The Sorceress of Rome

  *CHAPTER XII*

  *THE HERMITAGE OF NILUS*

  Stephania's sleep had been broken and restless. She tossed and turnedin her pillows and pushed back the hair from her fevered cheeks andthrobbing temples in vain. It was weary work, to lie gazing with eyeswide open at the flickering shadows cast by the night-lamp on theopposite wall. It was still less productive of sleep to shut them tightand to abandon herself to the visions thus evoked, which stood out inlife-like colours and refused to be dispelled.

  Do what she would to forget him, to conjure up some other object in hersoul, there stood the son of Theophano, towering like a demi-god overthe mean, effeminate throng of her countrymen. Her whole being hadchanged in the brief space of time, since first they had met face toface. Then the woman's heart, filled with implacable hatred of thatimperial phantom, which had twice wrested the dominion of Rome from theSenator's iron grasp, filled with hatred of the unwelcome intruder, hadgiven one great bound for joy at the certainty that he was hers,--hersto deal with according to her desire,--that he had not withstood thevertigo of her fateful beauty. With the first kiss she had imprinted onhis lips, she had dedicated him to the Erynnies,--it was not enough tovanquish, she must break his heart. Thus only would her victory becomplete.

  What a terrible change had come over her now! All she possessed, allshe called her own, she would gladly have given to undo what she haddone. For the first time, as with the lightning's glare, the terriblechasm was revealed to her, at the brink of which she stood. Strangeirony of fate! Slowly but surely she had felt the hatred of Otto vanishfrom her heart. He had bared his own before her, she had penetrated theremotest depths of his soul. She had read him as an open book. And asshe revolved in her own mind the sordid aspirations of those she calledher countrymen, the promptings of tyrants and oppressors,--thrown in thescales against the pure and lofty ideals of the King,--a flush of shamedrove the pallor from her cheeks and caused hot tears of remorse to wellup from the depths of her eyes.

  For the first time the whole enormity of what she had done, of thescheme to which she had lent herself, flashed upon her, and with it awave of hot resentment rushed through her heart. Her own blind hate andthe ever-present consciousness of the low estate to which the one-timepowerful house of Crescentius had fallen, had prompted her to accept thetrust, to commit the deed for which she despised herself. Would theyouth, whom she was to lead the sure way to perdition, have chosen suchmeans to attain his ends? And what would he say to her at that fatalmoment, when all his illusions would be shattered to atoms, his dreamsdestroyed and his heart broken? Would he not curse her for ever havingcrossed his path? Would he not tear the memory of the woman from hisheart, who had trifled with its most sacred heavings? He would die, butshe! She must live--live beside the man for whom she had sinned, forwhose personal ends she had spun this gigantic web of deception. Ottowould die:--he would not survive the shock of the revelation. Hissensitive, finely-strung temperament was not proof against suchunprecedented treachery. What the Senator's shafts and catapults hadfailed to achieve,--the Senator's wife would have accomplished! But theglory of the deed? "Gloria Victis," he had said to her when she pointedthe chances of defeat. "Gloria Victis"--and she must live!

  Otto loved her;--with a love so passionate and enduring that even deathwould mock at separation.--They would belong to each other ever after.It was not theirs to choose. It seemed to her as if they had beendestined for each other from the begin of time, as if their souls hadbeen one, even before their birth. And all the trust reposed in her,all the love given to her--how was she about to requite them? Were hercountrymen worthy the terrible sacrifice? Was Crescentius, her husband?Had his rule ennobled him? Had his rule ennobled the Romans? Were themotives not purely personal?

  She knew she had gone too far to recede. And even if she would, nothingcould now save the German King. The avalanche which had been startedcould not be stopped. The forces arrayed against Teutonic rule nowdefied the control of him who had evoked them. How could she save theKing?

  Salvation for him lay only in immediate flight from Rome! The verythought was madness. He would never consent. Not all his love for hercould prompt a deed of cowardice. He would remain and perish,--and hisblood would be charged to her account in the book of final judgment.

