A GOLDEN TRESS.
Once clear of the Square the two friends apparently became mutually
conscious of the peril they had just escaped, . . and coming to a
sudden standstill they looked at each other in blank, stupefied
silence. Crowds of people streamed past them, wandering hither and
thither in confused, cloudy masses,--some with groans and dire
lamentations bearing away their dead and wounded,--others rushing
frantically about, beating their breasts, tearing their hair, calling
on the gods and lamenting Khosrul, while not a few muttered curses on
the King. And ever and anon the name of "Lysia," coupled with heavy
execrations, was hissed from mouth to mouth, which Theos, overhearing,
began to foresee might serve as a likely cause for Sah-luma's taking
offence and possibly resenting in his own person this public
disparagement of the woman he loved,--therefore, without more ado he
roused himself from his momentarily dazed condition, and urged his
comrade on at a quick pace toward the safe shelter of his own palace,
where at any rate he could be kept out of the reach of immediate harm.
The twain walked side by side, exchanging scarcely a word,--Sah-luma
seemed in a manner stunned by the violence of the late catastrophe, and
Theos was too busy with his own thoughts to speak. On their way they
were overtaken by the King's chariot,--it flew by with a glittering
whirl and clatter, amid sweeping clouds of dust, through which the dark
face of Zephoranim loomed out upon them like an almost palpable shadow.
As it vanished Sah-luma stopped short, and stared at his companion in
utter amazement.
"By my soul!" he exclaimed indignantly.. "The whole world must be going
mad! 'Tis the first time in all my days of Laureateship that Zephoranim
hath failed to reverently salute me as he passed!"
And he looked far more perturbed than when the falling Obelisk
had threatened him with imminent destruction.
Theos caught his arm with a quick movement of vexed impatience.
"Tush, man, no matter!" he said hastily--"What are Kings to thee? ...
thou who art an Emperor of Song? These little potentates that wield
earth's sceptres are as fickle in their moods as the very mob they are
supposed to govern, . . moreover, thou knowest Zephoranim hath had
enough to-day to startle him out of all accustomed rules of courtesy.
Be assured of it, his mind is like a ship at sea, storm-tossed and at
the mercy of the winds,--thou canst not surely blame him, that for once
after so strange a turbulence, and unwonted a disaster, he hath no eyes
for thee whose sole sweet mission, is to minister to pleasure."
"To minister to pleasure!".. echoed Sah-luma petulantly.. "Nay, have I
done nothing more than this? Art thou already grown so disloyal a
friend that thou wilt half repeat the jargon of yon dead fanatic
Khosrul who dared to tell me I had served my Art unfittingly? Have I
not ministered to grief as well as joy? To hours of pain and
bitterness, as well as to long days of ease and amorous dreaming? ...
Have I not..." here he paused and a warm flush crept through the olive
pallor of his skin,--his eyes grew plaintive and wistful and he threw
one arm round Theos's neck as he continued: "No I.. after all 'tis vain
to deny it...I have hated grief,--I have loathed the very suggestion of
care,--I have thrust sorrow out of my sight as a thing vile and
unwelcome,--and I have chosen to sing to the world of rapture more than
pain,--inasmuch as methinks Humanity suffers enough, without having its
cureless anguish set to the music of a poet's rhythm to incessantly
haunt and torture its already breaking heart."
"Say rather to soothe and tranquillize"--murmured Theos, more to
himself than to his friend--"For suppressed sorrow is hardest to
endure, and when grief once finds apt utterance 'tis already half
consoled! So should the world's great singers tenderly proclaim the
world's most speechless miseries, and who knows but vexed Creation
being thus relieved of pent-up woe may not take new heart of grace and
comfort?"
The words were spoken in a soft SOTTO-VOCE, and Sah-luma seemed not to
hear. He leaned, however, very confidingly and affectionately against
Theos's shoulder as he walked along, and appeared to have speedily
forgotten his annoyance at the recent slighting conduct of the King.
