The Last Days of Pompeii

by Baron Edward Bulwer Lytton Lytton

  Chapter XIII

  THE SLAVE CONSULTS THE ORACLE. THEY WHO BLIND THEMSELVES THE BLIND MAYFOOL. TWO NEW PRISONERS MADE IN ONE NIGHT.

  IMPATIENTLY Nydia awaited the arrival of the no less anxious Sosia.Fortifying his courage by plentiful potations of a better liquor thanthat provided for the demon, the credulous ministrant stole into theblind girl's chamber.

  'Well, Sosia, and art thou prepared? Hast thou the bowl of pure water?'

  'Verily, yes: but I tremble a little. You are sure I shall not see thedemon? I have heard that those gentlemen are by no means of a handsomeperson or a civil demeanor.'

  'Be assured! And hast thou left the garden-gate gently open?'

  'Yes; and placed some beautiful nuts and apples on a little table closeby?'

  'That's well. And the gate is open now, so that the demon may passthrough it?'

  'Surely it is.'

  'Well, then, open this door; there--leave it just ajar. And now, Sosia,give me the lamp.'

  'What, you will not extinguish it?'

  'No; but I must breathe my spell over its ray. There is a spirit infire. Seat thyself.'

  The slave obeyed; and Nydia, after bending for some moments silentlyover the lamp, rose, and in a low voice chanted the following rude:--

  INVOCATION TO THE SPECTRE OF THE AIR

  Loved alike by Air and Water Aye must be Thessalia's daughter; To us, Olympian hearts, are given Spells that draw the moon from heaven. All that Egypt's learning wrought-- All that Persia's Magian taught-- Won from song, or wrung from flowers, Or whisper'd low by fiend--are ours.

  Spectre of the viewless air! Hear the blind Thessalian's prayer! By Erictho's art, that shed Dews of life when life was fled-- By lone Ithaca's wise king,

  Who could wake the crystal spring To the voice of prophecy? By the lost Eurydice, Summon'd from the shadowy throng, As the muse-son's magic song-- By the Colchian's awful charms, When fair-haired Jason left her arms--

  Spectre of the airy halls, One who owns thee duly calls! Breathe along the brimming bowl, And instruct the fearful soul In the shadowy things that lie Dark in dim futurity. Come, wild demon of the air, Answer to thy votary's prayer! Come! oh, come!

  And no god on heaven or earth-- Not the Paphian Queen of Mirth, Not the vivid Lord of Light, Nor the triple Maid of Night, Nor the Thunderer's self shall be Blest and honour'd more than thee! Come! oh, come!

  'The spectre is certainly coming,' said Sosia. 'I feel him runningalong my hair!'

  'Place thy bowl of water on the ground. Now, then, give me thy napkin,and let me fold up thy face and eyes.'

  'Ay! that's always the custom with these charms. Not so tight, though:gently--gently!'

  'There--thou canst not see?'

  'See, by Jupiter! No! nothing but darkness.'

  'Address, then, to the spectre whatever question thou wouldst ask him,in a low-whispered voice, three times. If thy question is answered inthe affirmative, thou wilt hear the water ferment and bubble before thedemon breathes upon it; if in the negative, the water will be quitesilent.'

  'But you will not play any trick with the water, eh?'

  'Let me place the bowl under thy feet--so. Now thou wilt perceive thatI cannot touch it without thy knowledge.'

  'Very fair. Now, then, O Bacchus! befriend me. Thou knowest that Ihave always loved thee better than all the other gods, and I willdedicate to thee that silver cup I stole last year from the burlycarptor (butler), if thou wilt but befriend me with this water-lovingdemon. And thou, O Spirit! listen and hear me. Shall I be enabled topurchase my freedom next year? Thou knowest; for, as thou livest in theair, the birds have doubtless acquainted thee with every secret of thishouse,--thou knowest that I have filched and pilfered all that Ihonestly--that is, safely--could lay finger upon for the last threeyears, and I yet want two thousand sesterces of the full sum. Shall Ibe able, O good Spirit! to make up the deficiency in the course of thisyear? Speak--Ha! does the water bubble? No; all is as still as atomb.--Well, then, if not this year, in two years?--Ah! I hearsomething; the demon is scratching at the door; he'll be herepresently.--In two years, my good fellow: come now, two; that's a veryreasonable time. What! dumb still! Two years and a half--three--four?ill fortune to you, friend demon! You are not a lady, that's clear, oryou would not keep silence so long. Five--six--sixty years? and mayPluto seize you! I'll ask no more.' And Sosia, in a rage, kicked downthe water over his legs. He then, after much fumbling and more cursing,managed to extricate his head from the napkin in which it was completelyfolded--stared round--and discovered that he was in the dark.

