XII
THE FORT OF THE ROCKS
At the bidding of Mattathias, the people passed hurriedly into the town. The stones of the street were torn up; some of them piled in heavy masses against the city gates; others carried to the walls, ready to be hurled down upon assailants. In vain did those returning from the knoll, where they had taken part in the heathen worship, seek admission. Their rapping and calls to their fellow-townsmen were answered by taunts. Mattathias insisted on their exclusion, lest there should be division in counsel and action, while he foresaw that there was no alternative other than fighting for their lives, or voluntarily surrendering themselves to the atrocities of the foe. A low wail of lamentation could be heard from hundreds of homes, like the murmur of a torrent. Now and then it broke into a sharp cry of defiance from maddened groups on the house-tops, as a torrent leaps and splashes high in air over some sharp obstacle that opposes its course.
The night that followed was one of fearful expectancy in Modin. The news of the assault upon the King's representative might bring the Greek soldiers, who were scattered along Bethhoron, in retaliatory vengeance. But the sentinels on the walls made no alarms. The next day the extemporized scouting parties reported no hostile movement. But it was certain that the authorities at Jerusalem would not long delay a blow which would vindicate their power, and the honor of the monarch.
In the little town all was confusion, for the inhabitants made preparations to migrate from their now insecure homes. The excitement increased as from the hills and valleys around their herdsmen hastily gathered the flocks, and drove them close to the city.
On the second night strange sounds floated everywhere through the darkness—the lowing of cattle, bleating of sheep, braying of asses, and the occasional grunt of camels resenting the unseemly hour of their lading. These moved eastward through the darkness, and later were followed by an exodus of the inhabitants from the town. Deborah noted the women, whose hands had scarcely lifted heavier weight than the distaff, now bowed beneath bulky loads of household stuff. Boys carried jars of provisions as big as themselves. Men, armed with swords, javelins, bows, and bludgeons, led the way, or deployed as guards on flank and rear of the unsteady column.
In the confusion little notice was taken of Deborah and Caleb, except as some one peered into their faces in the endeavor to identify them. They trudged along with a group of women and children, old men and cripples, whose slow pace excited impatience and an occasional unkind taunt from the stronger limbed.
In the company with Caleb hobbled a lad some years older than he. The feet of this boy were strangely malformed. Both were so twisted from their normal relation to his legs that his toes pointed very nearly backward. This infirmity and the weight of his heavy wooden sandals were, however, largely compensated for by the boy's muscular strength and alertness of faculty. With the aid of a stick, crotched at the upper end, he swung himself along the road and over obstacles in the fields which tangled legs better than his own. Only by the harsh words and cuffs of the men who were leading or guarding the multitude was the boy kept with the weaker folk. Now some sentinel, with hand to ear, pausing, and listening for the remotest sound of approaching soldiery, was startled by the rattling of the stones under the boy's feet and crutch. Now, again, he was hobbling along with the rear guard as valiantly as if his stick were the sword of Goliath of Gath.
Through the dim night the lame lad noticed that Caleb's gait was different from that of the others. His occasional stumbling and his clinging to his sister's hand excited the curiosity of his observer.
"Say, are you lame, too?" the strange boy asked.