The women gazed at each other without reply.
“You have not heard of him?”
“No.”
“Well, tell everybody that we have seen his star in the east, and are come to worship him.”
Thereupon the friends rode on.
Of others they asked the same question, with like result.
A large company whom they met going to the Grotto of Jeremiah were so astonished by the inquiry and the appearance of the travellers that they turned about and followed them into the city.
So much were the three occupied with the idea of their mission that they did not care for the view which presently rose before them in the utmost magnificence: for the village first to receive them on Bezetha; for Mizpah and Olivet, over on their left; for the wall behind the village, with its forty tall and solid towers, superadded partly for strength, partly to gratify the critical taste of the kingly builder; for the same towered wall bending off to the right, with many an angle, and here and there an embattled gate, up to the three great white piles Phasaelus, Mariamne, and Hippicus; for Zion, tallest of the hills, crowned with marble palaces, and never so beautiful; for the glittering terraces of the temple on Moriah, admittedly one of the wonders of the earth; for the regal mountains rimming the sacred city round about until it seemed in the hollow of a mighty bowl.
They came, at length, to a tower of great height and strength, overlooking the gate which, at that time, answered to the present Damascus Gate, and marked the meeting-place of the three roads from Shechem, Jericho, and Gibeon.
A Roman guard kept the passage-way.
By this time the people following the camels formed a train sufficient to draw the idlers hanging about the portal; so that when Balthasar stopped to speak to the sentinel, the three became instantly the centre of a close circle eager to hear all that passed.
“I give you peace,” the Egyptian said, in a clear voice.
The sentinel made no reply.
“We have come great distances in search of one who is born King of the Jews.
Can you tell us where he is?”
The soldier raised the visor of his helmet, and called loudly.
From an apartment at the right of the passage an officer appeared.
“Give way,” he cried, to the crowd which now pressed closer in; and as they seemed slow to obey, he advanced twirling his javelin vigorously, now right, now left; and so he gained room.
“What would you?” he asked of Balthasar, speaking in the idiom of the city.
And Balthasar answered in the same,
“Where is he that is born King of the Jews?”
“Herod?” asked the officer, confounded.
“Herod’s kingship is from C?sar; not Herod.”
“There is no other King of the Jews.”
“But we have seen the star of him we seek, and come to worship him.”
The Roman was perplexed.
“Go farther,” he said, at last. “Go farther.
I am not a Jew.
Carry the question to the doctors in the Temple, or to Hannas the priest, or, better still, to Herod himself.
If there be another King of the Jews, he will find him.”
Thereupon he made way for the strangers, and they passed the gate.
But, before entering the narrow street, Balthasar lingered to say to his friends,
“We are sufficiently proclaimed.
By midnight the whole city will have heard of us and of our mission.
Let us to the khan now.”
Chapter 13
That evening, before sunset, some women were washing clothes on the upper step of the flight that led down into the basin of the Pool of Siloam. They knelt each before a broad bowl of earthenware.
A girl at the foot of the steps kept them supplied with water, and sang while she filled the jar.
The song was cheerful, and no doubt lightened their labor.
Occasionally they would sit upon their heels, and look up the slope of Ophel, and round to the summit of what is now the Mount of Offence, then faintly glorified by the dying sun.
While they plied their hands, rubbing and wringing the clothes in the bowls, two other women came to them, each with an empty jar upon her shoulder.
“Peace to you,” one of the new-comers said.
The laborers paused, sat up, wrung the water from their hands, and returned the salutation.
“It is nearly night— time to quit.”
“There is no end to work,” was the reply.
“But there is a time to rest, and— ”
“To hear what may be passing,” interposed another.
“What news have you?”
“Then you have not heard?”
“No.”