THE HATRED OF THE QUEEN
A Story of Burma
Most wonderful is the Irawadi, the mighty river of Burma. In all theworld elsewhere is no such river, bearing the melted snows from itsmysterious sources in the high places of the mountains. The dawn risesupon its league-wide flood; the moon walks upon it with silver feet. Itis the pulsing heart of the land, living still though so many rules andrulers have risen and fallen beside it, their pomps and glories driftinglike flotsam dawn the river to the eternal ocean that is the end ofall--and the beginning. Dead civilizations strew its banks, dreaming inthe torrid sunshine of glories that were--of blood-stained gold, jewelswept from woeful crowns, nightmare dreams of murder and terror; dreamingalso of heavenly beauty, for the Lord Buddha looks down in moonlightpeace upon the land that leaped to kiss His footprints, that has laidits heart in the hand of the Blessed One, and shares therefore in Hisbliss and content. The Land of the Lord Buddha, where the myriad pagodaslift their golden flames of worship everywhere, and no idlest wind canpass but it ruffles the bells below the knees until they send forththeir silver ripple of music to swell the hymn of praise!
There is a little bay on the bank of the flooding river--a silent,deserted place of sanddunes and small bills. When a ship is in sight,some poor folk come and spread out the red lacquer that helps theirscanty subsistence, and the people from the passing ship land and barterand in a few minutes are gone on their busy way and silence settlesdown once more. They neither know nor care that, near by, a mighty cityspread its splendour for miles along the river bank, that the kingknown as Lord of the Golden Palace, The Golden Foot, Lord of the WhiteElephant, held his state there with balls of magnificence, obsequiouswomen, fawning courtiers and all the riot and colour of an Easterntyranny. How should they care? Now there are ruins--ruins, and thecobras slip in and out through the deserted holy places. They breedtheir writhing young in the sleeping-chambers of queens, the tigers mewin the moonlight, and the giant spider, more terrible than the cobra,strikes with its black poison-claw and, paralyzing the life of thevictim, sucks its brain with slow, lascivious pleasure.
Are these foul creatures more dreadful than some of the men, the women,who dwelt in these palaces--the more evil because of the human brainthat plotted and foresaw? That is known only to the mysterious Law thatin silence watches and decrees.
But this is a story of the dead days of Pagan, by the Irawadi, and itwill be shown that, as the Lotus of the Lord Buddha grows up a whitesplendour from the black mud of the depths, so also may the soul of awoman.
In the days of the Lord of the White Elephant, the King Pagan Men, was aboy named Mindon, son of second Queen and the King. So, at least, itwas said in the Golden Palace, but those who knew the secrets of suchmatters whispered that, when the King had taken her by the hand shecame to him no maid, and that the boy was the son of an Indian trader.Furthermore it was said that she herself was woman of the Rajputs,knowledgeable in spells, incantations and elemental spirits such as theBeloos that terribly haunt waste places, and all Powers that move inthe dark, and that thus she had won the King. Certainly she had beencaptured by the King's war-boats off the coast from a trading-ship boundfor Ceylon, and it was her story that, because of her beauty, she wassent thither to serve as concubine to the King, Tissa of Ceylon. Beingcaptured, she was brought to the Lord of the Golden Palace. The tongueshe spoke was strange to all the fighting men, but it was wondrous tosee how swiftly she learnt theirs and spoke it with a sweet ripple suchas is in the throat of a bird.
She was beautiful exceedingly, with a colour of pale gold upon her andlengths of silk-spun hair, and eyes like those of a jungle-deer, andwater might run beneath the arch of her foot without wetting it, and herbreasts were like the cloudy pillows where the sun couches at setting.Now, at Pagan, the name they called her was Dwaymenau, but her truename, known only to herself, was Sundari, and she knew not the Law ofthe Blessed Buddha but was a heathen accursed. In the strong hollow ofher hand she held the heart of the King, so that on the birth of her sonshe had risen from a mere concubine to be the second Queen and a powerto whom all bowed. The First Queen, Maya, languished in her palace, herpale beauty wasting daily, deserted and lonely, for she had been thelight of the King's eyes until the coming of the Indian woman, and sheloved her lord with a great love and was a noble woman brought up inhonour and all things becoming a queen. But sigh as she would, the Kingcame never. All night he lay in the arms of Dwaymenau, all day he satbeside her, whether at the great water pageants or at the festival whenthe dancing-girls swayed and postured before him in her gilded chambers.Even when he went forth to hunt the tiger, she went with him as far asa woman may go, and then stood back only because he would not risk hisjewel, her life. So all that was evil in the man she fostered and allthat was good she cherished not at all, fearing lest he should returnto the Queen. At her will he had consulted the Hiwot Daw, the Council ofthe Woon-gyees or Ministers, concerning a divorce of the Queen, butthis they told him could not be since she had kept all the laws of Manu,being faithful, noble and beautiful and having borne him a son.
