Books: Ardath

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Instinctively he drew Sah-luma away. ... away! ... still keeping
his wistful gaze fixed on that uncomprehended, yet soul-recognized
Symbol, till gradually the drooping branches of trees interrupted
and shadowed the vista, and, as he moved further and further
backward, closed their soft network of green foliage like the
closing curtain on the strange but awfully remembered scene,
shutting it out from his bewildered sight.. forever!

CHAPTER XXV.

A GOLDEN TRESS.

Once clear of the Square the two friends apparently became
mutually conscious of the peril they had just escaped, . . and
coming to a sudden standstill they looked at each other in blank,
stupefied silence. Crowds of people streamed past them, wandering
hither and thither in confused, cloudy masses,--some with groans
and dire lamentations bearing away their dead and wounded,--others
rushing frantically about, beating their breasts, tearing their
hair, calling on the gods and lamenting Khosrul, while not a few
muttered curses on the King. And ever and anon the name of
"Lysia," coupled with heavy execrations, was hissed from mouth to
mouth, which Theos, overhearing, began to foresee might serve as a
likely cause for Sah-luma's taking offence and possibly resenting
in his own person this public disparagement of the woman he
loved,--therefore, without more ado he roused himself from his
momentarily dazed condition, and urged his comrade on at a quick
pace toward the safe shelter of his own palace, where at any rate
he could be kept out of the reach of immediate harm.

The twain walked side by side, exchanging scarcely a word,--Sah-
luma seemed in a manner stunned by the violence of the late
catastrophe, and Theos was too busy with his own thoughts to
speak. On their way they were overtaken by the King's chariot,--it
flew by with a glittering whirl and clatter, amid sweeping clouds
of dust, through which the dark face of Zephoranim loomed out upon
them like an almost palpable shadow. As it vanished Sah-luma
stopped short, and stared at his companion in utter amazement.

"By my soul!" he exclaimed indignantly.. "The whole world must he
going mad! 'Tis the first time in all my days of Laureateship that
Zephoranim hath failed to reverently salute me as he passed!"

And he looked far more perturbed than when the falling Obelisk
had threatened him with imminent destruction.

Theos caught his arm with a quick movement of vexed impatience.

"Tush, man, no matter!" he said hastily--"What are Kings to thee?
... thou who art an Emperor of Song? These little potentates that
wield earth's sceptres are as fickle in their moods as the very
mob they are supposed to govern, . . moreover, thou knowest
Zephoranim hath had enough to-day to startle him out of all
accustomed rules of courtesy. Be assured of it, his mind is like a
ship at sea, storm-tossed and at the mercy of the winds,--thou
canst not surely blame him, that for once after so strange a
turbulence, and unwonted a disaster, he hath no eyes for thee
whose sole sweet mission, is to minister to pleasure."

"To minister to pleasure!".. echoed Sah-luma petulantly.. "Nay,
have I done nothing more than this? Art thou already grown so
disloyal a friend that thou wilt half repeat the jargon of yon
dead fanatic Khosrul who dared to tell me I had served my Art
unfittingly? Have I not ministered to grief as well as joy? To
hours of pain and bitterness, as well as to long days of ease and
amorous dreaming? ... Have I not..." here he paused and a warm
flush crept through the olive pallor of his skin,--his eyes grew
plaintive and wistful and he threw one arm round Theos's neck as
he continued: "No I.. after all 'tis vain to deny it...I have
hated grief,--I have loathed the very suggestion of care,--I have
thrust sorrow out of my sight as a thing vile and unwelcome,--and
I have chosen to sing to the world of rapture more than pain,--
inasmuch as methinks Humanity suffers enough, without having its
cureless anguish set to the music of a poet's rhythm to
incessantly haunt and torture its already breaking heart."

"Say rather to soothe and tranquillize"--murmured Theos, more to
himself than to his friend--"For suppressed sorrow is hardest to
endure, and when grief once finds apt utterance 'tis already half
consoled! So should the world's great singers tenderly proclaim
the world's most speechless miseries, and who knows but vexed
Creation being thus relieved of pent-up woe may not take new heart
of grace and comfort?"

The words were spoken in a soft SOTTO-VOCE, and Sah-luma seemed
not to hear. He leaned, however, very confidingly and
affectionately against Theos's shoulder as he walked along, and
appeared to have speedily forgotten his annoyance at the recent
slighting conduct of the King.

