Cleopatra

by H. Rider Haggard

  CHAPTER XVI

  OF THE PLAN OF CHARMION; OF THE CONFESSION OF CHARMION; AND OF THEANSWER OF HARMACHIS

  For some while I sat with bowed head, and the last bitterness of shamesank into my soul. This, then, was the end. For this I had betrayed myoaths; for this I had told the secret of the pyramid; for this I hadlost my Crown, my Honour, and, perchance, my hope of Heaven! Could therebe another man in the wide world so steeped in sorrow as I was thatnight? Surely not one! Where should I turn? What could I do? And eventhrough the tempest of my torn heart the bitter voice of jealousy calledaloud. For I loved this woman, to whom I had given all; and she at thismoment--she was----Ah! I could not bear to think of it; and in my utteragony, my heart burst in a river of tears such as are terrible to weep!

  Then Charmion drew near me, and I saw that she, too, was weeping.

  "Weep not, Harmachis!" she sobbed, kneeling at my side. "I cannot endureto see thee weep. Oh! why wouldst thou not be warned? Then hadst thoubeen great and happy, and not as now. Listen, Harmachis! Thou didst hearwhat that false and tigerish woman said--to-morrow she hands thee overto the murderers!"

  "It is well," I gasped.

  "Nay: it is not well. Harmachis, give her not this last triumph overthee. Thou hast lost all save life: but while life remains, hope remainsalso, and with hope the chance of vengeance."

  "Ah!" I said, starting from my seat. "I had not thought of that. Ay--thechance of vengeance! It would be sweet to be avenged!"

  "It would be sweet, Harmachis, and yet this--Vengeance is an arrow thatin falling oft pierces him who shot it. Myself--I know it," and shesighed. "But a truce to talk and grief. There will be time for us twainto grieve, if not to talk, in all the heavy coming years. Thou mustfly--before the coming of the light must thou fly. Here is a plan.To-morrow, ere the dawn, a galley that but yesterday came fromAlexandria, bearing fruit and stores, sails thither again, and itscaptain is known to me, but to thee he is not known. Now, I will findthee the garb of a Syrian merchant, and cloak thee, as I know how, andfurnish thee with a letter to the captain of the galley. He shall givethee passage to Alexandria; for to him thou wilt seem but as a merchantgoing on the business of thy trade. Brennus is officer of the guardto-night, and Brennus is a friend to me and thee. Perhaps he will guesssomewhat; or, perhaps, he will not guess; at the least, the Syrianmerchant shall safely pass the lines. What sayest thou?"

  "It is well," I answered wearily; "little do I reck the issue."

  "Rest thou, then, here, Harmachis, while I make these matters ready;and, Harmachis, grieve not overmuch; there are others who should grievemore heavily than thou." And she went, leaving me alone with my agonywhich rent me like a torture-bed. Had it not been for that fierce desireof vengeance which from time to time flashed across my tormented mindas the lightning over a midnight sea, methinks my reason had left mein that dark hour. At length I heard her footstep at the door, and sheentered, breathing heavily, for she bore a sack of clothing in her arms.

  "It is well," she said: "here is the garb with spare linen, andwriting-tablets, and all things needful. I have seen Brennus also, andtold him that a Syrian merchant would pass the guard an hour before thedawn. And though he made pretence of sleep, I think he understood, forhe answered, yawning, that if they but had the pass-word, 'Antony,'fifty Syrian merchants might go through about their lawful business. Andhere is the letter to the captain--thou canst not mistake the galley,for she is moored along to the right--a small galley, painted black, asthou dost enter on the great quay, and, moreover, the sailors make readyfor sailing. Now I will wait here without, while thou dost put off thelivery of thy service and array thyself."

  When she was gone I tore off my gorgeous garments and spat upon them andtrod them on the ground. Then I put on the modest robe of a merchant,and bound the tablets round me, on my feet the sandals of untanned hide,and at my waist the knife. When it was done Charmion entered once againand looked on me.

