"Don't you hear something?"
Not a soul was in the wood, but the incendiaries, in the roaring of
the wind and the moaning of the cypresses, imagined that they heard
voices.
Aragaris began to run.
"Take me on your shoulders, comrade! You've long legs."
Aragaris halted; Strombix sprang on the shoulders of the Sarmatian
like a squirrel, and they fled away. The little Syrian dug his knees
into his companion's ribs, and put his arms round his neck to avoid
falling. In spite of his fear he laughed and shouted with joy. The
pair gained the open field. Between the clouds, the moon in its last
quarter was shining, and the wind roared harshly. Strombix on the
giant's shoulders seemed an evil spirit riding his victim to hell.
The idea in fact suddenly struck Aragaris that the Demon, in the shape
of a great cat, was hunting him along with his claws to the abyss. The
giant made desperate bounds to shake off his burden. The hair bristled
on his head, and he yelled with terror. The black, double figure of
the pair running, stooped towards the dry, hard earth, over the
withered fields, was silhouetted against the pale horizon.
* * * * *
At the same hour, in his chamber in the palace at Antioch, Julian was
having a secret interview with the prefect Sallustius Secundus--
"Where shall we obtain, well-beloved Cæsar, the necessary food for
such an army?"
"I'll send to Sicily, to Egypt, to Apulia, in all directions where the
harvests are abundant," answered the Emperor. "I can answer for it
that there will be food enough...."
"And money?" asked Sallustius. "Would it not be better to postpone
this campaign till next year? Wait a little?"
Julian strode up and down the room. Suddenly he halted before the
other man.
"Wait!" he exclaimed angrily. "One would say the word was a kind of
pass-word, it is repeated to me so often!... Wait? As if it were
possible to wait now, to weigh, vacillate, hesitate! Are the Galileans
waiting? Understand, Senator, I must achieve the impossible; I must
return from Persia great and terrible ... or not return at all. No
more conciliations, or half measures, are possible!... Why speak of
reason? Did the Macedonian Alexander conquer the world by reason--the
beardless young man who, with a mere handful of soldiers, went to
fight the monarchs of Asia? Was he not mad, in the sight of reasonable
men like you? What gave him victory?"
"I do not know," responded the prefect evasively. "I suppose the
valour of the hero...."
"No," exclaimed Julian. "The gods! Understand, Sallustius, the
Olympians can grant me the same grace, and a greater still, if it
please them. I will cross the world from east to west, like the great
Macedonian, like the god Dionysus. When I come back victorious from
Asia we shall see what the Christians have to say, whether they will
mock at the sword of the Roman Emperor as they mock at the plain robe
of the philosopher."
His eyes seemed glittering with madness; and Sallustius, seeing that
further objection was useless, said nothing. But when Julian began to
walk up and down, the prefect shook his head and deep pity was
expressed in the kindly gaze of the old man.
"The army must be ready to march," continued Julian. "I desire it, do
you hear? I will have no excuses nor delays. Arsaces, the Armenian
king, has promised help. There is bread. What more is lacking? I must
know that I can at any moment set out against the Persians. On this
depends not only my glory, but the safety of the Roman Empire and the
victory of the gods against the Galileans!..."
The warm wind, blowing into the chamber, agitated the three flames of
the lampadary. A shooting-star scored the dark blue night-sky and
vanished. Julian saw it, and was strangely thrilled.
Outside the door voices were heard. Someone knocked.
"Who is there? Come in!" said the Emperor.
They were his philosopher friends. Libanius, at their head, seemed
more emphatic and sullen than usual.
"What is your desire?" asked Julian coldly.