Chapter XXII
The End of the Magnus
I
The months had come and gone for Cornelia as well as for QuintusDrusus, albeit in a very different manner. The war was raging uponland and sea. The Pompeian fleet controlled all the water avenues; theItalian peninsula was held by the Caesarians. Cornelia wrote severaltimes to old Mamercus at Praeneste, enclosing a letter which she beggedhim to forward to her lover wherever he might be. But no answer came.Once she learned definitely that the ship had been captured. For theother times she could imagine the same catastrophe. Still she had hercomfort. Rumours of battles, of sieges, and arduous campaigningdrifted over the Mediterranean. Now it was that a few days more wouldsee Caesar an outlaw without a man around him, and then Cornelia wouldbelieve none of it. Now it was that Pompeius was in sore straits, andthen she was all credulity. Yet beside these tidings there were otherstray bits of news very dear to her heart. Caesar, so it was said,possessed a young aide-de-camp of great valour and ability, oneQuintus Drusus, and the Imperator was already entrusting him withposts of danger and of responsibility. He had behaved gallantly atIlerda; he had won more laurels at the siege of Massilia. AtDyrrachium he had gained yet more credit. And on account of thesetidings, it may easily be imagined that Cornelia was prepared to bevery patient and to be willing to take the trying vicissitudes of herown life more lightly.
As a matter of fact, her own position at Alexandria had begun to growcomplicated. First of all, Agias had made one day a discovery in thecity which it was exceeding well for Artemisia was not postponed for alater occasion. Pratinas was in Alexandria. The young Greek had notbeen recognized when, as chance meetings will occur, he came acrosshis one-time antagonist face to face on the street. He had no fearsfor himself. But Artemisia was no longer safe in the city. Cleomenesarranged that the girl should be sent to a villa, owned by therelatives of his late wife, some distance up the Nile. Artemisia wouldthus be parted from Agias, but she would be quite safe; and to securethat, any sacrifice of stolen looks and pretty coquetry was cheerfullyaccepted.
Soon after this unpleasant little discovery, a far more serious eventoccurred. Pothinus the eunuch, Achillas, the Egyptian commander of thearmy, and Theodotus, a "rhetoric teacher," whose real business was tospin, not words, but court intrigues, had plotted together to placethe young King Ptolemaeus in sole power. The conspiracy ran its course.There was a rising of the "Macedonian"[180] guard at the palace, agathering of citizens in the squares of the capital, culminating inbloody riots and proclamations declaring the king vested with the onlysupreme power. Hot on the heels of this announcement it was bruitedaround the city that Cleopatra had escaped safely to Palestine, where,in due time, she would doubtless be collecting an army at the courtsof Hyrcanus, the Jewish prince, and other Syrian potentates, to returnand retake the crown.
[180] Macedonian it is needless to say was a mere name. The Graeco-Egyptian soldiery and citizen body of Alexandria probably had hardly a drop of Macedonian blood in their veins.
Alexandria was accustomed to such dynastic disruptions. The riotingover, the people were ready to go back to the paper and linenfactories, and willing to call Ptolemaeus the "Son of Ra," or "King,"until his sister should defeat him in battle. Cornelia grieved thatCleopatra should thus be forced into exile. She had grown more andmore intimate with the queen. The first glamour of Cleopatra'spresence had worn away. Cornelia saw her as a woman very beautiful,very wilful, gifted with every talent, yet utterly lacking that moralstability which would have been the crown of a perfect human organism.The two women had grown more and more in friendship and intimacy; andwhen Cornelia studied in detail the dark, and often hideous, coils andtwistings of the history of the Hellenistic royal families, the morevividly she realized that Cleopatra was the heiress of generations oflegalized license,[181] of cultured sensuality, of veneered cruelty,and sheer blood-thirstiness. Therefore Cornelia had pitied, notblamed, the queen, and, now that misfortune had fallen upon her, wasdistressed for the plight of Cleopatra.
