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Ardath

<h2 id="id01300" style="margin-top: 4em">CHAPTER XXIV.</h2> <h5 id="id01301">THE FALL OF THE OBELISK.</h5> In less time than he could have imagined possible, he found himself in the densely crowded Square, buffeting and struggling against an angry and rebellious mob, who half resentful and half terrified, had evidently set themselves to resist the determined charge made by the mounted soldiery into their midst. For once Sah-luma's appearance created no diversion,—he was pushed and knocked about as unceremoniously as if he were the commonest citizen of them all, He seemed carelessly surprised at this, but nevertheless took his hustling very good humoredly, and, keeping his shoulders well squared forced his way with Theos by slow degrees through the serried ranks of people, many of whom, roused to a sort of frenzy threw themselves in front of the advancing horses of the guard, and seizing the reins held on to these like grim death, reckless of all danger. As yet no weapons were used either by the soldiers or the populace,—the former seemed for the present contented to simply ride down those who impeded their progress,—and that they had done so in terrible earnest was plainly evident from the numbers of wounded creatures that lay scattered about on every side in an apparently half dying condition. Yet there was surely a strange insensibility to suffering among them all, inasmuch as in spite of the contention and confusion there were no violent shrieks of either pain or fury,—no exclamations of rage or despair,—no sound whatever indeed, save a steady, sullen, monotonous snarl of opposition, above which the resonant voice of the Prophet Khosrul rang out like a silver clarion. "O people doomed and made desolate!" he cried.. "O nation once mighty, brought low to the dust of destruction! Hear me, ye strong men and fair women!—and you, ye poor little children who never again shall see the sun rise on the thousand domes of Al-Kyris! Lift up the burden of bitter lamentation!—lift it up to the Heaven of Heavens, the Throne of the All-Seeing Glory, the Giver of Law, the Destroyer of Evil! Weep! … weep for your sins and the sins of your sons and your daughters—cast off the jewels of pride,—rend the fine raiment, … let your tears be abundant as the rain and dew! Kneel down and cry aloud on the great and terrible Unknown God—the God ye have denied and wronged,—the Founder of worlds, who doth hold in His Hand the Sun as a torch, and scattereth stars with the fire of His breath! Mourn and bend ye all beneath the iron stroke of Destiny!—for know ye not how fierce a thing has come upon Al-Kyris? … a thing that lips cannot utter nor words define,—a thing more horrible than strange sounds in thick darkness,—more deadly than the lightning when it leaps from Heaven with intent to slay! O City stately beyond all cities! Thy marble palaces are already ringed round with a river of blood!—the temples of thy knowledge wherein thy wise men have studied to exceed all wisdom, begin to totter to their fall,—thou shalt be swept away even as a light heap of ashes, and what shall all thy learning avail thee in that brief and fearful end! Hear me, O people of Al-Kyris!—Hear me and cease to strive among yourselves, … resist not thus desperately the King's armed minions, for to them I also speak and say,—Lo! the time approaches when a stronger hand than that of the mighty Zephoranim shall take me prisoner and bear me hence where most I long to go! Peace, I command you! … in the Name of that God whose truth I do proclaim … Peace!" As he uttered the last word an instantaneous hush fell upon the crowd,—every head was turned toward his grand, gaunt, almost spectral figure; and even the mounted soldiery reined up their plunging, chafing steeds and remained motionless as though suddenly fixed to the ground by some powerful magnetic spell. Theos and Sah-luma took immediate advantage of this lull in the conflict, to try and secure for themselves a better point of vantage, though there was much difficulty in pressing through the closely packed throng, inasmuch as not a man moved to give them passage-room. Presently, however, Sah-luma managed to reach the nearest one of the two great fountains, which adorned either side of the Obelisk, and, springing as lightly as a bird on its marble edge, he stood erect there, his picturesque form presenting itself to the view like a fine statue set against the background of sun-tinted foaming water that dashed high above him and sprinkled his garments with drops of sparkling spray. Theos at once joined him, and the two friends, holding each other fast by the arm, gazed down on the silent, mighty multitude around them,—a huge concourse of the citizens of Al-Kyris, who, strange as this part of their behavior seemed, still paid no heed to the presence of their Laureate, but with pale, rapt faces and anxious, frightened eyes, riveted their attention entirely on the sombre, black-garmented Prophet whose thin ghostly arms, outstretched above them, appeared to mutely invoke in their behalf some special miracle of mercy. "See you not".. whispered Sah-luma to his companion,—"how yon aged fool wears upon his breast the Symbol of his own Prophecy? 'Tis the maddest freak to thus display his death-warrant!