We shall now, for a time, permit the title _Emir_ to lapse. The knight

we have seen on the deck of the new arrival in the Golden Horn viewing

with melancholy interest the cities on either side of the fairest

harbor on earth, is in easy English speech, _Count Corti_, the Italian.

Thus far the Count had been successful in his extraordinary mission,

yet he was not happy. He had made three discoveries during his

journey--his mother, his country, his religion. Ordinarily these

relations--if we may so call them--furnish men their greatest sum of

contentment; sadly for him, however, he had made a fourth finding, of

itself sufficient to dash all the others--in briefest term, he was not

in condition to acknowledge either of them. Unable to still the cry

heard while retiring from his father's ruined castle, he surrendered

himself more and more to the wisdom brought away from the box of the

Madonna and Child in the angle of the road to Brindisi--_God and Allah

are the same._ Conscience and a growing sense of misappropriated life

were making Count Corti a very different person from the light-hearted

Emir of Mahommed.

CHAPTER V

THE PRINCESS IRENE IN TOWN

An oblong room divided in the middle crosswise by two fluted pillars of

pink-stained marble, light, delicately capped, and very

graceful--between the pillars a segmental arch--between the walls and

the pillars square ties;--the wall above the pillars elaborately

scrolled;--three curtains of woollen stuff uniformly Tyrian dyed

filling the open places--the central curtain drawn to the pillars, and

held there by silken ropes richly tasselled--the side curtains

dropped;--a skylight for each division of the room, and under each

skylight an ample brazier dispensing a comfortable degree of

warmth;--floor laid in pink and saffron tiles;--chairs with and without

arms, some upholstered, all quaintly carved--to each chair a rug

harmoniously colored;--massive tables of carven wood, the tops of

burnished copper inlaid with blocks of jasper, mostly red and

yellow--on the tables murrhine pitchers vase-shaped, with crystal

drinking goblets about them;--the skylights conical and of clear

glass;--the walls panelled, a picture in every panel, and the raised

margins and the whole space outside done in arabesque of studied

involution;--doors opposite each other and bare;--such was the

reception-room in the town-house of the Princess Irene arranged for the

winter.

On an armless chair in one of the divisions of the beautiful room, the

Princess sat, slightly bending over a piece of embroidery stretched

upon a frame. What with the accessories about her--the chair, a small

table at her right covered with the bright materials in use, the

slanted frame, and a flexible lion's skin under her feet--she was a

picture once seen never forgotten. The wonderful setting of the head

and neck upon the Phidian shoulders was admirably complemented by the

long arms, bare, round, and of the whiteness of an almond kernel

freshly broken, the hands, blue-veined and dimpled, and the fingers,

tapering, pliant, nimble, rapid, each seemingly possessed of a separate

intelligence.

To the left of the Princess, a little removed, Lael half reclined

against a heap of cushions, pale, languid, and not wholly recovered

from the effects of the abduction by Demedes, the terrible doom which

had overtaken her father, and the disappearance of the Prince of India,

the latter unaccountable except upon the hypothesis of death in the

great fire. The dying prayer of the son of Jahdai had not failed with

the Princess Irene. Receiving the unfortunate girl from Sergius the day

after the rescue from the cistern, she accepted the guardianship, and

from that hour watched and tended her with maternal solicitude.

The other division of the room was occupied by attendants. They were

visible through the opening left by the drawn curtain; yet it is not to

be supposed they were under surveillance; on the contrary, their

presence in the house was purely voluntary. They read, sang, accepted

tasks in embroidery from their mistress, accompanied her abroad, loved

her--in a word, their service was in every respect compatible with high

rank, and in return they derived a certain education from her. For by

universal acknowledgment she was queen and arbiter in the social world

of Byzantium; in manner the mirror, in taste and fashion its very form.

Indeed, she was the subject of but one objection--her persistent

protest against the encumbrance of a veil.

With all her grave meditation, she never lectured her attendants,

knowing probably that sermons in example are more impressive than

sermons in words. In illustration of the freedom they enjoyed in her

presence and hearing, one of them, behind the curtain, touched a

stringed instrument--a cithern--and followed the prelude with a song of

Anacreontic vein.

THE GOLDEN NOON.

If my life were but a day--

One morn, one night,

With a golden noon for play,

And I, of right,

Could say what I would do

With it--what would I do?

Penance to me--e'en the stake,

And late or soon!--

Yet would Love remain to make

That golden noon

Delightful--I would do--

Ah, Love, what would I do?

And when the singer ceased there was a merry round of applause.

The ripple thus awakened had scarcely subsided, when the ancient

Lysander opened one of the doors, and, after ringing the tiled floor

with the butt of his javelin, and bowing statelywise, announced

Sergius. Taking a nod from the Princess, he withdrew to give the

visitor place.

Sergius went first to Irene, and silently kissed her hand; then,

leaving her to resume work, he drew a chair to Lael's side.

Under his respectful manner there was an ease which only an assurance

of welcome could have brought him. This is not to be taken in the sense

of familiarity; if he ever indulged that vulgarism--something quite out

of character with him--it was not in his intercourse with the Princess.

She did not require formality; she simply received courtesy from

everybody, even the Emperor, as a natural tribute. At the same time,

Sergius was nearer in her regard than any other person, for special

reasons.

We have seen the sympathetic understanding between the two in the

matter of religion. We have seen, also, why she viewed him as a

protege. Never had one presented himself to her so gentle and

unconventional never one knowing so little of the world. With life all

before him, with its ways to learn, she saw he required an adviser

through a period of tutelage, and assumed the relation partly through a

sense of duty, partly from reverent recollection of Father Hilarion.

These were arguments sound in themselves; but two others had recently

offered.

In the first place she was aware of the love which had arisen between

the monk and Lael. She had not striven to spy it out. Like children,

they had affected no disguise of their feeling; and while disallowing

the passion a place in her own breast, she did not deprecate or seek to

smother it in others. Far from that, in these, her wards, so to speak,

it was with her an affair of permissive interest. They were so lovable,

it seemed an order of nature they should love each other.

Next, the world was dealing harshly with Sergius; and though he strove

manfully to hide the fact, she saw he was suffering. He deserved well,

she thought, for his rescue of Lael, and for the opportunity given the

Emperor to break up the impiety founded by Demedes. Unhappily her

opinion was not subscribed in certain quarters. The powerful

Brotherhood of the St. James' amongst others was in an extreme state of

exasperation with him. They insisted he could have achieved the rescue

without the death of the Greek. They went so far as to accuse him of a

double murder--of the son first, then of the father. A terrible

indictment! And they were bold and open-mouthed. Out of respect for the

Emperor, who was equally outspoken in commendation of Sergius, they had

not proceeded to the point of expulsion. The young man was still of the

Brotherhood; nevertheless he did not venture to exercise any of the

privileges of a member. His cell was vacant. The five services of the

day were held in the chapel without him. In short, the Brotherhood were

in wait for an opportunity to visit him with their vengeance. In hope

of a favorable turn in the situation, he wore the habit of the Order,

but it was his only outward sign of fraternity. Without employment,

miserable, he found lodgment in the residence of the Patriarch, and

what time he was not studying, he haunted the old churches of the city,

Sancta Sophia in especial, and spent many hours a dreaming voyager on

the Bosphorus.

The glad look which shone in the eyes of the invalid when Sergius took

seat by her was very noticeable; and when she reached him her hand, the

kiss he left upon it was of itself a declaration of tender feeling.

"I hope my little friend is better, to-day," he said, gravely.

"Yes, much better. The Princess says I may go out soon--the first real

spring day."

"That is good news. I wish I could hurry the spring. I have everything

ready to take you on the water--a perfect boat, and two master rowers.

Yesterday they carried me to the Black Sea and back, stopping for a

lunch of bread and figs at the foot of the Giants' Mountain. They boast

they can repeat the trip often as there are days in the week."

"Did you stop at the White Castle?" she asked, with a smile.

"No. Our noble Princess was not with me; and in her absence, I feared

the Governor might forget to be polite as formerly."

The gracious lady, listening, bent lower over the frame before her. She

knew so much more of the Governor than Lael did! But Lael then inquired:

"Where have you been to-day?"

"Well, my little friend, let me see if I can interest you.... This

morning I awoke betimes, and set myself to study. Oh, those chapters of

John--the fourteenth, fifteenth and sixteenth. There is no need of

religious knowledge beyond them. Of the many things they make clear,

this is the clearest--the joys of eternal life lie in the saying of the

Lord, 'I am the Way, and the Truth, and the Life; no man cometh unto

the Father but by Me.' ... After my hours of study, I went to see an

old church over in the low garden grounds beyond the aqueduct. Before I

could get through the doorway, a flock of goats had to pass out. I will

tell His Serenity what I beheld. Better the wreck be cleaned from the

face of the earth than desecrated. Holy ground once, holy ground

forever."

"Where is the Church?" the Princess inquired.

"In the low grounds between the aqueduct, and the gates of St. Romain

and Adrianople."

"It belongs to one of the Brotherhoods. They have farming right in the

soil."

"I am sorry to hear it."

As she turned to her work again, he went on with his account of himself.

"I had then two hours and more till noon, and was at loss what to do.

Finally I decided to go to the Port of Blacherne--a long walk, but not

too long, considering my motive.... Princess, have you heard of the

Italian newly arrived?"

"What of him, pray?"

"He is the talk of the city, and if the half told of him be true, we

must needs wonder. He travels in his own ship. Merchants have that

habit, but he is not a merchant. Kings do so, but he is not a king. He

came in saluting with a gun, in style becoming a great admiral; but if

he is an admiral, his nationality is a secret. He also flies an unknown

flag. They report him further as standing much on his deck in a suit of

armor glistening like silver. And what is he? Mouth speaketh unto

mouth, with no one to answer. They go then to his ship, pronouncing it

the most perfect thing of the kind ever seen in the harbor. Those who

have rowed around it say the sailors are not white men, but dark-faced

creatures in turbans and black beards, un-Christian and ugly-looking.

Fishermen and fruiterers have been permitted on deck--nobody else--and

they, returning alive, say the rowers, of whom they caught glimpses,

are blacker than the sailors. They also overheard strange noises

below--voices not human."

The countenance of the Princess during this recital gradually changed;

she seemed disposed to laugh at the exaggerations of the populace.

"So much for town-talk," Sergius continued. "To get sight of the ship,

and of the mysterious magnate, I walked across the city to the Port of

Blacherne, and was well rewarded. I found the ship drawn in to the

quay, and the work of unloading her in progress. Parties of porters

were attacking heaps of the cargo already on the landing. Where they

were taking the goods I could not learn. I saw five horses lifted out

of the hold, and led ashore over a bridge dropped from the vessel's

side. Such horses I never before beheld. Two were grays, two bays, and

one chestnut-colored. They looked at the sun with wide-open unwinking

eyes; they inhaled the air as it were something to drink; their coats

shone like silk; their manes were soft like the hair of children; their

tails flared out in the breeze like flags; and everybody exclaimed:

'Arabs, Arabs!' There was a groom for each horse--tall men, lean,

dust-hued, turbaned, and in black gowns. At sight of the animals, an

old Persian who, from his appearance, might have been grandfather of

the grooms, begged permission--I could not understand the tongue he

used--put his arms around the necks of the animals, and kissed them

between the eyes, his own full of tears the while. I suppose they

reminded him of his own country.... Then two officers from the palace,

representatives doubtless of the Emperor, rode out of the gate in

armor, and immediately the stranger issued from his cabin, and came

ashore. I confess I lost interest in the horses, although he went to

them and scanned them over, lifting their feet and tapping their hoofs

with the handle of a dagger. By that time the two officers were

dismounted; and approaching with great ceremony, they notified him they

had been sent by His Majesty to receive and conduct him to assigned

quarters. He replied to them in excellent Greek, acknowledging His

Majesty's graciousness, and the pleasure he would have in their escort.

From the cabin, two of his men brought a complete equipment, and placed

it on the chestnut steed. The furniture was all sheen of satin and

gold. Another attendant brought his sword and shield; and after the

sword was buckled around him, and the shield at his back, he took hold

of the saddle with both hands, and swung himself into the seat with an

ease remarkably in contrast with the action of his Greek conductors,

who, in mounting, were compelled to make use of their stirrups. The

cavalcade then passed the gate into the city."

"You saw him closely?" Lael asked.

"To get to his horse, he passed near me as I am to you, my little

friend."

"What did he wear?"

"Oh, he was in armor. A cap of blue steel, with a silver spike on the

crown--neck and shoulders covered with a hood of mail--body in a shirt

of mail, a bead of silver in each link--limbs to the knees in mail.

From the knees down there were splints of steel inlaid with silver; his

shoes were of steel, and on the heels long golden spurs. The hood was

clasped under the chin, leaving the face exposed--a handsome face, eyes

black and bright, complexion olive, though slightly bloodless,

expression pleasant."

"How old is he?"

"Twenty-six or seven. Altogether he reminded me of what I have heard of

the warriors who used to go crusading."

"What following had he?"

This was from the Princess.

"I can only speak of what I saw--of the keepers of the horses, and of

the other men, whom, in my unfamiliarity with military fashions, I will

call equerry, armorer, and squire or page. What accounting is to be

made of the ship's company, I leave, O Princess, to your better

knowledge."

"My inquiry was of his personal suite."

