The Scarlet Banner

by Felix Dahn

  CHAPTER XIV

  "Pshaw!" said Modigisel's neighbor, a bold-looking, elderly noblemanwith a haughty, aristocratic bearing. "We need not fear. We Gundingsare of scarcely less ancient nobility. I do not bow my head to theAsdings. Least of all before this dissembler."

  "You are right, Gundomar!" assented a younger man. "Let us defy thetyrant."

  The giant Thrasaric turned his head and said very slowly but veryimpressively: "Listen, Gundomar and Gundobad; you are my guests butspeak ill of Gelimer, and you will fare like those two Romans. So muchwine has gone to my head; but nothing shall be said against Gelimer. Iwill not allow it. He, so full of kindness, a tyrant! What does thatmean?"

  "It means a usurper."

  "How can you say that? He is the oldest Asding."

  "After King Hilderic! And was he justly imprisoned and deposed?" askedGundomar, doubtfully.

  "Was not the whole affair a clever invention?" added Gundobad.

  "Not by Gelimer! You do not mean to say that?" cried Thrasaric,threateningly.

  "No! But perhaps by Verus."

  "Yes; all sorts of rumors are afloat. There is said to have been aletter of warning."

  "No matter. If your saintly devotee should discover this festival--"

  "Then woe betide us! He would deal with you as--"

  "He did at the time you wanted to wed your little bride without the aidof the priest," cried Modigisel, laughing.

  "I shall be grateful to him all my life for having struck me down then!Eugenias are not to be stolen; we must woo them gently." Nodding to theyoung girl, he covered her little head and veil with his huge righthand and pressed it tenderly to his broad breast; a radiant glance fromthe large dark antelope eyes thanked him.

  But Modigisel had also discovered the charm which such an expressionbestowed upon the innocent, childlike features; his gaze restedadmiringly upon Eugenia. The latter raised herself and whispered in herlover's ear.

  "Gladly, my violet, my little bird," replied Thrasaric. "If you havepromised, you must keep your word. Go with her to the entrance,brother. To keep one's promise is more necessary than to breathe."

  The bride, attended by a group of her friends, was led by Thrasabadthrough one of the numerous cross passages out of the Circus.

  "Where is she going?" asked Modigisel, following her with ardent eyes.

  "To the Catholic chapel close by, which they have made in the littletemple of Vesta. She promised her father to pray there before midnight;she was forced to resign the blessing of her church at her marriagewith a heretic." The bride's graceful figure now vanished through thevaulted doorway.

  Modigisel began again: "Let me have your little maid, and take my bigsweetheart; you will make almost a hundred pounds by the bargain. True,in this climate, one ought to choose a slender sweetheart. Is she afree Roman? Then I, too, will _marry_ her. I won't stop for that."

  "Keep your plump happiness, and leave me my slender one. I have by nomeans drunk enough from the ocean to make that exchange."

  Suddenly Astarte said loudly, "She's nothing but skin and bones!" Bothmen started; had she understood their low whispers? Again the full lipscurled slightly, revealing her sharp eye-teeth.

  "And eyes! those eyes!" replied Modigisel.

  "Yes, bigger than her whole face. She looks like a chicken just out ofthe shell!" sneered Astarte. "What is there so remarkable about her?"The beauty's round eyes glittered with a sinister light.

  "A soul, Carthaginian," replied the bridegroom.

  "Women have no souls," retorted Astarte, gazing calmly at him. "So oneof the Fathers of the Church taught--or a philosopher. Some, instead ofthe soul, have water, like that pygmy. Others have fire." She paused,her breath coming quickly and heavily. Astarte was indeed beautiful atthat moment, diabolically, bewitchingly beautiful; the exquisitelymoulded, sphinxlike countenance was glowing with life.

  "Fire," replied Thrasaric, averting his eyes from her ardentgaze,--"fire belongs to hell."

  Astarte made no answer.

  "Eugenia is so beautiful because she is so chaste and pure," sighedGlauke, who had heard a part of the conversation. Gazing sorrowfullyafter the bride, she lowered her long lashes.

