Nicanor - Teller of Tales : A Story of Roman Britain Read online

  Book IV

  THE LORD'S DAUGHTER AND THE ONE WHO WENT IN CHAINS

  I

  Marius rejoined Eudemius in his library.

  "I have given command to have the slave Nicanor sent to the cells," hesaid. "It was he, as I have just found, of whom the Lady Varia spoke inthe early evening. When we left the torture chamber, it is now two hoursago, I saw him in the passage outside, with another, a woman, I think.He put out the lamp in the passage, but I saw him first. It is as wellto catch our bird before he flies, as without doubt he will now try todo, finding himself discovered, and keep him safely nested until we wanthim. He is a surly brute, but I know a way to get what we want out ofhim."

  "And that is?" said Eudemius.

  "Salt food and no water," said Marius curtly. "I have tried it before,in camp. We will let him recover from this so-called madness, first. Butyou said you would speak with me. I am at your command."

  Eudemius shook his head.

  "Not to-night," he said. "I am over tired, and it grows late. To-morrow,perhaps. Did the Africans tell me that the old man Marcus is dead?"

  "They did," Marius answered, somewhat surprised at the question."Undoubtedly he was mad, for never did I see such actions in a saneman."

  "And you believe that the gods will take vengeance on me for havingbrought to pass the death of such a haunted one?" Eudemius askedunexpectedly.

  Marius shrugged.

  "I did not say that," he answered. "Maybe they will, maybe not. If youbelieve that they will, it is probable that they will do so."

  Eudemius laughed. As quickly he became grave once more.

  "I had not meant to kill him! I was fond of him--I was even going togive him gold and have put upon him the pileus of a freedman, for hehath served me well. He had belonged to Constantia, my wife. Perhaps itwas I who was mad to-night. Sometimes I have thought--I must askClaudius if there is prospect of that--" He broke off. "Pardon! Iforgot, and thought aloud. To-morrow I shall be myself, but to-night Iam shaken. If you will excuse me, I shall leave you. The house is atyour service, if you do not choose to retire yet. Summon Mycon--he shallfill Marcus's place--and give what commands you will."

  "I think that I shall follow your example," Marius said, and stifled ayawn, "if you will tell me how to reach my rooms from here through theselabyrinthine passages of yours. This part of the house I do not knowwell."

  Eudemius looked at him in silence a moment, so that Marius thought hehad not heard his question. He was about to repeat it, when Eudemiussaid:

  "From this door go to your left, until you come to the gallery whichruns along the northern, not the southern, end of the large court. Godown this to your right, and you will reach your own apartments. Vale!"

  Marius took his leave, wishing his host good rest. He strolled throughhalls on which looked numberless rooms, furnished richly, warm andsilent, waiting for the guests who never came. Not a servant was insight; the silence of midnight wrapped the place in slumber. Lamps,swinging from tall standards or from the ceilings, shed a mellow lightaround; his feet pressed rich woven rugs which hid the mosaic pavementsbeneath. Around him was a golden perfumed stillness. He went moreslowly, steeping his senses in the aroma of luxury.

  "How a man might welcome his friends to such a house as this!" hemuttered. "I can see them here around me--Fabian, Julius, Volux, all therest. Ye gods, how the walls would echo! Now it all lies fallow, itswealth unknown, its treasures unseen. It should be used--ay, used to thevery top notch of its value. Where is the use of paintings, marbles,rugs, halls, gardens, wealth such as this, with none to enjoy them all,save a dying man and a fair-faced fool?" His thin lips tightened. Theseed Eudemius had planted was springing to lusty growth. "And they aremine, all mine, for the taking. By the soul of my mother, I will takethem! I shall give feasts here such as Lucullus might have envied; I canwin what legion and what station I will; whatever fields Rome hath leftunconquered, I shall conquer for her. From the field I can reach theforum, with a name which without wealth I could never gain. The timesare changing; it is time that men changed with them."

  The words died upon his lips. He had reached a glass door, leading intothe small room formed by the angle of the north and east galleries whichflanked the court. This room, screened like the gallery, by glass wallsfrom the outer air, was filled with plants, answering in some sort to aconservatory. Such rooms, used for different purposes and varied as tofurnishing, were at all the angles of the galleries. Marius, lookingthrough the half-open door, thought that the place seemed unfamiliar,and began to fear he had taken the wrong way. Yet he had followedclosely the directions of Eudemius. He was about to turn back when hiseye fell on some one asleep close by the window which overlooked thecourt.

  "My lady herself, in very fact. This will be the second time I havewaked her. Without doubt, Fate hath willed it so. What may she be doinghere at this hour, without her women? Watched to see some one enter thecourt, perhaps, and dropped asleep. To see whom? Did she know, bychance, that I must pass this way from her father's rooms?"

  He opened the door softly and entered. But the slight noise arousedVaria. She sat up, rubbing her eyes.

  "Is it not late for such solitary communing, sweet friend?" Mariusasked, approaching. He saw that she was in a plain robe of sheerestwhite, ungirdled; that her hair fell loose, undecked with jewels, thather feet were bare. "Perhaps you wait for some one?"

  She sat on the edge of the couch, her hands clasped in her lap,betraying no smallest consciousness of the unconventionality of herappearance. Her white feet against the deep crimson of the rug held hiseyes.

  "Oh, no!" she said sweetly. "Besides, if I did, should I tell you?"

  He found himself again in the attitude of treating her as a child; feltagain his baffled perplexity at her glance, veiled and sidelong, whichwas not a child's glance.

  He bent toward her. The time had come to crown his schemes of highambition, and the gods had thrown opportunity in his way.

  "Was it for me you waited?" he asked boldly. He was prepared forindignation, repulsion, anything except what followed. She dropped hereyes, leaning a trifle away from him.

  "And--if it were?" she murmured. He stared an instant, and seized hischance.

  "I should thank the gods and you, sweet one, and do my best to showappreciation," he said; and sat down on the couch beside her.

  "But it was not!" she cried hastily, and moved farther away. In spite ofhimself Marius's lips twitched to a smile. As she retreated, headvanced.

  "No? But it was I who came!" he said, his keen eyes on her. But her lookdid not falter. "You waited because the gods willed that I should cometo you," he said, speaking rapidly, since she showed signs ofnervousness. "And I have come, to plead my love, and to ask yours inreturn. Once before were we interrupted when I tried to speak; now thechance is mine at last. You shall anoint my door with wolf's fat andrule at my hearth as wife. Your father wishes it--he would be glad tosee our love blossom into flower. Say, wilt thou love me, sweet?"

  But Varia sprang to her feet, clasping her hands over her ears.

  "Love--love!" she cried fretfully. "Nay, I have had enough of love!"

  Marius laughed aloud.

  "So, thou strange beauty? Maybe, but I have not. And I think there isstill something left for thee to learn. Dost remember a game I was toteach thee once--a game which two can play?"

  She interrupted him, standing poised as though for flight, her head onone side, a smile touching her crimson lips, her veiled eyes glancingsidewise into his.

  "Nay--I remember?" she said with a rippling laugh. "Why now, how shouldI remember, my lord? Am I not a fool?"

  His glance was somewhat taken aback.

  "Fool or not, I love thee, pretty witch, and thou shalt be my wife."

  She shook her head, and the laughter died from her face, leaving itstartled.

  "Thy wife? Wife to thee? Oh, no! I cannot be that!"

  "Oh, yes! Thou canst and must and shalt be that! I'll not let thee go solightly!" He
advanced upon her, but she stretched out a white naked armto full length, a finger pointing at him, and he stopped. Just why, hedid not pause to think.

  "Nay, my lord!" she said, and her voice took on the haunting toneswhich had so perplexed her father. "That I am not as other girls I knowright well. Why, then, should my lord desire me for wife? Thou dost notlove me. Were I thy wife, I must love thee, and I do not wish to lovethee. I could say,--what are the words?--always and ever they areringing in my heart,--'Where thou art, Caius, there am I, Caia,' with mylips as well as with my heart, but not to thee--oh, not to thee!" Sheflung out her arms with a gesture of sudden wild abandonment, andclasped them over her eyes. Her voice broke in a storm of tears."Now--woe is me!--all I can say is 'Where art thou, Caius?' I havewaited so long--so long!"

  "But he is here at last," said Marius, and took her hand.

  She wept softly, with hanging head, making no effort to get away.

  "I will pray my lord father that he force me not to become wife tothee!"

  "Thy lord father gives command that thou shalt become wife to Mariussince he desires thee, and to no other man!" said Eudemius's voicebehind them. Marius wheeled, as Varia gave a startled cry and wrenchedher hand free. Eudemius came into the room, his face changed as noliving soul had seen it changed until then.

  "I feared that thou hadst not taken the right way back," he said toMarius, and there was a shade of significance in his tone. "Therefore--Icame to see."

  "Father, say I need not be wife to him!" cried Varia, bold in herterror.

  "Why not?" Eudemius asked harshly. "What reason lies behind thyrefusal?"

  "I do not know!" she stammered. "I know only that I would not wed withhim. I love him not--"

  "Love! what hath love to do with it? And what know you of love, littlefool?" said Eudemius, with impatience.

  Varia started forward, catching desperately at the straw.

  "Thou hast said it!" she cried stormily. "I am fool--fool--fool--fitwife for no man! Who wants to wed a fool?"

  "Be silent! I'll teach thee--" Eudemius exclaimed, but Mariusinterposed.

  "Pray thee--father--leave the taming of this wild bird to me!" he said,and emphasized the word, and watched. He had judged subtly. Eudemiusturned to him, his hands out, his stern face broken up and working. Hepatted Marius's shoulders with shaking hands, and leaned forward andkissed him on the forehead.

  "My son--oh, my son, my son!" he cried.

  But Varia, unnoticed of either, cast herself upon the couch and wept,her face hidden in its silken cushions.

  Livinius came from his sickroom and joined them in a week, and was toldthe news. From his face it was apparent that he was pleased, and that inspite of all his words, the match would be very well to his liking. Butwhen he got Marius alone, which was difficult, since Eudemius wouldscarce let his prospective son-in-law out of his sight, he spoke to himwith all seriousness.

  "It will be a great thing for thee, my son; thou canst carve out forthyself what career thou wilt. I am pleased; thou art pleased;Eudemius--why, for Eudemius, he is a changed man utterly."

  "Truly, he is," Marius agreed. "Who could dream that behind that ironmask of his there dwelt such affection, such store of human kindness?"

  "All for thee, lad," said Livinius. His tone, with all its pride, held atinge of sadness. "It brings the water to my eyes to watch the newnature struggling in him with the old. He hath pinned all his faith andhope to thee. Be thou worthy of the trust."

  "Ay, so I will," said Marius readily. He shook himself with a quickbreath. "And the task will be no easy one, father mine. I do not feelmyself at all a cuckoo stealing into a nest ready feathered. What I getI shall pay for, in degree, if not in kind. There will be three men'swork in handling this estate."

  "And the one who is most nearly touched in this?" said Livinius. "Shewhose poor little hands are weighted with the gold of which she knowsnothing, whose child's head is filled with dreams in which thou hast nopart?"

  "Oh, Varia?" said his son. "I suppose it is no worse for her than forother women. She shall have all that I can give to content her. Father,it is a strange thing about that child. When I am away from her, I willown that her memory doth not linger over long with me. But when I amwith her, she bewitches me. I know not what else to call it. Always I amtrying to probe her; always I find myself foiled and baffled when Ithink that I have found the clew to her mystery. If ever she shouldwaken from this state of hers.... At present she is angry, and I havenot seen her for two days. That may be, but she forgets that soon itwill not be for her to say whether I shall see her or whether not."

  His lips tightened; in his dark eyes a yellow spark flashed and died.Livinius glanced at him, smiled, and held his peace.

  It was even as Livinius had said. Eudemius was, if not a changed man, atleast a changing one. Sombre his face would always be; Fate had bittentoo deep for the scars ever to be smoothed away. But with the hauntingfear removed that his name and fortune should fall into unworthy hands,he seemed to have shaken off ten years of nightmare trouble. His voicebegan to lose its bitter harshness; for the first time his slaves nolonger trembled at his glance. His attitude toward Marius wascurious--also, in view of his nature, touching. On Marius he lavishedall the pride and tenderness of an adoring father to his son, and ofboth there was more than anyone had guessed. He worshipped Mariusopenly, gloried in him exultingly, and was fiercely and suppressedlyjealous of Livinius's prior right. He hung on Marius's every word;shared his sports and hunting; tried to regain a moment of his lostyouth that he might be a comrade as well as a father. At times a strangemood took him, when he, Eudemius the proud, became humbly grateful thatMarius should be willing to mate with the ill-starred daughter of hishouse. In general they accepted each other on terms of completeequality. Each was receiving and conferring a favor; there was no debton either side.

  Marius found himself not in the least embarrassed by his superfluity ofparents. He adjusted himself to the circumstances with tact and asympathetic consideration which would scarcely have been expected ofhim. He managed the two fathers with consummate skill, divided hisattentions honorably between them, and played the role of demigod toperfection. When Livinius and Eudemius were together, he wascircumspect, careful lest he arouse parental jealousy on either side;but when he and Eudemius were alone, he cast aside restraint and calledhim "father" to Eudemius's heart's content. More and more the two cameto lean on the ready strength of him; since it is the law of life thatthe old, for all their wisdom and the experience of their years, shallinevitably come to look for support and guidance to the young, who enterthe lists unproven in all but strength.

  Six months at least must elapse before Marius could lawfully claim whatwas already his in fullest measure. There were endless settlements to bemade, for Eudemius was determined that nothing should be left undonewhich would assure the maintenance of his name and fortune. Marius'sheirs must take the name, even as he himself must do; the gold and landsmust be protected so far as human means might devise. Eudemius hadlawyers from the famous law-school at Eboracum, and spent long hours inhis library, poring over deeds and instruments. There must be an exactaccounting of his estates in Britain and in Rome; houses, lands,personal effects, and slaves. Also, since an imperial alliance couldhave been effected with scarcely greater pomp and circumstance thanEudemius planned, six months was the shortest time in which thefestivities could be arranged.

  "While I live," said Eudemius, in one of their daily talks together, "Ishall retain nominal control as head of the family. When you write _Diismanibus_ over me, every denarius will belong to you and the heirs ofyour body forever. But should the gods of the shades claim me before youare legally my inheritor, all will revert to our lord the emperor asguardian of the girl, to be parcelled out among his minions, and therewill be left nothing. Therefore my haste."

  With this, Marius had entire sympathy. He also welcomed the speed withwhich the business was being put through. If Eudemius had changed,Marius was changing also. For no man
can look on power well-nigh aslimitless as any man below a sovereign may wield, knowing that powerbetween his own hands for good or ill, and not become either a despot ora chastened man. And there comes a moment in the transition when it isdoubtful which role will fit. Marius, in the natural course of events,had reached this stage. He was sobered at the prospect opening beforehim; withal his ambition was mounting by leaps and bounds. There seemednothing which he could not do. He thrilled at the contemplation of theposition which would be his; for he was human and Roman, and power, andstill more power, was as the breath of life to his nostrils. And hethrilled again at the absolute confidence placed in his integrity byEudemius; for he was honorable, and that his honor should remainuntarnished as his sword was the only law to which he owned. But sincethis would generally serve all other purposes, it sufficed.

  II

  Over the marshes twilight was falling. The sun had set; the western skywas tinged with cold pale lemon; further, where the color faded into thedusky dome of night, hung a wan evening star. The land was snow-boundand desolate as far as the eye could see. The marsh-ford was glazed witha thin sheet of ice, through which, by the banks, clumps of black frozenreeds protruded. Through this ice, much broken by wheels, dark shallowwater showed. On the other side of Thorney the river flowed sluggish andsullen, ice-bound along its banks. Midstream, making slow way to theisland, a round clumsy coracle, such as were used by fishermen, waspaddling, the only vessel abroad. In it sat two persons, the boatman andEldris. She sat huddled forlornly in the coracle's bottom, shivering inher long black cloak.

  Two carts creaked from the high-road down to the marsh-ford on thenorthern side of the island, and labored through, their drivers muffledto the eyes in cloaks with heavy hoods drawn close around their faces.On the island itself men appeared at intervals in the alleys between thehouses. There were few camp-fires on the beach, showing that those whohad come had nearly all found shelter within the houses. The air waskeenly cold and very still, so that sounds carried clearly; but,unaccountably, there were few sounds. At this, the busiest time of theday, Thorney seemed strangely silent.

  The coracle grounded gently on the beach, almost at the moment that thecarts entered the ford on the opposite side of the island. Eldrisstepped ashore, gave a bit of money to the boatman, who spat on it andcursed. She asked faintly:

  "Canst tell me, friend, where might be the wine-shop of one Nicodemus?"

  But the man, plainly considering that he had given good measure for thewage he had received, was surly.

  "Near the end of this street that runs straight back from the beach tothe other side," he answered briefly, and heaved his boat of bull's hideand wicker to his back, and went off, waiting for no furtherquestioning. Eldris looked after him in half resentful reproach, andstarted up the street which cut across the island from ford to ford,walking slowly like one faint and weary from long continued exertion. Inall the length of the street she saw no one who might direct her to thewine-shop. It was deserted, save for stray prowling dogs that nosed andshivered among heaps of refuse. Lights showed through chinks from behindclosed doors of houses; there was a smell of cooking in the air; attimes a low-pitched growl of talk or muffled boisterous laughter reachedher.

  Dusk was deepening fast and the cold was bitter. Eldris stumbled ontoward the end of the street, her eyes searching the houses on eitherhand. When but three remained between her and the open strip of beach onthe marsh side, she paused irresolute. One was a low and vulgar place,its door fast closed, no light to be seen about it. The second was ahalf burnt ruin, where cattle had been stalled. The third seemed ofsomewhat better class. It presented a blank wall to the street, brokenonly by a low and narrow door with a wicket, betraying nothing. Eldris,still hesitating, saw two carts, growing out of the gloom ahead, comingtoward her. She heard the thud of the horses' feet on the frozen ground,the creak of wheels and straps, finally the voices of the drivers.

  "Surely they will know this Nicodemus," she said, and started forward tohail them, when a word of one carter, shouted back to the other, a fewyards to the rear, transfixed her where she stood and sent her shiveringwith fright as well as cold.

  "Quicker, man, or we'll get no bed this night. Hito will have somethingto say to us for the hours we've been away, I'm thinking."

  Swift terror seized on Eldris at the word. That there might be two Hitosin the country she never stopped to think. These were Eudemius's men; ifthey saw her, they would report to Hito at the house; she would besearched for, overtaken, and suffer the fate of captured runaway slaves.In a panic she fled back to the blank-walled house and beat upon thedoor.

  Instantly it was opened. In her excitement she had time for no surpriseat this, no feeling but relief that no time was lost. As the cartersdrew abreast of the door, she slipped within and slammed it shut.

  "Well!" said the one who had opened. "What are you trying to do?"

  "Pardon!" Eldris stammered. "There were men passing--"

  At her voice the woman looked at her keenly.

  "Girl, you are frozen with cold! This is no night for you to be abroad."

  "I could not help it!" said Eldris with chattering teeth. Her voicefailed her with her strength; before she had time to so much as see thewoman's face all things grew dark before her eyes. The woman caught heras she fell.

  She awoke to life again with burning pains in her face and head, andfound two women bending over her. One held a bowl, from which the otherwas rubbing Eldris's face with snow. Both were young; both were tawdrilydressed, with many strings of beads and rings on neck and fingers.Eldris, looking at them, raised her head, and asked the first questionthat came into her head.

  "Where am I?"

  The woman with the bowl smiled a little. She was a fair-haired creature,with eyes of Saxon blue, with hollow cheeks and scarlet lips.

  "Do you not know the house of Chloris?" she asked.

  Eldris shook her head. Her eyes asked a question which her lips had notstrength to utter. The second woman spoke; a dark-haired beauty, she,with a profile of purest Grecian outline.

  "Cease thy chatter, Sada! Canst not see the girl is dead with cold andhunger? Leave me the bowl and go get food and wine."

  Sada put down the bowl and ran out of the room.

  "Your face was frozen," said the Greek. "It is well that you found helpin time."

  "You are good," Eldris murmured with stiff lips. She was dropping tosleep again through sheer exhaustion in spite of pain, when Sadareturned with a tray which held a bowl, smoking hot, an ampulla of wine,and a cheap brass cup. Between them the women roused Eldris and fed hercarefully. As her strength began to return, she looked about her withquickening interest. But the room told her nothing. It was small andbare, furnished with but the bed on which she lay, a copper brazier ofcharcoal, and a couple of wooden stools. The women, over her head,talked in low voices.

  "She will sleep to-night, and to-morrow our mistress will see her," saidSada. "Where didst find her, Eunice?"

  "At the door," the Greek answered. "I was stationed there to let in youknow who, and heard a knock. So this girl entered, crying out that menwere after her, so far as I could understand, and slammed the doorbefore I could say her nay. You told Chloris of her, then?"

  Sada nodded and laid a finger on her lips.

  "She sleeps," she whispered. "Let us go."

  But Eldris opened heavy eyes with effort.

  "Pray you tell me where is the wine-shop of Nicodemus!" she murmured,husky with drowsiness. "It is there that I must go and wait--"

  The tall Greek Eunice laid a hand on her aching head.

  "Sleep now," she said. "To-morrow will be time enough to know."

  And Eldris slept, as lost to the world behind the dead blank wall asNicanor in his dungeon cell.

  It seemed to her, in her sleep, that she lay with body dead but soulalive and conscious. She dreamed confusedly, strange formless dreams, inwhich women dark and fair, Hito, Nicanor, and herself were involvedinextricably. She dreamed of stealth
y whisperings behind closed doors,of laughing faces which looked down upon her as she lay with body deadand soul conscious. With awakening came remembrance and a thrill ofapprehension. She lifted herself on an elbow and saw the Saxon girl Sadasitting on the floor, regarding her steadfastly.

  "Have I slept long?" Eldris asked.

  "It is evening again," said Sada.

  "Then I must go at once!" Eldris exclaimed. She got out of bed,tottering a little, and shivering in the chilly air of the room. "Ifthanks be any payment for what you have done for me, you have all ofmine. They are all I have to give."

  Sada answered nothing. She helped Eldris to dress, combed her hair, andbrought her food. Then Eldris, in a fever to be at her journey's end andknow what was in store for her, said again:

  "Pray you tell me where is the wine-shop of Nicodemus"--and thought theother smiled. But Sada, instead of answering, said only:

  "Before you go, our mistress would hold speech with you."

  "Your mistress? Are you, then, slaves?" Eldris ventured.

  A strange look crossed Sada's face.

  "Ay," she answered. "Slaves, who shall die in bondage."

  She led Eldris from the room across a small and ill-paved court toanother door.

  "You will find her here," she said, and pushed Eldris gently across thethreshold.

  The room was lighted by many lamps, some of pottery of the cheapestsort, others of wrought bronze, and was filled with a strange and subtleperfume. There was a confusion of furniture, and the walls were hungwith curtains, which gave the place a bizarre and Eastern look. So muchEldris took in with her first step forward. Then she saw a figure seatedupon a mattress on the floor, a fat and shapeless figure, bunched inmany garments. Atop of the fat figure was a fat face, with thin hairwhose natural gray showed through its ruddy dye, with flabby paintedcheeks, and heavy-lidded eyes darkened beneath with antimony. A Greekmight have called it the face of a Greek, and looked again to make sure;a Roman might have called it the face of a Roman. In it one seemed tocatch a hint, mysterious and elusive, of all ages and all nations. Onceit had been a fine face; even, in a time long past, it had been touchedwith beauty. Now it was at once a relic and a monument. The substancewas the same, but transmuted into coarser mould. Where had been softblue tracings were red and angry veins; where had been graciousroundness was gross fleshiness. Only the brow, God-made, the onlyfeature which may be neither made nor marred by human means, remainedthe same, broad and white, and smooth as marble.

  The woman sat perfectly motionless, looking at nothing. On her fathands, which rested on her knees, were rings set with blazing stones; onevery finger a ring, and on every ring a slender chain which led backover the hand to a heavy wristlet of gold in which a great ruby burned.Her garments were held by fibulae of iron and bone, cheaply made; aroundher neck were many strings of beads, some of carved jet, some of silver,some of colored glass. In her grotesqueness and impassivity she mighthave posed as a graven goddess of some unholy rite. In the sight of her,also, was something so unexpected that Eldris stopped and stared.

  "Will you close that door?" said the woman. Her voice was low-pitchedand clear and very sweet, with no hint of coarseness in its modulations.Coming from such a bulk it was surprising--more, it was startling.Eldris obeyed, taken wholly aback. "Now come hither."

  Eldris came.

  The woman's heavy-lidded eyes settled on her as a vulture settles on itsprey, devouring her, line by line, feature by feature, until, to hersurprise and discomfort, Eldris felt herself flushing as though she hadbeen under the eyes of a man.

  "Whence come you?" said the soft voice; so commonplace a question and socasually asked, that Eldris was nearly betrayed into indiscretion. Shecaught herself and said instead:

  "From Londinium."

  "And you are--" The woman looked her over again. "Perhaps a dancer, ormaybe a mime, running away because your master misused you?"

  "A dancer--yes, that is it," said Eldris, catching at the invention."And my master misused me, and I ran away. Now I seek the wine-shop--"

  The woman laughed, a silvery tinkle of mirth.

  "Child, spare your conscience!" she said lightly. "See, let me tell youhow it lies with you. Whence come you? From a great house to thesouthward, where one Hito rules with a rod of fear. What are you? Aslave, my dear, and a runaway, with your life, in consequence, forfeitand lying this moment in my hand. Some one helped you to get away, andbade you wait for him at the wine-shop of this master Nicodemus, forwhom you clamor. How dare you put me and mine in jeopardy, girl, bythrusting yourself upon us? Know you not the penalty visited on thosewho harbor fugitive slaves?"

  Eldris started back from her, gray and pinched with fear. How did thewoman know? Who had told her? Eldris could not guess; knew nothing butthat her life indeed lay in the fat jewelled hands resting on thewoman's knees.

  But the latter's tone changed. Perhaps there was in her something of thefeline; the instinct of the cat to gambol with its prey. She laughedagain.

  "Nay, child!" she said gently. "I did but sport with thee. And I amsorry, poor hunted rabbit. Never fear, my girl--Chloris has yet to turndistress from her door. How do I know these things? Why, that is easilyanswered, since all night long in sleep your tongue went over this andthat--such a babble as was never heard. The tongue by day may lie, butthe tongue by night speaks truth. My women who waited on you did pieceits fragments, and came with the whole and told me. Now I have this tosay: Stay in this house, and you shall be safer than in your father's.When search is made for you, be sure the searchers will come hither, andthat is the best thing that could be. You will not be the first girl whohas sought shelter with Chloris. And I dare take the risk of keepingyou, because I am so very sure that you will not be found. If the housebe searched, no one of your description would be found herein--and youyourself might tell the stationarii so without fear. Stay with me, andyou shall have food and shelter and protection from the law."

  "And I--what wouldst have of me in return?" asked Eldris slowly.

  "Naught but what you would give willingly," said Chloris. "Mark youthis, girl: Chloris forces no man nor woman to do her bidding. If onewishes to enter here, she may enter; if one wishes to leave, she mayleave. I can but repeat what I have said. Come to me and you shall besafe--I'll lay my life on that. If you will not, well, go your way; youshall not be betrayed by me or mine."

  "If you would but let me be servant to you!" Eldris begged. "I amfriendless and weary, and I dread to face the world again, for there isno rest nor safety for me at all. I would work in scullery or inkitchen, and serve you loyally and gladly; more than this I will not do.Once I fled to escape shame; shall I then seek that from which I fled?"

  "So be it, then," said Chloris. "I shall not compel you, for that is notthe way of Chloris. You have told so much while no sense was in you thatyou might now straighten out the tale. I see your doubts; you do notknow me, yet you have your opinion. That is right, child; better forone's own peace of mind to trust too little than too much. But you needfear nothing. I, too, was friendless once, and weary once, and found norest nor safety. That was long and long ago; but sometimes I think ofit, even these days. So, if you will, tell your tale; and if you willnot, keep it. But remember, I have said that your secret shall not bebetrayed by me or mine. Many things I have come to hold lightly, but mypromise is not one of them."

  "I will tell," said Eldris. It was an impulse, born of she knew not whatemotion. So she told, taking a fellow-mortal on trust for sake of thefaith that was in her; and again the heavy-lidded eyes fastened on her,never wavering from her face as she told her tale.

  "I am slave to the lord Eudemius, him whom men call the Torturer. Hito,who is steward there, hath persecuted me for a year and more, so that Iwent in dread of him. Six nights ago I escaped from that house throughthe help of one therein, and was told by him to seek Thorney, andNicodemus who kept a wine-shop there. But I dared not come here directlest I be traced at once. I wandered, seeking what food I might, andthen I
lost my way. For five days did I toil on, but yesterday regainedmy road. I had strayed wrong many miles, but it may be that this was agood thing, if it would help to throw off those pursuing. For unless Ican find hiding, I shall be lost."

  "And that one who aided your escape?" said Chloris.

  "I do not think it would be just to speak of him," Eldris answered,hesitating. "What I have told concerns myself. There is no need thatanother should be put in danger through me."

  "Is he your lover?"

  Under those changeless, boring eyes, dull color crept into Eldris'swhite face.

  "Nay," she answered.

  "Do you, then, love him?"

  "Nay," said Eldris again. "I think--" she spoke slowly, as though thewords were impelled--"I think that no one loves him. Rather is he lookedon with fear and hate."

  "Then must he rear his head in some fashion above the herd," saidChloris, and laughed at the uncomprehension in Eldris's eyes.

  But with the mention of Nicanor, remembrance of his direction returnedanew to Eldris, seduced for a moment by sure promise of safety.

  "He bade me go to this Nicodemus, and I dare not do otherwise," she saiddistressfully. "Last night I was searching for the place. If he were tocome and find me not there--"

  "So, he will be a runaway also?" said Chloris, lightly. And at Eldris'sdistress--"Fear not, foolish! Should not all slaves stand together? Bodyof Bacchus! Did they do so, there would shortly be no slaves! But thatis as it must be. As for Nicodemus, know you what place his wine-shopis? A drinking den where violent men gather to brawl and gamble. No fitone, truly, for a maid! Rather, stay you here, and when this unlovedcomrade of yours arrives, why, I'll hear of it, and you shall know."

  Eldris hesitated and lost her game. Chloris clapped her hands. Sadaentered, with a glance full of curiosity.

  "Take the girl to the kitchen," Chloris gave command. "Tell the cooksshe will serve as scullery maid and naught else. And hark you, Sadagirl! No word of last night's doings, or it will go hard with you. Nowgo, the two of you."

  She waved them away, and they went out and left her sitting there.

  "She is strange!" said Eldris, pondering deeply.

  "Ay, strange!" Sada echoed. "Us she rules with a rod of iron, andyet--we love her, every one."

  "I fear her," said Eldris, trying, after her nature, to analyze theemotions in her. "For she is old and very evil. And I was helpless, andshe gave me help; homeless, and she took me in."

  III

  The Winter wore away and the great house hummed with preparation for themarriage festivities of Marius and Varia. All the friends of Eudemiusand of Livinius and Marius were bidden; rich men and powerful, these,foremost of the circle of feudal lords whose power in Britain had becomesupreme, and whose allegiance to the Empire was long since merelynominal. Of them were Quintus Fabius, a senator in the curia, orgoverning body of Londinium; Caius Julius Valens, duumvir--chiefmagistrate, with rank corresponding in some sort to that of governor--ofIsca Silurum, that great city which in the old days the Second Legion,the Augustan, had made famous. Also came the Comes Litoris Saxonici,Marcus Silenus Pomponius, Count of the Saxon Shore, in whose ward werethe Eastern Marches and the Fens, of whose ancient power all theresponsibilities and few of the prerogatives were left; Maximus Crispis,who owned the largest villa at the fashionable Aquae Solis, and boastedhis own private and complete system of mineral baths; and fifty otherswith names as great as these.

  Eudemius threw himself into the arrangements with an energy which madelight of all obstacles. And of these there were many, since inevitablythe disordered state of the country reacted on private concerns. Fromall the ends of the earth treasures were brought at his command.Swift-winged vessels, manned by tireless rowers whose one law of lifewas speed, came laden with rich stuffs and gems from the East; cups anddishes of virgin gold, crusted with uncut jewels; statuettes of Bacchus,the god of feasts, crowned with grapes of purple amethyst and leaves ofemerald; of Fortuna, with the horn of Amalthea; of Hymen thetorch-bearer, god of marriage; cups of figured and embossed glass,inscribed with sentiments such as "Bibe feliciter!" or "Ex hoc amicibibunt,"--all intended to be bestowed upon the guests as souvenirsduring the feasts at which they were to be used. Lustrous silks camefrom far-away Serica; cloth of gold from Persian looms; glassware,fragile as tinted bubbles, from the great works near Lucrinum; spicesand perfumes from Arabia, aloe, myrrh, and spikenard. To all that heowned he added tenfold more. Sometimes his ships were lost at sea;sometimes plundered by bands of pirates at his very doors. Then amessenger would be sent speeding by night and day to the agent from whomthat ship had come, to return in a time incredibly short with anidentical cargo--if by any means this could be duplicated. In this wayhe more than once sunk what was in truth a fortune without a denarius ofprofit in return. He wished to have tigers and lions brought fromAfrica, that his guests might hunt royal game, and spent many thousandaurei before he discovered that the cold invariably killed those of theanimals which had survived the voyage. So he gave up that idea andstocked his parks and forests with wild boar,--the prime favorite forbig game hunting,--with wolves, and lordly stags, and the wary, wild_bos longifrons_, which afforded as good sport as might be wished.

