CHIOS THE GREEK
Day after day passed in festive manner until half the Month of Joy had
sped, still Chios had not heard from the wise man. Where was he? Had he
forgotten his promise? Was it all a dream? or was it, as he thought, a
visitation from heaven, one of the gods on earth? Neither. He was
confident he had met a human being, a man more powerful than any he had
ever met before. There was but one other spirit like him, and that one
dwelt in the form of a woman, and her name was Saronia.
To Chios both spirits appeared of the highest order, showing different
phases, both giants in their faiths; one he loved, the other he somewhat
feared, for he knew not what that strange man would tell to him, and
Chios was like a ship on the stormy seas, tossed to and fro without sail
or rudder to guide him. So he said, 'I will go to the Temple; there is
worship at this hour.' As he moved slowly onwards Saronia passed him.
Their eyes met, but she dared not speak.
The Greek felt all the old love revive the moment he beheld the
beautiful girl. Moreover, he thought he read on her face the blush of a
hidden love. What should he do? To go now to the Temple where she had
entered would be useless, for his thoughts, his mind, his whole soul had
gone out again to her, and he could worship no other deity, even were
damnation the penalty. He would return to his studio, to his work on his
great picture--the picture of his love, of the one being who haunted his
life, of Saronia as High Priestess of Diana.
Oh, if he could speak to her; could draw near and drink deeply of those
mysterious eyes! Even that might pacify him. How could it be done? He
had influence in the city; he would use it. Could he not obtain entrance
to the Sacred Grove?--for there he knew she nightly went to pay her vows
on the altar of the Infernal Goddess. Yes, his mind was fully made up.
He would find the hour she frequented the place, would hazard his life
to speak with her, and if but one sentence came from those lips he would
be satisfied, even if those words were the curse of Hecate.
On the way to the studio, and just as he was about to enter the
gateway, he saw a woman leaning against a pillar. She addressed him,
asking for alms. He replied:
'What dost thou here, woman? Why not take part in this day of joy?'
She said:
'My heart cannot feel joy. It is dead; it is incapable of throbbing to
the pleasure of the world or the joy of religion.'
'Why?'
'Because I am an outcast; my sins are so great that I dare not pray. I
am past feeling, and would die.'
'Art thou in such a state?'
'Yea, and worse: I am let alone by the gods and man.'
'Thou art, then, a wandering star?'
'Yes, thou sayest truly, for I shall soon shoot into the darkness of the
unknown and be for ever lost.'
'Hast thou no occupation?'
'None.'
'Canst thou do anything to earn an honest livelihood?'
'I am skilled in magic, having learnt it in my youth; but the art is so
common in Ephesus that my gains are very small.'
'Come, now, canst thou read my fate for a piece of gold?'
'I know thee.'
'Who am I?'
'He whom they call Chios the Greek, the Ephesian artist, and----'
'Go on, woman, do not fear!'
'The lover of Saronia.'
'Thou art mad.'
'No. Would that I had been born such!'
'How dost thou know my name?'
'Know thy name! I inquired for it after thou didst take away the slave
girl Saronia, when she leant against the pillar outside the great
theatre, waiting the bidding of her haughty mistress Nika. My curse rest
on Nika!'
'Silence! Curse her not.'
'Say on, Chios: what dost thou want of me?'
'Nothing.'
'Then pass thy way and leave me as thou didst find me, unless thou, too,
would whip me like a cur for resting against thy piece of marble.'
'Nay, woman; I will not go until I help thee. Here is a golden
piece--another and another. Take them all; I have more. Go thou and get
food, and hope on. Thou art earth's side of the great threshold, and may
yet do well with the remnant of thy life.'
'No, no; I know the faith. Thou art wrong. The cursed of Hecate are
doomed!'
'Listen, woman! Thou knowest Saronia?'
'Ah! ah! Thou canst not leave that name. I knew I was right. Thou lovest
her?'
'Silence, I tell thee again! Thou art more profane than I imagined.
Think you I am perilous enough to venture the curse of hell by daring to
love a priestess of Hecate?'
'Yes. Thou art of the mould to dare anything for love. Not only to risk
the curse of hell, but to wear it as thou wearest that ribbon around thy
neck, the ribbon which suspends the silver shrine Saronia placed upon
thy breast when thou didst slumber as the dead.'