  "No wonder that you hold her so firmly," Modigisel now said aloud in ajeering tone. "After your attempt to abduct her failed, you besoughtthe old grain-usurer to give you the dainty doll as honorably as anyRoman fuller or baker ever wooed the daughter of his neighbor, thecobbler."

  "Yes," assented Gundomar; "but he has celebrated the wedding with asmuch splendor as though he were wedding the daughter of an emperor."

  "The splendor of the wedding is more to him than the bride," criedGundobad, laughing.

  "Certainly not," said Thrasaric, slowly. "But one thing is true: sinceI have known that she is--that she will be mine--the frantic longingfor her--yet no--that is not true either, I love her fondly. I supposeit is the wine! The heat! And so much wine!"

  "Nothing but wine can help wine," laughed Modigisel. "Here, slaves,bring Bacchus a second Oceanus."

  Thrasaric instantly took a deep draught from the goblet.

  "Well?" whispered Modigisel. "I will give you for make-weight toAstarte my whole fishpond full of muraense, besides the royal villa atGrasse, for--"

  "I am no glutton," replied Thrasaric, indignantly.

  "I will add my villa in Decimum; true, I bequeathed it to Astarte; butshe will consent. Won't you?"

  Astarte nodded silently. Her nostrils were quivering.

  Thrasaric shook his shaggy head.

  "I have more villas than I can occupy. Hark, the blast of a tuba. Theraces ought to begin. Here, little brother! He has gone. Horses, wine,and dice are the three greatest pleasures. I would give the salvationof my soul for the best horse in the world. But--" he took anotherdraught, of wine--"the best horse! It has escaped me. Through my ownfolly! I would give ten Eugenias in exchange."

  Astarte laid an ice-cold finger on Modigisel's bare arm; he looked up;she whispered something, and he nodded in pleased astonishment.

  "The best horse? What is its name? And how did it escape you?"

  "It is called--the Moorish name cannot be pronounced; it is all _ch_!We called it Styx. It is a three-year-old black stallion of Spanishbreed, with a Moorish strain, reared in Cyrene. A short time ago, whenthe valiant king so eagerly began his preparations for war, the Moorswere informed that we nobles needed fine horses. Among many others,Sersaon, the grandson of the old chief Cabaon, came to Carthage; hebrought of all the good horses the very best."

  "Yes! we know them!" the Vandals assented.

  "But among the very best the pearl was Styx, the black stallion! Icannot describe him, or I should weep for rage that he escaped me. TheMoor who rode him, scarcely more than a boy, said that he was not forsale. As I eagerly urged him, he asked, grinning in mockery, animpossible price, which no one in his sober senses would pay,--anunreasonable number of pounds of gold; I have forgotten how many. Ilaughed in his face. Then I looked again at the magnificent animal, andordered the slave to bring the money. I placed the leather bag at oncein the Moor's hand; it was in the open courtyard of my house on theForum of Constantine. Many other horses were standing there, andseveral of our mounted lancers were in the saddle, inspecting them asthey were led up. Then, after I had closed the bargain, I said to mybrother with a sigh: 'It's a pity to pay so much money. The animal ishardly worth it.' 'It is worth more, and you shall see!' cried theinsolent Moor, as he leaped on the horse and dashed out of the gate ofthe courtyard. But he still held the purse in his hand."

  "That was too much!" said Modigisel.

  "The insolence enraged us all. We followed at once,--at least twentymen,--our best horses and riders, some on the splendid Moorish steedswe had just purchased. At the corner of the street he was so near thatThrasabad hurled his spear at him, but in vain! Though at our criespeople flocked from all the cross streets to stop him in the main one,there was no checking him. The guards at the southern gate hear
d theuproar; they sprang to close the doors, were in the act of shuttingthem, but the superb creature darted through like an arrow. We pursuedfor half an hour; by that time he had gained so much on us that wecould just see him in the distance like an ostrich disappearing in thesands of the desert.

  "Enraged, loudly berating the faithless Moor, we rode slowly home onour exhausted steeds. When we reached the house, there in my courtyardstood the Moor, leaning against the black horse; he had ridden in againat the western gate. Throwing the gold at my feet, he said: 'Now do youknow the value of this noble animal? Keep your gold! I will not sellhim.' He rode slowly and proudly away. So I lost Styx, the best horsein the world. Ha, is this a delusion? Or is it the heavy wine? Downbelow--in the arena--beside the other racers--"

  "Stands Styx," said Astarte, quietly.

