CHAPTER III.
The two friends parted at the quay. The king entered the palanquin whichhad awaited his return.
"To Trypho, the dyer's!"
An unusual commotion was made in the streets, or rather the alleys,through which the king's litter passed; for seldom until Hiram'saccession had royalty cast its aristocratic lustre among the shadows ofthe common artisan's life. But Hiram was well known in these places. Asa lad he had spent many hours in the factories, amusing himself withtools, and questioning the workmen about the details of their variousarts.
The palanquin stopped at a low door, from which a cloud of steam wasemitted. In the midst of this, like the statue of some god in a halo ofincense, stood a man, naked to the waist, his arms and parts of his barebreast red, as if with blood.
As the king alighted, the man made an awkward salam, knocking his headagainst the low lintel in resuming the perpendicular. Without losing anyof his courtliness of manner, Hiram put the fellow at case by his genialfamiliarity.
"Ah, Trypho! You are like the god Tammuz, killed by the wild boar, butcoming to life with the blood-marks on him."
"Like a king, rather," said Trypho, "for the red will be purple when itdries."
"No, like a queen," retorted Hiram, pleased with the man's banter, "forI swear by Astarte that the dye on your arms is the same that is goinginto the robe of the future queen of Tyre."
"Such is the honor your patronage has brought me," replied Trypho,making another salam, that ended by nearly tripping the king into adyeing vat.
"But how goes the cloth?" asked Hiram, laughing.
"It is nearly completed," said the workman, leading the way to an innerroom. "Come in, and judge for yourself. I need not keep the secret of myart from one who knows it already."
At a leaden sink a half-grown boy was drawing the snail-like murex fromits shell. Cutting off its head, he dexterously detached from its bodythe long sac of yellow liquid, which, on exposure, changed first togreen, and, passing through the intermediate shades, to a bright purple.At a bench near by a workman crushed with a wooden hammer the smallershell of the insect since called buccinum, which, together with the bodyof the animal, was thrown into a vat, mixed with salt, the whole massheated, and reduced to a liquid state by an injection of steam. Thegritty substance from the shell was then carefully skimmed from thesurface, leaving a lighter purplish liquid than that obtained from themurex.
"They tell me, Trypho, that you can mix these two dyes at sight, so asto produce the rare tint for which your cloths are so famous. Have youno written formula, and do you never measure out the proportions?"
"No, sire," replied the man, "I never learned the proportions by weightor by measure. If I knew them myself I might tell somebody; then mysecret would be gone. So I never told myself how I do it. I think of atint, and pour the dyes together, and they always come out the tint Ithink of. How do I do it? Just as my old legs carry me where I think ofgoing, without counting my steps, or watching which way my toes turn."
The fellow was garrulous, and, seeing that he had the king's attention,went on:--
"I got this secret where I got my blood--from my father; and he fromhis, and he from his. For, you see, we have been in this trade forthousands of years. You know that story the priests tell about thediscovery of the art of dyeing? Well, it is true, because it was to oneof my grandfathers that the great god Melkarth came when his dog ate offthe head of a shell-fish, and colored his jaws with such beautiful tintsthat the nymph Tyrus refused to marry the god until he gave her a gownof the same color. It was my ancestor, the first Trypho, who helped thegreat Melkarth get his bride; and to no one else than to Trypho, thelast, should the noble King Hiram come for a gown for his beautifulqueen: whom may Tyrus bless! Come now, and see if the cloth I haveprepared for your lady be not as lovely as was that of Tyrus herself. Nowoman could refuse a lover who wooed with such a garment in his hands asI have made."
Trypho led the way to another room, where cloths were hung before awindow, by manipulating the screens of which the artisan adjusted thelight that gave the required tone to the color.
"Truly a divine art!" cried Trypho, in his enthusiastic appreciation ofhis own work. "For see, I must use the beams of Baal, the sun-god, tobring it to perfection. It must be a divine art that uses Divinity."
"Does Baal let you use his beams at your will?" asked the king. "Thenyou must be the god, and Baal your servant. Baal could not make thatsplendid tint without you."
The man stared at the king as if stricken dumb by the blasphemy he hadheard. His look of perplexity tempted Hiram to banter him further.
"And indeed, Trypho, I think you are more divine in your naked muscle,daubed with this insect's blood, which you can transform into beauty,than the brass image of Moloch is when dyed with children's blood. Nobeautiful thing was ever taken out of the blood vat at his feet. How sayyou, Trypho?" tapping the man's bare shoulders.
The workman made no reply, but moved a pace or two away from the king,looking at him in a sort of stupid terror. Recovering his senses, hepointed to a hanging of finest texture, whose exquisite tint brought anexclamation of delight from his visitor. It only needed to be washed ina decoction made from a certain sea-weed, found on the coast of Crete,to fix its color.
"This is for the robe of the queen of Tyre," said Trypho, bowing low, inas much obeisance to his own pride in his work as to the royal dignityof his visitor.
"You, Trypho, shall have a skin of finest wine from the marriage feast,"said the king, grasping the hand of the workman, and leaving in it agold daric.
Hiram and his attendants threaded their way through a low arcadedstreet, which was lined on either side with bazaars or cells oftradesmen, and debouched into a small court surrounded by the foundriesof the bronze-workers. The open space was covered with scraps of metal,heaps of charred wood, broken moulding-boxes, piles of clay and sand.Leaving the palanquin at the entrance to the court, Hiram walked acrossit, followed by the eyes of scores who gazed after him from theirvarious doorways. He entered the foundry of one of the most notedartisans. The owner greeted him with dignified cordiality.
"The Cabeiri have sent you at the right moment, your majesty. Finer workthan I have just completed was never done by the Greek Vulcan. Youadmire the Greeks, as all artists must. But I shall prove to your owneyes that Tyre is keeping her ancient renown. See this bronze dish! Butfirst listen to its musical ring," striking it with his centre finger."It sounds longer than a diver can hold his breath. The gods have taughtus the secret, which I whisper to you, sire: One part tin; nine partscopper. And never did embosser do better work with hammer and gravingtool. Look at the muscles in the forearm of that figure on the rim."
"Finely wrought, indeed!" said the king. "But will they all be done intime? It wants but three moons to the wedding. And the number ofpieces?"
"Yes, your majesty; five great dishes of gold, two-score of silver, ahalf-score of vases in bronze, and--But here is the order, which I shallhave ready--"
"That is enough. I am pleased with your skill and promptness, and shallreward them," said the king, presenting his hand, which the artisanreverently touched with his lips.
King Hiram emerged from the network of streets and by-ways upon theEurychorus Square, crossing which the royal palanquin disappearedbeneath the portal of his palace. This was the residence of the ancientkings of Tyre. It was a large building, constructed of great blocks ofstone, which were joined without mortar on smooth-fitting surfaces.About each stone was a depressed border, or bevel, which clearly markedthe size of the blocks, making the whole more impressive to the eye,and at the same time revealing the antiquity of its construction. Theedifice was windowless on the exterior. The only entrance was guarded byan enormous gate of oaken planks, which were banded together with thickand broad bars of burnished bronze. Pegs and sockets of the same metalmade the hinges. It required the full strength of two burly porters toopen these doors, for their great weight and the generations duringwhich they had done s
ervice had worn the sockets into irregular shapes.As old Goliab, the porter, closed his half of the folding pair, andwatched his comrade struggle with the other, he remarked:
"The hinges squeak like a howling priest. If they had not been usedsince the days of the Great Hiram, our king would order them to be takenoff, and the new-fashioned ones put on."
"Hist, now!" replied his comrade. "They say that the king is going tostop the priests' howling first. The priests stick in the old ways theyhave worn for themselves, which, Baal save me! are not the ways the godsmade when they lived in Tyre; and may be they lived in this same palace,for they do say that the first king was a god."
"Have a care!" rejoined Goliab. "I have seen many a priest watching thisgate of late. Who knows but they will take it for a temple, and move inthemselves?"
"Then I move out. I serve none less than the king. But have you read theproclamation, Goliab? I thank Astarte for never sending me any childrento be burned to Moloch."
"That is not for such as we to talk about," replied Goliab.
"Why not?"
"Because," lowering his voice to a whisper, "there's a priest outsidethis moment. I can see his shadow through the crack under the gate."
The palanquin-bearers set down their royal burden in the court aroundwhich the palace was built. Hiram alighted by the fountain that rose inthe centre and flung its spray over the beds of flowers which tastefullydecorated the borders of its marble basin. He lingered a moment under anorange tree, whose silver blossoms and golden fruit, in simultaneousfulness, made him think of a proverb that was common everywhere in thoselands famous for their orange groves: "A timely word is like goldenfruit in a basket of silver." And then he thought of Hanno's words onthe bireme. "Were they timely? Does Hanno know of dangers that I amignorant of?"
He sought his private chamber, a room whose high walls were lined withalabaster, great pieces of which were cut into noble panels, and carvedwith delicate tracery. The room was lighted chiefly through windows setnear the ceiling, covered with curiously shaped bits of glass, whichflung variegated colors, as in a floral shower, upon the white walls andfloors. Servants loosed his sandals, washed his feet, brought perfumedwater for his hands and face. His hair-dresser was ready with hisointment; his wardrobe-keeper with the special chiton and tunic which heknew his master liked. Others came bearing a repast.
When he had eaten and taken a double cup of wine--for the mentalexcitement of the council, together with the physical exhilaration ofthe run upon the sea, prompted that unusual indulgence--the king threwhimself upon the divan to think. He first scanned with knit brows andcurling lip a copy of the proclamation of the council, which he foundupon his table. The parchment, however, soon fell from his hand, for hewas tired even of his own wrath. The lines of writing changed into thickwebs which, it seemed to him, gigantic spiders had spun about the room.He looked closely at one of these monsters. Its head was surely that ofEgbalus. There was a smaller spider with the leering look of Rubaal.Ahimelek, too, with sleek, smooth face of hypocritical amiability, and ascore of legs with anchors on them for sandals, was timidly crawling outof a corner. Then Hanno appeared, and walked straight through thetangled webs; and the spiders darted into holes from which, with littlered eyes, they watched the intruder. Then, with unrustling robes, Zillahcame. In the light which her presence dispensed the webs disappeared, asthose on the dewy grass vanish under the sun's beams in the morning. Theking dreamed--dreamed of such things as will never happen until Astarteabdicates her direction of woman's life, and love-sick Adonis takes herplace.