The Sorceress of Rome

  *CHAPTER XIII*

  *DEAD LEAVES*

  While the Nubians set about in cleaning the hall and removing the lastvestiges of the night's debauch, Theodora faced Benilo with suchcontempt in her dark eyes, that for a moment the Chamberlain's boastedinsolence almost deserted him, and though seething with rage at thechastisement inflicted upon him he awaited her speech in silence. Shefaced him, leaning against a marble statue, her hands playing nervouslywith the whip.

  "For once I have discovered you in your true station, the station of thefoul, crouching beast, to which you were born, had not some accidentplayed into the devil's hands by giving you the glittering semblance ofthe snake," she said slowly and with a disdain ringing from her words,which cut even his debased nature to the core. "I have whipped you, asone whips a cur: do you still desire me for your wife?"

  With lips tightly compressed he looked down, not daring to meet herfierce gaze of hatred, which was burning into his very brain.

  "I see little reason for changing my mind," he replied after a briefpause, while as he spoke his cheek seemed to burn with shame, where thewhip had struck it, and her evil, terrible beauty, exposed in her airynight-robe, roused all the wild demoniacal passions in his soul.

  The whip trembled in her hands.

  "And you call yourself a man!" she said with a withering look ofcontempt, under which he winced.

  Then she continued in a hard and cheerless voice, wherein spoke morethan simple aversion, a voice that seemed as it were petrified withgrief, with remorse and hatred of the man who had been the cause of herfall.

  "Listen to me, Benilo,--mark well my words. What I have been, you know:the beloved, the adored wife of a man, who would have carried me throughlife's storms under the shelter of his love,--a man, who would have shedthe last drop of his life's blood for Ginevra,--that was. For two yearswe lived in happiness. I had begged him never to lift the veil whichshrouded my birth,--a wish he respected, a promise he kept. In thefield and at court he pursued the even tenor of his way,--happy andcontent with my love. Then there crept into our home a hypocrite, aliar, a fiend, who could mock the devils in hell to scorn. He standsthere,--Benilo, his name,--a foul thing, who shrank from nothing to gainhis ends. Some fiend revealed to him the awful secret of Ginevra'sbirth, a secret which he used to draw her step by step from the man sheloved, to perpetrate a deceit, the cunning of which would put the devilsto blush. He promised to restore to her what is her own by right of herbirth. He roused in her all the evil which ran riot in her blood, andwhen she had given herself to him, he revealed himself the lying fiendhe was. Stung by the furies of remorse, which haunted her night andday,--in her despair the woman made her love the prize, wherewith topurchase that for which she had broken the holiest ties. But those shemade happy were beasts,--enjoying her favour, giving nothing in return.My heart is sick of it,--sick of this sham, sick of this baseness.Heaven once vouchsafed me a sinner's glimpse of paradise, of a home ofpurity and peace where indeed I might have been a queen,--a queen sodifferent from the one who rules a gilded charnel-house."

  Benilo had listened in silent amazement. He failed to sound the driftof Theodora's speech. The whip-lash burned on his cheek. Her suddendejection gave him back some of his former courage.

  "I believe Theodora is discovering that she once possessed aconscience," he said with a sardonic smile. "How does the violentchange agree with you?" he drawled insolently, for the first timeraising his eyes to hers.

  She appeared not to heed the question, but nodding wearily she said:

  "I am not myself to-night. Despite all which has happened, I stand herea suppliant before the man who has ruined my life. I have somethingelse to say."

  "Then I fear you have played your game and lost," he said brutally.

  Theodore interrupted his speech with a gesture, and when she spoke, ashade of sadness touched her halting tones.

  "Last night he came to me in my dream.--I will never forget theexpression with which he regarded me. I am weary of it all,--weary untodeath."

  "Unfortunately our wager does not concern itself withsleep-walking--though it seems your only chance of luring yourover-scrupulous mate to your bower."

  The woman started.

  "Surely, you do not mean to hold me to the wager?"

  He smiled sardonically.

  "Considering the risk I run in this affair--why not? Eckhardt is a manof action--so is Benilo,--who has performed the rare miracle ofcompelling the grave to return to his arms Ginevra, a queen indeed,--ofher kind."

  Surely some extraordinary change had taken place in the bosom of thewoman before him. She received the thrust without parrying it.

  "I see," he continued after a brief pause, "Eckhardt proves too mighty arock, even for Theodora to move!"

  "His will is strong--but all night in his lonely cell he calledGinevra's name."

  "You are well informed. Why not take the veil yourself,--since a lifeof serene placidity seems so suddenly to your taste?"

  "And where is it written that I shall not?" she questioned, looking himfull in the eye. Benilo winced. If she would but quarrel. He feltinsecure in her present mood.

  "Here--on the tablets of my memory, where a certain wager is recorded,"he replied.

  She turned upon him angrily.

  "It is you who forced me to it against my will.--I took up yourgauntlet, stung by your biting ridicule, goaded by your insults to aweak and senseless folly."

  "Then you acknowledge yourself vanquished?"

  "I am not vanquished. What I undertake, I carry through--if I wish tocarry it through."

