Chapter XV: Zeydon and the Children

To the countless years of Ento’s existence another year added itself, and for its children it was a year full to repletion with joy and sorrow, which ever are close comrades. In the wake of the tempest death had gathered a plenteous harvest, leaving in the minds and hearts of the survivors griefs which could end only when they too should be called into the Silence. Throughout the devastated district the work of restoration was in active progress. Northward from Lēonita Tylû the massive walls of the new Moûtsen ken a̤va̤ outlined themselves against the horizon, and ere long a stately and spacious structure would replace the ruin, which was all that was left of the tempest-wrecked Litzen Rinda̤. The beautiful Temple Residence neared completion, and a little later it was presented to the High Priest Zeydon as a love offering from his people.

Yes, certainly it was Zeydon, who with tremulous voice and most gracious speech made to his people grateful acknowledgment of their munificent kindness to him, but Zeydon so changed in appearance and demeanor as to be a most pleasing reminder of his former arrogant and unloveable self.

My readers will understand that it was not until some years after Zeydon’s death that any one save the Nyassa̤s and those connected with the deplorable affair became aware of the secret of his unhappy life, and not until now have its tragic features been made known. So to all who knew him it was a source of constant wonder as to how greatly the high priest was changed. Previous to his illness he had ever been feared and servilely obeyed; but since his recovery his gentle beneficence, his self-abnegation and his evident interest in the welfare of his people, called forth fullest responses of loving reverence; and when after years of usefulness as counsellor and comforter of those in his charge he suddenly passed into the Silence their minds and hearts were filled with tender regret and a sense of personal loss. Mûen elipsa̤ (six Ento years) previous to that sad event he united in holy marriage Invāloû and Frona̤. It was on the second anniversary of the tempest which so nearly destroyed Frona̤’s life that he pronounced them husband and wife. The marriage was celebrated in Yaffa a lûytos where as children Invāloû and Frona̤ had served as offering bearers; and the numerous guests who witnessed the ceremony long remembered with a sense of awe that as the high priest drew together the trembling hands of the groom and bride, into his upraised eyes and face came a strange, exalted, glorified expression. As in fervent tones he entreated Andûmana̤ and the Deific Ones to bless and protect them until the closing of their lives, his manner was that of one communing with the gods.

At Amâtûta̤ and Koidassa̤ Invāloû and Frona̤ were equally at home as was also Oûman Mitsa̤ who made Frona̤ his legalized heiress and upon whom he lavished the affection of a parent for a dearly beloved daughter. Between the two estates which nearly adjoined each other, there was constant interchange of hospitality, and through years of unbroken happiness the shadows of past sorrows grew so dim that at times the participants in the tragedy which had so nearly wrecked their lives were able to wholly forgive and partly to forget.

The years passed. To Invāloû and Frona̤ came two children, a boy and a girl, counterparts of their parents. Zeydon, the firstborn, a sturdy lad strong and lithe as a young Feltah (resembles a deer) and the image of his dark skinned, superbly handsome father became as hands and feet to the prematurely aged high priest who after Inva̤loû and Frona̤'s union passed at will, to and fro, between the Temple Residence and Koidassa̤ which to the lonely man had become a second home. Always a welcome and honored guest, his greatest happiness was with the children, whom with scrupulous care he instructed in the mysteries of our holy religion. They in turn came to regard him as a special protector to whom on all occasions of childish discontent or perplexity they appealed as to an indisputable authority.

Zeydona̤, the girl, fair and graceful as a Rodel bud swaying upon the bosom of some rippling lake, was as the very light of his adoring eyes and the life of his loving heart in which he enshrined her as a jewel beyond price.

To some critical minds it may appear strange that both or either of the children were given the name of one who had brought into the lives of their parents and grandparents such immeasurable misery. A fragment of a family council may lead to enlightenment.

About Frona̤’s couch were grouped Oûman Mitsa̤, Lûvon, Tillēne, Damma̤ and Avānna̤, while with a most perplexed expression of countenance Invāloû paced to and fro pausing occasionally in his promenade to offer a suggestion to which the assemblage turned deaf ears. A boy child who from the embracing arms of Avānna̤ regarded with the gravity ever present in the eyes of infants the somewhat excited group was the subject under consideration.

For the infant numberless names had been proposed and promptly rejected and the thirty day-old heir of the Nyassa̤s bade fair to go nameless, when Frona̤, who hitherto had taken no part in the discussion, with the decision of a proud young mother, announced that she had selected a name for her son.

“That we may show to the Deific Ones,” she said; “that we forgive as we all desire to be forgiven, and to——to——the high priest that we no longer regard him as aught but a trusted and beloved friend, the boy shall be named Zeydon Invāloû.”

For a little this declaration so astounded her hearers that no one uttered a word, then simultaneously there was vociferous and unanimous approval of her choice, and at once the infant's name was recorded as Zeydon Inva̤loû Nyassa̤.

Ere the commotion over Frona̤'s decision was at an end the high priest was announced and was made acquainted with the new Zeydon whom he took into his arms and blessed with such fervor that his and the eyes of those who reverently joined in the Ra̤û, Ra̤û, Ra̤û of his earnest prayer to the Deific Ones were wet with tears of tenderest emotion expressing more forcibly than speech that priest and participants in the little ceremony had grown to be of one mind and one heart.

Two years later the infant girl arrived, and Inva̤loû claimed the right to name her. The thought of all was that the name of the child would be Frona̤ Tillēne, or Frona̤ Avānna̤, so they were greatly amazed when with shining eyes and face aglow with emotion he took the child into his arms, saying: "To further show our gratitude to Andûmana̤, the Creator who hath given into our keeping another child of His and our love and to the gracious gods whose protection hath so blest the union of this dear spouse and myself, and”—In answer to Frona̤’s out-reaching hands, entreating eyes and tremulous lips, he paused to kiss her lovely face into smiles. Then he proceeded: “As I was about to say,—to also assure our high priest that as a dear counsellor, guide and more than friend he stands pre-eminent in our affectionate regard, I propose that this second Frona̤ who in her infantile features repeats the incomparable charms of her adorable mother, shall be named Frona̤ Zeydona̤.”

This announcement so surprised Frona̤ and the grandparents that they only could look their astonishment. As for Oûman Mitsa̤, the calm and complacent expression of his countenance afforded ground for suspicion that he had been taken into Inva̤loû’s confidence. It was but for an instant that the silence remained unbroken. Then with much enthusiasm all concerned declared that it was the fittest and prettiest of all names.

Zeydon who had been invited to be present on this notable occasion and who appeared to be overcome by this added demonstration of goodwill, with an air of timidity approached and took from Inva̤loû’s arms the cooing, flower-like creature whose golden hair clung in tiny ringlets to its fair forehead and whose empurpled eyes gazed into his with the peculiar expression of the newly created. After one strange, searching glance into the child's face he stood with closed eyes and prayed but no word issued from his lips. They, who with reverent awe, looked upon the rapt face of the high priest thought that they understood. And when with whitened lips he touched the forehead of the smiling infant and laid it gently in the arms of its tearful mother, and with a silent inclination of his whitened head to all, left the room and returned to his lonely home, they thought that they understood. Did they? I believe not. Only the pitying and all-knowing Creator and His special messengers, the Deific Ones, could have understood the man who in the Inner Sanctuary of Yaffa and Lûytos knelt the night through praying a wordless prayer. And when in the gray of dawn the Sanctuary God Soima̤, softly whispered: "I have watched with thee; despair not. When thy suffering shall have equalled thy sinning, peace will abide in thy heart," Zeydon, humbly answered, "May it be so."

It was a graceful and gracious act, the naming of the infant daughter Zeydona̤; and to my mind in no other way could the chasm, which for so long had yawned between the high priest and the Nyassa̤s, have been so completely bridged over. It was to Zeydon a full assurance that for the wrongs and wretchedness he had inflicted upon these admirable persons, he was entirely forgiven. Could he have so freely and fully forgiven himself, he would have escaped years of self-accusation and bitter humiliation, which, ere he passed into the Silence, purified and exalted his nature to a degree seldom attained by Andûmana̤'s sinful children.

The conclusion of a story, especially of a true story, as Records of the Most High Priest Moûkara, of the High Priest Zeydon, and of Oûman Mitsa̤ and others declare this to be, is to me as sad as taking leave of those one loves and leaves forever; and I confess that as my pen traces these closing lines my heart beats but faintly and I shrink from writing the last word as I might shrink from the thrust of a knife. As the end is inevitable I shall afford you, my readers and myself one more glimpse of the dear ones of Koidassa̤, of Amâtûta̤ and of the High Priest Zeydon.

Across the Temple garden the last beams of Dia̤fon ēvoiha̤ glanced in rays of golden light. From the great open doorway of the Temple Residence the High Priest with a smile on his face and an expectant look in his fine eyes goes hastily towards Koidassa̤. Now he pauses and in a clear musical voice calls: "Zeydona̤, Zeydona̤," and in a listening attitude waits. He does not pause long for, like a flash of light two swiftly flying feet carry a golden-haired, purple-eyed, Frona̤ to his eagerly outreaching arms; and as he catches her up to his breast he murmurs: "So like thy mother, so like thy mother," my little Roinga̤ bud who art life of my broken life, heart of my broken heart! Truly the merciful gods are most kind to me who have so little deserved such a benediction as thou art."

Then he sets her upon her feet and hand in hand slowly they wander through the quiet garden paths. As they gather red and golden blooms for the altar offering Zeydona̤ pratles to the high priest's untiring ears of the wonders of the flowers and birds of Amâtûta̤ and of the dearest of all kinsmen, Oûman Mitsa̤ who tells her marvelous stories of a time when boys like her brother Zeydon and little girls like herself were sacrificed to Andûmana̤ and the gods. As she recalls Oûman Mitsa̤'s recitals her crimson lips quiver and her ready tears, like diamonds, fall on her armful of fragrant blooms. The high priest shudders as with quick, protective movement he gathers child and flowers into his arms and soothingly says: "Praise be to Andûmana̤, the most high, thou art safe! Thou art safe my priceless treasure! The cruel knife and torturing flames are not for thee or for any of Ento’s children." Then as though communing with himself, he murmured: "And since through His immeasurable love and mercy for His own He no longer demands the last test of obedience to His commands, who knows but that in some coming time, aye, at any time, He may vouchsafe to thee my precious one, and to all His children the gift of all gifts: continued existence here or elsewhere."

Zeydona̤ listens to the high priest’s strange words which she does not at all comprehend. But perceiving that he is greatly moved she draws one soft white arm about his neck and rests her lovely childish face against his own and he is comforted.

Dia̤fon ēvoiha̤ has vanished below the horizon and through the afterglow of its glory the lamps of Astranola̤ are faintly gleaming. The temple bells of Lēonita Tylû peal out their far-reaching silvery tones calling to the evening service the children of Andûmana̤ the Infinite One, whose creative power hath called into existence all that anywhere is.

Coming from Koidassa̤ are Oûman Mitsa̤, Lûvon, and Tillēne, Damma̤, Avānna̤, and the lad Zeydon, who rushes hither and thither in a futile effort to capture swiftly flitting Eydas (a large night moth), the eyes of his grandparents following his graceful movements with adoring glances. A little further away are Invāloû and Frona̤, whose slightly halting steps her husband sustains with the tenderness of a lover.

As they near Yaffa and lûytos, suddenly, with smiling lips and attentive manner they all pause, for on the quiet air the musical prattle of a child is borne to their listening ears. A moment later, from a garden path the high priest, bearing in his arms Zeydona̤ and her armful of red and golden blooms, comes towards them. The gems in the golden fillet confining his abundant, whitening hair are no more brilliant than are his dark, fine eyes which seem to have drawn into their depths the radiance of the vanished beams of Dia̤fon ēvoiha̤. Against his dusky face is pressed the flower face of Zeydona̤, her golden locks flowing over his shoulders and mingling with his own. And as he and his lovely burthen approach the waiting group they present a picture to be remembered in after days. Reluctantly yielding to the outreaching arms of her proud and fond grandsire his beloved namesake he gently greets his friends whose affectionate salutations afford abundant evidence of their tender regard for him.

Then with parting caresses from Zeydon and Zeydona̤ goes towards his residence and the children with their flower offering hasten towards the rear entrance of the temple to take their places in the procession.

As the children disappear Inva̤loû in a low voice, says "Frona̤ dear, in our children's lives is a repetition of the earliest days of our own." And Frona̤ replies: "Yes, heart of my heart; but praise be to Andûmana̤ and the Deific Ones, to them the horror of the sacrifice will ever be unknown. And against an experience such as we and those who so love us have endured, may the divine and gracious gods defend them."

With faces clouded by memories of bygone days they follow into the temple Oûman Mitsa̤ and their parents.

Now, as the low plaintive strains of the voûhoida̤ awaken the quiet of the spacious and very beautiful Temple the further door way opens and the high priest in his flowing robes enters and approaches the great circular Altar rearing its snowy beauty towards the red and golden crystal Dia̤fon ēvoiha̤. And as the mingled tones of the voûhoida̤ and the melodious voices of the singers swell into a grand volume of harmonious sounds, the youthful offering bearers laden with grains, fruits and flowers enter and surround the altar.

Silently the children stand awaiting the appointed moment of the offering; and as upon one golden-haired child the eyes of the high priest rest, into his face grows an expression of immeasurable tenderness and deepest humility and under his breath, he murmurs:

“Though I have greatly, grievously sinned, Thy love and mercy, O Thou Infinite One, are mightier than my transgressions. And in Thine own time and way Thou wilt show me that Thou hast forgiven me and Thou wilt wholly heal my sorely wounded heart and I shall find rest—and peace.”