V
TO THE GATE OF GOD
Five days later the camels of a shortened caravan passed out of theHittite city and turned their faces towards the southeast. It was earlymorning. Before them the sky was radiant with promise of the coming ofthe lord of day. Behind them, Damascus slept. Far to the right, a mereolive-colored shadow on the horizon, was the line of verdure that markedthe course of the river Jordan, the eastern boundary of Phoenicia.Ahead, and on every side for endless miles, in infinite, sparkling,yellow waves, stretched the desert, a vast, silent plain of death,dreaded by man and beast; a foe that Assyrian armies had foundmore terrible than all the strength of Egypt; that Babylon in hermighty decadence knew to be a safer guard against plunderinghoards than all her towering walls; that the wandering Hittites,Damascenes born of the burning sand, themselves would not ventureupon at this season of the growing year. And into this, light-hearted,went Charmides the Greek, for the final proof of his steadfastness, the final trial of his strength, for which the reward was to bea sight of the great goddess--Ish-tar--ka--Bab-i-lu.
Now, indeed, at this early hour, when night's sweetness had not yet beendispelled, Charmides, bareheaded, sat smiling at the sunrise, at thenovelty of the sand-plain, at the steady, awkward trot of his camel, atthe solemnity of the turbaned Babylonians before and behind him, and atHodo's crooked little figure at the head of the line. There were twentycamels, well packed with articles of Tyrian and Damascene manufacture,and a man to add to each load. On the back of every animal, where thesight of it would not continually tantalize the desert traveller, hung awater-skin, still dripping from contact with the well, but not to bereplenished for five weary days. Before their departure, Hodo hadexplained to the Greek the best hours for, and the most satisfyingmethods of, drinking; for these things had been reduced to a minutesystem by traders, in seasons when wells might go dry and water was inany case scarce. In consequence of his instructions, and thedetermination to obey them rigidly, Charmides found himself from thevery first in a state of thirst. In the freshness of the morning thiswas not difficult to bear; but by noon, when the whole sky blazed likemolten gold and the desert was a plain of fire, the desire for drinkincreased till it became a torture before which he weakened and fell. Hetook more than a cupful of water from his skin before the tents werepitched for the mid-day rest, and he felt himself an object of censurefor the entire caravan; though, in truth, there was no trader of themall but had done the same thing many times, before long training hadhardened him to endurance.
This caravan was the last to cross the desert that year; and the heatbore with it one compensation. The strong guard of soldiers, orfighting-men, that generally accompanied a caravan to guard it fromplunder by the wild desert tribes, had been dispensed with. Theforefathers of the modern Bedawin were not hardier than theirdescendants, and they made no dwelling-place in the Syrian desert atthis season. It was, indeed, dangerously late for the passage; and eachsucceeding day brought a fiercer sun and shorter hours of darkness. Therest at noon was long, but there was no halt at all by night. Oaseswells were low, and there must be no lagging by the way. Hodo held dailycouncil in his tent with the three eldest traders, to make sure of thebest course to keep, and to save the few miles possible to save. At oneof these conferences, some days out, the man that rode behind Charmides,Ralchaz by name, spoke to Hodo of the young Greek, suggesting thatCharmides was bearing the journey hardly, and would need care if he wereto cross the desert alive. Hodo, a little conscience-smitten with theknowledge of neglect, hastened off to the tent occupied by Charmides andtwo of the younger men. Here he found that it was, indeed, high time toattend to the rhapsode's condition.
Charmides was lying, face down, on the rug that covered the sand in thetent. Motionless, his body rigid, his hands clasped in front of him,making no sound, breathing inaudibly, he lay; while at a little distancehis two companions, Babylonians, squatted together over their meal oflocust-beans, bread, and dates, now and then regarding the youth with akind of wistful helplessness.
Hodo, scarcely looking at the other two, ran to Charmides' side, kneltby him, and, placing a hand on his shoulder, cried out:
"Charmides! Charmides! Speak! What demon of sickness has got you?"
He spoke in Chaldaic, using the idiom that a Greek would not understand.The entreaty, however, had its effect. Charmides made an effort, rolledupon his back, and looked up at the master of the caravan. Hodo gave aquick exclamation of dismay and cried out:
"Tirutu! Bring me some water!"
