*CHAPTER X*
*THE SICILIAN DANCER*
After a fruitless search for the hapless victim of the Roman baron'slicentiousness, in order to restore her in safety to her kindred orfriends, Eckhardt concluded at last that she had found a haven ofsecurity and turned his back upon the Ghetto and its panic-strickeninmates without bestowing another thought upon an incident, in itselfnot uncommon and but an evidence of the deep-rooted social disorder ofthe times. His thoughts reverted rather to the attempt upon the life ofthe pontifical delegate, which some happy chance had permitted him tofrustrate, but in vain did he try to fathom the reasons prompting adeed, the accomplishment of which seemed to hold out such meagre promiseof reward to its perpetrators, whose persons were enshrouded in a veilof mystery. Eckhardt could only assign personal reasons to an attempt,which, if successful, could not enrich the moving spirits of the plot, aconsideration always uppermost in men's minds, and pondering thus overthe strange events, the commander aimlessly pursued his way in adirection opposite to the one the monk and his following had chosen forthe pursuit of the baron. How long he had thus strolled onward, he knewnot, when he found himself in the space before the Capitol. The moongleamed pale as an alabaster lamp in the dark azure of the heavens,trembling luminously on the waters of a fountain which flowed frombeneath the Capitoline rock.
Here some scattered groups of the populace sat or lolled on the ground,discussing the events of the day, jesting, laughing or love-making.Others paraded up and down, engaged in conversation and enjoying thebalmy night air, tinged with the breath of departing summer.
Wearied with thought, Eckhardt made his way to the fountain, and, seatedon the margin regardless of the chattering groups which continuallyclustered round it and dispersed, he felt his spirits grow calm in themonotony of the gurgling flow of the water, which was streaming down therock and spurting from several grotesque mouths of lions and dolphins.The stars sparkled over the dark, towering cypresses, which crowned thesurrounding eminences, and the palaces and ruins upon them stood forthin distinctness of splendour or desolation against the luminousbrightness of the moonlit sky.
Eckhardt's ruminations were interrupted by the sound of a tambourine,and looking up from his reverie, he perceived that the populace weregathering in a wide circle before the fountain, attracted by the soundof the instrument. In the background, kept thus remote by the vigilanceof an old woman and two half-savage Calabrians, who seemed to be theproprietors of the show, stood a young woman in the garb of a Sicilian,apparently just preparing to dance. She seemed to belong to a class ofdamsels who were ordained under severe penalties to go masked during allreligious festivals, to protect the pilgrims from the influence of theirbaleful charms. Else there could be no reason why an itinerant femalejuggler or minstrel who employed the talents, which the harmoniousclimate of Italy lavishes on its poorest children, to enable them toearn a scant living from the rude populace, should affect the modesty orprecaution of a mask. But her tall, voluptuous form as she stoodcollecting her audience with the ringing chimes of her tambourine,garbed as she was in that graceful Sicilian costume, which still retainsthe elegance of its Greek original, proved allurement enough despite hermask. While thus unconsciously diverting his disturbed fancies,Eckhardt became aware, that he had himself attracted the notice of thedancer, for he encountered her gaze beaming on him from the depths ofher green-speckled mask, which its ordainer had intended to representthe corruption of disease, but which the humour of the populace hadtransmuted into a more pleasant association, by calling them, "Cardinalmelons."
The dancer started from her somewhat listless attitude into one ofgayety and animation, when she saw how earnestly the dark strangerscrutinized her, and tripping across the intervening space, she pausedbefore him and said in a voice whose music flowed to his heart in itsmingled humility and tenderness:
"Sainted Stranger! Will you disdain dancing the Tarantella with a poorSicilian sinner for the love of Santa Rosalia?"
"Thou art like to make many for the love of thyself," replied Eckhardt."But it were little seemly to behold a sinner in my weeds join in thedance with one in thine."
As he spoke, he peered so intently into the masked visage of theSicilian dancer, that she precipitately retreated.
"Nay--then I must use my spells," she replied after a moment's thought,and glancing round the circle, which was constantly increasing, sheadded slowly, "my spells to raise the dead, since love and passion aredead in your consecrated breast! Mother--my mandolin!"
The smile of her lips seemed to gleam even through her mask as she threwher tambourine by its silver chain over her shoulders, taking insteadthe instrument, which one of the Calabrians handed to her. Tuning hermandolin she again turned to Eckhardt.
"But first you must fairly answer a question, else I shall not knowwhich of my spells to use: for with some memory alone avails,--withothers hope."
