Under the Witches' Moon: A Romantic Tale of Mediaeval Rome

by Nathan Gallizier

  CHAPTER III

  THE CRYSTAL SPHERE

  Outwardly and in daylight there was nothing noticeable about the sixthhouse in the Lane of the Sclavonians in Trastevere beyond the fact thatit was a dwelling of a superior kind to those immediately surroundingit, which were chiefly ill-favored cottages of fishermen and boatmen,and had about it an air of almost sombre retirement.

  It stood alone within a walled court, containing a few shrubs. Thewindows were few, high and narrow, and the front bore a ratherforbidding appearance. One ascending to the flat roof would have foundit to command on the left a desolate view of a square devoted toexecutions, and on the right a scarcely more cheerful prospect over thepremises belonging to the convent of Santa Maria in Trastevere. Hadthe visitor been farther able to penetrate into the principal chamberof the first floor, on the night of the scene about to be related, hemight indeed have found himself well repaid for his trouble.

  This chamber, which was of considerable size and altogether devoid ofwindows, being lighted during the daytime by a skylight, carefullyblinded from within, was now duskily illumined by a transparent deviceinlaid into the end wall and representing the beams of the rising moongleaming from a sky of azure. The extremity of the room, which frontedthe symbol, was semi-circular and occupied by a narrow table, beforewhich moved a tall, shadowy form that paused now and then before afire of fragrant sandal wood, which burned in a brazen tripod, passinghis fingers mechanically, as it would seem, through the bluish flame.In its unsteady flicker the strange figures on the walls, which haddefied the decree of Time, seemed to nod fantastically when touched bya fitful ray.

  This was Hormazd, the Persian, the former confidant and counsellor ofMarozia, in the heyday of her glory. In those days he had held forthin a turret chamber on the summit of Castel San Angelo, where he wouldread the stars and indulge his studies in the black arts to his heart'scontent. Driven forth by Alberic, after Marozia's fall, the Persian hadtaken up his abode in the Trastevere, where he continued to serve thosewho came to him for advice, or on business that shunned the light ofday.

  Now and then the Oriental bent his tall, spare form over a huge tomewhich lay open upon the table, the inscrutable, ascetic countenancewith the deep, brilliant eyes seemingly plunged in deep, engrossingthought, but in reality listening intently, as for the approach of somebelated caller.

  The soft patter of hurried footsteps on the floor of the corridorwithout soon rewarded his attention. The rustle of a woman's silkengarments caused him to give a start of surprise. A heavy curtain wasraised and she glided noiselessly into his presence.

  The woman's face was covered with a silken vizor, but her coronet ofraven hair no less than the matchless figure, outlined against thecrimson glow, at once proclaimed her rank.

  The first ceremony of silent greeting absolved, the Persian's visitorpermitted the black silken cloak which had enveloped her from head totoe, to fall away, revealing a form exquisitely proportioned. The ivorypallor of the throat, which rose like a marble column from matchlessshoulders, and the whiteness of the bare arms, seemed even enhanced bythe dusky background whose incense-laden pall seemed to oppress thevery walls.

  "I am trusting you to-night with unreserved confidence," the womanspoke in her rich, vibrant voice. "Many serve me from motives ofselfishness and fear. Do you serve me, because I trust you."

  She laid her white hand frankly upon his arm and the Persian, isolatedabove and below the strongest impulses of humanity, shivered under hertouch.

  "What is it you desire?" he questioned after a pause.

  "If you possess the knowledge with which the vulgar credit you," thewoman said slowly, not without an air of mockery in her tone, "I hardlyneed reveal to you the motives which prompted this visit! You knewthem, ere I came, even as you knew of my coming!"

  "You speak truly," said Hormazd slowly, now completely master ofhimself. "For even to the hour it was revealed to me!"

  The woman scanned him with a searching look.

  "Yet I had confided in none!" she said musingly. "Tell me then who Iam!"

  "You are Theodora!"

  "When have we met before?"--

  "Not in this life, but in a previous existence. Our souls touched then,predestined to cross each other on a future plane."

  She removed her silken vizor and faced him.

  The dark eyes at once challenged and besought. No sculptor could havechiselled those features on which a divinity had recklessly squanderedall it had to bestow for good or for evil. No painter could havereproduced the face which had wrought such havoc in the hearts of men.

