CHAPTER VIII
AN ITALIAN NIGHT
The palace of Theodora on Mount Aventine was aglow with life andmovement for the festivities of the evening. The lights of countlesscressets were reflected from the marble floor of the great receptionhall and shone on the rich panelling, and the many-hued tapestrieswhich decked the walls.
In the shadow of the little marble kiosk which rose, a relic of ahappier age, among oleander and myrtles, shadowed by tall cypresses,silent guardians of the past, Theodora and Basil faced each other.The white, livid face of the man gave testimony to the passions thatconsumed him, as his burning gaze swept the woman before him.
"I have spoken, my Lord Basil! Should some unforeseen mischance befallhim I have summoned hither, look to it that I require not his blood atyour hands."
Theodora's tone silenced all further questioning. After a pause shecontinued: "And if you desire farther proof that this man shall notstand against my enchantments, pass into yonder kiosk and through itscarven windows shall you be able to witness all that passes between us."
She ceased with quivering lips, the while Basil regarded her from underhalf-shut lids, filled with sudden brooding, and for a space there wassilence. At last he said in a low, unsteady voice:
"So I did not err when my hatred rose against this puppet of theSenator's, who came to Rome to do penance for a kiss. You love him,your foe, while I, your utter slave, must stand by and, with achingheart, see your mad desire bring all our schemes to naught."
His hand closed on his dagger hilt, but Theodora's eyes flashed likebared swords as with set face she said:
"Fool!--to see but that which lies in your path, not the intricate netswhich are spread in the darkness. I mean to make this man my very own!His fevered lips shall close on mine, and in my embrace he shall climbto the heaven of the Gods. He shall be mine! He shall do my biddingutterly. He shall open for me the gates of the Emperor's Tomb. He shallstand beside me when I am proclaimed mistress of Rome! For my love heshall defy the world that is--and the world that is not."
"And what of the woman he loves?" Basil snarled venomously, and thepallor of Theodora's face informed him that the arrow he had sped hadhit the mark.
She held out her wonderful statuesque arms, then, raising herself toher full height, she said:
"Is the pale woman from his native land a match for me? What rare sportit shall be to make of this Hellayne a mock, and of her name a memory,and put Theodora's in its high place. Do you doubt my power to do as Isay?"
"Verily I do believe that you love this pilgrim," Basil said sullenly."And while I am preparing the quake that shall tumble Alberic'sdominion into dust and oblivion, you are making him the happiest ofmortals. And deem you I will stand by and see yon dotard reap thefruits of my endeavors and revel where I, your slave, am starving for alook?"
"Well have you chosen the word, my lord--my slave! For then wereTheodora indeed the puppet of a lust-bitten subject did she heed hismad ravings and his idle plaints. Know, my lord, that my love is his towhom I choose to give it, his who gives to me that in return which Idesire. And though I have drunk deep of the goblet of passion, neverhas my heart beat one jot the faster, nor has the fire in my soul beenkindled until I met him whom this night I have summoned."
"And deem you, fairest Theodora, that the sainted pilgrim will come?"Basil interposed with an evil leer.
An inscrutable smile curved Theodora's crimson lips.
"Let that be my affair, my lord, but--that everything may be clearbetween us--know this: when I summoned him, after he had spurned me onthe night when I intended to make him the happiest of men, it was totorture him, to make a mock of him, to arouse his passions till theyovermastered all else, till in very truth he forgot his God, his honor,and the woman for whose kisses he does such noble penance--but now--"
"But now?" came the echo from Basil's lips.
"Who says I shall not?" Theodora replied with her inscrutable smile."Who shall gainsay me? You--my lord?"
There was a strange light in Basil's eyes, kindled by her mockery.
"And when he kneels at your feet, drunk with passion--laying barehis soul in his mad infatuation--who shall prevent this dagger fromdrinking his heart's blood, even as he peers into the portals of bliss?"
