The woman's face grew pale as death.

'Wilt thou bury my secret in thy heart, and close thy lips for ever on it?'

'Be quick, say on! First, who art thou?'

'The mother of Chios!'

'_Thou!_'

'Yes, I am.'

'What art thou?'

'I was a priestess at Delos, where Apollo and Diana came forth--a priestess of the Oracle. Broke my vows; wed; fell to what thou seest me: a priestess of high degree acting--acting the part of a hag. I was doomed to death. The people think me dead, but I live, deserted by the one who caused my fall. I live, thirsting for revenge--I, Endora the witch, eking a crust of bread by fortune-telling and love philtres, bearing the load of Hecate's curse. I they call Endora am no other than Myrtile of Delos! Now, n.o.ble Saronia, thou knowest how love is dead, and I the accursed. Oftentimes I come here and gaze across the aegean Sea towards the far-off sunny isle of Delos, where it lies like a jewel in the sea--Delos, where the laurel trembled at the coming of the unseen G.o.ds, where temples, amphitheatres, and colonnades crowned every crest, and filled the vales of the lovely home of Latona.'

For a moment, as Saronia thought of her own mother, a shudder pa.s.sed.

'Twas but a moment, and the priestess looked as calm as summer eve.

'Hast thou ever told the story to another?'

'No, no, and no human being but the mighty Saronia should ever have drawn it from me. Thou by thy power dost compel me to act unwillingly. I would far rather have buried it under those blue, seething waters and have ended my course.'

'It is well. See thou dost guard it; see thou dost guard it. Now, what can I do for thee? When humble was my lot and thou sawest my exaltation nigh, thou saidst, "Remember me when thou enterest on thy high estate."

What may be done for thee?'

'Nothing. I go my way, leaving in thy keeping my awful secret, and trust thy silence. I go to my den on the mountain side, unwinding my fate. The thread will soon be broken, but ere it snaps my mission will be perfected.'

'Hast thou a mission?'

'As truly as yon pa.s.sing ship glides on towards the harbour mouth, and until it be accomplished Endora is the witch of Ephesus, the blackened soul. After that, I know not what.'

'Can I aid thee? Gold I have; take some.'

'No. I am not thankless, but have sufficient. Can Endora be of service to _thee_?'

'I fear not.'

'Then adieu. I shall come to this loved spot again. It is the nearest I can come to my beloved Delos.'

She crept away amongst the golden flowers down the side of the cliff.

The seagull cried to its mate, the waves dashed up their foam till it mixed with the silvery light, and falling like showers of dew, lay on the lips of the flowers.

And Saronia, the High Priestess of Diana, stood out against sky and sea, stood out against silver and blue, the great globed sun, a circle of light, forming a halo around her head.

CHAPTER x.x.xIII

NIKA

'He is away, my lord and master, my wedded husband, the Proconsul of Ephesus. Gone to Rome on State matters. Let him go! There are other Romans here as good as he, perhaps better. I shall mix with them, and, doing so, further hate the man I am tied to, sold to. I hate him! There is but one love in my heart--the love for Chios, who spurns it. Stay! I wonder if there be another beside Chios who may quench this flame devouring me? There may be. And this I determine, wherever I find love in unison, thither will I advance, and that immediately before Varro's return. Varro! Varro! what care I for Varro? I will deceive him if it pleases me. The world will call me vile if they discover. What care I for the world? What care I for the worms which crawl? Many worse than Nika. No, what cares Nika, accursed of Hecate? Take thy pleasure; to love is life, and union of souls is strength even if we be but two--'tis better than one against the hosts of h.e.l.l! Nika is single-handed; Nika has no kindred soul to join in the fight--Nika the doomed one, against whom the Fates war, around whom the Furies rage. Arouse thyself! Set thy face against what is called goodness, chast.i.ty! Defy those princ.i.p.alities and powers which torture thee, laugh at thee, shatter thy hopes, d.a.m.n thee for the next life, before thou puttest aside the vile clay of this, make sport of thy soul ere half the circle of thy days is spent!

'No, no! Enough, enough! I will fill my cup with every pleasure, if well deep enough be found. I will joy in the sunshine, if it be but for one day, like the many-coloured lily which opens to the morning sun and dies at eventide. Away, Nika, to the world of pleasure! But first drink deep of Grecian wine to brace thyself. What care I for peace? I shall be no worse than many of my Romans.'

