Istar of Babylon: A Phantasy

by Margaret Horton Potter

  XXI

  KURUSH THE KING

  The camp of the invading army lay spread over the sun-burned plain likea camp of the dead. There was hardly a sign of life round any of themany-colored tents. The very horses and pack-mules, tethered in a herdin the midst of the desert of dry grass, lay for the most part pantingwith heat, pining, no doubt, for the distant, breezy hills of fair Iranand the snowy highlands of Media, where they had been born and bred.Those of the soldiers not quartered inside the city lay under the shadowof their tents, hardly caring to exert themselves to speak, sleeping ifthey could, drinking as much as was to be had if they could not. Almostthe only person abroad in the noontide was the commander himself, who,with one companion, was going through the camp, making one of hisimpromptu examinations of his men and their armament. Hardened as he wasby years of campaigning in strange countries, Cyrus to-day found Babylonas unbearable as any one. His body was damp with sweat, and hisbreathing, as he walked, was audible. The blue quiver of heat that camefrom the great desert near by made his eyes bloodshot, and caused him tosee with no little difficulty. Still, remonstrate as he would, thewhite-robed man that walked with him succeeded only in making Cyrus morethorough and more lingering at his task.

  The commander's two sons, however, had not the energy of their father.They lay on divans in the royal tent, Bardiya, the younger and morefavored of the two, strumming idly on a musical instrument; Cambyses,content to be still, drinking bowl after bowl of a concoction suppliedby a slave, pausing occasionally in the bibulous process to curse at theflies and winged insects that swarmed about him. Presently, looking overat his brother, who for the moment had ceased to play, he asked,civilly:

  "In thy pilgrimage of yesterday, Bardiya, didst discover any cool spotin the city yonder?"

  Bardiya drew himself together with a little gesture of disgust, and hisbrother's features broadened with a grin. "Babylon is city of filth, ofdisease, of death. Thousands within it die of the plague. Those thatsicken and those that are dead lie alike in the open streets. There isno relief. The very river runs like molten metal. On the pavement bricksthe flesh of a slain animal could be roasted to a turn. I go no more toBabylon."

  Cambyses laughed. "And her whom you sought, Bardiya--she loved you not?"

  Bardiya, highly displeased at the tone, replied: "She is not in thecity; or, if she is, no man knows where she lies hid. Some say that sheascended to the silver sky with the spirit of Bel-shar-utsur, who washer husband. Again they tell me she was murdered with the other women inthe temple of Bel-Marduk, on the night we took the city. Howbeit, no manreally knows whether or not Istar of Babylon still lives."

  Cambyses laughed again. "Istar of Babylon! A myth! She lives no morethan any other god. Think you the great Ahura comes down among men, aman?"

  But Bardiya's faith would not be shaken, and he had begun an elaborateprotestation, when the conversation was interrupted by the appearance ofCyrus, returning from his round with Amraphel of Bel at his side. At theentrance of their father the young men rose and saluted him with arespect that was the more marked because both of them utterly ignoredthe presence of the high-priest.

  Amraphel's bearing was a curious contrast to that of the conqueror. Itwas replete with affectation and bombastic dignity, and whatevermortification he felt at the want of recognition shown him by Cyrus'sons, was manifested only by an increased loftiness of carriage.

  The king seated himself in an ivory chair before a little stone tablethat stood in the centre of the tent, and he motioned Amraphel at thesame time to a stool at his side. No sooner was he seated than thepriest began to speak upon what was evidently a continued subject,already much discussed. And though his tone was in itself sufficientlyself-satisfied, the terms in which he spoke were exceedingly unlikethose that he had been accustomed to use to the whilom king of Babylon.Where once had been unutterable arrogance and supercilious disdain ofeverything, was now eager flattery, cajolements, toadyism, and unceasingassurances of devotion. In the Elamite of plebeian parentage, Amraphelhad found a none too complacent master.

  "And does my lord the king think his city ill-governed, that he is notcontent to remain in safety outside its unhealthy walls? Nay, greatKurush, thine every command, to the least of them, is given there by me,and strictly obeyed by those in office under me. As I have said, thecity is loyal to you, through my teachings."

