Books: Ardath

M >> Marie Corelli >> Ardath

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A low red sun was sinking slowly on the edge of the horizon, when,
pausing to look about him, he perceived in the near distance, the
dark outline of the great mound known as Birs-Nimroud, and
realized with a sort of shock that he was actually surrounded on
all sides by the crumbled and almost indistinguishable ruins of
the formerly superb all-dominant Assyrian city that had been "as a
golden cup in the Lord's hand," and was now no more in very truth
than a "broken and an empty vessel." For the words, "And Babylon
shall become heaps," have certainly been verified with startling
exactitude--"heaps" indeed it has become,--nothing BUT heaps,--
heaps of dull earth with here and there a few faded green tufts of
wild tamarisk, which while faintly relieveing the blankness of the
ground, at the same time intensify its monotonous dreaminess.
Alwyn, beholding the mournful desolation of the scene, felt a
strong sense of disappointment,--he had expected something
different,--his imagination had pictured these historical ruins as
being of larger extent and more imposing character. His eyes
rested rather wearily on the slow, dull gleam of the Euphrates, as
it wound past the deserted spaces where "the mighty city the
astonishment of nations" had once stood, ... and poet though he
was to the very core of his nature, he could see nothing poetical
in these spectral mounds and stone heaps, save in the significant
remembrance they offered of the old Scriptual prophecy--"Babylon
is fallen--is fallen! Her princes, her wise men, her captains, her
rulers, and her mighty men shall sleep a perpetual sleep and not
wake, saith the King who is the Lord of Hosts." And truly it
seemed as if the curse which had blighted the city's bygone
splendor had doomed even its ruins to appear contemptible.

Just then the glow of the disappearing sun touched the upper edge
of Birs-Nimroud, giving it for one instant a weird effect, as
though the ghost of some Babylonian watchman were waving a lit
torch from its summit,--but the lurid glare soon faded and a dead
gray twilight settled solemnly down over the melancholy landscape.
With a sudden feeling of dejection and lassitude upon him, Alwyn,
heaving a deep sigh, went onward, and soon perceived, lying a
little to the north of the river, a small, roughly erected
tenement with a wooden cross on its roof. Rightly concluding that
this must be Elzear of Melyana's hermitage, he quickly made his
way thither and knocked at the door.

It was opened to him at once by a white-haired, picturesque old
man, who received him with a mute sign of welcome, and who at the
same time laid one hand lightly but expressively on his own lips
to signify that he was dumb. This was Elzear himself. He was
attired in the same sort of flowing garb as that worn by the monks
of Dariel, and with his tall, spare figure, long, silvery beard
and deep-sunken yet still brilliant dark eyes, he might have
served as a perfect model for one of the inspired prophets of
bygone ancient days. Though Nature had deprived him of speech, his
serene countenance spoke eloquently in his favor, its mild
benevolent expression betokening that inward peace of the heart
which so often renders old age more beautiful than youth. He
perused with careful slowness the letter Alwyn presented to him,--
and then, inclining his head gravely, he made a courteous and
comprehensive gesture, to intimate that himself and all that his
house contained were at the service of the newcomer. He proceeded
to testify the sincerity of this assurance at once by setting a
plentiful supply of food and wine before his guest, waiting upon
him, moreover, while he ate and drank, with a respectful humility
which somewhat embarrassed Alwyn, who wished to spare him the
trouble of such attendance and told him so many times with much
earnestness. But all to no purpose--Elzear only smiled gently and
continued to perform the duties of hospitality in his own way ...
it was evidently no use interfering with him. Later on he showed
his visitor a small cell-like apartment containing a neat bed,
together with a table, a chair, and a large Crucifix, which latter
object was suspended against the wall, . . and indicating by
eloquent signs that here the weariest traveller might find good
repose, he made a low salutation and departed altogether for the
night.

