by Georg Ebers
CHAPTER VIII.
The Epicurus anchored before the Temple of Poseidon. The crew had beenordered to keep silence, though they knew nothing, except that a letterfrom Antony, commanding the erection of a wall, had been found on boardthe pirate. This might be regarded as a good omen, for people do notthink of building unless they anticipate a time of peace.
The light rain had ceased, but the wind blew more strongly from thenorth, and the air had grown cool. A dense throng still covered the quayfrom the southern end of the Heptastadium to the promontory of Lochias.The strongest pressure was between the peninsula of the Choma and theSebasteum; for this afforded a view of the sea, and the first tidingsmust reach the residence of the Regent, which was connected with thepalace.
A hundred contradictory rumours had been in circulation that morning;and when, at the third hour in the afternoon, the Epicurus arrived, itwas surrounded by a dense multitude eager to hear what news the ship hadbrought from without.
Other vessels shared the same fate, but none could give reliabletidings.
Two swift galleys from the royal fleet reported meeting a Samiantrireme, which had given news of a great victory gained by Antony onthe land and Cleopatra on the sea, and, as men are most ready to believewhat they desire, throngs of exulting men and women moved to and froalong the shore, strengthening by their confidence many a timorousspirit. Prudent people, who had regarded the long delay of the firstships of the fleet with anxiety, had opened their ears to the tales ofevil, and looked forward to the future with uneasiness. But they avoidedgiving expression to their fears, for the overseer of an establishmentfor gold embroidery, who had ventured to warn the people againstpremature rejoicing, had limped home badly beaten, and two otherpessimists who had been flung in the sea had just been dragged outdripping wet.
Nor could the multitude be blamed for this confidence; for at theSerapeum, the theatre of Dionysus, the lofty pylons of the Sebasteum,the main door of the museum, in front of the entrance of the palacein the Bruchium, and before the fortress-like palaces in the Lochias,triumphal arches had been erected, adorned with gods of victory andtrophies hastily constructed of plaster, inscriptions of congratulationsand thanks to the deities, garlands of foliage and flowers. Thewreathing of the Egyptian pylons and obelisks, the principal temple, andthe favourite statues in the city had been commenced during the night.The last touches were now being given to the work.
Gorgias, like his friend Dion, had not closed his eyes since the nightbefore; for he had had charge of all the decorations of the Bruchium,where one superb building adjoined another.
Sleep had also fled from the couches of the occupants of the Sebasteum,the royal palace where Iras lived during the absence of the Queen, andthe practorium, facing its southern front, which contained the officialresidence of the Regent.
When Archibius was conducted to the Queen's waiting-woman, herappearance fairly startled him. She had been his guest in Kanopus onlythe day before yesterday, and how great was the alteration within thisbrief time! Her oval face seemed to have lengthened, the features tohave grown sharper; and this woman of seven-and-twenty years, who hadhitherto retained all the charms of youth, appeared suddenly to haveaged a decade. There was a feverish excitement in her manner, as,holding out her hand to her uncle, in greeting, she exclaimed hastily,"You, too, bring no good tidings?"
"Nor any evil ones," he answered quietly. "But, child, I do not likeyour appearance--the dark circles under your keen eyes. You have hadnews which rouses your anxiety?"
"Worse than that," she answered in a low tone.
"Well?"
"Read!" gasped Iras, her lips and nostrils quivering as she handedArchibius a small tablet. With a gesture of haste very unusual in him,he snatched it from her hand and, as his eyes ran over the words tracedupon it, every vestige of colour vanished from his cheeks and lips.
They were written by Cleopatra's own hand, and contained the followinglines:
"The naval battle was lost--and by my fault. The land forces mightstill save us, but not under his command. He is with me, uninjured,but apparently exhausted; like a different being, bereft of courage,listless as if utterly crushed. I foresee the beginning of the end.As soon as this reaches you, arrange to have some unpretending littersready for us every evening at sunset. Make the people believe that wehave conquered until trustworthy intelligence arrives concerning thefate of Canidius and the army. When you kiss the children in my name,be very tender with them. Who knows how soon they may be orphaned?They already have an unhappy mother; may they be spared the memory ofa cowardly one! Trust no one except those whom I left in authority, andArchibius, not even Caesarion or Antyllus. Provide for having every onewhose aid may be valuable to me within reach when I come. I cannotclose with the familiar 'Rejoice'--the 'Fresh Courage' placed on manya tombstone seems more appropriate. You who did not envy me in myhappiness will help me to bear misfortune. Epicurus, who believes thatthe gods merely watch the destiny of men inactively from their blissfulheights, is right. Were it otherwise, how could the love and loyaltywhich cleave to the hapless, defeated woman, be repaid with anguish ofheart and tears? Yet continue to love her."
