From the Improvement Era, 1957 –

To Be a King

By Hugh J. Cannon

Chapter 1

It was an exquisite autumn evening. A young Jew, every line of whose handsome face and stalwart figure denoted kingship, stood on the Palatine Hill and gazed admiringly over the “Eternal City.” He absorbed the beauty of the scene, not only, as he thought, through the eyes, but also he breathed and heard and tasted it. In departing, the sun had flung a regal cloak of burnished gold, now gradually turning to purple, over the vine-clad hills. Sultanlike, its final and tenderest caress was bestowed upon its favorite — the palace grounds of the emperor, Tiberius Claudius Nero, where the young man stood.

Landscape more attractive was seldom to be found, however diligent the search, and its natural beauty was augmented on this occasion by the soft and luminous atmosphere. On every hand were villas whose spacious gardens, adorned with artistic statuary and marble fountains, were still responding with an abundance of flowers, while vine and tree offered luscious gifts fit for Caesar’s table.

Perhaps no spot could have been found on the face of the globe better calculated to inspire alluring dreams, and the youth was in a mood to listen to ambition’s seductive voice.

David, a direct descendant of John Hyrcanus, the founder of the Jewish monarchy and restorer of the independence of his race, had been reared with the idea that some day it would be his duty to rule over his native land of Judea and adjacent districts.

His parents, now deceased, had planted in David’s heart the ambition to rule, and it had grown with his growth. In preparation for such position he had been given every opportunity to study the art of war and in no less degree the arts of peace. To this end he had spent many years in Alexandria, Athens, and Rome, and had drunk deeply from the wells of learning and felt that a sure foundation upon which to build had been prepared for him.

Though of the race hated by the Romans, the youth was already loved by the present unloving emperor, Tiberius, and in those days (and when was it otherwise?) all loved him whom Caesar loved. The emperor had been the boyhood associate of David’s father and later, during the gloomy days in Rhodes, he became the recipient of most valuable assistance from his childhood playmate. After the death of Augustus, Tiberius became emperor, but the gratitude he owed his early friend was never forgotten; and because of it, and not less on account of David’s charming personality as well as his strength of character, he had become much attached to the youth. If not publicly offering encouragement, he had done nothing to discourage the father during his lifetime, and had done much to build up the hopes of the son, that some day he should be made king over the people whom he loved so intensely.

David was standing almost on the identical spot where, somewhat more than threescore and ten years pre- viously the emperor, Tiberius Claudius Nero, was born. On this same hill Herod the Great stood when he had made his visit to Rome and succeeded in enlisting the support of Marc Anthony and Octavius, and, accompanied by Roman troops, had returned to Jerusalem and ascended the throne, thus becoming the first foreign king of Judea.

But how flimsy were his claims to rule over the Jews as compared with David’s! The latter ‘s ancestors were kings, descended through the loins of David from the blessed Jacob, when the Idumean Herods were barbarous cave-dwellers, descendants of Esau. For many years there had been enmity between the two families. Herod was responsible for the capture of Hyrcanus, David’s grandfather, by the Parthians and his imprisonment for several years at Babylon. After his return to Jerusalem, he was executed by order of Herod, and the memory of this act had kept alive the bitterness in the present generation.

A Jew only by profession, Herod had rebuilt the holy temple, but had also reared countless magnificent temples to heathen deities, and had been consecrated king at Rome with many heathenish rites most offensive to the orthodox believer.

Herod Antipas, the present tetrarch of Galilee and Perea, and the degenerate son of a wicked father, Herod the Great, was neither deserving of, nor entitled to, the position he held. Reputable men, even among his close friends, were offended, and those less friendly were incensed at his flagrant conduct with his niece and sister-in-law, Herodias, whom he had stolen while a guest under his brother Philip’s roof. The recent defeat inflicted upon Herod by the Arabian king, Aretas, father of his abandoned wife, who had fled indignantly to the paternal home, had seriously weakened his position.

Neither was Pontius Pilate, the Roman procurator of Judea, firmly established in his place. To him nothing Jewish was sacred, and the mutterings of discontent and even open revolt which followed some of his arbitrary and cruel acts had been heard in Rome by Tiberius.

It was expected, therefore, by David and his supporters that the plan to remove both these officials and to appoint in their place one who had the confidence of the people, who was entitled by birth to govern, and who, withal, was a close friend of the emperor’s, would appeal to the all-powerful monarch.

To obtain the support of Tiberius, David had journeyed to Rome, and in the course of their last interview the usually silent and uncommunicative ruler had said:

“David, the weight of my years bears heavily upon me. I long for peace. Will you as king be as acceptable to the majority of the leaders of your people, the Jews, as you are to me?”

“I have every assurance that such will be the case.”

“Then you may rely upon my support. But move cautiously, and crystallize sentiment in your favor. Cultivate Herod, and particularly his friends. Of course you cannot win him, but you may win them, and your selection must be popular, one causing unity and not division among the people.”

“But I detest Herod so much that I cannot even profess friendliness for him.”

