The hands snatching at him as he passed tore his garments from his back, so he ran off the road naked; and the gorge, in keeping of the friendly darkness, darker there than elsewhere, received him safe.
Reclaiming his handkerchief and outer garments from the orchard wall, he followed back to the city gate; thence he went to the khan, and on the good horse rode to the tents of his people out by the Tombs of the Kings.
As he rode, he promised himself to see the Nazarene on the morrow — promised it, not knowing that the unfriended man was taken straightway to the house of Hannas to be tried that night.
The heart the young man carried to his couch beat so heavily he could not sleep; for now clearly his renewed Judean kingdom resolved itself into what it was— only a dream.
It is bad enough to see our castles overthrown one after another with an interval between in which to recover from the shock, or at least let the echoes of the fall die away; but when they go altogether— go as ships sink, as houses tumble in earthquakes— the spirits which endure it calmly are made of stuffs sterner than common, and Ben-Hur’s was not of them.
Through vistas in the future, he began to catch glimpses of a life serenely beautiful, with a home instead of a palace of state, and Esther its mistress.
Again and again through the leaden-footed hours of the night he saw the villa by Misenum, and with his little countrywoman strolled through the garden, and rested in the panelled atrium; overhead the Neapolitan sky, at their feet the sunniest of sun-lands and the bluest of bays. In plainest speech, he was entering upon a crisis with which to-morrow and the Nazarene will have everything to do.
Chapter 9
Next morning, about the second hour, two men rode full speed to the doors of Ben-Hur’s tents, and dismounting, asked to see him.
He was not yet risen, but gave directions for their admission.
“Peace to you, brethren,” he said, for they were of his Galileans, and trusted officers. “Will you be seated?”
“Nay,” the senior replied, bluntly, “to sit and be at ease is to let the Nazarene die.
Rise, son of Judah, and go with us.
The judgment has been given.
The tree of the cross is already at Golgotha.”
Ben-Hur stared at them.
“The cross!” was all he could for the moment say.
“They took him last night, and tried him,” the man continued. “At dawn they led him before Pilate.
Twice the Roman denied his guilt; twice he refused to give him over.
At last he washed his hands, and said,
‘Be it upon you then;’ and they answered— ”
“Who answered?”
“They— the priests and people— ’His blood be upon us and our children.’”
“Holy father Abraham!” cried Ben-Hur; “a Roman kinder to an Israelite than his own kin!
And if— ah, if he should indeed be the son of God, what shall ever wash his blood from their children?
It must not be— ’tis time to fight!”
His face brightened with resolution, and he clapped his hands.
“The horses— and quickly!” he said to the Arab who answered the signal. “And bid Amrah send me fresh garments, and bring my sword!
It is time to die for Israel, my friends.
Tarry without till I come.”
He ate a crust, drank a cup of wine, and was soon upon the road.
“Whither would you go first?” asked the Galilean.
“To collect the legions.”
“Alas!” the man replied, throwing up his hands.
“Why alas?”
“Master”— the man spoke with shame— “master, I and my friend here are all that are faithful.
The rest do follow the priests.”
“Seeking what?” and Ben-Hur drew rein.
“To kill him.”
“Not the Nazarene?”
“You have said it.”
Ben-Hur looked slowly from one man to the other.
He was hearing again the question of the night before:
“The cup my Father hath given me, shall I not drink it?”
In the ear of the Nazarene he was putting his own question,
“If I bring thee rescue, wilt thou accept it?”
He was saying to himself,
“This death may not be averted.
The man has been travelling towards it with full knowledge from the day he began his mission: it is imposed by a will higher than his; whose but the Lord’s!
If he is consenting, if he goes to it voluntarily, what shall another do?”