Books: Ardath

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He stepped out as he spoke on the terrace and looked up at the
intense calm of the lovely sky. Theos followed him, and stood
leaning on the balustrade among the clambering vines, watching him
with earnest, half-regretful half-adoring eyes. He, meanwhile,
gathered a scarcely opened white rosebud and loosening the tress
of Niphrata's hair from his fingers, allowed it to hang to its
full rippling length,--then laying the flower against it, he
appeared dreamily to admire the contrast between the snowy blossom
and shining curl.

"Many strange men there are in the world," he said softly--"lovers
and fools who set priceless store on a rose and a lock of woman's
hair! I have heard of some who, dying, have held such trifles as
chiefest of all their worldly goods, and have implored that
whereas their gold and household stuff can be bestowed freely on
him who first comes to claim it, the faded flower and senseless
tress may be laid on their hearts to comfort them in the cold and
dreamless sleep from which they shall not wake again!" He sighed
and his eyes darkened into deep and musing tenderness. "Poets there
have been too and are, who would string many a canticle on this
soft severed lock and gathered blossom,--and many a quaint conceit
could I myself contrive concerning it, did I not feel more prone
to tears to-day than minstrelsy. Canst thou believe it, Theos"--
and he forced a laugh, though his lashes were wet, . . "I, the
joyous Sah-luma, am for once most truly sad! ... this tress of
hair doth seem to catch my spirit in a chain that binds me fast
and draws me onward.. onward.. to some mournful end I may not dare
to see!"

And as he spoke he mechanically wound the golden curl round and
about the stem of the rosebud in the fashion of a ribbon, and
placed the two entwined together in his breast. Theos looked at
him wistfully, but was silent, . . he himself was too full of dull
and melancholy misgivings to be otherwise than sad also.
Instinctively he drew closer to his friend's side, and thus they
remained for some minutes, exchanging no words, and gazing
dreamily out on the luxurious foliage of the trees and the wealth
of bright blossoms that adorned the landscape before them.

"Thou art confident Niphrata will return?" questioned Theos
presently in a low tone.

"She will return,".. rejoined Sah-luma quietly--"because she will
do anything for love of me."

"For love's sake she may die!" said Theos. Sah-luma smiled.

"Not so, my friend! ... for love's sake she will live!"

CHAPTER XXVI.

THE PRIEST ZEL.

As he uttered the last word the sound of an approaching light step
disturbed the silence. It was one of the young girls of the
household, . . a dark, haughty-looking beauty whom Theos remembered
to have seen in the palace-hall when he first arrived, lying
indolently among cushions, and playing with a tame bird which flew
to and fro at her beckoning. She advanced now with an almost
imperial stateliness,--her salute to Sah-luma was grateful, yet
scarcely submissive,--while he, turning eagerly toward her, seemed
gladdened and relieved at her appearance, his face assuming a
gratified expression like that of a child who, having broken one
toy, is easily consoled with another.

"Welcome, Irenya!" he exclaimed gayly--"Thou art the very bitter-
sweetness I desire. Thy naughty pout and coldly mutinous eyes are
pleasing contrasts to the overlanguid heat and brightness of the
day! What news hast thou, my sweet? ... Is there fresh havoc in
the city? ... more deaths? ... more troublous tidings? ... nay,
then hold thy peace, for thou art not a fit messenger of woe--
thou'rt much too fair!"

Irenya's red lips curled disdainfully, . . the "naughty pout" was
plainly visible.

"My lord is pleased to flatter his slave!" she said with a touch
of scorn in her musical accents, . . "Certes, of ill news there is
more than enough,--and evil rumors have never been lacking these
many months, as my lord would have known, had he deigned to listen
to the common talk of those who are not poets but merely sad and
suffering men. Nevertheless, though I may think, I speak not at
all of matters such as these,--and for my present errand 'tis but
to say that a Priest of the Inner Temple waits without, desirous
of instant speech with the most illustrious Sah-luma."

"A Priest of the Inner Temple!" echoed the Laureate wonderingly, . .
"By my faith, a most unwelcome visitor! ... What business can he
have with me?"

"Nay, that I know not"--responded Irenya calmly--"He hath come
hither, so he bade me say, by command of The Absolute Authority."

Sah-luma's face flushed and he looked annoyed. Then taking Theos
by the arm he turned away from the terrace, and re-entered his
apartment, where he flung himself full length on his couch,
pillowing his handsome head against a fold of glossy leopard skin
which formed a most becoming background for the soft, dark oval
beauty of his features.

