Books: Ardath

M >> Marie Corelli >> Ardath

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40 | 41 | 42 | 43 | 44 | 45 | 46 | 47 | 48 | 49

"Nagaya the Divine doth hear the prayers of his people!
"Nagaya the Supreme doth accept the offered Sacrifice!
"BRING FORTH THE VICTIM!"

The last words were spoken with stern authoritativeness, and
scarcely had they been uttered when the great entrance doors of
the Temple flew open, and a procession of children appeared,
strewing flowers and singing:

"O happy Bride, we bring thee unto joy and peace!
"To thee are opened the Palaces of the Air,
"The beautiful silent Palaces where the bright stars dwell
"O happy Bride of Nagaya! how fair a fate is thine!"

Pausing, they flung wreaths and garlands among the people, and
continued:

"O happy Bride! for thee are past all Sorrows and Sin,
"Thou shalt never know shame, or pain or grief or the
weariness of tears;
"For thee no husband shall prove false, no children prove
ungrateful;
"O happy Bride of Nagaya! how glad a fate is thine.
"O happy Bride! when thou art wedded to the beautiful god, the
god of Rest,--
"Thou shalt forget all trouble and dwell among sweet dreams for
ever!
"Thou art the blessed one, chosen for the love-embraces of
Nagaya!
"O happy Bride! ... how glorious a fate is thine!"

Thus they sang in the soft, strange vowel-language of Al-Kyris,
and tripped along with that innocent, unthinking gayety usual to
such young creatures, up to the centre aisle toward the Sanctuary.
They were followed by four priests in scarlet robes and closely
masked, . . and walking steadfastly between these, came a slim girl
clad in white, veiled from head to foot and crowned with a wreath
of lotus lilies. All the congregation, as though moved by an
impulse, turned to look at her as she passed,--but her features
were not as yet discernible through the mist-like draperies that
enfolded her.

The singing children, always preceding her and scattering flowers,
having arrived at the steps of the Shrine, grouped themselves on
either side,--and the red garmented Priests, after having made
several genuflections to the glittering Python that now, with
reared neck and quivering fangs, seemed to watch everything that
was going on with absorbed and crafty vigilance, proceeded to
unveil the maiden martyr, and also to tie her slight hands behind
her back by means of a knotted silver cord. Then in a firm voice
the Priest Zel proclaimed:

"Behold the elected Bride of the Sun and the Divine Nagaya!

"She bears away from the city the burden of your sins, O ye
people, and by her death the gods are satisfied!

"Rejoice greatly, for ye are absolved,--and by the Silver Veil and
the Eye of Raphon we pronounce upon all here present the blessing
of pardon and peace!"

As he spoke the girl turned round as though in obedience to some
mechanical impulse, and fully confronted the multitude, . . her
pale, pure face, framed in a shining aureole of rippling fair
hair, floated before Theos's bewildered eyes like a vision seen
indistinctly in a magic crystal, and he was for a moment uncertain
of her identity; but quick as a flash Sah-luma's glance lighted
upon her, and, with a cry of horror that sent desolate echoes
through and through the arches of the Temple, he started from his
seat, his arms outstretched, his whole frame convulsed and
quivering.

"Niphrata! ... Niphrata! ..." and his rich voice shook with a
passion of appeal, "O ye gods! ... what mad, blind, murderous
cruelty! Zephoranim!" ... and he turned impetuously on the
astonished monarch: "As thou livest crowned King I say this maid
is MINE! ... and in the very presence of Nagaya, I swear she shall
NOT die!"

CHAPTER XXVIII.

THE SACRIFICE.

A solemn silence ensued. Consternation and wrath were depicted on
every countenance. The Sacred Service was interrupted! ... a
defiance had been hurled as it were in the very teeth of the god
Nagaya! ... and this horrible outrage to Religion and Law had been
actually committed by the Laureate of the realm! It was
preposterous, ... incredible! ... and the gaping crowds reached
over each other's shoulders to stare at the offender, pressing
forward eager, wondering, startled faces, which to Theos looked
far more spectral than real, seen in the shimmering green radiance
that was thrown flickering upon them from the luminous Arch above
the Altar. The priests stood still in speechless indignation, . .
Lysia moved not at all, nor raised her eyes; only her lips parted
in a very slight cold smile.

