Naomi

by Mrs. J. B. Webb

"Where shall I take you to, my sweet boy? I will fly to any cave or hole in the rocks to save you. If the assassins come this way we are lost. Salome, guide me to some safe spot, and let me not see my darling massacred before my face!"

The increasing sounds that issued from the house seemed to indicate that the combatants were approaching the entrance to the garden, and the affrighted group knew not in what direction to fly, until one of the domestics remembered that a small wicket in the garden wall opened into a narrow lane on the other side, and led to the gardens of some of the neighbouring houses. Mary had forgotten this outlet, which was seldom used, and was almost overgrown with the hanging branches of a vine; but she quickly caught at the idea, and ran to the spot, followed by all her companions. The bolts were withdrawn, and they all passed through into the dark street, and groped their way along, till Naomi having advanced before the rest, recognised a turn that led to her father's house. It was the same private entrance by which Hannah had teen admitted the preceding night, and by which also Naomi had so frequently passed out to wend her way to Bethany.

The discovery was hailed with joy, and in a few minutes the whole party were safely lodged in the house of Zadok.

The noise of their entrance brought Amaziah and his wife and son to inquire the cause of their hasty return; and on learning the act of violence which the Zealots had committed, Amaziah and Theophilus armed themselves, and went forth with some of their attendants to render all the assistance in their power. Claudia and her friend were rejoiced to see them returned from their visit to Bethany, and were eager to know how they had found Mary, and whether they had conveyed her away to the protection of Benjamin; but they could not gratify their curiosity until some time had passed in narrating the particulars of the scene of confusion from which they had just escaped. Then they drew Judith away from the rest of the party to Naomi's chamber, and learned from her that their venerable friend had rallied considerably since the last time she had seen her; and that finding how averse they all were to leave the city while she remained so unprotected at Bethany, she had consented to be removed to Benjamin's dwelling. She had however deferred the journey until the last evening previous to their departure; for she desired to remain in her own home as long as possible, and felt no apprehension of being molested so long as they were near to succour and defend her.

"You, my dear Naomi," continued her aunt, "shall accompany us to that beloved dwelling when we go on that night to bid her farewell, and give her up to the care of Benjamin. He will meet us there with a litter, and we shall have the happiness of knowing that our aged and declining friend will receive from him and his wife all the care and attention that she can require for the short remainder of her days. I will myself request your mother to consent to your going for the last time to see her to whom you owe so much; and even Javan, if he hears of it, can feel no surprise that you should wish to take leave of her before her death, as he knows that you visited her with Theophilus."

"I thank you, my dear aunt," said Naomi; "my heart is set upon beholding her again, and I have been talking to Claudia on the subject. She says that you have determined to leave Jerusalem in three days; and Mary can never survive until our return. But I am glad you have hastened your departure, for there is danger in your remaining here; and even now you may have tarried with us too long. I grieve to tell you that Claudia and I were so imprudent this evening as to talk aloud of all our hopes and fears and plans, in the garden of the house we have fled from. We thought we were far removed from every human ear, and we spoke freely; but alas! I fear we were overheard, for we saw some one glide cautiously away as we prepared to leave the spot where we were seated. I have learnt to be suspicious lately, and I would that you were all safe beyond the reach of those who wish you evil."

"I trust it will be so ere long," replied Judith. "I will apprise Amaziah of your apprehensions; and by proper precautions I hope we may yet escape all danger. Tell me what you had been saying, which you fear may have been overheard."

Naomi repeated the chief points of the conversation, only omitting that part which related to Marcellus; and Judith was greatly alarmed at finding that so much had been said, which, if repeated, would place them all in the power of their enemies. She did not, however, express all that she felt; and Salome's voice was heard calling Naomi to return to the cedar hall, as her father had just entered and inquired for her. She ran to meet him, and rejoiced to find that he and his friends had escaped unhurt from the combat. He informed them that the Zealots had been at length defeated, and driven back to their strongholds; but not until they had killed or wounded several of those who opposed their violence, and carried off a great quantity of plunder. The house of the lady of Bethezob was dismantled, and in such a state of confusion and havoc that it would be impossible for her to return that night; and he therefore invited her to remain under his roof until the wreck of her valuable household property could be arranged, and her own home prepared to receive her again. This was readily agreed to, and the rest of the fugitives having departed to their respective abodes, all was again restored to quietness. But what peace, what security could be felt in a city which was exposed to such scenes of outrage as that which had just been witnessed? Who could feel that their property or their lives were secure for an hour, while robbers and murderers could openly traverse the streets, and forcibly enter any house that offered temptation to plunder, unchecked by any legal power, and unchastised by any arm of justice?

It was an unprecedented state of society, and never may the world again behold its equal! It was civil war in its most dreadful form. The city held within its walls many conflicting parties, and each was animated by the most deadly feelings of hatred towards the others. Murder and rapine prevailed in every quarter, while religious zeal yet distinguished many individuals of each party. The blood of bulls and goats flowed in sacrifice from the altars that still remained uncleansed from the human gore that had been shed in the frequent combats within the temple. None moved through the streets unarmed or unattended; and a strong guard generally accompanied any female of distinction who was induced to venture far from home. And yet in the midst of all this crime and misery the wildest dissipation was carried on. It was not only in the house of Mary of Bethezob that feasts and revels were celebrated; the dwellings of numbers of the rich and gay sent forth the sounds of music and of mirth as loudly and as frequently as when Zion dwelt in peace, and none could harm them. Such thoughtless levity appears incomprehensible; but danger had become familiar to the inhabitants of Jerusalem, and they seemed heedless of the scenes of bloodshed that daily met their eyes. Is it not the same infatuation that now blinds the eyes of our fellow-sinners around us, who walk on in a course of sin and folly, and mark not the warnings that are vouchsafed to them by the Lord, and dread not the destruction into which they see their companions falling day by day?—a destruction more appalling and more lasting than the death and the miseries inflicted by the Zealot robbers of Jerusalem.

It was midnight before Javan returned to his father's house. When the lawless band had been expelled from Mary's house, and driven to their own abode in the temple courts, he was slowly proceeding homewards, and meditating on the period when he could safely summon the son of Gioras to enter the city, and take the lead among so many contending parties. He hoped that the presence of Simon would put an end to the lesser factions, and he determined to use every exertion to prepare the way for his reception. He was engaged with these reflections when his friend Isaac approached him, accompanied by a stranger in the garb of a domestic. The streets were dark, but the man carried a lamp, which threw its light on a countenance well suited to take a part in the bloody and vindictive scenes that characterized the time, and had already hardened the hearts of the greatest part of the inhabitants of Jerusalem.