till I saw a flat stone which I knew again. It was called the Table of
Offerings. I was sure that the hole by which we had entered the tomb
was quite near to this stone and a little above it, in the face of the
cliff. I climbed; I found what seemed to be the hole, though of this I
could not be certain. I crept down it till it came to an end, and
then, in my terror, hung by my hands and dropped into the darkness,
not knowing whither I fell, or caring over much if I were killed. As it
chanced it was but a little way, and, finding myself unhurt, I crawled
along the cavern till I reached this place where there is light, for
here the roof of the cave has fallen in. While I crouched amid the rocks
I heard the voices of the soldiers above me, heard their officer also
bidding them bring ropes and torches. To the left of where you stand
there is a sloping passage that runs down to the great central chamber
where sleeps some mighty king, and out of this passage open other
chambers. Into the first of these the light of the morning sun struggles
feebly. I entered it, seeking somewhere to hide myself, and saw a
painted coffin lying on the floor near to the marble sarcophagus from
which it had been dragged. It was that in which we had found the body
of my ancestress; but since then thieves had been in this place. We
had left the coffin in the sarcophagus and the mummy in the coffin, and
replaced their lids. Now the mummy lay on the floor, half unwrapped and
broken in two beneath the breast. Moreover, the face, which I remembered
as being so like my own, was gone to dust, so that there remained of
it nothing but a skull, to which hung tresses of long black hair, as,
indeed, you may see for yourself.
“By the side of the body was the gilded mask, with black and staring
eyes, and the painted breast-piece of stiff linen, neither of which the
thieves had found worth stealing.
“I looked and a thought came to me. Lifting the mummy, I thrust it
into the sarcophagus, all of it save the gilded mask and the painted
breast-piece of stiff linen. Then I laid myself down in the coffin, of
which the lid, still lying crosswise, hid me to the waist, and drew the
gilded mask and painted breast-piece over my head and bosom. Scarcely
was it done when the soldiers entered. By now the reflected sunlight
had faded from the place, leaving it in deep shadow; but some of the men
held burning torches made from splinters of old coffins, that were full
of pitch.
“‘Feet have passed here; I saw the marks of them in the dust,’ said the
officer. ‘She may have hidden in this place. Search! Search! It will go
hard with us if we return to Musa to tell him that he has lost his toy.’
“They looked into the sarcophagus and saw the broken mummy. Indeed, one
of them lifted it, unwillingly enough, and let it fall again, saying
grimly,
“‘Musa would scarce care for this companion, though in her day she may
have been fair enough.’
“Then they came to the coffin.
“‘Here’s another,’ exclaimed the soldier, ‘and one with a gold face.
Allah! how its eyes stare.’
“‘Pull it out,’ said the officer.
“‘Let that be your task,’ answered the man. ‘I’ll defile myself with no
more corpses.’
“The officer came and looked. ‘What a haunted hole is this, full of the
ghosts of idol worshippers, or so I think,’ he said. ‘Those eyes stare
curses at us. Well, the Christian maid is not here. On, before the
torches fail.’
“Then they went, leaving me; the painted linen creaked upon my breast as
I breathed again.
“‘Till nightfall I lay in that coffin, fearing lest they should return;
and I tell you, Olaf, that strange dreams came to me there, for I think
I swooned or slept in that narrow bed. Yes, dreams of the past, which
you shall hear one day, if we live, for they seem to have to do with you
and me. Aye, I thought that the dead woman in the sarcophagus at my side
awoke and told them to me. At length I rose and crept back to this
place where we stand, for here I could see the friendly light, and being
outworn, laid me down and slept.
“At the first break of day I crawled from the tomb, followed that same
road by which I had entered, though I found it hard to climb up through
the entrance hole.
“No living thing was to be seen in the valley, except a great night bird
flitting to its haunt. I was parched with thirst, and knowing that in
this dry place I soon must perish, I glided from rock to rock towards
the mouth of the valley, thinking to find some other grave or cranny
where I might lie hid till night came again and I could descend to the
plain and drink. But, Olaf, before I had gone many steps I discovered
fresh food, milk and water laid upon a rock, and though I feared lest
they might be poisoned, ate and drank of them. When I knew that they
were wholesome I thought that some friend must have set them there to
satisfy my wants, though I knew not who the friend could be. Afterwards
I learned that this food was an offering to the ghosts of the dead.
Among our forefathers in forgotten generations it was, I know, the
custom to make such offerings, since in their blindness they believed
that the spirts of their beloved needed sustenance as their bodies once
had done. Doubtless the memory of the rite still survives; at least,
to this day the offerings are made. Indeed, when it was found that they
were not made in vain, more and more of them were brought, so that I
have lacked nothing.
“Here then I have dwelt for many moons among the dust of men departed,
only now and again wandering out at night. Once or twice folk have seen
me when I ventured to the plains, and I have been tempted to speak to
them and ask their help. But always they fled away, believing me to
be the ghost of some bygone queen. Indeed, to speak truth, Olaf, this
companionship with spirits, for spirits do dwell in these tombs--I have
seen them, I tell you I have seen them--has so worked upon my soul that
at times I feel as though I were already of their company. Moreover, I
knew that I could not live long. The loneliness was sucking up my life
as the dry sand sucks water. Had you not come, Olaf, within some few
days or weeks I should have died.”
Now I spoke for the first time, saying,
“And did you wish to die, Heliodore?”
“No. Before the war between Musa and my father, Magas, news came to us
from Byzantium that Irene had killed you. All believed it save I, who
did not believe.”
“Why not, Heliodore?”
“Because I could not feel that you were dead. Therefore I fought for my
life, who otherwise, after we were conquered and ruined and my father
was slain fighting nobly, should have stabbed, not that eunuch, but
myself. Then later, in this tomb, I came to know that you were not dead.
The other lost ones I could feel about me from time to time, but you
never, you who would have been the first to seek me when my soul was
open to such whisperings. So I lived on when all else would have died,
because hope burned in me like a lamp unquenchable. And at last you
came! Oh! at last you came!”
CHAPTER IV
THE CALIPH HARUN
Here there is an absolute blank in my story. One of those walls of
oblivion of which I have spoken seems to be built across its path. It is
as though a stream had plunged suddenly from some bright valley into the
bosom of a mountain side and there vanished from the ken of man. What
happened in the tomb after Heliodore had ended her tale; whether we
departed thence together or left her there a while; how we escaped
from Kurna, and by what good fortune or artifice we came safely to
Alexandria, I know not. As to all these matters my vision fails me
utterly. So far as I am concerned, they are buried beneath the dust
of time. I know as little of them as I know of where and how I slept
between my life as Olaf and this present life of mine; that is, nothing
at all. Yet in this way or in that the stream did win through the
mountain, since beyond all grows clear again.
Once more I stood upon the deck of the _Diana_ in the harbour of
Alexandria. With me were Martina and Heliodore. Heliodore’s face was
stained and she was dressed as a boy, such a harlequin lad as singers
and mountebanks often take in their company. The ship was ready to start
and the wind served. Yet we could not sail because of the lack of some
permission. A Moslem galley patrolled the harbour and threatened to sink
us if we dared to weigh without this paper. The mate had gone ashore
with a bribe. We waited and waited. At length the captain, Menas, who
stood by me, whispered into my ear,
“Be calm; he comes; all is well.”
Then I heard the mate shout: “I have the writing under seal,” and Menas
gave the order to cast off the ropes that held the ship to the quay.
One of the sailors came up and reported to Menas that their companion,
Cosmas, was missing. It seemed that he had slipped ashore without leave
and had not returned.
“There let him bide,” said Menas, with an oath. “Doubtless the hog lies
drunk in some den. When he awakes he may tell what tale he pleases and
find his own way back to Lesbos. Cast off, cast off! I say.”
At this moment that same Cosmas appeared. I could not see him, but I
could hear him plainly enough. Evidently he had become involved in some
brawl, for an angry woman and others were demanding money of him and he
was shouting back drunken threats. A man struck him and the woman got
him by the beard. Then his reason left him altogether.
“Am I, a Christian, to be treated thus by you heathen dogs?” he
screamed. “Oh, you think I am dirt beneath your feet. I have friends,
I tell you I have friends. You know not whom I serve. I say that I am
a soldier of Olaf the Northman, Olaf the Blind, Olaf Red-Sword, he who
made you prophet-worshippers sing so small at Mitylene, as he will do
again ere long.”
