VII
LORD RIBATA'S GARDEN
Istar did not keep her word about Charmides' Greek lyre. It was notreturned to him at all, whole or broken. So, after a little waiting, theGreek, hungry for an instrument, was obliged to replace his old one withone of the awkwardly fashioned Babylonian lyres, on which his skill wasadmirable, but which did not by any means produce the music of the Greekinstrument. He felt the circumstance in two ways: one of disappointmentwith his goddess, the other as an omen--that the last tie that had boundhim to Sicily was forever broken. Henceforth, in everything butcomplexion and religion, he was of Babylon. The Great City held everyinterest of his life. Everything that belonged to it was dear to him;and he wished nothing better than to have no distinction made, even inthought, between him and the natives of Chaldea. Only Apollo and thememory of his mother lived in his heart to remind him that his childhoodhad been something far away. And more than once, by night, thinking ofthe mother's loneliness, he sent her, by Castor and Pollux, ferventmessages of affection. Perhaps Heraia received these and was content;for a mother-heart is quick to feel even a thought, though it begenerated ten thousand miles away, and a mother can rise to anysacrifice for the happiness of the child of her flesh.
By the middle of July Charmides began to know Babylon, its ways andbyways, very thoroughly. At first he had lost himself almost every timethat he ventured from Ramua's side; but, by much wandering to find hisway back again, he learned the streets and their crooked twistings asnot all of the old inhabitants knew them. He was likewise in a fair wayto overcome his greatest and most uncomfortable difficulty--thelanguage. His necessarily constant intercourse with those that knew noword of any tongue but their own, very shortly familiarized him with thecommonest phrases of every-day life. Beyond this, his greatest help camefrom the temple in which he worked. During the long hours that he spentbehind the high place, listening to the plaints and confessions ofdevout ones, and while he chanted the replies put into his mouth by theattendant priest, he had, perforce, to occupy his mind in some way; andthe way most obvious was by trying to comprehend what he was saying, andwhat the people before him were talking about. With the assistance ofthe words that he had acquired, and his very slight natural aptitude,supplemented by an ardent desire to learn, he made quite astonishingprogress. By the end of July it would have disturbed the priest not alittle to know the thoughts that were in Charmides' head as, little bylittle, the gigantic system of deceit unfolded itself before him. ButCharmides was discreet. Never by word or look did he betray the leastknowledge of the Babylonish tongue, but performed his required dutiesregularly, and appeared satisfied with the position, while becominggradually more and more disgusted with the realities of this newreligion.
Some days before it was generally known in the city, Charmides learnedfrom the temple-priests about Istar's journey to Erech. That herdeparture was to be for good was generally understood among thepriesthood, though of the intended murder not a single member of thelower orders dreamed. The Greek, however, was sorrowful enough over hergoing; and it was the desire of his heart to be one of the musicians ofthe voyage. Of this, however, there was no hope; for Charmides hadbecome too valuable an adjunct of the temple of Sin to be spared evenfor a week to the service of Sin's daughter. He, however, with Ramua andBaba, went down to the water-front by the great bridge, and looked, forwhat the Greek in his heart thought to be the last time, on the form ofher for whom he had come to Babylon. For the next few days he was veryunhappy. It seemed to him that he had in some way been untrue to hisvow. Babylon was his Babylon no more; and were it not for Ramua, hewould have set out instantly for Erech. But Ramua had become even morenecessary to his happiness than the great Istar. To leave her would meanundying regret. Either way, apparently, his existence would beincomplete, and what to do to remedy it was a cause of speculation thatwas happily ended by Istar's return to Babylon. She came unheralded, ina covered barge, and went back to her temple in a close-fastened litter,surrounded by a troop of Belshazzar's cavalry. To all the strange talesand sinister rumors circulated through the city about this unexpectedreturn, Charmides turned a deaf ear. She, his goddess, was again in herabode. It was enough.
During this time the affairs of the Greek's non-professional life hadbecome very absorbing. When his peace of mind was restored by thehome-coming of Istar, he discovered that he was utterly and hopelesslyin love with Ramua. That Ramua returned some part of his affection hesometimes, for a wild moment or so, permitted himself to hope; moreoften doubted so entirely that his misery seemed to be complete. Shecould not care for him, of course. Yet, barring the two or three hours aday that he spent in the temple, the two of them were never apart whilethe sun was above the horizon; and no one ever heard Ramua object to thearrangement, or appear to be wearied by it. Eyes, ears, mind, and soulof each were all for the other, though as yet neither could believe thatthe other cared. And neither of them, in their joyous selfishness,perceived the little creature who stood apart from them both, watchingin silence that which was bringing heart-break into her eyes. Poor Baba!Many a time by day, and more often still by night, Zor's silken coat waswet with her mistress' tears. Beltani had caught more than one stifledsob coming from the hard pallet in the dark hours; but Ramua, wideawake, perhaps, yet dreaming of sunshine and bright hair, never heard atall, or else put it down to that most unpoetic of all sounds--a snore.
One evening, some time after Istar's return from Erech, when Charmideshad become more proficient in the Chaldean tongue, and when he also feltquite at home with Beltani and the two girls, he asked a question ofwhich the effect on the family was something entirely unlooked for. Itwas simply as to how Ramua obtained her daily supply of fresh flowers.
A silence, complete and strained, followed his words. Ramua flushed.Baba hid her face on Zor's back; and even Beltani looked uncomfortable.Charmides, puzzled, and wholly ignorant of any reason for the silence,instantly feared some embarrassing mistake in his language, and quicklyrepeated the question in different words, wishing to remedy any possibleimpropriety that might have crept into his former speech. Ramua nowlooked at him imploringly; but Baba, turning to her mother, said, in alow voice:
"Let us tell him. Then Bazuzu will no longer have to wait till so late.Now he loses his sleep."
Beltani considered for a moment or two.
"Let us trust him. He will be silent," said Baba again.
"No! No, indeed!" cried Ramua, unhappily.
Baba regarded her sister with the slightest hint of scorn. "Will youalways deceive him?" she said, bitterly.
Then Charmides, not a little disturbed by these unpleasantly suggestivewords, looked at Ramua to find her lips quivering and her eyes ominouslybright.
"Tell me of this thing! Let me hear, that I may know all!" he demanded,stumbling more than usual, in his new-born anxiety.
Then Beltani, perceiving that matters were being made to look worse thanthey actually were, took the affair into her own hands, and proceeded toanswer at great length, with the assistance of many gestures and muchtautology, Charmides' unfortunate question.
The tenement of Ut, in which Beltani and her family dwelt, was, as ofcourse Charmides knew, separated from the palace and the extensivegardens of Lord Ribata Bit-Shumukin only by the canal of the New Year,and by two or three hundred feet of waste ground on the other side ofthe stream. And in these gardens behind the palatial residence, bloomed,all the year round, flowers of every kind known to Babylonia and theWest, in such countless numbers that a hundred blossoms taken daily fromthe wilderness of fragrance, could never be missed. Moreover, neither myLord Ribata nor any member of his household, ever, so far as Beltaniknew, appeared in these grounds. Therefore, if, every night, blackBazuzu went, unseen and unheard, into the gardens, and very carefullyselected enough flowers for Ramua's basket next morning, could eitherthe gods or Ribata be very angry? Nay, indeed, had not my lord himselfon more than one occasion actually purchased a rose of his own from theflower-girl on the steps of the temple of Istar? And w
as not this a signfrom heaven that the great gods winked at the whole proceeding? Ramuamight weep if she would. She had countenanced the arrangement for twoyears, and it was not exactly honest to be smitten now with repentance.
Beltani finished her explanation a little defiantly and looked up, notwithout apprehension, to find Charmides' face filled with relief, and ascheerful as possible. Ramua refused to look at him, though he wassmiling at her broadly; and it was only when he said, "Let us togethergo and seek thy flowers for to-night," that she flashed at him a look ofhappy acquiescence.
