*CHAPTER III*
*THE ELIXIR OF LOVE*
It was late on the following evening, when in the hermitage of Nilus ofGaeta, Eckhardt woke from the death-like stupor which had bound hislimbs since the terrible scenes of the previous night. Thanks to theantidotes applied by the friar as soon as he reached the open, thedeadly effect of the poison had been stemmed ere it had time topenetrate Eckhardt's system, but even despite this timely precaution,the benumbing effect of the drug was not to be avoided, and during thetime when the stupor maintained its sway Nilus had not for a momentabandoned the side of his patient. A burning thirst consumed him, as heawoke. Raising himself on his elbows and vainly endeavouring toreconcile his surroundings, the monk who was seated at the foot of hisroughly improvised bed rose and brought him some water. It was Nilushimself, and only after convincing himself that the state of theMargrave's condition was such as to warrant his immediately satisfyingthe flood of inquiries addressed to him, did the hermit go over theevents of the preceding night, starting from the point where Eckhardthad lost consciousness and his own intervention had saved him.
Eckhardt's hand went to his head which still felt heavy and ached. Hisbrain reeled at the account which Nilus gave him, and there was achoking dryness in his throat when the friar accused Theodora of thedeed.
"For such as she the world was made. For such as she fools and slavesabase themselves," the monk concluded his account. "Pray that your eyesmay never again behold her accursed face."
Eckhardt made no reply. What could he say in extenuation of hispresence in the groves? And by degrees, as consciousness and memoryreturned, as he strained his reasoning faculties in the endeavour tofind some cause for the woman's attempt to poison him, after havingmocked him with her fatal likeness to Ginevra--his most acute logiccould not reconcile her actions. For a moment he tried to persuadehimself that he was in a dream, and he strove in vain to wake from it.It was amazing in what brief time and with what vividness all that couldrender death terrible, and this death of all most terrible, rushed uponhis imagination. Despite the languor and inertness which stillcontinued, one terrible certainty rose before him. Far from havingsolved the mystery, it had intensified itself to a degree that seemed tomake any further attempt at solution hopeless. During the twilightconsciousness of his senses numerous faces swam around him,--but of allthese only one had remained with him, Ginevra's pale and beautifulcountenance, her sweet but terrible eyes. But the ever-recurringthought was madness.--Ginevra was dead.
But the hours spent in the seclusion of the friar's hermitage were notentirely lost to Eckhardt. They ripened a preconceived and mostfantastic plan in his mind, which he no sooner remembered, than he beganto think seriously of its execution.
A second night spent in Nilus's hermitage had sufficiently restoredEckhardt's vitality to enable him to leave it on the following morning.After having taken leave of the monk, confessing himself his debtor forlife, the Margrave chose the road toward the Imperial palace, as hisabsence was likely to give rise to strange rumours, which might retardor prevent the task he had resolved to accomplish. He was in a statebordering on nervous collapse, when he reached the gates of the palace,where the Count Palatine, in attendance, ushered him into an ante-roompending his admission to Otto's presence. Eckhardt's thoughts weregloomy and his countenance forbidding as he entered, and he did notnotice the presence of Benilo, the Chamberlain. When the latter glancedup from his occupation, his countenance turned to ashen hues and hestared at the leader of the imperial hosts as one would at an apparitionfrom the beyond. The hands, which held a parchment, strangelyilluminated, shook so violently that he was compelled to place thescroll on the table before him. Eckhardt had been so wrapt in his owndark ruminations that he saw and heard nothing, thus giving Benilo anopportunity to collect himself, though the stereotyped smile on theChamberlain's lips gave the lie to his pretense of continuing interestedin the contents of the chart which lay on the table before him.
But Benilo's restlessness, his eagerness to acquaint himself with thepurpose of Eckhardt's visit, did not permit him to continue the task inwhich the general's entrance had found him engaged. The Chamberlainseemed undaunted by Eckhardt's apparent preoccupation of mind.
"We have just achieved a signal victory," he addressed the Margraveafter a warm greeting, which was to veil his misgivings, while hisunsteady gaze roamed from the parchment on the table to Eckhardt'sclouded brow. "The Byzantine ceremonial will be henceforth observed atthe Imperial court."
"What shall it all lead to?" replied Eckhardt wearily.
"To the fulfilment of the emperor's dream," Benilo replied with hisblandest smile, "his dream of the ten-fold crown of ConstantinePorphyrogenitus."