"I marvel at the downfall of the Obelisk!" he said presently ...
"'Twas rooted full ten feet deep in solid earth, . . maybe the
foundations were ill-fitted,--nevertheless, if history speaks
truly, it hath stood unshaken for two thousand years! Strange that
it should be now hurled forth thus desperately! ... I would I knew
the hidden cause! Many, alas! have met their death to-day, . .
pushed out of life in haste, . . all unprepared.. One wonders where
such souls have fled! Something there is that troubles me, . .
methinks I am more than half disposed to leave Al-Kyris for a
time, and wander forth into a world of unknown things--"

"With me!" cried Theos impetuously--"Come with me, Sah-luma! ...
Come now, this very day! I too have been warned of evil.. evil
undeclared, yet close at hand, ..let us escape from danger while
time remains! ... Let us depart!"

"Whither should we go?"...and Sah-luma, pausing in his walk, fixed
his large, soft eyes full on his companion as he put the question.

Theos was mute. Covered with confusion, he asked himself the same
thing. "Whither should we go?" He had no knowledge of the country
that lay outside Al-Kyris, . . he had no distinct remembrance of any
other place than this in which he was. All his past existence was
as blotted and blurred as a child's spoiled and discarded
copybook, . . true, he retained two names in his thoughts,--namely
"ARDATH" and "THE PASS OF DARIEL" but he was hopelessly ignorant
as to what these meant or how he had become connected with them!
He was roused from his distressful cogitation by Sah-luma's voice
speaking again half gayly, half sadly:

"Nay, nay, my friend! ... we cannot leave the City, we two alone
and unguided, for beyond the gates is the desert wide and bare,
with scarce a spring of cool water in many weary miles,--and
beyond the desert is a forest, gloomy and tiger haunted, wherein
the footsteps of man have seldom penetrated. To travel thus far we
should need much preparation, . . many servants, many beasts of
burden, and many months' provision.. moreover, 'tis a foolish,
fancy crossed my mind at best,--for what should I, the Laureate of
Al-Kyris, do in other lands? Besides, my departure would indeed be
the desolation of the city,--well may Al-Kyris fall when Sah-luma
no longer abides within it! Seawards the way lies open,--maybe, in
days to come, we twain may take ship and sail hence for a brief
sojourn to those distant western shores, whence thou, though thou
sayest naught of them, must assuredly have come; I have often
dreamed idly of a gray coast washed with dull rain and swathed in
sweeping mists, where ever and anon the sun shines through,--a
country cheerless, where a poet's fame like mine might ring the
darkness of the skies with light, and stir the sleepy silence into
song!"

Still Theos said nothing,--there were hot tears in his throat that
choked his utterance. He gazed up at the glowing sky above him,--
it was a burning vault of cloudless blue in which the sun glared
forth witheringly like a scorching mass of flame, . . Oh for the
freshness of a "gray coast washed with dull rain and swathed in
sweeping mists" ... such as Sah-luma spoke of! ... and what a
strange sickening yearning suddenly filled his soul for the
unforgotten sonorous dash of the sea! He drew a quick breath and
pressed his friend's arm with unconscious fervor, . . why, why could
he not take this dear companion away out of possible peril? ...
away to those far lands dimly remembered, yet now so completely
lost sight of, that they seemed to him but as a delusive mirage
faintly discerned above the rising waters of Lethe! Sighing
deeply, he controlled his emotion and forced himself to speak
calmly though his voice trembled..

"Not now then, but hereafter, thou'lt be my fellow-traveller, Sah-
luma? ... 'twill be a joyous time when we, set free of present
hindrance, may journey through a myriad glorious scenes together,
sharing such new and mutual gladness that perchance we scarce
shall miss the splendor of Al-Kyris left behind! Meanwhile I would
that thou couldst promise me one thing,".. here he paused, but,
seeing Sah-luma's inquiring look, went on in a low, eager tone!
"Go not to the Temple to-night!--absent thyself from this
Sacrifice, which, though it be the law of the realm, is
nevertheless mere murderous barbarity,--and--inasmuch as the King
is wrathful--I pray thee avoid his presence!"

Sah-luma broke into a laugh.. "Now by my faith, good comrade, as
well ask me for my head as demand such impossibilities! Absent
myself from the temple to-night of all nights in the world, when
owing to these late phenomenal occurrences in the city, every one
who is of repute and personal distinction will be present to
assist at the Service and offer petitions to the fabulous gods
that haply their supposititious indignation may be averted? My
friend, if only for the sake of custom I must be there, . .
moreover, I should be liable to banishment from the realm for so
specially marked a breach of religious discipline! And as for the
King, he is my puppet; were he savage as a starving bear my voice
could tame him,--and concerning his late churlishness 'twas no
doubt mere heat of humor, and thou shalt see him sue to me for
pardon as only monarchs can sue to the bards who keep them in
their thrones! Knowest thou not that were I to string three
stanzas of a fiery republican ditty, and set it floating on the
lips of the people, that song would sing down Zephoranim from his
royal estate more surely than the fury of an armed conqueror!
Believe it!--WE, the poets, rule the nation, . . A rhyme has oft had
power to kill a king!"

