The Sin of Zarpanit

Chapter Five

There was an altar at the far end of the rosy cabin. It was sown with luminous gems, with pearls and pale moonstones and curdled, milky crystals. From seven crystal basins before it seven little silver pale flames sprang. There was an alcove behind the altar, but the glare of the seven flames hid what might be within. Yet he had a swift sense of tenancy of that veiled alcove. Something dwelt within it; something living, but—yes, that was it—asleep! At the side was a low, wide divan of ivory inlaid with the milky crystals, patterned with golden arabesques. Silken tapestries fell from the walls, multi-colored, flower woven. Soft, deep silken rugs covered the cabin’s floor; and piles of cushions. At right, at left, low windows opened; through them streamed silver light. A bird flew upon the sill of one, a white bird with vermilion beak and feet and eyes of ruby. It scanned him; it preened itself; it cooed and flew away—

A dove of Ishtar!

Soft hands touched his. He gazed into the lovely face of the Lady Sharane, into eyes shadowed now with doubt.

“You are—Nabu’s messenger?” she asked. In the hardened voice he read suspicion, a rising anger—no ghost of fear. “Messenger you must be—” her voice was very low, more as though her thought found tongue than that she spoke to him. “Else how could you board the ship? But Messenger of Nabu—or messenger of—”

Her eyes suddenly blazed upon him—

“Nabu or—Nergal?”

“Lady of all loveliness!” Kenton’s tongue was loosed. “It may be that I am a messenger. But how sent, by whom sent—it may be that I know no more than you; except this—that it was never by command of the Lord of the Dead that I came!”

“You do not know!” she cried. “And yet if you came not from the Lord Nabu, why are you clad in his cloak and why carry you his sword? Many, many times have I seen them both in his shrine at Uruk—I am weary of the ship,” she whispered. “I would see Uruk and Babylon again! Ah, dearly, dearly do I long for Babylon!” Her voice deepened, mournfully. A tiny chill ran through Kenton.

“Lady,” he said. “In one way at least I am a messenger of Nabu. As you say, he is the Lord of Truth. I will speak only truth to you. Yet before you learn more of me, this must you do—tell me the story of this ship; how it came to sail upon this strange sea; and—where have vanished the Lady Zarpanit and that Alusar whom she loved.”

She shrank to the edge of the divan; fear enough now in her eyes.

“All that you must know,” she whispered. “If you know of—of them—you must know all. I do not understand—”

“Sharane,” he said, “it matters not at all whether you understand, nor whether your tale be twice told! I must hear it and from you! After that I will speak and you shall listen.”

She looked at him, doubtfully; searching the clear blue eyes bent steadily upon her. Then sank back upon the divan and beckoned him beside her. She drew close, laid a hand lightly upon his breast.

He felt his heart leap under the touch; she felt it, too, and moved a little from him, smiling; watching him through downcast, curving lashes. She drew her slender, sandaled feet beneath her; sat musing for a space, white hands clasped between rounded knees, eyes filled with dream. When she spoke her voice was low, her words half intoned.

“The sin of Zarpanit; the tale of her sin against Ishtar, Ishtar the Mighty; Mother of the Gods and of Men, Lady of the Heavens and of Earth—who loved her—even as daughter!”

She paused; and Kenton had an eerie thought that what had lain sleeping behind the seven altar lights had wakened and was listening; was listening and watching him; weighing him; measuring him! He had a sense of peril, of trespass within forbidden places, of trembling balances in which rested his destiny. For a heart beat unearthly fear shook him.

Sharane’s soft shoulder touched him—fear was forgotten in eyes’ delight of her exquisiteness, the sweet sorceries of her! And as his fear fled he knew that the beat of that pulse had swung the balance for him; that he had been measured.

For good or for ill he had been weighed by the hidden dweller in the candled shrine!

“High Priestess of Ishtar at her Great House in Uruk was Zarpanit.” Sharane’s eyes were veiled, her head bent. “Kadishtu, Holy One, was she. And I, Sharane, who came from Babylon, was next to her; her priestess; loved by her as she was loved by Ishtar. Through Zarpanit the Goddess counseled and warned, rewarded and punished, kings and men. In Zarpanit the Goddess became incorporate; dwelling in the house of her soul as in a temple; seeing through her eyes; speaking through her lips—so greatly did Ishtar love her!

“Now the temple in which we dwelt was named the House of the Seven Zones. In it was the Temple of Sin; God of Gods, who dwells in the Moon; of Shamash his son whose home is the Sun; of Nabu the Lord of Wisdom; of Ninib, the Lord of War; and of Nergal the Dark One, the Hornless, ruler of the dead; and of Bel Merodach, the mighty lord. But most of all was it the House of Ishtar, who by her sufferance let these others—all save Bel, who dwelt there of his own right—temple themselves within her holy home.

