The Doom of the Fire
We stood in the third cave that was carpeted with white sand and
alive with rosy light. Making a dark stain upon that snowy sand was a
black patch of dust. I knew it again; when last I had seen it, it bore
the withered shape of one long dead. The rolling many-coloured fire
approached from afar; its muttering grew to a roar, its roar grew to
such a thunder as shakes the mountain peaks and splits the walls of
citadels. It appeared, blazing with a thousand lights; for a while it
hovered, twisting like a spun top. Then it departed upon its eternal
round in the unknown entrails of the earth, and the tumult sank to
silence.
Kallikrates, terrified, flung himself upon his face; even the proud
Amenartas fell to her knees, covering her eyes with her hands: only I
stood erect and laughed, I who knew that I was betrothed to that fire
and that it ill became the bride-to-be to shrink from her promised
lord.
Kallikrates rose, asking,
"Where is the treasure which you seek, Prophetess? If it be hidden
here, in this awful house of a living god, look on it swiftly, and let
us begone. I, a mortal man, am terrified."
"As well you may be," broke in Amenartas, "since such wizardries as
these have not been told of in the earth. I say it, who know something
of wizardries, and like my father have stood face to face with spirits
summoned from the Under-world, giving them word for word of power."
"My treasure lies in the red heart of yonder raging flame, and
presently I go to pluck it thence," I answered in a quiet voice.
"Whether I shall return I do not know. Perchance I shall abide in the
fire and be borne away upon its wings. Stay if you will, or if you
will, while there is yet time, depart, but trouble me no more with
words, who must steel my soul to its last trial."
They stared at me, both of them, and remained silent.
For a space I stood still pondering. It seemed to me that I was the
plaything of two great Strengths that dragged me forward, that dragged
me back. The spirit of the Fire cried,
"Come, O Divine! Come, be made perfect, and queen it in this red heart
of mine. Come, drink of that full cup of mysteries which no mortal
lips have drained. Come, see those things that are hidden from mortal
eyes. Come, taste of joys wherewith no mortal heart has ever throbbed.
Haste, haste to the fiery bridal and in the glory of my kiss learn
what delight can be. Oh! doubt no more but take Faith by the hand and
let her lead thee home. Doubt no more! Be brave, lay down mortality:
put on the spirit and as a spirit sit enthroned beyond the touch of
time and with immortal eyes, robed in eternal majesty, watch the
generations pass, marching with sad feet from darkness into darkness.
Behold there he stands who is appointed to thee, who was thine from
the beginning, who shall be thine until the end of ends. Thy new-born
loveliness shall chain him fast and he shall grow drunken in the
breath of thy perfumed sighs who for ever and for ever and for ever
shall be thy very own, turning the winter of thy widowed heart to
summer of perpetual joy."
Thus spake the spirit of the Flame, but to it there answered another
spirit that wore the shape of Noot, yea, of Noot grown stern and
terrible.
"Turn back, O Wisdom's Daughter, ere thou art wrapped in the robe of
madness and repentance comes too late," it seemed to say. "Always the
tempter tempts and when bribe after bribe is scorned, at last he pours
his richest jewels at the feet of her whom he would win. Woe, woe to
her who, charmed of their false glitter, clasps them upon brow and
breast, for there they shall change to scorpions and through the
living flesh gnaw to the brain and heart within. Departing, have I not
set thee to watch the Fire and wilt thou steal the Fire, therewith to
make thyself a god? Do so and this I swear to thee: that the godhead
which thou shalt put on will be that of hell. Thy love shall be
snatched away; undying, through all the earth, through all the stars,
thou shalt follow after him and never find, or, if thou findest, it
will be but to lose again. Dost thou dare to wrest thy destiny out of
the hand of Fate and fashion it to thy desire with the instrument of
thy blind and petty will? Do so, and dæmons shall possess it that
from age to age shall drive thee on, torn by the furies of remorse,
choked with bitter, unavailing tears, frozen by the icy blasts of
sorrow; desolate, alone, unfriended, till at last thou standest before
the Judgment-seat hearkening with bowed head to a doom that can never
be undone. Daughter of Wisdom, art thou sunk so low that thou wilt
forget thine oaths and break thy trust to rob another woman of her
lover?"
Those visions passed and I grasped denial's robes. I would not do this
thing. I would live out my life upon the earth, I would die--oh! might
it be soon--to pass to whatever place had been prepared for me, or to
sink into the deep abysm of that rich and boundless sleep which no
dreams haunt.
Aye! renouncing joy and renounced of hope, already I turned to go and
climb my upward path back to the bitter world.
