CHAPTER XV.
Lysias eyes had not deceived him. The chariot with white horses which hehad evaded during his flight with Irene belonged to Eulaeus. The morningbeing cool--and also because Cleopatra's lady-in-waiting was withhim--he had come out in a closed chariot, in which he sat on softcushions side by side with the Macedonian lady, endeavoring to win hergood graces by a conversation, witty enough in its way.
"On the way there," thought he, "I will make her quite favorable to me,and on the way back I will talk to her of my own affairs."
The drive passed quickly and pleasantly for both, and they neither ofthem paid any heed to the sound of the hoofs of the horses that werebearing away Irene.
Eulaeus dismounted behind the acacia-grove, and expressed a hope thatZoe would not find the time very long while he was engaged with thehigh-priest; perhaps indeed, he remarked, she might even make some useof the time by making advances to the representative of Hebe.
But Irene had been long since warmly welcomed in the house ofApollodorus, the sculptor, by the time they once more found themselvestogether in the chariot; Eulaeus feigning, and Zoe in reality feeling,extreme dissatisfaction at all that had taken place in the temple. Thehigh-priest had rejected Philometor's demand that he should sendthe water-bearer to the palace on King Euergetes' birthday, with adecisiveness which Eulaeus would never have given him credit for, for hehad on former occasions shown a disposition to measures of compromise;while Zoe had not even seen the waterbearer.
"I fancy," said the queen's shrewd friend, "that I followed you somewhattoo late, and that when I entered the temple about half an hour afteryou--having been detained first by Imhotep, the old physician, and thenby an assistant of Apollodorus, the sculptor, with some new busts ofthe philosophers--the high-priest had already given orders that the girlshould be kept concealed; for when I asked to see her, I was conductedfirst to her miserable room, which seemed more fit for peasants or goatsthan for a Hebe, even for a sham one--but I found it perfectly deserted.
"Then I was shown into the temple of Serapis, where a priest wasinstructing some girls in singing, and then sent hither and thither,till at last, finding no trace whatever of the famous Irene, I came tothe dwelling-house of the gate-keeper of the temple.
"An ungainly woman opened the door, and said that Irene had been gonefrom thence for some long time, but that her elder sister was there,so I desired she might be fetched to speak with me. And what, if youplease, was the answer I received? The goddess Klea--I call her so asbeing sister to a Hebe--had to nurse a sick child, and if I wanted tosee her I might go in and find her.
"The tone of the message quite conveyed that the distance from her downto me was as great as in fact it is the other way. However, I thoughtit worth the trouble to see this supercilious water-bearing girl, and Iwent into a low room--it makes me sick now to remember how it smeltof poverty--and there she sat with an idiotic child, dying on her lap.Everything that surrounded me was so revolting and dismal that it willhaunt my dreams with terror for weeks to come and spoil all my cheerfulhours.
"I did not remain long with these wretched creatures, but I mustconfess that if Irene is as like to Hebe as her elder sister is to Hera,Euergetes has good grounds for being angry if Asclepiodorus keeps thegirl from him.
"Many a queen--and not least the one whom you and I know sointimately-would willingly give half of her kingdom to possess such afigure and such a mien as this serving-girl. And then her eyes, as shelooked at me when she rose with that little gasping corpse in her arms,and asked me what I wanted with her sister!
"There was an impressive and lurid glow in those solemn eyes, whichlooked as if they had been taken out of some Medusa's head to be set inher beautiful face. And there was a sinister threat in them too whichseemed to say: 'Require nothing of her that I do not approve of, or youwill be turned into stone on the spot.' She did not answer twenty wordsto my questions, and when I once more tasted the fresh air outside,which never seemed to me so pleasant as by contrast with that horriblehole, I had learnt no more than that no one knew--or chose to know--inwhat corner the fair Irene was hidden, and that I should do well to makeno further enquiries.
"And now, what will Philometor do? What will you advise him to do?"
"What cannot be got at by soft words may sometimes be obtained by asufficiently large present," replied Eulaeus. "You know very well thatof all words none is less familiar to these gentry than the little word'enough'; but who indeed is really ready to say it?