For, before the Indian woman had come to the King, the Queen had bornea son, Ananda, and he was pale and slender and the King despised himbecause of the wiles of Dwaymenau, saying he was fit only to sit amongthe women, having the soul of a slave, and he laughed bitterly as thepale child crouched in the corner to see him pass. If his eyes had beenclear, he would have known that here was no slave, but a heart as muchgreater than his own as the spirit is stronger than the body. But thishe did not know and he strode past with Dwaymenau's boy on his shoulder,laughing with cruel glee.
And this boy, Mindon, was beautiful and strong as his mother, pale oliveof face, with the dark and crafty eyes of the cunning Indian traders,with black hair and a body straight, strong and long in the leg for hisyears--apt at the beginnings of bow, sword and spear--full of promise,if the promise was only words and looks.
And so matters rested in the palace until Ananda had ten years andMindon nine.
It was the warm and sunny winter and the days were pleasant, and on acertain day the Queen, Maya, went with her ladies to worship the BlessedOne at the Thapinyu Temple, looking down upon the swiftly flowing river.The temple was exceedingly rich and magnificent, so gilded with puregold-leaf that it appeared of solid gold. And about the upper part weregolden bells beneath the jewelled knee, which wafted very sweetly inthe wind and gave forth a crystal-clear music. The ladies bore in theirhands more gold-leaf, that they might acquire merit by offering thisfor the service of the Master of the Law, and indeed this temple wasthe offering of the Queen herself, who, because she bore the name ofthe Mother of the Lord, excelled in good works and was the Moon of thislower world in charity and piety.
Though wan with grief and anxiety, this Queen was beautiful. Her eyes,like mournful lakes of darkness, were lovely in the pale ivory ofher face. Her lips were nobly cut and calm, and by the favour of theGuardian Nats, she was shaped with grace and health, a worthy mother ofkings. Also she wore her jewels like a mighty princess, a magnificenceto which all the people shikoed as she passed, folding their hands andtouching the forehead while they bowed down, kneeling.
Before the colossal image of the Holy One she made her offering and,attended by her women, she sat in meditation, drawing consolation fromthe Tranquillity above her and the silence of the shrine. This ended,the Queen rose and did obeisance to the Lord and, retiring, paced backbeneath the White Canopy and entered the courtyard where the palacestood--a palace of noble teakwood, brown and golden and carved like laceinto strange fantasies of spires and pinnacles and branches where Natsand Tree Spirits and Beloos and swaying river maidens mingled and metamid fruits and leaves and flowers in a wild and joyous confusion. Thefaces, the blowing garments, whirled into points with the swiftness ofthe dance, were touched with gold, and so glad was the building that itseemed as if a very light wind might whirl it to the sky, and eventhe sad Queen stopped to rejoice in its beauty as it blossomed in thesunlight.
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br /> And even as she paused, her little son Ananda rushed to meet her, paleand panting, and flung himself into her arms with dry sobs like those ofan overrun man. She soothed him until he could speak, and then the griefmade way in a rain of tears.
"Mindon has killed my deer. He bared his knife, slit his throat and casthim in the ditch and there he lies."
"There will he not lie long!" shouted Mindon, breaking from the palaceto the group where all were silent now. "For the worms will eat him andthe dogs pick clean his bones, and he will show his horns at his lordsno more. If you loved him, White-liver, you should have taught himbetter manners to his betters."
With a stifled shriek Ananda caught the slender knife from his girdleand flew at Mindon like a cat of the woods. Such things were done dailyby young and old, and this was a long sorrow come to a head between theboys.
