THE SACRIFICE.
A solemn silence ensued. Consternation and wrath were depicted on every
countenance. The Sacred Service was interrupted! ... a defiance had
been hurled as it were in the very teeth of the god Nagaya! ... and
this horrible outrage to Religion and Law had been actually committed
by the Laureate of the realm! It was preposterous, ... incredible! ...
and the gaping crowds reached over each other's shoulders to stare at
the offender, pressing forward eager, wondering, startled faces, which
to Theos looked far more spectral than real, seen in the shimmering
green radiance that was thrown flickering upon them from the luminous
Arch above the Altar. The priests stood still in speechless
indignation, . . Lysia moved not at all, nor raised her eyes; only her
lips parted in a very slight cold smile.
Seized with mortal dread, Theos gazed helplessly at his reckless,
beautiful poet friend, who with head erect and visage white as a waning
moon, haughtily confronted his Sovereign and audaciously asserted his
right to be heard, even in the Holy place of worship! The King was the
first to break the breathless stillness: his words came harshly from
his throat, . . and the great muscles in his neck seemed to swell
visibly with his hardly controlled anger.
"Peace! ... Thou art suddenly distraught, Sah-luma! ..." he said, in
half-smothered, fierce accents--"How darest thou uplift thy clamorous
tongue thus wantonly before Nagaya, and interrupt the progress of his
Sacred Ritual? ... check thy mad speech! ... if ever yonder maid were
thine, 'tis certain she is thine no longer; ... she hath offered
herself, a voluntary sacrifice, and the gods are pleased to claim what
thou perchance hast failed to value!"
For all answer, Sah-luma flung himself desperately at the monarch's
feet. "Zephoranim!" he cried again ... "I tell thee she is mine! ...
mine, as truly mine as Love can make her! Oh, she is chaster than
lily-buds in her sweet body! ... but in her spirit she is
wedded--wedded to me, Sah-luma, whom thou, O King, hast ever delighted
to honor! And now must I kneel to thee in vain?--thou whose victories I
have sung, whose praises I have chanted in burning words that shall
carry thy name forever with triumph, down to unborn generations? ...
Wilt thou become inglorious? ... a warrior stricken strengthless by the
mummeries of priestcraft,--the juggleries of a perishing creed? Thou
art the ruler of Al-Kyris,--thou and thou only! Restore to me this
innocent virgin-life that has scarcely yet begun to bloom! ... speak
but the word and she is saved! ... and her timely rescue shall add
lustre to the record of thy noblest deeds!"
His matchless voice, full of passionate pulsations, exercised for a
moment a resistless influence and magnetic charm. The King's lowering
brows relaxed,--and a gleam of pity passed like light across his
countenance. Instinctively he extended his hand to raise Sah-luma from
his humble attitude, as though, even in his wrath, he were conscious of
the immense intellectual superiority of a great Poet to ever so great a
King; and a thrill of involuntary compassion seemed at the same time to
run sympathetically through the vast congregation. Theos drew a quick
breath of relief, and glanced at Niphrata, ... how cold and unconcerned
was her demeanor! ... Did she not hear Sah-luma's pleading in her
behalf? ... No matter!--she would be saved, he thought, and all would
yet be well!
And truly it now appeared as if mercy, and not cruelty, were to be the
order of the hour, . . for just then the Priest Zel, after having
exchanged a few inaudible words with Lysia, advanced again to the front
of the Shrine and spoke in distinct tones of forced gentleness and
bland forbearance:
"Hear me, O King, Princes and People! ... Whereas it has unhappily
occurred, to the wonder and sorrow of many, that the holy Spouse of the
divine Nagaya is delayed in her desired departure, by the unforeseen
opposition and unedifying contumacy of Sah-luma, Poet Laureate of this
realm; and lest it may be perchance imagined by the uninitiated, that
the maiden is in any way unwilling to fulfil her glorious destiny, the
High and Immaculate Priestess of the Shrine doth bid me here pronounce
a respite; a brief interval wherein, if the King and the People be
willing, he who is named Sah-luma shall, by virtue of his high renown,
be permitted to address the Virgin-victim and ascertain her own wishes
from her own lips. Injustice cannot dwell within this Sacred
Temple,--and if, on trial, the maiden chooses the transitory joys of
Earth in preference to the everlasting joys of the Palaces of the Sun,
then in Nagaya's name shall she go free!--inasmuch as the god loves not
a reluctant bride, and better no Sacrifice at all, than one that is
grudgingly consummated!"