What a still place the "Hermitage" was, thought Alwyn, as soon as
Elzear's retreating steps had died away into silence. There was
not a sound to be heard anywhere, ... not even the faint rustle of
leaves stirred by the wind. And what a haunting, grave, wistfully
tender expression filled the face of that sculptured Image on the
Cross, which in intimate companionship with himself seemed to
possess the little room! He could not bear the down-drooping
appealing, penetrating look in those heavenly-kind yet piteous
Eyes, ... turning abruptly away he opened the narrow window, and
folding his arms on the sill surveyed the scene before him. The
full moon was rising slowly, ... round and large, she hung like a
yellow shield on the dark, dense wall of the sky. The Rums of
Babylon were plainly visible.. the river shone like a golden
ribbon,--the outline of Birs-Nimoud was faintly rimmed with
light, and had little streaks of amber radiance wandering softly
up and down its shadowy slopes.

"'AND I WENT INTO THE FIELD CALLED ARDATH AND THERE I SAT AMONG
THE FLOWERS!'" mused Alwyn half aloud, his dreamy gaze fixed on
the gradually brightening heavens ... "Why not go there at once
... NOW!"

CHAPTER IX.

THE FIELD OF FLOWERS.

This idea had no sooner entered his mind than he prepared to act
upon it,--though only a short while previously, feeling thoroughly
overcome by fatigue, he had resolved to wait till next day before
setting out for the chief goal of his long pilgrimage. But now,
strangely enough, all sense of weariness had suddenly left him,--a
keen impatience burned in his veins,--and a compelling influence
stronger than himself seemed to urge him on to the instant
fulfillment of his purpose. The more he thought about it the more
restless he became, and the more eagerly desirous to prove, with
the least possible delay, the truth or the falsity of his mystic
vision at Danel. By the light of the small lamp left on the table
he consulted his map,--the map Heliobas had traced,--and also the
written directions that accompanied it--though these he had read
so often over and over again that he knew them by heart. They were
simply and concisely worded thus: "On the east bank of the
Euphrates, nearly opposite the 'Hermitage,' there is the sunken
fragment of a bronze Gate, formerly belonging to the Palace of the
Babylonian Kings. Three miles and a half to the southwest of this
fragment and in a direct line with it, straight across country,
will be found a fallen pillar of red granite half buried in the
earth. The square tract of land extending beyond this broken
column is the field known to the Prophet Esdras as the 'FIELD OF
ARDATH'"

He was on the east bank of the Euphrates already,--and a walk of
three miles and a half could surely be accomplished in an hour or
very little over that time. Hesitating no longer he made his way
out of the house, deciding that if he met Elzear he would say he
was going for a moonlight stroll before retiring to rest. That
venerable recluse, however, was nowhere to be seen,--and as the
door of the "Hermitage" was only fastened with a light latch he
had no difficulty in effecting a noiseless exit. Once in the open
air he stopped, . . startled by the sound of full, fresh, youthful
voices singing in clear and harmonious unison ... "KYRIE ELEISON!
CHRISTE ELEISON! KYRIE ELEISON!" He listened, . . looking everywhere
about him in utter amazement. There was no habitation in sight
save Elzear's,--and the chorus certainly did not proceed from
thence, but rather seemed to rise upward through the earth,
floating in released sweet echoes to and fro upon the hushed air.
"KYRIE ELEISON! ... CHRISTE ELEISON!" How it swayed about him like
a close chime of bells!

