Ardath: The Story of a Dead Self Part 12

... Sad or merry, that thou are a singer at all makes thee the guest of the King's Laureate!" A look of conscious vanity illumined his face as he thus announced with proud emphasis his own t.i.tle and claim to distinction. "The brotherhood of poets," he continued laughingly--"is a mystic and doubtful tie that hath oft been questioned,--but provided they do not, like ill-conditioned wolves, fight each other out of the arena, there should be joy in the relationship". Here, turning full upon the crowd, he lifted his rich, melodious voice to higher and more ringing tones:

"It is like you, O hasty and misjudging Kyrisians, that finding a harmless wanderer from far off lands, present at the pageant of the Midsummer Benediction, ye should pounce upon him, even as kites on a straying sea-bird, and maul him with your ruthless talons! Has he broken the law of worship! Ye have broken the law of hospitality! Has he failed to kneel to the pa.s.sing Ship of the Sun? So have ye failed to handle him with due courtesy! What report shall he bear hence of your gentleness and culture to those dim and unjoyous sh.o.r.es beyond the gray green wall of ocean-billows, where the very name of Al-Kyris serves as a symbol for all that is great and wise and wondrous in the whole round circle of the world? Moreover ye know full well that foreigners and sojourners in the city are exempt from worship,--and the King's command is that all such should be well and n.o.bly entertained, to the end that when they depart they may carry with them a full store of pleasant memories. Hence, scatterbrains, to your homes!--No festival can ye enjoy without a gust of contention!--ye are ill-made instruments all, whose jarring strings even I, crowned Minstrel of the King, can scarce keep one day in happy tune! Look you now! ... this stranger is my guest!--. Is there a man in Al-Kyris who will treat as an enemy one whom Sah-luma calls friend?"

A storm of applause followed this little extempore speech,--applause accompanied by an odorous rain of flowers. There were many women in the crowd, and these had pressed eagerly forward to catch every word that dropped from the Poet-Laureate's mellifluous lips,--now, moved by one common impulse, they hastily s.n.a.t.c.hed off their posies and garlands, and flung them in lavish abundance at his feet. Some of the blossoms chancing to fall on Theos and cling to his garments, he quickly shook them off, and gathering them together, presented them to the personage for whom they were intended. He, however, gayly rejected them, moving his small sandalled foot playfully among the thick wealth of red and white roses that lay waiting to be crushed beneath his tread.

"Keep thy share!" he said, with an amused flash of his glorious eyes.

"Such offerings are my daily lot! ... I can spare thee one handful from the overflowing harvest of my song!"

It was impossible to be offended with such charming self-complacency,--the naive conceit of the man was as harmless as the delight of a fair girl who has made her first conquest, and Theos smiling, kept the flowers. By this time the surrounding throng had broken up into little knots and groups,--all ill-humor on the part of the populace had completely vanished,--and large numbers were now leaving the embankment and dispersing in different directions to their several homes. All those who had been within hearing distance of Sah-luma's voice appeared highly elated, as though they had enjoyed some special privilege and pleasure, ... to be reproved by the Laureate was evidently considered better than being praised by any one else.

Many persons pressed up to Theos, and shaking hands with him, offered their eager excuses and apologies for the misunderstanding that had lately taken place, explaining with much animation both of look and gesture, that the fact of his wearing the same style of dress as themselves had induced them to take it for granted that he must be one of their fellow-citizens, and therefore subject to the laws of the realm. Theos was just beginning to feel somewhat embarra.s.sed by the excessive politeness and cordiality, of his recent antagonists, when Sah-luma, again interposing, cut all explanations short.

"Come, come! cease this useless prating!" he said imperatively yet good-naturedly--"In everything ye showed your dullard ignorance and lack of discernment. For, concerning the matter of attire, are not the fashions of Al-Kyris copied more or less badly in every quarter of the habitable globe?--even as our language and literature form the chief study and delight of all scholars and educated gentlemen? A truce to your discussions!--Let us get hence and home;" here he turned to Theos with a graceful salutation--"You, my good friend, will doubtless be glad to rest and recover from my countrymen's ungentle treatment of your person."