  Each day goods arrived, and messengers came with some rare thing broughtby hand half across the world; each day bales and boxes were opened inrooms set apart for them; and each day Eudemius called his daughter andput into her careless hands some costly trifle which men had sweated andstriven like overworked beasts of burden to lay before her.

  When Varia's last month of maidenhood was nearly gone, Eudemius calledHito to him, to give account of what was in his hands. In the house wereso many services of gold and silver, so many of Samian ware fromAretium, costly enough for an emperor's table; in the cellars, so manyamphorae of Falernian wine and wines from Cyprus, so many ollae of ale andbeer. In the servants' quarters were so many slaves of the field and ofthe household, male and female; so many trained to trades, so manydancing boys, musicians, and dancing girls. There were so many coloniand casarii, who owned Eudemius as patronus and paid house and land rentyearly in money, produce, or service, who belonged to the estate andmight not be sold without it. Of the slaves those who had died wereaccounted for; those who had been resold, or exchanged, ormanumitted,--all save two.

  "These, lord," said Hito, without a change of face, "are two of whom Ihad it in mind to speak these many months ago. But when all things wereto be prepared, there was no time. This woman, Eldris, did attemptescape; for what reason is not known. I gave command to pursue her. Thiswas done. But when the men found her, she was dead; it is to be thoughtof cold and hunger. So she was put away. Let not my lord think that hisservant was neglectful; we recaptured her, but she was dead. This one,Nicanor, was committed to the dungeons by order of our lord Marius; itis now nearly eight months ago. And for what reason is not known either.He is there still, since no further command hath been received regardinghim. He was taken with a madness, and well-nigh killed my lord's slave.I would have put him to the rack, but my lord Marius said nay, that hewas to be held until wanted. This was done." Lies and truth mingled onhis tongue like oil and honey.

  Marius, sitting at Eudemius's elbow, looked up.

  "I remember the fellow," he said, searching his memory. "I meant tobring him to thy notice, that thou shouldst deal with him, and as Ilive, I forgot him. He it was who sought Lady Varia in her garden andwas found by Marcus, whom you killed because he would not betray. But itappears, from what I could learn of Varia since then, that the man didno harm--was rather a poor fool telling crazy tales to which shelistened as a child. It was a whim of Varia's, nothing more. And Nerissadoth swear that always she was within sight and hearing of thetwo,--though whether she says this to free her own skirts from blame, Iknow not,--and that all which was said and done was with her knowledge,for the humoring of her lady. So that the fellow hath done no actualwrong, it would seem."

  From the high pinnacle of his power he could afford to beindiff
erent--and he and Eudemius had weightier matters than a slave'sfate to settle.

  "Hath he the privilege of trial?" Eudemius asked. "In what degree is heslave?"

  "Absolute!" said Hito, promptly. "Neither colonus nor casarius nor theson of such is he, nor even _esne_, whose trade might win himprivileges."

  "Then send him to the mines," said Eudemius, with indifference. "If hehath done nothing, he cannot die, but his presumption deservespunishment, and this he shall have,"--and was deep in fresh papersbefore Hito had left the room.

  Hito summoned Wardo, upon whom of late days his favor had unexpectedlydescended, and laid on him his commands.

  "Friend, there be a dozen and odd slaves marked for punishment, who areto be sent to the mines within the week. And among them is one blackbrute Nicanor; he goeth first of all. Thus our lord commands. Thou shaltgo with them, with two men or three to aid thee, to receive their tallyfrom the superintendent of the mines. Make arrangements so soon as maybe, for I would be well rid of them. And if any seek escape by flight ormutiny--well, there is no need to be over easy with them. They will notbe missed."

  But for one reason and another it was full two weeks before Wardo couldget his people together; and by that time the festivities had begun,with the first of the arriving guests.

  First to come was Marcus Pomponius, Count of the Saxon Shore, with hiswife Gratia, a woman whose beauty was famed throughout the island. Hewas a stately man, of the type which had made Rome what she would neverbe again,--mistress of the world. His face was pale, and high-bred, andgraven deep with the chisel-lines of thought; his hair was hoary, asilver crown; his eyes, under black contrasting brows, were quick, keen,indomitable, as in his long-dead days of youth.

  Eudemius received his guests at the threshold of his house, attiredroyally, with a torques of gold about his neck and the great signet ringof his house upon his thumb. Gracious and commanding, he made hisfriends welcome with a courtly ease which no brooding years of solitudecould rust. Beside him were Livinius and Marius; and to all who cameEudemius presented Marius as "my son."

  So shortly after the first guests came others, alone, or with theirwives and daughters, until the great house was crowded full with busylife. The stately halls, warmed, perfumed with exotic plants, resoundedwith talk grave and gay, with songs and merriment and laughter.Musicians played on lyre and cithara, reed and tambour; there began anendless round of feasting, hunting, games, and sports. From the women'sside of the house came floating breaths of perfume, suppressed laughter,a subtle emanation of aristocratic and luxurious femininity. And Varia,the pivotal point on which all hinged, the least considered of all ofthe household, was given neither peace nor solitude. From day till darkwomen fluttered around her, examining robes, jewels, head-dresses,shoes, with question and comment. She must try on this and try on that;she must be petted and caressed like a pampered plaything, and all withsignificant glances of pity and concern.

  Varia was very quiet these days. Childlike, she hid from Marius;childlike, sulked when he found her. Childlike, also, she hung inraptures over the gifts which were showered upon her, nor ever dreamedthat they were the price with which she was bought. She hung aloof,shyly, from the invasion of her home; in her eyes a child's longing tojoin the merrymaking, mingled with all its dread of a rebuff.

  Marius, for his part, bore his honors easily. That he was popular amongthe guests went without saying. He hunted with the men and talked ofstate and war; he parried the agile thrusts of the women with laughingskill; he made persistent love to Varia.

  Nerissa, the old nurse who had brought up Varia from her forsakenchildhood, going in to her charge to instruct her formally in the dutiesof wife and mother which lay before her, looked in at the door, smiledto herself, and went away. Half a dozen young beauties had takenpossession before her, with chatter and laughter--slender Roman girls,of the haughtiest blood in Britain. Julia danced on the marble floor, inand out among the slender columns, in jewelled sandals of Varia's, herskirts held high; Nigidia and Valencia, between them, examined a peplusof white silk soft enough to be drawn through the hand, and woven withthreads of gold. Gratia, named for her mother, and daughter of CountPomponius of the Saxon Shore, sat on the couch beside Varia, slowlywaving a new fan of peacock's feathers set in a handle of chased gold.Paula and Virginia were turning over an ivory casket of trinkets at atable near by. Varia sat with empty hands, watching and listening. Forthe first time in her darkened life she was knowing the companionshipof her own age and kind, very shy, but longing greatly to be friendly,to talk and laugh as did these radiant others.

  "Tell us, Varia, what thy lover hath given thee?" Paula called gaylyacross the room. Julia, ceasing her dancing, put off the sandals,slipped on her own, and came to sit by Varia, on the other side.

  "Ay, tell us!" she cried, and slipped an arm around Varia's neck,girlwise. Varia flushed, half with pleasure at the embrace, half withconfusion.

  "Many things, but I will have none of them," she answered.

  "Now but thou art a strange girl!" cried Paula. "Here thou hast a lover,on fire with love for thee, as all the world may see, and thou wiltavail thyself nothing of him. By the girdle of Venus! Had I such a loverpursuing me, I'd lead him such a dance that when I did yield he'd swearthere was no goddess in heaven like me, and the beckon of my fingerwould be his command."

  "Thou, Paula!" Gratia scoffed, and shook the peacock fan at her. "Thouwho hast more lovers than fingers on thy hands--"

  "Ay, but truly none quite like Varia's here. Whom can you name sostrong, so masterful, so--well, so all that a girl would have? Varia, Iam jealous! Why chose he thee instead of me?"

  "That were easy to tell," Nigidia murmured over the end of the peplusshe held. But Varia did not hear.

  "I would that he had!" she said seriously, so that Gratia hugged her ina gale of laughter. "I do not wish to be pursued, as you say."

  "Now did ever woman wish that before!" cried Julia. "Even though we actperforce as though we did not. But I will say, cara, that thou hastsucceeded very well with him. For it needs practice to treat a man withicy disdain when all the while thou art secretly longing that he will bebold and dare thy displeasure. When a girl knows how to tell a man thathe must not, but he may if he will, her education is complete."

  "I do not understand," Varia said slowly, and flushed again. "I am verystupid; but--may, if he will, do what?"

  "Nay, never put such fancies in this innocent's head!" cried Gratia, ina protest only half serious. "She will learn soon enough without thyteaching."

  Nigidia left the ivory casket and came and sat on a footstool at Varia'sfeet, looking up at her with black eyes alight with raillery.

  "Tell us, cara," she said, "dost love him very much, this so masterfullover of thine?"

  "Nay," said Varia, in all seriousness. "I love him not at all."

  At once they fluttered around her, exchanging glances.

  "Why, how may that be? Tell us of it! How did he woo thee? What did hesay and do?"

  Varia, laughing because they laughed, considered a moment, her head onone side.

  "As thou sayest, he is strong and very masterful," she said. "How did hewoo me? Why, as ever a man wooes a maid, I suppose."

  "You suppose?" said Nigidia, sweetly, with a glance at the others. "Doyou not know? Has none sought you in marriage before?"

  Varia shook her head. She knew not how to parry their curiosity; they,seeing this, were the more curious.

  "No," she confessed, low-voiced.

  They looked at her and at each other with round eyes of wonder in whichlaughter lurked.

  "Thy husband thy first lover!" Nigidia exclaimed, as one incredulous."Poor little thing! Girls, is this not sad to hear? But then, poorchild, how couldst thou help it, shut away in here where thou canst seenever a man at all?"

  "Oh, I have seen a man!" Varia cried eagerly. "It is not quite so badwith me as that! A man like unto no other man in the world, I think!"Her face flushed, her eyes shone. Again a glance went round
. "He, too,is strong and masterful, but tender--ah, so tender!" She clasped herhands; her lips trembled.

  "So, it is he whom thou lovest?" said Paula.

  Again the old pained bewilderment grew in Varia's eyes.

  "I--do not know," she faltered.

  "But I do!" said Paula. "See, then, is this how it is with thee?" Sheglanced at her companions with lowered lids; they drew closer, silent."Night and day his voice, his eyes, are with thee. His name is a songwhich thy heart singeth dumbly; when it is spoken it makes thee quiverlike a harp on which a certain note is touched. At the very thought ofhim, of his words, and his caresses, thou dost flush and tremble asthough his hands had touched thee. (Girls, see the color burn!) A dearand tender pain is at thy heart; thou livest in dreams, and artpossessed by aching unrest which yet is sweet. Is it not even thus withthee?"

  "Ay," said Varia, very low. "It is even thus."

  "Then thou dost love this man," said Paula. Her tone was final,admitting of no doubt.

  Varia, flushed from throat to brow, looked at her with shining eyes.

  "Ay, I love him--I know it now! For night and day his voice and eyes arewith me, and his name and the words he hath said are a song to me. Andnight and day I hear him calling me, from far and far away, as so manytimes he hath called me to the garden. But now--woe is me! I may notcome."

  "Get married, sweet, to him who loves thee, and then thou mayest havehim whom thou dost love," said Nigidia. "If one has courage to do as onewills, and cleverness not to be found out, may not one do as onechooses? I know that Rubria, wife of Maximus Crispus, hath two lovers,and one of them is guest in this house. Who is thy lover, dear? What hisname and station?"

  Varia hesitated. The impulse which kept her from revealing the truth wasdumb and blind, but it was there, and it saved her. She bit her lip.

  "I will not tell!" she said in distress.

  "We promise not to take him from thee," said Nigidia, and laughed withthe rest.

  "He sure must be the highest in the land, to win thy love," chimed inPaula, ready to carry on the game. "Perhaps it is Fabian, the friend ofMarius, who hath the eyes of a god. Or perhaps it is old Aulus Plautus,of Gobannium. He is a widower these twenty years, and hath no teeth andbut one eye--but his jewels sparkle enough for the other."

  But Varia's face changed, and her eyes grew dark and hunted.

  "Now you do make sport of me!" she cried. "What have I done that yeshould bait me thus?" Before any girl could answer she faced them in amist of quick, angry tears. "I am glad that my father's guests may bethus easily amused!"

  They started upon her, in a moment all contrition, ready to embrace herand make amends; but she jumped off the couch and fled from them intoher bedchamber and closed the door.

  "We are as mean as we can be!" said Gratia, with reproach. "I think itgreat shame for us that we should not have remembered how it is withher. I am glad I was not first to start it!"

  Paula and Nigidia took fire.

  "What have we done save what we would do to any bride?" asked Paula."Who could have thought she would take it so? But she is not sodifferent from the rest of us, perhaps!"

  "Perhaps no better!" said Nigidia.

  "Then would she have thy teaching to thank for that!" Gratia flashedback. "And it is in my mind that the less she gets of it the better itwill be for her."

  When Nerissa came again, shortly, it was to find her lady alone andweeping. But this was no new thing of late. Nerissa came prepared tospeak solemnly, as was her duty; Varia turned a petulant shoulder toher.

  "Why will ye not let me be in peace?" she cried. "I do not wish towed--I am happy as I am. I will _not_ be meek and obedient, and inclinein all things unto my lord husband! I do not wish him for husband! Ihate him. And oh, Nerissa, in three days--"

  She wept afresh. Nerissa stroked her hair.

  "There, then, lady-bird, never take it so! It is right that all maidsshould wed. The lord Marius will be kind to thee; he will give theegreat affection. At least, the gods grant that he may! Thou wilt havejewels such as thou hast never dreamed of, and robes such as thou hastnever seen. Thou wilt be a very great lady, little nursling o' mine. Ayme, but it is strange! These arms were the first to cradle thee; thesehands dressed thee in the first little clothes of thy babyhood. Such_little_ clothes! Now they deck thee for thy bridal--and perhaps it maynot be so long before they have other little clothes to handle. See,child of my heart, wouldst not be glad to have a tiny son of thine own,to love and play with? Wouldst not like to feel a round little headagainst thy heart, two so tiny hands opening the gates of all happinessbefore thee? Wouldst not see two baby eyes lulled into sleep by thydrowsy crooning? Say, sweet one, wouldst thou not like this?"

  Varia raised her face slowly, starry eyes wide and very sweet with awe,young lips parting in reverent wonder.

  "Ay," she breathed, and flushed and trembled. "I should like that. Alittle son, of all mine own! But I would not have it his son, O Nerissa!I would he might be son of a man such as I have dreamed of; a man brave,and rough, and tender--ay, all these! What should I care that he had nogold--have I found it such a blessing? For he would have more thangold--that which no man could give him, and no man take away. And hisson should be like him; and the son of such a man I could love, and beproud that he was mine."

  Nerissa smiled, a tender hand on Varia's head.

  "Ay, I know, I know! Poor little one, we all have our dreams--eventhou--and we all must wake from them. If this son of thine should be asthe one who is to be his father, it will be very well. For the lordMarius is an honorable man, and strong."

  Varia made a gesture of fierce protest.

  "Bah! If he looked at me with those eyes, black and haughty, if hismouth was thin and his nose like an eagle's beak, and his hair stiff, sothat I could not run it through my fingers, I should hate him even as Ihate his father!"

  Nerissa laughed.

  "Sweet, my baby girl, it would be long or ever thou couldst seehaughtiness in the eyes of that baby of thine, or thin lips; and as forthe nose--! And I dare swear that when thou first dost look, thou wiltnot find any hair at all, much less what is stiff. Come, cheer thee, myvery dear! Believe that thy lord father knoweth what is best for thee.Thou art his own; he would never do thee wrong."

  "Now am I not so sure of that!" said Varia, and her voice changed andwas strange. "Oh, Nerissa, it is not that I would not wed! I, too, wouldknow what joy and fulness a woman's life may hold, and perhaps I am nottoo much fool to understand. But one cannot teach me from whom I shrinkwith every breath I draw. These things I cannot understand. When I wouldthink and question, there is something just beyond me, which I cannotgrasp,--" she raised a hand, groping,--"something which escapes me, andwhen I think I have it, lo! it vanishes, and I wander in the dark. BirdsI can understand, and trees, and little flowers, and clouds, andsunlight, and rippling brooks; but men and women I cannot understand;they all are strange to me, and I do not at all know why. I fear them; Iam restless and unhappy. One only in all the world have I seen who wasnot strange. Him I could understand; when he spoke, all my heart sang inanswer; it was what I longed to say and could not, and I do not at allknow why. There was that in him which was in me, and yet I am fool andhe is not, and this also I cannot understand. Will it ever be that Ishall understand, O Nerissa?"

  Nerissa sat on the couch beside her and drew her into her arms.

  "Some day, surely, my pet," she soothed. "Think of it no more--neverfret thyself with foolish fancies. Now it groweth late and is time tosleep. Thou shalt be my baby once again, for this night is the last Ishall have thee all mine own."

  She called slave women, and had them pack away the scattered silks andgauzes in the chests from which they had been taken, and make all readyfor the night. Thereafter she sent them all away, even the body-slavesand tire-women, and herself waited upon her mistress. She freed Varia'shair from the jewelled pins which held it, combed its dusky length, andbraided it in two long braids. She brought water in a great brazen jar,and
filled the sunken marble bath in the red-tiled bathroom, and bathedher lady with scented soaps and perfumes. She cradled her in her arms,wrapped in warm rugs, and rocked and crooned old slumber songs as thoughher charge had been in fact a child again.

  The lamps burned low, the room was warm and still. Varia, nestled in thearms that had been to her a mother's arms, stirred drowsily once ortwice, and each time Nerissa bent over her, and felt her feet beneaththe rugs to see that they were warm, studying with tender care the softoutline of rounded cheek, the long lashes down-dropped to hide thestarry eyes, the quiet rise and fall of breath.

  "She is but a child! She will forget!" she murmured.

  But Varia spoke, in a voice straight from the land of dreams, openingupon her eyes misty with sleep.

  "One does not forget!" she said drowsily. "One loses a thing, for a longtime, it may be, but some shadow of that thing is always left, even to afool. Is it not so?"

  "Ay, if thou sayest," said Nerissa, as readily as she would have agreedthat pigs were butterflies if her lady had willed them so. But Varia wasasleep before she spoke.

  All through that night Nerissa held her nursling in fond, anxious armsthat knew no weariness, brooding over her as a mother with her child.

  Just as gray dawn came drifting in at the windows, the feast in thegreat house broke up, and the guests, most of them half drunken, soughttheir rooms. And just at dawn word began to pass from station tostation, and from town to town, of a city set in flames--fair Anderidain the South, as the crow flies, sixty Roman miles away. But of this,and what it portended, the villa knew nothing.

  IV

  Many things happened that day which the villa and the world came to knowtoo well. The sun was scarcely an hour high when mounted men rode to thevilla, demanding to see its lord. Of these, one was Aurelius Menotus,one of the two duumviri or governors of Anderida; and with him was hisson Felix, small and fair of skin, with weak eyes and a loose, stubbornmouth, who wore no sword and whose arm was in a sling. Slaves broughtthem to Eudemius, and he welcomed them, and they told their tale.Aurelius was a shrunken man, with a baboon face, straggling gray hair,and hands perfect as those of a god. He had ridden hard all night, andwas pasty pale with fatigue and trouble; and his staff, mostly old men,were in hardly better plight. Two of the servants with them werewounded; it was told that a third had died on the road. They were caredfor and given food and wine, and Eudemius sent for Marius to hear alsowhat they had to tell. No other guests were stirring.

  "Two nights ago men came upon us," Aurelius said, in his thin andnervous voice. "They come, men say, from Gaul, driven thence by Attilathe Hun, and seek safety among their kinsfolk who are already here. Noman can tell how the trouble first began. The first that we in thepalace knew, a soldier of the watch came and warned the guard that therewas fighting in the lower quarters of the city. For long no one couldtell what was the trouble; it was dark, and there was much confusion. Isent out milites stationarii to quell the tumult; these reported thatthe insurgents, who have given much trouble of late, had joined openlywith the barbarians; had overthrown the temple of Jupiter and slain theFlamen Dialis. Two hours before midnight, that night, the public bathswere blown up in their own steam, and fire broke out in various parts ofthe city. The barbarians, inflamed with wine and the example of theinsurgents, began to plunder. Thou knowest my forces have been steadilydiminished these last three years, and together the barbarians and theinsurgents outnumbered the Augustans five to one. My colleague inoffice, Titus Honius the Abulcian, going out to pacify the people, wasslain. I and my companions fled just before daybreak yesterday. Manypeople have taken to the forest. The city is now a very hell ofdrunkenness, rapine, fire, and smoke. And this, it seems to me, is butthe beginning. Those barbarians who have long been settled here, uponthe Eastern Shore, and those who still keep coming, will togetheroutnumber us, insurgents and Augustans both. It is in my mind to proposethat we, the lords of the cities, send again to AEtius, proconsul inGaul, for help, even as we did two years ago."

  "I fear that is what it must come to," said Eudemius, thoughtfully. Heturned to Marius. "Think you that AEtius can spare us a legion again?"

  Marius shrugged his shoulders.

  "It is hard to say," he answered. "I think it likely that he will, if hebe not himself too hard pressed."

  "Marcus Pomponius and Quintus Fabius are here, with many others of thelords," said Eudemius. "We celebrate this day the betrothal feast of mydaughter and Marius here,--" he laid a hand on the young tribune'sshoulder,--"and in three days the marriage. If you will stay, we maytalk of this together."

  "I feel scarce in humor for marriage feasts and gaiety," said Aurelius."My people are dead, my city falling to ashes. But I will stay at leastlong enough to discuss what plans we may think of for relief. If aughtis to be done it should be done quickly."

  "Rest now," Eudemius said, "and to-night, if you will, join us at thefeasting." He clapped his hands, and when slaves came, ordered that hisnew guests be taken to rooms and baths prepared for them. They wentaway, a weary and dejected set of men. Eudemius and Marius paced thegallery together.

  "If AEtius cannot send help--" said Eudemius, following his own train ofthought.

  "Have you arms in the house and slaves who can use them?" said Marius,following his. "Anderida is but sixty miles away, and if thesebarbarians be, as Aurelius thinks, inflamed with wine and blood, theywill not stop to think whether or not they attack those who haveattacked them."

  Eudemius stopped in his stride.

  "You think--that?" he said with worried brows. "It had not occurred tome. There have been uprisings, of course, but for the most part theSaxons have been peaceful. It is the insurgents who have given mosttrouble. But you are right; no man can foresee what may happen thesedays. I will call Hito and bid him number the slaves who are capable ofbearing arms."

  Hito received his orders, and in turn called Wardo, and bade him releaseall prisoners sentenced to the mines save those suspected ofanti-Augustan sympathies. These, it was considered, would be most likelyto take sides with the barbarians, as the insurgents had done atAnderida, and it would be as well to get them out of the way. The villa,being some miles off both the Noviomagus road and the Bibracte road,might remain unmolested; the fury of barbarians and insurgents mightspend itself on the towns nearer the coast,--Regnum, Portus Magnus, andthe like. Still, their lord had decided that they must be prepared forwhatever might come to pass, and prepared they must be. Wardo saidlittle during Hito's peroration, smiled once or twice at itscommencement, and at its close expressed his willingness to obey. Hestated that he knew of but a half dozen of those sentenced to punishmentwho might be suspected of sympathy with the insurgents, and declaredthat two men would be quite sufficient to act as guard. He was givenfull permission to arrange the matter as he chose,--Hito stipulatingonly that he and his men should return as promptly as possible,--andwent off whistling softly between his teeth. That day there was muchactivity in the armory and in the slaves' quarters; and rumors flewdarkly, and men believed all that they were told.

  Toward evening, Aurelius, unable to rest for the burden of apprehensionthat was on him, begged that the lords might meet in council withoutdelay, that measures should be taken for the relief of the harassedisland. Therefore, while slaves were busy in the Hall of Columns, wherethe betrothal feast was to be held, while Varia, amid stormy tears, wasarrayed by her servants for the ceremonies, and the women guests wereabsorbed in toilet mysteries, those of the men who were governors or whowere possessed of greatest power in their own cities, were summoned tothe library of their host.

  Eudemius spoke first, gravely, with Aurelius, pale and silent, on hisright hand, and on his left Marius, thin-lipped and alert, all thesoldier in him roused. And Marius, of all the men present, was theyoungest.

  "Friends," said Eudemius, "I have gathered you here together on a matterof much moment. You all know Aurelius Menotus, governor of Anderida. Hehath a tale to tell you, which I doubt not will prove startling. Wh
en itis told, we should take counsel together, those of us who are here,without waiting for the lords and governors who for one reason andanother are not with us. With some of these we are, as you know, not ongood terms. There hath been jealousy and strife, much rivalry and moreill-feeling, between the cities. Now, if we hope to save ourselves, allthis must be forgotten. If we never agreed before, we must agree now,for a common foe threatens us, against whom nothing short of our unitedstrength will avail."

  He ceased; and Aurelius rose and faced a silent room, standing besidethe table, with nervous fingers feeling at a scroll which lay there.

  "Half a dozen young beauties had taken possession--girlsof the haughtiest blood in Britain."]

  "Friends," he began, and cleared his throat and hesitated, "I am herebefore ye, a man without a home, a governor without a city. Two nightsago Saxons landed on our coasts, among the marshes, and enteredAnderida. The details of the whole I have not yet learned; whether theyassaulted first, or were provoked by some real or fancied injury of thecitizens. However this may be, they set upon us, and slew us, and werejoined by certain of the insurgents, who, it seems, have only awaited achance to rise in open revolt against the Empire, as represented in us.United, they outnumbered those who were loyal to me by ten to one, and Iand mine, being all unprepared, were forced to flee. We fought our wayout of the city, and fled with others into the forest, leaving thebarbarians and the insurgents in possession. The temple of Jupiter isdestroyed and his priests are killed; the statues of the Emperor in theForum are wantonly shattered. One of the flamens who escaped joined ourparty as we fled, and said that those who have committed these outragesare not Goths nor Vandals, nor yet Saxons in revolt, but Romans, men ofour own blood, who should be of our religion. They it was who destroyed,and incited the barbarians to greater excesses. Now I am come to you toplead for help. We stand on the brink of great danger, and we are in noposition to help ourselves. It is to others that we must look. Where areour troops? We have none, or next to none. Daily these barbariansencroach upon us; our seas swarm with pirates, and we cannot resist."

  Marcus Pomponius, the Count of the Saxon Shore, raised his head andlooked at him.

  "You are right, but you have not told all,--not so much as the half ofit," he said. His voice was low and deep, and resonant as a trumpet."You, living here in the South, in Britannia Prima, can have no idea ofhow things are in Maxima Caesariensis, in Flavia Caesariensis, or on theEastern Shore. One month ago, Constantine, my son, came from Deva. Hesays that these provinces are no longer Roman, but Saxon, and that forthe most part without force or bloodshed. As for me and those who werebefore me, year by year we have seen our power weakening, our troopsdrawn off, cohort by cohort, until our ward of the Eastern Marches isbut an empty mockery. It is simply that, as we have retreated, Saxonshave advanced, inch by inch, until now they have gained a foothold fromwhich I believe no power that we may bring can dislodge them. They havesettled in our towns, mingled with us, married our women, obeyed ourlaws--but they are here; and they are not of us, but alien, and theywill stay. I hold that this, the beginning of the end, begantwenty-seven years ago, when Fabian Procinus, the consul, abandonedEboracum and moved to the southern provinces with his forces. We can allremember that day, I think. What happened? Saxons entered that desertedcity and established themselves there. When they became crowded, theymoved, not back to their northern fastnesses, but down to other citiesand towns of ours. And they are there still. The towns which wedestroyed, hoping thus to stay them, they rebuilt. It is true that forthe most part they have been peaceable and orderly; but it is also truethat when fresh bands have come upon us, these settled ones have sidedwith them against us. This is where blood is spilled. They may be tryingto find peace for themselves, and a land to rest in, but slowly andsurely they are either absorbing us or driving us into the sea. This iswhat we must face to-day."

  Two or three nodded, half reluctantly, as though they recognized a factlong known, and held aloof so far as might be. Pomponius glanced fromgrave face to grave face. His voice dropped a note lower. Not fornothing had he been trained to speak in the Forum before men.

  "Friends, the fault of the whole matter lieth with us, in Roman hands.If Romans lose Britain, and if Saxons win it, it will be the fault ofnone but Romans."

  A murmur went through the room, wordless, speaking more plainly thanwords. Pomponius raised his hand.

  "Have patience, I pray you, and hear me! What I shall say is, in amanner, treason against our divinity, our lord Emperor, yet before nowtruth hath been found in treason. The crux of the whole matter lieth inthe fact that we, Romans, lords paramount of Britain, have dividedourselves into two sects--religious, if you will; but when was notreligion used for State purposes, or State purposes for religion? Youcannot divide the two. We are polytheists, worshipping the ancient godsof our fathers, or we are Augustans, worshipping the divinity of ourlord Emperor. And of the two, which is the true faith hath nothing atall to do with the matter. The point lieth in the fact that there aretwo. Beset as we are by outer dangers, it needs small wit to see thatour sole hope is in unity of thought and purpose. This division, forourselves, was bad enough. It was worse when we found pitted against ustwo other religions, of two separate peoples here with whom we had todeal. One, the religion of the ancient Gaels, which we found here, andwhich was druidical and wholly abhorrent in our eyes; the other, thereligion of the Goths and Saxons, which, like our own elder faith, waspolytheistic.

  "You know that Rome's policy hath ever been to absorb, to make bone ofher bone and flesh of her flesh what she hath taken for her own. Andherein lies her true greatness. But Gaelic or British gods would neverunite with Roman gods; it was an alien creed, with no single point incommon. Gothic gods would so unite,--mark you that,--for Gothic religiondiffered from Roman only in the names of its gods and in a coarser fibrewhich with us had been refined away. What did we, therefore,--we, thatis the Romans our fathers,--for the furthering of our purposes and forthe glory which was Rome's? We took the Goths unto ourselves and gavethem our religion. We taught them that their Hesus was none but Bacchus,their Freya our Venus, their Thor our Jupiter Tonans. But could we dothis with the Gaels, who had nothing in common with us, whosemeaningless rites could have no part in the beliefs of the commonwealth?No. Did we therefore give them the privileges of citizenship, the rightto hold offices of priesthood and State, which we gave to those Gothsand Saxons who came among us peaceably? No. We made Saxons our alliesagainst alien gods, and we did wisely. They fought side by side with us,they tilled our lands, and were our equals. And so long as the old faithwas among us, all was well. For to my mind, what I shall tell you, andnothing else, is the secret of Rome's power. Armies alone can hold acaptive people for no longer than steel is bared, and Rome knew this.But her religion took up the work where her armies had left it. Beingeclectic, it embraced all gods,--although this is not to say that everyRoman worshipped all of these,--and those peoples whom she conqueredwere not ravished with violence from their creeds and forced to kneel atunlike altars. Each nation might find a parallel for its gods in Rome'spantheon, and so might be brought without shock into Rome's fold. For,take a man's gods from him, whatsoever they may be that he worships, andgive him nothing in return to which he can hold, and at once you takefrom him all that anchors him to the rationalities of life.

  "Therefore I say that so long as the old faith endured, it was well withus. But the worship of the Emperor's divinity was instituted; and it wassomething in which these people could find no parallel to their owngods. They said: 'Why should we worship one of whose powers we knownothing? Your gods, which it seems after all are our gods under newnames, are well enough. We want no other, who is no god of ours. How maythis Emperor of yours be god as well as man?' But we Romans upheld thisnew religion, with powers of government, with grants of land, with theerection of new temples, with all manner of benefices, for those whowould think as we thought. To those who would not, we said: 'Worship aswe worship, or it will be the worse for
you.' Who reaped the benefits ofthis change? We, the Augustans, who had conformed to it. Who paid thepenalty? Those who clung to the old order, and so defied us, becominginsurgent. Romans became divided even as Goths, taking part with themagainst their own people. And herein were we in grave error, for weneeded all our strength, not to fight each other, but to fight ourcommon foes. Now it is our turn to pay the penalty for this, and itshall be a heavy one.

  "The insurgents, few in number as they were, and not powerful, bribedthe Saxon chieftains, who would else have lived peaceably enough amongus, by promises of plunder if they would join with them. And thechieftains were the more readily persuaded to this, since it was arighteous thing to uphold the old gods, and if there was reward fordoing it, in the way of booty, so much the better. The Romans who setthem on were pleased; the gods were pleased; the chieftains werepleased. So here you have it, friends, the prime cause of our undoing.It is our own people, of our blood and our speech, who, rebellingagainst law and order, are stirring these Saxons against us. It is theywho have razed Augustan temples, destroyed holy relics, and slainAugustan priests--they, and not the Saxons. I say again: when Britainpasses from our hands, it will not be by Saxon means, but primarily byRoman treachery. And Saxons, profiting by our internal strife and theirown position, will reap the benefits."

  He ceased; and his words hung in the silence of the room. They looked athim, grave bearded men; and the truth of what he said was in theirfaces.

  "You speak as though we were in fault," said an old man, querulously,far down the room. "Our fathers, not we, have done these things."

