The Poems of Henry Van Dyke Part 53

Surely shall my arrow strike his heart in secret, Burn his flesh with fever, turn his blood to poison.

Brand him with corruption, drive him into darkness; He shall surely perish by the doom of Rimmon._

[All are terrified and look toward NAAMAN, shuddering. RUAHMAH alone seems not to heed the curse, but stands with her eyes fixed on NAAMAN.]

RUAHMAH: Be not afraid! There is a greater G.o.d Shall cover thee with His almighty wings: Beneath his shield and buckler shalt thou trust.

BENHADAD: Repent, my son, thou must not brave this curse.

NAAMAN: My King, there is no curse as terrible As that which lights a bosom-fire for him Who gives away his honour, to prolong A craven life whose every breath is shame!

If I betray the men who follow me, The city that has put her trust in me, What king can shield me from my own deep scorn What G.o.d release me from that self-made h.e.l.l?

The tender mercies of a.s.syria I know; and they are cruel as creeping tigers.

Give up Damascus, and her streets will run Rivers of innocent blood; the city's heart, That mighty, labouring heart, wounded and crushed Beneath the brutal hooves of the wild Bull, Will cry against her captain, sitting safe Among the n.o.bles, in some pleasant place.

I shall be safe,--safe from the threatened wrath Of unknown G.o.ds, but d.a.m.ned forever by The men I know,--that is the curse I fear.

BENHADAD: Speak not so high, my son. Must we not bow Our heads before the sovereignties of heaven?

The unseen rulers are Divine.

NAAMAN: O King, I am unlearned in the lore of priests; Yet well I know that there are hidden powers About us, working mortal weal and woe Beyond the force of mortals to control.

And if these powers appear in love and truth, I think they must be G.o.ds, and worship them.

But if their secret will is manifest In blind decrees of sheer omnipotence, That punish where no fault is found, and smite The poor with undeserved calamity, And pierce the undefended in the dark With arrows of injustice, and foredoom The innocent to burn in endless pain, I will not call this fierce almightiness Divine. Though I must bear, with every man, The burden of my life ordained, I'll keep My soul unterrified, and tread the path Of truth and honour with a steady heart!

Have ye not heard, my lords? The oracle Proclaims to me, to me alone, the doom Of vengeance if I lead the army out.

"Conquered or conquering!" I grip that chance!

Damascus free, her foes all beaten back, The people saved from slavery, the King Upheld in honour on his ancient throne,-- O what's the cost of this? I'll gladly pay Whatever G.o.ds there be, whatever price They ask for this one victory. Give me This gilded sign of shame to carry back; I'll shake it in the face of a.s.shur's king, And break it on his teeth.

BENHADAD: [Rising.]

Then go, my never-beaten captain, go!

And may the powers that hear thy solemn vow Forgive thy rashness for Damascus' sake, Prosper thy fighting, and remit thy pledge.

REZON: [Standing beside the altar.]

The pledge, O King, this man must seal his pledge At Rimmon's altar. He must take the cup Of soldier-sacrament, and bind himself By thrice-performed libation to abide The fate he has invoked.

NAAMAN: [Slowly.]

And so I will.

[He comes down the steps, toward the altar, where REZON is filling the cup which TSARPI holds.

RUAHMAH throws herself before NAAMAN, clasping his knees.]

RUAHMAH: [Pa.s.sionately and wildly.]

My lord, I do beseech you, stay! There's death Within that cup. It is an offering To devils. See, the wine blazes like fire, It flows like blood, it is a cursed cup, Fulfilled of treachery and hate.

Dear master, n.o.ble master, touch it not!

NAAMAN: Poor maid, thy brain is still distraught. Fear not, But let me go! Here, treat her tenderly!

[Gives her into the hands of SABALLIDIN.]

Can harm befall me from the wife who bears My name? I take the cup of fate from her.

I greet the unknown powers; [Pours libation.]

I will perform my vow; [Again.]

I will abide my fate; [Again.]

I pledge my life to keep Damascus free.

[He drains the cup, and lets it fall.]

_CURTAIN._

ACT II

TIME: _A week later_

_The fore-court of the House of Rimmon. At the back the broad steps and double doors of the shrine; above them the tower of the G.o.d, its summit invisible. Enter various groups of citizens, talking, laughing, shouting: RAKHAZ, HAZAEL, SHUMAKIM and others._

FIRST CITIZEN: Great news, glorious news, the a.s.syrians are beaten!

SECOND CITIZEN: Naaman is returning, crowned with victory. Glory to our n.o.ble captain!

THIRD CITIZEN: No, he is killed. I had it from one of the camp-followers who saw him fall at the head of the battle. They are bringing his body to bury it with honour. O sorrowful victory!

RAKHAZ: Peace, my good fellows, you are ignorant, you have not been rightly informed, I will misinform you. The accounts of Naaman's death are overdrawn. He was killed, but his life has been preserved. One of his wounds was mortal, but the other three were curable, and by these the physicians have saved him.

SHUMAKIM: [Balancing himself before RAKHAZ in pretended admiration.]

O wonderful! Most admirable logic! One mortal, and three curable, therefore he must recover as it were, by three to one. Rakhaz, do you know that you are a marvelous man?

RAKHAZ: Yes, I know it, but I make no boast of my knowledge.

SHUMAKIM: Too modest, for in knowing this you know more than any other in Damascus!

[Enter, from the right, SABALLIDIN in armour: from the left, TSARPI with her attendants, among whom is RUAHMAH.]

HAZAEL: Here is Saballidin, we'll question him; He was enflamed by Naaman's wild words, And rode with him to battle. Give us news, Of your great captain! Is he safe and well?

When will he come? Or will he come at all?

[All gather around him listening eagerly.]

SABALLIDIN: He comes but now, returning from the field Where he hath gained a crown of deathless fame!

Three times he led the charge; three times he fell Wounded, and the a.s.syrians beat us back.

Yet every wound was but a spur to urge His valour onward. In the last attack He rode before us as the crested wave That leads the flood; and lo, our enemies Were broken like a dam of river-reeds.

The flying King encircled by his guard Was lodged like driftwood on a little hill.

Then Naaman, who led our foremost band Of whirlwind riders, hammered through the hedge Of spearmen, brandishing the golden yoke.

"Take back this gift," he cried; and shattered it On Shalmaneser's helmet. So the fight Dissolved in universal rout; the King, His chariots and his hors.e.m.e.n fled away; Our captain stood the master of the field, And saviour of Damascus! Now he brings, First to the King, report of this great triumph.

[Shouts of joy and applause.]

RUAHMAH: [Coming close to SABALLIDIN.]

But what of him who won it? Fares he well?

My mistress would receive some word of him.