  Cyrus bit his beard impatiently. "It is not that I fear lest my commandsbe disregarded. You I hold responsible for their fulfilment. It is thatI would better know what commands to give. Here am I, native of anotherland, ignorant of Babylonish ways, of Babylonish needs, knowing no onestreet, no temple in all the city, striving to govern it from this campoutside the walls. It is folly, priest!"

  "Nay, most mighty king. What the people need, I know. What they wantshall be given. Fear not--"

  "_Fear not!_" Cyrus turned on him with such a look that the high-prieststarted in confusion and shrank away a little, while from his cornerCambyses laughed harshly; but Bardiya scowled at the presumption of thepriest. At sound of the laugh Amraphel flushed with anger; and Cyrus,controlling himself again, observed, in a gentler tone:

  "Yesterday Bardiya, my son, went into the city yonder; and his story ofthose that perish of the plague is grievous."

  "The young prince, the son of my lord, came into the city!" exclaimedAmraphel, in chagrin. "Why, then, sought he me not in my house?"

  "For the reason that he sought another and a fairer than thou, goodAmraphel," replied Cambyses, in a highly impertinent tone.

  "Whom didst thou seek, prince?" asked the priest, turning to Bardiya.

  "Her whom they call Istar of Babylon."

  "Ah! Where didst thou learn that name?"

  "It is to be heard through all the east--and west--and north. No man butknows of the living goddess of Babylon. Yet within the walls of her cityI found her not, nor any that could tell me where she dwelt. _Is_ theresuch an one, Amraphel?"

  "Now is it seven days since I sent asking that she be brought to me, orthat I may have permission to go before her," observed Cyrus,thoughtfully. "Yet hath she not come, nor have I had any word from her."

  "There was indeed an Istar of Babylon, who was wedded to Belshazzar, thedead tyrant. And her beauty, were it famed at all, were rightly famedover all the world. Yet was she no goddess: rather a sorceress, a witch,a demon, most wicked, most impure. Since the night of the taking of thecity she hath been seen by no man. She it was, no doubt, that murderedBelshazzar the king, whom my lord commanded to be saved from death andto be brought before him. Now, doubtless, she hath taken his spirit withher down to her kingdom, down to Mulge, where she and he feast by dayupon the dust of the dead, and by night upon the blood of living beings;for they are vampires. Yea, verily, Istar of Babylon is no more, Oking."

  There was a little silence. Amraphel's words had been spoken with everyappearance of sincerity; and the idea that he presented was sufficientlyweird to appeal to the lively imaginations of the Elamites. Bardiya gavea little sigh, and Cambyses and his father were for a moment lost inthought, when the party was broken in upon by a man that appearedsuddenly in the door-way of the tent, and, seeing Cyrus and thehigh-priest together, bent the knee before them and asked permission tospeak. He was a runner, or messenger, from the city, and as such hisunceremonious entrance was pardonable--nay, customary.

  "What wouldst thou, swift one?" demanded the king, good-humoredly.

  "May the lord king of the city live forever! I am come with word fromher that is called Istar of Babylon, whose presence before thee thouhast desired. Behold she follows me hither in one hour; and she sendsher greeting to the great conqueror."

  Cyrus, with a mixture of surprise and amusement, glanced at the priest,who was a fair picture of uneasiness.

  "Say, runner," asked the king, teasingly, "the Lady Istar, did she risebefore thee out of the ground from the land of Ninkigal? Came she forthbefore thine eyes? Or art even thou, perchance, a ghost?"

  The man looked his
bewilderment at the king, and this time Bardiyahimself roared with laughter.

  "The Lady Istar is living. The message was given me by a priest ofNergal, who comes to conduct the lady before thee. I know no more, Oking!"

  "Then take thy leave, fellow," cried Cyrus, tossing him a shekel fromhis girdle, and smiling as the man prostrated with lightning-likerapidity and was up and gone from the tent like an arrow from the bow,ere Amraphel had time to speak.

  Now the high-priest rose, and, with an air of angry dignity, demandedpermission to retire. Cyrus gave it willingly enough, for the manwearied him, and continually angered him by his presumption. Thus, then,a moment later, the high-priest was mounting his chariot at the edge ofthe camp, and might presently have been seen rolling swiftly away in thedirection of the gate of Bel.

