Part 10

"You have no choice! Wait! I think I can yet provide you with a weapon such as you require! I have for some time observed yonder worthy, whoever he may be, staring at that old bower, as if it contained some enchanted princess," said the pilgrim, emerging slightly from under the shadows of the doorway and beckoning John of the Catacombs to his side. This movement brought the two--for the third seemed to be engaged in a look-out for probable danger--closer to Eckhardt, but luckily without coming in contact with him, for it may be conjectured that he had no desire to expose himself to a conflict in the dark, with three such opponents.

The personage indicated by the disguised pilgrim had indeed for some time been engaged in scrutinizing the form of a young girl, who, seemingly attracted by the novelty of the scene below had appeared behind a window of the apparently deserted house, vainly soliciting her attentions with gestures and smiles. He was of middling height, but very stout and burly of frame, a kind of brutal good humour and joviality being not entirely unmingled with his harsher traits.

"By the mass!" the disguised pilgrim turned to the object of his scrutiny, in whom we recognize no lesser a personage than Gian Vitelozzo, as he cautiously approached and saluted him. "I see your eyes are caught too!"

He winked at the window which seemed to hold the fascination for the other, then nodded approval.

"Saw you ever a prettier piece of flesh and blood?"

"Yet she looks more like a waxen image than a woman of the stuff you mention, Sir Pilgrim," returned the nobleman in a barbarous jargon of tenth century Latin.

"She is poisoned by the stench amid which she lives, and it were charity to take her out of it," replied the pilgrim, with a swift glance at the cross-bow slung over the other's shoulders.

"Ay, by the mass! You speak truth!" affirmed Vitelozzo, while a fourth personage, whom he had not heretofore observed, had during their discourse emerged from the shadows and had silently joined the survey.

"Would the whole Ghetto were put to plunder!" sighed the baron, turning to the pilgrim, "but I am under severe penance now by order of the Vicar of the Church."

"You must indeed have wrought some special deed of grace, to need his intercession," the pilgrim sneered with disgusting familiarity.

Vitelozzo peered into the face of his interlocutor, doubtful whether to resent the pleasantry or to feel flattered. Then he shrugged his shoulders.

"'Twas but for relieving an old man of some few evil days of pains and aches," he then replied carelessly. "But since we are at questioning,--what merit is yours to travel so far with the cockle-shells? Surely 'twas not just to witness the crumbling of this planet into its primeval dust?"

"They say--I killed my brother," replied the disguised pilgrim coldly.

"Mine was but my uncle," said Vitelozzo eagerly, as if rejoicing in the comparative inferiority of his crime. "'Tis true he had pampered me, when a child, but who can wait for ever for an inheritance?"

"Ay--and old men never die," replied the pseudo-pilgrim gloomily. "You are a bold fellow and no doubt a soldier too," he continued, simulating ignorance of the other's rank, in order to gain his point. "I have been a good part of mine a silly monk. As you see, I am still in the weeds. Yet I will wager, that I dare do the very thing, which you are even now but daring to think."

"What am I thinking then? I pray your worship enlighten my poor understanding," replied the nobleman sarcastically.

"You are marking how conveniently those timbers are set to the balcony of yonder crow's nest, for a man to climb up unobserved, and that you would be glad if you could summon the courage to scale it to the scorn of this circumcized mob," said the pilgrim.

Vitelozzo laughed scornfully.

"For the fear of it? I have clambered up many a strong wall with only my dagger's aid, when boiling lead poured down among us like melting snow and the devil himself would have kept his foot from the ladder. But," he concluded as if remembering that it behooved not his own dignity to continue parley with the pilgrim, "who are you, that you dare bandy words with me?"

The pilgrim considered it neither opportune nor discreet to introduce himself.

"My staff against your cross-bow," he replied boastfully instead. "You dare not attempt it and I will succeed in it!"