  "Our fathers were Romans, and we are Romans, and their mistakes are ourheritage," said Pomponius, sternly.

  "Let us have care that we leave no such heritage to those who shall callus fathers."

  "Britain is not out of our hands yet," said Aurelius. "And it is for usto keep her there.--How?"

  Again there fell a silence. Out of it a musing voice spoke.

  "No troops in Britain; Gaul, our nearest help, beset by Huns.... ButGaul is our only hope. We must ask AEtius for a legion as we did twoyears ago."

  A shrug went around the assembly. Plainly it said: "There is no otherthing to do."

  "If we could but agree to act together in this!" said the old man. Mencalled him Paulus Atropus, and bore with his senility for sake of whathe had been. "It would seem that in this matter there can be no room forargument; we all must think alike for once. But should we not wait tohear from those of our colleagues who are absent, before we move?"

  "What need?" Aurelius asked feverishly. "As you say, they can but thinkas we do. There is nothing else to be done; and if we wait to hear fromthem, and to discuss pro and con, we shall gain nothing and lose time.It is for their safety, as well as ours."

  "I think we should wait until they can join with us," said Paulusstubbornly. The talk eddied over his head.

  "Who will go?" said Caius Valens; and men turned their eyes to Marius.He was the only man in active service there, though not the only one whohad seen it. "It needs one swift and sure."

  "Why not Marius?" Pomponius said, with a friendly glance at Marius."Once before he hath come from Gaul to our aid; he can win to AEtiusquicker than any of us; he is a soldier, and knows conditions, and whatto ask for."

  Eudemius made a gesture of protest.

  "Friends, believe that I, too, have the best interests of our country atheart," he said quickly. "But Marius, who shortly becomes my son, is theone hope of my old age. I would not call him back from what is his duty;if this mission falls to him I shall be the first to speed him. But whatneed is there for such frantic haste? There have been attacks before, assevere as this one. Also this is not the first time we have thought ofappealing for help. The need is no more imperative now than many timesbefore. Therefore, if he be chosen, I pray you a little time. To-day ishis betrothal; in three days his marriage. Until then, leave him to me!"

  Few of the lords present but knew Eudemius's story and the conditionsunder which his daughter's marriage would take place; and none who knewdid not sympathize.

  "A week would be time," said Pomponius, and one or two nodded. ButAurelius struck his clenched fist upon the table.

  "Nay!" he shouted. "I say that he should start this day! It is _my_ citythat burns!"

  "I am ready," said Marius. "You all know that I shall start this nightif you will it so. But I promise you that this delay shall harm usnothing, since I shall send ahead at once to post relays to the coast,and give command for a vessel to be in waiting at Rutupiae. As to whetherI shall be successful, that is another question. It seems to me thatAEtius will have need of all his men for himself. They are none toomany."

  "Do the best you can, and it will be all we ask," said Pomponius.

  Old Paulus, at his end of the table, leaned his face forward upon hishand.

  "Friends, this is the first time in the history of the world that Romehath withheld aid from her sons who needed it, and cast them off toshift as best they could. And I have lived to see it! I have indeedlived too long!"

  Again heads nodded, gravely and sombrely. Paulus was not alone in hisbitterness. For the first time in the history of the world men stoodaside and watched their country falling into ruins before their eyeswith a swiftness greater in proportion to its mighty length of life thanever country had fallen before; and it was a bitter sight.

  Pomponius, courtly, ever mindful of others, was first to shake off thegloom to which Paulus had given voice.

  "Friends, we must not make this a solemn betrothal feast!" he said. "Wehave agreed--the most of us--that the danger is not over pressing. Letus then set aside care while we may, for these few days, at least. Ourhost did not bring us together to see long faces. While we live, let uslive!" He turned to Marius. "For sake of thee and thy bride, friend, wewill forget as we may the clouds which threaten us. Look to it that whenshortly we call on you, we find no cause to regret it."

  "You shall find no cause," said Marius.

  That afternoon Aurelius departed with his people. He would see forhimself what damage had been wrought upon his city, and whether or notit was still in the hands of the insurgents and barbarians. He was in nohumor for betrothal feasts and merrymaking when his city was lost. Hehad come there hoping to obtain help and prompt concerted action on thepart of his colleagues. He could not get it; so he would go away again.

  But he left behind him Felix, his pale-eyed son, who was wounded andwore his arm in a sling, and for doing so gave no man his reasons.

  V

  Wardo, the tall Saxon, sword-girt and muffled in his cloak, lighted historch at the cresset which burned at the head of the passage behind thestorerooms, and started down the slimy steps leading to the dungeonlevels. Evening had fallen, fragrant with warm earth-scents and theodors of flowers; a silent night of Spring, when Earth slept andgathered strength for the new life she should bring forth.

  All that could be heard of the high feasting going on in the great housewas a haunting snatch of music drifting now and again into the night onthe soft air. Yet Wardo knew that in the Hall of Columns, with its rarefrescoes, its lights and perfumes and flowers, men and women, robed inthe splendor of their wealth and station, were drinking the health ofthe betrothed pair from cups which each had cost ten times its weight ingold; that wrestlers, brought from the arena at Uriconium, were strivingwith sweat and strain for the purse of twenty sestertii offered to thewinner; and dancing girls from far Arabia were posing to the plaintivewail of reeds and the thin tinkle of cymbals. But of all this the rearcourts knew nothing. Here was only hurrying to and fro of jaded slavesladen with amphorae of wine and oil and honey; the smell of roastingmeats, the clash of pots and kettles. Here, behind the scenes, were theropes and pulleys which set the stage that the actors might strutthrough their lordly parts; here was no relaxation and luxurious ease,but labor stern and unremitting, since always pleasure must be paid forby toil.

  But Wardo, on his special mission, was exempt from menial tasks. Hedes
cended the steps, from level to level, in a stone-bound stillness,the nails in his sandals striking at times faint sparks of light fromthe uneven flagging he trod. Near the door of Nicanor's cell he paused.

  His light, flung upon rough-hewn walls, showed down three steps thegrated doors of the wine-cellars. Away to his right, down a narrowpitch-black tunnel, were the walls of the hypocausts behind which firesroared and ravened. Through these tunnels, in Summer, the furnaces wereapproached to be repaired and cleaned.

  "If the light fall upon him too suddenly, it may blind him," said Wardo."And perhaps he sleeps. I will go softly and make sure."

  He thrust his torch into an iron socket in the wall, and went to thedoor of Nicanor's prison hole. Here he felt with stealthy hands for thesmall wicket, to be shut or opened only from the outside, built in everycell-door that a warder might hear or see what his prisoner did within.This he pushed back an inch, carefully, without noise, and bent his earto the opening.

  So he heard a voice issuing out of the eternal darkness within; a voicesteady and resonant, and sustained as though it had been speaking forsome time. Out of the darkness it reached his ears as a thingdisembodied, seeming scarcely of the earth or of human lips. In it was athrill born of the pure joy of creation; prisoned, it yet was free witha freedom whose limits were the limits of earth and sky and thought,unchained, recking not of dripping walls nor aching darkness, for thesethings were nothing.

  "Out of the East three Kings came riding, on padded camels with harnessof gold. One was lord of the kingdom of life, and one of the kingdom oflove, and one of the kingdom of death, and each one had said: 'Beholdme! I am supreme.' But they heard that there lived one mightier thanthey; and first they scoffed, and next they marvelled, and then theycame to see. People ran to watch them as they passed upon their journey,and called them great and mighty; and to himself each said: 'They speakof me.' Each wore about his neck a torques of gold; and in the first wasset a diamond, and in the second was set a ruby, hot as passion, and inthe third was set a pearl. Slaves walked behind them, bearing hampersfilled with gifts for that one who was mightier than they; forty andfour were the slaves that walked behind them, and the hampers werecovered with cloth of gold.

  "So came they to their journey's end at nightfall, when the weary earthwas sinking into rest; and they looked about them for a palace moresplendid than their own, fitting for that one who was mightier thanthey. But there were only the houses of the town, and stables. Theyasked of strangers where such a palace might be, and none could tellthem. Then asked they if a very great and mighty king had been there,and folk shook their heads and answered nay. There were many strangers,and all the inns were full, but there was no mighty king that they hadseen. One said: 'It may be that he goeth in disguise,' and the othersanswered: 'That may be so.' So they alighted and went into an inn; andacross the courtyard of the inn, in the stalls under the house wherecattle stood, they saw a group of people, three or four.

  "And in the centre of the group a bearded man was kneeling, and besidehim, upon clean straw, lay a Woman and her Child. The Kings stood withinthe stable, and their greatness was as a glory of light upon the place.Chains of gold they wore upon their necks, and rings upon their hands,and the crowns upon their heads were bright with jewels. They looked atthe Woman that lay upon the straw against her man's knees; and she wasfair and young and tender, and her eyes were full of joy and pain. Andone whispered to them: 'Behold, but now she hath brought a man-childinto the world, here in this place, among sweet-breathing oxen andlowing kine.' So they looked upon the Child that lay on his Mother'sarm."

  The voice stopped short, and silence reeled down upon the world oncemore. Before Wardo could move or speak it came again, changed this timeand strained, all the thrill gone out of it and only weariness left, thevoice of one again in chains.

  "Eh, thou little Christus, thou hast been brother and comrade both to mein this my loneliness! But now am I indeed fast stuck in a quagmire ofuncertainty. Wherein did lie thy power? This I must know or ever thetale can end. I have the Kings, their might and majesty, their robes,and the gifts they bring. I have thy Mother, young and fair and tender,with holy eyes. I have her man, who was not sire to thee, his care forher, his human doubt and questionings. I have the servants of the inn,the shepherds.--Thou great bully Rag, thou hast stood model more oftenthan thou knowest!--I have the cattle dozing in the stalls, the tumultand the shouting of the inn. All this I can paint so that it shall standforth quick with life; for give me a word, a thought, an action, and Ican find the tale in it. But on my life I cannot find why men shouldworship thee, thou little helpless Child. And until I can, I have nomotive for my tale; a thing eludes me which I cannot catch. What powerdidst hold over men that they should bow to thee? Wherein did lie thystrength? For men will worship only that which is stronger thanthey--and how wert thou stronger? Was it through fear?--who would fear ababe?--A child, little and ugly and very red, as I have seen babes inthe arms of slave-women in the mart at Londinium, with a crumpled mouthwet with his mother's milk--in the name of the high gods, what shouldmen see in such a thing to worship? Thus ever do I question, and until Ifind my answer the tale is not complete."

  There was a restless movement in the dark, a soft shuffle of sandalledfeet pacing up and down, endlessly up and down. The voice dropped to abroken mutter in which but a word now and then was to be caught.

  "Oh, for a ray of sun or moon to tell if it be day or night! Thedarkness beats upon mine eyelids like a thousand hammers, until my brainis sick and reeling.... Hath one ever made of this a tale before me, Iwonder? The girl did not say. Where is she now, that black-haired loveof Hito's? Is she caught and brought back like a rabbit to the kennelsof the hounds? That is quite likely, and will be no fault of mine."

  Again the voice stopped, and with it the pacing footsteps.

  "Thou here, Momus?" Nicanor said suddenly. "So then; it must be time forfood. Thou canst tell that, graybeard; if thou couldst tell whether dayor night time, I'd carve an ivory figure of thee and hold all thy kindin honor. Maybe they will forget us again, as they have forgot usbefore. If so, soon I must eat thee, friend, and this will grieve me,less for thy sake than for mine own."

  "Who hath he here?" Wardo muttered in perplexity. He placed his lips tothe slit and spoke aloud.

  "Nicanor!"

  Instant silence fell, while one might have counted ten. Then Nicanor'svoice, keen and quiet, said:

  "Who calls?"

  "I, Wardo," answered Wardo, feeling for his eight-inch-long key. "I willget my light and enter, for I have news for thee."

  He got his torch, unlocked the door, and entered, locking it behind him,for his orders were strict. The light fell upon Nicanor, sitting on thefloor, back against the wall, hands clasping his knees, and glistened inhis eyes, untamed beneath their shaggy thatch of brow. He was leanerthan ever, and his face was gaunt. He blinked uncertainly at the flareand turned his head from it.

  "I begged Hito that he let me be the one to bring thy food," said Wardo,and spoke as one in self-excuse. "But not until to-day could I win himto it. Now I have come to tell thee--" He hesitated; started again witha rush of words. "Thou art sentenced to the mines, with certain others,and I am ordered to convey thee thither."

  "So?" said Nicanor.

  "It seems to hold scant interest for thee!" said Wardo curiously, halfpiqued.

  "At this moment, little man, bread and a bone hold more of interest forme than all the mines in Britain," said Nicanor, with a laugh. "Give methese, and I'll show thee how much I have of interest."

  Wardo found himself falling into the half ironic raillery of hisprisoner's mood.

  "There should be plenty of both when this night's feasting is over. I'llsee thou hast thy share--"

  "What feasting? Is it night?" Nicanor asked.

  "True; I forgot thou couldst not know," said Wardo. "To-night is heldthe betrothal feast of our lady and the lord Marius."

  The careless figure on the floor stiffened, as it seemed, int
o stone asit sat. Nicanor turned his head, slowly, and looked up at his gaoler.The movement had in it something of the stealthiness of an animalcrouching to spring.

  "Betrothed--to-night?" he muttered. The hands about his knees tighteneduntil their muscles strained under the brown skin; but the light wasbad, and Wardo's eyes were not over keen to see what he was not lookingfor.

  "Why, yes," said Wardo. "It is held in the Hall of Columns. By thistime, without doubt, the kiss is given and taken, the pledge is passed,and our little lady by rights is in another's keeping. It wants onlythe marriage three days hence."

  Nicanor rose lithely to his feet, pressing back his mane of hair withboth hands.

  "Wardo, we two have been friends, have we not, ever since we put eachthe other to sleep with blows over the baker's black-eyed daughter?"

  Wardo looked at him.

  "Ay, that is so," he said sincerely.

  "Then I shall ask of thee a thing which will put all thy friendship tothe test," said Nicanor. His voice was rapid and tense, and Wardo beganto look at him in surprise. "Let me go free and unhindered from here fortwo hours. I give my word that when that time is over I will be at anyplace thou shalt name, to go with thee willingly thy prisoner. If aughtuntoward befall, no blame shall come to thee. It will be easily done;the stewards are busy, and I shall have care not to be seen."

  "But--body of me!--this is impossible!" Wardo cried, confounded. "I amfriend to thee, but I am my lord's gaoler, for the time, and it wouldbetray my lord for me to do this. Wherefore dost desire it? What will itavail thee--freedom for two hours?"

  "It will avail me much," Nicanor answered. "Have I ever broken faithwith thee or any man?"

  "Nay," said Wardo. "Thou wilt steal, as I have known, but thou wilt notlie, and I would have thy word as soon as another's bond. Sure never wasthere such a strange fellow--"

  "Then believe that I will not break faith now. How may our lord be theworse for it? Thou hast ever been friend to me, man; we have drunktogether and feasted together and starved together; we have foughttogether and clasped hands together. Dost remember a day of freedom wetwo spent together, in the wine-shop to which I took thee, on the islandin the fords, when we and the five drunken gladiators fought until thewatch fell upon us, and how we escaped, both battered and bloody, andleft the gladiators in their hands?"

  Wardo grinned regretfully.

  "Eh, that was a great day! I have the scars yet. We have seen good daystogether, thou and I."

  "And they are gone over now, and done with. Here we part, I to themines, thou to the arms of thy fat Hito, I wish thee joy of him!Comrade, dost remember that when we say farewell here it will not be forto-day, nor to-morrow, but for all long time to come? I to the mines,and who enters there comes not forth again."

  Wardo clenched his fists.

  "I know--I know! I'd give a finger if it had not to be!" He stood amoment, his flaxen head bent, lost in troubled thought. Quite suddenlyhe turned upon Nicanor, who, lynx-eyed, watched. "See then; I owe fealtyto my lord, but thou art my friend, and this thing I cannot do. We havestarved together and fought together, thou and I! The gods judge me, butthou art my friend! I have money--not much, but more than nothing. Takethou it--I'll leave the way open--and escape. Or, if thou wilt,overpower me on the road to Gobannium--there'll be but two men with me,and I'll see to them. Save thyself, and leave the rest to me."

  Nicanor laid his left hand on Wardo's shoulder. Their eyes were on alevel; tall men they were, both, one dark, lean, steel-muscled as agreat cat; the other fair, more fully fleshed, massive in bulk as atawny bull.

  "Leave thee to face double punishment, mine as a runaway slave, andthine as his abettor?" said Nicanor, and laughed softly. "Nay, thou art_my_ friend, and the gods judge me if I put thee in this plight. I didnot know I had such a friend in the world. Many things have I learned inthis time of darkness, and this have I also found."

  Wardo hung his head, without speech. He thrust out his hand abruptly,and Nicanor's hand closed over it. They stood a moment, in a silencewhich needed no words from either.

  "By the soul of my mother, I shall do it!" Wardo said then, huskily.

  "By the soul of my mother, thou shalt not!" said Nicanor. "When Iescape, it shall be when thou canst not be brought to task for it. Butif thou wouldst prove true friend, leave the way open for two hours.More will not help me now."

  "So be it," said Wardo. "Here is the key. When we go, let us lock thedoor behind us. Return here, then, and await me within. But, Nicanor, ifthou art not here, I shall make no search."

  "I shall be here," said Nicanor, briefly.

  Wardo took his torch; they left the cell. Nicanor locked the door,thrust the key into his belt, and without a word started up the passageinto the darkness. Two hours speed swiftly when they hold life and deathand all that lies between.

  VI

  Nicanor gained the passage behind the storerooms, at the head of whichthe cresset flared, and reached the court, meeting no one. The cool airflooded him, and he raised his head and breathed it deeply. For eightlong months his lips had panted for it. As he had foreseen, the courtwas deserted; all the household slaves were busy in this way and thatabout the feast. He cast a calculating glance upward at the crescentmoon, struggling through banking clouds.

  "Till she touches the top of the stunted lime," he muttered, and crossedthe court with his long noiseless stride.

  A distant strain of music wandered out across the night; and at all itwhispered of that which was not for him he set his teeth with asmothered groan. Past silent courts he went, avoiding the teemingkitchens, and through narrow passages and empty rooms. A slave boy witha trayful of broken meats passed him where he hung concealed in the deepshadow of one court. He made a motion forward, his hungry eyes gleaming;drew back in silence and let the boy pass on. It was many hours sincehe had tasted food, but he dared not risk betrayal.

  So he gained a certain small doorway in one of the lesser courts, a deeprecess, merely, in the wall, which led to no room. Just inside it steepsteps showed in the moonlight, leading upward. Nicanor listened a momentto make certain that all was still, and, as one sure of himself and whathe meant to do, ran up them,--past where a landing opened on the stairs,with glimpses of a pillared gallery beyond; and still up, until theflight ended in a long and bare passage. Here it was very dark, withonly the moonlight coming through narrow windows of thick and muddyglass. Nicanor looked about him as one who would know if all was as hehad left it last. A ladder lay upon the floor beneath the square of anopening in the roof. This he leaned against the wall, mounted it, andslid back the hatch, which ran in wooden grooves. The ladder creakedbeneath him as he swung his long body forward and gripped the edges ofthe opening. Until he had made sure of his hold he did not leave theladder; then swung clear, shifting his hands one by one into betterposition, and raised himself slowly, by sheer practised strength ofwrist and arm, until his head and shoulders rose above the opening. Withquick effort, then, he flung himself forward upon the roof, writhedhimself through, and stood erect.

  Around him were the roofs of the separate apartments of the villa,silvered gray where moonlight touched them. Flat and sloping and toweredwere these, and broken by the intervals of the courts, where was massedthe heavy blackness of foliage. The night air swept cool around him;above him was the high vault of heaven, cloudless now, where a youngmoon rode in the loneliness of space. To his left as he stood was thesquat dome of the Hall of Columns, with light showing through the seriesof narrow windows which encircled it. And these windows were barely fourfeet above the level of the roof from which the dome sprang.

  Nicanor started across the tiles, black against the moonlight, clawinghis way along steep and treacherous slopes and gliding along the leads,sure-footed as a cat, toward the nearest window in the dome which wouldlook down into the hall below. This he gained in safety, and found thatit had been left half open, for ventilation. He leaned over the ledge,gazing downward; and a ripple of music from hidden players rose to himab
ove a humming undercurrent of sound.

  Below him, the great hall was a riot of color. On its hundred columns ofpolished marble, veined in green and rose, light played in slidinggleams from great lamps of wrought bronze hung by chains around the domeand between the pillars, each with many lights floating in cups ofperfumed oil. The floors, of white marble, were overlaid with silkenrugs of glowing colors, with silver matting and with tawny skins ofbeasts. The walls were wide panels of mosaics set in stucco, vivid withred and blue, green and azure, picturing scenes of hunting and carousal.Perfumes burned in silver jars set on pedestals of black marble atintervals along the walls, sending forth faint spirals of smoke on theheated air. The long table, lined on either side with men and women, wasdirectly beneath the dome. Looking down upon it Nicanor saw only aconfusion of gold and silver dishes, with the ruby glow of Samian platesand cups, gleaming among strewn leaves and blossoms. The garments of theguests were as a fringe of color about the table's edge; purple,saffron, and gold, crimson, green, and white.

  At the head of the board, raised somewhat above the other seats, threefigures had risen,--one, in the centre, tall, spare, stooping somewhat,in spite of his brave attire; at his left, another as tall as he, butbroader, more compactly built, with the square shoulders of a militaryman, richly dressed also in a scarlet tunic embroidered in gold, withheavy bands of gold about his arms. And at the right of the centralfigure, the third, young and slender and all in white, with a head-dressof gold in which two poppies flamed upon either temple, and from whichlong jewelled ends hung to her knees. A veil fell behind her, over herdark hair, of Persian gauze, filmy as mist, in which threads of goldlike prisoned sunbeams were woven. Her face, upheld proudly as thoughshe scorned to give way before the eyes upon her, was white, but herlips were scarlet as the flowers she wore. A jewelled girdle fell abouther hips, but on her bare arms were neither gems nor gold. The centralfigure was speaking, but his words could not be heard. He took thegirl's hand, and laid it in the man's hand, and held them so; and thetones of the man's voice repeating after him rose to Nicanor's eyrie,although the words were lost. There followed a pause, in which the girldrooped her head, but all faces were turned toward her, and Nicanor knewthat her lips were whispering the solemn "Where thou art, Caius, theream I, Caia"; and he clenched his teeth, and for a moment the scene belowhim swam in blood-red mist.

  She was lost to him,--always he had known it, known the hopelessness ofhis passion, all the sweeter for the bitterness which was in it,--butnever until then had the knowledge so come home to him. He would haveliked to force his way in among them, these smirking, soft patricians,and tear her away from them by right of his savage strength; in his hoteyes was murder, and in his heart raging hate and a love as raging. Hecould have killed her, even; if she might not be his, he would have herno man's. His hand shot out as though in fact the knife were in it; infancy he saw himself driving it home straight and true above the heartwhose throbbing he had watched--the heart that had throbbed for himonly, the slave, out of all the world of men. He could feel his daggerbite through her white breast as he had felt the soft slice of fleshunder his blade before; he could see the blood well up around the knife,slowly at first, with a quick, hot spurt when the steel was withdrawn.So she would remain all his, and none might take her from him. Histhoughts maddened him. He groaned aloud and dropped his face in hishands on the stone ledge of the window, and the moonlight touched him, astrange figure of desperate longings, desperate bewilderment andrebellion and pain. He shook to the primal passions of love and hatethat tore him,--love for one, hate for all that had gone to make theconditions of his life what they must be; according to the measure ofhis untamed strength he suffered, in fierce revolt against the mockingFates who were stronger than he.

  A clapping of hands, sharp and crackling, roused him. He brushed thehair from his eyes, and again looked down upon them, so far below, sofar above him. The central figure had withdrawn, but the betrothedcouple, hand clasped in hand, still stood together. The table was incommotion; women pelted the two with flowers, and men were on their feetand shouting. Nicanor saw Marius bend his head and kiss Varia upon thelips. So was their covenant sealed before the law; in sight of all theworld her lord had claimed her, and she was no longer all her own.

  High in his eyrie Nicanor laughed, with a flash of his old lawlesstriumph.

  "Thy lips are not the first on hers, sir bridegroom! Her head hath lainon another breast than thine; other arms than thine have held her, O mylord! What if this also were to be known? Where then would be thytriumph?" He raised his clenched hands fiercely, sending forth his emptychallenge to the heedless stars. "Thy wife is not all thine, my lord!Her body thou mayst purchase and possess, but her soul is mine, mine,mine, for all time and all eternity! I, who waked it from its emptysleep--I, who taught it first to live and love--I am her soul's lordeven as thou art her body's master--I, the slave!"

  His voice stopped on the words, changed, and grew strained with infinitelove and longing, all its fierce triumph gone.

  "Eh, thou very sweet, we dreamed awhile, and the dream was sweeter thanever was dream before, and it is over! The wound in thy child's heartwill heal, for thy love is a child's love, and when it may grow no morewill fade and die. Yet it may be that it shall be never quite forgotten;that in after days a word, a song, the fragrance of a flower, will bringto thee dim memories of what is gone. But my love must last, to burn andsear since it may not bless me, for it is not a child's love, beloved!We had no right to happiness, thou and I. But wherefore not? And whodecreed it so? I may not have one last look from thee, one touch of thytender hands,--O little hands that have clung to mine!--and all my heartis a tomb where my love lies buried. Long months have I lain indarkness, but in my heart was light, for I dreamed of the time when Ishould come to thee. Now all is dark, and my strength hath gone from me;I am a child that cries for a stronger hand to lean on and can findnone. The dreams which I had are gone from me, and my tongue is lead. Inall the earth is none so lonely as am I!"

  Again he buried his face in his hands, crouching against the wallbeneath the window. The music rose to him like a breath from thatscarcely vanished past, playing upon him,--calloused body and sensitivetortured soul,--conjuring forth visions of dead golden hours, weavingits own poignant spell. Voices from the hall mingled with it, in talkand heedless laughter; healths were drunk and speeches made. When lifewas gay and careless, when wine was red and eyes were bright and facesfair, who would pause to give a thought to sorrow?

  Minutes dropped away, link by link, from the golden chain of Time. Allat once Nicanor raised his head, slowly, like one unwilling to meet oncemore what must be met. The loneliness of the moonlight revealed thescarring passion in his face, signs visible of the chaos of inwardtumult which tore him, of the slow forces gathering for the inevitablebattle waged somewhen, somehow, by every mortal soul. And that face,gaunt, with haunted, shadowed eyes, looked all at once strangely purgedof the heat of its lawlessness, for on it was the first presage of thefierce slow travail of spirit rending flesh.

  "What is this that I have done!" he said unsteadily. "I have boastedunworthily, ravening like a brute beast in my triumph over thee, and bymy boasting have I shamed thee, thou lily among women. Was I blind, thatI could not see that thine is the triumph, over my passion and over me?Thou art another's, O my Lady whom I love so well; and every thought Ihold of thy caresses doeth thee dishonor. For thou art pure and holy,and though it puts all worlds between us, yet I would not have theeotherhow. Yet I cannot but remember thy voice, thine eyes, thy littleclinging hands, the perfume of thy hair; they are all that is left tome--dear memories, bitter sweet! But I may not boast of them, for thyfair fame, which thou first didst teach me to honor, is thus much in myhands, and I, even the outcast and despised, have it still to guard theein this little thing. Once was I filled with base pride for that I hadmade thee love me in answer to my love; and oh, a blind, blind fool wasI, not knowing that my love for thee was then no love at all! But thou,in thy
white innocence, didst place thine hands upon mine eyes, and thescales fell from them, and I saw thee and myself, and was humbled. Nownever while I live shall thy dear name pass my lips, lest through me onebreath of evil blow upon thee. I cannot die for thee, beloved, sincethat were a fate too easy for the sport of thy high gods; I may not evenlive for thee. This is all that I can do! This is what we have done,each for the other: thy soul I wakened; thou in turn didst give to me asoul within my soul, wakening it to what it never knew before,--newdreams, new ambitions, new desires. For I saw through thee the greatworld which is thy world, wherein lieth all for which men long andstrive. One glimpse I had; and now the gates are closed, and the lightis gone, and I am thrust back into outer darkness. And it all isfinished!"

  A peal of laughter rose to him; a burst of music; a half-hundred voicesshouting _Vivas_ to Marius and his bride. He looked down once more intothe light and color of the great hall, seeing one there, only, out ofall the brilliant throng,--one fair and drooping, with scarlet poppiesframing her white face. Long and long he looked, as though he would burnher image upon his heart and mind forever, his lady whom he had lost andwho was never his. So he turned away, back into the outer darkness, andcrossed the roofs again, and the blackness of the manhole swallowed him.

  * * * * *

  Wardo, cloaked and spurred and ready for the start, opened the cell doorand thrust his torch within. The light fell upon a bowed figure sittingon the floor, motionless, with face hidden in its folded arms, andnothing showing save a crown of rough black hair.

  "Thou here?" said Wardo. "Well, I am sorry."

  Nicanor looked up. His face, white with more than its prison pallor, wasdrawn as though by bodily pain.

  "Ay," he said dully, "I am here."

  "I would thou wert not," Wardo muttered. "Come, then."

  "I have a friend here, whom I would take with me," Nicanor said, withoutrising. "Stand still, and I will call him."

  He whistled softly through his teeth, a gentle hissing, until a shadowseemed to stir from the far corner of the cell where the torchlight didnot fall. Forth into the light hobbled a great gray rat, gaunt, andscarred, and lame. At sight of Wardo it whisked back into the gloom;again Nicanor whistled; again it appeared, and again vanished. A thirdtime, emboldened, it essayed, and came to Nicanor warily, dazed in theunwonted light. Nicanor threw a bit of cloth torn from his tunic overits head, fastening it so that the beast could neither bite nor see,tied its forelegs together, and without more ado thrust it inside histunic. Wardo gaped.

  "Well, of all playmates! Will he not scratch thee?"

  "Not while the cloth is about his head," Nicanor answered. There came anodd note of pride into his voice. "Momus and I are old friends. I maimedhim; he hath bitten me. Now we understand each other. I have taught himto fight,--he is quite as intelligent as Hito,--and there is not a ratin the dungeons that can beat him. Man, you should see him fight!"

  "I'd like to!" quoth Wardo, promptly. "Maybe, at Cunetio or Corinium weshall find some trainer to try a main with thee. Now come; we havetarried long enough."

  In the slaves' court Hito was fuming over the departure of his deputyand the half dozen prisoners. As Wardo and Nicanor approached he leeredupon them balefully.

  "So, white-face!" he taunted. "Art recovered from thy madness?"

  "Ha, fair Julia, how art thou?" Nicanor greeted him imperturbably, sothat Hito cursed him. For word of Hito's dance had spread, and even hislords had laughed at him.

  "Oh, ay, I remember!" he snarled. "This is to teach thee not to call thybetters names. Were it not for thy insubordination, I should havecancelled thy sentence to the mines. It is not well to laugh at Hito! Ihave a doubt in my mind that thou wert not so mad as it seemed."

  "I have no doubt in mine that I was not so mad as thou," said Nicanor,with all cheerfulness.

  Hito glared, and Wardo mounted and made haste to get his party underway. His assistant snapped the chains on Nicanor's wrists which boundhim to his fellows, and got on his own horse. They went out through thegate, opened by a sleepy porter, and took the road.

  All through that night they plodded steadily. Once a horseman overtookthem, riding furiously; shouted something which none could catch, andwas gone in darkness. Their road led them over the downs and through theheather by the little station of Bibracte to Calleva, where four roadsjoined; and on through the level and open country around Corinium,where, to south and west, among shaded groves, they caught glimpses ofpalaces and stately homes. So, in time, they came to the scarred hillsof the great iron district of the west.

  At each station where they stopped for rest and refreshment on theirthree days' journey, Wardo was taken aside by strangers, who talkedearnestly. "The state of the country," he told his men, with his tonguein his cheek. Most of these strangers were fair-skinned Saxons, likehimself; indeed, the number of these was significant. Wardo, coming fromthe south, had to tell what he knew of recent happenings there. This wasnot much; his interlocutors, it would seem, knew more than he.Especially did they inquire to whom he belonged, and what he was doingwith his charges.

  They crossed the Sabrina in a flat-bottomed barge, and were in BritanniaSecunda, the ancient country of the Silures. Here, from Uriconium toGlevum on the Sabrina, and south to Leucarum on the Via Julia, werescattered the iron mines from which their owners drew inexhaustiblewealth. The one controlled by Eudemius lay five Roman miles west of theriver, and was reckoned one of the largest and richest in the section.In it were said to be employed over five hundred men, mostly prisonersfrom the various estates of Eudemius, and overseers.

  VII

  The gallery, pitch-black and narrow, was dotted with moving lights whichwandered here and there, each a restless will-o'-the-wisp. It was verydamp, and from somewhere came a monotonous drip of water. The tapping ofpicks sounded incessantly out of the darkness, and occasionally therewere hoarse voices raised in wanton curses or harsh commands. Shores ofheavy timbers supported the sides and roof of the tunnel, loominggrotesquely gigantic as some passing light touched them; this was thenewest of the workings, and so far the richest.