"Sit thee down, my friend!" he said glancing smilingly at Theos,
and signing to him to take possession of a luxurious lounge-chair
near him.. "If we must needs receive this sanctified professor of
many hypocrisies, we will do it with suitable indifference and
ease. Wilt thou stay here with us, Irenya," he added, stretching
out one arm and catching the maiden round the waist in spite of
her attempted resistance.. "Or art thou in a froward mood, and
wilt thou go thine own proud way without so much as a consoling
kiss from Sah-luma?"

Irenya looked full at him, a repressed anger blazing in her large
black eyes.

"Let my lord save his kisses for those who value them!" she said
contemptuously, "'Twere pity he should waste them upon me, to whom
they are unmeaning and therefore all unwelcome!"

He laughed heartily, and instantly loosened her from his embrace.

"Off, off with thee, sweet virtue! ... fairest prude!" he cried,
still laughing.. "Live out thy life an thou wilt, empty of love or
passion--count the years as they slip by, leaving thee each day
less lovely and less fit for pleasure, ... grow old,--and on the
brink of death, look back, poor child, and see the glory thou hast
missed and left behind thee! ... the light of love and youth that,
once departed, can dawn again no more!"

And lifting himself slightly from his cushions he kissed his hand
playfully to the girl, who, as though suddenly overcome by a sort
of vague regret, still lingered, gazing at him, while a faint
color crept through her cheeks like the deepening hue on the
leaves of an opening rose. Sah-luma saw her hesitation, and his
face grew yet more radiant with malicious mirth.

"Hence.. hence, Irenya!" he exclaimed--"Escape temptation quickly
while thou mayest! Support thy virgin pride in peace! ... thou
shalt never say again Sah-luma's kisses are unwelcome! The Poet's
touch shall never wrong or sanctify thy name!--thou art safe from
me as pillared icicles in everlasting snow! Dear little one, be
happy without love if that be possible! ... nevertheless take heed
thou do not weakly clamor in the after-years for once rejected
joy!--Now bid yon waiting Priest attend me,--tell him I can but
spare a few brief moments audience."

Irenya's head drooped,--Theos saw tears in her eyes,--but she
managed to restrain them, and with something of a defiant air she
made her formal obeisance and withdrew. She did not return again,
but a page appeared instead, ushering in with ceremonious civility
a tall personage, clad in flowing white robes and muffled up to
the eyes in a mantle of silver tissue,--a majestic, mysterious,
solemn-looking individual, who, pausing on the threshold of the
apartment, described a circle in the air with a small staff he
carried, and said in monotonous accents:

"By the going-in and passing-out of the Sun through the Gates of
the East and the Gates of the West,--by the Vulture of Gold and
White Lotus and the countless virtues of Nagaya, may peace dwell
in this house forever!"

"Agreed to with all my heart!" responded Sah-luma, carelessly
looking up from his couch but making no attempt to rise, . . "Peace
is an excellent thing, most holy father!"

"Excellent!" returned the Priest slowly advancing and undoing his
mantle so that his face became fully visible,--"So truly excellent
indeed, that at times it is needful to make war in order to insure
it."

He sat down, as he spoke, in a chair which was placed for him at
Sah-luma's bidding by the page who had ushered him in, and he
maintained a grave silence till that youthful servitor had
departed. Theos meanwhile studied his countenance with some
curiosity,--it was so strangely impassive, yet at the same time so
full of distinctly marked intellectual power. The features were
handsome but also singularly repulsive,--they were rendered in a
certain degree dignified by a full, dark beard which, however,
failed entirely to conceal the receding chin, and compressed,
cruel mouth,--the eyes were keen and crafty and very clear,--the
forehead was high and intelligent, and deeply furrowed with lines
that seemed to be the result of much pondering over close and
cunning calculation, rather than the marks of profound, unselfish,
and ennobling thought. The page having left the room, Sah-luma
began the conversation:

"To what unexpected cause, most righteous sir, am I indebted for
the honor of this present visit? Methinks I recognize the
countenance of the famous Zel, the High-Priest of the Sacrificial
Altar--if so, 'tis marvellous so great a man should venture forth
alone and unattended, to the house of one who loves not priestly
company, and who hath at best for all professors of religion a
somewhat indifferent welcome!"

The Priest smiled coldly.