Charmides' eyes grew brighter yet. Evidently that fateful garden wasgoing to prove a little paradise for him. He had a quick and deliciousvision of himself and of her shut far away from everything sordid andunbeautiful, wandering together through fragrant, flowery paths in themoonlight, whispering words meant only for the stars and for themselves.Moreover, this was a dream that might be repeated many times; for, whileRamua must sell flowers for her livelihood, and Bazuzu deserved a nightof unbroken rest, it--
Here this pleasing reverie came to a halting finish. Charmides suddenlyfelt that Baba's mournful, owl-like eyes were reading his thoughts as hewould have read a Greek tablet. Beltani, too, was by no means blind; andshe, at any rate, had not the slightest intention of permitting Ramuaand the hare-brained Greek to go alone together into Ribata's garden.The good woman's mind was of a purely Babylonish turn, and the ideasattendant on a fine sense of honor had never occurred to her. Charmides,therefore, was not of high enough birth, nor possessed of sufficientwealth, to admit of any dangerous philandering. This fact Beltani madeknown to him in terms as terse and to the point as only she was capableof using. It was nothing that Charmides should clench his fists and growpurple with rage at the insult; or that Ramua was ready to dissolve intears of shame. To these things the good housewife closed her eyespleasantly. What did they signify? She was mistress of the situation,and, as such, the feelings of others had no effect on her.
The sunset hour was over at last, and the small household descended fromthe roof and entered their rooms, where the regular incantation was madeand the prayers to Marduk and to Sin were said. Then Beltani and herdaughters passed into the inner room, and Charmides was left alone forthe night with Bazuzu.
In spite of his ill-humor, the Greek could not lay him down for thenight without his address to his patron, Father Apollo. Bazuzu watchedhim as he knelt, his face turned towards the west, and saw his fretfulexpression gradually soften to one of reverence and love as themelodious words left his lips. Charmides did not guess how often and howclosely Bazuzu followed his devotions, nor realize that, in the heart ofthe deformed black man, a very deep affection for himself had beengrowing throughout the summer. His prayers finished, he gave Bazuzugood-night and a smile, as he lay back upon his pallet. But sleep wasnot very ready to his eyes. Now that the explanation had been made, nowthat Ramua's tearful face was no longer pleading with him, the matter ofthe flowers took on rather a different aspect in his mind. In the year539 B.C. the Greek notions of justice were strict and well defined, andthe laws were enforced far more stringently than in later times. Theword theft was a synonym for dishonor. And Charmides was thoroughlyimbued with the traditions of his race. Therefore, now that he had begunto consider the affair impartially, it had not a pleasant look. Twist itas he would, he could not but see that Ribata was being wronged, andthat--much worse!--the maiden who was dearer to him than anything elsein the world, had been for two years an open party to this wrong. To besure, Beltani was the originator of the scheme, and Beltani was thegirl's mother. Implicit obedience to one's parents was also another lawof Greek social life. Was Ramua, after all, so much to blame? Then, asCharmides thought of his own mother, her honor, her goodness, hersympathy, there came to him the wish that he might be to Ramua all thatand more than his own mother had been to him. He determined that Ribatashould some day be made aware of this whole matter, and should be repaidfor his loss by Charmides himself, who would have the right to do sowhen Ramua was his wife.
This thought came to him together with the first touch of drowsiness;and so comforting was the idea, and so heavy were his eyelids, that,five minutes later, the Greek was dead to the world. Thus he did notknow when Bazuzu, basket in hand, slipped quietly away into the night.It was much earlier than the slave had been accustomed to depart; but,now that Charmides knew the household secret, Beltani's slave might asof old choose his hour of departure on the unlawful errand.
It was very dark to-night as he crept down the alley to the bank of thecanal. The moon had passed the full, and its red rim had just peeredover the horizon, as the slave, having crossed the little bridge overthe stream and traversed the intervening distance between it and thegarden, stood before the high hedge and the concealed opening in thewall through which he was accustomed to enter Ribata's domain.
