A Thorny Path, Volume 11.
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Georg Ebers >> A Thorny Path, Volume 11.
"He is a villain!" shrieked the matron--"the curse, the shame of
humanity, a damnable destroyer of peace and honor and life, such as the
world has never beheld before! To kill him would be to earn the
gratitude and blessing of the universe. And you, the scions of a noble
house, you, I say, prove that there still are men among so many slaves!
It is Rome herself who calls you through me--like her, a woman maltreated
and wounded to the heart's core--to bear arms in her service till she
gives you the signal for making an end of the dastardly blood hound!"
The brothers gazed at one another pale and speechless, till at last
Nemesianus ventured to say "He deserves to die, we know, a thousand
deaths, but we are neither judges nor executioners. We can not do the
work of the assassin."
"No, lady, we can not," added Apollinaris, and shook his wounded head
energetically.
But the lady, nothing daunted, went on: "Who has ever called Brutus a
murderer? You are young--Life lies before you. To plunge a sword into
the heart of this monster is a deed for which you are too good. But I
know a hand that understands its work and would be ready to guide the
steel. Call it out at the right moment and be its guide!"
"And that hand?" Apollinaris asked in anxious expectation.
"It is there," replied Berenike, pointing to Martialis, who entered the
room at that moment. Again the brothers interchanged looks of doubt, but
the lady cried: "Consider for a moment! I would fain go hence with the
certainty that the one burning desire shall be fulfilled which still
warms this frozen heart."
She motioned to the centurion, left the apartment with him, and preceded
him to her own room. Arrived there, she ordered the astonished freedman
Johannes, in his office as notary, to add a codicil to her will. In the
event of her death, she left to Xanthe, the wife of the centurion
Martialis, her lawful property the villa at Kanopus, with all it
contained, and the gardens appertaining to it, for the free use of
herself and her children.
The soldier listened speechless with astonishment. This gift was worth
twenty houses in the city, and made its owner a rich man. But the
testator was scarcely ten years older than his Xanthe, and, as he kissed
the hem of his mistress's robe in grateful emotion, he cried: "May the
gods reward you for your generosity; but we will pray and offer up
sacrifices that it may be long before this comes into our hands!"
The lady shook her head with a bitter smile, and, drawing the soldier
aside, she disclosed to him in rapid words her determination to quit this
life before the praetorians entered the house. She then informed the
horror-stricken man that she had chosen him to be her avenger. To him,
too, the emperor had dealt a malicious blow. Let him remember that, when
the time came to plunge the sword in the tyrant's heart. Should this
deed, however, cost Martialis his life--which he had risked in many a
battle for miserable pay--her will would enable his widow to bring up
their children in happiness and comfort.
The centurion had thrown in a deprecatory word or two, but Berenike
continued as if she had not heard him, till at last Martialis cried:
"You ask too much of me, lady. Caesar is hateful to me, but I am no
longer one of the praetorians, and am banished the country. How is it
possible that I should approach him? How dare I, a common man--"
The lady came closer to him, and whispered:
"You will perform this deed to which I have appointed you in the name of
all the just. We demand nothing from you but your sword. Greater men
than you--the two Aurelians--will guide it. At their word of command you
will do the deed. When they give you the signal, brave Martialis,
remember the unfortunate woman in Alexandria whose death you swore
to revenge. As soon as the tribunes--"
But the centurion was suddenly transformed. "If the tribunes command
it," he interrupted with decision, his dull eye flashing--"if they demand
it of me, I do it willingly. Tell them Martialis's sword is ever at
their service. It has made short work of stronger men than that vicious
stripling."
Berenike gave the soldier her hand, thanked him hurriedly, and begged
him, as he could pass unharmed through the city, to hasten to her
husband's counting-house by the water-side, to warn him and carry him
her last greetings.
With tears in his eyes Martialis did as she desired. When he had gone,
the steward began to implore his mistress to conceal herself, and not
cast away God's gift of life so sinfully; but she turned from him
resolutely though kindly, and repaired once more to the brothers' room.
One glance at them disclosed to her that they had come to no definite
conclusion; but their hesitation vanished as soon as they heard that the
centurion was ready to draw his sword upon the emperor when they should
give the signal; and Berenike breathed a sigh of relief at this
resolution, and clasped their hands in gratitude.
They, too, implored her to conceal herself, but she merely answered:
"May your youth grow into happy old age! Life can offer me nothing more,
since my child was taken from me--But time presses--I welcome the
murderers, now that I know that revenge will not sleep."