"Then I cannot give you a better answer; but if I may say so much, the

most unusual thing observable in his followers was, they were all

Orientals--not one of them had a Christian appearance."

"Well"--and the Princess laid her needle down for the first time--"I

see how easily a misunderstanding of the stranger may get abroad. Let

me tell what I know of him.... Directly he arrived, he despatched a

letter to His Majesty, giving an account of himself. He is a soldier by

profession, and a Christian; has spent much time in the Holy Land,

where he acquired several Eastern languages; obtained permission from

the Pontiff Nicholas to make war on the African pirates; manned his

galley with captives; and, not wishing to return to his native land and

engage in the baronial wars which prevail there at present, he offered

his services to His Majesty. He is an Italian nobleman, entitled _Count

Corti,_ and submitted to His Majesty a certificate, under the hand and

seal of the Holy Father, showing that the Holy Father knighted him, and

authorized his crusade against the infidels. The preference for a

following composed of Orientals is singular; but after all, it is only

a matter of taste. The day may come, dear Sergius, when the Christian

world will disapprove his method of getting title to servants; but it

is not here now.... If further discussion of the Count takes place in

your presence, you are at liberty to tell what I tell you. At Blacherne

yesterday I had the particulars, together with the other circumstance,

that the Emperor gladly accepted the Italian's overture, and assigned

him quarters in the Palace of Julian, with leave to moor his galley in

the port there. Few noble foreigners have sought our Empire bringing

better recommendations."

The fair lady then took up her needle, and was resuming work, when

Lysander entered, and, after thumping the floor, announced: "Three

o'clock."

The Princess silently arose, and passed out of the room; at the same

time there was a commotion behind the curtain, and presently the other

apartment was vacated. Sergius lingered a moment.

"Tell me now of yourself," Lael said, giving him her hand.

He kissed the hand fondly, and replied: "The clouds still hang low and

dark over me; but my faith is not shaken; they will blow away; and in

the meantime, dear little friend, the world is not all cheerless--you

love me."

"Yes, I love you," she said, with childish simplicity.

"The Brotherhood has elected a new Hegumen," he continued.

"A good man, I hope."

"The violence with which he denounced me was the chief argument in his

favor. But God is good. The Emperor, the Patriarch, and the Princess

Irene remain steadfast. Against them the Hegumen will be slow in

proceeding to my expulsion. I am not afraid. I will go on doing what I

think right. Time and patience are good angels to the unjustly accused.

But that any one should hold it a crime to have rescued you--O little

friend, dear soul! See the live coal which does not cease burning!"

"And Nilo?"

"He wants nothing in the way of comforts."

"I will go see the poor man the first thing when I get out."

"His cell in the Cynegion is well furnished. The officer in charge has

orders direct from the Emperor to see that he suffers no harm. I saw

him day before yesterday. He does not know why he is a prisoner, but

behaves quietly. I took him a supply of tools, and he passes the time

making things in use in his country, mostly implements of war and

hunting. The walls of his cell are hung with bows, arrows and lances of

such curious form that there is always quite a throng to see them. He

actually divides honor with Tamerlane, the king of the lions."

"It should be a very noble lion, for that."

Sergius, seeing her humor, went on: "You say truly, little friend. He

has in hand a net of strong thread and thousands of meshes already.

'What is it for?' I asked. In his pantomimic way he gave me to

understand: 'In my country we hunt lions with it.' 'How?' said I. And

he showed me two balls of lead, one in each corner of the net. Taking

the balls in his hands: 'Now we are in front of the game--now it

springs at us--up they go this way.' He gave the balls a peculiar toss

which sent them up and forward on separating lines. The woven threads

spread out in the air like a yellow mist, and I could see the

result--the brute caught in the meshes, and entangled. Then the brave

fellow proceeded with his pantomime. He threw himself to one side out

of the way of the leap--drew a sword, and stabbed and stabbed--and the

triumph in his face told me plainly enough. 'There--he is dead!' Just

now he is engaged on another work scarcely less interesting to him. A

dealer in ivory sent him an elephant's tusk, and he is covering it with

the story of a campaign. You see the warriors setting out on the

march--in another picture they are in battle--a cloud of arrows in

flight--shields on arm--bows bent--and a forest of spears. From the

large end he is working down toward the point. The finish will be a

victory, and a return with captives and plunder immeasurable.... He is

well cared for; yet he keeps asking me about his master the Prince of

India. Where is he? When will he come? When he turns to that subject I

do not need words from him. His soul gets into his eyes. I tell him the

Prince is dead. He shakes his head: 'No, no!' and sweeping a circle in

the air, he brings his hands to his breast, as to say: 'No, he is

travelling--he will come back for me.'"

Sergius had become so intent upon the description that he lost sight of

his hearer; but now a sob recalled him. Bending lower over the hand, he

caressed it more assiduously than ever, afraid to look into her face.

When at length the sobbing ceased, he arose and said, shamefacedly:

"O dear little friend, you forgive me, do you not?"

From his manner one would have thought he had committed an offence far

out of the pale of condonement.

"Poor Sergius," she said. "It is for me to think of you, not you of

me." He tried to look cheerful.

"It was stupid in me. I will be more careful. Your pardon is a sweet

gift to take away.... The Princess is going to Sancta Sophia, and she

may want me. To-morrow--until to-morrow--good-by."

This time he stooped, and kissed her on the forehead; next moment she

was alone.

CHAPTER VI

COUNT CORTI IN SANCTA SOPHIA

The Palace of Julian arose the chief embellishment of a large square

enclosure on the sea front southeast of the landmark at present called

the Burnt Column, and, like other imperial properties of the kind, it

was an aggregation of buildings irregular in form and style, and more

or less ornate and imposing. A garden stretched around it. The founder,

wanting private harborage for his galleys and swarm of lesser boats,

dug a basin just inside the city wall, and flooded it with pure

Marmoran water; then, for ingress and egress at his sovereign will, he

slashed the wall, and of the breach made the _Port of Julian_.

[Footnote: Only a shallow depression in the ground, faintly

perpetuating the outlines of the harbor, now marks the site of this

royal residence.]

Count Corti found the Palace well preserved in and out. He had not

purposed hiding himself, yet it was desirable to keep his followers

apart much as possible; and for that a situation more to his wish could

scarcely have been chosen in the capital.

Issuing from the front door, a minute's walk through a section of the

garden brought him to a stairway defended on both sides with massive

balustrading. The flight ended in a spacious paved landing; whence,

looking back and up, he could see two immense columnar pedestals

surmounted by statues, while forward extended the basin, a sheet of

water on which, white and light as a gull, his galley rested. He had

but to call the watchman on its deck, and a small boat would come to

him in a trice. He congratulated himself upon the lodgement.

The portion of the Palace assigned him was in the south end; and,

although he enlisted a number of skilful upholsterers, a week and more

was industriously taken with interior arrangements for himself, and in

providing for the comfort and well-being of his horses; for it is to be

said in passing, he had caught enough of the spirit of the nomadic Turk

to rate the courser which was to bear him possibly through foughten

fields amongst the first in his affections. In this preparation,

keeping the scheme to which his master had devoted him ever present, he

required no teaching to point out the policy of giving his

establishment an air of permanence as well as splendor.

Occupied as he was, he had nevertheless snatched time to look in upon

the Hippodrome, and walk once around the Bucoleon and Sancta Sophia.

From a high pavilion overhanging his quarters, he had surveyed the

stretches of city in the west and southwest, sensible of a lively

desire to become intimately acquainted with the bizarre panorama of

hills behind hills, so wonderfully house and church crowned.

To say truth, however, the Count was anxious to hear from the Sultan

before beginning a career. The man who was to be sent to him might

appear any hour, making it advisable to keep close home. He had a

report of the journey to Italy, and of succeeding events, including his

arrival at Constantinople, ready draughted, and was impatient to

forward it. A word of approval from Mahommed would be to him like a new

spirit given. He counted upon it as a cure for his melancholia.

Viewing the galley one day, he looked across the basin to where the

guard of the Port was being changed, and was struck with the foreign

air of the officer of the relief. This, it happened, was singularly

pertinent to a problem which had been disturbing his active mind--how

he could most safely keep in communication with Mahommed, or, more

particularly, how the Sultan's messenger could come with the most

freedom and go with the least hindrance. A solution now presented

itself. If the Emperor intrusted the guardianship of the gate to one

foreigner, why not to another? In other words, why not have the duty

committed to himself and his people? Not improbably the charge might be

proposed to him; he would wait awhile, and see; if, however, he had to

formally request it, could anything be more plausibly suggestive than

the relation between the captaincy of that Port and residence in the

Palace of Julian? The idea was too natural to be refused; if granted,

he was master of the situation. It would be like holding the keys of

the city. He could send out and admit as need demanded; and then, if

flight became imperative, behold a line of retreat! Here was his

galley--yonder the way out.

While he pondered the matter, a servant brought him notice of an

officer from Blacherne in waiting. Responding immediately, he found our

ancient friend the Dean in the reception room, bringing the

announcement that His Majesty the Emperor had appointed audience for

him next day at noon; or, if the hour was not entirely convenient,

would the Count be pleased to designate another? His Majesty was aware

of the attention needful to a satisfactory settlement in strange

quarters, and had not interrupted him earlier; for which he prayed

pardon.

The Count accepted the time set; after which he conducted his visitor

through his apartments, omitting none of them; from the kitchen he even

carried him to the stable, whence he had the horses brought one by one.

Hospitality and confidence could go no further, and he was amply

rewarded. The important functionary was pleased with all he saw, and

with nothing more than Corti himself. There could not be a doubt of the

friendliness of the report he would take back to Blacherne. In short,

the Count's training in a court dominated by suspicion to a greater

degree even than the court in Constantinople was drawn upon most

successfully. A glass of wine at parting redolent with the perfume of

the richest Italian vintage fixed the new-comer's standing in the

Dean's heart. If there had been the least insufficiency in the

emblazoned certificate of the Holy Father, here was a swift witness in

confirmation.

The day was destined to be eventful to the Count. While he was

entertaining the Dean, the men on the deck of the galley, unused to

Byzantine customs, were startled by a cry, long, swelling, then

mournfully decadent. Glancing in the direction from which it came, they

saw a black boat sweeping through the water-way of the Port. A man of

dubious complexion, tall and lithe, his scant garments originally

white, now stiff with dirt of many hues, a ragged red head-cloth illy

confining his coarse black hair, stood in the bow shouting, and holding

up a wooden tray covered with fish. The sentinel to whom he thus

offered the stock shook his head, but allowed him to pass. At the

galley's side there was an interchange of stares between the sailors

and the fishermen--such the tenants of the black craft were--leaving it

doubtful which side was most astonished. Straightway the fellow in the

bow opened conversation, trying several tongues, till finally he

essayed the Arabic.

"Who are you?"

"Sailors."

"Where from?"

"Tripoli."

"Children of the Prophet?"

"We believe in Allah and the Last Day, and observe prayer, and pay the

appointed alms, and dread none but Allah; we are among the rightly

guided." [Footnote: Koran, IX. 18.]

"Blessed be Allah! May his name be exalted here and everywhere!" the

fisherman returned; adding immediately: "Whom serve you?"

"A _Scherif_ from Italy."

"How is he called?"

"The Count."

"Where is he?"

"In the Palace yonder."

"A Christian?"

"A Christian with an Eastern tongue; and he knows the hours of prayer,

and observes them."

"Does he reside here?"

"He is Lord of the Palace."

"When did he arrive?"

"Since the moon fulled."

"Does he want fish?"

The men on the ship laughed.

"Go ask him."

"That is his landing there?"

"Yes."

"All men who live down by the sea eat fish--when they can get them,"

the dealer said, solemnly. Turning then to his rowers, he bade them:

"Forward to the landing."

There he stepped out, dextrously balanced the tray on his head,

ascended the stairs, and in front of the great house went persistently

from door to door until he came to that of the Count.

"Fish?" he asked the man who answered his knock.

"I will see."

The doorkeeper returned shortly, and said, "No."

"Are you a Moslem?" the fisherman inquired.

"Yes. Blessed be Allah for the right understanding!"

"So am I. Now let me see the master. I want to furnish him with fish

for the season."

"He is engaged."

"I will wait for him. Tell him my catch is this morning's--red mullets

and choice cuts from a royal sword-fish that leaped ten feet in the air

with the spear in his back."

Thereupon he deposited the tray, and took seat by it, much as to say,

Time is of no consequence to me. Ere long the Count appeared with the

Dean. He glanced at the tray, then at the fisherman--to the latter he

gave a second look.

"What beautiful fish!" he said, to the Dean.

"Yes, yes--there are no fish pastures like those of our Bosphorus."

"How do you call this kind?"

"Mullets--red mullets. The old Romans used to fatten them in tanks."

"I thought I had seen their like on our Italian coasts. How do you

prepare them for the table?"

"We fry them, Count, in olive oil--pure oil."

All this time Corti was studying the fisherman.

"What meal, pray, will fashion allow them to me dished?" he went on.

"For breakfast especially; though when you come to dine with His

Majesty do not be surprised to see them early in course."

"Pardon the detention, my Lord--I will make trial of these in the

morning." Then to the fisherman the Count said, carelessly: "Keep thy

place until I return."

Corti saw the Dean out of the eastern gate of the enclosure, and

returned.