Suddenly, lifting the hangings of the palace gateway, before them stoodthe mother of Mindon, the Lady Dwaymenau, pale as wool, having heard theshout of her boy, so that the two Queens faced each other, each holdingthe shoulders of her son, and the ladies watched, mute as fishes, for itwas years since these two had met.
"What have you done to my son?" breathed Maya the Queen, dry in thethroat and all but speechless with passion. For indeed his face, for achild, was ghastly.
"Look at his knife! What would he do to my son?" Dwaymenau was stiffwith hate and spoke as to a slave.
"He has killed my deer and mocks me because I loved him, He is the devilin this place. Look at the devils in his eyes. Look quick before hesmiles, my mother."
And indeed, young as the boy was, an evil thing sat in either eye andglittered upon them. Dwaymenau passed her hand across his brow, and hesmiled and they were gone.
"The beast ran at me and would have flung me with his horns," he said,looking up brightly at his mother. "He had the madness upon him. Istruck once and he was dead. My father would have done the same.
"That would he not!" said Queen Maya bitterly. "Your father would havecrept up, fawning on the deer, and offered him the fruits he loved,stroking him the while. And in trust the beast would have eaten, and thepoison in the fruit would have slain him. For the people of your fathermeet neither man nor beast in fair fight. With a kiss they stab!"
Horror kept the women staring and silent. No one had dreamed thatthe scandal had reached the Queen. Never had she spoken or looked herknowledge but endured all in patience. Now it sprang out like a swordamong them, and they feared for Maya, whom all loved.
Mindon did not understand. It was beyond him, but he saw he was scorned.Dwaymenau, her face rigid as a mask, looked pitilessly at the shakingQueen, and each word dropped from her mouth, hard and cold as thefalling of diamonds. She refused the insult.
"If it is thus you speak of our lord and my love, what wonder heforsakes you? Mother of a craven milk runs in your veins and his forblood. Take your slinking brat away and weep together! My son and Igo forth to meet the King as he comes from hunting, and to welcome himkingly!" She caught her boy to her with a magnificent gesture; he flunghis little arm about her, and laughing loudly they went off together.
The tension relaxed a little when they were out of sight. The women knewthat, since Dwaymenau had refused to take the Queen's meaning, shewould certainly not carry her complaint to the King. They guessed at herreason for this forbearance, but, be that as it might, it was Certainthat no other person would dare to tell him and risk the fate that waitsthe messenger of evil.
The eldest lady led away the Queen, now almost tottering in the reactionof fear and pain. Oh, that she had controlled her speech! Not for herown sake--for she had lost all and the beggar can lose no more--but forthe boy's sake, the unloved child that stood between the stranger andher hopes. For him she had made a terrible enemy. Weeping, the boyfollowed her.
"Take comfort, little son," she said, drawing him to her tenderly. "Thedeer can suffer no more. For the tigers, he does not fear them. He runsin green woods now where there is none to hunt. He is up and away. TheBlessed One was once a deer as gentle as yours."
But still the child wept, and the Queen broke down utterly. "Oh, if lifebe a dream, let us wake, let us wake!" she sobbed. "For evil things walkin it that cannot live in the light. Or let us dream deeper and forget.Go, little son, yet stay--for who can tell what waits us when the Kingcomes. Let us meet him here."
For she believed that Dwaymenau would certainly carry the tale of herspeech to the King, and, if so, what hope but death together?
That night, after the feasting, when the girls were dancing the danceof the fairies and spirits, in gold dresses, winged on the legs andshoulders, and high, gold-spired and pinnacled caps, the King missed thelittle Prince, Ananda, and asked why he was absent.
No one answered, the women looking upon each other, until Dwaymenau,sitting beside him, glimmering with rough pearls and rubies, spokesmoothly: "Lord, worshipped and beloved, the two boys quarreled thisday, and Ananda's deer attacked our Mindon. He had a madness upon himand thrust with his horns. But, Mindon, your true son, flew in upon himand in a great fight he slit the beast's throat with the knife you gavehim. Did he not well?"
"Well," said the King briefly. "But is there no hurt? Have searched? Forhe is mine."
There was arrogance in the last sentence and her proud soul rebelled,but smoothly as ever she spoke: "I have searched and there is not thelittlest scratch. But Ananda is weeping because the deer is dead, andhis mother is angry. What should I do?"
