The Lion's Brood Part 27

She inclined her head, still wondering, and when they had left the room her wonder deepened. Surely a change had taken place. A Carthaginian was always said to love money, but for Iddilcar to seek to obtain it by such crude and violent means, from a man whom his general professed to honour and protect, seemed to augur something of which she knew not.

Either Hannibal's protection was to be, for some reason, withdrawn, or else?--but what else could embolden the priest to such license? The look, too, with which he had regarded herself! She had restrained him with some difficulty during the past months, but now she felt instinctively that her control had vanished. Even violence seemed near; for that Iddilcar could be fool enough to dream that his mere repet.i.tion of the words he had listened to, would enrage Hannibal, she did not for a moment believe. The general had heard the same from Calavius, face to face, and had only frowned and bit his lips behind his beard, as if feeling their justice. What, then, could have happened?

"Ah! you are still here."

She looked up quickly, and saw that the priest had returned alone. He went on, speaking quickly and nervously, but in low tones:--

"The time has come. And so you were thinking, thinking of what? Was it rejoicing that Tanis was to give you to me so soon?" and he showed his teeth, like a dog. "Listen: they suspect me. I have done all as you wished, but there was a council to-day in the camp before Casilinum, and Maharbal fell on his knees, as he did after Cannae, and begged to march north,--not with the cavalry alone, as then; he knew it was too late for that: and the schalischim knit his brows and frowned.

Then Hasdrubal and Karthalo added their prayers and pleadings, gathering around him, and then he turned his sombre face to me, and asked if it was permitted; but, before I could answer, for my mind was disturbed, that animal whom they call, 'The Fighter' had drawn his sword and held it over my head, crying out: 'Yes, friends, it is permitted--see! It is permitted;' and then I felt myself grow pale, and I heard the great beast laugh. A moment later and Hannibal had ordered him to put up his sword, and I saw Maharbal whispering quick words in the general's ear, among which it seemed to me that his lips formed your name. Again, Hannibal asked: 'Is it permitted, Iddilcar?

or what sacrifice will your lord have from us? Have we not served him faithfully? Is there aught he wishes?' and I felt all their eyes on me; but, above all, were yours that were soon to smile. Therefore I took courage, which the lord Melkarth granted, and spoke boldly, explaining that I had as yet been able to win no favour, though I had prayed long and fasted and lashed myself with thongs, whereupon Hannibal-the-Fighter made as if to tear off my mantle, laughing in his beard; and when I saw they did not believe me, my terror came back.

Then it was that Melkarth shed wisdom upon his servant, and, after a moment's thought, I spoke up, thus:--

"'Listen, lords,' I said; 'I am a native Carthaginian, like you all, and I reverence the G.o.ds. Howbeit it may chance that here, beyond the sea, it is not so easy to win their favour, so that they shall go before us. New and strange sacrifices and pleadings wherein I am untaught may be needed to pierce the denser ether of this land. Truly, lords, as ye have not failed in piety, neither have I erred in divination, for Melkarth has spoken many times, telling me of the unnumbered woes that would overwhelm the army if it marched upon Rome unbidden, and he hath spoken truth, and I have saved you to revile me for it--only I would learn if there be yet speech better fitted to his ear.' I paused, and they were silent, wondering. Then I spoke on: 'Grant me, lords, three days, that I may journey to c.u.mae; for I have heard that a woman dwells there, wise in the ways of the G.o.ds, and, if I bear her rich presents, it may happen that she will teach me the words that shall pierce this dull air, even to where Baal-Melkarth sits enthroned in Mappalia, that he may grant all your wishes.' So I crossed my arms upon my breast, and, bowing my head, listened. 'At c.u.mae?' growled Jubellius Taurea, who sat near me, 'say, rather, at the house of Pacuvius Calavius,' and I felt myself trembling, for then I knew surely that I had heard Maharbal aright, and that I was suspected.

