CHAPTER XIII.
During these hours of rest Iras and Charmian had watched in turnbeside Cleopatra. When she rose, the younger attendant rendered her thenecessary services. She was to devote herself to her mistress until theevening; for her companion, who now stood in her way, was not to returnearlier. Before Charmian left, she had seen that her apartments--inwhich Barine, since the Queen had placed her in her charge, had been awelcome guest--were carefully watched. The commander of the Macedonianguard, who years before had vainly sought her favour, and finally hadbecome the most loyal of her friends, had promised to keep them closely.
Yet Iras knew how to profit by her mistress's sleep and the absence ofher aunt. She had learned that she would be shut out of her apartments,and therefore from Barine also. Ere any step could be taken againstthe prisoner, she must first arrange the necessary preliminaries withAlexas. The failure of her expectation of seeing her rival trampled inthe dust had transformed her jealous resentment into hatred, and thoughshe was her niece, she even transferred a portion of it to Charmian, whohad placed herself between her and her victim.
She had sent for the Syrian, but he, too, had gone to rest at a latehour and kept her waiting a long time. The reception which the impatientgirl bestowed was therefore by no means cordial, but her manner soongrew more friendly.
First Alexas boasted of having induced the Queen to commit Barine'sfate to him. If he should try her at noon and find her guilty, there wasnothing to prevent him from compelling her to drink the poisoned cup orhaving her strangled before evening. But the matter would be dangerous,because the singer's friends were numerous and by no means powerless.Yet, in the depths of her heart, Cleopatra desired nothing more ardentlythan to rid herself of her dangerous rival. But he knew the great onesof the earth. If he acted energetically and brought matters to a speedyclose, the Queen, to avoid evil gossip, would burden him with her ownact. Antony's mood could not be predicted, and the Syrian's weal or woedepended on his favour. Besides, the execution of the singer at thelast Adonis festival might have a dangerous effect upon the people ofAlexandria. They were already greatly excited, and his brother, who knewthem, said that some were overwhelmed with sorrow, and others ready, intheir fury, to rise in a bloody rebellion. Everything was to be fearedfrom this rabble, but Philostratus understood how to persuade them tomany things, and Alexas had just secured his aid.
Alexas had really succeeded in the work of reconciliation. During theorator's married life with Barine she had forbidden her brother-in-lawthe house, and her husband had quarrelled with the brother who soughthis wife. But after the latter had risen to a high place in Antony'sfavour, and been loaded with gold by his lavish hand, Philostratushad again approached him to claim his share of the new wealth. And thesource from which Alexas drew flowed so abundantly that his favouritedid not find it difficult to give. Both men were as unprincipled as theywere lavish, and experience taught them that base natures always have attheir disposal a plank with which to bridge chasms. If it is of gold, itwill be crossed the more speedily. Such was the case here, and of lateit had become specially firm; for each needed the other's aid.
Alexas loved Barine, while Philostratus no longer cared for her. On theother hand, he hated Dion with so ardent a thirst for revenge that,to obtain it, he would have resigned even the hope of fresh gains. Thehumiliation inflicted upon him by the arrogant Macedonian noble, and thederision which through his efforts had been heaped upon him, haunted himlike importunate pursuers; and he felt that he could only rid himselfof them with the source of his disgrace. Without his brother's aid, hewould have been content to assail Dion with his slandering tongue; withhis powerful assistance he could inflict a heavier injury upon him,perhaps even rob him of liberty and life. They had just made anagreement by which Philostratus pledged himself to reconcile thepopulace to any punishment that might be inflicted upon Barine, andAlexas promised to help his brother take a bloody vengeance upon Dionthe Macedonian.
Barine's death could be of no service to Alexas. The sight of her beautyhad fired his heart a second time, and he was resolved to make her hisown. In the dungeon, perhaps by torture, she should be forced to grasphis helping hand. All this would permit no delay. Everything must bedone before the return of Antony, who was daily expected. Alexas'slavish patron had made him so rich that he could bear to lose hisfavour for the sake of this object. Even without it, he could maintain ahousehold with royal magnificence in some city of his Syrian home.
On receiving the favourite's assurance that he would remove Barine fromCharmian's protection on the morrow, Iras became more gracious. Shecould make no serious objection to his statement that the new trialmight not, it is true, end in a sentence of death, but the verdict wouldprobably be transportation to the mines, or something of the sort.
Then Alexas cautiously tested Iras's feelings towards his brother'smortal foe. They were hostile; yet when the favourite intimated thathe, too, ought to be given up to justice, she showed so much hesitation,that Alexas stopped abruptly and turned the conversation upon Barine.Here she promised assistance with her former eager zeal, and it wassettled that the arrest should be made the following morning during thehours of Charmian's attendance upon the Queen.
Iras had valuable counsel to offer. She was familiar with one of theprisons, whose doors she had opened to many a hapless mortal whosedisappearance, in her opinion, might be of service to the Queen. Shehad deemed it a duty, aided by the Keeper of the Seal, to anticipate hermistress in cases where her kind heart would have found it difficultto pronounce a severe sentence, and Cleopatra had permitted it, thoughwithout commendation or praise. What happened within its walls--thanksto the silence of the warder--never passed beyond the portals. If Barinecursed her life there, she would still fare better than she, Iras, whoduring the past few nights had been on the brink of despair whenevershe thought of the man who had disdained her love and abandoned her foranother.
