Der Kaiser. English

  CHAPTER XXI.

  The unchained elements had raged that night with equal fury over theNile city of Besa. The citizens of this ancient town had done all theycould to give the Imperial traveller a worthy reception. The chiefstreets had been decked with ropes of flowers strung from mast to mastand from house to house, and by the harbor, close to the river shore,statues of Hadrian and his wife had been erected. But the storm toredown the masts and the garlands, and the lashed waters of the Nile hadbeaten with irresistible fury on the bank; had carried away piece afterpiece of the fertile shore, flung its waves, like liquid wedges intothe rifts of the parched land; and excavated the high bank by thelanding-quay.

  After midnight the storm was still raging with unheard-of fury; it sweptthe palm thatch from many of the houses, and beat the stream with suchviolence that it was like a surging sea. The full unbroken force of theflood beat again and again on the promontory on which stood the statuesof the Imperial couple. Shortly before the first dawn of light thelittle tongue of land, which was protected by no river wall, couldno longer resist the furious attack of the waters; huge clods of soilslipped and fell with a loud noise into the river and were followed bya large mass of the cliff, with a roar as of thunder the plateau behindsank, and the statue of the Emperor which stood upon it began to totterand lean slowly to its fall. When day broke it was lying with thepedestal still above ground, but the head was buried in the earth.

  At break of day the citizens left their houses to inquire of thefishermen and boatmen what had occurred in the harbor during the night.As soon as the storm had abated, hundreds, nay thousands, of men, womenand children thronged the landing-place round the fallen statue--theysaw the land-slip and knew that the current had torn the land from thebank and caused the mischief. Was it that Hapi, the Nile-god, was angrywith the Emperor? At any rate the disaster that had befallen the imageof the sovereign boded evil, that was clear.

  The Toparch, the chief municipal authority, at once set to work toreinstate the statue which was itself uninjured, for Hadrian mightarrive in a few hours. Numerous men, both free and slaves, crowded toundertake the work, and before long the statue of Hadrian, executedin the Egyptian style, once more stood upright and gazing with a fixedcountenance towards the harbor. Sabina's was also put back by the sideof her husband's and the Toparch went home satisfied. With him most ofthe starers and laborers left the quay, but their place was taken byother curious folks who had missed the statue from its place, where theland had fallen, and now expressed their opinions as to the mode andmanner of its fall.

  "The wind can never have overturned this heavy mass of limestone," saida ropemaker: "And see how far it stands from the broken ground."

  "They say it fell on the top of land-slip," answered a baker.

  "That is how it was," said a sailor.

  "Nonsense!" cried the ropemaker. "If the statue had stood on the groundnow carried away, it must have fallen at once into the water and havesunk to the bottom--any child can see that other powers have been atwork here."

  "Very likely," said a temple-servant who devoted himself to theinterpretation of signs: "The gods may have overset the proud image togive a warning token to Hadrian."

  "The immortals do not mix in the affairs of men in our day," said thesailor; "but in such a fearful night as this peaceful citizens remainwithin doors and so leave a fair field for Caesar's foes."

  "We are all faithful subjects," said the baker indignantly.

  "You are a pack of rebellious rabble," retorted a Roman soldier, wholike the whole cohort quartered in the province of Hermopolis, hadformerly served in Judaea under the cruel Tinnius Rufus. "Among youworshippers of beasts squabbles never cease, and as to the Christians,who have made their nests out there on the other side of the valley, saythe worst you can of them and still you would be flattering them."

  "Brave Fuscus is quite right!" cried a beggar. "The wretches havebrought the plague into our houses; wherever the disease shows itselfthere are Christian men and women to be seen. They came to my brother'shouse; they sat all night by his sick children and of course both died."

  "If only my old governor Tinnius Rufus were here," growled the soldier,"they would none of them be any better off than their own crucifiedgod."

  "Well, I certainly have nothing in common with them," replied the baker."But what is true must continue true. They are quiet, kind folks andpunctual in payment, who do no harm and show kindness to many poorcreatures."

  "Kindness?" cried the beggar, who had received alms himself from thedeacon of the church at Besa, but had also been exhorted to work. "Allthe five priests of Sekket of the grotto of Artemis have been led awayby them and have basely abandoned the sanctuary of the goddess. And isit good and kind that they should have poisoned my brother's childrenwith their potions?"

  "Why should they not have killed the children?" asked the soldier. "Iheard of the same things in Syria; and as to this statue, I will neverwear my sword again--"

  "Hark! listen to the bold Fuscus," cried the crowd. "He has seen much."

  "I will never wear my sword again if they did not knock over the statuein the dark."

