VIII.
DIPLOMACY.
Pacuvius Calavius sat in the atrium of his house. Black robed fromhead to foot, with hair and beard untrimmed and uncombed, and face andhands foul with dirt, he rocked to and fro and groaned. From time totime he ran his fingers through beard and hair, and uttered themeasured cry of the Greek mourners.
An hour before, one of the senators had stolen furtively in, and,having hurriedly related the grewsome scene just enacted in the Forum,had sneaked out again as if he were a spy passing through hostilelines. None other of the friends of the afflicted father had venturedto bear or send a message of condolence. It was as if the house of theonce acknowledged leader had been marked for the pestilence--and nopestilence was more to be shunned than the deadly blight of brokenpower. Even the slaves shifted about in embarrassed silence, offeredlittle service, and obeyed as if conscious that obedience was somethingof an indiscretion, and was liable at any moment to become a crime.Some had slipped away to their quarters, and had begun to discuss therelative possibilities of freedom, wholesale execution, or a newmaster, when the coming blow should fall upon this one.
To Marcia, on the other hand, had been born a feeling of sympathy forher host, that, for the present, overcame the contempt with which hehad inspired her--a contempt scarcely lessened by the repulsiveostentation of his mourning. She alone ventured to minister to hiswants and to beg him to partake of food and drink. Perhaps herattitude was due in a measure to the horror with which she herself hadlistened to the morning's news. To be sure, she had not admired thecharacter of Perolla. It had in it too much of the weakness andpuerility engendered by the bastard Greek culture fashionable in lowerItaly, and which naturally attained its most offensive form in thetowns of Italian origin. Still, he had been faithful to Rome, andthere was something within that told her his madness and ruin were notentirely disconnected with her own personality. Word, too, had justbeen brought her that both Ligurius and Caipor had died of theirinjuries. They had seemed on the road to recovery when she visitedthem on the previous day, and this sudden misfortune filled her withnew forebodings, mingled with a suspicion too horrible to dwell upon.As for Decius Magius, she had barely seen him, yet she had felt him tobe one of all others upon whom she could rely--an Italian uncorruptedby Capuan luxury, a worthy descendant of the rugged Samnite stock, aRoman in all but name; and now he was snatched away, a prisoner in thehands of enemies who knew nothing of mercy. Still, he had approved ofher design; had seen in it the possibility of success; and there was atleast a consolation in the thought that, without friends or allies, noone but herself would now be cognizant of the fulfilment of herimpending degradation.
Another hour had passed; into Marcia's mind had come the calmness of afixed resolve. Calavius still moaned and cried out his measured "Aei!aei!"
Suddenly a tumult of noises sounded from the street: the approachingmurmur of a multitude, the footsteps of men, shouts of applause, criesof wonder or warning, and sharp words of command.
Ah! the end was near, now. Calavius began to imagine himselfstretching out his neck to the sword, and he sought, by proclaiming hiswillingness and welcome, to stay the chilling of his blood, thetrembling of his lips and hands.
Staves were beating upon the outer door; the hum of voices in thestreet rose and fell and rose again.
"Open the door, Phoenix," mumbled Calavius, as he rocked and swayed."Open the door and let them enter. I am an old man. My son is dead.What matters a few years of life? I pray to the gods that thebarbarians may not hack me. You shall see how easy I will make it--ifthey have but a sharp sword." Suddenly he sprang to his feet andgrasped Marcia's arm. "They will not scourge me? Surely they will notscourge me? I am a senator and the friend of Carthage!--will the doorhold? Hasten, my daughter; run and tell me whether they are guardingthe street in the rear--before the tradesmen's gate."
The beating upon the door still continued, with short intermissions,and Marcia surmised that the porter was probably skulking in the atticwith his fellow-slaves. Calavius had turned suddenly from the depthsof despair and the height of resignation to a keen desire for life. Hehad hurried away to seek for some unguarded exit, heedless, for themoment, of what even Marcia fully realized: the utter impossibility ofa man so well known escaping unaided through a hostile city and withouta friendly land whereto to turn his flight. He had left her standingin the court, to be a first prey of the assailants, whether Capuans orCarthaginians, and she reasoned that it would be better, or at leastquicker, to unbar the door before it should be broken in: she waswondering, in fact, at the forbearance that had preserved it thus farfrom more violent assault. Calavius had been gone some time.Doubtless he had escaped or, recognizing the uselessness of hisattempt, was hiding somewhere, and, in either event, nothing would belost by judicious parleying.
Arranging her robe, she walked slowly through the hall, slid back thebolts one by one, and let the door swing out into the street; then shestood, dazed and frightened, for the sight that met her eyes wasHannibal himself reclining in a litter borne by four Nubians. Thecurtains were thrown back, and he was leaning out, evidently givingsome directions to the attendants whose summons had thus far failed toobtain an answer. Beside the litter stood the priest, Iddilcar, withfolded arms and look bent upon the ground. Around them were ranged astrong guard of Africans, and, back through the streets, as far as shecould see, the Capuan rabble were thronging forward, curious orbloodthirsty.