Thus saying, he made a slight commanding sign,--the cl.u.s.tering people drew back on either side,--and he, taking Theos by the arm, pa.s.sed through their ranks, talking, laughing, and nodding graciously here and there as he went, with the half-kindly, half-indifferent ease of an affable monarch who occasionally bows to some of his poorest subjects.

As he trod over the flowers that lay heaped about his path, several girls rushed impetuously forward, struggling with each other for possession of those particularly favored blossoms that had received the pressure of his foot, and kissing them, they tied them in little knots, and pinned them proudly on the bosoms of their white gowns.

One or two, more daring, stretched out their hands to touch the golden frame of the harp as it was carried past them by the youth in crimson,--a pretty fellow enough, who looked extremely haughty, and almost indignant at this effrontery on the part of the fair poet-worshippers, but he made no remonstrance, and merely held his head a little higher and walked with a more consequential air, as he followed his master at a respectful distance. Another long ecstatic shout of "Hail Sah-luma!" arose on all sides, rippling away,--away,--down, as it seemed, to the very furthest edge of echoing resonance,--and then the remainder of the crowd quickly scattered right and left, leaving the s.p.a.cious embankment almost deserted, save for the presence of several copper-colored, blue-shirted individuals who were commencing the work of taking down and rolling up the silken awnings, accompanying their labors by a sort of monotonous chant that, mingling with the slow, gliding plash of the river, sounded as weird and mournful as the sough of the wind through leafless trees.

Meanwhile Theos, in the company of his new friend, began to express his thanks for the timely rescue he had received,--but Sah-luma waived all such acknowledgments aside.

"Nay, I have only served thee as a crowned Laureate should ever serve a lesser minstrel,"--he said, with that indescribably delicious air of self-flattery which was so whimsical, and yet so winning,--"And I tell thee in all good faith that, for a newly arrived visitor in Al-Kyris, thy first venture was a reckless one! To omit to kneel in the presence of the High Priestess during her Benediction, was a violation of our customs and ceremonies dangerous to life and limb! A religiously excited mob is merciless,--and if I had not chanced upon the scene of action, . ."

"I should have been no longer the man I am!" smiled Theos, looking down on his companion's light, lithe, elegant form as it moved gracefully by his side--"But that I failed in homage to the High Priestess was a most unintentional lack of wit on my part,--for if THAT was the High Priestess,--that dazzling wonder of beauty who lately pa.s.sed in a glittering ship, on her triumphant way down the river, like a priceless pearl in a cup of gold..."

"Aye, aye!" and Sah-luma's dark brows contracted in a slight frown--"Not so many fine words, I pray thee! Thou couldst not well mistake her,--there is only one Lysia!"

"Lysia!" murmured Theos dreamily, and the musical name slid off his lips with a soft, sibilant sound,--"Lysia! And I forgot to kneel to that enchanting, that adorable being! Oh unwise, benighted fool!--where were my thoughts? Next time I see her I will atone! .--no matter what creed she represents,--I will kiss the dust at her feet, and so make reparation for my sin!"

Sah-luma glanced at him with a somewhat dubious expression.

"What!--art thou already persuaded?" he queried lightly, "and wilt thou also be one of us? Well, thou wilt need to kiss the dust in very truth, if thou servest Lysia, . . no half-measures will suit where she, the Untouched and Immaculate, is concerned,"--and here there was a faint inflection of mingled mockery and sadness in his tone--"To love her is, for many men, an absolute necessity,--but the Virgin Priestess of the Sun and the Serpent receives love, as statues may receive it,--moving all others to frenzy, she is herself unmoved!"

Theos listened, scarcely hearing. He was studying every line in Sah-luma's face and figure with fixed and wistful attention. Almost unconsciously he pressed the arm he held, and Sah-luma looked up at him with a half-smile.

"I fancy we shall like each other!" he said--"Thou art a western singing bird-of-pa.s.sage, and I a nested nightingale amid the roses of the East,--our ways of making melody are different,--we shall not quarrel!"

"Quarrel!" echoed Theos amazedly--"Nay! ... I might quarrel with my nearest and dearest, but never with thee, Sah-luma! For I know thee for a very prince of poets! ... and would as soon profane the sanct.i.ty of the Muse herself, as violate thy proffered friendship!"

