CHAPTER VI
A BYZANTINE GENTLEMAN OF THE PERIOD
Sergius kept his seat on the bench; but the charm of the gloriousprospect spread out before it was gone.
Two points were swimming in his consciousness, like motes in a mist:first, there was a conspiracy afoot; next, the conspiracy was againstthe daughter of the Prince of India.
When at the door of the old Lavra upon the snow-bound shore of theWhite Lake, he bade Father Hilarion farewell and received his blessing,and the commission of an Evangel, the idea furthest from him was tosignalize his arrival in Constantinople by dropping first thing intolove. And to be just, the idea was now as distant from him as ever; yethe had a vision of the child-faced girl he met on the landing at theWhite Castle in the hands of enemies, and to almost any other personthe shrinking it occasioned would have been strange, if not suspicious.His most definite feeling was that something ought to be done in herbehalf.
Besides this the young monk had another incentive to action. In thecolloquy overheard by him the chief speaker described himself a son ofthe Hegumen of the St. James'. The St. James'! His own Brotherhood! Hisown Hegumen! Could a wicked son have been born to that excellent man?Much easier to disbelieve the conspirator; still there were traditionsof the appearance of monsters permitted for reasons clear at least toProvidence. This might be an instance of the kind. Doubtless thecreature carried on its countenance or person evidences of a miracle ofevil. In any event there could be no harm in looking at him.
Sergius accordingly arose, and set out in pursuit of the conspirators.Could he overtake the sedan, they were quite certain to be in thevicinity, and he doubted not discovering them.
The steps of the sedan-carriers, peculiarly quick and sliding, seemedin passing the bench to have been going northwardly toward PointDemetrius. Thither he first betook himself.
In the distance, over the heads of persons going and coming, he shortlybeheld the top of a chair in motion, and he followed it rapidly,fearing its occupant might quit the wall by the stairs near the stablesof the Bucoleon. But when it was borne past that descent he went moreleisurely, knowing it must meet him on the return.
Without making the Point, however, the chair was put about toward him.Unable to discover any one so much as suggestive of the plotters, andfearing a mistake, he peered into the front window of the painted box.A woman past the noon of life gave him back in no amiable mood thestare with which he saluted her.
There was but one explanation: he should have gone down the wallsouthwardly. What was to be done? Give up the chase? No, that would beto desert his little friend. And besides he had not put himself withinhearing of the design against her--it was a doing of Providence. Hestarted back on his trace.
The error but deepened his solicitude. What if the victim was thenbeing hurried away?
At the head of the stairway by the stables he paused; as it wasdeserted, he continued on almost running--on past the crackedbench--past the Cleft Gate. Now, in front, he beheld the towers of theimperial residence bearing the name Julian, and he was upbraidinghimself for indecision, and loading his conscience with whatever griefmight happen the poor girl, when he beheld a sedan coming toward him.It was very ornate, and in the distance shone with burnishments--it wasthe chair--hers. By it, on the right hand, strode the gigantic negrowho had so astonished him at the White Castle. He drew a long breath,and stopped. They would be bold who in daylight assailed that king ofmen!
And he was taking note of the fellow's barbaric finery, the solemnstateliness of his air, and the superb indifference he manifested tothe stare of passers-by, when a man approached the chair on theopposite side. The curtain of the front window was raised, and throughit, Sergius observed the inmate draw hastily away from the stranger,and drop a veil over her face.
Here was one of the parties for whom he was looking. Where was theother? Then the man by the left window looked back over his shoulder asif speaking, and out of the train of persons following the sedan, onestepped briskly forward, joined the intruder, and walked with him longenough to be spoken to, and reply briefly; after which he fell back anddisappeared. This answered the inquiry.
Assured now of one of the conspirators in sight, the monk resolved toawait the coming up. Through the front window of the carriage, whichwas truly a marvel of polish and glitter, the girl might recognize him;perhaps she would speak; or possibly the negro might recall him; ineither event he would have an excuse for intervention.
Meantime, calmly as he could--for he was young, and warm blooded, andin all respects a good instrument to be carried away by righteousindignation--he took careful note of the stranger, who kept his placeas if by warrant, occasionally addressing the shrinking maiden.
