XI
THE HOME-COMING
In the spring of the year 528, a small brig used to run as a passengerboat between Chalcedon on the Asiatic shore and Constantinople. On themorning in question, which was that of the feast of Saint George, thevessel was crowded with excursionists who were bound for the great cityin order to take part in the religious and festive celebrations whichmarked the festival of the Megalo-martyr, one of the most choiceoccasions in the whole vast hagiology of the Eastern Church. The day wasfine and the breeze light, so that the passengers in their holiday moodwere able to enjoy without a qualm the many objects of interest whichmarked the approach to the greatest and most beautiful capital in theworld.
On the right, as they sped up the narrow strait, there stretched theAsiatic shore, sprinkled with white villages and with numerous villaspeeping out from the woods which adorned it. In front of them, thePrince's Islands, rising as green as emeralds out of the deep sapphireblue of the Sea of Marmora, obscured for the moment the view of thecapital. As the brig rounded these, the great city burst suddenly upontheir sight, and a murmur of admiration and wonder rose from the crowdeddeck. Tier above tier it rose, white and glittering, a hundred brazenroofs and gilded statues gleaming in the sun, with high over all themagnificent shining cupola of Saint Sophia. Seen against a cloudlesssky, it was the city of a dream--too delicate, too airily lovely forearth.
In the prow of the small vessel were two travellers of singularappearance. The one was a very beautiful boy, ten or twelve years ofage, swarthy, clear-cut, with dark, curling hair and vivacious blackeyes, full of intelligence and of the joy of living. The other was anelderly man, gaunt-faced and grey-bearded, whose stern features were litup by a smile as he observed the excitement and interest with which hisyoung companion viewed the beautiful distant city and the many vesselswhich thronged the narrow strait.
"See! see!" cried the lad. "Look at the great red ships which sail outfrom yonder harbour. Surely, your holiness, they are the greatest of allships in the world."
The old man, who was the abbot of the monastery of Saint Nicephorus inAntioch, laid his hand upon the boy's shoulder.
"Be wary, Leon, and speak less loudly, for until we have seen yourmother we should keep ourselves secret. As to the red galleys they areindeed as large as any, for they are the Imperial ships of war, whichcome forth from the harbour of Theodosius. Round yonder green point isthe Golden Horn, where the merchant ships are moored. But now, Leon, ifyou follow the line of buildings past the great church, you will see along row of pillars fronting the sea. It marks the Palace of theCaesars."
The boy looked at it with fixed attention. "And my mother is there," hewhispered.
"Yes, Leon, your mother the Empress Theodora and her husband the greatJustinian dwell in yonder palace."
The boy looked wistfully up into the old man's face.
"Are you sure, Father Luke, that my mother will indeed be glad to seeme?"
The abbot turned away his face to avoid those questioning eyes.
"We cannot tell, Leon. We can only try. If it should prove that there isno place for you, then there is always a welcome among the brethren ofSaint Nicephorus."
"Why did you not tell my mother that we were coming, Father Luke? Whydid you not wait until you had her command?"
"At a distance, Leon, it would be easy to refuse you. An Imperialmessenger would have stopped us. But when she sees you, Leon--your eyes,so like her own, your face, which carries memories of one whom sheloved--then, if there be a woman's heart within her bosom, she will takeyou into it. They say that the Emperor can refuse her nothing. They haveno child of their own. There is a great future before you, Leon. When itcomes, do not forget the poor brethren of Saint Nicephorus, who took youin when you had no friend in the world."
The old abbot spoke cheerily, but it was easy to see from his anxiouscountenance that the nearer he came to the capital the more doubtfuldid his errand appear. What had seemed easy and natural from the quietcloisters of Antioch became dubious and dark now that the golden domesof Constantinople glittered so close at hand. Ten years before, awretched woman, whose very name was an offence throughout the easternworld, where she was as infamous for her dishonour as famous for herbeauty, had come to the monastery gate, and had persuaded the monks totake charge of her infant son, the child of her shame. There he had beenever since. But she, Theodora, the harlot, returning to the capital, hadby the strangest turn of fortune's wheel caught the fancy and finallythe enduring love of Justinian the heir to the throne. Then on the deathof his uncle Justin, the young man had become the greatest monarch uponthe earth, and raised Theodora to be not only his wife and Empress, butto be absolute ruler with powers equal to and independent of his own.And she, the polluted one, had risen to the dignity, had cut herselfsternly away from all that related to her past life, and had shown signsalready of being a great Queen, stronger and wiser than her husband,but fierce, vindictive, and unbending, a firm support to her friends,but a terror to her foes. This was the woman to whom the Abbot Luke ofAntioch was bringing Leon, her forgotten son. If ever her mind strayedback to the days when, abandoned by her lover Ecebolus, the Governor ofthe African Pentapolis, she had made her way on foot through Asia Minor,and left her infant with the monks, it was only to persuade herself thatthe brethren cloistered far from the world would never identify Theodorathe Empress with Theodora the dissolute wanderer, and that the fruits ofher sin would be for ever concealed from her Imperial husband.
