Ben Hur (56 page)

The worst of men do once in a while vary their wickednesses by good
acts; so with Pilate. He ordered an inspection of all the prisons
in Judea, and a return of the names of the persons in custody,
with a statement of the crimes for which they had been committed.
Doubtless, the motive was the one so common with officials just
installed—dread of entailed responsibility; the people, however,
in thought of the good which might come of the measure, gave him
credit, and, for a period, were comforted. The revelations were
astonishing. Hundreds of persons were released against whom there
were no accusations; many others came to light who had long been
accounted dead; yet more amazing, there was opening of dungeons not
merely unknown at the time by the people, but actually forgotten by
the prison authorities. With one instance of the latter kind we
have now to deal; and, strange to say, it occurred in Jerusalem.

The Tower of Antonia, which will be remembered as occupying two thirds
of the sacred area on Mount Moriah, was originally a castle built
by the Macedonians. Afterwards, John Hyrcanus erected the castle
into a fortress for the defence of the Temple, and in his day it
was considered impregnable to assault; but when Herod came with
his bolder genius, he strengthened its walls and extended them,
leaving a vast pile which included every appurtenance necessary
for the stronghold he intended it to be forever; such as offices,
barracks, armories, magazines, cisterns, and last, though not least,
prisons of all grades. He levelled the solid rock, and tapped it
with deep excavations, and built over them; connecting the whole
great mass with the Temple by a beautiful colonnade, from the roof
of which one could look down over the courts of the sacred structure.
In such condition the Tower fell at last out of his hands into those
of the Romans, who were quick to see its strength and advantages,
and convert it to uses becoming such masters. All through the
administration of Gratus it had been a garrisoned citadel and
underground prison terrible to revolutionists. Woe when the cohorts
poured from its gates to suppress disorder! Woe not less when a Jew
passed the same gates going in under arrest!

With this explanation, we hasten to our story.

The order of the new procurator requiring a report of the persons in
custody was received at the Tower of Antonia, and promptly executed;
and two days have gone since the last unfortunate was brought up
for examination. The tabulated statement, ready for forwarding,
lies on the table of the tribune in command; in five minutes more
it will be on the way to Pilate, sojourning in the palace up on
Mount Zion.

The tribune's office is spacious and cool, and furnished in a
style suitable to the dignity of the commandant of a post in
every respect so important. Looking in upon him about the seventh
hour of the day, the officer appears weary and impatient; when the
report is despatched, he will to the roof of the colonnade for air
and exercise, and the amusement to be had watching the Jews over
in the courts of the Temple. His subordinates and clerks share
his impatience.

In the spell of waiting a man appeared in a doorway leading to an
adjoining apartment. He rattled a bunch of keys, each heavy as a
hammer, and at once attracted the chief's attention.

"Ah, Gesius! come in," the tribune said.

As the new-comer approached the table behind which the chief sat
in an easy-chair, everybody present looked at him, and, observing a
certain expression of alarm and mortification on his face, became silent
that they might hear what he had to say.

"O tribune!" he began, bending low, "I fear to tell what now I
bring you."

"Another mistake—ha, Gesius?"

"If I could persuade myself it is but a mistake, I would not be
afraid."

"A crime then—or, worse, a breach of duty. Thou mayst laugh at
Caesar, or curse the gods, and live; but if the offence be to
the eagles—ah, thou knowest, Gesius—go on!"

"It is now about eight years since Valerius Gratus selected me to be
keeper of prisoners here in the Tower," said the man, deliberately.
"I remember the morning I entered upon the duties of my office.
There had been a riot the day before, and fighting in the streets.
We slew many Jews, and suffered on our side. The affair came, it was
said, of an attempt to assassinate Gratus, who had been knocked from
his horse by a tile thrown from a roof. I found him sitting where
you now sit, O tribune, his head swathed in bandages. He told me
of my selection, and gave me these keys, numbered to correspond
with the numbers of the cells; they were the badges of my office,
he said, and not to be parted with. There was a roll of parchment
on the table. Calling me to him, he opened the roll. 'Here are maps of
the cells,' said he. There were three of them. 'This one,' he went on,
'shows the arrangement of the upper floor; this second one gives you
the second floor; and this last is of the lower floor. I give them
to you in trust.' I took them from his hand, and he said, further,
'Now you have the keys and the maps; go immediately, and acquaint
yourself with the whole arrangement; visit each cell, and see
to its condition. When anything is needed for the security of
a prisoner, order it according to your judgment, for you are
the master under me, and no other.'

