"That is the beautiful Stephania, the widow of Crescentius."

"But she watches for vengeance."

"What have these Germans to do in Rome? I wish the owner of this Golden House could rise from the dead. He was the last Roman!"

"He was a man who did not caress his enemies. He feared nothing between heaven and earth, not even the lightning. Once there was a lightning-flash in his dining-hall as he reclined at table. What do you think he said? 'To your health!' and raised his goblet."

At this moment a heated stone fell from the vaulted roof into the fire, and caused a shower of sparks. The night wind rushed through the hole thus formed, and blew the smoke into the feasters faces. At first they were amused at the occurrence, but were soon obliged to leave the vault.

"Let us go out and witness the end of the world!" cried one of the youths. They formed a procession of Baccha.n.a.ls and Maenads, one in front carrying a filled wineskin. There were flute-players among them, and all carried goblets in their hands.

Below, in the old Basilica of St. Peter, stood the Pope before the altar, and performed in silence the midnight ma.s.s. The church was crowded, and everyone was on his knees. The silence was so deep that the rustle of the white sleeve of the officiant could be heard when he elevated the cup. But another sound was audible, which seemed to be measuring out the last moments of the Millennium. It beat like the pulse in the ear of a feverish man, and at the same rate. The door of the sacristy stood open, and the great clock which hung there ticked calmly and steadfastly, once in a second.

The Pope, who was outwardly just as calm, had probably left the door open in order to produce the utmost effect at the great moment, for his face was pale with emotion, but he did not move, and his hands did not tremble.

The ma.s.s was over, and a death-like silence ensued. The people expected the Lord's servant at the altar to speak a few words of comfort. But he said nothing; he seemed absorbed in prayer, and had stretched out his hands towards heaven.

The clock ticked, the people sighed, but nothing happened. Like children afraid of the dark, the congregation lay with their faces towards the ground, and dared not look up. A cold sweat of anxiety dropped from many brows, knees which had gone to sleep caused pain, or were numb, and felt as though they had been amputated.

Then the clock suddenly ceased ticking.

Had the works run down? Was it an omen? Was everything going to stand still, time to be at an end, and eternity begin? From the congregation rose some stifled cries, and, lifeless with terror, some bodies dropped on the stone pavement.

Then the clock began to strike--One, Two, Three, Four.... The twelfth stroke sounded, and the echoes died away. A fresh death-like silence ensued.

Then Silvester turned round, and, with the proud smile of a victor, he extended his hands in blessing. At the same moment all the bells in the tower rang out joyfully, and from the organ-loft a choir of voices began to sing, somewhat unsteadily at first, but soon firmly and clearly, "Te Deum Laudamus!"

The congregation joined in, but it was some time before they could straighten their stiffened backs, and recover from the spectacle of those who had died of fright. When the hymn was over, the people fell in each other's arms, weeping and laughing like lunatics, as they gave each other the kiss of peace.

So ended the first Millennium after the birth of Christ.

In the little castle Paterno on Mount Soracte, the Emperor had spent the Christmas week and New Year's Eve in the strictest fast and penance. But when New Year's Day was come, and nothing had happened, he returned to Rome to meet Silvester and take measures for the future. The Emperor's friend and teacher received him with a smile which was easy to interpret. But the monarch was still so much under the effect of his fit of alarm that he did not venture to be angry.

"Will you now return to earth, my son, and look after your mundane affairs?" said Silvester.

"I will, but I must first fulfil two vows which I made in the hour of need."

"Fulfil them certainly."

"I go to the grave of my friend Adalbert in Gnesen, and I must visit the funeral vault of Charles the Great in Aachen."

"Do so, but you must at the same time fulfil some commissions which I give you for the journey."

So they parted.

Two years had pa.s.sed, when, one day in January, Pope Silvester was summoned to Paterno, the little castle on Soracte, where the Roman-German Emperor dwelt, and now lay ill.

When Silvester entered the sick-room, the Emperor sat upright, but looked troubled. "You are ill," said Silvester: "is it the soul or body?"

"I am tired."

"Already, at twenty-two years of age."

"I am despondent."

"You are despondent although you saw the world awake from its nightmare.

Consider, ungrateful man, all that these two years have brought, what triumphs for Christ, who really seems to have returned. I will enumerate them: listen! Bohemia has received its Duke, who has eradicated heathenism; Austria has concentrated itself as a Danube-state the heathen Magyar has allowed himself to be baptized, and received the crown from our own hand as Stephen the First; Boleslaw in Poland has also received a crown and an archbishop; the new kingdom of Russia has accepted baptism and Vladimir the Great protects us against the Saracens, who are on the decline, and Seljuks or Turks, who are in the ascendant; Harold of Denmark and Olaf of Sweden have established Christianity in their dominions; so has Olaf Tryggveson in Norway and Iceland, in the Faroe Island, in Shetland and Greenland; and the Dane Sven Tveskagg has secured Britain for Christianity. France is under the pious Robert II, of the new race of the Capets, but also of Saxon descent like you. In Spain, the northern States Leon, Castille, Aragon, Navarre, have at last united, and protect us from the Moors in Cordova.

