"I like him, Father. And I am glad to know Papagena is safe." She felt troubled to realize that without knowing it, she had been afraid her mother would visit her wrath on Papagena because she, Pamina, had been taken when Papagena was with her.
Then she felt disloyal again. Was she accepting Sarastro's evaluation of her mother? She looked away from him, picking up a handful of sweet dates and eating them quickly.
He gestured to a priest who had remained at the end of the room, out of earshot of their conversation. Raising his voice, he said, "Bring Prince Tamino to me, and Monostatos as well."
Pamina finished her dates, dipped her hands delicately in a basin of water and at once a dog-halfling who reminded her a little of Rawa was there, offering her a small perfumed towel. She had not thought much of Rawa in years, and now she knew, with a sudden wave of dismay, why she had been afraid for Papagena. Afraid, and suddenly very much ashamed of herself, she realized that what she felt was relief, because Sar-astro had refused to send her back to her mother.
She had been afraid for Papagena. But what she was really afraid of, she now knew, was her mother, and what her mother would say to her.
After a moment, a great assembly of priests, servants, Halflings, and others entered the chamber. Ceremoniously, Sarastro gave her his hand and escorted her to a chair somewhat lower than his own. Then he raised his hand, and Monostatos rushed forward.
"My lord," he cried. "In your service I found this intruder in the precincts of your temple!" He gestured to the servants to drag Tamino forward. Sarastro shook his head and they released Tamino; he motioned Mon-ostatos toward him.
"Be assured," he said, "you shall be rewarded as you deserve."
Monostatos grabbed his hand, kneeling and covering it with kisses. "My lord, you overwhelm me, I am not worthy—"
"You have well deserved this reward," said Sarastro sternly, snatching his hand away, and said to the priests, "Take him away and give him a sound beating!"
"My lord!" Monostatos cried in indignation as they laid hands on him. "You promised to me that I might undertake the Ordeals!"
"Why, so you have, and failed the first of them, which disqualified you for the rest," Sarastro said harshly. Pamina had not realized that the gentle voice could thunder with such wrath. "I trusted you, Monostatos, with my daughter Pamina, and you failed the test."
"Lord Sarastro, I protest! She tried to escape, and look, she is here, safe again in custody; I have not failed you!"
"But you have," Sarastro said. "For that was the first of the Ordeals; and when you laid hands on her, and lied to her, you betrayed the trust I had reposed in you. Take him away," he added sternly, and Monostatos struggled fiercely, howling curses, as the priests dragged him out of the room.
Sarastro motioned to Tamino to approach his chair. He said, "Is it still your desire to undertake the Ordeals, my young friend?"
Tamino could not keep his eyes from Pamina. He said, "For this purpose I undertook the journey from my homeland, sir." He looked at Pamina, seated beside Sarastro and evidently quite content to be there; she smiled at him.
"Then, if that is your will," Sarastro said, "let it be so." He smiled, and Tamino felt the smile warming him with kindliness.
"Take him away," he said to the priests, "and let him be prepared to enter the Ordeals, and tested as our laws decree."
His eyes were still on Pamina; he held out his hands to her. As if in a dream, she rose from her chair and approached him; but Sarastro shook his head, and the priests took Tamino by the shoulders; not roughly, as they had done with the struggling Monostatos, but with firm purpose.
"Not yet," he said, with surprising gentleness. "You are not yet worthy of one another. Take him away."
Tamino bowed, and went with the priests without resisting. Sarastro held out his hand to Pamina.
"Don't be afraid," he said, "they will not hurt him, I promise you, my child. I have confidence in him. And now—" he gestured to a tall, sweet-faced woman in the robes of a priestess—"you, too, are to be tested, Pamina. But first, if you wish, you may see Papagena and reassure yourself that all is well with your faithful servant." He kissed her gently on the forehead.
"I will see you again at the proper time, my child. Take courage; I have confidence in you, too. I see already that you are brave and truthful; call upon your mother's strengths and not her weaknesses, and you will succeed in your testing. For now, daughter, go and be prepared for what will come. There is nothing to fear, and nothing will be demanded of you except that you be your own best self, I promise you that."