One of the men sprang to his feet. "Gladly! Yet he will not drink."
"Not drink! Allat help us! Why?"
"He has emptied his own skin and will not accept of water from ours."
Hodo nodded his understanding. "Go, then, to my tent, and bring one ofthe skins of extra water, together with a jar of the wine of Helbon--andsee that you move like Raman!"
Charmides understood not a word of this conversation, but he surmisedits trend, and essayed to say something in Phoenician. Coherent speaking,however, had become impossible; for his tongue was swollen out of allshape, and his mouth was on fire with fever. Hodo laid a gentle handupon his forehead, smoothed the hair back from it, noted the inflamedand pitiable condition of the wide, blue eyes, the brilliant fever-flushthat burned upon the fair cheeks, and his face grew graver still.
"The journey will go hard with him," he muttered.
Tirutu presently returned with the damp pigskin on his shoulder, and asmall, glazed stone flask in his right hand. Ustanni, the second ofCharmides' fellow-tentsmen, was already at Hodo's side with a bronzecup. This they filled with a mixture of water and wine, and then Hodo,lifting the Greek's head upon his arm, held the drink to his lips.Charmides' nostrils quivered like an animal's. The tears started to hiseyes, and there was a convulsive working of the saliva glands in hismouth. For one agonized moment he resisted the temptation; and then,with the abandon of a creature half crazed, he drank at a gulp all thatthe cup contained, and begged guiltily, with his fevered eyes, for more.Hodo let him take all that he wanted. Then food--bread, dates, andcooked sesame--was fed him. Next his eyes, rendered almost useless bythe desert glare, were rubbed with a balm brought from Hodo's tent,which reduced their fever and inflammation in a miraculous way. Twohours later, at the forming of the caravan, Charmides' camel was led outand fastened next to Hodo's at the head of the line; and when the Greek,walking more easily than for three days past, came to mount, he found afull water-skin strapped upon the animal's back, and two little jars ofHodo's rare wine balancing each other on either side of its neck.Venturing to remonstrate feebly at this lavish generosity, the rhapsodewas silenced by a flood of angry eloquence from Hodo, who finished histirade by saying:
"Drink as often as yours is the desire, for I tell you this truly:Shamash is pitiless to those who pray not to Mermer; and, in drinking ofhis gift, you will do honor to the god of Rains. I will not leave youbehind me in the desert, Charmides; and yet I cannot carry your deadbody on to Babylon. Therefore you will do well to live. For I think thatthe Lady Istar will be displeased if, when you are so near, you deserther for the Queen of Death. So, Charmides, again I bid you drink; shutyour eyes to the sun; eat and sleep as you can. See that you heed thesewords." And with a little chuckle at his own advice, Hodo mounted hisbeast, and, after the usual tumultuous rising, with many shouts and muchwielding of his hide-whip, set the caravan once more in motion.
For forty-eight hours more Charmides, making a strong effort, stubbornlyrefusing to admit that he was still sick, made an appearance of recoveryfrom his indisposition. He talked with Hodo, asking welcome questionsabout trade, life, and home. He spoke to those members of the caravanfrom whom hitherto he had held aloof. And he made a desperate effort tolearn from the leader a few phrases in the Babylonish tongue. This last,however, proved a Herculean task. The Greek race was notoriously theleast apt of any nation at learning foreign tongues. Phoenician had beendifficult enough; but when it came to the harsh, thick accents, the manysyllabl
es, and the curious construction of this other language, thelanguage of the people of Istar, Charmides found it an apparentlyhopeless task, from which, in his present condition, he shrankmiserably.
The desert days crept on. The hours from red dawn to redder twilightwere filled with fainting prayers for night and darkness. And when nightcame, and with it the golden moon, it seemed that the heat scarcelylessened; for up from the yellow sands rose a burning stream ofday-gathered fire that made the very camels wince, and called forth manya smothered curse and groan from the long-seasoned men. Yet these nightswere wonderful things. The high moon overshadowed all her lesser lights,so that the sky around was strung with few stars; but these glitteredwith dazzling radiance against their luminous background. And when thedread dawn approached, and the moon grew great on the western horizon,balanced by the long, palpitating lines of light in the east, the sight,to any but desert travellers, was a thing to pray to. Charmides, indeed,in spite of his condition, did marvel at the miracles of the sky. Buthis lyre was heavy in his hands, his voice too cracked for song, and hecould but sit, drooping, on his camel, head throbbing, body on fire,drinking in the golden fire, and wondering vaguely if he should everfind the Babylon that he sought, or whether Apollo had destined him fora different and a higher place.
