Morn witnessed the dispersion to their respective quarters of governors and their levies; and before the shades of another evening had closed over the deep valley of the Airára, a breathless courier galloped through the palace-gates with the unlooked-for but welcome tidings, that the ladies of the royal harem had been discovered reposing unattended among the high fern and heather of the adjacent mountain side.
Again were the parchment faces of the wrinkled eunuchs radiant in sallow lustre. Three hundred mules were instantly dispatched for the conveyance of the truant flock to their fold; and at midnight the muffled damsels were consigned, amid the cracked exultations of attendants, to their wonted cages in the palace.
But the fair sister of Thavánan was not of the number, neither could any clue be obtained to her fate or condition. A small scroll had indeed been discovered on the turf, sealed and bearing the address of the ruler of Shoa—a gigantic glow-worm, attached by a single yellow hair to the envelope, having particularly attracted attention to that which it was conjectured might contain the desired information.
The curiosity of the king finally overcame the cautious scruples of the priesthood, who advised the immediate destruction of the missive. As the wax crumbled between his fingers, a roar of thunder shook the palace to its foundations, whilst a stream of black dust, pouring from the parchment to the table, gradually assumed the semblance of a pillar of sand agitated by the fierce whirl of the storm. A pungent odour impregnated the apartment, and the crackling sound of the devouring element was followed by the presence of the dread tormentor.
“I have come once again, monarch of the hard heart, to repay the debt which is still due, and, blasted like the much-injured Thavánan, thy soul may henceforward entertain some feeling of pity for thy fellow-men. Listen to thy doom. No mercy was shown unto me, and none shall be extended to thee. Thy son, after a short reign of terror, shall fall by the hand of a slave, and die cursing the author of his existence; and thy son’s son shall bear upon his disfigured countenance the searing mark of his ancestor’s cruelty. My face thou shalt see no more—Spirit of the flame, perform thy task.” A bright flash shot from the centre of the dark threatening column, and curled towards the king, a sickening sulphuric fume filling the presence chamber, and the necromancer vanished in the thick smoke.
Plunged for hours in a death-like stupor, Asfa Woosen was only aroused from his lethargy to bewail the loss of the left eye, which had been scorched in the socket by the contact of the fierce flame. The calamity greatly softened and influenced the actions of his after-life; and torture and mutilation grew gradually out of custom in the kingdom of Shoa.
During the reign of his grandson, the one-eyed Sáhela Selássie, there dwelt in a mossy cavern, among the recesses of the forest of Manték, a hermit of renowned sanctity. Father Peter was universally feared and beloved, but none knew from whence he derived food or nourishment. The skin of the agazin formed his humble garb, and a rude leathern girdle encircled his loins. His charms and amulets were never known to fail, and his language was not as that of other men. Crowds daily gathered round his cave in the rock to receive on their knees the benediction of the recluse; but no one had ever entered the cell, and few cared to pass it after nightfall. Moans and cries of agony then mingled with the midnight blast; and the sound of the scourge was often heard amid prayers for deliverance from the evil one.
On a fresh morning of May, when the roses and jessamine were scenting the dewy air, the wild flowers springing over the face of the green meadow, and birds warbled pleasantly amid the rich foliage, the peasants came as usual to listen to the words of other days, and to receive the blessing of the austere anchorite. But the accustomed seat was vacant, and no answer being returned to the voice of inquiry, the boldest entered the retreat. Curiously emblazoned scrolls and relics were strewed among the nooks and mouldy recesses of the damp grotto; the body of the venerable hermit was stretched in eternal slumber upon a bed of sharp stones; and the tale soon spread through the land that the holy Father Peter—now no more—was indeed the dread necromancer Thavánan, who had thus, by the continued penance of half a century, expiated his fierce act of apostasy.