TWO MASTER MINDS
The stars were shining softly through the mists of a summer night; the moon had touched the western rim; the winds were sleeping low upon the pine-clad hills, and Nature, weary, lay in sweet repose.
On such a night, a week since the High Priest met his fate, Saronia went up the side of Pion to the cave of Endora.
Disguised as she was, Chios did not know her, and she might have passed by unknown had she not turned towards the place where he waited to receive her.
She entered, and sat down wearily. There was great anxiety in her eyes. Chios unfastened the cloak which enveloped her and let it fall back over her shoulders.
'What ails thee, Saronia?'
'What ails me? My heart is rending; I am weary. The soul truly never grows old, but the flesh tires. I am tired of all, and would I were at rest. The surges ever move towards the strand, sometimes gently like the breaking of the day; but with me always the waves beat ruthlessly around my imprisoned spirit, until now, like a drowning man clinging to the last vestige of his wrecked ship, I would fain let go my hold, and sink backwards into the seething waves which wait to engulf me.'
'Do not despair, Saronia.'
'No, I do not despair. I have ever sought to do the right and know the truth, and fear not the future.
'I must find the home best suited for this soul, as I have evolved it, but I feel I have no power to go forward, and I may as well cease my yearnings for light. Perchance more may be meted to me in the ages beyond. That I shall live again and move onwards I know. I know this: it is the jewel left me—it is the anchor of my soul. Break the cordage which fastens me to it, and I drift aimless, hopelessly.'
'Nay, nay, Saronia, do not talk in such a strain. What weighs so heavily on thee?'
'The death of the High Priest. Canst thou clear the mystery, Chios?'
He looked towards Endora. The woman stood leaning against the side of the cave, with eyes aglow, and burning with desire to speak. She stood forth, firmly erect, with head thrown back.
'I slew him, lady—slew him in self-defence; killed him to save the truest, noblest woman on earth, and the man who loveth her, Chios the Greek. He would have strangled me, would have wrenched thy whereabouts from me—did try—until his iron grip upon my throat well-nigh put out my life. Now listen, mighty priestess, and you cultured man of Ephesus. The man I slew killed my love and spirit's aspirations years ago—long ago. The dead priest, who rose to be the highest in Asia, was my husband—the husband of Endora!'
'Thy husband?' exclaimed Saronia.
'Yea, it is true. He left me to my fate. I followed him hither, watched his career, and saw the people of Ephesus fooled with his whining hypocrisy. He knew me not until the fated night. When he fell I stooped and whispered in his ear my name, but it was not Endora! Thou heard'st the second shriek? The whisper of my name caused it. He shattered my life and left me to die; but I did not die, neither will I for his death. My line of life is not broken. I wait events.'
Saronia was speechless, and Chios quivered like a leaf on a restless tree. Gathering strength, he staggered towards the door to breathe the air, and the two women were left alone.
Endora felt the power of the priestess, and dared not speak.
'Hast thou told Chios who thou art? Does he know thou art his mother, and by thine own hand thou hast slain his sire?'
'No, and the secret kills me. Oh that I could die, disappear from the gaze of my son! Thou canst fancy my bursting soul, how my heart aches to hear one loving word from my only child! No, no; this cannot be. Endora, Myrtile the false, accursed, bloodstained, must never be known to Chios, my son, my son! But when I am gone—it will not be long—when I have finished here, tell him—tell him all, and that to the last my longing soul yearned to behold his manly face. Tell him that a mother's instincts, a mother's love, deadened by the curse, still dwelt within me. Mighty Saronia, thou wilt be left to him. Give him the love which a mother could not reveal. As I have said, I shall soon be on my great journey—yea, before the leaves fall from the trees in autumn.
'Now to business. Intendest thou to deliver me to be weighed in the scales of justice?'
'No. I mourn over the fatal act. 'Twas done in self-defence. I will not interfere. Wert thou tried, no one would believe thee. I do. My betrayal of thee would rest a murder on my own soul. The Fates must rule. Go thy way, and render thine account in the great hereafter. The gods will judge thee, and mete out justice. Keep thy counsel. 'Tis better none should know who thou art. Should I outlive thee, I will tell him, and say, blackened as thou art, cursed and full of sin, there was yet a spark of the Divine in thee, a spark which anon shall fire and blaze and burn the dross, and leave thee pure and unsullied as the air in which the gods dwell.'
