AVE POST SECULA
It comes back to me that on the following day my successor in the
governorship of the jail, who he was I know not now, arrived, and that
to him in due form I handed over my offices and duties. Before I did so,
however, I made it my care to release Barnabas, I think on the previous
evening. In his cell I read the Augusta’s warrant to the old bishop.
“How was it obtained, son,” he asked, “for, know, that having so many
enemies on this small matter of image worship, I expected to die in this
place? Now it seems that I am free, and may even return to my charge in
Egypt.”
“The Empress granted it to me as a favour, Father,” I answered. “I told
her that you were from the North, like myself.”
He studied me with his shrewd blue eyes, and said:
“It seems strange to me that so great and unusual a boon should be
granted for such a reason, seeing that better men than I am have
suffered banishment and worse woes for less cause than I have given.
What did you pay the Empress for this favour, son Olaf?”
“Nothing, Father.”
“Is it so? Olaf, a dream has come to me about you, and in that dream
I saw you walk through a great fire and emerge unscathed, save for the
singeing of your lips and hair.”
“Perhaps they were singed, Father. Otherwise, I am unburned, though
what will happen to me in the future I do not know, for my dangers seem
great.”
“In my dream you triumphed over all of them, Olaf, and also met with
some reward even in this life, though now I know not what it was. Yes,
and triumph you shall, my son in Christ. Fear nothing, even when the
storm-clouds sweep about your head and the lightnings blind your eyes.
I say, fear nothing, for you have friends whom you cannot see. I ask no
more even under the seal of confession, since there are secrets which it
is not well to learn. Who knows, I might go mad, or torture might draw
from me words I would not speak. Therefore, keep your own counsel, son,
and confess to God alone.”
“What will you do now, Father?” I asked. “Return to Egypt?”
“Nay, not yet awhile. It comes to me that I must bide here for a space,
which under this pardon I have liberty to do, but to what end I cannot
say. Later on I shall return, if God so wills. I go to dwell with good
folk who are known to me, and from time to time will let you hear where
I may be found, if you should need my help or counsel.”
Then I led him to the gates, and, having given him a witnessed copy of
his warrant of release, bade him farewell for that time, making it
known to the guards and certain priests who lingered there that any who
molested him must answer for it to the Augusta.
Thus we parted.
Having handed over the keys of the prison, I walked to the palace
unattended, being minded to take up my duties there unnoticed. But
this was not to be. As I entered the palace gate a sentry called out
something, and a messenger, who seemed to be in waiting, departed at
full speed. Then the sentry, saluting, told me that his orders were that
I must stand awhile, he knew not why. Presently I discovered, for across
the square within the gates marched a full general’s guard, whereof the
officer also saluted, and prayed me to come with him. I went, wondering
if I was to be given in charge, and by him, surrounded with this pompous
guard, was led to my new quarters, which were more splendid than I
could have dreamed. Here the guard left me, and presently other officers
appeared, some of them old comrades of my own, asking for orders,
of which, of course, I had none to give. Also, within an hour, I was
summoned to a council of generals to discuss some matter of a war in
which the Empire was engaged. By such means as these it was conveyed
to me that I had become a great man, or, at any rate, one in the way of
growing great.
That afternoon, when, according to my old custom, I was making my round
of the guards, I met the Augusta upon the main terrace, surrounded by a
number of ministers and courtiers. I saluted and would have passed on,
but she bade one of her eunuchs call me to her. So I came and stood
before her.
“We greet you, General Olaf,” she said. “Where have you been all this
long while? Oh! I remember. At the State prison, as its governor, of
which office you are now relieved at your own request. Well, the palace
welcomes you again, for when you are here all within know themselves
safe.”
Thus she spoke, her great eyes searching my face the while, then bowed
her head in token of dismissal. I saluted again, and began to step
backwards, according to the rule, whereon she motioned to me to stand.
Then she began to make a laugh of me to the painted throng about her.