Archibius, pale and silent, let the tablet fall. It was long ere hegasped hoarsely: "I foresaw it; yet now that it is here--" His voicefailed, and violent, tearless sobs shook his powerful frame.
Sinking on a couch he buried his face amid the cushions.
Iras gazed at the strong man and shook her head. She, too, loved theQueen; the news had brought tears to her eyes also; but even while shewept, a host of plans coping with this disaster had darted throughher restless brain. A few minutes after the arrival of the message ofmisfortune she had consulted with the members of Cleopatra's council,and adopted measures for sustaining the people's belief in the navalvictory.
What was she, the delicate, by no means courageous girl, comparedto this man of iron strength who, she was well aware, had braved thegreatest perils in the service of the Queen? Yet there he lay with hisface hidden in the pillows as if utterly overwhelmed.
Did a woman's soul rebound more quickly after being crushed beneath theburdens of the heaviest suffering, or was hers of a special character,and her slender body the casket of a hero's nature?
She had reason to believe so when she recalled how the Regent and theKeeper of the Seal had received the terrible news. They had rushedfrantically up and down the vast hall as if desperate; but Mardion theeunuch had little manhood, and Zeno was a characterless old author whohad won the Queen's esteem, and the high office which he occupied solelyby the vivid power of imagination, that enabled him constantly to devisenew exhibitions, amusements, and entertainments, and present them withmagical splendour.
But Archibius, the brave, circumspect counsellor and helper?
His shoulders again quivered as if they had received a blow, andIras suddenly remembered what she had long known, but never fullyrealized--that yonder grey-haired man loved Cleopatra, loved her as sheherself loved Dion; and she wondered whether she would have been strongenough to maintain her composure if she had learned that a cruel fatethreatened to rob him of life, liberty, and honour.
Hour after hour she had vainly awaited the young Alexandrian, yet hehad witnessed her anxiety the day before. Had she offended him? Was hedetained by the spell of Didymus's granddaughter?
It seemed a great wrong that, amid the unspeakably terrible misfortunewhich had overtaken her mistress, she could not refrain from thinkingcontinually of Dion. Even as his image filled her heart, Cleopatra'sruled her uncle's mind and soul, and she said to herself that it was notalone among women that love paid no heed to years, or whether the lockswere brown or tinged with grey.
But Archibius now raised himself, left the couch, passed his hand acrosshis brow, and in the deep, calm tones natural to his voice, began with asorrowful smile: "A man stricken by an arrow leaves the fray to have hiswound bandaged. The surgeon has now finished his task. I ought to havespared you this pitiable spectacle, child. But I am again
ready for thebattle. Cleopatra's account of Antony's condition renders a piece ofnews which we have just received somewhat more intelligible."
"We?" replied Iras. "Who was your companion?"
"Dion," answered Archibius; but when he was about to describe theincidents of the preceding night, she interrupted him with the questionwhether Barine had consented to leave the city. He assented with a curt"Yes," but Iras assumed the manner of having expected nothing different,and requested him to continue his story.
Archibius now related everything which they had experienced, and theirdiscovery in the pirate ship. Dion was even now on the way to carryAntony's order to his friend Gorgias.
"Any slave might have attended to that matter equally well," Irasremarked in an irritated tone. "I should think he would have more reasonto expect trustworthy tidings here. But that's the way with men!"
Here she hesitated but, meeting an inquiring glance from her uncle,she went on eagerly; "Nothing, I believe, binds them more firmly to oneanother than mutual pleasure. But that must now be over. They will seekother amusements, whether with Heliodora or Thais I care not. If thewoman had only gone before! When she caught young Caesarion--"
"Stay, child," her uncle interrupted reprovingly. "I know how much shewould rejoice if Antyllus had never brought the boy to her house."