As the Syrian held out his hand to take leave, she asked bluntly
"And Dion?"
"He cannot be set free," was the reply, "for he loves Barine; nay, thefool was on the eve of leading her home to his beautiful palace as itsmistress."
"Is that true, really true?" asked Iras, whose cheeks and lipslost every tinge of colour, though she succeeded in maintaining hercomposure.
"He confessed it yesterday in a letter to his uncle, the Keeper of theSeal, in which he entreated him to do his utmost for his chosen bride,whom he would never resign. But Zeno has no liking for this niece. Doyou wish to see the letter?"
"Then, of course, he cannot be set at liberty," replied Iras, and therewas additional shrillness in her voice. "He will do everything in hispower for the woman he loves, and that is much--far more than you, whoare half a stranger here, suspect. The Macedonian families stand byeach other. He is a member of the council. The bands of the Ephebi willsupport him to a man. And the populace?--He lately spoiled the game ofyour brother, who was acting for me, in a way. He was finally draggedout of the basin of the fountain, dripping with water and overwhelmedwith shame."
"For that very reason his mouth must be closed."
Iras nodded assent, but after a short pause she exclaimed angrily: "Iwill help you to silence him, but not forever. Do you hear? Theodotus'ssaying about the dead dogs which do not bite brought no blessing to anyone who followed it. There are other ways of getting rid of this man."
"A bird sang that you were not unfriendly to him."
"A bird? Then it was probably an owl, which cannot see in the daylight.His worst enemy, your brother, would probably sacrifice himself for hiswelfare sooner than I."
"Then I shall begin to feel sympathy for this Dion."
"I saw recently that your compassion surpassed mine. Death is not thehardest punishment."
"Is that the cause of this gracious respite?"
"Perhaps so. But there are other matters to be considered here. First,the condition of the times. Everything is tottering, even the royalpower, which a short time ago was
a wall which concealed many things andafforded shelter from every assault. Then Dion himself. I have alreadynumbered those who will support him. Since the defeat at Actium, theQueen can no longer exclaim to that many-headed monster, the people,'You must,' but 'I entreat.' The others--"
"The first considerations are enough; but may I be permitted to knowwhat my wise friend has awarded to the hapless wight from whom shewithdrew her favour?"
"First, imprisonment here at Lochias. He has stained his hands with theblood of Caesarion, the King of kings. That is high treason, even inthe eyes of the people. Try to obtain the order for the arrest this veryday."
"Whenever I can disturb the Queen with such matters."
"Not for nay sake, but to save her from injury. Away with everythingwhich can cloud her intellect in these decisive days! First, away withBarine, who spoiled her return home; and then let us take care ofthe man who would be capable, for this woman's sake, of causing aninsurrection in Alexandria. The great cares associated with the stateand the throne are hers; for the minor ones of the toilet and the heartI will provide."
Here she was interrupted by one of Cleopatra's waiting-maids. The Queenhad awakened, and Iras hastened to her post.
As she passed Charmian's apartments and saw two handsome soldiers,belonging to the Macedonian body-guard, pacing to and fro on duty beforethem, her face darkened. It was against her alone that Charmian wasprotecting Barine. She had been harshly reproved by the older woman onaccount of the artist's daughter, who had been the source of so manyincidents which had caused her pain, and Iras regretted that she hadever confided to her aunt her love for Dion. But, no matter what mighthappen, the upas-tree whence emanated all these tortures, anxieties, andvexations, must be rooted out--stricken from the ranks of the living.
Ere she entered the Queen's anteroom she had mentally pronouncedsentence of death on her enemy. Her inventive brain was now busy indevising means to induce the Syrian to undertake its execution. Ifthis stone of offence was removed it would again be possible to livein harmony with Charmian. Dion would be free, and then, much as he hadwounded her, she would defend him from the hatred of Philostratus andhis brother.
She entered the Queen's presence with a lighter heart. The death ofa condemned person had long since ceased to move her deeply. Whilerendering the first services to her mistress, who had been muchrefreshed by her sleep, her face grew brighter and brighter; forCleopatra voluntarily told her that she was glad to have her attendance,and not be constantly annoyed by the same disagreeable matter, whichmust soon be settled.
In fact, Charmian, conscious that no one else at court would haveventured to do so, had never grown weary, spite of many a rebuff, ofpleading Barine's cause until, the day before, Cleopatra, in a suddenfit of anger, had commanded her not to mention the mischief-maker again.
When Charmian soon after requested permission to let Iras take her placethe following day, the Queen already regretted the harsh reproof shehad given her friend, and, while cordially granting the desired leave,begged her to attribute her angry impatience to the cares whichburdened her. "And when you show me your kind, faithful face again," sheconcluded, "you will have remembered that a true friend withholds froman unhappy woman whom she loves whatever will shadow more deeply heralready clouded life. This Barine's very name sounds like a jeer at thecomposure I maintain with so much difficulty. I do not wish to hear itagain."
The words were uttered in a tone so affectionate and winning, thatCharmian's vexation melted like ice in the sun. Yet she left the Queen'spresence anxious and troubled; for ere she quitted the room Cleopatraremarked that she had committed the singer's affairs to Alexas. Shewas now doubly eager to obtain a day's freedom, for she knew theunprincipled favourite's feelings towards the young beauty, and longedto discuss with Archibius the best means of guarding her from the worstperils.