  "Too much art thou still the royal Harmachis," she said; "see, it mustbe changed."

  Then she took scissors from her tiring-table, and, bidding me be seated,she cut off my locks, clipping the hair close to the head. Next shefound stains of such sort as women use to make dark the eyes, and mixedthem cunningly, rubbing the stuff on my face and hands and on the whitemark in my hair where the sword of Brennus had bitten to the bone.

  "Now thou art changed--somewhat for the worse, Harmachis," she said,with a dreary laugh, "scarce myself should I know thee. Stay, there isone more thing," and, going to a chest of garments, she drew thence aheavy bag of gold.

  "Take thou this," she said; "thou wilt have need of money."

  "I cannot take thy gold, Charmion."

  "Yes, take it. It was Sepa who gave it to me for the furtherance ofour cause, and therefore it is fitting that thou shouldst spend it.Moreover, if I want money, doubtless Antony, who is henceforth mymaster, will give me more; he is much beholden to me, and this he knowswell. There, waste not the precious time in haggling o'er the pelf--notyet art thou all a merchant, Harmachis;" and, without more words, shethrust the pieces into the leather bag that hung across my shoulders.Then she made fast the sack containing the spare garments, and, sowomanly thoughtful was she, placed in it an alabaster jar of pigment,with which I might stain my countenance afresh, and, taking thebroidered robes of my office that I had cast off, hid them in the secretpassage. And so at last all was made ready.

  "Is it time that I should go," I asked.

  "Not yet a while. Be patient, Harmachis, for but one little hour moremust thou endure my presence, and then, perchance, farewell for ever."

  I made a gesture signifying that this was no time for sharp words.

  "Forgive me my quick tongue," she said; "but from a salt spring bitterwaters well. Be seated, Harmachis; I have heavier words to speak to theebefore thou goest."

  "Say on," I answered; "words, however heavy, can move me no more."

  She stood before me with folded hands, and the lamp-light shone upon herbeauteous face. I noticed idly how great was its pallor and how wideand dark were the rings about the deep black eyes. Twice she lifted herwhite face and strove to speak, twice her voice failed her; and when atlast it came it was in a hoarse whisper.

  "I cannot let thee go," she said--"I cannot let thee go unwitting of thetruth.

  "_Harmachis, 'twas I who did betray thee!_"

  I sprang to my feet, an oath upon my lips; but she caught me by thehand.

  "Oh, be seated," she said--"be seated and hear me; then, when thou hastheart, do to me as thou wilt. Listen. From that evil moment when, inthe presence of thy uncle Sepa, for the second time I set eyes upon thyface, I loved thee--how much, thou canst little guess. Think uponthine own love for Cleopatra, and double it, and double it again, andperchance thou mayst come near to my love's mighty sum. I loved thee,day by day I loved thee more, till in thee and for thee alone I seemedto live. But thou wast cold--thou wast worse than cold! thou didst dealwith me not as a breathing woman, but rather as the instrument to anend--as a tool with which to grave thy fortunes. And then I saw--yes,long before thou knewest it thyself--thy heart's tide was setting strongtowards that ruinous shore whereon to-day thy life is broken. And atlast that night came, that dreadful night when, hid within the chamber,I saw thee cast my kerchief to the winds, and with sweet words cherishmy royal Rival's gift. Then--oh, thou knowest--in my pain I betrayedthe secret that thou wouldst not see, and thou didst make a mock of me,Harmachis! Oh! the shame of it--thou in thy foolishness didst make amock of me! I went thence, and within me were rising all the tormentswhich can tear a woman's heart, for now I was sure that thou didst loveCleopatra! Ay, and so mad was I, even that night I was minded to betraythee: but I thought--not yet, not yet; to-morrow he may soften. Thencame the morrow, and all was ready for the bursting of the great plotthat should make thee Pharaoh. And I too came--thou dost remember--andagain thou didst put me away when I spake to thee in parables, assomething of little worth--as a thing too small to claim a moment'
sweighty thought. And, knowing that this was because--though thou knewestit not--thou didst love Cleopatra, whom now thou must straightway slay,I grew mad, and a wicked Spirit entered into me, possessing me utterly,so that I was myself no longer, nor could control myself. And becausethou hadst scorned me, I did this, to my everlasting shame andsorrow!--I passed into Cleopatra's presence and betrayed thee and thosewith thee, and our holy cause, saying that I had found a writing whichthou hadst let fall and read all this therein."

