CHAPTER XXI.
This time the architect could spend only a few hours on the SerpentIsland, for affairs in the city were beginning to wear a very seriousaspect, and the building of the monument was pushed forward even duringthe night. The interior of the first story was nearly completed and therough portion of the second was progressing. The mosaic workers, whowere making the floor of the great hall, had surpassed themselves. Itwas impossible to wait longer for the sculptures which were to adornthe walls. At present slabs of polished black marble were to occupy theplaces intended for bronze reliefs; the utmost haste was necessary.
Octavianus had already reached Pelusium; even if Seleukus, the commanderof the garrison, held the strong fortress a long time, a part of thehostile army might appear before Alexandria the following week.
A considerable force, however, was ready to meet him. The fleet seemedequal to that of the enemy; the horsemen whom Antony had led before theQueen would delight the eye of any one versed in military affairs; andthe Imperator hoped much from the veterans who had served under him informer times, learned to know his generosity and open hand in the hourof prosperity, and probably had scarcely forgotten the eventful dayswhen he had cheerfully and gaily shared their perils and privations.
Helena remained on the cliff, and her longing for the old couple hadmaterially diminished. Her hands moved nimbly, and her cheerful glanceshowed that the lonely life on the island was beginning to unfold itscharms to her.
The young husband, however, had grown very uneasy. He concealedit before the women, but old Pyrrhus often had much difficulty inpreventing his making a trip to the city which might imperil, on the eveof the final decision, the result of their long endurance and privation.Dion had often wished to set sail with his wife for a great city inSyria or Greece, but fresh and mighty obstacles had deterred him. Aspecial danger lay in the fact that every large vessel was thoroughlysearched before it left the harbour, and it was impossible to escapefrom it without passing through the narrow straits east of the Pharos orthe opening in the Heptastadium, both of which were easily guarded. Thecalm moderation that usually distinguished the young counsellor had beentransformed into feverish restlessness, and the heart of his faithfulold monitor had also lost its poise; for an encounter between the fleetin which his sons served and that of Octavianus was speedily expected.
One day he returned from the city greatly excited. Pelusium was said tohave fallen.
When he ascended the cliff he found everything quiet. No one, not evenDione, came to meet him.
What had happened here?
Had the fugitives been discovered and dragged with his family to thecity to be thrown into prison, perhaps sent to the stone quarries?
Deadly pale, but erect and composed, he walked towards the house. Heowed to Dion and his father the greatest blessing in life, liberty, andthe foundation of everything else he possessed. But if his fears wereverified, if he was bereft of friends and property, even as a lonelybeggar he might continue to enjoy his freedom. If, for the sake of thoseto whom he owed his best possession, he must surrender the rest, it washis duty to bear fate patiently.
It was still light.
Even when he had approached very near the house he heard no sound savethe joyous barking of his wolf-hound, Argus, which leaped upon him.
He now laid his hand upon the lock of the door--but it was flung openfrom the inside.
Dion had seen him coming and, enraptured by the new happiness with whichthis day had blessed him, he flung himself impetuously on the breast ofhis faithful friend, exclaiming: "A boy, a splendid boy! We will callhim Pyrrhus."
Bright tears of joy streamed down the freedman's face and fell on hisgrey beard; and when his wife came towards him with her finger on herlips, he whispered in a tremulous voice: "When I brought them hereyou were afraid that the city people would drag us into ruin, butnevertheless you received them as they deserved to be, and--he's goingto name him Pyrrhus--and now!--What has a poor fellow like me done tohave such great and beautiful blessings fall to my lot?"
"And I--I?" sobbed his wife. "And the child, the darling littlecreature!"
This day of sunny happiness was followed by others of quiet joy, of thepurest pleasure, yet mingled with the deepest anxiety. They also broughtmany an hour in which Helena found an opportunity to show herprudence, while old Chloris and the fisherman's wife aided her by theirexperience.
Every one, down to the greybeard whose name the little one bore,declared that there had never been a lovelier young mother than Barineor a handsomer child than the infant Pyrrhus; but Dion could no longerendure to remain on the cliff.
A thousand things which he had hitherto deemed insignificant and allowedto pass unheeded now seemed important and imperatively in need of hispersonal attention. He was a father, and any negligence might be harmfulto his son.
With his bronzed complexion and long hair and beard he required littleaid to disguise him from his friends. In the garments shabby by longuse, and with his delicate hands calloused by work in the dock-yard, anyone would have taken him for a real fisherman.
