indignity of being Scipio’s slave. How think ye do I survive, then,
the indignity of being the slave of the Roman Lælius? If I find Caius
Lælius kind and considerate to me, whom he hath never seen before,
how much more kindness and consideration hast not thou to expect from
Scipio? He, it is well known, loves the very ground thou walkest on,
and would formerly, hadst thou but been willing, have made thee his
wife. Thy fate can, therefore, whatever it be, in no ways be so very
terrible. Would to the gods, I say, that thou hadst but listened to
him over there at the Court of King Syphax. Then, instead of being in
the hands of enemies, we should all have been happy together here as
friends, and thou, Elissa, mightest have been Scipio’s wife and queen
of all Iberia. For even now the Iberians are commencing to hail him as
their king.”
“The fickle populace, Cleandra,” replied Elissa, partly recovering
herself, and sitting on her couch, “will ever follow success. Had I
but defeated Scipio, which, alas! was quite impossible with the means
at my command, they would have doubtless proclaimed me queen of
Iberia. ’Tis useless talking of such things. Nought now am I, who was
so much formerly, but a slave girl, subject to the will of Scipio. And
I love Maharbal.”
“Who scarce can love thee as doth Scipio,” interposed Cleandra; “and
’twould, indeed, be more like the truth, Elissa, wert thou to say that
thou didst thyself formerly love Maharbal, and that thou now lovest
the recollection of thy love for Maharbal. For how canst thou love him
now? ’Tis nearly five years since thou hast seen him, and but one
letter hast thou received from him in all those years. Love under such
circumstances is an impossibility, unless it be filial love or
fraternal love. A feeling of honour, which is to be commended in thee,
may make thee fancy that ye still belong to each other; yet ’tis
misplaced. For what are the facts as I have learned them from
Cœcilia? Taking the law into thine own hands, thou, when a mere girl
not yet seventeen, didst give thyself unto Maharbal, and, contrary to
thy father Hannibal’s wishes and without his consent, didst call
thyself his wife. That marriage was never ratified. Therefore, what
art thou, after five years have elapsed, to Maharbal? Again, thine
uncle Mago did inform thee that when Hannibal offered to let Maharbal
return and espouse thee, he did refuse, and elected rather to remain
in Italy. Therefore, what can he be to thee?”
“Yet am I bound to him in honour, and so must I ever consider myself,
until either I learn of his death, or until he of his own free will
shall give me up.”
Elissa answered thus somewhat doubtingly, for she was beginning to
feel the force of Cleandra’s arguments, which had doubtless often
occurred to herself.
But Cleandra continued: “I maintain, Elissa, that thou art in no wise
bound to Maharbal, and I would impress upon thee that much canst thou
do for Carthage even yet by living, since this great Roman General
Scipio loves thee. And that he is in turn one worthy to be loved is
proved by his conduct with reference to Idalia, whom he relinquished
as he did, doubtless, for thine own sake alone.”
Elissa sprang to her feet, the colour, for the first time for days,
returning to her cheek.
“And ’tis this very love that Scipio bears to me that I do so dread,
Cleandra! For, loving me, how will he spare me now? And I, too, may
the gods forgive me, may perchance--” She paused and clutched her
breast convulsively. “Nay,” she continued, after a pause, “I will not
say what I do not know, and that which, did I know it for certain,
were best unsaid. My love is for Maharbal, and my duty is to him--to
him alone.”
And she sank back upon her couch, and would speak no more. For she was
half convinced by Cleandra, and the longer the conversation continued
the less convinced was she with what she maintained herself, therefore
she wisely thought that her best refuge lay in silence.
Shortly afterwards, Scipio, who had been exercising his troops,
returned to the palace. Being informed by Lælius of what had
occurred, he was very much concerned and alarmed for Elissa’s welfare.
For there was nothing that he dreaded more than that she might in a
fit of desperation take her own life.
His anxiety to see once more this woman, who was the darling of his
heart, had now become unbearable. Accordingly, sending her in some
choice dishes and wine by the hands of a female slave, he, with many
salutations, requested permission to visit her alone in the evening.
“Tell Scipio that his slave is at the disposal of his lordship’s
orders, for that Elissa hath now no free will of her own.”
This was the ungracious message that he received in return for his
kind words.
Nevertheless, he accepted it as the required permission, and in the
evening, when the day’s work was over, repaired to her apartment,
where he found her attired, without ornaments of any sort, in the
utmost assumed humility.
The interview between them was long and harrowing. Scipio assured her
of his love as before, and by all the gods conjured her even yet to be
his bride. Every argument that he could think of he brought to bear,
and he spoke, too, with all the modesty of a diffident lover, with
none of the arrogance of a conqueror. He was so noble in his bearing,
so honestly genuine in his immense love for her, that Elissa, who had
begun by insulting him, was at length moved. The tears came to her
eyes, her bosom heaved, it burst upon her that she too loved him,
enemy of her country though he might be. Her hardness melted, and she
almost confessed it. Rising, she stretched out her arms to him.
“Oh, Scipio!” she cried, “why art thou so generous, so kind unto me?
Oh! what wouldst thou of me? Is it to tear my heart in pieces that
thou art come to me thus? and wouldst thou have me own--oh! Scipio,
that I also, in defiance of all honour--” Then she suddenly recovered
herself, all her pride returning, she dropped her arms to her side,
and with the stony look of a statue upon her face, continued: “Forgive
me, my lord, that I address thee thus familiarly; I am forgetting
myself, indeed. There can be no question between me and thee of my
feeling ought but obedience. Thou dost desire thy slave thou sayest,
then take thy slave--she is here before thee to obey thy behest, thou
canst make of her thy toy, thy plaything, if thou choosest. The body
thou canst indeed take, but not the soul; thy will is my law, and I
must obey; but my soul will not suffer, for while thou canst take thy
slave at thy will, know this, that the soul of Elissa, ay, the real
Elissa herself, can never be thine. All that is divine, all that
cometh as the attribute of the gods to make a human woman worth the
possessing by a noble man, that is what thou canst never have, for it
is given and belongeth to another for ever. ’Tis not for thee. Take me
then, my lord, shouldst thou so choose, and great will be thy
victory.” She gave a low, mocking laugh, and then, with drooping head,
resumed her attitude of humility before him; and thus she provoked
him.
Driven to madness, especially after having witnessed the tender,
indeed the passionate, glance when, in her recent ebullition of
feeling, Elissa had seemed on the very point of confessing her love to
him, Scipio sprung forward and seized her in his arms, holding her
madly, violently.
“By all the gods of Olympus and Hades,” he cried bitterly, “thou shalt
then be mine, Elissa, soul or no soul! What thou sayest thyself is
true, thou art my slave, and must obey me. Keep thou that divine
attribute which thou dost deny to me for thine accursed Maharbal, and
I will take what there is left. ’Tis, in sooth, fair enough for my
heaven; I would not have the Elyssian maids themselves more fair than
thee.”
Convulsively he pressed her in his arms, and wildly sought her lips
with his own.
No resistance made Elissa, only when in his violent embrace Scipio
hurt her wounded shoulder, she uttered a low cry of pain. Scipio
instantly released her, and was at her feet in a moment, all his
better instincts returning.
“Oh! do I hurt thee, my beloved? Pardon me, I pray thee, for my utter
brutality. May the Olympian Jove himself punish me for my momentary
wickedness, yea may the beloved Venus in her divine mercy forgive me
for this sacrilege of her most wondrous work, thy lovely person. For
know this, Elissa, I vow by all the gods of both Rome and Carthage
that I would not willingly harm a single hair of thy head. It is not
thus indeed that I would have thee, and I did lie to thee just now.
For ’tis, indeed, my whole heart and soul which are burning with
passion, it is that spiritual part of thee which thou dost deny me
that I would possess rather even than the earthly tenement wherein it
is contained. Now wilt thou forgive me, dear one, and give me but that
one little word of love I saw trembling on thy lips a short while
since?” He pressed her hand tenderly, and never had he looked more
noble than at that moment.
But Elissa would not melt. She looked down without the slightest
change upon her stony features.
“I have said all I have to say, my lord. I told thee that I am thy
slave; I now tell thee, Scipio, that I do not love thee. But I am
thine, if thou so will it, according to the promise I made to thee in
Numidia.”
Scipio rose to his feet, dropped her hand, and spoke with great and
self-contained dignity.
“Then be it so, Elissa; thou art my slave--nothing more! but never
shall it be said that a Scipio knew not how to master himself, nor how
to treat even an unwilling slave-girl with respect.” And he left her.
When he was gone, Elissa’s whole face changed. With the agony of
despair she threw herself upon her knees, and buried her face in the
cushions.
“Oh, Melcareth! great and invisible Melcareth! forgive me the
lie!--forgive me the lie! For I love him, and thou who hast made me as
I am dost know it. But mine honour forbade me to utter the word that
would have made both him and me happy--oh, so happy! Oh, Tanais! thou,
too, goddess of love, forgive me the dreadful lie!” and she wept
bitterly.
And thus on her knees Cleandra found her some time after. For, as
frequently happens to good women, the unhappy Elissa, in striving to
do that which according to her conscience seemed to her to be right,
had unjustly inflicted equal suffering upon herself and upon the man
who adored her.
After this painful interview Scipio saw very little of the captive
Elissa, whom, however, he ordered to be treated with the greatest
deference, in no way taking advantage of the situation to treat her,
as she herself had demanded, as a mere slave.
He himself, while constantly exercising the men under his command in
military tactics, was always thinking how he should dispose of her
person. For all hopes of making her his wife with her own consent
were, to his great distress of mind, at an end, and his character was
too noble to admit of his taking her in any other way.
The soldiers at this period suffered considerably from the morose
humour into which he fell, and there was no end to their exercisings
and drillings. By these incessant occupations, however, he soon got
his army into a most excellent state of training, and then he
determined to march northward again to Tarraco, and prosecute the war
against Hasdrubal and Mago. At length he made up his mind about
Elissa.
Summoning his friend Caius Lælius before him one day, he spoke as
follows:
“Caius, thou hast been my dearest companion from earliest boyhood, and
from thee I have no secrets. Therefore, it is nothing new to tell thee
the great unhappiness with which it hath pleased the gods to afflict
me, owing to the immense and fruitless love that I bear to the
Carthaginian maiden. Now, having communed with the gods and offered
sacrifices, I plainly see that her continued presence anywhere near me
is enervating to me, both as a man and a warrior, rendering me unfit
to continue in the command of a large body of troops, and to properly
protect the destinies of our nation. I have therefore, my friend,
determined to send her away from me entirely, and thou must take her.
When I march northward to Tarraco the fleet also will return thither.
The exception will be thine own vessel and two others to form thine
escort. On the former thou shalt take Elissa and thine own slave girl,
Cleandra. On the two other ships will be embarked the Carthaginian
Captain Mago, who surrendered the citadel to us, and fourteen others
of the superior officers whose names I have noted. They are to be
divided between the two ships, and kept, by all means, from access
with Elissa, that there may be no chance of any combination between
them to escape or to raise a tumult on board.
“Thou wilt sail hence in two days’ time, and as the war between
Carthage and Rome hath now broken out with great and renewed fury in
Sicily, thou wilt first of all, taking all due precaution, visit the
Sicilian ports of Panormus, Lilybæum, Agrigentum, and Syracuse, and
acquaint the Roman consuls, or the commanders now in possession of or
besieging those places of our great success here. Should they be able
to spare any troops to reinforce us, then point out to them the
advisability of sending us forthwith as many men as possible, in order
that I may complete the conquest of Spain, and, above all things, be
able to prevent Hasdrubal from marching to Italy. For I have
information that he is thinking of leaving the defence of Iberia to
his brother Mago, himself following in his brother Hannibal’s
footsteps, and marching through Gallia and over the Alps to reinforce
Hannibal, wherever he may be in Italia. After accomplishing these
missions, thou wilt sail through the straits, between Messana and
Rhegium, and landing at the most convenient port, disembark with thy
captives and the spoils of New Carthage which I shall send, and
proceed instantly to Rome. There thou wilt acquaint the Senate of all
that is needful, and, with their approval, which cannot be withheld,
wilt lodge Hannibal’s daughter in the house of my mother to remain a
prisoner until my return, whenever it may please the gods to allow me
to see my native land once more. And I do beseech thee, for our great
friendship’s sake, to beg my mother, as she loveth me, to see to it
that Elissa’s captivity be not made unbearable to her, but that she be
treated with all fitting kindness.”