“From Cuthaw in the north, from the temple there which Dark Nergal ruled even as Ishtar ruled at Uruk, came a priest to sit over the Zone of Nergal in the House of the Seven Zones. His name was Alusar—and close as was Zarpanit to Ishtar, as close was he to the Lord of the Dead. Nergal made himself manifest through Alusar; spoke through him and dwelt at times within him even as did Ishtar within her Priestess Zarpanit. With Alusar came a retinue of priests and among them that black worm, that spawn of Nergal’s slime—Klaneth. And Klaneth was close to Alusar as I to Zarpanit—”

She raised her head, looked at him through narrowed eyes.

“I know you now,” she cried. “A little while ago you lay upon the ship and watched my strife with Klaneth! Now I know you—although then you were not dressed as now—and you vanished as I looked upon you!”

Kenton smiled at her.

“You lay with frightened face,” she said, “and stared at me through fearful eyes—and fled!”

Renewed suspicion rippled through the words. But over Kenton a sudden hot anger swept.

“Your eyes lied to you then!” he said. “It was no fault of mine that I fled. I, who returned as quickly as I could. Nor ever think again that my eyes will hold fear of you!” He gripped her hand, drew her close. “Look into them!” he bade her.

She looked—long; sighed and bent away; sighed once more and swayed toward him, languorously. His arms flew round her. She thrust him away.

“Enough!” she said. “I read no hasty script in new eyes. Yet I retract—you were not fearful! You fled not! Let be!”

Wholly withdrawn, gaze turned from him, she brooded.

“Between Ishtar and Nergal,” Sharane took up the interrupted tale, “is and ever must be unending strife and hatred. For Ishtar is Bestower of Life and Nergal is the Taker of Life, the King of Death; she is the Lover of Righteousness, and he is the Father of Evil. And how shall ever heaven and hell be linked; or life and death; or good and evil?

“Yet she,” the voice deepened, “Zarpanit, Kadishtu, the Holy One of Ishtar, her best beloved, did link all of these. Where she should have turned away—she looked with desire; where she should have hated—she loved!

“Yea—the Priestess of the Lady of the Heavens loved Alusar, Priest of the Lord of Death! Her love was a strong flame in whose light she could see only him—and him only. Had Zarpanit been the Lady Ishtar she would have gone to the Dwelling Place of the Lost for Alusar, even as did the goddess for her lover Tammuz—to draw him forth or to dwell there with him. Yea, even to dwell with him there in the cold darkness where the dead creep feebly, calling with the weak voices of birds. In the cold of Nergal’s abode, in the famine of Nergal’s domain, in the blackness of his city where the deepest shade of earth would be a ray of sun, Zarpanit would have been happy—knowing that she was with Alusar.

“So greatly did she love!”

Was there a stirring behind the pale altar flames? He strove to see; turned his gaze back to the Lady Sharane. If there had been movement she had not heeded it.

“I helped her in her love—for love of her,” she whispered. “But Klaneth, the Black Worm, crawled ever behind Alusar waiting for chance to betray and to creep into his place; yet Alusar trusted him. There came a night—”

She paused, the eyes that had been soft, tear-filled, were shadowed with memoried fear.

“There came a night when Alusar had crept to Zarpanit within her chamber. His arms were about her, hers around his neck; their lips together.

“Klaneth, I thought, watched at the outer door. I lay at the threshold of the inner—watching.”

Her eyes widened, her lips whitened, the whole lithe body quivered.

“And that night down came the Goddess Ishtar from her heavens to Zarpanit, entered and possessed her! And at that same instant from his dark city came Nergal and passed into Alusar!

“And in each other’s arms, looking into each other’s eyes, caught in the might of mortal love were heaven and hell! The Soul of Life and the Soul of Death!”

She shuddered and was silent and long moments crept by before again she spoke.

“Straightway those two mortal lovers who clasped were torn from each other. We were buffeted as by hurricanes; blinded by lightnings; thrown broken to the walls. And when we knew consciousness once more the priests and priestesses of the Seven Zones had us. All the sin was known! Yea, even though Ishtar and Nergal had not met that night still would the sin of Zarpanit and Alusar have been known—for Klaneth, whom we thought on guard had betrayed them, and crawled away and had brought down upon us the pack!

“Let Klaneth be cursed!” Sharane raised arms high, and the pulse of her hate lifted Kenton’s heart like a rushing wave. “Let Klaneth crawl blind and undying in the cold blackness of Nergal’s abode! But Goddess Ishtar! Wrathful Ishtar! Give him to me first that I may send him there as I would have him go!”