Haita The Shepherd

by Ambrose Bierce

　　

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In the heart of Haita the illusions of youth had not been supplanted bythose of age and experience. His thoughts were pure and pleasant, forhis life was simple and his soul devoid of ambition. He rose with thesun and went forth to pray at the shrine of Hastur, the god ofshepherds, who heard and was pleased. After performance of this piousrite Haita unbarred the gate of the fold and with a cheerful mind drovehis flock afield, eating his morning meal of curds and oat cake as hewent, occasionally pausing to add a few berries, cold with dew, or todrink of the waters that came away from the hills to join the stream inthe middle of the valley and be borne along with it, he knew not whither.During the long summer day, as his sheep cropped the good grasswhich the gods had made to grow for them, or lay with their forelegsdoubled under their breasts and chewed the cud, Haita, reclining in theshadow of a tree, or sitting upon a rock, played so sweet music upon hisreed pipe that sometimes from the corner of his eye he got accidentalglimpses of the minor sylvan deities, leaning forward out of the copseto hear; but if he looked at them directly they vanished. From this --for he must be thinking if he would not turn into one of his own sheep-- he drew the solemn inference that happiness may come if not sought,but if looked for will never be seen; for next to the favour of Hastur,who never disclosed himself, Haita most valued the friendly interest ofhis neighbours, the shy immortals of the wood and stream. At nightfallhe drove his flock back to the fold, saw that the gate was secure andretired to his cave for refreshment and for dreams.So passed his life, one day like another, save when the stormsuttered the wrath of an offended god. Then Haita cowered in his cave,his face hidden in his hands, and prayed that he alone might be punishedfor his sins and the world saved from destruction. Sometimes when therewas a great rain, and the stream came out of its banks, compelling himto urge his terrified flock to the uplands, he interceded for the peoplein the cities which he had been told lay in the plain beyond the twoblue hills forming the gateway of his valley.'It is kind of thee, O Hastur,' so he prayed, 'to give me mountainsso near to my dwelling and my fold that I and my sheep can escape theangry torrents; but the rest of the world thou must thyself deliver insome way that I know not of, or I will no longer worship thee.'And Hastur, knowing that Haita was a youth who kept his word,spared the cities and turned the waters into the sea.So he had lived since he could remember. He could not rightlyconceive any other mode of existence. The holy hermit who dwelt at thehead of the valley, a full hour's journey away, from whom he had heardthe tale of the great cities where dwelt people -- poor souls! -- whohad no sheep, gave him no knowledge of that early time, when, so hereasoned, he must have been small and helpless like a lamb.It was through thinking on these mysteries and marvels, and on thathorrible change to silence and decay which he felt sure must sometimecome to him, as he had seen it come to so many of his flock -- as itcame to all living things except the birds -- that Haita first becameconscious how miserable and hopeless was his lot.'It is necessary,' he said, 'that I know whence and how I came; forhow can one perform his duties unless able to judge what they are by theway in which he was entrusted with them? And what contentment can I havewhen I know not how long it is going to last? Perhaps before another sunI may be changed, and then what will become of the sheep? What, indeed,will have become of me?'Pondering these things Haita became melancholy and morose. He nolonger spoke cheerfully to his flock, nor ran with alacrity to theshrine of Hastur. In every breeze he heard whispers of malign deitieswhose existence he now first observed. Every cloud was a portentsignifying disaster, and the darkness was full of terrors. His reed pipewhen applied to his lips gave out no melody, but a dismal wail; thesylvan and riparian intelligences no longer thronged the thicket-side tolisten, but fled from the sound, as he knew by the stirred leaves andbent flowers. He relaxed his vigilance and many of his sheep strayedaway into the hills and were lost. Those that remained became lean andill for lack of good pasturage, for he would not seek it for them, butconducted them day after day to the same spot, through mere abstraction,while puzzling about life and death -- of immortality he knew not.One day while indulging in the gloomiest reflections he suddenlysprang from the rock upon which he sat, and with a determined gesture ofthe right hand exclaimed: 'I will no longer be a suppliant for knowledgewhich the gods withhold. Let them look to it that they do me no wrong. Iwill do my duty as best I can and if I err upon their own heads be it!'Suddenly, as he spoke, a great brightness fell about him, causinghim to look upward, thinking the sun had burst through a rift in theclouds; but there were no clouds. No more than an arm's length awaystood a beautiful maiden. So beautiful she was that the flowers abouther feet folded their petals in despair and bent their heads in token ofsubmission; so sweet her look that the humming-birds thronged her eyes,thrusting their thirsty bills almost into them, and the wild bees wereabout her lips. And such was her brightness that the shadows of allobjects lay divergent from her feet, turning as she moved.Haita was entranced. Rising, he knelt before her in adoration, andshe laid her hand upon his head.'Come,' she said in a voice that had the music of