  Cyrus and his sons were left alone till the coming of her whose name hadso long been familiar to them. At the end of half an hour Bardiya rosefrom his place, straightened his tunic, and went over to the door of thetent to look out upon the plain in the direction of the city. Cyrus andCambyses were eating their delayed noon meal; but the younger man, whosevein of romance was marked, refused food, and stood here alone, lookingout over the parched fields. From time to time his father asked ifanything were to be seen of their promised visitor; and always came thereply:

  "Neither chariot nor litter do I see."

  Then finally, as all three of them grew impatient at the delay, theyouth added: "But there are, near at hand, a company of priests on foot,and in their midst is some one clad in black. They come towards ourtent. Perhaps--"

  Cyrus came over and stood at his shoulder. "I think it is the woman," hesaid. And he was right.

  The three of them, the great king in the centre, Cambyses on the righthand, Bardiya on the left, stood in the door-way of the tent as thelittle band of white-robed priests came up to them. There was a slow,sinking reverence on the part of the attendants, and from their midstcame forth a tall, slight figure muffled in the silver-shining veil.Seeing her, the conqueror and his sons all three inclined their bodies,and then Cyrus stretched out his hand.

  "Istar of Babylon, we give you greeting in the name of Elam and Media,and we bid you welcome to this tent of the plain."

  Istar bent her head, acknowledging the courtesy, but denied her hand tohim that mutely asked it. Turning slightly, she dismissed the priests,who, remembering her commands, accepted the gesture and departed fromher reluctantly.

  Then Istar entered the tent and took the chair that Cambyses hastened toplace for her. Cyrus also seated himself, but the young men stood. Nowthat speech seemed demanded of him, the great king looked a littleuncertain of himself. He glanced at the concealing veil which the womanstill kept close around her, and he longed greatly to ask for a sight ofthe far-famed face. Yet that was a request that he dared not make.Istar, however, read his mind without difficulty, and let her head sinksorrowfully upon her breast. It seemed to her at last that her cup ofbitterness was full; and she whispered a little prayer into the silence.Cyrus caught three or four of her low words, and these gave him anopening for speech.

  "You speak to the gods. Is it with the gods of Babylon that you holdcommunion, lady?"

  "There is no god but God, great king; and Him, in their hearts, all menmust worship."

  Cyrus looked slightly puzzled, and his curiosity was stronger than ever.Yielding to an impulse, he leaned over, asking: "Istar of Babylon, whoart thou?"

  Istar glanced round her. "Let thy sons depart, that we may be alone,"she said, in a quiet command.

  Cyrus made a gesture that the young men dared not disobey, and, howevermuch against their wills, they quickly left the tent. In departing,Bardiya let fall the curtain at the door, so that the king and theking's visitor were alone in the pleasant half-light. Then Istar spoke:"Thou hast asked what I am, O king. Tell me first who art thou, andthereafter I will answer thee."

  "I am Kurush, an Achaemenian."

  "And I am Istar, a woman, sent of God to be punished on earth."

  "Unveil thyself, woman. Let me behold that face that the world hasworshipped."

  Istar rose. She was trembling slightly in her great shame. Yet there wasno hesitation in her movements. With a dexterous twist she flung off herveil and stood revealed before the conqueror in all her unspeakableugliness.

  Cyrus let a cry escape him. "Thou! Thou art not Istar of Babylon!"

  She folded both hands across her breast and her dim eyes closed. "I amIstar of Babylon," she said, softly.

  After the shock of first seeing her, the king had looked away. Now, asshe stood there before him, mute and motionless, he struggled withhimself to let his eyes return to her without outward betrayal of hisfeeling. When finally he looked again his brown orbs were clear andcalm, and he showed no sign of repulsion. For one, two, three minutes helooked upon her face till, in spite of the frightful complexion, hebegan to perceive its fundamental beauty. Of her eyes, only, he couldnot judge. They were swollen, red, matterated, nearly closed. Otherwisehe knew from what he saw that she had once been rarely beautiful.Only--always--she was hideous now--hideous beyond belief.

  Knowing well his mind, how she revolted him, how strong was his desireto leave her presence, Istar still stood before the great king. It washer final mortification, and even her going forth from the temple of Belunder Amraphel's lash had not been so terrible to her as this. Yet now,by degrees, as if a magnetic current passed between them, someunderstanding of what she underwent came home to the warrior. Compassionand pity took the place of horror. His face grew very gentle, and,moving to Istar's side, he laid one hand on her cotton-clad shoulder.

