 CHAPTER 9 To understand thoroughly what happened to the Naderayn at the Khan, the reader must be reminded that Eastern Inns were different from the end of the Western world. They were called Khan's from the Persian, and in simplest form were fenced enclosures without house or shed, often without a gate or entrance. Their sides were chosen with reference to shade, defence, or water. Such were the Inns that sheltered Jacob when he went to seek a wife in Padan Aram. Their like may be seen at this day in the stopping places of the desert. On the other hand, some of them, especially those on the roads between great cities, like Jerusalem and Alexandria, were princely establishments, monuments to the piety of the king to build them. In ordinary, however, they were no more than the house or possession of a sheik, in which, as in the headquarters, his weight is tribe. Lodging the traveller was the least of their uses. They were markets, factories, forts, places of assemblage and residence for merchants and artisans, quite as much as places of shelter for belated and wandering rarefarers. Within their walls, all the year round, occurred the multiplied daily transactions of a town. The singular management of these hostories was a feature long to strike a Western mind with most force. There was no host or hostess, no clerk, cook or kitchen, a steward at the gate was all the assertion of government or proprietorship, and he were visible. Strangers arriving stayed at will without rendering a count. A consequence of the system was, that whoever came had to bring his food and culinary out at with him, or buy them of dealers in the carn. The same rule held good as to his bed and bedding, and forage for his beasts. Shelter, rest, shelter, and protection, were all he looked for from the proprietor, and they were gratuities. The piece of synagogues was sometimes broken by brawling disputants, but that of the carns never. The houses and all their repertences were sacred, a well was not more so. The carnet Bethlehem, before which Joseph and his wife stopped, was a good specimen of his class, being neither very primitive nor very princely. The building was purely oriental, that is to say, a quadrangular block of rough stones, one story high, flat-roofed, externally unbroken by window, and with but one principal entrance, a doorway, which was also a gateway, on the eastern side, or front. The road ran by the door so near, that a chalk-dust half-covered the lintel. A fence of flat rocks, beginning at the north-eastern corner of the pile, extended many yards down the slope to a point, from whence it swept westwardly, to limestone bluff, making what was in the highest degree essential to a respectable carn, a safe enclosure for animals. In a village like Bethlehem, as there was but one shake, there could not well be more than one carn, and though born in the place, the Nazarene, from long residence elsewhere, had no claim to hospitality in the town, moreover the enumeration for which it was coming might be the work of weeks or months. Roman deputies in the provinces were proverbially slow, and to impose himself and wife, for a period so uncertain upon acquaintances or relations, was out of the question. So, before we drew nigh the great house, one who was yet climbing the slope, and the steep place is toiling to hasten the donkey, the fear that he might not find accommodations and a carn, became a painful anxiety. For he found the road thronged with men and boys, who with great ado were taking their cattle, horses, and camels, to and from the valley, some to water, some to the neighbouring caves. And when he was come close by, his alarm was not so late by the discovery of a crowd, investing the door of the establishment, while the enclosure adjoining, broad as it was, seemed already full. We cannot reach the door, Joseph said, in a slow way. Let us stop here and learn, if you can, what has happened. The wife, without answering, quietly drew the wimple aside. The look of fatigue at first upon her face, changed to one of interest. She found herself at the edge of an assemblage, that could not be other than a matter of curiosity to her. Although it was common enough at the cards of any of the high ways, which a great caravans were accustomed to trevours, they were men on foot, running hither and scissor, talking shrilly and in all the tongues of Syria, men on horseback screaming to men on camels, men struggling doubtfully with fractious cows and shriking sheep, men peddling bread and wine, and among the miles a herd of boys apparently in chains of a herd of dogs. Everybody and everything seemed to be in motion at the same time. Possibly the first spectator was too wary to be long attracted by the scene. In a little while she sighed, and settled down on the pillion, and as if in search of peas and rest, or in expectation of some one, looked off to the south and up to the tall cliffs of demand of paradise, then faintly reddening under the setting sun. While she was thus looking, and men pushed his way out of the press, and stopping close by the donkey, faced about with an angry brow, the netherine spoke to him, As I am what I take you to be, good friend, a son of Judah, may I ask the cause of this multitude? The stranger turned fiercely, but seeing the solemn countenance of Joseph, so in keeping with a deep, slow voice and speech, he raised his hand in half-celutation, and replied, Peace be to you, Rabbi! I am a son of Judah, and will answer you, I dwell in Beth-Dagan, which, you know, is what used to be the land of the tribe of Dunn. On the road to drop off from Odin, said Joseph, Ah! You have been in Beth-Dagan! The man satisfied his face, softening yet more. What wonderers we of Judah are? I have been away from the ridge, all to Ephraith, as our father Jacob called it, for many years, when the proclamator went abroad, requiring all Hebrews to be numbered at the city of their birth. That is my business here, Rabbi! Joseph's face remained stolid as a mask, while he remarked, I have come for that also, I and my wife. The stranger glanced at Mary, and kept silence. She was looking up at the bow-top of Gader. The son touched her up-turned face, and felt the violent depths of her eyes, and upon her parted lips, drab was an aspiration which could not have been to a mortal. For the moment all the humanity of her beauty seemed refined away. She was as wee-fancy they are, who sit close by the gate in the transfiguring light of heaven. The Beth-Daganite, sore the original of what centuries after, came as a vision of genius to send the divine, and left him immortal. Of what was I speaking? Ah! I remember. I was about to say that when I heard of the order to come here, I was angry. Then I thought of the old hill, and the town, and the valley, falling away into the depths of Cedron, of the vines and orchards, and fields of grain, unfailing since the days of Boas and Ruth, of the familiar mountains, Gida here, Gibbia, Yonder, Maelius there, which when I was a boy, were the walls of the world to me, and I forgave the tyrant and came, I and Rachel my wife, and Deborah and Mikkel, our roses of Sharon. The man paused again, looking abruptly at Mary, who was now looking at him and listening. Then he said, Rabbi, why not your wife go to mine, who may see her Yonder with the children under the leaning olive tree at the bend of the road? I tell you, he turned to Joseph, and spoke positively, I tell you, the carn is full, it is useless to ask at the gate. Joseph's will was slow, like his mind. He hesitated, but at length replied, The offer is kind, but at every room for us or not in the house, we will go see your people. Let me speak to the gatekeeper myself, I will return quickly. And putting the leading strap in the stranger's hand, he pushed into the stone crowd. The keeper sat on a great set of block out south the gate. It's a wall beside him, leaned a javelin. A