"Why, so!" returned Sah-luma, his brilliant eyes flashing with undisguised pleasure,--"An' thou thinkest thus of me we shall be firm and fast companions! Thou hast spoken well and not without good instruction--I perceive my fame hath reached thee in thine own ocean-girdled lands, where music is as rare as sunshine. Right glad am I that chance has thrown us together, for now thou wilt be better able to judge of my unrivalled master-skill in sweet word-weaving! Thou must abide with me for all the days of thy sojourn here.... Art willing?"

"Willing? ... Aye! more than willing!" exclaimed Theos enthusiastically--"But,--if I burden hospitality.."

"Burden!" and Sah-luma laughed--"Talk not of burdens to me!--I, who have feasted kings, and made light of their entertaining! Here," he added as he led the way through a broad alley, lined with magnificent palms--"here is the entrance to my poor dwelling!" and a sparkling, mischievous smile brightened his features.--"There is room enough in it, methinks to hold thee, even if thou hadst brought a retinue of slaves!"

He pointed before him as he spoke, and Theos stood for a moment stock-still and overcome with astonishment, at the size and splendor of the palace whose gates they were just approaching. It was a dome-shaped building of the purest white marble, surrounded on all sides by long, fluted colonnades, and fronted by s.p.a.cious court paved with mosaics, where eight flower-bordered fountains dashed up to the hot, blue sky, incessant showers of refreshing spray.

Into this court and across it, Sah-luma led his wondering guest, . .

ascending a wide flight of steps, they entered a vast open hall, where the light poured in through rose-colored and pale blue gla.s.s, that gave a strange yet lovely effect of mingled sunset and moonlight to the scene. Here--reclining about on cushions of silk and velvet--were several beautiful girls in various att.i.tudes of indolence and ease,--one laughing, black-haired houri was amusing herself with a tame bird which flew to and from her uplifted finger,--another in a half-sitting posture, played cup-and-ball with much active and graceful dexterity,--some were working at gold and silver embroidery,--others, cl.u.s.tered in a semicircle round a large osier basket filled with myrtle, were busy weaving garlands of the fragrant leaves,--and one maiden, seemingly younger than the rest, and of lighter and more delicate complexion, leaned somewhat pensively against an ebony-framed harp, as though she were considering what sad or suggestive chords she should next awaken from its responsive strings. As Sah-luma and Theos appeared, these nymphs all rose from their different occupations and amus.e.m.e.nts, and stood with bent heads and folded hands in statuesque silence and humility.

"These are my human rosebuds!" said Sah-luma softly and gayly, as holding the dazzled Theos by the arm he escorted him past these radiant and exquisite forms--"They bloom, and fade, and die, like the flowers thrown by the populace,--proud and happy to feel that their perishable loveliness has, even, for a brief while, been made more lasting by contact with my deathless poet-fame! Ah, Niphrata!" and he paused at the side of the girl standing by the harp--"Hast thou sung many of my songs to-day? ... or is thy voice too weak for such impa.s.sioned cadence? Thou art pale, . . I miss thy soft blush and dimpling smile,--what ails thee, my honey-throated oriole?"

"Nothing, my lord"--answered Niphrata in a low tone, raising a pair of lovely, dusky, violet eyes, fringed with long black lashes,--"Nothing,--save that my heart is always sad in thine absence!"

Sah-luma smiled, well pleased.

"Let it be sad no longer then!" he said, caressing her cheek with his hand,--and Theos saw a wave of rich color mounting swiftly to her fair brows at his touch, as though she were a white poppy warming to crimson in the ardent heat of the sun--"I love to see thee merry,--mirth suits a young and beauteous face like thine! Look you, Sweet!--I bring with me here a stranger from far-off lands,--one to whom Sah-luma's name is as a star in the desert!--I must needs have thy voice in all its full lusciousness of tune to warble for his pleasure those heart-entangling ditties of mine which thou hast learned to render with such matchless tenderness! ... Thanks, Gisenya," ... this as another maiden advanced, and, gently removing the myrtle-wreath he wore, placed one just freshly woven on his cl.u.s.tering curls, . . then, turning to Theos, he inquired--"Wilt thou also wear a minstrel-garland, my friend? Niphrata or Gisenya will crown thee!"

