Ardath: The Story of a Dead Self Part 31

How ghostly and drear seemed that dense crowd in this new light of his delirious fancy! A clammy dew broke out on his forehead,--he saw the blue skies, the huge buildings in the Square, the Obelisk, the fountains, the trees, all whirling round him in a wild dance of the dizziest distraction, ... when Sah-luma's rich voice close to his ear recalled his wandering senses:

"Why, man, art thou drunk or mad?" and the Laureate's face expressed a kind of sarcastic astonishment,--"What a fool thou hast made of thyself, good comrade! ... By my soul, how shall thy condition be explained to these open-mouthed starers below! See how they gape upon thee! ... thou art most a.s.suredly a noticeable spectacle! ... and yon maniac Prophet doth evidently judge thee as one of his craft, a fellow professional howler of marvels, else he would scarcely deign to fix his eyes so obstinately on thy countenance! Nay, verily thou dost outrival him in the strangeness of thy language! ... What moved thee to such frenzied utterance? Surely thou hast a stroke of the sun!--thy words were most absolutely devoid of reason! ... as senseless as the jabber of an idiot to his own shadow on the wall!"

Theos was mute,--he had no defense to offer. The crowd still stared upon him,--and his heart beat fast with a mingled sense of fear and pride--fear of his present surroundings,--pride that he had spoken out his conviction boldly, reckless of all consequences. And this pride was a most curious thing to a.n.a.lyze, because it did not so much consist in the fact of his having openly confessed his inward thought, as that he felt he had gained some special victory in thus ACKNOWLEDGING HIS BELIEF IN THE POSITIVE EXISTENCE OF THE "Saviour" who formed the subject of Khosrul's prophecy. Full of a singular sort of self-congratulation which yet had nothing to do with selfishness, he became so absorbed in his own reflections that he started like a man brusquely aroused from sleep when the Prophet's strong grave voice apostrophized him personally over the heads of the throng:

"Who and what art thou, that dost speak of the FUTURE as though it were the PAST? Hast thou held converse with the Angels, and is Past and Future ONE with thee in the dream of the departing Present? Answer me, thou stranger to the city of Al-Kyris! ... Has G.o.d taught THEE the way to Everlasting Life?"

Again that awful silence made itself felt like a deadly chill on the sunlit air,--the quiet, patient crowds seemed waiting in hushed suspense for some reply which should be as a flash of spiritual enlightenment to leap from one to the other with kindling heat and radiance, and vivify them all into a new and happier existence. But now, when Theos most strongly desired to speak, he remained dumb as stone! ... vainly he struggled against and contended with the invisible, mysterious, and relentless despotism that smote him on the mouth as it were, and deprived him of all power of utterance, ... his tongue was stiff and frozen, ... his very lips were sealed! Trembling violently, he gazed beseechingly at Sah-luma, who held his arm in a firm and friendly grasp, and who, apparently quickly perceiving that he was distressed and embarra.s.sed, undertook himself to furnish forth what he evidently considered a fitting response to Khosrul's adjuration.

"Most venerable Seer!" he cried mockingly, his bright face radiant with mirth and his dark eyes flas.h.i.+ng a careless contempt as he spoke--"Thou art as short-sighted as thine own auguries if thou canst not at once comprehend the drift of my friend's humor! He hath caught the infection of thy fanatic eloquence, and, like thee, knows naught of what he says: moreover he hath good wine and sunlight mingled in his blood, whereby he hath been doubtless moved to play a jest upon thee. I pray thee heed him not! He is as free to declare thy Prophecy is of the PAST, as thou art to insist on its being of the FUTURE,--in both ways 'tis a most foolish fallacy! Nevertheless, continue thy entertaining discourse, Sir Graybeard! . . . and if thou must needs address thyself to any one soul in particular, why let it be me,--for though, thanks to mine own excellent good sense, I have no faith in angels nor crosses, nor everlasting life, nor any of the strange riddles wherewith thou seekest to perplex and bewilder the brains of the ignorant, still am I Laureate of the realm, and ready to hold argument with thee,--yea!--until such time as these dumfounded soldiers and citizens of Al-Kyris shall remember their duty sufficiently to seize and take thee captive in the King's great name!"

