Chapter VI
A REUNION OF DIFFERENT ACTORS. STREAMS THAT FLOWED APPARENTLY APARTRUSH INTO ONE GULF.
IMPATIENT to learn whether the fell drug had yet been administered byJulia to his hated rival, and with what effect, Arbaces resolved, as theevening came on, to seek her house, and satisfy his suspense. It wascustomary, as I have before said, for men at that time to carry abroadwith them the tablets and the stilus attached to their girdle; and withthe girdle they were put off when at home. In fact, under theappearance of a literary instrument, the Romans carried about with themin that same stilus a very sharp and formidable weapon. It was with hisstilus that Cassius stabbed Caesar in the senate-house. Taking, then,his girdle and his cloak, Arbaces left his house, supporting his steps,which were still somewhat feeble (though hope and vengeance hadconspired greatly with his own medical science, which was profound, torestore his natural strength), by his long staff--Arbaces took his wayto the villa of Diomed.
And beautiful is the moonlight of the south! In those climes the nightso quickly glides into the day, that twilight scarcely makes a bridgebetween them. One moment of darker purple in the sky--of a thousandrose-hues in the water--of shade half victorious over light; and thenburst forth at once the countless stars--the moon is up--night hasresumed her reign!
Brightly then, and softly bright, fell the moonbeams over the antiquegrove consecrated to Cybele--the stately trees, whose date went beyondtradition, cast their long shadows over the soil, while through theopenings in their boughs the stars shone, still and frequent. Thewhiteness of the small sacellum in the centre of the grove, amidst thedark foliage, had in it something abrupt and startling; it recalled atonce the purpose to which the wood was consecrated--its holiness andsolemnity.
With a swift and stealthy pace, Calenus, gliding under the shade of thetrees, reached the chapel, and gently putting back the boughs thatcompletely closed around its rear, settled himself in his concealment; aconcealment so complete, what with the fane in front and the treesbehind, that no unsuspicious passenger could possibly have detected him.Again, all was apparently solitary in the grove: afar off you heardfaintly the voices of some noisy revellers or the music that playedcheerily to the groups that then, as now in those climates, during thenights of summer, lingered in the streets, and enjoyed, in the fresh airand the liquid moonlight, a milder day.
From the height on which the grove was placed, you saw through theintervals of the trees the broad and purple sea, rippling in thedistance, the white villas of Stabiae in the curving shore, and the dimLectiarian hills mingling with the delicious sky. Presently the tallfigure of Arbaces, in his way to the house of Diomed, entered theextreme end of the grove; and at the same instant Apaecides, also boundto his appointment with Olinthus, crossed the Egyptian's path.
'Hem! Apaecides,' said Arbaces, recognizing the priest at a glance;'when last we met, you were my foe. I have wished since then to seeyou, for I would have you still my pupil and my friend.'
Apaecides started at the voice of the Egyptian; and halting abruptly,gazed upon him with a countenance full of contending, bitter, andscornful emotions.
'Villain and impostor!' said he at length; 'thou hast recovered thenfrom the jaws of the grave! But think not again to weave around me thyguilty meshes. Retiarius, I am armed against thee!'
'Hush!' said Arbaces, in a very low voice--but his pride, which in thatdescendant of kings was great, betrayed the wound it received from theinsulting epithets of the priest in the quiver of his lip and the flushof his tawny brow. 'Hush! more low! thou mayest be overheard, and ifother ears than mine had drunk those sounds--why...'
'Dost thou threaten?--what if the whole city had heard me?'
'The manes of my ancestors would not have suffered me to forgive thee.But, hold, and hear me. Thou art enraged that I would have offeredviolence to thy sister. Nay, peace, peace, but one instant, I praythee. Thou art right; it was the frenzy of passion and of jealousy--Ihave repented bitterly of my madness. Forgive me; I, who never imploredpardon of living man, beseech thee now to forgive me. Nay, I will atonethe insult--I ask thy sister in marriage--start not--consider--what isthe alliance of yon holiday Greek compared to mine? Wealthunbounded--birth that in its far antiquity leaves your Greek and Romannames the things of yesterday--science--but that thou knowest! Give methy sister, and my whole life shall atone a moment's error.'
'Egyptian, were even I to consent, my sister loathes the very air thoubreathest: but I have my own wrongs to forgive--I may pardon thee thatthou hast made me a tool to thy deceits, but never that thou hastseduced me to become the abettor of thy vices--a polluted and a perjuredman. Tremble!--even now I prepare the hour in which thou and thy falsegods shall be unveiled. Thy lewd and Circean life shall be dragged today--thy mumming oracles disclosed--the fane of the idol Isis shall be abyword and a scorn--the name of Arbaces a mark for the hisses ofexecration! Tremble!'
The flush on the Egyptian's brow was succeeded by a livid paleness. Helooked behind, before, around, to feel assured that none were by; andthen he fixed his dark and dilating eye on the priest, with such a gazeof wrath and menace, that one, perhaps, less supported than Apaecides bythe fervent daring of a divine zeal, could not have faced withunflinching look that lowering aspect. As it was, however, the youngconvert met it unmoved, and returned it with an eye of proud defiance.
'Apaecides,' said the Egyptian, in a tremulous and inward tone, 'beware!What is it thou wouldst meditate? Speakest thou--reflect, pause beforethou repliest--from the hasty influences of wrath, as yet divining nosettled purpose, or from some fixed design?'
'I speak from the inspiration of the True God, whose servant I now am,'answered the Christian, boldly; 'and in the knowledge that by His gracehuman courage has already fixed the date of thy hypocrisy and thydemon's worship; ere thrice the sun has dawned, thou wilt know all!Dark sorcerer, tremble, and farewell!'
All the fierce and lurid passions which he inherited from his nation andhis clime, at all times but ill concealed beneath the blandness of craftand the coldness of philosophy, were released in the breast of theEgyptian. Rapidly one thought chased another; he saw before him anobstinate barrier to even a lawful alliance with Ione--thefellow-champion of Glaucus in the struggle which had baffled hisdesigns--the reviler of his name--the threatened desecrator of thegoddess he served while he disbelieved--the avowed and approachingrevealer of his own impostures and vices. His love, his repute, nay,his very life, might be in danger--the day and hour seemed even to havebeen fixed for some design against him. He knew by the words of theconvert that Apaecides had adopted the Christian faith: he knew theindomitable zeal which led on the proselytes of that creed. Such washis enemy; he grasped his stilus--that enemy was in his power! They werenow before the chapel; one hasty glance once more he cast around; he sawnone near--silence and solitude alike tempted him.
'Die, then, in thy rashness!' he muttered; 'away, obstacle to my rushingfates!'
And just as the young Christian had turned to depart, Arbaces raised hishand high over the left shoulder of Apaecides, and plunged his sharpweapon twice into his breast.
Apaecides fell to the ground pierced to the heart--he fell mute, withouteven a groan, at the very base of the sacred chapel.
Arbaces gazed upon him for a moment with the fierce animal joy ofconquest over a foe. But presently the full sense of the danger towhich he was exposed flashed upon him; he wiped his weapon carefully inthe long grass, and with the very garments of his victim; drew his cloakround him, and was about to depart, when he saw, coming up the path,right before him, the figure of a young man, whose steps reeled andvacillated strangely as he advanced: the quiet moonlight streamed fullupon his face, which seemed, by the whitening ray, colorless as marble.The Egyptian recognized the face and form of Glaucus. The unfortunateand benighted Greek was chanting a disconnected and mad song, composedfrom snatches of hymns and sacred odes, all jarringly woven together.
'Ha!' thought the Egyptian, instantaneous
ly divining his state and itsterrible cause; 'so, then, the hell-draught works, and destiny hath sentthee hither to crush two of my foes at once!'