"What, still here!" he said, to the dealer. "Well, go with the

doorkeeper to the kitchen. The cook will take what he needs for

to-morrow." Speaking to the doorkeeper then: "Bring the man to me. I am

fond of fishing, and should like to talk with him about his methods.

Sometime he may be willing to take me with him."

By and by the monger was shown into the Count's room, where there was a

table, with books and writing material--a corner room full lighted by

windows in the south and east. When they were alone, the two gazed at

each other.

"Ali, son of Abed-din!" said the Count. "Is it thou?"

"O Emir! All of me that is not fish is the Ali thou hast named."

"God is great!" the first exclaimed.

"Blessed be God!" the other answered.

They were acquaintances of long standing.

Then Ali took the red rag from his head, and from its folds produced a

strip of fine parchment with writing on it impervious to water.

"Behold, Emir! It is for thee."

The Count received the scrip and read:

"This is he I promised to send. He has money for thee. Thou mayst trust

him. Tell me this time of thyself first; then of her; but always after

of her first. My soul is scorching with impatience."

There was no date to the screed nor was it signed; yet the Count put it

to his forehead and lips. He knew the writing as he knew his own hand.

"O Ali!" he said, his eyes aglow. "Hereafter thou shalt be Ali the

Faithful, son of Abed-din the Faithful."

Ali replied with a rueful look: "It is well. What a time I have had

waiting for you! Much I fear my bones will never void the damps blown

into them by the winter winds, and I perched on the cross-sticks of a

floating _dallyan_.... I have money for you, O Emir! and the keeping it

has given me care more than enough to turn another man older than his

mother. I will bring it to-morrow; after which I shall say twenty

prayers to the Prophet--blessed be his name!--where now I say one."

"No, not to-morrow, Ali, but the day after when thou bringest me

another supply of fish. There is danger in coming too often--and for

that, thou must go now. Staying too long is dangerous as coming too

often.... But tell me of our master. Is he indeed the Sultan of Sultans

he promised to be? Is he well? Where is he? What is he doing?"

"Not so fast, O Emir, not so fast, I pray you! Better a double mouthful

of stale porpoise fat, with a fin bone in it, than so many questions at

once."

"Oh, but I have been so long in the slow-moving Christian world without

news!"

"Verily, O Emir, Padishah Mahommed will be greatest of the _Gabour_

eaters since Padishah Othman--that to your first. He is well. His bones

have reached their utmost limit, but his soul keeps growing--that to

your second. He holds himself at Adrianople. Men say he is building

mosques. I say he is building cannon to shoot bullets big as his

father's tomb; when they are fired, the faithful at Medina will hear

the noise, and think it thunder--that to your third. And as to his

doing--getting ready for war, meaning business for everybody, from the

Shiek-ul-Islam to the thieving tax-farmers of Bagdad--to the

Kislar-Jinn of Abad-on with them. He has the census finished, and now

the Pachas go listing the able-bodied, of whom they have half a

million, with as many more behind. They say the young master means to

make a _sandjak_ of unbelieving Europe."

"Enough, Ali!--the rest next time."

The Count went to the table, and from a secret drawer brought a package

wrapped in leather, and sealed carefully.

"This for our Lord--exalted be his name! How wilt thou take it?"

Ali laughed.

"In my tray to the boat, but the fish are fresh, and there are flowers

of worse odor in Cashmere. So, O Emir, for this once. Next time, and

thereafter, I will have a hiding-place ready."

"Now, Ali, farewell. Thy name shall be sweet in our master's ears as a

girl-song to the moon of Ramazan. I will see to it."

Ali took the package, and hid it in the bosom of his dirty shirt. When

he passed out of the front door, it lay undistinguishable under the

fish and fish meat; and he whispered to the Count in going: "I have an

order from the Governor of the White Castle for my unsold stock. God is

great!"

Corti, left alone, flung himself on a chair. He had word from

Mahommed--that upon which he counted so certainly as a charm in

counteraction of the depression taking possession of his spirit. There

it was in his hand, a declaration of confidence unheard of in an

Oriental despot. Yet the effect was wanting. Even as he sat thinking

the despondency deepened. He groped for the reason in vain. He strove

for cheer in the big war of which Ali had spoken--in the roar of

cannon, like thunder in Medina--in Europe a Sultanic _sandjak_. He

could only smile at the exaggeration. In fact, his trouble was the one

common to every fine nature in a false position. His business was to

deceive and betray--whom? The degradation was casting its shadow

before. Heaven help when the eclipse should be full!

For relief he read the screed again: "Tell me this time of thyself

first; then of _her_." ... Ah, yes, the kinswoman of the Emperor! He

must devise a way to her acquaintance, and speedily. And casting about

for it, he became restless, and finally resolved to go out into the

city. He sent for the chestnut Arab, and putting on the steel cap and

golden spurs had from the Holy Father was soon in the saddle.

It was about three o'clock afternoon, with a wind tempered to mildness

by a bright sun. The streets were thronged, while the balconies and

overhanging windows had their groups on the lookout for entertainment

and gossip. As may be fancied the knightly rider and gallant barb,

followed by a dark-skinned, turbaned servant in Moorish costume,

attracted attention. Neither master nor man appeared to give heed to

the eager looks and sometimes over-loud questions with which they were

pursued.

Turning northward presently, the Count caught sight of the dome of

Sancta Sophia. It seemed to him a vast, upturned silver bowl glistening

in the sky, and he drew rein involuntarily, wondering how it could be

upheld; then he was taken with a wish to go in, and study the problem.

Having heard from Mahommed, he was lord of his time, and here was noble

diversion.

In front of the venerable edifice, he gave his horse to the dark-faced

servant, and entered the outer court unattended.

A company, mixed apparently of every variety of persons, soldiers,

civilians, monks, and women, held the pavement in scattered groups; and

while he halted a moment to survey the exterior of the building, cold

and grimly plain from cornice to base, he became himself an object of

remark to them. About the same time a train of monastics, bareheaded,

and in long gray gowns, turned in from the street, chanting

monotonously, and in most intensely nasal tones. The Count, attracted

by their pale faces, hollow eyes and unkept beards, waited for them to

cross the court. Unkept their beards certainly were, but not white.

This was the beginning of the observation he afterward despatched to

Mahommed: Only the walls of Byzantium remain for her defence; the

Church has absorbed her young men; the sword is discarded for the

rosary. Nor could he help remarking that whereas the _frati_ of Italy

were fat, rubicund, and jolly, these seemed in search of death through

the severest penitential methods. His thought recurring to the house

again, he remembered having heard how every hour of every day from five

o'clock in the morning to midnight was filled with religious service of

some kind in Sancta Sophia.

A few stone steps the full length of the court led up to five great

doors of bronze standing wide open; and as the train took one of the

latter and began to disappear, he chose another, and walked fast in

order to witness the entry. Brought thus into the immense vestibule, he

stopped, and at once forgot the gray brethren. Look where he might, at

the walls, and now up to the ceiling, every inch of space wore the

mellowed brightness of mosaic wrought in cubes of glass exquisitely

graduated in color. What could he do but stand and gaze at the Christ

in the act of judging the world? Such a cartoon had never entered his

imagination. The train was gone when he awoke ready to proceed.

There were then nine doors also of bronze conducting from the

vestibule. The central and larger one was nearest him. Pushed lightly,

it swung open on noiseless hinges; a step or two, and he stood in the

nave or auditorium of the Holy House.

The reader will doubtless remember how Duke Vlodomir, the grandson of

Olga, the Russian, coming to Constantinople to receive a bride, entered

Sancta Sophia the first time, and from being transfixed by what he saw

and heard, fell down a convert to Christianity. Not unlike was the

effect upon Corti. In a sense he, too, was an unbeliever semi-barbaric

in education. Many were the hours he had spent with Mahommed while the

latter, indulging his taste, built palaces and mosques on paper,

striving for vastness and original splendor. But what was the Prince's

utmost achievement in comparison with this interior? Had it been an

ocean grotto, another Caprian cave, bursting with all imaginable

revelations of light and color, he could not have been more deeply

impressed. Without architectural knowledge; acquainted with few of the

devices employed in edificial construction, and still less with the

mysterious power of combination peculiar to genius groping for effects

in form, dimensions, and arrangement of stone on stone with beautiful

and sublime intent; yet he had a soul to be intensely moved by such

effects when actually set before his eyes. He walked forward slowly

four or five steps from the door, looking with excited vision--not at

details or to detect the composition of any of the world of objects

constituting the view, or with a thought of height, breadth, depth, or

value--the marbles of the floor rich in multiformity and hues, and

reflective as motionless water, the historic pillars, the varied

arches, the extending galleries, the cornices, friezes, balustrades,

crosses of gold, mosaics, the windows and interlacing rays of light,

brilliance here, shadows yonder--the apse in the east, and the altar

built up in it starry with burning candles and glittering with

prismatic gleams shot from precious stones and metals in every

conceivable form of grace--lamps, cups, vases, candlesticks, cloths,

banners, crucifixes, canopies, chairs, Madonnas, Child Christs and

Christs Crucified--and over all, over lesser domes, over arches

apparently swinging in the air, broad, high, near yet far away, the

dome of Sancta Sophia, defiant of imitation, like unto itself alone, a

younger sky within the elder--these, while he took those few steps,

merged and ran together in a unity which set his senses to reeling, and

made question and thought alike impossible.

How long the Count stood thus lost to himself in the glory and

greatness of the place, he never knew. The awakening was brought about

by a strain of choral music, which, pouring from the vicinity of the

altar somewhere, flooded the nave, vast as it was, from floor to dome.

No voice more fitting could be imagined; and it seemed addressing

itself to him especially. He trembled, and began to think.

First there came to him a comparison in which the Kaaba was a relative.

He recalled the day he fell dying at the corner under the Black Stone.

He saw the draped heap funereally dismal in the midst of the cloisters.

How bare and poor it seemed to him now! He remembered the visages and

howling of the demoniac wretches struggling to kiss the stone, though

with his own kiss he had just planted it with death. How different the

worship here! ... This, he thought next, was his mother's religion. And

what more natural than that he should see that mother descending to the

chapel in her widow's weeds to pray for him? Tears filled his eyes. His

heart arose chokingly in his throat. Why should not her religion be

his? It was the first time he had put the question to himself directly;

and he went further with it. What though Allah of the Islamite and

Jehovah of the Hebrew were the same?--What though the Koran and the

Bible proceeded from the same inspiration?--What though Mahomet and

Christ were alike Sons of God? There were differences in the worship,

differences in the personality of the worshippers. Why, except to allow

every man a choice according to his ideas of the proper and best in

form and companionship? And the spirit swelled within him as he asked,

Who are my brethren? They who stole me from my father's house, who slew

my father, who robbed my mother of the lights of life, and left her to

the darkness of mourning and the bitterness of ungratified hope--were

not they the brethren of my brethren?

At that moment an old man appeared before the altar with assistants in

rich canonicals. One placed on the elder's head what seemed a crown all

a mass of flaming jewels; another laid upon him a cloak of cloth of

gold; a third slipped a ring over one of his fingers; whereupon the

venerable celebrant drew nearer the altar, and, after a prayer, took up

a chalice and raised it as if in honor to an image of Christ on a cross

in the agonies of crucifixion. Then suddenly the choir poured its

triumphal thunder abroad until the floor, and galleries, and pendant

lamps seemed to vibrate. The assistants and worshippers sank upon their

knees, and ere he was aware the Count was in the same attitude of

devotion.

The posture consisted perfectly with policy, his mission considered.

Soon or late he would have to adopt every form and observance of

Christian worship. In this performance, however, there was no

premeditation, no calculation. In his exaltation of soul he fancied he

heard a voice passing with the tempestuous jubilation of the singers:

"On thy knees, O apostate! On thy knees! God is here!"

But his was a combative nature; and coming to himself, and not

understanding clearly the cause of his prostration, he presently arose.

Of the worshippers in sight, he alone was then standing, and the

sonorous music ringing on, he was beginning to doubt the propriety of

his action, when a number of women, unobserved before, issued from a

shaded corner at the right of the apse, fell into processional order,

and advanced slowly toward him.

One moved by herself in front. A reflection of her form upon the

polished floor lent uncertainty to her stature, and gave her an

appearance of walking on water. Those following were plainly her

attendants. They were all veiled; while a white mantle fell from her

left shoulder, its ends lost in the folds of the train of her gown,

leaving the head, face, and neck bare. Her manner, noticeable in the

distance even, was dignified without hauteur, simple, serious, free of

affectation. She was not thinking of herself.... Nearer--he heard no

foot-fall. Now and then she glided through slanting rays of soft, white

light cast from upper windows, and they seemed to derive ethereality

from her.... Nearer--and he could see the marvellous pose of the head,

and the action of the figure, never incarnation more graceful.... Yet

nearer--he beheld her face, in complexion a child's, in expression a

woman's. The eyes were downcast, the lips moved. She might have been

the theme of the music sweeping around her in acclamatory waves,

drowning the part she was carrying in suppressed murmur. He gazed

steadfastly at the countenance. The light upon the forehead was an

increasing radiance, like a star's refined by passage through the

atmospheres of infinite space. A man insensitive to beauty in woman

never was, never will be. Vows cannot alter nature; neither can monkish

garbs nor years; and it is knowledge of this which makes every woman

willing to last sacrifices for the gift; it is power to her,

vulgarizing accessories like wealth, coronets and thrones. With this

confession in mind, words are not needed to inform the reader of the

thrills which assailed the Count while the marvel approached.

