CHAPTER XXIX: NEMESIS
And was the Amal's news true, then?
Philammon saw Raphael rush across the street into the Museum gardens.His last words had been a command to stay where he was; and the boyobeyed him. The black porter who let Raphael out told him somewhatinsolently, that his mistress would see no one, and receive no messages:but he had made up his mind: complained of the sun, quietly ensconcedhimself behind a buttress, and sat coiled up on the pavement, ready fora desperate spring. The slave stared at him: but he was accustomed tothe vagaries of philosophers; and thanking the gods that he was not bornin that station of life, retired to his porter's cell, and forgot thewhole matter.
There Philammon awaited a full half-hour. It seemed to him hours, days,years. And yet Raphael did not return: and yet no guards appeared. Wasthe strange Jew a traitor? Impossible!--his face had shown a desperateearnestness of terror as intense as Philammon's own.... Yet why did henot return?
Perhaps he had found out that the streets were clear; their mutual fearsgroundless.... What meant that black knot of men some two hundred yardsoff, hanging about the mouth of the side street, just opposite thedoor which led to her lecture-room? He moved to watch them: they hadvanished. He lay down again and waited.... There they were again. It wasa suspicious post. That street ran along the back of the Caesareum, afavourite haunt of monks, communicating by innumerable entries and backbuildings with the great Church itself.... And yet, why should therenot be a knot of monks there? What more common in every street ofAlexandria? He tried to laugh away his own fears. And yet they ripened,by the very intensity of thinking on them, into certainty. He knew thatsomething terrible was at hand. More than once he looked out from hishiding-place--the knot of men were still there;.... it seemed to haveincreased, to draw nearer. If they found him, what would they notsuspect? What did he care? He would die for her, if it came to that--notthat it could come to that: but still he must speak to her--he must warnher. Passenger after passenger, carriage after carriage passed along thestreet: student after student entered the lecture-room; but he never sawthem, not though they passed him close. The sun rose higher and higher,and turned his whole blaze upon the corner where Philammon crouched,till the pavement scorched like hot iron, and his eyes were dazzled bythe blinding glare: but he never heeded it. His whole heart, and sense,and sight, were riveted upon that well-known door, expecting it toopen....
At last a curricle, glittering with silver, rattled round the cornerand stopped opposite him. She must becoming now. The crowd had vanished.Perhaps it was, after all, a fancy of his own. No; there they were,peeping round the corner, close to the lecture-room--the hell-hounds! Aslave brought out an embroidered cushion--and then Hypatia herselfcame forth, looking more glorious than ever; her lips set in a sad firmsmile; her eyes uplifted, inquiring, eager, and yet gentle, dimmed bysome great inward awe, as if her soul was far away aloft, and face toface with God.
In a moment he sprang up to her, caught her robe convulsively, threwhimself on his knees before her--
'Stop! Stay! You are going to destruction!'
Calmly she looked down upon him.
'Accomplice of witches! Would you make of Theon's daughter a traitorlike yourself?'
He sprang up, stepped back, and stood stupefied with shame anddespair....
She believed him guilty, then!.... It was the will of God!
The plumes of the horses were waving far down the street before herecovered himself, and rushed after her, shouting he knew not what.
It was too late! A dark wave of men rushed from the ambuscade, surgedup round the car.... swept forward.... she had disappeared! and asPhilammon followed breathless, the horses galloped past him madlyhomeward with the empty carriage.
Whither were they dragging her? To the Caesareum, the Church of GodHimself? Impossible! Why thither of all places of the earth? Why did themob, increasing momentarily by hundreds, pour down upon the beach, andreturn brandishing flints, shells, fragments of pottery?
She was upon the church steps before he caught them up, invisible amongthe crowd; but he could track her by the fragments of her dress.
Where were her gay pupils now? Alas! they had barricaded themselvesshamefully in the Museum, at the first rush which swept her from thedoor of the lecture-room. Cowards! he would save her!
And he struggled in vain to pierce the dense mass of Parabolani andmonks, who, mingled with the fishwives and dock-workers, leaped andyelled around their victim. But what he could not do another and aweaker did--even the little porter. Furiously--no one knew how orwhence--he burst up as if from the ground in the thickest of the crowd,with knife, teeth, and nails, like a venomous wild-cat, tearing his waytowards his idol. Alas! he was torn down himself, rolled over the steps,and lay there half dead in an agony of weeping, as Philammon sprang uppast him into the church.
Yes. On into the church itself! Into the cool dim shadow, with itsfretted pillars, and lowering domes, and candles, and incense, andblazing altar, and great pictures looking from the walls athwart thegorgeous gloom. And right in front, above the altar, the colossal Christwatching unmoved from off the wall, His right hand raised to give ablessing--or a curse?