[181] As, for instance, the repeated wedlock of brothers and sisters among the Ptolemies.
That Cornelia had been an intimate of the queen was perfectly wellknown in Alexandria. In fact, Cleomenes himself was of sufficientlyhigh rank to make any guest he might long entertain more or less of apublic personage. Cornelia was a familiar sight to the crowds, as shedrove daily on the streets and attended the theatre. Cleomenes beganto entertain suspicions that the new government was not quite pleasedto leave such a friend of Cleopatra's at liberty; and Agias took painsto discover that Pratinas was deep in the counsels of the virtualregent--Pothinus. But Cornelia scoffed at any suggestions that itmight be safer to leave the city and join Artemisia in the retreat upthe Nile. She had taken no part whatsoever in Egyptian politics, andshe was incapable of assisting to restore Cleopatra. As for thepossible influence of Pratinas in court, it seemed to her incrediblethat a man of his caliber could work her any injury, save by thedagger and poison cup. That an ignoble intriguer of his type couldinfluence the policy of state she refused to believe.
Thus it came to pass that Cornelia had only herself to thank, when theblow, such as it was, fell. The eunuch prime minister knew how tocover his actions with a velvet glove. One evening a splendidlyuniformed division of Macedonian guard, led by one of the royal_somatophylakes_,[182] came with an empty chariot to the house ofCleomenes. The request they bore was signed with the royal seal, andwas politeness itself. It overflowed with semi-Oriental compliment andlaudation; but the purport was clear. On account of the great dangerin the city to foreigners from riots--ran the gist of the letter--andthe extremely disturbed condition of the times, the king wasconstrained to request Cornelia and Fabia to take up their residencein the palace, where they could receive proper protection and beprovided for in a princely manner, as became their rank.
[182] Commanders of the body-guard.
Cornelia had enough wisdom to see that only by taking the letter forthe intentions written on its face could she submit to the impliedcommand without loss of dignity. She had much difficulty in persuadingFabia to yield; for the Vestal was for standing on her Romanprerogatives and giving way to nothing except sheer force. ButCleomenes added his word, that only harm would come from resistance;and the two Roman ladies accompanied the escort back to the palace. Itwas not pleasant to pass into the power of a creature like Pothinus,even though the smooth-faced eunuch received his unwilling guests withOriental salaams and profuse requests to be allowed to humour theirleast desires. But the restraint, if such it can be called, couldhardly take a less objectionable form. Monime and Berenice, as ladieswhose father was known as a merchant prince of colourless politics,were allowed free access to their friends at the palace. YoungPtolemaeus, who was a dark-eyed and, at bottom, dark-hearted youth,completely under the thumb of Pothinus, exerted himself, after afashion, to be agreeable to his visitors; but he was too unfavourablea contrast to his gifted sister to win much grace in Cornelia's eyes.Agias, who was living with Cleomenes, nominally for the purpose oflearning the latter's business, preparatory to becoming a partner oncapital to come from his predatory cousin, as a matter of fact spent agreat part of his time at the palace also, dancing attendance upon hisRoman friends. Pratinas, indeed, was on hand, not really to distressthem, but to vex by the mere knowledge of his presence. Cornelia metthe Greek with a stony haughtiness that chilled all his professions ofdesire to serve her and to renew the acquaintance formed at Rome.Agias had discovered that Pratinas had advised Pothinus to keep hishands on the ladies, especially on Cornelia, because whichever side ofthe Roman factions won, there were those who would reward suitably anywho could deliver her over to them. From this Cornelia had to inferthat the defeat of the Caesarians meant her own enthralment to heruncle and Lucius Ahenobarbus. Such a contingency she would not admitas possible. She was simply rendered far more anxious. Pratinas hadgiven up seeking Drusus's life, it was clear; his interest in thematter had ended the very instant the chance to levy blackma
il onAhenobarbus had disappeared. Pratinas, in fact, Agias learned for her,was never weary ridiculing the Roman oligarchs, and professing hisdisgust with them; so Cornelia no longer had immediate cause to fearhim, though she hated him none the less.