Seized with mortal dread, Theos gazed helplessly at his reckless,
beautiful poet friend, who with head erect and visage white as a
waning moon, haughtily confronted his Sovereign and audaciously
asserted his right to be heard, even in the Holy place of worship!
The King was the first to break the breathless stillness: his
words came harshly from his throat, . . and the great muscles in his
neck seemed to swell visibly with his hardly controlled anger.

"Peace! ... Thou art suddenly distraught, Sah-luma! ..." he said,
in half-smothered, fierce accents--"How darest thou uplift thy
clamorous tongue thus wantonly before Nagaya, and interrupt the
progress of his Sacred Ritual? ... check thy mad speech! ... if
ever yonder maid were thine, 'tis certain she is thine no longer;
... she hath offered herself, a voluntary sacrifice, and the gods
are pleased to claim what thou perchance hast failed to value!"

For all answer, Sah-luma flung himself desperately at the
monarch's feet. "Zephoranim!" he cried again ... "I tell thee she
is mine! ... mine, as truly mine as Love can make her! Oh, she is
chaster than lily-buds in her sweet body! ... but in her spirit
she is wedded--wedded to me, Sah-luma, whom thou, O King, hast
ever delighted to honor! And now must I kneel to thee in vain?--
thou whose victories I have sung, whose praises I have chanted in
burning words that shall carry thy name forever with triumph, down
to unborn generations? ... Wilt thou become inglorious? ... a
warrior stricken strengthless by the mummeries of priestcraft,--
the juggleries of a perishing creed? Thou art the ruler of Al-
Kyris,--thou and thou only! Restore to me this innocent virgin-
life that has scarcely yet begun to bloom! ... speak but the word
and she is saved! ... and her timely rescue shall add lustre to
the record of thy noblest deeds!"

His matchless voice, full of passionate pulsations, exercised for
a moment a resistless influence and magnetic charm. The King's
lowering brows relaxed,--and a gleam of pity passed like light
across his countenance. Instinctively he extended his hand to
raise Sah-luma from his humble attitude, as though, even in his
wrath, he were conscious of the immense intellectual superiority
of a great Poet to ever so great a King; and a thrill of
involuntary compassion seemed at the same time to run
sympathetically through the vast congregation. Theos drew a quick
breath of relief, and glanced at Niphrata, ... how cold and
unconcerned was her demeanor! ... Did she not hear Sah-luma's
pleading in her behalf? ... No matter!--she would be saved, he
thought, and all would yet be well!

And truly it now appeared as if mercy, and not cruelty, were to be
the order of the hour, . . for just then the Priest Zel, after
having exchanged a few inaudible words with Lysia, advanced again
to the front of the Shrine and spoke in distinct tones of forced
gentleness and bland forbearance:

"Hear me, O King, Princes and People! ... Whereas it has unhappily
occurred, to the wonder and sorrow of many, that the holy Spouse
of the divine Nagaya is delayed in her desired departure, by the
unforeseen opposition and unedifying contumacy of Sah-luma, Poet
Laureate of this realm; and lest it may be perchance imagined by
the uninitiated, that the maiden is in any way unwilling to fulfil
her glorious destiny, the High and Immaculate Priestess of the
Shrine doth bid me here pronounce a respite; a brief interval
wherein, if the King and the People be willing, he who is named
Sah-luma shall, by virtue of his high renown, be permitted to
address the Virgin-victim and ascertain her own wishes from her
own lips. Injustice cannot dwell within this Sacred Temple,--and
if, on trial, the maiden chooses the transitory joys of Earth in
preference to the everlasting joys of the Palaces of the Sun, then
in Nagaya's name shall she go free!--inasmuch as the god loves not
a reluctant bride, and better no Sacrifice at all, than one that
is grudgingly consummated!"

