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
Beyond that, Elnathan could not go. To admire Zillah's loveliness, of
which he now and then caught a glimpse, seemed unlawful for him; for
that belonged to her lover alone. He scarcely ventured to speak to her,
lest his words might be a sort of profanation. He could only wonder and
watch. She was his queen, and every fibre of his soul thrilled with
loyalty.
Old Ben Yusef had much the same feeling as his son; but his curiosity
was absorbed in his tenderness. Tears came into his eyes as he looked
upon Zillah's face, now shadowed with trouble, now ecstatic with
yearning. That there had been some barrier to her union with Marduk was
enough to revive memories of his own early life, when his now buried
Lyda, an alien from Israel, had cast her lot with his. His tent-home,
the home of an outcast from the family of Judah, was itself a memorial
of the triumph of love over traditionary proprieties; and it seemed as
if the God who had blessed his married life had now sent this
Phoenician maiden to his care.
Ruth did not need to catch the sentiment from her father and brother.
The fresh impulses of her own young womanhood went out unreservedly to
their guest. Zillah's need of sympathy quickly responded, and from the
first greeting the two were in closest sisterly relation. Ruth's
presence was a perpetual salâm, a benediction of peace and quiet to
Zillah's perturbed soul. The Jewess, though only a child, was old enough
to respect the privacy of the Phoenician's thoughts, and made no
inquiries, content to find her way to the other's heart, and to feel
that she brought comfort to it.
But there was one respect in which the kindness of Ben Yusef's household
failed. Zillah could not rest. There was but one pillow for her, and
that was the breast of Hiram. Why did he not come? A strange
listlessness passed through her. All the third day of her sojourn at
Giscala she hardly spoke, but talked all the night long in her sleep.
The fourth day brought the welcome visitor. Elnathan made the rocks ring
again as from the adjacent hill-top he signalled Marduk's approach. Ben
Yusef ran to meet him as if he had been a son. Even Ruth left the side
of the Phoenician, and tripped far away to greet him.
But Zillah moved not from her seat under the terebinth. As Marduk came
near and extended his arms in eagerness, she stared at him with stony
eyes. Then a faint smile passed over her face. Her body swayed against
the trunk of the tree, and would have fallen had not Marduk caught her.
"A passing swoon!" said Ben Yusef. "The gladness has been too much for
her. Some wine, Ruth!"
The swoon passed. Zillah rose, and, wildly flinging her arms, cried, "I
will go. I will go to him! See! this--this shall take me to him!" She
felt for something in her bosom. Raising her clenched hand, and with a
shrill cry, "I come, my Adonai, Hiram!" she fell again. They brought the
unconscious form into the tent.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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