  Like summer lightnings in a dark cloudbank, all the emotions of thehuman soul seemed to have played therein and left it again, forging itin the fires of passion, but leaving it more beautiful, more mysteriousthan before.

  The Oriental regarded her in silence, as she stood before him in theflickering flame of the brazier.

  "In some previous existence, you say?" she said with dreamy interest."Who was I then--and who were you?"

  "Two driftless spirits on the driftless sea of eternity," he repliedcalmly. "Foredoomed to continue our passage till our final destiny befulfilled."

  "And this destiny is known to you?"

  "Else I had watched in vain. But you--queen and sorceress--do youbelieve in the message?"

  She pondered.

  "I believe," she said slowly, "that we make for ourselves the destinyto which hereafter we must submit. I believe that some dark power canforetell that destiny, and more--compel it!"--

  Hormazd bowed ever so slightly. There was a dawning gleam of satire inhis brilliant eyes, a glimpse which was not lost on her.

  Again the question came.

  "What is it you desire?"

  Theodora gave an inscrutable smile that imparted to her features asingular softness and beauty, as a ray of sunlight falling on a darkpicture will brighten the tints with a momentary warmth of seeming life.

  "I was told," she spoke slowly, as if trying to overcome an inwarddread, "that you are known in Rome chiefly as being the possessor ofsome mysterious internal force which, though invisible, is manifest toall who place themselves under your spell! Is it not so?"

  The Persian bowed slightly.

  "It may be that I have furnished the Romans with something to talkabout besides the weather; that I have made a few friends, and anamazing number of enemies--"

  "The latter argues in your favor," Theodora interposed. "They say,furthermore, that by this same force you are enabled to disentangle theknots of perplexity that burden the overtaxed brain."

  Hormazd nodded again and the sinister gleam of his eyes did not escapeTheodora's watchful gaze.

  "If this be so," the woman continued, "if you are not an impostor whoexhibits his tricks for the delectation of the rabble, or for sordidgain--exert your powers upon me, for something, I know not what, hasfrozen up the once overflowing fountain of life."

  The Oriental regarded her intently.

  "You have the wish to be deluded--even into an imaginary happiness?"

  Theodora gave a start.

  "You have expressed what I but vaguely hinted. It may be that Iam tired"--she passed her hand across her brow with a troubledgesture--"or puzzled by some infinite distress of living things.Perchance I am going mad--who knows? But, whatever the cause, you,if report be true, possess the skill to ravish the mind away fromits trouble, to transport it to a radiant Elysium of illusions andecstasies. Do this for me, as you have done it for another, and,whatever payment you demand, it shall be yours!"

  She ceased.

  Faintly through the silence came the chimes of convent bells from theremote regions of the Aventine, pealing through the fragrant summernight above the deep boom of distant thunder that seemed to come asfrom the bowels of the earth.

  Hormazd gave his interrogator a swift, searching glance, half of pity,half of disdain.

  "The great eastern drug should serve your turn," he repliedsardonically. "I know of no other means wherewith
to stifle the voiceof conscience."

  Theodora flushed darkly.

  "Conscience?" she flashed in resentful accents.

  The Persian nodded.

  "There is such a thing. Do you profess to be without one?"

  Theodora's eyes endeavored to pierce the inscrutable mask before her.The ironical curtness of the question annoyed her.

  "Your opinion of me does little honor to your wisdom," she said after apause.

  "A foul wound festers equally beneath silk and sack-cloth," came thedark reply.

  "How know you that I desire relief from this imaginary malady?"

  The Oriental gave a shrug.

  "Why does Theodora come to the haunts of the Persian? Why does she askhim to mock and delude her, as if it were his custom to make dupes ofthose who appeal to him?"

  "And are they not your dupes?" Theodora interposed, her face a deeperpallor than before.

  "Of that you shall judge after I have answered your questions," Hormazdreturned darkly. "There are but two things in life that will prompt awoman like Theodora to seek aid of one like myself."--

  "You arouse my curiosity!"

  "Disappointment in power--or love!"

  There was a silence.

  "Will you help me?"

  She was pleading now.

  The Oriental sparred for time. It was not his purpose to commit himselfat once.

  "I am but one who, long severed from the world, has long recognizedits vanities. My cures are for the body rather than the soul."

  Theodora's face hardened into an expression of scorn.

  "Am I to understand that you will do nothing for me?" she said in atone which convinced the Persian that the time for dallying was past.

  The words came slowly from his lips.

