CHAPTER XXIV: LOST LAMBS
And Philammon?
For a long while he stood in the street outside the theatre, too muchmaddened to determine on any course of action; and, ere he had recoveredhis self-possession, the crowd began to pour from every outlet, andfilling the street, swept him away in its stream.
Then, as he heard his sister's name, in every tone of pity, contempt,and horror, mingle with their angry exclamations, he awoke from hisdream, and, bursting through the mob, made straight for Pelagia's house.
It was fast closed; and his repeated knocks at the gate brought only,after long waiting, a surly negro face to a little wicket.
He asked eagerly and instinctively for Pelagia; of course she had notyet returned. For Wulf he was not within. And then he took his stationclose to the gateway, while his heart beat loud with hope and dread.
At last the Goths appeared, forcing their way through the mob in a closecolumn. There were no litters with them. Where, then, were Pelagia andher girls? Where, too, was the hated figure of the Amal? and Wulf, andSmid? The men came on, led by Goderic and Agilmund, with folded arms,knitted brows, downcast eyes: a stern disgust, not unmingled with shame,on every countenance, told Philammon afresh of his sister's infamy.
Goderic passed him close, and Philammon summoned up courage to ask forWulf.... Pelagia he had not courage to name.
'Out, Greek hound! we have seen enough of your accursed race to-day!What? are you trying to follow us in?' And the young man's sword flashedfrom its sheath so swiftly, that Philammon had but just time enoughto spring back into the street, and wait there, in an agony ofdisappointment and anxiety, as the gates slid together again, and thehouse was as silent as before.
For a miserable hour he waited, while the mob thickened instead offlowing away, and the scattered groups of chatterers began to formthemselves into masses, and parade the streets with shouts of 'Down withthe heathen!' 'Down with the idolaters!' 'Vengeance on all blasphemingharlots!'
At last the steady tramp of legionaries, and in the midst of theglittering lines of armed men--oh, joy!--a string of litters!
He sprang forward, and called Pelagia's name again and again. Once hefancied he heard an answer: but the soldiers thrust him back.
'She is safe here, young fool, and has seen and been seen quite enoughto-day already. Back!'
'Let me speak to her!'
'That is her business. Ours is now to see her home safe.'
'Let me go in with you, I beseech!'
'If you want to go in, knock for yourself when we are gone. If you haveany business in the house, they will open to you, I suppose. Out, youinterfering puppy!'
And a blow of the spear-butt in his chest sent him rolling back intothe middle of the street, while the soldiers, having delivered up theircharge, returned with the same stolid indifference. In vain Philammon,returning, knocked at the gate. Curses and threats from the negro wereall the answer which he received; and at last, wearied into desperation,he wandered away, up one street and down another, struggling in vain toform some plan of action for himself, until the sun was set.
Wearily he went homewards at last. Once the thought of Miriam crossedhis mind. It was a disgusting alternative to ask help of her, the veryauthor of his sister's shame: but yet she at least could obtain for hima sight of Pelagia; she had promised as much. But then--the conditionwhich she had appended to her help! To see his sister, and yet to leaveher as she was!--Horrible contradiction! But could he not employ Miriamfor his own ends?--outwit her?--deceive her?--for it came to that. Thetemptation was intense: but it lasted only a moment. Could he defile sopure a cause by falsehood? And hurrying past the Jewess's door, hardlydaring to look at it, lest the temptation should return, he dartedupstairs to his own little chamber, hastily flung open the door, andstopped short in astonishment.
A woman, covered from head to foot in a large dark veil, stood in thecentre of the chamber.
'Who are you? This is no place for you!' cried he, after a minute'spause. She replied only by a shudder and a sob.... He caught sight,beneath the folds of the veil, of a too well-known saffron shawl, andspringing upon her like the lion on the lamb, clasped to his bosom hissister.
The veil fell from her beautiful forehead. She gazed into his eyesone moment with a look of terrified inquiry, and saw nothing there butlove.... And clinging heart to heart, brother and sister mingled holykisses, and strained nearer and nearer still, as if to satisfy theirlast lingering doubts of each other's kin.
