TIME AND THE GODS
Once when the gods were young and only Their swarthy servant Time was
without age, the gods lay sleeping by a broad river upon earth. There
in a valley that from all the earth the gods had set apart for Their
repose the gods dreamed marble dreams. And with domes and pinnacles the
dreams arose and stood up proudly between the river and the sky, all
shimmering white to the morning. In the city’s midst the gleaming
marble of a thousand steps climbed to the citadel where arose four
pinnacles beckoning to heaven, and midmost between the pinnacles there
stood the dome, vast, as the gods had dreamed it. All around, terrace
by terrace, there went marble lawns well guarded by onyx lions and
carved with effigies of all the gods striding amid the symbols of the
worlds. With a sound like tinkling bells, far off in a land of
shepherds hidden by some hill, the waters of many fountains turned
again home. Then the gods awoke and there stood Sardathrion. Not to
common men have the gods given to walk Sardathrion’s streets, and not
to common eyes to see her fountains. Only to those to whom in lonely
passes in the night the gods have spoken, leaning through the stars, to
those that have heard the voices of the gods above the morning or seen
Their faces bending above the sea, only to those hath it been given to
see Sardathrion, to stand where her pinnacles gathered together in the
night fresh from the dreams of gods. For round the valley a great
desert lies through which no common traveller may come, but those whom
the gods have chosen feel suddenly a great longing at heart, and
crossing the mountains that divide the desert from the world, set out
across it driven by the gods, till hidden in the desert’s midst they
find the valley at last and look with eyes upon Sardathrion.
In the desert beyond the valley grow a myriad thorns, and all pointing
towards Sardathrion. So may many that the gods have loved come to the
marble city, but none can return, for other cities are no fitting home
for men whose feet have touched Sardathrion’s marble streets, where
even the gods have not been ashamed to come in the guise of men with
Their cloaks wrapped about their faces. Therefore no city shall ever
hear the songs that are sung in the marble citadel by those in whose
ears have rung the voices of the gods. No report shall ever come to
other lands of the music of the fall of Sardathrion’s fountains, when
the waters which went heavenward return again into the lake where the
gods cool Their brows sometimes in the guise of men. None may ever hear
the speech of the poets of that city, to whom the gods have spoken.
It stands a city aloof. There hath been no rumour of it—I alone have
dreamed of it, and I may not be sure that my dreams are true.
Above the Twilight the gods were seated in the after years, ruling the
worlds. No longer now They walked at evening in the Marble City hearing
the fountains splash, or listening to the singing of the men they
loved, because it was in the after years and the work of the gods was
to be done.
But often as they rested a moment from doing the work of the gods, from
hearing the prayers of men or sending here the Pestilence or there
Mercy, They would speak awhile with one another of the olden years
saying, “Rememberest thou not Sardathrion?” and another would answer
“Ah! Sardathrion, and all Sardathrion’s mist-draped marble lawns
whereon we walk not now.”
Then the gods turned to do the work of the gods, answering the prayers
of men or smiting them, and ever They sent Their swarthy servant Time
to heal or overwhelm. And Time went forth into the worlds to obey the
commands of the gods, yet he cast furtive glances at his masters, and
the gods distrusted Time because he had known the worlds or ever the
gods became.
One day when furtive Time had gone into the worlds to nimbly smite some
city whereof the gods were weary, the gods above the twilight speaking
to one another said:
“Surely we are the lords of Time and gods of the worlds besides. See
how our city Sardathrion lifts over other cities. Others arise and
perish but Sardathrion standeth yet, the first and the last of cities.
Rivers are lost in the sea and streams forsake the hills, but ever
Sardathrion’s fountains arise in our dream city. As was Sardathrion
when the gods were young, so are her streets to-day as a sign that we
are the gods.”
Suddenly the swart figure of Time stood up before the gods, with both
hands dripping with blood and a red sword dangling idly from his
fingers, and said:
“Sardathrion is gone! I have overthrown it!”
And the gods said:
“Sardathrion? Sardathrion, the marble city? Thou, thou hast overthrown
it? Thou, the slave of the gods?”
And the oldest of the gods said:
“Sardathrion, Sardathrion, and is Sardathrion gone?”
And furtively Time looked him in the face and edged towards him
fingering with his dripping fingers the hilt of his nimble sword.
Then the gods feared with a new fear that he that had overthrown Their
city would one day slay the gods. And a new cry went wailing through
the Twilight, the lament of the gods for Their dream city, crying:
“Tears may not bring again Sardathrion.
“But this the gods may do who have seen, and seen with unrelenting
eyes, the sorrows of ten thousand worlds—thy gods may weep for thee.
“Tears may not bring again Sardathrion.
“Believe it not, Sardathrion, that ever thy gods sent this doom to
thee; he that hath overthrown thee shall overthrow thy gods.
“How oft when Night came suddenly on Morning playing in the fields of
Twilight did we watch thy pinnacles emerging from the darkness,
Sardathrion, Sardathrion, dream city of the gods, and thine onyx lions
looming limb by limb from the dusk.
“How often have we sent our child the Dawn to play with thy fountain
tops; how often hath Evening, loveliest of our goddesses, strayed long
upon thy balconies.
“Let one fragment of thy marbles stand up above the dust for thine old
gods to caress, as a man when all else is lost treasures one lock of
the hair of his beloved.
“Sardathrion, the gods must kiss once more the place where thy streets
were once.
“There were wonderful marbles in thy streets, Sardathrion.”
“Sardathrion, Sardathrion, the gods weep for thee.”
THE COMING OF THE SEA
Once there was no sea, and the gods went walking over the green plains
of earth.
Upon an evening of the forgotten years the gods were seated on the
hills, and all the little rivers of the world lay coiled at Their feet
asleep, when Slid, the new god, striding through the stars, came
suddenly upon earth lying in a corner of space. And behind Slid there
marched a million waves, all following Slid and tramping up the
twilight; and Slid touched Earth in one of her great green valleys that
divide the south, and here he encamped for the night with all his waves
about him. But to the gods as They sat upon Their hilltops a new cry
came crying over the green spaces that lay below the hills, and the
gods said:
“This is neither the cry of life nor yet the whisper of death. What is
this new cry that the gods have never commanded, yet which comes to the
ears of the gods?”
And the gods together shouting made the cry of the south, calling the
south wind to them. And again the gods shouted all together making the
cry of the north, calling the north wind to Them; and thus They
gathered to Them all Their winds and sent these four down into the low
plains to find what thing it was that called with the new cry, and to
drive it away from the gods.
Then all the winds harnessed up their clouds and drave forth till they
came to the great green valley that divides the south in twain, and
there found Slid with all his waves about him. Then for a space Slid
and the four winds struggled with one another till the strength of the
winds was gone, and they limped back to the gods, their masters, and
said:
“We have met this new thing that has come upon the earth and have
striven against its armies, but could not drive them forth; and the new
thing is beautiful but very angry, and is creeping towards the gods.”