  'What, ho! Nydia; the lamp is gone. Ah, traitress; and thou art gonetoo; but I'll catch thee--thou shalt smart for this!' The slave gropedhis way to the door; it was bolted from without: he was a prisonerinstead of Nydia. What could he do? He did not dare to knock loud--tocall out--lest Arbaces should overhear him, and discover how he had beenduped; and Nydia, meanwhile, had probably already gained thegarden-gate, and was fast on her escape.

  'But,' thought he, 'she will go home, or, at least, be somewhere in thecity. To-morrow, at dawn, when the slaves are at work in the peristyle,I can make myself heard; then I can go forth and seek her. I shall besure to find and bring her back, before Arbaces knows a word of thematter. Ah! that's the best plan. Little traitress, my fingers itch atthee: and to leave only a bowl of water, too! Had it been wine, itwould have been some comfort.'

  While Sosia, thus entrapped, was lamenting his fate, and revolving hisschemes to repossess himself of Nydia, the blind girl, with thatsingular precision and dexterous rapidity of motion, which, we havebefore observed, was peculiar to her, had passed lightly along theperistyle, threaded the opposite passage that led into the garden, and,with a beating heart, was about to proceed towards the gate, when shesuddenly heard the sound of approaching steps, and distinguished thedreaded voice of Arbaces himself. She paused for a moment in doubt andterror; then suddenly it flashed across her recollection that there wasanother passage which was little used except for the admission of thefair partakers of the Egyptian's secret revels, and which wound alongthe basement of that massive fabric towards a door which alsocommunicated with the garden. By good fortune it might be open. Atthat thought, she hastily retraced her steps, descended the narrowstairs at the right, and was soon at the entrance of the passage. Alas!the door at the entrance was closed and secured. While she was yetassuring herself that it was indeed locked, she heard behind her thevoice of Calenus, and, a moment after, that of Arbaces in low reply.She could not stay there; they were probably passing to that very door.She sprang onward, and felt herself in unknown ground. The air grewdamp and chill; this reassured her. She thought she might be among thecellars of the luxurious mansion, or, at least, in some rude spot notlikely to be visited by its haughty lord, when again her quick earcaught steps and the sound of voices. On, on, she hurried, extending herarms, which now frequently encountered pillars of thick and massiveform. With a tact, doubled in acuteness by her fear, she escaped theseperils, and continued her way, the air growing more and more damp as sheproceeded; yet, still, as she ever and anon paused for breath, she heardthe advancing steps and the indistinct murmur of voices. At length shewas abruptly stopped by a wall that seemed the limit of her path. Wasthere no spot in which she could hide? No aperture? no cavity? Therewas none! She stopped, and wrung her hands in despair; then again,nerved as the voices neared upon her, she hurried on by the side of thewall; and coming suddenly against one of the sharp buttresses that hereand there jutted boldly forth, she fell to the ground. Though muchbruised, her senses did not leave her; she uttered no cry; nay, shehailed the accident that had led her to something like a screen; andcreeping close up to the angle formed by the buttress, so that on one
side at least she was sheltered from view, she gathered her slight andsmall form into its smallest compass, and breathlessly awaited her fate.

  Meanwhile Arbaces and the priest were taking their way to that secretchamber whose stores were so vaunted by the Egyptian. They were in avast subterranean atrium, or hall; the low roof was supported by short,thick pillars of an architecture far remote from the Grecian graces ofthat luxuriant period. The single and pale lamp, which Arbaces bore,shed but an imperfect ray over the bare and rugged walls, in which thehuge stones, without cement, were fitted curiously and uncouthly intoeach other. The disturbed reptiles glared dully on the intruders, andthen crept into the shadow of the walls.

