners. Of any other marvelous
things which had been done in Galilee he knew nothing.
Neither did Cyril, but now something entirely new and
positive had come. The Nazarene, as some men called
Jesus, had been healing sick people in Jerusalem during
the Passover season — not a few, but many. His fame
was growing rapidly, and the Passover pilgrims would
carry news of him not only to every corner of the land
of Canaan, but to other lands—to the very ends of the
earth.

Ben Nassur said that he wished he had seen some of
these marvelous cures; but his regret was slight compared
to that of Cyril.

“T did not think he would heal the sick in the city,” he
said. “Yet I might have known the Teacher would do
wonderful works. But I have learned all about Jeru-
salem.”

“Thou hast done well enough,” said Isaac. “Thou art
only a youth. What wonder he has healed the sick? He
is of the house of David. He is now a rabbi, truly. But
Nathanael is wrong, for he is not the coming king of
Israel. They will never anoint him. No, no, my son;
he will never be the Anointed.”

Cyril was silent. Ben Nassur had spoken in Hebrew,
and the words he used, “the Anointed,” were the very
words which, translated through the Greek and Latin
tongues into our own, are “the Christ.”

Cyril went to sleep that night with the determination



TA THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

to cease his sight-seeing about the city. He would keep
as close as he could to the Teacher, so that he might see
him do works as remarkable as that which he had done
at Cana.

Perhaps Isaac had formed a like purpose, but it was too
late, for almost the first words Cyril heard from him the
next morning were these:

“The son of Joseph of Nazareth hath departed for
Galilee. It is time for us also to go. Get thee ready.
We shall see, now, what he will do in his own country.”

It was all in vain that Ben Nassur and his friends pre-
pared in haste, for Jesus and his disciples were a day’s
journey on their way. As for Cyril, he felt that a mis-
fortune had befallen him!

“T long to see the wonderful works he is doing,” he
thought; “and I shall not be with him.”

And indeed many were healed all along the homeward
way. Ben Nassur and those who were with him heard
accounts of these events from place to place. He had
worked wonders even at and near Samaria. When they
reached Cana, the Master had been there already. He
had preached there, and he had healed the sick; then he
had gone onward toward Capernaum.

“My son,” said the rabbi to Cyril, with great dignity
of manner, “I will go to Capernaum myself. There have
been many rabbis who have healed the sick. It is won-
derful, but I have heard of such marvels; yet it is my
duty to see it done.”



HEROD’S AMPHITHEATER 75

So the wise and learned rabbi hardly paused in his
journey save to sleep one night at his own house in
Cana. He even bade Cyril go forward that very evening,
promising to follow in the morning.

“Tt will be the sixth day,” he said. “I must be in
Capernaum to hear him preach in the synagogue on the
Sabbath.”

“Simon is living at Capernaum now,” said Cyril.
“Thou wilt find me at his house. I shall see Lois, too,
and she will tell me all she has heard about the Teacher,
and where he is to preach.”



CHAPTER X
IN CAPERNAUM

\ HEN Cyril reached Capernaum he did not find

Lois at the house of Abigail. He went there at
once, only to be told that his sister had gone to the house
of Simon Peter to help, for his wife’s mother was.sick.

Simon’s house was toward the sea; and even before
Cyril reached the house he learned that Jesus had not yet
returned to Capernaum. He was preaching in one of the
neighboring villages, and would not be in his own town
again before the Sabbath.

Lois had watched for her brother when the time for
Cyril’s arrival drew near, and he found her waiting for
him in the porch of Simon’s house. Her face seemed sad,
too, in spite of the pleasure she felt at seeing him.

“T am so glad thou art here,” she said, in her very
earnest welcome. “I hope that the Teacher will come!
She is so sick, I think she will die. Where didst thou
leave him?”

Cyril had a wonderful story to tell, but he did not tell
it to Lois alone. Even Simon’s wife left her mother for

a moment, and came out of the house, and some of her
76



IN CAPERNAUM nts

friends came with her. The nearer neighbors had seen
Cyril arrive, and they gathered about him to learn the
news, according to the custom of village folk. He was
quickly the center of a little group of questioners and
hearers, old and young, and to them he related the clear-
ing of the Temple by the Teacher of Galilee. Yet they
were not so much impressed by the stories of cures, for
these Cyril had heard of but had not seen.

“Thou shouldst have remained with him,” said Lois,
reproachfully. “Then thou couldst have told us more of
what he did.”

“He will be here on the Sabbath,” replied Cyril. “Ye
will then see for yourselves what he will do.”

“Fe will not cure anybody on the Sabbath,” remarked
one of his hearers. “We must wait until next week.”

The people separated, and Cyril went into the house;
but the questions of Lois had only begun. As they went
in, however, she pointed toward the door of the sick room
and whispered:

“Tf the Master could cure her! We think she cannot
live. I wish he would come! He does not even know she
is sick. Simon is with him, and perhaps even he has not
yet heard of her sickness.”

Cyril sympathized with her thoroughly, but as he turned
to go, he exclaimed again:

“ois, if thou hadst but seen him in the Temple. He
fears no one. I hope that he will be our leader against
the Romans.”



78 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

Cyril believed that the time for him to be a soldier was
drawing near. All through that night he dreamed of
marching legions and of battle-fields. When the next
morning came he went out to find that the people of Ca-
pernaum were waiting in a state of impatient expectation
for the arrival of the man whom some of them called
“The Prophet of Galilee.”

The Sabbath began with the evening of our Friday, and
the sun set without the arrival of any further tidings
except that the Teacher might be expected to preach in
the synagogue on the next day. During that sixth day
Lois was too busy for more than a brief talk with her
brother, but she was waiting even more eagerly than he.

Sabbath morning came, and the hour (about nine o’clock
of our time) for the synagogue services drew near, but
Ben Nassur had not been seen in Capernaum. Cyril pre-
pared to go early, but Lois was to remain at Simon’s
house. She was sincerely glad to be there and to help,
but she could not help saying to herself: “I wish I could
be at the synagogue, and that I could see and hear him!”

The first thing that Cyril saw to interest him that Sab-
bath morning was the throng passing along the street
toward the synagogue, with the Teacher. He had walked
several miles to reach the synagogue, and some of his
followers had come all the way with him.

“There is Ben Nassur,” exclaimed Cyril. “But who
is that behind him?”

The very strict rabbi had strained a point and had





RABBI BEN NASSUR AND THE THRONG BEFORE THE HOUSE OF SIMON PETER.







IN CAPERNAUM 81

walked further than the Law allowed on the Sabbath, in
order to attend these synagogue services. The throng
was dense, so that the Teacher and his disciples advanced
slowly. Among the crowd walked a tall, haggard, wild-
eyed man, to whom no other spoke, and from whose
parched and panting lips no sound was uttered.

“Ts he insane?” whispered Cyril to Ben Nassur, when
they met and when the rabbi had greeted his young
kinsman.

“Not so,” responded Ben Nassur. “He hath a demon,
itis said. Such cases are more and more numerous, now-
adays. Only the chief priests can aid these sufferers —
they and the most learned rabbis.”

Cyril had heard that even the rabbis and the priests
avoided undertaking to remedy these evils, which some
called casting out unclean spirits, and he asked the
question, “What is this they call a ‘demon’?”

“No man knoweth,” calmly replied the rabbi. “But I
have thought that Herod hath one,” he added thought-
fully.

During all the usual opening services the Teacher sat
in silence, but afterward a parchment copy of the Scrip-
tures was handed him, and he read from it several pas-
sages. Then he rolled up the parchment, handed it back
to its keeper and began to speak.

Cyril was leaning forward to listen, when he became
aware of a man moving close beside him, and a fierce face
was pushed toward his shoulder. Cyril shrank away, al-



82 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

most in fear, for now came a loud voice, as if some power
within the man spoke through his lips: “ Let us alone;
what have we to do with thee, thou Jesus of Nazareth?
art thou come to destroy us? I know thee, who thou art,
the Holy One of God.”

Ben Nassur had risen upon his feet, and so had other
men, in the intensity of their surprise and curiosity.

But there was no change in the manner of the Master,
except that he at once spoke, as if reprovingly :

“Hold thy peace, and come out of him.”

Down fell the man, as if some wrestler had thrown
him, but when, a moment later, he arose again, he was
found to be altogether himself, quiet and sane.

“Ts the demon gone?” exclaimed Cyril. “Where did
he go? What is he?”

“He is gone,” said a man who pushed close to him.
“But what a word is this! for with authority and power
he commandeth the unclean spirits, and they come out.”

Those who stood near Isaac Ben Nassur said afterward
that he seemed to be completely overawed by this
evidence of power.

As for Cyril, his first impulse was to go and tell Lois.
It was all the easier to go, because he could not now get
anywhere near the Master, and because the crowd was
slowly making its way out of the synagogue. He reached
the house of Simon, and Lois listened in silence to his
wonderful story; but she seemed to be thinking of
something else.



IN CAPERNAUM : 83

“Tam glad the man was cured,” she said. “Why can-
not the Master do something for the people of this
house?”

Cyril did not make any reply, for up the street toward
Simon’s house, at that moment, was coming the crowd
that accompanied the Teacher.

“T believe he is coming to see her,” whispered Lois.
“T hope he is.”

He reached the door, but did not pause there. He
walked through the main room, and was led into the
smaller one, where the sick woman lay.

Little enough could any Jewish physician do for the
sufferers from the malignant fevers bred by the marshes
around the Sea of Galilee. What would the Teacher do
in such a case? What comfort could he give to the poor
woman who lay there tossing and moaning?

The Teacher was now standing by the sick woman, but
neither Cyril nor Lois caught the few words that he

. uttered as he took the sufferer by the hand, and raised
her gently. He did not seem to be speaking to her, but
Lois exclaimed, joyfully :

“Cyril, Cyril! The fever has left her. She is cured.
She is well!”

And indeed the matron so suddenly restored to health
was quickly out among her kinsfolk. Her very gladness
for her recovery at once expressed itself, moreover, in
her zeal for the hospitable entertainment of him who had
cured her, and of her thronging guests.

5



84 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

Not far from the outer doorway stood Isaac Ben Nas-
sur. His face expressed both wonder and disapproval.
He, at least, remembered what so many others had for-
gotten—that this was the Sabbath day, a day upon
which not even such ministration to the sick was per-
mitted by the rabbis.



CHAPTER XI

THE CAVE OF ADULLAM

HE law of the seventh day of the week, as inter-
preted by the rabbis, enjoined a quiet Sabbath after-
noon. During the hours when perfect rest was observed,
however, the news of the Teacher’s power to heal spread
rapidly from house to house; and people everywhere
made ready to claim his aid as soon as the Law would
let them.

Ben Nassur had been consulted by several persons,
and, among other wise remarks, he had said:

“T did not see the water changed into wine. Neither
did I see this woman cured. She was cured, she got up,
and came out. JI know no more than that. I do not say
yet what it is best for the people to think or believe
concerning this Teacher.”

When the sun went down everybody in Capernaum
was listening for the trumpet, in front of the synagogue,
to tell them that the Sabbath hours were over.

At length came the signal to the clustered homes of the
city, and to the scattered dwellings of the fisher-folk
along the shore. It was heard by rich and poor alike, by

85



86 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

sick and well, and from every direction they went in a
swelling tide toward the open space in front of the house
of Simon.

Tt was still daylight when Cyril and Lois stood and
watched the Master and the people.

“He laid his hands on every one of them, and healed
them,” said Lois, as she and Cyril walked away, for the
darkness came on, and the crowd was dispersing. “ Cyril,
I heard some voices crying, ‘Thou art the Anointed!’
and as if answering them I heard the voice of the Teacher
reproving and forbidding them.”

“Tt is not time yet,” said Cyril. “If the Romans sus-
pected that he was the King, and was to be anointed over
all Israel, they would slay him.”

“Would they really slay him?” exclaimed Lois. “For
healing the sick?”

“ Not for that,” replied Cyril; “but for being the King,
to raise a rebellion. I mean to watch all night. If he
goes away, I must go with him. How I wish father were
here! He would know what to do!”

Neither his son nor his daughter knew where Ezra the
Swordmaker was; but it was many and many a long mile
from Capernaum. With a number of companions he was
in hiding within a great cave.

It was exceedingly dark, excepting in one spot. That
also was gloomy and strange enough. A cresset, or
basket made of thin strips of iron, for holding embers to



THE CAVE OF ADULLAM 87

give light, swung at the end of a chain that hung from a
dim frame-work high above the ground. The cresset was
about two yards above a mass of iron, smooth on top,
which could be recognized as a rude but serviceable anvil.
This was indicated also by a brickwork forge, a bellows,
hammers, charcoal, and ashes, with other evidences of the
blacksmith’s trade.

The place was neither untenanted nor silent. Not far
from the anvil sat or lay the party of bearded men, to
whom a voice, deep and solemn, was rehearsing the story
of the doings at Jerusalem during the Passover week,
the cleansing of the Temple, and the teachings of the bold
prophet from Nazareth of Galilee.

It was an exciting and wonderful story, for it contained,
though with some exaggerations, all the tales brought to
Jerusalem by the enthusiastic men of Galilee. The name
of Rabbi Ben Nassur and the wonder of the wine at the
marriage feast were by no means omitted. Dark faces,
bronzed and scarred, upon which the red light fell from
the fragments of resinous wood that were blazing in the
eresset, grew more striking in the earnestness with which
they listened.

Some turned to look at one another, or at the almost
unseen narrator, back among the shadows; but one
brawny form by the anvil never stirred. This man’s head
was bowed forward and the face could not be seen; but
one bare arm rested on the mass of iron, so that the hand
—a right hand —lay upon the pointed projection at one



88 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

end. It was a hand, truly, but twisted and gnarled out
of all shape, and its very fingers were shrunken to little
more than the bones.

“Men and brethren,” said the speaker, in conclusion,
“they call us robbers of the wilderness; disciples of John
the Baptizer; followers of the old faith.’ We who wait
for the hope of Israel know that John, indeed, is in prison.
He is bound in the deep dungeon of the fort of Mache-
rus. But this new prophet of Galilee, what shall we say
of him?”

There was silence for a moment, and then another voice
answered :

“Tet us go and ask John. They still permit us to
speak with him. Herod has shut John up, but dares not
harm him. I was with him, by the Jordan, when he bore
witness of this man of Galilee. Let us know from his
own lips what he will say of him now.”

Then spake the strong man by the anvil:

“Go ye to John. Iwill go to Galilee to inquire for my-
self. The boy who was with Rabbi Ben Nassur is my
own son. Perhaps he can tell me somewhat. I am of no
use here. I can ply the hammer no more. Ye must find
you another swordmaker. For if this is indeed the King,
the day of those who can draw the sword is not distant!”

Slowly he arose to his feet, and in a moment more Ezra
the armorer had disappeared in the gloom beyond the
red light from the cresset.



IN THE CAVE OF ADULLAM,





CyrRiIL” 125

ix
x LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

“ Cyrit SAT BY THE BOAT FOR A WHILE”

THE Rappl DENOUNCES CyRIL. “ ‘Get THEE HENcE!
THOU ART NO LONGER OF MY KINSMEN!’”

“THE TOWER CAME CRASHING, THUNDERING Down!”
“ “<¢WHat A SPLENDID SWORD!’ EXCLAIMED CYRIL”

““CyRIL,’ SAID A Low, SWEET VOICE NEAR Him, ‘LOOK
Up. FATHER AND I ARE HERE?”

“Fizra AT ONCE HELD OUT HIS STRONG AND PERFECT
Hanp”

“
“THe THRONG WAS LED BY JUDAS”

“THEY WERE Drawina Lots FOR THE SEAMLESS
VESTURE”

PAGE

139

149
157
165
181

199

225
249

267
THE SWORDMAKER’S SON


THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

CHAPTER I
THE FUGITIVES FROM SAMARIA

SCORE of mounted spearmen were galloping sharply
along the broad, well-kept highway that led past
the foot-hills of Mount Gilboa toward the southern gate
of the ancient city of Jezreel. The pattern of their bur-
nished helmets, and their arms and armor, indicated that
they were from the light cavalry of some Roman legion.
There was but little conversation among them, but as they
rode on enough was said by both officers and men to tell
that they were pursuing fugitives, whom they expected
soon to overtake.

“We shall cut them down before they reach Jezreel,”
came from a harsh voice in the ranks.

“Slay them not,” responded the foremost horseman.
“The old smith must be crucified, and the boy is wanted
for the circus.”

Less than a mile eastward from the highway and the

horsemen, under thick tree-shelter on the brow of a hill,
1
2 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

stood two persons who eagerly watched the passage of
the cavalry, and seemed to know their errand. One was
a well-crown, handsome youth, with dark, closely curling
hair, clear olive complexion, and eyes that were really
glittering in their brilliancy. He may have been some-
what over sixteen years of age; but that is no longer
boyhood among the nations of the East. The simple dress
that he wore —a sleeveless tunic of thin woolen cloth —
hardly concealed the lithe, sinewy form that seemed to
promise for him the suppleness of a young panther.
Over his left arm was thrown a loosely fitted linen gar-
ment—a kind of robe, to be put on when needed; and
on his feet were sandals. A leather belt around his waist
sustained a wallet.

The other person was a powerfully built, middle-aged
man, with a deeply lined, intelligent face. There was a
strong resemblance between the two, but there was one
marked difference. The features of the man were of the
highest type of the old Hebrew race, and his nose was
aquiline, while that of the boy was straight, and his lips
were thinner, as if in him the Hebrew and Greek races
had been merged into one.

The summer air was wonderfully pure and clear. The
two watchers could almost discern the trappings of the
cavalry horses, while the Carmel mountain ridges, far
across the plain of Esdraelon before them, rose above the
horizon with a distinctness impossible in any moister at-
mosphere. Behind them, eastward, were the forests and
THE FUGITIVES FROM SAMARIA 3

crags of Gilboa, and the elder of the fugitives turned and
anxiously scanned its broken outline.

They seemed to have escaped for a time, for the Roman
spearmen were galloping away steadily; and the young
man shook his clenched fist at them as he exclaimed:

“Ye wolves! We could have dared the Samaritan
mob, if it had not been for you.”

“But, Cyril, hearken,” responded his father, gloomily ;
“there were too many, even of the mob. There is but
one hope for us now. We are followed closely, and we
could not long be concealed here. I must flee into the
wilderness until this storm is over. It will pass. Go thou
to our kinsmen in Galilee. Go first to the house of Isaac
Ben Nassur, and see thy sister; but stay not long in
Cana. If thou art not safe in Galilee, go on and join one
of the bands in the fastnesses of Lebanon, or find thy
way to Ceesarea.”

“Nay, father,” exclaimed Cyril. “Lois is safe there in
Cana. It is better I should go with thee. Thou wilt need
me.”

His brave young face was flushed with intense earnest-
ness a she spoke. His father had been watching it with
eyes that were full of pride in his son, but he interrupted
him, almost sternly.

“Go, as I bid thee,” he said. “So shalt thou escape the
galleys or the sword. Whither I go, I know not; but
what becomes of me is of less importance, now that my
right hand has failed me.”
4 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

He stretched out his hand, and Cyril shuddered, al-
though he must often have seen it. Sinewy, remarkably
muscular as was the bare, bronzed arm, all below its
wrist was shriveled, distorted, withered, perhaps by rheu-
matism or some kindred affliction. The father’s face grew
dark and bitter as he added: “ Who, now, would believe
that this hand had led the men of Galilee when they slew
the soldiers of Herod the Great in the streets of Jerusalem ?
We were beaten? Ay, they outnumbered us; but how
they did go down! ’T was a great day —that old Pass-
over fight. I have smitten the wolves of Rome, too, in
more places than they know of! Many and many a good
blade have I shaped and tempered— many a shield and
helmet; but the war-work and the anvil-work of Ezra
the Swordmaker are done, and he goes forth a crippled
beggar — yea, even a hunted wild beast! Go, my son;
go thou to Isaac Ben Nassur.”

“JT will go,” replied Cyril, with tears on his face and a
tremor in his voice; “but when — when shall I see thee
again?”

“The Lord, the God of our fathers, he only knoweth,”
said Ezra. “There have been terrible times for Israel,
and there are bloodier days to come. I am glad thy
mother is at rest. Only thou and Lois remain. Our kin-
dred are fewer than they were. Something tells me that
the day of a great vengeance is near at hand. So all the
prophets tell us. O my son, be thou ready for the coming
of the promised King!”
THE FUGITIVES FROM SAMARIA 5

“The King!” Cyril exclaimed. “Why does he not
come now? Why is it that our people are left without a
leader, to be slaughtered like sheep ?”

“Who shall know the counsel of the Most High?” rev-
erently responded Ezra. “ But the Messiah, the Prince
of the house of David, the Captain of the host of Israel,
he will surely come !”

Something of their family history presented itself in
their after-talk. Long years ago, it appeared, a Greek
proselyte to the Jewish faith, a woman of high character
and great beauty, named Lois, had met with Hzra the
Swordmaker at a Passover week at Jerusalem, and had
not long afterward become his wife. She had been as
zealous a believer as if she had been born a daughter of
Abraham.

They talked of her, and of the young Lois at Cana, and
of the oppressions of their people, and of the seeming
hopelessness of any present help; but at last Ezra turned
and waved his withered right hand westward.

“On that plain of Esdraelon,” he said, “ since the world
was made more men have fallen by the sword than upon
any other piece of ground. In the day of the coming
King, in the year of his redeemed, there shall be fought
there the greatest of all battles, on the field of blood in
the valley before Jezreel.”

He seemed truly to grow in stature. His face fiushed,
and his voice rang out like a trumpet. All the fierce en-
thusiasm of the brave old Hebrew, however, was repro-
6 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

duced in the face and attitude of his son. Cyril looked
toward Esdraelon and Carmel with eyes that blazed, and
cheeks that were white instead of red.

“The great battle!” he exclaimed. “Dost thou think
I may be there?”

“God grant it!” responded the swordmaker, with great
solemnity. “I have taught thee my trade; thou hast
also learned every feat that is to be performed with the
sword and spear. I have taught thee to box, and to
wrestle, and to swim. Thou art as fleet of foot ag Asahel
—as fleet as a wild roe. Thou art perfect, for thy age,
with the bow and with the sling. I have hoped for thee
that thou mayest be a captain. Therefore, as thou goest,
learn all there is to know about war. Learn from the
Romans; study their camps and forts, and the marching
of their cohorts. What we need is their drill and their
discipline. Go, now. If I am slain, I am slain. Live
thou, and be strong; and pray that in the day that is
coming thou mayest indeed fight at the right hand of the
anointed King of Israel.”

For one short moment he held. Cyril tightly in his arms,
and then they parted. The face of the old warrior-ar-
morer grew stern, perhaps despairing, but he turned and
silently strode away toward the rugged declivities of the
Gilboa Mountains.

Cyril stood, motionless, looking after his father until
the rocks and trees hid him from view. He turned again
toward the plain, but it was no time for thinking of the


CYRIL SHOOK HIS CLENCHED FIST AT THE ROMANS.

THE FUGITIVES FROM SAMARIA 9

mighty hosts which had met there or were yet to meet.
The spot he stood on was no hiding-place, and the boy,
too, must flee for his liberty or his life.

The galloping spearmen had long since disappeared,
and now Cyril’s eyes fell upon something that lay on the
ground at his feet. He stooped and picked it up —a little
bag that answered with a chink to the shake he gave it.
He had known that it was there, but acted as if he had
been unconscious of it until now. He untied it and poured
out the contents into his hand.

“Seven shekels and twenty denarii,” he mused. “I am
afraid he gave me all he had. He can get more, if he can
reach his friends at the cave in the wilderness of Judea.
I want to go there some day. I wish I could be with him
now, and not in Galilee. I will not spend one denarius
until I am compelled to.”

He put the money back into the bag and hid it under
his tunic. It was not a large sum, but it was quite a pro-
vision, in that time and place, for a young fellow like
him. The shekel, nominally worth sixty-two and a half
cents of our money, was a Hebrew coin, and it might have
been called the dollar of Palestine but that it would buy
so much more than would a dollar of the present day.
The denarius was a Roman coin worth sixteen cents, and
was a fair day’s wages for a laboring-man.

Cyril’s bag, therefore, contained his living for three
months, if he could prevent it from being violently taken
away by one kind of robber or another. There were
10 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

many, of many kinds, for such as he, and he was mind-
ful of them while he so carefully concealed the bag.
During the years that he could remember, thousands
of Jewish youths had been sold into slavery, and thou-
sands of Jewish patriots, such as Ezra, had been slain
with the sword or crucified beside the highways. He
had evidently been, himself, an eye-witness of terrible
scenes, and his eyes were flashing angrily as he recalled
them.

“Oh, that the King of Israel would come!” he ex-
claimed aloud. “He will rule at Jerusalem and in Sama-
ria! He will conquer the Romans! He will subdue the
world! Iwill go to Galilee, now, but I hope to be with
him on that day,— the day of the great battle in the val-
ley before Jezreel!”

He set off at once down the hillside, toward the very
highway along which the cavalry had ridden. It led to-
ward Jezreel, but it also led toward the boundary-line
between the district of Samaria, belonging to the region
under Pontius Pilate, the representative of the Roman
emperor Tiberius, and the district of Galilee, belonging
to Herod Antipas, son of Herod the Great, who was also
a subject of the Roman emperor. If Cyril were once
across that line, the perils of such an insignificant fugi-
tive from Samaria would be very much diminished, for
there were jealousies between Herod and Pilate, and the
military forces of one of them did not trespass upon the
territory of the other. No doubt there would be guards
along the frontier as well as patrols on the great military
THE FUGITIVES FROM SAMARIA 11

road, and Cyril may have been thinking of such obstacles
when he said:

“T can get through in spite of them—and I will die
rather than be taken prisoner !”

As for Ezra the Swordmaker, he walked very rapidly
for some time after parting from his son. More and more
wild and rugged grew the scenery around him. He clam-
bered out, at last, upon a bare, sunlit knob of granite,
above a narrow valley in the middle of which was a
cluster of rude dwellings.

“No,” he said, looking thoughtfully down upon them;
“T must not sleep under a roof to-night. Neither will my
boy. The villagers are hospitable enough, but who
knows what enemies I might find among them?”

He looked up, for a moment, but the cloudlessly blue
sky sent back no answer. He had murmured an earnest
prayer in the old Hebrew tongue, and when he ceased he
turned his face toward the north, the direction in which
Cyril had gone.

“My brave young lion!” he exclaimed. “It must be
his hand, not mine, that will henceforth ply the hammer
and draw the sword. I am like Israel.and Judah, for my
right hand is withered and I can strike no more.”

His deep, mournful voice rang out unheard through
the solitude, and then he was silent. There was uncom-
mon vigor in the firm, elastic step with which he now
pushed forward, across broken ledges and through the
tangled forest-growths, toward a mass of gloomy-looking
cliffs which rose to the northward of the valley.
CHAPTER II
THE RABBI’S LECTURE

HE village street, in which the maiden stood by the
well, wore a half-sleepy look, for little breeze was
stirring and the day was warm. Others were coming and
going, but she did not seem to be speaking to any of her
companions. “Tt will be one of the largest wedding-par-
ties they ’ve ever had in Cana,” she was thinking. “The
bride is very handsome, and is rich.”

She had put down her tall, slender-necked water-pitcher
upon the circle of masonry around the mouth of the well.
She stood erect, and the merry expression which had
twinkled for a moment in her brilliant dark eyes faded
away. They suddenly grew thoughtful, and her lip quiv-
ered as she exclaimed:

“When will they come, and why do I not hear from
them? They may have been killed!”

Cana was a thriving village on the great highway
through the hills west of the Sea of Galilee. From the
main road a number of narrow, irregular streets wan-
dered up and along a low hillside, and were bordered by

houses that were built mostly of stone. The inhabitants
12
THE RABBIS LECTURE 13

had need for thrift and industry, if it were only because
of the tax-gatherers; for Herod Antipas was building
palaces, fortresses, and cities. All the people paid taxes
and bribes to him and to his builders.

While the consequences were often painful enough,
there were no signs of actual poverty in the vicinity of
the well. It stood several paces in front of a dwelling,
two stories in height, which seemed somewhat better than
its neighbors. The porch along its lower story was
thickly clad with vines, and from under these the girl
had come to bring her jar to the well. A Jewish maiden
of nearly fifteen was accounted a full-grown woman, and
the slightness of her graceful figure did not interfere with
an air of maturity which her present state of mind much >
increased. Her simple dress, that became her so well,
was of good materials.

Ranged on either side of the well were six large, cum-
brous-looking water-pots of stoneware, partly filled, for
the convenience of any person wishing to perform the
foot or hand ablutions required by the exacting ceremo-
nial law of the Jews.

The vine-clad porch was a pleasant place. It was pro-
vided with wooden benches; and on one of these sat a
man who seemed to consider himself a person of impor-
tance. Hvery movement, and even his attitude when sit-
ting still, might be said to accord with a conviction that
he, Rabbi Isaac Ben Nassur, was the wisest, the most
learned man in Cana.
14 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

He was very tall, as well as broad and heavy; and his
thick, gray beard came down to the voluminous sash that
was folded around his waist. His eyebrows were black
and projecting; his nose was prominent; his black eyes
were piercing; he was dressed, as became a rabbi, or any
other highly respectable Jew, in a long linen tunic with
sleeves, that was belted by the sash. Over this he wore a
long, loosely flowing robe, called an “abba,” also of linen.
Around his shoulders, with the ends falling in front, was
a broad white woolen scarf, with narrow bars of red and
purple and blue, and with blue tassels at the corners of
each of its two ends. This was the “tallith,” and was
worn as a reminder that the wearer must remember all
the commandments of the Law and faithfully perform
them.

Every good Jew wore a tallith, larger or smaller, and
some were costly; but Rabbi Isaac was by no means a
rich man, as even his well-worn sandals testified, and there-
fore his tallith was only of fine wool, without ornament.
On his head, instead of a turban, was a long linen ker-
chief so folded that three of the corners fell down at the
back and sides. A band kept the kerchief in place.

In front of the rabbi stood a tall young man, listening
with most reverent attention, having taken off his turban
to receive his father’s admonitions.

The thick vine-leaves which veiled the shady porch did
not prevent the sonorous voice of the rabbi from carrying
at least as far as the well.
THE RABBIS LECTURE 15

The audience there consisted of more than one person.
The women, of all ages, who came to the well with water-
jars, were ready to rest and gossip a little before carrying
them away on their shoulders or gracefully balanced
upon their heads.

Lois was disposed to ask, even eagerly, for other news
than that of the village of Cana. She laughed when
others did, but, as her gossiping neighbors came and
went, shadow after shadow, as of disappointment, flitted
across her face. Not one of them had any news to tell
her of the absent ones for whom she longed.

It was evident that the wedding of Raphael, the near
kinsman of Lois, and only son of the wise Rabbi Isaac,
was considered an important event, and a welcome varia-
tion in the somewhat humdrum course of the daily life
of the village. The rabbi himself, so regarding it, dis-
coursed eloquently upon the general subject of matri-
mony, as well as upon the especial ceremony now at hand;
and Raphael would surely be a model husband if he
should succeed in living up to his father’s instructions.
So said the langhing maids and matrons at the well. Al-
most all of them expected to have some share in the wed-
ding festivities. Some were friends or kindred of the
bride’s family, and were to join the procession from her
residence which would escort her and the bridegroom to
the house of Ben Nassur. Others were to wait with Lois
and the rabbi’s family until they should be told that the
16 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

bridegroom was coming. Then they would go out to
meet him.

The wedding was to take place in the evening of the
following day, whereupon seven days of feasting were to
follow, and for these great preparations had been made.

Kindred and friends were expected to come from far
and near on such an occasion, and were welcomed with
liberal hospitality.

No news is sometimes akin to good news, and the gos-
sippers at the well had brought with them no alarming
rumor of any kind. The shadows gradually flitted away
from the face of Lois. She lifted her jar and put it upon
her head. She was just disappearing through the porch
into the house, when the deep tones of Ben Nassur seemed
to send a thrill through her. His whole manner had
suddenly changed, and he was now standing erect.

“So now, my son,” he said, “see to it that all things are
ready for the wedding. Speak not to any man, impru-
dently, of this that I now tell thee. I go to the house of
Nathaniel, to hear more; but a mounted messenger from
Samaria, this morning, brought tidings of another tumult
in that city. More of our brethren have fallen by the
swords of their enemies, and there was none to help, for
the centurion in command there hates our nation as he
hath oft proved. Accursed may he be!”

Bitter and wrathful were the face and voice of the
rabbi, but the low-toned, fierce response of his son was
not audible beyond the porch. Now, however, there were


RABBI BEN NASSUR’S DISCOURSE TO HIS SON RAPHAEL.

4

THE RABBIS LECTURE 19

tears in the eyes of Lois, and her cheeks were white with
fear.

“And my father and Cyril are in Samaria!” she ex-
claimed. “Oh, how I wish I could hear from them!
What if they have been slain, or—or crucified! The
Romans are merciless!”
CHAPTER III
CYRIL AND THE ROMAN SOLDIER

YRIL was now well out upon the battle-plain of Hs-
draelon. Too many people were coming and going
upon the highways. They were not soldiers, nor pursuing
him, but the young fugitive preferred the broad stubble
fields, from which the wheat had long since been reaped,
and where now the tall growths of weeds concealed him
very well. There were stone walls to climb and villages
to go around, and the need for keeping under cover made
the distances to be traveled longer. On he went, with a
springing, elastic step, and he did not seem to feel at all
the heat of the sun. It was his native climate and did
not oppress him.

The many orchards and vineyards to which he came
were those of his friends, for he did not seem to mind
the husbandmen at work in them. As he made his
way between the long rows of a luxuriant vineyard, he
thought:

“It cannot be far now to the Kishon. Father says that
there is always a Roman patrol up and down the bank, so

that no one can cross, except under the eyes of the guards
20
CYRIL AND THE ROMAN SOLDIER 21

at the bridges. I shall have to keep watch for the patrol.
Once across the Kishon, and no man in heavy armor can
overtake me.”

Ezra had said of him, “as fleet of foot as Asahel, the
brother of Joab,” and Cyril had already shown himself a
very rapid traveler; but he might meet mounted men.
He went forward more cautiously, among the sheltering
vines, and as he paused, listening, there came a sound
that startled him. It was faint and far, but he exclaimed:

“A trumpet? That must be a signal. Those camel-
drivers on the road saw me, and they must have reported
me to the guard at the bridge. It is life or death, now!”

In a minute more, he was peering out from the north-
erly border of the vineyard.

“There is the Kishon!” he said. ‘There is a patrol,
too; he is a legionary.”

On the bank of the deep and swift river stood a fully
armed soldier of that terrible power which overshadowed
all the known world. To Cyril, that solitary legionary,
stationed there to prevent such as he from crossing the
Kishon, was an embodiment of all the enemies of Israel
and Judah. The soldier stood erect, with his pilum, or
broad-bladed spear, in his right hand. The vizor of his
bronze helmet was open. He seemed to have understood
the trumpet-note of warning, and was looking in all di-
rections. His sword hung at the left side, ready for use,
and on his left arm was a large round shield, now raised

a little as he scanned the vineyards and the river-bank,
2
22 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

as if he wondered from which of them an enemy could
come upon him at that time and place. After a few mo-
ments, he turned and strode slowly, vigilantly, along the
river-bank, while Cyril watched him.