On, up the nave, fresh shreds of her dress strewing the holypavement--up the chancel steps themselves--up to the altar--rightunderneath the great still Christ: and there even those hell-houndspaused.
She shook herself free from her tormentors, and springing back, rose forone moment to her full height, naked, snow-white against the dusky massaround--shame and indignation in those wide clear eyes, but not a stainof fear. With one hand she clasped her golden locks around her; theother long white arm was stretched upward toward the great still Christappealing--and who dare say in vain?--from man to God. Her lips wereopened to speak: but the words that should have come from them reachedGod's ear alone; for in an instant Peter struck her down, the darkmass closed over her again.... and then wail on wail, long, wild,ear-piercing, rang along the vaulted roofs, and thrilled like thetrumpet of avenging angels through Philammon's ears.
Crushed against a pillar, unable to move in the dense mass, he pressedhis hands over his ears. He could not shut out those shrieks! When wouldthey end? What in the name of the God of mercy were they doing? Tearingher piecemeal? Yes, and worse than that. And still the shrieks rangon, and still the great Christ looked down on Philammon with that calm,intolerable eye, and would not turn away. And over His head was writtenin the rainbow, 'I am the same, yesterday, to-day, and for ever!' Thesame as He was in Judea of old, Philammon? Then what are these, and inwhose temple? And he covered his face with his hands, and longed to die.
It was over. The shrieks had died away into moans; the moans to silence.How long had he been there? An hour, or an eternity? Thank God it wasover! For her sake--but for theirs? But they thought not of that as anew cry rose through the dome.
'To the Cinaron! Burn the bones to ashes! Scatter them into the sea!'And the mob poured past him again....
He turned to flee: but, once outside the church, he sank exhausted, andlay upon the steps, watching with stupid horror the glaring of thefire, and the mob who leaped and yelled like demons round their Molochsacrifice.
A hand grasped his arm; he looked up; it was the porter.
'And this, young butcher, is the Catholic and apostolic Church?'
'No! Eudaimon, it is the church of the devils of hell!' And gatheringhimself up, he sat upon the steps and buried his head within his hands.He would have given life itself for the power of weeping: but his eyesand brain were hot and dry as the desert.
Eudaimon looked at him a while. The shock had sobered the poor fop foronce.
'I did what I could to die with her!' said he.
'I did what I could to save her!' answered Philammon.
'I know it. Forgive the words which I just spoke. Did we not both loveher?'
And the little wretch sat down by Philammon's side, and as the blooddripped from his wounds upon the pavement, broke out into a bitter agonyof human
tears.
There are times when the very intensity of our misery is a boon, andkindly stuns us till we are unable to torture ourselves by thought. Andso it was with Philammon then. He sat there, he knew not how long.
'She is with the gods,' said Eudaimon at last.
'She is with the God of gods,' answered Philammon: and they both weresilent again.
Suddenly a commanding voice aroused them.
They looked up, and saw before them Raphael Aben-Ezra.
He was pale as death, but calm as death. One look into his face toldthem that he knew all.
'Young monk,' he said, between his closed teeth, 'you seem to have lovedher?'
Philammon looked up, but could not speak.
'Then arise, and flee for your life into the farthest corner of thedesert, ere the doom of Sodom and Gomorrha fall upon this accursed city.Have you father, mother, brother, sister,--ay, cat, dog, or bird forwhich you care, within its walls?'
Philammon started; for he recollected Pelagia.... That evening, so Cyrilhad promised, twenty trusty monks were to have gone with him to seizeher.
'You have? Then take them with you, and escape, and remember Lot's wife.Eudaimon, come with me. You must lead me to your house, to the lodgingof Miriam the Jewess. Do not deny! I know that she is there. For thesake of her who is gone I will hold you harmless, ay, reward you richly,if you prove faithful. Rise!'
Eudaimon, who knew Raphael's face well, rose and led the way trembling;and Philammon was left alone.
They never met again. But Philammon knew that he had been in thepresence of a stronger man than himself, and of one who hated even morebitterly than he himself that deed at which the very sun, it seemed,ought to have veiled his face. And his words, 'Arise, and flee for thylife,' uttered as they were with the stern self-command and writhing lipof compressed agony, rang through his ears like the trump of doom. Yes,he would flee. He had gone forth to see the world, and he had seen it.Arsenius was in the right after all. Home to the desert! But first hewould go himself, alone, to Pelagia, and implore her once more to fleewith him. Beast, fool, that he had been to try to win her by force--bythe help of such as these! God's kingdom was not a kingdom of fanaticsyelling for a doctrine, but of willing, loving, obedient hearts. If hecould not win her heart, her will, he would go alone, and die prayingfor her.