The service was over as to her, and she was evidently seeking to retire

by the main door; but as he stood in front of it, she came within two

or three steps before noticing him. Then she stopped suddenly,

astonished by the figure in shining armor. A flush overspread her face;

smiling at her alarm, she spoke: "I pray pardon, Sir Knight, for

disturbing thy devotions."

"And I, fair lady, am grateful to Heaven that it placed me in thy way

to the door unintentionally."

He stepped aside, and she passed on and out.

The interior of the church, but a minute before so overwhelmingly

magnificent and impressive, became commonplace and dull. The singing

rolled on unheard. His eyes fixed on the door through which she went;

his sensations were as if awakening from a dream in which he had seen a

heavenly visitant, and been permitted to speak to it.

The spell ceased with the music; then, with swift returning sense, he

remembered Mahommed's saying: "Thou wilt know her at sight."

And he knew her--the _Her_ of the screed brought only that day by Ali.

Nor less distinctly did he recall every incident of the parting with

Mahommed, every word, every injunction--the return of the ruby ring,

even then doubtless upon the imperious master's third finger, a subject

of hourly study--the further speech, "They say whoever looketh at her

is thenceforward her lover"--and the final charge, with its

particulars, concluding: "Forget not that in Constantinople, when I

come, I am to receive her from thy hand peerless in all things as I

left her."

His shoes of steel were strangely heavy when he regained his horse at

the edge of the court. For the first time in years, he climbed into the

saddle using the stirrup like a man reft of youth. He would love the

woman--he could not help it. Did not every man love her at sight?

The idea colored everything as he rode slowly back to his quarters.

Dismounting at the door, it plied him with the repetition, _Every man

loves her at sight_.

He thought of training himself to hate her, but none the less through

the hours of the night he heard the refrain, _Every man loves her at

sight_.

In a clearer condition, his very inability to shut her out of mind,

despite his thousand efforts of will, would have taught him that

another judgment was upon him.

HE LOVED HER.

CHAPTER VII

COUNT CORTI TO MAHOMMED

At noon the days are a little more yellow, and the shadows a trifle

longer, while at evening the snows on the far mountains give the air a

coolness gently admonitory of the changing season; with these

exceptions there is scarcely a difference between the September to

which we now come and the closing stages of June.

Count Corti is fully settled in his position. Withal, however, he is

very miserable. A new light has been let in upon his being. He finds it

a severe trial to serve a Mahommedan, knowing himself a Christian born,

and still more difficult trying to be a Turk, knowing himself an

Italian. The stings grow sharper as experience makes it plainer that he

is nefariously helping those whom he ought to regard enemies destroy an

Emperor and people who never gave him offence. Worst of all, most

crushing to spirit, is his passion for the Princess Irene while under

obligations to Mahommed prohibitory of every hope, dream, and

self-promise ordinarily the sweetest incidents of love.

The person with a mental ailment curable by prompt decision, who yet

goes about debating what to do, will ere long find his will power so

weakened as to leave him a confirmed wreck. Count Corti seemed likely

to become an instance in point. The months since his visit to the

paternal castle in Italy, really the beginning of the conflicts tossing

him now here, now there, were full of warnings he could but hear; still

he continued his course.

His reports to Mahommed were frequent, and as they are of importance to

our story, we think it advisable to quote from some of them.

The following is from his first communication after the visit to Sancta

Sophia:

"I cast myself at your feet, O my Lord, praying Allah to keep you in

health, and strengthen the wise designs which occupy you

incessantly.... You bade me always speak first of the kinswoman of the

Emperor. Yesterday I rode to the Church supreme in the veneration of

the Greeks, erected, it is said, by the Emperor Justinian. Its vastness

amazed me, and, knowing my Lord's love for such creations, I declare,

were there no other incentive to the conquest of this unbelieving city

than the reduction of Sancta Sophia to the religious usages of Islam,

its possession would alone justify my Lord's best effort, regardless of

life and treasure. The riches accumulated in it through the ages are

incalculable; nevertheless its splendors, dazzling as the sun, varied

as a rainbow, sunk out of sight when the Princess Irene passed me so

near that I had a perfect view of her. Her face is composed of the

light of unnumbered stars. The union of all the graces in her person is

so far above words that Hafiz, my Lord's prince of poets, would have

been dumb before her, or, if he had spoken, it would have been to say,

She is the Song of Songs impossible to verse. She spoke to me as she

moved by, and her voice was the voice of Love. Yet she had the dignity

of a Queen governing the world through a conqueror such as my Lord is

to be. Then, the door having closed upon her, I was ready to declare,

as I now do, were there no other incentive to the conquest of this

unbelieving city than the possession of the womanly perfections

belonging to her, she would justify war to the exhaustion of the

universe. O my Lord, thou only art worthy of her! And how infinite will

be my happiness, if the Prophet through his powerful intercessions with

the Most Merciful, permits me to be the servant instrumental in

bringing her safely to thy arms!" This report concluded:

"By appointment of His Majesty, the Emperor, I had audience with him

yesterday at his High Residence, the Palace of Blacherne. The Court was

in full attendance, and, after my presentation to His Majesty, I was

introduced to its members. The ceremony was in charge of the Grand

Chamberlain, that Phranza with whom my Lord is acquainted. Much I

feared lest he should recognize me. Fortunately he is dull and

philosophical, and too much given to study of things abstract and far

away to be mindful of those close under his nose. Duke Notaras was

there also. He conversed with me about Italy. Fortunately I knew more

about the _Gabour_ country than he--its nobles, cities, manners, and

present conditions. He thanked me for information, and when he had my

account of the affair which brought me the invaluable certificate of

the Bishop of Rome he gave over sounding me. I have more reason to be

watchful of him than all the rest of the court; _so has the Emperor_.

Phranza is a man to be spared. Notaras is a man to be bowstrung.... I

flatter myself the Emperor is my friend. In another month I shall be

intrenched in his confidence. He is brave, but weak. An excellent

general without lieutenants, without soldiers, and too generous and

trustful for a politician, too religious for a statesman. His time is

occupied entirely with priests and priestly ceremonies. My Lord will

appreciate the resort which enabled me to encamp myself in his trust.

Of the five Arab horses I brought with me from Aleppo, I gave him

one--a gray, superior to the best he has in his stables. He and his

courtiers descended in a body to look at the barb and admire it."

From the third report:

"A dinner at the High Residence. There were present officers of the

army and navy, members of the Court, the Patriarch, a number of the

Clergy--Hegumen, as they are called--and the Princess Irene, with a

large suite of highborn ladies married and unmarried. His Majesty was

the Sun of the occasion, the Princess was the Moon. He sat on a raised

seat at one side of the table; she opposite him; the company according

to rank, on their right and left. I had eyes for the Moon only,

thinking how soon my Lord would be her source of light, and that her

loveliness, made up of every loveliness else in the world, would then

be the fitting complement of my Lord's glory.... His Majesty did me the

honor to lead me to her, and she did me the higher honor of permitting

me to kiss her hand. In further thought of what she was to my Lord, I

was about making her a salaam, but remembered myself--Italians are not

given to that mode of salutation, while the Greeks reserve it for the

Emperor, or Basileus as he is sometimes called.... She condescended to

talk with me. Her graces of mind are like those of her

person--adorable.... I was very deferent, and yielded the choice of

topics. She chose two--religion and arms. Had she been a man, she would

have been a soldier; being a woman, she is a religious devotee. There

is nothing of which she is more desirous than the restoration of the

Holy Sepulchre to the Christian powers. She asked me if it were true

the Holy Father commissioned me to make war on the Tripolitan pirates,

and when I said yes, she replied with a fervor truly engaging: 'The

practice of arms would be the noblest of occupations if it were given

solely to crusading.' ... She then adverted to the Holy Father. I infer

from her speaking of the Bishop of Rome as the Holy Father that she

inclines to the party which believes the Bishop rightfully the head of

the Church. How did he look? Was he a learned man? Did he set a

becoming example to his Clergy? Was he liberal and tolerant? If great

calamity were to threaten Christianity in the East, would he lend it

material help?... My Lord will have a time winning the Princess over to

the Right Understanding; but in the fields of Love who ever repented

him of his labor? When my Lord was a boy, he once amused himself

training a raven and a bird of paradise to talk. The raven at length

came to say, 'O Allah, Allah!' The other bird was beyond teaching, yet

my Lord loved it the best, and excused his partiality: 'Oh, its

feathers are so brilliant!'"

Again:

"A few days ago, I rode out of the Golden Gate, and turning to the

right, pursued along the great moat to the Gate St. Romain. The wall,

or rather the walls, of the city were on my right hand, and it is an

imposing work. The moat is in places so cumbered I doubt if it can be

everywhere flooded.... I bought some snow-water of a peddler, and

examined the Gate in and out. Its central position makes it a key of

first importance. Thence I journeyed on surveying the road and adjacent

country up far as the Adrianople gate.... I hope my Lord will find the

enclosed map of my reconnoissance satisfactory. It is at least

reliable."

Again:

"His Majesty indulged us with a hawking party. We rode to the Belgrade

forest from which Constantinople is chiefly though not entirely

supplied with water.... My Lord's Flower of Flowers, the Princess, was

of the company. I offered her my chestnut courser, but she preferred a

jennet. Remembering your instructions, O my Lord, I kept close to her

bridle. She rides wonderfully well; yet if she had fallen, how many

prayers to the Prophet, what amount of alms to the poor, would have

availed me with my Lord?... Riding is a lost art with the Greeks, if

the ever possessed it. The falcon killed a heron beyond a hill which

none of them, except the Emperor, dared cross in their saddles. Some

day I will show them how we of my Lord's loving ride.... The Princess

came safely home."

Again:

"O my Lord in duty always!... I paid the usual daily visit to the

Princess, and kissed her hand upon my admission and departing. She has

this quality above other women--she is always the same. The planets

differ from her in that they are sometimes overcast by clouds.... From

her house, I rode to the imperial arsenal, situated in the ground story

of the Hippodrome, northern side. [Footnote: Professor E A Grosvenor.]

It is well stored with implements of offence and defence--mangonels,

balistas, arbalists, rams--cranes for repairing breaches--lances,

javelins, swords, axes, shields, scutums, pavises, armor--timber for

ships--cressets for night work--ironmonger machines--arquebuses, but of

antique patterns--quarrels and arrows in countless sheaves--bows of

every style. In brief, as my Lord's soul is dauntless, as he is an

eagle, which does not abandon the firmament scared by the gleam of a

huntsman's helmet in the valley, he can bear to hear that the Emperor

keeps prepared for the emergencies of war. Indeed, were His Majesty as

watchful in other respects, he would be dangerous. Who are to serve all

these stores? His native soldiers are not enough to make a bodyguard

for my Lord. Only the walls of Byzantium remain for her defence. The

Church has swallowed the young men; the sword is discarded for the

rosary. Unless the warriors of the West succor her, she will be an easy

prey."

Again:

"My Lord enjoined me to be royal.... I have just returned from a sail

up the Bosphorus to the Black Sea in my galley. The decks were crowded

with guests. Under a silken pavilion pitched on the roof of my cabin,

there was a throne for the Princess Irene, and she shone as the central

jewel in a kingly crown.... We cast anchor in the bay of Therapia, and

went ashore to her palace and gardens. On the outside face of one of

the gate-columns, she showed me a brass plate. I recognized my Lord's

signature and safeguard, and came near saluting them with a _rik'rath_,

but restraining myself, asked her innocently, 'What it was?' O my Lord,

verily I congratulate you! She blushed, and cast down her eyes, and her

voice trembled while she answered: 'They say the Prince Mahommed nailed

it there.' 'What Prince Mahommed?' 'He who is now Sultan of the Turks.'

'He has been here, then? Did you see him?' 'I saw an Arab

story-teller.' Her face was the hue of a scarlet poppy, and I feared to

go further than ask concerning the plate: 'What does it mean?' And she

returned: 'The Turks never go by without prostrating themselves before

it. They say it is notice to them that I, and my house and grounds, are

sacred from their intrusion.' And then I said: 'Amongst peoples of the

East and the Desert, down far as the Barbary coast, the Sultan Mahommed

has high fame for chivalry. His bounties to those once fortunate enough

to excite his regard are inexhaustible.' She would have had me speak

further of you, but out of caution, I was driven to declare I knew

nothing beyond the hearsay of the Islamites among whom I had been here

and there cast.... My Lord will not require me to describe the palace

by Therapia. He has seen it.... The Princess remained there. I was at

sore loss, not knowing how I could continue to make report of her to my

Lord, until, to my relief she invited me to visit her."

Again:

"I am glad to say, for my Lord's sake, that the October winds, sweeping

down from the Black Sea, have compelled his Princess to return to her

house in the city, where she will abide till the summer comes again. I

saw her to-day. The country life has retouched her cheeks with a

just-sufficient stain of red roses; her lips are scarlet, as if she had

been mincing fresh-blown bloom of pomegranates; her eyes are clear as a

crooning baby's; her neck is downy--round as a white dove's; in her

movements afoot, she reminds me of the swaying of a lily-stalk brushed

softly by butterflies and humming-birds, attracted to its open cup of

paradisean wax. Oh, if I could but tell her of my Lord!"...