After all, Pratinas thrust himself little upon her. He had his ownlife to live, and it ran far apart from hers. Perhaps it was as wellfor Cornelia that she was forced to spend the winter and ensuingmonths in the ample purlieus of the palace. If living were but thegratification of sensuous indolence, if existence were but luxuriousdozing and half-waking, then the palace of the Ptolemies were indeedan Elysium, with its soft-footed, silent, swift, intelligent Orientalservants; rooms where the eye grew weary of rare sculpture or fresco;books drawn from the greatest library in the world--the Museum closeat hand; a broad view of the blue Mediterranean, ever changing andever the same, and of the swarming harbour and the bustling city; andgardens upon gardens shut off from the outside by lofty walls--somegreat enclosures containing besides forests of rare trees a vastmenagerie of wild beasts, whose roarings from their cages made onethink the groves a tropical jungle; some gardens, dainty, secludedspots laid out in Egyptian fashion, under the shade of a few fine oldsycamores, with a vineyard and a stone trellis-work in the midst, witharbours and little parks of exotic plants, a palm or two, and a tankwhere the half-tame water-fowl would plash among the lotus and papyrusplants. In such a nook as this Cornelia would sit and read all the daylong, and put lotus flowers in her hair, look down into the water,and, Narcissus-like, fall in love with her own face, and tell herselfthat Drusus would be delighted that she had not grown ugly since heparted with her.
So passed the winter and the spring and early summer months; and,however hot and parched might be the city under the burning sun, therewas coolness and refreshment in the gardens of the palace.
With it all, however, Cornelia began to wax restive. It is no lightthing to command one's self to remain quiet in Sybaritic ease. Moreand more she began to wish that this butterfly existence, this passivebasking in the sun of indolent luxury, would come to an end. Shecommenced again to wish that she were a man, with the tongue of anorator, the sword of a soldier, able to sway senates and to leadlegions. Pothinus finally discovered that he was having somedifficulty in keeping his cage-bird contented. The eunuch hadentertained great expectations of being able to win credit and favourwith the conquerors among the Romans by delivering over Cornelia safeand sound either to Lentulus Crus or Quintus Drusus. Now he began tofear that Pratinas had advised him ill; that Cornelia and Fabia wereincapable of intriguing in Cleopatra's favour, and by his "protectionat the palace" he was only earning the enmity of his noble guests. Butit was too late to retrace his steps, and he accordingly pliedCornelia with so many additional attentions, presents, and obsequiousflatteries, that she grew heartily disgusted and repined even moreover her present situation.
Bad news came, which added to her discomfort. Caesar had been drivenfrom his lines at Dyrrachium. He had lost a great many men. If thePompeian sources of information were to be believed, he was now reallya negligible military factor, and the war was practically over. Thetidings fell on Cornelia's soul like lead. She knew perfectly wellthat the defeat of the Caesarians would mean the death of QuintusDrusus. Her uncle and the Domitii, father and son, would be allpowerful, and they never forgave an enmity. As for herself--but shedid not think much thereon; if Drusus was slain or executed, shereally had very little to live for, and there were many ways ofgetting out of the world. For the first time since the memorable nightof the raid on Baiae, she went about with an aching heart. Fabia, too,suffered, but, older and wiser, comforted Cornelia not so much by whatshe might say, by way of extending hopes, as by the warm, silentcontact of her pure, noble nature. Monime and Berenice were grievedthat their friends were so sad, and used a thousand gentle arts tocomfort them. Cornelia bore up more bravely because of thesympathy--she did not have to endure her burden alone, as at Rome andBaiae; but, nevertheless, for her the days crept slowly.
