Achsah, the sister of Jairus

Book 2. Copyright N°

COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT

*

ACHSAH

THE SISTER OF JAIRUS

By

MABEL CRONISE JONES

BROADWAY PUBLISHING CO.

835 Broadway , New York

Copyright, 1911,

BY

MABEL CRONISE JONES

ACHSAH

Chapter I

The day was stifling, and Achsah had sought the lofty roof-garden, hoping to get a breath of cooler air. But even in the garden, sheltered by the mighty boughs of overhanging trees, she found no relief from the general oppressiveness. Capernaum was not often so parched, for, although the city stood somewhat back from the beach, the breezes of Galilee swept over it continually.

But now, for many weeks, no rain had fallen and Capernaum was suffering from a prolonged drought. The priests spent their days in the synagogue, offering incense and supplicating Jehovah. Jairus, as one of the rulers of the synagogue, was there much of the time.

Achsah’s life was so circumscribed at best, that she missed him sorely from their mid-day meal. Even a Jewish maiden, brought up strictly according to the teachings of the Mosaic law, and kept under constant surveillance, was possessed of a woman’s heart. So it chanced that Achsah sometimes chafed and fretted at her life. It happened now that she gave an impatient sigh, and then took a look over the roof as if hoping to descry something new. But it was all the same as ever. The garden around her, with its plants a c ft % a &

and flowers, looked parched and dried. On either side the garden were play-grounds for Salome, but the child had been too ill of late to take much pleasure in her usual sports and games.

The roof opposite the garden — for the house of Jairus was built to enclose a square court — was the drying place used by the servants. There was nothing pleasing to Achsah in the scene, and she drew her brows together in a sharp frown. The entire roof on both the outer and inner edge was fenced in by a battlement, as ordered by the Mosaic Law.

Achsah went listlessly to the side which overhung the street and looked below. She was guilty of a social transgression in so doing, but just at that moment she felt capable of defying every authority and custom.

She watched the people for a while; only a few Jewish tradesmen sauntered by and occasionally a Roman soldier on his way to the castellated fort, which Achsah could discern in the distance. Suddenly, she drew back with a hot, indignant flush on her cheeks. A young Roman officer, gazing curiously around, had caught a glimpse of the beautiful Jewish girl looking down upon him from her lofty vantage ground.

Immediately he made her a low salute, but though the action seemed both involuntary and reverent, Achsah was none the less angry.

“He knew that I should not have been there,” she said to herself wrathfully ; “he should have acted as if he had not seen me. I hate the Romans. They may conquer the Jewish nation, but they can never conquer the Jews themselves.”

She walked to the outer staircase which led from the roof-garden to the court below.

As she neared the ground her name was called, and a t t $ a J)

glancing down she saw Salome, her brother's only child, sitting by the fountain.

“Art thou here, Salome ? I thought thou wert asleep.”

“I could not sleep, Aunt Achsah; and I have been longing for thee. I thought thou wert in the garden, but I did not feel strong enough to climb up there.”

“And what art thou doing here, my star?” Achsah asked, sitting down on the little bench beside her niece, and caressing the dark, curly head.

“I was trying to imagine that the sound of the water dripping down from the fountain was the patter of rain.”

“And didst thou succeed?” Achsah asked tenderly.

“No, indeed, I did not. For although I shut my eyes tightly, I knew that the sun was pouring down and that the grass was all dried up.”

“Shall we stay out here, my precious one?”

“I am so tired of it, I would rather not. There is nothing to be seen but the walls of our home on . this side of the fountain.”

Achsah looked at the pale, pinched face wistfully, the tears coming into her eyes as she saw how worn Salome seemed.

“Art thou feeling worse to-day, dear one ?” she questioned softly.

“No, Aunt Achsah, only so very tired; I wish I might go off somewhere.”

“Salome, couldst thou walk as far as the Great Grove? If thou canst, I will get thy mother’s leave and we will go. Thou canst lie under the trees there, and perchance so near the sea, we will find some little breeze. I will take some fruit for thee to eat, and I will tell thee tales of all the Jewish wars and conquests, as mother used to tell me. Shall we go?”

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“Yea, let us go,” the child cried eagerly; “if only mother will permit.”

Achsah smiled and kissed the little worn face. “Go to thy room, and I will speak to thy mother.” So, hand in hand, the maiden and the child went in. Salome slowly climbed the broad staircase to her room on the second floor, while Achsah searched the day-rooms below, knowing that somewhere there she should find Binea.

At last she found her, a gentle, patient little Jewess, whose time and thoughts were given almost wholly to the ordering of her household.