“Say, nobles and ladies,” she said, “did any of you ever see such a man?
We address him as best we may--and we have reason to believe that he
understands our language--yet not one word does he vouchsafe to us
in answer. There he stands, like a soldier cut in iron who moves by
springs, with never an ‘I thank you’ or a ‘Good day’ on his lips.
Doubtless he would reprove us all, who, he holds, talk too much, being,
as we all have heard, a man of stern morality, who has no tenderness for
human foibles. By the way, General Olaf, a rumour has reached us that
you have forsaken doubt, and become a Christian. Is this true?”
“It is true, Augusta.”
“Then if as a Pagan you were a man of iron, what will you be as a
Christian, we wonder? One hard as diamond, no less. Yet we are glad
of this tidings, as all good servants of the Church must be, since
henceforth our friendship will be closer and we value you. General, you
must be received publicly into the bosom of the Faith; it will be an
encouragement to others to follow your example. Perhaps, as you have
served us so well in many wars and as an officer of our guard, we
ourselves will be your god-mother. The matter shall be considered by us.
What have you to answer to it?”
“Nothing,” I replied, “save that when the Augusta has considered of the
matter, I will consider of my answer.”
At this the courtiers tittered, and, instead of growing angry, as I
thought she might, Irene burst out laughing.
“Truly we were wrong,” she said, “to provoke you to open your mouth,
General, for when you do so, like that red sword you wear, your tongue
is sharp, if somewhat heavy. Tell us, General, are your new quarters to
your taste, and before you reply know that we inspected them ourselves,
and, having a liking for such tasks, attended to their furnishment. ’Tis
done, you will see, in the Northern style, which we think somewhat cold
and heavy--like your sword and tongue.”
“If the Augusta asks me,” I said, “the quarters are too fine for a
single soldier. The two rooms where I dwelt before were sufficient.”
“A single soldier! Well, that is a fault which can be remedied. You
should marry, General Olaf.”
“When I find any woman who wishes to marry me and whom I wish to marry,
I will obey the Augusta’s commands.”
“So be it, General, only remember that first we must approve the lady.
Venture not, General, to share those new quarters of yours with any lady
whom we do not approve.”
Then, followed by the Court, she turned and walked away, and I went
about my business, wondering what was the meaning of all this guarded
and half-bitter talk.
The next event that returns to me clearly is that of my public
acceptance as a Christian in the great Cathedral of St. Sophia, which
must have taken place not very long after this meeting upon the terrace.
I know that by every means in my power I had striven, though without
avail, to escape this ceremony, pointing out that I could be publicly
received into the body of the Church at any chapel where there was a
priest and a congregation of a dozen humble folk. But this the Empress
would not allow. The reason she gave was her desire that my conversion
should be proclaimed throughout the city, that other Pagans, of whom
there were thousands, might follow my example. Yet I think she had
another which she did not avow. It was that I might be made known in
public as a man of importance whom it pleased her to honour.
On the morning of this rite, Martina came to acquaint me with its
details, and told me that the Empress would be present at the cathedral
in state, making her progress thither in her golden chariot, drawn by
the famed milk-white steeds. I, it seemed, was to ride after the chariot
in my general’s uniform, which was splendid enough, followed by a
company of guards, and surrounded by chanting priests. The Patriarch
himself, no less a person, was to receive me and some other converts,
and the cathedral would be filled with all the great ones of
Constantinople.
I asked whether Irene intended to be my god-mother, as she had
threatened.
“Not so,” replied Martina. “On that point she has changed her mind.”
“So much the better,” I said. “But why?”
“There is a canon of the Church, Olaf, which forbids intermarriage
between a god-parent and his or her god-child,” she replied dryly.
“Whether this canon has come to the Augusta’s memory or not, I cannot
say. It may be so.”
“Who, then, is to be my god-mother?” I asked hurriedly, leaving the
problem of Irene’s motives undiscussed.
“I am, by the written Imperial decree delivered to me not an hour ago.”