—Only a month ago the King issued a decree, warning all those whom it might concern, that any one of his born subjects presuming to carry the sign of Khosrul's newly invented Faith should surely die! And that the crazed reprobate carries it himself makes no exemption from the rule!" Theos shuddered. His eyes were misty, but he could very well see the Emblem to which Sah-luma alluded,—it was the Cross again! … the same sacred Prefigurement of things "to come," according to the perplexing explanation given by the Mystic Zuriel whom he had met in the Passage of the Tombs, though to his own mind it conveyed no such meaning. What was it then? … if not a Prototype of the future, was it a Record of the Past? He dared not pursue this question,—it seemed to send his brain reeling on the verge of madness! He made no answer to Sah-luma's remark,—but fixed his gaze wistfully on the tall, melancholy Shape that like a black shadow darkened the whiteness of the Obelisk,—and his sense of hearing became acute almost to painfulness when once more Khosrul's deep vibrating tones peeled solemnly through the heavy air. "God speaks to Al-Kyris!" and as the Prophet enunciated these words with majestic emphasis a visible thrill ran through the hushed assemblage.. "God saith: Get thee up, O thou City of Pleasure, from thy couch of sweet wantonness,—get thee up, gird thee with fire, and flee into the desert of forgotten things! For thou art become a blot on the fairness of My world, and a shame to the brightness of My Heaven!—thy rulers are corrupt,—thy teachers are proud of heart and narrow in judgment,—thy young men and maidens go astray and follow each after their own vain opinions,—in thy great temples and holy places Falsehood abides, and Vice holds court in thy glorious palaces. Wherefore because thou hast neither sought nor served Me, and because thou hast set up gold as thy god, and a multitude of riches as thy chief good, lo! now mine eyes have grown weary of beholding thee, and I will descend upon thee suddenly and destroy thee, even as a hill of sand is destroyed by the whirlwind,—and thou shalt be known in the land of My creatures no more! Woe to thee that thou hast taken pride in thy wisdom and learning, for therein lies thy much wickedness! If thou wert truly wise thou wouldst have found Me,—if thou wert nobly learned thou wouldst have understood My laws,—but thou art proved altogether gross, foolish, and incapable,—and the studies whereof thou hast boasted, the writings of thy wise men, the charts of sea and land, the maps of thy chief astronomers, the engraved tablets of learning, in gold, in silver, in ivory, in stone, thy chronicles of battle and conquest, the documents of thine explorers in far countries, the engines of thine invention whereby thou dost press the lightning into thy service, and make the air respond to the messages of thy kings and councillors,—all these shall be thrust away into an everlasting silence, and no man hereafter shall be able to declare that such things have ever been!" Here the speaker paused,—and Theos, surveying the vast listening crowds, fancied they looked like an audience of moveless ghosts rather than human beings,—so still, so pallid, so grave were they, one and all. Khosrul continued in softer, more melancholy accents, that, while plaintive, were still singularly impressive. "O my ill-fated, my beloved fellow-countrymen!" he exclaimed, extending his arms with a vehemently pleading gesture as though in the excess of emotion he would have drawn all the people to his heart.—"Ye unhappy ones? … have I not given ye warning? Have I not bidden ye beware of this great evil which should come to pass?—Evil for which there is no remedy,—none,—neither in the earth, nor the sea, nor the invisible comforts of the air! … for God hath spoken, and who shall contradict the thunder of His voice! Behold the end is at hand of all the pleasant things of Al-Kyris,—the feasting and the musical assemblies, the cymbal-symphonies and the choir-dances, the labors of students and the triumphs of sages,—all these shall seem but the mockery of madness in the swift-descending night of overwhelming destruction! Woe is me that ye would not listen when I called, but turned every man to his own devices and the following after idols? Nay now, what will ye do in extremity?—Will ye chant hymns to the Sun? Lo, he is deaf and blind for all his golden glory, and is but a taper set in the window of the sky, to be extinguished at God's good pleasure! Will ye supplicate Nagaya? O fools and desperate!—how shall a brute beast answer prayer!—Vain, vain is all beseeching,—shut forever are the doors of escape,—therefore cover yourselves with the garments of burial,—prepare each one his grave and rich funeral things,—gather together the rosemary and myrrh, the precious ointments and essences, the strings of gold and the jewelled talismans whereby ye think to fight against corruption,—and fall down, every man in his own wrought hollow in the ground, face turned to earth and die—for Death hath broken through the strong gates of Al-Kyris, and hath taken the City Magnificent captive unknowingly! Alas, alas! that ye would not follow whither I led,—that ye would not hearken to the Vision of the Future, dimly yet gloriously revealed! … the Future! … the Future!" … He broke off suddenly, and raising his eyes to the deep blue sky above him, seemed for a moment as though he were caught up in the cloud of some wondrous dream. Still the enormous throng of people stood hushed and motionless,—not a word, not a sound escaped them,—there was something positively appalling in such absolute immobility,—at least it appeared so to Theos, who could not understand this dispassionate behavior on the part of so large and