Children of the Dawn Part 9

As she looked across the sunlit waters the maiden sighed, and turned wearily to an old dame who sat spinning in a corner of the room.

"Good mother," she said, "how many years didst thou say we two have lived in this wave-washed tower?"

"'Tis close on twenty years, my dear, since I brought thee here, a tiny babe in my arms."

"Twenty years!" sighed the maiden. "Twenty centuries had pa.s.sed by more swiftly in the bright busy world out yonder. How long is a woman's life, good nurse?"

"With the blessing of Heaven she may live for four score years, my child."

"Four score years--four times as long as I have lived already! I can well dispense with the blessing of Heaven."

"Nay; hush, hus.h.!.+" cried the old woman, and stopped her spinning hastily. "What ails thee, Hero? Thou wast never wont to speak such dreadful words."

The girl threw herself on her knees beside her, and laid her head upon her lap and sobbed. The old nurse drew her fingers tenderly over her long black hair, and waited for the storm of pa.s.sion to be spent.

"I am tired--tired of this lonely life," sobbed the maiden. "Why am I shut up here, all alone?"

"Thou knowest the reason full well, my child. If thou goest forth into the world, a great sorrow will come upon thee, and drive thee to death in the flower of thy youth. Such was the oracle of the G.o.ds concerning thee. Thy mother--poor young thing!--scarce lived to hold thee to her breast, and when she died she put thee in my arms. 'Take her away, nurse, far from the haunts of men, and never let her out into the cruel world. Go, live with her in some lonely tower by the sea, and make her a priestess to pitiless, foam-born Aphrodite. Night and day, as soon as she can lisp a baby prayer, let her burn incense before the altar of the G.o.ddess, and perchance she will have mercy on her, and save her from her fate. Full well I know that 'tis with her it rests to strike down my child or to save her, even as it was she, the G.o.ddess of Love, who laid her cruel hand on me, so that now I lie a-dying. Ah! save my child from the fate that has been mine.' I did as she bade me, and surely we have not been unhappy, thou and I, together, all these years?"

And she stroked the girl's cheek tenderly, and sighed as she thought how, for many months past, it had grown paler week by week.

"Ah, think me not ungrateful!" cried Hero. "Thou knowest that I love thee, and would never leave thee. But my heart is restless, and I long to set foot beyond this tower and see a great town and streets and the faces of my fellow-men."

Then she rose from her knees, and led the old nurse to the window.

"There!" she cried, pointing towards Sestos; "dost thou see where the white highway runs down into the city--how a crowd of pilgrims throng towards the gate? See, too, the steep pathway that winds upwards from the harbour--how the folk move ever one way, up, up, to the temple of Aphrodite on the hill! How often have I watched them year by year as they gather together for the great feast of Adonis! Yet I, who all my life long have been Aphrodite's priestess--I have never been inside her temple or joined with those who throng from far and wide to pay her wors.h.i.+p at this glad season. Verily, the G.o.ddess hath good cause to be angered with me if I neglect her dues. Good nurse, let me go to-morrow and join in the procession of the maidens, and let me lay my tribute of flowers before her altar, that she may bless me and save me from my evil fate."

But the old nurse was very troubled at her words.

"My child, thou hast thine own shrine within the house where thou canst burn incense and offer up flowers to Aphrodite. She will answer thy prayers as well from here as from the crowded temple in the town."

"Then why do men build her great pillared temples, and throng from far and near to keep her feast, if the fireside shrine and the simple prayer would please her as well? Nay, she loveth rich gifts and music and singing and the heads of many bowing as one man before her image.

Ah, nurse, let me go--let me go."

"My child, why wouldst thou go when thou knowest that the world can only bring thee sorrow? Stay here with me in peace."