As he ceased a deep sigh ran, like the first sound of a rising wind among trees, through the heretofore motionless mult.i.tude,--a faint, dawning, yet doubtful smile reflected itself on their faces,--and the old familiar shout broke feebly from their lips:

"Hail, Sah-luma! Let us hear Sah-luma!"

Sah-luma looked down upon them all in airy derision.

"O fickle, terror-stricken fools!" he exclaimed--"O thankless and disloyal people! What!--ye WILL see me now? ... ye WILL hear me? ...

Aye! but who shall answer for your obedience to my words! Nay, is it possible that I, your country's chosen Chief Minstrel, should have stood so long among ye disregarded! How comes it your dull eyes and ears were fixed so fast upon yon dotard miscreant whose days are numbered? Methought t'was but Sah-luma's voice that could persuade ye to a.s.semble thus in such locust-like swarms.. since when have the Poet and the People of Al-Kyris ceased to be as one?"

A vague, muttering sound answered him, whether of shame or dissatisfaction it was difficult to tell. Khosrul's vibrating accent struck sharply across that m.u.f.fled murmur.

"The Poet and the People of Al-Kyris are further asunder than light and darkness!" he cried vehemently--"For the Poet has been false to his high vocation, and the People trust in him no more!"

There was an instant's hush, ... a hush as it seemed of grieved acquiescence on the part of the populace,--and during that brief pause Theos's heart gave a fierce bound against his ribs as though some one had suddenly shot at him with a poisoned arrow. He glanced quickly at Sah-luma,--but Sah-luma stood calmly unmoved, his handsome head thrown back, a cynical smile on his lips and his eyes darker than ever with an intensity of unutterable scorn.

"Sah-luma! ... Sah-luma!" and the piercing, reproachful voice of the Prophet penetrated every part of the s.p.a.cious square like a sonorous bell ringing over a still landscape: "O divine Spirit of Song pent up in gross clay, was ever mortal more gifted than thou! In thee was kindled the white fire of Heaven,--to thee were confided the memories of vanished worlds, . . for thee G.o.d bade His Nature wear a thousand shapes of varied meaning,--the sun, the moon, the stars were appointed as thy servants,--for thou wert born POET, the mystically chosen Teacher and Consoler of Mankind! What hast thou done, Sah-luma, . .

what hast thou done with the treasures bestowed upon thee by the all-endowing Angels? ... How hast thou used the talisman of thy genius?

To comfort the afflicted? ... to dethrone and destroy the oppressor?

... to uphold the cause of Justice? ... to rouse the n.o.blest instincts of thy race? ... to elevate and purify the world? ... Alas, alas!--thou hast made Thyself the idol of thy muse, and thou being but perishable, thy fame shall perish with thee! Thou hast drowsed away thy manhood in the lap of vice, . . thou hast slept and dreamed when thou should have been awake and vigilant! Not I, but THOU shouldst have warned the people of their coming doom! ... not I, but THOU shouldst have marked the threatening signs of the pregnant hour,--not I, but THOU shouldst have perceived the first faint glimmer of G.o.d's future scheme of glad salvation,--not I, but THOU shouldst have taught and pleaded, and swayed by thy matchless sceptre of sweet song, the pa.s.sions of thy countrymen! Hadst thou been true to that first flame of Thought within thee, O Sah-luma, how thy glory would have dwarfed the power of kings!

