Ben-Hur took back the gift, and Balthasar, seeing the inquiry upon Ilderim’s face, related the occurrence at the Fountain.
“What!” said the sheik to Ben-Hur. “Thou saidst nothing of this to me, when better recommendation thou couldst not have brought.
Am I not an Arab, and sheik of my tribe of tens of thousands?
And is not he my guest?
And is it not in my guest-bond that the good or evil thou dost him is good or evil done to me?
Whither shouldst thou go for reward but here?
And whose the hand to give it but mine?”
His voice at the end of the speech rose to cutting shrillness.
“Good sheik, spare me, I pray.
I came not for reward, great or small; and that I may be acquitted of the thought, I say the help I gave this excellent man would have been given as well to thy humblest servant.”
“But he is my friend, my guest— not my servant; and seest thou not in the difference the favor of Fortune?”
Then to Balthasar the sheik subjoined,
“Ah, by the splendor of God!
I tell thee again he is not a Roman.”
With that he turned away, and gave attention to the servants, whose preparations for the supper were about complete.
The reader who recollects the history of Balthasar as given by himself at the meeting in the desert will understand the effect of Ben-Hur’s assertion of disinterestedness upon that worthy. In his devotion to men there had been, it will be remembered, no distinctions; while the redemption which had been promised him in the way of reward— the redemption for which he was waiting— was universal.
To him, therefore, the assertion sounded somewhat like an echo of himself.
He took a step nearer Ben-Hur, and spoke to him in the childlike way.
“How did the sheik say I should call you?
It was a Roman name, I think.”
“Arrius, the son of Arrius.”
“Yet thou art not a Roman?”
“All my people were Jews.”
“Were, saidst thou?
Are they not living?”
The question was subtle as well as simple; but Ilderim saved Ben-Hur from reply.
“Come,” he said to them, “the meal is ready.”
Ben-Hur gave his arm to Balthasar, and conducted him to the table, where shortly they were all seated on their rugs Eastern fashion.
The lavers were brought them, and they washed and dried their hands; then the sheik made a sign, the servants stopped, and the voice of the Egyptian arose tremulous with holy feeling.
“Father of All— God!
What we have is of thee; take our thanks, and bless us, that we may continue to do thy will.”
It was the grace the good man had said simultaneously with his brethren Gaspar the Greek and Melchior the Hindoo, the utterance in diverse tongues out of which had come the miracle attesting the Divine Presence at the meal in the desert years before.
The table to which they immediately addressed themselves was, as may be thought, rich in the substantials and delicacies favorite in the East— in cakes hot from the oven, vegetables from the gardens, meats singly, compounds of meats and vegetables, milk of kine, and honey and butter— all eaten or drunk, it should be remarked, without any of the modern accessories— knives, forks, spoons, cups, or plates; and in this part of the repast but little was said, for they were hungry.
But when the dessert was in course it was otherwise.
They laved their hands again, had the lap-cloths shaken out, and with a renewed table and the sharp edge of their appetites gone they were disposed to talk and listen.
With such a company— an Arab, a Jew, and an Egyptian, all believers alike in one God— there could be at that age but one subject of conversation; and of the three, which should be speaker but he to whom the Deity had been so nearly a personal appearance, who had seen him in a star, had heard his voice in direction, had been led so far and so miraculously by his Spirit?
And of what should he talk but that of which he had been called to testify?
Chapter 15
The shadows cast over the Orchard of Palms by the mountains at set of sun left no sweet margin time of violet sky and drowsing earth between the day and night.
The latter came early and swift; and against its glooming in the tent this evening the servants brought four candlesticks of brass, and set them by the corners of the table.
To each candlestick there were four branches, and on each branch a lighted silver lamp and a supply cup of olive-oil.
In light ample, even brilliant, the group at dessert continued their conversation, speaking in the Syriac dialect, familiar to all peoples in that part of the world.
The Egyptian told his story of the meeting of the three in the desert, and agreed with the sheik that it was in December, twenty-seven years before, when he and his companions fleeing from Herod arrived at the tent praying shelter.
The narrative was heard with intense interest; even the servants lingering when they could to catch its details.
Ben-Hur received it as became a man listening to a revelation of deep concern to all humanity, and to none of more concern than the people of Israel.
In his mind, as we shall presently see, there was crystallizing an idea which was to change his course of life, if not absorb it absolutely.
As the recital proceeded, the impression made by Balthasar upon the young Jew increased; at its conclusion, his feeling was too profound to permit a doubt of its truth; indeed, there was nothing left him desirable in the connection but assurances, if such were to be had, pertaining exclusively to the consequences of the amazing event.
And now there is wanting an explanation which the very discerning may have heretofore demanded; certainly it can be no longer delayed.
Our tale begins, in point of date not less than fact, to trench close upon the opening of the ministry of the Son of Mary, whom we have seen but once since this same Balthasar left him worshipfully in his mother’s lap in the cave by Bethlehem.
Henceforth to the end the mysterious Child will be a subject of continual reference; and slowly though surely the current of events with which we are dealing will bring us nearer and nearer to him, until finally we see him a man— we would like, if armed contrariety of opinion would permit it, to add— A man whom the world could not do without.