Under the Witches' Moon: A Romantic Tale of Mediaeval Rome

by Nathan Gallizier

  CHAPTER XIII

  THE CONVENT IN TRASTEVERE

  He stared at her speechless, so taken was he with the immensity of thething she had suggested. Fear, wonder, joy seemed to contend for themastery.

  "Why do you look at me so, Tristan?" she said at last. "What is it thatdaunts you?"

  "But how is this thing possible?" he stammered, still in a state ofbewilderment.

  "What difficulty does it present?" she returned. "The Lord Basilhimself has rendered very possible what I suggest. We may look on himto-morrow as our best friend--"

  "But Tebaldo knows," he interposed.

  "True! Deem you, he will dare to tell the world what he knows? He mightbe asked to tell how he came by his knowledge. And that might prove adifficult question to answer. Tell me, Tristan," she continued, "if hehad succeeded in carrying me away, what deem you would have been saidto-morrow in Rome when the coffin was found empty?"--

  "They would naturally assume that your body had been stolen by somewizard or some daring doctor of anatomy."

  "Ah! And if we were quietly to quit the church and be clear of Romebefore morning--would not the same be said?"

  He pondered a while, staggered by the immensity of the risk, whensuddenly a memory flashed through his mind that left his limbs numb asif they had been paralyzed by a thunderbolt.

  It was the night on which the terrible crime at the Lateran was to becommitted. Even now it could not be far from the midnight hour. Did hedare, even for the consideration of the greatest happiness which theworld and life had to give, to forego his duty towards the Church andthe Senator of Rome?

  Hellayne noted his hesitancy.

  "Why do you waste precious moments, Tristan?" she queried. "Is it thatyou do not love me enough?"

  A negative gesture came in response, and his eyes told her more thanwords could have expressed.

  At last he spoke.

  "If I hesitate," he said, trying to avoid the real issue, instead ofstating it without circumlocution, "it is because I would not have youdo now of what, hereafter, you might repent. I would not have you bemisled by the impulse of a moment into an act whose consequences mustendure while life endures."

  "Is that the reasoning of love?" she said very quietly. "Is this coldargument, this weighing of issues consistent with the hot passion youprofessed so lately?"

  "It is," he replied. "It is because I love you more than I love myself,that I would have you ponder, ere you adventure your life upon a brokenraft such as mine. You are still the wife of another."

  "No!" she replied, her eyes preternaturally brilliant in the intensityof her emotion. "Hellayne, the wife of Roger de Laval, is dead--asdead to him, as if she in reality were bedded in the coffin. Where ishe? Where is the man who should have been where you are, Tristan? Iventure to say his grief did not overburden him. He will find readyconsolation in the arms of another for the wife who was to him butthe plaything of his idle hours. He never loved me! He even threatenedto shut me up within convent walls for the rest of my days if I didnot return with him--his mistress,--his wife but in a name, a thingto submit to his loathsome kisses and caresses, while her soul isanother's. He himself and death, which perchance he himself decreed,have severed bonds no persuasion would have tempted me to break.Tristan, I am yours--take me."

  She held out her beautiful arms.

  He was in mortal torment.

  "Nevertheless, Hellayne, to-night of all nights it may not be--" hestammered. "Listen, dearest--"

  "Enough!" she silenced him, as she rose. She swept towards him and,before he knew it, her hands were on his shoulders, her face upturned,her blue eyes holding his own, depriving him of will and resistance.

  "Tristan," she said, and there was an intensity almost fierce in hertones, "moments are fleeting, and you stand there reasoning with me andbidding me weigh what already is weighed for all time. Will you waituntil escape is rendered impossible, until we are discovered, beforeyou will decide to save me and to grasp with both hands the happinessthat is yours; this happiness that is not twice offered in a lifetime?"

  She was so close to him that he could almost feel the beating ofher heart. He was now as wax in her hands. Forgotten were allconsiderations of rank and station. They were just man and woman whosefates were linked together irrevocably. Under the sway of an impulse hecould not resist, he kissed her upturned face, her lips, her eyes. Thenhe broke from her clasp and, bracing himself for the task to which theystood committed by that act, he said, the words tumbling from his lips:

  "Hellayne, we know not who is abroad to-night. We know not whatdangers are lurking in the shadows. Tebaldo and his men may even now bescouring the streets of Rome for a fugitive, and once in their powerall the saints could not save us from our doom. I know not the objectof this plot of which you were the victim, and even the Lord Rogermay be but the dupe of another. I will take you to the convent of theBlessed Sisters of Santa Maria in Trastevere, that you may dwell therein safety until I have ascertained that all danger is past. You shallenter as my sister, trying to escape the attention of an unwelcomesuitor. But the thing that chiefly exercises my mind now is how to makeour escape unobserved."