He stood motionless, perplexed and. wondering, ... was there a
subterranean grotto near at hand where devotional chants were
sung?--or, . . and a slight tremor ran through him at the thought, . .
was there something supernatural in the music, notwithstanding its
human-seeming speech and sound? Just then it ceased, ... all was
again silent as before, . . and angry with himself for his own
foolish fancies, he set about the task of discovering the "sunken
fragment" Heliobas had mentioned. Very soon he found it, driven
deep into the soil and so blackened and defaced by time that it
was impossible to trace any of the elaborate carvings that must
have once adorned it. In fact it would not have been recognizable
as a portion of a gate at all, had it not still possessed an
enormous hinge which partly clung to it by means of one huge
thickly rusted nail, dose beside it, grew a tree of weird and
melancholy appearance--its trunk was split asunder and one half of
it was withered. The other half leaning mournfully on one side
bent down its branches to the ground, trailing a wealth of long,
glossy green leaves in the dust of the ruined city. This was the
famous tree called by the natives Athel, of which old legends say
that it used to be a favorite evergreen much cultivated and prized
by the Babylonian nobility, who loving its pleasant shade, spared
no pains to make it grow in their hanging gardens and spacious
courts, though its nature was altogether foreign to the soil. And
now, with none to tend it or care whether it flourishes or decays,
it faithfully clings to the deserted spot where it was once so
tenderly fostered, showing its sympathy with the surrounding
desolation, by growing always in split halves, one withered and
one green--a broken-hearted creature, yet loyal to the memory of
past love and joy. Alwyn stood under its dark boughs, knowing
nothing of its name or history,--every now and then a wailing
whisper seemed to shudder through it, though there was no wind,--
and he heard the eerie lamenting sigh with an involuntary sense of
awe. The whole scene was far more impressive by night than by
day,--the great earth mounds of Babylon looked like giant graves
inclosing a glittering ring of winding waters. Again he examined
the imbedded fragment of the ancient gate,--and then feeling quite
certain of his starting-point he set his face steadily toward the
southwest,--there the landscape before him lay flat and bare in
the beamy lustre of the moon. The soil was sandy and heavy to the
tread,--moreover it was an excessively hot night,--too hot to walk
fast. He glanced at his watch,--it was a few minutes past ten
o'clock. Keeping up the moderate pace the heat enforced, it was
possible he might reach the mysterious field about half-past
eleven, . . perhaps earlier. And now his nerves began to quiver with
strong excitement, . . had he yielded to the promptings of his own
feverish impatience, he would most probably have run all the way
in spite of the sultriness of the air,--but he restrained this
impulse, and walked leisurely on purpose, reproaching himself as
he went along for the utter absurdity of his expectations.

"Was ever madman more mad than I!" he murmured with some self-
contempt--"What logical human being in his right mind would be
guilty of such egregious folly! But am I logical? Certainly not!
Am I in my right mind? I think I am,--yet I may be wrong. The
question remains, ... what IS logic? ... and what IS being in
one's right mind? No one can absolutely decide! Let me see if I
can review calmly my ridiculous position. It comes to this,--I
insist on being mesmerized ... I have a dream, ... and I see a
woman in the dream"--here he suddenly corrected himself ... "a
woman did I say? No! ... she was something far more than that! A
lovely phantom--a dazzling creature of my own imagination ... an
exquisite ideal whom I will one day immortalize ... yes!--
IMMORTALIZE in song!"

He raised his eyes as he spoke to the dusky firmament thickly
studded with stars, and just then caught sight of a fleecy silver-
rimmed cloud passing swiftly beneath the moon and floating
downwards toward the earth,--it was shaped like a white-winged
bird, and was here and there tenderly streaked with pink, as
though it had just travelled from some distant land where the sun
was rising. It was the only cloud in the sky,--and it had a
peculiar, almost phenomenal effect by reason of its rapid motion,
there being not the faintest breeze stirring. Alwyn watched it
gliding down the heavens till it had entirely disappeared, and
then began his meditations anew.