Sergius was now more curious than angry; and he cared less to know whothe conspirator was than how he looked. His surprise may be imaginedwhen, the subject of investigation having approached near enough to beperfectly observed, instead of a monster marked, like Cain, he appeareda graceful, though undersized person, with an agreeable countenance.The most unfavorable criticism he provoked was the loudness--if theword can be excused--of his dress.
A bright red cloak, hanging in ample folds from an exaggerated buckleof purple enamel on his left shoulder, draped his left side; fallingopen on the right, it was caught by another buckle just outside theright knee. The arrangement loosed the right arm, but was a serioushamper to walking, and made it inconvenient to get out the rapier, thehandle of which was protrusively suggested through the cloak. A tunicof bright orange color, short in sleeve and skirt, covered his body.Where undraped, tight-fitting hose terminating in red shoes, flashedtheir elongated black and yellow stripes with stunning effect. A redcap, pointed at top, and rolled up behind, but with a long visor-likepeak shading the eyes, and a white heron feather slanted in the band,brought the head into negligent harmony with the rest of the costume.The throat and left arm were bare, the latter from halfway above theelbow.
This was the monk's first view of a Byzantine gentleman of the periodabroad in full dress to dazzle such of the gentler sex as he mightchance to meet.
If Sergius' anticipation had been fulfilled; if, in place of theelegant, rakish-looking chevalier in florid garb, he had beenconfronted by an individual awry in body or hideous in feature, hewould not have been confused, or stood repeating to himself, "My God,can this be a son of the Hegumen?"
That one so holy could have offspring so vicious stupefied him. Theyoung man's sins would find him out--thus it was written--and then,what humiliation, what shame, what misery for the poor father!
Speeding his sympathy thus in advance, Sergius waited until theforemost of the sedan carriers gave him the customary cry of warning.As he stepped aside, two things occurred. The occupant of the boxlifted her veil and held out a hand to him. He had barely time toobserve the gesture and the countenance more childlike because of thedistress it was showing, when the negro appeared on the left side ofthe carriage. Staying a moment to swing the javelin with which he wasarmed across the top of the buckler at his back, he leaped forward withthe cry of an animal, and caught the gallant, one hand at the shoulder,the other at the knee. The cry and the seizure were parts of the sameact. Resistance had been useless had there been no surprise. The Greekhad the briefest instant to see the assailant--an instant to look upinto the face blacker of the transport of rage back of it, and to cryfor help. The mighty hands raised him bodily, and bore him swiftlytoward the sea-front of the wall.
There were spectators near by; amongst them some men; but they wereheld fast by terror. No one moved but Sergius. Having seen theprovocation, he alone comprehended the punishment intended.
The few steps to the wall were taken almost on the run. There, inkeeping with his savage nature, the negro wished to see his victimfall, but a puff of wind blew the red cloak over his eyes, and hestopped to shake it aside. The Greek in the interval seeing the jaggedrocks below, and the waves rolling in and churning themselves intofoam, caught at his enemy's head, and the teeth of the gol
d-gilt ironcrown cut his palms, bringing the blood. He writhed, and into Nilo'sears--pitiless if they had not been dead--poured screams for mercy.Then Sergius reached out, and caught him.
Nilo made no resistance. When he could free his eyes from the cloak helooked at the rescuer, who, unaware of his infirmity, was imploring him:
"As thou lovest God, and hopest mercy for thyself, do no murder!"
Now, if not so powerful as Nilo, Sergius was quite as tall; and whilethey stood looking at each other, their faces a little apart, thecontrast between them was many sided. And one might have seen theferocity of the black visage change first with pleased wonder; thenbrighten with recognition.
The Byzantine gained his feet quickly, and in his turn taken with amurderous impulse, drew his sword. Nilo, however, was quickest; thepoint of his javelin was magically promotive of Sergius' renewedefforts to terminate the affair. A great many persons were now present.To bring a multitude in hot assemblage, strife is generally morepotential than peace, assume what voice the latter may. These ralliedto Sergius' assistance; one brought the defeated youth his hat, fallenin the struggle; others helped him rearrange his dress; andcongratulating him that he was alive, they took him in their midst, andcarried him away. To have drawn upon such a giant! What a brave spiritthe lad must possess!
