CHAPTER III.
THE LAST OF A VETERAN.
The fate of Chelys caused wide-spread indignation and disgust even amongthe enemies of Carthage. No one was more indignant than Mastanabal, KingMasinissa's second son. The prince had tastes and habits very uncommonin the nation of hunters and fighters to which he belonged. He was alover of books, and disposed to be a patron of learning, if he couldonly find learning to patronize. The Greek population of Chelys hadalways preserved some traces of culture, and the Numidian prince was onterms of friendship with the settlement. He was an occasional visitor atits festivals, had received the compliment of a crown of honour, votedto him in a public assembly, and had shown his appreciation of thedistinction by building for the community a new town-hall.
His intercession had been implored by the magistrates when they foundthemselves repulsed by the Roman commander. Unfortunately he was absentfrom home when their messenger arrived. Immediately on his return hehurried to the spot. Too late, even if it had in any case been possible,to hinder the brutal vengeance of Flamininus, he was yet able tomitigate the lot of the survivors. By pledging his credit to theslave-dealers, themselves disposed to accommodate so powerful apersonage, he was able to secure the freedom of all the captives.
He made special inquiries about the family of Lysis, whose hospitalityhe had always enjoyed during his visits to the town, and learnt enoughto induce him to make a personal inspection of the captives. As themelancholy procession passed before him, his keen eyes discoveredCleanor under his disguise. He had, of course, too much delicacy andgood taste to inflict upon him the pain of a public recognition. Theyoung man was transported in a closed litter to a hunting-lodge thatbelonged to the prince. Here he found himself an honoured guest. Hispersonal wants were amply supplied; a library of some extent was at hisdisposal; and the chief huntsman waited upon him every morning to learnhis pleasure in case he should be disposed for an expedition.
In the course of a few days a letter from the prince was put into hishands. Beginning with a tactful and sympathetic reference to hismisfortunes, it went on thus:
_Use my home as if it were your own for as long as you will. You cannot please me better than by pleasing yourself. But if you are minded to find solace for your sorrows in action--and to this I would myself advise you--proceed to Cirta, and deliver the letter which I inclose herewith to the king, my father. My steward will provide you with a guide and an escort, and will also furnish such matters of dress and other equipment as you may need. Farewell!_
Cleanor's resolution was taken at once. In the course of a few hours hewas in the saddle. Two days of easy travel brought him to Cirta, and helost no time in presenting himself at the palace of King Masinissa. Hisletter of introduction, bearing as it did the seal of Prince Mastanabal,procured for him instant admission. The major-domo of the palaceconducted him to a guest-chamber, and shortly afterwards one of theking's body-guard brought him a message that Masinissa desired to seehim as soon as he had refreshed himself after his journey.
The chamber into which the young Greek was ushered was curiously bare tobe the audience-room of a powerful king. The walls were of mud roughlywashed with yellow; it was lighted by two large openings in the walls,unglazed, but furnished with lattices which could be closed at will bycords suspended from them; the pavement was of stone, not too carefullysmoothed; for furniture it had a sideboard, with some cups, flagons, andlamps upon it, a table, two or three chairs for the use of visitors whowere accustomed to these comfortless refinements, and a divan piled upwith bright-coloured mats and blankets. Near the divan was a brazier inwhich logs were smouldering.
Masinissa, king of Numidia[4], was a man whose intellect and physicalpowers were alike remarkable. He had consolidated the wandering tribesof Northern Africa into a kingdom, which he had kept together andaggrandized with a politic firmness which never blundered or wavered.His stature, though now somewhat bowed with years, was exceptional. Hisface, seamed with a thousand wrinkles, and burnt to a dark red byunnumbered suns, the snowy whiteness of hair and beard, and theabsolute emaciation of his form, on which not a trace of flesh seemed tobe left, spoke of extreme old age. And indeed he had more than completedhis ninetieth year, an age not phenomenally rare among us, where theclimate and the habits of life are less exhausting, but almost unheardof in a race whose fervid temperament seems to match their burning sky.