'Witch as thou art, how dost thou know of this?'
'Magic does not aid me in this case. I saw her do it.'
'Saw Saronia--do--it?'
'Yes, I saw her.'
'Thou liest; it is thy dreadful sorcery!'
'Nay, nay, not so. I saw her enter thy gateway to escape a band of
drunken ruffians. I stood by this very pillar where I often stand. I
knew Saronia, and followed to protect, if needs be, and hid behind the
myrtle-trees until she entered. Then I gazed within, saw her bend over
thy sleeping form and put her sweet face close to thine, saw her take
the trinket from her bosom, kiss it, and place it on thy breast. Then
again did she stoop over, and drank in one long draught of thy
breath--thy life, as if to mingle soul with soul.'
'Hast thou spoken of this to any other?'
'No.'
'Darest thou?'
'I will not.'
'And why so true?'
'Because if ever the fire is lit again within this wreck it will be she
who will kindle the first spark.'
'How thinkest thou so?'
'It was I who befriended her, pointing the way when she fled from the
house of Venusta. Besides, I met her before that, near the great
theatre; there I read her fate, and told her her star was rising full of
splendour. Besides, I love her as much as I can, and have begged of her
to think of this poor hag when she cometh into great power--and she
shall! Yes, she shall rise higher and higher, for the great spirit of
the goddess leads her. Hear what Endora says: "Saronia's star is still
in the ascendant. She has been priestess of spirits before this
earth-life, and she shall rise to be queen of the priestesses
here--first amongst women who serve the great goddess at the shrine of
Artemis."'
'Art thou sure?'
'I know it.'
'By what?'
'By my power, which never fails. Would Chios know further?'
'No; but, stay, dost thou think Saronia is past loving other than the
goddess?'
'I tell thee she loves Chios, and thou knowest it as well as I. She
cannot rend the chain which binds ye twain together. The position is
perilous in the extreme. Thou knowest she is bound to chastity, and
wouldst thou try to break her sacred vows?'
'No; Heaven stay the thought! This I swear; but--can I trust thee?'
'Yes, Chios, thou art safe. Thy spirit comes towards me, but it cannot
blend with mine, and for want of this thou mayest mistrust the need of
perfect sympathy. But thou art good; I am dark and foul as Tartarus!
Evil and good cannot make one unbroken circle of harmony. Nevertheless,
trust me, Chios--trust me.'
'Very well, I will. At what hour does Saronia visit the Sacred Grove of
Hecate to offer sacrifice?'
'This very night at midnight.'
'Are there means of access to that grove?'
'Yes, for those who dare, but few would.'
'Which is the way?'
'Go thou to the wood outside the Temple, pass a furlong to the north;
there is a low wall which thou canst easily vault. Once within the
sacred enclosure, push on westward another furlong, and thou wilt see
the Hecatesium, the little temple shaded with gigantic pines and
cypress-trees. Yellow iris stud the ground, and crimson and white
oleander grow between. Heed not the mighty thunderings proceeding from
the temple, or the livid, glare-like lightning's flash springing forth
between the pillars of the portico--on swiftly by it, lest thy heart
faileth and thou diest. Having passed this temple, take the winding road
at its rear. This will bring thee to where three roads meet, and there
thou wilt see, by the light of the waning moon and the flickering stars,
an altar, and, rising above it, the three-figured statue of the Triple
Goddess. She, as Hecate, holding in her hands the keys of hell and of
death, facing the pit in which the altar is reared for to-night's
incantations and sacrifice. Secrete thyself before midnight behind the
base of one of the tall trees. Thou wilt not have long to wait ere the
light of a torch will stream upon the dark green foliage and a woman's
form will appear, and, later, as she approaches, dark tresses waving in
the breeze, and, if light enough, two eyes like stars of night,
o'ershadowed by eyebrows like cloudlets of gloom. Those are the eyes of
Saronia, the priestess of Hecate. Darest thou to be there and speak to
her? I think not. Weigh well thy intentions, Chios, before setting out
on such an awful journey. Let me entreat thee, good man; let me beg of
thee--forswear this enterprise!'
'Farewell, Endora--that is thy name, is it not?'
'Yes, my lord.'
'Farewell, Endora--farewell. Keep the secret, as thou hast said.'
'I will, and perchance some power may save thee from the vengeance of
earth and hell.'