  How long were these dreadful hours! They seemed never ending likeeternity. A moan broke from Stephania's lips. She hid her burning facein her white arms. Oh, the misery of this fatal love! There was noresisting it, there was no renouncing it;--ever present in her soul,omnipotent in her heart, it would not even cease with death; yea,perhaps this was but the beginning.--Would she survive the terrible hourof the final trial, when, a second Delilah, she called the Philistinesdown upon her trusting foe? She moaned and tossed as in the agues of afever and only towards the gray dawn of morning she fell into a fitfulslumber.

  The preparations for his last rebellion against German rule had kept theSenator of Rome within the walls of the formidable keep, which since thedays of Vitiges, the Goth, had defied every assault, no matter who theassailant. Crescentius had succeeded in repairing the breaches in thewalls and in strengthening the defences in a manner, which would causeevery attempt to carry the mausoleum by storm to appear an undertakingas mad as it was hopeless. He had augmented his Roman garrison, swelledby the men-at-arms of the Roman barons pledged to his support, by Greekauxiliaries, drawn from Torre del Grecco, and under his own personalsupervision the final preparations were being pushed to a close. Hisactivity was so strenuous that he appeared to be in the vaults and theupper galleries of Castel San Angelo at the same time. He had beenseized with a restlessness which did not permit him to remain long onany one spot. But the terrible misgivings which filled his heart withdrear forebodings, which, now it was too late to recede, caused him totremble before the final issue, drove the Senator of Rome like a madmanthrough the corridors of the huge mausoleum. Had he in truth lost thelove of his wife? Then indeed was the victory of the son of Theophanocomplete. He had robbed him of all, but life--a life whose last sparkshould ignite the funeral torches for the King and,--if it must be--forRome.

  The day was fading fast, when Crescentius mounted the stairs which ledto Stephania's apartments. His heart was heavy with fear. This hourmust set matters right between them;--in this hour he must know theworst,---and from her own lips. She would not fail him at the finalissue, of that, as he knew her proud spirit, he was convinced. But whatavailed that final issue, if he had lost the one jewel in his crown,without which the crown itself was idle mockery?

  Stephania's apartments were deserted. Where was his wife? She neverused to leave the Castello without informing him of the goal of herjourney. Times were uncertain and the precaution well justified. Withloud voice the Senator of Rome called for Stephania's tirewoman.Receiving no immediate reply, a terrible thought rushed through hishead. Perhaps she was even now with him,--with Otto! In itsundiminished vividness the scene at the Neptune temple arose before him.What availed it to rave and to moan and to shriek? Was it not his owndoing,--rather the counsel of one who perhaps rejoiced in hisdiscomfiture? Crescentius' hand went to his head. Was such blacktreachery conceivable? Could Benilo,---but no! Not even the fiendincarnate would hatch out such a plot, tossing on a burning pillow ofanguish in sleepless midnight.

  He was about to retrace his steps below, when the individual desired,Stephania's tirewoman, appeared and informed the Senator that hermistress had but just left, to seek an interview with her confessor. Amomentary sigh of relief came from the lips of Crescentius. His fearshad perhaps been groundless. Still he felt the imperative necessity toobtain proof positive of her innocence or guilt. Thus only could hissoul find rest.

  Stephania had gone to her confessor. Fate itself would never againthrow such an opportunity in his way. And he made such good speed,that, when he came within sight of the ruins of the baths of Caracalla,he perceived by the ad
vancing torches, which the guards accompanying herlitter carried, that she had not yet reached her destination.

  Approaching closer, he saw them halt near the ruins and in a few momentsa woman, wrapt in a dark mantilla, stepped from her litter, received bya bubbling, gesticulating monk, in whom the Senator immediatelyrecognized Fra Biccocco, the companion of Nilus. Escorted by him, shewalked hastily into the ruins, and was soon lost to sight in theirintricate windings.

