Hypatia — or New Foes with an Old Face

  CHAPTER XVIII: THE PREFECT TESTED

  WHEN we lost sight of Philammon, his destiny had hurled him once moreamong his old friends the Goths, in search of two important elements ofhuman comfort, freedom and a sister. The former be found at once, in alarge hall where sundry Goths were lounging and toping, into the nearestcorner of which he shrank, and stood, his late terror and rage forgottenaltogether in the one new and absorbing thought--His sister might be inthat house!.... and yielding to so sweet a dream, he began fancying tohimself which of all those gay maidens she might be who had become inone moment more dear, more great to him, than all things else in heavenor earth. That fair-haired, rounded Italian? That fierce, luscious,aquiline-faced Jewess? That delicate, swart, sidelong-eyed Copt? No.She was Athenian, like himself. That tall, lazy Greek girl, then, frombeneath whose sleepy lids flashed, once an hour, sudden lightnings,revealing depths of thought and feeling uncultivated, perhaps evenunsuspected, by their possessor. Her? Or that, her seeming sister? Orthe next?.... Or--Was it Pelagia herself, most beautiful and mostsinful of them all? Fearful thought! He blushed scarlet at the bareimagination: yet why, in his secret heart, was that the most pleasanthypothesis of them all? And suddenly flashed across him that observationof one of the girls on board the boat, on his likeness to Pelagia.Strange, that he had never recollected it before! It must be so! andyet on what a slender thread, woven of scattered hints and surmises,did that 'must' depend! He would be sane! he would wait; he wouldhave patience. Patience, with a sister yet unfound, perhaps perishing?Impossible!

  Suddenly the train of his thoughts was changed perforce:--

  'Come! come and see! There's a fight in the streets,' called one of thedamsels down the stairs, at the highest pitch of her voice.

  'I shan't go,' yawned a huge fellow, who was lying on his back on asofa.

  'Oh come up, my hero,' said one of the girls. 'Such a charming riot, andthe Prefect himself in the middle of it! We have not had such a one inthe street this month.'

  'The princes won't let me knock any of these donkey-riders on thehead, and seeing other people do it only makes me envious. Give me thewine-jug--curse the girl! she has run upstairs!'

  The shouting and trampling came nearer; and in another minute Wulf camerapidly downstairs, through the hall into the harem-court, and into thepresence of the Amal.

  'Prince--here is a chance for us. These rascally Greeks are murderingtheir Prefect under our very windows.'

  'The lying cur! Serve him right for cheating us. He has plenty ofguards. Why can't the fool take care of himself?'

  'They have all run away, and I saw some of them hiding among the mob. AsI live, the man will be killed in five minutes more.'

  'Why not?'

  'Why should he, when we can save him and win his favour for ever? Themen's fingers are itching far a fight; it's a bad plan not to givehounds blood now and then, or they lose the knack of hunting.'

  'Well, it wouldn't take five minutes.'

  'And heroes should show that they can forgive when an enemy is indistress.'

  'Very true! Like an Amal too!' And the Amal sprang up and shouted to hismen to follow him.

  'Good-bye, my pretty one. Why, Wulf,' cried he, as he burst out into thecourt, 'here's our monk again! By Odin, you're welcome, my handsome boy!come along and fight too, young fellow; what were those arms given youfor?'

  'He is my man,' said Wulf, laying his hand on Philammon's shoulder,'and blood he shall taste.' And out the three hurried, Philammon, in hispresent reckless mood, ready for anything.

  'Bring your whips. Never mind swords. Those rascals are not worth it,'shouted the Amal, as he hurried down the passage brandishing his heavythong, some ten feet in length, threw the gate open, and the next momentrecoiled from a dense crush of people who surged in--and surged outagain as rapidly as the Goth, with the combined force of his weightand arm, hewed his way straight through them, felling a wretch at everyblow, and followed up by his terrible companions.

  They were but just in time. The four white blood-horses were plungingand rolling over each other, and Orestes reeling in his chariot, witha stream of blood running down his face, and the hands of twenty wildmonks clutching at him. 'Monks again!' thought Philammon and as he sawamong them more than one hateful face, which he recollected in Cyril'scourtyard on that fatal night, a flush of fierce revenge ran throughhim.