It pleased Sergius to think he had saved the Byzantine. His next dutywas to go to the relief of the little Princess. A dull fancy would havetaught how trying the situation must have been to her; but with him thecase was of a quick understanding quickened by solicitude. Taking Nilowith him, he made haste to the sedan.
If we pause here, venturing on the briefest break in the narrative, itis for the reader's sake exclusively. He will be sure to see how fairthe conditions are for a romantic passage between Lael and Sergius, andwe fear lest he fly his imagination too high. It is true the period wasstill roseate with knighterrantry; men wore armor, and did battlebehind shields; women were objects of devotion; conversation betweenlovers was in the style of high-flown courtesy, chary on one side,energized on the other by calls on the Saints to witness vows anddeclarations which no Saint, however dubious his reputation, could havelistened to, much less excused; yet it were not well to overlook one ortwo qualifications. The usages referred to were by no means prevalentamongst Christians in the East; in Constantinople they had no footingat all. The two Comneni, Isaac and Alexis, approached more nearly theWestern ideal of Chivalry than any of the Byzantine warriors; if notthe only genuine Knights of Byzantium, they were certainly the last ofthem; yet even they stood aghast at the fantastic manners of theFrankish armigerents who camped before their gates en route to the HolyLand. As a consequence, the language of ordinary address andintercourse amongst natives in the Orient was simple and lessdiscolored by what may be called pious profanity. Their discourse wasoften dull and prolix, but never a composite of sacrilege andexaggeration. Only in their writings were they pedantic. From this thereader can anticipate somewhat of the meeting between Sergius and Lael.It is to be borne in mind additionally that they were both young; she achild in years; he a child in lack of worldly experience. Childrencannot be other than natural.
Approaching the sedan anxiously, he found the occupant pale and faint.Nilo being close at his side, she saw them both in the same glance, andreached her hand impulsively through the window. It was a question towhich the member was offered. Sergius hesitated. Then she brought herface up unveiled.
"I know you, I know you," she said, to Sergius. "Oh, I am so glad youare come! I was so scared--so scared--I will never go from home again.You will stay with me--say you will--it will be so kind of you.... Idid not want Nilo to kill the man. I only wanted him driven off andmade let me alone. He has followed and persecuted me day after day,often as I came out. I could not set foot in the street without hisappearing. My father would have me bring Nilo along. He did not killhim, did he?"
The hand remained held out during the speech, as if asking to be taken.Meanwhile the words flowed like a torrent. The eyes were full ofbeseechment, and irresistibly lovely. If her speech was innocent, sowas her appearance; and just as innocently, he took the hand, and heldit while answering:
"He was not hurt. Friends have taken him away. Do not be afraid."
"You saved him. I saw you--my heart was standing still in my throat.Oh, I am glad he is safe! I am no longer afraid. My father will begrateful; and he is generous--he loves me nearly as much as I love him.I will go home now. Is not that best for me?"
Sergius had grown the tall man he was without having been soentreated--nay, without an adventure in the least akin to this. Thehand lay in his folded lightly. He remembered once a dove flew into hiscell. The window was so small it no doubt suggested to the poorcreature a door to a nesting place. He remembered how he thought it amessenger from the Heaven which he never gave over thinking of andlonging for, and he wanted to keep it, for afterwhile he was sure itwould find a way to tell him wherewith it was charged. And he took thegentle stray in his hand, and nursed it with exceeding tenderness.There are times when it seems such a blessing that memories lie shallowand easy to stir; and now he recalled how the winged nuncio felt likethe hand he was holding--it was almost as soft, and had the samemagnetism of life--ay, and the same scarce perceptible tremble. To besure it was merely for the bird's sake he kept hold of the hand, whilehe answered:
"Yes, I think it best, and I will go with you to your father's door."
To the carriers he said: "You will quit the wall at the grand stairs.The Princess wishes to be taken home."