  Recalling the observations he had made on a previous visit, Crescentiuswound his way from the rear to the same point, so that none ofStephania's retinue, who were laughing and chatting among themselves,discerned him or even discovered his presence. Then he rapidly threadedhis way to the chamber through which Fra Biccocco and Stephania had justpassed, boldly followed them into the clearing, from which Nilus' cellwas reached, and concealed himself in the long grass until Biccoccoreturned from the hermit's cell. Then he approached the monk'shermitage and took up his post of observation in the shadows, out ofsight but able to hear every word which would be exchanged between Nilusand his confessor.

  The monk of Gaeta had been far from anticipating a visitor at this latehour. Seated at his stone table, he had been reading some illuminatedmanuscript, when he suddenly laid down the scroll and listened. Theperfect stillness of the deserted Aventine permitted some breathings ofremote music from the distant groves of Theodora to strike his ear, andafter listening for a time, he arose and traversed his cell with rapidsteps. He was about to reseat himself and to continue his disquisitionby the pale, flickering light of the candle burning before a crucifix,when voices were audible and Biccocco entered, having scarcely time toannounce Stephania, ere she followed.

  "Good even, Father,--be not startled,--I was returning from my gardensof Egeria and I have brought your altar some of its choicest flowers,"she said in a hushed and timid voice, while at the same time she offeredthe monk some beautiful white roses of a late bloom. "Moreover, I wouldspeak a few words alone with you,--alone with you,--FatherBiccocco,--with your permission."

  Biccocco, looking at her, as she threw back her mantle from hershoulders, respectfully prepared to obey, almost wondering that therecould be on earth anything so wondrously beautiful as this woman.

  "Biccocco, I command thee, stay!" exclaimed Nilus starting up. "I wouldsay--nay, daughter--is it thou? I knew not at first,--my sight isdim--Biccocco, let no one trouble me--but tears? What ails our gentlepenitent? Has she forgotten a whole string of Aves? Or what heavieroffence? It was but yesterday I counselled thee,--but a few hours areso much to a woman.--Wherefore glow thy cheeks with the fires of shame?Biccocco--leave us!"

  "Father, I have sinned--yea, grievously sinned in these few hours, sinceI have seen thee," said Stephania, when the restraint of Biccocco'spresence was removed, little suspecting what listener had succeeded. "Ihave sinned and I repent,--but even in my offence lies my greatestchastisement."

  "Art well assured, that it is remorse, and not regret?" replied thehermit of Gaeta. "Thy sex often mistakes one for the other. But whatis the matter? Surely it might not prevent thee from taking thy needfulrest, might bide the light of day, to be told,--to be listenedto,--yet--thou art strangely pale!"

  "I have been mad, father, crazed,--I know not what I have done! I darenot look upon thee, and tell thee! Let me arrange my flowers in thychalice, while I speak," replied Stephania, hiding her face in thefragrant bundle.

  "Not so!" replied the monk. "Eye and gesture often confess more thanthe apologizing lip! Kneel in thy wonted place! No other attitudebecomes thy dignity or mine;--for either thou kneelest to the servant ofGod or thou debasest thyself before the brother of man!"

  Stephania complied instantly, and Nilus, throwing himself back in hischair, fixed his eyes on the crucifix before him, without even glancingat the penitent.

  "Father--you had warned me of all the ills that would befall," shebegan, almost inaudibly, "but I longed to see him at my feet,--andmore,--much more!"

  "What is all this?" said the monk turning very pale and glancing at hisfair penitent with a degree of fierceness mingled with surprise.

  "Ah! You know not what a woman feels,--when--when--" She paused,breathing hard.

  "Hast thou then committed a deadly sin? Some dark adultery of thesoul?" exclaimed Nilus. "Nay, daughter," he continued, as she shrankwithin herself at his words, "I speak too harshly now! But what morehast to say? Time wears--and this soft cheek should be upon the down,or its sweetness will not bloom as freshly as some of its rivals, atdawn. Thou see'st this hermitage, from which thou wouldst lure me,yields some recollections to brighten its desolation and gloom. What isit thou wouldst say?"

  Stephania stared for a moment into the monk's face, at a loss to grasphis meaning. At last she stammered.

  "Yet--I but intended to win him to--some silly tryst,--wherein Iintended to deride his boyish passions."

