CHAPTER XVIII - MESHRAC AT FAULT

Religious life, whether of the individual or community, is largely governed by circumstances. In days of prosperity we are quite capable of looking after our own affairs - too busy attending to pressing business to waste time upon matters vague and visionary; but when disaster, misfortune, and famine return, we remember our own weakness and insufficiency - with sighs and groans and penitential hymns we inaugurate days of humiliation, and cry, in fear and trembling, “Lord, save us, or we perish!” This is not altogether a modern development. The Church, at least in this respect, is right in the confession: “as it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be.”

Sahama was prosperous - singularly so, hence its real religious life had ebbed almost to a vanishing point. On the ingathering of the harvest a day was given to national rejoicing, when an offering of grain and fruit was technically made to the gods and consumed upon the altar sufficiently early in the morning for the Car of Phœbus to carry the sweet smell thereof heavenward, as it passed on its daily course. For the rest no other religious demands were made for the year except a frequent reference to the existence of the deities in ordinary conversation, such as we have already noticed.

This festival was always an occasion of most popular rejoicing, but the approaching celebration promised to be of a more brilliant character than any remembered by the younger generation. For years before her practical retirement from public life, the Queen was only able to be present for a brief space during the sports; then the royal dais was left vacant until such time as Lais was old enough to represent the beloved Sazone. Lais, however, never succeeded in winning the confidence of the people, and though homage was offered to her by virtue of her office, it was void of that spontaneity and enthusiasm which had previously been accorded.

The energies of Lais, however, in prosecution of her mythical scheme, had produced an unexpected - and to her, undesirable - result. Glarces had seized upon the idea, and, seconded by his mother's desire, had induced Vedrona to assume her place as Queen of the Festival at the service in the sacred grove, and also at the sports. In honour of this Glarces had added his name to the list of competitors in the races, and the whole community was wild with joy at the prospect of the coming celebration.

It was on the eve of the festival that Zillah, by virtue of her position as a personal slave of the Princess, ignored the authority of the guards keeping the pylon admitting to the grounds where stood the school of magicians - the cult was principally Egyptian, and its appointments were regulated accordingly - and passing through the avenue of mystic sphinxes, finally reached the top of the steps, where she was compelled to ask assistance.

“I would see Meshrac,” she announced, with the dignity of a royal despot.

The officer drew himself to his full height and bestowed upon her one of those glances of superb, half-amused, half-contemptuous nonchalance so peculiarly oriental.

“Bear you a message from the great Princess?” he enquired.

“Do I not tell you I would see Meshrac?” she retorted, without condescending to further explanation.

The janitor was perplexed; he could devise no reason for her presence save as the bearer of a royal message - no slave would dare to visit the august master without a reasonable warranty; he therefore deemed it best to refer the matter to Meshrac himself.

“I will bring my master word,” he answered. “Wait here till I return;” at which he left to send the request forward.

The astrologer was busily engaged working out an intricate celestial calculation.

“Who is it?” he asked sharply, having failed to catch the name.

“The Iberian slave of the Princess.” The adept pushed his work aside. “What message does she bring?”

“Only that she desires to see my lord.”

“From the Princess?”

The slave smiled.

“She never explains. Shall she be admitted?”

The great interpreter of mysteries was now himself at fault. He knew the character of this girl sufficiently to be assured she was capable of defying all rules and regulations and coming direct to himself for a private and personal enquiry; but for him to give a consultation to a slave would bring the whole profession into contempt at a time when the prospects of its revival were so bright. Yet it was equally probable that the Princess, following the example of her brother, had determined to ask some direction as to the festival, and, if so, she could find no more secret and trusty messenger than the proud Iberian.

“Bring her before me.”

She entered with a salutation of a patron calling to make a purchase. Whether it was a camel or a favour from the gods was a matter of equal indifference - she was the person to be considered, and very plainly indicated what she expected.

He assumed his most frigid reserve in an attempt to overawe her. It was no use. She smiled, and with the most informal unconcern introduced her business.

“My lord Meshrac must pardon me if I offend, but I am ignorant of your practices, since in Iberia we have no magicians - our Druids act as priests, magicians, and judges combined.”

“Is your coming a personal matter, or are you a messenger from the Princess?” asked the great man.

“I am here myself,” she answered evasively, “and needing reliable assistance, have chosen to consult what I imagined was likely to be the best available source.”

“I am not at the service of slaves.”

He drew his work towards him, and was about to summon his attendant.

“Touch not the chime!” she commanded. “We are all slaves to a greater extent than we mostly care to admit. I am held in a bondage of body, but here is your master” (throwing him a well-filled purse)” holding you in a far more contemptible state of slavery than I can ever know. Now that I have paid your most avaricious price, give me what I ask.”

Had it been possible by any power of magic to secure her instant destruction Meshrac would have used it at that moment. But Zillah never employed the lash until she had a firm grip upon the curb. That purse belonged to Lais; Meshrac would recognise it, and she had carefully estimated its restraining power. She intended to offer no explanation. He might draw what inferences he chose - for such she was not responsible - and so long as nothing was said to compromise her, she would be in a position to deny anything, and as for the secrecy of her business, she was convinced that was beyond question.

