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Acolyte, v. 2, issue 3, whole no. 7, Summer 1944
Page 11
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THE HARP ALLAN P. ROBERTS Slowly and with painful steps the long chain of bound captives filed along the rough stones, and ever and again the whips of the victorious soldiers flickered out to hasten their gait. And ever and again the King shifted in his palanquin of samite and gold, and turned to urge on his bearers, so that the prisoners stumbled and fell as the pace increased; and the people howled their delight, for by strength and blood had the King won his throne, and by strength and blood would he keep it. At dusk, when the last shuddering gasp from tongues without lips, and the last horrible gurgle from lips without tongues, had faded away down the narrow staircase leading to that dark, cold room under the palace--at dusk, then, the King summoned his courtiers and proclaimed a royal feast. Then did those skilled in such matters repair to the palace hall, and soon the air was redolent of bergamot and vervain, and the sweetly cloying essence of the suna bush; and from the glittering walls and the crystal chandeliers shone studded sapphires, and the pale green peridot, and the tiny cymophane that seems to burst with light, and the strange tyano whose colour no man is able to name; and the dancers donned their draperies of brocade and exquisitely fine gold plate, and their tiny slippers of doeskin set with beryls, and their fans of peacock's down; and the floor was cunningly prepared for the corantos and the sarabands they would dance that night. Thus in celebration would men honour the conqueror. So at the appointed time that night the lamps were lit and the alcove braziers fired, and the multicoloured light flickered and danced over the precious stones; and first of all the company the King entered the great hall and mounted his throne of ebony and scarlet. With haughty pride he gazed over his glory, and his hand was raised to summon the first entertainers, when suddenly the silken hangings in the outer doorway parted , and a figure bore its way through the crowd of sycophants to the very base of the throne, carrying a silver harp. And before the King could call servants to remove this impudent fellow in shabby velvet, the man plucked at his harp, and the King was still. As the pliant fingers caressed sweet music from the silver strings, the King's thoughts turned to other days; for the chords sang of lost joys and sweet longings, and of the fresh fragrance of a green field in spring and the lone cry of a linnet at dawning. And the King remembered days when he had not known the wine of grandeur, days ere the savagery of battle had become part of him; and he forgot his dreams of conquest and power, and remembered only the dreams of long ago, dreams so little and yet so infinitely dear. Thus the King mused, and his memories were sweet and strangely sad. The harper paused, and while the soft echoes of the last mellow note crept slowly away, and for long moments after, the King moved not and his features were as one who dreams; and as one who awakens from a dream the King suddenly shook himself and gazed up. Then with a firm hand he pointed to he harper and said: "Seize him and bind him with strong cords. By strength and blood I gained my throne, and by strength and blood shall I keep it. Yea, bind him, and that all may see that the strength of the King has not failed, bring him with me where such things may best be proven." But the harper spoke not a word, neither did he speak nor groan during the long hours in that dank, dark room beneath the palace, -- 11 --
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THE HARP ALLAN P. ROBERTS Slowly and with painful steps the long chain of bound captives filed along the rough stones, and ever and again the whips of the victorious soldiers flickered out to hasten their gait. And ever and again the King shifted in his palanquin of samite and gold, and turned to urge on his bearers, so that the prisoners stumbled and fell as the pace increased; and the people howled their delight, for by strength and blood had the King won his throne, and by strength and blood would he keep it. At dusk, when the last shuddering gasp from tongues without lips, and the last horrible gurgle from lips without tongues, had faded away down the narrow staircase leading to that dark, cold room under the palace--at dusk, then, the King summoned his courtiers and proclaimed a royal feast. Then did those skilled in such matters repair to the palace hall, and soon the air was redolent of bergamot and vervain, and the sweetly cloying essence of the suna bush; and from the glittering walls and the crystal chandeliers shone studded sapphires, and the pale green peridot, and the tiny cymophane that seems to burst with light, and the strange tyano whose colour no man is able to name; and the dancers donned their draperies of brocade and exquisitely fine gold plate, and their tiny slippers of doeskin set with beryls, and their fans of peacock's down; and the floor was cunningly prepared for the corantos and the sarabands they would dance that night. Thus in celebration would men honour the conqueror. So at the appointed time that night the lamps were lit and the alcove braziers fired, and the multicoloured light flickered and danced over the precious stones; and first of all the company the King entered the great hall and mounted his throne of ebony and scarlet. With haughty pride he gazed over his glory, and his hand was raised to summon the first entertainers, when suddenly the silken hangings in the outer doorway parted , and a figure bore its way through the crowd of sycophants to the very base of the throne, carrying a silver harp. And before the King could call servants to remove this impudent fellow in shabby velvet, the man plucked at his harp, and the King was still. As the pliant fingers caressed sweet music from the silver strings, the King's thoughts turned to other days; for the chords sang of lost joys and sweet longings, and of the fresh fragrance of a green field in spring and the lone cry of a linnet at dawning. And the King remembered days when he had not known the wine of grandeur, days ere the savagery of battle had become part of him; and he forgot his dreams of conquest and power, and remembered only the dreams of long ago, dreams so little and yet so infinitely dear. Thus the King mused, and his memories were sweet and strangely sad. The harper paused, and while the soft echoes of the last mellow note crept slowly away, and for long moments after, the King moved not and his features were as one who dreams; and as one who awakens from a dream the King suddenly shook himself and gazed up. Then with a firm hand he pointed to he harper and said: "Seize him and bind him with strong cords. By strength and blood I gained my throne, and by strength and blood shall I keep it. Yea, bind him, and that all may see that the strength of the King has not failed, bring him with me where such things may best be proven." But the harper spoke not a word, neither did he speak nor groan during the long hours in that dank, dark room beneath the palace, -- 11 --
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