And the three old men answered:
“We shall know indeed, O last of all the prophets.”
That night the two gods mocking at their worshippers mocked not at
Shaun nor his three followers, who coming to the plain still travelled
on till they came at last to a place where the eyes of Shaun at night
could closely see the vast form of their god. And beyond them as far as
the sky there lay a marsh. There they rested, building such shelters as
they could, and said to one another:
“This is the End, for Shaun discerneth that there are no more gods, and
before us lieth the marsh and old age hath come upon us.”
And since they could not labour to build a temple, Shaun carved upon a
rock all that he saw by starlight of the great god of the plain; so
that if ever others forsook the gods of Old because they saw beyond
them the Greater Three, and should thence come to knowledge of the
Twain that mocked, and should yet persevere in wisdom till they saw by
starlight him whom Shaun named the Ultimate god, they should still find
there upon the rock what one had written concerning the end of search.
For three years Shaun carved upon the rock, and rising one night from
carving, saying:
“Now is my labour done,” saw in the distance four greater gods beyond
the Ultimate god. Proudly in the distance beyond the marsh these gods
were tramping together, taking no heed of the god upon the plain. Then
said Shaun to his three followers:
“Alas that we know not yet, for there be gods beyond the marsh.”
None would follow Shaun, for they said that old age must end all
quests, and that they would rather wait there in the plain for Death
than that he should pursue them across the marsh.
Then Shaun said farewell to his followers, saying:
“You have followed me well since ever we forsook the gods of Old to
worship greater gods. Farewell. It may be that your prayers at evening
shall avail when you pray to the god of the plain, but I must go
onward, for there be gods beyond.”
So Shaun went down into the marsh, and for three days struggled through
it, and on the third night saw the four gods not very far away, yet
could not discern Their faces. All the next day Shaun toiled on to see
Their faces by starlight, but ere the night came up or one star shone,
at set of sun, Shaun fell down before the feet of his four gods. The
stars came out, and the faces of the four shone bright and clear, but
Shaun saw them not, for the labour of toiling and seeing was over for
Shaun; and lo! They were Asgool, Trodath, Skun, and Rhoog—The gods of
Old.
Then said the King:
“It is well that the sorrow of search cometh only to the wise, for the
wise are very few.”
Also the King said:
“Tell me this thing, O prophet. Who are the true gods?”
The master prophet answered:
“Let the King command.”
THE MEN OF YARNITH
The men of Yarnith hold that nothing began until Yarni Zai uplifted his
hand. Yarni Zai, they say, has the form of a man but is greater and is
a thing of rock. When he uplifted his hand all the rocks that wandered
beneath the Dome, by which name they call the sky, gathered together
around Yarni Zai.
Of the other worlds they say nought, but hold that the stars are the
eyes of all the other gods that look on Yarni Zai and laugh, for they
are all greater than he, though they have gathered no worlds around
them.
Yet though they be greater than Yarni Zai, and though they laugh at him
when they speak together beneath the Dome, they all speak of Yarni Zai.
Unheard is the speaking of the gods to all except the gods, but the men
of Yarnith tell of how their prophet Iraun lying in the sand desert,
Azrakhan, heard once their speaking and knew thereby how Yarni Zai
departed from all the other gods to clothe himself with rocks and make
a world.
Certain it is that every legend tells that at the end of the valley of
Yodeth, where it becomes lost among black cliffs, there sits a figure
colossal, against a mountain, whose form is the form of a man with the
right hand uplifted, but vaster than the hills. And in the Book of
Secret Things which the prophets keep in the Temple that stands in
Yarnith is writ the story of the gathering of the world as Iraun heard
it when the gods spake together, up in the stillness above Azrakhan.
And all that read this may learn how Yarni Zai drew the mountains about
him like a cloak, and piled the world below him. It is not set in
writing for how many years Yarni Zai sat clothed with rocks at the end
of the Valley of Yodeth, while there was nought in all the world save
rocks and Yarni Zai.
But one day there came another god running over the rocks across the
world, and he ran as the clouds run upon days of storm, and as he sped
towards Yodeth, Yarni Zai, sitting against his mountain with right hand
uplifted, cried out:
“What dost thou, running across my world, and whither art thou going?”
And the new god answered never a word, but sped onwards, and as he went
to left of him and to right of him there sprang up green things all
over the rocks of the world of Yarni Zai.
So the new god ran round the world and made it green, saying in the
valley where Yarni Zai sat monstrous against his mountain and certain
lands wherein Cradoa, the drought, browsed horribly at night.
Further, the writing in the book tells of how there came yet another
god running speedily out of the east, as swiftly as the first, with his
face set westward, and nought to stay his running; and how he stretched
both arms outward beside him, and to left of him and to right of him as
he ran the whole world whitened.
And Yarni Zai called out:
“What dost thou, running across my world?”
And the new god answered:
“I bring the snow for all the world—whiteness and resting and
stillness.”
And he stilled the running of streams and laid his hand even upon the
head of Yarni Zai and muffled the noises of the world, till there was
no sound in all lands, but the running of the new god that brought the
snow as he sped across the plains.
But the two new gods chased each other for ever round the world, and
every year they passed again, running down the valleys and up the hills
and away across the plains before Yarni Zai, whose hand uplifted had
gathered the world about him.
And, furthermore, the very devout may read how all the animals came up
the valley of Yodeth to the mountain whereon rested Yarni Zai, saying:
“Give us leave to live, to be lions, rhinoceroses and rabbits, and to
go about the world.”
And Yarni Zai gave leave to the animals to be lions, rhinoceroses and
rabbits, and all the other kinds of beasts, and to go about the world.
But when they all had gone he gave leave to the bird to be a bird and
to go about the sky.
And further there came a man into that valley who said:
“Yarni Zai, thou hast made animals into thy world. O Yarni Zai, ordain
that there be men.”
So Yarni Zai made men.
Then was there in the world Yarni Zai, and two strange gods that
brought the greenness and the growing and the whiteness and the
stillness, and animals and men.
And the god of the greenness pursued the god of the whiteness, and the
god of the whiteness pursued the god of the greenness, and men pursued
animals, and animals pursued men. But Yarni Zai sat still against his
mountain with his right hand uplifted. But the men of Yarnith say that
when the arm of Yarni Zai shall cease to be uplifted the world shall be
flung behind him, as a man’s cloak is flung away. And Yarni Zai, no
longer clad with the world, shall go back into the emptiness beneath
the Dome among the stars, as a diver seeking pearls goes down from the
islands.
It is writ in Yarnith’s histories by scribes of old that there passed a
year over the valley of Yarnith that bore not with it any rain; and the
Famine from the wastes beyond, finding that it was dry and pleasant in
Yarnith, crept over the mountains and down their slopes and sunned
himself at the edge of Yarnith’s fields.
And men of Yarnith, labouring in the fields, found the Famine as he
nibbled at the corn and chased the cattle, and hastily they drew water
from deep wells and cast it over the Famine’s dry grey fur and drove
him back to the mountains. But the next day when his fur was dry again
the Famine returned and nibbled more of the corn and chased the cattle
further, and again men drove him back. But again the Famine returned,
and there came a time when there was no more water in the wells to
frighten the Famine with, and he nibbled the corn till all of it was
gone and the cattle that he chased grew very lean. And the Famine drew
nearer, even to the houses of men and trampled on their gardens at
night and ever came creeping nearer to their doors. At last the cattle
were able to run no more, and one by one the Famine took them by their
throats and dragged them down, and at night he scratched in the ground,
killing even the roots of things, and came and peered in at the
doorways and started back and peered in at the door again a little
further, but yet was not bold enough to enter altogether, for fear that
men should have water to throw over his dry grey fur.
Then did the men of Yarnith pray to Yarni Zai as he sat far off beyond
the valley, praying to him night and day to call his Famine back, but
the Famine sat and purred and slew all the cattle and dared at last to
take men for his food.