Then, from far, far away came the faint music of the chant of the
advancing god of Fire. Low and sweet it sang at first, soft as a
mother's lullaby, and lo! I dreamed of happy childhood's day. It
swelled and grew and now I had entered into womanhood and strange,
uncomprehended longings companioned me. It took a fiercer note and I
bethought me of the beating of the hoofs of horses as, mounted on my
crested stallion, I rushed across the desert like the wind. Louder
yet, and behold! once more I was in the battle at my father's side;
behind me the wild tribesmen surged and shouted; in front of me my
foes were beaten down to death. Ah! bright flashed my javelin, ah!
free flowed my hair among the flapping pennons. "The Daughter of
Yarab! Follow the daughter of Yarab!" cried the thousands of my kin,
and on we went, like sun-loosed snows down mountains, on upon the
marshalled host beneath. We broke them, for who could stand before the
Daughter of Yarab and her kin? We trampled them, Egyptian and Syrian
and Mede and the men from Chittim's Isle; down they went before that
wild charge, and see! my bright spear was red.
Deeper yet and more solemn grew that mighty music. Now I was alone in
the wilderness beneath the stars, and from the stars knowledge and
beauty fell upon my heart like dew. Now I was a ruler of men, and
kings who would be my lovers bent at my feet and were the puppets of
my hands. I cast them down and broke them; I saw Sidon go up in flames
and filled my soul with vengeance. Hark! It is the footstep of the
goddess, the Queen of Heaven sets her kiss upon my brow; she names me
Daughter, her Appointed. Knowledge is mine, out of my lips flow
prophecies, a spirit guides my feet. I, I hold my own against the
Persian, when all else have fled I cast him from his throne. I give
his pomp to the tongues of Fire. Oh! how they cry, those mockers of
Egypt's gods, as I watch them scorch and perish.
I am lonely. Where is my love? I wend toward the grave and none are
born of me. I seek my love. "There stands thy love--not far away, but
at thy side. Take him, take him, take him!" Thus said the Fire.
Now its voice is the voice of trumpets that blare and echo around the
hills. They call, those trumpets call: "Where is the captain of our
hosts? Where is our Queen? Come forth, O Queen, crowned with wisdom,
diademed with power, holding in thine hand the gift of days. No longer
would we be left leaderless, we who would march to victory and hold
the world in thrall."
The King of Fire is at hand. He opens the gateways of the dark. Behind
him march the legions: he comes with splendour, he comes with glory,
he comes to take his bride. "Unrobe, unrobe! Prepare thyself, O Bride!
The King of Fire calls!"
I unloosed my garments, I unbound my hair that covered me like to a
sable robe.
"Art mad?" cried the Greek, Kallikrates, wringing his hands.
"Art mad?" echoed the royal Amenartas with a slow smile as she waited
to see mine end.
"Nay, I am wise," I answered back, "I who weary of tame days and
common things, I who seek death or triumph."
I ran. I stood in the pathway of the Fire. It saw; it stretched out
its arms to me. Lo! it wrapped me round and in my ears I heard the
shoutings of the stars.
Oh! what was this? I did not burn. The blood of the gods flowed
through my veins. The soul within me became as a lighted torch. The
Fire possessed me, I was the Fire's and in a dread communion the Fire
was mine. By that lit torch of my heart I saw many visions; veils
rolled up before my eyes revealing glory after glory, glories that
cannot be told. Death shrank away from before my feet; pale and
ashamed he shrank away. Pain departed, weakness was done. I stood the
Queen of all things human.
Lo! mirrored in that Fire as in water I saw myself, a shape of
loveliness celestial. Could this form be the form of woman? Could
those orbs divine be a woman's eyes?
Then a great silence and in the silence a silvery tinkling sound that
I knew well--the sound of the laughter of Aphrodite!
The pillar of flame had rolled away, its thousand blinding lights had
ceased to shine, and there I stood triumphant, conquering, never to be
conquered. I came forth speaking with a voice of music, knowing that I
had inherited another soul. What now to me was Isis or any other
goddess, to me who stood victorious, the equal of them all? Oh! I saw
now that Isis was but Nature and henceforth Nature was my slave. I
thought no more of sin or of repentance, I who from this day forth
would fashion my own laws and be to myself a judge. That which I
desired, that I would take. That which was hateful to me that would I
cast away. Yea! I was Nature's very self. I felt all her springs
stirring in my blood; it glowed with the heats of all her summers. I
was kind with the kindness of her fruitful autumns; I was terrible
with her winter wrath.
Look! There stood the man whom I desired. Somewhat coarse and poor he
seemed to me; I smelt death upon him. To be my mate he must be my
equal; he too must taste of the Fire; then we would talk of love. As
he was, my love was not for him, nay, it would destroy him as the
lightning blasts.
"Look on me, Kallikrates," I cried, "and tell me, in all your days
have you seen aught so fair?"