Many a minute passed in silent joy.... Philammon dare not speak; he darenot ask her what brought her thither--dare not wake her to recollectthe frightful present by questions of the past, of his long forgottenparents, their home, her history.... And, after all, was it not enoughfor him that he held her at last?--her, there by her own will--the lostlamb returned to him?--and their tears mingled as their cheeks werepressed together.
At last she spoke.
'I ought to have known you,--I believe I did know you from the firstday! When they mentioned your likeness to me, my heart leapt upwithin me; and a voice whispered.... but I would not hear it! I wasashamed--ashamed to acknowledge my brother, for whom I had sought andlonged for years.... ashamed to think that I had a brother.... Ah, God!and ought I not to be ashamed?'
And she broke from him again, and threw herself on the floor.
'Trample upon me; curse me!--anything but part me from him!'
Philammon had not the heart to answer her; but he made an involuntarygesture of sorrowful dissent.
'No! Call me what I am!--what he called me just now!--but do not take meaway! Strike me, as he struck me!--anything but parting!'
'Struck you? The curse of God be on him!'
'Ah, do not curse him!--not him! It was not a blow, indeed!--only apush--a touch--and it was my fault--all mine. I angered him--I upbraidedhim;--I was mad.... Oh, why did he deceive me? Why did he let medance?--command me to dance?'
'Command you?'
'He said that we must not break our words. He would not hear me, when Itold him that we could deny having promised. I said that promises madeover the wine need never be kept. Who ever heard of keeping them? AndOrestes was drunk, too. But he said that I might teach a Goth to be whatI liked, except a liar.... Was not that a strange speech?.... And Wulfbade him be strong, and blest him for it.'
'He was right,' sobbed Philammon.
'Then I thought he would love me for obeying him, though I loathedit!--Oh, God, how I loathed it!.... But how could I fancy that he didnot like my doing it? Who ever heard of any one doing of their own willwhat they did not like?'
Philammon sobbed again, as the poor civilised savage artlessly opened tohim all her moral darkness. What could he say?.... he knew what to say.The disease was so utterly patent, that any of Cyril's school-childrencould have supplied the remedy. But how to speak it?--how to tell her,before all things, as he longed to do, that there was no hope of hermarrying the Amal, and, therefore, no peace for her till she left him.
'Then you did hate the--the--' said he, at last, catching at some gleamof light.
'Hate it? Do I not belong, body and soul, to him?--him only?.... Andyet.... Oh, I must tell you all! When I and the girls began topractise, all the old feelings came back--the love of being admired, andapplauded, and cheered; and dancing is so delicious!--so delicious tofeel that you are doing anything beautiful perfectly, and better thanevery one else!.... And he saw that I liked it, and despised me forit.... And, deceitful!--he little guessed how much of the pains whichI took were taken to please him, to do my best before him, to winadmiration, only that I might take it home and throw it all at hisbeloved feet, and make the world say once more, "She has all Alexandriato worship her, and yet she cares for that one Goth more than for--" Buthe deceived me, true man that he is! He wished to enjoy my smiles tothe last moment, and then to cast me off, when I had once given him anexcuse.... Too cowardly to upbraid me, he let me ruin myself, to savehim the trouble of ruining me. Oh, men, men! all alike! They lo
ve us fortheir own sakes, and we love them for love's sake. We live by love, wedie for love, and yet we never find it, but only selfishness dressedup in love's mask.... And then we take up with that, poor, fond,self-blinded creatures that we are!--and in spite of the poisoned heartsaround us, persuade ourselves that our latest asp's egg, at least, willhatch into a dove, and that though all men are faithless, our own tyrantcan never change, for he is more than man!'
'But he has deceived you! You have found out your mistake. Leave him,then, as he deserves!'
Pelagia looked up, with something of a tender smile. 'Poor darling!Little do you know of love!'
Philammon, utterly bewildered by this newest and strangest phase ofhuman passion, could only gasp out--
'But do you not love me, too, my sister?'
'Do I not love you? But not as I love him! Oh, hush, hush!--, you cannotunderstand yet!' And Pelagia hid her face in her hands, while convulsiveshudderings ran through every limb....
'I must do it! I must! I will dare every thing, stoop to everything forlove's sake! Go to her!--to the wise woman!--to Hypatia! She loves you!I know that she loves you! She will hear you, though she will not me!'