“Indeed, friend,” said a quiet voice. It was that of the Moslem captain,
Yusuf, he who befriended us when we arrived at Alexandria, who had been
watching all this scene. “Then you serve a great general, as some of
us have cause to know. Tell me, where is he now, for I hear that he has
left Lesbos?”
“Where is he? Why, aboard yonder ship, of course. Oh! he has fooled you
finely. Another time you’ll search beggar’s rags more closely.”
“Cast off! Cast off!” roared Menas.
“Nay,” said the officer, “cast not off. Soldiers, drive away those
men. I must have words with the captain of this ship. Come, bring that
drunken fellow with you.”
“Now all is finished,” I said.
“Yes,” answered Heliodore, “all is finished. After we have endured so
much it is hard. Well, at least death remains to us.”
“Hold your hand,” exclaimed Martina. “God still lives and can save us
yet.”
Black bitterness took hold of me. In some few days I had hoped to reach
Lesbos, and there be wed to Heliodore. And now! And now!
“Cut the ropes, Menas,” I cried, “and out with the oars. We’ll risk the
galley. You, Martina, set me at the mouth of the gangway and tell me
when to strike. Though I be blind I may yet hold them back till we clear
the quay.”
She obeyed, and I drew the red sword from beneath my rags. Then, amidst
the confusion which followed, I heard the grave voice of Yusuf speaking
to me.
“Sir,” he said, “for your own sake I pray you put up that sword, which
we think is one whereof tales have been told. To fight is useless, for
I have bowmen who can shoot you down and spears that can outreach you.
General Olaf, a brave man should know when to surrender, especially if
he be blind.”
“Aye, sir,” I answered, “and a brave man should know when to die.”
“Why should you die, General?” went on the voice. “I do not know that
for a Christian to visit Egypt disguised as a beggar will be held a
crime worthy of death, unless indeed you came hither to spy out the
land.”
“Can the blind spy?” asked Martina indignantly.
“Who can say, Lady? But certainly it seems that _your_ eyes are bright
and quick enough. Also there is another matter. A while ago, when this
ship came to Alexandria, I signed a paper giving leave to a certain
eyeless musician and his niece to ply their trade in Egypt. Then there
were two of you; now I behold a third. Who is that comely lad with a
stained face that stands beside you?”
Heliodore began some story, saying that she was the orphan son of I
forget whom, and while she told it certain of the Moslems slipped past
me.
“Truly you should do well in the singing trade,” interrupted the officer
with a laugh, “seeing that for a boy your voice is wondrous sweet. Are
you quite sure that you remember your sex aright? Well, it can easily be
proved. Bare that lad’s bosom, soldiers. Nay, ’tis needless; snatch off
that head-dress.”
A man obeyed, and Heliodore’s beautiful black hair, which I would not
suffer her to cut, fell tumbling to her knees.
“Let me be,” she said. “I admit that I am a woman.”
“That is generous of you, Lady,” the officer answered in the midst
of the laughter which followed. “Now will you add to your goodness by
telling me your name? You refuse? Then shall I help you? In the late
Coptic war it was my happy fortune twice to see a certain noble maiden,
the daughter of Magas the Prince, whom the Emir Musa afterwards took for
himself, but who fled from him. Tell me, Lady, have you a twin sister?”
“Cease your mockings, sir,” said Heliodore despairingly. “I am she you
seek.”
“’Tis Musa seeks you, not I, Lady.”
“Then, sir, he seeks in vain, for know that ere he finds I die. Oh! sir,
I know you have a noble heart; be pitiful and let us go. I’ll tell you
all the truth. Olaf Red-Sword yonder and I have long been affianced.
Blind though he is, he sought me through great dangers, aye, and found
me. Would you part us at the last? In the name of the God we both
worship, and of your mother, I pray you let us go.”
“By the Prophet, that I would do, Lady, only then I fear me that I
should let my head go from its shoulders also. There are too many in
this secret for it to bide there long if I did as you desire. Nay,
you must to the Emir, all three of you--not Musa, but to his rival,
Obaidallah, who loves him little, and by the decree of the Caliph once
again rules Egypt. Be sure that in a matter between you and Musa you
will meet with justice from Obaidallah. Come now, fearing nothing, to
where we may find you all garments more befitting to your station than
those mummer’s robes.”
So a guard was formed round us, and we went. As my feet touched the quay
I heard a sound of angry voices, followed by groans and a splash in the
water.
“What is that?” I asked of Yusuf.
“I think, General, that your servants from the _Diana_ have settled some
account that they had with the drunken dog who was so good as to bark
out your name to me. But, with your leave, I will not look to make
sure.”
“God pardon him! As yet I cannot,” I muttered, and marched on.
We stood, whether on that day or another I do not know, in some hall of
judgment. Martina whispered to me that a small, dark man was seated in
the chair of state, and about him priests and others. This was the Emir
Obaidallah. Musa, that had been Emir, who, she said, was fat and sullen,
was there also, and whenever his glance fell upon Heliodore I felt her
shiver at my side. So was the Patriarch Politian who pleaded our cause.
The case was long, so long that, being courteous as ever, they gave us
cushions to sit on, also, in an interval, food and sherbet.
Musa claimed Heliodore as his slave. An officer who prosecuted claimed
that Allah having given me, their enemy and a well-known general who
had done them much damage, into their hands, I should be put to death.
Politian answered on behalf of all of us, saying that we had harmed no
man. He added that as there was a truce between the Christians and the
Moslems, I could not be made to suffer the penalties of war in a time of
peace, who had come to Egypt but to seek a maid to whom I was affianced.
Moreover, that even if it were so, the murder of prisoners was not one
of those penalties.
The Emir listened to all but said little. At length, however, he asked
whether we were willing to become Moslems, since if so he thought that
we might go free. We answered that we were not willing.
“Then it would seem,” he said, “that the lady Heliodore, having been
taken in war, must be treated as a prisoner of war, the only question
being to whom she belongs.”
Now Musa interrupted angrily, shouting out that as to this there was no
doubt, since she belonged to him, who had captured her during his tenure
of office.
The Emir thought a while, and we waited trembling. At last he gave
judgment, saying:
“The General Olaf the Blind, who in Byzantium was known as Olaf
Red-Sword or as Michael, and who while in the service of the Empress
Irene often made war against the followers of the Prophet, but who
afterwards lost his eyes at the hands of this same evil woman, is a man
of whom all the world has heard. Particularly have we Moslems heard of
him, seeing that as governor of Lesbos in recent days he inflicted a
great defeat upon our navy, slaying many thousands and taking others
prisoner. But as it chances God, Who bides His time to work justice, set
a bait for him in the shape of a fair woman. On this bait he has been
hooked, notwithstanding all his skill and cunning, and delivered into
our hands, having come into Egypt disguised as a beggar in order to seek
out that woman. Still, as he is so famous a man, and as at present there
is a truce between us and the Empire of the East, which truce raises
certain doubtful points of high policy, I decree that his case be
remitted to the Caliph Harun-al-Rashid, my master, and that he be
conveyed to Baghdad there to await judgment. With him will go the woman
whom he alleges to be his niece, but who, as we are informed, was one of
the waiting-ladies of the Empress Irene. Against her there is nothing to
be said save that she may be a Byzantine spy.
“Now I come to the matter of the lady Heliodore, who is reported to be
the wife or the lover or the affianced of this General Olaf, a question
of which God alone knows the truth. This lady Heliodore is a person of
high descent and ancient race. She is the only child of the late Prince
Magas, who claimed to have the blood of the old Pharaohs in his veins,
and who within this year was defeated and slain by my predecessor
in office, the Emir Musa. The said Emir, having captured the lady
Heliodore, purposed to place her in his harem, as he had a right to
do, seeing that she refused the blessings of the Faith. As it chanced,
however, she escaped from him, as it is told by stabbing the eunuch in
charge of her. At least it is certain that this eunuch was found dead,
though by whom he was killed is _not_ certain. Now that she has been
taken again, the lord Musa claims the woman as his spoil and demands
that I should hand her over to him. Yet it seems to me that if she is
the spoil of anyone, she belongs to the Emir governing Egypt at the date
of her recapture. It was only by virtue of his office as Emir, and not
by gift, purchase, or marriage contract, that the lord Musa came into
possession of her, which possession was voided by her flight before she
was added to his household and he acquired any natural rights over her
in accordance with our law. Now for my part, I, as Emir, make no claim
to this woman, holding it a hateful thing before God to force one into
my household who has no wish to dwell there, especially when I know
her to be married or affianced to another man. Still, as here also
are involved high questions of law, I command that the lady Heliodore,
daughter of the late Prince Magas, shall also be conveyed with all
courtesy and honour to the Caliph Harun at Baghdad, there to abide his
judgment of her case. The matter is finished. Let the officers concerned
carry out my decree and answer for the safety of these prisoners with
their lives.”