"Now--because the poor deluded lad's infatuation alarms her."
"No, from his first visit. Immature boys do not suit the distinguishedmen whom she receives."
"If the door is always kept open, thieves will enter the house."
"She received only old acquaintances, and the friends whom theypresented. Her house was closed to all others. So there was no troublewith thieves. But who in Alexandria could venture to refuse admittanceto a son of the Queen?"
"There is a wide difference between quiet admittance and fanning apassion to madness. Wherever a fire is burning, there has certainly beena spark to kindle it. You men do not detect such women's work. A glance,a pressure of the hand, even the light touch of a garment, and the flameblazes, where such inflammable material lies ready."
"We lament the violence of the conflagration. You are not well disposedtowards Barine."
"I care no more for her than this couch here cares for the statue ofMercury in the street!" exclaimed Iras, with repellent arrogance. "Therecould be no two things in the world more utterly alien than we. Betweenthe woman whose door stands open, and me, there is nothing in commonsave our sex."
"And," replied Archibius reprovingly, "many a beautiful gift which thegods bestowed upon her as well as upon you. As for the open door, it wasclosed yesterday. The thieves of whom you spoke spoiled her pleasurein granting hospitality. Antyllus forced himself with noisy impetuosityinto her house. This made her dread still more unprecedented conduct inthe future. In a few hours she will be on the way to Irenia. I am gladfor Caesarion's sake, and still more for his mother's, whom we havewronged by forgetting so long for another."
"To think that we should be forced to do so!" cried Irasexcitedly--"now, at this hour, when every drop of blood, every thoughtof this poor brain should belong to the Queen! Yet it could not beavoided. Cleopatra is returning to us with a heart bleeding from ahundred wounds, and it is terrible to think that a new arrow must strikeher as soon as she steps upon her native soil. You know how she lovesthe boy, who is the living image of the great man with whom she sharedthe highest joys of love. When she learns that he, the son of Caesar,has given his young heart to the cast-off wife of a street orator, awoman whose home attracted men as ripe dates lure birds, it will be--Iknow--like rubbing salt into her fresh wounds. Alas! and the one sorrowwill not be all. Antony, her husband, also found the way to Barine. Hesought her more than once. You cannot know it as I do; but Charmian willtell you how sensitive she has become since the flower of her youthfulcharms--you don't perceive it--is losing one leaf after another.Jealousy will torture her, and--I know her well--perhaps no one willever render the siren a greater service than I did when I compelled herto leave the city."
The eyes of Archibius's clever niece had glittered with such hostilefeeling as she spoke that he thought with just anxiety of his deadfriend's daughter. What did not yet threaten Barine as serious dangerIras had the power to transform into grave peril.
Dion had begged him to maintain strict secrecy; but even had he beenpermitted to speak, he would not have done so now. From his knowledge ofIras's character she might be expected, if she learned that some one hadcome between her and the friend of her youth, to shrink from no meansof spoiling her game. He remembered the noble Macedonian maiden whom theQueen had begun to favour, and who was hunted to death by Iras's hostileintrigues. Few were more clever, and--if she once loved--more loyal anddevoted, more yielding, pliant, and in happy hours more bewitching, yeteven in childhood she had preferred a winding path to a straight one.It seemed as if her shrewdness scorned to attain the end desired bythe simple method lying close at hand. How willingly his mother and hisyounger sister Charmian had cared for the slaves and nursed them whenthey were ill; nay, Charmian had gained in her Nubian maid Aniukis afriend who would have gone to death for her sake! Cleopatra, too, whena child, had found sincere delight in taking a bouquet to his parents'sick old housekeeper and sitting by her bedside to shorten the time forher with merry talk. She had gone to her unasked, while Iras had oftenbeen punished because she had made the lives of numerous slaves in herparents' household still harder by unreasonable harshness. This traitin her character had roused her uncle's anxiety and, in after-years, hertreatment of her inferiors had been such that he could not number heramong the excellent of her sex. Therefore he was the more joyfullysurprised by the loyal, unselfish love with which she devoted herselfto the service of the Queen. Cleopatra had gratified Charmian's wish tohave her niece for an assistant; and Iras, who had never been a lovingdaughter to her own faithful mother, had served her royal mistress withthe utmost tenderness.
