Books: A House of Pomegranates

O >> Oscar Wilde >> A House of Pomegranates

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

The novice looked out through the wicket, and when he saw who it
was, he drew back the latch and said to him, 'Enter.'

And the young Fisherman passed in, and knelt down on the sweet-
smelling rushes of the floor, and cried to the Priest who was
reading out of the Holy Book and said to him, 'Father, I am in love
with one of the Sea-folk, and my soul hindereth me from having my
desire. Tell me how I can send my soul away from me, for in truth
I have no need of it. Of what value is my soul to me? I cannot
see it. I may not touch it. I do not know it.'

And the Priest beat his breast, and answered, 'Alack, alack, thou
art mad, or hast eaten of some poisonous herb, for the soul is the
noblest part of man, and was given to us by God that we should
nobly use it. There is no thing more precious than a human soul,
nor any earthly thing that can be weighed with it. It is worth all
the gold that is in the world, and is more precious than the rubies
of the kings. Therefore, my son, think not any more of this
matter, for it is a sin that may not be forgiven. And as for the
Sea-folk, they are lost, and they who would traffic with them are
lost also. They are as the beasts of the field that know not good
from evil, and for them the Lord has not died.'

The young Fisherman's eyes filled with tears when he heard the
bitter words of the Priest, and he rose up from his knees and said
to him, 'Father, the Fauns live in the forest and are glad, and on
the rocks sit the Mermen with their harps of red gold. Let me be
as they are, I beseech thee, for their days are as the days of
flowers. And as for my soul, what doth my soul profit me, if it
stand between me and the thing that I love?'

'The love of the body is vile,' cried the Priest, knitting his
brows, 'and vile and evil are the pagan things God suffers to
wander through His world. Accursed be the Fauns of the woodland,
and accursed be the singers of the sea! I have heard them at
night-time, and they have sought to lure me from my beads. They
tap at the window, and laugh. They whisper into my ears the tale
of their perilous joys. They tempt me with temptations, and when I
would pray they make mouths at me. They are lost, I tell thee,
they are lost. For them there is no heaven nor hell, and in
neither shall they praise God's name.'

'Father,' cried the young Fisherman, 'thou knowest not what thou
sayest. Once in my net I snared the daughter of a King. She is
fairer than the morning star, and whiter than the moon. For her
body I would give my soul, and for her love I would surrender
heaven. Tell me what I ask of thee, and let me go in peace.'

'Away! Away!' cried the Priest: 'thy leman is lost, and thou
shalt be lost with her.'

And he gave him no blessing, but drove him from his door.

And the young Fisherman went down into the market-place, and he
walked slowly, and with bowed head, as one who is in sorrow.

And when the merchants saw him coming, they began to whisper to
each other, and one of them came forth to meet him, and called him
by name, and said to him, 'What hast thou to sell?'

'I will sell thee my soul,' he answered. 'I pray thee buy it of
me, for I am weary of it. Of what use is my soul to me? I cannot
see it. I may not touch it. I do not know it.'

But the merchants mocked at him, and said, 'Of what use is a man's
soul to us? It is not worth a clipped piece of silver. Sell us
thy body for a slave, and we will clothe thee in sea-purple, and
put a ring upon thy finger, and make thee the minion of the great
Queen. But talk not of the soul, for to us it is nought, nor has
it any value for our service.'

And the young Fisherman said to himself: 'How strange a thing this
is! The Priest telleth me that the soul is worth all the gold in
the world, and the merchants say that it is not worth a clipped
piece of silver.' And he passed out of the market-place, and went
down to the shore of the sea, and began to ponder on what he should
do.

And at noon he remembered how one of his companions, who was a
gatherer of samphire, had told him of a certain young Witch who
dwelt in a cave at the head of the bay and was very cunning in her
witcheries. And he set to and ran, so eager was he to get rid of
his soul, and a cloud of dust followed him as he sped round the
sand of the shore. By the itching of her palm the young Witch knew
his coming, and she laughed and let down her red hair. With her
red hair falling around her, she stood at the opening of the cave,
and in her hand she had a spray of wild hemlock that was
blossoming.