dog squatted on the block by his side. The peace of Jehovah be with you, said Joseph, at last confronting the keeper. What you may give me, find again, and when found, be it many times multiply to you and yours, you turn to watchmen gravely, though without moving. I am a Bethlehemite. The Joseph in his most deliberate way, is a not room for, there is not. You may have heard of me, Joseph of Nazareth. This is the house of my fathers, I am of the line of David. These words, held to Nazarene's hope, if they failed him, further repeal was idle, even that of the offer of many shekels. To be a son of Judah was one thing, in the tribal opinion a great thing. To be of the house of David was yet another. On the tongue of a Hebrew, there could be no higher boast. A thousand years and more had passed since the boy's shepherd became the successor of Saul and found a royal family. Wars, calamities, other kings, and the countless obscuring processes of time had, as respects fortune, lowered his descendants to the common Jewish level. The bread to they ate came to them of toil never more humble, yet they had the benefit of history sacredly kept, of which genealogy was a first chapter and the last. They could not become unknown while wherever they went in Israel, acquaintance drew after it a respect amounting to reverence. If this were so in Jerusalem and elsewhere, certainly one of the sacred line might reasonably rely upon it at the door of the car of Bethlehem. To say, as Joseph said, this is the house of my father's, was to save the truth most simply and literally, for it was the very house Ruth ruled as a wife of Boaz, the very house in which Jesse and his ten sons, David's youngest, were born, the very house in which Samuel came seeking a king and found him, the very house which David gave to the son of Bar Delay, the friendly Gileadide, the very house in which Jeremiah, by prayer, rescued the remnant of his race flying before the Babylonians. The appeal was not without effect. The keeper of the gate slid down from the sadder block, and laying his hand upon his beard, said respectfully, Rabbi, I cannot tell you when this door first opened to welcome to the traveler, but it was more than a thousand years ago, and in all the time there is no known instance of a good man turned away, say, friend, there was no room to rest him in. If it has been so with the stranger, just cause must the steward have, who says no to one of the line of David. Wherefore, I salute you again, and if you care to go with me, I will show you that there is not a lodging-place left in the house, neither in the chambers, nor in the loons, nor in the court, not even on the roof. May I ask when you came, but now, the keeper smiled, the stranger that dwelleth with you shall be as one borne among you, and thou shalt love him as thyself. Is that not a law, Rabbi? Joseph was silent. If it be the law, can I say to one, a long time come, goes thy way, and neither is here to take thy place. Yet Joseph held his peace. And if I said so, to whom would the place belong? See the many that have been waiting, some of them since noon. Who are all these people? asked Joseph, turning to the crowd, and why are they here at this time? That which doubtless brought you, Rabbi, the decree of the Caesar. The keeper threw an interrogative glance at the Nazarene, then continued, brought to most of those who have lodging in the house, and yesterday the caravan passing from Damascus to Arabia and Lower Egypt arrived. These you see here belong to it, man and camels. Still Joseph persisted. The court is large, he said. Yes, but it is heaped with cargos, with bales of silk and pockets of spices and goods of every kind. Then for a moment the face of the applicant lost its solidity. The lustrous, staring eyes dropped, but some walls he next said, I do not care for myself, but I have with me my wife, and the night is cold, colder on these heights than in Nazaris. She cannot live in the open air, it is not room in the town. These people, the keeper waved his hand to the throne before the door, have all besought the town, and they report, its accommodation all engaged. Again Joseph studied the ground, saying half to himself, She is so young, if I make a bet on the hill, the frosts will kill her. Then he spoke to the keeper again. It may be you knew her parents, Joachim and Anna, ones of Bethlehem, and like myself of the line of David. Yes, I knew them, they were good people, that was in my youth. This time the keeper's eyes soared to ground and soared. Suddenly he raised his head, if I cannot make a room for you, he said, I cannot turn your way Rabbi, I will do the best I can for you. How many are of your party?" Joseph reflected. My wife and a friend with his family, from Beth Dagon, a little town over by Joppa, and all six of us. Very well, you shall not lie out on the ridge. Bring your people and hasten, for when the sun goes down behind the mountain, he knows the night comes quickly, and is nearly there now. I give you the blessing of the house of Stravner, that of the sojourner will follow. So saying, the netherine went back joyfully to Mary and the best Dagonite. In a little while the latter brought up his family, the women mounted on donkeys. The wife was matronly. The daughters were images of what she must have been in youth, and as they drew nigh the door, the keeper knew them to be of the humble class. This is she of whom I spoke, said a netherine, and these are our friends. Mary's veil was raised. Blue eyes and hair of gold, muttered the steward to himself, seeing but her. So looked a young king when he went to sing before Saul. Then he took the leading-strap from Joseph and said to Mary, Peace to you, old daughter of David, then to the others, peace to you all. Then to Joseph, Rabbi, follow me. The party were conducted into a wide passage, paved with stone, from which they entered the court of the calm. To a stranger the scene would have been curious, but they noticed at the ruins that yawned darkly upon them from all sides, and the court itself, only to remark how crowded they were. By lane reserved in the stowage of the cargoes, and then by passage, similar to the one at the entrance, they emerged into the enclosure adjoining the house, and came upon camels, horses, and donkeys, tethered and dozing in closed groups. Among them were the keepers, men of many lands, and they, too, slept or kept silent watch. They went down the slope of the crowded yard slowly, for the dull carriers of the women, at wills of their own. At length they turned into a path, running towards the grey limestone bluff overlooking the car on the west. "'We are going to the cave,' said Joseph laconically. The guide lingered till Mary came to her side. "'The cave to which we are going,' he said to her, "'must have been a resort of your ancestor David. From the field below us, and from the well down in the valley, used to drive his flocks to it for safety, and afterwards, when he was king, he came back to the old house here for rest and health, bringing great trained of animals. The mangers yet remain as they were in his day, better a bed on the floor where he has slept, than one in the courtyard or out by the roadside. Ah! Here is the house before the cave." The speech must not be taken as an apology for the lodging offered. There was no need of apology. The place was the best than a disposal. The guests were simple folks, by hopes of life easily satisfied. To the due of that period, moreover, a boat in Caverns was a familiar idea, made so by everyday occurrences, and by what he heard of sabbaths and synagogues. How much of Jewish history, how many of the many exciting incidents in that history, had transpired in caves. Yet further, these people were Jews of Bethlehem, with whom the idea was especially commonplace, was a locality abounded with caves great and small, some of which had been dwelling places from