CHAPTER V
BITTER WATERS
The dawn was creeping over the Sabine mountains when Tristan, afterhaving made good his escape from the dungeons of Castel San Angelo,reached the hermitage of Odo of Cluny on distant Aventine.
Fatigued almost to the point of death, bleeding and bruised, only hisunconquerable will had urged him on towards safety.
His first impulse, after crossing the bridge of San Angelo, was to goto the Convent of Santa Maria in Trastevere. He abandoned this planupon saner reflection. Doubtlessly all Rome was instructed regardingthe crime of which he stood accused. Recognition meant arrest and afate he dared not think of. Tears forced themselves into Tristan'seyes, tears of sheer despair and hopelessness. Now, that he was free,he dared not follow the all-compelling impulse of his heart, assuagethe craving of his soul, to learn if Hellayne was safe.
After a few moments rest in the shadow of a doorway he set out to seekthe one man in all Rome to whom he dared reveal himself.
Not a soul seemed astir. Dim dusk hovered above the high houses beyondthe Tiber, between whose silent chasms Tristan, dreading the echo ofhis own footsteps, made his way towards the Church of the Trespontine.Thus, after a circuitous route through waste and desert spaces, hereached the Benedictine's hermitage.
Odo stared at the early visitor as if a ghost had arisen from the floorbefore him. He had just concluded his devotions and Tristan, fearinglest the Monk of Cluny might believe in his guilt, lost no time instating his case, pouring forth a tale so fantastic and wild that hishost could not but listen in mingled horror and amaze.
Beginning with the moment when he had been informed of Hellayne'ssudden death, he omitted not a detail up to the time of his escapefrom the dungeon, which to him meant nothing less than the antechamberof death. Minutely he dwelt upon his watch in the Lateran, layingparticular stress upon the deadly drowsiness, which had graduallyovertaken him, binding his limbs as with cords of steel. Graphically hedepicted his awakening, when he found himself surrounded by the highprelates of the Church who faced him with the supposed evidence of acrime of which he knew nothing. And lastly he repeated almost word forword the strange discourse he had overheard in his dungeon betweenBasil and the Oriental.
A ghastly pallor flitted over the features of Odo of Cluny at thelatter intelligence.
"If this be true indeed--if Alberic is dead--woe be to Rome! It is toomonstrous for belief, and yet--I have suspected it long."
For a time Odo relapsed into silence, brooding over the tidings ofdoom, and Tristan, though many questions struggled for utterance,waited in anxious suspense.
At last the monk resumed.
"I see in this the hand of one who never strikes but to destroy. Theblow falls unseen, yet the aim is sure. I have not been idle, yet do Inot hold in my hand all the threads of the dark web that encompassesus. Of the crime of which you stand accused I know you to be innocent.Nevertheless--you dare not show yourself in Rome. Your escape fromyour dungeon once discovered, not a nook or corner of Rome will remainunsearched. They dare not let you live, for your existence spells theirdoom. They will not look for you in this hermitage. It has many secretwinding passages, and it will be easy for you to elude them. Therefore,my son, school your soul to patience, for here you must remain tillwe have assembled around the banner of the Cross the forces of Lightagainst the legions of Hell."
"What of the woman, Father, who is awaiting my return at the Convent ofSanta Maria in Trastevere?" Tristan turned to the monk in a pleading,stifled voice. "Doubtless the terrible rumor has reached her ear."
He covered his face with his hands, while convulsive sobs shook hiswhole frame.
Odo tried to soothe him.
"This is hardly the spirit I expected of one who has hitherto shownso brave a front, and whose aim it is not to anticipate the blows ofchance."
"Nevertheless, Father, it is more than I can bear. I have no lust forlife, and care not what fate has in store for me, for my heart is heavywithin me, and all the fountains of my hopes are dried up, until I knowthe fate of the Lady Hellayne--and know from her own lips that she doesnot believe this devilish calumny."
A troubled look passed into Odo's face.
"If she still is at the convent of the Blessed Sisters of Trastevereshe is undoubtedly safe," he said, but there was something in his tonewhich struck Tristan's ear with dismay.
"You are keeping something from me, Father," he said falteringly. "Tellme the worst! For this anxiety is worse than death. Where is the LadyHellayne? Is she--dead?"
"Would she were," replied the monk gloomily. "I wished to spare you thetidings! She was taken from the convent on some pretext--the nature ofwhich I know not. At present she is at the palace of Theodora on MountAventine."
Tristan sat up as if electrified.
"At the palace of Theodora?" he cried. "How is this known to you?"
"Little transpires in Rome which I do not know," Odo replied darkly."It seems that those whom the Lord Basil entrusted with the task ofabducting the woman were in turn outwitted by Theodora who, in rescuingher from a fate worse than death at the hands of the Grand Chamberlain,has perchance consigned her to one equally, if not more, cruel."
A moan broke from Tristan's lips. Then he was seized with a terriblefit of rage.
"Then it is Theodora's hand that has sundered us in the flesh as herwitches' beauty had estranged our hearts. More merciless than a beastof prey she did not strike Hellayne with death, so that I might havesentinelled her hallowed tomb, and with her sweet memory for companymight have watched for the coming of my own hour to join her again! Ihave lost my love--my honor--my manhood--at the hands of a wanton."
Odo tried for a time, though in vain, to calm him by reminding him thatHellayne would rather suffer death than dishonor. As regarded himself,he was convinced that Theodora would have moved heaven and earth tohave set him free, had not his supposed crime concerned the Church andthe Cardinal-Archbishop was adamant.
"Oft, in my visions," he concluded, speaking lower, as if his mindstrove with some vague elusive memory, "have I heard the voice ofTheodora's doom cried aloud. A cruel fate is yours indeed--and we canbut pray to the saints that the worst may be averted from the woman whohas suffered so much."
"Something must be done," Tristan interposed, his fierce mood gainingthe mastery over every other feeling. "I care not if the minions ofthe devil take me back to the prison that leads to death, so I snatchher prey from this arch-courtesan of the Aventine."
Odo laid a detaining hand upon his arm.
"Madman! You are but planning your own destruction. And, if you die,wherein will it benefit the woman who is left to her fate? You are weakfrom the night's work and your nerves are overwrought. Follow me intothe adjoining room even though the repast be meagre. We will devisesome means to rescue the Lady Hellayne from the powers of darkness and,trusting in Him who died that we may live, we shall succeed."
Pointing to the drooping form of the crucified Christ on the oppositewall of his improvised oratory, Odo beckoned to Tristan to follow him,and the latter accompanied the Benedictine into the adjoining rockchamber, where he did ample justice to the frugal repast which Odoplaced before him, and of which the monk himself partook but sparingly.
Under the Witches' Moon: A Romantic Tale of Mediaeval Rome Page 43