"I am not worthy"--answered Theos, bending his head in low salutation to the two lovely girls, who stood eying him with a certain wistful wonder--"One spray from Sah-luma's discarded wreath will best suffice me!"

Sah-luma broke into a laugh of absolute delight.

"I swear thou speakest well and like a true man!" he said joyously.

"Unfamous as thou art, thou deservest honor for the frank confession of thy lack of merit! Believe me, there are some boastful rhymers in Al-Kyris who would benefit much by a share of thy becoming modesty!

Give him his wish, Gisenya--" and Gisenya, obediently detaching a sprig of myrtle from the wreath Sah-luma had worn all day, handed it to Theos with a graceful obeisance--"For who knows but the leaves may contain a certain witchery we wot not of, that shall endow him with a touch of the divine inspiration!"

At that moment, a curious figure came shuffling across the splendid hall,--that of a little old man somewhat shabbily attired, upon whose wrinkled countenance there seemed to be a fixed, malign smile, like the smile of a mocking Greek mask. He had small, bright, beady black eyes placed very near the bridge of his large hooked nose,--his thin, wispy gray locks streamed scantily over his bent shoulders, and he carried a tall staff to support his awkward steps,--a staff with which he made a most disagreeable tapping noise on the marble pavement as he came along.

"Ah, Sir Gad-about!" he exclaimed in a harsh, squeaky voice as he perceived Sah-luma--"Back again from your self-advertising in the city!

Is there any poor soul left in Al-Kyris whose ears have not been deafened by the parrot-cry of the name of Sah-luma?--If there is,--at him, at him, my dainty warbler of tiresome trills!--at him, and storm his senses with a rhodomontade of rhymes without reason!--at him, Immortal of the Immortals!--Bard of Bards!--stuff him with quatrains and s.e.xtains!--beat him with blank verse, blank of all meaning!--lash him with ballad and sonnet-scourges, till the tortured wretch, howling for mercy, shall swear that no poet save Sah-luma, ever lived before, or will ever live again, on the face of the shuddering and astonished earth!"

And breathless with this extraordinary outburst, he struck his staff loudly on the floor, and straightway fell into such a violent fit of coughing that his whole lean body shook with the paroxysm.

Sah-luma laughed heartily,--laughter in which he was joined by all the a.s.sembled maidens, including the gentle, pensive-eyed Niphrata.

Standing erect in his glistening princely attire, with one hand resting familiarly on Theos's arm, and the sparkle of mirth lighting up his handsome features, he formed the greatest contrast imaginable to the little shrunken old personage, who, clinging convulsively to his staff, was entirely absorbed in his efforts to control and overcome his sudden and unpleasant attack of threatened suffocation.

"Theos, my friend,"--he said, still laughing--"Thou must know the admirable Zabastes,--a man of vast importance in his own opinion! Have done with thy wheezing,"--he continued, vehemently thumping the struggling old gentleman on the back--"Here is another one of the minstrel craft thou hatest,--hast aught of bitterness in thy barbed tongue wherewith to welcome him as guest to mine abode?"

Thus adjured, the old man peered up at Theos inquisitively, wiping away the tears that coughing had brought into his eyes, and after a minute or two began also to laugh in a smothered, chuckling way,--a laugh that resembled the croaking of frogs in a marshy pool.

"Another one of the minstrel-craft," he echoed derisively--"Aye, aye!

... Like meets like, and fools consorts with fool. The guest of Sah-luma, . . Hearken, young man,--" and he drew closer, the malign grin widening on his furrowed face,--"Thou shalt learn enough trash here to stock thee with idiot-songs for a century. Thou shalt gather up such fragments of stupidity, as shall provide thee with food for all the puling love-sick girls of a nation! Dost thou write follies also?

... thou shalt not write them here, thou shalt not even think them!--for here Sah-luma,--the great, the unrivalled Sah-luma,--is sole Lord of the land of Poesy. Poesy,--by all the G.o.ds!--I would the accursed art had never been invented ... so might the world have been spared many long-drawn nothings, enwoofed in obscure and distracting phraseology! ... THOU a would-be Poet?--go to!--make brick, mend sandals, dig entrenchments, fight for thy country,--and leave the idle stringing of words, and the tinkling of rhyme, to children like Sah-luma, who play with life instead of living it."