  "And he refused thy lures and thou art vexed to have escaped perdition?"said the monk, more mildly.

  "Nay--for he came!"

  "He came! Jest not in a matter like this! He came? Thou knowest of allmankind I have reasons to wish this youth well,--this one at least!"said Nilus somewhat incoherently.

  "He came,--once,--twice,--many times! He came, I say, and---"

  "What of him? Thou hast not had him harmed for trusting his enemy?"

  Stephania's cheek took the hues of marble.

  "Harmed? I would rather perish myself than that he should come toharm."

  Nilus was silent for a moment or two, and Stephania, as if to takecourage, timidly took his hand, holding it between her own.

  "I must needs avow my whole offence," she stammered, "he came,--and--"

  "Why dost pause, daughter?" questioned the monk, with penetrating look.

  "Nay--but hear me!" continued Stephania. "I first intended but to winhis confidence,--then,--having drawn him out--expose him to the justlaughter of my court."

  "A most womanly deed! But where did this meeting take place?"

  "In the Grottos of Egeria!"

  "In the Grottos of Egeria!" the monk repeated aghast.

  "And then," she continued with a great sadness in her tone, "I neverfelt so strangely mad,--I would have him share some offence, to justifythe clamour I had provided, scarcely I know how to believe it nowmyself.--I did to his lips,--what I now do to your hand."

  And she kissed the monk's yellow hand with timid reverence.

  "Thou! Thou! Stephania,--the wife of Crescentius, and not yet set inthe first line of the book of shame!" shouted the monk, convulsivelystarting at every word of his own climax. "Begone--begone! The vesselis full, even to overflowing!--Tell me no more,--tell me no more!"

  "Your suspicion indeed shows me all my ignominy," said Stephania,groping for his hand, which he had snatched furiously away. "But heonly suffered it,--because he guessed not my intent in the darkness."

  "In the darkness?"

  "In the darkness."

  "Deemest thou it possible to clasp the plague and to evade thecontagion?" questioned the monk. "Woman, I command thee, stop! Stopere the condemning angel closes the record!"

  Stephania raised her head petulantly.

  "Monk, thou knowest not all! During all this meeting the Senator ofRome was present in the Grotto and watched us from one of the ivyhollows in the cave!"

  "The Senator of Rome!" exclaimed the monk with evident amazement. "Howcame he there?"

  "By contrivance!"

  "I do not understand!"

  "It was at his behest that I have done the deed, to further his vastprojects, call it his ambition, if you will--to which the King is thestumbling block. Ask me no more,--for I will not answer!"

  Nilus seemed struck dumb by the revelation.

  "Take comfort, daughter, he cannot,--he cannot--" whispered the monk,bending over her and speaking in so low a tone that the devouringlistener could not distinguish one word.

  For a time not a word was to be heard, Nilus inclini
ng his ear toStephania's lips, whose confession was oft times broken by sobs.

  "Tell me all,--all!" said the monk.

  "As the fatal hour approaches the strength begins to forsake me,--Icannot do it!" she groaned.

  "Yet he is the enemy of Rome, so you say," the monk said mockingly.

  "He is the friend of Rome and--I love him!"

  In a shriek the last words broke from her lips.

  "Domine an me reliquisti!" shouted the monk. "Some sign now--somesign--or--"

  His raving exclamation was cut short by a sound not unlike the oracleimplored. A large block of stone, dislodged by a sudden and violentmovement of the unseen listener, rolled with a hollow rumble down intothe vaults below.

  The monk started up from the benediction which he was bending forward topronounce, almost dashed Stephania away, rushed to his altar and castinghimself prostrate before the divine symbol which adorned it, he mutteredin a frantic ecstasy of devotion:

  "Gloria Domino! Gloria in Excelsis! Blessed be Thy name for ever andever! Praise ye the Lord! He saves in the furnace of fire!"

  Stephania gazed in mute amazement at the monk. His frantic appeal andits apparent fulfilment had struck dismay into her soul, and when atlength he raised himself, and turned towards her, she could hardly findwords to speak.