Theos smiled at the proud boast, but made no reply, as by this
time they had reached the Laureate's palace, and were ascending
the steps that led into the entrance-hall. A young page advanced
to meet them, and, dropping on one knee before his master, held
out a small scroll tied across and across with what appeared to be
a thick strand of amber-colored floss silk.

"For the most illustrious Chief of Poets, Sah-luma" ... said the
little lad, keeping his head bent humbly as he spoke ... "It was
brought lately by one masked, who rode in haste and fear, and, ere
he could be questioned, swift departed."

Sah-luma took the missive carelessly, scarcely glancing at it, and
crossed the hall toward his own apartment, Theos following him. On
his way, however, he paused and turned round:

"Has Niphrata yet come home?" he demanded of the page who still
lingered.

"No, my lord! ... naught hath been seen or heard concerning her."

Sah-luma gave a petulant gesture of annoyance and passed on.
Arrived in his study he seated himself, and allowed his eyes to
rest more attentively on the packet just given him. As he looked
he uttered a slight exclamation, . . Theos hastened to his side.
"What has happened, Sah-luma? ... hast thou ill news?"

"Ill news?--nay, of a truth I know not".. and the Laureate gazed
up blankly into his friend's face.. "But this" ... and he touched
the fair silken substance that tied the scroll he held, "this is
Niphrata's hair!"

"Niphrata's hair!".. Theos was too much surprised to do more than
repeat the words mechanically, while a strange pang shot through
his heart as of inward shame or sorrow.

"Naught can deceive me in the color of that gold!" went on Sah-
luma dreamily, as with careful, somewhat tremulous fingers, he
gently loosened the twisted shining threads that were so
delicately knotted together, and smoothing them out to their full
length, displayed what was indeed a lovely tress of hair bright as
woven sunlight with a rippling wave in it that, like the tendril
of a vine caught and wound about his hand as though it were a fond
and feeling thing.

"See you not, Theos, how warm and soft and shuddering a curl it
is? ... It clings to me as if it knew my touch!--as if it half
remembered how many and many a time it had been drawn with its
companions to my lips and kissed full tenderly! ... How sad and
desolate it seems thus severed and alone!"

He spoke gently, yet not without a touch of passion, and twined
the fair tresses lingeringly round his fingers, ..then, with the
air of one who is instinctively prepared for some unpleasing
tidings, he opened the scroll and perused its contents in silence.
As he read on, his face grew very grave, and full of pained and
wondering regret.. quietly he passed the missive to Theos, who
took it from his hand with a tremor of something like fear. The
delicately traced characters with which it was covered floated for
a moment in a faint blur before his eyes,--then they resolved
themselves into legible shape and meaning, as follows:

"To the ever-worshiped and immortally renowned
"Sah-luma.
"Poet-Laureate of the Kingdom of Al-Kyris.
"Blame me not, O my beloved Lord, that I have left thy
dearest presence thus unwarnedly forever, staying no time to weary
thee with my too fond and foolish tears and kisses of farewell! I
owe to thee the gift of freedom, and while I thank thee for that
gift, I do employ it now to serve me as a sacrifice to Love,--an
immolation of myself upon the altars of my own desire! For thou
knowest I have loved thee, O Sah-luma--not too well but most
unwisely,--for what am I that thou shouldst stoop to cover my
unworthiness with the royal purple of thy poet-passion? ... what
could I ever be save the poor trembling slave-idolater, of whose
endearments thou must needs most speedily tire! Nevertheless I
cannot still this hunger of my heart,--this love that stings me
more than it consoles,--and out of the very transport of my
burning thoughts I have learned many and strange things,--things
whereby I, a woman feebled and unlessoned, have grasped the
glimmering foreknowledge of events to come,--events wherein I do
perceive for thee, thou Chiefest among men, some dark and
threatening disaster. When fore I have prayed unto the most high
gods, that they will deign to accept me as thy hostage to
misfortune, and set me as a bar between thy life and dawning
peril, so that I, long valueless, may serve at least awhile to
avert doom from thee who art unparagoned throughout the world!

