"No," John said earnestly, "there would have been mourning. You may be sure that Vespasian would have avenged his blood upon all the people. It would have been a misfortune, indeed, had t.i.tus fallen.

It is well that it ended as it did."

John was, however, far too weak to be able to accompany his band upon its rapid marches; and therefore, for a time, resigned its command to one of his captains. He determined to go, until his strength returned to him, to a small community of which he had heard as dwelling in an almost inaccessible valley on the sh.o.r.e of the Dead Sea. He was told that they took no part in the commotion of the times, and that they lived in such poverty that even the robbers of Simon had not cared to interfere with them. They practiced hospitality to strangers, and spent their lives in religious observances. As John had often heard from his father of this sect--which was at one time numerous in the land, but had been sorely persecuted by the priests and Pharisees--he determined to stop for a time among them, and learn somewhat of their doctrines.

Accompanied by Jonas, he made his way across the mountains to the valley where they dwelt. As wounded, and a stranger, he was received without question among them; and a little hut, similar to that in which they all lived, was placed at his disposal. These huts were ranged in a square, in the center of which stood a larger building, used as their synagogue. Here John remained nearly a month; and was greatly struck by their religious fervor, the simplicity and austerity of their lives, and the doctrines which they held. He learned that the more rigorous of the sect abstained, altogether, from the use of meat and wine; and that celibacy was strictly enjoined. Those who married did not separate themselves from the sect, but were considered as occupying an inferior position in it. Their food was of the simplest kind, and only sufficient to sustain life. The community raised the grain and vegetables necessary for their use.

But it was the religious doctrines which they held which most greatly surprised John. They attached no importance, whatever, to the ceremonial law of the Jewish Scriptures; maintaining, in the first place, that the Scriptures had a spiritual signification wholly apart from the literal meaning, alone understood by the world; and that this spiritual meaning could only be attained by those who, after long probation, were initiated into the inner mysteries of the sect.

In the second place, they held that the written law had been altogether superseded by the coming of the great prophet, Christ, who had been put to death by the Jewish priests. John learned that there were already large numbers of Jews who had accepted the doctrines taught by this Christ, although they did not all embrace the strict rules and modes of life of the ascetics. John was greatly struck with their doctrines, although he did not hear enough to do more than to dimly understand their meaning. He determined however that, if he went safely through the war, he would inquire further into these mysteries.

At the end of the four weeks, his strength being comparatively restored, he took his leave of the community, and rejoined his band.

Chapter 13: The Test Of Devotion.

Although John was able to join his companions, he was still far from strong; and was glad to have a valid excuse for handing over his command to his lieutenant, and returning home. The campaign was nearly over; and he could not have followed those rapid marches through the hills which enabled the band to appear, now on one side, now on the other of the Romans, and to keep them in a constant state of watchfulness.

At the same time, he was glad of the excuse to leave for, although he had declared to t.i.tus that he would fight again in defense of Jerusalem, he felt that, after the kind treatment he had met with, he could not take part in the daily skirmishes with the Romans.

Mounting a donkey, which was among the many animals captured in the attacks upon the Romans' baggage train, John bade adieu to his comrades; and with Jonas, now grown into a st.u.r.dy young fellow, started for home. He journeyed by the road to the west of Jerusalem, in order to avoid the bandits of Simon son of Gioras; who still scourged the neighborhood of Masada and Herodium, lying between Jerusalem and the Dead Sea. He avoided all the towns in which there were Roman garrisons; for the bandages on his head would have shown, at once, that he had been engaged in fighting. He traveled slowly, and was six days before he arrived home.

"This time, my son, you have not come home unharmed," Simon said.

"Truly you are a shadow of your former self."

"I shall soon be strong again, father; and these are honorable scars, for I had them in single combat with t.i.tus, himself, in the valley between Hebron and Carmelia."

"Then how is it that you live to tell the tale, my son?" Simon asked, while exclamations of wonder broke from Mary and Martha.

"Surely G.o.d did not deliver him into your hands?"

"I wish not to boast, father, and I have told the true story to none; but truly G.o.d did deliver him into my hands."

"And he is dead?" Simon exclaimed.

"No, father, he lives, for I spared him."

"Spared him!" Simon exclaimed. "What, you did not avenge the miseries of our people upon the son of the oppressor?"

"No, father; and I rejoice that I did not for, had I done so, surely the Romans would have avenged his death upon all the land.

But I thought not of that, at the time. I was sore wounded, and bleeding, and my sense was well-nigh gone; but as I knelt upon him, and lifted my hand to slay him, a thought--surely sent by G.o.d, himself--came into my mind, and I said:

"'Swear by your G.o.ds that you will spare the Temple, or I slay you;' and he swore that, so far as lay in his power, he would spare the Temple."

An exclamation of joy burst from his hearers, and Simon said:

"Verily, my son, G.o.d has raised you up as a deliverer of his Temple; not, as some hoped, by defeating our oppressors, but by binding one of their mightiest ones to do it no harm."

"I pray, father, say naught of this to anyone. It is between ourselves, and t.i.tus, and the Lord; and I would not that any man should know of it. Moreover, t.i.tus behaved with the greatest generosity to me.

