A Thorny Path — Complete
CHAPTER VI.
The sun had risen an hour since. Heron had betaken himself to hisworkshop, whistling as he went, and in the kitchen his old slave Argutiswas standing over the hearth preparing his master's morning meal. Hedropped a pinch of dill into the barley-porridge, and shook his grayhead solemnly.
His companion Dido, a Syrian, whose wavy white hair contrasted strangelywith her dark skin, presently came in, and, starting up, he hastilyinquired, "Not in yet?"
"No," said the other woman, whose eyes were full of tears. "And you knowwhat my dream was. Some evil has come to her, I am certain; and when themaster hears of it--" Here she sobbed aloud; but the slave reproved herfor useless weeping.
"You never carried her in your arms," whimpered the woman.
"But often enough on my shoulder," retorted the Gaul, for Argutis was anative of Augusta Trevirorum, on the Moselle. "Assoon as the porridge isready you must take it in and prepare the master."
"That his first fury may fall on me!" said the old woman, peevishly. "Ilittle thought when I was young!"
"That is a very old story," said Argutis, "and we both know what themaster's temper is. I should have been off long ago if only you couldmake his porridge to his mind. As soon as I have dished it I will go toseek Alexander--there is nothing to prevent me--for it was with him thatshe left the house."
At this the old woman dried her tears, and cried "Yes, only go, and makehaste. I will do everything else. Great gods, if she should be broughthome dead! I know how it is; she could bear the old man's temper andthis moping life no longer, and has thrown herself into the water.
"My dream, my dream! Here--here is the dish, and now go and find theboy. Still, Philip is the elder."
"He!" exclaimed the slave in a scornful tone. "Yes, if you want to knowwhat the flies are talking about! Alexander for me. He has his headscrewed on the right way, and he will find her if any man in Egypt can,and bring her back, alive or dead."
"Dead!" echoed Dido, with a fresh burst of sobs, and her tears fellin the porridge, which Argutis, indeed, in his distress of mind hadforgotten to salt.
While this conversation was going on the gemcutter was feeding hisbirds. Can this man, who stands there like any girl, tempting hisfavorites to feed, with fond words and whistling, and the offer ofattractive dainties, be the stormy blusterer of last night? There isnot a coaxing name that he does not lavish on them, while he fills theircups with fresh seed and water; and how carefully he moves his big handas he strews the little cages with clean sand! He would not for worldsscare the poor little prisoners who cheer his lonely hours, and whohave long since ceased to fear him. A turtle-dove takes peas, and ahedge-sparrow picks ants' eggs from his lips; a white-throat perches onhis left hand to snatch a caterpillar from his right. The huge manwas in his garden soon after sunrise gathering the dewy leaves for hisfeathered pets. But he talks and plays longest with the starling whichhis lost wife gave him. She had bought it in secret from the Bedouin whofor many years had brought shells for sale from the Red Sea, to surpriseher husband with the gift. The clever bird had first learned to callher name, Olympias; and then, without any teaching, had picked up hismaster's favorite lament, "My strength, my strength!"
Heron regarded this bird as a friend who understood him, and, like him,remembered the never-to-be-forsaken dead. For three years had the gemcutter been a widower, and he still thought more constantly and fondlyof his lost wife than of the children she had left him. Heron scratchedthe bird's knowing little head, saying in a tone which betrayed his pityboth for himself and his pet "Yes, old fellow, you would rather have asoft white finger to stroke you down. I can hear her now, when she wouldcall you 'sweet little pet,' or 'dear little creature.' We shall neitherof us ever hear such gentle, loving words again. Do you remember howshe would look up with her dear sweet face--and was it not a lovelyface?--when you called her by her name 'Olympias'? How many a time haveher rosy lips blown up your feathers, and cried, 'Well done, littlefellow! '--Ay, and she would say 'Well done' to me too, when I hadfinished a piece of work well. Ah, and what an eye she had, particularlyfor art! But now well, the children give me a good word too, now thather lips are silent!"