lately excited a multitude. All at once a voice marvellously tender, clear, and pathetic trembled on the silence,—was it, could it be the voice of Khosrul? Yes! but so changed, so solemn, so infinitely sweet, that it might have been some gentle angel speaking: "Like a fountain of sweet water in the desert, or the rising of the moon in a gloomy midnight," he said slowly,—"Even so is the hope and promise of the Supremely Beloved! Through the veiling darkness of the coming ages His Light already shines upon my soul! O blessed Advent! … O happy Future! … O days when privileged Humanity shall bridge by Love the gulf between this world and Heaven! What shall be said of Him who cometh to redeem us, O my foreseeing spirit! What shall be told concerning His most marvellous Beauty? Even as a dove that for pity of its helpless younglings doth battle soft-breasted with a storm, even so shall He descend from out His glory sempiternal, and teach us how to conquer Sin and Death,—aye, even with the meekness of a little child He shall approach, and choose His dwelling here among us. O heavenly Child! O wisdom of God contained in innocence! … happy the learning that shall learn from Thee!—noble the pride that shall humble itself before Thy gentleness! [Footnote: The idea of a Saviour who should be born as Man to redeem the world was prevalent among all nations and dates from the remotest ages. Coming down to what must be termed quite a modern period compared to that in which the city of Al-Kyris had its existence, we find that the Romans under Octavius Caesar were wont to exclaim at their sacred meetings, "The times FORETOLD BY THE SYBIL are arrived; may a new age soon restore that Saturn? SOON MAY THE CHILD BE BORN WHO SHALL BANISH THE AGE OF IRON?" Tacitus and Suetonius both mention the prophecies "in the sacred books of the priests" which declare that the "East shall be in commotion," and that "MEN FROM JUDEA" shall subject "everything to their dominion."] O Prince of Manhood and Divinity entwined! Thou shalt acquaint Thyself with human griefs, and patiently unravel the perplexities of human longings!—to prove Thy sacred sympathy with suffering, Thou shalt be content to suffer,—to explain the mystery of Death, Thou shalt even be content to die. O people of Al-Kyris, hear ye all the words that tell of this Wonderful, Inestimable King of Peace,—mine aged eyes do see Him now, far, far off in the rising mist of unformed future things!—the Cross—the Cross, on which His Man's pure Life dissolves itself in glory, stretches above me in spreading beams of light! … Ah! 'tis a glittering pathway in the skies whereon men and the angels meet and know each other! He is the strong and perfect Spirit, that shall break loose from Death and declare the insignificance of the Grave,—He is the lingering Star in the East that shall rise and lighten all spiritual darkness—the unknown, unnamed Redeemer of the World, … the Man-God Saviour that SHALL COME?" "SHALL come?" cried Theos, suddenly roused to the utmost pitch of frenzied excitement, and pronouncing each word with loud and involuntary vehemence … "Nay! … for He HAS come! HE DIED FOR US, AND ROSE AGAIN FROM THE DEAD MORE THAN EIGHTEEN HUNDRED YEARS AGO!" * * * * * A frightful silence followed,—a breathless cessation of even the faintest quiver of sound. The mighty mass of people, apparently moved by one accord, turned with swift, stealthy noiselessness toward the audacious speaker, … thousands of glittering eyes were fixed upon him in solemnly inquiring wonderment, while he himself, now altogether dismayed at the effect of his own rash utterance, thought he had never experienced a more awful moment! For it was as though all the skeletons he had lately seen in the Passage of the Tombs had suddenly clothed themselves with spectral flesh and hair and the shadowy garments of men, and had advanced into broad daylight to surround him in their terrible lifeless ranks, and wrench from him the secret of an after-existence concerning which THEY were ignorant! How ghostly and drear seemed that dense crowd in this new light of his delirious fancy! A clammy dew broke out on his forehead,—he saw the blue skies, the huge buildings in the Square, the Obelisk, the fountains, the trees, all whirling round him in a wild dance of the dizziest distraction, … when Sah-luma's rich voice close to his ear recalled his wandering senses: "Why, man, art thou drunk or mad?" and the Laureate's face expressed a kind of sarcastic astonishment,—"What a fool thou hast made of thyself, good comrade! … By my soul, how shall thy condition be explained to these open-mouthed starers below! See how they gape upon thee! … thou art most assuredly a noticeable spectacle! … and yon maniac Prophet doth evidently judge thee as one of his craft, a fellow professional howler of marvels, else he would scarcely deign to fix his eyes so obstinately on thy countenance! Nay, verily thou dost outrival him in the strangeness of thy language! … What moved thee to such frenzied utterance? Surely thou hast a stroke of the sun!