She passed without a further glance in my direction and entered the Cathedral. Was she thus to go out of my life for ever? As she ascended the steps, and lingered for a moment under the gloomy arch of the portal, the sun went down behind the western hill and the dark promise of approaching night fell upon the thousand upturned faces below. I shivered as if I saw an evil omen in the trivial incident. Set, you golden sun over yonder hill, for what cared I? Without the woman I loved, without the companionship of that glorious creature who was to sit upon a throne as far above me as the stars, the world would be for ever dark.
Within the sombre entrance of the Cathedral I saw her again. She was buckling her sword to her side and waiting for her father to come up. Again she looked me full in the face, and I fancied her lips moved and a voice whispered "Good-bye, Dale." But I could not be sure she had spoken and I dared not address her in the midst of her retainers. She would need her undivided attention and all her fine courage to carry her through the coming ordeal.
"Any news of Marbosa?" the Red Fox whispered in my ear.
"None," I answered, "except that he and his men are in the Cathedral. They mean business. Keep your retainers close at hand."
The Cathedral was crowded, and, since the entrance of King Gregory, the entire assemblage was standing. The only vacant space was the wide aisle which led from the single door to the altar. The best positions for sight-seeing were the places lining this aisle. Without exception these were filled with women. The nobles were against the side walls, and the Grand Dukes and foreigners were standing on the right and left of the open spaces before the altar. I was glad to note this disposition of the audience for it left the aisle free to any one who wished to leave the church. The men would have to thrust the women aside before they could reach the door.
A gorgeously attired attendant, with one glance at my plain dress suit, led me to a place among the foreigners and I found myself between the American consul and the French diplomat. After the trying ordeal of walking up the aisle with the eyes of the court ladies upon me came to an end, I was well pleased with my position for I would be within ten feet of Solonika when she was crowned.
I looked around the Cathedral. The interior was entirely of stone; it echoed and re-echoed with the slightest movement of the crowd. There were no nave or side aisles. Overhead, arching domes rested on pillars and sprang anew from them to other pillars in an almost endless succession. The result was row upon row of heavy stone pillars extending both lengthwise and crosswise through the body of the church dividing it up into a giant checker-board. But, up near the altar where I stood, the pillars ceased and the high roof reared itself into a single massive dome. I judged that I was under the tallest of the domes which from the outside I had seen at the rear of the edifice.
Under this dome every sound was intensely magnified and the voices of an invisible male choir thundered and reverberated above my head in the solemn movement of an endless Greek chant; the replies were sung by a surpliced boy choir within the sacred altar. The Cathedral was ablaze with lights which came from groups of long candles along the walls and clustered about the heads of the pillars. The altar was one brilliant flame of fire glistening against solid walls of serried candles placed one against the other, outlining the arches, niches and the high altar itself, until to my mind it looked like a miniature exposition building at night. The air was heavy with the smoke of burning candles and the choking odour of Oriental incense.
Moving about through the body of the church, swinging the incense burners of beaten brass and lending their voices to the chant, were scores of lectors, hypo-deacons, deacons and arch-priests. They were dressed in white and from their raiment had received the name of the "white clergy;" these were the priests who were permitted to marry. Gathered around the altar were the priests, bishops, archbishops and metropolitans. They were attired in black and were called the "black clergy;" they were not permitted to marry. The monks from whom they were chosen were not in evidence, but I supposed it was their voices that were raised in the chant.
High above all, dignified, solemn, majestic, his sable robes wrapped closely about him, his tall mitred hat set firmly upon his gray head, stood the Patriarch, the "pope" of the Bharbazonian church. As I soon had cause to learn, he was equal if not greater in power than the King himself, having not only a spiritual but also a temporal jurisdiction over the people, who paid him an annual tribute in proportion to their incomes. He stood motionless, like a man of stone, within that sacred space known as the "Holy of Holies" where, thanks to our pagan ancestry of phallic worship, no woman may come and live.