Naaman waved aside the explanation. “Few maidens are unwilling to smile upon a soldier, but it mattereth not,” he said with finality. “I should not expect from thee the wisdom of age. I do not expect it. But go now and make what preparations are necessary, for to-morrow, at the fourth hour, we present ourselves before this prophet of Jehovah for my healing. The mouth of the king hath spoken it.”
Other mouths, both within and without the palace, took up the words and repeated them until, between excitement and curiosity, Samaria slept badly that night. The next morning, at the hour appointed, the narrow streets of the city were packed with humanity as the Syrian embassy wended its slow and stately way to the house of the Man of God.
In front rode several dignitaries in chariots representing King Jehoram. Next came Isaac on horseback, attended by his servant and a soldier or two who preceded the chariot of Naaman. The Syrian bodyguard, who followed, were escorted by the flower of the Israelitish army. In the rear came the pack-animals, their picturesque drivers, and a few more soldiers. It was a civil and not a military procession, and the splendor and dignity of both countries were represented. Amid gaping crowds the company came to a halt before the House of Elisha. Slowly and as if in expectation of their arrival, the gate opened. The moment was tense with expectancy. As a mark of respect to the prophet all dismounted, including Naaman, but it was not Elisha. It was his servant, Gehazi, with a message:
“Thus saith the Man of God: ‘Go wash in the Jordan seven times, and thy flesh shall come again to thee and thou shalt be clean.’”
All eyes were turned upon Naaman, who flushed crimson with rage and disappointment. The Jordan indeed! The muddy, swift-flowing, treacherous Jordan! Contrast it with the clear, sparkling waters of the Abana and Pharpar back in Syria! If all he needed was to dip in some river, he much preferred those at home. They were, at least, less repulsive than this boasted stream in a foreign land. Were they not better than all the rivers of Israel? And the idea of sending a servant with the message! Why did not the prophet himself come out, and stand, and call upon the name of his God in the spectacular manner of the East? Why did he not strike his hand over the diseased flesh and effect a cure with all the ceremony it was natural to expect? The meanest servant could have hoped for nothing less than such treatment as he, Naaman, had received. To put the most charitable construction upon the act, the prophet had evidently not understood the position held by his visitor, else he would have acted more in accordance with the customs of the day. Nevertheless he, Naaman, had not come all the way to Israel to be treated discourteously, slightingly; to be mocked and ridiculed. The long and painful journey had been worse than useless. They would return whence they had come and woe to Israel when Ben-hadad heard!
The Syrian embassy whispered among themselves. The elders of the city and the dignitaries from the palace held a brief parley and then approached Naaman with an air of dismayed humility, with apology and almost with entreaty, but the outraged visitor was conscious only of the insult put upon him. In the face of his anger all of Isaac’s diplomacy served only to ruffle his feelings the more and to make the efforts of the young interpreter and servant appear ridiculous in the eyes of those who saw the futility of anything but surrender to the exasperating circumstances. The king’s representatives were thoroughly alarmed. In a few days, perhaps, when the wrath of their mighty visitor had cooled, he might be persuaded to try the remedy, which appeared even to them as questionable, if not absurd. If he did not care to be reasonable, or if the prescription failed, then, indeed, the last state of this miserable affair would be worse than the first. Years ago King Ahab had had Ben-hadad at his mercy; Israel had put her foot upon Syria’s neck, but since then other wars had changed entirely the complexion of Eastern politics.[4]
It was a crestfallen party which took its slow departure from the prophet’s house. Even the horses seemed to feel the general air of gloom and walked less proudly. Isaac, chagrined at this unexpected turn of affairs, heard not the comments of his companions, saw not the jostling and awe-struck throngs, cared not for his master’s ire. He was conscious only that back in Syria was a maid with the light of happy expectancy in her eyes and it must not be dimmed! He resolved it fiercely, striving to consider the situation as calmly as possible. For Miriam’s sake, considerations of self were obliterated. Into the struggle he threw his all, risking his future and the favor of his impulsive master. At a turn into the wider street which led to the palace, Naaman, with uncooled wrath, commanded greater speed, but Isaac, turning, wheeled his horse directly in the path of the chariot, thus halting the entire company.
The anger in his master’s eye was like a drawn sword, but love for Miriam was like a shield, warding off the thrusts. His voice slightly trembled but he held his ground: “My father, if the prophet had bid thee do some great thing, wouldst thou not have done it? How much rather when he saith to thee, ‘Wash and be clean’?”
Naaman, the bluff man of moods, at first irritated at such daring, gradually became aware that he admired it. He himself had experienced great moments and high courage. And there was no selfishness in the plea. Isaac was asking for nothing which could benefit him personally. Naaman looked at the straight, young figure, at the earnest face, at the yearning affection in the eyes. “My father,” he had said. Naaman felt the charm of deference from youth to age; the tribute of regard from man to master; the acknowledgment of respect from an inferior. “If the prophet had bid thee do some great thing, wouldst thou not have done it?” He would. He was keyed up to any effort. That was wherein lay the disappointment. “How much rather when he saith to thee, ‘Wash and be clean’?” The logic appealed to Naaman’s sense of justice. Why not indeed? It could but fail as had everything else. Why take all this trouble and then refuse to do the thing recommended?
The king’s representatives looked on in amazement. Who and what was this youthful interpreter and courtier that he dared speak words of remonstrance and exhortation to this powerful foreigner? That he was doing just this was evident even though the language used left the exact sentences in doubt. The Syrian soldiery held its breath in wonder, uncertain whether to admire Isaac’s bravery or condemn his temerity. They would decide according to the outcome. Naaman’s expression passed through a series of changes and took on the cool matter-of-fact.