  'Mercy!' shrieked the miserable Prefect--'I am a Christian! I swear thatI am a Christian! the Bishop Atticus baptized me at Constantinople!'

  'Down with the butcher! down with the heathen tyrant, who refuses theadjuration on the Gospels rather than be reconciled to the patriarch!Tear him out of the chariot!' yelled the monks.

  The craven hound!' said the Amal, stopping short, 'I won't help him!'But in an instant Wulf rushed forward, and struck right and left; themonks recoiled, and Philammon, burning to prevent so shameful a scandalto the faith to which he still clung convulsively, sprang into thechariot and caught Orestes in his arms.

  'You are safe, my lord; don't struggle,' whispered he, while the monksflew on him. A stone or two struck him, but they only quickened hisdetermination, and in another moment the whistling of the whips roundhis head, and the yell and backward rush of the monks, told him that hewas safe. He carried his burden safely within the doorway of Pelagia'shouse, into the crowd of peeping and shrieking damsels, where twentypairs of the prettiest hands in Alexandria seized on Orestes, and drewhim into the court.

  'Like a second Hylas, carried off by the nymphs!' simpered he, as hevanished into the harem, to reappear in five minutes, his head bound ripwith silk handkerchiefs, and with as much of his usual impudence as hecould muster.

  'Your Excellency--heroes all--I am your devoted slave. I owe you lifeitself; and more, the valour of your succour is only surpassed by thedeliciousness of your cure. I would gladly undergo a second wound toenjoy a second time the services of such hands, and to see such feetbusying themselves on my behalf.'

  'You wouldn't have said that five minutes ago, quoth the Amal, lookingat him very much as a bear might at a monkey.

  'Never mind the hands and feet, old fellow, they are none of yours!'bluntly observed a voice from behind' probably Smid's, and a laughensued.

  'My saviours, my brothers!' said Orestes, politely ignoring thelaughter. 'How can I repay you? Is there anything in which my officehere enables me--I will not say to reward, for that would be a termbeneath your dignity as free barbarians--but to gratify you?'

  'Give us three days' pillage of the quarter!' shouted some one.

  'Ah, true valour is apt to underrate obstacles; you forget your smallnumbers.'

  'I say,' quoth the Amal--'I say, take care, Prefect.--If you mean totell me that we forty couldn't cut all the throats in Alexandria inthree days, and yours into the bargain, and keep your soldiers at bayall the time--'

  'Half of them would join us!' cried some one. 'They are half our ownflesh and blood after all!'

  'Pardon me, my friends, I do not doubt it a moment. I know enough of theworld never to have found a sheep-dog yet who would not, on occasion,help to make away with a little of the mutton which he guarded. Eh, myvenerable sir?' turning to Wulf with a knowing bow.

  Wulf chuckled grimly, and said something to the Amal in German aboutbeing civil to guests.

  'You will pardon me, my heroic friends,' said Orestes, 'but, with yourkind permission, I will observe that I am somewhat faint and disturbedby late occurrences. To trespass on your hospitality further would bean impertinence. If, therefore, I might send a slave to find some of myapparitors-'

  'No, by all the gods!' roared the Amal, 'you're my guest now--my lady'sat least. And no one ever went out of my house sober yet if I could helpit. Set the cooks to work, my men! The Prefect shall feast with us likean emperor, and we'll send him home to-night as drunk as he can wish.Come along, your Excellency; we're rough fellows, we Goths; but by theValkyrs, no one can say that we neglect our guests!'

  'It is a sweet compulsion,' said Orestes
, as he went in.

  'Stop, by the bye! Didn't one of you men catch a monk.?'

  'Here he is, prince, with his elbows safe behind him.' And a tall,haggard, half-naked monk was dragged forward.

  'Capital! bring him in. His Excellency shall judge him while dinner'scooking' and Smid shall have the hanging of him. He hurt nobody in thescuffle; he was thinking of his dinner.'

  'Some rascal bit a piece out of my leg, and I tumbled down,' grumbledSmid.

  'Well, pay out this fellow for it, then. Bring a chair, slaves! Here,your Highness, sit there and judge.'

  'Two chairs!' said some one; 'the Amal shan't stand before the emperorhimself.'