  I gasped and sat silent; and gazing sadly at me she went on:

  "When she understood how great was the plot, and how deep its roots,Cleopatra was much troubled; and, at first, she would have fled to Saisor taken ship and run for Cyprus, but I showed her that the ways werebarred. Then she said she would cause thee to be slain, there, in thechamber, and I left her so believing; for, at that hour, I was glad thatthou shouldst be slain--ay, even if I wept out my heart upon thy grave,Harmachis. But what said I just now?--Vengeance is an arrow that oftfalls on him who looses it. So it was with me; for between my going andthy coming Cleopatra hatched a deeper plan. She feared that to slay theewould only be to light a fiercer fire of revolt; but she saw that tobind thee to her, and, having left men awhile in doubt, to show theefaithless, would strike the imminent danger at its roots and witherit. This plot once formed, being great, she dared its doubtful issue,and--need I go on? Thou knowest, Harmachis, how she won; and thus theshaft of vengeance that I loosed fell upon my own head. For on themorrow I knew that I had sinned for naught, that the burden of mybetrayal had been laid on the wretched Paulus, and that I had but ruinedthe cause to which I was sworn and given the man I loved to the arms ofwanton Egypt."

  She bowed her head awhile, and then, as I spoke not, once more went on:

  "Let all my sin be told, Harmachis, and then let justice come. See now,this thing happened. Half did Cleopatra learn to love thee, and deep inher heart she bethought her of taking thee to wedded husband. For thesake of this half love of hers she spared the lives of those in the plotwhom she had meshed, bethinking her that if she wedded thee she mightuse them and thee to draw the heart of Egypt, which loves not her norany Ptolemy. And then, once again she entrapped thee, and in thy follythou didst betray to her the secret of the hidden wealth of Egypt, whichto-day she squanders to delight the luxurious Antony; and, of a truth,at that time she purposed to make good her oath and marry thee. But onthe very morn when Dellius came for answer she sent for me, and tellingme all--for my wit, above any, she holds at price--demanded of me myjudgment whether she should defy Antony and wed thee, or whether sheshould put the thought away and come to Antony. And I--now mark thou allmy sin--I, in my bitter jealousy, rather than I would see her thy weddedwife and thou her loving lord, counselled her most strictly thatshe should come to Antony, well knowing--for I had had speech withDellius--that if she came, this weak Antony would fall like a ripe fruitat her feet, as, indeed, he has fallen. And but now I have shown theethe issue of the scheme. Antony loves Cleopatra and Cleopatra lovesAntony, and thou art robbed, and matters have gone well for me, who ofall women on the earth to-night am the wretchedest by far. For when Isaw how thy heart broke but now, my heart seemed to break with thine,and I could no longer bear the burden of my evil deeds, but knew that Imust tell them and take my punishment.

  "And now, Harmachis, I have no more to say; save that I thank thee forthy courtesy in hearkening, and this one thing I add. Driven by my greatlove I have sinned against thee unto death! I have ruined thee, I haveruined Khem, and myself also I have ruined! Let death reward me! Slaythou me, Harmachis--I will gladly die upon thy sword; ay, and kiss itsblade! Slay thou me and go; for if thou slayest me not, myself I willsurely slay!" And she threw herself upon her knees, lifting her fairbreast toward me, that I might smite her with my dagger. And, in mybitter fury, I was minded to strike; for, above all, I thought how,when I was fallen, this woman, who herself was my cause of shame, hadscourged me with her whip of scorn. But it is hard to slay a fair woman;and, even as I lifted my hand to strike, I remembered that she had nowtwice saved my life.

