Ardath by Marie Corelli (reading in the dark .txt) 📖

creature more sorrowful than fierce,—a poor charmed brute, that while netted in the drowsy woofs of its mistress Lysia’s magnetic spell, seemed as though it dimly wondered why it should thus be raised aloft for the adoration of infatuated humankind. Its brilliant crest quivered and emitted little arrowy scintillations of lustre—the “god” was ill at ease in the midst of all his splendor, and two or three times bent back his gleaming neck as though desirous of descending to the level ground.

 

But when these hints of rebellion declared themselves in the tremors running through the scaly twists of his body, Lysia looked up, and at once, compelled as it were by involuntary attraction, “Nagaya the Divine” looked down. The strange, subtle, mesmeric, sleepy eyes of the woman met the glittering green, mournful eyes of the snake,—and thus the two beautiful creatures regarded each other steadfastly and with an apparent vague sympathy, till the “deity,” evidently overcome by a stronger will than his own, and resigning himself to the inevitable, twisted his radiant head back again to the top of the ebony staff, and again surveyed the kneeling crowds of worshippers.

 

Presently his glistening jaws opened,—his tongue darted forth vibratingly,—and he gave vent to a low hissing sound, erecting and depressing his crest with extraordinary rapidity, so that it flashed like an aigrette of rare gems. Then, with slow and solemn step, the Priest Zel advanced to the front of the Shrine, and spreading out his hands in the manner of one pronouncing a benediction, said loudly and with emphasis: “Nagaya the Divine doth hear the prayers of his people!

“Nagaya the Supreme doth accept the offered Sacrifice!

“BRING FORTH THE VICTIM!”

 

The last words were spoken with stern authoritativeness, and scarcely had they been uttered when the great entrance doors of the Temple flew open, and a procession of children appeared, strewing flowers and singing:

 

“O happy Bride, we bring thee unto joy and peace!

“To thee are opened the Palaces of the Air, “The beautiful silent Palaces where the bright stars dwell “O happy Bride of Nagaya! how fair a fate is thine!”

 

Pausing, they flung wreaths and garlands among the people, and continued:

 

“O happy Bride! for thee are past all Sorrows and Sin, “Thou shalt never know shame, or pain or grief or the weariness of tears;

“For thee no husband shall prove false, no children prove ungrateful;

“O happy Bride of Nagaya! how glad a fate is thine.

“O happy Bride! when thou art wedded to the beautiful god, the god of Rest,—

“Thou shalt forget all trouble and dwell among sweet dreams for ever!

“Thou art the blessed one, chosen for the love-embraces of Nagaya!

“O happy Bride! … how glorious a fate is thine!”

 

Thus they sang in the soft, strange vowel-language of Al-Kyris, and tripped along with that innocent, unthinking gayety usual to such young creatures, up to the centre aisle toward the Sanctuary.

They were followed by four priests in scarlet robes and closely masked, . . and walking steadfastly between these, came a slim girl clad in white, veiled from head to foot and crowned with a wreath of lotus lilies. All the congregation, as though moved by an impulse, turned to look at her as she passed,—but her features were not as yet discernible through the mist-like draperies that enfolded her.

 

The singing children, always preceding her and scattering flowers, having arrived at the steps of the Shrine, grouped themselves on either side,—and the red garmented Priests, after having made several genuflections to the glittering Python that now, with reared neck and quivering fangs, seemed to watch everything that was going on with absorbed and crafty vigilance, proceeded to unveil the maiden martyr, and also to tie her slight hands behind her back by means of a knotted silver cord. Then in a firm voice the Priest Zel proclaimed:

 

“Behold the elected Bride of the Sun and the Divine Nagaya!

 

“She bears away from the city the burden of your sins, O ye people, and by her death the gods are satisfied!

 

“Rejoice greatly, for ye are absolved,—and by the Silver Veil and the Eye of Raphon we pronounce upon all here present the blessing of pardon and peace!”

 

As he spoke the girl turned round as though in obedience to some mechanical impulse, and fully confronted the multitude, . . her pale, pure face, framed in a shining aureole of rippling fair hair, floated before Theos’s bewildered eyes like a vision seen indistinctly in a magic crystal, and he was for a moment uncertain of her identity; but quick as a flash Sahluma’s glance lighted upon her, and, with a cry of horror that sent desolate echoes through and through the arches of the Temple, he started from his seat, his arms outstretched, his whole frame convulsed and quivering.

 

“Niphrata! … Niphrata! …” and his rich voice shook with a passion of appeal, “O ye gods! … what mad, blind, murderous cruelty! Zephoranim!” … and he turned impetuously on the astonished monarch: “As thou livest crowned King I say this maid is MINE! … and in the very presence of Nagaya, I swear she shall NOT die!”

 

CHAPTER XXVIII.

 

THE SACRIFICE.

 

A solemn silence ensued. Consternation and wrath were depicted on every countenance. The Sacred Service was interrupted! … a defiance had been hurled as it were in the very teeth of the god Nagaya! … and this horrible outrage to Religion and Law had been actually committed by the Laureate of the realm! It was preposterous, … incredible! … and the gaping crowds reached over each other’s shoulders to stare at the offender, pressing forward eager, wondering, startled faces, which to Theos looked far more spectral than real, seen in the shimmering green radiance that was thrown flickering upon them from the luminous Arch above the Altar. The priests stood still in speechless indignation, . .