He ceased,--and Sah-luma sprang erect, his eyes sparkling, his
whole demeanor that of a man unexpectedly disburdened from some
crushing grief.

"Thanks be unto the benevolent destinies!" he exclaimed, flashing
a quick glance of gratitude toward Lysia, . . the statuesque Lysia,
on whose delicately curved lips the faintly derisive smile still
lingered ... "And in return for the life of my Niphrata I will
give a thousand jewels rare beyond all price to deck Nagaya's
tabernacle!--and I will pour libations to the Sun for twenty days
and nights, in token of my heart's requital for mercy well
bestowed!"

Stooping he kissed the King's hand,--whereupon at a sign from Zel,
one of the priests attired in scarlet unfastened Niphrata's bound
hands, and led her, as one leads a blind child, straight up to
where Sah-luma and Theos stood, close beside the King, who,
together with many others, stared curiously upon her. How fixed
and feverishly brilliant were her large dark-blue eyes! ... how
set were the sensitive lines of her mouth!--how indifferent she
seemed, how totally unaware of the Laureate's presence! The priest
who brought her retired into the background, and she remained
where he left her, quite mute and motionless. Oh, how every nerve
in Theos's body throbbed with inexpressible agony as he beheld her
thus! The wildest remorse possessed him, . . it was as though he
looked on the dim picture of a ruin which he himself had
recklessly wrought, . . and he could have groaned aloud in the
horrible vagueness of his incomprehensible despair! Sah-luma
caught the girl's hand, and peered into her white, still face.

"Niphrata! .. .Niphrata!" he said in a tremulous half-whisper, "I
am here,--Sah-luma! ... Dost thou not know me!"

She sighed, . . a long, shivering sigh,--and smiled, . . what a
strange, wistful, dying smile it was! ... but she made no answer.

"Niphrata!"--continued the Laureate, passionately pressing the
little, cold fingers that lay so passively in his grasp.. "Look at
me! ... I have come to save thee! ... to take thee home again, . .
home to thy flowers, thy birds, thy harp, . . thy pretty chamber
with its curtained nook, where thy friend Zoralin waits and weeps
all day for thee! ... O ye gods!--how weak am I!".. and he
fiercely dashed away the drops that glistened on his black silky
lashes, . . "Come with me, sweet one! ..." he resumed tenderly--
"Come!--Why art thou thus silent? ... thou whose voice hath many a
time outrivalled the music of the nightingales! Hast thou no word
for me, thy lord?--Come!".. and Theos, struggling to repress his
own rising tears, heard his friend's accents sink into a still
lower, more caressing cadence ... "Thou shalt never again have cause
for grief, my Niphrata, never! ... We will never part! ... Listen!
... am I not he whom thou lovest?"

The poor child's set mouth trembled,--her beautiful sad eyes gazed
at him uncomprehendingly.

"He whom I love is not here!".. she said in tired, soft tones; "I
left him, but he followed me; and now, he waits for
me...yonder!".. And she turned resolutely toward the Sanctuary, as
though compelled to do so by some powerful mesmeric attraction, . .
"See you not how fair he is!"...and she pointed with her
disengaged hand to the formidable python, through whose huge coils
ran the tremors of impatient and eager breathing, . . "How tenderly
his eyes behold me! ... those eyes that I have worshipped so
patiently, so faithfully, and yet that never lightened into love
for me till now! O thou more than beloved!--How beautiful thou
art, my adored one, my heart's idol!" and a look of pale
exaltation lightened her features, as she fixed her wistful gaze,
like a fascinated bird, on the shadowy recess whence the Serpent
had emerged--"There,--there thou dost rest on a couch of fadeless
roses!--how softly the moonlight enfolds thee with a radiance as
of outspread wings!--I hear thy voice charming the silence! ...
thou dost call me by my name, . . O once poor name made rich by thy
sweet utterance! Yes, my beloved, I am ready! ... I come! I shall
die in thy embraces, . . nay, I shall not die but sleep! ... and
dream a dream of love that shall last forever and ever! No more
sorrow ... no more tears, . . no more heartsick longings ..."