The emperor, displeased, retorted sharply, “Are you going to do this thing in your way or mine? My support will not be given if there is serious opposition to you. As one destined to rule, you must smile suavely upon those you hate until in a position to crush them. Will you heed my words?”

The promise was given, though reluctantly, and the emperor terminated the interview. David’s lifelong dream was about to be realized. His plans were made; now they must be carried to swift fulfilment. In his mind he already beheld a reunited kingdom of Judea embracing all the lands inhabited by the chosen race. To this kingdom the dispersed throughout the world would flock, and he saw him- self upon the throne, ruling with justice and righteousness and making of his oppressed people a mighty factor in the world’s affairs. The government should be refashioned, and by wisely directed industry, the barren places be made fruitful. His should be a kingdom of plenty. No longer would the daughters of Zion tearfully hang their silent harps on the willows along the rivers’ banks. Eyes weary with watching for Judca’s salvation should find rest. Instead of mourning in the land, there should be music and gladness. With his kingly lineage, wealth, training, and, as he sincerely believed, his natural fitness to govern, it needed but the support of a Caesar to bring these hopes to fruition.

The hour of his own opportunity was about to dawn! He would achieve immortal fame; and no artist, however skilful, could have produced a picture the equal in beauty of that which he had mentally painted of his future.

His reverie was interrupted by a slight and reluctant touch from his favorite servant, a man of gigantic stature.

Made forgetful of present surroundings by his absorbing mental pictures, the interruption startled David. Darkness, unnoticed, had come upon them, and instead of sun, stars were shining.

“What is it, Hassan?” he asked kindly.

“Pardon me, my master, but you have had a hard day, and many such are before you. Had you not better eat and rest?”

“It is a wise suggestion, but I can hardly tear myself from this place. Hassan, do you know why I love you?”

“It is kind of you, my master, to ask the question, but I cannot answer it.”

“I loved you first because of your perfect body, so tall, so straight, so strong. Then, after knowing you better, I came to love your character because it is as perfect as your body. Words cannot express my overwhelming love of beauty. That is why I linger over this perfect scene.”

“You love intensely, my master; your country, its people, your gardens and flowers — even your servants.” Then the man hesitated. “May I be so bold as to say something more?”

“Surely, Hassan. Why do you hesitate?”

“I have feared that if you ever should love unwisely it might prove your undoing.”

David was amused. “And yet, Hassan,” he continued more soberly, “there may be deep wisdom in what you say. Love unwisely! I shall try to profit by the suggestion. But we must move on. When the sun looks again upon this spot, we must be many miles hence; then on to Alexandria, to Jerusalem! I hunger for the rolling of the sea, for the motion of our fleet camels, for our camping places at the oases, for the sight of the date palms of Egypt and for the fig-trees of Judea. And what, think you, awaits us there, Hassan?”

“Success, my master. Is it not a recorded prophecy?”

“Yes, and the emperor is pledged to its fulfilment. But kingdoms come not by idle dreaming. Enough of that for one day! Now for vigorous action!”

The day’s journey had been long and hot, with just enough breeze to carry along with the caravan the cloud of choking dust raised by the flying feet of the camels. Though the autumn sun was nearing the horizon, shade from the stately date palms which flourished in the little oasis was welcome to the group which had been traveling since the dawn.

Refreshed by water drawn from the well, the camels were hungrily browsing about and anticipating the grain which they knew soon would be forthcoming.

David stood at the entrance of his tent and thoughtfully watched the servants as they proceeded with military precision to make preparations for the night.

Though the adjacent country was barren and inhospitable, swept alternately by cold blasts from the snow-covered Lebanons or Mt. Hermon and the stifling breezes from the Dead Sea and the Jordan Valley, it appealed strongly to the young Jew. This was home — he loved every inch of the forbidding land with a love only equaled by that which he felt for its people.

Far to the west was the city of Alexandria, then in the height of its glory, which the party had left three days before. They had crossed the fertile Nile valley and the wilderness of Shur. To the east was Palestine, the stage on which a large part of the world’s recorded drama had been and was now being played. In the distance David could see the flat plateaus and the rolling hills which reminded him of great waves of the ocean, and beyond, the majestic mountains of Judea, at this season dark gray or brown, standing between the sea he had so recently crossed and the depression in which were hidden the Jordan valley and the Dead Sea. His nostrils quivered with delight at the scent of the salt-laden breeze. In reverent imagination David could see the chief city, Jerusalem, even then renowned in song and story and full of interest to him as it ever has been to people of his race, for it was the city of his fathers. All his life he had studied its history passionately, had gloried in its successes, and had wept over the many calamities which had befallen it. To him it was indeed a holy city — the city of the great King who was to come; and at the recollection of the prophecies made concerning it he removed the sandals from his feet.

Over the brow of the hill to the south a camel and rider suddenly appeared and stood, a silhouette against the darkening sky, as though to reconnoitre. The men under direction of Hassan seized their arms and stood prepared to use them, until it became evident that the rider was alone. Slowly he drew nearer and their warlike attitude was changed, at a sign from their master, to one of welcome, for it was easy to see that nothing need be feared from the solitary traveler. He carried no weapons, and had he done so, they would have been entirely useless; for weak indeed would have been the opponent who could be overcome by this withered arm. Nor was his meager equipment of the nature to attract robbers. From the white-haired rider to the ancient camel all was old and worn and weatherbeaten.

