CHAPTER IX
THE HALL OF THE PIT
The days and the nights went by, but which was day and which was nightI knew not, save for the visits of the jailers with my meals--I who wasblind, I who should never see the light again. At first I suffered much,but by degrees the pain died away. Also a physician came to tend myhurts, a skilful man. Soon I discovered, however, that he had anotherobject. He pitied my state, so much, indeed, he said, that he offered tosupply me with a drug that, if I were willing to take it, would makean end of me painlessly. Now I understood at once that Irene desired mydeath, and, fearing to cause it, set the means of self-murder within myreach.
I thanked the man and begged him to give me the drug, which he did,whereon I hid it away in my garments. When it was seen that I stilllived although I had asked for the medicine, I think that Irene believedthis was because it had failed to work, or that such a means of deathdid not please me. So she found another. One evening when a jailerbrought my supper he pressed something heavy into my hand, which I feltto be a sword.
"What weapon is this?" I asked, "and why do you give it to me?"
"It is your own sword," answered the man, "which I was commanded toreturn to you. I know no more."
Then he went away, leaving the sword with me.
I drew the familiar blade from its sheath, the red blade that theWanderer had worn, and touching its keen edge with my fingers, wept frommy blinded eyes to think that never again could I hold it aloft in waror see the light flash from it as I smote. Yes, I wept in my weakness,till I remembered that I had no longer any wish to be the death of men.So I sheathed the good sword and hid it beneath my mattress lest somejailer should steal it, which, as I could not see him, he might doeasily. Also I desired to put away temptation.
I think that this hour after the bringing of the sword, which stirred upso many memories, was the most fearful of all my hours, so fearful that,had it been prolonged, death would have come to me of its own accord.I had sunk to misery's lowest deep, who did not know that even then itstide was turning, who could not dream of all the blessed years that laybefore me, the years of love and of such peaceful joy as even the blindmay win.
That night Martina came--Martina, who was Hope's harbinger. I heardthe door of my prison open and close softly, and sat still, wonderingwhether the murderers had entered at last, wondering, too, whether Ishould snatch the sword and strike blindly till I fell. Next I heardanother sound, that of a woman weeping; yes, and felt my hand liftedand pressed to a woman's lips, which kissed it again and yet again.A thought struck me, and I began to draw it back. A soft voice spokebetween its sobs.
"Have no fear, Olaf. I am Martina. Oh, now I understand why yondertigress sent me on that distant mission."
"How did you come here, Martina?" I asked.
"I still have the signet, Olaf, which Irene, who begins to mistrustme, forgets. Only this morning I learned the truth on my return to thepalace; yet I have not been idle. Within an hour Jodd and the Northmenknew it also. Within three they had blinded every hostage whom theyheld, aye, and caught two of the brutes who did the deed on you, andcrucified them upon their barrack walls."
"Oh! Martina," I broke in, "I did not desire that others who areinnocent should share my woes."
"Nor did I, Olaf; but these Northmen are ill to play with. Moreover,in a sense it was needful. You do not know what I have learned--thatto-morrow Irene proposed to slit your tongue also because you can telltoo much, and afterwards to cut off your right hand lest you, who arelearned, should write down what you know. I told the Northmen--nevermind how. They sent a herald, a Greek whom they had captured, and,covering him with arrows, made him call out that if your tongue was slitthey would know of it and slit the tongues of all the hostages also, andthat if your hand was cut off they could cut off their hands, and takeanother vengeance which for the present they keep secret."
"At least they are faithful," I said. "But, oh! tell me, Martina, whatof Heliodore?"
"This," she whispered into my ear. "Heliodore and her father sailed anhour after sunset and are now safe upon the sea, bound for Egypt."
"Then I was right! When Irene told me she was dead she lied."
"Aye, if she said that she lied, though thrice she has striven to murderher, I have no time to tell you how, but was always baffled by those whowatched. Yet she might have succeeded at last, so, although Heliodorefought against it, it was best that she should go. Those who are partedmay meet again; but how can we meet one who is dead until we too aredead?"
"How did she go?"
"Smuggled from the city disguised as a boy attending on a priest, andthat priest her father shorn of his beard and tonsured. The BishopBarnabas passed them out in his following."
"Then blessings on the Bishop Barnabas," I said.
"Aye, blessings on him, since without his help it could never have beendone. The secret agents at the port stared hard at those two, althoughthe good bishop vouched for them and gave their names and offices.Still, when they saw some rough-looking fellows dressed like sailorsapproach, playing with the handles of their knives, the agents thoughtwell to ask no more questions. Moreover, now that the ship has sailed,for their own sakes they'll swear that no such priest and boy wentaboard of her. So your Heliodore is away unharmed, as is her father,though his mission has come to naught. Still, his life is left in him,for which he may be thankful, who on such a business should have broughtno woman. If he had come alone, Olaf, your eyes would have been left toyou, and set by now upon the orb of empire that your hand had grasped."
"Yet I am glad that he did not come alone, Martina."
"Truly you have a high and faithful heart, and that woman should behonoured whom you love. What is the secret? There must be more in itthan the mere desire for a woman's beauty, though I know that at timesthis can make men mad. In such a business the soul must play its part."
"I think so, Martina. Indeed, I believe so, since otherwise we suffermuch in vain. Now tell me, how and when do I die?"
"I hope you will not die at all, Olaf. Certain plans are laid whicheven here I dare not whisper. To-morrow I hear they will lead you againbefore the judges, who, by Irene's clemency, will change your sentenceto one of banishment, with secret orders to kill you on the voyage. Butyou will never make that voyage. Other schemes are afoot; you'll learnof them afterwards."
"Yet, Martina, if you know these plots the Augusta knows them also,since you and she are one."
"When those dagger points were thrust into your eyes, Olaf, they cut thethread that bound us, and now Irene and I are more far apart thanhell and heaven. I tell you that for your sake I hate her and work herdownfall. Am I not your god-mother, Olaf?"
Then again she kissed my hand and presently was gone.
The Wanderer's Necklace Page 38