"And your husband?" interposed Nemesianus.
She answered with a bitter smile: "He? He has the gift of being easily
consoled.--But what was that?"
Loud voices were audible outside the sick-room. Nemesianus stationed
himself in front of the lady, sword in hand. This protection, however,
proved unnecessary, for, instead of the praetorians, Johanna entered the
room, supporting on her arm the half-sinking form of a young man in whom
no one would have recognized the once beautifully curled and carefully
dressed Alexander. A long caracalla covered his tall form; Dido the
slave had cut off his hair, and he himself had disguised his features
with streaks of paint. A large, broad-brimmed hat had slipped to the
back of his head like a drunken man's, and covered a wound from which the
red blood flowed down upon his neck. His whole aspect breathed pain and
horror, and Berenike, who took him for a hired cut-throat sent by
Caracalla, retreated hastily from him till Johanna revealed his name.
He nodded his head in confirmation, and then sank exhausted on his knees
beside Apollinaris's couch and managed with great difficulty to stammer
out: "I am searching for Philip. He went into the town-ill-out of his
senses. Did he not come to you?"
"No," answered Berenike. "But what is this fresh blood? Has the
slaughter begun?"
The wounded man nodded. Then he continued, with a groan: "In front of
the house of your neighbor Milon--the back of my head--I fled--a lance--"
His voice failed him, and Berenike cried to the tribune: "Support him,
Nemesianus! Look after him and tend him. He is the brother of the
maiden--you know--If I know you, you will do all in your power for him,
and keep him hidden here till all danger is over."
"We will defend him with our lives!" cried Apollinaris, giving his hand
to the lady.
But he withdrew it quickly, for from the impluvium arose the rattle of
arms, and loud, confused noise.
Berenike threw up her head and lifted her hands as if in prayer. Her
bosom heaved with her deep breath, the delicate nostrils quivered, and
the great eyes flashed with wrathful light. For a moment she stood thus
silent, then let her arms fall, and cried to the tribunes:
"My curse be upon you if you forget what you owe to yourselves, to the
Roman Empire, and to your dying friend. My blessing, if you hold fast to
what you have promised."
She pressed their hands, and, turning to do the same to the artist, found
that he had lost consciousness. Johanna and Nemesianus had removed his
hat and caracalla, to attend to his wound.
A strange smile passed over the matron's stern features. Snatching the
Gallic mantle from the Christian's hand, she threw it over her own
shoulders, exclaiming:
"How the ruffian will wonder when, instead of the living woman, they
bring him a corpse wrapped in his barbarian's mantle!"
She pressed the hat upon her head, and from a corner of the room where
the brothers' weapons stood, selected a hunting-spear. She asked if this
weapon might be recognized as belonging to them, and, on their answering
in the negative, said:
"My thanks, then, for this last gift!"
At the last moment she turned to the waiting-woman:
"Your brother will help you to burn Korinna's picture. No shameless gaze
shall dishonor it again." She tore her hand from that of the Christian,
who, with hot tears, tried to hold her back; then, carrying her head
proudly erect, she left them.
The brothers gazed shudderingly after her. "And to know," cried
Nemesianus, striking his forehead, "that our own comrades will slay her!
Never were the swords of Rome so disgraced!"
"He shall pay for it!" replied the wounded man, gnashing his teeth.
"Brother, we must avenge her!"
"Yes--her, and--may the gods hear me!--you too, Apollinaris," swore the
other, lifting his hand as for an oath.
Loud screams, the clash of arms, and quick orders sounded from below and
broke in upon the tribune's vow. He was rushing to the window to draw
back the curtain and look upon the horrid deed with his own eyes, when
Apollinaris called him back, reminding him of their duty toward Melissa's
brother, who was lost if the others discovered him here.
Hereupon Nemesianus lifted the fainting youth in his strong arms and
carried him into the adjoining room, laying him upon the mat which had
served their faithful old slave as a bed. He then covered him with his
own mantle, after hastily binding up the wound on his head and another on
his shoulder.
By the time the tribune returned to his brother the noise outside had
grown considerably less, only pitiable cries of anguish mingled with the
shouts of the soldiers.
Nemesianus hastily pulled aside the curtain, letting such a flood of
blinding sunshine into the room that Apollinaris covered his wounded face
with his hands and groaned aloud.
