Naomi

by Mrs. J. B. Webb

"The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away, and blessed be the name of the Lord!" said he solemnly, as he entered the room; and a burst of uncontrollable grief was the only reply. But Amaziah did not long give way to this natural emotion; he knelt down in the midst of the group, who all followed his example; and in a tone of calmness, that astonished Zadok and Salome, he offered up fervent praises and thanksgivings that his dear son had now fought the good fight and finished his course, and had received the crown of glory laid up for him in heaven.

This done, he called his brother aside, and spoke to him on the subject that now weighed heaviest on his heart. The suggestion of Javan that the bodies of the prisoners should be burnt in the fires of Hinnom had been made known to him, and had occasioned additional misery both to him and Judith; and he requested Zadok to use all his influence with Javan and the other members of the council to obtain an order for the body of Theophilus to be restored to them, that they might have the satisfaction of burying it before they left the city. Zadok feared that his efforts to procure this indulgence would not be successful, but he readily promised to make the attempt; and immediately left the house in search of his son, who had not appeared to his family since the fatal sentence had been pronounced on the preceding day. He found him at the house of one of his colleagues; and the air of satisfaction that reigned on his countenance gave a bitter pang to the heart of his father.

"Javan," he said, in a tone which showed his own emotions, "the dreadful scene is over, and I can no longer plead for the life of our kinsman. He has paid the debt which perhaps was due to his offended country and violated religion; and I would to God that he were yet living to forsake his errors and redeem his character. It is passed—and henceforth never let us speak on this subject again. My object in now coming to you is to request, as a favour to myself, that the body of one who is so nearly connected to me may not be exposed to the indignity which forms part of the sentence pronounced upon him. You were the proposer of that additional cruelty, and doubtless you can obtain the reversion of the sentence, if not for all the criminals, yet at least in this single instance."

"My father," replied Javan, "I see that you also wrong me, and attribute to me a wanton cruelty that is not in my nature. I did not wish my cousin's death; it was his restoration to virtue and piety that I desired; and that being hopeless, no course remained but to allow the laws of our holy religion to be executed. I have but discharged my duty in removing the unclean thing from the camp of Israel, and sparing not my own flesh and blood when the honour of Jehovah required the sacrifice. I had expected that you, my revered father, would have applauded my zeal, and joined with me in purging out this dreadful heresy, whatever might be the cost. But since you blame me, I must stand alone, and my conscience bears me witness that I stand guiltless. As to your request for the body of my misguided cousin, it grieves me to deny it; but I have no power to change the sentence. It was passed by the assembled council, as a preventive to sacrilege and profaneness; and I cannot from personal considerations, demand the reversion of so wise and necessary a decree."

Zadok's brow grew dark. He had condescended to ask a favour from his son, instead of laying on him a command, which would have been more in accordance with Jewish manners, but which in Javan's case had long been found ineffectual. He had thrown off the paternal yoke whenever the obedience which was required was in opposition to his own views and principles; and though he respected and loved his father, he considered himself much more competent than Zadok to judge what line of conduct it was right to adopt. He saw that his father was frequently influenced by his kind and generous feelings to depart from the severe principles of his sect, and to lay aside the narrow views which generally governed the proud Pharisees of that period; while he prided himself on making every feeling and every interest give way to party spirit and religious bigotry. He had therefore learnt to treat his excellent and high-minded father as an equal, instead of looking up to him as the guide and example which in his earlier years it was his highest aim to follow and imitate. Zadok knew and felt all this, and he perceived that his son was now acting from motives which he did not entirely disclose, and which probably he thought his father would neither share nor duly estimate. He was convinced that Javan was not to be shaken by persuasion, and he spared himself the pain of a second refusal; but for Claudia's sake he made another request, which he felt sure could not be denied. He desired that Javan would send for the vest in which the corpse of Theophilus was still attired, and allow him to carry it back to his unhappy young friend, as a last relic of him whom she had loved so fervently. To this Javan readily consented, and requested his father to tarry in the house of his friend until he should return with the embroidered garment, as he imagined that he would not willingly go to gaze on the mangled remains of his beloved nephew. He was not long absent, and when he returned he placed in Zadok's hand the vest, which was stained with the blood of the noble victim. The priest looked at it with deep emotion, and then returned to his own now gloomy dwelling.

Claudia had not been informed of the degradation which was designed for the remains of the heroic band of prisoners, and therefore she knew nothing of the object for which Zadok had gone forth. But when he gave her the well-remembered vest which she had worked with so much delight, and which Theophilus had loved so much to wear, she thanked him with her tears for his kind consideration in procuring it for her, and pressed the sad relic to her heart, with a feeling that all her earthly hopes had flown away with the life-blood that stained it.