Bazuzu could have come to this place blindfolded and have entered withperfect accuracy. Now, for the thousandth time, he crawled in on hishands and knees, drew the basket after him, straightened up, and,looking neither to the right nor to the left, hurried over to the longbed of flaming red lilies, now in their prime, and, in consequence,Ramua's chief stock in trade till the paler flowers of early autumnshould come into bloom. Here, with by no means ungentle fingers, theblack man began to pluck the shapely flowers, selecting them with suchcare that no one, casually overlooking the bed, could have perceived howmany had been taken. Bazuzu was in no hurry. Perhaps, once here, heenjoyed being in the garden. Any one might, indeed, have enjoyed it, forthe place was rarely beautiful. The newly risen moon, showing now abovethe shadowy, distant towers of the various temples, flooded the dreamyrecesses of tropical verdure with a soft, bluish light that drew forthperfumes from every blossom, and caused the new-fallen dew in theflower-cups to glisten like opals. Occasionally Bazuzu paused in hiswork, and lifted up his head to look about him in the luxuriantstillness. Dimly he realized that even sleep rested and refreshed him nomore than this. He did not now regret that Ramua and Charmides had notbeen allowed to come here together. To what raptures of love their soulswould have been drawn by the beauty of this scene, the black man did notknow. In the midst of his small, untutored ecstasy, he passedfrom the lilies to a clump of rose-trees that overhung a pond wherelotus-blossoms floated. It was here, while bending over the perfectspecimens of the fair flower of Persia, that his quick ear caught thesound of steps--footsteps--coming measuredly towards him.
Bazuzu's heart gave a throb of terror as he looked up the path leadingto the palace. Yes, it was true. Two figures--men--were approaching.Clasping the basket close to his breast, Bazuzu knelt and drew himselfas far back as possible in the shadow of the rose thicket. He was nomore than hidden when the men passed him, so closely that the richmantle of one of them dragged over the slave's hand. Down to the hedgeand then back by the same beaten path, always slowly, always earnestlyconversing together, moved the twain; and as they passed him again,Bazuzu had recovered himself sufficiently to recognize both. One wasRibata himself, lord of the house, whom Bazuzu knew, as a matter ofcourse, to be Beltani's landlord. The other was a figure familiar toevery one in Babylon: Bel-Shar-Uzzur, governor of the city andheir-apparent to the throne. It was he who talked most. Bazuzu watchedhim interestedly, for it was no small thing to sit listening to theconversation of royal princes. Hitherto, when he had chanced to see theprince, or when he had heard others tell of seeing him, Belshazzar hadworn an air of over-confident and joyous pride, of haughtiness, even,for which he was none too well loved by his people. Perhaps now it wasonly the whiteness of the moonlight that changed him so; but to-nightthere was neither pride nor joy in that imperious face. A great pallorwas on him and his look was troubled. From the fragments of speech thathe caught, the slave could not determine what difficulty Belshazzarmight be in. He spoke often of temples and of priests, and there wassome one whom he never called by name, but spoke of as "she," orsometimes, extravagantly, as "Belit"--"goddess."
In his interest in the scene before him, Bazu
zu gradually forgot thedanger of his position. A dozen times the two lords had brushed him asthey passed, but never chanced to see the shadowy figure huddled attheir very feet. Presently, however, in his eagerness to catch the endof a sentence, Bazuzu crept an inch or two forward, and did not drawback when the two turned towards him once more from the end of the path.They drew near, and Belshazzar's eyes were fixed on the ground. Ribatawas speaking, when, three feet from the thicket, Belshazzar suddenlyseized his comrade's arm and stopped short.
"Dost thou, fearing danger, keep about thee concealed guards,Bit-Shumukin?" he cried, roughly.
"What sayest thou, Belshazzar?"
For answer, the prince strode forward, stooped, seized Bazuzu by thecollar, and dragged him to his feet.
There was a silence. The slave, cold with fear, stood open-mouthed, hiseyes wildly rolling, the basket still clasped tightly in his arms.Ribata, who had grown white with astonishment and anger, stood staringat him. Belshazzar, lips compressed and brows drawn together, movedaside.
"Are you of my house, knave? And for whom art thou here? Speak! Answerme!" And Ribata stamped upon the ground.
Bazuzu, remembering, even in his terror, the helplessness of Ramua,answered, shiveringly: "Yea, of thy house, O lord!"
