The Dreamer Of Dreams Part 9

As Eric sat down he saw that two covered objects lay upon the table. The hermit stretched out his trembling hand and drew the smaller of the two towards him, raising the dark cloth that covered it.

As he did so, a round ball, cut out of a stone the colour of smouldering ashes, became visible; it was resting on a small three-legged stand carved in old ivory.

"I shall now look into this magic ball to see thy future, dear wanderer.

Give me thy hand whilst I concentrate my mind upon the polished surface; thou must think with all thy might of that which is thy greatest desire, and thou must not speak or the charm will be broken."

Eric laid his hand confidently within the dry wrinkled palm, and remained silent, as he had been bid, his face near to that of the old man, his fair locks resting against the silvery ones.

With breathless intensity he watched the magic ball, and saw with wonder how it began to glow as if a fire were burning inside.

The curious light became always more intense till the ball was one burning flame upon which he could hardly keep his eyes.

He felt an unwonted drowsiness come over him, but with all his might he kept his mind fixed upon the eyes of his dream, and then out of the silence came the voice of his companion, inexplicably changed and musical, like far-off bells.

"I see a great picture on a wall--in the middle of which there sits a woman on a throne, the woman has no face.... I see eager questioning all around thee, but there are tears in thy eyes.... I see a long road on which thou art wandering mostly in the brilliant suns.h.i.+ne, but sometimes it is the moon that lights thy way. Thy tears have dried, but thou knowest not where thou goest and thou singest like a bird. Many other faces cross thy road and mostly they smile on thee....

"But somewhere there is a shadow that falls over thy path and thou art afraid--something there is that thou dost not understand and that contains sore temptations for thee ... then.... Yes, if I rightly see ... there is blood, it drips slowly to the ground, but thy own hands are without stain, yet thou art full of fear and fleest as quickly as thou canst.

"Then again there is suns.h.i.+ne, and round thee all is blue, the sky as well as the ground--then once more there are tears, warm and wet, but this time they are not thine.... And now thou wanderest where the air is rarer and thy breath comes in gasps--thou mountest ever higher and higher ... there comes a moment's rest and again thou art wandering, and always thy road is steeper and thy step more weary.... All around thee there are shapes that make thee afraid.

"And now I hear the voice of a child crying, crying ... again a shadow falls over thee ... this time like to the shadow of death."

The chanting voice paused and the grey head bent closer down upon the fiery ball; the pressure upon the young man's hand became an iron grip.

Drops of perspiration stood upon the wrinkled brow as if an enormous effort were being made. Then the voice spoke again:

"What I now see is a long road through a country of suns.h.i.+ne and riches--it is evening, sweet music rises in the air, a haze of dust lies over the horizon; then all I see, at the end, is a face of wonderful sweetness, yet sad and full of yearning--and I see two eyes ... strange and wonderful, and somehow thy heart is at peace.... That is all."

The voice had ceased; the grip upon the young man's hand had relaxed, a heavy silence lay over them.

The glow in the magic ball died down till only the smouldering colour remained. Then Eric spoke like one in a dream:

"Thou sawest the eyes! deep, grey, unblinking, sad, and yearning? So I shall reach them in the end! Canst thou not tell me whose they are?"

The old man's head had fallen on his breast as if overcome by fatigue; now he raised it very slowly and looked long and lovingly at the young eager face.

"Nay! that I cannot tell thee, but this I know: Happiness cometh not there where we seek it; it cometh like a breath out of the unknown, and then the heart is glad and a great light is spread over all that our eyes rest upon. Then we are full of strength and courage, and each man is our friend.

"But the thing we clasp to our heart is never ours to keep, for thus it is in this world. Joy and pain lie so close side by side that there seems no line to cross between the two--and yet when crossed.... Well, my son, I shall show thee what no other eye but mine own has ever looked upon; it is all that remains to me of what was on the other side of the line...."

The trembling hand removed the cover from the second object that lay on the table, and there, revealed to Eric's astonished gaze, was a face the like of which he had never seen before.

It lay, the head thrown back, the eyes closed, the lips slightly parted as if asking for a last caress.

The hair waved away from the delicate, somewhat sunken temples, forming the pillow on which it rested.

A calm expression of peace lay over the angelically pure features that had the soft whiteness of ivory.

There was no colour save a faint tint of pink on the beseeching mouth.

Yes, it was peace that was the princ.i.p.al expression of that face, and yet there was also a sad yearning in it, as if the closed eyes longed to raise their lids a last time to look upon a face they loved....

The old man's head now lay on the hard table upon his outstretched arms; he was overwhelmed by some tremendous emotion, unable to look at those silent features.

The youth knew not what force moved him, but he knelt down beside the emaciated old figure and, taking it into his strong young arms, he drew the bowed head towards him, and held it long against his heart in a silent embrace.

After a while both looked up and the grey hermit pressed one of his shaking hands on the young man's head; the other he laid with a caressing movement against the marble face.

"I have worked at this with the last strength of my feeble old hands.

And each day for many years I laboured to create the fairness of this face which I loved, but which never was mine!

"I will not weary thee with the story of my life; it is dark and ugly, but this thou shalt know: I loved her, and she gave me all the pa.s.sion of her pure heart. She knew not who I was, and when she found it out she could not bear the truth, so she searched a cold grave in the deep, dark floods. Thus she lay when last I looked upon her; the vision burnt itself deep into my brain for ever. For long, long years after she had crossed my path I continued to live a wicked life, full of dark deeds, full of treachery, keeping faith with none.

"But when, old and bent, I came to these solitudes her face alone was always with me. Then I began to carve upon the snowy marble the features I had loved the most in this world.

"Day by day I toiled, for my fingers were stiff and trembling, but I felt I could not die before I had completed this work of love. I felt that if I could conjure into life the marvel of her face as it was that day when they took her out of the cruel water and laid her, for ever silent, before me, her murderer, I would find forgiveness before that G.o.d I had always mocked but had learnt to believe in here in this vast solitude so near His sky!

"It is but a short while ago that I completed my work; thou seest thyself how surpa.s.sing fair it is, and since that day peace at last seems to be spreading very slowly over my soul...."

The old man paused, then drawing the youth quite near to him, he took his head in both his hands, bent it gently back, saying in a solemn voice:

"Remember the words of a very old man, who has known all of pain and joy, who also has lived through the h.e.l.l of remorse though it came too late ... too late.... Mayest thou never learn how sad is the word: Too late! Go thy way, my son. Search for the treasure thou dreamest of, and when it is thine hold it fast. It may come to thee in quite unexpected form--at first even thou mayest not realize that thou art so near; it may not come in splendid raiment with a crown on its head, but keep thy heart open as well as thy eyes; turn not away from the humblest call, never leave undone a deed of love.

"I, in my solitude, well know what it is to bitterly regret. All the wisdom I have acquired is but ashes to me because never did I understand how to use my riches,--I cherished what was of bra.s.s, and what was pure gold, in my vanity, I trampled underfoot. Thou hast within thee something that makes me believe thou art of those who win! Now I have said enough, and thou must continue thy road; but that thou shouldst not forget the grey hermit of the hills, I have for thee a gift, which, in the days of my youth, was my most trusted friend. In thy hands it will have greater power than ever it had in mine."

So saying the old man rose, went to the bed, and drew something out of the dark. When he came back he held within his hand a s.h.i.+ning sword.

"This sword have I loved in the pride of my youth, and even now, in my bitter old age, it was ever at my side. Whilst I worked at the cold, hard marble, it lay on the table near my hand; it alone felt my hot tears of grat.i.tude on the day I had completed my work.

"A legend is attached to it: it is said that if carried by hands that are clean of all sin it has unknown powers that reveal themselves in time of need. It may be true ..." the old man bowed his head.... "But my hands ... were never clean ... so no miracle shone on my road.

"To me it was simply a good strong sword which I used in my own defence.

I used it, too, against my country's foes, and many an evening has it dripped with blood. Gird it round thy waist and go forth with my blessing. I know not if the blessing of a man such as I hath worth in the eyes of G.o.d; nevertheless it comes from the deepest depths of my weary soul, and may it follow thee wherever thou goest and help thee to win."

Eric bent his knee, and the hermit laid both his hands on his golden locks, lingering tenderly over them as if loath to take his fingers away.

"One more gift have I for thee, my son, for I know the peril and loneliness of thy road. Here inside this box"--and he drew a small casket from his breast--"thou shalt find some tablets I once learnt to make, and which possess marvellous power to keep the traveller alive when he can find no food on his way; one of these alone is as much as a feast at the table of a king. Neither is this their only magic; for he who tastes of them to him is given command over all languages spoken under the sun."

"But am I not taking thy daily bread from thee?" cried the young man, as he sprang to his feet.

"Be without fear, dear youth; my days are numbered, and enough remains to me to keep my tired old body alive, as long as G.o.d still desires me to be of this earth. Go in peace, and have a kindly thought for the old sinner whose last joy has been to look into thy sunny eyes!"

He led Eric to the door of the cave, and pulling the curtain aside, gave a strange, shrill whistle.

As he did so there was a fluttering of wings, and somewhere out of the clouds a milk-white falcon swooped down to his hand.

"This bird of mine will show thee the road. Follow him without faltering, even if he seem to lead thee where no foot can climb. Be of good cheer, may G.o.d be with thee!"

Eric bowed his head, kissed the kind old hand, and then turned his face towards the lonely path he had to follow, the hawk flying before him like a white banner floating in the wind.