“Good!” exclaimed Cyril, at last. “He is far enough
now. I can reach the river.”

Out he darted and sprang away toward the Kishon. Of
course he was at once seen by the quick-eyed patrol, and
hoarse and loud came the Latin summons to halt. To dis-
obey was sure and instant death, if Cyril should be over-
taken, and he would be followed with relentless persistence
if he should escape; but he bounded steadily forward while
the soldier ran toward him. The soldier ran well, too,
considering the weight of arms and armor he carried, for
all Roman legionaries were trained athletes; but he could
not get between the armorer’s son and the Kishon.

Not broad, but very deep and swift, was the torrent
that came rushing down from its sources among the
Gilboa hills. A spring, a splash, and Cyril was swim-
ming vigorously, though swept along down-stream by
the strong current, while his left hand held his rolled-
up robe high and dry above the water.

Fierce, indeed, were the threatening commands of the
legionary, but on the brink of the Kishon he was com-
pelled to halt and consider. No doubt he could swim,
but not well with his heavy armor, his shield, and his
sword.

Lightly and rapidly swam Cyril, and in a few moments
CYRIL AND THE ROMAN SOLDIER 23

more he was out on the northerly bank of the Kishon,
sending back a shout of triumph and defiance. But he
meant to send back something more. His eyes were
swiftly searching the ground around him, while he drew
out something which had been hidden among the folds
of his robe.

It was a square of leather, as broad as his two hands,
with corner-straps as long as his arm —a sling, such as
David used of old. In that older day, all the tribe of
Benjamin, to which the house of Ezra the Swordmaker
belonged, were noted slingers; and here was their young
representative, stooping to pick up smooth, rounded peb-
bles, as David had picked up his pebbles from the brook
in the valley of Elah. In an instant he was erect again,
sling in hand, while yet the soldier stood considering
the risk of swimming the Kishon.

Whirl went the sling, with such a swiftness that it
could hardly be seen, and away hissed the stone. No
doubt the Roman had faced slingers, many a time; but
the distance was more than fifty yards, and he may not
have expected so true an aim. Up went his shield, in-
deed, a second too late, and well for him that he bowed
his head, for Cyril’s first pebble struck him full upon the
erest. It did not knock him down, only because, in the
heat of the day, he had loosened the fastenings of his
helmet, so that the blow of the stone struck it from his
head, and sent it rolling away in the grass.

No crossing of the Kishon now, with that slinger to
24 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

practise upon his bare head all the way! Expert warrior
though he was, he had enough to do for the next two
minutes in warding off with his shield the well-aimed
pebbles which rapidly followed the first.

Fast they came, and loudly they rang, one of them
glancing from the shield to batter the brazen greave on
his right leg.

“T must not delay,” thought Cyril. “Other Romans
may be coming. One more!”

Away flew the stone, but the blow on his leg had warned
the soldier to kneel and guard now, and the missile made
only a deep dent in the face of the shield.

When the bearer of it looked out again from behind
the target of bull’s-hide and metal which had served him
so well, the slinger had disappeared ; and there was nothing
for the beaten Roman patrol to do but to go and report
to his officer that one of the best slingers he had ever
met had escaped from him. He could not have guessed
how one J ewish boy’s heart was dancing with delight and
pride as he pushed along northward, thinking, dreaming,
and even exclaiming enthusiastically :

“Oh, that the King would come to lead us against the
Romans!”

No hunted wolf could have gone forward more cau-
tiously than did Cyril. There were other streams to cross,
and some of them were deep; but there were no patrols in
his way, and the waters were no impediment. They were
more like cooling baths provided for a wayfarer who was
CYRIL AND THE ROMAN SOLDIER 25

fond of them. If nothing worse should block his path,
he would have no difficulty in getting to Cana some time
during the next day.

The sun went down, and a cloudless night came on.
The sky seemed to blaze with stars, and the young traveler
could still find his way, somewhat more slowly, along the
lanes which led from house to house and from hamlet
to hamlet. It was toilsome journeying, and there was
now added the danger of being taken by anybody and
everybody for a prowling robber.

“They would make short work of me,” he said, “or I
might be sold for a slave. They would not crucify me,
but they would surely scourge me.”

It seemed as if Cyril gave hardly a thought to the fact
that he had gone without any supper. Perhaps he was
used to privation. At all events, he at last lay down under
the shadow of a wide-branching olive-tree, and went to
sleep as peacefully as if he had no enemies in the world.
His last thought was:

“Wather will escape them —I know that he will. To-
morrow will be the fifth day of the week, and I shall see
Lois before sunset.”
CHAPTER IV
BRINGING HOME THE BRIDE

BOUT an hour after Cyril lay down at the foot of
the olive-tree, that Wednesday evening, Lois was
one of a joyous procession which set out from the house
of Rabbi Isaac, as soon as word arrived that the bride-
groom was coming. Already, at the house of the bride’s
father, all the wedding formalities and ceremonials re-
quired by the Law or by Galilean custom had been fully
performed, and the bridal procession from that place was
winding its somewhat noisy way through the narrow and
crooked streets of Cana. The bridal pair were escorted
by all who had any right or will to accompany them.
When the procession from Ben Nassur’s house met them,
it faced about, forming one company, which increased as
they went along.

The bride herself, closely attended by the bridegroom
and his friends, was the central figure; butof her nothing
could be seen excepting the tresses of flowing hair which
escaped from under her veil. Her robes, however, were
glittering with all the jewels of her family for which a
place could anywhere be found. There were many musi-

26
BRINGING HOME THE BRIDE 27

cians,— fiute-players, beaters of cymbals, and others,—
and there were a number of fine singers among the girls
who came dancing along in front of the bride and groom,
singing the songs that befitted the occasion. Most of
these were in praise of the beauty and good qualities of
the bride. Among all the singers there was no voice
sweeter than that of Lois. She was accompanied by her
friends and neighbors; and each young girl carried in
her hand a lighted lamp, and all were exceedingly careful
lest it should go out, for an idea of evil fortune attached
to sucha happening. The lights of the little lamps carried
by the dancing, singing maidens, however, were as nothing
compared with that of the blazing torches borne by the
young men who went before or at the sides of the proces-
sion. This was evidently no ordinary wedding, in the
estimation of the people of Cana.

When the house of Ben Nassur was reached, most of
the merrymakers were at liberty to return to their own
homes; but a chosen few walked in with the bride and
groom, and thereupon the outer door of the house was
shut.

The fifth day of the week, Thursday, would be counted
as the first day of the feast, and during seven days Ben
Nassur would keep open house in honor of his son’s
wedding.

The fifth day of the week dawned brilliantly over Ju-
dea. Ezra the Swordmaker was just then cautiously
emerging from an opening which, at a little distance,
28 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

looked like a crack or furrow in the steep side of a hill.
His place of refuge for the night had been one of the
numberless caves, partly natural and partly artificial, with
which all that region abounds. They form very safe
hiding-places both for hunted men and for wild beasts.

Ezra stood still for a moment in the doorway of his
cave, and drew a long breath, glad to see the light and to
breathe the fresh morning air.

“Cyril is safe by this time,” he said. “He must have
passed the border. So am I safe, but — of what use am
Inow?” He groaned as he lifted his right hand. “T can
hardly call myself a man,” he said. “I must go and hide
in the wilderness of Judea. My days of service are done.
There is no power on earth that can restore a withered
hand!”

For withered it was: shriveled and crooked and gnarled.
He could neither grasp with the nerveless fingers nor
straighten them, and he let his arm fall loosely at his side,
and, turning, speedily disappeared in the forest.

There were a great many people coming and going that
day at the house of the wise rabbi Isaac Ben Nassur.
They were not all Cana people, by any means. The bridal
feast was spread in the large front room opening upon
the porch, and all who had a right to enter were wel-
comed heartily. Food was plentifully provided, but the
merriest hour of each day would be after sunset, when,
the day’s work being done, all the invited guests would
come.
BRINGING HOME THE BRIDE 29

The bridegroom was continually present, to receive con-
gratulations and good wishes. With him were several
young men of his more intimate friends; but decidedly
the most important figure in that room was Isaac him-
self. As master of the house and as ruler of the feast, he
sat at the head of the long table provided for the occa-
sion. His dress was as simple as ever, but it seemed to
have undergone a change, he wore it with so grand an
air. He appeared to be happy, and he received great re-
spect from the throng of people who came to congratulate
him upon the marriage of his son.

So the marriage-feast went on until the mid-day was
past and the shadows began to lengthen in the streets of
Cana. In the shade of Ben Nassur’s house, hours before
sunset, on the easterly side, stood two young people, half
hidden by the vines and shrubbery, who seemed to have
forgotten all about the wedding. Their talk was subdued
but exceedingly animated, for Cyril had arrived and he
was telling Lois of all that had happened since they had
parted at Samaria so many months before. She was as
earnestly patriotic as Cyril himself, and her face said
more than her words while she listened to Cyril’s account
of the doings of Samaritans and Romans, and of the deeds
of her father and his friends. Then he told her of his
own feat at the Kishon, and her bright black eyes flashed
with exulting admiration of a brother who had actually
struck off the helmet of a Roman legionary.

“Oh, Cyril !— what a soldier thou wilt be!”
30 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

“Tf the King were here to lead us!” broke in Cyril.
“Oh, for the Messiah, the Captain! I could fight under
him.”

“ Qyril,” replied Lois, “I have somewhat to tell thee.
Nathanael, Isaac’s friend, was at the Jordan where John
the Baptizer is preaching. That was several weeks ago.
He came back with a report about Jesus of Nazareth, and
how John had said of him that he was the Lamb of God.
It is so strange!”

“Herod has imprisoned John in the Black Castle,” said
Cyril, “not far from the Dead Sea.”

“But he is a prophet,” said Lois; “ Nathanael believes
it. The carpenter’s son is of the royal house of David.
He will be here to-day with some of his friends from
Capernaum and Bethsaida, and thou wilt see him.”

Cyril listened in silence, for the tidings deeply interested
him. He had dreamed and hoped and talked, as had all
other Jews young or old, about a Prince of the house of
David, an Anointed Deliverer; but it was quite another
thing to be told that the man he longed for had already
been found, and that he was to meet him at the house of
Ben Nassur.

“Come,” said Lois, “I will show thee his mother. She
is there by the well, waiting for him. She is Hannah’s
near kinswoman, and we love her greatly.”

“He is only a carpenter now,” said Cyril.

“Rabbi Isaac said to Nathanael that Jesus is indeed a
lineal descendant of David, but he is not a soldier. He
BRINGING HOME THE BRIDE 31

reads in the synagogues, and he has been preaching much
of late. Still, Isaac says he is not learned like a rabbi.”

“T wish I could see him,” exclaimed Cyril.

“Come,” said Lois, again; and they went slowly, talk-
ing almost in whispers. Lois had not yet seen the son of
the carpenter of Nazareth, and her eagerness to do so
was quickly communicated to her enthusiastic brother.
He felt his heart beat more quickly, and his breath came
faster, as she told him of the various marvels that had
been crowned at last by the testimony of John at the
Jordan.

‘“‘Hven while he was in the water,” she said, “a beauti-
ful white dove came down and alighted on his head, and
there was heard a voice from the heavens.”

“T wish I had been there!” exclaimed Cyril. “But
is that Mary, his mother?”

“Yes; she stands there — there by the well,” said Lois.
“Ts she not a noble-looking woman? And she says her
son has never seemed just like other men.”

But such was not the opinion of Isaac Ben Nassur and
other leading residents of Cana and of Nazareth. They
knew the young Jesus (or Joshua, as they more frequently
called him), the son of Joseph. They had seen him from
boyhood. They thought no less of him because he worked
for a living: the wisest and greatest rabbis did so. More-
over, it was an important matter that he was of the royal
line of David, now so nearly extinct; every Jew was
ready to acknowledge so rare a distinction; but there
32 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

their reverence ended, for otherwise he had neither rank
nor power. The older and wiser they thought themselves,
the less they were concerned about Nathanael’s talk of
the marvelous occurrences at Bethabara.

Cyril and Lois were young, and were neither wise nor
learned. They, therefore, were more and more excited as
they drew nearer the noble-looking matron who stood by
the well, gazing expectantly down the street. Her face
had just been lighted by an expression of pleasure; but
now it suddenly clouded again, as if something whispered
to her by a woman who came from the house might be
unpleasant tidings. At that moment also, the bridegroom
himself appeared in the doorway, accompanied by his
mother, Hannah; and his face, like her own, wore an
anxious look.

“Such a disgrace, Raphael!” exclaimed Hannah, in a
half-frightened tone — “to have the supply of wine fail
on the first day of the feast!”

“The tax-gatherers are to blame!” he responded, in
anery mortification. “They had secured almost every
wine-skin that was for sale in Cana. So I sent all the
way to Chorazin, and I provided abundance; but the tax-
gatherers have stopped it on the way. They declared that
it had not paid its full duty; but I know that is untrue.
They have taken it —they are robbers!”

Raphael was sorely mortified. Anybody might have sym-
pathized with him. Such a scarcity would be considered
a disgrace to his whole family and to that of his bride.
























































“*CYRIL,’ SAID LOIS, POINTING, ‘LOOK! HE IS COME!’”

BRINGING HOME THE BRIDE 35

“Do not tell your father, yet,” said Hannah. “ But
what are we to do?”

Cyril and Lois, out by the well, had now heard this
news, the same which had so clouded the face of Mary.
“The publicans took it,” whispered Lois; but her brother
was gazing earnestly at the mother of Jesus of Nazareth,
and so did not reply. He could not explain to himself
what it was that was so different in her manner from any
of the other women around her. Her face was so pure,
so good, he thought; so full of light as she now turned
again to look down the street. Then she exclaimed:
“Hannah! Heis coming! He will be here quickly.”

“Cyril,” said Lois, pointing, “look! There is Jesus of
Nazareth! He is come!”
CHAPTER V
WINE FOR THE FEAST

HERE were half a dozen men in the foremost group
of the new-comers, and others were not far behind
them. All were in their best array, in honor of the wed-
ding. They were strongly made, brawny, resolute-look-
ing men, of the somewhat peculiar Galilean type, with
faces bronzed by the sun and hands hardened by toil.
There was no need for Lois to point out to Cyril the one
of whom she had been speaking.

Somewhat in advance of the rest walked one who was
speaking to a vigorous, fiery-eyed man, who strode along
at his side. Could this really be the heir of David and of
Solomon, this simply dressed and quiet Galilean?

Whether or not Cyril had begun to form expectations
of a different kind, this was the man of whom Nathanael
had spoken to Ben Nassur. He wore no crown, no sword,
no jewels; and Cyril had not supposed that he would.
But there was about him no sign of soldiership, or lead-
ership, or of authority.

“He is no captain,” thought Cyril, sadly; “he is no
warrior; he seems no greater than other men!”

The boy had a sense of disappointment, so little cause

36
WINE FOR THE FEAST 37

for enthusiasm or hope did this man from Capernaum
seem to bring with him. He should have been very
different, if he were indeed to be a king.

Nevertheless, Cyril could not turn his eyes away, al-
though they failed to keep an accurate picture which he
could afterward remember. He was sure, indeed, that
this man, while no taller than others, was of at least full
height, broad-shouldered, muscular, with the firm, easy
step and movement which belong to men of perfect form
and unimpaired strength. He was as erect as a pine, and
his sashed tunic and flowing robe, not different from
others around him, befitted him well. Cyril took note of
even his hair and beard; but if the boy also tried to tell
the color of the eyes, he could not do so, for his own sank
before them, and he had a curious sensation of being
looked through rather than looked at; and yet his heart
beat high and fast for a moment.

“ Lois,” he whispered.

“Hush!” she answered softly. “Mary is about to
speak to him.”

The party from Capernaum had halted at the well, and
Mary stood in front of her son, looking up at him with
an expression that seemed to be partly doubt and partly
expectation. Before a word was said by either of them,
Lois whispered to Cyril:

“Look! just see how he loves her!”

“Hush ! — listen,” said Cyril — for at that moment the
lips of Mary parted.
38 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

Her heart was full of the grave disaster which threat-
ened the wedding-feast, and behind her stood Hannah,
the bridegroom’s mother and Mary’s friend and kins-
woman.

“They have no wine!” said Mary.

“Why does she tell him?” whispered Lois; and some-
thing of the same idea was expressed in the answer of
Jesus. A different spirit, nevertheless, was manifest in
the kindly manner and smile with which he replied:
“Woman, what have I to do with thee? Mine hour is
not yet come.”

Mary must have understood her son’s meaning better
than others did or could, for she at once turned to those
who stood by the well. Among them were servants of
Ben Nassur, and she said to these:

“ Whatsoever he saith unto you, do it.”

“Will he send them for wine?” thought Lois. “J
heard Raphael say there was none to be had in Cana. He
may send even to Nazareth.” And Cyril exclaimed aloud:
“T will go with them.”

But at that moment the man Cyril felt so ready to obey
pointed to the great jars by the well and said :

“Will the water-pots with water.”

There had been many ceremonial washings that day, as
the guests of the wedding came and went, for not one
had gone in without pausing by the well. The water-pots
were therefore nearly empty, and it would require much
drawing to fill them.


“*TOIs, MY PITCHER 18 FULL OF WINE!’”

WINE FOR THE FEAST 41

“This must be done before he sends for the wine,” said
Lois. “His mother knows he has some.”

“Or she certainly would not have asked him to provide
some for the feast,” said Cyril, leaning over to lift his full
bucket from the well.

There was even some haste and a kind of excitement
among those whose ready hands were drawing and pour-
ing; and in a few minutes more the sunshine sparkled
upon brimming fullness in the last of the six jars.

“Now we are to go for the wine,” said Cyril.

“They can’t drink water at a wedding-feast,” thought
Lois.

There was a startled look upon every face around her, as
she glancedfrom one to another, for the next command was:

“Draw out, now, and bear to the governor of the
feast.”

Cyril could not account for the tremor he felt as he
dipped a pitcher into a water-pot, filled it, and lifted it,
and stepped away toward the house.

“Water, for the governor of the feast?” he thought.
“Water, to Ben Nassur himself? Does he mean to mock
the rabbi, because there is no wine?”

Still, he could hardly help looking into the pitcher in
his hands. Just behind him was Lois. Suddenly she
heard her brother exclaim: “Itis wine! Lois, my pitcher
is full of wine! Let me see yours.”

Down came her pitcher, and the two were placed side
by side.

3
AQ THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

“Qh, Cyril!” said Lois, “it is wine! Was that what
Jesus meant?”

“Tt must be,” said Cyril, in a low voice. Then, after a
pause, “ We must carry it in. Come!”

Behind them followed the line of servants. In a mo-
ment more the two tall, slender pitchers were deposited
before Isaac Ben Nassur, at the head of the table. It was
his duty, as ruler of the feast, to critically taste each new
supply of refreshments provided, and now he quickly
filled a drinking-vessel, for a hint of the threatened
scarcity had reached him.

Cyril and Lois, and behind them the servants of the
house, with Mary and Hannah and several others, gazed
expectantly upon the face of the rabbi, waiting for his
opinion. A little distance from him, at his right, pale and
red by turns with anxiety, stood his son, the bridegroom.
To him Ben Nassur turned, well pleased and radiant, but
still somewhat judicial, as became the ruler of the feast,
and remarked:

“Every man, at the beginning, doth set forth good
wine, and when they have well drunk, then that which is
worse; but thou hast kept the good wine until now.”

So it was said by all. It was as if it had been recently
pressed from the best grapes of the vintage.

“ Qyril!” exclaimed Lois, as they hurried out, so awed
that they were almost frightened, “it was water, and it
became wine!”

“What will the people say?” said Cyril. “I wish I
dared to ask him if he is to be our king.”
CHAPTER VI
CAPERNAUM

OW great was the wonder of the guests who drank
H the good wine at the marriage-feast when they
learned that the pitchers must have been filled from the
well in front of Ben Nassur’s house.

The rabbi himself had not been among those who stood
at the well. He had only seen the wine brought to him
in pitchers. But Mary and Hannah, the men who came
with Jesus, the house-servants, and a few others, well
knew the water had been changed into wine.

Cyril and Lois had no opportunity to discuss the mat-
ter until late that evening.

A sleeping-place, even for Lois, had to be found at the
house of a neighbor; and the best that could be done for
Cyril was to give him the freedom of the flat roof of
Isaac’s own home.

It was no hardship to sleep there, during a warm night.
Cyril and his sister went up to the roof while yet the
sounds of merriment, the music, and the singing, came up

from the marriage-festival below.
43
44 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

It was a beautiful night, and the roof was cool and
quiet.

Cyril came up first, and he stood at a corner leaning
over the stone parapet, when Lois joined him.

“T cannot be mistaken,” said Cyril, as if thinking aloud.
“T poured the water into that jar, and I saw it was wine
when I took it out in my pitcher, and carried it into the
house to Ben Nassur. All the servants saw that there
was water in the pitchers first, and afterward there was
wine.”

“Tt is true. So it was in mine,” said Lois, who had
come to his side. “They all go to Capernaum to-morrow.
Jesus of Nazareth means to live there. His mother will,
too, for a while. Then she returns to her own house, at
Nazareth. I wish I could live with her.”

“T would like to know what sort of work I can find to
do while I am there,” exclaimed Cyril.

“T know what I am going to do, I think,” said Lois.
“There is a woman named Abigail the tallith-maker, who
lives there. Some of the women at the wedding told me
she wants a girl who knows something of the trade to
work for her. I learned needle-work while I was staying
in Samaria.”

“Thou didst very good work,” said Cyril. “There is
more to do in Capernaum than there is here. Ill find
some work.”

“Most of the people are fishing-folk,” said Lois. “The
lake is full of fish.”
CAPERNAUM 45

“Sometimes little is taken, they say,” replied Cyril.
“But I must try it. I long to see Jesus of Nazareth, and
he will be there. What did he mean by the words he said
to his mother —‘ Mine hour is not yet come.’ ”

“T do not know; I did not understand them. I mean
to be with her, part of the time, while she remains there,”
replied Lois. “TI go to Capernaum, to-morrow, with her
and her friends.”

“Tam glad,” said Cyril, “I will go, too. Jesus is to stay
in Cana, for a day or two, but I ll come.”

Lois bade her brother good-night, and Cyril was alone
_ upon the roof.

“T wish father could see this man, Jesus of Nazareth,”
the boy said to himself. “Father is an experienced old
soldier, and has been a captain. He would know what
the people might expect of him.”

Ezra the Swordmaker had studied carefully, and had
talked with his son about the ways and means for collect-
ing, equipping, and arming a force of patriotic Jews such
as might, at some future day, drive out the Romans and
destroy the power of Herod.

At last Cyril went to sleep, but when he awoke, in the
morning, his head was still full of the arrangements for
his proposed journey from Cana to Capernaum.

Lois also was making ready, and both Rabbi Isaac and
his wife were entirely satisfied with the plans of their
young relatives. There would be more room in the some-
what overcrowded house in Cana. As for the transfer of
46 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

Mary’s residence from Nazareth to Capernaum, for a sea-
son, such temporary removals were not at all uncommon
among the Jewish people.

Only two days later, and while yet the wedding festivi-
ties continued in the house of Isaac, Cyril and Lois reached
Capernaum. Their little baggage was carried by one don-
key, while Lois rode another, and the hire of these ani-
mals made the first large draft upon the money Cyril had
received from his father.

The direct distance from Cana was only about twelve
miles, but the road so wound among hills as to make it
longer. Both brother and sister felt they had never
before seen so beautiful a country, and when at last they
came out in sight of Chinnereth, or the Sea of Galilee,
they understood why the rabbis declared: “God made
seven seas in the land of Canaan, but chose for himself
only one —the Sea of Galilee.”

The lake itself was beautiful, and the shores were lined
with cities, larger or smaller, or with palaces whose
grounds and gardens came down to the water’s edge. Ca-
pernaum was a well-built and prosperous place at some
distance from the shore, but there were no buildings
along the beach near it; only boat-wharves, here and
there, little more than mere landing-places in the little
bays which indented the long, curving shore-line.

The region was a kind of fisherman’s paradise; and
around it was also a rich farming country, with a climate
so mild that even figs and grapes ripened during ten










CYRIL AND LOIS ON THEIR WAY TO CAPERNAUM.

CAPERNAUM 49

months of the year, and the fruits of temperate and tropi-
eal regions grew luxuriantly, side by side. The popula-
tion was dense, and it was a continual marvel that the
lake was not fished out, so numerous were the fishermen
and so heavy were the catches. All the country around
furnished them a market, and Cyril was assured that he
would find enough to do, but that his wages would barely
support him; so he was glad when Lois was kindly wel-
comed by Abigail the tallith-maker. This woman made
other garments worn by the people among whom she
lived, and it was of importance to her that the brother of
her new assistant was a youth whose training under so
good a smith as Hzra enabled him to mend her needles of
all sizes. No doubt even the very smallest of them would
seem both coarse and clumsy to the eyes of a modern
seamstress.

Cyril, from the hour of his coming, was full of the idea
which had brought him to Capernaum; and it may have
been his eagerness to see and hear Jesus of Nazareth
which brought him into acquaintance with Simon and
Andrew, and several other men. Soon after his arrival
he told Lois:

“The people around the lake know more about Jesus
than is known at Nazareth. He teaches and preaches
here and all come to hear him. They believe about the
turning of the water into wine more readily than some
of those who saw the water drawn and carried into the
house.”
50 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

Lois could hardly have told how happy she was. She
was not conscious that she had ever been at all afraid of
so wise and learned a man as Rabbi Ben Nassur, but she
felt more at ease now she was not near him. Besides,
during several weeks she was often with Mary and her
son. She sat at her work in the quiet house dreaming
over the stories that were told her of the carpenter’s son.
Some of them went back to the very cradle of Jesus, and
this, as Lois now knew, had been a manger in a cattle
stable, in Bethlehem of Judea.

None of these stories had been written down, but Lois
learned them all by heart, and she would think of them
whenever she saw Jesus or heard him teach.

Cyril had thoughts and dreams of his own very differ-
ent from hers, for his spirit was becoming more and more
warlike. He saw that Jesus had been making himself
well known in many places, and would soon be widely
talked of. It was the right thing to do, if he was ever to
raise an army among the Galileans. So Cyril considered
it his own duty to seize upon every opportunity for study-
ing, as his father had bidden him, the fortifications of the
towns and cities near the lake, and for witnessing mili-
tary parades and marches, and for examining weapons of
all sorts and whatever else could be made use of in war —
in the war of Jews against Romans, in which he hoped
to be a soldier.
CHAPTER VII
JERUSALEM

OMETHING in the air of the beautiful country
Ss around the Sea of Galilee seemed to give its people
tranquillity. Everybody was busy, indeed, and it was not
difficult to earn a living where the needs of all were so
simple. There was no contentment, however, for the
yoke of the Roman foreigner pressed heavily, and so did
the oppressions of Herod Antipas, whom no Jew could
regard but as a foreigner, although his mother had been
a Jewess. Hvery act of brutal cruelty and every merci-
less exaction which the Galileans suffered helped to keep
them in mind of the prophecies of future freedom.

There had never been a time when all Jews were so
busy with thoughts concerning the coming of the Mes-
‘ siah, and their fixed idea was that he was to be a glorious
conqueror and king, one greater than David or Solomon,
one who was to make the Jews the foremost nation on
the earth.

Lois and Cyril saw each other almost daily, and all
their thoughts and talk were about their father. They
longed to know what had become of him, but there were
no tidings.

51
52 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

“T wish father could come and see the Teacher and
hear him,” said Cyril, one day. He and Lois had been
talking of the subject which was uppermost in the minds
of the people, and Cyril had been studying the stockade
at the Roman camp.

Lois was thoughtfully silent, and he went on:

“Father ought to be getting ready, if there is ever to
be a rising against the Romans. He knows hosts of men
all over the country. He knows old fighting men, and
they know him. He could get them together, too, when-
ever the right time comes. Oh, if his right hand were
sound, what things he could do!”

“The Nazarene is not often in Capernaum now,” said
Lois. “He is teaching and preaching among the villages,
everywhere, and so many go to hear him.”

“T wish I could see him do some new wonder!” ex-
claimed Cyril. “They ‘ll forget all about the wine at
Cana. I met aman who was at the wedding, and he said
he thought I was mistaken in what was done.”

For some undeclared reason, the Teacher, as all men
except the rabbis called Jesus, was only teaching and
preaching among the towns around the head of the lake.
He was becoming widely known, however, as those who
heard him carried news of his discourses, and as yet he
had not made enemies.

The days and weeks wore on until the autumn went
by, and then the winter, of that mild climate. The land
grew green again with the swift growth of the spring
JERUSALEM 53

crops. The time drew near for the annual Passover
Feast, and every year a host of pious Galileans — all who
were able — were sure to celebrate it at Jerusalem. When
it was announced that Jesus of Nazareth and his disciples
intended to go, most who heard it took it as a matter of
course, but it aroused enthusiasm in Cyril. “I am going,”
he said to Lois. “I cannot take thee this time; we have
not money enough. But I must be with him at Jerusa-
lem. Who knows what great works he will do when he
gets there? Isaac Ben Nassur is going, and the Cana
people.” :

“T wish I might go with thee!” said Lois. “Thou
canst not wish to go more than Ido. I want to see Jeru-
salem —I want to see the Temple. I long to see what the

. Master will do there.”

“T wish I could take thee with me,” said Cyril. “We
will try to have more money for the journey next year.
But he surely will not yet try to take Jerusalem; I do
not think there will be any fighting this time. I do not
see how he ever can take that great city; it is so strong.
But he must take it some day, if he is the predicted king.
Father says there will be a terrible battle, and Iam to be
in it. Our captain will have to raise an army from all
over the country.”

Lois made no reply to that. She had never been able
to think as Cyril did of the Teacher. She could not
imagine him with a sword in his hand, fighting other men.

One of Cyril’s ideas had been that the journey of Jesus
54 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

of Nazareth to Jerusalem would be like a royal progress,
and that he would preach to crowds along the way as he
was accustomed to do in Galilee. But Cyril was mis-
taken, for the Teacher traveled both quietly and rapidly.
As for the boy himself, he believed he was safe in cross-
ing the district of Samaria, so completely was he hidden
among the crowds of Passover pilgrims. From these pil-
grims the Samaritans kept away, and to them the Roman
soldiers paid no manner of attention. The weather was
glorious; not too warm for traveling, except in the middle
of the day; and all the country was in bloom and green.

The Passover was to be eaten on the fifteenth day of
the month Nisan, or April; but earlier than that multi-
tudes began to gather at Jerusalem, from all parts of the
world; for there were great preparations to be made be-
forehand. Some of these had reference to food and
lodgings, but even more were connected with the sacrifices
to be offered in the Temple.

The Temple, crowning a high hill, and visible from a
great distance, was in a vast inclosure of strongly fortified
walls. Within this there were several minor inclosures,
separated by walls and by gates which were themselves
important features of the gilded splendor of the most
costly and beautiful place of worship on all the earth.

These inner inclosures were called “ courts,” and opened
into one another. Beyond the outer court, none save
those known to be Jews could enter, and they only after
ceremonial preparation. Nevertheless, the outer court,
JERUSALEM 55

just within the Temple wall, was part of the Temple, the
“sacred. place,” the “house of God.” Because others than
Jews were permitted to enter, it was called the Court of
the Heathen or Gentiles. According to the Scriptures,
and all the teachings of the rabbis, this court was holy.
Into it nothing unclean could be brought. In it nothing
could be bought or sold, nor could any trade be carried
on there. The entire area, and not a part only, was
solemnly consecrated and set apart for worship. Never-
theless, so bad had become the management of the Temple
affairs by the priests and other rulers, that during four
weeks before the Passover all the laws were set aside, and
this court was rented out to dealers in cattle and all sorts
of merchandise, and to brokers who exchanged current
coins — such as Jewish shekels and half-shekels — for the
foreign coins brought by worshipers from other countries.
The holy place, therefore, was lined with cattle-pens, the
booths of tradesmen, the tables of money-changers, coops
of doves, while droves of cattle and sheep, and swarms of
buyers and sellers, shouting, jostling, bargaining, and
even quarreling, turned the entire court into a sort of fair,
where a vast amount of cheating, extortion, bribery, and
other mischief went on continually.

If Cyril had heard of all this desecration of the Temple,
he thought no more of it than did others, for it was a
thing to which even those who condemned it had become
accustomed.

The road from the north, by which the Galileans came,
56 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

must wind among the hills as it nears Jerusalem, but at
last, just after the city comes in sight, the road descends
into a valley. When that is passed, there is a long ascent
to the great gate in the high and massive wall that then
guarded the capital of Judea.

Cyril’s eagerness increased as he drew nearer, and at
last the long procession of pilgrims he was with reached
the ridge of the Mount of Olives, and he could see the
city.

“Jerusalem is glorious!” he exclaimed. ‘ What mas-
sive walls, and great towers! They say there is a whole
legion of Roman soldiers camped near the city, and that
the garrison inside is always very strong at Passover
time. What can our Nazarene do with them? He is
going into the city.”

Hardly a pause was made, indeed, by the Teacher and
his friends. They were not hindered at the gate, and
Cyril hardly allowed himself to wonder at the palaces and
forts and other splendors as he followed close after Jesus
of Nazareth up the steep street that led to the Temple.
It would have taken him or anybody long enough to tell
of what he saw by the way; the throngs of people from
every nation he had ever heard of, the many different
kinds of dress, the horses and their trappings, the cha-
riots, the flowers and fruits, the shops and merchandise,
the women in bright colors, the slaves, the soldiers in
their armor, the men whom he knew to be gladiators,
trained to fight in the terrible arena outside of the walls.


‘* JERUSALEM IS GLORIOUS!’”

JERUSALEM 59

It was still early in the forenoon of the bright April day
when the Teacher passed into the outer court of the
Temple. His face took on an expression of sadness and
severity as he gazed upon the scene of traffic and con-
fusion before him.

Only for a few moments, however, did Jesus linger and
look. His friends from Galilee, as many as were with
him, may have had errands of their own among the buy-
ers and sellers, for when he suddenly turned and walked
away out of the court, he went almost alone, only Cyril
following, at a little distance, half breathless with awe
and with an intense anxiety as to what might be about
to come.
CHAPTER VIII
THE SCOURGE OF SMALL CORDS

N the city of Jerusalem, as in other Oriental cities, the
several trades were not in every quarter, but the deal-
ers in different wares generally kept separate. Cyril could
not have found his own way to any quarter, but he could
follow his captain, as he considered him, to a narrow
street near by, mainly occupied by dealers in rope, cord-
age, and similar wares. There were also tent-makers in
that street, and it was by the shop of one of these that
the Teacher halted.

Hanging in front of the booth were quantities of the
small, strong, tough cords used for tent fastenings; and
Cyril wondered to see the Teacher buy some of these.

Cyril and the dealer looked on with more than a little
curiosity. A bunch of the cords were at first cut into
lengths, and then the Teacher plaited them into a kind
of whip, half as large at its beginning as a man’s wrist.

Swiftly he worked and dexterously; and Cyril watched
him from a little distance.

The whip, or “scourge,” was soon finished; and he who
60
THE SCOURGE OF SMALL CORDS 61

made it rolled it up and silently strode away toward the
Temple, whither Cyril followed him.