And with this, he hobbled off uneasily, grunting and grumbling as he went, and waving his staff magisterially right and left to warn the smiling maidens out of his way,--and once more Sah-luma's laughter, clear and joyous, pealed through the vaulted vestibule.

"Poor Zabastes!" he said in a tone of good-humored tolerance--"He has the most caustic wit of any man in Al-Kyris! He is a positive marvel of perverseness and ill-humor, well worth the four hundred golden pieces I pay him yearly for his task of being my scribe and critic. Like all of us he must live, eat and wear decent clothing,--and that his only literary skill lies in the abuse of better men than himself is his misfortune, rather than his fault. Yes! ... he is my paid Critic, paid to rail against me on all occasions public or private, for the merriment of those who care to listen to the mutterings of his discontent,--and, by the Sacred Veil! ... I cannot choose but laugh myself whenever I think of him. He deems his words carry weight with the people,--alas, poor soul! his scorn but adds to my glory,--his derision to my fame! Nay, of a truth I need him,--even as the King needs the court fool,--to make mirth for me in vacant moments,--for there is something grotesque in the contemplation of his cankered clownishness, that sees nought in life but the eating, the sleeping, the building, and the bargaining. Such men as he can never bear to know that there are others, gifted by heaven, for whom all common things take radiant shape and meaning,--for whom the flowers reveal their fragrant secrets,--for whom birds not only sing, but speak in most melodious utterance--for whose dreaming eyes, the very sunbeams spin bright fantasies in mid-air more lasting than the kingdoms of the world! Blind and unhappy Zabastes! ... he is ignorant as a stone, and for him the mysteries of Nature are forever veiled. The triumphal hero-march of the stars,--the brief, bright rhyme of the flashing comet,--the canticle of the rose as she bears her crimson heart to the smile of the sun,--the chorus of green leaves chanting orisons to the wind--the never completed epic of heaven's lofty solitudes where the white moon paces, wandering like a maiden in search of love,--all these and other unnumbered joys he has lost--joys that Sah-luma, child of the high G.o.ds and favorite of Destiny drinks in with the light and the air."

His eyes softened with a dreamy, intense l.u.s.tre that gave them a new and almost pathetic beauty, while Theos, listening to each word he uttered, wondered whether there were ever any sounds sweeter than the rise and fall of his exquisite voice,--a voice as deliciously clear and mellow as a golden flute tenderly played.

"Yes!--though we must laugh at Zabastes we should also pity him,"--he resumed in gayer accents--"His fate is not enviable. He is nothing but a Critic--he could not well be a lesser man,--one who, unable himself to do any great work, takes refuge in finding fault with the works of others. And those who abhor true Poesy are in time themselves abhorred,--the balance of Justice never errs in these things. The Poet wins the whole world's love, and immortal fame,--his adverse Critic, brief contempt, and measureless oblivion. Come,"--he added, addressing Theos--"we will leave these maidens to their duties and pastimes,--Niphrata!" here his dazzling smile flashed like a beam of sunlight over his face--"thou wilt bring us fruit and wine yonder,--we shall pa.s.s the afternoon together within doors. Bid my steward prepare the Rose Chamber for my guest, and let Athazel and Zimra attend there to wait upon him."

All the maidens saluted, touching their heads with their hands in token of obedience, and Sah-luma leading the way, courteously beckoned Theos to follow. He did so, conscious as he went of two distinct impressions,--first, that the mysterious mental agitation he had suffered from when he had found himself so unexpectedly in a strange city, was not completely dispelled,--and secondly, that he felt as though he must have known Sah-luma all his life! His memory still remained a blank as regarded his past career,--but this fact had ceased to trouble him, and he was perfectly tranquil, and altogether satisfied with his present surroundings. In short, to be in Al-Kyris, seemed to him quite in keeping with the necessary course of events,--while to be the friend and companion of Sah-luma was more natural and familiar to his mind, than all once natural and familiar things.

CHAPTER XIII.

A POET'S PALACE.