The Roman took her up and laid her on a couch, her hair flowing in golden ma.s.ses to the ground, and her face like the face of death when Chios painted her!

He called a slave to attend to Nika, hurried to his apartment, and sent word to Venusta instructing her to come immediately, stating her daughter was ill.

Venusta came, and was terror-stricken at her daughter's appearance, and that day the wife of the Proconsul was removed to her mother's home on the side of Mount Coressus.

CHAPTER x.x.xV

THE VIRGIN CAVE

In the Sacred Grove of Hecate, where the sun lit up the cypress-trees, and the birds sang on the billowy branches of the cl.u.s.ter-pine, and laurels greeted the G.o.ds, waving their dark-green foliage on the whispering air; where roses twined like weary children round the olive-trees, and oleanders, white as snow and pink as rosy dawn, bent down and kissed the murmuring brook; where the pale narcissi mirrored themselves in silent pools like stars of silver on the solemn sea, and the maddening perfume of that lovely flower mingled with the odour of the sweet gra.s.s, wild thyme, and violets--here the blue celandine and hyacinth vied in colour with the saffron flower and scarlet poppy, sacred to Diana, and every bloom was the emblem of a G.o.d; and the nymphs kept guard o'er sacred trees, and naiades revelled in gayest dance the long night through.

The Sacred Cave was here--the Virgin Cave of Hecate, around which, like lost souls out of place, grew alder, dark, deadly aconite, and branches green of juniper, waiting their call to burn as incense to the infernal G.o.ddess.

A winding pathway led down to the cave, the cave of trial.

Its doors were strong, of olive wood, with tracings wrought in gold. On either side uprose stout pillars of malachite; and over the entrance, in curious marble richly carved, were figures of Hecate in judgment.

Within this cave none but the pure might enter. There was the sacred syrinx--should a woman go therein, the doors closed by invisible hands.

If pure, a soft and heavenly strain was heard, and the doors opening of their own accord, the honoured woman appeared crowned with a garland of leaves of pine; but if guilty, sobs and disconsolate weeping were audible, and the people pa.s.sed away, leaving her to her fate. And after three suns had risen and set, the High Priestess entered, found the cave empty, and the syrinx fallen to the ground.

This was the day Nika would enter the cave. No hope had come. Day after day she had gazed over the blue sea with the vain thought that she might catch a glimpse of her father's fleet returning. Not a vestige of it hove in sight. To the last she buoyed herself with the hope that aid would come and save her from this frightful ordeal; but no. The sky was cloudless, the ocean calm--calm and unruffled as a sleeping child.

The priests and priestesses of the Temple would accompany her in solemn procession, and Nika, clad in garments of black, would be taken to the Sacred Grove. Torch-bearers and heralds would lead them by the tufts of yellow iris down the winding path to the cave, outside which an altar stood, and the great Saronia waited, with head thrown back and hands outspread towards the ground; her raven hair flowed down and lay in waves on folds of costly yellow silk bestudded with stars; her face was calm as death, rigid as a marble statue; emotion showed no place in that mysterious being.

Five beautiful girls, the loveliest of Ionia, priestesses of the G.o.ddess, bees of the Temple, waited on her; but the beauty and dignity of the great High Priestess outshone them all, as the rising sun puts out the light of the silvery stars.

The black lamb had been sacrificed to Hecate, and its crimson blood streamed over the altar into the earth.

The priestesses were hidden from view by a turning in the way, and it was only when the last tall lines of myrtles were pa.s.sed that they could be seen. But the clanging of cymbals was near, the strains of the lyre broke in, and the low tones of the mellow flute kept up a sacred melody.

The first of the heralds drew near the altar sacrifice, stood still a moment, then blew a blast which made the blossoms quiver; and the procession came with measured tread, carrying banners many-coloured, and bearing symbols of the G.o.ddess which glittered in the sunlight.

Nika, pale and trembling, stood within a circle of the priests, enveloped by the many standards which they bore.

