Pearl-Maiden: A Tale of the Fall of JerusalemHaggard, H. Rider (Henry Rider)
History
Pearl-Maiden: A Tale of the Fall of Jerusalem
Haggard, H. Rider (Henry Rider)
Historical fiction; Jerusalem -- History -- Fiction
Nehushta was right, for after they had remained fast a little longer
they were saved, thus: Suddenly the wind dropped, then it rose again in
a last furious squall, driving before it a very mountain of water. This
vast billow, as it rushed shorewards, caught the galley in its white
arms and lifted her not only off the rock whereon she lay, but over the
further reefs, to cast her down again upon a bed of sand and shells,
within a stone’s throw of the beach, where she remained fast, never to
shift more.
Now also, as though its work were done, the gale ceased, and, as is
common on the Syrian coast, the sea sank rapidly, so that by nightfall
it was calm again. Indeed, three hours before sunset, had both of them
been strong and well, they might have escaped to the land by wading.
But this was not to be, for now what Nehushta had feared befell, and
when she was least fitted to bear it, being worn out with anguish of
mind and weariness of body, pain took sudden hold of Rachel, of which
the end was that, before midnight, there, in that broken vessel upon a
barren coast where no man seemed to live, a daughter was born to her.
“Let me see the child,” said Rachel. So Nehushta showed it to her by
the light of a lamp which burned in the cabin.
It was a small child, but very white, with blue eyes and dark hair that
curled. Rachel gazed at it long and tenderly. Then she said, “Bring me
water while there is yet time.”
When the water was brought she dipped her trembling hand into it, and
made the sign of the Cross upon the babe’s forehead, baptising her with
the name of Miriam, after that of her own mother, to the service and
the company of Jesus the Christ.
“Now,” she said, “whether she live an hour or an hundred years, this
child is a Christian, and whatever befalls, should she come to the age
of understanding, see to it, Nou, who are henceforth the foster-mother
of her body and her soul, that she does not forget the rites and duties
of her faith. Lay this charge on her also as her father commanded, and
as I command, that should she be moved to marriage, she wed none who is
not a Christian. Tell her that such was the will of those who begat
her, and that if she be obedient to it, although they are dead, and as
it seems strengthless, yet shall their blessing be upon her all her
life’s days, and with it the blessing of the Lord she serves.”
“Oh!” moaned Nehushta, “why do you speak thus?”
“Because I am dying. Gainsay me not. I know it well. My life ebbs from
me. My prayers have been answered, and I was preserved to give this
infant birth; now I go to my appointed place and to one who waits for
me, and to the Lord in Whose care he is in Heaven, as we are in His
care on earth. Nay, do not mourn; it is no fault of yours, nor could
any physician’s skill have saved me, whose strength was spent in
suffering, and who for many months have walked the world, bearing in my
breast a broken heart. Give me of that wine to drink—and listen.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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