“The matter is not finished,” shouted the ex-Emir Musa. “You,
Obaidallah, have uttered this false judgment because your heart is black
towards me whom you have displaced.”
“Then appeal against it,” said Obaidallah, “but know that if you attempt
to lay hands upon this lady, my orders are that you be cut down as an
enemy to the law. Patriarch of the Christians, you sail for Baghdad to
visit the Caliph at his request in a ship that he has sent for you. Into
your hands I give these prisoners under guard, knowing that you will
deal well with them, who are of your false faith. To you also who have
the Caliph’s ear, Allah knows why, I will entrust letters making true
report of all this matter. Let proper provision be made for the comfort
of the General Olaf and of those with him. Musa, may your greetings at
the Court of Baghdad be such as you deserve; meanwhile cease to trouble
me.”
At the door of that hall I was separated from Heliodore and Martina
and led to some house or prison, where I was given a large room with
servants to wait upon me. Here I slept that night, and on the morrow
asked when we sailed for Beirut on our way to Baghdad. The chief of the
servants answered that he did not know. During that day I was visited
by Yusuf, the officer who had captured us on board the _Diana_. He also
told me that he did not know when we sailed, but certainly it would not
be for some days. Further, he said that I need have no fear for the lady
Heliodore and Martina, as they were well treated in some other place.
Then he led me into a great garden, where he said I was at liberty to
walk whenever I pleased.
Thus began perhaps the most dreadful time of waiting and suspense in all
this life of mine, seeing that it was the longest. Every few days the
officer Yusuf would visit me and talk of many matters, for we became
friends. Only of Heliodore and Martina he could or would tell me
nothing, nor of when we were to set out on our journey to Baghdad.
I asked to be allowed to speak with the Patriarch Politian, but he
answered that this was impossible, as he had been called away from
Alexandria for a little while. Nor could I have audience with the Emir
Obaidallah, for he too had been called away.
Now my heart was filled with terrors, for I feared lest in this way
or in that Heliodore had fallen into the hands of the accursed Musa. I
prayed Yusuf to tell me the truth of the matter, whereon he swore by the
Prophet that she was safe, but would say no more. Nor did this comfort
me much, since for aught I knew he might mean she was safe in death.
I was aware, further, that the Moslems held it no crime to deceive an
infidel. Week was added to week, and still I languished in this rich
prison. The best of garments and food were brought to me; I was even
given wine. Kind hands tended me and led me from place to place. I
lacked nothing except freedom and the truth. Doubt and fear preyed upon
my heart till at length I fell ill and scarcely cared to walk in the
garden. One day when Yusuf visited me I told him that he would not need
to come many more times, since I felt that I was going to die.
“Do not die,” he answered, “since then perchance you will find you have
done so in vain,” and he left me.
On the following evening he returned and told me that he had brought
a physician to see me, a certain Mahommed, who was standing before me.
Although I had no hope from any physician, I prayed this Mahommed to be
seated, whereon Yusuf left us, closing the door behind him.
“Be pleased to set out your case, General Olaf,” said Mahommed in a
grave, quiet voice, “for know that I am sent by the Caliph himself to
minister to you.”
“How can that be, seeing that he is in Baghdad?” I answered. Still, I
told him my ailments.
When I had finished he said:
“I perceive that you suffer more from your mind than from your body. Be
so good, now, as to repeat to me the tale of your life, of which I have
already heard something. Tell me especially of those parts of it which
have to do with the lady Heliodore, daughter of Magas, of your blinding
by Irene for her sake, and of your discovery of her in Egypt, where you
sought her disguised as a beggar.”
“Why should I tell you all my story, sir?”
“That I may know how to heal you of your sickness. Also, General Olaf, I
will be frank with you. I am more than a mere physician; I have certain
powers under the Caliph’s seal, and it will be wise on your part to open
all your heart to me.”
Now I reflected that there could be little harm in repeating to this
strange doctor what so many already knew. So I told him everything, and
the tale was long.
“Wondrous! Most wondrous!” said the grave-voiced physician when I had
finished. “Yet to me the strangest part of your history is that played
therein by the lady Martina. Had she been your lover, now, one might
have understood--perhaps,” and he paused.
“Sir Physician,” I answered, “the lady Martina has been and is no more
than my friend.”
“Ah! Now I see new virtues in your religion, since we Moslems do not
find such friends among those women who are neither our mothers nor our
sisters. Evidently the Christian faith must have power to change the
nature of women, which I thought to be impossible. Well, General Olaf, I
will consider of your case, and I may tell you that I have good hopes of
finding a medicine by which it can be cured, all save your sight, which
in this world God Himself cannot give back to you. Now I have a favour
to ask. I see that in this room of yours there is a curtain hiding the
bed of the servant who sleeps with you. I desire to see another patient
here, and that this patient should not see you. Of your goodness will
you sit upon the bed behind that curtain, and will you swear to me on
your honour as a soldier that whatever you may hear you will in no way
reveal yourself?”
“Surely, that is if it is nothing which will bring disgrace upon my head
or name.”
“It will be nothing to bring disgrace on your head or name, General
Olaf, though perhaps it may bring some sorrow to your heart. As yet I
cannot say.”
“My heart is too full of sorrow to hold more,” I answered.
Then he led me down to the guard’s bed, on which I sat myself down,
being strangely interested in this play. He drew the curtain in front of
me, and I heard him return to the centre of the room and clap his hands.
Someone entered, saying,
“High Lord, your will?”
“Silence!” he exclaimed, and began to whisper orders, while I wondered
what kind of a physician this might be who was addressed as “High Lord.”
The servant went, and, after a while of waiting that seemed long, once
more the door was opened, and I heard the sweep of a woman’s dress upon
the carpet.
“Be seated, Lady,” said the grave voice of the physician, “for I have
words to say to you.”
“Sir, I obey,” answered another voice, at the sound of which my heart
stood still. It was that of Heliodore.
“Lady,” went on the physician, “as my robe will tell you, I am a doctor
of medicine. Also, as it chances, I am something more, namely, an envoy
appointed by the Caliph Harun-al-Rashid, having full powers to deal
with your case. Here are my credentials if you care to read them,” and I
heard a crackling as of parchment being unfolded.
“Sir,” answered Heliodore, “I will read the letters later. For the
present I accept your word. Only I would ask one question, if it pleases
you to answer. Why have not I and the General Olaf been conveyed to
the presence of the Caliph himself, as was commanded by the Emir
Obaidallah?”
“Lady, because it was not convenient to the Caliph to receive you,
since as it chances at present he is moving from place to place upon the
business of the State. Therefore, as you will find in the writing, he
has appointed me to deal with your matter. Now, Lady, the Caliph and I
his servant know all your story from lips which even you would trust.
You are betrothed to a certain enemy of his, a Northman named Olaf
Red-Sword or Michael, who was blinded by the Empress Irene for some
offence against her, but was afterwards appointed by her son Constantine
to be governor of the Isle of Lesbos. This Olaf, by the will of God,
inflicted a heavy defeat upon the forces of the Caliph which he had sent
to take Lesbos. Then, by the goodness of God, he wandered to Egypt in
search of you, with the result that both of you were taken prisoner.
Lady, it will be clear to you that, having this wild hawk Olaf in his
hands, the Caliph would scarcely let him go again to prey upon the
Moslems, though whether he will kill him or make of him a slave as yet I
do not know. Nay, hear me out before you speak. The Caliph has been told
of your wondrous beauty, and as I see even less than the truth. Also he
has heard of the high spirit which you showed in the Coptic rising, when
your father, the Prince Magas, was slain, and of how you escaped out
of the hand of the Emir Musa the Fat, and were not afraid to dwell for
months alone in the tombs of the ancient dead. Now the Caliph, being
moved in his heart by your sad plight and all that he has heard
concerning you, commands me to make you an offer.