"I marvel at the downfall of the Obelisk!" he said presently ... "'Twas
rooted full ten feet deep in solid earth, . . maybe the foundations
were ill-fitted,--nevertheless, if history speaks truly, it hath stood
unshaken for two thousand years! Strange that it should be now hurled
forth thus desperately! ... I would I knew the hidden cause! Many,
alas! have met their death to-day, . . pushed out of life in haste, . .
all unprepared.. One wonders where such souls have fled! Something
there is that troubles me, . . methinks I am more than half disposed to
leave Al-Kyris for a time, and wander forth into a world of unknown
things--"
"With me!" cried Theos impetuously--"Come with me, Sah-luma! ... Come
now, this very day! I too have been warned of evil.. evil undeclared,
yet close at hand, ..let us escape from danger while time remains! ...
Let us depart!"
"Whither should we go?"...and Sah-luma, pausing in his walk, fixed his
large, soft eyes full on his companion as he put the question.
Theos was mute. Covered with confusion, he asked himself the same
thing. "Whither should we go?" He had no knowledge of the country that
lay outside Al-Kyris, . . he had no distinct remembrance of any other
place than this in which he was. All his past existence was as blotted
and blurred as a child's spoiled and discarded copybook, . . true, he
retained two names in his thoughts,--namely "ARDATH" and "THE PASS OF
DARIEL" but he was hopelessly ignorant as to what these meant or how he
had become connected with them! He was roused from his distressful
cogitation by Sah-luma's voice speaking again half gayly, half sadly:
"Nay, nay, my friend! ... we cannot leave the City, we two alone and
unguided, for beyond the gates is the desert wide and bare, with scarce
a spring of cool water in many weary miles,--and beyond the desert is a
forest, gloomy and tiger haunted, wherein the footsteps of man have
seldom penetrated. To travel thus far we should need much preparation,
. . many servants, many beasts of burden, and many months' provision..
moreover, 'tis a foolish, fancy crossed my mind at best,--for what
should I, the Laureate of Al-Kyris, do in other lands? Besides, my
departure would indeed be the desolation of the city,--well may
Al-Kyris fall when Sah-luma no longer abides within it! Seawards the
way lies open,--maybe, in days to come, we twain may take ship and sail
hence for a brief sojourn to those distant western shores, whence thou,
though thou sayest naught of them, must assuredly have come; I have
often dreamed idly of a gray coast washed with dull rain and swathed in
sweeping mists, where ever and anon the sun shines through,--a country
cheerless, where a poet's fame like mine might ring the darkness of the
skies with light, and stir the sleepy silence into song!"
Still Theos said nothing,--there were hot tears in his throat that
choked his utterance. He gazed up at the glowing sky above him,--it was
a burning vault of cloudless blue in which the sun glared forth
witheringly like a scorching mass of flame, . . Oh for the freshness of
a "gray coast washed with dull rain and swathed in sweeping mists" ...
such as Sah-luma spoke of! ... and what a strange sickening yearning
suddenly filled his soul for the unforgotten sonorous dash of the sea!
He drew a quick breath and pressed his friend's arm with unconscious
fervor, . . why, why could he not take this dear companion away out of
possible peril? ... away to those far lands dimly remembered, yet now
so completely lost sight of, that they seemed to him but as a delusive
mirage faintly discerned above the rising waters of Lethe! Sighing
deeply, he controlled his emotion and forced himself to speak calmly
though his voice trembled..
"Not now then, but hereafter, thou'lt be my fellow-traveller, Sah-luma?
... 'twill be a joyous time when we, set free of present hindrance, may
journey through a myriad glorious scenes together, sharing such new and
mutual gladness that perchance we scarce shall miss the splendor of
Al-Kyris left behind! Meanwhile I would that thou couldst promise me
one thing,".. here he paused, but, seeing Sah-luma's inquiring look,
went on in a low, eager tone! "Go not to the Temple to-night!--absent
thyself from this Sacrifice, which, though it be the law of the realm,
is nevertheless mere murderous barbarity,--and--inasmuch as the King is
wrathful--I pray thee avoid his presence!"
