The House of Rimmon | Page 8

like fire, It flows like blood, it is a cursed cup, Fulfilled of
treachery and hate. Dear master, noble master, touch it not!
NAAMAN: Poor maid, thy brain is still distraught. Fear not But let me
go! Here, treat her tenderly!
[Gives her into the hands of SABALLIDIN.]
Can harm befall me from the wife who bears My name? I take the cup
of fate from her. I greet the unknown powers; [Pours libation.] I will
perform my vow; [Again.] I will abide my fate; [Again.] I pledge my
life to keep Damascus free.
[He drains the cup, and lets it fall.]
CURTAIN.

ACT II
TIME: A week later
The fore-court of the House of Rimmon. At the back the broad steps
and double doors of the shrine: above them the tower of the god, its
summit invisible. Enter various groups of citizens, talking, laughing,
shouting: RAKHAZ, HAZAEL, SHUMAKIM and others.
FIRST CITIZEN: Great news, glorious news, the Assyrians are beaten!
SECOND CITIZEN: Naaman is returning, crowned with victory. Glory

to our noble captain!
THIRD CITIZEN: No, he is killed. I had it from one of the
camp-followers who saw him fall at the head of the battle. They are
bringing his body to bury it with honour. O sorrowful victory!
RAKHAZ; Peace, my good fellows, you are ignorant, you have not
been rightly informed, I will misinform you. The accounts of Naaman's
death are overdrawn. He was killed, but his life has been preserved.
One of his wounds was mortal, but the other three were curable, and by
these the physicians have saved him.
SHUMAKIM: [Balancing himself before RAKHAZ in pretended
admiration.] O wonderful! Most admirable logic! One mortal, and
three curable, therefore he must recover as it were, by three to one.
Rakhaz, do you know that you are a marvelous man?
RAKHAZ: Yes, I know it, but I make no boast of my knowledge.
SHUMAKIM: Too modest, for in knowing this you know what is
unknown to any other in Damascus!
[Enter, from the right, SABALLIDIN in armour: from the left, TSARPI
with her attendants, among whom is RUAHMAH.]
HAZAEL: Here is Saballidin, we'll question him; He was enflamed by
Naaman's fiery words, And rode with him to battle. Good, my lord, We
hail you as a herald of the fight You helped to win. Give us authentic
news Of your great general! Is he safe and well? When will he come?
Or will he come at all?
[All gather around him, listening eagerly.]
SABALLIDIN: He comes but now, returning from the field Where he
hath gained a crown of deathless fame! Three times he led the charge;
three times he fell Wounded, and the Assyrians beat us back. Yet every
wound was but a spur to urge His valour onward. In the last attack He
rode before us as the crested wave That heads the flood; and lo, our

enemies Were broken like a dam of river-reeds, Burst by the torrent,
scattered, swept away! But look! the Assyrian king in wavering flight
Is lodged like driftwood on a little hill, Encircled by his guard, and
stands at bay. Then Naaman, followed hotly by a score Of whirlwind
riders, hammers through the hedge Of spearmen, brandishing the
golden yoke: "Take back this gift," he cries; and shatters it On
Shalmaneser's helmet. So the fight Dissolves in universal rout: the king,
His chariots and his horsemen melt away; Our captain stands the
master of the field, And saviour of Damascus! Now he brings, First to
the king, report of this great triumph.
[Shouts of joy and applause.]
RUAHMAH: [Coming close to SABALLIDIN,] But what of him who
won it? Fares he well? My mistress would receive some word of him.
SABALLIDIN: Hath she not heard?
RUAHMAH: But one brief message came: A tablet saying, "We have
fought and conquered," No word of his own person. Fares he well?
SABALLIDIN: Alas, most ill! For he is like a man Consumed by some
strange sickness: wasted, wan,-- His eyes are dimmed so that scarce can
see; His ears are dulled; his fearless face is pale As one who walks to
meet a certain doom Yet will not flinch. It is most pitiful,-- But you
shall see.
RUAHMAH: Yea, we shall see a man Who took upon himself his
country's burden, dared To hazard all to save the poor and helpless; A
man who bears the wrath of evil powers Unknown, and pays the hero's
sacrifice.
[Enter BENHADAD with courtiers.]
BENHADAD: Where is my faithful servant Naaman, The captain of
my host?
SABALLIDIN: My lord, he comes.

[Trumpet sounds. Enter company of soldiers in armour. Then four
soldiers bearing captured standards of Asshur. NAAMAN follows, very
pale, armour dinted and stained; he is blind, and guides himself by
cords from the standards on