Perhaps it was foolish, but the desire to show himself in the characterof a father to Barine's mother and grandparents and to Gorgias seemedworth risking a slight danger; so, without informing Barine, who was nowable to walk about her room, he set out for the city after sunset on thelast day of July.
He knew that Octavianus was encamped in the Hippodrome east ofAlexandria. The white mounds which had risen there had been recognizedas tents, even from the Serpent Island. Pyrrhus had returned in theafternoon with tidings that Antony's mounted troops had defeated thoseof Octavianus. This time the news of victory could be trusted, for thepalace at Lochias was illuminated for a festival and when Dion landedthere was a great bustle on the quay. One shouted to another that allwould be well. Mark Antony was his old self again. He had fought like ahero.
Many who yesterday had cursed him, to-day mingled their voices in theshouts of "Evoe!" which rang out for the new Dionysus, who had againproved his claim to godship.
The late visitor found the grandparents alone in the house of Gorgias.They had been informed of Barine's new happiness long before. Now theyrejoiced with Dion, and wanted to send at once for their host and futureson-in-law, who was in the city attending a meeting of the Ephebi,although he had ceased some time ago to be a member of their company.But Dion wished to greet him among the youths who had invited thearchitect to give them his aid in deciding the question of the coursethey were to pursue in the impending battle.
Yet he did not leave the old couple immediately; he was expecting twovisitors--Barine's mother and Charmian's Nubian maid who, since thebirth of little Pyrrhus, had come to the philosopher's every evening.The former's errand was to ask whether any news of the mother and childhad been received during the day; the latter, to get the letters whichshe delivered the next morning at the fish-market to her friend Pyrrhusor his sons.
Anukis was the first to appear. She relieved her sympathizing heart bya brief expression of congratulations; but, gladly as she would havelistened to the most minute details concerning the beloved young motherfrom the lips of Dion himself, she repressed her own wishes for hermistress's sake, and returned to Charmian as quickly as possible toinform her of the arrival of the unexpected guest.
Berenike bore her new dignity of grandmother with grateful joy, yetto-night she came oppressed by a grave anxiety, which was not solely dueto her power of imagining gloomy events. Her brother Arius and his sonswere concealed in the house of a friend, for they seemed threatened bya serious peril. Hitherto Antony had generously borne the philosopher noill-will on the score of his intimate relations with Octavianus; but nowthat Octavianus was encamped outside the city, the house of the manwho, during the latter's years of education, had been his mentor andcounsellor, and later a greatly valued friend, was watched, by Mardion'sorders, by the Scythian guard. He and his family were forbidden to enterthe city, and his escape to his friend had been effected under cover of
the darkness and with great danger.
The anxious woman feared the worst for her brother if Mark Antony shouldconquer, and yet, with her whole heart, she wished the Queen to gainthe victory. She, who always feared the worst, saw in imagination thefortunes of war change--and there was reason for the belief. The boldgeneral who had gained so many victories, and whom the defeat of Actiumhad only humbled, was said to have regained his former elasticity. Hehad dashed forward at the head of his men with the heroic courage offormer days--nay, with reckless impetuosity. Rumour reported that, withthe huge sword he wielded, he had dealt from his powerful charger blowsas terrible as those inflicted five-and-twenty years before when, notfar from the same spot, he struck Archelaus on the head. The statementthat, in his golden armour, with the gold helmet framing his beardedface, he resembled his ancestor Herakles, was confirmed by Charmian,who had been borne quickly hither by a pair of the Queen's swift horses.Cleopatra might need her soon, yet she had left the Lochias to questionthe father about many things concerning the young mother and her boy,who was already dear to her as the first grandson of the man whosesuit, it is true, she had rejected, but to whom she owed the deliciousconsciousness of having loved and been loved in the springtime of life.
Dion found her changed. The trying months which she had described in herletters to Barine had completely blanched her grey hair, her cheeks weresunken, and a deep line between her mouth and nose gave her pleasantface a sorrowful expression. Besides, she seemed to have been weepingand, in fact, heart-rending events had just occurred.
She had stolen away from Lochias in the midst of a revel.
Antony's victory was being celebrated. He himself presided at thebanquet. Again his head and breast were wreathed with a wealth of freshleaves and superb flowers. At his side reclined Cleopatra, robed inlight-blue garments adorned with lotus-flowers which, like the littlecoronet on her head, glittered with sapphires and pearls. Charmian saidshe had rarely looked more beautiful. But she did not add that the Queenhad been obliged to have rouge applied to her pale, bloodless cheeks.