"Sickening! Horrible! Unheard of!" cried his brother, beside himself
at the sight that met his eyes. "A battle-field! What do I say? The
peaceful house of a Roman citizen turned into shambles. Fifteen, twenty,
thirty bodies on the grass! And the sunshine plays as brightly on the
pools of blood and the arms of the soldiers as if it rejoiced in it all.
But there--Oh, brother! our Marcipor--there lies our dear old Marci!--and
beside him the basket of roses he had fetched for the lady Berenike from
the flower-market. There they be, steeped in blood, the red and white
roses; and the bright sun looks down from heaven and laughs upon it!"
He broke down into sobs, and then continued, gnashing his teeth with
rage: "Apollo smiles upon it, but he sees it; and wait--wait but a little
longer, Tarautas! The god stretches out his hand already for the
avenging bow! Has Berenike ventured among them? Near the fountain-how
it flashes and glitters with the hues of Iris!--they are crowding round
something on the ground--Mayhap the body of Seleukus. No--the crowd is
separating. Eternal gods! It is she--it is the woman who tended you!"
"Dead?" asked the other.
"She is lying on the ground with a spear in her bosom. Now the legate-
yes, it is Quintus Flavius Nobilior--bends over her and draws it out.
Dead--dead! and slain by a man of our cohort!"
He clasped his hands before his face, while Apollinaris muttered curses,
and the name of their faithful Marcipor, who had served their father
before them, coupled with wild vows of vengeance.
Nemesianus at length composed himself sufficiently to follow the course
of the horrible events going on below.
"Now," he went on, describing it to his brother, "now they are
surrounding Rufus. That merciless scoundrel must have done something
abominable, that even goes beyond what his fellows can put up with.
There they have caught a slave with a bundle in his hand, perhaps stolen
goods. They will punish him with death, and are themselves no better
than he. If you could only see how they come swarming from every side
with their costly plunder! The magnificent golden jug set with jewels,
out of which the lady Berenike poured the Byblos wine for you, is there
too!--Are we still soldiers, or robbers and murderers?"
"If we are," cried Apollinaris, "I know who has made us so."
They were startled by the approaching rattle of arms in the corridor, and
then a loud knock at the chamber-door. The next moment a soldier's head
appeared in the doorway, to be quickly withdrawn with the exclamation,
"It is true--here lies Apollinaris!"
"One moment," said a second deep voice, and over the threshold stepped
the legate of the legion, Quintus Flavius Nobilior, in all the panoply of
war, and saluted the brothers.
Like them, he came of an old and honorable race, and was acting in place
of the prefect Macrinus, whose office in the state prevented him from
taking the military command of that mighty corps, the praetorians.
Twenty years older than the twins, and a companion-in-arms of their
father, he had managed their rapid promotion. He was their faithful
friend and patron, and Apollinaris's misfortune had disgusted him no less
than the order in the execution of which he was now obliged to take part.
Having greeted the brothers affectionately, observed their painful
emotion, and heard their complaints over the murder of their slave, he
shook his manly head, and pointing to the blood that dripped from his
boots and greaves, "Forgive me for thus defiling your apartments," he
said. "If we came from slaughtering men upon the field of battle, it
could only do honor to the soldier; but this is the blood of defenseless
citizens, and even women's gore is mixed with it."
"I saw the body of the lady of this house," said Nemesianus, gloomily.
"She has tended my brother like a mother."
"But, on the other hand, she was imprudent enough to draw down Caesar's
displeasure upon her," interposed the Flavian, shrugging his shoulders.
"We were to bring her to him alive, but he had anything but friendly
intentions toward her; however, she spoiled his game. A wonderful woman!
I have scarcely seen a man look death--and self-sought death--in the face
like that! While the soldiers down there were massacring all who fell
into their hands--those were the orders, and I looked on at the butchery,
for, rather than--well, you can imagine that for yourselves--through one
of the doors there came a tall, extraordinary figure. The wide brim of a
traveling hat concealed the features, and it was wrapped in one of the
emperor's fool's mantles. It hurried toward the maniple of Sempronius,
brandishing a javelin, and with a sonorous voice reviling the soldiers
till even my temper was roused. Here I caught sight of a flowing robe
beneath the caracalla, and, the hat having fallen back, a beautiful
woman's face with large and fear-inspiring eyes. Then it suddenly
flashed upon me that this grim despiser of death, being a woman, was
doubtless she whom we were to spare. I shouted this to my men; but--and
at that moment I was heartily ashamed of my profession--it was too late.