—thy words were most absolutely devoid of reason! … as senseless as the jabber of an idiot to his own shadow on the wall!" Theos was mute,—he had no defense to offer. The crowd still stared upon him,—and his heart beat fast with a mingled sense of fear and pride—fear of his present surroundings,—pride that he had spoken out his conviction boldly, reckless of all consequences. And this pride was a most curious thing to analyze, because it did not so much consist in the fact of his having openly confessed his inward thought, as that he felt he had gained some special victory in thus ACKNOWLEDGING HIS BELIEF IN THE POSITIVE EXISTENCE OF THE "Saviour" who formed the subject of Khosrul's prophecy. Full of a singular sort of self-congratulation which yet had nothing to do with selfishness, he became so absorbed in his own reflections that he started like a man brusquely aroused from sleep when the Prophet's strong grave voice apostrophized him personally over the heads of the throng: "Who and what art thou, that dost speak of the FUTURE as though it were the PAST? Hast thou held converse with the Angels, and is Past and Future ONE with thee in the dream of the departing Present? Answer me, thou stranger to the city of Al-Kyris! … Has God taught THEE the way to Everlasting Life?" Again that awful silence made itself felt like a deadly chill on the sunlit air,—the quiet, patient crowds seemed waiting in hushed suspense for some reply which should be as a flash of spiritual enlightenment to leap from one to the other with kindling heat and radiance, and vivify them all into a new and happier existence. But now, when Theos most strongly desired to speak, he remained dumb as stone! … vainly he struggled against and contended with the invisible, mysterious, and relentless despotism that smote him on the mouth as it were, and deprived him of all power of utterance, … his tongue was stiff and frozen, … his very lips were sealed! Trembling violently, he gazed beseechingly at Sah-luma, who held his arm in a firm and friendly grasp, and who, apparently quickly perceiving that he was distressed and embarrassed, undertook himself to furnish forth what he evidently considered a fitting response to Khosrul's adjuration. "Most venerable Seer!" he cried mockingly, his bright face radiant with mirth and his dark eyes flashing a careless contempt as he spoke—"Thou art as short-sighted as thine own auguries if thou canst not at once comprehend the drift of my friend's humor! He hath caught the infection of thy fanatic eloquence, and, like thee, knows naught of what he says: moreover he hath good wine and sunlight mingled in his blood, whereby he hath been doubtless moved to play a jest upon thee. I pray thee heed him not! He is as free to declare thy Prophecy is of the PAST, as thou art to insist on its being of the FUTURE,—in both ways 'tis a most foolish fallacy! Nevertheless, continue thy entertaining discourse, Sir Graybeard! . . . and if thou must needs address thyself to any one soul in particular, why let it be me,—for though, thanks to mine own excellent good sense, I have no faith in angels nor crosses, nor everlasting life, nor any of the strange riddles wherewith thou seekest to perplex and bewilder the brains of the ignorant, still am I Laureate of the realm, and ready to hold argument with thee,—yea!—until such time as these dumfounded soldiers and citizens of Al-Kyris shall remember their duty sufficiently to seize and take thee captive in the King's great name!" As he ceased a deep sigh ran, like the first sound of a rising wind among trees, through the heretofore motionless multitude,—a faint, dawning, yet doubtful smile reflected itself on their faces,—and the old familiar shout broke feebly from their lips: "Hail, Sah-luma! Let us hear Sah-luma!" Sah-luma looked down upon them all in airy derision. "O fickle, terror-stricken fools!" he exclaimed—"O thankless and disloyal people! What!—ye WILL see me now? … ye WILL hear me? … Aye! but who shall answer for your obedience to my words! Nay, is it possible that I, your country's chosen Chief Minstrel, should have stood so long among ye disregarded! How comes it your dull eyes and ears were fixed so fast upon yon dotard miscreant whose days are numbered? Methought t'was but Sah-luma's voice that could persuade ye to assemble thus in such locust-like swarms.. since when have the Poet and the People of Al-Kyris ceased to be as one?" A vague, muttering sound answered him, whether of shame or dissatisfaction it was difficult to tell. Khosrul's vibrating accent struck sharply across that muffled murmur. "The Poet and the People of Al-Kyris are further asunder than light and darkness!" he cried vehemently—"For the Poet has been false to his high vocation, and the People trust in him no more!" There was an instant's hush, … a hush as it seemed of grieved acquiescence on the part of the populace,—and during that brief pause Theos's heart gave a fierce bound against his ribs as though some one had suddenly shot at him with a poisoned arrow. He glanced quickly at Sah-luma,—but Sah-luma stood calmly unmoved, his handsome head thrown back, a cynical smile on his lips and his eyes darker than ever with an intensity of unutterable scorn. "Sah-luma! … Sah-luma!" and the piercing, reproachful voice of the Prophet penetrated every part of the spacious square like a sonorous bell ringing over a still landscape: "O divine Spirit of Song pent up in gross clay, was ever mortal more gifted than thou! In thee was kindled the white fire of Heaven,—to thee were confided the memories of vanished worlds, . . for thee God bade His Nature wear a thousand shapes of varied meaning,—the sun, the moon, the stars were appointed as thy servants,—for thou wert born POET, the mystically chosen Teacher and Consoler of Mankind! What hast thou done, Sah-luma, . . what hast thou done with the treasures bestowed upon thee by the all-endowing Angels? … How hast thou used the talisman of thy genius? To comfort the afflicted? … to dethrone and destroy the oppressor? … to uphold the cause of Justice? … to rouse the noblest instincts of thy race? … to elevate and purify the world? … Alas, alas!