the time of the Yemen, at Horides. No more was there a offense to them in the fact that a cavern to which they were being taken, had been or was a stable. They were the descendants of a race of herdsmen, whose flocks perpetually shared both their habitations and wanderings, and keeping with the custom derived from Abraham, the tent of the Bedouin, yet sheltered his horses and children alike. So they obeyed to keep it cheerfully, and gazed at the house, feeling only a natural curiosity. Everything associated with the history of David was interesting to them. The building was low and narrow, projecting but a little from the rock to which it was joined at the rear, and wholly without a window. In its blank front there was a door, swung on enormous hinges, and sickly daubed with orcish clay. While the wooden boulders-lock was being pushed back, the women were assisted from their pillions. Upon the opening of the door, the keeper called out, Come in. The guests entered, and stared about them. It became apparent immediately that a house was spot on mask or covering for the mouth of a natural cave or grotto, probably forty feet long, nine or ten high, and twelve or fifteen in width. The light streamed through the doorway, over an uneven floor, falling upon piles of grain and fodder, and earth and wear and household property, occupying the centre of the chamber. Along the sides were mangas, low enough for sleep, and built-in stones laid in cement. There were no stalls or petitions of any kind. Dust and chaff yellowed the floor, filled all the crevices and hollows, and sickened the spider-webs, which dropped from the ceiling like bits of dirty linen. Otherwise the place was cleanly, and to appearance as comfortable as any of the arched leuans of the camp proper. In fact, a cave was a model and first suggestion of the leuans. Come in, said the guide. These piles upon the floor are for travellers like yourselves. Take what of them you need. When he spoke to Mary, can you rest here? The place is sanctified, she answered. I leave you, then. Please be with you all. When he was gone, they busied to themselves, making the cave habitable. End of Chapter 9 of Book 1 of Ben Hur, A Tale of the Christ, by Lou Wellers. Chapter 10 of Book 1 of Ben Hur, A Tale of the Christ. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Ben Hur, A Tale of the Christ, Book 1, Chapter 10. At a certain hour in the evening the shouting and stir of the people in and about the con ceased. At the same time every Israelite, if not already upon his feet, rose, solemnized his face, looked toward Jerusalem, crossed his hands upon his breast, and prayed. For it was the sacred ninth hour when sacrifices were offered in the temple of Moria, and God was supposed to be there. When the hands of the worshippers fell down, the commotion broke forth again. Everybody hastened to bread or to make his pallet. A little later the lights were put out, and there was silence, and in sleep. About midnight someone on the roof cried out, What light is that in the sky? Awake, brethren! Awake and see! The people, half asleep, sat up and looked. Then they became wide awake. The wonder struck. And the stirs spread to the court below and to the ruins, soon the entire tenetry of the house and court and enclosure were outgazing at the sky. And this is what they saw. Way of light, beginning at a height immeasurably beyond the nearest stars and dropping obliquely to the earth. At his top, a diminishing point, at its base, many furlongs and width, its sides blending softly with the darkness of the night, its core a rosy at electrical splendor. The apparitions seemed to rest on the nearest mountain southeast of the town, making a pale corona along the line of the summit. The con was touched luminously so that those upon the roof saw each other's faces, all filled with wonder. Steadily, through minutes, the ray lingered, and then the wonder changed to awe and fear. The timid trembled, the boldest, spoken whispers. Saw you ever the like? asked one. It seems just over the mountain there. I cannot tell what it is, nor did I ever see anything like it, was the answer. Can it be a star has burst and fallen? Asked another, his tongue faltering? When a star falls, its light goes out. I have it, cried one confidently. The shepherds have seen a lion, and made fires to keep him from the flocks. The man next to the speaker drew a breath of relief, and said, Yes, that is it. The flocks were grazing in the valley over there to-day. A bystander dispelled the comfort. No, no. Though all the wood in all the valleys of Judah were brought together in one pile and fired, the blades would not throw a light so strong and high. After that there was silence on the housetop, broken but once again while the mystery continued. Brethren, exclaimed a Jew of venerable Maine, what we see as the latter our Father Jacob saw in his dream, blessed be the Lord God of our Fathers. End of Chapter 10, Recording by David Lawrence, in Brampton, Ontario, November 14, 2008. A mile and a half, it may be two miles, southeast of Bethlehem, there is a plain separated from the town by an intervening swell of the mountain. Besides being well sheltered from the north winds, the veil was covered with a growth of sycamore, dwarf oak, and pine trees, while in the glens and ravines adjoining there were thickets of olive and mulberry, all at this season of the year invaluable for the support of sheep, goats, and cattle of which the wandering flocks consisted. At the side farthest from the town, close under a bluff, there was an extensive mera, or sheep-caught, ages old. In some long forgotten foray the building had been unroofed and almost demolished. The enclosure attached to it remained intact, however, and that was of more importance to the shepherds who drove their charges thither than the house itself. The stone wall around the lot was high as a man's head, yet not so high but that sometimes a panther or a lion, hungering from the wilderness, leaped boldly in. On the inner side of the wall, and as an additional security against a constant danger, a hedge of the aramnus had been planted, an invention so successful that now a sparrow could hardly penetrate the overtopping branches, armed as they were with great clusters of thorns' hardest spikes. The day of the occurrences which occupied the preceding chapters, a number of shepherds seeking fresh walks for their flocks, led them up to this plain, and from early morning the groves had been made ring with calls, and the blows of axes, the bleeding of sheep and goats, the tinkling of bells, the lowing of cattle, and the barking of dogs. When the sun went down they led the way to the mera, and by nightfall had everything safe in the field. Then they kindled a fire down by the gate, partook of their humble supper, and sat down to rest and talk, leaving one on watch. There were six of these men, omitting the watchman, and after a while they assembled in a group near the fire, some sitting, some lying, prone. As they went bare-headed habitually their hair stood out in thick coarse sunburnt shocks. Their beard covered their throats, and fell in mats down the breast, mantles of the skin of kids and lambs, with the fleece on, wrapped them from neck to knee, leaving the arms exposed, broad belts girthed the rude garments to their waists. Their sandals were of the coarsest quality, from their right shoulders hung scripts containing food and selected stones for slings, with which they were armed. On the ground near each one lay his crook, a symbol of his calling, and a weapon of offense. Such were the shepherds of Judea. In appearance rough and savage as the gaunt-dogs sitting with them around the blaze, in fact simple-minded, tender-hearted, effects due in part to the primitive life they led, but chiefly to their constant care of things lovable and helpless. They rested and talked, and their talk was all