Sah-luma broke into a laugh.. "Now by my faith, good comrade, as well
ask me for my head as demand such impossibilities! Absent myself from
the temple to-night of all nights in the world, when owing to these
late phenomenal occurrences in the city, every one who is of repute and
personal distinction will be present to assist at the Service and offer
petitions to the fabulous gods that haply their supposititious
indignation may be averted? My friend, if only for the sake of custom I
must be there, . . moreover, I should be liable to banishment from the
realm for so specially marked a breach of religious discipline! And as
for the King, he is my puppet; were he savage as a starving bear my
voice could tame him,--and concerning his late churlishness 'twas no
doubt mere heat of humor, and thou shalt see him sue to me for pardon
as only monarchs can sue to the bards who keep them in their thrones!
Knowest thou not that were I to string three stanzas of a fiery
republican ditty, and set it floating on the lips of the people, that
song would sing down Zephoranim from his royal estate more surely than
the fury of an armed conqueror! Believe it!--WE, the poets, rule the
nation, . . A rhyme has oft had power to kill a king!"
Theos smiled at the proud boast, but made no reply, as by this time
they had reached the Laureate's palace, and were ascending the steps
that led into the entrance-hall. A young page advanced to meet them,
and, dropping on one knee before his master, held out a small scroll
tied across and across with what appeared to be a thick strand of
amber-colored floss silk.
"For the most illustrious Chief of Poets, Sah-luma" ... said the little
lad, keeping his head bent humbly as he spoke ... "It was brought
lately by one masked, who rode in haste and fear, and, ere he could be
questioned, swift departed."
Sah-luma took the missive carelessly, scarcely glancing at it, and
crossed the hall toward his own apartment, Theos following him. On his
way, however, he paused and turned round:
"Has Niphrata yet come home?" he demanded of the page who still
lingered.
"No, my lord! ... naught hath been seen or heard concerning her."
Sah-luma gave a petulant gesture of annoyance and passed on. Arrived in
his study he seated himself, and allowed his eyes to rest more
attentively on the packet just given him. As he looked he uttered a
slight exclamation, . . Theos hastened to his side. "What has happened,
Sah-luma? ... hast thou ill news?"
"Ill news?--nay, of a truth I know not".. and the Laureate gazed up
blankly into his friend's face.. "But this" ... and he touched the fair
silken substance that tied the scroll he held, "this is Niphrata's
hair!"
"Niphrata's hair!".. Theos was too much surprised to do more than
repeat the words mechanically, while a strange pang shot through his
heart as of inward shame or sorrow.
"Naught can deceive me in the color of that gold!" went on Sah-luma
dreamily, as with careful, somewhat tremulous fingers, he gently
loosened the twisted shining threads that were so delicately knotted
together, and smoothing them out to their full length, displayed what
was indeed a lovely tress of hair bright as woven sunlight with a
rippling wave in it that, like the tendril of a vine caught and wound
about his hand as though it were a fond and feeling thing.
"See you not, Theos, how warm and soft and shuddering a curl it is? ...
It clings to me as if it knew my touch!--as if it half remembered how
many and many a time it had been drawn with its companions to my lips
and kissed full tenderly! ... How sad and desolate it seems thus
severed and alone!"
He spoke gently, yet not without a touch of passion, and twined the
fair tresses lingeringly round his fingers, ..then, with the air of one
who is instinctively prepared for some unpleasing tidings, he opened
the scroll and perused its contents in silence. As he read on, his face
grew very grave, and full of pained and wondering regret.. quietly he
passed the missive to Theos, who took it from his hand with a tremor of
something like fear. The delicately traced characters with which it was
covered floated for a moment in a faint blur before his eyes,--then
they resolved themselves into legible shape and meaning, as follows:
"To the ever-worshiped and immortally renowned
"Sah-luma.
"Poet-Laureate of the Kingdom of Al-Kyris.