"Olympias!" cried the bird loudly and articulately, and the clouds thatshadowed the gem-cutter's brow lifted a little, as with an affectionatesmile he went on:
"Yes, yes; you would be glad, too, to have her back again. You call hernow, as I did yesterday, standing by her grave--and she sends you herlove.
"Do you hear, little one? Peck away at the old man's finger; he knowsyou mean it kindly, and it does not hurt. I was all alone out there, andSelene looked down on us in silence. There was rioting and shouting allround, but I could hear the voice of our dead. She was very near me, andher sad soul showed me that she still cared for me. I had taken a jar ofour best wine of Byblos under my cloak; as soon as I had poured oil onher gravestone and shed some of the noble liquor, the earth drank it upas though it were thirsty. Not a drop was left. Yes, little fellow, sheaccepted the gift; and when I fell on my knees to meditate on her, shevouchsafed replies to many of my questions.
"We talked together as we used--you know. And we remembered you, too; Igave you her love.
"You understand me, little fellow, don't you? And, I tell you, bettertimes are coming now."
He turned from the bird with a sharp movement of annoyance, for theslave-woman came in with the bowl of barley-porridge.
"You!" exclaimed Heron, in surprise. "Where is Melissa?"
"She will come presently," said the old woman, in a low and doubtfultone.
"Oh, thanks for the oracle!" said the artist, ironically.
"How you mock at a body!" said the old woman. "I meant--But eatfirst--eat. Anger and grief are ill food for an empty stomach."
Heron sat down to the table and began to eat his porridge, but hepresently tossed away the spoon, exclaiming:
"I do not fancy it, eating by myself."
Then, with a puzzled glance at Dido, he asked in a tone of vexation:
"Well, why are you waiting here? And what is the meaning of all thatnipping and tugging at your dress? Have you broken another dish? No?Then have done with that cursed head-shaking, and speak out at once!"
"Eat, eat," repeated Dido, retreating to the door, but Heron called herback with vehement abuse; but when she began again her usual complaint,"I never thought, when I was young--" Heron recovered the good temper hehad been rejoicing in so lately, and retorted: "Oh! yes, I know, I havethe daughter of a great potentate to wait on me. And if it had onlyoccurred to Caesar, when he was in Syria, to marry your sister, I shouldhave had his sister-in-law in my service. But at any rate I forbidhowling. You might have learned in the course of thirty years, that I donot eat my fellow-creatures. So, now, confess at once what is wrong inthe kitchen, and then go and fetch Melissa." The woman was, perhaps,wise to defer the evil moment as long as possible. Matters might soonchange for the better, and good or evil could come only from without. SoDido clung to the literal sense of her master's question, and somethingnote-worthy had actually happened in the kitchen. She drew a deepbreath, and told him that a subordinate of the night-watch had comein and asked whether Alexander were in the house, and where hispainting-room was.
"And you gave him an exact description?" asked Heron.
But the slave shook her head; she again began to fidget with her dress,and said, timidly:
"Argutis was there, and he says no good can come of the night-watch. Hetold the man what he thought fit, and sent him about his business."
At this Heron interrupted the old woman with such a mighty blow of hisfist on the table that the porridge jumped in the bowl, and he exclaimedin a fury:
"That is what comes of treating slaves as our equals! They begin tothink for themselves. A stupid blunder can spoil the best day! Thecaptain of the night-watch, I would have you to know, is a very greatman, and very likely a friend of Seleukus's, whose daughter Alexanderhas just painted. The picture is attracting some attention.--
Attention?What am I saying? Every one who has been allowed to see it is quitecrazy about it. Everything else that was on show in the embalmers' hallwas mere trash by comparison. Often enough have I grumbled at the boy,who would rather be anywhere than here; but, this time, I had someground for being proud to be his father! And now the captain of thewatch sends his secretary, or something of the kind, no doubt, inorder to have his portrait, or his wife's or daughter's--if he hasone--painted by the artist who did Korinna's; and his own father'sslave--it drives me mad to think of it--makes a face at the messengerand sends him all astray. I will give Argutis a lesson! But by thistime, perhaps--Just go and fetch him in." With these words Heron againdropped his spoon, wiped his beard, and then, seeing that Dido was stillstanding before him as though spellbound, twitching her slave's graygown, he repeated his order in such angry tones--though before he hadspoken to her as gently as if she were one of his own children--thatthe old woman started violently and made for the door, crouching low andwhimpering bitterly.