  A light and a clanking of chains drew near down the tunnel; and eightmen, chained like mules, and loaded with baskets of ore, came painfullyover the uneven ground to the chamber of the main shaft, where a secondgang waited to unload them. Each party was in charge of its ownoverseer, who carried a whip and went armed to the teeth. It was easierto use men than to lower animals into the galleries for the work;besides, the superintendent wished to save his horses.

  The shaft, through which men ascended and descended by means of longseries of ladders, opened out into a chamber, roughly circular inshape, from which the galleries branched off in all directions. It ranthrough four different levels, the top one, and the oldest, somethingover fifteen feet underground, the lowest not quite seventy. On eachlevel the ore was handled in the same way; brought to the central shaftin baskets by men, and carried to the surface by other men who spenttheir lives toiling up and down the endless ladders, with basketsstrapped upon their backs. It was primitive work, and barbarous, but itat least served the purpose of getting rid, in short order, ofinsubordinate slaves. Earth from the tunnellings was treated in likefashion; and every timber used for building up the walls was loweredfrom level to level by ropes. Accidents were many and appalling.Sometimes a huge stick slipped from its lashings and crashed downwardinto the bowels of the earth, knocking men off the ladders in its courseas though they had been flies. Sometimes a ladder gave way, hurlingscreaming wretches into eternity; sometimes men were buried in suddenfalls of earth. Also the ladder men, who necessarily went unchained,died like rats from heart trouble brought on by their constant climbing;and others were to be driven into their places.

  The overseer of the second gang watched the loading of the basketsstrapped to his men's backs, noted the time on his clepsydra, whichstood on a near-by ledge, and started the men one by one, in quicksuccession. He knew to a fraction of time how long
the trip to thesurface should take, but to make assurance more sure, each carrier, onhis return, brought a check stamped with the exact minute of arrival bythe overseer who had received the ore above. If this check showed thatmore time had been consumed than was necessary for the ascent anddescent, there was punishment swift and sure for that luckless one whohad lingered.

  The chained slaves, with their empty baskets, filed off again into thegallery from which they had come.

  The shaft chamber, the centre of its floor pierced by the black holeleading down to the next and lowest level, was lighted dimly by lampsand candles standing upon shelves which jutted from the earthen walls.From all the galleries radiating from it, files of men, staggering underweighted baskets, kept coming to be relieved of their loads by theirunchained fellow-workers. Every moment a man started up the ladder,clawing his way at top speed out of sight in the darkness of the shaft,like a grotesque, huge monkey. No lashing, no punishment, could get morethan four such round trips out of a man without a period of rest equalto at least two trips. When it came to this point, he would merely losehis hold from sheer exhaustion and fall from the ladder. And when pickedup by the crew at the bottom of the shaft, he was fit for nothing but tobe thrown like carrion into the nearest unused pit, walled in with ahalf-dozen shovelfuls of earth, and left at last to rest.

  The overseer by the shaft glanced at his water-clock, raised a reed tohis lips, and blew a shrill whistle. From level to level and fromgallery to gallery this was taken up and repeated in fainter cadences,and with it the insistent tapping of the picks ceased. One by one menbegan to hurry forth from the galleries, making for the ladders whichled to the world of air and sunlight.

  Nicanor came from one of the branching tunnels, a pick over hisshoulder, stripped to the waist and grimed with sweat and dirt, hislean chest and arms thrown out against the murky candle-light. He wasall bone and skin and muscle, hard as nails; but it was the dead,springless hardness which comes to an athlete badly overtrained, not theresilient firmness which denotes good condition. He laid his pick on theground near the entrance of the tunnel and went to the ladder. Even histread had lost something of its cat-like lightness; he walked wearily,his shoulders bowed. He gave his number to the overseer, who barelywaited to record it in his tablet, with the time he had stopped work,before starting up the ladder for his half-hour's intermission. Nicanor,suddenly alert, ran back into the tunnel, reappeared with a bag, whichhe held carefully, and started up the ladder also. But at the nextlevel, thirty feet above, he stopped, instead of keeping on to thesurface.

  In the shaft-chamber here were a dozen and odd men gathered, but thereseemed to be no overseer among them. A ring had formed about a space onthe floor under one of the lamps; men craned over the shoulders of thosein front of them. One saw Nicanor and shouted at him.

  "Well come, friend! We wait for you and that pretty pet of yours!"

  He was a short man who spoke, with arms immensely long and hairy, and aseamed face of a shortness out of all proportion to its width, as thoughcrown of head and chin had been pressed together in a vise. Of theothers, all were more or less as black as Ethiopians with grime; manywere shaven and mutilated, with lips slit or an ear gone. Some werebranded; and the backs of many were scored with the marks of floggings,some long healed, others red and raw. No fouler-mouthed crew ofdesperadoes might be found within the island; doomed here for manyoffences, they still committed the offence of living. Nicanor wasgreeted with a chorus of jests and exclamations.

  "Hurry, son, our time is not so long as thy legs."

  "Where's thy plaything? Balbus here is ready with his toy to makeribbons of that ugly beast of thine."

  "Let us see now whose boasts will stand repeating."

  "I have two asses on thee, Balbus!" one cried, and jingled two coppercoins in his horny palms. Coins were produced from rags by those luckyenough to own them; others wagered their picks or spades. One bet hissandals on Nicanor's chances against a man who was willing to lose hisshirt.

  Nicanor pushed his way into the ring, where Balbus, grasping a largeblack rat, knelt on one knee, ready to loose the strip of cloth thatbound its muzzle. Nicanor shook his gray rat out of the bag, and untiedit.

  Men had found such contests cheap as well as exciting, since rats wereover plentiful, and when pitted against their own kind would fight tothe death. This form of amusement was widespread among soldiers and thelower classes; and there were men who made a business of training ratsand selling them or matching them against all comers. These beasts werecarefully bred from approved fighting stock, and often brought sumspreposterously large.

  Balbus let go his black with a yell as Nicanor released the gray, andthe two beasts leaped at each other and closed in the middle of thering, rolling over. Men clawed over one another's shoulders to seebetter; at opposite sides of the ring the owners squatted, each urgingon his animal with hisses and clapping hands. The light from the smokinglamps and candles fell upon the crowd, throwing into relief brutalfaces, and eyes gleaming wolfishly, savagely eager for blood.

  "The black is on top, the black wins!" one cried, hot-eyed withexcitement, and leaned further and still further into the ring. Anotherpulled him back.

  "Nay, fool--the gray--look at him, holy gods! My money on the gray! See,the black bleeds--the gray hath bit him in the throat. Macte! At himagain, graybeard! Lad, a brand-new knife is thine if thou'lt win for methose sandals of Chilo's! Ah--habet!"

  The ring tossed with excitement. Bets were roared from brazen throats;those on the outskirts of the crowd fought to get a look. And in theopen centre of the tumult a furry ball rolled and bit and squealed andmade bloody sport for those who gloated over it.

  A yell, half exultation, half anger, broke from a dozen throats. Theblack rat tore himself loose and fled back toward Balbus; the gray stoodin the middle of the ring, triumphant. Both were badly mangled anddrenched with blood, but the black was craven. The followers of the grayroared their triumph. Balbus seized his rat and flung him back into thefight, almost on top of the gray, which instantly fastened on him.

  But, plainly, the black had had enough. It could be seen that he nolonger attacked; was all on the defensive, trying only to escape. Againhe broke away and crawled toward safety. The ring howled with mingledderision and delight. Balbus, cursing, his face congested with rage,again threw him back, and again the vicious gray fell upon him withteeth and claws.

  "Give thy sandals quickly, Chilo!" a voice shouted above the racket."The black is down!"

  He was, and the gray on top of him, bloodily victorious.

  "_Peractum est!_" Nicanor shouted, in the language of the arena; andsprang to his feet and caught up his bloody pet and held him high intriumph. But Balbus, his face aflame with fury, strode to where theblack rat lay still twitching, and stamped the heel of his iron-shodsandal upon its head with such force that its brains and blood werespattered.

  "It was no fair fight!" he cried, turning on those who jeered him. "Thatgray beast wrought by magic. Thou hast played a trick!" He shook hisfist in Nicanor's face, glaring.

  Nicanor backed away with a laugh. It taunted Balbus beyond endurance; helunged forward, his fists clenched. In an instant there had been battle,on which men would have bet as eagerly as on the combat ended. But therewas a sudden clamor of guards' whistles; a rush from the ladders, andoverseers fell upon the crowd with hissing lashes that left their markson backs and thighs. The ring broke up, as men fled like sheep and werewhipped back to their posts.

  Soon there was nothing heard but the endless tapping of picks, the thudof falling earth, and the voices of overseers and the foremen of thegangs. But Balbus, each time he passed with laden basket the spot whereNicanor stood tirelessly wielding his heavy pick, scowled at him blacklyand muttered oaths of vengeance. For he was of those who must be taught,by many ungentle lessons, that one must know how to lose as well as howto win.

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  THE NIGHT AND THE DAWNI
NG

  BOOK V

  -----------------------------------------------------------------------

  Book V

  THE NIGHT AND THE DAWNING

  I

  When Wardo had delivered his charges to the superintendent of the mineand received a receipt for them from him, he started back, with hisassistants, on his homeward journey. But at Bibracte, where they wouldleave the main road and turn due south toward the villa, ten Roman milesaway, he bade his men wait for him at the station until his return.Instead of striking across country for the villa, he kept along the mainroad, riding swiftly and steadily, as one who pursues a definite plan.He crossed the Tamesis at Pontes, after a night's rest, and at eveningof the next day rode through the marsh-ford at Thorney.

  Here he met with one who also was on horseback, splashed to the waistwith mud, for even the high-roads were heavy with the springtime thawingout of the frost. He was muffled in a cloak, and his spurs werebloodstained. He hailed Wardo in Latin tinged strongly with a foreignaccent.

  "Can you tell me, friend, if there be an inn in this place where softbeds and good food may be found?"

  Wardo was moved to curiosity.

  "For yourself?" he asked, spurring up to the stranger's side.

  "Nay, for my lord and his wife and daughter. I am sent ahead to findlodging for them. They are on the road to Rutupiae, to take ship forGaul, and travel by way of Londinium, where my lord hath affairs tosettle; but the women have given out and vow that they will go nofarther. So do the chickens break for cover when the hawk swoops."

  His voice was slightly contemptuous. He turned his face, covered with awiry red beard, upon Wardo. His eyes, small and light, glinted from anetwork of wrinkles under reddish brows.

  "You are no Roman," he said abruptly.

  "Why, no," said Wardo, somewhat surprised, "I am Saxon."

  "Like myself," said the stranger, grandly. "Men call me Wulf, the son ofWulf."

  "There is an inn here," said Wardo, without returning information. "Iwill show you, if you like. It is kept by Christians, and it is clean."

  "Then it will be poor," Wulf grumbled, "and the wine will not be fit fordecent men."

  "There you are wrong," said Wardo. "It is where my lord Eudemius stopswith his train when he passeth through here."

  "So!" Wulf's glance held awakening curiosity. "The lord Eudemius of thewhite villa south of Bibracte?"

  "That same," said Wardo, with the pride of a servant in a well-knownmaster.

  "One hears tales of that house these days," said Wulf, casually. "See,friend, when I have made arrangement for my lords and brought themhither, is there not a place where we might find a mouthful of goodSaxon ale?"

  Wardo hesitated.

  "I fear my time is too short," he answered. "Even now I am late--"

  "For the maid who awaits thee?" said Wulf, with a chuckle. "Well, I'llnot keep thee then. But this much I'll tell thee now. When my lord sailswith his familia from Rutupiae, it will be without Wulf, the son of Wulf.I have it in mind to stay here longer; there will be fat pickings forSaxons by and by, when these Roman lords are crowded out. Hast heardthat?"

  "Ay," said Wardo. "I have heard it."

  "And it is in my mind also to try for some of these same fat pickings,"said Wulf, and laughed. "Why not I, as well as any man?"

  "If you wait for these Roman lords to be crowded out, as you have it,"said Wardo, "it will be some time before these fat pickings fall to yourlot."

  "Perhaps not so long time as one might think," Wulf retorted. "Hastheard of what happened at Anderida?"

  "Oh, ay," said Wardo. "The lord governor of Anderida fled to the houseof my lord."

  Wulf's glance became all at once as keen as a gaze-hound which sightsits prey.

  "Had he his son, called Felix, with him, a cat-eyed rascal, who waswounded?"

  "Yes," said Wardo, quite proud to tell his news. "And on the evening ofthe feast the lord governor and his men rode away again. But he left hisson behind him."

  A gleam shot into Wulf's light eyes.

  "So?" he said pleasantly. "Perhaps, then, this son Felix is still aguest of your lord?"

  "Ay, so he is," Wardo returned. "Which is to say that he was there whenI rode away, and that is now six days ago." In his turn he shot a glanceat the red-beard from his steely eyes. "Now why should you ask thesethings, friend gossip? What concern is this son Felix of yours?"

  "Merely that all men like to know what is happening these days. Whatelse? But know you how the man got his wound? Nay, I thought not.Perhaps you know that the leader of that band of Saxons and thoseinsurgent Romans, called Evor, was slain in that affair at Anderida?"

  "No," said Wardo. "I did not know that. Who slew him?"

  "Felix," answered Wulf.

  Wardo looked somewhat startled.

  "Then this is why he remained behind!" he exclaimed. His face awoke to anew thought. "Why, death of a dog! if this Evor's men pass through theSilva Anderida and hear that this lord Felix is at the villa, there maybe trouble for my lord."

  "Ay," said Wulf. There was a certain grimness in his tone. "The son ofEvor hath sworn to have the blood of his father's slayer; therefore itis quite likely."

  "How come you to know these things?" Wardo demanded. The stranger'smanner was always casual to indifference, and Wardo was not over keen tosee what he was not looking for. His question came more from curiositythan from suspicion, although of this there was something also.

  "News travels fast these days," Wulf said briefly. "I got it from acarter who saw something of the business. I hope you do not think that Iwas there? Now where is this inn of yours? I must find it and hastenback to my lord."

  By now they had reached a cobbled street no wider than an alley, runningat right angles to the main street, which led from ford to ford. Downthis they rode abreast, and there was room for no other horseman to passthem. Bare-shouldered girls laughed down at them from upper windows;bent crones hobbled from door to door with baskets of fish or produce;children and dogs scampered from under their horses' feet. The eveningsunshine fell in long slanting shadows down the dusty street, stabbingshafts of golden light into dark doorways.

  Wardo saw Wulf to the door of the "cleanest inn on Thorney," watched himenter, and wheeled his horse. Back again then he rode, with no more thana glance for the long-haired girls who leaned to him from windows, andwith a recklessness which sent the dogs and children flying. He turnedinto the main street, back toward the marsh-ford, and galloped thelength of it until he reached a house which stood the third from theend, next to a half-burnt ruin where cattle had been stalled, with anarrow door in a blank wall which betrayed nothing.

  Before this he flung his horse back upon its haunches, leaped lightfootto the ground, and hammered on the door. The wicket was opened a spaceand closed; then the door was opened. He entered, and it closed afterhim.

  Two hours later Wulf, the son of Wulf, came down the street in the dimtwilight, on foot, walking with a swagger. Out of the saddle he was seento be short and stunted, with legs badly bowed. His breath proclaimedloudly that he had stopped at sundry wine-shops on the way. He waspassing unconcernedly, when a whinny from a horse standing before a doorcaught his ear, and he stopped.

  "Light of my eyes, I've seen this beast before," he muttered, goingcloser to look. "Why, sure, he's the horse of that long-leggedyellow-head of mine. Ay, here's the brand I noted on the shoulder.So--we shall see what we shall see."

  He knocked boldly upon the door. The wicket opened.

  "What will you?" a woman's voice asked from within.

  "A friend of mine entered here a little time ago," Wulf began glibly.

  "Many have entered here," said the voice. "Who is your friend?"

  Wulf's laugh covered a moment of embarrassment.

  "Why, in truth, I do not care to name his name aloud," he said. "If youwill let me in, I will see if he be still here."

  The door opened. Wulf stepped inside, confronting a tall girl,full-throated, long-l
imbed, with face of purest Grecian outline. Wulf'ssingle keen glance took in the girl, her attire, and the room behindher. His manner changed at once.

  "Your friend may not be here," said the girl.

  Wulf advanced.

  "In truth, I shall not miss him overmuch. Might a weary man purchasefood, and a drop of wine, and perhaps a lodging for the night?" Hejingled coins in the pouch which hung at his leathern belt.

  The girl eyed him.

  "You know that you may," she said, very wearily, and crossed the roomand opened a door into an inner chamber.

  Here the air was heavy with the smell of food and the fumes of wine.There were many people in the room,--men and women; yet in the firstglance he cast around Wulf saw his long-legged yellow-head reclining atease upon a couch, his arm around a slim golden beauty who sat besidehim. In his free hand Wardo clutched a brazen beaker, which the girlfilled constantly from a fat-sided ampulla on her knee. From time totime she stroked back the fair hair on his temples, and each time heraised his half-drunken head to kiss her shapely arm.

  Wulf nodded to one or two men in the room, his face betraying nosurprise that he found them there. He bade the dark-haired Greek girlbring wine and two cups. While she was gone a man and a woman slippedaway through one of the several side doors, leaving vacant the placenext to Wardo. At once Wulf possessed himself of it, without glancing athis neighbor. The Greek returned, and he pulled her down beside him, hadher drink with him, kissed her arms and hands with his red-beardedmouth, made love to her with jests and laughter unnecessarily loud. SoonWardo's attention was caught. He sat upright, steadying himself on thegirl's arm, and looked across at Wulf.

  "Not too drunk to talk, I hope!" Wulf muttered.

  "Holla, Wulf, son of Wulf!" Wardo called, in a voice somewhat thickenedby wine. "How didst find the way to Chloris?"

  "Who but knows the house of Chloris?" said Wulf, pleasantly. "I did notlook to find thee here."

  "I? Oh, I am always here. Is it not so, Sada? Am I not always with thee,girl of my heart?"

  "Ah, not always!" said the golden-haired girl. "Not so often as I wouldhave thee."

  "Drink with us, thou and thy lady," Wulf invited.

  The golden-haired girl leaned over.

  "Nay, Wardo, thou hast drunk enough. Already the wine is in thy head,"she murmured; and Wulf, keen-eared, caught the words.

  But Wardo was already holding out his beaker, which the Greek filled ata sign from Wulf.

  "Nay, sweet, my head is iron," said Wardo, half indulgent, half inscorn. "Here I pledge thee, friend Wulf, the son of Wulf: 'A long lifeand a rousing one, a quick death and a merry one!'" He drank deeply.

  "That is the motto of my lord master," quoth Wulf. "And light of myeyes, but he lives up to it! There is a man who spends gold as winefloweth through a _colum_."

  "Ay, but promise you my lord spends faster!" said Wardo, with greatpride.

  "So?" said Wulf. He gave the Greek a sign to keep the wine-cups filled."Then must he indeed be wealthy. In truth, I have heard something of afeast he gives at his villa even now."

  "The marriage feast of our lady Varia and the lord Marius," said Wardo.

  "Men say that the gifts are of a richness beyond all counting," saidWulf. "Of course, being there, thou couldst see it all, and judge."

  "Ay," said Wardo. "I saw it all."

  With the wine, his tongue began to wag. His eyes sparkled; he drainedhis cup and set it down with a thump. "In that house is the ransom of anemperor, ay, of forty emperors!" he cried. "No lord in the island couldgather such hoard of treasure, not even yours, Wulf the son of Wulf, andI shall fight you if you say so! No man hath seen such jewels, suchvessels of gold and silver. There be a million golden cups set aboutwith rubies; an hundred thousand vases of silver; and every woman hath afan of gold, set with gems. And the jewels he hath loaded on ourlady--man, thine eyes have never seen the like! She wears a girdle thatblazes like that pharos at Dubrae, which I have seen; she goes beltedwith flame that dazzles the eyes. On her arms are an hundredbracelets--"

  "Of a truth, I do think the wine is in thine eyes, Wardo mine," saidWulf. His laugh was careless, but his eyes were keen.

  Wardo flushed angrily.

  "Not so!" he cried. "For these six months and more have not goods beencoming to us from all the world?" He boasted vaingloriously.

  Wulf nodded.

  "I have heard that that is so. There must indeed be great store ofplunder--of wealth within thy master's house."

  "Verily!" said Wardo, somewhat appeased. He told all that he knew, andmuch that he did not know, fired with eagerness to impress upon thiscasual stranger the magnificence of the lord whom he served. From mereloquacity he became argumentative, finally quarrelsome. But Sada woundwhite arms about his neck and soothed him.

  But by now the wine was reaching Wulf's head also, although compared toWardo he was sober.

  "That house of thy lord's will be fat pickings for the men of Evor whenthey come to claim the blood of Felix for the blood which he hath shed.Light of my eyes! it would be worth--"

  "What is this thou sayest?" Wardo demanded. He strove to sit upright,but fell back against Sada in drunken laxity. "Speak louder, thou! Therebe a million bees that buzz within my head."

  Wulf waved the women away.

  "Leave us, pretty ones, awhile. Is it the first time men have left yourarms to discuss affairs?"

  Eunice, the tall Greek, went willingly, but Sada clung to her lover andwould not go.

  "Nay, I'll not leave thee. Speak as ye will--what is it to me? I have nocall to remember."

  "See, friend, I like thee, and I see no reason why we should not becomrades, for the better gain of both," said Wulf, with all frankness."We be of one nation, as against these haughty Roman lords who soon mustyield to us the field. Oh, but I long for a half-hundred kindred soulsto take with me this chance! What chance, say you?--the chance of gain,of wealth and fortune past all dreams. Why should they have all, thesehaughty lords, while we have nothing? Why should not something of theirwealth profit us?"

  Wardo shook his muddled head solemnly over this problem old as the ages.

  "They have gained it," he muttered, with an air of profound wisdom.

  "They have gained it, quotha! Ay, truly, but how? By rapine, taxation,wars, plunder! Therefore why shall not others use like means? If it befair for them, I say it is fair for us!" Wulf brought down his fist uponthe table with a blow that made the cups rattle. "Therefore now is ourchance, say I! All is confusion; the lords fight amongst themselves; weare slowly gaining the ground they lose--let us also gain wealth withit!"

  He discoursed at great length, repeating himself incessantly, losinghimself in endless trains of argument which nobody contradicted. It wasnot very clear what he wanted, even to himself, it would seem. But hewas quite convinced that existing conditions were altogether wrong andsomething should at once be done about it. What the something should behe did not take the trouble to state. Wardo dozed peacefully, his headon Sada's breast. No one in the room paid the least attention to them.

  Wardo roused, in time, reaching out blindly for his cup, and caught aword of Wulf's oration:

  "... Gold for the taking. Had I but a half hundred--"

  "Gold! That is a good thing to have!" Wardo muttered. He pulled Sada'shead down to him. "When I have gold, I shall buy thee from thy mistress.Wilt go with me?"

  The girl's fair face flushed.

  "Ay, thou knowest I will go," she answered. "Wheresoever thou wilt takeme."

  "If thou wouldst have gold, my friend, come with me, and it shall bethine in plenty," Wulf cried eagerly.

  Wardo looked at him with awakening interest.

  "How so?"

  "Thus," said Wulf. "We shall take for ourselves what should be ours byright, what is wrung from us by infamous greed. What would suffice uswould not be missed by those who have more than plenty, yet even thisthey will not give us. We must get it for ourselves."

  Wardo nodded.

 
"That will be a good thing to do. Where shall we find it?"

  "Why should we show mercy to them?" Wulf declaimed. "What mercy havethey shown us? Do they not grind us into the earth; do we not pay insweat and blood for their idle pleasures? And with all of this, havethey not sought to force us to our knees before any new god they chooseto perch upon a pedestal? I, for one, will not worship because one mansays 'Bow down!' And I do not care who knows it. I am as good as thenext man, and I will have my rights."

  Wardo, who had never heard anything like this before, was impresseddeeply.

  "I say so too," he exclaimed with great earnestness. "Let us take whatis our own. Then if thou hast rights, _I_ have rights also. And I willhave my rights!"

  "Of course! I see thou art a clever fellow, and a man after mine ownheart. Drink more wine. See, then, I will tell thee a thing. This lordof thine, who oppresses thee and vouchsafes thee no rights, who wringsfrom thee what should be thine--thou hast him in thy hand. He hathcommitted a grievous crime in giving shelter to a murderer. Does hethink that his guest will not be demanded of him by those whom thatguest hath wronged? For this does he not deserve punishment?"

  Wardo nodded, much bewildered at the rapid changes of subject he wascalled upon to follow. Gods, gold, oppression, murderers, and all atonce--and his mind was taxed with one thing at a time.

  "Then I see plainly that thou art chosen to execute justice and to claimthy full reward!" cried Wulf, in sonorous prophecy.

  "Oh, no--not on my lord!" said Wardo, firmly. "Or, look you, it would beI who should be executed." And chuckled at his cleverness in discoveringthis point.

  "You do not understand," Wulf assured him, patiently. "There is nodanger in it for you--none at all. All you will do is to answer thesequestions I shall ask you now. Tell me then, first, how many men canyour lord summon to--let us say, protect this lord Felix when hisenemies find him out?"

  "With his familia, and the coloni and casarii who own him lord, he cancall out near a thousand; though it would take time to gather all ofthese from his estates. But, my friend, how may the enemies of this lordFelix find him out when they know not where he is?"

  Again he chuckled at the point which he had made.

  "True," Wulf admitted smoothly. "I but suppose the case. For they areroaming far and wide, and if they find him not, it will not be for lackof searching."

  "Now I must tell my lord of this, that he may be prepared," Wardomuttered. He pressed his hands to his temples. "My head is buzzing withyour questions, and I am weary, for I have ridden far. Pray you, let mesleep."

  "Not yet!" Wulf said hastily, in alarm, as Wardo's head sank lower."See, friend, you are trusted in your lord's household, I doubt not. Isthere a rear door, even a very little one, of which you know where thekey is hung?"

  Wardo jerked his head upright, his eyes half closed.

  "What is this you say?" he asked angrily. "What would you witha--a--little key?"

  "Give me a key, and I will give you as much gold as you can carry onyour back," said Wulf, low and eagerly, his caution forgotten in thefever of his greed.

  Wardo opened his eyes with effort to their fullest extent and stared athim. His voice was thick and stuttering.

  "A key? to my lord's house? _Deae matres!_ What should I do that for? Iam my lord's man!"

  "You shall come to no harm!" Wulf urged desperately, fearful lest theman fall asleep before he could gain what he would. But at last Wardounderstood. He staggered off the couch, clutching at Sada's shoulder forsupport, reeling and blind with drink, and towered over Wulf.

  "Look you, sirrah!" he shouted, so that men turned to look at him insurprise, "I am no traitor to my lord! I am his man, blood and body, andhis will is my law and his faith is my faith. I have served him loyally,and so shall I continue to serve. What is this you would have me do?Turn rascal, even as you? Holy gods, I'll show you, knave and varlet--"

  Unexpectedly he stooped, and caught Wulf by the collar of his tunic.Wulf struggled, but Wardo dragged him across the floor, shook him, andflung him outside the door and slammed it. He turned to Sada, demandingher applause with drunken self-satisfaction at his prowess, dropped onthe nearest couch in abject prostration, and was instantly asleep.

  After uncounted hours he roused, to find Sada dashing cold water in hisface and calling his name in great distress. They were alone in theroom, and the sun was shining through the window.

  "What hast thou?" Wardo grumbled. "Let me sleep!"

  She shook his shoulder.

  "Hasten, Wardo, and undo the mischief thou hast done while there may yetbe time. For hours I have tried to wake thee!"

  "Harm? What harm?"

  "Thou hast told that evil man all he would know of thy lord's defences,of the treasures within his house, and of the lord called Felix who isthere. And when thou wert asleep he, being drunken also, did tellEunice, who bade him render payment for his wine, that it would not takelong to send word to these men who search for this lord Felix, and thatthen he would give her gold and jewels in plenty. Hasten, Wardo, andwarn thy lord, or it will be too late!" She wrung her hands.

  "_I_ have done this thing?" Wardo exclaimed, pointing a finger at hisown broad chest. "Nay, girl, thou'rt joking!"

  "Never that!" cried Sada, with impatience. "Thou wert drunk, I tellthee, and he got out of thee what he would. Thy lord is betrayed, andthrough thee!"

  "Betrayed!" The word stabbed through his dull sodden wits and sent himstarting from the couch, his face gray with horror. He sank back with agroan of sheer physical sickness, and tried again, his teeth set, thesweat starting on his forehead. His legs trembled under him, and hiseyes were dazed, but he got to the door and leaned against it, his handsover his face.

  "If I have done this thing thou sayest," he said hoarsely, "my life isrightly forfeit, and I shall give it into my lord's hand. I do notunderstand--I am my lord's man, and loyal." He turned to her in stunnedappeal. "Sada girl, am I drunk, that thou shouldst fill me with thismadness?"

  Her eyes filled with tears.

  "Nay," she answered sadly. "Thou art sober now."

  The fresh air aided what the shock of her words had begun. He mounted,heavily, yet in feverish desperate haste, whirled his horse about withscarcely a word of farewell to her, and struck the heavy spurs deep. Thebeast sprang forward, with a shower of sparks from the cobbles.

  Sada, returning from the door, ran into the arms of a thin slip of agirl, white-faced and with burning eyes, who caught her and crieddesperately:

  "What said he of Nicanor? What have they done to him? Does he livestill?"

  "Peace, child!" said Sada. "Now he hath thought for nothing but thisthing which he hath done, and I with him. But last night he did tell methat this friend of his, thy lover, hath been sent to the mines, andthat he had been of the guard."

  "And I not to know!" cried Eldris, bitterly. "He might have told me howhe looked and what he said; and now he hath gone, and I may not askhim--"

  "Ay, and I think that I shall never see him more. For surely his lordwill slay him when he knows what he hath done," said Sada.

  Suddenly she put her head on Eldris's shoulder and wept; and Eldris, byway of showing sympathy, having love sorrows of her own, put her armsabout her and wept also.

  II

  The lord Eudemius laid himself upon his couch of ebon and carved ivorywith the air of a man whose work has been well done. Midnight was longgone, the great house was quiet, and the desire of his heart stood forthin fulfilment. He had a son; his dying house was propped with freshstrength and vigor, and the gods of the shades might claim him when theywould. One week ago had the marriage been celebrated. Each night sincethere had been feasts, with at every feast new dishes contrived, newsports and entertainments offered, new souvenirs of price distributed,to provide the jaded senses of his guests with fresh gratification. Nowthe festivities were nearly over; already some of the lords had gone.Among them was Count Pomponius, with his Wardens of the Eastern Marches,for it was reported that Saxons were again
harrying and burning alongthe coast.

  In the mellow light of the bronze lamps the face of Eudemius showedsofter, less inscrutable, with eyes more kindly. On it was greatweariness, but also a great content. He put forth a hand and touched thebell on the stand beside his couch. The strain under which he hadlabored was lifting; he could afford to relax. The silvery tinkle ofsound had scarcely fallen into the quiet of the room when Mycon, chiefof the eunuchs, entered, parting the curtains, with his arms crossedbefore his face.

  "Bid Cyrrus bring hither his lyre," said Eudemius.

  Many and many a day had gone since their dark lord had given suchcommand; the cries and groans of his slaves had been music enough forhim. Mycon bowed in silence and went. Before five minutes had fled, wordof the miracle had gone from end to end of the ranks of those whose dutyit was to watch the house by night; and weary men and women smiled andblessed their little lady, who perhaps had bought for them the dawn of ahappier day.

  Cyrrus the musician entered, a slender Greek boy; and the low light wascaught by the silver frame of the lyre he bore, and rippled on itsstrings. He put himself where he should not be too much under his lord'seyes, and played; and as though the instinct of his art had taught himwhat to do, the music he played was plaintive and low and soothing.Eudemius lay with arms behind his head and stared at the painted ceilingwhere naked nereids sported. By slow degrees, still more his hard facesoftened; under the spell of the music and of his thoughts his thin lipsparted to a smile. Slow and soft the melody rippled into the quiet room,singing of placid waters smiling in the sun, with lilies floating ontheir bosom, of young fleecy clouds and tender shadows. Again itchanged, with dropping notes like tears, and whispered of the yearninghopes of men, of world pain and heart's peace, of longings unfulfilledand prayers unanswered. Two tears, the slow and difficult tears of age,stole down Eudemius's gray furrowed cheeks and lost themselves in hissilken pillow.

  "My child!" he whispered. "My little, little child!"

  In that moment the pathetic unloved beauty of her came nearer totouching him than ever before. He forgot that he had sold her intobondage; forgot that her happiness might not lie along the road of his.She had done what he would have her do; she had been a dutiful daughter,and at the last he rejoiced in her.

  Varia, at that hour, sat alone in her chamber, awaiting the coming ofher lord. There were traces of tears upon her cheeks; her lids droopedwith weariness and sleep. They had taken away her robes of state, inwhich she had sat by Marius's side through interminable hours ofmerrymaking, when a thousand eyes had stared at her from a swimming seaof lights, and she had shrunk and trembled beneath their glances. Theyhad put upon her a thin robe of Seres silk of rose, with no ornament orjewel upon it. With bare neck and arms, and warm white throat bendingwith the drooping flower of her head, she looked more than ever a child.To all that they had done to her throughout the endless days offestival, she had submitted docilely, dazed, if she could have told it,by the excitement of those around her. Faces, scenes, events, had passedbefore her in a blurred confusion, in which she could neither think norsee clearly. She had repeated words of whose meaning she had noknowledge; she had drunk wine and only been distressed that a drop hadfallen upon her royal robe; she had broken a cake of bread and onlywondered why her little black slave was not there to gather up thecrumbs. Of her lord she had seen little, save upon one fearful night ofwhich the memory still sent burning shudders through her frightenedheart. She drifted upon a gray sea of loneliness, torn from her oldshelters, given nothing to which she might turn and cling.