"Thus I go forth alone to brave and pacify the wrath of the
Immortals,--call me not back nor weep for my departure, . . thou
wilt not miss me long! To die for thee, Sah-luma, is better than
to live for thee, . . for living I must needs be conquered by my sin
of love and lose myself and thee,--but in the quiet Afterwards of
Death, no passion shall have strength to mar the peaceful, patient
waiting of my soul on thine! Farewell thou utmost heart of my weak
heart! ..thou only life of my frail life! ... think of me
sometimes if thou will, but only as of a flower thou didst gather
once in some past half-forgotten spring-time.. a flower that, as
it slowly withered, blessed the dear hand in whose warm clasp it
died! "NIPHRATA."

Tears rose to Theos's eyes as he finished reading these evidently
unpremeditated pathetic words that suggested so much more than
they actually declared. He silently returned the scroll to Sah-
luma, who sat very still, thoughtfully stroking the long, bright
curl that was twisted round his fingers like a glittering strand
of spun glass,--and he felt all at once so unreasonably irritated
with his friend, that he was even inclined to find fault with the
very grace and beauty of his person, . . the mere indolence of his
attitude was, for the moment, provoking.

"Why art thou so unmoved?" he demanded almost sternly.

"What hast thou done to Niphrata, to thus grieve her gentle spirit
beyond remedy?"

Sah-luma looked up, like a surprised child.

"Done? ... Nay, what should I do? ... I have let her love me!"

O sublime permission! ... he had "LET HER LOVE" him! ... He had
condescendingly allowed her, as it were, to waste all the
treasures of her soul upon him! Theos stared at him in vague
amazement,--while he, apparently tired of his own reflections,
continued with some impatience:

"What more could she desire? ... I never barred her from my
presence, ... nor checked the fervor of her greetings! I wore the
flowers she chose,--I listened to the songs she sang, and when she
looked more fair than ordinary I stinted not the warmth of my
caresses. She was too meek and loving for my fancy ... no will
save mine--no happiness save in my company,--no thought beyond my
pleasure--one wearies of such a fond excess of sweetness!
Nevertheless her sole delight was still to serve me,--could I
debar her from that joy because I saw therein some danger for her
peace? Slave as she was, I made her free--and lo! how capriciously
she plays with her late-given liberty! 'Tis always the way with
women,--no man shall ever learn how best to please them! She knew
I loved her not as lovers love,--she knew my heart was elsewhere
fixed and fated ... and if, notwithstanding this knowledge, she
still chose to love me, then assuredly her grief is of her own
creating! Methinks 'tis I who am most injured in this matter! ...
all the day long I have tormented myself concerning the silly
maiden's absence, while she, seized by some crazed idea of new
adventure, has gone forth heedlessly, scarce knowing whither. Her
letter is the exalted utterance of an overwrought, excited brain,
--she has in all likelihood caught the contagion of superstitious
alarm that seems just now to possess the whole city, and she knows
naught of what she writes or what she means to do. To leave me
forever, as she says, is out of her power,--for I will demand her
back at the hands of Lysia or the King,--and no demand of mine has
ever been refused. Moreover, with Lysia's aid, her hiding-place is
soon and easily discovered!"

"How?" asked Theos mechanically, still surveying the beautiful,
calm features of the charming egotist whose nature seemed such a
curious mixture of loftiness and littleness.. "She may have left
the city!"

"No one can leave the city without express permission,"--rejoined
Sah-luma tranquilly--"Besides, . . didst thou not see the Black Disc
last night in Lysia's palace?"

Theos nodded assent. He at once remembered the strange revolving
thing that had covered itself with brilliant letters at the
approach of the High Priestess, and he waited somewhat eagerly to
hear the meaning of so singular an object explained.