Empires might have fallen, cities decayed, and nations been absorbed in ruin,--and yet thy clear-convincing voice, rendered imperishable by its faithfulness should have sounded forth in triumph above the foundering wrecks of Time! O Poet unworthy of thy calling! ... How thou hast wantoned with the sacred Muse! ... how thou hast led her stainless feet into the mire of sensual hypocrisies, and decked her with the trumpery gew-gaws of a meaningless fair speech!--How thou hast caught her by the virginal hair and made her chast.i.ty the screen for all thine own licentiousness! ... Thou shouldst have humbly sought her benediction,--thou shouldst have handled her with gentle reverence and patient ardor,--from her wise lips thou shouldst have learned how best to PRACTICE those virtues whose praise thou didst evasively proclaim, ... thou shouldst have shrined her, throned her, wors.h.i.+ped her, and served her, . . yea! ... even as a sinful man may serve an Angel who loves him!"

Ah, what a strange, cold thrill ran through Theos as he heard these last words! 'As a sinful man may serve an Angel who loves him!' How happy the man thus loved! ... how fortunate the sinner thus permitted to serve! ... WHO WAS HE? ... Could there be any one so marvellously privileged? He wondered dimly,--and a dull, aching pain throbbed heavily in his brows. It was a very singular thing too, that he should find himself strongly and personally affected by Khosrul's address to Sah-luma, yet such was the case, ... so much so, indeed, that he accepted all the Prophet's reproaches as though they applied solely TO HIS OWN PAST LIFE! He could not understand his emotion, ...

nevertheless he kept on dreamily regretting that things WERE as Khosrul had said, ... that he had NOT fulfilled his vocation,--and that he had neither been humble enough nor devout enough nor unselfish enough to deserve the high and imperial name of POET.

Round and round like a flying mote this troublesome idea circled in his brain, ... he must do better in future, he resolved, supposing that any future remained to Him in which to work, . . HE MUST REDEEM THE PAST!

... Here he roused his mental faculties with a start and forced himself to realize that it was SAH-LUMA to whom the Prophet spoke, . .

Sah-luma, ONLY Sah-luma,--not himself!

Then straightway he became indignant on his friend's behalf,--why should Sah-luma be blamed? ... Sah-luma was a glorious poet!--a master-singer of singers! ... his fume must and should endure forever!

... Thus thinking, he regained his composure by degrees, and strove to a.s.sume the same air of easy indifference as that exhibited by his companion, when again Khosrul's declamatory tones thundered forth with an absoluteness of emphasis that was both startling and convincing:

"Hear me, Sah-luma, Chief Minstrel of Al-Kyris!--hear me, thou who hast willfully wasted the golden moments of never-returning time! THOU ART MARKED OUT FOR DEATH!--death sudden and fierce as the leap of the desert panther on its prey! ... death that shall come to thee through the traitorous speech of the evil woman whose beauty has sapped thy strength and rendered thy glory inglorious!... death that for thee, alas! shall be mournful and utter oblivion! Naught shall it avail to thee that thy musical weaving of words hath been graven seven times over, on tablets of stone and agate and ivory, of gold and white silex and porphyry, and the unbreakable rose-adamant,--none of these shall suffice to keep thy name in remembrance,--for what cannot be broken shall be melted with flame, and what cannot be erased shall be buried miles deep in the bosom of earth, whence it never again shall be lifted into the light of day! Aye! thou shalt be FORGOTTEN!--forgotten as though thou hadst never sung,--other poets shall chant in the world, yet maybe none so well as thou!--other laurel and myrtle wreaths shall be given by countries and kings to bards unworthy, of whom none perchance shall have thy sweetness! ... but thou,--thou the most grandly gifted, gift-squandering Poet the world has ever known, shalt be cast among the dust of unremembered nothings, and the name of Sah-luma shall carry no meaning to any man born in the coming here-after! For thou hast cherished within Thyself the poison that withers thee, ... the deadly poison of Doubt, the Denial of G.o.d's existence, ... the accursed blankness of Disbelief in the things of the Life Eternal! ... wherefore, thy spirit is that of one lost and rebellious,--whose best works are futile,--whose days are void of example,--and whose carelessly grasped torch of song shall be suddenly s.n.a.t.c.hed from thy hand and extinguished in darkness! G.o.d pardon thee, dying Poet! ... G.o.d give thy parting soul a chance of penance and of sweet redemption! ... G.o.d comfort thee in that drear Land of Shadow whither thou art bound! ... G.o.d bring thee forth again from Chaos to a n.o.bler Future! ... Sin-burdened as thou art, my blessing follows thee in thy last agony! Sah-luma! ... FALLEN ANGEL, SELF-EXILED FROM THY PEERS! ... FAREWELL!"