  She got up from the chair covered with rugs of white fur, in which shehad been nestling like a great rose, and went to the window which lookedupon the garden, all her movements restless, like some shy creaturecaged. Now the garden lay deserted, desolate in the mistiness of themoonlight. She held her arms out to it in vague yearning.

  "I would I were out there now!" she cried softly. "Where the treeswhisper and the lake sleeps, and none but may hear the music of onevoice. He is gone--he is gone from me, and I know not where they havetaken him. And I long for him; I would I could creep into his arms andrest upon his breast forever, for then I should not be frightened. Now Iam left alone--I know not where to turn for very fear--my head itburneth and my hands are cold. And I fear to be alone--and the night isdark--so dark!"

  A gust of wind rose slowly through the trees, like the flapping ofunseen wings, and Varia shivered. The moon was now and again obscuredunder vast driving clouds; through the gloom trees massed themselvesinto blots of sinister shadow. When the wind's voice died, the earthhung silent, in suspense, so that Varia held her breath in sheerunconscious attunement to it. In the garden she saw a black shape flyingwith quick darting swoops. She knew it for a bat, but her eyes dilatedwith nervous fright. It was so very still--in all the world there wasno sound at all. She glanced fearfully over her shoulder. Even thelighted room was not reassuring; it also held the same waiting stillnesswhich she dared not break by so much as a sigh. Only the flame from theperfumed lamps flickered wanly in the draught. Her wide eyes fixedthemselves upon the window, striving to pierce the mystery of the darkwithout; she yielded helplessly to the sway of the vast unnamed forcesaround her, a child frightened in the night. She sank upon the floor bythe window, hiding her face.

  "Nerissa!" she called in a small and shaken voice, and wept, morefrightened at the little cry drowned in the tense stillness. Never hadshe been so alone in her life; never so frightened. She clung to thewindow, crouched as small as possible, not daring to look up.

  And across the night a sound grew out of the void and came to her, andher face blanched, and she caught at her throat with shaking hands.Faint, elusive, coming from very far away, to be felt rather than heard,it was now like the distant trampling of the feet of many men, now likethe rush of water over stones, now like the whisper of the wind intrees, scarcely a thing apart from the silence which enfolded andengulfed it. It was a voice from nowhere, warning her straining sensesof unknown and sinister things to come.

  "Why, sweetheart, art hiding from me?" a voice said almost at her ear,and Varia, taken unawares and startled out of all control, screamedaloud and shrank lower into her corner, sobbing violently.

  Marius stooped over her and took her hands away from her face.

  "What is wrong?" he demanded. "Why these tears, little wife?"

  "It was so dark!" Varia wailed. "And there was no sound at all, and thenthere was a sound--"

  She wept again, her fresh terrors submerging even her fear of him.

  Marius picked her up in his arms, carried her to the couch, and laid herthere, and a moment she clung to his hand desperately. He was somethinghuman to hold to; so she would have clung to Nerissa, or even to Mycon.

  "Afraid of the dark!" Marius scoffed gently. "Well, I am here now, andthere is nothing shall harm thee. Of a truth, I did begin to think thefeast would never have an end. The more I burned to be done with it andcome to thee, the more the minutes dragged. I pictured thee, awaiting mehere in thy secret bower; thy flushing face and the veiling shadow ofthy hair, thy denying hands and averted glances--and thy father's guestsmight well have thought me a love-sick fool, thinking of nothing but hissecret hope that his mistress might prove kind."

  Varia sat upright on the couch and put her feet upon the floor, and hiseyes followed the gracious outlines of her form beneath its drapery ofrose. She pushed her hair back from her eyes and looked at him. Slowcrimson spread from throat to brow; her glance wavered and fell. Quitesuddenly she put both hands to her face, hiding her eyes from his, andturned her face away. It was a gesture of a child, infinitely touching,all-betraying in its pure artlessness. He started toward her, his darkeyes keen; and she sat quite still, passive to this fate of hers fromwhich flight no longer might avail her. But with the touch of his handupon her shoulder there came a soft insistent knocking at the door.

  Marius smothered a curse and strode to open it. Mycon stood upon thethreshold, and in the lamplight his face showed gray.
He stammered likeone caught in guilt.

  "Lord, thy pardon! There is trouble without, and the master sends to askmy lord's presence. We be encompassed by barbarians who have crept uponus."

  "Tell thy lord I come," said Marius. Varia was forgotten; scarcely hadthe slave vanished down the corridor when Marius was after him, leavinghis bride alone.

  Now in the villa were to be heard the first sounds of people arousedfrom sleep to find themselves in the midst of unknown dangers. Voices,frightened and impatient, echoed back and forth along the corridors;lights gleamed across the courts. Men and women, half dressed, began toappear, questioning feverishly, delivering themselves of theories to anywho would listen.

  "They say that if he will surrender Felix they will depart at once inpeace."

  "How came they to know that he was here? Who told them?"

  "He will not surrender Felix--"

  "If he does not--holy gods!--we shall all be slain and plundered."

  And above all, a woman's voice:

  "I will not stay to be robbed! I shall leave this house at once!"

  In the great court men had gathered about Eudemius and Marius, who heldhasty consultation. Felix, pale, nursing carefully his wounded arm, wason the outskirts of the group. His face all unconsciously betrayed hisstate of mind. It was white and flaccid; and at every yelp of the houndsoutside who clamored for his life, he cringed and quivered. But he wasvery quiet, and the talk surged over his head as though he had not beenthere. Men cast glances of scorn unveiled upon him, but he was long pastcaring what they thought. He wanted his life; his eyes cravedprotection. In his face was a desperate dumb reliance on the pride andhonor of Eudemius, which would not allow him to surrender one who hadclaimed his hospitality; craven himself, he yet recognized and centredall his faith upon this stern and scornful pride which must uphold itstraditions at whatever cost.

  Several of the younger lords who had been or were then in militaryservice came forth, offering themselves, not at all averse, it wouldseem, to such variation in the entertainment. A handful of drunkenbarbarians--what were these? Upon them and upon Marius the defence ofthe villa devolved. Marius gave his orders swiftly, and one by one hislieutenants sped away. All slaves capable of bearing arms were to beequipped at once from the armory. Men were already stationed atintervals along the outer walls to guard against surprise. The houseseethed with uproar, which no efforts of discipline could quench. Womenwept and clung together, terrified each by the others' terror. Theyhuddled in bunches around the walls, catching at every man who wouldpause to speak with them. Yes, there had been a barbarian even withinthe hall, a great fellow, tall as the house, who spat fire and spokeLatin as no Roman had ever heard Latin spoken before. Ay, truly, allthe gods might witness that he had spat fire. And then he had left,taking back to his dogs of comrades their lord's refusal to yield up hisguest. So there would be an attack, and men had many other things to dothan to be stopped and chattered to by foolish women. Mingled alwayswith the lamentations of these was men's shouting, a trampling of manyfeet, a swift confusion. The lights, continually fanned by the passingof people, began to take on a lurid glare. In the wind which blew aboutthe crowded court, cressets flared horribly, with very evil-smellingsmoke. Their light fell waveringly on jewels and golden collars and richrobes, and on burnished weapons in the hands of slaves. Long since hadthe porter fled from his lodge, and his place was taken by a score ofeager defenders.

  Marius snatched a moment from the importunities of those who would knowthe precise state of their danger, and exactly how long it must bebefore they should all be slain, and ran up the stairs which led to theupper rooms. He felt his way through the darkness until he came upon awindow, very narrow and small, so high that he could overlook the restof the house and by leaning out see something of what went on in front.And at what he saw he gave an exclamation, sharp and low, and his eyesglittered like those of a warhorse which scents battle. For all belowhim were lights which glinted in and out across the night; and to histrained ears rose the stamp and snort of stallions held in check, andthe stir and rustle of many men. How many he could not tell, for themoon, fighting her way through a smother of clouds, gave scarce light tosee, and in the trees the shadows were delusive.

  A man's voice shouted; other voices took it up, until a seething bubbleof sound, hoarse and significant, eddied around the house and lostitself in distance. A stealthy stir and movement heaved itself fromamong the shadows; there was the clank of a weapon against an ironstirrup; vague forms seemed to circle more closely about the house. Thevoice shouted again and was answered by a scurry of horses' feet.

  "There be more than I had thought," Marius muttered, and turned to go."And they are not all mounted. Also I think that they will try to takethe door by storm. Well, they can try! More than two may play at thatgame!"

  In time, those without began an attempt to batter their way in, so thatMarius proclaimed them very drunk and more foolish. He said nothing ofhis suspicion that this was merely intended to mask an attack in someother quarter, and was inclined to be scornful of this untried foe. Sothat some of the old men, taking no consideration of the fact thatalthough his words were light his actions were prompt and well-planned,became timid, and the shrieks of the women redoubled at every assaultupon the door. He strove to assure them that if their besiegers didbreak in, they could get no further for the bristling hedge of swordsand spears which waited. But to this the timid ones replied with reasonthat they did not want them in at all. Various guests began to take itin their heads that this was not the entertainment they had come for;and in an access of the strange panic which is liable to plunge even themost sober crowd into blind folly, if nothing worse, collected theirvaluables and their attendants and prepared incontinently to fly fromthe house. Greatly their wrath raged when Marius refused to let themout. They muttered that the heads of upstarts were easily turned by alittle power, and they had rather be slain in the open than butcheredlike rats in their hole.

  And at this, the first hint of insubordination among his forces, Mariusbecame no longer the easy-going gallant whom most of them had known, buta being new and strange. He sprang to the mastery of the situation by,as it were, divine right, a right which was his by grace of the powerthat had trained him to face and control crises such as these. Hetreated these high-born lords and ladies as though they had been squadsof mutinous recruits; he lashed them with his glance; he no longerrequested, he ordered. His voice held a rasp which none had ever heard,and which brought them from displeased dignity to instant and abjectobedience. He spared none,--faded voluptuary, whining graybeard, norrestive youth; in an hour he had bullied and frightened them intoworking like galley-slaves, and all the house was under the irondiscipline of his camp.

  * * * * *

  In her chamber, Varia, in all her terror and loneliness, was forgotten.About her was an insistent clamor of confusion; she stood in the middleof the room, dazed and overwhelmed by it, the light flowing softly overher. Now and again a shouted order was flung across the tumult; withthis there began presently to mingle sounds from without. In thecorridor words flew by her, whose meaning she scarcely comprehended.

  "They have taken a tree to batter down the door--"

  "My lord Marius saith we are _not_ to use the boiling pitch until hegives command."

  "He was crossing the court and an arrow fell from heaven and smote him."

  "Thou liest, fool! It came in at a window!"

  And almost in her ears, so close it seemed, a masterful voice shouted:

  "Where is that fat beast Hito who hath the keys?" and was gone likesmoke.

  And Hito's name was taken up and tossed from hall to hall; she heard itnow near, now far, in the midst of the rush of hasty footsteps and thetangle of voices. A scream pierced through the clamor and hung a momentabove all other sounds; someone was wounded. She had a vision ofClaudius the physician brushing by her half-open door. As from a mist ofterror she saw the flying of his skirt and the gleam of hi
s silverbeard. The actual point of attack was too far away for her to know whatwent on. She began to draw her breath in small gasping sobs, glancingthis way and that, as one who longs to flee and dares not.

  A sound in the garden caught her ears; from where she stood she strainedher eyes to see. Only the armed man on guard behind the little narrowdoor, vine-hung, which led to the outer world. The man, though she couldnot see him for the darkness, was short and fat, and his little pig'seyes were glazed with fear. But there came other sounds; and a blackfigure heaved itself above the wall, on the outer side, against thestarlight, and tottered insecurely there. And then that armed mansquealed, and cast his weapon on the ground, and knelt; and this alsoshe could not see. Nor could she hear the words which the black figureon the wall flung down, nor what was answered, abjectly, with prayersand promises. She did not see the dark bulk slide scrambling down thewall, landing cat-like on its feet; she did not see it struggle a momentwith the kneeling man who tried to rise and flee, and thrust him forwardon his face. Again new sounds reached her out of all the uproar on theother side of the house; the grating of a key, the thud of feet upon thesward. Black figures came headlong out of the night; there was a clashof spurs on the marble steps; and one man, and another, and a third,leaped into the lighted room.

  First of them all was a short man, bowed in the legs, with a red scrubof beard and yellow eyes which gleamed at her. And those behind him weregreat and blond and bearded, with drawn daggers, and round shields ofbull's hide on their left arms. They crowded on the heels of theforemost, and stopped short, staring in the brilliant light at thepalpitating figure of rose.

  Until then Varia had shrunk and wept and trembled, a terrified child,alone, with no hand to cling to. But as the first barbarian crossed herthreshold, she faced him, a desperate, tender thing at bay. Unknown,unreckoned with, there lurked within her the strange race-instinct, bornof blood in which was no drop of craven blood, and of caste which wasgreater than that of kings. She was the product of her day and herenvironment; but she was the product also of her mighty past, of greatmen who had fought and ruled their world, and great women who had ruledwith them. It was instinct, dumb and blind, but it held her on her feet,facing them, though her eyes were frozen with terror; and she obeyed itbecause she had no sense or will to disobey.

  For one heart-beat there was no sound but the heavy panting of men'sbreath. Then a man snatched a golden cup rimmed with rubies, which stoodon a stand near the window, and thrust it into his breast. With hisfirst motion the two others started upon Varia where she stood, rose andwhite, in the middle of the chamber. Midway, the larger man pushed thesmaller red-bearded one aside; he recovered, with a vicious pass of hisknife, which the other gave aside to parry.

  "I entered first!" the red one shouted. "Hands off, thou son of swine!Said we not that I, Wulf, who brought thee hither, should have firstchoice? Call you the others; thus we shall catch them front and rear."

  "Call yourself!" said the other. He sprang forward, clutching at Varia,slipped on the polished floor, and plunged headlong at her feet. Variascreamed in terror; and as Wulf overleaped his prostrate comrade andcaught her in his arms, screamed again. Her head was crushed againstWulf's leather-clad breast, but she struggled and cried aloud as a harecries when the hounds have brought it down.

  There was a rush from the corridor outside, a long-drawn shout ofwarning and triumph, answered by yells from the garden, where more blackfigures came leaping. Wardo, grimed from head to foot, dashed into theroom at the head of his men as a crowd of invaders surged through thelong window. He lunged at Wulf with the short broad sword he carried,and the point came away red. Wulf gurgled and fell, dragging Varia withhim; and the fight closed over them both as water closes over a caststone.

  And as Life had entered the garden by that little narrow door, so Deathalso entered, bringing with it what Death must bring.

  III

  When dawn washed the first faint streak of gray across the night sky,the barbarians, beaten back and baffled, retreated to the great Woodfrom which they had come, and lurked darkly there.

  "I think we are not yet through with them," said Marius. He had seenSaxons fight before.

  With dawn, also, Eudemius sent forth a trusty slave westward to seek aidfrom the civil authorities and from his own people at the mine, thenearest point at which it might be obtained, and with the dawn was foundthe body of Hito, stabbed in the back, lying near the little garden doorwhich led to the outer world.

  Many of the guests chose to take their chances of attack, and left thevilla hurriedly while yet the day was young. Eudemius could not holdthem prisoners, and would not if he could. His own was enough to guard.But Felix did not go, and Eudemius could not order him forth. He darednot leave the villa, where he felt a measure of security; were he to doso, he knew that it would be his fate to be captured and killed beforehe could win to safety. So they shrugged their shoulders and left him.

  That day the villa, unmolested and with half its inmates gone, seemed tosink into a calm of exhaustion, which, after the night that had passed,was like the calm of death. Marius and Eudemius themselves superintendedthe cleaning up of the house, the strengthening of barricades, themuster of the slaves for what further service might be needed.

  "I trust the messengers whom I sent forth have not been waylaid,"Eudemius said.

  "Help could not come before to-morrow night," Marius answered. "It willgo hard with us if we cannot hold out that long. This time it may bethat we shall fare better; there will be no Hito to betray us."

  "I shall have him buried at the crossroads with a stake through his evilheart!" said Eudemius. "There be eleven dead awaiting burial. This weshall do to-night. And Varia, my son, how fares she?"

  "She is unhurt, but exhausted, and the old woman watches her," saidMarius. "Sleep thou also, and I shall see to setting a watch about thehouse, and that those may take rest who can be spared."

  Mycon entered, his arms before his face.

  "Lords, there be a slave, Wardo the Saxon, who insists that he hathgrave matters for thine ears. He is in very evil plight--"

  "Let him stand forth," said Eudemius.

  Wardo came, tall, grim, very dirty. A bloody rag bound his head; helimped, and one of his sandals was stained with blood. He crossed hisarms before his face, and waited.

  "Speak!" Eudemius commanded.

  And Wardo spoke, standing erect, his blue eyes on his lord's face.

  "Lord, it was not Hito who betrayed the household, as I hear men say. Itwas I. There is a little man, red like a fox, who came to a house onThorney where was I. He also is Saxon. And I, being drunken with muchwine, did boast to this one of my lord's greatness, and of the feastswhich were made within this house, and the wealth which was herein. Andwhen I was sober, after many hours, one told me of what I had done, andof how this red Saxon was gone to set his fellows upon my lord. So Irode until my horse fell with me and died, but I was too late to bringwarning to my lord. When I reached this house last night, it wassurrounded, with the door beaten down and men swarming within. So I,being Saxon, and not suspected in the dark, entered, shouting, withothers. And in my lady's chamber found I that red Wulf, who is no wolf,but a sly thieving fox, and tried to slay him. But he got away. I am mylord's man."

  "It is well that you have told me this," said Eudemius. "At sunset youshall be crucified. Go."

  Wardo crossed his arms before his face and went.

  When his work about the house was done, Marius entered softly the roomwhere Varia lay, tended by Nerissa. The old woman slipped away, andVaria held out a slim hand to him in one of her sudden and unaccountablemoods of coquetry. He kissed it gallantly.

  "How fares my lady?"

  Varia shivered.

  "I do not wish to think of it! Were it not for Wardo--"

  "Ay, that is true," said Marius, misunderstanding. "Well, by this nighthis fault will be punished. But how know you of what Wardo hath done?"

  "How?" she echoed in surprise. "Was it not my
life he saved? And what ishe to be punished for? What hath he done?"

  "Naught that in the least would interest thee," he told her.

  "He shall not be harmed," she said firmly. "He saved me from two greatmen and one little one who would have slain me, and he is not to sufferfor it."

  "Now this is something new. Dost know, sweeting, that had it not beenfor this knave Wardo, no great men nor little would have come upon thee?It was he who betrayed us, and it is right that he should suffer forit."

  Her eyes filled with tears.

  "He saved my life, and I will not have him suffer! What is to be done tohim this night?"

  He tried to put her off.

  "Never mind him, sweet one. Think of him no more."

  But she repeated stubbornly:

  "What is to be done to him this night?" She glanced at him, one of herstrange and sidelong glances. "Is he to be--crucified?"

  Marius started in spite of himself.

  "Who told thee?" he demanded.

  "None told me," she answered. She raised her hands to her temples. "Ifelt it--here. So, I say that he shall _not_ be crucified, nor harmed inany way at all. And thou must see to it!" She was like an imperiousyoung empress, commanding her meanest slave.

  "And if I will not?" said the slave, perversely.

  Her child's mouth quivered.

  "But thou wilt!" she pleaded. She laid a hand upon his bare sinewy arm,fingering the heavy golden armlet on it, and for a fleeting instantraised her eyes to his. "Thou wilt?" she repeated sweetly.

  His dark face hardened against her wiles.

  "The man hath played the traitor. He also is Saxon. Who knows but thathe may set his fellows on again? Nay, lady wife; I fear thy man mustdie."

  "Ah, no!" she begged. "It is the first request I make of thee--thou'ltnot refuse it if I ask thee?"

  "Ask it then," said Marius, his eyes on her, "in the right and properway that a wife should ask her husband."

  Rose-leaf color flushed her cheeks; she raised herself to her knees amidthe draperies of the couch, and clasped her folded hands upon herbreast, and closed her eyes, devout and meek and holy.

  "Pray thee, let Wardo go, my lord!" she said softly, and opened her eyesquickly to see how he might take it. "Is it thus thou wouldst have meask?"

  He bent his head, sudden laughter in his eyes, and kissed her pleadinglips.

  "Who could resist thee, lady mine?" he cried gayly. "Sure never didunworthy man have so fair a lawyer. Ay, child, if he saved thy life--andthy account and his do tally--he shall go free."

  Varia slipped out of his arms and clapped her hands.

  "Go then--go quickly and tell my lord father so! He will do it for thee,as thou hast done it for me. Is it not so?"

  So it came to pass that evening that the cross in the chamber of fateknew not its victim; and for this there were more reasons than a girl'stender wiles.

  For while the flame of sunset again stabbed the dusk of night, came menout from the Wood of Anderida, fifteen miles away, some on foot and someon horseback, with at their head the red Wulf, astride a great bayhorse. Wardo, from his station on the roofs, saw them from far off; sawalso that many as they had been the night before, they were now fivefoldmore, an army bent on plunder, captained by lawlessness. And still noaid had come. Wardo told Marius, and Marius went up on the roofs to see,and came back square of jaw and with moody eyes. He sought out Eudemius,where the latter was going the rounds of their makeshift defences, andsaid:

  "This red hound of hell hath come back upon us and brought his pack,five times as many as before. Thou knowest I am not one to turn tailwhen there is fighting to be done, but I can see what is to be seen. Andwe have women and children with us."

  "You think, then, that we should fly from here?" Eudemius asked withsombre eyes.

  "I think we are lucky to have the chance to attempt it," said Marius,curtly. "Were it not better to lose half rather than all? For an hour wemight stand against them, scarcely more. Thy familia numbers fivehundred souls; of these some are wounded and more are but incumbrances.If it pleaseth thee to stay, thou knowest that nothing will suit mebetter. A good fight against odds is worth risking much for. I but statethe case as I have seen it."

  "My fighting days are over," said Eudemius. "But I am not too old torun. And there are the women and the children. Be it as thou sayest,lad. This work is thy work--" he broke off to chuckle grimly--"andthou'rt a clever workman! We have chariots and horses, and I will givecommand to pack what papers and things of value I may."

  Again the villa was in uproar. Chests were strapped on sumpter mules;chariots with pawing horses stood in the main courtyard, ready to begone. Slaves ran here and there with scrolls and bundles in their arms;cooks left the meat turning on the spits; dancing girls, wrapped incloaks and clinging to their treasures, huddled together, waiting forthe start. The gates were opened, and all but certain of the stewardsand body-slaves were permitted to depart. They swarmed from the villalike ants when their hill is crushed, and spread off to the west, awayfrom the direction of the enemy. And always the slave stationed on watchcried down to those below the approach, near and ever nearer, of thatenemy; and at every cry a spasm of increased activity shuddered throughthe house. It was each one for himself, and the hindmost would surelyrue it.

  "Should we be separated in the night, let us plan to meet at one spot,"said Marius. He was strapping a bundle of food and a flask of wine tohis saddle-bow, in the hurrying confusion of the courtyard, too old acampaigner to face a march without supplies. Eudemius nodded, his armsfull of papers, which a slave was placing in a box.

  "At Londinium, then, whence I shall sail for Gaul as soon as may be. Wewill wait there, each for the other. If the barbarians sweep the countrywidely, we may not at first be able to reach there."

  "That is true," said Marius. "I have thought of that. Our best plan willbe to hold west from here, make a half circle and gain the Bibracteroad, and when the brutes are worrying the carcass here, returneastward, passing them by the road, and so reach Londinium. The godsgrant that AEtius can spare me a legion!"

  In the end they barely escaped. The slave on watch shouted warning; thestewards flung themselves on their horses and made off. Varia ran intothe court, crying for Nerissa; without ado Marius lifted her into thechariot, of which Wardo held the reins. The chariot of Eudemius, drivenby himself, was already rumbling through the gateway. There was aterrified scurry of slaves from under his horses' feet. He swung intothe road and lashed the stallions to a gallop. Close at his heels Wardofollowed, his grays leaping in the traces, with Varia, white-faced,crouched low in front of him. The hollow thunder of the wheels mingledwith the pounding of hoofs as they dashed into the oak-bordered road.Marius swung himself to his horse's back as the beast reared withexcitement, found his stirrups, and galloped hard after, his swordclapping against his greave. He did not see who followed through thegate, for as he caught up with the flying chariots, the first of thepursuers mounted the brow of the hill to the east of the house, not aquarter of a mile away.

  Some of them rode their horses into the courtyard; others took up thetrail of the fleeing Romans. But they were there for plunder; soon theygave up the chase and galloped back to strive for their share with theothers. Those slaves who had been left behind or who were overtaken onthe road were slain; as the sun went down there began in the statelyhalls an orgy which sounded to high heaven.

  So when they had eaten and drunk until they could eat and drink no more,they fought among themselves over the division of the spoils; andbetween them all they killed their leader, Wulf the red son of Wulf.Also, in their drunken frenzy, they tried to set the villa on fire. Inthe midst of this, while they swept ravening through the rooms likedevouring flame, while every court held its knot of drunken brawlers,who cursed and fought in darkness or under the flaring light ofcressets, a detachment of milites stationarii, or military police, inwhose hands was the maintenance of law and public order, rode over thewestern hills, coming hotfoot from Calleva,
thirty miles away. They fellupon the barbarians, taking them by surprise; these forgot theirquarrels and made common cause against this sudden foe. At once bloodybattle was waged beneath the stars; the pillared halls rang to the clangof weapons and the thud of armed feet. Men in armor of bronze camecrashing to the ground with their blood spreading from them darkly overthe marble floors; in the courtyards men at every moment stumbled overbodies of the dead and dying.

  And an hour before dawn there arrived from the west a body of footsoreminers, armed for the most part with picks, which it appeared they wereskilled in using in a variety of ways. These combined with thestationarii; for an hour red death swept through hall and court andchamber, to the tune of the yelling of the human wolf-pack loosed forblood. At the end of it the barbarians, harried before and behind,unable to rally, fell into panic and started to flee, laden with whatspoil they could bear away. By dawn what was left of the villa was againin Roman hands, a wreck mighty in its desolation, epitome of thesplendor that had been and the tragedy that was to come. The pendulum ofTime had started on its inevitable downward course, and where had beenpower and grandeur were but the ashes of pomp and pride.

  IV

  Now, four days after that night when Wardo had betrayed his lord in thehouse of Chloris, men coming up from the mine, at sunset when the day'swork was done, were herded by their overseers and guards into the bareopen space at the mouth of the mine. The superintendent came among them,a grizzled man, hard-faced, as became his lot, and spoke. Beside him wasa slave whom some there recognized as from the villa, travel-stained anddropping with fatigue, just arrived with letters from his lord.

  "An attack hath been made upon the house of our lord by barbarians andinsurgents," said the superintendent, glancing over the tablets he held."It was repulsed, but with loss upon both sides. The barbarians camefrom the Silva Anderida, and it is thought that they are beingreinforced by others, and will try again. My lord is hard pressed, forthe house is crowded with guests gathered for the marriage feast of ourlady. The attack hath been stubborn beyond belief; the barbarians demandthat one lord Felix, who slew their chief at Anderida, be given up tothem, and this my lord will not do. Also my lord saith that knowledge ofthe rich treasure in the house was betrayed to the barbarians by adrunken slave, and they are hot for plunder. Therefore he hath sent tome, as the nearest one to afford him help, commanding that I say to youin his name: Those of you whose crimes are not murder or againstreligion shall be returned to the house to take part in its defence, asmany as can be singled out by to-morrow's dawn. For loyal service andobedience to orders, ye shall receive the freedom of _casarii_ and yoursentence here shall be cancelled. To-night your records shall be lookedup, and to-morrow those of you whose names and numbers are called willbe sent forward as quickly as may be."

  Half a hundred voices raised a tired cheer, not so much because theirlord was in danger, as because there was prospect of release. Thenightly rations of black bread and beans were served out. Some men tooktheir portion to the huts where they slept, as beasts carry food totheir lair; but these were for the most part condemned for murders andreligious crimes and knew that they had no hope of freedom. The majoritygathered in discussion about the fires, always with alert sentrieshovering near at hand. All that night the air throbbed with expectation.

  In the first dark hours of morning the blast of a brazen trumpet broughtfive hundred men into the open, eager to know their fate. Thesuperintendent and his assistants appeared with lists of names whichthey had worked all night to complete. Men pressed close around him,eager not to lose a word; the overseers, whips in hand, mingled with thecrowd to check incipient disturbances. A score of mounted guards weredrawn up near by, waiting to escort the detail. Lanterns shone here andthere through the thin gray mist which hung over the broken land.

  Nicanor woke at the first brassy blare of the trumpet. His face was keenwith his first conscious thought; there was no doubt that he would be ofthose chosen. He made his toilet with a shake of his tunic, and wentoutside. Around him, in the semi-darkness, figures were hurrying towhere the superintendent, mounted on a keg, was calling the roll by thelight of a lantern, with his hood pulled well over his face against thekeen air of morning. His harsh voice, shouting names and numbers, roseabove the stir and rustle of excited men.

  Three rods from his hut, Nicanor was jostled violently by one whowheeled with an oath to see who had run against him.

  "Have a care, Balbus!" Nicanor said shortly. "What is thy haste? Dosthope that thou wilt be chosen, man-killer? What wouldst give to be in myplace? For I shall go, having neither religion nor blood upon my head."

  Balbus snarled at the taunt. It had been flung at him before, withvariations, until his temper was frayed to breaking-point. From Nicanorit was not to be endured; for since the day of the rat-fight encountersbetween the two had been frequent and bloody, in spite of the guards'whips. Now jealousy was added to the wrath of Balbus, and with this thedevil in him broke its chains. But after his nature, he was treacherous.He said nothing, nor gave warning that his anger was more thanskin-deep; and made as though to pass Nicanor and go his way. Nicanorwent on, laughing carelessly. But he was scarcely past when Balbuswheeled around and struck. There was the glimmer of a blade, a smotheredoath, and that was all. Nicanor turned as though to attack hisassailant, who had sprung back, staggered, pitched forward, and fell,rolling down the slight declivity. He struggled a moment to rise, andlay down again, very quiet, and the slope of ground hid him from casualobservation in the camp.

  Balbus drove his weapon into the earth to clean it, hid it in his shirt,and hurried into the crowd of miners, who, as the roll-call progressed,were being divided into two groups.

  "Nimus!" the superintendent called, and a man stepped forward and joinedthe smaller group. "Nico! Niger! Nicanor!"

  And at this Balbus pressed forward, elbowing to the superintendent'sside.

  "Master, the man Nicanor hath been fighting, it would seem, althoughwith whom I do not know. When I came by, I saw him lying dead upon theground by the huts."

  "Nonius! Ollus!" cried the overseer, and in the same breath--"When Ihave started these I will send men to bury him.--Ossian!"

  Shortly after sunrise three hundred and fifty men were started underescort to their lord's assistance, equipped as well as might be with themeans at hand.

  When Nicanor struggled back to consciousness, after unmarked hours, thenoise of the tramping of men had ceased, and again the world was dark.He tried to move, and a twinge of agony hot as flame shot through him,shocking him into full wakefulness. He sat upright, wincing with pain,and slowly felt himself all over. There was blood upon his head, wherehe had struck it against a stone in falling, but it was caked and dried.And his tunic was torn, on the left side, just behind and under theshoulder. It took him some time to reach around and find the place, forevery movement was slow torture. The cloth at this place was stiff withwhat he knew was blood. So, then, this was where the knife of Balbus hadgone home. He wondered if the wound were serious. The stars danceddizzily before his eyes, and he was faint from loss of blood. But therewas a thing he had to do, a thing which all through unconsciousness hadgiven him no rest. Across the deeps of night and of oblivion a voice wascalling, and he must follow it while he had life to stand. He got to hisfeet and stood swaying uncertainly. By sheer force of will he steadiedhimself, and turning his back on the silent settlement, started walkingacross the rough and broken country straight eastward toward the roadwhich led to his heart's desire.

  Sometimes he walked; sometimes he fell and lay staring at the high skyand the wheeling stars, waiting without sound or motion until he couldgather strength to rise. Sometimes he felt his tunic wet with freshblood, and could not get at the wound to stanch it, and did not try;sometimes iron hammers, red-hot, beat upon his temples and left himblind and reeling with pain. Always one idea possessed him; he must getto her who called him. She was in danger; he cursed the gods who hadheld him back from starting to her rescue with his mates.
Time lost--hischance gone--though he died for it, he would not let himself be beatenin this by Fate. Every ounce of the dogged sullen strength of himgathered itself to meet the demands of his stubborn will. And always,whether he walked in reason or in delirium, his course held eastward,straight as a homing pigeon for its loft.

  In time, when the sun was high, he reached the road which crossed theSabrina and led to the moor towns beyond. Here he entered the barge of awaterman about to leave the bank, and sat waiting to be ferried across,staring straight before him, with never an answer to the boatman's idletalk. The boat's nose poked into the further bank, and the boatmandemanded his fare. Nicanor looked at him with eyes glittering with feverbeneath his shaggy thatch of hair, and shook his head mutely, as at onewho spoke an unknown tongue. He got out of the boat and walked up theroad, and the man crossed his fingers in superstitious fright, muttereda prayer to the river-gods against ill luck, and let him go.