  "No, no," cried the sailor positively. "It fell with the land that waswashed away; I saw it lying there myself."

  "And are you a Christian, too?" asked the soldier, "or do you supposethat I was in jest when I swore by my sword? I have served in Bithynia,in Syria, and in Judaea. I know these villains, good people. There werehundreds of Christians to be seen there who would throw away life like aworn-out shoe because they did not choose to sacrifice to the statues ofCaesar and the gods."

  "There, you hear!" cried the beggar. "And did you see a single man ofthem among the citizens who set to work to restore the statue to itsplace?"

  "There were none of them there," said the sailor, who was beginning toshare the soldier's views.

  "The Christians threw down the Emperor's statue," the beggar shouted tothe crowd. "It is proved, and they shall suffer for it. Every man whois a friend of the divine Hadrian come with me now and have them out oftheir houses."

  "No uproar!" interrupted the soldier to the furious man. "There is thetribune, he will hear you."

  The Roman officer, who now came past with a troop of soldiers toreceive the Emperor outside the city, was greeted by the crowd with loudshouting. He commanded silence and made the soldier tell him what had soviolently excited the people.

  "Very possibly," said the tribune, a sinewy and stern-looking man, who,like Fuscus, had served under Tinnius Rufus, and had risen from a sutlerto be an officer, "Very possibly--but where are your proofs?"

  "Most of the citizens helped in reerecting the statue, but theChristians held aloof from the work," cried the beggar. "There wasnot one to be seen. Ask the sailor, my lord; he was by and he can bearwitness to it."

  "That certainly is more than suspicious. This matter must be strictlyinquired into. Pay heed, you people."

  "Here comes a Christian girl!" cried the sailor.

  "Lame Martha; I know her well," interrupted the beggar. "She goes intoall the plague-stricken houses and poisons the people. She stayed threedays and three nights at my brother's turning the children's pillowstill they were carried out. Wherever she goes death follows."

  Selene, now known as Martha, paid no heed to the crowd, but with herblind brother Helios, now called John, went calmly on her way which ledfrom the raised bank down to the landing-quay. There she wished to hirea boat to take her across the stream, for in a village on the islandover against the town dwelt some sick Christians to whom she wascarrying medicines and whom she was intending to watch. For months pasther whole life had been devoted to the suffering. She had carried helpeven into heathen homes, and shrunk from neither fever nor plague. Hercheeks had gained no color, but her eyes shone with a gentler and purerlight which glorified the severe beauty of her features. As the girlapproached the captain he fixed his eyes on her, and called out:

  "Hey! pale-face--are you a Christian?"

  "Yes,
my lord," replied Selene, and she went on quietly andindifferently with her brother.

  The Roman looked after her, and as she passed by Hadrian's statue, and,as she did so, dropped her head rather lower than before, he roughlyordered her to stop and to tell him why she had averted her face fromthe statue of Caesar.

  "Hadrian is our ruler as well as yours," answered the young girl. "I amin haste for there are sick people on the island."

  "You will bring them no good!" cried the beggar. "Who knows what ishidden there in the basket?"

  "Silence!" interrupted the tribune. "They say, girl that yourfellow-believers overthrew the statue of Caesar in the night."

  "How should that be? We honor Caesar no less than you do."

  "I will believe you, and you shall prove it. There stands the statueof the divine Caesar. Come with me and worship it." Selene looked withhorror in the face of the stern man, and could not find a word of reply.

  "Well!" asked the captain, "will you come? Yes or no?"

  Selene struggled for self-possession, and when the soldier held out hishand to her she said with a trembling voice:

  "We honor the Emperor but we pray to no statue--only to our Father inHeaven."

  "There you have it!" laughed the beggar.

  "Once more I ask you," cried the tribune. "Will you worship this statue,or do you refuse to do so?"

  A fearful struggle possessed Selene's soul. If she resisted the Romanher life was in danger, and the fury of the populace would be arousedagainst her fellow-believers--if, on the other hand, she obeyed him, shewould be blaspheming God, breaking her faith to the Saviour who lovedher, sinning against the truth and her own conscience. A fearful dreadfell upon her, and deprived her of the power to lift her soul in prayer.She could not, she dared not, do what was required of her, and yet theoverweening love of life which exists in every mortal led her feet tothe base of the idol and there stayed her steps.

  "Lift up your hands and worship the divine Caesar," cried the tribune,who with the rest of the lookers-on had watched her movements with keenexcitement.

  Trembling, she set her basket on the ground and tried to withdrawher hand from her brother's; but the blind boy held it fast. He fullyunderstood what was required of his sister, he knew full well, from thehistory of many martyrs that had been told him, what fate awaited herand him if they resisted the Roman's demand; but he felt no fear andwhispered to her:

  "We will not obey his desires Martha; we will not pray to idols, we willcling faithfully to the Redeemer. Turn me away from the image, and Iwill say 'Our Father.'"

