THE GROVE OF BAALTIS
At length, as the two men sat thus silently, for the place and its
gloom oppressed them, a sound broke upon the quiet of the night, that
beginning with a low wail such as might come from the lips of a
mourner, ended in a chant or song. The voice, which seemed close at
hand, was low, rich and passionate. At times it sank almost to a sob,
and at times, taking a higher note, it thrilled upon the air in tones
that would have been shrill were they not so sweet.
“Who is it that sings?” said Aziel to Metem.
“Be silent, I pray you,” whispered the other in his ear; “we have
wandered into one of the sacred groves of Baaltis, which it is death
for men to enter save at the appointed festivals, and a priestess of
the grove chants her prayer to the goddess.”
“We did not come of our own will, so doubtless we shall be forgiven,”
answered Aziel indifferently; “but that song moves me. Tell me the
words of it, which I can scarcely follow, for her accent is strange to
me.”
“Prince, they seem to be holy words to which I have little right to
hearken. The priestess sings an ancient hallowed chant of life and
death, and she prays that the goddess may touch her soul with the wing
of fire and make her great and give her vision of things that have been
and that shall be. More I dare not tell you now; indeed I can barely
hear, and the song is hard to understand. Crouch down, for the moon
rises, and pray that the mules may not stir. Presently she will go, and
we can fly the holy place.”
The Israelite obeyed and waited, searching the darkness with eager
eyes.
Now the edge of the great moon appeared upon the horizon, and by
degrees her white rays of light revealed a strange scene to the
watchers. About an open space of ground, some eighty paces in diameter,
grew seven huge and ancient baobab trees, so ancient indeed that they
must have been planted by the primæval hand of nature rather than by
that of man. Aziel and his companion were hidden with their mules
behind the trunk of one of these trees, and looking round it they
perceived that the open space beyond the shadow of the branches was not
empty. In the centre of this space stood an altar, and by it was placed
the rude figure of a divinity carved in wood and painted. On the head
of this figure rose a crescent symbolical of the moon, and round its
neck hung a chain of wooden stars. It had four wings but no hands, and
of these wings two were out-spread and two clasped a shapeless object
to its breast, intended, apparently, to represent a child. By these
symbols Aziel knew that before him was an effigy sacred to the goddess
of the Phœnicians, who in different countries passed by the various
names of Astarte, or Ashtoreth, or Baaltis, and who in their coarse
worship was at once the personification of the moon and the emblem of
fertility.
Standing before this rude fetish, between it and the altar, whereon lay
some flowers, and in such fashion that the moonlight struck full upon
her, was a white-robed woman. She was young and very beautiful both in
shape and feature, and though her black hair streaming almost to the
knees took from her height, she still seemed tall. Her rounded arms
were outstretched; her sweet and passionate face was upturned towards
the sky, and even at that distance the watchers could see her deep eyes
shining in the moonlight. The sacred song of the priestess was
finished. Now she was praying aloud, slowly, and in a clear voice, so
that Aziel could hear and understand her; praying from her very heart,
not to the idol before her, however, but to the moon above.
“O Queen of Heaven,” she said, “thou whose throne I see but whose face
I cannot see, hear the prayer of thy priestess, and protect me from the
fate I fear, and rid me of him I hate. Safe let me dwell and pure, and
as thou fillest the night with light, so fill the darkness of my soul
with the wisdom that I crave. O whisper into my ears and let me hear
the voice of heaven, teaching me that which I would know. Read me the
riddle of my life, and let me learn wherefore I am not as my sisters
are; why feasts and offerings delight me not; why I thirst for
knowledge and not for wealth, and why I crave such love as here I
cannot win. Satisfy my being with thy immortal lore and a love that
does not fail or die, and if thou wilt, then take my life in payment.
Speak to me from the heaven above, O Baaltis, or show me some sign upon
the earth beneath; fill up the vessel of my thirsty soul and satisfy
the hunger of my spirit. Oh! thou that art the goddess, thou that hast
the gift of power, give me, thy servant, of thy power, of thy godhead,
and of thy peace. Hear me, O Heaven-born, hear me, Elissa, the daughter
of Sakon, the dedicate of thee. Hear, hear, and answer now in the
secret holy hour, answer by voice, by wonder, or by symbol.”
The woman paused as though exhausted with the passion of her prayer,
hiding her face in her hands, and as she stood thus silent and
expectant, the sign came, or at least that chanced which for a while
she believed to have been an answer to her invocation. Her face was
hidden, so she could not see, and fascinated by her beauty as it
appeared to them in that unhallowed spot, and by the depth and dignity
of her wild prayer, the two watchers had eyes for her alone. Therefore
it happened that not until his arm was about to drag her away, did
either of them perceive a huge man, black as ebony in colour, clad in a
cloak of leopard skins and carrying in his right hand a broad-bladed
spear who, following the shadow of the trees, had crept upon the
priestess from the farther side of the glade.