“Binea, I wish to take Salome to the Grove; the child needs a little change. Thou dost not care?”

“Of course I care,” the wife of Jairus said quickly; “Jairus does not like thee to go about unattended; when thou dost do it, I can see that he is ill-pleased, though thou art so dear to him he cannot chide. Thou hast gone out thrice of late thus, and it must not be, as if thou wert a poor fisherman’s wife and not the sister of Jairus.”

“I go veiled, Binea, and when I have been forth, it has been on some errand of mercy that could not wait. We are not as we were, thou must remember. Each year the Roman exactions leave us poorer than we were the year before. I cannot always wait until some servant now is free to go with me. To-day, Salome needs some change. If ye wish, send Adoniram down to the Grove when he is through with his work.”

“But then thou must go alone,” Binea said hesitatingly.

“And if we must, what then? Methinks we’ll grow accustomed to far worse things than that, my sister. See! We Jews of Capernaum are so poor that we could not even build our own synagogue, and 6 our brothers in Jerusalem were forced to send us aid or leave us without a place of worship. Jairus is as well to do as any Hebrew in Capernaum, but thou dost know well, Binea, that we are really poor nowadays. It doth not behoove us to keep the customs of former times. Trouble not thyself, we’ll go by the side street and wear our veils; the Grove will be deserted at this hour and Salome can have a little change.”

“Well, if thou must go ” said Binea, still un-

certainly.

Achsah laughed and kissed her. “Thou art too - troubled over little things. Now that our nation has fallen under the Romans’ power, what matters any lesser thing?”

She gave her brother’s wife no time for further answer, but hastily sought out Salome, whom she soon attired for their walk. Then the two went out by a side door, and the Grove, with its thick trees, was quickly reached. This was a sort of public garden, and although kept by the Romans, was free of access to all. The Jews often went there, for the place was beautiful — before them stretched the sea of Galilee; to the south they could see the fertile plain of Gennesaret; back of them was the Junction Fount, which they could dimly descry, marking the meeting place of the four great roads which led to Arabia, Egypt, Tyre, and Damascus.

Usually this place was thronged with merchants from all lands, who met there to traffic and to barter their goods. The heat, however, had driven all away, and the Fount, usually such a busy spot, was now silent and deserted.

Salome threw herself upon the grass, and rested her head on Achsah’s lap.

“See!” the child exclaimed “it is the month of Ab, a c t) s a b

and those trees should be laden with ripe figs; instead, they are all parched and dried.”

“The Romans will have then so much the less,” said Achsah bitterly. “They do wither up us Jews, even as the sun hath withered that tree.”

“Thou dost hate the Romans, Aunt Achsah,” Salome said, fondling her hand. “How came they to do us so much harm?”

“The God of Abraham was angry with us, dearest star, and visited the sins of all our fathers upon us. Our God hath not yet forgiven us for going after foreign gods. So does he give the Romans power and might to humble us. Each year they give us greater burdens to bear, and save some King shall come to set us free, I know not what the end will be.”

“It all is strange,” said Salome thoughtfully. “Why should the Romans injure us? We all are people just like them; but never mind. It makes thee look sad to talk of them. Art thou not glad we came? There is a cool breeze here, Aunt Achsah, and we seem to have the garden to ourselves.”

“There is a cool breeze,” Achsah assented wonderingly ; “ ’tis strange we could not feel it in thy father’s house.” Then Achsah aroused her thoughts which seemed inclined that day to wander far, and told her little niece tales from her own brain, until at last the child, fanned by the cooler breeze, fell sound asleep, her first refreshing sleep for many days.

Achsah sat still, not daring to move, looking out upon the sea of Galilee, and lost in her own meditations until a low exclamation of surprise caused her to glance up.

There, looking down upon her in amazement, she saw the Roman officer, who had saluted her that very morning.

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Salome’s head still rested in her lap, so that she could not move to rise without disturbing the child. With an angry frown she pulled her veil about her face, but ere she could determine what to say, the officer spoke.

“I crave your pardon, maid, but in unusual times one must do unusual things. See ! a storm is coming and will be upon us soon. You were too engrossed to note it.”

Achsah, with a little murmur of surprise, looked out across the sea and saw that a furious storm had surely gathered above Galilee’s blue waters. A few drops of rain fell even as she looked.

The officer, with a hasty exclamation, stooped and lifted Salome into his arms, but so gently that the child never woke.

“You cannot reach your home before the storm bursts,” he said decisively; “that is, if you dwell in the house of Jairus, where I saw you this morning. Do you abide there ?” he questioned with sharp directness.