“Ay, that will I promise faithfully, Scipio. But stay, I have an idea!
Why shouldst not thou hand over the command of the land forces to me
and take the girl thyself? Our rank is so nearly equal that the Senate
could say nought. In sooth, I think it would be wiser so; and thou
wilt have far more prospect of obtaining new reinforcements when thou
dost arrive in person with the news of thy great victory. And then
during the voyage, who knows, the girl may relent, and, perhaps, long
before its termination, of her own free will throw herself into thine
arms. For Cleandra hath informed me--the wench speaks Latin well,
by-the-bye--that she doth believe that deep down in her heart this
Elissa doth really love thee. It would be a grand opportunity to make
sure of her affection.”
Scipio’s face flushed; he sprang from his seat, and clasped Lælius by
the hand.
“And why not, indeed?” he cried; “I thank thee, Caius. Thou art every
whit as able a leader of men as am I. Our rank is equal, too; and ’tis
true that were I to go in person now, just after taking New Carthage,
I should carry greater weight than thee in the matter of the
reinforcements. It seemeth not only feasible but right.”
Scipio looked happier than he had done for days; he looked like a
scholar who had obtained an unexpected holiday. Lælius, who was
delighted to see him thus, warmly returned the pressure of his hand.
Alas! Scipio’s joy was not long-lived, and the joyous expression soon
left his face as reason came to his aid.
“Nay, nay,” he continued, with a deep sigh, “it may not be, my dear
friend Caius, for, put it which way thou choosest, ’twould be really
leaving my post for the sake of a woman. And ’twould surely end most
miserably. For supposing the girl were to continue to prove
recalcitrant, it could but end in tragedy, perchance in the death of
Elissa herself, or mine own suicide, or maybe both. For the madness of
this love hath gotten such a hold upon me, I could not bear to live by
her side day by day knowing her mine, and yet not mine! I will not
risk it, either for my own sake or Elissa’s; it would indeed be trying
myself too high. ’Tis thou who must take her, and I must suffer here
alone.”
Thus was the matter decided, and Scipio himself that day communicated
his decision to Elissa, in Cleandra’s presence. He spoke to her so
kindly, so nobly, showing, moreover, so plainly that in this great act
of self-abnegation in sending her away he was thinking as much of her
as of himself, that Elissa’s long-sustained pride broke down. The
tears came to her eyes.
“Oh, Scipio!” she cried, “would that things might have been different!
Yet are we both but the servants of the gods, and must obey the divine
will, and bow our heads beneath the almighty hand. Would that I could
come to thee with honour, and lay my hand in thine. But thou knowest
that with honour I cannot, I may not, do so. And were I known to thee
to be a woman without honour, thou wouldst neither love me nor respect
me as thou dost now. Moreover, the gods would themselves despise me.
But, Scipio, the gods cannot prevent my giving thee a sister’s love.
And daily for thy great, thy noble treatment of me while here, thy
prisoner and thy slave, will I call down upon my beloved brother’s
head the blessings of the most high and invisible Melcareth, and pray
and beseech him to protect thee from all dangers. And now as a sister
only will I embrace thee with a sacred kiss.”
She threw her arms about his neck, and they stood thus awhile,
mingling their tears together, while clinging in a close embrace,
which for all Elissa’s brave words, could scarcely be deemed that of
mere brother and sister.
Cleandra, kind-hearted girl that she was, utterly overcome by this sad
and pathetic scene, sobbed audibly in a corner of the chamber.
At length they separated.
Saying, in a heart-broken voice, “I accept the compact, then fare thee
well, oh, Elissa, for we must meet now no more,” Scipio withdrew.
Two days later, without seeing him again, Elissa embarked upon the
flagship with Lælius, and that same day Scipio marched for Tarraco.
END OF PART IV.
PART V.
CHAPTER I.
TO SYRACUSE.
When Elissa left New Carthage, with the prospect before her of
becoming a lifelong prisoner in Rome, the war was indeed, as Scipio
had said, raging with fury both in Sicily and Italy. For it is a
matter of the greatest astonishment how, in spite of the terrible
reverses which she had suffered on Italian soil, Rome pulled herself
together for renewed efforts, not only in Italy, then occupied by a
successful invading army, but for a continuation of the conflict upon
foreign shores. Thus she sent forth fleets and armies to Sardinia, to
Spain, and to Sicily, and the Carthaginians, encouraged to renewed
exertions by the glorious battle of Cannæ, did likewise.
Thus war was being carried on, at the same time, in all parts of the
Mediterranean.
It was raging, too, on Numidian soil, where the kings, Syphax and
Massinissa, were now fighting against each other.
Scipio had concluded a treaty with Massinissa, who was fighting
therefore nominally in the interests of Rome, against Carthage; but,
in reality, in rage and disappointment at the loss of the beautiful
Sophonisba, whom he had vowed should be his. In the end, Massinissa
was eventually successful in a pitched battle against his uncle, the
kind-hearted Syphax, whom he slew, and thereupon he seized upon the
fair Sophonisba, whom he promptly forced to be his own unwilling
spouse.
Scipio, not thinking it was wise that his ally Massinissa should have
in his household a Carthaginian wife, sent him a message that he
should send her away to her own country; but rather than lose her,
Massinissa presented the unfortunate girl with a cup of poison, and
ordered her to drink it.
Remarking placidly that it seemed an inappropriate end for the bride
of two kings, but that anything was better than life itself, poor
Sophonisba gladly swallowed the poison, and died in agony.
Elissa, while sailing along the coast of Sicily, reflected sadly on
this tragedy.
“Such,” she thought, “is the fate of humanity, and the ruling of the
gods cannot be foretold. Therefore, as in the very hour of greatest
prosperity sudden and great reverses may be awaiting us, it behoveth
us all never to neglect the service of those omnipotent rulers of our
being.”
Thus reflected Elissa when she looked back upon her own sudden fall
from a position of almost regal rank to the state of a mere prisoner
of war being deported to a foreign land.
At this time the war in Sicily centred round the enormous and powerful
city of Syracuse, which had, with all its surrounding territory,
remained, under King Hiero, an independent kingdom for no less than
fifty years past. In the previous Punic war, when every other city in
Sicily fell, first to one power then to another, neither Roman nor
Carthaginian had ever been able to set foot within its walls. And this
was chiefly owing to the wisdom of King Hiero himself, who, after
various sieges and conflicts with each power in turn, concluded an
alliance with Rome, which he maintained throughout his long reign of
fifty years’ duration. But Hiero being dead, and succeeded by his
grandson Hieronymus, all this was soon changed.
The young king was a debauched youth with an overweening idea of his
own importance, and he openly insulted the ambassadors who came to him
from Rome to seek a renewal of the old alliance. Insolently asking
them, “What account the Romans had been able to give of themselves at
Cannæ?” he declared for Carthage.
The city of Syracuse being full of intrigue, some wishing to remain
faithful to Rome, others to attach themselves to Carthage, while all
alike were disgusted with the cruelties and debauchery of the young
king; the latter was soon assassinated, as were also all the
princesses of the royal family, including Hiero’s daughter Demarata,
and his grand-daughter Harmonia, and their respective husbands
Andranodorus and Themistius.
Heraclea, the youngest daughter of Hiero, and her two beautiful
daughters were murdered with the greatest brutality, after a terrible
struggle; but no sooner were they dead than a messenger arrived from
the magistrates who had ordered their murder, but had now relented, to
stay the execution, for the very people themselves, who had been
thirsting for all the royal blood a short time before, had now turned
round upon the magistrates who had ordered the crime and ousted them,
calling for the election of new pretors in place of the massacred
Andranodorus and Themistius.
And thus it came to pass that two young generals, brothers, named
Hippocrates and Epicydes, who were envoys from Hannibal to the
Syracusans, came to be elected into power. These two young men were
Syracusans themselves on the father’s side, but their mother was a
Carthaginian, and they had been brought up in Carthage, where Cleandra
had known them well while living there with her husband. They had
already been at the bottom of the plotting and the counter-plotting
against Rome, and although there were still various parties in the
city, upon their election, after various vicissitudes and some
fighting within the walls, they contrived to completely embroil the
whole of the inhabitants with Rome. This was done by Hippocrates
openly attacking, with Syracusan soldiers, a body of troops belong to
the Roman consul, Appius Claudius, which the latter had sent to
protect his allies in the neighbouring city of Leontini. Epicydes also
repaired to Leontini, and by specious arguments persuaded the
inhabitants of Leontini to rise against Rome.
Meanwhile the other Roman consul, Marcus Marcellus, he who used to be
known by the title of “The Sword of Rome,” who was in the vicinity
with a large force, demanded from the Syracusans the surrender of the
two brothers, who had dared to attack Roman troops while a state of
peace, or at all events of truce, existed between Syracuse and Rome.
But the Syracusans pretending that they had no authority to give up
the two brothers, as they were now in the free city of Leontini, the
two Roman consuls attacked the last mentioned city and stormed it. But
the two brothers escaped, and with their usual cleverness persuaded
the force of six hundred Cretans, who were with the Syracusan force,
which, in the Roman interest, had been sent to capture them, to join
their own standard against Rome. And the Cretans in turn persuaded the
other Syracusan troops to join them also.
Thus had Hippocrates and Epicydes contrived to completely embroil
Syracuse with Rome, and when the ships of Caius Lælius with Elissa on
board arrived at the port of Syracuse, they found that the gates of
the city were shut, and that it was about to be invested both by sea
and land by the two Roman consuls, while the two brothers were supreme
within the city, and had on their side a large body of Roman soldiers
who had deserted to Syracuse.
Throughout the sea voyage of Elissa and Cleandra, Caius Lælius had
faithfully kept his promise to Scipio, and treated Hannibal’s daughter
with the greatest respect and kindness. They had visited in turn
various ports upon the coasts of Sicily, and the Roman flag-ship and
the two other vessels had on a recent occasion narrowly escaped
capture at the hands of a Carthaginian squadron off the seaport of
Lilybæum. Unfortunately for Elissa, however, Caius Lælius had, after
a sea-fight, contrived to make good his escape, although he himself
had received a severe wound from a sling during the action. By this
wound he was for a time quite incapacitated, and thus was confined to
his cabin when his ships arrived off Syracuse. Now during the voyage
he had become much attached to Cleandra, whom, it may be remembered,
knew the Latin tongue well. She was ever about him, nursing him when
sick in his cabin, and Lælius, taking no notice of her presence,
freely discussed before her the whole state of affairs with his flag
captain, an officer by name Labeo Ascanius. Hence she soon learned the
whole condition of affairs, and, moreover, that her two friends, the
brothers Hippocrates and Epicydes, were in possession of the city of
Syracuse.
With her usual quick-wittedness Cleandra soon set about devising a
means for the escape of Elissa and herself from the ship; for however
kind Lælius might be himself to the two ladies, they were, none the
less, prisoners, and likely to be so for life. Their future fate was
uncertain; only one thing seemed certain, that they would infallibly
be separated from each other upon arrival in Rome.
Now it so happened that not only Caius Lælius but also his
flag-captain, Labeo Ascanius, had, during the voyage, become much
enamoured of Cleandra, whose beauty had increased rather than
diminished during the four or five years which had elapsed since her
flight from New Carthage to Old Carthage. While the Admiral Lælius
was well, this officer had had no opportunity of expressing his
admiration of Cleandra, but she had, none the less, been perfectly
well aware of the fact, and had determined, if possible, to utilise
it.