"I saluted him, and turned to go away; he called me back. 'Ah,
I forgot,' he said. 'Give me the map of the third floor.' I gave
it to him, and he spread it upon the table. 'Here, Gesius,' he said,
'see this cell.' He laid his finger on the one numbered V. 'There are
three men confined in that cell, desperate characters, who by some
means got hold of a state secret, and suffer for their curiosity,
which'—he looked at me severely—'in such matters is worse than a
crime. Accordingly, they are blind and tongueless, and are placed
there for life. They shall have nothing but food and drink, to be
given them through a hole, which you will find in the wall covered
by a slide. Do you hear, Gesius?' I made him answer. 'It is well,'
he continued. 'One thing more which you shall not forget, or'—he
looked at me threateningly—'The door of their cell—cell number
V. on the same floor—this one, Gesius'—he put his finger on the
particular cell to impress my memory—'shall never be opened for
any purpose, neither to let one in nor out, not even yourself.'
'But if they die?' I asked. 'If they die,' he said, 'the cell
shall be their tomb. They were put there to die, and be lost.
The cell is leprous. Do you understand?' With that he let me go."

Gesius stopped, and from the breast of his tunic drew three parchments,
all much yellowed by time and use; selecting one of them, he spread
it upon the table before the tribune, saying, simply, "This is the
lower floor."

The whole company looked at the map.

"This is exactly, O tribune, as I had it from Gratus. See, there is
cell number V.," said Gesius.

"I see," the tribune replied. "Go on now. The cell was leprous,
he said."

"I would like to ask you a question," remarked the keeper, modestly.

The tribune assented.

"Had I not a right, under the circumstances, to believe the map
a true one?"

"What else couldst thou?"

"Well, it is not a true one."

The chief looked up surprised.

"It is not a true one," the keeper repeated. "It shows but five
cells upon that floor, while there are six."

"Six, sayest thou?"

"I will show you the floor as it is—or as I believe it to be."

Upon a page of his tablets, Gesius drew a diagram,
and gave it to the tribune.

"Thou hast done well," said the tribune, examining the drawing,
and thinking the narrative at an end. "I will have the map corrected,
or, better, I will have a new one made, and given thee. Come for it
in the morning."

So saying, he arose.

"But hear me further, O tribune."

"To-morrow, Gesius, to-morrow."

"That which I have yet to tell will not wait."

The tribune good-naturedly resumed his chair.

"I will hurry," said the keeper, humbly, "only let me ask another
question. Had I not a right to believe Gratus in what he further
told me as to the prisoners in cell number V.?"

"Yes, it was thy duty to believe there were three prisoners in the
cell—prisoners of state—blind and without tongues."

"Well," said the keeper, "that was not true either."

"No!" said the tribune, with returning interest.

"Hear, and judge for yourself, O tribune. As required, I visited all
the cells, beginning with those on the first floor, and ending with
those on the lower. The order that the door of number V. should not
be opened had been respected; through all the eight years food and
drink for three men had been passed through a hole in the wall.
I went to the door yesterday, curious to see the wretches who,
against all expectation, had lived so long. The locks refused
the key. We pulled a little, and the door fell down, rusted from
its hinges. Going in, I found but one man, old, blind, tongueless,
and naked. His hair dropped in stiffened mats below his waist.
His skin was like the parchment there. He held his hands out,
and the finger-nails curled and twisted like the claws of a bird.
I asked him where his companions were. He shook his head in denial.
Thinking to find the others, we searched the cell. The floor was dry;
so were the walls. If three men had been shut in there, and two of them
had died, at least their bones would have endured."

