It was past midnight when he roused them, and the journey was resumed. Over hills and across ravines, avoiding the usual footpath, they toiled on, Jonathan carrying Caleb on his shoulder, and Deborah borrowing strength of limb from her indomitable spirit, until the stars faded in the dawning light.
XI
THE PRIEST'S KNIFE
Toward noon of the next day the party came near to the little city of Modin. They paused to take in the view from an adjacent hilltop. Far to the west glistened the waters of the Great Sea, bordered by the blazing yellow of the sand-dunes that divide that vast blue waste from the rich plains of Sharon. The brief chill of winter had not despoiled this fertile tract of the beauty in which the other seasons had arrayed it. Yonder glowed the white walls of Lydda, like a pearl in a setting of emerald. Many quiet villages looked out from beneath their brows of dusky olive-trees, and gardens sent their challenge of life to the gray limestone rocks which seemed to bind the hills in sterility.
At length Deborah's gaze was diverted from this fascinating view by a strange sight. A conical knoll rises before Modin. This was crowded with an excited multitude. The gay attire of some of the people proclaimed a festival, while the movements of others upon the outskirts of the crowd were rather suggestive of an angry mob than of a happy concourse. Upon the summit of the knoll stood an altar. It was made of wood, but painted to resemble ivory ornamented with bands of gold. Its graceful shape supported a basin or brazier of burning coals.
The altar was surrounded by a detachment of Greek soldiers mingled with a small group of civilians. These latter were of various races: Phœnicians from the coast, who happened to be detained in Modin by their business as traders; men of Moab and other strolling tribesmen from beyond the land of Judea, who had less contempt for the frivolous rites of the Greek than hatred of the severer worship of the Jews, which they were willing to see supplanted; Samaritans, whose kinsmen at Shechem had already obeyed the commands of Antiochus, and offered heathen sacrifice upon their temple heights of Gerizim; and renegade Jews, only too willing to believe that the new religion was favored of heaven, since its observance on their part brought them immunity from confiscation of goods and bodily harm. In the crowd were a score or more women, the camp-followers of the Greeks, whose tawdry finery afforded a rather pleasing contrast with the polished metal and stiff forms of the soldiers. All were crowned with sprigs of ivy, for the rite now in progress was in honor of Bacchus. Female flute-players, with skirts split to their thighs, led the dance, and were followed about by companies of half-drunken men and youths, who observed so much of the steps as their unsteady legs permitted.
Avoiding this crowd, Jonathan brought Deborah and Caleb near to the gate of the town. Here was a very different scene. The native populace swarmed under the shadow of the wall. It was evident that these people were of a temper utterly hostile to that which swayed the devotees about the altar of Bacchus. In the centre of this crowd stood an officer of the King. By his side was the herald, who had just completed reading a proclamation commanding all persons above twelve years of age to make an offering to Bacchus before the sun should set, under penalty of being put to death.