The effect of these strange words was so extraordinarily impressive, that for one instant the astonished and evidently affrighted crowds pressed round Sah-luma eagerly, staring at him in morbid fear and wonder, as though they expected him to drop dead before them in immediate fulfillment of the Prophet's solemn valediction. Theos, oppressed by an inward sickening sense of terror, also regarded him with close and anxious solicitude, but was almost rea.s.sured at the first glance.

Never was a greater opposition offered to Khosrul's gloomy prognostications, than that contained in the handsome Laureate's aspect at that moment,--his supple, graceful figure alert with life, . . his glowing face flushed by the sun, and touched with that faintly amused look of serene scorn, . . his glorious eyes, brilliant as jewels under their drooping amorous lids, and the regal poise of his splendid shoulders and throat, as he lifted his head a little more haughtily than usual, and glanced indifferently down from his foothold on the edge of the fountain at the upturned, questioning faces of the throng, ... all even to the careless balance and ease of his att.i.tude, betokened his perfect condition of health, and the entire satisfaction he had in the consciousness of his own strength and beauty.

He seemed about to speak, and raised his hand with the graceful yet commanding gesture of one accustomed to the art of elegant rhetoric, ... when suddenly his expression changed, . . shrugging his shoulders lightly as who should say.. "Here comes the conclusion of the matter,--no time for further argument"--he silently pointed across the Square, while a smile dazzling yet cruel played on his delicately parted lips, . . a smile, the covert meaning of which was soon explained. For all at once a brazen roar of trumpets split the silence into torn and discordant echoes,--the crowd turned swiftly, and seeing who it was that approached, rushed hither and thither in the wildest confusion, making as though they would have fled, . . and in less than a minute, a gleaming cohort of mounted and armed spearmen galloped furiously into the thick of the melee.

Following these came a superb car drawn by six jet-black horses that plunged and pranced through the mult.i.tude with no more heed than if these groups of living beings had been mere sheafs of corn, . . a car flas.h.i.+ng from end to end with gold and precious stones, in which towered the erect, ma.s.sive form of Zephoranim, the King. His dark face was ablaze with wrath, ... tightly grasping the reins of his reckless steeds, he drew himself haughtily upright and turned his rolling, fierce black eyes indignantly from side to side on the scared people, as he drove through their retreating ranks, smiting down and mangling with the sharp spikes of his tall chariot-wheels men, women, and children without care or remorse, till he forced his terrible pa.s.sage straight to the foot of the Obelisk. There he came to an abrupt standstill, and, lifting high his strong hand and brawny arm glittering with jewels, he cried:

"Soldiers! Seize yon traitorous rebel! Ten thousand pieces of gold for the capture of Khosrul!"

There was an instant of hesitation, ... not one of the populace stirred to obey the order. Then suddenly, as though released by their monarch's command from some mesmeric spell, the before inactive mounted guards started into action, cantered sharply forward and surrounded the Obelisk, while the armed spearsmen closed together and made a swift advance upon the venerable figure that stood alone and defenseless, tranquilly awaiting their approach. But there was evidently some unknown and mysterious force pent up within the Prophet's feeble frame, for when the soldiers were just about an arm's length from him, they seemed all at once troubled and irresolute, and turned their looks away, as though fearing to gaze too steadfastly upon that grand, thought-furrowed countenance in which the eyes, made young by inward fervor, blazed forth with unearthly l.u.s.tre beneath a silvery halo of tossed white hair. Zephoranim perceived this touch of indecision on the part of his men, and his black brows contracted in an ominous frown.