He sprang from the steps of the Caesareum, and turned up the street ofthe Museum. Alas! it was one roaring sea of heads! They were sackingTheon's house--the house of so many memories! Perhaps the poor old mantoo had perished! Still--his sister! He must save her and flee. And heturned up a side street and tried to make his way onward.
Alas again! the whole of the dock-quarter was up and out. Every streetpoured its tide of furious fanatics into the main river; and ere hecould reach Pelagia's house the sun was set, and close behind him,echoed by ten thousand voices, was the cry of 'Down with all heathens!Root out all Arian Goths! Down with idolatrous wantons! Down withPelagia Aphrodite!'
He hurried down the alley, to the tower door, where Wulf had promisedto meet him. It was half open, and in the dusk he could see a figurestanding in the doorway. He sprang up the steps, and found, not Wulf,but Miriam.
'Let me pass!'
'Wherefore?'
He made no answer, and tried to push past her.
'Fool, fool, fool!' whispered the hag, holding the door against him withall her strength. 'Where are your fellow-kidnappers? Where are your bandof monks?'
Philammon started back. How had she discovered his plan?
'Ay--where are they? Besotted boy! Have you not seen enough of monkerythis afternoon, that you must try still to make that poor girl even sucha one as yourselves? Ay, you may root out your own human natures if youwill, and make yourselves devils in trying to become angels: but womanshe is, and woman she shall live or die!'
'Let me pass!' cried Philammon furiously.
'Raise your voice--and I raise mine: and then your life is not worth amoment's purchase. Fool, do you think I speak as a Jewess? I speak asa woman--as a nun! I was a nun once, madman--the iron entered into mysoul!--God do so to me, and more also, if it ever enter into anothersoul while I can prevent it! You shall not have her! I will strangle herwith my own hand first!' And turning from him, she darted up the windingstair.
He followed: but the intense passion of the old hag hurled her onwardwith the strength and speed of a young Maenad. Once Philammon wasnear passing her. But he recollected that he did not know his way, andcontented himself with keeping close behind, and making the fugitive hisguide.
Stair after stair, he fled upward, till she turned suddenly into achamber door. Philammon paused. A few feet above him the open sky showedat the stair-head. They were close then to the roof! One moment more,and the hag darted out of the room again, and turned to flee upwardstill. Philammon caught her by the arm, hurled her back into the emptychamber, shut the door upon her; and with a few bounds gained the roof,and met Pelagia face to face.
'Come!' gasped he breathlessly. 'Now is the moment! Come, while they areall below!' and he seized her hand.
But Pelagia only recoiled.
'No, no,' whispered she in answer, 'I cannot, cannot--he has forgiven meall, all! and I am his for ever! And now, just as he is in danger, whenhe may be wounded--ah, heaven! would you have me do anything so base asto desert him?'
'Pelagia, Pelagia, darling sister!' cried Philammon, in an agonisedvoice, 'think of the doom of sin! Think of the pains of hell!'
'I have thought of them this day: and I do not believe you! No--I donot! God is not so cruel as you say! And if He were:--to lose my love,that is hell! Let me burn hereafter, if I do but keep him now!'
Philammon stood stupefied and shuddering. All his own early doubtsflashed across him like a thunderbolt, when in the temple-cave he hadseen those painted ladies at their revels, and shuddered, and askedhimself, were they burning for ever and ever?
'Come!' gasped he once again; and throwing himself on his knees beforeher, covered her hands with kisses, wildly entreating: but in vain.
'What is this?' thundered a voice; not Miriam's, but the Amal's. He wasunarmed but he rushed straight upon Philammon.
'Do not harm him!' shrieked Pelagia; 'he is my brother--my brother ofwhom I told you!'
'What does he here?' cried the Amal, who instantly divined the truth.
Pelagia was silent.
'I wish to deliver my sister, a Christian, from the sinful embraces ofan Arian heretic; and deliver her I will, or die!'
'An Arian?' laughed the Amal. 'Say a heathen at once, and tell thetruth, young fool! Will you go with him, Pelagia, and turn nun in thesand-heaps?'
Pelagia sprang towards her lover: Philammon caught her by the arm forone last despairing appeal: and in a moment, neither knew how, the Gothand the Greek were locked in deadly struggle, while Pelagia stood insilent horror, knowing that a call for help would bring instant death toher brother.
