The House of Rimmon Part 1

The House of Rimmon.

by Henry Van d.y.k.e.

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

BENHADAD: King of Damascus.

REZON: High Priest of the House of Rimmon.

SABALLIDIN: A n.o.ble of Damascus.

HAZAEL ) IZDUBHAR ) Courtiers of Damascus.

RAKHAZ )

SHUMAKIM: The King's Fool.

ELISHA: Prophet of Israel.

NAAMAN: Captain of the Armies of Damascus.

RUAHMAH: A Captive Maid of Israel.

TSARPI: Wife to Naaman.

KHAMMA ) NUBTA ) Attendants of Tsarpi.

Soldiers, Servants, Citizens, etc., etc.

SCENE: _Damascus and the Mountains of Samaria._

TIME: _850 B. C._

ACT I

SCENE I

_Night, in the garden of NAAMAN at Damascus. At the left, on a slightly raised terrace, the palace, with softly gleaming lights and music coming from the open latticed windows. The garden is full of oleanders, roses, pomegranates, abundance of crimson flowers; the air is heavy with their fragrance: a fountain at the right is plashing gently: behind it is an arbour covered with vines. Near the centre of the garden stands a small, hideous image of the G.o.d Rimmon. Back of the arbour rises the lofty square tower of the House of Rimmon, which casts a shadow from the moon across the garden. The background is a wide, hilly landscape, with a high road pa.s.sing over the mountains toward the snow-clad summits of Mount Hermon in the distance. Enter by the palace door, the lady TSARPI, robed in red and gold, and followed by her maids, KHAMMA and NUBTA. She remains on the terrace: they go down into the garden, looking about, and returning to her._

KHAMMA: There's no one here; the garden is asleep.

NUBTA: The flowers are nodding, all the birds abed, And nothing wakes except the watchful stars!

KHAMMA: The stars are sentinels discreet and mute: How many things they know and never tell!

TSARPI: [_Impatiently._]

Unlike the stars, how many things you tell And do not know! When comes your master home?

NUBTA: Lady, his armour-bearer brought us word An hour ago, the master will be here At moonset, not before.

TSARPI: He haunts the camp And leaves me much alone; yet I can pa.s.s The time of absence not unhappily, If I but know the time of his return.

An hour of moonlight yet! Khamma, my mirror!

These curls are ill arranged, this veil too low,-- So,--that is better, careless maids! Withdraw,-- But warn me if your master should appear.

KHAMMA: Mistress, have no concern; for when we hear The clatter of his horse along the street, We'll run this way and lead your dancers down With song and laughter,--you shall know in time.

[_Exeunt KHAMMA and NUBTA, laughing. TSARPI descends the steps._]

TSARPI: My guest is late; but he will surely come!

Hunger and thirst will bring him to my feet.

The man who burns to drain the cup of love,-- The priest whose greed of glory never fails,-- Both, both have need of me, and he will come.

And I,--what do I need? Why everything That helps my beauty to a higher throne; All that a priest can promise, all a man Can give, and all a G.o.d bestow, I need: This may a woman win, and this will I.

[_Enter REZON quietly from the shadow of the trees. He stands behind TSARPI and listens, smiling, to her last words. Then he drops his mantle of leopard-skin, and lifts his high-priest's rod of bronze, shaped at one end like a star, at the other like a thunderbolt._]

REZON: Tsarpi!

TSARPI: The mistress of the house of Naaman Salutes the keeper of the House of Rimmon.

[_She bows low before him._]

REZON: Rimmon receives you with his star of peace;

[_He lowers the star-point of the rod, which glows for a moment with rosy light above her head._]

And I, his chosen minister, kneel down Before your regal beauty, and implore The welcome of the woman for the man.

TSARPI: [_Giving him her hand, but holding off his embrace._]

Thus Tsarpi welcomes Rezon! Nay, no more!

Till I have heard what errand brings you here By night, within the garden of the man Who hates you most and fears you least in all Damascus.

REZON: [_Rising, and speaking angrily._]

Trust me, I repay his scorn With double hatred,--Naaman, the man Whom the King honours and the people love, Who stands against the n.o.bles and the priests, Against the oracles of Rimmon's House, And cries, "We'll fight to keep Damascus free!"

This powerful fool, this impious devotee Of liberty, who loves the city more Than he reveres the city's ancient G.o.d: This frigid husband who sets you below His dream of duty to a horde of slaves: This man I hate, and I will humble him.

TSARPI: I think I hate him too. He stands apart From me, ev'n while he holds me in his arms, By something that I cannot understand, Nor supple to my will, nor melt with tears, Nor quite dissolve with blandishments, although He swears he loves his wife next to his honour!

Next? That's too low! I will be first or nothing.

REZON: With me you are the first, the absolute!

When you and I have triumphed you shall reign; And you and I will bring this hero down.

TSARPI: But how? For he is strong.

REZON: By these, the eyes Of Tsarpi; and by this, the rod of Rimmon.

TSARPI: Speak clearly; tell your plan.