But Slid advanced and led his armies up the valley, and inch by inch
and mile by mile he conquered the lands of the gods. Then from Their
hills the gods sent down a great array of cliffs of hard, red rocks,
and bade them march against Slid. And the cliffs marched down till they
came and stood before Slid and leaned their heads forward and frowned
and stood staunch to guard the lands of the gods against the might of
the sea, shutting Slid off from the world. Then Slid sent some of his
smaller waves to search out what stood against him, and the cliffs
shattered them. But Slid went back and gathered together a hoard of his
greatest waves and hurled them against the cliffs, and the cliffs
shattered them. And again Slid called up out of his deep a mighty array
of waves and sent them roaring against the guardians of the gods, and
the red rocks frowned and smote them. And once again Slid gathered his
greater waves and hurled them against the cliffs; and when the waves
were scattered like those before them the feet of the cliffs were no
longer standing firm, and their faces were scarred and battered. Then
into every cleft that stood in the rocks Slid sent his hugest wave and
others followed behind it, and Slid himself seized hold of huge rocks
with his claws and tore them down and stamped them under his feet. And
when the tumult was over the sea had won, and over the broken remnants
of those red cliffs the armies of Slid marched on and up the long green
valley.
Then the gods heard Slid exulting far away and singing songs of triumph
over Their battered cliffs, and ever the tramp of his armies sounded
nearer and nearer in the listening ears of the gods.
Then the gods called to Their downlands to save Their world from Slid,
and the downlands gathered themselves and marched away, a great white
line of gleaming cliffs, and halted before Slid. Then Slid advanced no
more and lulled his legions, and while his waves were low he softly
crooned a song such as once long ago had troubled the stars and brought
down tears out of the twilight.
Sternly the white cliffs stood on guard to save the world of the gods,
but the song that once had troubled the stars went moaning on awaking
pent desires, till full at the feet of the gods the melody fell. Then
the blue rivers that lay curled asleep opened their gleaming eyes,
uncurled themselves and shook their rushes, and, making a stir among
the hills, crept down to find the sea. And passing across the world
they came at last to where the white cliffs stood, and, coming behind
them, split them here and there and went through their broken ranks to
Slid at last. And the gods were angry with Their traitorous streams.
Then Slid ceased from singing the song that lures the world, and
gathered up his legions, and the rivers lifted up their heads with the
waves, and all went marching on to assail the cliffs of the gods. And
wherever the rivers had broken the ranks of the cliffs, Slid’s armies
went surging in and broke them up into islands and shattered the
islands away. And the gods on Their hill-tops heard once more the voice
of Slid exulting over Their cliffs.
Already more than half the world lay subject to Slid, and still his
armies advanced; and the people of Slid, the fishes and the long eels,
went in and out of arbours that once were dear to the gods. Then the
gods feared for Their dominion, and to the innermost sacred recesses of
the mountains, to the very heart of the hills, the gods trooped off
together and there found Tintaggon, a mountain of black marble, staring
far over the earth, and spake thus to him with the voices of the gods:
“O eldest born of our mountains, when first we devised the earth we
made thee, and thereafter fashioned fields and hollows, valleys and
other hills, to lie about thy feet. And now, Tintaggon, thine ancient
lords, the gods, are facing a new thing which overthrows the old. Go
therefore, thou, Tintaggon, and stand up against Slid, that the gods be
still the gods and the earth still green.”
And hearing the voices of his sires, the elder gods, Tintaggon strode
down through the evening, leaving a wake of twilight broad behind him
as he strode: and going across the green earth came down to Ambrady at
the valley’s edge, and there met the foremost of Slid’s fierce armies
conquering the world.
And against him Slid hurled the force of a whole bay, which lashed
itself high over Tintaggon’s knees and streamed around his flanks and
then fell and was lost. Tintaggon still stood firm for the honour and
dominion of his lords, the elder gods. Then Slid went to Tintaggon and
said: “Let us now make a truce. Stand thou back from Ambrady and let me
pass through thy ranks that mine armies may now pass up the valley
which opens on the world, that the green earth that dreams around the
feet of older gods shall know the new god Slid. Then shall mine armies
strive with thee no more, and thou and I shall be the equal lords of
the whole earth when all the world is singing the chaunt of Slid, and
thy head alone shall be lifted above mine armies when rival hills are
dead. And I will deck thee with all the robes of the sea, and all the
plunder that I have taken in rare cities shall be piled before thy
feet. Tintaggon, I have conquered all the stars, my song swells through
all the space besides, I come victorious from Mahn and Khanagat on the
furthest edge of the worlds, and thou and I are to be equal lords when
the old gods are gone and the green earth knoweth Slid. Behold me
gleaming azure and fair with a thousand smiles, and swayed by a
thousand moods.” And Tintaggon answered: “I am staunch and black and
have one mood, and this—to defend my masters and their green earth.”
Then Slid went backward growling and summoned together the waves of a
whole sea and sent them singing full in Tintaggon’s face. Then from
Tintaggon’s marble front the sea fell backwards crying on to a broken
shore, and ripple by ripple straggled back to Slid saying: “Tintaggon
stands.”
Far out beyond the battered shore that lay at Tintaggon’s feet Slid
rested long and sent the nautilus to drift up and down before
Tintaggon’s eyes, and he and his armies sat singing idle songs of
dreamy islands far away to the south, and of the still stars whence
they had stolen forth, of twilight evenings and of long ago. Still
Tintaggon stood with his feet planted fair upon the valley’s edge
defending the gods and Their green earth against the sea.
And all the while that Slid sang his songs and played with the nautilus
that sailed up and down he gathered his oceans together. One morning as
Slid sang of old outrageous wars and of most enchanting peace and of
dreamy islands and the south wind and the sun, he suddenly launched
five oceans out of the deep all to attack Tintaggon. And the five
oceans sprang upon Tintaggon and passed above his head. One by one the
grip of the oceans loosened, one by one they fell back into the deep
and still Tintaggon stood, and on that morning the might of all five
oceans lay dead at Tintaggon’s feet. That which Slid had conquered he
still held, and there is now no longer a great green valley in the
south, but all that Tintaggon had guarded against Slid he gave back to
the gods. Very calm the sea lies now about Tintaggon’s feet, where he
stands all black amid crumbled cliffs of white, with red rocks piled
about his feet. And often the sea retreats far out along the shore, and
often wave by wave comes marching in with the sound of the tramping of
armies, that all may still remember the great fight that surged about
Tintaggon once, when he guarded the gods and the green earth against
Slid.
Sometimes in their dreams the war-scarred warriors of Slid still lift
their heads and cry their battle cry; then do dark clouds gather about
Tintaggon’s swarthy brow and he stands out menacing, seen afar by
ships, where once he conquered Slid. And the gods know well that while
Tintaggon stands They and Their world are safe; and whether Slid shall
one day smite Tintaggon is hidden among the secrets of the sea.
A LEGEND OF THE DAWN
When the worlds and All began the gods were stern and old and They saw
the Beginning from under eyebrows hoar with years, all but Inzana,
Their child, who played with the golden ball. Inzana was the child of
all the gods. And the law before the Beginning and thereafter was that
all should obey the gods, yet hither and thither went all Pegāna’s gods
to obey the Dawnchild because she loved to be obeyed.
It was dark all over the world and even in Pegāna, where dwell the
gods, it was dark when the child Inzana, the Dawn, first found her
golden ball. Then running down the stairway of the gods with tripping
feet, chalcedony, onyx, chalcedony, onyx, step by step, she cast her
golden ball across the sky. The golden ball went bounding up the sky,
and the Dawnchild with her flaring hair stood laughing upon the
stairway of the gods, and it was day. So gleaming fields below saw the
first of all the days that the gods have destined. But towards evening
certain mountains, afar and aloof, conspired together to stand between
the world and the golden ball and to wrap their crags about it and to
shut it from the world, and all the world was darkened with their plot.
