“Oh, God! Can such things be!” he cried loudly, reckless of all possible risk for himself as his voice rang penetratingly through the deep silence— “Were these brute-murderers actual men? — or but the wandering, grim shadows of some long past crime? … Nay, — surely I do but dream! — and ghouls and demons born out of nightmare-sleep do vex my troubled spirit! Justice! … justice for the innocent! … Is there none in all Al-Kyris?”
“None!” replied the old man who stood beside him, lamp in hand, fixing his dark, melancholy eyes upon him as he spoke— “None! … neither in Al-Kyris nor in any other great city on the peopled earth! Justice? … I who am named Zuriel the Mystic, because of my tireless searching into things that are hidden from the unstudious and unthinking, — I know that Justice is an idle name, — an empty braggart-word forever on the mouths of kings and judges, but never in their hearts! Moreover, — what is guilt? … What is innocence? Both must be defined according to the law of the realm wherein we dwell, — and from that law there can be no appeal. These men we lately saw were the chief priests and executioners of the Sacred Temple, — they have done no wrong — they have simply fulfilled their duty. The culprits slain deserved their fate, — they loved where loving was forbidden, — torture and death was the strictly ordained punishment, and herein was justice, — justice as portioned out by the Penal Code of the High Court of Council.”
Theos heard, and gave an expressive gesture of loathing and contempt.
“O narrow jurisdiction! … O short-sighted, false equity!” he exclaimed passionately. “Are there different laws for high and low? … Must the weak and defenceless be condemned to death for the self-same sin committed openly by their more powerful brethren who yet escape scot-free? What of the High Priestess then? … If these poor lover-victims merited their doom, why is not Lysia slain? … Is not SHE a willingly violated vestal? … doth SHE not count her lovers by the score? … are not her vows long since broken? … is not her life a life of wanton luxury and open shame? … Why doth the Law, beholding these things, remain in her case dumb and ineffectual?”
“Hush, hush, my son!” said the aged Zuriel anxiously— “These stone walls hear thee far too loudly, — who knows but they may echo forth thy words to unsuspected listeners! Peace — peace! … Lysia is as much Queen, as Zephoranim is King of Al-Kyris; and surely thou knowest that the sins of tyrants are accounted virtues, so long as they retain their ruling powers? The public voice pronounces Lysia chaste, and Zephoranim faithful; who then shall dare to disprove the verdict?— ’Tis the same in all countries, near and far, — the law serves the strong, while professing to defend the weak. The rich man gains his cause, — the beggar loses it, — how can it be otherwise, while lust of gold prevails? Gold is the moving-force of this our era, — without it kings and ministers are impotent, and armies starve, . . with it, all things can be accomplished even to the concealment of the foulest crimes. Come, come! …” and he laid one hand kindly on Theos’s arm, “Thou hast a generous and fiery spirit, but thou shouldst never have been born into this planet if thou seekest such a thing as Justice! No man will ever deal true justice to his fellow man on earth, unless perhaps in ages to come, when the old creeds are swept away for a new, and a grander, wider, purer form of faith is accepted by the people. For religion in Al-Kyris to-day is a hollow mockery, — a sham, kept up partly from fear, — partly from motives of policy, — but every thinker is an atheist at heart, . . our splendid civilization is tottering towards its fall, . . and should the fore-doomed destruction of this city come to pass, vast ages of progress, discovery, and invention will be swept away as though they had never been!”
He paused and sighed, — then continued sorrowfully— “There is, there must be something wrong in the mechanism of life, — some little hitch that stops the even wheels, — some curious perpetual mischance that crosses us at every turn, — but I doubt not all is for the best, and will prove most truly so hereafter!”
“Hereafter!” echoes Theos bitterly … “Thinkest thou that even God, repenting of the evil He hath done, will ever be able to compensate us by any future bliss, for all the needless anguish of the Present?”
Zuriel looked at him with a strange, almost spectral expression of mingled pity, fear, and misgiving, but he offered no reply to this home-thrust of a question. In grave silence and with slow, majestic tread he began to lead the way along through the dismal labyrinth of black, winding arches, holding his blue lamp aloft as he went, the better to lighten the dense gloom.
Theos followed him, silent also, and wrapped in stern, and mournful musings of his own, . . musings through which faint threads of pale recollection connected with his past glimmered hazily from time to time, perplexing rather than enlightening his bewildered brain.