"By the foul fiend! Not until I have failed," replied Vitelozzo, colouring. "Hold my cross-bow while I climb. But if you mean mischief or deceit, know better than to practise it, for I am not what I seem, but a great lord, who would as soon crack your empty pate as an egg!"

The pseudo-pilgrim replied apparently with some warmth, but as the preacher's tone now rose above the surrounding buzz only the conclusion of his speech was audible, wherein he declared that he would restore the noble's cross-bow or rouse his friends to his assistance in the event of danger. This compact concluded Eckhardt noted that the Roman baron gave his helmet, cross-bow and other accoutrements, which were likely to prove an impediment, into the care of the pilgrim, and prepared to accomplish his insolent purpose.

The disguised pilgrim, whose identity Eckhardt had vainly endeavoured to establish, now retired instantly and rejoined his companions, who had been eagerly listening in their concealment under the doorway. The newcomer, who had for a time swelled their number, had retreated unobserved after having concluded his observations, as it seemed, to his satisfaction, for Eckhardt saw him nod to himself ere he vanished from sight.

"Here then is a weapon, Don Giovan, if you would not rather have the point in your own skull," the pilgrim said, handing the bravo a small bow of peculiar construction which Vitelozzo was wont to carry on his fowling expeditions, as he styled his nightly excursions.

"Moreover," the pilgrim continued encouragingly, noting the manifest reluctance on the part of the bravo, "I have caused you a pretty diversion. When the tumult, which this villain will raise, shall begin, you have but to adjust the arrow and watch the monk's associate. When he raises his hand--let fly!"

John of the Catacombs shivered, but did not reply, while Eckhardt scrutinized the monk indicated by the pilgrim, as well as the glare of the torches and their delusive light would permit. But his face being averted, he again turned his attention to the trio in the shadows below.

The pontifical delegate meanwhile continued his sermon as unconcerned as if his deadliest enemy did not stand close beside him ready to imprint on his brow the pernicious kiss of Judas.

"Fear you aught for your foul carcass and the thing you call your soul?" the pilgrim snarled, seemingly exasperated by the reluctance of the instrument to obey the master's behest. "Fear you for your salvation, when so black a wretch as Vitelozzo--for I know the ruffian, who slew his benefactor,--hazards both for a fool's frolic? The monk is a fair mark! Look but at him perched in the pulpit yonder, with his arms spread out as if he would fly straightway to heaven!"

"He looks like a black crucifixion," muttered the bravo with a shudder.

"Tush, fool! You can easily conceal yourself in these shadows, for the blame will fall on the Jews and the uproar which I will raise at different extremities of the crowd will divert all attention from the perpetrator of the deed!"

John of the Catacombs seemed to yield gradually to the force of the other's arguments. The deed accomplished, it had been agreed that they would dive into the very midst of the congested throngs and urge the inflamed minds to the extermination of the hated race of the Ghetto.

Eckhardt's consternation upon listening to this devilish plot was so great, that for a time he lost sight of the would-be assailant of the young girl, whom he was unable to see from his concealment almost directly beneath the balcony. Again he was staggered by the dilemma confronting him, how best to direct his energies for the prevention of the double crime. To rush forth and, giving a signal to the pontifical guards, to proclaim the intended treachery, would perhaps in any other country, age or place have been sufficient to counteract the plot. But in this case it was most likely to secure the triumph of the offenders. It was far from improbable, that the projectors of this deed of darkness, upon finding their sinister designs baffled, would fall combined upon whosoever dared to cross their path, and silence him for ever ere he had time to reveal their real purpose. In the rancorous irritation and mutually suspicious state of men's minds the least spark might kindle a universal blaze. The fears and hatred of both parties would probably interpret the first flash of steel into a signal for preconcerted massacre and the very consequences sought to be averted would inevitably follow.