And the Dawnchild up in Pegāna cried for her golden ball. Then all the
gods came down the stairway right to Pegāna’s gate to see what ailed
the Dawnchild and to ask her why she cried. Then Inzana said that her
golden ball had been taken away and hidden by mountains black and ugly,
far away from Pegāna, all in a world of rocks under the rim of the sky,
and she wanted her golden ball and could not love the dark.
Thereat Umborodom, whose hound was the thunder, took his hound in
leash, and strode away across the sky after the golden ball until he
came to the mountains afar and aloof. There did the thunder put his
nose to the rocks and bay along the valleys, and fast at his heels
followed Umborodom. And the nearer the hound, the thunder, came to the
golden ball the louder did he bay, but haughty and silent stood the
mountains whose plot had darkened the world. All in the dark among the
crags in a mighty cavern, guarded by two twin peaks, at last they found
the golden ball for which the Dawnchild wept. Then under the world went
Umborodom with his thunder panting behind him, and came in the dark
before the morning from underneath the world and gave the Dawnchild
back her golden ball. And Inzana laughed and took it in her hands, and
Umborodom went back into Pegāna, and at its threshold the thunder went
to sleep.
Again the Dawnchild tossed the golden ball far up into the blue across
the sky, and the second morning shone upon the world, on lakes and
oceans, and on drops of dew. But as the ball went bounding on its way,
the prowling mists and the rain conspired together and took it and
wrapped it in their tattered cloaks and carried it away. And through
the rents in their garments gleamed the golden ball, but they held it
fast and carried it right away and underneath the world. Then on an
onyx step Inzana sat down and wept, who could no more be happy without
her golden ball. And again the gods were sorry, and the South Wind came
to tell her tales of most enchanted islands, to whom she listened not,
nor yet to the tales of temples in lone lands that the East Wind told
her, who had stood beside her when she flung her golden ball. But from
far away the West Wind came with news of three grey travellers wrapt
round with battered cloaks that carried away between them a golden
ball.
Then up leapt the North Wind, he who guards the pole, and drew his
sword of ice out of his scabbard of snow and sped away along the road
that leads across the blue. And in the darkness underneath the world he
met the three grey travellers and rushed upon them and drove them far
before him, smiting them with his sword till their grey cloaks streamed
with blood. And out of the midst of them, as they fled with flapping
cloaks all red and grey and tattered, he leapt up with the golden ball
and gave it to the Dawnchild.
Again Inzana tossed the ball into the sky, making the third day, and up
and up it went and fell towards the fields, and as Inzana stooped to
pick it up she suddenly heard the singing of all the birds that were.
All the birds in the world were singing all together and also all the
streams, and Inzana sat and listened and thought of no golden ball, nor
ever of chalcedony and onyx, nor of all her fathers the gods, but only
of all the birds. Then in the woods and meadows where they had all
suddenly sung, they suddenly ceased. And Inzana, looking up, found that
her ball was lost, and all alone in the stillness one owl laughed. When
the gods heard Inzana crying for her ball They clustered together on
the threshold and peered into the dark, but saw no golden ball. And
leaning forward They cried out to the bat as he passed up and down:
“Bat that seest all things, where is the golden ball?”
And though the bat answered none heard. And none of the winds had seen
it nor any of the birds, and there were only the eyes of the gods in
the darkness peering for the golden ball. Then said the gods: “Thou
hast lost thy golden ball,” and They made her a moon of silver to roll
about the sky. And the child cried and threw it upon the stairway and
chipped and broke its edges and asked for the golden ball. And Limpang
Tung, the Lord of Music, who was least of all the gods, because the
child cried still for her golden ball, stole out of Pegāna and crept
across the sky, and found the birds of all the world sitting in trees
and ivy, and whispering in the dark. He asked them one by one for news
of the golden ball. Some had last seen it on a neighbouring hill and
others in trees, though none knew where it was. A heron had seen it
lying in a pond, but a wild duck in some reeds had seen it last as she
came home across the hills, and then it was rolling very far away.
At last the cock cried out that he had seen it lying beneath the world.
There Limpang Tung sought it and the cock called to him through the
darkness as he went, until at last he found the golden ball. Then
Limpang Tung went up into Pegāna and gave it to the Dawnchild, who
played with the moon no more. And the cock and all his tribe cried out:
“We found it. We found the golden ball.”
Again Inzana tossed the ball afar, laughing with joy to see it, her
hands stretched upwards, her golden hair afloat, and carefully she
watched it as it fell. But alas! it fell with a splash into the great
sea and gleamed and shimmered as it fell till the waters became dark
above it and could be seen no more. And men on the world said: “How the
dew has fallen, and how the mists set in with breezes from the
streams.”
But the dew was the tears of the Dawnchild, and the mists were her
sighs when she said: “There will no more come a time when I play with
my ball again, for now it is lost for ever.”
And the gods tried to comfort Inzana as she played with her silver
moon, but she would not hear Them, and went in tears to Slid, where he
played with gleaming sails, and in his mighty treasury turned over gems
and pearls and lorded it over the sea. And she said: “O Slid, whose
soul is in the sea, bring back my golden ball.”
And Slid stood up, swarthy, and clad in seaweed, and mightily dived
from the last chalcedony step out of Pegāna’s threshold straight into
ocean. There on the sand, among the battered navies of the nautilus and
broken weapons of the swordfish, hidden by dark water, he found the
golden ball. And coming up in the night, all green and dripping, he
carried it gleaming to the stairway of the gods and brought it back to
Inzana from the sea; and out of the hands of Slid she took it and
tossed it far and wide over his sails and sea, and far away it shone on
lands that knew not Slid, till it came to its zenith and dropped
towards the world.
But ere it fell the Eclipse dashed out from his hiding, and rushed at
the golden ball and seized it in his jaws. When Inzana saw the Eclipse
bearing her plaything away she cried aloud to the thunder, who burst
from Pegāna and fell howling upon the throat of the Eclipse, who
dropped the golden ball and let it fall towards earth. But the black
mountains disguised themselves with snow, and as the golden ball fell
down towards them they turned their peaks to ruby crimson and their
lakes to sapphires gleaming amongst silver, and Inzana saw a jewelled
casket into which her plaything fell. But when she stooped to pick it
up again she found no jewelled casket with rubies, silver or sapphires,
but only wicked mountains disguised in snow that had trapped her golden
ball. And then she cried because there was none to find it, for the
thunder was far away chasing the Eclipse, and all the gods lamented
when They saw her sorrow. And Limpang Tung, who was least of all the
gods, was yet the saddest at the Dawnchild’s grief, and when the gods
said: “Play with your silver moon,” he stepped lightly from the rest,
and coming down the stairway of the gods, playing an instrument of
music, went out towards the world to find the golden ball because
Inzana wept.
[Illustration: Inzāna calls up the Thunder ]
And into the world he went till he came to the nether cliffs that stand
by the inner mountains in the soul and heart of the earth where the
Earthquake dwelleth alone, asleep but astir as he sleeps, breathing and
moving his legs, and grunting aloud in the dark. Then in the ear of the
Earthquake Limpang Tung said a word that only the gods may say, and the
Earthquake started to his feet and flung the cave away, the cave
wherein he slept between the cliffs, and shook himself and went
galloping abroad and overturned the mountains that hid the golden ball,
and bit the earth beneath them and hurled their crags about and covered
himself with rocks and fallen hills, and went back ravening and
growling into the soul of the earth, and there lay down and slept again
for a hundred years. And the golden ball rolled free, passing under the
shattered earth, and so rolled back to Pegāna; and Limpang Tung came
home to the onyx step and took the Dawnchild by the hand and told not
what he had done but said it was the Earthquake, and went away to sit
at the feet of the gods. But Inzana went and patted the Earthquake on
the head, for she said it was dark and lonely in the soul of the earth.