It was touching to see Antony after his return from the battle, still inhis suit of mail, clasp her in his arms as joyously as if he had won herback, a prize of victory, and with his vanished heroic power regainedher and their mutual love. Her eyes, too, had been radiant with joy and,in the elation of her heart, she had given the horseman who, for a deedof special daring, was presented to her, a helmet and coat of mail ofsolid gold.
Yet, even before the revel began, she had been forced to acknowledgeto herself that the commencement of the end was approaching; for, a fewhours after she had so generously rewarded the man, he had deserted tothe foe. Then Antony had challenged Octavianus to a duel, and receivedthe unfeeling reply that he would find many roads to death open.
This was the language of the cold-hearted foe, secure of superior power.How sadly, too, she had been disappointed in the hope--that the veteranswho had served under Antony would desert their new commander at thefirst summons and flock to his standard!--for all her husband's effortsin this direction, spite of the bewitching power of his eloquence,failed, while every hour brought tidings of the treacherous desertionfrom his army of individual warriors and whole maniples. His foe deemedhis cause so weak that he did not even resist Mark Antony's attempts towin the soldiers by promises.
From all these signs Cleopatra now saw plainly, in her lover's victory,only the last flicker of a dying fire; but so long as it burned heshould see her follow its light.
Therefore she had entered the festal hall with the victor of the day.She had witnessed a strange festival. It began with tears and remindedCleopatra of the saying that she herself resembled a banquet servedto celebrate a victory before the battle was won. The cup-bearers hadscarcely advanced to the guests with their golden vessels when Antonyturned to them, exclaiming: "Pour generously, men; perhaps to-morrow youwill serve another master!"
Then, unlike his usual self, he grew thoughtful and murmured under hisbreath, "And I shall probably be lying outside a corpse, a miserablenothing."
Loud sobs from the cup-bearers and servants followed these words; but headdressed them calmly, assuring them that he would not take them into abattle from which he expected an honourable death rather than rescue andvictory.
At this Cleopatra's tears flowed also. If this reckless man of pleasure,this notorious spendthrift and disturber of the public peace, with hisinsatiate desires, had inspired bitter hostility, few had gained thewarm love of so many hearts. One glance at his heroic figure; one memoryof the days when even his foes conceded that he was never greaterthan in the presence of the most imminent peril, never more capableof awakening in others the hope of brighter times than amid the sorestprivations; one tone of the orator's deep, resonant voice, whichso often came from the heart and therefore gained hearts with suchresistless power; the recollection of numberless instances of the brightcheerfulness of his nature and his boundless generosity sufficientlyexplained the lamentations which burst forth at that banquet, the tearswhich flowed--tears of genuine feeling. They were also shed for thebeautiful Queen who, unmindful of the spectators, rested her noble brow,with its coronal of pearls, upon his mighty shoulder.
But the grief did not last long, for Mark Antony, shouted: "Hence withmelancholy! We do not need the larva!
[At the banquets of the Egyptians a small figure in the shape of a mummy was passed around to remind the guests that they, too, would soon be in the same condition, and have no more time to enjoy life and its pleasures. The Romans imitated this custom by sending the larva, a statuette in the form of a skeleton, to make the round of the revellers. The Greek love of beauty converted this ugly scarecrow into a winged genius.]
We know, without its aid, that pleasure will soon be over!--Xuthus,a joyous festal song!--And you, Metrodor, lead the dancers! The firstbeaker to the fairest, the best, the wisest, the most cherished, themost fervently beloved of women!" As he spoke he waved his gobletaloft, the flute-player, Xuthus, beckoned to the chorus, and the dancerMetrodor, in the guise of a butterfly, led forth a bevy of beautifulgirls, who, in the cloud of ample robes of transparent coloured bombyxwhich floated around them, executed the most graceful figures andnow hovered like mists, now flitted to and fro as if borne on wings,affording the most charming variety to the delighted spectators.
The "Comrades of Death" had again become companions in pleasure; andwhen Charmian, who did not lose sight of her mistress, noticed thesorrowful quiver of her lips and glided out of the circle of guests, thefaithful Nubian had approached to inform her of Dion's arrival.
Then--but this she concealed from her friends--she hastened to her ownapartments to prepare to go out, and when Iras opened the door to enterher rooms she went to speak to her about the night attendance upon theQueen. But her niece had not perceived her; shaken by convulsive sobs,she had pressed her face among the cushions of a couch, and theresuffered the fierce anguish which had stirred the inmost depths ofher being to rave itself out with the full vehemence of her passionatenature. Charmian called her name and, weeping herself, ripened her armsto her, and for the first time since her return from Actium her sister'sdaughter again sank upon her breast, and they held each other in a closeembrace until Charmian's exclamation, "With her, for her unto death!"was answered by Iras's "To the tomb!"