'What d'ye lack? What d'ye lack?' she cried, as he came panting up
the steep, and bent down before her. 'Fish for thy net, when the
wind is foul? I have a little reed-pipe, and when I blow on it the
mullet come sailing into the bay. But it has a price, pretty boy,
it has a price. What d'ye lack? What d'ye lack? A storm to wreck
the ships, and wash the chests of rich treasure ashore? I have
more storms than the wind has, for I serve one who is stronger than
the wind, and with a sieve and a pail of water I can send the great
galleys to the bottom of the sea. But I have a price, pretty boy,
I have a price. What d'ye lack? What d'ye lack? I know a flower
that grows in the valley, none knows it but I. It has purple
leaves, and a star in its heart, and its juice is as white as milk.
Shouldst thou touch with this flower the hard lips of the Queen,
she would follow thee all over the world. Out of the bed of the
King she would rise, and over the whole world she would follow
thee. And it has a price, pretty boy, it has a price. What d'ye
lack? What d'ye lack? I can pound a toad in a mortar, and make
broth of it, and stir the broth with a dead man's hand. Sprinkle
it on thine enemy while he sleeps, and he will turn into a black
viper, and his own mother will slay him. With a wheel I can draw
the Moon from heaven, and in a crystal I can show thee Death. What
d'ye lack? What d'ye lack? Tell me thy desire, and I will give it
thee, and thou shalt pay me a price, pretty boy, thou shalt pay me
a price.'

'My desire is but for a little thing,' said the young Fisherman,
'yet hath the Priest been wroth with me, and driven me forth. It
is but for a little thing, and the merchants have mocked at me, and
denied me. Therefore am I come to thee, though men call thee evil,
and whatever be thy price I shall pay it.'

'What wouldst thou?' asked the Witch, coming near to him.

'I would send my soul away from me,' answered the young Fisherman.

The Witch grew pale, and shuddered, and hid her face in her blue
mantle. 'Pretty boy, pretty boy,' she muttered, 'that is a
terrible thing to do.'

He tossed his brown curls and laughed. 'My soul is nought to me,'
he answered. 'I cannot see it. I may not touch it. I do not know
it.'

'What wilt thou give me if I tell thee?' asked the Witch, looking
down at him with her beautiful eyes.

'Five pieces of gold,' he said, 'and my nets, and the wattled house
where I live, and the painted boat in which I sail. Only tell me
how to get rid of my soul, and I will give thee all that I
possess.'

She laughed mockingly at him, and struck him with the spray of
hemlock. 'I can turn the autumn leaves into gold,' she answered,
'and I can weave the pale moonbeams into silver if I will it. He
whom I serve is richer than all the kings of this world, and has
their dominions.'

'What then shall I give thee,' he cried, 'if thy price be neither
gold nor silver?'

The Witch stroked his hair with her thin white hand. 'Thou must
dance with me, pretty boy,' she murmured, and she smiled at him as
she spoke.

'Nought but that?' cried the young Fisherman in wonder and he rose
to his feet.

'Nought but that,' she answered, and she smiled at him again.

'Then at sunset in some secret place we shall dance together,' he
said, 'and after that we have danced thou shalt tell me the thing
which I desire to know.'

She shook her head. 'When the moon is full, when the moon is
full,' she muttered. Then she peered all round, and listened. A
blue bird rose screaming from its nest and circled over the dunes,
and three spotted birds rustled through the coarse grey grass and
whistled to each other. There was no other sound save the sound of
a wave fretting the smooth pebbles below. So she reached out her
hand, and drew him near to her and put her dry lips close to his
ear.

'To-night thou must come to the top of the mountain,' she
whispered. 'It is a Sabbath, and He will be there.'

The young Fisherman started and looked at her, and she showed her
white teeth and laughed. 'Who is He of whom thou speakest?' he
asked.

'It matters not,' she answered. 'Go thou to-night, and stand under
the branches of the hornbeam, and wait for my coming. If a black
dog run towards thee, strike it with a rod of willow, and it will
go away. If an owl speak to thee, make it no answer. When the
moon is full I shall be with thee, and we will dance together on
the grass.'

'But wilt thou swear to me to tell me how I may send my soul from
me?' he made question.

She moved out into the sunlight, and through her red hair rippled
the wind. 'By the hoofs of the goat I swear it,' she made answer.

'Thou art the best of the witches,' cried the young Fisherman, 'and
I will surely dance with thee to-night on the top of the mountain.
I would indeed that thou hadst asked of me either gold or silver.
But such as thy price is thou shalt have it, for it is but a little
thing.' And he doffed his cap to her, and bent his head low, and
ran back to the town filled with a great joy.

And the Witch watched him as he went, and when he had passed from
her sight she entered her cave, and having taken a mirror from a
box of carved cedarwood, she set it up on a frame, and burned
vervain on lighted charcoal before it, and peered through the coils
of the smoke. And after a time she clenched her hands in anger.
'He should have been mine,' she muttered, 'I am as fair as she is.'