  Once started again, Nicanor walked all that day, and at nightfallreached Corinium, five and twenty miles away. Here his overwroughtstrength gave out, and he slept as the dead sleep, in the fields outsidethe town. Hours before dawn he woke, haunted by the demon of unrestwhich rode him, begged food and a cup of milk at a farmhouse by theroad, and started on again. All that day he walked, a mere machinedominated by a force which would drive it forward to the very verge ofdissolution; and in the late evening he reached Cunetio. Here he did notknow when he stopped, for he went to sleep on his feet, and woke andfound himself on his back by the roadside, with the sun at high noon.Desperate for the time he had lost, he hastened on, and in an hour cameupon one of the small stations threaded along the high-roads betweentowns which were more than ten Roman miles apart, kept as taverns by_diversores_ for the entertainment of travellers. There were folkstopping here, for outside the inn door stood horses, saddled andtethered. Nicanor selected the animal which best pleased him,--a tallroan,--mounted, and rode away without so much as a glance behind him forpursuit.

  After that his way was easier. He met people, who stared at him andsometimes asked questions which he heard himself answering. Dimly,without at all taking it in, he understood that they were vastly excitedabout something, but it was not worth while to ask questions on his ownaccount. They were mere shadows, without substance, which drifted by andwere forgotten; only he and his desire in all the world were real. So hereached Calleva, in the open country amid the heather, where he stoppedfor an hour for food and to rest his horse. On again then for fifteenmiles, and he rode through the station of Bibracte, and turned asideinto the oak-lined by-road for the last ten miles of his journey--mileswhich stretched before him as the most endless of all. Again excitementburned in his veins like fever; he kicked his horse into a gallop whichmore than once threatened life and limb. They pounded up the last slopewhich hid the villa from view, spent horse and exhausted man, and gainedthe rise. And Nicanor flung the roan back upon its haunches with a jerkwhich all but broke its jaw.

  "Holy gods!" he muttered; and then--"Holy gods! Am I mad--or do I dreamagain?"

  The sight burst upon him in all its blinding suddenness and appallinghideousness,--a smoking ruin where had been the stately mansion of hislord; blank windows grinning at him like dead, open eyes; the garden ofhis dreams desecrated, its wall shattered, lying open, naked anddespoiled, before the world. At the tinge of smoke which hovered likethe breath of death above the place, his horse flung up its head andsnorted. Nicanor lifted his arms to the high heaven which for him wasempty, and brought them slowly down before his face.

  "Oh, thou heedless god, whoever thou mayest be that hast done thisthing!" he cried into the bitterness of the desolation before him,"smite thou me also, for there is naught left for me! The stars fightagainst me; I am cursed with unending bitterness, and all that I can dois of no avail."

  The shock was as great as though he saw her whom he sought lying deadbefore him. For the first time he faltered, not knowing whither to go orwhat to do, not daring to search for what he feared to find. His horse,standing with legs spread wide and drooping head, heaved a great sob ofexhaustion from its panting flanks. Nicanor, staring ahead of him withgloomy eyes, roused, picked up his loose reins, and rode down the hill.At the yawning doorway, where no porter challenged, he swung himselffrom the saddle and went into the great central court. Here was grassuprooted, a fountain wrecked; marble walks were stained with blood andthe marks of feet; plants were torn up and broken. Through empty roomafter empty room he hurried,--to hers, his lady's, first of all. And atthe threshold of her bedchamber he stumbled over a body,--Nerissa's, theold nurse; and behind her lay Mycon, chief of the eunuchs. The room wasin confusion; chests were torn open and their contents rifled; furniturewas upset and hacked. In the bathroom near by, the marble bath, sunkenin the floor, was filled with water, and there were towels and unguentsand perfumes ready at hand. A bronze strigil lay across the threshold,where it had been dropped in someone's hasty flight.

  On from here he went, sick with fear of what might have been, and passedthrough other rooms. Here were the same signs of wanton destruction;mosaic floors cracked and defaced, statues overthrown, hangings torndown and swaying to the wind in rags. He found other bodies; Hito'shuddled in the violated garden, amid the tangle of wrecked vines andtrampled shrubbery; and those of many slaves. The storerooms had beenlooted, and broken amphorae and the remains of food showed where drunkenorgies had been held. In the Hall of Columns every article of gold orsilver had been carried off. Priceless vessels in embossed and enamelledglass lay shattered into fragments; even some of the bronze lamps weregone. Velvet covers had been stripped from the couches; the table wasdrenched in spilled wine. A bust of the Emperor which had stood on itsmarble pedestal at the end of the hall lay upon the floor, mutilatedalmost beyond recognition--work of Romans, this, of the insurgents whorefused to acknowledge the divinity of their temporal lord andsovereign.

  Nicanor stood in the doorway, the lone living figure in a greatdesolation. All his fears and uncertainties were written in his face.When had this thing happened? What had become of his lord and his lord'sguests? And his lady, what of her? Had the relief from the mine been intime, and why were there no signs of them? What had become of theinvaders, and why had all living things so completely disappeared? Andwhere were the stationarii, that they had not taken possession of theplace in the name of the law?

  He went back to those rooms which had been his lady's, torn with bitterdoubt and dread. He walked reverently among the things which had beenhers, as one who treads on holy ground, touching with his hands a chairover which was flung a rug of snowy furs, as though she had just leftit--a table covered with bottles and perfume pots. And beside the couchwhere she had lain he dropped upon his knees and hid his face in thesilken covers.

  Heavy footsteps echoed outside in the empty corridor, and Nicanorstarted to his feet, a hand on his knife. A man entered, stepping overNerissa's body, and stopped short. By his dress, his iron helmet, andshort sword, Nicanor knew him for a stationarius. This one, recoveringfrom his surprise, advanced quickly.

  "So, fellow, I've caught you red-handed!" he cried, and graspedNicanor's shoulder. Nicanor winced at the touch, but made no effort toget away.

  "There is no need of that," he said quietly. "I am my lord's man, slavein this house until a month ago." His collar of brass, with its gravenname, bore evidence to his words. "I pray you tell me of what hathhappened here, and of my lord, and his--his people."

  "That is another matter," said the stationarius, and let him go. "Ithought thee of those roving reavers who have plagued us day and night.Thou hast indeed been out of the world not to know these things. Threenights ago this happened. We were sent down from Calleva as soon as theword was brought, but when we arrived the mischief had been done. Thelords had fled; the barbarians were in possession, and wallowing in thehavoc they had wrought. We gave them battle; in the midst of it cameyour lord's men from the mines, whom also he had sent for. Thebarbarians fled with what booty they could gather. Now t
he place ispatrolled by stationarii. We have been burying bodies and saving whatproperty we might, until your lord shall give command concerning it."

  "And my lord?" Nicanor asked. "Whither hath he fled?"

  "It is said to Londinium," the soldier answered. "Thence to Rutupiae totake ship for Gaul. But of this I know not the truth. We are directed tosend in our reports to his house in Londinium; that is all that hathbeen told us."

  "Then have I no time to lose," said Nicanor.

  Forthwith he remounted and rode eastward from the villa into thedeepening dusk. He turned into the Noviomagus road which led northwardto Londinium, down which he had been brought a prisoner so long a timebefore, when first he had entered into his slaveship. And here he sawthat his lord's mansion had not been the only place to suffer.

  For he found himself in the very track of the barbarians as they hadspread out of the Silva Anderida, through a neck of which, fifteen milesahead, the road passed. An acrid smell of smoke hung heavy in thetwilight; when he reached the station of Noviomagus he found it all inflames, with dark figures which ran wildly in and out against theglare. Here he changed his exhausted horse for a riderless gray whichcame snorting with terror out of the smoke and gloom, ready to welcome amaster's hand and voice. He caught it, left the good roan by theroadside, and hastened on. He met and passed people on the road fleeingfrom burning houses and wrecked homes; in his ears were the crackle offlames and the wailing of women who mourned their dead. From smallhamlets scattered in the country, folk were seeking refuge in the largertowns. Yet when he had passed these heedless, scattered groups, he rodealmost alone.

  All through the scented night he rode, and the round yellow moon rodewith him. Strange things were happening beneath that moon; in thecrucible of destiny a new land was forming, a new order of things wasrising on the ashes of the old. Change, long germinating in hiddendepths, was in the air, blowing warm with the breath of the South; inthe earth, stirring with the first quickening of Spring; in the heartsand minds of men. And it was in Nicanor's heart as he rode fast throughthe night, fostered in his long season of darkness, unconscious, andinevitable as the changes which were taking place around him.

  Ahead of him the great road stretched white in the moonlight, a broadribbon which lost itself among hills and in the shadows of trees. In hisears was the thunder of his horse's feet, pounding insistent clamor intothe quiet of the night; the wind of the speed of his going swept coolagainst his face. The night was gray around him, a velvet moon-steepeddarkness, odorous with the fragrance of breaking earth. Far away thedeep-throated bay of a dog rose and died across the world. A bell note,thinned by distance to a faint dream-sound, stole over silent hill andvalley; peace seemed to wrap the world around as in a cloister garden.Yet not so many miles away were blazing fires, and red wounds, and theblack and bitter death of a battle lost. With every mile the sceneunrolled itself before him; off in the wide rolling country, whichstretched on either hand, lights twinkled here and yonder, wakeful eyesof watchfulness among the hills. He passed pale glimmering bogs where byday lonely herons brooded, and wide barren heaths over which the roadled straight as an arrow's flight.

  And as the miles reeled away under him his excitement began to mountwith the sweep of his horse's stride. The exultation of rapid motionmingled with the rising fever of his wound; he wished to shout aloud, tosing. Vague forms seemed to slip by him in the shadows; in every bushbeside the road he saw white faces lurking. Strange and half-formedimpressions haunted him, of bearded men passing, who sometimes spoke anunknown tongue and sometimes vanished silently as ghosts. Later, hecould not tell if he had seen them or if it had been but his fevereddreams; for always when he forced himself to rouse and look about himsanely, the road reached before him white and deserted.

  All sense of pain left him, even all consciousness of the horse that hebestrode. He seemed floating miraculously through air, and was aware ofvague surprise that he did not fall. He could not stop; an iron weightupon his shoulders crushed him to the earth, but at the same time aforce against which he could not struggle drove him on. He becamepossessed of the idea that again he was working in the mines, under theoverseer's lash; the sound of his horse's feet merged imperceptibly intothe tapping of the picks, hideously loud, and the maddening rhythm ofthe sound pounded his brain into bruised torpor. Then he knew that hewas on fire; from head to foot he burned, parched as a soul in hell.Balls of flame danced before his eyes; while he looked upon them theyturned to faces grinning from out a blood-red mist. The faces drewcloser and melted into one face, Varia's face, as he had seen it last,white, with scarlet lips and flaming poppies upon either temple.

  Then the mist in his eyes cleared suddenly, and he saw the figure belowthe face, wreathed in a floating web of moonlight through which whitelimbs gleamed, with dusky hair that streamed behind it in a cloud; sawthat it was flying from him upon a great white horse. And as it fled itlooked back at him with laughing eyes which yet were Varia's eyes; andin its hand it bore a wan pale flame which was his soul, the essence ofthe genius in him which was his life. At once he knew the figure to beLife and Love, and all that men strive for and hold most dear; and allhis being leaped to the fierce desire for conquest, and he shouted intriumph and pursued. But as fast as the good gray went, with ears laidback and neck outstretched and body flattened to its desperate headlongstride, that great white horse went faster, bearing ever just beyond hisreach the slim figure, veiled in misty moonbeams, that laughed into hiseyes yet fled from his embraces.

  He laughed aloud in answer, caught up in the whirlwind of his furiousspeed; heaven and earth held nothing but the divine frenzy of hisdesire. Fire coursed through his veins; the chase was Life itself,full-blooded, reckless, exultant and sublime, rioting gloriously withuntamed passion. He was a god, all-conquering in the fierce pride of hislusty youth and strength; Life was his, and Love was his, if he couldseize them. Now the gray's head was at the white horse's shoulder; nowhe bent forward, laughing his hot triumph into those eyes which wereVaria's eyes, his arm outstretched to grasp the mist-veiled figure thatleaned away from him, flying from him yet ready to yield in his clasp,with the pale flame wavering in one hand and a white arm raised to wardhim off. He had no eyes for the road ahead; a stride, and the prizewould be in his eager arms. Ahead was the darkness of the great wood; astride, and he was within its shadow. The moon was blotted out by thehigh blackness of trees; and in a heart-beat with its light were gone thewhite horse and the slim rider with its veil of gauze--gone like awreath of smoke or a dream which is lost in darkness. He reeled in hissaddle under the shock of it, and cried aloud in his disappointment;baffled, he thought that he had lost his quarry among the trees. Thegray thundered on, with the reins hanging loose upon its neck, throughthe damp silence of the wood, where night hung heavy, and out into theopen, where again the road gleamed white and empty beneath the moon.

  And then the moon was gone, and light went out of the world, and he knewhimself for a soul cast into outer darkness. His mind was blank; he knewnot whether he lived or died, nor did he care. He lived in a nebulousvoid of gray unconsciousness, horribly empty of all thought and allsensation.

  So he would have ridden, blindly, until his horse fell or he washalted. But through sheer exhaustion his fever burned itself out, andleft him sane once more, and clinging to his horse's neck. His strengthwas gone; he was dazed and drunken. He came to himself abruptly, like aman starting from uneasy sleep, and stared about him, not knowing evenhow far he had been carried. He was on the break of the slope leadingdown to the marsh-ford, and the lights of Thorney glinted over the waterin his eyes.

  V

  His horse stumbled, and he pulled it up with an oath. Now he was vividlyconscious, every nerve strung taut, every sense alert, as a man willsometimes oddly waken from heavy slumber. They went down the slope at alurching gallop, along the road churned into mire by the passing of manycarts, and splashed into the muddy waters of the ford. And on thefurther bank the good gray stumbled again, tried gallantly
to regain itsstride, and came crashing to the ground with a coughing groan and a longsickening stagger. But Nicanor had saved himself from a falling horsebefore. He was on his feet almost as the beast was down, reeling withsheer weakness, but recovering with dogged persistence. He left thehorse dying at the water's edge, and started running up the street whichled across the island from ford to ford, and his black shadow racedbeside him in the moonlight.

  At the low cabin next to the house of Chloris he stopped and pounded onthe door.

  "Who comes?" cried a great voice within.

  "It is I, Nicanor! Let me in!" said Nicanor, huskily, out of a throatparched and stiff, and still pounded.

  The door opened with a rasping of bolts. The bulk of Nicodemus appeared,half undressed, his single eye glinting under its furze of brow.

  "Thou, lad? In the name of the goddess mothers, what dost thou here atthis hour? Not drunk again? Ha, so! Easy!"

  Nicanor, with a hoarse and empty laugh, staggered forward even as hisspent steed had done, and Nicodemus caught him and lowered him to thefloor. He sat quite helpless, fully conscious, yet with the strength ofhis limbs gone from him for the moment utterly.

  Nicodemus shouted for Myleia. She came, unkempt and kindly; between themthe two got Nicanor to his feet and helped him to a bunk. A lodger,wakened by the noise, thrust out a tousled head, saw only a drunkenwayfarer, and went to sleep again, all undisturbed. But at this pointNicanor resisted.

  "Nay, not yet! I have first a thing to do.--Nico, hath there beentrouble of sorts on Thorney these last three days?"

  Nicodemus shook his great sides with laughter.

  "Trouble? Yea, verily! Thorney hath been hopping to a mad dance thesedays, promise you!"

  "And thou hast been dancing with the maddest," said Myleia, a hand uponhis shoulder. "What quarrel is it of thine, my big ugly bear? Some daythou'lt be brought home to me dead, or else be haled away to be sold asslave."

  "Never fear it, jewel of my heart," Nicodemus said tenderly. "Now see weto this battered one. See, here be a bruise upon his skull the bignessof a duck's egg. Get my shears, sweeting, and I'll clip this lion's maneof hair. It will lighten his head that that silver tongue of his maywag the better."

  "No, you will not!" said Nicanor. "Give me wine and let my hair alone.Man, I tell you I've no time to lose. What happened here?"

  "Out of the calm came forth a thunderbolt," said Nicodemus, watching asMyleia brought a bowl of water, with cloths and soothing herbs. Shethrust the bowl into his hands, and he stood, great and hairy andpatient, holding it for her while she cut away Nicanor's tunic, where ithad stuck fast to the wound, and washed away the clotted blood andgrime. "But not so long ago as thou hast said. Yester eve comes a cloudof dust over the hill by the marshes, and in the cloud as strange asight as man may see. Chariots, with horses smoking in the traces, lordson horseback, slaves and rabble, all flying from the gods know what. Atall man, very pale, with a mouth set like the jaws of a trap; a youngerone, to whom all turned for command and advice; a woman lovely as--er,that is to say, fair enough to please a taste not over-critical as mine,very pale, with red lips and the eyes of a little child in trouble. Theystopped here, even at this house, it being nearest, and bought food andwine, resting for a time, for the woman was as one half dead fromweariness. Then went they on once more, and took the road for Londinium.I made as much as five and twenty--"

  Nicanor raised his head, and his eyes were full of a weary triumph.

  "Nico, that pale lord is my lord, and that fair lady my lady, and I mustfollow them even across to Gaul."

  "What use?" said Nicodemus. "They will not stay their passage for thee.Tarry rather with us, and be healed. In the wink of a cat's eye I'llhave that collar from off thy throat, and no man be the wiser. We haveno son, this old woman of mine and I; stay thou and be son to us. Thylord will not miss thee, having other matters in his head. And it islong since we heard word from thee, lad."

  "I had thought the girl would have told thee," Nicanor said. "Andshe--where is she?"

  "Eh? What she?" Nicodemus asked blankly, and Myleia paused to listen.

  "A girl, Eldris by name, half a Briton, I think, who escaped from mylord's house. I told her to come hither, that thou wouldst give hershelter until I could come. Hath she not been here?"

  "Never hath such an one darkened these doors of mine," said Nicodemus,and Myleia nodded, adding quickly:

  "Nay, or I should know!"

  "She hath likely been captured and returned," Nicanor said, and let thesubject drop.

  In spite of all they could say to him, he borrowed a horse fromNicodemus, and at dawn set forth for Londinium, haggard and stubborn andridden by haunting desire which would not let him rest. And towardevening he returned, and in his face was written failure. What he toldthem gave no clew to that which all men could read in him.

  "My lord and his family sailed yester eve for Gaul. A ship was on thepoint of starting, and they were taken on board. This I learned from awaterman at the quays, who had helped to load their goods. And I knowbeyond doubt that they are gone, and that they will not returnhither.... Now I am weary and would rest."

  His voice was utterly dead, without life or spirit. Nicodemus, piercedby a glimmer of strange knowledge, laid a hand upon his shoulder. Verydearly he loved his shaggy teller of tales, even though he knew thatwhether he loved or not was small matter to his idol. His voice loweredto a husky growl of tenderness.

  "Son, is all well with thee?"

  A spasm, swift and sharp, passed over Nicanor's face, and was gone likea shadow. His eyes flinched as though a hand had touched a raw andquivering nerve.

  "Nay," he answered, very quietly. "It is not well."

  He wandered out, in time, away from their anxious questionings, acrossthe marsh-ford, and toward the gray hills which rolled away to east andwest, where the noise of the traffic could not follow. He threw himselfupon the ground and stared upward at the gray misty skies, where no blueshowed through and where black dots of birds went sailing. Here was theground of his boyhood dreams,--he knew it with a tinge ofbitterness,--dreams that had ended always under gray skies, upon thebleak hills of the uplands. Here, where the full shy heart of him hadfirst known the secret of its power in those long-gone boyhood days, hehad entered upon his heritage, thinking only of its joy, knowing nothingof its pain. And here he had returned. Then he had seen himself asoaring lark, singing out its life in pure joy and triumph in a fairworld of dreams and sunshine. Now he knew that the lark was caged,doomed to beat its wings forever against bars stronger than iron, thatthe dreams were shattered and the world was dark. His life was empty;he had lost all, a slave without a master, a singer whose song wasstilled. His face, unchanging, stared at the changeless sky; he laystolid and motionless, and aching with dumb loneliness. Out of all theworld he knew himself alone, set apart from his kind by that heritagewhich his ardent youth had thought all joy; alien, with his world notthe world of those around him, and his way the way of loneliness.

  In time, Nature had her way with him, and he slept, alone upon thehillside, in the dead slumber of exhaustion. The world thundered onaround him; the web of Life unrolled endlessly from the distaff of theSecond Fate; and he slept on, unheeding.

  VI

  In the late afternoon, when gray shadows were stealing westward over thequiet hills, came Eldris along the road toward Thorney, with an emptybasket on her arm. She looked younger, rounder, better fed; her eyeswere darkly blue and full of light, her skin as white as milk. Coming upa slight rise of ground, she saw the long figure lying against thehillside but a short distance away, and recognized it and stopped short,turning white, with a hand against her heart, all unprepared for whatshe had yearned to see. She went to him swiftly, and knelt beside him ashe slept.

  "Thank God! He hath returned--he is alive and well!" she whispered. "Ihad feared--oh, I know not what I feared! How hath he escaped? Ay me,but he is changed! There is that in his face which was not there before,and there is something gone from it. So
thin he is--sure he hath beenill."

  She hung over him in rapt absorption of tenderness; she listened to hisslow and heavy breathing; she longed to draw his rough black head intoher arms. Yet she dared scarcely touch him, since even in sleep he wasstill too much his own; rosy and shy she leaned above him, her facetransfigured. They were alone in the world, with gray empty skies abovethem and gray silent hills rolling upon either hand.

  With one finger she touched a lock of his hair, rough and matted, anddearer to her than all silken tresses; and he lay as one dead, very farfrom her. She whispered his name, but not for him to hear; at thedeepness of his slumber she became emboldened. She stroked the hair fromhis forehead with mother-tender hands; her eyes brooded over him. He washer god; out of his strength he had saved her when she was helpless, soshe murmured, ready, womanlike, to glorify; now he lay broken at herfeet, with lean lithe limbs relaxed, with lids down-dropped over thegray sombre eyes which never had looked love into her eyes, with lipsstill grim and set even in the unconsciousness of sleep. She bent herhead and with her lips touched the hair that she had smoothed. Hestirred, and she started, a guilty thing, crimsoned with shame; but hedid not wake. Her ears caught a word, as though in sleep he had felt awarm presence near him.

  "Beloved!"

  And for a name she listened hungrily, but none came. Who had found aplace in that deep stern heart of his?--so she asked herself with asmall inward twinge of an emotion new and strange. For whom had his keeneyes softened? Who had listened thralled to the silver speech which wasall his? Who had known the strength of his arms? Who had found the spellwhich would soothe his savage moods to stillness and unloose theflood-gates of his magic? Whose was the name so sacred that even insleep his lips could guard it?

  "That is what he wants," she murmured; "some one to love him, tounderstand and comfort when he is so black and bitter, and I think it iswhat he hath never found. Ah, pray God he may find that one!"

  Because she loved, it was given her to understand. And, understanding,she caught a glimpse of the tragedy of the loneliness in which thosesouls must wander whose world is not the world of everyday life and loveand death. Quick tears dimmed her eyes, of pity because she understood;and one fell warm on the quiet face at her knee.

  Nicanor opened his eyes, without moving, but Eldris saw, and satstiffened with fear, self-betrayed in her swift flush. He raised himselfon an elbow and looked at her, smiling slightly.

  "Thou?" he said, with no surprise in his voice, as though he had thoughtof nothing but to find her there. "I thought Nicodemus said thou hadstnot come."

  "I did not go to him," said Eldris. "I was at another house a littlewhile. Now I am taken care of by the priests of Saint Peter's."

  Nicanor nodded. His eyes had not left her face.

  "Perhaps that is best. Why dost thou weep?"

  Eldris flushed again. But his gray eyes were inexorable; they draggedtruth from her in spite of all her will.

  "I--thou wert sleeping, and I thought thee ill, and I--was sorry."

  "I am not ill," he answered, and his voice was gentle. "But let us speakof thee. Now I have come, not so soon as I had thought to come. It wasnot mine to say what I should do."

  "The sight burst upon him in all its hideousness,--wherehad been the stately mansion of his lord."]

  "You mean--?" Eldris said quickly. "Tell me of it. Tell me all of it, Ipray you!"

  Nicanor's eyes changed with the quick sweet smile which at rare timeshad power to lighten his face as a shaft of sunshine lights athundercloud.

  "All?" he repeated indulgently. "So, then, this is the tale."

  He sat rocking gently back and forth, hands clasped about his knees,looking not at her at all, but away over the billowing hills.

  "When thou hadst slipped away from the door of that torture room, I andHito amused ourselves. And when our game was ended, he had no thought ofthee nor thy escape; me it was upon whom all his loving care wascentred. So it was commanded that I be taken to the lowest dungeon cell,there to meditate upon the sins which were mine.... I think that in allthe world no man knows darkness as do I. Night is not dark; it hath thesilver stars above it, and in the world the red earth-stars of men. ButI was in darkness which was the darkness of the grave made manifest; itpressed upon mine eyes like leaden weights, and numbed my brain, and wasa cloak which smothered me. What hours rolled on I knew not. I was fedor I starved; all was one. There was no time, there was no life, therewas no death; there was but a naked soul sitting in still darkness. Fivepaces is my cell from wall to wall; shoulder high above the floor is ajutting stone. I doubt not that it is red with blood, since each time Ipassed, it scored me if I had not care."

  Her shiver brought his glance back to her; with a smile he woke torecollection of her presence.

  "I cry not thy sympathy, sweet sister; for there were times, and thesewere many, when the door of that dungeon opened wide, and Hito himselfcould not take from me my freedom. When I was back upon the moors withshepherds, who listened while I spoke; when I was by the camp-fires ofThorney in the Fords and men left their business at my word; and therewas no darkness then in all the world. Back on the hills, where theclouds sweep free and the wind calls; back in the press of life, amidthe crowding feet of men; back in the Garden of Lost Dreams, whereflowers bloomed and grass was green and tender, and brown birds sang oflove and life and freedom. And Hito, fond fool, rubbed his hands andthought he held me caged!"

  He was very far from her again, in his own strange world; and she satand watched him, her soul in her shining eyes, if he had but seen it,and knew she could not enter with him. He spoke more quickly; his voicefell to a deeper note, and in it was a mystery at which Eldris caughther breath.

  "And out of the darkness there came a Tale to me, and thereafter therewas light. And the tale is not yet ended--but it grows, it grows! Nightand day it rings within my head; always it is with me, mine and mineonly. But there is that in it which eludes me, which I seek and cannotfind. And until I find it, the tale is not yet done. And it is of aChild, a Babe who lay within his mother's arms and smiled at all theworld."

  Eldris started, and her eyes, fixed upon his face, widened and filledwith light. And again at her motion Nicanor came back to her. He lookedat her, and his own eyes were as she had seen them once before, whenupon a day she had told him that the name men called him was thesilver-tongued.

  "Once thou didst tell that tale to me," he said, "and day or night ithath never left me since. When it is ended, and I have found this thingI seek, then I'll tell it thee."

  He took up his speech again, and she hung upon his words, unafraid towatch him since his eyes were turned from her.

  "So there was a gray rat within this my dungeon cell; and at such timeswhen the light faded and I was back therein, I coaxed and fed him, andtaught him how to fight. Eh, he was a gallant beast, and his scar is yetupon my hand. He, my gaunt gray rat, and this little Christ of thinewere all that kept my brain from madness those days when I sat indarkness. And in time, I, with others, was sent off to the mines, andthere we labored until word came that men were needed to help our lord,who was attacked in his household by barbarians. But I was left behindwhen these were started, wounded by one with whom I had a quarrel aboutthis same gray rat. When I reached our lord's house, it was empty,sacked and spoiled, and stationarii patrolled it. So I came onward toLondinium and here again was I left behind. Our lord hath left thecountry, and we are free to live or die as we may. I had no plan forthee when I bade thee to come hither, for there was no time for planningwith Hito's jaws agape for thee." He rose to his feet and stood lookingdown upon her. "Now we be both alone, and there is but one thing for itthat I can see. Thou must come with me. I cannot promise thee ease noreven safety, but what I have, thou shalt have also."

  "With thee!" Eldris repeated below her breath, and turned her face fromhim. It flushed and was radiant; love brimmed over in her eyes. Was shethe one who might find her place in that stern, deep heart of his,--shewho might learn the spel
l which would soothe those bitter moods of histo stillness? Her eyes glowed and drooped. And then, slowly, across herface there fell a shadow, and the shadow was of the cross. She knewnothing of evasion; as her heart, so her lips spoke.

  "With thee!" she breathed again. A sob caught her throat. In her turnshe rose and faced him. "Ah, I would so gladly--so gladly! But--I can gowith thee in but one way, and that way as thy wife."

  Nicanor looked at her.

  "Why, thou knowest that may not be," he said gently, yet with somesurprise. "I am a slave, and a slave hath no rights before the law, norto lawful marriage. It is the law. But come thou!"

  Eldris turned white.

  "I am Christian!" she said painfully, "and that thing I may not do.Father Ambrose teacheth that Christ hath forbidden."

  "I did not make the law," said Nicanor. "Could I do so, I'd give theegladly the name of wife. But even thus, more of honor I could not givethee. It is not what I wish to do, but what I must do." He took her facebetween his hands. "Child, the law is made, not by man, but by men; andit is not for man only, but for men. Were it not found good by men, itcould not be. And the law, in its wisdom, saith that a slave is a beast,a thing without rights; and I am a slave. There is no law which couldmarry me to thee.... I cannot give thee marriage,--I, a slave."

  "And I, a Christian, cannot go without," said Eldris, very low. Twotears rolled from beneath her wan closed lids. Nicanor bent his tallhead and kissed them away, with what tenderness a brother might give asister dearly loved. But with sudden wild sobbing Eldris flung up herarms and clasped his neck, and hid her face against him.

  "Oh, I would go with thee!" she wept. "Heart of my heart, I would followto the world's end, wherever thy path might lead me. I love thee,Nicanor, oh, my man of the silver tongue! and I shall love thee eventill I die. But go with thee I may not--I dare not! Is this right? Werethy law and my religion made for this, to wreak such woe upon those whofollow them? It is cruel,--it is more cruel than death, and I would toGod that I were dead!"

  Nicanor stood a moment silent, stroking her dark hair gently.

  "No man would hold thee less worthy, since the case is as it must be.Never have I heard of slaves who took thy view of this. All thy lifeshalt thou have honor and protection. Were it in my power to mendmatters, and I did not, the fault would then lie with me. As it is, itis no man's fault, and we have the right to make the best we may of it."

  She shook her head, struggling with her tears. His tone changed; itdeepened and thrilled until she thrilled with it; in it she heard theconcentration of all loneliness and all bitterness.

  "Come to me, Eldris, for I need thee sorely! All my life have I gonechained, desiring what I could not win, longing for what lay beyond me.Must it be so again? Once one said: 'Seek thou the sanctuary while yetthere may be time; and when thou art entered in all else shall be asnothing, for there thou shalt have peace.' Then I did not understand;now know I too well. That is what all my life I have never found, thoughI have sought in many places, and for a weary while. Therefore pray yourGod to pity me and all who are as I, for I am ridden by ten thousanddevils--a flame consumes me which I cannot quench. An ambition is notall a blessing to him who hath it! Oh, the dreams that were mine, whichthe high gods gave to me, and which are gone,--gone as the smoke goesand shall never come again! The glimpse I have had of a world thatshould be mine and never can be mine hath shown me all that I have lost.I beat my hands against the bars, and what doth it avail? I am aslave--a slave was I born and a slave shall I die. There is beauty inthe world, and I may not see it; there is knowledge in the world, and Imay not share it; and my soul is sick with longing for what all men mayhave but I. There is a thing within me which cries panting for release,and rends me because I know not how to set it free. It is agony anddelight, pain and joy beyond all naming; and once I thought it only joy.Thus ever hath it been: what I have thought would bring me peace hathbrought me pain, and pain that I know not what I have done to deserve.It was not thus when I lived a brute's life among the brutes in far,gray, northern hills; there was I content, not knowing that I wantedsomething more. Now have I stretched my hands out to a star, and foundit so far beyond my reach that for me its light is lost in darknesswhich will never lift. Yet the star is shining,--but not for me."

  The torrent of his speech checked. His voice dropped from the strain ofits hoarse passion. He gathered her two hands closer on his breast.

  "We be two outcasts, thou and I!--thou shunning, I shunned. Yet we stillhave each the other. Now do I come seeking the sanctuary of thy love,thy balm and healing for the hands and heart I have beaten against mybars. Wilt thou deny? Must I be turned away? Eldris, come!"

  "Oh!" cried Eldris, her heart in her stricken voice. Long she looked athim, with eyes drowned in tears and lips quivering, all her struggle inher torn face. But suddenly she drew her hands from his, and slipped toher knees before him, and hid her face in shaking fingers.

