 CHAPTER XIII. Shake Yildirim was a man of too much importance to go about with a small establishment. He had a reputation to keep with his tribe, such as became a prince and patriarch of the greatest following in all the desert east of Syria, with the people of the cities he had another reputation, which was that of one of the richest personages not a king in all the east, and, being rich in fact, in money as well as in servants, camels, horses, and flocks of all kinds, he took pleasure in a certain state, which, besides magnifying his dignity with strangers, contributed to his personal pride and comfort. Wherefore the reader must not be misled by the frequent reference to his tent in the orchard of palms. He had there really a respectable dower, that is to say, he had there three large tents, one for himself, one for visitors, and one for his favorite wife and her women, and six or eight lesser ones, occupied by his servants and such tribal retainers as he had chosen to bring with him as a bodyguard, strong men of approved courage, and skillful with bow, spear, and horses. To be sure his property of whatever kind was in no danger at the orchard, yet as the habits of a man go with him to town not less than the country, and as it is never wise to slip the bands of discipline, the interior of the dower was devoted to his cows, camels, goats, and such property in general as might tempt a lion or a thief. To do him full justice, Ildrem kept well all the customs of his people, abating none, not even the smallest. In consequence his life at the orchard was a continuation of his life in the desert. Nor that alone it was a fair reproduction of the old patriarchal modes, the genuine pastoral life of primitive Israel. According to the morning the caravan arrived at the orchard. Here, plant it here, he said, stopping his horse, and thrusting his spear into the ground, door to the south, the lake before it thus, and these the children of the desert to sit under at the going down of the sun. At the last words he went to a group of three great palm trees, and padded one of them as he would have padded his horse's neck, over the cheek of the child of his love. Who but the shake could have right say to the caravan, Halt, or of the tent, here be it pitched. The spear was rested from the ground, and over the wound it had riven in the sod the base of the first pillar of the tent was planted, marking the center of the front door. Then eight others were planted, in all three rows of pillars, three in a row. Then at call the women and children came and unfolded the canvas from its packing on the camels. Who might do this but the women? Had they not sheared the hair from the brown goats of the flock, and twisted it into thread, and woven the thread into cloth, and stitched the cloth together, making the perfect roof, dark brown in fact, though in the distance black as the tents of Kedar? And finally with what jests and laughter, and pulls all together, the united following of the shake stretched the canvas from pillar to pillar, driving the stakes, and fastening the cords as they went. And when the walls of open reed matting were put in place, the finishing touch to the building after the style of the desert, with what hush of anxiety they waited the good man's judgment. When he walked in and out, looking at the house in connection with the sun, the trees, and the lake, and said, rubbing his hands with might of heartiness, Well done! Make the door now as you well know, and tonight we will sweeten the bread with arach, and the milk with honey, and at every fire there shall be a kid. God with ye! Want of sweet water there shall not be, for the lake is our well. Neither shall the bearers of burden hunger, or the least of the flock, for here is green pasture also. God with you all, my children, go! And shouting the many happy went their ways then to pitch their own habitations. A few remained to arrange the interior for the shake, and of these the men's servants hung a curtain to the central row of pillars, making two apartments, the one on the right sacred to Ildrim himself, the other sacred to his horses, his jewels of Solomon, which they led in, and with kisses and love-taps set at liberty. Against the middle pillar they then erected the arms-rack, and filled it with javelins and spears, and bows, arrows, and shields. Outside of them hanging the master's sword, modeled after the new moon, and the glitter of its blade rivaled the glitter of the jewels bedded in its grip. Upon one end of the rack they hung the housings of the horses, gay some of them as the livery of a king's servant, while on the other end they displayed the great man's wearing apparel, his robes woollen and robes linen, his tunics and trousers, and many-colored kerchiefs for the head. Nor did they give over the work until he pronounced it well. Meantime the women drew out and set up the divan, more indispensable to him than the beard-down flowing over his breast, white as errands. They put a frame together in shape of three sides of a square, the opening to the door, and covered it with cushions and base curtains, and the cushions with a changeable spread strived brown and yellow. At the corners they placed pillows and bolsters, sacked in cloth, blue and crimson. Then around the divan they laid a margin of carpet, and the inner space they carpeted as well, and when the carpet was carried from the opening of the divan to the door of the tent, their work was done. Whereupon they again waited until the master said it was good. Nothing remained then but to bring and fill the jars with water, and hang the skin bottles of arach ready for the hand, to-morrow the laban. Nor might an Arab sea why-ildrum should not be both happy and generous in his tent by the lake of sweet waters, under the palms of the orchard of palms. Such was the tent at the door of which we left Ben-Hur. Servants were already waiting the master's direction. One of them took off his sandals, another unlatched Ben-Hur's Roman shoes. Then the two exchanged their dusty outer-garments for fresh ones of white linen. Enter! In God's name, enter and make thy rest! said the host heartily in the dialect of the marketplace of Jerusalem, forthwith he led the way to the divan. I will sit here! he said next, pointing, and there the stranger. A woman, in the old time she would have been called a handmaid, and dexterously piled the pillows and bolsters as rests for the back, after which they sat upon the side of the divan, while water was brought fresh from the lake, and their feet bathed and dried with napkins. We have a saying in the desert, Ildrum began, gathering his beard and combing it with his slender fingers, that a good appetite is the promise of a long life. Has thou such? By that rule could shake I will live a hundred years. I am a hungry wolf at thy door. Ben-Hur replied, Well thou shalt not be sent away like a wolf. I will give thee the best of the flocks. Ildrum clapped his hands. Seek the stranger in the quest-tent, and say I, Ildrum, send him a prayer that his peace may be as incessant as the flowing of waters. The man in waiting bowed. They also, Ildrum continued, that I have returned with another for breaking of bread, and, if Balthasar the wise careth to share the loaf, three may partake of it, and the portion of the birds be none the less. The second servant went away. Let us take our rest now. Thereupon Ildrum settled himself upon the divan, as at this day merchants sit on their rugs in the bazaars of Damascus, and when fairly at rest he stopped combing his beard and said gravely, Thou art my guest, and hast drunk my laban, and art about to taste my salt. Aught not to forbid a question. Who art thou? Shake Ildrum, said Ben-Hur, calmly enduring his gaze. I pray thee not to think me trifling with thy just demand, but was there never a time in thy life when to answer such a question would have been a crime to thyself? By the splendor of Solomon, yes! Ildrum answered. Petrail of self is at times as base as the betrayal of a tribe. Thanks. Thanks, good shake! Ben-Hur exclaimed. Never answer became thee better. Now I know thou dost but seek assurance to justify the trust I have come to ask, and that such assurances have more interest to thee than the affairs of my poor life. The shake in his turn bowed, and Ben-Hur hastened to pursue his advantage. So it pleased thee, then, he said, First I am not a Roman, as the name Giveth thee as mine implyeth. Ildrum clasped the beard overflowing his breast, and gazed at the speaker with eyes faintly twinkling through the shade of the heavy, close-drawn brows. In the next place Ben-Hur continued, I am an Israelite of the tribe of Judah. The shake raised his brows a little. Nor that merely. Shake, I am a Jew with a grievance against Rome, compared with which thine is not more than a child's trouble. The old man combed his beard with nervous haste, and let fall his brows until even the twinkle of the eyes went out. Still further, I swear to thee, shake Ildrum, I swear by the covenant the Lord made with my fathers, so that but give me the revenge I seek, the money and the glory of the race shall be thine. Ildrum's brows relaxed, his head arose, his face began to beam, and it was almost possible to see the satisfaction taking possession of him. Enough! he said. If at the roots of thy tongue there is a lie in coil, Solomon himself had not been safe against thee. That thou art not a Roman, that as a Jew thou hast a grievance against Rome, and revenge to compass, I believe. And on that score enough. But as to thy skill, what experience has thou in racing with chariots? And the horses, canst thou make them creatures of thy will? To know thee? To come at call? To go, if thou sayest it, to the last extreme of breath and strength? And then in the perishing moment, out of the depths of thy life, thrill them to one exertion the mightiest of all? The gift, my son, is not to everyone? Ah, by the splendor of God, I knew a king who covered millions of men, their perfect master, but could not win the respect of a horse. Mark, I speak not of the dull brutes whose rounded is to slave for slaves, the debased in blood and image, the dead in spirit, but of such as mine here, the kings of their kind, of a lineage, reaching back to the brutes of the first pharaoh. My comrades and friends, dwellers and tents, whom long association with me has brought up to my plain. Who to their instincts have added our wits and to their senses joined our souls, until they feel all we know of ambition, love, hate, and contempt, in war, heroes, in trust, faithful as women. Who there? A servant came forward. Let my Arabs