The Worlds Desire.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 978, 28 November 1890, Page 10

The Worlds Desire.

•A ;; by •.• iv/ H. RIDER HAGGARD

AND ANDREW LANG.

Hclenam veto immortahm Juisse indicat empiw.— Servius. ASneid 11., 501.

PART IL—CHAPTER X. The Oath of the Wanderer.

That night the Wanderer saw not Meriamun, but on the morrow she sent a messenger to him, bidding him to her feast that night. He had little heart to go, but a Queen’s courtesy is a command, and he went at sundown. Rei also went to the feast, and as he went, meeting the Wanderer in the antechamber, he whispered to him that all things were made ready, that a good ship waited him in the harbour, the very ship that he had captured from the Sidonians, and that he, Rei, would be with him by the pylon gate of the temple one hour before midnight. Presently, as he whispered, the doors were flung wide and Meriamun the Queen passed in, followed by eunuchs and waiting women. She was Royally arrayed, her face was pale and cold, but her great eyes glowed in it. Low the Wanderer bowed before her. She bent her head in answer, then gave him her hand, and he led her to the feast. They sat there side by side, but the Queen spoke little, and that little of Pharaoh and the host of the Apura, from whom no tidings came. When at length the feast was done, Meriamun bade the Wanderer to her private chamber, and thither he went for a while, though sorely against his will. But Rei came not in with them and thus he was left alone with the Queen —for she dismissed the waiting ladies.

When they had gone there was

silence for awhile, but ever the Wanderer felt the eyes of Meriamun watch-

ing him as though they would read his heart.

‘I am weary,’ she said at length. ‘ Tell me of thy wanderings, Odysseus

of Ithaca—nay, tell me of the siege of

f Ilios and of the sinful Helen, who i brought all these woes about. Ay, and tell me how thou didst creep from the sL leaguer of the Achseans, and, wrapped in a beggar’s weeds, seek speech of this . I evil Helen now justly slain of the angry Gods.’ || ‘ Justly slain is she, indeed,’ anjj| swered the crafty Wanderer. ‘An ill thing is it, truly, that the lives of so j many heroes should be lost because of ij| the beauty of a faithless woman. I had S?| it in my own heart to slay her when I i|| spoke with her in Troy Towers, but the |s| Gods held my hand.’ i|| ‘ Was it so, indeed ?’ said the Queen, i smiling darkly. ‘ Doubtless if yet she lived, and thou sawest her, thou wouldst ■(' slay her. Is it not so, Odysseus V ‘ She lives no more, O Queen !’ he i -answered. eVj; ‘Nay, she lives no mote, Odysseus. Sjjt.Now tell me; yesterday thou wentest (up to the temple of the Hathor; tell p|me what thou didst see in the temple.’ | ‘ I saw a fair woman, or, perchance, .an immortal Goddess, stand upon the •i pylon brow, and as she stood and sang I those who looked were bereft of l’eason. IjjAnd thereafter some tried to pass the 3- i|»hosts who guarded the woman and If (svere slain of invisible swords. It was if |a strange sight to see.’ |f;| ‘A strange sight, truly. But thou f] (didst not lose thy craft, Odysseus, nor ;; (try to break through the ghosts?’ I'll * Nay, Meriamun. In my youth I 4ji pave looked upon the beauty of Argive ;(1 Helen, who was fairer than she who ftood upon the pylon tower. None rho have looked upon the Helen would jl;(seek to win the Hathor.’ ( ‘ But, perchance, those who have : -ooked upon the Hathor may seek to | >Vin the Helen,’ she answered slowly, - (;nd he knew not what to say, for he ■ pit the power of her magic on him. | So for awhile they spoke, and Meria(|iun, knowing all, wondered much at yie guile o* the Wanderer, but she * lowed no wonder in her face. At Bsngth he rose, and, bowing before her, iid that he must visit the guard that (patched the Palace gates. She looked '*'ion him strangely and bade him go. B!Len he went, and right glad he was us to be free of her. But when the curtains had swung hind him, Meriamun the Queen rang to her feet, and a dreadful light daring burned in her eyes. She gapped her hands, and bade those who ; me to her seek their rest, as she jgpuld also, for she was weary and • none to wait upon hor. So the | . omen went, leaving her alone, and sho || j leased into her sleeping chamber.

for the bridal,’ she said, and straightway, pausing not, drew" forth the Ancient Evil from its hiding-place and warmed it on her breast, breathing the breath of life into its nostrils. Now, as. before, it grew and wound itself about her, and whispered in her ear, bidding her clothe herself in bridal white and clasp the Evil around her; then think on the beauty she had seen gather on the face of dead Hataska in the temple of Osiris, and on +he face of the Bai, and the face of the Ka. She did its command, fearing nothing, for her heart was alight with love, and torn with jealous hate, and little did she reck of the sorrows which her sin would bring forth. So she bathed herself in perfumes, shook out her shining hair, and clad herself in white attire. Then sho looked upon her beauty in the mirror of silver, and cried in the bitterness of her heart to the Evil that lay beside her like a snake asleep.