And without waiting his reply, she began to sing in a voice ofindescribable sweetness. After the second stanza she paused, apparentlyto await the reply to her question, while a murmur of delight ranthrough the ranks of her listeners. The first sound of her voice hadfixed Eckhardt's attention, not alone for its exquisite purity andsweetness, but the strange, mysterious air which hovered round her,despite her demeaning attire.
Yet his reply partook of the asperity of his Northern forests.
"Deem you such gossamer subtleties were likely to find anchorage in thisrestless breast, which, you hear, I strike and it answers with the soundof steel?"
"Nay, then so much the worse for you," replied the dancer. "For wherethe pure spirit comes not,--the dark one will," and she continued hersong in a voice of still more mellow and alluring sweetness.
Suddenly she approached him again, her air more mysterious than ever.
"Ah!" she whispered. "And I could teach you even a sweeter lesson,--butyou men will never learn it, as long as women have been trying to teachit on earth."
"Wherefore then wear you this mask?" questioned Eckhardt with a severityin his tone, which seemed to stagger the girl.
"To please one greater than myself," the dancer replied with a mock bow,which produced a general outburst of laughter.
"Well then,--what do you want with me? Why do you shrink away?"
"Nay,--if you will not dance with me, I must look for another partner,for my mother grows impatient, as you may see by the twirling of hergirdle," replied the girl pettishly. "I never cared who it wasbefore,--and now simply because I like you, you hate me."
"You know it is the bite of the poison spider, for which the Tarantellais the antidote," spoke Eckhardt sternly.
Without replying the girl began her dance anew, flitting before herindifferent spectator in a maze of serpentine movements, at oncealluring and bewildering to the eye. And to complete her mockery of hisapathy, she continued to sing even during all the vagaries of her dance.
The crowd looked on with constantly increasing delight testifying itsenthusiasm with occasional outbursts of joyful acclamation. Showers ofsilver, even gold, which fell in the circle, showed that the motleyaudience had not exhausted its resources in pious contributions, and thecoins were greedily gathered in by the old woman and her comrades, whileseveral nobles who had joined the concourse whispered to the hag, gaveher rings and other rich pledges, all of which she accepted, repayingthe donors with the less substantial coin of promise.
Suddenly the relentless fair one concluded her mazy circles by formingone with her nude arms over Eckhardt's head and inclining herselftowards him, she whispered a few words into his ear. A lightning changeseemed to come over the commander's countenance, intensifying itspallor, and struck with the impression she had produced, the Siciliancontinued her importunities, nodding towards the old hag in thebackground, until Eckhardt half reluctantly, half wrathfully permittedhimself to be drawn towards the group, of which the old woman formed thecenter. Pausing before her and whispering a few words
into her ear,which caused the hag to glance up with a scowling leer, the girl took asmall bronze mirror of oval shape from beneath her tunic and afterbreathing upon the surface, requested the old woman to proceed with thespell. The two Calabrians hurriedly gathered some dried leaves, whichthey stuffed under a tripod, that seemed to constitute the entirestock-in-trade of the group. After placing thereon a copper brazier, onwhich the old woman scattered some spices, the latter commanded the girlto hold the mirror over the fumes, which began to rise, after the twoCalabrians had set the leaves on fire. The flames, which greedilylicked them up, cast a strange illumination over the scene. The crowdsattracted by the uncommon spectacle pushed nearer and nearer, whileEckhardt watched the process with an air of ill-disguised impatience andannoyance leaning upon his huge brand.
The old woman was mumbling some words in a strange unintelligible jargonand the Calabrians were replenishing the consumed leaves with a newsupply they had gathered up, when Eckhardt's strange companion drawingcloser, whispered to him:
"Now your wish! Think it--but do not speak!"
Eckhardt nodded, half indifferently, half irritated, when the girlsuddenly held the bronze mirror before his eyes and bade him look. Butno sooner had he obeyed her behest, than with an outcry of amazement hedarted forward and fairly captured his unsuspecting tormentor.
"Who are you?" he questioned breathlessly, "to read men's thoughts andthe silent wish of their heart?"
But in his eagerness he probably hurt the girl against the iron scales,of whose jangling he had boasted, for she uttered a cry and called ingreat terror: "Rescue--Rescue!"
Before the words were well uttered the two Calabrians rushed towardsthem with drawn daggers. The mob also raised a shout and seemed tomeditate interference. This uproar changed the nature of the dancer'salarm.
