Istar of Babylon: A Phantasy

by Margaret Horton Potter

  VI

  ISTAR OF ERECH

  Early on the morning of July 20th, half Babylon assembled at the greatbridge that connected the king's road with the Mutaqutu. Floating on thewater, beneath the bridge and along the west bank, were the twentymagnificent barges destined to bear a divine and royal company down thewell-flowing river to the ancient city of Erech. It was not many hoursafter dawn that the start was to be made. Istar, driven in her flamingcar, arrived in good time, but too late to see the parting betweenAmraphel, who could not leave Babylon, and his three trusty priests,Vul-Raman of Bit-Yakin, Siatu-Sin and Gula-Zir, priest of Father Bel inBorsip. Their barge had been placed farthest from that of Istar, for thepurpose of attracting as little notice as possible. Their words withtheir master were not many, but they were well chosen. Vul-Raman wassmiling grimly as he moved to his place. The other two were serious, alittle pale, perhaps; but in neither heart was there any thought ofdrawing back from the purpose.

  Istar was in her place before the royal party arrived: Nabu-Nahid in onechariot, Belshazzar with Ribata in another, and behind them a long lineof lords, councillors, judges, and members of their households. As theprince stepped from his vehicle to the embankment, Istar caught sight ofhim. At the same instant his eyes, moving hurriedly over the scene as ifin search of something, encountered hers. A quiver passed through eachof them, and which was most affected it would be difficult to say.

  In the general melee of embarkation that followed, Belshazzar and hisparty managed to obtain the barge to the right of that on which Istarlay. Nabonidus and his officials were on the left; and after them formedthe lines of other boats, three abreast. When every one was safely inhis appointed place, and the fastenings had been cut, Istar's boatmenraised a long, quavering cry, that resolved into the first notes of asong. In this the men of every boat joined; and by the time the firstphrase was at an end, the long, thick-bladed oars were moving regularlythrough the water, and the brilliant pageant was moving down the ancientstream.

  To Istar the hours of this, her first day's journey, were long dreams ofpleasure. She had known nothing of the course of this river after itleft the confining banks of the city, through which it flowed darkly,rapidly, unbeautifully. Now the freedom of its winding course, thenative life, and the richness of verdure along its banks, the mightypalm-forests, the long stretches of grain-fields, the picturesqueirrigators at which men were continually at work, the droves of cattleand water-buffalo on the banks, the troops of cranes, pelicans, andflamingos in the water itself, the very warmth, the singing of thehurrying river, and the mournful answers of the boatmen, brought to hersuch a novel sense of joy and content as she had never before known. Ifmen loved life as she did for this moment--then she had alreadydiscovered the secret of the Great Master. It was freedom--freedom toroam at will through the fair world, with no tie to bind one to anyspot--the whole world one's home, one's delight.

  This day, with all its varied beauty, ended at last--melted away throughthe short, purple twilight into a starry night. The songs of the rowersdied. The river was very still. Those in the boats dropped away tosleep, one by one. Only Istar lay through the velvet hours open-eyed,trying to fathom the depths of this delight of hers--the delight that insome way had not all to do with the day and the scenery. She seemed nowto have entered into life. Till to-day she had been so protected, sohedged about with ceremonial and form, so hindered by her supposeddivinity, that now, in this first flush of her freedom, there rose againfrom her heart that deep cry for mortality that should bring her trueknowledge as to the falseness or truth of the new-found joy. She hadhoped for Allaraine to come to her that night; but the hours wore away,and when false dawn foreshadowed the morning he had failed her for thefirst time since her incarnation. There was a little sadness over this;but it was forgotten, presently, in the general stir of waking, ofeating, and of greeting the exquisite first moments of the day.

  Just as the barges started at full speed again after the long night ofdrifting, there came an incident that changed the aspect of the secondday from dreamy content to uneasy, troublous delight. One ofIstar's fan-slaves, whose duty it was to waft before her one of thelong-handled, peacock-feather fans, had disappeared in the night, no oneknew whither or why. Nothing was said to Istar about it. Some one hadtaken the slave's place. Her fans were waving as usual. It was an hourbefore some slight awkwardness in the manipulation of the implementcaused her to glance up at the wielder of it. Instantly a sharp cryescaped her lips. It was Belshazzar who was playing the slave. Instantlyshe bade him cease the work and return to his barge. This, stubbornlyenough, he refused to do; and the matter was finally ended by a eunuchtaking his place, while he lay down at the prow of Istar's boat, withhis face turned towards the goddess, who reclined uneasily on hercushions, seeking to avoid his glance, but returning to it again and yetagain, perhaps not wholly against her will.