come. The man drew aside part of the division curtain of the tent, exposing to view a group of horses who lingered a moment where they were as if to make certain of the invitation. Come, Ildrem said to them, why stand ye there? What have I that is not yours? Come, I say." They stalked slowly in. Son of Israel, the master said, thy Moses was a mighty man, but I must laugh when I think of his allowing thy fathers the plotting ox and the dull, slow-natured ass and forbidding them property and horses. Thinkest thou he would have done so had he seen that one, and that, and this. At the word he laid his hand upon the face of the first to reach him and patted it with infinite pride and tenderness. "'It is a misjudgment, Shaikh, a misjudgment,' Ben Hurr said warmly. Moses was a warrior as well as a law-giver beloved by God, and to follow war? Ah, what is it but to love all its creatures, these among the rest?' A head of exquisite turn, with large eyes, soft as a deer's, and half hidden by the dense forelock, and small ears, sharp pointed and sloped well forward, approached then quite to his breast the nostrils open and the upper lip in motion. "'Who are you?' it asked, plainly as ever, man spoke. Ben Hurr recognized one of the four racers he had seen on the course and gave his open hand to the beautiful brute. "'They will tell you, the blasphemers, may their days shorten as they grow fewer,' the Shaikh spoke with a feeling of a man repelling a personal defamation. "'They will tell you, I say, that our horses of the best blood are derived from the Nisei and Pastures of Persia. God gave the first Arab a measurless waste of sand, with some treeless mountains, and here and there a well of bitter waters, and said to him, Behold thy country! And when the poor man complained, the mighty one pitied him, and said again, Be of cheer, for I will twice bless thee above other men. The Arab hurred and gave thanks, and with faith set out to find the blessings. He traveled all the boundaries first and failed. Then he made a path into the desert, and went on and on. And in the heart of the waste there was an island of green very beautiful to see. And in the heart of the island, low, a herd of camels, and another of horses. He took them joyfully and kept them with care for what they were, best gifts of God. And from that green isle went forth all the horses of the earth, even to the Pastures of Niseia they went, and northward to the dreadful veils perpetually threshed by blasts from the sea of chill winds. Doubt not the story, or if thou dost may never amulet have charm for an Arab again. Nay, I won't give thee proof! He clapped his hands. Bring me the records of the tribe. He said to the servant who responded. While waiting the shake played with the horses, patting their cheeks, combing their forelocks with his fingers, giving each one a token of remembrance. Presently six men appeared with chests of cedar reinforced by bands of brass, and hinged and bolded with brass. Nay, said Ildrum when they were all set down by the Divan. I meant not all of them, only the records of the horses. That one. Open it and take back the others. The chest was opened, disclosing a mass of ivory tablets strung on rings of silver wire. And as the tablets were scarcely thicker than wafers, each ring held several hundreds of them. I know, said Ildrum, taking some of the rings in his hand. I know with what care and zeal my son, the scribes of the temple in the holy city, keep the names of the newly born, that every son of Israel may trace his line of ancestry to its beginning, though it aditate the patriarchs. My fathers, may the recollection of them be green forever, did not think it sinful to borrow the idea and apply it to their dumb servants. See these tablets. Ben Hur took the rings, and separating the tablets, saw they bore rude hieroglyphs in Arabic, burned on the smooth surface by a sharp point of heated metal. Can't thou read them, O son of Israel? No, thou must tell me their meaning. No, thou then, each tablet records the name of a foal of the pure blood, born to my fathers through the hundreds of years past, and also the names of Sire and Dam. Take them, and note their age, that thou mayest them more readily believe. Some of the tablets were nearly worn away, all were yellow with age. In the chest there, I can tell thee now, I have the perfect history, perfect because certified as history seldom is, showing of what stock all these are sprung. This one, and that now supplicating thy notice and caress, and as they come to us here, their sires, even the furthest removed in time, came to my sires, under a tent-roof like this of mine, to eat their measure of barley from the open hand, and be talked to as children, and as children kiss the thanks they have not speech to express. And now, O son of Israel, thou mayest believe my declaration. If I am a lord of the desert, behold my ministers, take them from me, and I become as a sick man left by the caravan to die. Thanks to them age hath not diminished the terror of me on the highways between cities, and it will not while I have strength to go with them. I could tell thee marvels done by their ancestors. In a favoring time I may do so, for the present, enough that they were never overtaken in retreat, nor by the sort of Solomon did they ever fail in pursuit. That mark you on the sands and under saddle, but now I do not know. I am afraid, for they are under yoke the first time, and the conditions of success are so many. They have the pride and the speed and the endurance. If I find them a master, they will win. Son of Israel, so thou art the man. I swear it shall be a happy day that brought thee hither. Of thyself, now speak. I know now, said Ben Hur, why it is that in the love of an Arab his horse is next to his children, and I know also why the Arab horses are the best in the world. But, good shake, I would not have you judge me by words alone, for, as you know, all promises of men sometimes fail. Give me the trial first on some plain hereabout, and put the four in my hand to-morrow. Solomon's face beamed again, and he would have spoken. A moment, good shake, a moment, said Ben Hur. Let me say further. From the masters in Rome I learned many lessons, little thinking they would serve me in a time like this. I tell thee, these thy sons of the desert, though they have separately the speed of eagles and the endurance of lions, will fail if they are not trained to run together under the yoke. For, bethink thee, shake, in every four there is one the slowest and one the swiftest, and while the race is always to the slowest, the trouble is always with the swiftest. It was so to-day. The driver could not reduce the best to harmonious action with the poorest. My trial may have no better result, but if so I will tell thee of it, that I swear. For in the same spirit I say, can I get them to run together, move by my will, the four as one, thou shalt have the sisterty eye and the crown, and I, my revenge. What sayest thou? Ilderum listened, combing his beard the while. At the end he said, with a laugh, Ah, I think better of thee, son of Israel. We have a saying in the desert, if ye will cook the meal with words, I will promise an ocean of butter. Thou shalt have the horses in the morning. At that moment there was a stir at the rear entrance to the tent. The supper it is here, and yonder my friend Balthazar, whom thou shalt know, he hath a story to tell which an Israelite should never tire of hearing. And to the servants he added, take the records away, and return my jewels to their apartment. If the reader will return now to the repast of the wise men at their meeting in the desert, he will understand the preparations for the supper in Ilderum's tent. The differences were chiefly such as were incident to ampler means and better service. Three rugs were spread on the carpet within the space so nearly enclosed by the divan. A table not more than a foot in height was brought and set within the same place and covered with a cloth. Off to one side a portable earthenware oven was established under the presidency of a woman whose duty it was to keep the company in bread, or more precisely, in hot cakes of flour from the handmills grinding with constant sound in a neighboring tent. Meanwhile Balthazar was conducted to the divan, where Ilderum and Benher received him standing. A loose black gown covered his person, his step was feeble, and his whole movement slow and cautious, apparently depended upon a long staff and the arm of a servant. "'Peace to you, my friend,' said Ilderum respectfully. "'Peace and welcome,' the Egyptian raised his head and replied, "'And to thee, good shake! To thee and thine! Peace and the blessing of the one God! God, the true and loving!' The manner was gentle and devout, and impressed Benher with a feeling of awe, besides which the blessing included in the answering salutation had been partly addressed to him. And while that part was being spoken, the eyes of the aged guest, hallow yet luminous, rested upon his face long enough to stir an emotion, new and mysterious, and so strong that he again and again, during the repast, scanned the much wrinkled and bloodless face for its meaning. But always there was the expression bland, placid, and trustful as a child's. A little later he found that expression habitual. "'This is he, O Balthazar,' said the shake, laying his hand on Benher's arm. "'Who would break bread with us this evening?' The Egyptian glanced at the young man, and looked again surprised and doubting, seeing which the shake continued, "'I have promised him my horses for trial to-morrow, and if all goes well, he will drive them in the circus.' Balthazar continued his gaze. "'He came well recommended,' Ildrem pursued, much puzzled. "'You may know him as the son of Arius, who was a noble Roman sailor, though,' the shake hesitated, then resumed with a laugh. Though he declares himself an Israelite of the tribe of Judah, and by the splendor of God I believe that he tells me,' Balthazar could no longer withhold explanation. "'Today, O most generous shake, my life was in peril, and would have been lost had not a youth the counterpart of this one. If indeed he be not the very same, intervened when all others fled, and saved me.' Then he addressed Benher directly. "'Are thou not he?' "'I cannot answer so far,' Benher replied, with modest deference. "'I am he who stopped the horses of the insolent Roman when they were rushing upon thy camel at the fountain of Castelia. Thy daughter left a cup with me. From the bosom of his tunic he produced the cup, and gave it to Balthazar. A glow lighted the faded countenance of