Cleopatra, Volume 6.

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CLEOPATRA

By Georg Ebers

Volume 6.

CHAPTER XIII.

During these hours of rest Iras and Charmian had watched in turn beside
Cleopatra. When she rose, the younger attendant rendered her the
necessary services. She was to devote herself to her mistress until the
evening; for her companion, who now stood in her way, was not to return
earlier. Before Charmian left, she had seen that her apartments--in
which Barine, since the Queen had placed her in her charge, had been a
welcome guest--were carefully watched. The commander of the Macedonian
guard, who years before had vainly sought her favour, and finally had
become the most loyal of her friends, had promised to keep them closely.

Yet Iras knew how to profit by her mistress's sleep and the absence of
her aunt. She had learned that she would be shut out of her apartments,
and therefore from Barine also. Ere any step could be taken against the
prisoner, she must first arrange the necessary preliminaries with Alexas.
The failure of her expectation of seeing her rival trampled in the dust
had transformed her jealous resentment into hatred, and though she was
her niece, she even transferred a portion of it to Charmian, who had
placed herself between her and her victim.

She had sent for the Syrian, but he, too, had gone to rest at a late hour
and kept her waiting a long time. The reception which the impatient girl
bestowed was therefore by no means cordial, but her manner soon grew more
friendly.

First Alexas boasted of having induced the Queen to commit Barine's fate
to him. If he should try her at noon and find her guilty, there was
nothing to prevent him from compelling her to drink the poisoned cup or
having her strangled before evening. But the matter would be dangerous,
because the singer's friends were numerous and by no means powerless.
Yet, in the depths of her heart, Cleopatra desired nothing more ardently
than to rid herself of her dangerous rival. But he knew the great ones
of the earth. If he acted energetically and brought matters to a speedy
close, the Queen, to avoid evil gossip, would burden him with her own
act. Antony's mood could not be predicted, and the Syrian's weal or woe
depended on his favour. Besides, the execution of the singer at the last
Adonis festival might have a dangerous effect upon the people of
Alexandria. They were already greatly excited, and his brother, who knew
them, said that some were overwhelmed with sorrow, and others ready, in
their fury, to rise in a bloody rebellion. Everything was to be feared
from this rabble, but Philostratus understood how to persuade them to
many things, and Alexas had just secured his aid.

Alexas had really succeeded in the work of reconciliation. During the
orator's married life with Barine she had forbidden her brother-in-law
the house, and her husband had quarrelled with the brother who sought his
wife. But after the latter had risen to a high place in Antony's favour,
and been loaded with gold by his lavish hand, Philostratus had again
approached him to claim his share of the new wealth. And the source from
which Alexas drew flowed so abundantly that his favourite did not find it
difficult to give. Both men were as unprincipled as they were lavish,
and experience taught them that base natures always have at their
disposal a plank with which to bridge chasms. If it is of gold, it will
be crossed the more speedily. Such was the case here, and of late it had
become specially firm; for each needed the other's aid.

Alexas loved Barine, while Philostratus no longer cared for her. On the
other hand, he hated Dion with so ardent a thirst for revenge that, to
obtain it, he would have resigned even the hope of fresh gains. The
humiliation inflicted upon him by the arrogant Macedonian noble, and the
derision which through his efforts had been heaped upon him, haunted him
like importunate pursuers; and he felt that he could only rid himself of
them with the source of his disgrace. Without his brother's aid, he
would have been content to assail Dion with his slandering tongue; with
his powerful assistance he could inflict a heavier injury upon him,
perhaps even rob him of liberty and life. They had just made an
agreement by which Philostratus pledged himself to reconcile the
populace to any punishment that might be inflicted upon Barine,
and Alexas promised to help his brother take a bloody vengeance
upon Dion the Macedonian.

Barine's death could be of no service to Alexas. The sight of her beauty
had fired his heart a second time, and he was resolved to make her his
own. In the dungeon, perhaps by torture, she should be forced to grasp
his helping hand. All this would permit no delay. Everything must be
done before the return of Antony, who was daily expected. Alexas's
lavish patron had made him so rich that he could bear to lose his favour
for the sake of this object. Even without it, he could maintain a
household with royal magnificence in some city of his Syrian home.