Now that his chief was utterly incapacitated and he himself in supreme
command, Ascanius had every opportunity of conversing with and making
love to Cleandra, who, while using great discretion lest any of the
other officers or seamen should observe anything, made opportunities
herself, and encouraged him with all the wiles of a clever woman,
still, however, keeping him, in a certain measure, at a distance, and
not granting all the favours that he sought of her. At length the
Roman became, through her artifices, so inflamed with passion that he
told her that he would do anything in the world for her sake if she
would but be his. Cleandra, not yet sure of him, did not show him her
hand, but, the better to bend him to her will, secretly and repeatedly
stirred up Caius Lælius against him on various pretexts, and
especially by false reports that she gave him about what was going on
in the ship during his own illness. Thus Lælius, being rendered
peevish by sickness, on several occasions unjustly found great fault
with Ascanius, who became, in turn, incensed against his commander. He
did not suspect Cleandra of being the cause of these reports, but his
first lieutenant, a man of great probity, named Horatius Calvinus.
At length one day, after Lælius had once again found fault unjustly
with his flag-captain, Ascanius, going forth in a rage, accused
Calvinus of being the traitor who falsely accused him to the admiral,
and, listening to no excuses, put him in irons, treating him with the
greatest indignity.
Now was Cleandra’s opportunity. She had learned from Labeo Ascanius
himself that his own brother, named Caius Ascanius, formerly a
centurion in the troops under Marcellus, was among those who had
deserted to the Carthaginian flag, and was now with her friends,
Hippocrates and Epicydes, in the city. She took good care not to
inform Lælius about his flag-captain having put Calvinus in irons,
for it suited her better that he should remain there. However, she
falsely informed Ascanius in the afternoon that the Admiral had
learned the fact, and had announced to her his intention of publicly
degrading him on the following morning, and of placing Calvinus over
his head.
Then she plainly proposed to him that to escape from such an unjust
degradation he should leave the ship that very night and join his
brother. He could take her and Elissa with him in a boat, and, under
pretence that he was acting under the admiral’s orders, and about to
deliver them over to Appius Claudius, the Roman Consul commanding the
fleet that had just arrived, row them ashore, and land at the city
steps in the port. These steps, as could be plainly seen from the
ships, were protected by a guard of Carthaginian soldiers. As he would
be steersman himself, Ascanius could, she pointed out, easily direct
the boat to the steps. She suggested he should only take two men, and
they such as were faithful to himself. As a reward for his saving
them, Cleandra promised to become his wife so soon as they should
land. Thus was the plot laid, and Ascanius agreed willingly to
Cleandra’s proposals.
That very night, after dark had set in, did Ascanius take the two
ladies, who had with them nought save their jewels, to shore in a
boat. And upon their arrival at the steps, and Elissa proclaiming
aloud in the Carthaginian tongue her name and quality, she was
instantly most warmly welcomed with her companions. Thus was their
escape successfully contrived by Cleandra’s cleverness, and that night
they supped with Hippocrates and Epicydes.
Hippocrates and Epicydes took them to the house of Archimedes, the
ancient mathematician, to whose wonderful genius the excellent state
of the defences of the city was mainly attributable. Archimedes
welcomed them most hospitably, and Cleandra’s promise to Ascanius was
immediately redeemed by her becoming his wife that very night, his
brother Caius and others being invited to the wedding-feast at
midnight, when was much festivity. But Cleandra, while thanking her
new husband for having rescued her from a life-long slavery, took good
care not to inform him by what wiles she had won him to her will. And
he, imagining that he had escaped an unjust degradation on the morrow,
and being convinced that he had won for his wife the woman whom he
loved, and moreover that she loved him with equal passion, felt no
qualms of conscience whatever at his desertion from the Roman
standard. Even if he had felt any, were not his own brother and
hundreds of other Roman soldiers present who had joined the
Carthaginian cause without any of the provocation that he had himself
received? He had been, for his part, at least so he believed, merely
forced to an act of self-preservation.
On the following day Hippocrates appointed Ascanius to a command in
his forces, for, as were all the other deserters in the city, he was
now so irretrievably committed that nought but crucifixion or torture
could be his lot should he ever again fall into the hands of his own
compatriots. There was, therefore, no fear of any treachery to
Syracuse on the part of the deserters; it was indeed they who, by
fighting to the very last, were mainly instrumental in beating off the
assailants for a period of at least three years.
In the meantime, the sage Archimedes had welcomed Elissa and her
followers within his hospitable walls, and a considerable sum of money
for her maintenance was at once voted by the Senate under the
direction of Hippocrates and Epicydes. Archimedes occupied a palace in
the city proper, which was named Achradina, whereas the port whereon
Elissa had landed on the previous night abutted on Achradina, and was
known as Ortygia or the island. They were, in fact, two separate
towns, each surrounded by a wall. There were, in addition, two large
suburbs surrounded by separate walls, and named respectively Tycha and
Neapolis, and the whole city was enclosed by an outside wall no less
than eighteen miles in circumference; thus some idea can be formed of
its size and the difficulty of a besieging force in investing it.
There were two harbours, the greater and the lesser, and while Caius
Lælius had joined the Roman fleet under Appius Claudius in the lesser
harbour, the Carthaginian fleet, under an admiral named Bomilcar, was
riding securely at anchor under the walls in the larger one.
Elissa soon learned that, while Marcus Marcellus was threatening the
city with a large Roman land force on one side, there were on the
other hand, for its protection, a large number of Carthaginian troops,
encamped close at hand under the command of a general named Himilco.
There was thus, at first at all events, no danger to be apprehended of
the city falling. In fact, the siege had not begun--it was an
attempted blockade at best; and by means of the fleet, free
communication was, for a considerable time, established with the
outside world. Ships were constantly coming and going from both
Carthage and Italy, and although there were occasional small sea
fights, yet, owing to the preponderance of the Phœnician ships, the
port was virtually open.
Being now only about ninety miles away from the city of Carthage, on
the opposite African coast, Elissa was sorely tempted to risk sailing
thither to visit the land of her ancestors, which she had never yet
seen. From taking this step, however, she was dissuaded by the prudent
Cleandra, who assured her that the enemies of her race were far too
strong in Carthage for her to venture alone and unprotected within
that noble city. For Hannibal’s very successes had made the
anti-Barcine party more bitter than ever against him.
Elissa was, however, now able to communicate with her father direct,
for hearing that the inhabitants of the city of Capua had recently
surrendered to him, she wrote to Hannibal there, acquainting him in
full of all that had taken place, and of her now being at Syracuse.
Moreover she offered, should he see fit, to leave Syracuse and join
him at Capua, in which city she learned that he had established
himself with his whole army, intending to remain there for the winter.
It was some considerable time before Elissa received from Hannibal any
reply to her letter, but it came at length, just as the spring was
commencing.
Hannibal’s letter, which was written by the hand of his friend and
scribe Silenus, was so lengthy that it would be impossible to
transcribe it here. In it, however, after applauding her for her
bravery upon many occasions, and commiserating with her deeply upon
the fall of New Carthage, he informed her that his own army was
constantly decreasing in numbers, and was also, to his great
annoyance, considerably deteriorated in its quality by the ease and
delights which the men had experienced during a whole winter passed in
the enervating atmosphere of the pleasure-loving city of Capua. He
complained bitterly of the small number of reinforcements that had
reached him from Carthage, and urged her to remain in Syracuse, and
there, by her presence and example, inspire the garrison and the
Carthaginian troops, whether of the land forces under Himilco or the
sea forces under Bomilcar, to heroic and continued efforts against
Claudius and Marcellus. By this means he pointed out that the Roman
troops now in Sicily would be compelled to remain there, and thus be
unable to cross over into Italy to assist the Romans in prosecuting
the war against himself. He informed her further that unless some
reinforcements arrived to help him before long he would soon be
obliged to content himself with merely defensive operations at the
ports he had already captured, but that in that case it would be a
matter of great importance that he should be able to make an ally of
some foreign power who would be willing to fight with him against
Rome. And none, he added, seemed to him so fitting for this purpose as
the young King Philip V. of Macedon, who was now constantly engaged in
wars of his own in Illyria, or against the various leagues in the
Peloponnesus of Greece. These, Hannibal pointed out, Philip seemed in
a fair way to subdue, and when he had done so, a young prince of so
much ambition would doubtless require a new field whither he might
direct his successful arms. Therefore, since it seemed to Hannibal
that Elissa by her position on the sea at Syracuse might possibly
sooner or later be able to obtain an opportunity of either sending an
embassy to Philip, or personally going to meet him, he enclosed a
document, giving her full powers on his own behalf to enter into a
treaty of offensive and defensive alliance with the Macedonian.
In conclusion, Hannibal gave to his daughter news of Sosilus, of
Silenus, and Chœras, all of whom, he said, had hitherto survived the
hardships of the long-continued war. Of Maharbal he merely said that
he continued to be, as formerly, as his own right arm in all matters
appertaining to the war, and that he now looked forward to a period
when peace might be assured, that he might reward the fidelity of the
Numidian general by giving to him her, Elissa’s, hand in marriage.
Hannibal added that Maharbal was writing to her on his own behalf.
Having read her father’s epistle, Elissa turned to her lover’s letter.
Within its pages Maharbal breathed forth such unswerving and
straightforward devotion, such absolute faith and trust in herself and
her integrity and honour, that before it was half finished she thanked
the gods a thousand times that they had inspired her with sufficient
strength to remain faithful to this man who had been such an
invaluable aid to Hannibal in assisting him to maintain ever to the
fore the honour and glory of Carthage. But her cheek burned with shame
even as she read. For she realised to her sorrow that whatever honour
had prompted her to do in the past or might prompt her to do in the
future, she would nevertheless far rather have received those burning
lines of love and devotion from the hand of Scipio, the enemy of her
father and her country, than from the hand of Maharbal, the brave
upholder of her country’s honour and her father’s life-long friend.
But such is life, and such are the hearts of women, and despite her
burning cheek Elissa knew that since she had ever behaved most
straightforwardly and honourably by her absent lover she had done
Maharbal no wrong.
Just after she received these letters, the investment of Syracuse by
the Romans was commenced with great determination on the land side and
the sea side alike. Thus was no opportunity given to Elissa for any
reply, neither did she have any means at her command for establishing
any understanding with Philip of Macedon.
CHAPTER II.
FROM SYRACUSE TO MACEDON.
Archimedes, the great mathematician, was a little old man, now
nearly ninety years of age. He, however, maintained to the full all
his powers, both physical and mental. He still seemed to have in his
frame the strength of a man not much over fifty, while his brain was
by far brighter and clearer than that of any of the young men of the
more modern schools. In appearance his eye was bright, his cheek rosy,
while his face, although wrinkled, was not by any means wrinkled to
excess. He was alert and active on his feet, scarcely ever seemed to
require any rest, and not only enjoyed a healthy appetite, but could,
when occasion required, sit up late and join the young bloods of the
day in a carouse, without seeming to feel any ill effects upon the
morrow. He was, at the time of Elissa’s visit, married, for the third
time, to a young wife, and he had sons well advanced in middle age,
employed in every branch of the Government service.
He had been the counsellor of King Hiero during the whole of that
monarch’s reign of fifty years’ duration, and, owing to his own
abilities and the munificence of his royal master, Archimedes had,
during that long period, been able to bring the defences of the city
of Syracuse to a state of perfection little dreamt of by its enemies.
Such was the old man whose abilities the Roman leaders had not taken
into account before they so lightly entered upon the siege of the
fairest city in the whole of Sicily. However, they soon found out, by
experience, that one man’s genius is sometimes more effective than
mere numbers.
A terrible plague had been raging for some time in both armies before
the Romans attempted to push the attack home, and this plague had
attacked the defenders and the outside Carthaginian troops far more
severely than it had the Romans themselves, for the land forces of the
latter were encamped upon higher and better ground, while the sailors
on the ships, by keeping out to sea, did not suffer so severely. It
had, nevertheless, been an awful time for both parties, and for a long
while terror and absolute desolation had reigned supreme. At length,
however, the plague abated, after committing the most awful ravages,
during which the rotting dead lay piled in unburied heaps, alike in
the streets of the city and the interior of the several camps. But
before it had abated nearly all the Carthaginian land forces were
dead, and both the generals, Himilco and Hippocrates, were among those
who had been carried off.
