The Hammer: A Story of the Maccabean TimesChurch, Alfred John
History
The Hammer: A Story of the Maccabean Times
Church, Alfred John
Jewish fiction; Jews -- History -- To 70 A.D. -- Fiction; Maccabees -- Fiction
At this moment his meditations were interrupted by the entrance of two
visitors, who had been standing, listening and watching outside the door.
They were traders in a small way, who had migrated from Joppa when they
heard that Greek wares were becoming the fashion in Jerusalem.
“Ho! Shallum,” cried one of them, “two cups of your best Lebanon; and make
haste, for we have important business on hand.”
“Shall I draw some water fresh from the well? This is a little too warm to
be used.”
“Water!” said the man. “Jew, don’t blaspheme. Mix water with our wine
to-day, of all days in the year!”
“And why not to-day?” said Shallum.
“Because it is the feast of Dionysus, the wine-giver; and it would be the
grossest impiety to profane his bounty with any mixture of meaner things.
Commonly his godship winks at human weakness; but to-day it is different.
May he confound me if I do him such dishonour!”
“He will certainly confound you if you drink this heady wine undiluted,”
muttered Shallum to himself, as he set the two cups before his guests.
“Excellent! excellent!” cried Lycon, the elder of the two Greeks, as he
set down his goblet, half empty. “But why the god vouchsafes such capital
drink to these unbelieving dogs of Jews puzzles me beyond expression.”
His companion broke out into a drinking-song:
“Fill the cup with ample measure,
Dionysus’ gift divine;
Earth and sea hold no such treasure
As the gleaming, sparkling wine.
All for youth are love’s caressings,
Gold and gems for princes shine;
All may share the wine-god’s blessings,
Rich and poor are glad with wine.”
Shallum was fairly tolerant, as indeed a tavern-keeper can hardly fail to
be, of the ways and manners of his customers; but to hear this praise of a
false god, one of the odious demons that were worshipped by the heathen,
was too much for his patience. He muttered a curse under his breath, and
emphasized this expression of disgust by spitting on the floor.
“Don’t talk to me of your gods and goddesses!” cried Shallum, goaded
beyond all endurance, “a lewd, drunken crew that no respectable person
would have anything to do with!”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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