When at a late hour she went to rest, she was served by the Nubian maid,who had accompanied her to the court from her parents' home. She camefrom the Cataract, where she had been bought when the family of Alypiusaccompanied the child Cleopatra to the island of Philae. Anukis wasgiven to Charmian, who at the time was just entering womanhood, as thefirst servant who was her sole property, and she had proved so clever,skilful, apt to learn, and faithful, that her mistress took her, as herpersonal attendant, to the palace.
Charmian's warm, unselfish love for the Queen was equalled by Anukis'sdevotion to the mistress who had long since made her free, and hadbecome so strongly attached to her that the Nubian's interests werelittle less regarded than her own. Her sound, keen judgment and naturalwit had gained a certain renown in the palace, and as Cleopatra oftencondescended to rouse her to an apt answer, Antony had done so, too; andsince the slight crook in the back, which she had from childhood, hadgrown into a hump, he gave her the name of Aisopion--the female AEsop.All the Queen's attendants now used it, and though others of lower rankdid the same, she permitted it, though her ready wit would have suppliedher tongue with a retort sharp enough to respond to any word whichdispleased her.
But she knew the life and fables of AEsop, who had also once been aslave, and deemed it an honour to be compared with him.
When Charmian had left Cleopatra and sought her chamber, she foundBarine sound asleep, but Anukis was awaiting her, and her mistress toldher with what deep anxiety for Barine she had quitted the presence ofthe Queen. She knew that the Nubian was fond of the young matron, whomin her childhood she had carried in her arms, and whose father, Leonax,had often jested with her. The maid had watched her career with muchinterest, and while Barine had been her mistress's guest her efforts toamuse and soothe her were unceasing.
She had gone every morning to Berenike to ask tidings of Dion's health,and always brought favourable news. Anukis knew Philostratus and hisbrother, too, and as she liked Antony, who jested with her so kindly,she grieved to see an unprincipled fellow like Alexas his chiefconfidant. She knew the plots with which the Syrian had persecutedBarine, and when Charmian told her that the Queen had committed theyoung beauty's fate to this man's keeping her dark face grew fairlylivid; but she forced herself to conceal the terror which the newsinspired. Her mistress was also aware what this choice meant to Barine.But Anukis would have thought it wrong to disturb Charmian's sleep byrevealing her own distress. It was fortunate that she was going earlythe next morning to seek the aid of Archibius, whom Anukis believed tobe the wisest of men; but this by no means soothed her. She knew thefable of the lion and the mouse, which had been told in her home longbefore the time of the author for whom she was nicknamed, and alreadymore than once she had been in a position to render far greater and morepowerful persons an important service. To soothe Charmian to sleep andturn her thoughts in another direction, she told her about Dion, whomshe had found much better that day, how tenderly he seemed to loveBarine, and how touchingly patient and worthy of her father the daughterof Leonax had been.
After her mistress had fallen asleep she went to the hall where, spiteof the late hour, she expected to meet some of the servants--sure ofbeing greeted as a welcome guest. When, a short time later, Alexas'sbody-slave appeared, she filled his wire cup, sat down by his side, andtried with all the powers at her command to win his confidence. Andso well did the elderly Nubian succeed that Marsyas, a handsome youngLigurian, after she had gone, declared that Aisopion's jokes and storieswere enough to bring the dead to life, and it was as pleasant to talkseriously with the brown-skinned monster as to dally with a fair-hairedsweetheart.
After Charmian had left the palace the following morning, Anukis againsought Marsyas and learned from him for what purpose and at what hourIras had summoned Alexas. His master was continually whispering with thelanguishing Macedonian.
When Anukis returned, Barine seemed troubled because she brought notidings from her mother and Dion; but the Nubian entreated her to havepatience, and gave her some books and a spindle, that she might haveoccupation in her solitude. She, Anukis, must go to the kitchen, becauseshe had heard yesterday that the cook
had bought some mushrooms, whichmight be poisonous; she knew the fungi and wanted to see them.
Then, passing into Charmian's chamber, she glided through the corridorwhich connected the apartments of Cleopatra's confidential attendants,and slipped into Iras's room. When Alexas entered she wasconcealed behind one of the hangings which covered the walls of thereception-room.
After the Syrian had retired and Iras had been called away, Anukisreturned to Barine and said that the mushrooms had really beenpoisonous, and of the deadliest species. They had been cooked, and shemust go out to seek an antidote. Since a precious human life might be atstake, Barine would not wish to keep her.
"Go," said the latter, kindly. "But if you are the old obligingAisopion, you won't object to going a little farther."
"And inquiring at the house near the Paneum garden," added Anukis. "Thatwas already settled. Longing is also a poison for a loving heart, andits antidote is good news."
With these laughing words she left her favourite; but as soon as she wasout of doors her black brow became lined with earnest thought, and shestood pondering a long time. At last she went to the Bruchium to hirea donkey to ride to Kanopus, where she hoped to find Archibius. It wasdifficult to reach the nearest stand; for a great crowd had assembled onthe quay between the Lochias and the Corner of the Muses, and groups ofthe common people, sailors, and slaves were constantly flocking hither.But she at last forced her way to the spot and, while the driver washelping her to mount the animal she had chosen, she asked what hadattracted the throng, and he answered:
"They are tearing down the house of the old Museum fungus, Didymus."
"How can that be?" cried the startled woman. "The good old man!"
