The House of Rimmon Part 9

[_The tent is dark. Enter NAAMAN and his company in haste, with torches._]

NAAMAN: What b.l.o.o.d.y work Is here? G.o.d, let me live to punish him Who wrought this horror! Treacherously slain At night, by unknown hands, my brave companions: Tsarpi, my best beloved, light of my soul, Put out in darkness! O my broken lamp Of life, where art thou? Nay, I cannot find her.

WOUNDED SOLDIER: [_Raising himself on his arm._]

Master!

NAAMAN: [_Kneels beside him._]

One living? Quick, a torch this way!

Lift up his head,--so,--carefully!

Courage, my friend, your captain is beside you.

Call back your soul and make report to him.

WOUNDED SOLDIER: Hail, captain! O my captain,--here!

NAAMAN: Be patient,--rest in peace,--the fight is done.

Nothing remains but render your account.

WOUNDED SOLDIER: They fell upon us suddenly,--we fought Our fiercest,--every man,--our lady fought Fiercer than all. They beat us down,--she's gone.

Rezon has carried her away a captive. See,-- Her amulet,--I die for you, my captain.

NAAMAN: [_He gently lays the dead soldier on the ground, and rises._]

Farewell. This last report was brave; but strange Beyond my thought! How came the High Priest here?

And what is this? my chain, my seal! But this Has never been in Tsarpi's hand. I gave This signet to a captive maid one night,-- A maid of Israel. How long ago?

Ruahmah was her name,--almost forgotten!

So long ago,--how comes this token here?

What is this mystery, Saballidin?

SABALLIDIN: Ruahmah is her name who brought you hither.

NAAMAN: Where then is Tsarpi?

SABALLIDIN: In Damascus.

She left you when the curse of Rimmon fell,-- Took refuge in his House,--and there she waits Her lord's return,--Rezon's return.

NAAMAN: 'Tis false!

SABALLIDIN: The falsehood is in her. She hath been friend With Rezon in his priestly plot to win a.s.syria's favour,--friend to his design To sell his country to enrich his temple,-- And friend to him in more,--I will not name it.

NAAMAN: Nor will I credit it. Impossible!

SABALLIDIN: Did she not plead with you against the war, Counsel surrender, seek to break your will?

NAAMAN: She did not love my work, a soldier's task.

She never seemed to be at one with me Until I was a leper.

SABALLIDIN: From whose hand Did you receive the sacred cup?

NAAMAN: From hers.

SABALLIDIN: And from that hour the curse began to work.

NAAMAN: But did she not have pity when she saw Me smitten? Did she not beseech the King For letters and a guard to make this journey?

Has she not been the fountain of my hope, My comforter and my most faithful guide In this adventure of the dark? All this Is proof of perfect love that would have shared A leper's doom rather than give me up.

Can I doubt her who dared to love like this?

SABALLIDIN: O master, doubt her not,--but know her name; Ruahmah! It was she alone who wrought This wondrous work of love. She won the King By the strong pleading of resistless hope To furnish forth this company. She led Our march, kept us in heart, fought off despair, Offered herself to you as to her G.o.d, Watched over you as if you were her child, Prepared your food, your cup, with her own hands, Sang you asleep at night, awake at dawn,--

NAAMAN: [_Interrupting._]

Enough! I do remember every hour Of that sweet comradeship! And now her voice Wakens the echoes in my lonely breast; The perfume of her presence fills my sense With longing. All my soul cries out in vain For her embracing, satisfying love, her eyes and called her my Ruahmah!

[_To his soldiers._]

Away! away! I burn to take the road That leads me back to Rimmon's House,-- But not to bow,--by G.o.d, never to bow!

TIME: _Three days later_

SCENE II

_Inner court of the House of Rimmon; a temple with huge pillars at each side. In the right foreground the seat of the King; at the left, of equal height, the seat of the High Priest. In the background a broad flight of steps, rising to a curtain of cloudy gray, embroidered with two gigantic hands holding thunderbolts. The temple is in half darkness at first. Enter KHAMMA and NUBTA, robed as Kharimati, or religious dancers, in gowns of black gauze with yellow embroideries and mantles._

KHAMMA: All is ready for the rites of worship; our lady will play a great part in them. She has put on her Tyrian robes, and all her ornaments.

NUBTA: That is a sure sign of a religious purpose. She is most devout, our lady Tsarpi!

KHAMMA: A favourite of Rimmon, too! The High Priest has a.s.sured her of it.

He is a great man,--next to the King, now that Naaman is gone.

NUBTA: But if Naaman should come back, healed of the leprosy?

KHAMMA: How can he come back? The Hebrew slave that went away with him, when they caught her, said that he was dead. The High Priest has shut her up in the prison of the temple, accusing her of her master's death.

NUBTA: Yet I think he does not believe it, for I heard him telling our mistress what to do if Naaman should return.

KHAMMA: What, then?

NUBTA: She will claim him as her husband. Was she not wedded to him before the G.o.d? That is a sacred bond. Only the High Priest can loose it.

She will keep her hold on Naaman for the sake of the House of Rimmon.

A wife knows her husband's secrets, she can tell----

[_Enter SHUMAKIM, with his flagon, walking unsteadily._]

KHAMMA: Hush! here comes the fool Shumakim. He is never sober.

SHUMAKIM: [_Laughing._]

Are there two of you? I see two, but that is no proof. I think there is only one, but beautiful enough for two. What were you talking to yourself about, fairest one!