This report was lengthy, and included the account of an episode more

personal to the Sultanic emissary than any before given his master. It

was dated October. The subjoined extracts may prove interesting.

... "Everybody in the East has heard of the Hippodrome, whither I went

one day last week, and again yesterday. It was the mighty edifice in

which Byzantine vanity aired itself through hundreds of years. But

little of it is now left standing. At the north end of an area probably

seventy paces wide, and four hundred long, is a defaced structure with

a ground floor containing the arsenal, and on that, boxes filled with

seats. A lesser building rises above the boxes which is said to have

been a palace called the _Kathisma_, from which the Emperor looked down

upon the various amusements of the people, such as chariot racing, and

battles between the Blue and Green factions. Around the area from the

_Kathisma_ lie hills of brick and marble--enough to build the Palace as

yet hid in my Lord's dreams, and a mosque to becomingly house our

Mohammedan religion. In the midst, marking a line central of the

race-course, are three relics--a square pillar quite a hundred feet

high, bare now, but covered once with plates of brass--an obelisk from

Egypt--and a twisted bronze column, representing three writhing

serpents, their heads in air. [Footnote: The Hippodrome was the popular

pleasure resort in Constantinople. Besides accommodating one hundred

thousand spectators, it was the most complete building for the purposes

of its erection ever known. The world--including old Rome--had been

robbed of statuary for the adornment of this extravaganza. Its enormous

level posed in great part upon a substructure of arches on arches,

which still exist. The opinion is quite general that it was destroyed

by the Turks, and that much of its material went to construct the

Mosque Sulymanie. The latter averment is doubtless correct; but it is

only justice to say that the Crusaders, so called Christians, who

encamped in Constantinople in 1204 were the real vandals. For pastime,

merely, they plied their battle-axes on the carvings, inscriptions, and

vast collection of statuary in marble and bronze found by them on the

spinet, and elsewhere in the edifice. When they departed, the

Hippodrome was an irreparable ruin--a convenient and lawful quarry.]...

The present Emperor does not honor the ruin with his presence; but the

people come, and sitting in the boxes under the KATHISMA, and standing

on the heaps near by, find diversion watching the officers and soldiers

exercising their horses along the area.... My Lord must know, in the

next place, that there is in the city a son of the Orchan who terms

himself lawful heir of Solyman of blessed memory--the Orchan pretender

to my Lord's throne, whom the Greeks have been keeping in mock

confinement--the Orchan who is the subject of the present Emperor's

demand on my Lord for an increase of the stipend heretofore paid for

the impostor's support. The son of the pretender, being a Turk, affects

the martial practices prevalent with us, and enjoys notoriety for

accomplishments as a horseman, and in the tourney play djerid. He is

even accredited with an intention of one day taking the field against

my Lord--this when his father, the old Orchan, dies.... When I entered

the Hippodrome one day last week, Orchan the younger occupied the arena

before the Kathisma. The boxes were well filled with spectators. Some

officers of my acquaintance were present, mounted like myself, and they

accosted me politely, and eulogized the performance. Afterwhile I

joined in their commendation, but ventured to say I had seen better

exercise during my sojourn among the infidels in the Holy Land. They

asked me if I had any skill. 'I cannot call it skill,' I said; 'but my

instruction was from a noble master, the Sheik of the Jordan.' Nothing

would rest them then but a trial. At length I assented on condition

that the Turk would engage me in a tourney or a combat without

quarter--bow, cimeter, spear--on horseback and in Moslem armor. They

were astonished, but agreed to carry the challenge.... Now, O my Lord,

do not condemn me. My residence here has extended into months, without

an incident to break the peace. Your pleasure is still my rule. I keep

the custom of going about on horseback and in armor. Once only--at His

Majesty's dinner--I appeared in a Venetian suit--a red mantle and hose,

one leg black, the other yellow--red-feathered cap, shoes with the long

points chained to my knees. Was there not danger of being mistaken for

a strutting bird of show? If my hand is cunning with weapons, should

not the Greeks be taught it? How better recommend myself to His Majesty

of Blacherne? Then, what an opportunity to rid my Lord of future

annoyance! Old Orchan cannot live much longer, while this cheeping

chicken is young.... The son of the pretender, being told I was an

Italian, replied he would try a tourney with me; if I proved worthy, he

would consider the combat.... Yesterday was the time for the meeting.

There was a multitude out as witnesses, the Emperor amongst others. He

did not resort to the _Kathisma,_ but kept his saddle, with a bodyguard

of horsemen at his back. His mount was my gray Arab.... We began with

volting, demi-volting, jumping, wheeling in retreat, throwing the

horse. Orchan was a fumbler.... We took to bows next, twelve arrows

each. At full speed he put two bolts in the target, and I twelve, all

in the white ring.... Then spear against cimeter. I offered him choice,

and he took the spear. In the first career, the blunted head of his

weapon fell to the ground shorn off close behind the ferrule. The

spectators cheered and laughed, and growing angry, Orchan shouted it

was an accident, and challenged me to combat. I accepted, but His

Majesty interposed--we might conclude with the spear and sword in

tourney again.... My antagonist, charged with malicious intent,

resolved to kill me. I avoided his shaft, and as his horse bolted past

on my left, I pushed him with my shield, and knocked him from the

saddle. They picked him up bleeding nose and ears. His Majesty invited

me to accompany him to Blacherne.... I left the Hippodrome sorry not to

have been permitted to fight the vain fool; yet my repute in

Constantinople is now undoubtedly good--I am a soldier to be

cultivated."

Again:

"His Majesty has placed me formally in charge of the gate in front of

my quarters. Communication with my Lord is now at all times easy. _The

keys of the city are in effect mine._ Nevertheless I shall continue to

patronize Ali. His fish are the freshest brought to market."

Again:

"O my Lord, the Princess Irene is well and keeps the morning colors in

her cheeks for you. Yet I found her quite distraught. There was

unwelcome news at the Palace from His Majesty's ambassador at

Adrianople. The Sultan had at last answered the demand for increase of

the Orchan stipend--not only was the increase refused, but the stipend

itself was withdrawn, and a peremptory order to that effect sent to the

province whence the fund has been all along collected.... I made a

calculation, with conclusion that my report of the tourney with young

Orchan reached my Lord's hand, and I now am patting myself on the back,

happy to believe it had something to do with my Lord's decision. The

imposition deserved to have its head blown off. Orchan is a dotard. His

son's ears are still impaired. In the fall the ground caught him crown

first. He will never ride again. The pretension is over.... I rode from

the Princess' house directly to Blacherne. The Grand Council was in

session: yet the Prefect of the Palace admitted me.... O my Lord, this

Constantine is a man, a warrior, an Emperor, surrounded by old women

afraid of their shadows. The subject of discussion when I went in was

the news from Adrianople. His Majesty was of opinion that your

decision, coupled with the order discontinuing the stipend, was sign of

a hostile intent. He was in favor of preparing for war. Phranza thought

diplomacy not yet spent. Notaras asked what preparations His Majesty

had in mind. His Majesty replied, buying cannon and powder, stocking

the magazines with provisions for a siege, increasing the navy,

repairing the walls, clearing out the moat. He would also send an

embassy to the Bishop of Rome, and through him appeal to the Christian

powers of Europe for assistance in men and money. Notaras rejoined

instantly: 'Rather than a Papal Legate in Constantinople, he would

prefer a turbaned Turk.' The Council broke up in confusion.... Verily,

O my Lord, I pitied the Emperor. So much courage, so much weakness! His

capital and the slender remnant of his empire are lost unless the

_Gabours_ of Venice and Italy come to his aid. Will they? The Holy

Father, using the opportunity, will try once more to bring the Eastern

Church to its knees, and failing, will leave it to its fate. If my Lord

knocked at these gates to-morrow, Notaras would open one of them, and I

another.... Yet the Emperor will fight. He has the soul of a hero."

Again:

"The Princess Irene is inconsolable. Intensely Greek, and patriotic,

and not a little versed in politics, she sees nothing cheering in the

situation of the Empire. The vigils of night in her oratory are leaving

their traces on her face. Her eyes are worn with weeping. I find it

impossible not to sympathize with so much beauty tempered by so many

virtues. When the worst has befallen, perhaps my Lord will know how to

comfort her."

Finally:

"It is a week since I last wrote my Lord. Ali has been sick but keeps

in good humor, and says he will be well when Christian winds cease

blowing from Constantinople. He prays you to come and stop them.... The

diplomatic mishaps of the Emperor have quickened the religious feuds of

his subjects. The Latins everywhere quote the speech of Notaras in the

Council: 'Rather than a Papal Legate in Constantinople, I prefer a

turbaned Turk'--and denounce it as treason to God and the State. It

certainly represents the true feeling of the Greek clergy; yet they are

chary in defending the Duke.... The Princess is somewhat recovered,

although perceptibly paler than is her wont. She is longing for the

return of spring, and promises herself health and happiness in the

palace at Therapia.... To-morrow, she informs me, there is to be a

special grand service in Sancta Sophia. The Brotherhoods here and

elsewhere will be present. I will be there also. She hopes peace and

rest from doctrinal disputes will follow. We will see."

The extracts above given will help the reader to an idea of life in

Constantinople; more especially they portray the peculiar service

rendered by Corti during the months they cover.

There are two points in them deserving special notice: The warmth of

description indulged with respect to the Princess Irene and the

betrayal of the Emperor. It must not be supposed the Count was unaware

of his perfidy. He did his writing after night, when the city and his

own household were asleep; and the time was chosen, not merely for

greater security from discovery, but that no eye might see the remorse

he suffered. How often he broke off in the composition to pray for

strength to rescue his honor, and save himself from the inflictions of

conscience! There were caverns in the mountains and islands off in the

mid-seas: why not fly to them? Alas! He was now in a bondage which made

him weak as water. It was possible to desert Mahommed, but not the

Princess. The dangers thickening around the city were to her as well.

Telling her of them were useless; she would never abandon the old

Capital; and it was the perpetually recurring comparison of her

strength with his own weakness which wrought him his sharpest pangs.

Writing of her in poetic strain was easy, for he loved her above every

earthly consideration: but when he thought of the intent with which he

wrote--that he was serving the love of another, and basely scheming to

deliver her to him--there was no refuge in flight; recollection would

go with him to the ends of the earth--better death. Not yet--not

yet--he would argue. Heaven might send him a happy chance. So the weeks

melted into months, and he kept the weary way hoping against reason,

conspiring, betraying, demoralizing, sinking into despair.

CHAPTER VIII

OUR LORD'S CREED

Proceeding now to the special service mentioned in the extract from the

last report of Count Corti to Mahommed.

The nave of Sancta Sophia was in possession of a multitude composed of

all the Brotherhoods of the city, interspersed with visiting

delegations from the monasteries of the Islands and many of the

hermitic colonies settled in the mountains along the Asiatic shore of

the Marmora. In the galleries were many women; amongst them, on the

right-hand side, the Princess Irene. Her chair rested on a carpeted box

a little removed from the immense pilaster, and raised thus nearly to a

level with the top of the balustrade directly before her, she could

easily overlook the floor below, including the apse. From her position

everybody appeared dwarfed; yet she could see each figure quite well in

the light of the forty arched windows above the galleries.

On the floor the chancel, or space devoted to the altar, was separated

from the body of the nave by a railing of Corinthian brass, inside

which, at the left, she beheld the Emperor, in Basilean regalia, seated

on a throne--a very stately and imposing figure. Opposite him was the

chair of the Patriarch. Between the altar and the railing arose a

baldacchino, the canopy of white silk, the four supporting columns of

shining silver. Under the canopy, suspended by a cord, hung the vessel

of gold containing the Blessed Sacraments; and to the initiated it was

a sufficient publication of the object of the assemblage.

Outside the railing, facing the altar, stood the multitude. To get an

idea of its appearance, the reader has merely to remember the

description of the bands marching into the garden of Blacherne the

night of the _Pannychides_. There were the same gowns black and gray;

the same tonsured heads, and heads shock-haired; the same hoods and

glistening rosaries; the same gloomy, bearded faces; the same banners,

oriflammes, and ecclesiastical gonfalons, each with its community under

it in a distinctive group. Back further towards the entrances from the

vestibule was a promiscuous host of soldiers and civilians; having no

part in the service, they were there as spectators.

The ceremony was under the personal conduct of the Patriarch. Silence

being complete, the choir, invisible from the body of the nave, began

its magnificent rendition of the _Sanctus_--"Holy, holy, holy, Lord God

of Sabaoth. Blessed is He who cometh in the name of the Lord. Hosanna

in the highest"--and during the singing, His Serenity was clothed for

the rite. Over his cassock, the deacons placed the surplice of white

linen, and over that again a stole stiff with gold embroidery. He then

walked slowly to the altar, and prayed; and when he had himself

communicated, he was led to the baldacchino, where he blessed the Body

and the Blood, and mixed them together in chalices, ready for delivery

to the company of servers kneeling about him. The Emperor, who, in

common with the communicants within and without the railing, had been

on his knees, arose now and took position before the altar in a

prayerful attitude; whereupon the Patriarch brought him a chalice on a

small paten, and he put it to his lips, while the choir rang the dome

with triumphal symphony.

His Serenity next returned to the baldacchino, and commenced giving the

cups to the servers; at the same time the gate leading from the chancel

to the nave was thrown open. Nor rustle of garment, nor stir of foot

was heard.