"Nay, there is no peace here for me. Aphrodite is angry, and she will slay me by a slow and cruel death if I do not keep her feast this year. Should I, her priestess, stay away, when even the meanest of the folk gather together in her honour? All these years I have not gone, and now she will stay her hand no more. As for the world and its cruelty, fear not for that. Thou thyself shalt go with me, and stay by my side till I join the procession of priestesses and maidens. Then I will go up with them to the temple, and in their midst I shall be as far from the world as in this tower. I long to stand within the great white temple and hear the chanting of the priests. I long to see the gleaming image of the G.o.ddess, and the statue of the risen Adonis, and the altars sweet with incense and flowers. Ah, nurse, let me go, and all the rest of the year, till the glad season comes round once more, I will stay with thee in this tower and pine no more."

So piteously did she beg that the old nurse had not the heart to refuse, though she feared what might come of it. But she tried to comfort herself with the thought that perchance, after all, the maiden was right, and that Aphrodite was killing her by a slow and cruel death, because she had never kept her solemn feast-day.

The next day broke bright and fair, and Hero, as she looked out from the window, was filled with joy. In the grey dawn she had risen, and sat looking anxiously across the narrow sea towards Abydos and the low line of hills on the further sh.o.r.e.

"O Helios," she prayed, "bright and beautiful, s.h.i.+ne down upon the earth this day, and fill the hearts of all with gladness; for it is Aphrodite's solemn feast, and the greatest day of all my life."

And her prayer was not unanswered. Slowly the grey dawn turned to saffron, and the golden disc of the sun rose over the silent hills and scattered the rosy clouds north and south before him. With a cry of joy Hero turned away from the window and ran to rouse the old dame in the other room.

"Nurse, nurse!" she cried, "the sun is s.h.i.+ning, and the world has awaked from sleep. It is time to pick the roses and the lilies fresh with dew and weave them into garlands for the G.o.ddess. Come up, up, and out with me to the garden."

Without waiting for an answer, she tripped down the turret-stair and out into the garden, and the old nurse sighed and followed slowly behind. In the golden morning they gathered the roses and lilies, and wove them into garlands and posies, and heaped up the loose flowers in baskets. When all was ready they set out for the town. Though it was yet early, the streets were thronged with pilgrims and folk hurrying this way and that to the houses of their friends and kinsmen. Yet, despite the bustle and confusion, there were few who had not leisure to turn and watch the maiden and the old woman hastening along.

"It is Hebe come down from the courts of heaven," they said--"she who giveth to the deathless G.o.ds eternal youth and joy. None can look on her face and be sad."

And, indeed, all the suns.h.i.+ne of the morning seemed reflected in Hero's face, so glad at heart was she. It was small wonder that men turned and looked at her; for she walked as one of the Immortals, full of dignity and grace. No evil thing had ever touched her or left its mark upon her soul. But in a fair garden she had grown to womanhood, where the breeze made music in the plane-trees and the waves beat time upon the sh.o.r.e, and on the hill behind, the tall dark cypress-trees kept silent watch above her. No angry word had ever reached her ears, but as long as she had lived the love of one faithful heart had s.h.i.+elded her. And now, though she knew it not, the call of life had come to her, as it comes to every living thing, and with eager, open arms she was answering it. In the midst of that bustling city crowd, she was like a fair flower that brings into some restless sick-room the scent of sunlit meadows and the murmur of dancing streams. As she went she laughed and talked merrily to the old nurse beside her, and ever and anon a flower would fall to the ground from the laden basket she was carrying; and one of the crowd would quickly pick it up and place it in his bosom, and carry away in his heart something of the music of her laughter and the suns.h.i.+ne of her eyes. The old nurse when she saw it was filled with fear, and hastened faster along; but Hero saw none of these things, nor knew that she was different from other folk.

At length they reached the temple on the hill and went into the chamber where Aphrodite's priestesses and maidens were to meet; and they clad her in long white robes, and put a garland on her head. When all were ready, they went and stood before the priest of the temple, and he told them in what order they should walk. First came little children, who scattered rose-leaves in the path, and behind them followed maidens, playing upon pipes, and singing the hymn to Adonis and Aphrodite. Next came the priest himself, and on either side of him two maidens walked, and held above his head great fans of peac.o.c.k's plumes. After him followed the long procession of priestesses and maidens, incense-bearers, and the keepers of the sacred doves. Last of all came Hero, bearing in her hands a garland of roses and lilies to lay at the feet of the great white statue of the G.o.ddess. Each year the fairest of the maidens was chosen for this task, and in all that throng of youth and beauty there was none more fair than she. With her eyes upon the gleaming statue that shone from the dark recess above the heads of the wors.h.i.+pping people, she walked as one in a dream.

About her the smoke of the incense rose, and to her ears the voices of the singers sounded low and far away as they sang,

"All hail to thee, Aphrodite, foam-born Queen of Love! Adonis, all hail to thee! Thou art risen--thou art risen on this joyful day. No more doth Death detain thee in his dark domain, nor Persephone enshroud thee in the mists of the sad Underworld. But thou art come back to the daylight and the flowers; and Aphrodite has dried her tears. For once more by thy side, O fairest of mortal men, she wanders through green glades and echoing caverns and by the sh.o.r.e of the silver sea. The joy of her love has kindled the light of summer suns, and like the west wind in the roses, her breath stirs gently in the hearts of men, and the eyes of every living thing reflect the brightness of her smile. All hail to thee. Aphrodite! Adonis and Aphrodite, all hail!"

As they sang, the choir of maidens parted this way and that, and Hero walked up between them bearing the garland in her hands. When she had laid it at the feet of the statue, the procession formed once more, and, with music and singing, they marched round the colonnade to the shrine of Adonis, and all the people followed after. Still Hero walked as one in a dream, and when the procession halted, she turned into a small recess and leant against a pillar to rest; for her part was done, and the people pressed so close about her in the aisle that she was glad to stand aside till the procession moved again. With her eyes closed, she drank in the sweet scent of the incense and flowers, and listened to the chanting of the choir, as they sang of the love of Adonis and Aphrodite. How Adonis, the beautiful shepherd, the fairest of mortal men, was loved by the Queen of Beauty, and all the long summer days they shepherded his flocks together on the shady slopes of Ida. But there came a time when the people of the country held a great hunt, and chased the wild boar through grove and dale till he was brought to bay in the greenwood; and foremost of those who rushed in to the death was Adonis. But the boar in his agony turned round upon him and pierced him in the thigh with his tusk, and wounded unto death, his followers bore him away and laid him in the shade of an oak. With a wild cry of sorrow Aphrodite came and knelt beside him, and tried to call him back to life, but his head fell limp upon her breast. The red drops of his blood were mingled with her tears, and both turned to flowers as they fell upon the ground--his blood to the crimson rose, and her tears to the pale, drooping windflower. All through the woods and the echoing hills a cry of mourning was heard, "Adonis, Adonis! O weep for Adonis! Adonis is dead." But though his spirit had crossed the gloomy river and fled to the dark halls of Hades, yet Death was not strong enough to hold him. The voice of his love and of Aphrodite's pleaded together, and heaven and earth, and the world of the dead, were moved by their prayer. Even the heart of Pluto, the black-browed G.o.d of Death, was touched, and he said that for only four months in the year must Adonis dwell beneath the earth, but for the other eight he might live his old life with Aphrodite in the sunlight. So he chose the season of the flowery spring-time to come back to his love each year, and only the cold dark months of winter did he spend in the land below. So did a great love prevail and conquer even the black lord of Death.

As Hero listened to the well-known tale, her heart was moved, and she felt that if ever she loved, her love would be as the love of Adonis and Aphrodite--stronger than death; and she sighed as she remembered how she must live lonely all her days in the tower by the sea.