The little brig had now rounded the point of the Acropolis, and the longblue stretch of the Golden Horn lay before it. The high wall ofTheodosius lined the whole harbour, but a narrow verge of land had beenleft between it and the water's edge to serve as a quay. The vessel ranalongside near the Neorion Gate, and the passengers, after a shortscrutiny from the group of helmeted guards who lounged beside it, wereallowed to pass through into the great city.
The abbot, who had made several visits to Constantinople upon thebusiness of his monastery, walked with the assured step of one who knowshis ground; while the boy, alarmed and yet pleased by the rush ofpeople, the roar and clatter of passing chariots, and the vista ofmagnificent buildings, held tightly to the loose gown of his guide,while staring eagerly about him in every direction. Passing through thesteep and narrow streets which led up from the water, they emerged intothe open space which surrounds the magnificent pile of Saint Sophia, thegreat church begun by Constantine, hallowed by Saint Chrysostom, and nowthe seat of the Patriarch, and the very centre of the Eastern Church.Only with many crossings and genuflections did the pious abbot succeedin passing the revered shrine of his religion, and hurried on to hisdifficult task.
Having passed Saint Sophia, the two travellers crossed the marble-pavedAugusteum, and saw upon their right the gilded gates of the hippodromethrough which a vast crowd of people was pressing, for though themorning had been devoted to the religious ceremony, the afternoon wasgiven over to secular festivities. So great was the rush of thepopulace that the two strangers had some difficulty in disengagingthemselves from the stream and reaching the huge arch of black marblewhich formed the outer gate of the palace. Within they were fiercelyordered to halt by a gold-crested and magnificent sentinel who laid hisshining spear across their breasts until his superior officer shouldgive them permission to pass. The abbot had been warned, however, thatall obstacles would give way if he mentioned the name of Basil theeunuch, who acted as chamberlain of the palace and also asParakimomen--a high office which meant that he slept at the door of theImperial bed-chamber. The charm worked wonderfully, for at the mentionof that potent name the Protosphathaire, or Head of the Palace Guards,who chanced to be upon the spot, immediately detached one of hissoldiers with instructions to convoy the two strangers into the presenceof the chamberlain.
Passing in succession a middle guard and an inner guard, the travellerscame at last into the palace proper, and followed their majestic guidefrom chamber to chamber, each more wonderful than the last. Marbles andgold, ve
lvet and silver, glittering mosaics, wonderful carvings, ivoryscreens, curtains of Armenian tissue and of Indian silk, damask fromArabia, and amber from the Baltic--all these things merged themselves inthe minds of the two simple provincials, until their eyes ached andtheir senses reeled before the blaze and the glory of this, the mostmagnificent of the dwellings of man. Finally, a pair of curtains,crusted with, gold, were parted, and their guide handed them over to anegro eunuch who stood within. A heavy, fat, brown-skinned man, with alarge, flabby, hairless face, was pacing up and down the smallapartment, and he turned upon them as they entered with an abominableand threatening smile. His loose lips and pendulous cheeks were those ofa gross old woman, but above them there shone a pair of dark malignanteyes, full of fierce intensity of observation and judgment.
"You have entered the palace by using my name," he said. "It is one ofmy boasts that any of the populace can approach me in this way. But itis not fortunate for those who take advantage of it without due cause."Again he smiled a smile which made the frightened boy cling tightly tothe loose serge skirts of the abbot.
But the ecclesiastic was a man of courage. Undaunted by the sinisterappearance of the great chamberlain, or by the threat which lay in hiswords, he laid his hand upon his young companion's shoulder and facedthe eunuch with a confident smile.
"I have no doubt, your excellency," said he, "that the importance of mymission has given me the right to enter the palace. The only thing whichtroubles me is whether it may not be so important as to forbid me frombroaching it to you, or indeed, to anybody save the Empress Theodora,since it is she only whom it concerns."
The eunuch's thick eyebrows bunched together over his vicious eyes.
"You must make good those words," he said. "If my gracious master--theever-glorious Emperor Justinian--does not disdain to take me into hismost intimate confidence in all things, it would be strange if therewere any subject within your knowledge which I might not hear. You are,as I gather from your garb and bearing, the abbot of some Asiaticmonastery?"
