PAYING THEIR VOWS
From morn to eve great songs of praise and adoration went up before the
shrine of Diana, and soft music echoed through the great Temple,
sometimes swelling like the martial notes of the Persian hosts when they
marched through the vales of Ionia to Abydos, and then sweet melodies
sank back into the faintest strains, like a weeping lute or the sighs of
a broken heart.
Those plaintive sounds suited one spirit, and that one was the
storm-clad soul of Saronia. She had seen her old master on his arrival
at Ephesus; he had done her no harm, and her heart went out towards him
that she might speak and thank him for his kindness. After all, she had
the true instinct of a woman, and must love something: she loved the
goddess, but she had a spiritual and a human existence, and both must
love. True, her nature was somewhat seared, battling as she had done for
existence. There was a time when a kiss, a simple kiss, would have
thrilled her very soul; but that was long ago. Since those happy times
she had hardened herself against the world--the cold, selfish world made
her so. But a nature with true instinctive love cannot long remain in
such a state when conditions change; and now Saronia was coming to her
former self, removed from the world and surrounded by those who really
loved her. Her heart softened, and she felt a keen affection for Lucius.
There were but two men in the teeming millions of the world she cared
for; of those two, one had been passively kind, the other an active
friend. The latter was Chios, of whom she dared not think. No, she could
not even breathe a sigh o'er the remembrances of him, for fear a
smouldering dead past might break into a living flame. All this she
knew--knew it now when she had passed from death to life, when the night
had fled and the day dawned; so she conjured up a mighty gulf between
her and the Greek, a gulf over which she would not pass, neither could
he come unto her. But of Lucius she felt no fear, and this is the
distinction between friendship and love.
Lucius was to visit the Temple of Diana to render thanks for her
protecting grace to him whilst he had been battling with many storms;
and his mariners had promised a votive offering to the goddess when the
winds whistled through the cordage and the waves tossed their ship until
it reeled and staggered like a drunken man. And now they came to fulfil
their vows. This was not a vain show. Those sons of the ocean had warm
hearts, and would lay them there before the shrine. Neither did Lucius
desire pomp or show; he would come with his men and worship simply,
manly. So, when the sun was low and the winds were hushed, they drew
nigh and bowed before the altar, and, offering their libations,
whispered forth their prayers. Around the flower-strewn altar stood the
priests and priestesses. The chanting songs went upward in deep sonorous
rhythm, and as the sacred hymn died out in echoes through the columned
sanctuary, the toilers of the sea bent low and sang:
Thanks to Thee, O Lady Saviour.
Thanks to Thee, O great Dispenser.
Mercy have, and keep us lowly
In the hollow of Thine hand.
Hail! O hail! Thou mighty Mother.
Hail! Thou Giver of all good.
Mercy have and keep us lowly,
Ever bring us safe to Thee.
Then in deep unison priests and mariners joined in one grand anthem of
thanksgiving, and cheeks were wet with the tears of men whose sinews
were like iron, and whose hearts were proof against fear.
When they moved away, Lucius looked lovingly towards the shrine, and
beheld Saronia, with her robe of purest white, standing in bold relief
against the rich colour of the great veil which hid the statue of the
goddess from their view; and their eyes met, and from her came a look of
sweetest thanks, filling his soul with unfathomable calm, and he knew
their hearts were tuned in strange resemblance, and that the priestess
of Diana would offer prayer for him whether he dwelt in his lovely home
or paced the poop of his lofty ship when the gale grew loud and the
storm-birds flew.
For a while stillness reigned, and the priests and priestesses were
alone, singing their evening hymns; the great censor swung, and the
burning incense filled the Temple with odour. Then they passed through
the portals to their rest, and the Temple watchers stood at the gates
and kept guard within the Parabolus walls.
The dark eyes of Saronia were filled with tears of joy, for she had seen
Lucius; she was at peace, though the sun had set and the shadows fell.
And thus peace cometh to the mind of the tempest-tossed, but such a
being as Saronia could not long sustain it. Her soul was a spirit in
chase, pursuing something undefinable which she longed to obtain, that
she might be for ever satisfied and her measure of happiness complete. A
calm to her was like a summer day in winter-time, the harbinger of
coming storm.