All this was visible in a moment, and then the general, attracted bythe creaking of the door and the exclamation of the crowd, looked upand saw Marcia standing upon the threshold.
The litter was set down at an imperceptible signal, and he stepped out,robed in a loose gown of black, entirely without ornaments, and withhair and beard uncombed and sprinkled lightly with ashes. Marciastared in wonder. Surely this could not be the Carthaginian method ofannouncing judgment or execution! She caught a flash of subtlelightning from the eyes of Iddilcar, though these had not seemed toneglect for a moment their close scrutiny of the pavement. ThenHannibal stood before her, bowing low and speaking in suppressedtones:--
"The gods be with you and dwell within this house! I have come to lookupon the face of my father, and, if may be, to console him. Praise beto Tanis for the omen that you have opened to us, rather than one whoseservile duty it was. So shall our entrance be free and our goingjoyful."
He had cast a rapid glance around, as he spoke, and Marcia knew that hedivined why the service of tending the door had been left to her--afree woman and a guest; yet he was pleased to ignore all inferences,and to attribute her act to some divine will. His words, too, weremore than friendly, and, if they covered no snare of Punic faith,augured safety and continued favour.
"I have come," he continued, "that I might mingle my tears with thoseof my father who mourns the death of a son."
Marcia stood amazed. Had they not been told how this man had himselfordered the execution of Perolla? How, then, could even a Carthaginianshow such effrontery! Still, it was necessary to think quickly, andher woman's wit told her that, in any event, Calavius' best chance ofsafety was to seem to accept the visit in the spirit which cloaked it.So thinking, she led the visitors into the peristyle,--Hannibal,Iddilcar, and some twenty soldiers who followed as if by previousorders; while the rest mounted guard before the vestibule. Murmuringsome word of apology, she hurried back through the garden to thetradesmen's door.
It was still closed and barred, facts which, together with the rumbleof the crowd without, showed that Calavius' plan of escape had provenimpracticable. Then she began a careful search, becoming moreagitated, with each moment, about the difficulty of explaining thedelay. At last she found him, hidden away under a couch in one of theslaves' apartments, so senseless with terror that several minutespassed, before he could grasp her tale of Hannibal's presence, and ofthe chance of safety it offered. When, however, he understood thatthere was yet room for diplomacy,--that the visitors were not mereexec
utioners with orders to obey,--he drew himself out from hishiding-place, alert and active. The need of haste, in view of the timealready lost, was apparent; but, nevertheless, he paused in the gardento wallow a moment in the mould and plunge his hands into its depth.
Marcia saw with disgust, but she led on until they reached theperistyle; when, slipping aside into one of the cells, she watched theplaying of the game.
Calavius paused a moment at the entrance. Then, groaning deeply toattract attention, he shambled forward, and, throwing himself at fulllength before Hannibal, seized the hem of his robe and pressed iteagerly to his lips.
"Ah, my master!" he cried. "Slay me, slay me at once or with tortures.Surely that man is not fit to live whose loins have engendered such amonster of wickedness. Only by death can I hope to expiate my offenceand retain the favour of the gods."
"Rise, my father," said the captain-general, and to Marcia's ears hisvoice rang true with sympathy. He reached out his hand to helpCalavius. "Do you not see that I also wear mourning for thismelancholy error?"
"Never shall I rise or face you," cried Calavius, "until you give meyour oath that I shall have your forgiveness before I die. Ah, themonster! the parricide! who would slay, at one stroke, both him who hadbrought him up to better deeds, and him who is indeed the father of hiscountry. Ah, gods! the shame of it! Give orders, lord, quickly--onlyvow first that you forgive me."
Hannibal's tones were low and deep with sorrow, and, by animperceptible effort of what must have been prodigious strength, heraised the unwilling Calavius to his feet.
"Listen, my father," he said. "Have they not told you how I knew notthe young man? He was stained and dishevelled with revellings inhonour of our alliance--in honour of me, unhappy one. Perchance theLord Bacchus, whom you worship, willed to have him for his own, forsurely it was he that raised the young man's hand against me. Ah! myfather, did I not know how this son of thine was most beautiful, best,and bravest of the Capuan youth? Had I not marked him out for signalhonour--only less than yours, my father and his? See, now, how thegods confuse the affairs of men. It was at the banquet that I learnedhis worth, and determined that he should love me and find in me afriend."
"Truly yes," interrupted Calavius, "and you had won his heart, for,walking in the garden, he told me as much, only adding that he mustappear to turn to you slowly--for the honour of his name among thepartisans of Rome, whom may the gods confound as they have done."