"I thought the Saxon crown weighed heavily enough."
"That is because your crown is material," Benilo deigned to expound,"not the symbolic crown of the East, which embodies all the virtues ofthe gold and iron. It was a stupendous task which confronted us--buttogether we have solved the problem. In the Graphia, after much vainresearch and study, and in the 'Origines' of Isidor, we found that whichshall henceforth constitute the emblem of the Holy Roman Empire; not theIron Crown of Lombardy, nor the Silver Crown of Aix-la-Chapelle, nor theGolden Crown of Rome--but all three combined with the seven of theEast."
"Ten crowns?" exclaimed Eckhardt aghast. "On the emperor's frail brow?"
"Nay," spoke Benilo, with the same studied smile upon his lips, while herelinquished not for a moment the basilisk gaze with which he followedevery movement of the Margrave. "Nay! They oppress not the brow of theanointed. The Seven Crowns of the East are: The crown of Ivy, the crownof the Olive, the crown of Poplar Branches and Oak, the crown ofLaurels, the Mitra of Janus, the crown of the Feathers of the Pea-fowl,and last of all the crown set with diamonds, which Diocletian borrowedfrom the King of the Persians and whereon appeared the inscription:'Roma Caput Mundi Regit Orbis Frena Rotundi.'"
Eckhardt listened half dazed to this exhibition of antiquarian learningon the part of the Chamberlain. What were these trifles to avail theKing in establishing order in the discordant chaos of the Roman world?
But Benilo was either in excellent spirits over the result of hisantiquarian researches which had made him well nigh indispensable toOtto, and into which he condescended to initiate so unlettered anindividual as Eckhardt; or he tormented the latter with details which heknew wearied the great leader, to keep his mind from dwelling ondangerous matters. Thus continuing his information on these lines with asuave air of superiority, he cited the treatise of Pigonius concerningthe various modes of triumph and other antiquated splendours asenumerated in the Codex, until Eckhardt's head swam with meaninglesstitles and newly created offices. Even an admiral had been appointed:Gregory of Tusculum. In truth, he had no fleet to command, becausethere existed no fleet, but the want had been anticipated. Then therewere many important offices to be filled, with names long as the ancienttriumphal course; and would not the Romans feel flattered by thesechanges? Would they not willingly console themselves with the loss oftheir municipal liberties, knowing that Hungary, and Poland, Spain andGermany were to be Roman provinces as of old?
Eckhardt saw through it all.
Knowing Otto's fantastic turn of mind, Benilo was guiding him slowly butsurely away from life, into the wilderness of a decayed civilization,whose luring magic was absorbing his vital strength. Else why thiseffort to rear an edifice which must crumble under its own weight, oncethe architect was removed from this hectic sphere?
With the reckless enthusiasm of his character the imperial youth hadplunged into the deep ocean of learning, to whose shores his studieswith Benilo conducted him. The animated pictures which the ponderoustomes presented, into whose dust and must he delved, the dramaticsplendour of the narrative in which the glowing fancies of thechroniclers had clothed the stirring events of the times, deeplyimpressed his susceptible mind, just as the chords of AEolian h
arps aremute till the chance breeze passes which wakes them into passionatemusic. Gerbert, now Sylvester II, had no wish to stifle nor even tostem this natural sensibility, but rather to divert its energies intoits proper channels, for he was too deeply versed in human science notto know that even the eloquence of religion is cold and powerless,unless kindled by those fixed emotions and sparkling thoughts which onlypoetical enthusiasm can strike out of the hard flint of logic.
But now the activity of Otto's genius, lacking the proper channels,vented its wild profusion in inert speculation and dreamy reverie.Indistinct longings ventured out on that shimmering restless sea of loveand glory, which his imagination painted in the world, a vague yearningfor the mysterious which was hinted at in that mediaeval lore.
All things were possible in those legends. No scent of autumn hauntedthe deep verdure of those forests, even the harsh immutable laws ofnature seemed to yield to their magic. Death and Despair and Sorrowwere but fore-shadowed angels, not the black fiends of Northern imagery.Their heroes and heroines died, but reclining on beds of violets, thesongs of nightingales sweetly warbling them to rest.
And the son of the Greek princess resented fiercely any intrusion in tohis paradise. It was a thankless task to recall him to the hour and toreality.