"You are right, your excellency, I am the Abbot of the Monastery of St.Nicephorus in Antioch. But I repeat that I am assured that what I haveto say is for the ear of the Empress Theodora only."
The eunuch was evidently puzzled, and his curiosity aroused by the oldman's persistence. He came nearer, his heavy face thrust forward, hisflabby brown hands, like two sponges, resting upon the table of yellowjasper before him.
"Old man," said he, "there is no secret which concerns the Empress whichmay not be told to me. But if you refuse to speak, it is certain thatyou will never see her. Why should I admit you, unless I know yourerrand? How should I know that you are not a Manichean heretic with aponiard in your bosom, longing for the blood of the mother of theChurch?"
The abbot hesitated no longer. "If there be a mistake in the matter,then on your head be it," said he. "Know then that this lad Leon is theson of Theodora the Empress, left by her in our monastery within a monthof his birth ten years ago. This papyrus which I hand you will show youthat what I say is beyond all question or doubt."
The eunuch Basil took the paper, but his eyes were fixed upon the boy,and his features showed a mixture of amazement at the news that he hadreceived, and of cunning speculation as to how he could turn it toprofit.
"Indeed, he is the very image of the Empress," he muttered; and then,with sudden suspicion, "Is it not the chance of this likeness which hasput the scheme into your head, old man?"
"There is but one way to answer that," said the abbot. "It is to ask theEmpress herself whether what I say is not true, and to give her the gladtidings that her boy is alive and well."
The tone of confidence, together with the testimony of the papyrus, andthe boy's beautiful face, removed the last shadow of doubt from theeunuch's mind. Here was a great fact; but what use could be made of it?Above all, what advantage could he draw from it? He stood with his fatchin in his hand, turning it over in his cunning brain.
"Old man," said he at last, "to how many have you told this secret?"
"To no one in the whole world," the other answered. "There is DeaconBardas at the monastery and myself. No one else knows anything."
"You are sure of this?"
"Absolutely certain."
The eunuch had made up his mind. If he alone of all men in the palaceknew of this event, he would have a powerful hold over his masterfulmistress. He was certain that Justinian the Emperor knew nothing ofthis. It would be a shock to him. It might even alienate his affectionsfrom his wife. She might care to take precautions to prevent him fromknowing. And if he, Basil the eunuch, was her confederate in thoseprecautions, then how very close it must draw him to her. All thisflashed through his mind as he stood, the papyrus in his hand, lookingat the old man and the boy.
"Stay here," said he. "I will be with you again." With a swift rustle ofhis silken robes he swept from the chamber.
A few minutes had elapsed when a curtain at the end of the room waspushed aside, and the eunuch, reappearing, held it back, doubling hisunwieldy body into a profound obeisance as he did so. Through the gapcame a small alert woman, clad in golden tissue, with a loose outermantle and shoes of the Imperial purple. That colour alone showed thatshe could be none other than the Empress; but the dignity of hercarriage, the fierce authority of her magnificent dark eyes, and theperfect beauty of her haughty face, all proclaimed that it could only bethat of Theodora who, in spite of her lowly origin, was the mostmajestic as well as the most maturely lovely of all the women in herkingdom. Gone now were the buffoon tricks which the daughter of Acaciusthe bearward had learned in the amphitheatre; gone too was the lightcharm of the wanton, and what was left was the worthy mate of a greatking, the measured dignity of one who was every inch an empress.
Disregarding the two men, Theodora walked up to the boy, placed her twowhite hands upon his shoulders, and looked with a long questioning gaze,a gaze which began with hard suspicion and ended with tenderrecognition, into those large lustrous eyes which were the veryreflection of her own. At first the sensitive lad was chilled by thecold intent question of the look; but as it softened, his own spiritresponded, until suddenly, with a cry of "Mother! Mother!" he casthimself into her arms, his hands locked round her neck, his face buriedin her bosom. Carried away by the sudden natural outburst of emotion,her own arms tightened round the lad's figure, and she strained him foran instant to her heart. Then, the strength of the Empress gaininginstant command over the temporary weakness of the mother, she pushedhim back from her, and waved that they should leave her to herself. Theslaves in attendance hurried the two visitors from the room. Basil theeunuch lingered, looking down at his mistress, who had thrown herselfupon a damask couch, her lips white and her bosom heaving with thetumult of her emotion. She glanced up and met the chancellor's craftygaze, her woman's instinct reading the threat that lurked within it.
"I am in your power," she said. "The Emperor must never know of this."