"You speak of the haughtiness and the stern repellent demeanor of ourHebe's sister. I have seen her too, and I think that her image might beset up in the Stoa as a happy impersonation of the severest virtue: andyet children generally resemble their parents, and her father was theveriest peculator and the most cunning rascal that ever came in my way,and was sent off to the gold-mines for very sufficient reasons. And forthe sake of the daughter of a convicted criminal you have been driventhrough the dust and the scorching heat, and have had to submit to herscorn and contemptuous airs, while I am threatened with grave peril onher account, for you know that Cleopatra's latest whim is to do honor tothe Roman, Publius Scipio; he, on the other hand, is running after ourHebe, and, having promised her that he will obtain an unqualified pardonfor her father, he will do his utmost to throw the odium of his robberyupon me.
"The queen is to give him audience this very day, and you cannot knowhow many enemies a man makes who, like me, has for many years been oneof the leading men of a great state. The king acknowledges, and withgratitude, all that I have done for him and for his mother; but if, atthe moment when Publius Scipio accuses me, he is more in favor with herthan ever, I am a lost man.
"You are always with the queen; do you tell her who these girls are, andwhat motives the Roman has for loading me with their father's crimes;and some opportunity must offer for doing you and your belongings somefriendly office or another."
"What a shameless crew!" exclaimed Zoe. "Depend upon it I will notbe silent, for I always do what is just. I cannot bear seeing otherssuffering an injustice, and least of all that a man of your merit anddistinction should be wounded in his honor, because a haughty foreignertakes a fancy to a pretty little face and a conceited doll of a girl."
Zoe was in the right when she found the air stifling in thegate-keeper's house, for poor Irene, unaccustomed to such an atmosphere,could no more endure it than the pretentious maid of honor. It costeven Klea an effort to remain in the wretched room, which served as thedwelling-place of the whole family; where the cooking was carried onat a smoky hearth, while, at night, it also sheltered a goat and a fewfowls; but she had endured even severer trials than this for the sake ofwhat she deemed right, and she was so fond of little Philo--her anxiouscare in arousing by degrees his slumbering intelligence had brought herso much soothing satisfaction, and the child's innocent gratitudehad been so tender a reward--that she wholly forgot the repulsivesurroundings as soon as she felt that her presence and care wereindispensable to the suffering little one.
Imhotep, the most famous of the priest-physicians of the temple ofAsclepius--a man who was as learned in Greek as in Egyptian medicallore, and who had been known by the name of "the modern Herophilus"since King Philometor had summoned him from Alexandria to Memphis--hadlong since been watchful of the gradual development of the dormantintelligence of the gate-keeper's child, whom he saw every day in hisvisits to the temple. Now, not long after Zoe had quitted the house, hecame in to see the sick child for the third time. Klea was still holdingthe boy on her lap when he entered. On a wooden stool in front ofher stood a brazier of charcoal, and on it a small copper kettle thephysician had brought with him; to this a long tube was attached. Thetube was in two parts, joined together by a leather joint, also tubular,in such a way that the upper portion could be turned in any direction.Klea from time to time applied it to the breast of the child, and, inobedience to Imhotep's instructions, made the little one inhale thesteam that poured out of it.
"Has it had the s
oothing effect it ought to have?" asked the physician.
"Yes, indeed, I think so," replied Klea, "There is not so much noise inthe chest when the poor little fellow draws his breath."
The old man put his ear to the child's mouth, laid his hand on his brow,and said:
"If the fever abates I hope for the best. This inhaling of steam is anexcellent remedy for these severe catarrhs, and a venerable one besides;for in the oldest writings of Hermes we find it prescribed as anapplication in such cases. But now he has had enough of it. Ah! thissteam--this steam! Do you know that it is stronger than horses or oxen,or the united strength of a whole army of giants? That diligent enquirerHero of Alexandria discovered this lately.
"But our little invalid has had enough of it, we must not overheat him.Now, take a linen cloth--that one will do though it is not very fine.Fold it together, wet it nicely with cold water--there is some in thatmiserable potsherd there--and now I will show you how to lay it on thechild's throat.
"You need not assure me that you understand me, Klea, for you havehands--neat hands--and patience without end! Sixty-five years have Ilived, and have always had good health, but I could almost wish to beill for once, in order to be nursed by you. That poor child is welloff better than many a king's child when it is sick; for him hirelingnurses, no doubt, fetch and do all that is necessary, but one thing theycannot give, for they have it not; I mean the loving and indefatigablepatience by which you have worked a miracle on this child's mind, andare now working another on his body. Aye, aye, my girl; it is to you andnot me that this woman will owe her child if it is preserved to her.Do you hear me, woman? and tell your husband so too; and if you do notreverence Klea as a goddess, and do not lay your hands beneath her feet,may you be--no--I will wish you no ill, for you have not too much of thegood things of life as it is!"