And the histories tell how he slew children first and afterwards grew
bolder and tore down women, till at last he even sprang at the throats
of men as they laboured in the fields.
Then said the men of Yarnith:
“There must go one to take our prayers to the feet of Yarni Zai; for
the world at evening utters many prayers, and it may be that Yarni Zai,
as he hears all earth lamenting when the prayers at evening flutter to
his feet, may have missed among so many the prayers of the men of
Yarnith. But if one go and say to Yarni Zai: ‘There is a little crease
in the outer skirts of thy cloak that men call the valley of Yarnith,
where the Famine is a greater lord than Yarni Zai,’ it may be that he
shall remember for an instant and call his Famine back.”
Yet all men feared to go, seeing that they were but men and Yarni Zai
was Lord of the whole earth, and the journey was far and rocky. But
that night Hothrun Dath heard the Famine whining outside his house and
pawing at his door; therefore, it seemed to him more meet to wither
before the glance of Yarni Zai than that the whining of that Famine
should ever again fall upon his ears.
So about the dawn, Hothrun Dath crept away, fearing still to hear
behind him the breathing of the Famine, and set out upon his journey
whither pointed the graves of men. For men in Yarnith are buried with
their feet and faces turned toward Yarni Zai, lest he might beckon to
them in their night and call them to him.
So all day long did Hothrun Dath follow the way of the graves. It is
told that he even journeyed for three days and nights with nought but
the graves to guide him, as they pointed towards Yarni Zai where all
the world slopes upwards towards Yodeth, and the great black rocks that
are nearest to Yarni Zai lie gathered together by clans, till he came
to the two great black pillars of asdarinth and saw the rocks beyond
them piled in a dark valley, narrow and aloof, and knew that this was
Yodeth. Then did he haste no more, but walked quietly up the valley,
daring not to disturb the stillness, for he said:
“Surely this is the stillness of Yarni Zai, which lay about him before
he clothed himself with rocks.”
[Illustration: Departure of Hothrun Dath]
Here among the rocks which first had gathered to the call of Yarni Zai,
Hothrun Dath felt a mighty fear, but yet went onwards because of all
his people and because he knew that thrice in every hour in some dark
chamber Death and Famine met to speak two words together, “The End.”
But as dawn turned the darkness into grey, he came to the valley’s end,
and even touched the foot of Yarni Zai, but saw him not, for he was all
hidden in the mist. Then Hothrun Dath feared that he might not behold
him to look him in the eyes when he sent up his prayer. But laying his
forehead against the foot of Yarni Zai he prayed for the men of
Yarnith, saying:
“O Lord of Famine and Father of Death, there is a spot in the world
that thou hast cast about thee which men call Yarnith, and there men
die before the time thou hast apportioned, passing out of Yarnith.
Perchance the Famine hath rebelled against thee, or Death exceeds his
powers. O Master of the World, drive out the Famine as a moth out of
thy cloak, lest the gods beyond that regard thee with their eyes
say—there is Yarni Zai, and lo! his cloak is tattered.”
And in the mist no sign made Yarni Zai. Then did Hothrun Dath pray to
Yarni Zai to make some sign with his uplifted hand that he might know
he heard him. In the awe and silence he waited, until nigh the dawn the
mist that hid the figure rolled upwards. Serene above the mountains he
brooded over the world, silent, with right hand uplifted.
What Hothrun Dath saw there upon the face of Yarni Zai no history
telleth, or how he came again alive to Yarnith, but this is writ that
he fled, and none hath since beheld the face of Yarni Zai. Some say
that he saw a look on the face of the image that set a horror tingling
through his soul, but it is held in Yarnith that he found the marks of
instruments of carving about the figure’s feet, and discerning thereby
that Yarni Zai was wrought by the hands of men, he fled down the valley
screaming:
“There are no gods, and all the world is lost.” And hope departed from
him and all the purposes of life. Motionless behind him, lit by the
rising sun, sat the colossal figure with right hand uplifted that man
had made in his own image.
But the men of Yarnith tell how Hothrun Dath came back again panting to
his own city, and told the people that there were no gods and that
Yarnith had no hope from Yarni Zai. Then the men of Yarnith when they
knew that the Famine came not from the gods, arose and strove against
him. They dug deep for wells, and slew goats for food high up on
Yarnith’s mountains and went afar and gathered blades of grass, where
yet it grew, that their cattle might live. Thus they fought the Famine,
for they said: “If Yarni Zai be not a god, then is there nothing
mightier in Yarnith than men, and who is the Famine that he should bare
his teeth against the lords of Yarnith?”
And they said: “If no help cometh from Yarni Zai then is there no help
but from our own strength and might, and we be Yarnith’s gods with the
saving of Yarnith burning within us or its doom according to our
desire.”
And some more the Famine slew, but others raised their hands saying:
“These be the hands of gods,” and drave the Famine back till he went
from the houses of men and out among the cattle, and still the men of
Yarnith pursued him, till above the heat of the fight came the million
whispers of rain heard faintly far off towards evening. Then the Famine
fled away howling back to the mountains and over the mountains’ crests,
and became no more than a thing that is told in Yarnith’s legends.
A thousand years have passed across the graves of those that fell in
Yarnith by the Famine. But the men of Yarnith still pray to Yarni Zai,
carved by men’s hands in the likeness of a man, for they say—“It may be
that the prayers we offer to Yarni Zai may roll upwards from his image
as do the mists at dawn, and somewhere find at last the other gods or
that God who sits behind the others of whom our prophets know not.”
FOR THE HONOUR OF THE GODS
Of the great wars of the Three Islands are many histories writ and of
how the heroes of the olden time one by one were slain, but nought is
told of the days before the olden time, or ever the people of the isles
went forth to war, when each in his own land tended cattle or sheep,
and listless peace obscured those isles in the days before the olden
time. For then the people of the Islands played like children about the
feet of Chance and had no gods and went not forth to war. But sailors,
cast by strange winds upon those shores which they named the Prosperous
Isles, and finding a happy people which had no gods, told how they
should be happier still and know the gods and fight for the honour of
the gods and leave their names writ large in histories and at the last
die proclaiming the names of the gods. And the people of the islands
met and said:
“The beasts we know, but lo! these sailors tell of things beyond that
know us as we know the beasts and use us for their pleasure as we use
the beasts, but yet are apt to answer idle prayer flung up at evening
near the hearth, when a man returneth from the ploughing of the fields.
Shall we now seek these gods?” And some said:
“We are lords of the Three Islands and have none to trouble us, and
while we live we find prosperity, and when we die our bones have ease
in the quiet. Let us not therefore seek those who may loom greater than
we do in the Islands Three or haply harry our bones when we be dead.”
But others said:
“The prayers that a man mutters, when the drought hath come and all the
cattle die, go up unheeded to the heedless clouds, and if somewhere
there be those that garner prayer let us send men to seek them and to
say: ‘There be men in the Isles called Three, or sometimes named by
sailors the Prosperous Isles (and they be in the Central Sea), who
ofttimes pray, and it hath been told us that ye love the worship of
men, and for it answer prayer, and we be travellers from the Islands
Three.’”
And the people of the Islands were greatly allured by the thought of
strange things neither men nor beasts who at evening answered prayer.
Therefore they sent men down in ships with sails to sail across the
sea, and in safety over the sea to a far shore Chance brought the
ships. Then over hill and valley three men set forth seeking to find
the gods, and their comrades beached the ships and waited on the shore.
And they that sought the gods followed for thirty nights the lightnings
in the sky over five mountains, and as they came to the summit of the
last, they saw a valley beneath them, and lo! the gods. For there the
gods sat, each on a marble hill, each sitting with an elbow on his
knee, and his chin upon his hand, and all the gods were smiling about
Their lips. And below them there were armies of little men, and about
the feet of the gods they fought against each other and slew one
another for the honour of the gods, and for the glory of the name of
the gods. And round them in the valley their cities that they had
builded with the toil of their hands, they burned for the honour of the
gods, where they died for the honour of the gods, and the gods looked
down and smiled. And up from the valley fluttered the prayers of men
and here and there the gods did answer a prayer, but oftentimes They
mocked them, and all the while men died.