Javan did not come home that day. He knew from Reuben of everything that was going on in his father's house; but to the surprise of that artful and cold-blooded villain, he took no steps to prevent the departure of his uncle, and secure another victim to tyranny and fanaticism. Reuben marvelled at his employer's apathy; and had not Javan read his countenance, and suspected designs, he would have hurried away and betrayed Amaziah's movements to others of the council, who would not have scrupled to take advantage of such information, and perhaps to waylay and apprehend him. His destruction and that of his family had long been determined on by these men, who were so zealous for the law; and they hoped to execute their purpose at an early opportunity, never suspecting that Amaziah would leave the city so immediately after the catastrophe which had befallen him. Javan was, of course, not ignorant of these intentions; and he secretly rejoiced that they would be frustrated. Indeed it was owing to his contrivances that the warnings had been given to his uncle to lose no time; and he had said enough in his father's hearing to make him urge the instant departure of his relatives; and to prevent the possibility of Reuben's busy and intriguing spirit being exerted to thwart his private wishes for his uncle's escape, he kept him in his sight the whole of the day, and did not suffer him to speak to any person out of his hearing.

Thus, though Amaziah and his family knew it not, the same Javan who had caused all their anguish and woe was now engaged in securing their safety; and it was owing to his precautions, that when the last rays of the sun were gleaming on the summit of Mount Olivet, they passed quietly and undisturbed through the water-gate, and entered the valley of Jehosaphat, that ran along the eastern wall of the city, watered by the brook of Kedron, and filled with blooming gardens and fruitful orchards. This was not the way by which the travellers would naturally have quitted Jerusalem to proceed towards Joppa, as that city lay to the north-west; but they were unwilling to traverse the streets in order to reach the gate of the Upper Fountain, for they feared to expose themselves to observation. Therefore they passed along the valley until they came to the Tower of the Corner, when they took the road to Rama and Emmaus. They were a sad and silent party, and all were deeply absorbed in their own melancholy reflections. Even the servants and armed attendants felt so much respect and sympathy for their sorrow, that they spoke not, save in a whisper; and no sound was heard to break the stillness of the evening, except the measured tread of the mules that carried the litters and the baggage, and the horses on which Zadok and Amaziah rode. Naomi and Claudia travelled in the same conveyance; but Judith preferred being alone, that she might lift up her soul to God in freedom, and pour her griefs into the compassionate bosom of her Redeemer. It had been a severe trial to her, as well as to her husband and Claudia, to leave the place where all that remained of their beloved Theophilus yet rested; and when she found herself enclosed in the curtains of the litter, and hidden from every eye but that of her Heavenly Father, she gave a vent to her sorrow, which relieved her bursting heart. Salome had offered to accompany her to Joppa, with Zadok and Naomi, but Judith would not allow her to do so. Her health was delicate, and the late trying scenes had so powerfully affected her, that she was not equal to the journey, and she therefore remained at home with Mary and her lovely little boy, who were to abide in her house until the return of Zadok and her daughter. Javan too would be her protector and occasional companion, though his presence had ceased to give his mother the pleasure that once it did, since he had been the means of changing her happy home into a scene of anxious care and sorrow.

While Amaziah and his company were passing forth from Zadok's house, and descending the steep street that led to the water-gate, they heard the distant sound of rumbling wheels on the bridge that crossed the brook of Siloam above the pool, and led to the road that opened into the valley of Hinnom. Zadok and Amaziah turned a quick and anxious gaze behind them, and saw afar off two heavy carts, attended by armed guards, and followed by a vast concourse of persons. The distance and the fading light prevented their distinguishing what burden the vehicles bore, but they knew that they contained the relics of the good, the brave, and the dearly-loved, and they shuddered as they thought of their destination.

The valley of Hinnom lay to the south of the city, between Solomon's Pool and the Potter's Field. A stream ran through it, which flowed into the Kedron, and by the side of this rapid stream the smoke of constant fires was ever rising, and a hot and sickly vapour filled the air and rose to the hills on which the southern wall of Zion was built. In the shadow of that wall Javan was pacing to and fro, followed by Reuben, whom he still retained near him, until he could feel certain that his uncle was beyond the reach of his enemies. It would be difficult to say why Javan had chosen to resort to that spot at such a time. The loathsome valley was generally shunned by all who were not compelled by necessity to pass that way; and Javan had seldom visited the elevated terrace that overlooked it, and which but for this circumstance would have been a favourite and frequented walk. The view which this site commanded was noble and extensive, reaching over the varied and fertile plain to the Dead Sea and the mountains of Arabia Petræa, which form its eastern boundary, and embracing also the Hills of Judgment and Mount Olivet to the left. But it was not the beauty of this prospect that drew Javan thither on the present occasion. It was rather a strange desire to see the conclusion of a scene of horror and of woe, which had occupied his mind and filled him with gloomy and anxious thoughts for so many days and weeks. He had accomplished all his schemes against his unhappy cousin; but he was not happy—for with all his efforts he could not stifle his natural feelings so entirely as to be insensible to the sorrow which he had brought upon his family. He dreaded returning home to encounter the silent reproach of their tears; and almost unconsciously he wandered towards the valley of Hinnom, to excite still more his feelings of horror, by witnessing the last indignity that could be offered to the remains of the victims of fanaticism.