Archimedes and Epicydes were untouched, nor did either Elissa or
Cleandra suffer from the contagion. The husband of the latter,
Ascanius, however, was among those who had succumbed, and thus was the
fair Cleandra once again a widow.
Before long the old man, Archimedes, was left in sole command at
Syracuse, for Epicydes, having embarked on board a ship, and joined
the fleet with Bomilcar, the Carthaginian admiral, endeavoured to
induce him to attack the Romans. But Bomilcar, instead of fighting,
fled upon the first approach of the Romans, under Marcellus, off Cape
Pachynum, without striking a single blow.
Hereupon Epicydes, being ashamed to return to Syracuse, took refuge in
the town of Agrigentum, all his mighty hopes being foiled in a moment.
And now some of those within the walls wished to deliver the town over
to Marcellus. But Elissa stirred up the remaining Carthaginians in the
garrison, and the Roman deserters and the mercenaries, so that they
would not hear of surrender, and old Archimedes himself declared that
he would destroy with infinite torture, by some newly-invented device
of his own, any such as he should discover in treating with the enemy.
No terms could be therefore made by the malcontents.
As the ships under Claudius were just preparing to attack, Archimedes
took Elissa with him round the walls, showing her all the ingenious
devices which his brain had imagined and contrived. The walls were
crowded with trained men ready to obey his behest. And as the old man
showed her all his inventions, she groaned aloud.
“Why dost thou groan thus, oh Lady Elissa?” inquired Archimedes,
smiling. “Thinkest thou that I have not here got together sufficient
engines of defence wherewith to smash up and repel all such engines of
offence as the Romans can bring wherewith to batter down these walls?
Forgive me if I differ from thee, for I think that should not
treachery from within show them the way to the kernel, they will find
Syracuse the hardest nut that ever they had to crack.”
And he smiled again, as he tried the working of a lever to one of his
machines, and turning, casually ordered a workman to give it a little
oil.
“Nay, my lord Archimedes! it was no such thought as that, but the
contrary, that made me groan,” replied Elissa. “I groaned because I
had thee not with me when Scipio attacked my city of New Carthage, for
hadst thou but been there the town could never have fallen.”
“Maybe, maybe,” said the old man, looking pleased; “but come, let me
show thee the working of the engines. These thou seest are a series of
catapults constructed to suit every range. Let us try them to see if
they go well.”
An infinite number of missiles of every size had been carefully
constructed for years past, and these were all lying ready to hand.
The Roman fleet were anchored in the port at a distance from the walls
which they thought perfectly safe, but the old man with his keen eye
detected a ship that was a little closer than the others.
“Ha, ha!” he said, rubbing his hands, “they think themselves safe, but
my No. 1 catapult here is suited to that range exactly.”
Causing a huge mass of metal to be placed on the propeller of the
catapult, and personally adjusting the weapon, Archimedes caused the
spring to be released. Instantly the ten talents of lead flew hurtling
through the air, and alighting on the deck of the ship, not only
crushed two men in its fall, but knocked a hole clean through its
further side, through which the water commenced to rush in. In a few
moments, hardly allowing time to permit the terror-stricken crew to
take to the boats, the ship sunk.
“Excellent!” quoth the old man. “What dost think of that for accuracy,
lady Elissa? Now let us try some of the smaller catapults. Those boats
are rowing in nearer to us, thinking in error that my engines are only
contrived for long distances. We will try, therefore, a No. 2 and a
No. 3 catapult with smaller missiles made to suit the range.”
Again two weapons were discharged, and now two boats were sent to the
bottom, the sailors after struggling for a few minutes sinking also.
“They will do, they will do!” cried the old man, in glee; “but
catapults are, after all, but an old device. Now will I show thee
something new, for as thou dost perceive, all the ships of the enemy,
being irritated by me, now are rowing towards the walls to assault,
and some of them bear at their bow long and wide ladders, with
pent-houses at their ends, which they can rear, by pulleys from the
mast-head, against our walls. Others, again, have battering-rams with
which to charge the foundations. We can leave those with the long
ladders, which the Romans call sambucæ or harps, and pay our
attention first to yonder vessel in front with the battering-ram. See,
it approaches us. Now, my men, ready with the crane. Swing round!”
As the ship, propelled by the rowers, came quite close to the wall, a
huge crane swung easily round on a pivot. A heavy chain hung from its
end, to which was attached a huge pair of open hands formed of iron.
These hands descended above the prow of the doomed vessel.
“Press!” cried Archimedes.
Instantly the iron hands seized the prow of the vessel in an iron
grip.
“Raise!” cried Archimedes.
At once, by the mechanism of the machine, the prow of the vessel was
raised clean up into the air, all the sailors on deck tumbling off the
stern into the sea.
“Fasten!” cried the old man.
The ship remained fastened thus in a bolt upright position, the
sailors meanwhile drowning all around its stern.
“Let go!” cried the old mechanician.
A spring was pressed, the iron hands relaxed their grip, and the bow
of the ship fell back into the sea with a terrible splash. The ship at
once filled with water and sunk, all of the rowers between decks being
drowned.
“Two ships already! not bad for a beginning! Now let us pay attention
to the sambucæ or harps. Thou seest, lady Elissa, that the wide
ladders are reared from the outer bulwarks of two ships lashed close
to each other, the oars on the inner sides being removed. There are
already four men standing protected, with removable shields, in the
pent-house, while many more are waiting to rush up as soon as those
four men step forth upon our battlements. We will let them approach,
and then they shall see that ’tis not so easy to storm Syracuse.”
In another minute two ships bearing a sambuca came quite close to the
battlements, at a point where there seemed to be no engines of defence
to resist the attack. For none were indeed visible.
No sooner had the pent-house been placed against the wall than a
hundred men commenced swarming up the wide ladder, while the four men
in the pent-house at the top removed the shields in front of their
platform preparatory to springing on to the battlements.
“Raise and discharge!” cried Archimedes.
In a second an engine, hitherto concealed, reared itself from behind
the walls, swung over the top of the pent-house, and released an
enormous stone some half-ton in weight.
This stone smashed through the roof of the pent-house, carried those
within it and all the armed men on the ladder down with it in a
mangled and bleeding mass, and then, falling upon the fore-part of one
of the vessels, inflicted serious damage to the ship.
Instantly, in the greatest consternation, the two ships backed their
oars and retreated, being pursued by discharges from catapults at
successive ranges, and fired at also by numberless scorpions concealed
behind the walls, through which small holes had been constructed at
the height of the decks of the ships to enable the scorpion-bearers to
fire, without themselves being seen or liable to injury.
The action had now become general. On every side Roman ships were
advancing, and soon all the engines of every kind upon the walls
facing the harbour were in full play. At length, after a most terrible
loss in both men and ships, the remains of the Roman fleet retreated
in disorder, well out of range.
Thus did Archimedes show Elissa his methods for efficiently protecting
a walled city from assault by sea.
On the land side Marcellus was making a combined attack, and
attempting to storm the walls with scaling ladders. But there also
Archimedes had engines of every description, and his iron hands struck
terror into the stormers by seizing them, all iron-clad as they were,
and, after poising them for awhile in mid-air, letting them fall
again, when they were crushed to pieces. At length, the besiegers on
the land side also fell back utterly disheartened, all their
battering-rams and every other kind of weapon of offence being
destroyed, while quantities of their number lay dead or dying at the
foot of the walls.
After a few more attempts at storming the town, which were invariably
repelled in a similar manner, any further attempt at taking the city
by a _coup de main_ was utterly abandoned by the Roman generals. After
this they only maintained a close blockade. Thus for several years did
Syracuse maintain its freedom; but at length, after the inhabitants
being nearly starved, the city fell by treason from within. For a
certain Mericus, a Spanish governor of one of the forts, disclosed to
the enemy that a three days’ feast in honour of Diana was ordained,
and that Epicydes, who had returned to the city, had directed that a
large quantity of wine should be served out to every one of the
defenders for want of food. Thus, when all the garrison were drunk,
from drinking without eating, the walls of the suburb were stormed
near Hexapylos without resistance, and many of the garrison were
slaughtered in their drunken sleep. Achradina, being held by deserters
and the mercenaries, did not, however yet yield, and many most
terrible and bloody counter-attacks were made upon the Romans by
gallant sallies, headed in person by Elissa. At length, Epicydes
having fled, the principal inhabitants attempted to yield up the city
to Marcellus, whereupon the deserters and mercenaries attacked the
Syracusan prætors, and others who were traitors, and slew them.
But now Mericus the Spaniard opened by night the gates of his post in
Achradina, which was situated near the fountain of Arethusa, and let
the Romans in. Although the consul Marcellus had given instructions
that the life of Archimedes was to be spared, an ignorant and brutal
soldier slew him as he was leaning over his table intently studying a
problem.
After fighting in the streets at the head of a body of faithful
Spanish mercenaries until half of their number were slain, Elissa made
her way successfully down to the great port, where she embarked with
the remainder upon a quinquereme which she had duly prepared in
advance, and whereon, fearing the worst, she had already some days
past caused Cleandra to embark with all their money and valuables. And
it being still dark, they were able, by rowing very gently, to pass
unperceived through the ships of the Roman fleet and so to make the
open sea. Then, heading eastward, a strong west wind aiding, they made
for Greece. Sailing round the south of the Peloponnesus, they arrived
without mishap at the port of Nauplia.
Learning at that place that King Philip of Macedon had, after first
finishing a campaign against the Ætolians, just returned from the
celebrated Nemean games, and was now at the adjacent town of Argos,
Elissa repaired thither with all her men. Sending forward a herald
several miles in advance, she demanded an audience of the young king.
This, from having long since heard by repute of the great beauty of
Hannibal’s daughter, he was only too glad to grant, and at once sent
back heralds in return with friendly messages and assurances of good
will, informing Elissa that he would himself in an hour’s time ride
forth to meet her.
Now this Philip was one of the most libertine of all the Macedonian
kings, and his allies in war, the people of Argos, were at this very
time only too anxious to be rid of him. But, owing to his power and
the necessity they were then under of protection, they were unable to
ask him to go, but had to make the best of things as they were.
Having decked herself with her most becoming raiment and adorned her
person with many beautiful jewels, Hannibal’s daughter, with Cleandra
and her Spanish soldiers, marched forward towards the Macedonian camp
outside Argos.
Elissa was welcomed with great pomp and ceremony by King Philip, who,
in all his royal robes and insignia, and attended by all his
courtiers, advanced to meet her from his magnificent camp, of which
the tents were made of purple silken fabrics interwoven with gold. He
welcomed Hannibal’s daughter as one herself of royal blood.
Philip was a young man of most god-like beauty, and his strength of
sinew, his perfection of face and form, were almost unrivalled by any
man then living. When he came forth to meet Elissa outside his camp he
was mounted on a splendid and richly-caparisoned war-horse, and
surrounded by his courtiers. Further, in order to do Elissa still
greater honour, he had commanded the attendance of Polycratia, who,
while nominally Philip’s queen by marriage with him, was in reality
the wife of one Aratus, from whom she had been illegally divorced.
Polycratia appeared in a gorgeous and most commodious litter, of which
the frame was of silver, and the cushions of the softest down covered
with rose-coloured silk, all being worked through with threads of
silver.
After most courteously saluting Elissa, the king presented her to his
queen, with whom he requested her to mount in the litter; Cleandra
being placed in another splendid litter with one of the young queen’s
principal attendants named Chloe.
Owing to the Greek tongue having been so commonly known in all the
cities of Southern Iberia, and especially in Gades, whence came her
royal mother Camilla, Elissa was able to enjoy the conversation of her
host without any need for an interpreter. Greek had indeed been the
language which both she and Cleandra had been forced to employ during
the whole of their stay in Syracuse.