Suddenly the silken shields were lowered, the circle broke in twain, and formed a guard on either side; and Nika, looking down between the lines, saw the dark face and towering form of Saronia standing by the altar.

With one loud, piercing cry of anguish, the girl rushed madly towards her, and when within three paces plucked a jewelled dagger from her bosom, and made to plunge it into the heart of her former slave.

One look from the mystic eyes of the High Priestess overawed her, and she shielded her face with her mantle of black.

No tremor pa.s.sed the face of the High Priestess. It was fixed like a cold, pale moon in the cloudless sky. She could have slain Nika had she chosen. Her glistening dagger remained untouched. She heeded it not, but moved solemnly towards the cowering girl, holding forth her hands as she approached her, saying:

'Lean on me, fair woman of Rome. I may make thy burden less.'

The eyes of Nika rolled back their maddening look, and gazed into those of the priestess.

'O Saronia, Saronia, save me! or, if thou canst not, then forgive!'

For the first time the face of the High Priestess relaxed, and it was veiled with a look of pity.

'Would I could help thee, Nika! In this case I have not power. I stand here, not to punish, but to perform the sacred rites my office demands; but I forgive thee, forgive thee, Nika, whatever may be thy fate.'

The low tones of Diana's hymn broke the stillness, and Saronia led the trembling woman to the Virgin Cave of Hecate.

The great doors swung back, the doors of olive were wide apart, and soft Ionian music floated by like the rhythm of angels' wings.

'Nika--let me kiss thee, Nika.'

And Saronia took the face bestrewn with golden hair between her jewelled hands, and pa.s.sionately kissed the trembling lips of the daughter of Lucius.

Then she led the fated woman to the cave, and left her.

The great doors flew back like the jaws of death, and in a moment or two sounds of weeping were heard, and the people turned away. Full well they knew the syrinx had fallen, and Nika was gone--for ever.

CHAPTER x.x.xVI

REVERIE

The pa.s.sing of Nika spoke strongly to Saronia. She had lived with her, served with her, felt the keen injustice of her nature, and now the end had come.

Had it been woman against woman, she would not have crushed the Roman; but it was not so. It was a woman in conflict with the G.o.ddess. Saronia had been powerless to help, and dared not question the vengeance of Hecate.

She sympathized with Lucius, her old master, always kind; pictured him returning to Ephesus, hastening to his home on the Coressian hill, expecting loving greeting, hearing the dreadful death of his only child from a broken-hearted wife. She saw the tears streaming down the face of the weather-beaten mariner, and watched the wrecked soul as it looked out through the l.u.s.treless eyes.

It was horrible to think of all this, and to dwell on the thought that question after question would arise in his mind why the Fates did not sooner bring him home that he might have saved her--fought for her, if need be; and, above all, why did not Saronia protect her against the power of the Roman, Proconsul though he was? He would revert back to the time when he saw her at the altar steps looking sweetly on him and his sailors when they came to pray.

All the agony of Lucius came before her, and her spirit was clouded with gloom.

She threw herself down, and buried her beautiful face, sighing as if her heart would rend in twain. She was a woman, not a G.o.ddess--a woman with sympathies keen enough to feel for others, even to the binding up of the broken-hearted and offering forgiveness to her most violent foe.

A mysterious link had suddenly snapped in her chain of destiny. What it was she could not divine.

The death of Nika moved her in a peculiar manner, such as nothing else had done since the deep of her being was broken up by the call of the great spirit to follow the G.o.ddess.

It was a dark chapter in her life's history, and she earnestly desired to know its hidden meaning; she would wait patiently until the time came when all should be revealed.

She arose, looked towards the sea, and saw in vision the white sails of the fleet of Lucius bringing him to port.

A storm crossed her face, as when the icy winds of winter furrow the waves and clouds swoop down to wed the foaming main. Her whole nature trembled like the shaken hull of a tempest-haunted ship. The spirit of Hecate was on her, and the voice of the terrible G.o.ddess rang out in her soul:

'Tell him the curse hath killed her! Say the G.o.ds are avenged!'