Читать книгу Saronia - Richard Short - Страница 10

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When Saronia saw that Nika had fallen overpowered, and knew her lot was cast, she felt herself a new creature. Her young blood coursed wildly, and great thoughts trooped through her brain like a force of armed men hastening to war. For a moment reason staggered, but did not fall.

When the tumult of her soul was stayed, she said:

'Has the goddess spoken through me? Am I her beloved? If this be so, why not fly to her sanctuary and trust to her great power? I will away now—even now! I will not question with myself. Farewell, cruel Nika! Farewell, merciless girl! Thou wilt stand in thy lot at the end. I go my way, whither I know not—gloom, night, darkness envelops me. But, chaste Diana, show by thy kindly light the way—I am thine! Behold this tiny crescent graven on my hand when yet a child—true sign my loved ones were the worshippers of Ashtoreth; and now I come to thee, great Goddess Luna, Hecate, Diana, the mother of Nature, adored in Ionia!'

Having passed the threshold of the house, she came down the shaded way, along the side of Mount Coressus.

The tall pines murmured softly their evening hymn; the roadside was covered with great bunches of pink and white flowers; clusters of ripe grapes hung from the trellised vines, and the pomegranate-trees were laden with fruit.

A flock of birds of varied hue flew around her, and an eagle, sporting in the air and clapping its wings, swooped down and sailed from right to left, fairest of omens the gods could give. This she saw, and recognised its import, but the flowers and murmuring pines she heeded not.

Down the lovely way she trod and came to the valley beneath, and joined the crowd passing along the city streets.

From the Odeum came the richest music, pealing forth upon the sultry air, and, breaking into softest harmony, melted into the light.

On, further, until the great theatre burst upon her sight, and then for a moment she stood and rested against the sculptured shaft of a mighty pillar and thought of Chios. Suddenly she was confronted with the wise woman who spoke with her not long ago.

'Whither goest thou, pretty slave? Art thou on a mission for thy mistress? or does that star of thine so quickly lead thee to thy fate? Tell me, girl, whither art thou steering?'

'I cannot tell thee; but I pray thee point the nearest way to the pine and cypress grove nigh to the Temple of Diana.'

'Ah, now I know, and will not betray! Sanctuary! Thou seekest sanctuary, and thou shalt have it if I can aid thee; but no time is to be lost. Rush on as if thy life hung on a single thread. Turn to the right, pass the Stadium, wind quickly around the hill Pion, and thou shalt see the Temple bathed in glorious light, and close to it the sacred grove; but I fear the hour has passed to gain access, and the planet Saturn rules. Hide thee among the trees to-night, and when the sun's first rays appear haste thee to thy refuge. That hour is the hour of Jupiter, the next is that of the Sun; thou shalt prevail, and when thou flourisheth, remember me.'

She moved away, and stealing around the hill with its great Acropolis and fortress walls of iron brick, gained the sacred port, at the head of which, standing broadly against the dying day, appeared the mighty Temple—that Temple which she had so often gazed on from Venusta's home.

It was not far away, but she could not reach it in time to claim security that day. If she ran she would be suspected, and her feet seemed weighted with sandals of lead.

She passed the smaller temples, saw the great ships with gorgeous sails and swinging pendants pass up and down the sacred way, and heard the chant of evening song float forth from many a shrine. Still, on she went, footsore and weary, to find, alas! the door of her asylum closed; then, gazing for a moment at the mighty structure within the parabolus walls, she uttered a faint cry and burst into a flood of tears. Nothing could she do but fly to the grove and pass the night there, and, creeping stealthily away, she moved towards the pines and cypress-trees.

That night there raged a storm. The great clouds in wild masses sailed across the sky like leviathans in the blue-tinted darkness of ocean depths. No moon nor star. The mighty winds swayed the trees, and bent the stoutest of them like reeds. Saronia crouched beneath a giant pine, whose summit seemed to pierce the sky. Faint and shivering, she drew her garments closely around her and fell asleep, only to be awakened by the thunderings which seemed to break the universe in twain with echoes like the voices of the gods in combat. A lightning flash flew down like a haunted fiend and blasted her tree from top to base, but it hurt her not.

And after hours had passed, and the furious winds had sailed out over the deep, the rains descended and drenched her flimsy garment. The stormy winds sank down to a melancholy wail, and played their dirge amongst the branches of the cluster-pine, and the dawn came up from the east and struggled between the dark-green foliage.

Saronia arose and staggered through the long wet grass, heeding not the masses of yellow iris or the flaming poppies. When she arrived at the confines of the grove the light had broken through the gray, and soon she saw the sun, and knew it was her hour.

On she went, with her thin brown garments clinging to her lovely form. For a moment, like a thief, she hung around the entrance gate, and with a wild convulsive moan passed within—to sanctuary!

When the priests went by they saw the fallen form, and thought her dead. They raised her tenderly and led her away.

'Who art thou?' said the chief of the priests.

The girl looked beseechingly at him, and said:

'I am the slave of the Roman Venusta, whose home is on the Mount Coressus. Faithfully have I served her, and would have continued but for her cruelty. Before I saw this city my home was Sidon, in Phœnicia. There also I was a slave as far back as my memory serves me. Who I am I know not——'

'What is thy name?'

'Saronia; and hither have I fled to throw myself on the mercy of the goddess, with the hope that I may serve her.'

Then answered he of the Megalobyzi:

'Thou speakest plainly, and we will inquire into the matter;' and, turning to a priestess standing near, he requested her to protect the girl and give her food.

The young priestess was of exquisite beauty, and her face beamed with rarest charity. Her voice was full of sweetness as she said:

'Maiden, lean on my arm, and let me lead thee to thy rest;' and Saronia heard the chanting of the morning hymn, and felt she had reached her goal—the dearest to her heart.

At Venusta's house, just after the morning meal, a slave delivered to her mistress a message. The Roman autocrat broke the ominous seal, and, turning deathly pale, read out the following: