The Sorceress of Rome
*CHAPTER VI*
*JOHN OF THE CATACOMBS*
Once outside of the pavillion, Benilo uttered a sigh of relief. He hadresolved to act without delay. Ere dawn he would be assured that heheld in his grasp the threads of the web. There was no time to be lost.Onward he hurried, the phantom of the murdered girl floating before hiseyes in a purple haze.
While bearing himself ostensibly in the character of a mere man ofpleasure, Benilo the Chamberlain lost no opportunity of ingratiatinghimself with the many desperate spirits who were to be found in the cityready and willing to assist at any enterprise, which should tend tocomplicate the machine of government. While he rushed into everyextravagance and pleasure, surpassing the companions of his own rank inhis orgies, he suffered no symptoms of a deeper feeling to escape him,than that of excellence in trifling, the wine cup, the pageant, thepassing show. It may have been a strain of mongrel blood, filteringthrough his veins, which tempered his endurance with the pliancyessential to intrigue, a strain that was apparent in the sculpturedregularity of his features. His movements had the pliant ease, thestealthy freedom of the tiger. Had he been caught like Milo, he wouldhave writhed himself out of the trap with the sinuous persistency of thesnake. There was something snake-like in the small, glittering eyes,the clear smoothness of the skin. With all its brightness no womanworthy of the name but would have winced with womanly instincts ofaversion and repugnance from his glances. With all its beauty, none,save Otto alone, had ever looked confidingly into his face. Men turnedindeed to scan him approvingly as he passed, but they owned no sympathywith the smooth, set brow, the ever present smile in the lips of Benilothe Chamberlain.
After deliberating upon the course he was about to pursue Beniloapproached the shores of the Tiber. Under the cypress avenues it wasdark, and the air came up chill and damp from the stream. A sombre blueover-arched the labyrinth of pillars and ruins, of friezes and statues,of groves and glades which lay dreaming in the pale light of the moon.No other light, save the moist glimmer of the stars whose mist-veiledbrightness heralded the approach of a tempest, fell on the chaos ofundefined forms. Utter solitude, utter silence prevailed. More and moreBenilo lost himself in the wilderness of this ill-favoured region.
The shortest way to the haunts of John of the Catacombs, of whom he wasin immediate search, lay across the ancient Alta Semita, where now theVia di Porta Pia winds round the Quirinal hill. But for reasons of hisown the Chamberlain chose to make a detour, preferring streets whosedeserted character would not be likely to bring him into contact withsome unwelcome, nocturnal rambler. Wrapping himself more closely in hiscloak and looking cautiously about, he hastened along the North Westerndeclivity of the Quirinal hill, until he reached the remains of a wallbuilt, so tradition has it, by Servius Tullius. This quarter had eversince the time of the emperors enjoyed the worst reputation in all Rome.The streets were tortuous, the houses, squalid, the whole surroundingsevil. Benilo moved cautiously along the wall, for a few drinking shopswere still open and frequented by a motley throng, with whom it was notsafe to mingle, for to provoke a brawl, might engender graveconsequences. Wretched women plied their shameful trade by the light offlickering clay-lamps; and watery-eyed hags, the outcasts of allnations, mingled with sailors, bandits and bravi. Drunken men laysnoring under tables and coarse songs were shouted from hoarse throats,half drowned by the uproarious clamour of two fellows who were playingat dice. Suddenly there was a commotion followed by piercing shrieks.The gamblers had fallen out over their pretty stakes. After a shortsquabble one had drawn his knife on the other and stabbed him in theside. The wounded man fell howling on the ground and the assassin tookto his heels. The dancers of the establishment, heedless of thecatastrophe, began at once to rattle their castagnettes and sway andwhirl in disgraceful pantomime.
After Benilo had passed the shameful den and reached the end of thealley he found himself once more in one of the waste regions of thecity. Truly many an emperor was more easily discovered than John of theCatacombs. The region had the appearance as if an earthquake hadshattered into dust the splendid temples and porticoes of antiquity, sogreat was the destruction, which confronted him on every turn. High inthe air could be heard the hoarse cry of the vulture, wheeling home fromsome feast of carnage; in the near-by marshes the croaking of the frogsalternated with the dismal cry of the whippoorwill.