"Nothing. Ananda is worthless and worthless let him be! And for thatpale shadow that was once a woman, let her be forgotten. And now, drink,my Queen!"
And Dwaymenau drank but the drink was bitter to her, for a ghost hadrisen upon her that day. She had never dreamed that such a scandal hadbeen spoken, and it stunned her very soul with fear, that the Queenshould know her vileness and the cheat she had put upon the King. Aspure maid he had received her, and she knew, none better, what the doomwould be if his trust were broken and he knew the child not his.She herself had seen this thing done to a concubine who had a littleoffended. She was thrust living in a sack and this hung between twoearthen jars pierced with small holes, and thus she was set afloat onthe terrible river. And not till the slow filling and sinking of thejars was the agony over and the cries for mercy stilled. No, the Queen'sspeech was safe with her, but was it safe with the Queen? For hersilence, Dwaymenau must take measures.
Then she put it all aside and laughed and jested with the King and didindeed for a time forget, for she loved him for his black-browed beautyand his courage and royalty and the childlike trust and the man'spassion that mingled in him for her. Daily and nightly such prayers asshe made to strange gods were that she might bear a son, true son ofhis.
Next day, in the noonday stillness when all slept, she led her young sonby the hand to her secret chamber, and, holding him upon her knees inthat rich and golden place, she lifted his face to hers and stared intohis eyes. And so unwavering was her gaze, so mighty the hard, unblinkingstare that his own was held against it, and he stared back as the earthstares breathless at the moon. Gradually the terror faded out of hiseyes; they glazed as if in a trance; his head fell stupidly against herbosom; his spirit stood on the borderland of being and waited.
Seeing this, she took his palm and, molding it like wax, into the cupof it she dropped clear fluid from a small vessel of pottery with thefylfot upon its side and the disks of the god Shiva. And strange it wasto see that lore of India in the palace where the Blessed Law reignedin peace. Then, fixing her eyes with power upon Mindon, she bade him, apure child, see for her in its clearness.
"Only virgin-pure can see!" she muttered, staring into his eyes. "See!See!"
The eyes of Mindon were closing. He half opened them and looked dully athis palm. His face was pinched and yellow.
"A woman--a child, on a long couch. Dead! I see!"
"See her face. Is her head crowned with the Queen's jewels? See!"
"Jewels. I cannot see her face. It is hidden."
"Why is it hidden?"
"A robe across her face. Oh, let me go!"
"And the child? See!"
"Let me go. Stop--my head--my head! I cannot see. The child is hidden.Her arm holds it. A woman stoops above them."
"A woman? Who? Is it like me? Speak! See!"
"A woman. It is like you, mother--it is like you. I fear very greatly. Aknife--a knife! Blood! I cannot see--I cannot speak! I--I sleep."
His face was ghastly white now, his body cold and collapsed. Terrified,she caught him to her breast and relaxed the power of her will upon him.For that moment, she was only the passionate mother and quaked to thinkshe might have hurt him. An hour passed and he slept heavily in herarms, and in agony she watched to see the colour steal back into theolive cheek and white lips. In the second hour he waked and stretchedhimself indolently, yawning like a cat. Her tears dropped like rain uponhim as she clasped him violently to her.
He writhed himself free, petulant and spoilt. "Let me be. I hate kissesand women's tricks. I want to go forth and play. I have had a devil'sdream.
"What did you see in your dream, prince of my heart?" She caughtfrantically at the last chance.
"A deer--a tiger. I have forgotten. Let me go." He ran off and she satalone with her doubts and fears. Yet triumph coloured them too. She sawa dead woman, a dead child, and herself bending above them. She hid thevessel in her bosom and went out among her women.
Weeks passed, and never a word that she dreaded from Maya the Queen. Thewomen of Dwaymenau, questioning the Queen's women, heard that she seemedto have heavy sorrow upon her. Her eyes were like dying lamps and shefaded as they. The King never entered her palace. Drowned in Dwaymenau'swiles and beauty, her slave, her thrall, he forgot all else but hisfighting, his hunting and his long war-boats, and whether the Queenlived or died, he cared nothing. Better indeed she should die andher place be emptied for the beloved, without offence to her powerfulkindred.
