THE DREAM OF ISSACHAR
For a moment there was silence, which Aziel broke, saying:—
“It seems to me, Issachar, that you are somewhat over zealous for my
welfare.”
“I think otherwise, Prince,” replied the Levite sternly. “Did not your
grandsire give you into my keeping, and shall I not be faithful to my
trust, and to a higher duty than any which he could lay upon me?”
“Your meaning, Issachar?”
“It is plain, Prince; but I will set it out. The great king said to me
yonder in the hall of his golden palace at Jerusalem, ‘To others, men
of war, I have given charge of the body of my grandson to keep him
safe. To you, Issachar the Levite, who have fostered him, I give charge
over his soul to keep it safe—a higher task, and more difficult. Guard
him, Issachar, from the temptation of strange doctrines and the
whisperings of strange gods, but guard him most of all from the wiles
of strange women who bow the knee to Baal, for such are the gate of
Gehenna upon earth, and those who enter by it shall find their place in
Tophet.’”
“Truly my grandsire speaks wisely on this matter as on all others,”
answered Aziel, “but still I do not understand.”
“Then I will be more clear, Prince. How comes it that I find you alone
with this beautiful sorceress, this worshipper of the she-devil,
Baaltis, with whom you should scorn even to speak, except such words as
courtesy demands?”
“Is it then forbidden to me,” asked Aziel angrily, “to talk with the
daughter of my host, a lady whom I chanced to save from death, of the
customs of her country and the mysteries of worship?”
“The mysteries of worship!” answered Issachar scornfully. “Ay! the
mysteries of the worship of that fair body of hers, that ivory chalice
filled with foulness—whereof, if a man drink, his faith shall be rotted
and his soul poisoned. The mysteries of that worship was it, Prince,
that caused you but now to lean towards this woman as though to embrace
her, with words of love burning in your heart if not between your lips?
Ah! these witches of Baaltis know their trade well; they are full of
evil gifts, and of the wisdom given to them by the fiend they serve.
With touch and sigh and look they can stir the blood of youth, having
much practice in the art, till it seethes within the veins and drowns
conscience in its flood.
“Nay, Prince, hear the truth,” continued Issachar. “Till moonrise you
had never seen this woman, and now your quick blood is aflame, and you
love her. Deny it if you can—deny it on your honour and I will believe
you, for you are no liar.”
Aziel thought for a moment and answered:—
“Issachar, you have no right to question me on this matter, yet since
you have adjured me by my honour, I will be open with you. I do not
know if I love this woman, who, as you say, is a stranger to me, but it
is true that my heart turns towards her like flowers to the sun. Till
to-day I had never seen her, yet when my eyes first fell upon her face
yonder in that accursed grove, it seemed to me that I had been born
only that I might find her. It seemed to me even that for ages I had
known her, that for ever she was mine and that I was hers. Read me the
riddle, Issachar? Is this but passion born of youth and the sudden
sight of a fair woman? That cannot be, for I have known others as fair,
and have passed through some such fires. Tell me, Issachar, you who are
old and wise and have seen much of the hearts of men, what is this wave
that overwhelms me?”
“What is it, Prince? It is witchery; it is the wile of Beelzebub
waiting to snatch your soul, and if you hearken to it you shall pass
through the fire—through the fire to Moloch, if not in the flesh, then
in the spirit, which is to all eternity. Oh! not in vain do I fear for
you, my son, and not without reason was I warned in a dream. Listen:
Last night, as I lay in my tent yonder upon the plain, I dreamed that
some danger overshadowed you, and in my sleep I prayed that your
destiny might be revealed to me. As I prayed thus, I heard a voice
saying, ‘Issachar, you seek to learn the future; know then that he who
is dear to you shall be tried in the furnace indeed. Yes, because of
his great love and pity, he shall forswear his faith, and with death
and sorrow he shall pay the price of his sin.’
“Then I was troubled and besought Heaven that you, my son, might be
saved from this unknown temptation, but the voice answered me:—
“‘Of their own will only can they who were one from the beginning be
held apart. Through good and ill let them work each other’s woe or
weal. The goal is sure, but they must choose the road.’