"The Priest of the Temple of Nagaya,"--went on Sah-luma--"are the
greatest scientists in the world, with the exception of the lately
formed Circle of Mystics, who it must he confessed exceed them in
certain new lines of discovery. But setting aside the Mystic
School, which it behoves us not to speak of, seeing it is
condemned by law,--there are no men living more subtly wise in
matters pertaining to aerial force and light-phenomena, than the
Servants of the Secret Doctrine of the Temple. All seeming-
marvellous things are to them mere child's play,--and the miracles
by which they keep the multitude in awe are not by any means
vulgar, but most exquisitely scientific. As, for instance, at the
great New Year Festival, called by us 'The Sailing-Forth of the
Ship of the Sun,'--which takes place at the commencement of the
Spring solstice, a fire is kindled on the summit of the highest
tower, and a Ship of gold rises from the centre of the flames,
carrying the body of a slain virgin eastwards, . . 'tis wondrously
performed! ... and I, like others, have gaped upon the splendor of
the scene half-credulous, and wholly dazzled! For the Ship doth
rise aloft with excellent stateliness, plowing the air with as
much celerity as sailing-vessels plow the seas; departing
straightway from the watching eyes of thousands of spectators, it
plunges deep, or so it seems, into the very heart of the rising
Sun, which doth apparently absorb it in devouring flames of glory,
for never again doth it return to earth, . . and none can solve the
mystery of its vanishing! 'Tis a graceful piece of jugglery and
perfectly accomplished, . . while as for Oracles [Footnote: The
Phonograph was known and used for the utterance of Oracles by one
Savan the Asmounian, a Priest-King of ancient Egypt.] that command
and repeat their commands in every shade of tone, from mild to
wrathful, there are only too many of these, . . moreover the secret
of their manufacture is well known to all students of acoustic
science. But concerning the Black Disc in Lysia's hall, it is a
curiously elaborate piece of workmanship. It corresponds with an
electric wheel in the Interior Chamber of the Temple, where all
the priests and flamens meet and sum up the entire events of the
day, both public and private, condensing the same into brief
hieroglyphs. Setting their wheel in motion, they start a similar
motion in the Disc, and the bright characters that flash upon it
and disappear like quicksilver, are the reflection of the working
electric wires which write what only Lysia is skilled to read.
From sunset to midnight these messages keep coming without
intermission,--and all the most carefully concealed affairs of Al-
Kyris are discovered by the Temple Spies and conveyed to Lysia by
this means. Whatever the news, it is repeated again and again on
the Disc, till she, by rapidly turning it with a peculiar movement
of her own, causes a small bell to ring in the Temple, which
signifies to her informers that she has understood all their
communications, and knows everything. Her inquisitorial system is
searching and elaborate, . . there is no secret so carefully guarded
that the Black Disc will not in time reveal!"

Theos listened wonderingly and with a sense of repugnance and
fear, ... he felt as though the beautiful Priestess, with her
glittering robes and the dreadful jewelled Eye upon her breast,
were just then entering the room stealthily and rustling hither
and thither like a snake beneath covering leaves. She was an ever-
present Temptation,--a bewildering snare and distracting evil,--
was it not possible to shake her trail off the life of his friend-
and also to pluck from out his own heart the poison-sting of her
fatal, terrible fascination? A red mist swam before his eyes--his
lips were dry and feverish,--his voice sounded hoarse and faint in
his own ears when he forced himself to speak again.

"So thou dost think that, wheresoever Niphrata hath strayed, Lysia
can find her?" he said.

"Assuredly!" returned Sah-luma with easy complacency--"I would
swear that, even at this very moment, Lysia could restore her to
my arms in safety."

"Then why" ... suggested Theos anxiously--"why not go forth and
seek her now?"

"Nay, there is time!" ... and Sah-luma half closed his languid
lids and stretched himself lazily. "I would not have the child
imagine I vexed myself too greatly for her unkind departure, . . she
must have space wherein to weep and repent her of her folly. She
is the strangest maiden!" ... and he brushed his lips lightly
against the golden curl he held,--She loves me, . . and yet repulses
all attempted passion,--I remember" ... here his face grew more
serious--"I remember one night in the beginning of summer,--the
moon was round and high in heaven,--we were alone together in this
room,--the lamps burned low,--and she.. Niphrata, . . sang to me.
Her voice was full, and withal tremulous,--her form, bent to her
ebony harp was soft and yielding as an iris stem, her eyes turned
upon mine seemed wonderingly to question me as to the worth of
love! ... or so I fancied. The worth of love! ... I would have
taught it to her then in the rapture of an hour!--but seized with
sudden foolish fear she fled, leaving me dissatisfied,
indifferent, and weary! No matter! when she returns again her mood
will alter, . . and though I love her not as she would fain be
loved, I shall find means to make her happy."

"Nay, but she speaks of dying".. said Theos quickly ... "Wilt thou
constrain her back from death?"

"My friend, all women speak of dying when they are love-wearied"
... replied Sah-luma with a slight smile ... "Niphrata will not
die, ... she is too young and fond of life, ... the world is as a
garden wherein she has but lately entered, all ignorant of the
pleasures that await her there. 'Tis an odd notion that she has of
danger threatening me,--thou also, good Theos, art become full of
omens,--and yet, . . there is naught of visible ill to trouble the
fairness of the day."