Archibius valued this loyalty highly, but he knew what awaited any onewho became the object of her hatred, and the fear that it would involveBarine in urgent peril was added to his still greater anxiety forCleopatra.
When about to depart, burdened by the sorrowful conviction that he waspowerless against his niece's malevolent purpose, he was detained by therepresentation that every fresh piece of intelligence would first reachthe Sebasteum and her. Some question might easily arise which his calm,prudent mind could decide far better than hers, whose troubled conditionresembled a shallow pool disturbed by stones flung into the waves.
The apartments of his sister Charmian, which were connected with hisby a corridor, were empty, and Iras begged him to remain there a shorttime. The anxiety and dread that oppressed her heart would kill her. Toknow that he was near would be the greatest comfort.
When Archibius hesitated because he deemed it his duty to urgeCaesarion, over whom he possessed some influence, to give up his foolishwishes for his mother's sake, Iras assured him that he would not findthe youth. He had gone hunting with Antyllus and some other friends. Shehad approved the plan, because it removed him from the city and Barine'sdangerous house.
"As the Queen does not wish him to know the terrible news yet," sheconcluded, "his presence would only have caused us embarrassment. Sostay, and when it grows dark go with us to the Lochias. I think it willplease the sorrowing woman, when she lands, to see your familiar face,which will remind her of happier days. Do me the favour to stay." Sheheld out both hands beseechingly as she spoke, and Archibius consented.
A repast was served, and he shared it with his niece; but Iras did nottouch the carefully chosen viands, and Archibius barely tasted them.Then, without waiting for dessert, he rose to go to his sister'sapartments. But Iras urged him to rest on the divan in the adjoiningroom, and he yielded. Yet, spite of the softness of the pillows and hisgreat need of sleep, he could not find it; anxiety kept him awake, andthrough the curtain which divided the room in which Iras remainedfrom the one he occupied he sometimes heard her light footsteps
pacingrestlessly to and fro, sometimes the coming and going of messengers inquest of news.
All his former life passed before his mind. Cleopatra had been his sun,and now black clouds were rising which would dim its light, perchanceforever. He, the disciple of Epicurus, who had not followed thedoctrines of other masters until later in life, held the same viewof the gods as his first master. To him also they had seemed immortalbeings sufficient unto themselves, dwelling free from anxiety inblissful peace, to whom mortals must look upward on account of theirsupreme grandeur, but who neither troubled themselves about theguidance of the world, which was fixed by eternal laws, nor the fateof individuals. Had he been convinced of the contrary, he would havesacrificed everything he possessed in order, by lavish offerings, topropitiate the immortals in behalf of her to whom he had devoted hislife and every faculty of his being.
Like Iras, he, too, could find no rest upon his couch, and when sheheard his step she called to him and asked why he did not recover thesleep which he had lost. No one knew the demands the next night mightmake upon him.
"You will find me awake," he answered quietly.
Then he went to the window which, above the pylons that rose before themain front of the Sebasteum, afforded a view of the Bruchium and thesea. The harbour was now swarming with vessels of every size, garlandedwith flowers and adorned with gay flags and streamers. The report ofthe successful issue of the first naval battle was believed, and manydesired to greet the victorious fleet and hail their sovereign as sheentered the harbour.