Theodora's eyes flashed lightnings.
"I shall kill you with my own hands, if you but dare but touch one hairof his head," she said with a calm that was more terrible than anyoutburst of rage would have been. "He is mine, to do with as I choose,and look well to it, my lord, that your shadow darken not the pathbetween us.--Else I shall demand of you such a reckoning as none whomay hear of it in after days shall dare thwart Theodora--either in loveor in hate."
Basil's writhing form swayed to and fro; passion-tossed he tried invain to speak when she raised her hand.
With a gesture of baffled wrath and rage Basil bowed low. A suddenlight leaped into his eyes as he raised her hand to his lips. Then heretreated into the shadow of the kiosk.
A moment later Tristan came within view, walking as one in a trance.Mechanically he passed towards the banquet hall. Then he paused,seeming to wait for some signal from within.
A hand stole into his and drew him resistlessly into the shadows.
"Why do you linger here? Behold where the moonlight calls."
"Where is your mistress?" Tristan turned to the Circassian.
A strange smile played on Persephone's lips.
"She awaits you in yonder kiosk," she replied, edging close to him."Take care you do not thwart her though--for to-day she strikes tokill."
"It is well," Tristan replied. "It must come, and will be no moretorture now than any other time."
Persephone gave a strange smile, then she led him through a cypressavenue, at the remote end of which the marble kiosk gleamed white inthe moonlight.
Pointing to it with white outstretched arm she gave him a mock bow andreturned to the palace.
His lips grimly set, Tristan, insensible to the beauty of the summernight, strode down the flower-bordered path. Woven sheets of silverymoonlight, insubstantial and unreal, lay upon the greensward. Thesounds of distant lutes and harps sank down through the hot air. Thesky was radiant with the magic lustre of a great white moon, suspendedlike an alabaster lamp in the deep azure overhead. Her rays invaded thesombre bosquets, lighted the trellised rose-walks and cast into boldrelief against the deep shadows of palm and ilex many feathery fountainsprays, crowning flower-filled basins of alabaster with whisperingcoolness.
The path was strewn with powdered sea shells and bordered on eitherside with rare plants, filling the air with exquisite perfume. Betweenthickets of yellow tufted mimosa and leafy bowers of acacia shimmeredthe crystal surface of the marble cinctured lake, tinted with pale goldand shrouded by pearl-hued vapors.--Pink and white myrtles, golden-huedjonquils, rainbow tinted chrysanthema, purple rhododendrons, iris,lilac and magnolia mingled their odors in an almost disconcerting orgy,and rare orchids raised their glowing petals with tropical gorgeousnessfrom vases of verdigris bronze in the moonlight.
At the entrance of the marble kiosk, there stood the immobile form of awoman, half hidden behind a cluster of blooming orchids.
The silver light of the moon fell upon the pale features of Theodora.Her gaze was fixed upon the dark avenue of cypress trees, through whichTristan was swiftly approaching.
She stood there waiting for him, clad in misty white, like themoonbeams, yet the byssus of her garb was no whiter than was the throatthat rose from the faultless trunk of her body, no whiter than herwonderful hands and arms.
Tristan's lips tightened. He had come to claim the scarf and dagger.To-night should end it all. There was no place in his life for thiswoman whose beauty would be the undoing of him who gave himself up toits fatal spell.
As he stood before her, a gleam of moonlight on his broad shoulders,Theodora felt the blood recede to her heart, the while she gazed on hisset, yet watchful face. His silence seemed to numb her faculties andher v
oice sounded strange as, extending her hand, she said:
"Welcome, my Lord Tristan."
He bowed low, barely touching the soft white fingers.
"The Lady Theodora has been pleased to summon me and I have obeyed. Iam here to claim the dagger which was taken from me and the scarf ofblue samite."
Theodora glanced at him for a moment, the blood drumming in her earsand driving a coherent answer from her mind, while Tristan met her gazewithout flinching, with the memory of Hellayne in his heart.
