Suddenly the foremost of them saw the body of the High Priest. He stood aghast. By this time the others came up and stood around, horror-stricken at the sight.
"Who has done this?" said a stalwart Ionian, with curly hair and sparkling eyes.
"Great Jupiter!" cried another. "Who has committed the foul deed?"
"A priest--a priest of rank!" exclaimed the third. "See the insignia of office!"
For a moment they knew not what to do. Their position was critical. One suggested they might be suspected of the murder, and they had better get on board their boat and float lower down the stream, keeping silence.
Others were for going to the city and publishing the calamity, and this prevailed. And they hastened on, and made it known to the guard.
The news of the murder of the Chief Priest of the Temple burst like a thunder-cloud, and spread with great rapidity until Ephesus and its environs rang with the tidings. Messengers hastened along the coast from Teos and Claros to Priene, and over the Meander to the Carian Miletus, to Magnesia and Mysa through to Sardis and Smyrna, in hopes by spreading the news that the murderer, if fled the city, might be taken.
The Agora, Gymnasium, Odeum, Theatre--all the public places were closed.
Silence seemed dropping from the heavens and casting out the joys of the people as they hung in groups and spoke in whispers.
As the day pa.s.sed, the feeling of melancholy wore off, and intense excitement set in. The worshippers of Diana clamoured for instant action, and blamed those who held power for not already capturing the criminal.
Those of sounder judgment cast about for a motive for this deed, but they also were baffled. What business had the priest at night by the river side? Again, a thief had not killed him: everything of value remained upon his person; his jewels were untouched, even to the sacred Ephesian letters set in diamonds and rubies, and the sacred symbol of the shrine in gold and opals fell over his breast in sight of all. There was a great mystery about it. Some few dared to think within themselves that love and jealousy might clear it.
Then it was remembered a custom existed backwards in the years that when a new High Priest was intended to be, the new should slay the old and take his place. And this satisfied many, whilst others who had desired to persecute the Christians clearly saw their hands in the matter, and preached a general ma.s.sacre.
At the Temple there was sore distress. Priests went to and fro with silent tread, and the great building resounded with cries and lamentations. The great Priestess Saronia wore on her face a death-like calmness.
She had heard of the fishermen finding the body, and remembered the shriek which arose on the gusty air. She dared not speak; it would sound her own death-knell. She could not confess her presence at the margin of the river that fatal night.
Her lips were sealed, her tongue silenced. But dark suspicions floated through her burning brain. Endora knew of this foul matter. Chios was innocent, but during his absence from her the woman must have told him all, and both held the secret.
All this was too horrible to Saronia. Wild, heaving waves of furious thought rushed through her soul, threatening to engulf her reason, but like a shivering barque she determined to struggle through the breakers to the open sea and know the end.
The Temple was desolate, the High Priest gone away for ever; but little did she know his death had saved her life, and the life of her beloved.
CHAPTER XL
TWO MASTER MINDS
The stars were shining softly through the mists of a summer night; the moon had touched the western rim; the winds were sleeping low upon the pine-clad hills, and Nature, weary, lay in sweet repose.
On such a night, a week since the High Priest met his fate, Saronia went up the side of Pion to the cave of Endora.
Disguised as she was, Chios did not know her, and she might have pa.s.sed by unknown had she not turned towards the place where he waited to receive her.
She entered, and sat down wearily. There was great anxiety in her eyes.
Chios unfastened the cloak which enveloped her and let it fall back over her shoulders.
"What ails thee, Saronia?"
"What ails me? My heart is rending; I am weary. The soul truly never grows old, but the flesh tires. I am tired of all, and would I were at rest. The surges ever move towards the strand, sometimes gently like the breaking of the day; but with me always the waves beat ruthlessly around my imprisoned spirit, until now, like a drowning man clinging to the last vestige of his wrecked ship, I would fain let go my hold, and sink backwards into the seething waves which wait to engulf me."
"Do not despair, Saronia."
"No, I do not despair. I have ever sought to do the right and know the truth, and fear not the future.
"I must find the home best suited for this soul, as I have evolved it, but I feel I have no power to go forward, and I may as well cease my yearnings for light. Perchance more may be meted to me in the ages beyond. That I shall live again and move onwards I know. I know this: it is the jewel left me--it is the anchor of my soul. Break the cordage which fastens me to it, and I drift aimless, hopelessly."
"Nay, nay, Saronia, do not talk in such a strain. What weighs so heavily on thee?"
