The high-priest of Serapis presided over the sacrifices to be offered
this morning. Caesar had given beasts in abundance to do honor to the
god; still, the priest had gone but ill-disposed to fulfill his part;
for the imperial command that the citizens’ houses should be filled with
the troops, who were also authorized to make unheard-of demands on their
hosts, had roused his ire against the tyrant, who, in the morning, after
his bath, had appeared to him unhappy indeed, but at the same time a
gifted and conscientious ruler, capable of the highest and grandest
enterprise.
Melissa, in obedience to the lady Euryale, had taken an hour’s rest,
and then refreshed herself by bathing. She now was breakfasting with her
venerated friend, and Philostratus had joined them. He was able to tell
them that a swift State galley was already on its way to overtake and
release her father and brother; and when he saw how glad she was to hear
it, how beautiful, fresh, and pure she was, he thought to himself with
anxiety that it would be a wonder if the imperial slave to his own
passions should not desire to possess this lovely creature.
Euryale also feared this, and Melissa realized what filled them
with anxiety; yet she by no means shared the feeling, and the happy
confidence with which she tried to comfort her old friends, at the same
time pacified and alarmed them. It seemed to her quite foolish and vain
to suppose that the emperor, the mighty ruler of the world, should fall
in love with her, the humble, obscure gem-cutter’s child, who aspired to
one suitor alone. It was merely as a patient wishes for the
physician, she assured herself, that the emperor wished for her
presence--Philostratus had understood that. During the night she had
certainly been seized with great fears, but, as she now thought, without
any cause. What she really had to dread was that she might be falsely
judged by his followers; still, she cared nothing about all these
Romans. However, she would beg Euryale to see Diodoros, and to tell him
what forced her to obey the emperor’s summons, if he should send for
her. It was highly probable that the sick man had been informed of her
interview with Caracalla, and, as her betrothed, he must be told how she
felt toward Caesar; for this was his right, and jealous agitation might
injure him.
Her face so expressed the hope and confidence of a pure heart that when,
after a little time, she withdrew, Euryale said to the philosopher:
“We must not alarm her more! Her trustful innocence perhaps may protect
her better than anxious precautions.”
And Philostratus agreed, and assured her that in any case he expected
good results for Melissa, for she was one of those who were the elect
of the gods and whom they chose to be their instruments. And then he
related what wonderful influence she had over Caesar’s sufferings, and
praised her with his usual enthusiastic warmth.
When Melissa returned, Philostratus had left the matron. She was again
alone with Euryale, who reminded her of the lesson conveyed in the
Christian words that she had explained to her yesterday. Every deed,
every thought, had some influence on the way in which the fulfillment
of time would come for each one; and when the hour of death was over,
no regrets, repentance, or efforts could then alter the past. A single
moment, as her own young experience had taught her, was often sufficient
to brand the name of an estimable man. Till now, her way through life
had led along level paths, through meadows and gardens, and others had
kept their eyes open for her; now she was drawing near to the edge of
a precipice, and at every turning, even at the smallest step, she must
never forget the threatening danger. The best will and the greatest
prudence could not save her if she did not trust to a higher guidance;
and then she asked the girl to whom she raised her heart when she
prayed; and Melissa named Isis and other gods, and lastly the manes of
her dead mother.
During this confession, old Adventus appeared, to summon the girl to his
sovereign. Melissa promised to follow him immediately; and, when the old
man had gone, the matron said:
“Few here pray to the same gods, and he whose worship my husband leads
is not mine. I, with several others, know that there is a Father in
heaven who loves us men, his creatures, and guards us as his children.
You do not yet know him, and therefore you can not hope for anything
from him; but if you will follow the advice of a friend, who was also
once young, think in the future that your right hand is held firmly by
the invisible, beloved hand of your mother. Persuade yourself that she
is by you, and take care that every word, yes, every glance, meets with
her approval. Then she will be there, and will protect you whenever you
require her aid.”
Melissa sank on the breast of her kind friend, embracing her as closely
and kissing her as sincerely as if she had been the beloved mother to
whose care Euryale had commended her.
The counsels of this true friend agreed with those of her own heart, and
so they must be right. When at last they had to part, Euryale wished to
send for one of the gentlemen of the court, whom she knew, that he might
escort her through the troops of Caesar’s attendants and friends who
were waiting, and of the visitors and petitioners; but Melissa felt so
happy and so well protected by Adventus, that she followed him without
further delay. In fact, the old man had a friendly feeling for her,
since she had covered his feet so carefully the day before; she knew it
by the tone of his voice and by the troubled look in his dim eyes.
Even now she did not believe in the dangers at which her friends
trembled for her, and she walked calmly across the lofty marble halls,
the anteroom, and the other vast rooms of the imperial dwelling. The
attendants accompanied her respectfully from door to door, in obedience
to the emperor’s commands, and she went on with a firm step, looking
straight in front of her, without noticing the inquisitive, approving,
or scornful glances which were aimed at her.
In the first rooms she needed an escort, for they were crowded with
Romans and Alexandrians who were waiting for a sign from Caesar to
appeal for his pardon or his verdict, or perhaps only wishing to see
his countenance. The emperor’s “friends” sat at breakfast, of which
Caracalla did not partake. The generals, and the members of his court
not immediately attached to his person, stood together in the various
rooms, while the principal people of Alexandria--several senators and
rich and important citizens of the town--as well as the envoys of the
Egyptian provinces, in magnificent garments and rich gold ornaments,
held aloof from the Romans, and waited in groups for the call of the
usher.
Melissa saw no one, nor did she observe the costly woven hangings on the
walls, the friezes decorated with rare works of art and high reliefs,
nor the mosaic floors over which she passed. She did not notice the hum
and murmur of the numerous voices which surrounded her; nor could she
indeed have understood a single coherent sentence; for, excepting the
ushers and the emperor’s immediate attendants, at the reception-hour no
one was allowed to raise his voice. Expectancy and servility seemed here
to stifle every lively impulse; and when, now and then, the loud call of
one of the ushers rang above the murmur, one of those who were waiting
spontaneously bowed low, or another started up, as if ready to obey any
command. The sensation, shared by many, of waiting in the vicinity of
a high, almost godlike power, in whose hands lay their well-being or
misery, gave rise to a sense of solemnity. Every movement was subdued;
anxious, nay, fearful expectation was written on many faces, and on
others impatience and disappointment. After a little while it was
whispered from ear to ear that the emperor would only grant a few more
audiences; and how many had already waited in vain yesterday, for hours,
in the same place!
Without delay Melissa went on till she had reached the heavy curtain
which, as she already knew, shut off Caesar’s inner apartments.
The usher obligingly drew it back, even before she had mentioned her
name, and while a deputation of the town senators, who had been received
by Caracalla, passed out, she was followed by Alexandrian citizens, the
chiefs of great merchant-houses, whose request for an audience he
had sanctioned. They were for the most part elderly men, and Melissa
recognized among them Seleukus, Berenike’s husband.
Melissa bowed to him, but he did not notice her, and passed by without a
word. Perhaps he was considering the enormous sum to be expended on the
show at night which he, with a few friends, intended to arrange at the
circus in Caesar’s honor.
All was quite still in the large hall which separated the emperor’s
reception-room from the anteroom. Melissa observed only two soldiers,
who were looking out of window, and whose bodies were shaking as though
they were convulsed with profound merriment.
It happened that she had to wait here some time; for the usher begged
her to have patience until the merchants’ audience was over. They were
the last who would be received that day. He invited her to rest on the
couch on which was spread a bright giraffe’s skin, but she preferred
to walk up and down, for her heart was beating violently. And while the
usher vanished from the room, one of the warriors turned his head to
look about him, and directly he caught sight of Melissa he gave his
comrade a push, and said to him, loud enough for Melissa to hear:
“A wonder! Apollonaris, by Eros and all the Erotes, a precious wonder!”
The next moment they both stepped back from the window and stared at the
girl, who stood blushing and embarrassed, and gazed at the floor when
she found with whom she had been left alone.