Many people, equipages, and litters had also gathered on the shore,between the lofty pylons and the huge door of the Sebasteum. They wererepresentatives of the aristocracy of the city; for the majority wereattended by richly attired slaves. Many wore costly garlands, andnumerous chariots and litters were adorned with gold or silverornaments, gems, and glittering paste. The stir and movement in frontof the palace were ceaseless, and Iras, who was now standing beside heruncle, waved her hand towards it, saying: "The wind of rumour! Yesterdayonly one or two came; to-day every one who belongs to the 'InimitableLivers' flocks hither in person to get news. The victory was proclaimedin the market-place, at the theatre, the gymnasium, and the camp. Everyone who wears garlands or weapons heard of a battle won. Yesterday,among all the thousands, there was scarcely a single doubter; butto-day-how does it happen? Even among those who as 'Inimitables' haveshared all the pleasures, entertainments, and festivities of our noblepair, faith wavers; for if they were firmly convinced of the brilliantvictory which was announced loudly enough, they would not comethemselves to watch, to spy, to listen. Just look down! There is thelitter of Diogenes--yonder that of Ammonius. The chariot beyond belongsto Melampous. The slaves in the red bombyx garments serve Hermias. Theyall belong to the society of--'Inimitables,' and shared our banquets.That very Apollonius who, for the last half hour, has been trying toquestion the palace servants, day before yesterday ordered fifty oxento be slaughtered to Ares, Nike, and the great Isis, as the Queen'sgoddess, and when I met him in the temple he exclaimed that this was thegreatest piece of extravagance he had ever committed; for even withoutthe cattle Cleopatra and Antony would be sure of victory. But now thewind of rumour has swept away his beautiful confidence also. They arenot permitted to see me. The doorkeepers say that I am in the country.The necessity of showing every one a face radiant with the joy ofvictory would kill me. There comes Apollonius. How his fat face beams!He believes in the victory, and after sunset none of yonder throng willappear here; he is already giving orders to his slaves. He will inviteall his friends to a banquet, and won't spare his costly wines. Capital!At least no one from that company can disturb us. Dion is his cousin,and will be present also. We shall see what these pleasure-lovers willdo when they are forced to confront, the terrible reality."
"I think," replied Archibius, "they will afford the world a remarkablespectacle; friends won in prosperity who remain constant in adversity."
"Do you?" asked Iras, with sparkling eyes. "If that proves true, how Iwould praise and value men--the majority of whom without their wealthwould be poorer than beggars. But look at yonder figure in the whiterobe beside the left obelisk--is it not Dion? The crowd is bearing himaway--I think it was he."
But she had been deceived; the man whom she fancied she had seen,because her heart so ardently yearned for him, was not near theSebasteum, and his thoughts were still farther away.
At first he had intended to give the architect the letter which wasaddressed to him. He would be sure to find him at the triumphal archwhich was being erected on the shore of the Bruchium. But on reachingthe former place he learned that Gorgias had gone to remove the statuesof Cleopatra and Antony from the house of Didymus, and erect them infront of the Theatre of Dionysus. The Regent, Mardion, had ordered it.Gorgias was already superintending the erection of the foundation.
The huge hewn stones which he required for this purpose had been takenfrom the Temple of Nemesis, which he was supervising. Whatever number ofgovernment slaves he needed were at his disposal, so Gorgias's foremanreported, proudly adding that before the sun went down, the architectwould have shown the Alexandrians the marvel of removing the twinstatues from one place to another in a single day, and yet establishingthem as firmly as the Colossus which had been in Thebes a thousandyears.
Dion found the piece of sculpture in front of Didymus's garden, readyfor removal, but the slaves who had placed before the platform therollers on which it was to be moved had already been kept waiting a longtime by the architect.
This was his third visit to the old philosopher's house. First, he hadbeen obliged to inform him and his family that their property was nolonger in danger; then he had come to tell them at what hour he wouldremove the statues, which still attracted many curious spectators; and,finally, he had again appeared, to announce that they were to be takenaway at once. His foreman or a slave could probably have done this, butHelena--Didymus's granddaughter, Barine's sister--drew him again andagain to the old man's home. He would gladly have come still morefrequently, for at every meeting he had discovered fresh charms in thebeautiful, quiet, thoughtful maiden, who cared so tenderly for her agedgrandparents. He believed that he loved her, and she seemed glad towelcome him. But this did not entitle him to seek her hand, though hislarge, empty house so greatly needed a mistress. His heart had glowedwith love for too many. He wished first to test whether this new fancywould prove more lasting. If he succeeded in remaining faithful even afew days, he would, as it were, reward himself for it, and appear beforeDidymus as a suitor.
He excused his frequent visits to himself on the pretext of thenecessity of becoming acquainted with his future wife, and Helena madethe task easier for him. The usual reserve of her manner lessened moreand more; nay, the great confidence with which he at first inspired herwas increased by his active assistance. When he entered just now, shehad even held out her hand to him, and inquired about the progress ofhis work.
He was overwhelmed with business, but so great was his pleasure intalking with her that he lingered longer than he would have deemedright under any other circumstances, and regarded it as an unpleasantinterruption when Barine--for whom his heart had throbbed so warmly onlyyesterday--entered the tablinum.