This was a word which, in many an hour of the silent night, had stirredthe soul of the woman who had been the youthful playmate of the Queenwho, with bleeding heart, sat below among the revellers at the noisybanquet and forced her to ask the question: "Is not your fate bound tohers? What can life offer you without her?"
Now, this word was spoken by other lips, and, like an echo of Iras'sexclamation, came the answer: "Unto death, like you, if she precedes usto the other world. Whatever may follow dying, nowhere shall she lackCharmian's hand and heart."
"Nor the love and service of Iras," was the answering assurance.
So they had parted, and the agitation of this fateful moment was st
illvisible in the features of the woman who had formerly sacrificed to herroyal playfellow her love, and now offered her life.
When, ere leaving Gorgias's house, she bade her friend farewell, shepressed Dion's hand with affectionate warmth and, as he accompanied herto the carriage, she informed him that, before the first encounter ofthe troops, Archibius had taken the royal children to his estate ofIrenia, where they were at present.
"Rarely has it been my fate to experience a more sorrowful hour thanwhen I beheld the Queen, her heart torn with anguish, bid them farewell. What fate is impending over the dear ones, who are so worthy ofthe greatest happiness? To see the twins and little Alexander recognizedand saved from death and insult, and your boy in Barine's arms, is thelast wish which I still cherish."
On returning to Lochias, Charmian had a long time to wait ere the Queenretired. She dreaded the mood in which she would leave the banquet. Formonths past Cleopatra had returned from the revels of the "Comrades ofDeath" saddened to tears, or in a blaze of indignation. How must thislast banquet, which began so mournfully and continued with such recklessmirth, affect her?
At last, the second hour after midnight, Cleopatra appeared.
Charmian believed that she must be the sport of some delusion, forthe Queen's eyes which, when she had left her, were full of tears, nowsparkled with the radiant light of joy and, as her friend took the crownfrom her head, she exclaimed:
"Why did you depart from the banquet so early? Perhaps it was the last,but I remember no festival more brilliant. It was like the springtime ofmy love. Mark Antony would have touched the heart of a stone statue bythat blending of manly daring and humble devotion which no woman canresist. As in former days, hours shrivelled into moments. We were againyoung, once more united. We were together here at Lochias to-night, andyet in distant years and other places. The notes of the singers, themelodies of the musicians, the figures executed by the dancers, werelost upon us. We soared back, hand in hand, to a magic world, and thefairy drama in the realms of the blessed, which passed before us indazzling splendour and blissful joy, was the dream which I loved bestwhen a child, and at the same time the happiest portion of the life ofthe Queen of Egypt.
"It began before the gate of the garden of Epicurus, and continued onthe river Cydnus. I again beheld myself on the golden barge, garlandedwith wreaths of flowers, reclining on the purple couch with roses strewnaround me and beneath my jewelled sandals. A gentle breeze swelled thesilken sails; my female companions raised their clear voices in song tothe accompaniment of lutes; the perfumes floating around us were borneby the wind to the shore, conveying the tidings that the bliss believedby mortals to be reserved for the gods alone was drawing near. And evenas his heart and his enraptured senses yielded to my sway, his mind, ashe himself confessed, was under the thrall of mine. We both felt happy,united by ties which nothing, not even misfortune, could sever. He, theruler of the world, was conquered, and delighted to obey the behests ofthe victor, because he felt that she before whom he bowed was his ownobedient slave. And no magic goblet effected all this. I breathedmore freely, as if relieved from the oppressive delusion--the fire hadconsumed it also--which had burdened my soul until a few hours ago.No magic spell, only the gifts of mind and soul which the vanquishedvictor, the woman Cleopatra, owed to the favour of the immortals, hadcompelled his lofty manhood to yield.
"From the Cydnus he brought me hither to the blissful days which wewere permitted to pass in my city of Alexandria. A thousand sunny hours,musical, echoing surges which long since dashed down the stream of Time,he recalled to life, and I--I did the same, and our memories blendedinto one. What never-to-be-forgotten moments we experienced when, withreckless mirth, we mingled unrecognized among the joyous throng! WhatOlympic delight elated our hearts when the plaudits of thousands greetedus! What joys satiated our minds and senses in our own apartments!What pure, unalloyed nectar of the soul was bestowed upon us by ourchildren--bliss which we shared with and imparted to each other untilneither knew which was the giver and which the receiver! Everythingsad and painful seemed to be effaced from the book of memory; and thechild's dream, the fairy-tale woven by the power of imagination, stoodbefore my soul as a reality--the same reality, I repeat, which I call mypast life.