Presently he found himself in a low, narrow vestibule illumined by the bright yet soft radiance of a suspended Star, — and here, coming close up with his guide and observing his dress and manner more attentively, he suddenly perceived a shining SOMETHING which the old man wore hanging from his neck and which flashed against the sable hue of his garment like a wandering moonbeam.
Stopping abruptly, he examined this ornament with straining, wistful gaze, . . and slowly, very slowly, recognized its fashion of construction, — it was a plain silver Cross — nothing more. Yet at sight of the sacred, strange, yet familiar Symbol, a chord seemed to snap in his brain, — tears rushed to his tired eyes, and with a sharp cry he fell on his knees, grasping his companion’s robe wildly, as a drowning man grasps at a floating spar, — while the venerable Zuriel, startled at his action, stared down upon him in evident amazement and terror.
“Rescue! … rescue!” he cried, … “O thou blessed among men! — thou dost wear the Sign of Eternal Safety! … the Sign of the Way, the Truth, and the Life! … ‘without the Way, there is no going, without the Truth there is no knowing, without the Life there is no living’! Now do I know thee for a saint in Al-Kyris, — for thou dost openly avow thyself a follower of the Divine Faith that fools despise, and selfish souls repudiate, . . ah, I do beseech thee, thou good and holy man, absolve me of my sin of Unbelief! Teach me! … help me! … and I will hear thy counsels with the meekness of a listening child! ..See you, I kneel! … I pray! … I, even I, am humiliated to the very dust of shame! I have no pride, . . I seek no glory, … I do entreat, even as I once rejected the blessing of the Cross, whereby I shall regain my lost love, — my despised pardon, — my vanished peace!”
And, with pathetic earnestness, he raised his hands toward the silver emblem, and touched it tenderly, reverently, … then as though unworthy, he bent his head low, and waited eagerly for a Name, . . a Name that he himself could not remember, . . a Name suggested by the Cross, but not declared. If that Name were once spoken in the form of a benediction, he felt instinctively that he would straightway be released from the mysterious spell of misery that bound his intelligence in such a grievous thrall. But not a word of consolation did his companion utter, . . on the contrary, he seemed agitated by the strangest surprise and alarm.
“Now may all the gods in Heaven defend thee, thou unhappy, desperate, distracted soul!” he said in trembling, affrighted accents. “Thou dost implore the blessing of a Faith unknown! … a Mystery predicted but not yet fulfilled…a Creed that shall not be declared to men for full FIVE THOUSAND YEARS!”
CHAPTER XXI.
THE CRIMSON RIVER.
At these unexpected words Theos sprang wildly to his feet. An awful darkness seemed to close in upon him, — and a chaotic confusion of memories began to whirl and drift through his mind like flotsam and jetsam tossed upon a storm-swept sea. The aged and shadowy-looking Zuriel stood motionless, watching him with something of timid pity and mild patience.
“FIVE THOUSAND YEARS!” he muttered hoarsely, pressing his hands into his aching brows, while his eyes again fixed themselves yearningly on the Cross.. “Five thousand years before…. before WHAT?”
He caught the old man’s arm, and in sp
ite of himself, a laugh, wild, discordant, and out of all keeping with his inward emotions, broke from his parched lips,— “Thou doting fool!” he cried almost furiously,— “Why dost thou mock me then with this false image of a hope unrealized? … Who gave thee leave to add more fuel to my flame of torment? … What means this symbol to thine eyes? Speak.. speak! What admonition does it hold for thee? … what promise? … what menace? … what warning? … what love? … Speak.. speak! O, shall I force confession from thy throat, or must I die unsatisfied and slain by speechless longing! What didst thou say? … FIVE THOUSAND YEARS? … Nay, by the gods, thou liest!” — and he pointed excitedly to the sacred Emblem,— “I tell thee that Holy Sign is as familiar to my suffering soul as the chiming of bells at sunset! … as well known to my sight as the unfolding of flowers in the fields of spring! … What shall be done or said of it, in five thousand years, that has not already been said and done?”
Zuriel regarded him more compassionately than ever, with a penetrating, mournful expression in his serious dark eyes.