the Egyptian. "'The Lord sent thee to me at the fountain to-day,' he said, in a tremulous voice, stretching his hand towards Benher. And he sends thee to me now. I give him thanks, and praise him thou, for of his favor I have wherewith to give thee great reward, and I will. The cup is thine. Keep it!' Benher took back the gift, and Balthazar, seeing the inquiry upon Ildrum's face, related the occurrence at the fountain. "'What?' said the shake to Benher. "'Thou said'st nothing of this to me, when better recommendation thou couldst not have brought. Am I not an Arab, and shake of my tribe of tens of thousands? And is not he my guest? And is it not in my guest-bond that the good or evil thou dost him is good or evil done to me? Wither shouldst thou go for reward but here. And who's the hand to give it but mine?' His voice at the end of the speech rose to cutting shrillness. "'Good shake, spare me, I pray. I came not for reward, great or small, and that I may be acquitted of the thought. I say the help I gave this excellent man would have been given as well to thy humblest servant. But he is my friend, my guest, not my servant. And seeest thou not in the difference the favour of fortune?' Then to Balthazar the shake subjoined. "'Ah, by the splendor of God! I tell thee again he is not a Roman!' With that he turned away, and gave attention to the servants, whose preparations for the supper were about complete. The reader who recollects the history of Balthazar is given by himself at the meeting in the desert will understand the effect of Ben-Hur's assertion of disinterestedness upon that worthy. In his devotion to men there had been, it will be remembered, no distinctions, while the redemption which had been promised him in the way of reward, the redemption for which he was waiting, was universal. To him therefore the assertion sounded somewhat like an echo of himself. He took a step nearer Ben-Hur and spoke to him in the childlike way. "'How did the shake say I should call you? It was a Roman name, I think.' Arius the son of Arius. Yet thou art not a Roman. All my people were Jews. "'Were, sayest thou, are they not living?' The question was subtle as well as simple, but Ilderum saved Ben-Hur from reply. "'Come,' he said to them, the meal is ready.' Ben-Hur gave his arm to Balthazar and conducted him to the table where shortly they were all seated on their rugs Eastern fashion. The lavers were brought them, and they washed and dried their hands. Then the shake made a sign, the servants stopped, and the voice of the Egyptian arose tremulous with holy feeling. "'Father of all, God, what we have is of thee. Take our thanks and bless us, that we may continue to do thy will.' It was the grace the good man had said simultaneously with his brethren, Gaspar the Greek and Melchior the Hindu, the utterance in diverse tongues out of which had come the miracle attesting the divine presence at the meal in the desert years before. The table to which they immediately addressed themselves was, as may be thought, rich in the substantial and delicacies favorite in the East, in cakes hot from the oven, vegetables from the gardens, meats singly, compounds of meats and vegetables, milk of kind and honey and butter, all eaten or drunk it should be remarked without any of the modern accessories, knives, forks, spoons, cups or plates, and in this part of the ripass but little was said, for they were hungry. But when the dessert was in course it was otherwise. They loved, their hands again, had the lapcloths shaken out, and with the renewed table and the sharp edge of their appetites gone they were disposed to talk and listen. With such a company, an Arab, a Jew, and an Egyptian, all believers alike in one God, there could be at that age but one subject of conversation, and of the three which should be speaker but he to whom the deity had been so nearly a personal appearance, who had seen him in a star, had heard his voice in direction, had been led so far and so miraculously by his spirit, and of what should he talk but that of which he had been called to testify. CHAPTER XV The shadows cast over the orchard of palms by the mountains at set of sun, left no sweet margin time of violet sky and drowsing earth between the day and night. The latter came early and swift, and against its glooming in the tent this evening the servants brought four candlesticks of brass and set them by the corners of the table. To each candlestick there were four branches, on each branch a lighted silvered lamp and a supply cup of olive oil. In light ample, even brilliant, the group at dessert continued their conversation speaking in the Syriac dialect, familiar to all peoples in that part of the world. The Egyptian told his story of the meeting of the three in the desert, and agreed with a shake that it was in December, twenty-seven years before, when he and his companions fleeing from Herod arrived at the tent praying shelter. The narrative was heard with intense interest, even the servants lingering when they could to catch its details. Benher received it as became a man listening to a revelation of deep concern to all humanity, and to none of more concern than the people of Israel. In his mind, as we shall presently see, there was crystallizing an idea which was to change his course of life, if not absorb it absolutely. As the recital proceeded, the impression made that Balthazar upon the young Jew increased. At its conclusion his feeling was too profound to permit a doubt of its truth. Indeed there was nothing left him desirable in the connection but assurances, if such were to be had, pertaining exclusively to the consequences of the amazing event. Now now there is wanting an explanation which the very discerning may have heretofore demanded. Certainly it can be no longer delayed. Our tale begins, in point of date, not less than fact, to trench close upon the opening of the Ministry of the Son of Mary, whom we have seen but once since the same Balthazar left him worshipfully in his mother's lap in the cave by Bethlehem. Henceforth to the end the mysterious child will be a subject of continual reference, and slowly though surely the current of events with which we are dealing will bring us nearer and nearer to him, until finally we see him a man. We would like, if armed contrarity of opinion would permit it, to add, a man whom the world could not do without. Of this declaration, apparently so simple, a shrewd mind inspired by faith will make much, and in welcome. Before his time, and since, there have been men indispensable to particular people and periods, but his indispensability was to the whole race, and for all time, a respect in which it is unique, solitary, divine. To shake Ilderum the story was not new. He had heard it from the three wise men together, under circumstances which left no room for doubt. He had acted upon it seriously, for the helping a future to escape from the anger of the First Herod was dangerous. Now one of the three sat at his table again, a welcome guest and revered friend. Ilderum certainly believed this story. Yet in the nature of things, its mighty central fact could not come home to him with the force and absorbing effect it came to Ben Hur. He was an Arab, whose interest in the consequences was but general. On the other hand, Ben Hur was an Israelite and a Jew, with more than a special interest in, if the solosism can be pardoned, the truth of the fact. He laid hold of the circumstance with a purely Jewish mind. From his cradle let it be remembered. He had heard of the Messiah. At the colleges he had been made familiar with all that was known of that being, at once the hope, the fear, and the peculiar glory of the chosen people. The prophets from the first to the last of the heroic line foretold him, and the coming had been, and yet was, the theme of endless exposition with the rabbis, in the synagogues, in the schools, in the temple, of fast days and feast days, in public and in private, the national teachers expounded and kept expounding until all the children of Abraham, wherever their lots were cast, bore the Messiah in expectation, and by it literally, and with iron severity, ruled and molded their lives. Doubtless it will be understood from this that there was much argument among the Jews themselves about the Messiah, and so there was. But the disputation was all limited to one point and one only. When would he come? Disquisition is for the preacher, whereas the writer is but telling a tale, and that he may not lose his character, the explanation he is making requires notice merely of a point connected with the Messiah, about which the unanimity among the chosen people was matter of marvellous astonishment. He was to be, when come, the king of the Jews, their political king, their Caesar. By their instrumentality he was to make armed conquest of the earth, and then, for their prophet, and in the name of God, hold it down forever. On this faith, dear reader, the Pharisees, or separatists, the latter being rather a political term, in the cloisters and around the altars of the temple, built an edifice of hope far overtopping the dream of the Macedonian. His but covered the earth, theirs covered the earth and filled the skies. That is to say, in their bold, boundless fantasy of blasphemous egotism, God the Almighty was in effect to suffer them for their uses, to nail him by the ear to adore in sign of eternal servitude. According directly to Ben Herr, it is to be observed now that there were two circumstances in his life, the result of which had been to keep him in a state comparatively free from the influence and heart effects of the audacious faith of his separatist countrymen. In the first place, his father followed the faith of the Sadducees, who may, in a general way, be termed the liberals of their time. They had some loose opinions in denial of the soul. They were strict constructionists and rigorous observers of the law, as found in the books of Moses. But they held the vast mass of rabbinical agenda to those books in derisive contempt. They were unquestionably a sect, yet their religion was more a philosophy than a creed. They did not deny themselves the enjoyments of life, and saw many admirable methods and productions among the Gentile divisions of the race. In politics they were the active opposition of the separatists. In the natural order of things, these circumstances and conditions, opinions and peculiarities would have descended to the Son as, certainly and really as any portion of his father's estate, and as we have seen, he was actually in course of acquiring them when the second saving event overtook him. Upon a