"Any one,--even without magnetic influence being brought to bear
upon him, might have visions such as mine! Take an opium-eater,
for instance, whose life is one long confused vista of visions,--
suppose he were to accept all the wild suggestions offered to his
drugged brain, and persist in following them out to some sort of
definite conclusion,--the only place for that man would be a
lunatic asylum. Even the most ordinary persons, whose minds are
never excited in any abnormal way, are subject to very curious and
inexplicable dreams,--but for all that, they are not such fools as
to believe in them. True, there is my poem,--I don't know how I
wrote it, yet written it is, and complete from beginning to end--
an actual tangible result of my vision, and strange enough in its
way, to say the least of it. But what is stranger still is that I
LOVE the radiant phantom that I saw ... yes, actually love her
with a love no mere woman, were she fair as Troy's Helen, could
ever arouse in me! Of course,--in spite of the contrary assertions
made by that remarkably interesting Chaldean monk Heliobas,--I
feel I am the victim of a brain-delusion,--therefore it is just as
well I should see this 'field of Ardath' and satisfy myself that
nothing comes of it--in which case I shall be cured of my craze."

He walked on for some time, and presently stopped a moment to
examine his map by the light of the moon. As he did so, he became
aware of the extraordinary, almost terrible, stillness surrounding
him. He had thought the "Hermitage" silent as a closed tomb--but
it was nothing to the silence here. He felt it inclosing him like
a thick wall on all sides,--he heard the regular pulsations of his
own heart--even the rushing of his own blood--but no other sound
was audible. Earth and the air seemed breathless, as though with
some pent-up mysterious excitement,--the stars were like so many
large living eyes eagerly gazing down on the solitary human being
who thus wandered at night in the land of the prophets of old--the
moon itself appeared to stare at him in open wonderment. He grew
uncomfortably conscious of this speechless watchfulness of
nature,--he strained his ears to listen, as it were to the
deepening dumbness of all existing things,--and to conquer the
strange sensations that were overcoming him, he proceeded at a
more rapid pace,--but in two or three minutes came again to an
abrupt halt. For there in front of him, right across his path, lay
the fallen pillar which, according to Heliobas, marked the
boundary to the field he sought! Another glance at his map decided
the position ... he had reached his journey's end at last! What
was the time? He looked--it was just twenty minutes past eleven.

A curious, unnatural calmness suddenly possessed him, ... he
surveyed with a quiet, almost cold, unconcern the prospect before
him,--a wide level square of land covered with tufts of coarse
grass and clumps of wild tamarisk, ... nothing more. This was the
Field of Ardath ... this bare, unlovely wilderness without so much
as a tree to grace its outline! From where he stood he could view
its whole extent,--and as he beheld its complete desolation he
smiled,--a faint, half-bitter smile. He thought of the words in
the ancient book of "Esdras:" "And the Angel bade me enter a waste
field, and the field was barren and dry save of herbs, and the
name of the field was Ardath. And I wandered therein through the
hours of the long night, and the silver eyes of the field did open
before me and therein I saw signs and wonders."

"Yes,--the field is 'barren and dry' enough in all conscience!" he
murmured listlessly--"But as for the 'silver eyes' and the 'signs
and wonders,' they must have existed only in the venerable
Prophet's imagination, just as my flower-crowned Angel-maiden
exists in mine. Well! ... now, Theos Alwyn" ... he continued,
apostrophizing himself aloud,--"Are you contented? Are you quite
convinced of your folly? ... and do you acknowledge that a fair
Dream is as much of a lie and a cheat as all the other fair-
seeming things that puzzle and torture poor human nature? Return
to your former condition of reasoning and reasonable skepticism,--
aye, even atheism if you will, for the materialists are right, ...
you cannot prove a God or the possibility of any purely spiritual
life. Why thus hanker after a phantom loveliness? Fame--fame! Win
fame! ... that is enough for you in this world, ... and as for a
next world, who believes in it?--and who, believing, cares?"

Soliloquizing in this fashion, he set his foot on Ardath itself,
determining to walk across and around it from end to end. The
grass was long and dry, yet it made no rustle beneath his tread
... he seemed to be shod with the magic shoes of silence. He
walked on till he reached about the middle of the field, where
perceiving a broad flat stone near him, he sat down to rest. There
was a light mist rising,--a thin moonlit-colored vapor that crept
slowly upward from the ground and remained hovering like a wide,
suddenly-spun gossamer web, some two or three inches above it,
thus giving a cool, luminous, watery effect to the hot and arid
soil.