  Hellayne nodded dreamily.

  "I have thought of it already."

  "You have thought of it?" he replied. "And of what have you thought?"

  For answer she stepped back a pace and drew the cowl of the monk'shabit over her head until her features were lost in the shadows. Hermeaning was clear to him at once. With a cry of relief he turned tothe drawer whence he had taken the habit in which she was arrayed and,selecting another, he hastily donned it above the garments he wore.

  No sooner was it done than he caught her by the arm.

  There was no time to be lost. Moments were flying.

  If he should be too late at the Lateran!

  "Come!" he said in an urgent voice.

  At the first step she stumbled. The habit was so long that it cumberedher feet. But that was a difficulty soon overcome. Without regardingthe omen, he cut with his dagger a piece from the skirt, enough toleave her freedom of movement and, this accomplished, they set out.

  They crossed the church swiftly and silently, then entered the porch,where he left her in order to peer out upon the street. All was quiet.Rome was wrapt in sleep. From the moon he gleaned it wanted less thanan hour to midnight.

  Drawing their cowls about their faces, they abandoned the main streets,Tristan conducting his charge through narrow alleys, deserted of theliving. These lanes were dark and steep, the moonlight being unable topenetrate the chasms formed between the tall, ill-favored houses. Theystumbled frequently, and in some places he carried her almost bodily,to avoid the filth of the quarter they were traversing.

  The night was solemn and beautiful. Myriads of stars paved the deepvault of heaven. The moon, now in her zenith, hung like a silver lampin the midst of them; a stream of quivering, rosy light, issuing fromthe north, traversed the sky like the tail of some stupendous comet,sending forth, ever and anon, corruscations like flaming meteors.

  At last they reached the Transtiberine region and the convent ofSanta Maria in Trastevere hove into sight. The range of habitationsaround were in a ruinous state and the whole aspect of the region wasso dismal as to encourage but few ramblers to venture there afternightfall.

  Passing through the ill-famed quarter of the Sclavonians, where, inafter time, one of the blackest crimes in history was committed,Tristan and Hellayne at last arrived before the gates of the convent.They had spoken but little, dreading even the faintest echo of theirfootsteps might bring a pursuer on their track. Their summons foradmission was, after a considerable wait, answered by the porter ofthe gate, who, upon seeing two monks, relinquished his station by thewicket and descended to inquire into their behest.

  Hellayne shrank up to Tristan, as the latter stated their purpose andthe old monk, unable to understand the jargon of his belated caller,withdrew, mumbling some equally unintelligible reply.

  Hellayne's eyes
were those of a frightened deer.

  "What will he do, Tristan?" she whispered, "Oh, Tristan, do not leaveme! I feel I shall never see you again, Tristan--my love--take meaway--I am afraid--"

  He held her close to him.

  "There is nothing to fear, my Hellayne! To-morrow night I shall returnand place you safely where we may see each other till I have absolvedmy duties to the Senator. Do not fear, sweetheart! Of all the abodesin Rome the sanctity of the convent is inviolate! But I hear stepsapproaching--some one is coming. Courage, dearest--remember how much isat stake!"

  Another moment and they stood before the Abbess of Santa Maria inTrastevere.

  Summoning all his presence of mind, Tristan told his tale and madehis request. Danger lurking in the infatuation of a Roman noble wasthreatening his sister. She had fled from his innuendos and begged theconvent's asylum for a brief space of time, when he, Tristan, wouldclaim her. He explained Hellayne's attire, and the Abbess, raising thewoman's head, looked long and earnestly into her face.

  What she saw seemed to confirm of the truth of Tristan's speech, andshe agreed readily to his request. Tristan kissed Hellayne on the brow,then, after a brief and affectionate farewell and the assurance that hewould return on the following day, he left her in charge of the BlessedSisters. With a sob she followed the Abbess and the gates shut behindthem.

  For a moment Tristan felt as if all the world about him was sinkinginto a dark bottomless pit.

  Then, suppressing an outcry of anguish, his winged feet bore him acrossRome towards the Basilica of St. John in Lateran.