  'By all means, my dear friends. The Amal and I will act as the twoCaesars, with divided empire. I presume we shall have little differenceof opinion as to the hanging of this worthy.'

  'Hanging's too quick for him.'

  'Just what I was about to remark--there are certain judicialformalities, considered generally to be conducive to the stability, ifnot necessary to the existence, of the Roman empire--'

  'I say, don't talk so much,' shouted a Goth, 'If you want to have thehanging of him yourself, do. We thought we would save you trouble.'

  'Ah, my excellent friend, would you rob me of the delicate pleasure ofrevenge? I intend to spend at least four hours to-morrow in killing thispious martyr. He will have a good time to think, between the beginningand the end of the rack.'

  'Do you hear that, master monk?' said Smid, chucking him under thechin, while the rest of the party seemed to think the whole businessan excellent joke, and divided their ridicule openly enough between thePrefect and his victim.

  'The man of blood has said it. I am a martyr,' answered the monk in adogged voice.

  'You will take a good deal of time in becoming one.'

  'Death may be long, but glory is everlasting.'

  'True. I forgot that, and will save you the said glory, if I can helpit, for a year or two. Who was it struck me with the stone?'

  No answer.

  'Tell me, and the moment he is in my lictors' hands I pardon youfreely.'

  The monk laughed. 'Pardon? Pardon me eternal bliss, and the thingsunspeakable, which God has prepared for those who love Him? Tyrant andbutcher! I struck thee, thou second Dioclesian--I hurled the stone--I,Ammonius. Would to heaven that it had smitten thee through, thou Sisera,like the nail of Jael the Kenite!'

  'Thanks, my friend. Heroes, you have a cellar for monks as well as forwine? I will trouble you with this hero's psalm-singing tonight, andsend my apparitors for him in the morning.'

  'If he begins howling when we are in bed, your men won't find much ofhim left in the morning,' said the Amal. 'But here come the slaves,announcing dinner.'

  'Stay,' said Orestes; 'there is one more with whom I have an account tosettle--that young philosopher there.'

  'Oh, he is coming in, too. He never was drunk in his life, I'll warrant,poor fellow, and it's high time for him to begin.' And the Amal laida good-natured bear's paw on Philammon's shoulder, who hung back inperplexity, and cast a piteous look towards Wulf.

  Wulf answered it by a shake of the head which gave Philammon courageto stammer out a courteous refusal. The Amal swore an oath at him whichmade the cloister ring again, and with a quiet shove of his heavy hand,sent him staggering half across the court: but Wulf interposed.

  'The boy is mine, prince. He is no drunkard, and I will not let himbecome one. Would to heaven,' added he, under his breath, 'that I couldsay the same to some others. Send us out our supper here, when you aredone. Half a sheep or so will do between us, and enough of the strongestto wash it down with. Smid knows my quantity.'

  'Why in heaven's name are you not coming in?'

  'That mob will be trying to burst the gates again before two hours areout; and as some one must stand sentry, it may as well be a man who willnot have his ears stopped up by wine and women's kisses. The boy willstay with me.'

  So the party went in, leaving Wulf and Philammon alone in the outerhall.

  There the two sat for some half hour, casting stealthy glances at eachother, and wondering perhaps, each of them vainly enough, what was goingon in the opposite brain. Philammon, though his heart was full of hissister, could not help noticing the air of deep sadness which hung aboutthe scarred and weather-beaten features of the old warrior. The grimnesswhich he had remarked on their first meeting seemed to be now changedinto a settled melancholy. The furrows round his mouth and eyes hadbecome deeper and sharper. Some perpetual indignation seemed smoulderingin the knitted brow and protruding upper lip. He sat there silent andmotionless for some half hour, his chin resting on his hands, andthey again upon the butt of his axe, apparently in deep thought, andlistening with a silent sneer to the clinking of glasses and disheswithin.

  Philammon felt too much respect, both for his age and his statelysadness, to break the silence. At last some louder burst of merrimentthan usual aroused him.

  'What do you call that?' said he, speaking in Greek.

  'Folly and vanity.'

  'And what does she there--the Alruna--the prophet-woman, call it?'

  'Whom do you mean?'

  'Why, the Greek woman whom we went to hear talk this morning.'

  'Folly and vanity.'

