Constantius’ Absence
But he had higher topics, and the sagacity of his views, in a crisis that was made to shake the wisdom of the wise, often held me in astonishment. The fate of Constantius deeply perplexed me. He had now been absent long, and no tidings of him could be heard among the returning warriors further than that he had joined them in the march to the valley of the Crosses, had distinguished himself by the intrepidity of his attack on the legionary guard at the entrance, and was seen for a short time with a captured standard in his hand leading on the people. Unable to endure the silent anguish of those round me, silent only through fear of giving me pain, I had determined on passing the walls again to seek my brave and unfortunate son among the fallen. But Miriam’s quick affection detected me, and with weeping prayers she implored that “I should not risk a life on which hung her own and those of her children.”
The sound of the lyre came suddenly upon the air, and to dissipate the cloud that was gathering on my mind, I wandered to a balcony where, in the evening light and the pleasant breathing of the breeze, the minstrel was touching the strings to the song that had first attracted me. I flung my wearied frame on a couch and listened until memory became too keen, and I waved my hand to him to change the strain. He obeyed, but his heart was in the harp no more; his touch faltered, the song died away, and he approached me with a soothingness of voice and manner that none would have desired to resist.
“My prince,” said he, “you are unhappy, and if your sorrows can be lightened by any service of mine, why not command me?”
He waited; but I was too much absorbed in gloomy speculation.
“I can pass the gates,” he timidly continued, “if such be my lord’s will.”
I made a sign of dissent, for the enemy, since their late surprise, had begun to urge the siege with increased vigilance. Yet my anxiety for the fate of Constantius, and scarcely less for that of Naomi and her lover, must have been visible.
Salathiel’s Prejudices
He still lingered nigh, watching the indications which inward struggle so forcibly paints upon the external man.