Suddenly the Chamberlain paused and for a moment even his stout heartstopped beating, and his face turned a ghastly pallor. For directlybefore him there arose out of the underbrush, with back apparentlyturned towards him, some formless apparition in the dark habit of amonk, the cowl drawn over his head. But when he attained his naturalheight, he faced Benilo, although the latter would have sworn that hedid not see him turn.
It was with some degree of fascination that Benilo watched the personand the movements of this human monster. What appeared of his head fromunder the cowl seemed to have become green with cadaverous tints. Onemight say that the mustiness of the sepulchre already covered the bluishdown of his skin. His eyes, with their strong gaze sparkled frombeneath a large yellowish bruise, and his drooping jaws were joined tothe skin by two lines as straight as the lines of a triangle. Thebravo's trembling hands, the colour of yellow wax, were only a net-workof veins and nerves. His sleeves fluttered on his fleshless arms like astreamer on a pole. His robe fell from his shoulders to his heelsperfectly straight without a single fold, as rigid as the drapery in thelater pictures of Cimabue or Orcagna. There appeared to be nothing buta shadow under the brown cowl and out of that shadow stared two stonyeyes. John of the Catacombs looked like a corpse returned to earth, towrite his memoirs.
At the sight of the individual, reputed the greatest scourge in Rome,the Chamberlain could not repress a shudder, and his right hand soughtmechanically the hilt of his poniard.
"Why--thou art a merry dog in thy friar's cowl, Don Giovan, though itwill hardly save thee from the gallows," exclaimed Benilo, approachingslowly. "Since when dost affect monastic manners?"
"Since the fiend is weary of saints, their cowls go begging," a harshgrating voice replied, while a hideous sneer lit up the almost fleshlessskull of the bravo, as with his turbid yellow eyes, resembling those ofa dead fish, he stared in Benilo's face.
"And for all that," the denisen of the ruins continued, watching fromunder inflamed eyelids the effect his person produced on his Maecenas,"and for all that I shall make as good a saint as was ever catalogued inyour martyrology."
"The fiend for aught might make the same," replied Benilo. "What is yourbusiness here?"
"Watching over dead men's bones," replied the bravo doggedly.
"Never lie to the devil,--you will neither deceive him nor me! Not thatI dispute any man's right to be hanged or stabbed--least of all thine,Don Giovan."
"'Tis for another to regulate all such honours," replied the bravo."And it is an old saying, never trust a horse or a woman!"
Benilo started as if the bravo had read his thoughts.
"You prate in enigmas," he said after a pause. "I will be brief withyou and plain. We should not scratch, when we tickle. I am looking foran honest rogue. I need a trusty and discreet varlet, who can keep histongue between his teeth and forget not only his master's name, but hisown likewise. Have you the quality?"
John of the Catacombs stared at the speaker as if at a loss tocomprehend his meaning. Instead of answering he glanced uneasily in thedirection of the river.
"Speak out, man, my time is brief," urged the Chamberlain, "I havelearned to value your services even in the harm you have wrought, and ifyou will enter my service, you shall some day hang the keys of a noblertower on your girdle than you ever dreamt of."
The bravo winced, but did not reply. Suddenly he raised his head as iflistening. A sound resembling the faint splash of an oar broke thestillness. A yell vibrated through the air, a louder splash was heard,then all was deep silence as before.
"That sounded not like the prayer of a Christian soul departing," Benilosaid with an involuntary shudder, noting the grin of satisfaction whichpassed over the outlaw's face. "What was that?"
"Of my evil brother an evil instrument," replied John of the Catacombsenigmatically.
"I fear you will have to learn manners in my school, Don Giovan," saidBenilo in return. "But your answer. Are you ready?"
"This very night?" gasped the bravo, suspecting the offer and fearful ofa snare.
"Why not?" demanded the Chamberlain curtly.
"I am bound in another's service!"
"You are an over-punctilious rogue, Don Giovan. To-morrow then!"
"Agreed!" gurgled the bravo, extending a monstrously large hand fromunder his gown, with a forefinger of extraordinary length, on the end ofwhich there was a wart.
Benilo pretended not to see the proffered member. But before addressinghimself further to John of the Catacombs he glanced round cautiously.
"Are we alone?"
The bravo nodded.
"Is my presence here not proof enough?"
The argument prevailed.
"To our business then!" Benilo replied guardedly, seating himself upon afragment of granite and watching every gesture of the bravo.