"Halt!" he shouted fiercely, apparently to make it seem to the mob that the pause in the action of the soldiery was in compliance with his own behest, . . "Halt! ... Bind him, and bring him hither, . . I myself will slay him!"

"Halt!" echoed a voice, discordantly sharp and wild.. "Halt thou also, great Zephoranim! for Death bars thy further progress!"

And Khosrul, manifestly possessed by some superhuman access of frenzy, leaped from his position on the back of the stone Lion, and slipping agilely through the ranks of the startled spearmen and guards, who were all unprepared for the suddenness and rapidity of his movements, he sprang boldly on the edge of the Royal chariot, and there clung to the jewelled wheel, looking like a gaunt aerial spectre, an amba.s.sador of coming ruin. The King, speechless with amazement and fury, dragged at his huge sword till he wrenched it out of its sheath, . . raising it, he whirled it round his head so that it gave a murderous hiss in the air, ... and yet.. was his strong arm paralyzed that he forbore to strike!

"Zephoranim!" Khosrul, in terms that were piercing and dolorous as the whistling of the wind among hollow reeds,--"Zephoranim, THOU SHALT DIE TO-NIGHT! ART THOU READY? Art thou ready, proud King? ... ready to be made less than the lowest of the low? Hus.h.!.+ ... Hus.h.!.+" and his aged face took upon itself a ghastly greenish pallor--"Hear you not the muttering of the thunder underground? There are strange powers at work!

... powers of the undug earth and unfathomed sea! ... hark how they tear at the stately foundations of Al-Kyris! ... Flame! flame! it is already kindled!--it shall enwrap thee with more closeness than thy coronation robe, O mighty Sovereign! ... with more gloating fondness than the serpent-twining arms of thy beloved! Listen, Zephoranim, listen!"

Here he stretched out his skinny hand and pointed upwards,--his eyes grew fixed and gla.s.sy,--his throat rattled convulsively. At that moment the monarch, recovering his self-possession, once more lifted his sword with direct and deadly aim, but the Prophet, uttering a wild shriek, caught at his descending wrist and gripped it fast.

"See.. See!" he exclaimed.. "Put up thy weapon! ... Thou shalt never need it where thou art summoned! ... Lo! how yon blood-red letters blaze against the blue of heaven! ... There! ... there it comes!--Read.. read! 'tis written plain.. 'AL-KYRIS SHALL FALL, AND THE KING SHALL DIE!'.. Hist ... hist! ... Dumb oracles speak and dead voices find tongue! ... hark how they chant together the old forgotten warning:

'When the High Priestess Is the King's mistress Then fall Al-Kyris!'

Fall Al-Kyris! ... Aye! ... the City of a thousand palaces shall fall to-night! ... TO-NIGHT! ... O night of desperate horror! ... and thou, O King, SHALT DIE!"

And as he shrilled the last word on the air with terrific emphasis, he threw up his arms like a man suddenly shot, and reeling backward fell heavily on the ground,--a corpse.

A great cry went up from the crowd, . . the King leaned eagerly out of his car.

"Is the fool dead, or feigning death?" he demanded, addressing one of a group of soldiers standing near.

The officer stooped and felt the motionless body.

"O great King, live forever! He is dead!"

Zephoranim hesitated. Cruelty and clemency struggled for the mastery in the varying expression of his frowning face, but cruelty conquered.

Grasping his sword firmly, he bent still further forward out of his chariot, and with one swift, keen stroke, severed the lifeless Prophet's head from its trunk, and taking it up on, the point of his weapon, showed it to the mult.i.tude. A smothered, shuddering sigh that was half a groan rippled through the dense throng--a sound that evidently added fresh irritation to the already heated temper of the haughty sovereign. With a savage laugh, he tossed his piteous trophy on the pavement, where it lay in a pool of its own blood, the white hair about it stained ruddily, and the still open eyes upturned as though in dumb appeal to heaven. Then, without deigning to utter another word, or to bestow another look upon the surrounding crowd of his disconcerted subjects, he gathered up his coursers' reins and prepared to depart.