"And, Charmian, if death comes to-morrow, should I say that he appearedtoo early--summoned me ere he permitted life to bestow all its bestgifts upon me? No, no, and again no! Whoever, in the last hour ofexistence, can say that the fairest dreams of childhood were surpassedby a long portion of actual life, may consider himself happy, even inthe deepest need and on the verge of the grave.
"The aspiration to be first and highest among the women of her own time,which had already thrilled the young girl's heart, was fulfilled. Theardent longing for love which, even at that period, pervaded my wholebeing, was satisfied when I became a loving wife, mother, and Queen,and friendship, through the favour of Destiny, also bestowed upon me itsgreatest blessings by the hands of Archibius, Charmian, and Iras.
"Now I care not what may happen. This evening taught me that life hadfulfilled its pledges. But others, too, must be enabled to remember themost brilliant of queens, who was also the most fervently beloved ofwomen. For this I will provide: the mausoleum which Gorgias is erectingfor me will stand like an indestructible wall between the Cleopatra whoto-day still proudly wears the crown and her approaching humiliation anddisgrace.
"Now I will go to sleep. If my awakening brings defeat, sorrow, anddeath, I have no reason to accuse my fate. It denied me one thing onlythe painless peace which the child and the young girl recognized as thechief good; yet Cleopatra will possess that also. The domain of death,which, as the Egyptians say, loves silence, is opening its doors to me.The most absolute peace begins upon its threshold--who knows where itends? The vision of the intellect does not extend far enough todiscover the boundary where, at the end of eternity--which in truth isendless--it is replaced by something else."
While speaking, the Queen had motioned to her friend to accompany herinto her chamber, from which a door led into the children's room. Anirresistible impulse constrained her to open it and gaze into the dark,empty apartment.
She felt an icy chill run through her veins. Taking a light fromthe hand of one of the maids who attended her, she went to littleAlexander's couch. Like the others, it was empty, deserted. Her headsank on her breast, the courageous calmness with which she had surveyedher whole past life failed and, like the luxuriant riot in the skyof the most brilliant hues, ere the glow of sunset suddenly yields todarkness, Cleopatra's soul, after the lofty elation of the last fewhours, underwent a sudden transition and, overwhelmed by deep, sorrowfuldepression, she threw herself down before the twins' bed, where she layweeping softly until Charmian, as day began to dawn, urged her to retireto rest. Cleopatra slowly rose, dried her eyes, and said: "My past lifeseemed to me just now like a magnificent garden, but how many serpentssuddenly stretched out their flat heads with glittering eyes and forkedtongues! Who tore away the flowers beneath which they lay concealed? Ithink, Charmian, it was a mysterious power which here, in the children'sapartment, rules so strongly the most trivial as well as the strongestemotions, it was--when did I last hear that ominous word?--it wasconscience. Here, in this abode of innocence and purity, whateverresembles a spot stands forth distinctly before the eyes. Here, OCharmian!--if the children were but here! If I could only--yet, no, no!It is fortunate, very fortunate that they have gone. I must be strong;and their sweet grace would rob me of my energy. But the light growsbrighter and brighter. Dress me for the day. It would be easier for meto sleep in a falling house than with such a tumult in my heart."
While she was being attired in the dark robes she had ordered, loudshouts arose from the royal harbour below, blended with the blasts ofthe tuba and other signals directing the movements of the fleet and thearmy, a large body of troops having been marched during the night to theneighbouring hills overlooking the sea.
The notes sounded bold and warlike. The well-armed g
alleys presenteda stately appearance. How often Cleopatra had seen unexpected eventsoccur, apparent impossibilities become possible! Had not the victoryof Octavianus at Actium been a miracle? What if Fate, like a capriciousruler, now changed from frowns to smiles? What if Antony proved himselfthe hero of yesterday, the general he had been in days of yore?
She had refused to see him again before the battle, that she might notdivert his thoughts from the great task approaching. But now, as shebeheld him, clad in glittering armour like the god of war himself, ridebefore the troops on his fiery Barbary charger, greeting them with thegay salutation whose warmth sprung from the heart and which had sooften kindled the warriors to glowing enthusiasm, she was forced to doviolence to her own feelings to avoid calling him and saying that herthoughts would follow his course. But she refrained, and when his purplecloak vanished from her sight her head drooped again. How differentin former days were the cheers of the troops when he showed himself tothem! This lukewarm response to his gay, glad greeting was no omen ofvictory.