  As Amraphel had foretold, the city of Erech appeared to them like ashadow through the twilight of the second day, rising, many-towered,from the east bank of the river. Darkness had come on before a landingwas made. Great bonfires had been lighted all along the banks of theriver; and thousands of people stood thronged together in their flaringlight, waiting to welcome their goddess and their king. Lusu-ana-Nuri,the governor of the city, with his lords and judges, stood at thelanding-stage. Istar, supported on the one side by Vul-Raman, on theother by Siatu-Sin, waited till the prostrations of the governor were atan end, and then mounted the magnificent car prepared for her, on whichshe was drawn slowly between endless lines of kneeling and awe-struckcitizens to her new abode, the vast temple of Istar of Erech, rebuilt byNabonidus on the site of that ancient one that her prototype was said tohave inhabited thousands of years before.

  On the temple platform, back of the great ziggurat, was the thirdbuilding--the dwelling-house of the living goddess; a palace of ahundred rooms, pricelessly furnished and decorated. Hither, alone in hercar, Istar was driven. It had been arranged that the king and all of hisaccompanying suite, together with Prince Belshazzar, should proceed withthe governor to his palace, where a huge feast had been prepared. Thegoddess herself, it had been thought, would prefer to pass this night incommunion with her heavenly brothers, in preparation for the ceremony ofthe morrow. At the entrance of her new abode she was received by a largecompany of eunuch priests, and of female Ukhatu and Kharimatu, togetherwith veiled nuns, prophetesses, and dancing-women. By these she wassurrounded, and reverently conveyed to an inner room, where was spread asavory repast. Of this she partook in solitude, to the mournful soundsof flutes, lyres, and cymbals playing a slow, rhythmical dance, to whichtwo maidens postured before her. It was a lonely and a dreary meal--onesuch as she had been long accustomed to, but which these two short dayson the river, where there had been many people, and laughter and gaysinging, had rendered more distasteful than ever before. Having eaten alittle, Istar requested that she be conveyed to her sleeping-room andthere left alone; for the strange faces and awed behavior of those abouther rendered her more forlorn than she would have been in entiresolitude.

  The sleeping-chamber was a long, narrow hall--the usual shape ofBabylonian and Assyrian rooms. At one end of it, on a raised dais, was acouch of ivory and beaten silver, piled high with rugs and cushions ofthe most costly materials. The walls and the narrow door-way were hungwith rich embroideries of a deep, purplish-blue color. The tiled floorwas strewn with rugs and skins, and the whole room was dimly lightedwith swinging-lamps of wrought bronze. Chairs of ebony, teak-wood, andivory, with tables of the same materials, were placed about theapartment. High in the wall at the lower end was a little, square windowthrough which might be seen a single brilliant star.

  Istar looked around her with pleasure. Two attendants remained at herside till a eunuch slave had brought in a silver tray containing a jarof rare wine with a golden drinking-cup. This he placed on a table nearthe couch. Then all three of them, obedient to her command, departed,after a series of the tiresome prostrations that were a continualwe
ariness to her.