Another besides the Greek had begun to speculate on the same subject.Hodo, with his Babylonish idea of the dreary after-life, watched hischarge with an anxiety and a grief that betrayed a surprising affectionfor the youth. Though Charmides suffered no longer from thirst, thoughHodo's own food was prepared for him, though the best camel in thecaravan was at his disposal, he grew weaker and yet more weak, and hisfever increased till the desert sands themselves were no hotter than hisskin. On the eighteenth day of the journey Charmides was lifted from hisanimal at the noon halt, talking incoherently of Selinous, of Heraia, ofKabir, and Apollo. He showed no sign of recognizing Hodo and the pityingtraders that clustered about the tent where he lay. Rather, he gave themstrange names which they had never heard; he talked to them in his ownlanguage; and he tried continually to sing in his cracked, harsh voice.Hodo watched him doubtfully for a time; then his lips straightened outand his crooked face grew grim. He dismissed every one from his tent,and set himself to watch over the sick man alone. Gradually Charmidessank into a drowsy state, and, five hours later, when the camels werereloaded and placed in line for the long night march, he was still buthalf conscious. Hodo had him lifted upon his camel and strapped there,since he showed himself unable to sit upright. A moment or two later thecry for the march was given, and the little procession started forwardat its usual trot. Next morning Charmides lay limply forward upon hisanimal's neck, in a state of irresistible coma; and Hodo mentallyprepared to bury him there in the sand before another dawn. All day,indeed, the Greek hovered on the borderland of death; yet, since he hadnot passed it when the halt was ended, he went on again with the rest inthe late afternoon.
For twelve hours now the rhapsode had been unconscious. It was, perhaps,the sudden renewal of motion, after the mid-day rest, that roused him.At all events, the caravan was scarcely moving before his eyes losttheir glazed stare, and he half closed them while he looked about him.It was a pleasant hour of the afternoon. Behind him the sun was nearingthe horizon, and in the sky overhead floated two or three featheryshreds of cloud--a gladsome sight. With an effort, in which hediscovered how very weak he had become, the rhapsode turned himself tillhe lay in such a position that he could watch the sunset. He had almostan hour to wait--a long, hot, drowsy hour, during which, however, he didnot drop back into torpor. As the sun sank, a ridge of white, billowyclouds, such as are almost never to be seen in those skies in summer,rose to catch the falling globe. And when the fire reached them,Charmides quivered with delight to see the flood of color--scarlet andpurple, and pale, pinkish gold--that ran over the white mass. A valleybetween two of these lofty hills received the central stream ofblood-fire, and on this blinding spot the Greek fixed his eyes andgazed, till his brain reeled with the seething glory. When the sun hadleft the world and the other lights grew pale, this one place retainedall its brightness. The watcher was too feeble even to wonder at thephenomenon; nor did he marvel when, out of this bank of fire, a figurebegan to resolve--a figure human in form and yet most splendidly divine.There was a face that glowed with the hues of the evening, framed inshort, waving locks of auburn red, still fiery with the sunset, andcrowned with a circlet of silver stars that burned radiantly through thecoming dusk. Then Charmides perceived that all the clouds had formedinto a flowing garment that enveloped the body of the apparition. Whenthe glow was quite gone, and purple shadows had stolen softly throughthe whole sky, the mighty figure stood out clearly and more clear, tillevery fold in the royal vestment was distinct, till the two brightstreaks that had stretched out on either side of the shoulders hadbecome wings of silver, and the patch of gold low on the right was alyre, ready-strung. The vision was complete. Charmides, now but halfsensible, scarcely noting the cool breath of the descending night,watched and thirsted for what he knew must come.