  But Nilus waved his hand.

  "Go now, Stephania," he commanded. "Go! I will devise some fittingpenance at more leisure."

  "But, Father--my request."

  "Ay, truly," he replied, with supreme melancholy. "Is it not the wontof the world to throw away the flower, when we have withered it with ourevil breath?"

  "But I cannot do it,--I cannot do it," Stephania moaned, raising herhands imploringly to the monk.

  "It is for a mightier than Nilus to counsel," the monk spoke mournfully."Thou standest on the brink of a precipice, from which nothing but thedirect intervention of Heaven can save thee! Pray to the Immaculate Onefor enlightenment, and if the words of a monk have weight with thee,even against him, thou callest thy lord before the world,--desist, erethou art engulfed in the black abyss, which yawns at thy feet.--When heis dead, it will be too late!"

  And raising his lamp, to escort Stephania to her litter, the monk andthe woman left the chamber, and Crescentius had barely time to concealhimself behind the boulders ere they appeared and passed by him, themonk anxiously guiding every step of his penitent.

  The moon was sinking, when Stephania arrived at Castel San Angelo.

  Taking the candle from the hands of the page, who had awaited her returnwith sleepy eyes, she dismissed him and passed into the lofty hall, darkand chill as a cellar, beyond which lay the Senator's, her husband's,apartments. She swiftly traversed the hall,--then she hesitated. Nodoubt he was asleep. What good was there in waking him? As she turnedto retrace her steps to her own chamber, a strange and eerie gust ofwind swept shrieking round the battlements, howled in the chimney,invaded the chamber with icy breath and almost extinguished the candle.Then there was a great hush. It seemed to her she could hear distantmusic from the Aventine, the murmur of voices, the sound of iron chainsfrom the vaults below. To this,--or to death,--she had consigned theson of Theophano, the boy-king, who loved her.--To this?--Anguish andterror seized her soul. She felt, she must not move--must not look.There it stood,--blacker than the investing darkness,--its headbent,--shrouded in the cowl of a monk. What was it? Once before shehad seen it,--then it had faded away in the gloom. But misfortune rodeinvariably in its wake. She tried to scream, to call the page, but hervoice choked in her throat. She staggered toward the door; her limbsrefused to support her;--groaning she covered her eyes. Otto downthere,--or dead,--why had she never thought of it before? Now the monkmade a step toward her; the face had nothing corpse-like in it, nothingappalling, yet she felt a freezing and unearthly cold; almost faintingshe staggered up the narrow winding stairs. And entering her loftychamber Stephania fell unconscious upon her couch.

  After Crescentius had returned from the hermitage of Nilus, he gavestrict orders to the guards of Castel San Angelo to admit no one, nomatter who might crave an audience, and entering his own chamber, helighted a candle. He had seen and heard, and he knew that the heart ofhis wife had gone from him for ever! At the terrible certainty he grewdizzy. A fearful price he had paid for his perfidy,--and now, there wasno one in all the world he could trust. He dared not speak. He darednot even breathe his anguish. She must never know that he knew all,--noone must know. His lips must be sealed. The world should never pointat him,--for this at least!

  But terrible as his suffering must be his vengeance. He who had robbedhim of his priceless gem, the wife of his soul, all he loved onearth,--he should languish and rot under her very chambers, where shemight nightly hear his groans, without daring to plead for him. Therewas no further time for parley. The stroke must fall at once! Too longhad he tarried. The Rubicon was passed.

  Pacing up and down the gloomy chamber, Crescentius paused before thesand-clock. It was near midnight. Yet sleep was far from caressing hisaching lids, as far as balm from his aching heart. He raised the candlein an unconscious effort, to go to his wife's apartment. He lingered.Then he placed the candle down again and seated himself in a chair. Hisgaze fell upon a broad stain on the floor and like one fascinated hefollowed its least meander to a distance of several feet from the door,when suddenly a form met his eyes, whether the off-spring of hisdelirious fancy or one of those inexplicable and tremendous phenomena,which are incapable of human solution, while the secrets of death remainsuch. His garb was that of a monk; the face bore the awful pallor ofthe tomb, and a mournful tenderness seemed to struggle with the rigidityof death. The phantom, if such it was, stood perfectly motionlessbetween Crescentius and the couch, in a few moments it grew indistinctand finally faded into air.