Here she stopped in her incoherent speech, and strove to release
her hand from Sah-luma's, her blue eyes filling with infinite
anxiety and distress.

"I pray thee, good stranger," she entreated with touching
mildness,--"whosoever thou art, delay me not, but let me go! ... I
am but a poor love-sorrowful maid on whom Love hath at last taken
pity!--be gentle therefore, and hinder me not on my way to Sah-
luma. I have waited for happiness so long! ... so long!"

Her young, plaintive voice quavered into a half sob,--and again
she endeavored to break away from the Laureate's hold. But he,
overcome by the excess of his own grief and agitation, seized her
other hand, and drew her close up to him.

"Niphrata, Niphrata!" he cried despairingly. "What evil hath
befallen thee? Where is thy sight.. thy memory? ... LOOK! ...
Look straight in these eyes of mine, and read there my truth and
tenderness! ... _I_ am Sah-luma, thine own Sah-luma! ... thy poet,
thy lover, thy master, thy slave, . . all that thou wouldst have me
be, I am! Whither wouldst thou wander in search of me? Thou hast
no further to go, dear heart, than these arms, . . thou art safe
with me, my singing bird, . . come! ..Let me lead thee hence, and
home!"

She watched him while he spoke, with a strange expression of
distrust and uneasiness. Then, by a violent effort, she wrenched
her hands from his clasp, and stood aloof, waving him back with an
eloquent gesture of amazed reproach.

"Away!" she said, in firm accents of sweet severity,--"Thou art a
demon that dost seek to tempt my soul to ruin! THOU Sah-luma!"..
and she lifted her lily-crowned head with a movement of proud
rejection.. "Nay! ... thou mayst wear his look, his smile, . . thou
mayst even borrow the clear heaven-lustre of his eyes,--but I tell
thee thou art fiend, not angel, and I will not follow thee into
the tangled ways of sin! Oh, thou knowest not the meaning of true
love, thou! ... There is treachery on thy lips, and thy tongue is
trained to utter honeyed falsehood! Methinks thou hast wantonly
broken many a faithful heart!--and made light jest of many a
betrayed virgin's sorrow! And thou darest to call thyself MY
Poet, . . MY Sah-luma, in whom there is no guile, and who would die
a thousand deaths rather than wound the frailest soul that trusted
him! ... Depart from me, thou hypocrite in Poet's guise! ... thou
cruel phantom of my love! ... Back to that darkness where thou
dost belong, and trouble not my peace!"

Sah-luma recoiled from her, amazed and stupefied. Theos clenched
his hands together in a sort of physical effort to keep down the
storm of emotions working within him,--for Niphrata's words burnt
into his brain like fire, ..too well, too well he understood their
full intensity of meaning! She loved the IDEAL Sah-luma, . . the
Sah-luma of her own pure fancies and desires, . . NOT the REAL man
as he was, with all his haughty egotism, vainglory, and vice,--
vice in which he took more pride than shame. Perhaps she had never
known him in his actual character,--she, like other women of her
lofty and ardent type, had no doubt set up the hero of her life as
a god in the shrine of her own holy and enthusiastic imagination,
and had there endowed him with resplendent virtues, which he had
never once deemed it worth his while to practise. Oh the loving
hearts of women!--How much men have to answer for, when they
voluntarily break these clear mirrors of affection, wherein they,
all unworthy, have been for a time reflected angel-wise, with all
the warmth and color of an innocently adoring passion shining
about them like the prismatic rays in a vase of polished crystal!
To Niphrata, Sah-luma remained as a sort of splendid divinity, for
whom no devotion was too vast, too high, or too complete, . .
better, oh surely far better that she should die in her beautiful
self-deception, than live to see her elected idol descend to his
true level, and openly display all the weaknesses of his volatile,
flippant, godless, sensual, yet, alas! most fascinating and
genius-gifted nature, . . a nature, which, overflowing as it was
with potentialities of noble deeds, yet lacked sufficient
intrinsic faith and force to accomplish them! This thought stung
Theos like a sharp arrow-prick, and filled him with a strange,
indescribable penitence; and he stood in dumb misery, remorsefully
eyeing his friend's consternation, disappointment, and pained
bewilderment, without being able to offer him the slightest
consolation.