And they that had sought the gods from the Islands Three, having seen
what they had seen, lay down on the mountain summit lest the gods
should see them. Then they crept backward a little space, still lying
down, and whispered together and then stooped low and ran, and
travelled across the mountains in twenty days and came again to their
comrades by the shore. But their comrades asked them if their quest had
failed and the three men only answered:
“We have seen the gods.”
[Illustration: Lo! The Gods]
And setting sail the ships hove back across the Central Sea and came
again to the Islands Three, where rest the feet of Chance, and said to
the people:
“We have seen the gods.”
But to the rulers of the Islands they told how the gods drove men in
herds; and went back and tended their flocks again all in the
Prosperous Isles, and were kinder to their cattle after they had seen
how that the gods used men.
But the gods walking large about Their valley, and peering over the
great mountain’s rim, saw one morning the tracks of the three men. Then
the gods bent their faces low over the tracks and leaning forward ran,
and came before the evening of the day to the shore where the men had
set sail in ships, and saw the tracks of ships upon the sand, and waded
far out into the sea, and yet saw nought. Still it had been well for
the Islands Three had not certain men that had heard the travellers’
tale sought also to see the gods themselves. These in the night-time
slipped away from the Isles in ships, and ere the gods had retreated to
the hills, They saw where ocean meets with sky the full white sails of
those that sought the gods upon an evil day. Then for a while the
people of those gods had rest while the gods lurked behind the
mountain, waiting for the travellers from the Prosperous Isles. But the
travellers came to shore and beached their ships, and sent six of their
number to the mountain whereof they had been told. But they after many
days returned, having not seen the gods but only the smoke that went
upward from burned cities, and vultures that stood in the sky instead
of answered prayer. And they all ran down their ships again into the
sea, and set sail again and came to the Prosperous Isles. But in the
distance crouching behind the ships the gods came wading through the
sea that They might have the worship of the isles. And to every isle of
the three the gods showed themselves in different garb and guise, and
to all they said:
“Leave your flocks. Go forth and fight for the honour of the gods.”
And from one of the isles all the folk came forth in ships to battle
for gods that strode through the isle like kings. And from another they
came to fight for gods that walked like humble men upon the earth in
beggars’ rags; and the people of the other isle fought for the honour
of gods that were clothed in hair like beasts; and had many gleaming
eyes and claws upon their foreheads. But of how these people fought
till the isles grew desolate but very glorious, and all for the fame of
the gods, are many histories writ.
NIGHT AND MORNING
Once in an arbour of the gods above the fields of twilight Night
wandering alone came suddenly on Morning. Then Night drew from his face
his cloak of dark grey mists and said: “See, I am Night,” and they two
sitting in that arbour of the gods, Night told wondrous stories of old
mysterious happenings in the dark. And Morning sat and wondered, gazing
into the face of Night and at his wreath of stars. And Morning told how
the rains of Snamarthis smoked in the plain, but Night told how
Snamarthis held riot in the dark, with revelry and drinking and tales
told by kings, till all the hosts of Meenath crept against it and the
lights went out and there arose the din of arms or ever Morning came.
And Night told how Sindana the beggar had dreamed that he was a King,
and Morning told how she had seen Sindana find suddenly an army in the
plain, and how he had gone to it thinking he was King and the army had
believed him, and Sindana now ruled over Marthis and Targadrides,
Dynath, Zahn, and Tumeida. And most Night loved to tell of Assarnees,
whose ruins are scant memories on the desert’s edge, but Morning told
of the twin cities of Nardis and Timaut that lorded over the plain. And
Night told terribly of what Mynandes found when he walked through his
own city in the dark. And ever at the elbow of regal Night whispers
arose saying: “Tell Morning _this_.”
And ever Night told and ever Morning wondered. And Night spake on, and
told what the dead had done when they came in the darkness on the King
that had led them into battle once. And Night knew who slew Darnex and
how it was done. Moreover, he told why the seven Kings tortured
Sydatheris and what Sydatheris said just at the last, and how the Kings
went forth and took their lives.
And Night told whose blood had stained the marble steps that lead to
the temple in Ozahn, and why the skull within it wears a golden crown,
and whose soul is in the wolf that howls in the dark against the city.
And Night knew whither the tigers go out of the Irasian desert and the
place where they meet together, and who speaks to them and what she
says and why. And he told why human teeth had bitten the iron hinge in
the great gate that swings in the walls of Mondas, and who came up out
of the marsh alone in the darktime and demanded audience of the King
and told the King a lie, and how the King, believing it, went down into
the vaults of his palace and found only toads and snakes, who slew the
King. And he told of ventures in palace towers in the quiet, and knew
the spell whereby a man might send the light of the moon right into the
soul of his foe. And Night spoke of the forest and the stirring of
shadows and soft feet pattering and peering eyes, and of the fear that
sits behind the trees taking to itself the shape of something crouched
to spring.
But far under that arbour of the gods down on the earth the mountain
peak Mondana looked Morning in the eyes and forsook his allegiance to
Night, and one by one the lesser hills about Mondana’s knees greeted
the Morning. And all the while in the plains the shapes of cities came
looming out of the dusk. And Kongros stood forth with all her
pinnacles, and the winged figure of Poesy carved upon the eastern
portal of her gate, and the squat figure of Avarice carved facing it
upon the west; and the bat began to tire of going up and down her
streets, and already the owl was home. And the dark lions went up out
of the plain back to their caves again. Not as yet shone any dew upon
the spider’s snare nor came the sound of any insects stirring or bird
of the day, and full allegiance all the valleys owned still to their
Lord the Night. Yet earth was preparing for another ruler, and kingdom
by kingdom she stole away from Night, and there marched through the
dreams of men a million heralds that cried with the voice of the cock:
“Lo! Morning come behind us.” But in that arbour of the gods above the
fields of twilight the star wreath was paling about the head of Night,
and ever more wonderful on Morning’s brow appeared the mark of power.
And at the moment when the camp fires pale and the smoke goes grey to
the sky, and camels sniff the dawn, suddenly Morning forgot Night. And
out of that arbour of the gods, and away to the haunts of the dark,
Night with his swart cloak slunk away; and Morning placed her hand upon
the mists and drew them upward and revealed the earth, and drove the
shadows before her, and they followed Night. And suddenly the mystery
quitted haunting shapes, and an old glamour was gone, and far and wide
over the fields of earth a new splendour arose.
USURY
The men of Zonu hold that Yahn is God, who sits as a usurer behind a
heap of little lustrous gems and ever clutches at them with both his
arms. Scarce larger than a drop of water are the gleaming jewels that
lie under the grasping talons of Yahn, and every jewel is a life. Men
tell in Zonu that the earth was empty when Yahn devised his plan, and
on it no life stirred. Then Yahn lured to him shadows whose home was
beyond the Rim, who knew little of joys and nought of any sorrow, whose
place was beyond the Rim before the birth of Time. These Yahn lured to
him and showed them his heap of gems; and in the jewels there was
light, and green fields glistened in them, and there were glimpses of
blue sky and little streams, and very faintly little gardens showed
that flowered in orchard lands. And some showed winds in the heaven,
and some showed the arch of the sky with a waste plain drawn across it,
with grasses bent in the wind and never aught but the plain. But the
gems that changed the most had in their centre the ever changing sea.
Then the shadows gazed into the Lives and saw the green fields and the
sea and earth and the gardens of earth. And Yahn said: “I will loan you
each a Life, and you may do your work with it upon the Scheme of
Things, and have each a shadow for his servant in green fields and in
gardens, only for these things you shall polish these Lives with
experience and cut their edges with your griefs, and in the end shall
return them again to me.”
