Chapter X

A woman, but not Miriam. He stared at her blankly. He strove to speak, but his stiff tongue only clicked against his dry palate. His mouth gaped. He drank her in with long pants, veritably as though her beauty had been the luscious wine of Ephesus, chilled with Mount Hermon's snow.

She was draped in a robe of fine Egyptian byssus with crimson and purple borders, fastened about her rounded hips, and drawn over her beautiful bronze-tinted shoulders and bosom in many transparent folds. From beneath an Egyptian headdress of enamelled guinea-fowl's feathers her rich hair, plaited with gold wire strung with orient pearls and other jewels, fell down in broad bands on either side of her small face of purest oval, from which piercing glances were launched as arrows under eyebrows like ebony bows. Her wide silken trousers were red as the heart of a cut pomegranate; yet shot with green and purple in the folds. Her tiny sandals were of white leather, ornamented with golden studs.

"O Isis! Mother of the Dog Star!" ...

She veiled herself at the sight of the stranger. The rich amber and crimson tints of her cheeks and lips, glowing through the diaphanous covering, suggested ripe nectarines in a dish of frosted crystal. Her long eyes, under their jetty brows, were luminous and beryl-green. The voice that issued from her scarlet lips was as the cooing of doves in the sycamores; as the gurgling of waters from the heart of a mossy hill, as she continued: shading her face with an amber-handled fan of red flamingo-feathers, and rocking with her quickened breaths the heavy necklace of huge pearls suspending an emerald talisman between her swelling breasts....

"Pardon, my lord! but you appeared so suddenly! And O, the gods!--being a woman unprotected--and this so wild and terrible a place--"

Hazaël knew that his aspect must be terrifying. But the perfume of roses that exhaled from the fair woman mounted to his brain in waves of dizziness. Hush! Again the doves were cooing:

"I am the wife of an Egyptian noble. We live across the Bay, at Arsinoë, but pass the vintage-months in our summer palace at Aënus. And--my lord is stricken in years and yet desires posterity!--" There was a dancing gleam of mockery in the sleepy beryl eyes. "We have visited the shrine of the god at Pannias, but alas!--without remedy. So my lord commanded me, poor me!--to seek out the dwelling of this Christian hermit, offer him rich gifts, and ask him to pray for us to The Crucified.... Indeed, to be rich and without heirs is sad for the poor old man, is it not? Yet am I to blame for this?" She reared her little head upon the rounded throat, and the beryl eyes blazed angrily. "No, by Hathor! My lord Makrisi has been young and handsome; even, dear stranger--" the feathers of her fan softly touched the cheek of Hazaël,--"as thou thyself! ... Now is he a withered branch. And"--she shrugged--"would even the fields of Egypt bring forth their abundance, without the fertilising waters of the Nile? ..."

Insensibly he had approached, his long, heavy footsteps setting the loose stones of the steep pathway sliding downwards. His bloodshot eyes were at the level of her scarlet lips, between which rows of milk-white teeth were gleaming; his bearded mouth was dangerously near the wooing fragrance of her bosom. She sighed, and warm sweet fragrance assailed his expanding nostrils, and caressed his parched temples and cheeks. And the heat of the morning sun was like the downward draught of a white-hot smelting furnace. And the dazzling blue above and behind her seemed to burn in azure flame....

"O speak again! ... Do not cease!" he heard himself croaking, as though the cool, sweet, gurgling voice had power to quench the thirst with which he burned. She laughed beautifully; and said, pointing with her fan to a great reed pannier with a carrying-strap, set within the shadow of a deep cleft or cave in the face of the porphyry rock:

"See how this surly Saint has treated me, a Princess of the house of Schabak! Look upon this basket of purple figs, and black grapes bursting with honeyed ripeness! and green melons with scarlet flesh dripping with cloying golden juice.... By Phthah! the weight is as much as my black slave Zet can bear, and this man would not even open the door of the ruined temple under the shadow of the dome of Derhor, where he dwells with the Lili and the Lilith--the bat and the screech-owl--and the great white eagles, and the falcons of the rock--or answer me a word. So I wept, I was so angered, and Zet wept also,--for to carry the pannier down the mountain was abominable to him. And when we heard you coming he set it down and ran away. And for this he shall be beaten with rods until the blood runs, when we return home. Why do you look at me so strangely, O Satrap? for I see by your mien that you are governor of a province, in Assyria or Persia possibly? Am I less fair than the women of your country? Have I no beauty in your sight?"