They were two tribunes of the praetorians, but, notwithstanding their
high grade, they were only young men of about twenty. Twin brothers
of the honorable house of the Aurelia, they had entered the army as
centurions, but had soon been placed at the head of a thousand men, and
appointed tribunes in Caesar’s body-guard. They resembled one another
exactly; and this likeness, which procured them much amusement, they
greatly enhanced by arranging their coal-black beards and hair in
exactly the same way, and by dressing alike down to the rings on their
fingers. One was called Apollonaris, the other Nemesianus Aurelius. They
were of the same height, and equally well grown, and no one could say
which had the finest black eyes, which mouth the haughtiest smile, or
to which of them the thick short beard and the artistically shaved
spot between the under lip and chin was most becoming. The beautifully
embossed ornaments on their breast-plates and shirts of mail, and on the
belt of the short sword, showed that they grudged no expense; in fact,
they thought only of enjoyment, and it was merely for the honor of it
that they were serving for a few years in the imperial guard. By and
by they would rest, after all the hardships of the campaign, in their
palace at Rome, or in the villas on the various estates that they had
inherited from their father and mother, and then, for a change, hold
honorary positions in the public service. Their friends knew that they
also contemplated being married on the same day, when the game of war
should be a thing of the past.
In the mean time they desired nothing in the world but honor and
pleasure; and such pleasure as well-bred, healthy, and genial youths,
with amiability, strength, and money to spend, can always command, they
enjoyed to the full, without carrying it to reckless extravagance. Two
merrier, happier, more popular comrades probably did not exist in the
whole army. They did their duty in the field bravely; during peace, and
in a town like Alexandria, they appeared, on the contrary, like mere
effeminate men of fashion. At least, they spent a large part of their
time in having their black hair crimped; they gave ridiculous sums to
have it anointed with the most delicate perfumes; and it was difficult
to imagine how effectively their carefully kept hands could draw a
sword, and, if necessary, handle the hatchet or spade.
To-day Nemesianus was in the emperor’s anteroom by command, and
Apollonaris, of his own freewill, had taken the place of another
tribune, that he might bear his brother company. They had caroused
through half the night, and had begun the new day by a visit to the
flower market, for love of the pretty saleswomen. Each had a half-opened
rose stuck in between his cuirass and shirt of mail on the left breast,
plucked, as the charming Daphnion had assured them, from a bush which
had been introduced from Persia only the year before. The brothers, at
any rate, had never seen any like them.
While they were looking out of the window they had passed the time by
examining every girl or woman who went by, intending to fling one rose
at the first whose perfect beauty should claim it, and the other flower
at the second; but during the half-hour none had appeared who was worthy
of such a gift. All the beauties in Alexandria were walking in the
streets in the cool hour before sunset, and really there was no lack of
handsome girls. The brothers had even heard that Caesar, who seemed to
have renounced the pleasures of love, had yielded to the charms of a
lovely Greek.
Directly they saw Melissa they were convinced that they had met the
beautiful plaything of the imperial fancy, and each with the same action
offered her his rose, as if moved by the same invisible power.
Apollonaris, who had come into the world a little sooner than his
brother, and who, by right of birth, had therefore a more audacious
manner, stepped boldly up to Melissa and presented his, while Nemesianus
at the same instant bowed to her, and begged her to give his the
preference.
Though their speeches were flattering and well-worded, Melissa repulsed
them by remarking sharply that she did not want their flowers.
“We can easily believe that,” answered Apollonaris, “for are you not
yourself a lovely, blooming rose?”
“Vain flattery,” replied Melissa; “and I certainly do not bloom for
you.”
“That is both cruel and unjust,” sighed Nemesianus, “for that which
you refuse to us poor fellows you grant to another, who can obtain
everything that other mortals yearn for.”
“But we,” interrupted his brother, “are modest, nay, and pious warriors.
We had intended offering up these roses to Aphrodite, but lo! the
goddess has met us in person.”
“Her image at any rate,” added the other.
“And you should thank the foam-born goddess,” continued Apollonaris;
“for she has lent you, in spite of the danger of seeing herself
eclipsed, her own divine charms. Do you think she will be displeased if
we withdraw the flowers and offer them to you?”
“I think nothing,” answered Melissa, “excepting that your honeyed
remarks annoy me. Do what you like with your roses, I will not accept
them.”
“How dare you,” asked Apollonaris, approaching her--“you, to whom the
mother of love has given such wonderfully fresh lips--misuse them by
refusing so sternly the humble petition of her faithful worshipers? If
you would not have Aphrodite enraged with you, hasten to atone for this
transgression. One kiss, my beauty, for her votary, and she will forgive
you.”
Here Apollonaris stretched out his hand toward the girl to draw her to
him, but she motioned him back indignantly, declaring that it would be
reprehensible and cowardly in a soldier to use violence toward a modest
maid.
At this the two brothers laughed heartily, and Nemesianus exclaimed,
“You do not belong to the Temple of Vesta, most lovely of roses, and
yet you are well protected by such sharp thorns that it requires a great
deal of courage to venture to attack you.”
“More,” added Apollonaris, “than to storm a fortress. But what camp or
stronghold contains booty so well worth capturing?”
Thereupon he threw his arm round Melissa and drew her to him.
Neither he nor his brother had ever conducted themselves badly towards
an honorable woman; and if Melissa had been but the daughter of a simple
craftsman, her reproachful remarks would have sufficed to keep them at
a distance. But such immunity was not to be granted to the emperor’s
sweetheart, who could so audaciously reject two brothers accustomed to
easy conquests; her demure severity could hardly be meant seriously.
Apollonaris therefore took no notice of her violent resistance, but held
her hands forcibly, and, though he could not succeed in kissing her for
her struggling, he pressed his lips to her cheek, while she endeavored
to free herself and pushed him off, breathless with real indignation.
‘Till now, the brothers had taken the matter as a joke; but when
Apollonaris seized the girl again, and she, beside herself with fear,
cried for help, he at once set her free.
It was too late; for the curtains of the audience-room were already
withdrawn, and Caracalla approached. His countenance was red and
distorted; he trembled with rage, and his angry glance fell like a flash
of lightning on the luckless brothers. Close by his side was the prefect
Macrinus, who feared lest he should be attacked by a fresh fit; and
Melissa shared his fears, as Caracalla cried to Apollonaris in an angry
voice, “Scoundrel that you are, you shall repent of this!”
Still, Aurelius had, by various wanton jokes, incurred the emperor’s
wrath before now, and he was accustomed to disarm it by some insinuating
confession, so he answered him with a roguish smile, while raising his
eyes to him humbly:
“Forgive me, great Caesar! Our poor strength, as you well know, is
easily defeated in conflicts against overpowering beauty. Dainties are
sweet, not only for children. Long ago Mars was drawn to Venus; and if
I--”
He had spoken these words in Latin, which Melissa did not understand;
but the color left the emperor’s face, and, pale with excitement, he
stammered out laboriously:
“You have--you have dared--”
“For this rose,” began the youth again, “I begged a hasty kiss from the
beauty, which certainly blooms for all, and she--” He raised his hands
and eyes imploringly to the despot; but Caracalla had already snatched
Macrinus’s sword from its sheath, and before Aurelius could defend
himself he was struck first on the head with the flat of the blade, and
then received a series of sharp cuts on his brow and face.
Streaming with blood from the gaping wounds which the victim, trembling
with fear and rage, covered with his hands, he surrendered himself to
the care of his startled brother, while Caesar overwhelmed them both
with a flood of furious reproaches.
When Nemesianus began to bind up his wounded brother’s head with a
handkerchief handed to him by Melissa, and Caracalla saw the gaping
wounds he had inflicted, he became quieter, and said:
“I think those lips will not try to steal kisses again for some time
from honorable maidens. You and Nemesianus have forfeited your lives;
how ever, the beseeching look of those all-powerful eyes has saved
you--you are spared. Take your brother away, Nemesianus. You are not to
leave your quarters until further orders.”