Hannibal smiled softly, as he took up the words:--
"All this I knew well, being somewhat learned in men, my father; andnow the gods have smitten my brother with madness that he should try toslay me, and myself with blindness that I should, unknowingly, orderthe death of one I loved most. Look, my father, I join you in yourmourning, with black robes and ashes; I come to weep with you at thefeet of Fate--you whose love for me has lost you a son, and to offeryou myself to be a son in his place."
Calavius embraced him, mumbling prayers and vows and endearments in thesudden joy of escaped death. Iddilcar raised his eyes from the studyof the mosaics and turned aside, shaking as if with some strongemotion, and Hannibal spoke again.
"One thing more, my father, I would speak to you of, though for my bestinterests I should hold my peace nor make dissensions among allies.There were those with me when this evil happened--men of your CapuanSenate--who knew this youth better than I, and who I am convincedsuspected the truth; yet they spoke not--"
"Ah!" cried Calavius, "and you have their names writ down for me? Weshall slay them!"
Hannibal's face wore an expression strangely inscrutable as heanswered:--
"Yes, my father, I have their names whom I suspect; and they shallsurely die. Grant it to me, though, that I alone keep them and expiatemy own fault by avenging your wrong. This I swear by Baal-Melkarth andBaal-Moloch to accomplish at the season best for our plans. ThereforeI tell you the fact, but without names, that you may know that you haveenemies and walk warily, while I, your son, shall, under the gods, beyour reliance for protection and revenge."
Another thought seemed to be struggling for utterance in the bosom ofCalavius--a wish prompted by religion but checked by prudence. Twicehe raised his head as if to speak, and twice his eyes wandered. ThenHannibal spoke again, as if reading the other's thoughts:--
"I have also, my father, given orders that funeral honours be paid tomy brother; a pyre rich with woven fabrics and wine and oil and spices,and, from my own share of the Etruscan spoils, I have chosen a vaseboldly pictured with a combat of heroes."
Tears gushed anew from the eyes of Calavius at this added evidence ofthoughtful friendship, and once again he embraced his benefactor, butwith somewhat more of dignity, now that the fear of death was removed.
Suddenly Marcia became conscious of an intruding presence beside her,and, turning, her eyes fell upon the repulsive features of Iddilcar,that seemed to sneer through the semi-gloom. She shuddered and drewback against the wall. Iddilcar held out his arms which the broadsleeves of his robe left bare to elbow. An expression of eager lustmade his face even more hideous than did the sneer of a moment past.
"Come, little bird," he said, "and I will charm you. Moon of Tanis!Lamp of Proserpine! Essence of all the Heavens! do you not see I loveyou?--I, Iddilcar, priest of Melkarth. Behold, my robe is dark. Itmourns--not for the fool who died, but because you have not loved me.Love, and it will gleam again in violet, and all the bracelets thathung from my arms at the banquet shall be yours."
She pressed her hands to her face; she felt herself swaying upon hertrembling knees; only the support of the wall saved her from sinkingdown.
After a moment's silence he began again:--
"What is an old man, and weak--a sport of foreigners--to me who amyoung and strong, and by whose word even the schalischim of Carthagemust march or halt? I, the favoured one of Melkarth, beseech you, aRoman, for favour, because Adonis wills it. See how I come to you,unpermitted, from those who cajole each other, and I show you my heart.Love me! love me! leave this keeper, who is but an old woman, and youshall be a priestess in Carthage, and the people shall swarm around andcast their jewels and wealth before you, for the deity--that shall beyou alone; and we shall feast and love and love and feast again in suchsplendour as not even Carthage has ever known--"
She could restrain her feelings no longer; all her resolves seemed toslip from her in the presence of this man; she thrust out her hands andturned her head away with a shiver of utter disgust. Her movement wasvague in the dim light, but he saw it, and his face darkened.
"What is this house?" he exclaimed harshly. "How long will it standagainst me? Shall I not crush its root, even as its branch was tornoff to-day? Filth! vermin! dust! Shall not its flower lie in my bosomto bloom forever, if she wills--or to bloom for a moment and wither andbe cast away, if she wills not?"
He strode forward and caught her wrist; his hot breath steamed in herface.
"No! no! I _hate_ you! Go!" The words sprang from her lips, withoutpower to hold them back, and she struggled frantically in his grasp;she heard his teeth grinding, as, mad with passion, he strove to bindher arms to her sides. At that moment a rattling of weapons from theperistyle seemed to bring him to a consciousness of his surroundings.Releasing her, he half turned, and she sank down in the corner of thecell. The visit was evidently over, and Hannibal, about to take hisleave, was glancing around, evidently in search of the missing priest.
Iddilcar spoke low and rapidly:--
"I will return at once. Wait me till I come, or I will have you givento a syntagma of Africans."
He was out in the peristyle now, bowing low before the captain-general.Then he whispered in his ear--probably some explanation of his absence,of how he had been keeping watch against treachery; for Hannibal noddedseveral times, and, again embracing Calavius, accepted his escort tothe door, giving his arm to steady the steps of the older man.