CHAPTER XXIII
PROCOPIUS TO CETHEGUS:
HE went all the way to Carthage on foot, declining horse or camel,remaining silent or praying aloud in Latin, no longer in the Vandallanguage. Fara offered him suitable garments instead of the worn,half-tattered purple mantle which he had on his bare body. The captivedeclined, and asked for a penitent's girdle, with sharp points on theinside, such as the hermits wear in the desert. We did not know how toobtain such crazy gear, and Fara probably disapproved the wish, so the"Tyrant" himself made one from a cast-off horse-bridle which he foundand the hard, sharp thorns of the desert acacia. Close to the gate ofhis capital, his strength failed, and he fell, face downward, in theroad. Verus stopped behind him, hesitating. I believe he meant to sethis foot on the King's neck; but Fara, who probably had the samesuspicion, roughly pushed the priest forward, and raised the monarchwith kind words. Directly beyond the Numidian gate, in the spacioussquare in the Aklas suburb, Belisarius had assembled the larger portionof his army, filling three sides; the fourth, facing the gate, remainedopen. Opposite the entrance, on a raised seat, the General, in fullarmor, sat throned; above his head rose the imperial field standards;at his feet lay the scarlet flags and pennons of the Vandals which wehad captured by the dozen; every thousand had them. Only the greatroyal banner was missing; it was never found. Around Belisarius stoodthe leaders of his victorious bands, with many bishops and priests,then the Senators, aristocratic citizens of Carthage and the othercities, some of whom had returned from exile or flight during the pastfew months; Pudentius of Tripolis and his son were among them,rejoicing. To the left of Belisarius, on purple coverlets at his feet,lay heaped and poured in artistic confusion the royal treasure of theVandals: many chairs of solid gold, the chariot of the Vandal Queen, acountless multitude of treasures of every description,--how the jewelsglittered under the radiant African sun,--the whole silver tableservice of the King, weighing many thousand pounds, and all the rest ofthe paraphernalia of the royal household, besides weapons, countlessweapons from Genseric's armories; old Roman banners, too, which, aftera captivity of years, were again released; weapons enough in the handsof brave men to conquer the whole globe; Roman helmets with proudlycurved crests, German boar and buffalo helmets, Moorish shields coveredwith panther skins, Moorish fillets with waving ostrich plumes,breastplates of crocodile skin,--who can enumerate the motley variety?But at the right of Belisarius, with their hands bound behind theirbacks, stood the prisoners of the highest rank, men, and also manywomen, beautiful in face and figure,--the whole picture, however, wasinclosed, as though in an iron frame, by our squadrons of horsemen andthe dense ranks of our foot-soldiers. How the horses neighed; how theplumes in the helmets waved; how the metal clanked and glittered withdazzling brightness! A magnificent spectacle which must fill withrapture the heart of every man who did not view it as a captive. Behindour warriors crowded eagerly the populace of Carthage, taught by many ablow with the handle of a spear that it had nothing to say, and bore nopart in this celebration of its own and Africa's deliverance.
Our little procession stopped within the vaulted gateway, awaiting apreconcerted signal. A tuba blared; Fara and I, followed by somesubordinate officers and thirty Herulians, rode into the square toBelisarius's throne. He commanded us to dismount, rose, embraced andkissed Fara, and hung around his neck a large gold disk,--the prize ofvictory for bringing as prisoner a crowned King. Then he pressed myhand and asked me to accompany him in all future campaigns. This is thehighest reward I could receive, for I love this man who has the courageof a lion and the heart of a boy!
At a signal we took our places on the right and left of the throne. Twoblasts of the tuba. Clad in the richest vestments of the Catholicpriesthood,--I noticed that even the narrow Arian tonsure had beenchanged to the broader Catholic one,--Verus came from the gateway intothe square, his figure drawn up to its full height, his head thrownback proudly. He was evidently thinking: "But for me you would not behere, you arrogant soldiers." Yet that is by no means true; we reallyshould have conquered without him, though more slowly, with moredifficulty. And in the degree to which it was correct--just so far itirritated my friend Belisarius. His brow contracted, and he scanned theapproaching priest with a look of contempt which the latter could notendure. When he bowed he lowered his lashes--arrogantly enough. "I havea letter from the Emperor to read to you, priest," said Belisarius. Heextended his hand for a purple papyrus roll, kissed it, and began:
"Imperator Caesar, Flavius Justinianus, the devout, fortunate, gloriousvictor and triumphator, at all times Augustus, conqueror of theAlemanni, Franks, Germans, Antae, Alani, Persians, now also the Vandals,Moors, and Africa, to Verus the Archdeacon.
