Chapter XVI
Even after Yasma and I had agreed, it was no easy matter to carry out our plans. We foresaw that most of the villagers would be unalterably prejudiced; that they would regard our union as impious; that Hamul-Kammesh would fan their opposition and refuse to perform the ceremony; that, even were we wedded, we should be in danger of living as outcasts, since in Sobul it was virtually necessary to secure the community's consent to a marriage.
After racking my brains for hours, I decided to consult Karem; and, accordingly, I went to him where he was working in the fields, and declared that I desired his advice on an important matter.
Karem seemed not at all surprised, but continued to plunge his spade methodically into the earth. "I shall help you—if I can," was all he said.
As calmly as I could, I explained about Yasma, emphasizing the need of having our relationship accepted in the village.
All the while that I was talking, Karem remained busy at his spade; yet his bronzed brow was ruffled with thought.
"You have not an easy fight to win," he reminded me, when I had finished. And he paused in his labors, and stood with one hand clutching the wooden spade-handle, and one hand meditatively propping up his chin. "Still, there must be ways. If you can only gain the favor of Hamul-Kammesh, the others will follow fast enough."
"Yes, but how gain the favor of Hamul-Kammesh? Certainly, he won't consent out of love for me. And I don't happen to have—well, anything valuable—"
"Oh, you shouldn't have to bribe him," interrupted Karem, reflectively. "You will only have to make him friendly out of self-defense. If he has to smile upon your marriage for the sake of his prestige, be sure he will smile his brightest."
"But how could my marriage affect his prestige?"
"We must, of course, strike at his most vital spots. And the most vital spots are his miracles, prophecies, and dreams.... Now do you see?"
"I'm afraid I don't."
"Hamul-Kammesh claims to be a great interpreter of dreams," continued my friend, with mounting enthusiasm, while the spade-handle dropped unheeded to the ground. "He is honored as much for his dream-readings as for his prophecies. Not only our own Hamul-Kammesh but all his ancestors for a hundred generations have been dream-readers. They have construed so many dreams that they have come to have a code; this applies to all the every-day dreams, and is known to the whole tribe. Thus, if you dream you are attacked by wild beasts, this means that evil spirits are abroad and disease will break out in the village. Or, if you dream of falling from a treetop, this means that someone will be stricken dead unless we propitiate Yulada. Or, again, if your dream is of comets or shooting stars, this is proof that the gods are conferring and a great leader is to be born among us."
"All very interesting!" I commented, beginning to see the light. "But just how does it concern us now?"
"I thought you would have guessed," declared Karem, with a tinge of disappointment. "Then consider this: if you dream that you see two white clouds, and the clouds travel side by side through blue skies, the explanation is that there is soon to be a marriage in the village. Now what if I were to dream about two such clouds?"
"Oh, so that's it!" I shot out, laughing heartily at Karem's naïve way of putting the idea. "So you can dream to order?"
"Why not? It has been done before."
"And you have often dreamed—"
"No, not I. If I had dreamed too often, the people might lose faith in me. As it is, I am not free to doubt the dreams of my friends. Why should they doubt mine?"
"Then how will you arrange things?"
Karem smiled a broad, knowing smile. "Oh, that will be as easy as burning dry straw. I will whisper to some of my friends about the two white clouds. But only in confidence. I will ask them not to let anyone know. Within a day or two, twenty people will come to Hamul-Kammesh secretly with the story of the dream. They will all want to know who's going to get married. That will make the soothsayer wrinkle up his brows, because none of our young people are to be married just now—most of our matings, you know, take place at the harvest time, when the year's labors are about over. Naturally, Hamul will look wise on hearing of the dream, and will make some prophecies, but at the same time he will be worried, because his reputation will be threatened. Then, just when he is hardest put to find a way out, I will see him and mention that you hope to marry my sister. This will give him his chance, and he will proclaim that your marriage to Yasma has been ordered by Yulada, and preparations must be made immediately."
"That sounds logical enough," I admitted. "But can the people all be duped so easily?"
"No, not all. But many can. And those who are not deceived will be too wise to seem to doubt."
My only reply was an ironic nod.
Four or five days after my talk with Karem, I received a visitor who had never favored me before. I had just returned from the fields after a strenuous day's labor, when I observed a tall, long-bearded man framed in the open doorway of my cabin. From his stiff demeanor, as well as from the high black headgear that added a foot to his stature, I recognized him as the soothsayer. Hence I lost no time about inviting him in.
"To what do I owe this honor?" I asked, trying to assume a tone of proper deference.
"My son, I would have a word with you," he began, in a ringing, pompous manner; while, remembering the native etiquette, I motioned him to a seat opposite me on the straw-covered floor.
"Yes, I have an announcement of importance," he continued, as he squatted cross-legged near the door. In the gathering twilight I could not quite make out the expression on his face; but I thought that a troubled look softened his habitual self-satisfaction.
"I shall be flattered!" I stated, bowing almost to the floor according to the local custom.
A silence intervened. Then the soothsayer coughed, cleared his throat, and slowly and with great dignity announced, "It is an extraordinary mission, my son, that brings me here. I come not of my own will, but as the messenger of higher powers. For the gaze of Yulada has alighted upon you, and she has taken pleasure in you and found you worthy, and has decided to bestow a favor upon you."
"A favor?" I echoed, trying to appear surprised. "What favor would Yulada bestow upon one so humble?"
"It is not for us to question the will of those on high," dogmatized the soothsayer, with a pious gesture toward the ceiling. "Nor must we rejoice too much in the moment's happiness, for dark secrets lurk behind the veil, dark secrets lurk behind the veil, and all may not be well hereafter!"
Hamul-Kammesh paused, as though he wished to allow this bit of wisdom time to seep in.
"What dark secrets do you refer to, worthy sire?" I asked, using the native form of address.
"It does not matter, my son. Let us pass them by!" he urged, with a grimace suggesting that he wished to be done with a distasteful topic. "Let us not be concerned with tomorrow's bitter draught till tomorrow is here. At present, we may consider only your good fortune. For Yulada has singled you out for rare good fortune."
"Indeed?"
"Indeed, my son! She has bidden you to smile upon a certain young maiden of our village, and has bidden that maiden to smile back upon you. Her name I need not mention, but it is the desire of Yulada that you woo this daughter of our tribe."
Upon hearing this announcement, I tried not to appear too jubilant.
"If it be the desire of Yulada," I acquiesced, in my most solemn tones, "then who am I to object? My own will is as nothing; I can only humbly offer my thanks, and accept whatever is granted."
"Your spirit does you great credit, young man," approved Hamul-Kammesh, as with a sigh of relief he arose to leave. "I am glad to find that you have a proper humility."
It was fortunate that the darkness was now so deep that the soothsayer could not see my face.
"There is only one thing more," Hamul-Kammesh announced, as he stood again in the doorway. "Yulada decrees that your nuptials take place very soon. Yes, she decrees them at the time of the next full-moon. You will be ready then, my son?"
"If Yulada decrees, I will be ready," said I, bowing my assent. And as the soothsayer went shuffling away through the lamplit village, I let my eyes travel to a crescent moon low-hanging above the western peaks.
But as I stood there gazing across the valley and meditating upon my good fortune, I was not so exultant as I might have been; it was as if a shadow had passed across my life instead of a happy promise. Now that all appeared to be arranged and my marriage to Yasma was inevitable, the haze of my emotions was momentarily rent; I saw with a dispassionate vision, and asked myself whether it was not insane to link myself to this child of a primitive mountain race. Was it not worse than insane, since she belonged to a tribe that possessed qualities scarcely human, a tribe that seemed akin to the wild goose and the dove? So I questioned, as I had questioned more than once in the past; but now, since the fateful event appeared imminent, my doubts were deeper than ever before, and my fears more acute.
Yet, as always, my hesitancies were whisked aside like dust when my mind framed a picture of Yasma, Yasma as she had radiantly flitted along the dim wooded lanes, Yasma as she had clung to me in a storm of sad emotion. And love, the blinding, all-powerful master, came as always to silence the protests of reason; I was flooded once more with tenderness and yearning, was held once more as in a magic mood; and the little remembered things Yasma had said, and the things Yasma had done, the dimpling smiles that played across her face and even the petulant frowns, her quaint little manner of nodding when happy, the puckish creasing of merriment about the corners of her lips, and the pitiful sadness of her half-closed tearful eyes, had all a part in weaving the halo that enveloped her.
And so it was useless to struggle, useless to seek to unravel that web which time and chance and my own passions had wound about me. Even had I known that Yasma and I were to be wedded and the next moment hurled together over a precipice, I would hardly have had the strength to check our fatal course. No! for the sake of my own peace of mind, as well as because dark and powerful forces were stirring within me, I would have had to yield to the enchantment and fuse the two fierce currents of our lives. And so profound was my longing for Yasma that, despite the moment's misgivings, it seemed that an incalculable epoch must pass before the crescent could expand into the full moon.