“The offer is that you should come to his Court, and there be instructed
for a while by his learned men in the truths of religion. Then, if it
pleases you to adopt Islam, he will take you as one of his wives, and
if it does not please you, will add you to his harem, since it is not
lawful for him to marry a woman who remains a Christian. In either case
he will make on you a settlement of property to the value of that which
belonged to your father, the Prince Magas. Reflect well before you
answer. Your choice lies between the memory of a blind man, whom I think
you will never see again, and the high place of one of the wives of the
greatest sovereign of the earth.”
“Sir, before I answer I would put a question to you. Why do you say ‘the
memory of a blind man’?”
“Because, Lady, a rumour has reached me which I desired to hold back
from you, but which now you force me to repeat. It is that this General
Olaf has in truth already passed the gate of death.”
“Then, sir,” she answered, with a little sob, “it behoves me to follow
him through that gate.”
“That will happen when it pleases God. Meanwhile, what is your answer?”
“Sir, my answer is that I, a poor Christian prisoner, a victim of war
and fate, thank the Caliph Harun-al-Rashid for the honours and the
benefits he would shower on me, and with humility decline them.”
“So be it, Lady. The Caliph is not a man who would wish to force your
inclination. Still, this being so, I am charged to say he bids you
remember that you were taken prisoner in war by the Emir Musa. He holds
that, subject to his own prior right, which he waives, you are the
property of the Emir Musa under a just interpretation of the law. Yet
he would be merciful as God is merciful, and therefore he gives you the
choice of three things. The first of these is that you adopt Islam with
a faithful heart and go free.”
“That I refuse, as I have refused it before,” said Heliodore.
“The second is,” he continued, “that you enter the harem of the Emir
Musa.”
“That I refuse also.”
“And the third and last is that, having thrust aside his mercy, you
suffer the common fate of a captured Christian who persists in error,
and die.”
“That I accept,” said Heliodore.
“You accept death. In the splendour of your youth and beauty, you accept
death,” he said, with a note of wonder in his voice. “Truly, you are
great-hearted, and the Caliph will grieve when he learns his loss, as
I do now. Yet I have my orders, for which my head must answer. Lady, if
you die, it must be here and now. Do you still choose death?”
“Yes,” she said in a low voice.
“Behold this cup,” he went on, “and this draught which I pour into it,”
and I heard the sound of liquid flowing. “Presently I shall ask you to
drink of it, and then, after a little while, say the half of an hour,
you will fall asleep, to wake in whatever world God has appointed to
the idol worshippers of the Cross. You will suffer no pain and no fear;
indeed, maybe the draught will bring you joy.”
“Then give it me,” said Heliodore faintly. “I will drink at once and
have done.”
Then it was that I came out from behind my curtain and groped my way
towards them.
“Sir Physician, or Sir Envoy of the Caliph Harun,” I said; but for the
moment went no further, since, with a low cry, Heliodore cast herself
upon my breast and stopped my lips with hers.
“Hush till I have spoken,” I whispered, placing my arm about her; then
continued. “I swore to you just now that I would not reveal myself
unless I heard aught which would bring disgrace on my head or name. To
stand still behind yonder curtain while my betrothed is poisoned at your
hands would bring disgrace upon my head and name so black that not
all the seas of all the world could wash it away. Say, Physician, does
yonder cup hold enough of death for both of us?”
“Yes, General Olaf, and if you choose to share it I think the Caliph
will be glad, since he loves not the killing of brave men. Only it must
be now and without more words. You can talk for a little afterwards
before the sleep takes you.”
“So be it,” I said. “Since I must die, as I heard you decree but now, it
is no crime to die thus, or at least I’ll risk it who have one to guard
upon that road. Drink, beloved, a little less than half since I am the
stronger. Then give me the cup.”
“Husband, I pledge you,” she said, and drank, thrusting the cup into my
hand.
I, too, lifted it to my lips. Lo! it was empty.
“Oh! most cruel of thieves,” I cried, “you have stolen all.”
“Aye,” she answered. “Shall I see you swallow poison before my eyes? I
die, but perchance God may save you yet.”
“Not so, Heliodore,” I cried again, and, turning, began to grope my way
to the window-place, which I knew was far from the ground, since I had
no weapon that would serve my turn.
In an instant, as I thrust the lattice open, I felt two strong arms cast
about me and heard the physician exclaim,
“Come, Lady, help me with this madman, lest he do himself a mischief.”
She seized me also, and we struggled together all three of us. The doors
burst open, and I was dragged back into the centre of the room.
“Olaf Red-Sword, the blind General of the Christians,” said the
physician in a new voice, one that was full of majesty and command,
“I who speak to you am no doctor of medicine and no envoy. I am
Harun-al-Rashid, Caliph of the Faithful. Is it not so, my servants?”
“It is so, Caliph,” pealed the answer from many throats.
“Hearken, then, to the decree of Harun-al-Rashid. Learn both of you that
all which has passed between us was but a play that I have played to
test the love and faithfulness of you twain. Lady Heliodore, be at ease.
You have drunk nothing save water distilled with roses, and no sleep
shall fall on you save that which Nature brings to happiness. Lady, I
tell you that, having seen what I have seen and heard what I have heard,
rather would I stand in the place of that blind man to-night than be
Sovereign of the East. Truly, I knew not that love such as yours was to
be met with in the world. I say that when I saw you drain the cup in a
last poor struggle to drive back the death that threatened this Olaf my
own heart went out in love for you. Yet have no fear, since my love is
of a kind that would not rob you of your love, but rather would bring it
to a rich and glorious blossom in the sunshine of my favour. Wondrous is
the tale of the wooing of you twain and happy shall be its end. General
Olaf, you conquered me in war and dealt with those of my servants who
fell into your hands according to the nobleness of your heart. Shall
I, then, be outdone in generosity by one whom a while ago I should have
named a Christian dog? Not so! Let the high priest of the Christians,
Politian, be brought hither. He stands without, and with him the lady
named Martina, who was the Empress Irene’s waiting-woman.”
The messengers went and there followed a silence. There are times when
the heart is too full for words; at least, Heliodore and I found nothing
to say to each other. We only clasped each other’s hand and waited.
At length the door opened, and I heard the eager, bustling step of
Politian, also another gliding step, which I knew for that of Martina.
She came to me, she kissed me on the brow, and whispered into my ear,
“So all is well at last, as I knew it would be; and now, Olaf--and now,
Olaf, you are about to be married. Yes, at once, and--I wish you joy.”
Her words were simple enough, yet they kindled in my heart a light by
which it saw many things.
“Martina,” I said, “if I have lived to reach this hour, under God it is
through you. Martina, they say that each of us has a guardian angel in
heaven, and if that be so, mine has come to earth. Yet in heaven alone
shall I learn to thank her as I ought.”
Then suddenly Martina was sobbing on my breast; after which I remember
only that Heliodore helped me to wipe away her tears, while in the
background I heard the Caliph say to himself in his deep voice,
“Wondrous! Wondrous! By Allah! these Christians are a strange folk. How
far wiser is our law, for then he could have married both of them, and
all three would have been happy. Truly he who decreed that it should be
so knew the heart of man and woman and was a prophet sent by God. Nay,
answer me not, friend Politian, since on matters of religion we have
agreed that we will never argue. Do your office according to your unholy
rites, and I and my servants will watch, praying that the Evil One may
be absent from the service. Oh! silence, silence! Have I not said that
we will not argue on subjects of religion? To your business, man.”
So Politian drew us together to the other end of the chamber, and there
wed us as best he might, with Martina for witness and the solemn Moslems
for congregation.
When it was over, Harun commanded my wife to lead me before him.
“Here is a marriage gift for you, General Olaf,” he said; “one, I think,
that you will value more than any other,” and he handed me something
sharp and heavy.
I felt it, hilt and blade, and knew it for the Wanderer’s sword, yes,
my own red sword from which I took my name, that the Commander of the
Faithful now restored to me, and with it my place and freedom. I took
it, and, saying no word, with that same sword gave to him the triple
salute due to a sovereign.
Instantly I heard Harun’s scimitar, the scimitar that was famous
throughout the East, rattle as it left its scabbard, as did the
scimitars of all those who attended on him, and knew that there was
being returned to me the salute which a sovereign gives to a general in
high command. Then the Caliph spoke again.
