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

by Nathan Gallizier

  CHAPTER IV

  A LYING ORACLE

  It was an eventful night in Rome and, although for that reason welladapted to deeds of violence, the tumult and confusion exacted greatcaution from those who wished to proceed without interruption along thestreets.

  A storm had burst as out of a clear sky, and was sweeping in its furythroughout a large portion of the city. Like all similar outbreaks, itgathered force from many sources unconnected with its original course.

  Rome was the theatre that night of a furious strife between the greatfeudal houses which lorded it over the city.

  The Leonine city with its protecting walls did not exist until somedecades later. Thus, not only hordes of marauding Saracens, but Franksand Teutons used to make occasional inroads to the very gates of thecity. On this evening Pandulph of Benevento, having taken umbrage atsome decision of the Sacred Consistory regarding the lands he held asfief of the Church, conferring upon him a title which was disputed byWido of Praeneste, had broken into the city and a bloody and obstinateconflict was being waged between his forces and the soldiers of theChurch. The Roman nobles, ever restless and ready to revolt alike fromthe authority of the Emperor or of the Church, would not let thisglorious opportunity pass without reminding those in power that theyhad built upon a volcano. They joined in the fray, some taking thepart of the invader, others of the Church.

  An hour or two before sunset an undisciplined horde of mercenaries,armed cap-a-pie, and formidable chiefly for the wild fury with whichthey seemed inspired, attacked the Mausoleum of the Flavian Emperor.The assailants, having no engines of war either for protection orassault, suffered severely from the missiles showered upon them by thebesieged. Being repulsed after repeated assaults, they threw flamingtorches into the houses that lined the river on the opposite shore andwithdrew. From another quarter of the city a large body of Epirotes,who had hoisted the standard of the Lord Gisulph of Salerno and hadalready suffered one defeat, which rather roused their animositythan quelled their ardor, were advancing in good order. Before theLateran they met the forces of Pandulph of Benevento, and a terriblehand-to-hand encounter ensued. Nor was man the only demon on the scene.Unsexed women with bare bosoms, wild eyes and streaming hair, the veryoutcast of the Roman scum, their feet stained with blood, flew to andfro, stimulating each other to fresh atrocities with wine, caresses andribald mirth. It was a feast of Death and Sin. She had wreathed herwhite arms about the spectral king and crowned his fleshless head withher gaudy garlands, wrapped him in a mantle of flame and pressed theblood-red goblet to his lips, maddening him with her shrieks of wild,mocking mirth, the while mailed feet trampled out the lives of theirvictims on the flagstones of Rome.

  Through a town in such a state of turmoil and confusion Tebaldo tookit upon himself to conduct in safety the prize he had succeeded incapturing, not, it must be confessed, without many hearty regrets thathe had ever embarked on the enterprise.

  It was indeed a difficult and perilous task. He had been compelled todismiss his men long ago, in order not to attract attention. Therewas but room for himself and one stout slave, beside the charioteerand his captive. The latter had struggled violently and required to beheld down by sheer force, nor, in muffling her screams, was it easy toobserve the happy medium between silence and suffocation. Also, it wasindispensable in the present state of lawlessness to avoid observation,and the spectacle of a golden chariot with a woman prisoner, gaggedand veiled, the whole drawn by four spirited black steeds, wasnot calculated to avoid suspicion and comment. Stefano, Tebaldo'sunderling, had indeed suggested a litter, but this had been overruledby his comrade on the score of speed, and now the congestion of thestreets made speed impossible. To be sure, this enabled his escort tokeep up with them at a distance, but a fight at this present momentwas little to Tebaldo's taste. The darkness which should have favoredhim was dispelled by the numerous conflagrations in the various partsof the city, and when the chariot was stopped and forced to run intoa by-street, to avoid a crowd running toward the Campo Marzo, Tebaldofelt his heart sink within him in an access of terror such as even hehad rarely felt before.

  Up one street, down another, avoiding the main thoroughfares, nowrendered impassable by the throngs, the charioteer directed his steedstowards Basil's palace on the Pincian Hill.

  Hellayne seemed to have either fainted, or resigned herself to herfate, for she had ceased to struggle and cowered on the floor ofthe chariot, silent and motionless. Tebaldo hoped his difficultieswere over, and promised himself never again to be concerned in suchan affair. Already he imagined himself safe on his patron's porch,claiming his reward, when his advance was stopped by a pageant, whichpromised a protracted and hazardous delay.

  Winding its slow way along, with all the pomp and splendor attendingit, a procession of chariots crossed in front of Tebaldo's steeds,and not a man in Rome would have dared to break in upon the train ofTheodora, who was abroad to view the strife of the factions, utterlyindifferent to the perils of the venture.

  It may be that something whispered to Hellayne that, of the two perilsconfronting her, what she contemplated was the lesser, and no soonerdid the car stop to let the chariots pass, than, tearing away thebandage, she uttered a piercing scream, which brought it to a halt atonce, while Tebaldo, trying to wear a bold front, quaked in every limb.

