The Story of the Other Wise Man | Page 2

richness of their dress of many-colored silks, and in the massive golden
collars around their necks, marking them as Parthian nobles, and in the
winged circles of gold resting upon their breasts, the sign of the
followers of Zoroaster.
They took their places around a small black altar at the end of the room,
where a tiny flame was burning. Artaban, standing beside it, and
waving a barsom of thin tamarisk branches above the fire, fed it with
dry sticks of pine and fragrant oils. Then he began the ancient chant of
the Yasna, and the voices of his companions joined in the beautiful
hymn to Ahura-Mazda:
We worship the Spirit Divine, all wisdom and goodness possessing,
Surrounded by Holy Immortals, the givers of bounty and blessing, We
joy in the works of His hands, His truth and His power confessing.
We praise all the things that are pure, for these are His only Creation;
The thoughts that are true, and the words and deeds that have won
approbation; These are supported by Him and for these we make
adoration.
Hear us, O Mazda! Thou livest in truth and in heavenly gladness;
Cleanse us from falsehood, and keep us from evil and bondage to
badness; Pour out the light and the joy of Thy life on our darkness and
sadness.
Shine on our gardens and fields, Shine on our working and weaving;
Shine on the whole race of man, Believing and unbelieving; Shine on

us now through the night, Shine on us now in Thy might, The flame of
our holy love and the song of our worship receiving.
The fire rose with the chant, throbbing as if it were made of musical
flame, until it cast a bright illumination through the whole apartment,
revealing its simplicity and splendor.
The floor was laid with tiles of dark blue veined with white; pilasters of
twisted silver stood out against the blue walls; the clearstory of
round-arched windows above them was hung with azure silk; the
vaulted ceiling was a pavement of sapphires, like the body of heaven in
its clearness, sown with silver stars. From the four corners of the roof
hung four golden magic-wheels, called the tongues of the gods. At the
eastern end, behind the altar, there were two dark-red pillars of
porphyry; above them a lintel of the same stone, on which was carved
the figure of a winged archer, with his arrow set to the string and his
bow drawn.
The doorway between the pillars, which opened upon the terrace of the
roof, was covered with a heavy curtain of the color of a ripe
pomegranate, embroidered with innumerable golden rays shooting
upward from the floor. In effect the room was like a quiet, starry night,
all azure and silver, flushed in the east with rosy promise of the dawn.
It was, as the house of a man should be, an expression of the character
and spirit of the master.
He turned to his friends when the song was ended, and invited them to
be seated on the divan at the western end of the room.
"You have come to-night," said he, looking around the circle, "at my
call, as the faithful scholars of Zoroaster, to renew your worship and
rekindle your faith in the God of Purity, even as this fire has been
rekindled on the altar. We worship not the fire, but Him of whom it is
the chosen symbol, because it is the purest of all created things. It
speaks to us of one who is Light and Truth. Is it not so, my father?"
"It is well said, my son," answered the venerable Abgarus. "The
enlightened are never idolaters. They lift the veil of the form and go in

to the shrine of the reality, and new light and truth are coming to them
continually through the old symbols."
"Hear me, then, my father and my friends," said Artaban, very quietly,
"while I tell you of the new light and truth that have come to me
through the most ancient of all signs. We have searched the secrets of
nature together, and studied the healing virtues of water and fire and the
plants. We have read also the books of prophecy in which the future is
dimly foretold in words that are hard to understand. But the highest of
all learning is the knowledge of the stars. To trace their courses is to
untangle the threads of the mystery of life from the beginning to the
end. If we could follow them perfectly, nothing would be hidden from
us. But is not our knowledge of them still incomplete? Are there not
many stars still beyond our horizon--lights that are known only to the
dwellers in the far south-land, among the spice-trees of Punt and the