As he spoke the gate-keeper's wife came timidly up to the physician andthe sick child, pushed her rough and tangled hair off her foreheada little, crossed her lean arms at full length behind her back,and, looking down with out-stretched neck at the boy, stared in dumbamazement at the wet cloths. Then she timidly enquired:
"Are the evil spirits driven out of the child?"
"Certainly," replied the physician. "Klea there has exorcised them, andI have helped her; now you know."
"Then I may go out for a little while? I have to sweep the pavement ofthe forecourt."
Klea nodded assent, and when the woman had disappeared the physiciansaid:
"How many evil demons we have to deal with, alas! and how few good ones.Men are far more ready and willing to believe in mischievous spiritsthan in kind or helpful ones; for when things go ill with them--and itis generally their own fault when they do--it comforts them and flatterstheir vanity if only they can throw the blame on the shoulders of evilspirits; but when they are well to do, when fortune smiles on them ofcourse, they like to ascribe it to themselves, to their own clevernessor their superior insight, and they laugh at those who admonish them ofthe gratitude they owe to the protecting and aiding demons. I, formy part, think more of the good than of the evil spirits, and you, mychild, without doubt are one of the very best.
"You must change the compress every quarter of an hour, and betweenwhiles go out into the open air, and let the fresh breezes fan yourbosom--your cheeks look pale. At mid-day go to your own little room, andtry to sleep. Nothing ought to be overdone, so you are to obey me."
Klea replied with a friendly and filial nod, and Imhotep stroked downher hair; then he left; she remained alone in the stuffy hot room, whichgrew hotter every minute, while she changed the wet cloths for thesick child, and watched with delight the diminishing hoarseness anddifficulty of his breathing. From time to time she was overcome by aslight drowsiness, and closed her eyes for a few minutes, but only for ashort while; and this half-awake and half-asleep condition, chequeredby fleeting dreams, and broken only by an easy and pleasing duty, thisrelaxation of the tension of mind and body, had a certain charm ofwhich, through it all, she remained perfectly conscious. Here she wasin her right place; the physicians kind words had done her good, andher anxiety for the little life she loved was now succeeded by awell-founded hope of its preservation.
During the night she had already come to a definite resolution, toexplain to the high-priest that she could not undertake the office ofthe twin-sisters, who wept by the bier of Osiris, and that she wouldrather endeavor to earn bread by the labor of her hands for herself andIrene--for that Irene should do any real work never entered her mind--atAlexandria, where even the blind and the maimed could find occupation.Even this prospect, which only yesterday had terrified her, began nowto smile upon her, for it opened to her the possibility of provingindependently the strong energy which she felt in herself.
Now and then the figure of the Roman rose before her mind's eye, andevery time that this occurred she colored to her very forehead. Butto-day she thought of this disturber of her peace differently fromyesterday; for yesterday she had felt herself overwhelmed by him withshame, while to-day it appeared to her as though she had triumphed overhim at the procession, since she had steadily avoided his glance, andwhen he had dared to approach her she had resolutely turned her backupon him. This was well, for how could the proud foreigner exposehimself again to such humiliation.
"Away, away--for ever away!" she murmured to herself, and her eyes andbrow, which had been lighted up by a transient smile, once more assumedthe expression of repellent sternness which, the day before, hadso startled and angered the Roman. Soon however the severity of herfeatures relaxed, as she saw in fancy the young man's beseeching look,and remembered the praise given him by the recluse, and as--in themiddle of this train of thought--her eyes closed again, slumber oncemore falling upon her spirit for a few minutes, she saw in her dreamPublius himself, who approached her with a firm step, took her inhis arms like a child, held her wrists to stop her struggling hands,gathered her up with rough force, and then flung her into a canoe lyingat anchor by the bank of the Nile.
She fought with all her might against this attack and seizure, screamedaloud with fury, and woke at the sound of her own voice. Then she gotup, dried her eyes that were wet with tears, and, after laying a freshlywetted cloth on the child's throat, she went out of doors in obedienceto the physician's advice.
The sun was already at the meridian, and its direct rays were fiercelyreflected from the slabs of yellow sandstone that paved the forecourt.On one side only of the wide, unroofed space, one of the colonnades thatsurrounded it threw a narrow shade, hardly a span wide; and she wouldnot go there, for under it stood several beds on which lay pilgrimswho, here in the very dwelling of the divinity, hoped to be visited withdreams which might give them an insight into futurity.