Hazaël answered in his thirst-cracked voice, with reddened eyes devouring her:

"O Princess! Even in dreams I have never beheld a woman to compare with thee! But--but--I am wedded. A fountain springs in the courtyard of my house, and a fruitful vine shadows my threshold; and as apples of gold in a network of silver, precious unto me is the love of my wife!"

He reeled as he spoke and clouds passed before his eyes as though the steam of the blood boiling in his veins had rushed into his brain-pan. Blindly he sought to push them away. And a soft small hand closed on his huge wrist, and his arm became powerless and fell across her shoulder. He swayed like a giant palm-tree whose trunk is sawn through. And with astonishing strength the Princess supported him, saying in that voice like the gurgle of cool waters:

"Thou art famished. Men unfed ever talk of virtue. There are other things in the pannier besides figs and melons and grapes. Rolls of Egyptian flour, white as snow and light as foam-flakes; and roasted quails in peppered jelly, wrapped in fresh green leaves. And meat-balls with spices, cheese-cakes and saffron-curds, and bottles of cool Nile water and also a flask or two of yellow Theban wine. Let us go into yonder cave and eat and drink together. When thou art refreshed, we will talk, or if thou wouldst--sleep!"

And the movement of her lips in framing such words as "eat," "drink" and "together," had infinite allurement, but less than "refreshed" and "sleep." Her utterance of these bewitched and bewildered. Hazaël felt as one smothering in roses, or sinking in the embrace of perfumed arms upon a bosom smooth and cool as silk. And realising in a flash his desperate predicament:

"O Lord my GOD!" he cried aloud, "look upon my shame and see my sorrow! From the evil impulse, from the evil companion: from Satan the Destroyer and from judgment, do Thou in Thy Mercy deliver me!"

Whereupon the Princess Schabak with a burst of high, whinnying laughter, skipped backwards,--and nimbly as a mountain goat--leaped upon a ledge of rock jutting from the cliff-face high above the level of the astonished Israelite's head. At the same time the pannier in the cave fell over and burst open, disgorging a cataract of repulsive creatures; vipers with horns, chameleons with popping eyes, lizards, tarantulas, scorpions and huge brown bats,--which flying round and round in the dazzling sunshine beat about Hazaël's ears with their leathery, hooked wings and entangled themselves in his hair. Deafened, appalled, exhausted and choked with thirst, heat and stench, he fell down swooning,--fortunately for his reason!--within the shadow of the cave....

When he revived, the rocky gorge was filled with the crimson of the sunset. The blazing heat had abated somewhat, the fresh smell of water came to his nostrils, and he groaned and opened his eyes. Then he cried out in thankfulness to God, Who had sent him water in his extremity,--for at the very back of the cave a thread of wet showed on the wall above a natural basin in the rock bordered with delicate black-stemmed green ferns, that contained a draught or two. As the cool liquid flowed down his dried throat; life revived in him newly. He ate of his bread, soaking it, and also took some dates.

Then he found his staff, went up the pass, and squeezed through the narrow aperture. The path now became little more than a goat-walk upon the barren mountain's flank.

A vast prospect spread about and beneath him, upon the right hand of the desert and the Nile beyond it:--with the islands, cities, gardens, palm-groves, temples; the distant cataracts, and the ranges of sandstone and syenite beyond the towns on the Libyan bank. Looking to the east his eye embraced Mount Serbal and the terrible splendour of Sinai, the Tih Mountains and Desert of Sin. Nearer, he looked down upon the Gulf of Heroöpolis,--the town at its mouth, and the city of Clysma upon the plain of the promontory, with the Wilderness of Etnam, and the Arabian Desert beyond.... North to Syria, bordered with the blue fillet of the Mediterranean, his glance ranged; and then with a cool breath fanning his brow, and stirring in the folds of his garments, he lifted up his eyes--and beheld the immense round summit of Mount Derhor, gleaming--white as though hoary with innumerable ages, touched with the fading rose of the sunset and crowned with the evening star. A vast tract of snow-white limestone, not level, but tilted at a steep angle, traversed with innumerable waved ridges, crevices and fissures and resembling a petrified cataract, spread between the traveller and the base of the stupendous dome. An irregular building, like a Pagan tomb or temple, partly in ruins, could be seen upon the dome's eastern side.

Desolation. Not a grass-blade, not a bush, nor tuft of wormwood found nourishment enough to sustain life in all that arid region. Yet here the Athlete of Christ had lived since he quitted Tabenna; eating every third day of dried bread--of which a store was left for him at the oasis every six months--moistening the flint-hard cakes with water fetched from the spring in a heavy stone jar. When the water in the jar came to an end too soon, according to the monks of Tabenna and the Coptish boatmen, the Blessed One would eat the snow if it were winter; or gather the dew,--soaking it up with linen rags, or that porous fungus that much resembles sponge. And these he would suck, to quench the thirst that tormented him, nor would he, were this relief withheld, descend the mountain to fetch more water, until the arrival of the appointed day.

Night fell. So close together and so deep were the fissures in the limestone, that Hazaël determined not to attempt to reach the hermitage until the rising of the moon. So he waited, seated upon a boulder; a strange, wild figure, dishevelled, scarred and bleeding; with battered weapons, and robes dusty and ragged; burning with impatience to do his errand and return to the oasis whilst strength remained to him....

Suddenly the Mount from its base to its summit was girt with sheaves of towering flame of strange and marvellous colours. At the same moment a tumult broke forth of indescribable and hellish violence. Awful voices thundered opprobrium, or wakened the echoes of the precipices and chasms with shouts of hideous laughter, answered by other invisible beings from the fissures in the plain.

"Filthy monk! Scourge of the desert! Master of wild asses! ... Preacher to lizards! ... Awaken! Rise and get you gone out of this place!" ...

"Ah! ... Ah!" ... other unseen beings wailed in chorus: "Shall we never be rid of thee, thou Dweller on the Threshold? Begone! Depart from us! ... Were not the desolate places given to us, and the lands wherein no water flows?" ...

A frightful voice bellowed:

"Drive him forth! Assault him! Torment him with serpents! Worry him with jackals and wild dogs! Borrow the beaks and claws of eagles! Bid the lions devour him! Or if the wild creatures refuse, send against him from the Shrine of Pan another furious Satyr! ... Beleaguer him with phantoms in myriads of forms!"

And dancing fires girt the dome, playing over the moveless waters of the stony cataract, and pale figures of wraith-like mistiness, and dark shapes of mountainous stature seemed to surround and hem it in. And suddenly these appearances sank down and vanished before the terror-stricken sight of Hazaël: with groans, and yells, and blasphemies that caused the hair to stiffen upon his head, and cold sweat to bathe his limbs.

A flood of brilliance dazzled his eyes. From the violet-purple vault of the sky, in which the hosts of heaven were now gleaming, a ray of Light, of indescribable whiteness and luminosity descended, seeming to pierce the roof of the ruined temple beneath Derhor's giant dome. And Hazaël heard the sound of a harp masterfully played, and a man's deep voice singing:

"Let GOD arise!
And let His enemies be scattered.
And let all those who hate Him flee
Before Him!
Let them be destroyed
Even as smoke is made to disappear;
And as wax melteth before the fire--
Let the wicked perish
Before GOD!"

When the psalm ceased the column of light faded into a mild bluish radiance that lingered still above the dwelling of the Saint. Such absolute stillness reigned that the sigh of the night-breeze, and the groan of a metal bolt in grooves of stone, came to Hazaël across the distance. A door swung inwards; a light--not supernatural, but that of a palm-torch,--shone across the threshold, and a voice, strong and mellow as that of a young man, cried down across the steep expanse of sinister shadows:

"O man of Alexandria, seeking here a sinner!--draw near if you desire to, and do not be afraid!"