"Good?" repeated the driver, scornfully. "He's a traitor, who has causedall the trouble. Philostratus, the brother of the great Alexas, a friendof Mark Antony, told us so. He wanted to prove it, so it must betrue. Hear the shouts, and how the stones are flying! Yes, yes. Hisgranddaughter and her lover set an ambush for the King Caesarion. Theywould have killed him, but the watch interfered, and now he lies woundedon his couch. If mighty Isis does not lend her aid, the young prince'slife will soon be over."
Then, turning to the donkey, he dealt him two severe blows on the rightand left haunches, shouting: "Hi, Grey! It does one good to hear thatroyal backs have room for the cudgel too."
Meanwhile, the Nubian was hesitating whether she should not first turnthe donkey to the right and seek Didymus; but Barine was threatened bygreater peril, and her life was of more value than the welfare of theaged pair. This decided the question, and she rode forward.
The donkey and his driver did their best, but they came too late; forin the little palace at Kanopus, Anukis learned from the porter thatArchibius had gone to the city with his old friend Timagenes, thehistorian, who lived in Rome, and seemed to have come to Alexandria asan envoy.
Charmian, too, had been here, but also failed to find the master of thehouse, and followed him. Evil tidings-which, owing to the loss of timeinvolved, might prove fatal. If the donkey had only been swifter! True,Archibius's stable was full of fine animals, but who was she that sheshould presume to use them? Yet she had gained something whichrendered her the equal of many who were born free and occupied a higherstation--the reputation for trustworthiness and wisdom; and relying uponthis, she told the faithful old steward, as far as possible, what was atstake, and soon after he himself took her, both mounted on swift mules,to the city and the Paneum garden.
He chose the nearest road thither through the Gate of the Sun and theKanopic Way. Usually at this hour it was crowded with people, but to-dayfew persons were astir. All the idlers had thronged to the Bruchium andthe harbour to see the returning ships of the vanquished fleet, hearsomething new, witness the demonstrations of joy, the sacrifices andprocessions, and--if Fortune favoured--meet the Queen and relieve theiroverflowing hearts by acclamations.
When the carriage turned towards the left and approached the Paneum,progress for the first time became difficult. A dense crowd had gatheredaround the hill on whose summit the sanctuary of Pan dominated thespacious garden. Anukis's eye perceived the tall figure of Philostratus.Was the mischief-maker everywhere? This time he seemed to encounteropposition, for loud shouts interrupted his words. Just as the carriagepassed he pointed to the row of houses in which the widow of Leonaxlived, but violent resistance followed the gesture.
Anukis perceived what restrained the crowd; for, as the equipageapproached its destination, a body of armed youths stopped it. Theirfinely-formed limbs, steeled by the training of the Palaestra, and theraven, chestnut, and golden locks floating around their well-shapedheads, were indeed beautiful. They were a band of the Ephebi, formerlycommanded by Archibius, and to whose leadership more recently Dion hadbeen elected. The youths had heard what had occurred--that imprisonment,perhaps even worse disaster, threatened him. At any other time it wouldscarcely have been possible to oppose the decree of the Government andguard their imperilled friend, but in these dark days the rulers mustdeal with them. Though they were loyal to the Queen, and had resolved,spite of her defeat, to support her cause, as soon as she needed them,they would not suffer Dion to be punished for a crime which, in theireyes, was an honour. Their determination to protect him grew more eagerwith every vexatious delay on the part of the city council to deal witha matter which concerned one of their own body. They had not yet decidedwhether to demand a full pardon or only a mild sentence for the man whohad wounded the "King of kings," the son of the sovereign. Moreover, thequiet Caesarion, still subject to his tutor, had not understood howto win the favour of the Ephebi. The weakling never appeared in thePalaestra, which even the great Mark Antony did not disdain to visit.The latter had more than once given the youths assembled there proofsof his giant strength, and his son Antyllus also frequently shared theirexercises. Dion had merely dealt Caesarion with his clenched fist one ofthe blows which every one must encounter in the arena.
Philotas of Amphissa, the pupil of Didymus, had been the first to informthem of the attack and, with fiery zeal, had used his utmost power toatone for the wrong done to his master's granddaughter. His appeal hadroused the most eager sympathy. The Ephebi believed themselves strongenough to defend their friend against any one and, if the worst shouldcome, they knew they would be sustained by the council, the Exegetus,the captain of the guard--a brave Macedonian, who had once been anornament of their own band--and the numerous clients of Dion and hisfamily. There was not a single weakling among them. They had alreadyfound an opportunity to prove this; for, though they had arrived toolate to protect Didymus's property from injury, they had checked thefury of the mob whose passions Philostratus had aroused, and forced backthe crowd whom the Syrian led to Barine's dwelling to devote it to thesame fate.
Another equipage was already standing before the door of Berenike'shouse--one of the carriages which were always at the disposal of theQueen's officials--when Anukis left Archibius's vehicle. Had some ofAlexas's myrmidons arrived, or was he himself on the way to examineDion, or even arrest him? The driver, like all the palace servants,knew Anukis, and she learned from him that he had brought Gorgias, thearchitect.
Anukis had never met the latter, though, during the rebuilding ofCaesarion's apartments, she had often seen him, and heard much of him;among other things, that Dion's beautiful palace was his work. He was afriend of the wounded man, so she need not fear him.
When she entered the atrium she heard that Berenike had gone out todrive with Archibius and his Roman friend. The leech had forbidden hispatient to see many visitors. No one had been admitted except Gorgiasand one of Dion's freedmen.