Sah-luma was indeed the very picture of dismay, . . if he had never
suffered in his life before, surely he suffered now! Niphrata, the
tender, the humbly adoring Niphrata, positively rejected him!--
refused to recognize his actual presence, and turned insanely away
from him toward some dream-ideal Sah-luma whom she fancied could
only be found in that unexplored country bordered by the cold
river of Death! Meanwhile, the silence in the Temple was intense,
--the Priests were like so many wax figures fastened in fixed
positions; the King, leaning slightly forward in his chair, had
the appearance of a massively moulded image of bronze,--and to
Theos's overwrought condition of mind, the only actually living
things present seemed to be the monster Serpent whose scaly folds
palpitated visibly in the strong light, . . and the hideous "Eye of
Raphon," that blazed on Lysia's breast with a menacing stare, as
of a wrathful ghoul. All at once a flash of comprehension
lightened the Laureate's sternly perplexed face,--a bitter laugh
broke from his lips.

"She has been drugged!" he cried fiercely, pointing to Niphrata's
white and rigid form, . . "Poisoned by some deadly potion devised of
devils, to twist and torture the quivering centres of the brain!
Accursed work!--Will none undo it?" and springing forward nearer
the Shrine, he raised his angry, impassioned eyes to the dark,
inscrutable ones of the High Priestess, who met his troubled look
with serene and irresponsive gravity ... "Is there no touch of
human pity in things divine? ... no mercy in the icy fate that
rules our destinies? ... This child knows naught of what she does;
she hath been led astray in a moment of excitement and religious
exaltation, . . her mind hath lost its balance,--her thoughts float
disconnectedly on a sea of vague illusions, ... Ah! ... by the
gods! ... I understand it all now!" and he suddenly threw himself
on his knees, his appealing gaze resting, not on the Snake-Deity,
but on the lovely countenance of Lysia, fair and brilliant as a
summer morn, with a certain waving light of triumph about it, like
the reflected radiance of sunbeams, ... "She is under the
influence of Raphon! ... O withering madness! ... O cureless
misery.. She is ruled by that most horrible secret force, unknown
as yet to the outer world of men! ... and she hears things that
are not, and sees what has no existence! O Lysia, Daughter of the
Sun! ... I do beseech thee, by all the inborn gentleness of
womanhood, unwind the Mystic Spell!"

A serious smile of feigned, sorrowful compassion parted the
beautiful lips of the Priestess; but she gave no word or sign in
answer,--and the weird Jewel on her breast at that moment shot
forth a myriad scintillations as of pointed sharp steel. Some
extraordinary power in it, or in Lysia herself, was manifestly at
work,--for with a violent start Sah-luma rose from his knees, and
staggered helplessly backward, . . one hand pressed to his eyes as
though to shut out some blinding blaze of lightning! He seemed to
be vaguely groping his way to his former place beside the King,
and Theos, seeing this, quickly caught him by the arm and drew him
thither, whispering anxiously the while:

"Sah-luma!-Sah-luma! ... What ails thee?"

The Laureate turned upon him a bewildered, piteous face, white
with an intensity of speechless anguish.

"Nothing!"...he faltered,--"Nothing! ... 'tis over, . . the child
must die!"...Then all suddenly the hard, drawn lines of his
countenance relaxed,--great tears gathered in his eyes, and fell
slowly one by one, . . and moving aside, he shrank away as far as
possible into the shadow cast by a huge column close by.. "O
Niphrata! ... Niphrata!".. Theos heard him say in a voice broken
by despair.. "Why do I love thee only now, . . NOW, when thou art
lost to me forever!"