“A wedding gift to you, Lady Heliodore, child of an ancient and mighty
race, and new-made wife of a gallant man. For the second time to-night
take this cup of gold, but let that which lies within it adorn your
breast in memory of Harun. Queens of old have worn those jewels, but
never have they hung above a nobler heart.”
Heliodore took the cup, and in her trembling hand I heard the priceless
gems that filled it clink against its sides. Once more the Caliph spoke.
“A gift for you also, Lady Martina. Take this ring from my hand and
place it on your own. It seems a small thing, does it not? Yet something
lies within its circle. In this city I saw to-day a very beauteous house
built by one of your Grecian folk, and behind it lands that a swift
horse could scarcely circle twice within an hour, most fruitful lands
fed by the waters. That house and those lands are yours, together with
rule over all who dwell upon them. There you may live content with
whomever you may please, even if he be a Christian, free of tax or
tribute, provided only that neither you nor he shall plot against my
power. Now, to all three of you farewell, perchance for ever, unless
some of us should meet again in war. General Olaf, your ship lies in
the harbour; use it when you will. I pray that you will think kindly of
Harun-al-Rashid, as he does of you, Olaf Red-Sword. Come, let us leave
these two. Lady Martina, I pray you to be my guest this night.”
So they all went, leaving Heliodore and myself alone in the great room,
yes, alone at last and safe.
CHAPTER V
IRENE’S PRAYER
Years had gone by, I know not how many, but only that much had happened
in them. For a while Irene and young Constantine were joint rulers
of the Empire. Then they quarrelled again, and Constantine, afraid of
treachery, fled with his friends in a ship after an attempt had been
made to seize his person. He purposed to join his legions in Asia, or so
it was said, and make war upon his mother. But those friends of his upon
the ship were traitors, who, fearing Irene’s vengeance or perhaps his
own, since she threatened to tell him all the truth concerning them,
seized Constantine and delivered him up to Irene. She, the mother who
bore him, caused him to be taken to the purple Porphyry Chamber in the
palace, that chamber in which, as the first-born of an emperor, he saw
the light, and there robbed him of light for ever.
Yes, Stauracius and his butchers blinded Constantine as I had been
blinded. Only it was told that they drove their knives deeper so that he
died. But others say that he lived on, a prisoner, unknown, unheeded, as
those uncles of his whom _he_ had blinded and who once were in my charge
had lived, till in Greece the assassin’s daggers found their hearts. If
so, oh! what a fate was his.
Afterwards for five years Irene reigned alone in glory, while
Stauracius, my god-father, and his brother eunuch, Aetius, strove
against each other to be first Minister of the Crown. Aetius won, and,
not content with all he had, plotted that his relative Nicetas, who held
the place of Captain of the Guard, which once I filled, should be named
successor to the throne. Then at last the nobles rebelled, and, electing
one of their number, Nicephorus, as emperor, seized Irene in her private
house of Eleutherius, where she lay sick, and crowned Nicephorus in St.
Sophia. Next day he visited Irene, when, fearing the worst and broken
by illness, she bought a promise of safety by revealing to him all her
hoarded treasure.
Thus fell Irene, the mighty Empress of the Eastern Empire!
Now during all these years Heliodore and I were left in peace at Lesbos.
I was not deposed from my governorship of that isle, which prospered
greatly under my rule. Even Irene’s estates, which Constantine had given
me, were not taken away. At the appointed times I remitted the
tribute due, yes, and added to the sum, and received back the official
acknowledgment signed by the Empress, and with it the official thanks.
But with these never came either letter or message. Yet it is evident
she knew that I was married, for to Heliodore did come a message, and
with it a gift. The gift was that necklace and those other ornaments
which Irene had caused to be made in an exact likeness of the string
of golden shells separated by emerald beetles, one half of which I had
taken from the grave of the Wanderer at Aar and the other half of which
was worn by Heliodore.
So much of the gift. The message was that she who owned the necklace
might wish to have the rest of the set. To it were added the words that
a certain general had been wrong when he prophesied that the wearing
of this necklace by any woman save one would bring ill fortune to the
wearer, since from the day it hung about Irene’s neck even that which
seemed to be bad fortune had turned to good. Thus she had escaped “the
most evil thing in the world, namely, another husband,” and had become
the first woman in the world.
These words, which were written on a piece of sheepskin, sealed up, and
addressed to the Lady Heliodore, but unsigned, I thought of the most
evil omen, since boastfulness always seems to be hateful to the Power
that decrees our fates. So, indeed, they proved to be.
On a certain day in early summer--it was the anniversary of my marriage
in Egypt--Heliodore and I had dined with but two guests. Those guests
were Jodd, the great Northman, my lieutenant, and his wife, Martina, for
within a year of our return to Lesbos Jodd and Martina had married. It
comes back to me that there was trouble about the business, but that
when Jodd gave out that either she must marry him or that he would sail
back to his northern land, bidding good-bye to us all for ever, Martina
gave way. I think that Heliodore managed the matter in some fashion of
her own after the birth of our first-born son; how, I held it best never
to inquire. At least, it was managed, and the marriage turned out well
enough in the end, although at first Martina was moody at times and
somewhat sharp of tongue with Jodd. Then they had a baby which died, and
this dead child drew them closer together than it might have done had it
lived. At any rate, from that time forward Martina grew more gentle with
Jodd, and when other children were born they seemed happy together.
Well, we four had dined, and it comes to me that our talk turned upon
the Caliph Harun and his wonderful goodness to us, whom as Christians he
was bound to despise and hate. Heliodore told me then for the first time
how she was glad he had made it clear so soon that what she drank from
the gold cup which now stood upon our table was no more than rose water.
So strong is the working of the mind that already she had begun to feel
as though poison were numbing her heart and clouding her brain, and
was sure that soon she would have fallen into the sleep which Harun had
warned her would end in death.
“Had he been a true physician, he would have known that this might be
so, and that such grim jests are very dangerous,” I said. Then I added,
for I did not wish to dwell longer upon a scene the memory of which was
dreadful to me, although it had ended well,
“Tell us, Martina, is it true that those rich possessions of yours in
Alexandria which the Caliph gave you are sold?”
“Yes, Olaf,” she answered, “to a company of Greek merchants, and not
so ill. The contract was signed but yesterday. It was my wish that we
should leave Lesbos and go to live in this place, as we might have done
with safety under Harun’s signed _firman_, but Jodd here refused.”
“Aye,” said Jodd in his big voice. “Am I one to dwell among Moslems
and make money out of trade and gardens in however fine a house? Why, I
should have been fighting with these prophet-worshippers within a month,
and had my throat cut. Moreover, how could I bear to be separated from
my general, and whatever she may think, how could Martina bear to lose
sight of her god-son? Why, Olaf, I tell you that, although you are
married and she is married, she still thinks twice as much of you as she
does of me. Oh! blind man’s dog once, blind man’s dog always! Look
not so angry, Martina. Why, I wonder, does the truth always make women
angry?” and he burst into one of his great laughs.
At this moment Heliodore rose from the table and walked to the open
window-place to speak to our children and Martina’s, a merry company who
were playing together in the garden. Here she stood a while studying the
beautiful view of the bay beneath; then of a sudden called out,
“A ship! A ship sailing into the harbour, and it flies the Imperial
standard.”
“Then pray God she brings no bad news,” I said, who feared that Imperial
standard and felt that we had all been somewhat too happy of late.
Moreover, I knew that no royal ship was looked for from Byzantium at
this time, and dreaded lest this one should bear letters from the new
Emperor dismissing me from my office, or even worse tidings.
“What bad news should she bring?” growled Jodd. “Oh! I know what is in
your mind, General, but if this upstart Nicephorus is wise, he’ll leave
you alone, since Lesbos does not want another governor, and will tell
him so if there be need. Yes, it will take more than one ship of war,
aye, and more than three, to set up another governor in Lesbos. Nay,
rebuke me not, General, for I at least have sworn no oath of homage to
this Nicephorus, nor have the other Northmen or the men of Lesbos.”
“You are like a watchdog, Jodd, barking at you know not what, just
because it is strange. Go now, I pray you, to the quay, and bring back
to us news of this ship.”