The soft-hearted tyrant was really sorry for the faithful old servant hehad bought a generation since for the home to which he had broughthis fair young wife, and he began to speak kindly to her, as he hadpreviously done to the birds.
This comforted the old woman so much that again she could not helpcrying; but, notwithstanding the sincerity of her tears, beingaccustomed of old to take advantage of her master's moods, she felt thatnow was the time to tell her melancholy story. First of all she would atany rate see whether Melissa had not meanwhile returned; so she humblykissed the hem of his robe and hurried away.
"Send Argutis to me!" Heron roared after her, and he returned to hisbreakfast with renewed energy.
He thought, as he ate, of his son's beautiful work, and the foolishself-importance of Argutis, so faithful, and usually, it must be owned,so shrewd. Then his eyes fell on Melissa's vacant place opposite to him,and he suddenly pushed away his bowl and rose to seek his daughter.
At this moment the starling called, in a clear, inviting tone,"Olympias!" and this cheered him, reminding him of the happy hour hehad passed at his wife's grave and the good augury he had had there.The belief in a better time at hand, of which he had spoken to the bird,again took possession of his sanguine soul; and, fully persuaded thatMelissa was detained in her own room or elsewhere by some triflingmatter, he went to the window and shouted her name; for hers, too,opened on to the garden.
And it seemed as though the dear, obedient girl had come at his bidding,for, as he turned back into the room again, Melissa was standing in theopen door.
After the pretty Greek greeting, "Joy be with you," which she faintlyanswered, he asked her, as fractiously as though he had spent hours ofanxiety, where she had been so long. But he was suddenly silent, for hewas astonished to see that she had not come from her room, but, as herdress betrayed, from some long expedition. Her appearance, too, had noneof the exquisite neatness which it usually displayed; and then--what astate she was in! Whence had she come so early in the day?
The girl took off the kerchief that covered her head, and with a faintgroan pushed her tangled hair off her temples, and her bosom heaved asshe panted out in a weary voice: "Here I am! But O, father, what a nightI have spent!"
Heron could not for a minute or two find words to answer her.
What had happened to the girl? What could it be which made her seem sostrange and unlike her self? He gazed at her, speechless, and alarmed bya hundred fearful suspicions. He felt as a mother might who has kissedher child's fresh, healthy lips at night, and in the morning finds themburning with fever.
Melissa had never been ill from the day of her birth; since she haddonned the dress of a full-grown maiden she had never altered; day afterday and at all hours she had been the same in her quiet, useful, patientway, always thinking of her brothers, and caring for him rather than forherself.
It had never entered into his head to suppose that she could alter; andnow, instead of the gentle, contented face with faintly rosy cheeks, hesaw a pallid countenance and quivering lips. What mysterious fire hadthis night kindled in those calm eyes, which Alexander was fond ofcomparing to those of a gazelle? They were sunk, and the dark shadowsthat encircled them were a shock to his artistic eye. These were theeyes of a girl who had raved like a maenad the night through. Had shenot slept in her quiet little room; had she been rushing with Alexanderin the wild Bacchic rout; or had something dreadful happened to his son?
Nothing could have been so great a relief to him as to rave and rageas was his wont, and he felt strongly prompted to do so; but there wassomething in her which moved him to pity or shyness, he knew not which,and kept him quiet. He silently followed her with his eyes while shefolded her mantle and kerchief in her orderly way, and hastily gatheredtogether the stray, curly locks of her hair, smoothed them, and boundthem round her head.
Some one, however, must break the silence, and he gave a sigh of reliefwhen the girl came up to him and asked him, in a voice so husky as togive him a fresh shock:
"Is it true that a Scythian, one of the nightwatch, has been herealready?"