  "Woman! thou shameless woman!" I said, "arise! I slay thee not! Who amI, that I should judge thy crime, that, with mine own, doth overtop allearthly judgment?"

  "Slay me, Harmachis!" she moaned; "slay me, or I slay myself! My burdenis too great for me to bear! Be not so deadly calm! Curse me, and slay!"

  "What was it that thou didst say to me just now, Charmion--that as I hadsown so I must reap? It is not lawful that thou shouldst slay thyself;it is not lawful that I, thine equal in sin, should slay thee becausethrough thee I sinned. As _thou_ hast sown, Charmion, so must _thou_also reap. Base woman! whose cruel jealousy has brought all these woeson me and Egypt, live--live on, and from year to year pluck the bitterfruit of crime! Haunted be thy sleep by visions of thy outraged Gods,whose vengeance awaits thee and me in their dim Amenti! Haunted be thydays by memories of that man whom thy fierce love brought to shame andruin, and by the sight of Khem a prey to the insatiate Cleopatra and aslave to Roman Antony."

  "Oh, speak not thus, Harmachis! Thy words are sharper than any sword;and more surely, if more slowly, shall they slay! Listen, Harmachis,"and she grasped my robe: "when thou wast great, and all power lay withinthy grasp, thou didst reject me. Wilt reject me now that Cleopatra hastcast thee from her--now that thou art poor and shamed and with no pillowto thy head? Still am I fair, and still I worship thee. Let me fly withthee, and make atonement for my lifelong love. Or, if this be too greata thing to ask, let me be but as thy sister and thy servant--thy veryslave, so that I may still look upon thy face, and share thy troubleand minister to thee. O Harmachis, let me but come and I will brave allthings and endure all things, and nothing but Death himself shall stayme from thy side. For I do believe that the love that sank me to so lowa depth, dragging thee with me, can yet lift me to an equal height, andthee with me!"

  "Wouldst tempt me to fresh sin, woman? And dost thou think, Charmion,that in some hovel where I must hide, I could bear, day by day, to lookupon thy fair face, and seeing, remember that those lips betrayed me?Not thus easily shalt thou atone! This I know even now: many and heavyshall be thy lonely days of penance! Perchance that hour of vengeanceyet may come, and perchance thou shalt live to play thy part in it. Thoumust still abide in the Court of Cleopatra; and, while thou art there,if I yet live, I will from time to time find means to give thee tidings.Perhaps a day may dawn when once more I shall need thy service. Now,swear that, in this event, thou wilt not fail me a second time."

  "I swear, Harmachis!--I swear! May everlasting torments, too hideous tobe dreamed--more hideous, even, by far, than those that wring me now--bemy portion if I fail thee in one jot or tittle--ay, though I wait alifetime for thy word!"

  "It is well; see that thou keep the oath--not twice may we betray. I goto work out my fate; abide thou to work out thine. Perchance our diversthreads will once more mingle ere the web be spun. Charmion, who unaskeddidst love me--and who, prompted by that gentle love of thine, didstbetray and ruin me--fare thee well!"

  She gazed wildly upon my face--she stretched out her arms as though toclasp me; then, in the agony of her despair, she cast herself at lengthand grovelled upon the ground.

  I took up the sack of clothing and the staff and gained the door, and,as I passed it, I threw one last glance upon her. There she lay, witharms outstretched--more white than her white robes--her dark hairstreaming about her, and her fair brows hidden in the dust.

  And thus I left her, nor did I again set my eyes upon her till nine longyears had come and gone.

  [Here ends the second and largest roll of papyrus.]

  BOOK III--THE VENGEANCE OF HARMACHIS