So he went, and for the next two hours or more I sat in my private room
dictating letters to Heliodore on matters connected with the duties of
my office. The work came to an end at last, and I was preparing to take
my evening ride on a led mule when Martina entered the room.
“Do you ride with us to-night, Martina?” I asked, recognising her step.
“No, Olaf,” she said quickly, “nor I think can you. Here are letters for
you from Byzantium. Jodd has brought them from the ship.”
“Where is Jodd?” I said.
“Without, in the company of the captain of the ship, some guards, and a
prisoner.”
“What prisoner?”
“Perchance the letters will tell you,” she replied evasively. “Have I
your command to open and read? They are marked ‘Most Secret.’”
I nodded, since Martina often acted as my secretary in high matters,
being from her training skilled in such things. So she broke the seals
and read to myself and to Heliodore, who also was present in the room,
as follows:
“‘To the Excellent Michael, a General of our armies and Governor of the
Isle of Lesbos, Greetings from Nicephorus, by the will of God Emperor.
“‘Know, O Michael, that we, the Emperor, reposing especial faith in
you our trusted servant, with these letters deliver into your keeping a
certain prisoner of State. This prisoner is none other than Irene, who
aforetime was Empress.
“‘Because of her many wickednesses in the sight of God and man we by
the decree of the People, of the Army, of the Senate and of the high
Officers of State amidst general rejoicing deposed the said Irene,
widow of the Emperor Leo and mother of the late Emperor Constantine, and
placed ourselves upon the throne. The said Irene, at her own request,
we consigned to the place called the Island of Princes, setting her
in charge of certain holy monks. Whilst there, abusing our mercy and
confidence, she set on foot plots to murder our Person and repossess
herself of the throne.
“‘Now our Councillors with one voice urged that she should be put to
death in punishment of her crimes, but we, being mindful of the teaching
of our Lord and Saviour and of His saying that we should turn the other
cheek to those who smite us, out of our gentle pity have taken another
counsel.
“‘Learn now, most excellent Michael the Blind, who once were known as
Olaf Red-Sword, that we hand over to your keeping the person of Irene,
aforetime Empress, charging you to deal with her as she dealt with you
and as she dealt also with the late Emperor Constantine, the son of her
body, for thus shall her evil plottings be brought to naught.’”
“By God’s Name, he means that I must blind her!” I exclaimed.
Making no answer, Martina went on with the letter----
“‘Should the said Irene survive her just punishment, we command you
to make sufficient provision for her daily wants, but no more, and to
charge the same against the sum due Us from the revenues of Lesbos.
Should she die at once, or at any future time, give to her decent
private burial, and report to Us the circumstances of her death duly
attested.
“‘Keep these Presents secret and do not act upon them until the ship
which brings them and the prisoner to you has sailed for Byzantium,
which it is ordered to do as soon as it has been revictualled. On your
head be it to carry out these our commands, for which you shall answer
with your life and those of your wife and children. This signed and
sealed at our Court of Byzantium on the twelfth day of the sixth month
of the first year of our reign, and countersigned by the high officers
whose names appear beneath.’”
Such was this awful letter that, having read, Martina thrust into my
hand as though she would be rid of it. Then followed a silence, which at
length Martina broke.
“Your commands, Excellency,” she said in a dry voice. “I understand that
the--the--prisoner is in the ante-room in charge of the Captain Jodd.”
“Then let her remain in the charge of the Captain Jodd,” I exclaimed
angrily, “and in your charge, Martina, who are accustomed to attending
upon her, and know that you are both answerable for her safety with your
lives. Send the captain of the ship to me and prepare a discharge for
him. I will not see this woman till he has sailed, since until then I am
commanded to keep all secret. Send also the head officer of the guard.”
Three days went by. The Imperial ship had sailed, taking with her my
formal acknowledgment of the Emperor’s letter, and the time had come
when once more I must meet Irene face to face.
I sat in the audience chamber of my Great House, and there was present
with me only Jodd, my lieutenant in office. Being blind, I dared not
receive a desperate woman alone, fearing lest she might stab me or do
herself some mischief. At the door of the chamber Jodd took her from the
guards, whom he bade remain within call, and conducted her to where I
sat. He told me afterwards that she was dressed as a nun, a white hood
half hiding her still beautiful face and a silver crucifix hanging upon
her breast.
As I heard her come I rose and bowed to her, and my first words to her
were to pray her to be seated.
“Nay,” she answered in that rich, well-remembered voice of hers, “a
prisoner stands before the judge. I greet you, General Olaf, I pray your
pardon--Michael--after long years of separation. You have changed but
little, and I rejoice to see that your health is good and that the rank
and prosperity which I gave have not been taken from you.”
“I greet you, Madam,” (almost had I said Augusta), I answered, then
continued hurriedly: “Lady Irene, I have received certain commands
concerning you from the Emperor Nicephorus which it is best that you
should hear, so that you shall hold me quit of blame in aught that it
may be my duty to inflict upon you. Read them, Captain Jodd. Nay, I
forgot, you cannot. Give the copy of the letter to the Lady Irene; the
original she can see afterwards if she wills.”
So the paper was given to her by Jodd, and she read it aloud, weighing
each word carefully.
“Oh, what a dog is this!” she said when it was finished. “Know, Olaf,
that of my free will I surrendered the throne to him, yes, and all my
private treasure, he swearing upon the Gospels that I should live in
peace and honour till my life’s end. And now he sends me to you to be
blinded and then done to death, for that is what he means. Oh! may God
avenge me upon him! May he become a byword and a scorn, and may his own
end be even worse than that which he has prepared for me. May shame
wrap his memory as in a garment, may his bones be dishonoured and his
burying-place forgotten. Aye, and so it shall be.”[*]
[*] The skull of this Nicephorus is said to have been used
as a drinking cup by his victorious enemy, the King Krum.--
Editor.
She paused in her fearful curse, then said in a new voice, that voice in
which she was wont to plead,
“You will not blind me, Olaf. You’ll not take from me my last blessing,
the light of day. Think what it means----”
“The General Olaf should know well enough,” interrupted Jodd, but I
waved him to be silent, and answered,
“Tell me, Madam, how can I do otherwise? It seems to me that my life and
that of my wife and children hang upon this deed. Moreover, why should
I do otherwise now that by God’s justice the wheel has come round at
last?” I added, pointing to the hollows beneath my brows where the eyes
once had been.
“Oh! Olaf,” she said, “if I harmed you, you know well it was because I
loved you.”
“Then God send that no woman ever loves me in such a fashion,” broke in
Jodd.
“Olaf,” she continued, taking no note of him, “once you went very near
to loving me also, on that night when you would have eaten the poisoned
figs to save my son, the Emperor. At least, you kissed me. If you
forget, I cannot. Olaf, can you blind a woman whom you have kissed?”
“Kissing takes two, and I know that you blinded him,” muttered Jodd,
“for I crucified the brutes you commanded to do the deed to which they
confessed.”
“Olaf, I admit that I treated you ill; I admit that I would have killed
you; but, believe me, it was jealousy and naught but jealousy which
drove me on. Almost as soon would I have killed myself; indeed, I
thought of it.”
“And there the matter ended,” said Jodd. “It was Olaf who walked the
Hall of the Pit, not you. We found him on the brink of the hole.”
“Olaf, after I regained my power----”
“By blinding your own son,” said Jodd, “for which you will have an
account to settle one day.”
“----I dealt well with you. Knowing that you had married my rival, for
I kept myself informed of all you did, still I lifted no hand against
you----”
“What good was a maimed man to you when you were courting the Emperor
Charlemagne?” asked Jodd.
Now at last she turned on him, saying,
“Well is it for you, Barbarian, that if only for a while Fate has reft
power from my hands. Oh! this is the bitterest drop in all my cup,
that I who for a score of years ruled the world must live to suffer the
insults of such as you.”
“Then why not die and have done?” asked the imperturbable Jodd. “Or, if
you lack the courage, why not submit to the decree of the Emperor, as
so many have submitted to your decree, instead of troubling the general
here with prayers for mercy? It would serve as well.”
“Jodd,” I said, “I command you to be silent. This lady is in trouble;
attack those in power, if you will, not those who have fallen.”
“There speaks the man I loved,” said Irene. “What perverse fate kept us
apart, Olaf? Had you taken what I offered, by now you and I would have
ruled the world.”
