Saronia Part 39

When the evening had come, Saronia retired and lay on a couch of black marble. The windows of the room were thrown open to admit what little breeze there was; the honeysuckle and jasmine climbed the walls like rival lovers, and breathed their perfume on the priestess.

She looked towards the Temple; the sun threw rays aslant the roof and pillars, and it shone resplendent in the dying day.

In the rear of it sprang up against the sky tall trees of cl.u.s.ter-pine and ash, further away rose the great mountains, and behind them the golden gates of the setting sun, and beyond all, soft clouds cradled in light floated like temple domes of a great spiritual city.

The soul of the priestess was drawn away towards the glorious vision, and for a while she had forgotten herself. Darkness had changed to light, and she longed to be beyond all the uncertainty of this troubled existence, and move into a sphere where hope might be lost in love--where she would see things as they are, see them with the truth of a risen soul, not as she now saw them, with a soul straining to gaze at spiritual beauty through a ma.s.s of corruption, a shroud of earthly mould.

Her spirit struggled to free itself, to spread out its pinions and soar into an element of its own; but the time had not yet arrived for the prisoner to be free--her prison was bolted with bars of bra.s.s.

As the shadows deepened on the floor of that sacred room, and the last flickering light of day played between her tresses, turning her silvery robes to gray, it was evident her mind was much agitated--influenced in a marked degree.

She took from her bosom the parchment Chios had given--the ma.n.u.script which taught the Christian creed--and, grasping it firmly with her right hand, walked towards the window, looking lovingly and long at the great Temple. She moved away, murmuring:

'I will see Chios. I will see him, and know more of his faith.'

Thus was this magnificent spirit besieged by contending forces. She stood like a mountain peak encircled with storm, like a beacon on a rock lashed by the fury of the maddening seas, like a ship in a valley of waves, rudderless, shroudless, with creaking timbers and sailless yards.

Her first thought was, under the cover of night, to fly to the studio of Chios. No, he would not be there. A better way suggested itself.

She stood erect, with face towards where the city lay, and, stretching out both hands, she threw a wave of will forward in search of Endora. It reached her at her mountain home.

The witch sprang to her feet, and the command of Saronia came to her: 'Come to the Temple to-morrow morn. Bring me a gift of roses.'

That night the priestess rested, slumbering till the sun arose and the mists on the mountains had cleared away. Then she awoke, and went forth to the morning service. As she pa.s.sed by, many beasts were being sacrificed at the altar in front of the Temple, portions of the flesh and basins of blood were being carried within.

She stood beside the sacrifice in the midst of the Temple, heard the crackling wood as it slowly burned up the pieces, watched the smoke until it ascended, freely pa.s.sing out through the aperture in the roof; then she knew the sacrifice was accepted of the G.o.ddess.

The omen at one time would have been to her one of great joy. Now another voice was echoing: 'Sacrifices and burnt-offerings I have no pleasure in. The true sacrifice is a broken and a contrite heart.'

As soon as she could, she turned from the Temple and sought the quiet of her room, sitting by the window where the sunlight kissed the roses and the breezes fanned her cheeks.

CHAPTER x.x.xVII

THE MESSAGE

As the day advanced a message was brought to the priestess that a woman was without who wished to speak to her, and that she carried roses in her hand, an offering to Diana.

'Let her come to me,' said Saronia.

'Come within and seat thyself. I have much to say to thee, mother of Chios. I know I may trust thee. Thou wilt never betray?'

'No. By all that is left for my eternal salvation, I swear to be true!'

'Then hear me. Take this message to Chios. I must see him.'

'Thou knowest, lady, Chios is a Christian?'

'I do. Dost thou know aught of this sect, seeing thou movest abroad among the people?'

'O n.o.ble Saronia, 'tis a mighty G.o.d they serve.'

'What meanest thou?'

'I will tell thee. One day there came to my house the sons of Sceva; they came to cast out a spirit of evil from a tortured man.'

'Did they succeed?'

'No. Miserably failed! And I, by my power, tried by Hecate to draw him forth, but I could not.'

'By what process did they attempt this?'

'They invoked the name of the Jewish Christ, but the spirit rebelled against them, and disowned their power. They had made a cross, the symbol of that G.o.d, to carry out their plan, and when they had fled and I also looked back, I saw the cross all lit with glorious sheen in the hands of the man, and the spirit had come out of him. I fear this faith; Diana, Hecate are servants to it, and this Christ will prevail in Ephesus. I would this G.o.d would shield me from the curse, and I would lie at His feet in grat.i.tude and joy.'

'Endora, thou speakest strange sayings. Art thou certain of all those things, or are they phantasies of the mind?'

'They are true, n.o.ble Saronia, as true as yonder Temple is the shrine of thy G.o.ddess; true as there is a central sun in the universe, around which all other suns revolve. And this Christ, they say, is the great spiritual orb, the grand Spirit of the whole around which every other intelligence moves, and to whom every spirit in the vast domains shall bow. It's a terrible thought, is it not?'

'Why?'

'Because, if this saying be true, Diana is no more. She is not supreme, and will fade away as the ages grow, dwindling into nothingness, and her teaching be but a beautiful story.'

'Ah! Endora, thou speakest wisely. Truly thou art acting a part in a.s.suming the craft of a low-born fortune-teller. I see thou art skilled in words, and still hast the soul and wisdom of a priestess; as a diamond thou wilt sparkle, begrimed as thou art with the adverse circ.u.mstances of thy life. Thou hast interested me. It is well one should know what is propagated around her. Hast thou any more respecting this strange belief?'

'Only this: One day when on the mountain yonder two men were near. I hid, but close enough to listen.'

'Who were they?'

'One was Chios, the other his teacher, one of the chiefs of the Christians.'

'What did they say?'

'I heard the old man speak in prophecy, saying the time was not far away when the beautiful city beneath them should crumble to decay, the temples perish, and the altars be broken and buried deep in the earth, until men should seek for the glories and religion of Ephesus, but should search in vain--that the faith of the G.o.ddess should be but a broken note in the great hymn which the ages sing. More he said, but all of the same import.'

'What kind of man was this prophet?'

'He was mean in appearance, possessing an intellect like the mind of a G.o.d. His eyes were piercing, and his spirit consumed his flesh; his body was but a disguise. Surely within that frail and plainly-built structure there resided a soul which has circled around the central throne of the King of the universe. He is a messenger from Him, whoever He may be.'

'Endora--Myrtile may I call thee?--go! Be careful of the message to Chios. My life--everything depends on its safe delivery. Place it carefully, and speed away. The message demands action this day.'

Endora crept up the avenue of myrtles to the door of Chios, and timidly knocked at it.