David himself gave the camel the signal to lie down, and the giant Hassan took the fatigued traveler in his arms and carried him to a comfortable place in his master’s tent, while the servants brought water for face and hands and feet, and then cared for the decrepit animal.

“Thou art kind, David, son of Hyrcanus. May the God of Abraham minister unto thee as thou art doing unto the stranger.”

“You know me then?” the young man asked in surprise.

“I have known thee since childhood. And I doubt not thou hast often heard of Lebanah, a cherished friend of thy father’s and sometimes called the prophet of the wilderness. Thy face tells me that thou hast heard. I am he. And though I claim not the honor of being a prophet, through the grace of God I have foreseen many important things. One of them had to do with thee. When thou wert a small boy, I was shown that one day thou shouldst be a great king.”

Eagerly the young man asked: “What did you really see? This story has been current in our family all my life, and I have longed to hear it from your own lips. Relate to me the details, good Lebanah.”

“Details are seldom given to a prophet, David, and in this case none were made known. But as thy father, of holy memory, and I conversed upon the future of our race, thou earnest into the room and the prophetic voice, familiar to me from previous experiences, whispered distinctly: ‘That child, if he choose wisely, will become a great king.’ ”

“Choose wisely?” The listener manifested dismay. “The matter lacks certainty then? If I choose not wisely, there is no promise?”

“I have told thee exactly what the prophetic spirit whispered. But thou must not fail in judgment, my son. Remember how thy parents cherished this rightful ambition for thee. If thou failest, thou dost dishonor them. And forget not that our oppressed race needs one such as thee — one with righteous heart and powerful arm and one withal who is kind, as thy treatment of me shows that thou art. Thy mission is to restore this people to its rights, and none other can do thy work.

“The God of our fathers must guide thee. Already thou hast implacable enemies who will stop at nothing to bring to naught the purposes of heaven, and their hatred will increase with thy strength and popularity. Think of the despised Herod who slew thy grandfather out of jealousy and murdered the babes of Bethlehem that one reputed to be a future king of the Jews should die.

“Herod Antipas is no less cruel, only less courageous than his accursed father. He would unhesitatingly cause one to be slain who even remotely threatened his power. Thou are particularly hateful to him, for he knows full well that thou art of royal lineage, descended from our great King David, whose name thou dost bear, and that it is thy right to rule. Thy ambitions are also intimately known to him, and even now he suspects that thou art attempting to gain the support of Tiberius Claudius. Thou hast learned, of course, that Herod was in Rome seeking to win imperial support for the place which must be thine.”

“Yes, the emperor himself told me of the visit and his reasons for declining to add to Herod’s power or even to sustain him long in his present position.”

“He is a vile creature, and his influence is waning; thine is in the ascendancy. But that makes him more than ever thy foe, and his cowardice alone makes thee safe.”

“And as his cowardice is colossal, my danger is insignificant,” David rejoined laughing. “But come, let us eat. You looked famished.”

As the meal proceeded, the young nobleman’s lively spirits indicated that Lebanah’s prediction of ultimate success had made a far deeper impression than had the warning of danger. But suddenly he became “Was the babe whom Herod feared actually killed?”

The old man looked at him searchingly. “Art thou also jealous of him?”

“Not jealous, but certainly I am justified in learning my exact position.”

“Thou art right,” proceeded the sage after a pause, during which his hawk-like eyes had appeared to search the depths of his host’s soul. “No, he was not killed but was saved by omnipotent power and lives today — a marvelous man of miracles, but, if my conception of him be correct, disinclined to desire or even to accept political honors. In my opinion thou hast no reason to consider him a candidate for the throne of Judah.”

Then the old man told the story of the Nazarene who had but lately come from a carpenter’s bench and was attracting so much attention by his strange teachings and startling works. David listened with almost breathless interest; but when Lebanah said that this Jesus was the long-awaited Messiah, he sprang to his feet in astonishment.

His guest bade him sit with patience and hear the entire story. It was dramatically told. The shrunken form took on new life and the eyes, dimmed with age and weariness, sparkled with the lustre of virile youth. The young man, fascinated, hung upon every word.

“David, with prophetic eyes I have been blessed to see something of this being’s course. He is the one of whom Isaiah spoke as a ‘man of sorrows and acquainted with grief.’ He will be despised and rejected by many, but armies of angels await his bidding and the day of his triumph will come; for these eyes have beheld his glory. And in that exalted hour he shall be acknowledged by all as King of kings and Lord of lords. Thou mayest, therefore, pursue thy course unhindered by anything which he may do — merely preparing thyself to ac- knowledge him as King, not of Judea alone, but of the whole earth, whenever he chooses to assume his rightful position.”

The fervor of his declaration completely exhausted Lebanah, and David was obliged to have the servants carry him to the bed which had been prepared for him.

(To be continued)