And thereto the shadows consented, that they might have gleaming Lives
and have shadows for their servants, and this thing became the Law. But
the shadows, each with his Life, departed and came to Zonu and to other
lands, and there with experience they polished the Lives of Yahn, and
cut them with human griefs until they gleamed anew. And ever they found
new scenes to gleam within these Lives, and cities and sails and men
shone in them where there had been before only green fields and sea,
and ever Yahn the usurer cried out to remind them of their bargain.
When men added to their Lives scenes that were pleasant to Yahn, then
was Yahn silent, but when they added scenes that pleased not the eyes
of Yahn, then did he take a toll of sorrow from them because it was the
Law.
But men forgot the usurer, and there arose some claiming to be wise in
the Law, who said that after their labour, which they wrought upon
their Lives, was done, those Lives should be theirs to possess; so men
took comfort from their toil and labour and the grinding and cutting of
their griefs. But as their Lives began to shine with experience of many
things, the thumb and forefinger of Yahn would suddenly close upon a
Life, and the man became a shadow. But away beyond the Rim the shadows
say:
“We have greatly laboured for Yahn, and have gathered griefs in the
world, and caused his Lives to shine, and Yahn doeth nought for us. Far
better had we stayed where no cares are, floating beyond the Rim.”
And there the shadows fear lest ever again they be lured by specious
promises to suffer usury at the hands of Yahn, who is overskilled in
Law. Only Yahn sits and smiles, watching his hoard increase in
preciousness, and hath no pity for the poor shadows whom he hath lured
from their quiet to toil in the form of men.
And ever Yahn lures more shadows and sends them to brighten his Lives,
sending the old Lives out again to make them brighter still; and
sometimes he gives to a shadow a Life that was once a king’s and
sendeth him with it down to the earth to play the part of a beggar, or
sometimes he sendeth a beggar’s Life to play the part of a king. What
careth Yahn?
The men of Zonu have been promised by those that claim to be wise in
the Law that their Lives which they have toiled at shall be theirs to
possess for ever, yet the men of Zonu fear that Yahn is greater and
overskilled in the Law. Moreover it hath been said that Time will bring
the hour when the wealth of Yahn shall be such as his dreams have
lusted for. Then shall Yahn leave the earth at rest and trouble the
shadows no more, but sit and gloat with his unseemly face over his
hoard of Lives, for his soul is a usurer’s soul. But others say, and
they swear that this is true, that there are gods of Old, who be far
greater than Yahn, who made the Law wherein Yahn is overskilled, and
who will one day drive a bargain with him that shall be too hard for
Yahn. Then Yahn shall wander away, a mean forgotten god, and perchance
in some forsaken land shall haggle with the rain for a drop of water to
drink, for his soul is a usurer’s soul. And the Lives—who knoweth the
gods of Old or what Their will shall be?
[Illustration: The Opulence of Yahn]
MLIDEEN
Upon an evening of the forgotten years the gods were seated upon Mowrah
Nawut above Mlideen holding the avalanche in leash.
All in the Middle City stood the Temples of the city’s priests, and
hither came all the people of Mlideen to bring them gifts, and there it
was the wont of the City’s priests to carve them gods for Mlideen. For
in a room apart in the Temple of Eld in the midst of the temples that
stood in the Middle City of Mlideen there lay a book called the Book of
Beautiful Devices, writ in a language that no man may read and writ
long ago, telling how a man may make for himself gods that shall
neither rage nor seek revenge against a little people. And ever the
priests came forth from reading in the Book of Beautiful Devices and
ever they sought to make benignant gods, and all the gods that they
made were different from each other, only their eyes turned all upon
Mlideen.
But upon Mowrah Nawut for all of the forgotten years the gods had
waited and forborne until the people of Mlideen should have carven one
hundred gods. Never came lightnings from Mowrah Nawut crashing upon
Mlideen, nor blight on harvests nor pestilence in the city, only upon
Mowrah Nawut the gods sat and smiled. The people of Mlideen had said:
“Yoma is god.” And the gods sat and smiled. And after the forgetting of
Yoma and the passing of years the people had said: “Zungari is god.”
And the gods sat and smiled.
Then on the altar of Zungari a priest had set a figure squat, carven in
purple agate, saying: “Yazun is god.” Still the gods sat and smiled.
[Illustration: “Yazun is god.”]
About the feet of Yonu, Bazun, Nidish and Sundrao had gone the worship
of the people of Mlideen, and still the gods sat holding the avalanche
in leash above the city.
There set a great calm towards sunset over the heights, and Mowrah
Nawut stood up still with gleaming snow, and into the hot city cool
breezes blew from his benignant slopes as Tarsi Zalo, high prophet of
Mlideen, carved out of a great sapphire the city’s hundredth god, and
then upon Mowrah Nawut the gods turned away saying: “One hundred
infamies have now been wrought.” And they looked no longer upon Mlideen
and held the avalanche no more in leash, and he leapt forward howling.
Over the Middle City of Mlideen now lies a mass of rocks, and on the
rocks a new city is builded wherein people dwell who know not old
Mlideen, and the gods are seated on Mowrah Nawut still. And in the new
city men worship carven gods, and the number of the gods that they have
carven is ninety and nine, and I, the prophet, have found a curious
stone and go to carve it into the likeness of a god for all Mlideen to
worship.
THE SECRET OF THE GODS
Zyni Moe, the small snake, saw the cool river gleaming before him afar
off and set out over the burning sand to reach it.
Uldoon, the prophet, came out of the desert and followed up the bank of
the river towards his old home. Thirty years since Uldoon had left the
city, where he was born, to live his life in a silent place where he
might search for the secret of the gods. The name of his home was the
City by the River, and in that city many prophets taught concerning
many gods, and men made many secrets for themselves, but all the while
none knew the Secret of the gods. Nor might any seek to find it, for if
any sought men said of him:
“This man sins, for he giveth no worship to the gods that speak to our
prophets by starlight when none heareth.”
And Uldoon perceived that the mind of a man is as a garden, and that
his thoughts are as the flowers, and the prophets of a man’s city are
as many gardeners who weed and trim, and who have made in the garden
paths both smooth and straight, and only along these paths is a man’s
soul permitted to go lest the gardeners say, “This soul transgresseth.”
And from the paths the gardeners weed out every flower that grows, and
in the garden they cut off all flowers that grow tall, saying:
“It is customary,” and “it is written,” and “this hath ever been,” or
“that hath not been before.”
Therefore Uldoon saw that not in that city might he discover the Secret
of the gods. And Uldoon said to the people:
“When the worlds began, the Secret of the gods lay written clear over
the whole earth, but the feet of many prophets have trampled it out.
Your prophets are all true men, but I go into the desert to find a
truth which is truer than your prophets.” Therefore Uldoon went into
the desert and in storm and still he sought for many years. When the
thunder roared over the mountains that limited the desert he sought the
Secret in the thunder, but the gods spake not by the thunder. When the
voices of the beasts disturbed the stillness under the stars he sought
the secret there, but the gods spake not by the beasts.
Uldoon grew old and all the voices of the desert had spoken to Uldoon,
but not the gods, when one night he heard Them whispering beyond the
hills. And the gods whispered one to another, and turning Their faces
earthward They all wept. And Uldoon though he saw not the gods yet saw
Their shadows turn as They went back to a great hollow in the hills;
and there, all standing in the valley’s mouth, They said:
“Oh, Morning Zai, oh, oldest of the gods, the faith of thee is gone,
and yesterday for the last time thy name was spoken upon earth.” And
turning earthward they all wept again. And the gods tore white clouds
out of the sky and draped them about the body of Morning Zai and bore
him forth from his valley behind the hills, and muffled the mountain
peaks with snow, and beat upon their summits with drum sticks carved of
ebony, playing the dirge of the gods. And the echoes rolled about the
passes and the winds howled, because the faith of the olden days was
gone, and with it had sped the soul of Morning Zai. So through the
mountain passes the gods came at night bearing Their dead father. And
Uldoon followed. And the gods came to a great sepulchre of onyx that
stood upon four fluted pillars of white marble, each carved out of four
mountains, and therein the gods laid Morning Zai because the old faith
was fallen. And there at the tomb of Their father the gods spake and
Uldoon heard the Secret of the gods, and it became to him a simple
thing such as a man might well guess—yet hath not. Then the soul of the
desert arose and cast over the tomb its wreath of forgetfulness devised
of drifting sand, and the gods strode home across the mountains to
Their hollow land. But Uldoon left the desert and travelled many days,
and so came to the river where it passes beyond the city to seek the
sea, and following its bank came near to his old home. And the people
of the City by the River, seeing him far off, cried out:
“Hast thou found the Secret of the gods?”