Thereafter, returning step by step, chalcedony, onyx, chalcedony, onyx,
up the stairway of the gods, she cast again her golden ball from the
Threshold afar into the blue to gladden the world and the sky, and
laughed to see it go.
And far away Trogool upon the utter Rim turned a page that was numbered
six in a cipher that none might read. And as the golden ball went
through the sky to gleam on lands and cities, there came the Fog
towards it, stooping as he walked with his dark brown cloak about him,
and behind him slunk the Night. And as the golden ball rolled past the
Fog suddenly Night snarled and sprang upon it and carried it away.
Hastily Inzana gathered the gods and said: “The Night hath seized my
golden ball and no god alone can find it now, for none can say how far
the Night may roam, who prowls all round us and out beyond the worlds.”
At the entreaty of Their Dawnchild all the gods made Themselves stars
for torches, and far away through all the sky followed the tracks of
Night as far as he prowled abroad. And at one time Slid, with the
Pleiades in his hand, came nigh to the golden ball, and at another
Yoharneth-Lahai, holding Orion for a torch, but lastly Limpang Tung,
bearing the morning star, found the golden ball far away under the
world near to the lair of Night.
And all the gods together seized the ball, and Night turning smote out
the torches of the gods and thereafter slunk away; and all the gods in
triumph marched up the gleaming stairway of the gods, all praising
little Limpang Tung, who through the chase had followed Night so close
in search of the golden ball. Then far below on the world a human child
cried out to the Dawnchild for the golden ball, and Inzana ceased from
her play that illumined world and sky, and cast the ball from the
Threshold of the gods to the little human child that played in the
fields below, and would one day die. And the child played all day long
with the golden ball down in the little fields where the humans lived,
and went to bed at evening and put it beneath his pillow, and went to
sleep, and no one worked in all the world because the child was
playing. And the light of the golden ball streamed up from under the
pillow and out through the half shut door and shone in the western sky,
and Yoharneth-Lahai in the night time tip-toed into the room, and took
the ball gently (for he was a god) away from under the pillow and
brought it back to the Dawnchild to gleam on an onyx step.
But some day Night shall seize the golden ball and carry it right away
and drag it down to his lair, and Slid shall dive from the Threshold
into the sea to see if it be there, and coming up when the fishermen
draw their nets shall find it not, nor yet discover it among the sails.
Limpang Tung shall seek among the birds and shall not find it when the
cock is mute, and up the valleys shall go Umborodom to seek among the
crags. And the hound, the thunder, shall chase the Eclipse and all the
gods go seeking with Their stars, but never find the ball. And men, no
longer having light of the golden ball, shall pray to the gods no more,
who, having no worship, shall be no more the gods.
These things be hidden even from the gods.
THE VENGEANCE OF MEN
Ere the Beginning the gods divided earth into waste and pasture.
Pleasant pastures They made to be green over the face of earth,
orchards They made in valleys and heather upon hills, but Harza They
doomed, predestined and foreordained to be a waste for ever.
When the world prayed at evening to the gods and the gods answered
prayers They forgot the prayers of all the Tribes of Arim. Therefore
the men of Arim were assailed with wars and driven from land to land
and yet would not be crushed. And the men of Arim made them gods for
themselves, appointing men as gods until the gods of Pegāna should
remember them again. And their leaders, Yoth and Haneth, played the
part of gods and led their people on though every tribe assailed them.
At last they came to Harza, where no tribes were, and at last had rest
from war, and Yoth and Haneth said: “The work is done, and surely now
Pegāna’s gods will remember.” And they built a city in Harza and tilled
the soil, and the green came over the waste as the wind comes over the
sea, and there were fruit and cattle in Harza and the sounds of a
million sheep. There they rested from their flight from all the tribes,
and builded fables out of all their sorrows till all men smiled in
Harza and children laughed.
Then said the gods, “Earth is no place for laughter.” Thereat They
strode to Pegāna’s outer gate, to where the Pestilence lay curled
asleep, and waking him up They pointed toward Harza, and the Pestilence
leapt forward howling across the sky.
That night he came to the fields near Harza, and stalking through the
grass sat down and glared at the lights, and licked his paws and glared
at the lights again.
But the next night, unseen, through laughing crowds, the Pestilence
crept into the city, and stealing into the houses one by one, peered
into the people’s eyes, looking even through their eyelids, so that
when morning came men stared before them crying out that they saw the
Pestilence whom others saw not, and thereafter died, because the green
eyes of the Pestilence had looked into their souls. Chill and damp was
he, yet there came heat from his eyes that parched the souls of men.
Then came the physicians and the men learned in magic, and made the
sign of the physicians and the sign of the men of magic and cast blue
water upon herbs and chanted spells; but still the Pestilence crept
from house to house and still he looked into the souls of men. And the
lives of the people streamed away from Harza, and whither they went is
set in many books. But the Pestilence fed on the light that shines in
the eyes of men, which never appeased his hunger; chiller and damper he
grew, and the heat from his eyes increased when night by night he
galloped through the city, going by stealth no more.
Then did men pray in Harza to the gods, saying:
“High gods! Show clemency to Harza.”
And the gods listened to their prayers, but as They listened They
pointed with their fingers and cheered the Pestilence on. And the
Pestilence grew bolder at his masters’ voices and thrust his face close
up before the eyes of men.
He could be seen by none saving those he smote. At first he slept by
day, lying in misty hollows, but as his hunger increased he sprang up
even in sunlight and clung to the chests of men and looked down through
their eyes into their souls that shrivelled, until almost he could be
dimly seen even by those he smote not.
Adro, the physician, sat in his chamber with one light burning, making
a mixing in a bowl that should drive the Pestilence away, when through
his door there blew a draught that set the light a-flickering.
Then because the draught was cold the physician shivered and went and
closed the door, but as he turned again he saw the Pestilence lapping
at his mixing, who sprang and set one paw upon Adro’s shoulder and
another upon his cloak, while with two he clung to his waist, and
looked him in the eyes.
Two men were walking in the street; one said to the other: “Upon the
morrow I will sup with thee.”
And the Pestilence grinned a grin that none beheld, baring his dripping
teeth, and crept away to see whether upon the morrow those men should
sup together.
A traveller coming in said: “This is Harza. Here will I rest.”
But his life went further than Harza upon that day’s journey.
All feared the Pestilence, and those that he smote beheld him, but none
saw the great shapes of the gods by starlight as They urged Their
Pestilence on.
Then all men fled from Harza, and the Pestilence chased dogs and rats
and sprang upward at the bats as they sailed above him, who died and
lay in the streets. But soon he returned and pursued the men of Harza
where they fled, and sat by rivers where they came to drink, away below
the city. Then back to Harza went the people of Harza pursued by the
Pestilence still, and gathered in the Temple of All the gods save One,
and said to the High Prophet: “What may now be done?” who answered:
“All the gods have mocked at prayer. This sin must now be punished by
the vengeance of men.”
And the people stood in awe.