Thus they were able to converse freely, and as the cavalcade, headed
by a band of musicians, returned to the Macedonian camp, the king,
leaning over from his beautiful charger, lost no time in complimenting
Elissa, with gracefully turned phrases, upon her beauty being greater
even than it was said to be by common report.
Elissa smiled at the compliment, and felt pleased at her beauty being
thus recognised and applauded by this handsome young king; but
Polycratia did not smile. She, knowing the king’s fickleness,
naturally dreaded a rival in Elissa, for she recognised at once that
such beauty as Elissa’s was exceptional; while, owing to her exalted
rank, she was not a woman of whom the king could merely attempt to
make one of his ordinary playthings. A foreboding of evil for herself
filled Polycratia from the very first minute she saw Philip
endeavouring to charm the new-comer with his honied words.
Upon arrival in the camp a magnificent tent, divided into many
apartments, and most luxuriously furnished, which had been already
pitched, was appointed to Elissa and Cleandra. When Elissa would have
posted a guard of her own faithful Spaniards round her pavilion,
Philip would by no means hear of it. Urging that her soldiers were
war-worn and weary, and should now be relieved for a while from their
military duties, he sent them to be distributed among the troops in
different parts of the camp, giving orders for their proper
entertainment. And he posted a guard of honour of his own spearmen
over Elissa’s quarters. By this show of consideration and kindness
Hannibal’s daughter was at first impressed and pleased accordingly;
but the wily Cleandra, who, during the short time she was in the
litter with Chloe, had found out much about the king, viewed this
arrangement with much disfavour. For as she pointed out to Elissa upon
the first opportunity, they were now, from being deprived of their own
trusty followers, reduced to the position of two weak women entirely
at the mercy of the Macedonian. But Elissa quieted her follower’s
fears. She pointed out to Cleandra that if the king should have any
other than honourable designs towards them, which she doubted, it
would not be the presence of some hundred and fifty Iberians in the
middle of a large army of Macedonians which would prevent him from
carrying them out. All that they could do would be to trust to the
king’s honour, and she thanked the gods that he had received them so
honourably and courteously into his camp. For now, continued Elissa,
she had hopes from his kind manner that she might be able to conclude
with him the offensive and defensive alliance concerning which
Hannibal had written to her.
Elissa and Cleandra were entertained at a feast that evening by the
king, and at its conclusion, when Philip was merry with wine, she
proposed the alliance to him. At first, being in a good humour, he
made no objections whatever to such an alliance, and seemed, indeed,
to wish it himself. But, saying that he would talk the matter over
further as they went along, he rose, remarking that he would escort
her with his guards to her tent; nor would he take any refusal.
When he arrived there, Philip, leaving the guards without, entered
with his guest on the pretence of seeing that all his orders had been
complied with. Once within one of the inner apartments of the huge
tent, he threw himself upon a luxurious divan, begged Elissa likewise
to be seated, and suggested to her that she should now send away her
waiting-lady, in order that they might discuss matters of State
together alone.
Cleandra was therefore sent away, and Elissa was left alone with the
king. He had not been alone with her for a minute before Elissa
regretted deeply that she had disembarked at Nauplia or marched to
Argos. For, inflamed as he was with wine, the king dropped his mask at
once, and made love to her violently. When Elissa, surprised, sought
to repel him, he took her in his arms by force, kissed her, and
treated her grossly. Never had Elissa been so insulted since the time
when she had fallen into the hands of the villain Adherbal. But alas!
there was no Maharbal at hand now to protect her.
Furious with rage, Elissa struggled to get free from the king’s arms,
fighting against him with all her strength, for she would have none of
him. At first Philip, being jovial, only laughed good-humouredly at
her struggles, but he became angry as she continued to resist him.
Suddenly releasing her from his arms, he exclaimed furiously:
“Very well, my lady Elissa! if thou wilt have none of mine embraces,
neither will I have any of thy treaties.” And seizing the document
which she had displayed to him, and which had been sent to her by
Hannibal, he tore it into several pieces. Dashing the pieces to the
floor, he spurned them with his heel, and flung himself out of the
tent in a passion.
Elissa, who had fallen exhausted and panting upon a divan, looked at
her torn-up credentials, and realised what she had done. She had
deeply offended this powerful monarch, by whose aid she had hoped she
might restore the now waning fortunes of Carthage. What should she do
now? The early teachings of her father came to her mind. Had he not
often told her that in nought was she ever to think of self where the
welfare of her country was concerned--that not even personal shame was
to be considered in such a case, but that absolutely she was bound
under all circumstances to think of her duty to her country alone, of
herself not at all. And had not the time now come when she must make a
great sacrifice? Was she merely for the sake of her own outraged
vanity--it might even be outraged honour--to desert her country’s
cause when such a mighty issue was at stake?
“No!” Elissa cried violently, springing to her feet. “If ever I must
sacrifice myself for my country I must sacrifice myself now, and the
gods will forgive me, for ’twill be for the glory of Carthage.”
Thus her resolve was made as she realised her duty. And then she
covered her eyes with her hands and wept softly. For she was thinking
of Scipio, who loved her so dearly, and whom she knew in her heart she
loved, and of the honour and fidelity which she had, despite that new
love, preserved in vain for Maharbal. And she vaguely wished that some
such terrible crisis as this now staring her in the face had arisen to
make her yield to the prayers and supplications of a Scipio whom she
loved and honoured, rather than to the brutal threats and menaces of a
Philip whom she loathed and despised. But the die was now cast; so
calling Cleandra to her, she told her all.
CHAPTER III.
A SACRIFICE.
As in the morning the sight of the crimson and gold hangings of the
tent gradually impressed upon Elissa the sense of her surroundings, a
weight like lead fell upon her heart; but with a prayer to the gods
that they might inspire her with strength to carry out her great and
terrible resolve, she rose. A small gong was at hand, she beat upon it
for Cleandra; but instead of Cleandra, there entered a stranger.
“Who art thou?” inquired Elissa haughtily, “and where is Cleandra?”
“My name is Chloe, oh lady Elissa, and I have been deputed to thy
service by the king. Thine attendant Cleandra was removed hence last
night; she hath, by the king’s orders, taken up mine own duties as
chief lady in attendance upon Queen Polycratia. His Majesty hath
charged me with his royal greetings unto thee, and bids me inform thee
that at such time as thou shalt be prepared to receive him he will
present himself before thy noble presence to inquire for thy welfare.”
Elissa’s pride and anger rose upon hearing that Cleandra had been
taken from her. She was about to give some furious reply when her eye
fell upon the torn pieces of paper still lying where the king had
spurned them with his foot the previous night, and she refrained. “I
am,” she murmured to herself, “but as a fly in the web of some
poisonous spider, and have, alas! no power to withdraw myself from the
trammels of its horrid folds. But though alone and entangled, yet will
I be strong.”
“Leave me to mine ablutions,” she commanded, “and inform thy master
that I will see him in an hour’s space.”
At the appointed hour the sound of martial music heralded the king’s
approach, while the clanging of arms without denoted the guards
saluting. As he entered the tent, the flood of sunlight streamed in
with him and lighted upon his figure. The bright beams of morning,
shining on his brilliant arms, made him, as he stood there in all the
vigour and beauty of youthful manhood, seem as ’twere the sun-god
Apollo himself who had alighted upon earth. But Elissa groaned
inwardly, to think that one so noble in his bearing could yet be so
utterly ignoble in his life.
She remained standing to receive him, looking at him coldly, and
making no sign of any salutation.
“Fair lady Elissa,” said the king, “I well see that thou art
displeased with me, and I own with contrition that I greatly deserve
thy displeasure. For last night the fumes of the rich red wine,
combined with thine own excessive charms, did make me forget for a mad
moment that I was King Philip thy host, and thou the lady Elissa my
guest. Wilt thou not pardon me? for deeply do I grieve if I have
offended.”
“King Philip,” replied Elissa proudly, “in sooth thy welcome of me
hath not been such as I should have expected from a noble monarch with
a glorious name. How canst thou expect forgiveness so soon from a
woman whom thou hast so deeply insulted--one, moreover, whose person
should be sacred. For she cometh to thee as ambassador from the mighty
Hannibal, before whom the power of Rome herself hath for years past
trembled. Therefore, before I say I will forgive thee, tell me what
wilt thou do to make amends for mine outraged modesty and dignity. It
is a matter for consideration.”
Calmly and fearlessly did Elissa stand before him, never flinching,
but gazing steadily into his eyes, which fell before her own.
Philip hesitated a minute, toying nervously with the hilt of his
sword, ere he replied.
“Full amends will I make, fair lady Elissa, if thou wilt but grant me
thy pardon and my request.”
“What is that request? and what are thy amends, oh Philip?”
“My request is this, that thou wilt join thy life unto mine to be my
companion for good or ill, through fair weather or through foul. My
promised amends are these: if thou wilt but assent to become for me
thus the one woman in the world whose sweet companionship shall make
earth heaven, I will bind myself in turn, by solemn treaties before
the gods, to help Hannibal, thy father, with all my forces by land and
by sea. I will bind myself to attack the Romans wherever I can find
them, to fall upon and destroy their cities and their colonies, and,
moreover, to send a large body of troops to reinforce Hannibal
himself. And thou, sweet lady Elissa, shall draft the terms of the
treaty, which shall, so soon as we are united, be sent by ambassadors
to Hannibal himself to ratify.”
Elissa concealed her rising anger, and answered calmly:
“Good, my lord king; but how can I accept this dishonour, for such it
is, and become thy life companion when thou hast a bride already? What
wilt thou do with the Queen Polycratia, the noble lady who but
yesterday received me so courteously? For know this, oh Philip! that
however she may fall, the daughter of Hannibal will, nevertheless,
take no second place. Nay, should she listen to thine unscrupulous
proposal, she will yet hold the place of queen, and queen alone. There
cannot be two queens; and whate’er may be her ties, any other woman
must give way before Elissa.”
“Polycratia, ’tis true, must be got rid of,” replied the young king
brutally; “but that is easy. Although I made her queen, she is not
really my wife, but the wife of one Aratus, from whom I took her. Thus
’tis simple enough. I will send her back to her husband Aratus, and by
so doing shall I greatly please this unruly nation of the Achæans.
Thus, fair lady Elissa, thou wilt alone reign queen of my heart, and
there will be no other to dispute thy sway in Macedon.”
“And thinkest thou, oh Philip, that Polycratia will be happy thus?
But, after all, what is she to me? A woman myself, I cannot seek to
rule the fate of other women; yet would I strive to rule the fate of
Carthage and to injure Rome, otherwise I had not listened for a moment
to thine unworthy proposals. Therefore, King Philip, hearken! If thou
wilt send away thy queen, and if thou wilt make a treaty as I shall
dictate, then, when I have actually seen, with mine own eyes, the
departure of the ambassadors to Hannibal, will I, as my share of the
bargain, yield unto thee myself, and become the minister of thy will.
But ere these things be accomplished, seek not again to intrude upon
my privacy; and, above all things, beware of again taking advantage of
my defenceless position to insult me. For seest thou this dagger which
I have concealed about me? Had I thought on it last night when thou
wast brutally ill-treating me, thou hadst assuredly been slain. But by
Melcareth, ruler of the universe! if thou dost, before the despatch of
this treaty of alliance--to obtain which I must sacrifice mine
honour--but so much as lay a hand on me, I will assuredly slay myself
with this weapon. For although I may consent, solely seeking the
welfare of my country, to give myself to thee, think not that I do
love thee, Philip. Nay, far from it! I do scorn and despise thee, king
as thou art!”
Elissa’s nostrils quivered with nervous emotion and angry scorn as,
with the dagger uplifted in her hand, and her head thrown back, she
gazed upon the king with determined glance and flashing eyes.
Philip was cowed by her demeanour, but he would have liked to have
seized her in his arms once more even then had he dared.
“Oh, never mind the love,” he said, smiling; “that will come later.
