ON THE VERGE
The judgment pronounced on Chios reached the house of Venusta, and daughter and mother were sore distressed, for the Greek was as one of themselves.
Nika was broken-hearted, and resolved to save him. What should she do? To betray intense emotion might convince Varro of her love for the ill-fated man. The Roman was aflame with love, and wrapped in a mantle of jealousy, since he had received the philtre from her hands which was destined for Chios.
She would approach him gently, and artful as a snake.
When he came that day, she said:
'Hast thou heard of the arrest of our friend?'
'Heard of it? Why, nothing else occupies the Ephesians, and by this time all in Lydia, Phrygia, and Caria, as well as Ionia, have heard of the sad event. Whatever does it mean, Nika? Canst thou solve it, noble Venusta?'
'We cannot,' they both exclaimed. ''Tis a most mysterious affair. We are as much at sea to understand as thou. Surely he must have had a motive for being in the Sacred Grove.'
'I am dying to know,' added Nika. 'Our sex is full of curiosity. Could he not yet explain and stand a chance for his life?' said she. 'In one way he deserves his fate: he was always queer and headstrong; but it is a frightful thought to imagine him torn limb from limb and expiring before our eyes. Can anything be done? Perhaps if I saw him,' continued the girl, 'I might extract from him that which he refuses others. There was a time when I had some little influence with him, but that was long, very long ago. Nevertheless, if thou considerest it feasible, and get me audience—private audience, mark you, for he is not the man to unburden his mind to the public gaze—I will see him, weak creature as I am. I will do my best; and see what thou canst do, if thou dost value his life.'
'Good! Well said, Nika! The Proconsul will do what he can. Hold thyself in readiness for the morrow. I will advise thee further on this matter.'
The Roman was sad at heart, and soon took his departure, brooding deeply over that which Nika had advanced. True, he was the first in the land, but could he interfere? He would try. Chios was a noble fellow, and would lay down his life rather than be guilty of a mean act. There must be some great mystery behind it all. What could it be? Chios the generous, truthful, straightforward, faithful friend guilty of death—guilty of death for being within a grove called 'sacred,' and for killing a couple of infuriated dogs! Nonsense! He was not a robber or incendiary. Nothing of the kind; and he would never see the life-blood of such a man flow out to the earth, and his dying spasms make sport for the people of Ionia. No! To work! He knew by virtue of his rank he could see him, and see him he would, and extract from him sufficient to save him.
When the morning came, the Roman Proconsul saw the Greek in his cell. He was not depressed, nor did he display any fear. He rose to meet Varro with his usual courtesy, and, reaching out his hand, grasped firmly that of his visitor.
'What doest thou here, Chios?'
'Varro, thou art not a stranger in Ephesus, and hast heard all. Nay, more, thou knowest the seal stamped on the decree which bears my fate.'
'Chios, noble friend, I have come to do my best to save thee. Thou dost not wish to die? art not tired of life—of the green fields, the summer sea, the fleeting clouds of the setting sun? Nature has still a charm for thee, I trust? Thou hast not darkened thy spirit with heinous sin, hast thou?'
'No.'
'Then thou hast a friend in Varro.'
'How canst thou help me?'
'This way: give reason of thy being within that fatal Grove. I know thy reason will be good, and thou shalt appeal to Nero. I will see to it that it shall be so, and, further, that thou shalt live—free! Now, my dear fellow, speak out, and give me hope. Speak, Chios; the house of Venusta languisheth to aid thee. Nika would have come, but I thought it better to be here myself.'
'Varro, friend in adversity, I have nothing to say. My life is forfeited. Let it go. Man dies, and it is well to die with conscience clear. Mine is so. No more have I to say but this: My studio—see it safely closed. Let no profane eye dwell upon my leavings. When I have passed, enter thou, take charge, sell all thou findest there; the proceeds give to the poor of this great city. My parchments are there, and, as directed by their superscription, deal with them.'
'Chios, do not throw thy life away! This very direction now dropped from thy lips tells me thou couldst not be guilty of crime. There is some deep-hidden secret resting within thy bosom dearer than life. I respect thy courage, and will say no more. As a Roman soldier, I dare not.'
'Thanks, Varro, thanks. Thou art right in being silent.'
'Farewell, noble man; I leave thee to thy fate. It will do thee justice. Farewell, farewell, Chios!'
When the Roman had gone, and Chios was alone, the pent-up feelings of the Greek broke loose.
'No,' cried he, 'I will never betray Saronia! A thousand deaths, but not that! She knows; she understands! When I die for her I can do nothing greater. She will feel lonely, but love me more intensely.'
Varro went directly to Nika, and told her of his visit.
'Fool!' said she. 'Let him die! If he count not his life worth having, why then should we trouble?'
'Nay, child, do not be so rash,' said Venusta. 'Do not speak so lightly of his fate. We do not know all. Chios is never the man to act without great reason. He will weigh all consequences.'
'Well, well; I will see him myself as a last effort,' said the girl. 'May I, Varro?'
'Do as thou wilt, but ere thou goest make oath on the honour of a Roman lady thou wilt give him nothing to frustrate the decree. The dishonour would be on me.'
'Agreed! When may I go?'
'At once. Every moment is precious.'
She was soon ready, and without any apparent perturbation accompanied her lover to the place where Chios was confined.
As she drew near her face became blanched with terror, and she leaned on the arm of Varro for support. Her courage gave way, and for the first time she betrayed a great agitation.
They traversed the line of underground cells until they came to the one in which Chios lay. The Proconsul communicated his wishes to the guard, and Nika was conducted within, and left with Chios.
When he saw her he started back as if stung with a poisoned arrow. His nature told him there was cause to fear. Did she suspect his secret? For a moment both were silent, then he exclaimed:
'Nika, why comest thou to such a horrible place? Hearest thou the roar of the angry beasts calling for their prey? Art thou not afraid?'
'No, Chios, I fear not, only for thee. That has brought me here. I mean to rescue thee. Have I not told thee aforetime that that love which would not dare to die for another is not worthy of the name of love? Thou hast ever known I love thee. Again, without I dissemble. Here I am once more unrestrained. I will speak freely to thee. No one will hear. My Roman has given me liberty to hold free and secret communion with thee. Now, Chios, we must not bandy words. My visit must necessarily be brief, and I have come to aid thee. What wert thou doing in the Sacred Grove? Tell me, dearest Chios. Tell me lies or truth, anything that I may have argument to plead for thee.'
Then answered he:
'Lies I cannot speak; the truth I will not.'
'Then I know, and will answer for thee. I will say Saronia sent for thee, and thou wert there with thy full heart to do her bidding. That she deceived thee, or failed to come in time—hence thy position.'
'Woman, thou liest basely! Thou wouldst tear down the honour of an innocent person, and build on the ruins the gratification of thy selfish passions. Leave me! leave me at once! Why hast thou come here like a sinuous serpent, gaudy and beautiful, but carrying a venom dipped in hell? Wert thou to attempt this base calumny, I would nevertheless die, and dying, shower my curses on thy head, on the head of a perjurer, murderess of the deepest blackness! Now go; thou hast had the mind of Chios. Chios can meet his fate. Let Saronia rest; she is innocent of my act.'
'Dear Chios, do pacify thyself. I was probing only to know the truth. Forgive Nika!' And she threw herself upon his neck and wept as if her heart would break.
Chios put her from him, saying:
'A dying man cannot afford to carry with him a stormy spirit. When I was born, the day, the wise men say, was sunny, the leaves were green, and blossoms were on the citron-trees, the birds sang, the winds were hushed, and all nature smiled. On suchlike day my spirit came within the infant form. I came peacefully, and would leave the same, only with a purer soul. Our life here should be an evolution of goodness. Hast thine been so, Nika?'
She started back in tears. It seemed but a few short years when she was a child, and with swiftness her mind flew back across the summers. She saw herself darkened and deformed, and she held down her head in silence.
'Ah, girl! my words have touched thee. Let them be my legacy. Remember them when Chios is gone. Try and be a nobler girl.'
'Oh, Chios, cease, or I shall die! What shall I do for thee?'
'Nothing! Take my forgiveness, and go. Go to thy betrothed.'
'Is this all? Am I also to be sent empty away? For the sake of all who love thee, for the sake of Ephesus, I beseech thee, speak out! Thou art not guilty, canst do no wrong. Thou art a sacrifice; thou shalt not die!'
She fell upon her knees, grasped his hands in hers, bathed them in the tears which fell from her eyes, saying:
'If thou dost die, I will die also. If I cannot lean upon thee here, I will pass with thee, follow thee like a faithful dog through the land they call spirit. I have no one but Chios—thou art a mighty soul. In the great beyond I can look to none but thee. Oh, Chios! oh, love!'
The heart of the man was melting, but his spirit remained firm.
'Poor Nika! would I could help thee! Were it in my power, I would place thee in a holier sphere when thy new life comes, but such is not for me to do. I cannot assert my own destiny, much less make thine. Thou wouldst not help thyself by dying. I fear our ways lie apart. Thou wouldst not care to follow me. My affinities are not thine, and beyond they would mingle less. Now let me dry thy tears;' and taking her richly-embroidered handkerchief, he brushed the pearly drops from her cheeks, raised her hand to his lips, and kissed it.
'I will not leave thee, Nika, when I have passed through the vale, but will do my best to lead thee through the gloom.'
He took her to the door of the cell and left her.
She staggered forward, lost her consciousness, and fell. They took her to the fresh air, and after a while she looked upwards towards the skies, murmuring:
'He is gone away. I saw him leave in the midst of a company of gods. There—there is the rift in the blue where he entered. Chios! Chios! Thou wilt come again—again,' and she fell back as one dead.
