THE CHARMED WINE
There was great excitement in the city of Ephesus, so strong had the power of the Christians become.
The story of the demoniac also filled the minds of the people, and a great crowd had gathered in the Agora, it being rumoured that converts to the new faith would at noon openly burn their mystic books and publicly renounce their magical rites.
When the multitude of onlookers saw a vast concourse advancing, bearing symbols of the cross, all looked forward to unpleasant proceedings.
As the Christians drew nigh in regular procession, many leading men and women were observed amongst them. They came on, singing hymns to their God and His Messiah, with heads uncovered in the presence of the sacred emblems.
Judah was amongst them, leading a number of men carrying aged manuscripts—manuscripts on Asian magic, written by some of the cleverest men of ancient times.
The books were piled together, each man laying down his load. A torch was applied, and the smoke went up against the cloudless sky. Volumes were thrown upon burning volumes, the flames leaped high, rising into a pyramid of fire, till the whole were consumed.
Judah stood forward, and, bending over the blackened ashes, cried:
'Thus may error die everywhere down the line of centuries, until good shall reign supreme! One God, one Lord, and His Christ, for ever and ever!'
Amongst the spectators were Venusta, Nika, and the Proconsul; but they were not on the side of the Christians. Their policy was one of silence—silence mixed with scorn.
There was, however, amongst that hated sect one whom they well knew—Chios the Greek; he saw them and passed greeting.
All would have passed off peacefully but for a traitor Ephesian who had mixed himself amongst the Christians, and, to raise the ire of the populace, cried out:
'Down with Diana of the Ephesians!'
The mob rushed frantically upon the crowd of book-destroyers, and would have torn them to pieces but for the intervention of the law, represented by an Asiarch who was present. He calmed the tumult, and laughed to scorn the idea of a few misguided men and women trying to eclipse the goddess whom all the known world worshipped.
From that hour Chios was a marked man amongst his fellows. They were somewhat indifferent as to how the rabble moved, backward or forward, but with the Greek it was different—he, the greatest artist of Ephesus, whose inspirations had gone to build up the faith! Had he not painted Saronia, the High Priestess? and did not the picture hang prominently within the sacred precincts of the mighty Temple?
No, he must be watched, secured. If a true charge could not be made against him, then a false one must be born. Better for him to go to the lions and die than live to embody with his great genius the principles of a false faith. Thus did he stand on a volcano of hate.
As the crowd dispersed Chios joined Nika and her friends, and was greeted with a covert sneer.
'Did we not see thee amongst the unclean? Shame, good man, to be in such doubtful company! Soon thou wilt be at their midnight orgies, and come forth an advocate for this pernicious fraud. And who may say but that thou mayest be baptized and paint the Christian martyr in the throes of death by fire or sword, or caged beasts, eh?—and sign thy name "Chios the Christian" also?'
'Come, Chios, put away this melancholy. Come with us; we will cheer thee—make thee Chios again. Thou shalt drown thy sorrows in good Ionian wine.'
'Yes,' said Nika, 'thou shalt have a draught of rare old Chian wine.' And to herself she murmured: 'It shall be rose-coloured, and this day shall be the last he shall think of faith or Saronia. Ah! he shall love madly, and I shall win him.'
Chios made no retaliation, but smilingly said:
'I will accompany you to your lovely home. Come, sweet Nika, let me sail by you. And you, Roman, escort the Lady Venusta. Do not be jealous if I make your Nika happy.'
And they walked the shaded way, passing the stately marble edifices, until they ascended the side of Mount Coressus, the tall pines nodding gracefully as their foliage danced on the breeze.
'Dost thou believe much in this magic?' said the girl. 'I would like thy honest opinion.'
'Well, yes, I cannot say I do not believe in it. Undoubtedly, during the ages man has accumulated knowledge which enables him to consort with the unseen; but at the beginning it was not so, and even now it is unholy to do so.'
'That is quite different to what I expected from thee. I expected thy hand raised emphatically, and "Nonsense! Childish fancies!" to have been thy reply.'
'No, Nika; I search after truth and goodness. Mark ye, all that is true is not good; and truth oftentimes is wrapped in error—wrapped in lies. I take the wheat and throw aside the chaff! I believe it is true. Man by certain peculiar laws may familiarize himself with spirits deeper sunk in misery than himself, and may work with them. Believing this, I do not practise it. It is not good to do so. 'Tis fraught with direst evil, for the spirit here who mixes with such wandering ones sinks to their level and joins them when he passes over the boundary. Men—yea, women!—are like unto their familiar companions; if not so at the outset, will gradually and surely become so. Understand, Nika?'
'Yes, and should feel very timid to move within the magic circle. Thy teaching, thou knowest, is law to me. Therefore I promise I never shall. But was it not a pity to burn all those beautiful books?'
'No; burn the old creed and start with the new, if the new be better. Burn a world if it be vile, and start with a new earth, peopled with a few who know what it is to live well.'
'But tell me quickly, Chios, how wouldst thou screen Saronia? She is the mightiest sorceress in the land! Wilt thou condemn her also?'
'I condemn no one—I condemn creeds which pilot men to evil, and I press forward to gain the purer light. Let each one do the same.'
They passed into the house of Venusta, and, once within the open court, all was changed. On the cool, perfumed air floated the softest strains, flowing like rippling water from cithara, lute and lyre.
'Nika, dear girl, wilt thou arrange that fruit and wine may be set? Give order to thy slave; bid them be brought.'
'Nay, mother, I will see to it all myself. The rich juice of choicest grape stands yonder. Let me fetch it—let me be serving-maid to such noble guests.'
'Wayward child! A whim of thine, I suppose. Go thy way;' and the girl danced off on the lightest foot to the Golden Room.
She grasped the goblets of gold, poured into them the rarest essence of the vine, and looked down into their rosy depths, and saw mirrored there the consummation of her hopes.
'One thing is needful,' said she, 'to complete the chain. Link after link have I forged it, and now for the last to form a chain of love so strong, so powerful as to bind the Greek to me for ever!'
She placed her hand within her girdle of rubies, and drew forth two phials—one azure, the other rose. She held them aloft, one in each jewelled hand. The sunlight came through the windows of coloured marble, and the phials sparkled like the jewels round her waist.
She gazed on them, a smile lighting up her face. On them hung her life's joy—if such a thing as joy could ever warm the heart of Nika, the Roman girl.
Yes, if she were doomed, she would be damned beneath the shelter of Chios.
The goblets lay on the ivory table. One had a serpent around its base, emblem of eternity; into that she poured the contents of the rose-coloured phial.
'This for Chios,' said she.
The other vessel had a chaste design of lilies, into which she poured the liquid from the azure phial.
'This for the Roman. Eternity for Chios—the fading flowers for Varro!'
On a golden plate begemmed with emeralds she placed them, and went forth from the Golden Room bearing the charmed wine.
'Drink!' said Nika. 'Drink joy to the house of Venusta and Lucius!'
And they pledged themselves in Ionian wine.