With this he turned his back on the twins, but on the threshold he again
addressed them and said:
“You were mistaken about this maiden. She is not less pure and noble
than your own sister.”
The merchants were dismissed from the tablinum more hastily than was due
to the importance of their business, in which, until this interruption,
the sovereign had shown a sympathetic interest and intelligence which
surprised them; and they left Caesar’s presence disappointed, but with
the promise that they should be received again in the evening.
As soon as they had retired, Caracalla threw himself again on the couch.
The bath had done him good. Still somewhat exhausted, though his head
was clear, he would not be hindered from receiving the deputation for
which he had important matters to decide; but this fresh attack of rage
revenged itself by a painful headache. Pale, and with slightly quivering
limbs, he dismissed the prefect and his other friends, and desired
Epagathos to call Melissa.
He needed rest, and again the girl’s little hand, which had yesterday
done him good, proved its healing power. The throbbing in his head
yielded to her gentle touch, and by degrees exhaustion gave way to the
comfortable languor of convalesence.
To-day, as yesterday, he expressed his thanks to Melissa, but he
found her changed. She looked timidly and anxiously down into her lap
excepting when she replied to a direct question; and yet he had done
everything to please her. Her relations would soon be free and in
Alexandria once more, and Zminis was in prison, chained hand and foot.
This he told her; and, though she was glad, it was not enough to restore
the calm cheerfulness he had loved to see in her.
He urged her, with warm insistence, to tell him what it was that weighed
on her, and at last, with eyes full of tears, she forced herself to say:
“You yourself have seen what they take me for.”
“And you have seen,” he quickly replied, “how I punish those who forget
the respect they owe to you.”
“But you are so dreadful in your wrath!” The words broke from her lips.
“Where others blame, you can destroy; and you do it, too, when passion
carries you away. I am bound to obey your call, and here I am. But I
fancy myself like the little dog--you may see him any day--which in the
beast-garden of the Panaeum, shares a cage with a royal tiger. The huge
brute puts up with a great deal from his small companion, but woe betide
the dog if the tiger once pats him with his heavy, murderous paw--and he
might, out of sheer forgetfulness!”
“But this hand,” Caesar broke in, raising his delicate hand covered with
rings, “will never forget, any more than my heart, how much it owes to
you.”
“Until I, in some unforeseen way--perhaps quite unconsciously--excite
your anger,” sighed Melissa. “Then you will be carried away by passion,
and I shall share the common fate.”
Caracalla was about to reply indignantly, but just then Adventus entered
the room, announcing the chief astrologer of the Temple of Serapis.
Caracalla refused to receive him just then, but he anxiously asked
whether he had any signs to report. The reply was in the affirmative,
and in a few minutes Caesar had in his hand a wax tablet covered with
words and figures. He studied it eagerly, and his countenance cleared;
still holding the tablets, he exclaimed to Melissa:
“You, daughter of Heron, have nothing to fear from me, you of all the
world! In some quiet hour I will explain to you how my planet yearns to
yours, and yours--that is, yourself--to mine. The gods have created us
for each other, child; I am already under your influence, but your heart
still hesitates, and I know why; it is because you distrust me.”
Melissa raised her large eyes to his face in astonishment, and he went
on, pensively:
“The past must stand; it is like a scar which no water will wash
out. What have you not heard of my past? What did they feel, in their
self-conscious virtue, when they talked of my crimes? Did it ever occur
to any one, I wonder, that with the purple I assumed the sword, to
protect my empire and throne? And when I have used the blade, how
eagerly have fingers pointed at me, how gladly slanderous tongues have
wagged! Who has ever thought of asking what compulsion led me to shed
blood, or how much it cost me to do it? You, fair child--and the stars
confirm it--you were sent by fate to share the burden that oppresses
me, and to you I will ease my heart, to you I will confide all, unasked,
because my heart prompts me to do so. But first you must tell me with
what tales they taught you to hate the man to whom, as you yourself
confessed, you nevertheless felt drawn.”
At this Melissa raised her hands in entreaty and remonstrance, and
Caesar went on:
“I will spare you the pains. They say that I am ever athirst for fresh
bloodshed if only some one is rash enough to suggest it to me. You were
told that Caesar murdered his brother Geta, with many more who did but
speak his victim’s name. My father-in-law, and his daughter Plautilla,
my wife, were, it is said, the victims of my fury. I killed Papinian,
the lawyer and prefect, and Cilo--whom you saw yesterday--nearly shared
the same fate. What did they conceal? Nothing. Your nod confesses
it--well, and why should they, since speaking ill of others is their
greatest delight? It is all true, and I should never think of denying
it. But did it ever occur to you, or did any one ever suggest to you, to
inquire how it came to pass that I perpetrated such horrors; I--who
was brought up in the fear of the gods and the law, like you and other
people?”
“No, my lord, never,” replied Melissa, in distress. “But I beg you, I
beseech you, say no more about such dreadful things. I know full well
that you are not wicked; that you are much better than people think.”
“And for that very reason,” cried Caesar, whose cheeks were flushed with
pleasure in the hard task he had set himself, “you must hear me. I am
Caesar. There is no judge over me; I need give account to none for my
actions. Nor do I. Who, besides yourself, is more to me than the flies
on that cup?”
“And your conscience?” she timidly put in.
“It raises hideous questions from time to time,” he replied, gloomily.
“It can be obtrusive, but we can teach ourselves not to answer--besides,
what you call conscience knows the motives for every action, and,
remembering them, judges leniently. You, child, should do the same; for
you--”
“O my lord, what can my poor judgment matter?” Melissa panted out; but
Caracalla exclaimed, as if the question pained him:
“Must I explain all that? The stars, as you know, proclaim to you, as
to me, that a higher power has joined us as light and warmth are joined.
Have you forgotten how we both felt only yesterday? Or am I mistaken?
Has not Roxana’s soul entered into that divinely lovely form because it
longed for its lost companion spirit?”
He spoke vehemently, with a quivering of his eyelids; but feeling her
hand tremble in his own, he collected himself, and went on in a lower
tone, but with urgent emphasis:
“I will let you glance into this bosom, closed to every other eye; for
my desolate heart is inspired by you to fresh energy and life; I am as
grateful to you as a drowning man to his deliverer. I shall suffocate
and die if I repress the impulse to open my heart to you!”
What change was this that had come over this mysterious being? Melissa
felt as though she was gazing on the face of a stranger, for, though his
eyelids still quivered, his eyes were bright with ecstatic fire and his
features looked more youthful. On that noble brow the laurel wreath
he wore looked well. Also, as she now observed, he was magnificently
attired; he wore a close-fitting tunic, or breast-plate made of thick
woolen stuff, and over it a purple mantle, while from his bare throat
hung a precious medallion, shield-shaped, and set in gold and gems, the
center formed by a large head of Medusa, with beautiful though terrible
features. The lion-heads of gold attached to each corner of the short
cloak he wore over the sham coat of mail, were exquisite works of art,
and sandals embroidered with gold and gems covered his feet and ankles.
He was dressed to-day like the heir of a lordly house, anxious to charm;
nay, indeed, like an emperor, as he was; and with what care had his
body-slave arranged his thin curls!
He passed his hand over his brow and cast a glance at a silver mirror on
the low table at the head of his couch. When he turned to her again his
amorous eyes met Melissa’s.
She looked down in startled alarm. Was it for her sake that Caesar
had thus decked himself and looked in the mirror? It seemed scarcely
possible, and yet it flattered and pleased her. But in the next instant
she longed more fervently than she ever had before for a magic charm
by which she might vanish and be borne far, far away from this dreadful
man. In fancy she saw the vessel which the lady Berenike had in
readiness. She would, she must fly hence, even if it should part her for
a time from Diodoros.