“You, Martina, you who are younger than myself by many years?”
“Yes, I. The Augusta has just explained to me that as we seem to be such
very good friends, and to talk together so much alone, doubtless,
she supposed, upon matters of religion, there could be no person more
suitable than such a good Christian as myself to fill that holy office.”
“What do you mean, Martina?” I asked bluntly.
“I mean, Olaf,” she replied, turning away her head, and speaking in a
strained voice, “that, where you are concerned, the Augusta of late has
done me the honour to be somewhat jealous of me. Well, of a god-mother
no one need be jealous. The Augusta is a clever woman, Olaf.”
“I do not quite understand,” I said. “Why should the Augusta be jealous
of you?”
“There is no reason at all, Olaf, except that, as it happens, she is
jealous of every woman who comes near to you, and she knows that we are
intimate and that you trust me--well, more, perhaps, than you trust her.
Oh! I assure you that of late you have not spoken to any woman under
fifty unnoted and unreported. Many eyes watch you, Olaf.”
“Then they might find better employment. But tell me outright, Martina,
what is the meaning of all this?”
“Surely even a wooden-headed Northman can guess, Olaf?”
She glanced round her to make sure that we were alone in the great
apartment of my quarters and that the doors were shut, then went on,
almost in a whisper, “My mistress is wondering whether or no she will
marry again, and, if so, whether she will choose a certain somewhat
over-virtuous Christian soldier as a second husband. As yet she has not
made up her mind. Moreover, even if she had, nothing could be done at
present or until the question of the struggle between her and her son
for power is settled in this way or in that. Therefore, at worst, or
at best, that soldier has yet a while of single life left to him, say a
month or two.”
“Then during that month or two perhaps he would be wise to travel,” I
suggested.
“Perhaps, if he were a fool who would run away from fortune, and if he
could get leave of absence, which in his case is impossible; to attempt
such a journey without it would mean his death. No, if he is wise, that
soldier will bide where he is and await events, possessing his soul in
patience, as a good Christian should do. Now, as your god-mother, I must
instruct you in this service. Look not so troubled; it is really most
simple. You know Stauracius, the eunuch, is to be your god-father, which
is very fortunate for you, since, although he looks on you with doubt
and jealousy, to blind or murder his own god-son would cause too much
scandal even in Constantinople. As a special mark of grace, also, the
Bishop Barnabas, of Egypt, will be allowed to assist in the ceremony,
because it was he who snatched your soul from the burning. Moreover,
since the Sacrament is to be administered afterwards, he has been
commanded to attend here to receive your confession in the chapel of the
palace, and within an hour. You know that this day being the Feast of
St. Michael and All Angels, you will be received in the name of Michael,
a high one well fitted to a warlike saint, though I think that I shall
still call you Olaf. So farewell, my god-son to be, until we meet at
the cathedral, where I shall shine in the reflected light of all your
virtues.”
Then she sighed, laughed a little, and glided away.
In due course a priest of the chapel came to summon me there, saying
that the Bishop Barnabas awaited me. I went and made my confession,
though in truth I had little to tell him that he did not already know.
Afterwards the good old man, who by now was quite recovered from his
hurts and imprisonment, accompanied me to my quarters, where we ate
together. He told me that before he attended in the chapel he had been
received by the Empress, who had spoken to him very kindly, making
light of their difference of opinion as to images and with her own mouth
confirmed him in his bishopric, even hinting at his possible promotion.
“This, my son,” he added, “I am well aware I owe to your good offices.”
I asked him if he would return at once to Upper Egypt, where he had his
bishopric.
“No, my son,” he answered, “not yet awhile. The truth is that there
have arrived here the chief man in my diocese, and his daughter. He is
a descendant of the old Pharaohs of the Egyptians who lives near the
second cataract of the Nile, almost on the borders of Ethiopia, whither
the accursed children of Mahomet have not yet forced their way. He is
still a great man among the Egyptians, who look upon him as their lawful
prince. His mission here is to try to plan a new war upon the followers
of the Prophet, who, he holds, might be assailed by the Empire at the
mouths of the Nile, while he attacked them with his Egyptians from the
south.”
