The Mother of St. Nicholas: A Story of Duty and Peril

by Grant Balfour

  The indignant Titanus was right--there was no cowardice. The multitudehad entirely misjudged the tactics of the brave Tharsos. The fallenman lay quietly upon his back, with his face slightly toward the lion,and with his dagger closely clinched in his strong right hand.

  Coryna's feelings were strung to the highest pitch. Her suspense wasagony, but she would not have her brave brother elsewhere.

  The ferocious beast, taken by surprise or freed from provocation,suddenly quieted down. It sat on its haunches for a moment, and lookedafter the fleeing man. Then it rose up, and preferring a fallen formto an erect, it followed him with light majestic tread. It came towithin twenty feet of where he lay, and halted, sitting on its haunchesagain. Rising up, it walked around him twice, looking at him curiouslyall the time. Satisfied at last that it had an easy prey, it wentforward softly, like a cat. Halting, it bent down to sniff the still,white, helpless-like figure, and to seize the flank.

  The time for action had come. Swiftly Tharsos drew his arm, and withterrific force thrust the dagger right into the would-be devourer'sheart!

  With a mighty yell the lion leaped into the air, and fell heavilyacross the body of its destroyer--a dangerous struggle or two, and itwas dead!

  Then was the stratagem understood, and when it was coupled with thename and rank of the self-sacrificing victor, a thundering shout ofapplause filled the amphitheatre.

  "Well done! brave Tharsos," said the Emperor proudly to thedistinguished noblemen around him, who were all delighted, Serviliusexcepted, who vainly strove to conceal his deep displeasure.

  Looking deliberately across the arena, the emperor caught Titanus' eyeand smiled. That valiant officer rose up and saluted his sovereignwith becoming dignity and grace.

  "Oh father, what a grand fight," exclaimed Carnion, "and the Christianlady is free!"

  "Yes, my son," replied the trustful soldier, resting back upon thechair for a moment with unutterable satisfaction, for the honor of hisfriend was upheld, and the virtuous maiden was saved.

  The vast multitude were greatly gratified in their feeling of thesensational. Yet a few were stirred to better thoughts and highresolves, who would never otherwise be influenced. Thus in theprovidence of God does the wrath of man work out His purpose and praise.

  The applause was at its height. But, strange to say, Tharsos movednot. The officials that had gone to his aid removed the huge dead lionfrom his body. Still Tharsos moved not. Something appeared to bewrong, and the great noise stopped. The spectators leaned forward andlooked anxious. Was the dauntless destroyer himself destroyed? Theattendants turned him tenderly over--when, alas! there was a frightfulgash in his naked side, from which the blood was flowing freely intothe sand. His face and lips were white, with an expression of peace,as if in death.

  Titanus, deeply anxious, arose and hastened away to get the bestphysician he could find. As he disappeared he glanced upward to thecolonnade, but Coryna, the sister, was gone.

  Carnion remained to see more of the stricken man, and of the pale womanin the centre, silent, unnoticed, and alone.

  Promptly but gently the attendants lifted up Tharsos and carried himfrom the arena. And as he passed from their sight the vast audiencewas hushed in regret.

  CHAPTER XII.

  DISCIPLINE.

  Pathema also watched their movements and departure, fearing that thewounded youth was dead. Her heart yearned anxiously after him. Whowas he that had so valiantly fought and bled for her? His name wasTharsos, and he was a brave, self-sacrificing nobleman--that was allshe could tell. It was enough. Self-sacrifice vividly recalledanother sacrifice, greater, perfect, and for all. The flood-gate offeeling could not be kept closed. She held the lilies in her droopinghand, she raised them, looked at them tenderly for a moment, thenburied her face in them, and wept.

  A herald now approached Pathema and formally announced that she wasfree, at the same time pointing to the open door through which they hadborne the bleeding hero. But to the sensual undiscerning multitude,Pathema was no heroine. She was only a woman; and in those days whenheathenism prevailed, women were not honoured as they are now.Besides, Pathema was to them a fanatic, a detested Christian, and atbest but a stubborn, unbending, young woman. They knew not her supremegentleness and modesty, which shrank from publicity like a sensitiveplant from touch. They did not know that it was intense love andloyalty to her Head which gave her strength to dare even cruel death.