All this in five years, and under the aegis of Rome! Is not all this the return of Christ, and do you understand now what Providence means by the Millennium? Those who are alive at the end of another thousand years will perhaps see the ripe fruits, while we have only seen the blossoms.

The world is certainly not a paradise, but it is better than when we had savages in the North and East. And all kings receive the crown and the pallium from Rome. You are a ruler over the nations, my Emperor."

"I? You rule their minds, not I, and I will not rule."

"So I have heard, for you have accepted the rule of a woman."

"Who is that?"

"They say, and you know the report as well as I do, that it is the widow of Crescentius, the beautiful Stephania. Well, that is your own affair, but Solomon says,--'Beware of your enemies, but be wary with your friends.'"

The Emperor looked as though he wished to defend himself, but could not, and so the conversation was at an end.

Some days after, Otto III was dead, poisoned, so ran the report, in some way or other, by the beautiful Stephania.

A year later Silvester II died also.

PETER THE HERMIT

Christendom had awoken to new life after the great and terrible New Year's Eve of 999. Nearly a hundred more years had pa.s.sed when a ragged barefooted pilgrim wandered out of the gate of Caesarea, on the sh.o.r.e of the Mediterranean. This was the town from which Paul had sailed for Rome in order to spread Christianity, which had now conquered all Europe, but had not been able to maintain a hold upon its birthplace, the Land of Promise, in which Christ had lived, suffered, and been buried.

The "False Prophet" had been the last possessor of Palestine. But when his kingdom, like all others, fell to pieces, quite a new race had issued from the unknown parts of Central Asia and now the Seljuks ruled in Syria. The last Fatimide Caliphs had been very indifferent in matters of belief, and the renowned Al Asis, who had married a Christian wife and was himself a sceptic, had made his wife's brothers Patriarchs of Jerusalem and Alexandria. Everything was altered since the time when the terrible Al Hakim had persecuted Christians as well as Jews, and destroyed the Church of the Resurrection in Jerusalem. And when the Seljuk Melikscha had at last captured the town, matters looked almost hopeless for the Christians, who still made pilgrimages to the Holy Sepulchre.

The pilgrim we spoke of above pursued his journey in a south-eastern direction, and now on the first day he saw the lovely Plain of Sharon spread out before him like a carpet or rather a sea of flowers--crocuses, narcissi, ranunculi, anemones, and especially the tall white Sharon lilies.

It was the Promised Land indeed! The whole of the morning he waded in flowers; at last he reached a village at the foot of a hill. There were waving corn-crops, climbing vines, flourishing olive and fig trees; well-fed cattle were watered at the spring, cows and goats were milked.

The pilgrim, who possessed nothing in the world except his rags, asked for a bowl of milk, but obtained none. He went begging from door to door, but was hunted away. Every time that he received a refusal he seemed to be surprisingly cheerful. The fact was, he had come hither from a distant land in order to be able to realise how his Saviour had suffered, and now he was graciously allowed to experience it on the holy soil itself. He pa.s.sed through the village, and found another sea of flowers outside it. He bathed his feet in a brook, and felt refreshed.

But now at mid-day a wind from the sea arose, and clouds pa.s.sed over the land. The violent rain beat down the fragile lilylike plants, the wind rooted them up or tore them in two, and collected them in heaps, which rolled along increasing in size as they went, and crushing other flowers in their path.

Towards evening the rain ceased, but the wind continued to blow, and the darkness came. The weary and hungry traveller prepared himself a bed with a heap of flowers which he kept in its place with some stones.

After he had hollowed out the heap till it looked like an eagle's nest, he spread another pile of flowers over himself, and went to sleep, pleasantly narcotised by all the sweet scents. For several years he had tasted no wine and never been intoxicated, but this was a good subst.i.tute for it. He did not know whether he was asleep or awake; sometimes he felt as though he were rolling away like a wave; sometimes he lay still and listened to a scratching going on in his nest; there was a blowing and a roaring, a murmur in his ears and flashing before his eyes. Finally all was still; he believed he had gone to sleep, for he dreamt.

In his dream he was walking on the Mediterranean Sea; that he found quite natural, but there followed him knights on horseback, troops of armed men, whole races of people. They reached the land, they marched towards the East, and finally saw Jerusalem crowning the heights. Walls, battlements, and towers were crowded with heathen warriors, and the Christian knights halted in order to take counsel. But he, the poor pilgrim, spoke to them, and they listened to him.