'Hypatia? Do you know that she was sitting there unmoved at--in thetheatre?'
'She was forced! Orestes compelled her! Miriam told me so. And I saw itin her face. As I passed beneath her, I looked up; and she was as paleas ivory, trembling in every limb. There was a dark hollow round hereyes--she had been weeping, I saw. And I sneered in my mad self-conceit,and said, "She looks as if she was going to be crucified, not married!".But now, now!--Oh, go to her! Tell her that I will give her all Ihave--jewels, money, dresses, house! Tell her that I--I--entreather pardon, that I will crawl to her feet myself and ask it, if sherequires!--Only let her teach me--teach me to be wise and good,and honoured, and respected, as she is! Ask her to tell a poorbroken-hearted woman her secret. She can make old Wulf, and him, andOrestes even, and the magistrates, respect her.... Ask her to teach mehow to be like her, and to make him respect me again, and I will giveher all--all!'
Philammon hesitated. Something within warned him, as the Daemon usedto warn Socrates, that his errand would be bootless. He thought of thetheatre, and of that firm, compressed lip; and forgot the hollow eye ofmisery which accompanied it, in his wrath against his lately-worshippedidol.
'Oh, go! go! I tell you it was against her will. She felt for me--I sawit--Oh, God! when I did not feel for myself! And I hated her, becauseshe seemed to despise me in my fool's triumph! She cannot despise menow in my misery.... Go! Go! or you will drive me to the agony of goingmyself.'
There was but one thing to be done.
'You will wait, then, here? You will not leave me again?'
'Yes. But you must be quick! If he finds out that I am away, he mayfancy.... Ah, heaven! let him kill me, but never let him be jealous ofme! Go now! this moment! Take this as an earnest--the cestus which Iwore there. Horrid thing! I hate the sight of it! But I brought it withme on purpose, or I would have thrown it into the canal. There; say itis an earnest--only an earnest--of what I will give her!'
In ten minutes more Philammon was in Hypatia's hall. The householdseemed full of terror and disturbance; the hall was full of soldiers. Atlast Hypatia's favourite maid passed, and knew him. Her mistress couldnot speak with any one. Where was Theon, then? He, too, had shut himselfup. Never mind. Philammon must, would speak with him. And he pleadedso passionately and so sweetly, that the soft-hearted damsel, unable toresist so handsome a suppliant, undertook his errand, and led him upto the library, where Theon, pale as death, was pacing to and fro,apparently half beside himself with terror.
Philammon's breathless message fell at first upon unheeding ears.
'A new pupil, sir! Is this a time for pupils; when my house, mydaughter's life, is not safe? Wretch that I am! And have I led her intothe snare? I, with my vain ambition and covetousness! Oh, my child! mychild! my one treasure! Oh, the double curse which will light upon me,if--'
'She asks for but one interview.'
'With my daughter, sir? Pelagia! Will you insult me? Do you suppose,even if her own pity should so far tempt her to degrade herself, that Icould allow her so to contaminate her purity?'
'Your terror, sir, excuses your rudeness.'
'Rudeness, sir? the rudeness lies in your intruding on us at such amoment!'
'Then this, perhaps, may, in your eyes at least, excuse me in my turn.'And Philammon held out the cestus. 'You are a better judge of its valuethan I. But I am commissioned to say, that it is only an earnest of whatshe will give willingly and at once, even to the half of her wealth, forthe honour of becoming your daughter's pupil.' And he laid the jewelledgirdle on the table.
The old man halted in his walk. The emeralds and pearls shone like thegalaxy. He looked at them; and walked on again more slowly.... Whatmight be their value? What might it not be? At least, they would pay allhis debts.... And after hovering to and fro for another minute beforethe bait, he turned to Philammon.
'If you would promise to mention the thing to no one--'
'I will promise.'
'And in case my daughter, as I have a right to expect, shall refuse--'
'Let her keep the jewels. Their owner has learnt, thank God, to despiseand hate them! Let her keep the jewels--and my curse! For God do so tome, and more also, if I ever see her face again!'