And he answered:
“I have found it, and the Secret of the gods is this”—:
Zyni Moe, the small snake, seeing the figure and the shadow of a man
between him and the cool river, raised his head and struck once. And
the gods are pleased with Zyni Moe, and have called him the protector
of the Secret of the gods.
[Illustration: The Tomb of Morning Zai.]
THE SOUTH WIND
Two players sat down to play a game together to while eternity away,
and they chose the gods as pieces wherewith to play their game, and for
their board of playing they chose the sky from rim to rim, whereon lay
a little dust; and every speck of dust was a world upon the board of
playing. And the players were robed and their faces veiled, and the
robes and veils were alike, and their names were Fate and Chance. And
as they played their game and moved the gods hither and thither about
the board, the dust arose, and shone in the light from the players’
eyes that gleamed behind the veils. Then said the gods: “See how We
stir the dust.”
It chanced, or was ordained (who knoweth which?) that Ord, a prophet,
one night saw the gods as They strode knee deep among the stars. But as
he gave Them worship, he saw the hand of a player, enormous over Their
heads, stretched out to make his move. Then Ord, the prophet, knew. Had
he been silent it might have still been well with Ord, but Ord went
about the world crying out to all men, “There is a power over the
gods.”
This the gods heard. Then said They, “Ord hath seen.”
Terrible is the vengeance of the gods, and fierce were Their eyes when
They looked on the head of Ord and snatched out of his mind all
knowledge of Themselves. And that man’s soul went wandering afield to
find for itself gods, for ever finding them not. Then out of Ord’s
Dream of Life the gods plucked the moon and the stars, and in the
night-time he only saw black sky and saw the lights no more. Next the
gods took from him, for Their vengeance resteth not, the birds and
butterflies, flowers and leaves and insects and all small things, and
the prophet looked on the world that was strangely altered, yet knew
not of the anger of the gods. Then the gods sent away his familiar
hills, to be seen no more by him, and all the pleasant woodlands on
their summits and the further fields; and in a narrower world Ord
walked round and round, now seeing little, and his soul still wandered
searching for some gods and finding none.
Lastly, the gods took away the fields and stream and left to the
prophet only his house and the larger things that were in it. Day by
day They crept about him drawing films of mist between him and familiar
things, till at last he beheld nought at all and was quite blind and
unaware of the anger of the gods. Then Ord’s world became only a world
of sound, and only by hearing he kept his hold upon Things. All the
profit that he had out of his days was here some song from the hills or
there the voice of the birds, and sound of the stream, or the drip of
the falling rain. But the anger of the gods ceases not with the closing
of flowers, nor is it assuaged by all the winter’s snows, nor doth it
rest in the full glare of summer, and They snatched away from Ord one
night his world of sound and he awoke deaf. But as a man may smite away
the hive of the bee, and the bee with all his fellows builds again,
knowing not what hath smitten his hive or that it shall smite again, so
Ord built for himself a world out of old memories and set it in the
past. There he builded himself cities out of former joys, and therein
built palaces of mighty things achieved, and with his memory as a key
he opened golden locks and had still a world to live in, though the
gods had taken from him the world of sound and all the world of sight.
But the gods tire not from pursuing, and They seized his world of
former things and took his memory away and covered up the paths that
led into the past, and left him blind and deaf and forgetful among men,
and caused all men to know that this was he who once had said that the
gods were little things.
And lastly the gods took his soul, and out of it They fashioned the
South Wind to roam the seas for ever and not have rest; and well the
South Wind knows that he hath once understood somewhere and long ago,
and so he moans to the islands and cries along southern shores, “I have
known,” and “I have known.”
But all things sleep when the South Wind speaks to them and none heed
his cry that he hath known, but are rather content to sleep. But still
the South Wind, knowing that there is something that he hath forgot,
goes on crying, “I have known,” seeking to urge men to arise and to
discover it. But none heed the sorrows of the South Wind even when he
driveth his tears out of the South, so that though the South Wind cries
on and on and never findeth rest none heed that there is aught that may
be known, and the Secret of the gods is safe. But the business of the
South Wind is with the North, and it is said that the time will one day
come when he shall overcome the bergs and sink the seas of ice and come
where the Secret of the gods is graven upon the pole. And the game of
Fate and Chance shall suddenly cease and He that loses shall cease to
be or ever to have been, and from the board of playing Fate or Chance
(who knoweth which shall win?) shall sweep the gods away.
IN THE LAND OF TIME
Thus Karnith, King of Alatta, spake to his eldest son: “I bequeath to
thee my city of Zoon, with its golden eaves, whereunder hum the bees.
And I bequeath to thee also the land of Alatta, and all such other
lands as thou art worthy to possess, for my three strong armies which I
leave thee may well take Zindara and over-run Istahn, and drive back
Onin from his frontier, and leaguer the walls of Yan, and beyond that
spread conquest over the lesser lands of Hebith, Ebnon, and Karida.
Only lead not thine armies against Zeenar, nor ever cross the Eidis.”
Thereat in the city of Zoon in the land of Alatta, under his golden
eaves, died King Karnith, and his soul went whither had gone the souls
of his sires the elder Kings, and the souls of their slaves.
Then Karnith Zo, the new King, took the iron crown of Alatta and
afterwards went down to the plains that encircle Zoon and found his
three strong armies clamouring to be led against Zeenar, over the river
Eidis.
But the new King came back from his armies, and all one night in the
great palace alone with his iron crown, pondered long upon war; and a
little before dawn he saw dimly through his palace window, facing east
over the city of Zoon and across the fields of Alatta, to far off where
a valley opened on Istahn. There, as he pondered, he saw the smoke
arising tall and straight over small houses in the plain and the fields
where the sheep fed. Later the sun rose shining over Alatta as it shone
over Istahn, and there arose a stir about the houses both in Alatta and
Istahn, and cocks crowed in the city and men went out into the fields
among the bleating sheep; and the King wondered if men did otherwise in
Istahn. And men and women met as they went out to work and the sound of
laughter arose from streets and fields; the King’s eyes gazed into the
distance toward Istahn and still the smoke went upward tall and
straight from the small houses. And the sun rose higher that shone upon
Alatta and Istahn, causing the flowers to open wide in each, and the
birds to sing and the voices of men and women to arise. And in the
market place of Zoon caravans were astir that set out to carry
merchandise to Istahn, and afterwards passed camels coming to Alatta
with many tinkling bells. All this the King saw as he pondered much,
who had not pondered before. Westward the Agnid mountains frowned in
the distance guarding the river Eidis; behind them the fierce people of
Zeenar lived in a bleak land.
Later the King, going abroad through his new kingdom, came on the
Temple of the gods of Old. There he found the roof shattered and the
marble columns broken and tall weeds met together in the inner shrine,
and the gods of Old, bereft of worship or sacrifice, neglected and
forgotten. And the King asked of his councillors who it was that had
overturned this temple of the gods or caused the gods Themselves to be
thus forsaken. And they answered him:
“Time has done this.”
Next the King came upon a man bent and crippled, whose face was
furrowed and worn, and the King having seen no such sight within the
court of his father said to the man:
“Who hath done this thing to you?”
