A King of Tyre: A Tale of the Times of Ezra and NehemiahLudlow, James M. (James Meeker)
History
A King of Tyre: A Tale of the Times of Ezra and Nehemiah
Ludlow, James M. (James Meeker)
Jewish fiction; Jews -- History -- 586 B.C.-70 A.D. -- Fiction; Tyre (Lebanon) -- Fiction
Upon the return of the couriers the priests held counsel. They judged
that there could be no doubt of the suicide. Her letter to her father
proved it. Or if she fell not by her own hand, her maid was only an
accomplice, and executed her mistress's purpose. The honor of the
goddess demanded some disgrace to be shown the body of one who had flung
such contempt upon the entire worship of Astarte. The whole Phoenician
world would hear of it; it must hear of Astarte's vengeance also.
Besides, the father's command could be quoted as inspired directly by
Baal. Sudden insanity was believed to be an over-exaltation of the mind
due to divine influence. Surely Ahimelek's raving was sufficient
evidence that the hand of the god was upon him.
The body of the supposed Zillah was lifted from the ground by men who
averted their eyes, that they might not be polluted, or even blinded, by
the sight of the unhallowed thing. They thrust the corpse into a sack,
and plunged it into the pool. Men were deputed to watch it as it emerged
from the great caldron and floated down the stream, and to follow it,
carrying with them poles with which to dislodge it from the rocks and
fallen timber that might obstruct the river, until the body should be
lost in the waters of the Great Sea.
CHAPTER XXIX.
The fugitives from Apheca rode as rapidly as the sure-footed horses
could pick their way in the moonlight up the side of the western range
of Lebanon, and at dawn looked down upon the majestic valley of the
Litany. The weariness of the journey, and the attendant excitement,
could not altogether destroy the impressiveness of the marvellous scene.
Thousands of feet below them lay the green meadows. Far across to the
east rose the other range of Lebanon, a mighty wall delaying the
sunrise. Among its snow-covered peaks the rays of morning poured, as the
white foam surges over the breakers and between the jagged rocks on the
Syrian coast. Tongues of snow filled the high ravines, and, diminishing
as they descended, carried the illusion of an overflowing reservoir of
light. Below the lustral crest, the rocky sides of Lebanon were black in
shadow; here gashed by the ceaseless plunging of cataracts, there
beetling with crags, like castles which had borne the assaulting storms
since chaos. High against the mountain's base the immense amount of
detritus made a sloping mound of soil, rich and green like a bank of
emerald.
The valley of the Litany which lay between the two Lebanon ranges had
been for ages the gateway of Syria from the north. Down through it had
poured the vast armies of Assyria and Babylon, devastating Syria and
Palestine on their way to the great objective conquest, the land of
Egypt. Now it was dotted with the caravansaries of traders, the camps of
Persian soldiers, halting _en route_, and the black tent villages of the
farmers who thus congregated for mutual protection in the midst of the
fields and herds they were watching.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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