about their flocks, a dull theme to the world, yet a theme which was all the world to them. If in narrative they dwelt long upon affairs of trifling moment. If one of them omitted nothing of detail in recounting the loss of a lamb, the relation between him and the unfortunate should be remembered. At birth it became his charge, his to keep all its days, the help over the floods, to carry down the hollows, to name and train it was to be his companion, his object of thought and interest, the subject of his will, it was to enliven and share his wanderings. In its defense he might be called on to face a lion or robber, to die. The great events such as blotted out nations and changed the mastery of the world were trifles to them, if per chance they came to their knowledge. Of what Herod was doing in this city or that, building palaces and gymnasia, and indulging forbidden practices they occasionally heard. As was her habit in those days, Rome did not wait for people slow to inquire about her, she came to them. Over the hills along which he was leading his lagging herd, or in the fastnesses in which he was hiding them, not unfrequently the shepherd was startled by the blare of trumpets and, peering out, beheld a cohort, sometimes a legion, in March, and when the glittering crests were gone and the excitement incident to the intrusion over, he bent himself to evolve the meaning of the eagles and gilded globes of the soldiery, and the charm of a life so the opposite of his own. Yet these men, rude and simple as they were, had a knowledge and a wisdom of their own. On Sabbaths they were accustomed to purify themselves and go up into the synagogues, and sit on the benches farthest from the ark. When the chasin bore the Torah round, none kissed it with greater zest. When the Sheliak read the text, none listened to the interpreter with more absolute faith, and none took away with them more of the elder's sermon, or gave it more thought afterwards. In a verse of the Shema they found all the learning and all the law of their simple lives, that their Lord was one God, and that they must love him with all their souls. And they loved him, and such was their wisdom, surpassing that of kings. While they talked, and before the first watch was over, one by one the shepherds went to sleep, each lying where he had sat. The night, like most nights of the winter season in the hill country, was clear, crisp, and sparkling with stars. There was no wind, the atmosphere seemed never so pure, and the stillness was more than silence. It was a holy hush, a warning that heaven was stooping low to whisper some good thing to the listening earth. By the gate, hugging his mantle close, the watchman walked. As times he stopped, attracted by a stir among the sleeping herds, or by a jackals cry off on the mountainside. The midnight was slow coming to him, but at last it came. His task was done, now for the dreamless sleep with which labor blesses its weary children. He moved towards the fire, but paused. A light was breaking around him, soft and white, like the moons. He waited breathlessly. The light deepened, things before invisible came to view. He saw the whole field, and all it sheltered. A chill sharper than that of the frosty air, a chill of fear smote him. He looked up. The stars were gone. The light was dropping us from a window in the sky. As he looked, it became a splendor. Then, in terror, he cried, Awake, awake! Up sprang the dogs, and howling ran away. The herds rushed together bewildered. The men clambered to their feet, weapons in hand. What is it, they asked, in one voice. See, cried the watchman, The sky is on fire. Suddenly the light became intolerably bright, and they covered their eyes and dropped upon their knees. Then as their souls shrank with fear, they fell upon their faces, blind and fainting, and would have died had not a voice said to them. Fear not! And they listened. Fear not! For behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy which shall be to all people. The voice, in sweetness and soothing more than human, and low and clear, penetrated all their being, and filled them with assurance. They rose upon their knees, and, looking worshipfully, beheld in the center of a great glory the appearance of a man, clad in a robe intensely white. Above its shoulders towered the tops of wings shining and unfolded. A star over its forehead glowed with steady luster, brilliant as Hesperus. Its hands were stretched towards them in blessing, its face was serene and divinely beautiful. They had often heard, and in their simple way, talked of angels, and they doubted not now, but said in their hearts, The glory of God is about us, and this is he who of old came to the prophet by the river of Ulay. Directly the angel continued, For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. Again there was a rest, while the words sank into their minds. And this shall be a sign unto you, the annunciator said next, You shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes lying in a manger. The herald spoke not again, his good tidings were told, yet he stayed awhile. Suddenly the light, of which he seemed to center, turned rosy it, and began to tremble, then up, far as the men could see, there was flashing of white wings, and coming and going of radiant forms, and voices as of a multitude chanting in unison. Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will towards men. Not once the praise, but many times. Then the herald raised his eyes as seeking approval of one far off. Those wings stirred, and spread slowly and majestically, on their upper side, widest snow, in the shadow very tinted, like mother of pearl. When they were expanded many cubits beyond his stature, he arose lightly, and, without effort, floated out of view, taking the light up with him. Long after he was gone, down from the sky fell the refrain in measure mellowed by distance. Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will towards men. When the shepherds came fully to their senses, they stared at each other stupidly, until one of them said, It was Gabriel, the Lord's messenger unto men. None answered. Christ the Lord is born, said he not so. Then another recovered his voice, and replied, That is what he said. And did he not also say, In the city of David, which is our Bethlehem yonder, and that which should find him a babe in swaddling clothes, and lying in a manger? The first speaker gazed into the fire thoughtfully, but at length said, Like one possessed of a sudden resolve, there is but one place in Bethlehem where there are mangers, but one, and that is in the cave near the old con. Brethren, let us go see this thing which has come to pass. The priests and doctors have been a long time looking for the Christ. Now he is born, and the Lord has given us a sign by which to know him. Let us go up and worship him. But the flocks! The Lord will take care of them. Let us make haste. Then they all arose and left the mara. Around the mountain and through the town they passed, and came to the gate of the con, where there was a man on watch. What would you have? He asked. We have seen and heard great things tonight, they replied. Well, we too have seen great things, but heard nothing. What did you hear? Let us go down to the cave in the enclosure that we may be sure. Then we will tell you all. Come with us and see for yourself. It is a fool's errand. No! The Christ is born. The Christ? How do you know? Let us go and see first. The man laughed scornfully. The Christ, indeed. How are you to know him? He was born this night, and is now lying in a manger. So we were told, and there is but one place in Bethlehem with mangers. The cave? Yes. Come with us. They went through the courtyard without notice, although there were some up, even then, talking about the wonderful light. The door of the cavern was open. A lantern was burning within, and they entered unceremoniously. I