"He lies, Bit-Shumukin," interrupted the prince, sharply. "His collar isof leather. Those of thy house--"
"Yes, yes!" cried Ribata, still more angrily. "Speak the truth, thouvillain, or--there is death in my garden. Who art thou?"
With thickening tongue and reluctant heart, Bazuzu made reply: "I am theslave of the Lady Beltani."
"And who is the Lady Beltani?"
"She dwells across the canal, in the tenement Ut of my lord."
"Ho! _Lady_ Beltani! A dweller in Ut! And why, then, art thou here andnot in thy lady's own spacious gardens?"
Bazuzu helplessly held out his flower-basket.
Ribata seized it by the handle, and examined it and its contents. "Theseflowers--they go to beautify, no doubt, the person of the Lady Beltani?"
"My lord, they are sold by the Lady Ramua, her daughter, who sittethdaily on the steps of the platform at the temple of Istar, that she mayobtain bread-money for her mother. My lord knoweth well that thedwellers in the tenement of Ut know not gold."
"Ah! Ramua, the flower-seller, is thy mistress' daughter?" demandedBelshazzar, stepping forward a little.
Bazuzu inclined his head.
"Then, Bit-Shumukin, unless the knave lies again, the gods favor theewell. Have her brought to thee, the Lady Ramua. She is as fair a maid asany in Babylon; and as she has sold thy flowers--let her now pay forthem."
Ribata turned to his friend with interest in his face. "Do you laugh atme, Bit-Shamash, or is this thing so?"
"It is so, Ribata. Send only for the maid, and see if Bel is not kindlydisposed to thee."
"Send for her here? Now? Nay--the knave no doubt lies."
"By my father's throne, I think he does not! The maiden Ramua is knownto me. Have I not passed her daily for months, sitting on the templesteps? Have I not oftentimes worn a handful of flowers bought from herfor a _se_, to win a smile from her maiden lips? Br-r! Ribata! Thou hastthe blood of Oannes[9] in thy veins. Send for her to be brought beforethee. She will teach thee the beauty of Sin's bright beams better thanI. Buy her, Ribata, and keep her for thine own. 'Tis those that cannotbe bought that make men miserable. Send for this maiden, I tell thee.Brother, I go home."
Finishing this rather cynical advice, Belshazzar turned on his heel andstarted for the palace. Bit-Shumukin, catching him by the arm, tried allhis eloquence to make his friend remain. The prince was obdurate, in hislight, self-willed way, and finally concluded the argument by saying:
"Now I will send a slave to thee from the court-yard, who shall go withthis man to bring the lady to thee from her dwelling. Quarrel not withthy fate, O son of ingratitude! May Marduk bless the meeting!"
And thereupon Belshazzar departed and went his way, leaving Ribata alonewith the still trembling slave. By this time Bazuzu was utterlywretched, bitterly angry with himself for speaking Ramua's name, vaguelyhating Belshazzar for his mockery, thoroughly apprehensive of the powerof the man who stood at his elbow tentatively regarding him.Fortunately, Belshazzar lost no time in carrying out his own suggestion,and presently a slave of Ribata's household appeared, coming rapidlydown the path from the mansion. Reaching the spot where his masterstood, he inclined himself profoundly, and waited his lord's will. Aftera little hesitation Bit-Shumukin, seeing nothing else to be done, said,in a tone of quiet command:
"Thou, Baniya, must go, in company with this slave here, to the tenementof Ut, across the canal, and bring to me, from her abode, the LadyRamua--her, and none other. See that none but you attends or follows herhither. In this place I shall wait for your return. Behold, I havespoken. Hasten to obey."
The slave inclined himself again, and then, driving Bazuzu peremptorilybefore him, left the garden by a gate that was always fastened on theinside. Once without, the two started together across the bare fieldleading to the foot-bridge that crossed the canal. Baniya knew the wayas well as Bazuzu himself, for the tenement of Ut was one of Ribata'slargest buildings, and any one familiar with the poor quarter of the NewYear was sure to know where this house was. Therefore there was no hopeof Bazuzu's leading the man astray. There was but one thing that hecould do now for Ramua, and this he tried.
