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 Cæsars, 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 upon the very heart of that stifling mystery. Through it

presently, as the houses thinned out, they saw cores of great heat

surmounted by black-tipped flames that crackled savagely. Momus, now

in the lead, turned sharply to his right and the next instant had the

wind behind him. Almost involuntarily each member of the party looked

back. Outside the breach of the broken wall, standing clear to view

with the wind from the hills sweeping townward from them, were

diabolical figures, naked and black, feeding immense pyres with

hideous fuel.




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