Books: Ardath

M >> Marie Corelli >> Ardath

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He hurried his pace as he spoke, and glided along with such a
curious, stealthy noiselessness that by and by Theos began
dubiously to wonder whether after all he were a real personage or
a phantom? He noticed that his own figure seemed to possess much
more substantiality and distinctness of outline than that of this
mysterious Zuriel, whose very garments resembled floating cloud
rather than actual, woven fabric. Was his companion then a fitting
Spectre? ...

He smiled at the absurdity of the idea, and to change the drift of
his own foolish fancies he asked suddenly,--"Concerning this
wondrous city of Al-Kyris...is it of very ancient days, and long
lineage?"

"The annals of its recorded history reach over a period of twelve
thousand years"--replied Zuriel, . . "But 'tis the present fashion
to count from the Deification of Nagaya or the Snake,--and,
according to this, we are now in the nine hundred and eighty-ninth
year of so-called Grace and Knowledge,--rather say Dishonor and
Crime! ... for a crueler, more bloodthirsty creed than the worship
of Nagaya never debased a people! Who shall number up the innocent
victims that have been sacrificed in the great Temple of the
Sacred Python!--and even on this very day which has just dawned,
another holocaust is to be offered on the Veiled Shrine,--or so it
hath been publicly proclaimed throughout the city,--and the crowd
will flock to see a virgin's blood spilt on the accursed altars
where Lysia, in all the potency of triumphant wickedness,
presides. But if the auguries of the stars prevail, 'twill be for
the last time!" Here he paused and looked fixedly at Theos. "Thou
dost return straightway to Sah-luma ... is it not so?"

Theos bent his head in assent.

"Art thou true friend, or mere flatterer to that spoilt child of
fair fame and fortune?"

"Friend!"--cried Theos with eager enthusiasm, ... "I would give my
life to save his!"

"Aye, verily? ... is it so?" ... and Zuriel's melancholy eyes
dwelt upon him with a strange and sombre wistfulness, ... "Then,
as thou art a man, persuade him out of evil into good! ...
rouse him to noble shame and nobler penitence for all those faults
which mar his poet-genus and deprive it of immortal worth! ...
urge him to depart from Al-Kyris while there is yet time ere the
bolt of destruction falls! ... and, ... mark you well this final
warning! ... bid him to-day avoid the Temple, and beware the
King!"--

As he said this he stopped and extinguished the lamp he carried.
There was no longer any need of it, for a broad patch of gray
light fell through an aperture in the wall, showing a few rough,
broken steps that led upwards,--and pointing to these he bade the
bewildered Theos a kindly farewell.

"Thou wilt find Sah-luma's palace easily,"--he said--"Not a child
in the streets but knows the way thither. Guard thy friend and be
thyself also on guard against coming disaster,--and if thou art
not yet resolved to die, escape from the city ere to-night's sun-
setting. Soothe thy distempered fancies with thoughts of God, and
cease not to pray for thy soul's salvation! Peace be with thee!"--

He raised his hands with an expressive gesture of benediction, and
turning round abruptly disappeared. Where had he gone? ... how had
he vanished? ... It was impossible to tell! ... he seemed to have
melted away like a mist into utter nothingness! Profoundly
perplexed, Theos ascended the steps before him, his mind anxiously
revolving all the strange adventures of the night, while a dim
sense of some unspeakable, coming calamity brooded darkly upon
him.

The solemn admonitions he had just heard affected him deeply, for
the reason that they appeared to apply so specially to Sah-luma,--
and the idea that any evil fate was in store for the bright,
beautiful creature, whom he had, oddly enough, learned to love
more than himself, moved him to an almost womanish apprehension.
In case of pressing necessity, could he exercise any authority
over the capricious movements of the wilful Laureate, whose
egotism was so absolute, whose imperious ways were so charming,
whose commands were never questioned?

He doubted it! ... for Sah-luma was accustomed to follow the lead
of his own immediate pleasure, in reckless scorn of consequences,
--and it was not likely he would listen to the persuasions or
exhortations, however friendly, of any one presuming to run
counter to his wishes.

Again and again Theos asked himself--"If Sah-luma of his own
accord, and despite all warning, deliberately rushed into deadly
peril, could I, even loving him as I do, rescue him?"--And as he
pondered on this, a strange answer shaped itself unbidden in his
brain--an answer that seemed as though it were spoken aloud by
some interior voice.. "No,--no!--ten thousand times no! You could
not save him any more than you could save yourself from the
results of your own misdoing! If you voluntarily choose evil, not
all the forces in the world can lift you into good,--if you
voluntarily choose danger, not all the gods can bring you into
safety! FREE WILL is the divine condition attached to human life,
and each man by thought, word, and deed, determines his own fate,
and decides his own future!"