The appearance of a page, who summoned Eckhardt into Otto's presence,put an end to Benilo's effusive archaeology, and as the Margravedisappeared in the emperor's cabinet, Benilo wondered how much he knew.
What transpired during his protracted audience remained for the presentthe secret of those two. But when Eckhardt left the palace, his browwas even more clouded than before. While his conference with Otto hadnot been instrumental in dissipating the dread misgivings which torturedhis mind, he had found himself face to face with the revelation that afraud had been perpetrated upon him. For Otto disclaimed all knowledgeof signing any order which relieved Eckhardt of his command, flatlydeclaring it a forgery. While its purpose was easy to divine, thequestion remained whose interest justified his venturing so desperate achance? Eckhardt parted from his sovereign with the latter's fullapproval of the course his leader intended to pursue, and so far fromgranting him the dispensation once desired, Otto did not hesitate topronounce the vision which had interposed at the fatal moment betweenEckhardt and the fulfilment of his desire, a divine interposition.
Slowly the day drew to a close. The eve of the great festivalapproached.
When darkness finally fell over the Capitoline hill, the old palace ofthe Caesars seemed to waken to a new life. In the great reception halla gorgeous spectacle awaited the guests. The richly dressed crowdsbuzzed like a swarm of bees. Their attires were iridescent, gorgeous infashions borrowed from many lands. The invasion of foreigners and theenslavement of Italy could be read in the garbs of the Romans. Therobes of the women, fashioned after the supreme style of Constantinople,hanging in heavy folds, stiff with gold and jewels, suggested ratherecclesiastical vestments. The hair was confined in nets of gold.
Stephania, the consort of the Senator of Rome, was by common accord thequeen of the festival which this night was to usher in. Attracting, asshe did on every turn, the eyes of heedless admirers, her triumphantbeauty seemed to have chosen a fit device in the garb which adorned her,some filmy gossamer web of India, embroidered with moths burning theirwings in flame.
Whether or no she was conscious of the lavish admiration of the Romans,her eyes, lustrous under the dark tresses, were clear and cold; hersmile calm, her voice, as she greeted the arriving guests, melodious andthrilling like the tones of a harp. Amid the noise and buzz, she seemeda being apart, alien, solitary, like a water lily on some silentmoon-lit pool. At last a loud fanfare of trumpets and horns announcedthe arrival of the German king. Attended by his suite the son ofTheophano, whose spiritualized beauty he seemed to have inherited,received the homage of the Senator of Rome, the Cavalli, Caetani,Massimi and Stephaneschi. Stephania was standing apart in a more remotepart of the hall, surrounded by women of the Roman nobility. Her faceflushed and paled alternately as she became aware of the commotion atthe entrance. The airy draperies of summer, which revealed rather thanconcealed her divine beauty, gave her the appearance of a Circe,conquering every heart at sight.
As she slowly advanced toward the imperial circle, with the threeappropriate reverences in use, the serene composure of her countenancemade it seem as if she had herself been born in purple. But as Otto'sgaze fell upon the consort of the Senator of Rome, he suddenly paused, adeep pallor chasing the flush of joy from the beardless face. Was shenot the woman he had met at the gates of the confessional? A great painseized his heart as the thought came to him, that she of whom he haddreamed ever since that day, she in whose love he had pictured tohimself a heaven, was the consort of another. Before him stoodStephania, the wife of his former foe, the wife of the Senator of Rome.And as he gazed into her large limpid eyes, at the exquisite contour ofher head, at the small crimson lips, the clear-cut beauty of the face,of the tint of richest Carrara marble, Otto trembled. Unable to speak aword, fearful lest he might betray his emotions, he seized the white,firm hand which she extended to him with a bewitching smile.
"So we are to behold the King's majesty, at last," she said with a voicewhose very accent thrilled him through and through. "I thought you werenever going to do us that honour,--master of Rome, and master--of Rome'smistress."
Her speech, as she bent slightly toward him, whispering rather thanspeaking the last words, filled Otto's soul with intoxication. Stunnedby the manner of his reception, her mysterious words still ringing inhis ears, Otto muttered a reply, intelligible to none but herself,nerving his whole nature to remain calm, though his heart beat so loudlythat he thought all present must hear its wild throbs even through hisimperial vestments.