He ceased,--and Sah-luma sprang erect, his eyes sparkling, his whole
demeanor that of a man unexpectedly disburdened from some crushing
grief.
"Thanks be unto the benevolent destinies!" he exclaimed, flashing a
quick glance of gratitude toward Lysia, . . the statuesque Lysia, on
whose delicately curved lips the faintly derisive smile still lingered
... "And in return for the life of my Niphrata I will give a thousand
jewels rare beyond all price to deck Nagaya's tabernacle!--and I will
pour libations to the Sun for twenty days and nights, in token of my
heart's requital for mercy well bestowed!"
Stooping he kissed the King's hand,--whereupon at a sign from Zel, one
of the priests attired in scarlet unfastened Niphrata's bound hands,
and led her, as one leads a blind child, straight up to where Sah-luma
and Theos stood, close beside the King, who, together with many others,
stared curiously upon her. How fixed and feverishly brilliant were her
large dark-blue eyes! ... how set were the sensitive lines of her
mouth!--how indifferent she seemed, how totally unaware of the
Laureate's presence! The priest who brought her retired into the
background, and she remained where he left her, quite mute and
motionless. Oh, how every nerve in Theos's body throbbed with
inexpressible agony as he beheld her thus! The wildest remorse
possessed him, . . it was as though he looked on the dim picture of a
ruin which he himself had recklessly wrought, . . and he could have
groaned aloud in the horrible vagueness of his incomprehensible
despair! Sah-luma caught the girl's hand, and peered into her white,
still face.
"Niphrata! .. .Niphrata!" he said in a tremulous half-whisper, "I am
here,--Sah-luma! ... Dost thou not know me!"
She sighed, . . a long, shivering sigh,--and smiled, . . what a
strange, wistful, dying smile it was! ... but she made no answer.
"Niphrata!"--continued the Laureate, passionately pressing the little,
cold fingers that lay so passively in his grasp.. "Look at me! ... I
have come to save thee! ... to take thee home again, . . home to thy
flowers, thy birds, thy harp, . . thy pretty chamber with its curtained
nook, where thy friend Zoralin waits and weeps all day for thee! ... O
ye gods!--how weak am I!".. and he fiercely dashed away the drops that
glistened on his black silky lashes, . . "Come with me, sweet one! ..."
he resumed tenderly--"Come!--Why art thou thus silent? ... thou whose
voice hath many a time outrivalled the music of the nightingales! Hast
thou no word for me, thy lord?--Come!".. and Theos, struggling to
repress his own rising tears, heard his friend's accents sink into a
still lower, more caressing cadence ... "Thou shalt never again have
cause for grief, my Niphrata, never! ... We will never part! ...
Listen! ... am I not he whom thou lovest?"
The poor child's set mouth trembled,--her beautiful sad eyes gazed at
him uncomprehendingly.
"He whom I love is not here!".. she said in tired, soft tones; "I left
him, but he followed me; and now, he waits for me...yonder!".. And she
turned resolutely toward the Sanctuary, as though compelled to do so by
some powerful mesmeric attraction, . . "See you not how fair he
is!"...and she pointed with her disengaged hand to the formidable
python, through whose huge coils ran the tremors of impatient and eager
breathing, . . "How tenderly his eyes behold me! ... those eyes that I
have worshipped so patiently, so faithfully, and yet that never
lightened into love for me till now! O thou more than beloved!--How
beautiful thou art, my adored one, my heart's idol!" and a look of pale
exaltation lightened her features, as she fixed her wistful gaze, like
a fascinated bird, on the shadowy recess whence the Serpent had
emerged--"There,--there thou dost rest on a couch of fadeless
roses!--how softly the moonlight enfolds thee with a radiance as of
outspread wings!--I hear thy voice charming the silence! ... thou dost
call me by my name, . . O once poor name made rich by thy sweet
utterance! Yes, my beloved, I am ready! ... I come! I shall die in thy
embraces, . . nay, I shall not die but sleep! ... and dream a dream of
love that shall last forever and ever! No more sorrow ... no more
tears, . . no more heartsick longings ..."
