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The Expedition of Captain Flick: A Story of Adventure

Chapter XXII. Basilea

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Chapter XXII. Basilea.

“Oh, none can tell the craft of womankind,
For where they set their fancies, there they work,
In subtle fashions, to encompass ends
Wherewith to aid the swift accomplishment
Of those same fancies which beguile their hearts.”

From a remembrance of the tattooings on the breasts of the negroes, we had no difficulty in recognizing the statue of the goddess. A dove perched on the fingers of the left hand, and the right arm, raised aloft, pointed to a glittering silver star, which swung from the arched roof of the niche. A benign expression overspread the perfect face; and delicately swelling curves, suggestive of feminine loveliness and grace, outlined the perfect limbs and trunk. Life-size, of dazzling white marble, its beauty, as it glimmered palely in the radiance of the moonlight, drew from us all a unanimous murmur of admiration. If not wrought by the master-hand of Praxiteles, it was equal to any of his known works-say, the Venus of Cnidus; and, gazing on its gracious loveliness, I no page 249 longer wondered that the negroes had turned from their sidereal and bestial worship to adore the super-human splendour of the Cytherean deity. The statue was lovely beyond conception.

I glanced at Flick, who stood beside me, and noted that his face was purple with excitement, and his eyes were wide with admiration and amazement. He was doubtless counting on the large sum he would obtain in Europe for that marvellous work of the Greek sculptor; and, in fancy, he had already over-ridden all obstacles, and was steaming homeward with the statue in the hold of the yacht. But for the solemnity of the occasion I could have laughed at his expression; but it was dangerous to behave with such levity, and I turned away my eyes to look again on the ceremonial.

The whole of that immense hall was crowded with kneeling negroes, and strangely looked the black line of their faces intersecting the mass of white garments. The priestesses had risen to their feet, and stood on either side in two lines, with downcast eyes, and hands crossed on their breasts. Basilea ministered alone at the altar, throwing incense on the fire, so that white smoke should enwreath the fair limbs of the goddess. Then offerings of roses, of myrtles, of apples, and of doves were made—these last, a snow-white pair, being slain and placed on the fire page 250 till they were consumed. During the sacrifice the maidens, in low sweet voices, sang hymns in priase of Cytheraea and her divinity. The scene was interesting, but I grew weary of its length, and it took me all my time to forbear from yawning. Afterwards the ten maidens danced in a solemn, stately fashion, to the monotonous singing of the people.

Then came the most interesting part of the ceremony, the part which first revealed to us the plans of Basilea. After the sacrifice had been made, the high priestess came forward with uplifted hands, and spoke to the people in a firm and commanding voice.

“Men and women of Isk,” said she, with a swift glance at Harry to bespeak his attention, “last night the holy Venus came to me in a vision for the second time. In the past, she bade me tell you that the white strangers who should come to Isk should be received with kindness. Lo, the strangers have come hither as the goddess foretold, and kindly have ye treated them. Now, says Venus, the undying goddess, ‘Mine are love, and marriage, and fruitful wives, and fair babes. And all in Isk may marry and be given in marriage save my priestesses who minister unto me. They alone are doomed to solitude and sanctity. So hath it been these thousand years. Now hath the holy goddess a desire that these things should end.’ Listen! O men and women of page 251 Isk. The spirit of the goddess will enter into yon fair body of marble, and those cold lips shall speak the will of the divinity.”

A murmur of fear rose from those kneeling, and I saw Hesperus look at Basilea with marked astonishment. Whether he thought her inspired, or believed that she was a trickster merely, I cannot say; but he gave no further sign, and Basilea proceeded with her conjurations. Again the music rose, and she, bowing her head on her arms, flung herself prone on the marble pavement before the shrine. When the music ceased there was a dead silence, and in the hush a low voice murmured from the perfect lips of the statue.

“It is my will that the chief handmaiden of Venus be no longer lonely, but shall choose her a lord from the white strangers whom I have caused to be brought hither. This is the word of Venus; it is holy.”

Of course I saw at a glance that it was merely a clever piece of ventriloquism; but the effect produced on the credulous negroes and on the king, was one of awe. A murmur of fear echoed to the stars, as the worshippers rose to their feet. None thought of disputing the word of the goddess. Thus Basilea made the first step towards securing Harry for a husband. I looked at him to note the effect of the oracle, but he was gazing eagerly at a priestess near at hand.

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She was scarcely more than a girl, with long tresses of black hair, and eyes darkly blue like the sea. In her soft white robes, with crossed hands, she stood amid her sisters, but I saw her glance up, no doubt feeling the intensity of Harry's gaze. Their eyes met, and a flood of colour rose in her cheeks. With a look of fear, she let her eyes fall, and began with the rest to intone the invocation to Venus. This ended, the music again swelled out, the silver veil fell over the beautiful statue, and two by two the priestesses moved towards the sanctuary.

I watched them as they passed, so closely that their robes brushed across our feet. The fair girl who had attracted Harry moved slowly along, and as she stood in a line with him, I noticed her hand creep out of the folds of her robe with a paper. Harry saw the action, and snatched the paper just in time to prevent Basilea seeing him, while the girl passed onward with a smile. The high priestess came last, and threw a look of longing on Harry as she disappeared between the curtains.

“What's that, Hal?” I asked in a whisper, as the temple emptied itself of worshippers. “Are you in love with that girl?”

“Nonsense!” he exclaimed, reddening. “I never saw her before; but I think she is the prettiest girl I ever set eyes on. I wonder who she is?”

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“A priestess of Venus. But no doubt the paper will tell you more.”