With a guttural exclamation of triumph he gripped her in his left arm,
and, despite her struggles and her shrill cry for help, began half to
drag and half to carry her towards the deep shade of the baobab grove.
Instantly Aziel and Metem sprang up and rushed forward, drawing their
bronze swords as they ran. As it chanced, however, the Israelite caught
his foot in one of the numerous tree-roots, which stood above the
surface of the ground and fell heavily upon his face. In a few seconds,
twenty perhaps, he found his breath and feet again, to see that Metem
had come up with the black giant who, hearing his approach, suddenly
wheeled round to meet him, still holding the struggling priestess in
his grasp. Now the Phœnician was so close upon him that the savage
could find no time to shift the grip upon his spear, but drove at him
with the knobbed end of its handle, striking him full upon the forehead
and felling him as a butcher fells an ox. Then once more he turned to
fly with his captive, but before he had covered ten yards the sound of
Aziel’s approaching footsteps caused him to wheel round again.
At sight of the Israelite advancing upon him with drawn sword, the
great barbarian freed himself from the burden of the girl by throwing
her heavily to the ground, where she lay, for the breath was shaken out
of her. Then snatching the cloak from his throat he wound it over his
left arm to serve as a shield, and with a savage yell, rushed straight
at Aziel, purposing to transfix him with the broad-headed spear.
Well was it for the prince that he had been trained in sword-play from
his youth, also, notwithstanding his slight build, that he was strong
and active as a leopard. To await the onslaught would be to die, for
the spear must pierce him before ever he could reach the attacker’s
body with his short sword. Therefore, as the weapon flashed upward he
sprang aside, avoiding it, at the same time, with one swift sweep of
his sword, slashing its holder across the back as he passed him.
With a howl of pain and rage the savage sprang round and charged him a
second time. Again Aziel leapt to one side, but now he struck with all
his force at the spear shaft which his assailant lifted to guard his
head. So strong was the blow and so sharp the heavy sword, that it
shore through the wood, severing the handle from the spear, which fell
to the ground. Casting away the useless shaft, the warrior drew a long
knife from his girdle, and before Aziel could strike again faced him
for the third time. But he no longer rushed onward like a bull, for he
had learnt caution; he stood still, holding the skin cloak before him
shield fashion, and peering at his adversary from over its edge.
Now it was Aziel’s turn to take the offensive, and slowly he circled
round the huge barbarian, watching his opportunity. At length it came.
In answer to a feint of his the protecting cloak was dropped a little,
enabling him to prick its bearer in the neck, but only with the point
of his sword. The thrust delivered, he leapt back, and not too soon,
for forgetting his caution in his fury, the savage charged straight at
him with a roar like that of a lion. So swift and terrible was his
onset that Aziel, having no time to spring aside, did the only thing
possible. Gripping the ground with his feet, he bent his body forward,
and with outstretched arm and sword, braced up his muscles to receive
the charge. Another instant, and the leopard skin cloak fluttered
before him. With a quick movement of his left arm he swept it aside;
then there came a sudden pressure upon his sword ending in a jarring
shock, a flash of steel above his head, and down he went to the ground
beneath the weight of the black giant.
“Now there is an end,” he thought; “Heaven receive my spirit.” And his
senses left him.
When they returned again, Aziel perceived dimly that a white-draped
figure bent over him, dragging at something black which crushed his
breast, who, as she dragged, sobbed in her grief and fear. Then he
remembered, and with an effort sat up, rolling from him the corpse of
his foe, for his sword had pierced the barbarian through breast and
heart and back. At this sight the woman ceased her sobbing, and said in
the Phœnician tongue:—
“Sir, do you indeed live? Then the protecting gods be thanked, and to
Baaltis the Mother I vow a gift of this hair of mine in gratitude.”
“Nay, lady,” he answered faintly, for he was much shaken, “that would
be a pity; also, if any, it is my hair which should be vowed.”
“You bleed from the head,” she broke in; “say, stranger, are you deeply
wounded.”
“I will tell you nothing of my head,” he replied, with a smile, “unless
you promise that you will not offer up your hair.”
“So be it, stranger, since I must; I will give the goddess this gold
chain instead; it is of more worth.”
“You would do better, lady,” said the shrill voice of Metem, who by now
had found his wits again, “to give the gold chain to me whose scalp has
been broken in rescuing you from that black thief.”
“Sir,” she answered, “I am grateful to you from my heart, but it is
this young lord who killed the man and saved me from slavery worse than
death, and he shall be rewarded by my father.”
