“No.”
“By that sign then I answer, He has his power from God.”
It is not an easy thing to shake off in a moment the expectations nurtured through years until they have become essentially a part of us; and though Ben-Hur asked himself what the vanities of the world were to such a one, his ambition was obdurate and would not down.
He persisted as men do yet every day in measuring the Christ by himself.
How much better if we measured ourselves by the Christ!
Naturally, the mother was the first to think of the cares of life.
“What shall we do now, my son?
Where shall we go?”
Then Ben-Hur, recalled to duty, observed how completely every trace of the scourge had disappeared from his restored people; that each had back her perfection of person; that, as with Naaman when he came up out of the water, their flesh had come again like unto the flesh of a little child; and he took off his cloak, and threw it over Tirzah.
“Take it,” he said, smiling; “the eye of the stranger would have shunned you before, now it shall not offend you.”
The act exposed a sword belted to his side.
“Is it a time of war?” asked the mother, anxiously.
“No.”
“Why, then, are you armed?”
“It may be necessary to defend the Nazarene.” Thus Ben-Hur evaded the whole truth.
“Has he enemies?
Who are they?”
“Alas, mother, they are not all Romans!”
“Is he not of Israel, and a man of peace?”
“There was never one more so; but in the opinion of the rabbis and teachers he is guilty of a great crime.”
“What crime?”
“In his eyes the uncircumcised Gentile is as worthy favor as a Jew of the strictest habit.
He preaches a new dispensation.”
The mother was silent, and they moved to the shade of the tree by the rock.
Calming his impatience to have them home again and hear their story, he showed them the necessity of obedience to the law governing in cases like theirs, and in conclusion called the Arab, bidding him take the horses to the gate by Bethesda and await him there; whereupon they set out by the way of the Mount of Offence.
The return was very different from the coming; they walked rapidly and with ease, and in good time reached a tomb newly made near that of Absalom, overlooking the depths of Cedron.
Finding it unoccupied, the women took possession, while he went on hastily to make the preparations required for their new condition.
Chapter 5
Ben-Hur pitched two tents out on the Upper Cedron east a short space of the Tombs of the Kings, and furnished them with every comfort at his command; and thither, without loss of time, he conducted his mother and sister, to remain until the examining priest could certify their perfect cleansing.
In course of the duty, the young man had subjected himself to such serious defilement as to debar him from participation in the ceremonies of the great feast, then near at hand.
He could not enter the least sacred of the courts of the Temple.
Of necessity, not less than choice, therefore, he stayed at the tents with his beloved people. There was a great deal to hear from them, and a great deal to tell them of himself.
Stories such as theirs— sad experiences extending through a lapse of years, sufferings of body, acuter sufferings of mind— are usually long in the telling, the incidents seldom following each other in threaded connection.
He listened to the narrative and all they told him, with outward patience masking inward feeling.
In fact, his hatred of Rome and Romans reached a higher mark than ever; his desire for vengeance became a thirst which attempts at reflection only intensified.
In the almost savage bitterness of his humor many mad impulses took hold of him. The opportunities of the highways presented themselves with singular force of temptation; he thought seriously of insurrection in Galilee; even the sea, ordinarily a retrospective horror to him, stretched itself map-like before his fancy, laced and interlaced with lines of passage crowded with imperial plunder and imperial travellers; but the better judgment matured in calmer hours was happily too firmly fixed to be supplanted by present passion however strong. Each mental venture in reach of new expedients brought him back to the old conclusion— that there could be no sound success except in a war involving all Israel in solid union; and all musing upon the subject, all inquiry, all hope, ended where they began— in the Nazarene and his purposes.
At odd moments the excited schemer found a pleasure in fashioning a speech for that person:
“Hear, O Israel!
I am he, the promised of God, born King of the Jews— come to you with the dominion spoken of by the prophets.
Rise now, and lay hold on the world!”
Would the Nazarene but speak these few words, what a tumult would follow!
How many mouths performing the office of trumpets would take them up and blow them abroad for the massing of armies!
Would he speak them?
And eager to begin the work, and answering in the worldly way, Ben-Hur lost sight of the double nature of the man, and of the other possibility, that the divine in him might transcend the human.
In the miracle of which Tirzah and his mother were the witnesses even more nearly than himself, he saw and set apart and dwelt upon a power ample enough to raise and support a Jewish crown over the wrecks of the Italian, and more than ample to remodel society, and convert mankind into one purified happy family; and when that work was done, could any one say the peace which might then be ordered without hindrance was not a mission worthy a son of God?
Could any one then deny the Redeemership of the Christ?
And discarding all consideration of political consequences, what unspeakable personal glory there would then be to him as a man?
It was not in the nature of any mere mortal to refuse such a career.
Meantime down the Cedron, and in towards Bezetha, especially on the roadsides quite up to the Damascus Gate, the country filled rapidly with all kinds of temporary shelters for pilgrims to the Passover.
Ben-Hur visited the strangers, and talked with them; and returning to his tents, he was each time more and more astonished at the vastness of their numbers.