Hearing, Hazaël rose from the rock he sat on, and cried back in a tone of wrath:

"I am not afraid, O Athlete of Christ!--if it be you who speak to me! But wisdom counsels not to ascend this steep of perilous abysses--at least until the rising of the moon!"

Before his voice had ceased to echo amongst the stony waves of the tilted sea of shadows, the strong melodious voice of the solitary called back:

"The crevices are deep, and strange things abide in them!--and there is peril as you say. Yet if in the Name of the Crucified you struck out boldly among these solid waters, nothing of harm would come to you. For neither earthly dangers nor the malevolence of devils, have terrors for one armed with the Might of the Cross."

Hazaël shouted back, with a dinning at his ear-drums:

"The Eternal One, who brought the Chosen forth of this land of Egypt,--will guide me safely to thy door! For it is written that He does not forsake the righteous. Have I not in the strength of mine uprightness this day prevailed against a Succuba? Lo! before me the accursed demon fled, showing feet like the split hoofs of goats."

The voice replied melodiously across the distance:

"Blessed and glorified be He Who delivered thee! Glorified and blessed be Christ Jesus, His only begotten Son! Glorified and blessed be the Paraclete, the Comforter! Praised, blessed and magnified be the Holy Trinity, One in Three! Amen!"

Panting with defiance Hazaël thundered:

"The Lord is One! He is holy and His Name is holy, and the Holy Ones praise Him every day! Selah! Blessed art Thou, Jehovah, the Shield of Abraham! And blessed is he who even as Rabba Jehudah, called the righteous, can lift up both his hands to heaven, affirming that not one of the ten fingers upon them, is guilty of breaking the law of God!"

He ceased, and the voice of the hermit answered, saying:

"Nay!--but a thousand times more blessed is he, who,--not daring to lift a finger,--falls down prostrate before his Master, crying: 'Lord, have mercy upon me a sinner!' For it is written that He pitieth the humble, and turns away His face from the arrogant."

Now the moon, in her last quarter, rose from over the Red Sea. The limestone cataract, illuminated, took on a milky whiteness, in which the innumerable cracks and chasms showed like wavy bands of black. Hazaël grasped his staff and strode upwards, confident that within so many minutes he would be pounding at the ascetic's doors. But a dark cloud, not often seen save in the rainy season, suddenly veiled the lustre of the planet, and the Jew found himself standing in pitchy darkness, upon an ascending ridge between two deep chasms, unable to advance, or to retrace his steps.

Suddenly a gust of wind rushed down a cleft in the mountains, dragging at Hazaël's garments as though with invisible hands. A jagged double flash of violet lightning followed. Dazzled, the Jew trod upon a pebble of limestone; fell--and still retaining his grip upon his staff, found himself sliding towards the brink of the abyss upon his left hand. A deafening peal of thunder preceded a flash still more vivid, which illuminated the depths beneath. With starting eyes Hazaël beheld at the bottom of the gulf--which seemed about to swallow him--the monstrous putrefying body of a creature part-human and part-animal. And the thought of tumbling down to wallow in the Satyr's corruption, and share one tomb with the shag-thighed offspring of unnatural and hideous lust, wrought on the brain of the man so that he shrieked in desperation:

"Save me, O man of Christ!--I perish!"

And heard the voice of the hermit answer calmly:

"Man cannot save, but only Christ!"

Upon which, as the lightning hissed and crackled about him like flights of spears steeped in burning pitch and naphtha, and feeling his strength about to fail, Hazaël groaned out:

"Then pray to thy Christ to deliver me!"

And hearing no answer out of the distance, he resigned himself to despair. But from some source unknown, strength suddenly flowed back into him. His brain cleared, and by a sudden muscular effort he was enabled to draw back his body, rise--and stand upon his feet....

"Thanks,--thanks!" he stammered out, as though to the owner of some hand that had plucked him from peril. Then, in sudden anger, he dug his teeth into his lower lip.

The storm had passed. The calm light of the moon irradiated the immovable cataract of limestone: the Jew traversed the remaining distance safely, and stood before the door of the recluse.