  And now, at last, she was quite alone again--alone with the night, withthe great silence, with the dimly burning lamps, and with theawe-inspiring hush that had settled over her. She seated herself upon alow chair and folded her hands upon her knees. The presence of God wasdistinguishable in the room. All thought of the day that had just passedwas gone from Istar now. She felt a sense of the vastness of time, andof the immateriality of all things. She seemed to be alone in a greatvoid, a void filled by the incomprehensible power of the universalmaster. Her own thoughts frightened her. Her breath came more slowly.For a little time it seemed to her that to-night she was to return intoher former state. Whether she welcomed the end with joy or with sorrowshe could not have told. But the end was not yet come. How long it wasbefore she was restored to herself by the appearance of the rosy cloudof Allaraine she did not know. The strains of music from his lyre camefaintly to her ears, as from an immense distance. The mist and itswell-known nucleus were there with her. Yet now, and for the secondtime, that nucleus did not take on its proper shape; was not formulated.Allaraine was striving vainly to come to her. Considering the greatspirituality of her mood, this was doubly strange. Istar looked into thecloud with eyes that spoke her fear. The music itself melted--slowlydied away. The cloud grew paler and more mistlike. Quietly Istar rose,and, with mental insistence, held out her arms. There was one last burstof chords--chords that fell as from a great height in organ-tones as dimand beautiful as the evening wind. The single phrase struck home to herheart; it was a phrase of sorrow, of warning, of preparation for comingevil; a phrase that spoke, as a voice speaks, of suffering. Then, onceagain, there was silence; a silence as oppressive as heat. The windowwas clear again, and through it the star could be seen. The odor ofsandal-wood was strong in the room.

  Istar lay back in her broad chair. The memory of her old life grewfaint. Babylon lay leagues to the north, and she was no longer part ofit. The history of the ancient and sacred city in which this, hertemple-dwelling, stood, the shadowy legends that clung about itscrumbling and honored walls, presented themselves vividly to her mentalvision. She seemed now to be a part of the spirit of that other Istar,the Love-goddess, who, in her great incarnation, had loved and marriedthe warm and exquisite Spring, the Tammuz of present-day festivals, whohad appeared in human form then, when the world was younger and morefair. And she knew also with what vehemence that Istar had loved thegreat hero, the slayer of lions, the man of wisdom and strength,Izdubar, who had sought her out for aid in battle when the power of hisgood genius, Ea-Bani, failed him. And that Istar of old had not failed.As she thought of the two, and how Istar the Love-goddess had become thewoman of war, the lady of Arbela, the mind of this other of divine racewas filled indiscriminately with the soft murmurings of spring and themartial clang of arms. Happy, indeed, had been that Istar of old; forshe had loved, and had protected whom she loved, fearing none, obeyingno power higher than herself. But now--if the people of the city wereseeking such another as she had been, they must wail at last in theirdisappointment. Neither Tammuz nor Izdubar--neither beauty norstrength--had come to her to love her; nor could she have given all thather predecessor knew so well how to give. Love! What was it? Vagueimaginings flitted through the Narahmouna's mind. She paused, inthinking, to hearken to the silence. A city of sleep lay about her onevery hand. Stirred any creature there through the night? Her headdrooped upon her knee. She listened to the throbbing of the stillness.Yea, some one besides herself was awake with the darkness. She coulddistinguish soft footsteps near her door. Some slave, no doubt, wasgoing to a vigil in the temple. Silence again. The steps had not diedaway, but seemed suddenly to stop near by her very portal. Istarlistened again, but still did not lift her head. She knew that thecurtain overhanging the door-way was being pushed aside. There was someone else in the room with her. She felt the presence, and her heartceased to beat. Yet it was not fear that sent the blood to her heart.Only when the some one was very near, when the fold of a flowing mantletouched her shoulder, did she finally lift her bowed head and look. Atthe same instant, before she could rise up, half in terror, half in joy,the man sank abjectly at her feet. A white, fearful, half-daring facewas lifted up to her. A pair of haunted storm-eyes caught and held herlook. A moving, nerveless hand clutched the hem of her garment.

  Istar hardly breathed. It was all too vague, too dreamlike, tooimpossible, for her to realize what had happened. She was without fear,yet she shook like an aspen. She let her eyes answer that other look.Then, from the gaze, something was born within her. Something chokedher. She gasped for breath. Finally, with a sudden cry of terror, shecovered her face with her hands and rose unsteadily to her feet.

  Belshazzar did not stir; neither did he take his eyes from her as shemoved across the room. His heart was pounding furiously against hisside, and his head swam with the power of the emotion that had drivenhim in this way to her presence. A wonderful thing passed before hiseyes. That veil of light, that had held the goddess safe in itsprotective depths since her incarnation, was almost gone. It had beenrent and torn from her by the force of the change within her; and now ithung around her form in thin, glittering shreds that melted away likehoar-frost in the sunlight. At last he saw unconcealed what that had solong unbearably tantalized him: that which, hitherto, had only revealeditself to him by accident, a line, a single curve accentuated by agesture, at a time. Now, all at once, it was before him quitevisible--the delicate, fragile form of a perfect woman, clad in clingingdraperies of purple embroidered in silver, sandalled in silver, the headuncrowned, the waves of silken, black hair falling unbound behind her.