The sensation of manliness incident to caring for the weak wasrefreshingly delightful. While the chair was passing he took place atthe window. The fingers of the little hand still rested on the silkenlining, like pinkish pearls. He beheld them longingly, but a restraintfell upon him. The pinkish pearls became sacred. He would have had themcovered from the dust which the whisking breezes now blew up. Thebreezes were insolent. The sun, sinking in gold over the Marmora, oughtto temper the rays it let fall on them. Long as the orb had shone, howcurious that it never acquired art enough to know the things which toomuch of its splendor might spoil. Then too he desired to speak withLael--to ask if she was any longer afraid--he could not. Where had hiscourage gone? When he caught the young Greek from Nilo, the shortestwhile ago, he was wholly unconscious of timidity. The change waswonderful. Nor was the awkwardness beginning to hamper his hands andfeet less incomprehensible. And why the embarrassment when peoplepaused to observe him?
Thus the party pursued on until the descent from the wall; he on theright side of the chair, and Nilo on the left. Down in the garden wherethey were following a walk across the terrace toward Sta. Sophia, Laelput her face to the window, and spoke to him. His eagerness lest a wordwere lost was remarkable. He did not mind the stooping--and from hisheight that was a great deal--nor care much if it subjected him toremark.
"Have you seen the Princess lately--she who lives at Therapia?" Laelasked.
"Oh, yes," he answered. "She is my little mother. I go up there often.She advises me in everything."
"It must be sweet to have such a mother," Lael said, with a smile.
"It is sweet," he returned.
"And how lovely she is, and brave and assuring," Lael added. "Why, Iforgot when with her to be afraid. I forgot we were in the hands ofthose dreadful Turks. I kept thinking of her, and not of myself."
Sergius waited for what more she had to say.
"This afternoon a messenger came from her to my father, asking him tolet me visit her."
The heart of the monk gave a jump of pleasure.
"And you will go?"
A little older and wiser, and she would have detected a certain urgencythere was in the tone with which he directed the inquiry.
"I cannot say yet. I have not seen my father since the invitation wasreceived; he has been with the Emperor; but I know how greatly headmires the Princess. I think he will consent; if so, I will go up toTherapia to-morrow."
Sergius, silently re
solving to betake himself thither early nextmorning, replied with enthusiasm: "Have you seen the garden behind herpalace?"
"No."
"Well, of course I do not know what Paradise is, but if it be accordingto my fancy, I should believe that garden is a piece of it."
"Oh, I know I shall be pleased with the Princess, her garden--witheverything hers."
Thereupon Lael settled back in her chair, and nothing more was saidtill the sedan halted in front of the Prince's door. Appearing at thewindow there, she extended a hand to her escort. The pinkish pearls didnot seem so far away as before, and they were now offered directly. Hecould not resist taking them.
"I want you to know how very, very grateful I am to you," she said,allowing the hand to stay in his. "My father will speak to you aboutthe day's adventure. He will make the opportunity andearly.--But--but"--
She hesitated, and a blush overspread her face.
"But what?" he said, encouragingly.
"I do not know your name, or where you reside."
"Sergius is my name."
"Sergius?"
"Yes. And being a monk, I have a cell in the Monastery of St. James ofManganese. I belong to that Brotherhood, and humbly pray God to keep mein good standing. Now having told you who I am, may I ask"--
He failed to finish the sentence. Happily she divined his wish.
"Oh," she said, "I am called Gul-Bahar by those who love me dearest,though my real name is Lael."
"By which am I to call you?"
"Good-by," she continued, passing his question, and the look of doubtwhich accompanied it. "Good-by--the Princess will send for meto-morrow."
When the chair was borne into the house, it seemed to Sergius the sunhad rushed suddenly down, leaving a twilight over the sky. He turnedhomeward with more worldly matter to think of than ever before. For thefirst time in his life the cloister whither he was wending seemedlonesome and uncomfortable. He was accustomed to imagine it lighted andwarmed by a presence out of Heaven--that presence was in danger ofsupersession. Occasionally, however, the girlish Princess whom he wasthus taking home with him gave place to wonder if the Greek he hadsaved from Nilo could be a son of the saintly Hegumen; and thereflection often as it returned brought a misgiving with it; for he sawto what intrigues he might be subjected, if the claim were true, andthe claimant malicious in disposition. When at last he fell asleep onhis pillow of straw the vision which tarried with him was of walkingwith Gul-Bahar in the garden behind the Homeric palace at Therapia, andit was exceedingly pleasant.