give you peace, the watchman said to Joseph and the Beth Dagonite. Here are people looking for a child born this night, whom they are to know by finding him in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger. For a moment the face of the stolid Nazarene was moved. Moving away, he said, the child is here. They were led to one of the manger than there the child was. The lantern was brought, and the shepherd stood by mute. The little one made no sign. It was as others just born. Where is the mother? asked the watchman. One of the women took the baby and went to marry, lying near, and put it in her arms. Then the bystanders collected about the two. It is the Christ, said a shepherd at last. It is the Christ, they all repeated, falling upon their knees in worship. One of them repeated several times over. It is the Lord, and His glory is above the earth and heaven. And the simple man, never doubting, kissed the hymn of the mother's robe, and with joyful faces departed. In the con to all the people aroused and pressing about them, they told their story, and threw the town and all the way back to the Mara. They chanted the refrain of the angels. Glory to God in the highest and on earth peace, good will towards men. The story went abroad, confirmed by the light so generally seen, and the next day and for days thereafter the cave was visited by curious crowds, of whom some believed though the greater part laughed and mocked. CHAPTER XII. OF BOOK ONE. OF BEN HER. A TALE OF THE CHRIST. This is a LibriVox recording. While LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by David Lawrence. Ben Her. A Tale of the Christ. Book One. By Lou Wallace. CHAPTER XII. The eleventh day after the birth of the child in the cave, about mid-afternoon, the three wise men approached Jerusalem by the road from Chechem. After crossing Brook-Sedrin they met many people, of whom none failed to stop and look after them curiously. Judah was of necessity an international thoroughfare. A narrow ridge, raised apparently by the pressure of the desert on the east, and the sea on the west, was all she could claim to be. Over the ridge, however, nature had stretched the line of trade between the east and the south, and that was her wealth. In other words, the riches of Jerusalem were the tolls she levied on passing commerce. Nor were else, consequently, unless in Rome, was there such constant assemblage of so many people, of so many different nations. In no other city was a stranger less strange to the residents than within her walls in Peru. And yet these three men excited the wonder of all whom they met on the way to the gates. A child belonging to some women sitting by the roadside opposite the tombs of the kings saw the party coming. Immediately it clapped its hands and cried, Look, look! What pretty bells! What big camels! The bells were silver. The camels, as we have seen, were of unusual size and whiteness, and moved with singular stateliness. The trappings told of the desert, and of long journeys thereon, but also of ample means in possession of the owners, who sat under the little canopies exactly as they appeared at the rendezvous beyond the gibel. Yet it was not the bells or the camels or their furniture or the demeanor of the riders that were so wonderful. It was the question put by the man who rode foremost of the three. The approach to Jerusalem from the north is across a plain which dipped southward, leaving the Damascus gate in a veil or hollow. The road is narrow, but deeply cut by long use, and in places difficult on account of the cobbles left loose and dry by the washing of the rains. On either side, however, they are stretched in the old time, rich fields and handsome olive groves, which must, in luxurious growth, have been beautiful, especially to travelers fresh from the wastes of the desert. In this road the three stopped before the party in front of the tombs. "'Good people,' said Balthazar, stroking his plaited beard and bending from his cot. "'Is not Jerusalem close by?' "'Yes,' answered the woman, in whose arms the child had shrunk. "'If the trees on Yon Swell were a little lower, you could see the towers on the market place.' Balthazar gave the Greek and the Hindu a look, then asked, "'Where is he that is born king of the Jews?' The women gazed at each other without reply. "'Have you not heard of him?' "'No. Well, tell everyone that we have seen his star in the east and are come to worship him.' Thereupon the friends rode on. Of others they asked the same question, with like result. A large company whom they met, going to the grotto of Jeremiah, were so astonished by the inquiry and the appearance of the travelers that they turned about and followed them into the city. So much were the three occupied with the idea of their mission, that they did not care for the view which presently rose before them in the utmost magnificence. For the village first to receive them on Bezedda. For Mizpa and Olivet over on their left. For the wall behind the village, with its forty tall and solid towers, super-added partly for strength, partly to gratify the critical taste of the kingly builder, for the same towered wall bending off to the right, with many an angle and here and there an embattled gate. Up to the three great white piles, Phalassus, Mariam, and Hippicus, for Zion, tallest of the hills, crowned with marble palaces and never so beautiful. For the glittering terraces of the temple on Mariah, admittedly one of the wonders of the earth, for the regal mountains rimming the sacred city round about until it seemed in the hall of a mighty bowl. They came at length to a tower of great height and strength, overlooking the gate which, at that time, answered to the present Damascus gate, and marked the meeting-place of the three roads from Chechem, Jericho, and Gibeon. A Roman guard kept the passageway. By this time the people following the camels formed a train sufficient to draw the idlers hanging about the portal. So that when Balthasar stopped to speak to the sentinel, the three became instantly the center of a close circle eager to hear all that passed. I give you peace, the Egyptians said in a clear voice. The sentinel made no reply. We have come great distances in search of one who is born king of the Jews. Can you tell us where he is? The soldier raised the visor of his helmet and called loudly. From an apartment on the right of the passage an officer appeared. Give way, he cried, to the crowd which now pressed closer in, and as they seemed slow to obey he advanced twirling his javelin vigorously, now right, now left, and so he gained room. What would you, he asked of Balthasar, speaking in the idiom of the city, and Balthasar answered in the same. Where is he that is born king of the Jews? Herod, as the officer confounded, Herod's kingship is from Caesar, not Herod. There is no other king of the Jews, but we have seen the star of him we seek and have come to worship him. The Roman was perplexed. Go farther, he said at last. Go farther, I am not a Jew. Carry the question to the doctors in the temple, or to Hannas, the priest, or better still, to Herod himself, if there be another king of the Jews, he will find him. Thereupon he made way for the strangers, and they passed the gate. But before entering the narrow street Balthasar lingered to say to his friends. We are sufficiently proclaimed. By midnight the whole city will have heard of us and of our mission. Let us to the con now. End of Chapter 12. Chapter 13 of Book 1 of Ben Herr, A Tale of the Christ. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. That evening before sunset some women were washing clothes on the upper step of the flight that led down into the basin of the pool at Siloam. They knelt each before a broad bowl of earthenware. A girl at the foot of the steps kept them in the water, and sang while she filled the jar. The song was cheerful, and no doubt lightened their labour. Occasionally they would sit upon their heels, and look up the slope of Ophel, and round to the summit of what is now the Mount of Offence. Then they would sit upon their heels, and look up the slope of Ophel, and round to the summit of what is now the Mount of Offence. Then faintly glorified by the dying sun. While they plied their hands, rubbing and ringing the clothes in the bowls, two other women came to them, each with an empty jar upon her shoulder. Peace to you, one of the newcomers said. The labourers paused, sat up, rung the water from their hands, and returned the salutation. It is nearly night, time to quit. There is no end to work, was the reply. But there is a time to rest, and to hear what may be passing in her post another. What news have you? Then you have not heard? No. They say the Christ is born, said the newsmonger, plunging into her store. It was curious to see the faces of the labourers brightened with interest. On the other side down came the jars, which in a moment were turned into seats for their owners. The Christ, the listeners cried. So they say, Who? Everybody. It is common talk. Does anybody believe it? This afternoon, three men came across Brook Cedron on the road from Sheecham, the speaker replied, circumstantially intending to smother doubt. Each one of them rode a camel, spotless white, and larger than any ever before seen in Jerusalem. The eyes and mouths of the auditors opened wide. To prove how great and rich the men were, the narrator continued, they sat under awnings of silk. The buckles of their saddles were of gold, as was the fringe of their bridles. The bells were of silver and made real music. Nobody knew them. They looked as if they had come from the ends of the world. Only one of them spoke. And of everybody on the road, even the women and children, he asked this question, Where is he that is born King of the Jews? No one gave them answer. No one understood what they meant. So they passed on, leaving behind them saying, for we have seen his star in the east and are come to worship him. They put the question to the Roman at the gate, and he, no wiser than the simple people on the road, sent them up to Herod. Where are they now? At the con, hundreds have been to look at them already and hundreds more are going. Who are they? Nobody knows. They are said to be Persians, wise men who talk with the stars. Prophets, it may be like Elijah and Jeremiah. What do they mean by King of the Jews? The Christ and that he is just born. One of the women laughed and resumed her work saying, Well, when I see him, I will believe. Another followed her example. And I, well, when I see him raise the dead, I will believe. A third said quietly, he has been a long time promised. It will be enough for me to see him heal one leper. And the party sat talking until the night came and with the help of the frosty air drove them home. Later in the evening about the beginning of the first watch there was an assemblage in the palace on Mount Zion of probably fifty persons who never came together except by order of Herod and then only when he had demanded to know someone or more of the deeper mysteries of the Jewish law and history. It was, in short, a meeting of the teachers of the colleges, of the chief priests, and of the doctors most noted in the city for learning. The leaders of opinion, expounders of the different creeds, princes of the Sadducees, pharisaic debaters, calm, soft-spoken, stoical philosophers of the Essenes socialists. The chamber in which the session was held belonged to one of the interior courtyards of the palace and was quite large and Romanesque. The floor was tessellated with marble blocks. The walls, unbroken by a window, were frescoed in panels of saffron yellow. A divan occupied the center of the apartment, covered with cushions of bright yellow cloth and fashioned in the form of the letter U, the opening towards the doorway, in the arch of the divan, or, as it were, in the bend of the letter. There was an immense bronze tripod, curiously inlaid with gold and silver, over which a chandelier dropped from the ceiling, having seven arms, each holding a lighted lamp. The divan and the lamp were purely Jewish. The company sat on the divan after the style of orientals, in costume singularly uniform except as to color. They were mostly men advanced in years. Immense beards covered their faces. To their large noses were added the effects of large black eyes. Deeply shaded by bold brows, their demeanor was gray, dignified, even patriarchal. In brief their session was that of the Sanhedrin. He who sat before the tripod, however, in the place which may be called the head of the divan, having all the rest of his associates on his right and left, and at the same time before him, evidently president of the meeting, would have instantly absorbed the attention of a spectator. He had been cast in a large mold, but was now shrunken and stooped to ghastliness. His white robe dropped from his shoulders in folds that gave no hint of muscle or anything but an angular skeleton. His hands, half concealed by sleeves of silk, white and crimson striped, were clasped upon his knees. When he spoke, sometimes the first finger of the right hand extended tremulously. He seemed incapable of other gesture, but his head was a splendid dome, a few hairs whiter than fine-drawn silver fringed the base. Over a broad, full-sfeared skull the skin was drawn close and shone in the light with positive brilliance. The temples were deep hollows, from which the forehead beatled like a wrinkled crag. The eyes were wan and dim, the nose was pinched, and all the lower face was muffed in a beard flowing and venerable as errands. Such was Hillel the Babylonian. The line of prophets long extinct in Israel was now succeeded by a line of scholars of whom he was first in learning, a prophet in all but the divine inspiration. At the age of one hundred and six he was still rector of the great college. On the table before him lay out spread a roll or volume of parchment inscribed with Hebrew characters. Behind him in waiting stood a page richly habited. There had been discussion, but at this moment of introduction the company had reached a conclusion. Each one was in an attitude of rest, and the venerable Hillel, without moving, called the page, hissed. The youth advanced respectfully. Go tell the king we are ready to give him answer. The boy hurried away. After a time two officers entered and stopped, one on each side of the door. After them slowly followed a most striking personage. An old man clad in a purple road bordered with scarlet and girt to his waist by a band of gold linked so fine that it was pliable as leather. The latchets of his shoes sparkled with precious stones. A narrow crown wrought in filigree shown outside a taboosh of softest crimson plush which encasing his head fell down the neck and shoulders, leaving the throat and neck exposed. Instead of a seal a dagger dangled from his belt. He walked with a halting step, leaning heavily upon a staff. Not until he reached the opening of the divan did he pause or look up from the floor. Then, as for the first time conscious of the company, and roused by their presence he raised himself and looked haughtily round like one startled and searching for an enemy. So dark, suspicious and threatening was the glance. Such was Herod the Great, a body broken by diseases, a conscious seared with crimes, a mind magnificently capable, a soul fit for brotherhood with the Caesars. Now seven and sixty years old, but guarding his throne with a jealousy never so vigilant, a power never so despotic and a cruelty never so inexorable. There was a general movement on part of the assemblage, a bending forward in a salam by the more aged, a rising up by the more courtierly, followed by low genuflections, hands upon the beard or breast. His observations taken, Herod moved on until