An hour later I was riding through the streets of the mighty city, cladin shining armour. As the season was that of October, in which the Feastof St. Michael falls, we wore cloaks, although, the day being warm, theywere little needed. Mine was of some fine white stuff, with a redcross broidered on the right shoulder. Stauracius, the eunuch and greatminister, who had been ordered to act as my god-father, rode alongsideof me on a mule, because he dared not mount a horse, sweating beneathhis thick robe of office, and, as I heard from time to time, cursing me,his god-son, and all this ceremony beneath his breath. On my other handwas my god-mother, Martina, riding an Arab mare, which she did wellenough, having been brought up to horsemanship on the plains of Greece.Her mood was varied, for now she laughed at the humour of the scene, andnow she was sad almost to tears.
The streets were lined with thousands of the pleasure-loving people ofthe city, who had come out to see the show of the Empress going in stateto the cathedral. They were gathered even on the flat house-tops and inthe entrances to the public buildings and open places. But the gloryof the sight was centred, not about me, with my escort of guardsand chanting priests, but in Irene's self. Preceded and followedby glittering regiments of soldiers, she drove in her famous goldenchariot, drawn by eight milk-white steeds, each of which was led bya bejewelled noble. Her dress was splendid and covered with sparklinggems, and on her yellow hair she wore a crown. As she went themultitudes shouted their welcome, and she bowed to right and left inanswer to the shouts. Now and again, however, bands of armed men, cladin a dress of a peculiar colour, emerged from side streets and hooted,crying:
"Where is the Augustus? Give us the Augustus. We will not be ruled by awoman and her eunuchs!"
These men were of the party of Constantine, and set on by him. Once,indeed, there was a tumult, for some of them tried to bar the road, tillthey were driven away, leaving a few dead or wounded behind them. Butstill the crowds shouted and the Empress bowed as though nothing hadhappened, and thus by a somewhat winding route, we came to St. Sophia.
The Augusta entered, and presently I and those with me followed herinto the wonderful cathedral. I see it now, not in particular, but asa whole, with its endless columns, its aisles and apses, and itsglittering mosaics shining through the holy gloom, across which shotbars of light from the high window-places. All the great place was fullof the noblest in the city, rank upon rank of them, come thither to seethe Empress in her glory at the great Feast of St. Michael, which yearby year she attended thus.
At the altar waited the Patriarch in his splendid robes, attended bymany bishops and priests, among them Barnabas of Egypt. The servicebegan, I and some other converts standing together near to the altarrail. The details of it do not return to me. Sweet voices sang, censersgave forth their incense, banners waved, and images of the saints,standing everywhere, smiled upon us fixedly. Some of us were baptised,and some who had already been baptised were received publicly into thefellowship of the Church, I among them. My god-father, Stauracius, adeacon prompting him, and my god-mother, Martina, spoke certain words onmy behalf, and I also spoke certain words which I had learned.
The splendid Patriarch, a sour-faced man with a slight squint, gave mehis especial blessing. The Bishop Barnabas, upon whom, as I noted, thePatriarch was always careful to turn his back, offered up a prayer. Mygod-father and god-mother embraced me, Stauracius smacking the air at adistance, for which I was grateful, and Martina touching me gently withher lips upon the brow. The Empress smiled upon me and, as I passed her,patted me on the shoulder. Then the Sacrament was celebrated, whereofthe Empress partook first; next we converts, with our god-parents, andafterwards a number of the congregation.
It was over at last. The Augusta and her attendants marched down thecathedral towards the great western doors, priests followed, and, amongthem, we converts, whom the people applauded openly.
Looking to right and left of me, for I was weary of keeping my gazefixed upon the floor, presently I caught sight of a face whilst as yetit was far away. It seemed to draw me, I knew not why. The face was thatof a woman. She stood by an old and stately-looking man with a whitebeard, the last of a line of worshippers next to the aisle along whichthe procession passed, and I saw that she was young and fair.
Down the long, resounding aisle the procession marched slowly. Now I wasnearer to the face, and perceived that it was lovely as some rich-huedflower. The large eyes were dark and soft as a deer's. The complexion,too, was somewhat dark, as though the sun had kissed it. The lips werered and curving, and about them played a little smile that was full ofmystery as the eyes were full of thought and tenderness. The figure wasdelicate and rounded, but not so very tall. All these things and othersI noted, yet it was not by them that I was drawn and held, but ratherbecause I _knew this lady_.
She was the woman of whom, years ago, I had dreamed on the night onwhich I broke into the Wanderer's tomb at Aar!
Never for one moment did I doubt me of this truth. I was sure. I wassure. It did not even need, while she turned to whisper something to hercompanion, that the cloak she wore should open a little, revealing onher breast a necklace of emerald beetles separated by inlaid shells ofpale and ancient gold.
She was watching the procession with interest, yet somewhat idly, whenshe caught sight of me, whom, from where she stood, she could scarcelyhave seen before. Of a sudden her face grew doubtful and troubled, liketo that of one who has just received some hurt. She saw the ornamentabout my neck. She turned pale and had she not gripped the arm of theman beside her, would, I think, have fallen. Then her eyes caught mine,and Fate had us in its net.
She leaned forward, gazing, gazing, all her soul in those dark eyes,and I, too, gazed and gazed. The great cathedral vanished with itsglittering crowds, the sound of chanting and of feet that marched diedfrom my ears. In place of these I saw a mighty columned temple and twostone figures, taller than pines, seated on a plain, and through themoonlit silence heard a sweet voice murmuring:
"Farewell. For this life, farewell!"
Now we were near to each other, now I was passing her, I who might notstay. My hand brushed hers, and oh! it was as though I had drunk a cupof wine. A spirit entered into me and, bending, I whispered in her ear,speaking in the Latin tongue, since Greek, which all knew, I did notdare to use, "_Ave post secula!_" Greeting after the ages!
I saw her bosom heave; yes, and heard her whisper back:
"_Ave!_"
So she knew me also.
The Wanderer's Necklace Page 31