The High Prophet went up to the Tower beneath the sky whereupon beat
the eyes of all the gods by starlight. There in the sight of the gods
he spake in the ear of the gods, saying: “High gods! Ye have made mock
of men. Know therefore that it is writ in ancient lore and found by
prophecy that there is an _End_ that waiteth for the gods, who shall go
down from Pegāna in galleons of gold all down the Silent River and into
the Silent Sea, and there Their galleons shall go up in mist and They
shall be gods no more. And men shall gain harbour from the mocking of
the gods at last in the warm moist earth, but to the gods shall no
ceasing ever come from being the Things that were the gods. When Time
and worlds and death are gone away nought shall then remain but worn
regrets and Things that were once gods.
“In the sight of the gods.
“In the ear of the gods.”
Then the gods shouted all together and pointed with Their hands at the
High Prophet’s throat, and the Pestilence sprang.
Long since the High Prophet is dead and his words are forgotten by men,
but the gods know not yet whether it be true that _The End_ is waiting
for the gods, and him who might have told Them They have slain. And the
gods of Pegāna are fearing the fear that hath fallen upon the gods
because of the vengeance of men, for They know not when _The End_ shall
be, or whether it shall come.
WHEN THE GODS SLEPT
All the gods were sitting in Pegāna, and Their slave, Time, lay idle at
Pegāna’s gate with nothing to destroy, when They thought of worlds,
worlds large and round and gleaming, and little silver moons. Then (who
knoweth when?), as the gods raised Their hands making the sign of the
gods, the thoughts of the gods became worlds and silver moons. And the
worlds swam by Pegāna’s gate to take their places in the sky, to ride
at anchor for ever, each where the gods had bidden. And because they
were round and big and gleamed all over the sky, the gods laughed and
shouted and all clapped Their hands. Then upon earth the gods played
out the game of the gods, the game of life and death, and on the other
worlds They did a secret thing, playing a game that is hidden.
At last They mocked no more at life and laughed at death no more, and
cried aloud in Pegāna: “Will no new thing be? Must those four march for
ever round the world till our eyes are wearied with the treading of the
feet of the Seasons that will not cease, while Night and Day and Life
and Death drearily rise and fall?”
And as a child stares at the bare walls of a narrow hut, so the gods
looked all listlessly upon the worlds, saying:
“Will no new thing be?”
And in Their weariness the gods said: “Ah! to be young again. Ah! to be
fresh once more from the brain of _Mana-Yood-Sushai_.”
And They turned away Their eyes in weariness from all the gleaming
worlds and laid Them down upon Pegāna’s floor, for They said:
“It may be that the worlds shall pass and we would fain forget them.”
Then the gods slept. Then did the comet break loose from his moorings
and the eclipse roamed about the sky, and down on the earth did Death’s
three children—Famine, Pestilence, and Drought—come out to feed. The
eyes of the Famine were green, and the eyes of the Drought were red,
but the Pestilence was blind and smote about all round him with his
claws among the cities.
But as the gods slept, there came from beyond the Rim, out of the dark
and unknown, three Yozis, spirits of ill, that sailed up the river of
Silence in galleons with silver sails. Far away they had seen Yum and
Gothum, the stars that stand sentinel over Pegāna’s gate, blinking and
falling asleep, and as they neared Pegāna they found a hush wherein the
gods slept heavily. Ya, Ha, and Snyrg were these three Yozis, the lords
of evil, madness, and of spite. When they crept from their galleons and
stole over Pegāna’s silent threshold it boded ill for the gods. There
in Pegāna lay the gods asleep, and in a corner lay the Power of the
gods alone upon the floor, a thing wrought of black rock and four words
graven upon it, whereof I might not give thee any clue, if even I
should find it—four words of which none knoweth. Some say they tell of
the opening of a flower towards dawn, and others say they concern
earthquakes among hills, and others that they tell of the death of
fishes, and others that the words be these: Power, Knowledge,
Forgetting, and another word that not the gods themselves may ever
guess. These words the Yozis read, and sped away in dread lest the gods
should wake, and going aboard their galleons, bade the rowers haste.
Thus the Yozis became gods, having the power of gods, and they sailed
away to the earth, and came to a mountainous island in the sea. There
they sat upon the rocks, sitting as the gods sit, with their right
hands uplifted, and having the power of gods, only none came to
worship. Thither came no ships nigh them, nor ever at evening came the
prayers of men, nor smell of incense, nor screams from the sacrifice.
Then said the Yozis:
“Of what avails it that we be gods if no one worship us nor give us
sacrifice?”
And Ya, Ha, and Snyrg set sail in their silver galleons, and went
looming down the sea to come to the shores of men. And first they came
to an island where were fisher folk; and the folk of the island,
running down to the shore cried out to them:
“Who be ye?”
And the Yozis answered:
“We be three gods, and we would have your worship.”
But the fisher folk answered:
“Here we worship Rahm, the Thunder, and have no worship nor sacrifice
for other gods.”
Then the Yozis snarled with anger and sailed away, and sailed till they
came to another shore, sandy and low and forsaken. And at last they
found an old man upon the shore, and they cried out to him:
“Old man upon the shore! We be three gods that it were well to worship,
gods of great power and apt in the granting of prayer.”
The old man answered:
“We worship Pegāna’s gods, who have a fondness for our incense and the
sound of our sacrifice when it squeals upon the altar.”
Then answered Snyrg:
“Asleep are Pegāna’s gods, nor will They wake for the humming of thy
prayers which lie in the dust upon Pegāna’s floor, and over Them
Sniracte, the spider of the worlds, hath woven a web of mist. And the
squealing of the sacrifice maketh no music in ears that are closed in
sleep.”
The old man answered, standing upon the shore:
“Though all the gods of old shall answer our prayers no longer, yet
still to the gods of old shall all men pray here in Syrinais.”
But the Yozis turned their ships about and angrily sailed away, all
cursing Syrinais and Syrinais’s gods, but most especially the old man
that stood upon the shore.
Still the three Yozis lusted for the worship of men, and came, on the
third night of their sailing, to a city’s lights; and nearing the shore
they found it a city of song wherein all folks rejoiced. Then sat each
Yozi on his galleon’s prow, and leered with his eyes upon the city, so
that the music stopped and the dancing ceased, and all looked out to
sea at the strange shapes of the Yozis beneath their silver sails. Then
Snyrg demanded their worship, promising increase of joys, and swearing
by the light of his eyes that he would send little flames to leap over
the grass, to pursue the enemies of that city and to chase them about
the world.
But the people answered that in that city men worshipped Agrodaun, the
mountain standing alone, and might not worship other gods even though
they came in galleons with silver sails, sailing from over the sea. But
Snyrg answered:
“Certainly Agrodaun is only a mountain, and in no manner a god.”
But the priests of Agrodaun sang answer from the shore:
“If the sacrifice of men make not Agrodaun a god, nor blood still young
on his rocks, nor the little fluttering prayers of ten thousand hearts,
nor two thousands years of worship and all the hopes of the people and
the whole strength of our race, then are there no gods and ye be common
sailors, sailing from over the sea.”
Then said the Yozis:
“Hath Agrodaun answered prayer?” And the people heard the words that
the Yozis said.
Then went the priests of Agrodaun away from the shore and up the steep
streets of the city, the people following, and over the moor beyond it
to the foot of Agrodaun, and then said:
“Agrodaun, if thou art not our god, go back and herd with yonder common
hills, and put a cap of snow upon thy head and crouch far off as they
do beneath the sky; but if we have given thee divinity in two thousand
years, if our hopes are all about thee like a cloak, then stand and
look upon thy worshippers from over our city for ever.” And the smoke
that ascended from his feet stood still and there fell a hush over
great Agrodaun; and the priests went back to the sea and said to the
three Yozis:
“New gods shall have our worship when Agrodaun grows weary of being our
god, or when in some night-time he shall stride away, leaving us nought
to gaze at that is higher than our city.”