He sighed despondingly, ... a curious, vague contrition stirred
within him, ... he felt as though HE were in some mysterious way
to blame for all his poet-friend's short-comings!

In a few minutes he found himself on the broad marble embankment,
close to the very spot from whence he had first beheld the
beautiful High Priestess sailing slowly by in all her golden pomp
and splendor, and as he thought of her now, a shudder, half of
aversion, half of desire, quivered through him, flushing his brows
with the warm uprising blood that yet burned rebelliously at the
remembrance of her witching, perfect loveliness!

Here too he had met Sah-luma, . . ah Heaven!--how many things had
happened since then! ... how much he had seen and heard! ...
Enough, at any rate, to convince him, that the men and women of
Al-Kyris were more or less the same as those of other great cities
he seemed to have known in far-off, half-forgotten days,--that
they plotted against each other, deceived each other, accused each
other falsely, murdered each other, and were fools, traitors, and
egotists generally, after the customary fashion of human pigmies,
--that they set up a Sham to serve as Religion, Gold being their
only god,--that the rich wantoned in splendid luxury, and wilfully
neglected the poor,--that the King was a showy profligate, ruled
by a treacherous courtesan, just like many other famous Kings and
Princes, who, because of their stalwart, martial bearing, and a
certain surface good-nature, manage to conceal their vices from
the too lenient eyes of the subjects they mislead,--and that
finally all things were evidently tending toward some great
convulsion and upheaval possibly arising from discontent and
dissension among the citizens themselves,--or, likelier still,
from the sudden invasion of a foreign foe,--for any more terrific
termination of events did not just then suggest itself to his
imagination.

Absorbed in thought, he walked some paces along the embankment,
before he perceived that a number of people were already assembled
there,--men, women, and children, who, crowding eagerly together
to the very edge of the parapet, appeared to be anxiously watching
the waters below.

What unusual sight attracted them? ... and why were they all so
silent as though struck dumb by some unutterable dismay? One or
two, raising their heads, turned their pale, alarmed faces toward
Theos as he approached, their eyes seeming to mutely inquire his
opinion, concerning the alarming phenomenon which held them thus
spellbound and fear-stricken.

He made his way quickly to where they stood, and looking where
they looked, uttered a sharp, involuntary exclamation, ... the
river, the clear, rippling river was RED AS BLOOD. Beneath the
slowly breaking light of dawn, that streaked the heavens with
delicate lines of silver-gray and daffodil, the whole visible
length and breadth of the heaving waters shone with a darkly
flickering crimson hue, deeper than the lustre of the deepest
ruby, flowing sluggishly the while as though clogged with some
thick and weedy slime.

As the sky brightened gradually into a pale, ethereal blue, so the
tide became ruddier and more pronounced in color,--and presently,
as though seized by a resistless panic, the group of staring,
terrified bystanders broke up suddenly, and rushed away in various
directions, covering their faces as they fled and uttering loud
cries of lamentation and despair.

Theos alone remained behind, . . resting his folded arms on the
sculptured balustrade, he gazed down, down into those crimson
depths till their strange tint dazzled and confused his sight,--
looking up for relief to the eastern horizon where the sun was
just bursting out in full splendor from a pavilion of violet
cloud, the red reflection was still before his eyes, so much so,
that the very air seemed flushed with spreading fire.

And then like the sound of a tocsin ringing in his ears, the words
of the Prophet Khosrul, as pronounced in the presence of the King,
recurred to his memory with new and suggestive force. "BLOOD--
BLOOD! 'TIS A SCARLET SEA WHEREIN LIKE A BROKEN AND EMPTY SHIP AL-
KYRIS FOUNDERS,--FOUNDERS NEVER TO RISE AGAIN!"

Still painfully oppressed by an increasing sense of some swift-
approaching disaster, his thoughts once more reverted anxiously to
Sah-luma. He must be warned,--yes!--even if he disdained all
warning! Yet, . . warn him against what? "BID HIM AVOID THE TEMPLE
AND BEWARE THE KING!"

So had said Zuriel the Mystic,--but to the laurelled favorite of
the monarch, and idol of the people, such an admonition would seem
more than absurd! It was useless to talk to him about the
prophecies of Khosrul,--he had heard them all, and laughed them to
scorn.