  Pathema turned to leave the arena, but the tension and turmoil andreaction were now telling fast upon her fragile frame. As she walkedaway, her weakness was so great that she had the utmost difficulty tokeep from falling, and it was only too visible; but she struggled on.

  There was no sign of sympathy from the now talkative crowd, wailing foranother scene of blood. They treated her with indifference--she wasbut a very secondary actor in the tragedy. Yet, though they knew hernot, she was the greater victor, not that day alone, but in her pastdaily life of sacrifice. She was greater than he that slays a lion ortakes a city!

  Among the indifferent crowd there was one bright exception. Carnion,though not then a Christian, yet was fulfilling the beautifulwords--"Rejoice with them that do rejoice, and weep with them thatweep." As Pathema walked away with bowed head and faltering steps, thelad stepped to the edge of the balcony, and waiving his silkenhandkerchief, called out--"Thy God bless thee!" And the sufferer heardthe boy's sweet, strengthening voice, and struggled on.

  Misunderstood and unregarded by the heartless multitude, yet Pathema'sdiscipline and victory were the work of God, and they, even thegreatest of them, were but the willing, guilty instruments. She wasbeing fashioned through suffering in the truest beauty and for thehighest honour--the beauty of holiness, which endures for ever. Shewalked meekly and painfully on, she reached the little door, and thenshe passed from their guilty presence,--a queen, though uncrowned.

  CHAPTER XIII.

  NIGHT.

  The unconscious officer's wound was hastily but skilfully bound up andthe blood stanched, he was raised in a _lectica_ or litter, and carriedhome with great care to his mansion. In the quietest chamber of thehouse, he was laid upon a costly bed, one of rare wood with feet ofivory and with purple coverlets curiously broidered with gold.

  Titanus, having done his utmost, had gone away with Carnion, much castdown, the more so that he was under command by the emperor to leaveRome immediately on foreign service.

  Coryna was left beside her brother, with the physician and a faithfulintelligent slave. The depth of her feelings could not be sounded, yetthere was staying power of a kind. Grief, admiration and anxietysurged around a will of rock. Within, a whirling storm: without, apallid calm. She watched for the first signs of consciousness as theeagle watches for its prey.

  Tharsos lay as if in death, with the soft light of serenity still onhis manly face and classic brow. He moved at last and opened his eyes.

  "Where is the Christian maiden?" said he in dreamy feebleness, hisexpression changing into a look of anxiety.

  Much relieved in tension, Coryna answered softly--

  "Some kind one quickly conveyed her away, my brother, but I have sentseveral of our slaves over the city to find out her lodging-place andto enquire after her health."

  A radiant joy covered his face, and he remained silent for a little.Then he spoke with quiet earnestness:--

  "My sister, thou knowest her worth. Look after her, I pray thee, forher own sake, and for the sake of Him she serves so well. But"--andhere he halted, trying painfully to take a deep breath.

  "Speak not, my brother," said Coryna soothingly.

  Becoming calm, he resumed--"Hasten the search, Coryna; ask the maidento come and see me before I die. Tell her that I shall regard hervisit as a kindness and honour. I desire much to speak to her, mybeloved sister, to place thee in her care, and then I shall die inpeace." Tharsos spoke these last words very feebly, and then closinghis eyes he sank bask into unconsciousness.
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  Coryna's heart was torn, but she would not renounce hope.

  * * * * *

  It was difficult to trace where Pathema had gone, humble Christianfriends having taken her to a remote, obscure, but comfortable home.One messenger, however, got word of her whereabouts late the samenight, but too late to be prudent to call. When he knocked at the doornext day he did not know that the object of his search was wellinformed through her friends concerning Tharsos' critical state, andthat already there was a brief, beautiful, tablet-letter in her ownhandwriting, lying near his unconscious pillow.

  Weakened by her cruel experience, Pathema was resting quietly upon acouch beside a small open window, her heart full of gratitude to Godfor deliverance and of anxiety about her human deliverer.