Through the great gate and into the outer court they
went, past the glittering ranks of Roman legionaries
posted there to put down any Jewish tumult; the hub-
bub of buying and selling was before them.

It seemed to be at its height. The unseemly disorder
was even louder than usual. Sheep bleated, fowls crowed,
cattle bellowed, men shouted to one another.

“What will he do?” exclaimed Cyril, for now the whip
was raised above the head of the Master. Stern indeed
was his face at that moment, as he drove forth the chaffer-
ing throng. Loud bellowed the beasts as they fled in
terror, and loudly, for a moment, shouted their astonished
and angry owners.

“They will turn and stone him!” was one quick
thought in Cyril’s mind; but it vanished.

Not even the cattle and the sheep fled more unresist-
ingly than did the human beings from before that scourge
and from the rebuking face of him who wielded it. The
dealers in fowls caught up their coops and cages to hurry
them away, but no such escape was permitted to the deal-
ers in money. A moment before they had been sitting,
in their customary insolent security, behind their tables,
upon which were piled the various coins they dealt in.
Of all the thieves who polluted the Temple they were the
worst offenders. A punishment came to these men that
they could feel more deeply than even the scourge, for

4
62 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

the Teacher grasped the nearest table and scattered the
ringing coins on the marble pavement, as he said:

“Take these things hence; make not my Father’s house
a house of merchandise.”

Cyril thought for a moment of the armed guards of the
Temple. They were there, truly, but this was a matter
that seemed to concern the Jews and their religion — not
the guards at all, for the guards were Romans.

There was nothing, apparently, for Cyril to do, nor for
any man of the throng which was now gathering behind
the Teacher. His own disciples were there, and a fast-
increasing throng of sturdy Galileans, whose faces showed
hearty approval of his course.

So the buying.and selling which had so long polluted
the outer court of the Temple came to anend. Oyril was
a Jewish boy, and he could perfectly understand the ac-
clamations that were arising so noisily on all sides. He
knew that the Teacher from Nazareth had only acted in
accordance with the public opinion and the religious feel-
ing of the Jewish people. Every rabbi and every pious
Israelite would surely approve of what had been done.

“But the priests and the rulers — what will they think
of it?” — was a question in Cyril’s mind, and others felt
as he did, for he heard one of the disciples say to another :

“Ttis written, ‘The zeal of thy house hath eaten me up.’”

The only criticism came from one of the Jewish by-
standers, speaking as if for the others. He said, as
questioning the Master’s authority:


THE MONEY-CHANGERS AND DEALERS EXPELLED FROM THE TEMPLE.

THE SCOURGE OF SMALL CORDS 65

“What sign shewest thou unto us, seeing that thou
doest these things?”

It sounded like an entirely reasonable question, con-
sidering what a responsibility had been taken in enforcing
the Temple law of holiness entirely without the authority
of priest or ruler, and the reply was:

“Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it
up.”

It did not appear to be an answer. It did not offer even
the sign demanded, for nobody could or would destroy
the Temple; and the questioner responded :

“Forty and six years was this temple in building, and
wilt thou rear it up in three days?”

No more was said, but many were beginning to treasure
the utterances of the Galilean Teacher, and this saying
of his was not forgotten. Cyril could not then, nor for
long afterward, have understood at all, if he had been
told that Jesus really spoke of the temple of his own body.
But in later times his answer was thus explained. All
Cyril then knew was that the expulsion of the money-
changers was a proof of power by one who would soon,
he fully believed, draw the sword of a military leader,
and become a captain of the house of Israel.

Just then he heard a voice behind him in tones of
strong approval:

“We has done well. He is forthe Law. He is of the
house of David; he should be zealous for the Law.”

Cyril turned to look into the glowing face of Isaac Ben
66 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

Nassur. The cleansing of the Temple was in accordance
with the strict principles of the learned rabbi, and Isaac’s
next words to Cyril were both cordial and affectionate :

“Come thou with us. Thou shalt eat thy Passover
lamb with thine own kindred. Thou belongest with us.”

This invitation was in keeping with Jewish custom, and
Cyril went with Isaac. He felt himself, however, a very
insignificant addition to the party, which included some
of the most dignified men of Cana.

Isaac’s wife, Hannah, was with him, and there were
other women belonging to the several families repre-
sented.

There were yet two days to be spent before the Pass-
over itself; and Cyril at first knew hardly what to do
with them. He heard, however, that the chief priests and
the rulers of the Temple had immediately issued orders
that the outer court of the Temple should be kept abso-
lutely clear of everything and everybody prohibited by
the Law.

A complete victory had therefore been gained. As for
the Romans, or any other heathen, they did not care how
strict might be the religious notions of anybody who did
not meddle with their power to govern Judea and to
collect the taxes.

Cyril’s main idea, as soon as his mind began to clear a
little, was to find out all he could about the Roman power.
As he learned its extent, his respect for it grew. With
the dawn of each day, he was out from among his friends,
THE SCOURGE OF SMALL CORDS 67

bent upon learning all about Jerusalem. They, too, had
much that required their attention, and did not give him
a thought.

The walls were so high that it seemed impossible for
any enemy to get over them. There were towers, and
there were guards at all the gates. The castles and forts
were so many and so strong, and the soldiers were go
warlike, so well trained, the city seemed unconquerable.

It made Cyril’s heart sink, the day before the Passover,
when he went out by the Roman camp and saw a legion
of the men who had overcome the armies of all nations
drawn up in glittering ranks to be reviewed by their offi-
cers, and by some great men who were there from Rome,
and by some visiting princes from other provinces who
were guests of the rulers of Judea. He asked himself
sadly, how could the coming king of Israel gather a force |
strong enough to withstand the Roman legions, of which
so many could be sent against him, or how could he
drive them out of such a stronghold as the walled city
Jerusalem ?
CHAPTER Ix
HEROD’S AMPHITHEATER

HE Passover feast was eaten with all solemnity, and
Cyril went with Ben Nassur and his friends, before
and afterward, to witness the Temple sacrifices and to
take part in the grand ceremonies. He heard the priests
and Levites chant the psalms; he saw the smoke go up
from the altars. It seemed to him that he had never be-
fore had any idea of what it was to be a Jew and to have
a right in Jerusalem, the City of the Great King, the Holy
Place, to which all the nations of the world were one day
to come and worship. It was to be a wonderful kingdom ;
but, somehow, the more he thought about it and the more
he saw, the smaller grew the idea which had brought him
to the feast — the idea that Jesus of Nazareth was really
the king who was to come. It had not seemed so in-
credible while he was among the hills of Galilee.

During the few days before Ben Nassur and his friends
were to set out for home, Cyril saw hardly anything of
the Teacher. On one of those days he went to the amphi-
theater, the circus which Herod the Great had built, at

some distance from the city. He paid for a seat in one
68




“THERE WERE CONTESTS BETWEEN SWORDSMEN.”

HEROD’S AMPHITHEATER ral

of the upper galleries. On the tiers of seats below him
were all sorts of people, and far away, on the opposite
side of the vast arena, the sandy level in the middle, he
saw, in the lower tier, a canopied place that was furnished
magnificently. In it there were throne-seats, and on them
sat King Herod Antipas, Pontius Pilatus, the Roman
governor, two Roman generals, with other distinguished
men, and a number of richly dressed women, some of
whom wore brilliant tiaras or coronets upon their heads.
He stared at them for a few minutes, and at the tremen-
dous throng of people, but after that he thought only of
what was going on in the arena.

There were chariot races; and Cyril could not help
being intensely excited by the mad rush of the contend-
ing teams, while all the thousands who looked on shouted
and raved. After the races, however, came scenes some
of which made him shudder. There were foot-races and
boxing-matches, but these were soon over, and then there
were contests between pairs of swordsmen, spearmen, club-
men, and the like, in which the fights went on until one of
the combatants was slain. Close upon the last of these
duels, bands of gladiators marched in from opposite sides
of the arena, and charged each other like detachments of
soldiers upon a real battle-field. The fighting was furious
and desperate, but one side was soon beaten, for the par-
ties had not been equal. One party had been trained
warriors, professional gladiators, and the other only com-
mon men, captives taken in a recent raid of Pilate’s sol-
72 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

diers upon a wild tribe beyond the Dead Sea. They were
brave enough, but they were put there only to be killed
for the amusement of the great men and of the multitude.
So were the poor victims with whom the day’s exhibition
closed, for they were driven into the arena, half armed,
to contend as best they could with a number of hungry
lions, tigers, leopards, and hyenas, which were loosed upon
them from their dens under the tiers of seats.

“Oh!” thought Cyril, “if our king were to come, he
would never permit such cruelty as this! I ought not to
be here! I will not come again!”

It was no place for him, and yet he had all the while
been thinking of some things that he had seen, and of
more that he had heard, of the dealings of Herod and
of the Romans with such Jews as had offended them.

“They seem,” he said to himself, “to enjoy putting our
people to death, just as they enjoy the suffering of cap-
tives and gladiators in the circus. The king will drive
out these wicked Romans when he comes and takes the
kingdom.”

Cyril had something new to hear that night, his last
night in Jerusalem. Rabbi Isaac, during the first few
days after his arrival, had had a hard time of it; so many
people had inquired of him concerning Jesus of Naza-
reth, the Galilean Teacher, and particularly about the
wonder performed at Isaac’s house, in turning water into
wine. The rabbi had firmly declared all he knew, but the
dread of having to tell it over and over had inclined him
HEROD’S AMPHITHEATER 73

to keep away from questioners. Of any other marvelous
things which had been done in Galilee he knew nothing.
Neither did Cyril, but now something entirely new and
positive had come. The Nazarene, as some men called
Jesus, had been healing sick people in Jerusalem during
the Passover season — not a few, but many. His fame
was growing rapidly, and the Passover pilgrims would
carry news of him not only to every corner of the land
of Canaan, but to other lands—to the very ends of the
earth.

Ben Nassur said that he wished he had seen some of
these marvelous cures; but his regret was slight compared
to that of Cyril.

“T did not think he would heal the sick in the city,” he
said. “Yet I might have known the Teacher would do
wonderful works. But I have learned all about Jeru-
salem.”

“Thou hast done well enough,” said Isaac. “Thou art
only a youth. What wonder he has healed the sick? He
is of the house of David. He is now a rabbi, truly. But
Nathanael is wrong, for he is not the coming king of
Israel. They will never anoint him. No, no, my son;
he will never be the Anointed.”

Cyril was silent. Ben Nassur had spoken in Hebrew,
and the words he used, “the Anointed,” were the very
words which, translated through the Greek and Latin
tongues into our own, are “the Christ.”

Cyril went to sleep that night with the determination
TA THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

to cease his sight-seeing about the city. He would keep
as close as he could to the Teacher, so that he might see
him do works as remarkable as that which he had done
at Cana.

Perhaps Isaac had formed a like purpose, but it was too
late, for almost the first words Cyril heard from him the
next morning were these:

“The son of Joseph of Nazareth hath departed for
Galilee. It is time for us also to go. Get thee ready.
We shall see, now, what he will do in his own country.”

It was all in vain that Ben Nassur and his friends pre-
pared in haste, for Jesus and his disciples were a day’s
journey on their way. As for Cyril, he felt that a mis-
fortune had befallen him!

“T long to see the wonderful works he is doing,” he
thought; “and I shall not be with him.”

And indeed many were healed all along the homeward
way. Ben Nassur and those who were with him heard
accounts of these events from place to place. He had
worked wonders even at and near Samaria. When they
reached Cana, the Master had been there already. He
had preached there, and he had healed the sick; then he
had gone onward toward Capernaum.

“My son,” said the rabbi to Cyril, with great dignity
of manner, “I will go to Capernaum myself. There have
been many rabbis who have healed the sick. It is won-
derful, but I have heard of such marvels; yet it is my
duty to see it done.”
HEROD’S AMPHITHEATER 75

So the wise and learned rabbi hardly paused in his
journey save to sleep one night at his own house in
Cana. He even bade Cyril go forward that very evening,
promising to follow in the morning.

“Tt will be the sixth day,” he said. “I must be in
Capernaum to hear him preach in the synagogue on the
Sabbath.”

“Simon is living at Capernaum now,” said Cyril.
“Thou wilt find me at his house. I shall see Lois, too,
and she will tell me all she has heard about the Teacher,
and where he is to preach.”
CHAPTER X
IN CAPERNAUM

\ HEN Cyril reached Capernaum he did not find

Lois at the house of Abigail. He went there at
once, only to be told that his sister had gone to the house
of Simon Peter to help, for his wife’s mother was.sick.

Simon’s house was toward the sea; and even before
Cyril reached the house he learned that Jesus had not yet
returned to Capernaum. He was preaching in one of the
neighboring villages, and would not be in his own town
again before the Sabbath.

Lois had watched for her brother when the time for
Cyril’s arrival drew near, and he found her waiting for
him in the porch of Simon’s house. Her face seemed sad,
too, in spite of the pleasure she felt at seeing him.

“T am so glad thou art here,” she said, in her very
earnest welcome. “I hope that the Teacher will come!
She is so sick, I think she will die. Where didst thou
leave him?”

Cyril had a wonderful story to tell, but he did not tell
it to Lois alone. Even Simon’s wife left her mother for

a moment, and came out of the house, and some of her
76
IN CAPERNAUM nts

friends came with her. The nearer neighbors had seen
Cyril arrive, and they gathered about him to learn the
news, according to the custom of village folk. He was
quickly the center of a little group of questioners and
hearers, old and young, and to them he related the clear-
ing of the Temple by the Teacher of Galilee. Yet they
were not so much impressed by the stories of cures, for
these Cyril had heard of but had not seen.

“Thou shouldst have remained with him,” said Lois,
reproachfully. “Then thou couldst have told us more of
what he did.”

“He will be here on the Sabbath,” replied Cyril. “Ye
will then see for yourselves what he will do.”

“Fe will not cure anybody on the Sabbath,” remarked
one of his hearers. “We must wait until next week.”

The people separated, and Cyril went into the house;
but the questions of Lois had only begun. As they went
in, however, she pointed toward the door of the sick room
and whispered:

“Tf the Master could cure her! We think she cannot
live. I wish he would come! He does not even know she
is sick. Simon is with him, and perhaps even he has not
yet heard of her sickness.”

Cyril sympathized with her thoroughly, but as he turned
to go, he exclaimed again:

“ois, if thou hadst but seen him in the Temple. He
fears no one. I hope that he will be our leader against
the Romans.”
78 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

Cyril believed that the time for him to be a soldier was
drawing near. All through that night he dreamed of
marching legions and of battle-fields. When the next
morning came he went out to find that the people of Ca-
pernaum were waiting in a state of impatient expectation
for the arrival of the man whom some of them called
“The Prophet of Galilee.”

The Sabbath began with the evening of our Friday, and
the sun set without the arrival of any further tidings
except that the Teacher might be expected to preach in
the synagogue on the next day. During that sixth day
Lois was too busy for more than a brief talk with her
brother, but she was waiting even more eagerly than he.

Sabbath morning came, and the hour (about nine o’clock
of our time) for the synagogue services drew near, but
Ben Nassur had not been seen in Capernaum. Cyril pre-
pared to go early, but Lois was to remain at Simon’s
house. She was sincerely glad to be there and to help,
but she could not help saying to herself: “I wish I could
be at the synagogue, and that I could see and hear him!”

The first thing that Cyril saw to interest him that Sab-
bath morning was the throng passing along the street
toward the synagogue, with the Teacher. He had walked
several miles to reach the synagogue, and some of his
followers had come all the way with him.

“There is Ben Nassur,” exclaimed Cyril. “But who
is that behind him?”

The very strict rabbi had strained a point and had


RABBI BEN NASSUR AND THE THRONG BEFORE THE HOUSE OF SIMON PETER.

IN CAPERNAUM 81

walked further than the Law allowed on the Sabbath, in
order to attend these synagogue services. The throng
was dense, so that the Teacher and his disciples advanced
slowly. Among the crowd walked a tall, haggard, wild-
eyed man, to whom no other spoke, and from whose
parched and panting lips no sound was uttered.

“Ts he insane?” whispered Cyril to Ben Nassur, when
they met and when the rabbi had greeted his young
kinsman.

“Not so,” responded Ben Nassur. “He hath a demon,
itis said. Such cases are more and more numerous, now-
adays. Only the chief priests can aid these sufferers —
they and the most learned rabbis.”

Cyril had heard that even the rabbis and the priests
avoided undertaking to remedy these evils, which some
called casting out unclean spirits, and he asked the
question, “What is this they call a ‘demon’?”

“No man knoweth,” calmly replied the rabbi. “But I
have thought that Herod hath one,” he added thought-
fully.

During all the usual opening services the Teacher sat
in silence, but afterward a parchment copy of the Scrip-
tures was handed him, and he read from it several pas-
sages. Then he rolled up the parchment, handed it back
to its keeper and began to speak.

Cyril was leaning forward to listen, when he became
aware of a man moving close beside him, and a fierce face
was pushed toward his shoulder. Cyril shrank away, al-
82 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

most in fear, for now came a loud voice, as if some power
within the man spoke through his lips: “ Let us alone;
what have we to do with thee, thou Jesus of Nazareth?
art thou come to destroy us? I know thee, who thou art,
the Holy One of God.”

Ben Nassur had risen upon his feet, and so had other
men, in the intensity of their surprise and curiosity.

But there was no change in the manner of the Master,
except that he at once spoke, as if reprovingly :

“Hold thy peace, and come out of him.”

Down fell the man, as if some wrestler had thrown
him, but when, a moment later, he arose again, he was
found to be altogether himself, quiet and sane.

“Ts the demon gone?” exclaimed Cyril. “Where did
he go? What is he?”

“He is gone,” said a man who pushed close to him.
“But what a word is this! for with authority and power
he commandeth the unclean spirits, and they come out.”

Those who stood near Isaac Ben Nassur said afterward
that he seemed to be completely overawed by this
evidence of power.

As for Cyril, his first impulse was to go and tell Lois.
It was all the easier to go, because he could not now get
anywhere near the Master, and because the crowd was
slowly making its way out of the synagogue. He reached
the house of Simon, and Lois listened in silence to his
wonderful story; but she seemed to be thinking of
something else.
IN CAPERNAUM : 83

“Tam glad the man was cured,” she said. “Why can-
not the Master do something for the people of this
house?”

Cyril did not make any reply, for up the street toward
Simon’s house, at that moment, was coming the crowd
that accompanied the Teacher.

“T believe he is coming to see her,” whispered Lois.
“T hope he is.”

He reached the door, but did not pause there. He
walked through the main room, and was led into the
smaller one, where the sick woman lay.

Little enough could any Jewish physician do for the
sufferers from the malignant fevers bred by the marshes
around the Sea of Galilee. What would the Teacher do
in such a case? What comfort could he give to the poor
woman who lay there tossing and moaning?

The Teacher was now standing by the sick woman, but
neither Cyril nor Lois caught the few words that he

. uttered as he took the sufferer by the hand, and raised
her gently. He did not seem to be speaking to her, but
Lois exclaimed, joyfully :

“Cyril, Cyril! The fever has left her. She is cured.
She is well!”

And indeed the matron so suddenly restored to health
was quickly out among her kinsfolk. Her very gladness
for her recovery at once expressed itself, moreover, in
her zeal for the hospitable entertainment of him who had
cured her, and of her thronging guests.

5
84 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

Not far from the outer doorway stood Isaac Ben Nas-
sur. His face expressed both wonder and disapproval.
He, at least, remembered what so many others had for-
gotten—that this was the Sabbath day, a day upon
which not even such ministration to the sick was per-
mitted by the rabbis.
CHAPTER XI

THE CAVE OF ADULLAM

HE law of the seventh day of the week, as inter-
preted by the rabbis, enjoined a quiet Sabbath after-
noon. During the hours when perfect rest was observed,
however, the news of the Teacher’s power to heal spread
rapidly from house to house; and people everywhere
made ready to claim his aid as soon as the Law would
let them.

Ben Nassur had been consulted by several persons,
and, among other wise remarks, he had said:

“T did not see the water changed into wine. Neither
did I see this woman cured. She was cured, she got up,
and came out. JI know no more than that. I do not say
yet what it is best for the people to think or believe
concerning this Teacher.”

When the sun went down everybody in Capernaum
was listening for the trumpet, in front of the synagogue,
to tell them that the Sabbath hours were over.

At length came the signal to the clustered homes of the
city, and to the scattered dwellings of the fisher-folk
along the shore. It was heard by rich and poor alike, by

85
86 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

sick and well, and from every direction they went in a
swelling tide toward the open space in front of the house
of Simon.

Tt was still daylight when Cyril and Lois stood and
watched the Master and the people.

“He laid his hands on every one of them, and healed
them,” said Lois, as she and Cyril walked away, for the
darkness came on, and the crowd was dispersing. “ Cyril,
I heard some voices crying, ‘Thou art the Anointed!’
and as if answering them I heard the voice of the Teacher
reproving and forbidding them.”

“Tt is not time yet,” said Cyril. “If the Romans sus-
pected that he was the King, and was to be anointed over
all Israel, they would slay him.”

“Would they really slay him?” exclaimed Lois. “For
healing the sick?”

“ Not for that,” replied Cyril; “but for being the King,
to raise a rebellion. I mean to watch all night. If he
goes away, I must go with him. How I wish father were
here! He would know what to do!”

Neither his son nor his daughter knew where Ezra the
Swordmaker was; but it was many and many a long mile
from Capernaum. With a number of companions he was
in hiding within a great cave.

It was exceedingly dark, excepting in one spot. That
also was gloomy and strange enough. A cresset, or
basket made of thin strips of iron, for holding embers to
THE CAVE OF ADULLAM 87

give light, swung at the end of a chain that hung from a
dim frame-work high above the ground. The cresset was
about two yards above a mass of iron, smooth on top,
which could be recognized as a rude but serviceable anvil.
This was indicated also by a brickwork forge, a bellows,
hammers, charcoal, and ashes, with other evidences of the
blacksmith’s trade.

The place was neither untenanted nor silent. Not far
from the anvil sat or lay the party of bearded men, to
whom a voice, deep and solemn, was rehearsing the story
of the doings at Jerusalem during the Passover week,
the cleansing of the Temple, and the teachings of the bold
prophet from Nazareth of Galilee.

It was an exciting and wonderful story, for it contained,
though with some exaggerations, all the tales brought to
Jerusalem by the enthusiastic men of Galilee. The name
of Rabbi Ben Nassur and the wonder of the wine at the
marriage feast were by no means omitted. Dark faces,
bronzed and scarred, upon which the red light fell from
the fragments of resinous wood that were blazing in the
eresset, grew more striking in the earnestness with which
they listened.

Some turned to look at one another, or at the almost
unseen narrator, back among the shadows; but one
brawny form by the anvil never stirred. This man’s head
was bowed forward and the face could not be seen; but
one bare arm rested on the mass of iron, so that the hand
—a right hand —lay upon the pointed projection at one
88 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

end. It was a hand, truly, but twisted and gnarled out
of all shape, and its very fingers were shrunken to little
more than the bones.

“Men and brethren,” said the speaker, in conclusion,
“they call us robbers of the wilderness; disciples of John
the Baptizer; followers of the old faith.’ We who wait
for the hope of Israel know that John, indeed, is in prison.
He is bound in the deep dungeon of the fort of Mache-
rus. But this new prophet of Galilee, what shall we say
of him?”

There was silence for a moment, and then another voice
answered :

“Tet us go and ask John. They still permit us to
speak with him. Herod has shut John up, but dares not
harm him. I was with him, by the Jordan, when he bore
witness of this man of Galilee. Let us know from his
own lips what he will say of him now.”

Then spake the strong man by the anvil:

“Go ye to John. Iwill go to Galilee to inquire for my-
self. The boy who was with Rabbi Ben Nassur is my
own son. Perhaps he can tell me somewhat. I am of no
use here. I can ply the hammer no more. Ye must find
you another swordmaker. For if this is indeed the King,
the day of those who can draw the sword is not distant!”

Slowly he arose to his feet, and in a moment more Ezra
the armorer had disappeared in the gloom beyond the
red light from the cresset.
IN THE CAVE OF ADULLAM,



THE CAVE OF ADULLAM 91

There was no gloom in Capernaum that night. There
were only such shadows as the moon might permit, while
it shone so brightly among the trees and houses. The
lake was one glitter of dancing waves, and in many a
household, until slumber quieted all, there were glad hearts
and joyous words, because of the sicknesses of all sorts
which had departed at the touch of the Master.

Cyril did not sleep. Neither was he at the house of
Simon. Lois was there still, although Simon’s wife’s
mother no longer needed the attention of her young
nurse. Ben Nassur was at the house of a friend, a rabbi.

Cyril did not sleep, nor did he long remain in one place,
for he was, in his own mind, acting as volunteer sentry,
or rather guardian, around the house which contained the
leader who would yet, he was almost ready to believe,
become his captain and his king. All night long he
stealthily patrolled, hither and thither, or lay concealed
among trees and shrubbery, and at last, in the dark hour
that comes before the dawn, he was rewarded. The moon
had long since gone down and it was starlight only, but
he saw the house-door open. He saw the Teacher walk
out, silently, and pass away through the empty streets
out of the city. And Cyril followed until a lonely, deserted
spot was reached.

“He is safe there,” thought Cyril. “I ought to go and
tell Simon and the other disciples.”

Tt was a simple task to find them, and then with them
92 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

went out a rapidly increasing throng to gather around
the Master and beg him not to go away. There were still,
they said, many sick people in and around Capernaum.

“T must preach the kingdom of God to other cities
also,” was the answer; “for therefore am I sent.”

So those who had heard him dispersed to their own
places. Isaac Ben Nassur returned to Cana. Lois went
back to her needlework at the house of Abigail. Cyril,
much against his will, was compelled to go to the fishing-
boats and his daily, or, more often, nightly toil wpon the
Lake of Galilee. He could not possibly accompany the
Teacher upon a long tour of preaching and healing, from
city to city, and so Lois plainly told him:

“Te has not bidden thee to come with him. Thou art
better in Simon’s boat, or John’s, while they are with the
Master. I too would wish to go, but I must stay here in
Capernaum at work with Abigail.”
CHAPTER XII
THE HEALING OF THE LEPER

LL over the world, in those days, there was a strong
belief that some being was to come and bring with

him a great change for good. The Jews especially be-
lieved this, because it was prophesied in their scriptures.
They expected a king descended from David,— “ the Mes-
siah,’— who would not only restore the kingdom ruled
by David, but add to it all other kingdoms, so that the
Jews would rule the world. All that was said about “ the
Messiah, the Christ,” however, made it plain that the Jews
had formed positive ideas as to what he would be and
what he would do, and therefore they were prepared to
oppose the adherents of one who did not fulfil their ex-
pectations. Cyril was like the rest: the kingdom he
hoped for was one which would require grand palaces,
strong castles, great armies, and more splendor than that
of Herod or even of the Emperor of Rome. He and Lois
were aware that they were growing older, and able to
share in the prosperity of their people, and they both
were glad of this. Lois feared that her brother, though

so strong and energetic, was growing almost too fast ;
93
94 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

but he was so erect and soldierly, she thought, and he
was nobler, finer-looking, than the other youths along
the lake-shore. Not one of them could overcome him in
their wrestling games, and he surpassed them all in other
trials of strength and skill.

“His only dream,” she said to herself, “is one day to
be a captain in the army of our King.”

Tidings came at last that Jesus was once more drawing
nearer to Capernaum, teaching and healing as he came.
He was soon reported to be among the neighboring vil-
lages, and Cyril said to Lois: “I am going to find him.”

So it came to pass that, one sunny morning, Lois stood
and looked lovingly, proudly, after her brother, as he set
forth to seek the Master.

“T wish I could go with him!” she thought. “But
Cyril will return and tell all he has seen.”

“We know now,” Cyril was thinking as he went his
way, “the wonderful things the Master can do. He has
cured the sick everywhere. And why can he not bring
back the greatness of our nation?”

He was in a discontented state of mind, and he walked
rapidly. As he went along the road, he suddenly heard
a strange ery, and exclaimed: “Poor creature! I must
not come too near him!”

Upon the cool breeze was borne that ery so mournful,
so forlorn, that it might have touched a harder heart
than Cyril’s.

“Uneléan! Unclean! Unclean!” It was the warning


“THE POOR OUTCAST WAS EVIDENTLY MAKING A DESPERATE EFFORT.”

THE HEALING OF THE LEPER 97

shout of a leper, one of the victims of the most terrible
of all diseases. This poor outcast could hardly walk, and
he was evidently making a desperate effort. Indeed, only
the strength of despair forced him along the road.

Cyril shuddered, glancing in the sufferer’s face, and, as
the poor man passed, he said to himself: “A leper?
Could the Master cure him ?”

If there were any limit to the healing power, it might
well be found here. Cyril could already see the throng
at the wayside, gathered around the Master, and he said,
“The leper is seeking him!”

Could it be that the outcast himself had any hope, any
expectation of aid?

With every moment Cyril found his interest in the un-
fortunate man increasing. It was terrible to think that
nothing could be done; that he would have to withdraw
himself from the crowd, as the law required.

Now the prophet of Nazareth, as many called him, was
standing in the shade of a tree at the roadside, and the
crowd pressed about him. John was there, and James,
with Simon, and others whom Cyril knew; but what sur-
prised Cyril was to see, just behind the tall form of
Simon the dignified rabbi, Isaac Ben Nassur.

He had come, indeed, all the way from Cana, to con-
tinue his duty as a rabbi and a keeper of the public con-
science concerning any new doctrine. He had probably
just arrived, for there was no dust upon him, nor any
other sign that he had come with that throng of wayfarers.
98 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

“Unelean! Unclean! Unclean!” There was now an
appeal in the leper’s warning.

He may have feared some hand of local authority for-
bidding him to come nearer. Those near him, indeed, did
shrink away, as he came hurrying forward, for he was an
object to cause repulsion. Still, even while withdrawing,
the crowd made way for him, and the leper fell upon his
knees at the feet of the Master, breathlessly looking up
into the face of the man of Nazareth.

Cyril saw that John and Simon and Ben Nassur and
the rest were crowding forward.

Then came the pitiful appeal from the lips of the kneel-
ing leper, “Lord, if thou wilt, thou canst make me clean.”

They saw the Master’s hand go out to touch the poor
suppliant, and then the gentle voice spoke: “I will; be
thou clean.”

Breathless expectation made an oppressive stillness that
was quickly broken by a smothered exclamation from the
lips of Isaac Ben Nassur.

“Tt is indeed a miracle!” he muttered. ‘He is made
clean!”

Cyril gazed in wonder, for swift indeed was the change
which came upon the face that made him shudder when
he passed it on the road. It was as if new blood began
to course through every vein of the kneeling man, as if a
fountain of new life had been opened in him to send its
healing forces through every nerve and fiber. For one
THE HEALING OF THE LEPER 99

moment only he continued kneeling, in a glad, half-
doubtful astonishment, and then he slowly arose.

And now the Master said solemnly to the man whom
he had healed: “See thou say nothing to any man; but
go thy way, show thyself to the priest, and offer for thy
cleansing those things which Moses commanded, for a
testimony unto them.”

“That is right,” muttered Ben Nassur, approvingly.
“He is truly arabbi. He is zealous for the Law. It is
safe for the people to follow him.”

“But the healing cannot be kept secret. Everybody
saw it done,” thought Cyril, as he looked again into the
now bright, joyous face of the healed man, who was
gazing in speechless gratitude upon that of the Master.
’ CHAPTER XIII
THE SICK OF THE PALSY ©

HE healing of the leper was soon told to the people

of Capernaum. The report went abroad also to

other communities, and many of the Master’s teachings
went with it.

When, a few days later, the Master came to Caper-
naum, it seemed that all the people came swarming around
the house of Simon, where he was staying. John and
Andrew and the other disciples were with him, and so was
Isaac Ben Nassur. Lois was yet in the house when the
Master came.

Cyril remained outside among the throng, which was
now so dense that it was impossible for any more to get
into the house. The words of the Teacher, however,
could often be heard from outside.

From another corner of the little city there had arrived
four men bearing a litter, or hammock, wherein lay a
man who seemed beyond all aid. He was more helpless
than the leper, for this man could move neither hand nor
foot. Still it was firmly the conviction of Cyril, as well
as of the palsied man’s carriers, that if the Master could
touch him he would be helped. The men seemed puzzled

100
THE SICK OF THE PALSY 101

by the crowd, but after some consultation they advanced
toward the house.

“They are going to let him down through the roof. I
can help!” exclaimed Cyril.

They could not have done so if the house had been a
well-built, massive two-story structure, like that of Ben
Nassur at Cana. There were few such in Capernaum,
however, and that of Simon was like most of the other
dwellings, of only one story, with a slight roof, a wooden
framework plastered with mortar, and covered thinly with
earth and tiling.

The friends of the sufferer were strong and zealous,
and no man hindered them. They hoisted the hammock,
and long cords were tied to its four corners. A few min-
utes of work with trowel and hatchet and hands, and
Cyril and the others on the roof were able to lower the
helpless paralytic into the house.

The Master had healed many sick with various diseases,
but never so helpless a man as this. Cyril peered down
through the broken roof in eager expectation, and Lois,
in the room below, crept nearer, till she could put one
small brown hand upon a corner of the hammock and
gaze at the deathlike face whose nerveless lips were
without motion or expression.

One swift glance upward at the expectant faces of those
who had in this way overcome the obstacles between their
friend and his helper. He saw their faith, and turning to
the palsied man, the man of Nazareth said:
102 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

“Son, thy sins be forgiven thee.”

“Now,” thought Lois and Cyril, “he is going to lay his
hand on him and heal him.”

They were waiting breathlessly, for a moment; but
other thoughts than theirs were half angrily manifesting
themselves in the darkening faces of the most important
men who heard. There were among those who so filled
the room scribes learned in the law, men of sacred author-
ity, rabbis as wise as Ben Nassur, or wiser; and their
very eyes burned with the indignant protest their tongues
were not ready to utter: “ Why doth this man thus speak
blasphemies? Who can forgive sins but God only?”

Then, as if they had actually spoken:

“Why reason ye these things in your hearts?” said the
Master unto them. “Whether is it easier to say to the
sick of the palsy, Thy sins be forgiven thee, or to say,
Arise, and take up thy bed, and walk?”

Cyril was looking at the yet motionless face in the
hammock.

“The Master has not touched him,” said Lois to her-
self. He did not; he only looked from one to another of
the scribes, as if he were reading their hearts, like written
books, and said:

“But that ye may know that the Son of man hath
power on earth to forgive sins —” he paused, and, looking
down, said to the man sick of the palsy, “I say unto thee,
arise, take up thy bed, and go thy way unto thine house.”

Up rose the form that had been so nearly without life,
THE SICK OF THE PALSY 103

so utterly without motion. The hands which a moment
before could not move their fingers, reached down and
picked up the hammock. The dense crowd parted before
him as he turned toward the door, and he walked away
with the firm, elastic tread of health and strength

Nevertheless, the thronging to see such a proof of power
compelled Jesus to leave the house and go to the seaside
to teach the rapidly increasing multitude.