On receiving the favourite's assurance that he would remove Barine from
Charmian's protection on the morrow, Iras became more gracious. She
could make no serious objection to his statement that the new trial might
not, it is true, end in a sentence of death, but the verdict would
probably be transportation to the mines, or something of the sort.

Then Alexas cautiously tested Iras's feelings towards his brother's
mortal foe. They were hostile; yet when the favourite intimated that he,
too, ought to be given up to justice, she showed so much hesitation, that
Alexas stopped abruptly and turned the conversation upon Barine. Here
she promised assistance with her former eager zeal, and it was settled
that the arrest should be made the following morning during the hours of
Charmian's attendance upon the Queen.

Iras had valuable counsel to offer. She was familiar with one of the
prisons, whose doors she had opened to many a hapless mortal whose
disappearance, in her opinion, might be of service to the Queen. She had
deemed it a duty, aided by the Keeper of the Seal, to anticipate her
mistress in cases where her kind heart would have found it difficult to
pronounce a severe sentence, and Cleopatra had permitted it, though
without commendation or praise. What happened within its walls--thanks
to the silence of the warder--never passed beyond the portals. If Barine
cursed her life there, she would still fare better than she, Iras, who
during the past few nights had been on the brink of despair whenever she
thought of the man who had disdained her love and abandoned her for
another.

As the Syrian held out his hand to take leave, she asked bluntly

"And Dion?"

"He cannot be set free," was the reply, "for he loves Barine; nay, the
fool was on the eve of leading her home to his beautiful palace as its
mistress."

"Is that true, really true?" asked Iras, whose cheeks and lips lost every
tinge of colour, though she succeeded in maintaining her composure.

"He confessed it yesterday in a letter to his uncle, the Keeper of the
Seal, in which he entreated him to do his utmost for his chosen bride,
whom he would never resign. But Zeno has no liking for this niece. Do
you wish to see the letter?"

"Then, of course, he cannot be set at liberty," replied Iras, and there
was additional shrillness in her voice. "He will do everything in his
power for the woman he loves, and that is much--far more than you, who
are half a stranger here, suspect. The Macedonian families stand by each
other. He is a member of the council. The bands of the Ephebi will
support him to a man. And the populace?--He lately spoiled the game of
your brother, who was acting for me, in a way. He was finally dragged
out of the basin of the fountain, dripping with water and overwhelmed
with shame."

"For that very reason his mouth must be closed."

Iras nodded assent, but after a short pause she exclaimed angrily:
"I will help you to silence him, but not forever. Do you hear?
Theodotus's saying about the dead dogs which do not bite brought no
blessing to any one who followed it. There are other ways of getting rid
of this man."

"A bird sang that you were not unfriendly to him."

"A bird? Then it was probably an owl, which cannot see in the daylight.
His worst enemy, your brother, would probably sacrifice himself for his
welfare sooner than I."

"Then I shall begin to feel sympathy for this Dion."

"I saw recently that your compassion surpassed mine. Death is not the
hardest punishment."

"Is that the cause of this gracious respite?"

"Perhaps so. But there are other matters to be considered here. First,
the condition of the times. Everything is tottering, even the royal
power, which a short time ago was a wall which concealed many things and
afforded shelter from every assault. Then Dion himself. I have already
numbered those who will support him. Since the defeat at Actium, the
Queen can no longer exclaim to that many-headed monster, the people,
'You must,' but 'I entreat.' The others--"

"The first considerations are enough; but may I be permitted to know what
my wise friend has awarded to the hapless wight from whom she withdrew
her favour?"

"First, imprisonment here at Lochias. He has stained his hands with the
blood of Caesarion, the King of kings. That is high treason, even in the
eyes of the people. Try to obtain the order for the arrest this very
day."

"Whenever I can disturb the Queen with such matters."

"Not for nay sake, but to save her from injury. Away with everything
which can cloud her intellect in these decisive days! First, away with
Barine, who spoiled her return home; and then let us take care of the man
who would be capable, for this woman's sake, of causing an insurrection
in Alexandria. The great cares associated with the state and the throne
are hers; for the minor ones of the toilet and the heart I will provide."

Here she was interrupted by one of Cleopatra's waiting-maids. The Queen
had awakened, and Iras hastened to her post.