Here she stopped in her incoherent speech, and strove to release her
hand from Sah-luma's, her blue eyes filling with infinite anxiety and
distress.
"I pray thee, good stranger," she entreated with touching
mildness,--"whosoever thou art, delay me not, but let me go! ... I am
but a poor love-sorrowful maid on whom Love hath at last taken
pity!--be gentle therefore, and hinder me not on my way to Sah-luma. I
have waited for happiness so long! ... so long!"
Her young, plaintive voice quavered into a half sob,--and again she
endeavored to break away from the Laureate's hold. But he, overcome by
the excess of his own grief and agitation, seized her other hand, and
drew her close up to him.
"Niphrata, Niphrata!" he cried despairingly. "What evil hath befallen
thee? Where is thy sight.. thy memory? ... LOOK! ... Look straight in
these eyes of mine, and read there my truth and tenderness! ... _I_ am
Sah-luma, thine own Sah-luma! ... thy poet, thy lover, thy master, thy
slave, . . all that thou wouldst have me be, I am! Whither wouldst thou
wander in search of me? Thou hast no further to go, dear heart, than
these arms, . . thou art safe with me, my singing bird, . . come! ..Let
me lead thee hence, and home!"
She watched him while he spoke, with a strange expression of distrust
and uneasiness. Then, by a violent effort, she wrenched her hands from
his clasp, and stood aloof, waving him back with an eloquent gesture of
amazed reproach.
"Away!" she said, in firm accents of sweet severity,--"Thou art a demon
that dost seek to tempt my soul to ruin! THOU Sah-luma!".. and she
lifted her lily-crowned head with a movement of proud rejection.. "Nay!
... thou mayst wear his look, his smile, . . thou mayst even borrow the
clear heaven-lustre of his eyes,--but I tell thee thou art fiend, not
angel, and I will not follow thee into the tangled ways of sin! Oh,
thou knowest not the meaning of true love, thou! ... There is treachery
on thy lips, and thy tongue is trained to utter honeyed falsehood!
Methinks thou hast wantonly broken many a faithful heart!--and made
light jest of many a betrayed virgin's sorrow! And thou darest to call
thyself MY Poet, . . MY Sah-luma, in whom there is no guile, and who
would die a thousand deaths rather than wound the frailest soul that
trusted him! ... Depart from me, thou hypocrite in Poet's guise! ...
thou cruel phantom of my love! ... Back to that darkness where thou
dost belong, and trouble not my peace!"
Sah-luma recoiled from her, amazed and stupefied. Theos clenched his
hands together in a sort of physical effort to keep down the storm of
emotions working within him,--for Niphrata's words burnt into his brain
like fire, ..too well, too well he understood their full intensity of
meaning! She loved the IDEAL Sah-luma, . . the Sah-luma of her own pure
fancies and desires, . . NOT the REAL man as he was, with all his
haughty egotism, vainglory, and vice,--vice in which he took more pride
than shame. Perhaps she had never known him in his actual
character,--she, like other women of her lofty and ardent type, had no
doubt set up the hero of her life as a god in the shrine of her own
holy and enthusiastic imagination, and had there endowed him with
resplendent virtues, which he had never once deemed it worth his while
to practise. Oh the loving hearts of women!--How much men have to
answer for, when they voluntarily break these clear mirrors of
affection, wherein they, all unworthy, have been for a time reflected
angel-wise, with all the warmth and color of an innocently adoring
passion shining about them like the prismatic rays in a vase of
polished crystal! To Niphrata, Sah-luma remained as a sort of splendid
divinity, for whom no devotion was too vast, too high, or too complete,
. . better, oh surely far better that she should die in her beautiful
self-deception, than live to see her elected idol descend to his true
level, and openly display all the weaknesses of his volatile, flippant,
godless, sensual, yet, alas! most fascinating and genius-gifted nature,
. . a nature, which, overflowing as it was with potentialities of noble
deeds, yet lacked sufficient intrinsic faith and force to accomplish
them! This thought stung Theos like a sharp arrow-prick, and filled him
with a strange, indescribable penitence; and he stood in dumb misery,
remorsefully eyeing his friend's consternation, disappointment, and
pained bewilderment, without being able to offer him the slightest
consolation.
