That evening the residence of Lucius was a scene of gaiety and splendour.

Venusta welcomed her husband with the true feelings of a loyal wife, and Nika was glad at the return of her father; she could now repose on his protective presence.

Many of the n.o.bles of Ephesus had gathered there--artists and sculptors, philosophers and warriors, lovely women, Greeks and Romans, maidens of Caria, Priene, and girls from Samos blended in one great ma.s.s of power and beauty.

The sweet day still cast its soft light, and lit up the lovely flowers and beautiful trees of olive, cypress, pine, and myrtle. The sun had lost its power, the atmosphere was deliciously cool, and many came from within to breathe the refreshing air ere the dew bathed the gra.s.s and the night-birds sang from the grove, or the twilight heralded the night and the stars encircled the moon.

Nika, leaning on the arm of Lucius, stood by a great white marble fountain--he the bronzed sea-warrior, and she like a dream of spring.

'Tell me, child--for many seasons have rolled away since I left thee and thy mother to visit those lovely isles in the far-off west--is thy young heart sound like thy father's barque after the battling of the stormy seas, or has Cupid laid siege and thou capitulated?'

'Nay, father, Nika's heart is free, neither could it be otherwise, for it is hard as the marble of this fountain, colder than the water which springs from each chaste design.'

'Ah, girl, thou art, I fear, like others of thy s.e.x, p.r.o.ne to sail under false colours when a lover is in chase. Tell me, where is Chios? I thought he would have been here. Was he not bidden?'

'He was, but there is no written law for him. He moves in his own eccentric orbit. He will come when most unexpected, suddenly, like an eagle from the clear blue depths of the sky, or as a comet from out the midnight gloom.'

'Why, daughter, there he is, conversing with that sweet maid of Smyrna!

Let us crowd all sail, and bear down on his weather. Quickly! I like that boy, and, if my reckoning be correct, thou dost not dislike him. Am I right?'

'Well, I like him, and I like him not. He has mixed much with the people of the new faith, and ever as he goes that way his mind becomes o'erclouded with gloom. He is strangely abstracted, scarce a word escapes his lips. Were it not for this strange faith which spells him, I should say he loved, and, if 'twere love, I should not be the idol of his choice.'

'Who, then?'

'I know not;' and a painful sorrow pa.s.sed across her brow, but Lucius saw it not.

The night came down, and beacon fires glared out on every hill and mountain-top. Coressus and Pion were aflame, great torches whirled and rushed wildly up and down the mountain-side, and moved in fiery lines throughout the city streets.

The lamps were lit within, and windows made of richly-coloured gla.s.s, amber, blue, and ruby, shone forth in lovely harmony and glorious hues, until the myrtle-trees, with their great white blossoms and perfumed breath, seemed quivering with delight. Merry songs, with laughter and rippling music, floated on the lazy air. Joy ran riot in the house of Lucius, and the meanest slave had for a time a share of happiness. The hours rolled on in pleasure, like a stately ship on a sunny sea.

Down deep in the heart of Nika joy was mockery.

The guests departed, and she retired to her chamber. Throwing herself on a couch, she wept great tears of anguish, a tide of tears no joy could stay.

She arose and gazed out into the darkness, and saw the looming of the great Temple rearing its majestic form in sable gloom, darker than the night; and she looked into the great unfathomable depths of the skies, and sighed like the deep moaning of the wind. But the heavens were as bra.s.s, and the great sigh died without becoming a prayer.

Moving back silently to her couch, she lay down, but not to sleep, for she heard strange sounds arise from the sacred grove, and she knew the songs of the night came up from the Temple of Hecate.

The morning came, and with it the springs of life revived, and she said: 'Why this sadness? why this harvest of gloom? I will awaken myself, tear this veil of night from around my spirit. I will lay bare my soul to the glorious sunlight, drink in its glory until I am saturated with delight.

I will not weep; I will not mourn; I defy this spell; I challenge this curse--this brand of h.e.l.l! Oh that it were always day, that the sun never set, and my mind were as strong as now!' and she flung the great ma.s.ses of wavy hair back from her stately forehead, and it fell to the ground, enshrouding her form till she looked like a G.o.ddess on earth.

'Why art thou so late, dear, to thy morning meal?' said Venusta. 'Come, sit by my side, and tell me what thinkest thou of last night's innocent revelry? Was it not a right hearty welcome to thy father, most fitting to receive him? and didst thou note that n.o.ble Roman who stood next but one to thee when those dancing-girls came forward to dance to us? I know thou sawest him, Nika, for I saw your eyes meet. Well, he has come from Rome to govern. He is the new Proconsul. His influence in the imperial city is great. Besides, he is positively a favourite with the Emperor. I tell thee all this that thou mayest know of him. Moreover, Lucius has bidden him to spend this evening here, and thou wilt have ample time to satisfy thy curious mind respecting him, and, fortunately or unfortunately, as the Fates may determine, Chios also will be here.

Nika, take care; this Roman is not a child or a fool! They say he is impetuous, firm, resolute when need be. Now let us join my husband. I see him yonder gathering flowers.'