—thou hast made Thyself the idol of thy muse, and thou being but perishable, thy fame shall perish with thee! Thou hast drowsed away thy manhood in the lap of vice, . . thou hast slept and dreamed when thou should have been awake and vigilant! Not I, but THOU shouldst have warned the people of their coming doom! … not I, but THOU shouldst have marked the threatening signs of the pregnant hour,—not I, but THOU shouldst have perceived the first faint glimmer of God's future scheme of glad salvation,—not I, but THOU shouldst have taught and pleaded, and swayed by thy matchless sceptre of sweet song, the passions of thy countrymen! Hadst thou been true to that first flame of Thought within thee, O Sah-luma, how thy glory would have dwarfed the power of kings! Empires might have fallen, cities decayed, and nations been absorbed in ruin,—and yet thy clear-convincing voice, rendered imperishable by its faithfulness should have sounded forth in triumph above the foundering wrecks of Time! O Poet unworthy of thy calling! … How thou hast wantoned with the sacred Muse! … how thou hast led her stainless feet into the mire of sensual hypocrisies, and decked her with the trumpery gew-gaws of a meaningless fair speech!—How thou hast caught her by the virginal hair and made her chastity the screen for all thine own licentiousness! … Thou shouldst have humbly sought her benediction,—thou shouldst have handled her with gentle reverence and patient ardor,—from her wise lips thou shouldst have learned how best to PRACTICE those virtues whose praise thou didst evasively proclaim, … thou shouldst have shrined her, throned her, worshiped her, and served her, . . yea! … even as a sinful man may serve an Angel who loves him!" Ah, what a strange, cold thrill ran through Theos as he heard these last words! 'As a sinful man may serve an Angel who loves him!' How happy the man thus loved! … how fortunate the sinner thus permitted to serve! … WHO WAS HE? … Could there be any one so marvellously privileged? He wondered dimly,—and a dull, aching pain throbbed heavily in his brows. It was a very singular thing too, that he should find himself strongly and personally affected by Khosrul's address to Sah-luma, yet such was the case, … so much so, indeed, that he accepted all the Prophet's reproaches as though they applied solely TO HIS OWN PAST LIFE! He could not understand his emotion, … nevertheless he kept on dreamily regretting that things WERE as Khosrul had said, … that he had NOT fulfilled his vocation,—and that he had neither been humble enough nor devout enough nor unselfish enough to deserve the high and imperial name of POET. Round and round like a flying mote this troublesome idea circled in his brain, … he must do better in future, he resolved, supposing that any future remained to Him in which to work, . . HE MUST REDEEM THE PAST! … Here he roused his mental faculties with a start and forced himself to realize that it was SAH-LUMA to whom the Prophet spoke, . . Sah-luma, ONLY Sah-luma,—not himself! Then straightway he became indignant on his friend's behalf,—why should Sah-luma be blamed? … Sah-luma was a glorious poet!—a master-singer of singers! … his fume must and should endure forever! … Thus thinking, he regained his composure by degrees, and strove to assume the same air of easy indifference as that exhibited by his companion, when again Khosrul's declamatory tones thundered forth with an absoluteness of emphasis that was both startling and convincing: "Hear me, Sah-luma, Chief Minstrel of Al-Kyris!—hear me, thou who hast willfully wasted the golden moments of never-returning time! THOU ART MARKED OUT FOR DEATH!—death sudden and fierce as the leap of the desert panther on its prey! … death that shall come to thee through the traitorous speech of the evil woman whose beauty has sapped thy strength and rendered thy glory inglorious!… death that for thee, alas! shall be mournful and utter oblivion! Naught shall it avail to thee that thy musical weaving of words hath been graven seven times over, on tablets of stone and agate and ivory, of gold and white silex and porphyry, and the unbreakable rose-adamant,—none of these shall suffice to keep thy name in remembrance,—for what cannot be broken shall be melted with flame, and what cannot be erased shall be buried miles deep in the bosom of earth, whence it never again shall be lifted into the light of day! Aye! thou shalt be FORGOTTEN!—forgotten as though thou hadst never sung,—other poets shall chant in the world, yet maybe none so well as thou!—other laurel and myrtle wreaths shall be given by countries and kings to bards unworthy, of whom none perchance shall have thy sweetness! … but thou,—thou the most grandly gifted, gift-squandering Poet the world has ever known, shalt be cast among the dust of unremembered nothings, and the name of Sah-luma shall carry no meaning to any man born in the coming here-after! For thou hast cherished within Thyself the poison that withers thee, … the deadly poison of Doubt, the Denial of God's existence, … the accursed blankness of Disbelief in the things of the Life Eternal! … wherefore, thy spirit is that of one lost and rebellious,—whose best works are futile,—whose days are void of example,—and whose carelessly grasped torch of song shall be suddenly snatched from thy hand and extinguished in darkness! God pardon thee, dying Poet! … God give thy