“Listen to her,” grumbled Metem. “Did I not rush in first in my folly
and receive what I deserved for my pains? But am I to have neither
thanks nor pay, who am but an old merchant; they are for the young
prince who came after. Well, so it ever was; the thanks I can spare,
and the reward I shall claim from the treasury of the goddess.
“Now, Prince, let me see your hurt. Ah! a cut on the ear, no more, and
thank your natal star that it is so, for another inch and the great
vein of the neck would have been severed. Prince, if you are able, draw
out your sword from the carcase of that brute, for I have tried and
cannot loosen the blade. Then perhaps this lady will guide us to the
city before his fellows come to seek him, seeing that for one night I
have had a stomach full of fighting.”
“Sirs, I will indeed. It is close at hand, and my father will thank you
there; but if it is your pleasure, tell me by what names I shall make
known to him you whose rank seems to be so high?”
“Lady, I am Metem the Phœnician, captain of the merchandise of the
caravan of Hiram, King of Tyre, and this lord who slew the thief is
none other than the prince Aziel, the twice royal, for he is grandson
to the glorious King of Israel, and through his mother of the blood of
the Pharaohs of Egypt.”
“And yet he risked his life to save me,” the girl murmured astonished;
then dropping to her knees before Aziel, she touched the ground with
her forehead in obeisance, giving him thanks, and praising him after
the fashion of the East.
“Rise, lady,” he broke in, “because I chance to be a prince I have not
ceased to be a man, and no man could have seen you in such a plight
without striking a blow on your behalf.”
“No,” added Metem, “none; that is, as you happen to be noble and young
and lovely. Had you been old and ugly and humble, then the black man
might have carried you from here to Tyre ere I risked my neck to stop
him, or for the matter of that, although he will deny it, the prince
either.”
“Men do not often show their hearts so clearly,” she answered with
sarcasm. “But now, lords, I will guide you to the city before more harm
befalls us, for this dead man may have companions.”
“Our mules are here, lady; will you not ride mine?” asked Aziel.
“I thank you, Prince, but my feet will carry me.”
“And so will mine,” said Aziel, ceasing from a prolonged and fruitless
effort to loosen his sword from the breast-bone of the savage, “on such
paths they are safer than any beasts. Friend, will you lead my mule
with yours?”
“Ay, Prince,” grumbled Metem, “for so the world goes with the old; you
take the fair lady for company and I a she-ass. Well, of the two give
me the ass which is more safe and does not chatter.”
Then they started, Aziel leaving his short sword in the keeping of the
dead man.
“How are you named, lady?” he said presently, adding “or rather I need
not ask; you are Elissa, the daughter of Sakon, Governor of Zimboe, are
you not?”
“I am so called, though how you know it I cannot guess.”
“I heard you name yourself, lady, in the prayer you made before the
altar.”
“You heard my prayer, Prince?” she said starting. “Do you not know that
it is death to that man who hearkens to the prayer of a priestess of
Baaltis, uttered in her holy grove? Still, none know it save the
goddess, who sees all, therefore I beseech you for your own sake and
the sake of your companion, say nothing of it in the city, lest it
should come to the ears of the priests of El.”
“Certainly it would have been death to you had I _not_ chanced to hear
it, having lost my way in the darkness,” answered the prince laughing.
“Well, since I did hear it I will add that it was a beautiful prayer,
revealing a heart high and pure, though I grieve that it should have
been offered to one whom I hold to be a demon.”
“I am honoured,” she answered coldly; “but, Prince, you forget that
though you, being a Hebrew, worship Him they call Jehovah, or so I have
been told, I, being of the blood of the Sidonians, worship the lady
Baaltis, the Queen of Heaven the holy one of whom I am a priestess.”
“So it is, alas!” he said, with a sigh, adding:—
“Well, let us not dispute of these matters, though, if you wish, the
prophet Issachar, the Levite who accompanies me, can explain the truth
of them to you.”
Elissa made no reply, and for a while they walked on in silence.
“Who was that black robber whom I slew?” Aziel asked presently.
“I am not sure, Prince,” she answered, hesitating, “but savages such as
he haunt the outskirts of the city seeking to steal white women to be
their wives. Doubtless he watched my steps, following me into the holy
place.”
“Why, then, did you venture there alone, lady?”
“Because, to be heard, such prayers as mine must be offered in solitude
in the consecrated grove, and at the hour of the rising of the moon.
Moreover, cannot Baaltis protect her priestess, Priest, and did she not
protect her?”
“I thought, lady, that I had something to do with the matter,” he
answered.
“Ay, Prince, it was your hand that struck the blow which killed the
thief, but Baaltis, and no other, led you to the place to rescue me.”