Did Caracalla read her thought? Nay, he could not see through her; so
she endured his gaze, tempting him to speak; and his heart beat high
with hope as he fancied he saw that she was beginning to be affected by
his intense agitation. At this moment he felt convinced, as he often
had been, that the most atrocious of his crimes had been necessary and
inevitable. There was something grand and vast in his deeds of blood,
and that--for he flattered himself he knew the female heart--must win
her admiration, besides the awe and love she already felt.
During the night, at his waking, and in his bath, he had felt that
she was as necessary to him as the breath of life and hope. What he
experienced was love as the poets had sung it. How often had he laughed
it to scorn, and boasted that he was armed against the arrows of Eros!
Now, for the first time, he was aware of the anxious rapture, the ardent
longing of which he had read in so many songs. There stood the object of
his passion. She must hear him, must be his--not by compulsion, not by
imperial command, but of the free impulse of her heart.
His confession would help to this end.
With a swift gesture, as if to throw off the last trace of fatigue, he
sat up and began in a firm voice, with a light in his eyes:
“Yes, I killed my brother Geta. You shudder. And yet, if at this day,
when I know all the results of the deed, the state of affairs were the
same as then, I would do it again! That shocks you. But only listen, and
then you will say with me that it was Fate which compelled me to act so,
and not otherwise.”
He paused, and then mistaking the anxiety which was visible in Melissa’s
face for sympathetic attention, he began his story, confident of her
interest:
“When I was born, my father had not yet assumed the purple, but he
already aimed at the sovereignty. Augury had promised it to him; my
mother knew this, and shared his ambition. While I was still at my
nurse’s breast he was made consul; four years later he seized the
throne. Pertinax was killed, the wretched Didius Julianus bought the
empire, and this brought my father to Rome from Pannonia. Meanwhile he
had sent us children, my brother Geta and me, away from the city; nor
was it till he had quelled the last resistance on the Tiber that he
recalled us.
“I was then but a child of five, and yet one day of that time I remember
vividly. My father was going through Rome in solemn procession. His
first object was to do due honor to the corpse of Pertinax. Rich
hangings floated from every window and balcony in the city. Garlands of
flowers and laurel wreaths adorned the houses, and pleasant odors were
wafted to us as we went. The jubilation of the people was mixed with the
trumpet-call of the soldiers; handkerchiefs were waved and acclamations
rang out. This was in honor of my father, and of me also, the future
Caesar. My little heart was almost bursting with pride; it seemed to
me that I had grown several heads taller, not only than other boys, but
than the people that surrounded me.
“When the funeral procession began, my mother wished me to go with her
into the arcade where seats had been placed for the ladies to view, but
I refused to follow her. My father became angry. But when he heard me
declare that I was a man and the future Emperor, that I would rather see
nothing than show myself to the people among the women, he smiled. He
ordered Cilo, who was then the prefect of Rome, to lead me to the seats
of the past consuls and the old senators. I was delighted at this; but
when he allowed my younger brother Geta to follow me, my pleasure was
entirely spoiled.”
“And you were then five years old?” asked Melissa, astonished.
“That surprises you!” smiled Caracalla. “But I had already traveled
through half the empire, and had experienced more than other boys
of twice my age. I was, at any rate, still child enough to forget
everything else in the brilliant spectacle that unfolded before my eyes.
I remember to this day the colored wax statue which represented Pertinax
so exactly that it might have been himself risen from the grave. And the
procession! It seemed to have no end; one new thing followed another.
All walked past in mourning robes, even the choir of singing boys and
men. Cilo explained to me who had made the statues of the Romans who had
served their country, who the artists and scholars were, whose statues
and busts were carried by. Then came bronze groups of the people of
every nation in the empire, in their costumes. Cilo told me what they
were called, and where they lived; he then added that one day they would
all belong to me; that I must learn the art of fighting, in case they
resisted me, and should require suppressing. Also, when they carried
the flags of the guilds past, when the horse and foot soldiers, the
race-horses from the circus and several other things came by, he
continued to explain them. I only remember it now because it made me so
happy. The old man spoke to me alone; he regarded me alone as the future
sovereign. He left Geta to eat the sweets which his aunts had given him,
and when I too wanted some my brother refused to let me have any. Then
Cilo stroked my hair, and said: ‘leave him his toys. When you are a man
you shall have the whole Roman Empire for your own, and all the nations
I told you of.’ Geta meanwhile had thought better of it, and pushed some
of the sweetmeats toward me. I would not have them, and, when he tried
to make me take them, I threw them into the road.”
“And you remember all that?” said Melissa.
“More things than these are indelibly stamped on my mind from that day,”
said Caesar. “I can see before me now the pile on which Pertinax was to
be burned. It was splendidly decorated, and on the top stood the gilt
chariot in which he had loved to ride. Before the consuls fired the logs
of Indian wood, my father led us to the image of Pertinax, that we might
kiss it. He held me by the hand. Wherever we went, the senate and people
hailed us with acclamations. My mother carried Geta in her arms.
This delighted the populace. They shouted for her and my brother as
enthusiastically as for us, and I recollect to this day how that went to
my heart. He might have the sweets and welcome, but what the people had
to offer was due only to my father and me, not to my brother. At that
moment I first fully understood that Severus was the present and I the
future Caesar. Geta had only to obey, like every one else.
“After kissing the image, I stood, still holding my father’s hand, to
watch the flames. I can see them now, crackling and writhing as they
gained on the wood, licking it and fawning, as it were, till it caught
and sent up a rush of sparks and fire. At last the whole pile was one
huge blaze. Then, suddenly, out of the heart of the flames an eagle
rose. The creature flapped its broad wings in the air, which was golden
with sunshine and quivering with heat, soaring above the smoke and
fire, this way and that. But it soon took flight, away from the furnace
beneath. I shouted with delight, and cried to my father: ‘Look at the
bird! Where is he flying?’ And he eagerly answered: ‘Well done! If
you desire to preserve the power I have conquered for you always
undiminished, you must keep your eyes open. Let no sign pass unnoticed,
no opportunity neglected.’
“He himself acted on this rule. To him obstacles existed only to be
removed, and he taught me, too, to give myself neither peace nor rest,
and not to spare the life of a foe.--That festival secured my father the
suffrages of the Romans. Meanwhile Pescennius Niger rose up in the East
with a large army and took the field against Severus. But my father
was not the man to hesitate. Within a few months of the obsequies of
Pertinax his opponent was a headless corpse.
“There was yet another obstacle to be removed. You have heard of Clodius
Albinus. My father had adopted him and raised him to share his throne.
But Severus could not divide the rule with any man.
“When I was nine years old I saw, after the battle of Lugdunum, the dead
face of Albinus’s head; it was set up in front of the Curia on a lance.
“I now was the second personage in the empire, next to my father; the
first among the youth of the whole world, and the future emperor. When
I was eleven the soldiers hailed me as Augustus; that was in the war
against the Parthians, before Ktesiphon. But they did the same to Geta.
This was like wormwood in the sweet draught; and if then--But what can a
girl care about the state, and the fate of rulers and nations?”
“Yes, go on,” said Melissa. “I see already what you are coming to. You
disliked the idea of sharing your power with another.”
“Nay,” cried Caracalla, vehemently, “I not only disliked it, it was
intolerable, impossible! What I want you to see is that I did not grudge
my brother his share of my father’s inheritance, like any petty trader.
The world--that is the point--the world itself was too small for two of
us. It was not I, but Fate, which had doomed Geta to die. I am certain
of this, and so must you be. Yes, it was Fate. Fate prompted the child’s
little hand to attempt its brother’s life. And that was long before
my brain could form a thought or my baby-lips could stammer his hated
name.”
“Then you tried to kill your brother even in infancy?” asked Melissa,
and her large eyes dilated with horror as she gazed at the terrible
narrator. But Caracalla went on, in an apologetic tone:
“I was then but two years old. It was at Mediolanum, soon after Geta’s
birth. An egg was found in the court of the palace; a hen had laid it
close to a pillar. It was of a purple hue-red all over like the imperial
mantle, and this indicated that the newly born infant was destined to
sovereignty. Great was the rejoicing. The purple marvel was shown even
to me who could but just walk. I, like a naughty boy, flung it down; the
shell cracked, and the contents poured out on the pavement. My mother
saw it, and her exclamation, ‘Wicked child, you have murdered your
brother!’ was often repeated to me in after-years. It never struck me as
particularly motherly.”