"Presently will I reveal this matter to you, my Lord Tristan," she saidat last. "Meanwhile sit you here beside me--for the night is hot, and Ihave waited long for your coming."
For a moment Tristan hesitated, then he took his seat beside her on themarble bench, his brain afire, as he mused on all the treachery hersoft bosom held.
"You look strangely at me, Tristan," she said in a low tone, droppingall formality, "almost as if it gave you pain to sit beside me. Yet Icannot think that a man like you has never rested beside a beautifulwoman in an hour of solitude and passion."
A laugh, soft as the music of the Castalian fountain, fell on Tristan'sear, but as he sat without answer, she continued, her face very closeto his:
"Strange, indeed, my words may sound in your ears, Tristan--andyet--can it be that you are blind as well as deaf to the call of theGoddess of Love, who rules us all?"
She paused, her lips ajar, her eyes alight with a strange fire, suchas he had seen therein on the night in the sunken gardens, beyond theglimmering lake.
"And what have I to give to you, Lady Theodora," he said at length."What can you expect from me, the giving of which would not turn myhonor to disgrace and my strength to water?"
At his words she rose up and, towering her glorious womanhood abovehim, glided behind the marble bench and, leaning hot hands upon hisshoulders, bent low her head, till strands of perfumed hair rested onhis tense features.
"Do you love power, Tristan?" she said with low, yet vibrant voice."I tell you that, if you give yourself to me, there are no heights towhich the lover of Theodora may not climb. The way lies open from campto palace, from sword to sceptre, and, though the aim be high, atleast it is worth the risk. Steep is the path, but, though attainmentseems impossible, I tell you it is the wings of love that shall raiseyou and bid you soar to flights of glory and rapture. I offer youa kingdom, if you will but lay your sword at my feet and yet morebesides, for, Tristan, I offer you myself."
The perfumed head bent lower and the scented cloud fell more thicklyupon him as he sat there, dazed and enchanted out of all powers ofresistance by the misty sapphire eyes that gleamed amid it, and seemedto drag his soul from out of him. Now his head was pillowed on her softbosom and her white arms were about him, while lingering kisses burnton his unresponsive lips, when suddenly she faced round with a cry,for there, directly before them in the clearing, stood a woman, whosegleaming white robe, untouched by any color, save that of the violetband that bound it round her shoulders, seemed one with the sun-kissedhair, tied into a simple knot.
Hellayne stood there as if deprived of motion, her blue eyes wide withhorror and pain, her curved lips parted, as if to speak, though nosound came from them, until Tristan turned and, as their glances met,he gave a strangled groan and buried his face in his hands.
Theodora stood immobile, with blazing eyes and terrible face, thenshe clapped her hands twice and at the sound two eunuchs appeared andstood motionless awaiting their mistress' behest. For apace there wassilence, while Theodora glanced from the one to the other, quiveringfrom head to foot with the violence of the passion that possessed her,casting anon a glance at Tristan who stood silent, with bowed head.
At length she glided up to him and, as she laid her two white hands onhis broad shoulders, Tristan shuddered and felt a longing to make anend of all her evil beauty and devilish cunning. Then, deliberately,she took the scarf of blue samite, which lay beside her and put herfoot upon it.
"This is very precious to you, Tristan, is it not?" she said in hersweet voice, while her witching eyes sank into his. "I was about totell you how you might serve me, and deserve all the happiness thatis in store for you when I was interrupted by the appearance of thiswoman. Can you tell me, who she is, and why she is regarding you sostrangely?"
As she spoke she turned slowly towards Hellayne whose face was pale asdeath.
A spasm of rage shook Tristan, at the sight of the woman who regardedhim out of wide, pitiful eyes, but even as he longed to pierce theheart of her who was striving to wreck all he held dear, Odo of Cluny'swarning seemed to clear his brain of the rage and hate that wasclouding it, and in that instant he knew, if he played his part, heheld in his hand the last throw in the dread game, of which Rome wasthe pawn.
