The Last Days of Pompeii

  Chapter XII

  A WASP VENTURES INTO THE SPIDER'S WEB.

  THE second night of the trial had set in; and it was nearly the time inwhich Sosia was to brave the dread Unknown, when there entered, at thatvery garden-gate which the slave had left ajar--not, indeed, one of themysterious spirits of earth or air, but the heavy and most human form ofCalenus, the priest of Isis. He scarcely noted the humble offerings ofindifferent fruit, and still more indifferent wine, which the piousSosia had deemed good enough for the invisible stranger they wereintended to allure. 'Some tribute,' thought he, 'to the garden god. Bymy father's head! if his deityship were never better served, he would dowell to give up the godly profession. Ah! were it not for us priests,the gods would have a sad time of it. And now for Arbaces--I amtreading a quicksand, but it ought to cover a mine. I have theEgyptian's life in my power--what will he value it at?'

  As he thus soliloquised, he crossed through the open court into theperistyle, where a few lamps here and there broke upon the empire of thestarlit night; and issuing from one of the chambers that bordered thecolonnade, suddenly encountered Arbaces.

  'Ho! Calenus--seekest thou me?' said the Egyptian; and there was alittle embarrassment in his voice.

  'Yes, wise Arbaces--I trust my visit is not unseasonable?'

  'Nay--it was but this instant that my freedman Callias sneezed thrice atmy right hand; I knew, therefore, some good fortune was in store forme--and, lo! the gods have sent me Calenus.'

  'Shall we within to your chamber, Arbaces?'

  'As you will; but the night is clear and balmy--I have some remains oflanguor yet lingering on me from my recent illness--the air refreshesme--let us walk in the garden--we are equally alone there.'

  'With all my heart,' answered the priest; and the two friends passedslowly to one of the many terraces which, bordered by marble vases andsleeping flowers, intersected the garden.

  'It is a lovely night,' said Arbaces--'blue and beautiful as that onwhich, twenty years ago, the shores of Italy first broke upon my view.My Calenus, age creeps upon us--let us, at least, feel that we havelived.'

  'Thou, at least, mayst arrogate that boast,' said Calenus, beatingabout, as it were, for an opportunity to communicate the secret whichweighed upon him, and feeling his usual awe of Arbaces still moreimpressively that night, from the quiet and friendly tone of dignifiedcondescension which the Egyptian assumed--'Thou, at least, maystarrogate that boast. Thou hast had countless wealth--a frame on whoseclose-woven fibres disease can find no space to enter--prosperouslove--inexhaustible pleasure--and, even at this hour, triumphantrevenge.'

  'Thou alludest to the Athenian. Ay, to-morrow's sun the fiat of hisdeath will go forth. The senate does not relent. But thou mistakest:his death gives me no other gratification than that it releases me froma rival in the affections of Ione. I entertain no other sentiment ofanimosity against that unfortunate homicide.'

  'Homicide!' repeated Calenus, slowly and meaningly; and, halting as hespoke, he fixed his eyes upon Arbaces. The stars shone pale andsteadily on the proud face of their prophet, but they betrayed there nochange: the eyes of Calenus fell disappointed and abashed. He continuedrapidly--'Homicide! it is well to charge him with that crime; but thou,of all men, knowest that he is innocent.'

  'Explain thyself,' said Arbaces, coldly; for he had prepared himself forthe hint his secret fears had foretold.

  'Arbaces,' answered Calenus, sinking his voice into a whisper, 'I was inthe sacred grove, sheltered by the chapel and the surrounding foliage.I overheard--I marked the whole. I saw thy weapon pierce the heart ofApaecides. I blame not the deed--it destroyed a foe and an apostate.'

  'Thou sawest the whole!' said Arbaces, dryly; 'so I imagined--thou wertalone.'

  'Alone!' returned Calenus, surprised at the Egyptian's calmness.

  'And wherefore wert thou hid behind the chapel at that hour?'

  'Because I had learned the conversion of Apaecides to the Christianfaith--because I knew that on that spot he was to meet the fierceOlinthus--because they were to meet there to discuss plans for unveilingthe sacred mysteries of our goddess to the people--and I was there todetect, in order to defeat them.'