  At a signal from the woman in the first chariot her giant Africansseized the shaking Tebaldo and surrounded his chariot. Already a crowdof curious spectators was gathering, and the glare of the bonfires,kindled here and there, shed its light on their dark, eager faces,contrasting strangely with the veiled form of a woman, cold andimmobile as marble.

  Two of the Africans seized Tebaldo, and buffeted him unceremoniouslyto within a few paces of the occupant of the chariot. Here he stood,speechless and trembling, anger and fear contending for the mastery,which changed to dismay as the woman raised her veil with a handgleaming white as ivory.

  "Do you know me?"

  Whatever he had intended to say, the words died on Tebaldo's lips.

  "The Lady Theodora!"

  "You still have your wits about you," replied the woman. "Whom have youthere?"

  The cold sweat stood on the brow of Basil's henchman.

  "The run-away mistress of my lord," he said, looking from right to leftfor some one to prompt him, some escape from the dilemma.

  "Who is your master?" Theodora queried curtly.

  "The Lord Basil--"

  "The Lord Basil!" shrilled Theodora. "Indeed I knew not he had lost amistress. Yet I saw him within the hour and had speech with him."--

  Stefano had meanwhile come up, composed and sedate, little guessingthe quality of his companion's interlocutor, with the air of a manconfident in the justice of his case.

  "Where are you taking this woman?" Theodora queried.

  Tebaldo attempted to speak, but Stefano anticipated him.

  "To the palace of my Lord Basil on the Pincian Hill, noble lady," hesaid with many obese bows. "Suffer us to proceed, for the streets arebecoming more unsafe every moment and our lord will not be trifled within matters of this kind."

  "Indeed," Theodora interposed. "Is his heart so much set upon thisprize? Ho there, Bahram--Yussuff--bring the woman here!"

  Tebaldo tried to worm himself out of the clutch of the black giants, inorder to prevent them from obeying Theodora's order, but he found thesituation hopeless and was about to address Theodora when the latterbade him be silent.--

  "The woman shall speak for herself," she said in a tone that sufferedno contradiction and, in another moment, Hellayne, lifted by fourmuscular arms from the chariot of her abductors, stood, released of herbandages, before Theodora.

  All color left the Roman's face as she gazed into the pallid andanguished features of the woman whom of all women on earth she fearedand hated most, the woman who dared to enter the arena with her for thelove of the one man whom she was determined to possess, if the universeshould crumble to atoms. Hellayne's fear upon beholding Theodora gavewa
y to her pride as she met the dark eyes of the Roman in which theremight have been a gleam of pity or a flash of scorn.

  But, ere Hellayne could speak, finding herself, caught like a poorhunted bird, in one net, ere she had well escaped the other, Theodoraturned to Tebaldo.

  "Tell the Lord Basil, the woman he craves is under Theodora's roof,and--if so he be inclined--he may claim her at my hands--"

  The gleaming white arm went out, and ere Hellayne knew what happened,she found herself raised into the second chariot, where sat a tall girlof great beauty, Persephone, the Circassian.

  A signal to the charioteer and the pageant moved with slightlyincreased speed towards the Aventine, while Tebaldo and Stefano,out-witted and non-plussed, stared after the vanishing procession as ifthey were encompassed by a nightmare. Then, simultaneously, they brokeout into such a chorus of vituperation that the by-standers shrank backfrom them in horror, and they soon found themselves, their chariotand its driver, almost the only human beings in the now desertedthoroughfare.

  Hellayne meanwhile sat, utterly dazed, next to Persephone. Terrified bythe danger she had escaped, and scarcely reassured by the manner of herrescue she seemed as one in a stupor, unable to think, unable to speak.

  Persephone regarded her with a strange fascination, not unmingled withcuriosity. Hellayne's fair and wonderful beauty appealed strangely tothe Circassian, while, with her native intuition, she wondered whetherTheodora's act was prompted by kindness or revenge.

  Hellayne seemed, for the first time, to note her companion. Lookinginto Persephone's eyes she shuddered.

  "Where are we going?" she whispered, gazing about in a state ofbewilderment, as the procession slowly wound up the slopes of the Mountof Cloisters, and the broad ribbon of the Tiber gleamed below in themoonlight.

  A strange smile curved Persephone's lips.

  "To the Groves of Enchantment," she replied. "You are the guest of theLady Theodora."

  Hellayne brushed back the silken hair from her brow as if she werewaking from a troubled dream.

  She gave a swift glance to her companion, another to the winding roadand, suddenly rising from her seat, started to leap from the chariot.

  Ere she could carry out her intent, she was caught in the Circassian'sarms.

  A silent, but terrible struggle ensued. Notwithstanding her harrowingexperiences of the past days, despair had given back to Hellayne thestrength of youth. But in the lithe Circassian she found her matchand, after a few moments, she sank back exhausted, Persephone's armsencircling her like coils of steel, while her smiling eyes sank intoher own.

  The palace of Theodora rose phantom-like from among its environinggroves in the moonlight, and the chariots dashed through the portals ofthe outer court, which closed upon the fantastic procession.