Then a black-gowned figure arose amidst a group not far from the gate,

and said, in a hoarse voice, muffled by the flaps of the hood covering

his head and face:

"We are here, O Serenity, by thy invitation--here to partake of the

Holy Eucharist--and I see thou art about sending it to us. Now not a

few present believe there is no grace in leavened bread, and others

hold it impiety to partake thereof. Wherefore tell us"--

The Patriarch looked once at the speaker; then, delivering the chalice,

signed the servers to follow him; next instant, he stood in the open

gateway, and with raised hands, cried out:

"Holy things to the holy!"

Repeating the ancient formula, he stepped aside to allow the

cup-bearers to pass into the nave; but they stood still, for there came

a skurry of sound not possible of location, so did it at the same

moment seem to be from the dome descending and from the floor going up

to the dome. It was the multitude rising from their knees.

Now the Patriarch, though feeble in body, was stout of soul and

ready-witted, as they usually are whose lives pass in combat and fierce

debate. Regarding the risen audience calmly, he betook himself to his

chair, and spoke to his assistants, who brought a plain chasuble, and

put it on him, covering the golden stole completely. When he again

appeared in the spaceway of the open gate, as he presently did, every

cleric and every layman in the church to whom he was visible understood

he took the interruption as a sacrilege from which he sought by the

change of attire to save himself.

"Whoso disturbs the Sacrament in celebration has need of cause for that

he does; for great is his offence whatever the cause."

The Patriarch's look and manner were void of provocation, except as

one, himself rudely disposed, might discover it in the humility

somewhat too studied.

"I heard my Brother--it would be an untruth to say I did not--and to go

acquit of deceit, I will answer him, God helping me. Let me say first,

while we have some differences in our faith, there are many things

about which we are agreed, the things in agreement outnumbering those

in difference; and of them not the least is the Real Presence once the

Sacraments are consecrated. Take heed, O Brethren! Do any of you deny

the Real Presence in the bread and wine of communion?"

No man made answer.

"It is as I said--not one. Look you, then, if I or you--if any of us be

tempted to anger or passionate speech, and this house, long dedicated

to the worship of God, and its traditions of holiness too numerous for

memory, and therefore of record only in the Books of Heaven, fail the

restraints due them, lo, Christ is here--Christ in Real

Presence--Christ our Lord in Body and Blood!"

The old man stood aside, pointing to the vessel under the baldacchino,

and there were sighs and sobs. Some shouted: "Blessed be the Son of

God!"

The sensation over, the Patriarch continued:

"O my Brother, take thou answer now. The bread is leavened. Is it

therefore less grace-giving?"

"No, no!" But the response was drowned by an affirmative yell so strong

there could be no doubt of the majority. The minority, however, was

obstinate, and ere long the groups disrupted, and it seemed every man

became a disputant. Now nothing serves anger like vain striving to be

heard. The Patriarch in deep concern stood in the gateway, exclaiming:

"Have a care, O Brethren, have a care! For now is Christ here!" And as

the babble kept increasing, the Emperor came to him.

"They are like to carry it to blows, O Serenity."

"Fear not, my son, God is here, and He is separating the wheat from the

chaff."

"But the blood shed will be on my conscience, and the _Panagia_"--

The aged Prelate was inflexible. "Nay, nay, not yet! They are Greeks.

Let them have it out. The day is young; and how often is shame the

miraculous parent of repentance."

Constantine returned to his throne, and remained there standing.

Meantime the tumult went on until, with shouting and gesticulating, and

running about, it seemed the assemblage was getting mad with drink.

Whether the contention was of one or many things, who may say? Well as

could be ascertained, one party, taking cue from the Patriarch,

denounced the interruption of the most sacred rite; the other

anathematized the attempt to impose leavened bread upon orthodox

communicants as a scheme of the devil and his arch-legate, the Bishop

of Rome. Men of the same opinions argued blindly with each other; while

genuine opposition was conducted with glaring eyes, swollen veins,

clinched hands, and voices high up in the leger lines of hate and

defiance. The timorous and disinclined were caught and held forcibly.

In a word, the scene was purely Byzantine, incredible of any other

people.

The excitement afterwhile extended to the galleries, where, but that

the women were almost universally of the Greek faction, the same

passion would have prevailed; as it was, the gentle creatures screamed

_azymite, azymite_ in amazing disregard of the proprieties. The

Princess Irene, at first pained and mortified, kept her seat until

appearances became threatening; then she scanned the vast pit long and

anxiously; finally her wandering eyes fell upon the tall figure of

Sergius drawn out of the mass, but facing it from a position near the

gate of the brazen railing. Immediately she settled back in her chair.

To justify the emotion now possessing her, the reader must return to

the day the monk first presented himself at her palace near Therapia.

He must read again the confession, extorted from her by the second

perusal of Father Hilarion's letter, and be reminded of her education

in the venerated Father's religious ideas, by which her whole soul was

adherent to his conceptions of the Primitive Church of the Apostles.

Nor less must the reader suffer himself to be reminded of the

consequences to her--of the judgment of heresy upon her by both Latins

and Greeks--of her disposition to protest against the very madness now

enacting before her--of her longing, Oh, that I were a man!--of the

fantasy that Heaven had sent Sergius to her with the voice, learning,

zeal, courage, and passion of truth to enable her to challenge a

hearing anywhere-of the persistence with which she had since cared for

and defended him, and watched him in his studies, and shared them with

him. Nor must the later incident, the giving him a copy of the creed

she had formulated--the Creed of Nine Words--be omitted in the

consideration.

Now indeed the reader can comprehend the Princess, and the emotions

with which she beheld the scene at her feet. The Patriarch's dramatic

warning of the Real Presence found in her a ready second; for keeping

strictly to Father Hilarion's distinction between a right Creed and a

form or ceremony for pious observance, the former essential to

salvation, the latter merely helpful to continence in the Creed, it was

with her as if Christ in glorified person stood there under the

baldacchino. What wonder if, from indignation at the madness of the

assembly, the insensate howling, the blasphemous rage, she passed to

exaltation of spirit, and fancied the time good for a reproclamation of

the Primitive Church?

Suddenly a sharper, fiercer explosion of rage arose from the floor, and

a rush ensued--the factions had come to blows!

Then the Patriarch yielded, and at a sign from the Emperor the choir

sang the _Sanctus_ anew. High and long sustained, the sublime anthem

rolled above the battle and its brutalism. The thousands heard it, and

halting, faced toward the apse, wondering what could be coming. It even

reached into the vortex of combat, and turned all the unengaged there

into peacemakers.

Another surprise still more effective succeeded. Boys with lighted

candles, followed by bearers of smoking censers, bareheaded and in

white, marched slowly from behind the altar toward the open gate,

outside which they parted right and left, and stopped fronting the

multitude. A broad banner hung to a cross-stick of gold, heavy with

fringing of gold, the top of the staff overhung with fresh flowers in

wreaths and garlands, the lower corners stayed by many streaming white

ribbons in the hands of as many holy men in white woollen chasubles

extending to the bare feet, appeared from the same retreat, carried by

two brethren known to every one as janitors of the sacred chapel on the

hill-front of Blacherne.

The Emperor, the Patriarch, the servers of the chalices, the whole body

of assistants inside the railing, fell upon their knees while the

banner was borne through the gate, and planted on the floor there. Its

face was frayed and dim with age, yet the figure of the woman upon it

was plain to sight, except as the faint gray smoke from the censers

veiled it in a vanishing cloud.

Then there was an outburst of many voices:

"The _Panagia!_ The _Panagia!_"

The feeling this time was reactionary.

"O Blessed Madonna!--Guardian of Constantinople!--Mother of

God!--Christ is here!--Hosannas to the Son and to the Immaculate

Mother!" With these, and other like exclamations, the mass precipitated

itself forward, and, crowding near the historic symbol, flung

themselves on the floor before it, grovelling and contrite, if not

conquered.

The movement of the candle and censer bearers outside the gate forced

Sergius nearer it; so when the _Panagia_ was brought to a rest, he,

being much taller than its guardians, became an object of general

observation, and wishing to escape it if possible, he took off his high

hat; whereupon his hair, parted in the middle, dropped down his neck

and back fair and shining in the down-beating light.

This drew attention the more. Did any of the prostrate raise their eyes

to the Madonna on the banner, they must needs turn to him next; and

presently the superstitious souls, in the mood for miracles, began

whispering to each other:

"See--it is the Son--it is the Lord himself!"

And of a truth the likeness was startling; although in saying this, the

reader must remember the difference heretofore remarked between the

Greek and Latin ideals.

About that time Sergius looked up to the Princess, whose face shone out

of the shadows of the gallery with a positive radiance, and he was

electrified seeing her rise from her chair, and wave a hand to him.

He understood her. The hour long talked of, long prepared for, was at

last come--the hour of speech. The blood surged to his heart, leaving

him pallid as a dead man. He stooped lower, covered his eyes with his

hands, and prayed the wordless prayer of one who hastily commits

himself to God; and in the darkness behind his hands there was an

illumination, and in the midst of it a sentence in letters each a

lambent flame--the Creed of Father Hilarion and the Princess Irene--our

Lord's Creed:

"I BELIEVE IN GOD, AND JESUS CHRIST, HIS SON."

This was his theme!

With no thought of self, no consciousness but of duty to be done,

trusting in God, he stood up, pushed gently through the kneeling boys

and guardians of the _Panagia_, and took position where all eyes could

look at the Blessed Mother slightly above him, and then to himself, in

such seeming the very Son. It might have been awe, it might have been

astonishment, it might have been presentiment; at all events, the

moaning, sobbing, praying, tossing of arms, beating of breasts, with

the other outward signs of remorse, grief and contrition grotesque and

pitiful alike subsided, and the Church, apse, nave and gallery, grew

silent--as if a wave had rushed in, and washed the life out of it.

"Men and brethren," he began, "I know not whence this courage to do

comes, unless it be from Heaven, nor at whose word I speak, if not that

Jesus of Nazareth, worker of miracles which God did by him anciently,

yet now here in Real Presence of Body and Blood, hearing what we say,

seeing what we do."

"Art thou not He?" asked a hermit, half risen in front of him, his wrap

of undressed goatskin fallen away from his naked shoulders.

"No; his servant only am I, even as thou art--his servant who would not

have forsaken him at Gethsemane, who would have given him drink on the

Cross, who would have watched at the door of his tomb until laid to

sleep by the Delivering Angel--his servant not afraid of Death, which,

being also his servant, will not pass me by for the work I now do, if

the work be not by his word."

The voice in this delivery was tremulous, and the manner so humble as

to take from the answer every trace of boastfulness. His face, when he

raised it, and looked out over the audience, was beautiful. The

spectacle offered him in return was thousands of people on their knees,

gazing at him undetermined whether to resent an intrusion or welcome a

messenger with glad tidings.

"Men and brethren," he continued, more firmly, casting the old

Scriptural address to the farthest auditor, "now are you in the anguish

of remorse; but who told you that you had offended to such a degree?

See you not the Spirit, sometimes called the Comforter, in you? Be at

ease, for unto us are repentance and pardon. There were who beat our

dear Lord, and spit upon him, and tore his beard; who laid him on a

cross, and nailed him to it with nails in his hands and feet; one

wounded him in the side with a spear; yet what did he, the Holy One and

the Just? Oh! if he forgave them glorying in their offences, will he be

less merciful to us repentant?"

Raising his head a little higher, the preacher proceeded, with

increased assurance:

"Let me speak freely unto you; for how can a man repent wholly, if the

cause of his sin be not laid bare that he may see and hate it?

"Now before our dear Lord departed out of the world, he left sayings,

simple even to children, instructing such as would be saved unto

everlasting life what they must do to be saved. Those sayings I call

our Lord's Creed, by him delivered unto his disciples, from whom we

have them: 'Verily, verily, I say unto you, he that heareth my word,

and believeth on him that sent me, hath everlasting life.' So we have

the First Article--belief in God. Again: 'Verily, verily, I say unto

you, he that believeth on me hath everlasting life.' Behold the Second

Article--belief in Christ.

"Now, for that the Son, and he who sent him, are at least in purpose

one, belief in either of them is declared sufficient; nevertheless it

may be simpler, if not safer, for us to cast the Two Articles together

in a single phrase; we have then a Creed which we may affirm was made

and left behind him by our Lord himself:

I BELIEVE IN GOD, AND JESUS CHRIST, HIS SON.

And when we sound it, lo! two conditions in all; and he who embraces

them, more is not required of him; he is already passed from death unto

life--everlasting life.

"This, brethren, is the citadel of our Christian faith; wherefore, to

strengthen it. What was the mission of Jesus Christ our Lord to the

world? Hear every one! What was the mission of our Lord Jesus Christ?

Why was he sent of God, and born into the world? Hearing the question,

take heed of the answer: He was sent of God for the salvation of men.

You have ears, hear; minds, think; nor shall one of you, the richest in

understanding of the Scriptures, in walk nearest the Sinless Example,

ever find another mission for him which is not an arraignment of the

love of his Father.