  With a loud voice and his lustreless eyes upraised to Heaven, the boysaid the Lord's prayer. Selene had first set his face towards the river,and then she herself turned her back on the statue; then, lifting herhands, she followed the child's example.

  Helios clung to her closely, her loudly uttered prayer was one with his,and neither of them saw or heard anything more of what befell them.

  The blind boy had a vision of a distant but glorious light, the maidenof a blissful life made beautiful by love, as she was flung to theground in front of the statue of Hadrian, and the excited mob rushedupon her and her faithful little brother. The military tribune triedin vain to hold back the populace, and by the time the soldiers hadsucceeded in driving the excited mob away from their victims, both theyoung hearts, in the midst of the triumph of their faith, in the midstof their hopes of an eternal and blissful life, had ceased to beat forever.

  The occurrence disturbed the captain and made him very uneasy. Thisgirl, this beautiful boy, who lay before him pale corpses, had beenworthy of a better fate, and he might be made to answer for them; forthe law forbade that any Christian should be punished for his faithwithout a judge's sentence. He therefore commanded that the dead shouldbe carried at once to the house to which they belonged, and threatenedevery one, who should that day set foot in the Christian quarter, withthe severest punishment.

  The beggar went off, shrieking and shouting, to his brother's houseto tell the mistress that lame Martha, who had nursed her daughterto death, was slain; but he gained an evil reward, for the poor womanbewailed Selene as if she had been her own child, and cursed him and hermurderers.

  Before sundown Hadrian arrived at Besa, where he found magnificent tentspitched to receive him and his escort. The disaster that had befallenhis statue was kept a secret from him, but he felt anxious and ill. Hewished to be perfectly alone, and desired Antinous to go to see thecity before it should be dark. The Bithynian joyfully embraced thispermission as a gift of the gods; he hurried through the decoratedhigh streets, and made a boy guide him from thence into the Christianquarter. Here the streets were like a city of the dead; not a door wasopen, not a man to be seen.

  Antinous paid the lad, sent him away, and with a beating heart went fromone house to another. Each looked neat and clean, and was surroundedby trees and shrubs, but though the smoke curled up from several of theroofs every house seemed to have been deserted. At last he heard thesound of voices. Guided by these he went through a lane to an open placewhere hundreds of people, men, women and children, were assembled infront of a small building which stood in the midst of a palm grove.

  He asked where dame Hannah lived, and an old man silently pointed tothe little house on which the attention of the Christians seemed to beconcentrated. The lad's heart throbbed wildly and yet he felt anxiousand embarrassed, and he asked himself whether he had not better turnback and return next morning when he might hope to find Selene alone.

  But no! Perhaps he might even now be allowed to see her.

  He modestly made his way through the throng, which had set up a song inwhich he could not determine whether it was intended to express feelingsof sadness or of triumph. Now he was standing at the gate of the gardenand saw Mary the deformed girl. She was kneeling by a covered bier andweeping bitterly. Was dame Hannah dead? No, she was alive, for at thismoment she came out of her house, leaning on an old man, pale, calm andtearless. Both came forward, the old man uttered a short prayer and thenstooping down, lifted the sheet which covered the dead.

  Antinous pushed a step forward but instantly drew two steps back--thencovering his eyes with his hand he stood as if rooted to the spot.

  There was no vehement lamentation. The old man began a discourse.All around were sounds of suppressed weeping, singing and praying butAntinous saw and heard nothing. He had dropped his hand and never tookhis eyes off the white face of the dead till Hannah once more covered itwith the sheet. Even then he did not stir.

  It was not till six young girls lifted Selene's modest bier and fourmatrons took up that of little Helios on their shoulders and the wholeassembly moved away after them, that he too turned and followed themourning procession. He looked on from a distance while the larger andthe smaller coffins were carried into a rocktomb, while the entrance wascarefully closed, and the procession dispersed some here and some there.

  At last he found himself alone and in front of the door of the vault.The sun went down, and darkness spread rapidly over hill and vale.When no one was to be seen who could observe him, he threw up his arms,clasped the pillar at the entrance of the tomb, pressed his lips againstthe rough wooden door and struck his forehead against it while his wholebody trembled with the tearless anguish of his spirit.

  For some minutes he stood so and did not hear a light step which came upbehind him. It was Mary, who had come once more to pray by the grave ofher beloved friend. She at once recognized the youth and softly calledhim by his name.

  "Mary," he answered, clasping her hand eagerly. "How did she die?"