In spite of his ungainliness, which amounted to actual deformity, Bazuzuwas a powerful, and, in a way, an agile man. He had come victorious outof more than one brawl, and physical pain meant very little to him. Now,as the two of them came to the edge of the bridge, the black man fell astep behind his companion, and after a second or two darted quickly uponBaniya, seized him about the body, and lifted him high in the air withthe intention of flinging him into the canal and then taking to hisheels in an opposite direction. But Bazuzu had reckoned on Baniya'slosing his head at the crucial instant; and this Baniya did not do. Themoment that he was seized, the sinewy little slave twisted one arm fromthe other's grasp, drew something from his girdle, and struck twice atBazuzu's brawny shoulder. The black slave uttered a quick cry anddropped his burden. His right arm fell helpless at his side, and the twored streams that had gushed forth from different points in his shoulder,met on the upper arm and flowed in a thick flood down to his hand.
"Let the slave of the Lady Ramua guide me quickly to her," observedBaniya, with a grin at the distant moon.
And Bazuzu, thoroughly cowed, made no answer, but started in advance ofhis companion across the bridge.
The door to the general room of Beltani's _menage_ was open, as Bazuzuhad left it an hour before. Across the threshold lay Zor, quietlyasleep. From within came the faint, regular sound of Charmides'breathing. Everything was perfectly still. As Bazuzu started to enterthe first room, however, Baniya pulled him back, and, once more drawinghis knife, breathed softly:
"I will enter that room first, slave, and my knife is in my hand. Thoushalt rouse the Lady Ramua from her sleep and bring her to me alone. Butif any man or any other living thing in this house wakes, know that thoushalt not escape death at my hands. Now heed me!"
Bazuzu signified his acquiescence by a nod, and presently Baniya wasleft alone beside Charmides' pallet, while the black man crept on hishands and knees into the other room. Ramua's bed was near the door.Beltani lay in the far corner, Baba on the other side of the room.Beside Ramua Bazuzu stopped and knelt down. All three women were asleep.Beltani's light snores brought reassurance to the slave's heart, thoughthe task of waking one of the sleepers in this room without rousingeither of the other two seemed, on the face of it, impossible.Nevertheless, Bazuzu must try for his life. Therefore, with the mostdelicate of touches he laid a finger on Ramua's forehead. She quivered alittle. Her eyes flew open. Then, seeing the strange shadow beside her,she asked, softly:
"What is it? Thou, my Baba?"
Bazuzu, speaking between his teeth in a tone scarcely audible, answered:"It is I,
Bazuzu, Lady Ramua. Rise thou without noise and creep into theouter room. There we may more safely speak."
Forthwith he set the example by starting upon his hands and knees backinto the other room, where Baniya waited and the Greek slept.
Ramua, instinctively dreading her mother, and fearing also the unguessederrand of Bazuzu, implicitly obeyed the words of the slave andmade her way skilfully, without the faintest sound, out of her darksleeping-place into the moonlit living-room. Seeing her, Baniya steppedswiftly forth, causing an exclamation to rise to her lips. Bazuzu stoodone side, his head bowed, till Ribata's slave had insolently examinedher, from the pretty head with its loosened hair, down the ragged tunicto her delicately arched feet. Then a slight smile broke over the faceof my lord's servant, and he bowed as he whispered:
"Will the Lady Ramua deign to follow me?"
Ramua, who had been regarding the man in mute amazement, now turnedquickly round and looked to Bazuzu for some explanation of thisastonishing request. Bazuzu, weary, suffering from his wounds, andutterly despairing over Ramua's impending fate, lowered his head stillfurther.
"Lord Ribata waits," he muttered.
"Ribata!" In her terror, Ramua scarcely whispered the words. She lookedwildly from Bazuzu, who had lost all hope, to Baniya, uneasy withimpatience. Then, slowly, she turned her eyes to the spot whereCharmides lay. He slept. The Greek slept tranquilly on while she passedthrough this great peril! It was the sight of him there, sunk inoblivion, that suddenly decided Ramua. That he _could_ sleep throughthis time was an omen that he was not for her. A sudden anger againsthim rose up in her breast. With her heart full to bursting of tears, ofterror, of misery, she started forward into the moonlight, following thefootsteps of the swiftly moving slave.