Cyril did not go with them at once. And while he was
assisting the workmen who had come to close the open-
ing made to let down the palsied man, Lois found an
opportunity to say to her brother:

“T heard Isaac Ben Nassur and the scribes talking
among themselves. They were disturbed, and seemed
greatly offended because all, even the lowest people in
Capernaum, are flocking to hear him. What has he to do
with them? [heard Ben Nassur say that they are accursed.

“What do they mean, Cyril?” Lois went on, “must he
not be King over everybody when he establishes his
kingdom ?”

“Yes,” said Cyril, doubtfully ; “and I suppose some of
these people will make good soldiers. Father says the
Romans are wise, and they make soldiers of any that can
fight. We Jews are to be the captains.”

Before long Cyril had a puzzling matter to consider —
the same question that interested all those who, like Ben
Nassur, were ready to believe that the prophet of Nazareth

was really a rabbi, zealous for the Law.
6
104 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

It was no new thing for a Jewish teacher, rabbi, or
prophet to select from among his friends or pupils a cer-
tain number who made up his school or traveling house-
hold. Already it was well understood that John and
Peter and their brothers were in this way followers of
Jesus; but Jesus now formally filled the number up to
twelve, as if, some thought, to represent the tribes of
Israel. No youth like Cyril could hope to be among these ;
but it was at least expected that the chosen would be
Jews of good standing, and men of acknowledged
patriotism.

“He has not selected them for captains,” said Cyril
to himself, concerning certain of the chosen disciples.
“Most of them are fishermen or working-men.”

When Cyril next saw the Rabbi Ben Nassur, he told
Cyril indignantly that the latest choice made by the
Master was no other than Levi, the tax-gatherer of Ca-
pernaum, the “publican,” who exacted the imposts of the
Romans, and was more hated than any Roman— even
more despised than any Samaritan—for doing so. His
other name was Matthew, and every zealous Jew regarded
him as a traitor to his nation, and worse than a heathen.

“He called him even as he was actually sitting at the
seat of custom, receiving taxes for our oppressors!” de-
clared the angry rabbi.

“Did Matthew follow him?” asked Cyril, with boyish
directness.

“He left everything, and followed Jesus. He is to be
THE SICK OF THE PALSY 105

one of the twelve,” said the rabbi. “They are all in his
house now—publicans and sinners—and the Man of
Nazareth is eating and drinking with them. I will have
done with them. I will go back to Cana. I can have no
fellowship with the accursed.”

So he went his way, full of bitterness.
CHAPTER XIV
JOHN IN “THE BLACK CASTLE”

ASTWARD from the dull and almost waveless waters
of the Dead Sea, there is a wild and gloomy land of
mountainous heights and dark, precipitous ravines. On
one of the highest points of rock, overlooking the sur-
rounding country, Herod had constructed over the ruins
of a former fort the stronghold and palace of Macherus,
or “The Black Castle.” A town had grown up near by,
with heathen temples, a theater, and places of trade and
manufacture. The palace had been made so splendid that
Herod preferred it as a residence, especially as it was close
to the frontier of Judea, and as from it he could readily
go to any other part of his dominions, unwatched and
unimpeded. Here, at least, he could do whatever he
pleased, and all prisoners were at his mercy.

It was by no means safe for a stranger to draw near to
the frowning gates of the citadel of Macherus; but the
disciples of John did come, again and again, only to be
refused admission. For a long time, therefore, the Bap-
tizer was in comparative ignorance of what might be

going on in the great world beyond the castle walls. Its
106
JOHN IN “THE BLACK CASTLE” 107

kings might come or go; its kingdoms mightrise or fall;
its cities might prosper or perish; and no news of all
could penetrate the solid stone that walled him in.

A deep, dark, rock-hewn room was that dungeon under
the citadel of Macherus. High up, near the outer level,
was one small window, and the door was heavy, barred
and grated.

Its oceupant was a gaunt, tall, bearded man in a coarse
tunic of camel’s hair girded with a broad belt of leather.
He had preached to multitudes, and he and his disciples
had baptized vast numbers. He had actually brought
about an important reformation in public morals; but,
more than all, he had proclaimed himself one sent to de-
clare the speedy coming of another “ mightier than I,”
concerning whom the people who heard John obtained
only a vague idea. But John’s hearers were encouraged
to expect the King who was to restore the throne and
erown of David.

Whatever John had understood or expected, his work
seemed ended, for there was no possible escape from
Herod’s dungeon.

It was ended; and yet, one morning, some faithful
friends who came to the outer gate of the castle to seek
him found the gate open. They were led in, past other
gates, through corridors, down flights of steps, until they
were permitted to stand at the grated door of the dun-
geon. After their greetings they told him their errand.
One after another, they related the story of all that had
108 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

been done by the one whom John himself had baptized,
and whom he had declared prophetically to be “the Lamb
of God, who taketh away the sins of the world.”

Their sad voices were echoed by the vault where their
prophet was now confined. If, indeed, the promised One
had come, why should his first witness be condemned to
the Macherus dungeon? So the burden of their report
and their question was, “‘ What hast thou to say of Jesus
of Nazareth?”

John heard them patiently, but he could not answer
their questions. All he could say was:

“Go, two of you, and ask him, and bring me word
again.”

Not all of those who came had been admitted within
the castle walls. At some little distance down the slope
there sat by the wayside one who seemed to have come
with them. He was a large man in tattered raiment, and
now he sat there as if begging, holding out for alms, to-
ward the gay courtiers and guests of Herod who saun-
tered by, a withered hand. He did not ask in vain, for
now and then a coin was thrown to him; but oftener he
met a scornful rebuff.

He sat there until at last the great gate of the citadel
onee more was opened, the outer guards stepped aside,
and the little band of the Baptizer’s disciples came de-
jectedly out into the road that led on downward toward
the town. They made no pause until they reached the
beggar by the wayside. As they drew near he arose to


“HEY WERE PERMITTED TO STAND AT THE GRATED
DOOR OF THE DUNGEON.”

JOHN IN “THE BLACK CASTLE” 111

his feet, his manner no longer that of a beggar pleading
for alms, but rather that of a soldier awaiting orders.

“What saith the prophet?” he asked. “What doth
he tell you of the Galilean?”

“He can tell us nothing,” said one of the foremost of
John’s visitors— one who had been a spokesman in the
dungeon. “But he bade me and Cleopas go and seek
Jesus, and ask, so that not only we, but John himself,
might know what to think of this matter.”

“T go also, then,” responded Ezra the Swordmaker.
“Perhaps this time I can succeed in passing through Pi-
late’s dominions to Galilee. They can but slay me. Thrice
have I tried and failed. I will go alone, lest the swords
that would slay me should find you also. My hand betrays
me to Pilate’s men; it is like the mark of Cain.”

That hand indeed was a reason against venturing once
more among the enemies from whom he had escaped. It
was better that the two disciples of John should select a
different route, and follow it by themselves. Ezra, there-
fore, turned away from them, and long before sunset had
reached a rocky ridge, east of the Jordan, from which he
could look back upon the beetling battlements of Mache-
rus, far away on the horizon. At his left, southerly,
spread the glassy, gloomy water of the Dead Sea.

“T must see him,” he said. “I must see Jesus of Naza-
reth, and find out who he is. First of all, however, I must
find Lois and Cyril. God keep them! But who can re-
joice in his children during such troublous times as these
bid fair to be?”
112 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

Meanwhile Cyril and Lois, far away, had been listening
to a sermon which the Teacher had preached to a great
multitude. When they discussed it afterward, they were
able to repeat parts of it with the accuracy which was
common to the Jewish children, trained in the severe
schools of the rabbis.

“You remember more than I,” said Cyril to Lois, at
last. “How I wish father could have been there! And
what a multitude there was! Yet all could hear him.”

“T long for a sight of father’s face more and more,”
replied Lois. “TI know it is not safe for him to come, but
he would be almost safe if he could once get into Galilee.”

“Perhaps he would,” said Cyril. “He is now, I believe,
somewhere in Judea, or beyond it, in the wilderness.”

This was the first time that either she or Cyril had fol-
lowed the Teacher so far from their home in Capernaum.
That city was now many miles away, and Cyril did not
mean to return to it at once.

“Suppose,” said Cyril, “that we set out with the Teacher
and the Twelve to-morrow, and go as far as Nain? We
can then take the highway from there all the way to Ca-
pernaum. That will make our journey shorter than to
go back the way we came.”

Lois assented, for it was in accord with a promise of
speedy return which she had made to Abigail.

The next morning came, and Cyril and Lois were among
the long, continually changing throng which followed
Jesus toward Nain, as similar crowds had attended him
from place to place in all his toilsome, unceasing ministry.
CHAPTER XV
THE SON OF THE WIDOW OF NAIN

VEN the greater number of those who were present
could not be near enough actually to see a sick
person healed, because of the crowd.

‘We will keep as near him as we can,” remarked Cyril
to Lois, at setting out.

Others were as eager as they, however; and much of
the time they were compelled to follow at some distance,
and talk with each other or with various wayfarers con-
cerning works of marvelous healing which they them-
selves had not witnessed. It was remarkable how many
of those they talked with were almost as strongly per-
suaded as was Cyril himself that the kingdom of David
for which they weré longing was at hand. So the hours
went by as they walked on along the shady highway
toward the little walled town of Nain.

As they drew near the town they were compelled to
pause, for a number of people came slowly and mourn-
fully walking through the open gate.

It was a funeral procession, and as it drew near enough
both Cyril and Lois could hear the talk of those who

113
114 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

came on in advance. The dead man was the only son of
his mother, and she was a widow.

The mother closely followed the bearers, but she was
silent amid the noisy wailing of other mourners. Of
these some were professionals, such as mourned for hire
at the funerals of that day; but more were friends and
neighbors, and their cries were a genuine testimony of
their grief and their sympathy.

The mother was no longer young. She seemed pitifully
withered and old and feeble, as she tottered along the
way, out from the gate of Nain.

“Tf her son had been only sick,” said Lois, “the Master
would have cured him. But look, Cyril! What is he
going to do?”

At that moment the pent-up sorrow of the widowed
mother burst forth in passionate weeping. The throng
which had followed the Master had paused out of respect
for the funeral procession, but he himself had not paused.
Now he stood so near the mother that her sobbing seemed
an appeal to him, although she spoke no words nor ad-
dressed him in any way.

“Weep not,” he said, and the tone with which he spoke
seemed a kindly command; and as he spoke he turned
from her and stepped close to the bier.

“He will be defiled!” exclaimed a low voice behind
Cyril. “A rabbi must not touch the dead! But I have
done with him. He does not teach the Law.”

Cyril turned, and saw Ben Nassur standing among the
THE SON OF THE WIDOW OF NAIN 115

disciples. He had walked many miles the day before,
from Cana, to hear the Sermon on the Mount. Ben Nas-
sur himself even withdrew yet farther, although he was
already at a safe distance.

The face of the sorrowing mother was bent low above
the white cloth which covered the body on the bier. The
Master had touched the bier, as if bidding the bearers to
halt, and they at once halted and lowered it.

The throng stood still, as if turned to stone. There was
amoment of silence, and then the voice of the Master was
heard :

“Young man, I say unto thee, Arise.”

The form upon the bier arose to a sitting posture.
“Mother!” came from the son’s lips; but beyond one
sob she could make no sound.

A great fear fell upon all who saw or heard, and the
mother’s face, too, was white with awe, but not with the
dread that came to the others. She stood with her arms
outreaching, in a terrified doubt if indeed her son were
coming back. She was understood, for now the risen man
was on his feet, and the Master led him to his mother. In
the crowd, though they were still stricken with wonder,
some began to rejoice, and there arose a triumphant
voice crying:

“A great prophet has risen among us!”

Then, like a response, from the men of Nain came back
another ery of joy:

“God has visited his people!”
116 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

But the mother and her son, with their immediate
friends, hastened into the city.

“T shall go back to Cana,” exclaimed Ben Nassur. “It
is time the very chief priests and doctors at Jerusalem
should take some action concerning this man whom the
people follow. Nobody will know what to believe.”

“T feel so glad for that poor mother,” exclaimed Lois.
“Tf only father could have been there!”

“Tf he does not come soon,” replied Cyril, “I must seek
for him.”

“But now we are to return to Capernaum,” Lois
reminded him.

“We have fully twenty miles to go,” said Cyril, “per-
haps more; but we can go by way of Nazareth.”

But, after some discussion of the routes, she and Cyril
took the shorter road that went toward the lake, several
miles east of the place where the youth of Jesus was
passed.

They reached Capernaum on the following day, and
Cyril went at once to his work among the boats and nets,
while Lois returned to her needlework.

They were the first to bring to Capernaum the story of
the widow’s son at Nain.

Both Cyril and Lois were eager to be always with the
Teacher, although they fully understood and expected
that before long he would be once more in Capernaum.
If, however, they could have been with him only a few
days after they left him at Nam, they might have wit-


”

E-W ORK

EEDL

ER N

“LOIS RETURNED TO IL

THE SON OF THE WIDOW OF NAIN 119

nessed one result of the conference at the door of John’s.
dungeon in the Black Castle.

All days were not alike in the work of the Master, so
far as men could see or understand it. There were days
when he seemed almost seeking to escape from his task,
as if it overburdened him; and there were many nights
when he went away by himself to lonely places for prayer
or meditation. There seemed, however, to be days of spe-
cial power, and one of these came at this time. The crowd
was dense around him; the sick and afflicted were many,
and he healed them. He spoke to the throngs that
followed him.

Standing among those who crowded about were three
men, strangers to those around them. They were sun-
burned, ascetic-looking men, thin as if with fasting, and
their sandals were worn with much travel. They had on
the coarse garments worn by the Zealots of the Judean
wilderness, hermit-like men whom most of the Jewish
people held in great respect.

These listened and watched hour after hour, until at
last one of them stepped directly in front of the Master
and seemed about to speak.

It was by no means uncommon for men to ask ques-
tions, and his answers were always listened for with eager
interest; and there was a silence, for the manner of Jesus
was as if he had said to the stranger, “Speak.”

“John sent us unto thee,” said the inquirer, “ bidding
us ask of thee, Art thou he that should come, or do we
look for another?”
120 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

This question, like an undertone, was heard in all the
talk concerning the Prophet of Nazareth. It was in
another form Cyril’s question about the Captain.

“Go,” said the Master, “and shew John again those
things which you do hear and see: The blind receive
their sight, and the lame walk, the lepers’ are cleansed,
and the deaf hear, the dead are raised up, and the poor
have the gospel preached to them. And blessed is he,
whosoever shall not be offended in me.”

The questioner bowed low and turned away, followed
by his companions. No man hindered them; but as they
passed beyond the border of the crowd that still was
pressing toward the Teacher, one of them stood still and
said to the others: “Go ye to Macherus. Bear ye his
message to John. It is yours to bear, not mine. I go to
Capernaum. Yet I think you will see me again, not many
days hence.”

So they parted, and Ezra the Swordmaker turned his
steps toward the north.
CHAPTER XVI
EZRA’S WITHERED HAND

HE next day, the Sabbath, was memorable in Caper-
naum. When the morning came it seemed as if the
city awoke in a great fever of excitement and expecta-
tion. The Prophet of Nazareth was known to have re-
turned, and he was to preach at the synagogue. All
through the town, too, there were sick people from the
country around, and even from far away, who had been
brought there to be healed. Not that they thought that
anything could be done for them upon the Sabbath.
Those who were suffering must suffer one day more, and
those who were about to die must be left to die. They
were utterly sincere, for thousands of Jews had fallen by
the swords of their enemies rather than break the law of
the Sabbath, as they understood it.

So far as attendance upon religious services was con-
cerned, Cyril was now regarded as aman. He could go
to the synagogue, like his elders, and find a seat where he
would, so long as he did not take one of those reserved
for dignitaries. Lois also could go, but not with her

brother. She and all other women went by unfrequented
121
122 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

streets, so far as possible, and might greet no one by the
way. On reaching the threshold of the synagogue all had
to take off their sandals.

The separate place for women in the synagogue of Ca-
pernaum was raised like a gallery above the main floor
where the men sat. From this gallery, at’ the beginning
of the services, Lois was looking down through the lattice
which prevented the women from being seen.

The Teacher occupied a seat in front, facing the rest,
and Lois could see that many of those who were present
were intently watching him.

“There is Ben Nassur,” she said to herself, as she caught
sight of the rabbi. “He has come all the way from
Cana.”

Perhaps he had come because of his great zeal for the
Law; for he and other wise and learned rabbis of the sect
of the Pharisees had been of late greatly disturbed by
what they had heard concerning some of the doings and
teachings of the Prophet of Nazareth. They thought
him too bold; and some of the things he had said sounded
new. They were such teachings as had never yet received
the approval of the scribes, the chief priests, or the rabbis.

“There is Cyril just behind Isaac,” thought Lois; and
then suddenly her heart gave.a great leap, and her face
turned as pale as ashes.

“Tt is father!” she said, but not aloud, almost rising
from her seat; “he has touched Cyril.”

Cyril at that moment turned, but the synagogue was
EZRA’S WITHERED HAND 123

not the place for greetings. Besides, the swordmaker’s
left hand on his shoulder seemed to be pressing him down
into silence, as Jesus of Nazareth arose to read, from the
scriptures handed him, the appointed lesson of the day.
He read the written word, but he was also reading the
thoughts of the watchful, suspicious Pharisees before
him. He saw Ben Nassur turn and stare at Ezra and at
the withered hand which the swordmaker at last held up
as if inviting the attention of the Master. Many saw the
gesture, and a kind of mute question passed from face to
face: “Will he heal on the Sabbath?” Very different
was the thought of Lois: ‘Father has come. I wish I
could ask the Master to heal his hand.”

Cyril said nothing. He seemed to himself not even to
be thinking, hardly to be breathing.

“ How eager Cyril looks!” thought Lois. “And father!
Will the Master answer them?”

She, too, was now gazing at the Master, with all her
heart in her eyes, while Isaac was putting out a hand as
if to restrain Ezra, at the moment when the voice of Jesus
rang through the synagogue: “Stand forth.”

Forward strode the brawny swordmaker, and there he
stood, fixing his eyes upon those of the man he had come
so far and dared so much to see. Lois thought she had
never seen a nobler-looking man than her father, nor a
handsomer youth than her brother. Cyril also had started
forward; but he had paused, and was now a few steps

behind Ezra, his young face all ablaze and his lips parted
i
124 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

in eager expectation. The countenance of the Master did
not wear its usual expression.

He glanced from one to another of those who, with Ben
Nassur, were waiting, so full of ready condemnation, to
see what he would do, and then he asked:

“Ts it lawful to do good on the Sabbath days, or to do
evil? to save life, or to ill?”

No voice responded to the Master’s question.

It was easy to see that the Pharisees were very angry,
but not with the kind of anger, that was more like sor-
row, glowing in the face of Jesus of Nazareth.

“Stretch forth thine hand,” he said to Ezra the Sword-
maker.

Out went the sinewy arm to its full length, while a
strong shuddering shook the frame of its owner. He
obeyed promptly, instantly, vigorously, like a soldier
obeying his captain; but, as he did so, every sinew and
fiber of arm and hand was tingling, and the veins in
which no blood had freely coursed for long and heart-sore
years were throbbing full again.

“Tt ig restored whole as the other!” gasped Cyril, as
his father lifted that right hand toward heaven before the
congregation.

Shouts arose, and there were many who glorified God;
but Ben Nassur and the Pharisees arose and stalked out
of the synagogue.

“The people are with him here,” said Isaac to his zeal-
ous friends. “All the rabble believe he is a prophet.




[on





“ IT IS RESTORED WHOLE AS THE OTHER,’ GASPED CYRIL.”

EZRA’S WITHERED HAND 127

Even the centurion in command of the garrison is his
friend. We must go and take counsel. He has broken
the Sabbath! He claims to be above the Law. It is
Beelzebub that helps him.”

“Herod is at Macherus, but all his friends here will
unite to crush a man who talks of a new kingdom,” said
another.

Cyril heard, for he had been swept along a little dis-
tance by the crowd, all the more helplessly because he
had been trying to keep his eyes upon his father, still
standing at the front of the synagogue and gazing at the
Teacher.

The latter was again speaking, and now in all directions
the friends of the sick were hurrying away to bring them
forth for healing. Not for Ezra alone had the bondage
of the Pharisees been removed forever from the uses of
the Sabbath.

“T must speak to my father,” exclaimed Lois to a friend,
as she left the synagogue. “I am go thankful! There
he is!”

“My son,” the swordmaker was saying at that moment,
“TI have seen him. Yes, he is the King! He is come!
So they carried word to John in his prison. The time is
near at hand.”

“Didst thou speak to him?” asked Cyril.

“T did speak,” returned Ezra, his dark eyes glancing
with glad light, and his renewed hand moving its firm,
strong fingers, as if to do so gave him the keenest plea-
128 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

sure. “But what I said I know not, only that he an-
swered me, ‘A little while.’ ”

“A little while?” Cyril asked eagerly.

“But I cannot wait here,” said Ezra; “I must see Lois,
and then I must depart. Thou must abide here for a sea-
son, to be near him; and I will tell thee where to find
me. Seest thou that hand?”

“Tt is as strong as ever,” said Cyril, joyfully.

“ Strong for the forge!” exclaimed Hzra. “ Full many
a blade must pass under the hammer before we can arm
that first legion of our King, which is to capture the great
storehouse of Roman weapons in Herod’s tower at Jeru-
salem. But first I must go and show that hand as a wit-
negs to those in the wilderness of Judea who wait for the
kingdom.”
CHAPTER XVII
THE GREAT DRAUGHT OF FISHES

ONG were the conferences that Sabbath day between
Ezra and his children, for they talked until late in
the: evening.

Ezra had much to relate of all that he had seen and
done since he and Cyril parted on the slope of Mount Gil-
boa. Cyril and Lois, on the other hand, had endless ques-
tions to ask, concerning not only the past, but the future.
But Ezra’s deepest interest was in what they had to tell
him concerning Jesus of Nazareth.

“He is the true Son of David,” Ezra at last exclaimed.
“Cyril, thou wilt follow him. I trust that thou wilt yet
be a captain in his army. He said to me, ‘It is but a
little while’ We must be ready. I am thankful that my
own hand can once more swing the hammer and draw the
sword! Thou art grown tall and strong; and thou hast
studied the Roman legions. Thou wilt yet throw a pilum
as far as Pontius himself, but thou hast yet to learn to
put a legion in line, and thou knowest little about the
handling of a shield.”

“JT have practised with a wooden shield,” said Cyril.
129
130 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

“T could catch whatever the Capernaum fisher-boys could
throw. We made a game of it on the beach.”

“That is well,” said Ezra, soberly; “but the battle-
shield is heavier. Thou must harden thy left arm for it
with boxing and lifting. Not many men can lift quickly
the buckler of a Roman legionary.”

“The soldier I pelted across the Kishon could handle
his shield well,” said Cyril, “ or he would have fared ill.”

When it was time to rest, Ezra went to the house of a
friend, a disciple of John the Baptizer.

All day, and into the evening, the Master had been
preaching and healing, and people said that in the morn-
ing he would be on the shore of the lake.

“T shall be there,” Ezra had said. “I must hear him
once more before I return to Judea. I think I shall have
somewhat to send to the Baptizer, in the dungeon of the
Black Castle.” ;

Just as Cyril and Lois parted, she said :

“JT wish you could see the tallith I am working for
Nathanael of Cana. He ordered it when he came here to
listen to the Teacher. He was here again to-day. He and
Isaac are not friends any more. Isaac has quarreled with
him.”

Already, therefore, there were bitter factions forming
for and against the doctrines of the prophet of Nazareth.
Many who had been friendly were becoming enemies ; and
it was said that in some of the families of Capernaum and
elsewhere even near kindred were taking opposite sides.
THE GREAT DRAUGHT OF FISHES 131

“T don’t see how anybody can be against one who does
only good,” said Lois.

“All Herod’s people oppose him,” said Cyril, ‘and
rabbis like Isaac.”

Ezra and his son and daughter were among the great
crowd that gathered on the beach the next morning.

Closer and closer pressed the eager multitude, and the
little company of disciples with whom the Master stood
was compelled to give way. They were at the head of a
little cove and there were several boats there, pulled up
on the sand.

“That is Simon’s boat,’ whispered Cyril to Lois.
“There are no fish in it, and he has left his nets there.
Perhaps he means to try again.”

“Look!” she replied. “The Teacher is getting into
the boat with his disciples. He can preach from the boat
without being pressed upon by the multitude.”

The Pharisees and other enemies were there, listening
as intently as did even Ezra. Every now and then Ezra’s
right hand was thrust out as if it were grasping some-
thing, and more than once it went to his left side, where
a sword might hang; and his face glowed with enthu-
siasm. Cyril and Lois glanced back and forth from their
father’s face to that of the Master.

Simon pushed his boat into the lake, aided by other
fishermen, for it was large and heavy, and they anchored
it not many feet from the shore. The land came down
around the little cove somewhat steeply, and all the throng
132 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

on the grassy slope, down to the gravel of the shore,
could both hear and see. ;

Parable after parable was told, like so many pictures
painted in words.

At length the discourse was at an end, and the Master
spoke to Simon the fisherman:

“Launch out into the deep, and let down your nets for
a draught.”

“Master,” replied Simon, “we have toiled all the night,
and have taken nothing; nevertheless, at thy word I will
let down the net.”

The Master sat silently at the stern of the boat while
the fishermen made their cast. It was a large, heavy net,
that required three or four men to handle it. No wonder
even strong men should grow weary casting such a net
as that, and dragging it back empty through the water.
There came a shout from the boat, the moment after the
net was thrown, and then another.

“Tois,” exclaimed Cyril, “it is so full they cannot pull
itin! Father, let us get John’s boat! It belongs to him
and James. Quick!”

Simon and the rest were already beckoning and calling,
and the second boat started as if of itself, so prompt and
vigorous were the hands that sent it from the shore.

All the people along the shore could now see that the
great net was actually breaking with its multitude of
fishes, and the fishermen of both parties were lifting out
the catch with their hands.
THE GREAT DRAUGHT OF FISHES 133

“This boat can carry no more,” said Cyril, a few minutes
later. “She is deep in the water now.”

Simon, in the other boat, fell upon his knees before the
Master, saying: “Depart from me; for I am a sinful
man, O Lord!”

The others looked on in astonished silence, but the
answer was heard by all:

“Fear not; for henceforth thou shalt catch men.”

The boats were pulled to the shore, towing the net with
the fishes that remained in it; but when it got there the
catch had to be cared for by others, for Simon and An-
drew and John and James, and the rest who were of the
Twelve, seemed to care no more for boats or nets or fish.
They at once left all behind them, and walked away with
Jesus into Capernaum.

It was late that evening when Ezra and his son stood
face to face in a lonely, rocky place, a mile or so south of
Capernaum.

“T think they have already ordered my arrest,” said
Hzra. “Once in prison, I should never be released. They
might send me to the galleys, for they need strong
rowers and care little whence they come.”

“We shall drive them all out some day,” said Cyril,
bitterly. “They treat us worse than if we were dogs.”

“Our day is coming,” replied Ezra. “T shall be ready,
whether it be sooner or later. Be thou also ready, and
leave the day and the hour to the Leader. must wait for orders.”
134 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

They bade each other farewell, and Ezra disappeared
among the rocks and shadowy trees, while his son turned
toward Capernaum. The boy’s heart was hot and angry,
full of hatred for the men who were ready to slay his
father, and, indeed, were oppressing his entire people.
CHAPTER XVIII
THE STORM THAT WAS CALMED

HERE were long intervals when even the friends of
Jesus in Capernaum, which they regarded as his
home, had but uncertain information as to what precise
part of the country he was visiting. News of his intended
return at any time, however, was sure to come well in
advance of his arrival. There came a day when such an
announcement had been bringing into the town crowds
of people. Some of them had come at a venture from
long distances. It was a day for suspending ordinary
work and trade; but it was more than ever manifest that
the enemies and detractors of Jesus were bitter and busy.
Of these, the more active, if not the greater number, were
men who, like Ben Nassur, were in the habit of speaking
with something of authority. They had been greatly en-
couraged by assurances coming from Jerusalem that the
prophet of Nazareth was not recognized by the learned
doctors, the priests, and dignitaries of the Holy City.
The crowd began to gather early at the shore of the
lake, and Jesus was already there to heal the sick, and to

put into the minds of men, even those who came out of
135
136 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

mere curiosity, such parables as could not easily be for-
gotten.

Greater grew the throng, and it pressed him more and
more closely. There was no means for compelling order
or forbearance. Friends and enemies alike jostled one
another for the nearest places. If there was a kind of lull
at noon, it was only that the struggle might begin again
soon afterwards.

Lois listened until weariness overcame her, but only
once did she come near enough to see the Master’s face.
Cyril, too, was there, and late in the day, Simon Peter,
standing near the Master, saw the boy in the crowd and
beckoned to him.

“Go thou,” said Simon, speaking low to Cyril, “and get
my boat. Have it ready at the shore. The Master will
cross to the other side. They press upon him.”

Away went Cyril, glad indeed of such an errand, for it
seemed like a beginning of service to the Master. As for
the boat, he knew where it lay. It would have been too
heavy for him to manage in the open lake, but he could
loosen its fastenings and slowly scull it along until he
reached a place opposite the little point to which Jesus
and his disciples were making their way, hampered by
the eager multitude.

It was growing late, but the Teacher could hardly have
retreated into Capernaum. It would have been of little
use to have sought rest or retirement in any house. So
it was really as to a kind of refuge that he stepped into
THE STORM THAT WAS CALMED 137

the boat when it was sculled to the shore. He was at once
followed by certain of his disciples, and they promptly
took the oars.

The day’s work was done, both its healing and its
preaching, and the boat went swiftly over the water.

The Master was in sore need of rest, after so long a toil,
and before many minutes, Cyril heard one of those in the
boat whisper to another:

“See; he sleeps.”

“ How tired he must have been!” was the other’s reply.

The gentle motion of the boat, rising and falling over
wave after wave, had caused the Master to fall asleep, and
he lay on a pallet-cushion in the stern.

It was the first time that Cyril had seen the Master’s
face when it was at rest. Cyril had always seen him
either speaking or listening to others, or intent upon some
happening.

The face was uncovered only for a moment, for one of
the disciples gently spread out a scarf to protect it from
the flying spray carried on the wind, which was rising
fast. It was one of the sudden storms so common on the
Sea of Gennesaret, which were so dangerous to the light
fishing-craft, as well as to the gaudy pleasure-boats of the
dwellers in the palaces along the shore. Fierce hurricanes
would at times sweep down upon the little sea, almost
without notice, and dash its surface into foaming billows
as difficult to deal with as those of the great seas.

On toiled the rowers, but they made slow headway;
138 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

and manifestly the storm was increasing. The creaking
of the oars, the crash of the waves, the roar of the tempest,
the shouts of the frightened crew made no impression
upon the over-wearied sleeper at the stern of the boat.

He slept soundly even when the waters came surging
in over the gunwales, and the oarsmen were almost hurled
from their seats.

Cyril was not rowing, and he had therefore perched
himself at the prow, where he could look back upon all in
the boat. He could make out only terrified faces dimly
visible between blinding drifts of sea-spray.

“Master!” he heard shouted loudly by one of the dis-
ciples, and then he saw another actually seizing the
sleeper’s hand to awaken him, while he exclaimed:

“Lord, save us: we perish!”

The sea was pouring into the boat, and it seemed all too
late for any power to oppose that tempest.

“We shall surely go down!” thought Cyril; but he saw
the awakened Master arise and look calmly around upon
the tossing water.

“Why are ye fearful, O ye of little faith?” he said to
the disciples.

Then Jesus seemed to rebuke the winds and the sea,
and there was a great calm. No man among those in the
boat said a word to the Master as they took to their oars
and pulled away; but Cyril heard them murmur, rev-
erently, astonished, to one another: “ What manner of
man is this, that even the winds and the sea obey him!”


“CYRIL SAT BY THE BOAT FOR A WHILE.”

THE STORM THAT WAS CALMED 141

The night was far spent when the boat touched the
shore on the easterly side of the lake. It had been a night
of great apparent peril, and such was the wonder at the
Master’s power that all on board were thoughtful and si-
lent. Hardly a word was spoken now, as they one by one
stepped ashore. The Master himself was evidently re-
covered from his great fatigue, and he led the way up the
sloping shore, followed by his disciples.

“Thou canst put up the light sail safely,” said Simon
Peter to Cyril. “Therefore take thou the boat back to
Capernaum. We can obtain another if we need one.”

So he walked away, and Cyril prepared to do as he was
bidden, but he sat by the boat for a while, trying to recall
the picture of the hurricane in the night, the terrified dis-
ciples, the half-filled boat, and the Master speaking to the
waves and rebuking the fierce gusts of the storm.

The idea was taking shape in Cyril’s mind, although he
was hardly conscious of this, that he whom even the ele-
ments obeyed was something more than man.

Cyril put up the sail. It was small, and it could be used
to advantage only when the wind was favorable. There
was so little wind that not only was there no danger, but
hour after hour went by tediously while the boat floated
homeward, hardly leaving a ripple in her wake.
CHAPTER XIX
THE RABBI’S CURSE

A OTHER summer had passed, and the pleasant au-
tumn weather had arrived. With it had come
abundant crops for those who raised them, but there was
little profit to the landholders, because of the excessive
taxes and other exactions which their oppressors laid
upon them.

As for the Prophet, the Teacher, the Man of Nazareth,
the Roman officers and the servants of Herod were not
disturbed about him. There was no danger to the Romans
from him, for, month after month, he devoted himself to
healing the sick and to preaching. There was not so much
as a sword or a shield displayed among all who followed
him.

The Jewish rulers, priests, and scribes, however, felt
differently ; for even the most learned rabbis understood
that their influence over the people was lessening. Here
was one, they had learned, who in all his teachings hardly
ever quoted from any rabbi, but spoke as if he himself
were the only authority required, except when he referred
to the Scriptures themselves, the books of the Prophets,

142
THE RABBIS. CURSE 143

or the Psalms of David. John the Baptizer had done the
same, in part, for he had denounced even the highest
Pharisees. John was now safely shut up in the Black
Castle; but what was to be done with this man, who did
not scruple to compare the Pharisees to vipers?

These men were growing more bitter and more threaten-
ing every day; and each new exhibition of power seemed
only to harden their hearts against the Man of Nazareth,
because it increased his influence over the people.

Cyril was: beginning to be impatient for the restoration
of the kingdom of David, and he grew more and more
dissatisfied and restless until, one evening, he came to
Lois, at Abigail’s, with a determined look on his face.
He had said but a few words before he suddenly declared:

“T mean to go to Jerusalem to keep the Feast of Taber-
nacles.”

He may have expected her to be surprised, but a pleased
light sprang into her face, and she was silent for a mo-
ment. Then she replied with cordial sympathy:

“T did not tell thee, but I had thought of it — for thee,
not for me. I have thought thou mightest-find father.
He would be so glad, and so wouldst thou.” .

“T have saved money enough,” Cyril said. es

“Thou wilt need it all,” said Lois, thoughtfully; “but
I have made thee a good new abba, out of some cloth
Abigail gave to me. Thou canst buy thee a new tunic.
Then thou wilt not look like a beggar, on the way or in
the city.”

8
144 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

Cyril thanked his sister, but she had given more thought
to his personal appearance than had Cyril himself. He
told her, when she showed him the new abba, that the
only change of costume he really longed to make was to
change his turban for a helmet, and his tunic for a coat
of mail.

