The Blue Flower [39]
fog
creeping up from the marshes to hide the hills. They glanced
at each other with looks of wonder and pity, as those who have
listened to incredible sayings, the story of a wild vision, or
the proposal of an impossible enterprise.
At last Tigranes said: "Artaban, this is a vain dream.
It comes from too much looking upon the stars and the
cherishing of lofty thoughts. It would be wiser to spend the
time in gathering money for the new fire-temple at Chala. No
king will ever rise from the broken race of Israel, and no end
will ever come to the eternal strife of light and darkness.
He who looks for it is a chaser of shadows. Farewell."
And another said: "Artaban, I have no knowledge of these
things, and my office as guardian of the royal treasure binds
me here. The quest is not for me. But if thou must follow
it, fare thee well."
And another said: "In my house there sleeps a new bride,
and I cannot leave her nor take her with me on this strange
journey. This quest is not for me. But may thy steps be
prospered wherever thou goest. So, farewell."
And another said: "I am ill and unfit for hardship, but
there is a man among my servants whom I will send with thee
when thou goest, to bring me word how thou farest."
So, one by one, they left the house of Artaban. But
Abgarus, the oldest and the one who loved him the best,
lingered after the others had gone, and said, gravely: "My
son, it may be that the light of truth is in this sign that
has appeared in the skies, and then it will surely lead to the
Prince and the mighty brightness. Or it may be that it is
only a shadow of the light, as Tigranes has said, and then he
who follows it will have a long pilgrimage and a fruitless
search. But it is better to follow even the shadow of the
best than to remain content with the worst. And those who
would see wonderful things must often be ready to travel
alone. I am too old for this journey, but my heart shall be
a companion of thy pilgrimage day and night, and I shall know
the end of thy quest. Go in peace."
Then Abgarus went out of the azure chamber with its silver
stars, and Artaban was left in solitude.
He gathered up the jewels and replaced them in his girdle.
For a long time he stood and watched the flame that flickered
and sank upon the altar. Then he crossed the hall, lifted the
heavy curtain, and passed out between the pillars of porphyry to
the terrace on the roof.
The shiver that runs through the earth ere she rouses from
her night-sleep had already begun, and the cool wind that
heralds the daybreak was drawing downward from the lofty
snow-traced ravines of Mount Orontes. Birds, half-awakened,
crept and chirped among the rustling leaves, and the smell of
ripened grapes came in brief wafts from the arbours.
Far over the eastern plain a white mist stretched like a
lake. But where the distant peaks of Zagros serrated the
western horizon the sky was clear. Jupiter and Saturn rolled
together like drops of lambent flame about to blend in one.
As Artaban watched them, a steel-blue spark was born out
of the darkness beneath, rounding itself with purple
splendours to a crimson sphere, and spiring upward through
rays of saffron and orange into a point of white radiance.
Tiny and infinitely remote, yet perfect in every part, it
pulsated in the enormous vault as if the three jewels in the
Magian's girdle had mingled and been transformed into a living
heart of light.
He bowed his head. He covered his brow with his hands.
"It is the sign," he said. "The King is coming, and I
will go to meet him."
II
All night long, Vasda, the swiftest of Artaban's horses, had
been waiting, saddled and bridled, in her stall, pawing the
ground impatiently, and shaking her bit as if she shared the
eagerness of her master's purpose, though she knew not its
meaning.
Before the birds had fully roused to their strong, high,
joyful chant of morning song, before the white mist had begun
to lift lazily from the plain, the Other Wise Man was
creeping up from the marshes to hide the hills. They glanced
at each other with looks of wonder and pity, as those who have
listened to incredible sayings, the story of a wild vision, or
the proposal of an impossible enterprise.
At last Tigranes said: "Artaban, this is a vain dream.
It comes from too much looking upon the stars and the
cherishing of lofty thoughts. It would be wiser to spend the
time in gathering money for the new fire-temple at Chala. No
king will ever rise from the broken race of Israel, and no end
will ever come to the eternal strife of light and darkness.
He who looks for it is a chaser of shadows. Farewell."
And another said: "Artaban, I have no knowledge of these
things, and my office as guardian of the royal treasure binds
me here. The quest is not for me. But if thou must follow
it, fare thee well."
And another said: "In my house there sleeps a new bride,
and I cannot leave her nor take her with me on this strange
journey. This quest is not for me. But may thy steps be
prospered wherever thou goest. So, farewell."
And another said: "I am ill and unfit for hardship, but
there is a man among my servants whom I will send with thee
when thou goest, to bring me word how thou farest."
So, one by one, they left the house of Artaban. But
Abgarus, the oldest and the one who loved him the best,
lingered after the others had gone, and said, gravely: "My
son, it may be that the light of truth is in this sign that
has appeared in the skies, and then it will surely lead to the
Prince and the mighty brightness. Or it may be that it is
only a shadow of the light, as Tigranes has said, and then he
who follows it will have a long pilgrimage and a fruitless
search. But it is better to follow even the shadow of the
best than to remain content with the worst. And those who
would see wonderful things must often be ready to travel
alone. I am too old for this journey, but my heart shall be
a companion of thy pilgrimage day and night, and I shall know
the end of thy quest. Go in peace."
Then Abgarus went out of the azure chamber with its silver
stars, and Artaban was left in solitude.
He gathered up the jewels and replaced them in his girdle.
For a long time he stood and watched the flame that flickered
and sank upon the altar. Then he crossed the hall, lifted the
heavy curtain, and passed out between the pillars of porphyry to
the terrace on the roof.
The shiver that runs through the earth ere she rouses from
her night-sleep had already begun, and the cool wind that
heralds the daybreak was drawing downward from the lofty
snow-traced ravines of Mount Orontes. Birds, half-awakened,
crept and chirped among the rustling leaves, and the smell of
ripened grapes came in brief wafts from the arbours.
Far over the eastern plain a white mist stretched like a
lake. But where the distant peaks of Zagros serrated the
western horizon the sky was clear. Jupiter and Saturn rolled
together like drops of lambent flame about to blend in one.
As Artaban watched them, a steel-blue spark was born out
of the darkness beneath, rounding itself with purple
splendours to a crimson sphere, and spiring upward through
rays of saffron and orange into a point of white radiance.
Tiny and infinitely remote, yet perfect in every part, it
pulsated in the enormous vault as if the three jewels in the
Magian's girdle had mingled and been transformed into a living
heart of light.
He bowed his head. He covered his brow with his hands.
"It is the sign," he said. "The King is coming, and I
will go to meet him."
II
All night long, Vasda, the swiftest of Artaban's horses, had
been waiting, saddled and bridled, in her stall, pawing the
ground impatiently, and shaking her bit as if she shared the
eagerness of her master's purpose, though she knew not its
meaning.
Before the birds had fully roused to their strong, high,
joyful chant of morning song, before the white mist had begun
to lift lazily from the plain, the Other Wise Man was