And the Yozis sailed away and cursed towards Agrodaun, but could not
hurt him, for he was but a mountain.
And the Yozis sailed along the coast till they came to a river running
to the sea, and they sailed up the river till they came to a people at
work, who furrowed the soil and sowed, and strove against the forest.
Then the Yozis called to the people as they worked in the fields:
“Give us your worship and ye shall have many joys.”
But the people answered:
“We may not worship you.”
Then answered Snyrg:
“Ye also, have ye a god?”
And the people answered:
“We worship the years to come, and we set the world in order for their
coming, as one layeth raiment on the road before the advent of a King.
And when those years shall come, they shall accept the worship of a
race they knew not, and their people shall make their sacrifice to the
years that follow them, who, in their turn, shall minister to the
_End_.”
Then answered Snyrg:
“Gods that shall recompense you not. Rather give us your prayers and
have our pleasures, the pleasures that we shall give you, and when your
gods shall come, let them be wroth—they cannot punish you.”
But the people continued to sacrifice their labour to their gods, the
years to come, making the world a place for gods to dwell in, and the
Yozis cursed those gods and sailed away. And Ya, the Lord of malice,
swore that when those years should come, they should see whether it
were well for them to have snatched away the worship from three Yozis.
And still the Yozis sailed, for they said:
“It were better to be birds and have no air to fly in, than to be gods
having neither prayers nor worship.”
But where sky met with ocean, the Yozis saw land again, and thither
sailed; and there the Yozis saw men in strange old garments performing
ancient rites in a land of many temples. And the Yozis called to the
men as they performed their ancient rites and said:
“We be three gods well versed in the needs of men, to worship whom were
to obtain instant joy.”
But the men said:
“We have already gods.”
And Snyrg replied:
“Ye, too?”
The men answered:
“For we worship the things that have been and all the years that were.
Divinely have they helped us, therefore we give them worship that is
their due.”
And the Yozis answered the people:
“We be gods of the present and return good things for worship.”
But the people answered, saying from the shore:
“Our gods have given us already the good things, and we return Them the
worship that is Their due.”
And the Yozis set their faces to landward, and cursed all things that
had been and all the years that were, and sailed in their galleons
away.
A rocky shore in an inhuman land stood up against the sea. Thither the
Yozis came and found no man, but out of the dark from inland towards
evening came a herd of great baboons and chattered greatly when they
saw the ships.
Then spake Snyrg to them:
“Have ye, too, a god?”
And the baboons spat.
Then said the Yozis:
“We be seductive gods, having a particular remembrance for little
prayers.”
But the baboons leered fiercely at the Yozis and would have none of
them for gods.
One said that prayers hindered the eating of nuts. But Snyrg leaned
forward and whispered, and the baboons went down upon their knees and
clasped their hands as men clasp, and chattered prayer and said to one
another that these were the gods of old, and gave the Yozis their
worship—for Snyrg had whispered in their ears that, if they would
worship the Yozis, he would make them men. And the baboons arose from
worshipping, smoother about the face and a little shorter in the arms,
and went away and hid their bodies in clothing, and afterwards galloped
away from the rocky shore and went and herded with men. And men could
not discern what they were, for their bodies were bodies of men, though
their souls were still the souls of beasts and their worship went to
the Yozis, spirits of ill.
And the lords of malice, hatred and madness sailed back to their island
in the sea and sat upon the shore as gods sit, with right hand
uplifted; and at evening foul prayers from the baboons gathered about
them and infested the rocks.
But in Pegāna the gods awoke with a start.
THE KING THAT WAS NOT
The land of Runazar hath no King nor ever had one; and this is the law
of the land of Runazar that, seeing that it hath never had a King, it
shall not have one for ever. Therefore in Runazar the priests hold
sway, who tell people that never in Runazar hath there been a King.
Althazar, King of Runazar, and lord of all lands near by, commanded for
the closer knowledge of the gods that Their images should be carven in
Runazar, and in all lands near by. And when Althazar’s command, wafted
abroad by trumpets, came tinkling in the ear of all the gods, right
glad were They at the sound of it. Therefore men quarried marble from
the earth, and sculptors busied themselves in Runazar to obey the edict
of the King. But the gods stood by starlight on the hills where the
sculptors might see Them, and draped the clouds about Them, and put
upon Them Their divinest air, that sculptors might do justice to
Pegāna’s gods. Then the gods strode back into Pegāna and the sculptors
hammered and wrought, and there came a day when the Master of Sculptors
took audience of the King, saying:
“Althazar, King of Runazar, High Lord moreover of all the lands near
by, to whom be the gods benignant, humbly have we completed the images
of all such gods as were in thine edict named.”
Then the King commanded a great space to be cleared among the houses in
his city, and there the images of all the gods were borne and set
before the King, and there were assembled the Master of Sculptors and
all his men; and before each stood a soldier bearing a pile of gold
upon a jewelled tray, and behind each stood a soldier with a drawn
sword pointing against their necks, and the King looked upon the
images. And lo! they stood as gods with the clouds all draped about
them, making the sign of the gods, but their bodies were those of men,
and lo! their faces were very like the King’s, and their beards were as
the King’s beard. And the King said:
“These be indeed Pegāna’s gods.”
And the soldiers that stood before the sculptors were caused to present
to them the piles of gold, and the soldiers that stood behind the
sculptors were caused to sheath their swords. And the people shouted:
“These be indeed Pegāna’s gods, whose faces we are permitted to see by
the will of Althazar the King, to whom be the gods benignant.” And
heralds were sent abroad through the cities of Runazar and of all the
lands near by, proclaiming of the images:
“These be Pegāna’s gods.”
But up in Pegāna the gods howled with wrath and Mung leant forward to
make the sign of Mung against Althazar the King. But the gods laid
Their hands upon his shoulder saying:
“Slay him not, for it is not enough that Althazar shall die, who hath
made the faces of the gods to be like the faces of men, but he must not
even have ever been.”
Then said the gods:
“Spake we of Althazar, a King?”
And the gods said:
“Nay, we spake not.” And the gods said:
“Dreamed we of one Althazar?” And the gods said:
“Nay, we dreamed not.”
But in the royal palace of Runazar, Althazar, passing suddenly out of
the remembrance of the gods, became no longer a thing that was or had
ever been.
And by the throne of Althazar lay a robe, and near it lay a crown, and
the priests of the gods entered his palace and made it a temple of the
gods. And the people coming to worship said:
“Whose was this robe and to what purpose is this crown?”
And the priests answered:
“The gods have cast away the fragment of a garment and lo! from the
fingers of the gods hath slipped one little ring.”
And the people said to the priests:
“Seeing that Runazar hath never had a King, therefore be ye our rulers,
and make ye our laws in the sight of Pegāna’s gods.”
THE CAVE OF KAI
The pomp of crowning was ended, the rejoicings had died away, and
Khanazar, the new King, sat in the seat of the Kings of Averon to do
his work upon the destinies of men. His uncle, Khanazar the Lone, had
died, and he had come from a far castle to the south, with a great
procession, to Ilaun, the citadel of Averon; and there they had crowned
him King of Averon and of the mountains, and Lord, if there be aught
beyond those mountains, of all such lands as are. But now the pomp of
the crowning was gone away and Khanazar sat afar off from his home, a
very mighty King.