at the tripod opposite the venerable Hillel, who met his cold glance with an inclination of the head and slight lifting of the hands. The answer, said the king with imperious simplicity, addressing Hillel and planting his staff before him with both hands. The answer! The eyes of the patriarch glowed mildly and raising his head and looking the inquisitor full in the face he answered. His associates giving him closest attention. With thee, O king, be the peace of God, of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. His manner was that of invocation, changing it, he resumed. Thou hast demanded of us where the Christ should be born. The king bowed, though the evil eyes remained fixed upon the sage's face. That is the question. Then, O king, speaking for myself and all my brethren here, not one dissenting, I say in Bethlehem of Judea. Hillel glanced at the parchment on the tripod and pointing with his tremulous finger continued, in Bethlehem of Judea, for thus it is written by the prophet, and thou Bethlehem, in the land of Judea, art not the least among the princes of Judah, for out of thee shall come a governor that shall rule my people Israel. Herod's face was troubled and his eyes fell upon the parchment while he thought. Those beholding him scarcely breathed. They spoke not, nor did he. At length he turned about and left the chamber. Brethren, said Hillel, we are dismissed. The company then arose and in groups departed. Simeon, said Hillel again, a man quite fifty years old, but in the hearty prime of life answered and came to him. Take up the sacred parchment, my son, roll it tenderly. The order was obeyed. Now lend me thy arm, I will to the litter. The strong man stooped with his withered hands the old one took the offered support and rising moved feebly to the door. So departed the famous rector, and Simeon, his son, who was to be his successor in wisdom, learning, and office. Yet later in the evening the wise men were lying in a loon of the con, awake. The stones which served them as pillows raised their heads so they could look out of the open arch into the depths of the sky. And as they watched the twinkling of the stars they thought of the next manifestation. How would it come? What would it be? They were in Jerusalem at last. They had asked at the gate for him they sought. They had borne witness of his birth. It remained only to find him. And as to that they placed all trust in the spirit. Men listening for the voice of God or waiting a sign from heaven cannot sleep. While they were in this condition a man stepped in under the arch darkening the loon. Awake he said to them I bring you a message which will not be put off. They all sat up. From whom asked the Egyptian? Herod the king. Each one felt his spirit thrill. Are you not the steward of the con? Balthazar asked next. I am. What would the king with us? His messenger is without. Let him answer. Tell him then to abide our coming. You were right oh my brother said the Greek when the steward was gone. The question put to the people on the road and to the guard at the gate has given us quick notoriety. I am impatient let us up quickly. They arose put on their sandals gird their mantles about them and went out. I salute you and give you peace and pray your pardon. But my master the king has sent me to invite you to the palace where he would have speech with you privately. Thus the messenger discharged his duty. A lamp hung in the entrance and by its light they looked at each other and knew the spirit was upon them. Then the Egyptians stepped to the steward and said so as not to be heard by the others. You know where our goods are stored in the court and where our camels are resting while we are gone make all things ready for our departure if it should be needful. Go your way assured trust me the steward replied. The king's will is our will said Balthazar to the messenger we will follow you. The streets of the holy city were narrow then as now but not so rough and foul for the great builder not content with beauty enforced cleanliness and convenience also following their guide the brethren proceeded without a word through the dim starlight made dimmer by walls on both sides sometimes almost lost under bridges connecting the house tops out of a low ground they ascended a hill at last they came to a portal reared across the way in the light of fires blazing before it in two great braziers they caught a glimpse of the structure and also of some guards leaning motionlessly upon their arms they passed into a building unchallenged then by passages and arched halls through courts and under colonnades not always lighted up long flights of stairs passed innumerable cloisters and chambers they were conducted into a tower of great height suddenly the guide halted and pointing to an open door said to them enter the king is there the air of the chamber was heavy with the perfume of sandalwood and all the appointments within were effeminately rich upon the floor covering the central space a tufted rug was spread and upon that a throne was set the visitors had but time however to catch a confused idea of the place of carved and guilt Ottomans and couches of fans and jars and musical instruments of golden candlesticks glittering in their own lights of walls painted in the style of the voluptuous Grecian school one look at which had made a Pharisee hide his head with holy horror Herod sitting upon the throne to receive them clad as when at the conference with the doctors and lawyers claimed all their minds at the edge of the rug to which they advanced uninvited they prostrated themselves the king touched a bell an attendant came in and placed three stools before the throne seat yourselves said the monarch graciously from the north gate he continued when they were at rest I had this afternoon report of the arrival of three strangers curiously mounted and appearing as a from far countries are you the men the Egyptian took the sign from the Greek and the Hindu and answered with the profoundest salam were we other than we are the mighty Herod whose fame is as incense to the whole world would not have sent for us we may not doubt that we are the strangers Herod acknowledged the speech with a wave of the hand who are you when do you come he asked adding significantly let each speak for himself in turn they gave him account referring simply to the cities and lands of their birth and the routes by which they came to Jerusalem somewhat disappointed Herod applied them more directly what was the question you put to the officer at the gate we asked him where is he that is born king of the Jews I see now why the people were so curious you excite me no less is there another king of the Jews the Egyptian did not blanch there is one newly born an expression of pain knit the dark face of the monarch as if his mind were swept by a harrowing recollection not to me not to me he exclaimed possibly the accusing images of his murdered children flitted before him recovering from the emotion whatever it was he asked steadily where is the new king that okay is what we would ask you bring me a wonder a riddle surpassing any of Solomon's the inquisitor said next as you see I am in the time of life when curiosity is as ungovernable as it was in childhood when to trifle with it is cruelty tell me further and I will honor you as kings honor each other give me all you know about the newly born and I will join you in the search for him and when we have found him I will do what you wish I will bring him to Jerusalem and train him in king craft I will use my grace with Caesar for his promotion and glory jealousy shall not come between us so I swear but tell me first how so widely separated by seas and deserts you all came to hear of him I will tell you truly okay speak on said Herod Balthazar raised himself erect and said solemnly there is an almighty God Herod was visibly startled he made us to come