  "Oh, God!" she prayed,--and once Nicanor had heard words babbling sofrom a man upon the rack who never knew that he had talked aloud,--"keepme from going with him! I want to so--oh, I want to so! Make mestrong--never let me yield to what is sin! Keep me from going with him!I love him so that I would sin for him! Dear Jesus Lord, keep me fromdoing that! But make me strong very quickly, or I must go--how can Istay when he so sorely needs me? Oh, God, God, God, I could comfort himso well! We cannot help it, neither he nor I. Nay, I will not weaken,--Iwill be strong, quite strong,--but in pity Thou must help a little too!I love Thee and the little Jesus, but I love him more--oh, nay--notmore! I did not mean it!" She raised her streaming face, turning at thelast from the Power whence no help came, to the human strength besideher. "Oh, beloved, help me, for I cannot fight alone!"

  So, at the need of one soul, into the world another soul was born, andthe long travail of spirit rending flesh was ended.

  "Dear heart, be strong!--thy will shall be my will. If it be sin tothee, thou shalt not sin through me!" Nicanor said, and knelt besideher.

  Nerveless and shaken with strangling sobs, she crept into the shelter ofhis arms, trusting him wholly now that his word was hers, pleadingunconsciously that he save her from herself and from him. He lifted herto her feet, soothing her with touch and voice, forgetting himself inher distress. Her religious scruples he could not comprehend; the godsof religion were to be invoked when one wanted material benefits fromthem, not held as mentors to dictate one's course in life. But since shehad such scruples, and since he was learning new, strange tolerance forand sympathy with others, it was not his to blame her for them; ratherto remember that though they might be nothing to him, they were all toher, and were therefore not to be held lightly. So, because he wasslowly gaining the strength to think of others before himself,--and ofstrength this is the surest test,--and because the tenderness of astrong man is greater than all the tenderness of a woman, he soothed herand brought her peace; and, it may be, in bringing it he found a measureof it himself. She was very dear to him,--dear as one might be who wasnot enshrined above all her kind forever. Heart and soul he wasanother's, for all time and all eternity; yet life was his to live andto make the best of it, even though there was a locked and guardedchamber in it of which the key was lost....

  Hand in hand they walked homeward in the faint twilight glow. He lefther at the church gate, and himself turned away, back toward the houseof Nicodemus, walking with bent head and broad shoulders bowed. But hisface was not all sombre; something of the courage he had given herremained to him, and his eyes were softened with the new tendernesswhich still lived. For it is one of the compensations as well as of thepenalties of life, that what one gives, one shall get again.

  At the threshold sudden distaste seized him; after what he had beenthrough, the thought of the well-meaning, brutish chatter of Nicodemusand his wife was not to be endured. He turned back again and went as farfrom them as he could get, down to the river-ford. Here he sat upon thebeach, away from the passing of the people; and the waters rippled athis feet. The
west had cleared; overhead the faint rose of the sky waspaling, but across the broad river was splashed a pastel of orange andblue and crimson; and the red, misty ball of the sun was dipping belowthe world's dark rim.

  "This is love also," Nicanor said aloud, as though one had been by tohear him. "As she loveth me, so I love. There is love of a man for amaid, and of husband for wife; and there is love of sire for child, andof a friend for a friend, and of these all are different. Yet it is allone love, touching life on every side.... Why, then, it takes in all theworld!"

  His voice changed and rang with quick and startled exultation.

  "Gods of my fathers! I have found it--I have found that thing I sought!It is love, not fear, nor wrath, nor power, that gave that little Childhis power! And because it takes in all the world, this little One ofwhom men tell hath this love, then, for all the world. Now this isstrange! Oh, Little Brother, I have found my tale, and it shall begreater than any tale that I have made before!"

  His eyes deepened and flashed to the quick surge of power which shookhim; now well and truly should all men name him Nicanor of the silvertongue. He was a slave, yet men should bow before him. No iron barsmight longer hold him down; Fate, that mocking Fate of his, could nolonger keep him chained. But over all the triumph in his face there grewalso the old awe as in those days of boyhood, long ago, when first heknew himself for but the tool with which the work was wrought. His facechanged and grew longing; his keen eyes dimmed. Quite suddenly he roseto his knees, kneeling as he had seen Eldris kneel, and clasped hishands as Eldris had clasped hers.

  "Oh, Little Brother of the World, if thou lovest all men, love me also,for I have no one else. When I have sought love, it hath ever turnedfrom me, prospering nothing. But since it seemeth that all men must lovesomething, woman, or fame, or gold, it may be that it is not for me tolove one woman only, but all men. If it be that I must choose, I willlose love of woman, and love of friend, and love of child; I will livealone to the end of my days, if but this soul of mine, which singeth inmy loneliness, may return to me and my lips be no longer dumb. Love hathchained them; let now love set them free. And this my tale shall bestrong as the wind that calls across the hills, and pure as flame, andgreat as love which takes in all the world, to the end that it may beworthy. Mine it is, and mine only; I made it, and it is blood of myblood and flesh of my flesh, and none may take it from me. Yet it isall, and I am naught but the voice which speaks."

  His voice sank. He sat in silence, looking beyond the sunset, his handsabout his knees.

  So slowly the waters closed over the sun, and the day died, and theshadow of night descended upon Thorney.

  VII

  Old oaks caught the sunlight in their reaching hands and dropped it downto earth in flakes of gold; beech and larch and linden reared their tallheads above the road, and vines clung to them in woven tapestries ofliving green. There opened from this road dim forest aisles, veiled indusk in which sunbeams quivered, paths of mystery, winding towardstrange twilight worlds where wild wood-creatures wandered. Warmearth-scents drenched the air; soft sibilant whisperings stirredoverhead, and hidden birds chattered in the leafage.

  Here Nicanor sat in the dusk and gold of the forest's afternoon, hisback against a gray tree-trunk, his hands about his knees. Hither everyday he wandered, drinking new life from Earth's brown bosom, with idlehands and weaving brain. Here, where he had lost his vision, he wasdrawn back as by enchantment. He wished to dream again; to conjure forththe flying figure from the void into which it had vanished. To him itwas more real than reality; for want of the substance he strove to keepthe shadow in his heart.

  In the spirit he roamed world-wide, with the narrow life of Thorney, itspetty din and traffic, fallen away from him and forgotten utterly.Always his wandering ended in a garden, whose every path of dusky greenhe knew by heart, where one waited for him in the still evening light.In the flesh he lived with Nicodemus and Myleia, letting himself bewaited on, worried over, caressed, to their affectionate hearts'content. No mood of his was too wayward for their sympathy; when atnightfall, after long hours of brooding, he would chant strange tales bysome crowded camp-fire, than theirs were no voices quicker in wonder andapplause. That they understood not half of what he said mattered nothingto their fondness; yet to Nicanor it was this one thing which matteredall. Nor were they the only ones who listened and loved his words. Manya fretting soul he lulled to quiet by his magic; to many he gavepleasure whose pleasures were all too few. Once he had scorned them,these simple children of plain and forest, whose emotions he could mouldas a potter moulds his clay; in his high pride he had thought that thesewere not the worlds he was born to conquer. Now he loved them; to bringa moment's brightness into some gray life, a moment's forgetfulness ofpain to one who suffered--this it was his to do. For, as once he hadthought to move the hearts of kings with his power, so now he knew thata king's heart is no more than man's heart, and only he may move the onewho can move the other. And every heart that he won he laid in spirit atthe feet of his lost lady, who had taught him the Master-word of thetongue of men and angels, without which faith and hope can profitnothing, nor can any heart be won.

  A thicket of briars and underbrush hid him from the road. For drowsyhours he had looked through his tangled lattice upon the life that wentup and down the highway, himself unseen,--a pedler, bent under theweight of the pack upon his shoulders, making wry faces at his blisteredfeet; a farmer, mounted on his clumsy two-wheeled cart, returning fromthe markets of Londinium; a chariot, gay with paint and gilding, withtwo young nobles arguing over the races at Uriconium; and between allthese, long intervals of sun-steeped stillness, when the world drowsedand insects shrilled in the untrod grasses.

  Later there came northward toward Londinium a funeral train, on the wayto the cemeteries that lined the road outside the town, weaving in andout among the checkered shadows, stately and slow and solemn in its pompof death. There was a bier, draped with a pall of sable velvet, anddrawn by four white horses, pacing slow. Slaves and clients went on footbefore and behind it; and beside it there walked a man, tall and oflordly bearing. His hand rested on the bier's edge; his face, bowed uponhis breast, was scored with sorrow. There was dust upon the richness ofhis mourning cloak; and dust also on the plumed trappings of the horses,and the garments and the sandals of the slaves. This pilgrimage of loveand sorrow had been no easy one, nor short. Nicanor, peering through thebrambles at the sombre train, read the story in the man's face, wheretragedy sat frozen. At once his mind's eyes saw, beneath the embroideredpall, a fair dead face, great eyes closed, and lashes drooping on amarble cheek, two hands folded on a pulseless breast. In a heart-beat itwas as though a veil had lifted, and he probed the depths of one phaseof the world's tragedy; through one man's sorrow he looked into thesorrows of all men. By his own pain he felt himself made kin to allthose thousands of the earth who knew pain also. The feeling lasted buta moment, and was gone, leaving him with hushed breath and shining eyes.

  "Here have I found another chord of life to play on," he said softly."And when it is touched there is no human heart but must answer. So thoualso hast lost her, O friend! And yet, perhaps, after all, thou arthappier than I. There are things worse than death, as I have found. Atleast ... she is all thine!"

  When the turn of the afternoon had come, and while he lay watching gnatsdancing in a shaft of golden light that fell athwart the trees, his earscaught voices from the road, and the click of a horse's feet against astone. A woman laughed; and again he parted the brambles and looked out.The road was splashed with sunshine and shadowed by the trees whicharched above it and hid the sky. Down it, with faces turned fromThorney, two came toward him,--a girl, sitting sideways on a great bayhorse, leaning to the man who walked beside it. She was fair, with longhair lying in a golden sheen upon her crimson mantle. She rode steadyingherself to the horse's stride with a hand upon the man's shoulder. He,tall, fair also of hair and skin, with blue eyes laughing under flaxenbrows, in a brown leathern jacket and brazen cap whi
ch caught the sun insmall sliding gleams of light, led the horse by its bridle and looked upat her as she talked. Down the green forest way they came in the mellowshade and sunshine, fair as gods, radiant in their youth and life andhappiness, with eyes for nothing, ears for nothing, save each other.

  "It is Wardo!" said Nicanor, in surprise. "Sure I had thought him on theway to Gaul."

  He pressed through the thicket and stepped into the road. Wardo saw him,and dropped the bridle with an exclamation, and ran forward.

  "Thou!" he cried, and fell upon Nicanor in a storm of joy. "Thou greatrascal, I had thought thee dead. Where hast been that thou didst notseek me? When didst leave the mines? Hast heard of what befell our lord?Oh, I have hungered for thee, to tell thee the good fortune which ismine!"

  The horse came up to them, with the girl in the crimson mantle sittingstately on its back. Her eyes were blue and shining; her cheeks wereflushed with the rose of life. Nicanor smiled at her and at his friend.

  "So, Sada?" he said, with a note in his voice which neither caught. "Allis then as it should be?"

  "Ay, promise you that!" said Wardo, a hand on the girl's knee. Shesmiled down into his eyes. "She is mine now. This day did I take thegold to Chloris, and the cage-door opened, and my bird was free. My birdnow, and no other man's."

  "Thine!" she murmured, radiant.

  "When our lord departed for Gaul, I was left behind in the confusion."So Wardo told his tale. "Well, perhaps I need not have been, had not thegods willed it so. Therefore I was my own man, and could not be held toaccount for it, since my lord ran away from me, not I from him. So Ijoined those East Saxons who are moving down upon us from the Fens, andhenceforth my lot is cast with them. For some of these I repairedswords, bucklers, what not, since my old trade is not lost to me, andfor my work they gave me gold--ay, much gold. And with the gold I boughtSada. Now we go forth to seek our nest; where, we care not. She is mine,and I am free. Ye holy gods, but it is fine for a man to own himself andcall none other lord! No man ever more shall hold me slave to him.Henceforth we be rovers, this star of my life and I. Come thou with us,friend! If thou stay here, thou'lt be held no better than _erro_, alandless, masterless wanderer, who is fair game for the law and for allmen. Had my lord stayed, thou knowest that I too should have remainedfaithful. He being gone, we must fend for ourselves as best we may."

  Nicanor shook his head.

  "Nay, I stay here. Go thou thy way, and may thy faring prosper. Now tellof our lord and his escape."

  Wardo laughed.

  "Ho, there was work which thou shouldst have seen!" He told of Wulf, andof the fighting which was done within the villa; of the flight from thehouse, the long ride by cart-track and highway to Calleva, with his ladycrouched in front of him and her hair blowing over his hands. And hereNicanor broke in.

  "Thou there with her, and I--Tell me, man, was she hurt or frightened?Did she swoon or weep?"

  "How could I see?" said Wardo. "I stood, and she kneeled before me. Andlittle did I care whether she wept or swooned, when the grays wereplunging like to tear my arms from my body, and it was all I could do tokeep upon two wheels. There went my lord ahead, and here pounded Iafter, and alongside rode my lord Marius, watching his wife and itchingto be back and have it out with those reavers. I saw it in his eye. Eh,that was a wild night. We made the Bibracte road, and doubled backeastward, and so rode for Londinium. But at the second miliarium fromBibracte the grays gave out. So my lord Marius took my lady upon hissaddle, and they all went on, bidding me follow as soon as might be. Butby the grace of the gods, I was too late. When I reached the port, mylord and his people had set sail for Gaul. Well, then, if thou wilt notcome with us, when things be settled, and a man may know better what tolook for, I shall come and seek thee, and we will have a talk over olddays together, and spill a drop or so to Bacchus. Until then, comrade o'mine, farewell."

  They grasped hands, and Sada smiled a farewell at Nicanor. The two wenton, then, and left him standing there, and he watched them pass awayinto the glinting light and shade until Sada's crimson mantle was lostin the green gloom of trees. He took his slow way back toward Thorney,musing as he walked.

  "This day mine eyes have looked on life and death, and all that deathmourns and life clamors is Love, Love, and again Love. Strange thatsomething all men must love, who cannot live for themselves alone, nomatter how they try."

  He came down from his dreams at the stepping-stones of the marsh-ford,to find himself all but overrunning a child who stood upon the bank andwept because he feared to cross--a small atom of a man, with littletunic torn and puckered face of woe. At sight of Nicanor he ran, andflung himself against his legs, with the sure confidence of babyhood inall the new, strange world, and clamored to be taken home.

  Nicanor stooped to him with a laugh, recognizing him as the son of oneJulius the Tungrian, a field-hand belonging to the farmer Medor, whoseestate lay between the hills a half-mile from Thorney.

  "How now, manling? Why these tears at thy first venture into the world?How didst stray so far from mother's skirts? Dost wish to go home?"

  "Ay, home!" wept young Julius. "Thou wilt take me home!"

  "Come, then," said Nicanor, and swung him to his shoulder, and turnedback from the ford to the road again.

  It came upon him then that this was the first time that ever he had helda child in his arms. Always before had children run from him, learning,like their elders, to shun him: now he knew why. The softness of theround little body thrilled him oddly; the touch of the clinging hands,the baby weight upon his shoulder, called into life emotions such as hehad never thought to know. A child, a little living child, her child andhis.... The thought stirred him suddenly to his soul; and with thethought a fresh bit of the Scroll of Life unrolled before hiseyes,--that Scroll which slowly he was learning how to read. His heartcaught another phase of the old experience of the world, the high prideand joy of fatherhood. Again, as once before, he got a flash of new,strange light into the hearts and minds of all the world of men, as withthe parting of a veil; found a new chord under his hand to be struckinto pulsing life. All unaware that on a day his lady had said, "His soncould I love, and be proud that he was mine," he marvelled at himselfand at his feeling, and still more at the little one that had such powerto wake it.

  He reached the farm of Medor, and stopped at the cabin of Julius, whomhe knew, which stood at the edge of the estate. Through the open doorwayhe could see, in the obscurity of the one poor room within, a woman'sfigure, bending to rub her man's back, bruised and raw from the harnessof the plough, with ointment of herbs--a nightly proceeding regular asthe evening meal. When she had done, he would take his turn in rubbingher; since it was not enough for women to be the bearers of children,but also they must be hewers of wood and drawers of water as well. Sherose to straighten herself from her task, and saw the tall figure comingdoorward, with the little one crowing upon his shoulder. At herexclamation, Julius, rugged and mossed as a sturdy hemlock, came to thethreshold to look over her shoulder, stripped to the waist, his neck andarms shining with the grease.

  "Here is thy son, O Kalia!" said Nicanor, halting. "He was by Thorney,weeping because the world was not large enough for his adventure."

  The mother received her son with tender welcome, but he held his armsout to Nicanor, whimpering to be taken back.

  "He runs away to play with boys while I am in the field, the wickedone!" she said.

  Julius looked down at her and at his boy with proud eyes. When he wasdrunk he would beat his wife, but she loved him because he loved theirchild. Nicanor looked at the three.

  "He is worth having," he said, very soberly, nor thought that his wordsmight sound strange to them. He smiled at the boy, and left them, withthe mother's thanks following him.

  And Julius, watching him across the field toward the road, said:

  "Mark you how the boy hath taken to him? Dost remember, before he wentaway from Thorney, how children ran from him, and even folk feared himand his gall-tipped tong
ue?"

  "I remember," Kalia answered. "Even I have punished the child by saying,'The black man Nicanor will get thee if thou stop not thy crying,' untilfor very fear he ceased. Never have I seen one so changed as he.Juncina, the fish-wife, with whom I spoke but yesterday on Thorney,saith that each day he goeth to lame Gallus, the blacksmith's son, whois dying of a fever, and telleth him tales until the little one sleeps.And when folk give him money for his tales, he will take it, though henever asketh it, and of it he will give half to those three old men whomeach day he tendeth. It is not so long since he hath been back onThorney, yet even so all men wonder at the change in him. Verily, Ithink that he must be in love."

  "That is ever all you women think of!" Julius grumbled. "Were you tohave your way of it, it would be love that worketh all the miracles,cureth all the illnesses, taketh the place of all the gods. Now come andrub; I am sore in every joint and sinew."

  Nicanor went home in a brown study, seeing never Kalia's broad, homelyface, untidy wisps of hair, brown bosom covered by her coarse graykerchief, but that face, young and fair and tender, which in his dreamshad become mingled with that Other Woman's face with holy eyes, who wasthe Virgin Mother of all love. When he thought of this one, it was tothink of the other, no longer woman merely, but idealized and upliftedinto all that he could imagine of purity, a something too fine forearth. In place of humble Kalia, he pictured that fair patrician face ashis soul's eyes saw it, glorified with the mother-love upon it, broodingover a round little head in the hollow of her breast. Holy gods, themaddening, sweet mockery of it! He shook himself as one who throws off aweight upon him, and turned in at the house of Nicodemus, whistling,with aching throat and sombre eyes of pain.

  It was later than he had thought, and the evening meal was over. Thistroubled him not at all, for in that house he was sovereign lord, andknew his power. Myleia and her ursine spouse served him quite as thoughthey had been his slaves. A roasted pigeon hot from the coals, beanscooked in oil with garlic, a cake of barley-bread baked in the ashes,honey, and a pitcher of wine--no lord could have fared better than theiridol.

  Nicodemus carried an empty platter to Myleia in the kitchen, showing itto her with immense pride.

  "He hath eaten all!" he rumbled in a rasping whisper. "The first timethese three weeks. Come! that is doing better. We'll have him aroundyet, my girl--this spoiled baby of ours."

  "Who spoileth him?" she retorted, pinching his ear gently. "Thou artworse over him than a mother whose babe hath cut its first tooth. Thouart foolish in thine old age, my great ugly bear."

  "Soul of my heart, a man must find something to be foolish over!" hedeclared, vastly pleased. "And it is high time I left off being foolishover thee. Eh, sweeting, what sayest thou?"

  He ruffled her hair with his great hand. Nicanor looked in upon themfrom the threshold.

  "At it again, thou old lion and his mate? Thou also!" he said, andsmiled at them. "I go down to the ford--there be a party of men ridingover the hill. Wilt come, Nico?"

  The two went forth into the evening, leaving Myleia to watch them withfond eyes of pride from the low doorway.

  Along the street people had begun to gather, with more of curiosity tosee what might be seen than of apprehension. Woodmen with bundles offagots on their shoulders, fishermen with strings of fish, itinerantwine-sellers rattling strings of horn cups, with skins of cheap redwine, vendors of the black sticky sweetmeats made of the blood of beevesmixed with rice and honey,--all these ceased to cry custom for theirevening trade in interest at the arrival of the strangers. It was longsince such a crowd had descended upon Thorney; trade might be improving.Women, ragged, with more ragged children clinging to their skirts, camefrom the fisher-huts upon the beach to gaze across the marsh.

  And across the ford, on the crest of the long gentle rise of hill overwhich the straight road ran, came riding a troop of horsemen,carelessly, without order, in a tangle of waving spears and gleaminghelmets. No merchants or townsfolk were these; and a tingle went throughthe crowd at the sight of weapons. Those were days when none knew whatto expect from hour to hour. The on-comers cantered down the hill andinto the waters of the marsh-ford; and it could be seen that they werefor the most part fair-skinned, and every man bore a round buckler ofbullock's hide upon his arm. At once a whisper flew from end to end ofThorney:

  "These be Saxons!"

  The name had become a word with which to conjure. The crowd upon thebeach increased. Nicanor and Nicodemus stood in the forefront of it andwatched.

  The leaders of the party--an old man with white drifting beard and hotblue eyes, and a young one, with tanned face and brown, curlinghair--rode out upon the shingle with stern faces set straight ahead.Those behind them were more free and easy as to bearing; a man leanedfrom his saddle to scoop up water in his hand; there was joking in lowtones, and deep-throated laughter. As they drew nearer to the people,waiting silent, it could be seen that they had with them a prisoner intheir midst, bound upon his horse and wounded; and at sight of him amurmur fluttered through the crowd. For he went in the dress of a Romannoble, torn and stained with blood, his head sunk forward on his breast,his right arm in a sling--a pitiful object, were there those to pity.

  With the crowd Nicanor and Nicodemus followed the Saxons as they rodealong the main street. Questions flew from mouth to mouth:

  "Who is this lord, their prisoner? Whither take they him? How did theycapture him? For what come they here?" But to these no man could give ananswer.

  VIII

  Thereafter Fate, the grim, smiling goddess, took into her own hand theshuttle of Destiny and sent it flying fast rough the warp and woof ofLife. For when they came to the river's brink, the tide was in, and thewaters of Tamesis, too deep to ford with safety since the moon was full,swirled past them in their swift rush from the sea.

  The Saxons halted on the beach, dismounting, while the leadersconferred, and the prisoner drooped pallid in their midst; and the menof Thorney seized upon their chance for trade. An hundred mouths to feedwas a boon not to be despised in those lean days. There sprang up ahorde of wine-sellers, men with poultry, with produce, and with meats.The two leaders rode away to seek an inn, each attended by a servant. Afire was kindled on the beach, where in other days so many fires hadblazed; for a brief while Thorney took on a semblance of its formerthriving self. Mingled with the sounds of trade and barter there washeard the dry, thin rattle of a sistrum from a temple of Isis wherepriests and worshippers were gathered for hidden rites; the voices ofmen singing, the neighing of horses.

  Here, on the river side of Thorney, the beach was wider than upon themarsh side. The houses grouped themselves in black, irregular massesbehind this beach; and to the west, a short distance from the water'sedge, rose the low stone wall which bounded the land of the Christianchurch. Fishermen's huts were crowded at the foot of this wall; andalong the sand were strewn rotting spars and timbers, and there wereboats drawn out of reach of the tide. Old houses, wrecked by fire andtime, leaned their tottering walls above the alleys at strange angles,settling slowly into the ruin of age. The round moon hung stately, lowin the eastern sky, drowning in radiance the garish glare of flames;houses stood out sharp-cut against its light, and strange shadows flungacross the crooked cobbled streets. A broad path of silver glinted onthe inky waters of the river. The smell of fish and tar rose strongabove all other scents.

  The Saxons, hungry and weary from their march, ate hugely and drankdeep. Horns of mead and beer were drained and filled; white wine was asgood as red. They talked with the men of Thorney, in strange Latin, withmuch gesticulation and interpolation of Saxon words. Among the manyfigures on the beach, black in the mingled light of moon and flame, wasceaseless motion, kaleidoscopic and bewildering. Thorney woke to a lustygayety, born of deep drinking; of recklessness, even, such as she hadknown rarely since the old days of the legions. Laughter became louder;quarrels, short and fierce, arose as hot blood mounted with the fumes ofwine. Into the air there crept a tension, the intangible effluvium o
fexcitement which precedes the arousing of the crowd. Quite suddenly thespirits of people were raised to fever pitch; the boisterous vigor ofthe Saxons was infectious.

  Nicanor soon lost sight of Nicodemus. He stood among the people,regarding the scene with eyes of detachment. As always in a crowd, anodd sense of impersonality possessed him, of aloofness; in it he wasforgetful of his own presence, of his own corporeality; became as a Mindseeking out its own. Here and there he was recalled by a man's greeting;here and there also a woman spoke. Everywhere he was hailed cheerily, asone comrade by another. Jests were passed to him, for which he gave asgood as he got. There was that in their intercourse with him whichproved him one of themselves, an intimate sharer in their pleasures,their sorrows, their lives. Yet he was the man who not so many yearsbefore had in this place been baited as men bait a bear--the surlier,the better sport.

  A red-lipped flower-girl, on the way home from her day's business inLondinium with her basket of remaining blossoms, was pressed against hisshoulder in the outer edge of the crowd that watched the Saxons feed, asboys gather to see the wild beasts of the arena tear their meat. Sheturned, saw him, and laughed with gay raillery.

  "Couldst even thou, O Silver-tongued, make of these great guzzlingcattle a tale?"

  He looked at her with quick artist joy in the vivid color and effect ofher,--red lips, cheeks as brilliant as her roses, black eyes, midnighthair in which a crimson flower was tangled. In her laughing glance, hercare-free joyous innocence, he caught a hint, gone as swiftly as itcome, of that Other who held his soul. Now he understood the heart andinmost meaning of it; it was the all-compelling Womanhood, the sacredspark, guarded and precious, which set men's hearts aflame; and for him,henceforth, because of that one, it made all women sacred. He answeredher, banter for banter.

  "What would the world be without cattle, O Flower-maiden? And why not atale? There is a tale in all things, if one but look to find it--inevery bud and leaf and flower--in these Saxons--in thee, little sisterto the rose!"

  "That is pretty," she cried, dimpling. "Here is a bloom in payment; onceit was as fragrant as thy words. May they never lose sweetness like aflower which fadeth!"

  Reaching up, she thrust a flower behind his ear, as a young fop of thenobility would wear it, and sprang away into the crowd laughing.

  "The wish of innocence should be good omen; the gods grant it!" saidNicanor. He pushed onward through the press to get a nearer view of theSaxons; and heard as he came a great voice shouting a rhythmic chant.

  Over the shoulders of those in front he could see a ring of Saxonssurrounding the man who sang. As they listened they drank, and as theydrank grew more emphatic in applause. The singer was a bull-chestedfellow, purple-faced with his exertions. He swung his sword, he roared,he heaved himself upon his toes; and Nicanor, fellow-craftsman and makerof words, eyed him and smiled a smile of pity.

  The shouting ceased; the man cast himself upon the ground and called forwine. Nicanor touched upon the shoulder one whose face showed that heunderstood the words.

  "Friend, who is this dainty warbler, and what the burden of his song?"

  "Who he is I know not," said the man, with a grunt of laughter. "What hesang was the greatness of his people, and their skill in war. Tell thouthem a tale, Nicanor; these Saxons will listen all day to tales, andgive good silver to the teller."

  Nicanor shook his head.

  "Nay; perhaps they understand not Latin over well, and I had rather thatthey understood than that they gave me silver. Now what are they goingto do?"

  Two men dragged the prisoner forward into the circle of the firelight.He was afoot, but the hand free of the sling was bound to his body. Thatthe poor wretch knew what they would do with him was plain; he cringed,and cast hunted glances around the ring of fire-lit, curious faces.

  "I am Felix of Anderida, a Roman lord!" he cried in a high voice, hispale eyes wide with fear. "If there be any Roman among ye who will freeme from these Saxon wolves, I will give him gold as much as his back maycarry!"

  A Saxon raised his hand and smote the lord upon the mouth, so that bloodbegan to trickle down his chin.

  "Cease thy bleating, thou white-eyed sheep!" he growled in Latin.

  "That is not right, to strike a man unarmed and bound," said the manbeside Nicanor. "I think our backs could carry a goodly sum of gold, eh,friend? These fellows be half drunken; it should not be difficult toget him free of them, and after, make him pay. I am of the collegium ofsmiths in Londinium, and I see many of my fellows here who would standwith me. Also, we could summon the militarii unto us and let them settlethe matter; it is not lawful that these Saxons make away with a Romanafter this fashion."

  "I can hold them, if thou canst summon thy fellows quickly," saidNicanor. His tone was quite assured. "But it must be done at once,before they have worked themselves up to mischief over him."

  "Do thou so then, and I will shake a staff aloft when he is safe," saidthe man, and slipped away among the people.

  Before Nicanor could make his way through to confront the Saxons, whowere preparing for brutal sport with their prisoner, the horses of thetwo chieftains broke through the ring and the riders dismounted in theopen space. The lord Felix twisted away from those who held him and ranto the younger chief.

  "Call thy fellows from me!" he cried. "Each time when thou art not bythey seek to torture me for their sport."

  The brown-haired leader folded his arms across his chest and looked downupon his prisoner. He spoke, in Latin sufficiently fluent.

  "Hast thou forgotten that I am Ceawlin, son of that Evor whom thou hastslain, and that my foot is upon thy neck and thy blood shall be let outin payment for my sire his blood? How then shouldst thou say what may ormay not be done with thee, thou little toad?"

  It was then that Nicanor came into the torchlit ring, walkingcarelessly, a song upon his lips. He stopped where the light fellfullest on him, facing the chieftains, shapely as a young pagan god inthe strength and flower of his manhood, the red rose behind his ear. Thespeech of Ceawlin broke and stopped; his gaze fastened upon the intruderwith the swift recognition of one strong man for another.

  "Who is this man?" he said sharply. None answered; his own people didnot know, and no one else seemed ready to stand sponsor. Ceawlin spokeagain. "Who art thou, fellow? Art thou also of the Welsh?"

  For as Briton was the Roman word, so Welsh, or waelisc, a foreigner, wasthe Saxon word, meaning merely one who was not of Teuton race, and givento those nations which spoke the Latin tongue.

  "I am a Briton," said Nicanor. "Men call me the teller of tales, and Iam come to buy from thee thy prisoner. What price wilt thou put uponhim, O son of Evor?"

  "How knowest thou me?" Ceawlin asked doubtfully. His voice becameangered. "What price, quotha! No price that thou canst pay, sir tellerof tales!"

  "So? Didst ever hear of that ancient sea-king who put too high a priceupon his spoils?" said Nicanor, with a laugh, choosing simple words thatall might understand. Before Ceawlin had time to speak he swung aroundupon the listening men, standing tall in the ruddy light, his headthrown back to shake the hair from his eyes. "Listen, O friends, for itis a good tale, such as ye know how to love. Five black ships,dragon-prowed, rode out of the night, upon the black seas, upon thefoam. Long were they, and lean, and swift as the vertragus, the houndthat outspeeds the hart. Winds roared behind them; great birds swoopedthrough the storm across their way; great waves rushed under them asthey rode with rocking spars. Spray swept across the faces of those whomanned them, as the hair of a woman sweeps across her lover's face;crashing they reeled through lifting seas, and swam to the crests ofcurling billows rimmed with pale fire, and the thunder of their goingoutroared the clamoring storm. Know ye the yell of the wind in thestraining cordage, the heave and fall of the plunging deck beneath yourfeet? Know ye the sting of brine upon your lips, and the savor of thesalt winds in your lungs, O ye sons of Evor?"

  A deep breath went through the circle, as though a breath from the outerseas had fi
lled men's nostrils. Ceawlin licked his lips as though he hadthought to find them stiff with salt.

  "Ay--we know!" he said deeply, his eyes alight. "Hast thou then beenalso upon the seas?"

  Nicanor laughed low.

  "Nay, never I!" he said. "But I see that ye do know."

  "Go on!" spoke a voice, impatient, from the circle.

  They were his, every man, and he knew it. In his first words he hadstruck the chord which answered true in them, these lawless sea-rovers;they were his to play upon as a musician on his lyre. The sure instinctof his art taught him to tell of those things which they themselves knewbest, which were nearest to them, to their own lives. The ring heldsilent, awaiting his next word, bearded men who leaned upon their spearsand iron swords, and listened. They had eyes for none other than he,this tall youth with the black hair and the eyes of steel, who stoodbefore them in his careless pose of triumph, with his red rose thrustbehind his ear; who knew what they knew, felt what they had felt, madethem see what he saw, and held them in the hollow of his hand. Caught upin his swift imagery, even they forgot their prisoner, who, it seemed,was further to one side, less in evidence among his guards. By now theRomans had drawn closer to the ring of Saxons, so that there was onedense crowd about the open space--much narrowed now--where thechieftains and Nicanor stood.