Here he paused, gazing meditatively into vacancy, and then asked the
girl, who had listened intently:
“Were you never haunted by a word so that you could not be rid of it?”
“Oh, yes,” cried Melissa; “a striking rhythm in a song, or a line of
poetry--”
Caracalla nodded agreement, and went on more vehemently: “That is what
I experienced at the words, ‘You have murdered your brother!’ I not only
heard them now and then with my inward ear, but incessantly, like the
dreary hum of the flies in my camp-tent, for hours at a time, by day
and by night. No fanning could drive these away. The diabolical voice
whispered loudest when Geta had done anything to vex me; or if things
had been given him which I did not wish him to have. And how often that
happened! For I--I was only Bassianus to my mother; but her youngest was
her dear little Geta.
“So the years passed. We had, while still quite young, our own teams
in the circus. One day, when we were driving for a wager-we were still
boys, and I was ahead of the other lads--the horses of my chariot shied
to one side. I was thrown some distance on the course. Geta saw this. He
turned his horses to the right where I lay. He drove over his brother as
he would over straw and apple-parings in the dust; and his wheel
broke my thigh. Who knows what else it crushed in me? One thing is
certain--from that date the most painful of my sufferings originated.
And he, the mean scoundrel, had done it intentionally. He had sharp
eyes. He knew how to guide his steeds. He had never driven his wheel
over a hazel-nut in the sand of the arena against his will; and I was
lying some distance from the driving course.”
Caesar’s eyelids blinked spasmodically as he uttered this accusation,
and his very glance revealed the raging fire that was burning in his
soul. Melissa’s sad cry of:
“What terrible suspicion!” he answered with a short, scornful laugh and
the furious assertion:
“Oh, there were friends enough who informed me what hope Geta had
founded on this act of treachery. The disappointment made him irritable
and listless, when Galenus had succeeded in curing me so far that I was
able to throw away my Crutch; and my limp--at least so they tell me--is
hardly perceptible.”
“Not at all, most certainly not at all,” Melissa sympathetically assured
him. He, however, went on:
“Yet what I endured meanwhile!--and while I passed so many long weeks of
pain and impatience on a couch, the words my mother had said about the
brother whom I murdered rang constantly in my ears as though a reciter
were engaged by day and night to reiterate them.
“But even this passed away. With the pain, which had spoiled many
good hours for me, the quiet had brought me something more to the
purpose-thoughts and plans. Yes, during those peaceful weeks the things
my father and tutor had taught me became clear and real for the first
time. I realized that I must become energetic if I meant ever to be a
thorough sovereign. As soon as I could use my foot again I became an
industrious and docile pupil under Cilo. From a child up to the time of
this cruel experience, my youthful heart had clung to my nurse. She was
a Christian from my father’s African home--I knew she loved me best
on earth. My mother knew of no higher destiny than that of being the
Domna,--[Domna, lady or mistress, in corrupt Latin. Hence her name of
Julia Domna] the lady of the soldiers, the mother of the camp, and the
lady philosopher among the sages. What she gave me in the way of love
was but copper alms. She threw golden solidi of love into Geta’s lap in
lavish abundance. And her sister and her nieces, who often lived with
us, treated me exactly as she did. They were distantly civil, or
they shunned me; but my brother was their spoiled plaything. I was as
incapable as Geta was master of the art of stealing hearts; but in my
childhood I needed none of them: for, if I wished for a kind word, a
sweet kiss, or the love of a woman, my nurse’s arms were open to me. Nor
was she an ordinary woman. As the widow of a tribune who had fallen in
my father’s service, she had undertaken to attend on me. She loved me
as no one else ever did. She was also the only person whom I would
willingly obey. I came into the world full of wild instincts, but she
knew how to tame them kindly. My aversion to my brother was the one
thing she checked but feebly, for he was a thorn in her side too. I
learned this when she, who was so gentle, explained to me, with asperity
in her tone, that there was but one God in heaven, and on earth but
one emperor, who should govern the world in his name. She also imparted
these convictions to others, and this turned to her disadvantage. My
mother parted us, and sent her back to her African home. She died soon
after.” He was silent, and gazed pensively into vacancy; soon, however,
he collected his thoughts and said, lightly:
“Well, I became Cilo’s diligent pupil.”
“But,” asked Melissa, “did you not say that at one time you attempted
his life?”
“I did so,” replied Caracalla darkly; “for a moment arrived when I
cursed his teaching, and yet it was certainly wise and well meant. You
see, child, all of you who go through life humbly and without power are
trained to submit obediently to the will of Heaven. Cilo taught me to
place my own power, and the greatness of the realm which it would be
incumbent on me to reign over, above everything, even above the gods. It
was impressed upon you and yours to hold the life of another sacred; to
us, our duty as the sovereign transcends this law. Even the blood of a
brother must flow if it is for the good of the state intrusted to us. My
nurse had taught me that being good meant doing unto others as we would
be done by; Cilo cried to me: ‘Strike down, that you may not be struck
down--away with mercy, if the welfare of the state is threatened!’ And
how many hands are raised against Rome, the universal empire, which
I rule over! It needs a strong hand to keep its antagonistic parts
together. Otherwise it would fall apart like a bundle of arrows when the
string that bound them is broken. And I, even as a boy, had sworn to my
father, by the Terminus stone in the Capitol, never to abandon a single
inch of his ground without fighting for it. He, Severus, was the wisest
of the rulers. Only the blind love for his second son, encouraged by the
women, caused him to forget his moderation and prudence. My brother Geta
was to reign together with me over the empire, which ought to have
been mine alone as the first-born. Every year festivals were kept, with
prayers and sacrifices, to the ‘love of the brothers.’ You have perhaps
seen the coins, which show us hand in hand, and have on them the
inscription, ‘Eternal union’!
“I in union--I hand in hand with the man I most hated under the sun! It
almost maddened me only to hear his voice. I would have liked best of
all to spring at his throat when I saw him with his learned fellows
squandering their time. Do you know what they did? They invented the
names by which the voices of different animals were to be known. Once
I snatched the pencil out of the hand of the freedman as he was writing
the sentences, ‘The horse neighs, the pig grunts, the goat bleats, the
cow lows, the sheep baas.’ ‘He, himself,’ I added, ‘croaks like a hoarse
jay.’
“That I should share the government with this miserable, faint-hearted,
poisonous nobody could never be,--this enemy, who, when I said ‘Yes,’
cried ‘No!’ Who frustrated all my measures,--it was impossible! It would
have caused the destruction of the state, as certainly as it was the
unfairest and unwisest of the deeds of Severus, to place the younger
brother as co-regent with the first-born, the rightful heir to the
throne. I, whom my father had taught to watch for signs, was reminded
every hour that this unbearable position must come to an end.
“After the death of Severus, we lived at first close to one another in
separate parts of the same palace like two lions in a cage across which
a partition has been erected, so that they may not reciprocally mangle
each other.
“We used to meet at my mother’s.
“That morning my mastiff had bitten Geta’s wolfhound and killed him, and
they had found a black liver in the beast he had sent for sacrifice.
I had been informed of this. Destiny was on my side. This indolent
inactivity must be brought to a close. I myself do not know how I felt
as I mounted the steps to my mother’s rooms. I only remember distinctly
that a demon cried continually in my ear, ‘You have murdered your
brother!’ Then I suddenly found myself face to face with him. It was in
the empress’s reception-room. And when I saw the hated flat-shaped head
so close to me, when his beardless mouth with its thick underlip smiled
at me so sweetly and at the same time so falsely, I felt as if I again
heard the cry with which he had cheered on his horse. And I felt ... I
even felt the pain-as if he broke my thigh again with his wheel. And at
the same time a fiend whispered in my ear: ‘Destroy him, or he will kill
you, and through him Rome will perish!’