And that evening, when the moon had risen, the young Fisherman
climbed up to the top of the mountain, and stood under the branches
of the hornbeam. Like a targe of polished metal the round sea lay
at his feet, and the shadows of the fishing-boats moved in the
little bay. A great owl, with yellow sulphurous eyes, called to
him by his name, but he made it no answer. A black dog ran towards
him and snarled. He struck it with a rod of willow, and it went
away whining.

At midnight the witches came flying through the air like bats.
'Phew!' they cried, as they lit upon the ground, 'there is some one
here we know not!' and they sniffed about, and chattered to each
other, and made signs. Last of all came the young Witch, with her
red hair streaming in the wind. She wore a dress of gold tissue
embroidered with peacocks' eyes, and a little cap of green velvet
was on her head.

'Where is he, where is he?' shrieked the witches when they saw her,
but she only laughed, and ran to the hornbeam, and taking the
Fisherman by the hand she led him out into the moonlight and began
to dance.

Round and round they whirled, and the young Witch jumped so high
that he could see the scarlet heels of her shoes. Then right
across the dancers came the sound of the galloping of a horse, but
no horse was to be seen, and he felt afraid.

'Faster,' cried the Witch, and she threw her arms about his neck,
and her breath was hot upon his face. 'Faster, faster!' she cried,
and the earth seemed to spin beneath his feet, and his brain grew
troubled, and a great terror fell on him, as of some evil thing
that was watching him, and at last he became aware that under the
shadow of a rock there was a figure that had not been there before.

It was a man dressed in a suit of black velvet, cut in the Spanish
fashion. His face was strangely pale, but his lips were like a
proud red flower. He seemed weary, and was leaning back toying in
a listless manner with the pommel of his dagger. On the grass
beside him lay a plumed hat, and a pair of riding-gloves gauntleted
with gilt lace, and sewn with seed-pearls wrought into a curious
device. A short cloak lined with sables hang from his shoulder,
and his delicate white hands were gemmed with rings. Heavy eyelids
drooped over his eyes.

The young Fisherman watched him, as one snared in a spell. At last
their eyes met, and wherever he danced it seemed to him that the
eyes of the man were upon him. He heard the Witch laugh, and
caught her by the waist, and whirled her madly round and round.

Suddenly a dog bayed in the wood, and the dancers stopped, and
going up two by two, knelt down, and kissed the man's hands. As
they did so, a little smile touched his proud lips, as a bird's
wing touches the water and makes it laugh. But there was disdain
in it. He kept looking at the young Fisherman.

'Come! let us worship,' whispered the Witch, and she led him up,
and a great desire to do as she besought him seized on him, and he
followed her. But when he came close, and without knowing why he
did it, he made on his breast the sign of the Cross, and called
upon the holy name.

No sooner had he done so than the witches screamed like hawks and
flew away, and the pallid face that had been watching him twitched
with a spasm of pain. The man went over to a little wood, and
whistled. A jennet with silver trappings came running to meet him.
As he leapt upon the saddle he turned round, and looked at the
young Fisherman sadly.

And the Witch with the red hair tried to fly away also, but the
Fisherman caught her by her wrists, and held her fast.

'Loose me,' she cried, 'and let me go. For thou hast named what
should not be named, and shown the sign that may not be looked at.'

'Nay,' he answered, 'but I will not let thee go till thou hast told
me the secret.'

'What secret?' said the Witch, wrestling with him like a wild cat,
and biting her foam-flecked lips.

'Thou knowest,' he made answer.

Her grass-green eyes grew dim with tears, and she said to the
Fisherman, 'Ask me anything but that!'

He laughed, and held her all the more tightly.

And when she saw that she could not free herself, she whispered to
him, 'Surely I am as fair as the daughters of the sea, and as
comely as those that dwell in the blue waters,' and she fawned on
him and put her face close to his.

But he thrust her back frowning, and said to her, 'If thou keepest
not the promise that thou madest to me I will slay thee for a false
witch.'

She grew grey as a blossom of the Judas tree, and shuddered. 'Be
it so,' she muttered. 'It is thy soul and not mine. Do with it as
thou wilt.' And she took from her girdle a little knife that had a
handle of green viper's skin, and gave it to him.

'What shall this serve me?' he asked of her, wondering.