A further circumstance which baffled Eckhardt was the cause of the implacable hatred, which the moving spirit of the trio seemed to bear the pontifical delegate. But the sagacious intellect of the man into whose hands fate had so opportunely placed a lever for preventing a crime, whose consequences it was difficult to even surmise, suggested these dangers and their remedies almost simultaneously. Thus he patiently awaited the separation of the colleagues on their several enterprises, regarding the monk with renewed interest in this new and appalling light.

His tall and commanding form was to be seen from every point. The austerity and gloom of the speaker's countenance only seemed to aid in displaying more brilliantly the irradiations of the mind which illumined it. His harangue seemed imbued with something of supernatural inspiration and dark as had appeared to Eckhardt the motive for the contemplated crime, the probable reason suddenly flashed through his mind. For in the pulpit stood Gerbert of Aurillac, Archbishop of Rheims, Bishop of Ravenna, the teacher of the Emperor, the friend of the Pontiff, he who was so soon as Sylvester II to be crowned with the Triple Tiara of St. Peter.

But there was no time for musing if the double crime was to be prevented. For John of the Catacombs, who had now turned his back on the crowds, had possessed himself of Vitelozzo's cross-bow and was tightening the bow-strings. With equal caution, to avoid betraying his presence, Eckhardt unsheathed his sword. But the jar of the blade against the scabbard, though ever so slight, startled the outlaw's attention. He paused for a moment, listening and glancing furtively about. Then he muttered to himself: "A rat," and resumed his occupation, while Eckhardt slowly stepped from his concealment, taking his station directly behind the kneeling bravo, unseen by the pilgrim and the latter's silent companion.

A brilliant glow, emanating from some mysterious source near the monk and which many afterwards contended as having proceeded directly from his person, suddenly illumined not only the square, the pontifical delegate, and the monk, who held his arms aloft as if imploring a benediction, but likewise the towering form of Eckhardt, leaning on his bare and glittering brand.

With a yell as if he had seen a wild beast crouching for its deadly spring, John of the Catacombs sprang up, only to be instantly struck down by a mighty blow from the commander's gauntleted hand. He lay senseless on the ground, covered with blood. The bow had fallen from his grasp. Setting his foot on the outlaw's breast, Eckhardt hesitated for a moment whether to rid Rome of so monstrous a villain, or spare him, in order to learn the real instigators of the crime, when a piercing shriek from above convinced him that while the bravo had failed, the high-born ruffian had been more successful.

There was no time for parley.

Trampling with his crushing weight over the bravo's breast Eckhardt turned towards the spot whence the cry of distress had come. An intense hush fraught with doubts and fears had fallen upon the monk's audience at the ominous outcry,--a cry which might have been but the signal for some preconcerted outrage, and the hush deepened when the tall powerful form of the German leader was seen stalking toward the deserted house and entering it through a door, which Gian Vitelozzo had forced, the obstacle which had luckily prevented him from reaching before his unsuspecting victim. The ruffian could be seen from below, holding in his arms on the balcony the shrieking and struggling girl, disregarding in his brutal eagerness all that passed below. Suddenly his shoulder was grasped as in the teeth of a lion, and so powerful was the pressure that the noble's arms were benumbed and dropped powerlessly by his side. Before he recovered from his surprise and could make one single effort at resistance, Eckhardt had seized him round the waist and hurled him down on the square amidst a roaring thunder of applause mingled with howls of derision and rage. Those immediately beneath the balcony, consisting chiefly of the scum and rabble, who cared little for the monk's arguments, rejoiced at the prompt retribution meted out to one of their oppressors, though the discomfiture of the hapless victim had left them utterly indifferent. Why should they carry their skin to market to right another's wrong?

