V
THE CHAPEL PERILOUS
"Swift as a bird or a thought," says the old harper of the Northern Sea.The Wanderer's thoughts in the morning were swift as night birds, flyingback and brooding over the things he had seen and the words he had heardin the Queen's chamber. Again he stood between this woman and the oathwhich, of all oaths, was the worst to break. And, indeed, he was littletempted to break it, for though Meriamun was beautiful and wise, hefeared her love and he feared her magic art no less than he feared hervengeance if she were scorned. Delay seemed the only course. Let himwait till the King returned, and it would go hard but he found somecause for leaving the city of Tanis, and seeking through new adventuresthe World's Desire. The mysterious river lay yonder. He would ascend theriver of which so many tales were told. It flowed from the land of theblameless _AEthiopians_, the most just of men, at whose tables the veryGods sat as guests. There, perchance, far up the sacred stream, in aland where no wrong ever came, there, if the Fates permitted, he mightfind the Golden Helen.
If the Fates permitted: but all the adventure was of the Fates, who hadshown him to Meriamun in a dream.
He turned it long in his mind and found little light. It seemed that ashe had drifted through darkness across a blood-red sea to the shores ofKhem, so he should wade through blood to that shore of Fate which theGods appointed.
Yet after a while he shook sorrow from him, arose, bathed, anointedhimself, combed his dark locks, and girded on his golden armour. For nowhe remembered that this was the day when the Strange Hathor should standupon the pylon of the temple and call the people to her, and he wasminded to look upon her, and if need be to do battle with that whichguarded her.
So he prayed to Aphrodite that she would help him, and he poured outwine to her and waited; he waited, but no answer came to his prayer.Yet as he turned away it chanced that he saw his countenance in the widegolden cup whence he had poured, and it seemed to him that it had grownmore fair and lost the stamp of years, and that his face was smooth andyoung as the face of that Odysseus who, many years ago, had sailed inthe black ships and looked back on the smoking ruins of windy Troy. Inthis he saw the hand of the Goddess, and knew that if she might notbe manifest in this land of strange Gods, yet she was with him. And,knowing this, his heart grew light as the heart of a boy from whomsorrow is yet a long way off, and who has not dreamed of death.
Then he ate and drank, and when he had put from him the desire of foodhe arose and girded on the sword, Euryalus's gift, but the black bow heleft in its case. Now he was ready and about to set forth when Rei thePriest entered the chamber.
"Whither goest thou, Eperitus?" asked Rei, the instructed Priest. "Andwhat is it that has made thy face so fair, as though many years had beenlifted from thy back?"
"'Tis but sweet sleep, Rei," said the Wanderer. "Deeply I slept lastnight, and the weariness of my wanderings fell from me, and now I am asI was before I sailed across the blood-red sea into the night."
"Sell thou the secret of this sleep to the ladies of Khem," answered theaged priest, smiling, "and little shalt thou lack of wealth for all thydays."
Thus he spake as though he believed the Wanderer, but in his heart heknew that the thing was of the Gods.
The Wanderer answered:
"I go up to the Temple of the Hathor, for thou dost remember it isto-day that she stands upon the pylon brow and calls the people to her.Comest thou also, Rei?"
"Nay, nay, I come not, Eperitus. I am old indeed, but yet the bloodcreeps through these withered veins, and, perchance, if I came andlooked, the madness would seize me also, and I too should rush to myslaying. There is a way in which a man may listen to the voice of theHathor, and that is to have his eyes blindfolded, as many do. But eventhen he will tear the bandage from his eyes, and look, and die with theothers. Oh, go not up, Eperitus--I pray thee go not up. I love thee--Iknow not why--and am little minded to see thee dead. Though, perchance,"he added, as though to himself, "it would be well for those I serve ifthou wert dead, thou Wanderer, with the eyes of Fate."
"Have no fear, Rei," said the Wanderer, "as it is doomed so shall I dieand not otherwise. Never shall it be told," he murmured in his heart,"that he who stood in arms against Scylla, the Horror of the Rock,turned back from any form of fear or from any shape of Love."
Then Rei wrung his hands and went nigh to weeping, for to him it seemeda pitiful thing that so goodly a man and so great a hero should thusbe done to death. But the Wanderer passed out through the city, and Reiwent with him for a certain distance. At length they came to the roadset on either side with sphinxes, that leads from the outer wall ofbrick to the garden of the Temple of Hathor, and down this road hurrieda multitude of men of all races and of every age. Here the princewas borne along in his litter; here the young noble travelled in hischariot. Here came the slave bespattered with the mud of the fields;here the cripple limped upon his crutches; and here was the blind manled by a hound. And with each man came women: the wife of the man, orhis mother, or his sisters, or she to whom he was vowed in marriage.Weeping they came, and with soft words and clinging arms they strove tohold back him whom they loved.
"Oh, my son! my son!" cried a woman, "hearken to thy mother's voice. Gonot up to look upon the Goddess, for if thou dost look then shalt thoudie, and thou alone art left alive to me. Two brothers of thine I bore,and behold, both are dead; and wilt thou die also, and leave me, whoam old, alone and desolate? Be not mad, my son, thou art the dearestof all; ever have I loved thee and tended thee. Come back, I pray--comeback."
But her son heard not and heeded not, pressing on toward the Gates ofthe Heart's Desire.
"Oh, my husband, my husband!" cried another, young, of gentle birth, andfair, who bare a babe on her left arm and with the right clutched herlord's broidered robe. "Oh, my husband, have I not loved thee and beenkind to thee, and wilt thou still go up to look upon the deadly gloryof the Hathor? They say she wears the beauty of the Dead. Lovest thoume not better than her who died five years agone, Merisa the daughter ofRois, though thou didst love her first? See, here is thy babe, thy babe,but one week born. Even from my bed of pain have I risen and followedafter thee down these weary roads, and I am like to lose my life for it.Here is thy babe, let it plead with thee. Let me die if so it must be,but go not thou up to thy death. It is no Goddess whom thou wilt see,but an evil spirit loosed from the under-world, and that shall be thydoom. Oh, if I please thee not, take thou another wife and I will makeher welcome, only go not up to thy death!"
But the man fixed his eyes upon the pylon tops, heeding her not, and atlength she sank upon the road, and there with the babe would have beencrushed by the chariots, had not the Wanderer borne her to one side ofthe way.
Now, of all sights this was the most dreadful, for on every side rosethe prayers and lamentations of women, and still the multitude of menpressed on unheeding.
"Now thou seest the power of Love, and how if a woman be but beautifulenough she may drag all men to ruin," said Rei the Priest.
"Yes," said the Wanderer; "a strange sight, truly. Much blood hath thisHathor of thine upon her hands."
"And yet thou wilt give her thine, Wanderer."
"That I am not minded to do," he answered; "yet I will look upon herface, so speak no more of it."
Now they were come to the space before the bronze gates of the pylon ofthe outer court, and there the multitude gathered to the number of manyhundreds. Presently, as they watched, a priest came to the gates,that same priest who had shown the Wanderer the bodies in the baths ofbronze. He looked through the bars and cried aloud:
"Whoso would enter into the court and look upon the Holy Hathor let himdraw nigh. Know ye this, all men, the Hathor is to him who can win her.But if he pass not, then shall he die and be buried within the temple,nor shall he ever look upon the sun again. Of this ye are warned. Sincethe Hathor came again to Khem, of men seven hundred and three have goneto win her, and of bodies seven hundred and two lie within the vaults,for of all these men Phara
oh Meneptah alone hath gone back living. Yetthere is place for more! Enter, ye who would look upon the Hathor!"
Now there arose a mighty wailing from the women. They clung madly aboutthe necks of those who were dear to them, and some clung not in vain.For the hearts of many failed them at the last, and they shrank fromentering in. But a few of those who had already looked upon the Hathorfrom afar, perchance a score in all, struck the women from them andrushed up to the gates.
"Surely thou wilt not enter in?" quoth Rei, clinging to the arm of theWanderer. "Oh, turn thy back on death and come back with me. I pray theeturn."
"Nay," said the Wanderer, "I will go in."
Then Rei the Priest threw dust upon his head, wept aloud, and turned andfled, never stopping till he came to the Palace, where sat Meriamun theQueen.
Now the priest unbarred a wicket in the gates of bronze, and one by onethose who were stricken of the madness entered in. For all of thesehad seen the Hathor many times from afar without the wall, and now theycould no more withstand their longing. And as they entered two otherpriests took them by the hand and bound their eyes with cloths, so thatunless they willed it they might not see the glory of the Hathor, butonly hear the sweetness of her voice. But two there were who would notbe blindfolded, and of these one was that man whose wife had fainted bythe way, and the other was a man sightless from his youth. For althoughhe might not see the beauty of the Goddess, this man was made mad by thesweetness of her voice. Now, when all had entered in, save theWanderer, there was a stir in the crowd, and a man rushed up. He wastravel-stained, he had a black beard, black eyes, and a nose hooked likea vulture's beak.
"Hold!" he cried. "Hold! Shut not the gates! Night and day have Ijourneyed from the host of the Apura who fly into the wilderness. Nightand day have I journeyed, leaving wife and flocks and children and thePromise of the Land, that I may once more look upon the beauty of theHathor. Shut not the gates!"
"Pass in," said the priest, "pass in, so shall we be rid of one of thosewhom Khem nurtured up to rob her."
He entered; then, as the priest was about to bar the wicket, theWanderer strode forward, and his golden armour clashed beneath theportal.
"Wouldst thou indeed enter to thy doom, thou mighty lord?" asked thepriest, for he knew him well again.
"Ay, I enter; but perchance not to my doom," answered the Wanderer. Thenhe passed in and the brazen gate was shut behind him.
Now the two priests came forward to bind his eyes, but this he would notendure.
"Not so," he said; "I am come here to see what may be seen."
