The Prince of India; Or, Why Constantinople Fell — Volume 02

by Lew Wallace

  CHAPTER XVIII

  THE FESTIVAL OF FLOWERS

  The Academy of Epicurus was by no means a trifle spun for vainglory inthe fertile fancy of Demedes; but a fact just as the Brotherhoods ofthe City were facts, and much more notorious than many of them.

  Wiseacres are generally pessimistic. Academy of Epicurus indeed! Foronce there was a great deal in a name. The class mentioned repeated itsneeringly; it spoke to them, and loudly, of some philosophicalwickedness.

  Stories of the miraculous growth of the society were at first amusing;then the announcement of its housing excited loud laughter; but whenits votaries attached the high sounding term _Temple_ to their place ofmeeting, the clergy and all the devoutly inclined looked sober. Intheir view the word savored of outright paganism. Temple of the Academyof Epicurus! Church had been better--Church was at least Christian.

  At length, in ease of the increasing interest, notice wasauthoritatively issued of a Festival of Flowers by the Academicians,their first public appearance, and great were the anticipations arousedby the further advertisement that they would march from their Temple tothe Hippodrome.

  The festival took place the afternoon of the third day of the Prince ofIndia's voyage to Plati. More particularly, while that distinguishedforeigner on the deck of the galley was quietly sleeping off thefatigue and wear of body and spirit consequent on the visit to thedesolate island, the philosophers were on parade with an immense quotaof Byzantines of both sexes in observation. About three thousand werein the procession, and from head to foot it was a mass of flowers.

  The extravaganza deserved the applause it drew. Some of its featuresnevertheless were doubtfully regarded. Between the sections into whichthe column was divided there marched small groups, apparently officers,clad in gowns and vestments, carrying insignia and smoking tripods wellknown to have belonged to various priesthoods of mythologic fame. Whenthe cortege reached the Hippodrome every one in the galleries wasreminded of the glory the first Constantine gained from his mercilessforays upon those identical properties.

  In the next place, the motto of the society--Patience, Courage,Judgment--was too frequently and ostentatiously exhibited not toattract attention. The words, it was observed, were not merely onbanners lettered in gold, but illustrated by portable tableaux ofexquisite appositeness and beauty. They troubled the wiseacres; forwhile they might mean a world of good, they might also stand forseveral worlds of bad. Withal, however, the youthfulness of theAcademicians wrought the profoundest sensation upon the multitude ofspectators. The march was three times round the interior, affordingexcellent opportunity to study the appearances; and the sober thinking,whom the rarity and tastefulness of the display did not hoodwink, whenthey discovered that much the greater number participating werebeardless lads, shook their heads while saying to each other, At therate these are going what is to become of the Empire? As if thedecadence were not already in progress, and they, the croakers,responsible for it!

  At the end of the first round, upon the arrival of the sections infront of the triple-headed bronze serpent, one of the wonders of theHippodrome then as now, the bearers of the tripods turned out, and setthem down, until at length the impious relic was partially veiled inperfumed smoke, as was the wont in its better Delphian days.

  Nothing more shocking to the religionists could have been invented;they united in denouncing the defiant indecency. Hundreds of persons,not all of them venerable and frocked, were seen to rise and depart,shaking the dust from their feet. In course of tile third circuit, thetripods were coolly picked up and returned to their several places inthe procession.

  From a seat directly over the course, Sergius beheld the gay spectaclefrom its earliest appearance through the portal of the Blues to itsexit by the portal of the Greens. [Footnote: The Blues and theGreens--two celebrated factions of Constantinople. See Gibbon, vii. pp.79-89. Four gates, each flanked with towers, gave entrance to theHippodrome from the city. The northwestern was called the gate of theBlues; the northeastern of the Greens; the southeastern gate bore thesullen title, "Gate of the Dead."--Prof. Edwin A. Grosvenor.] Hisinterest, the reader will bear reminding, was peculiar. He had beenhonored by a special invitation to become a member of the Academy--infact, there was a seat in the Temple at the moment reserved for him. Hehad the great advantage, moreover, of exact knowledge of the objects ofthe order. Godless itself, it had been organized to promotegodlessness. He had given much thought to it since Demedes unfolded thescheme to him, and found it impossible to believe persons of soundsense could undertake a sin so elaborate. If for any reason the Stateand Church were unmindful of it, Heaven certainly could not be.

  Aside from the desire to satisfy himself of the strength of theAcademy, Sergius was drawn to the Hippodrome to learn, if possible, theposition Demedes held in it. His sympathy with the venerable Hegumen,with whom mourning for the boy astray was incessant, and sometimespathetic as the Jewish king's, gradually became a grief for theprodigal himself, and he revolved plans for his reformation. Whathappiness could he one day lead the son to the father, and say: "Yourprayers and lamentations have been heard; see--God's kiss of peace onhis forehead!"

  And then in what he had seen of Demedes--what courage, dash, andaudacity--what efficiency--what store of resources! The last play ofhis--attending the fete of the Princess Irene as a bear tender--who butDemedes would have thought of such a role? Who else could have madehimself the hero of the occasion, with none to divide honors with himexcept Joqard? And what a bold ready transition from bear tender tocaptain in the boat race! Demedes writhing in the grip of Nilo over theedge of the wall, death in the swish of waves beneath, had been anobject of pity tinged with contempt--Demedes winner of the prize atTherapia was a very different person.