  'Why can't she cure that Roman hairdresser there of it, then?'

  Philammon was silent--'Why not, indeed!'

  'Do you think she could cure any one of it?'

  'Of what?'

  'Of getting drunk, and wasting their strength and their fame, and theirhard-won treasures upon eating and drinking, and fine clothes, and badwomen.'

  'She is most pure herself, and she preaches purity to all who hear her.'

  'Curse preaching. I have preached for these four months.'

  'Perhaps she may have some more winning arguments--perhaps--'

  'I know. Such a beautiful bit of flesh and blood as she is might get ahearing, when a grizzled old head-splitter like me was called a dotard.Eh? Well. It's natural.'

  A long silence.

  'She is a grand woman. I never saw such a one, and I have seen many.There was a prophetess once, lived in an island in the Weser-stream--andwhen a man saw her, even before she spoke a word, one longed to crawlto her feet on all fours, and say, "There, tread on me; I am not fit foryou to wipe your feet upon." And many a warrior did it.... Perhaps I mayhave done it myself, before now .... And this one is strangely like her.She would make a prince's wife, now.'

  Philammon started. What new feeling was it, which made him indignant atthe notion?

  'Beauty? What's body without soul? What's beauty without wisdom? What'sbeauty without chastity? Best! fool! wallowing in the mire which everyhog has fouled!'

  'Like a jewel of gold in a swine's snout, so is a fair woman who iswithout discretion.'

  'Who said that?'

  'Solomon, the king of Israel.'

  'I never heard of him. But he was a right Sagaman, whoever said it. Andshe is a pure maiden, that other one?'

  'Spotless as the'--blessed Virgin, Philammon was going to say--butchecked himself. There were sad recollections about the words.

  Wulf sat silent for a few minutes, while Philammon's thoughts revertedat once to the new purpose for which alone life seemed worth having....To find his sister! That one thought had in a few hours changed andmatured the boy into the man. Hitherto he had been only the leaf beforethe wind, the puppet of every new impression; but now circumstance,which had been leading him along in such soft fetters for many a month,was become his deadly foe; and all his energy and cunning, all hislittle knowledge of man and of society, rose up sturdily and shrewdlyto fight in this new cause. Wulf was now no longer a phenomenon to bewondered at, but an instrument to be used. The broken hints which he hadjust given of discontent with Pelagia's presence inspired the boy withsudden hope, and cautiously he began to hint at the existence of personswho would be glad to remove her. Wulf caught at the notion, and repliedto it with searching questions, till Philammon, findin
g plain speakingthe better part of cunning, told him openly the whole events of themorning, and the mystery which Arsenius had half revealed, and thenshuddered with mingled joy and horror, as Wulf, after ruminating overthe matter for a weary five minutes, made answer--

  'And what if Pelagia herself were your sister?'

  Philammon was bursting forth in some passionate answer, when the old manstopped him and went on slowly, looking him through and through--

  'Because, when a penniless young monk claims kin with a woman who isdrinking out of the wine-cups of the Caesars, and filling a place fora share of which kings' daughters have been thankful--and will be againbefore long--why then, though an old man may be too good-natured to callit all a lie at first sight, he can't help supposing that the young monkhas an eye to his own personal profit, eh?'

  'My profit?' cried poor Philammon, starting up. 'Good God! what objecton earth can I have, but to rescue her from this infamy to purity andholiness?'

  He had touched the wrong chord.

  'Infamy? you accursed Egyptian slave!' cried the prince, starting up inhis turn, red with passion, and clutching at the whip which hungover his head. 'Infamy? As if she, and you too, ought not to consideryourselves blest in her being allowed to wash the feet of an Amal!'

  'Oh' forgive me!' said Philammon, terrified at the fruits of his ownclumsiness. 'But you forget--you forget, she is not married to him!'

  'Married to him? A freedwoman? No; thank Freya! he has not fallen aslow as that, at least: and never shall, if I kill the witch with my ownhands. A freedwoman!'

  Poor Philammon! And he had been told but that morning that he was aslave. He hid his face in his hands, and burst into an agony of tears.

  'Come, come,' said the testy warrior, softened at once. 'Woman's tearsdon't matter, but somehow I never could bear to make a man cry. When youare cool, and have learnt common courtesy, we'll talk more about this.So! Hush; enough is enough. Here comes the supper, and I am as hungry asLoke.'