“Now as I wondered what these dark sayings might mean, the gloom opened
and I saw you, Aziel, standing in a grove of trees, while towards you
with outstretched hands drew a veiled woman who bore upon her brow the
golden bow of Baaltis. Then fire raged about you, and in the fire I
beheld many things which I have forgotten, and moving through it was
the Prince of Death, who slew and slew and spared not. So I awoke heavy
at heart, knowing that there had fallen on me who love you a shadow of
doom to come.”
In these latter days any educated man would set aside Issachar’s wild
vision as the vapourings of a mind distraught. But Aziel lived in the
time of Solomon, when men of his nation guided their steps by the light
of prophecy, and believed that it was the Divine pleasure, by means of
dreams and wonders and through the mouths of chosen seers, to declare
the will of Jehovah upon earth. To this faith, indeed, we still hold
fast, at least so far as that period and people are concerned, seeing
that we acknowledge Isaiah, David, and their company, to have been
inspired from above. Of that company Issachar the Levite was one, for
to him, from his youth up, voices had spoken in the watches of the
night, and often he had poured his warnings and denunciations into the
ears of kings and peoples, telling them with no uncertain voice of the
consequences of sin and idolatry, and of punishment to come. This
Aziel, who had been his ward and pupil, knew well, and therefore he did
not mock at the priest’s dream or set it aside as naught, but bowed his
head and listened.
“I am honoured indeed,” he said with humility, “that the destiny of my
poor soul and body should be a thing of weight to those on high.”
“Of your poor soul, Aziel?” broke in Issachar. “That soul of yours, of
which you speak so lightly, is of as great value in the eyes of Heaven
as that of any cherubim within its gates. The angels who fell were the
first and chiefest of the angels, and though now we are clad with
mortal shape in punishment of our sins, again redeemed and glorified we
can become among the mightiest of their hosts. Oh! my son, I beseech
you, turn from this woman while there yet is time, lest to you her lips
should be a cup of woe and your soul shall pay the price of them,
sharing the hell of the worshippers of Ashtoreth.”
“It may be so,” said Aziel; “but, Issachar, what said the voice? That
this, the woman of your dream and I were one from the beginning?
Issachar, you believe that the lady Elissa is she of whom the voice
spoke in your sleep and you bid me turn from her because she will bring
me sin and punishment. In truth, if I can, I will obey you, since
rather than forswear my faith, as your dream foretold, I would die a
hundred deaths. Nor do I believe that for any bribe of woman’s love I
shall forswear it in act or thought. Yet if such things come about it
is fate that drives me on, not my will—and what man can flee his fate?
But even though this lady be she whom I am doomed to love, you say that
because she is heathen I must reject her. Shame upon the thought, for
if she is heathen it is through ignorance, and it may be mine to change
her heart. Because I stand in danger shall I suffer her who, as you
tell me, was one with me from the beginning, to be lost in that hell of
Baal of which you speak? Nay, your dream is false. I will not renounce
my faith, but rather will win her to share it, and together we shall
triumph, and that I swear to you, Issachar.”
“Truly the evil one has many wiles,” answered the Levite, “and I did
ill to tell you of my dream, seeing that it can be twisted to serve the
purpose of your madness. Have your will, Aziel, and reap the fruit of
it, but of this I warn you—that while I can find a way to thwart it,
never, Prince, shall you take that witch to your bosom to be the ruin
of your life and soul.”
“Then, Issachar, on this matter there may be war between us!”
“Ay! there is war,” said the Levite, and left him.
The sun was already high in the heavens when Aziel awoke from the deep
and dreamless sleep which followed on the excitements and exhaustion of
the previous day. After his servants had waited upon him and robed him,
bringing him milk and fruit to eat, he dismissed them, and sat himself
down by the casement of his chamber to think a while.
Below him lay the city of flat-roofed houses enclosed with a double
wall, without the ring of which were thousands of straw huts, shaped
like bee-hives, wherein dwelt natives of the country, slaves or
servants of the occupying Phœnician race. To Aziel’s right, and not
more than a hundred paces from the governor’s house in which he was,
rose the round and mighty battlements of the temple, where the
followers of El and Baaltis worshipped, and the gold refiners carried
on their business. At intervals on its flat-topped walls stood towers
of observation, alternating with pointed monoliths of granite and
soapstone columns supporting vultures, rudely carved emblems of
Baaltis. Between these towers armed soldiers walked continually,
watching the city below and the plain beyond, for though the mission of
the Phœnicians here was one of peaceful gain it was evident that they
considered it necessary to be always prepared for war. On the hillside
above the great temple towered another fortress of stone—a citadel
deemed to be impregnable even should the temple fall into the hands of
an enemy—while on the crest of the precipitous slope, stretching as far
to right and left as the eye could reach, were many smaller detached
strongholds.