Then he broke out, and it really did him good to give vent to hisrepressed feelings in an angry speech:
"There again--the wisdom of slaves! The so-called Scythian brought amessage from his master.
"The captain of the night-watch--you will see--wishes to honor Alexanderwith a commission."
"No, no," interrupted the girl. "They are hunting my brother down.I thank the gods that the Scythian should have come; it shows thatAlexander is still free."
The gem-cutter clasped his bushy hair in both hands, for it seemed tohim that the room was whirling round. But his old habits still got thebetter of him; he roared out with all the power of his mighty lungs:"What is that? What do you say? What has Alexander done? Where haveyou--both of you-been?" With two long strides the angry man came closeup to the terrified girl; the birds fluttered in their cages, and thestarling repeated his cries in melancholy tones. Heron stood still,pushing his fingers through his thick gray hair, and with a sharp laughexclaimed: "I came away from her grave full of fresh hopes for betterdays, and this is how they are fulfilled! I looked for fame, and I finddisgrace! And you, hussy! where have you spent this night--where haveyou come from? I ask you once more!"
He raised his fist and shook it close in front of Melissa's eyes.
She stood before him as pale as death, and with wide-open eyes, fromwhich the heavy tears dropped slowly, one by one, trickling down hercheeks as if they were tired. Heron saw them, and his rage melted. Hestaggered to a seat like a drunken man, and, hiding his face in hishands, moaned aloud, "Wretch, wretch that I am!" But his child's softhand was laid on his head; warm, girlish lips kissed his brow; andMelissa whispered beseechingly: "Peace, father, peace. All may yet bewell. I have something to tell you that will make you glad too; yes, Iam sure it will make you glad."
Her father shrugged his shoulders incredulously, but wanted to knowimmediately what the miracle was that could smooth his brow. Melissa,however, would not tell him till it came in its place in her story. Sohe had to submit; he drew his seat up to the table, and took up a lumpof modeling-wax to keep his restless fingers employed while he listened.She, too, sat down; she could scarcely stand.
At first he listened calmly to her narrative; and when she told himof Alexander's jest at Caesar's expense his face brightened. HisAlexandrian blood and his relish for a biting speech got the upper hand;he gave a sounding slap on his mighty leg, and exclaimed: "A cursed goodthought! But the boy forgot that when Zeus only lamed his son it wasbecause he is immortal; while Caesar's brother was as feeble a mortal asCaracalla himself is said to be at this day."
He laughed noisily; but it was for the last time that morning; forhardly had he heard the name of Zminis, and learned that it was he whohad over heard Alexander, than he threw down the wax and started to hisfeet in horror, crying:
"That dog, who dared to cast his eyes on your mother, and persecuted herlong after she had
shown him the door! That sly mischief-maker! Manya time has he set snares in our path. If he succeeds in tightening thenoose into which the boy has so heedlessly thrust his head--But firsttell me, has he caught him already, or is Alexander still at liberty?"
But no one, not even Argutis, who was still out on the search, couldtell him this; and he was now so greatly disturbed that, during the restof Melissa's narrative, he perpetually paced the room, interrupting hernow and then with questions or with outbursts of indignation. Andthen it occurred to him that he ought himself to seek his son, and heoccupied himself with getting ready to go out.
Even when she spoke of the Magian, and his conviction that thosewho know are able to hold intercourse with the souls of the dead, heshrugged his shoulders incredulously, and went on lacing his sandals.But when Melissa assured him that not she alone, but Diodoros with her,had seen the wandering soul of the departed Korinna in the train ofghosts, he dropped the straps he had bound round his ankle, and askedher who this Magian was, and where he might be found. However, she knewno more than that his name was Serapion, and she briefly described hisdignified presence.
Heron had already seen the man, and he seemed still to be thinking ofhim, when Melissa, with a blush and downcast eyes, confessed that, assoon as he was well again, Diodoros was coming to her father to ask herof him in marriage.
It was a long story before she came at last to her own concerns, but itwas always her way not to think of herself till every one else had hadhis due.
