Stephen: A Soldier of the Cross

by Florence Morse Kingsley

"The man Jesus is of great power," interrupted Ben Hesed hastily. "It hath been said of him that he hath even raised the dead."

The woman looked startled. "Thou art, then, a stranger in these parts," she said, "and have not heard what hath come to pass of late in Jerusalem?"

"I am from the wilderness; what is it that hath come to pass?"

"The man Jesus hath been slain--crucified!" said the woman, her heavy eyes blazing with indignation.

Ben Hesed was silent for a moment, "Why did they slay him?" he asked at length.

"Nay, I know not," said the woman wearily, folding the child close to her bosom. "I saw him once in my own village. He did there many mighty works of healing, and of the things which he said, I remember much even to this day. He was a great prophet, and now is his power fallen on his disciples, even as the mantle of Elijah fell upon Elisha when he ascended in the chariot of fire and had, therefore, no further need of a mantle."

Ben Hesed looked once more at the city to which they were now drawing very near. "Thus saith the Lord God," he murmured, "This is Jerusalem; I have set it in the midst of the nations and countries that are round about her. The end is at hand, behold it watcheth for thee, O thou that dwellest in the land! The time is come, the day of trouble is near. Now will I shortly pour out my fury upon thee and accomplish my anger upon thee. And I will judge thee according to thy ways, and will recompense thee for all thine abominations, for the land is full of bloody crimes, and the city is full of violence."

And when they were now come to the gates, they had much ado to enter in, because of the great multitude of the sick, lame and blind which were coming from every quarter. The streets were filled with them, and with the noise of their groaning and wailing. Ben Hesed, his son and his two servants, together with the woman, who still held the quiet child close to her bosom, followed on with the others.

After a time it became impossible to proceed further, so they waited where they were. Near them two men were holding a demoniac, who bellowed loudly from time to time, and tore at his clothes, which were already in ribbons, and at the hair and faces of his guardians. A little further on, the keen eye of Ben Hesed descried a palsied man lying on his bed, his emaciated face the color of death. Beyond him were a group of blind men, waiting with the hopeless apathy of accustomed misery for something, they scarce knew what. Save for the moans and cries of the sick ones there was scarcely a sound; the sun beat fiercely down from above, the yellow dust rose in stifling clouds from beneath, and still they waited.

At length from somewhere afar off there rose a cry--a wild, jubilant, inarticulate sound; a deep answering murmur arose from the ghastly throng of sufferers about them. This strange pean of joy rose and fell, now swelling loudly, now dying away, but always drawing nearer. Ben Hesed looked at the woman; she was fumbling wildly at the wrappings which swathed her babe; she bent her head as if to listen at his tiny chest.