“T saw father in armor once,” exclaimed Lois, “when I
was a little girl. It was like a Roman centurion’s, and I
thought he looked so brave! I am glad he was a warrior,
but I hope thou wilt not have to put on mail. Father
would be as good a soldier as any Roman, now his right
hand is whole. But thou wilt be prudent, Cyril? Thou
wilt not do anything foolish? Thou wilt come back safe
from Jerusalem ?”

“Many go safely every year,” said Cyril, reassuringly.
“But I shall find father —I know I shall—and I must
do as he says. A host of Galileans will attend the feast
this year.”

The large number of visitors to Jerusalem was because
of the excellent harvests, for the Feast of the Tabernacles
among the Jews somewhat corresponded in character to
the American Thanksgiving Day. It came earlier, be-
cause the season in Palestine is earlier. It was celebrated
in October, after all the principal crops had been gathered
in the colder hill country as well as in the warm and
fertile valleys.

Simple were the preparations required by Cyril, a hardy
fisher-boy. With new sandals, robe, and tunic, and with
THE RABBIS CURSE 145

more than ten shekels, in varied coin, hoarded for his
traveling expenses, he was well equipped. He did not
need to leave money with Lois, for she was prospering.
She was justly proud of the praises lavished upon her
embroidery, and she had been entrusted even with the
decoration of a costly. scarf ordered by a Roman lady.

It was painful when the time for parting came:for Lois
to say farewell to her brother. She controlled’ herself,
however, and made: him promise to return as soon as he
could, bringing with him a full ‘account of all that. he
should see or hear in Jerusalem.

Jerusalem was the center of the world, almost of heaven
and earth, to the Jews, and from all corners of the known
world there came to it pilgrims who had heard of its
beauty and splendor.

Cyril decided to travel by way of Cana and of Naza-
reth. Beyond that, southerly, he did not intend to pass
nearer the city of Samaria than he could help. Lois had
argued that her brother would be safer and his journey
pleasanter in company with the party of his friends and
kinsfolk, of which Rabbi Isaac Ben Nassur would’ be the
head. In this Lois proved to be mistaken.

Cyril did indeed reach Cana, walking cheerfully all the
way and not spending a denary.. He did not need to pay
out anything for refreshments. by the way, when such
delicious figs and grapes could-be had abundantly, either
for the asking, or wherever the ripened fruit hung out be-
yond a boundary wall. Such was the Jewish custom,
146 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

and Cyril also looked forward to a hearty and hospitable
welcome at Cana.

He would have been welcomed in some of the Hausen,
for instance in that of Nathanael; but Cyril went to the
wrong door. » It was the camearnatt had ‘opened. to him
so freely during the wedding feast, after hig-escape from
Sarharia and. his exploit at the crossing of the Kishon.
Both of ‘those happenings had made him doubly welcome
then, but-latterly he had been doing that of which Ben
Nassur disapproved. Cyril had been much with the Man
of Nazareth, and Rabbi Ben Nassur was offended.

Cyril:did not think of this as he. walked up the sloping

streetitoward the house of the rabbi.
"There was the well, unchanged, and there, close by it,
stood the six great water-jars of stone, just as they had
been.on the day of the wedding. One of them was full,
and Cyril paused to wash, Preparatory to presenting him-
self at the house.

“Cyril, my son!”

It was the voice of old Hannah, Ben Nassur’s wife, and
Cyril turned suddenly to greet her, hardly noticing the
frightened tone in which she spoke.

Her look and manner were by no means unkindly, but
she cried, “Go not into the house, Cyril, or Isaac will curse
thee! He will not permit any follower of Jesus of Naza-
reth to enter. One such was here the other day.”

“He did not forbid him to come in!” exclaimed Cyril.
“Who-was it?”
THE RABBIS CURSE 147

“T know not his name,” she said. “ A short, spare man.
He crossed the threshold, and as he did so he said, ‘ Peace
be unto this house, in the name of Jesus of Nazareth, ”

“And did Isaac—” began Cyril, but Hannah inter-
rupted :

“Do not thou ask what he said, for his words were
eruel. And the disciple of Jesus did but take off his san-
dals and strike them against the doorpost, saying some-
thing I did not hear. He went away to Nathanael’s house,
but Isaac will not speak of him.”

“Get thee hence!”

Angry, fierce, threatening were the words that came
from the porch of Ben Nassur’s house at that moment.
Under the vines from which the purple clusters had so
recently been gathered stood the tall, dignified form of
the rabbi. -Cyril had never before seen him so well dressed, |
for his robe was new and embroidered, his tallith also was
new and fine, and on his head was a spotless turban ‘of:
fine linen: He was evidently more prosperous than for-
merly, and he had more than ever the air of authority
which of right belonged to the wisest, most learned man
in Cana.

It had recently been asserted, also, that. Ben Nassur.
was more learned in the Law than any rabbiin Nazareth,
and it was said by some that. he had greatly strengthened
the Nazarenes in their zeal against their law-breaking fel-
low townsmen. Jesus could not now-haye foutid:a safe
home in Nazareth, neither could his boy follower be ad-
148 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

mitted to the house of his learned kinsman. It did not
soften Ben Nassur even when Hannah explained to her
husband that Cyril was on his way to Jerusalem to attend
the Feast of Tabernacles, in compliance with the Law.
Peace had departed from that house, so far as the new
Teacher and his disciples were concerned, and terrible
indeed were the words quoted in Hebrew from the old
Scriptures, which Ben Nassur hurled at Cyril.

Cyril was really frightened, for the swordmaker’s son
had been brought up with deep reverence for all rabbis,
and especially for Ben Nassur. He regarded him as a
great authority in all matters of religion and the law, and
the curse of such a dignitary was a thing to be feared
exceedingly. It made the young traveler, a moment be-
fore'go joyous and so hopeful, stand pale and trembling
by the well before the house he might not enter. ._He was
as one cast out by his kindred; for such a curse would
be known, soon, to all the family connection, near and
far, and such of them as reverenced the rabbi would
refuse to receive Cyril.

“Jesus of Nazareth hath despised the Law!” shouted
Ben Nassur. “He hath defied the priests of his people.
He hath denounced the chief scribes andrulers. He hath
denied the teachings of the rabbis. Get thee hence! thou
art no longer of my kinsmen. Thou art of the disciples
of the Nazarene!” :

The rabbi was vehement in his wrath, but Cyril sud-
denly remembered something that he had hardly noticed


THOU ART NO

THE RABBI DENOUNCES CYRIL. ‘‘‘GET THEE HENCE!
LONGER OF MY KINSMEN !’”

THE RABBI’S CURSE 151

at the time it occurred. It had been Ben Nassur himself
who would have openly forbidden Jesus to restore the
hand of Ezra, on the Sabbath, in the synagogue of Caper-
naum. His mandate had been openly ignored by the
Master, and there might be therefore a personal bitterness
in Isaac’s denunciation.

Cyril raised his head and felt as if he were growing
stronger.

“Do not answer him,” pleaded Hannah, hardly more
than whispering. “He is a good man. When thou seest
the Man of Nazareth tell him we all love him for the good
that he has done. Do not regard Isaac —”

But Cyril’s blood was rising somewhat angrily, for Isaac
was saying more while the young man waited, and his
maledictions now included Ezra the Swordmaker and Lois
and all the disciples and followers of the Master.

“T must speak,” he said to Hannah, and he turned
toward the porch.

Very imposing, in dignity and authority, appeared the
large form of the white-robed, white-turbaned rabbi,
while his deep, sonorous voice was thundering his wrath.

“Tsaac Ben Nassur,” said Cyril, much more sturdily
than he had thought he could speak to so great a man,
“T go to Jerusalem to the Feast of Tabernacles. I go to
the Temple, but I go not with thee. Seest thou these
water-pots? They witness against thee. So witnesseth
the right hand of my father Ezra. Thou knowest that
Jesus is the son of David, and I—the son of Ezra the
152 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

Swordmaker —I am of his disciples, even as thou hast
said. I believe he is the king who is to redeem Israel.
My father.also believes in him.”

Bitter and terrible were the Hebrew words of Ben Nas-
sur as Cyril turned and strode down the street again.
Hannah went into the house, weeping; but her young
kinsman did not pause in his rapid walking until he was
more than a mile beyond the gate of Cana.

There he stood still for a moment, and looked back, as
if in.deep thought... Then he said aloud:

“T will go onto Jerusalem alone. I do not need the
company of Isaac and his Galileans. I will worship in the
Temple, and I will offer my sacrifices. Iwill see my father.
But on my way I will enter into no house nor sleep under
any roof, lest it fall on me, I shall be safe from the curse
of Isaac Ben Nassur and the Law after I have offered
my lamb on the altar of burnt offering.”
CHAPTER: XX
THE TOWER IN SILOAM

NLY a few days after his parting with Hannah at

the well in Cana, and on a brilliant October morn-

ing, Cyril stood upon a mount from which he could look

across the valley through which the brook Kedron runs,

and see the white walls and the towers and the Temple

of the holy city—Jerusalem. Around him on the hill
were scattered groves of olive-trees.

“No,” he thought, “I will not go into the city now. I
must find my father. I must eat at the Feast of the
Tabernacles with him. I will go down into the valley of
Jehoshaphat, and go to the southern side where is ‘the
road to the Cave of Adullam.”

In the valley was ‘aroad which made the circuit ‘of the
city; following the ¢ourse of the brook Kedron on that
side. ‘There was only just room, it seemed, for road and
brook, ‘so’ densely was the valley occupied by buildings,
and by villas and the gardens’ of the great.” It’ was a
broad, perfectly: kept driveway; and foot-passengers must
make way ‘for: the splendid chariots which went sweeping
by:»THeré were horsemen also; and°Cyril, as he walked,

153
154 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

saw several squadrons of cavalry. He was deeply inter-
ested in a cohort of Roman legionaries whose polished
arms and perfect drill surpassed anything of the kind he
had ever seen. There was a more terrible attraction in a
band of trained gladiators that were said to belong to
Pontius Pilate. They were enormous men, physically,
and were evidently selected from several different races.

Cyril admired exceedingly the vast walls of the city,
which arose above him on his right, as he went onward.
It was plain that no enemy could so much as assail the
battlements that frowned along the edge of the high cliff
— Mount Moriah —that formed part of the site of the
city. The entire area was a fort, with walls of its own
separating it from the rest of the city, and the Temple
itself was near the middle of it.

Cyril walked on until he was far down the valley, south-
east of the city, between the brook and the wall.

Near what Cyril knew was the Pool of Siloam he saw
many laborers at work. They seemed to be erecting a
tower; and there was a great throng of people looking
on. It seemed as if something more than the building
had brought the people there, for near the parties of
workmen were gathered throngs of Jews, talking loudly
and gesticulating excitedly. When Cyril came nearer he
learned the cause of their excitement.

Pilate was really a man of ability, a statesman as well
as soldier, or the Roman emperor would never have trusted
him with the government of Judea. Pilate had found
THE TOWER OF SILOAM 155

Jerusalem greatly in need of water, and had planned
aqueducts; he had also. decided that the Jews should pay
for them. Other taxes not being sufficient, he had seized
large sums of the treasures of the Temple, the contribu-
tions made by pious Jews all over the world for the sup-
port of the Temple worship. As a Roman and a heathen,
he believed good water for the city more important than
the Temple services.

The entire Jewish people felt differently, however, and
the rabbis declared Pilate’s project. profane and sacrile-
gious. So here they were looking on at the erection of
the great line of towers that were to support the aque-
duct, bringing water from the hills to the city.

Cyril, as he stood and looked at the great tower, heard
the stentorian tones, furious in anger, of a voice he at
once remembered. There indeed, as Cyril turned, he saw
Ben Nassur cursing Pilate and his aqueduct, as so re-
cently he had cursed his young kinsman at the well.

The tower represented to Isaac the stolen treasures of
the Temple, the plunder of the altar and the priesthood,
and Pilate’s utter defiance of the rabbis. Even Cyril felt
deeply that a heathen foreigner had no right to interfere
in any manner with the Temple of God, and his sympa-
thies for the moment were with his learned kinsman and
the score or-so of angry priests, rabbis, and scribes by
whom he was surrounded.

No attention whatever was paid to the prolonged elo-
quence of Ben Nassur by the Roman architect: or his
156 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

workmen. Perhaps not one of them understood his tor-
rént of old Hebrew words. The architect, however, had
been fatally at fault in excavating for the foundation of
that: tower. Down a little deeper than the picks and
shovels of his workmen had gone there was 'a quicksand.
Now, therefore, as the great stones of the tower were
placed in series, tier on tier, the weight grew heavier and
heavier, until it became too much for the crust of earth
above the quicksand. On the side toward the valley the
ground ‘sloped, so that there was really nothing to sustain
the enormous wall: of stone.

A loud'cry*sprang from Cyril as he looked, and Ben
Nassur turned angrily toward him.

“See!” shouted Cyril. “Thetower! Itis tottering!”

Pitching ‘forward like a falling man, the tower that
was to have stood for ages came crashing, thundering
down! 3

There was a moment of amentradl silence, and then the
multitude-who saw uttered a kind of inarticulate roar,
made up of-innimerable exclamations; for it was the
curse of: Rabbi Isaac and ‘the other rabbis, as many
thought, which had ‘brought down the tower of the Ro-
mans. . Buried;under the fallen‘tower’ were a number. of
the officers and. servants of Pontius Pilate: .; .

“Tt is the vengeance of the Law:!” shouted, Ben Nas-
sur, tossing his arms wildly ; but.a'detachment,of: soldiers
which -had been-stationed there to, guard the, construction
of ‘the, aqueduct, marched. steadily forward. with leveled


“THE TOWER CAME CRASHING, THUNDERING DOWN!”

THE TOWER OF SILOAM 159

spears, and the multitude turned and fied before them.
The fall of a tower could not shake the nerves of Roman
legionaries, even if they had no idea of what caused its
fall. At all events, now it was down the danger was over.

Ben Nassur and Cyril had looked each other in the face
for a moment; but Cyril did not wish to have the rabbi
speak to him again. On he went, therefore, down the
valley and past the Pool of Siloam. He stood still for
several minutes when he came to the place marked by a
fort and tower where the valley of Jehoshaphat, along
which the Kedron ran, was joined at the right by the long,
deep, and dreadful valley of Hinnom. Away up that val-
ley, at intervals, Cyril could see the smoke arising from
the fires which were burning the refuse materials from
the city and the Temple. “The fires of Gehenna!” he
exclaimed. ‘There they had burned through ages, never
going out night or day.

Cyril appeared to be searching for something as he
walked along.

“That is the landmark,” he said at last, as he stood be-
fore a tall stone pillar at the roadside. “The road to
Bethlehem turns off there. I mean to go there, some day.
It is the city of David, and Jesus of Nazareth was born
there. Mary has told Lois and Abigail all about the shep-
herds and the angels and the wise men who came from
the East.” Cyril plodded on steadily southward, being
guided from time to time by some prominent landmark —
rock, or hill, or tree, or running water — which his father
160 THE SWORDMAKER’S. SON

had described, as a means whereby Cyril was to: find his
way to the Cave of Adullam.

There was no general “shop” or salesroom in the house
of Abigail the tallith-maker. There was, however, a front
room where she received her customers, some of whom
were people of rank, and a rear room where most of the
varied needlework was done, and some kinds of weaving.

Here sat Lois that long afternoon. She was at work
upon an abba—the flowing outer robe of white linen,
worn by Jews of good degree and fair: circumstances.
Though not embroidered nor ornamented, it was of pecu-
liarly fine texture. 3p

“T wish I knew. whom it is for,” said Lois., “I suppose
for one of the rabbis.”

“So it is,” said a pleasant voice behind her; “and thou
mayest know, but thou must not tell others. Too many
of the other rabbis oppose him, and it will not do for a
working-woman like me to make enemies.”

“ Abigail,” exclaimed Lois, “is it then for the Master?
Have I worked for him?” ;

A noble looking woman was Abigail, with closely folded
masses of nearly white hair above her high forehead.
Her face told of trouble which may have whitened her
head before its time; but her smile and her eyes were
very sweet in their expression as she answered :

“Salome and some other women brought the materials.
It is for him to wear when he goes to Jerusalem to the
next Passover. And there is something else. Come!”
THE TOWER OF SILOAM 161

Lois put aside her work and followed Abigail into an-
other room —a small one, at the right of the workroom.
She could not have told why such a feeling of awe came
over her as she watched the actions of her white-haired
friend. A large box, covered and fastened, lay in a cor-
ner of the room, and Abigail went and opened it. It con-
tained many articles of apparel; but these were lifted
out, and Abigail took from the very bottom of the box a
light casket made of some odorous wood with which Lois
was not familiar.

“Look,” she said, as she put back the lid of the casket.
“T need not take it out. It is his inner robe. It is woven
without a seam. It is such as the high priests wear in
the Temple at Jerusalem.”

“Where did it come from?” whispered Lois.

“Nobody must know,” said Abigail. “One evening,
not long ago, when there were neither stars nor any moon,
I was called to the door, and a stranger handed me this.
He was a tall, strong man, in a robe that covered him all
over, and he had come on horseback, for his horse stood
by him. ‘This,’ he said, ‘is for Jesus of Nazareth, who
is called the Christ. Finish it thou, and keep it for him.
He will be told that it is here.”

“Did you speak to him?” exclaimed Lois.

““¢Who art thou?’ I asked,” said Abigail. “But he
answered me: ‘I am told that thou art discreet. I am
from the wife of Chusa, Herod’s steward, and from the
women who are with her. That is enough for thee to
162 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

know. They who made that garment for him dwell in
the king’s house.’”

“Then Jesus has friends,” said Lois, “where nobody
would think of seeking them. But what kind of man
was the messenger?”

“Tt was too dark to see plainly,” said Abigail. “T sup-
pose he did not wish to be seen. There were scars on his
face. He may have been one of Herod’s soldiers. I took
the casket and he went away. Now I must wait until it
is sent for.”

“There is no robe too fine for the Master,” said Lois,
with reverence. “1 shall watch every stitch I take, now
I know the abba is for him. But what a beautiful vesture
this is! From the ladies in the palace. It is fine wool,
woven without a seam, and white as snow!”
CHAPTER XXI
CYRIL AND THE OUTLAWS

HE sun was setting at the close of Cyril’s somewhat
anxious day’s pilgrimage. He had met no enemy
since leaving Jerusalem, but he had met many strangers,
Cyril had preferred not to make acquaintance with any,
but at last he stood facing a man who was evidently de-
termined to find out something about the young traveler
before he would let him pass. The stranger was short
and broad-shouldered, with a red face and a closely-curl-
ing black beard. He commanded Cyril to halt.

It was a place where, for a time, one strong man could
have halted a dozen, or even a thousand. It was a mere
shelf in the side of a great cliff. On Cyril’s left was a
precipice hanging above a gorge far below, through which
a stream was running. On the right was the wall of rock,
ledge above ledge — Cyril did not know how high.

“Who art thou?” curtly and sternly demanded the
stranger, gripping hard but not lifting the weapon in his
hand. It was a Roman pilum or javelin, and must at
some time have been carried by a legionary.

There might have been danger to Cyril at that moment,
9 163
164 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

if he had not been warned against it by his father. He
did not speak, but turned at once to the rock, and passed
his forefinger along it as if writing.

The face of the grim sentry of the pass brightened
suddenly.

“ Again I say, who art thou?” he asked, but nodding
his head in a friendly manner. “Canst thou write
‘Shallum’? ”

Cyril’s finger moved along the wall, but he said aloud,
“ Shallum, of the sons of Hezekiah, of Galilee —”

“ Amen!” shouted the sentry. “Name?”

“ Qyril, the son of Ezra the Swordmaker —”

“ Amen!” almost roared Shallum in evident delight.
“T know thee now. Come on with me, and I will show
thee thy father. Hast thou any news? Tell us of Gali-
lee. What is Jesus of Nazareth doing? Thy father saith
thou hast been with him.”

He had turned at once, and Cyril was now marching
side by side with him along the shelf of rock. In his
eager delight at meeting a friend and comrade of his
father, Cyril was beginning to talk freely, but Shallum
stopped him.

“Tell thy tale in the cave,” he said. “TI shall soon be
there. Go on, now, and at the entrance thou needest no
password but Shallum and Hzra. They will know thee.”

The narrow path continued along the side of the rock,
but there were places where it widened so that small par-
ties of defenders could withstand an army.


“*wHO ART THOU?’”

CYRIL AND THE OUTLAWS 167

And now, just a little ahead, the path appeared to end
in a kind of opening of the rock.

“That is where I shall be questioned again,” he was
thinking, when a loud ery of pleasure seemed to sound
from the rock itself.

“My son — thou art here!” and then it was Ezra him-
self who stepped out from another cleft and threw his
strong arms around Cyril.

A rapid exchange of questions and answers followed,
and then, led by his father, the young adventurer found
himself groping his way through a dark and seemingly
intricate passage. :

Ezra put out his hand and pushed aside a kind of cur-
tain; there was a glare of dull and smoky light, from
eressets and torches and a forge-fire, and Cyril knew that
he was in the outer chamber of the well-known cave. It
was by no means regular in shape, but it was about sixty
feet long and from thirty to forty feet in height.

Cyril’s first glance arovnd him showed him several an-
vils and quite an array of tools; but what his father had
told him had prepared him for that. He had not expected,
however, to see so many men.

They seemed to swarm from the rocky sides of the cave
and out of the ground. So must the cave have looked in
the days of David. He had had four hundred men with
him, it was recorded, and Cyril soon discovered that there
was plenty of room for even a larger band.

Just now, none of them thought of David or Saul. No
168 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

doubt they had some means for learning the news of the
day, but a traveler from Galilee, and straight from Jeru-
salem that very day, was sure to bring them tidings
eagerly desired.

They were ready to listen, with breathless interest, to
all that could be said about the Galilean prophet who was
gaining so many followers, and who was of the royal line
of Judah, descended from David, and whom even John
the Baptizer had pointed out as the Anointed, who was
to restore the Kingdom.

Question followed question, and Cyril’s answers became
full and free as he acquired confidence, until at last a
grim old graybeard remarked :

“Amen! It is enough! I am for this Prophet of Naza-
reth. But the young man has traveled all day. He is
tired out. ~ Let him have food.”

“J will care for him,” said Ezra; and in a few moments
more he and Cyril were alone together in another cave,
into which Cyril followed his father, through a long, low
burrow, on his hands and knees. It was like the other,
somewhat, but here was no smithy. It was the sleeping-
place and store-room. Cyril ate heartily and so did Ezra,
and all the while the talk went on. While his father
learned the news of Lois and of the doings in Galilee,
Cyril was told about the cave and about the plans of Ezra.
At last, however, somewhat reluctantly, Cyril told how
Ben Nassur had cursed him, and then about the fall of
the Roman tower near the Pool of Siloam.
CYRIL AND THE OUTLAWS 169

Ezra was a follower of Jesus, but he was a Jew, zealous
for the Law, and full of reverence for the rabbis and their
teaching. He grew very grave as he heard, for he was
by no means ready yet to cut loose from the traditions of
his people.

“Jesus is also a rabbi,” he remarked, after a long min-
ute of thinking. “He could tell us what to do. At all
events we must go to the Temple, and offer a lamb for a
trespass offering.”

“T have money enough to buy one,” said Cyril; “ but
can you venture into Jerusalem?”

“Safely enough,” said Ezra. ‘Many of us cannot, but
unless we meet some of our Samaritan enemies, to de-
nounce us, we are in no danger. Especially during the
days of the feast, I can safely go and come.”

Cyril felt greatly relieved by the idea of offering a sacri-
fice. He felt that it might entirely prevent the evil conse-
quences of Ben Nassur’s terrible curse. Not that Cyril
thought he had really broken the Law, but the rabbi had
said he had, and Isaac, being a very learned man, might
be right.

“We will set out for the city to-morrow morning,” said
Ezra, when they had finished their last cluster of grapes.
“Now I will show you the rest of the cave.”

Cyril’s curiosity was intensely excited, and he sprang
to his feet. His father carried a torch and led the way.
At the further end of that cave was an opening, and they
had to climb upward a few feet to reach it. Then they
170 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

followed a narrow cleft in the rock for a number of feet,
and went down again five or six yards of steep descent,
into a large underground chamber. It was a place for
men to sleep in, but it was also used as an arsenal. All
along the walls were stacked various kinds of weapons,
among which were great numbers of bows and sheaves
of arrows. .

“The Romans took them from the Parthians,” said
Ezra. “Then the Parthians destroyed that detachment
of Romans on their way home, but our tribes gathered
the best of the spoils. Come! I will show you some-
thing more.”

Through a curiously crooked passage Cyril was led
into the fourth chamber of the cave; and into this he
could not go very far, it was packed so full of arms and
armor.

“Year after year has this been gathering,” said Ezra.
“There are other storehouses like it in other places.
When the time comes for our people to rise against the
Romans, we shall have something to fight with, in spite
of all that Herod and Pilate have done to leave us de-
fenseless. We capture new lots of weapons whenever
we can; but we are never seen to bring any in this
direction.”

“Thou and the other smiths are making new things all
the while?” asked Cyril.

“Not so,” said his father. “We can do better by re-
pairing and keeping in good order all we have on hand.
CYRIL AND THE OUTLAWS 171

That gives us work enough. But I have one piece of
work that I will show you some day. Come out of the
cave now, and rest. Most of us prefer to sleep in booths
among the rocks, though there is always plenty of air in
the caves.”

It seemed a vast relief to get into the open air again
after Cyril made his long way out; for, in order to do so,
he had to creep and grope and walk over five hundred
feet through the cavern to the entrance on the ledge.
CHAPTER XXII
THE MASSACRE OF THE GALILEANS

HE falling of the tower occasioned great excitement

in Jerusalem. There were, indeed, two parties to the
controversy. A large part of the resident population was
strongly in favor of Pilate’s plan, and wanted the water
brought in. On the other hand, pilgrims from a distance,
come to celebrate the Feast of Tabernacles, and more than
usually filled with religious fervor, were not interested in
an aqueduct which was never to benefit them. Foremost
among these, and always the most daring and rebellious
of the Jewish people, were the pilgrims from Galilee.
They were certainly the most hated by the Romans, on
account of their free speech and unsubdued spirit. They
were now stirred up to fanatical violence by several other
grievances, including the fact that Pilate kept a Roman
garrison within the walls of the Temple area, and Roman
sentries in the approaches to the Temple itself. It may
have been only prudent for him to do so, but his soldiers
carried their eagle standards with them. They were
known to worship these, and therefore, they, as heathen,

had taken idols into the sacred places.
172
THE MASSACRE OF THE GALILEANS 173

It was Pilate’s custom to come to his official residence
—a kind of palace for public business — during all feasts,
and he was there that day; but he was in a very ugly
frame of mind. Such men as Ben Nassur, aided by zeal-
ots from other places, were arousing their followers more
and more from hour to hour, until at last an angry multi-
tude swarmed around the gates of Pilate’s house, cursing
him in the name of the Law, and of the Temple. They
demanded the restitution of the treasures taken from the
priests; the cessation of the aqueduct work, which the
fall of the tower so plainly declared to be wicked; and they
furiously demanded the removal of the Temple guards.

The Roman governor had not the least idea of granting
any of these demands, and he determined to teach the
angry Galileans a lesson. He sent to his camp for a large
number of soldiers. They were not to come in armor,
but in ordinary clothing, and were to be armed only with
clubs. Strong men can do a great deal of mischief with
heavy cudgels, but Pilate’s idea was to express in this way
his soldierly contempt for a Jewish mob. His men were
ordered to surround it and to wait for such commands as
he might give them.

Of course it was late in the day before all this could be
accomplished; but at a very early hour that morning,
Ezra the Swordmaker and Cyril left the Cave of Adul-
lam, and set out for the city. It was not yet noon when
they passed through one of the southern gates of Jeru-
salem, unnoticed by the silent guards in full armor.
174 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

It was part of the caution of Ezra’s friends at the Cave
that they should never be seen in large parties. He and
his son were by themselves, therefore, when, shortly after
passing the gate, they were informed of the great tumult
at Pilate’s house.

“Tt is no place for us,” said Ezra. “Thou and I have
but one errand. We must offer our sin-offering, and get
away.”

Cyril’s fear of the rabbis and priests grew stronger as
he drew near the Temple. There was no other place on
earth, he believed, where a sacrifice to God could be of-
fered as it could upon the brazen gold-ornamented altar
of burnt-offering, which he and his father were soon to
see.

Louder and louder grew the sound of the tumult in
the open space before the governor’s palace, but Cyril
and his father could no longer hear it, for they were now
in the outer court of the Temple. They advanced toward.
the steps leading up to the gorgeously-gilded portals of
the inner court. Here they were met by a Levite to whom
Ezra at once handed the fieecy offering which he had
brought and had so far carried in his arms. During sev-
eral minutes, however, there had been strange sounds
beyond the gate of the outer court, and they were fast
growing louder. Ezra and his son would have paused to
listen, but the Levite led the way into the inner court,
and they followed. In a moment more Cyril could see the
smoking altar, the splendidly arrayed priests, the chant-
THE MASSACRE OF THE GALILEANS 175

ing Levites, the swinging censers, and all the grand ap-
pliances of the Temple worship. Everything was splendid
beyond his imagination; but he could not look at it for
more than a moment. Behind him, surging through the
gate into the outer court, filling that space, and then pour-
ing on into the inner court, came a shouting, shrieking,
maddened multitude.

Pilate’s club-men had been doing their brutal work only
too well, and, if his soldiers carried clubs only, other ene-
mies of the Galileans (and they were many) had seized
this opportunity, for steel blades were flashing among the
pursuers. An angry mob were now pitilessly smiting
down the Jews who had protested so zealously for the
Temple and the Law.

They did not pause at the gate of the inner court, but,
in a moment more, there were slain Galileans lying among
the carcasses of the animals prepared for sacrifice, and the
revenge of Pilate upon those who had upbraided him was
becoming terrible. The priests and other Temple officers
were fleeing.

“Come,” said Ezra, in a low, fierce whisper, “ Follow
me. We must escape now, that we may some day smite
them.”

“There is Ben Nassur!” suddenly shouted Cyril.
“Father, help him! He is down!”

Bravely, indeed, had the burly rabbi turned upon a pur-
suer who was close upon him with an uplifted simetar,
but at that moment his foot slipped and he fell heavily
176 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

backward. No genuine Roman soldier was near them,
and Ezra caught up one of the heavy knives with which
the Levites had been preparing beasts for the sacrifices.

“Thou son of Edom!” he shouted, as he sprang over
the prostrate Isaac and struck down his fierce enemy.

In a few moments his simetar, a very good weapon, was
in the hands of Cyril himself.

“Onward,” said Ezra, “but strike no man carrying a
club. It is not safe. They are Romans. These other fel-
lows are only Samaritans and Edomites— Herod’s own
men, not Pilate’s.”

It was a confused hurlyburly, but the Roman govern-
ov’s lesson to the Galileans had already been completely
given, and a trumpet in the outer court was sounding the
recall. All the soldiers obeyed like machines, not striking
another blow.

It had been Cyril’s first experience of actual fighting.
At his father’s order he had reluctantly thrown away the
captured sword, and they were making their way out with
the motley crowd of people who were permitted to es-
eape. No such bloody massacre had been intended by
Pilate, and his Temple-guards were now actually serving
as a police to prevent further slaughter. Not a few of
his club-men had been badly hurt, and a number of the
Herodian rabble had been slain, for the Galileans were
brave men and had fought for their lives. One of them
was now ruefully risen from among the bodies of men
and animals which littered a spot in the inner court.
THE MASSACRE OF THE GALILEANS 177

“Tsaac Ben Nassur the rabbi!” heexclaimed. “ Defiled
by the blood of beasts and men, in the very Temple! I
shall be unclean for many days! I have touched the
dead! My glory is departed! Woe is me! I am defiled!”

He was full of sincere grief, but not, in the first place,
for his slain or wounded neighbors and countrymen.

As for Cyril and his father, they were safe now, and
were hurrying toward the southern gate of the city.

“Father,” said Cyril, “what had Ben Nassur and the
others done that this should come upon them?”

“T know not,” said Ezra, thoughtfully. “It is written
that we are punished for our transgressions, but I have
seen the best men of Israel go down before the swords of
the heathen. At least we have made an offering.”

“We brought the lamb,” said Cyril, “but we did not
see it offered.”

“T am no rabbi,” said Ezra, sturdily. “TI cannot say
whether or not that was enough. I do know that I have
smitten Herod’s men and I have seen thee fighting them
bravely. Thou wilt make a strong swordsman one of
these days, but thou. art in need of practice. I will teach
thee in the Cave.”
CHAPTER XXIII
THE SWORD FOR THE KING ~

HOSE were lonely yet busy days for Lois at her em-

broidery work, in the house of Abigail. Such news

as came through the customers of her mistress, or from

their neighbors in Capernaum, had almost a monotonous
character.

There was, of course, a great excitement when pilgrims
returned from the Feast of Tabernacles to tell of the
slaughter of so many Galileans by Pilate’s order.

Still, a girl at her sewing could do no more than sorrow
for all who had suffered. She and her people were ap-
parently doomed to suffer oppression, generation after
generation.

“How I wish Jesus were king now,” she often said to
herself, “just as so many believe he is going to be. We
should all live at peace, then.”

The thoughts of a great many people were turning
more and more toward Jesus of Nazareth. It was under-
stood that the priests and scribes were more than ever
opposed to him. Isaac Ben Nassur had returned to Cana

in a most fanatical zeal for the Law, and all who agreed
178
THE SWORD FOR THE KING 179

with him were expected to denounce Jesus. Not all of
them did so, by any means, for wherever Jesus went he
was doing much good among the people. So were his
disciples, of whom he was now said to have sent out, in
various directions, not only the original twelve, but sev-
enty more, to preach and to teach and to heal.

But many longed for action against the Romans. The
delay seemed hard to bear to the impatient patriots, who
had made their headquarters at the Cave of Adullam.
They had almost nothing to do except to hear what news
they could get, and to talk about it.

Ezra himself, and such as knew even a little of the ar-
morer’s trade, had plenty of occupation; but even for
them it was dull work to sharpen arrows, and polish bows,
and fit spear-heads which might never be used in battle.
Not a great many days after Cyril’s arrival, however, he
and his father were alone together in the outer cave—the
smithy. It was the first time that they had been so, al-
though they had worked there daily, and Ezra had waited
for the opportunity. As soon as he was sure that they
were alone, he put down his hammer, and went to the side
of the cave. He pulled out a piece of wood which closed
like a lid or little door a deep crevice in the rock, put in
his hand, and drew out something that was carefully
wrapped in goat’s leather.

“Father!” exclaimed Cyril, as the coverings were un-
wrapped. “What a splendid sword! Didst thou make
it?”
180 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

“That did I not,” said Ezra, holding it up. “The smith
that forged that blade was in his grave before the Canaan-
ites were driven out of Canaan. I think it has had more
than one hilt put on, and it has passed through the hands
of kings. It is covered, hilt and all, with inscriptions.”

The richly chased handle of that sword was of pure
gold. It was indeed such a weapon as no ordinary chief
could have afforded, for among the chasings at the haft
there were great jewels that sparkled in the forge-fire-
light.