  And he commenced devouring like his namesake' 'the gray beast of thewood,' and forcing, in his rough hospitable way, Philammon to devouralso much against his will and stomach.

  'There. I feel happier now!' quoth Wulf, at last. 'There is nothingto be done in this accursed place but to eat. I get no fighting, nohunting. I hate women as they hate me. I don't know anything indeed,that I don't hate, except eating and singing. And now, what with thosegirls' vile unmanly harps and flutes, no one cares to listen to a truerattling warsong. There they are at it now, with their caterwauling,squealing all together like a set of starlings on a foggy morning! We'llhave a song too, to drown the noise.' And he burst out with a wild richmelody, acting, in uncouth gestures and a suppressed tone of voice, thescene which the words described--

  An elk looked out of the pine forest He snuffed up east, he snuffed downwest, Stealthy and still.

  His mane and his horns were heavy with snow; I laid my arrow across mybow, Stealthy and still.

  And then quickening his voice, as his whole face blazed up into fierceexcitement--

  The bow it rattled' the arrow flew, It smote his blade-bones through andthrough, Hurrah!

  I sprang at his throat like a wolf of the wood, And I warmed my hands inthe smoking blood, Hurrah!

  And with a shout that echoed and rang from wall to wall, and pealedaway above the roofs, he leapt to his feet with a gesture and look ofsavage frenzy which made Philammon recoil. But the passion was gone inan instant, and Wulf sat down again chuckling to himself--

  'There--that is something like a warrior's song. That makes the oldblood spin along again! But this debauching furnace of a climate! no mancan keep his muscle, or his courage, or his money, or anything else init. May the gods curse the day when first I saw it!'

  Philammon said nothing, but sat utterly aghast at an outbreak so unlikeWulf's usual caustic reserve and stately self-restraint, and shudderingat the thought that it might be an instance of that daemoniacpossession to which these barbarians were supposed by Christians and byNeo-Platonists to be peculiarly subject. But the horror was not yet atits height; for in another minute the doors of the women's court flewopen, and, attracted by Wulf's shout, out poured the whole Bacchanaliancrew, with Orestes, crowned with flowers, and led by the Amal andPelagia, reeling in the midst, wine-cup in hand.

  'There is my philosopher, my preserver, my patron saint!' hiccupped he.'Bring him to my arms, that I may encircle his lovely neck with pearlsof India, and barbaric gold!'

  'For God's sake let me escape!' whispered he to Wulf, as the rout rushedupon him. Wulf opened the door in an instant, and he dashed through it.As he wen, the old man held out his hand--

  'Come and see me again, boy!--Me only. The old warrior will not hurtyou!'

  There was a kindly tone in the voice, a kindly light in the eye, whichmade Philammon promise to obey. He glanced one look back through thegateway as he fled, and just saw a wild whirl of Goths and girls,spinning madly round the court in the world-old Teutonic waltz; while,high above their heads, in the uplifted arms of the mighty Amal, wastossing the beautiful figure of Pelagia, tearing the garland from herfloating hair to pelt the dancers with its roses. And that might be hissister! He hid his face and fled, and the gate shut out the revellersfrom his eyes; and it is high time that it should shut them out fromours also.

  Some four hours more had passed. The revellers were sleeping off theirwine, and the moon shining bright and cold across the court, when Wulfcame out, carrying a heavy jar of wine, followed by Smid, a goblet ineach hand.

  'Here, comrade, out into the middle, to catch a breath of night-air. Areall the fools asleep?'

  'Every mother's son of them. Ah! this is refreshing after that room.What a pity it is that all men are not born with heads like ours!'

  'Very sad indeed,' said Wulf, filling his goblet.

  'What a quantity of pleasure they lose in this life! There they are,snoring like hogs. Now, you and I are good to finish this jar, atleast.'

  'And another after it, if our talk is not over by that time.'

  'Why, are you going to hold a council of war?'

  'That is as you take it. Now, look here, Smid. Whomsoever I cannottrust, I suppose I may trust you, eh?'