“Perhaps, Madam; yet it is right I should say that I do not regret my
choice, although because of it I can no longer--look upon the world.”
“I know, I know! She of that accursed necklace, which I see you still
wear, came between us and spoiled everything. Now I’m ruined for lack of
you and you are nobody for lack of me, a soldier who will run his petty
course and depart into the universal darkness, leaving never a name
behind him. In the ages to be what man will take count of one of a score
of governors of the little Isle of Lesbos, who might yet have held the
earth in the hollow of his hand and shone a second Cæsar in its annals?
Oh! what marplot of a devil rules our destinies? He who fashioned those
golden shells upon your breast, or so I think. Well, well, it is so and
cannot be altered. The Augusta of the Empire of the East must plead
with the man who rejected her, for sight, or rather for her life. You
understand, do you not, Olaf, that letter is a command to you to murder
me?”
“Just such a command as you gave to those who blinded your son
Constantine,” muttered Jodd beneath his breath.
“That is what is meant. You are to murder me, and, Olaf, I’m not fit
to die. Great place brings great temptations, and I admit that I have
greatly sinned; I need time upon the earth to make my peace with Heaven,
and if you slay my body now, you will slay my soul as well. Oh! be
pitiful! Be pitiful! Olaf, you cannot kill the woman who has lain upon
your breast, it is against nature. If you did such a thing you’d never
sleep again; you would shudder yourself over the edge of the world!
Being what you are, no pomp or power would ever pay you for the deed. Be
true to your own high heart and spare me. See, I who for so long was
the ruler of many kingdoms, kneel to you and pray you to spare me,” and,
casting herself down upon her knees, she laid her head upon my feet and
wept.
All that scene comes back to me with a strange and terrible vividness,
although I had no sight to aid me in its details, save the sight of my
soul. I remember that the wonder and horror of it pierced me through and
through; the stab of the dagger in my eyes was not more sharp. There was
I, Olaf, a mere gentleman of the North, seated in my chair of office,
and there before me, her mighty head bowed upon my feet, knelt the
Empress of the Earth pleading for her life. In truth all history could
show few stranger scenes. What was I to do? If I yielded to her piteous
prayers, it was probable that my own life and those of my wife and
children would pay the price. Yet how could I clap my hands in their
Eastern fashion and summon the executioners to pierce those streaming
eyes of hers? “Rise, Augusta,” I said, for in this extremity of her
shame I gave her back her title, “and tell me, you who are accustomed to
such matters, how I can spare you who deal with the lives of others as
well as with my own?”
“I thank you for that name,” she said as she struggled to her feet.
“I’ve heard it shouted by tens of thousands in the circus and from the
throats of armies, but never yet has it been half so sweet to me as now
from lips that have no need to utter it. In times bygone I’d have paid
you for this service with a province, but now Irene is so poor that,
like some humble beggar-woman, she can but give her thanks. Still,
repeat it no more, for next time it will sound bitter. What did you ask?
How you could save me, was it not? Well, the thing seems simple. In all
that letter from Nicephorus there is no direct command that you should
blind me. The fellow says that you are to treat me as I treated you,
and as I treated Constantine, the Emperor--because I must. Well, I
imprisoned both of you. Imprison me and you fulfil the mandate. He says
that if I die you are to report it, which shows that he does not mean
that I _must_ die. Oh! the road of escape is easy, should you desire
to travel it. If you do not so desire, then, Olaf, I pray you as a last
favour not to hand me over to common men. I see that by your side still
hangs that red sword of yours wherewith once I threatened you when you
refused me at Byzantium. Draw it, Olaf, and this time I’ll guide its
edge across my throat. So you will please Nicephorus and win the rewards
that Irene can no longer give. Baptised in her blood, what earthly glory
is there to which you might not yet attain, you who had dared to lay
hands upon the anointed flesh that even her worst foes have feared to
touch lest God’s sudden curse should strike them dead?”
So she went on pouring out words with the strange eloquence that she
could command at times, till I grew bewildered. She who had lived in
light and luxury, who had loved the vision of all bright and glorious
things, was pleading for her sight to the man whom she had robbed of
sight that he might never more behold the young beauty of her rival. She
who had imagination to know the greatness of her sins was pleading to
be spared the death she dared not face. She was pleading to me, who for
years had been her faithful soldier, the captain of her own guard, sworn
to protect her from the slightest ill, me upon whom, for a while, it had
pleased her to lavish the wild passion of her imperial heart, who once
had almost loved--who, indeed, had kissed her on the lips.
My orders were definite. I was commanded to blind this woman and to kill
her in the blinding, which, in truth, I who had power of life and
death, I who ruled over this island like a king by virtue of the royal
commission, could do without question asked. If I _failed_ to fulfil
those orders, I must be prepared to pay the price, as if I did fulfil
them I might expect a high reward, probably the governorship of some
great province of the Empire. This was no common prisoner. She was the
ex-Empress, a mighty woman to whom tens of thousands or perhaps millions
still looked for help and leadership. It was necessary to those who
had seized her place and power that she should be rendered incapable of
rule. It was desirable to them that she should die. Yet so delicately
were the scales poised between them and the adherents of Irene, among
whom were numbered all the great princes of the Church, that they
themselves did not dare to inflict mutilation or death upon her. They
feared lest it should be followed by a storm of wrath that would shake
Nicephorus from his throne and involve them in his ruin.
So they sent her to me, the governor of a distant dependency, the man
whom they knew she had wickedly wronged, being certain that her tongue,
which it was said could turn the hearts of all men, would never soften
mine. Then afterwards they would declare that the warrant was a forgery,
that I had but wreaked a private vengeance upon an ancient foe, and, to
still the scandal, degrade me from my governorship--into some place of
greater power and profit.
Oh! while Irene pleaded before me and, heedless of the presence of Jodd,
even cast her arms about me and laid her head upon my breast, all these
things passed through my mind. In its scales I weighed the matter out,
and the beam rose against me, for I knew well that if I spared Irene I
condemned myself and those who were more to me than myself, my wife, my
children, and all the Northmen who clung to me, and who would not see me
die without blow struck. I understood it all, and, understanding, of a
sudden made up my mind--to spare Irene. Come what might, I would be no
butcher; I would follow my heart whithersoever it might lead me.
“Cease, Madam,” I said. “I have decided. Jodd, bid the messenger summon
hither Heliodore and Martina, my wife and yours.”
“Oh!” exclaimed Irene, “if these women are to be called in counsel on
my case all is finished, seeing that both of them love you and are my
enemies. Moreover, I have some pride left. To you I could plead, but not
to them, though they blind me with their bodkins after they have stabbed
me with their tongues. Excellency, a last boon! Call in your guard and
kill me.”
“Madam, I said that I had decided, and all the women in the world will
not change my mind in this way or in that. Jodd, do my bidding.”
Jodd struck a bell, once only, which was the signal for the messenger.
He came and received his orders. Then followed a pause, since Heliodore
and Martina were in a place close by and must be sent for. During this
time Irene began to talk to me of sundry general matters. She compared
the view that might be seen from this house in Lesbos to that from the
terrace of her palace on the Bosphorus, and described its differences to
me. She asked me as to the Caliph Harun-al-Rashid, whom she understood
I had seen, inquiring as to the estimate I had formed of his character.
Lastly, with a laugh, she dwelt upon the strange vicissitudes of life.
“Look at me,” she said. “I began my days as the daughter of a Greek
gentleman, with no dower save my wit and beauty. Then I rose to be a
ruler of the world, and knew all that it has to give of pomp and power.
Nations trembled at my nod; at my smile men grew great; at my frown they
faded into nothingness. Save you, Olaf, none ever really conquered me,
until I fell in the appointed hour. And now! Of this splendour there is
left but a nun’s robe; of this countless wealth but one silver crucifix;
of this power--naught.”
So she spoke on, still not knowing to what decision I had come; whether
she were to be blinded or to live or die. To myself I thought it was a
proof of her greatness that she could thus turn her mind to such things
while Fate hovered over her, its hand upon a sword. But it may be that
she thought thus to impress me and to enmesh me in memories which would
tie my hands, or even from the character of my answers to draw some
augury of her doom.
The women came at length. Heliodore entered first, and to her Irene
bowed.
“Greeting, Lady of Egypt,” she said. “Ah! had you taken my counsel in
the past, that title might have been yours in very truth, and there you
and your husband could have founded a new line of kings independent of
the Empire which totters to its fall.”