Just then the sun went behind a cloud, and only a side-beam of radiance shot forth, pouring itself straight down on the royally attired figure of the monarch and the headless body of Khosrul, and at the same time bringing into sudden and prominent relief the silver Cross that glittered on the breast of the bleeding corpse, and that seemed to mysteriously offer itself as the Key to some unsolved Enigma. As if drawn by one strangely mutual attraction, all eyes, even those of Zephoranim himself, turned instinctively toward the flas.h.i.+ng Emblem, which appeared to burn like living fire on that perished ma.s.s of stiffening clay, . . and there was a brief silence,--a pause, during which Theos, who had watched everything with curiously calm interest, such as may be felt by a spectator watching the progress of a finely acted tragedy, became conscious of the same singular sensation he had already several times experienced,--namely, THAT HE HAD WITNESSED THE WHOLE OF THIS SCENE BEFORE!

he remembered it quite well,--particularly that apparently trifling incident of the sunlight happening to s.h.i.+ne so brilliantly on the dead man and his cross while the rest of the vast a.s.semblage were in comparative shadow. It was very odd! ... his memory was like a wonderful art-gallery in which some pictures were fresh of tint, while others were dim and faded, . . but this special "tableau" in the Square of Al-Kyris was very distinctly painted in brilliant and vivid colors on the sombre background of his past recollections, and he found the circ.u.mstance so remarkable that he was on the point of saying something to Sah-luma about it,--when the sun came out again in full splendor, and Zephoranim's spirited steeds started forward at a canter.

The King, controlling them easily with one hand, extended the other majestically by way of formal salutation to his people, . . his tall, muscular form was displayed to the best advantage,--the narrow jewelled fillet that bound his rough dark locks emitted a myriad scintillations of light, . . his close-fitting coat-of-mail, woven from thousands of small links of gold, set off his ma.s.sive chest and shoulders to perfection,--and as he moved along royally in his sumptuous car, the effect of his striking presence was such, that a complete change took place in the before sullen humor of the populace. For seeing him thus alive and well in direct opposition to Khosrul's ominous prediction,--even as Sah-luma also stood unharmed in spite of his having been apostrophized as a "dying" Poet,--the mob, always fickle and always dazzled by outward show, suddenly set up a deafening roar of cheering. The pallid hue of terror vanished from faces that had but lately looked spectrally thin with speechless dread, and crowds of servile pet.i.tioners and place-hunters began to press eagerly round their monarch's chariot, ... when all at once a woman in the throng gave a wild scream and rushed away shrieking "THE OBELISK! ... THE OBELISK!"

Every eye was instantly turned toward the stately pillar of white granite that sparkled in the sunlight like an immense carven jewel, ...

great Heaven! ... It was tottering to and fro like the unsteadied mast of a s.h.i.+p at sea! ... One look sufficed,--and a frightful panic ensued--a horrible, brutish stampede of creatures without faith in anything human or divine save their own wretched personalities,--the King, infected by the general scare, urged his horses into furious gallop, and dashed through the cursing, swearing, howling throng like an embodied whirlwind,--and for a few seconds nothing seemed distinctly visible But a surging ma.s.s of infuriated humanity, fighting with itself for life.

Theos alone remained singularly calm,--his sole consideration was for his friend Sah-luma, whom he entwined with one arm as he sprang down from the position they had hitherto occupied on the brink of the fountain, and made straight for the nearest of the six broad avenues that opened directly into the Square. Sah-luma looked pale, but was apparently unafraid,--he said nothing, and pa.s.sively allowed himself to be piloted by Theos through the madly raging mult.i.tude, which, oddly enough, parted before them like mist before the wind, so that in a magically short interval they successfully reached a place of safety.

And they reached it not a moment too soon. For the Obelisk was now plainly to be seen lurching forward at an angle of several degrees, . .