She was silent for a few moments, and a look of terror came over
her face. Then she brushed her hair back from her forehead, and
smiling strangely she said to him, 'What men call the shadow of the
body is not the shadow of the body, but is the body of the soul.
Stand on the sea-shore with thy back to the moon, and cut away from
around thy feet thy shadow, which is thy soul's body, and bid thy
soul leave thee, and it will do so.'

The young Fisherman trembled. 'Is this true?' he murmured.

'It is true, and I would that I had not told thee of it,' she
cried, and she clung to his knees weeping.

He put her from him and left her in the rank grass, and going to
the edge of the mountain he placed the knife in his belt and began
to climb down.

And his Soul that was within him called out to him and said, 'Lo!
I have dwelt with thee for all these years, and have been thy
servant. Send me not away from thee now, for what evil have I done
thee?'

And the young Fisherman laughed. 'Thou hast done me no evil, but I
have no need of thee,' he answered. 'The world is wide, and there
is Heaven also, and Hell, and that dim twilight house that lies
between. Go wherever thou wilt, but trouble me not, for my love is
calling to me.'

And his Soul besought him piteously, but he heeded it not, but
leapt from crag to crag, being sure-footed as a wild goat, and at
last he reached the level ground and the yellow shore of the sea.

Bronze-limbed and well-knit, like a statue wrought by a Grecian, he
stood on the sand with his back to the moon, and out of the foam
came white arms that beckoned to him, and out of the waves rose dim
forms that did him homage. Before him lay his shadow, which was
the body of his soul, and behind him hung the moon in the honey-
coloured air.

And his Soul said to him, 'If indeed thou must drive me from thee,
send me not forth without a heart. The world is cruel, give me thy
heart to take with me.'

He tossed his head and smiled. 'With what should I love my love if
I gave thee my heart?' he cried.

'Nay, but be merciful,' said his Soul: 'give me thy heart, for the
world is very cruel, and I am afraid.'

'My heart is my love's,' he answered, 'therefore tarry not, but get
thee gone.'

'Should I not love also?' asked his Soul.

'Get thee gone, for I have no need of thee,' cried the young
Fisherman, and he took the little knife with its handle of green
viper's skin, and cut away his shadow from around his feet, and it
rose up and stood before him, and looked at him, and it was even as
himself.

He crept back, and thrust the knife into his belt, and a feeling of
awe came over him. 'Get thee gone,' he murmured, 'and let me see
thy face no more.'

'Nay, but we must meet again,' said the Soul. Its voice was low
and flute-like, and its lips hardly moved while it spake.

'How shall we meet?' cried the young Fisherman. 'Thou wilt not
follow me into the depths of the sea?'

'Once every year I will come to this place, and call to thee,' said
the Soul. 'It may be that thou wilt have need of me.'

'What need should I have of thee?' cried the young Fisherman, 'but
be it as thou wilt,' and he plunged into the waters and the Tritons
blew their horns and the little Mermaid rose up to meet him, and
put her arms around his neck and kissed him on the mouth.

And the Soul stood on the lonely beach and watched them. And when
they had sunk down into the sea, it went weeping away over the
marshes.

And after a year was over the Soul came down to the shore of the
sea and called to the young Fisherman, and he rose out of the deep,
and said, 'Why dost thou call to me?'

And the Soul answered, 'Come nearer, that I may speak with thee,
for I have seen marvellous things.'

So he came nearer, and couched in the shallow water, and leaned his
head upon his hand and listened.

And the Soul said to him, 'When I left thee I turned my face to the
East and journeyed. From the East cometh everything that is wise.
Six days I journeyed, and on the morning of the seventh day I came
to a hill that is in the country of the Tartars. I sat down under
the shade of a tamarisk tree to shelter myself from the sun. The
land was dry and burnt up with the heat. The people went to and
fro over the plain like flies crawling upon a disk of polished
copper.

'When it was noon a cloud of red dust rose up from the flat rim of
the land. When the Tartars saw it, they strung their painted bows,
and having leapt upon their little horses they galloped to meet it.
The women fled screaming to the waggons, and hid themselves behind
the felt curtains.

'At twilight the Tartars returned, but five of them were missing,
and of those that came back not a few had been wounded. They
harnessed their horses to the waggons and drove hastily away.
Three jackals came out of a cave and peered after them. Then they
sniffed up the air with their nostrils, and trotted off in the
opposite direction.

'When the moon rose I saw a camp-fire burning on the plain, and
went towards it. A company of merchants were seated round it on
carpets. Their camels were picketed behind them, and the negroes
who were their servants were pitching tents of tanned skin upon the
sand, and making a high wall of the prickly pear.

'As I came near them, the chief of the merchants rose up and drew
his sword, and asked me my business.