"In our Holy Mother's name--forbear--" she addressed the two Calabrians,and the mob, and turning to her captor, she muttered in a tone of almostabject entreaty:
"Release me--noble stranger! Indeed I am not what I seem, and to berecognized here would be my ruin. Nay--look not so incredulous! I havebut played this trick on you, to learn if you indeed hated allwoman-kind. You think me beautiful,--ah! Could you but see mymistress! You would surely forget these poor charms of mine."
"And who is your mistress?" questioned Eckhardt persisting in hisendeavour to remove her mask, and still under the spell of the strangeand to him inexplicable vision in the bronze mirror.
Persisting in his endeavour to remove her mask.]
"Mercy--mercy! You know it is a grievous offence to be seen without myCardinal melon," pleaded the girl with a return of the wiling witcheryin her tones and attempting, but in vain, to release herself fromEckhardt's determined grasp.
"Who is your mistress?" insisted the Margrave. "And who are you?"
"Release the wanton! How dare you, a soldier of the church, break thecommands of the Apostolic lieutenant?" exclaimed a husky voice and astrong arm grasped Eckhardt's shoulder. Turning round, the latter sawhimself confronted by the towering form of the monk Nilus, who seemedignorant of the person and rank of him he was addressing and whosecountenance flamed with fanatic wrath.
"Ay! And it hath come to my turn to rescue damsels, and moreover toserve the church," added another speaker in a bantering tone andEckhardt instantly recognized the Lord Vitelozzo, who having eluded thepursuit of the monk of Cluny, held a mace he had secured in lieu of hiscross-bow high and menacingly in the air.
"Friar, look to your ally, if such he be, lest I do what I should havedone before and make a very harmless rogue of him," said Eckhardt,holding the girl with one hand while with the other he unsheathed hissword.
"Peace, fool!" the monk addressed his would-be ally, drawing him backforcibly. "The church needs not the aid of one rogue to subdue another.Let the girl go, my son!" he then turned to the Margrave.
"Nay, father--by these bruises, which still ache, I will retrieve mywrong and rescue the wench," insisted the Roman, again raising hismassive weapon, but the monk and some bystanders wedged themselvesbetween Eckhardt and his opponent.
"Nay, then, now we are like to have good sport," exclaimed a fourth. "Amonk, a woman and a soldier,--it requires not more to set the worldablaze."
"Stranger,--I implore you, release me," whispered Eckhardt's captivewith frantic entreaty amidst the ever increasing tumult of thebystanders, who appeared to be divided, some favouring the monk, whileothers sided with the girl's captor, whose intentions they sorelymisconstrued. "I would not stand revealed to yonder monk for all theworld!" concluded the girl in fear-struck tones.
At this moment a cry among the bystanders warned Eckhardt thatVitelozzo's wrath had at length mastered every effort to restrain him,and, whirling round, to defend himself he was compelled to release thegirl. But instead of making the use she might have been expected to doof her liberty, she called to the monk, to part the combatants in thename of the saints.
But it required no expostulation on the part of the friar, for whenEckhardt turned fully upon him, Vitelozzo, for the first timerecognizing his antagonist, beat a precipitate retreat, but at somedistance he turned, shouting derisively:
"An olive for a fig! Your dove has flown!" and when Eckhardt,recovering from his surprise, wheeled about, he found, much to hischagrin, the Roman's words confirmed by the absence of the girl as wellas of her associates, who managed to make their escape at the momentwhen the impending encounter had momentarily drawn off the attention ofthe crowd.
"The devil can speak truth, they say, though I believed it not tillnow," muttered Eckhardt to himself as, vexed and mystified beyondmeasure, he strode through the scattering crowds.
Had it been some jeer of the fiend? Had he been made the victim of somemonstrous deceit?
Who was the Sicilian dancer, whose manners and golden language beliedher demeaning attire, whose strange eyes had penetrated into thedarkness of his soul, whose voice had thrilled him with the echoes ofone long silent and forever?
The magic mirror in which, as in a haze, he had seen the one face hemost longed to see,--the strange and sudden fulfillment of the unspokenwish of his heart,--the dancer's marked persistence in the face of hisdeclared abhorrence,--her mask and her incongruous companions,--her fearof the monk and concern for himself,--all these incidents, which one byone floated on the mirror of his memory, rose ever and anon before hisinner gaze--each time more mystifying and bewildering.
In deep rumination Eckhardt pursued his way, gazing absently upon theroofless columns and shattered walls, everywhere visible, over which thestar-light shone--ghostly and transparent, backed by the frowning andembattled fortresses of the Cavalli, half hidden by the dark foliagethat sprang up amidst the very fanes and palaces of old. Now and thenhe paused with a deep and heavy sigh, as he pondered over the dark anddesolate path upon which he was about to enter, over the lack of aguiding hand in which he might trust, over the uncertainty of the step,which, once taken was beyond recall.