"Fair, yes, fair!" he gasped, "but terrible in beauty. No woman, no
woman! A very spirit. Oh! let me shut mine eyes. Let me flee!"
"Be still and wait," I answered, "for soon I shall show you how they
may be opened. Look on me, Daughter of Pharaoh, and tell me, has that
stamp of age of which you spoke to me not long ago departed from my
face and form, or is it yet apparent?"
"I look," she answered, still bold, "and I see before me no child of
man, but a very witch. Away from us, accursed witch! Clothe yourself,
shameless one, and begone, or let us begone, leaving you to commune
with your witch's fire."
I cast my robes around me and oh! they hung royally. Then once more I
turned to Kallikrates, considering him. As I looked I became aware
that a great change had fallen upon me. I was no longer the Ayesha of
old days. That Ayesha had been spirit-driven; her soul had aspired to
the heavens; it glistened with the dews of purity. True, I had loved
this man, little at the first, and more a hundred times after Noot had
suffered me to look upon the Fire, since with the sight and the sound
and the odours of it the great change began.
That Ayesha was one who dreamed of heavenly things; one with whom
prayer was a constant habit of the mind; yes, all her thoughts were
mixed with the leaven of prayer, so that the humblest deed and the
most common of imaginings were by it sanctified! She knew that here
was not her home, but that far away and out of sight, beyond the seas
and mountains of the world, her everlasting house rose white and
stately and that with her earthly toil and sufferings she built it
stone by stone, filling its halls and porticoes with ivory statues of
the gods, making it pure with clouds of incense that their perfected
souls brooding on her soul drew from it, as at dawn the sun draws mist
from rivers.
With grief and toil, with bleeding feet; buffeted by the winds of
circumstance, wet with the rain of tears, washed by the waters of
repentance, she climbed the stony upward path that led to the Peak of
Peace. She believed in she knew not what, for always to her those gods
were man-shaped symbols. Still day and night she struggled on, lit by
the rays of the lamp of faith, sure that in the end the veils would be
withdrawn and that she would look upon the Face Divine and hear its
voice of welcome. She was obedient to the Law; she knew that time was
not her own and that of every moment she must give account. Aye, she
was in the way of holiness and before her shone the golden guerdons of
redemption.
But now. What was Ayesha now when she had known the embrace of the
Spirit of Fire, when she had dared the deed and wrung the secret from
his burning heart? Aye, when on the earth she had attained to
immortality, since even then a voice cried in her ears:
"Behold! thou shalt not die. Behold while the world lives, with it
thou shalt live also, because thou hast drunk of the wine of Earth's
primeval Soul that cannot be spilled until its mighty fabric is
dissolved into the nothingness whence it sprang!"
What was she now? She was that very Earth. She was that Soul poured
into the white vase of a woman's form; aye, she was its essence. Its
lightnings and its hurricanes lay chained within her, ready to leap
out when she was wrath, and who could abide before their strength? She
knew all Earth's glory as alone it swung through space, kissed of the
light of the Sun its father, or dreaming in the arms of darkness. The
planets were her sisters, the bright, blazing stars acknowledged her
as kin. Aye; with this mother-world she symbolled she was numbered
among the multitude of that hierarchy of heaven.
Nor was this all, for in her reigned and glowed every power and
passion of the Earth. Thenceforth all things were at her command, but,
like that Earth, _she was alone and could no more speak with Heaven!_
In a flash, in a twinkling, all this mighty truth came home to me, and
with it other truths. I did not doubt, I did not dream, I knew, I
knew, I _knew_!
There stood the man and I would take him. He was wed according to
Nature's law, and now I owned no other. But what of that? The wine
that I desired I would drink. I would mate me as the wild things
mated, by strength and capture, since I was very strong and who could
stand against my might? I, the reborn Ayesha, had commanded. It should
be done.
"Kallikrates," I said in my new voice of honeyed sweetness, "behold
your spouse, one of whom you need not be ashamed. Make ready,
Kallikrates. Go stand in the path of the Fire when it returns, and
then let us hence to reign eternally."
"What, Witch," cried Amenartas, "would you rob me of my lord? It shall
not be. If you are mighty, so am I, although I remain a woman.
Kallikrates, look on me, your wife, she who has borne your child, that
lost child who binds us yet with bonds that may not be broken. Have
done with this fair dæmon ere she enchant you. Away! Away from this
haunted, mocking hell."
"I come. Surely I come," said Kallikrates, glancing at me fearfully.
"I am afraid of her, and of that fire I will have none. Surely it is
Set himself wrapped about with flames."
"Nay, you go not, Kallikrates. Let Amenartas go if she desires. Here
you abide with me until all is accomplished. I command, and when I
command, you must obey."