The sun went down like an angry G.o.d, the west was ablaze with lurid gleam, the winds rushed in from the sea and smote the land, burying it with a shroud of foam. The rain descended in torrents and deluged the sh.o.r.e. The storm pa.s.sed through the great city and away over the mountain-tops. The streets were deserted and a gloom rested on the land.

One solitary human being might have been seen winding her way from place to place, and up the mountain side towards the home of Nika. With wet and clinging garments she hesitated in front of the house. Watching an opportunity, she pushed through the hedgerow of myrtles and stood within the garden. Stealthily she crept from shrub to shrub, now under the shelter of a laurel, then tearing through a ma.s.s of roses and trampling under feet the loveliest flowers, scarcely knowing whither she went, but making for a light which filtered through a window of many-coloured gla.s.s, until at last she stood in front of it, and dimly saw the overhanging jasmine and the great, white flowers of the magnolia. For a moment the perfume, like an angel guardian, uttered protest and dared approach, but the spirit impelling that form enveloped in soaking garb was one not long to be brooked by sentiment, and she moved like a panther carefully forward, and peered through the cas.e.m.e.nt left open to admit the perfumed air. She gazed anxiously through the opening, and saw the form of the beautiful Nika sitting on a low chair. The double tablet of wax lay upon her knees, and in her hand was an ivory point chased with diamonds. She had just written, and was evidently agitated.

At the sight of this the soul of the woman without was moved to its very depths, and she longed to behold what was marked on the tablet. The divining power of her spirit a.s.serted itself, and she knew by the writer's look that it was a message of importance, and probably one of love. She waited till Nika had finished it; then the Roman stretched out her white arms and flung herself back in a deep reverie.

The eyes of the witch Endora were directed steadily on her, and as she gazed, Nika fell asleep, and her hands drooped listlessly by her side.

Like a snake, Endora glided into the room, reached the sleeping Roman, then, gently raising the tablet from her knee, she moved as softly and serpent-like from the room, and stole back by the way she came--back through the deserted streets, up the hill Pion to her cave.

Once inside, she bolted the rough door, through the c.h.i.n.ks of which the wind moaned.

Lighting her lamp, she stripped off her saturated clothes. Before even she kindled a fire, she drew out the stolen thing, and, with straining eyes, read its contents. Then a h.e.l.lish satisfaction lit up her haggard face, and she laughed with fiendish glee, murmuring to herself, fearful of listening ears:

'Ha, ha, ha! My mistress Nika, thou hast a lover. Thou art safe now in the meshes of the fowler. The measure thou hast meted out to others shall be measured back to thee again--again, I say. And the house of Venusta shall sorrow, as they say the Egyptians did for their first-born. Not only shall they suffer on thine account; their own sins shall weigh mightily on them. Yea, root and branch shall suffer, and they shall wither away until not a footfall of theirs be heard, nor an echo of their voices resound through their marble home. The witch Endora, like a Ca.s.sandra, smells the past, and speaks of evil.

'Day after day, night after night, have I been on the trail, tracked her like a bloodhound, haunted her to earth. I lie not; she is worse than I!

The Roman shall know all, and Saronia, whom she tortured, be avenged. If her soul is too kind to feed upon such a rare morsel, then the witch of Ephesus--I, Endora--will do so, and gloat over the fate of Nika, proud, despicable daughter of Lucius the Roman! Now let me breathe the air; the stormy air, the sunlight, and the breeze belong to me as much as to the good.'

CHAPTER x.x.xIV

THE HOROSCOPE

Nika was pale and worn, and scarcely spoke.

'What ails thee, dearest wife?' said Varro.

'Naught,' replied she; 'tired only. All night long have I watched through the storm. I knew by the signal-fires thou wert off the harbour mouth. Dost thou think I could rest when my lord rode on the top of crested waves, and the creaking timbers of the vessel sang omens fierce and loud? No, no; Nika is of different mould. My father is a warrior and a sailor, and ofttimes has he told me of the fearful perils of the seas.'

'Nika, thou art my darling wife! How hast thou fared during my absence?

Hast thou longed for my coming?'