"Most rightly dost thou speak, Sah-luma"--he answered, his
measured, metallic voice seeming to strike a wave of chilling
discord through the air, "and most frankly hast thou thus declared
one of thy many deficiencies! Atheist as thou art and to that
manner born, thou art in very deed outside the pale of all
religious teaching and consolement, . . nevertheless there is much
gentle mercy shown thee by the Virgin Priestess of Nagaya".. here
he solemnly bent his head and made the rapid sign of a Circle on
his breast, . . "who, knowing thy great genius, doth ever strive
with thoughtful zeal to draw thee closely within the saving Silver
Veil! Yet it is possible that even her patience with thy sins may
tire at last,--wherefore while there is time, offer due penance to
the offended gods and humble thy stiff heart before the Holy Maid,
lest she expel thee from her sight forever." He paused, . . a
satirical, half-amused smile hovered round Sah-luma's delicate
mouth--his eyes flashed.

"All this is the mere common rhetoric of the Temple Craft"--he
said indolently.. "Why not, good Zel, give plainer utterance to
thine errand?--we know each other's follies well enough to spare
formalities! Lysia has sent thee hither, . . what then? ... what
says the beauteous Virgin to her willing slave?"

An undertone of mockery rang through the languid silvery sweetness
of his accents, and the Priest's dark brows knitted in an
irritated frown.

"Thou art over-flippant of speech, Sah-luma!" he observed
austerely. "Take heed thou be not snared into misfortune by the
glibness of thy tongue! Thou dost speak of the chaste Lysia with
unseemly lightness.--learn to be reverent, and so shalt thou be
wiser!"

Sah-luma laughed and settled himself more easily on his couch,
turning in such a manner as to look the stately Zel full in the
face. They exchanged one glance, expressive as it seemed of some
mutual secret understanding,--for the Priest coughed as though he
were embarrassed, and stroked his beard deliberately with one hand
in an endeavor to hide the strange smile that, despite his efforts
to conceal it, visibly lightened his cold eyes to a sudden
tigerish brilliancy.

"The mission with which I am charged," he resumed presently,--"is
to thee, Chief Laureate of the realm, and runs as followeth:
Whereas thou hast of late avoided many days of public service in
the Temple, so that those among the people who admire thee follow
thine ill example, and absent themselves also with equal
readiness,--the Priestess Undefiled, the noble Lysia, doth to-
night command thy presence as a duty not to be foregone. Therefore
come thou and take thy part in the Great Sacrifice, for these late
tumults and disaster in the city, notably the perplexing downfall
of the Obelisk, have caused all hearts to fail and sink for very
fear. The river darkens in its crimson hue each hour by passing
hour,--strange noises have been heard athwart the sky and in the
deeper underground, . . and all these drear unwonted things are so
many cogent reasons why we should in solemn unison implore the
favor of Nagaya and the gods whereby further catastrophes may be
perchance averted. Moreover for motives of most urgent state-
policy it is advisable that all who hold place, dignity, and
renown within the city should this night be seen as fervent
supplicants before the Sacred Shrine,--so may much threatening
rebellion be appeased, and order be restored out of impending
confusion. Such is the message I am bidden to convey to thee,--
furthermore I am required to bear back again to the High Priestess
thy faithful promise that her orders shall be surely and entirely
obeyed. Thou art not wont".. and a pale sneer flitted over his
features.. "to set her mandate at defiance."

Sah-luma bit his lips angrily, and folded his arms above his head
with a lazy yet impatient movement.

"Assuredly I shall be present at the Service," he said curtly..
"There needed no such weighty summoning! 'Twas my intention to
join the ranks of worshippers to-night, though for myself I have
no faith in worship, . . the gods I ween are deaf, and care not a
jot whether we mortals weep or sing. Nevertheless I shall look on
with fitting gravity, and deport myself with due decorum
throughout the ceremonious Ritual, though verily I tell thee,
reverend Zel, 'tis tedious and monotonous at best, . . and
concerning the poor maiden-sacrifice, it is a shuddering horror we
could well dispense with."

"I think not so,".. replied the Priest calmly. "Thou, who art well
instructed in the capricious humors of men, must surely know how
dearly the majority of them love the shedding of blood,--'tis a
clamorous brute-instinct in them which must be satisfied. Better
therefore that we, the anointed Priests, should slay one willing
victim for the purposes of religion, than that they, the ignorant
mob, should kill a thousand to gratify their lust of murder. An
unresentful, all-loving Deity would be impossible of comprehension
to a mutually hating and malignant race of beings,--all creeds
must be accommodated to the dispositions of the million."