The old man had not heard the latter part of Philammon's speech. He hadseized his bait as greedily as a crocodile, and hurried off with it intoHypatia's chamber, while Philammon stood expectant; possessed with a newand fearful doubt. 'Degrade herself!' 'Contaminate her purity!' Ifthat notion were to be the fruit of all her philosophy? If selfishness,pride, Pharisaism, were all its outcome? Why--had they not been itsoutcome already? When had he seen her helping, even pitying, the poor,the outcast? When had he heard from her one word of real sympathy forthe sorrowing; for the sinful?.... He was still lost in thought whenTheon re-entered, bringing a letter.
'_From Hypatia to her well-beloved pupil_.
'I pity you--how should I not? And more. I thank you for this yourrequest, for it shows me that my unwilling presence at the hideouspageant of to-day has not alienated from me a soul of which I hadcherished the noblest hopes, for which I had sketched out theloftiest destiny. But how shall I say it? Ask yourself whether achange--apparently impossible--must not take place in her for whom youplead, before she and I can meet. I am not so inhuman as to blame youfor having asked me; I do not even blame her for being what she is. Shedoes but follow her nature; who can be angry with her, if destiny haveinformed so fair an animal with a too gross and earthly spirit? Why weepover her? Dust she is, and unto dust she will return: while you, towhom a more divine spark was allotted at your birth, must rise, andunrepining, leave below you one only connected with you by the unrealand fleeting bonds of fleshly kin.'
Philammon crushed the letter together in his hand, and strode fromthe house without a word. The philosopher had no gospel, then, for theharlot! No word for the sinner, the degraded! Destiny forsooth! She wasto follow her destiny, and be base, miserable, self-condemned. She wasto crush the voice of conscience and reason, as often as it awoke withinher, and compel herself to believe that she was bound to be that whichshe knew herself bound not to be. She was to shut her eyes to thatpresent palpable misery which was preaching to her, with the voice ofGod Himself, that the wages of sin are death. Dust she was, and untodust she will return! Oh, glorious hope for her, for him, who felt asif an eternity of bliss would be worthless, if it parted him from hisnew-found treasure! Dust she was, and unto dust she must return!
Hapless Hypatia! If she must needs misapply, after the fashion of herschool, a text or two here and there from the Hebrew Scriptures, whatsuicidal fantasy set her on quoting that one? For now, upon Philammon'smemory flashed up in letters of light, old words forgotten formonths--and ere he was aware, he found himself repeating aloud andpassionately, 'I believe in the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection ofthe b
ody, and the life everlasting,'.... and then clear and fairarose before him the vision of the God-man, as He lay at meat in thePharisee's house; and of her who washed His feet with tears, and wipedthem with the hairs of her head.... And from the depths of his agonisedheart arose the prayer, 'Blessed Magdalene, intercede for her?'
So high he could rise, but not beyond. For the notion of that God-manwas receding fast to more and more awful abysmal heights, in theminds of a generation who were forgetting His love in His power, andpractically losing sight of His humanity in their eager doctrinalassertion of His Divinity. And Philammon's heart re-echoed the spiritof his age, when he felt that for an apostate like himself it werepresumptuous to entreat for any light or help from the fountain-headitself. He who had denied his Lord, he who had voluntarily cut himselfoff from the communion of the Catholic Church--how could he restorehimself? How could he appease the wrath of Him who died on the cross,save by years of bitter supplication and self-punishment?....
'Fool! Vain and ambitious fool that I have been! For this I threw awaythe faith of my childhood! For this I listened to words at which Ishuddered; crushed down my own doubts and disgusts; tried to persuademyself that I could reconcile them with Christianity--that I could makea lie fit into the truth! For this I puffed myself up in the vain hopeof becoming not as other men are--superior, forsooth, to my kind! It wasnot enough for me to be a man made in the image of God: but I must needsbecome a god myself, knowing good and evil.--And here is the end! I callupon my fine philosophy to help me once, in one real practical humanstruggle, and it folds its arms and sits serene and silent, smiling uponmy misery! Oh! fool, fool, thou art filled with the fruit of thy owndevices! Back to the old faith! Home again, then wanderer! And yet howhome? Are not the gates shut against me? Perhaps against her too....What if she, like me, were a baptized Christian?'
