Her brief but momentous interview with Maccabeus had left a very

painful impression upon the mind of Zarah. It had disclosed, to her

distress as well as surprise, the depth of the wound which she was

inflicting upon a loving heart; for Zarah had none of that miserable

vanity which makes the meaner of her sex triumph in their power of

giving pain. Zarah's apprehensions were also awakened on account of

Lycidas; she could not but fear that very serious obstacles might arise

to prevent her union with the Greek. Generous as Maccabeus might be,

it was not in human nature that he should favour the claims of a rival;

and determined opposition from her kinsman and prince must be

annihilation to the hopes of the maiden. There would be in many Jewish

minds prejudices against an Athenian; Zarah was aware of this, though

not of the intense hatred to which such prejudices might lead. The

short interview held with Maccabeus had sufficed to cover Zarah's

bright sky with clouds, to darken her hopes, to distress her

conscience, to make her uneasily question herself as to whether she

were indeed erring by giving her heart to a stranger. Had she really

spoken truth when she had said, "Hadassah would not have blamed us?"

But when Anna, pale with excitement, brought tidings to her young

mistress that the Hebrews were marching to battle, when Zarah heard

that the decisive hour had come on which hung the fate of her country,

and with it that of Lycidas, all other fears yielded for a time to one

absorbing terror. On her knees, with hands clasped in attitude of

prayer, yet scarcely able to pray, Zarah listened breathlessly to the

fearful sounds which were borne on the breeze--the confused noises, the

yells, the shouting--which brought vividly to her mind all the horrors

of the scene passing so near her. It was not needful for her to look

on the raging torrent of war; imagination but too readily pictured the

streams of opposing warriors, like floods from opposite mountains,

mingling and struggling together in a wild whirlpool of death; chariots

dragged by maddened horses over gory heaps of the slain--the flight of

hurtling arrows--the whirl of the deadly axe--the crash--the cry--the

rush--the retreat--the rally--the flashing weapons, now dimmed with

blood;--Zarah in thought beheld them all, and covered her eyes with

horror, as if by so doing she could shut out the sight.

For hours this agony lasted. The excitement of conflict may bear brave

hearts through a battle with little sense of horror and none of fear;

warriors, even the generous and humane, can see and do things in hot

blood, from which their souls would revolt in calmer moments; but the

woman whose earthly happiness is on the cast of the die, who cannot

shield the being dearest to her upon earth from the crushing blow or

the deadly thrust, to her the day of battle is one of unmixed anguish;

suspense is agony, and yet she dreads to exchange that suspense for

knowledge which might bring agony more intolerable still.

The maiden found some slight alleviation of her distress in the

occupation in which she and her handmaid engaged, that of making such

preparations as circumstances permitted for the comfort of the wounded,

though they knew too well that if the Syrians should win the day, there

would be no wounded Hebrews to tend--the conqueror's sword would too

thoroughly do its hideous work.

Judas Maccabeus had displayed his accustomed judgment in choosing to be

himself the assailant, instead of awaiting the assault of the myrmidons

of Syria. His sudden, unexpected attack threw the enemy into some

confusion, and gave an advantage in the commencement of the battle to

the slender forces of the Hebrew prince. His men rushed to the

conflict as those assured of success. Had they not measured swords

with the warriors of Apollonius and Seron, and more recently those of

Bacchides? Had they not scattered the thousands of Nicanor, and made

Giorgias seek safety in ignominious retreat? Was not Maccabeus their

leader, and saw they not the light flashing from his helmet in the

fore-front of the battle? Yet was the struggle obstinate; and when the

Syrians were at last forced to retire before the Hebrew heroes, a

number of the troops of Lysias threw themselves into the fortress of

Bethsura, to rally their forces behind its walls, and gather strength

to renew the combat on the following day.

But it was no part of the plan of their active adversary to leave such

a rallying-point to the Syrians, or suffer them from thence to harass

his rear, should he press onwards towards Jerusalem. His victory must

not be incomplete, Bethsura must be his ere darkness should put an end

to the conflict.

"See you yon Syrian banner waving from the tower," cried

Maccabeus,--"who will be the first to tear it down?"

He was answered by a shout from his men. "To the walls! to the walls!"

as the Hebrews pressed hard upon their retreating foes.