The King looked after him half-compassionately, half-sullenly; but
presently paid no further heed to his distress. Theos, however,
kept near him, whispering whatever poor suggestions of comfort he
could, in the extremity of his own grief, devise, . . a hopeless
task,--for to all his offered solace Sah-luma made but the one
reply:

"Oh let me weep! ... Let me weep for the untimely death of
Innocence!"

And now the cithern-playing, which had ceased, commenced again,
accompanied by the mysterious thrilling bass notes of the
invisible organ-like instrument, whose sound resembled the roll
and rush of huge billows breaking into foam. As the rich and
solemn strains swept grandly through the spacious Temple, Niphrata
stretched out her hands toward the High Priestess, a smile of
wonderful beauty lighting up her fair child-face.

"Take me, O ye immortal gods!" she cried, her voice ringing in
clear tune above all the other music.. "Take me and bear me away
on your strong, swift wings to the Everlasting Palaces of Air,
wherein all sorrows have end, and patient love meets at last its
long-delayed reward! Take me.. for lo! I am ready to depart! My
soul is wounded and weary of its prison,--it struggles to be free!
O Destiny, I thank thee for thy mercy! ... I praise thee for the
glory thou dost here unveil before mine eyes! Pardon my sins! ...
accept my life! ... sanctify my love!"

A murmur of relief and rejoicing ran rippling through the
listening crowds,--a weight seemed lifted from their minds, . . the
victim was willing to die after all! ... the Sacrifice would be
proceeded with. There was a slight pause,--during which the
priests crossed and re-crossed the Sanctuary many times, one of
them descending the steps to tie Niphrata's hands behind her back
as before. In the immediate interest of the moment, Sah-luma and
his hot interference seemed to be almost forgotten, . . a few
people, indeed, cast injured and indignant looks toward the corner
where he dejectedly leaned, and once the wrinkled, malicious head
of old Zabastes peered at him, with an expression of incredulous
amazement,--but otherwise no sympathy was manifested by any one
for the popular Laureate's suffering and discomfiture. He was the
nation's puppet, . . its tame bird, whose business was to sing when
bidden, . . but he was not expected to have any voice in matters of
religion or policy,--and still less was he supposed to intrude any
of his own personal griefs on the public notice. Let him sing!--
and sing well,--that was enough; but let him dare to be afflicted,
and annoy others with his wants and troubles, why then he at once
became uninteresting! ... he might even die for all anybody cared!
This was the unspoken sullen thought that Theos, sensitive to the
core on his friend's behalf, instinctively felt to be smouldering
in the heart of the mighty multitude,--and he resented the half-
implied, latent ungratefulness of the people with all his soul.

"Fools!".. he muttered under his breath,--"For you, and such as
you, the wisest sages toil in vain! ... on you Art wastes her
treasures of suggestive loveliness! ... low grovellers in earth,
ye have no eyes for heaven! O ignorant, ungenerous, fickle
hypocrites, whose ruling passion is the greed of gold!--Why should
great men perish, that YE may live! ... And yet.. your
acclamations make up the thing called Fame! Fame? ... Good God!--
'tis a brief shout in the universal clamor, scarce heard and soon
forgotten!"

And filled with strange bitterness, he gazed disconsolately at
Niphrata, who stood like one in a trance of ecstasy, patiently
awaiting her doom, her lovely, innocent blue eyes gladly upturned
to the long, jewel-like head of Nagaya, which twined round the
summit of the ebony staff, seemed to peer down at her in a sort of
drowsy reflectiveness. Then, all suddenly, Lysia spoke, . . how
enchanting was the exquisite modulation of that slow, languid,
silvery voice!

"Come hither, O Maiden fair, pure, and faithful!
The desire of thy soul is granted!
Before thee are the Gates of the Unknown World!
Already they open to admit thee;
Through their golden bars gleams the glory of thy future!
Speak! ... What seest thou?"