  "It has to my mind ceased to be a matter of choice with you," drawledthe Chamberlain. "In three days Eckhardt's fate will be sealed,--as faras this world of ours is concerned. You see, your chances are small andyou have no time to lose."

  "Day after to-morrow--holy Virgin--so soon?" gasped Theodora.

  "You have inadvertently called on one whose calls you have not of latereturned," sneered the Chamberlain, with insolent nonchalance.

  "Day after to-morrow," Theodora repeated, stroking her brow with onewhite hand. "Day after to-morrow!"

  "Do not despair," Benilo drawled sardonically. "Much can happen in twodays."

  She did not seem to hear him. Her thoughts seemed to roam far away.Then they returned to earth. For a moment she studied the man beforeher in silence, then dropping the whip, she stretched out her hand tohim.

  "Release me from this wager," she pleaded, "and all shall be forgottenand forgiven."

  He did not touch the hand. It fell.

  "Theodora," he whispered hoarsely. "You will never know how I love you!I am not as evil as I seem. But there are moments when I lose controland madness chokes my better self, in the hopeless hunt for your love.Theodora--bury the past! Give up this baleful existence--live with meagain."

  She laughed a shrill laugh.

  "Your concubine! And you have the courage to ask this?"

  "You know I love the very ground you tread on."

  "Is that all you have to tell me?"

  "Is not that enough?"

  "No--it is not enough!" she replied with flashing eyes. "Between usstand the barriers of eternity!"

  He paled.

  "Do not dismiss me like this. It is far more cruel than you know. Ifyou kill my hope, you leave me a prey to the devils of jealousy andmadness,--the evil things of your own creation! Come back to me! Ionly ask the love you gave me once,--the love you thought you gaveme,--a grain, a crumb."

  She turned her face away.

  "Never again! Never again!"

  The fevered blood raced swiftly from his cheek. For a moment he watchedher in silence, his eyes like slits in his hard, pale face, then heturned on his heel and laughed aloud.

  A shudder she could not repress crept over the woman's soft, white skin.

  "Benilo!" she called to him. He turned and came slowly back.

&n
bsp; "Benilo," she continued nervously, "release me from this wager! Icannot go on--I cannot. If he is bent upon leaving the world, let himretire in peace and do not stir the misery which lies couchant in thehidden depths of his soul. He has suffered enough,--more thanenough,--more than should fall to one man's lot. Do not drive me tomadness,--I cannot do it--I cannot."

  "Your thoughts are only for him. For me you have nothing," he repliedfiercely.

  "I owe him everything--nothing to you!"

  "Then go to him, to release you,--I will not!"

  "I cannot do it! Be merciful!"

  The Chamberlain bowed and answered mockingly.

  "It rests with you!"

  "With me?"

  "Acknowledge your defeat!"

  "What do you mean?" she asked with rising fear.

  Benilo shrugged his shoulders.

  "We made a wager--the loser pays."

  "But the forfeit?" she cried in terror. "You would not claim--you wouldnot chain me to you for ever?"

  He regarded her with a slow triumphant smile and answered cruelly:

  "Forever? At one time the thought had less terrors for you!"

  She disregarded his sarcasm, continuing in the same plaintive tone ofentreaty, which was music in Benilo's ear.

  "But surely--you do not mean it! You would not profit by a woman'sangry folly. I was mad,--insane,--I knew not what I said, what I did!Benilo, I will admit defeat,--failure,--anything,--only release me fromthis fearful wager. I ask you as a man,--have pity on me!"

  "What pity have you lavished on me?"

  "Were you deserving of pity?"

  "My love--"

  "Your love! What is your love, but the lust of the wild beast?" sheexclaimed, flying into a passion, but instantly checking herself.

  "Think of it, Benilo," she urged in desperation, "I could conquer, if Iwould. Once Eckhardt lays eyes on me, I can lead him to my will. Nevercan I forget the look he gave me when I faced him before my own tomb inthe churchyard of San Pancrazio. Never will that wild expression ofdespair and longing, which spoke to me from his mute eyes, fade from mymemory. Whether he believed that I was a pale, mocking phantom--what heimagined that I was, I know not--I could win him, if I would."

  "Then win him!" snarled Benilo, through his straight thin lips.

  "No! No!" she cried piteously. "Eckhardt is noble. He believed inme,--he trusted me. He believes me dead. He has no inkling of the vilething I am! I listened to his prayer to the Virgin--once more he askedto see the face of the woman he had loved above everything on earth.And you ask me to tear the veil from his eyes and drag him down into thesloth and slime of my existence! His faith falls upon me like a knottedscourge,--his love--a blow upon my guilty head. He gave me life-longlove in payment for a lie; he gave me love unwavering and true beyondthe grave. When I think of it all--I long to die of shame! You causedme to believe he was dead,--that he had fallen defending the EasternMarch. I thanked Heaven for the message; I envied him his eternal rest.It was one of your black deceits,--perhaps one of your mildest. Let itpass! But again to enter into his life--No! no!" she moaned. "By theGod of Love--I will not!"