And then out of the gloom came the dazzling brightness. A Rhodianmerchantman came speeding into the haven with news. "Is Caesar taken?"cried the inquisitive crowd on the quay, as the vessel swung up to hermooring. "Is Pompeius not already here?" came back from the deck. Andin a twinkling it was all over the city: in the Serapeium, in theMuseum, under the colonnades, in the factories, in the palace."Pompeius's army has been destroyed. The Magnus barely escaped withhis life. Lucius Domitius is slain. Caesar is master of the world!"
Never did the notes of the great water-organ of the palace sound sosweet in any ears as these words in those of the Roman ladies. Theybore with complacency a piece of petty tyranny on the part ofPothinus, which at another time they would have found galling indeed.Report had it that Cleopatra had gathered an army in Syria, and theeunuch, with his royal puppet, was going forth to the frontier town ofPelusium, to head the forces that should resist the invasion. Corneliaand Fabia were informed that they would accompany the royal party onits progress to the frontier. Pothinus clearly was beginning to fearthe results of his "honourable entertainment," and did not care tohave his guests out of his sight. It was vexatious to be thus at hismercy; but Cornelia was too joyous in soul, at that time, to bear theindignity heavily. They had to part with Monime and Berenice, butAgias went with them; and Cornelia sent off another letter to Italy,in renewed hope that the seas would be clear and it would find its waysafely to Drusus.
Very luxurious was the progress of the royal party to Pelusium. Theking, his escort, and his unwilling guests travelled slowly by water,in magnificent river barges that were fitted with every requisite orornament that mind of man might ask or think. They crossed the LakeMareotis, glided along one of the minor outlets of the delta untilthey reached the Bolbitinic branch of the Nile, then, by canals andnatural water-courses, worked their way across to Bubastis, and thencestraight down the Pelusiac Nile to Pelusium. And thus it was Corneliacaught glimpses of that strange, un-Hellenized country that stretchedaway to the southward, tens and hundreds of miles, to Memphis and itspyramids, and Thebes and its temples--ancient, weird, wonderful; acivilization whereof everything was older than human thought mighttrace; a civilization that was almost like the stars, the sameyesterday, to-day, and forever. Almost would Cornelia have been gladif the prows of the barges had been turned up the river, and she beenenabled to behold with her own eyes the mighty piles of Cheops,Chephren, Mycerinus, Sesostris, Rhampsinitus, and a score of otherPharaohs whose deeds are recorded in stone imperishable. But thebarges glided again northward, and Cornelia only occasionally caughtsome glimpse of a massive temple, under whose huge propylons thepriests had chanted their litanies to Pakht or Ptah for two thousandyears, or passed some boat gliding with its mourners to thenecropolis, there to leave the mummy that was to await the judgment ofOsiris. And down the long valley swept the hot winds from the realm ofthe Pygmies, and from those strange lakes and mountains whence issuedthe boundless river, which was the life-giver and mother of all thefertile country of Egypt.
Thus with a glimpse, all too short, of the "Black Land,"[183] as itsnative denizens called it, the royal party reached the half-Hellenizedtown of Pelusium, where the army was in waiting and a most splendidcamp was ready for Ptolemaeus and his train. Cleopatra had not yetadvanced. The journey was over, and the novelty of the luxuriousquarters provided in the frontier fortress soon died away. Corneliacould only possess her soul in patience, and wonder how long it wouldbe before a letter could reach Italy, and the answer return. Where wasDrusus? Had aught befallen him in the great battle? Did he think ofher? And so, hour by hour, she repeated her questions--and waited.
[183] "Black" because of the black fertile mud deposited by the inundation.