“Then I seized my sword. In his odious, peevish voice he said
something--I forget what nonsense--to me. Then it appeared to me as
if all the sheep and goats over which he had squandered his time were
bleating at me. The blood rushed to my head. The room spun round me in a
circle. Black spots on a red ground danced before my eyes.
“And then--What flashed in my right hand was my own naked sword! I
neither heard nor said anything further. Nor had I planned, nor ever
thought of, what then occurred.... But suddenly I felt as if a mountain
of oppressive lead had fallen from my breast. How easily I could breathe
again! All that had just before turned round me in a mad, whirling dance
stood still. The sun shone brightly in the large room; a shaft of light,
showing dancing dust, fell on Geta. He sank on his knees close to me,
with my sword in his breast. My mother made a fruitless effort to shield
him. His blood trickled over her hand. I can still see every ring on
those slender, white fingers. I also remember distinctly how, when I
raised my sword against him, my mother rushed in between us to protect
her favorite. The sharp blade, as she tried to seize it, accidentally
grazed her hand--I know not how--only the skin was slightly cut. Yet
what a scream she gave over the wound which the son had given his
mother! Julia Maesa, her daughter Mammara, and the other women, rushed
in. How they exaggerated! They made a river out of every drop of blood.
“So the dreadful deed was done; and yet, had I let the wretch live, I
should have been a traitor to Rome, to myself, and to my father’s life’s
work. That day, for the first time, I was ruler of the world. Those who
accuse me of fratricide no doubt believe themselves to be right. But
they certainly are not. I know better. You also know now with me that
destiny, and not I, struck Geta out from among the living.”
Here he sat for some time in breathless silence. Then he asked Melissa:
“You understand now how I came to shed my brother’s blood?”
She started, and repeated gently after him: “Yes, I understand it.”
Deep compassion filled her heart, and yet she felt she dare not sanction
what she had heard and deplored. Torn by deep and conflicting feelings
she threw back her head, brushed her hair off her face, and cried: “Let
me go now; I can bear it no longer!”
“So soft-hearted?” asked he, and shook his head disapprovingly. “Life
rages more wildly round the throne than in an artist’s home. You will
have to learn to swim through the roaring torrent with me. Believe me,
even enormities can become quite commonplace. And, besides, why does it
still shock you when you yourself know that it was indispensable?”
“I am only a weak girl, and I feel as if I had witnessed these fearful
deeds, and had to bear the terrible blood-guiltiness with you!” broke
from her lips.
“That is what you must and shall do! It is to that end that I have
confided to you what no one else has ever heard from my mouth!” cried
Caracalla, his eyes flashing more brightly. She felt as though this cry
called her from her slumbers and revealed the precipice to which she had
strayed in her sleepwalking.
When Caracalla had begun telling her of his youth, she had only listened
with half an ear; for she could not forget Berenike’s rescuing ship. But
soon his confessions completely attracted her attention, and the lament
of this powerful man on whom so many injuries and wrongs had fallen, who
even in childhood had been deprived of the happiness of a mother’s love,
had touched her tender heart. That which was afterward told to her she
had identified with her own humble life; she heard with a shudder that
it was to the malice of his brother that this unhappy being owed the
injury which, like a poisonous blight, had marred for him all the joys
of existence, while she owed all that was loveliest and best in her
young life to a brother’s love.
The grounds on which Caracalla had based the assertion that destiny had
compelled him to murder Geta appeared to her young and inexperienced
mind as indisputable. He was only the pitiable victim of his birth and
of a cruel fate. Besides, the humblest and most sober-minded can not
resist the charm of majesty; and this hapless man, who had honored
Melissa with his confidence, and who had assured her so earnestly that
she was of such importance to him and could do so much for him, was the
ruler of the universe.
She had also felt, after Caesar’s confession, that she had a right to
be proud, since he had thought her worthy to take an interest in the
tragedy in the imperial palace, as if she had been a member of the
court. In her lively imagination she had witnessed the ghastly act to
which he--as she had certainly believed, even when she had replied to
his question--had been forced by fate.
But the demand which had followed her answer now recurred to her. The
picture of Diodoros, which had completely vanished from her thoughts
while she had been listening, suddenly appeared to her, and, as she
fancied, he looked at her reproachfully.
Had she, then, transgressed against her betrothed?
No, no, indeed she had not!
She loved him, and only him; and for that very reason, her upright
judgment told her now, that it would be sinning against her lover to
carry out Caracalla’s wish, as if she had become his fellow-culprit,
or certainly the advocate of the bloody outrage. She could think of
no answer to his “That is what you must and shall do!” that would not
awaken his wrath. Cautiously, and with sincere thanks for his confidence
in her, she begged him once more to allow her to leave him, because she
needed rest after such a shock to her mind. And it would also do him
good to grant himself a short rest. But he assured her he knew that
he could only rest when he had fulfilled his duty as a sovereign. His
father had said, a few minutes before he drew his last breath:
“If there is anything more to be done, give it me to do,” and he, the
son, would do likewise.
“Moreover,” he concluded, “it has done me good to bring to light that
which I had for so long kept sealed within me. To gaze in your face at
the same time was, perhaps, even better physic.”
At this he rose and, seizing the startled girl by both hands, he cried:
“You, child, can satisfy the insatiable! The love which I offer you
resembles a full bunch of grapes, and yet I am quite content if you will
give me back but one berry.”
At the very commencement, this declaration was drowned by a loud shout
which rang through the room in waves of sound.
Caracalla started, but, before he could reach the window, old Adventus
rushed in breathless; and he was followed, though in a more dignified
manner, with a not less hasty step and every sign of excitement, by
Macrinus, the prefect of the praetorians, with his handsome young son
and a few of Caesar’s friends.
“This is how I rest!” exclaimed Caracalla, bitterly, as he released
Melissa’s hand and turned inquiringly to the intruders.
The news had spread among the praetorians and the Macedonian legions,
that the emperor, who, contrary to his custom, had not shown himself
for two days, was seriously ill, and at the point of death. Feeling
extremely anxious about one who had showered gold on them, and given
them such a degree of freedom as no other imperator had ever allowed
them, they had collected before the Serapeum and demanded to see Caesar.
Caracalla’s eyes lighted up at this information, and, excitedly pleased,
he cried:
“They only are really faithful!”
He asked for his sword and helmet, and sent for the ‘paludamentum’,
the general’s cloak of purple, embroidered with gold, which he never
otherwise wore except on the field. The soldiers should see that he
intended leading in future battles.
While they waited, he conversed quietly with Macrinus and the others;
when, however, the costly garment covered his shoulders, and when his
favorite, Theocritus, who had known best how to support him during his
illness, offered him an arm, he answered imperiously that he required no
assistance.
“Nevertheless, you should, after so serious an attack--” the physician
in ordinary ventured to exhort him; but he interrupted him scornfully,
and, glancing toward Melissa, exclaimed:
“Those little hands there contain more healing power than yours and the
great Galenus’s put together.”
Thereupon he beckoned to the young girl, and when she once more besought
his permission to go, he left the room with the commanding cry, “You are
to wait!”
He had rather far to go and some steps to mount in order to reach the
balcony which ran round the base of the cupola of the Pantheon which his
father had joined to the Serapeum, yet he undertook this willingly, as
thence he could best be seen and heard.
A few hours earlier it would have been impossible for him to reach this
point, and Epagathos had arranged that a sedan-chair and strong bearers
should be waiting at the foot of the steps; but he refused it, for he
felt entirely restored, and the shouts of his warriors intoxicated him
like sparkling wine.
Meanwhile Melissa remained behind in the audience-chamber. She must obey
Caesar’s command. Yet it frightened her; and, besides, she was woman
enough to feel it as an offense that the man who had assured her so
sincerely of his gratitude, and who even feigned to love her, should
have refused so harshly her desire to rest. She foresaw that, as long as
he remained in Alexandria, she would have to be his constant companion.