Other women have said that before thee--ay, even this very Polycratia
herself did speak just so. But thine assent is the important thing,
and that is now settled; it is therefore a bargain between us. Now
what may I do to please thee?”
Elissa turned from the king in utter disgust as she thought of her
long and steadfast faith to Maharbal, of her pure but fruitless love
for Scipio, both now to be sullied and polluted by the surrender of
her person to this satyr of a king. And inwardly a great cry rose up
in her heart. “Oh, Hannibal, my father, thy precepts have cost me
dear!”
“This thou canst do to please me, King Philip,” she exclaimed
freezingly. “Remove thyself from my sight until such time as I have to
endure thy presence whether I will or no.”
Turning her back upon Philip she left the apartment. But the king
laughed aloud, utterly careless of her feelings.
A few days later the treaty was completed on terms most favourable to
Hannibal and Carthage. And when Elissa had actually seen an embassy,
headed by one Xenophanes, sail with five ships for Italy, she
completed her great, her terrible act of self-sacrifice in her
country’s cause.
When once the die had been cast, Philip seemed anxious to prove to
Elissa that he had been in earnest in concluding for her sake the
treaty with Hannibal. He took, within a week or two of the departure
of the ambassadors, an irrevocable step, and one which was calculated
to embroil him absolutely with Rome. For, having heard that a Roman
army, accompanied by King Attalus of Rhodes, and also the Ætolians,
had landed on the Peloponnesus to wage war upon the Achæans, with
whom he was then allied, Philip took advantage of the occasion, and,
without waiting to make any declaration of war, marched out against
the Romans in gallant array with all his army.
Falling upon them unexpectedly, he cut all their forces to pieces, and
indeed almost annihilated them to a man.
Returning to Elissa, laden with Roman spoils, he laid them at her
feet.
Upon seeing this immediate proof of his devotion, Elissa could not
help recognising the fact that her self-sacrifice had not been
entirely in vain, and she thanked the gods that they had given her the
courage to carry it out to the bitter end.
Alas for Elissa! although for long she lived in hope, this first
success was also the last. For a series of adverse circumstances
coming one upon another utterly frustrated the projects of Philip to
assist Hannibal and to combine with the Carthaginians in a war which,
had things gone differently, would, in all probability, have had the
result of wiping out the Roman nation and of making Carthage supreme
on the Mediterranean coasts. The first piece of bad luck was the
falling of Xenophanes and all his embassy into the hands, in the
province of Campania, of a certain praetor named Valerius; but that
first disadvantage was got over by the lying propensities of
Xenophanes. For he, of all the Greeks, was one of the greatest adepts
in the ancient art of using the power of speech as a means to conceal
his thoughts.
Thus, when arrested by Valerius, he readily admitted that he and his
suite were come as ambassadors to Italy, but represented that it was
to the Consul Marcus Marcellus, the conquerer of Syracuse, who was now
in Italy, that he was accredited. Thus, being believed, he was readily
given all the necessary information as to how he should proceed so as
to avoid the Hannibalian forces, and allowed to continue on his
journey unmolested. Owing to the information he had received, the wily
Greek was enabled easily to avoid any other Roman army, and actually
contrived to find Hannibal himself in the province of Apulia. To the
great conqueror he safely communicated the treaty and all the letters
that he carried from Philip and from Elissa, which he had contrived to
conceal about his clothing. Hannibal, while naturally astonished and
greatly annoyed at learning that his daughter was now at the court of
such a dissolute monarch as Philip, was delighted with the treaty
which she had been the means of bringing about, and which, so
favourable were the terms to Carthage, he lost no time in ratifying.
Upon his sending back the Macedonian ambassadors, however, accompanied
by some Carthaginian envoys to Philip, the whole of the embassy, after
arriving safely on board their ships, were detained at sea by a Roman
fleet, and once again Xenophanes was taken before Valerius. He, from
the Carthaginian envoys, discovered the whole plot, although by his
aptitude for lying, Xenophanes had a second time almost escaped.
They all were now taken as prisoners to Rome, where they suffered
great tortures and hardships.
Thus, from want of a concerted plan of action, Philip was utterly
unable to render to Hannibal the necessary assistance at the required
time. Nevertheless, hearing of the capture of his ambassadors, Philip
sent fresh envoys to Hannibal, and the treaty being ratified, he set
to sea with a few ships to try to organise a large fleet of his own
vessels, added to some from his Grecian allies and others lying in
various ports, with which to harass the whole Italian coast.
Unfortunately, owing to the sudden unwarranted fears of his captains,
which panic, it is said, even gained upon the king himself, this
enterprise proved utterly fruitless. For upon the false alarm that a
large Roman fleet was advancing, whereas there were at the utmost only
some ten Roman frigates which were lying, themselves fearful of his
approach, in a Sicilian harbour, Philip fled precipitately with his
ships, and returned to Macedon without striking a blow by sea. For, in
sooth, he was no sailor, although a right gallant warrior on land. And
the Romans, being reinforced, captured all the ships he would have
mustered, and remained completely masters of the sea.
Elissa was not long in learning the facts of this expedition, which
Philip had vainly sought to colour to his own advantage, and being
furious with herself for having given way to him without having gained
any commensurate advantages for her country, and furious also with
Philip, she taunted him bitterly, telling him that the only wars in
which he was successful were those that he waged upon women.
After this, although Philip remained captivated with Elissa’s regal
beauty, life became almost intolerable between them. Hannibal’s
daughter continually stirred the king up with her invectives and
reproaches to fresh enterprises; but for want of a sufficient fleet he
was unable, after his first naval reverse, to invade Italy, and go to
Hannibal’s assistance. He therefore contented himself with warlike
expeditions by land in all parts of Greece, and even Asia Minor,
against all such as were the allies of Rome. But between the Romans
and himself there were no serious conflicts, and, in fact, only a
state of semi-warfare existed, the Romans being too much employed
elsewhere to pay any serious attention to the Macedonian so long as he
left their own actual coasts alone. They, therefore, contented
themselves by constantly sending embassies requesting him to desist,
under threat of serious punishment, at which embassies Philip merely
snapped his fingers. Thus, despite the prayers of Elissa to either
build ships or else march by land to Italy, as her father had done
from Spain before him, the war upon which Philip had launched, in his
ardour to win over Hannibal’s daughter, proved of no use to Hannibal
himself whatever. Nevertheless it continued for years, and the name of
Philip was so dreaded on land that so long as the Macedonian was
unable to effect any junction with Hannibal, the Romans were quite
contented to leave him alone, other than, as already mentioned, by
sending threatening embassies.
But Elissa’s discontent grew continually more and more, for she ever
regretted bitterly having given over her fate into this man’s hands.
In one of these wars, fearing to leave Elissa behind in case she might
perchance either leave his court in his absence or be captured by some
rival monarch, Philip took her with him, and Cleandra with her. It was
an expedition upon which he had embarked against the city of Abydos,
upon the Hellespont. The city was obstinately defended, and while King
Attalus and all the Rhodians sailed through the Ægean Sea to the
assistance of Tenedos, the Romans sent the youngest of their
ambassadors, one Marcus Æmilius, to Abydos itself to warn Philip to
desist.
Now this Marcus Æmilius had been, as quite a lad, present with Scipio
at the court of Syphax at the time of Elissa’s presence there, and she
knew him well. But when she saw him appear before Philip she made no
sign of ever having seen the man before, for he was now celebrated as
the handsomest man of his time; and having already quite enough to
suffer from the tyranny of Philip, she determined to give the
Macedonian king no opportunity of making her life more unbearable than
usual by becoming jealous also.
Æmilius having, however, been received honourably and appointed
certain tents in the king’s encampments before Abydos, Cleandra easily
obtained access to him before he had had more than the most formal
interview with Philip, one merely, indeed, to present his credentials,
upon which occasion Elissa had seen him, and longed to speak to him
for the sake of old times.
Cleandra soon told Æmilius that her royal Mistress Elissa sent him
warm and friendly greetings, and inquired kindly for himself and for
Scipio, his former chief.
Marcus in return sent greetings to Elissa, and informed her that not
only had he recent tidings of Scipio, but had also a letter from him
to deliver to herself; further, that he awaited the result of his
embassy to the king to see whether he should deliver the letter in
person or send it to her by the hand of Cleandra, for he would like if
possible to make its delivery an opportunity of approaching her
mistress. But Cleandra he retained a long time with him, for she was
still young and beautiful, and had, moreover, travelled greatly. The
young Roman was not enjoying life at all in his present capacity,
among a people with whom he could only talk by means of an
interpreter, and was delighted to meet a handsome young woman with
whom he could converse freely in the Latin tongue. Eventually Cleandra
left him, promising to see him again after he had had audience of the
king.
CHAPTER IV.
A LETTER FROM SCIPIO.
The king received Æmilius in audience on the following morning in
the presence of Elissa and all his courtiers, and from the beginning
it was evident that the interview would be a stormy one. For the young
ambassador commenced by informing Philip that the Senate ordered him
not to wage war with any Greek state, nor to interfere in the
dominions of Ptolemy, and to submit the injuries that he had inflicted
upon Attalus and the Rhodians to arbitration, saying that if he obeyed
these orders they would grant him peace, otherwise he must take the
consequences of the enmity of Rome. Upon Philip endeavouring to show
that the fault was all on the other side, and that the Rhodians had
been the first to lay hands on him, Marcus interrupted the king
insolently:
“But what,” he said, “of the Athenians? And what of the people of
Abydos at this minute? Did any one of them also lay hands on thee
first?”
Philip, at a loss for a reply, said:
“I pardon the offensive haughtiness of thy manners for three reasons;
first, because thou art a young man and inexperienced in affairs;
secondly, because thou art the handsomest man of thy time; and
thirdly, because thou art a Roman. But if the Romans choose to behave
badly to me I shall defend myself as courageously as I can, calling
upon the gods to defend my cause.”
With these words the audience was broken up. It was now evident from
the temper of the king that in all probability no opportunity would
occur for Marcus to meet Elissa in friendly converse. But under
pretence of seeking a further audience later on, Æmilius remained
until the fall of Abydos, which took place after some most desperate
hand-to-hand fighting. Meanwhile, Cleandra visited him again on
various occasions, and eventually obtained from him Scipio’s letter,
which she herself delivered to Elissa, although Marcus had been most
anxious to see Elissa and deliver it in person.
So Abydos fell! and its fall was accompanied by the most terrible
scenes that it is possible to imagine. But the horrors that took place
were not owing to the cruelty of Philip, but rather to the insensate
folly of the inhabitants of Abydos themselves, who had determined to
slay all their wives and children rather than that they should fall
into the hands of the enemy. They had intended also to destroy at one
blow the whole of their gold and silver and valuable property, but
Philip found it all ready to his hand, having been collected in two
ships, which they had not had time to put out to sea and sink as
intended. Thus he captured it all, an immense booty.
When Philip entered the town the people of the city commenced to slay
themselves and each other. When he saw the numbers and fury of those
who were stabbing, burning, hanging, throwing themselves and others
into wells, or precipitating themselves from house-tops with their
children and their wives, Philip was overpowered with surprise and
horror, as was Elissa. She, indeed, with tears in her eyes, conjured
him, by all the gods, to put a stop to these terrible proceedings if
it were possible, for the city was filled with the shrieks of the
dying women and children. Thereupon Philip published a proclamation
announcing “that he gave three days’ grace to all those who wished to
hang or stab themselves.” Thus, if they so willed, they had plenty of
time to leave the city with their women, and neither become prisoners
of war themselves nor run the risks of their wives and daughters being
taken into slavery by the conqueror. But with the exception of a
quantity of the more beautiful girls, whom Philip had saved upon first
entering the city, the inhabitants of Abydos continued to slaughter
themselves wholesale by families. For they considered themselves as
traitors to those who had already died for their country should they
survive them.
Philip, seeing that they took no notice of his proclamation, allowed
them to go their own way to destruction. He himself celebrated the
conquest of the town in his usual manner, by indulging openly with his
courtiers in scenes of unbridled drunkenness and debauchery.