  "I can promise you neither self-oblivion nor visionary joys. I possessan internal force, it is true, a force which, under proper control,overpowers and subdues the material, and by exerting this I can, ifI think it well to do so, release your soul, that inner intelligencewhich, deprived of its mundane matter, is yourself, from its house ofclay and allow it a brief interval of freedom. But--what in that stateits experience may be, whether joy or sorrow, I cannot foretell."

  "Then you are not the master of the phantoms you evoke?"

  "I am merely their interpreter!"

  She looked at him steadfastly as if pondering his words.

  "And you profess to be able to release the soul from its abode of clay?"

  "I do not profess," he said quietly. "I can do so!"

  "And with the success of this experiment your power ceases? You cannottell whether the imprisoned creature will take its course to thenetherworld of suffering, or a heaven of delight?"

  "The liberated soul must shift for itself."

  "Then begin your incantations," Theodora exclaimed recklessly. "Sendme, no matter where, so long as I escape from this den of the world,this dungeon with one small window through which, with the death rattlein our throats, we stare vacantly at the blank, unmeaning horror oflife. Prove to me that the soul you prattle of exists, and if mine canfind its way straight to the mainsprings of this revolving creation, itshall cling to the accursed wheels and stop them, that they may grindout the torture of life no more."

  She stood there, dark, defiant, beautiful with the beauty of the fallenangel. Her breath came and went quickly. She seemed to challenge someinvisible opponent.

  The tall sinewy form by her side watched her as a physician might watchin his patient the workings of a new disease, then Hormazd said in lowand tranquil tones:

  "You are in the throes of your own overworked emotions. You are seekingto obtain the impossible--"

  "Why taunt me?" she flashed. "Cannot your art supply the secret inwhose quest I am?"

  The Persian bowed, but kept silent.

  Again, with the shifting mood, the rare, half-mournful smile shone inTheodora's face.

  "Though you may not be conscious of it," she said, laying her whitehand on his trembling arm, "something impels me to unburden my heart toyou. I have kept silence long."

  Hormazd nodded.

  "In the world one must always keep silence, veil one's grief and forcea smile with the rest. Is it not lamentable to think of all the pent-upsuffering, the inconceivably hideous agonies that remain foreverunrevealed? Youth and innocence--"

  Theodora raised her arm.

  "Was I ever--what they call--innocent?" she interposed musingly. "WhenI was young--alas, how long it seems, though I am but thirty--the dreamof my life was love! Perchance I inherited it from my mother. She was aGreek, and she possessed that subtle quality that can never die. What Iwas--it matters not. What I am--you know!"

  She raised herself to her full height.

  "I long for power. Men are my puppets. And I long for love! I havesought it in all shapes, in every guise. But I found it not. Onlydisillusion--disappointment have been my share. Will my one desire beever fulfilled?"

  "Some day you shall know," he said quietly, keeping his dark gaze uponher.

  "I doubt me not I shall! But--when and where? Tell me then, you whoknow so much! When and where?"

  Hormazd regarded her quizzically, but made no immediate reply.

  After a time she continued.

  "Some say you are the devil's servant! Show me then your power. Readfor me my fate!"

  She looked at him with an air of challenge.

  "It was not for this you came," the Persian said calmly, meeting thegaze of those mysterious wells of light whose appeal none had yetresisted whom she wished to bend to her desires.

  The woman turned a shade more pale.

  "Then call it a whim!"

  "What will it avail?"

  Her eyes flashed.

  "My will against--that other."

  A flash of lightning was reflected on the dark walls of the chamber.The thunder rolled in grand sullen echoes down the heavens.

  She heard it not.

  "What are you waiting for?" she turned to Hormazd.

  There was a note of impatience in her tone.

  "You are of to-day--yet not of to-day! Not of yesterday, nor to-morrow.To some in time comes love--"

  "But to me?"

  His voice sank to a frozen silence.

  She stood, gazing at him steadily. She was very pale, but the smile ofchallenge still lingered on her lips.

  "But to me?" she repeated.

  He regarded her darkly.

  "To you? Who knows?--Some day--"

  "Ah! When my fate has chanced! Are you a cheat then, like the rest?"

  He was silent, as one in the throes of some great emotion. She took astep towards him. He raised both hands as if to ward her off. His eyessaw shapes and scenes not within the reach of other's ken.

  "Tell me the truth," she said calmly. "You cannot deceive me!"