While he glanced over it by the light of a burning torch fastened to a pillar near at hand, I moved forward with Flick to greet the king, who was advancing at that moment with his two brothers. Hesperus looked truly royal in his ceremonial dress, and received both the captain and myself with affable condescension.

“Truly the ways of the goddess are wonderful!” said he with a smile. “Husbands she would have for her handmaidens, and so she hath brought ye across the untrodden sea.”

“The goddess only spoke of one husband, O Hesperus.”

“Ay, truly! But she named not the spouse. Is it thee, dark one?” he said, turning to me, “or this great white stranger who is of the sea? Nay, nay, if my mind serves me truly, the holy Basilea has set her heart upon Fairhair yonder.”

“I am certain of that,” cried Flick bluntly. “Womanlike, she picks out the handsomest man of us three.”

“Speak not so, seaman,” said Hesperus severely. “The holy Basilea is guided in this, as in other things, by the will of the undying goddess.”

There was a sneer on the king's lips as he spoke, page 254 and I then guessed that he knew the trick put upon the people by Basilea. Not that he meant to betray her, for the kingly and sacerdotal power were so interwoven, that the one could not exist without the other. Knowing the guile of the whole thing, Hesperus chose to accept the trickery of Basilea as the veritable will of the goddess, and I have no doubt he intended to wed Harry to that crafty old woman on the same day that he made Bertha queen of Isk. But, closely laid as were these plans, they were destined to be overturned, and in no pleasant way either. But the sequel to these events will be related in due season.

The king turned to speak to Flick about the festival, and Harry, with the open note in his hand, came up to where I was standing.

“It is from Bertha,” he said brightly. “She tells me that we are to be permitted to see her to-morrow in the presence of Myrtea.”

“Who is Myrtea?”

“That pretty girl who gave me the note. She is devoted to Bertha, and we can speak freely before her. At this interview Basilea will not be present, so we may be able to arrange some plan for Bertha's escape.”

“Won't Myrtea betray us?” I asked doubtfully, for I believed in no one.

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“No; Bertha says we can trust her implicitly, as she hates the high priestess and loves Bertha.”

“Oh!” said I, a trifle dryly, “is it only Bertha she loves, or has this pretty girl also fallen in love with your too fascinating self?”

“Bertha doesn't say so,” rejoined Harry awkwardly.

“The girl's eyes say so, at all events,” I retorted. “Take care, Harry. I foresee trouble. If Basilea is of a jealous disposition, she may make things hot for us.”

“Oh, confound Basilea!”

“With all my heart. Although we have to thank her for our present safety. You must be careful, Harry—on her and on you all things hinge. If this Myrtea comes on the scene, she may bring destruction in her train. Remember, our lives, and the life of Bertha, depend upon your playing the part assigned by the goddess.”

“I'll play the part up to a certain point,” grumbled Harry, slipping the note into his pocket; “but I give you warning that I shan't marry that old hag.”

“Many events may take place before that,” said I dryly. “At present it is your business to keep things smooth, and forget Myrtea, at all events for the present.”

“I'll do my best—since the need is so urgent,” he said crossly; “but I don't like it.”

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“No doubt. However, here is Basilea, no longer a high priestess, but an elderly jealous woman. Play your part well, Harry, and remember what is at stake.”

Basilea, now arrayed in black robes, entered the hall at this moment. She was really a fine-looking woman, although her features were cast in a some-what masculine mould. What with her severe face and dignified gait, she looked a very queen, and Hesperus saluted her as his equal—which indeed she was, for did not this pair rule the island between them?-or rather, I should say, did not the woman rule; for in her experienced hands the king was no more than a child.

While her head governed her heart, Basilea was a match for the three of us, and had it not been for her mad infatuation for Harry, which obscured her judgment and warped her mind, I have no doubt things would have gone ill with us. As it was, her feminine nature placed her at a disadvantage, and we were able to escape her snares, and those of the islanders, but not without much difficulty. She was a clever woman, that high priestess, and one with whom I cared to have little to do.

“Stranger,” she said, advancing towards Harry, and taking no notice of us, “heard you the will of the goddess?”

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“Yes, Basilea! but what has that will to do with me?”

“Much! Thou art he whom the goddess hath given to her handmaiden.”

Harry flushed up to the roots of his fair hair, and looked awkward. I was afraid lest he should say something likely to offend the woman, but he proved equal to the occasion.

“I am much honoured that the goddess should choose me,” he said slowly; “but, if I am to be thy husband, Basilea, there are things which I would have you do.”

“All that you wish shall be done, my lord. Tonight I am weary, and would seek rest. To-morrow, if thou come hither, my knowledge and my power are at thy service.”

“I would see my sister to-morrow.”

“Ay! She is thy sister, as I guess by thy looks,” said Basilea, gazing at him intently. “Truly the goddess has brought honour to your house. Thy sister to the king, and thou to me.”

“What of my friends, Basilea?”

“The goddess will look to them,” she said, casting a baleful look on us, and then passed out with severe dignity.

In the company of Hesperus we left the temple, and descended to the quay, where we found the boat page 258 winting. The illuminations were over, and all was dark, for the clouds had blotted out moon and stars. Only the coloured riding lights of the Carmen glimmered in the distance. The king left us on the quay, but before he departed, he shook hands with us, and commanded that we should come to the palace.

“Or if not all, at least thou, seaman,” said he, looking at Flick. “I have much to say to thee, which may aid thee in the future. Fairhair,” he added significantly, turning to Harry, “who seeks honey must expect stings.”

The next moment he was gone, leaving us rather ominously impressed by his last words. In silence we rowed to the yacht, and clambered on deck. Flick was the first to speak.

“A woman to fight against,” he said gloomily; “that is ill work, lads.”