Then the King grew weary of the destinies of Averon and weary of the
making of commands. So Khanazar sent heralds through all cities saying:
“Hear! The will of the King! Hear! The will of the King of Averon and
of the mountains and Lord, if there be aught beyond those mountains, of
all such lands as are. Let there come together to Ilaun all such as
have an art in secret matters. Hear!”
And there gathered together to Ilaun the wise men of all the degrees of
magic, even to the seventh, who had made spells before Khanazar the
Lone; and they came before the new King in his palace placing their
hands upon his feet. Then said the King to the magicians:
“I have a need.”
And they answered:
“The earth touches the feet of the King in token of submission.”
But the King answered:
“My need is not of the earth; but I would find certain of the hours
that have been, and sundry days that were.”
And all the wise folks were silent, till there spake out mournfully the
wisest of them all, who made spells in the seventh degree, saying:
“The days that were, and the hours, have winged their way to Mount
Agdora’s summit, and there, dipping, have passed away from sight, not
ever to return, for haply they have not heard the King’s command.”
Of these wise folks are many things chronicled. Moreover, it is set in
writing of the scribes how they had audience of King Khanazar and of
the words they spake, but of their further deeds there is no legend.
But it is told how the King sent men to run and pass through all the
cities till they should find one that was wiser even than the magicians
that had made spells before Khanazar the Lone. Far up the mountains
that limit Averon they found Syrahn, the prophet, among the goats, who
was of none of the degrees of magic, and who had cast no spells before
the former King. Him they brought to Khanazar, and the King said unto
him:
“I have a need.”
And Syrahn answered:
“Thou art a man.”
And the King said:
“Where lie the days that were and certain hours?”
And Syrahn answered:
“These things lie in a cave afar from here, and over the cave stands
sentinel one Kai, and this cave Kai hath guarded from the gods and men
since ever the Beginning was made. It may be that he shall let Khanazar
pass by.”
Then the King gathered elephants and camels that carried burdens of
gold, and trusty servants that carried precious gems, and gathered an
army to go before him and an army to follow behind, and sent out
horsemen to warn the dwellers of the plains that the King of Averon was
afoot.
And he bade Syrahn to lead to that place where the days of old lie hid
and all forgotten hours.
Across the plain and up Mount Agdora, and dipping beyond its summit
went Khanazar the King, and his two armies who followed Syrahn. Eight
times the purple tent with golden border had been pitched for the King
of Averon, and eight times it had been struck ere the King and the
King’s armies came to a dark cave in a valley dark, where Kai stood
guard over the days that were. And the face of Kai was as a warrior
that vanquisheth cities and burdeneth himself not with captives, and
his form was as the forms of gods, but his eyes were the eyes of
beasts; before whom came the King of Averon with elephants and camels
bearing burdens of gold, and trusty servants carrying precious gems.
Then said the King:
“Yonder behold my gifts. Give back to me my yesterday with its waving
banners, my yesterday with its music and blue sky and all its cheering
crowds that made me King, the yesterday that sailed with gleaming wings
over my Averon.”
And Kai answered, pointing to his cave:
“Thither, dishonoured and forgot, thy yesterday slunk away. And who
amid the dusty heap of the forgotten days shall grovel to find thy
yesterday?”
Then answered the King of Averon and of the mountains and Lord, if
there be aught beyond them, of all such lands as are:
“I will go down on my knees in yon dark cave and search with my hands
amid the dust, if so I may find my yesterday again and certain hours
that are gone.”
And the King pointed to his piles of gold that stood where elephants
were met together, and beyond them to the scornful camels. And Kai
answered:
“The gods have offered me the gleaming worlds and all as far as the
Rim, and whatever lies beyond it as far as the gods may see—and thou
comest to me with elephants and camels.”
Then said the King:
“Across the orchards of my home there hath passed one hour whereof thou
knowest well, and I pray to thee, who wilt take no gifts borne upon
elephants or camels, to give me of thy mercy one second back, one grain
of dust that clings to that hour in the heap that lies within thy
cave.”
And, at the word mercy, Kai laughed. And the King turned his armies to
the east. Therefore the armies returned to Averon and the heralds
before them cried:
“Here cometh Khanazar, King of Averon and of the mountains and Lord, if
there be aught beyond those mountains, of all such lands as are.”
[Illustration: Kai Laughed]
And the King said to them:
“Say rather that here comes one greatly wearied who, having
accomplished nought, returneth from a quest forlorn.”
So the King came again to Averon.
But it is told how there came into Ilaun one evening as the sun was
setting a harper with a golden harp desiring audience of the King.
And it is told how men led him to Khanazar, who sat frowning alone upon
his throne, to whom said the harper:
“I have a golden harp; and to its strings have clung like dust some
seconds out of the forgotten hours and little happenings of the days
that were.”
And Khanazar looked up and the harper touched the strings, and the old
forgotten things were stirring again, and there arose a sound of songs
that had passed away and long since voices. Then when the harper saw
that Khanazar looked not angrily upon him his fingers tramped over the
chords as the gods tramp down the sky, and out of the golden harp arose
a haze of memories; and the King leaning forward and staring before him
saw in the haze no more his palace walls, but saw a valley with a
stream that wandered through it, and woods upon either hill, and an old
castle standing lonely to the south. And the harper, seeing a strange
look upon the face of Khanazar, said:
“Is the King pleased who lords it over Averon and the mountains, and,
if there be aught beyond them, over all such lands as are?”
And the King said:—
“Seeing that I am a child again in a valley to the south, how may I say
what may be the will of the great King?”
When the stars shone high over Ilaun and still the King sat staring
straight before him, all the courtiers drew away from the great palace,
save one that stayed and kept one taper burning, and with them went the
harper.
And when the dawn came up through silent archways into the marble
palace, making the taper pale, the King still stared before him, and
still he sat there when the stars shone again clearly and high above
Ilaun.
But on the second morning the King arose and sent for the harper and
said to him:—
“I am King again, and thou that hast a skill to stay the hours and
mayest bring again to men their forgotten days, thou shalt stand
sentinel over my great to-morrow; and when I go forth to conquer
Ziman-ho and make my armies mighty thou shalt stand between that morrow
and the cave of Kai, and haply some deed of mine and the battling of my
armies shall cling to thy golden harp and not go down dishonoured into
the cave. For my to-morrow, who with such resounding stride goes
trampling through my dreams, is far too kingly to herd with forgotten
days in the dust of things that were. But on some future day, when
Kings are dead and all their deeds forgotten, some harper of that time
shall come and from those golden strings awake those deeds that echo in
my dreams, till my to-morrow shall stride forth among the lesser days
and tell the years that Khanazar was a King.”
And answered the harper:
“I will stand sentinel over thy great to-morrow, and when thou goest
forth to conquer Ziman-ho and make thine armies mighty I will stand
between thy morrow and the cave of Kai, till thy deeds and the battling
of thine armies shall cling to my golden harp and not go down
dishonoured into the cave. So that when Kings are dead and all their
deeds forgotten the harpers of the future time shall awake from these
golden chords those deeds of thine. This will I do.”
Men of these days, that be skilled upon the harp, tell still of
Khanazar, how that he was King of Averon and of the mountains, and
claimed lordship of certain lands beyond, and how he went with armies
against Ziman-ho and fought great battles, and in the last gained
victory and was slain. But Kai, as he waited with his claws to gather
in the last days of Khanazar that they might loom enormous in his cave,
still found them not, and only gathered in some meaner deeds and the
days and hours of lesser men, and was vexed by the shadow of a harper
that stood between him and the world.
