The House of Rimmon

Act IV

Scene I

The interior of Naaman’s tent, at night. Ruahmah alone, sleeping on the ground. A vision appears to her through the curtains of the font: Elisha standing on the hillside at Dothan: Naaman, restored to sight, comes in and kneels before him. Elisha blesses him, and he goes out rejoicing. The vision of the prophet turns to Ruahmah and lifts his hand in warning.

Elisha	Daughter of Israel, what dost thou here? Thy prayer is granted. Naaman is healed: Mar not true service with a selfish thought. Nothing remains for thee to do, except Give thanks, and go whither the Lord commands. Obey⁠—obey! Ere Naaman returns Thou must depart to thine own house in Shechem.
	The vision vanishes.
Ruahmah	Waking and rising slowly. A dream, a dream, a messenger of God! O dear and dreadful vision, art thou true? Then am I glad with all my broken heart. Nothing remains⁠—nothing remains but this⁠— Give thanks, obey, depart⁠—and so I do. Farewell, my master’s sword! Farewell to you, My amulet! I lay you on the hilt His hand shall clasp again: bid him farewell For me, since I must look upon his face No more forever!⁠—Hark, what sound was that?
	Enter soldier hurriedly.
Soldier	Mistress, an armèd troop, footmen and horse, Mounting the hill!
Ruahmah	My lord returns in triumph.
Soldier	Not so, for these are enemies; they march In haste and silence, answering not our cries.
Ruahmah	Our enemies? Then hold your ground⁠—on guard! Fight! fight! Defend the pass, and drive them down.
	Exit soldier. Ruahmah draws Naaman’s sword from the scabbard and hurries out of the tent. Confused noise of fighting outside. Three or four soldiers are driven in by a troop of men in disguise. Ruahmah follows: she is beaten to her knees, and her sword is broken.
Rezon	Throwing aside the cloth which covers his face. Hold her! So, tiger-maid, we’ve found your lair And trapped you. Where is Naaman, Your master?
Ruahmah	Rising, her arms held by two of Rezon’s* followers.* He is far beyond your reach.
Rezon	Brave captain! He has saved himself, the leper, And left you here?
Ruahmah	The leper is no more.
Rezon	What mean you?
Ruahmah	He has gone to meet his God.
Rezon	Dead? Dead? Behold how Rimmon’s wrath is swift! Damascus shall be mine: I’ll terrify The King with this, and make my terms. But no! False maid, you sweet-faced harlot, you have lied To save him⁠—speak.
Ruahmah	I am not what you say, Nor have I lied, nor will I ever speak A word to you, vile servant of a traitor-god.
Rezon	Break off this little flute of blasphemy, This ivory neck⁠—twist it, I say! Give her a swift despatch after her leper! But stay⁠—if he still lives he’ll follow her, And so we may ensnare him. Harm her not! Bind her! Away with her to Rimmon’s House! Is all this carrion dead? There’s one that moves⁠— A spear⁠—fasten him down! All quiet now? Then back to our Damascus! Rimmon’s face Shall be made bright with sacrifice.
	Exeunt forcing Ruahmah with them. Musical interlude. A wounded soldier crawls from a dark corner of the tent and finds the chain with Naaman’s seal, which has fallen to the ground in the struggle.
Wounded Soldier	This signet of my lord, her amulet! Lost, lost! Ah, noble lady⁠—let me die With this upon my breast.
	The tent is dark. Enter Naaman* and his company in haste, with torches.*