Terrible and all but hopeless that thought flashed across him, as in thefirst revulsion of his conscience he plunged utterly and implicitlyback again into the faith of his childhood, and all the dark and crueltheories popular in his day rose up before him in all their terrors. Inthe innocent simplicity of the Laura he had never felt their force; buthe felt them now. If Pelagia were a baptized woman, what was before herbut unceasing penance? Before her, as before him, a life of coldand hunger, groans and tears, loneliness and hideous soul-sickeninguncertainty. Life was a dungeon for them both henceforth. Be it so!There was nothing else to believe in. No other rock of hope in earthor heaven. That at least promised a possibility of forgiveness, ofamendment, of virtue, of reward--ay, of everlasting bliss and glory; andeven if she missed of that, better for her the cell in the desert thana life of self-contented impurity! If that latter were her destiny, asHypatia said, she should at least die fighting against it, defying it,cursing it! Better virtue with hell, than sin with heaven! And Hypatiahad not even promised her a heaven. The resurrection of the flesh wastoo carnal a notion for her refined and lofty creed. And so, his fourmonths' dream swept away in a moment, he hurried back to his chamber,with one fixed thought before him--the desert; a cell for Pelagia;another for himself. There they would repent, and pray, and mourn outlife side by side, if perhaps God would have mercy upon their souls.Yet--perhaps, she might not have been baptized after all. And thenshe was safe. Like other converts from Paganism, she might become acatechumen, and go on to baptism, where the mystic water would washaway in a moment all the past, and she would begin life afresh, in thespotless robes of innocence. Yet he had been baptized, he knew fromArsenius, before he left Athens; and she was older than he. It wasall but impossible yet he would hope; and breathless with anxietyand excitement, he ran up the narrow stairs and found Miriam standingoutside, her hand upon the bolt, apparently inclined to dispute hispassage.
'Is she still within?'
'What if she be?'
'Let me pass into my own room.'
'Yours? Who has been paying the rent for you, these four months past?You! What can you say to her? What can you do for her? Young pedant, youmust be in love yourself before you can help poor creatures who are inlove!'
But Philammon pushed past her so fiercely, that the old woman wasforced to give way, and with a sinister smile she followed him into thechamber.
Pelagia sprang towards her brother.
'Will she?--will she see me?'
'Let us talk no more of her, my beloved,' said Philammon, laying hishands gently on her trembling shoulders, and looking earnestly intoher eyes.... 'Better that we two should work out our deliverance forourselves, without the help of strangers. You can trust me?'
'You? And can you help me? Will you teach me?'
'Yes, but not here.... We must escape--Nay, hear me, one moment! dearestsister, hear me! Are you so happy here that you can conceive of nobetter place? And--and, oh, God! that it may not be true after all!--butis there not a hell hereafter?'
Pelagia covered her face with her hands--'The old monk warned me of it!'
'Oh, take his warning....' And Philammon was bursting forth withsome such words about the lake of fire and brimstone as he had beenaccustomed to hear from Pambo and Arsenius, when Pelagia interruptedhim-- 'Oh, Miriam! Is it true? Is it possible? What will become of me?'almost shrieked the poor child.
'What if it were true?--Let him tell you how he will save you from it,'answered Miriam quietly.
'Will not the Gospel save her from it--unbelieving Jew? Do notcontradict me! I can save her.'
'If she does what?'
'Can she not repent? Can she not mortify these base affections? Canshe not be forgiven? Oh, my Pelagia! forgive me for having dreamed onemoment that I could make you a philosopher, when you may be a saint ofGod, a--'
He stopped short suddenly, as the thought about baptism flashed acrosshim, and in a faltering voice asked, 'Are you baptized?'
'Baptized?' asked she, hardly understanding the term.
'Yes--by the bishop--in the church.'
'Ah,' she said, 'I remember now.... When I was four or five yearsodd.... A tank, and women undressing.... And I was bathed too, and anold man dipped my head under the water three times.... I have forgottenwhat it all meant--it was so long ago. I wore a white dress, I know,afterwards.'
Philammon recoiled with a groan.
'Unhappy child! May God have mercy on you!'
'Will He not forgive me, then? You have forgiven me. He?--He must bemore good even than you.--Why not?'
'He forgave you then, freely, when you were baptized: and there is nosecond pardon unless--
'Unless I leave my love!' shrieked Pelagia.