Sah-luma was indeed the very picture of dismay, . . if he had never
suffered in his life before, surely he suffered now! Niphrata, the
tender, the humbly adoring Niphrata, positively rejected him!--refused
to recognize his actual presence, and turned insanely away from him
toward some dream-ideal Sah-luma whom she fancied could only be found
in that unexplored country bordered by the cold river of Death!
Meanwhile, the silence in the Temple was intense,--the Priests were
like so many wax figures fastened in fixed positions; the King, leaning
slightly forward in his chair, had the appearance of a massively
moulded image of bronze,--and to Theos's overwrought condition of mind,
the only actually living things present seemed to be the monster
Serpent whose scaly folds palpitated visibly in the strong light, . .
and the hideous "Eye of Raphon," that blazed on Lysia's breast with a
menacing stare, as of a wrathful ghoul. All at once a flash of
comprehension lightened the Laureate's sternly perplexed face,--a
bitter laugh broke from his lips.
"She has been drugged!" he cried fiercely, pointing to Niphrata's white
and rigid form, . . "Poisoned by some deadly potion devised of devils,
to twist and torture the quivering centres of the brain! Accursed
work!--Will none undo it?" and springing forward nearer the Shrine, he
raised his angry, impassioned eyes to the dark, inscrutable ones of the
High Priestess, who met his troubled look with serene and irresponsive
gravity ... "Is there no touch of human pity in things divine? ... no
mercy in the icy fate that rules our destinies? ... This child knows
naught of what she does; she hath been led astray in a moment of
excitement and religious exaltation, . . her mind hath lost its
balance,--her thoughts float disconnectedly on a sea of vague
illusions, ... Ah! ... by the gods! ... I understand it all now!" and
he suddenly threw himself on his knees, his appealing gaze resting, not
on the Snake-Deity, but on the lovely countenance of Lysia, fair and
brilliant as a summer morn, with a certain waving light of triumph
about it, like the reflected radiance of sunbeams, ... "She is under
the influence of Raphon! ... O withering madness! ... O cureless
misery.. She is ruled by that most horrible secret force, unknown as
yet to the outer world of men! ... and she hears things that are not,
and sees what has no existence! O Lysia, Daughter of the Sun! ... I do
beseech thee, by all the inborn gentleness of womanhood, unwind the
Mystic Spell!"
A serious smile of feigned, sorrowful compassion parted the beautiful
lips of the Priestess; but she gave no word or sign in answer,--and the
weird Jewel on her breast at that moment shot forth a myriad
scintillations as of pointed sharp steel. Some extraordinary power in
it, or in Lysia herself, was manifestly at work,--for with a violent
start Sah-luma rose from his knees, and staggered helplessly backward,
. . one hand pressed to his eyes as though to shut out some blinding
blaze of lightning! He seemed to be vaguely groping his way to his
former place beside the King, and Theos, seeing this, quickly caught
him by the arm and drew him thither, whispering anxiously the while:
"Sah-luma!-Sah-luma! ... What ails thee?"
The Laureate turned upon him a bewildered, piteous face, white with an
intensity of speechless anguish.
"Nothing!"...he faltered,--"Nothing! ... 'tis over, . . the child must
die!"...Then all suddenly the hard, drawn lines of his countenance
relaxed,--great tears gathered in his eyes, and fell slowly one by one,
. . and moving aside, he shrank away as far as possible into the shadow
cast by a huge column close by.. "O Niphrata! ... Niphrata!".. Theos
heard him say in a voice broken by despair.. "Why do I love thee only
now, . . NOW, when thou art lost to me forever!"
The King looked after him half-compassionately, half-sullenly; but
presently paid no further heed to his distress. Theos, however, kept
near him, whispering whatever poor suggestions of comfort he could, in
the extremity of his own grief, devise, . . a hopeless task,--for to
all his offered solace Sah-luma made but the one reply:
"Oh let me weep! ... Let me weep for the untimely death of Innocence!"
And now the cithern-playing, which had ceased, commenced again,
accompanied by the mysterious thrilling bass notes of the invisible
organ-like instrument, whose sound resembled the roll and rush of huge
billows breaking into foam. As the rich and solemn strains swept
grandly through the spacious Temple, Niphrata stretched out her hands
toward the High Priestess, a smile of wonderful beauty lighting up her
fair child-face.