  She had stood at the far end of the room, statue-like, for a long time,before he came back to himself, before he realized how he lay. Then, insome way, he got to his feet and went to her; carefully by instinct;repressing himself at every step. She knew that he came, yet did notseem to shrink. Before he reached her side, however, he broke thesilence between them, saying, huskily:

  "Istar--do you bid me go?"

  She did not at once reply, though he did not know whether or not shemeditated over her answer. While she still paused, the eyes of theprince dilated with anxiety. Finally came the reply in a whisper so lowthat it was a miracle he heard it: "Not Istar of Arbela; Istar of Erech,I. Go--if thou wilt--"

  In another instant Belshazzar was upon her, had taken her into hisheroic arms, was drowning her cries of amazement in the passionatetorrent of his emotion; and for a little she was still, while wondertook full possession of her. Then there came from her lips one cry thatwould not be silenced--a cry that rang through the room and passed outof the window, winging its way upward to high heaven: a cry of momentaryanguish, of something forever lost, of something also gained. It was nomore the voice of the Being Divine. It was that of a woman.

  Hearing it, involuntarily, Belshazzar drew back from her, smitten with akind of terror at what he must have done. She was there, wide-eyed andshivering, before him. The last shred of her aureole was gone. Shesobbed. Her eyes had become blindly bright, and presently overflowed. Inthat first moment of humanity she wept. It was her destiny. Somethingmore she did also. In her weakness, in her great solitude, she did whatwomen will. All alone in a strange world, unsheltered, unprotected,amazed and confused by the great tumult raging within her, she turned tohim who stood before her, the embodiment of human strength and beauty,and to him she held out her arms.

  Belshazzar went to her, not fiercely now, but reverently, almost as muchamazed as she herself at this more than fulfilment of the dream that hehad so long and so blasphemously cherished. Holding her again close inhis arms, his senses reeled under the human warmth of her body. Bendinghis dark head over hers he whispered to her, in such a tone as he hadnever used before, those words that make the world immortal:

  "Istar! Oh, my beloved! I love thee!"

  One of her arms crept fearfully round his neck, and the tears from hereyes fell upon his cheeks, and he understood that she answered him.Knowing not what else was left
for her, she clung to him the moreclosely as he lifted her slender body and carried her up to the dais atthe far end of the room. And so through the night, while the lampsburned low, and the white star sank from sight, for those two, throughthe wisdom of God, time ceased, and their souls were mingled witheternity. And over them, though neither of them saw, in answer to themortal cry of their one-time sister, archetype on archetype descendedfrom the height to watch over the place where Istar had become a woman.

  * * * * *

  Night, the enchanted night, the twenty-second of the burning midsummermonth, hung heavily through the great spaces of the temple of Istar.Silence, far-reaching and luminous, spread within from the open portals,past the altar and the deep and the sacred recording-stone, to the footof the first of the steps that led up to the curtained door of thesanctuary, within which the sanctification of the temple was to takeplace in the morning. The east was still black when the first dimfigures, forerunners of the vast crowds that by sunrise would fill thetemple to overflowing, passed the bronze gates and took their places atthe foot of the sanctuary steps.

  White dawn entered, mistlike, through the portals of the high house, andthe myriad temple lights that had pierced the night with their tinypoints of flame grew very dim; and when at last the sun sent his firstscarlet and golden messengers up the eastern sky to announce his coming,these lights came to resemble mere reflections of the burnished brassand beaten gold that covered the temple walls. By now there was animmense throng inside, and moment by moment it was augmented; for allErech, and all the country-side for miles around, was making its way tothis place. Finally the long-awaited Shamash leaped into the sky,holding before him his shield of glory, sending a great shaft of lightinto this dwelling-place of his sister Istar. A murmur of prayers forthe morning rose up through the lofty spaces of the temple-roof, and thesilence that followed these was intense with expectation; for now, atany moment, their goddess might come to them.