'When the Lord forgave the blessed Magdalene freely, and told herthat her faith had saved her--did she live on in sin, or even in thepleasures of this world? No! though God had forgiven her, she could notforgive herself. She fled forth into the desert, and there, naked andbarefoot, clothed only with her hair, and feeding on the herb of thefield, she stayed fasting and praying till her dying day, never seeingthe face of man, but visited and comforted by angels and archangels. Andif she, she who never fell again, needed that long penance to work outher own salvation--oh, Pelagia, what will not God require of you, whohave broken your baptismal vows, and defiled the white robes, which thetears of penance only can wash clean once more?'
'But I did not know! I did not ask to be baptized! Cruel, cruel parents,to bring me to it! And God! Oh, why did He forgive me so soon? And to gointo the deserts! I dare not! I cannot! See me, how dedicate and tenderI am! I should die of hunger and cold! I should go mad with fear andloneliness! Oh! brother, brother, is this the Gospel of the Christians?I came to you to be taught how to be wise, and good, and respected, andyou tell me that all I can do is to live this horrible life of torturehere, on the chance of escaping torture forever! And how do I know thatI shall escape it? How do I know that I shall make myself miserableenough? How do I know that He will forgive me after all? Is this true,Miriam? Tell me, or I shall go mad!'
'Yes,' said Miriam, with a quiet sneer. 'This is the gospel and goodnews of salvation, accordin
g to the doctrine of the Nazarenes.'
'I will go with you!' cried Philammon. 'I will go! I will never leaveyou! I have my own sins to wash away!--Happy for me if I ever doit!--And I will build you a cell near mine, and kind men will teach us,and the will pray together night and morning, for ourselves and for eachother, and weep out our weary lives together--'
'Better end them here, at once!' said Pelagia, with a gesture ofdespair, and dashed herself down on the floor.
Philammon was about to lift her up, when Miriam caught him by the arm,and in a hurried whisper--'Are you mad? Will you ruin your own purpose?Why did you tell her this? Why did you not wait--give her hope--timeto collect herself--time to wean herself from her lover, instead ofterrifying and disgusting her at the outset, as you have done? Have youa man's heart in you? No word of comfort for that poor creature, nothingbut hell, hell, hell--See to your own chance of hell first! It isgreater than you fancy!'
'It cannot be greater than I fancy!'
'Then see to it. For her, poor darling!--why, even we Jews, who knowthat all you Gentiles are doomed to Gehenna alike, have some sort ofhope for such a poor untaught creature as that.'
'And why is she untaught? Wretch that you are. You have had thetraining of her! You brought her up to sin and shame! You drove from herrecollection the faith in which she was baptized!'
'So much the better for her, if the recollection of it is to make herno happier than it does already. Better to wake unexpectedly in Gehennawhen you die, than to endure over and above the dread of it here. Andas for leaving her untaught, on your own showing she has been taught toomuch already. Wiser it would be in you to curse your parents for havinghad her baptized, than me for giving her ten years' pleasure before shegoes to the pit of Tophet. Come now, don't be angry with me. The oldJewess is your friend, revile her as you will. She shall marry thisGoth.'
'An Arian heretic!'
'She shall convert him and make a Catholic of him, if you like. At allevents, if you wish to win her, you must win her my way. You have hadyour chance, and spoiled it. Let me have mine. Pelagia, darling! Up, andbe a woman! We will find a philtre downstairs to give that ungratefulman, that shall make him more mad about you, before a day is over, thanever you were about him.'
'No!' said Pelagia, looking up. 'No love-potions! No poisons!'
'Poisons, little fool! Do you doubt the old woman's skill? Do you thinkI shall make him lose his wits, as Callisphyra did to her lover lastyear, because she would trust to old Megaera's drugs, instead of comingto me!'
'No! No drugs; no magic! He must love me really, or not at all! Hemust love me for myself, because I am worth loving, because he honours,worships me, or let me die. I, whose boast was, even when I was basest,that I never needed such mean tricks, but conquered like Aphrodite, aqueen in my own right! I have been my own love-charm: when I cease to bethat, let me die!'
'One as mad as the other!' cried Miriam, in utter perplexity. 'Hist!what is that tramp upon the stairs?'