"Blame me not, O my beloved Lord, that I have left thy
dearest presence thus unwarnedly forever, staying no time to weary thee
with my too fond and foolish tears and kisses of farewell! I owe to
thee the gift of freedom, and while I thank thee for that gift, I do
employ it now to serve me as a sacrifice to Love,--an immolation of
myself upon the altars of my own desire! For thou knowest I have loved
thee, O Sah-luma--not too well but most unwisely,--for what am I that
thou shouldst stoop to cover my unworthiness with the royal purple of
thy poet-passion? ... what could I ever be save the poor trembling
slave-idolater, of whose endearments thou must needs most speedily
tire! Nevertheless I cannot still this hunger of my heart,--this love
that stings me more than it consoles,--and out of the very transport of
my burning thoughts I have learned many and strange things,--things
whereby I, a woman feebled and unlessoned, have grasped the glimmering
foreknowledge of events to come,--events wherein I do perceive for
thee, thou Chiefest among men, some dark and threatening disaster. When
fore I have prayed unto the most high gods, that they will deign to
accept me as thy hostage to misfortune, and set me as a bar between thy
life and dawning peril, so that I, long valueless, may serve at least
awhile to avert doom from thee who art unparagoned throughout the world!
"Thus I go forth alone to brave and pacify the wrath of the
Immortals,--call me not back nor weep for my departure, . . thou wilt
not miss me long! To die for thee, Sah-luma, is better than to live for
thee, . . for living I must needs be conquered by my sin of love and
lose myself and thee,--but in the quiet Afterwards of Death, no passion
shall have strength to mar the peaceful, patient waiting of my soul on
thine! Farewell thou utmost heart of my weak heart! ..thou only life of
my frail life! ... think of me sometimes if thou will, but only as of a
flower thou didst gather once in some past half-forgotten spring-time..
a flower that, as it slowly withered, blessed the dear hand in whose
warm clasp it died! "NIPHRATA."
Tears rose to Theos's eyes as he finished reading these evidently
unpremeditated pathetic words that suggested so much more than they
actually declared. He silently returned the scroll to Sah-luma, who sat
very still, thoughtfully stroking the long, bright curl that was
twisted round his fingers like a glittering strand of spun glass,--and
he felt all at once so unreasonably irritated with his friend, that he
was even inclined to find fault with the very grace and beauty of his
person, . . the mere indolence of his attitude was, for the moment,
provoking.
"Why art thou so unmoved?" he demanded almost sternly.
"What hast thou done to Niphrata, to thus grieve her gentle spirit
beyond remedy?"
Sah-luma looked up, like a surprised child.
"Done? ... Nay, what should I do? ... I have let her love me!"
O sublime permission! ... he had "LET HER LOVE" him! ... He had
condescendingly allowed her, as it were, to waste all the treasures of
her soul upon him! Theos stared at him in vague amazement,--while he,
apparently tired of his own reflections, continued with some impatience:
"What more could she desire? ... I never barred her from my presence,
... nor checked the fervor of her greetings! I wore the flowers she
chose,--I listened to the songs she sang, and when she looked more fair
than ordinary I stinted not the warmth of my caresses. She was too meek
and loving for my fancy ... no will save mine--no happiness save in my
company,--no thought beyond my pleasure--one wearies of such a fond
excess of sweetness! Nevertheless her sole delight was still to serve
me,--could I debar her from that joy because I saw therein some danger
for her peace? Slave as she was, I made her free--and lo! how
capriciously she plays with her late-given liberty! 'Tis always the way
with women,--no man shall ever learn how best to please them! She knew
I loved her not as lovers love,--she knew my heart was elsewhere fixed
and fated ... and if, notwithstanding this knowledge, she still chose
to love me, then assuredly her grief is of her own creating! Methinks
'tis I who am most injured in this matter! ... all the day long I have
tormented myself concerning the silly maiden's absence, while she,
seized by some crazed idea of new adventure, has gone forth heedlessly,
scarce knowing whither. Her letter is the exalted utterance of an
overwrought, excited brain,--she has in all likelihood caught the
contagion of superstitious alarm that seems just now to possess the
whole city, and she knows naught of what she writes or what she means
to do. To leave me forever, as she says, is out of her power,--for I
will demand her back at the hands of Lysia or the King,--and no demand
of mine has ever been refused. Moreover, with Lysia's aid, her
hiding-place is soon and easily discovered!"