She trembled at the idea; yet, if she tried to fly from him, all she
loved would be lost. No, this must not be thought of! She must remain.
She threw herself on a divan, lost in thought, and as she realized the
confidence of which the unapproachable, proud emperor had thought
her worthy, a secret voice whispered to her that it was certainly a
delightful thing to share the overwhelming agitations of the highest
and greatest. And was he then really bad, he who felt the necessity of
vindicating himself before a simple girl, and to whom it appeared so
intolerable to be misjudged and condemned even by her? Besides being
the emperor and a suffering man, Caracalla had also become her wooer.
It never once entered her mind to accept him; but still it flattered her
extremely that the greatest of men should declare his love for her. Why,
then, need she fear him? She was so important to him, she could do so
much for him, that he would surely take care not to insult or offend
her. This modest child, who till quite lately had trembled before her
own father’s temper, now, in the consciousness of Caesar’s favor,
felt herself strong to triumph over the wrath and passions of the most
powerful and most terrible of men. In the mean time she dared not risk
confessing to him that she was another’s bride, for that might determine
him to let Diodoros feel his power. The thought that the emperor could
care about her good opinion greatly pleased her; it even had the effect
of raising the hope in her inexperienced mind that Caracalla would
moderate his passion for her sake--when old Adventus came into the room.
He was in a hurry; for preparations had to be made in the dining-hall
for the reception of the ambassadors. But when at his appearance Melissa
rose from the divan he begged her good-naturedly to continue resting.
No one could tell what humor Caracalla might be in when he returned. She
had often seen how rapidly that chameleon could change color. Who that
had seen him just now, going to meet his soldiers, would believe that
he had a few hours before sent away, with hard words, the widow of the
Egyptian governor, who had come to beg mercy for her husband?
“So that wretch, Theocritus, has really carried out his intention of
ruining the honest Titianus?” asked Melissa, horrified.
“Not only of ruining him,” answered the chamberlain; “Titianus is by
this time beheaded.”
The old man bowed and left the room; but Melissa remained behind,
feeling as if the floor had opened in front of her. He, whose ardent
assurance she had just now believed, that he had been forced to shed the
blood of an impious wretch, in obedience to an overpowering fate, was
capable of allowing the noblest of men to be beheaded, unjudged, merely
to please a mercenary favorite! His confession, then, had been nothing
but a revolting piece of acting! He had endeavored to vanquish the
disgust she felt for him merely to ensnare her and her healing hand more
surely--as his plaything, his physic, his sleeping draught. And she
had entered the trap, and acquitted him of the most horrible
blood-guiltiness.
He had that very day rejected, without pity, a noble Roman lady who
petitioned for her husband’s life, and with the same breath he had
afterwards befooled her!
She started up, indignant and deeply wounded. Was it not ignominious
even to wait here like a prisoner in obedience to the command of this
wretch? And she had dared for one moment to compare this monster with
Diodoros, the handsomest, the best, and most amiable of youths!
It seemed to her inconceivable. If only he had not the power to destroy
all that was dearest to her heart, what pleasure it would have been to
shout in his face:
“I detest you, murderer, and I am the betrothed of another, who is as
good and beautiful as you are vile and odious!”
Then the question occurred to her whether it was only for the sake of
her healing hands that he had felt attracted to her, and had made her an
avowal as if she were his equal.
The blood mounted to her face at this thought, and with a burning brow
she walked to the open window.
A crowd of presentiments rushed into her innocent and, till then,
unsuspecting heart, and they were all so alarming that it was a relief
to her when a shout of joy from the panoplied breasts of several
thousand armed men rent the air. Mingling with this overpowering
demonstration of united rejoicing from such huge masses, came the blare
of the trumpets and horns of the assembled legions. What a maddening
noise!
Before her lay the square, filled with many legions of warriors who
surrounded the Serapeum in their shining armor, with their eagles and
vexilla. The praetorians stood by the picked men of the Macedonian
phalanx, and with these were all the troops who had escorted the
imperial general hither, and the garrisons of the city of Alexander who
hoped to be called out in the next war.
On the balcony, decorated with statues which surrounded the colonnade
of the Pantheon on which the cupola rested, she saw Caracalla, and at
a respectful distance a superb escort of his friends, in red and white
togas, bordered with purple stripes, and wearing armor. Having taken off
his gold helmet, the imperial general bowed to his people, and at every
nod of his head, and each more vigorous movement, the enthusiastic
cheers were renewed more loudly than ever.
Macrinus then stepped up to Caesar’s side, and the lictors who followed
him, by lowering their fasces, signaled to the warriors to keep silence.
Instantly the ear-splitting din changed to a speechless lull.
At first she still heard the lances and shields, which several of the
warriors had waved in enthusiastic joy, ringing against the ground, and
the clatter of the swords being put back in their sheaths; then this
also ceased, and finally, although only the superior officers had
arrived on horseback, the stamping of hoofs, the snorting of the horses,
and the rattle of the chains at their bits, were the only sounds.
Melissa listened breathlessly, looking first at the square and the
soldiers below, then at the balcony where the emperor stood. In spite
of the aversion she felt, her heart beat quicker. It was as if this
immeasurable army had only one voice; as if an irresistible force drew
all these thousands of eyes toward one point--the one little man up
there on the Pantheon.
Directly he began to speak, Melissa’s glance was also fixed on
Caracalla.
She only heard the closing sentence, as, with raised voice, he shouted
to the soldiers; and from it she gathered that he thanked his companions
in arms for their anxiety, but that he still felt strong enough to share
all their difficulties with them. Severe exertions lay behind them. The
rest in this luxurious city would do them all good. There was still much
to be conquered in the rich East, and to add to what they had already
won, before they could return to Rome to celebrate a well-earned
triumph. The weary should make themselves comfortable here. The wealthy
merchants in whose houses he had quartered them had been told to attend
to their wants, and if they neglected to do so every single warrior
was man enough to show them what a soldier needed for his comfort.
The people here looked askance at him and his soldiers, but too much
moderation would be misplaced.
There certainly were some things even here which the host was not bound
to supply to his military; he, Caesar, would provide them with these,
and for that purpose he had put aside two million denarii out of his own
poverty to distribute among them.
This speech had several times been interrupted by applause, but now such
a tremendous shout of joy went up that it would have drowned the loudest
thunder. The number of voices as well as their power seemed to have
doubled.
Caracalla had added another link to the golden chain which already
bound him to these faithful people; and, as he smiled and nodded to the
delighted crowd from the balcony, he looked like a happy, light-hearted
youth who had prepared a great treat for himself and several beloved
friends.
What he said further was lost in the confusion of voices in the square.
The ranks were broken up, and the cuirasses, helmets, and arms of the
moving warriors caught the sun and sent bright beams of light crossing
one another over the wide space surrounded with dazzling white marble
statues.
When Caracalla left the balcony, Melissa drew back from the window.
The compassionate impulse to lighten the lot of a sufferer, which had
before drawn her so strongly to Caracalla, had now lost its sense and
meaning for this healthy, high-spirited man. She considered herself
cheated, as if she had been fooled by sham suffering into giving
excessively large alms to an artful beggar.
Besides, she loved her native town, and Caracalla’s advice to the
soldiers to force the citizens to provide luxurious living for them,
had made her considerably more rebellious. If he ever put her again in
a position to speak her mind freely to him, she would tell him all
undisguisedly; but instantly it again rushed into her mind that she must
keep guard over her tongue before the easily unchained wrath of this
despot, until her father and brothers were in safety once more.
Before the emperor returned, the room was filled with people, of whom
she knew none, excepting her old friend the white-haired, learned
Samonicus. She was the aim and center of all eyes, and when even the
kindly old man greeted her from a distance, and so contemptuously, that
the blood rushed to her face, she begged Adventus to take her into the
next room.