hither promising that we should find the redeemer of the world that we should see and worship him and bear witness that he was come and as a sign we were each given to see a star his spirit stayed with us okaying his spirit is with us now an overpowering feeling seized the three the Greek with difficulty restrained an outcry Herod's gaze darted quickly from one to the other he was more suspicious and dissatisfied than before you are mocking me he said if not tell me more what is to follow the coming of the new king the salvation of men from what their wickedness how by the divine agencies faith love and good works then Herod pause and from his look no man could have said with what feeling he continued you are the heralds of the Christ is that all Balthazar bowed low we are your servants okaying the monarch touched a bell and the attendant appeared bring the gifts the master said the attendant went out but in a little while returned and kneeling before the guests he gave to each one an outer robe or mantle of scarlet and blue and a girdle of gold they acknowledged the honors with eastern prostrations a word further said Herod when the ceremony was ended to the officer of the gate but now to me you spoke of seeing a star in the east yes said Balthazar his star the star of the newly born what time did it appear when we were bidden to come hither Herod arose signifying the audience was over stepping from the throne towards them he said with all graciousness if as I believe oh illustrious men you are indeed the heralds of the Christ just born know that I have this night consulted those wisest and things Jewish and they say with one voice he should be born in Bethlehem of Judea I say to you go hither go and search diligently for the young child and when you have found him bring me word again that I may come and worship him to your going there shall be no letter hindrance peace be with you and folding his robe about him he left the chamber directly the guide came and led them back to the street and thence to the con at the portal of which the Greek said impulsively let us to Bethlehem O brethren as the king has advised yes cried the Hindu the spirit burns within me be it so said Balthazar with equal warmth they gave gifts to the steward mounted into their saddles received directions to the Japa gate and departed at their approach the great valves were unbarred and they passed out into the open country taking the road so lately traveled by Joseph and Mary as they came up out of Hinnom on the plane of Refime a light appeared at first widespread and faint their pulses fluttered fast the light intensified rapidly they closed their eyes against its burning brilliance when they dared to look again low the star perfect as any in the heavens but low down and moving slowly before them and they folded their hands and shouted and rejoiced with exceeding great joy God is with us God is with us they repeated in frequent cheer all the way until the star rising out of the valley beyond Mar Elias stood still over a house up on the slope of the hill near the town End of Chapter 13 of Book 1 of Ben Hur A Tale of the Christ Chapter 14 of Book 1 of Ben Hur A Tale of the Christ This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Ben Hur A Tale of the Christ Book 1 Chapter 14 It was now the beginning of the third watch and at Bethlehem the morning was breaking over the mountains in the east but so feebly that it was yet night in the valley the watchman on the roof of the old con shivering in the chilly air was listening for the first distinguishable sounds with which life, awakening, greets the dawn when a light came moving up the hill toward the house he thought it a torch in someone's hand next moment he thought it a meteor the brilliance grew however until it became a star slur afraid he cried out and brought everyone within the walls to the roof the phenomenon in eccentric motion continued to approach the rocks, trees and roadway under its shan as in a glare of lightning directly as brightness became blinding the more timid of the beholders fell upon their knees and prayed with their faces hidden the boldest covering their eyes crouched and now and then snatched glances fearfully after a while the con and everyone thereabout lay under the intolerable radiance such as dared look beheld the star standing still directly over the house in front of the cave where the child had been born in the height of this scene the wise men came up and at the gate dismounted from their camels and shouted for admission when the steward so far mastered his terror as to give them heed he drew the bars and opened to them the camels looked spectral in the unnatural light and besides their outlandishness there were in the faces and manner of these three visitors an eagerness and exaltation which still further excited the keepers fears and fancy he fell back and for a time could not answer the question they put to him is this not Bethlehem of Judea but others came and by their presence gave him assurance no this is but the con the town lies further on is there not here a child newly born the bystanders turned to each other marveling though some of them answered yes yes show us to him said the Greek impatiently show us to him cried Beldasar breaking through his gravity for we have seen his star even that which he beholds over the house and are come to worship him the Hindu clasped his hands exclaiming God indeed lives may cased may cased the saviour is found blessed blessed are we among men the people from the roof came down and followed the strangers as they were taken through the court and out into the enclosure at sight above the star yet above the cave the less condensant as before some turned back afraid the greater part went on as the strangers near the house the orb arose when they were at the door it was high up overhead vanishing when they entered it went out lost to sight and to the witnesses of what then took place came a conviction that there was a divine relation between the star and the strangers which extended also to at least some of the occupants of the cave when the door was open they crowded in the apartment was lighted by a lantern enough to enable the strangers to find the mother and the child awake in her lap is the child thine as Beldazar of Mary and she who had kept all the things in the least affecting the little one and pondered them in her heart held it up in the light saying he is my son and they fell down and worshipped him they saw the child was as other children about its head was neither nimbus nor material crown it slipped open not in speech if it heard their expressions of joy their invocations their prayers it made no sign whatever but babylike looked longer at the flame in the lantern than at them in a little while they arose and returning to the camels brought gifts of gold frankincense and myrrh and laid them before the child abating nothing of their worshipful speeches of which no part is given for the thoughtful know that the pure worship of the pure heart is then what it is now and has always been an inspired song and this was a saviour they had come so far to find yet they worshipped without a doubt why? their faith rested upon the sign sent them by him whom we have since come to know as the father and they were of the kind to whom his promises were so all sufficient that they asked nothing about his ways few there were who had seen the signs and heard the promises and joseph the shepherds and the three yet they all believed the like that is to say in this period of the plan of salvation god was all and the child nothing but look forward oh reader a time will come when the signs will all proceed from the sun happy they who then believe in him let us wait for that period End of Chapter 14 Recording by David Lawrence November 2008 in Brampton, Ontario End of the first book of Ben Hur A Tale of the Christ Book 1 by Lou Wallace