Tall Rufus pierced her through with his lance. Even in falling she
preserved the dignity of a queen, and when the men surrounded her she
fixed each one separately with her wonderful eyes and spoke through the
death-rattle in her throat:
"'Shame upon men and soldiers who let themselves be hounded on like dogs
to murder and dishonor!' Rufus raised his sword to make an end of her,
but I caught his arm and knelt beside her, begging her to let me see to
her wound. With that she seized the lance in her breast with both hands,
and with her last breath murmured, 'He desired to see the living woman--
bring him my body, and my curse with it! Then with a last supreme effort
she buried the spear still deeper in her bosom; but it was not necessary.
"I gazed petrified at the high-bred, wrathful face, still beautiful in
death, and the mysterious, wide-open eyes that must have flashed so
proudly in life. It was enough to drive a man mad. Even after I had
closed her eyes and spread the mantle over her--"
"What has been done with the body?" asked Apollinaris.
"I caused it to be carried into the house and the door of the death-
chamber carefully locked. But when I returned to the men. I had to
prevent them from tearing Rufus to pieces for having lost them the large
reward which Caesar had promised for the living prisoner."
"And you," cried Apollinaris, excitedly, "had to look on while our men,
honest soldiers, plundered this house--which entertained many of us so
hospitably--as if they had been a band of robbers! I saw them dragging
out things which were used in our service only yesterday."
"The emperor--his permission!" sighed Flavius. "You know how it is. The
lowest instincts of every nature come out at such a time as this, and the
sun shines upon it all. Many a poor wretch of yesterday will go to bed a
wealthy man to-day. But, for all that, I believe much was hidden from
them. In the room of the mistress of the house whence I have just come,
a fire was still blazing in which a variety of objects had been burned.
The flames had destroyed a picture--a small painted fragment betrayed the
fact. They perhaps possessed masterpieces of Apelles or Zeuxis. This
woman's hatred would lead her to destroy them rather than let them fall
into the hands of her imperial enemy; and who can blame her?"
"It was her daughter's portrait," said Nemesianus, unguardedly.
The legate turned upon him in surprise. "Then she confided in you?" he
asked.
"Yes," returned the tribune, "and we are proud to have been so honored by
her. Before she went to her death she took leave of us. We let her go;
for we at least could not bring ourselves to lay hands upon a noble
lady."
The officer looked sternly at him and exclaimed, angrily:
"Do you suppose, young upstart, that it was less painful to me and many
another among us? Cursed be this day, that has soiled our weapons with
the blood of women and slaves, and may every drachma which I take from
the plunder here bring ill-luck with it! Call the accident that has kept
you out of this despicable work a stroke of good fortune, but beware how
you look down upon those whose oath forces them to crush out every human
feeling from their hearts! The soldier who takes part with his
commander's enemy--"
He was interrupted by the entrance of Johanna, the Christian, who saluted
the legate, and then stood confused and embarrassed by the side of
Apollinaris's bed. The furtive glance she cast first at the side-room
and then at Nemesianus did not pass unobserved by the quick eye of the
commander, and with soldierly firmness he insisted on knowing what was
concealed behind that door.
"An unfortunate man," was Apollinaris's answer.
"Seleukus, the master of this house?" asked Quintus Flavius, sternly.
"No," replied Nemesianus. "It is only a poor, wounded painter. And yet
--the praetorians will go through fire and water for you, if you deliver
up this man to them as their booty. But if you are what I hold you to
be--"
"The opinion of hot-headed boys is of as little consequence to me as the
favor of my subordinates," interposed the commander. "Whatever my con
science tells me is right, I shall do. Quick, now! Who is in there?"
"The brother of the maiden for whose sake Caesar--" stammered the wounded
man.
"The maiden whom you have to thank for that disfigured face?" cried the
legate. "You are true Aurelians, you boys; and, though you may doubt
whether I am the man you take me for, I confess with pleasure that you
are exactly as I would wish to have you. The praetorians have slain your
friend and servant; I give you that man to make amends for it."
With deep emotion Nemesianus seized his old friend's hands, and
Apollinaris spoke words of gratitude to him from his couch. The officer
would not listen to their thanks, and walked toward the door; but Johanna
stood before him, and entreated him to allow the twins, whose servant had
been killed, to take another, from whom they need have no fear of
treachery. He had been captured in the impluvium by the praetorians
while trying, in the face of every danger, to enter the house where the
painter lay, to whose father he had belonged for many years. He would be
able to tend both Apollinaris and Melissa's brother, and make it possible
to keep Alexander's hiding-place a secret. The soldiery would be certain
to penetrate as far as this, and other lives would be endangered if they
should bear off the faithful servant and force him on the rack to
disclose where Melissa's father and relatives were hidden.