  "To whom does the treasure belong?" shrieked Thrasaric, frantically.

  "To me," replied Modigisel.

  "Did you buy him?"

  "No. In the last foray the animal was captured with some camels andseveral other horses."

  "But not by you?" roared Thrasaric. "You were at home as usual, inAstarte's broad shadow."

  "But I sent thirty mercenaries in my place; they captured the animal,tied in the Moorish camp; and what the mercenary captures--"

  "Is his employer's property," said Thrasabad, who had entered the boxagain.

  "So--this wonder--belongs to--you?" exclaimed Thrasaric, wild withenvy.

  "Yes, and to you as soon as you wish."

  Thrasaric emptied a huge goblet of wine.

  "No, no," he said; "at least not so--not by my will. She is a freewoman, no slave, whom I could give away, even if I should ever desireit."

  "Only resign your right to her. It will be easy--for money--to find areason for annulling the marriage."

  "She is a Catholic, he an Arian," whispered Astarte.

  "Of course! That will do! And then merely let me--Gelimer cannot alwaysstrike down her abductor."

  "No! Silence! Not so! But--we might throw dice! Then the dice, chance,would have decided--not I! Oh, I can, I can--think no longer! If Ithrow higher, each shall keep what he has; if I throw lower, Iwill--no, no! I will not! Let me sleep!" And overcome by the wine, inspite of the uproar around him, he dropped his huge rose-garlanded headon both arms, which lay folded on the marble front of the box.

  Modigisel and Astarte exchanged significant glances.

  "What do you expect to gain by it?" asked Modigisel. "He won't exchangefor you; only for the horse."

  "But she--that nun-faced girl--shall not have him! And my time willcome later!"

  "If I release you from my patronage."

  "You will."

  "I don't know yet."

  "Oh, yes, you will," she answered coaxingly.

  But even as she spoke, she again threw back her head and closed hereyes.

  * * * * *

  After a brief slumber the bridegroom was shaken rudely by his brother.

  "Up!" cried the latter; "Eugenia has come back. Let her take herplace--"

  "Eugenia! I did not throw dice for her. I don't want the horse. I madeno promise."

  He started in terror; for Eugenia was standing before him with theIonian; her large dark-brown eyes, whose whites had a bluish cast, weregazing searchingly, anxiously, distrustfully, into the very depths ofhis soul. But she said nothing; only her face was paler than usual. Howmuch had she heard--understood? he asked himself.

  Thrasabad's slave humbly made way for her.

  "I thank you. Aphrodite."

  "Oh, do not call me by that name of mockery and disgrace! Call me as mydear parents did at home before I was stolen,--became booty, achattel."

  "I thank you, Glauke."

  "The races cannot take place," lamented Thrasabad, to whom a freedmanhad just brought a message.

  "Why not?"

  "Because no one will bet against the stallion which Modigisel enteredlast of all. It is Styx; you know him."

  "Yes, I know him! I made no promise, did I, Modigisel?" he asked in alow, hurried tone.

  "Yes, certainly! To throw the dice. Recollect yourself!"

  "Impossible!"

  "You said: 'If I throw higher, each shall keep what he has; if I throwlower--'"

  "Oh, God! Yes! It's nothing, little one! Don't heed me."

  He turned again to Modigisel, whispering, "Give me back my promise!"

  "Never!"

  "You can break it," sneered Astarte.

  "Serpent!" he cried, raising his clinched fist, but he controlledhimself; then, helpless as a bear entangled in a net, the giant turnedbeseechingly to Modigisel: "Spare me!"

  But the latter shook his head.

  "I will withdraw the stallion from the races," he said aloud toThrasabad. "I am satisfied with the fact that no one dares to runagainst him."

  "Then the race can take place, but at the end of the entertainment.First, there are two surprises which I have prepared for you in anotherplace. Come, Glauke, your hand; up, rise! Follow me, all you guests ofThrasaric, follow me to the Amphitheatre."