Quickly, even ere this thought occurred to him, he had withdrawn on oneside of the chapel, and concealed himself amongst the boughs; from thatlurking place he watched, as a tiger in his lair, the advance of hissecond victim. He noted the wandering and restless fire in the brightand beautiful eyes of the Athenian; the convulsions that distorted hisstatue-like features, and writhed his hueless lip. He saw that theGreek was utterly deprived of reason. Nevertheless, as Glaucus came upto the dead body of Apaecides, from which the dark red stream flowedslowly over the grass, so strange and ghastly a spectacle could not failto arrest him, benighted and erring as was his glimmering sense. Hepaused, placed his hand to his brow, as if to collect himself, and thensaying:
'What ho! Endymion, sleepest thou so soundly? What has the moon said tothee? Thou makest me jealous; it is time to wake'--he stooped down withthe intention of lifting up the body.
Forgetting--feeling not--his own debility, the Egyptian sprung from hishiding-place, and, as the Greek bent, struck him forcibly to the ground,over the very body of the Christian; then, raising his powerful voice toits highest pitch, he shouted:
'Ho, citizens--oh! help me!--run hither--hither!--A murder--a murderbefore your very fane! Help, or the murderer escapes!' As he spoke, heplaced his foot on the breast of Glaucus: an idle and superfluousprecaution; for the potion operating with the fall, the Greek lay theremotionless and insensible, save that now and then his lips gave vent tosome vague and raving sounds.
As he there stood awaiting the coming of those his voice still continuedto summons, perhaps some remorse, some compunctious visitings--fordespite his crimes he was human--haunted the breast of the Egyptian; thedefenceless state of Glaucus--his wandering words--his shattered reason,smote him even more than the death of Apaecides, and he said, halfaudibly, to himself:
'Poor clay!--poor human reason; where is the soul now? I could sparethee, O my rival--rival never more! But destiny must be obeyed--mysafety demands thy sacrifice.' With that, as if to drown compunction, heshouted yet more loudly; and drawing from the girdle of Glaucus thestilus it contained, he steeped it in the blood of the murdered man, andlaid it beside the corpse.
And now, fast and breathless, several of the citizens came thronging tothe place, some with torches, which the moon rendered unnecessary, butwhich flared red and tremulously against the darkness of the trees; theysurrounded the spot. 'Lift up yon corpse,' said the Egyptian, 'andguard well the murderer.'
They raised the body, and great was their horror and sacred indignationto discover in that lifeless clay a priest of the adored and venerableIsis; but still greater, perhaps, was their surprise, when they foundthe accused in the brilliant and admired Athenian.
'Glaucus!' cried the bystanders, with one accord; 'is it even credible?'
'I would sooner,' whispered one man to his neighbor, 'believe it to bethe Egyptian himself.'
Here a centurion thrust himself into the gathering crowd, with an air ofauthority.
'How! blood spilt! who the murderer?'
The bystanders pointed to Glaucus.
'He!--by Mars, he has rather the air of being the victim!
'Who accuses him?'
'I,' said Arbaces, drawing himself up haughtily; and the jewels whichadorned his dress flashing in the eyes of the soldier, instantlyconvinced that worthy warrior of the witness's respectability.
'Pardon me--your name?' said he.
'Arbaces; it is well known methinks in Pompeii. Passing through thegrove, I beheld before me the Greek and the priest in earnestconversation. I was struck by the reeling motions of the first, hisviolent gestures, and the loudness of his voice; he seemed to me eitherdrunk or mad. Suddenly I saw him raise his stilus--I dartedforward--too late to arrest the blow. He had twice stabbed his victim,and was bending over him, when, in my horror and indignation, I struckthe murderer to the ground. He fell without a struggle, which makes meyet more suspect that he was not altogether in his senses when the crimewas perpetrated; for, recently recovered from a severe illness, my blowwas comparatively feeble, and the frame of Glaucus, as you see, isstrong and youthful.'
'His eyes are open now--his lips move,' said the soldier. 'Speak,prisoner, what sayest thou to the charge?'
'The charge--ha--ha! Why, it was merrily done; when the old hag set herserpent at me, and Hecate stood by laughing from ear to ear--what couldI do? But I am ill--I faint--the serpent's fiery tongue hath bitten me.Bear me to bed, and send for your physician; old AEsculapius himselfwill attend me if you let him know that I am Greek. Oh, mercy--mercy!I burn!--marrow and brain, I burn!'
And, with a thrilling and fierce groan, the Athenian fell back in thearms of the bystanders.