Chios returned within the cave. The women were silent, until the silence was broken by the footfall of a stranger. It was Judah the Christian.
'What a strange gathering!' murmured Chios, as he went forth to meet his friend.
Endora glided out like a panther, leaving the two men alone with the priestess.
Saronia drew her black cloak closely around her, covering her priestly robes.
Judah knew her. 'Lady of the Temple, thou art safe. Speak; I will not betray thee. Thou art not the first who came in this way. A young ruler in Judea came to my Master by night and learned of Him, and what thou wilt hear from me are the echoes of that Master's voice. Say on.'
Then answered Saronia. 'Behold in me a priestess of the goddess Diana, skilled in the mysteries of her faith, touching the fringe of knowledge as it emanates from my divine mistress, carrying with me a belief hoary with the ages. But a short time since it permeated every cranny of my being, leaving no room for doubt until I heard from Chios thou hadst won him to thy faith. Knowing Chios well, and observing his peace, the things thou hast told him now rise for hearing in my soul. Judah, if thou hast more of truth than I, then show it me! I have power—power to cast around us darkness—thick darkness—and anon fill this darkened cave with spirits of fire, so that it shall blaze with light! Believest thou this? I do not boast to show this power, but to prove I seek not power, but truth and peace. Speak.'
Then said he: 'Thou hast no power here. Thou art shorn of thy strength. The presence of my God is too strong! Invoke thy goddess, or thy gods; they will be dumb to thee. I challenge thee, invoke thy spirits! Call them hither, they will be as dead men to thee!'
She arose, towering with majestic beauty, and, stretching forth her arms, whispered, with a voice full of command:
Spirits of the Temple Altar,
Ye who guard the sacrifice,
Ye whose pinions never weary
Serving Hecate, Diana,
Serving Luna, Queen of Heaven,
Come ye, by my summons bidden,
Light your torches deep in Hades,
Wave your brightness in this darkness,
Fill this place with light and splendour!
But Saronia was powerless. Her strength was gone, and she stood aghast. Looking first at Chios, then at Judah, she spoke not a word, and her eyes were filled with tears as she learned a greater than Diana was there, and the priestess was a broken reed.
It was then Judah spoke:
'Holy Father, by whose power the north was stretched over the empty space, whose o'ershadowing wings give shelter to unnumbered souls, whose mercy endureth for ever! Holy Son, reclining on the bosom of the Father when the morning stars sang together and the sons of God shouted for joy! Holy Spirit, dispensing peace! Holy Trinity, Great Eternal, Love illimitable—hear Thy servant, and show us Thy goodness!'
Then a Presence passed between them, and Saronia knew the Christ of God was there; but He entered not into her soul.
She saw by the smile of peace on the Christian's face that he recognised his God and was holding communion with Him. And the priestess hid her face, not daring to look upon that holy sight.
'Saronia,' said Judah, 'thy God stands by! Wilt thou worship?'
She raised her eyes upwards to the rugged roof of the cave, and, starting to her feet, cried:
'God of gods, if such Thou be—Spirit of the Mighty Ages—hail! I feel Thy power; it encircles me! I fear Thee, but I do not love. No, no! Saronia came not here to be captured or fascinated by fleeting spasm of fear! My mind is wrought to think and judge dispassionately. No show of power, no tinge of joy or veil of peace, will hold me off from the circle of my faith, which hath taught me knowledge deep and high, all glinting with flames of truth, strong as the moon gives when harvest-time is here. What I ask for is more light—sunlight—that may show me the truth with radiant splendour of a summer day. Canst thou, holy man, bestow this?'
For a moment the power of her mighty mind astounded Judah. Never before had he encountered such a being. He looked on her as she stood erect in all her loveliness, saying:
'Thou art a princess amongst spirits! The wisdom of man will not convince thee. Thou must be taught of God! Thy knowledge is great, Saronia; but listen. Many mighty spirits have wheeled and circled around the throne of the Eternal, dashing from their wings the heavenly sheen, the brilliancy brighter than a myriad suns, as they touched the halo of splendour which surrounds Jehovah. Many of them fell—fell, I say—like lightning from heaven, shorn of their radiance through dire rebellion. They knew the very source of truth, gazed upon the very ocean of it, and fell, carrying knowledge with them and a mighty power, by which they now work evil instead of good, leaving peace and love behind.