"Pardon me..." suddenly interrupted Theos, "I am a stranger, and
in a great measure ignorant of this city's customs, . . but I
confess I am amazed to hear a Priest uphold so specious an
argument! What! ... must divine Religion be dragged down from its
pure throne to pander to the selfish passions of the multitude?
... because men are vile, must a vile god be invented to suit
their savage caprices? ... because men are so cruel, must the
unseen Creator of things be delineated as even more barbarous than
they, in order to give them some pietistical excuse for
wickedness?--I ask these questions not out of wanton curiosity,
but for the sake of instruction!"

The haughty Zel turned upon him in severe astonishment.

"Sir," he said--"Stranger undoubtedly thou art,--and so bold a
manner of speech most truly savors of the utterly uneducated
western barbarian! All wise and prudent governments have learned
that a god fit for the adoration of men must be depicted as much
like men as possible,--any absolutely superhuman attributes are
unnecessary to the character of a useful deity, inasmuch as no man
ever will, or ever can, understand the worth of superhuman
qualities. Humanity is only capable of worshipping Self--thus, it
is necessary, that when people are persuaded to pay honor to an
elected Divinity, they should be well and comfortably assured in
their own minds that they are but offering homage to an Image of
Self placed before them in a deified or heroic form. This
satisfies the natural idolatrous cravings of Egotism, and this is
all that priests or teachers desire. Now in the worship of Nagaya,
we have the natures of Man and Woman conjoined, . . the Snake is the
emblem of male wisdom united with female subtilty--and the two
essences, mingled in one, make as near an approach to what we may
imagine the positive Divine capacity as can be devised on earth by
earthly intelligences. If, on the other hand, such an absurd
doctrine as that formulated in the fanatic madman Khosrul's
'Prophecy' could be imagined as actually admitted, and proclaimed
to the nations, it would have very few followers, and the
sincerity of those few might well be open to doubt. For the Deity
it speaks of is supposed to be an immortal God disguised as Man,--
a God who voluntarily rejects and sets aside His own glory to
serve and save His perishable creatures,--thus the root of that
religion would consist in Self-abnegation, and Self-abnegation is,
as experience proves, utterly impossible to the human being."

"Why is it impossible?" asked Theos with a quiver of passionate
earnestness in his voice,--"Are there none in all the world who
would sacrifice their own interests to further another's welfare
and happiness?"

The Priest smiled,--a delicately derisive smile.

"Certainly not!" he replied blandly.. "The very question strikes
me as singularly foolish, inasmuch as we live in a planet where,
if we do not serve ourselves and look after our own personal
advantage, we may as well die the minute we are born, or, better
still, never be born at all. There is no one living, . . at least
not in the wide realm of Al-Kyris,--who would put himself to the
smallest inconvenience for the sake of another, were that other
his nearest and dearest blood-relation. And in matters of love and
friendship, 'tis the same as in business,--each man eagerly
pursues his own chance of enjoyment,--even when he loves, or
fancies he loves, a woman, it is solely because her beauty or
attractiveness gives HIM temporary pleasure, not because he has
any tenderness or after-regard for the nature of HER feelings. How
can it be otherwise? ... We elect friends that are useful to US
personally,--we care little for THEIR intrinsic merit, and we only
tolerate them as long as they happen to suit OUR taste. For
generally, on the first occasion of a disagreement or difference
of opinion, we shake ourselves free of them without either regret
or remorse, and seek others who will be meek enough not to offer
us any open contradiction. It is, and it must be always so: Self
is the first person we are bound to consider, and all religions,
if they are intended to last, must prudently recognize and
silently acquiesce in this, the chief dogma of Man's
constitution."

Sah-luma laughed. "Excellently argued, most politic Zel!" he
exclaimed.. "Yet methinks it is easy to worship Self without
either consecrated altars or priestly assistance!"

"Thou shouldst know better than any one with what facility such
devotion can be practiced!" returned Zel ironically, rising as he
spoke, and beginning to wrap his mantle round him preparatory to
departure--"Thou hast a wider range of perpetual adoration than
most men, seeing thou dost so fully estimate the value of thine
own genius! Some heretics there are in the city, who say thy merit
is but a trick of song shared by thee in common with the birds, . .
who truly seem to take no pride in the particular sweetness of
their unsyllabled language, . . but thou thyself art better
instructed, and who shall blame thee for the veneration with which
thou dost daily contemplate thine own intellectual powers? Not I,
believe me!".. and his crafty eyes glittered mockingly, as he
arranged his silver gauze muffler so that it entirely veiled the
lower part of his features, . . "And though I do somewhat regret to
learn that thou, among other noblemen of fashion, hast of late
taken part in the atheistic discussions encouraged by the
Positivist School of Thought, still, as a priest, my duty is not
so much to reproach as to call thee to repentance. Therefore I
inwardly rejoice to know thou wilt present thyself before the
Shrine to-night, if only for the sake of custom ..."