He had not long to wait. As the first, faint star came out into theevening, the heavenly figure moved, floating in stately swiftness uponhis outstretched wings towards the wormlike caravan that crawled acrossthe sands. And as he moved he lifted the lyre, drawing his hand acrossits strings. Charmides gave a faint gasp. It was as if his body had beenplunged into a running stream. Allaraine's music swept across hissenses, now in the faintest, long-drawn vibration, that drew the soul toone's lips and let it hang there, seeking to follow the flight of thesound; now in broad chords that swept like the storm-wind over theplain; again, melting into melody that bore one to the shore of thesunlit sea. The Heavenly One played on while the shepherd, in helplessecstasy, lay back, unnerved and numb, held to the camel only by thethongs with which Hodo had bound him there. It was a long time, thoughhow long the rhapsode could not tell, before he was roused by a warmthrill, to find that the bard of the skies floated beside him, one ofthe effulgent wings spreading out over his body, the light from itbathing his whole figure in a stream of strength-giving fire. And evenin his amazement Charmides wondered why he heard no sound from anymember of the caravan. All was still around him. Star-spangled darknesswas over them all. The moon had not yet risen. Hodo was nodding on hiscamel, and many of the traders were in their first sleep. Only he, onlythe Charmides whom they had thought dying, was awake to welcome themessenger of the gods that honored them by his coming. The Greek, lyingunder the shadow of the silver wing, felt that a prayer or some otherfitting acknowledgment of the presence should be made. So he struggledto an upright position and raised his face to that of the god. Slowlythe star-crowned head turned to him, and a pair of deeply glowing eyes,filled with benign pity, and great with suffering, looked upon theyouth. Charmides' lids fell shut in sudden, ecstatic terror, and, whilehis head was bent, he felt upon his hair the touch of the god. Instantlyhe fell back. Then, once upon his left eye and once upon his right, camethe imprint of the divine mouth. With the kisses blackness rolled overhim. His spirit slept.
Morning, clear, cloudless, infinitely stifling, swept over the desert.Hodo, who had drowsed through the night, lifted his head and lookedabout him, trying to define the sense of weight at his heart. Herealized it presently, and, reluctant with fear, turned and lookedbehind him. Yes. The dread was justified. Charmides lay white and limpupon his camel. They must bury him that day under the yellow sand ofthis godless waste. Hodo's crooked little face screwed up spasmodically.Then he gave the long, quavering cry that meant, "Halt the caravan."With some little difficulty the camels were reined up, and all watchedHodo make the dismount and run to the side of the animal on which theGreek was bound. Then they understood; and a long, low, minor wail, thegreeting to death, rose from every throat. It stopped with extremesuddenness when Hodo gave a sudden shout of amazement. Every trader sawCharmides suddenly sit up, and a few directly behind heard his voice,stronger than for a week past, cry to his friend a Phoenician greetin
g.
"Charmides is not dead!" shouted the leader, in unmistakable delight."It is a miracle! He is well again! The fever is gone!"
The rhapsode smiled, and spoke his thanks to Hodo for all the past care;but of how he had been made well he said not a word, for he knew thatthe miracle had been for him alone. At the noon halt the merchants oneby one came up to him, pressing his hand to their breasts and givingevery expression of friendly joy at his recovery. And fully recovered hewas, indeed. During the succeeding days his fever did not return; nordid the long hours of the march tire him as hitherto. He returned now tothe tent that he had at first occupied; and, as he ate and slept withhis Babylonish comrades, he tried again, with more success, to acquire afew phrases in the new tongue. He found his companions willing andpatient teachers. And, truly, patience was necessary. The lips thatcould so aptly form the melodious syllables of the most beautiful oflanguages were awkward beyond belief at mouthing out the thick words andstrangely constructed phrases of the Semitic tongue.
In the days that followed his recovery Charmides passed the hours of themarch in profound reveries, which, as the days went by, became troubled.One afternoon, after long deliberation, he made his way to Hodo's tent.That little fellow was sitting cross-legged on a rug, drinking khilbumfrom a bronze cup, and blinking thoughtfully at the stretch of yellowsand before him. Hodo gave cordial greeting to the Greek, proffered himwine, and then sank once more into silence. Charmides disposed of hisbeverage at a draught, and, after a little hesitancy, looked at hiscompanion and asked:
"Hodo, how many gods do thy people worship?"
