Part 27 (2/2)

He went forward and prostrated himself before the high altar, and the soft light hovered above him. The woman knelt at a little distance from him, with clasped hands and upturned eyes. The church was very dark and silent.

An old man in a monk's robe came forward out of the shadow of the choir and stood behind the marble rails and looked down at the boy's prostrate figure, wonderingly. Then the low gateway was opened and he descended the three steps and bent down to the young head.

”What wouldest thou?” he asked.

Simon Abeles rose until he knelt, and looked up into the old man's face.

”I am a Jew. I would be a Christian. I would be baptized.”

”Fearest thou not thy people?” the monk asked.

”I fear not death,” answered the boy simply.

”Come with me.”

Trembling, the woman followed them both, and all were lost in the gloom of the church. They were not to be seen, and all was still for a s.p.a.ce.

Suddenly a clear voice broke the silence.

”_Ego baptizo te in nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti._”

Then the woman and the boy were standing again without the entrance in the chilly air, and the ancient monk was upon the threshold under the carved arch; his thin hands, white in the darkness, were lifted high, and he blessed them, and they went their way.

In the moving vision the radiance was brighter still and illuminated the streets as they moved on. Then a cloud descended over all, and certain days and weeks pa.s.sed, and again the boy was walking swiftly toward the church. But the woman was not with him, and he believed that he was alone, though the messengers of evil were upon him. Two dark figures moved in the shadow, silent, noiseless in their walk, m.u.f.fled in long garments. He went on, no longer deigning to look back, beyond fear as he had ever been, and beyond even the expectation of a danger. He went into the church, and the two men made gestures, and spoke in low tones, and hid themselves in the shade of the b.u.t.tresses outside.

The vision grew darker and a terrible stillness was over everything, for the church was not opened to the sight this time. There was a horror of long waiting with the certainty of what was to come. The narrow street was empty to the eye, and yet there was the knowledge of evil presence, of two strong men waiting in the dark to take their victim to the place of expiation. And the horror grew in the silence and the emptiness, until it was unbearable.

The door opened and the boy was with the monk under the black arch.

The old man embraced him and blessed him and stood still for a moment watching him as he went down. Then he, also, turned and went back, and the door was closed.

Swiftly the two men glided from their hiding-place and sped along the uneven pavement. The boy paused and faced them, for he felt that he was taken. They grasped him by the arms on each side, Lazarus his father, and Levi, surnamed the Short-handed, the strongest and the cruellest and the most relentless of the younger rabbis. Their grip was rough, and the older man held a coa.r.s.e woollen cloth in his hand with which to smother the boy's cries if he should call out for help. But he was very calm and did not resist them.

”What would you?” he asked.

”And what doest thou in a Christian church?” asked Lazarus in low fierce tones.

”What Christians do, since I am one of them,” answered the youth, unmoved.

Lazarus said nothing, but he struck the boy on the mouth with his hard hand so that the blood ran down.

”Not here!” exclaimed Levi, anxiously looking about.

And they hurried him away through dark and narrow lanes. He opposed no resistance to Levi's rough strength, not only suffering himself to be dragged along but doing his best to keep pace with the man's long strides, nor did he murmur at the blows and thrusts dealt him from time to time by his father from the other side. During some minutes they were still traversing the Christian part of the city. A single loud cry for help would have brought a rescue, a few words to the rescuers would have roused a mob of fierce men and the two Jews would have paid with their lives for the deeds they had not yet committed. But Simon Abeles uttered no cry and offered no resistance. He had said that he feared not death, and he had spoken the truth, not knowing what manner of death was to be his. Onward they sped, and in the vision the way they traversed seemed to sweep past them, so that they remained always in sight though always hurrying on. The Christian quarter was pa.s.sed; before them hung the chain of one of those gates which gave access to the city of the Jews.

With a jeer and an oath the bearded sentry watched them pa.s.s--the martyr and his torturers. One word to him, even then, and the b.u.t.t of his heavy halberd would have broken Levi's arm and laid the boy's father in the dust. The word was not spoken. On through the filthy ways, on and on, through narrow courts and tortuous pa.s.sages to a dark low doorway. Then, again, the vision showed but an empty street and there was silence for a s.p.a.ce, and a horror of long waiting in the falling night.

Lights moved within the house, and then one window after another was bolted and barred from within. Still the silence endured until the ear was grown used to it and could hear sounds very far off, from deep down below the house itself, but the walls did not open and the scene did not change. A dull noise, bad to hear, resounded as from beneath a vault, and then another and another--the sound of cruel blows upon a human body. Then a pause.

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