He wheeled about; he flung himself into the arms of Amenartas. They
closed around him and held him fast. Then I threw out my will. Saying
nothing I laid my strength upon him, so that he was dragged from out
those arms and with slow steps drew near to me, as the bird draws near
to the snake that charms it with its baleful eyes. Amenartas leapt
between us and from her lips flowed words in torrents.
All she said I do not know; it is forgot; but very sore she pleaded
and very bitterly she wept. Yet my heart, new steeled in yonder fire,
felt no pity for her. An hour past I should have bade him go his way
and to look upon my face no more, but now it was otherwise. I was
cruel, cruel as Death, King of the world. The wild beast does not
spare its rival, neither would I.
Still I drew him with my strength; still Amenartas clung and pleaded,
till at last madness took hold of that tormented man. He raved, he
cursed us both, he cursed himself who had left the quiet halls of
Isis, who had spurned the love divine to seek the arms of woman. He
prayed to Isis to be pitiful, to forgive, to receive his soul and
shrive it.
Then suddenly from his belt he snatched his short Grecian sword and
stabbed at his own heart.
Swift as a snake that strikes, or a falcon stooping at its prey, I
sprang. I seized his arm, I dragged it back, and such might was there
in my grasp, aye, the might of Hercules himself, that the sword flew
far, and the strong man who held it reeled round and round and fell.
We stood aghast, thinking that he was sped. Yet he rose, the red blood
running from his breast, and in a quiet voice, a little laugh upon his
lips, said to Amenartas, not to me,
"Fear nothing, Wife. Alas! it is but a cut--skin deep, no more."
"Then let the fire heal it, O Kallikrates. Make ready to enter the
fire that must soon retravel its circling path," I answered.
"Nay, nay, Husband," cried Amenartas. "By that blood of yours, the
blood that flowed in our dead son and flows in that of the child to
be, I adjure you turn from this witch and temptress and break her
enchanted bonds."
"By our dead son," he repeated after her in a strange and heavy voice.
"With what holier words could you conjure, O my wife? With that name
of power I am new-armoured. Daughter of Wisdom, I reject your
proffered gifts, nor will I enter your charmed fire though it should
give to me eternal strength and gloriousness, and with these your
shining beauty and your love. Child of the gods, farewell! I go to
seek peace and pardon if it may be found. Yes, pardon for you and me,
and for Amenartas, the mother of my child. Daughter of Wisdom, fare
you well for ever!"
I heard, and it seemed to me that I stood alone in the midst of a
great silence while those cruel words, divorcing me from hope, fell
one by one upon me like ice-drops from the sky, cutting to brain and
heart and freezing me to stone. Then of a sudden rage possessed me,
such rage as Nature knows in her fiercest moods, and I spoke as it
gave me words, saying,
"I call down death upon thee, Kallikrates the Greek. Death be thy
portion and the grave thy home. Because thou hast rejected me, because
thou hast offered me insult to my face, it is my will that thou mayest
die; it is my desire that thy name be blotted out from the roll of
Life. Die, then, Kallikrates, that thine eyes may torment me no more
and that I may learn to mock thy memory."
Thus I spoke those words of doom in my madness, though what conceived
them in my heart I do not know. There they sprang up suddenly at the
touch of the wand of Evil, such evil as until now I had never dreamed.
Lo! in a moment they fulfilled themselves. There before my eyes the
man _died_, smitten of the dominion over Death that was the Fire's
fatal gift to me, as now, all unprepared, instantly I learned. Yes,
the first service that I made of my dread majesty was to hurl that
awful doom at the heart of the man I loved.
He died! Kallikrates died there before our eyes. Yet being dead, still
he stood upon his feet and spoke, though even then I knew that it was
not he who spoke, but some spirit possessing his perished flesh. His
lips did not move, his eyes were glassed, his voice was not the voice
of Kallikrates, nay, nor the voice of mortal man. Yet he spoke, or
seemed to speak, and these were the words he said,
"Woman, known on earth as Ayesha, daughter of Yarab, but in the
Under-world by many another name, hearken to thy fate. Here, where
thou hast betrayed thy trust, here where thou didst slay the man of
thy desire, here through long ages shalt thou abide undying, until in
the fulness of time he returns to thee, O Ayesha, in lonely bitterness
shalt thou abide; tears shall be thy drink and remorse thy bread. The
power that thou didst crave shall be but a blunted, unused sword
within thine hand. Thy kingdom shall be a desolation, thy subjects
barbarians, and from century to century thy companions shall be the
dead."
The voice ceased and I answered it, asking,
"And when the returning tide of Time bears this man back to me, what
then, O Spirit? Is all hope passed from me, O Spirit?"
No answer came, but that which had been Kallikrates sank in a huddled
heap upon the sand.