"How can I"--then mused Theos disconsolately,--"How can I make him
believe that some undeclared evil threatens him, when he is at the
very pinnacle of fame and fortune with all Al-Kyris at his feet?
... He would never listen to me, ... nor would any persuasions of
mine induce him to leave the city where his name is so glorious
and his renown so firmly established. Of Lysia's treachery I may
perhaps convince him, ... yet even in this attempt I may fail, and
incur his hatred for my pains! If I had only myself to consider!
... "--And here his reflections suddenly took a strange, unbidden
turn. If he had only himself to consider! ... well, what then! Was
it not just within the bounds of probability that, under the same
circumstances, he might be precisely as self-willed and as
haughtily opinionated as the friend whose arrogance he deplored,
yet could not alter?

So pointed a suggestion was not exactly suited to his immediate
humor, and he felt curiously vexed with himself for indulging in
such a foolish association of ideas! The positions were entirely
different, he argued, angrily addressing the troublesome inward
monitor that every now and then tormented him,--there was no
resemblance whatever between himself, the unknown, unfamed
wanderer in a strange land, and the brilliant Sah-luma, chosen
Poet Laureate of the realm!

No resemblance, . . none at all! ... he reiterated over and over
again in his own mind, . . except ... except, ... well! ... except
in perhaps a few trifling touches of character and temper that
were scarcely worth the noting! At this juncture, his
uncomfortable reverie was interrupted by the sound of a harsh,
metallic voice close behind him.

"What fools there are in the world!" said the voice in emphatic
accents of supreme contempt--"What braying asses!--What earth-
snouting swine! Saw you not yon crowd of whimpering idiots flying
helter-skelter like chaff before the wind, weeping, wailing, and
bemoaning their miserable little sins, scattering dust on their
addled pates, and howling on their gods for mercy,--all forsooth!
because for once in their unobserving lives they behold the river
red instead of green! Ay me! 'tis a thing to laugh at, this crass,
and brutish ignorance of the multitude,--no teaching will ever
cleanse their minds from the cobwebs of vulgar superstition,--and
I, in common with every wise and worthy sage of sound repute and
knowledge, must needs waste all my scientific labors on a
perpetually ungrateful public!"

Turning hastily round Theos confronted the speaker,--a tall, spare
man with a pale, clean-shaven, intellectual face, small, shrewd,
speculative eyes, and very straight, neatly parted locks,--a man
on whose every lineament was expressed a profound belief in
himself, and an equally profound scorn for the opinions of any one
who might possibly presume to disagree with him. He smiled
condescendingly as he met Theos's half-surprised, half-inquiring
look, and saluted him with a gravely pompous air, which however,
was not without a saving touch of that indescribable, easy grace
which seemed to distinguish the manners of all the inhabitants of
Al-Kyris. Theos returned the salutation with equal gravity,
whereupon the new-comer waving his hand majestically, continued:

"You sir, I see, are young, . . and probably you are enrolled among
the advanced students of one or other of our great collegiate
institutions,--therefore the peculiar, though not at all unnatural
tint of the river this morning, is of course no mystery to you,
if, as I presume, you follow the Scientific Classes of Instruction
in the Physiology of Nature, of Manifestation of Simple and
Complex Motive Force, and the Perpetual Evolution of Atoms?"

Theos smiled,--the grandiloquent manner of this self-important
individual amused him.

"Most worthy sir," he replied, "you form too favorable an opinion
of my scholarly attainments! I am a stranger in Al-Kyris,--and
know naught of its educational system, or the interior mechanism
of its wondrous civilization! I come from far-off lands, where, if
I remember rightly, much is taught and but little retained,--where
petty pedagogues persist in dragging new generations of men
through old and worn-out ruts of knowledge that future ages shall
never have need of, . . and concerning even the progress of science,
I confess to a certain incredulity, seeing that to my mind Science
somewhat resembles a straight line drawn clear across country but
leading, alas! to an ocean wherein all landmarks are lost and
swallowed up in blankness. Over and over again the human race has
trodden the same pathway of research,--over and over again has it
stood bewildered and baffled on the shores of the same vast sea,--
the most marvellous discoveries are after all mere child's play
compared to the tremendous secrets that must remain forever
unrevealed; and the poor and trifling comprehension of things that
we, after a life-time of study, succeed in attaining, is only just
sufficient to add to our already burdened existence the
undesirable clogs of discontent and disappointed endeavor. We
die,--in almost as much ignorance as we were born, . . and when we
come face to face with the Last Dark Mystery, what shall our
little wisdom profit us?"

