Elissa

H >> H. Rider Haggard >> Elissa


"Now I will explain," said Ithobal. "This is a method of punishment that
I have borrowed from those followers of Baal who worship the sun, by
means of which Baal claims his own sacrifice, and none are guilty of the
victim's blood. You see yonder crystal--well, at any appointed hour, for
it can be hung as you will, the rays of the sun shining through it cause
the fibres of the grass rope to smoke and smoulder till at length they
part and--Baal takes his sacrifice. Should a cloud hide the sun at the
appointed hour, then, Baal having spared him, the victim is set free.
But, as you will note, at this season of the year there are no clouds.

"What, Prince, have you nothing to say?" he went on, for Aziel had
listened in silence to the tale of this devilish device. "Well, learn
that it depends upon the lady Elissa yonder whether or not this fate
shall be yours. Send now and pray her to save you. Think what it will be
to hang as at this moment your servant hangs over that yawning gulf of
space, waiting through the long hours till at last you see the little
wreaths of smoke begin to curl from the tinder of the cord. Why! before
the end found them I have known men go mad, and, like wolves, tear with
their teeth at the wooden bars.

"You will not. Then, Metem, do you plead for your friend. Bid the
Baaltis look forth at one hour before noon and see the sight of yonder
wretch's death, remembering that to-morrow this fate shall be her
lover's unless she foregoes her purpose of self-murder and gives herself
to me. Nay, no words! an escort shall lead you through the lower city
to the gateway of the tomb and there listen to your speech. See that
it does not fail you, merchant, unless you also seek to hang in yonder
cage. Tell the lady Elissa that to-morrow at sunrise I will come in
person for her answer. If she yields, then the prince and his companions
shall be set free and with you, Metem, to guide them, be mounted
on swift camels to carry them unharmed to their retinue beyond the
mountains. But if she will not yield, then--Baal shall take his
sacrifice. Begone."

So, having no choice, Metem bowed and went, leaving the caged Aziel upon
the edge of the cliff, and the Hebrew soldier hanging from the spur of
rock.

Now Aziel roused himself from the horror in which his soul was sunk, and
strove to comfort his doomed comrade, praying with him to Heaven.

Slowly as they prayed, the hours drew on till at length, upon the
opposite cliff, he saw men whom he knew to be Metem and his escort,
approach the mouth of the tomb, and faintly heard him call through the
bars of the gateway. Turning himself in his cage, Aziel glanced at the
rope, and watched the spot of light born from the burning glass of the
crystal creep to its side.

Now the fatal moment was at hand, and Aziel saw a little wreath of smoke
rise in the still air and bade his wretched servant close his eyes. Then
came the end. Suddenly the taut rope, eaten through by the sun's fire,
flew back and the cage with the soldier in it vanished from his sight,
while, from far below, rose the sound of a heavy fall, and from the tomb
of Baaltis rang the echo of a woman's shriek.



CHAPTER XVII

"THERE IS HOPE"

It was dawn. Ithobal the king stood without the gates of the tomb of
Baaltis, the grey light glimmering faintly on his harness, and knocked
upon the brazen bars with the handle of his sword.

"Who troubles me now?" said a voice within.

"Lady, it is I, Ithobal, who, as I promised by Metem the Phoenician, am
come to learn your will as to the fate of my prisoner, the Prince Aziel.
Already he hangs above the gulf, and within one short hour, if you so
decree it, he will fall and be dashed to pieces. Or, if you so decree
it, he will be set free to return to his own land."

"At what price will he be set free, king Ithobal?"

"Lady, you know the price; it is yourself. Oh! I beseech you, be wise!
spare his life and your own. Listen: spare his life, and I will spare
this city which lies in the hollow of my hand, and you shall rule it
with me."

"You cannot bribe me thus, king Ithobal. My father whom I loved is dead,
and shall I give myself to you for the sake of a city and a Faith that
would have betrayed me into your hands?"

"Nay, but for the sake of the man to whom you are dear, you shall do
even this, Elissa. Think: if you refuse, his blood will be upon your
head, and what will you have gained?"

"Death, which I seek, for I weary of the struggle of my days."

"Then end it in my arms, lady. Soon this fancy will escape your mind,
and you will remain one of the mightiest queens of men."

Elissa returned no answer, and for a while there was silence.

"Lady," said Ithobal at length, "the sun rises and my servants yonder
await a signal."

Then she spoke like one who hesitates.

"Are you not afraid, king Ithobal, to trust your life to a woman won in
such a fashion?"

"Nay," answered Ithobal, "for though you say that their fate does not
concern you, the lives of all those penned-up thousands are hostages
for my own. Should you by chance find a means to stab me unawares, then
to-night fire and sword would rage through the city of Zimboe. Nor do I
fear the future, since I know well that you who think you hate me now,
very soon will learn to love me."

"You promise, king Ithobal, that if I yield myself you will set the
prince Aziel free; but how can I believe you who twice have tried to
murder him?"

"Doubt me if you will, Elissa, at least, you cannot doubt your own eyes.
Look, his road to the sea runs beneath this rock. Come from the tomb and
take your stand upon it and you shall see him pass; yes, and should you
wish, speak with him in farewell that you may be sure that it is he and
alive. Further, I swear to you by my head and honour, that no finger
shall be laid upon you till he is gone by, and that no pursuit of him
shall be attempted. Now choose."

Again there was silence for a while. Then Elissa spoke in a broken
voice.

