The Death of the Gods
Page 43
XIX
The Emperor was carried into his tent, and laid on his camp-bed. Stillin a swoon, he groaned from time to time. Oribazius, the physician,drew out the iron lance-head, and washed and bound up the deep wound.By a look Victor asked if any hope remained, and Oribazius sadly shookhis head. After the dressing of the wound Julian sighed and opened hiseyes.
"Where am I?" he asked in surprise with a glance round. Then hearingthe distant noise of battle he remembered all, and with an effort roseupon his bed.
"Why have they brought me here? Where is my horse? Quick, Victor!"
Suddenly his face writhed with pain, friends hastened to support him,but he thrust back Victor and Oribazius.
"Permit me! I must be with them to the end."
His soul was struggling against death. Slowly, with infinitedifficulty, he tottered to his feet, a faint smile playing on hislips, and the old fire in his eyes.
"You see, I am able-bodied still ... quick! give me my sword, buckler,horse!"
Victor gave him the shield and sword. Julian took them and made a fewunsteady steps, like a child learning to walk. The wound re-opened; helet fall his arms, sank into the arms of Oribazius and Victor andlooking up cried contemptuously--
"All is over! Thou hast conquered, Galilean!"
And making no further resistance, he gave himself up to his friends,and was laid on the bed.
"Yes, yes," he repeated softly, "I am dying."
Oribazius leaned towards him, consoling him, assuring him that thewound would heal.
"Why deceive me?" answered Julian; "I am not afraid...." Then he addedgravely, "I hope I shall die the death of the righteous."
In the evening he lost consciousness. Hour after hour went by. The sunwent down. Fighting ceased. A lamp was lighted in the tent, and nightslowly descended.
Julian did not recover consciousness. His breathing grew weaker; hewas thought to be breathing his last. But later his eyes opened,little by little; his look was fixed steadily on a corner of the tent.A rapid whisper broke from his lips: he was in delirium.
"Thou, here, why?... what matters it? All is over. Canst Thou not seethat?... Go. Thou hatedst laughter.... And so we can never forgiveThee...."
Then, regaining his faculties, he asked of Oribazius--
"What hour is it? Shall I see the sun?"
And he added dreamily--
"Oribazius, can it be possible that reason should be really sopowerless? I believe it is a weakness of the body ... blood fills thebrain, creating phantoms.... One must conquer ... reason must...."
His ideas anew became confused, and his gaze resumed its fixity--
"I will not! Do you hear?... Go, Tempter! I do not believe! Socratesdied like a god. Reason ... Victor, ah, Victor!... what do you wantfrom me? Thou, the unappeasable, the implacable? Thy love is moreterrible than death.... Thy burden is the heaviest of all.... Why dostthou look at me so? How much I have loved thee, Good Shepherd! ...Only Thou? No, no! The pierced feet, blood? ... The death of Hellas... darkness?... I want sunlight, the golden sun ... on the Parthenonmarble!... Wouldst thou veil the sun?..."
It was one o'clock in the morning. The legions had returned to camp,with no exultation over their victory. In spite of fatigue, scarcelyany slept, all waiting for news from the Imperial tent. Many stoodsleeping, leaning on their lances round the half-extinguishedcamp-fires; and the breathing of picketed horses could be heard,munching captured forage of corn.
Between the dark rows of tents, faint white lines showed on thehorizon. Stars became yet more chilly and pale. The mists keptspreading, and the steel of lances and shields was clouded with dew.Here and there crew a cock, belonging to the Tuscan soothsayers. Acalm sadness hovered over heaven and earth. The scene was illusive asa mirror; the near seemed far off and the distant came near.
At the entrance to Julian's tent stood a throng of generals, friends,and familiar companions, all looking like phantoms in the mistytwilight. Still deeper silence reigned within the tent. Oribazius, thephysician, was pounding simples in a mortar to make a refreshingdrink. The sick man lay calm, and the delirium had left him. At dawn,collecting himself, he asked impatiently--
"When will the sun rise?"
"In an hour," answered Oribazius glancing at the clepsydra.
"Call the generals," ordered Julian. "I must speak...."