“I remember no such counsel, Madam,” said Heliodore. “It seems to me
that the course I took was right and one pleasing to God, since it has
given me my husband for myself, although, it is true, wickedly robbed of
his eyes.”
“For yourself! Can you say so while Martina is always at his side?” she
asked in a musing voice. “Well, it may be, for in this world strange
things happen.”
She paused, and I heard both Heliodore and Jodd move as though in anger,
for her bitter shaft had gone home. Then she went on softly,
“Lady, may I tell you that, in my judgment, your beauty is even greater
than it was, though it is true it has grown from bud to flower. Few bear
their years and a mother’s burdens so lightly in these hot lands.”
Heliodore did not answer, for at that moment Martina entered. Seeing
Irene for the first time, she forgot everything that had passed and
curtseyed to her in the old fashion, murmuring the familiar words,
“Thy servant greets thee, Augusta.”
“Nay, use not that title, Martina, to one who has done with the world
and its vanities. Call me ‘Mother’ if you will, for that is the only
name of honour by which those of my religious order may be known. In
truth, as your mother in God, I welcome you and bless you, from my heart
forgiving you those ills which you have worked against me, being, as
I know well, driven by a love that is greater than any woman bears to
woman. But that eating fire of passion scorned is the heritage of both
of us, and of it we will talk afterwards. I must not waste the time of
the General Olaf, whom destiny, in return for many griefs, has appointed
to be my jailer. Oh! Olaf,” she added with a little laugh, “some
foresight of the future must have taught me to train you for the post.
Let us then be silent, ladies, and listen to the judgment which this
jailer of mine is about to pass upon me. Do you know it is no less than
whether these eyes of mine, which you were wont to praise, Martina,
which in his lighter moments even this stern Olaf was wont to praise,
should be torn from beneath my brow, and if so, whether it should be
done in such a fashion that I die of the deed? That and no less is the
matter which his lips must settle. Now speak, Excellency.”
“Madam,” I said slowly, “to the best of my wit I have considered the
letter sent to me under the seal and sign of the Emperor Nicephorus.
Although it might be so interpreted by some, I cannot find in that
letter any direct command that I should cause you to be blinded, but
only one that I should keep you under strict guard, giving you such
things as are necessary to your sustenance. This then I shall do, and by
the first ship make report of my action to the Emperor at Byzantium.”
Now, when she heard these words, at length the proud spirit of Irene
broke.
“God reward you, for I cannot, Olaf,” she cried. “God reward you, saint
among men, who can pay back cruel injuries with the gentlest mercy.”
So saying, she burst into tears and fell senseless to the ground.
Martina ran to aid her, but Heliodore turned to me and said in her
tender voice,
“This is worthy of you, Olaf, and I would not have you do otherwise.
Yet, husband, I fear that this pity of yours has signed the
death-warrant of us all.”
So it proved to be, though, as it chanced, that warrant was never
executed. I made my report to Byzantium, and in course of time the
answer came in a letter from the Emperor. This letter coldly approved
of my act in set and formal phrases. It added that the truth had been
conveyed publicly to those slanderers of the Emperor who announced that
he had caused Irene to be first blinded and then put to death in Lesbos,
whereby their evil tongues had been silenced.
Then came this pregnant sentence:
“We command you, with your wife and children and your lieutenant, the
Captain Jodd, with his wife and children, to lay down your offices and
report yourselves with all speed to Us at our Court of Byzantium, that
we may confer with you on certain matters. If it is not convenient to
you, or you can find no fitting ship in which to sail at once, know that
within a month of your receipt of this letter our fleet will call at
Lesbos and bring you and the others herein mentioned to our Presence.”
“That is a death sentence,” said Martina, when she had finished reading
out this passage. “I have seen several such sent in my day, when I was
Irene’s confidential lady. It is the common form. We shall never reach
Byzantium, Olaf, or, if we do, we shall never leave it more.”
I nodded, for I knew that this was so. Then, at some whispered word from
Martina, Heliodore spoke.
“Husband,” she said, “foreseeing this issue, Martina, Jodd, and most of
the Northmen and I have made a plan which we now submit to you, praying
that for our sakes, if not for yours, you will not thrust it aside.
We have bought two good ships, armed them and furnished them with all
things needful. Moreover, during the past two months we have sold much
of our property, turning it into gold. This is our plan--that we pretend
to obey the order of the Emperor, but instead of heading for Byzantium,
sail away north to the land in which you were born, where, having rank
and possessions, you may still become a mighty chief. If we go at once
we shall miss the Imperial fleet, and I think that none will follow us.”
Now I bowed my head for a while and thought. Then I lifted it and said,
“So let it be. No other road is open.”
For my own sake I would not have stirred an inch. I would have gone to
the Court of the Emperor at Byzantium and there argued out the thing in
a gambler’s spirit, prepared to win or prepared to lose. There at least
I should have had all the image-worshippers who adored Irene, that is,
the full half of the Empire, upon my side, and if I perished, I should
perish as a saint. But a wife and children are the most terrible gifts
of God, if the most blessed, for they turn our hearts to water. So, for
the first time in my life, I grew afraid, and, for their sakes, fled.
As might be expected, having Martina’s brains, Heliodore’s love, and the
Northmen’s loyalty at the back of it, our plan went well. A letter was
sent to the Emperor saying that we would await the arrival of the fleet
to obey his commands, having some private matters to arrange before we
left Lesbos. Then, on a certain evening, we embarked on two great ships,
about four hundred souls in all.
Before we went I bade farewell to Irene. She was seated outside the
house that had been given to her, employed in spinning, for it was her
fancy to earn the bread she ate by the labour of her hands. Round
her were playing Jodd’s children and my own, whom, in order to escape
suspicion, we had sent thither till the time came for us to embark,
since the people of Lesbos only knew of our scheme by rumour.
“Whither do you go, Olaf?” she asked.
“Back to the North, whence I came, Madam,” I answered, “to save the
lives of these,” and I waved my hand towards the children. “If I bide
here all must die. We have been sent for to Byzantium, as I think _you_
were wont to send for officers who had ceased to please you.”
“I understand, Olaf; moreover, I know it is I who have brought this
trouble upon you because you spared me, whom it was meant that you
should kill. Also I know, through friends of mine, that henceforth, for
reasons of policy, my little end of life is safe, and perhaps with it my
sight. All this I owe to you, though now at times I regret that I asked
the boon. From the lot of an Empress to that of a spinning-wife is a
great change, and one which I find it hard to bear. Still, I have my
peace to make with God, and towards that peace I strive. Yet will you
not take me with you, Olaf? I should like to found a nunnery in that
cold North of yours.”
“No, Augusta. I have done my best by you, and now you must guard
yourself. We part for ever. I go hence to finish where I began. My
birthplace calls me.”
“For ever is a long word, Olaf. Are you sure that we part for ever?
Perchance we shall meet again in death or in other lives. Such, at
least, was the belief of some of the wisest of my people before we
became Christian, and mayhap the Christians do not know everything,
since the world had learnt much before they came. I hope that it may
be so, Olaf, for I owe you a great debt and would repay it to you full
measure, pressed down and running over. Farewell. Take with you the
blessing of a sinful and a broken heart,” and, rising, she kissed me on
the brow.
Here ends the story of this life of mine as Olaf Red-Sword, since of
it I can recover no more. The darkness drops. Of what befell me and
the others after my parting with Irene I know nothing or very little.
Doubtless we sailed away north, and, I think, came safely to Aar, since
I have faint visions of Iduna the Fair grown old, but still unwed, for
the stain of Steinar’s blood, as it were, still marked her brow in all
men’s eyes; and even of Freydisa, white-haired and noble-looking. How
did we meet and how did we separate at last, I wonder? And what were the
fates of Heliodore and of our children; of Martina and of Jodd? Also,
was the prophecy of Odin, spoken through the lips of Freydisa in the
temple at Aar, that he and his fellow gods, or demons, would prevail
against my flesh and that of those who clung to me, fulfilled at last in
the fires of martyrdom for the Faith, as his promise of my happiness was
fulfilled?
I cannot tell. I cannot tell. Darkness entombs us all and history is
dumb.
At Aar there are many graves! Standing among them, not so long ago, much
of this history came back to me.