As slowly, reluctantly he retreated from her presence, to greet the restof the assembled guests, Otto marked not the meaning-fraught exchange ofglances between the Senator of Rome and his wife. The smiles of thebeautiful women around him were as full of warning as the scowls of aRoman mob. Once or twice Otto gazed as if by chance in the direction ofStephania. Each time their eyes met. Truly, if the hatred ofCrescentius was a menace to his life, the favour of Stephania seemed tosummon him to dizzy, perilous heights.
At last the banquet was served, the company seated and amidst softstrains of music, the festival took its course. Otto now had anopportunity to study in detail the galaxy of profligate courtiers andbeauties, which shed their glare over the sunset of Crescentius's reign.But so absorbed was he in the beauty of Stephania, that, though heattempted to withdraw his eyes, lest their prolonged gaze should attractobservation, still they ever returned with increased and devouringeagerness to feast upon her incomparable beauty, while with a strangeagony of mingled jealousy and anger he noted the court paid to thebeautiful wife of Crescentius by the Roman barons, chief among themBenilo. It seemed, as if the latter wanted to urge the king to someopen and indiscreet demonstration by the fire of his own admiration,and, dear as he was to his heart, Otto heaved a sigh of relief at thethought that he had guarded his secret, which if revealed, would placehim beyond redemption in the power of his enemy, the Senator.
Stephania herself seemed for the nonce too much absorbed in her ownamusements to notice the emotions she had evoked in the young king ofthe Germans. But when she chanced to turn her smiling eyes from theSenator, her husband, she suddenly met the ardent gaze of Otto rivetedupon her with burning intensity. The smile died on her lips and for amoment the colour faded from her cheeks. Otto flushed a deep crimsonand played in affected indifference with the tassels of his sword, andfor some moments they seemed to take no further heed of each other.What happened at the banquet, what was spoken and the speakers, to Ottoit was one whirling chaos. He saw nothing; he heard nothing. The gazeof Stephania, the wife of Crescentius, had cast its spell over him andthere was but one thought in his mind,--but one dream in his heart.
At the request of some one, some of the gu
ests changed their seats.Otto noted it not. Peals of laughter reverberated through the higharched Sala; some one recited an ode on the past greatness of Rome,followed by loud applause; to Otto it was a meaningless sound. Suddenlyhe heard his own name from lips whose tones caused him to start, as ifelectrified.
Stephania sat by his side. Crescentius seemed conversing eagerly withsome of the barons. Raising her arm, white as fallen snow, she poured afine crimson wine into a goblet, until it swelled to the golden brim.There was a simultaneous bustle of pages and attendants, offering fruitsand wine to the guests, and Otto mechanically took some grapes from asalver which was presented to him, but never for a moment averted hisgaze from Stephania, until she lifted the goblet to her lips.
"To thee!" she whispered with a swift glance at Otto, which went to hisheart's core. She sipped from the goblet, then, bending to him, held itherself to his lips. His trembling hands for a moment covered her ownand he drank strangely deep of the crimson wine, which made his sensesreel, and in the trance in which their eyes met, neither noticed thesphinx-like expression on the face of Benilo, the Grand Chamberlain.
But if the wine, of which Otto had partaken with Stephania, was not inreality compounded of magic ingredients, the most potent love philtrecould scarcely have been more efficacious. For the first time it seemedas if he had yielded up his whole soul and being to the fascination ofmarvellous beauty, and with such loveliness exhausting upon him all itstreasures of infinite charm, wit and tenderness, stirred by every motiveof triumph and rivalry,--even if a deceptive apology had not worked inhis own mind, it would scarcely have been possible to resist the spell.
The banquet passed off in great splendour, enlivened by the mostglittering and unscrupulous wit. Thousands of lamps shed theireffulgence on the scene, revealing toward the end a fantastic pageant,descending the grand stair-case to some equally strange and fantasticmusic. It was a procession of the ancient deities; but so great was theilliterate state of mind among the Romans of that period, that the ideasthey represented of the olden time were hopelessly perplexed and anantiquarian, had there been one present, would have thrown up his handsin despair at the incongruous attire of the pagan divinities who hadinvaded the most Christian city. During this procession Otto's eyes forthe third time sought those of Stephania. She seemed to feel it, forshe turned and her lips responded with a smile.
The night passed like some fantastic dream, conjured up from fairy land.And Otto carried his dreaming heart back to the lonely palace on theAventine.