She smiled as he took up the wallet, carefully examining its exterior to see he was not deceived, then emptying its contents upon the table to count the royal reward for the service required. The donation had a wonderfully soothing effect upon his feelings.

“It is not always slaves are in a position to pay so liberally. I am therefore willing to accept your presence as a messenger, and, without further enquiry, shall be glad to know your will.”

“Now that we understand each other, and you are willing to serve me for the sake of my gold, hear what I have to say,” said Zillah, taking a seat on the opposite side of the table. “ In Sahama I am a slave - in Iberia I was the destined bride of the king. I have been stolen - am determined to return. In my position here I have endured much that I would requite, but though my revenge is willing, time is short. There is, however, one insult that must not go unpunished. Taking advantage of my misfortune and the position he occupies, that viper, Casca, has, by exercise of his superior strength, dared to kiss me - breathed his vile breath upon my face, and laughed at my shame. For this he has to die! But it shall not be until I have made him serve my purpose in securing freedom. Therefore, I want from you a love philtre to mix in his wine to-morrow. I will bring him to my feet. He shall carry me away out of Sahama - free! and when he would take his sensuous reward, I will sheathe this poniard in his carrion heart.”

“Are you sure you can carry out such an ambitious scheme?”

She threw across the table a look of unutterable contempt. “Leave that to me; I am an Iberian!” as if that assured success.

“Of course I shall leave it to you. It is a matter you and Casca must arrange for yourselves. I have no interest in it beyond that your enthusiasm arouses.”

“You lie!” She had lost every trace of feeling, and looked at him with a quiet composure that was more astonishing in its assumption than his anger was fierce. “ I have been here too long not to know how Casca is despised and feared by every man and woman around him, on account of his influence over your fool of a Prince.”

“Mind what you say - your language is rash and indiscreet.”

“It is the honest expression of my opinion, and, seeing that I am speaking into the ear of the gods, who read all hearts - and to them alone,” she added, with malicious significance – “I have nothing to fear. Shall I trouble you for the philtre?”

He hesitated professionally.

“Y-es! I can let you have one if you desire it.”

“Do I not tell you I desire it? And since its employment will also render you a service, I will ask you to make sure of its potency.” Then she added, reflectively, “Perhaps it might be well, in case of accident, that you should give me two.”

He crossed the room and opened a cabinet, from which he took two small phials.

“Either of these will do all you require with a much stronger minded man than Casca,” he said, handing her the innocent-looking instruments of destruction.

“That is all I want,” she answered, dropping the vials into her dainty wallet; and without a word, either of thanks or adieu, she was gone.

“Ye gods!” he exclaimed, as she left him. “If more vindictive furies are to be found in Pluto's kingdom, save me from going thence. But behind all this is something I have not yet divined. This bag belongs to Lais, and the gold is not the slave's. What does it mean?” The question raised a problem too dark for either his astrology or magic to solve. Only one thing was clear - mischief threatened for to-morrow, but how could he discover its nature and design, so as to make the stars foreshow it, and thus bring advantage to his craft? “The girl, or someone behind her, has invented a plausible story, but it does not deceive me. Her hinted escape with Casca may be part of the plan, but why should Lais take any interest in it, or try to assist therein? It looks as if the absence of both were necessary to the Assyrian's cause and welfare - and if so, why? Can it be that Glarces was better informed than we, and there was a cause for the suspicions he brought before the oracle? This triune combination, no matter how or where it appears, is always Lais, Casca, and Zillah; yet their movements are so silent and secret that I have not been able to learn anything of them - so completely concealed as to leave no trace open to our keenest scrutiny. But we are not altogether foiled. It is not yet too late. The girl has said enough to make the stars eloquent with danger to the palace, a suggestion of which I must avail myself, and lay the message before the Prince for his guidance and caution during the festival.”

With this Meshrac touched his chime, and at once called the fraternity of magicians to consider the inauspicious conjunctions of the heavenly bodies.

Meanwhile Zillah had reached the palace, having also communed with herself on the way.

“And is this the great Meshrac, prince of magicians, who in his secret wisdom directs the destinies of nations, and reads alike the minds of men and gods? S'death! I wonder how many gods and wise men are required to make the equal of one determined woman? Wisdom and gods, indeed - what an insult to intelligence! I could amuse myself with the joint congregations and smile at their undoing! But now for Lais! She is a woman, and holds the advantage over me. This I must secure at once, and my plan works well towards it. There is interest and pleasure in a contest with a deadly friend, where poison hides behind every smile, and pleasant considerations mask a fatal stab. There is an excitement in meeting craft with tact, and turning poisoned confidence aside with a smiling refusal to accept so great self-sacrifice. The anticipation of such a battle makes every nerve to tingle with the fore-taste of the joy of victory. One such encounter has more real merit than the conquest of all the gods, Sahama ever knew, and in this instance I think Iberia will not yield to either Babylon or Velia.”

So she reached the palace, where Lais was anxiously awaiting her return.

“Welcome, my faithful Zillah, and what has been your measure of success?”

“There is the philtre,” she answered scornfully, indignant at the doubt implied in the question.