"I am your slave," said the eunuch, with his ambiguous smile. "I am aninstrument in your hand. If it is your will that the Emperor shouldknow nothing, then who is to tell him?"
"But the monk, the boy. What are we to do?"
"There is only one way for safety," said the eunuch.
She looked at him with horrified eyes. His spongy hands were pointingdown to the floor. There was an underground world to this beautifulpalace, a shadow that was ever close to the light, a region of dimly-litpassages, of shadowed corners, of noiseless, tongueless slaves, ofsudden sharp screams in the darkness. To this the eunuch was pointing.
A terrible struggle rent her breast. The beautiful boy was hers, fleshof her flesh, bone of her bone. She knew it beyond all question ordoubt. It was her one child, and her whole heart went out to him. ButJustinian! She knew the Emperor's strange limitations. Her career in thepast was forgotten. He had swept it all aside by special Imperial decreepublished throughout the Empire, as if she were new-born through thepower of his will, and her association with his person. But they
werechildless, and this sight of one which was not his own would cut him tothe quick. He could dismiss her infamous past from his mind, but if ittook the concrete shape of this beautiful child, then how could he waveit aside as if it had never been? All her instincts and her intimateknowledge of the man told her that even her charm and her influencemight fail under such circumstances to save her from ruin. Her divorcewould be as easy to him as her elevation had been. She was balanced upona giddy pinnacle, the highest in the world, and yet the higher thedeeper the fall. Everything that earth could give was now at her feet.Was she to risk the losing of it all--for what? For a weakness which wasunworthy of an Empress, for a foolish new-born spasm of love, for thatwhich had no existence within her in the morning? How could she be sofoolish as to risk losing such a substance for such a shadow?
"Leave it to me," said the brown watchful face above her.
"Must it be--death?"
"There is no real safety outside. But if your heart is too merciful,then by the loss of sight and speech----"
She saw in her mind the white-hot iron approaching those glorious eyes,and she shuddered at the thought.
"No, no! Better death than that!"
"Let it be death then. You are wise, great Empress, for there only isreal safety and assurance of silence."
"And the monk?"
"Him also."
"But the Holy Synod! He is a tonsured priest. What would the Patriarchdo?"
"Silence his babbling tongue. Then let them do what they will. How arewe of the palace to know that this conspirator, taken with a dagger inhis sleeve, is really what he says?"
Again she shuddered and shrank down among the cushions.
"Speak not of it, think not of it," said the eunuch. "Say only that youleave it in my hands. Nay, then, if you cannot say it, do but nod yourhead, and I take it as your signal."
In that instant there flashed before Theodora's mind a vision of all herenemies, of all those who envied her rise, of all whose hatred andcontempt would rise into a clamour of delight could they see thedaughter of the bearward hurled down again into that abyss from whichshe had been dragged. Her face hardened, her lips tightened, her littlehands clenched in the agony of her thought.
"Do it!" she said.
In an instant, with a terrible smile, the messenger of death hurriedfrom the room. She groaned aloud, and buried herself yet deeper amid thesilken cushions, clutching them frantically with convulsed and twitchinghands.
The eunuch wasted no time, for this deed, once done, he became--save forthat insignificant monk in Asia Minor, whose fate would soon besealed--the only sharer of Theodora's secret, and therefore the onlyperson who could curb and bend that imperious nature. Hurrying into thechamber where the visitors were waiting, he gave a sinister signal, onlytoo well known in those iron days. In an instant the black mutes inattendance seized the old man and the boy, pushing them swiftly down apassage and into a meaner portion of the palace, where the heavy smellof luscious cooking proclaimed the neighbourhood of the kitchens. A sidecorridor led to a heavily-barred iron door, and this in turn opened upona steep flight of stone steps, feebly illuminated by the glimmer ofwall lamps. At the head and foot stood a mute sentinel like an ebonystatue, and below, along the dusky and forbidding passages from whichthe cells opened, a succession of niches in the wall were occupied by asimilar guardian. The unfortunate visitors were dragged brutally down anumber of stone-flagged and dismal corridors until they descendedanother long stair which led so deeply into the earth that the dampfeeling in the heavy air and the drip of water all round showed thatthey had come down to the level of the sea. Groans and cries, like thoseof sick animals, from the various grated doors which they passed showedhow many there were who spent their whole lives in this humid andpoisonous atmosphere.