"Wherefore thou thinkest—"

"I think, O tribune, there has been but one prisoner there in the
eight years."

The chief regarded the keeper sharply, and said, "Have a care;
thou art more than saying Valerius lied."

Gesius bowed, but said, "He might have been mistaken."

"No, he was right," said the tribune, warmly. "By thine own statement
he was right. Didst thou not say but now that for eight years food
and drink had been furnished three men?"

The bystanders approved the shrewdness of their chief; yet Gesius
did not seem discomfited.

"You have but half the story, O tribune. When you have it all,
you will agree with me. You know what I did with the man: that I
sent him to the bath, and had him shorn and clothed, and then took
him to the gate of the Tower, and bade him go free. I washed my
hands of him. To-day he came back, and was brought to me. By signs
and tears he at last made me understand he wished to return to his
cell, and I so ordered. As they were leading him off, he broke away
and kissed my feet, and, by piteous dumb imploration, insisted I
should go with him; and I went. The mystery of the three men stayed
in my mind. I was not satisfied about it. Now I am glad I yielded
to his entreaty."

The whole company at this point became very still.

"When we were in the cell again, and the prisoner knew it, he caught
my hand eagerly, and led me to a hole like that through which
we were accustomed to pass him his food. Though large enough to
push your helmet through, it escaped me yesterday. Still holding
my hand, he put his face to the hole and gave a beast-like cry.
A sound came faintly back. I was astonished, and drew him away,
and called out, 'Ho, here!' At first there was no answer. I called
again, and received back these words, 'Be thou praised, O Lord!' Yet
more astonishing, O tribune, the voice was a woman's. And I asked,
'Who are you?' and had reply, 'A woman of Israel, entombed here
with her daughter. Help us quickly, or we die.' I told them to
be of cheer, and hurried here to know your will."

The tribune arose hastily.

"Thou wert right, Gesius," he said, "and I see now. The map was a
lie, and so was the tale of the three men. There have been better
Romans than Valerius Gratus."

"Yes," said the keeper. "I gleaned from the prisoner that he had
regularly given the women of the food and drink he had received."

"It is accounted for," replied the tribune, and observing the
countenances of his friends, and reflecting how well it would be
to have witnesses, he added, "Let us rescue the women. Come all."

Gesuis was pleased.

"We will have to pierce the wall," he said. "I found where a
door had been, but it was filled solidly with stones and mortar."

The tribune stayed to say to a clerk, "Send workmen after me with
tools. Make haste; but hold the report, for I see it will have to
be corrected."

In a short time they were gone.

"A woman of Israel, entombed here with her daughter. Help us quickly,
or we die."

Such was the reply Gesius, the keeper, had from the cell which
appears on his amended map as VI. The reader, when he observed
the answer, knew who the unfortunates were, and, doubtless,
said to himself, "At last the mother of Ben-Hur, and Tirzah,
his sister!"

And so it was.

The morning of their seizure, eight years before, they had been
carried to the Tower, where Gratus proposed to put them out of the
way. He had chosen the Tower for the purpose as more immediately in
his own keeping, and cell VI. because, first, it could be better lost
than any other; and, secondly, it was infected with leprosy; for these
prisoners were not merely to be put in a safe place, but in a place to
die. They were, accordingly, taken down by slaves in the night-time,
when there were no witnesses of the deed; then, in completion of
the savage task, the same slaves walled up the door, after which
they were themselves separated, and sent away never to be heard
of more. To save accusation, and, in the event of discovery,
to leave himself such justification as might be allowed in
a distinction between the infliction of a punishment and the
commission of a double murder, Gratus preferred sinking his victims
where natural death was certain, though slow. That they might linger
along, he selected a convict who had been made blind and tongueless,
and sank him in the only connecting cell, there to serve them with
food and drink. Under no circumstances could the poor wretch tell
the tale or identify either the prisoners or their doomsman. So,
with a cunning partly due to Messala, the Roman, under color of
punishing a brood of assassins, smoothed a path to confiscation
of the estate of the Hurs, of which no portion ever reached the
imperial coffers.