Lucius came to them, smiling as he came. He offered a rose to Nika, but Venusta said: 'No, no; let me choose first! I will take the rose. Give her an unthorned flower; the emblem of evil and good, pleasure and pain, shall be mine, for we twain are one, husband, and if this flower presages aught than happiness, then may I, thy loving wife, rest on thy strong arm, as this rose clung to the oak from which thou pluckedst it.'

Nika was walking solitary, alone.

'Give her a bloom which speaks the language of hope;' and he approached and gave her the pink-white almond flower.

CHAPTER VII

CAUGHT

'Venusta,' said Lucius, 'I have been thinking of that slave girl, the dark Phoenician maid, Saronia; I see her not in her accustomed place. I feel a keen interest in that weird beauty. What of her? Is she dead, or what?'

'She is as good as dead to us, dear. She is at the Temple, and has been initiated as a priestess for the presiding G.o.ddess.'

'Priestess! priestess! What does it all mean? Light dawns! I saw her--yes, I saw her--as I pa.s.sed through the city yesterday. Now I understand. Hear me. As I pa.s.sed near the great theatre some maidens of the Temple came that way. I stood still, with bared head; the sounds of greeting were stayed until they went with solemn tread; and, as they pa.s.sed, one with eyes deep-looking like the ocean's depths, turned them full on me, and gazed into my inner soul, and, like a barque which strikes a sunken rock and staggers, so did my spirit. I did my best to divine who she was, but all was dark, and I moved on with clouded mind.

Now I know. Why is she there? Some great mystery hangs over it. I am not usually given to fear, but somehow I feel a sorrow of this event.'

Then did Venusta tell him of what had occurred--told him that only which she thought would screen herself and Nika.

The old commander saw too plainly that one side only of the story had been told, and felt confirmed in his suspicions when he saw his daughter's eyes suffused with tears. He, with that true manliness which permeated him, said but little, for fear he might know too much, and deeper wound the pent-up feelings of his child.

That evening the Roman n.o.bleman arrived, and was warmly welcomed by Lucius, and introduced to Venusta and Nika; and Varro was soon at home, for at first sight he loved the sailor's daughter, and at once made up his mind to lay siege; but, Roman-like, he would mature his plans before declaring war. Besides, he knew not if a rival were in the field and would join the girl as firm ally.

It is well known how difficult it is to entertain a stranger the first quarter of an hour. One would know his pet theories and touch on them, so that the newcomer might lead off and rejoice; but even the astute mind of the wife of Lucius was puzzled to divine the inclinations of the Roman--he was impenetrable, a perfect blank; but the truth was this: the Roman tactician had but one thought just then, and that was of Nika, and it developed so rapidly that it was undiscovered. Had it been, it were not food for conversation; so Venusta opened fire with the beauties of the city, for the weather at that season of the year was nearly always fine.

'Well, how dost thou like our n.o.ble city, the envied of the world? Hast seen the great Gymnasium, the Serapion, the theatre?'

'Yea, my lady, I have, as much as one can in so short a time as I have lived within the great heart of this beautiful place. Rome is great, but Ephesus is lovely--the very air seems laden with rejoicings. Surely this must be the Elysian city on earth!'

'Thou art too complimentary; but, as thou sayest, it is lovely. Didst thou notice the double colonnade around the Agora, and the many mighty statues there? And what thinkest thou of the lovely little Odeum nestling at the feet of Mount Pion, and the great Stadium around the hillside to the west? Is it not n.o.ble?'

'Yes, it is fine, a magnificent racecourse; and I am told seventy thousand people will not fill it to overflowing. Is this so?'

'Yes; and you should see the charioteers in full swing.'

'But thou hast not spoken of the gem of the city, the great Temple of Diana?'

'No, I have not.'

'I pa.s.sed the Temple on my way hither, and I shall not soon forget when I stood without the Parabolus walls, and, looking through the entrance gate, gazed on the flight of marble steps leading up to the mighty building. I have seen nothing like it in my splendid Rome. Not only is the Temple great, but the very place on which it stands, surrounded with its sacred groves, seems a fit place for the birth of a G.o.ddess. I saw the shrine of Hecate lifting its head behind the mightier home of Diana, and heard songs of worship coming forth from both, sometimes low, as the murmur of a sinless child, then rising in great waves--billowy waves of jubilant harmony--until I seemed bound to the place by an invisible chain.'

Just then Chios was announced, and Varro saw by Nika's eyes that she had something more than respect for the Greek. Venusta was glad Chios had come, for she feared the Roman might continue to speak of the Temple, and that the conversation might drift towards the priestesses, and the name of Saronia be mentioned.

Chios appeared happy, save for the far-away look in his eyes. Nika was the only one who could read him and solve his abstraction. She spoke kindly to him, and gradually allowed her manner to change to freezing-point. This was strategic: she showed the Roman she valued little the friendship of the Greek, and Varro was deceived, and thought it true. There was no need for battle against this Ephesian artist. He could even use him to further his own ends to win the girl. No, Nika had slighted Chios--treated him coldly. He could now treat him courteously and fraternize; but, could he have looked into the girl's heart, he would have seen the image of Chios engraved there.

'How long,' said Varro, 'hast thou been in Ephesus?'

'From childhood,' replied Chios.