NIKA
'He is away, my lord and master, my wedded husband, the Proconsul of
Ephesus. Gone to Rome on State matters. Let him go! There are other
Romans here as good as he, perhaps better. I shall mix with them, and,
doing so, further hate the man I am tied to, sold to. I hate him! There
is but one love in my heart--the love for Chios, who spurns it. Stay! I
wonder if there be another beside Chios who may quench this flame
devouring me? There may be. And this I determine, wherever I find love
in unison, thither will I advance, and that immediately before Varro's
return. Varro! Varro! what care I for Varro? I will deceive him if it
pleases me. The world will call me vile if they discover. What care I
for the world? What care I for the worms which crawl? Many worse than
Nika. No, what cares Nika, accursed of Hecate? Take thy pleasure; to
love is life, and union of souls is strength even if we be but two--'tis
better than one against the hosts of hell! Nika is single-handed; Nika
has no kindred soul to join in the fight--Nika the doomed one, against
whom the Fates war, around whom the Furies rage. Arouse thyself! Set thy
face against what is called goodness, chastity! Defy those
principalities and powers which torture thee, laugh at thee, shatter thy
hopes, damn thee for the next life, before thou puttest aside the vile
clay of this, make sport of thy soul ere half the circle of thy days is
spent!
'No, no! Enough, enough! I will fill my cup with every pleasure, if well
deep enough be found. I will joy in the sunshine, if it be but for one
day, like the many-coloured lily which opens to the morning sun and dies
at eventide. Away, Nika, to the world of pleasure! But first drink deep
of Grecian wine to brace thyself. What care I for peace? I shall be no
worse than many of my Romans.'
* * * * *
The sun went down like an angry god, the west was ablaze with lurid
gleam, the winds rushed in from the sea and smote the land, burying it
with a shroud of foam. The rain descended in torrents and deluged the
shore. The storm passed through the great city and away over the
mountain-tops. The streets were deserted and a gloom rested on the land.
One solitary human being might have been seen winding her way from place
to place, and up the mountain side towards the home of Nika. With wet
and clinging garments she hesitated in front of the house. Watching an
opportunity, she pushed through the hedgerow of myrtles and stood within
the garden. Stealthily she crept from shrub to shrub, now under the
shelter of a laurel, then tearing through a mass of roses and trampling
under feet the loveliest flowers, scarcely knowing whither she went, but
making for a light which filtered through a window of many-coloured
glass, until at last she stood in front of it, and dimly saw the
overhanging jasmine and the great, white flowers of the magnolia. For a
moment the perfume, like an angel guardian, uttered protest and dared
approach, but the spirit impelling that form enveloped in soaking garb
was one not long to be brooked by sentiment, and she moved like a
panther carefully forward, and peered through the casement left open to
admit the perfumed air. She gazed anxiously through the opening, and saw
the form of the beautiful Nika sitting on a low chair. The double tablet
of wax lay upon her knees, and in her hand was an ivory point chased
with diamonds. She had just written, and was evidently agitated.
At the sight of this the soul of the woman without was moved to its very
depths, and she longed to behold what was marked on the tablet. The
divining power of her spirit asserted itself, and she knew by the
writer's look that it was a message of importance, and probably one of
love. She waited till Nika had finished it; then the Roman stretched out
her white arms and flung herself back in a deep reverie.
The eyes of the witch Endora were directed steadily on her, and as she
gazed, Nika fell asleep, and her hands drooped listlessly by her side.
Like a snake, Endora glided into the room, reached the sleeping Roman,
then, gently raising the tablet from her knee, she moved as softly and
serpent-like from the room, and stole back by the way she came--back
through the deserted streets, up the hill Pion to her cave.
* * * * *
Once inside, she bolted the rough door, through the chinks of which the
wind moaned.
Lighting her lamp, she stripped off her saturated clothes. Before even
she kindled a fire, she drew out the stolen thing, and, with straining
eyes, read its contents. Then a hellish satisfaction lit up her haggard
face, and she laughed with fiendish glee, murmuring to herself, fearful
of listening ears:
'Ha, ha, ha! My mistress Nika, thou hast a lover. Thou art safe now in
the meshes of the fowler. The measure thou hast meted out to others
shall be measured back to thee again--again, I say. And the house of
Venusta shall sorrow, as they say the Egyptians did for their
first-born. Not only shall they suffer on thine account; their own sins
shall weigh mightily on them. Yea, root and branch shall suffer, and
they shall wither away until not a footfall of theirs be heard, nor an
echo of their voices resound through their marble home. The witch
Endora, like a Cassandra, smells the past, and speaks of evil.
'Day after day, night after night, have I been on the trail, tracked her
like a bloodhound, haunted her to earth. I lie not; she is worse than I!
The Roman shall know all, and Saronia, whom she tortured, be avenged. If
her soul is too kind to feed upon such a rare morsel, then the witch of
Ephesus--I, Endora--will do so, and gloat over the fate of Nika, proud,
despicable daughter of Lucius the Roman! Now let me breathe the air; the
stormy air, the sunlight, and the breeze belong to me as much as to the
good.'