"Well-beloved Caesar, it may be hurtful...."
"What matter! I shall not die before the sun rises. Victor, raise myhead."
He was told about the victory over the Persians, the flight of theenemy's cavalry, and of the two sons of Sapor the king; of the deathof fifty satraps. Julian showed neither astonishment nor gladness. Heremained indifferent.
Dagalaif, Hormizdas, Ariphas, Lucilian, and Sallustius came in, headedby the general Jovian. Many, with an eye to the future, had wished tosee on the throne this weak and timid man, who could be dangerous tonone. It was their hope under his rule to recover from the anxietiesof the tumultuous reign of Julian. Jovian possessed the art ofpleasing all. Tall and handsome in person, he in no way differed fromthe crowd, aiming at all-round benevolence. Among the intimate friendsstood also a young centurion of the Imperial horse, the future famoushistorian, Ammianus Marcellinus. Everyone was aware that he waswriting an account of the campaign, and amassing documents for a greathistorical work. Stooping under the tent-door Ammianus drew outtablets and stylus. A keen and impartial curiosity animated his sternface; and with the coolness of an artist or a man of science heprepared to take notes of the speech of the dying Emperor.
"Lift the curtain!" Julian ordered.
It was raised, and everyone stood aside so that the fresh air of themorning might blow on the face of the dying. The door faced east, andthe view to the horizon was unbroken.
"Now put the lamp out."
The order was executed, and the tent filled with twilight. Everybodystood waiting in silence.
"Listen, friends," Julian began; his voice was low but clear, hiswhole presence breathed a triumph of mind over body, and invinciblewill still gleamed from those eyes. The hand of Ammianus trembled, buthe wrote down the words uttered. He knew that he was writing on thetables of history, and transmitting to men unborn the last words of agreat man.
"Listen, friends; my hour is come, perhaps too soon. But you see, likean honest debtor, I am not sorry to give back my life to Nature, andin my soul is neither pain nor fear; nothing but cheerfulness, and afore-feeling of the long repose. I have simply done my duty, and havenothing to repent of. From the days when I daily expected death, likea hunted beast, in the palace of Macellum, in Cappadocia, up to theday of greatness when I took on the purple of the Roman Caesar, I havetried to keep my soul stainless, I have aspired to ends not ignoble.If I have failed--and I have failed--to do all that I desired, youwill not forget that most of our earthly affairs are in the hands ofDestiny. And now I thank the Eternal for having allowed me to dieneither after long sickness nor at the hands of the executioner, buton the battlefield--in mid-youth--in mid-endeavour, half-way toachievement.... And dear, dear friends...."
His voice ceased; everyone present knelt down; many were weeping.
"No, no, my dear friends," said Julian smiling; "why weep for thosewho are going back to their own country? Take heart, Victor!"
The old man tried to answer, but in vain; then hiding his face in hishands, he sobbed aloud.
"Soft! Soft!" cried Julian; and then turning toward the sky: "Ah,there He is!"
The morning clouds were growing rosy, and the twilight in the tent hadbecome warm and mellow; the first beam of the sun washed over the rimof the horizon. The dying man held his face towards the light, withclosed eyes.
Then Sallustius Secundus went up to Julian and kissing his hand said--
"Well-beloved Augustus! whom do you name as your successor?"
"What matters it? Let Destiny decide! We must not resist her. Let theGalileans triumph. We shall conquer later on. And then shall begin onearth the reign of the equals of the gods
, souls laughing for everlike the sun.... Look, behold him!"
A faint shiver ran through his body, and with a last effort Julianstretched out his arms, as if he would have rushed to meet the risingorb. Blood gushed from his wound, and the veins swelled on neck andtemples.
"Water! water!" he whispered, choking.
Victor lifted a golden cup of spring-water to his mouth. Julian,looking forth from the tent drank thirstily of the ice-cold draught.Then his head fell back, and the last murmur came from his half-openlips--
"Helios! receive me into thyself...."
The eyes went out. Victor closed their lids. The face of the Emperor,lying in the sun-rays, took on a look of one of the Olympianssleeping.