The scene that Aziel saw from his window was a busy one, for beneath
him a market was being held in an open square in the city. Here,
sheltered from the sun by grass-thatched booths, the Phœnician
merchants who had been his companions in their long and perilous
journey from the coast were already in treaty with numerous customers,
hoping, not in vain, to recoup themselves amply for the toils and
dangers which they had survived. Beneath these booths were spread their
goods; silks from Cos, bronze weapons and copper rods, or ingots from
the rich mines of Cyprus, linens and muslins from Egypt; beads, idols,
carven bowls, knives, glass ware, pottery in all shapes, and charms
made of glazed faience or Egyptian stone; bales of the famous purple
cloth of Tyre; surgical instruments, jewellery, and objects of toilet;
scents, pots of rouge, and other unguents for the use of ladies in
little alabaster and earthenware vases; bags of refined salt, and a
thousand other articles of commerce produced or stored in the workshops
of Phœnicia. These the chapmen bartered for raw gold by weight, tusks
of ivory, ostrich feathers, and girls of approved beauty, slaves taken
in war, or in some instances maidens whom their unnatural parents or
relatives did not scruple to sell into bondage.
In another portion of the square, provisions and stock, alive and dead,
were being offered for sale, for the most part by natives of the
country. Here were piles of vegetables and fruits grown in the gardens,
sacks of various sorts of grain, bundles of green forage from the
irrigated lands without the walls, calabashes full of curdled milk,
thick native beer and trusses of reed for thatching. Here again were
oxen, mules and asses, or great bucks such as we now know as eland or
kudoo, carried in on rough litters of boughs to be disposed of by
parties of savage huntsmen who had shot them with arrows or trapped
them in pitfalls. Every Eastern tribe and nation seemed to be
represented in the motley crowd. Yonder stalked savages, naked except
for their girdles, and armed with huge spears, who gazed with
bewilderment on the wonders of this mart of the white man; there moved
grave, long-bearded Arab merchants or Phœnicians in their pointed caps,
or bare-headed white-robed Egyptians, or half-bred mercenaries clad in
mail. Their variety was without end, while from them came a very babel
of different tongues as they cried their wares, bargained and
quarrelled.
Aziel gazed at this novel sight with interest, till, as he was
beginning to weary of it, the crowd parted to right and left, leaving a
clear lane across the market-place to the narrow gate of the temple.
Along this lane advanced a procession of the priests of El clad in red
robes, with tall red caps upon their heads, beneath which their
straight hair hung down to their shoulders. In their hands were gilded
rods, and round their necks hung golden chains, to which were attached
emblems of the god they worshipped. They walked two-and-two to the
number of fifty, chanting a melancholy dirge, one hand of each priest
resting upon his fellow’s shoulder, and as they passed, with the
exception of certain Jews, all the spectators uncovered, while some of
the more pious of them even fell upon their knees.
After the priests came a second procession, that of the priestesses of
Baaltis. These women, who numbered at least a hundred, were clad in
white, and wore upon their heads a gauze-like veil that fell to the
knees, and was held in place by a golden fillet surmounted with the
symbol of a crescent moon. Instead of the golden rods, however, each of
them held in her left hand a growing stalk of maize, from the sheathed
cob of which hung the bright tassel of its bloom. On her right wrist,
moreover, a milk-white dove was fastened by a wire, both corn and dove
being tokens of that fertility which, under various guises, was the
real object of worship of these people. The sight of these white-veiled
women about whose crescent-decked brows the doves fluttered, wildly
striving to be free, was very strange and beautiful as they advanced
also singing a low and melancholy chant. Aziel searched their faces
with his eyes while they passed slowly towards him, and presently his
heart bounded, for there among them, clasping the dove she bore to her
breast, as though to still its frightened strugglings, was the Lady
Elissa. He noticed, too, that as she went beneath the palace walls, she
glanced at the window-place of his chamber, but without seeing him for
he was seated in the shadow.
