Black Magic by Marjorie Bowen (romantic novels in english .TXT) 📖

hated

him, so waited my chance, and the night we reached the city I betrayed

him for what he was, betrayed him to whom I had sworn

friendship…well, half the town came howling through the snow to

seize him, but we were too late, we found a flaming house…it burnt

to ashes, he with it…I had had my revenge, but it brought me no

peace. I left the West and went to the East, to India, Persia, to

Greece, I avoided both God and the Devil, I dreaded Hell and dared not

hope for Heaven, I tried to forget but could not, I tried to repent

but could not. Good and evil strove for me, until the Lord had

pity…I heard of you, and I have come to Rome to cast myself at your

feet, to ask your aid to help throw myself on God His mercy.”

 

He rose with his hands clasped on his breast and his wild eyes fixed

on the white face of Luigi Caprarola; thunder and lightning together

were rending the hot air; Theirry’s gorgeous dress glimmered in gold

and purple, his face was flushed and exalted.

 

“God wins, I think, this time,” he said in an unsteady voice. “I have

confessed my sins, I will do penance for them, and die at least in

peace—God and the angels win!”

 

The Cardinal rose; with one hand he held to the back of the ivory

chair, with the other he clasped the golden book to his breast; the

light shining on his red hair showed it in filmy brightness against

the wall of ebony and mother-of-pearl; his face and lips were very

pale above the vivid hue of his robe, his eyes, large and dark, stared

at Theirry.

 

Again the lightning flashed between the two, and seemed to sink into

the floor at the Cardinal’s feet.

 

He lifted his head proudly and listened to the following mighty roll;

when the echoes had quivered again into hot stillness he spoke.

 

“The Devil and his legions win, I think,” he said. “At least they have

served Dirk Renswoude well.”

 

Theirry fell back, and back, until he crouched against the gleaming

wall.

 

“Cardinal Caprarola!” he cried fearfully. “Cardinal Caprarola, speak

to me! even here I hear the fiends jibe!”

 

The Cardinal stepped from the ebony dais, his stiff robes making a

rustling as he walked; he laughed.

 

“Have I learned a mien so holy my old comrade knows me not? Have I

changed so, I who was dainty and pleasant to look upon, your friend

and your bane?”

 

He paused in the centre of the room; the open window, the dark beyond

it, the waving curtains, the fierce lightning made a terrific

background for his haughty figure.

 

But Theirry moaned and whispered in his throat. “Look at me,”

commanded the Cardinal, “look at me well, you who betrayed me, am I

not he who gilded a devil one August afternoon in a certain town in

Flanders?”

 

Theirry drew himself up and pressed his clenched hands to his temples.

 

“Betrayed!” he shrieked. “It is I who am betrayed. I sought God, and

have been delivered unto the Devil!”

 

The thunder crashed so that his words were lost in the great noise of

it, the blue and forked lightning darted between them.

 

“You know me now?” asked the Cardinal.

 

Theirry slipped to his knees, crying like a child.

 

“Where is God? where is God?”

 

The Cardinal smiled.

 

“He is not here,” he answered, “nor in any place where I have been.”

 

An awful stillness fell after the crash of thunder; Theirry hid his

face, cowering like a man who feels his back bared to the lash.

 

“Cannot you look at me?” asked the Cardinal in a half-mournful scorn;

“after all these years am I to meet you—thus? At my feet!”

 

Theirry sprang up, his features mask-like in their unnatural

distortion and lifeless hue.

 

“You do well to taunt me,” he answered, “for I am an accursed fool, I

have been seeking for what does not exist—God!—ay, now I know that

there is no God and no Heaven, therefore what matter for my

soul…what matter for any of it since the Devil owns us all!”

 

The storm was renewed with the ending of his speech, and he saw

through the open window the vineyards and gardens of the Janiculum

Hill blue for many seconds beneath the black sky.

 

“Your soul!” cried the Cardinal, as before. “Always have you thought

too much, and not enough, of that; you served too many masters and not

one faithfully; had you been a stronger man you had stayed with your

fallen saint, not spurned her, and then avenged her by my betrayal.”

 

He crossed to the window and closed it, the while the lightning picked

him out in a fierce flash, and waited until the after-crash had rocked

to silence, his eyes all the while not leaving the shrinking, horror-stricken figure of Theirry.

 

“Well, it is all a long while ago,” he said. “And I and you have

changed.”

 

“How did you escape that night?” asked Theirry hoarsely; hardly could

he believe that this man was Dirk Renswoude, yet his straining eyes

traced in the altered older face the once familiar features.

 

As the Cardinal moved slowly across the gleaming chamber Theirry

marked with a horrible fascination the likeness of the haughty priest

to the poor student in black magic.

 

The straight dark hair was now curled, bleached and stained a deep red

colour, after the manner of the women of the East; eyes and brows were

the same as they had ever been, the first as bright and keen, the last

as straight and heavy; his clear skin showed less pallor, his mouth

seemed fuller and more firmly set, the upper lip heavily shaded with a

dark down, the chin less prominent, but the line of the jaw was as

strong and clear as ever; a handsomer face than it had been, a

remarkable face, with an expression composed and imperious, with eyes

to tremble before.

