THE BLACK DWARF
Some two hours had passed since the break-up of the assembly in the
great hall. Prince Aziel was seated in his chamber, when the keeper of
the door announced that a woman was without who desired to speak with
him. He gave orders that she should be admitted, and presently a veiled
figure entered the room and bowed before him.
“Be pleased to unveil, and to tell me your business,” he said.
With some reluctance his visitor withdrew the wrapping from her head,
revealing a face which Aziel recognised as one that he had seen among
the waiting women who attended on Elissa.
“My message is for your ear, Prince,” she said, glancing at the man who
had ushered her into the chamber.
“It is not my custom to receive strangers thus alone,” said the prince;
“but be it as you will,” and he motioned to the servant to retire
without the door. “I await your pleasure,” he added, when the man had
gone.
“It is here,” she answered, and drew from her bosom a little papyrus
roll.
“Who wrote this?” he asked.
“I know not, Prince; it was given to me to pass on to you.”
Then he opened the roll and read. It ran thus: “Though we parted with
bitter words, still in my sore distress I crave the comfort of your
counsel. Therefore, since I am forbidden to speak with you openly, meet
me, I beseech you, at moonrise in the palace garden under the shade of
the great fig tree with five roots, where I shall be accompanied only
by one I trust. Bring no man with you for my safety’s sake.—Elissa.”
Aziel thrust the scroll into his robe, and thought awhile. Then he gave
the waiting lady a piece of gold and said:—
“Tell her who sent you that I obey her words. Farewell.”
This message seemed to puzzle the woman, who opened her lips to speak.
Then, changing her mind, she turned and went.
Scarcely had she gone when the Phœnician, Metem, was ushered into the
room.
“O Prince,” he said maliciously, “pardon me if I caution you. Yet in
truth if veiled ladies flit thus through your apartments in the light
of day, it will reach the ears of the holy but violent Issachar, of
whose doings I come to speak. Then, Prince, I tremble for you.”
Aziel made a movement half-impatient and half-contemptuous. “The woman
is a serving-maid,” he said, “who brought me a message that I
understand but little. Tell me, Metem, for you know this place of old,
does there stand in the palace garden a great fig tree with five
roots?”
“Yes, Prince; at least such a tree used to grow there when last I
visited this country. It was one of the wonders of the town, because of
its size. What of it?”
“Little, except that I must be under it at moonrise. See and read,
since whatever you may say of yourself, you are, I think, no traitor.”
“Not if I am well paid to keep counsel, Prince,” Metem answered with a
smile. Then he read the scroll.
“I am glad that the noble lady brings an attendant with her,” he said
as he returned it, with a bow. “The gossips of Zimboe are censorious,
and might misinterpret this moonlight meeting, as indeed would Sakon
and Issachar. Well, doves will coo and maids will woo, and unless I can
make money out of it the affair is none of mine.”
“Have I not told you that there is no question of wooing?” asked the
prince angrily. “I go only to give her what counsel I can in the matter
of the suit of this savage, Ithobal. The lady Elissa and I have
quarrelled beyond repair over that accursed sacrifice——”
“Which her ready wit prevented,” put in Metem.
“But I promised last night that I would help her if I could,” the
prince went on, “and I always keep my word.”
“I understand, Prince. Well, since you turn from the lady, whose name
with yours is so much in men’s mouths just now, doubtless you will give
her wise counsel, namely, to wed Ithobal, and lift the shadow of war
from this city. Then, indeed, we shall all be grateful to you, for it
seems that no one else can move her stubbornness. And, by the way: If,
when she has listened to your wisdom, the daughter of Sakon should
chance to explain to you that the sight of this day’s attempted
sacrifice filled her with horror, and that she parted with every jewel
she owns to put an end to it—well, her words will be true. But, since
you have quarrelled, they will have no more interest for you, Prince,
than has my talk about them. So now to other matters.” And Metem began
to speak of the conduct of Issachar in the sanctuary, and of the
necessity of guarding him against assassination at the hands of the
priests of El as a consequence of his religious zeal. Presently he was
gone, leaving Aziel somewhat bewildered.
Could it be true, as she herself had told him, and as Metem now
asserted, that Elissa had not participated willingly in the dark rites
in the temple? If so he had misjudged her and been unjust; indeed, what
atonement could suffice for such words as he had used towards her?
Well, to some extent she must have understood and forgiven them,
otherwise she would scarcely have sought his aid, though he knew not
how he could help her in her distress.
When Elissa returned from the assembly, she laid herself down to rest,
worn out in mind and body. Soon sleep came to her, and with the sleep
dreams. At first these were vague and shadowy, then they grew more
clear. She dreamed that she saw a dim and moonlit garden, and in it a
vast tree with twisted roots that seemed familiar to her. Something
moving among the branches of this tree attracted her attention, but for
a long while she watched it without being able to discover what it was.