In the mean time my lord, kept up later than he had expected to-night,was trying to amuse himself with the beauties of his unfrequentedgarden. While he wandered up and down the deserted paths, he could notbut muse on the rather curious and entertaining incident of the night.Ribata was not by nature an ungenerous man; and now, as he looked abouthim on the extreme beauty of his surroundings, it seemed rather wellthan otherwise that some one should have had so much benefit from hisunheeded flowers. Certainly the plants seemed to have suffered no harmat Bazuzu's hands. Instead, the gardeners had, in all probability, beensaved a daily hour or so of labor of the same kind. Then Ribata ponderedfor a little on the code of laws that might put a slave to death forjust such a deed--something that did no harm to any one, and on theother hand helped a poor family to live. Certainly, for a judge of theroyal court, Ribata was not narrow; neither was he harsh. Presently, ashe continued his walk, he came upon the basket still containing ahandful of red lilies, lying, as he himself had finally dropped it,beside the rose thicket. Ribata picked it up, and, as he moved on again,began, half absently, to pluck flowers--such flowers as Bazuzu had neverdared take--and to put them into the light receptacle. My lord confessedto himself that his work was not artistically done. Great clumps ofjasmine from their carefully trained vines, thick bunches of heliotrope,heavy lotus-blossoms with their rubber-like stalks, golden roses andwaxen camellias, the rarest of his garden's lustrous treasures, hepulled and dragged about with his unpractised hands, and threw in afragrant, tangled heap into Ramua's basket.
It was soon filled to overflowing, and then Ribata went back to the gatethrough which Baniya must return. Near this was an arbor overgrown withsweet, white flowers, and here he seated himself to wait. He was notimpatient. The beauty of this unvisited part of his own domain had madea strong impression on him, and he leaned back comfortably to gaze outupon the moonlight and to dream unwonted dreams. Around and above himthe heavy jasmine exhaled its overpowering sweetness into the limpidmoonlight. Near him row upon row of brilliant lilies lay like scarletbutterflies asleep. Presently, from a distant thicket, a nightingalebegan to pour forth its full-throated song; and then, as Ribata in aquiet ecstasy raised his head to listen, the gate opened, and Ramua,bare-footed, with flowing hair, came into the garden.
She could not, from where she stopped, see Ribata; and he, wishing toknow her first, did not immediately rise. Baniya, however, broke in uponhim by running forward, performing his obeisance, and demanding to knowif he had done well. My lord peremptorily dismissed him, and then,rising reluctantly, went to the maiden.
"Ramua is made welcome to Ribata's dwelling-place," he said, quietly,looking at but not offering to touch her.
Ramua's reply was to cover her face with her hair, and to fold bothhands across her breast, in token of the deepest woe.
Somewhat against his will, Ribata changed his tactics. Assuming a toneof severity that did not in the least accord with his mood, he said:"And it was you, then, that despatched your slave into my garden, thathe might steal my blossoms for your gain?"
The girl fell upon her knees and touched her forehead to the earth."Alas, my lord! Alas, it is true! My lord, be merciful to me! May mylord grant a little time and he shall be repaid--shall be repaid forall. I will repay him. By day and by night shall my hands labor. I willearn a maneh of silver wherewith to buy new plants for his garden, if hewill let me now depart from him. May the great gods put mercy into theheart of my lord!"
Ribata looked down at her with a smile that she could not see. An honestmaid, apparently, yet too pretty to give back to toil and poverty. Thesolitude, the song of the nightingale, and the intoxicating odors of thejasmine, had put Ribata into a sentimental mood. He lifted Ramua in hisarms, carried her inside the arbor, and placed her tenderly upon theseat that he had occupied. Then, while she vainly struggled to freeherself from his touch, he continued his scrutiny of her face and form.
Ramua was choking with terror at her position. It seemed to her nowthat, rather than have come hither, she should have killed herself. YetCharmides had slept through her trial! Charmides! Doubtless he wassleeping yet. And, unreasonable as it was, that thought angered heranew. Ah! When he did finally awake he would find his world changed forhim.