"There arrived to-day in Rome, Eckhardt the general. His welfare is verydear to me! I should be disconsolate came he to harm in the exercise ofhis mission, whatever that be!"
There was a brief pause during which their eyes met.
The outlaw's face twitched strangely. Or was it the play of themoonbeams?
"Being given to roaming at random round the city," Benilo continued,speaking very slowly as if to aid the bravo's comprehension, "for suchis their wont in their own wildernesses,--I am fearful he might goastray,--and the Roman temper is uncertain. Yet is Eckhardt sofearless, that he would scorn alike warning or precaution. Therefore Iwould have you dog his footsteps from afar,--but let him not suspectyour presence, if you wish to see the light of another morning. Wearyour monk's habit, it becomes you! You look as lean and hungry andwolfish as a hermit of twelve years' halo, who feeds on wild roots andsnails. But to me you will each day report the points of interest,which the German leader has visited, that I too may become familiar withtheir attraction. Do I speak plainly?"
"I will follow him as his shadow," gurgled the bravo.
Benilo held out a purse which John of the Catacombs greedily devouredwith his eyes.
"You are a greedy knave," he said at last with a forced laugh. "Butsince you love gold so dearly, you shall feast your eyes on it till theytire of its sheen. Be ready at my first call and remember--secrecy anddespatch!"
"When shall it be?" queried the bravo.
"A matter of a day or two at best--no longer! Meanwhile you willimprove your antiquarian learning by studying the walks of Rome incompany with the German general. But remember your distance, unless youwould meet the devil's grandame instead of creeping back to your hovels.And where, by the way, may a pair of good eyes discover John of theCatacombs in case of urgent need?"
The bravo seemed to ponder.
"There is an old inn behind the Forum. It will save your messenger thetrouble to seek me in the Catacombs. Have him ask for the lame brotherof the Penitents,--but do not write, for I cannot read it."
Benilo nodded.
"If I can trust you, the gain will be yours," he said. "And now--leadthe way!"
John of the Catacombs preceded his new patron through the tall weedswhich almost concealed him from view, until they reached a clearing notfar from the river, whose turbid waves rolled sluggishly towards Ostia.Here they parted, the bravo retracing his steps towards the regionwhence they had come, while Benilo made for the gorge between MountsAventine and Testaccio. It was an ill-famed vale, noted even in remoteantiquity for the gross orgies whence it had gained its evil repute,after the cult of Isis had been brought from Egypt to Rome.
The hour was not far from midnight. The moon had passed her zenith andwas declining in the horizon. Her pale spectral rays cast an uncertainlight over the region and gave the shadows a weird and almostthreatening prominence. In this gorge there dwelt one Dom Sabbat, halfsorcerer, half madman, towards whose habitation Benilo now directed hissteps. He was not long reaching a low structure, half concealed betweentall weeds and high boulders. Swiftly approaching, Benilo knocked atthe door. After a wait of some duration shuffling foot steps were to beheard within. A door was being unbarred, then the Chamberlain coulddistinguish the unfastening of chains, accompanied by a low dry cough.At last the low door was cautiously opened and he found himself face toface with an almost shapeless form in the long loose habit of thecloister, ending in a peaked cowl, cut as it seemed out of one cloth,and covering the face as well as the back of the head, barring only twoholes for the eyes and a slit for the mouth. After the uncanny hosthad, by the light of a lantern, which he could shade at will, peeredclosely into his visitor's face, he silently nodded, beckoning the otherto enter and carefully barred the door behind him. Through a low,narrow corridor, Dom Sabbat led the way to a sort of kitchen, such as analchemist might use for his experiments and with many grotesque bendsbade his visitor be seated, but Benilo declined curtly, for he was illat ease.
"I have little time to spare," he said, scarcely noticing thealchemist's obeisance, "and less inclination to enter into particulars.Give me what I want and let me be gone out of this atmosphere, which isenough to stifle the lungs of an honest man."
"Hi, hi, my illustrious friend," fawned the other with evident enjoymentof his patron's impatience. "Was the horoscope not right to a minute?Did not the charm work its unpronounced intent?"
"'Tis well you remind me! It required six stabs to finish your bunglingwork! See to it, that you do not again deceive me!"
"You say six stabs?" replied Dom Sabbat, looking up from the task he wasengaged in, of mixing some substances in a mortar. "Yet Mars was in theCancer and the fourth house of the Sun. But perhaps the gentleman hadeaten river-snails with nutmeg or taken a bath in snake skins andstags-antlers?"