“Do you know what kings owned it?” asked Cyril.
“Some of the other swords are fine, but this is the finest.”

“That is why I picked it out,” said Ezra, coolly, hold-
ing up the long, gracefully curved weapon. “No man
knows if the things that are told him are true or not, but
they say it was one of the treasures of the old Temple first,
and then of this new Temple. It may be so. It may be
that Joshua carried it once, or David. It is the sword I
have made ready for the king that is to come. He should
have a better one if I could find it for him.”

“He may bring his own sword,” said Cyril.

“Kings do not make swords,” replied Ezra. “They do
not often use one themselves. Others do it for them.”

He was speaking entirely as if he were the king’s ar-
morer just then, very proud of his work, and of the wea-
pon he was prepared to offer his monarch.

“T wish the king might come,” said Cyril, “so we might
rise against the Romans at once.”












ED CYRIL.”

!? EXCLAIM

ENDID SWORD

T A SPL

“ WHA!

THE SWORD FOR THE KING 183

“So do I,” said Ezra. “ But thou hast seen the sword,
and I will put it away. And now it is time for thee to set
out for Jerusalem on thy errand. Thou wilt reach as near
it as one of the Kedron villages to-night, and get in when :
the gates open to-morrow morning.”

Cyril departed, while Ezra returned to his work.

Another day came and passed, bringing no change to
the men of the Cave of Adullam.

“He will return to-morrow,” said Ezra to his friends,
when they asked concerning Cyril. “No doubt he will
bring news.”

“As good a runner as Asahel, the brother of Joab,” had
Ezra once declared Cyril, but even he was astonished
when a little after the noon of that day, as he worked at
his anvil, his name was shouted by Shallum at the en-
trance of the cave with the announcement:

“Thy son is here! He brings tidings he will not give
but in the cave!”

“Then they are black,” said Ezra, iunomite down his
hammer. “Let all gather to hear.”

The summons did not have to be carried far, but Cyril
first said words, quietly, to his father and one or two more
to make them send for all who were near enough to be
summoned, and the cavern was thronged with arrivals
from the booths among the gorges and under the shelter
of the neighboring crags. There had been various reasons
why so many had gathered at that time, as they often

did, indeed, and the excitement of expectation was now
10
184 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

strongly at work among them. Every cresset was piled
high with blazing wood, the torches flared, and the cave
was full of a red and smoky glare.

“Speak, Cyril!” said Ezra.

Cyril had arrived pale and almost breathless, but he
had now recovered himself, and his boyish voice was clear
and full as he responded, speaking as if to his father.

“T rested among the vineyards last night, and this
morning I was at the southern gate of Jerusalem before
it was open. There was no need to remain there, and I
walked on along the valley of the Kedron, looking at the
walls. I meant to go in at the Jericho gate on the north,
but when I reached it it was still shut, and there were
guards before it, and the centurion in command stood on
the wall above the gate. I think he was there because of
a mounted messenger who came spurring at full gallop
up the Jericho road. I dared not go too near, for the
trumpeter at the gate blew as if to warn me, and there
were others who stood still. I saw the horseman draw his
rein, and his horse fell as he did so, but the rider sprang
to his feet and shouted:

“ «From Herod the king to Pontius Pilate and to the
High Priest: The sun has risen twice since the head of
John the Baptizer was brought before the king in the
banquet-hall of Macherus. Let all guards be doubled.
Let the Temple gates be shut. Let the camps be under
arms, lest there shall be a tumult among the people.’

“Then,” continued Cyril, “the guards at the gate began
THE SWORD FOR THE KING 185

to arrest every man who had heard, but I fled away down
the valley of Jehoshaphat, and I came hither through the
hills, telling no man by the way — for John the Baptizer
is dead!”

For a moment there was deep silence, and then arose
loud cries of lamentation, while strong men rent their
garments, sobbed aloud, and threw themselves upon the
ground; for these men had regarded John as a prophet
sent from God.

“My son,” said Ezra, “thou hast done well. Rest thee,
now, and eat. Then go thou with all speed to the follow-
ers of Jesus of Nazareth. He has been in Judea, but I
think thou wilt find him in Galilee.”

“Others will carry him the news sooner than I can,”
said Cyril; “but I will gladly go.”

“Herod will seek him next,” said Ezra. “He would
have slain him ere this if he had dared.”

Cyril had traveled fast and far that day, winning high
praise from the tough-sinewed men to whom he had
brought his terrible news. He felt somewhat stiff and
lame next morning, but he was eager to set out upon his
errand to Galilee; and before the sun of that day set he
was again upon the Mount of Olives, taking a farewell
look at Jerusalem. It was not easy to take his eyes away.
As he did so, and turned his face northward to resume
his journey, he exclaimed aloud:

“Tt is the city of the great King! It is the city of God!
The Temple of the God of Israel is in Jerusalem!” .
CHAPTER XXIV
FEEDING THE MULTITUDE

YRIL made his way on foot from Judea through
the district of Samaria and as far into Galilee as
Capernaum.

Footsore and weatherbeaten, but glad to be at his
journey’s end, he sat with Lois, early one morning, in a
little porch behind the house of Abigail.

“T will never let thee leave me again,” she said. “If
thou goest, I will go. It has been so weary a time here,
without thee or father.”

Then she told him her own simple story, and all that
she had heard or known concerning Jesus of Nazareth.

“Would that I knew where to find him!” exclaimed
Cyril. “None seems to know.”

“T know,” said Lois. “He is not in Capernaum, but he
is among the fisher people, at the lake shore. But I must
tell thee about my abba. Cyril, I made it for the Master.”

Lois arose and stood straight up, her slight figure full
of the pride she felt at having had such a task assigned
to her. But when she also spoke of the sandalwood

casket and the seamless vesture, Cyril exclaimed:
186
FEEDING THE MULTITUDE 187

~“Canst thou let me see it?”

“Why, no,” she said; “he has them both. The mes-
senger from the wife of Chusa came again, yesterday, to
warn him. Herod means to kill him, if he can compass
it without rousing the people. So Abigail sent to warn
the disciples. Two of them came, and they carried away
the clothing.”

“Come,” exclaimed Cyril. “I must see him—I must
not wait!”

Lois exchanged a few words with Abigail, in the house,
and then the brother and sister were hurrying along to-
gether through the streets of Capernaum, toward the
sea.

“Look!” suddenly exclaimed Cyril. “Other people
know. Crowds of them are going in the same direc-
tion.”

All wanted to see Jesus, as much as did Cyril and Lois,
and they did see him, but not as they expected, for when
they came out upon the open, sandy slope, going down
to the beach, they suddenly stood still.

“See,” said Cyril, very much disappointed. “That is
Simon’s boat, and in it is the Master with the Twelve.”

“Where can they be going?” asked Lois.

“He must escape from Herod,” answered Cyril. “He
will land on the other side of the lake, below Bethsaida.
That is in Philip’s land.”

Philip was Herod’s brother. When their father, Herod
the Great, died, his will divided his kingdom among his
188 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

three sons. The territory given to Philip was mainly
north of the sea of Galilee. Herod Antipas obtained
Galilee and a district called Perea, east of the Dead Sea.
All of Judea, Samaria, and Idumea were given to a fa-
vorite son, Archelaus, but he was now in disgrace, and
the only real ruler of Judea was Pilate.

Cyril and Lois knew these things very well, and that
Philip and Herod Antipas were not friends, so that Jesus
might be safe in the place to which Simon’s boat was
taking him.

“Tois,” said Cyril, “we have no boat, but we can go
there on foot, around the head of the lake. It is only a
few miles.”

“Tet us go,” said Lois.

The same idea seemed to occur at once to other people;
and the crowd, with all who followed behind it, turned
toward the head of the lake. Of course they would have
further to go than would a boat, but the people on foot
went faster than the heavy fishing-boat, tacking to and
fro inan unfavorable wind. So it came to pass that when
the boat steered by Simon drew near the shore east of
Bethsaida, those who were in it saw the beach already
lined with an eager throng, waiting for Jesus. ;

There was no escape from so touching an appeal, for
all who could had brought their sick ones with them.
The blind were there; the lame, the deaf, the dumb, and
there were new-comers continually.

It was afterward written about it that, when Jesus
FEEDING THE MULTITUDE 189

came out of the boat and saw so many people, he had
compassion on them, “because they were as sheep not
having a shepherd, and he began to teach them many
things.”

Cyril and Lois were there among the earlier arrivals,
and they had come meaning to stay.

Lois looked as if the last desire of her heart were grati-
fied when she saw that Jesus was healing the helpless
and the suffering.

As for Cyril, it seemed to him as if he had not only
succeeded in asking a question, but also in getting a
direct answer, for, before the day was over, he heard the
Master say:

“Suppose ye that these Galileans whose blood Pilate
mingled with their sacrifices were sinners above all the
Galileans because they suffered such things? I tell you,
Nay: but except ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish.
Or those eighteen upon whom the tower of Siloam fell,
and slew them, think ye that they were sinners above all
men that dwelt in Jerusalem? I tell you, Nay: but ex-
cept ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish.”

“ After all,” said Cyril to Lois, “Ben Nassur’s curse
and the Law could have had nothing to do with the fate
of those men. But I am glad that the Master has de-
clared so.”

“Tt is late,” said Lois, after some time. “How are all
these people to find food in this place? It is well that we
brought some food in a basket.”
190 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

The sun was already sinking behind the far-away hills
beyond the palace-walls and towers of Bethsaida when
the Master paused in his teaching to listen to something
that was said to him by one of his disciples.

Lois half heard what was said, and, after thinking a
moment, she whispered to Cyril:

“He has asked for something to eat. Tell them thou
hast five loaves and two fishes in thy basket. If they
want them for the Master, tell Andrew.”

Cyril stepped forward in time to hear one of the disci-
ples say :

“This is a desert place, and the time is now past. Send
the multitude away, that they may go into the villages
and buy themselves victuals.”

It was Philip who had spoken, and the look on the
Master’s face was full of the kindly interest it often wore
when he was instructing those he loved.

“Whence,” he asked, “shall we buy bread that these
may eat?”

Philip answered him in sober earnest:

“Two hundred pennyworth of bread is not sufficient
for them that every one of them may take a little.”

But Cyril had already obeyed the suggestion of Lois,
ashamed as he did so at mentioning the insignificant con-
tents of his little basket. But Andrew had read some
kind of meaning in the question of the Master, and he
promptly added:

“There is a lad here, which hath five barley loaves,
FEEDING THE MULTITUDE 191

and two small fishes: but what are they among so
many?”

“Make the men sit down,” said Jesus, addressing his
followers.

In a moment more, Cyril’s little basket was in the
hands of the Master, and the multitude, under the direc-
tion of the disciples, were arranging themselves, by
ranks, in groups of fifties and hundreds, over the broad
ereen level, fronting the knoll from which he had been
speaking. Near the foot of the knoll lay the provision
baskets, a dozen of them, now empty, in which the disci-
ples were accustomed to carry their own supplies.

“What can they expect?” thought Cyril, but Lois.
whispered :

“Took! They have put the big baskets down before
him. Wait and see!”

The fishes and the loaves were in the hands of Jesus,
and he was looking upward while all could hear his voice
as he asked for a blessing on that small provision.

The Twelve, at his command, took up the baskets, and
into each he broke both fish and bread until it was full.

In awe-struck silence then out went the Twelve among
the multitude. That which was handed to them was but
such food as they were accustomed to, and they could see
the Master fill the baskets.

When the breaking of bread was ended, the Master said :

“Gather up the fragments that remain, that nothing
be wasted.”
192 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

It was rapidly done, and as the disciples returned to
the knoll, Lois exclaimed in a tone of wonder:

“ook, Cyril, every basket is full!”

“Didst thou hear him?” said Cyril. “He bade the
disciples take the boat and go to Bethsaida. He will
stay here, awhile, to dismiss the people. Let us go out
and get there before the boat does. We can find a place
to sleep.”

Lois was tired, and did not feel able to walk a long dis-
tance that evening, but Cyril never seemed to be tired.
They saw the disciples go. They saw Jesus send away
the multitude, while the dangerous talk about an imme-
diate uprising against the Romans died away — perhaps
because there was no one to take a leading part after the
Twelve were gone. Then Jesus turned away eastward,
toward the mountains, and Cyril and Lois walked slowly
along the lake-shore toward Bethsaida.
CHAPTER XXV
CYRIL’S ERRAND

YRIL and Lois found shelter for the night among

their hospitable friends near the head of the lake.

Cyril, however, was out of the house in the gray dawn of
the next morning.

“T must see some of the Master’s followers,” he said to
himself. “They will go after him some time to-day, for
he is yet on the other side. I believe he means to visit
Jerusalem for the Passover, in spite of Herod’s threats;
but if Herod can seize him on the way through Galilee,
he will put him to death as he killed John.”

It was, therefore, with a sense of duty that Cyril went
down to the shore, at the point near which he believed
Simon would be likely to approach the land.

In a few minutes more he exclaimed, as he stood on the
beach peering out across the morning sea:

“The Master is with them! How could that happen?”

When they had come ashore, Cyril asked of Philip,
“Did you go back after him?”

“No,” was Philip’s reply; “we rowed against the wind

all night. The sail was of no use. Not half an hour ago,
193
194 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

out upon the lake, when it was the roughest, he came to
us.” And then he told Cyril that they had seen the Mas-
ter walking upon the water, and that Peter also had been
seen to walk upon its surface. But Cyril was prepared
for this miraculous power by what he had seen when the
Master stilled the storm.

After a little Cyril asked:

“Ts he going to Jerusalem for the Passover?” .

“Tf he go,” said Philip, “he must go through Galilee
in secret. We could join him after he got into Samaria,
or Judea, or into some land beyond Herod’s reach. The
Romans will protect him.”

“T cannot believe they will,” said Cyril; and he gazed
at the Master as reverently as did the rest, for a moment,
and then he hurried away to tell Lois. On the way, how-
ever, thinking of the Romans, he remembered that he
had heard of their quarrels with the Herod family, and
that Ben Nassur and the Galileans, whom Pilate had
smitten at the Feast of the Tabernacles, were well known
to be enemies of Jesus.

“ Pilate is not his friend,” said Cyril to Lois, when they
met; “but Pilate may protect him in despite of Herod.”

“ All of Abigail’s friends are going to Jerusalem,” said
Lois. “She has heard that Mary is at Nazareth. They
will all be there. I can go with them.”

“T ll give thee the rest of my money, nearly all of it,”
said Cyril. “TI cannot travel with them. It will be better
for Abigail if I am not with thee, for Ben Nassur and his
CYRIL’S ERRAND 195

friends might trouble her; he is very bitter toward me.
But I shall be with the King when he goes into Jerusa-
lem. Father will come, too, for I will carry him word
that the Master is coming.”

Cyril was enthusiastic. Lois told him that their first
duty was to go and see Abigail.

“TI will just stop there a moment,” he said, “as I go
through Capernaum. There is no time to spare now if I
am to be in time.”

“Cyril,” she said, “the Master did not wear his new
abba yesterday —”

‘He will wear it when he rides into Jerusalem,” replied
Cyril. “Itis that for which it was made; and the inner ves-
ture, too. Father and all the rest must be ready for him.”

Abigail, when they came to her house, did not share
Cyril’s enthusiasm.

“Yea, truly,” she said, “I go to Jerusalem. Lois will
go there with me also, because I go to remain, and do not
return to Capernaum. Lois will work with me and be
nearer her father, but what Mary and the others said was
that they would go if the Master himself went.”

“T have heard that he is going,” said Cyril positively,
but his assertion was stronger than his convictions.

Even as he hurried away, after bidding an affectionate
good-by to Lois, it came more plainly into his mind that
neither Andrew nor Philip had said more than that if
the Master should go to Jerusalem, he would have to go
secretly in order to go safely.
196 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

He trudged along with the other Passover pilgrims
until he approached Samaria, but there he was recognized
by some enemies of his father, and only by his fleetness
of foot did he get away into the mountains which had so
long ago hidden him and Ezra. He did not now, as be-
fore, make his way northward to Mount Gilboa, but he
was so long in scouting southward, from point to point,
that he came very near not reaching Jerusalem in time
for the Passover at all; and he was in continual dread lest
the New King should get to the holy city without him.

“Father will be there,” Cyril thought; “but I want to
be there as well. Lois and Abigail will not have any-
thing to hinder them. Lois won’t have to work at her
embroidery and sewing after the new kingdom begins. I
can take care of her then.”

He was very sure of that, for he meant to be one of
the King’s captains, and he believed that his father Ezra,
the King’s Swordmaker, would be put in command of a
whole legion of men.

Cyril felt safe and could walk along the Roman high-
way after he entered Judea. He felt almost grateful to
Pilate when he saw the eagle standards carried past him
by some cohorts that had marched all the way from Da-
mascus. They were not under the direction of Herod.
They were not preparing to attack any of the Jews. He
was willing to march behind them all the rest of the way,
until he saw them wheel toward the great fortified camp
north of the city.
CYRIL’S ERRAND 197

Cyril himself plodded steadily on, for it was getting
late in the very day before the Passover, and he must
reach the city before the closing of the gate at sunset.

“T must see some of the disciples,” he thought. “Si-
mon will tell me what it is best for me to do next.”

The Jericho gate was still open—the same gate at
which he had heard the news of the death of John the Bap-
tizer. Many were going out and in, unhindered by the
guards. Nota Roman among the stern soldiers who were
there on duty seemed to fear that the new king of Israel
was coming to drive him and his comrades away. Cyril
thought of that as he pushed along past them; but he
had not walked a hundred yards beyond the gate before
he was suddenly halted. Right in the way before him
stood the frowning and imposing figure and face of Ben
Nassur.

“Thou here?” exclaimed the rabbi. “What part hast
thou in the Temple, thou accursed one? Thou shalt not
eat the Feast with thy people! The man of Nazareth
dares not come. He fied away unto the coasts of the
heathen. He is with the outcasts of Tyre and Sidon.
Go, thou,—and may another tower in Siloam fall on
thee and thine!”

Cyril had not so far forgotten his old reverence for the
rabbis that he was able to make any reply. He felt
stunned by the news, if it were true, and chilled to the
heart by Ben Nassur’s ill-omened greeting. Isaac had
evidently put away all memory of the fact that Cyril and
198 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

hisfather had fought for him, and had saved his life on
the day of the massacre of the Galileans in the Temple.
What he had said now was only in part true. Jesus of
Nazareth was, indeed, not to attend that feast, and he
was away toward the Sidonian border, preaching and
teaching and healing. Herod, the king, was so oceupied
with other matters just at the time, that he could give
but little attention to one he thought a mere visionary —
one whose followers had hardly so much as a bow and
arrow among them all.

Cyril made his way onward as best he could until at
last he sat down wearily on one of the stone steps leading
up to the gate of the Temple, in utter dejection.

“He is not coming,” he muttered.

“Cyril,” said a low, sweet voice near him, “look up.
Father and I are here. We knew that thou wouldst be
sure to come almost at once to the Temple.”

“My son,” said Ezra, “the Master will surely come in
his own time. Thou must now go with us, and after the
feast I will tell thee what to do.”

“It is so long to wait,” said Cyril; but he arose and
went with them.

He heard many things on the way; not the least of all
was the news that Abigail and Lois were not to live in
the city itself, but at Joppa, by the sea, where a kins-
woman of Abigail’s, named Tabitha, had already a high
reputation and a thriving trade as a maker of garments,


































ce
‘CYRIL,’ SAID A LOW, SWEET VOICE NEAR HIM, ‘LOOK UP,
FATHER AND I ARE HERE.’”

CYRIL’S ERRAND 201

and was in need of skilled women. She was now in Je-
rusalem, but they were all to return to Joppa with her.

“Tt will be better than being under Herod’s rule at
Capernaum,” said Lois; and we can wait there until we
hear that the Master is coming.”

11
CHAPTER XXVI
EZRA AND THE CENTURION

HE Passover Feast, always a solemn season, seemed
to Cyril changed to a time of mourning, so great
was his disappointment. It was, on the contrary, a time
of joy to Lois. After so long a separation, she was once
more with her father and brother; she was in Jerusalem,
and they were never tired of showing her the city. She
could attend the Temple services, in the Court of the
Women; but Cyril was unable to forget, even while gazing
with her upon the glories of the Temple and its surround-
ings, that it was still a kind of Roman fort, with heathen
guards, and that the standard over the city gates was the
imperial eagle of Rome, and not the lion of the tribe of
Judah.

Lois was happy, and her enjoyment of her companion-
ship with her father and brother continued when, after
the feast-days were ended, they all set out together for
Joppa.

“T have heard that it is a beautiful place,” she said.
“A city of gardens! And then, Cyril, I have never seen
the sea, nor any sailing-vessels larger than the fishing-

boats at Capernaum.”
202
EZRA AND THE CENTURION _ 203

Cyril also was thinking of the sea; and all the more
because of several serious talks he had with his father.
A clear-headed man was Ezra, and he seemed to have
utter confidence in the wisdom of Jesus of Nazareth as a
leader. It was a matter of course that he had no confi-
dence whatever in the wisdom of Cyril, and was ready
not only to reprove him for his impatience and his low
spirits, but to tell him what to do.

“The Cave must be kept more secret,” said Ezra.
“Not so many men must come there. I shall be there
only a part of the time. At other times I can find work
at Joppa. Lois has a home. I tell thee, the Master will
wait till next Passover. He is now visiting different.
towns, to make them ready. Thou wilt then be a year:
older. What thou hast need of is to know more. It:
were well for thee to know somewhat of the sea. Thow
must see Egypt and thou must see Rome, that thou
mayest be of more use to the King. He may need, some
day, to send out a messenger who knows the sea, and has
seen other lands than this—”

“Tam a good boatman,” said Cyril.

“Good enough for Chinnereth lake,” replied his father,
but thou must see war-galleys and fleets. I can give
thee some money. Thou canst earn more. There are
ships from Joppa to Alexandria. There are many from
Alexandria to Rome. Thou wilt go and thou wilt return
before next Passover, and —the God of Israel go with
thee.”
204 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

“T will go!” exclaimed Cyril, hopeful again; “TI will
learn all I can, and I will come back in season to march
into Jerusalem with the Master.”

Cyril was not contented in Joppa, in spite of its towers
and temples, and its beautiful gardens that are so fruit-
ful to this day. He had seen such things before. He
could sympathize with Lois, in her great delight concern-
ing her new home with Tabitha, after they reached it,
put he could not feel as she did when they went down to
the shore, and looked out on the blue waves of the Medi-
terranean Sea. Not only had he seen them before, but he
was thinking and dreaming of something beyond them.

He was more interested in the instruction his father
was giving him as to how he was to conduct himself after
they should be separated. And yet he found growing
within him a sense of confidence that he could take care
of himself after all. He was going out to see the world,
and the Mediterranean and the ships were to take him
where he wanted to go. Lois felt the separation keenly,
though she was more used than other girls to living
away from her own kindred. She clung to Cyril more
closely, day after day, while he was waiting for the ship
in which his father had secured him passage to Alexan-
dria, the great seaport of Egypt.

“Cyril,” she said, “here we know even less of the
Master’s work than we did at Capernaum. You will not
hear anything about him at Rome.”

The sailing day came, and Cyril bade Lois good-by at
EZRA AND THE CENTURION 205

the house of Tabitha. Both of the older women gave
him good advice, but Lois could only weep and cling to
him as if she could not let him go. Ezra walked on with
him, in silence, down to the wharf. There he spoke in
a voice that told how deeply he felt at parting from his
son.

“The God of our fathers, the God of Abraham, and of
Isaac, and of Jacob, go with thee and bring thee back to
thine own land in peace! While thou art gone, keep
thou thy covenant with thy God and with thy father, and
with thy King that is to come—for he will surely come,”
were Hzra’s parting words.

Cyril had no words to answer, and the sailors were lift-
ing the mainsail of the ship, and a shout summoned him
hastily on board. The last man he saw, as the swift ves-
sel bore him away, was the tall form of Ezra the Sword-
maker, standing on the wharf, and watching the sail that
was carrying his only son out into the world — out among
all manner of perils and all races of heathen.

It was indeed a heathen world into which Cyril was
sailing. It was a world into which the Master had not
yet come, and in which the Scriptures that prophesied his
coming were unknown.

The wind was fresh and fair, the sea was no rougher
than Lake Chinnereth itself, and the vessel was a speedy
traveler. She was not large, and could be propelled by
oars when necessary, but she was not what was called a
galley. Cyril had seen numbers of these in the harbor of
206 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

Joppa, and now he saw more; and the more he saw of
these boats the more horrible they seemed to him They
were in reality floating prisons for the captives, the slaves,
or the convicted criminals who were chained to the seats
as rowers.

Cyril pitied them from the bottom of his heart; for
among the stories told him by his father had been one
concerning hundreds of the bravest men of Judea and
Galilee who had been condemned to work until their
death in the galleys of Herod the great. Beyond that, he
had another interest in the galleys, for they were the
ships of war also, and the Romans had great fleets of
them. Once the thought came to him: “If Jesus were
King, he could have no fleets of galleys. I don’t believe
he would condemn anybody to row in them — even Sa-
maritans or Romans.”

Cyril was at the same time conscious of a fierce, re-
vengeful bitterness of his own, which made him long to
send to some such punishment every man of the oppress-
ors of his people, beginning with Herod Antipas himself.
The towers of the strong fortifications of the port of
Joppa were now growing small and dim in the distance,
whenever he looked back; but he preferred looking for-
ward, standing on the high perch made by the cabin deck
in the front part of the old-fashioned ship, and gazing
out as if he were looking across the water into the won-
derful places he was soon to visit.

Away behind him, a trim, well-built house, in one of








STRONG AND PERFECT HAND.”

“EZRA AT ONCE HELD OUT HIS

EZRA AND THE CENTURION 209

the upper streets of Joppa, had a small but very pretty
garden behind it; and there, in a kind of arbor, shadowed
by a very luxuriant almond-tree, sat Lois, all alone. Her
eyes were a little red, but she was not weeping. She was
thinking.

“Cyril will see very many wonderful things,” she re-
flected. “ He will see those great cities and the temples
father told about, in Egypt, and in Greece, and in Rome,
too, if he goes there. He will see how the people live,
and what they do. I long to travel, to go out into the
world.”

Meanwhile, several miles east of Joppa, at a place where
two roads met, one of them the road to Jerusalem, a
squadron of Roman cavalry had halted, and in front of
them a horseman, who seemed to be their commander,
eaned forward, looking down into the face of Ezra the
Swordmaker. He was now on his way to perform his
errand at the Cave before going to work at Joppa.

“T know thee,” said the horseman. “I am Regulus,
the centurion. Thou canst not escape me now. I will
send thee back to Samaria to be condemned.”

“Tf thou hast aught against me, tell me what it is,”
said Ezra. “I have not harmed thee or thine.”

Ezra had been keeping his right hand covered by his
mantle, and now the centurion laughed aloud as he ex-
claimed :

“Knowest thou not that thou art a marked man?
Hold out thy right hand!”
210 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

They were, except that the soldier spoke in Latin, the
very words that Ezra had heard the Master speak in the
synagogue at Capernaum, and he at once held out his
now strong and perfect hand for the centurion to see.

“Am I so at fault?” said the Roman. “Get thee
hence. Thou art not the man. His hand was withered
to the wrist. Ride on, men! But he is very like him. I
should know the old smith, too.”

On they rode and on walked Ezra, but nothing on earth
could have convinced that centurion that he had really
seen the same useless, withered hand that had at one
time abandoned the hammer and the sword, as its owner
thought, forever.
CHAPTER XXVII
CYRIL AT ROME

\ ONTH after month went by, and Lois was quietly

happy in her new home in Joppa. Her father was
near, and came to visit her frequently. She had never
known a kinder, better woman than was Tabitha, whose
Greek name was Doreas. She was a friend to the poor,
and she was loved by the bright-eyed daughter of Ezra
the Swordmaker. Moreover, she seemed never to tire of
hearing Lois and Abigail tell of the doings and sayings
of the great Galilean prophet, the Son of David.

For that matter, his name was in the mouths of all
men. Stories came with all travelers from the north, or
from Jerusalem, of the marvels which still accompanied
him as he journeyed hither and thither. Not only were
his cures even more wonderful, but he had again fed a
great multitude with a mere handful of bread ; and it was
said that he had more than once recalled the dead to life.

Lois was thinking of him one day about noon. She
had gone up to the housetop. It was a favorite resort,
for there she could be alone; and the housetops of that

part of Joppa overlooked the harbor and the sea.
ail
212 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

“He has never preached in Joppa,” she thought.
“People here have to go to Jerusalem to hear him — and,
oh, I would I knew where Cyril is, and what he is doing
to-day.”

She would not have been by any means so happy if she
had known, or if she could have read his thoughts.

Rome was a mighty city in those days. It had many
a mile of streets and avenues, reaching out into the sur-
rounding country, until nobody could tell where the city
ended, although everybody knew that its center was on a
hill at the capitol. Far from the capitol, but still within
the city, was the amphitheater, or circus, where the most
wonderful shows were given that the world has ever
known. There wild beasts and men were made to fight
by thousands, for the shows were murderous, and the vast
sandy area of the amphitheater was often stained with
blood.

Cyril was walking along a narrow, crooked street, that
led away from the capitol in the direction of the circus.

“My last copper coin is gone,” he said. “I can earn
nothing. The city swarms with unemployed freemen.
There are slaves to do all the work. I shall starve, for I
am not a slave, and have no master to feed me. Were I
a Roman I would be fed by the authorities; but Iam only
aJew. OnlyaJew?” He straightened up proudly. “I
am glad to be a Jew, and not a Roman. But nobody
could capture this place —I suppose I shall die here. I
have had no food since yesterday morning, and but little
CYRIL AT ROME 213

for days before that. I shall never see Lois or father
again, for I shall not be at Jerusalem next Passover.
Jesus of Nazareth will be there; but I fear he cannot take
Jerusalem, and as for Rome—it is quite impossible to
overcome the veteran legions that I have seen at Rome.
All the world could not conquer them!”

So all the Romans believed, not dreaming of the days
to come, when swarms of men from the North were to
slay their legions in the very streets along which Cyril
had been walking during those weary days.

How endless they seemed as he walked aimlessly on!
He was ragged and hungry, and without hope, for he was
a stranger in a strange land. His heart grew heavier, and —
there was a mist before his eyes.

“Thave seen Egypt,” he thought, “and the pyramids, and
the temples of the old heathen gods. And I saw many Gre-
cian cities on my way here. I can talk better Greek and
better Latin. How hungry I am!—and so thirsty, too!”

At that moment he almost ran against a wall, and he
stood still. It was one side of a vast marble arch at the
main entrance to the circus, and, as he looked up, he saw
a placard, with an inscription in several languages. He
could read some of them. They were all alike, and they
told him that the Emperor’s prefect of the circus had ar-
ranged for prize foot-races. One of these was free to all
who could pass the trial race for admission. There was
to be a prize of ten sestertia, and Cyril’s brain whirled a
little at the thought of so much money.
214 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

“More than six hundred shekels!” he exclaimed, after
a calculation — “and I can yet run! It says that the sub-
prefect will see all who apply.” He stood gazing at the
placard and reading it aloud. Suddenly a voice near him
said:

“That he will, and he will scourge you well if you fail
at the test. Can yourun? You look like it. Come!”

Black as jet was the face of the dwarfish figure that
Cyril at once turned to follow through the arch and a side-
door and along a tile-floored passage. In a few minutes
more he stood in the presence of a richly dressed official
who for a moment eyed him sternly. The dwarf had ad-
dressed this great man very reverently, calling him Cris-
pus, but a strange thought flashed into the mind of Cyril,
for he had never seen a Roman whose face was like that
of the sub-prefect.

“O Jewish boy, who art thou?” asked Crispus, in Ara-
maic, with an accent that made Cyril’s heart beat.

“T am Cyril Ben Ezra, of the house of Kish,” replied
Cyril, staring hard at the grim, iron-mouthed official, for
something in the man’s face seemed familiar.

“Amen!” said Crispus. “ Answer in thine own tongue,
for thou art a Galilean. I am Reuben Ben Nassur of
Cana. I am thy kinsman. Knowest thou aught of my
house?”

“Isaac the Rabbi is well,” replied Cyril, and on he went,
for Reuben, or Crispus, asked him many questions, and
they talked in Hebrew, which none who came near them
CYRIL AT ROME 215

could understand. Perhaps one reason why Crispus was
sub-prefect was his gift of tongues. Perhaps another
reason was plain when he said of the circus:

“What is it to me or thee if all the heathen slay one
another? Thou shalt run. I will give thee a week of
training before the trial, but know that I cannot save thee
from the scourge if thou fail before the prefect. Mark
thou this, also — forget that thou art a Jew until thy feet
have told Tallienus that thou art a good runner. Thou
hast nothing to do with the Law whilst thou art a beast
in the Roman circus.”

Bitter indeed was the cup of poverty that Cyril was
drinking. He had put away his pride, driven by starva-
tion, and now a brother of Ben Nassur himself was bid-
ding him put aside his religion. No opportunity for
answer, yes or no, was given, however, and he was led
away by the dwarf to one of the outbuildings of the am-
phitheater. It was, as he at once discovered, a kind of
jail in which were kept the men who were in training for
the races. Many of them were mere slaves put there by
their owners, in hope that they might win a prize for
their masters. At all events Cyril was to have shelter
and food, but the boarding-house or jail of the runners
adjoined great dens of wild animals, and he was kept
awake by the roaring of many lions; for a thunderstorm
swept over Rome, and the imprisoned kings of forest or
plain responded with thunders of their own making.

In the morning it was a relief to Cyril to find how un-
216 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

noticed he was among the motley crowd who were there
to get a right to run for the prize. There were scores of
them, and none could hope for favors. Cyril could not,
certainly, for Crispus seemed to have entirely forgotten
that he had ever been in Galilee. There were training
races that very morning, and one of them was also a first
trial of speed. It was severe, they said, but when it was
over and only three out of more than twenty were per-
mitted to train longer, Cyril said confidently :

“There was not arunner among them except the Greek.”

A tall, dignified man, in a plain white robe, with a
broad purple border, stood near him. Cyril knew
that the robe was the “toga,” but its wearer needed no
ornament to show that he was the person of highest rank
among those who watched the runners. Not a word did
he speak now, but looked at Cyril from head to foot, and
then beckoned to Crispus. The grim brother of Rabbi -
Isaac hurried forward, bowing very low.

“See thou to it,” said the Roman. “Train thou that
young panther well. I see no other that will stand a
chance with the Athenian slave of Tallienus.”

‘Most noble Valerianus,” responded Crispus, “thou art
an admirable judge of men, but I will dare remind thee.
Be thou sure that Tallienus’s slave will run well— but the
course is long. Yonder youth is of the hardiest race on
earth.”

“Tt is well,” said Valerianus, coldly. ‘TI will send him
to the quarries if he lets the Athenian beat him.”
CYRIL AT ROME 217

It was a hard saying, but Cyril already understood that
a Roman noble considered a young Jew like himself of
much less importance than a chariot-horse.