As she passed Charmian's apartments and saw two handsome soldiers,
belonging to the Macedonian body-guard, pacing to and fro on duty before
them, her face darkened. It was against her alone that Charmian was
protecting Barine. She had been harshly reproved by the older woman on
account of the artist's daughter, who had been the source of so many
incidents which had caused her pain, and Iras regretted that she had ever
confided to her aunt her love for Dion. But, no matter what might
happen, the upas-tree whence emanated all these tortures, anxieties, and
vexations, must be rooted out--stricken from the ranks of the living.

Ere she entered the Queen's anteroom she had mentally pronounced sentence
of death on her enemy. Her inventive brain was now busy in devising
means to induce the Syrian to undertake its execution. If this stone of
offence was removed it would again be possible to live in harmony with
Charmian. Dion would be free, and then, much as he had wounded her, she
would defend him from the hatred of Philostratus and his brother.

She entered the Queen's presence with a lighter heart. The death of a
condemned person had long since ceased to move her deeply. While
rendering the first services to her mistress, who had been much refreshed
by her sleep, her face grew brighter and brighter; for Cleopatra
voluntarily told her that she was glad to have her attendance, and not
be constantly annoyed by the same disagreeable matter, which must soon
be settled.

In fact, Charmian, conscious that no one else at court would have
ventured to do so, had never grown weary, spite of many a rebuff, of
pleading Barine's cause until, the day before, Cleopatra, in a sudden
fit of anger, had commanded her not to mention the mischief-maker again.

When Charmian soon after requested permission to let Iras take her place
the following day, the Queen already regretted the harsh reproof she had
given her friend, and, while cordially granting the desired leave, begged
her to attribute her angry impatience to the cares which burdened her.
"And when you show me your kind, faithful face again," she concluded,
"you will have remembered that a true friend withholds from an unhappy
woman whom she loves whatever will shadow more deeply her already clouded
life. This Barine's very name sounds like a jeer at the composure I
maintain with so much difficulty. I do not wish to hear it again."

The words were uttered in a tone so affectionate and winning, that
Charmian's vexation melted like ice in the sun. Yet she left the Queen's
presence anxious and troubled; for ere she quitted the room Cleopatra
remarked that she had committed the singer's affairs to Alexas. She was
now doubly eager to obtain a day's freedom, for she knew the unprincipled
favourite's feelings towards the young beauty, and longed to discuss with
Archibius the best means of guarding her from the worst perils.

When at a late hour she went to rest, she was served by the Nubian maid,
who had accompanied her to the court from her parents' home. She came
from the Cataract, where she had been bought when the family of Alypius
accompanied the child Cleopatra to the island of Philae. Anukis was
given to Charmian, who at the time was just entering womanhood, as the
first servant who was her sole property, and she had proved so clever,
skilful, apt to learn, and faithful, that her mistress took her, as her
personal attendant, to the palace.

Charmian's warm, unselfish love for the Queen was equalled by Anukis's
devotion to the mistress who had long since made her free, and had become
so strongly attached to her that the Nubian's interests were little less
regarded than her own. Her sound, keen judgment and natural wit had
gained a certain renown in the palace, and as Cleopatra often
condescended to rouse her to an apt answer, Antony had done so, too;
and since the slight crook in the back, which she had from childhood,
had grown into a hump, he gave her the name of Aisopion--the female
AEsop. All the Queen's attendants now used it, and though others of
lower rank did the same, she permitted it, though her ready wit would
have supplied her tongue with a retort sharp enough to respond to any
word which displeased her.

But she knew the life and fables of AEsop, who had also once been a
slave, and deemed it an honour to be compared with him.

When Charmian had left Cleopatra and sought her chamber, she found Barine
sound asleep, but Anukis was awaiting her, and her mistress told her
with what deep anxiety for Barine she had quitted the presence of the
Queen. She knew that the Nubian was fond of the young matron, whom in
her childhood she had carried in her arms, and whose father, Leonax, had
often jested with her. The maid had watched her career with much
interest, and while Barine had been her mistress's guest her efforts to
amuse and soothe her were unceasing.