And the old man answered:
“Time hath ruthlessly done it.”
But the King and his councillors went on, and next they came upon a
body of men carrying among them a hearse. And the King asked his
councillors closely concerning death, for these things had not before
been expounded to the King. And the oldest of the councillors answered:
“Death, O King, is a gift sent by the gods by the hand of their servant
Time, and some receive it gladly, and some are forced reluctantly to
take it, and before others it is suddenly flung in the middle of the
day. And with this gift that Time hath brought him from the gods a man
must go forth into the dark to possess no other thing for so long as
the gods are willing.”
But the King went back to his palace and gathered the greatest of his
prophets and his councillors and asked them more particularly
concerning Time. And they told the King how that Time was a great
figure standing like a tall shadow in the dusk or striding, unseen,
across the world, and how that he was the slave of the gods and did
Their bidding, but ever chose new masters, and how all the former
masters of Time were dead and Their shrines forgotten. And one said:
“I have seen him once when I went down to play again in the garden of
my childhood because of certain memories. And it was towards evening
and the light was pale, and I saw Time standing over the little gate,
pale like the light, and he stood between me and that garden and had
stolen my memories because he was mightier than I.”
And another said:
“I, too, have seen the Enemy of my House. For I saw him when he strode
over the fields that I knew well and led a stranger by the hand to
place him in my home to sit where my forefathers sat. And I saw him
afterwards walk thrice round the house and stoop and gather up the
glamour from the lawns and brush aside the tall poppies in the garden
and spread weeds in his pathway where he strode through the remembered
nooks.”
And another said:
“He went one day into the desert and brought up life out of the waste
places, and made it cry bitterly and covered it with the desert again.”
And another said:
“I too saw him once seated in the garden of a child tearing the
flowers, and afterwards he went away through many woodlands and stooped
down as he went, and picked the leaves one by one from the trees.”
And another said:
“I saw him once by moonlight standing tall and black amidst the ruins
of a shrine in the old kingdom of Amarna, doing a deed by night. And he
wore a look on his face such as murderers wear as he busied himself to
cover over something with weeds and dust. Thereafter in Amarna the
people of that old Kingdom missed their god, in whose shrine I saw Time
crouching in the night, and they have not since beheld him.”
And all the while from the distance at the city’s edge rose a hum from
the three armies of the King clamouring to be led against Zeenar.
Thereat the King went down to his three armies and speaking to their
chiefs said:
“I will not go down clad with murder to be King over other lands. I
have seen the same morning arising on Istahn that also gladdened
Alatta, and have heard Peace lowing among the flowers. I will not
desolate homes to rule over an orphaned land and a land widowed. But I
will lead you against the pledged enemy of Alatta who shall crumble the
towers of Zoon and hath gone far to overthrow our gods. He is the foe
of Zindara and Istahn and many-citadeled Yan, Hebith and Ebnon may not
overcome him nor Karida be safe against him among her bleakest
mountains. He is a foe mightier than Zeenar with frontiers stronger
than Eidis; he leers at all the peoples of the earth and mocks their
gods and covets their builded cities. Therefore we will go forth and
conquer Time and save the gods of Alatta from his clutch, and coming
back victorious shall find that Death is gone and age and illness
departed, and here we shall live for ever by the golden eaves of Zoon,
while the bees hum among unrusted gables and never crumbling towers.
There shall be neither fading nor forgetting, nor ever dying nor
sorrow, when we shall have freed the people and pleasant fields of the
earth from inexorable Time.”
And the armies swore that they would follow the King to save the world
and the gods.
So the next day the King set forth with his three armies and crossed
many rivers and marched through many lands, and wherever they went they
asked for news of Time.
And the first day they met a woman with her face furrowed and lined,
who told them that she had been beautiful and that Time had smitten her
in the face with his five claws.
Many an old man they met as they marched in search of Time. All had
seen him but none could tell them more, except that some said he went
that way and pointed to a ruined tower or to an old and broken tree.
And day after day and month by month the King pushed on with his
armies, hoping to come at last on Time. Sometimes they encamped at
night near palaces of beautiful design or beside gardens of flowers,
hoping to find their enemy when he came to desecrate in the dark.
Sometimes they came on cobwebs, sometimes on rusted chains and houses
with broken roofs or crumbling walls. Then the armies would push on
apace thinking that they were closer upon the track of Time.
As the weeks passed by and weeks grew to months, and always they heard
reports and rumours of Time, but never found him, the armies grew weary
of the great march, but the King pushed on and would let none turn
back, saying always that the enemy was near at hand.
Month in, month out, the King led on his now unwilling armies, till at
last they had marched for close upon a year and came to the village of
Astarma very far to the north. There many of the King’s weary soldiers
deserted from his armies and settled down in Astarma and married
Astarmian girls. By these soldiers we have the march of the armies
clearly chronicled to the time when they came to Astarma, having been
nigh a year upon the march. And the army left that village and the
children cheered them as they went up the street, and five miles
distant they passed over a ridge of hills and out of sight. Beyond this
less is known, but the rest of this chronicle is gathered from the
tales that the veterans of the King’s armies used to tell in the
evenings about the fires in Zoon and remembered afterwards by the men
of Zeenar.
It is mostly credited in these days that such of the King’s armies as
went on past Astarma came at last (it is not known after how long a
time) over a crest of a slope where the whole earth slanted green to
the north. Below it lay green fields and beyond them moaned the sea
with never shore nor island so far as the eye could reach. Among the
green fields lay a village, and on this village the eyes of the King
and his armies were turned as they came down the slope. It lay beneath
them, grave with seared antiquity, with old-world gables stained and
bent by the lapse of frequent years, with all its chimneys awry. Its
roofs were tiled with antique stones covered over deep with moss, each
little window looked with a myriad strange cut panes on the gardens
shaped with quaint devices and overrun with weeds. On rusted hinges the
doors swung to and fro and were fashioned of planks of immemorial oak
with black knots gaping from their sockets. Against it all there beat
the thistle-down, about it clambered the ivy or swayed the weeds; tall
and straight out of the twisted chimneys arose blue columns of smoke,
and blades of grass peeped upward between the huge cobbles of the
unmolested street. Between the gardens and the cobbled streets stood
hedges higher than a horseman might look, of stalwart thorn, and upward
through it clambered the convolvulus to peer into the garden from the
top. Before each house there was cut a gap in the hedge, and in it
swung a wicket gate of timber soft with the rain and years, and green
like the moss. Over all of it there brooded age and the full hush of
things bygone and forgotten. Upon this derelict that the years had cast
up out of antiquity the King and his armies gazed long. Then on the
hill slope the King made his armies halt, and went down alone with one
of his chiefs into the village.
Presently there was a stir in one of the houses, and a bat flew out of
the door into the daylight, and three mice came running out of the
doorway down the step, an old stone cracked in two and held together by
moss; and there followed an old man bending on a stick with a white
beard coming to the ground, wearing clothes that were glossed with use,
and presently there came others out of the other houses, all of them as
old, and all hobbling on sticks. These were the oldest people that the
King had ever beheld, and he asked them the name of the village and who
they were; and one of them answered, “This is the City of the Aged in
the Territory of Time.”
And the King said, “Is Time then here?”
And one of the old men pointed to a great castle standing on a steep
hill and said: “Therein dwells Time, and we are his people;” and they
all looked curiously at King Karnith Zo, and the eldest of the
villagers spoke again and said: “Whence do you come, you that are so
young?” and Karnith Zo told him how he had come to conquer Time to save
the world and the gods, and asked them whence they came.
And the villagers said:
“We are older than always, and know not whence we came, but we are the
people of Time, and here from the Edge of Everything he sends out his
hours to assail the world, and you may never conquer Time.” But the
King went back to his armies, and pointed towards the castle on the
hill and told them that at last they had found the Enemy of the Earth;
and they that were older than always went back slowly into their houses
with the creaking of olden doors. And there they went across the fields
and passed the village. From one of his towers Time eyed them all the
while, and in battle order they closed in on the steep hill as Time sat
still in his great tower and watched.