Naaman	What bloody work Is here? God, let me live to punish him Who wrought this horror! Treacherously slain At night, by unknown hands, my brave companions: Tsarpi, my best beloved, light of my soul, Put out in darkness! O my broken lamp Of life, where art thou? Nay, I cannot find her.
Wounded Soldier	Raising himself on his arm. Master!
Naaman	Kneels beside him. One living? Quick, a torch this way! Lift up his head⁠—so⁠—carefully! Courage, my friend, your captain is beside you. Call back your soul and make report to him.
Wounded Soldier	Hail, captain! O my captain⁠—here!
Naaman	Be patient⁠—rest in peace⁠—the fight is done. Nothing remains but render your account.
Wounded Soldier	They fell upon us suddenly⁠—we fought Our fiercest⁠—every man⁠—our lady fought Fiercer than all. They beat us down⁠—she’s gone. Rezon has carried her away a captive. See⁠— Her amulet⁠—I die for you, my captain.
Naaman	He gently lays the dead soldier on the ground, and rises. Farewell. This last report was brave; but strange Beyond my thought! How came the High Priest here? And what is this? my chain, my seal! But this Has never been in Tsarpi’s hand. I gave This signet to a captive maid one night⁠— A maid of Israel. How long ago? Ruahmah was her name⁠—almost forgotten! So long ago⁠—how comes this token here? What is this mystery, Saballidin?
Saballidin	Ruahmah is her name who brought you hither.
Naaman	Where then is Tsarpi?
Saballidin	In Damascus. She left you when the curse of Rimmon fell⁠— Took refuge in his House⁠—and there she waits Her lord’s return⁠—Rezon’s return.
Naaman	’Tis false!
Saballidin	The falsehood is in her. She hath been friend With Rezon in his priestly plot to win Assyria’s favour⁠—friend to his design To sell his country to enrich his temple⁠— And friend to him in more⁠—I will not name it.
Naaman	Nor will I credit it. Impossible!
Saballidin	Did she not plead with you against the war, Counsel surrender, seek to break your will?
Naaman	She did not love my work, a soldier’s task. She never seemed to be at one with me Until I was a leper.
Saballidin	From whose hand Did you receive the sacred cup?
Naaman	From hers.
Saballidin	And from that hour the curse began to work.
Naaman	But did she not have pity when she saw Me smitten? Did she not beseech the King For letters and a guard to make this journey? Has she not been the fountain of my hope, My comforter and my most faithful guide In this adventure of the dark? All this Is proof of perfect love that would have shared A leper’s doom rather than give me up. Can I doubt her who dared to love like this?
Saballidin	O master, doubt her not⁠—but know her name; Ruahmah! It was she alone who wrought This wondrous work of love. She won the King By the strong pleading of resistless hope To furnish forth this company. She led Our march, kept us in heart, fought off despair, Offered herself to you as to her god, Watched over you as if you were her child, Prepared your food, your cup, with her own hands, Sang you asleep at night, awake at dawn⁠—
Naaman	Interrupting. Enough! I do remember every hour Of that sweet comradeship! And now her voice Wakens the echoes in my lonely breast; The perfume of her presence fills my sense With longing. All my soul cries out in vain For her embracing, satisfying love, her eyes and called her my Ruahmah!
	To his soldiers. Away! away! I burn to take the road That leads me back to Rimmon’s House⁠— But not to bow⁠—by God, never to bow!

Scene II

Time: Three days later.

Inner court of the House of Rimmon; a temple with huge pillars at each side. In the right foreground the seat of the King; at the left, of equal height, the seat of the High Priest. In the background a broad flight of steps, rising to a curtain of cloudy gray, embroidered with two gigantic hands holding thunderbolts. The temple is in half darkness at first. Enter Khamma and Nubta, robed as Kharimati, or religious dancers, in gowns of black gauze with yellow embroideries and mantles.

Khamma	All is ready for the rites of worship; our lady will play a great part in them. She has put on her Tyrian robes, and all her ornaments.
Nubta	That is a sure sign of a religious purpose. She is most devout, our lady Tsarpi!
Khamma	A favourite of Rimmon, too! The High Priest has assured her of it. He is a great man⁠—next to the King, now that Naaman is gone.
Nubta	But if Naaman should come back, healed of the leprosy?
Khamma	How can he come back? The Hebrew slave that went away with him, when they caught her, said that he was dead. The High Priest has shut her up in the prison of the temple, accusing her of her master’s death.
Nubta	Yet I think he does not believe it, for I heard him telling our mistress what to do if Naaman should return.
Khamma	What, then?
Nubta	She will claim him as her husband. Was she not wedded to him before the god? That is a sacred bond. Only the High Priest can loose it. She will keep her hold on Naaman for the sake of the House of Rimmon. A wife knows her husband’s secrets, she can tell⁠—
	Enter Shumakim, with his flagon, walking unsteadily.
Khamma	Hush! here comes the fool Shumakim. He is never sober.
Shumakim	Laughing. Are there two of you? I see two, but that is no proof. I think there is only one, but beautiful enough for two. What were you talking to yourself about, fairest one!
Khamma	About the lady Tsarpi, fool, and what she would do if her husband returned.
Shumakim	Fie! fie! That is no talk for an innocent fool to hear. Has she a husband?
Nubta	You know very well that she is the wife of Lord Naaman.
Shumakim	I remember that she used to wear his name and his jewels. But I thought he had exchanged her⁠—for a leprosy.
Khamma	You must have heard that he went away to Samaria to look for healing. Some say that he died on the journey; but others say he has been cured, and is on his way home to his wife.
Shumakim	It may be, for this is a mad world, and men never know when they are well off⁠—except us fools. But he must come soon if he would find his wife as he parted from her⁠—or the city where he left it. The Assyrians have returned with a greater army, and this time they will make an end of us. There is no Naaman how, and the Bull will devour Damascus like a bunch of leeks, flowers and all⁠—flowers and all, my double-budded fair one! Are you not afraid?
Nubta	We belong to the House of Rimmon. He will protect us.
Shumakim	What? The mighty one who hides behind the curtain there, and tells his secrets to Rezon? No doubt he will take care of you, and of himself. Whatever game is played, the gods never lose. But for the protection, of the common people and the rest of us fools, I would rather have Naaman at the head of an army than all the sacred images between here and Babylon.
Khamma	You are a wicked old man. You mock the god. He will punish you.
Shumakim	Bitterly. How can he punish me? Has he not already made me a fool? Hark, here comes my brother the High Priest, and my brother the King. Rimmon made us all; but nobody knows who made Rimmon, except the High Priest; and he will never tell.
	Gongs and cymbals sound. Enter Rezon with priests, and the King with courtiers. They take their seats. A throng of Khali and Kharimati come in, Tsarpi presiding; a sacred dance is performed with torches, burning incense, and chanting, in which Tsarpi leads.
	Chant. Hail, mighty Rimmon, ruler of the whirl-storm, Hail, shaker of mountains, breaker-down of forests, Hail, thou who roarest terribly in the darkness, Hail, thou whose arrows flame across the heavens! Hail, great destroyer, lord of flood and tempest, In thine anger almighty, in thy wrath eternal, Thou who delightest in ruin, maker of desolations, Immeru, Addu, Barku, Rimmon! See we tremble before thee, low we bow at thine altar, Have mercy upon us, be favourable unto us, Save us from our enemy, accept our sacrifice, Barku, Immeru, Addu, Rimmon!
	Silence follows, all bowing down.
Rezon	O King, last night the counsel from above Was given in answer to our divination. Ambassadors must go forthwith to crave Assyria’s pardon, and a second offer Of the same terms of peace we did reject Not long ago.
Benhadad	Dishonour! Yet I see No other way! Assyria will refuse, Or make still harder terms. Disaster, shame For this gray head, and ruin for Damascus!
Rezon	Yet may we trust Rimmon will favour us, If we adhere devoutly to his worship. He will incline his brother-god, the Bull, To spare us, if we supplicate him now With costly gifts. Therefore I have prepared A sacrifice: Rimmon shall be well pleased With the red blood that bathes his knees tonight!
Benhadad	My mind is dark with doubt⁠—I do forebode Some horror! Let me go⁠—I am an old man⁠— If Naaman my captain were alive! But he is dead⁠—the glory is departed!
	He rises, trembling, to leave the throne. Trumpet sounds⁠—Naaman’s* call;⁠—enter Naaman, followed by soldiers; he kneels at the foot of the throne.*
	Half-whispering. Art thou a ghost escaped from Allatu? How didst thou pass the seven doors of death? O noble ghost I am afraid of thee, And yet I love thee⁠—let me hear thy voice!
Naaman	No ghost, my King, but one who lives to serve Thee and Damascus with his heart and sword As in the former days. The only God Has healed my leprosy: my life is clean To offer to my country and my King.
Benhadad	Starting toward him. O welcome to thy King! Thrice welcome!
Rezon	Leaving his seat and coming toward Naaman. Stay! The leper must appear before the priest, The only one who can pronounce him clean.
	Naaman turns; they stand looking each other in the face.
	Yea⁠—thou art cleansed: Rimmon hath pardoned thee⁠— In answer to the daily prayers of her Whom he restores to thine embrace⁠—thy wife.
	Tsarpi comes slowly toward Naaman.
Naaman	From him who rules this House will I receive Nothing! I seek no pardon from his priest, No wife of mine among his votaries!
Tsarpi	Holding out her hands. Am I not yours? Will you renounce our vows?
Naaman	The vows were empty⁠—never made you mine In aught but name. A wife is one who shares Her husband’s thought, incorporates his heart With hers by love, and crowns him with her trust. She is God’s remedy for loneliness, And God’s reward for all the toil of life. This you have never been to me⁠—and so I give you back again to Rimmon’s House Where you belong. Claim what you will of mine⁠— Not me! I do renounce you⁠—or release you⁠— According to the law. If you demand A further cause than what I have declared, I will unfold it fully to the King.
Rezon	Interposing hurriedly. No need of that! This duteous lady yields To your caprice as she has ever done; She stands a monument of loyalty And woman’s meekness.
Naaman	Let her stand for that! Adorn your temple with her piety! But you in turn restore to me the treasure You stole at midnight from my tent.
Rezon	What treasure? I have stolen none from you.
Naaman	The very jewel of my soul⁠—Ruahmah! My King, the captive maid of Israel, To whom thou didst commit my broken life With letters to Samaria⁠—my light, My guide, my saviour in this pilgrimage⁠— Dost thou remember?
Benhadad	I recall the maid⁠— But dimly⁠—for my mind is old and weary. She was a fearless maid, I trusted her And gave thee to her charge. Where is she now?
Naaman	This robber fell upon my camp by night⁠— While I was with Elisha at the Jordan⁠— Slaughtered my soldiers, carried off the maid, And holds her somewhere in imprisonment. O give this jewel back to me, my King, And I will serve thee with a grateful heart Forever. I will fight for thee, and lead Thine armies on to glorious victory Over all foes! Thou shalt no longer fear The host of Asshur, for thy throne shall stand Encompassed with a wall of dauntless hearts, And founded on a mighty people’s love, And guarded by the God of righteousness.
Benhadad	I feel the flame of courage at thy breath Leap up among the ashes of despair. Thou hast returned to save us! Thou shalt have The maid; and thou shalt lead my host again! Priest, I command you give her back to him.
Rezon	O master, I obey thy word as thou Hast ever been obedient to the voice Of Rimmon. Let thy fiery captain wait Until the sacrifice has been performed, And he shall have the jewel that he claims. Must we not first placate the city’s god With due allegiance, keep the ancient faith, And pay our homage to the Lord of Wrath?
Benhadad	Sinking back upon his throne in fear. I am the faithful son of Rimmon’s House⁠— And lo, these many years I worship him! My thoughts are troubled⁠—I am very old, But still a King! O Naaman, be patient! Priest, let the sacrifice be offered.
	The High Priest lifts his rod. Gongs and cymbals sound. The curtain is rolled back, disclosing the image of Rimmon; a gigantic and hideous idol, with a cruel human face, four horns, the mane of a lion, and huge paws stretched in front of him enclosing a low altar of black stone. Ruahmah stands on the altar, chained, her arms are bare and folded on her breast. The people prostrate themselves in silence, with signs of astonishment and horror.
Rezon	Behold the sacrifice! Bow down, bow down!
Naaman	Stabbing him. Bow thou, black priest! Down⁠—down to hell! Ruahmah! do not die! I come to thee,
	Naaman rushes toward her, attacked by the priests, crying “Sacrilege! Kill him!” But the soldiers stand on the steps and beat them back. He springs upon the altar and clasps her by the hand. Tumult and confusion. The King rises and speaks with a loud voice, silence follows.
Benhadad	Peace, peace! The King commands all weapons down! O Naaman, what wouldst thou do? Beware Lest thou provoke the anger of a god.
Naaman	There is no God but one, the Merciful, Who gave this perfect woman to my soul That I might learn through her to worship Him, And know the meaning of immortal Love. Whom God hath joined together, all the Powers Of hate and falsehood never shall divide.
Benhadad	Agitated. Yet she is consecrated, bound, and doomed To sacrificial death; but thou art sworn To live and lead my host⁠—Hast thou not sworn?
Naaman	Only if thou wilt keep thy word to me! Break with this idol of iniquity Whose shadow makes a darkness in the land; Give her to me who gave me back to thee; And I will lead thine army to renown And plant thy banners on the hill of triumph. But if she dies, I die with her, defying Rimmon.
	Cries of “Spare them! Release her! Give us back our Captain!” and “Sacrilege! Let them die!” Then silence, all turning toward the King.
Benhadad	Is this the choice? Must we destroy the bond Of ancient faith, or slay the city’s living hope! I am an old, old man⁠—and yet the King! Must I decide?⁠—O let me ponder it!
	His head sinks upon his breast. All stand eagerly looking at him.
Naaman	Holding her in his arms. Ruahmah, my Ruahmah! I have come To thee at last! And art thou satisfied?
Ruahmah	Looking into his face. Belovèd, my belovèd, I am glad Forever! Come what may, the only God Is Love⁠—and He will never part us.