The young beauty was by no means content with a brief greeting; but drewHelena entirely away from him. Never had he seen her embrace and kissher sister so passionately as while hurriedly telling her that she hadcome to bid farewell to the loved ones in her grandparents' house.
Berenike had arrived with her, but went first to the old couple.
While Barine was telling Helena and Gorgias, also, why all this plan hadbeen formed so hastily, Gorgias was silently comparing the two sisters.He found it natural that he had once believed that he loved Barine; butshe would not have been a fitting mistress of his house. Life at herside would have been a chain of jealous emotions and anxieties, and herstimulating remarks and searching questions, which demanded absoluteattention, would not have permitted him, after his
return home, weariedby arduous toil, to find the rest for which he longed. His eye wanderedfrom her to her sister, as if testing the space between two newlyerected pillars; and Barine, who had noticed his strange manner,suddenly laughed merrily, and asked whether they might know whatbuilding was occupying his thoughts, while a good friend was telling himthat the pleasant hours in her house were over.
Gorgias started, and the apology he stammered showed so plainly howinattentively he had listened, that Barine would have had good reason tofeel offended. But one glance at her sister and another at him enabledher speedily to guess the truth. She was pleased; for she esteemedGorgias, and had secretly feared that she might be forced to grieve himby a refusal, but he seemed as if created for her sister. Her arrivalhad probably interrupted them so, turning to Helena, she exclaimed: "Imust see my mother and our grandparents. Meanwhile entertain our friendhere. We know each other well. He is one of the few men who can betrusted. That is my honest opinion, Gorgias, and I say it to you also,Helena."
With these words she nodded to both, and Gorgias was again alone withthe maiden whom he loved.
It was difficult to begin the conversation anew, and when, spite ofmany efforts, it would not flow freely, the shout of the overseer, whichreached his ear through the opening of the roof, urging the men to work,was like a deliverance. Promising to return again soon, as eagerly asif he had been requested to do so, he took his leave and opened the doorleading into the adjoining room. But on the threshold he started back,and Helena, who had followed him, did the same, for there stood hisfriend Dion, and Barine's beautiful head lay on his breast, while hishand rested as if in benediction on her fair hair. And--no, Gorgiaswas not mistaken-the slender frame of the lovely woman, whose exuberantvivacity had so often borne him and others away with it, trembled as ifshaken by deep and painful emotion.
When Dion perceived his friend, and Barine raised her head, turning herface towards him, it was indeed wet with tears, but their source couldnot be sorrow; for her blue eyes were sparkling with a happy light.
Yet Gorgias found something in her features which he was unable toexpress in words--the reflection of the ardent gratitude that had takenpossession of her soul and filled it absolutely. While seeking thearchitect, Dion had met Barine, who was on her way to her grandparents,and what he had dreaded the day before happened. The first glance fromher eyes which met his forced the decisive question from his lips.
In brief, earnest words he confessed his love for her, and his desire tomake her his own, as the pride and ornament of his house.
Then, in the intensity of her bliss, her eyes overflowed and, under thespell of a great miracle wrought in her behalf, she found no words toanswer; but Dion had approached, clasped her right hand in both of his,and frankly acknowledged how, with the image of his strict mother beforehis eyes, he had wavered and hesitated until love had overmastered him.Now, full of the warmest confidence, he asked whether she would consentto rule as mistress of his home, the honour and ornament of his ancientname? He knew that her heart was his, but he must hear one thing morefrom her lips--
Here she had interrupted him with the cry, "This one thing--that yourwife, in joy and in sorrow, will live for you and you alone? The wholeworld can vanish for her, now that you have raised her to your side andshe is yours."
After this assurance, which sounded like an oath, Dion felt as if aheavy burden had fallen from his heart, and clasping her in his armswith passionate tenderness, he repeated, "In joy and in sorrow!"
Thus Gorgias and Helena had surprised them, and the architect felt forthe first time that there is no distinction between our own happinessand that of those whom we love.
His friend Helena seemed to have the same feeling, when she saw whatthis day had given her sister; and the philosopher's house, so latelyshadowed by anxiety, and many a fear, would soon ring with voicesuttering joyous congratulations. The architect no longer felt that hehad a place in this circle, which was now pervaded by a great commonjoy, and after Dion made a brief explanation, Gorgias's voice was soonheard outside loudly issuing orders to the workmen.