II
Cleopatra's forces had not reached proportions sufficient for her torisk an engagement, when a little squadron appeared before Pelusiumbearing no less a person than Pompeius himself, who sent ashore todemand, on the strength of former services to the late King PtolemaeusAuletes,
a safe asylum, and assistance to make fresh head against theCaesarians. There was a hurried convening of the council of Pothinus--aselect company of eunuchs, amateur generals, intriguing rhetoricians.The conference was long; access to its debates closely guarded. Theissue could not be evaded; on the decision depended thereestablishment of the Pompeians in a new and firm stronghold, ortheir abandonment to further wanderings over the ocean. All Pelusiumrealized what was at stake, and the excitement ran high.
Cornelia beyond others was agitated by the report of the arrival ofthe Magnus. Rumour had it that Lucius Lentulus was close behind him.If the council of Pothinus voted to receive the fugitives, her ownposition would be unhappy indeed. For a time at least she would fallinto the power of her uncle and of Lucius Ahenobarbus. She was fullydetermined, if it was decided to harbour the Pompeians, to try toescape from the luxurious semi-captivity in which she was restrained.She could escape across the frontier to the camp of Cleopatra, whereshe knew a friendly welcome was in waiting. Agias, ever resourceful,ever anxious to anticipate the slightest wish on the part of the Romanladies, actually began to bethink himself of the ways and means for aflight. When finally it was announced in the camp and city thatPompeius was to be received as a guest of the king, Cornelia was onthe point of demanding of Agias immediate action toward escape.
"In a few days," were her words, "my uncle will be here; and I amundone, if not you also. There is not an hour to lose."
But Agias reasoned otherwise. If Pothinus and Achillas had reallyconsented to receive the Magnus, flight was indeed necessary. Agias,however, had grounds, he thought, for hesitancy. He knew thatAchillas, the head of the army, bitterly opposed the idea of lettingPompeius land; he knew, what was almost as much to the point, thatPratinas did not care to renew certain acquaintanceships contracted atRome. Therefore the young Hellene calmed Cornelia's fears, and waitedas best he might.
The council had convened early in the day; the herald went through thesquares of Pelusium announcing that Ptolemaeus, "Son of Ra," wouldreceive as his guest the Roman suppliant. The shore fronting theanchorage was covered with the files of the royal army in full array.Several Egyptian men-of-war had been drawn down into the water andtheir crews were hastening on board. Out in the haven rode the littlefleet of the Pompeians. Agias had heard the proclamation, and hurrieddown to the mole to bear the earliest definite information to hismistress. Presently, out of the throng of officers and court magnateson the quay, stepped Achillas in a splendid panoply of gilded armour,with a purple chiton flowing down from beneath. Beside him, with thefirm swinging step of the Roman legionary, strode two other officersin magnificent armour, whom Agias at once recognized as LuciusSeptimius, a Roman tribune now in Egyptian service, and a certainSalvius, who had once been a centurion of the Republic. The threeadvanced on to the quay and stood for a moment at a loss. Agias, whowas quite near, could hear their conversation.
"The yacht is not ready for us."
"We cannot delay a moment."
There was a large open boat moored to the quay, a fisher man's craft.In a moment a few subalterns had taken possession of it and there wasa call for rowers. Agias, who, like all his race, never declined achance "to see or hear some new thing," took his seat on one of thebenches, and soon the craft shot away from the mole with the threeofficers in its stern.
It was a short pull to the Pompeian ships; Agias, as he glanced overhis shoulder thought he could see a motion on board the vessels as ifto sheer away from the boat; but in a moment the little craft wasalongside, under the lee of the flagship.
"Where is Pompeius Magnus?" cried Achillas, rising from his seat; "weare sent to carry him to the king."
A martial, commanding figure was seen peering over the side,--a figurethat every inhabitant of Rome knew right well.
"I am he; but why do you come thus meanly with only a fisher's boat?Is this honourable, is this worthy of a great king's guest?"
"Assuredly, kyrios," began Achillas, "we are forced to come in thissmall craft, because the water is too shallow for larger ships toapproach the shore."