He bowed to her, with a curious ceremoniousness, and went away between attendant priests. Pamina stood staring after him, still not sure what was going to happen, until the tall priestess touched her on the shoulder. "Princess Pamina, come with me," she said gently, and Pamina, still staring at the place where Tamino had disappeared, let them lead her away.
CHAPTER TEN
He stood in the darkness, a blindfold fastened over his eyes; though it seemed to him that even if the blindfold was removed, it would be dark, for through the folds he could make out only darkness.
His hands were tied behind his back with a soft cord that did not chafe his wrists. In spite of the strangeness, he was not afraid.
When he had been taken away between the two priests, and Sarastro had spoken of testing, he had been a little frightened. Sarastro seemed kind and well spoken, but he did not know what to expect; anything might be a part of the Ordeals. Yet he had been reassured by Sarastro's unsparing treatment of Monos-tatos; whatever his preconceptions about Sarastro, the priest-king had been just. And Pamina trusted him. So he was prepared to suspend judgment about Sarastro. It seemed Pamina was in no immediate need of being rescued, after all. He might as well go on with the Ordeals, which were, after all, what he had come here for. Perhaps a day would come when he would know all the truth, even all the truth about the Queen of the Night. There would be time enough for that.
Sarastro had told them to take him away for testing, and he had not had the slightest idea what to expect.
He was led first to a building which was, the priest told him, the dwelling place of the younger priests. His clothing—the luxurious finery given him by the Queen of the Night, which had been cut and torn in his struggle with Monostatos's men—as taken from him, and after he was given a chance to bathe in a pool of cold water, he was given a plain white robe like the robe worn by the younger priests.
Soon they brought him a meal—flat cakes of bread, butter, and ajar of honey, boiled eggs, some fruits and a jug of cool milk. He supposed this was priestly fare. It was, despite its simplicity, all very good and plentiful. When the old priest came back to take away the tray, he also took away the flute. Tamino began to protest, but the old priest smiled kindly at him.
"You do not need this here," he said, "and although the one who gave it to you had no right to bestow it, for it was not hers to give, let me assure you that if you prove worthy to bear it, it will be returned to you at the proper time." He added, "Wait here, Prince Tamino, and meditate until moonrise, when you will be sent for."
Left alone, Tamino had tried to meditate, but Pam-ina's eyes, the memory of how she had watched him when they took him away, kept coming between him and his own thoughts. In the end, he actually dozed off, and only woke when the darkness fell in his cell. At moonrise two priests had come, and without speaking to him, they had blindfolded him and bound his hands. But before they touched him, he had seen that one of the priest was the old man who had first welcomed him in the Temple of Truth; so he simply assumed that this strange and inhospitable procedure was some part of the introduction to the Ordeals.
He stood in the dark, and all round him he heard soft sounds, the rustle of robes, muted shuffling of feet, a man's cough in his darkness. Hands tugged at him and led him forward; he was pushed to his knees.
Then through the bandages over his eyes he saw a glow of light, and Sarastro's voice, deep and strong like
some great organ, spoke his name.
“Tamino," Sarastro said. "Is it still your desire to undertake the Ordeals and achieve your own enlightenment and wisdom?"
"It is for that purpose I came into this country," Tamino said, "and I am still resolved that I will do so."
"I know you have courage," Sarastro said, "even though it is, as yet, untempered with wisdom. Tell me, Tamino, are you able to put aside prejudice and examine all things before judging?"
"I will try," said Tamino.
Sarastro said in the dark, "Brothers, any of you has the privilege of interrogating him, if you choose. If you would prove or test his fitness before he is admitted to the Ordeals, speak now or forever after keep silence."
A voice said, "Prince Tamino, you are of royal birth. Tell me, what does it mean to you to be a prince?"
Tamino answered what his father had told him, once, when he asked that same question.
"More has been given to me," he said, "and therefore more is demanded. I must set every one of my father's subjects an example of what a man should be, and never demand of any man what I am not willing to exact of myself."
Yet another voice, this one rough and deep, said, "Prince Tamino, you are a prince of the Empire of the West. Can you greet as a brother, whatever his birth, any man who has passed the Ordeals and is sworn to Brotherhood in our Temple? For within our Order, the only distinctions of rank are not of birth, but of merit and virtue alone."
Tamino did not answer at once. Finally, he said, "If i good reason is given me why I should do this, I will."
Silence. At last Sarastro asked, "Are there any further questions?" Further silence. Finally, Sarastro said, "If nothing further is demanded of him, let us proceed. Which of you will guide him?"
"I will." It was the voice of the old priest who had welcomed Tamino into the Temple of Truth. "I will consider it my privilege to guide him toward the Light."
Sarastro asked, "Tamino, will you accept his guidance, and obey him through the testing?"
"If he doesn't ask me any more riddles," Tamino said, and there was a little ripple of masculine laughter that echoed in the spaces of the great hall. Sarastro himself sounded as if he was trying to keep back a chuckle unsuitable to this solemn interrogation.
"Will you obey him without question?" he asked.
Tamino stopped to think that over. At last he said, "I'm not sure. That sounds like a trick question. Suppose he should ask me to do something I know is wrong?"
"Wrong by whose judgment?" asked Sarastro. "I understand that you told our brother that you understood the difference between right and wrong. How will you judge whether what he asks of you is wrong?"
Tamino bit his lip. He said, "I'm not—not trying to set myself up as a judge. But how do I know he won't ask me to do something wrong to test me, so that if I obey him I'm doing something wrong, and if I don't, I have broken my promise to obey?"
To his surprise there was a murmur of approbation. Sarastro said, "Good. Let me ask that question again; will you obey him, provided he does not ask you to do anything which is against your conscience? And if you are not sure one way or the other will you listen to his counsel and judgment before you act?"
"Oh, yes," said Tamino, relieved, "I'll promise that, of course."
"Then, Tamino," said Sarastro in his deep voice, "I accept you as a candidate for trial in our Order. Surround him, now, my brothers, and let us pray that he will find courage and strength for the Ordeals which he now must face."
In the darkness Tamino heard the rustle of robes round him again. He felt hands take his—he could not tell whose hands. Another pair of hands touched his forehead in blessing. Then hands were touching him, laid on him as if to heal or bless. He was surrounded, touched everywhere with this laying-on of hands. Then, in the darkness, there was a sound of voices. Sarastro's voice, a strong and resonant bass, led the voices in a mighty, blended harmony of sound.
This was the hymn:
You Gods of Light, you awesome powers, One stands before your doors today; Be with him now, through these dark hours, Help him to tread the Pilgrim's way. Guide him, on paths of Truth progressing, Help him to find true Wisdom's blessing; Grant that he seek not Power, but Right, And find the great eternal Light; Guide him to Truth's eternal Light.
When the hymn had ended, there was a moment of silence. Then Sarastro said softly, "Go forth on your way, Tamino; and may your own courage and wisdom serve you well. You come before us blindfolded and bound, in token that you are still walking in the darkness of the world's ways and know nothing of the greater Light; you are bound, not by external bonds, but by your own ignorance. Yet you have signified a desire for true freedom. Therefore, let him be loosed from the bonds of ignorance."
The cords tying Tamino's hands fell away.
"Take him away," Sarastro said. "Let him be tried."
The blindfold was removed abruptly from Tamino's eyes. It was very dark; but Tamino could tell, from the echoes round him, that he was in a high vaulted chamber, and beneath his feet was stone. Soft echoes were all round him. There were no lights in the room; nevertheless, as his eyes accustomed themselves to the darkness Tamino could see Papageno, blindfolded like himself, in the custody of a strange priest.
The priest ceremoniously removed the blindfold from Papageno and said, "Let your eyes be freed for the Light of Wisdom."
"Light? What light?" grumbled Papageno. "I can't see a thing."
"The Light will come when you are worthy of it," intoned the priest. "Your first test is silence and obedience."
"I'll be sitting in the dark forever, then," Papageno said sullenly.
Tamino's guide touched him lightly on the shoulder.
"Remain here until you are sent for, Tamino, and meditate on the mortal end of mankind."
Tamino started to return a polite acquiescence, then remembered that Papageno had just been admonished to be silent, and an answer might be interpreted as disobedience. He contented himself with a courteous bow.
There was a faint flicker of light as the door opened; in that pallid gleam they could see the robes sweeping behind the forms of the priests as they went out.
Tamino heard a discontented chirping sound from Papageno. The little bird-man hunkered down on the floor, his skinny arms wrapped round his knees.
"Tamino, why are we sitting here in the dark?"
He had been told to be silent. Nevertheless the Half-ling sounded frightened, and Papageno was his responsibility; he had brought the little bird-man here.
"Because we were told to," he replied gently, "and even I, a prince, must obey."
A sudden flare of lightning blinked through high windows; Papageno flinched. The lightning was followed by a crash of thunder, and the Halfling cried out with fear, crowding close to Tamino in the dark.
"Hush, Papageno, it's only thunder; aren't you ashamed to behave so like a coward?"
"I'm not a prince. I don't have to be brave!" Papageno sat shivering, his arms wrapped about his body, trembling at every flash of lightning as the storm rose to its height.
Tamino went to one of the windows and looked out into the night. This was the mysterious realm of the Starqueen, and he had come here at her bequest. But everything seemed to have reversed itself. The wicked magician Sarastro seemed, after all, to be an honorable and benevolent man, and Pamina, the maiden in distress, seemed to be quite content and in no need whatever of being rescued. Moreover, Sarastro was actually in charge of the Ordeals. Tamino felt that all his certainties were being challenged.
By the intermittent flashes of lightning, he could make out that the room where they waited was an ancient crypt. Niches in the walls held sarcophagi, inscribed with runes in languages so antique that Tamino had never heard of them. Atop one pillar was a skull, inlaid with jewels which shone with a pallid luster; but in the colorless light Tamino could not even make out what kind of jewels they were. He had never known of any society or people which so treated their dead. Who had they been, these
strange long ago people, and what had become of them, that now Sarastro's folk held their rites in their burial chambers?
Whoever they once had been, now their names were known only to the dead. And one day, Tamino thought, my father's Empire and Sarastro's people, and all of us, will be no more than this. He supposed this was what the priest had meant when he told Tamino to meditate on man's mortality, and secretly he felt a little pleased with himself.
But Papageno shivered and fretted on the floor, staring around in terror, and Tamino fancied he could hear the Halfling's teeth chattering.
"What a horrible place this is! If they can't find a better place than this to keep the candidates for their Ordeals, it would serve them right if nobody came at all!"
"Hush, Papageno; you were told to be silent and meditate on mortality."
"No, it's you who were told to do that," Papageno said. "It's bad enough to have mortality without having to meditate on it. Anyhow, I wouldn't know how to meditate."
Tamino was hard put to keep from smiling. He said, "They meant, you were to think about it very, very seriously."
"Then why didn't they say so?" demanded the Half-ling.
Tamino gave up, and began to study the runes on the sarcophagi. The fitful lightning came and went. Papageno was still muttering in discontent, but Tamino ignored him. Time went by, crawling on noiseless feet. As his eyes accustomed themselves to the dark, he examined the momentoes of that dead civilization, feeling at last that he, and his father's Empire, and all the current races of men, were all very small against the grandeur of Time. Did it matter, would it ever matter to anyone if one small prince called Tamino, from an ephemeral Empire on a tiny speck of a world lost among the stars, lived or died? Whether he passed the Ordeals in triumph and married Pamina? Or whether he died here among the lost remnants of a people who had once lived and suffered and died and now were no more? Did any of it matter? Why was he here, after all, pitting himself against unknown Ordeals?
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