Klea's head was uncovered, and, fearing the heat of noon, she was aboutto return into the door-keeper's house, when she saw a young white-robedscribe, employed in the special service of Asclepiodorus, who cameacross the court beckoning eagerly to her. She went towards him, butbefore he had reached her he shouted out an enquiry whether her sisterIrene was in the gate-keeper's lodge; the high-priest desired to speakwith her, and she was nowhere to be found. Klea told him that a grandlady from the queen's court had already enquired for her, and that thelast time she had seen her had been before daybreak, when she was goingto fill the jars for the altar of the god at the Well of the Sun.
"The water for the first libation," answered the priest, "was placed onthe altar at the right time, but Doris and her sister had to fetch itfor the second and third. Asclepiodorus is angry--not with you, for heknows from Imhotep that you are taking care of a sick child--but withIrene. Try and think where she can be. Something serious must haveoccurred that the high-priest wishes to communicate to her."
Klea was startled, for she remembered Irene's tears the evening before,and her cry of longing for happiness and freedom. Could it be that thethoughtless child had yielded to this longing, and escaped without herknowledge, though only for a few hours, to see the city and the ga
y lifethere?
She collected herself so as not to betray her anxiety to the messenger,and said with downcast eyes:
"I will go and look for her."
She hurried back into the house, once more looked to the sick child,called his mother and showed her how to prepare the compresses, urgingher to follow Imhotep's directions carefully and exactly till she shouldreturn; she pressed one loving kiss on little Philo's forehead--feelingas she did so that he was less hot than he had been in the morning--andthen she left, going first to her own dwelling.
There everything stood or lay exactly as she had left it during thenight, only the golden jars were wanting. This increased Klea's alarm,but the thought that Irene should have taken the precious vessels withher, in order to sell them and to live on the proceeds, never onceentered her mind, for her sister, she knew, though heedless and easilypersuaded, was incapable of any base action.
Where was she to seek the lost girl? Serapion, the recluse, to whom shefirst addressed herself, knew nothing of her.
On the altar of Serapis, whither she next went, she found both thevessels, and carried them back to her room.
Perhaps Irene had gone to see old Krates, and while watching his workand chattering to him, had forgotten the flight of time--but no, thepriest-smith, whom she sought in his workshop, knew nothing of thevanished maiden. He would willingly have helped Klea to seek for hisfavorite, but the new lock for the tombs of the Apis had to be finishedby mid-day, and his swollen feet were painful.
Klea stood outside the old man's door sunk in thought, and it occurredto her that Irene had often, in her idle hours, climbed up into thedove-cot belonging to the temple, to look out from thence over thedistant landscape, to visit the sitting birds, to stuff food into thegaping beaks of the young ones, or to look up at the cloud of soaringdoves. The pigeon-house, built up of clay pots and Nile-mud, stood onthe top of the storehouse, which lay adjoining the southern boundarywall of the temple.
She hastened across the sunny courts and slightly shaded alleys, andmounted to the flat roof of the storehouse, but she found there neitherthe old dove-keeper nor his two grandsons who helped him in his work,for all three were in the anteroom to the kitchen, taking their dinnerwith the temple-servants.
Klea shouted her sister's name; once, twice, ten times--but no oneanswered. It was just as if the fierce heat of the sun burnt up thesound as it left her lips. She looked into the first pigeon-house, thesecond, the third, all the way to the last. The numberless little claytenements of the brisk little birds threw out a glow like a heated oven;but this did not hinder her from hunting through every nook and corner.Her cheeks were burning, drops of perspiration stood on her brow,and she had much difficulty in freeing herself from the dust of thepigeon-houses, still she was not discouraged.
Perhaps Irene had gone into the Anubidium, or sanctuary of Asclepius,to enquire as to the meaning of some strange vision, for there, withthe priestly physicians, lived also a priestess who could interpretthe dreams of those who sought to be healed even better than a certainrecluse who also could exercise that science. The enquirers often had towait a long time outside the temple of Asclepius, and this considerationencouraged Klea, and made her insensible to the burning southwest windwhich was now rising, and to the heat of the sun; still, as she returnedto the Pastophorium--slowly, like a warrior returning from a defeat--shesuffered severely from the heat, and her heart was wrung with anguishand suspense.
