VI.
ALLIES.
Night had come again, before Marcia could arouse herself from the deepsleep with which exhaustion of mind and body had overwhelmed her. Sheremembered the scenes of the banquet as the phantasms of adream--strange and terrible; for her thoughts were slow to gather thethreads and weave the woof. Only a feeling of failure, of fruitlessabasement, was ever present. Hannibal had admired her, but, proofagainst any controlling attraction, he had put her words aside withlittle short of contempt. A dread, even, lest the strange acumen ofthis wonderful man had pierced her mask, and that her very motive andmission were already suspected, was not lacking to add dismay todiscouragement. Such thoughts were but wretched company, and theybrought with them a vague conception of her own vain egotism inimagining the possibility of other outcome. She tried to sleep again,but could not. What mattered it though, by some shifting of hours, herday had become night and her night day! She must arise and talk withsome one, if it were only the host whom she so heartily despised.
Attendants entered at her summons, and the refreshment of the bath andthe labour of the toilet were once more passed through. Then,dismissing the slaves, she walked out alone into the garden and satdown on a softly cushioned seat of carved marble. A fountain plashedsoothingly in the foliage near by, the stars were shining again, while,from without, the jarring sounds of the city came to her ears.
How long she sat, awake yet thinking of nothing, dull and dazed, shecould not tell. Then she was aroused by a sandalled step upon thepavement. A man was standing before her, whose face, despite itsyouthful contours, was deep-lined and melancholy. He was short ofstature and slenderly though gracefully built, and his black curlsclustered over brow and eyes that seemed rather those of a poet or adreamer than of a man of action. In the sombre, dark blue garments ofmourning, without ornaments or jewels, so different from the gaybanqueting robes in which she had last seen him, Marcia gazed a moment,before she recognized Perolla, the son of Pacuvius.
"You are not pretty to-night, Scylla," he said tauntingly, "though youleft us early. There are dark circles under the eyes that lookedkindly at the enemy of your country."
Marcia flushed crimson, and he went on: "Yes; I watched you smiling andogling, but it will take greater traitors than you to snare him. He islike Minos, in that he did not reach out to take from your hands thepurple lock shorn from your father's head: he is not like himotherwise: he is not just, and he will not give honourable terms."
"You, at least, are faithful to Rome?" said Marcia, slowly, andignoring his insults.
"Can you ask?" he answered; "is it that you wish to betray me? Well,then, know truly that I have betrayed myself to your heart's content.Do you not see the mourning garments I wear for my city's faithlessnessand for her coming ruin? Have you not heard how my father dragged mefrom the side of Decius Magius in the market place that I might attendthe banquet?--ah! but you have not heard how I had planned to startlethem all."
Marcia began to wonder whether she was talking with a madman.
"Shall I tell?"
She made a sign of assent.
"It was toward evening--they have but just risen from the tables now.Then, it was to seek the red feathers for the third time; but I led myfather back among the rose bushes and showed him a sword which I hadgirt to my side, beneath my tunic. 'This,' said I, 'shall win uspardon from Rome. Look you, when we return, I will plunge it into theCarthaginian's breast.'"
Marcia bent forward eagerly.
"And then," he went on, "my father bound my arms to my sides, with hisown around me, and wept and talked of our recent pledges to theseforeigners. 'Can they outweigh our ancient pledges to Rome?' Ianswered. So he pleaded how the attendants would surely cut me down,and mentioned Hannibal's look, which he affirmed I would not be able toconfront; but I laughed and made little of these things. Then he spokeof the hospitable board, which I admitted had something of reason; and,finally, when he had declared that the sword must reach Hannibal onlythrough his own breast, then, at last, from filial duty, mark you, Ithrew the weapon from me, telling him that he had betrayed his countrythrice: in revolting from Rome, in allying with foreigners, and, now,in turning aside the instrument of escape. Then we returned to thebanquet, but my father trembled, and ate and drank no more. There,now, is a story to tell your city's destroyer. If you betray me,perhaps he may yet love you."
Marcia viewed him sternly.
"Truly your father was right, when he said you were ill in mind."
"Yes, ill in mind and in heart."
"How, then, do you not recognize one whose heart is sicker than yourown?"
Perolla looked at her inquiringly, and she went on:--
"You have a city that has been false to itself, and is in danger ofpunishment--a father, too, if you will. _My_ city has already sufferedevery evil but destruction: my brother and he to whom Juno was about tolead me have been killed by these pulse-eaters. Are such things thebenefits that go to make friendship and love for the slayers? Say,rather, hate and the craving for revenge."
