The House of Rimmon | Page 7

strong enemy will lay waste the land. Therefore
make peace with the Bull; Hearken to the voice of Rimmon.
[She turns again to the altar, and the priests close in around her.
REZON lifts his rod toward the tower of the temple. A flash of lightning
followed by thunder; smoke rises from the altar; all except NAAMAN
and RUAHMAH cover their faces. The circle of priests opens again,
and TSARPI comes forward slowly, chanting.]
CHANT: Hear the words of Rimmon! Thus your Maker speaketh: I, the
god of thunder, riding on the whirlwind, I, the god of lightning leaping
from the storm-cloud, I will smite with vengeance him who dares defy
me! He who leads Damascus into war with Asshur, Conquering or
conquered, bears my curse upon him. Surely shall my arrow strike his
heart in secret, Burn his flesh with fever, turn his blood to poison,
Brand him with corruption, drive him into darkness; He alone shall
perish, by the doom of Rimmon.
[All are terrified and look toward NAAMAN, shuddering. RUAHMAH
alone seems not to heed the curse, but stands with her eyes fixed on
NAAMAN.]
RUAHMAH: Be not afraid! There is a greater God Shall cover thee
with His almighty wings: Beneath his shield and buckler shalt thou
trust.
BENHADAD: Repent, my son, thou must not brave this curse.
NAAMAN: My King, there is no curse as terrible As that which lights
a bosom-fire for him Who gives away his honour, to prolong A craven
life whose every breath is shame! If I betray the men who follow me,
The city that has put her trust in me, The country to whose service I am
bound, What king can shield me from my own deep scorn, What god
release me from that self-made hell? The tender mercies of Assyria I
know; and they are cruel as creeping tigers. Give up Damascus, and her
streets will run Rivers of innocent blood; the city's heart, That mighty,
labouring heart, wounded and crushed Beneath the brutal hooves of the
wild Bull, Will cry against her captain, sitting safe Among the nobles,

in some pleasant place. I shall be safe,--safe from the threatened wrath
Of unknown gods, but damned forever by The men I know,--that is the
curse I fear.
BENHADAD: Speak not so high, my son. Must we not bow Our heads
before the sovereignties of heaven? The unseen rulers are Divine.
NAAMAN; O King, I am unlearned in the lore of priests; Yet well I
know that there are hidden powers About us, working mortal weal and
woe Beyond the force of mortal to control. And if these powers appear
in love and truth, I think they must be gods, and worship them. But if
their secret will is manifest In blind decrees of sheer omnipotence, That
punish where no fault is found, and smite The poor with undeserved
calamity, And pierce the undefended in the dark With arrows of
injustice, and foredoom The innocent to burn in endless pain, I will not
call this fierce almightiness Divine. Though I must bear, with every
man, The burden of my life ordained, I'll keep My soul unterrified, and
tread the path Of truth and honour with a steady heart! But if I err in
this; and if there be Divinities whose will is cruel, unjust, Capricious
and supreme, I will forswear The favour of these gods, and take my
part With man to suffer and for man to die. Have ye not heard, my lords?
The oracle Proclaims to me, to me alone, the doom Of vengeance if I
lead the army out. "Conquered or conquering!" I grip that chance!
Damascus free, her foes all beaten back, The people saved from slavery,
the King Upheld in honour on his ancient throne,-- O what's the cost of
this? I'll gladly pay Whatever gods there be, whatever price They ask
for this one victory. Give me This gilded sign of shame to carry back;
I'll shake it in the face of Asshur's king, And break it on his teeth.
BENHADAD: [Rising.] Then go, my never-beaten captain, go! And
may the powers that hear thy solemn vow Forgive thy rashness for
Damascus' sake, Prosper thy fighting, and remit thy pledge.
REZON: [Standing beside the altar.] The pledge, O King, this man
must seal his pledge At Rimmon's altar. He must take the cup Of
soldier-sacrament, and bind himself By thrice-performed libation to
abide The fate he has invoked.

NAAMAN: [Slowly.] And so I will.
[He comes down the steps, toward the altar, where REZON is filling the
cup which TSARPI holds. RUAHMAH throws herself before NAAMAN,
clasping his knees.]
RUAHMAH: [Passionately and wildly.] My lord, I do beseech you,
stay! There's death Within that cup. It is an offering To devils. See, the
wine blazes