Now I grew interested, who had always grieved over the loss of Egypt to
the Empire, and asked what was this prince’s name.
“Magas, my son, and his daughter is named Heliodore. Ah! she is such a
woman as I would see you wed, beautiful indeed, and good and true as she
is beautiful, with a high spirit also, such as befits her ancient blood.
Mayhap you will note her in the cathedral. Nay, I forgot, not there, but
afterwards in this palace, since it is the command of the Empress, to
whom I have been speaking of their matters, that these two should come
to dwell here for a while. After that I hope we shall all return to
Egypt together, though Magas, being on a secret mission, does not travel
under his own name, but as a merchant.”
Suddenly he paused, and began to stare at my throat.
“Is aught wrong with my armour, Father?” I asked.
“No, son. I was looking at that trinket which you wear. Of course I have
noted it before, but never closely. It is strange, very strange!”
“What is strange, Father?”
“Only that I have seen another like it.”
“I dare say you have,” I answered, laughing, “for when I would not give
this to the Augusta, it pleased her to have it copied.”
“No, no; I mean in Egypt, and, what is more, a story hung to the jewel.”
“On whom? Where? What story?” I asked eagerly.
“Oh! I cannot stay to tell you now. Moreover, your mind should be fixed
upon immortal crowns, and not on earthly necklaces. I must be gone; nay,
stay me not, I am already late. Do you get you to your knees and pray
till your god-parents come to fetch you.”
Then, in spite of all I could do to keep him, he went, muttering:
“Strange! Exceeding strange!” and leaving me quite unfit for prayer.
An hour later I was riding through the streets of the mighty city, clad
in shining armour. As the season was that of October, in which the Feast
of St. Michael falls, we wore cloaks, although, the day being warm, they
were little needed. Mine was of some fine white stuff, with a red
cross broidered on the right shoulder. Stauracius, the eunuch and great
minister, who had been ordered to act as my god-father, rode alongside
of me on a mule, because he dared not mount a horse, sweating beneath
his thick robe of office, and, as I heard from time to time, cursing me,
his god-son, and all this ceremony beneath his breath. On my other hand
was my god-mother, Martina, riding an Arab mare, which she did well
enough, having been brought up to horsemanship on the plains of Greece.
Her mood was varied, for now she laughed at the humour of the scene, and
now she was sad almost to tears.
The streets were lined with thousands of the pleasure-loving people of
the city, who had come out to see the show of the Empress going in state
to the cathedral. They were gathered even on the flat house-tops and in
the entrances to the public buildings and open places. But the glory
of the sight was centred, not about me, with my escort of guards
and chanting priests, but in Irene’s self. Preceded and followed
by glittering regiments of soldiers, she drove in her famous golden
chariot, drawn by eight milk-white steeds, each of which was led by
a bejewelled noble. Her dress was splendid and covered with sparkling
gems, and on her yellow hair she wore a crown. As she went the
multitudes shouted their welcome, and she bowed to right and left in
answer to the shouts. Now and again, however, bands of armed men, clad
in a dress of a peculiar colour, emerged from side streets and hooted,
crying:
“Where is the Augustus? Give us the Augustus. We will not be ruled by a
woman and her eunuchs!”
These men were of the party of Constantine, and set on by him. Once,
indeed, there was a tumult, for some of them tried to bar the road, till
they were driven away, leaving a few dead or wounded behind them. But
still the crowds shouted and the Empress bowed as though nothing had
happened, and thus by a somewhat winding route, we came to St. Sophia.
The Augusta entered, and presently I and those with me followed her
into the wonderful cathedral. I see it now, not in particular, but as
a whole, with its endless columns, its aisles and apses, and its
glittering mosaics shining through the holy gloom, across which shot
bars of light from the high window-places. All the great place was full
of the noblest in the city, rank upon rank of them, come thither to see
the Empress in her glory at the great Feast of St. Michael, which year
by year she attended thus.