'Perchance thou hast been taught of them—filled thy pitcher at their polluted fountain. Wilt thou be satisfied with it, or rise and rise until thou ministereth to Deity? Thou, too, wilt be a rebel if thou closest thy gates against the truth. Thine eyes are clouded, and mercy waits with loving hands to take the veil away!
'Thou seekest light, and even now, although thou knowest it not, thou art on the very verge of the kingdom. And, mark well, when the set time comes, and thy vision is purified, the glory of God will surround thee like a mighty ocean without a shore. The index of my mind points that I should say good-bye. The seed which has been sown must die, and from it rise life and beauty to be crowned with a harvest of flowers. Farewell, mighty Saronia! Farewell, beloved Chios!'
And he passed out into the starlight, the angels of God guarding him in mighty phalanx, deep and broad like a river of glory.
Endora saw him leave, and a shudder passed over her as she trod the ground sanctified by the footsteps of the holy man.
'Where hast thou been, Endora?' said the priestess.
'Listening,' said the witch. 'I did my best not to play eavesdropper, but by an irresistible power I was drawn to the half-open door, and heard the words of Judah, and, on my soul, I would I were as pure as he!'
'Art thou also being tainted with this new faith, Endora?'
'No, no; but what may I expect from mine own? I am borne on the outer circle of it, accursed, knowing my fate. Who can blame me if I strike from my orbit like a wandering star, with the hope of coming within the influence of some other God greater than Hecate? Perhaps He may take me to His care. Did I not hear Judah say the mercy of his God endureth for ever? If so, may I not taste of it? I will try, and ere to-morrow's sun will have arisen I will have burnt my charms, my books, my Ephesian spells, and stand out fearlessly, awaiting the passing by of the Great Spirit of that mighty God. Perchance, seeing a naked, starving soul, He may throw around me a garment of mercy, a mantle of love, and I may yet atone, and worship at His feet. There is a story told that He sheltered Magdalene—and why not me? Most noble priestess, I read thee well enough to know thy great mind, stored with the greater mysteries, is broad enough, high enough, deep enough to let a struggling spirit work out its best destiny. I know thou wilt consent that to Endora be allowed the fullest light she can get to lead on to something better than the cold doom which now awaits her. Say, noble priestess—say! I feel I am parting from thee. Some links in the mighty spell which binds me are already broken. Some great influence is at work moulding my soul to something good. I will let it work. I will be passive in the hands of this great Potter, and out of darkness—gross darkness and sin—He may bring forth a being clothed with radiant immortality. Already a new dawn upheaveth, and more peace than Endora hath experienced in a lifetime now broods over her.'
And she fell on the cold, stony floor, and lay at the feet of the priestess.
Saronia, the High Priestess, arose, looking lovingly towards Chios.
'Go thy way, dear Chios; leave this woman to me. No good can now come of thy presence. Our mission is accomplished. We have spoken with him we came to see. His words are graven on my heart, and will have due consideration; and greater than all he said is the fact that here before me lies this Endora, a marvel to my soul—a being steeped in sin, accursed of the goddess, moved upon by this mighty spiritual influence, talking of peace, and a dawn of love, mercy, and radiant life! This to me is far greater miracle than if Mount Pion had changed places with Coressus, or the deep blue sea rolled over the Ephesian plain, making the great Temple of Diana an island of marble in the midst of the waters.'
Chios and Saronia stood at the entrance of that lonely cave.
'Let me kiss thee, Saronia; let me place my hand upon thy head. I have been silent, knowing a greater than I was present. I knew thee too well to meddle with the workings of thy mind. We shall meet again shortly, shall we not, loved one?'
'Probably.'
'Thou wilt send by the hand of Endora?'
'Good-bye, Chios—good-bye! Take this flower of myrtle from me.'
She plucked it from her bosom, kissed its fragrant petals, and gave it to him.