parting soul a chance of penance and of sweet redemption! … God comfort thee in that drear Land of Shadow whither thou art bound! … God bring thee forth again from Chaos to a nobler Future! … Sin-burdened as thou art, my blessing follows thee in thy last agony! Sah-luma! … FALLEN ANGEL, SELF-EXILED FROM THY PEERS! … FAREWELL!" The effect of these strange words was so extraordinarily impressive, that for one instant the astonished and evidently affrighted crowds pressed round Sah-luma eagerly, staring at him in morbid fear and wonder, as though they expected him to drop dead before them in immediate fulfillment of the Prophet's solemn valediction. Theos, oppressed by an inward sickening sense of terror, also regarded him with close and anxious solicitude, but was almost reassured at the first glance. Never was a greater opposition offered to Khosrul's gloomy prognostications, than that contained in the handsome Laureate's aspect at that moment,—his supple, graceful figure alert with life, . . his glowing face flushed by the sun, and touched with that faintly amused look of serene scorn, . . his glorious eyes, brilliant as jewels under their drooping amorous lids, and the regal poise of his splendid shoulders and throat, as he lifted his head a little more haughtily than usual, and glanced indifferently down from his foothold on the edge of the fountain at the upturned, questioning faces of the throng, … all even to the careless balance and ease of his attitude, betokened his perfect condition of health, and the entire satisfaction he had in the consciousness of his own strength and beauty. He seemed about to speak, and raised his hand with the graceful yet commanding gesture of one accustomed to the art of elegant rhetoric, … when suddenly his expression changed, . . shrugging his shoulders lightly as who should say.. "Here comes the conclusion of the matter,—no time for further argument"—he silently pointed across the Square, while a smile dazzling yet cruel played on his delicately parted lips, . . a smile, the covert meaning of which was soon explained. For all at once a brazen roar of trumpets split the silence into torn and discordant echoes,—the crowd turned swiftly, and seeing who it was that approached, rushed hither and thither in the wildest confusion, making as though they would have fled, . . and in less than a minute, a gleaming cohort of mounted and armed spearmen galloped furiously into the thick of the melee. Following these came a superb car drawn by six jet-black horses that plunged and pranced through the multitude with no more heed than if these groups of living beings had been mere sheafs of corn, . . a car flashing from end to end with gold and precious stones, in which towered the erect, massive form of Zephoranim, the King. His dark face was ablaze with wrath, … tightly grasping the reins of his reckless steeds, he drew himself haughtily upright and turned his rolling, fierce black eyes indignantly from side to side on the scared people, as he drove through their retreating ranks, smiting down and mangling with the sharp spikes of his tall chariot-wheels men, women, and children without care or remorse, till he forced his terrible passage straight to the foot of the Obelisk. There he came to an abrupt standstill, and, lifting high his strong hand and brawny arm glittering with jewels, he cried: "Soldiers! Seize yon traitorous rebel! Ten thousand pieces of gold for the capture of Khosrul!" There was an instant of hesitation, … not one of the populace stirred to obey the order. Then suddenly, as though released by their monarch's command from some mesmeric spell, the before inactive mounted guards started into action, cantered sharply forward and surrounded the Obelisk, while the armed spearsmen closed together and made a swift advance upon the venerable figure that stood alone and defenseless, tranquilly awaiting their approach. But there was evidently some unknown and mysterious force pent up within the Prophet's feeble frame, for when the soldiers were just about an arm's length from him, they seemed all at once troubled and irresolute, and turned their looks away, as though fearing to gaze too steadfastly upon that grand, thought-furrowed countenance in which the eyes, made young by inward fervor, blazed forth with unearthly lustre beneath a silvery halo of tossed white hair. Zephoranim perceived this touch of indecision on the part of his men, and his black brows contracted in an ominous frown. "Halt!" he shouted fiercely, apparently to make it seem to the mob that the pause in the action of the soldiery was in compliance with his own behest, . . "Halt! … Bind him, and bring him hither, . . I myself will slay him!" "Halt!" echoed a voice, discordantly sharp and wild.. "Halt thou also, great Zephoranim! for Death bars thy further progress!" And Khosrul, manifestly possessed by some superhuman access of frenzy, leaped from his position on the back of the stone Lion, and slipping agilely through the ranks of the startled spearmen and guards, who were all unprepared for the suddenness and rapidity of his movements, he sprang boldly on the edge of the Royal chariot, and there clung to the jewelled wheel, looking like a gaunt aerial spectre, an ambassador of coming ruin. The King, speechless with amazement and fury, dragged at his huge sword till he wrenched it out of its sheath, . . raising it, he whirled it round his head so that it gave a murderous hiss in the air, … and yet.. was his strong arm paralyzed that he forbore to strike! "Zephoranim!" Khosrul, in terms that were piercing and dolorous as the whistling of the wind among hollow reeds,—"Zephoranim, THOU SHALT DIE TO-NIGHT! ART THOU READY? Art thou ready, proud King? … ready to be made less than the lowest of the low? Hush! … Hush!" and his aged face took upon itself a ghastly greenish pallor—"Hear you not the muttering of the thunder underground? There are strange powers at work! … powers of the undug earth and unfathomed sea! … hark how they tear at the stately foundations of Al-Kyris! … Flame! flame! it is already kindled!