At this moment heavy footsteps were heard ascending the stairs.... Allthree stopped aghast: Philammon, because he thought the visitors weremonks in search of him; Miriam, because she thought they were Orestes'sguards in search of her; and Pelagia, from vague dread of anything andeverything....
'Have you an inner room?' asked the Jewess.
'None.'
The old woman set her lips firmly, and drew her dagger. Pelagia wrappedher face in her cloak, and stood trembling, bowed down, as if expectinganother blow. The door opened, and in walked, neither monks nor guard,but Wulf and Smid.
'Heyday, young monk!' cried the latter worthy, with a loud laugh--'Veilshere, too, eh? At your old trade, my worthy portress of hell-gate? Well,walk out now; we have a little business with this young gentleman.'
And slipping past the unsuspecting Goths, Pelagia and Miriam hurrieddownstairs.
'The young one, at least, seems a little ashamed of her errand.... Now,Wulf, speak low; and I will see that no one is listening at the door.'
Philammon faced his unexpected visitors with a look of angry inquiry.What right had they, or any man, to intrude at such a moment on hismisery and disgrace?.... But he was disarmed the next instant by oldWulf, who advanced to him, and looking him fully in the face with anexpression which there was no mistaking, held out his broad, brown hand.
Philammon grasped it, and then covering his face with his hands, burstinto tears.
'You did right. You are a brave boy. If you had died, no man need havebeen ashamed to die your death.'
'You were there, then?' sobbed Philammon.
'We were.'
'And what is more,' said Smid, as the poor boy writhed at the admission,'we were mightily minded, some of us, to have leapt down to you and cutyou a passage out. One man, at least, whom I know of, felt his old bloodas hot for the minute as a four-year-old's. The foul curs! And to hoother, after all! Oh that I may have one good hour's hewing at them beforeI die!'
'And you shall!' said Wulf. 'Boy, you wish to get this sister of yoursinto your power?'
'It is hopeless--hopeless! She will never leave her--the Amal.'
'Are you so sure of that?'
'She told me so with her own lips not ten minutes ago. That was she whowent out as you entered!'
A curse of astonishment and regret burst from Smid....
'Had I but known her! By the soul of my fathers, she should have foundthat it was easier to come here than to go home again!'
'Hush, Smid! Better as it is. Boy, if I put her into your power, dareyou carry her off?'
Philammon hesitated one moment.
'What I dare you know already. But it would be an unlawful thing,surely, to use violence.'
'Settle your philosopher's doubts for yourself. I have made my offer. Ishould have thought that a man in his senses could give but one answer,much more a mad monk.'
'You forget the money matters, prince,' said Smid, with a smile.
'I do not. But I don't think the boy so mean as to hesitate on thataccount.'
'He may as well know, however, that we promise to send all her trumperyafter her, even to the Amal's presents. As for the house, we won'ttrouble her to lend it us longer than we can help. We intend shortly tomove into more extensive premises, and open business on a grander scale,as the shopkeepers say,--eh, prince?'
'Her money?--That money? God forgive her!' answered Philammon. 'Do youfancy me base enough to touch it? But I am resolved. Tell me what to do,and I will do it.'
'You know the lane which runs down to the canal, under the left wall ofthe house?'
'Yes.'
'And a door in the corner tower, close to the landing-place?' 'I do.'
'Be there, with a dozen stout monks, to-morrow, an hour after sundown,and take what we give you. After that, the concern is yours, not ours.'
'Monks?' said Philammon. 'I am at open feud with the whole order.'
'Make friends with them, then,' shortly suggested Smid.
Philammon writhed inwardly. 'It makes no difference to you, I presume,whom I bring?'
'No more than it does whether or not you pitch her into the canal, andput a hurdle over her when you have got her,' answered Smid; 'which iswhat a Goth would do, if he were in your place.'
'Do not vex the poor lad, friend. If he thinks he can mend her insteadof punishing her, in Freya's name, let him try. You will be there, then?And mind, I like you. I liked you when you faced that great river-hog.I like you better now than ever; for you have spoken to-day like aSagaman, and dared like a hero. Therefore mind; if you do not bring agood guard to-morrow night, your life will not be safe. The whole cityis out in the streets; and Odin alone knows what will be done, and whowill be alive, eight-and-forty hours hence. Mind you!--The mob may dostrange things, and they may see still stranger things done. If you oncefind yourself safe back here, stay where you are, if you value her lifeor your own. And--if you are wise, let the men whom you bring with yoube monks, though it cost your proud stomach--'
'That's not fai
r, prince! You are telling too much!' interrupted Smid,while Philammon gulped down the said proud stomach, and answered, 'Be itso!'