And now he was to sail upon a raid against the Shan Tsaubwa, who haddenied him tribute of gold and jewels and slaves. Glorious were theboats prepared for war, of brown teak and gilded until they shone likegold. Seventy men rowed them, sword and lance beside each. Warriorscrowded them, flags and banners fluttered about them; the shining waterreflected the pomp like a mirror and the air rang with song. Dwaymenaustood beside the water with her women, bidding the King farewell, and sohe saw her, radiant in the dawn, with her boy beside her, and waved hishand to the last.
The ships were gone and the days languished a little at Pagan. Theymissed the laughter and royalty of the King, and few men, and those oldand weak, were left in the city. The pulse of life beat slower.
And Dwaymenau took rule in the Golden Palace. Queen Maya sat like one ina dream and questioned nothing, and Dwaymenau ruled with wisdom but noneloved her. To all she was the interloper, the witch-woman, the out-landupstart. Only the fear of the King guarded her and her boy, but thatwas strong. The boys played together sometimes, Mindon tyrannizing andcruel, Ananda fearing and complying, broken in spirit.
Maya the Queen walked daily in the long and empty Golden Hall ofAudience, where none came now that the King was gone, pacing up anddown, gazing wearily at the carved screens and all their woodland beautyof gods that did not hear, of happy spirits that had no pity. Likea spirit herself she passed between the red pillars, appearing andreappearing with steps that made no sound, consumed with hate of theevil woman that had stolen her joy. Like a slow fire it burned in hersoul, and the face of the Blessed One was hidden from her, and she hadforgotten His peace. In that atmosphere of hate her life dwindled. Herson's dwindled also, and there was talk among the women of some potionthat Dwaymenau had been seen to drop into his noontide drink as she wentswiftly by. That might he the gossip of malice, but he pined. Hiseyes were large like a young bird's; his hands like little claws. Theythought the departing year would take him with it. What harm? Verycertainly the King would shed no tear.
It was a sweet and silent afternoon and she wandered in the great andlonely hall, sickened with the hate in her soul and her fear for herboy. Suddenly she heard flying footsteps--a boy's, running in mad hastein the outer hall, and, following them, bare feet, soft, thudding.
She stopped dead and every pulse cried--Danger! No time to think orbreathe when Mindon burst into sight, wild with terror and followingclose beside him a man--a madman, a short bright dah in his grasp, hisjaws grinding foam, his wild eyes starting--one passion to murder. Sosometimes from the Nats comes pitiless fury, and men run mad and killand none knows why.
Maya the Queen stiffened to meet the danger. Joy swept through her soul;her weariness was gone. A fierce smile showed her teeth--a smileof hate, as she stood there and drew her dagger for defense. Fordefense--the man would rend the boy and turn on her and she would notdie. She would live to triumph that the mongrel was dead, and her son,the Prince again and his father's joy--for his heart would turn to thechild most surely. Justice was rushing on its victim. She would see itand live content, the long years of agony wiped out in blood, as wasfitting. She would not flee; she would see it and rejoice. And asshe stood in gladness--these broken thoughts rushing through her likeflashes of lightning--Mindon saw her by the pillar and, screaming inanguish for the first time, fled to her for refuge.
She raised her knife to meet the staring eyes, the chalk white face, anddrive him back on the murderer. If the man failed, she would not! Andeven as she did this a strange thing befell. Something stronger thanhate swept her away like a leaf on the river; something primeval thatlives in the lonely pangs of childbirth, that hides in the womb andbreasts of the mother. It was stronger than she. It was not the hatedMindoin--she saw him no more. Suddenly it was the eternal Child, liftingdying, appealing eyes to the Woman, as he clung to her knees. She didnot think this--she felt it, and it dominated her utterly. The Womananswered. As if it had been her own flesh and blood, she swept thepanting body behind her and faced the man with uplifted dagger and knewher victory assured, whether in life or death. On came the horriblerush, the flaming eyes, and, if it was chance that set the daggeragainst his throat, it was cool strength that drove it home and neverwavered until the blood welling from the throat quenched the flame inthe wild eyes, and she stood triumphing like a war-goddess, with theman at her feet. Then, strong and flushed, Maya the Queen gathered thehalf-dead boy in her arms, and, both drenched with blood, they movedslowly down the hall and outside met the hurrying crowd, with Dwaymenau,whom the scream had brought to find her son.
