“It _is_ a song of triumph, Mistress,” she replied. “It speaks, like the Feast of Tabernacles itself does, of the days when our fathers were led by the God of Israel out of bondage in Egypt. The song recalls, like the flaming candelabra, the long and wearisome journey upward into the promised land when the pillar of cloud led by day and the pillar of fire by night. It is more of the lore of our people. But look! The procession of light is beginning! See the torches!”
First came the Levites. In procession they passed the flaming candelabra, and as each man came opposite the blazing, darting fire, he mounted the steps, lifted high his torch, and touched it to the flame. Soon the torches of the Levites, followed by those of the pilgrims, had transformed the entire mountain of the Temple into a blaze of fire.
For a long moment, silent, Claudia stood at the balcony’s parapet and studied the procession of torchbearers; their voices, raised in song, filled the night. “It’s amazing,” she said finally. “I’ve always thought that the Jewish religion had no joy in it; I thought it was the worship of a stern, vengeful, morose god who was quick to punish any violator of his strict and senseless laws, who demanded bloody sacrifices and fasting and permitted no indulgence in pleasures. But these Jews seem to be having a grand time, almost as though they were devotees of Isis or Moloch.”
“Yes, but without the orgies of Isis and Moloch,” Tullia explained. “Many persons who are not of our faith do have that opinion of the God of Israel. But we believe that although He is stern and demands that we uphold His laws, He is also a loving God who wants His people to be happy. Some will be dancing here as long as their torches burn, Mistress.”
“Well, you may stay out and watch them as long as you like, Tullia, but I’m going to bed.”
“One more thing, Mistress,” the slave girl asked. “If I may, I should like at sunrise tomorrow to slip down into the Temple courts for the early service.”
“Of course, little one,” Claudia smiled. “But be careful. And perhaps it would be best if you made no mention of being in the Procurator’s household.”
Faintly at first and from afar off the silvery notes of a trumpet floated into her bedchamber. As she seemed to rise slowly upward out of a deep cavern of slumber, she sensed a stirring beside her.