‘ Ah, am I not fair enow to win him whom I love ? Say, thou Evil, must I indeed steal the beauty of another to win him whom I love ?’

‘ This must thou do,’ said the Evil, ‘or lose him in Helen’s arms. For though thou art fair, yet is she Beauty’s self, and her gentleness he le [, es, and not thy pride. Choose, choose swiftly, for presently the Wanderer goes forth to win the Golden Helen.’

- Then she doubted no more, but lifting the shining Evil, held it to her. With a dreadful laugh it twined itself about her, and lo ! it shrank to the shape of a girdling, double-headed snake of gold, with eyes of ruby flame. And as it shrank Meriamun the Queen thought on the beauty she had seen upon the face of dead Hataska, on the face of the Bai, and the face of the Ka, and all the while she watched her beauty in the mirror. And as she watched, behold her face grew as the face of death, ashen and hollow, then slowly burned into life again—but all her loveliness was changed. Changed were her dark locks to locks of gold, changed were her deep eyes to eyes of blue, changed was the glory of her pride to the sweetness of the Helen’s smile. Fairest among women had been her form, now it was fairer yet, and now—now she was Beauty’s self, and like to swoon at the dream of her own loveliness.

‘ So, ah so, must the Hathor seem,’ she said, and lo! her voice rang strangely in her ears. For the voice, too, was changed, it was more soft than the whispering of wind-stirred reeds; it was more sweet than the murmuring of bees at noon.

Now she must go forth, and fearful at her own loveliness, and heavy with her sin, yet glad with a strange joy, she passes from her chamber and glides like, a starbeam through the still Balls of her Palace. The white light of the moon creeps into them and falls upon the faces of the dreadful gods, on the awful smile of sphinxes, and the pictures of her forefathers, kings and queens who long were dead. And as she goefc she seems to hear them whisper each to each of the dreadful sin that she has sinned, and of the sorrow that shall be. But she does not heed, and never stays her foot. For her heart is alight as with a flame, and she will win the Wanderer to her arms—the Wanderer sought through many lives, found after many deaths. Now the Wanderer is in his chamber, waiting for the hour to set forth to find the Golden Helen. His heart is alight, and strange dreams of the past go before his eyes, and strange visions of long love to be. His heart burns like a lamp in the blackness, and by that light he sees all the days of his life that have been, and all the wars that he has won, and all the seas that he has sailed. And now he knows that these things are dreams indeed, illusions of the outer sense, for there is but one thing true in the life of men, and that is Love ; there is but one thing perfect, the beauty which is Love’s robe; there is but one thing which all men seek and are born to find at last, the heart of the Golden Helen, the World’s Desire, that is peace and joy and rest. He binds his armour on him, for foes may lurk in darkness, and takes the Bow of Eurytus, and the grey bolts of death; for, perchance, the fight is not yet done, and he must cleave his way to joy. Then he combs his locks and sets the golden helm upon them, and, praying to the gods (ah! the gods are deaf), passes from his chamber.

Now the chamber opened into a great hall of pillars. As was his custom when he went alone by night, the Wanderer glanced warily down the dusky hall, but little might he see because of the shadows. Nevertheless,

the moonlight poured into the centre of the hail from the clerestories in the roof, and lay there shining white as water beneath black banks of reeds. Again, the .Wanderer glanced with keen, quick eyes, for there was a sense in his heart that he was no more alone in the hall, though whether it wer6 + man or ghost, or, perchance, one of the immortal gods who looked on him, he might not tell. Now it seemed to him that he saw a shape of white moving far away in the shadow. Then he grasped the black bow and laid hand upon his quiver so that the. shafts rattled.

Now it would seem that the shape in the shadow heard the rattling of the shafts, or perchance it. was the moonlight gleam upon the Wanderer’s golden harness—at the least it drew near till it came to the edge of the pool of light. There it paused as a bather pauses ere she steps into the fountain. The Wanderer paused aUo, wondering what the shape might be. Half was he minded to fry it with an arrow from the bow, but he held his hand and watched.

And as he watched, the white shape glided into the space of moonlight, and he saw that it was the form of a woman draped in white, and that about her shone a gleaming girdle, and in the girdle gems which sparkled like the eyes of a snake. Tali was the shape and lovely as a statue of Aphrodite; but who or what it was he might not tell, for the head was bent and the face hidden.

Awhile the shape stood thus, and as it stood, the Wanderer, drawn by wonder, passed towards it, till he also stood in the pool of moonlight that shimmered on his golden mail. Then suddenly the shape lifted its face so that the light fell on it, and stretched out its arms towards him, and lo ! the face was the face of Argive Helen—of her whom he went forth to seek. He looked upon its beauty, he looked upon the eyes of blue, upon the golden hair, upon the shining arms; then slowly, very slowly, and in silence—for he could find no words—the Wanderer drew near.