“Alas, alas, my son! thou art most grievously distraught!” he said in troubled tones. “Thy words but prove the dark disorder of thy wits, — may Heaven soon heal thee of thy mental wound! Restrain thy wild and wandering fancies? … for surely thou canst not be familiar, as thou sayest with this silver Symbol, seeing that it is but the Talisman [Footnote: The Cross was held in singular veneration in the Temple of Serapis, and by many tribes in the East, ages before the coming of Christ] or Badge of the Mystic Brethren of Al-Kyris, and has no signification whatsoever save for the Elect. It was designed some twenty years ago by the inspired Chief of our Order, Khosrul, and such as are still his faithful disciples wear it as a record and constant reminder of his famous Prophecy.”
Theos heard, and a dull apathy stole over him, — his recent excitement died out under a chilling weight of vague yet bitter disappointment.
“And this Prophecy?” he asked listlessly.. “What is its nature and whom doth it concern?”
“Nay, in very truth it is a strange and marvellous thing!” replied
Zuriel, his calm voice thrilling with a mellow touch of fervor..
“Khosrul, ’tis said, has heard the angels whispering in Heaven, and his
attentive ears have caught the echo of their distant speech.
“Thus spiritually instructed, he doth powerfully predict Salvation for the human race, — and doth announce, that in five thousand years or more, a God shall be moved by wondrous mercy to descend from Heaven, and take the form of Man, wherein, unknown, despised, rejected, he will live our life from commencement to finish, teaching, praying, and sanctifying by His Divine Presence the whole sin-burdened Earth. This done, He will consent to suffer a most cruel death, . . and the manner of His death will be that He shall hang, nailed hands and feet to a Cross, as though He were a common criminal, . . His holy brows shall be bound about with thorns, — and after hours of agony He, innocent of every sin, shall perish miserably — friendless, unpitied, and alone. But afterward, … and mark you! this is the chiefest glory of all! … He will rise again triumphant from the grave to prove his God-head, and to convince Mankind beyond all doubt an question, that there is indeed an immortal Hereafter, — an actual, free Eternity of Life, compared with which this our transient existence is a mere brief breathing-space of pause and probation, . . and then for evermore His sacred Name shall dominate and civilize the world…”
“What Name?”.. interrupted Theos, with eager abruptness … “Canst thou pronounce it?”
Zuriel shook his head.
“Not I, my son” — he answered gravely.. “Not even Khosrul can penetrate thus far! The Name of Him who is to come, is hidden deep among God’s unfathomed silences! It should suffice thee that thou knowest now the sum and substance of the Prophecy. Would I might live to see the days when all shall be fulfilled! … but alas, my remaining years are few upon the earth, and Heaven’s time is not ours!”
He sighed, — and resumed his slow pacing onwards, — Theos walked beside him as a man may walk in sleep, uncertainly and with unseeing eyes, his heart beating loudly, and a sick sense of suffocation in his throat. What did it all mean? … Had his life gone back in some strange way? … or had he merely DREAMED of a former existence different to this one? He remembered now what Sah-luma had told him respecting Khosrul’s “new” theory of a future religion, — a theory that to him had seemed so old, so old! — so utterly exhausted and worn threadbare! In what a cruel problem was he hopelessly involved! — what a useless, perplexed, confused being he had become! … he who would once to have staked his life on the unflinching strength and capabilities of human reason! After a pause, . .
“Forgive me!” he said in a low tone, and speaking with some effort.. “forgive me and have patience with my laggard comprehension, . . I am perplexed at heart and slow of thought; wilt thou assure me faithfully, that this God-Man thou speakest of is not yet born on earth?”
The faintest shadow of a wondering smile flickered over the old man’s wrinkled countenance, like the reflection of a passing taper-flame on a faded picture.
“My son, my son!” he murmured with compassionate tolerance— “Have I not told thee that five thousand years and more must pass away ere the prediction be accomplished? … I marvel that so plain a truth should thus disquiet thee! Now, by my soul, thou lookest pallid as the dead! … Come, let us hasten on more rapidly, — thy fainting spirits will revive in fresher air.”
He hurried his pace as he spoke, and glided along with such a curious, stealthy noiselessness that by and by Theos began dubiously to wonder whether after all he were a real personage or a phantom? He noticed that his own figure seemed to possess much more substantiality and distinctness of outline than that of this mysterious Zuriel, whose very garments resembled floating cloud rather than actual, woven fabric. Was his companion then a fitting Spectre? …
He smiled at the absurdity of the idea, and to change the drift of his own foolish fancies he asked suddenly,— “Concerning this wondrous city of Al-Kyris…is it of very ancient days, and long lineage?”