"How?" asked Theos mechanically, still surveying the beautiful, calm
features of the charming egotist whose nature seemed such a curious
mixture of loftiness and littleness.. "She may have left the city!"
"No one can leave the city without express permission,"--rejoined
Sah-luma tranquilly--"Besides, . . didst thou not see the Black Disc
last night in Lysia's palace?"
Theos nodded assent. He at once remembered the strange revolving thing
that had covered itself with brilliant letters at the approach of the
High Priestess, and he waited somewhat eagerly to hear the meaning of
so singular an object explained.
"The Priest of the Temple of Nagaya,"--went on Sah-luma--"are the
greatest scientists in the world, with the exception of the lately
formed Circle of Mystics, who it must be confessed exceed them in
certain new lines of discovery. But setting aside the Mystic School,
which it behoves us not to speak of, seeing it is condemned by
law,--there are no men living more subtly wise in matters pertaining to
aerial force and light-phenomena, than the Servants of the Secret
Doctrine of the Temple. All seeming-marvellous things are to them mere
child's play,--and the miracles by which they keep the multitude in awe
are not by any means vulgar, but most exquisitely scientific. As, for
instance, at the great New Year Festival, called by us 'The
Sailing-Forth of the Ship of the Sun,'--which takes place at the
commencement of the Spring solstice, a fire is kindled on the summit of
the highest tower, and a Ship of gold rises from the centre of the
flames, carrying the body of a slain virgin eastwards, . . 'tis
wondrously performed! ... and I, like others, have gaped upon the
splendor of the scene half-credulous, and wholly dazzled! For the Ship
doth rise aloft with excellent stateliness, plowing the air with as
much celerity as sailing-vessels plow the seas; departing straightway
from the watching eyes of thousands of spectators, it plunges deep, or
so it seems, into the very heart of the rising Sun, which doth
apparently absorb it in devouring flames of glory, for never again doth
it return to earth, . . and none can solve the mystery of its
vanishing! 'Tis a graceful piece of jugglery and perfectly
accomplished, . . while as for Oracles [Footnote: The Phonograph was
known and used for the utterance of Oracles by one Savan the Asmounian,
a Priest-King of ancient Egypt.] that command and repeat their commands
in every shade of tone, from mild to wrathful, there are only too many
of these, . . moreover the secret of their manufacture is well known to
all students of acoustic science. But concerning the Black Disc in
Lysia's hall, it is a curiously elaborate piece of workmanship. It
corresponds with an electric wheel in the Interior Chamber of the
Temple, where all the priests and flamens meet and sum up the entire
events of the day, both public and private, condensing the same into
brief hieroglyphs. Setting their wheel in motion, they start a similar
motion in the Disc, and the bright characters that flash upon it and
disappear like quicksilver, are the reflection of the working electric
wires which write what only Lysia is skilled to read. From sunset to
midnight these messages keep coming without intermission,--and all the
most carefully concealed affairs of Al-Kyris are discovered by the
Temple Spies and conveyed to Lysia by this means. Whatever the news, it
is repeated again and again on the Disc, till she, by rapidly turning
it with a peculiar movement of her own, causes a small bell to ring in
the Temple, which signifies to her informers that she has understood
all their communications, and knows everything. Her inquisitorial
system is searching and elaborate, . . there is no secret so carefully
guarded that the Black Disc will not in time reveal!"
Theos listened wonderingly and with a sense of repugnance and fear, ...
he felt as though the beautiful Priestess, with her glittering robes
and the dreadful jewelled Eye upon her breast, were just then entering
the room stealthily and rustling hither and thither like a snake
beneath covering leaves. She was an ever-present Temptation,--a
bewildering snare and distracting evil,--was it not possible to shake
her trail off the life of his friend-and also to pluck from out his own
heart the poison-sting of her fatal, terrible fascination? A red mist
swam before his eyes--his lips were dry and feverish,--his voice
sounded hoarse and faint in his own ears when he forced himself to
speak again.
"So thou dost think that, wheresoever Niphrata hath strayed, Lysia can
find her?" he said.
