“Where is the man who heals the blind?” demanded Chelluh, leaning heavily on the child.
Tor trembled, but he answered boldly enough. “He will be in the court of the Gentiles healing the blind.”
There was a great concourse of people crowding the street which led up to the temple, and amongst them numerous cripples, palsied men on litters, sick children in the arms of anxious, wild-eyed mothers, and blind beggars, led like Chelluh by willing guides.
“Yes, the King is in the temple,” re[pg 65]peated Tor confidently. Then he shouted “Hosanna!” in his shrill childish voice, as he had done the day before. The cry was echoed by myriads of voices both far and near.
Chelluh’s heavy hand descended upon his guide’s curly head. “Be silent, fool,” he hissed. “There is tumult ahead. Keep clear of the crowd, I say, and look sharp!”
They were near the main entrance of the temple now, and the stream of newcomers was met by an excited mob of people coming out. Imprecations, shouts, and loud angry cries blended confusedly with the whir of moving wings, for a great cloud of doves hovered uncertainly over the place, now flying, now settling on the roofs and pinnacles of the marble porticoes. Chelluh stopped determinedly and snuffed the air like an animal.
“What is going on within?” he demanded of Tor.
The question was answered by a woman in a foreign head-dress who chanced to pause in the crowd beside them. “The Nazarene has thrust out the sellers of doves and the money-changers from the great court,” she said laughingly. “With these eyes I saw it. The Prophet cast down the tables with no gentle hand, loosed the doves, and drove out the craven Jews before him like a flock of frightened sheep. ’Twas a great sight. Also, the money was scattered all over the court among the multitude. Even I, a Gentile, am the richer for it.”
“Money?” exclaimed the blind beggar greedily. “Come, let us go in, I would I had eyes that I might glean of this harvest.”
“The man gives eyes also for the asking,” said the woman indifferently. “I have witnessed miracles of healing till I am weary of them. The Jew is a great magician, surely; but his own countrymen hate him, and the Romans care naught for miracles, so betwixt the two he will perchance fall to the ground.”