Part 10 (1/2)
”I will leave it in the care of my kinsmen,” she replied.
”It may never be thine again,” warned the messenger.
”Hear me, O Christian!”, cried the mother pa.s.sionately ”I know not the Christians' G.o.d, but the Emperor Severus shall not take away my sons! I care not if he takes my home!”
”Come then with us,” answered the messenger. ”I trust thee! May the Christian's G.o.d cause thee to know Him!”
That day there pa.s.sed through Alexandria's streets a chariot drawn by two mules. Seated in the chariot a lady and a child rode in state. The charioteer was only a small lad.
Out of the city by the eastern gate, as they had pa.s.sed so many times before, Cocce and her mother rode. Who would hinder so devout wors.h.i.+pers of the G.o.ds from taking a pleasure drive? Alexandria knew nothing yet of Heraklas' defection.
When Alexandria was some distance behind, the lady spoke.
”Stop the chariot,” she commanded.
The young lad obeyed. The woman and child descended to the road.
”I would walk,” said the woman. ”Drive thou home again, and say thou naught. See, here is something for thee.”
She gave him some money.
The lad did as he was bidden. The mother of Heraklas had known whom to choose for her charioteer this day.
The chariot receded. It pa.s.sed out of sight. A distance away from the road, a man rose and beckoned. It was the messenger of the morning, disguised, as a beggar.
They went northerly toward the sea. The mother's straining eyes looked ever forward. How if the Christians had been discovered! How long the way was!
A faintness seized upon her as they neared the sea. What if her sons were not there? She hurried forward.
The sea splashed on the rocks at her feet. The salt splay blew in her face. They were not here! They were not here!
Out of the recesses of the rocks, some forms arose, and Heraklas, as in a dream, saw his mother, his proud mother--she who had burned incense to the sun, she who had once held the sacred sistrum in Amun's temple, she who had taught him to wors.h.i.+p Isis, and Osiris, and Horus, and the River Nile--his mother throw her arms about Timokles, and kiss his scarred cheek, and sob on the young Christian's neck, ”O my son, I have missed thee so! I have missed thee so!”
Some ten months later, on the desolate, uninhabited western sh.o.r.e of what the Hebrews called ”Yam Suph, the Sea of Weeds,” known now as the Red Sea, in the country spoken of by the Romans as part of Ethiopia, now named Nubia, a little company of Christians made ready their evening meal.
Down on the sh.o.r.e a little girl sang. Her voice rose exultantly in a hymn of the early Christians:
”Blessed art thou, O Lord; teach me thy judgments.
”O Lord, thou hast been a refuge for us from generation to generation.
”Thou, O Lord, have mercy upon us.
”Thou hast healed my soul in that I have sinned against thee.”
”O Lord, to thee I flee for refuge. Teach me to do thy will Because thou art my G.o.d; Because thou art the fountain of life In thy light shall we see light. Extend thy mercy to them that know thee.”
Timokles went toward the sh.o.r.e to call Cocce. As he returned, he saw his mother standing a little apart from the other Christians and gazing toward the northwest, in the direction of Egypt, as she had often gazed since the Christians took refuge here.