"You have killed him! She has killed him!" Scarcely could the Rajputwoman speak. She was kneeling beside him--he hideous with blood. "Shehated him always. She has murdered him. Seize her!"
"Woman, what matter your hates and mine?" the Queen said slowly. "Theboy is stark with fear. Carry him in and send for old Meh Shway Gon.Woman, be silent!"
When a Queen commands, men and women obey, and a Queen commanded then.A huddled group lifted the child and carried him away, Dwaymenau withthem, still uttering wild threats, and the Queen was left alone.
She could not realize what she had done and left undone. She could notunderstand it. She had hated, sickened with loathing, as it seemed forages, and now, in a moment it had blown away like a whirlwind that isgone. Hate was washed out of her soul and had left it cool and white asthe Lotus of the Blessed One. What power had Dwaymenau to hurt her whenthat other Power walked beside her? She seemed to float above her inhigh air and look down upon her with compassion. Strength, virtue flowedin her veins; weakness, fear were fantasies. She could not understand,but knew that here was perfect enlightenment. About her echoed the wordsof the Blessed One: "Never in this world doth hatred cease by hatred,but only by love. This is an old rule."
"Whereas I was blind, now I see," said Maya the Queen slowly to her ownheart. She had grasped the hems of the Mighty.
Words cannot speak the still passion of strength and joy that possessedher. Her step was light. As she walked, her soul sang within her, forthus it is with those that hav
e received the Law. About them is thePeace.
In the dawn she was told that the Queen, Dwaymenau, would speak withher, and without a tremor she who had shaken like a leaf at that namecommanded that she should enter. It was Dwaymenau that trembled as shecame into that unknown place.
With cloudy brows and eyes that would reveal no secret, she stood beforethe high seat where the Queen sat pale and majestic.
"Is it well with the boy?" the Queen asked earnestly.
"Well," said Dwaymenau, fingering the silver bosses of her girdle.
"Then--is there more to say?" The tone was that of the great lady whocourteously ends an audience. "There is more. The men brought in thebody and in its throat your dagger was sticking. And my son has told methat your body was a shield to him. You offered your life for his. I didnot think to thank you--but I thank you." She ended abruptly and stillher eyes had never met the Queen's.
"I accept your thanks. Yet a mother could do no less."
The tone was one of dismissal but still Dwaymenau lingered.
"The dagger," she said and drew it from her bosom. On the clear, pointedblade the blood had curdled and dried. "I never thought to ask a gift ofyou, but this dagger is a memorial of my son's danger. May I keep it?"
"As you will. Here is the sheath." From her girdle she drew it--roughsilver, encrusted with rubies from the mountains.
The hand rejected it.
"Jewels I cannot take, but bare steel is a fitting gift between us two."
"As you will."
The Queen spoke compassionately, and Dwaymenau, still with veiled eyes,was gone without fare well. The empty sheath lay on the seat--a symbolof the sharp-edged hate that had passed out of her life. She touched thesheath to her lips and, smiling, laid it away.
And the days went by and Dwaymenau came no more before her, and her dayswere fulfilled with peace. And now again the Queen ruled in the palacewisely and like a Queen, and this Dwaymenau did not dispute, but whather thoughts were no man could tell.
Then came the end.
One night the city awakened to a wild alarm. A terrible fleet ofwar-boats came sweeping along the river thick as locusts--the war fleetof the Lord of Prome. Battle shouts broke the peace of the nightto horror; axes battered on the outer doors; the roofs of the outerbuildings were all aflame. It was no wonderful incident, but a commonone enough of those turbulent days--reprisal by a powerful ruler withraids and hates to avenge on the Lord of the Golden Palace. It wasindeed a right to be gainsaid only by the strong arm, and the strong armwas absent; as for the men of Pagan, if the guard failed and the women'scourage sank, they would return to blackened walls, empty chambers anddesolation.
At Pagan the guard was small, indeed, for the King's greed of plunderhad taken almost every able man with him. Still, those who were leftdid what they could, and the women, alert and brave, with but fewexceptions, gathered the children and handed such weapons as they couldmuster to the men, and themselves, taking knives and daggers, helped todefend the inner rooms.
