A King of Tyre: A Tale of the Times of Ezra and Nehemiah

by James M. Ludlow

But no quarrel with the rulers at Jerusalem could alienate his patriotism or dim his larger hope in the coming glory of his people. His soul thrilled with all the good news of prosperity in the sacred city. He sent his contributions regularly for the temple service, and, when able, made his pilgrimage "thrice in the year" to the festivals. When, some twelve years before the date of our story, Nehemiah had come from Susa to assist in rebuilding the temple and the walls, Ben Yusef had met him on the way; indeed, had entertained the new governor as loyally as his purse and peasant habits made possible. This act had cost him much of the goodwill of his half-heathen neighbors, and forced him to a more isolated life than before; for he was now looked upon as neither Jew nor Gentile.

As Hiram caught partial information of what the reader now knows more fully, he felt that Ben Yusef was a man who might understand and sympathize with him in his expatriation, and consequently rested more complacently. Yet he was persuaded that it would be wise voluntarily to divulge his terrible secret to no one. If it were discovered, it would be time enough to acknowledge it, and claim the kinship which common persecution had made between him and his host.

The night passed in safety. The volcanic activity vented itself beneath the ground, which trembled as if ten thousand chariots were driven over it.

Strength came rapidly to the wounded man. He had prayed to Jehovah, and an answer came either directly from the "God of the land" or indirectly through the invigorating atmosphere of this hill-country; and was not Jehovah the "God of the Hills?" Surely Hiram had heard Ben Yusef singing a psalm of worship as the morning dawned: "I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, whence cometh my help!"

Ben Yusef again and again indulged his curiosity in such questions of his guest as his sense of hospitality allowed. These Hiram cautiously answered. He admitted that he was from the coast; that he was in disguise and flight because of dissent from the doctrines of the Baalitish religion; that he had voluntarily reduced himself to the humble condition of a herdsman, rather than endure the degradation of his conscience.

To all this Ben Yusef responded with lofty and generous emotion. He eloquently told the story of ancient Israel; of the grand historic triumphs of Jehovah among his chosen people; of the great patriarchs; of the birth of his nation when, under Moses, the people had fled from Egypt; of the valor of the Judges; of the glory of the Kings; of the sins of the people in admitting Baalitish customs; of the Lord's heavy curse in selling the nation into captivity to Babylon; and of the return under permission of the Persians, the new masters of the world. He spoke, too, with prophetic rapture of the day that was sure to come, when a new King, greater than Solomon, the Lord's own gift to his people, would spread the nation from the Euphrates to the Great Sea; or, as their psalm had it, "from the river to the ends of the earth." The venerable man's face shone as he enlarged even that vision, and spoke of peace and righteousness filling all lands—even the fields breaking forth into singing.

The substance of this story of the Jews' land and people Hiram had heard before; but the old man's ardor impressed it with such vividness that the listener seemed to see the unrolling scroll of history merging into prophecy, and could not repress a feeling of the enthusiasm which the speaker conveyed with his words, his gestures, and his looks.

Two days passed. Hiram had recovered from the weakness, which came more from the shock of his emotions than from actual bruises. Ben Yusef read the thoughts of his guest as he would now and then suddenly start at some unusual sound, or hide within the inner room of the tent at the approach of any neighbor. His observant host guessed that the patient would be freer of heart if the day could be spent away from the possibility of meeting with men.

Hiram, therefore, as strength returned, eagerly accepted the proposal to accompany Ben Yusef in searching for some stray sheep upon the mountains. The bracing air and the exhilarating views tempted them on. They climbed the grand pinnacle of Safed. Here, nearly two thousand cubits towards the heavens, no one could follow without being observed. On the summit the old Jew gave wings to his memory and faith, as free and strong as the wings of the eagle that started from its eyrie on the crag. There, to the north, were the waters of Merom, by the shore of which Joshua smote Jabin, King of Hazor. There, to the south, stood Tabor, from behind which Deborah, the prophetess, with Barak for her captain, had deployed against Sisera, when the very stars swung from their courses, and beat the enemy with their baleful omens. Yonder, to the east, rose Carmel, a mighty altar of the Hebrew's faith, where Elijah had drawn fire from heaven to shame the priests of Baal. And there, far beyond, gleamed the waters of the Great Sea, making indentations upon the coast, but beaten back by the great docks of Tyre and Sidon, as Baalism washed away at times the true religion of Israel, but was beaten back by the valor and enterprise of God's true people. Down there, almost beneath their feet, shone the pearly surface of the inland Sea of Galilee, over which hung splendid prophecies yet to be fulfilled; for the great Isaiah had declared, "The land of Zabulon, and the land of Nephthalim, by the way of the sea, beyond Jordan, in Galilee of the nations. The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light: they that dwell in the land of the shadow of death, upon them hath the light shined."