The Babylonian looked up quickly. "Twelve--of the great gods, withoutAsshur, whom the Assyrians brought among us, besides many demons, manyspirits, and Mulge and Allat of the under-world. Why do you ask?"
"Because I would learn which it is among your gods that is winged withsilver, crowned with stars, dressed in a purple vesture, and carries inhis right hand a lyre of gold."
Hodo screwed his face into a puzzled knot. "Stars--wings--purplevesture--lyre--I do not know. Never have I heard that any of the godscarried a lyre. It is not an instrument much known to us. In the sacredscriptures Bel is said to carry a staff, and I have seen him on thewalls of the temple with wings. So also Namtar flies. But the rest--howdo you know these things?"
"This god appeared to me in a dream," replied the rhapsode.
Hodo found nothing to say to this, and Charmides also was silent. TheBabylonian refilled their wine-cups, and, after they had been emptied,the Greek rose and left the tent, unsatisfied, yet deterred by anindefinable feeling from talking further on the subject of the vision.
So the weeks went by, and the moon waned and grew young again, until,upon the twenty-first day after leaving Damascus, they were butforty-eight hours out of the Great City. That afternoon, just after thestart was made, when the camels, after more water than usual, weremoving briskly over the sand, Charmides' eyes, wandering to the distanthorizon, encountered something that set his heart wildly throbbing.
"Hodo! Hodo!" he shouted. "It is the city! Look! The Great City!"
From Hodo, in front, there came, after a minute's look, a ringing laugh."Yes, it is the ghost of the false city. We see it often here in thedesert, as we see lakes and trees that are not. Truly it is a strangething."
Charmides heard him incredulously. Before his eyes was certainly avision of mighty walls, and square towers, and gates, and many-roofedpalaces outlined against the heat-blurred sky. They kept their places,too, seeming to grow more and more distinct as the caravan proceeded.The rhapsode closed his eyes and opened them again. It was still there.Yes, he could now see the groups of palm-trees and faint outlines ofolive foliage around the walls; and presently, when a broad, blue riverwas to be seen winding its way from east to west through the plain,Charmides turned on his camel and called to Tirutu behind:
"Is not yonder city indeed Babylon, Tirutu?"
But the trader smiled and slowly shook his head, and Charmides, halfangry and wholly unconvinced, turned again to the sight that entrancedhim. Clear and straight, for ten minutes more, it stood out against thesky. Then, of a sudden, the city vanished in one quiver, and, where ithad been, only the dark horizon-line, straight and unbroken, stretchedaway as usual. Charmides was sad that the dream had vanished; but hecould laugh at himself when Hodo turned to look at him with good-naturedamusement. Still, the picture remained with him, and came to seem, inafter years, his first impression of the far-famed city that was to behis home.
The march that night was more rapid than usual, and the halt next daynot made till the heat was past bearing. At the noon meal mirth ranhigh, and wine and water were drunk with an abandon possible only to menwho had for three weeks practised a cruel restraint. Twenty-four hoursmore would bring them to Babylon, and already they were on the bordersof civilization and fertility.
On this day Charmides sat apart from his companions, feeling no desireto join in their loud joy. When finally the company lay down to rest,the Greek felt that sleep was impossible for him, and he went off aloneto the little tent where formerly a guard had been stationed, but whichwas empty now. Here he sat down upon the sand and let his thoughts holdunbridled sway. For he was standing on the threshold of his new world,and he could not but pause for a moment to think of all that he had leftbehind him. It was a melancholy time, but not a long, before Hodo'svoice was to be heard giving the signal for the last mount. Quickly thetents were struck and bound upon the camels; and then the littleprocession moved away towards the line of green that bounded the yellowsands.
By morning they found on all sides fertile fields of grain, alreadyripening. And Charmides' sand-weary eyes rested with untold delight onthe rows of wheat, millet, and sesame, barred here and there with littlestreams of water conducted from the broad canals that ran everywherethrough the land, and filled all the year round by the greatmother-stream, Euphrates. Now and then the caravan passed a mud-villageset in the midst of a broad field of grass where goats, sheep, andbullocks herded and donkeys and camels were tethered side by side. Thepeople of these villages were of the lowest Chaldaic type, nearly black,thick-lipped, large-nosed, and short of stature. Charmides regarded themwith dismay. He had seen one or two negro slaves brought from northernAfrica to Mazzara, and they had seemed to him less than human. Were themen of this new race all like that? Presently, however, they came upon areassuring sight. The caravan passed one of the large stone wells thatstood in the middle of a grain-field. From it a buffalo, at work in hisrude tread-mill, was drawing water, and beside the animal, clothed in along, white garment, bearing a tall jar on her head, one hand upraised,the other on her hip, stood a slight girl with a skin almost as white asCharmides' own. Her eyes and hair were shining black; but as Charmideslooked at her she flashed a smile at him, showing a set of pearly teeth,and, a moment later, laughing aloud, a pure, ringing laugh, that in someway set Charmides into a cheery frame of mind for the rest of the day.
He came afterwards to know that it was not a native of Babylonia whom hesaw at the well, but one of a captive race resident in this Eastern landsince the year when the city of Solomon fell before the armies of thegreat son of Nabopolassar. But there were Babylonians also as white asthe Jews, their Semitic blood having at some time been mingled with thatof Aryan races, Persians, Elamites, or, perhaps, Assyrians, whom athousand years of a colder clime had materially bleached.
This last day became fiercely hot, but no noon halt was made. Each manmunched a piece of bread and a handful of dates, and drank a cup ofgoat's milk purchased on the way, and the camels were given twentyminutes' rest and an armful of fodder in the shade of a palm grove neara canal. Then the march was eagerly resumed, for, even now, many milesaway, the gigantic walls of Nimitti-Bel, the outer wall of the city,were to be seen towering up on the horizon. At four o'clock they passedthrough Borsip, the suburb of Babylon, towards which Hodo cast lovingeyes, for it was his home. But it was night before they entered the opengateway of Nimitti-Bel, that incredibly gig
antic structure, the fame ofwhich had spread over all the East; and it took nearly an hour totraverse the sparsely inhabited space between that and the smaller,inside wall, Imgur-Bel. And before they had reached this, Hodo, turning,called to the Greek:
"We sleep to-night outside the gate of Bel. It is too late for admissionto the city. The sun has set."
Charmides nodded an absent-minded acquiescence. His thoughts had beenstunned by the first glimpse of this tremendous city, and the chaos inhis mind was too great for him to pay attention to any trivial remark.Hitherto his measure of magnitude of buildings had been the new templeof Apollo at Selinous, with its length of four hundred feet, its widthof two hundred, its columns more than fifty feet high: this for atemple, the third largest in the Greek world. Now he was confronted by awall, a wall of defence, forty miles long, two hundred feet from base tosummit,[4] and of such a thickness that upon its top two four-horsechariots could pass with ease. Watch-towers, in which guards lived, rosehigher still from the great wall, that was open in a hundred places,each opening provided with a gate of wrought brass, which was closedfrom sunset to dawn.
As the caravan neared the inner and lesser wall and approached the gateof Bel, Charmides saw that before it was a square space, well paved andarranged with stalls and booths, in which a goodly number of peopleevidently purposed passing the night. Each of the hundred gates wasprovided with a sort of customs bureau, where all goods to be sold inthe city were appraised and taxed according to a fixed tariff. From thispetty fee cattle, grain, and fruits were not exempt; and, since theofficer of taxes was off duty from sunset till sunrise, it frequentlyoccurred that, on a market or festival day, each rebit, or square beforea gate, was occupied through the night by those that wished to enter thecity early in the morning.
As the line of weary camels came to a final halt, and the score ofwearier men dismounted for the last time, there was one general, shortcry of thanksgiving, in which Charmides joined as heartily as the rest;and then Hodo sought him and took him by the arm, drawing him along thesquare as he said:
"We will sup together, Charmides--yonder."
In a corner against the wall an enterprising merchant had set up a smallrestaurant of clever design, where hot wheaten cakes, roast goat'sflesh, and cooked sesame, together with various fruits, flasks offermented liquor, jars of beer, or flagons of goat's milk might bebought at a very reasonable price. Charmides rejoiced at the sight offood, for he was spent with the heat and the journey. And he offered tochange one of his silver pieces for such of the food as Hodo and hedesired. But this the little Babylonian would not have.