 

“I thought you burnt,” faltered Theirry.

 

“The master I serve is powerful,” smiled the Cardinal. “He saved me

then and set me where I am now, the greatest man in Rome—so great a

man that did you wish a second time to betray me you might shout the

truth in the streets and find no one to believe you.”

 

The lightning darted in vain at the closed window, and the thunder

rolled more faintly in the distance.

 

“Betray you!” cried Theirry, wild-eyed. “No, I bow the knee to the

greatest thing I have met, and kiss your hand, your Eminence!”

 

The Cardinal turned and looked at him over his shoulder.

 

“I never broke my vows,” he said softly, “the vows of comradeship I

made to you; just now you said you thought I loved you, then, I mean,

in the old days…”—he paused and his delicate hand crept over his

heart—“well, I…loved you…and it ruined me, as the devils

promised. Last night I was warned that you would come to-day and that

you would be my bane…well, I do not care since you are come, for,

sir, I love you still.”

 

“Dirk!” cried Theirry.

 

The Cardinal gazed on him with ardent eyes.

 

“Do you suppose it matters to me that you are weak, foolish, or that

you betrayed me? You are the one thing in all the world I care for…

Love! what was your love when you left her at Sebastian’s feet?—had

she been my lady I had stayed and laughed at all of it…”

 

“It is not the Devil who has taught you to be so faithful,” said

Theirry.

 

For the first time a look of trouble, almost of despair, came into the

Cardinal’s eyes; he turned his head away.

 

“You shame me,” continued Theirry; “I have no constancy in me;

thinking of my own soul, almost have I forgotten Jacobea of

Martzburg—and yet—”

 

“And yet you loved her.”

 

“Maybe I did—it is long ago.”

 

A bitter little smile curved the Cardinal’s lips.

 

“Is that the way men care for women?” he said. “Certes, not in that

manner had I wooed and remembered, had I been a—a—lover.”

 

“Strange that we, meeting here like this, should talk of love!” cried

Theirry, his heart heaving, his eyes dilating, “strange that I, driven

round the world by fear of God, that I, coming here to one of God’s

own saints, should find myself in the Devil’s net again; come, he has

done much for you, what will he do for me?”

 

The Cardinal smiled sadly.

 

“Neither God nor Devil will do anything for you, for you are not

single-hearted, neither constant to good nor evil; but I—will risk

everything to serve your desires.”

 

Theirry laughed.

 

“Heaven has cast the world away and we are mad! You, you famous as a

holy man—did you murder the young Blaise? I will back to India, to

the East, and die an idol-worshipper. See yonder crucifix, it hangs

upon your walls, but the Christ does not rise to smite you; you handle

the Holy Mysteries in the Church and no angel slays you on the altar

steps–let me away from Rome!”

 

He turned to the gilt door, but the Cardinal caught his sleeve.

 

“Stay,” he said, “stay, and all I promised you in the old days shall

come true—do you doubt me? Look about you, see what I have won for

myself…”

 

Theirry’s beautiful face was flushed and wild. “Nay, let me go…”

 

The last rumble of the thunder crossed their speech.

 

“Stay, and I will make you Emperor.”

 

“Oh devil!” cried Theirry, “can you do that?”

 

“We will rule the world between us; yea, I will make you Emperor, if

you will stay in Rome and serve me; I will snatch the diadem from

Balthasar’s head and cast his Empress out as I ever meant to do, and

you shall bear the sceptre of the C�sars, oh, my friend, my friend!”

 

He held out his right hand as he spoke; Theirry caught it, crushed the

fingers in his hot grasp and kissed the brilliant rings; the Cardinal

flushed and dropped his lids over sparkling eyes.

 

“You will stay?” he breathed.

 

“Yea, my sweet fiend, I am yours, and wholly yours; lo! were not

rewards such as these better worth crossing the world for than a

pardon from God?”

 

He laughed and staggered back against the wall, his look dazed and

reckless; the Cardinal withdrew his hand and crossed to the ivory

seat.

 

“Now, farewell,” he said, “the audience has been over-long; I know

where to find you, and in a while I shall send for you; farewell, oh

Theirry of Dendermonde!”

 

He spoke the name with a great tenderness, and his eyes grew soft and

misty.

 

Theirry drew himself together.

 

“Farewell, oh disciple of Sathanas! I, your humble follower, shall

look for fulfilment of your promises.”

 

The Cardinal touched the bell; when the fair youth appeared, he bade

him see Theirry from the palace.

 

Without another word they parted, Theirry with the look of madness on

him…

 

When Luigi Caprarola was alone he put his hand over his eyes and

swayed backwards as if about to fall, while his breath came in tearing

pants…with an effort he steadied himself, and, clenching his hands

now over his heart, paced up and down the room, his Cardinal’s robe

trailing after him, his golden rosary glittering against his knee.

 

As he struggled for control the gilt door was opened and Paolo Orsini

bowed himself into his