  She gave a wild moan and covered her face with her hands. Benilo lookedon in silence, scarce crediting the proof of sight and sound.Once--twice he moved his lips, ere speech would flow.

  "You have but to choose," he said. "Come to me--my wife orconcubine,--I care not which, and I pledge you my word, he shall die! Ihave but spared him until I sounded your humour!"

  She shivered, and raised her hands as if to conjure away someapparition.

  "No--no--never!" she gasped. "You would not dare! You would not dare!You are but frightening me! Have pity on me and let me go!"

  "I do not detain you! Go if you will, but remember the wager!"

  Her head drooped, while Benilo drew nearer, bending his exultant eyes onher wilted form, and in the passion which mastered him, he grasped herwrists and drew her hands apart, then kissed her passionately upon thelips.

  With a hunted cry, she wrenched herself away, and leaping backward,faced him, her voice choked with panting fury:

  "Fool! Devil! Coward! Could you not respect a woman's grief for thedegradation you have forced upon her? Dog! I might have paid yourforfeit had I died of shame! But now--I will not!" She snapped herfingers in his face. "This for your wager! This for an oath toyou--the vermin of the earth!"

  Benilo took a backward step, awed by the flaming madness in her eyes.

  "Take care!" he growled threateningly.

  "The vermin that crawls in the dust, I say," she reiterated panting,"the dust--the dust! Better a thousand deaths than the brute love youoffer! Between us it is a duel to the death! I will win him back,--ifI have to barter my evil beauty for eternal damnation,--if our entwinedsouls burn to crisp in purgatory,--I will win him back, revealing myselfto him the foul thing I am,--and by way of contrast sing your praises,my Lord Benilo--believe me,--the devils themselves shall be wroth withjealousy at my song."

  There was something in the woman's eye, which staggered the Chamberlain.

  "You would not dare!" he exclaimed aghast.

  "I dare everything! You have challenged me and now your coward soulquails before the issue!--You would have me recede,--go! I've done withyou!"

  "Not yet," Benilo replied, with his sinister drawl--edging nearer thewoman. "I have something else to say to you! Your words are but air!You have measured your strength with mine and failed! Go to your oldtime love! Tell him you found a conscience,--tell him where you foundit,--and see if he allows you leisure to confess all your otherpeccadilloes, trifling though they be! Still--the risk is equal. Ihave a mind to take the chance! Once more, Theodora,--confess yourselfdefeated,--acknowledge that the champion is beyond your reach--bemine--and the wager shall be wiped out!"

  She recoiled from him, raising her hands in unfeigned horror and cried:

  "Never--never."

  Benilo shrugged his shoulders.

  "As you will!"

  "Then you would have me make him untrue to his vows? You would have meadd this sin too, to my others?"

  He laughed sardonically, while he feasted his eyes on her great beauty.

  "It will not add much to the burden, I ween."

  She gave him one look, in which fear mingled with contempt and turned togo, when with a spring, stealthy as the panther's, he overtook her, andpinning down her arms, bent back the proud head and once more pressedhis lips upon the woman's.

  With a cry like a wounded animal she released herself, pushed him backwith the strength of her vigorous youth and spat in his face.

  "Do you still desire me?" she hissed with flaming eyes.

  He sprang at her with a furious oath, but his outstretched fingersgrasped the air. Theodora had vanished. Recoiling from the toweringforms of the Africans, who guarded the corridor leading to herapartments, Benilo staggered blindly back into the dark deserted halls.Here he found himself face to face with Hezilo the harper, who seemed torise out of the shadows like some ill-omened phantom.

  "If you waver now," the harper spoke with his strange unimpassionedvoice,--"you are lost!"

  The Chamberlain stopped before the harper's arresting words.

  "What can I do?" he groaned with a deep breath. "My soul half sinksbeneath the mighty burden I have heaped upon it, it quails before thefatal issue."

  "You have measured your strength with the woman's," replied the harper."She has felt the conquering whip-hand. Onward! Unflinchingly!Relentlessly! She dare not face the final issue!"

  "I need new courage, as the dread hour approaches!" Benilo replied, hisbreath coming fast between his set teeth. "And from your words, yourlooks, I drink it!"

  "Then take it from this also: If now you fail hardly the grave would bea refuge."

  Benilo peered up at his strange counsellor.

  "Man or devil,--who are you to read the depths of the soul of man?" hequeried amazed, vainly endeavouring to penetrate the
vizor, which shadedthe harper's face.

  "Perhaps neither," a voice answered which seemed to come from theremotest part of the great hall, yet it was Hezilo the harper, whospoke, "Perchance some spirit, permitted to return to earth to goad manto his final and greatest fall."

  "It shall be as you say!" Benilo spoke, rousing himself. "Onward!Relentlessly! Unflinchingly!"

  He staggered from the hall.

  "Perhaps I too should have flagged and failed, had not one thoughtwhispered hope to me in the long and solitary hours which fill up theinterstices of time," muttered the harper, gazing after theChamberlain's vanishing form.

  The voices died to silence. The pale light of dawn peered into thedeserted hall.