Suddenly a light caught the solitary rambler's eye, a light almost likea star, scarcely larger indeed, but more red and intense in its ray. Ofitself it was nothing uncommon and might have shone from either conventor cottage. But it streamed from a part of the Aventine, whichcontained no habitations of the living, only deserted ruins andshattered porticoes of which even the names and memories of their formerinhabitants had been long forgotten. Aware of this, Eckhardt felt aslight awe, as the light threw its unsteady beam over the drearylandscape; for he was by no means free from the superstition of the ageand it was near the hour consecrated to witches and ghosts.
But fear, whether of this world or the next, could not long daunt themind of the Margrave; and after a brief hesitation he resolved to make adigression from his way, to discover the cause of the phenomenon.Unconsciously Eckhardt's tread passed over the site of the ill-famedtemple of Isis which had at one time witnessed those wildest of orgiescommemorated by the pen of Juvenal. At last he came to a dense and darkcopse from an
opening in the center of which gleamed the mysteriouslight. Penetrating the gloomy foliage Eckhardt found himself before alarge ruin, grey and roofless. Through a rift in the wall, forming akind of casement and about ten feet from the ground, the light gleamedover the matted and rank soil, embedded, as it were, in vast masses ofshade. Without knowing it, Eckhardt stood on the very spot onceconsecrated to the cult of the Egyptian goddess, and now shunned as anabode of evil spirits. The walls of the ruin were covered with a densegrowth of creepers, which entwined even the crumbled portico to anextent that made it almost impossible to penetrate into its intricatelabyrinth of corridors.
While indulging in a thousand speculations, occasioned by the hour andthe spot, Eckhardt suddenly perceived a shadow in the portico. Only thehead was visible in the moonlight, which bathed the ruin, and itdisappeared almost as quickly as it had been revealed. While meditatingupon the expediency of exploring the mystery which confronted him,Eckhardt was startled by the sound of footsteps. Straining his gazethrough the haze of the moonlight he beheld emerging from the portico ofthe temple the tall form of a man, wrapt in a long black cloak. He worea conical hat with sloping brim which entirely shadowed his face and onhis right arm he carried the apparently lifeless body of a girl. Withthe object of preventing a probable crime Eckhardt stepped from hisplace of concealment just as the stranger was about to pass him with hismysterious burden and placed his hands arrestingly on the other'sshoulder.
"Who are you? And what is your business here?" he questioned curtly,attempting to remove the stranger's vizor.
"The one matters little to your business,--the other little to mine,"the tall individual replied enigmatically while he dexterously resistedhis questioner's effort to gain a glimpse at his face. "But," he addedin a strange oracular tone, which moved Eckhardt despite himself, "ifyou value my aid in your hour of trial--assist me now in my hour ofneed!"
"Your aid?" echoed Eckhardt, staring amazed at his companion. "Do youknow me? In what can you assist me?"
"You are Eckhardt the Margrave," replied the stranger; then inclininghis head slightly towards him he whispered a word, the effect of whichseemed to paralyze his listener, for his arresting hand fell and heretreated a step or two, surveying him in speechless wonder.
"Who are you?" he stammered at last.
The stranger raised the long visor of his conical hat. An exclamationof surprise came from Eckhardt's lips.
"Hezilo, the harper!"
The other replied with a silent nod.
"And we have never met!"
"I seldom go out!" said the harper.
"What know you of Ginevra?" begged the Margrave.
The harper shook his head.
"This is neither the time, nor the place. I must be gone--to shelter myburden! We shall meet again! If you follow me," he concluded, notingEckhardt's persistence, "you will learn nothing and only endanger mysafety and that of this child!"
"Is she dead?" Eckhardt questioned with a shudder.
"Would she were!" replied the stranger mournfully.
"Can I assist you?"
"I thank you! The burden is light. We will meet again."
There was something in the harper's tone which arrested Eckhardt'sdesire to ignore his injunction. How long he remained on the site ofthe ill-famed ruin, the Margrave hardly knew. When the fresh breeze ofnight, blowing from the Campagna, roused him at last from his reveriethe mysterious stranger and his equally mysterious burden haddisappeared in the haze of the moonlit night. Like one walking in adream Eckhardt slowly retraced his steps to his palace on the CaelianMount, where an imperial order sanctioning his purpose and relieving himof his command awaited him.