"In all things will I do your bidding, Lady Theodora,--for who canwithstand your beauty and your enchantment?" said a voice that seemednot part of himself.
Theodora turned to Hellayne.
"You have heard the words the Lord Tristan has spoken," she said inveiled tone of mockery. "Tell me now, did you not know that I wasengaged upon matters of state when you intruded yourself into ourpresence?"
For a moment the blue eyes of Hellayne flashed swords with the darkorbs of Theodora. There was a silence and the two women read eachother's inmost thoughts, Hellayne meeting Theodora's contemptuous scornwith the keen look of one who has seen her peril and has nerved herselfto meet it.
To Tristan she did not even vouchsafe a glance.
"I followed one, perjured and forsworn," she said in tones that cutTristan's very soul, while a look of immeasurable contempt flashed fromher blue eyes. "You are welcome to him, Lady Theodora. I do not evenenvy you his memory."
Ere Theodora could reply, Hellayne, with a choking sob, turned and fleddown the moonlit path like some hunted thing, and ere either realizedwhat had happened she had vanished in the night.
Tristan, dreading the worst, his soul bruised in its innermostdepths, cursing himself for having permitted any consideration exceptHellayne's life to interfere with his preconceived plans, started tofollow, when Theodora, guessing his purpose, suddenly barred his way.
Ere he could prevent, she had thrown her arms about him and herface upturned to his stormy brow she whispered deliriously, utterlyoblivious of two eyes that burnt from their sockets like live coals:
"I love you! I love you!" and her whole being seemed ablaze with thefire of an all-devouring passion. "Tristan, I love you with a loveso idolatrous, that I could slay you with these hands rather than bespurned, be denied by you. Love me Tristan--love me! And I shall giveyou such love in return as mortals have never known. I am as one in atrance--I cannot see--I cannot think! I, the woman born to command--ambegging--imploring--I care not what you do with me--what becomes of me.Take me!--I am yours--body and soul!"
Her face was lighted up by the pale rays of the moon. But, thoughhis senses were steeped in a delirium that almost took from him hismanhood, the gloom but deepened on Tristan's brow, while with moisthungry lips she kissed him, again and again.
At last, seemingly on the verge of merging his whole being into herown, he succeeded in extricating himself from the steely coils of thosewhite arms.
"Lady Theodora," he said in cold and constrained tones, "I am too poorto return even in part such priceless favors of the Lady Theodora'slove!"
Stung in her innermost soul by his words, trembling from head to footwith the violence of her emotions, she panted in a passion of anger andshame.
"You dare? This to me? Since then you will not love me--take this--"
Above him, in her hand, gleamed his own unsheathed dagger.
Tristan with a supple movement caught the white wrist and wrenched theweapon from her.
"The Lady Theodora is always true to herself," he said with cuttingirony, retreating from her in the direction of the lake.
She threw out her arms.
"Tristan--Tristan--forgive me! Come back--I am not myself."
He paused
.
"And were you Aphrodite, I should spurn your love,--I should refuse tokiss the lips, which a slave, a churl has defiled."
"You spurn me," she laughed deliriously. "Perchance, you are right. Andyet," she added in a sadder tone, "how often does fate but grant usthe dream and destroy the reality. Go--ere I forget, and do what I mayrepent of. Go! My brain is on fire. I know not what I am saying. Go!"
As Tristan turned without response, a gleam of deadly hatred shone fromher eyes. For a long time she stood motionless by the kiosk, staringas one in a trance down the long cypress avenue, whose shadows hadswallowed up Tristan's retreating form.
The spectral rays of the moon broke here and there through the dense,leafy canopy, and dream-like the distant sounds of harps and fluteswere wafted through the stillness of the starlit southern night.