'He raves,' said the officer, compassionately; 'and in his delirium hehas struck the priest. Hath any one present seen him to-day!'
'I,' said one of the spectators, 'beheld him in the morning. He passedmy shop and accosted me. He seemed well and sane as the stoutest ofus!'
'And I saw him half an hour ago,' said another, 'passing up the streets,muttering to himself with strange gestures, and just as the Egyptian hasdescribed.'
'A corroboration of the witness! it must be too true. He must at allevents to the praetor; a pity, so young and so rich! But the crime isdreadful: a priest of Isis, in his very robes, too, and at the baseitself of our most ancient chapel!'
At these words the crowd were reminded more forcibly, than in theirexcitement and curiosity they had yet been, of the heinousness of thesacrilege. They shuddered in pious horror.
'No wonder the earth has quaked,' said one, 'when it held such amonster!'
'Away with him to prison--away!' cried they all.
And one solitary voice was heard shrilly and joyously above the rest:'The beasts will not want a gladiator now, Ho, ho, for the merry, merryshow!
It was the voice of the young woman whose conversation with Medon hasbeen repeated.
'True--true--it chances in season for the games!' cried several; and atthat thought all pity for the accused seemed vanished. His youth, hisbeauty, but fitted him better for the purpose of the arena.
'Bring hither some planks--or if at hand, a litter--to bear the dead,'said Arbaces: 'a priest of Isis ought scarcely to be carried to histemple by vulgar hands, like a butchered gladiator.'
At this the bystanders reverently laid the corpse of Apaecides on theground, with the face upwards; and some of them went in search of somecontrivance to bear the body, untouched by the profane.
It was just at that time that the crowd gave way to right and left as asturdy form forced itself through, and Olinthus the Christian stoodimmediately confronting the Egyptian. But his eyes, at first, onlyrested with inexpressible grief and horror on that gory side andupturned face, on which the agony of violent death yet lingered.
'Murdered!' he said. 'Is it thy zeal that has brought thee to this?Have they detected thy noble purpose, and by death prevented their ownshame?'
He turned his head abruptly, and his eyes fell full on the solemnfeatures of the Egyptian.
As he looked, you might see in his face, and even the slight shiver ofhis frame, the repugnance and aversion which the Christian felt for onewhom he knew to be so dangerous and so criminal. It was indeed the gazeof the bird upon the basilisk--so silent was it and so prolonged. Butshaking off the sudden chill that had crept over him, Olinthus extendedhis right arm towards Arbaces, and said, in a deep and loud voice:
'Murder hath been done upon this corpse! Where is the murderer? Standforth, Egyptian! For, as the Lord liveth, I believe thou art the man!'
An anxious and perturbed change might for one moment be detected on thedusky features of Arbaces; but it gave way to the frowning expression ofindignation and scorn, as, awed and arrested by the suddenness andvehemence of the charge, the spectators pressed nearer and nearer uponthe two more prominent acto
rs.
'I know,' said Arbaces, proudly, 'who is my accuser, and I guesswherefore he thus arraigns me. Men and citizens, know this man for themost bitter of the Nazarenes, if that or Christians be their propername! What marvel that in his malignity he dares accuse even anEgyptian of the murder of a priest of Egypt!'
'I know him! I know the dog!' shouted several voices. 'It is Olinthusthe Christian--or rather the Atheist--he denies the gods!'
'Peace, brethren,' said Olinthus, with dignity, 'and hear me! Thismurdered priest of Isis before his death embraced the Christianfaith--he revealed to me the dark sins, the sorceries of yonEgyptian--the mummeries and delusions of the fane of Isis. He was aboutto declare them publicly. He, a stranger, unoffending, without enemies!who should shed his blood but one of those who feared his witness? Whomight fear that testimony the most?--Arbaces, the Egyptian!'
'You hear him!' said Arbaces; 'you hear him! he blasphemes! Ask him ifhe believes in Isis!'
'Do I believe in an evil demon?' returned Olinthus, boldly.