  "Slain," she said, sadly. "She would not worship Caesar's image."

  Antinous shuddered at the words, and asked, "And why would she not?"

  "Because she was faithful to our belief, and so hoped for the mercy ofthe Saviour. Now she is a blessed angel."

  "Are you sure of that?"

  "As sure as I live in hope of meeting the martyr who rests here, againin Heaven!"

  "Mary
."

  "Leave go of my hand!"

  "Will you do me a service, Mary?"

  "Willingly, Antinous--but pray do not touch me."

  "Take this money and buy the loveliest wreath that is to be had here.Hang it on this tomb, and say as you do so--call out--, From Antinous toSelene.'"

  The deformed girl took the money he gave her and said:

  "She often prayed for you."

  "To her God?"

  "To our Redeemer, that he might give you also joy. She died for ChristJesus; now she is with him, and he will grant her prayers."

  Antinous was silent for a while, then he said:

  "Once more give me your hand, Mary, and now farewell. Will you sometimesthink of me, and pray for me too, to your Redeemer?"

  "Yes, yes, and you will not quite forget me, the poor cripple?"

  "Certainly not, you good, kind girl! Perhaps we may some day meetagain." With these words Antinous hurried down the hill and through thetown to the Nile.

  The moon had risen and was mirrored in the rough water. Just so had itsimage played upon the waves when Antinous had rescued Selene from thesea. The lad knew that Hadrian would be expecting him, still he didnot seek his tent. A violent emotion had overpowered him; he restlesslypaced up and down the river-bank rapidly reviewing in his memory themore prominent incidents of his past life. He seemed to hear again everyword of the dialogue that had taken place yesterday between Hadrianand himself. Before his inward eye he saw once more his humble home inBithynia, his mother, his brothers and sisters whom he should never seeagain. Once more he lived through the dreadful hour when he had deceivedhis beloved master and had been an incendiary. An overmastering dreadfell upon him as he thought of Hadrian's wish to put him in the place ofthe man whom the prudent sovereign had chosen as his successor--a choicethat was perhaps the direct outcome of his own crime. He, Antinous, whoto-day could not think of the morrow, who always kept out of the way ofthe discourse of grave men because he found it so hard to follow theirmeaning, he who knew nothing but how to obey, he who was never happybut alone with his master and his dreaming, far from the bustle ofthe world--he, to be burdened with the purple, with anxiety, with amountain-load of responsibility!

  No, no; the idea was unheard-of--impossible! And yet Hadrian never gaveup a wish he had once expressed in words. The future loomed beforehis soul like some overpowering foe. Suffering, unrest, and misfortunestared him in the face, turn which way he would.

  What was the hideous fatality that threatened his sovereign? It wasapproaching, it must come if no one--aye, if no one should be foundto stand between him and the impending blow, and to receive in his ownbreast--in his own heart, bared to receive the wound--the spear hurledby the vengeful god. And he--he, and he alone was the one who might dothis.

  The thought flashed into his mind like a sudden blaze of light; andif he should find the courage to devote himself to death for his dearmaster all his sins against him would be expiated; then--then--oh, howlovely a thought!--then might he not find entrance into the gates ofthat realm of bliss which Selene's prayers had opened to him? There hewould see his mother again and his father, and by and bye his brothersand sisters--but now, at once in a few minutes Her whom he loved and whohad trodden the ways of death before him.

  An exquisite sense of hope such as he had never felt before flooded hissoul. There lay the Nile--here was a boat. He gave it a strong push intothe stream and with a powerful leap, as when hunting he had often sprungfrom rock to rock, he jumped into the boat. He had just seized an oarwhen Mastor, who had been desired by the Emperor to seek him, recognizedhim in the moonlight and desired him to return with him to the tents.

  But Antinous did not obey. As he pushed out into the stream he calledout:

  "Greet my Lord from me--greet him lovingly, a thousand times, and tellhim Antinous loved him more than his life. Fate demands a victim. Theworld cannot dispense with Hadrian, but Antinous is a mere nonentity,whom none will miss but Caesar, and for him Antinous flings himself intothe jaws of death."

  "Stay-stop! hapless boy, come back!" shouted the slave, and leaping intoa boat he followed that of the Bithynian, which, impelled by strong andsteady strokes, flew away into the current.

  Mastor rowed with all his might, but he could not gain upon the boat hewas pursuing. Thus in a wild race both reached the middle of the stream.There, the slave saw Antinous fling away his oar, and an instant laterhe heard Antinous call loudly on the name of Selene, and then, inhelpless inactivity, he saw the lad glide into the waters, and the Nileswallowed in its flood the noblest and fairest of victims.