The Eye of Istar: A Romance of the Land of No Return

The visitor to England’s national collection of antiquities may discover it in the Assyrian Room, reposing upon its tiny cushion of purple velvet, fashioned from the papakha of the Goddess of Love, the couch of Istar, a mute relic of one of the greatest monarchs the world has ever known. Before it a neat black tablet, with gold lettering, gives a translation of the injunction regarding the placing on the breast of the first-born the device known as the Mark of the Asps, together with a statement as to its date. Many, perhaps, have seen it during the past twelve months, but none know its real history, which I have here written for the first time. After reading this record they may possibly linger before the case containing it a trifle longer, and reflect upon the curious chain of incidents which caused the ragged, wandering Dervish, who carried it forgotten in his charm-case, to become ruler of a land the existence of which was hitherto unknown, and to secure as wife the sweetest woman his eyes had ever beheld.

With Azala as my wife, mine is a life of happiness unalloyed. Of a verity ours is a rose-garden of peace. The only murmur of discontent ever heard within our kingdom is because the shaft of white brilliance no longer shines to remind the vanquished of the cruel but beautiful queen they idolised as Goddess of Love, and to give them promise of freedom from the Moslem yoke. But the light that had shone on uninterruptedly through forty centuries has never burned since that memorable night when I quenched it, and never will again.

Its extinguishment was emblematic of my complete conquest of the Land of the No Return. I have closed for all time the ever-vigilant Eye of Istar.

The End.