"'Only' for the sake of custom!" repeated Sah-luma amusedly--"Nay,
good Zel, custom should be surely classified as an exceeding
powerful god, inasmuch as it rules all things, from the cut of our
clothes to the form of our creeds!"

"True!" replied Zel imperturbably. "And he who despises custom
becomes an alien from his kind,--a moral leper among the pure and
clean."

"Oh, say rather a lion among sheep, a giant among pigmies!"
laughed the Laureate,--"For by my soul, a man who had the courage
to scorn custom, and set the small hypocrisies of society at
defiance, would be a glorious hero! a warrior of strange integrity
whom it would be well worth travelling miles to see!"

"Khosrul was such an one!" interposed Theos suddenly.

"Tush, man! Khosrul was mad!" retorted Sah-luma.

"Are not all men thought mad who speak the truth?" queried Theos
gently.

The priest Zel looked at him with proud and supercilious eyes.

"Thou hast strange notions for one still young," he said ... "What
art thou? ... a new disciple of the Mystics? ... or a student of
the Positive Doctrines?"

Theos met his gaze unflinchingly. "What am I?" he murmured sadly,
and his voice trembled, ... "Reverend Priest, I am nothing! ...
Great are the sufferings of men who have lost their wealth, their
home, their friends, ... but I ... I have lost Myself! Were I
anything ... could I ever hope to be anything, I would pray to be
accepted a servant of the Cross, ... that far-off unknown Faith to
which my tired spirit clings!"

As he uttered these words, he raised his eyes, ... how dim and
misty at the moment seemed the tall white figure of the majestic
Zel! and in contrast to it, how brilliantly distinct Sah-luma's
radiant face appeared, turned toward him in inquiring wonderment!
... He felt a swooning dizziness upon him, but the sensation
swiftly passed, and he saw the haughty Priest's dark brows bent
upon him in a frown of ominous disapproval.

"'Tis well thou art not a citizen of Al-Kyris"--he said
scornfully--"To strangers we accord a certain license of opinion,
--but if thou wert a native of these realms, thy speech would cost
thee dear! As it is, I warn thee! ... dare not to make public
mention of the Cross, the accursed Emblem of the dead Khosrul's
idolatry, ... guard thy tongue heedfully!--and thou, Sah-luma if
thou dost bring this rashling with thee to the Temple, thou must
take upon thyself all measures for his safety. For in these days,
some words are like firebrands, and he who casts them forth
incautiously may kindle flames that only the forfeit of his life
can quench."

There was a quiver of suppressed fury in his tone, and Sah-luma
lifted his lazy lids, and looked at him with an air of tranquil
indifference.

"Prithee, trouble not thyself, most eminent Zel!" he answered
nonchalantly ... "I will answer for my friend's discretion! Thou
dost mistake his temperament,--he is a budding poet, and utters
many a disconnected thought which hath no meaning save to his own
fancy-swarming brain,--he saw the frantic Khosrul die, and the
picture hath impressed him for the moment--nothing more! I pledge
my word for his demurest prudence at the Service to-night--I would
not have him absent for the world, ... 'twere pity he should miss
the splendor of a scene which doubtless hath been admirably
contrived, by priestly art and skill, to play upon the passions of
the multitude. Tell me, good Zel, what is the name of the self-
offered Victim?"

The Priest flashed a strangely malevolent glance at him.

"'Tis not to be divulged," he replied curtly--"The virgin is no
longer counted among the living ... she is as one already
departed--the name she bore hath been erased from the city
registers, and she wears instead the prouder title of 'Bride of
the Sun and Nagaya.' Restrain thy curiosity until night hath
fallen,--it may be that thou, who hast a wide acquaintance among
fair maidens, wilt recognize her countenance."

"Nay, I trust I know her not"--said Sah-luma carelessly--"For,
though all women die for me when once their beauty fades, still am
I loth to see them perish ere their prime.

"Yet many are doomed to perish so"--rejoined the Priest
impassively--"Men as well as women,--and methinks those who are
best beloved of the gods are chosen first to die. Death is not
difficult, ... but to live long enough for life to lose all savor,
and love all charm, ... this is a bitterness that comes with years
and cannot be consoled."

And retreating slowly toward the door, he paused as he had
previously done on the threshold.