Still, I stood fast, and at last Hannibal spoke: 'Go to c.u.mae for three days,' he said sternly. 'Take what you wish--one talent, two, three; only bring back the words that shall win favour;' and Hasdrubal added: 'And harken! lord; if you win not favour, we shall yet march, and peradventure you shall come with us--if they drive not the nails too deep;' but there was an outcry at this, for they trembled lest Melkarth should smite them, and Hasdrubal spoke again, grumbling: 'Ah, masters, you have not seen soldiers as I have seen them, becoming bloated with wine and food, and soft in the arms of courtesans;' but Hannibal interrupted him, crying out to me again: 'Go!--go! There is little time for the march, and it may be we are already too late. Go and do all things so that the lord, Baal-Melkarth, shall favour us.' So I went out, and, having taken their talents, I am here. This old sheep has disgorged another talent together with gems. Therefore come now and we shall escape hence."

Marcia saw a dimness before her, amid which his jewels and bracelets and earrings seemed to mingle strange glancings with the fires that burned in his eyes. At last she faltered:--

"But your work?--it is not finished. How shall I know?--if I go with you?--"

The rings on his hand were sinking deep into her wrist; his lips were close to her ear.

"Ah! you will not go? You will play with me--deceive me? Listen now.

To-morrow I shall be here with horses and money--in the morning--very early--before light; and you will go like a little bird that is tamed.

These days will give us time to gain more, if more be needed. Look! I have hazarded all. Shall I lose my reward now because my work be unfinished by ever so little? It may be that, having gone, I shall not return. Do you think I will leave you here to laugh at me? You will go, or, to-morrow, Baal-Melkarth shall speak the word, and, before midday, Hannibal shall give orders to march to Rome. Why do you think I have gathered this wealth? Look! I have risked all for it, and you shall not escape."

Exhausted by his rapid vehemence, he stood back, breathing hard and trying to smile.

"Ah! moon of Tanis, you will come," he murmured, holding out his arms.

"We shall escape to Sicily--to Greece--to Egypt--to the far East. We shall be rich with the spoils of fools--"

A slight sc.r.a.ping noise came to their ears, and both started. Iddilcar sprang swiftly to the entrance of the room, but the lamp in the hall had gone out, and his eyes saw nothing in the darkness. Uncertain what to do, he looked back to where Marcia stood, pale and rigid. His voice and hands trembled as he repeated in a loud whisper:--

"You will come? You will be ready?"

"Yes," she said, "I will come;" but she did not look at him, as she spoke, only she caught the triumphant gleam of his eyes; a thousand weird lights seemed to whirl around her, and she felt herself sinking.

It seemed, for a moment, as if a slave in a gray tunic was supporting her, and then all consciousness fled.

XI.

THE SLAVE.

It was an hour past midnight, when Marcia first knew the agony of returning reason. The gong in the Forum had just struck. Where was she? Surely in her own apartment! How had she come there? Then, slowly, the memory of yesterday grew clear--the awful duty of to-morrow. With eyelids fast shut, as if dreading to open them to the darkness, she buried her throbbing temples beneath the rich Campanian coverlid. She could still see the eyes of Iddilcar gleaming wolfish amid his jewels; could see him standing in the doorway, as he turned from that startled rush in pursuit of what had been, doubtless, only a whisper of their imaginations. He had said he would come for her--before daybreak--and she must be ready. Later, she could approach death with suppliant hands, but now she must be ready. Her life was not her own yet. It was her country's. Later, the shade of Lucius would beckon. Surely he would forgive her for having avenged him. But how had she reached her room? Had it been Calavius or the slaves who had found her? did they suspect? Then she remembered the man who had seemed to catch her as she fell. Where could Iddilcar have been then?

Had he hurried away? probably enough. Again a slight scratching noise, as of some one softly changing his position,--like the sound which had startled the priest, came to her ears. Ah, protecting G.o.ds! what was true, and what but dreams? Her whole life was pa.s.sing before her, phantasmagorial and unreal. Surely some one was present! She _felt_ it. Had Iddilcar come already? The horror of the thought gave her courage, and, thrusting down the coverlid, she opened her eyes defiantly and tried to pierce the darkness. Nothing was visible, but she knew she was not alone, and, leaning upon one elbow, she reached out, groping.