all the bells ofhis flock -- 'come, thou art not to worship me, who am no goddess, butif thou art truthful and dutiful I will abide with thee.'Haita seized her hand, and stammering his joy and gratitude arose,and hand in hand they stood and smiled into each other's eyes. He gazedon her with reverence and rapture. He said: 'I pray thee, lovely maid,tell me thy name and whence and why thou comest.'At this she laid a warning finger on her lip and began to withdraw.Her beauty underwent a visible alteration that made him shudder, he knewnot why, for still she was beautiful. The landscape was darkened by agiant shadow sweeping across the valley with the speed of a vulture. Inthe obscurity the maiden's figure grew dim and indistinct and her voiceseemed to come from a distance, as she said, in a tone of sorrowfulreproach: 'Presumptuous and ungrateful youth! must I then so soon leavethee? Would nothing do but thou must at once break the eternal compact?'Inexpressibly grieved, Haita fell upon his knees and implored herto remain -- rose and sought her in the deepening darkness -- ran incircles, calling to her aloud, but all in vain. She was no longervisible, but out of the gloom he heard her voice saying: 'Nay, thoushalt not have me by seeking. Go to thy duty, faithless shepherd, or weshall never meet again.'Night had fallen; the wolves were howling in the hills and theterrified sheep crowding about Haita's feet. In the demands of the hourhe forgot his disappointment, drove his sheep to the fold and repairingto the place of worship poured out his heart in gratitude to Hastur forpermitting him to save his flock, then retired to his cave and slept.When Haita awoke the sun was high and shone in at the cave,illuminating it with a great glory. And there, beside him, sat themaiden. She smiled upon him with a smile that seemed the visible musicof his pipe of reeds. He dared not speak, fearing to offend her asbefore, for he knew not what he could venture to say.'Because,' she said, 'thou didst thy duty by the flock, and didstnot forget to thank Hastur for staying the wolves of the night, I amcome to thee again. Wilt thou have me for a companion?''Who would not have thee for ever?' replied Haita. 'Oh! never againleave me until -- until I-change and become silent and motionless.'Haita had no word for death.'I wish, indeed,' he continued, 'that thou wert of my own sex, thatwe might wrestle and run races and so never tire of being together.'At these words the maiden arose and passed out of the cave, andHaita, springing from his couch of fragrant boughs to overtake anddetain her, observed to his astonishment that the rain was falling andthe stream in the middle of the valley had come out of its banks. Thesheep were bleating in terror, for the rising waters had invaded theirfold. And there was danger for the unknown cities of the distant plain.It was many days before Haita saw the maiden again. One day he wasreturning from the head of the valley, where he had gone with ewe's milkand oat cake and berries for the holy hermit, who was too old and feebleto provide himself with food.'Poor old man!' he said aloud, as he trudged along homeward. 'Iwill return to-morrow and bear him on my back to my own dwelling, whereI can care for him. Doubtless it is for this that Hastur has reared meall these many years, and gives me health and strength.'As he spoke, the maiden, clad in glittering garments, met him inthe path with a smile that took away his breath.'I am come again,' she said, 'to dwell with thee if thou wilt nowhave me, for none else will. Thou mayest have learned wisdom, and artwilling to take me as I am, nor care to know.'Haita threw himself at her feet. 'Beautiful being,' he cried, 'ifthou wilt but deign to accept all the devotion of my heart and soul --after Hastur be served -- it is thine for ever. But, alas! thou artcapricious and wayward. Before to-morrow's sun I may lose thee again.Promise, I beseech thee, that however in my ignorance I may offend, thouwilt forgive and remain always with me.'Scarcely had he finished speaking when a troop of bears came out ofthe hills, racing toward him with crimson mouths and fiery eyes. Themaiden again vanished, and he turned and fled for his life. Nor did hestop until he was in the cot of the holy hermit, whence he had set out.Hastily barring the door against the bears he cast himself upon theground and wept.'My son,' said the hermit from his couch of straw, freshly gatheredthat morning by Haita's hands, 'it is not like thee to weep for bears --tell me what sorrow hath befallen thee, that age may minister to thehurts of youth with such balms as it hath of its wisdom.'Haita told him all: how thrice he had met the radiant maid andthrice she had left him forlorn. He related minutely all that had passedbetween them, omitting no word of what had been said.When he had ended, the holy hermit was a moment silent, then said:'My son, I have attended to thy story, and I know the maiden. I havemyself seen her, as have many. Know, then, that her name, which shewould not even permit thee to inquire, is Happiness. Thou saidst thetruth to her, that she is capricious, for she imposeth conditions thatman cannot fulfil, and delinquency is punished by desertion. She comethonly when unsought, and will not be questioned. One manifestation ofcuriosity, one sign of doubt, one expression of misgiving, and she isaway! How long didst thou have her at any time before she fled?''Only a single instant,' answered Haita, blushing with shame at theconfession. 'Each time I drove her away in one moment.''Unfortunate youth!' said the holy hermit, 'but for thineindiscretion thou mightst have had her for two.'

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