"My victory over him was but a surprise. I was sorely wounded, while he was almost unharmed, when I sprang upon him and, by the sudden impulse, threw him to the ground, he being burdened with his heavy armor I had but strength to hear him swear, and then I fell as one dead. t.i.tus might have slain me, as I lay; but he not only did me no harm but, when his soldiers came up, he gave me into their care, and directed me to be carried down to his camp, placed in a tent, and tended by his own leech and, when I recovered, he let me go free."

"Truly it is a marvelous tale, John. That you should have fallen into the hands of the Romans, and come forth unharmed after discomfiting their leader, is as marvelous to me as Daniel coming unharmed from the lions' den. We will say naught of your story, my son. Tell us only what you told your own companions, so that we may know what to say, when we are questioned."

"I told them the truth, father, although not all the truth. I said that I met t.i.tus, and fought with him; that I wounded him somewhat; but that, by virtue of his armor, I did him no great harm, while he wounded me so seriously that I fell down as one dead; that he, feeling that I had fought like a brave foeman, had me carried to his tent, and tended and cared for until I was able to go forth; when he sent me away free, and unharmed."

"Truly men say of t.i.tus that he is clement and merciful, and therein differs much from Vespasian his father; and the clemency which he showed to the people of Gischala, and other places which he has taken, proves that is so; but this deed of his to you shows that he must have a great heart, for few men of rank, and warlike fame, who had been discomfited by one yet scarce a man, but would have left him by the road to die, so that none might know what had happened."

"t.i.tus made no secret of it, father," John said. "He told Josephus, in my hearing, that I had spared his life. He said naught of the oath which he had taken; but I know that he will keep it as far, as he said, lies in his power."

"What is he like?" Mary asked.

"He is not of very tall stature, but stoutly built, and strong. His face--clean shaved, as is their custom--has a pleasant and kindly expression, that tallies with his disposition, for he is greatly beloved by his soldiers. In action they say he is brave to rashness, quick to anger, but as quickly appeased. Had he been in command of the Roman legions, they would have been not less formidable in the fight and, perhaps, when the pa.s.sions of t.i.tus were roused, not less savage; but they would not have wrought such wholesale cruelty and destruction as they have done."

"It is rarely that pity enters into the heart of a Roman," Simon said; "and yet, it is hardly for us to complain for, when we crossed over the Jordan and conquered Canaan, we put all to the sword, and spared none. It may be that in future times, if wars do not altogether cease in the world, they will be waged in another spirit; but so far, from the commencement of the world until now, it has ever been the same--war has brought desolation and destruction upon the vanquished."

The next morning John went early into the garden; not that he was strong enough for heavy work, but in order that Mary might, as usual, join him there.

"Do you know, John," she said, after their first greeting, "you have made me happier than I have been, for some time."

"How is that, Mary?"

"It seemed to me, John, that you were getting away from me."

"Getting away, Mary!" he repeated; "how do you mean?"

"You were becoming a great leader, John. I was proud that it should be so, proud to think that you might become a deliverer of the nation; and then it would have been meet and right that you should take to yourself, as a wife, a daughter of one of the great ones of the land."

"Mary!" John exclaimed, indignantly.

"It might have been necessary, John. The tillers of the soil can marry where they please. Those who have power must wed for other reasons than that of love. They must make alliances that will strengthen their position, and it would have been your duty to have sacrificed your love for the sake of your country. I should have been the first to bid you do so. I should have been content to make my sacrifice, too, on the altar of our country; content with knowing that you, the deliverer of Israel, would have chosen me from among all other women, had you only had your own pleasure and happiness to consult.

"But after what you told us yesterday, I think, perhaps, that this need not be so; and that the way in which you were to save the Temple was not the way we thought. Your mission has been fulfilled--not by great victories, which would have made you the hero of Israel--but in that contest in the valley, where no eyes but those of G.o.d beheld you; and should the Temple be saved, no one will know that you were its savior, save we who love you.

Therefore, John, once again I can look forward to the time when you and I can dwell, together, in the house of your fathers."

Mary was so earnest that John did not attempt to laugh her out of her fancies, as was his usual way. He only said, quietly:

"Perhaps you are right, Mary, as to my mission; but I do not think, dear, that even had I been made ruler of Israel, I would have gone elsewhere for a wife; but as you say, circ.u.mstances might have been too strong for me and, at any rate, I am well pleased that there is no chance of my happiness being set in one scale, and the good of my country in another."

"And now, John, I believe that you will come back to me, even if Jerusalem falls. This is the third time your life has been spared and, if we count that day when we were so nearly drowned together on the lake, we may say that four times your life has been saved, when it seemed all but lost; and I believe, now, that it will be saved to the end."

"I hope for your sake, Mary, and for my father and mother's, that it may be so. I have so much to make my life happy that I will a.s.suredly do all in my power to save it. As you know, I have never held with those who would destroy themselves, when all seemed lost.

My idea is: a man should fight until the last; but should, if possible, provide some way of escape, when fighting is no longer of avail.

"Fortunately, if I do not fall in battle, I have a talisman which will bring me safe to you. t.i.tus has given me a signet ring which will, at all times, procure me access to him. He has promised that, at all times, he will be my friend and, should I fall into the hands of his soldiers again, he will let me go free, and will give me the lives of any who may be dear to me."

"This t.i.tus must be a n.o.ble enemy," Mary said, with tears in her eyes. "He is strong, and kind, and generous. Had such a man been raised up as the leader of our people, instead of the leader of our foes, how different it might have been!"