Kenton snapped out the electrics and stood waiting.
Minute after minute crept by. Fugitive gleams from the lights on the Avenue penetrated the curtains of the windows, glimmered on the ship. Muted but steady came the roar of the traffic, punctuated by horn blasts, explosions through mufflers—New York’s familiar voice.
Was that a halo growing round the ship… And what had become of the traffic’s roar.
The room was filling with silence as a vessel is filled with water…
Now a sound broke that silence; a sound like the lapping of little waves, languorous, caressing. The sounds stroked his lids, slumbrously; pressed them down. By enormous effort he half raised them.
A wide mist was opposite him, a globular silvery mist floating down upon him. Within that mist drifted a ship, its oars motionless, its sail half-filled. Wavelets crisped at its sickled bow, wavelets of pale turquoise with laced edges of foam.
Half the room was lost in the ripples of that approaching sea…the part on which he stood was many feet above the waves…so far below were they that the deck of the ship was level with his feet.
Closer drew the ship. He wondered why he heard no rushing winds, no clamoring tempests; no sound save the faint whispering of the foam-tipped waves.
Retreating, he felt his back press against the farther wall. Before him drifted that misty world, the ship upon its breast.
Kenton leaped, straight for the deck.
The winds roared about him now; vast winds howled and shrieked—again he heard but felt them not at all. And suddenly the clamor died.
Kenton’s feet struck solid surface.
He stood upon an ivory deck, facing a rosy cabin whose little blossoming trees were filled with cooing crimson billed, vermilion footed, doves. Between him and the cabin’s door was a girl, her soft brown eyes filled with wonder and that same startled disbelief he had seen in those of Sharane when first her gaze had fallen upon him at the foot of the emerald mast.
“Are you Lord Nabu’ that you came thus out of the air and in his cloak of wisdom, his serpents twining within it?” she whispered. “Nay that cannot be—for Nabu is very old—and you are young. Are you his messenger?”
She dropped to her knees; crossed her hands, palms outward, over her forehead. She leaped to her feet; ran to the closed door of the cabin.
“Kadishtu!” she struck it with clenched hands. “Holy One—a messenger from Nabu!”
The door of the cabin was flung open. Upon its threshold stood the woman called Sharane. Her glance swept him; then darted to the black deck. He followed it. The beater of the serpent drum squatted there; he seemed to sleep.
“Watch, Satalu!” breathed Sharane to the girl.
She caught Kenton’s hand; she drew him through the door. Two girls were there who stared at him. She thrust them forward.
“Out!” she whispered. “Out and watch with Satalu.”
They slipped from the cabin. She ran to an inner door; dropped a bar across it.
She turned, back against it; then stepped slowly to Kenton. She stretched out slim fingers; with them touched his eyes, his mouth, his heart—as though to assure herself that he was real.
She cupped his hands in hers, and bowed, and set her brows against his wrists; the waves of her hair bathed them. At her touch desire ran through him, swift and flaming. Her hair was a silken net to which his heart flew, eager to be trapped.
He steadied himself; he drew his hands from hers; he braced himself against her lure.
She lifted her head; regarded him.
“What has the Lord Nabu to say to me?” her voice rocked Kenton with perilous sweetnesses, subtle provocations. “What is his word to me, messenger? Surely will I listen—for in his wisdom has not the Lord of Wisdom sent one to whom to listen ought not be—difficult?”
There was a flash of coquetry like the flirt of a roguish fan in the misty eyes turned for an instant to his.
Thrilling to her closeness, groping for some firm ground, Kenton sought for words to answer her. Playing for time, he looked about the cabined space. There was an altar at the far end. It was sown with luminous gems, with pearls and pale moonstones and curdled, milky crystals. From seven crystal basins set before it arose still silvery flames. There was an alcove behind the altar, but the glow of the seven lights hid whatever was within. He had a swift sense of tenancy of that flame veiled alcove—something dwelt there.
At the far side was a low, wide divan of ivory inlaid with the milky crystals and patterned with golden arabesques. Silken tapestries fell from the walls, multicolored, flower woven. Soft deep silken rugs covered the cabin’s floor, and piles of cushions. At back, at left, two wide low windows opened; through them streamed silver light.
A bird flew upon the sill of one; a snowy bird with scarlet beak and feet; it scanned him, it preened itself, it cooed and flew away—
Soft hands touched him; Sharane’s face was close, eyes now with doubt more deeply shadowed.
“You—do come from Nabu?” she asked, and waited for reply; and still he found no words to answer her. “Messenger you must be,” she faltered, “else—how could you board the Ship of Ishtar?… And you are clad in Nabu’s cloak…and wear his sword…many times have I seen them in his shrine at Uruk…and I am weary of the Ship,” she whispered. “I would see Babylon again! Ah dearly, do I long for Babylon.”
Now words came to Kenton.
“Sharane,” he said boldly. “I do bear a message for you. It is the truth, and our Lord Nabu is Lord of Truth—therefore it must be from him. But before I give it to you, tell me—what is this ship?”
“What is the Ship!” she drew back from him, doubt enough now in her face—“But if you come indeed from Nabu—you must know that!”
“I do not know,” he told her, “I do not even know the meaning of the message I carry—it is for you to interpret. Yet here am I, upon the ship, before you. And in my ears I hear command—whispered it may be by Nabu himself—that I must not speak until you have told me—what is this ship.”
For a long moment she stood, scanning him, studying him.
“The ways of the gods are strange,” she sighed at last. “They are hard to understand. Yet—I obey.”
PART II
The Sin of Zarpanit
CHAPTER 4
She slipped down upon the divan and beckoned him beside her. She laid a hand lightly upon his heart. His heart leaped beneath the touch; she felt it, too, and moved a little from him, smiling, watching him through downcast, curving lashes. She drew her slender, sandaled feet beneath her; mused with white hands clasped between rounded knees. When she spoke her voice was low, words half intoned.
“The sin of Zarpanit; the tale of her sin against Ishtar; Ishtar the Mighty Goddess; Mother of the Gods and of men; Lady of the Heavens and of Earth—who loved her!”
“High Priestess of Ishtar at her Great House in Uruk was Zarpanit. Kadishtu, Holy One, was she. And I, Sharane, who come from Babylon, was closest to her; her priestess; loved by her even as she was loved by Ishtar. Through Zarpanit the Goddess counseled and warned, rewarded and punished. Kings and men. Into the body of Zarpanit the Goddess came as to a shrine, seeing through her eyes, speaking with her lips.
“Now the temple in which we dwelt was named the House of the Seven Zones. In it was the sanctuary of Sin, God of Gods, who lives in the Moon; of Shamash his son; whose home is the Sun, of Nabu, the Lord of Wisdom; of Ninib, the Lord of War; of Nergal, the Dark Hornless one, Ruler of the Dead; and of Bel-Merodach, the Mighty Lord. Yet most of all was it the House of Ishtar, who dwelt there of his own right—temple themselves within her holy home.
“From Cuthaw in the north, from the temple there which Dark Nergal ruled as Ishtar ruled at Uruk, came a priest to sit over the Zone of Nergal in the House of the Seven Zones. His name was Alusar—and close as was Zarpanit to Ishtar as close was he to the Lord of the Dead. Nergal made himself manifest through Alusar, spoke through him and dwelt at times within him even
as did Ishtar within her Priestess Zarpanit. With Alusar came retinue of priests, and among them that spawn of Nergal’s slime—Klaneth. And Klaneth was close to Alusar as I to Zarpanit.”
She raised her head and looked at Kenton through, narrowed lids.
“I know you now,” she cried. “A while ago you lay upon the ship and watched my strife with Klaneth! Now I know you—although then you had no cloak nor sword; and vanished as I looked upon you!”
Kenton smiled at her.
“You lay with frightened face,” she said. “And stared at me with fearful eyes—and fled!”
She half arose; he saw suspicion sweep her anew; the scorn in her voice lashed him into quick, hot rage. He drew her down beside him.
“I was that man,” he said. “Nor was it fault of mine that then I went away—I who have returned as quickly as I could? And your own eyes lied to you. Nor ever think again that mine hold fear of you! Look into them!” he bade her, fiercely.
She looked—long; sighed and bent away, sighed again and swayed toward him, languorously. His arms gripped her.
“Enough,” she thrust him away. “I read no hasty script in new eyes. Yet I retract—you were not fearful. You did not flee! And when you speak I shall no doubt understand. Let be!
“Between Ishtar and Nergal,” she took up the interrupted tale, “is and ever must be unending hatred and strife. For Ishtar is Bestower of Life and Nergal is Taker of Life; she is the Lover of Good and he is the Lover of Evil. And how shall ever Heaven and Hell be linked; or life and death; or good and evil?
“Yet she, Zarpanit, Kadishtu, the Holy One of Ishtar, her best beloved, did link all these. For where she should have turned away—she looked with desire; and where she should have hated—she loved!
“Yea—the Priestess of the Lady of Life loved Alusar the Priest of the Lord of Death! Her love was a strong flame by whose light she could see only him—and him only. Had Zarpanit been Ishtar she would have gone to the Dwelling Place of the Lost for Alusar, even as did the Goddess for her lover Tammuz—to draw him forth or to dwell there with him.
“Yea—even to dwell with him there in the cold darkness where the dead creep feebly, calling with the weak voices of birds. In the cold of Nergal’s domain, in the famine of Nergal’s abode, in the blackness of his city where the deepest shade of earth would be a ray of sunlight, Zarpanit would have been happy—knowing that she was with Alusar.
“So greatly did she love!
“I helped her in her love—for love of her,” she whispered. “But Klaneth crept ever behind Alusar waiting for chance to betray him and to take his place. Yet Alusar trusted him. There came a night—”
She paused, her face drawn with memoried terror.
“There came…a night when Alusar lay with Zarpanit…within her chamber. His arms were about her…hers around his neck…their lips together…
“And that night down came Ishtar from her Heavens and entered and possessed her!…
“While at the same instant from his dark city came Nergal…and passed into Alusar…
“And in each others arms, looking into each other’s eyes, caught in the fire of mortal love…were…Ishtar and Nergal…Heaven and Hell…the Soul of Life mated to the Soul of Death!”
She quivered and wept and long minutes went slowly by before again she spoke.
“Straightway those two who clasped were torn from each other. We were buffeted as by hurricanes, blinded by lightnings; scourged and thrown broken to the walls. And when we knew consciousness the priests and priestesses of all the Seven Zones had us. All the sin was known!
“Yea, even though Ishtar and Nergal had not…met…that night still would the sinning of Zarpanit and Alusar have been known. For Klaneth, whom we had thought on guard, had betrayed them and brought down upon them the pack!
“Let Klaneth be cursed!” Sharane raised arms high, and the pulse of her hate beat upon Kenton like a hammer of flame. “Let Klaneth crawl blind and undying in the cold blackness of Nergal’s abode! But Goddess Ishtar! Wrathful Ishtar! Give him to me first that I may send him there as I would have him go!”
CHAPTER 5
How The Gods Judged
“For a time,” she said, “we lay in darkness, Zarpanit and I together—and Alusar we knew not where. Great had been the sin of those two, and in it I had shared. Not quickly was our punishment to be decided. I comforted her as best I might, loving her, caring naught for myself—for her heart was close to breaking, knowing not what they did with him she loved.
“There fell another night when the priests came to us. They drew us from our cell and bore us in silence to the portal of the Du-azzaga, the Brilliant Chamber, the Council Room of the Gods. There stood other priests with Alusar. They opened the portal, fearfully, and thrust us three within.
“Now in truth my spirit shrank and was afraid, and beside mine I felt the shuddering soul of Zarpanit.
“For the Du-azzaga was filled with light, and in the places of the Gods sat not their images but the Gods themselves! Hidden each behind a sparkling cloud the Gods looked at us. In the place of Nergal was a fiery darkness.
“Out of the shining azure mist before the Shrine of Nabu came the voice of the Lord of Wisdom.
“‘So great is your sin, woman,’ it said, ‘and yours, priest, that it has troubled even us the Gods! Now what have you to say before we punish?’
“The voice of Nabu was cold and passionless as the light of far flung stars—yet in it was understanding.
“And suddenly my love for Zarpanit swelled, and I held fast to it and it gave me strength; while beside me I felt her soul stand erect, defiant, her love flinging itself before her as a shield. She did not answer—only held out her arms to Alusar. His love stood forth unafraid even as hers. He clasped her.
“Their lips met—and the judging Gods were forgotten!
“Then Nabu spoke again:
“‘These two bear a flame that none but Ishtar can quench—and it may be not even she!’
“At this Zarpanit drew from her lover’s arms; came close to the glory in which hid Ishtar; did homage and addressed her:
“‘Yea, O Mother, are you not the mother of that fire we call love? Did you not create it and set it as a torch above Chaos? And having made it, did you not know how mighty was the thing you made? It was that love of which you are the mother, O Holy Ishtar, that came uncalled into this temple of my body which was yours, and still is yours though you have abandoned it. Is it my fault that so strong was love that it broke the doors of your temple, or my fault that its light blinded me to all save him on whom it shone? You are the creator of love, O Ishtar; and if you did not mean it to conquer then why made you it so mighty? Or if love be grown stronger than you who made it can we—a man and woman—be blamed that we could not overcome it? And if love be not stronger than you, still did you make it stronger than man. Therefore punish love, your child, O Ishtar—not us!’
“It was the Lord Nabu who broke the silence of the Gods:
“‘Truth is in what she says. The flame they bear is one whose ways you know, O Ishtar, far better than do we. Therefore it is for you to answer her.’
“‘From the glory veiling the Goddess a voice came, sweet but small with bitter anger:
“‘There is truth in what you say Zarpanit, whom once I called daughter. Now because of that truth I will temper my anger. You have asked me whether love is stronger than I who created it. We shall learn! You and your lover shall dwell in a certain place that shall be opened to you. Ever together shall you be. You may look upon each other, your eyes may meet—but never lips nor hands! You may speak to each other—but never of this flame called love! For when it leaps and draws you together then I, Ishtar, will enter you, Zarpanit, and give it battle! Nor shall it be the Ishtar you have known. Nay, that Sister-Self of mine whom men name the Wrathful, the Destroyer—she shall possess you. And so it shall be until the flame within you conquers her, or that flame perishes!’
“The voice of Ishta
r was still. The gods sat, silent. Then out of the fiery blackness of Nergal’s shrine bellowed the voice of the Lord of Death!
“‘So say you, Ishtar! Then I, Nergal, tell you this—I stand with this man who is my priest! Nor am I much displeased with him, since it was by him that I looked so closely into your eyes, O Mother of Life!’—the Blackness shook with laughter—‘I shall be with him, and I will meet you, Ishtar the Destroyer! Yea, with craft to match yours and strength to grapple with you—until I, not you, have blown out that flame. For in my abode is no such fire—and I would quench it in them that my darkness be not affrighted when at last these two come to me!’
“And again the laughter shook the ebon cloud, while the glory that covered the Goddess quivered with her wrath.
“But the three of us listened with despair—for ill as it had gone with us, far worse was it to hear this jesting of the Dark Hornless One with the Mother of the Heavens.
“Came Ishtar’s voice, smaller still:
“‘Be it so, O Nergal!’
“There was silence for a little time among the other gods; and I thought that behind their veils they looked at each other askance. Came at last the passionless voice of Nabu:
“‘What of this other woman—?
“The voice of Ishtar, impatient:
“‘Let her fate be bound with Zarpanit’s. Let Zarpanit have her retinue in that place to which she goes.’
“Then Nabu again:
“‘The priest Klaneth—is he to go free?’
“‘What! Shall not my Alusar have his retinue as well?’ mocked Nergal. ‘Nay, set Klaneth and others beside him to minister to him.’
“‘Again I thought that the Gods looked at each other askance; then Nabu asked:
“‘Shall it be so, O Ishtar?’
“And Ishtar answered:
“‘Let it be so!’
The A. Merritt Megapack Page 63