"Take me, O ye immortal gods!" she cried, her voice ringing in clear
tune above all the other music.. "Take me and bear me away on your
strong, swift wings to the Everlasting Palaces of Air, wherein all
sorrows have end, and patient love meets at last its long-delayed
reward! Take me.. for lo! I am ready to depart! My soul is wounded and
weary of its prison,--it struggles to be free! O Destiny, I thank thee
for thy mercy! ... I praise thee for the glory thou dost here unveil
before mine eyes! Pardon my sins! ... accept my life! ... sanctify my
love!"
A murmur of relief and rejoicing ran rippling through the listening
crowds,--a weight seemed lifted from their minds, . . the victim was
willing to die after all! ... the Sacrifice would be proceeded with.
There was a slight pause,--during which the priests crossed and
re-crossed the Sanctuary many times, one of them descending the steps
to tie Niphrata's hands behind her back as before. In the immediate
interest of the moment, Sah-luma and his hot interference seemed to be
almost forgotten, . . a few people, indeed, cast injured and indignant
looks toward the corner where he dejectedly leaned, and once the
wrinkled, malicious head of old Zabastes peered at him, with an
expression of incredulous amazement,--but otherwise no sympathy was
manifested by any one for the popular Laureate's suffering and
discomfiture. He was the nation's puppet, . . its tame bird, whose
business was to sing when bidden, . . but he was not expected to have
any voice in matters of religion or policy,--and still less was he
supposed to intrude any of his own personal griefs on the public
notice. Let him sing!--and sing well,--that was enough; but let him
dare to be afflicted, and annoy others with his wants and troubles, why
then he at once became uninteresting! ... he might even die for all
anybody cared! This was the unspoken sullen thought that Theos,
sensitive to the core on his friend's behalf, instinctively felt to be
smouldering in the heart of the mighty multitude,--and he resented the
half-implied, latent ungratefulness of the people with all his soul.
"Fools!".. he muttered under his breath,--"For you, and such as you,
the wisest sages toil in vain! ... on you Art wastes her treasures of
suggestive loveliness! ... low grovellers in earth, ye have no eyes for
heaven! O ignorant, ungenerous, fickle hypocrites, whose ruling passion
is the greed of gold!--Why should great men perish, that YE may live!
... And yet.. your acclamations make up the thing called Fame! Fame?
... Good God!--'tis a brief shout in the universal clamor, scarce heard
and soon forgotten!"
And filled with strange bitterness, he gazed disconsolately at
Niphrata, who stood like one in a trance of ecstasy, patiently awaiting
her doom, her lovely, innocent blue eyes gladly upturned to the long,
jewel-like head of Nagaya, which twined round the summit of the ebony
staff, seemed to peer down at her in a sort of drowsy reflectiveness.
Then, all suddenly, Lysia spoke, . . how enchanting was the exquisite
modulation of that slow, languid, silvery voice!
"Come hither, O Maiden fair, pure, and faithful!
The desire of thy soul is granted!
Before thee are the Gates of the Unknown World!
Already they open to admit thee;
Through their golden bars gleams the glory of thy future!
Speak! ... What seest thou?"
A moment of breathless silence ensued,--all present seemed to be
straining their ears to catch the victim's answer. It came,--soft and
clear as a bell:
"I see a wondrous land o'er-canopied with skies of gold and azure: . .
white flowers grow in the fragrant fields, . . there are many trees, .
. I hear the warbling of many birds; . . I see fair faces that smile
upon me and gentle hands that beckon! ... Figures that wear glistening
robes, and carry garlands of roses and myrtle, pass slowly, singing as
they go! ... How beautiful they are! How strange! ... how sweet!"
And as she uttered these words, in accents of dreamy delight, she
ascended the first step of the Shrine. Theos, looking, held his breath
in wonder and fear, while Sah-luma with a groan turned himself
resolutely away, and, pressing his forehead against the great column
where he stood, hid his eyes in his clasped hands.
The High Priestess continued:
"Come hither, O Maiden of chaste and patient life!
Rejoice greatly, for thy virtue hath pleased the gods:
The undiscovered marvels of the Stars are thine,
Earth has no more control over thee:
Heaven is thine absolute Heritage! ...
Behold! the Ship of the Sun awaits thee!
Speak! ... What seest thou?"
A soft cry of rapture came from the girl's lips.