youth of Ben Herr's mind and temperament, the influence of the five years of affluent life in Rome can be appreciated best by recalling that the great city was then, in fact, the meeting-place of the nations, their meeting-place politically and commercially, as well as for the indulgence of pleasure without restraint. Round and round the golden milestone in front of the forum, now in gloom of eclipse, now an unapproachable splendor, flowed all the active currents of humanity. If excellences of manner, refinements of society, attainments of intellect, and glory of achievement made no impression upon him, how could he, as the son of Arius, past day after day, through a period so long, from the beautiful villa near Mycenum into the receptions of Caesar, and be wholly uninfluenced by what he saw there of kings, princes, ambassadors, hostages, and delegates, suitors all of them from every known land, waiting humbly the yes or no, which was to make or un-make them. As mere assemblages, to be sure, there was nothing to compare with the gatherings at Jerusalem, in celebration of the Passover, yet when he sat under the purple velaria of the Circus Maximus, one of three hundred and fifty thousand spectators, he must have been visited by the thought that, possibly, there might be some branches of the family of men worth divine consideration, if not mercy, though they were of the uncircumcised, some by their sorrows, and yet worse by their hopelessness in the midst of sorrows, fitted for brotherhood in the promises to his countrymen. That he should have had such a thought under such circumstances was but natural. We think so much at least will be admitted. But when the reflection came to him and he gave himself up to it, he could not have been blind to a certain distinction. The wretchedness of the masses, and their hopeless condition, had no relation whatever to religion. Their murmurs and groans were not against their gods or for want of gods. In the oak woods of Britain the druids held their followers. Odin and Freya maintained their godships in Gaul, in Germany, and among the hyperborians. Egypt was satisfied with their crocodiles and Anubis. The Persians were yet devoted to Ormuts and Araman, holding them in equal honour. In hope of the nirvana, the Hindus moved on patient as ever in the railess paths of Brahm. The beautiful Greek mind, in pauses of philosophy, still sang the heroic gods of Homer, while in Rome nothing was so common and cheap as gods. According to Wim, the masters of the world, as they were masters, carried their worship and offerings indifferently from altar to altar, delighted in the pandemonium they had erected. Their discontent, if they were discontented, was with the number of gods. For, after borrowing all the divinities of the earth, they proceeded to deify their caesars, and vote them altars and holy service. No. The unhappy condition was not from religion, but misgovernment and usurpations and countless tyrannies. The Avernus men had been tumbled into, and were praying to be relieved from, was terribly but essentially political. The supplication, everywhere alike, in Lodinum, Alexandria, Athens, Jerusalem, was for a king to conquer with, not a god to worship. Studying the situation after two thousand years, we can see and say that religiously there was no relief from the universal confusion, except some god who could prove himself a true god, and a masterful one, and come to the rescue. But the people of the time, even the discerning and philosophical, discovered no hope except in crushing Rome. That done, the relief would follow in restorations and reorganizations. Therefore they prayed, conspired, rebelled, fought and died, drenching the soil to-day with blood, to-morrow with tears, and always with the same result. It remains to be seen now that Ben-Hur was in agreement with the massive man of his time, not Romans. The five years residence in the capital served him with opportunity to see and study the miseries of the subjugated world, and in full belief that the evils which afflicted it were political, and to be cured only by the sword, he was going forth to fit himself for a part in the day of resort to the heroic remedy. By practice of arms he was a perfect soldier, but war has its higher fields, and he who had moved successfully in them must know more than to defend with shield and thrust with spear. In those fields the general finds his tasks, the greatest of which is the reduction of the many into one, and that one himself. The consummate captain is a fighting man armed with an army. This conception entered into the scheme of life to which he was further swayed by the reflection that the vengeance he dreamed of, in connection with his individual wrongs, would be more surely found in some of the ways of war than in any pursuit of peace. The feelings with which he listened to Balthazar can be now understood. The story touched two of the most sensitive points of his being so they rang within him. His heart beat fast, and faster still when, searching himself, he found not a doubt either that the recital was true in every particular, or that the child so miraculously found was the Messiah. Marvelling much that Israel rested so dead to the revelation, and that he had never heard of it before that day, two questions presented themselves to him as centering all it was at that moment further desirable to know. Where was the child then? And what was his mission? With apologies for the interruptions he proceeded to draw out the opinions of Balthazar, who was in no wise loath to speak. CHAPTER XVI If I could answer you, Balthazar said in his simple, earnest, devout way, Oh, if I knew where he is, how quickly I would go to him! The seas should not stay me, nor the mountains! You have tried to find him, then? asked Benher. A smile flitted across the face of the Egyptian. The first task I charged myself with after leaving the shelter giving me in the desert, Balthazar cast a grateful look at Ilderum, was to learn what became of the child. But a year had passed, and I dared not go up to Judea in person, for Herod still held the throne, bloody-minded as ever. In Egypt, upon my return, there was a few friends to believe the wonderful things I told them of what I had seen and heard. A few who rejoiced with me that a redeemer was born. A few who never tired of the story. Some of them came up for me looking after the child. They went first to Bethlehem, and found there the con and the cave. But the steward, he who sat at the gate the night of the birth, and the night we came following the star, was gone. The king had taken him away, and he was no more seen. But they found some proofs, surely, said Ben Hur, eagerly. Yes, proofs written in blood, a village in mourning, mothers yet crying for their little ones. You must know, when Herod heard of our flight, he sent down and slew the youngest born of the children of Bethlehem. Not one escaped. The faith of my messengers was confirmed. But they came to me saying the child was dead, slain with the other innocence. Dead, exclaimed Ben Hur, aghast. Dead sayest thou. Nay, my son, I did not say so. I said they, my messengers told me the child was dead. I did not believe the report then. I do not believe it now. I see. Thou hast some special knowledge. Not so, not so, said Balthazar, dropping his gaze. The spirit was to go with us no farther than to the child. When we came out of the cave, after our presents were given, and we had seen the babe, we looked first thing for the star. But it was gone, and we knew we were left to ourselves. The last inspiration of the Holy One, the last I can recall, was that which sent us to illder him for safety. Yes, said the shake fingering his beard nervously. You told me you were sent to me by a spirit. I remember it. I have no special knowledge. Balthazar continued, observing the dejection which had fallen upon Ben Hur. But, my son, I have given the matter much thought. Thought continuing through years, inspired by faith, which I assure you, calling God for witness, is as strong in me now as in the hour I heard the voice of the spirit calling me by the shore of the lake. If you will listen, I will tell you why I believe the child is living. Both illder him and Ben Hur looked ascent, and appeared to summon their faculty so that they might understand as well as here. The interest reached the servants who drew near to the divan and stood listening. Throughout the tent there was the profoundest silence. We three believing God. Balthazar bowed his head as he spoke. And he is the truth, he resumed. His word is God. The hills may turn to dust, and the seas be drunk dry by south winds. But his word shall stand, because it is the truth. The utterance was in a manner inexpressibly solemn. The voice which was his, speaking to me by the lake, said, Blessed art thou, O son of Mizrayim, the redemption cometh, with two others from the remotenesses of the earth, thou shalt see the Saviour. I have seen the Saviour, blessed be his name. But the redemption, which was the second part of the promise, is yet to come. Seeest thou now? If the child be dead there is no agent to bring the redemption about, and the word is not. And God, nay, I dare not say it. He threw up both hands in horror. The redemption was the work for which the child was born, and so long as the promise abides, not even death can separate him from his work until it is fulfilled, or at least in the way of fulfillment. Take you that now as one reason for my belief. Then give me further attention. The good man paused. Will thou not taste the wine? It is at thy hand. See? said Ilderum respectfully. Balthazar drank, and seeming refreshed continued. The Saviour I saw was born of woman, in nature like us, in subject to all our ills, even death. Let that stand as the first proposition. Consider next the work set apart to him. Was it not a performance for which only a man is fitted, a man wise, firm, discreet, a man not a child? To become such he had to grow as we grow. Be think you now of the dangers his life was subject to in the interval, the long interval between childhood and maturity. The existing powers were his enemies, Herod was his enemy, and what would Rome have been? And as for Israel, that he should not be accepted by Israel was the motive for cutting him off. See you now. What better way was there to take care of his life in the helpless growing time than by passing him into obscurity? Wherefore I say to myself, and to my listening faith, which is never moved except by yearning of love, I say he is not dead, but lost, and his work remaining undone he will come again. There you have the reasons for my belief. Are they not good? Ildrum's small Arab eyes were bright with understanding, and Ben Hur lifted from his dejection, said heartily, I at least may not gain say them. What further pray? Has thou not enough, my son? Well, he began in calmer tone, seeing that their reasons were good, more plainly seeing it was God's will that the child should not be found. I settled my faith into the keeping of patience, and took to waiting. He raised his eyes full of holy trust, and broke off abstractedly. I am waiting now. He lives, keeping well his mighty secret. What though I cannot go to him, or name the hill, or the veil of his abiding place? He lives. It may be as the fruit in blossom, it may be as the fruit just ripening, but by the certainty there is in the promise and reason of God, I know he lives. A thrill of awe struck Ben Hur, a thrill which was but the dying of his half-formed doubt. Where thinkest thou he is? He asked in a low voice, and hesitating, like one who feels upon his lips the pressure of a sacred silence. Balthazar looked at him kindly, and replied, his mind not entirely freed from its abstraction. In my house on the Nile, so close to the river that the passers-by in boats see it and its reflection in the water at the same time, in my house, a few weeks ago, I sat thinking. A man thirty years old, I said to myself, should have his fields of life all ploughed, and his planting well done, for after that it is summer time, with spate scarce enough to ripen his sowing. The child, I said further, is now twenty-seven. His time to plant must be at hand. I asked myself, as you here ask me, my son, and answered by coming hither, as to a good resting place close by the land thy fathers had from God. Where else should he appear, if not in Judea? In what city should he begin his work, if not in Jerusalem? Who should be first to receive the blessings he is to bring, if not the children of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob? In love at least, the children of the Lord. If I were bid and go seek him, I would search well the hamlets and villages on the slopes of the mountains of Judea and Galilee falling eastwardly into the valley of the Jordan. He is there now. Standing in a door, or on a hilltop, only this evening he saw the sun set, one day nearer the time when he himself shall become the light of the world. Balthasar ceased, with his hand raised and finger pointing as if at Judea. All the listeners, even the dull servants outside the Divan, affected by his fervor, were startled as if by a majestic presence suddenly apparent within the tent. Nor did the sensation die away at once. Of those at the table, each sat a while thinking. The spell was finally broken by Ben Hur. I see, good Balthasar, he said, that thou hast been much and strangely favoured. I see also that thou art a wise man indeed. It is not in my power to tell how grateful I am for the things thou hast told me. I am warned of the coming of great events, and borrow somewhat from thy faith. Complete the obligation I pray thee by telling further of the mission of him for whom thou art waiting, and for whom from this night I too shall wait as becomes a believing son of Judea. He is to be a saviour, thou setsed. Is he not to be king of the Jews also? My son, said Balthasar, in his begnignant way, the mission is yet a purpose in the bosom of God. All I think about it is wrung from the words of the voice in connection with the prayer to which they were in answer. Shall we refer to them again? Thou art the teacher. The cause of my disquiet, Balthasar began calmly, that which made me a preacher in Alexandria and in the villages of the Nile, that which drove me at last into the solitude where the Spirit found me, was the falling condition of men, occasioned as I believed by loss of the knowledge of God. I sorrowed for the sorrows of my kind, not of one class, but all of them. So utterly were they fallen it seemed to me there could be no redemption unless God himself would make it his work, and I prayed him to come, and that I might see him. Thy good works have conquered the redemption cometh. Thou shalt see the Saviour. Thus the voice spake, and with the answer I went up to Jerusalem rejoicing. Now, to whom is the redemption? To all the world. And how shall it be? Strengthen thy faith, my son. Men say I know that there will be no happiness until Rome is raised from her hills. That is to say, the ills of the time are not, as I thought them, from ignorance of God, but from the misgovernment of rulers. Do we need to be told that human governments are never for the sake of religion? How many kings have you heard of who were better than their subjects? Oh no! No! The redemption cannot be for a political purpose, to pull down rulers and powers, and vacate their places merely that others may take and enjoy them. If that were all of it, the wisdom of God would cease to be surpassing. I tell you, though it be but the saying of blind to blind, he that comes is to be a Saviour of souls, and the redemption means God once more on earth and righteous, that his stay here may be tolerable to himself. Disappointment showed plainly on Ben Hur's face, his head drooped, and if he was not convinced, he yet felt himself incapable that moment of disputing the opinion of the Egyptian. Not so ill to him. By the splendor of God! he cried impulsively. The judgment does away with all custom. The ways of the world are fixed, and cannot be changed. There must be a leader in every community clothed with power, else there is no reform. Balthasar received the burst gravely. Thy wisdom, good shake, is of the world, and thou dost forget that it is from the ways of the world we are to be redeemed. Man as a subject is the ambition of a king. The soul of a man for its salvation is the desire of a God. Ildrum, though silenced, shook his head unwilling to believe. Ben Hur took up the argument for him. Father, I call thee such by permission, he said, for whom were thou required to ask at the gates of Jerusalem? The shake threw him a grateful look. I was to ask of the people, said Balthasar quietly. Where is he that is born king of the Jews? And you saw him in the cave by Bethlehem? We saw and worshipped him, and gave him presents, Melchior Gold, Gaspard, Frankincense, in I, Mur. When thou dost speak of fact, O Father, to hear thee is to believe, said Ben Hur. But in the matter of opinion I cannot understand the kind of king thou wouldst make of the child. I cannot separate the ruler from his powers and duties. Son, said Balthasar, we have the habit of studying closely the things which chance to lie at our feet. Give him but a look at the greater objects in the distance. Thou seeest now but the title King of the Jews. Will thou lift thine eyes to the mystery beyond it? The stumbling block will disappear. Of the title a word. Thy Israel hath seen better days, days in which God called thy people endearingly his people, and dealt with them through prophets. Now, if in those days he promised them the Savior I saw, promised him as the King of the Jews, the appearance must be according to the promise, if only for the word's sake. Ah! Thou seeest the reason of my question at the gate. Thou seeest, and I will know more of it but pass on. It may be, next, thou art regarding the dignity of the child. If so, be think thee, what is it to be a successor of Herod? By the world's standard of honour, what? Could not God better by his beloved? If thou canst think of the Almighty Father in want of a title, and stooping to borrow the inventions of men, why was I not bidden ask for a Caesar at once? Oh! for the substance of that whereof we speak, look higher, I pray thee. Ask rather of what he whom we await shall be king. For I do tell, my son, that is the key to the mystery, which no man shall understand without the key. Balthazar raised his eyes devoutly. There is a kingdom on the earth, though it is not of it. A kingdom of wider bounds than the earth, wider than the sea and the earth, though they were rolled together as finest gold and spread by the beating of hammers. Its existence is a fact as our hearts are facts, and we journey through it from birth to death without seeing it. Nor shall any man see it until he hath first known his own soul, for the kingdom is not for him but for his soul. And in its dominion there is glory such as hath not entered imagination, original, incomparable, impossible of increase. What thou sayest, Father, is a riddle to me, said Ben Hur. I never heard of such a kingdom. Nor did I, said Ildrum. And I may not tell more of it. Balthazar added, humbly dropping his eyes. What it is, what it is for, how it may be reached, none can know until the child comes to take possession of it as his own. He brings the key of the viewless gate, which he will open for his beloved, among whom will be all who love him, for of such only the redeemed will be. After that there was a long silence, which Balthazar accepted as the end of the conversation. Good shake, he said in his placid way. To-morrow or the next day I will go up to the city for a time. My daughter wishes to see the preparations for the games. I will speak further about the time of our going. And, my son, I will see you again. To you both, peace and good night. The all arose from the table. The shake and Ben Hur remained looking after the Egyptian until he was conducted out of the tent. Shake Ilderham, said Ben Hur, then, I have heard strange things tonight. Give me leave, I pray, to walk by the lake that I may think of them. Go, and I will come after you. They washed their hands again, after which, at a sign from the master, a servant brought Ben Hur his shoes, and directly he went out. CHAPTER XVII up a little way from the Dower there was a cluster of palms, which through it shade half in the water, half on the land. A bull bull sang from the branches a song of invitation. Ben Hur stopped beneath to listen. At any other time the notes of the bird would have driven thought away, but the story of the Egyptian was a burden of wonder, and he was a laborer carrying it, and, like other laborers, there was to him no music in the sweetest music until mind and body were happily attuned by rest. The night was quiet. Not a ripple broke upon the shore. The old stars of the old east were all out, each in its accustomed place, and there was summer everywhere, on land, on lake, in the sky. Ben Hur's imagination was heated, his feelings aroused, his will all unsettled. So the palms, the sky, the air, seemed to him of the far south zone into which Balthazar had been driven by despair for men. The lake, with its motionless surface, was a