The old man's strength was now failing him. Two years before, he hadcommanded an army in the field, and commanded it with brilliant success,routing the best troops and the most skilled generals that Carthagecould send against him. He was not one of the veterans who contentthemselves with counsel, while they leave action to the young. That dayhe had remained in the saddle from sunrise to sunset, managing withoutdifficulty a fiery steed, whose saddle was no seat of ease. He hadshowed that on occasion he could deal as shrewd a blow with the sword,and throw as straight a javelin, as many men of half his age. But atninety years of age two or three years may make a great difference.Masinissa had fought his last battle. His senses were as keen as ever,the eyes flashed with their old fire, but his breathing was heavy andlaboured, and his hands shook with the palsy of age.
"Welcome, Cleanor!" he said with a full resonant voice that years hadnot touched, "my son commends you to me. Can you be content to wait onan old man for a month or so? I shall hardly trouble you longer. I havenever been a whole day within doors save once for a spear wound in thethroat, and once when they tried to poison me; and those who have livedin such fashion don't take long about dying."
Cleanor found his task an easy one. The old king suffered little, exceptfrom the restlessness which comes with extreme exhaustion. Even overthis he maintained a remarkable control. It was not during his wakinghours, but in his short periods of fitful slumber, that the uneasymovements of his limbs might be observed. His intelligence was as keenas ever, and his memory curiously exact, though it was on the far pastthat it chiefly dwelt. What a story the young Greek could have piecedtogether out of the old man's recollections! He had seen and known theheroes of the last fierce struggle between Carthage and Rome, had riddenby the side of the great Scipio at Zama, and had been within an ace ofcapturing the famous Hannibal himself as he fled from that fatal field.The young Greek, surprised to find himself in such a position, wasnaturally curious to know why the old man preferred the companionship ofa stranger to that of his own kindred. When he ventured to hintsomething of the kind, the king smiled cynically.
"You don't understand," he said, "the amiable ways of such a householdas mine. What do you think would have been the result if I had chosenone of my three sons to be with me now? Why, furious jealousy and plotswithout end on the part of the other two. And if I had had the three ofthem together? Well, I certainly could not have expected to die inpeace. Quarrel they certainly will, but I can't have them quarrellinghere. Mind, I don't say that they are worse than other sons; on thecontrary, they are better. I do hope they may live in peace when I amgone; at least, I have done my best to secure it."
As the days passed, the king grew weaker and weaker, but his facultieswere never clouded, and his cheerfulness was unimpaired.
About ten days after the conversation recorded above, a Greek physician,whose reputation was widely spread in Northern Africa, arrived at thepalace. The three princes had sent him. Masinissa, informed of hiscoming, made no difficulty about seeing him. "I am not afraid of beingpoisoned," he said with a smile; "I really do not think that my sonswould do such a thing. It would not be worth while, and, anyhow, theycould not agree about it. Yes, let him come in. Of course he can't dome any good; but it is one of the penalties that has to be paid forgreatness, that one must die according to rule. No one of any repute isallowed to die in these parts without having Timæus to help him off.Yes, I will see him. And mind, Cleanor, when he has examined me have atalk with him, and make him tell you the absolute truth."
That afternoon, soon after the physician had departed, the king summonedthe yo
ung Greek to his chamber.
"Well, what does he say, Cleanor?" he asked.
The young man hesitated.
"Come," cried the old king, raising his voice, "I command you to speak.As for these physicians, it is quite impossible for a patient to get thetruth out of them. It seems to be a point of honour not to tell it. ButI suppose he told it to you. Speak out, man; you don't suppose that I amafraid of what I have faced pretty nearly every day for nearly fourscoreyears."
"He said," answered Cleanor in a low voice, "that your time, sire, wasnearly come."
"And how many days, or, I should rather say, hours did he give me?"
"He said that you could hardly live more than two days."
"Well, I am ready. I have had my turn, a full share of the feast oflife, and it would be a shameful thing if I was to grudge to go. Butthere is trouble ahead for those who are to come after me. I have donemy best for my kingdom, yet nothing can save it long. You know, I had tochoose, when I was about your age, between Rome and Carthage, and mychoice was the right one. If I had taken sides with Carthage, Rome wouldhave swallowed up this kingdom fifty years ago; as it is, she willswallow us up fifty years hence. Sooner or later we are bound to go. Butit has lasted my time, and will last my sons' time too, if they arewise. And now, as to this matter. I have something to put in yourcharge. You have heard of Scipio?"