—it shall enwrap thee with more closeness than thy coronation robe, O mighty Sovereign! … with more gloating fondness than the serpent-twining arms of thy beloved! Listen, Zephoranim, listen!" Here he stretched out his skinny hand and pointed upwards,—his eyes grew fixed and glassy,—his throat rattled convulsively. At that moment the monarch, recovering his self-possession, once more lifted his sword with direct and deadly aim, but the Prophet, uttering a wild shriek, caught at his descending wrist and gripped it fast. "See.. See!" he exclaimed.. "Put up thy weapon! … Thou shalt never need it where thou art summoned! … Lo! how yon blood-red letters blaze against the blue of heaven! … There! … there it comes!—Read.. read! 'tis written plain.. 'AL-KYRIS SHALL FALL, AND THE KING SHALL DIE!'.. Hist … hist! … Dumb oracles speak and dead voices find tongue! … hark how they chant together the old forgotten warning: 'When the High Priestess Is the King's mistress Then fall Al-Kyris!' Fall Al-Kyris! … Aye! … the City of a thousand palaces shall fall to-night! … TO-NIGHT! … O night of desperate horror! … and thou, O King, SHALT DIE!" And as he shrilled the last word on the air with terrific emphasis, he threw up his arms like a man suddenly shot, and reeling backward fell heavily on the ground,—a corpse. A great cry went up from the crowd, . . the King leaned eagerly out of his car. "Is the fool dead, or feigning death?" he demanded, addressing one of a group of soldiers standing near. The officer stooped and felt the motionless body. "O great King, live forever! He is dead!" Zephoranim hesitated. Cruelty and clemency struggled for the mastery in the varying expression of his frowning face, but cruelty conquered. Grasping his sword firmly, he bent still further forward out of his chariot, and with one swift, keen stroke, severed the lifeless Prophet's head from its trunk, and taking it up on, the point of his weapon, showed it to the multitude. A smothered, shuddering sigh that was half a groan rippled through the dense throng—a sound that evidently added fresh irritation to the already heated temper of the haughty sovereign. With a savage laugh, he tossed his piteous trophy on the pavement, where it lay in a pool of its own blood, the white hair about it stained ruddily, and the still open eyes upturned as though in dumb appeal to heaven. Then, without deigning to utter another word, or to bestow another look upon the surrounding crowd of his disconcerted subjects, he gathered up his coursers' reins and prepared to depart. Just then the sun went behind a cloud, and only a side-beam of radiance shot forth, pouring itself straight down on the royally attired figure of the monarch and the headless body of Khosrul, and at the same time bringing into sudden and prominent relief the silver Cross that glittered on the breast of the bleeding corpse, and that seemed to mysteriously offer itself as the Key to some unsolved Enigma. As if drawn by one strangely mutual attraction, all eyes, even those of Zephoranim himself, turned instinctively toward the flashing Emblem, which appeared to burn like living fire on that perished mass of stiffening clay, . . and there was a brief silence,—a pause, during which Theos, who had watched everything with curiously calm interest, such as may be felt by a spectator watching the progress of a finely acted tragedy, became conscious of the same singular sensation he had already several times experienced,—namely, THAT HE HAD WITNESSED THE WHOLE OF THIS SCENE BEFORE! he remembered it quite well,—particularly that apparently trifling incident of the sunlight happening to shine so brilliantly on the dead man and his cross while the rest of the vast assemblage were in comparative shadow. It was very odd! … his memory was like a wonderful art-gallery in which some pictures were fresh of tint, while others were dim and faded, . . but this special "tableau" in the Square of Al-Kyris was very distinctly painted in brilliant and vivid colors on the sombre background of his past recollections, and he found the circumstance so remarkable that he was on the point of saying something to Sah-luma about it,—when the sun came out again in full splendor, and Zephoranim's spirited steeds started forward at a canter. The King, controlling them easily with one hand, extended the other majestically by way of formal salutation to his people, . . his tall, muscular form was displayed to the best advantage,—the narrow jewelled fillet that bound his rough dark locks emitted a myriad scintillations of light, . . his close-fitting coat-of-mail, woven from thousands of small links of gold, set off his massive chest and shoulders to perfection,—and as he moved along royally in his sumptuous car, the effect of his striking presence was such, that a complete change took place in the before sullen humor of the populace. For seeing him thus alive and well in direct opposition to Khosrul's ominous prediction,—even as Sah-luma also