The Sorceress of Rome

"What have I done!" he gasped, grasping his forehead with both hands. "What have I done!"

Was it a presentiment that suddenly rushed over Him, prompting him to retrace his steps, prompting him to take back his request? For a moment he wavered. His pride and his love struggled for supremacy, – but pride conquered. He would not have Stephania think that he feared a rival on earth. He would not have her believe that he questioned her love.

After Crescentius had departed from the chamber, Stephania gazed long and wistfully into the starlit night without, so calm and so serene.

Then a laugh, wild and shrill, broke from her lips, and sinking back among her cushions, a shower of tears came to her relief.

CHAPTER IX

THE SERMON IN THE GHETTO

The Contubernium Hebræorum, as it is loftily styled in the pontifical edicts of the time, the Roman Ghetto, was a district of considerable extent, reclaimed originally from the swamps of the Tiber at the foot of the Capitoline Hill, and surrounded either by lofty walls, or houses which were not permitted to have even a loop-hole to the exterior. Five massive gates, guarded by the halberdiers of the Roman magistrate were opened at sun-rise and closed at sun-set to emit and to receive back their jealously guarded inmates, objects of unutterable contempt and loathing with the populace, into whose heart the Catholic Church of the Middle Ages had infused a veneration and love for the person of the Redeemer rather than for his attributes, and whose passions and devotions were as yet unalloyed by the skepticism and indifference which began to pervade the higher ranks of society in the century of the Renaissance.

Three or four times a year, a grand attempt at conversion was made, the Pope appointing the most renowned ecclesiastics to deliver the sermons.

On the occasion about to be described towards the end of the year 999, the Jews had good reason to expect a more than commonly devout throng in the train of the pontifical delegate. They had prepared accordingly. Upon entering the gates of the Ghetto the beholder was struck with the dreary and melancholy aspect of the houses and the emptiness of the little shops which appeared like holes in the walls. Such precious wares as they possessed had been as carefully concealed as those they had abstracted on the eve of their departure from Egypt. The exceeding narrowness of the streets, which were in some parts scarcely wide enough to allow two persons to walk abreast, and seemed in a manner arched, in-as-much as one story extended above the others, increased the disagreeable effect. Noisome smells greeted the nostrils on every turn and the flutter of rags from numerous dark lattices seemed to testify to the poverty within.

Such the Roman Ghetto appeared on the eve of the great harangue for which the reigning Pontiff, Gregory V, had, in accordance with the tradition of the Holy See, delegated the most renowned light of the church. Not a Jew was to be seen, much less a Jewess, throughout the whole line of march from the gates of the Ghetto to the large open square where they held their markets, and where they had been summoned to assemble in mass. The long narrow and intricate windings misled many who did not keep pace with the Pope's delegate and his attendants, but the greater part of the rabble rushed into the square like a mountain stream, leaping over opposing boulders, shouting, laughing, yelling and crushing one another, as if they were taking possession of a conquered city.

The square itself was paved with volcanic tufa, very unevenly laid. In the center was a great fountain of granite without the least ornament, intended exclusively for the use of the inmates of this dreary quarter. Into this square radiated numberless streets and alleys giving its disordered architecture the appearance of being reft and split into chasms, some of the houses being doubtfully propped with timbers.

Round the fountain stone benches had been arranged with tables of similar crude material, at which usually sat the Elders, who decided all disputes, regulated the market and governed this inner empire partly by the maxims of common sense and justice, partly by the laws prescribed by their sacred books, severe indeed and executed with rigour, without provoking a thought of appeal to the milder and often opposing Christian judicature.

But now this Sanhedrim was installed in its place of honour for a different purpose; to hear with outward complacency and inner abhorrence their ancient law denounced and its abolition or reform advocated. For this purpose a movable pulpit, which resembled a bronze caldron on a tripod, carried by four Jewish converts, was duly planted under the supreme direction of the companion friar of the pontifical delegate, who ordered its position reversed several times, ere it seemed to suit his fancy.

The delegate of the Pope himself, surrounded by the pontifical guards, was still kneeling in silent prayer, when a stranger, who had followed the procession from afar, entered the Ghetto, unremarked in the general tumult and ensconced himself out of observation in a dark doorway. From his point of vantage, Eckhardt had leisure to survey the whole pandemonium. On his left there rose an irregular pile of wood-work, built not without some pretentions to architecture, with quaint carvings and devices of birds and beasts on the exposed joints and window-frames, but in a state of ruinous decay. About midheight sloped a pent-house with a narrow balcony, supported like many of the other buildings by props of timber, set against it from the ground. The lower part of the house was closed and barred and had the appearance of having been forsaken for decades.

While, himself unseen Eckhardt surveyed every detail of his surroundings; the preparations for the sermon continued. Beyond the seats of the Elders was assembled the great mass of those who were to profit by the exhortation, remarkable for their long unkempt beards, their glittering eyes and their peculiar physiognomies.

Beyond the circle of these compelled neophytes a tumultuous mob struggled for the possession of every point, whence a view of the proceedings could be obtained, quarrelling, scoffing and buffeting the unresisting Jews, whose policy it was not to offer the least pretext for pillage and general massacre, which on these occasions hovered over their heads by a finer thread than that to which hung the sword of Damocles. Without expostulations they submitted to the rude swaying of the mob, to their blows and revilings, opposing to their tormentors a seemingly inexhaustible endurance. But the horror, anxiety, and rage which glowed in their bosoms were strongly reflected in their faces, peering through the smoky glare of innumerable torches, which they were compelled to exhibit at all the windows of their houses. Engaged in this office only now and then a woman appeared for a brief instant, for the most part withered and old, or veiled and muffled with more than Turkish scrupulousness.

At last the pulpit was duly hoisted and placed to the satisfaction of the attending friar. The Pope's delegate having concluded his prayer arose and two of the Elders advanced, to present him with a copy of the Old Testament, for from their own laws were they to be refuted. They offered it with a deep Oriental bend and the humble request, that the representative of his Holiness, their sovereign, would be pleased to deliver his message. The monk replied briefly that it was not the message of any earthly power which he was there to deliver and then mounted the pulpit by a ladder, which his humbler associate held for him. The attendant friar then sprinkled a lustration round the pulpit with a bunch of hyssop, which he had dipped in an urn of holy water. This he showered liberally upon the Elders who dared not resent it, and ground their teeth in impotent rage.

Strangely interested, as Eckhardt found himself in the scene about to be enacted, watching the rolling human sea under the dark blue night-sky, he found his own curiosity shared by a second personage, who had taken his position immediately below the door-way, in which he stood concealed. This worthy wore a large hat, slouched over his face, which gave him the appearance of a peasant from the marshes; but his dirty gray mantle and crooked staff denoted him a pilgrim. Of his features very little was to be seen, save his glittering minx-eyes. These he kept fixed on the balcony of the ruined house, which had also attracted Eckhardt's attention. At other times that worthy's gaze searched the shadows beneath the gloomy structure with something of mingled scrutiny and scorn.

"Surely this boasted steel-hearted knave of yours means to play us false? Where is the rogue? He keeps us waiting long."

These words, as Eckhardt perceived, were addressed to an individual, who, to judge from the mask he wore, did not wish to be recognized.

"Were it against the fiend, I would warrant him," answered a hushed voice. "But folks here have a great reverence for this holy man, who goes to comfort a plague-stricken patient more cheerfully than another visits his lady-love. And, if he needs must die, were it not wiser to venture the deed in some of the lonely places he haunts, than here in the midst of thousands?"

"Nay," replied his companion in an undertone, every word of which was understood by his unseen listener. "Here alone can a tumult be raised without much danger, and as easily quelled. I do not set forests on fire, to warm my feet. Here they will lay the mischief to the Jews – elsewhere, suspicion would be quickly aroused, for what bravo would deem it worth his while to slay a wretched monk?"

Again the pseudo-pilgrim's associate peered into the shadows. Then he plucked his companion by the sleeve of his mantle.

"Yonder he comes – and by all my sins – streaming like a water-dog! Raise your staff, but no – he sees us," concluded the masked individual, shrinking back into the shadows.

Presently a third individual joined the pilgrim and his friend.

"Don Giovan! Thou dog! How long hast kept me gaping for thee!" the principal speaker hissed into the bravo's face as he limping approached. "But, by the mass, – who baptized thee so late in life?"

There was something demoniacal in the sunken, cadaverous countenance of John of the Catacombs, as he peered into the speaker's eyes. His ashen-pale face with the low brow and inflamed eyelids, never more fittingly illustrated a living sepulchre. He growled some inarticulate response, half stifled by impotent rage and therefore lost upon his listener. For at this moment the voice of the preacher was heard above all the confused noise and din in the large square, reading a Hebrew text, which he subsequently translated into Latin. It was the powerful voice of the speaker, which prevented Eckhardt from distinctly hearing the account which the bravo gave of his forced immersion. But towards the conclusion of his talk, the pilgrim drew the bravo deeper into the shadows of the overhanging balcony and now their conversation became more distinct.

"Dog of a villain!" he addressed John of the Catacombs. "How dare you say that you will fail me in this? Have you forgotten our compact?"

"That I have not, my lord," replied the bravo, shuddering with fear and the cold of his dripping garments. "But an angel was sent for the prevention of the deed! No man would have braved John of the Catacombs and lived."

"Thou needest not proclaim my rank before all this rabble," growled the pseudo-pilgrim. "Have I not warned thee, idiot? Deemest thou an angel would have touched thee, without blasting thee? What had thine assailant to do to stir up the muddy waves? An angel! Coward? Is the bribe not large enough? Name thine own hire then!"

"A pyramid of gold shall not bribe me to it," replied the bravo doggedly. "But I am a true man and will keep no hire which I have not earned. So come with me to the catacombs, and I will restore all I have received of your gold. But the saints protect that holy man – I will not touch him!"

The pilgrim regarded the speaker with ill-repressed rage.

"Holy – maybe – ," he sneered, "holy, according to thy country's proverb: 'La Cruz en los pechos, el diablo en los hechos.' Thou superstitious slave! What has one like thou to fear from either angel or devil?"

"May my soul never see paradise, if I lift steel against that holy man!" persisted the bravo.

"Fool! Coward! Beast!" snarled the pilgrim, gnashing his teeth like a baffled tiger. "You refuse, when this monk's destruction will set the mob in such roaring mutiny as will give your noble associates, whom I see swarming from afar, a chance to commence a work that will enrich you for ever?"

"For ever?" repeated the bravo, somewhat dubiously. "But – it is impossible. See you not he is surrounded by the naked swords of the guards? I thought he would have come darkling through some narrow lane, according to his wont, else I should never – moreover I have taken an oath, my lord, and a man would not willingly damn himself!"

"Will you ever and ever forget my injunction and how much depends upon its observance?" snarled the disguised pilgrim, looking cautiously around. "I warn you again, not to proclaim my rank before all your cut-throats! You swore," he then continued more sedately, "not to lift steel against him! But have I not seen you bring down an eagle's flight with your cross-bow? Where is it?"

"I have sold it to some foreign lord, from beyond the Alps, where they love such distant fowling," the bravo replied guardedly. "I for my part prefer to steal my game with a club, or a dagger."

"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.