suggestion of the neologic mother by which the good man stood praying when the spirit made its radiant appearance. Had all these accessories of the miracle come to Ben Hur, or had he been transferred to them? And what if the miracle should be repeated, and to him? He feared, yet wished, and even waited for the vision. When at last his feverish mood was cooled, permitting him to become himself, he was able to think. His scheme of life has been explained. In all reflection about it here before there had been one hiatus which he had not been able to bridge or fill up. One so broad he could see but vaguely to the other side of it. When finally he was graduated a captain as well as a soldier, to what object should he address his efforts? Revolution he contemplated, of course, but the processes of revolution have always been the same, and to lead men into them there have always been required, first, a cause or presence to enlist adherents, second, an end, or something as a practical achievement. As a rule he fights well who has wrongs to redress, but vastly better fights he who, with wrongs as a spur, has also steadily before him a glorious result in prospect, a result in which he can discern balm for wounds, compensation for valor, remembrance and gratitude in the event of death. To determine the sufficiency of either the cause or the end it was needful that Ben Hur should study the adherents to whom he looked when all was ready for action. Very naturally they were his countrymen. The wrongs of Israel were to every son of Abraham, and each one was a cause vastly holy, vastly inspiring. Aye, the cause was there, but the end, what should it be? The hours and days he had given this branch of his scheme were past calculation, all with the same conclusion, a dim, uncertain, general idea of national liberty. Was it sufficient? He could not say no, for that would have been the death of his hope. He shrank from saying yes, because his judgment taught him better. He could not assure himself even that Israel was able single-handed to successfully combat Rome. He knew the resources of that great enemy. He knew her art was superior to her resources. A universal alliance might suffice, but alas, that was impossible, except—and upon the exception how long and earnestly—he had dwelt. Except a hero would come from one of the suffering nations, and by martial successes accomplish a renown to fill the whole earth. What glory to Judea could she prove the Macedonia of the new Alexander? Alas, again, under the rabbi's valor was possible, but not discipline. And then the taunt of Masala in the Garden of Herod, all you conquer in the six days you lose on the seventh. So it happened he never approached the chasm thinking to surmount it, but he was beaten back, and so incessantly had he failed in the object that he had about given it over, except as a thing of chance. The hero might be discovered in his day, or he might not. God only knew. Such is state of mind, there need be no lingering upon the effect of Malak's skeleton recital of the story of Balthazar. He heard it with the bewildering satisfaction, a feeling that here was the solution of the trouble, here was the requisite hero found at last, and he a son of the lion tribe, and king of the Jews. Behind the hero, low, the world in arms. The king implied a kingdom. He was to be a warrior glorious as David, a ruler wise and magnificent as Solomon. The kingdom was to be a power against which Rome was to dash itself to pieces. There would be colossal war, and the agonies of death and birth. Then peace. Meaning, of course, Judean dominion forever. Ben Hur's heart beat hard as for an instant he had a vision of Jerusalem, the capital of the world, and Zion, the site of the throne of the Universal Master. It seemed to the enthusiast, rare fortune that the man who had seen the king was at the tent to which he was going, he could see him there, and hear him, and learn of him what all he knew of the coming change, especially all he knew of the time of its happening. If it were at hand, the campaign with Maxentius should be abandoned, and he would go and set about organizing and arming the tribes that Israel might be ready when the great day of the Restoration began to break. Now, as we have seen, from Balthasar himself Ben Hur had the marvellous story. Was he satisfied? There was a shadow upon him deeper than that of the cluster of palms, the shadow of a great uncertainty which, take note, O reader, which pertains more to the kingdom than the king. What of this kingdom, and what is it to be? Ben Hur asked himself and thought. Thus early arose the questions which were to follow the child to his end, and survive him on earth, incomprehensible in his day, a dispute in this, an enigma to all who do not or cannot understand that every man is two in one, a deathless soul and a mortal body. What is it to be? he asked. For us, O reader, the child himself has answered, but for Ben Hur there were only the words of Balthasar, on the earth yet not of it, not for men, but for their souls, a dominion nevertheless of unimaginable glory. What wonder the hapless youth found the phrases but the darkening of a riddle. The hand of man is not in it, he said despairingly, nor has the king of such a kingdom use for men, neither toilers nor counselors nor soldiers. The earth must die or be made anew, and for government new principles must be discovered, something besides armed hands, something in place of force. But what? Again, O reader, that which we will not see, he could not. The power there is in love had not yet occurred to any man, much less had one come saying directly that for government and its objects, peace and order, love is better and mightier than force. In the midst of his reverie a hand was laid upon his shoulder. I have a word to say, O son of Arius, said Ilderum, stopping by his side. A word, and then I must return for the night is going. I give you welcome, Sheikh. As to the things you have heard but now, said Ilderum, almost without pause, take him belief all save that relating to the kind of kingdom the child will set up when he comes, as to so much keep verge in mind until you hear Simonides the merchant, a good man here in Antioch, to whom I will make you known. The Egyptian gives you coinage of his dreams which are too good for the earth. Simonides is wiser. He will ring you the sayings of your prophets, giving book and page, so you cannot deny that the child will be king of the Jews in fact. I, by the splendor of God, a king as hair it was, only better and far more magnificent. And then, see you, we will taste the sweetness of vengeance. I have said, peace to you. Stay, Sheikh. If Ilderum heard his call he did not stay. Simonides again, said Ben Hur bitterly. Simonides here, Simonides there. From this one now, then from that. I am like to be well ridden by my father's servant, who knows at least to hold fast that which is mine, wherefore he is richer if indeed he be not wiser than the Egyptian. By the Covenant it is not to the faithless a man should go to find a faith to keep, and I will not. But Hark, singing, and the voice of womens, or in angels, it comes this way. Down the lake towards the dower came a woman singing. Her voice floated along the hushed water melodious as a flute, and louder growing each instant. Directly the dipping of oars was heard in slow measure. A little later the words were distinguishable. Words impurest Greek, best fitted of all the tongues of the day for the expression of passionate grief. Here are the words of the song, the Lament. I sigh as I sing for the story land across the Syrian sea. The odorous winds from the musky sand were breaths of life to me. They play with the plumes of the whispering palm for me, alas, no more. Nor more does the Nile in the moonlit calm moan past the Memphian shore. O Niles, thou God of my fainting soul, in dreams thou comest to me. And dreaming I play with the lotus-bowl and sing old songs to thee, and hear from afar the monomium strain and calls from dear symbol, and wake to a passion of grief and pain that ere I said farewell. At the conclusion of the song the singer was past the cluster of palms. The last word, farewell, floated past Ben Herr waited with all the sweet sorrow of parting. The passing of the boat was as the passing of a deeper shadow into the deeper night. Ben Herr drew a long breath hardly distinguishable from a sigh. I know her by the song, the daughter of Balthazar, how beautiful it was! And how beautiful is she! He recalled her large eyes curtain slightly by the drooping lids, the cheeks oval and rosy rich, the lips full and deep with dimpling in the corners, and all the grace of the tall, lithe figure. How beautiful she is! he repeated. And his heart made answer by a quickening of its movement. Then, almost the same instant, another face, younger and quite as beautiful, more childlike and tender, if not so passionate, appeared as if held up to him out of the lake. Esther, he said, smiling, as I wished a star has been sent to me. He turned and passed slowly back to the tent. His life had been crowded with griefs and with vengeful preparations, too much crowded for love. Was this the beginning of a happy change? And if the influence went with him into the tent, whose was it? Esther had given him a cup. So had the Egyptian, and both had come to him at the same time under the palms. Which? End of chapter. Chapter 1 The morning after the Bacchanalia in the saloon of the palace, the divan was covered with young patricians. Maxentius might come, and the city thronged to receive him. The legion might descend from Mount Supius in glory of arms and armor. From Nefeium to Amphalus there might be ceremonial splendors to shame the most notable ever before seen or heard of in the gorgeous east. Yet would the many continue to sleep ignominiously on the divan, where they had fallen or been carelessly tumbled by the indifferent slaves. That they would be able to take part in the reception that day was about as possible as for the lay figures in the studio of a modern artist to rise and go bonneted and plumed through the one, two, three of a waltz. Not all, however, who participated in the orgy were in the shameful condition. When dawn began to peer through the skylights of the saloon, Masala arose and took the chaplet from his head in sign that the rebel was at end. Then he gathered his robe about him, gave a last look at the scene, and without a word departed for his quarters. Cicero could not have retired with more gravity from a night-long senatorial debate. Three hours afterwards two couriers entered his room, and from his own hand received