  'Hast thou told living ear what thou didst witness?'

  'No, my master: the secret is locked in thy servant's breast.'

  'What! even thy kinsman Burbo guesses it not! Come, the truth!'

  'By the gods...'

  'Hush! we know each other--what are the gods to us?'

  'By the fear of thy vengeance, then--no!'

  'And why hast thou hitherto concealed from me this secret? Why hastthou waited till the eve of the Athenian's condemnation before thou hastventured to tell me that Arbaces is a murderer? And having tarried solong, why revealest thou now that knowledge?'

  'Because--because...' stammered Calenus, coloring and in confusion.

  'Because,' interrupted Arbaces, with a gentle smile, and tapping thepriest on the shoulder with a kindly and familiar gesture--'because,my Calenus (see now, I will read thy heart, and explain itsmotives)--because thou didst wish thoroughly to commit and entangle mein the trial, so that I might have no loophole of escape; that I mightstand firmly pledged to perjury and to malice, as well as to homicide;that having myself whetted the appetite of the populace to blood, nowealth, no power, could prevent my becoming their victim: and thoutellest me thy secret now, ere the trial be over and the innocentcondemned, to show what a desperate web of villainy thy word to-morrowcould destroy; to enhance in this, the ninth hour, the price of thyforbearance; to show that my own arts, in arousing the popular wrath,would, at thy witness, recoil upon myself; and that if not for Glaucus,for me would gape the jaws of the lion! Is it not so?'

  'Arbaces, replied Calenus, losing all the vulgar audacity of his naturalcharacter, 'verily thou art a Magician; thou readest the heart as itwere a scroll.'

  'It is my vocation,' answered the Egyptian, laughing gently. 'Well,then, forbear; and when all is over, I will make thee rich.'

  'Pardon me,' said the priest, as the quick suggestion of that avarice,which was his master-passion, bade him trust no future chance ofgenerosity; 'pardon me; thou saidst right--we know each other. If thouwouldst have me silent, thou must pay something in advance, as an offerto Harpocrates.' If the rose, sweet emblem of discretion, is to takeroot firmly, water her this night with a stream of gold.'

  'Witty and poetical!' answered Arbaces, still in that bland voice whichlulled and encouraged, when it ought to have alarmed and checked, hisgriping comrade. 'Wilt thou not wait the morrow?'

  'Why this delay? Perhaps, when I can no longer give my testimonywithout shame for not having given it ere the innocent man suffered,thou wilt forget my claim; and, indeed, thy present hesitation is a badomen of thy future gratitude.'

  'Well, then, Calenus, what wouldst thou have me pay thee?'

  'Thy life is, very precious, and thy wealth is very great,' returned thepriest, grinning.

  'Wittier and more witty. But speak out--what shall be the sum?'

  'Arbaces, I have heard that in thy secret treasury below, beneath thoserude Oscan arches which prop thy stately halls, thou hast piles of gold,of vases, and of jewels, which might rival the receptacles of the wealthof the deified Nero. Thou mayst easily spare out of those piles enoughto make Calenus among the richest priests of Pompeii, and yet not missthe loss.'

  'Come, Calenus,' said Arbaces, winningly, and with a frank and generousair, 'thou art an old friend, and hast been a faithful servant. Thoucanst have no wish to take away my life, nor I a desire to stint thyreward: thou shalt descend with me to that treasury thou referrest to,thou shalt feast thine eyes with the blaze of uncounted gold and thesparkle of priceless gems; and thou shalt for thy own reward, bear awaywith thee this night as much as thou canst conceal beneath thy robes.Nay, when thou hast once seen what thy friend possesses, thou wilt learnhow foolish it would be to injure one who has so much to bestow. WhenGlaucus is no more, thou shalt pay the treasury anoth
er visit. Speak Ifrankly and as a friend?'

  'Oh, greatest, best of men!' cried Calenus, almost weeping with joy,'canst thou thus forgive my injurious doubts of thy justice, thygenerosity?'

  'Hush! one other turn and we will descend to the Oscan arches.'