“Nearly five months. For a hundred and twenty days I was kept as a slave at Jerusalem, labouring at the levelling of the walls.”
“Five months,” said Marcus. “Tell me, do you know whether Titus has sailed?”
“I heard that he had departed from Alexandria on his road to Rome.”
“Miriam will walk in his Triumph, and afterwards be sold as a slave! Woman, there is no time to lose,” said Marcus.
“None,” answered Nehushta; “still, there is time to thank this faithful messenger.”
“Ay,” said Marcus. “Man, what reward do you seek? Whatever it be it shall be paid to you who have endured so much. Yes, it shall be paid, though here and now I have no money.”
“I seek no reward,” replied the Essene, “who have but fulfilled my promise and done my duty.”
“Yet Heaven shall reward you,” said Nehushta. “And now let us hence to Ithiel.”
Back they went swiftly to the caves that were occupied by the Essenes during the rebuilding of their houses. In a little cabin that was open to the air lay Ithiel. The old man was on his death-bed, for age, hardship, and anxiety had done their work with him, so that now he was unable to stand, but reclined upon a pallet awaiting his release. To him they told their story.
“God is merciful,” he said, when he had heard it. “I feared that she might be dead, for in the presence of so much desolation, my faith grows weak.”