  'Well!' quoth Smid surlily, putting down his goblet, 'that is a strangequestion to ask of a man who has marched, and hungered, and plundered,and conquered, and been well beaten by your side for five-and-twentyyears, through all lands between the Wesel and Alexandria!'

  'I am growing old, I suppose, and so I suspect every one. But hearkento me, for between wine and ill-temper out it must come. You saw thatAlruna-woman?'

  'Of course.'

  'Well?'

  'Well?'

  'Why, did not you think she would make a wife for any man?'

  'Well?'

  'And why not for our Amal?'

  'That's his concern as well as hers, and hers as well as ours.'

  'She? Ought she not to think herself only too much honoured by marryinga son of Odin? Is she going to be more dainty than Placidia?'

  'What was good enough for an emperor's daughter must be good enough forher.'

  'Good enough? And Adolf only a Balt, while Amalric is a full-bloodedAmal--Odin's son by both sides?'

  'I don't know whether she would understand that.'

  'Then we would make her. Why not carry her off, and marry her to theAmal whether she chose or not? She would be well content enough with himin a week, I will warrant.'

  'But there is Pelagia in the way.'

  'Put her out of the way, then.'

  'Impossible.'

  'It was this morning; a week hence it may not be. I heard a promise madeto-night which will do it, if there be the spirit of a Goth left in thepoor besotted lad whom we know of.'

  'Oh, he is all right at heart; never fear him. But what was thepromise?'

  'I will not tell till it is claimed. I will not be the man to shamemy own nation and the blood of the gods. But if that drunken Prefectrecollects it--why let him recoll
ect it. And what is more, the monk-boywho was here to-night--'

  'Ah, what a well-grown lad that is wasted!'

  'More than suspects--and if his story is true, I more than suspecttoo--that Pelagia is his sister.'

  'His sister! But what of that?'

  'He wants, of course, to carry her off and make a nun of her.'

  'You would not let him do such a thing to the poor child?'

  'If folks get in my way, Smid, they must go down. So much the worse forthem: but old Wulf was never turned back yet by man or beast, and hewill not be now.'

  'After all, it will serve the hussy right. But Amalric?'

  'Out of sight, out of mind.'

  'But they say the Prefect means to marry the girl.'

  'He? That scented ape? She would not be such a wretch.'

  'But he does intend; and she intends too. It is the talk of the wholetown. We should have to put him out of the way first.'

  'Why not? Easy enough' and a good riddance for Alexandria. Yet if wemade away with him we should be forced to take the city too; and I doubtwhether we have hands enough for that.'

  'The guards might join us. I will go down to the barracks and try them,if you choose' to-morrow. I am a boon-companion with a good many of themalready. But after all, Prince Wulf--of course you are always right; weall know that--but what's the use of marrying this Hypatia to the Amal?'

  'Use?' said Wulf, smiting down his goblet on the pavement. 'Use? youpurblind old hamster-rat, who think of nothing but filling your owncheek-pouches!--to give him a wife worthy of a hero, as he is, in spiteof all--a wife who will make him sober instead of drunk, wise insteadof a fool, daring instead of a sluggard--a wife who can command the richpeople for us, and give us a hold here, which if once we get, let us seewho will break it! Why, with those two ruling in Alexandria, we might bemasters of Africa in three months. We'd send to Spain for the Wendels,to move on Carthage; we'd send up the Adriatic for the Longbeards toland in Pentapolis; we'd sweep the whole coast without losing a man' nowit is drained of troops by that fool Heraclian's Roman expedition; makethe Wendels and Longbeards shake hands here in Alexandria; draw lots fortheir shares of the coast' and then--'

  'And then what?'

  'Why, when we had settled Africa, I would call out a crew of pickedheroes, and sail away south for Asgard--I'd try that Red Sea thistime--and see Odin face to face, or die searching for him.'

  'Oh!' groaned Smid. 'And I suppose you would expect me to come too,instead of letting me stop halfway, and settle there among the dragonsand elephants. Well, well, wise men are like moorlands--ride as far asyou will on the sound ground, you are sure to come upon a soft place atlast. However, I will go down to the guards to-morrow, if my head don'tache.'

  'And I will see the boy about Pelagia. Drink to our plot!'

  And the two old iron-heads drank on, till the stars paled out and theeastward shadows of the cloister vanished in the blaze of dawn.