A groan and shudder passed through the assembly. Nothing daunted, forprepared at every time for peril, and in the present excitement losingall prudence, the Christian continued:
'Back, idolaters! this clay is not for your vain and polluting rites--itis to us--to the followers of Christ, that the last offices due to aChristian belong. I claim this dust in the name of the great Creatorwho has recalled the spirit!'
With so solemn and commanding a voice and aspect the Christian spokethese words, that even the crowd forbore to utter aloud the execrationof fear and hatred which in their hearts they conceived. And never,perhaps, since Lucifer and the Archangel contended for the body of themighty Lawgiver, was there a more striking subject for the painter'sgenius than that scene exhibited. The dark trees--the stately fane--themoon full on the corpse of the deceased--the torches tossing wildly toand fro in the rear--the various faces of the motley audience--theinsensible form of the Athenian, supported, in the distance, and in theforeground, and above all, the forms of Arbaces and the Christian: thefirst drawn to its full height, far taller than the herd around; hisarms folded, his brow knit, his eyes fixed, his lip slightly curled indefiance and disdain. The last bearing, on a brow worn and furrowed,the majesty of an equal command--the features stern, yet frank--theaspect bold, yet open--the quiet dignity of the whole form impressedwith an ineffable earnestness, hushed, as it were, in a solemn sympathywith the awe he himself had created. His left hand pointing to thecorpse--his right hand raised to heaven.
The centurion pressed forward again.
'In the first place, hast thou, Olinthus, or whatever be thy name, anyproof of the charge thou hast made against Arbaces, beyond thy vaguesuspicions?'
Olinthus remained silent--the Egyptian laughed contemptuously.
'Dost thou claim the body of a priest of Isis as one of the Nazarene orChristian sect?'
'I do.'
'Swear then by yon fane, yon statue of Cybele, by yon most ancientsacellum in Pompeii, that the dead man embraced your faith!'
'Vain man! I disown your idols! I abhor your temples! How can I swearby Cybele then?'
'Away, away with the Atheist! away! the earth will swallow us, if wesuffer these blasphemers in a sacred grove--away with him to death!'
'To the beasts!' added a female voice in the centre of the crowd; 'weshall have one a-piece now for the lion and tiger!'
'If, O Nazarene, thou disbelievest in Cybele, which of our gods dostthou own?' resumed the soldier, unmoved by the cries around.
'None!'
'Hark to him! hark!' cried the crowd.
'O vain and blind!' continued the Christian, raising his voice: 'can youbelieve in images of wood and stone? Do you imagine that they have eyesto see, or ears to hear, or hands to help ye? Is yon mute thing carvedby man's art a goddess!--hath it made mankind?--alas! by mankind was itmade. Lo! convince yourself of its nothingness--of your folly.'
And as he spoke he strode across to the fane, and ere any of thebystanders were aware of his purpose, he, in his compassion or his zeal,struck the statue of wood from its pedestal.
'See!' cried he, 'your goddess cannot avenge herself. Is this a thingto worship?'
Further words were denied to him: so gross and daring a sacrilege--ofone, too, of the most sacred of their places of worship--filled even themost lukewarm with rage and horror. With one accord the crowd rushedupon him, seized, and but for the interference of the centurion, theywould have torn him to pieces.
'Peace!' said the soldier, authoritatively--'refer we this insolentblasphemer to the proper tribunal--time has been already wasted. Bearwe both the culprits to the magistrates; place the body of the priest onthe litter--carry it to his own home.'
At this moment a priest of Isis stepped forward. 'I claim theseremains, according to the custom of the priesthood.'
'The flamen be obeyed,' said the centurion. 'How is the murderer?'
'Insensible or asleep.'
'Were his crimes less, I could pity him. On!'
Arbaces, as he turned, met the eye of that priest of Isis--it wasCalenus; and something there was in that glance, so significant andsinister, that the Egyptian muttered to himself:
'Could he have witnessed the deed?'
A girl darted from the crowd, and gazed hard on the face of Olinthus.'By Jupiter, a stout knave! I say, we shall have a man for the tigernow; one for each beast!'
'Ho!' shouted the mob; 'a man for the lion, and another for the tiger!What luck! Io Paean!'
The Last Days of Pompeii Page 32