'I answered that I was a Prince in my own land, and that I had
escaped from the Tartars, who had sought to make me their slave.
The chief smiled, and showed me five heads fixed upon long reeds of
bamboo.

'Then he asked me who was the prophet of God, and I answered him
Mohammed.

'When he heard the name of the false prophet, he bowed and took me
by the hand, and placed me by his side. A negro brought me some
mare's milk in a wooden dish, and a piece of lamb's flesh roasted.

'At daybreak we started on our journey. I rode on a red-haired
camel by the side of the chief, and a runner ran before us carrying
a spear. The men of war were on either hand, and the mules
followed with the merchandise. There were forty camels in the
caravan, and the mules were twice forty in number.

'We went from the country of the Tartars into the country of those
who curse the Moon. We saw the Gryphons guarding their gold on the
white rocks, and the scaled Dragons sleeping in their caves. As we
passed over the mountains we held our breath lest the snows might
fall on us, and each man tied a veil of gauze before his eyes. As
we passed through the valleys the Pygmies shot arrows at us from
the hollows of the trees, and at night-time we heard the wild men
beating on their drums. When we came to the Tower of Apes we set
fruits before them, and they did not harm us. When we came to the
Tower of Serpents we gave them warm milk in howls of brass, and
they let us go by. Three times in our journey we came to the banks
of the Oxus. We crossed it on rafts of wood with great bladders of
blown hide. The river-horses raged against us and sought to slay
us. When the camels saw them they trembled.

'The kings of each city levied tolls on us, but would not suffer us
to enter their gates. They threw us bread over the walls, little
maize-cakes baked in honey and cakes of fine flour filled with
dates. For every hundred baskets we gave them a bead of amber.

'When the dwellers in the villages saw us coming, they poisoned the
wells and fled to the hill-summits. We fought with the Magadae who
are born old, and grow younger and younger every year, and die when
they are little children; and with the Laktroi who say that they
are the sons of tigers, and paint themselves yellow and black; and
with the Aurantes who bury their dead on the tops of trees, and
themselves live in dark caverns lest the Sun, who is their god,
should slay them; and with the Krimnians who worship a crocodile,
and give it earrings of green glass, and feed it with butter and
fresh fowls; and with the Agazonbae, who are dog-faced; and with
the Sibans, who have horses' feet, and run more swiftly than
horses. A third of our company died in battle, and a third died of
want. The rest murmured against me, and said that I had brought
them an evil fortune. I took a horned adder from beneath a stone
and let it sting me. When they saw that I did not sicken they grew
afraid.

'In the fourth month we reached the city of Illel. It was night-
time when we came to the grove that is outside the walls, and the
air was sultry, for the Moon was travelling in Scorpion. We took
the ripe pomegranates from the trees, and brake them, and drank
their sweet juices. Then we lay down on our carpets, and waited
for the dawn.

'And at dawn we rose and knocked at the gate of the city. It was
wrought out of red bronze, and carved with sea-dragons and dragons
that have wings. The guards looked down from the battlements and
asked us our business. The interpreter of the caravan answered
that we had come from the island of Syria with much merchandise.
They took hostages, and told us that they would open the gate to us
at noon, and bade us tarry till then.

'When it was noon they opened the gate, and as we entered in the
people came crowding out of the houses to look at us, and a crier
went round the city crying through a shell. We stood in the
market-place, and the negroes uncorded the bales of figured cloths
and opened the carved chests of sycamore. And when they had ended
their task, the merchants set forth their strange wares, the waxed
linen from Egypt and the painted linen from the country of the
Ethiops, the purple sponges from Tyre and the blue hangings from
Sidon, the cups of cold amber and the fine vessels of glass and the
curious vessels of burnt clay. From the roof of a house a company
of women watched us. One of them wore a mask of gilded leather.

'And on the first day the priests came and bartered with us, and on
the second day came the nobles, and on the third day came the
craftsmen and the slaves. And this is their custom with all
merchants as long as they tarry in the city.

'And we tarried for a moon, and when the moon was waning, I wearied
and wandered away through the streets of the city and came to the
garden of its god. The priests in their yellow robes moved
silently through the green trees, and on a pavement of black marble
stood the rose-red house in which the god had his dwelling. Its
doors were of powdered lacquer, and bulls and peacocks were wrought
on them in raised and polished gold. The tilted roof was of sea-
green porcelain, and the jutting eaves were festooned with little
bells. When the white doves flew past, they struck the bells with
their wings and made them tinkle.

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7