"Yes," said Perolla, moodily; "they are indeed evils, but less thanmine, in that they are passed--"
"And is Rome safe, do you think?" she asked quickly.
"Rome will conquer," he said doggedly, "unless there be many moretraitors like you."
"Fool!" she cried, grasping his wrist. "Can you not see--you who claimto be a philosopher and to have Greek blood?--you, at least, shouldhave understood my words."
He gazed at her vacantly, and she began to regret her vehemence. Itcame to her mind that this was not altogether a safe man to trust withher secret. Faithful he was, no doubt; but a fool might be even moredangerous than a traitor. Still, she had said too much to be silent,and she felt the need of some ally to whom she could talk--upon whomshe could at least pretend to lean when the weight of her burden washeaviest.
"I have told you what I have lost--what I dread to lose. Now learnwhat I am here to gain. For many days after the black news of Cannae,I heard them talking in my father's house--talking of the advance ofthe insolent victors and of the paltry defence we could oppose, thecertain destruction that awaited us. Still they were brave--old menand boys. The soldiers were dead, but we set to work trainingnew--shaping them alike out of youth and age and bondmen; and theslayers of our citizens delayed, and we gained strength and courage.In every temple of the twelve gods it was the same prayer by day andnight: 'Grant us delay. Grant us that the winter may find him in thesouth!' At last came the news that he was advancing to Capua, andrumours of a Carthaginian party in the city. From Capua, seized withall its engines of war, was but a few days to Rome. Then I took aresolve and made a vow: tell me, am I beautiful?"
"Beautiful as Venus."
"Know, then, that I have dedicated this beauty to her, that she mayguard Rome and avenge me upon Rome's enemies."
He shook his head stupidly.
"Minerva does not favour me, lady," he replied; "for I do notunderstand your words."
"Listen!" she went on, with the earnestness of desperation, "He shall_love_ me--he or one who can sway him--and they shall play the laggardshere, until the winter gives us time--and time brings safety."
He understood her now, but still he shook his head.
"If you speak truth," he said slowly, "you speak foolishness as well.Hannibal will love no mistress but Carthage, and there is no man livingwho shall sway him by a hair's breadth. _Now_ I see why you spoke tohim of plots at Rome and of the wisdom of delay. Ah! a woman to makegame of _him_!" and he threw back his head and laughed. "Do youimagine he has not divined your plot? Give him your beauty if youwill. He will take it, doubtless, if he have time, and march northforthwith, after you have confessed your little plottings beneath thehot tweezers. Only one thing shall stay him--steel,--and in the handsof man--not blandishments in the mouth of a girl."
Marcia was in despair.
"And is there no help," she cried, "for me, a Roman woman, from you, afriend of
Rome? Surely we shall be stronger together, even if ourplots are different. Two plans are better than one."
Before he could frame his answer they heard footsteps coming towardthem, and then a man, enveloped in the brown cloak of a slave, pushedaside the foliage and glided out into the moonlight. Perolla, wheelingabout, had half drawn his sword, while Marcia shrunk back into theshadow.
"Put up your sword, my Perolla," said the newcomer, speaking in lowtones and throwing aside his mantle.
"Decius Magius, by all the gods!" cried the young man; "but why are youdisguised?"
"Because, my friend," said Magius, slowly "Capua is no longer free;because spies of the Carthaginian and of our senate are watching myhouse, making ready to seize me. Decius Magius can no longer walk inhis own city, clad in his own gown, and to-morrow, doubtless, he cannotwalk at all. Therefore I wish to speak with you, and I have put onthis disguise in order that I might gain your house unobserved, andthat your father might not die of fright, learning me to be here."
"But how did you enter? how find me?"
"I entered, my Perolla, because your porter, like every slave in Capua,is drunk to-night, and because the boy whom he left to keep the gatewas only enough awake to mumble that you were in the garden."
Perolla frowned. Then, suddenly, he remembered Marcia, concerning whomhis suspicions were not yet entirely removed, and he raised his hand inwarning.
"There is a woman here--a Roman woman, who tells a strange story," hewhispered. "It is better to be discreet."
"The time for discretion is past for Decius Magius," said the other,wearily. "Let him at least speak freely upon his last night offreedom."
Marcia came forward.
"Is it permitted a Roman maid to honour a Campanian who is true to hiscity's faith?"
"Assuredly, daughter," replied Magius, quietly. She could not see hisface except that it was stern and gray-bearded; but, kneeling downbeside him, she took his hand and poured out the story of her life, hersorrow, her resolve, and its prosecution. Here, at least, was a manupon whose faith and judgment she could rely, and his manner grew moregentle as she made an end of speaking.