Cleanor nodded his assent.
"He came over here some two months ago, when I had had my first warningthat my time was short, and that I had best set my affairs in order. Noone had any notion but that he came on military business. The Romans hadasked me for help, and I didn't choose to give it just then. They hadn'tconsulted me in what they had done, and it was time, I thought, thatthey should have a lesson. We did discuss these matters; but what hereally came for was a more serious affair. I left it to him to divide mykingdom between my three sons. I had thought of dividing it in the usualway; this and that province to one, and this and that province toanother. But he had quite another plan in his head, and it seemed to mewonderfully shrewd. 'Don't divide the kingdom,' he said; 'the threeparts would be too weak to stand alone. Divide the offices of thekingdom. Let each prince have the part for which he is best fitted--onewar and outside affairs, another justice, the third one civil affairs.'Well, I took his advice, and had his settlement put in writing. Thechief priest of the temple of Zeus in Cirta here has the document in hiskeeping."
After this the old man was silent for a time. Rousing himself again, forhe had been inclined to doze, he said:
"Cleanor, are you here?"
"Yes, sire," replied the Greek.
"Don't leave me till all is over. And now give me a cup of wine."
"But, sire, the physician said--"
"Pooh! what does it matter if I die one hour or two or three hoursbefore sunrise? And I want something that will give me a littlestrength."
Cleanor filled a cup and handed it to the king. "It hardly tastes asgood as usual," said the old man, when he had drained it, "yet that, Ican easily believe, is not the wine's fault, but mine. But tell me, doyou think that I shall know anything about what is going on here when Iam gone? What does Mastanabal say? I haven't had time to think aboutthese things; but he reads, and you are something of a student too. Whatdo the philosophers say?"
"Aristotle thinks, sire, that the dead may very well know somethingabout the fortunes of their descendants--it would be almost inhuman, hesays, if they did not--but that it will not be enough to make themeither happy or unhappy."
"Well, the less one knows the better, when one comes to think. To seethings going wrong and not be able to interfere!... But enough ofthis.... And now, Cleanor, about yourself. You do not love the Romans, Ithink?"
The young Greek's face flushed at the question.
"I have no reason to love them, sire."
"Very likely not. Indeed, who does love them? Not I; if I could crushthem I would, as readily as I stamp my foot on a viper's head. But thatis not the question. Can you make use of them? You shake your head. Itdoes not suit your honour to pretend a friendship which you do not feel.That has not been my rule, as you know, but there is something to besaid for it. Well, it is a pity that you can't walk that way. Whether welove them or no, depend upon it, the future belongs to them. And I couldhave helped you with some of their great men. I have written a letter toScipio, and two or three others to powerful people in Rome who wouldhelp you for my sake. You can deliver them or not as you please. Buttell me, what are you going to do if the Romans are out of thequestion?"
"I thought of going to Carthage," answered the young man in a hesitatingvoice.
"Carthage!" repeated the king in astonishment. "Why, the place isdoomed. It can't hold out more than a year,--or two at the outside. Andthen the Romans won't leave so much as one stone standing upon another.They won't run the chance of having another Hannibal to deal with.Carthage! You might as well put a noose round your neck at once!"
"I hope not, sire," said the young man. "And in any case I have onlyCarthage and Rome to choose between."
"Well," replied the old king after a pause, "you must go your own way.But still I can help you, at least with some provision for the journey.Put your hand under my pillow and you will find a key."
The young man did as he was told.
"Now open that chest in yonder corner, and bring me a casket that youwill find wrapped up in a crimson shawl."
