When Ledscha heard the strokes of the oars she stopped again and, with
glowing cheeks, gazed after the boat and the glimmering silver furrow
which it left upon the calm surface of the moonlit water.
Her heart was heavy. The doubts of her lover's sincerity which the slave
had awakened tortured her proud soul.
Was Hermon really only trifling mischievously with her affection?
Surely it was impossible.
She would rather endure everything, everything, than this torturing
uncertainty.
Yet she was here on the Owl's Nest to seek the aid of old Tabus's magic
arts. If any one could give her satisfaction, it was she and the demons
who obeyed her will, and the old woman was glad to oblige Ledscha; she
was bound to her by closer ties than most people in Tennis knew.
Ledscha had no cause to be ashamed of her frequent visits to the Owl's
Nest, for old Tabus had no equal as a leech and a prophetess, and the
corsair family, of which she was the female head, stood in high repute
among the Biamites. People bore them no ill-will because they practised
piracy; many of their race pursued the same calling, and the sailors made
common cause with them.
Ledscha's father, too, was on good terms with the pirates, and when Abus,
a handsome fellow who commanded his father's second ship and had won a
certain degree of renown by many a bold deed, sought the hand of his
oldest daughter, he did not refuse him, and only imposed the condition
that when he had gained riches enough and made Ledscha his wife, he would
cease his piratical pursuits and, in partnership with him, take goods and
slaves from Pontus to the Syrian and Egyptian harbours, and grain and
textiles from the Nile to the coasts of the Black Sea.
Young Abus had yielded to this demand, since his grandmother on the Owl's
Nest thought it wise to delay for a time the girl's marriage to him, the
best beloved of her grandsons; she was then scarcely beyond childhood.
Yet Ledscha had felt a strong affection for the young pirate, in whom she
saw the embodiment of heroic manhood. She accompanied him in imagination
through all his perilous expeditions; but she had been permitted to enjoy
his society only after long intervals for a few days.
Once he remained absent longer than usual, and this very voyage was to
have been his last on a pirate craft--the peaceful seafaring life was to
begin, after his landing, with the marriage.
Ledscha had expected her lover's return with eager longing, but week
after week elapsed, yet nothing was seen or heard of the ships owned by
the Owl's Nest family; then a rumour spread that this time the corsairs
were defeated in a battle with the Syrian war-galleys.
The first person who received sure tidings was old Tabus. Her grandson
Hanno, who escaped with his life, at the bidding of his father Satabus,
who revered his mother, had made his way to her amid great perils to
convey the sorrowful news. Two of the best ships in the family had been
sunk, and on one the brave Abus, Ledscha's betrothed husband, who
commanded it, had lost his life; on the other the aged dame's oldest son
and three of her grandchildren.
Tabus fell as if struck by lightning when she heard the tidings, and
since that time her tongue had lost its power of fluent speech, her ear
its sharpness; but Ledscha did not leave her side, and saved her life by
tireless, faithful nursing.
Neither Satabus, the old woman's second son, who now commanded the little
pirate fleet, nor his sons, Hanno and Labaja, had been seen in the
neighbourhood of Tennis since the disaster, but after Tabus had recovered
sufficiently to provide for herself, Ledscha returned to Tennis to manage
her father's great household and supply the mother's place to her younger
sister, Taus.
She had not recovered the careless cheerfulness of earlier years, but,
graver than the companions of her own age, she absented herself from the
gaieties of the Biamite maidens. Meanwhile her beauty had increased
wonderfully, and, attracting attention far and wide, drew many suitors
from neighbouring towns to Tennis. Only a few, however, had made offers
of marriage to her father; the beautiful girl's cold, repellent manner
disheartened them. She herself desired nothing better; yet it secretly
incensed her and pierced her soul with pain to see herself at twenty
unwedded, while far less attractive companions of her own age had long
been wives and mothers.
The arduous task which she had performed a short time before for her
widowed sister had increased the seriousness of her disposition to sullen
moroseness.
After her return home she often rowed to the Owl's Nest, for Ledscha felt
bound to old Tabus, and, so far as lay in her power, under obligation to
atone for the injury which the horror of her lover's sudden death had
inflicted upon his grandmother.
Now she had at last been subjugated by a new passion--love for the Greek
sculptor Hermon, who did his best to win the heart of the Biamite girl,
whose austere, extremely singular beauty attracted his artist eyes.
To-day Ledscha had come to the sorceress to learn from her what awaited
her and her love. She had landed on the island, sure of favourable
predictions, but now her hopes lay as if crushed by hailstones.
If Bias, who was superior to an ordinary slave, was right, she was to be
degraded to a toy and useful tool by the man who had already proved his
pernicious power over other women of her race, even her own young sister,
whom she had hitherto guarded with faithful care. It had by no means
escaped her notice that the girl was concealing something from her,
though she did not perceive the true cause of the change.