  Within the sanctuary everything had long since been prepared. During thenight several priestesses of Istar had kept a vigil there, offering upcontinuous prayers before the stone pedestal on which, in any othertemple, the statue of the goddess would have stood. Water, over whichone hundred charms and incantations had been said, filled the purifyingbasin. The place was sweet with the odor of spices, and its air hunghazy with incense. Beside the broad basin, upon a table plated withgold, stood a flask of perfumed oil, treasured for many years for useupon some such holy occasion as this. The little, windowless room waslighted by a swinging-lamp of exquisite workmanship, kept burning nightand day in the perpetual gloom. In this place the consecrated hieroduleshad held their prayerful watch through the long night of the passion;and at dawn they left it empty, to await the coming of its divineoccupant. Five minutes after the departure of the veiled women, however,the sanctuary was invaded by three persons who bore no resemblance togods. Vul-Raman and his two companions, their priests' dresses coveredwith long cloaks of sombre hue, glided in through the concealed doorbehind the pedestal. The three of them were pale and rather anxious-eyedas they took up the positions suggested by Amraphel. Vul-Raman, only,carried a weapon: the same thin-bladed, delicate knife that he had usedon more than one occasion similar to this. Twice he ran his fingercarefully along the edge of the blade, and the last time his skin wasneatly slit by the metal. Satisfied with the trial, he slipped thelittle instrument under his cloak again, and then the long, nervousvigil of the murderers began.

  By the time the sun was half an hour high, the crowd outside the templehad become restless, and the close-packed rows of men and women were asimpatient as they dared to be. No one of any importance had yet made anappearance. Surely the king, the prince, the governor, and theirattendant lords should be here by this time. Would Istar come if theystill delayed? Would that she might! And then, the mention of Istaragain bringing up the most absorbing of all topics, every man and hisneighbor fell to talking of how he had seen her on the previous eveningon her way from the river to her temple; and on every hand were hearddescriptions of her wonderful and unearthly presence. That bafflingradiance that flowed about her was the veil of Sin, her father. Itproclaimed her divinity as nothing else could have proclaimed it.Heretofore there had been not a little scepticism over the exaggeratedreports brought down from Babylon during the two past years; but therewas no scepticism in Erech to-day. Goddess she assuredly was; and as agoddess she should dwell in the heavenly house they had built for her,on ground consecrated to her many thousands of years ago.

  At last, from the street leading up to the temple, came a blare oftrumpets and a clangor of cymbals, and a shiver of excitement overranthe people when they realized the approach of the king and his royaltrain. Four ushers with lily-topped wands forced a passage through thecrowd, and finally entered the temple itself, where the making of anaisle was no easy task.

  Amid tumultuous shouts the lordly company left their chariots, andpassed in processional line, between the people, clear to the foot ofthe sanctuary steps. Gentle-faced Nabonidus, arm-in-arm with thegovernor of the city, came first; and the throng made reverent way forthem. Belshazzar, pale-faced and utterly overwrought, physicallyexhausted, mentally apprehensive, followed his father, walking alone.The people looked after him curiously as he passed, and many were thewhispers to the effect that the prince-royal was a wild and dissolutefellow. After these three notables came the lords, judges, andcouncillors, Ribata among them, more puzzled than he would haveacknowledged at his friend's too apparent state of mind. This entirecompany found places immediately at the foot of the sanctuary steps.Nabonidus and his son faced each other, standing the one on the left,the other on the right hand of the spot where Istar must pause ere shewent up into the high place. Both king and prince were in priest'sdress--white muslin, goat-skin, and golden girdles, with anklets andbracelets of gold, and feather tiaras set in wrought gold. Seeing thisgarb, a few among the people chanced to remember the three Babylonishpriests that had come down the river with the king. But there was no onethat knew where they might be, and none cared enough to press aninquiry.

  Now, certainly, Istar was late. The people were tired and impatient, andthere were not a few who, having waited here since dawn, complainedbitterly of the divine tardiness. But there was only one person in thatthrong that suffered both physically and mentally with suspense. Thiswas he who, one hour before, had left Istar's side; he who now stood,ghastly pale, heavy-eyed, and nerveless with anxiety, at the sanctuarysteps. Could she come here this morning? Would she come? And how wouldthe ordeal affect her? It seemed almost impossible that she could gothrough with it, overwrought as she was. Yet what would be the resultwith the people did she fail them?