each a dispatch, sealed and in duplicate, and consisting chiefly of a letter to Valerius Gratis, the procurator, still resident in Caesarea. The importance attached to the speedy and certain delivery of the paper may be inferred. One courier was to proceed over land, the other by sea, both were to make the utmost haste. It is of great concern now that the reader should be fully informed of the contents of the letter, thus forwarded, and it is accordingly given. Antioch. Masala to Gratis. O my Midas. I pray thou take no offence at the address, seeing it as one of love and gratitude, and an admission that thou art most fortunate among men. Seeing also that thy ears are as they were derived from thy mother, only proportionate to thy matured condition. O my Midas. I have to relate to thee an astonishing event, which, though as yet somewhat in the field of conjecture, will I doubt not justify thy instant consideration. Allow me first to revive thy recollection. Remember, a good many years ago, a family of a prince of Jerusalem, incredibly ancient and vastly rich, by name Ben Hur. If thy memory have a limp or ailment of any kind, there is, if I mistake not, a wound on thy head which may help thee to a revival of the circumstance. Next, to arouse thy interest, impunishment of the attempt upon thy life, for dear repose of conscience may all the gods forbid it should ever prove to have been an accident. The family were seized and summarily disposed of, and their property confiscated. And it is much, O my Midas, as the action had the approval of our Caesar, who was as just as he was wise, be there flowers upon his altars for ever. There should be no shame in referring to the sums which were realized to us respectively from that source, for which it is not possible I can ever cease to be grateful to thee. Certainly not while I continue, as at present, in the uninterrupted enjoyment of the part which fell to me. In vindication of thy wisdom, a quality for which, as I am now advised, the Son of Gordius, to whom I have boldly liken thee, was never distinguished among men or gods. I recall further that thou didst make disposition of the family of her, both of us at the time supposing the plan hit upon to be the most effective possible for the purposes in view, which were silence and delivery over to inevitable but natural death. Thou wilt remember what thou didst with the mother and sister of the malefactor. Yet, if now I yield to a desire to learn whether they be living or dead, I know, from knowing the amiability of thy nature, O my Gratis, that thou wilt part of me as one scarcely less amiable than thyself. As more immediately essential to the present business, however, I take the liberty of inviting to thy remembrance that the actual criminal was sent to the galleys a slave for life. So the precept ran, and it may serve to make the event which I am about to relate the more astonishing by saying here that I saw and read the receipt for his body delivering course to the Tribune commanding a galley. Thou mayest begin now to give me more a special heed, O my most excellent Phrygian. Referring to the limit of life at the oar, the outlaw thus justly disposed of should be dead, or, better speaking, some one of the three thousand Oceanides should have taken him to husband at least five years ago. And if thou wilt excuse a momentary weakness almost virtuous and tender of men, in as much as I loved him in childhood, and also because he was very handsome, I used in much admiration to call him my Ganymede. He ought in right to have fallen into the arms of the most beautiful daughter of the family. Of opinion, however, that he was certainly dead, I have lived quite five years in calm and innocent enjoyment of the fortune for which I am in a degree indebted to him. I make the admission of indebtedness without intending it to diminish my obligation to thee. Now I am at the very point of interest. Last night, while acting as master of the feast for a party just from Rome, their extreme youth and inexperience appealed to my compassion. I heard a singular story. Maxentius, the consul, as you know, comes to-day to conduct a campaign against the Parthians. Of the ambitious who are to accompany him there is one, a son of the late Duumvir Quintus Arius. I had occasion to inquire about him particularly. When Arius set out in pursuit of the pirates, whose defeat gained him his final honors. He had no family. When he returned from the expedition he brought back with him an heir. Now be thou composed as becomes the owner of so many talents in ready Sestertii. The son and heir of whom I speak is he whom thou did send to the galleys. The very Ben Hur, who should have died at his oar five years ago, returned now with fortune and rank, and possibly as a Roman citizen, to—well, thou art too firmly seated to be alarmed, but I, oh my minus, I am in danger. No need to tell thee of what. Who should know if thou dost not? Sayest thou to all this, tut, tut? When Arius the father by adoption of this apparition from the arms of the most beautiful of the Oceanides—see above my opinion of what she should be—joined battle with the pirates, his vessel was sunk, and but two of all her crew escaped drowning. Arius himself and this one his heir. The officers who took them from the plank on which they were floating say the associate of the fortunate Tribune was a young man who, when lifted to the deck, was in the dress of a galleyslave. This should be convincing to say least, but lest thou say, tut, tut, again, I tell thee, oh my minus, that yesterday, by good chance, I have avowed to fortune and consequence, I met the mysterious son of Arius face to face, and I declare now that, though I did not then recognize him, he is the very Benher who was for years my playmate. The very Benher who, if he be a man, though of the commonest grade, must this very moment of my writing be thinking of vengeance, for so would I were I he, vengeance not to be satisfied short of life, vengeance for country, mother, sister, self, and, I say at last, though thou mayest think it would be first, for fortune lost. By this time, oh good my benefactor and friend, Micratus, in consideration of thy sisterty I am peril, their loss being the worst which could befall one of thy high estate, I quit calling thee after the foolish old king of Phrygia, by this time, I say, meaning after having read me so far, I have faith to believe thou hast seen saying, tut tut, and art ready to think what ought to be done in such emergency. It were vulgar to ask thee now what shall be done, rather let me say I am thy client, or better yet, thou art my Ulysses, whose part it is to give me sound direction. And I please myself thinking I see thee when this letter is put into thy hand, I see thee read it once, thy countenance all gravity, and then again with a smile. Then, hesitation ended, and thy judgment formed, it is this or it is that, wisdom like mercaries, promptitude like Caesars. The sun is now fairly risen. An hour hence two messengers will depart from my door, each with a sealed copy hereof. One of them will go by land, the other by sea. So important do I regard it that thou shouldst be early and particularly informed of the appearance of our enemy in this part of our Roman world. I will await thy answer here. Benhur's going and coming will of course be regulated by his master, the consul, who, though he exert himself without rest day and night, cannot get away under a month, thou knowest what work it is to assemble and provide for an army destined to operate in a desolate, townless country. I saw the Jew yesterday in the grove of Daphne, and if he be not there now, he is certainly in the neighborhood, making it easy for me to keep him in eye. Indeed, without to ask me where he is now, I should say, with the most positive assurance, he is to be found at the old orchard of Palms, under the tent of the traitor, Sheikh Ilderim, who cannot long escape our strong hand. Be not surprised if Maccentius, as his first measure, places the Arab on ship for forwarding to Rome. I am so particular about the whereabouts of the Jew because it will be important to thee, O illustrious, when thou comeest to consider what is to be done. For already I know, and by the knowledge I flatter myself I am growing in wisdom, that in every scheme involving human action there are three elements always to be taken into account—time, place, and agency. If thou sayest this is the place, have thou then no hesitancy in entrusting the business to thy most loving friend, who would be thy aptus scholar as well? BOOK V. CHAPTER II About the time the courier is departed from Masala's door with the dispatches, it being yet the early morning hour, Benher entered Ilderim's tent. He had taken a plunge into the lake and breakfasted, and appeared now in an undertunic, sleeveless, and with skirt scarcely reaching to the knee. The sheikh saluted him from the divan. I give thee peace, son of Arius! he said, with admiration, for in truth he had never seen a more perfect illustration of glowing, powerful, confident manhood. I give thee peace and good will. The horses are ready. I am ready. And thou? The peace thou giveest me, good sheikh. I give thee in return. I thank thee for so much good will. I am ready. Ilderim clapped his hands. I will have the horses brought. Be seated. Are they yoked? No. Then suffer me to serve myself, said Benher. It is needful that I make the acquaintance of thy Arabs. I must know them by name, o sheikh, that I may speak to them singly. Nor lest must I know their temper, for they are like men. If bold, the better of scolding. If timid, the better of praise and flattery. Let the servants bring me the harness. And the chariot? asked the sheikh. I will let the chariot alone today. In its place let them bring me a fifth horse, if thou hast it. He should be barebacked and fleet as the others. Ilderim's wonder was aroused, and he summoned a servant immediately. Bid them bring the harness for the four, he said. The harness for the four and the bridle forth serious. Ilderim then arose. Serious is my love, and I am his, O son of Arius. We have been comrades for twenty years. Intent, in battle, in all stages of the desert, we have been comrades. I will show him to you. Going to the division curtain, he held it, while Benher passed under. The horses came to him in a body. One with a small head, luminous eyes, neck like the segment of a bended bow, and mighty chest, curtain thickly by a profusion of mane, soft and wavy as a damsel's locks, nickered low and gladly at sight of him. Good horse! said the sheikh, patting the dark brown cheek. Good horse, good