As though in answer to her sigh, she felt a light touch upon her arm, and, raising her head, she found herself face to face with a young man. She was about to turn away in anger and return to her place in the procession, but the look of his eyes held her spellbound, so full of fire and yet so sad were they. For a moment she stood gazing at him, and the fire of his eyes seemed to light another in her heart and set her whole frame aglow. The hot blood rushed to her face, and she lowered her eyes in confusion, and her limbs trembled beneath her, so that she leant back against the pillar for support.

"I ask your pardon, gentle lady," said the man; "forgive my rudeness.

Though thou knowest me not, I have known thee for many a long year, and day and night have I prayed the G.o.ds that I might meet thee face to face. This day Aphrodite has heard my prayer. If I have seemed presumptuous, forgive me. 'Twas the G.o.ddess nerved my arm to touch thee."

And he stood with bowed head before her, awaiting her reply.

[Ill.u.s.tration: She lowered her eyes in confusion, and her limbs trembled beneath her so that she leant back against the pillar for support.]

"Who art thou, stranger?" asked Hero. "Thou mistakest me, surely, for some other maid. Never till this day have I set foot beyond my tower, and to that lonely spot cometh no man, nor have I ever spoken with such as thee before."

"My name is Leander," said the stranger, "and I dwell in white Abydos across the water. Full well do I know thy lonely tower; for as I ply to and fro between Sestos and Abydos on my father's business, I pa.s.s close beneath its walls, and day by day have I seen thee sitting at thy window looking out across the sea. Ah, lady, be not angry with me!

The first day I saw thee thy beauty set my heart aflame, and since then I have lived for thee alone."

"Thy words stir me strangely, sir," answered Hero. "I know not what to say to thee."

"Thou art not angry, then?" he cried. "Thou wilt let me speak my love?

Ah, maiden, all these years have I loved thee with a true heart's devotion! If my love could find but ever so faint an answer in thy heart, I would be content."

And he raised his eyes full of hope and joy to her face. But she turned aside her head to hide the answering fire of her eyes.

"Alas, sir!" she said, "mine is a heart that must never beat for any living man. I am doomed to dwell in yonder tower lonely all my days, for if I go forth and mix with the world, I shall die by the curse of Heaven before my time."

"I have heard thy tale, lady; for even the most secret things are noised abroad by rumour. Far be it from me to bring the curse upon thy head. If thou couldst give me thy love, there would be no need for thee to come forth into the world. I have thought of that. Each day we would live our lives as we have done till now. But at night, when none would miss me, I would come to thee. No living soul should know my secret--no, nor yet the lifeless boards of my boat; for even dumb wood can tell a tale if need be. Nay, these two arms shall bear me. Look not fearful, lady. Full often have they borne me to and fro across this narrow sea from mere love of sport. With thee as the prize they would bear me twice as far."

As he spoke he held them out towards her, and, indeed, they were goodly arms to look upon, and his face and form did them no shame either.

Then Hero raised her eyes and looked him full in the face.

"Leander," she said, "I know not what charm or magic thou hast used, but I am as clay in thy hands. 'Tis not thy words have conquered me; in thy reasoning I could find many a flaw. Though one short hour ago I had never seen thee, yet now I feel that I have known thee always, and that life apart from thee were worse than death."

"Ah, Hero!" he cried, and took her hand in his; "the G.o.ds have heard my prayer. Though thine eyes had never seen me, the voice of my heart reached thee long ago, and thy soul came out to mine. 'Twas in answer to my call that thou didst come to-day to the feast; for I prayed to Aphrodite to move thy heart, or I knew not how I should ever speak to thee. This very night, beloved, I will come to thee, and the light which thou burnest in thy chamber shall be my guiding star."

"Ah, how carefully will I trim that torch to-night!" she said, "that it may burn brightly for thee. Every evening I put it there as a beacon-light for the s.h.i.+ps that pa.s.s in the night; but to-night it shall burn for thee--for thee alone."

Now the service was ended before the shrine, and the train of people began to move once more. With one last look and a pressing of hands they parted, and Hero returned to her place in the procession.