"According to the Apocrypha, Esdras 'sat among the flowers,'" he
idly mused--"Well! ... perhaps there were flowers in those days,--
but it is very evident there are none now. A more dreary, utterly
desolate place than this famous 'Ardath' I have never seen!"

At that moment a subtle fragrance scented the still air, ... a
fragrance deliciously sweet, as of violets mingled with myrtle. He
inhaled the delicate odor, surprised and confounded.

"Flowers after all!" he exclaimed. ... "Or maybe some aromatic
herb..." and he bent down to examine the turf at his feet. To his
amazement he perceived a thick cluster of white blossoms, star-
shaped and glossy-leaved, with deep golden centres, wherein bright
drops of dew sparkled like brilliants, and from whence puffs of
perfume rose like incense swung at unseen altars! He looked at
them in doubt that was almost dread, ... were they real? ... were
these the "silver eyes" in which Esdras had seen "signs and
wonders"? ... or was he hopelessly brain-sick with delusions, and
dreaming again?

He touched them hesitatingly ... they were actual living things,
with creamy petals soft as velvet,--he was about to gather one of
them,--when all at once his attention was caught and riveted by
something like a faint shadow gliding across the plain. A
smothered cry escaped his lips, ... he sprang erect and gazed
eagerly forward, half in hope,--half in fear. What slight Figure
was that, pacing slowly, serenely, and all alone in the moonlight?
... Without another instant's pause he rushed impetuously toward
it,--heedless that as he went, he trod on thousands of those
strange starry blossoms, which now, with sudden growth, covered
and whitened every inch of the ground, thus marvellously
fulfilling the words spoken of old: . . "Behold the field thou
thoughest barren; how great a glory hath the moon unveiled!"

CHAPTER X.

GOD'S MAIDEN EDRIS.

He ran on swiftly for a few paces,--then coming more closely in
view of the misty Shape he pursued, he checked himself abruptly
and stood still, his heart sinking with a bitter and irrepressible
sense of disappointment. Here surely was no Angel wanderer from
unseen spheres! ... only a girl, clad in floating gray draperies
that clung softly to her slim figure, and trailed behind her as
she moved sedately along through the snow-white blossoms that bent
beneath her noiseless tread. He had no eyes for the strange
flower-transfiguration of the lately barren land,--all his
interest was centered on the slender, graceful form of the
mysterious Maiden. She, meanwhile, went on her way, till she
reached the western boundary of the field,--there she turned, ...
hesitated a moment, ... and then came back straight toward him. He
watched her approach as though she were some invisible fate,--and
a tremor shook his limbs as she drew nearer ... still nearer! He
could see her distinctly now, all but her face,--that was in
shadow, for her head was bent and her eyes were downcast. Her
long, fair hair flowed in a loose rippling mass over her shoulders
... she wore a wreath of the Ardath flowers, and carried a cluster
of them clasped between her small, daintily shaped hands. A few
steps more, and she was close beside him--she stopped as if in
expectation of some word or sign ... but he stood mute and
motionless, not daring to speak or stir. Then--without raising her
eyes--she passed, ... passed like a flitting vapor,--and he
remained as though rooted to the spot, in a sort of vague, dumb
bewilderment! His stupefaction was brief however--rousing himself
to swift resolution, he hastened, after her.

"Stay! stay!" he cried aloud.

Obedient to his call she paused, but did not turn. He came up with
her. ... he caught at her robe, soft to the touch as silken gauze,
and overwhelmed by a sudden emotion of awe and reverence, he sank
on his knees.