The training-school of the circus was no place for
favoritism; but Crispus now had a special reason for
giving his young Galilean kinsman a full week of prepa-
ration before testing him. Cyril quickly recovered from
‘the effects of his days of hunger; but nothing could take
from him a certain sense of shame that he was to take
part in the games of the heathen and to run a race to
amuse the rabble of Rome. A more cheerful thought
followed, and he consoled himself with the reflection: “It
is really not against the Law. Ben Nassur would say that.
And if I win a prize I can get back to Jerusalem in time
for the Passover.”
CHAPTER XXVIII
A FOOT-RACE FOR FREEDOM

ZRA, the armorer, had long since returned from his
first visit to the Cave of Adullam. He had after-
ward made other visits, and had included in his errands
other places as wild and as deeply hidden among the cay-
ernous ridges of eastern Judea. His wish was to attract
attention as little as possible. He could not forget his
first warning from Regulus, the centurion, who had com-
manded at Samaria at the time he and Cyril fled from
that city. Whenever he was near Joppa one of his com-
forts was to talk with Lois and her friends about Cyril,
and to bring them tidings concerning the work and the
followers of Jesus of Nazareth. The Galilean Teacher
was now known throughout the land, and through wide
regions of the adjoining countries. It was said that the
pilgrims who had come to Jerusalem to attend the feasts
since his ministry began already numbered several mil-
lions, and that they had carried away with them his mar-
velous sayings and accounts of his more than human
power to the remotest corners of the inhabited earth.

Of course, great numbers of them had been from
218
A FOOT-RACE FOR FREEDOM 219

Rome, and the name of Jesus of Nazareth was known
even in the palace of the Emperor, but the Roman rulers
were convinced there was no danger in him, so far as
they were concerned.

Cyril’s week of preparation went quickly by, but he
had made the most of it. It seemed to him that he had
never felt better than he did one morning —it was on a
first day of the week — when he was marched out, with a
gang of nearly four score others, to see how many of
them were really fit to run for a prize in the presence of
the august ruler of the Roman Empire.

“Run thy best, son of Ezra,” said Crispus. “T have
no fear for thee. Run thou like Asahel, or the scourge
will await thy return!”

Cyril had no thought of failure. He said to himself as
they gathered at the starting line:

“Tam so sorry for them. Almost all of them will be
scourged.”

There was none to protest, for most of them were
bondsmen.

The word was given, and off went the racers.

One man had quickly mounted one of the horses held
in waiting, and now cantered briskly along with the run-
ners. He was a Roman, with his toga thrown over his
arm, and he seemed to be intently watching the runners.

Away went Cyril, as light of foot as a wild roe, and the
horseman was compelled to spur his nag, which was a

somewhat heavy steed.
12
220 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

There were cheers from some voices behind, but Cyril
knew not what it was for. He had seen a number of
noble Romans at the stand, and among them was the
Valerianus who had so savagely threatened him.

On, on, on, around the circus oval, and still the rider
urged his horse, but no other runner was near them as
they returned to the starting-line, for Cyril was three full
horse-lengths ahead.

“Most noble Tallienus,” came with a sneering laugh
from the lips of Valerianus, ‘thou hast need of a better
horse if thou art to beat my Syrian panther. I will wage
thee a hundred sestertia he wins the race against thy
Athenian.”

“Taken! Apollos can beat him!” shouted Tallienus,
angrily.

Meanwhile Cyril stood awaiting further orders, hardly
knowing that he had done anything remarkable, until he
was bidden, in a low voice, by Crispus:

“Get thee in! Iam proud of thee! Israel against the
world, after all, and Galilee against Greecia !”

Even the hard heart of the apostate Jew who had for-
gotten the Law retained some national pride—the bro-
ther of Rabbi Isaac was still a Galilean.

Cyril knew the Greek runner who was supposed to be
his rival. He had even spoken with him, but they were
now kept apart, by order of the prefect of the games, and
no other public trial of speed was permitted until the day
of the races.
A FOOT-RACE FOR FREEDOM 221

There was a great show for the people of Rome, but
none of the men who were to strive in the arena were
allowed to witness other performances. Like the lions
and tigers, they were kept in their dens until the hour
came to send them out. Then, indeed, hundreds were to
go out to die, but the mere trials of speed of foot came on
before the more barbarous combats.

Just before the hour for Cyril’s race, the owners of
slaves who were to run, and certain men of distinction, were
admitted to the rooms where the runners were gathered.
Among them were several whom Cyril had seen before,
and he was soon aware that most of them favored Apol-
los. The tall, finely formed young Greek, half a head
taller than Cyril, did indeed seem to promise speed. So
did a number of others, but the son of Ezra had been
studying them during their training, and believed most
of them to be overrated by their partizans. He had
somehow formed a liking for Apollos, and now it made
him sick at heart to hear Tallienus say so unfeelingly to
his noble-looking bondsman :

“T promised thee thy freedom if thou wert among the
first four. Now, I tell thee, if thou art not there, I will
slay thee. If thou art only there, I will give thee a prize.
But if thou wilt win the race I will free thee and thy
father’s family, and will also give thee back thy confis-
cated estate at Athens.”

Apollos heard in silence, but his face was of an ashy
pallor as he glanced toward Cyril.
222 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

“Valerianus speaks to thee,” said Crispus at that mo-
ment, and Cyril turned to look into the cruel face of the
haughty Roman.

“The second prize is five sestertia,” said Valerianus.
“Tf thou win but that, thou wilt with it win the scourge,
and manacles, and thy hammer in the quarries. Thou
must win the first prize!”

The hot blood rose to the forehead of the young Jew,
but his lips closed tightly, and, at that very moment, the
summoning trumpet sounded at the door opening into the
arena.

Four ranks of runners marched out, ten men in each
rank, each man’s place being decided by lot, by a number
drawn from a box.

The amphitheater was enormous. All around the oval
sandy level of the arena, the seats arose, tier after tier,
and from them eighty thousand spectators were looking
down in eager expectation. Cyril hardly saw them, al-
though the Emperor himself was there, and all the splen-
did array of the richest people of Rome itself, with kings
and nobles and chiefs from all the world tributary to
Rome. For one moment he was thinking and he was lis-
tening. He and Apollos were side by side, in the foremost
rank, and he heard the Greek boy murmur:

“ Mother—father — my brethren and my sisters,— they
shall be free, or I hope Tallienus will slay me!”

Cyril did not turn to look at him, for he was thinking:

“The first prize or the quarries—I must win, or I
A FOOT-RACE FOR FREEDOM 223

shall not be with Jesus of Nazareth when he enters
Jerusalem.”

The trumpet sounded again from near where the Em-
peror sat, and the racers were off, all together. Not one
of them but was a good runner, and there were several
smaller prizes, but the race was little more, after all, than
an occasion for gambling to the dissipated, corrupt, idle
populace of Rome. It was evil, evil, evil, like all the
other games of the Roman circus!

A splendid runner was Apollos, and he shot ahead with
a great bound that called forth plaudits from the specta-
tors. Close behind him, quickly, came several others, but:
before the runners were a third of the way around the
arena one of these tripped and fell, and another fell over
him.

“They will be scourged!” thought Cyril. “More than
half the rest are behind me now. But the pace is too fast
at the beginning.”

Several more were shortly compelled to slacken their
pace and Cyril passed them, but still, away in the front,
with an elastic, springing step, the tall young Greek kept
the lead.

“The Greek will win!” growled Valerianus to Crispus,
who sat at his side. “Thy Galilean is twenty paces be-
hind him. I will send him to the galleys!”

“Only ten paces now,” said Crispus, calmly, after a few
minutes. “O noble Valerianus, it is the last cireuit that
tells.”
224 3 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

Just then the runners came nearer and Valerianus was
silent until they had passed. The race included one more
complete round of the arena.

“ All are out of the race but those two,” muttered the
Roman noble. “I shall lose half my fortune if that Jew-
ish boy fails me. What! See—they are abreast. Bac-
chus! My Jew is winning!”

Not yet. There was still a long race before him, but he
and Apollos ran side by side, and the cireus rang with the
loud applause of the multitude.

Other runners were not far behind, but it seemed evi-
dent that the first prize was between these two. Until
that moment, Cyril had had no thought but of winning if
he could; but suddenly he cast a swift glance at the face
of Apollos. It was somewhat pale instead of flushed, and
Cyril saw a look of terror, almost of agony, in his eyes.

“He is breathing with difficulty!” thought Cyril, “and
I shall beat him! But he and his family will be slaves for-
ever if I do.”

Cyril was ahead now, and the plaudits rang out again.

“Thy sestertia are safe,” said Crispus to Valerianus.

“J will slay that Greek!” hissed Tallienus.

Cyril heard a gasping ery as Apollos put forth all his
remaining strength, for they were nearing the goal.

“Tecan give him his freedom!” flashed into the mind of
Cyril. “They may slay him—orme. Shall I?”

Then it was as if he heard certain words — but in truth
he only remembered — words he had heard the Master




“WIN THOU, APOLLOS!’”

A FOOT-RACEH FOR FREEDOM 227

say long ago, upon the mount in Galilee. Cyril could not
have told his thought, but in the next moment he spoke
in Greek to Apollos:

“Win thou, Apollos! Jesusof Nazareth has bidden me
to set thee free!”

Cyril had to slacken his speed, for the Greek boy was
beginning to falter.

One moment more and they were over the line, with
Apollos the winner by only half a pace!

How the amphitheater rang with the shouts, as the two
who had distanced all the rest were led before the Prefect
of the games to receive their prizes! Tallienus was there,
and he at once loudly proclaimed his promise to Apollos,
and his purpose to keep it. Valerianus was not there;
but Crispus stood by the Prefect with a darkening face,
and he spoke low to Cyril in Hebrew as the little bag of
gold containing the second prize was handed to the Jew-
ish runner.

“Thou didst well. There is no fault to be found with
thee. But get thee hence. I have ordered them to pass
thee at the gates. Betake thyself to Ostia!—and that
with speed. Take any ship that sails this day, no matter
whither bound. If thou art found in Rome at sunset,
thou art at the mercy of Valerianus. Belt thy prize un-
der thy tunic, that none may know it is with thee. Nay,
speak not again tome! Go! Go!”
CHAPTER XXIX
THE SHIPWRECK

HE autumnal months were beautiful along the
eastern shore of the Mediterranean; the people of
Joppa said that never before had their gardens been
so lovely or so fruitful. But as the long weeks went by
without any word from her brother, it seemed to Lois as
if there was no joy in the world.

Ezra the Swordmaker was cheerful whenever he came
to see his daughter, but even he grew gloomy when au-
tumn wore away and the winter followed, and he knew
not what had become of his only son. All he could say
to Lois was:

“Cyril promised to return in time for the Passover, and
if he is alive he will keep his word.”

The spring returned, and the gardens of Joppa were one
flush of flowers and fruit blossoms, but neither message
nor letter came from Cyril.

Tidings came from Galilee, both to Ezra and to Abigail ;
and many others also seemed to have good reasons for
believing that Jesus of Nazareth purposed being in Jeru-

salem at the Passover. At the same time, it was known
228
THE SHIPWRECK 229

that the enmity toward him among the high priests and
seribes and Pharisees was becoming embittered.

Nearer and nearer came the April days set apart for the
great feast, and Lois found herself more than ever in-
clined to go often up to the roof of Tabitha’s house and
gaze out upon the sea. There were always sails in sight,
and one of them might belong to the ship which was
bringing Cyril home.

One evening of the first week of the Passover month
Lois was still upon the roof, gazing upon the sea. A
gale was blowing, and the waters were all one toss of
white-capped billows.

She was not the only anxious watcher that night, for
even after the shadows deepened so that the whitecaps
themselves were hardly visible, a tall, vigorous man was
walking to and fro along the shore. There were others
upon the shore, but he was walking alone.

“Tt has always been a terrible place for wrecks,” he
said. “Fleets have gone down, off the coast of Joppa.
But Cyril must be very near us now. The Master will
come to this Passover, and I pray that my son may meet
him with me.”

Ezra could not leave the shore, but Lois gave up her
watch on the roof. It was so dark that the ships could
not be seen.

That, indeed, was one great peril of the ships, for they
could no longer see each other. Neither could they be
easily steered in such a storm. Hardly had Lois left the
230 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

roof before there was, far out on the water, a sound she
could not hear. It only lasted for a few moments, and
then the gale roared on, more loudly than before.

There had come a terrible crash, first. One of the ships,
driven by the fierce wind, was borne down upon another,
with all the strength of the great billow that carried it.
Then came shrieks and cries of men and women, for both
ships were shattered in the collision, and the sea was
quickly dotted with the heads of struggling swimmers.

There were fewer, soon, for now and then one of them
seized frantically upon another, so that both sank.

Cyril was one of the passengers. He had clung to a
piece of plank at the moment when the vessels came to-
gether. He had been standing at the prow of the fore-
most ship, peering out into the gloom.

He was a good swimmer, and had instinctively swam
apart from the rest. In only a few minutes he believed
himself to be alone, and he said, aloud:

“Can I land through the surf?”

“Help!” shouted a loud voice near him. “Hast thou
a float?”

“Come!” said Cyril. “I have one.”

Soon a second pair of hands were on the plank, but it
would not have supported the two men unless both had
been strong swimmers. As it was, two were better than
one to propel it to the land.

“Tam Simon,” said the new-comer. “TI am of Cyrene.
THE SHIPWRECK 231

Our craft was full of Passover pilgrims, and of all on
board I think I alone am left.”

Cyril gave his own name, and then added:

“ After we sailed from Byzantium, I found I was on a
pirate vessel. The pirates captured three merchant-ves-
sels, and our ship was full of slaves —for all the captives
were to be sold in Africa. They meant to sell me, too.
But I hoped to escape, for they spoke of touching at
Joppa.”

“Save your strength,” said Simon. “TI sailed from Cy-
rene in the hope of seeing Jesus, the prophet of Galilee,
at the Passover. I think yet that I shall see him and hear
him, There’s alight! Swim!”

“T know him!” Cyril exclaimed. “ He is the King!”

Cyril was swimming his best, and Simon was a large,
powerful man. Their vigorous strokes sent the plank yet
faster through the water.

“Beware of the surf!” cried Simon, and that was in-
deed their danger as they neared the shore.

Perhaps they could hardly have overcome it, if no help
had come; but the loud, clear voice of Simon made itself
heard through the sound of the breakers. Then men
came hurrying along the sand, for the Joppa people were
used to wrecks and to rescuing those who came ashore.

“A rope!” shouted Simon; but even as he spoke, a
long line with a stone at the end of it came flying across
the plank.
232 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

“Only a slinger could have done that,” thought Cyril,
as he caught it; but the moment he and Simon made it
fast, the Cyrenian hailed the shore with, “Pull!” and the
life-line drew them in.

“Oh, if it were but my son!” exclaimed Ezra.

“Father! Iam here!”

Loud voices joined in Ezra, the Armoret’s, cry of glad-
ness and thanksgiving; but some of the men thanked Ju-
piter, and Neptune, and Mercurius, and even Isis, as well
as Jehovah, the God of the Jews—for there were many
religions along the coast near Joppa.

Cyril was soon rested sufficiently to walk, and he and
his father went up the hill together, into the city. As for
Simon, the big and burly Cyrenean said a hearty farewell
to his young companion, and was then led away, in a kind
of triumph, by a squad of Greek and Sidonian sailors,
who said that Neptune had made them a present of him.

Neither the Swordmaker nor his son found much to say
on their way to the house. Nor was Lois talkative for a
while after her joyful greeting. But after that the lamps
in Tabitha’s large front room burned out and were filled
again, and a second time burned low, before any of them
tired of hearing the story of Cyril’s adventures out in the
world beyond the sea. It was long enough before he came
to his escape from Ostia, the seaport of Rome, from the
wrath of the disappointed gambler, Valerianus.

“ Ag Crispus bade me,” said Cyril, “I took passage on
a ship just casting off at the pier. She was bound for
THE SHIPWRECK 233

Massilia, in Gaul, and she made a quick voyage; but be-
fore we got there she was sold to some Pheenicians who
were going to the island of Britain, after tin, I knew I
would be safer with them, and so I went. I worked hard,
for she was a trireme, and I took my turn with the row-
ers to save money, and to keep the men from thinking I
had any.”

He told of many places passed on the voyage, and then
he said:

“So we sailed out, between the pillars of Hercules, into
the great ocean, with the war-galleys of the Roman gen-
eral Demetrius.”

“You have seen the further ocean?” Ezra demanded.
“Solomon’s ships and Hiram’s, of Tyre, went there. Go
on! Thou art the better fitted to be a servant of the
King!”

“We passed the cape at the end of the world and sailed
away across the sea until we reached the harbor and city
of Trinobantum, in Britain,” said Cyril. ‘But I did not
feel safe except upon the sea, and besides, I had no time
to lose. So I sailed back, in another ship, to Malta—”

“Oh, where have you not been!” exclaimed Lois, gaz-
ing up into his face, admiringly. “You have seen the
whole world.”

Not many Jewish boys had seen so much of it, cer-
tainly ; for Cyril went on to tell of his drifting here and
there, until he reached Byzantium and made a last effort
to return to Joppa and Jerusalem.
234 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

“T think I should not be here,” he said at last, “if it
had not been for the storm, and for Simon of Cyrene.”

“Sleep, now,” said his father. “On the morrow we must
all set out for Jerusalem. We shall be there in good sea-
son. Verily, the God of our fathers, thy own God, has
been with thee through all the way by which he has led
thee, and he has brought thee back to me in peace!
Glory to his name, forever! Amen!”
CHAPTER XXX
THE COLT, THE FOAL-OF AN ASS

HREE days after Cyril’s arrival at Joppa, Ezra the

Swordmaker stood just outside of the Jericho gate

of Jerusalem, as the sun rose on the first day of the week.

“We must set out at once,” said Ezra, “for the mes-

senger told me that the Master rested on the Sabbath at
Bethany. He will reach the city to-day.”

“He is really coming?” said Lois, looking earnestly
away down the road from Jericho. “How glad I would
be to see him again — and hear him speak!”

Cyril said nothing, but his eyes were flashing, and his
sun-burned, handsome face wore a warlike expression.
He was taller now, and stronger, than when he hurled
stones at the Roman soldier across the swift torrent of
the Kishon.

Lois eagerly tripped forward along the shaded high-
way. ‘Village joined to village so closely that it all was
really a part of Jerusalem, though outside of the gated
walls. They had not walked very long before Cyril re-
marked :

“This is Bethphage. I must go to the Cave of Adul-

lam soon, and select a sword.”
235
236 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

“The time is at hand,” said his father. ‘Many swords
are ready. This is to be aweek of great events. I think
there has been no other like it.”

At that very hour the Master was walking toward them,
along the road from Jericho, pausing, as he walked, to
open the eyes of the blind and to heal those who were
sick. And on the way he told those with him of the
things that were to come to pass before the sun should
set upon another first day of the week. It was to be his
own day, thenceforward, and all of them would then re-
member and would tell one another how he had talked of
these things before they came to pass.

Ezra and his party had entered the village, and all the
road behind them and all the way before was full of peo-
ple, for there were many who had heard that the prophet
of Galilee was coming.

“The street will soon be thronged,” said Ezra. “They
are taking those asses out of the way.”

Two of the animals had been tethered before one of the
houses, a she-ass and her full-grown colt. He was a
large, fine-looking animal, such as brought a higher price
than did most horses in the markets of Jerusalem, but at
that moment two men who had come up the road were
untying him.

“Cyril!” exclaimed Lois. “Those are two of the
twelve. Two of his disciples!” But before he could re-
ply, somebody spoke from the door of the house:

“What do ye, loosing the colt?”
THE COLT, THE FOAL OF AN ASS 237

“The Master hath need of him,” came back from the
man who held the halter.

Low bowed the speaker in the doorway, and the colt
was taken.

“Come!” whispered Lois earnestly to Cyril. “We will
follow them.”

But Cyril was stepping forward toward one of the dis-
ciples, and had forgotten all else in the excitement of the
moment. Off came his robe, a new abba he had bought
in Jerusalem the previous evening, and he threw it over
the back of the colt. Ezra and others did the same, and
when, not many minutes later, the obedient animal was
led through the throng around the Master, he was as if
saddled. When mounted he seemed to need no bridle,
for he turned and began to walk toward Jerusalem, car-
rying Jesus of Nazareth.

Close pressed the thousands who had already been fol-
lowing. Every village was adding new swarms of young
and old. From the now open gates of Jerusalem poured
out increasing multitudes. Slowly stepped the colt, that
required 10 guiding; and on the highest point of the road,
as it went over the ridge of the Mount of Olives, the ani-
mal stood still, while his rider gazed long and wistfully
at the splendors of the sunlit city.

“He is about to ride in,” thought Cyril. “He will soon
be crowned there and he will reign over all the world!
Even over great Rome! I wish I dared ask him, or one

of the twelve —” but at that moment he felt the hand of
13
238 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

Lois on his arm, and her voice was hushed and awed as
she murmured in his ear:

“Cyril, He is weeping!”

Then he and all could hear the Master addressing the
city in loud and earnest lamentations, as if foretelling
some great woe that was shortly to come upon it. They
heard, but they did not understand. Neither did Cyril,
for he said to himself:

“Perhaps it is because there will be bloody fighting
when the city is taken. I expected that.”

On moved the vast procession, and soon the feet of the
colt did not touch the earth because of the many abbas
that were spread before him as he walked; and all the
way was littered with the fresh-leaved branches of palm-
trees. Palms, too, were carried by those in advance and
those who followed, and chorus after chorus of praise to
God, of thanksgiving, and even of triumphant expecta-
tion of the new kingdom, arose like the songs and re-
sponses in the Temple on a day of national rejoicing.
Among them all there was one in which Cyril joined.
most heartily:

“ Blessed be the king that cometh in the name of Jeho-
vah! Peace in Heaven and glory in the highest!”

It meant, to him, all that he had so long been dreaming,
but be saw that the face of his father was clouded. He
heard Ezra mutter :

“The Master said that the men who would take Jeru-
salem would not leave one stone upon another. Who
THE COLT, THE FOAL OF AN ASS 239

then shall rebuild that he may reign there? I fear that
there are dark days coming for Israel.”

Many, even of the Pharisees, carried away by the torrent
of the Nazarene’s popularity, had gone out to meet him. It
was from some of these that words of criticism came.
They said to him, on the way, as they listened to the glad
hosanuas:

“Rabbi, rebuke thy disciples!”

“T tell you,” he replied, “that if these should hold their
peace, the very stones would immediately ery out.”

Louder and more exultingly rang the shouts of praise
to God and of honor to the “Son of David,” the prophet
who had come at last. The whole city seemed to be pour-
ing out to meet him. On, on, on, he rode, preceded and
followed by the enthusiastic multitude through the gates
and the city streets to the very Temple itself.

Once more the outer court of the Temple had been turned
into a general market-place, but when the Prophet of Gali-
lee entered it now, he had no need to drive forth any of
the dealers; his order for its cleansing was obeyed in
haste.

“Tt is written,” he said, “that my house shall be called
a house of prayer, but ye have made it a den of thieves.”

It was no use for Cyril to try to keep close by his king.
Not only were the disciples there, but also there came
continual delegations of the most important men of the
city. Still, as Cyril noticed, however great was the tu-
mult and the enthusiasm, there was nothing hostile in it,
240 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

nothing that at all disturbed the iron composure of the
Roman guards, stationed in and about the Temple.

Lois returned to the house of a friend of Tabitha, where
she and Abigail were waiting for her, but Hzra and his
son walked away, together, toward the pool of Siloam.

Until the close of the day, Jesus of Nazareth continued
in the Temple, and all that he said or did was peaceful, at
the same time that he both defied and denounced the chief
priests and the scribes and the Pharisees. When evening
drew near, and before the gates were shut, he and the
twelve disciples returned to Bethany.

It was not strange that the Roman governor, Pontius,
“the spearman,” turned away in careless indifference
when reports came to him of what appeared a mere differ-
ence of opinion among the Jewish rabbis concerning some
of their curious doctrines —of which he knew nothing
whatever.
CHAPTER XXXI
BEFORE THE LAST PASSOVER

HE whole city was moved when the shouting multi-
tude marched up the Jericho road to Jerusalem, an-
nouncing the arrival of the great prophet of Nazareth.
His bitterest enemies understood that at that hour they
were powerless against him. The hearts and hopes of all
the people were set upon him, and year after year his
work had become better known. All over the land, in
cities and towns and hamlets, were large numbers of men
and women whom he had helped with new health and life,
while uncounted thousands had witnessed his good works
and listened to his teachings.

But now, at last, the very summit of his power and
popularity seemed to be reached, and from this time on-
ward there seemed, to his enemies, a rapid ebbing away.

On the second day of the week, our Monday, the Mas-
ter came in again from Bethany, and among those who
met him before he reached the city were Ezra and Cyril,
but there was now no throng, for his return had not been
announced beforehand.

They went with him to the Temple. The directions he
241
242 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

had given the previous day, for the clearing of the outer
court, had been obeyed. The buyers and sellers and their
merchandise had been expelled. The “Court of the
Heathen” was once more a house of prayer for all na-
tions. Here the Master sat down and taught, and the
blind and the lame came to him and he healed them —
but this was not at all what a great many of his following,
or even the patriotic multitude, had led themselves to
expect.

They came and lingered around him, and went away
and came again. They heard what he said and they saw
what he did, but even his denunciation of the Pharisees
and scribes puzzled them. Were not the priests still to
officiate in the Temple, after the Messiah should come to
rule the world? What, too, were those strange things
that were said about the destruction of Jerusalem and of
the Temple itself ?

Darker and darker grew their difficulties, from hour to
hour. It puzzled Cyril, and something of faith or of en-
thusiasm he was losing. It was not so with Ezra, per-
haps because he was older; but Cyril noticed that his
father was all the while in deep thought, and, at the close
of that day, as they walked homeward, he said:

“My son, stay thou here, in the city. I go to the Cave,
to see some of our friends, and I return at once. I will
get thee a sword. I will not bring the King’s sword, now,
but thou and I‘may have need of weapons.”

“Has the Master said anything?” asked Cyril
BEFORE THE LAST PASSOVER 243

“ One of the Twelve told me,” replied Ezra, that he said,
‘Tf I am lifted up, I will draw all men unto me’; but what
he meant, I know not. Of this I am sure, that the God
of Israel will tell him when to act and what to do.”

“The time is at hand, then?” persisted Cyril.

“This, too, I do not understand,” said his father. “He
hath said that in his battle for the Kingdom he must be
slain and the third day rise again. It is a deep saying,
but I have seen him raise the dead. Whatever is to come
must come.”

So Ezra went away, and Cyril went to have a talk with
Lois, who was not at all troubled as were her father and
brother. She had now to repeat to her brother something
she had already told Abigail.

“Didst thou notice,” she had said, “when we were in
the Court of the Women, that the Master wore the abba
we made in Capernaum, and the seamless vesture? I did,
but I saw it upon him first when he was riding in on the
colt.”

Abigail had not failed to see, and she remarked:

“It was not our gift, Lois. I now know that the wife
of Chusa, Herod’s steward, and the other women, have
continually ministered unto him from their own prop-
erty.”

Lois was silent, for she strongly felt that her own small
hands had worked upon that abba, and she had been
proud to see the Master wearing it.

There were many stories told, some of them very beau-
244 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

tiful, of his kindness to women and children, and Lois
had treasured them all.

Cyril was now thinking of what his father had said to
him, for Ezra was not only an old experienced soldier,
but a Jew. “Jesus will be compelled to wait,” Ezra had
said. “He cannot attempt anything until after the Pass-
over, and then not until after the Sabbath. Our best men
would not rally on the feast-days nor on a Sabbath.”

Cyril, therefore, was waiting wearily and impatiently.
The Passover was not to be eaten until the fifth day of
the week, or Thursday, at night. During the fourth day,
nearly all day long, Jesus continued in the Temple, teach-
ing. It seemed to some who heard him that his words
were more wonderful than ever before. In the morning
hour, as he sat in the Court of the Women, opposite the
treasury chests into which many who came were casting
their voluntary contributions, he had said of one poor
woman who gave only two small mites, that she had given
more than all the rest. It was so hard to understand a
great many of the things he said, that Cyril had pressed
nearer, through the throng. Lois had followed, until she
and her brother were side by side, close to Mary, the
mother of Jesus, and Mary of Magdala.

He was now speaking again, and his voice seemed to
fill the open spaces of the temple and to find its way to
the ears of all the crowds that filled the porches and the
courts. The voice was so powerful, so full of pathos and
of pleading, that all other sounds were hushed. Could
BEFORE THE LAST PASSOVER 245

he be in pain? In suffering? He certainly was not now
speaking to the people, for he was looking upward.

“Lois,” said Cyril, but her hand on his arm silenced
him, and she was gazing upon the face of the Master.

“Now is my soul troubled,” they heard him ery out.
“And what shall I say? Father save me from this hour
— But for this cause came I unto this hour.— Father!
Glorify thy name!”

All through the temple sounded the strange prayer of
the prophet of Galilee, and the people held their breath
for a moment. Then came, through the corridor and
porch and court, an utterance so wonderful that many
cowered in sudden terror, exclaiming that it thundered,
while those who were nearer said to one another:

“An angel spoke to him!” for the words of the sound
could both be heard and recorded:

“I have both glorified it and will glorify it again!”

“This voice came not because of me, but for your
sakes,” said Jesus, but, as he talked on, Cyril crept si-
lently away and so did many others. He had a fright-
ened feeling that he could not bear to hear any more.

“Something great and terrible is surely coming!” he
said to himself, “when the angels of God speak to us.
Father must know this.”

It was not until evening that Ezra and Cyril met, ac-
cording to their appointment, near the Pool of Siloam.
Cyril had many things to tell, and his father heard him
in silence, but, at the end of it all, he said:
246 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

“T reached the city hours ago, and I have been with
the disciples. We must watch now. Herod has at last
determined to slay him. So have the high priests. They
are the rulers of the people —”

“TI am not with them!” sprang to the lips of Cyril.
“T am not with the priests and rabbis. I am with the
Christ, the King! I have heard God speak to him in the
temple!”

Ezra rose to his feet.

“J also am with him!” he answered. “But his ene-
mies follow him closely. He is even now concealing
himself —”

“They will find out where he is to eat the Passover,”
said Cyril. “Then they can seize him and the Twelve.
He must have chosen the place days ago, and many must
know it.”

“ So I thought,” replied Ezra, “but the Twelve said not
go. Not until to-morrow will they or anybody else know
where the Passover is to be eaten by Jesus of Nazareth.
Only the Twelve will know, even then, lest he should be
betrayed to those who seek his life. They know, as well
-as we do, that after the Feast and the Sabbath he will be
free to act.”

So reasoned Ezra and his son, and so had reasoned and
plotted the enemies of Jesus.

“We will eat our own Passover,” said Ezra, finally,
“and then we will go out and watch. I gave my own
sword to Peter. He asked for it; he had none. The
BEFORE THE LAST PASSOVER 247

sword I had meant for thee I gave to Andrew. They will
all the while be with him. We can go unarmed now, but
I think the servants of the King may be ready with
shield and blade upon the first day of the week. The
Passover Lamb must be slain, and after that he will enter
into his kingdom.”

So spoke the old swordmaker, and a great longing
arose in Cyril’s soul.

“We must wait,” he said; “but I shall be ready to
march with him when he calls for me,— on the first day
of the week.”
CHAPTER XXXII
GETHSEMANE

T was late in the Passover night. All through Jeru-
salem, all over the world, wherever there were Jews,
those who had eaten the Pascal lamb had arisen from the
sacred feast. For the greater part, they remained in their
houses, or went only short distances to other houses, or in
and about Jerusalem, to the booths and tents provided
for pilgrims. Rarely had these been so numerous, for
men had come from all over the world to hear and see the
new Teacher, the Prophet of Galilee.

Out of one house came two who went in haste, and one
said to the other: “My son, we did well to watch when
he came in. Now that we know where to seek him, let
us not be too late. He will not stay in the city, for they
will take him.”

“Father!” suddenly exclaimed the other. “Look yon-
der! There are torches and armed men. They are com-
ing from the house of the High Priest. They are the
priests and the captains of the temple, and the elders!”

He paused, while around a corner of massive masonry
near them marched a motley throng which seemed to
pour out curses as it came.

248




“THE THRONG THAT WAS LED BY JUDAS.”

GETHSEMANE 251

“Cyril!” exclaimed Ezra, “Seest thou that man with
the torch? It is Judas Iscariot, one of the Twelve! The
Master is betrayed! Oh, that we could warn him!”

They could not! They did not know, as Judas did,
that Jesus had appointed the shadowy garden of Geth-
semane as the place of his last hour of agony and prayer
and communion with the men he loved, before he should
be given up to death. Al that Ezra and his son could
do was to follow the throng that was led by Judas.

On went the traitor and those who were with him,
through the eastern gate, opened for them by its guards,
and out toward the Mount of Olives. On went Ezra and
Cyril, almost as if they were themselves members of
the band of men who were seeking the life of Jesus of
Nazareth.

“Tf they succeed,” groaned Cyril, “if they should take
him, what will then become of the Kingdom?”

No answer came, for Ezra was striding forward, his
right hand working almost convulsively, as if he longed
to grapple an enemy or grasp a weapon.

In strong contrast with that tumultuous rush of angry
men, through the streets of the city and out across the
Kidron, was one shaded spot upon the Mount of Olives.

Three men who lay there had been overcome more by
erief and anxiety than by bodily fatigue, and they were
sound asleep although they had been bidden to wait there
and to pray. At no great distance from them, in one direc-
tion, waited eight others, who seemed to be awake but
252 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

silent, while at a stone’s cast in the opposite direction
knelt one who was all alone.

He had been praying again and again, each time return-
ing to find those men asleep, to waken them, to then go
and pray once more.

The third time, when he came back to waken them, he
again upbraided them gently, but added:

“Tt is enough. The hour is come. Behold the Son of
Man is betrayed into the hands of sinners. Arise. Let
us. be going.— Behold he that betrayeth me is at hand.”

Whatever was yet to come, that night or afterward,
was to him the fulfilment, the actual endurance, of what
he already knew and felt beforehand, as he had often told
not only the Twelve but many others, who could not grasp
the meaning of what he said.

Not many minutes later, the stream of men with torches,
staves, and swords, went up the slope at a point directly
across the valley from the temple, and poured in among
the trees and vines of Gethsemane.

Cyril knew at once that Judas had guided only too well,
and the son of Ezra saw rather than heard, for all his soul
was in a tumult of dismay.

He saw the Master stand as if waiting, and he saw
Judas press forward to greet him with a kiss. Then he
saw the sword of Peter flash from its sheath and strike
one blow, giving a wound which the Master at once
touched and healed, as he said to Peter:

“Suffer ye thus far. Put up thy sword into its sheath.
GETHSEMANE 253

The cup which my Father hath given me, shall I not drink
it?”

The armed men stepped forward, but the disciples had
fallen away, at that moment, from around the King, and
he stood alone, in the glare of many torches. So majestic,
so kingly a presence was it that those who came to take
him reeled backward and then fell upon their faces.

They arose and again rushed forward, while all the dis-
ciples turned and fled, and Cyril gasped in terror:
“They have taken him!”