With his arms folded in an attitude of enforced patience and
complacent superiority, the other listened.

"Curious, . . curious!" he murmured in a mild sotto-voce,--"A would-
be pessimist!--aye, aye,--'tis very greatly the fashion for young
men in these days to assume the manner of elderly and exhausted
cynics who have tried everything and approve of nothing! 'Tis a
strange craze!--but, my good sir, let us keep to the subject at
present under discussion. Like all unripe philosophers, you wander
from the point. I did not ask you for your opinion concerning the
uselessness or the efficiency of learning,--I merely sought to
discover whether you, like the silly throng that lately scattered
right and left of you, had any foolish forebodings respecting the
transformed color of this river,--a color which, however seeming
peculiar, arises, as all good scholars know, from causes that are
perfectly simple and easily explainable."

Theos hesitated,--his eyes wandered involuntarily to the flowing
tide, which now with the fully risen sun seemed more than ever
brilliant and lurid in its sanguinary hue.

"Strange things have been said of late concerning Al-Kyris,--" he
answered at last, slowly and after a thoughtful pause,--"Things
that, though wild and vague, are not without certain dark presages
and ominous suggestions. This crimson flood may be, as you say,
the natural effect of purely natural causes,--yet, notwithstanding
this, it seems to me a singular phenomenon--nay, even a weird and
almost fatal augury?"

His companion laughed--a gentle, careless laugh of amused disdain.

"Phenomenon! ... augury! ..." he exclaimed shrugging his
shoulders lightly ... "These words, my young friend, are terms
that nowadays belong exclusively to the vocabulary of the
uneducated masses; we,--and by WE, I mean scientists, and men of
the highest culture,--have long ago rejected them as unmeaning and
therefore unnecessary. Phenomenon is a particularly vile
expression, serving merely to designate anything wonderful and
uncommon,--whereas to the scientific eye, there is nothing left in
the world that ought to excite so vulgar and barbarous an emotion
as wonder, . . nothing so apparently rare that cannot be reduced at
once from the ignorant exaggerations of enthusiasm to the sensible
level of the commonplace? The so-called 'marvels' of nature have,
thanks to the advancement of practical education, entirely ceased
to affect by either surprise or admiration the carefully matured,
mathematically adjusted, and technically balanced brain of the
finished student or professor of Organic Evolution,--and as for
the idea of 'auguries' or portents, nothing could well be more
entirely at variance with our present system of progressive
learning, whereby Human Reason is trained and taught to pulverize
into indistinguishable atoms all supernatural propositions, and to
gradually eradicate from the mind the absurd notion of a Deity or
deities, whom it is necessary to propitiate in order to live well.
Much time is of course required to elevate the multitude above all
desire for a Religion,--but the seed has been sown, and the
harvest will be reaped, and a glorious Era is fast approaching,
when the free-thinking, free-speaking people of all nations shall
govern themselves and rejoice in the grand and God-less Light of
Universal Liberty?"

Somewhat heated by the fervor of his declamatory utterance, he
passed his hand among his straight locks, whether to cool his
forehead, or to show off the numerous jewelled rings on his
fingers, it was difficult to say, and continued more calmly:

"No, young sir!--the color of this river,--a color which, I
willingly admit, resembles the tint of flowing human blood,--has
naught to do with foolish omens and forecasts of evil,--'tis
simply caused by the influx of some foreign alluvial matter,
probably washed down by storm from, the sides of the distant
mountains whence these waters have their rising,--see you not how
the tide is thick and heavy with an unfloatable cargo of red sand?
Some sudden disturbance of the soil,--or a volcanic movement
underneath the ocean,--or even a distant earthquake, . . any of
these may be the reason."...

"May be?--why not say MUST be," observed Theos half ironically,
"since learning makes you sure!"

His companion pressed the tips of his fingers delicately together,
as though blandly deprecating this observation.

"Nay, nay!--none of us, however wise, can say 'MUST BE'"--he
argued suavely--"It is not,--strictly speaking,--possible in this
world to pronounce an incontestable certainty."

"Not even that two and two are four?" suggested Theos, smiling.