“Yes,” she replied coldly.

“HI take you to a fisherman’s hut, then, just outside the Garden. Come, ’tis probably deserted, but ’twill shelter you.”

Achsah, feeling an impotent anger at her own helplessness, hurried after him. For herself she cared nothing for the storm, but in Salome’s weak condition, a sudden drenching might produce serious results.

Chapter II

Just as the storm burst upon the earth, they reached the hut, and the Roman laid down his burden upon a little heap of sweet grasses piled in one corner. Then he turned to the older maiden.

“I am truly sorry that there is no couch for thee to sit upon,” he said, courteously. “I would make thee more comfortable if I could.”

She flushed beneath her veil. “For your goodness to the daughter of Jairus, I must accord you thanks,” she said distantly; “but I pray you say not ‘thou’ or ‘thee’ to me; ’tis only in our families we use those words.”

“Then do I crave your pardon yet again,” the officer said smilingly; “but my ignorance of all your customs should not be put down as my fault. You Jews do give us no opportunity to know aught of your ways. You treat us like the dust beneath your feet.

Oh yes ” as Achsah made a faint exclamation;

“you give us outward respect and reverence because we are Romans, and now are rulers of the world; yet ’tis plain to see that in your hearts you hate us; you accord us honor with contempt ; you sneer as we pass by; you make it plain that we are loathed by every one of you.”

“What then?” she questioned coldly. “You have our gold; you control our tradesmen and our merchandise ; our commerce is in your hands ; we are weighted down with the heavy taxes imposed by your io

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unscrupulous officials. ’Tis true the emperor doth give us the right to worship in our synagogues, and in the temple at Jerusalem. He doth not interfere with our religion. Why ? Because, forsooth, he knows what our God has accomplished in the times gone past, for us. He fears Jehovah. What do you care for more than you have now? Do you expect the Jew to kiss the hand that humbles him? We are not dogs!”

“No, and you take good care to push your defiance to the utmost limit that you dare. The emperor has borne much from you Jews, because you are a peculiar people. Then, you helped Caesar in the Alexandrine wars, and he rewarded you with many privileges that Antony and Dolabella confirmed in their consulate. These rights have the Jews received most strangely. They show our emperor scant courtesy ; they push the bounds of his forbearance to the utmost. I tell you, Rome will not long endure such arrogance.”

“What will you do?” Achsah questioned scornfully.

“The emperor will burn your holy city to the ground; he will scatter all you Hebrews through the world ; he will leave not one stone on another in all Jerusalem.”

Achsah laughed contemptuously. “You talk to me like this, then wonder in the same breath that we do not welcome the Romans to our homes.”

He flushed hotly. “I crave your pardon, maiden, still once more. I meant not to speak such things, but your very silence breathes forth such contempt and scorn for me and Rome, that I were less than man — or more — to hear it meekly. Will you not pardon me?”

“ Tis of small moment ; what the Romans put upon us we must bear. We are helpless. Even I, perforce, accustomed to all the observances of the Jewish house-

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hold — am standing here alone with you, a stranger and a Roman. The fault is mine, I came forth unattended/’

A strange look came at those words into the Roman’s eyes. “If it be so great a sin to speak by chance unto a man whom you know not, then will I go forth this instant to the fort whither I was bound when I saw you. Shall I go?”

“No,” she said hastily. “The storm is most terrible, and you would have been safely sheltered but for us.”

“Then if I stay, forget just for a moment that I am a Roman. My name is Junius, and I am an officer of the emperor, and a distant relative as well. I have something to say to you concerning Jairus.”

“What can you know of him?” she questioned haughtily.

“Who can be in Capernaum and not know Jairus?” he returned. “What I learned, I learned by chance — no matter how. I have some friends among the Hebrews that would be more politic than you. They are not Jews, you say, then. Oh ! they hate me at the heart full as much as you, I make no doubt; but they seek to hide it. If they ever have a chance to slay me, that they will do, for all their smooth, fair words. Now they have told me much gossip of the town, and of the synagogue as well — so was it I did learn something that concerns you. Shall I tell it?”

“As you will,” she said indifferently.

He bit his lip angrily. “If that be your mind, there is no need for me to go on; you cannot even speak to me fairly, when I seek to do you service. This same day when I saw you on the roof garden and saluted you, I did it with as much reverence as I would had you been a goddess from the sky. But 12 a c b $ a if

you ! — you seemed to think my very look was pollution. You — are you the wife of Jairus?”

“His sister,” she corrected curtly, then slowly added, “If there be aught concerning him which I should know, then tell me.”