But time pressed; people of the same rank and disposition understandone another; the old porter and the Nubian were both loyal to theiremployers, and, moreover, were natives of the same country; so itrequired only a few words to persuade the door-keeper to conduct herwithout delay to the bedside of the wounded man.
The freedman, a tall, weather-beaten greybeard, simply cla
d, who lookedlike a pilot, was waiting outside the sick-room. He had not yet beenadmitted to Dion's presence, but this did not appear to vex him, for hestood leaning quietly against the wall beside the door, gazing at thebroad-brimmed sailor's hat which he was slowly turning in his hands.
Scarcely had Dion heard Anukis's name, when an eager "Let her come in"reached her ears through the half-open door.
The Nubian waited to be summoned, but her dark face must have showeddistinctly that something important and urgent had brought her here, forthe wounded man added to his first words of greeting the expression of afear that she had no good news.
Her reply was an eager nod of assent, accompanied by a doubtful glanceat Gorgias; and Dion now curtly told the architect the name of thenewcomer, and assured her that his friend might hear everything, eventhe greatest secret.
Anukis uttered a sigh of relief and then, in a tone of the most earnestwarning, poured forth the story of the impending danger. She would notbe satisfied when he spoke of the Ephebi, who were ready to defend him,and the council, which would make the cause of one of its members itsown, but entreated him to seek some safe place of refuge, no matterwhere; for powers against whom no resistance would avail were stretchingtheir hands towards him. Even this statement, however, proved useless,for Dion was convinced that the influence of his uncle, the Keeper ofthe Seal, would guard him from any serious danger. Then Anukis resolvedto confess what she had overheard; but she told the story withoutmentioning Barine, and the peril threatening her also. Finally, withall the warmth of a really anxious heart, she entreated him to heed herwarning.
Even while she was still speaking, the friends exchanged significantglances; but scarcely had the last words fallen from her lips when thegiant figure of the freedman passed through the door, which had remainedopen.
"You here, Pyrrhus?" cried the wounded man kindly.
"Yes, master, it is I," replied the stalwart fellow, twirling his sailorhat still faster. "Listening isn't exactly my trade, and I don't usuallyenter your presence uninvited; but I couldn't help hearing what camethrough the door, and the croaking of the old raven drew me in."
"I wish you had heard more cheerful things," replied Dion; "but thebrown-skinned bird of ill omen usually sings pleasant songs, and theyall come from a faithful heart. But when my silent Pyrrhus opens hismouth so far, something important must surely follow, and you can speakfreely in her presence."
The sailor cleared his throat, gripped his coarse felt hat in his sinewyhands, and said, in such a tremulous, embarrassed tone that his heavychin quivered and his voice sometimes faltered: "If the woman is to betrusted, you must leave here, master, and seek some safe hiding-place. Icame to offer one. On my way I heard your name. It was said that youhad wounded the Queen's son, and it might cost you your life. Then Ithought: 'No, no, not that, so long as Pyrrhus lives, who taught hisyoung master Dion to use the oars and to set his first sail--Pyrrhusand his family.' Why repeat what we both know well enough? From my firstboat and the land on our island to the liberty you bestowed upon us, weowe everything to your father and to you, and a blessing has rested uponyour gift and our labour, and what is mine is yours. No more words areneeded. You know our cliff beyond the Alveus Steganus, north of thegreat harbour--the Isle of Serpents. It is quickly gained by any one whoknows the course through the water, but is as inaccessible to others asthe moon and stars. People are afraid of the mere name, though we ridthe island of the vermin long ago. My boys Dionysus, Dionichus, andDionikus--they all have 'Dion' in their name--are waiting in the fishmarket, and when it grows dusk--" Here the wounded man interrupted thespeaker by holding out his hand and thanking him warmly for his fidelityand kindness, though he refused the well-meant invitation. He admittedthat he knew no safer hiding-place than the cliff surrounded byfluttering sea-gulls, where Pyrrhus lived with his family and earnedabundant support by fishing and serving as pilot. But anxiety concerninghis future wife prevented his leaving the city.
The freedman however gave him no rest. He represented how quickly theharbour could be reached from his island, that fish were brought thencefrom it daily, and he would therefore always have news of what waspassing. His sons were like him, and never used any unnecessary words;talking did not suit them. The women of the household rarely left theisland. So long as it sheltered their beloved guest, they should not setfoot away from it. If occasion should require, the master could be inAlexandria again quickly enough to put anything right.
This suggestion pleased the architect, who joined in the conversationto urge the freedman's request. But Dion, for Barine's sake, obstinatelyrefused, until Anukis, who had long been anxious to go in pursuit ofArchibius, thought it time to give her opinion.
"Go with the man, my lord!" she cried. "I know what I know. I willtell our Barine of your faithful resolution; but how can she show hergratitude for it if you are a dead man?"
This question and the information which followed it turned the scale;and, as soon as Dion had consented to accompany the freedman, the Nubianprepared to continue her errands, but the wounded man detained herto give many messages for Barine, and then she was stopped by thearchitect, who thought he had found in her the right assistant fornumerous plans he had in his mind.
He had returned early that morning from Heroonpolis, where, with othermembers of his profession, he had inspected the newly constructedwaterway. The result of the first investigation had been unfavourable tothe verge of discouragement; and, in behalf of the others, he had goneto the Queen to persuade her to give up the enterprise which, though sofull of promise, was impracticable in the short time at their disposal.