"Go to, thou madman, go to! and die the death," they answered, and ledall the men to the centre of the courtyard whence they might seethe pylon top. Then the priests also covered up their eyes and castthemselves at length upon the ground; so for a while they lay, and allwas silence within and without the court, for they waited the comingof the Hathor. The Wanderer glanced through the bars of bronze at themultitude gathered there. Silent they stood with upturned eyes, even thewomen had ceased from weeping and stood in silence. He looked at thosebeside him. Their bandaged faces were lifted and they stared towards thepylon top as though their vision pierced the cloths. The blind man, too,stared upward, and his pale lips moved, but no sound came from them. Nowat the foot of the pylon lay a little rim of shadow. Thinner and thinnerit grew as the moments crept on towards the perfect noon. Now there wasbut a line, and now the line was gone, for the sun's red disc burnedhigh in the blue heaven straight above the pylon brow. Then suddenly andfrom afar there came a faint sweet sound of singing, and at the firstnote of the sound a great sigh went up through the quiet air, from allthe multitude without. Those who were near the Wanderer sighed also, andtheir lips and fingers twitched, and he himself sighed, though he knewnot why.
Nearer came the sweet sound of singing, and stronger it swelled, tillpresently those without the temple gate who were on higher ground caughtsight of her who sang. Then a hoarse roar went up from every throat, andmadness took them. On they rushed, dashing themselves against the gatesof bronze and the steep walls on either side, and beat upon them madlywith their fists and brows, and climbed on each other's shoulders,gnawing at the bars with their teeth, crying to be let in. But the womenthrew their arms about them and screamed curses on her whose beautybrought all men to madness.
So it went for a while, till presently the Wanderer looked up, and lo!upon the pylon's brow stood the woman's self, and at her coming all wereonce more silent. She was tall and straight, clad in clinging white,but on her breast there glowed a blood-red ruby stone, fashioned likea star, and from it fell red drops that stained for one moment thewhiteness of her robes, and then the robe was white again. Her goldenhair was tossed this way and that, and shone in the sunlight, her armsand neck were bare, and she held one hand before her eyes as though tohide the brightness of her beauty. For, indeed, she could not be calledbeautiful but Beauty itself.
And they who had not loved saw in her that first love whom no man hasever won, and they who had loved saw that first love whom every man haslost. And all about her rolled a glory--like the glory of the dying day.Sweetly she sang a song of promise, and her voice was the voice of eachman's desire, and the heart of the Wanderer thrilled in answer to it asthrills a harp smitten by a cunning hand; and thus she sang:
Whom hast thou longed for most, True love of mine? Whom hast thou loved and lost? Lo, she is thine!
She that another wed Breaks from her vow; She that hath long been dead Wakes for thee now.
Dreams haunt the hapless bed, Ghosts haunt the night, Life crowns her living head, Love and Delight.
Nay, not a dream nor ghost, Nay, but Divine, She that was loved and lost Waits to be thine!
She ceased, and a moan of desire went up from all who heard.
Then the Wanderer saw that those beside him tore at the bandages abouttheir brows and rent them loose. Only the priests who lay upon theground stirred not, though they also moaned.
And now again she sang, still holding her hand before her face:
Ye that seek me, ye that sue me, Ye that flock beneath my tower, Ye would win me, would undo me, I must perish in an hour, Dead before the Love that slew me, clasped the Bride and crushed the flower.
Hear the word and mark the warning, Beauty lives but in your sight, Beauty fades from all men's scorning In the watches of the night, Beauty wanes before the morning, and Love dies in his delight.
She ceased, and once more there was silence. Then suddenly she bentforward across the pylon brow so far that it seemed that she must fall,and stretching out her arms as though to clasp those beneath, showed allthe glory of her loveliness.
The Wanderer looked, then dropped his eyes as one who has seen thebrightness of the noonday sun. In the darkness of his mind the world waslost, and he could think of naught save the clamour of the people, whichfretted his ears. They were all crying, and none were listening.
"See! see!" shouted one. "Look at her hair; it is dark as the raven'swing, and her eyes--they are dark as night. Oh, my love! my love!"
"See! see!" cried another, "were ever skies so blue as those eyes ofhers, was ever foam so white as those white arms?"
"Even so she looked whom once I wed many summers gone," murmured athird, "even so when first I drew her veil. Hers was that gentle smilebreaking like ripples on the water, hers that curling hair, hers thatchild-like grace."
"Was ever woman so queenly made?" said a fourth. "Look now on the browof pride, look on the deep, dark eyes of storm, the arched lips, and theimperial air. Ah, here indeed is a Goddess meet for worship."
"Not so I see her," cried a fifth, that man who had come from the hostof the Apura. "Pale she is and fair, tall indeed, but delicately shaped,brown is her hair, and brown are her great eyes like the eyes of a stag,and ah, sadly she looks upon me, looking for my love."
"M
y eyes are opened," screamed the blind man at the Wanderer's side. "Myeyes are opened, and I see the pylon tower and the splendid sun. Lovehath touched me on the eyes and they are opened. But lo! not one shapehath she but many shapes. Oh, she is Beauty's self, and no tongue maytell her glory. Let me die! let me die, for my eyes are opened. I havelooked on Beauty's self! I know what all the world journeys on to seek,and why we die and what we go to find in death."