Thus they offered neither obstacle nor assistance when the Roman baron, in no wise hurt by his fall, as the balcony was at no great height from the ground, rose in a towering rage and challenged his assailant to descend and to meet him in mortal combat. But by this time the disturbance had reached the monk's ears, and at once perceiving the cause from his lofty point of vantage, Gerbert shouted to his audience to secure the brawler in the name of God and the Church. The mob obeyed, though swayed by reluctance and doubts, while the pontifical guards closed round the offending noble to cut off his escape. But Gian Vitelozzo seemed to possess sovereign reasons for dreading to find himself in the custody of the Vicar of the Church and promptly took to flight.

Overthrowing the first who opposed him, the rest offering no serious resistance, he forced his way to one of the narrow passages of the Ghetto, fled through it, relinquishing his accoutrements and vanished in the shadows, which haunted this dismal region by day and by night. But Gerbert of Aurillac was not to be so easily baffled. He had recognized the Roman baron despite his demeaning attire. With a voice of thunder he ordered his entire following to the ruffian's pursuit, and noting the direction in which Vitelozzo had disappeared, he leaped, despite his advanced years, from his pulpit and waving a cross high in the air, led the pursuit in person, which inaugurated a general stampede of nobles, Jews, pilgrims, monks and the ever-present rabble of Rome.

This unforeseen incident having drawn off the crowd, which had invaded the Ghetto, in the preacher's wake, the great square was quickly deserted and the torches in the high windows were extinguished as if a sudden wind-storm had snuffed out their glowing radiance.

*CHAPTER X*

*THE SICILIAN DANCER*

After a fruitless search for the hapless victim of the Roman baron's licentiousness, in order to restore her in safety to her kindred or friends, Eckhardt concluded at last that she had found a haven of security and turned his back upon the Ghetto and its panic-stricken inmates without bestowing another thought upon an incident, in itself not uncommon and but an evidence of the deep-rooted social disorder of the times. His thoughts reverted rather to the attempt upon the life of the pontifical delegate, which some happy chance had permitted him to frustrate, but in vain did he try to fathom the reasons prompting a deed, the accomplishment of which seemed to hold out such meagre promise of reward to its perpetrators, whose persons were enshrouded in a veil of mystery. Eckhardt could only assign personal reasons to an attempt, which, if successful, could not enrich the moving spirits of the plot, a consideration always uppermost in men's minds, and pondering thus over the strange events, the commander aimlessly pursued his way in a direction opposite to the one the monk and his following had chosen for the pursuit of the baron. How long he had thus strolled onward, he knew not, when he found himself in the space before the Capitol. The moon gleamed pale as an alabaster lamp in the dark azure of the heavens, trembling luminously on the waters of a fountain which flowed from beneath the Capitoline rock.

Here some scattered groups of the populace sat or lolled on the ground, discussing the events of the day, jesting, laughing or love-making. Others paraded up and down, engaged in conversation and enjoying the balmy night air, tinged with the breath of departing summer.

Wearied with thought, Eckhardt made his way to the fountain, and, seated on the margin regardless of the chattering groups which continually clustered round it and dispersed, he felt his spirits grow calm in the monotony of the gurgling flow of the water, which was streaming down the rock and spurting from several grotesque mouths of lions and dolphins. The stars sparkled over the dark, towering cypresses, which crowned the surrounding eminences, and the palaces and ruins upon them stood forth in distinctness of splendour or desolation against the luminous brightness of the moonlit sky.

Eckhardt's ruminations were interrupted by the sound of a tambourine, and looking up from his reverie, he perceived that the populace were gathering in a wide circle before the fountain, attracted by the sound of the instrument. In the background, kept thus remote by the vigilance of an old woman and two half-savage Calabrians, who seemed to be the proprietors of the show, stood a young woman in the garb of a Sicilian, apparently just preparing to dance. She seemed to belong to a class of damsels who were ordained under severe penalties to go masked during all religious festivals, to protect the pilgrims from the influence of their baleful charms. Else there could be no reason why an itinerant female juggler or minstrel who employed the talents, which the harmonious climate of Italy lavishes on its poorest children, to enable them to earn a scant living from the rude populace, should affect the modesty or precaution of a mask. But her tall, voluptuous form as she stood collecting her audience with the ringing chimes of her tambourine, garbed as she was in that graceful Sicilian costume, which still retains the elegance of its Greek original, proved allurement enough despite her mask. While thus unconsciously diverting his disturbed fancies, Eckhardt became aware, that he had himself attracted the notice of the dancer, for he encountered her gaze beaming on him from the depths of her green-speckled mask, which its ordainer had intended to represent the corruption of disease, but which the humour of the populace had transmuted into a more pleasant association, by calling them, "Cardinal melons."