"This night is the last, my Greek. Eat with me. Many a use there will befor that silver of yours. On your first night within Nimitti-Bel youshall be my guest."
Then Charmides tried to thank his friend once more for all the voluntaryand unlooked-for kindness that had been shown him since the caravan leftTyre. It was with difficulty, indeed, that the rhapsode found wordsfittingly sincere for his gratitude. But, long before he had finished,Hodo, with a little, deprecating gesture, stopped him.
"You shall not thank _me_, Charmides," he said, sadly. "Rather blessthose gods that gave you a face so fair and a personality so graciousthat he who comes in contact with you cannot but love you. Truly, youth,I am loath to part with you; and I hope that you will not rise so highthat in after-time your eyes will be above the level of mine."
Charmides' reply to this was simply to press the other's hand to hisbrow. Then, the two having finished their meal, they wrapped up theircloaks for cushions and sat down, with their backs to the wall, to watchthe sights in the square. Charmides held his bundle on his knees, andhis lyre lay beside him on the ground. He was bareheaded, and, as he satin the shadow of the wall, his face was indistinguishable to thepassers-by. Hodo was silent, and Charmides felt no inclination to talk.His eyes wandered over the busy square, from which a clatter oftalk was rising. To the Greek, looking on, it seemed as if a hundrednationalities were before him, so different were the faces, dress,and manners of the men and women passing on every side. Here aheavy-bearded, coarse-clad goatherd, with his flock around him, layalready asleep. There a company of market-girls, bare-headed, in looselyfluttering robes, stood gossiping together or laughing at the littledate-merchant opposite. Before the gate were half a dozen soldiers withpermits for entering the city after hours, quaffing beer, or the heavyliquor of the date-cabbage, from their helmets. Farther away adonkey-boy was beating a refractory member of his drove into submission;while, in the very centre of the square, the group of camels belongingto Hodo's caravan lay gazing loftily at the scene before them, theirself-satisfied faces showing no trace of the fatigue that three longweeks upon the desert sands must surely have brought them. All these,and infinitely more, the rhapsode watched with increasing interest. Newarrivals were frequent, and the square gradually became massed withpeople.
"To-morrow is the eleventh of the month," observed Hodo, suddenly, fromhis reverie. "There will be the procession of Nebo and Nergal, and,later, a feast in the temple. That is why _so_ many of the country-folkhave come."
Charmides nodded assent. He was watching some one of whom he had caughtsight three or four moments before--a young girl, making her way througha drove of donkeys and sheep. She was accompanied by a single large,white goat, that followed her closely, and to which she paid but littleattention, seeming sure of its faithfulness. Barefooted, long-haired,raggedly clad, and very young--a mere child of fourteen or so--she was.Yet, as Charmides watched her, he found something in the quiet droop ofher eyelids, the pathetic curve of her mouth, and the pallor of hertired face that stayed in his mind through the whole evening. Shelingered for a moment or two outside the great gate. Then one of thesoldiers, catching sight of her, left his companions to open a smallinner door that led into the city. Through this the goat-girl passed,and Charmides once more turned to his companion, who was saying:
"Where do you go to-morrow, Charmides?"
The Greek paused to consider. Finally he answered, rather doubtfully: "Ido not know. I seek Istar of Babylon."
Hodo smiled, pityingly. "And after that--?"
Charmides shook his head. "I do not know," he repeated.
"Charmides, you will do well to come with me and stay with me for somedays, till you have learned the ways of Babylon. Will you, then--"
But the Greek quickly shook his head. "Again I thank you, Hodo. You aregood to me. But Apollo, my Lord, watches over me; and the god of thegolden lyre has made me well. With them I shall enter Babylon. With themI go before Istar. Say no more."
Hodo accepted the decision without further protest. Indeed, he ratherbelieved Charmides to be, in some respects, a little more than human. Atany rate, after a few moments more of watching the still-moving throng,he wrapped his cloak about him and lay down upon the stones. Charmidesshortly followed his example. And then, beneath the towering walls ofthe Great City, Charmides, in his dreams, knocked again upon the gate ofGod.
Istar of Babylon: A Phantasy Page 9