At the end of this lowest passage was a door which opened into a singlelarge vaulted room. It was devoid of furniture, but in the centre was alarge and heavy wooden board clamped with iron. This lay upon a rudestone parapet, engraved with inscriptions beyond the wit of the easternscholars, for this old well dated from a time before the Greeks foundedByzantium, when men of Chaldea and Ph[oe]nicia built with hugeunmortared blocks, far below the level of the town of Constantine. Thedoor was closed, and the eunuch beckoned to the slaves that they shouldremove the slab which covered the well of death. The frightened boyscreamed and clung to the abbot, who, ashy-pale and trembling, waspleading hard to melt the heart of the ferocious eunuch.
"Surely, surely, you would not slay the innocent boy!" he cried. "Whathas he done? Was it his fault that he came here? I alone--I and DeaconBardas--are to blame. Punish us, if some one must indeed be punished. Weare old. It is to-day or to-morrow with us. But he is so young and sobeautiful, with all his life before him. Oh, sir! oh, your excellency,you would not have the heart to hurt him!"
He threw himself down and clutched at the eunuch's knees, while the boysobbed piteously and cast horror-stricken eyes at the black slaves whowere tearing the wooden slab from the ancient parapet beneath. The onlyanswer which the chamberlain gave to the frantic pleadings of the abbotwas to take a stone which lay on the coping of the well and toss it in.It could be heard clattering against the old, damp, mildewed walls,until it fell with a hollow boom into some far distant subterraneanpool. Then he again motioned with his hands, and the black slaves threwthemselves upon the boy and dragged him away from his guardian. Soshrill was his clamour that no one heard the approach of the Empress.With a swift rush she had entered the room, and her arms were round herson.
"It shall not be! It cannot be!" she cried. "No, no, my darling! mydarling! they shall do you no hurt. I was mad to think of it--mad andwicked to dream of it. Oh, my sweet boy! to think that your mother mighthave had your blood upon her head!"
The eunuch's brows were gathered together at this failure of his plans,at this fresh example of feminine caprice.
"Why kill them, great lady, if it pains your gracious heart?" said he."With a knife and a branding-iron they can be disarmed for ever."
She paid no attention to his words. "Kiss me, Leon!" she cried. "Justonce let me feel my own child's soft lips rest upon mine. Now again! No,no more, or I shall weaken for what I have still to say and still todo. Old man, you are very near a natural grave, and I cannot think fromyour venerable aspect that words of falsehood would come readily to yourlips. You have indeed kept my secret all these years, have you not?"
"I have in very truth, great Empress. I swear to you by SaintNicephorus, patron of our house, that save old Deacon Bardas, there isnone who knows."
"Then let your lips still be sealed. If you have kept faith in the past,I see no reason why you should be a babbler in the future. And you,Leon"--she bent her wonderful eyes with a strange mixture of sternnessand of love upon the boy, "can I trust you? Will you keep a secret whichcould never help you, but would be the ruin and downfall of yourmother?"
"Oh, mother, I would not hurt you! I swear that I will be silent."
"Then I trust you both. Such provision will be made for your monasteryand for your own personal comforts as will make you bless the day youcame to my palace. Now you may go. I wish never to see you again. If Idid, you might find me in a softer mood, or in a harder, and the onewould lead to my undoing, the other to yours. But if by whisper orrumour I have reason to think that you have failed me, then you and yourmonks and your monastery will have such an end as will be a lesson forever to those who would break faith with their Empress."
"I will never speak," said the old abbot; "neither will Deacon Bardas;neither will Leon. For all three I can answer. But there areothers--these slaves, the chancellor. We may be punished for another'sfault."
"Not so," said the Empress, and her eyes were like flints. "These slavesare voiceless; nor have they any means to tell those secrets which theyknow. As to you, Basil----" She raised her white hand with the samedeadly gesture which he had himself used so short a time before. Theblack slaves were on him like hounds on a stag.
"Oh, my gra
cious mistress, dear lady, what is this? What is this? Youcannot mean it!" he screamed, in his high, cracked voice. "Oh, what haveI done? Why should I die?"
"You have turned me against my own. You have goaded me to slay my ownson. You have intended to use my secret against me. I read it in youreyes from the first. Cruel, murderous villain, taste the fate which youhave yourself given to so many others. This is your doom. I havespoken."
The old man and the boy hurried in horror from the vault. As theyglanced back they saw the erect, inflexible, shimmering, gold-cladfigure of the Empress. Beyond they had a glimpse of the green-scummedlining of the well, and of the great red open mouth of the eunuch, as hescreamed and prayed while every tug of the straining slaves brought himone step nearer to the brink. With their hands over their ears theyrushed away, but even so they heard that last woman-like shriek, andthen the heavy plunge far down in the dark abysses of the earth.
The Last of the Legions and Other Tales of Long Ago Page 11