morning! Turning then to Benher, he added. This is serious. Father of the four here. Myra, the mother, awaits our return, being too precious to be hazarded in a region where there is a stronger hand than mine. And much I doubt—he laughed, as he spoke— Much I doubt, O son of Arius, if the tribe could endure her absence. She is their glory. They worship her. Did she gallop over them, they would laugh. Ten thousand horsemen, sons of the desert, will ask to-day, Have you heard of Myra? And to the answer, she is well. They will say, God is good! Blessed be God! Myra, serious? Names of stars, are they not, O sheikh? Asked Benher, going to each of the four, and to the sire offering his hand. And why not? replied Ildrum. Worth thou ever abroad on the desert at night? No. Then thou canst not know how much we Arabs depend upon the stars. We borrow their names in gratitude, and give them in love. My fathers all had their Myras, as I have mine, and these children are stars no less. There, see thou, is Rigel, and their Antares. That one is Altair, and he whom thou goes to now is Aldebaran, the youngest of the brood, but none the worst of that, no, not he. Against the wind he will carry thee till it roar in thy ears like Acaba, and he will go where thou sayest, O son of Arius, I, by the glory of Solomon, he will take thee to the lion's jaws if thou darest so much. The harness was brought. With his own hands Ben Hur equipped the horses. With his own hands he led them out of the tent, and there attached the reins. Bring me serious, he said. An Arab could not have better sprung to seat on the courses back. And now the reins? They were given him, and carefully separated. Good shake, he said. I am ready. Let a guide go before me to the field and send some of thy men with water. There was no trouble at starting. The horses were not afraid. Already there seemed a tacit understanding between them and the new driver, who had performed his part calmly, and with the confidence which always begets confidence. The order of going was precisely that of driving. Except that Ben Hur sat upon Sirius instead of standing in the chariot. Ilderum's spirit arose. He combed his beard, and smiled with satisfaction as he muttered, He followed on foot the entire tenetry of the dour, men, women, and children pouring after him, participants all in his solicitude if not in his confidence. The field, when reached, proved ample and well fitted for the training, which Ben Hur began immediately by driving the four at first slowly and in perpendicular lines, and then in wide circles. Advancing a step in the course, he put them next into a trot. Again progressing, he pushed into a gallop. At length he contracted the circles, and yet later drove eccentrically here and there, right, left, forward, and without a break. An hour was thus occupied. Slowing the gate to a walk, he drove up to Ilderum. The work is done. Nothing now but practice, he said. I give you joy, Sheikh Ilderum, that you have such servants as these. See, he continued dismounting and going to the horses. See, the gloss of their red coats is without spot. They breathe lightly as when I began. I give thee great joy, and it will go hard if—he turned his flashing eyes upon the old man's face—if we have not the victory and our— He stopped, colored, bowed. At the Sheikh's side he observed for the first time Balthazar leaning upon his staff, and two women closely veiled. At one of the latter he looked a second time, saying to himself with a flutter about his heart, "'Tis she, tis the Egyptian!' Ilderum picked up his broken sentence. The victory and our revenge!' Then he said aloud, I am not afraid. I am glad. Son of Arius, thou art the man. Be the end, like the beginning, and thou shalt see of what stuff is the lining of the hand of an Arab who is able to give. I thank thee, good Sheikh. Ben Hur returned modestly. Let the servants bring drink for the horses. With his own hands he gave the water. Remouting serious he renewed the training, going as before from Walk to Trot, from Trot to Gallop. Finally he pushed the steady racers into the run, gradually quickening it to full speed. The performance then became exciting, and there was applause for the dainty handling of the rains, an aberration for the four, which were the same whether they flew forward or wheeled in varying curvature. In their action there was unity, power, grace, pleasure, all without effort or sign of labour. The aberration was unmixed with pity or reproach, which would have been as well bestowed upon swallows and their evening flight. In the midst of the exercises, and the attention they received from all the bystanders, Malak came upon the ground, seeking the shake. I have a message for you, O Sheikh. He said, availing himself of a moment he's supposed favourable for the speech. A message from Simonides the merchant. Simonides, ejaculated the Arab. Ah, diswell! May Abaddon take all his enemies! He bade me give thee first the holy peace of God. Malak continued, and then this dispatch, with prayer that thou read it in the instant of receipt. Ilderum, standing in his place, broke the ceiling of the package delivered to him, and from a wrapping of fine linen took two letters which he proceeded to read. Number 1 Simonides to shake Ilderum. O friend, assure thyself first of a place in my inner heart. Then there is in thy dour a youth of fair presence calling himself the son of Arius, and such he is by adoption. He is very dear to me. He hath a wonderful history which I will tell thee, come thou to-day or to-morrow, that I may tell thee the history and have thy counsel. Meantime, favour all his requests, so they be not against honour. Should there be need of reparation, I am bound to thee for it. That I have interest in this youth, keep thou private. Remember me to thy other guest. He, his daughter, thyself, and all whom thou mayest choose to be of thy company, must depend upon me at the circus the day of the games. I have seats already engaged. To thee an all-vine peace. What should I be, O my friend, but thy friend? Signed Simonides. Number 2 Simonides to shake Ilderum. O friend, out of the abundance of my experience I send you a word. There is a sign which all persons not Romans, and who have monies or goods subject to dispoimment except as warning. That is, the arrival at a seat of power of some high Roman official charged with authority. Today comes the consul, Maxentius. Be thou warned. Another word of advice. A conspiracy to be of effect against thee, O friend, must include the herids as parties. Thou hast great properties in their dominions. Wherefore keep thou watch. Send this morning to thy trusty keepers of the roads, leading south from Antioch, and bid them search every courier coming and going. If they find private dispatches relating to thee or thine affairs, thou shouldst see them. You should have received this yesterday, though it is not too late if you act promptly. If couriers left Antioch this morning your messengers know the by-ways and can get before them with your orders. Do not hesitate. Burn this after reading. O my friend, thy friend, signed Simonides. Ilderham read the letters a second time and refolded them in the linen wrap and put the package under his girdle. The exercises in the field continued but a little longer, in all about two hours. At their conclusion Ben Hur brought the four to a walk and drove to Ilderham. With leave, O shake, he said, I will return thy Arabs to the tent and bring them out again this afternoon. Ilderham walked to him as he sat on Sirius and said, I give them to you, son of Arius, to do with as you will until after the games. You have done with them in two hours what the Roman may jackals know his bones fleshless. Could not in as many weeks. We will win, by the splendor of God, we will win. At the tent Ben Hur remained with the horses while they were being cared for. Then, after a plunge in the lake and a cup of Arak with the shake, whose flow of spirits was royally exuberant, he dressed himself in his Jewish garb again and walked with Malik on into the orchard. There was much conversation between the two, not all of it important. One part, however, must not be overlooked. Ben Hur was speaking. I will give you, he said, an order for my property stored in the con this side of the river by the Seleucian bridge. Bring it to me to-day, if you can, and, good Malik, if I do not overtask you. Malik protested heartily his willingness to be of service. Thank you, Malik, thank you, said Ben Hur. I will take you at your word, remembering that we are brethren of the old tribe, and that the enemy is a Roman. First, then, as you are a man of business, which I much fear Shake Yildirim is not. Arab seldom are, said Malik, gravely. Nay, I do not impeach their shrewdness, Malik. It is well, however, to look after them. To save all forfeit or hindrance in connection with the race, you would put me perfectly at rest by going to the office of the Circus, and seeing that he is complied with every preliminary rule. And if you can get a copy of the rules, the service may be of great avail to me. I would like to know the colors I am to wear, and particularly the number of the crypt I am to occupy at the starting. If it be next Masala's on the right or left it is well, if not, and you can have it changed so as to bring me next the Roman, do so. Have you good memory, Malik? It has failed me, but never, son of Arius, where the heart helped it as now. I will venture, then, to charge you with one further service. I saw yesterday that Masala was proud of his chariot, as he might be, for the best of Caesar's scarcely surpass it. Can you not make its display an excuse which will enable you to find if it be light or heavy? I would like to have its exact weight and measurements. And, Malik, though you fail in all else, bring me exactly the height his axle stands above the ground. You understand, Malik? I do not wish him to have any actual advantage of me. I do not care for his splendor. If I beat him it will make his fall the harder, and my triumph the more complete. If there are advantages really important I want them. I see, I see," said Malik, a line dropped from the center of the axle is what you want. Thou hast it, and be glad, Malik, it is the last of my commissions. Let us return to the door. At the door of the tent they found a servant replenishing the smoke-stained bottles of laban freshly made, and stopped to refresh themselves. Shortly afterwards Malik returned to the city. During their absence a messenger well-mounted had been dispatched with orders as suggested by Simonides. He was an Arab and carried nothing written.