He had travelled all night, and was received as soon as Cleopatra rosefrom her couch. He had driven from the Lochias in the carriage placed athis disposal because he had business at the arsenal and various pointswhere building was going on, in order to inspect the wall erected forAntony on the Choma, and the Temple of Isis at the Corner of the Muses,to which Cleopatra desired to add a new building. But scarcely had hequitted the Bruchium when he was detained by the crowd assailing thehouse of Didymus with beams and rams, and at the same time keeping offthe Ephebi who had attacked them.
He had forced his way through the raging mob to aid the old couple andtheir granddaughter. The slave Phryx had been busily preparing the boatswhich lay moored in the harbour of the seawashed estate, but Gorgias hadfound it difficult to persuade the grey-haired philosopher to go withhim and his family to the shore. He was ready to face the enragedrioters and--though it should cost his life--cry out that they wereshamefully deceived and were staining themselves with a disgracefulcrime. Not until the architect represented that it was unworthy of aDidymus to expose to bestial violence a life on which helpless women andthe whole world--to whom his writings were guide-posts to the realms oftruth--possessed a claim, could he be induced to yield. Nevertheless,the sage and his relatives almost fell into the hands of the furiousrabble, for Didymus would not depart until he had saved this, that,and the other precious book, till the number reached twenty or thirty.Besides, his old deaf wife, who usually submitted quietly when herdefective hearing prevented her comprehension of many things, insistedupon knowing what was occurring. She ordered everybody who came near herto explain what had happened, thus detaining her granddaughter Helena,who was trying to save the most valuable articles in the dwelling. Sothe departure was delayed, and only the brave defence of young Philotas,Didymus's assistant, and some of the Ephebi, who joined him, enabledthem to escape unharmed.
The Scythian guards, which at last put a stop to the frantic rage ofthe deluded populace, arrived too late to prevent the destruction of thehouse, but they saved Philotas and the other youths from the fistsand stones of the rabble. When the boats had gone farther out intothe harbour the question of finding a home for the philosopher and hisfamily was discussed. Berenike's house was also threatened, and therules of the museum prevented the reception of women. Five servants hadaccompanied the family, and none of Didymus's learned friends had roomfor so m
any guests. When the old man and Helena began to enumerate thelodgings of which they could think, Gorgias interposed with an entreatythat they would come to his house.
He had inherited the dwelling from his father. It was very large andspacious, almost empty, and they could reach it speedily, as it stoodon the seashore, north of the Forum. The fugitives would be entirely atliberty there, since he had work on hand which would permit him to spendno time under his own roof except at night. He soon overcame the trivialobjections made by the philosopher and, fifteen minutes after they hadleft the Corner of the Muses, he was permitted to open the door ofhis house to his guests, and he did so with genuine pleasure. The oldhousekeeper and the grey-haired steward, who had been in his father'sservice, looked surprised, but worked zealously after Gorgias hadconfided the visitors to their charge. The pressure of business forbadehis fulfilling the duties of host in his own person.
Didymus and his family had reason to be grateful; and when the old sagefound in the large library which the architect placed at his disposalmany excellent books and among them some of his own, he ceased hisrestless pacing to and fro and forced himself to settle down. Then heremembered that, by the advice of a friend, he had placed his propertyin the keeping of a reliable banker and, though life still seemed darkgrey, it no longer looked as black as before.
Gorgias briefly related all this to the Nubian, and Dion added that shewould find Archibius with his Roman friend at the house of Berenike'sbrother, the philosopher Arius. Like himself, the latter was sufferingfrom an injury inflicted by a reckless trick of Antyllus. Barine'smother was there also, so Anukis could inform them of the fate ofDidymus and his brother, and tell them that he, Dion, intended to leaveher house and the city an hour after sunset.
"But," interrupted Gorgias, "no one, not even your hostess Berenike andher brother, must know your destination.--You look as if you could keepa secret, woman."
"Though she owes her nickname Aisopion to her nimble tongue," repliedDion.
"But this tongue is like the little silver fish with scarlet spots inthe palace garden," said Anukis. "They dart to and fro nimbly enough;but as soon as danger threatens they keep as quiet in the water asthough they were nailed fast. And--by mighty Isis!--we have no lack ofperil in these trying times. Would you like to see the lady Berenike andthe others before your departure?"
"Berenike, yes; but the sons of Arius--they are fine fellows--would bewise to keep aloof from this house to-day."
"Yes indeed!" the architect chimed in. "It will be prudent for theirfather, too, to seek some hiding-place. He is too closely connected withOctavianus. It may indeed happen that the Queen will desire to make useof him. In that case he may be able to aid Barine, who is his sister'schild. Timagenes, too, who comes from Rome as a mediator, may have someinfluence."
"The same thoughts entered my poor brain also," said Anukis. "I am nowgoing to show the gentlemen the danger which threatens her, and if Isucceed--Yet what could a serving-woman of my appearance accomplish?Still--my house is nearer to the brink of the stream than the dwellingof most others, and if I fling in a loaf, perhaps the current will bearit to the majestic sea."
"Wise Aisopion!" cried Dion; but the worthy maid-servant shrugged hercrooked shoulders, saying: "We needn't be free-born to find pleasure inwhat is right; and if being wise means using one's brains to think, withthe intention of promoting right and justice, you can always call me so.Then you will start after sundown?"
With these words she was about to leave the room, but the architect,who had watched her every movement, had formed a plan and begged her tofollow him.