"Then, if it be true, as we all say, not one denying it, that our Lord

brought to his mission the perfected wisdom of his Father, how could he

have departed from the world leaving the way of salvation unmarked and

unlighted? Or, sent expressly to show us the way, himself the appointed

guide, what welcome can we suppose he would have had from his Father in

Heaven, if he had given the duty over to the angels? Or, knowing the

deceitfulness of the human heart, and its weakness and liability to

temptation, whence the necessity for his coming to us, what if he had

given the duty over to men, so much lower than the angels, and then

gone away? Rather than such a thought of him, let us believe, if the

way had been along the land, he would have planted it with inscribed

hills; if over the seas, he would have sown the seas with pillars of

direction above the waves; if through the air, he would have made it a

path effulgent with suns numerous as the stars. 'I am the Way,' he

said--meaning the way lies through me; and you may come to me in the

place I go to prepare for you, if only you believe in God and me. Men

and brethren, our Lord was true to his mission, and wise in the wisdom

of his Father."

At this the hermit in front of the preacher, uttering a shill cry,

spread his arms abroad, and quivered from head to foot. Many of those

near sprang forward to catch him.

"No, leave him alone," cried Sergius, "leave him alone. The cross he

took was heavy of itself; but upon the cross you heaped conditions

without sanction, making a burden of which he was like to die. At last

he sees how easy it is to go to his Master; that he has only to believe

in God and the Master. Leave him with the truth; it was sent to save,

not to kill."

The excitement over, Sergius resumed:

"I come now, brethren, to the cause of your affliction. I will show it

to you; that is to say, I will show you why you are divided amongst

yourselves, and resort to cruelty one unto another; as if murder would

help either side of the quarrel. I will show your disputes do not come

from anything said or done by our Lord, whose almost last prayer was

that all who believed in him might be made perfect in one.

"It is well known to you that our Lord did not found a Church during

his life on earth, but gave authority for it to his Apostles. It is

known to you also that what his Apostles founded was but a community:

for such is the description: 'And all that believed were together, and

had all things common; and sold their possessions and goods, and parted

them to all men, as every man had need.' [Footnote: Acts ii. 44, 45.]

And again: 'And the multitude of them that believed were of one heart

and of one soul: neither said any of them that ought of the things

which he possessed was his own; but they had all things common.'

'Neither was there any among them that lacked: for as many as were

possessors of lands or houses sold them, and brought the prices of the

things that were sold, and laid them down at the apostles' feet: and

distribution was made unto every man according as he had need.'

[Footnote: Acts iv. 32, 34, 35.] But in time this community became

known as the Church; and there was nothing of it except our Lord's

Creed, in definition of the Faith, and two ordinances for the

Church--Baptism for the remission of sins, that the baptized might

receive the Comforter, and the Sacraments, that believers, often as

they partook of the Body and Blood of Christ, might be reminded of him.

"Lo, now! In the space of three generations this Church, based upon

this simple Creed, became a power from Alexandria to Lodinum; and

though kings banded to tread it out; though day and night the smell of

the blood of the righteous spilt by them was an offence to God; though

there was no ingenuity more amongst men except to devise methods for

the torture of the steadfast--still the Church grew; and if you dig

deep enough for the reasons of its triumphant resistance, these are

they: there was Divine Life in the Creed, and the Community was perfect

in one; insomuch that the brethren quarrelled not among themselves;

neither was there jealousy, envy or rivalry among them; neither did

they dispute about immaterial things, such as which was the right mode

of baptism, or whether the bread should be leavened or unleavened, or

whence the Holy Ghost proceeded, whether from the Father or from the

Father and Son together; neither did the elders preach for a price, nor

forsake a poor flock for a rich one that their salaries might be

increased, nor engage in building costly tabernacles for the sweets of

vanity in tall spires; neither did any study the Scriptures seeking a

text, or a form, or an observance, on which to go out and draw from the

life of the old Community that they might set up a new one; and in

their houses of God there were never places for the men and yet other

separate places for the women of the congregation; neither did a

supplicant for the mercy of God look first at the garments of the

neighbor next him lest the mercy might lose a virtue because of a patch

or a tatter. The Creed was too plain for quibble or dispute; and there

was no ambition in the Church except who should best glorify Christ by

living most obedient to his commands. Thence came the perfection of

unity in faith and works; and all went well with the Primitive Church

of the Apostles; and the Creed was like unto the white horse seen by

the seer of the final visions, and the Church was like him who sat upon

the horse, with a bow in his hand, unto whom a crown was given; and he

went forth conquering and to conquer."

Here the audience was stirred uncontrollably; many fell forward upon

their faces; others wept, and the nave resounded with rejoicing. In one

quarter alone there was a hasty drawing together of men with frowning

brows, and that was where the gonfalon of the Brotherhood of the St.

James' was planted. The Hegumen, in the midst of the group, talked

excitedly, though in a low tone.

"I will not ask, brethren," Sergius said, in continuance, "if this

account of the Primitive Church be true; you all do know it true; yet I

will ask if one of you holds that the offending of which you would

repent--the anger, and bitter words, and the blows--was moved by

anything in our Lord's Creed, let him arise, before the Presence is

withdrawn, and say that he thinks. These, lending their ears, will hear

him, and so will God. What, will not one arise?

"It is not necessary that I remind you to what your silence commits

you. Rather suffer me to ask next, which of you will arise and declare,

our Lord his witness, that the Church of his present adherence is the

same Church the Apostles founded? You have minds, think; tongues,

speak."

There was not so much as a rustle on the floor.

"It was well, brethren, that you kept silence; for, if one had said his

Church was the same Church the Apostles founded, how could he have

absolved himself of the fact that there are nowhere two parties each

claiming to be of the only true Church? Or did he assert both claimants

to be of the same Church, and it the only true one, then why the

refusal to partake of the Sacraments? Why a division amongst them at

all? Have you not heard the aforetime saying, 'Every kingdom divided

against itself is brought to desolation'?

"Men and brethren, let no man go hence thinking his Church, whichever

it be, is the Church of the Apostles. If he look for the community

which was the law of the old brotherhood, his search will be vain. If

he look for the unity, offspring of our Lord's last prayer, lo!

jealousies, hates, revilements, blows instead. No, your Creed is of

men, not Christ, and the semblance of Christ in it is a delusion and a

snare." At this the gonfalon of the St. James' was suddenly lifted up,

and borne forward to within a few feet of the gate, and the Hegumen,

standing in front of it, cried out:

"Serenity, the preacher is a heretic! I denounce"--

He could get no further; the multitude sprang to foot howling. The

Princess Irene, and the women in the galleries, also arose, she pale

and trembling. Peril to Sergius had not occurred to her when she gave

him the signal to speak. The calmness and resignation with which he

looked at his accuser reminded her of his Master before Pilate, and

taking seat again, she prayed for him, and the cause he was pleading.

At length, the Patriarch, waving his hand, said:

"Brethren, it may be Sergius, to whom we have been listening, has his

impulse of speech from the Spirit, even as he has declared. Let us be

patient and hear him."

Turning to Sergius, he bade him proceed.

"The three hundred Bishops and Presbyters from whom you have your

Creeds, [Footnote: _Encyclopedia Brit.,_ VI. 560.] O men and

brethren"--so the preacher continued--"took the Two Articles from our

Lord's Creed, and then they added others. Thus, which of you can find a

text of our Lord treating of his procession from the substance of God?

Again, in what passage has our Lord required belief in the personage of

the Holy Ghost as an article of faith essential to salvation?

[Footnote: Four Creeds are at present used in the Roman Catholic

Church; viz., the Apostles' Creed, the Nicene, the Athanasian, that of

Pius IV--ADD. and AR., _Catholic Dictionary,_ 232.] 'I am the Way,'

said our Lord. 'No,' say the three hundred, 'we are the way; and would

you be saved, you must believe in us not less than in God and his Son.'"

The auditors a moment before so fierce, even the Hegumen, gazed at the

preacher in a kind of awe; and there was no lessening of effect when

his manner underwent a change, his head slightly drooping and his voice

plaintive.

"The Spirit by whose support and urgency I have dared address you,

brethren, admonishes me that my task is nearly finished."

He took hold of the corner of the _Panagia;_ so all in view were more

than ever impressed with his likeness to their ideal of the Blessed

Master.

"The urgency seemed to me on account of your offence to the Real

Presence so graciously in our midst; for truly when we are in the

depths of penitence it is our nature to listen more kindly to what is

imparted for our good; wherefore, as you have minds, I beg you to

think. If our Lord did indeed leave a Creed containing the all in all

for our salvation, what meant he if not that it should stand in saving

purity until he came again in the glory of his going? And if he so

intended, and yet uninspired men have added other Articles to the

simple faith he asked of us, making it so much the harder for us to go

to him in the place he has prepared for us, are they not usurpers? And

are not the Articles which they have imposed to be passed by us as

stratagems dangerous to our souls?

"Again. The excellence of our Lord's Creed by which it may be always

known when in question, its wisdom superior to the devices of men, is

that it permits us to differ about matters outside of the faith without

weakening our relations to the Blessed Master or imperilling our lot in

his promises. Such matters, for example, as works, which are but

evidences of faith and forms of worship, and the administration of the

two ordinances of the Church, and God and his origin, and whether

Heaven be here or there, or like unto this or that. For truly our Lord

knew us, and that it was our nature to deal in subtleties and speculate

of things not intended we should know during this life; the thought of

our minds being restless and always running, like the waters of a river

on their way to the sea.

"Again, brethren. If the Church of the Apostles brought peace to its

members, so that they dwelt together, no one of them lacking or in

need, do not your experiences of to-day teach you wherein your

Churches, being those built upon the Creed of the three hundred

Bishops, are unlike it? Moreover, see you not if now you have several

Churches, some amongst you, the carping and ambitious, will go out and

in turn set up new Confessions of Faith, and at length so fill the

earth with rival Churches that religion will become a burden to the

poor and a byword with fools who delight in saying there is no God? In

a village, how much better one House of God, with one elder for its

service, and always open, than five or ten, each with a preacher for a

price, and closed from Sabbath to Sabbath? For that there must be

discipline to keep the faithful together, and to carry on the holy war

against sin and its strongholds and captains, how much better one

Church in the strength of unity than a hundred diversely named and

divided against themselves?

"The Revelator, even that John who while in the Spirit was bidden.

'Write the things which thou hast seen, and the things which are, and

the things which shall be hereafter,' wrote, and at the end of his book

set a warning: 'If any man shall add unto these things, God shall add

unto him the plagues that are written in this book.' I cannot see,

brethren, wherein that crime is greater than the addition of Articles

to our Lord's Creed; nor do I know any who have more reason to be

afraid of those threatened plagues than the priest or preacher who from

pride or ambition, or dread of losing his place or living, shall

wilfully stand in the way of a return to the Church of the Apostles and

its unity. Forasmuch as I also know what penitential life is, and how

your minds engage themselves in the solitude of your cells, I give you

whereof to think. Men and brethren, peace unto you all!"

The hermit knelt to the preacher, and kissed his hand, sobbing the

while; the auditors stared at each other doubtfully; but the Hegumen's

time was come. Advancing to the gate, he said:

"This man, O Serenity, is ours by right of fraternity. In thy hearing

he hath defamed the Creed which is the rock the Fathers chose for the

foundation of our most holy Church. He hath even essayed to make a

Creed of his own, and present it for our acceptance--thy acceptance, O

Serenity, and that of His Majesty, the only Christian Emperor, as well

as ours. And for those things, and because never before in the history

of our ancient and most notable Brotherhood hath there been an instance

of heresy so much as in thought, we demand the custody of this apostate

for trial and judgment. Give him to us to do with."

The Patriarch clasped his hands, and, shaking like a man struck with

palsy, turned his eyes upward as if asking counsel of Heaven. His doubt

and hesitation were obvious; and neighbor heard his neighbor's heart

beat; so did silence once more possess itself of the great auditorium.

The Princess Irene arose white with fear, and strove to catch the

Emperor's attention; but he, too, was in the bonds waiting on the

Patriarch.

Then from his place behind the Hegumen, Sergius spoke:

"Let not your heart be troubled, O Serenity. Give me to my Brotherhood.

If I am wrong, I deserve to die; but if I have spoken as the Spirit

directed me, God is powerful to save. I am not afraid of the trial."

The Patriarch gazed at him, his withered cheeks glistening with tears;

still he hesitated.

"Suffer me, O Serenity!"--thus Sergius again--"I would that thy

conscience may never be disquieted on my account; and now I ask not

that thou give me to my Brotherhood--I will go with them freely and of

my own accord." Speaking then to the Hegumen, he said: "No more, I

pray. See, I am ready to be taken as thou wilt."

The Hegumen gave him in charge of the brethren; and at his signal, the

gonfalon was raised and carried through the concourse, and out of one

of the doors, followed closely by the Brotherhood.

At the moment of starting, Sergius lifted his hands, and shouted so as

to be heard above the confusion: "Bear witness, O Serenity--and thou, O

Emperor! That no man may judge me an apostate, hear my confession: I

believe in God, and Jesus Christ, his Son."

Many of those present remained and partook of the Sacraments; far the

greater number hurried away, and it was not long until the house was

vacated.

CHAPTER IX

COUNT CORTI TO MAHOMMED

Extract:

"God is God, and Mahomet is his Prophet! May they keep my Lord in

health, and help him to all his heart's desires! ... It is now three

days since my eyes were gladdened by the presence of the Princess

Irene; yet I have been duteously regular in my calls at her house. To

my inquiries, her domestic has returned the same answer: 'The Princess

is in her chapel praying. She is sadly disturbed in mind, and excuses

herself to every one.' Knowing this information will excite my Lord's

apprehension, I beg him to accept the explanation of her ailments which

I think most probable.... My Lord will gratify me by graciously

referring to the account of the special meeting in Sancta Sophia which

I had the honor to forward the evening of the day of its occurrence.

