These were all who were left of the Sanhedrim of the
Jews.
As Miriam entered one of their number was delivering judgment upon
a wretched starving man. Miriam looked at the judge. It was her
grandfather, Benoni, but oh! how changed. He who had been tall and
upright was now drawn almost double, his teeth showed yellow between his
lips, his long white beard was ragged and had come out in patches, his
hand shook, his gorgeous head-dress was awry. Nothing was the same about
him except his eyes, which still shone bright, but with a fiercer fire
than of old. They looked like the eyes of a famished wolf.
"Man, have you aught to say?" he was asking of the prisoner.
"Only this," the prisoner answered. "I had hidden some food, my
own food, which I bought with all that remained of my fortune. Your
hyaena-men caught my wife, and tormented her until she showed it them.
They fell upon it, and, with their comrades, ate it nearly all. My wife
died of starvation and her wounds, my children died of starvation, all
except one, a child of six, whom I fed with what remained. Then she
began to die also, and I bargained with the Roman, giving him jewels and
promising to show him the weak place in the wall if he would convey the
child to his camp and feed her.
Pages:
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299