“Sir, I will both tell it and prove it to be true”; and Nehushta told him all from the beginning to the end, producing to his sight the tokens which she had taken from the breast of her mistress, and repeating her last message to him word for word. When she had finished, Ithiel turned away and mourned a while. Then, speaking aloud, he put up a prayer to God for guidance—for without prayer these people would not enter upon anything, however simple—and came back to Nehushta, who stood by the oxen.
“Good and faithful woman,” he said, “who it would seem are not fickle and light-hearted, or worse, like the multitude of your sex—perchance because your dark skin shields you from their temptations—you have set me in a cleft stick, and there I am held fast. Know that the rule of my order is that we should have naught to do with females, young or old; therefore how can I receive you or the child?”
“Of the rules of your order, sir, I know nothing,” answered Nehushta sharply, since the words about the colour of her skin had not pleased her; “but of the rules of nature I do know, and something of the rules of God also, for, like my mistress and this infant, I am a Christian. These tell me, all of them, that to cast out an orphan child who is of your own blood, and whom a cruel fortune has thus brought to your door, would be an evil act, and one for which you must answer to Him who is above the rules of any order.”
“I may not wrangle, especially with a woman,” replied Ithiel, who seemed ill at ease; “but if my first words are true, this is true also, that those same rules enjoin upon us hospitality, and above all, that we must not turn away the helpless or the destitute.”
“Clearly, then, sir, least of any must you turn away this child whose blood is your blood, and whose dead mother sent her to you, that she might not fall into the power of a grandfather who has dealt so cruelly with those he should have cherished, to be brought up among Zealots as a Jew and taught to make offering of living things, and be anointed with the oil and blood of sacrifice.”
“No, no, the thought is horrible,” answered Ithiel, holding up his hands. “It is better, far better that she should be a Christian than one of that fanatic and blood-spilling faith.” This he said, because among the Essenes the use of oil was held to be unclean. Also above all things, they loathed the offering of life in sacrifice to God; who, although they did not acknowledge Christ—perhaps because He was never preached to them, who would listen to no new religion—practised the most of His doctrines with the greatest strictness.
“The matter is too hard for me,” he went on. “I must lay it before a full Court of the hundred curators, and what they decide, that will be done. Still, this is our rule: to assist those who need and to show mercy, to accord succour to such as deserve it, and to give food to those in distress. Therefore, whatever the Court, which it will take three days to summon, may decide, in the meanwhile I have the right to give you, and those with you, shelter and provision in the guest-house. As it chances, it is situated in that part of the village where dwell the lowest of our brethren, who are permitted to marry, so there you will find company of your own sex.”
“I shall be glad of it,” answered Nehushta drily. “Also I should call them the highest of the brethren, since marriage is a law of God, which God the Father has instituted, and God the Son has blessed.”
“I may not wrangle, I may not wrangle,” replied Ithiel, declining the encounter; “but certainly, that is a lovely babe. Look. Its eyes are open and they are beautiful as flowers”; and again he bent down and kissed the child, then added with a groan of remorse, “Alas! sinner that I am, I am defiled; I must purify myself and do penance.”
“Why?” asked Nehushta shortly.