Willingly would she have cried, and often heaved a groan that was morelike a sob, but the solace of tears to relieve her heart was stilldenied to her.
Before going to tell Asclepiodorus that her search had beenunsuccessful, she felt prompted once more to talk with her friend, theanchorite; but before she had gone far enough even to see his cell,the high-priest's scribe once more stood in her way, and desired her tofollow him to the temple. There she had to wait in mortal impatience formore than an hour in an ante room. At last she was conducted into a roomwhere Asclepiodorus was sitting with the whole chapter of the priesthoodof the temple of Serapis.
Klea entered timidly, and had to wait again some minutes in the presenceof the mighty conclave before the high-priest asked her whether shecould give any information as to the whereabouts of the fugitive, andwhether she had heard or observed anything that could guide them on hertrack, since he, Asclepiodorus, knew that if Irene had run away secretlyfrom the temple she must be as anxious about her as he was.
Klea had much difficulty in finding words, and her knees shook as shebegan to speak, but she refused the seat which was brought for her byorder of Asclepiodorus. She recounted in order all the places where shehad in vain sought her sister, and when she mentioned the sanctuary ofAsclepius, and a recollection came suddenly and vividly before her ofthe figure of a lady of distinction, who had come there with a numberof slaves and waiting-maids to have a dream interpreted, Zoe's visit toherself flashed upon her memory; her demeanor--at first so over-friendlyand then so supercilious--and her haughty enquiries for Irene.
She broke off in her narrative, and exclaimed:
"I am sure, holy father, that Irene has not fled of her own freeimpulse, but some one perhaps may have lured her into quitting thetemple and me; she is still but a child with a wavering mind. Could itpossibly be that a lady of rank should have decoyed her into going withher? Such a person came to-day to see me at the door-keeper's lodge.She was richly dressed and wore a gold crescent in her light wavy hair,which was plaited with a silk ribband, and she asked me urgently aboutmy sister. Imhotep, the physician, who often visits at the king'spalace, saw her too, and told me her name is Zoe, and that she islady-in-waiting to Queen Cleopatra."
These words occasioned the greatest excitement throughout the conclaveof priests, and Asclepiodorus exclaimed:
"Oh! women, women! You indeed were right, Philammon; I could not andwould not believe it! Cleopatra has done many things which are forgivenonly in a queen, but that she should become the tool of her brother'sbasest passions, even you, Philammon, could hardly regard as likely,though you are always prepared to expect evil rather than good. But now,what is to be done? How can we protect ourselves against violence andsuperior force?"
Klea had appeared before the priests with cheeks crimson and glowingfrom the noontide heat, but at the high-priest's last words the bloodleft her face, she turned ashy-pale, and a chill shiver ran through hertrembling limbs. Her father's child--her bright, innocent Irene--baselystolen for Euergetes, that licentious tyrant of whose wild deedsSerapion had told her only last evening, when he painted the dangersthat would threaten her and Irene if they should quit the shelter of thesanctuary.
Alas, it was too true! They had tempted away her darling child, hercomfort and delight, lured her with splendor and ease, only to sinkher in shame! She was forced to cling to the back of the chair she haddisdained, to save herself from falling.
But this weakness overmastered her for a few minutes only; she boldlytook two hasty steps up to the table behind which the high-priestwas sitting, and, supporting herself with her right hand upon it, sheexclaimed, while her voice, usually so full and sonorous, had a hoarsetone:
"A woman has been the instrument of making another woman unworthy of thename of woman! and you--you, the protectors of right and virtue--you whoare called to act according to the will and mind of the gods whom youserve--you are too weak to prevent it? If you endure this, if you donot put a stop to this crime you are not worthy--nay, I will not beinterrupted--you, I say, are unworthy of the sacred title and of thereverence you claim, and I will appeal--"
"Silence, girl!" cried Asclepiodorus to the terribly excited Klea."I would have you imprisoned with the blasphemers, if I did not wellunderstand the anguish which has turned your brain. We will interfereon behalf of the abducted girl, and you must wait patiently in silence.You, Callimachus, must at once order Ismael, the messenger, to saddlethe horses, and ride to Memphis to deliver a despatch from me to thequeen; let us all combine to compose it, and subscribe our names a
s soonas we are perfectly certain that Irene has been carried off from theseprecincts. Philammon, do you command that the gong be sounded whichcalls together all the inhabitants of the temple; and you, my girl, quitthis hall, and join the others."