Bethsura was not a place of much strength, though the height of its

towers gave to their defenders the power to annoy and distress

assailants with a shower of arrows and other missiles as they rushed to

the assault. Maccabeus, foreseeing that Bethsura itself must become

the scene of the closing struggle, had had scaling-ladders in

readiness, roughly constructed by his own men from trees hewn down by

their battle-axes. With cries and shouts these were now borne onwards

towards the bulwarks of Bethsura, and notwithstanding the fierce

opposition of the Syrians, two of them were planted against the wall.

Who would mount them, who would be the first to climb upwards through

the death-shower of darts, the first to meet the fierce downward blows

and thrusts of those who stood to the defence of the beleaguered


Lycidas had borne himself bravely in the battle, he had well maintained

the honour of the land that had withstood the gigantic power of Xerxes;

now his foot was the first on one of the ladders. It was a perilous

moment. The rough spar, with branches fastened transversely at

intervals across it, on which Lycidas was mounting (for the ladder was

little more than this), swayed backwards and forwards with the struggle

between those above to fling it down, and those below to sustain it,

and it was with extreme difficulty that the climber could keep his

footing. Stones and arrows rattled on the shield which the young Greek

held with one arm above his head, as he used the other in climbing; but

Lycidas neither flinched nor paused.

"Well done--bravely done!" shouted the Hebrews who were rushing on from


"He is no Gentile, though he be a Greek!" cried the wild shrill voice

of Jasher; "onwards, upwards, warriors of Judah! one struggle more, and

Bethsura is ours!"

Almost at the top of the ladder, almost close to the wall, gasping,

straining, bleeding, struggles on the young Greek. A stone strikes his

shield, smashes it, stuns, disables the left arm which upheld it; slain

by a dart, the Hebrew just behind him falls crashing from the ladder!

The brain of Lycidas is dizzy, his ears are filled with wild clamour,

he is conscious only that honour and most probably death are before

him, still he mounts, he mounts! Two powerful Syrians have seized the

upper end of the ladder; with an effort of gigantic strength they

thrust it back from the supporting wall with its living burden of

clambering men, all but one, the foremost! Lycidas feels the ladder

beneath him failing, with a tremendous effort of agility he springs as

it falls at the wall, catches hold of it with his right hand, and

flings himself up on the parapet. But not one moment's breathing-space

is given him to start to his feet, or grasp the sword which he has

carried hung round his neck. He cannot rise, he cannot resist; swords

are gleaming above him; those who have thrown down the ladder seize the

Greek to hurl him after it! A thought of Zarah flashes across the

reeling brain of the young man, is it not his last?--no, a broad shield

is suddenly thrust between Lycidas and his assailants, they shrink back

from the sweep of a terrible sword; up the other ladder the strong and

brave have pressed with irresistible force; Judas Maccabeus himself has

planted his foot on the bulwarks, has driven back step by step their

defenders before him, and has arrived at this crisis in the fate of

Lycidas to preserve for the third time the life of his rival!

The banner of Maccabeus is planted on the highest tower of Bethsura,

and as it waves in the light of the evening sun, such a loud wild shout

of triumph rises from the victors, as might be heard for miles around!

It reaches Zarah in her hut, and sends a thrill of hope and exultation

through her heart, for she knows the shout of her people, and none but

conquerors could have rent the air with such a cheer as that! It is

followed by the cry "Jerusalem, Jerusalem!" as from the Hebrew heroes,

in that their hour of success, bursts that name of all earthly names

most dear to the sons of Israel! Jerusalem, their mother, will be

free, her liberty from a galling yoke will be the crowning reward of

their labours and perils, no foe will now dare to oppose the

conqueror's onward march towards the holy city.

Maccabeus joins in the shout, and shares in the exultation; he tramples

his own private griefs under his feet, that they may cast no gloom over

the triumph which God has vouchsafed to the arms of his people. The

prince raises his helmed head and his victorious right arm towards

heaven, and cries aloud, not with pride, but with glad thanksgiving,

"Behold! our enemies are discomfited! Let us go up to cleanse and

dedicate the sanctuary of Zion!"

Besieged By Starvation Big Chief's Conquest facebooktwittergoogle_plusredditpinterestlinkedinmail