Agias knew that this was a lie; he was very certain that he was aboutto be witness to a deed of the darkest treachery. A vague feeling ofshrinking and horror froze his limbs, and made his tongue swell in hismouth. Yet he was perfectly powerless to warn; a sign or a word wouldhave meant his instant death.
"_Salve_, Imperator!" shouted Septimius in Latin, rising in turn."Don't you remember the campaign I had with you against the pirates?"
The fugitive general's care-worn face lighted up at the recognition ofan old officer.
"_Eu!_" he answered, "I shall not want for good friends, I see! Howglad I shall be to grasp your hands! But is not this a very smallboat? I see men going on board the galleys by the shore."
"You shall be satisfied in a moment, kyrios," repeated Achillas, withsuave assurance, "that the quicksands by the mole are very dangerousto large vessels. Will you do us the honour to come aboard?"
Agias felt as though he must howl, scream, spring into the sea--doanything to break the horrible suspense that oppressed him.
A woman was taking leave of Pompeius on the deck, a tall, stately,patrician lady, with a sweet, trouble-worn face; Agias knew that shewas Cornelia Scipionis. She was adjuring her husband not to go ashore,and he was replying that it was impossible to refuse; that if theEgyptians meant evil, they could easily master all the fugitives withtheir armament. Several of the Magnus's servants came down into theboat--couple of trusted centurions, a valued freedman called Philip, aslave named Scythes. Finally Pompeius tore himself from his wife'sarms.
"Do not grieve, all will be well!" were his words, while the boat'screw put out their hands to receive him; and he added, "We must makethe best choice of evils. I am no longer my own master. RememberSophocles's iambics,
"He that once enters at a tyrant's door Becomes a slave, though he were free before.'"
The general seated himself on the stern seat between the Egyptianofficers. Agias bent to his oar in sheer relief at finding some way inwhich to vent his feelings; and tugged at the heavy paddle until itstough blade bent almost to cracking. The silence on the part of theofficers was ominous. Not a word, not a hint of recognition, came fromAchillas or his Italian associates, from the instant that Pompeius setfoot in the boat. The stillness became awkward. The Magnus, flushedand embarrassed, turned to Septimius. "I was not mistaken inunderstanding that you were my fellow-soldier in years past?" Hisanswer was a surly nod. Pompeius, however, reined his rising feelings,and took up and began to re-read some tablets on which he had writtenan address in Greek, to be delivered before the king. Agias rowed onwith the energy of helpless desperation. They were very close to thequay. A company of the royal body-guard in gala armour stood as ifawaiting the distinguished visitor. For a moment the young Hellenebelieved that Achillas was sincere in his errand.
The boat drew up to the landing; one or two of the rowers sprang tothe dock and made her fast. Agias was unshipping his oar. His thoughtwas that he must now contrive the escape of Cornelia. Pompeius halfrose from his seat; the boat was pitching in the choppy harbour swell;the general steadied himself by grasping the hands of Philip thefreedman. Suddenly, like the swoop of a hawk on its prey, Agias sawthe right hand of Septimius tear his short sword from its sheath. Ascream broke from the Hellene's lips; before the Magnus could turn hishead, the blow was struck. Pompeius received the blade full in theback, and staggered, while Salvius and Achillas likewise drew andthrust at him. Agias gazed on, paralyzed with horror. The generalseized his red paludamentum, threw it over his face, groaned once, andfell. Even as he did so Septimius struck him across the neck,decapitating the corpse. The brutal boatmen tore the blood-soakedclothes off of the body, and flung it overboard, to drift ashore withthe current. And so it ended with Pompeius Magnus, Imperator, theFortunate, the favourite general of Sulla, the chieftain of "godlikeand incredible virtue," the conquerer of the kingdoms of the East,thrice consul, thrice triumphator, joint ruler with Caesar
of thecivilized world!
Agias hastened back to Cornelia to tell her that the danger was past,that there was no need of a flight to Cleopatra; but he was sick atheart when he thought of the treachery in which he had shared, albeitso unwillingly.
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