"Looking up from the task he was engaged in."]
"To the devil with your river-snails!" exploded Benilo. "Thelove-philtre and quickly,--else I will have you smoked out of yourdevil's lair ere the moon be two hours older!"
The alchemist shook his head, as if pained by his patron's ill temper.Yet he could not abstain from tantalizing him by assuming amisapprehension of his meaning.
"The hour," he mumbled slowly, and with studied hesitation, "is notpropitious. Evil planets are in the ascendant and the influence of yourgood genius is counteracted by antagonistic spells."
"Fool!" growled Benilo, at the same time raising his foot as if to spurnthe impostor like a dog. "You keep but one sort of wares such as Irequire,--let me have the strongest."
Neither the gesture nor the insult were lost on Dom Sabbat, yet hepreserved a calm and imperturbable demeanour, while, as ifsoliloquizing, he continued his irritating inquiries.
"A love-philtre? They are priceless indeed;--even a nun,--three dropsof that clear tasteless fluid,--and she were yours."
Again Benilo's lips straightened in a hard, drawn line. Stooping overthe alchemist, he whispered two words into his ear, which caused DomSabbat to glance up with such an expression of horror that Beniloinvoluntarily burst into a loud laugh, which sent the other spinning tohis task.
Ransacking some remote corner in his devil's kitchen he at last produceda tiny phial, which he wrapped in a thin scroll. This he placed withtrembling hands into those eagerly stretched out to grasp it andreceived therefor a hand full of gold coin, the weight of which seemedto indicate that secrecy was to constitute no small portion of thebargain.
After having conducted his visitor to the entrance, where he took leaveof him with many bends of the head and manifold protestations ofdevotion, Dom Sabbat locked his abode and Benilo hastened towards thecity.
As he mentally surveyed the events of the evening
even to their remotestconsequences, he seemed to have neglected no precaution, nor omittedanything which might eventually prevent him from triumphing over hisopponents. But even while reviewing with a degree of satisfaction thebusiness of the night, terrible misgivings, like dream shadows, droopedover his mind. After all it was a foolhardy challenge he had thrown tofate. Maddened by the taunts of a woman, he had arrayed forces againsthimself which he must annihilate, else they would tear him to pieces.The time for temporizing had passed. He stood on the crater of avolcano, and his ears, trained to the sounds of danger, could hear thefateful rumbling in the depths below.
In that fateful hour there ripened in the brain of Benilo theChamberlain a thought, destined in its final consequences to subvert adynasty. After all there was no security for him in Rome, while theGermans held sway in the Patrimony of St. Peter. But--indolent andvoluptuous as he was--caring for nothing save the enjoyment of themoment, how was he to wield the thunderbolt for their destruction, howwas he to accomplish that, in which Crescentius had failed, backed byforces equal to those of the foreigners and entrenched in hisimpregnable stronghold?
As Benilo weighed the past against the future, the scales of his crimessank so deeply to earth that, had Mercy thrown her weight in the balanceit would not have changed the ultimate decree of Retribution. Only theutter annihilation of the foreign invaders could save him. Eckhardt'slife might be at the mercy of John of the Catacombs. The poison phialmight accomplish what the bravo's dagger failed to do,--but one thingstood out clearly and boldly in his mind; the German leader must notlive! Theodora dared not win the wager,--but even therein lay thegreater peril. The moment she scented an obstacle in her path, shewould move all the powers of darkness to remove it and it requiredlittle perspicuity to point out the source, whence it proceeded.
At the thought of the humiliation he had received at her hands, Benilognashed his teeth in impotent rage. His pride, his vanity, hisself-love, had been cruelly stabbed. He might retaliate by rousing herfear. But if she had passed beyond the point of caring?
As, wrapt in dark ruminations, Benilo followed the lonely path, whichcarried him toward the city, there came to him a thought, swift andsudden, which roused the evil nature within him to its highest tension.
Could his own revenge be more complete than by using his enemies, onefor the destruction of the other? And as for the means,--Theodoraherself would furnish them. Meanwhile--how would Johannes Crescentiusbear the propinquity of his hereditary foe, the emperor? Might not theSenator be goaded towards the fateful brink of rebellion? Then,--Romansand Germans once more engaged in a death grapple,--his own time wouldcome, must come, the time of victory and ultimate triumph.