Presently the long line of priestesses, followed by hundreds of
worshippers, had vanished through the tortuous and narrow entrance of
the temple, and Aziel leaned back to think.
There, among the principal votaries of a goddess, the wickedness of
whose worship was a scandal and a by-word even in the ancient world,
walked the woman to whom he felt so strangely drawn and with whom, if
there were any truth in the visions of Issachar and the mysterious
warnings of his own soul, his fate was intertwined. As he thought of it
a sudden revulsion filled his heart. She was wise and beautiful, and
she seemed innocent, but Issachar was right; this girl was the minister
of an abominable creed; nay, for aught he knew, she was herself defiled
with its abominations, and her wisdom but an evil gift from the evil
powers she served. Could he, a prince of the royal blood of the House
of Israel and of the ancient Pharaohs of Khem, desire to have anything
to do with such an one, he a child of the Chosen People, a worshipper
of the true and only God? Yesterday she had thrown a spell upon him, a
spell of black magic, or the spell of her imperial beauty, which, it
mattered not, but to-day he was the lord of his own mind, and would
shake himself free of it and her.
In the market-place below, the Levite Issachar also had watched the
passing of the priests and priestesses of El and Baaltis.
“Tell me, Metem,” he asked of the Phœnician who stood beside him, his
head respectfully uncovered, “what mummery is this?”
“It is no mummery, worthy Issachar, but a ceremony of public sacrifice,
which is to be offered in the temple yonder, for the recovery from her
sickness of the Lady Baaltis, the high-priestess.”
“Where then is the offering. I see none, unless it be those doves that
are tied to the wrists of the women?”
“Nay, Issachar,” answered Metem smiling darkly, “the gods ask nobler
blood than that of doves. The offering is within, and it is the
first-born child of a priestess of Baaltis.”
“O Lord of Heaven!” said Issachar lifting up his eyes, “how long will
you suffer that this murderous and accursed race should defile the face
of earth?”
“Softly, friend,” broke in Metem, “I have read your Scriptures, and is
it not set out in them that your great forefather was commanded to
offer up his first-born in such a sacrifice?”
“Blaspheme not,” answered the Jew. “He was commanded indeed, that his
heart might be proved, but his hand was stayed. He Whom I worship
delights not in the blood of children.”
Here Issachar broke off, suddenly recognising the lady Elissa among the
white-robed priestesses. Watching her, he noted her glance at the
window of Aziel’s chamber, and saw what she could not see, that the
prince was seated there. “This daughter of Satan spreads her nets,” he
muttered between his teeth. Then a thought struck him, and he added
aloud, “Say, Metem, is it permitted to strangers to witness the rites
in yonder temple?”
“Surely,” answered the Phœnician; “that is, if they guard their
tongues, and do nothing to offend.”
“Then I desire to see them, Metem, and so doubtless does the prince
Aziel. Therefore, if it is your will, do me the service to enter his
chamber in the palace where he is sitting, and bid him to a great
ceremony that goes forward in the temple. And, Metem, if he asks what
that ceremony is, I charge you, say only that a dove is to be
sacrificed.
“I will wait for you at the gate of the temple, but do not tell him
that I send you on this errand. Metem, you love gain; remember that if
you humour me in this and other matters which may arise, doing my
bidding faithfully, I have the treasury of Jerusalem to draw upon.”
“No ill paymaster,” replied Metem cheerfully. “Certainly I will obey
you in all things, holy Issachar, as the king commanded me yonder in
Judea.”
“Now,” he reflected to himself, as he went upon his message, “I see how
the bird flies. The prince Aziel is in love with the lady Elissa, or
far upon the road to it, as at his age it is right and proper that he
should be, after a twelve months’ journey by sea and land with never a
pretty face to sigh for. The holy Issachar, on the other hand, is
minded that his charge shall have naught to do with a priestess of
Baaltis, as, his age and calling considered, is also right and proper.
Then there is that black savage Ithobal, who wishes to win the girl,
and the girl herself, who after the fashion of her sex, will probably
play them all off one against the other. Well, so much the better for
me, since I shall be a richer man even than I am before this affair is
done with. I have two hands, and gold is gold whoever be the giver,”
and smiling craftily to himself Metem passed into the palace.