  "Istar, thou hast greatly suffered. Is it not so?"

  She shrank back from his touch as if she knew all that the move had costhim. But the question she answered freely, without hesitation.

  "I have suffered, yea, by day and by night, for many months. I doubtedthe wisdom of the Lord, and I am punished. I became mortal. I loved; andthat that I loved more than myself death hath taken from me. Fame,honor, riches, purity, love, and beauty are gone. Nothing now remains.The end draws near. From afar I hear the voice of my beloved calling me.

  "Thou, O king, great king, lord of the gate of God, art at the zenith ofthy glory. Thy greatest victory is won. Thy time here is not muchlonger. After thee come two that shall dispute the throne, and theyshall fare forth from the world in the bloodshed of murder andself-murder. After them cometh one greater than either, that shall enterBabylon from another country. For him the sun grows golden. He shall putdown usurpers from his seat; and for a little while shall hold and rulethe kingdom with a strong and mighty hand. And then--I see the cityslowly sink--under the weight of time. One more conqueror she shallknow: a youth of iron from a land of gold. And he shall set the worldaghast with his conquests; but he shall find his tomb there within theGreat City of his conquering. After him the East grows black. The roseshall wither unseen upon her tree. Even to the banks of the great riverblow thick the desert sands. Walls and palaces shall crumble away. Andupon the broken stairs of the tower of Bel a jewel of great price liesfor many centuries unheeded in the universal desolation. And forcenturies, Achaemenian, thou shalt sleep, ere thou art known again asking of Babylon--the city of my lord."

  With the ending of her vision Istar smiled slowly upon him that watchedher with troubled eyes. As the spell passed she trembled, and, stooping,picked up the veil that lay about her feet. Cyrus moved forward as if hewould have stopped her.

  "Speak on! Let me hear again that that thou hast foretold. Such prophecyas this no seer of my court hath ever made."

  But Istar's fire was gone. The light in her face died away, and in itsdeath Cyrus read her answer to his plea. Then she wrapped herself againin the covering that hid her plight, and from it, as from behind a mask,she spoke again:

  "Thou, O Cyrus, who hast beheld me in mine ugliness, must carry withthee the memory of it forever. Yet know that Istar of Babylon hathhumbled herself before thee as before no living man. My
king is dead. Inhis place, by reason of thy gentleness and justice, I hail thee lord ofChaldea and of Babylon." And thereupon, before Cyrus understood what shedid or could prevent the act, Istar knelt at his feet and touched them,the right and the left, with her forehead, in the manner of the day.

  With a quick exclamation Cyrus lifted her up; but she spoke gently tohim, saying:

  "That that was written have I done. Censure me not. I but obeyed my law.Now fare thee well, O king. The end cometh, and I go forth to meet it."

  "Nay, Istar--hold! One question more! Thou, his wife, art accused of themurder of the king of Babylon, whom I commanded to be brought before meliving and unhurt from the feast in the temple. How dost thou answerthis accusation?"

  "Who hath accused me of the deed?"

  "The priest of Bel."

  "Amraphel?"

  "Yea."

  "Then I ask thee only why I should have killed him that my soul loves asit loved not God?"

  "Knowest thou, then, the murderer?"

  "He that accused me shall, in God's time, answer to that charge. Butthou, Cyrus, see that thou punish him not. Thy hands are red with theblood of many slain in battle; and shall the slayer accuse the slayer?Now speak no more to me. I return again to the city."

  In spite of her last bidding, Cyrus, slightly angered by her perfectassurance, would have spoken again, had he not found it to be a physicalimpossibility. It was in his heart to accuse her of his own accord ofthe death of Belshazzar. Yet he could not voice the thought. As she leftthe tent he moved after her to the door-way, whence he could look overthe plain to the walls of the city. He saw the black-robed figure glideunaccosted through the camp and beyond it, in the direction thatAmraphel had taken more than an hour before. And as he watched her Cyrusfelt a great reverence spring up in his heart, and in the after-wonderat her bearing and her words he forgot how she had looked. Andpresently, as he stood there lost in thought, Bardiya came to hisshoulder, asking, softly:

  "My father, is she all that men have said?"

  Cyrus hesitated in his reply. Finally, after a long pause, he answeredof his own will: "More wonderful than any have said. She is a woman sentof God."