  This feeling for the Greek, it is to be said next, was dashed with alurking dread of him. If he had a design against Lael, what was thereto prevent him from attempting it? That he had such a design, Sergiuscould not deny. How often he repeated the close of the note left on thestool after the Fisherman's fete. "Thou mayst find the fan of thePrincess of India useful; with me it is embalmed in sentiment." Heshall write with a pen wondrous fine who makes the difference betweenlove and sentiment clear. Behind the fete, moreover, there was theconfession heard on the wall, illustrated by the story of the plague ofcrime. Instead of fading out in the Russian's mind it had become betterunderstood--a consequence of the brightening process of residence inthe city.

  Twice the procession rounded the great curriculum. Twice Sergius hadopportunity to look for the Greek, but without avail. So were thecelebrants literally clothed in flowers that recognition of individualswas almost impossible. The first time, he sought him in the body ofeach passing section; the second time, he scanned the bearers of thestandards and symbols; the third time, he was successful.

  At the head of the parade, six or eight persons were moving onhorseback. It was singular Sergius had not looked for Demedes amongstthem, since the idea of him would have entitled the Greek to a chiefseat in the Temple and a leading place when in the eye of the public.As it was, he could not repress an exclamation on making the discovery.

  Like his associates, Demedes was in armor _cap-a-pie_. He also carriedan unshod lance, a shield on arm, and a bow and quiver at his back; buthelmet, breastplate, shield, lance and bow were masked in flowers, andonly now and then a glint betrayed the underdress of polished steel.The steed he bestrode was housed in cloth which dragged the ground; butof the color of the cloth or its material not a word can be said, soentirely was it covered with floral embroidery of diverse hues andfigures.

  The decoration contributed little of grace to man or beast;nevertheless its richness was undeniable. To the spendthrifts in thegalleries the effect was indescribably attractive. They studied itselaboration, conjecturing how many gardens along the Bosphorus, and outin the Isles of the Princes, had been laid under contribution for theaccomplishment of the splendor. Thus in the saddle, Demedes could nothave been accused of diminutiveness; he appeared tall,
even burly;indeed, Sergius would never have recognized him had he not been goingwith raised visor, and at the instant of passing turned his face up,permitting it to be distinctly seen.

  The exclamation wrung from the monk was not merely because of hisfinding the man; in sober truth, it was an unconventional expressionprovoked by finding him in the place he occupied, and a quick jump tothe logical conclusion that the foremost person in the march was alsothe chief priest--if such were the title--in the Academy.

  Thenceforward Sergius beheld little else of the show than Demedes. Heforgot the impiety of the honors to the bronze serpent. There is noenigma to us like him who is broadly our antipodes in moral being, andwhether ours is the good or the bad nature does not affect the saying.His feelings the while were strangely diverse. The election of the evilgenius to the first place in the insidious movement was well done forthe Academy; there would be no failure with him in control; but thepoor Hegumen!

  And now, the last circuit completed, the head of the bright arrayapproached the Gate of the Greens. There the horsemen drew out andformed line on the right hand to permit the brethren to march pastthem. The afternoon was going rapidly. The shadow of the building onthe west crept more noticeably across the carefully kept field. StillSergius retained his seat watchful of Demedes. He saw him signal theriders to turn out--he saw the line form, and the sections begin tomarch past it--then an incident occurred of no appreciable importanceat the moment, but replete with significancy a little later.

  A man appeared on the cornice above the Gate--the Grate on the interiorhaving a face resembling a very tall but shallow portico resting onslender pillars--and commenced lowering himself as if he meant todescend. The danger of the attempt drew all eyes to him. Demedes lookedup, and hastily rode through the column toward the spot where theadventurer must alight. The spectators credited the young chief with agenerous intent to be of assistance; but agile as a cat, and master ofevery nerve and muscle, the man gained one of the pillars and slid tothe ground. The galleries of the Hippodrome found voice immediately.

  While the acrobat hung from the cornice striving to get hold of thepillar with his feet and legs, Sergius was wrestling with the question,what could impel a fellow being to tempt Providence so rashly? If amessenger with intelligence for some one in the procession, why notwait for him outside? In short, the monk was a trifle vexed; but doublyobservant now, he saw the man hasten to Demedes, and Demedes bend lowin the saddle to receive a communication from him. The courier thenhurried away through the Gate, while the chief returned to his place;but, instructed probably by some power of divination proceeding fromsympathy and often from suspicion, one of the many psychologicalmysteries about which we keep promising ourselves a day ofenlightenment, Sergius observed a change in the latter. He wasrestless, impatient, and somewhat too imperative in hastening theretirement of the brethren. The message had obviously excited him.

  Now Sergius would have freely given the best of his earthly possessionsto have known at that moment the subject of the communication deliveredby a route so extraordinary; but leaving him to his conjectures, thereis no reason why the reader should not be more confidentially treated.

  "Sir," the messenger had whispered to Demedes, "she has left herfather's, and is coming this way."

  "How is she coming?"

  "In her sedan."

  "Who is with her?"

  "She is alone."

  "And her porters?"

  "The Bulgarians."

  "Thank you. Go now--out by the Gate--to the keeper of the ImperialCistern. Tell him to await me under the wall in the Bucoleon gardenwith my chair. He will understand. Come to the Temple tomorrow for yoursalary."