She did not move nor speak. So still she stood that scarce she seemed to breathe. Only the shining eyes of her snake-girdle glittered like living things. Again he stopped fearfully, for he held that this was surely a mocking ghost which stood before him, but still she neither moved nor spoke, v Then at length he found his tongue and spoke: ‘Lady,’ he whispered, ‘is it indeed thou, is it Argive Helen whom I 'look upon, or is it, perchance, a ghost sent by Queen Persephone from the House of Hades, to make a mock of me?’

Now the voice of Helen answered him in sweet tones and low :

‘Did I not tell thee, Odysseus of Ithaca, did I not tell thee, yesterday, in the halls of Hathor, after thou hadst overcome the ghosts, that to-night we should be wed ? Wherefore, then, dost thou deem me of the number of the bodiless ?’ The Wanderer hearkened. The voice was the voice of Helen, the eyes were the eyes of Helen, and yet his heart feared guile. ‘So did Argive Helen tell me of a truth, Lady, but this she said, that I should find her by the pylon of the temple, and lead her thence to be my bride. Thither IgO but now to seek her. But if thou art Helen, how comest thou to these Palace halls? And where, Lady, is that Red Star which should gleam upon thy breast, that Star which weeps out the blood of men ?’

‘ No more doth the red dew fall from the Star that was set upon my breast, Odysseus, for now that thou has won me men die no more for my beauty’s sake. Gone is the Star of War; and see, Wisdom rings me round, the symbol of the Deathless Snake that signifies love eternal. Thou dost ask how [ came hither, I, who am immortal and a daughter of God ? Seek not to know, Odysseus, for where Fate puts it in my mind to be, there do the Gods bear me. Wouldst thou, then, that I leave thee, Odysseus ?’ ‘ Last oi all things do I desire this,’ he answered, for now his wisdom went a wandering; now he forgot the words of Aphrodite, warning him that the Helen might be known by one thing only, the Red Star on her breast, whence falls the blood of men; and he no more doubted but that she was the Golden Helen. *

* Then she who wore the Helen’s shape stretched out her arms and smiled so sweetly that the Wanderer knew nothing any more, save that she drew him to her. •

Slowly she! glided before Kira, ! ever smiling, and where she went he followed, as men follow beauty in a dream. She led him through halls and corridors, past the sculptured statues of the gods, past man-headed sphinxes, and pictures of long dead kings. And as she goes, once more it seems to her that she hears them whisper each to each of the horror of her sin and the sorrow that shall be. But nought she heeds who ever leads him on, and nought he hears who ever follows after, till at length, though he knows it not, they stand in the bed-chamber of the Queen, and by Pharaoh’s golden bed. Then once more she speaks :

‘ Odysseus of Ithaca, whom I have loved from the beginning, and whom I shall love till all deaths are done, before thee stands that Loveliness which the gods predestined to thy arms. Now take thou thy Bride, but first lay thy hand upon this golden Snake, that rings me round, the new bridal gift of the gods, and swear thy marriage oath, which may not be broken. Swear thus, Odysseus ; “ I love thee, Woman or Immortal, and thee alone, and by whatever name thou art called, and in whatever shape thou goest, to thee will I cleave, and to thee alone, till the day of the passing of Time. I will forgive thy sins, I will soothe thy sorrows, I will suffer none to come betwixt thee and me. This I swear to thee, Woman or Immortal, who dost stand before me. I swear it to thee, Woman, for now and for ever, for here and hereafter, in whatever shape thou goest on the earth, by whatever name thou art known among men.” 1 ‘ Swear thou thus, Odysseus of Ithaca, Laertes’ son, or leave me and go thy ways!' ‘Great is the oath,’ quoth the Wanderer; for though now he feared no guile, yet his crafty heart liked it ill. ‘ Choose, and choose swiftly,’ she answered. ‘Swear the oath, or leave me and never see me more!’

* Leave thee I will not, and cannot if I would,’ he said. ‘ Lady, I swear !’ and he laid his hand upon the Snake that ringed her round, and swore the dreadful oath. Yea, he forgot the words of the goddess, and the words of Helen, and he swore by the Snake who should have sworn by the Star. By the immortal gods he swore it, by the Symbol of the Snake, and by the Beauty of his Bride. And as he swore the eyes of the Serpent sparkled, and the eyes of her who wore the beauty of Helen shone, and faintly the black bow of Eurytus thrilled, foreboding Death and War.

But nought the Wanderer thought on guile or War or Death, for the kiss of her whom he deemed the Golden Helen was on his lips, and he went up into the golden bed of Meriamun. For he had forgotten the words of the goddess—he had sworn by the Snake, who should have sworn by the Star,

(To be continued.)