She had gone every morning to Berenike to ask tidings of Dion's health,
and always brought favourable news. Anukis knew Philostratus and his
brother, too, and as she liked Antony, who jested with her so kindly, she
grieved to see an unprincipled fellow like Alexas his chief confidant.
She knew the plots with which the Syrian had persecuted Barine, and when
Charmian told her that the Queen had committed the young beauty's fate to
this man's keeping her dark face grew fairly livid; but she forced
herself to conceal the terror which the news inspired. Her mistress was
also aware what this choice meant to Barine. But Anukis would have
thought it wrong to disturb Charmian's sleep by revealing her own
distress. It was fortunate that she was going early the next morning to
seek the aid of Archibius, whom Anukis believed to be the wisest of men;
but this by no means soothed her. She knew the fable of the lion and the
mouse, which had been told in her home long before the time of the author
for whom she was nicknamed, and already more than once she had been in a
position to render far greater and more powerful persons an important
service. To soothe Charmian to sleep and turn her thoughts in another
direction, she told her about Dion, whom she had found much better that
day, how tenderly he seemed to love Barine, and how touchingly patient
and worthy of her father the daughter of Leonax had been.

After her mistress had fallen asleep she went to the hall where, spite of
the late hour, she expected to meet some of the servants--sure of being
greeted as a welcome guest. When, a short time later, Alexas's body-
slave appeared, she filled his wire cup, sat down by his side, and tried
with all the powers at her command to win his confidence. And so well
did the elderly Nubian succeed that Marsyas, a handsome young Ligurian,
after she had gone, declared that Aisopion's jokes and stories were
enough to bring the dead to life, and it was as pleasant to talk
seriously with the brown-skinned monster as to dally with a fair-haired
sweetheart.

After Charmian had left the palace the following morning, Anukis again
sought Marsyas and learned from him for what purpose and at what hour
Iras had summoned Alexas. His master was continually whispering with the
languishing Macedonian.

When Anukis returned, Barine seemed troubled because she brought no
tidings from her mother and Dion; but the Nubian entreated her to have
patience, and gave her some books and a spindle, that she might have
occupation in her solitude. She, Anukis, must go to the kitchen, because
she had heard yesterday that the cook had bought some mushrooms, which
might be poisonous; she knew the fungi and wanted to see them.

Then, passing into Charmian's chamber, she glided through the corridor
which connected the apartments of Cleopatra's confidential attendants,
and slipped into Iras's room. When Alexas entered she was concealed
behind one of the hangings which covered the walls of the reception-room.

After the Syrian had retired and Iras had been called away, Anukis
returned to Barine and said that the mushrooms had really been poisonous,
and of the deadliest species. They had been cooked, and she must go out
to seek an antidote. Since a precious human life might be at stake,
Barine would not wish to keep her.

"Go," said the latter, kindly. "But if you are the old obliging
Aisopion, you won't object to going a little farther."

"And inquiring at the house near the Paneum garden," added Anukis.
"That was already settled. Longing is also a poison for a loving heart,
and its antidote is good news."

With these laughing words she left her favourite; but as soon as she was
out of doors her black brow became lined with earnest thought, and she
stood pondering a long time. At last she went to the Bruchium to hire a
donkey to ride to Kanopus, where she hoped to find Archibius. It was
difficult to reach the nearest stand; for a great crowd had assembled on
the quay between the Lochias and the Corner of the Muses, and groups of
the common people, sailors, and slaves were constantly flocking hither.
But she at last forced her way to the spot and, while the driver was
helping her to mount the animal she had chosen, she asked what had
attracted the throng, and he answered:

"They are tearing down the house of the old Museum fungus, Didymus."

"How can that be?" cried the startled woman. "The good old man!"

"Good?" repeated the driver, scornfully. "He's a traitor, who has
caused all the trouble. Philostratus, the brother of the great Alexas,
a friend of Mark Antony, told us so. He wanted to prove it, so it must
be true. Hear the shouts, and how the stones are flying! Yes, yes. His
granddaughter and her lover set an ambush for the King Caesarion. They
would have killed him, but the watch interfered, and now he lies wounded
on his couch. If mighty Isis does not lend her aid, the young prince's
life will soon be over."

Then, turning to the donkey, he dealt him two severe blows on the right
and left haunches, shouting: "Hi, Grey! It does one good to hear that
royal backs have room for the cudgel too."