But as the feet of the foremost touched the edge of the hill Time
hurled five years against them, and the years passed over their heads
and the army still came on, an army of older men. But the slope seemed
steeper to the King and to every man in his army, and they breathed
more heavily. And Time summoned up more years, and one by one he hurled
them at Karnith Zo and at all his men. And the knees of the army
stiffened, and their beards grew and turned grey, and the hours and
days and the months went singing over their heads, and their hair
turned whiter and whiter, and the conquering hours bore down, and the
years rushed on and swept the youth of that army clear away till they
came face to face under the walls of the castle of Time with a mass of
howling years, and found the top of the slope too steep for aged men.
Slowly and painfully, harassed with agues and chills, the King rallied
his aged army that tottered down the slope.
Slowly the King led back his warriors over whose heads had shrieked the
triumphant years. Year in, year out, they straggled southwards, always
towards Zoon; they came, with rust upon their spears and long beards
flowing, again into Astarma, and none knew them there. They passed
again by towns and villages where once they had inquired curiously
concerning Time, and none knew them there either. They came again to
the palaces and gardens where they had waited for Time in the night,
and found that Time had been there. And all the while they set a hope
before them that they should come on Zoon again and see its golden
eaves. And no one knew that unperceived behind them there lurked and
followed the gaunt figure of Time cutting off stragglers one by one and
overwhelming them with his hours, only men were missed from the army
every day, and fewer and fewer grew the veterans of Karnith Zo.
But at last after many a month, one night as they marched in the dusk
before the morning, dawn suddenly ascending shone on the eaves of Zoon,
and a great cry ran through the army:
“Alatta, Alatta!”
But drawing nearer they found that the gates were rusted and weeds grew
tall along the outer walls, many a roof had fallen, gables were
blackened and bent, and the golden eaves shone not as heretofore. And
the soldiers entering the city expecting to find their sisters and
sweethearts of a few years ago saw only old women wrinkled with great
age and knew not who they were.
Suddenly someone said:
“He has been here too.”
And then they knew that while they searched for Time, Time had gone
forth against their city and leaguered it with the years, and had taken
it while they were far away and enslaved their women and children with
the yoke of age. So all that remained of the three armies of Karnith Zo
settled in the conquered city. And presently the men of Zeenar crossed
over the river Eidis and easily conquering an army of aged men took all
Alatta for themselves, and their kings reigned thereafter in the city
of Zoon. And sometimes the men of Zeenar listened to the strange tales
that the old Alattans told of the years when they made battle against
Time. Such of these tales as the men of Zeenar remembered they
afterwards set forth, and this is all that may be told of those
adventurous armies that went to war with Time to save the world and the
gods, and were overwhelmed by the hours and the years.
THE RELENTING OF SARNIDAC
The lame boy Sarnidac tended sheep on a hill to the southward of the
city. Sarnidac was a dwarf and greatly derided in the city. For the
women said:
“It is very funny that Sarnidac is a dwarf,” and they would point their
fingers at him saying:—“This is Sarnidac, he is a dwarf; also he is
very lame.”
Once the doors of all the temples in the world swung open to the
morning, and Sarnidac with his sheep upon the hill saw strange figures
going down the white road, always southwards. All the morning he saw
the dust rising above the strange figures and always they went
southwards right as far as the rim of the Nydoon hills where the white
road could be seen no more. And the figures stooped and seemed to be
larger than men, but all men seemed very large to Sarnidac, and he
could not see clearly through the dust. And Sarnidac shouted to them,
as he hailed all people that passed down the long white road, and none
of the figures looked to left or right and none of them turned to
answer Sarnidac. But then few people ever answered him because he was
lame, and a small dwarf.
Still the figures went striding swiftly, stooping forward through the
dust, till at last Sarnidac came running down his hill to watch them
closer. As he came to the white road the last of the figures passed
him, and Sarnidac ran limping behind him down the road.
For Sarnidac was weary of the city wherein all derided him, and when he
saw these figures all hurrying away he thought that they went perhaps
to some other city beyond the hills over which the sun shone brighter,
or where there was more food, for he was poor, even perhaps where
people had not the custom of laughing at Sarnidac. So this procession
of figures that stooped and seemed larger than men went southward down
the road and a lame dwarf hobbled behind them.
Khamazan, now called the City of the Last of Temples, lies southward of
the Nydoon hills. This is the story of Pompeides, now chief prophet of
the only temple in the world, and greatest of all the prophets that
have been:
On the slopes of Nydoon I was seated once above Khamazan. There I saw
figures in the morning striding through much dust along the road that
leads across the world. Striding up the hill they came towards me, not
with the gait of men, and soon the first one came to the crest of the
hill where the road dips to find the plains again, where lies Khamazan.
And now I swear by all the gods that are gone that this thing happened
as I shall say it, and was surely so. When those that came striding up
the hill came to its summit they took not the road that goes down into
the plains nor trod the dust any longer, but went straight on and
upwards, striding as they strode before, as though the hill had not
ended nor the road dipped. And they strode as though they trod no
yielding substance, yet they stepped upwards through the air.
This the gods did, for They were not born men who strode that day so
strangely away from earth.
But I, when I saw this thing, when already three had passed me, leaving
earth, cried out before the fourth:
‘Gods of my childhood, guardians of little homes, whither are ye going,
leaving the round earth to swim alone and forgotten in so great a waste
of sky?’
And one answered:
‘Heresy apace shoots her fierce glare over the world and men’s faith
grows dim and the gods go. Men shall make iron gods and gods of steel
when the wind and the ivy meet within the shrines of the temples of the
gods of old.’
And I left that place as a man leaves fire by night, and going
plainwards down the white road that the gods spurned cried out to all
that I passed to follow me, and so crying came to the city’s gates. And
there I shouted to all near the gates:
‘From yonder hilltop the gods are leaving earth.’
Then I gathered many, and we all hastened to the hill to pray the gods
to tarry, and there we cried out to the last of the departing gods:
‘Gods of old prophecy and of men’s hopes, leave not the earth, and all
our worship shall hum about Your ears as never it hath before, and oft
the sacrifice shall squeal upon Your altars.’
And I said:—
‘Gods of still evenings and quiet nights, go not from earth and leave
not Your carven shrines, and all men shall worship You still. For
between us and yonder still blue spaces oft roam the thunder and the
storms, there in his hiding lurks the dark eclipse, and there are
stored all snows and hails and lightnings that shall vex the earth for
a million years. Gods of our hopes, how shall men’s prayers crying from
empty shrines pass through such terrible spaces; how shall they ever
fare above the thunder and many storms to whatever place the gods may
go in that blue waste beyond?’
But the gods bent straight forward, and trampled through the sky and
looked not to the right nor left nor downwards, nor ever heeded my
prayer.
And one cried out hoping yet to stay the gods, though nearly all were
gone, saying:—
‘O gods, rob not the earth of the dim hush that hangs round all Your
temples, bereave not all the world of old romance, take not the glamour
from the moonlight nor tear the wonder out of the white mists in every
land; for, O ye gods of the childhood of the world, when You have left
the earth you shall have taken the mystery from the sea and all its
glory from antiquity, and You shall have wrenched out hope from the dim
future. There shall be no strange cries at night time half understood,
nor songs in the twilight, and the whole of the wonder shall have died
with last year’s flowers in little gardens or hill-slopes leaning
south; for with the gods must go the enchantment of the plains and all
the magic of dark woods, and something shall be lacking from the quiet
of early dawn. For it would scarce befit the gods to leave the earth
and not take with Them that which They had given it. Out beyond the
still blue spaces Ye will need the holiness of sunset for Yourselves
and little sacred memories and the thrill that is in stories told by
firesides long ago. One strain of music, one song, one line of poetry
and one kiss, and a memory of one pool with rushes, and each one the
best, shall the gods take to whom the best belongs, when the gods go.
