The House of Rimmon Part 3

[_The hall has been slowly filling with courtiers and soldiers: a crowd of people begin to come up the steps at the rear, where they are halted by a chain guarded by servants of the palace. A bell tolls; the royal door is thrown open; the aged King crosses the hall slowly and takes his seat on the throne with the four tall sentinels standing behind him. All bow down shading their eyes with their hands._]

BENHADAD: The hour of royal audience is come.

I'll hear the envoys of my brother king, The Son of a.s.shur. Are my counsellors At hand? Where are the priests of Rimmon's House?

[_Gongs sound. REZON comes in from the rear, followed by a procession of priests in black and yellow. The courtiers bow; the King rises; REZON takes his stand on the steps of the throne at the left of the King._]

BENHADAD; Where is my faithful servant Naaman, The captain of my host?

[_Trumpets sound from the city. The crowd on the steps divide; the chain is lowered; NAAMAN enters, followed by six soldiers. He is dressed in chain-mail, with a silver helmet and a cloak of blue. He uncovers, and kneels on the steps of the throne at the King's right._]

NAAMAN: My lord the King, The bearer of thy sword is here.

BENHADAD: [_Giving NAAMAN his hand, and sitting down._]

Welcome, My strong right arm that never failed me yet!

I am in doubt,--but stay thou close to me While I decide this cause. Where are the envoys?

Let them appear and give their message.

[_Enter the a.s.syrian envoys; one in white and the other in red; both with the golden Bull's head embroidered oh their robes. They come from the right, rear, bow slightly before the throne, and take the centre of the hall._]

WHITE ENVOY: [_Stepping forward._]

Greeting from Shalmaneser, a.s.shur's son, The king who reigns at Nineveh And takes his tribute from a thousand cities, Unto Benhadad, monarch in Damascus!

The conquering Bull has come out of the north; The south has fallen before him, and the west His feet have trodden; Hamath is laid waste; He pauses at your gate, invincible,-- To offer peace. The princes of your court, The priests of Rimmon's house, and you, the King, If you pay homage to your overlord, Shall rest secure, and flourish as our friends.

a.s.syria sends to you this gilded yoke; Receive it as the sign of proffered peace.

[_He lays a yoke on the steps of the throne._]

BENHADAD: What of the city? Said your king no word Of our Damascus, and the many folk That do inhabit her and make her great?

What of the soldiers who have fought for us?

The people who have sheltered 'neath our s.h.i.+eld?

WHITE ENVOY: Of these my royal master did not speak.

BENHADAD: Strange silence! Must we give them up to him?

Is this the price at which he offers us The yoke of peace? What if we do refuse?

RED ENYOY: [_Stepping forward._]

Then ruthless war! War to the uttermost.

No quarter, no compa.s.sion, no escape!

The Bull will gore and trample in his fury n.o.bles and priests and king,--none shall be spared!

Before the throne we lay our second gift; This b.l.o.o.d.y horn, the symbol of red war.

[_He lays a long bull's horn, stained with blood on the steps of the throne._]

WHITE ENVOY: Our message is delivered. Grant us leave And safe conveyance, that we may return Unto our master. He will wait three days To know your royal choice between his gifts.

Keep which you will and send the other back; The red bull's horn your youngest page may bring; But with the yoke, best send your mightiest army!

[_The ENVOYS retire, amid confused murmurs of the people, the King silent, his head sunken on his breast._]

BENHADAD: Proud words, a bitter message, hard to endure!

We are not now that force which feared no foe; Our host is weakened, and our old allies Have left us. Can we face this raging Bull Alone, and beat him back? Give me your counsel.

[_Many speak at once, confusedly._]

What babblement is this? Were ye born at Babel?

Give me clear words and reasonable speech.

RAKHAZ: [_Pompously_]

O King, I am a reasonable man; And there be some who call me very wise And prudent; but of this I will not speak, For I am also modest. Let me plead, Persuade, and reason you to choose for peace.

This golden yoke may be a bitter draught, But better far to fold it in our arms, Than risk our cargoes in the savage horn Of war. Shall we imperil all our wealth, Our valuable lives? n.o.bles are few, Rich men are rare, and wise men rarer still; The precious jewels on the tree of life, Wherein the common people are but brides And clay and rubble. Let the city go, But save the corner-stones that float the s.h.i.+p!

Have I not spoken well?

BENBADAD: [_Shaking his head._]

Excellent well!

Most eloquent! But misty in the meaning.

HAZAEL: [_With cold decision._]

Then let me speak, O King, in plainer words!

The days of independent states are past: The tide of empire sweeps across the earth; a.s.syria rides it with resistless power And thunders on to subjugate the world.

Oppose her, and we fight with Destiny; Submit to her demands, and we shall ride With her to victory. Therefore return This b.l.o.o.d.y horn, the symbol of wild war, With words of soft refusal, and accept The golden yoke, a.s.syria's gift of peace.

NAAMAN: [_Starting forward eagerly._]

There is no peace beneath a conqueror's yoke, My King, but shame and heaviness of heart!

For every state that barters liberty To win imperial favour, shall be drained Of her best blood, henceforth, in endless wars To make the empire greater. Here's the choice: We fight to-day to keep our country free, Or else we fight forevermore to help a.s.syria bind the world as we are bound.

I am a soldier, and I know the h.e.l.l Of war! But I will gladly ride through h.e.l.l To save Damascus. Master, bid me ride!

Ten thousand chariots wait for your command; And twenty thousand hors.e.m.e.n strain the leash Of patience till you let them go; a throng Of spearmen, archers, swordsmen, like the sea Chafing against a dike, roar for the onset!

O master, let me launch your mighty host Against the Bull,--we'll bring him to his knees!

[_Cries of "War!" from the soldiers and the people; "peace!" from the courtiers and the priests. The King rises, turning toward NAAMAN, and seems about to speak. REZON lifts his rod._]

REZON: Shall not the G.o.ds decide when mortals doubt?

Rimmon is master of the city's fate; He reigns in secret and his will is law; We read his will, by our most ancient faith, In omens and in signs of mystery.

Must we not hearken to his high commands?

BENHADAD: [_Sinking hack on the throne, submissively._]

I am the faithful son of Rimmon's House.

Consult the oracle. But who shall read?

REZON: Tsarpi, the wife of Naaman, who served Within the temple in her maiden years, Shall be the mouthpiece of the mighty G.o.d, To-day's high-priestess. Bring the sacrifice!

[_Gongs and cymbals sound: enter priests carrying an altar on which a lamb is bound. The altar is placed in the centre of the hall. TSARPI follows the priests, covered with a long transparent veil of black, sewn with gold stars; RUAHMAH, in white, bears her train. TSARPI stands before the altar, facing it, and lifts her right hand holding a knife. RUAHMAH steps back, near the throne, her hands crossed on her breast, her head bowed. The priests close in around TSARPI and the altar. The knife is seen to strike downward. Gongs and cymbals sound: cries of "Rimmon, hear us." The circle of priests opens, and TSARPI turns slowly to face the King._]

TSARPI: [_Monotonously._]

_Black is the blood of the victim, Rimmon is unfavourable, Asratu is unfavourable; They will not war against a.s.shur, They will make a league with the G.o.d of Nineveh.

Evil is in store for Damascus, A strong enemy will lay waste the land.

Therefore make peace with the Bull; Hearken to the voice of Rimmon._

[_She turns again to the altar, and the priests close in around her.

REZON lifts his rod toward the tower of the temple. A flash of lightning followed by thunder; smoke rises from the altar; all except NAAMAN and RUAHMAH cover their faces. The circle of priests opens again, and TSARPI comes forward slowly, chanting._]