In the farthest, the Queen, having given her commands and encouraged allwith brave words, like a wise, prudent princess, sat with her son besideher. Her duty was now to him. Loved or unloved, he was still the heir,the root of the House tree. If all failed, she must make ransomand terms for him, and, if they died, it must be together. He, withsparkling eyes, gay in the danger, stood by her. Thus Dwaymenau foundthem.
She entered quietly and without any display of emotion and stood beforethe high seat.
"Great Queen"--she used that title for the first time--"the leader isMeng Kyinyo of Prome. There is no mercy. The end is near. Our men fallfast, the women are fleeing. I have come to say this thing: Save thePrince."
"And how?" asked the Queen, still seated. "I have no power."
"I have sent to Maung Tin, abbot of the Golden Monastery, and he hassaid this thing. In the Kyoung across the river he can hide one childamong the novices. Cut his hair swiftly and put upon him this yellowrobe. The time is measured in minutes."
Then the Queen perceived, standing by the pillar, a monk of a stern,dark presence, the creature of Dwaymenau. For an instant she pondered.Was the woman selling the child to death? Dwaymenau spoke no word.Her face was a mask. A minute that seemed an hour drifted by, and theyelling and shrieks for mercy drew nearer.
"There will be pursuit," said the Queen. "They will slay him on theriver. Better here with me."
"There will be no pursuit." Dwaymenau fixed her strange eyes on theQueen for the first time.
What moved in those eyes? The Queen could not tell. But despairing,she rose and went to the silent monk, leading the Prince by the hand.Swiftly he stripped the child of the silk pasoh of royalty, swiftlyhe cut the long black tresses knotted on the little head, and upon theslender golden body he set the yellow robe worn by the Lord Himself onearth, and in the small hand he placed the begging-bowl of the Lord.And now, remote and holy, in the dress that is of all most sacred, thePrince, standing by the monk, turned to his mother and looked with graveeyes upon her, as the child Buddha looked upon his Mother--also a Queen.But Dwaymenau stood by silent and lent no help as the Queen folded thePrince in her arms and laid his hand in the hand of the monk and sawthem pass away among the pillars, she standing still and white.
She turned to her rival. "If you have meant truly, I thank you."
"I have meant truly."
She turned to go, but the Queen caught her by the hand.
"Why have you done this?" she asked, looking into the strange eyes ofthe strange woman.
Something like tears gathered in them for a moment, but she brushed themaway as she said hurriedly:
"I was grateful. You saved my son. Is it not enough?"
"No, not enough!" cried the Queen. "There is more. Tell me, for death isupon us."
"His footsteps are near," said the Indian. "I will speak. I love mylord. In death I will not cheat him. What you have known is true. Mychild is no child of his. I will not go down to death with a lie upon mylips. Come and see."
Dwaymenau was no more. Sundari, the Indian woman, awful and calm, ledthe Queen down the long ball and into her own chamber, where Mindon, thechild, slept a drugged sleep. The Queen felt that she had never knownher; she herself seemed diminished in stature as she followed thestately figure, with its still, dark face. Into this room the enemy werebreaking, shouldering their way at the door--a rabble of terrible faces.Their fury was partly checked when only a sleeping child and two womenconfronted them, but their leader, a grim and evil-looking man, strodefrom the huddle.
"Where is the son of the King?" he shouted. "Speak, women! Whose is thisboy?"
Sundari laid her hand upon her son's shoulder. Not a muscle of her faceflickered.
"This is his son."
"His true son--the son of Maya the Queen?"
"His true son, the son of Maya the Queen."
"Not the younger--the mongrel?"
"The younger--the mongrel died last week of a fever."
Every moment of delay was precious. Her eyes saw only a monk and a boyfleeing across the wide river.
"Which is Maya the Queen?"
"This," said Sundari. "She cannot speak. It is her son--the Prince."
Maya had veiled her face with her hands. Her brain swam, but sheunderstood the noble lie. This woman could love. Their lord would not beleft childless. Thought beat like pulses in her--raced along her veins.She held her breath and was dumb.
His doubt was assuaged and the lust of vengeance was on him--a madnessseized the man. But even his own wild men shrank back a moment, for toslay a sleeping child in cold blood is no man's work.
"You swear it is the Prince. But why? Why do you not lie to save him ifyou are the King's woman?"