The dancer started from her somewhat listless attitude into one of gayety and animation, when she saw how earnestly the dark stranger scrutinized her, and tripping across the intervening space, she paused before him and said in a voice whose music flowed to his heart in its mingled humility and tenderness:

"Sainted Stranger! Will you disdain dancing the Tarantella with a poor Sicilian sinner for the love of Santa Rosalia?"

"Thou art like to make many for the love of thyself," replied Eckhardt. "But it were little seemly to behold a sinner in my weeds join in the dance with one in thine."

As he spoke, he peered so intently into the masked visage of the Sicilian dancer, that she precipitately retreated.

"Nay--then I must use my spells," she replied after a moment's thought, and glancing round the circle, which was constantly increasing, she added slowly, "my spells to raise the dead, since love and passion are dead in your consecrated breast! Mother--my mandolin!"

The smile of her lips seemed to gleam even through her mask as she threw her tambourine by its silver chain over her shoulders, taking instead the instrument, which one of the Calabrians handed to her. Tuning her mandolin she again turned to Eckhardt.

"But first you must fairly answer a question, else I shall not know which of my spells to use: for with some memory alone avails,--with others hope."

And without waiting his reply, she began to sing in a voice of indescribable sweetness. After the second stanza she paused, apparently to await the reply to her question, while a murmur of delight ran through the ranks of her listeners. The first sound of her voice had fixed Eckhardt's attention, not alone for its exquisite purity and sweetness, but the strange, mysterious air which hovered round her, despite her demeaning attire.

Yet his reply partook of the asperity of his Northern forests.

"Deem you such gossamer subtleties were likely to find anchorage in this restless breast, which, you hear, I strike and it answers with the sound of steel?"

"Nay, then so much the worse for you," replied the dancer. "For where the pure spirit comes not,--the dark one will," and she continued her song in a voice of still more mellow and alluring sweetness.

Suddenly she approached him again, her air more mysterious than ever.

"Ah!" she whispered. "And I could teach you even a sweeter lesson,--but you men will never learn it, as long as women have been trying to teach it on earth."

"Wherefore then wear you this mask?" questioned Eckhardt with a severity in his tone, which seemed to stagger the girl.

"To please one greater than myself," the dancer replied with a mock bow, which produced a general outburst of laughter.

"Well then,--what do you want with me? Why do you shrink away?"

"Nay,--if you will not dance with me, I must look for another partner, for my mother grows impatient, as you may see by the twirling of her girdle," replied the girl pettishly. "I never cared who it was before,--and now simply because I like you, you hate me."

"You know it is the bite of the poison spider, for which the Tarantella is the antidote," spoke Eckhardt sternly.

Without replying the girl began her dance anew, flitting before her indifferent spectator in a maze of serpentine movements, at once alluring and bewildering to the eye. And to complete her mockery of his apathy, she continued to sing even during all the vagaries of her dance.

The crowd looked on with constantly increasing delight testifying its enthusiasm with occasional outbursts of joyful acclamation. Showers of silver, even gold, which fell in the circle, showed that the motley audience had not exhausted its resources in pious contributions, and the coins were greedily gathered in by the old woman and her comrades, while several nobles who had joined the concourse whispered to the hag, gave her rings and other rich pledges, all of which she accepted, repaying the donors with the less substantial coin of promise.