Now she saw. The moving thing was a hideous black dwarf with beady
eyes, who held in his hand a little ivory tipped bow, on the string of
which was set an arrow. Her consciousness concentrated itself upon this
arrow, and though she knew not how, she became aware that it was
poisoned. What was the dwarf doing in the tree with a bow and poisoned
arrow, she wondered? Suddenly a sound seemed to strike her ear, the
sound of a man’s footsteps walking over grass, and she perceived that
the figure of the dwarf, crouched upon the bough, became tense and
alert, and that his fingers tightened upon the bow-string until the
blood was driven from their yellow tips. Following the glance of his
wicked black eyes, she saw advancing through the shadow a tall man clad
in a dark robe. Now he emerged into a patch of moonlight and stood
looking around him as though he were searching for some one. Then the
dwarf raised himself to his knees upon the bough, and, aiming at the
bare throat of the man, drew the bow-string to his ear. At this moment
the victim turned his head and the moonlight shone full upon his face.
It was that of the prince Aziel.
Elissa awoke from her vision with a little cry, then rose trembling,
and strove to comfort herself in the thought that although it was so
very vivid she had dreamed but a dream. Still shaken and unnerved, she
passed into another chamber, and made pretence to eat of the meal that
was made ready for her, for it was now the hour of sunset. While she
was thus employed, it was announced that the Phœnician, Metem, desired
to speak with her, and she commanded that he should be admitted.
“Lady,” he said bowing, so soon as her attendants had withdrawn to the
farther end of the chamber, “you can guess my errand. This morning I
gave you certain tidings which proved both true and useful, and for
those tidings you promised a reward.”
“It is so,” she said, and going to a chest she drew from it an ivory
casket full of ornaments of gold and among them necklaces and other
objects set with uncut precious stones. “Take them,” she said, “they
are yours; that is, save this gold chain alone, for it is vowed to
Baaltis.”
“But lady,” he asked, “how can you appear before Ithobal the king thus
robbed of all your ornaments?”
“I shall not appear before Ithobal the king,” she answered sharply.
“You say so! Then what will the prince Aziel think of you when he sees
you thus unadorned?”
“My beauty is my adornment,” she replied, “not these gems and gold.
Moreover, it is nought to me what he thinks, for he hates me, and has
reviled me.”
Metem lifted his eyebrows incredulously and went on: “Still, I will not
deprive you of this woman’s gear. Look now, I value it, and at no high
figure,” and drawing out his writer’s palette and a slip of papyrus, he
wrote upon it an acknowledgment of debt, which he asked her to sign.
“This document, lady,” he said, “I will present to your father—or your
husband—at a convenient season, nor do I fear that either of them will
refuse to honour it. And now I take my leave, for you—have an
appointment to keep—and,” he added with emphasis, “the time of moonrise
is at hand.”
“Your meaning, I pray you?” she asked. “I have no appointment at
moonrise, or at any other hour.”
Metem bowed politely, but in a fashion which showed that he put no
faith in her words.
“Again I ask your meaning, merchant,” she said, “for your dark hintings
are scarcely to be borne.”
The Phœnician looked at her; there was a ring of truth in her voice.
“Lady,” he said, “will you indeed deny, after I have seen it written by
yourself, that within some few minutes you meet the prince Aziel
beneath a great tree in the palace gardens, there—so said the scroll—to
ask his aid in this matter of the suit of Ithobal?”
“Written by myself?” she said wonderingly. “Meet the prince Aziel
beneath a tree in the palace gardens? Never have I thought of it.”
“Yet, lady, the scroll I saw purported to be written by you, and your
own woman bore it to the prince. As I think, she sits yonder at the end
of the chamber, for I know her shape.”
“Come hither,” called Elissa, addressing the woman. “Now tell me, what
scroll was this that you carried to-day to the prince Aziel, saying
that I sent you?”
“Lady,” answered the girl confusedly, “I never told the prince Aziel
that you sent him the scroll.”
“The truth, woman, the truth,” said her mistress. “Lie not, or it will
be the worse for you.”
“Lady, this is the truth. As I was walking through the market-place an
old black woman met me, and offered me a piece of gold if I would
deliver a letter into the hand of the prince Aziel. The gold tempted
me, for I had need of it, and I consented; but of who wrote the letter
I know nothing, nor have I ever seen the woman before.”
“You have done wrong, girl,” said Elissa, “but I believe your tale. Now
go.”
When she had gone, Elissa stood for a while thinking; and, as she
thought, Metem saw a look of fear gather on her face.
“Say,” she asked him, “is there anything strange about the tree of
which the scroll tells?”
“Its size is strange,” he answered, “and it has five roots that stand
above the ground.”
As he spoke Elissa uttered a little cry.
