"Judas Maccabeus!" exclaimed the young Greek, starting to his feet, more alarmed at the sound of that name than had been the warriors of Nicanor, when hearing it suddenly at night in the death-shout. Lycidas, with all the enthusiastic admiration which noble deeds inspire in a poetic and generous nature like his, had regarded the career of the Hebrew hero. The history of Maccabeus was to the Greek an acted epic; in character, in renown, Judas, in his estimation, towered like a giant above all other men of his generation. Lycidas had met the chieftain but once; but in that one meeting had received impressions which made him idealize Maccabeus into a being more like the demi-gods of whom poets sang, whom worshippers adored, than one of the denizens of earth. He was in the eyes of the young enthusiast, conqueror, patriot, and prince—a breathing embodiment of "the heroism of virtue." The Greek had never thought of Maccabeus before as one subject to human passions, save love of country, and perhaps love of fame; or as one influenced by human affections, who might seek to win a woman's heart as well as to triumph over his foes. The idea of having him for a rival struck the young Athenian with something like despair; it seemed more than presumption to enter the arena against such an opponent as this. Lycidas believed that, had Antiochus Epiphanes laid the crown of Syria at the feet of Zarah, she would have rejected the gift; but breathed there a maiden in Judaea who could do aught but accept with pride the proffered hand of her country's hero—of him who was to all other mortals as snow-capped Lebanon to a mole-hill?
Zarah felt that her disclosure had inspired more alarm in the mind of Lycidas than she had intended, or than was warranted by the true state of the relations between her and the Hebrew leader. She hastened to relieve the apprehensions of the Greek. "I reverence Maccabeus," said the maiden; "I would repose the greatest confidence alike in his wisdom and his honour; but, personally, Judas is no more to me than any of his brothers."
Lycidas drew a deep sigh of relief. Grateful for the encouragement which he drew from this avowal, the Greek resumed his place by the side of Zarah. "What course will you then pursue towards Maccabeus?" he inquired.
"I must consult him, as Hadassah bade me consult him," said the maiden: "he must know all that most nearly concerns me; it seems to me as if he stood to me now in the place of a father."
The spirits of Lycidas rose at the word; again his heart was buoyant with hope.
"Our first object now, beloved one," said he, "must be to place your person in safety. As you will not seek refuge in Attica, we will bend our course southward—if such be your wish—and find out your aged relative at Bethsura. I would fain that she dwelt in any other direction; for Bethsura itself holds a Syrian garrison, the army of Lysias is advancing, and southern Judaea is so infested by armed bands that travelling is scarcely safe. Have you no friends, no relatives, in Galilee, or on the sea-coast?"
Zarah shook her head. "I know not of one," she replied. "Rachel dwells not in Bethsura but near it, and in a spot so retired that the enemy is scarcely likely to find it out. If the country be infested by armed bands—they are the followers of Maccabeus, and from them we have nothing to dread."
Though Lycidas was not a little disappointed at having to give up his first scheme—that of bearing off Zarah to the coast, and thence to Attica—he could not but respect her scruples, and own that the course upon which she had decided was not only the most dutiful but the most wise. It was agreed therefore that Zarah, under the escort of Lycidas, should start at the hour which the Greek had first proposed; but that, instead of Joppa, her destination should be Bethsura—at which place, by travelling all night, she might hope to arrive before dawn.
While Zarah was concluding these arrangements with Lycidas, Anna returned from Jerusalem. The face of the faithful servant expressed anxiety; a warning dropped in her ear by a Hebrew acquaintance had rendered her uneasy on account of her mistress. "Beware! dogs are on the scent of the deer." Heartily glad was the handmaid to find that the Athenian lord had come to aid the escape of Zarah; his talents, his courage, the gold which he so lavishly spent, would, as she thought, clear away all difficulties attending their flight.
The Greek soon left the lady and her attendant to make needful preparations for a journey so sudden and unexpected as that which was before them.