In the Guardianship of God Part 20

"See! how her soft feet kiss the marble floor! atma, the girl-queen, dancing to herself, close to the pool; the jasmine in her hair falling to fit the rhythm of her feet, and scent their warm life with the scent of death, or sail away upon the water's breast like mirrored stars. Oh, bind from them a crown; a crown for atma mata, who is kind--for atma, who hath struck her servant blind."

"Hark! how her voice comes whispering in my ear: 'I see naught but my own face in the deep. No other face but this--my face alone. And there are always stars about my head, or else the sun. Read me the riddle quick.' (There was a tremor in her perfumed hair which matched the tremor of her perfumed breath.) 'atma is queen,' I said; 'the stars, the sun, weave crowns as I do. Wear them. Oh! my queen.'

"O atma mata! rightly am I blind, Blind was I then in heart and soul and mind.

"Hark! how her voice comes echoing through the Hall. (The cold blue stones about her slender waist clipped all her purple robe to long straight folds.) 'Go tell your masters, atma needs no King. She is the Queen, her son shall be the King, and not the son to Kings of other lands. So if they seek for beauty, seek not mine--it is not mine to give--it is my son's! My son the G.o.ds will send me ere I die.'

"O atma mata! strike thy servant blind, He and his sons for ever, lest they find Thy face within the crown their fingers bind.

"See! how her slim hand grasps the marble throne. See! how her firm feet grip the marble step! Hark how her voice rings clear with angry scorn. (There was a loose gold circlet on her wrist, slid to soft resting as she raised her arm.) 'Oh! shame to brawl like dogs about a bone! Cowards to kill because a woman's fair. Can they not take the promise of a Queen? Go! bid your masters bind fair sons in peace. atma will choose a father for her King--she needs no lover.'

"O atma mata! strike thy servant dead.

"'Hus.h.!.+'--just a whisper on the water's edge, a faint glow from the sacred censer's fire. 'What dost thou see, my friend, down in the deep? There in the circle of the sacred flowers?' (The incense cloud rose white upon the dark, and hid us from each other, hid all things save water and our hands--her hands in mine clasped in the cold clear pool.) 'Naught, oh my Queen! Naught but thy face--thy face--beside mine own.' (Cold was the water, cold her little hand, cold was her voice.) 'Nay! more than that,' she said, 'thou dost forget the stars about my head.'

"O atma mata! strike thy servant blind, For being blind in heart and soul and mind.

"Hark! how her voice goes echoing through the Hall. 'Go, bid your masters sheathe their swords at once, nor spill men's blood because a woman's fair. For I have chosen. I will wed with none, but since G.o.d sends the children to the world and asks no questions how they come or why, I will take him as father to my King. The law allows adoption; be it so. From out G.o.d's children I have bought a son to be your King and mine. Lo! here he stands.' (Her arm about the st.u.r.dy, dimpled limbs drew the child closer to the cold blue stones clipping her purple robe to long, straight folds.) 'Some woman bore him--fair and strong and bold--bore him by G.o.d's decree to be a son. That is enough for me who am your Queen. Go, tell the brawlers, atma hath her King.' (So stooping, whispered softly to the boy, who straightway lisped to order parrot-wise.) 'Who hath a claim to-day 'gainst me or mine? Who hath a claim?' And as of old came answer: 'None, O King.'

"None said they all, and so I held my tongue.

O atma mata! shall I ever find Thy kind, wise face? Oh! wherefore am I blind?

"Hark! how her voice breaks in upon the child's. A claim at last.

"So they--these kings--have dared To kill my people--nay! not mine--my son's!

Have they no shame--no pity for the poor?

"The gold hem round her robe's straight virgin folds coiled like a snake asleep upon the floor, the sparkling jewel fastened on her breast shone bright and steady as a distant star.

"There was no tremor in her perfumed hair, there was no quiver in her perfumed breath; the cold blue stones about her throat and waist, the loose gold circlet on her slender wrist, the jasmine-blossom chaplet in her hair, looked as though carved in stone, so still she stood before the dead man on the marble floor.

"His red blood crept in curves to find her feet and clasp them in a claim for vengeance due, while those around cried 'Justice from the King!'

"Until she smiled--her small, kind face so wise, and her clear voice came echoing through the Hall. 'Vengeance is mine,' she said, 'and not the King's. Send forth no army, spill no blood for me. Search not the water-mirror for a sign. I know the answer of the sun and stars. So send our heralds out, and bid these Kings come as Kings should, and not as murderers to plead their cause before the King, my son. Come with all state as to a wedding feast, come with all hope as bridegrooms to the bride. My son shall choose my lover, so prepare all things in order--music, feasting, flowers.' (Then turned to where I stood, and said aside: 'Forget not thou to make a jasmine crown.')

"O atma mata! wherefore was I blind?

Did I not know how wise thou wert, how kind, How cold thy hand, how warm the heart behind?

"Fair, strong, and bold he stood, the little King; the noonday sun above the child's bare head scarce cast a shadow on his small, bare feet, standing so straight beside the water's edge, where, half afloat upon the clear, still depths, a small round raft of jasmine-blossoms lay ready to give the omen.

"Heaped so high, so piled with little scented stars, that I--her servant with the crown she had bespoke--stood wondering what need there was of all. And round about the mirror-pool in rank sat atma's lovers waiting the decree.

"Till suddenly the baby raised his hand. (There was a loose gold circlet on his wrist, which smote him on the breast as it fell back, making him wince, so all too large it was.) But the child bit his lip and took no heed, knowing his kingly part right royally; so, parrot-wise, he lisped the ordered words: 'My mother atma hath no need for love; since she hath mine. She hath no need, my lords, for you as lovers, but she sends by me, as sister sends her brothers, that which sure should heal the strife and make you brothers too.'

"So at the last he stooped, and with a push sent the flower-raft afloat upon the pool, dipping and dancing on the waves it made, so that the loose, white blossoms of the pile floated to drift like stars upon the depths, leaving what lay beneath them clear and cold.

"O atma mata! why was I not blind?

Thy face, thy face was there in flowers enshrined!

Thy cold dead face, with cold dead flowers entwined.

"O world she left! to bring it peace not war.

O world she left, forget not she was fair, So very fair. The jasmine in her hair And round her kind, wise face; about her throat The cold blue stones, and for her queenly crown The sunlight in the water--like the stars.

"O atma mata! strike thy servant blind, He and his sons for ever, lest they find Thy face within the wreath their fingers bind."

The old man's song ceased, but he went on without a pause. "The _Huzoor_ will hear that it is all about atma. Her name is there always."

He had finished stringing the flowers also, and now with a deft hand set the fragile garland--strung like a daisy chain upon a dead woman's hair and then tied to a circle--afloat upon the water, where it drifted idly, each separate flower separate, and keeping its appointed place.

A crown of scented stars!

I roused myself to answer. "Undoubtedly it is all about atma; but you have not told me why you weave the crown?"

"It is always woven, _Huzoor_," he replied. "Our family belongs to the place, and as one son is always blind, he stays at home--since he cannot earn money at other trades, _Huzoor_--and makes Mai atma's crown as his fathers did."

"One son is always blind?" I echoed curiously.

"Always, _Huzoor_. It is ever so. One is blind in each generation, so he makes Mai atma's crown."

_He and his sons for ever!_ a strange coincidence truly.

"Then no one has ever seen her face 'within the wreath their fingers twine'?" I asked, quoting the words involuntarily and forgetting that he could not understand them. He answered the first part of the sentence.

"How could that be, _Huzoor_, seeing we are always blind?"