The bright moonbeams, which now wove a silvery web over every surrounding
object, seemed like a mockery of her darkened soul.
If the demons of the heights and depths had been subject to her, as to
the aged enchantress she would have commanded them to cover the heavens
with black clouds. Now they must show her what she had to hope or to
fear.
She shook her head slightly, as if she no longer believed in a favourable
turn of affairs, pushed the little curls which had escaped from the
wealth of her black hair back from her forehead with her slender hand,
and walked firmly to the house.
The old dame was crouching beside the hearth in the middle room, turning
the metal spit, on which she had put the ducks, over the freshly kindled
fire.
The smoke hurt her eyes, which were slightly inflamed, yet they seemed to
serve their purpose better than her half-dulled ear, for, after a swift
glance at Ledscha, she stammered in her faltering speech: "What has
happened? Nothing good, certainly. It is written on your face."
The girl nodded assent, pointed with a significant gesture to her eyes
and the open air, and went down to the shore again to convince herself
that no other vessel was approaching.
What she had to confide to Tabus was intended for her alone, and
experience taught how far spoken words could be heard at night over the
water.
When she had returned to the hut, she bent down to the old woman's ear
and, holding her curved hand to her lips, cried, "He is not coming!"
Tabus shrugged her shoulders, and the smile of satisfaction which flitted
over her brown, wrinkled face showed that the news was welcome.
For her murdered grandson's sake the girl's confession that she had given
her heart to a Greek affected her painfully; but Tabus also had something
else on her mind for her beautiful darling.
Now she only intimated by a silent nod that she understood Ledscha, and
her head remained constantly in motion as the latter continued: "True, I
shall see him again to-morrow, but when we part, it will hardly be in
love. At any rate--do you hear, grandmother?--to-morrow must decide
everything. Therefore--do you understand me?--you must question the
cords now, to-night, for to-morrow evening what they advised might be
too late."
"Now?" repeated Tabus in surprise, letting her gaze rest inquiringly upon
the girl. Then she took the spit from the fire, exclaiming angrily:
"Directly, do you mean? As if that could be! As if the stars obeyed us
mortals like maids or men servants! The moon must be at the full to
learn the truth from the cords. Wait, child! What is life but waiting?
Only have patience, girl! True, few know how to practise this art at
your age, and it is alien to many all their lives. But the stars! From
them, the least and the greatest, man can learn to go his way patiently,
year by year. Always the same course and the same pace. No deviation
even one hair's breadth, no swifter or slower movement for the unresting
wanderers. No sudden wrath, no ardent desire, no weariness or aversion
urges or delays them. How I love and honour them! They willingly submit
to the great law until the end of all things. What they appoint for this
hour is for it alone, not for the next one. Everything in the vast
universe is connected with them. Whoever should delay their course a
moment would make the earth reel. Night would become day, the rivers
would return to their sources. People would walk on their heads instead
of their feet, joy would be transformed to sorrow and power to servitude.
Therefore, child, the full moon has a different effect from the waxing or
waning one during the other twenty-nine nights of the month. To ask of
one what belongs to another is to expect an answer from the foreigner who
does not understand your language. How young you are, child, and how
foolish! To question the cords for you in the moonlight now is to expect
to gather grapes from thorns. Take my word for that!"
Here she interrupted the words uttered with so much difficulty, and with
her blackish-blue cotton dress wiped her perspiring face, strangely
flushed by the exertion and the firelight.
Ledscha had listened with increasing disappointment.
The wise old dame was doubtless right, yet before she ventured to the
sculptor's workshop the next day she must know at every cost how matters
stood, what she had to fear or to hope from him; so after a brief silence
she ventured to ask the question, "But are there only the stars and the
cords which predict what fate holds in store for one who is so nearly
allied to you?"
"No, child, no," was the reply. "But nothing can be clone about looking
into the future now. It requires rigid fasting from early dawn, and I
ate the dates you brought me. I inhaled the odor of the roasting ducks,
too, and then--it must be done at midnight; and at midnight your people
will be anxious if you are not at home by that time, or perhaps send a
slave to seek you here at my house, and that--that must not be done--I
must prevent it."
"So you are expecting some one," Ledscha eagerly replied. "And I know
who it is. Your son Satabus, or one of your grandsons. Else why are the
ducks cooked? And for what is the wine jar which I just took from its
hiding place?"
A vehement gesture of denial from Tabus contradicted the girl's
conjecture; but directly after she scanned her with a keen, searching
glance, and said: "No, no. We have nothing to fear from you, surely.
Poor Abus! Through him you will always belong to us. In spite of the
Greek, ours you are and ours you will remain. The stars confirm it, and
you have always been faithful to the old woman. You are shrewd and
steadfast. You would have been the right mate for him who was also wise
and firm. Poor, dear, brave boy! But why pity him? Because the salt
waves now flow over him? Fools that we are! There is nothing better
than death, for it is peace. And almost all of them have found it. Of
nine sons and twenty grandsons, only three are left. The others are all
calm after so much conflict and danger. How long ago it is since seven
perished at once! The last three their turn will come too. How I envy
them that best of blessings, only may they not also go before me!"