Suddenly a hand grasped hers, a strong, bony hand, gripping it tightly, and by its very energy commanding silence. It seemed strange to her that she did not scream, but then she had known that she would find some one, and had the hand been Iddilcar's, she would certainly have realized it by the loathing in her soul. For her, now, all other men had become friends. Therefore she was not frightened, did not cry out--rather it was a soothing sense of companionship that came to her--almost of reliance. Why had this man come?--perhaps to help her; surely not to injure. Who was he? man or G.o.d? G.o.ds had appeared to those of olden times, when the Republic was young, and Romans worshipped, believing. She felt very brave--fearless.

"Who are you?" she whispered.

"I am a slave," answered a voice. "I brought you here, and I am watching."

It was a voice that, while it rang hard, yet had in it an a.s.surance of protection--even of power, and it thrilled her as with some familiar memory. Nevertheless she could not place its owner in the household.

Calavius had many slaves; a few of them had been free-born, and some, perhaps, might even have known a measure of social standing, before the turn of war or of financial fortunes had lost them to home and position.

"Who are you?" she asked again.

"I am a new servant," said the other. "Pacuvius Calavius bought me yesterday in the Street of the Whitened Feet."

She was silent a moment, trying hard to think; she felt the man's hand trembling, and then, suddenly realizing, she drew her own away.

"And yet you are going to-morrow with this beast--this animal!" said the voice, bitterly.

Startled again by the tone and accent, no less than by the words, she burst out:--

"Ah! why do you say that?--but you do not know, and I cannot tell you.

Yes, you are right. I am going away to-morrow. I am--a courtesan.

What then?"

"By the G.o.ds! no!" he cried, and she heard him spring to his feet.

Then, lowering his voice, "If I thought _that_, I would kill you."

"You would only forestall my own blow," she said quietly, and there was new silence.

At last he spoke again.

"Tell me all of this matter. You are safe. I am a Roman."

"A Roman--and a slave?"

"And a slave. Tell me the truth quickly."

The voice sounded weak and hollow now, but still strangely familiar.

She began her story, speaking in a low monotone.

"I am Marcia, daughter of t.i.tus Manlius Torquatus. I loved, and yet I drove my lover from me, and he was killed on the black day of Cannae.

Then the Senate feared lest the enemy should advance to Rome--prayed for the winter--for time. And I was beautiful, and I had no love, save for the king, Orcus. So the thought came to me that by my blandishments I might win power with these people, and, by power, delay, and, by delay, safety for Rome--and revenge for my lord, Lucius.

Therefore I journeyed to Capua. You see that I have played my part--that I have won? Tomorrow I go to pay the price. What matters it? Then I can die."

He had listened in silence; only she heard his breath coming hard, and, a moment after she had finished, he spoke:--

"No--you cannot die--not thus. _I_ have died--once, yet I live.

Listen! I, like the lover you tell of, was slain at Cannae, pierced through by javelins, and I lay with the dead heaped above me--ah! so many hours--days, perhaps--I do not know; until the slave-dealers, pa.s.sing among the corpses, found me breathing, and wondered at my strength, auguring a good value. Therefore they took me, and when I was well of my wounds they brought me here--to Capua, and sold me to Pacuvius Calavius--to whom may the G.o.ds give the death of a traitor!

Lo! now, let it be for a warning that Orcus does indeed send back the dead from Acheron."

He leaned forward, as he spoke the words, and there came to Marcia a sudden memory of two occasions when she had used the ancient saying--the colloquial "never" of Rome. Once it had bound her to Iddilcar, and once, far back, in happier times, it had parted her forever from Sergius. Tears rolled down her cheeks. A dim light seemed to be creeping into the room--very dim, but as her eyes grew dry again, she could begin to trace the outlines of her companion sitting on a low stool beside her couch. Surely those were footsteps in the hall--yes, footsteps--and the approaching light of a lamp.

Marcia's heart stood still. The slave had started from his seat and drawn far back in the darkest corner of the room; then the curtains were pushed cautiously aside, and the tall form of Iddilcar stood revealed by the light of the small, silver lamp he bore in his hand. A long, dark mantle enveloped him from head to foot.