Lysia moved not at all, nor raised her eyes; only her lips parted in a very slight cold smile.

 

Seized with mortal dread, Theos gazed helplessly at his reckless, beautiful poet friend, who with head erect and visage white as a waning moon, haughtily confronted his Sovereign and audaciously asserted his right to be heard, even in the Holy place of worship!

The King was the first to break the breathless stillness: his words came harshly from his throat, . . and the great muscles in his neck seemed to swell visibly with his hardly controlled anger.

 

“Peace! … Thou art suddenly distraught, Sahluma! …” he said, in half-smothered, fierce accents—“How darest thou uplift thy clamorous tongue thus wantonly before Nagaya, and interrupt the progress of his Sacred Ritual? … check thy mad speech! … if ever yonder maid were thine, ‘tis certain she is thine no longer; … she hath offered herself, a voluntary sacrifice, and the gods are pleased to claim what thou perchance hast failed to value!”

 

For all answer, Sahluma flung himself desperately at the monarch’s feet. “Zephoranim!” he cried again … “I tell thee she is mine! … mine, as truly mine as Love can make her! Oh, she is chaster than lily-buds in her sweet body! … but in her spirit she is wedded—wedded to me, Sahluma, whom thou, O King, hast ever delighted to honor! And now must I kneel to thee in vain?—

thou whose victories I have sung, whose praises I have chanted in burning words that shall carry thy name forever with triumph, down to unborn generations? … Wilt thou become inglorious? … a warrior stricken strengthless by the mummeries of priestcraft,—

the juggleries of a perishing creed? Thou art the ruler of Al-Kyris,—thou and thou only! Restore to me this innocent virgin-life that has scarcely yet begun to bloom! … speak but the word and she is saved! … and her timely rescue shall add lustre to the record of thy noblest deeds!”

 

His matchless voice, full of passionate pulsations, exercised for a moment a resistless influence and magnetic charm. The King’s lowering brows relaxed,—and a gleam of pity passed like light across his countenance. Instinctively he extended his hand to raise Sahluma from his humble attitude, as though, even in his wrath, he were conscious of the immense intellectual superiority of a great Poet to ever so great a King; and a thrill of involuntary compassion seemed at the same time to run sympathetically through the vast congregation. Theos drew a quick breath of relief, and glanced at Niphrata, … how cold and unconcerned was her demeanor! … Did she not hear Sahluma’s pleading in her behalf? … No matter!—she would be saved, he thought, and all would yet be well!

 

And truly it now appeared as if mercy, and not cruelty, were to be the order of the hour, . . for just then the Priest Zel, after having exchanged a few inaudible words with Lysia, advanced again to the front of the Shrine and spoke in distinct tones of forced gentleness and bland forbearance:

 

“Hear me, O King, Princes and People! … Whereas it has unhappily occurred, to the wonder and sorrow of many, that the holy Spouse of the divine Nagaya is delayed in her desired departure, by the unforeseen opposition and unedifying contumacy of Sahluma, Poet Laureate of this realm; and lest it may be perchance imagined by the uninitiated, that the maiden is in any way unwilling to fulfil her glorious destiny, the High and Immaculate Priestess of the Shrine doth bid me here pronounce a respite; a brief interval wherein, if the King and the People be willing, he who is named Sahluma shall, by virtue of his high renown, be permitted to address the Virgin-victim and ascertain her own wishes from her own lips. Injustice cannot dwell within this Sacred Temple,—and if, on trial, the maiden chooses the transitory joys of Earth in preference to the everlasting joys of the Palaces of the Sun, then in Nagaya’s name shall she go free!—inasmuch as the god loves not a reluctant bride, and better no Sacrifice at all, than one that is grudgingly consummated!”

 

He ceased,—and Sahluma sprang erect, his eyes sparkling, his whole demeanor that of a man unexpectedly disburdened from some crushing grief.

 

“Thanks be unto the benevolent destinies!” he exclaimed, flashing a quick glance of gratitude toward Lysia, . . the statuesque Lysia, on whose delicately curved lips the faintly derisive smile still lingered … “And in return for the life of my Niphrata I will give a thousand jewels rare beyond all price to deck Nagaya’s tabernacle!—and I will pour libations to the Sun for twenty days and nights, in token of my heart’s requital for mercy well bestowed!”

 

Stooping he kissed the King’s hand,—whereupon at a sign from Zel, one of the priests attired in scarlet unfastened Niphrata’s bound hands, and led her, as one leads a blind child, straight up to where Sahluma and Theos stood, close beside the King, who, together with many others, stared curiously upon her. How fixed and feverishly brilliant were her large dark-blue eyes! … how set were the sensitive lines of her mouth!—how indifferent she seemed, how totally unaware of the Laureate’s presence! The priest who brought her retired into the background, and she remained where he left her, quite mute and motionless. Oh, how every nerve in Theos’s body throbbed with inexpressible agony as he beheld her thus! The wildest remorse possessed him, . . it was as though he looked on the dim picture of a ruin which he himself had recklessly wrought, . . and he could have groaned aloud in the horrible vagueness of his incomprehensible despair! Sahluma caught the girl’s hand, and peered into her white, still face.

 

“Niphrata! .. .Niphrata!” he said in a tremulous half-whisper, “I am here,—Sahluma! …