“You know not how to plead, I see,” he said with a smile; “you ask your favors with an air of large command. Yet, I believe that ere a year has passed, you will be a suppliant to me.”

“Never!” she cried hotly, throwing back her veil in a moment of forgetfulness, and looking full at him with blazing eyes. “I — a suppliant to you ! You are beside yourself.”

“Perhaps,” he answered quietly, gazing full upon her glowing face, “yet do I think that I am right; and know this now — whatever favor you do ask of me, that shall be granted, I swear it by the temple of Jupiter Ammon.”

“You should not swear at all,” she quickly interposed. “It is very wrong. Why should I ask aught of you? You are distraught.”

“With the madness of Venus, then,” the Roman muttered low, but although Achsah heard, she did not comprehend, and he, with momentary wisdom, did not explain his ejaculation. “Last night, when the name of Jairus was mentioned in the gossip, I gave it no heed ; what, in good sooth, was Jairus or any Jew to me? But when I saw you, I fain would have told you all, for you love Jairus, and I would keep grief from your eyes, if so I could.”

“Such talk is not for the ears of Jewish women,” she answered. “ Tis thus I presume you talk to every woman at your capital; but I tell you, we are made in other mold. Now, if you have truly anything to say, declare it.”

“Fll tell you of your brother — but of myself just 13 a c t> s a i)

one word first. Never to any maiden in Rome or any land, have I spoken as I did just speak to you. If I can win you for my wife — Hush ! — that will I do. But if you come not to me willingly with all your scorn and cold contempt put underneath your foot — then would I not take you to wife for all the dowry that a Croesus might bestow. That is all. I love you. I loved you when my eyes first fell on you to-day, and Venus herself must smile upon my suit.”

“Now if you do not hush,” she broke in angrily, “HI awaken Salome and go forth in the storm ; stay here and listen to your talk, I will not. You are drunk with wine.”

“That is not true, fair maid, but let it pass. Venus will fight for me, and you will not forget my words. Remember they were from my heart of hearts. Of Jairus, this is what I learned. And you will do well to take earnest heed to what I say, if you really love him.”

Chapter III

“Know first, sister of Jairus, that out of contempt for the man who servilely seeks my favor thus, even while he sneers at me in his heart, I did fill him full the last time that he came — with Roman wine. So, as he never had tasted it before it did loose his tongue and he told me things that now he does not remember that he said ; for he was drunk. Thus was it, that instead of telling to me the merest gossip, as his custom is, he told me graver things ; some of them do relate to rebellion against the emperor — these can I crush myself. But he also made it plain that Jairus is much feared and envied by many of the Jews. You know well that the Hebrews of Capernaum are poor; Jairus alone does seem to prosper somewhat. For this they hate him ; they hate him, too, because he is a ruler in the synagogue. So some who have a fancied grievance against him plan to waylay him when next he journeys to Jerusalem.”

Achsah’s veil once more was cast aside, and her great eyes searched deep the face of Junius as if she would peer down to his very soul, and see if truth were written there.

“How can I tell if all your tale be true?” she cried at last. “If it be true, then tell the politarchs ; that is your duty. Why should a Jew conspire against Jairus? Is he not the greatest of them all? The noblest and the best?”

“That all may be, even as you say, fair maid. But 15 a c ft s a b

in his goodness and his prosperity lie the root of this jealousy. Men do not envy their equals or inferiors; ’tis their superiors alone that stir them up to rancorous hatred.”

“Tell me,” the maiden cried imperiously, “who told you all this tale?”

“I told you that it was no matter how the plot came unto my ears, and I cannot tell you the name of this man. The emperor is very strict in his commands that we be not mixed up in your religious broils. I have told you more than I did mean to tell, that you might know how I gained such knowledge — I, a Roman! I have told you more than prudence dictates, that you might be assured of my truth, and also,” he said in a low tone, “that you might know how I do trust you. The man’s name must I not tell for many reasons; it might defeat some plans of mine did I do so.”

“Then we are helpless, and I know not what to’ think. If I tell Jairus this story, with no proofs or names, he will either laugh it all to scorn or else regard, perhaps, his truest friend as a secret foe. Your tale is but a phantom of the brain.”

“You shall yet beg my forgiveness for those most unjust words,” he flashed back hotly. “I seek to serve you in your own despite, but I must still maintain my honor inviolate and respect my emperor’s commands. Tell this to Jairus, but mention no word of all our talk to any other. Jairus will know what tradesmen feel aggrieved with him ; what ones do seek his company to Jerusalem; they plan, I take it, to murder him upon the road to Jerusalem, and then give out that they did fall’ among thieves, and that so it was your brother lost his life. What noble Jews dwell in your midst!” he added mockingly: “I presume they go to your synagogue, and make long 16 a c 6 & a ij

prayers upon the street corners. I know this man doth. I have heard him !”