‘Sing a lamentation, people of Khamazan, sing a lamentation for all the
children of earth at the feet of the departing gods. Sing a lamentation
for the children of earth who now must carry their prayers to empty
shrines and around empty shrines must rest at last.’
Then when our prayers were ended and our tears shed, we beheld the last
and smallest of the gods halted upon the hilltop. Twice he called to
Them with a cry somewhat like the cry wherewith our shepherds hail
their brethren, and long gazed after Them, and then deigned to look no
longer and to tarry upon earth and turn his eyes on men. Then a great
shout went up when we saw that our hopes were saved and that there was
still on earth a haven for our prayers. Smaller than men now seemed the
figures that had loomed so big, as one behind the other far over our
heads They still strode upwards. But the small god that had pitied the
world came with us down the hill, still deigning to tread the road,
though strangely, not as men tread, and into Khamazan. There we housed
him in the palace of the King, for that was before the building of the
temple of gold, and the King made sacrifice before him with his own
hands, and he that had pitied the world did eat the flesh of the
sacrifice.
And the Book of the Knowledge of the gods in Khamazan tells how the
small god that pitied the world told his prophets that his name was
Sarnidac and that he herded sheep, and that therefore he is called the
shepherd god, and sheep are sacrificed upon his altars thrice a day,
and the North, East, West and the South are the four hurdles of
Sarnidac and the white clouds are his sheep. And the Book of the
Knowledge of the gods tells further how the day on which Pompeides
found the gods shall be kept for ever as a fast until the evening and
called the Fast of the Departing, but in the evening shall a feast be
held which is named the Feast of the Relenting, for on that evening
Sarnidac pitied the whole world and tarried.
And the people of Khamazan all prayed to Sarnidac, and dreamed their
dreams and hoped their hopes because their temple was not empty.
Whether the gods that are departed be greater than Sarnidac none know
in Khamazan, but some believe that in their azure windows They have set
lights that lost prayers swarming upwards may come to them like moths
and at last find haven and light far up above the evening and the
stillness where sit the gods.
But Sarnidac wondered at the strange figures, at the people of
Khamazan, and at the palace of the King and the customs of the
prophets, but wondered not more greatly at aught in Khamazan than he
had wondered at the city which he had left. For Sarnidac, who had not
known why men were unkind to him, thought that he had found at last the
land for which the gods had let him hope, where men should have the
custom of being kind to Sarnidac.
THE JEST OF THE GODS
Once the Older gods had need of laughter. Therefore They made the soul
of a king, and set in it ambitions greater than kings should have, and
lust for territories beyond the lust of other kings, and in this soul
They set strength beyond the strength of others and fierce desire for
power and a strong pride. Then the gods pointed earthward and sent that
soul into the fields of men to live in the body of a slave. And the
slave grew, and the pride and lust for power began to arise in his
heart, and he wore shackles on his arms. Then in the Fields of Twilight
the gods prepared to laugh.
But the slave went down to the shore of the great sea, and cast his
body away and the shackles that were upon it, and strode back to the
Fields of Twilight and stood up before the gods and looked Them in
Their faces. This thing the gods, when They had prepared to laugh, had
not foreseen. Lust for power burned strong in that King’s soul, and
there was all the strength and pride in it that the gods had placed
therein, and he was too strong for the Older gods. He whose body had
borne the lashes of men could brook no longer the dominion of the gods,
and standing before Them he bade the gods to go. Up to Their lips leapt
all the anger of the Older gods, being for the first time commanded,
but the King’s soul faced Them still, and Their anger died away and
They averted Their eyes. Then Their thrones became empty, and the
Fields of Twilight bare as the gods slunk far away. But the soul chose
new companions.
THE DREAMS OF THE PROPHET
I
When the gods drave me forth to toil and assailed me with thirst and
beat me down with hunger, then I prayed to the gods. When the gods
smote the cities wherein I dwelt, and when Their anger scorched me and
Their eyes burned, then did I praise the gods and offer sacrifice. But
when I came again to my green land and found that all was gone, and the
old mysterious haunts wherein I prayed as a child were gone, and when
the gods tore up the dust and even the spider’s web from the last
remembered nook, then did I curse the gods, speaking it to Their faces,
saying:—
“Gods of my prayers! Gods of my sacrifice! because Ye have forgotten
the sacred places of my childhood, and they have therefore ceased to
be, yet may I not forget. Because Ye have done this thing, Ye shall see
cold altars and shall lack both my fear and praise. I shall not wince
at Your lightnings, nor be awed when Ye go by.”
Then looking seawards I stood and cursed the gods, and at this moment
there came to me one in the garb of a poet, who said:—
“Curse not the gods.”
And I said to him:
“Wherefore should I not curse Those that have stolen my sacred places
in the night, and trodden down the gardens of my childhood?”
And he said “Come, and I will show thee.” And I followed him to where
two camels stood with their faces towards the desert. And we set out
and I travelled with him for a great space, he speaking never a word,
and so we came at last to a waste valley hid in the desert’s midst. And
herein, like fallen moons, I saw vast ribs that stood up white out of
the sand, higher than the hills of the desert. And here and there lay
the enormous shapes of skulls like the white marble domes of palaces
built for tyrannous kings a long while since by armies of driven
slaves. Also there lay in the desert other bones, the bones of vast
legs and arms, against which the desert, like a besieging sea, ever
advanced and already had half drowned. And as I gazed in wonder at
these colossal things the poet said to me:
“The gods are dead.”
And I gazed long in silence, and I said:
“These fingers, that are now so dead and so very white and still, tore
once the flowers in gardens of my youth.”
But my companion said to me:
“I have brought thee here to ask of thee thy forgiveness of the gods,
for I, being a poet, knew the gods, and would fain drive off the curses
that hover above Their bones and bring Them men’s forgiveness as an
offering at the last, that the weeds and the ivy may cover Their bones
from the sun.”
And I said:
“They made Remorse with his fur grey like a rainy evening in the
autumn, with many rending claws, and Pain with his hot hands and
lingering feet, and Fear like a rat with two cold teeth carved each out
of the ice of either pole, and Anger with the swift flight of the
dragonfly in summer having burning eyes. I will not forgive these
gods.”
But the poet said:
“Canst thou be angry with these beautiful white bones?” And I looked
long at those curved and beautiful bones that were no longer able to
hurt the smallest creature in all the worlds that they had made. And I
thought long of the evil that they had done, and also of the good. But
when I thought of Their great hands coming red and wet from battles to
make a primrose for a child to pick, then I forgave the gods.
And a gentle rain came falling out of heaven and stilled the restless
sand, and a soft green moss grew suddenly and covered the bones till
they looked like strange green hills, and I heard a cry and awoke and
found that I had dreamed, and looking out of my house into the street I
found that a flash of lightning had killed a child. Then I knew that
the gods still lived.
II
I lay asleep in the poppy fields of the gods in the valley of Alderon,
where the gods come by night to meet together in council when the moon
is low. And I dreamed that this was the Secret.
Fate and Chance had played their game and ended, and all was over, all
the hopes and tears, regrets, desires and sorrows, things that men wept
for and unremembered things, and kingdoms and little gardens and the
sea, and the worlds and the moons and the suns; and what remained was
nothing, having neither colour nor sound.
Then said Fate to Chance: “Let us play our old game again.” And they
played it again together, using the gods as pieces, as they had played
it oft before. So that those things which have been shall all be again,
and under the same bank in the same land a sudden glare of sunlight on
the same spring day shall bring the same daffodil to bloom once more
and the same child shall pick it, and not regretted shall be the
billion years that fell between. And the same old faces shall be seen
again, yet not bereaved of their familiar haunts. And you and I shall
in a garden meet again upon an afternoon in summer when the sun stands
midway between his zenith and the sea, where we met oft before. For
Fate and Chance play but one game together with every move the same,
and they play it oft to while eternity away.