  Calenus shivered as he looked around and breathed the damp, unwholesomeair.

  'Yet,' said Arbaces, with a smile, perceiving his shudder, 'it is theserude abodes that furnish the luxuries of the halls above. They are likethe laborers of the world--we despise their ruggedness, yet they feedthe very pride that disdains them.'

  'And whither goes yon dim gallery to the left asked Calenus; 'in thisdepth of gloom it seems without limit, as if winding into Hades.'

  'On the contrary, it does but conduct to the upper rooms,' answeredArbaces, carelessly: 'it is to the right that we steer to our bourn.'

  The hall, like many in the more habitable regions of Pompeii, branchedoff at the extremity into two wings or passages; the length of which,not really great, was to the eye considerably exaggerated by the suddengloom against which the lamp so faintly struggled. To the right ofthese alae, the two comrades now directed their steps.

  'The gay Glaucus will be lodged to-morrow in apartments not much drier,and far less spacious than this,' said Calenus, as they passed by thevery spot where, completely wrapped in the shadow of the broad,projecting buttress, cowered the Thessalian.

  'Ay, but then he will have dry room, and ample enough, in the arena onthe following day. And to think,' continued Arbaces, slowly, and verydeliberately--'to think that a word of thine could save him, and consignArbaces to his doom!'

  'That word shall never be spoken,' said Calenus.

  'Right, my Calenus! it never shall,' returned Arbaces, familiarlyleaning his arm on the priest's shoulder: 'and now, halt--we are at thedoor.'

  The light trembled against a small door deep set in the wall, andguarded strongly by many plates and bindings of iron, that intersectedthe rough and dark wood. From his girdle Arbaces now drew a small ring,holding three or four short but strong keys. Oh, how beat the gripingheart of Calenus, as he heard the rusty wards growl, as if resenting theadmission to the treasures they guarded!

  'Enter, my friend,' said Arbaces, 'while I hold the lamp on high, thatthou mayst glut thine eyes on the yellow heaps.'

  The impatient Calenus did not wait to be twice invited; he hastenedtowards the aperture.

  Scarce had he crossed the threshold, when the strong hand of Arbacesplunged him forwards.

  'The word shall never be spoken!' said the Egyptian, with a loudexultant laugh, and closed the door upon the priest.

  Calenus had been precipitated down several steps, but not feeling at themoment the pain of his fall, he sprung up again to the door, and beatingat it fiercely with his clenched fist, he cried aloud in what seemedmore a beast's howl than a human voice, so keen was his agony anddespair: 'Oh, release me, release me, and I will ask no gold!'

  The words but imperfectly penetrated the massive door, and Arbaces againlaughed. Then, stamping his foot violently, rejoined, perhaps to givevent to his long-stifled passions:

  'All the gold of Dalmatia,' cried he, 'will not buy thee a crust ofbread. Starve, wretch! thy dying groans will never wake even the echo ofthese vast halls; nor will the air ever reveal, as thou gnawest, in thydesperate famine, thy flesh from thy bones, that so perishes the man whothreatened, and could have undone, Arbaces! Farewell!'

  'Oh, pity--mercy! Inhuman villain; was it for this...'

  The rest of the sentence was lost to the ear of Arbaces as he passedbackward along the dim hall. A toad, plump and bloated, lay unmovingbefore his path; the rays of the lamp fell upon its unshaped hideousnessand red upward eye. Arbaces turned aside that he might not harm it.

  'Thou art loathsome and obscene,' he muttered, 'but thou canst notinjure me; therefore thou art safe in my path.'

  The cries of Calenus, dulled and choked by the barrier that confinedhim, yet faintly reached the ear of the Egyptian. He paused andlistened intently.

  'This is unfortunate,' thought he; 'for I cannot sail till that voice isdumb for ever. My stores and treasures lie, not in yon dungeon it istrue, but in the opposite wing. My slaves, as they move them, must nothear his voice. But what fear of that? In three days, if he stillsurvive, his accents, by my father's beard, must be weak enough,then!--no, they could not pierce even through his tomb. By Isis, it iscold!--I long for a deep draught of the spiced Falernian.'

  With that the remorseless Egyptian drew his gown closer round him, andresought the upper air.