These he now indulged in the more openly, in order that he might annoy
the unhappy Elissa and humiliate her before others, in which design he
certainly succeeded.
For seeing herself made of so little account before the eyes of all,
Elissa, disgusted and disgraced, determined to put an end to her
miserable existence once and for all.
But Cleandra, as upon a previous occasion, urged her yet to live for
her country’s cause. And this was upon the very night on which
Cleandra obtained from Æmilius Scipio’s letter, which came as balm to
soothe her. It was written in Greek, and was as follows:--
“From Publius Cornelius, son of Publius Cornelius Scipio, to Elissa,
daughter of Hannibal.
“In the name of the great god Jupiter, lord of the universe, greeting!
The years have passed away one by one with rapidity, and great and
sudden have been the changes upon the face of the world. But one thing
hath neither passed away with time nor altered with change. As Scipio
did love thee when thou didst even weep upon his shoulder upon bidding
him farewell in New Carthage, so doth he now love thee upon sending
thee these lines of greeting from Rome. And greatly doth he long to
have tidings of thee by thine own hand, and still more to again behold
thy beautiful and beloved features.
“Elissa, I, Scipio, have been fighting all these years in Iberia, and
have driven out thine uncle Hasdrubal in the north, who marched across
the Alps into Italy, and fell bravely fighting at the battle of the
Metaurus. I have likewise driven out thine uncle Mago in the south,
who, after retiring for a space to the Balearic Islands, hath now
seized upon the city and province of Genoa in Northern Italy.
Hasdrubal, the son of Gisco, have I also met in various bloody
encounters, in which the gods were ever propitious to me and to the
arms of Rome. Thus all Iberia hath fallen into my hands, and I am now
recalled to Rome. For owing to the continued presence of thy father
and his armies, after so many years, even yet continuing the struggle
with occasional successes in the south of Italy, and on account of the
great insult that he put upon the city of Rome herself, in riding up
to her walls and throwing his javeline over the very city gates, the
Romans are now determined to take by my hand means to avenge these
insults by carrying the war beyond our coasts upon African soil. And
since there is no secret made of this determination, I do write unto
thee upon the subject for thine own welfare. For, my beloved, even as
I have loved thee, and offered up my prayers and sacrifices unto the
gods for thy sake during all these my vicissitudes by war, so do I
still consider thee and love thee with a single-minded devotion that
nought save death may change.
“Therefore, no thought of any possible military glory which may accrue
unto myself can weigh in the balance where thy happiness and welfare
are concerned, especially since I see that through thee any further
bloodshed may now be avoided. For thy country of Carthage may be even
yet saved from invasion if thou wilt but hearken unto my words and
come to me now, when I will espouse thee, and peace will be made
between Rome and Hannibal. For both sides are utterly weary of this
endless war, and thy father Hannibal, after having lost Capua, which
was retaken by our arms despite his repeated attempts to relieve it,
after having lost Tarentum, which is also retaken by Rome, after
having lost nearly all his Numidian cavalry at the town of Salapia,
including, it is said, thine old lover Maharbal, is now reduced to the
position of a wolf guarding the mountain passes of Bruttium and the
few Greek cities on the Bruttian promontory beyond. ’Tis true that,
like the bold wolf that he is, he doth occasionally sally forth from
his corner of Italy, and ever with certain success; and hath even
recently, in one of these expeditions, slain the mighty Marcus
Marcellus himself, the sword of Rome, the conqueror of Syracuse, for
whose memory thou canst bear no great love. For I did hear how, after
thine escape with Cleandra, by the treachery of the flag-captain, from
Caius Lælius’s ship--which escape did greatly chagrin both Caius, on
account of Cleandra, and myself--fearing for thy life in
Syracuse--thou didst bravely fight against Marcellus throughout the
whole siege, ay, even until the fall of the city. And since then,
although having learned with greatest joy of thine escape from death
in the final massacre of Syracuse, I have become aware, with deep
regret, of thy residence at the court of Philip of Macedon. From him
I would have thee at once fly in the ship with Marcus Æmilius, the
bearer of this letter, whom thou didst meet with me in Numidia. For it
is not possible but that the doings of the daughter of Hannibal must
be known everywhere, especially when that daughter is Elissa, whose
beauty and feats are so celebrated. Hence I, in common with all the
Romans, have perfectly understood that it is thou thyself Elissa who
hast been the cause of the war between Philip of Macedon and Rome. For
knowing thy devotion to thy country, it is not difficult for me to
clearly understand with what object thou hast consented to live with
the base Macedonian wretch, whom, so I have recently heard by spies,
maketh thee by no means happy. But for one reason do I ardently desire
the continuation of that war of thy making with Philip, and that is
that the gods may spare me to drive my sword up to the hilt in the
throat of the scoundrel king. For hath not he, by nought save guile
and wickedness, gained possession of that one dear flower of womanhood
which I would have plucked and worn myself; and hath not he again,
after having himself ravished the flower from its stem, now left its
petals in all their sweetness to wither and perish with neglect?
Therefore, accursed be he--ay, doubly accursed--by all the gods!
“Now Elissa, my beloved, after deep communing with the mighty Olympian
gods, who have even appeared unto me in dreams, they have clearly
pointed out to me both my duty to my country and to the woman whom I
love, and also the duty to her country, to herself, and even to me,
Scipio, of that woman, she being Elissa, the daughter of the great
Hannibal, son of Hamilcar Barca. Thus the gods themselves, by whom, as
thou knewest in times past, I am beloved, and who appear unto me
still, even as did Neptune, god of the sea, before the fall of the New
Town, have clearly directed thy course for thee for the sake of thine
own country’s welfare. Since, moreover, there is now no longer the
shadow of the Numidian Maharbal between us, do I beseech thee to fly
from the court of this dissolute Philip, and come to Rome with Marcus
Æmilius; and then I pledge thee my troth that, saying never a word of
reproach concerning the said Philip, I will make thee my loved and
honoured wife. And there shall thus, by thee, be peace again between
Carthage and Rome, after so many years of warfare and of misery. Now,
farewell, Elissa. I prithee salute the lady Cleandra if she be still
with thee; Caius Lælius likewise sendeth her salutations. As for
thyself, I commend thee to the blessing of the gods.
“(Sealed) Scipio.”
CHAPTER V.
A SCENE OF HORROR.
It was night, a calm summer night, when Elissa, after reading
Scipio’s letter, remained alone within a gorgeous pavilion in a camp
established upon the shores of the Hellespont, the letter lying
listlessly upon her lap. With head thrown back upon the cushions of
her divan, the light of a single cresset lamp, formed of gold in a
chaste design, but barely illumined her features, for she was
withdrawn, while thus leaning back, from the radius of its not too
powerful glow. The doors of the tent being open, Elissa could see the
radiant moonbeams without dancing upon the waters of the Hellespont,
and lighting up at the same time the tideless sea and the mountains
upon the further shore.
The Carthaginian maiden rose, and stepping without the tent gazed
wistfully across the straits. How peaceful would have been the scene
had Mother Nature alone been the all-pervading genius of the
surroundings.
But, alas! there were other and more horrid sights and sounds, making
the night, otherwise so beautiful, most terrible in all its aspects.
On every side could be seen flaming houses; in all directions could be
seen the flying forms of screaming women and children, as their
fathers, husbands, or lovers, carrying out the fearful compact made
among themselves, ruthlessly pursued those nearest and dearest to them
to put them to a cruel death.
At hand here and there could be seen, even close to the tents of the
royal encampment, shapeless, huddled-up forms lying on the ground.
Some of these, lighted up by the rays of the brilliant moon, or
glittering in the flickering light of the fires, betokened that they
were the bodies of dead warriors; others, from their white,
disordered, and oft-times blood-stained raiment, were clearly the
corpses of some of the unhappy female victims. Some, indeed, of the
prostrate women, as appeared by their writhings and spasmodic
struggles, were not even yet dead, but no one took the trouble to put
them out of their misery, for the groups of Macedonian guards who were
here and there lying about the open space, were evidently all under
the influence of numerous libations, and were in a drunken sleep,
utterly careless of their surroundings. Meanwhile, while the fires
around ever crackled and roared, and the heavy smoke drifted away
landward before a faint sea breeze, louder and more discordant sounds
disturbed the midnight air.
From an adjacent and brilliantly lighted pavilion there arose, all
combined, noisy shouts, uproarious laughter, and the screams of women.
Walking unmolested across the open space which separated her pavilion
from that of the king, and carefully avoiding stepping upon any of the
corpses as she went, Elissa looked within. The sight that she saw
filled her with loathing and disgust. For Philip and his courtiers,
lolling round a huge table, covered with gold and silver wine-cups,
were making merry of the misery of many beautiful young women, their
recent captives, whose tear-stained faces and disordered dress told
only too plainly the brutality to which they were exposed.
The king himself was a ring-leader at the horrid game which they were
playing with the struggling young women. Holding forcibly a damsel
upon each knee, he was, with hilarious laughter, delighting at their
unavailing struggles, while some of his sycophants poured by force
between their unwilling lips, cup after cup of the rich red wine. Thus
were they making drunk, in spite of themselves, the miserable maidens,
many of whom had probably never even tasted wine before. Some of the
young girls had already thus been reduced to a state of intoxication,
and were reeling about the spacious apartment, or lying helplessly,
grotesquely weeping, on the floor. The onlooking Macedonian nobles
meanwhile shouted with laughter. It was a terrible sight! Not only did
it fill her with terror at what might perchance befall herself, but
the horror and anger that filled Elissa’s mind drove her to an awful
resolve. Seizing a firebrand from a deserted watch-fire, she advanced
once more stealthily towards the windward side of the huge tent,
intending to burn alive this satyr of a king and all his horrid crew.
But, just in time, she remembered that she would have to burn as well
all the wretched young women.
Therefore, although she rightly considered that a speedy death would
be far better for them than a life under such conditions, she could
not find it in her heart to let the poor helpless victims die so
painfully. With a groan she threw the firebrand back into the fire,
and, invoking all the curses of the gods upon the head of Philip, she
retired once more to her tent. Here, trying to shut her ears to the
roaring of the fires, the screaming of the dying women and children,
the brutal shoutings of the drunken nobles, and the miserable
lamentations of the insulted maidens, she once more read through
Scipio’s letter.
She made up her mind at once that Scipio was right, that her duty to
her country was, whatever it might have been in the past, now
undoubtedly to proceed to Rome, and, by espousing Scipio, whose
devotion touched her heart deeply, to conclude a peace, if possible,
between Rome and Carthage. Two reasons strongly impelled her. One was
that the death of her once so deeply-beloved Maharbal had now removed
a great barrier; the other, that she believed firmly, with many
others, that Scipio was indeed, as he pretended, a man specially
favoured by the gods, and that they held personal communings with him,
and to her mind these divine inspirations accounted for all his
successes. Of one thing, at all events, Elissa was certain, that she
wished for no more war. For, if her efforts to embroil Philip in the
struggle between Carthage and Rome had only resulted in such terrible
scenes as she had been witnessing during the last few days, she felt
convinced that such war must be distasteful to the gods themselves.
Therefore she determined to use all her endeavours now to bring about
a lasting peace, for that was, since the gods themselves had declared
it, clearly at this juncture her duty to her country, and to the world
at large.
Elissa summoned Cleandra, who was even more terrified than herself at
the awful scenes around, and with reason, for upon returning from the
tent of Marcus Æmilius only an hour previously, she had had a very
narrow escape of her life from some of the citizens of Abydos. They
had been upon the point of slaying her by mistake for one of their own
women, when fortunately some Macedonians of the royal guard, to whom
she was known, had come to her assistance, and had slain her
aggressors. But now the guards were all drunk, and the two women knew
that if they were to escape they must reach alone the camp of the
Roman embassy, which, being on the shore close to the Roman ships, was
carefully entrenched and properly guarded by the ambassador’s own
escort.