"King Ithobal, I have chosen. Trusting to your royal word I will stand
upon the rock and when I have seen the prince Aziel go by in safety,
then, since you desire it, you shall put your arms about me and bear
me whither you will. You have conquered me, king Ithobal! Henceforward
these lips of mine are yours and no other man's. Give the signal, I pray
you, and I will cast aside the dagger and the poison and come out living
from this tomb."

Aziel hung in his cage over the abyss of air, awaiting death, and glad
to die, because now he was sure that Elissa had refused to purchase his
life at the expense of her own surrender. There he hung, dizzy and sick
at heart, making his prayer to heaven and waiting the end, while the
eagles that would prey upon his shattered flesh swept past him.

Presently, from the opposing cliff, came the sound of a horn blown
thrice. Then, while Aziel wondered what this might mean, the cage in
which he lay was drawn in gently over the edge of the precipice, and
carried down the steeps of the granite hill as it had been carried up
them.

At the foot of the hill its covering was torn aside, and he saw before
him a caravan of camels, and seated on each camel a comrade of his own.
But one camel had no rider, and Metem led it by a rope.

The servants of Ithobal took him from the cage and set him upon this
camel, though they did not loosen the bonds about the wrists.

"This is the command of the king," said the captain to Metem "that the
arms of the prince Aziel shall remain bound until you have travelled for
six hours. Begone in safety, fearing nothing."

*****

"What happens now, Metem," asked Aziel, as the camels strode forward,
"and why am I set free who was expecting death? Is this some new
artifice of yours, or has the lady Elissa----" and he ceased.

"Upon the word of an honest merchant I cannot tell you, Prince.
Yesterday, as I was forced, I gave the message of king Ithobal to the
lady Elissa yonder in the tomb. She would answer me only one thing,
which she whispered in my ear through the bars of the holy tomb; that if
we could escape we should do so, moreover that you must have no fear for
her since she also had found a means of escape from Ithobal, and would
certainly join us upon the road."

As Metem spoke, the camels passed round the little hill on to the path
that ran beneath the tomb of Baaltis. There, standing upon the rock
some fifty feet above them, was Elissa, and with her, but at a distance,
Ithobal the king.

"Halt, prince Aziel," she called in a clear voice, "and hearken to my
farewell. I have bought your life, and the lives of your companions, and
you are free, for the road is clear and nothing can overtake the twelve
swiftest camels in Zimboe. Go, therefore, and be happy, forgetting
no word that has passed my lips. For all my words are true, even to a
certain promise which I made you lately by the mouth of Metem, and which
I now fulfil--that I would join you on your road lest you should deem me
faithless to the troth which I have so often sworn to you.

"King Ithobal, this shape is yours; come now and take your prize. Prince
Aziel, my soul is yours, in life it shall companion you, and in death
await you. Prince Aziel, I come to you." Then, before he could answer
a single word, with one swift and sudden spring she hurled herself from
the cliff edge to fall crushed upon the road beneath.

Aziel saw. In his agony he strained so fiercely at the bonds which
held him that they burst like rushes. He leapt from the camel and knelt
beside Elisa. She was not yet dead, for her eyes were open and her lips
stirred.

"I have kept faith, keep it also, Aziel! the story is not yet done," she
gasped. Then her life flickered out, and her spirit passed.

Aziel rose from beside the corpse and looked upward. There upon the
edge of the rock above him, leaning forward, his eyes blind with horror,
stood Ithobal the king. Aziel saw him, and a fury entered into his heart
because this man, whose jealous rage and evil doing had bred such woe
and caused the death of his beloved still lived upon the earth. By the
prince was Metem, who, for once, had no words, and from his hand he
snatched a bow, set an arrow on the string and loosed.

The shaft rushed upwards, it smote Ithobal between the joints of his
harness so that the point of it sunk through this neck.

"This gift, king Ithobal, from Aziel the Israelite," he cried, as the
arrow sped.

For a moment the great man stood still, then he opened his arms wide and
of a sudden plunged downward, falling with a crash on the roadway, where
he lay dead at the side of dead Elissa.

*****

"The play is played, and the fate fulfilled," cried Metem. "See, the
servants of the king speed yonder with their evil tidings; let us away
lest we bide here with these two for ever."

"That is my desire," said Aziel.

"A desire which may not be fulfilled," answered Metem. "Come, Prince,
since we cannot go without you. Surely you do not wish to sacrifice the
lives of all of us as an offering to the great spirit of the lady who is
dead. It is one that she would not seek."

Then Aziel knelt down and kissed the brow of the dead Elissa, and went
his way, saying no word.

*****

That night, when the darkness fell, the sky behind these travellers grew
red with fire.

"Behold the end of the golden city!" said Metem. "Zimboe is food for
flames and its children for the sword. Issachar was a prophet indeed,
who foretold that it should be so."

Aziel bowed his head, remembering that Issachar had foretold also that
for Elissa and for him there was hope beyond the grave. As he thought
it, a wind beat upon his brow and through it a soft voice seemed to
murmur to his heart:--

"Be of good courage: Beloved, _there is hope_."

*****

So, turning from the death behind him, this far away forgotten lover
set his face to the sea of Life and passed it, and long ago, at his
appointed hour, gained its further shore, to be welcomed there by her
who watched for him.

And thus, because of the fateful and predestined loves of Aziel the
prince, and Elissa the priestess and daughter of Sakon, three thousands
years and more ago, the ancient city of Zimboe fell at the hand of king
Ithobal and his Tribes, so that to-day there remain of it nothing but a
desolate grey tower of stone, and beneath, the crumbling bones of men.