THE SORROW OF SEARCH
It is told also of King Khanazar how he bowed very low unto the gods of
Old. None bowed so low unto the gods of Old as did King Khanazar.
One day the King returning from the worship of the gods of Old and from
bowing before them in the temple of the gods commanded their prophets
to appear before him, saying:
“I would know somewhat concerning the gods.”
Then came the prophets before King Khanazar, burdened with many books,
to whom the King said:
“It is not in books.”
Thereat the prophets departed, bearing away with them a thousand
methods well devised in books whereby men may gain wisdom of the gods.
One alone remained, a master prophet, who had forgotten books, to whom
the King said:
“The gods of Old are mighty.”
And answered the master prophet:
“Very mighty are the gods of Old.”
Then said the King:
“There are no gods but the gods of Old.”
And answered the prophet:
“There are none other.”
And they two being alone within the palace the King said:
“Tell me aught concerning gods or men if aught of the truth be known.”
Then said the master prophet:
“Far and white and straight lieth the road to Knowing, and down it in
the heat and dust go all wise people of the earth, but in the fields
before they come to it the very wise lie down or pluck the flowers. By
the side of the road to Knowing—O King, it is hard and hot—stand many
temples, and in the doorway of every temple stand many priests, and
they cry to the travellers that weary of the road, crying to them:
“This is the End.”
And in the temples are the sounds of music, and from each roof arises
the savour of pleasant burning; and all that look at a cool temple,
whichever temple they look at, or hear the hidden music, turn in to see
whether it be indeed the End. And such as find that their temple is not
indeed the End set forth again upon the dusty road, stopping at each
temple as they pass for fear they miss the End, or striving onwards on
the road, and see nothing in the dust, till they can walk no longer and
are taken worn and weary of their journey into some other temple by a
kindly priest who shall tell them that this also is the End. Neither on
that road may a man gain any guiding from his fellows, for only one
thing that they say is surely true, when they say:
“Friend, we can see nothing for the dust.”
And of the dust that hides the way much has been there since ever that
road began, and some is stirred up by the feet of all that travel upon
it, and more arises from the temple doors.
And, O King, it were better for thee, travelling upon that road, to
rest when thou hearest one calling: “This is the End,” with the sounds
of music behind him. And if in the dust and darkness thou pass by Lo
and Mush and the pleasant temple of Kynash, or Sheenath with his opal
smile, or Sho with his eyes of agate, yet Shilo and Mynarthitep, Gazo
and Amurund and Slig are still before thee and the priests of their
temples will not forget to call thee.
And, O King, it is told that only one discerned the end and passed by
three thousand temples, and the priests of the last were like the
priests of the first, and all said that their temple was at the end of
the road, and the dark of the dust lay over them all, and all were very
pleasant and only the road was weary. And in some were many gods, and
in a few only one, and in some the shrine was empty, and all had many
priests, and in all the travellers were happy as they rested. And into
some his fellow travellers tried to force him, and when he said:
“I will travel further,” many said:
“This man lies, for the road ends here.”
And he that travelled to the End hath told that when the thunder was
heard upon the road there arose the sound of the voices of all the
priests as far as he could hear, crying:
“Hearken to Shilo”—“Hear Mush”—“Lo! Kynash”—“The voice of
Sho”—“Mynarthitep is angry”—“Hear the word of Slig!”
And far away along the road one cried to the traveller that Sheenath
stirred in his sleep.
O King this is very doleful. It is told that that traveller came at
last to the utter End and there was a mighty gulf, and in the darkness
at the bottom of the gulf one small god crept, no bigger than a hare,
whose voice came crying in the cold:
“I know not.”
And beyond the gulf was nought, only the small god crying.
And he that travelled to the End fled backwards for a great distance
till he came to temples again, and entering one where a priest cried:
“This is the End,” lay down and rested on a couch. There Yush sat
silent, carved with an emerald tongue and two great eyes of sapphire,
and there many rested and were happy. And an old priest, coming from
comforting a child, came over to that traveller who had seen the End
and said to him:
“This is Yush and this is the End of wisdom.”
And the traveller answered:
“Yush is very peaceful and this indeed the End.”
“O King, wouldst thou hear more?”
And the King said:
“I would hear all.”
And the master prophet answered:
“There was also another prophet and his name was Shaun, who had such
reverence for the gods of Old that he became able to discern their
forms by starlight as they strode, unseen by others, among men. Each
night did Shaun discern the forms of the gods and every day he taught
concerning them, till men in Averon knew how the gods appeared all grey
against the mountains, and how Rhoog was higher than Mount Scagadon,
and how Skun was smaller, and how Asgool leaned forward as he strode,
and how Trodath peered about him with small eyes. But one night as
Shaun watched the gods of Old by starlight, he faintly discerned some
other gods that sat far up the slopes of the mountains in the stillness
behind the gods of Old. And the next day he hurled his robe away that
he wore as Averon’s prophet and said to his people:
“There be gods greater than the gods of Old, three gods seen faintly on
the hills by starlight looking on Averon.”
And Shaun set out and travelled many days and many people followed him.
And every night he saw more clearly the shapes of the three new gods
who sat silent when the gods of Old were striding among men. On the
higher slopes of the mountain Shaun stopped with all his people, and
there they built a city and worshipped the gods, whom only Shaun could
see, seated above them on the mountain. And Shaun taught how the gods
were like grey streaks of light seen before dawn, and how the god on
the right pointed upward toward the sky, and how the god on the left
pointed downward toward the ground, but the god in the middle slept.
And in the city Shaun’s followers built three temples. The one on the
right was a temple for the young, and the one on the left a temple for
the old, and the third was a temple with doors closed and
barred—therein none ever entered. One night as Shaun watched before the
three gods sitting like pale light against the mountain, he saw on the
mountain’s summit two gods that spake together and pointed, mocking the
gods of the hill, only he heard no sound. The next day Shaun set out
and a few followed him to climb to the mountain’s summit in the cold,
to find the gods who were so great that they mocked at the silent
three. And near the two gods they halted and built for themselves huts.
Also they built a temple wherein the Two were carved by the hand of
Shaun with their heads turned towards each other, with mockery on Their
faces and Their fingers pointing, and beneath Them were carved the
three gods of the hill as actors making sport. None remembered now
Asgool, Trodath, Skun, and Rhoog, the gods of Old.
For many years Shaun and his few followers lived in their huts upon the
mountain’s summit worshipping gods that mocked, and every night Shaun
saw the two gods by starlight as they laughed to one another in the
silence. And Shaun grew old.
One night as his eyes were turned towards the Two, he saw across the
mountains in the distance a great god seated in the plain and looming
enormous to the sky, who looked with angry eyes towards the Two as they
sat and mocked. Then said Shaun to his people, the few that had
followed him thither:
“Alas that we may not rest, but beyond us in the plain sitteth the one
true god and he is wroth with mocking. Let us therefore leave these two
that sit and mock and let us find the truth in the worship of that
greater god, who even though he kill shall yet not mock us.”
But the people answered:
“Thou hast taken from us many gods and taught us now to worship gods
that mock, and if there is laughter on their faces as we die, lo! thou
alone canst see it, and we would rest.”
But three men who had grown old with following followed still.
And down the steep mountain on the further side Shaun led them, saying: