The House of Rimmon

safe
Among the nobles, in some pleasant place.
I shall be safe⁠—safe from the threatened wrath
Of unknown gods, but damned forever by
The men I know⁠—that is the curse I fear. Benhadad

Speak not so high, my son. Must we not bow
Our heads before the sovereignties of heaven?
The unseen rulers are Divine.

Naaman

O King,
I am unlearned in the lore of priests;
Yet well I know that there are hidden powers
About us, working mortal weal and woe
Beyond the force of mortal to control.
And if these powers appear in love and truth,
I think they must be gods, and worship them.
But if their secret will is manifest
In blind decrees of sheer omnipotence,
That punish where no fault is found, and smite
The poor with undeserved calamity,
And pierce the undefended in the dark
With arrows of injustice, and foredoom
The innocent to burn in endless pain,
I will not call this fierce almightiness
Divine. Though I must bear, with every man,
The burden of my life ordained, I’ll keep
My soul unterrified, and tread the path
Of truth and honour with a steady heart!
But if I err in this; and if there be
Divinities whose will is cruel, unjust,
Capricious and supreme, I will forswear
The favour of these gods, and take my part
With man to suffer and for man to die.
Have ye not heard, my lords? The oracle
Proclaims to me, to me alone, the doom
Of vengeance if I lead the army out.
“Conquered or conquering!” I grip that chance!
Damascus free, her foes all beaten back,
The people saved from slavery, the King
Upheld in honour on his ancient throne⁠—
O what’s the cost of this? I’ll gladly pay
Whatever gods there be, whatever price
They ask for this one victory. Give me
This gilded sign of shame to carry back;
I’ll shake it in the face of Asshur’s king,
And break it on his teeth.

Benhadad

Rising.

Then go, my never-beaten captain, go!
And may the powers that hear thy solemn vow
Forgive thy rashness for Damascus’ sake,
Prosper thy fighting, and remit thy pledge.

Rezon

Standing beside the altar.

The pledge, O King, this man must seal his pledge
At Rimmon’s altar. He must take the cup
Of soldier-sacrament, and bind himself
By thrice-performed libation to abide
The fate he has invoked.

Naaman

Slowly.

And so I will.

He comes down the steps, toward the altar, where Rezon is filling the cup which Tsarpi holds. Ruahmah throws herself before Naaman, clasping his knees.

Ruahmah

Passionately and wildly.

My lord, I do beseech you, stay! There’s death
Within that cup. It is an offering
To devils. See, the wine blazes like fire,
It flows like blood, it is a cursed cup,
Fulfilled of treachery and hate.
Dear master, noble master, touch it not!

Naaman

Poor maid, thy brain is still distraught. Fear not
But let me go! Here, treat her tenderly!

Gives her into the hands of Saballidin.

Can harm befall me from the wife who bears
My name? I take the cup of fate from her.
I greet the unknown powers;

Pours libation.

I will perform my vow;

Again.

I will abide my fate;

Again.

I pledge my life to keep Damascus free.

He drains the cup, and lets it fall. Curtain.

Act II

Time: A week later.

The forecourt of the House of Rimmon. At the back the broad steps and double doors of the shrine: above them the tower of the god, its summit invisible. Enter various groups of citizens, talking, laughing, shouting: Rakhaz, Hazael, Shumakim and others.

First Citizen	Great news, glorious news, the Assyrians are beaten!
Second Citizen	Naaman is returning, crowned with victory. Glory to our noble captain!
Third Citizen	No, he is killed. I had it from one of the camp-followers who saw him fall at the head of the battle. They are bringing his body to bury it with honour. O sorrowful victory!
Rakhaz	Peace, my good fellows, you are ignorant, you have not been rightly informed, I will misinform you. The accounts of Naaman’s death are overdrawn. He was killed, but his life has been preserved. One of his wounds was mortal, but the other three were curable, and by these the physicians have saved him.
Shumakim	Balancing himself before RAKHAZ in pretended admiration. O wonderful! Most admirable logic! One mortal, and three curable, therefore he must recover as it were, by three to one. Rakhaz, do you know that you are a marvelous man?
Rakhaz	Yes, I know it, but I make no boast of my knowledge.
Shumakim	Too modest, for in knowing this you know what is unknown to any other in Damascus!
	Enter, from the right, Saballidin in armour: from the left, Tsarpi with her attendants, among whom is Ruahmah.
Hazael	Here is Saballidin, we’ll question him; He was enflamed by Naaman’s fiery words, And rode with him to battle. Good, my lord, We hail you as a herald of the fight You helped to win. Give us authentic news Of your great general! Is he safe and well? When will he come? Or will he come at all?
	All gather around him, listening eagerly.
Saballidin	He comes but now, returning from the field Where he hath gained a crown of deathless fame! Three times he led the charge; three times he fell Wounded, and the Assyrians beat us back. Yet every wound was but a spur to urge His valour onward. In the last attack He rode before us as the crested wave That heads the flood; and lo, our enemies Were broken like a dam of river-reeds, Burst by the torrent, scattered, swept away! But look! the Assyrian king in wavering flight Is lodged like driftwood on a little hill, Encircled by his guard, and stands at bay. Then Naaman, followed hotly by a score Of whirlwind riders, hammers through the hedge Of spearmen, brandishing the golden yoke: “Take back this gift,” he cries; and shatters it On Shalmaneser’s helmet. So the fight Dissolves in universal rout: the king, His chariots and his horsemen melt away; Our captain stands the master of the field, And saviour of Damascus! Now he brings, First to the king, report of this great triumph.
	Shouts of joy and applause.
Ruahmah	Coming close to Saballidin, But what of him who won it? Fares he well? My