It was over in a few seconds. The Goth lifted Philammon like a baby inhis arms, and bearing him to the parapet, attempted to hurl him into thecanal below. But the active Greek had wound himself like a snake aroundhim, and held him by the throat with the strength of despair. Twice theyrolled and tottered on the parapet; and twice recoiled. A third fearfullunge--the earthen wall gave way; and down to the dark depths, locked ineach other's arms, fell Goth and Greek.
Pelagia rushed to the brink, and gazed downward into the gloom, dumb anddry-eyed with horror. Twice they turned over together in mid-air.... Thefoot of the tower, as was usual in Egypt, sloped outwards towards thewater. They must strike upon that--and then! ....It seemed an eternityere they touched the masonry.... The Amal was undermost.... She saw hisfair floating locks dash against the cruel stone. His grasp suddenlyloosened, his limbs collapsed; two distinct plunges broke the darksullen water; and then all was still but the awakened ripple, lappingangrily against the wall.
Pelagia gazed down one moment more, and then, with a shriek which rangalong roof and river, she turned, a
nd fled down the stairs and out intothe night.
Five minutes afterwards, Philammon, dripping, bruised, and bleeding, wascrawling up the water-steps at the lower end of the lane. A woman rushedfrom the postern door, and stood on the quay edge, gazing with claspedhands into the canal. The moon fell full on her face. It was Pelagia.She saw him, knew him, and recoiled.
'Sister!--my sister! Forgive me!'
'Murderer!' she shrieked, and dashing aside his outspread hands, fledwildly up the passage.
The way was blocked with bales of merchandise: but the dancer boundedover them like a deer; while Philammon, half stunned by his fall, andblinded by his dripping locks, stumbled, fell, and lay, unable to rise.She held on for a few yards towards the torch-lit mob, which was surgingand roaring in the main street above, then turned suddenly into a sidealley, and vanished; while Philammon lay groaning upon the pavement,without a purpose or a hope upon earth.
Five minutes more, and Wulf was gazing over the broken parapet, at thehead of twenty terrified spectators, male and female, whom Pelagia'sshriek had summoned.
He alone suspected that Philammon had been there; and shuddering at thethought of what might have happened, he kept his secret.
But all knew that Pelagia had been on the tower; all had seen the Amalgo up thither. Where were they now? And why was the little postern gatefound open, and shut only just in time to prevent the entrance of themob?
Wulf stood, revolving in a brain but too well practised in such cases,all possible contingencies of death and horror. At last--
'A rope and a light, Smid!' he almost whispered.
They were brought, and Wulf, resisting all the entreaties of the youngermen to allow them to go on the perilous search, lowered himself throughthe breach.
He was about two-thirds down, when he shook the rope, and called in astifled voice, to those above--
'Haul up. I have seen enough.'
Breathless with curiosity and fear, they hauled him up. He stood amongthem for a few moments, silent, as if stunned by the weight of someenormous woe.
'Is he dead?'
'Odin has taken his son home, wolves of the Goths!' And he held outhis right hand to the awe-struck ring, and burst into an agony ofweeping.... A clotted tress of long fair hair lay in his palm.
It was snatched; handed from man to man.... One after another recognisedthe beloved golden locks. And then, to the utter astonishment of thegirls who stood round, the great simple hearts, too brave to be ashamedof tears, broke out and wailed like children .... Their Amal! Theirheavenly man! Odin's own son, their joy and pride, and glory! Their'Kingdom of heaven,' as his name declared him, who was all that eachwished to be, and more, and yet belonged to them, bone of their bone,flesh of their flesh! Ah, it is bitter to all true human hearts to berobbed of their ideal, even though that ideal be that of a mere wildbull, and soulless gladiator....
At last Smid spoke--
'Heroes, this is Odin's doom; and the All-father is just. Had welistened to Prince Wulf four months ago, this had never been. We havebeen cowards and sluggards, and Odin is angry with his children. Let usswear to be Prince Wulf's men and follow him to-morrow where he will!'
Wulf grasped his outstretched hand lovingly-- 'No, Smid, son of Troll!These words are not yours to speak. Agilmund son of Cniva, Goderic sonof Ermenric, you are Balts, and to you the succession appertains. Drawlots here, which of you shall be our chieftain.'
'No! no! Wulf!' cried both the youths at once. 'You are the hero! youare the Sagaman! We are not worthy; we have been cowards and sluggards,like the rest. Wolves of the Goths, follow the Wolf, even though he leadyou to the land of the giants!'
A roar of applause followed.
'Lift him on the shield,' cried Goderic, tearing off his buckler. 'Lifthim on the shield! Hail, Wulf king! Wulf, king of Egypt!'