These bitter thoughts, that occupied her mind even as she strove to holdoff from the man at her side, were broken in upon by Ribata, whoplaintively addressed her:
"Lady Ramua, I have no need for manehs of silver. They are mine inplenty. At the thought that you labored for my sake my heart would becut with each hour of your work. Nay, maiden, rather than that, I offeryou or your mother as many golden manehs as you desire if you, fair one,will become a flower of my garden that shall bloom near me forever. Thisthat is around you now, and my palace yonder, and slaves and silks andperfumes, sandal-wood and frankincense, wines of Helbon and spices fromthe East, soft couches and embroidered garments, shall be all your own.Come, then, Ramua! Let us out of the sweet night into my house! Andto-morrow shall thy mother be made glad with wealth. Say that thou wiltfollow me, my beautiful one!"
Now this offer was a very fair and more than generous one--for the day.There was no insult in it. So much Ramua knew. And she knew also that itwas something that Beltani would have heard with unbounded delight. Itwas a chance that any girl of her station might regard as a gift fromthe silver sky. For this reason Ramua could show neither scorn noranger. She had no refuge but tears. Weep, however, she certainly did,and to much purpose; for, before the deluge, Ribata was perfectlyhelpless. He was also not a little amazed, for he knew no man who hadever been refused such an offer. It was not a little mortifying to hisvanity; and as he thought the matter over while still she wept, histemper began to rise. Poor man! He was unaware that he was pittedagainst a youth with a halo of shining hair, eyes like the summer sky,the physique of a Tammuz, and a voice like the notes of an ivory flute.Even he would scarcely have expected to compete with these things,added, as they were, to the hope, faint though it might be, of an honestmarriage with such masculine beauty. But in his ignorance the good manbegan to regard his rebellious prize with no little impatience.
"Well, maid," he observed at length, "are these silly tears all thineanswer? Hast thou no other word? If so, thou shalt be carried in!" r />
Then Ramua, terrified in earnest, repeated, tremulously: "My lord! Havepity! I will work! I will repay the debt! Only, in the name of the greatSin, be merciful!"
"Now is this girl surely a fool!" muttered Bit-Shumukin to himself."Listen thou, Ramua! I will take no money from thee."
"Then let my lord take my life," she answered, wearily.
"Gladly!" was the eager reply.
Misunderstanding her entirely, he would have seized her in his armsagain, but that the girl, shuddering a little, drew the knife from hisbelt and pressed it into his hand.
"Ramua is ready!" she gasped, faintly.
Ribata uttered an exclamation. "Child! Would I kill thee, thinkestthou?"
She looked up at him stupidly. "Thou hast said it."
Now Ribata was amazed. Fool she might be, indeed, but she was no coward.He had not thought any woman possessed of such ready courage. Steppingback a little, while she still sat there before him, drooping andsilent, he considered the situation. He was not brutal at heart,Bit-Shumukin; and he was too experienced to lose his head through thatmad intoxication known only to youth in its first freedom. Besides this,no woman in all Babylon could have said that he had not been perfectlyfair with her. This present matter being, in his wide knowledge, unique,demanded a unique finale. Presently he took up the basket with its rareand fragrant burden, and put it into Ramua's passive hand.
"There, my maid, are thy morrow's flowers. Go thy way with them, andsell them as is thy wont. But may it be thy last day upon the steps ofthe temple of Istar. To-morrow, at sunset, I and my slaves will come tothee in thy dwelling. By then thy heart must be softened towards me.For, as Sin sheds his light from above, I swear that I will have theefor mine own! Go thy way in peace to thy home, and the great gods bringsleep to thine eyelids."
He made way for her to pass; and Ramua, panting with anxiety to escape,still clinging to her basket, rose and ran from him, swiftly as a deer,to the unfastened gate. Ribata watched her go, and heard the little sobof relief that she gave as she found Bazuzu, weak from loss of blood andbitter anxiety, awaiting her outside.
So Ribata, pondering philosophically upon the mysteries of woman-nature,and looking forward with no little interest to the sunset of the morrow,wended his way slowly towards his palace.