  Hormazd sprinkled the cauldron with some white powder that seethed andhissed as it came in contact with the glowing metal and began to emit adense smoke, which filled the interior of the chamber with a strange,pungent odor.

  Then he slowly raised one hand until it touched Theodora. Dauntlessin spirit, her body was taken by surprise, and as his clammy fingersclosed round her own she gave an involuntary start. With a compellingglance, still in silence, he looked into her face.

  A strange transformation seemed to take place.

  She was no longer in the chamber, but in a grove dark with trees andshrubbery. A dense pall seemed to obscure the skies. The atmosphere wasbreathless. Even as she looked he was no longer there. Great clouds ofgreenish vapor rolled in through the trees and enveloped her so utterlyas to shut out all vision. It was as if she were alone in some isolatedspot, far removed from the ken of man. She was conscious of nothingsave the insistent touch of his hand upon her arm.

  Gradually, as she peered into the vapors, they seemed to condensethemselves into a definite shape. It was that of a man coming towardsher, but some invisible agency seemed ever to retard his approach. Infact the distance seemed not to l
essen, and suddenly she saw her ownself standing by, vainly straining her gaze into space, indescribablelonging in her eyes.

  A flash of lightning that seemed to rend the vault of heaven wasfollowed by so terrific a peal of thunder that it seemed to shake thevery earth.

  A shriek broke from Theodora's lips.

  "It is he! It is he!" she cried pointing to the curtain. Hormazdturned, hardly less amazed than the woman. He distinctly saw, in therecurrent flash, a face, pale and brooding, framed by the darkness, ofwhich it seemed a part.

  At the next moment it was gone, as if it had melted into air.

  Theodora's whole body was numb, as if every nerve had been paralyzed.The Persian was hardly less agitated.

  "Is it enough?" she heard Hormazd's deep voice say beside her.

  She turned, but, though straining her eyes, she could not see him. Theflame in the tripod had died down. She was trembling from head to foot.

  But her invincible will was unshaken.

  "Nay," she said, and her voice still mocked. "Having seen the man mysoul desires, I must know more. The end! I have not seen the end! ShallI possess him? Speak!"

  "Seek no more!" warned the voice by her side. "Seek not to know theend!"

  She raised herself defiantly.

  "The end!"

  He made no reply. She saw the white vapors forming into faces. The hourand the place of the last vision were not clear. She saw but the manand herself, standing together at some strange point, where time seemedto count for naught.

  Between them lay a scarf of blue samite.

  After a protracted silence a moan broke from Theodora's lips.

  The Persian took no heed thereof. He did not even seem to hear. But,beneath those half-closed lids, not a movement of the woman escaped hispenetrating gaze. Though possessed with a vague assurance of his owndark powers, controlled by his nerve and coolness, Hormazd could readin that fair, inscrutable face far more than in the magic scrolls.

  And as he scanned it now, from under half-shut lids, it was fixed andrigid as marble, pale, too, with an unearthly whiteness. She seemed tohave forgotten his presence. She seemed to look into space, yet even ashe gazed, the expression of that wonderfully fair face changed.

  Theodora's eyes were fierce, her countenance bore a rigid expression,bright, cold, unearthly, like one who defies and subdues mortal pain.

  The tools of love and ambition are sharp and double-edged, and Hormazdknew it was safer to trust to wind and waves than to the whims of woman.

  But already her mood had changed and her face had resumed its habitualexpression of inscrutable repose.

  "Is it the gods or the devil who sway and torture us and mock at ourhelplessness?" she turned to the Oriental, then, without waiting hisreply, she concluded with a searching glance that seemed to read hisvery heart.

  "Report speaks true of you. Unknowingly, unwittingly you have pointedthe way. Farewell!"

  Long after she had disappeared Hormazd stared at the spot where herswiftly retiring form had been engulfed by the darkness. Then, weighingthe purse, which she had left as an acknowledgment of his services, andfinding it sufficiently heavy to satisfy his avarice, the Persian stoodfor a time wrapped in deep thoughts.

  "That phantom at least I could not evoke!" he muttered to himself. "Whodares to cross the path of Hormazd?"

  The thunder seemed to answer, for a crash that seemed to split theseven hills asunder caused the house to rock as with the force of anearthquake.

  With a shudder the Persian extinguished the fire in the brazier andretreated to his chamber, while outside thunder and lightning and rainlashed the summer night with the force of a tropical hurricane.