But what about her father? Had she spoken inaudibly, or was he reallyunable to-day to be glad? or what ailed him, that he paid no heed to thenews which, even for him, was not without its importance, but, without aword of consent or disapproval, merely bade her go on with her story?
Melissa called him by name, as if to wake a man from sleep, and askedwhether it were indeed possible that he really felt no pleasure in thehappy prospect that lay before her, and that she had confessed to him.And now Heron lent an ear, and gave her to understand the satisfactionof his fatherly heart by kissing her. This news, in fact, made up formuch that was evil, for Diodoros was a son-in-law after his own heart,and not merely because he was rich, or because his mother had beenso great a friend of Olympias's. No, the young man's father was, likehimself, one of the old Macedonian stock; he had seen his daughter'slover grow to manhood, and there was not in the city a youth he couldmore heartily welcome. This he freely admitted; he only regretted thatwhen she should set up house with her husband on the other side of thelake, he (Heron) would be left as lonely as a statue on its pedestal.His sons had already begun to avoid him like a leper!
Then, when he heard of what had befallen Diodoros, and Melissa wenton to say that the people who had thrown the stone at the dog wereChristians, and that they had carried the wounded youth into a large,clean dwelling, where he was being carefully attended when she hadleft him, Heron broke out into violent abuse. They were unpatrioticworshipers of a crucified Jew, who multiplied like vermin, and onlywanted to turn the good old order of things upside down. But this timethey should see--the hypocrites, who pretended to so much humanity, andthen set ferocious dogs on peaceful folk!--they should learn that theycould not fall on a Macedonian citizen without paying for it.
He indignantly refused to hear Melissa's assurance that none of theChristians had set the dog on her lover; she, however, maintainedstoutly that it was merely by an unfortunate accident that the stone hadhit Diodoros and cut his head so badly. She would not have quitted herlover but that she feared lest her prolonged absence should have alarmedher father.
Heron at last stood still for a minute or two, lost in thought, and thenbrought out of his chest a casket, from which he took a few engravedgems. He held them carefully up to the light, and asked his daughter:"If I learn from Polybius, to whom I am now going, that they havealready caught Alexander, should I venture now, do you think, to offera couple of choice gems to Titianus, the prefect, to set him free again?He knows what is good, and the captain of the watch is his subordinate."
But Melissa besought him to give up the idea of seeking out Alexander inhis hiding-place; for Heron, the gem-cutter, was known to every one,and if a man-at-arms should see him he would certainly follow him. Asregarded the prefect, he would not apprehend any one this day, for,as her father knew, Caesar was to arrive at Alexandria at noon, andTitianus must be on the spot to meet him with all his train.
"But if you want to be out of doors and doing," she added, "go to seePhilip. Bring him to reason, and discuss with him what is to be done."
She spoke with firm decision, and Heron looked with amazement at thegiver of this counsel. Melissa had hitherto cared for his comfort insilence, without expressing any opinions of her own, and submitting tobe the lightning-conductor for all his evil tempers. He did not rate hergirlish beauty very high, for there were no ugly faces in his familynor in that of his deceased Olympias. And all the other consolations sheoffered him he took as a matter of course--nay, he sometimes made them aground of complaint; for he would occasionally fancy that she wanted toassume the place of his beloved lost wife, and he regarded it as a dutyto her to show his daughter, and often very harshly and unkindly, howfar she was from filling her mother's place.
Thus she had accustomed herself to do her duty as a daughter, with quietand wordless exactitude, looking for no thanks; while he thought he wasdoing her a kindness merely by suffering her constant presence. That heshould ever exchange ideas with his daughter, or ask her opinion, wouldhave seemed to Heron absolutely impossible; yet it had come to this,and for the second time this morning he looked in her face with utteramazement.
He could not but approve her warning not to betray Alexander'shiding-place, and her suggestion that he should go to see his eldestson coincided with an unspoken desire which had been lurking in his mindever since she had told him of her having seen a disembodied soul. Thepossibility of seeing her once more, whose memory was dearer to him thanall else on earth, had such a charm, that it moved him more deeply thanthe danger of his son, who was, nevertheless, very dear to his strangelytempered heart.