"'You have preferred, instead of dealing with me, to conduct a secretcorrespondence with the Empress, my hallowed consort, concerning thefall of the Tyrant to be consummated, with God's assistance, by ourarms. She promised you, if we conquered, to ask me for the reward youdesired. Theodora does not intercede with Justinian in vain. Afterproving that you had only apparently adopted the faith of the heretics,while in your heart, and also to your Catholic confessor, who wasauthorized to grant you dispensation for that external semblance ofsin, you had always been faithful to the true religion, you arerecognized, having secretly received the Catholic consecration,as an orthodox priest. So I command Belisarius, immediately on thereceipt of this letter, to proclaim you at once Catholic Bishop ofCarthage.'--Hear, all ye Carthaginians and Romans: in the Emperor'sname, I proclaim Verus Catholic Bishop of Carthage, and will put on theBishop's mitre and deliver the Bishop's staff. Kneel, Bishop."
Verus hesitated. He seemed to wish to receive the gold-embroideredmitre standing; but Belisarius held it so low, so close to his ownknees, that the priest could do nothing but submit, if the desiredornament and his head were to meet. The instant he felt it covered, hesprang up again. Belisarius now placed in his hand the richly gilded,crooked shepherd's staff. Then the Bishop, holding himself haughtilyerect, was about to move to the right of the throne.
"Stop, Reverend Bishop," cried Belisarius, "the Emperor's letter is notyet finished." And he read on:
"'So the desired reward is yours. But Theodora, as you have learned,does not intercede with Justinian in vain; so I will also fulfil hersecond request. She thinks so bold and so crafty a man would be toodangerous in the bishopric of Carthage; you might serve your new masteras you did the old one. Therefore she entreated me to have Belisarius,immediately on receipt of this message, seize you,'"--at a sign fromthe General, Fara, with the speed of lightning and with evidentdelight, laid his mailed right hand heavily on the shoulder of Verus,whose face blanched,--"'for you are exiled for life to Martyropolis onthe Tigris, upon the frontier of Persia, as far as possible fromCarthage. The Empress's confessor, whom she desires to have transferredfrom Constantinople to Carthage, will manage the affairs of thebishopric as your Vicarius, with the consent of the Holy Father inRome. There are penal mines in Martyropolis. During six hours in theday you will care for the souls of the convicts. That you may be betterable to do this, by thoroughly understanding their state of feeling,you will, during the other six hours, share their labor.' Away withhim!"
Verus tried to answer, but already the tuba blared loudly again, and,before it sounded for the third time, six Thracians had hurried thepriest far away from the square, and disappeared in the street leadingto the harbor.
"Now summon Gelimer, the King of the Vandals," said the General,loudly.
And from the gateway into the square came Gelimer, his hands fetteredwith a chain of gold. One of the numerous pointed crowns found in theroyal treasure had been pressed upon his long tangled locks, and overhis ragged old purple mantle and penitent's girdle was flung amagnificent new cloak of the same royal stuff. He had submitted toeverything unresistingly, motionless and silent, only at first he hadobjected to the crown; then he said gently, "Be it so--my crown ofthorns." In the same unresisting, unmoved silence he now, like awalking corp
se, crossed with slow, slow steps the space,--possiblythree hundred feet,--which separated him from Belisarius. While, at themention of his name, a loud whisper, mingled with occasionalexclamations, had run through the ranks, all the many thousands weresilent now that they saw him: scorn, triumph, curiosity,vindictiveness, pity no longer found any expression; they were silencedby the majesty of this spectacle, the majesty of utter misery.