And the rest of the Goths, attracted by the noise, rushed up thetower-stairs in time to join in the mighty shout of 'Wulf, king ofEgypt!'--as careless of the vast multitude which yelled and surgedwithout, as boys are of the snow against the window-pane.
'No!' said Wulf solemnly, as he stood on the uplifted shield. 'If I beindeed your king, and ye my men, wolves of the Goths, to-morrow we willgo forth of this place, hated of Odin, rank with the innocent blood ofthe Alruna maid. Back to Adolf; back to our own people! Will you go?'
'Back to Adolf!' shouted the men.
'You will not leave us to be murdered?' cried one of the girls. 'The mobare breaking the gates already!'
'Silence, silly one! Men--we have one thing to do. The Amal must not goto the Valhalla without fair attendance.'
'Not the poor girls?' said Agilmund, who took for granted that Wulfwould wish to celebrate the Amal's funeral in true Gothic fashion by aslaughter of slaves.
'No.... One of them I saw behave this very afternoon worthy of a Vala.And they, too--they may make heroes' wives after all, yet .... Women arebetter than I fancied, even the worst of them. No. Go down, heroes, andthrow the gates open; and call in the Greek hounds to the funeral supperof a son of Odin.'
'Throw the gates open?'
'Yes. Goderic, take a dozen men, and be ready in the east hall.Agilmund, go with a dozen to the west side of the court--there in thekitchen; and wait till you hear my war-cry. Smid and the rest of you,come with me through the stables close to the gate--as silent as Hela.'
And they went down--to meet, full on the stairs below, old Miriam.
Breathless and exhausted by her exertion, she had fallen heavily beforePhilammon's strong arm; and lying half stunned for a while, recoveredjust in time to meet her doom.
She knew that it was come, and faced it like herself.
'Take the witch!' said Wulf slowly--'Take the corrupter of heroes--thecause of all our sorrows!'
Miriam looked at him with a quiet smile.
'The witch is accustomed long ago to hear fools lay on her theconsequences of their own lust and laziness.'
'Hew her down, Smid, son of Troll, that she may pass the Amal's soul andgladden it on her way to Niflheim.'
Smid did it: but so terrible were the eyes which glared upon him fromthose sunken sockets, that his sight was dazzled. The axe turned aside,and struck her shoulder. She reeled, but did not fall.
'It is enough,' she said quietly.
'The accursed Grendel's daughter numbed my arm!' said Smid. 'Let her go!No man shall say that I struck a woman twice.'
'Nidhogg waits for her, soon or late,' answered Wulf.
And Miriam, coolly folding her shawl around her, turned and walkedsteadily down the stair; while all men breathed more freely, as ifdelivered from some accursed and supernatural spell.
'And now,' said Wulf, 'to your posts, and vengeance!'
The mob had weltered and howled ineffectually around the house for somehalf-hour. But the lofty walls, opening on the street only by a fewnarrow windows in the higher stories, rendered it an impregnablefortress. Suddenly, the iron gates were drawn back, disclosing tothe front rank the court, glaring empty and silent and ghastly in themoonlight. For an instant they recoiled, with a vague horror, and dreadof treachery: but the mass behind pressed them onward, and in sweptthe murderers of Hypatia, till the court was full of choking wretches,surging against the walls and pillars in aimless fury. And then, fromunder the archway on each side, rushed a body of tall armed men, drivingback all incomers more; the gates slid together again upon their groovesand the wild beasts of Alexandria were trapped at last.
And then began a murder grim and great. From three different doorsissued a line of Goths, whose helmets and mail-shirts made theminvulnerable to the clumsy weapons of the mob, and began hewing theirway right through the living mass, helpless from their close-packedarray. True, they were but as one to ten; but what are ten curs beforeone lion?.... And the moon rose higher and higher, staring down ghastlyand unmoved upon that doomed court of the furies, and still the billsand swords hewed on and on, and the Goths drew the corpses, as theyfound room, towards a dark pile in the midst, where
old Wulf sat upona heap of slain, singing the praises of the Amal and the glories ofValhalla, while the shrieks of his lute rose shrill above the shrieks ofthe flying and the wounded, and its wild waltz-time danced and rollickedon swifter and swifter as the old singer maddened, in awful mockery ofthe terror and agony around.
And so, by men and purposes which recked not of her, as is the wont ofProvidence, was the blood of Hypatia avenged in part that night. In partonly. For Peter the Reader, and his especial associates, were safe insanctuary at the Caesareum, clinging to the altar. Terrified at thestorm which they had raised, and fearing the consequences of an attackupon the palace, they had left the mob to run riot at its will; andescaped the swords of the Goths to be reserved for the more awfulpunishment of impunity.
Hypatia — or New Foes with an Old Face Page 30