CHAPTER XXVII.
Layah was fully persuaded of the determination of her mistress to destroy herself, and, notwithstanding Zillah's commands to the contrary, was resolved to imitate her heroic example. This purpose was strengthened by her fears of Rubaal's vengeance upon her in the event of Zillah's suicide. Her handmaiden would be suspected of collusion with the unhappy lady, and certainly be charged with a criminal neglect in allowing such a deed. Her penalty would be death, unless Rubaal and the priests invented for her something worse—sale for the ship-harem of some rude sea-captain, transportation to the tin-mines of the Cassiterides, or physical torture in some prison. In contrast with such possibilities, her mind became fascinated with the idea of standing erect, raising her arm adorned with the wristlet which her mistress had given her, striking the sharp blade into her breast just beneath the heavy pendants of the necklace that Zillah had worn, and falling dead by her side—a brave self-sacrifice to her love for her mistress and her fidelity to the royal house of Tyre.
The two women went together to the shambles of Astarte, both closely covered with the long veil, which concealed their faces and forms. No word passed between them, except Zillah's repetition of the oft-said vow: "The dagger before the stranger!"
At the shambles they stood a moment in endearing embrace, then silently separated. Zillah entered the booth designated by the insignia of the house of Ahimelek. Layah entered another adjacent, which communicated with that of her mistress; an arrangement which allowed the toilet service of a maid without apparent intrusion.
The day passed. The general reverence for the person of the betrothed of the now deified Hiram, together with the awe that was felt for the person of one who was to be a priestess of Astarte, restrained the most wanton from approaching Zillah's retreat.
Night shadows had already climbed the precipitous sides of the valley, crowding the sunlight before them, until the day gleamed only in the tops of the tall pines that fringed the crest and seemed to mingle with the sky.
The priests had noted the immunity of Zillah's apartment; that no one had approached it. They were concerned about the issue. A group of several strangers had been observed during most of the day sauntering about the temple court. These were approached by the priests, who evidently offered them money to assist in the accomplishment of the rite. After a few moments of apparent entreaty with them one of their number said, "I will go;" and, stepping from the group, walked to the apartment.
"Handsome enough for Adonis himself!" observed a priest.
"How the eyes of Rubaal would turn green to see him!" rejoined another.
"He looks like a Jew," said a third.
"That cannot be," replied the first speaker, "or he would have bargained with us for a heavier price upon his service."
The strange man approached the curtain of the apartment and hesitatingly drew it aside.
Zillah sprang to her feet. She was clad in the white robe of a priestess of Astarte. One who believed that Hiram had entered the estate of the gods would have declared that Astarte had herself entered the person of this woman. Her look was superhuman. An unearthly passion burned in her eyes. Her whole frame seemed to glow with the radiation of her soul, as a lantern globe with the light that is centred in, but not contained by, it. Her attitude, as she retreated a few steps to the rear of the little room, was majesty itself. Her jewelled hand held a dagger at her breast. She pressed it until the blood trickled beneath its gleaming edge, but, in the ecstasy of her mental mood, she was evidently unconscious of pain.
The man raised his hands in entreaty against the intended deed. He stepped towards her. She retreated farther, and stopped his approach by the very spell of her gesture as she raised her left hand and bade him stand. He tried to speak, but she silenced him by her words:
"Go! tell the priests that I offer myself to my Adonai Hiram, whose spirit calls me."
A look of agonizing terror came upon the intruder. He hastily threw back his outer garment, and pointed, speechless with excitement, to his own breast. Upon his white chiton glowed a ring of crimson.
Zillah's dagger fell from her hand.
"The circle!" she cried, and dropped into a swoon.
A slight scream as of an echo to Zillah's cry rang from the adjoining apartment of Layah. It was a tone of mingled determination and pain, shrill, brief, and followed by the sound of one falling to the ground.
Silently the man waited. At length Zillah raised her head. She gazed around her in a daze.
"He is not here, my lord! my Hiram!"
Seeing the man, she added: "O cruel dream!" and reached for the dagger that lay on the ground beside her.
The man seized it first. The action fully aroused her to the reality of her position.
For a moment the two stared at each other in mutual perplexity. They were parts of an enigma which neither understood, though each held a portion of the clew.
Zillah was the first to break the silence.
"What is your message to me by the mark of the circle?"
"You know its meaning better than I," rejoined the stranger, bowing in profound respect.
"Am I to go with you?"
"I am to do your bidding, my lady."
The man made obeisance, touching the ground with his forehead. "My life is pledged to bring you to him who wrought the symbol on my breast."
"And he?"
"Marduk, of Tyre."
"I know none such. Is he not Hanno, the priest?"
"I only know him as Marduk, the merchant of Tyre."
"Tall, with shaved head, and eyes full of subtle wisdom?"
"No. Of my own stature, with hair black as the raven's; of open face. His beard conceals a scar of a wound received in fight."
"A scar! Is he a man? Is he not a god?"
"More godlike than any god of the Phœnicians; yet a man, indeed."
Zillah sat motionless, her head pressed against her hand in deep thought.
"I cannot understand it," she said, at length. "Mystery! mystery! Oh, I do not know—I cannot see!" and she stared into the shadows as one walking in sleep.
"Nor I, my lady. I only know that I am here to obey you. Command me!"
"And I will obey the sign," said Zillah. "Let me look upon it again. 'Tis a circle, surely; and 'tis blood-red. I must follow it."
"And follow me?"
"Yes—to him! to him!"
"Let me leave you, then, my lady. You will know my face or my voice; for I must let no eyes but yours look upon the symbol. To-night I will be beside the pavilion. Another will accompany me whom you may trust, for we both serve a man we love; one to whom we have vowed secrecy and service."
"Before what god have you vowed?"
"Before no god, but by all that is meant by man's honor. And, by all that is meant"—he paused before he added—"by all that is meant by the sanctity of womanhood. I swear by the life I have saved this hour—and I know of nothing more sacred, since what I have witnessed—I swear that no harm shall come to you. If mistake has happened in the person of her I seek, or in him you seek, I swear by your own life to return with you to your father's house. Can I do more?"
"I will follow the mark of the circle wherever it may lead," said Zillah.
The stranger withdrew from the apartment. The priests met him without. They led him to the clerk of the temple, before whom he took the oath that the sacrifice to Astarte had been rendered.
Zillah sought the adjacent apartment of Layah. Upon the ground lay the prostrate form of the girl. A pool of blood told the story of her sacrifice, not to Astarte, but to friendship; to that love of woman for woman, holier than the debauched heathenism of the world ever conceived or tried to express through its rituals.
Zillah flung herself upon the body: "It is too much! too much! O my Layah! my sister! my mother! speak to me!" She kissed the silent lips, that seemed to smile at the touch, and gave into hers the last lingering warmth that had been life.
Scarcely knowing what she did, she took up the dead girl's veil and ran from the apartment; not through her own, but directly into the court. With stumbling feet she sought her pavilion.
"There goes her handmaid," said a priest.
"A graceful shape, which the veil cannot hide. The new priestess will come out soon," said another.