Cleanor brought the casket and put it into the king's hands. Masinissaunlocked it and took out a rouleau of gold pieces, which he gave toCleanor. "That will be useful for the present," he said; "but gold is aclumsy thing, and you can hardly carry about with you what would servefor a single year. This bit of parchment is an order for a thousandounces of gold--five hundred thousand sesterces in Roman money--on CaiusRabirius, knight, of the Coelian Hill in Rome, who has kept some moneyfor me for thirty years or more. You can sell the parchment to Boccharthe banker in Cirta here. He will charge you something for hiscommission, but it will save you trouble. And he will keep the money foryou, or whatever part of it you please. It is a very handy way ofcarrying about money; but there is another that is more handy still."
The old man took out a small leather bag full of precious stones."These," he said, "you can always hide. It is true that the merchantswill cheat you more or less when you want to sell them. Still, you willfind these stones very useful."
The jewels were worth at least five times as much as the order on theparchment. "It is too much," murmured the Greek. "I did not expect--"
"It is true that you did not expect. I have seen that all along, andthat is one of the reasons why I give it. And as for the 'too much', youmust leave me to judge about that. My sons will find treasure enoughwhen they come to divide my goods between them. I have been saving allmy life, and this is but a trifle which they will not miss, and whichyou will find very useful. And now give me another cup of wine. Afterthis I will sleep a while. You will stay,--and don't let that youngvillain Jugurtha come near me."
Two or three hours afterwards Cleanor was startled to see the old manraise himself in bed, a thing which he had not been able to do withouthelp for three or four days past. He hastened to the bedside, but theking, though his eyes were wide open, did not seem to see him. Yetsomething there was that he saw; his was no vacant stare, but a lookfull of tenderness. Then he began to speak, and his voice had a softtone of which Cleanor could not have believed it capable.
"THE OLD KING, THOUGH HIS EYES WERE OPEN, DID NOT SEEM TOSEE CLEANOR."]
"So, sweetest and fairest, you have not forgotten me; you, as all menknow, no one can forget. Why am I in such haste? Nay, dearest, look inyour mirror for an answer. And besides, when you are mine, the Romanscan have nothing more to say. Till to-morrow, then--but stay, let megive you a little token. Nay,"--and his voice changed in an instant to anote of horror--"what, pray, has changed my love-gift into this? Faugh!"
And with a gesture as of one who dashed something to the ground, he sankdown upon the
bed, and in another moment was sleeping again.[5]
Early the next morning the king's three sons, who had heard thephysician's report of their father's health, arrived at the palace.Their emotion, as they knelt by the dying king, was genuine, thoughprobably not very deep. The old man was perfectly self-possessed andcalm.
"My sons," he said, "I have done my best for you. Probably you will notlike it. What is there, indeed, that you would all like? But lay yourhands on my head and swear that you will accept what I have done. Whatit is you had best not know till I am gone. But trust me that I havebeen just to all of you."
The princes took the oath.
"Cleanor here knows where I have put away my testament, but he is boundby me not to tell till I am buried. And now farewell! Don't wait for theend. You will have your hands full, I warrant, as soon as the tribesknow that the old man is gone."
The princes left the room and the old man turned his face to the walland seemed to sleep. All the rest of that day Cleanor watched, butnoticed no change. Just before dawn he heard the sleeper draw two orthree deep breaths. He bade the slave who was in waiting in theante-chamber call the physician.
But the man of science found no movement either of pulse or heart. Whenhe held a mirror to the mouth, there was not the faintest sign of breathupon it. The world had seen the last of one of the most wonderful of itsveterans.
FOOTNOTES:
4: Numidia corresponds roughly to Algeria, Mauretania to Morocco.
5: In his youth Masinissa was betrothed to Sophonisba, the accomplished and beautiful daughter of Hasdrubal, son of Gisco. The engagement was broken off for political reasons. Hasdrubal made Sophonisba's hand the price of an alliance which he wished Syphax, Masinissa's rival in the struggle for the Numidian throne, to contract with Carthage. In the war that followed, Syphax was defeated, first by the Romans, afterwards by Masinissa himself, who took Cirta, his capital, and in it Sophonisba. To marry her at once seemed to the conqueror the only way of saving her from the Romans. But the marriage did not suit the policy of Rome, which dreaded the hostile influence which such a woman might exercise. Scipio (the Elder), who was in command, insisted that Sophonisba should be given up; and Masinissa, to save her the humiliation of captivity, sent her a cup of poison.