"The death of the High Priest. Canst thou clear the mystery, Chios?"
He looked towards Endora. The woman stood leaning against the side of the cave, with eyes aglow, and burning with desire to speak. She stood forth, firmly erect, with head thrown back.
"I slew him, lady--slew him in self-defence; killed him to save the truest, n.o.blest woman on earth, and the man who loveth her, Chios the Greek. He would have strangled me, would have wrenched thy whereabouts from me--did try--until his iron grip upon my throat well-nigh put out my life. Now listen, mighty priestess, and you cultured man of Ephesus.
The man I slew killed my love and spirit"s aspirations years ago--long ago. The dead priest, who rose to be the highest in Asia, was _my husband_--the husband of Endora!"
"Thy husband?" exclaimed Saronia.
"Yea, it is true. He left me to my fate. I followed him hither, watched his career, and saw the people of Ephesus fooled with his whining hypocrisy. He knew me not until the fated night. When he fell I stooped and whispered in his ear my name, but _it was not Endora_! Thou heard"st the second shriek? The whisper of my name caused it. He shattered my life and left me to die; but I did not die, neither will I for his death. My line of life is not broken. I wait events."
Saronia was speechless, and Chios quivered like a leaf on a restless tree. Gathering strength, he staggered towards the door to breathe the air, and the two women were left alone.
Endora felt the power of the priestess, and dared not speak.
"Hast thou told Chios who thou art? Does he know thou art his mother, and by thine own hand thou hast slain his sire?"
"No, and the secret kills me. Oh that I could die, disappear from the gaze of my son! Thou canst fancy my bursting soul, how my heart aches to hear one loving word from my only child! No, no; this cannot be. Endora, Myrtile the false, accursed, bloodstained, must never be known to Chios, my son, my son! But when I am gone--it will not be long--when I have finished here, tell him--tell him all, and that to the last my longing soul yearned to behold his manly face. Tell him that a mother"s instincts, a mother"s love, deadened by the curse, still dwelt within me. Mighty Saronia, thou wilt be left to him. Give him the love which a mother could not reveal. As I have said, I shall soon be on my great journey--yea, before the leaves fall from the trees in autumn.
"Now to business. Intendest thou to deliver me to be weighed in the scales of justice?"
"No. I mourn over the fatal act. "Twas done in self-defence. I will not interfere. Wert thou tried, no one would believe thee. I do. My betrayal of thee would rest a murder on my own soul. The Fates must rule. Go thy way, and render thine account in the great hereafter. The G.o.ds will judge thee, and mete out justice. Keep thy counsel. "Tis better none should know who thou art. Should I outlive thee, I will tell him, and say, blackened as thou art, cursed and full of sin, there was yet a spark of the Divine in thee, a spark which anon shall fire and blaze and burn the dross, and leave thee pure and unsullied as the air in which the G.o.ds dwell."
Chios returned within the cave. The women were silent, until the silence was broken by the footfall of a stranger. It was Judah the Christian.
"What a strange gathering!" murmured Chios, as he went forth to meet his friend.
Endora glided out like a panther, leaving the two men alone with the priestess.
Saronia drew her black cloak closely around her, covering her priestly robes.
Judah knew her. "Lady of the Temple, thou art safe. Speak; I will not betray thee. Thou art not the first who came in this way. A young ruler in Judea came to my Master by night and learned of Him, and what thou wilt hear from me are the echoes of that Master"s voice. Say on."
Then answered Saronia. "Behold in me a priestess of the G.o.ddess Diana, skilled in the mysteries of her faith, touching the fringe of knowledge as it emanates from my divine mistress, carrying with me a belief h.o.a.ry with the ages. But a short time since it permeated every cranny of my being, leaving no room for doubt until I heard from Chios thou hadst won him to thy faith. Knowing Chios well, and observing his peace, the things thou hast told him now rise for hearing in my soul. Judah, if thou hast more of truth than I, then show it me! I have power--power to cast around us darkness--thick darkness--and anon fill this darkened cave with spirits of fire, so that it shall blaze with light! Believest thou this? I do not boast to show this power, but to prove I seek not power, but truth and peace. Speak."
Then said he: "Thou hast no power here. Thou art shorn of thy strength.
The presence of my G.o.d is too strong! Invoke thy G.o.ddess, or thy G.o.ds; they will be dumb to thee. I challenge thee, invoke thy spirits! Call them hither, they will be as dead men to thee!"