The legate promised to insure the freedom of Argutis.
A few more words of thanks and farewell, and Quintus had fulfilled his
mission to the Aurelians. Shortly afterward the tuba sounded to assemble
the plunderers still scattered about Seleukus's house, and Nemesianus saw
the men marching in small companies into the great hall. They were
followed by their armor-bearers, loaded with treasure of every kind; and
three chariots, drawn by fine horses, belonging to Seleukus and his
murdered wife, conveyed such booty as was too heavy for men to carry. In
the last of these stood the statue of Eros by Praxiteles. The glorious
sunshine lighted up the smiling marble face; with the charm of bewitching
beauty he seemed to gaze at the lurid crimson pools on the ground, and at
the armed cohorts which marched in front to shed more blood and rouse
more hatred.
As Nemesianus withdrew from the window, Argutis came into the room. The
legate had released him; and when Johanna conducted the faithful fellow
to Alexander's bedside, and he saw the youth lying pale and with closed
eyes, as though death had claimed him for his prey, the old man dropped
on his knees, sobbing loudly.
CHAPTER XXXII.
While Alexander, well nursed by old Argutis and Johanna, lay in high
fever, raving in his delirium of Agatha and his brother Philip, and still
oftener calling for his sister, Melissa was alone in her hiding-place.
It was spacious enough, indeed, for she was concealed in the rooms
prepared to receive the Exoterics before the mysteries of Serapis. A
whole suite of apartments, sleeping-rooms and halls, were devoted to
their use, extending all across the building from east to west. Some of
these were square, others round or polygonal, but most of them much
longer than they were wide. Painters and sculptors had everywhere
covered the walls with pictures in color and in high relief, calculated
to terrify or bewilder the uninitiated. The statues, of which there were
many, bore strange symbols, the mosaic flooring was covered with images
intended to excite the fancy and the fears of the beholder.
When Melissa first entered her little sleeping room, darkness had
concealed all this from her gaze. She had been only too glad to obey the
matron's bidding and go to rest at once. Euryale had remained with her
some time, sitting on the edge of the bed to hear all that had happened
to the girl during the last few hours, and she had impressed on her how
she should conduct herself in case of her hiding-place being searched.
When she presently bade her good-night, Melissa repeated what the
waiting-woman Johanna had told her of the life of Jesus Christ; but she
expressed her interest in the person of the Redeemer in such a strange
and heathen fashion that Euryale only regretted that she could not at
once enlighten the exhausted girl. With a hearty kiss she left her to
rest, and Melissa was no sooner alone than sleep closed her weary young
eyes.
It was near morning when she fell asleep; and when she awoke, accustomed
as she was to early hours, she was startled to see how much of the day
was spent. So she rose hastily, and then perceived that the lady Euryale
must already have come to see her, for she found fresh milk by the
bedside, and some rolls of manuscript which had not been there the day
before. Her first thought was for her imperiled relatives--her father,
her brothers, her lover--and she prayed for each, appealing first to the
manes of her mother, and then to mighty Serapis and kindly Isis, who
would surely hear her in these precincts dedicate to them.
The danger of those she loved made her forget her own, and she vividly
pictured to herself what might be happening to each, what each one might
be doing to protect her and save her from the spies of the despot, who by
this time must have received her missive. Still, the doubt whether he
might not, after all, be magnanimous and forgive her, rose again and
again to her mind, though everything led her to think it impossible.
During her prayer and in her care for the others she had felt reasonably
calm; but at the first thought of Caesar a painful agitation took
possession of her soul, and to overcome it she began an inspection of her
spacious hiding-place, where the lady Euryale had prepared her to be
amazed. And, indeed, it was not merely strange, but it filled her heart
and mind with astonishment and terror. Wherever she looked, mystic
figures puzzled her; and Melissa turned from a picture in relief of
beheaded figures with their feet in the air, and a representation of the
damned stewing in great caldrons and fanning themselves with diabolical
irony, only to see a painting of a female form over whose writhing body
boats were sailing, or a four-headed ram, or birds with human heads
flying away with a mummified corpse. On the ceiling, too, there was
strange imagery; and when she looked at the floor to rest her bewildered
fancy, her eyes fell on a troop of furies pursuing the wicked, or a pool
of fire by which horrible monsters kept guard.