So he answered Melissa coolly, as if he were telling her of a decisionalready formed:
"Of course! I meant to see Philip too; only"--and he paused, for anxietyabout Alexander again came to the front--"I can not bear to remain insuch uncertainty about the boy."
At this instant the door opened. The new-comer was Andreas, the man towhom Diodoros had advised Alexander to apply for protection and counsel;and Melissa greeted him with filial affection.
He was a freedman in her lover's family, and was the steward and managerof his master's extensive gardens and lands, which were under hisabsolute control. No one could have imagined that this man had ever beena slave; his face was swarthy, but his fine black eyes lighted it upwith a glance of firm self reliance and fiery energy. It was the lookof a man who might be the moving spirit of one of those rebellions whichwere frequent in Alexandria; there was an imperious ring in his voice,and decision in the swift gestures of his hardened but shapely hands.
For twenty years, indeed, he had ruled over the numerous slaves ofPolybius, who was an easy-going master, and an invalid from gout in hisfeet. He was at this time a victim to a fresh attack, and had thereforesent his confidential steward into the town to tell Heron that heapproved of his son's choice, and that he would protect Alexander frompursuit.
All this Andreas communicated in few and business-like words; but hethen turned to Melissa, and said, in a tone of kindly and affectionatefamiliarity: "Polybius also wishes to know how your lover is being caredfor by the Christians, and from hence I am going on to see our sickboy."
"Then ask your friends," the gem-cutter broke in, "to keep lessferocious dogs for the future."
"That," replied the freedman, "will be unnecessary, for it is not likelythat the fierce brute belongs to the community whose friendship I amproud to claim; and, if it does, they will be as much grieved over thematter as we can be."
"A Christi
an would never do another an ill turn!" said Heron, with ashrug.
"Never, so far as justice permits," replied Andreas, decisively. Then heinquired whether Heron had any message or news to send to his son; andwhen the gem-cutter replied that he had not, the freedman was about togo. Melissa, however, detained him, saying:
"I will go with you if you will allow me."
"And I?" said Heron, irritably. "It seems to me that childrenare learning to care less and less what their fathers' views andrequirements may be. I have to go to Philip. Who knows what may happenin my absence? Besides--no offense to you, Andreas--what concern has mydaughter among the Christians?"
"To visit her lover," replied Andreas, sharply. And he added, morequietly: "It will be a pleasure to me to escort her; and your Argutis isa faithful fellow, and in case of need would be of more use here than aninexperienced girl. I see no reasonable ground for detaining her, Heron.I should like afterwards to take her home with me, across the lake; itwould be a comfort to Polybius and soothe his pain to have his favoritewith him, his future daughter.--Get ready, my child."
The artist had listened with growing anger, and a swift surge of ragemade him long to give the freedman a sharp lesson. But when his glaringeye met the Christian's steady, grave gaze, he controlled himself, andonly said, with a shrug which sufficiently expressed his feeling thathe was surrendering his veto against his better judgment, addressinghimself to Melissa and ignoring Andreas:
"You are betrothed, and of age. Go, for aught I care, in obedience tohim whose wishes evidently outweigh mine. Polybius's son is your masterhenceforth."
He folded his mantle, and when the girl hastened to help him he allowedher to do it; but he went on, to the freedman: "And for aught I care,you may take her across the lake, too. It is natural that Polybiusshould wish to see his future daughter. But one thing I may ask formyself: You have slaves and to spare; if anything happens to Alexander,let me hear of it at once."
He kissed Melissa on the head, nodded patronizingly to Andreas, and leftthe house.
His soft-hearted devotion to a vision had weakened his combativeness;still, he would have yielded less readily to a man who had once been aslave, but that the invitation to Melissa released him of her presencefor a while.
He was not, indeed, afraid of his daughter; but she need not know thathe wanted Philip to make him acquainted with Serapion, and that throughhis mediation he hoped at least to see the spirit of the wife hemourned. When he was fairly out of the house he smiled with satisfactionlike a school-boy who had escaped his master.