“I understand, lady. To save you, Baaltis, laying aside her own power,
led a mortal man to the grove, which it is death that mortal man should
violate.”
“Who can fathom the way of the gods?” she replied with passion, then
added, as though reasoning with a new-born doubt, “Did not the goddess
hear my prayer and answer it?”
“In truth, lady, I cannot say. Let me think. If I understood you
rightly, you prayed for heavenly wisdom, but whether or not you have
gained it within this last hour, I do not know. And then you prayed for
love, an immortal love. O, maiden, has it come to you since yonder moon
appeared upon the sky? And you prayed——”
“Peace!” she broke in, “peace and mock me not, or, prince that you are,
I will publish your crime of spying upon the prayer of a priestess of
Baaltis. I tell you that I prayed for a symbol and a sign, and the
prayer was answered.
“Did not the black giant spring upon me to bear me away to be his
slave—his, or another’s? And is he not a symbol of the evil and the
ignorance which are on the earth and that seek to drag down the beauty
and the wisdom of the earth to their own level? Then the Phœnician ran
to rescue me and was defeated, since the spirit of Mammon cannot
overcome the black powers of ill. Next you came and fought hard and
long, till in the end you slew the mighty foe, you a Prince born of the
royal blood of the world——” and she ceased.
“You have a pretty gift of parable, lady, as it should be with one who
interprets the oracles of a goddess. But you have not told me of what
I, your servant, am the symbol.”
She stopped in her walk and looked him full in the face.
“I never heard,” she said, “that either the Jews or the Egyptians,
being instructed, were blind to the reading of an allegory. But,
Prince, if you cannot read this one it is not for me, who am but a
woman, to set it out to you.”
Just then their glances met, and in the clear moonlight Aziel saw a
wave of doubt sweep over his companion’s dark and beautiful eyes, and a
faint flush appear upon her brow. He saw, and something stirred at his
heart that till this hour he had never felt, something which even now
he knew it would trouble him greatly to escape.
“Tell me, lady,” he asked, his voice sinking almost to a whisper, “in
this fable of yours am I even for an hour deemed worthy to play the
part of that immortal love embodied which you sought so earnestly a
while ago?”
“Immortal love, Prince,” she answered, in a new voice, a voice low and
deep, “is not for one hour, but for all hours that are and are to be.
You, and you alone, can know if you would dare to play such a part as
this—even in a fable.”
“Perchance, lady, there lives a woman for whom it might be dared.”
“Prince, no such woman lives, since immortal love must deal, not with
the flesh, but with the spirit. If a spirit worthy to be thus loved and
worshipped now wanders in earthly shape upon the world, seeking its
counterpart and its completion, I cannot tell. Yet were it so, and
should they chance to meet, it might be happy for such brave spirits,
for then the answer to the great riddle would be theirs.”
Wondering what this riddle might be, Aziel bent towards her to reply,
when suddenly round a bend in the path but a few paces from them came a
body of soldiers and attendants, headed by a man clad in a white robe
and walking with a staff. This man was grey-headed and keen-eyed, thin
in face and ascetic in appearance, with a brow of power and a bearing
of dignity. At the sight of the pair he halted, looking at them in
question, and with disapproval.
“Our search is ended,” he said in Hebrew, “for here is he whom we seek,
and alone with him a heathen woman, robed like a priestess of the
Groves.”
“Whom do you seek, Issachar?” asked Aziel hurriedly, for the sudden
appearance of the Levite disturbed him.
“Yourself, Prince. Surely you can guess that your absence has been
noted. We feared lest harm should have come to you, or that you had
lost your path, but it seems that you have found a guide,” and he
stared at his companion sternly.
“That guide, Issachar,” answered Aziel, “being none other than the lady
Elissa, daughter of Sakon, governor of this city, and our host, whom it
has been my good fortune to rescue from a woman-stealer yonder in the
grove of the goddess Baaltis.”
“And whom it was my bad fortune to try to rescue in the said grove, as
my broken head bears witness,” added Metem, who by now had come up,
dragging the two mules after him.
“In the grove of the goddess Baaltis!” broke in the Levite with a
kindling eye, and striking the ground with his staff to emphasise his
words. “You, a Prince of Israel, alone in the high place of abomination
with the priestess of a fiend? Fie upon you, fie upon you! Would you
also walk in the sin of your forefathers, Aziel, and so soon?”
“Peace!” said Aziel in a voice of command; “I was not in the grove
alone or by my own will, and this is no time or place for insults and
wrangling.”
“Between me and those who seek after false gods, or the women who
worship them, there is no peace,” replied the old priest fiercely.
Then, followed by all the company, he turned and strode towards the
gates of the city.