The Chamberlain did as she wished, but before he left her he whispered
to her: “Innocence is trusting; but it is not of much avail here. Take
care, child! They say there are sand-banks in the Nile which, like soft
pillows, entice one to rest. But if you use them they become alive,
and a crocodile creeps out, with open jaws. I am talking already in
metaphor, like an Alexandrian, but you will understand me.”
Melissa bowed acknowledgment to him, and the old man went on:
“He may perhaps forget you; for many things had accumulated during his
illness. If the mass of business, as it comes in, is not settled for
twenty four hours, it swells like a mill-stream that has the sluice
down. But when work is begun, it quite carries him away. He forgets then
to eat and drink. Ambassadors have arrived also from the Empress-mother,
from Armenia, and Parthia. If he does not ask for you in half an hour,
it will be suppertime, and I will let you out through that door.”
“Do so at once,” begged Melissa, with raised, petitioning hands; but the
old man replied: “I should then reward you but ill for having warmed
my feet for me. Remember the crocodile under the sand! Patience, child!
There is Caesar’s zithern. If you can play, amuse yourself with that.
The door shuts closely and the curtains are thick. My old ears just now
were listening to no purpose.”
But Caracalla was so far from forgetting Melissa that although he had
attended to the communication brought to him by the ambassadors, and the
various dispatches from the senate, he asked for her even at the door
of the tablinum. He had seen her from the balcony looking out on the
square; so she had witnessed the reception his soldiers had given him.
The magnificent spectacle must have impressed her and filled her with
joy. He was anxious to hear all this from her own lips, before he
settled down to work.
Adverntus whispered to him where he had taken her, to avoid the
persecuting glances of the numerous strangers, and Caracalla nodded to
him approvingly and went into the next room.
She sat there with the zithern, letting her fingers glide gently over
the strings.
On his entering, she drew back hastily; but he cried to her brightly:
“Do not disturb yourself. I love that instrument. I am having a statue
erected to Mesomedes, the great zithern-player--you perhaps know his
songs. This evening, when the feast and the press of work are over, I
will hear how you play. I will also playa few airs to you.”
Melissa then plucked up courage and said, decidedly: “No, my lord; I am
about to bid you farewell for to-day.”
“That sounds very determined,” he answered, half surprised and half
amused. “But may I be allowed to know what has made you decide on this
step?”
“There is a great deal of work waiting for you,” she replied, quietly.
“That is my affair, not yours,” was the crushing answer.
“It is also mine,” she said, endeavoring to keep calm; “for you have
not yet completely recovered, and, should you require my help again this
evening, I could not attend to your call.”
“No?” he asked, wrathfully, and his eyelids began to twitch.
“No, my lord; for it would not be seemly in a maiden to visit you by
night, unless you were ill and needed nursing. As it is, I shall meet
your friends--my heart stands still only to think of it--”
“I will teach them what is due to you!” Caracalla bellowed out, and his
brow was knit once more.
“But you can not compel me,” she replied, firmly, “to change my mind
as to what is seemly,” and the courage which failed her if she met a
spider, but which stood by her in serious danger as a faithful ally,
made her perfectly steadfast as she eagerly added: “Not an hour since
you promised me that so long as I remained with you I should need no
other protector, and might count on your gratitude. But those were mere
words, for, when I besought you to grant me some repose, you scorned my
very reasonable request, and roughly ordered me to remain and attend on
you.”
At this Caesar laughed aloud.
“Just so! You are a woman, and like all the rest. You are sweet and
gentle only so long as you have your own way.”
“No, indeed,” cried Melissa, and her eyes filled with tears. “I only
look further than from one hour to the next. If I should sacrifice what
I think right, merely to come and go at my own will, I should soon be
not only miserable myself, but the object of your contempt.”
Overcome by irresistible distress, she broke into loud sobs; but
Caracalla, with a furious stamp of his foot, exclaimed:
“No tears! I can not, I will not see you weep. Can any harm come to you?
Nothing but good; nothing but the best of happiness do I propose for
you. By Apollo and Zeus, that is the truth! Till now you have been
unlike other women, but when you behave like them, you shall--I swear
it--you shall feel which of us two is the stronger!”
He roughly snatched her hand away from her face and thereby achieved his
end, for her indignation at being thus touched by a man’s brutal hand
gave Melissa strength to suppress her sobs. Only her wet cheeks showed
what a flood of tears she had shed, as, almost beside herself with
anger, she exclaimed:
“Let my hand go! Shame on the man who insults a defenseless girl! You
swear! Then I, too, may take an oath, and, by the head of my mother,
you shall never see me again excepting as a corpse, if you ever attempt
violence! You are Caesar--you are the stronger. Who ever doubted it? But
you will never compel me to a vile action, not if you could inflict a
thousand deaths on me instead of one!”
Caracalla, without a word, had released her hand and was staring at her
in amazement.
A woman, and so gentle a woman, defying him as no man would have dared
to do!
She stood before him, her hand raised, her bosom heaving; a flame of
anger sparkled in her eyes through their tears, and he had never before
thought her so fair. What majesty there was in this girl, whose simple
grace had made him more than once address her as “child”! She was like a
queen, an empress; perhaps she might become one. The idea struck him for
the first time. And that little hand which now fell--what soothing power
it had, how much he owed to it! How fervently he had wished but just now
to be understood by her, and to be thought better of by her than by
the rest! And this wish still possessed him. Nay, he was more strongly
attracted than ever to this creature, worthy as she was of the highest
in the land, and made doubly bewitching by her proud willfulness. That
he should see her for the last time seemed to him as impossible as that
he should never again see daylight; and yet her whole aspect announced
that her threat was serious.
His aggrieved pride and offended sense of absolute power struggled with
his love, repentance, and fear of losing her healing presence; but the
struggle was brief, especially as a mass of business to be attended to
lay before him like a steep hill to climb, and haste was imperative.
He went up to her, shaking his head, and said in the superior tone of a
sage rebuking thoughtlessness:
“Like all the rest of them--I repeat it. My demands had no object in
view but to make you happy and derive comfort from you. How hot must the
blood be which boils and foams at the contact of a spark! Only too like
my own; and, since I understand you, I find it easy to forgive you.
Indeed, I must finally express myself grateful; for I was in danger of
neglecting my duties as a sovereign for the sake of pleasing my heart.
Go, then, and rest, while I devote myself to business.”
At this, Melissa forced herself to smile, and said, still somewhat
tearfully: “How grateful I am! And you will not again require me to
remain, will you, when I assure you that it is not fitting?”
“Unluckily, I am not in the habit of yielding to a girl’s whims.”
“I have no whims,” she eagerly declared. “But you will keep your word
now, and allow me to withdraw? I implore you to let me go!”
With a deep sigh and an amount of self-control of which he would
yesterday have thought himself incapable, he let go her hand, and she
with a shudder thought that she had found the answer to the question he
had asked her. His eyes, not his words, had betrayed it; for a woman can
see in a suitor’s look what color his wishes take, while a woman’s eyes
only tell her lover whether or no she reciprocates his feelings.
“I am going,” she said, but he remarked the deadly paleness which
overspread her features, and her colorless cheeks encouraged him in the
belief that, after a sleepless night and the agitations of the last few
hours, it was only physical exhaustion which made Melissa so suddenly
anxious to escape from him. So, saying kindly:
“‘Till to-morrow, then,” he dismissed her.
But when she had almost left the room, he added: “One thing more!
To-morrow we will try our zitherns together. After my bath is the time
I like best for such pleasant things; Adventus will fetch you. I am
curious to hear you play and sing. Of all sounds, that of the human
voice is the sweetest. Even the shouting of my legions is pleasing to
the ear and heart. Do you not think so, and does not the acclamation of
so many thousands stir your soul?”
“Certainly,” she replied hastily; and she longed to reproach him for
the injustice he was doing the populace of Alexandria to benefit his
warriors, but she felt that the time was ill chosen, and everything gave
way to her longing to be gone out of the dreadful man’s sight.
In the next room she met Philostratus, and begged him to conduct her to
the lady Euryale; for all the anterooms were now thronged, and she had
lost the calm confidence in which she had come thither.