  Not for nothing had he listened to the talk of the deep-sea fishermenand the whalers who frequented Thorney, and stored in his memory allthat they could give him. In his tale was the clamor of the wild northwind, the scream of wheeling gulls, the groan of straining timbers, therush of bubbling foam beneath sharp prows. He told of swift battlefought over heaving waters, whose jaws yawned for their dead; and menhung upon his words. He told of the red medley of the fight; of theheavy fall and sullen splash of bodies into the grave which waited; ofships that grappled in their death-throes like wrestling men and sanklocked in their grim embrace; of defeat and triumph, of high courage ofmen who lost, and the higher courage of mercy of men who won; and men'sfaces grew eager, who themselves had lived through scenes such as these,and themselves had watched the death of gallant ships.

  Nicanor glanced over the ring and saw that the prisoner had disappeared,leaving not a ripple in the crowd to mark his trail. The absorbed facesof his hearers, and the sense of what was being done behind their backs,seized him, and he smothered a laugh. His voice flowed on, deep-toned,vibrant, working his magic upon them, talking against time.

  Somewhere in the outskirts of the crowd a horse neighed loudly; therewas a flurry among those people nearest the sound, and high over men'sheads a staff was shaken. Nicanor's speech broke midway; this was thesignal, and he no longer cared whether or not he held them. In thatinstant the spell was snapped; men stirred and whispered. And suddenly ashout of warning and anger went up--

  "The prisoner! The prisoner hath gone!"

  Forgotten were the tale and its teller; the inner group of Saxons surgedinto commotion and uproar. There was a rising storm of assertion anddenial. Ceawlin strode to Nicanor, his link armor clashing softly as hemoved.

  "Now do I believe that thou hast had to do with this!" he cried in readyanger.

  Nicanor laughed.

  "Perhaps after all it had been better if thou hadst paid the price, lordSaxon!"

  Swift words sprang to Ceawlin's lips, but the elder leader ran to them,shouting something in his own tongue. Ceawlin turned to answer, andNicanor slipped away.

  Face to face he came with a woman seldom seen beyond her jealous doors;a fat and shapeless bunch of garments topped by thin hair streaked withruddy dye, a high white marble brow, an old face deeply lined. The womanwas looking at him keenly, with boring vulture eyes. She spoke swiftly,in a voice clear-toned and silvery as a bell.

  "I heard thee speak.... Once, long years ago, stood I in this place andheard a boy speak, an elfin, wolf-eyed child, who came out of the nightand spoke with an un-childish tongue. Often since have I thought of himand the power within him, for though I was young in years yet was I oldin knowledge, and I knew that never had I seen one like him. Into hishand I put a piece of silver, and I think it was the first that ever hehad touched. Art thou that child?"

  "Ay," said Nicanor. "That child was I. So it was thou who first didstteach me that silver could pay for souls." He thrust a hand into thepouch that hung at his belt and drew forth a broad piece of silver,holding it to her. "But I think it must be clean silver that pays formine, O Chloris."

  The woman flinched oddly. Both had forgotten the rising tide ofexcitement around them.

  "Nay," she said. "I will not have it back. Canst not leave me thethought that there was one gift which I gave honestly--or is it withthee as ever with stony-hearted youth, swift to condemn, slow tounderstand?"

  "Why should I condemn thee?" said Nicanor. "That is not mine to do untilin me is nothing to condemn. Nay, rather could I pity thee."

  The heavy lids opened slightly over Chloris's eyes.

  "And wherefore?" she asked with a hard note in her flute-like voice. "IfI pity not myself, why shouldst thou pity? Am I not loved, and have Inot loved greatly? Have I not riches beyond thine imaginings?"

  Nicanor laughed low and softly, his keen eyes on the old face.

  "Love thou hast never known, O Chloris," he said gently. "In all thylong life of wanton ease, thy long life in which children might haveleaned upon thy knees and children's voices might have called theeblessed, love thou hast never known. Who could not pity this? Or thyname would not be upon the lips of men in the market-place. When menlove, think you they make common talk of what they love? When womenlove, keep they not themselves pure for love's pure sake? Ay, truly Icould pity thee, because some day thou wilt so pity thyself, in spite ofthy riches beyond mine imaginings. That is all."

  "Thou art over strange," said Chloris. "And I would I had not spokenwith thee. After all, what doth it matter? There is always the end, whendarkness comes and the wax is wiped clean."

  "Is there?" said Nicanor. "Is there an end to anything upon the earth?"

  "Now thou art foolish," said Chloris. Her eyes were unchanged, but hervoice was angry. "In truth there is an end, and the end is--death." Shespoke with the deep-rooted and universal distaste of all Romans to thedirect reference to death. "Must not all things be gathered to theshades? And is not that the end of them?"

  "Believe it, then, for so long as thou canst, for thou wilt be thehappier for believing," said Nicanor. "And if some day it come to passthat thou dost believe differently, remember then what others havefound, that only love can save thee--the love which thou hast neverknown. Were it not wise, O Chloris, to seek it while yet there may betime?" He paused, and his eyes forgot her. "I am seeking now," he saidbelow his breath, and turned away from her into the crowd.

  Chloris looked after him a moment with lids half dropped over herchangeless eyes.

  "The breath of the gods hath breathed upon him, and he understands. Oh,ay! he understands." She laughed, a silver tinkle which was not whollymirth. "Will it ever come to pass that Chloris, the greatly loving, willrejoice to know that there is one who pities her? We shall see!"

  But meanwhile affairs had changed on Thorney, even during the moments ofNicanor's speech with Chloris. The throng upon the beach, no longerorderly, was heaving with excitement. The Saxons, spreading in alldirections to search for their prisoner, were in no mood to care whatoffence they gave. They plucked brands from the fire, using them astorches, and started for the village, while men and women retreatedbefore them, not knowing how far trouble might ensue. But before theyreached the village, a body of militarii, hastily summoned, came forthfrom between the houses to meet them. The officer commanding them sprangupon a pile of lumber, shouting to the Saxons, who halted, as it wereirresolute.

  "While ye remain in this province it is right that ye should obey itslaws! If this Roman whom ye have taken hath committed crime against yourlaws or ours, let him be tried by these laws. Otherwise will we not givehim up to you. He is a freeborn Roman, and is not to be don
e away withas a slave. If ye make oath to grant him trial, we will deliver him untoyou."

  Ceawlin, the hot-headed young chieftain, pulled his long sword from itsbronze sheath, pointing with it to the figure upon the lumber-pile. Hisface flamed with red rage; he shook his sword and shouted to his menbehind him. There was a rush; before the Romans could prevent, a scoreof Saxons had leaped upon the pile, dragging down him who spoke; and thefirst blood on Thorney had been shed. It was the signal; like warringcurrents of the sea the two forces clashed. The beach was alive withfigures, struggling, shouting, or swaying in deadly silence in eachother's grip. Light flickered snakelike along uplifted blades which shotabove the sea of heads. It was a fight hand to hand, primitive, blindwith insensate rage, ever-smouldering, which wanted but the spark ofexcuse to flame into the full flare of battle. The resistance of themilitarii was speedily overcome; outnumbered, lacking their leader, theybroke and fled. The Saxons, with shouts of triumph, gave chase over thestony beach into the streets of the island, bent on the recapture oftheir prisoner, and on wreaking vengeance upon those who had daredoppose them.

  IX

  That night, in the house of Juncina the fish-wife, kneeled Eldris at thewindow of the loft where she slept, looking out upon the house-tops withher shoulders gleaming white through her loosened hair. Through thewindow moonlight drifted, showing the squalor of the loft, and the bedwhere Sosia, the daughter of Juncina, lay asleep.

  Into the night she murmured love-words, happy in her dreaming, callingto her love across the darkness.

  "Is he in the wine-shop of Nicodemus, or is he in the moonlight by thefords, telling his tales to those who crowd around him? Doth he think ofme, whose thoughts are all of him? Or have I angered himover-deeply?--for never have I seen him since that day I said him nay.Ah, Nicanor, was it love that said thee nay? This hour might I have beenlying in his arms, Love's happy handmaid--so happy! What if I hadyielded? I so want his love! What would God care? Mary, Mother, keep mefrom these thoughts! I would that I could see him now--this same moondoth shine upon him somewhere. Thou old moon, how many maids hast thoulooked down on since the beginning of the world, who have kneeled atwindows, and thought of a man, and been foolish?"

  Sosia, in the bed, awoke, turned on her back, and raised herself upon anelbow, showing her flat and heavy face above the blanket pulled to herchin. She spoke drowsily, in a voice thick with sleep:

  "Hath the moon bewitched thee quite? In truth I think thee off thy witswith love. All these nights hast thou been foolish, and waked me from mysleep. Wilt not come to bed, thou cruel girl?"

  Reluctantly Eldris undressed and got into bed beside Sosia, who sleptagain, heavily, with stertorous breathings. The night breeze blewfreshly in the window; from the village dogs barked, and the distantvoices of men reached her. Somewhere in that press was he, in the midstof the tide of hurrying life; and her heart went out to him.

  So she slept, deeply. Once or twice she tried to waken, as one strivesto rouse from dreams; but the black swoon of sleep held her fast; bodyand soul she was drowned in the soundless depths of oblivion. Butsuddenly she was awake, startled, and somewhat dazed. Her first thoughtwas wonder as to what had waked her; her next, that it was not so lateas she had thought, for the noise at the ford still continued. More, itseemed increased. And even in the first moment of full consciousnesswhich followed her waking daze, a sound grew out of all the noises ofthe village; a long mellow note, like the note of a deep-tonedhunting-horn, vibrant yet steady, filling every cranny of the air. Atonce she knew it was this that had awakened her. It hung a moment,sweet, unearthly, haunting; and dropped back into an outburst of fierceclamor that leaped at it as hounds leap at a stag. Eldris put out herhand and shook Sosia.

  "Sosia--waken! Dost hear that strange sound? What is it? Never have Iheard such a sound before."

  She scrambled out of bed and went to the window, her feet shining whiteon the rough floor. She saw other faces appear at other windows and atdoorways of dim hovels; there came black figures of men from lanesbetween the houses, running from the river-ford. The sharp clatter ofthe feet of a galloping horse clashed for a moment through other sounds.

  "It is but a drunken brawl," said Sosia, sitting on the bed, a blanketabout her bare shoulders. Her tone was indifferent; drunken brawls wereno new things on Thorney. "Come back to bed."

  "I think that something hath happened," said Eldris, and started todress. "Dress thyself quickly, Sosia, and let us go out to see. It isnot so late--the moon hath not left the window." This was true, althoughthe wide pool of light upon the floor had narrowed to a silver bar.

  But the room was lighted suddenly by a ruddy glare which leaped into itfrom without; a gust of voices swept beneath the window like the risingof a wind; there came the sound of many feet, as though a crowd hadgathered before the house; cries, and the rattle of weapons. AgainEldris ran to the window. She cried over her shoulder in a frightenedvoice:

  "Oh, blessed Peter! there be armed men entering all the houses in thelane! Haste thee, Sosia--let them not find thee naked here. I will godown and see--"

  Below, the voice of Juncina cried:

  "We harbor no fugitive here, I tell thee! Here be none but I and my twomaids!"

  Eldris, climbing down the ladder with hasty feet, saw that the room,fogged with gray smoke, was filled with half a score of men; saw Juncinastruggling in a corner, held by two; saw others overturning the scantyfurniture, slashing with their swords at fish-nets and bedding,thrusting their torches into every nook and corner. She would havestumbled up the ladder again out of their sight, but a shout told herthat she was seen. A great fellow seized her, dragging her from theladder; in his grasp she fluttered like a rag caught in a briar. Anotherpulled her from him; she was in the midst of mail-clad forms thattowered over her, drink-flushed faces, brutal with greed, that leereddown upon her, hairy hands that grasped at her. Her captor she eluded,and another, her breath coming in dry sobs of terror; at her desperatedoublings, like a frightened hare, their shouts of laughter told thatthe sport was very well to their liking. The doorway, close at hand,broken open and unguarded, offered a chance. She darted through it intothe night, into another world of terror, in which sinister sounds mether on every side.

  In a blind panic of fright she ran, thinking at every step to feel aheavy hand upon her; in the narrow lane she ran, jostled by those whofled beside her. Flames from burning houses threw their glare overfights which occurred in every street and lane, in which wounded men anddying crawled from beneath the feet of combatants into the shelter ofblack doorways. A band of horsemen galloped up the lane, overridingthose who crossed their path, with shouts of "Death to Britons!"

  Eldris saw them coming; saw the mouth of an alley black on one side, aslit between houses scarce wide enough for a horseman to ride through.She dived into it, stumbling now and again into the gutter whichchannelled it. She began to sob with fright and exhaustion as she ran.

  "Lord, let me find him, or I die of fear! He will save me--with himshall I be safe. Take me to him--let me find him, for my love isstronger than am I." Fear swept her from all the rationalities to whichshe had clung; out of the tumult and the terror in which she struggled,love rose like a wave and claimed her--the passion which was strongerthan she. God was very strong, without doubt; but without doubt also Hehad many souls to guard that night, and it was the strength of a man'sarm she wanted.

  So she reached the end of the alley where it opened into the street ofthe fords, and crouched behind the elbow of a rambling wall, looking outwarily, a hunted thing, to see if further faring might be safe.

  The broad paved street was lighted by flames from a house blazingfiercely opposite her; and figures ran to and fro before it like impsgone mad. Other figures there were also, which lay very still upon theroadway in the crimson light, with their black shadows crouched behindthem. There was a rending crackle from the heart of the fire, andshrieks and shouting from those around it; and under it all the dullroar from all Thorney which never cease
d. And quite suddenly Eldris knewthat she was listening to a sound that came out of the din around her,the sound of men's voices, singing in unison. In that hour and place itwas to her more dreadful, more a thing of terror, than even the crieswhich it was drowning. The voices came nearer; and at that in them, forall her fear, the blood thrilled through her to her finger-tips.

  For in them was the very spirit of the fight, of lust and blood andfierce exultant triumph; barbaric and pagan, they were reckless with apitiless pride which feared neither gods nor men nor devils. Eldriscrouched closer against the sheltering wall as though it had been asentient thing to aid her. So she saw a line of men, on foot,approaching; and the line reached from side to side of the wide street.Each man walked with arms across his fellows' shoulders; and their songkept time with their swift marching feet. The red light of the burninghouses fell upon them, on their reckless faces, and glinted on theirshirts of link-mail which clashed as they moved, on their crested capsof metal, and on the weapons which hung at their sides. They swept allbefore them as they came; plunderers left their work of outrage andslaughter and fell in with them, taking up their song. The first linepassed; and Eldris saw the reason of their triumph. For those in therear dragged with them a prisoner, a small man, battered and bloody,with one arm hanging in a torn sling. She could not see his face, buther heart turned to water within her. The song sickened her with anoverpowering sense of her own weakness against all that it signified ofbrutal male strength; it dominated her, and before it she shrank andshivered. But now her terror was not all for herself alone, but for thatone who might be also in their hands, prisoner to them even as was thispoor puppet prisoner. She started up, with a cry which was drowned inthe rhythm of the terrible song as ever the cries of women have beendrowned in the song of the fighting, and fell back in a huddle againstthe wall, with her face hidden on her knees, sobbing:

  "Christ--oh, Christ, save him! Mary, save him, or let me die with him!"

  When she found her way back to life, Thorney was wrapped in silence andillimitable gloom. The light of the burning houses had died; the shoutsof men and shrieks of women and the fierce song of the Saxons hadceased. Yet there were other sounds which grew out of the darkness asshe listened; a thin far wailing, like the ghost of grief, and close athand a man's deep voice, very low, broken by sobbing.

  "Soul of my heart, where art thou! All the night I have searched andcannot find thee, dead nor living. The curse of all evil be upon theseSaxon swine! They have slain her--my woman!--and she is dead! No morewill she lie beside me when the dark swims in the hut.--O light of mylife, could I but hear thee call me once again thy great ugly bear! Eh,thy bear is a sad bear this night, my lamb!"

  Eldris stumbled to her feet, covering her ears with her hands. She alsowas seeking and could not find. She started running from the dreadfulsobbing voice, picking her way as best she might in the wreck and ruinof the Saxons' trail.

  Long she searched, and everywhere met others, also seeking, and yetothers who had found what they had lost. Torches flashed in and out likefireflies among the darkened lanes; from houses left unscathed came thewailing of women who had brought home their dead. The air was heavy withsmoke, so that the eyes smarted and the throat stung.

  Into the face of every man who passed her she looked with eager eyes ofhope. Every man's body that lay in street or lane she hovered over withcaught breath and eyes of fear, nerving herself to stoop, to turn thedead weight that settled sullenly into itself as her hands left it; toscan the face by the light of her flaring torch. And the light showedher as ghastly as what she looked on; black hair streaming like smokebehind her, eyes wide with fear, pinched face glimmering pallid. Nojoyful handmaiden of Love looked she, going to love's embraces, rather awild thing, terror-ridden, possessed wholly by the frenzy of her love.Strange faces she looked on in her search among the living and the dead;bearded faces, boyish faces, but never that face she sought.

  To a dead man's side she flitted, like a spirit of the night; and on herknees, holding her torch to a face with light staring eyes and open jawsthat seemed still to shriek a last despairing curse at her, she caughther breath with a stifled scream. For the shock of thick hair, cut belowthe ears, was black and coarse; and the half-naked body, from which thetunic had been stripped, was long and lean. The torchlight cast quickshadows upon the fearful face; and sometimes to her eyes it was the faceof her love, who had died terribly, and sometimes it was the face of astranger. She began to shake.

  "I cannot tell--oh, God, I cannot tell!" she wailed. "Is my mind gone,that I should not know thee? I must know--how can I go further until Iknow?"

  With wild eyes she looked about her. She was in the open space of themarket-place,--alone, save for the thing at her feet, and for otherthings huddled here and there around her,--a silent battleground fromwhich the hosts had departed. The carcass of a horse lay near, and hertorch struck points of light from the metal of its trappings. A dog ranby her on padding feet, its fangs dripping, its tail between its legs.Eldris thrust the torch into the earth, that it might stand erect. Sheknelt beside that silent screaming figure, and the light flashed fromthe white bared teeth of the open mouth, and showed dark smears of bloodupon the face. She laid her hand on the shoulder, and the clammy cold ofthe dead flesh sent a spasm of sickness through her.

  "If it is thou I will kiss thee," she moaned. "I will lie upon thybreast and put my mouth to that mouth of thine. And I must findout--what if I should pass and leave thee here? God give me strength--Imust find out! Whose own mother could know him so?"

  She wiped blood from the face with the skirt of her tunic; she forcedthe stiffened jaws together, so that the horror took again the likenessto a human face; while her breath whistled in sobbing gasps and herflesh crept and crawled with horror. She bent and peered into the poorface that no longer seemed to scream at her, holding the jaws shut withtense and shaking hands. And then she sat back upon her heels with astrangled sob of relief and nerves far overwrought, wiping her handsfuriously upon her skirt and crying:

  "It is not thou! Dear Christ in heaven! it is not thou! How thou wiltlaugh when I tell thee, beloved--when I tell thee that a dead manscreamed at me and I thought him thee! How thou wilt laugh--and I shalllaugh with thee!"

  Sobbing, she began to laugh, a laughter strange and cracked like thelaugh of a very old woman, that mounted high and higher, welling fromher throat as blood wells from a wound; and rocked herself to and froand stared into the face of the dead stranger with wide eyes ofunreason....

  She took her torch and fled on, and the face that she had left behindseemed to scream its mockery with open jaws through the darkness afterher.

  X

  Nicanor was half way up the beach when the stationarius went down andhis men fell upon the Saxons. Instantly, nothing loath, he found himselfin the midst of the fighting. He was unarmed, save for his knife; sothat his first thought was to get within the length of the long swordsof those attacking him, since at close range, these, built forthrusting, were as good as useless. This was not easy to do, for theSaxons, despite their bulk, were light upon their feet, and wary to keeptheir opponents at sufficient distance. But twice he did it, each timeforcing his adversary to leave his sword-play and take to his dagger,the terrible seaxa which had won for the Saxons their name.

  He went into battle joyously, cool-eyed, alert, heart and soul in thework ahead; yet ever with that other self within him, which stood apartas a spectator in the arena, and watched through the smoke and crimsonlight of battle the faces of those who fought,--the fierce delight ofone, the black hate of another, red wounds, and the swift black swoop ofDeath. His heart sang its high song of triumph which his lips would fainhave echoed, of thanksgiving in the clean strength of his manhood, inthe power of his arm, which could uphold his own before all men. Hestooped to catch a sword from one who needed it no longer; and heard thesoft clashing of links of mail beside him and felt the breath of a greathorse that stirred his hair. Above him the voice of Ceawlin cried:


  "Thou tale-teller, thee I seek! This is thy work--that dead-eyed toad isgone, but it is thou shalt pay the price for him!"

  He straightened up, the sword in hand, a laugh upon his lips; and a boltof red fire entered into his side and seared him to the vitals. He fell;and the horse's tread jarred him and shook the world as it passed,spurred by its mail-clad rider with the blood-tinged spear.

  At first he fought to keep his hold on consciousness; knew that thefight surged over and around him, but with those who fought he seemedsuddenly to have no part nor lot. They faded into spectres, beingssomehow set apart from him, in whose affairs he no longer had concern.He lay quiet, his eyes closed, the red flower behind his ear, the redflower of his life staining the trampled sands on which he lay. Quitesuddenly he drifted into a gray empty world of twilight, in which hewandered seeking for what he did not know. He became aware, presently,that on the other side of this world, at the end of the road of Time,there was a little narrow door which would lead him into his Garden ofLost Dreams, and he thought that if he might reach it, all would be verywell with him. But across the world, from out the twilight, thereappeared a tiny point of light, ever growing, ever brighter. It cameupon him as a rolling ball of fire, and he turned and would have fledfrom it; but it enveloped him in rose-red light that burned andblinded, and he knew that it was Pain. It lapped over him like water; itshrivelled him, soul and body; it entered into the marrow of his bonesand twisted him in every joint and sinew. And suddenly he found his soulfollowing the fight into the streets of Thorney; he was plunged amid theslaughter, in the smoke of burning houses. Yet through it all he knew,with strange inner knowledge drawn from the deeps below consciousness,that his soul was in his body, lying quiet on the sands in the dark andmoonlight, and that the fight had passed him by.

  Out of the flame-shot darkness of his oblivion a sound came to him; andthe devil-lights that danced before his eyes ceased their wheeling tolisten--a bell, deep-throated, majestic, that tolled once, and out ofits sonorous, slow throbbing that lingered in the air, a voice intoning.

  "_Ave Maria, gratia plena._"

  The bell-note boomed again.

  "_Benedicta tu in mulieribus._"

  Again the heavy clanging shook the air.

  "_Sancta Maria, Mater Dei, ora pro nobis, Nunc et in hora mortis nostrae!_"

  The voice drifted from him; yet the air seemed alive with the vibrationsof the words. "_Ora pro nobis!_" Who was the Mary full of grace whocould pray for one, to whom one could call as men called upon the gods?Who but the Mother of Jesus, the Little Brother of the World, sweetcomrade of his black and bitter hour? He smiled as one who hears nameswell known and well beloved. "_Nunc et in hora mortis nostrae!_" Who wasthat mortal one for whom priests prayed in the silence before thedawning, for whom the hour of death was striking in the tolling of thebell? "In the hour of our death"--not one death only was prayed for, butall deaths. But then the words took upon themselves new and startlingmeaning. He knew that the hour had struck for him also in the greatbell's voice; was that prayer for his death among all others--for his,the pagan's? With sudden lonely longing he wished it might be so, as onewho starts upon a journey wishes for a friendly voice, a handclasp, forfarewell. Would Mary pray for him; would the Little Brother bring himsolace as in that bitter time before? If this were so, could not one godown into death, as one had gone through life, with a song upon hislips? What, after all, was death? For the first time the question ofLife was launched at him from the vastness of infinity; and he, pooratom of mortality, with his bright tongue and his groping heart, hislongings, his hopes and fears and ignorances, was called upon to answer.Was it full of terrors, the terrors at which men hinted and dared notspeak? He knew that he was not afraid. Was it lonely? He did not feelalone.

  But his thoughts were fluttering from him like birds rising from thegrass; slowly darkness closed above him, in which he struggled as adrowning man to keep his head above the waters. Again he stood upon theedge of the gray twilight land, and saw that something was coming tohim--a mist of light, cool and pure as pearl. It grew, and out of itthere looked down on him a face, young and fair and tender, with holyeyes. It was the face of his lost Lady, yet her face transfigured as hiseyes had never seen it,--the same and not the same. The mist grewbrighter and he saw that in her arms there lay a babe that leaned itshead against her breast and smiled at all the world. At once he knewthem for his Dream made manifest, and his face lightened to adoration.

  "O Best Beloved!" he whispered, "how mine eyes have hungered for thee inthe dark days that are gone over! My lips would sing unto thee even asmy heart is singing, but my tongue is black within my throat. I havefound that who would seek for peace must pass through pain, and whenpain hath ended, peace shall come. When therefore it cometh to my body,as it hath come upon my soul, then I shall sing my song to thee,--mysong, which thou and little Jesus did teach me how to make, I will singto-morrow when the moon shines on the fountains, in the garden."

  His voice died; he saw his Lady lean to him from her mist of rose andpearl; cool as the dews of morning he felt her hand upon his head. Verysoftly then his fever left him; love's touch soothed the red flame ofpain that ate his life away, as in the long ago love's touch had stilledthe bitter soul within him. He smiled happily, for that soul's pain andbody's pain had brought heart's peace. With no surprise, he knew that hehad found the answer.

  "I think it is the door of the garden," he said clearly.

  X

  A keen sweet wind blew over the world, first pure breath of the comingday, driving before it the reek of smoke and blood and death whichhovered over Thorney as a pall. A tinge of gray light diffused itselflike mist through the darkness; in this mist the forms of peoplewandered like dim restless ghosts seeking the graves from which thenight had called them. Out of the stillness which had succeeded to theturmoil of the night, cocks began to crow, a homely sound, as thoughthis dawning held no difference from the peaceful morn of yesterday. Theripples of the river woke, gurgling like a happy child that laughsitself out of dreams.

  Eldris came out upon the beach from between the rows of totteringhouses. She cast away her torch and stretched her hands to the east,where momently the earth was turning from black to gray, steeped in ahaze as of twilight, the strange half-light of dawn.

  "O day, come swiftly and give me back my own! I shall put my hands uponhis breast and say, 'Take me, for I am all, all thine and love's, andwhere thou goest there will I go also, for my God is love. I am onlywoman, and weak and very weary, and I love thee. Ah, dear God! I wouldleave heaven and all the angels for thine arms!' And he will take me inhis arms, and I shall fear nothing any more. O day, come swiftly!"

  Along the beach she hastened, light-footed, and came to the lumber-pile,with no more than a glance for the Roman soldier who lay upon it, hisduty done. And so, behind the lumber-pile, with but a strip of gray sandbetween his bed and the broad river, she found him, with the dawn-lightupon his face.

  As once before she had gone to him and knelt beside him as he slept, soshe thought to go to him again. But this time she would not fear to wakehim, for he, her lord, had called her, and her delight was to obey. Shehad come to yield herself his, body and soul forever, and in her facethe bridal joy outshone the bridal terror. She would do this and that;thought to play with her joy to taste the sweetness of its savor; butsuddenly all her thought was lost in the flood of love triumphant whichrose to overwhelm her. She ran forward, her arms outflung to him,crying:

  "Beloved, wake, for I am come to thee! All my soul is a flame of fire,and the fire is love which blindeth me to all in earth and heaven saveonly thee. Wilt thou not wake and take me?" On her knees she threwherself beside him.

  But he did not move, nor did he speak in answer.

  And even in the moment of her exaltation, Eldris understood. Her wordsbroke; an instant she knelt with arms outstretched above him; she ceasedto breathe, and her face froze into lines of stone. But suddenly shegave a cry, loud and sharp, and her h
ands fell upon him. Her eyes awokeinto living terror; with desperate fingers she strove to turn his facefurther to the light. At the weight of him she shook and shuddered; shehad felt that horrible dead weight before, that sullen settling intoitself of his bulk as her hands left it. In the gray light of the slowdawning she turned his face toward her, gray, and smiling, and still.She looked down upon him and put her hands to her throat.

  "I am glad, ay, glad, that thy mouth is not open and screaming at me!"she said aloud, in a dead voice.

  The sense of her words smote her, and she closed her eyes with along-drawn whispering moan.

  Again she looked at him, scarcely believing; and once more the floodoverwhelmed her. She wrung her hands and brought them down before herface.

  "Oh, God, is this Thy punishment for that I said my God was love? Verywell--punish Thou me, then--what canst Thou do that matters now?"

  Her voice faltered; she lowered her hands to stroke the hair from hispale forehead. She sat upon the sands and drew his heavy head to herknees, and her voice sank to the crooning of a woman with her man-childthat is dead.

  "I am too late--too late--too late! In mine ears was the wailing of thewomen in empty houses--how knew I that my voice must cry among them? Mylove, that liest so quiet at my knee, thou art gone very far from me,and all my tears and pleading may not call thee back. O pale lips sealedforever, all thy magic dumb within thee, give me of thy power that I maymourn my love! O wandering feet that have strayed in lands of brightenchantment, thou walkest in the dim paths of the twilight places, andI would that my feet might follow! O strong hands that have wrought thework of men, why dost thou not answer to the clinging of my fingers? Oheart that camest through bitter waters, was it good to rest? I and oldSorrow walk hand in hand; for the red flower of my lover's life which iswithered here, we shall cover him with lilies. The young men and themaidens shall walk softly; the old shall mourn him saying 'Eheu! it isnot well for the young to go before us.' And I--what is there that I maysay? Dead--dead--dead--and my heart is breaking--Ah! bitter woe is mine!O ye Elder Gods, would ye have been more kind than the One who hath tornhim from me?"

  She bent over him so that her tears fell warm upon his face and the veilof her hair shrouded him; she kissed his lips as though she wouldbreathe her own life into him.

  "This my bridal kiss I give thee, O Nicanor, O my dear!--here on thymouth, and thou canst never know--God have pity!--thou canst never know!Thy lips are cold--so cold--thou art all cold, and even my bosom may notwarm thee. My love, who didst die with a flower in thy hair and a smileupon thy lips, why is thy face so bright with triumph? Peace lieth uponthee as a garment.... O Nicanor, Nicanor, give me of thy peace!"

  There fell a voice upon her weeping:

  "My daughter, what dost thou here?"

  Thin-faced Father Ambrose stood before her, very gentle, very old, fromSaint Peter's Church within the wall. On his arm he bore a basket filledwith simple dressings; his brown frock, up-kilted, was stained withblood and mire. Perhaps all night he had done his work of mercy amongthe dying and the dead.

  "I have found him!" said Eldris. She swept back her hair with one arm,showing her sorrow.

  The priest knelt, touching here and there with skilful fingers.

  "Is it not he whom men called Nicanor? Nay, daughter, weep not sobitterly! Is it not the death he would have chosen, being man? We haveheard of him; we have seen that his power he hath striven to use forgood, so that many loved him; we have thought that in God's own time thelight would come upon him and he should be baptized into the Faith."

  But Eldris broke in fiercely:

  "Ye have heard--ye have seen--ye have thought--but can ye give him backto me? I knew not your God was a cruel God; ye have taught that He isthe Father of all mercy and all love. What mercy is there in this thatHe hath done? I am Christian, for I wished to seek love from that Godthat is thy God; and this my love did I try to make Christian also. Butsince God hath done this thing unto him and me, I am glad that he wasnot Christian and hath not gone to God!"

  Father Ambrose looked down upon her, smiling, and his face was holy.

  "I think he was a better Christian than art thou, dear child, eventhough he did not know it. Can one be Christian, for all he cries 'God,God!' if he have not Christ within his heart as well as on his lips?What is a Christian, save one who dealeth gently, liveth cleanly, givethof himself? And such an one, I think, whether he professeth all gods orno god, will our Father call 'my son.' Long have I lived, and very muchhave I seen, and I think that this is so."

  He paused. Eldris's sobbing alone made answer.

  "Daughter, thou sayest thou art glad he hath not gone to God. Lovinghim, wouldst thou not rather think of him with God than wandering lonelyin the outer darkness?"

  But Eldris flung out her hands with a bitter cry.

  "Nay--nay--oh, Lord Christ, not that! I cannot bear to think he wanderslonely, as all his life he hath been lonely--anything but that! Whathave I said--what have I done! Oh, father, father, he must not belonely! Pray thou that God will take him, even though he did not know!Dear God, let him into heaven--do not Thou be angered because he did notknow! Mary Mother, pity him and let him not be lonely any more!"

  She stretched her hands in desolate appeal over the still face at herknee. Father Ambrose gathered them into his.

  "God hath taken him, dear child," he said gently. "Out of his darknesshath he entered into light; and I think that it is well with him."

  A long time he looked down at the face that smiled in answer; at thelong lithe limbs whose strength was dust. From his basket he took a cup,and went aside and filled it with water from the river, and offered itto God. Returning, he knelt, and with the water signed the cross on thepale forehead and the broad pulseless breast.

  "So sign I and seal I thee with the Cross of Christ, that in His mercythy Lord may receive thy soul. 'Peace I leave with you, my peace I giveunto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.'" Heraised his hand, and Eldris dropped her face to the rough black hairand sobbed. "The Lord bless thee and keep thee. The Lord make His faceshine upon thee and be gracious unto thee. The Lord lift up Hiscountenance upon thee and give thee peace."

  His gentle voice ceased, and a moment the earth hung silent, awaitingthe mystery of the dawn. Then the red misty sun shot up over the hillson the east of Thorney, and the bright new day was come.

  THE END