"Who, and what are you?" he murmured in trembling tones--"Tell me!
If you are mortal maid I will not harm you, I swear! ... See! ...
I am only a poor crazed fool that loves a Dream, ... that stakes
his life upon a chance of Heaven, ... pity me as you are gentle!
... but do not fear me ... only speak!"

No answer came. He looked up--and now in the rich radiance of the
moon beheld her face ... how like, and yet how altogether unlike
it was to the face of the Angel in his vision! For that ethereal
Being had seemed dazzlingly, supremely beautiful beyond all mortal
power of description,--whereas this girl was simply fair, small,
and delicate, with something wistful and pathetic in the lines of
her sweet mouth, and shadows as of remembered sorrows slumbering
in the depths of her serene, dove-like eyes. Her fragile figure
drooped wearily as though she were exhausted by some long fatigue,
... yet, ... gazing down upon him, she smiled, ... and in that
smile, the faint resemblance she bore to his Spirit-ideal flashed
out like a beam of sunlight, though it vanished again as quickly
as it had shone. He waited eagerly to hear her voice, ... waited
in a sort of breathless suspense,--but as she still kept silence,
he sprang up from his kneeling attitude and seized her hands ...
how soft they were and warm!--he folded them in his own and drew
her closer to himself ... the flowers she held fell from her
grasp, and lay in a tumbled fragrant heap between them. His brain
was in a whirl--the Past and the Future--the Real and the Unreal--
the Finite and the Infinite--seemed all merging into one another
without any shade of difference or division!

"We have met very strangely, you and I!"--he said, scarcely
conscious of the words he uttered--"Will you not tell me your
name?"

A faint sigh escaped her.

"My name is Edris," she answered, in low musical accents, that
carried to his sense of hearing a suggestion, of something sweet
and familiar.

"Edris!" he repeated--"Edris!" and gazing at her dreamily he
raised her hands to his lips and kissed them gently--"My fairest
Edris! From whence do you come?"

She met his eyes with a mild look of reproach and wonderment.

"From a far, far country, Theos!" and he started as she thus
addressed him--"A land where no love is wasted and no promise
forgotten!"

Again that mystic light passed over her pale face--the blossom-
coronal she wore seemed for a moment to glitter like a circlet of
stars. His heart beat quickly--could he believe her? ... was she
in very truth that shining Peri whose aerial loveliness had so
long haunted his imagination? Nay!--it was impossible! ... for if
she were, why should she veil her native glory in such simple
maiden guise?

Searchingly he studied every feature of her countenance, and as he
did so his doubts concerning her spirit-origin became more and
more confirmed. She was a living, breathing woman--an actual
creature of flesh and blood,--yet how account for her appearance
on the field of Ardath? This puzzled him ... till all at once a
logical explanation of the whole mystery dawned upon his mind.
Heliobas had sent her hither on purpose to meet him! Of course!
how dense he had been not to see through so transparent a scheme
before! The clever Chaldean had resolved that he, Theos Alwyn,
should somehow be brought to accept his trance as a real
experience, so that henceforth his faith in "things unseen and
eternal" might be assured. Many psychological theorists would
uphold such a deceit as not only permissible, but even praise-
worthy, if practiced for the furtherance of a good cause. Even the
venerable hermit Elzear might have shared in the conspiracy, and
this "Edris," as she called herself, was no doubt perfectly
trained in the part she had to play! A plot for his conversion!
... well! ... he would enter into it himself, he resolved! ... why
not? The girl was exquisitely fair,--a veritable Psyche of soft
charms!--and a little lovemaking by moonlight would do no harm, . .
... here he suddenly became aware that while these thoughts were
passing through his brain he had unconsciously allowed her hands
to slip from his hold, and she now stood apart at some little
distance, her eyes fixed full upon him with an expression of most
plaintive piteousness. He made a hasty step or two toward her,--
and as he did so, his pulses began to throb with an extraordinary
sensation of pleasure,--pleasure so keen as to be almost pain.