“Nay,” the girl cried angrily, “we are not hypocrites; no Jew would stain his hands with a brother’s blood. That is murder. Jehovah doth forbid it. For that crime was not Cain cursed by all mankind and forced to live a wanderer upon the face of the earth ?”

“And would you trust every Jew you know in Capernaum, with your honor and your brother’s life ?”

“I am a maid,” she coldly said. “Until we put on the married raiment, we know not many men outside of our own households ; so, in Capernaum there be many Jews I do not know; yet they are Jews, and subject to the law of Moses. They strive to live according to the doctrines of the law ; so are they worthy of my confidence. Of those whom I have talked with there is not one who would be guilty of such a deed as you have named. I would trust them utterly, every

one ” then a sudden flash of recollection sweeping

over her, she added truthfully, “There is one alone, whom I dislike, but the fault doth doubtless lie with me. He is Lamech, the son of Zerubbabel.”

A subtle change on the face of Junius caught the quick eye of Achsah.

“Now did you speak of him — of Lamech?”

“What matter of whom I spoke?” the Roman questioned coldly ; “you do not believe me. Had any man so set my word at naught, he would not now be living; because you are a woman, a Jewess, and the maiden whom I love, you know full well that you can heap insults on my head, and that I am powerless to defend myself. I seek but to serve you; yet you spurn me like a dog.”

Achsah looked at him, hearing, but until later, not comprehending his words.

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“So it was Lamech. I must believe your tale. Jairus will know well how to defend himself when I have told him all. Lamech! strange things have oftentimes been said of him, but there has never been aught proved against him that I know. I crave your pardon for my doubts, good Roman,” she added with an effort : “why you should thus seek to serve me, I know not, but I do thank you. My words to-day are weak, but Jairus shall voice our gratitude himself.”

“I want no thanks, save yours,” the Roman returned firmly. “Why I seek to serve you — I have said. I thought at first you were the wife of Jairus and then ”

“Nay,” she interrupted quickly, “ ’tis plain that you know not much of all our ways. My garments are those of a maid — not of a wife or of a widow. Now the storm hath ceased for a space; will you not go on to the fort? A servant will come and find us here, and I would rather you were gone.”

“Then I will go, although I fain would stay; but from a distance I shall keep a watch on you. If your servant comes not soon, then will I send some trusty fisherman to carry the young child unto your home See me again you shall, though how or when, I know not. The Jewess maid shall be the Roman’s wife!”

“You do presume too far,” she said sternly, “because you have done me some service this day, is no reason why you should use such words. Go!”

With one last look that strove to penetrate her veil, he bowed and left.

When he had surely gone, the maiden placed herself within the doorway and looked eagerly around. Ere long she descried the figure of Adoniram coming toward her, and she called his name eagerly.

“Oh, thou art safe and dry,” Adoniram cried joy- 18 a c ft s a t>

fully. “We did fear for thee, and the wife af Jairus is half distraught. Where is the child?”

“In here, Adoniram, asleep and safe; not a drop of rain hath fallen on her. Canst thou carry her in thy arms? Her sandals do but poorly shield her feet, and I would not break her slumber unless we must.”

“Yea, mistress, I can carry her with ease; though she is eleven years, she is in weight no more than many a child of six. This sleep will do her good.”

Then the servitor, with greatest care, lifted Salome, and with Achsah by his side, hastened back to the abode of Jairus.

Binea, watching anxiously, turned pale with fear when she saw them approach, for she thought that some terrible accident must have befallen the child of her love. Before she could speak, however, Achsah held up a warning finger.

“Hush, Binea! Salome is well and sleeping; we were safe within a fisherman’s hut before the storm broke. Adoniram will carry Salome to her room.”

“Now the God of Abraham be praised!” ejaculated Binea softly ; and speeding rapidly up the stairs she entered her child’s room, and from a corner brought forth the mattress or “bed” which, during the day, was always rolled up. With Achsah’s help she deftly placed it in a cool corner of the room, and Adoniram kneeling down slid Salome upon it. The child moved restlessly, but did not waken, and all three of the older persons stole softly from the room.

“I am relieved to see thee,” Binea cried, grasping Achsah’s arm tightly. “I am never at ease if the child is out of my sight, though I do know well how thou dost love her. She took no hurt to-day, you think? I have been chiding myself severely for allowing her to go.”