When they reached the next room he asked for a faithful account ofBarine and the dangers threatening her. After consulting her as ifshe were an equal, he held out his hand in farewell, saying: "If it ispossible to bring her to the Temple of Isis unseen, these clouds mayscatter. I shall be in the sanctuary of the goddess from the first hourafter sunset. I have some measurements to take there. When you say youknow that the immortals will have pity on the innocent woman whom theyhave led to the verge of the abyss, perhaps you may be right. It seemsas if matters here were combining in a way which would be apt to rob thestory-teller of his listener's faith."
After Aisopion had gone, Gorgias returned to Dion's room and asked thefreedman to be ready with his boat at a place on the shore which hecarefully described.
The friends were again alone. Gorgias had his hands full of work, buthe could not help expressing his surprise at the calm bearing whichDion maintained. "You behave as if you were going to an oyster supperat Kanopus," he said, shaking his head as though perplexed by someincomprehensible problem.
"What else would you have me do?" asked the Macedonian. "The vividimagination of you artists shows you the future according to your ownvarying moods. If you hope, you transform a pleasant garden into theElysian fields; if you fear anything you behold in a burning roof theconflagration of a world. We, from whose cradle the Muse was absent, whouse only sober reason to provide for the welfare of the household andthe state, as well as for our own, see facts as they are and treat themlike figures in a sum. I know that Barine is in danger. That might driveme frantic; but beyond her I see Archibius and Charmian spreading theirprotecting wings over her head; I perceive the fear of my faction,including the museum, of the council of which I am a member, of myclients and the conditions of the times, which precludes arousingthe wrath of the citizens. The product which results from the correctaddition of all these known quantities--"
"Will be correct," interrupted his friend, "so long as the mostincalculable of all factors, passion, does not blend with them--thepassion of a woman--and the Queen belongs to the sex which is certainlymore powerful in that domain."
"Granted! But as soon as Mark Antony returns it will be proved that herjealousy was needless."
"We will hope so. It is only the misled, deceived, abused Cleopatra whomI fear; for she herself is matchless in divine goodness. The charm bywhich she ensnares hearts is indescribable, and the iron power of herintellect! I tell you, Dion--"
"Friend, friend," was the laughing interruption. "How high your wishessoar! For three years I have kept an account of the conflagrations inyour heart. I believe we had reached seventeen; but this last one isequal to two."
"Folly!" cried Gorgias in an irritated tone: "May not a man admirewhat is magnificent, wonderful, unique? She is all these things! Justnow--how long ago is it?--she appeared before me in a radiance ofbeauty--"
"Which should have made you shade both eyes. Yet you have been speakingso warmly of your young guest, her loving caution, her gentle calmnessin the midst of peril--"
"Do you suppose I wish to recall a single syllable?" the architectindignantly broke in. "Helena has no peer among the maidens ofAlexandria--but the other--Cleopatra--is elevated in her divine majestyabove all ordinary mortals. You might spare me and yourself thatscornful curl of the lip. Had she gazed into your face with thosetearful, sorrowful eyes, as she did into mine, and spoken of her misery,you would have gone through fire and water, hand in hand with me, forher sake. I am not a man who is easily moved, and since my father'sdeath the only tears I have seen have been shed by others; but when shetalked of the mausoleum I was to build for her because Fate, she knewnot how soon, might force her to seek refuge in the arms of death, mycalmness vanished. Then, when she cumbered me among the friends on whomshe could rely and held out her hand--a matchless hand--oh! laugh if youchoose--I felt I know not how, and kneeling at her feet I kissed it;it was wet with my tears. I am not ashamed of this emotion, and my lipsseem consecrated since they touched the little white hand which spoke alanguage of its own and stands before my eyes wherever I gaze."
Pushing back his thick locks from his brow as he spoke, he shook hishead as though dissatisfied with himself and, in an altered tone,hurriedly continued: "But this is a time ill-suited for such ebullitionsof feeling. I mentioned the mausoleum, whose erection the Queen desires.She will see the first hasty sketch to-morrow. It is already beforem
y mind's eye. She wished to have it adjoin the Temple of Isis, hergoddess--I proposed the great sanctuary in the Rhakotis quarter, but sheobjected--she wished to have it close to the palace at Lochias. She hadthought of the temple at the Corner of the Muses, but the house occupiedby Didymus stood in the way of a larger structure. If this were removedit would be possible to carry the street through the old man's garden,perhaps even to the sea-shore, and we should have had space for agigantic edifice and still left room for a fine garden. But we hadlearned how the philosopher loved his family estate. The Queen isunwilling to use violence towards the old man. She is just, and perhapsother reasons, of which I am ignorant, influence her. So I promised tolook for another site, though I saw how much she desired to have hertomb connected with the sanctuary of her favourite goddess Then--I havealready told the clever brown witch--then the immortals, Divinity,Fate, or whatever we call the power which guides the world and ourlives according to eternal laws and its own mysterious, omnipotent will,permitted a rascally deed, from which I think may come deliverance foryou and a source of pleasure to the Queen in these days of trial."
"Man, man! Where will this new passion lead you? The horses are stampingimpatiently outside; duty summons the most faithful of men, and hestands like a prophet, indulging in mysterious sayings!"