  Ah! What was that? The minor cadences of the chant of priestesses wereto be heard outside the temple. She was coming then. She was here!

  At the door of the temple stood a large company of yellow-robed women,half of them veiled, half of them with their faces bare. In their midst,as yet invisible to the people, was Istar. Still, they recognized herpresence, and there was a sudden, vast rustling, as all that immensethrong, with one impulse, sank to their knees there in the sacred hall.After a momentary pause on the threshold the ranks of the women parted,and Istar came forth alone.

  Clothed like the sun she was, in tissue upon tissue of woven gold, thatshimmered with a thousand rays. Her hair was crowned with gold,incrusted with deep-hued beryls, and from the back of the diadem floateda gold-wrought veil, beneath which lay her lustrous hair, a dark, silkenmass. Dazzled at first by her shimmering garments, it was not till thesecond moment that the ten thousand eyes sought her face. Then--itseemed to Belshazzar that he could _feel_ the change in the multitude._Goddess?_--That?--That pale-faced, wide-eyed woman? Nay! And yet--shewas beautiful. She was so beautiful in her unveiled pallor that shemight well have been looked on as something more than human. There wasno radiant aureole of divinity around her now. Perhaps that had been atwilight dream. And, the first shock of disappointment ov
er, most of thepeople would have worshipped her still. Men's eyes followed her withinexpressible wonderment as, inch by inch, she moved up the aisle. Whatagony that passage was to her even Belshazzar could not know. She wasbarely conscious as she neared the steps; for it was the first time thatshe had ever really walked.

  To Istar's eyes the temple was dim. The murmur of whispers reached heras from a great distance. She realized vaguely what she was expected todo, while her eyes were riveted on one thing, and her soul was strivingto leave her body that it might reach the sooner that which she loved.In the first instant of her mortality Belshazzar's image had beenstamped indelibly upon her heart and in her brain. And now that hehimself was there before her, she felt only that she must get to him.She cared to go no further.

  The long distance was traversed at last. She stood at the foot of thesanctuary steps, Belshazzar close upon her right hand, the king upon herleft, all the mass of people behind her. She must go up, she must mountup into the space that for a moment seemed to stretch out before herlike the spaces of heaven--vast, limitless, infinite. She placed herfoot upon the first step, hesitated for an instant, shivered with cold,then, with a mighty effort, lifted herself up and stopped. Perhaps itwas well that at this moment neither Vul-Raman above nor the crowd belowcould see her face. It bore an expression of fear, of horror, such ascannot be pictured by human imagination. Still she ascended one morestep, and none could have realized the heroism that carried her there.Could she go on? Must she? Suddenly a great cry burst from her. Her facebecame livid. Her teeth chattered, and her hands worked nervelessly. Shewas forbidden to progress. There, towering above her in menacing wrath,was a throng of shadowy things, of huge wings, of heavenly forms, justdiscernible to her eyes, invisible to all others. The archetypes ofheaven were before her, barring her way, crying her fall to her, drivingher back from the high place to which no mortal might attain. Onegesture she made--lifted both arms to them in pitiable pleading. Then,with a fainter cry, she reeled and fell, backward and down, and, whilethe mighty vision faded from her mortal eyes, Belshazzar caught herlifeless body in his arms. As he did so there came an uproar from everyside of the temple: vague, indeterminate, angry murmurs, presentlysilent before one trumpet-voice, bolder than the rest, that voiced thefeeling of the men of Erech. This cry was taken up and repeated, andcried again, till the temple-roof quivered with it, and the stoutest ofhearts quailed before its wrath:

  "This is a woman! A woman! It is a woman!"

  Belshazzar, with lion mien, and storm-eyes blazing with fury, faced themall with his burden in his arms; and, angry and disgusted as they wereat the great deceit, not a hand was lifted against this prince of theirblood who espoused the cause of the false woman, the pretender. As hebore her from them out of the temple, there was none to notice theparting of the sanctuary curtains; none to perceive the pale, peeringface of Vul-Raman of Bit-Yakin, whose glittering knife was cold withdesire for human blood. The priest stared fearfully upon the generaltumult; for of all that company he was now the only one that believed inthe divinity of Istar of Babylon. For how but by divinity had she thatmorning escaped her death?