"So you doubted her truth, my Perolla," he said softly. "That isbecause you have not felt her hand tremble, and because you are tooyoung and too much of a philosopher to judge of the honesty of awoman's face. The same instinct that tells me, doubtless warnedHannibal also that this was not a courtesan, much less an immodestwoman well born, and, least of all, a coward who would flee her city,or a traitress who would betray it. You will know more of such things,my Perolla, when you learn to study them less." Then, turning toMarcia, he went on: "What you have designed, my daughter, is noble andworthy of your race--and yet, while I commend, I am slow to encourage.Are you strong to carry your sacrifice to the uttermost?"
Marcia shuddered.
"Yes, if there be need," she said, in a low voice; "I look to nomarriage now. Is not the Republic worthy of our best?"
"It is a hard thing," he said, doubtfully, "for a woman well born andmodest to belong to a man she hates."
"But it is easy to die, my father, as died Lucretia."
Decius Magius looked at her. Several times his lips moved as if aboutto speak, and, once, he turned away sharply for a moment, as if to gazeup into the night.
"Tell me, my father," she said earnestly, "do you give me no hope? Isnot my beauty worth the purchase of a few paltry months? And thencomes the winter, bringing safety."
Still Magius said nothing for several minutes, and when he spoke, itwas in harsh, quick tones.
"Yes, it is all possible, as you say it."
"Hannibal to surrender his plans for a woman?" cried Perolla,scornfully. "Surely, my Decius, you jest. Do you not know him--thatonly the gods can turn him from his purpose?"
Marcia had wheeled about with flashing eyes and faced the last speaker.
"You have shown me the way," she cried. "It is the gods who _shall_delay him."
Perolla gazed at her in astonishment, as at one gone mad, but Magiusnodded and frowned.
"It is the best chance," he said slowly, "the only one."
"Still Minerva does not favour me," said Perolla, shaking his head; butMarcia went on in a high, nervous voice and with a gayety that made theolder man draw his cloak up to his face in pity:--
"Come, my philosopher, you are indeed stupid to-night. If you did notobserve it at the house of the Ninii, you should have heard me just nowwhen I told the story of the banquet to my lord Decius. It isIddilcar, the priest of Melkarth, who shall bring his god to be myally--Rome's ally: Iddilcar, who could not so much as take his eyesfrom me, through all their feasting. There is the man who will prefermy beauty, even to his god's favour; and surely your Hannibal will notwage war against the auspices."
The face of Magius was still shaded by his cloak, and he said nothing;but over the features of the younger man came strange expressions:first amazement, then horror, then a look which had something of horrorbut more of yearning. He held out his hands in supplication.
"No--no," he cried. "You shall not do it. You are too beautiful.First I hated you, when I dreamed you to be but a courtesan traitress.Now--now--O gods favour me! Listen! you shall not do it. It is I whowill kill him--yes, and you also first," and, turning suddenly away, hestaggered. Then, as Magius raised his hand to support him, he shookhimself free and ran furiously into the house.
Marcia turned to Magius in astonishment, and he smiled sadly.
"Even philosophers are not proof," he said; "and you are verybeautiful--and he is young--and half a Greek." She blushed, and thegrim senator took her hand. "May the gods grant, my daughter, thatyour sacrifice be not for nothing. You have spoken wisdom; but he--heis a madman. As for me, I am as one who is dead. Farewell."
He dropped her hand, and she felt, rather than heard or saw him go;only her voice would not obey her when she strove to detain him, if butfor a moment: the only man in Capua whom she could honour--upon whomshe could rely. Surely he would not desert her thus?--yes, truly, hewas _gone_.
Then she ran several steps in the direction he had taken, and called,though she dared not call his name, until a female attendant camehurrying to answer her.
"My lord, Perolla," said the girl, "had but just rushed out into thestreet, as if possessed of a daimon. As for a strange slave, she hadobserved no one; but if such there was, doubtless he had slipped by theporter's boy--who was worthless."
Marcia groped her way to her sleeping apartment, harshly brushing asidean offer of aid. Once alone, she threw herself down upon the couch andburst into a torrent of moans and sobs.
The girl, who had followed hesitatingly, listened in the hallway,nodding her head with conscious satisfaction. "And so the Roman womenloved, for all they were said to be so grand and stern. What a foolthis one was, though, to prefer the son to the father, who was muchricher, and who, being old, would doubtless realize the necessity ofbeing more generous."
And she went back to the slaves' apartments, laughing softly to herself.