“Ah!” she said, “it is the tree of my dream. Now—now I understand.
Swift, oh! come with me swiftly, for see, the moon rises,” and she
sprang to the door followed by the amazed Metem.
Another minute, and they were speeding down the narrow street so fast
that those who loitered there turned their heads and laughed, for they
thought that a jealous husband pursued his wife. As Elissa fumbled at
the hasp of the door of the garden, Metem overtook her.
“What means this hunt?” he gasped.
“That they have decoyed the prince here to murder him,” she answered,
and sped through the gateway.
“Therefore we must be murdered also. A woman’s logic,” the Phœnician
reflected to himself as he panted after her.
Swiftly as Elissa had run down the street, here she redoubled her
speed, flitting through the glades like some white spirit, and so
rapidly that her companion found it difficult to keep her in view. At
length they came to a large open space of ground where played the level
beams of the rising moon, striking upon the dense green foliage of an
immense tree that grew there. Round this tree Elissa ran, glancing
about her wildly, so that for a few seconds Metem lost sight of her,
for its mass was between them. When he saw her again she was speeding
towards the figure of a man who stood in the open, about ten paces from
the outer boughs of the tree. To this she pointed as she came, crying
out aloud, “Beware! Beware!”
Another moment and she had almost reached the man, and still pointing
began to gasp some broken words. Then, suddenly in the bright
moonlight, Metem saw a shining point of light flash towards the pair
from the darkness of the tree. It would seem that Elissa saw it also;
at least, she leapt from the ground, her arm lifted above her head as
though to catch the object. Then as her feet once more touched the
earth her knees gave way, and she fell down with a moan of pain. Metem
running on towards her, as he went perceived a shape, which looked like
that of a black dwarf, slip from the shadow of the tree into some
bushes beyond where it was lost. Now he was there, to find Elissa
half-seated, half-lying on the ground, the prince Aziel bending over
her, and fixed through the palm of her right hand, which she held up
piteously, a little ivory-pointed arrow.
“Draw it out from the wound,” he panted.
“It will not help me,” she answered; “the arrow is poisoned.”
With an exclamation, Metem knelt beside her, and, not heeding her
groans of pain, drew the dart through the pierced palm. Then he tore a
strip of linen from his robe, and knotting it round Elissa’s wrist, he
took a broken stick that lay near and twisted the linen till it almost
cut into her flesh.
“Now, Prince,” he said, “suck the wound, for I have no breath for it.
Fear not, lady, I know an antidote for this arrow poison, and presently
I will be back with the salve. Till then, if you would live, do not
suffer that bandage to be loosed, however much it pains you,” and he
departed swiftly.
Aziel put his lips to the hurt to draw out the poison.
“Nay,” she said faintly, trying to pull away her hand, “it is not
fitting, the venom may kill you.”
“It seems that it was meant for me,” he answered, “so at the worst I do
take but my own.”
Presently, directing Elissa to hold her hand above her head, he put his
arms about her and carried her a hundred paces or more into the open
glade.
“Why do you move me?” she asked, her head resting on his shoulder.
“Because whoever it was that shot the arrow may return to try his
fortune a second time, and here in the open his darts cannot reach us.”
Then he set her down upon the grass and stood looking at her.
“Listen, prince Aziel,” Elissa said after a while, “the venom with
which these black men soak their weapons is very strong, and unless
Metem’s salve be good, it may well chance that I shall die. Therefore
before I die I wish to say a word to you. What brought you to this
place to-night?”
“A letter from yourself, lady.”
“I know it,” she said, “but I did not write that letter; it was a
snare, set, as I think, by the king Ithobal, who would do you to death
in this way or in that. A messenger of his bribed my waiting-maid to
deliver it, and afterwards I learnt the tale from Metem. Then, guessing
all, I came hither to try to save you.”
“But how could you guess all, lady?”
“In a strange fashion, Prince.” And in a few words she told him her
dream.
“This is marvellous indeed, that you should be warned of my danger by
visions,” he said wondering, and half-doubtingly.
“So marvellous, Prince, that you do not believe me,” Elissa answered.
“I know well what you think. You think that a woman to whom this very
morning you spoke such words as women cannot well forgive, being
revengeful laid a plot to murder you, and then, being a woman, changed
her mind. Well, it is not so; Metem can prove it to you!”
“Lady, I believe you,” he said, “without needing the testimony of
Metem. But now the story grows still more strange, for if you had done
me no wrong, how comes it that to preserve me from harm you set your
tender flesh between the arrow and one who had reviled you?”
“It was by chance,” she answered faintly. “I learnt the truth and ran
to warn you. Then I saw the arrow fly towards your heart, and strove to
grasp it, and it pierced me. It was by chance, by such a chance as made
me dream your danger.” And she fainted.