The conjecture there advanced that the celebration of the Sacrament in

highest form was a stratagem of the Patriarch's looking to a

reconciliation of the factions, has been confirmed; and more--it has

proved a failure. Its effect has inflamed the fanaticism of the Greek

party as never before. Notaras, moved doubtless by Gennadius, induced

them to suspect His Majesty and the Patriarch of conniving at the

wonderful sermon of the monk Sergius; and, as the best rebuke in their

power, the Brotherhood of the St. James' erected a Tribunal of Judgment

in their monastery last night, and placed the preacher on trial. He

defended himself, and drove them to admit his points; that their Church

is not the Primitive Church of the Apostles, and that their Creed is an

unwarranted enlargement of the two Articles of Faith left by Jesus

Christ for the salvation of the world. Yet they pronounced him an

apostate and a heretic of incendiary purpose, and condemned him to the

old lion in the Cynegion, Tamerlane, famous these many years as a

man-eater.... My Lord should also know of the rumor in the city which

attributes the Creed of Nine Words--'I believe in God, and Jesus

Christ, his Son'--to the Princess Irene; and her action would seem to

justify the story. Directly the meeting in Sancta Sophia was over, she

hastened to the Palace, and entreated His Majesty to save the monk from

his brethren. My Lord may well think the Emperor disposed to grant her

prayer; his feeling for her is warmer than friendship. The gossips say

he at one time proposed marriage to her. At all events, being a

tender-hearted man--too tender indeed for his high position--it is easy

imagining how such unparalleled beauty in tearful distress must have

moved him. Unhappily the political situation holds him as in a vice.

The Church is almost solidly against him; while of the Brotherhoods

this one of the St. James' has been his only stanch adherent. What

shall the poor man do? If he saves the preacher, he is himself lost. It

appears now she has been brought to understand he cannot interfere.

Thrown thus upon the mercy of Heaven, she has buried herself in her

oratory. Oh, the full Moon of full Moons! And alas! that she should

ever be overcast by a cloud, though it be not heavier than the

just-risen morning mist. My Lord--or Allah must come quickly!

* * * * *

"O my Lord! In duty again and always!... Ali did not come yesterday. I

suppose the high winds were too unfriendly. So the despatch of that

date remained on my hands; and I now open it, and include a

supplement.... This morning as usual I rode to the Princess' door. The

servant gave me the same report--his mistress was not receiving. It

befalls therefore that my Lord must take refuge in his work or in

dreams of her--and may I lay a suggestion at his feet, I advise the

latter, for truly, if the world is a garden, she is its Queen of

Roses.... For the sake of the love my Lord bears the Princess, and the

love I bear my Lord, I did not sleep last night, being haunted with

thinking how I could be of service to her. What is the use of strength

and skill in arms if I cannot turn them to account in her behalf as my

Lord would have me?... On my way to the Princess', I was told that the

monk, who is the occasion of her sorrow, his sentence being on her

conscience, is to be turned in with the lion to-morrow. As I rode away

from her house in desperate strait, not having it in power to tell my

Lord anything of her, it occurred to me to go see the Cynegion, where

the judgment is to be publicly executed. What if the Most Merciful

should offer me an opportunity to do the unhappy Princess something

helpful? If I shrank from the lion, when killing it would save her a

grief, my Lord would never forgive me ... . Here is a description of

the Cynegion: The northwest wall of the city drops from the height of

Blacherne into a valley next the harbor or Golden Horn, near which it

meets the wall coming from the east. Right in the angle formed by the

intersection of the walls there is a gate, low, very strong, and always

closely guarded. Passing the gate, I found myself in an enclosed field,

the city wall on the east, wooded hills south, and the harbor north.

How far the enclosure extends up the shore of the harbor, I cannot say

exactly--possibly a half or three quarters of a mile. The surface is

level and grassy. Roads wind in and out of clumps of selected

shrubbery, with here and there an oak tree. Kiosk-looking houses,

generally red painted, are frequent, some with roofs, some without.

Upon examination I discovered the houses were for the keeping of

animals and birds. In one there was an exhibition of fish and reptiles.

But much the largest structure, called the Gallery, is situated nearly

in the centre of the enclosure; and it astonished me with an interior

in general arrangement like a Greek theatre, except it is entirely

circular and without a stage division. There is an arena, like a sanded

floor, apparently fifty paces in diameter, bounded by a brick wall

eighteen or twenty feet in height, and from the top of the wall seats

rise one above another for the accommodation of common people; while

for the Emperor I noticed a covered stand over on the eastern side. The

wall of the arena is broken at regular intervals by doors heavily

barred, leading into chambers anciently dens for ferocious animals, but

at present prisons for criminals of desperate character. There are also

a number of gates, one under the grand stand, the others forming

northern, southern and eastern entrances. From this, I am sure my Lord

can, if he cares to, draught the Cynegion, literally the Menagerie,

comprehending the whole enclosure, and the arena in the middle of it,

where the monk will to-morrow expiate his heresy. Formerly combats in

the nature of wagers of battle were appointed for the place, and beasts

were pitted against each other; but now the only bloody amusement

permitted in it is when a criminal or an offender against God is given

to the lion. On such occasions, they tell me, the open seats and grand

stands are crowded to their utmost capacities.... If the description is

tedious, I hope my Lord's pardon, for besides wishing to give him an

idea of the scene of the execution to-morrow, I thought to serve him in

the day he is looking forward to with so much interest, when the

locality will have to be considered with a view to military approach.

In furtherance of the latter object, I beg to put my Lord in possession

of the accompanying diagram of the Cynegion, observing particularly its

relation to the city; by attaching it to the drawings heretofore sent

him, he will be enabled to make a complete map of the country adjacent

to the landward wall.... Ali has just come in. As I supposed, he was

detained by the high winds. His mullets are perfection. With them he

brings a young sword-fish yet alive. I look at the mess, and grieve

that I cannot send a portion to my Lord for his breakfast. However, a

few days now, and he will come to his own; the sea with its fish, and

the land and all that belongs to it. The child of destiny can afford to

wait."

CHAPTER X

SERGIUS TO THE LION

About ten o'clock the day after the date of Count Corti's last

despatch--ten of the morning--a woman appeared on the landing in front

of Port St. Peter, and applied to a boatman for passage to the Cynegion.

She was thickly veiled, and wore an every-day overcloak of brown stuff

closely buttoned from her throat down. Her hands were gloved, and her

feet coarsely shod. In a word, her appearance was that of a female of

the middle class, poor but respectable.

The landing was thronged at the time. It seemed everybody wanted to get

to the menagerie at once. Boatmen were not lacking. Their craft, of all

known models, lay in solid block yards out, waiting turns to get in;

and while they waited, the lusty, half-naked fellows flirted their

oars, quarrelled with each other in good nature, Greek-like, and yelled

volleys at the slow bargain makers whose turns had arrived.

Twice the woman asked if she could have a seat.

"How many of you are there?" she was asked in reply.

"I am alone."

"You want the boat alone?"

"Yes."

"Well, that can't be. I have seats for several--and wife and four

babies at home told me to make the most I could out of them. It has

been some time since one has tried to look old Tamerlane in the eye,

thinking to scare him out of his dinner. The game used to be common;

it's not so now."

"But I will pay you for all the seats."

"Full five?"

"Yes."

"In advance?"

"Yes."

"Jump in, then--and get out your money--fifty-five noumias--while I

push through these howling water-dogs."

By the time the boat was clear of the pack, truly enough the passenger

was with the fare in hand.

"Look," she said, "here is a bezant."

At sight of the gold piece, the man's countenance darkened, and he

stopped rowing.

"I can't change that. You might as well have no money at all."

"Friend," she returned, "row me swiftly to the first gate of the

Cynegion, and the piece is yours."

"By my blessed patron! I'll make you think you are on a bird, and that

these oars are wings. Sit in the middle--that will do. Now!"

The fellow was stout, skilful, and in earnest. In a trice he was under

headway, going at racing speed. The boats in the harbor were moving in

two currents, one up, the other down; and it was noticeable those in

the first were laden with passengers, those of the latter empty.

Evidently the interest was at the further end of the line, and the day

a holiday to the two cities, Byzantium and Galata. Yet of the

attractions on the water and the shores, the woman took no heed; she

said never a word after the start; but sat with head bowed, and her

face buried in her hands. Occasionally, if the boatman had not been so

intent on earning the gold piece, he might have heard her sob. For some

reason, the day was not a holiday to her.

"We are nearly there," he at length said.

Without lifting the veil, she glanced at a low wall on the left-hand

shore, then at a landing, shaky from age and neglect, in front of a

gate in the wall; and seeing it densely blockaded, she spoke:

"Please put me ashore here. I have no time to lose."

The bank was soft and steep.

"You cannot make it."

"I can if you will give me your oar for a step."

"I will."

In a few minutes she was on land. Pausing then to toss the gold piece

to the boatman, she heard his thanks, and started hastily for the gate.

Within the Cynegion, she fell in with some persons walking rapidly, and

talking of the coming event as if it were a comedy.

"He is a Russian, you say?"

"Yes, and what is strange, he is the very man who got the Prince of

India's negro"--

"The giant?"

"Yes--who got him to drown that fine young fellow Demedes."

"Where is the negro now?"

"In a cell here."

"Why didn't they give him to the lion?"

"Oh, he had a friend--the Princess Irene."

"What is to be done with him?"

"Afterwhile, when the affair of the cistern is forgotten, he will be

given a purse, and set free."

"Pity! For what sport to have seen him in front of the old Tartar!"

"Yes, he's a fighter." In the midst of this conversation, the party

came in sight of the central building, externally a series of arches

supporting a deep cornice handsomely balustraded, and called the

Gallery.

"Here we are!--But see the people on the top! I was afraid we would be

too late. Let us hurry."

"Which gate?"

"The western--it's the nearest."

"Can't we get in under the grand stand?"

"No, it's guarded."

These loquacious persons turned off to make the western gate; but the

woman in brown kept on, and ere long was brought to the grand stand on

the north. An arched tunnel, amply wide, ran under it, with a gate at

the further end admitting directly to the arena. A soldier of the

foreign legion held the mouth of the tunnel.

"Good friend," she began, in a low, beseeching tone, "is the heretic

who is to suffer here yet?"

"He was brought out last night."

"Poor man! I am a friend of his"--her voice trembled--"may I see him?"

"My orders are to admit no one--and I do not know which cell he is in."

The supplicant, sobbing and wringing her hands, stood awhile silent.

Then a roar, very deep and hoarse, apparently from the arena, startled

her and she trembled.

"Tamerlane!" said the soldier.

"O God!" she exclaimed. "Is the lion turned in already?"

"Not yet. He is in his den. They have not fed him for three days."

She stayed her agitation, and asked: "What are your orders?"

"Not to admit any one."

"To the cells?"

"The cells, and the arena also."

"Oh, I see! You can let me stand at the gate yonder?"

"Well--yes. But if you are the monk's friend, why do you want to see

him die?"

She made no reply, but took from a pocket a bezant, and contrived to

throw its yellow gleam in the sentinel's eyes.

"Is the gate locked?"

"No, it is barred on this side."

"Does it open into the arena?"

"Yes."

"I do not ask you to violate your orders," she continued, calmly; "only

let me go to the gate, and see the man when he is brought out."

She offered him the money, and he took it, saying: "Very well. I can

see no harm in that. Go."

The gate in question was open barred, and permitted a view of nearly

the whole circular interior. The spectacle presented was so startling

she caught one of the bars for support. Throwing back the veil, she

looked, breathing sighs which were almost gasps. The arena was clear,

and thickly strewn with wet sand. There were the walls shutting it in,

like a pit, and on top of them, on the ascending seats back to the last

one--was it a cloud she beheld? A second glance, and she recognized the

body of spectators, men, women and children, compacted against the sky.

How many of them there were! Thousands and thousands! She clasped her

hands, and prayed.

Twelve o'clock was the hour for the expiation.

Waiting so wearily there at the gate--praying, sighing, weeping by

turns--the woman was soon forgotten by the sentinel. She had bought his

pity. In his eyes she was only a lover of the doomed monk. An hour

passed thus. If the soldier's theory were correct, if she were indeed a

poor love-lorn creature come to steal a last look at the unfortunate,

she eked small comfort from her study of the cloud of humanity on the

benches. Their jollity, their frequent laughter and hand-clapping

reached her in her retreat. "Merciful God!" she kept crying. "Are these

beings indeed in thy likeness?"

In a moment of wandering thought, she gave attention to the fastenings

of the gate, and observed the ends of the bar across it rested in

double iron sockets on the side toward her; to pass it, she had only to

raise the bar clear of the socket and push.

Afterwhile the door of a chamber nearly opposite her opened, and a man

stood in the aperture. He was very tall, gigantic even; and apparently

surprised by what he beheld, he stepped out to look at the benches,

whereat the light fell upon him and she saw he was black. His

appearance called for a roar of groans, and he retired, closing the

door behind him. Then there was an answering roar from a cell near by

at her left. The occupants of the benches applauded long and merrily,

crying, "Tamerlane! Tamerlane!" The woman shrank back terrified.