  It was then only, that Crescentius recovered breath and life, andstaggered back to his chair. A few moments' rally persuaded him thatwhat he had seen had been merely the illusion of his excited organs.But a dreadful longing for death assailed him, a longing like that whichprompts men to leap when they gaze down a precipice. He rose,--againthe phantom seemed there,--this time distinct and clear. Terror renderedhim motionless; the room seemed to whirl round, a million lights dancedin his eyes, then he sank back covering his face with his hands.

  When he again opened his eyes, his brain seemed shooting with thekeenest darts of pain. He endeavoured to pray, but could not. Hisideas rushed confusedly through each other. The taper was fast sinkingin the socket, and it seemed as if his mind would sink with it. Heemptied a goblet of wine which stood upon the table, and strove toremember what he intended to do. It seemed a vain effort and he fellback in his chair into a semi-conscious doze. An hour might have passedthus, when he became aware of a slight crackling noise in his ears andstarting with a sensation of cold he looked round. The fire in thechimney had burnt into red embers, and though his own form was lost inthe shadow of the chimney, the rest of the room was faintly illumined bythe crimson glow from the grate.

  Suddenly he saw the tapestry figure of some mythical deity opposite hisown seat stir; the tapestry swelled out, then a head appeared, whichpeered cautiously round. The body soon followed the head, andCrescentius rose with a sigh of relief as he stood face to face withBenilo. The Chamberlain's face was pale; his eyes, with their unsteadyglow, showed traces of wakefulness. He took from his doublet a scrollwhich he placed into the outstretched hand of the Senator of Rome.Mechanically Crescentius unrolled it. His hands trembled as hesuperficially swept its contents.

  "The barons pledge their support,--not a name is missing," Benilo brokethe silence in hushed tones.

  "What is it to be?" questioned Crescentius.

  "I speak for the extreme course and for Rome. For attack--sudden andswift!"

  There was a pause, Crescentius stared into the dying embers.

  "Are all your plans complete?"

  "The Romans wait impatiently upon my
words. At the signal all Rome willrise to arms!"

  "But how about the Romans? Can they be depended upon?"

  "I move them at the raising of my hand!"

  There was another pause.

  Crescentius appeared strangely abstracted.

  "But what of Otto? What of Eckhardt? Do they scent the wind fromCastel San Angelo?"

  "As for the Saxon cherub," Benilo replied with a disgusting smile, "heis dreaming of his--"

  He did not finish the sentence, for Crescentius cast such a terriblelook upon him, that the blood froze in the traitor's veins, and his eyessank before those blazing upon him. After a moment's hesitation hecontinued, the shadow of a forced smile hovering round his thin,quivering lips:

  "When he is dead, we shall cause the Wonder-child to be canonized!"

  But Crescentius was in no jocular mood.

  "Have you chosen your men?" he queried curtly.

  "They will be stationed in the labyrinth of the Minotaurus," Beniloreplied. "At the signal agreed upon, they will rush forth and seize theKing--"

  As he spoke those words the Chamberlain gazed timidly into the Senator'sface.

  "The signal will not fail," Crescentius replied firmly.

  "Is the mausoleum prepared to withstand an assault?" Benilo questionedguardedly.

  "The hidden balistae have been disinterred. My Albanian stradiotes andthe Romagnole guards occupy the chief approaches. The upper galleriesare reserved for our Roman allies. They will never scale these wallswhile Crescentius lives. Remember--the gates of Rome are to be closed.We will smother the Saxon under our caresses! I must have Otto dead oralive! Revenge and Death are now written on my standards! Up with theflag of rebellion and perdition to the emperor and his hosts!"

  The gray dawn was peeping into the windows of the Senator's chamber,when Crescentius sought his couch for a brief and fitful repose.