"Because his mother has trampled me to the earth. I am the Indianwoman--the mother of the younger, who is dead and safe. She jeered atme--she mocked me. It is time I should see her suffer. Suffer now as Ihave suffered, Maya the Queen!"
This was reasonable--this was like the w
omen he had known. His doubt wasgone--he laughed aloud.
"Then feed full of vengeance!" he cried, and drove his knife through thechild's heart.
For a moment Sundari wavered where she stood, but she held herself andwas rigid as the dead.
"Tha-du! Well done!" she said with an awful smile. "The tree is broken,the roots cut. And now for us women--our fate, O master?"
"Wait here," he answered. "Let not a hair of their heads be touched.Both are fair. The two for me. For the rest draw lots when all is done."
The uproar surged away. The two stood by the dead boy. So swift had beenhis death that he lay as though he still slept--the black lashes pressedupon his cheek.
With the heredity of their different races upon them, neither wept. Butsilently the Queen opened her arms; wide as a woman that entreatsshe opened them to the Indian Queen, and speechlessly the two clungtogether. For a while neither spoke.
"My sister!" said Maya the Queen. And again, "O great of heart!"
She laid her cheek against Sundari's, and a wave of solemn joy seemed tobreak in her soul and flood it with life and light.
"Had I known sooner!" she said. "For now the night draws on."
"What is time?" answered the Rajput woman. "We stand before the Lords ofLife and Death. The life you gave was yours, and I am unworthy to kissthe feet of the Queen. Our lord will return and his son is saved. TheHouse can be rebuilt. My son and I were waifs washed up from the sea.Another wave washes us back to nothingness. Tell him my story and hewill loathe me."
"My lips are shut," said the Queen. "Should I betray my sister's honour?When he speaks of the noble women of old, your name will be among them.What matters which of us he loves and remembers? Your soul and mine haveseen the same thing, and we are one. But I--what have I to do with life?The ship and the bed of the conqueror await us. Should we await them, mysister?"
The bright tears glittered in the eyes of Sundari at the tender name andthe love in the face of the Queen. At last she accepted it.
"My sister, no," she said, and drew from her bosom the dagger of Maya,with the man's blood rusted upon it. "Here is the way. I have kept thisdagger in token of my debt. Nightly have I kissed it, swearing that,when the time came, I would repay my debt to the great Queen. Shall I gofirst or follow, my sister?"
Her voice lingered on the word. It was precious to her. It was likeclear water, laying away the stain of the shameful years.
"Your arm is strong," answered the Queen. "I go first. Because theKing's son is safe, I bless you. For your love of the King, I love you.And here, standing on the verge of life, I testify that the words of theBlessed One are truth--that love is All; that hatred is Nothing."
She bared the breast that this woman had made desolate--that, with thelove of this woman, was desolate ho longer, and, stooping, laid her handon the brow of Mindon. Once more they embraced, and then, strong andtrue, and with the Rajput passion behind the blow, the stroke fell andSundari had given her sister the crowning mercy of deliverance. Shelaid the body beside her own son, composing the stately limbs, the quieteyelids, the black lengths of hair into majesty. So, she thought, in thegreat temple of the Rajput race, the Mother Goddess shed silence and aweupon her worshippers. The two lay like mother and son--one slight handof the Queen she laid across the little body as if to guard it.
Her work done, she turned to the entrance and watched the dawn comingglorious over the river. The men shouted and quarreled in the distance,but she heeded them no more than the chattering of apes. Her heart wasaway over the distance to the King, but with no passion now: so might amother have thought of her son. He was sleeping, forgetful of even herin his dreams. What matter? She was glad at heart. The Queen was dearerto her than the King--so strange is life; so healing is death. Sheremembered without surprise that she had asked no forgiveness of theQueen for all the cruel wrongs, for the deadly intent--had made noconfession. Again what matter? What is forgiveness when love is all?
She turned from the dawn-light to the light in the face of the Queen.It was well. Led by such a hand, she could present herself without fearbefore the Lords of Life and Death--she and the child. She smiled. Lifeis good, but death, which is more life, is better. The son of the Kingwas safe, but her own son safer.
When the conqueror reentered the chamber, he found the dead Queenguarding the dead child, and across her feet, as not worthy to liebeside her, was the body of the Indian woman, most beautiful in death.
The ninth vibration and other stories Page 4