'I have won my bet, Smid,' said the old man, chuckling, as the twotramped out into the street, to the surprise and fear of all theneighbours, while the children clapped their hands, and the streetdogs felt it their duty to bark lustily at the strange figures of theirunwonted visitors.
'No play, no pay, Wulf. We shall see to-morrow.'
'I knew that he would stand the trial! I knew he was right at heart!'
'At all events, there is no fear of his ill-using the poor thing, ifhe loves her well enough to go down on his knees to his sworn foes forher.'
'I don't know that,' answered Wulf, with a shake of the head. 'Thesemonks, I hear, fancy that their God likes them the better the moremiserable they are: so, perhaps they may fancy that he will like themall the more, the more miserable they make other people. However, it'sno concern of ours.'
'We have quite enough of our own to see to just now. But mind, no play,no pay.'
'Of course not. How the streets are filling! We shall not be able to seethe guards to-night, if this mob thickens much more.'
'We shall have enough to do to hold our own, perhaps. Do you hear whatthey are crying there? "Down with all heathens! Down with barbarians!"That means us, you know.'
'Do you fancy no one understands Greek but yourself? Let them come ....It may give us an excuse.... And we can hold the house a week.'
'But how can we get speech of the guards?'
'We will slip round by water. And, after all, deeds will win them betterthan talk. They will be forced to fight on the same side as we, and mostprobably be glad of our help; for if the mob attacks any one, it willbegin with the Prefect.'
'And then--Curse their shouting! Let the soldiers once find our Amalat their head, and they will be ready to go with him a mile, where theymeant to go a yard.'
'The Goths will, and the Markmen, and those Dacians, and Thracians, orwhatever the Romans call them. But I hardly trust the Huns.'
'The curse of heaven on their pudding faces and pigs' eyes! There willbe no love lost between us. But there are not twenty of them scatteredin different troops; one of us can thrash three of them; and they willbe sure to side with the winning party. Besides, plunder, plunder,comrade! When did you know a Hun turn back from that, even if he wereonly on the scent of a lump of tallow?'
'As for the Gauls and Latins,'.... went on Wulf meditatively, 'theybelong to any man who can pay them.'....
'Which we can do, like all wise generals, one penny out of our ownpocket, and nine out of the enemy's. And the Amal is staunch?'
'Staunch as his own hounds, now there is something to be done on thespot. His heart was in the right place after all. I knew it all along.But he could never in his life see four-and-twenty hours before him.Even now if that Pelagia gets him under her spell again, he may throwdown his sword, and fall as fast asleep as ever.'
'Never fear; we have settled her destiny for her, as far as that isconcerned. Look at the mob before the door! We must get in by thepostern-gate.'
'Get in by the sewer, like a rat! I go my own way. Draw, old hammer andtongs! or run away!'
'Not this time.' And sword in hand, the two marched into the heart ofthe crowd, who gave way before them like a flock of sheep.
'They know their intended shepherds already,' said Smid. But at thatmoment the crowd, seeing them about to enter the house, raised a yell of'Goths! Heathens! Barbarians!' and a rush from behind took place.
'If you will have it, then!' said Wulf. And the two long bright bladesflashed round and round their heads, redder and redder every time theyswung aloft.... The old men never even checked their steady walk, andknocking at the gate, went in, leaving more than one lifeless corpse atthe entrance.
'We have put the coal in the thatch, now, with a vengeance,' said Smid,as they wiped their swords inside.
'We have. Get me out a boat and half a dozen men, and I and Goderic willgo round by the canal to the palace, and settle a thing or two with theguards.'
'Why should not the Amal go, and offer our help himself to the Prefect?'
'What? Would you have him after that turn against the hound? For trothand honour's sake, he must keep quiet in the matter.'
'He will have no objection to keep quiet--trust him for that! Butdon't forget Sagaman Moneybag, the best of all orators,' called Smidlaughingly after him, as he went off to man the boat.