“The annals of its recorded history reach over a period of twelve thousand years” — replied Zuriel, . . “But ’tis the present fashion to count from the Deification of Nagaya or the Snake, — and, according to this, we are now in the nine hundred and eighty-ninth year of so-called Grace and Knowledge, — rather say Dishonor and Crime! … for a crueler, more bloodthirsty creed than the worship of Nagaya never debased a people! Who shall number up the innocent victims that have been sacrificed in the great Temple of the Sacred Python! — and even on this very day which has just dawned, another holocaust is to be offered on the Veiled Shrine, — or so it hath been publicly proclaimed throughout the city, — and the crowd will flock to see a virgin’s blood spilt on the accursed altars where Lysia, in all the potency of triumphant wickedness, presides. But if the auguries of the stars prevail, ‘twill be for the last time!” Here he paused and looked fixedly at Theos. “Thou dost return straightway to Sah-luma … is it not so?”
Theos bent his head in assent.
“Art thou true friend, or mere flatterer to that spoilt child of fair fame and fortune?”
“Friend!” — cried Theos with eager enthusiasm, … “I would give my life to save his!”
“Aye, verily? … is it so?” … and Zuriel’s melancholy eyes dwelt upon him with a strange and sombre wistfulness, … “Then, as thou art a man, persuade him out of evil into good! … rouse him to noble shame and nobler penitence for all those faults which mar his poet-genus and deprive it of immortal worth! … urge him to depart from Al-Kyris while there is yet time ere the bolt of destruction falls! … and, … mark you well this final warning! … bid him to-day avoid the Temple, and beware the King!” —
As he said this he stopped and extinguished the lamp he carried. There was no longer any need of it, for a broad patch of gray light fell through an aperture in the wall, showing a few rough, broken step
s that led upwards, — and pointing to these he bade the bewildered Theos a kindly farewell.
“Thou wilt find Sah-luma’s palace easily,” — he said— “Not a child in the streets but knows the way thither. Guard thy friend and be thyself also on guard against coming disaster, — and if thou art not yet resolved to die, escape from the city ere to-night’s sun-setting. Soothe thy distempered fancies with thoughts of God, and cease not to pray for thy soul’s salvation! Peace be with thee!” —
He raised his hands with an expressive gesture of benediction, and turning round abruptly disappeared. Where had he gone? … how had he vanished? … It was impossible to tell! … he seemed to have melted away like a mist into utter nothingness! Profoundly perplexed, Theos ascended the steps before him, his mind anxiously revolving all the strange adventures of the night, while a dim sense of some unspeakable, coming calamity brooded darkly upon him.
The solemn admonitions he had just heard affected him deeply, for the reason that they appeared to apply so specially to Sah-luma, — and the idea that any evil fate was in store for the bright, beautiful creature, whom he had, oddly enough, learned to love more than himself, moved him to an almost womanish apprehension. In case of pressing necessity, could he exercise any authority over the capricious movements of the wilful Laureate, whose egotism was so absolute, whose imperious ways were so charming, whose commands were never questioned?
He doubted it! … for Sah-luma was accustomed to follow the lead of his own immediate pleasure, in reckless scorn of consequences, — and it was not likely he would listen to the persuasions or exhortations, however friendly, of any one presuming to run counter to his wishes.
Again and again Theos asked himself— “If Sah-luma of his own accord, and despite all warning, deliberately rushed into deadly peril, could I, even loving him as I do, rescue him?” — And as he pondered on this, a strange answer shaped itself unbidden in his brain — an answer that seemed as though it were spoken aloud by some interior voice.. “No, — no! — ten thousand times no! You could not save him any more than you could save yourself from the results of your own misdoing! If you voluntarily choose evil, not all the forces in the world can lift you into good, — if you voluntarily choose danger, not all the gods can bring you into safety! FREE WILL is the divine condition attached to human life, and each man by thought, word, and deed, determines his own fate, and decides his own future!”
Delphi Collected Works of Marie Corelli (Illustrated) (Delphi Series Eight Book 22) Page 166