"Not even that!"...replied the other with perfect gravity--
"Inasmuch as in the kingdom of Hypharus, whose borders touch ours,
the inhabitants, also highly civilized, do count their quantities
by a totally different method; and to them two and two are NOT
four, the numbers two and four not being included in their system
of figures. Thus,--a Professor from the Colleges of Hypharus could
obstinately deny what to us seems the plainest fact known to
common-sense,--yet, were I to argue against him I should never
persuade him out of his theory,--nor could he move me one jot from
mine. And viewed from our differing standpoints, therefore, the
first simple multiplication of numbers could never be proved
correct beyond all question!"

Theos glanced at him in wonder,--the man must be mad, he thought,
since surely any one in his senses could see that two objects
placed with other two must necessarily make four!

"I confess you surprise me greatly, sir!"--he said, and, in spite
of himself, a little quiver of laughter shook his voice.. "What I
asked was by way of jest,--and I never thought to hear so simple a
subject treated with so much profound and almost doubting
seriousness! See!"--and he picked up four small stones from the
roadway--"Count these one by one, . . how many have you? Surely even
a professor from Hypharus could find no more, and no less than
four?"

Very deliberately, and with unruffled equanimity, the other took
the pebbles in his hand, turned them over and over, and finally
placed them in a row on the edge of the balustrade near which he
stood.

"There SEEM to be four, . ." he then observed placidly--"But I
would not swear to it,--nor to anything else of which the
actuality is only supported by the testimony of my own eyes and
sense of touch."

"Good heavens, man!" cried Theos, in amazement,--"But a moment
since, you were praising the excellence of Reason, and the
progressive system of learning that was to educate human beings
into a contempt for the Supernatural and Spiritual, and yet almost
in the same breath you tell me you cannot rely on the evidence of
your own senses! Was there ever anything more utterly incoherent
and irrational!"

And he flung the pebbles into the redly flowing river with a
gesture of irritation and impatience. The scientist,--if scientist
he could be called,--gazed at him abstractedly, and stroked his
well-shaven chin with a somewhat dejected air. Presently heaving a
deep sigh, he said:

"Alas, I have again betrayed myself! ... 'tis my fatal destiny!
Always, by some unlooked-for mischance, I am compelled to avow
what most I desire to conceal! Can you not understand, sir,"--and
he laid his hand persuasively on Theos's arm,--"that a Theory may
be one thing and one's own private opinion another? My Theory is
my profession,--I live by it! Suppose I resigned it,--well, then I
should also have to resign my present position in the Royal
Institutional College,--my house, my servants, and my income. I
advance the interests of pure Human Reason, because the Age has a
tendency to place Reason as the first and highest attribute of
Man,--and it would not pay me to pronounce my personal preference
for the natural and vastly superior gift of Intellectual Instinct.
I advise my scholars to become atheists, because I perceive they
have a positive passion for Atheism, and it is not my business,
nor would it be to my advantage to interfere with the declared
predilections of my wealthiest patrons. Concerning my own ideas on
these matters, they are absolutely NIL, ... I have no fixed
principles,--because"--and his brows contracted in a puzzled line
--"it is entirely out of my ability to fix anything! The whole
world of manners and morals is in a state of perpetual ferment and
consequent change,--equally restless and mutable is the world of
Nature, for at any moment mountains may become plains, and plains
mountains,--the dry land may be converted into oceans, and oceans
into dry land, and so on forever. In this incessant shifting of
the various particles that make up the Universe, how can you
expect a man to hold fast to so unstable a thing as an idea! And,
respecting the testimony offered by sight and sense, can YOU rely
upon such slippery evidence?"

Theos moved uneasily,--a slight shiver ran through his veins, and
a momentary dizziness seized him, as of one who gazing down from
some lofty mountain-peak sees naught below but the white,
deceptive blankness of a mist that veils the deeper deathful
chasms from his eyes. COULD he rely on sight and sense...DARED he
take oath that these frail guides of his intelligence could never
be deceived? ... Doubtfully he mused on this, while his companion
continued:

"For example, I look an arm's length into space, . . my eyes assure
me that I behold nothing save empty air,--my touch corroborates
the assertion of my eyes,--and yet, . . Science proves to me that
every inch of that arm's length of supposed blank space is filled
with thousands of minute living organisms that no human vision
shall ever be able to note or examine! Wonder not, therefore, that
I decline to express absolute confidence in any fact, however
seemingly obvious, such as that two and two are four, and that I
prefer to say the blood-red color of this river MAY be caused by
an earth-tremor or a land-slip, rather than positively assert that
it MUST be so; though I confess that, as far as my knowledge
guides me, I incline to the belief that 'MUST be' is in this
instance the correct term."