The House of Rimmon

Act III

Scene I

Time: A month later: dawn.

Naaman’s tent, on high ground among the mountains near Samaria: the city below. In the distance, a wide and splendid landscape. Saballidin and soldiers on guard below the tent. Enter Ruahmah in hunter’s dress, with a lyre slung from her shoulder.

Ruahmah	Peace and good health to you, Saballidin. Good morrow to you all. How fares my lord?
Saballidin	The curtains of his tent are folded still: They have not moved since we returned, last night, And told him what befell us in the city.
Ruahmah	Told him! Why did you make report to him. And not to me? Am I not captain here, Entrusted by the King’s command with care Of Naaman’s life, until he is restored? ’Tis mine to know the first of good or ill In this adventure: mine to shield his heart From every arrow of adversity. What have you told him? Speak!
Saballidin	Lady, we feared To bring our news to you. For when the king Of Israel had read our monarch’s letter, He rent his clothes, and cried, “Am I a god, To kill and make alive, that I should heal A leper? Ye have come with false pretence, Damascus seeks a quarrel with me. Go!” But when we told our lord, he closed his tent, And there remains enfolded in his grief. I trust he sleeps; ’twere kind to let him sleep! For now he doth forget his misery, And all the burden of his hopeless woe Is lifted from him by the gentle hand Of slumber. Oh, to those bereft of hope Sleep is the only blessing left⁠—the last Asylum of the weary, the one sign Of pity from impenetrable heaven. Waking is strife: sleep is the truce of God! Ah, lady, wake him not. The day will be Full long for him to suffer, and for us To turn our disappointed faces home On the long road by which we must return.
Ruahmah	Return! Who gave you that command? Not I! The King made me the leader of this quest, And bound you all to follow me, because He knew I never would return without The thing for which he sent us. I’ll go on Day after day, unto the uttermost parts Of earth, if need be, and beyond the gates Of morning, till I find that which I seek⁠— New life for Naaman. Are ye ashamed To have a woman lead you? Then go back And tell the King, “This huntress went too far For us to follow; she pursues the trail Of hope alone, refusing to forsake The quarry: we grew weary of the chase; And so we left her and retraced our steps, Like faithless hounds, to sleep beside the fire.” Did Naaman forsake his soldiers thus When you went forth to hunt the Assyrian Bull? Your manly courage is less durable Than woman’s love, it seems. Go, if you will⁠— Who bids me now farewell?
Soldiers	Not I, not I!
Saballidin	Lady, lead on, we’ll follow you forever!
Ruahmah	Why, now you speak like men! Brought you no word Out of Samaria, except that cry Of impotence and fear from Israel’s king?
Saballidin	I do remember while he spoke with us A rustic messenger came in, and cried “Elisha saith, let Naaman come to me At Dothan, he shall surely know there is A God in Israel.”
Ruahmah	What said the King?
Saballidin	He only shouted “Go!” more wildly yet, And rent his clothes again, as if he were Half-maddened by a coward’s fear, and thought Only of how he might be rid of us. What comfort could there be for him, what hope For us, in the rude prophet’s misty word?
Ruahmah	It is the very word for which I prayed! My trust was not in princes; for the crown, The sceptre, and the purple robe are not Significant of vital power. The man Who saves his brother-men is he who lives His life with Nature, takes deep hold on truth, And trusts in God. A prophet’s word is more Than all the kings on earth can speak. How far Is Dothan?
Soldier	Lady, ’tis but three hours’ ride Along the valley northward.
Ruahmah	Near! so near? I had not thought to end my task so soon! Prepare yourselves with speed to take the road. I will awake my lord.
	Exeunt all but Saballidin* and Ruahmah. She goes toward the tent.*
Saballidin	Ruahmah, stay!
	She turns back.
	I’ve been your servant in this doubtful quest, Obedient, faithful, loyal to your will⁠— What have I earned by this?
Ruahmah	The gratitude Of him we both desire to serve: your friend⁠— My master and my lord.
Saballidin	No more than this?
Ruahmah	Yes, if you will, take all the thanks my hands Can hold, my lips can speak.
Saballidin	I would have more.
Ruahmah	My friend, there’s nothing more to give to you, My service to my lord is absolute. There’s not a drop of blood within my veins But quickens at the very thought of him; And not a dream of mine but he doth stand Within its heart and make it bright. No man To me is other than his friend or foe. You are his friend, and I believe you true!
Saballidin	I have been true to him⁠—now, I am true To you.
Ruahmah	And therefore doubly true to him! O let us match our loyalties, and strive Between us who shall win the higher crown! Men boast them of a friendship stronger far Than love of woman. Prove it! I’ll not boast, But I’ll contend with you on equal terms In this brave race: and if you win the prize I’ll hold you next to him: and if I win He’ll hold you next to me; and either way We’ll not be far apart. Do you accept My challenge?
Saballidin	Yes! For you enforce my heart By honour to resign its great desire, And love itself to offer sacrifice Of all disloyal dreams on its own altar. Yet love remains; therefore I pray you, think How surely you must lose in our contention. For I am known to Naaman: but you He blindly takes for Tsarpi. ’Tis to her He gives his gratitude: the praise you win Endears her name.
Ruahmah	Her name? Why, what is that? A name is but an empty shell, a mask That does not change the features of the face Beneath it. Can a name rejoice, or weep, Or hope? Can it be moved by tenderness To daily services of love, or feel the warmth Of dear companionship? How many things We call by names that have no meaning: kings That cannot rule; and gods that are not good; And wives that do not love! It matters not What syllables he utters when he calls, ’Tis I who come⁠—’tis I who minister Unto my lord, and mine the living heart That feels the comfort of his confidence, The thrill of gladness when he speaks to me⁠— I do not hear the name!