The captive King crossed the square entirely alone. No other prisoner,not even a guard or warrior accompanied him. He kept his eyes,shaded by long lashes, fixed upon the ground; they were sunk deep intheir sockets; his pale cheeks, too, were deeply sunken; the thinfingers of his right hand were clenched around a small wooden cross.Blood--visible when the mantle slipped back in walking--was tricklingfrom his girdle, down his naked limbs, in slow drops upon the whitesand of the square.
All were silent; a deathlike stillness pervaded the wide space; thepeople held their breath until the hapless King stood beforeBelisarius.
Deeply moved, the Roman General, too, found no words, but kindlyextended his right hand to the man before him. Gelimer now raised hislarge eyes, saw Belisarius in all the glitter of gold and armor,glanced quickly around the three sides of the square, beheld themagnificence and pomp of warlike splendor, the victors' bannersfluttering high in the air, on the ground the standards and sparklingroyal treasure of the Vandals. Suddenly--we all started as this corpseburst into such wild emotion--he flung both hands, with their long goldchain, above his head, clasping them so that the metal clashed; thecross slipped from his grasp; he uttered a shrill, terrible laugh.
"Vanity! _All_ is vanity!" he shrieked, and threw himself prone uponthe sand just at the feet of Belisarius.
"Is this illness?" whispered the General to me.
"Oh, no," I answered in the same tone. "It is despair--or piety. Hethinks that life is not worth living; everything human, everythingearthly, even his people and his kingdom are sinful, vain, empty. Isthis the last word of Christianity?"
"No, it is madness!" cried Belisarius the hero. "Up, my brave warriors!Let the tubas blare again, the Roman tubas which echo through theworld! To the harbor! To the ships! And to the triumph--toConstantinople!"
F E L I C I T A S
By FELIX DAHN _Author of_ "_The Scarlet Banner_"
Translated from the German by Mary J. Safford. $1.50
* * * * *
It tells of a lovely wife named Felicitas, of her husband's inscriptionof her name upon the threshold of her home, and of the happiness thatcame to them in spite of Roman wickedness and German invasion.--_BostonJournal_.
A charming idyl of the period when the Germans were forcing themselvesand their ideals upon the Roman Empire.... Felix Dahn is perhaps thegreatest historical novelist of Germany.--_The Churchman_.
Care, elevated purity of tone, and just balance distinguish it frommany hastily thrown off and perfervid romances of the day.--_BostonTranscript_.
The charm of it lies in this admirable picture of innocence andhappiness amid the chaos of a fallen civilization.--_The Independent_.
The book is made in a way that commends it to lovers of thebeautiful.--_Chicago Evening Post_.
The historical accuracy of Professor Dahn's novels isunimpeachable.--_San Francisco Argonaut_.
The book is dramatic. The author has evidently found a new field forhistorical romance.--_Worcester Spy_.
* * * * *
A. C. McCLURG & CO., _Publishers_, Chicago
A CAPTIVE OF THE ROMAN EAGLES
By FELIX DAHN _Author of_ "_Felicitas_"
Translated from the German by Mary J. Safford. $1.50
The story deals with that early period when Roman power was feeling theinroads of Christianity, and the Pagan Teutons were not yet converted.It has, however, little to do with religion and much with conflict. Abeautiful German girl captured by the Romans is the heroine.--_TheOutlook_.
The book is of distinct value, as illuminating for us one of the manydim paragraphs in the record of the mighty struggle that Rome waged forcenturies with the wild men of Europe.--_Chicago Evening Post_.
At the present day he is considered the successor of Ebers inhistorical fiction.--_Minneapolis Times_.
A book not only worth translating, but worth translating well, and itsEnglish version, by Mary J. Safford, must be well-nigh as satisfactoryas the original.--_Book News_.
It has the solid excellence one finds in the stories of Dahn'scompatriot, Ebers.--_New York Commercial Advertiser_.
A high place in the historical fiction of the year belongs to thetranslation of Felix Dahn's "Bissula."--_The Churchman_.
Such fiction is of the highest literary value. It redeemsthe appellation "historical novel" from execration andoblivion.--_Louisville Courier-Journal_.
Miss Safford has done her work of translating well. The book ispublished in attractive form, and it is a fine tale.--_Boston Times_.
* * * * *
A. C. McCLURG & CO., _Publishers_, Chicago
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