ON THE ROAD TO JERUSALEM

News of the appearance of the plague in the house of Costobarus traveled fast after the death of the gardener, who had fallen in the open and in sight of the watchful inhabitants of Ascalon.  So by the time the house servants of the merchant were made aware of their peril by the death of one of their own number, Philip of Tyre with the courage of affection and loyalty stood on the threshold of the guest-chamber informed of the situation and prepared to help.  Hannah, supported by the Tyrian’s assurance of her rescue and protection, succeeded in urging Costobarus and Laodice not to delay for her to the peril of the thrice precious daughter.

So with his house yet ringing with the first convulsion of terror Costobarus ordered his party with all haste to the camels.

Keturah, Laodice’s handmaiden, had fainted with terror and was carried parcel-wise over the great arm of Momus, the mute, out into the street and deposited summarily on the floor of Laodice’s bamboo howdah.  The camel-driver, Hiram, seemed only a little less stupefied than she.  The mute, with a face as determined and threatening as an uplifted gad, drove him from the shelter of a dark corner out to his place on the neck of his master’s camel.  Aquila, the emissary, showed the immemorial composure in the face of disaster that was the badge of the Roman in the days of the degenerate Caesars, and, mounting his horse when the rest of the party were in their places, headed the procession toward the northeast.

From an upper window behind a lattice, Hannah cried her farewells and fluttered her scarf.  She was smiling the drawn, white smile of a mother who is forcing herself to be cheerful in the face of danger, for the peace of those she loves.  Laodice understood the tender deception and when a sharp turn of the street cut off the sight of the plumy trees of the garden, she covered her face and wept inconsolably.

On either side of the passage there came muffled sounds from houses; out of open alleys leading into interior courts stole the fetor of death that even the spice of burning unguents could not smother.  The whole air shuddered with the drumming of heathen physicians in the pagan quarters, through which the silence of long stretches of ominously quiet houses shouted its meaning.  At times frantic barefoot flights could be glimpsed as households deserted stricken houses, but whatever outcry arose came from bedsides.  Ascalon fled as a frightened animal flees, silently and under cover.

They rode now through a shrieking wind, burdened with sallow smoke and dreadful odors.  Denser and denser the cloud grew till the streets ahead were hidden in yellow vapor and near-by houses loomed with dim outlines as if far off, and even the sounds of death and disaster became choked in the immense prevalence of smell.  Blinded, with scarf and kerchief wrapped over mouth and nostril, the fleeing party swept down