Saballidin	And yet, be sure There’s danger in this error⁠—and no gain!
Ruahmah	I seek no gain; I only tread the path Marked for me daily by the hand of love. And if his blindness spared my lord one pang Of sorrow in his black, forsaken hour⁠— And if this error makes his burdened heart More quiet, and his shadowed way less dark, Whom do I rob? Not her who chose to stay At ease in Rimmon’s House! Surely not him! Only myself? And that enriches me. Why trouble we the master? Let it go⁠— Tomorrow he must know the truth⁠—and then He shall dispose of me e’en as he will!
Saballidin	Tomorrow?
Ruahmah	Yes, for I will tarry here, While you conduct him to Elisha’s house To find the promised healing. I forebode A sudden danger from the craven king Of Israel, or else a secret ambush From those who hate us in Damascus. Go, But leave me twenty men: this mountain-pass Protects the road behind you. Make my lord Obey the prophet’s word, whatever he commands, And come again in peace. Farewell!
	Exit Saballidin. Ruahmah* goes toward the tent, then pauses and turns back. She takes her lyre and sings.*
	Song. Above the edge of dark appear the lances of the sun; Along the mountain-ridges clear his rosy heralds run; The vapours down the valley go Like broken armies, dark and low. Look up, my heart, from every hill In folds of rose and daffodil The sunrise banners flow. O fly away on silent wing, ye boding owls of night! O welcome little birds that sing the coming-in of light! For new, and new, and ever-new, The golden bud within the blue; And every morning seems to say: “There’s something happy on the way, And God sends love to you!”
Naaman	Appearing at the entrance of his tent. O let me ever wake to music! For the soul Returns most gently then, and finds its way By the soft, winding clue of melody, Out of the dusky labyrinth of sleep, Into the light. My body feels the sun Though I behold naught that his rays reveal. Come, thou who art my daydawn and my sight, Sweet eyes, come close, and make the sunrise mine!
Ruahmah	Coming near. A fairer day, dear lord, was never born In Paradise! The sapphire cup of heaven Is filled with golden wine: the earth, adorned With jewel-drops of dew, unveils her face A joyful bride, in welcome to her king. And look! He leaps upon the Eastern hills All ruddy fire, and claims her with a kiss. Yonder the snowy peaks of Hermon float Unmoving as a wind-dropt cloud. The gulf Of Jordan, filled with violet haze, conceals The rivers winding trail with wreaths of mist. Below us, marble-crowned Samaria thrones Upon her emerald hill amid the Vale Of Barley, while the plains to northward change Their colour like the shimmering necks of doves. The lark springs up, with morning on her wings, To climb her singing stairway in the blue, And all the fields are sprinkled with her joy!
Naaman	Thy voice is magical: thy words are visions! I must content myself with them, for now My only hope is lost: Samaria’s king Rejects our monarch’s message⁠—hast thou heard? “Am I a god that I should cure a leper?” He sends me home unhealed, with angry words, Back to Damascus and the lingering death.
Ruahmah	What matter where he sends? No god is he To slay or make alive. Elisha bids You come to him at Dothan, there to learn There is a God in Israel.
Naaman	I fear That I am grown mistrustful of all gods; Their secret counsels are implacable.
Ruahmah	Fear not! There’s One who rules in righteousness High over all.
Naaman	What knowest thou of Him?
Ruahmah	Oh, I have heard⁠—the maid of Israel⁠— Rememberest thou? She often said her God Was merciful and kind, and slow to wrath, And plenteous in forgiveness, pitying us Like as a father pitieth his children.
Naaman	If there were such a God, I’d worship Him Forever!
Ruahmah	Then make haste to hear the word His prophet promises to speak to thee! Obey it, my dear lord, and thou shalt lose This curse that burdens thee. This tiny spot Of white that mars the beauty of thy brow Shall melt like snow; thine eyes be filled with light. Thou wilt not need my leading any more⁠— Nor me⁠—for thou wilt see me, all unveiled⁠— I tremble at the thought.
Naaman	Why, what is this? Why shouldst thou tremble? Art thou not mine own?
Ruahmah	Turning to him. Surely I am! But take me, take me now! For I belong to thee in body and soul; The very pulses of my heart are thine. Wilt thou not feel how tenderly they beat? Wilt thou not lie like myrrh between my breasts And satisfy thy lonely lips with love? Thou art opprest, and I would comfort thee While yet thy sorrow weighs upon thy life. Tomorrow? No, today! The crown of love Is sacrifice; I have not given thee Enough! Ah, fold me in thine arms⁠—take all!
	She takes his hands and puts them around her neck; he holds her from him, with one hand on her shoulder, the other behind her head.
Naaman	Thou art too dear to injure with a kiss⁠— Too dear for me to stain thy purity, Or leave one touch upon thee to regret! How should I take a gift may bankrupt thee, Or drain the fragrant chalice of thy love With lips that may be fatal? Tempt me not To sweet dishonour; strengthen me to wait Until thy prophecy is all fulfilled, And I can claim thee with a joyful heart.
Ruahmah	Turning away. Thou wilt not need me then⁠—and I shall be No more than the faint echo of a song Heard half asleep. We shall go back to where We stood before this journey.
Naaman	Never again! For thou art changed by some deep miracle. The flower of womanhood hath bloomed in thee⁠— Art thou not changed?
Ruahmah	Yea, I am changed⁠—and changed Again⁠—bewildered⁠—till there’s nothing clear To me but this: I am the instrument In an Almighty hand to rescue thee From death. This will I do⁠—and afterward⁠—
	A trumpet is blown, without.
	Hearken, the trumpet sounds, the chariot waits. Away, dear lord, follow the road to light!

Scene II1

The house of Elisha, upon a terraced hillside. A low stone cottage with vine-trellises and flowers; a flight of steps, at the foot of which is Naaman’s chariot. He is standing in it; Saballidin beside it. Two soldiers come down the steps.

First Soldier	We have delivered my lord’s greeting and his message.
Second Solider	Yes, and near lost our noses in the doing of it! For the servant slammed the door in our faces. A most unmannerly reception!
First Soldier	But I take that as a good omen. It is mark of holy men to keep ill-conditioned servants. Look, the door opens, the prophet is coming.
Second Soldier	No, by my head, it’s that notable mark of his master’s holiness, that same lantern-jawed lout of a servant.
	Gehazi loiters down the steps and comes to Naaman with a slight obeisance.
Gehazi	My master, the prophet of Israel, sends word to Naaman the Syrian⁠—are you he?⁠—“Go wash in Jordan seven times and be healed.”
	Gehazi turns and goes slowly up the steps.
Naaman	What insolence is this? Am I a man To be put off with surly messengers? Has not Damascus rivers more renowned Than this rude, torrent Jordan? Crystal streams, Abana! Pharpar! flowing smoothly through A paradise of roses? Might I not Have bathed in them and been restored at ease? Come up, Saballidin, and guide me home!
Saballidin	Bethink thee, master, shall we lose our quest Because a servant is uncouth? The road That seeks the mountain leads us through the vale. The prophet’s word is friendly after all; For had it been some mighty task he set, Thou wouldst perform it. How much rather then This easy one? Hast thou not promised her Who waits for thy return? Wilt thou go back To her unhealed?
Naaman	No! not for all my pride! I’ll make myself most humble for her sake, And stoop to anything that gives me hope Of having her. Make haste, Saballidin, Bring me to Jordan. I will cast myself Into that river’s turbulent embrace A hundred times, until I save my life Or lose it!
	Exeunt. The light fades: musical interlude. The light increases again with ruddy sunset shining on the door of Elisha’s house. The prophet appears and looks off, shading his eyes with his hand as he descends the steps slowly. Trumpet blows⁠—Naaman’s call;⁠—sound of horses galloping and men shouting. Naaman enters joyously, followed by Saballidin and soldiers, with gifts.
	Behold a man delivered from the grave By thee! I rose from Jordan’s waves restored To youth and vigour, as the eagle mounts Upon the sunbeam and renews his strength! O mighty prophet deign to take from me These gifts too poor to speak my gratitude; Silver and gold and jewels, damask robes⁠—
Elisha	Interrupting. As thy soul liveth I will not receive A gift from thee, my son! Give all to Him Whose mercy hath redeemed thee from thy plague.
Naaman	He is the only God! I worship Him! Grant me a portion of the blessed soil Of this most favoured land where I have found His mercy; in Damascus will I build An altar to His name, and praise Him there Morning and night. There is no other God In all the world.
Elisha	Thou needest not This load of earth to build a shrine for Him; Yet take it if thou wilt. But be assured God’s altar is in every loyal heart, And every flame of love that kindles there Ascends to Him and brightens with His praise. There is no other God! But evil Powers Make war against Him in the darkened world; And many temples have been built to them.
Naaman	I know them well! Yet when my master goes To worship in the House of Rimmon, I Must enter with him; for he trusts me, leans Upon my hand; and when he bows himself I cannot help but make obeisance too⁠— But not to Rimmon! To my country’s king I’ll bow in love and honour. Will the Lord Pardon thy servant in this thing?
Elisha	My son, Peace has been granted thee. ’Tis thine to find The only way to keep it. Go in peace.
Naaman	Thou hast not answered me⁠—may I bow down?
Elisha	The answer must be thine. The heart that knows The perfect peace of gratitude and love, Walks in the light and needs no other rule. Take counsel with thy heart and go in peace!
	Curtain.