stood unharmed in spite of his having been apostrophized as a "dying" Poet,—the mob, always fickle and always dazzled by outward show, suddenly set up a deafening roar of cheering. The pallid hue of terror vanished from faces that had but lately looked spectrally thin with speechless dread, and crowds of servile petitioners and place-hunters began to press eagerly round their monarch's chariot, … when all at once a woman in the throng gave a wild scream and rushed away shrieking "THE OBELISK! … THE OBELISK!" Every eye was instantly turned toward the stately pillar of white granite that sparkled in the sunlight like an immense carven jewel, … great Heaven! … It was tottering to and fro like the unsteadied mast of a ship at sea! … One look sufficed,—and a frightful panic ensued—a horrible, brutish stampede of creatures without faith in anything human or divine save their own wretched personalities,—the King, infected by the general scare, urged his horses into furious gallop, and dashed through the cursing, swearing, howling throng like an embodied whirlwind,—and for a few seconds nothing seemed distinctly visible But a surging mass of infuriated humanity, fighting with itself for life. Theos alone remained singularly calm,—his sole consideration was for his friend Sah-luma, whom he entwined with one arm as he sprang down from the position they had hitherto occupied on the brink of the fountain, and made straight for the nearest of the six broad avenues that opened directly into the Square. Sah-luma looked pale, but was apparently unafraid,—he said nothing, and passively allowed himself to be piloted by Theos through the madly raging multitude, which, oddly enough, parted before them like mist before the wind, so that in a magically short interval they successfully reached a place of safety. And they reached it not a moment too soon. For the Obelisk was now plainly to be seen lurching forward at an angle of several degrees, . . strange muffled, roaring sounds were heard at its base, as though demons were digging up its foundations, . . then, seemingly shaken by underground tremors, it began to oscillate violently,—a terrific explosion was heard as of the bursting of a giant bomb,—and immediately afterward the majestic monolith toppled over and fell!—with the crash of a colossal cannonade that sent its thunderous reverberations through and through the length and breadth of the city! Hundreds of persons were killed and wounded,—many of the mounted guards and spearmen, who were striving to force a way of escape through the crowd, were struck down and crushed pell-mell with their horses as they rode,—the desperate people trampled each other to death in their frenzied efforts to reach the nearest outlet to the river embankment, . . but when once the Obelisk had actually fallen, all this turmoil was for an instant checked, and the gasping, torn, and bleeding survivors of the struggle stopped, as it were to take breath, and stared in blank dismay upon the strange ruin before them. Theos, still holding Sah-luma by the arm, with the protecting fondness of an elder brother guarding a younger, gazed also at the scene with quiet, sorrowfully wondering eyes. For it meant something to him he was sure, because it was so familiar,—yet he found it impossible to grasp the comprehension of that meaning! It was a singular spectacle enough; the lofty four-sided white pillar, that had so lately been a monumental glory of Al-Kyris, had split itself with the violence of its fall into two huge desolate-looking fragments, which now lay one on each side of the square, as though flung thither by a Titan's hand,—the great lion had been hurled from its position and overturned like a toy, while the shield it had supported between its paws had entirely disappeared in minutely scattered atoms, . . the fountains had altogether ceased playing. Now and then a thin, vaporous stream of smoke appeared to issue between the crannies of the pavement,—otherwise there was no visible sign of the mysterious force that had wrought so swift and sudden a work of destruction,—the sun shone brilliantly, and over all the havoc beamed the placid brightness of a cloudless summer sky! The most prominent object of all amid the general devastation, and the one that fascinated Theos more than the view of the destroyed monolith and the debased Lion, was the uninjured head of the Prophet Khosrul. There it lay, exactly between the sundered halves of the Obelisk, . . pale rays of light glimmered on its bloodstained silvery hair and open glazed eyes,—a solemn smile seemed graven on its waxen-pallid features. And at a little distance off, on the breast of the black-robed headless corpse that remained totally uncrushed in an open space by itself, among the surrounding heaps of slain and wounded, glistened the CROSS like a fiery gem, . . an all-significant talisman that, as he beheld it, filled Theos's heart with a feverish craving,—an inexplicable desire mingled with remorse far greater than any fear! Instinctively he drew Sah-luma away…. away! … still keeping his wistful gaze fixed on that uncomprehended, yet soul-recognized Symbol, till gradually the drooping branches of trees interrupted and shadowed the vista, and, as he moved further and further backward, closed their soft network of green foliage like the closing curtain on the strange but awfully remembered scene, shutting it out from his bewildered sight.. forever! <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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