Meanwhile, the Nubian was hesitating whether she should not first turn
the donkey to the right and seek Didymus; but Barine was threatened by
greater peril, and her life was of more value than the welfare of the
aged pair. This decided the question, and she rode forward.

The donkey and his driver did their best, but they came too late;
for in the little palace at Kanopus, Anukis learned from the porter
that Archibius had gone to the city with his old friend Timagenes,
the historian, who lived in Rome, and seemed to have come to Alexandria
as an envoy.

Charmian, too, had been here, but also failed to find the master of the
house, and followed him. Evil tidings-which, owing to the loss of time
involved, might prove fatal. If the donkey had only been swifter! True,
Archibius's stable was full of fine animals, but who was she that she
should presume to use them? Yet she had gained something which rendered
her the equal of many who were born free and occupied a higher station--
the reputation for trustworthiness and wisdom; and relying upon this, she
told the faithful old steward, as far as possible, what was at stake, and
soon after he himself took her, both mounted on swift mules, to the city
and the Paneum garden.

He chose the nearest road thither through the Gate of the Sun and the
Kanopic Way. Usually at this hour it was crowded with people, but to-day
few persons were astir. All the idlers had thronged to the Bruchium and
the harbour to see the returning ships of the vanquished fleet, hear
something new, witness the demonstrations of joy, the sacrifices and
processions, and--if Fortune favoured--meet the Queen and relieve their
overflowing hearts by acclamations.

When the carriage turned towards the left and approached the Paneum,
progress for the first time became difficult. A dense crowd had gathered
around the hill on whose summit the sanctuary of Pan dominated the
spacious garden. Anukis's eye perceived the tall figure of Philostratus.
Was the mischief-maker everywhere? This time he seemed to encounter
opposition, for loud shouts interrupted his words. Just as the carriage
passed he pointed to the row of houses in which the widow of Leonax
lived, but violent resistance followed the gesture.

Anukis perceived what restrained the crowd; for, as the equipage
approached its destination, a body of armed youths stopped it. Their
finely-formed limbs, steeled by the training of the Palaestra, and the
raven, chestnut, and golden locks floating around their well-shaped
heads, were indeed beautiful. They were a band of the Ephebi, formerly
commanded by Archibius, and to whose leadership more recently Dion had
been elected. The youths had heard what had occurred--that imprisonment,
perhaps even worse disaster, threatened him. At any other time it would
scarcely have been possible to oppose the decree of the Government and
guard their imperilled friend, but in these dark days the rulers must
deal with them. Though they were loyal to the Queen, and had resolved,
spite of her defeat, to support her cause, as soon as she needed them,
they would not suffer Dion to be punished for a crime which, in their
eyes, was an honour. Their determination to protect him grew more eager
with every vexatious delay on the part of the city council to deal with a
matter which concerned one of their own body. They had not yet decided
whether to demand a full pardon or only a mild sentence for the man who
had wounded the "King of kings," the son of the sovereign. Moreover, the
quiet Caesarion, still subject to his tutor, had not understood how to
win the favour of the Ephebi. The weakling never appeared in the
Palaestra, which even the great Mark Antony did not disdain to visit.
The latter had more than once given the youths assembled there proofs of
his giant strength, and his son Antyllus also frequently shared their
exercises. Dion had merely dealt Caesarion with his clenched fist one of
the blows which every one must encounter in the arena.

Philotas of Amphissa, the pupil of Didymus, had been the first to inform
them of the attack and, with fiery zeal, had used his utmost power to
atone for the wrong done to his master's granddaughter. His appeal had
roused the most eager sympathy. The Ephebi believed themselves strong
enough to defend their friend against any one and, if the worst should
come, they knew they would be sustained by the council, the Exegetus, the
captain of the guard--a brave Macedonian, who had once been an ornament
of their own band--and the numerous clients of Dion and his family.
There was not a single weakling among them. They had already found an
opportunity to prove this; for, though they had arrived too late to
protect Didymus's property from injury, they had checked the fury of the
mob whose passions Philostratus had aroused, and forced back the crowd
whom the Syrian led to Barine's dwelling to devote it to the same fate.

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