  "Is there a maiden named Pathema lodging here?" Marcellus, themessenger, enquired.

  "There is, sir," said a little Roman maid, the daughter of the hostess,much excited as she looked out into the street and saw six slaves inred livery standing beside a grand palanquin.

  "My master, Tharsos, is at the point of death, but he would like to seethe Christian maiden ere he die."

  Pathema overheard these words, and rose up at once. Though weak inbody, she was resolute in mind, and she had enjoyed a providentialnight's rest. There was no delay in arranging matters, and she steppedinto the _lectica_ calmly but as one about to go through a painfulordeal.

  After elbowing their way through the streets, Marcellus leading, theslaves at length laid their burden down beside a statue of Caractacusin the vestibule before the door of the young nobleman's mansion.

  Like the usual Roman dwelling, the exterior was not prepossessing; butwhen Marcellus opened the door, the prospective view was peculiarlymagnificent. The doors and curtains of successive courts were drawnaside, revealing active fountains, marble pillars with splendidstatuary, and a lawn and shrubbery exposed above to the blue Italiansky.

  Pathema ascended the marble steps, and passing through the richlygilded door inlaid with tortoise-shell, she stood for a moment on themosaic floor of the _ostium_ or entrance hall. Overhead, a parrot ofbrilliant plumage greeted her with the salutation, "Joy be with thee."Going straight on for a few feet, she passed into the _atrium_, apillared court, where Coryna, the image of Tharsos in finer mould, mether and kissed her hand in touching silence.

  Leading the way, Coryna went on through the _cavaedium_, a largerCorinthian-columned court, in whose centre stood a splashing fountain,shooting its crystal stream towards the open sky. Passing the_tablinum_ or room of archives, they proceeded into the _peristylium_,a still larger transverse court or lawn with verdant shrubbery and achaste towering fountain.

  Here there was a Roman lady, elegantly dressed and richly jewelled.Her dark-complexioned face was strikingly beautiful, yet marred by alofty look of haughtiness. She walked around the lawn with the alertgraceful movements of a panther. Evidently she was laboring underconsiderable excitement, and when Coryna and Pathema entered, her blackeyes flashed out a deadly scorn.

  Inwardly disturbed, yet meeting the lady's look with a smile, Corynaturned aside between the marble columns into one of the _exedrae_ orrooms for conversation. Guiding Pathema to a comfortable seat, shespoke for the first time, saying,

  "Welcome to our home!"

  "I thank thee for the honour," answered Pathema, "and I am glad tocome, yet greatly pained."

  "My brother did right," was the quiet response.

  "Receive, I pray thee," said Pathema in tears, "my deepest gratitudefor thy brother's deed."

  "Tharsos will yet receive it personally," was the happy answer.

  "I rejoice to hear thy hope," replied Pathema with brightening eyes.

  "I have hope, but the physicians have little or none."

  After a little further conversation during which the visitor's wholeheart was drawn out to the noble character before her, Coryna cravedliberty for a moment to bid her friend in the _peristylium_ farewell.As she went out, a female slave entered to wait upon Pathema and showher every necessary attention. The slave was not long in her presencewhen she bewailed the calamity that had come upon her beloved master.Then she mentioned that the young lady in the _peristylium_ was muchdistressed.

  "Emerentia," she continued, "loves him exceedingly, and he liked her inreturn. Her father and mother leave to-day for a distant city of theempire, and she goes with them."

  Pathema was grieved, and she expressed the fervent hope that thenobleman would recover, for the distressed lady's sake, as well as hisown.

  "Emerentia," added the slave, "is generous and accomplished--that iswhy the master liked her--but her goodness is not so strong as herpride and jealousy. The lady is fierce in her feelings. She hates theChristians, and more so now than ever."

  After a few minutes Coryna returned, restrained and quiet, but with thetrace of a tear that had stolen down her fair face.

  "My brother," said she with hesitation, "earnestly desired that thoushouldst come and stay with me for a time. Is this possible? May Ihope it is."