"Whose meaning and purport, spite of your calm calculations of existingcircumstances, will soon seem no less wonderful to you than to me, whoseunruly artist nature, according to your opinion, is playing me a trick,"retorted the architect. "Now listen to this explanation: Didymus's housewill be occupied at once by my workmen, but I shall examine the lowerrooms of the Temple of Isis. I have with me a document requiringobedience to my orders. Cleopatra herself laid the plans before me, eventhe secret portion showing the course of the subterranean chambers. Itwill cast some light upon my mysterious sayings if I bear you awayfrom the enemy through one of the secret corridors. They were right inconcealing from you by how slender a thread, spite of the power of yourexample in mathematics, the sword hangs above your head. Now that I seea possibility of removing it, I can show it to you. Tomorrow you wouldhave fallen, without hope of rescue, into the hands of cruel foes andbeen shamefully abandoned by your own weak uncle, had not the mostimplacable of all your enemies permitted himself the infamous pleasureof laying hands on an old man's house, and the Queen, in consequenceof an agitating message, had the idea suggested of building her ownmausoleum. The corridor"--here he lowered his voice--"of which I spokeleads to the sea at a spot close beside Didymus's garden, and throughit I will guide you, and, if possible, Barine also, to the shore. Thiscould be accomplished in the usual way only by the greatest risk. Ifwe use the passage we can reach a dark place on the strand unseen, andunless some special misfortune pursues us our flight will be unnoticed.The litters and your tottering gait would betray everything if we wereto enter the boat anywhere else in the great harbour."
"And we, sensible folk, refuse to believe in miracles!" cried Dion,holding out his wan hand to the architect. "How shall I thank you, youdear, clever, most loyal of friends to your male friends, though yourheart is so faithless to fair ones? Add that malicious speech to theformer ones, for which I now crave your pardon. What you intend toaccomplish for Barine and me gives you a right to do and say to mewhatever ill you choose all the rest of my life. Anxiety for her wouldsurely have bound me to this house and the city when the time came tomake the escape, for without her my life would now be valueless. Butwhen I think that she might follow me to Pyrrhus's cliff--"
"Don't flatter yourself with this hope," pleaded Gorgias. "Seriousobstacles may interpose. I am to have another talk with the Nubianlater. With no offence to others, I believe her advice will be the best.She knows how matters stand with the lofty, and yet herself belongs tothe lowly. Besides, through Charmian the way to the Queen lies open, andnothing which happens at court escapes her notice. She showed me that wemust consider Barine's delivery to Alexas a piece of good fortune. Howeasily jealousy might have led to a fatal crime one whose wish promptlybecomes action, unless she curbs the undue zeal of her living tools!Those on whom Fate inflicts so many blows rarely are in haste tospare others. Would the anxieties which weigh upon her like mountainsinterpose between the Queen and the jealous rancour which is too pettyfor her great soul?"
"What is great or petty to the heart of a loving woman?" asked Dion. "Inany case you will do what you can to remove Barine from the power of theenraged princess--I know."
Gorgias pressed his friend's hand closely, then, yielding to a suddenimpulse, kissed him on the forehead and hurried to the door.
On the threshold a faint moan from the wounded man stopped him. Would hebe strong enough to follow the long passage leading to the sea?
Dion protested that he confidently expected to do so, but his deeplyflushed face betrayed that the fever which had once been conquered hadreturned.
Gorgias's eyes sought the floor in deep thought. Many sick persons wereborne to the temple in the hope of cure; so Dion's appearance wouldcause no special surprise. On the other hand, to have strangers carryhim through the passage seemed perilous. He himself was strong, but eventhe strongest person would have found it impossible to support theheavy burden of a grown man to the sea, for the gallery was low andof considerable length. Still, if necessary, he would try. With thecomforting exclamation, "If your strength does not suffice, another waywill be found," he took his leave, gave Barine's maid and the woundedman's body-slave the necessary directions, commanded the door-keeper toadmit no one save the physician, and stepped into the open air.
A little band of Ephebi were pacing to and fro before the house. Othershad flung themselves down in an open space surrounded by shrubberyin the Paneum garden, and were drinking the choice wine which Dion'scellarer, by his orders, had brought and was pouring out for the crowd.
It was an animated scene, for the clients of the sufferer, who, afterexpressing their sympathy, had been dismissed by the porter, andbedizened girls had joined the youths. There was no lack of jests andlaughter, and when some pretty young mother or female slave passed byleading children, with whom the garden was a favourite playground, manya merry word was exchanged.
Gorgias waved his hands gaily to the youths, pleased with thecheerfulness with which the brave fellows transformed duty into afestival, and many raised their wine-cups, shouting a joyous "Io" and"Evoe," to drink the health of the famous artist who not long ago hadbeen one of themselves.
The others were led by a slender youth, the student Philotas, fromAmphissa, Didymus's assistant, whom the architect, a few days before,had helped to liberate from the demons of wine. Even while Gorgias wasbeckoning to him from the two-wheeled chariot, the thought entered hismind that yonder handsome youth, who had so deeply wronged Barine andDion, would be the very person to help carry his friend through thelow-roofed passage to the sea. If Philotas was the person Gorgiasbelieved him to be, he would deem it a special favour to make amends forhis crime to those whom he had injured, and he was not mistaken; for,after the youth had taken a solemn oath not to betray the secret toany one, the architect asked him to aid in Dion's rescue. Philotas,overflowing with joyful gratitude, protested his willingness to do so,and promised to wait at the appointed spot in the Temple of Isis at thetime mentioned.