Cleandra, who had, when in the tent of Æmilius, had her wits about
her as usual, had not been wasting her time. She knew all about the
drift of the contents of Scipio’s letter, and had even heard of the
death of Maharbal before Elissa gave her the tidings, but she had
preferred to keep her own counsel until her mistress and friend should
learn them for herself from the letter.
Not waiting for Elissa to make up her mind to fly, Cleandra had laid
her schemes, anticipating Elissa’s consent. She had accordingly
arranged with Marcus Æmilius to have all his men ready on board ship,
and everything prepared for instant sailing, promising him to return
with Hannibal’s daughter, if possible, before dawn.
In the event of her not being able to prevail upon Elissa to fly,
Cleandra had begged the gallant young Roman to leave Abydos without
her, for she was resolved herself to share Elissa’s fortunes for weal
or woe in the future as in the past. Nor could the prayers of Marcus,
who was most loath to leave her, that she should herself fly with him,
move Cleandra in the least; for, although ever fickle with men, she
was faithful beyond the fidelity of women where Hannibal’s daughter
was concerned.
Scarcely staying to console Elissa upon the death of Maharbal, which
she evidently felt deeply, Cleandra set about collecting all their
jewellery and money, and concealing it about her person. As for
Elissa, she donned instantly her war-gear, and armed herself with a
sheath, darts, and a sword, for in this garb she had no fear of not
being able to pass in safety through any such parties of the
Macedonian guards as might not be too intoxicated to recognise her.
Bidding Cleandra cover herself with a dark cloak and to follow her,
she, after extinguishing the light, stepped forth from her tent, the
entrance to which she closed. Then passing in rear of the king’s
pavilion, where the noise was not now quite so excessive, they took
their way to the Roman entrenchments.
They had passed the royal tent in safety, and, while threading their
way with caution, were nearly out of ear-shot of the royal encampment,
when suddenly they came, standing outside their own tents, upon two of
the most debauched nobles of a debauched court, Alexander, son of
Phidias, and Xenacreon, son of Themistocles. Xenacreon had for long
ardently pursued Cleandra, and, despite her cloak, he recognised her
in a moment. Bounding forward he seized her, exclaiming:
“Aha, my lady Cleandra! whither away thus in disguise like a thief in
the night? For sure thou seekest a lover; well, here am I all ready to
thy hand, take me!” and he embraced her rudely.
Cleandra did not seek to struggle at first, but only to temporise. She
answered civilly, for she did not wish the sound of the discussion to
reach the king in his tent.
“I pray thee release me, my good Xenacreon, and I will meet thee some
other time. Just now I may not stay; I am engaged on important
business with the lady Elissa.”
“With Elissa, the king’s courtesan, now out of favour!” exclaimed
Xenacreon loudly. “Well, what is good for one is good for another. I
will not, so that I get thee, grudge her to Alexander here, who long
hath admired her; so take her, Alexander, I give her unto thee! But
come thou with me now, sweet Cleandra, no time is like the present.”
And while he sought to drag her within his tent, Alexander sprang
forward swiftly and attempted likewise to seize upon Elissa herself.
But she was far too quick for him, and leapt nimbly on one side,
discharging, as she did so, a dart which transfixed him through and
through. He fell groaning to the ground, writhing in agony.
“Now for thy turn, Xenacreon!” cried Elissa. “Take thou this for thy
dastardly insult to ‘the king’s courtesan, now out of favour.’”
And she plunged her sword deep into his body below the upraised arms
with which he held Cleandra. Snatching Cleandra from his grasp before
there was time even for her to be stained with his blood, Elissa
started running, dragging Cleandra after her, for she perceived that
the king himself had rushed out of his tent, followed by such of his
officers as could stand.
But, although raising hoarse, drunken cries, they ran in the direction
of the women, they could not see them, or, indeed, their own way, for
on coming out into the darkness from the brilliant light they were
blinded, and caught their feet in the numerous tent ropes, and fell
sprawling in all directions. Some of them even got so far as the
prostrate bodies of Alexander and Xenacreon, over whose still
breathing forms they fell heavily, while cursing loudly. But Cleandra
and Elissa easily escaped, and soon reached the Roman entrenchments in
safety, where Marcus Æmilius was waiting in person to receive them.
Welcoming them heartily, he quickly took them off to his ship. Then
withdrawing his guard, but leaving his camp standing so as to deceive
the Macedonians in the early morning, he set sail at once with his
three vessels, and soon they felt the cool breezes of the Ægean Sea
blowing in their faces. Long before dawn they were well out of sight
of land, and steering a course for Tarentum on the Iapygian
promontory.
END OF PART V.
PART VI.
CHAPTER I.
A SPELL OF PEACE.
For the first time for years Elissa was able to enjoy a space of
peace of mind and body. Lying back upon her cushions, beneath the
awnings on the deck of the stately ambassadorial quinquereme, she was
at length at rest. Lulled rather than disturbed by the swishing sound
of the five banks of oars moving in absolute unison, she gazed out
languidly at the successive red-cliffed and grass-clad islands of
Greece and felt happy. For now all suspense was over, she had resolved
upon her future course; and, as Polybius has said, there is naught so
terrible as suspense. Let the circumstances of life be good or bad,
while they are hanging in the balance there is ever anxiety,
agitation, impatience, to distress the mind. But once they be decided
one way or another the soul is relieved; if decided for evil, then the
worst is known already, if for good, the heart will cease from
painfully throbbing in anxious agitation, and be at rest.
Thus, then, was it with Elissa, as, for want of wind, propelled merely
by the oars, the ship glided steadily onward over the sunny summer
seas. Now she had no longer any anxiety as to the port for which her
life’s bark was steering. She had made up her mind at length to marry
Scipio, and was clearly satisfied that her ship of life was having its
course shaped by the great gods who ruled her destiny, and that
therefore that course must be right, and her own determination a
righteous one.
So, even while thinking of Maharbal with a softened regret--for he was
scarcely more to her than a dream of years long gone by--she allowed
herself the almost unknown luxury of being happy. And the happiness
came, not from any sense of satisfaction at a realised ambition, nor
from the feeling of joy that is experienced in the attainment of a
long-desired love, but simply from the relief obtained after long
battlings in stormy waters. Now the guest and not the prisoner of
Rome, she day after day enjoyed her calm repose, and, while fervently
thanking the gods for her relief from the degrading atmosphere of
Philip’s court, did not weary her mind with anxious forebodings or
misgivings for the future. She thought, it is true, of Scipio, and
thought of him frequently, but it was more in admiration of his
nobility of soul than with the ardent passion of a lover.
That passion, indeed, he had inspired years ago, but it had been in
spite of herself, and she had known how to do her duty to her absent
lover in repressing it. Now she felt that she loved him indeed, and
deeply, but the affection which she felt in her inmost womanhood was,
she was aware, more like that very love of a sister which she had
formerly professed for him, than that more thrilling love of mutual
passion which she knew they had both experienced in bygone days.
The moderated nature of her sensations, however, did not trouble her;
on the contrary, their very moderation was a part of the relief of
mind which she now experienced. She loved Scipio in a pure way, and
she longed to see him and to tell him her deep and great admiration
for the grandeur of his soul; the other feeling might come back again
later, on meeting again. If so, she would welcome its return gladly,
for she felt that Scipio deserved something more at her hands than
mere sisterly love; but in the meantime it suited her wearied brain to
think about him, as of all other things, tranquilly. For her past had
in very sooth been stormy enough under all its aspects, from its very
commencement as a child with her father in scenes of war; as a maiden,
in her mad and unreasoning passion for Maharbal and the grief of
separation from him; then later during the bloody and terrible sieges
of New Carthage and Syracuse; and last, but by no means least, the
terrible humiliation endured in the court of the Macedonian king.
Elissa was now no longer a girl, and, as she closed her eyes and
thought dreamily of all her past, she realised that for nothing on
earth would she live over again the terrible years that had rolled
over her head since she had changed from an inexperienced maiden to an
experienced woman, whose life was far too highly filled with incident
for anything approaching to real happiness to find a home within her
breast. But she was happy now at length for a season, after all her
warrings and wanderings, and, realising this fact, she wished that the
peaceful voyage might never come to an end.
Cleandra, in the meantime, was adapting herself to circumstances as
usual, and was happy too. For, forgetting her first husband, Imlico
the Carthaginian noble, whom she had taken as a mere means to an
end--to escape from slavery to wit; forgetting also her second
husband, the Roman flag-captain Ascanius, whom she had taken for a
similar reason, she had now for the first time in her life fallen
deeply and ardently in love. And this time her love was, she well
knew, as ardently and truly returned by Marcus Æmilius, the youngest
of the Roman ambassadors, whom King Philip had rightly designated as
the handsomest man of his time.
Thus Cleandra looked forward to the time when Elissa should be united
to Scipio with pleasant anticipations of herself, upon the same
occasion, becoming once more a bride, and this time a bride entirely
from choice, not from necessity. Meanwhile, as there was a band of
musicians on board the young ambassador’s ship, consisting of
minstrels and dancing girls, the evenings passed merrily with song and
dance. Thus the time sped gaily enough.
The ships, after passing through the Grecian islands, hit off the
southernmost coast of the Peloponnesus but did not touch anywhere. But
once the western side of the lowermost parts of Greece had been
gained, a strong western breeze set in, on account of which the land
was not only closely hugged, but frequent stoppages were made at
various ports or inlets. For the inhabitants of the western coast
were, if not exactly friendly to Rome, afraid of Rome, and, above all,
the name of Philip was abhorred in those parts. Therefore, frequent
landings were made in convenient creeks and inlets, and, to pass the
time, when the wind was too strong without, the seine nets would be
got out, and a morning or afternoon employed innocently in fishing
beneath the shadow of a headland in some land-locked bay.
It was delightful to Elissa now, her armour all laid aside, clad in
modest raiment given to her by the minstrel girls on board, to join in
these fishing parties. She loved also to watch the sea-gulls grouped
on the rocks, or the nimble-winged flying-fishes springing like a
covey of partridges from the foam. What, in her present softened mood,
when all relating to war and death was distasteful, grieved her,
however, was that even to capture the innocent fishes meant death to
some of the creatures created by the gods, while she soon learned that
when the flying-fishes sprang into the air, it was only because a
group of porpoises was pursuing them. Moreover, she observed that,
especially when near the coast, the ospreys or fish-eagles, swooping
down from their eyries, would often seize them in their talons. Thus,
if they escaped by taking flight from one danger in the sea, they,
nevertheless, succumbed to another danger in the air. And whenever
Elissa allowed herself to think at all, a thing that she, with all her
will, did her utmost to avoid, she vaguely hoped that her fate might
not be that of a flying-fish springing from one danger, that it knew
of close at hand in the water, to another, that it knew not of, in the
air.
But she realised, from thus observing the birds and the fishes, that,
even in the calmest scenes of nature, the eternal laws of death and
destruction are ever present and in force; that there is nought that
liveth but must die, and die, more frequently than not, by a cruel
death. All this only strengthened all the more her serious resolve to
do all within her power to save unhappy humanity from further
suffering, and for the future to work in the interests of peace alone.
Having made up her mind firmly on this point, she determined further
that never again would she raise her own hand in warfare, that never
would she wear armour more.
Calling Cleandra, she bade her bring to her, where she was reclining
under a silken canopy on the poop, the light cuirass and helmet
incrusted with gold that had protected her in many a fight, the trusty
sword with which she had struck in the wars with Mago, in the defence
of the New Town and in the streets of Syracuse, many a blow on behalf
of Carthage. She bade Cleandra bring also to her the sheath of darts,
whence she had drawn years before the weapon which had slain Cnœus
Scipio, and quite recently that which had procured her escape from
Alexander, son of Phidias, by causing his death.
Lastly, she bade Cleandra bring her beautiful shield of polished
steel, inlaid with gold, bearing on its centre a golden representation
of the horse of Carthage. When Cleandra had placed all these weapons
and arms by Elissa’s side on the deck, she asked, with some curiosity: