Fierce had been the rage and disappointment of Antiochus Epiphanes on hearing of the result of the night attack on his forces at Emmaus, and the subsequent retreat of Giorgias without striking a blow. In vain the troops of that too cautious leader endeavoured, by exaggerating the account of the numbers of their enemies, to cover their own shame. Antiochus was furious alike at what he termed the insolence of a handful of outlaws, and the cowardice of his picked troops, who had flaunted their banners and gone forth as if to assured victory, and had then fled like some gay-plumed bird before the swoop of the eagle. Not only the oppressed inhabitants of Jerusalem and its environs had cause to tremble at the rage of the tyrant, but his own Syrian officers and the obsequious courtiers who stood in his presence. And none more so than Pollux, once the chosen companion and special favourite of the Syrian king. Pollux had been so loaded with wealth and honours by his capricious master, as to have become an object of envy to his fellow-courtiers, and especially so to Lysimachus, a Syrian of high birth, who had seen himself passed in the race for royal favour by a rival whom he despised. But there was little cause for envying Pollux, the wretched parasite of a tyrant. Alas, for him who has bartered conscience and self-respect to win a monarch's smile! He has left the firm though narrow path of duty, to find himself on a treacherous quicksand, where the ground on which he places his foot soon begins to give way beneath him!

A few months before the time of which I am writing, Pollux, after a long sojourn in Antioch, then the capital of the Syrian dominions, had rejoined Antiochus in Jerusalem, where the monarch was holding his court in a luxurious palace which he had caused to be erected. It was here that Pollux first experienced the fickleness of royal favour. The courtier had been present at the trial of Solomona and her brave sons without making the slightest effort to save them, though their fate had moved him to something more than pity. But though Pollux could to a certain extent trample down compunction, and force his conscience to silence, he had not perfect command over his nerves. He might consent to the perpetration of horrors, but he could not endure to witness them; and, as we have seen, he had quietly, and, as he hoped, without attracting notice, quitted the chamber of torture.

The keen eye of jealousy had, however, keenly watched the movements of Pollux, and Lysimachus had not failed to make the most of the weakness betrayed by his rival.

"Pollux has sympathy with the Hebrews," observed Lysimachus to the tyrant, when Antiochus was chafing at being baffled by the fortitude of his victims. "Pollux may wear the Syrian garb, and he loaded with favours by the mighty Syrian king, but he remains at heart a Jew."

From that day Pollux found himself an object of suspicion, and having once reached the quicksand, he gradually sank lower and lower, notwithstanding his desperate efforts to save himself from impending ruin. His most costly gifts, his most fulsome flattery, his assurances of deathless devotion to "the greatest, noblest of the kings who sway realms conquered by Alexander, and surpass the fame of Macedonia's godlike hero," met but the coldest response. Pollux had once been wont to delight the king with his brilliant wit; now his forced jests fell like sparks upon water. Antiochus was growing tired of his favourite, as a child grows tired of the toy which he hugs one day, to break and fling aside on the next.

All the more embarrassed from having to simulate ease, all the more wretched because forcing himself to seem merry, with the sword of Damocles ever hanging over his head, Pollux, in the midst of luxury and pomp, was one of the most miserable of mankind. The court became to him at last an almost intolerable place. In an attempt at once to free himself from its restraints, and to win back the favour of the king by military service, in an evil hour for himself, he had volunteered to join the forces of Nicanor. The courtier was incited by no military ardour; he had no desire to fall on the field of victory; Pollux was not a coward, but he clung to life as those well may cling who have forfeited all hope of anything but misery beyond it. Pollux, as we have seen, had accompanied Giorgias when that general led a detachment of chosen troops to make that night attack upon Judas which had proved so unsuccessful. With Giorgias, Pollux had returned to Jerusalem, covered with shame instead of glory. More than his fair share of the obloquy incurred had fallen to the unfortunate courtier.

"Be assured, O most mighty monarch"--thus had Lysimachus addressed the disappointed tyrant--"that had there been no sympathizers with the Hebrew rebels in the army of the king, Giorgias would have returned to Jerusalem with the head of Judas Maccabeus hanging at his saddle-bow."

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