Here she lowered her voice, and in a scarcely audible whisper murmured:
"You shall know it. My son Satabus, with his brave boys Hanno and
Labaja, are coming later in the evening. About midnight--if ye protect
them, ye powers above--they will be with me. And you, child, I know your
soul to its inmost depths. Before you would betray the last of Abus's
kindred--"
"My hand and tongue should wither!" Ledscha passionately interrupted, and
then, with zealous feminine solicitude, she asked whether the three ducks
would suffice to satisfy the hunger of these strong men.
The old woman smiled and pointed to a pile of fresh leaves heaped one
above another, beneath which lay several fine shad. They were not to be
cooked until the expected visitors arrived, and she had plenty of bread
besides.
In the presence of these proofs of maternal solicitude the morose,
wrinkled countenance of the old sorceress wore a kind, almost tender
expression, and the light of joyous anticipation beamed upon her young
guest from her redrimmed eyes.
"I am to see them once more!" cried Tabus in an agitated tone. "The
last--and all three, all! If they-- But no; they will not set to work
so near Pelusium. No, no! They will not, lest they should spoil the
meeting with the old woman. Oh, they are kind; no one knows how kind my
rough Satabus can be. He would be your father now, girl, if we could
have kept our Abus--he was the best of all--longer. It is fortunate that
you are here, for they must see you, and it would have been hard for me
to fetch the other things: the salt, the Indian pepper, and the jug of
Pelusinian zythus, which Satabus is always so fond of drinking."
Then Ledscha went into the ruinous left wing of the house, where she took
from a covered hole in the floor what the old woman had kept for the last
of her race, and she performed her task gladly and with rare skill.
Next she prepared the fish and the pan, and while her hands were moving
busily she earnestly entreated the old woman to gratify her wish and look
into the future for her.
Tabus, however, persisted in her refusal, until Ledscha again called her
"grandmother," and entreated her, by the heads of the three beloved ones
whom she expected, to fulfil her desire.
Then the old dame rose, and while the girl, panting for breath, took the
roasted ducks from the spit, the former, with her own trembling hands,
drew from the little chest which she kept concealed behind a heap of dry
reeds, branches, and straw, a shining copper dish, tossed the gold coins
which had been in it back into the box, and moistened the bottom with the
blackish-red juice of the grape from the wine jar.
After carefully making these preparations she called Ledscha and repeated
that the cords possessed the power of prophecy only on nights when the
moon was full, and that she would use another means of looking into the
future.
Then she commanded the girl to let her hands rest now and to think of
nothing except the questions whose answer she had at heart. Lastly, she
muttered into the vessel a series of incantations, which Ledscha repeated
after her, and gazed as if spellbound at the dark liquid which covered
the bottom.
The girl, panting for breath, watched every movement of the sorceress,
but some time elapsed ere the latter suddenly exclaimed, "There he is!"
and then, without removing her eyes from the bottom of the vessel, she
went on, with faltering accents, as though she was describing a scene
close before her eyes. "Two young men-both Greeks, if the dress does not
deceive--one is at your right hand, the other at your left. The former
is fair-haired; the glance of his eyes is deep and constant. It is he, I
think--But no! His image is fading, and you are turning your back upon
him. You do it intentionally. No, no, you two are not destined for each
other. You think of the one with the waving black hair and beard--of him
alone. He is growing more and more distinct--a handsome man, and how his
brow shines! Yet his glance--it sees more than that of many others, but,
like the rest of his nature, it lacks steadfastness."
Here she paused, raised her shaking head, looked at Ledscha's flushed
face, and in a grave, warning tone, said: "Many signs of happiness, but
also many dark shadows and black spots. If he is the one, child, you
must be on your guard."
"He is," murmured the girl softly, as if speaking to herself.
But the deaf old crone had read the words from her lips, and while gazing
intently at the wine, went on impatiently: "If the picture would only
grow more distinct! As it was, so it has remained. And now! The image
of the fair man with the deep-blue eyes melts away entirely, and a gray
cloud flutters between you and the other one with the black beard. If it
would only scatter! But we shall never make any progress in this way.
Now pay attention, girl."
The words had an imperious tone, and with outstretched head and throbbing
heart Ledscha awaited the old woman's further commands.
They came at once and ordered her to confess, as freely and openly as
though she was talking to herself, where she had met the man whom she
loved, how he had succeeded in snaring her heart, and how he repaid her
for the passion which he had awakened.
These commands were so confused and mingled in utterance that any one
less familiar with the speaker would scarcely have comprehended what they
required of her, but Ledscha understood and was ready to obey.