The Jewish priests would not have been permitted to
go with their servants armed through the streets of Jeru-
salem, by either day or night, nor would the gate have
been opened for them had they been unaccompanied. The
real arresting force had therefore been a strong party of
Roman legionaries from the temple guard. These were
the very men who had been so overcome by the more
than earthly majesty of their intended captive, and now
they acted as a protecting escort while they led him back
across the Kidron and into the city. The officer in com-
mand of them, as Cyril knew, was responsible for the
safety of Jesus until he should deliver him to the authori-
ties. Cyril therefore breathed more freely as he marched
along with them into the city and up the street which led
to the princely house of Annas, the father-in-law of Cai-
aphas, the high priest, to whom the first report of the
arrest of Jesus was, for some reason, to be made.

All who could manage to do so, and many had joined
254 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

on the way, pushed through the ample portal into the
great hall where Annas, in a kind of vindictive triumph,
waited for the prisoner.

“There is John,” said Cyril to himself. “And there is
Peter, pretending to warm himself by the brazier: Not
another man of the Twelve is here. Father is not here.”

In every direction, as he glanced around, were only
angry and scowling faces, or else those whose open exul-
tation more plainly declared the spirit that brought them.
The Master was before his accusers, deserted by his fol-
lowers.

Cyril himself was thinking:

“There is nothing that I can do!” when he suddenly
felt as if something had stung him, and he came near
speaking aloud: “Oh, they have struck him!”

All in that chamber had been humiliated by the blow
except the unflinching majesty which had been smitten.
Cyril was not looking at others, to see how they felt, but
at the servants of Annas, who were now tying the hands
of Jesus, as those of an accused criminal, to lead him
away to the house of the High Priest Caiaphas.

“T will be there before them,” exclaimed Cyril, turning
to hasten toward the door, but a voice at his side re-
sponded :

“Thou here? I had hoped to see thee again. It was
in his name that thou didst set me free in the Arena.
I heard of him again, both at Rome and at Athens. I
came to Jerusalem to see and hear him —”
GETHSEMANE 255

“He was my King!” gasped Cyril. “Oh, Apollos! —
he is the Messiah that was to come, and they will slay
him!”

“T fell, when the rest did, in the garden,” said Apollos,
as they hurried on, side by side. “Tallienus commands
the new legion,— the garrison of the city,— and I, though
Iam now free, was with him when he ordered the guard
for the chief priests. My own people murdered Socrates
for speaking the truth. I think the Jews will slay this
prophet, for I heard him say, in the Temple, ‘I am the
truth” I believe he is. He set me free. Come. Thou
art a Jew, and I am a Greek, but he is my King as much
as he is thine. Let us see what will be the end.”

So the two who had raced for the prize before the
Emperor in the Roman amphitheater, ran now, and were
among the first arrivals at the house of Annas to enter
the ample audience-room in the palace of Caiaphas, the
High Priest.

It was something more than a mere popular assembly
that had gathered there. Had Cyril and Apollos been a
moment later, they might not have gained admission, for
they went in with some of the most distinguished mem-
bers of the Sanhedrim, the great council of the Jewish
nation, and shortly afterward the doors were closed
against the multitude.

It was an exceedingly dignified, pompous tribunal, a
kind of senate, and the High Priest sat as its presiding
official. Before him, calm and utterly silent, stood Jesus

14 ’
256 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

of Nazareth, while the witnesses attempted to give some
reason known to the laws why he should be arrested or
punished. No questioning drew from him a word of
comment or response, while the conflicting witnesses, one
after another, broke down in their too willing testimony.

“They must let him go,” thought Cyril. “He has done
no wrong.”

But at that moment the High Priest himself arose and
stepped forward, confronting the prisoner, and said:

“JT adjure thee, by the living God, that thou tell us
whether thou be the Christ, the Son of God!”

Cyril’s heart seemed to stop beating, for a new and tre-
mendous thought that had been dawning upon him was
now taking a shape he had never dreamed of.

“Tn truth,” whispered Apollos, “he is not aman. He
is one of the gods.”

For Apollos was a Greek, a heathen, and his people be-
lieved that their divinities sometimes visited the earth.

Deep, hushed, awful, was the stillness over the Sanhe-
drim, as they listened for the reply to the question of the
High Priest. It came distinctly, in words which sent a
thrill through all who heard:

“Tam. And hereafter ye shall see the Son of Man sit-
ting on the right hand of power and coming in the clouds
of Heaven.”

The High Priest rent his clothes, and loudly exclaimed :

“What need have we of further witness? Ye have
heard the blasphemy? What think ye?”

Angry responses from all sides declared that the blas-
GETHSEMANE 257

phemer must be put to death; but only one authority in
Jerusalem could inflict the death-penalty. The offender
must, therefore, go before the Roman governor. First,
however, while the leaders prepared to take him there,
others vented their fanatical spite upon their unresisting
victim.

“Let us be the first at Pilate’s house,” said Apollos, in
a low voice; and Cyril turned away, feeling almost as if
the earth were going out from under his feet.

“Tt is all over,” he said. “They will imprison Jesus as
they did John.”

“No,” exclaimed Apollos, as they hurried onward. “No
prison could contain him. I heard him say it—he is the
son of God!”

Many things had been said which Cyril had heard but
could not now recall, and he was only looking forward to
what might be the next scene in that dreadful night. It
was now, indeed, no longer really night, but in the dawn-
ing of the sixth day of the week—our Friday. It was
still one of the festival days, and no member of the San-
hedrim would have entered the house of a heathen, like
Pilate, for fear of becoming thereby unclean, unfit for
entering the temple.

It was for this reason that Pilate, notified of what was
coming, had ordered his throne-chair of judgment brought
out to a spot called Sabbatha, from its ornamental “ pave-
ment,” in front of his palace portal.

Here he now sat, and before him came the Jewish
notables, bringing with them their prisoner.
CHAPTER XXXIII
THE CROSS AND THE CROWN

T was, indeed, an imposing spectacle, that court be-
fore the splendid palace of the Roman ruler of Judea.
It was, nevertheless, a great piece of hypocrisy. Pilate,
sitting in the Judge’s seat, knew very well the true nature
of the case brought before him. The course pursued by
Jesus of Nazareth year after year, all over the land, had
been known of all men. Pilate was entirely willing, how-
ever, to see and hear a person so celebrated as the Gali-
lean prophet. There were political reasons why he was
willing, at that time, to please the Jewish priests and
people.

So there he sat and listened, while members of the San-
hedrim presented, with their prisoner, their formal accu-
sation :

“We found him perverting the nation and forbidding
to give tribute to Cesar, saying that he himself is the
Christ, a King.”

“Art thou the King of the Jews?” said Pilate, to the
prisoner.

“Thou sayest!” was the Master’s response, as if he had

said, “I am.”
258
THE CROSS AND THE CROWN 259

Immediately Pilate arose from his chair, and the two
went into the palace together, out of the hearing of all
who stood around the judgment-seat.

After a few moments of suspense, during which scarce
any audible words were exchanged by those who were
waiting, the two came out again, and then Pilate spoke :

“T find no fault in this man.”

Cyril’s heart leaped gladly for a moment, and he heard
Apollos mutter:

“After all, the Roman law has something of justice in it.”

But loud, fierce, angry, threatening in its tone, was the
response of a white-robed rabbi, who now stood forth in.
front of the rest:

“He stirreth up the people, teaching through all J ewry;
beginning from Galilee, to this place!”

The face of Pilate was crafty as well as cruel, and there
came a change in it as he heard Ben Nassur speak of
Galilee.

“He belongs to Herod’s jurisdiction,” he said. “I will
send him to Herod, for his decision.”

Herod had no power to inflict capital punishment in
Judea, but the responsibility was to be shifted.

It was not difficult for Cyril and his friend, less digni-
fied than their elders, to speedily reach the palace, where
Herod maintained a kind of royal state during the Feast.
He, too, had been notified, and was waiting in his judg-
ment-hall the arrival of the escort which Pilate sent with
Jesus and the priestly accusers who came with him.
260 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

Herod had slain John in the dungeon of the Black
Castle, but’ this prophet of Galilee he had never seen.
His face wore an attentive look as the throng poured in
and its numbers took the places which their rank or as-
sumed duty assigned to them. Certainly nothing was
lacking of external pomp, and state, and splendor, in the
appointments of Herod’s hall and throne of public au-
dience. Jewels and gold and royal robes and armed
guards and the assured appearance of conscious power
over the lives of men, all these were there, with Herod,
and not in all the world were there men of more personal
dignity than belonged to the Jewish rulers who now stood
before him as accusers of the prisoner sent to him by
Pontius Pilate. Nevertheless, not only did this pomp fail
to be regarded by the prisoner, but even in the eyes of
others it was shorn of its ordinary effect.

The real royalty, the one manifest greatness in that
hall, stood all alone before them. He was in plain cloth-
ing, bareheaded, but he was kinglier than the king, as he
listened in undisturbed silence to the many questions put
to him, loftily, at first, then angrily, by Herod himself.

Not a word of response was made to either accusation
or inquiries. To Herod’s disappointment, there was no
exhibition of the superhuman power concerning which
the murderer of John the Baptizer had heard so much.
At last it became plain that Pilate’s cunning attempt to
rid himself of a troublesome case had failed, although he
THE CROSS AND THE CROWN 261

had succeeded in pleasing Herod by a semblance of def-
erence to his authority over Galileans. The whole mat-
ter must therefore be referred back to Roman jurisdiction.

So Cyril himself understood, half gladly, even while
the wrath and disappointment of Herod and his officers
broke out in fierce derision of the “pretended King,” as
they called him. A King, they scornfully said, should
have a better robe than the plain abba he was wearing,
and so, as they sent him away, they threw over it one
gorgeous in tints and embroidery upon its ground of
royal white, from the wardrobes of the palace. He was
not crowned as yet, but upon him had been placed the
raiment which, by old tradition, belonged only to Hebrew
royalty, to the princes of the house of David.

Once more did Pontius Pilate come out to sit in the
chair of judgment at the Pavement. Once more the ac-
cused Prophet of Galilee stood before him, the royal robe
he wore neither adding to nor taking from the majesty of
his serene, undisturbed demeanor. His head was not
bowed, nor did his lips open to utter a word.

No one knew what had been going on in the mind of
Pilate, nor what motive he might have for wishing to
spare his prisoner. But Cyril now heard him once again
declare his first decision that he found no fault in Jesus;
he added that Herod also had sent him back uncondemned.
Therefore, as it was an honored custom to release one
important prisoner at the Passover Feast, he would but
262 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

scourge him and let him go. What was called Roman
justice could do no more for a man whose innocence was
admitted.

“Scourging, for the King?” shuddered Cyril; but at
that moment there arose a cry of many voices, acting on
a quick suggestion by the accusers:

“Not this man, but Barabbas!”

“What?” thought Cyril, “the robber instead of the
Christ?”

Then Pilate added, as they called loudly for Barabbas:

“What then shall I do with Jesus, who is called the
Christ ?” ;

Not till that very moment had Cyril understood how
deep and deadly was the enmity which had been growing
during all the years of the Master’s open condemnations
of the priests and rabbis, the scribes and Pharisees, their
teachings and their works. There had been a war, long
and severe, waged without swords or armor, and it was a
war of life and death. The old evils or the new good
must perish. Hot and fierce was therefore the fanatical
zeal of Isaac Ben Nassur, as his stentorian lungs sent
forth the cry caught up and repeated by so many:

“Crucify him! Crucify him!”

Cyril heard other words around him. He heard Pilate
speak again, and the priests and rulers replying. He
knew that Jesus had again been taken into the palace
but knew not what there had passed between him and
Pilate.
THE CROSS AND THE CROWN 263

“He is coming now!” exclaimed Apollos at his side,
and in a moment more they saw Jesus standing near the
judgment seat.

“Behold your King!” said Pilate, and then loud shouts
replied :

“ Away with him! Crucify him!”

He once more almost pleaded for his prisoner:

“Shall I crucify your King?”

The tumult deepened; the outcries became more sedi-
tious; and the weakness of Pilate’s cruel, selfish nature
yielded to the clamor of the bloodthirsty rabble.

“He is delivered up to be crucified!” cried Cyril.

“Come!” said Apollos. “They are leading him forth.”

Cyril hardly knew how Apollos led him, but in a min-
ute more they were in the great hall of the palace which
was known as the pretorium.

The soldiers of Rome, mere swordsmen who knew no
mercy, were having their own way, now, in a kind of bru-
tal sport with their prisoner. They removed the royal
robe of Judah, and then his own simple clothing was re-
moved that the heavy scourge reserved for malefactors
might fall on the bare back. Ruthlessly fell the rain of
cutting lashes, till the punishment number of them was
full.

Equally cruel hands were meanwhile plaiting, with
twigs from the thorn-tree of Canaan, a torturing imita-
tion of an imperial crown.

The scourging ceased; the crown of thorns was forced
264 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

down upon the kingly head; the seamless robe and abba
were replaced. Over them, now, however, was thrown,
in mockery, not the white broidery of Judean Kings, but °
the rich, deep-tinted purple robe of Roman empire — of
the empire of the world.

Insult followed insult; mockery on mockery; while
Cyril writhed in agony, as if the sharp strokes were fall-
ing on himself.

“Come!” said Apollos. “They are leading him
away !”

The streets of Jerusalem were already thronged, and
all knew what was going forward. Not the enemies only
of the Prophet of Galilee were in the long, mournful pro-
cession which now marched with him out through the
Joppa gate; multitudes had preceded it, for Golgotha,
“the place of a skull,” was the usual place for public
executions.

Before one doorway Cyril paused and Apollos with
him, for it was full of weeping women, to whom he hur-
riedly related all he had seen and heard. With them
were many of their friends — women from Nazareth and
from the Chinnereth shore. Even while Cyril was speak-
ing, the heavy tread of a band of Roman legionaries came
down the street, while walking among them was one on
whom the eyes in the doorway looked, but could hardly
see for weeping.

“My son,” said a speaker behind Cyril, “he is bearing
his own cross —”
THE CROSS AND THE CROWN 265

“Would I could bear it for him!” exclaimed Lois, and
Cyril replied :

“He has fallen! Look! Who is that?”

No man would have been permitted to break the serried
ranks and help the fainting Master, but that the soldiers
themselves were loth to be impeded, and they had seized
upon a sturdy man who had been pressing too close that
he might stare, wonderingly, at Jesus of Nazareth. On
him they bound the pieces of wood that were to form the
cross, and Cyril, as he looked again, exclaimed :

“Tt is Simon of Cyrene. He swam ashore with me.
He came to see the King.”

“He has seen him,” said Ezra, reverently. “Let us go
out to Golgotha.”

Jt was by no means easy to follow closely, so dense was
the throng. Other parties of soldiers tramped behind the
first, for two thieves were to suffer, at the same time and
place. Hach of these carried, hung around his neck, a

whitened board, on which was written his name and the
nature of his offense. Another had been provided for
Jesus, but Cyril did not then see it.

In fact, he could hardly see anything or think anything,
for all the hope and enthusiasm of his young life seemed
to be dying away from him. Even Apollos was steadier ;
but then he was not a Jew, and he had not been dream-
ing, year after year, of the new kingdom, and of the com-
ing of the conquering King, the promised Messiah, the
Son of David.
266 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

The place of execution was reached, a kind of knoll,
just off the Joppa highway, where the crowds who con-
tinually came and went might not only see those who suf-
fered, but take wholesome warnings of the power and
severity of the Roman authorities.

Lois was vaguely aware that she heard a sound of ham-
mering, as of men who were driving heavy spikes. She
knew that her father and brother had thrown themselves
upon the ground, and that all her women friends had coy-
ered their heads; but after that, it was all so silent for a
moment, that she looked up, timidly.

Three crosses arose from the top of the little hill, and
from the central cross came a voice full of pleading, that
said:

“Father, forgive them, for they know not what they
do!”

Near the foot of the cross were four Roman soldiers
who had been stationed there as a guard. They were
talking, almost disputing, about something, and Lois
turned to look at them.

They were drawing lots for the seamless vesture which
had been sent to him, and they had already torn up the
abba. Small indeed was the impression made upon their
hardened natures by so ordinary an affair as a crucifixion.

Worse than theirs, even, seemed the hardness of some
who called themselves Jews, for they stood before the
cross and hurled derisive taunts upon the sufferer who
had healed so many other sufferers. The very inscription


“NEY WERE DRAWING LOTS FOR THE SEAMLESS VESTURE.”

THE CROSS AND THE CROWN 269

above his head seemed to arouse or increase their bitter-
ness, for Pilate had written it, in Latin, in Greek and in
Hebrew:

“This is Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews.”

The purple robe had long since been taken from him,
but still he wore the crown — the crown of thorns.

It was high noon and the sun poured hotly down upon
the uncovered flesh of the men upon the crosses. It was
said that no other torment equaled the intolerable thirst
of crucifixion.

Swift death could not come, and the sultry, feverish,
merciless hours dragged slowly by.

There was more mockery, more railing, and several
times the Master spoke, with a wonderful calmness, to one
of his disciples, to his mother and to the other women, and
even to one of the criminals who were crucified with him.

“My son!” Cyril turned from a long gaze at the crown
of thorns, for Ezra was leaning over him. “I must go.
The centurion yonder is Regulus, who commanded in
Samaria. Stay, thou, but know thou this that I heard
from one who was in the palace: The Master said to
Pilate: ‘My kingdom is not of this world, else would my
servants fight. Tama King’ Cyril, son of mine, I must
go; but only to wait for his other kingdom. I believe
that I begin to understand better than I did.”

Ezra was gone, and it was only a moment later when
Jesus exclaimed :

“T thirst !”
270 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

As if he had been waiting for some service, Apollos
darted away to where stood a jar of vinegar and by it a
sponge at the end of a reed, such as was provided by the
merciful women of Jerusalem for all who were crucified.
He was filling the sponge, when the lips of the sufferer
opened again, and with a loud and terrible cry:

“My God! My God! Why hast thou forsaken me?”

To those who understood the tongue in which he spoke,
the first words sounded like the name of the prophet
Elijah, and, as Apollos hurried forward, they shouted to ©
him:

“Tet alone! Let us see if Elijah will come to save him!”

Neither did the young Greek understand them, but he
pressed the cooling liquid upon the parched lips, for a
moment. Then he drew back, for yet another cry of
agony burst forth, and with it the words:

“Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit!” -

So saying, he bowed his head and all seemed over; but
now, although no clouds had arisen, a great and awful
darkness swept across the sky. The earth beneath them
shook and trembled as if in horror of that which had been
done, and great rocks by the roadside were cloven to their

bases, while in the Temple itself, the vast veil before the
holy of holies was rent in twain.

“Truly,” spoke the deep voice of the centurion, “this
was the Son of God!”

But all others only smote their breasts and hastened
away in terror towards Jerusalem.
CHAPTER XXXIV
AFTER THE RESURRECTION

HE next day was the Sabbath and a deep stillness, as

of fear, seemed to have settled over Jerusalem. An

awful deed had been done, and men were whispering to

one another concerning the signs which had accompanied

it — the darkness and the earthquake and the rending of

the veil, and concerning the last woes spoken of by the
crucified Prophet of Galilee.

Abigail, Tabitha, and their friends, were only waiting
for the morrow, to return to Joppa, but Lois had been
provided for, as had Cyril, in the house of one of Hzra’s
friends, an old disciple of John the Baptizer.

“We will remain in Jerusalem, for a season,” said Ezra
to Cyril and Lois. “We must have courage and wait.
The kingdom will surely come, and he said it was at hand.
I believe him.”

So did his children, and yet all hope of it seemed gone.
Perhaps the old swordmaker could not clearly have
told them what he meant or what he expected, but every
now and then he looked at his right hand, and his face

always brightened when he did so.
271
272 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

They knew already that the body of Jesus had been
placed, by Joseph of Arimathea, in his own rock-hewn
tomb, in a garden at no great distance from Golgotha, or, |
as the Romans called it, “Calvary.” They also knew that
a guard of Roman soldiers kept ceaseless watch by the
tomb, lest the disciples of Jesus should steal the body
away and then assert that he had risen from the dead.

There was little or nothing to be done on the Sabbath,
except to wait, and to weep at thinking of what the Master
had suffered on the cross.

There was a kind of revengeful triumph, too, in the
feelings of the enemies of Jesus; but the chief priests and
their followers, and such men as Isaac Ben N. assur, were
tormented by a dread lest something, they knew not what,
was yet to come. It was from this that the caution came
which made them obtain a guard of legionaries for the
tomb of Jesus; and all his friends, especially his disciples,
were aware that violent measures were planned against
them. They were therefore concealing themselves, al-
though not altogether debarred from coming and going
among those who were in sympathy with them.

The Sabbath passed, the first day of the week came,
and still a troubled, uncertain state of mind seemed to
weigh down Ezra the Swordmaker and keep him from at-
tempting anything. The morning hours went by, and
still he sat gloomily in the house with his children. That
is, with Cyril, whenever his impatience would let him
keep still, for Lois did better and took her part in house-
AFTER THE RESURRECTION 273

hold duties. It was a little after noon, therefore, when
Cyril was summoned to the outer door. He opened it
and uttered a loud exclamation, for there stood Apollos,
his face all radiant, like that of a bearer of good tidings.

“Oh, my friend,” he said, “thy King is risen!” And
then, in quick excited sentences, he told a story of women
who had been early at the tomb, and some of the disci-
ples; and how the guard had fled in fear of an angel who
came and rolled away from the sepulcher the stone that
closed its door. The women first, and then the disciples,
had not only seen the risen Jesus, but had spoken with
him.

“Oh, that I might see him again!” exclaimed Cyril.

“They know me not,” said Apollos, “and I cannot join
their company. Neither must thou, except secretly, for
Valerianus is here, and he might do thee a mischief if he
found thee. He is a man who never forgets or forgives.”

Ezra had come out and had listened.

“T believe it!” he shouted. “I go to the Cave and to
our friends. I will return before next Sabbath. My son,
thou wilt be safer in one of the villages than in the city.
I will send thee out to Emmaus with my friend Cleopas.
Thou knowest him.”

Cyril might have preferred remaining in the city, but
he knew that his father’s counsel was best. Before long,
he was on his way and beyond the city walls. His com-
panion, Cleopas, an old disciple of John the Baptizer, was

the very man with whom he could talk most freely con-
15
274 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

cerning his life-long dream of the King and the new
Kingdom, and of how it had been shattered.

It was a kind of mournful comfort to recall the words
and works of the Master, and even to rehearse the mar-
vels which had attended the crucifixion. Most marvelous
of all, most impossible to make real, was this last won-
der, told to them that day.

‘* Apollos said,” remarked Cyril, “that after we all fled,
on the sixth day, one of the soldiers plunged a spear into
his side, to make sure that he was dead. How can he
have risen again?”

As if it would have been easier, if, like Lazarus or the
young man at Nain, the Master had died in the ordinary
way, not torn with spikes nor pierced by the broad blade
of a Roman pilum.

Heavier grew their hearts and slower, more thought-
ful, their long walk through the winding valley and over
the hills between Jerusalem and Emmaus.

Of course, they met with many wayfarers and many
more, upon more pressing business, passed them ; but one
of these, at last, a stranger who caught up with them,
seemed in no more haste than were they themselves. It
seemed to Cyril that his heart was too full to speak to
any man, but the stranger greeted them with a very win-
ning courtesy.

“What manner of communications are these things,”
he asked, “ that ye have one to another, as ye walk and
are sad?”
AFTER THE RESURRECTION 275

They stood still, looking sad enough, but Cleopas
seemed even to feel a little nettled by such a question
and he responded quickly :

“Art thou only a stranger in Jerusalem, and hast not
known the things that are come to pass there, in these
days?”

“What things?” again asked the stranger.

“Concerning Jesus of Nazareth,” replied Cleopas,
“which was a prophet, mighty in deed and word before
God and all the people: and how the chief priests and
our rulers delivered him up to be condemned to death,
and have crucified him——”

“But we trusted,” exclaimed Cyril, “that it should be
he which should have redeemed Israel.”

“And beside all this,” continued Cleopas, “it is now
the third day since these things were done. Yea, and
certain women also of our company made us astonished,
which were early at the sepulcher; and when they found
not his body, they came, saying, that they had also seen
a vision of angels, which said that he was alive. And
certain of them that were with us went to the sepulcher
and found it even so as the women had said, but him
they saw not.”

“O fools,” exclaimed the stranger, “and slow of heart
to believe all that the prophets have spoken: ought not
Christ to have. suffered these things, and to enter into
his glory?”

He was evidently a man learned in the Scriptures, for
276 THE SWORDMAKER’S SON

he began, as they now resumed their walk, a series of
quotations, from the books of Moses onward to the latest
prophets, all of which, as he brought them out and ex-
plained them, seemed to tell the story of Jesus of Naza-
reth, to the very hour when the Romans crucified him.
It all seemed clear to Cyril, and he wondered that he had
not understood it before. The time slipped by them un-
observed, and the sun was low in the sky when they
entered Emmaus. They reached the house which was
the temporary home of Cleopas, and the stranger ceased
to speak. He would even have walked on if Cleopas and
Cyril had not urgently invited him to come in.

It was time for the evening meal and it was put out
upon the table for the refreshment of the arrivals from
Jerusalem, but there was a gloomy air in the house, for
all its inmates were mourning over what had been done
at Calvary.

No ordinary man had been this rabbi who had talked
with them on their way. It had been easy for Cleopas
and his young friend to take instruction from their
manifest elder and superior, who was evidently, also, so
strongly in accord with them. So they reclined at the
table, with their guest in the place of honor. Imme-
diately he took in his hand a loaf of bread and blessed it
and broke it, and gave to each of them one of the pieces.

For one brief moment they gazed at him in glad, aston-
ished recognition.

“It is the Master!” said something in the heart of
AFTER THE RESURRECTION 277

Cyril, although he did not speak. Then they saw him no
more, for he had vanished out of their sight.

“Did not our hearts burn within us,’ said Cleopas,
“while he talked with us on the way, and while he
opened to us the scriptures?”

Cyril was silent, but he arose at once and so did Cleo-
pas. They did but pause long enough to give to all in
the house the tidings they had brought with them, and
then they set out for Jerusalem.

“We must hasten to tell his disciples,” said Cleopas,
as they walked rapidly onward.

“T must tell Lois and the women and Apollos,” replied
Cyril, “but most of all, I must go and tell my father. I
think this is part of what he was looking for. I shall
never again be dissatisfied about Jesus of Nazareth. He
is not dead, he is risen. It is just as he said to Pilate.
His kingdom is not of this world. So he said to us in the
way. He is the Christ, and he has suffered, and he has
entered into his glory.”

“ Amen!” said Cleopas.

And so they walked on, together, into Jerusalem.
ey oT.









Citation
The swordmaker's son

Material Information

Title:
The swordmaker's son a story of the year 30 A.D.
Creator:
Stoddard, William Osborn, 1835-1925
Century Company ( publisher )
De Vinne Press ( Printer )
Place of Publication:
New York
Publisher:
Century Co.
Manufacturer:
De Vinne Press
Publication Date:
Language:
English
Physical Description:
x p., 277 p. : ill. ; 20 cm.

Subjects

Subjects / Keywords:
Youth -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Fathers and sons -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Swords -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Soldiers -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Romans -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Massacres -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Shipwrecks -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Adventure and adventurers -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Voyages and travels -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Leprosy -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Rabbis -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Juvenile fiction -- Israel ( lcsh )
Bldn -- 1896
Genre:
novel ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage:
United States -- New York -- New York
Target Audience:
juvenile ( marctarget )

Notes

Statement of Responsibility:
by William O. Stoddard.

Record Information

Source Institution:
University of Florida
Rights Management:
This item is presumed to be in the public domain. The University of Florida George A. Smathers Libraries respect the intellectual property rights of others and do not claim any copyright interest in this item. Users of this work have responsibility for determining copyright status prior to reusing, publishing or reproducing this item for purposes other than what is allowed by fair use or other copyright exemptions. Any reuse of this item in excess of fair use or other copyright exemptions may require permission of the copyright holder. The Smathers Libraries would like to learn more about this item and invite individuals or organizations to contact The Department of Special and Area Studies Collections (special@uflib.ufl.edu) with any additional information they can provide.
Resource Identifier:
002393396 ( ALEPH )
ALZ8298 ( NOTIS )
05297764 ( OCLC )
08016101 ( LCCN )

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Full Text
THE SWORDMAKER 5 SO.



WILLIAM © STODDARD,





RmB

The Baldwin Library




University

of
Florida

a ee





THE SWORDMAKER’S SON







WITH A PEBBLE FROM HIS SLING, CYRIL STRIKES THE HELMET FROM
THE ROMAN SOLDIER’S HEAD. (SEE PAGE 21.)



Tas
SWORDMAKER’S SON

A STORY OF THE YEAR 30 A. D.

BY
WILLIAM O. STODDARD

AUTHOR OF ‘THE WHITE CAVE,” ETC.



NEW YORK

THE CENTURY CO.
1896



Copyright, 1895, 1896,
by THE CENTURY Co.

THE De VINNE PREss.



il
HI
IV

VI
VII
VIII
IX

XI
XII
XIII
XIV
XV
XVI
XVII
XVIII
XIX

CONTENTS

THE FuGITIVES FRoM SAMARIA
Tur Rapsrs Lecture

CYRIL AND THE Roman SOLDIER
Brineine Home THE BRIDE
WINE FOR THE FEAST
CAPERNAUM

JERUSALEM

THE ScoURGE OF SMALL Corps
Herop’s AMPHITHEATER

In CaPERNAUM

THE CAVE OF ADULLAM

THE HEALING OF THE LEPER
Tur SIcK OF THE Pansy

JOHN IN “THE Buack CasTLE”
THE Son OF THE Wipow or NAIn
Ezra’s WITHERED Hanp

THe GREAT DrauGur or FIsHEs
THE STORM THAT WAS CALMED
Tur Rapsi’s CURSE

vii

76



viii

XX
XXI
XXII
XXII
XXIV
XXV
XXVI
XXVIT

CONTENTS

THE TOWER IN SILOAM

CYRIL AND THE OUTLAWS

THE MASSACRE OF THE GALILEANS
THE SWORD FOR THE KING
FEEDING THE MULTITUDE

Cyrim’s ERRAND

EzRA AND THE CENTURION

Cyrin aT ROME

XXVIII A Foot-RAckE FOR FREEDOM

XXIX
XXX
XXXI
XXXII

THE SHIPWRECK
THE COLT, THE FOAL OF AN ASS
BEFORE THE LAST PASSOVER

GETHSEMANE

XXXIII Tue Cross AND THE CROWN

XXXIV AFreR THE RESURRECTION

PAGE

153
163
172
178
186
193
202
211
218
228
235
241
248
258
271



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

PAGE
WITH A PEBBLE FROM HIS SuINe, Cyriu STRIKES THE

HELMET FROM THE RoMAN SOLDIER'S Huap . . Frontispiece
Cyrit SHOOK HIS CLENCHED Fist av THE ROMANS ER athe
Rassi Ben Nassur’s Discourse TO HIS Son RAPHAEL 17

“<¢Cyrin,’ saip Lois, Porntine, ‘Look! Hz 1s Coms!’” 33
“ CYRIL AND Lois oN THEIR Way TO CAPERNAUM 47
(¢ JERUSALEM IS GLORIOUS!’” 57
THe MONEY-CHANGERS AND DEALERS EXPELLED FROM

THE TEMPLE 63
“THERE WERE CONTESTS BETWEEN SWORDSMEN ” 69

Rassi BEN NassuR AND THE THRONG BEFORE THE
House oF SIMON PETER 79

IN THE CAVE OF ADULLAM 89

“THE Poor Ourcast was EvIpENTLY Maxine A Dzs-
PERATE Hrrort” 95

“THEY WERE PERMITTED TO STAND AT THE GRATED
Door oF THE DUNGEON” 109

“Lois RETURNED TO HER NEEDLE-WoRK” 117

“
Full Text
THE SWORDMAKER 5 SO.



WILLIAM © STODDARD,


RmB

The Baldwin Library




University

of
Florida

a ee


THE SWORDMAKER’S SON




WITH A PEBBLE FROM HIS SLING, CYRIL STRIKES THE HELMET FROM
THE ROMAN SOLDIER’S HEAD. (SEE PAGE 21.)
Tas
SWORDMAKER’S SON

A STORY OF THE YEAR 30 A. D.

BY
WILLIAM O. STODDARD

AUTHOR OF ‘THE WHITE CAVE,” ETC.



NEW YORK

THE CENTURY CO.
1896
Copyright, 1895, 1896,
by THE CENTURY Co.

THE De VINNE PREss.
il
HI
IV

VI
VII
VIII
IX

XI
XII
XIII
XIV
XV
XVI
XVII
XVIII
XIX

CONTENTS

THE FuGITIVES FRoM SAMARIA
Tur Rapsrs Lecture

CYRIL AND THE Roman SOLDIER
Brineine Home THE BRIDE
WINE FOR THE FEAST
CAPERNAUM

JERUSALEM

THE ScoURGE OF SMALL Corps
Herop’s AMPHITHEATER

In CaPERNAUM

THE CAVE OF ADULLAM

THE HEALING OF THE LEPER
Tur SIcK OF THE Pansy

JOHN IN “THE Buack CasTLE”
THE Son OF THE Wipow or NAIn
Ezra’s WITHERED Hanp

THe GREAT DrauGur or FIsHEs
THE STORM THAT WAS CALMED
Tur Rapsi’s CURSE

vii

76
viii

XX
XXI
XXII
XXII
XXIV
XXV
XXVI
XXVIT

CONTENTS

THE TOWER IN SILOAM

CYRIL AND THE OUTLAWS

THE MASSACRE OF THE GALILEANS
THE SWORD FOR THE KING
FEEDING THE MULTITUDE

Cyrim’s ERRAND

EzRA AND THE CENTURION

Cyrin aT ROME

XXVIII A Foot-RAckE FOR FREEDOM

XXIX
XXX
XXXI
XXXII

THE SHIPWRECK
THE COLT, THE FOAL OF AN ASS
BEFORE THE LAST PASSOVER

GETHSEMANE

XXXIII Tue Cross AND THE CROWN

XXXIV AFreR THE RESURRECTION

PAGE

153
163
172
178
186
193
202
211
218
228
235
241
248
258
271
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

PAGE
WITH A PEBBLE FROM HIS SuINe, Cyriu STRIKES THE

HELMET FROM THE RoMAN SOLDIER'S Huap . . Frontispiece
Cyrit SHOOK HIS CLENCHED Fist av THE ROMANS ER athe
Rassi Ben Nassur’s Discourse TO HIS Son RAPHAEL 17

“<¢Cyrin,’ saip Lois, Porntine, ‘Look! Hz 1s Coms!’” 33
“ CYRIL AND Lois oN THEIR Way TO CAPERNAUM 47
(¢ JERUSALEM IS GLORIOUS!’” 57
THe MONEY-CHANGERS AND DEALERS EXPELLED FROM

THE TEMPLE 63
“THERE WERE CONTESTS BETWEEN SWORDSMEN ” 69

Rassi BEN NassuR AND THE THRONG BEFORE THE
House oF SIMON PETER 79

IN THE CAVE OF ADULLAM 89

“THE Poor Ourcast was EvIpENTLY Maxine A Dzs-
PERATE Hrrort” 95

“THEY WERE PERMITTED TO STAND AT THE GRATED
Door oF THE DUNGEON” 109

“Lois RETURNED TO HER NEEDLE-WoRK” 117

“