Quickly they bore her home. Agonizing fever set in with fury on her until all hope of recovery was despaired of. They watched beside her. Still there came no turn for the better.
One ever-recurring delirium was hers, and ever and anon she looked up with vacant stare, saying:
'The pillar has fallen, the tree is stricken, but thou hast promised to return to me!'
After the Roman had taken her to the house of Venusta, he went again to Chios, and told him of her unhappy condition, imploring him, for the sake of Nika, to free himself, as that seemed the only chance of saving her life, for his name was always on her lips.
With profound sorrow Chios bent his head and groaned within, saying:
'Merciless Fates! What have I done to cause such suffering?... My heart sorrows nigh to breaking yet my mind is fixed as a rock dashed upon by many waves. I cannot alter my decision. I die, even if my own eternal destiny were shattered by my refusing to live! All will be well with Nika. She will live, but I shall be led to death. Farewell! My farewell to Venusta, Nika, and glorious Ephesus with all its beauty! Remember my last testament, and, should thou see an aged man with deep intelligence stamped upon his brow—a foreigner, and chief of the Nazarenes (thou wilt recognise him; he is without counterpart)—tell him I die in peace. His God is mine. Again farewell!'
The two men gazed at each other for a moment. The Roman spoke first:
'Chios, thou art mad! Why, this alone would damn thee tenfold! Thou art lost! The die is cast, thy doom sealed. Unhappy friend, I pity thee, pity thee from my very heart. Farewell! Farewell—for ever!'
And Chios was left to his fate.
The great day had come. Thousands were pouring into the city. It was the day when the Ephesian theatre would be filled with spectators to witness the slaughter of the condemned—slaves, felons, Christians, and Chios—to make sport for the people.
The beasts had been kept without food the preceding day, and were ravenous. The multitude had been gathering since sunrise, and already the theatre was filled. Never in that generation had such a noble citizen as Chios been offered to the lions; and many hard-hearted and stoical ones said, 'He ought to die,' but when the testing time came, many, many of the people would have saved him.
A rumour had floated, propagated by the witch Endora, that she had watched Chios going towards the grove, followed him, and saw him meet a Greek girl, a lady of Ephesus. Finding they were discovered, both hid within. She saw the girl leave, but Chios remained.
The people, ready to believe almost anything for the sake of Chios, accepted this trumped-up story, saying: 'After all, it was a love affair, and Chios was not the man to reveal the lady's name.'
Thus the feeling grew, and if the populace by vote could have saved him, they would have done so; but this was not possible.
So the time wore on, and the multitude became more excited. The hour arrived. Soon the High Priest and Priestess would arrive and the slaughter commence.
Chios was being brought forth to the arena just as the High Priestess Saronia passed him. Her garments nearly brushed the doomed man, and their eyes met. She halted and spoke to her escort, saying:
'Who is that man?'
They answered: 'Chios the Greek, the great Ionian artist.'
With an unbending look she beckoned him towards her. With voice clear as a silver bell, she said:
'Of what art thou accused?'
'I am accused of being within the Sacred Grove of Hecate, and slaying the hounds.'
'What brought thee there?'
'Madam, that is a part of my crime, that I answer not such questions.'
'Thou art a bold man, but courageous. Hear me, Chios the Greek! By virtue of my office, High Priestess of the Lady Saviour, I pardon thee. Thy crime is not of the State, but of the Temple. Release him! Let him go!'
Those close at hand heard the words of Saronia, and the news passed round the great building like a flash of light, and a mighty shout of consent rang out like the sound of stranded waves, for they loved Chios at heart.
Even the dignity of the Proconsul forsook him for once. He arose, rushed out, sprang into his chariot, and drove quickly to the house of Venusta.
Nika lay motionless in sleep, one hand hanging listlessly over the side of an ebony couch; her hair, glinted with sunlight, partly hid her face.
The Roman whispered softly:
'Nika, Nika dearest, art thou better?'
Her eyes opened, and she looked up with a stolid gaze.
'Yes. What didst thou say?'
'Art thou better, Nika?'
'Perhaps so. I dreamt a lovely dream.'
'And what was it?'
'I saw Chios walking unfettered amongst the sons of Jove. He said, "I am free; I will come to thee."'
'But he is not dead, my sweet girl.'
'Not dead? not dead?'
'No; he is pardoned.'
'Pardoned?' cried the maid, springing to her feet and looking around as if still in a dream. 'Pardoned? Pardoned? Why? By whom?'
And her soul awoke to consciousness.
'By Saronia, the Arch-Priestess of the Temple,' said he.
'Saronia! Saronia again? Again?' Then the eyes of Nika fell, and a blush like the first crimson streak of morning swept over her cheeks, and she said: 'It must be so. Chios—Saronia.'