  Pathema was taken by surprise. Her home and beloved parents and thepoor of Patara had been much in her heart. Her father had been morethan once in Rome, trying to obtain her liberty, and he had providedlong ago the temporary abode she had been carried to by Christianfriends. This now swept across her vision. But it was quicklyfollowed by another picture--the self-sacrificing act of the noblemanin whose mansion she was now a guest. And he was dying--so thephysicians feared. Duty--gratitude--consolation--everything demandedher presence. Her answer was unhesitating and prompt--

  "I will stay with thee."

  And Coryna bent down and kissed her, with a feeling that was warmlyreturned.

  Tharsos was beyond the stage of knowing anyone. In spite of the bestmedical skill, fever had quickly set in, and the battle began inearnest between life and death.

  Now was the opportunity for a woman's soldiership--soldiership of thehighest kind--where woman only can excel. The weapons are experience,presence of mind, patience, endurance and compassion. With all thesePathema was perfectly armed, her value was speedily recognised, and shebecame an unassuming soldier in the strife. There were days and nightsof anxious care and watching, the utmost was performed, and nothingleft undone. Yet Tharsos seemed to be marching straight withoutresource to the grim enemy's gloomy gate. The thought was painfulbeyond measure, but it seemed to Pathema that the noble-minded man mustdie!

  While the fever lay upon him he spoke in bits of sentences about theNazarene, mysterious, divine! and the devoted disciple Pathema. Hislanguage was now subdued and reverential, tender and touching, as if hestood in the presence of unearthly beings; then indignant, emphatic,even wild, as if he were again surrounded by the cruel and inquisitivemultitude--a wildness wholly unlike that of the quiet reserved man inhealth. Sitting up and pointing to the walls he would cry--

  "Great God! the fiends, mad, malignant, blood-thirsty, the fiends ofTartarus have entered thy fair world in the bodies of men."

  CHAPTER XIV.

  DAY.

  Tharsos did not die. Had the lion's claws twisted, or torn a littledeeper, or had there been incapable nursing, there would have been nohope. But the animal missed the vitals, and the faithful nurse madethe most of what remained--she would have readily yielded life at herloving though painful duty.

  When the consuming fever was completely turned and past, and a littlestrength gained through death-like sleep and judicious nourishment, itdawned upon the sick man's mind that someone strange but fascinatingwas constantly by his side. And when he learned that his attendant wasPathema, there came a peace over his soul that could not be expressed.

  After a long time Tharsos recovered strength, but he was never againthe same. He was subject to spells of weakness that kept him to hiscouch for days, and he had to resign his position in the army. Yet helived for many years afterwards, and did a noble work, impossible to bedone in the service of the emperor, a work
that could not be hid, as agood soldier of Jesus Christ.

  Pathema, relieved in due time, went back to her home in Asia Minor.She carried many costly gifts, showered upon her and refused in vain.But, better still, she carried away the undying devotion of Tharsos,the close sisterly affection of Coryna, and the goodwill of all thatreally knew her worth.

  Her parents in Patara were overjoyed at her return, and so were manyothers in the city and wide surroundings--many, who waited for tenderattention and waited not in vain.

  Tharsos sold his mansion in Rome, and followed Pathema to Patara. Hebought a beautiful residence in that city, and built another farther upthe river Xanthus among the hills. And Pathema became his wife.Staying in these two houses alternately, at different seasons of theyear, they passed the rest of their lives. No two beings loved ouchother better, or did a more useful and beneficent work. Their cityhome was a centre of Christian light and hospitality, while their ruralretreat was the scene of many joyous and instructive gatherings of thecountry people. In these abodes the friendless wanderer, of whateverrace or tribe, could lay down his weary head and there find solace andrest.

  CHAPTER XV.

  SAINT NICHOLAS.

  "The house among the olive trees at the base of yonder hill--whose isit, friend?" enquired a traveller of a pagan whom he met.

  "The hospitable home of Tharsos and Pathema," was the reply.

  "Thanks be to God!" said the traveller, passing on.

  "Who are these two men that sit together in the portico?" asked he of aChristian as he came up in front of the house.