"Assuredly!" returned Sah-luma with easy complacency--"I would swear
that, even at this very moment, Lysia could restore her to my arms in
safety."
"Then why" ... suggested Theos anxiously--"why not go forth and seek
her now?"
"Nay, there is time!" ... and Sah-luma half closed his languid lids and
stretched himself lazily. "I would not have the child imagine I vexed
myself too greatly for her unkind departure, . . she must have space
wherein to weep and repent her of her folly. She is the strangest
maiden!" ... and he brushed his lips lightly against the golden curl he
held,--She loves me, . . and yet repulses all attempted passion,--I
remember" ... here his face grew more serious--"I remember one night in
the beginning of summer,--the moon was round and high in heaven,--we
were alone together in this room,--the lamps burned low,--and she..
Niphrata, . . sang to me. Her voice was full, and withal
tremulous,--her form, bent to her ebony harp was soft and yielding as
an iris stem, her eyes turned upon mine seemed wonderingly to question
me as to the worth of love! ... or so I fancied. The worth of love! ...
I would have taught it to her then in the rapture of an hour!--but
seized with sudden foolish fear she fled, leaving me dissatisfied,
indifferent, and weary! No matter! when she returns again her mood will
alter, . . and though I love her not as she would fain be loved, I
shall find means to make her happy."
"Nay, but she speaks of dying".. said Theos quickly ... "Wilt thou
constrain her back from death?"
"My friend, all women speak of dying when they are love-wearied" ...
replied Sah-luma with a slight smile ... "Niphrata will not die, ...
she is too young and fond of life, ... the world is as a garden wherein
she has but lately entered, all ignorant of the pleasures that await
her there. 'Tis an odd notion that she has of danger threatening
me,--thou also, good Theos, art become full of omens,--and yet, . .
there is naught of visible ill to trouble the fairness of the day."
He stepped out as he spoke on the terrace and looked up at the intense
calm of the lovely sky. Theos followed him, and stood leaning on the
balustrade among the clambering vines, watching him with earnest,
half-regretful half-adoring eyes. He, meanwhile, gathered a scarcely
opened white rosebud and loosening the tress of Niphrata's hair from
his fingers, allowed it to hang to its full rippling length,--then
laying the flower against it, he appeared dreamily to admire the
contrast between the snowy blossom and shining curl.
"Many strange men there are in the world," he said softly--"lovers and
fools who set priceless store on a rose and a lock of woman's hair! I
have heard of some who, dying, have held such trifles as chiefest of
all their worldly goods, and have implored that whereas their gold and
household stuff can be bestowed freely on him who first comes to claim
it, the faded flower and senseless tress may be laid on their hearts to
comfort them in the cold and dreamless sleep from which they shall not
wake again!" He sighed and his eyes darkened into deep and musing
tenderness. "Poets there have been too and are, who would string many a
canticle on this soft severed lock and gathered blossom,--and many a
quaint conceit could I myself contrive concerning it, did I not feel
more prone to tears to-day than minstrelsy. Canst thou believe it,
Theos"--and he forced a laugh, though his lashes were wet, . . "I, the
joyous Sah-luma, am for once most truly sad! ... this tress of hair
doth seem to catch my spirit in a chain that binds me fast and draws me
onward.. onward.. to some mournful end I may not dare to see!"
And as he spoke he mechanically wound the golden curl round and about
the stem of the rosebud in the fashion of a ribbon, and placed the two
entwined together in his breast. Theos looked at him wistfully, but was
silent, . . he himself was too full of dull and melancholy misgivings
to be otherwise than sad also. Instinctively he drew closer to his
friend's side, and thus they remained for some minutes, exchanging no
words, and gazing dreamily out on the luxurious foliage of the trees
and the wealth of bright blossoms that adorned the landscape before
them.
"Thou art confident Niphrata will return?" questioned Theos presently
in a low tone.
"She will return,".. rejoined Sah-luma quietly--"because she will do
anything for love of me."
"For love's sake she may die!" said Theos. Sah-luma smiled.
"Not so, my friend! ... for love's sake she will live!"