At the altar waited the Patriarch in his splendid robes, attended by
many bishops and priests, among them Barnabas of Egypt. The service
began, I and some other converts standing together near to the altar
rail. The details of it do not return to me. Sweet voices sang, censers
gave forth their incense, banners waved, and images of the saints,
standing everywhere, smiled upon us fixedly. Some of us were baptised,
and some who had already been baptised were received publicly into the
fellowship of the Church, I among them. My god-father, Stauracius, a
deacon prompting him, and my god-mother, Martina, spoke certain words on
my behalf, and I also spoke certain words which I had learned.
The splendid Patriarch, a sour-faced man with a slight squint, gave me
his especial blessing. The Bishop Barnabas, upon whom, as I noted, the
Patriarch was always careful to turn his back, offered up a prayer. My
god-father and god-mother embraced me, Stauracius smacking the air at a
distance, for which I was grateful, and Martina touching me gently with
her lips upon the brow. The Empress smiled upon me and, as I passed her,
patted me on the shoulder. Then the Sacrament was celebrated, whereof
the Empress partook first; next we converts, with our god-parents, and
afterwards a number of the congregation.
It was over at last. The Augusta and her attendants marched down the
cathedral towards the great western doors, priests followed, and, among
them, we converts, whom the people applauded openly.
Looking to right and left of me, for I was weary of keeping my gaze
fixed upon the floor, presently I caught sight of a face whilst as yet
it was far away. It seemed to draw me, I knew not why. The face was that
of a woman. She stood by an old and stately-looking man with a white
beard, the last of a line of worshippers next to the aisle along which
the procession passed, and I saw that she was young and fair.
Down the long, resounding aisle the procession marched slowly. Now I was
nearer to the face, and perceived that it was lovely as some rich-hued
flower. The large eyes were dark and soft as a deer’s. The complexion,
too, was somewhat dark, as though the sun had kissed it. The lips were
red and curving, and about them played a little smile that was full of
mystery as the eyes were full of thought and tenderness. The figure was
delicate and rounded, but not so very tall. All these things and others
I noted, yet it was not by them that I was drawn and held, but rather
because I _knew this lady_.
She was the woman of whom, years ago, I had dreamed on the night on
which I broke into the Wanderer’s tomb at Aar!
Never for one moment did I doubt me of this truth. I was sure. I was
sure. It did not even need, while she turned to whisper something to her
companion, that the cloak she wore should open a little, revealing on
her breast a necklace of emerald beetles separated by inlaid shells of
pale and ancient gold.
She was watching the procession with interest, yet somewhat idly, when
she caught sight of me, whom, from where she stood, she could scarcely
have seen before. Of a sudden her face grew doubtful and troubled, like
to that of one who has just received some hurt. She saw the ornament
about my neck. She turned pale and had she not gripped the arm of the
man beside her, would, I think, have fallen. Then her eyes caught mine,
and Fate had us in its net.
She leaned forward, gazing, gazing, all her soul in those dark eyes,
and I, too, gazed and gazed. The great cathedral vanished with its
glittering crowds, the sound of chanting and of feet that marched died
from my ears. In place of these I saw a mighty columned temple and two
stone figures, taller than pines, seated on a plain, and through the
moonlit silence heard a sweet voice murmuring:
“Farewell. For this life, farewell!”
Now we were near to each other, now I was passing her, I who might not
stay. My hand brushed hers, and oh! it was as though I had drunk a cup
of wine. A spirit entered into me and, bending, I whispered in her ear,
speaking in the Latin tongue, since Greek, which all knew, I did not
dare to use, “_Ave post secula!_” Greeting after the ages!
I saw her bosom heave; yes, and heard her whisper back:
“_Ave!_”
So she knew me also.