"Oh, I see glory everywhere!".. she exclaimed.. "Light everywhere! ...
Peace everywhere! ... O joy, joy! ... The face of my beloved shines
upon me,--he calls, . . he bids me come to him! ... Ah! we shall be
together at last, . . we twain shall be as one never to part, never to
doubt, never to suffer more! O let me hasten to him! ... Why should I
linger thus, when I would fain, be gone!"
And she sprang eagerly up the second and third steps of the Sanctuary,
and faced Lysia,--her head thrown back, her blue eyes ablaze with
excitement, her bosom heaving, and her delicate features transfigured
and illumined by unspeakable inward delirious bliss. Just then the
Priest Zel lifted the long, jewel-hilted knife from the black cushion
where it had lain till now, and, crouching stealthily in the shadow
behind Lysia, held it in both bands, pointed straight forward in a
level line with Niphrata's breast. Thus armed, he waited, silent and
immovable.
A slight shudder of morbid expectancy seemed to quiver through the vast
congregation, . . but Theos's nerves were strung up to such a high
pitch of frenzied horror that he could neither speak nor
sigh,--motionless as a statue, he could only watch, with freezing
blood, each detail of the extraordinary scene. Once more the High
Priestess spoke:
"Come hither, O happy Maiden whose griefs are ended:
The day of thy triumph and reward has dawned!
For thee the Immortals unveiled the mysteries of being,--
To thee, they openly declare all secrets ...
To thee the hidden things of Wisdom are made manifest:
For the last time ere thou leavest us, hear, and answer, . .
Speak!--What seest thou?"
"LOVE!" replied Niphrata in a tone of thrilling and solemn tenderness..
"LOVE, the Eternal All, in which dark things are made light!--Love,
that is never served in vain! ... LOVE wherein lost happiness is
rediscovered and perfected! ... O DIVINE LOVE, by whom the passion of
my heart is sanctified! Absorb me in the quenchless glory of thine
Immortality! ... Draw me to Thyself, and let me find in Thee my Soul's
completion!"
Her voice sank to a low prayerful emphasis, . . her look was as of a
rapt angel waiting for wings. Lysia's gaze dwelt upon her with
slow-dilating wonder and contempt.. such a devout and earnest
supplication was evidently not commonly heard from the lips of Nagaya's
victims. At that instant, too, Nagaya himself seemed curiously excited
and disturbed,--his great glittering coils quivered so violently, as to
shake the rod on which he was twined, . . and when his Priestess raised
her mesmeric reproving eyes toward him, he bent back his head
rebelliously, and sent a vehement hiss through the silence, like the
noise made by the whirl of a scimitar.
Suddenly, and with deafening abruptness, a clap of thunder, short and
sharp as a quick volley of musketry, crashed overhead,--accompanied by
a strange circular sweep of lightning that blazed through the windows
of the Temple, illumining it from end to end with a brilliant blue
glare. The superstitious crowd exchanged startled looks of terror, . .
the King moved uneasily and glanced frowningly about him,--it was
plainly manifest that no one had forgotten the disastrous downfall of
the Obelisk, ..and there seemed to be a contagion of alarm in the very
air. But Lysia was perfectly self-possessed, . . in fact she appeared
to accept the threat of a storm as an imposing, and by no means
undesirable, adjunct to the mysteries of the Sacrificial Rite, for
riveting her basilisk eyes on Niphrata, she said in firm, clear,
decisive accents:
"The gods grow impatient! ... Wherefore, O Princess and People of
Al-Kyris, let us hasten to appease their anger! Depart, O stainless
Maid! ... depart hence, and betake thee to the Golden Throne of the
Sun, our Lord and Ruler, . . and in the Name of Nagaya, may the
shedding of thy virginal blood avert from us and ours the wrath of the
Immortals! Linger no longer, . . Nagaya accepts thee! ... and the Hour
strikes Death!"
With the last word a sullen bell boomed heavily through and through the
Temple.. and, at once, . . like a frenzied bird or butterfly winging
its way into scorching flame, . . Niphrata rushed forward with swift,
unhesitating, dreadful precision straight on the knife outheld by the
untrembling ruthless hands of the Priest Zel! One second,--and Theos
sick with horror, saw her speeding thus, . . the next,--and the whole
place was enveloped in dense darkness!