The absence of Imogen was not long in being discovered at Court. The
Queen secretly rejoiced, for she hoped that Imogen had either killed
herself in despair, or gone to rejoin her husband, in which latter
case she would be too deeply dishonoured ever to return. Either of
these would forward the Queen’s aim, for Imogen being disposed of, she
would have the placing of the British crown.
Cymbeline was so enraged at his daughter’s disappearance that no one
dared go near him. But Cloten, meeting Pisanio as he returned to
the palace, forced from him the letter which Leonatus had written
to Imogen, telling her to meet him at Milford Haven. This put into
Cloten’s boorish head a brilliant scheme of revenge. He had not
forgotten Imogen’s disdainful taunt that she held in more respect
“the meanest garment” of Leonatus than the noble person of Cloten,
together with the adornment of his qualities. Cloten now procured from
Pisanio a suit of clothes that had belonged to Leonatus. He intended
to dress himself in these, and to go in pursuit of Imogen. He reckoned
on finding her at Milford Haven with her husband, where he promised
himself the pleasure of slaying Leonatus in front of her eyes, in
the very garments she had seen fit to honour so much, after which he
intended to drive Imogen back to Court with the roughest and most
insulting treatment he could devise.
Such was the alluring plan which presented itself to the brain of this
amiable creature, but the reality did not happen quite in accordance
with the design he had sketched.
Following in the track of Imogen, he managed to trace her to the cave
which now sheltered her. There, happening to fall in with Belarius
and the two young Princes, Cloten at once began his usual style of
bullying insult. Recognising him for the Queen’s son, and fearing some
ambush which threatened danger to them, Belarius and Arviragus started
to search for any enemies that might be hidden near, leaving the
elder lad to deal with the intruder. The haughty spirit of Guiderius
was certainly not framed to brook the uncalled-for insolence of this
blusterer, and when Cloten addressed him as “a robber, a law breaker,
a villain,” and bade him “Yield thee, thief!” Guiderius retorted with
equal scorn.
“Hence,” he said disdainfully, “thou art some fool; I am loath to beat
thee.”
“Thou injurious thief, hear but my name, and tremble,” cried the silly
youth.
“What’s thy name?”
“Cloten, thou villain.”
“Cloten, thou double villain, be thy name, I cannot tremble at it,”
said Guiderius contemptuously. “Were it Toad, or Adder, or Spider, it
would move me sooner.”
“To thy further fear--nay, to thy utter confusion--thou shalt know I
am son to the Queen,” said Cloten braggingly.
“I am sorry for it, not seeming so worthy as thy birth.”
“Art not afraid?” demanded Cloten.
“Those that I reverence, those I fear--the wise,” answered Guiderius.
“At fools I laugh, not fear them.”
“Die the death!” cried Cloten, springing at him. “When I have slain
thee with my own hand, I’ll follow those that even now fled hence, and
on the gates of Lud’s town set your heads. Yield, rustic mountaineer.”
But the “rustic mountaineer” had no intention of yielding, and it was
the head of the foolish Cloten that presently paid the penalty for its
owner’s blustering insolence.
* * * * *
Safe in the love and protection of her unknown brothers, Imogen had
lived for some few days in their cave, making bright the rude dwelling
with little womanly graces. Her new friends had taken her straight
to their hearts, and in especial Arviragus, the younger Prince, felt
for this stranger a deep attachment which he was unable to explain.
But all united in praise of Fidele. Belarius noted his noble bearing
and gracious manners, which spoke of good breeding. “How angel-like he
sings!” put in Arviragus; and Guiderius commended the daintiness of
his cooking, which served dishes fit for the banquet of some goddess.
[Illustration: “Thou thy worldly task hast done.”]
But there came a day when Imogen could not attend as usual to her
little household duties; she was very ill. Belarius bade her remain in
the cave, and said they would come back to her after their hunting.
Guiderius offered to remain at home with her, but Imogen would not
hear of it. So, with many parting words of affection at last they
left her. Remembering the little box of drugs that Pisanio had given
her as a wonderful cordial, Imogen now resolved to try its power.
But instead of curing her at once, the effect, as the good physician
Cornelius had foreseen, was to send her off into a heavy sleep which
seemed exactly like death.
On their return from hunting, Arviragus, running into the cave to look
for Imogen, found her lying on the floor, her hands clasped, her right
cheek reposing on a cushion. Thinking her asleep, Arviragus took off
his rough brogues, in order that he might tread softly. But alas, he
soon found that no step or voice could awaken Fidele from the smiling
slumber in which he lay.
Stricken with grief, the two Princes prepared a bier to carry their
dear young comrade to the place of burial, Arviragus saying that while
summer lasted, and as long as he lived near, he would sweeten the sad
grave with fairest flowers.
Then, as they bore him on the bier, they spoke in turn a tender dirge,
for their hearts were too full of grief to allow them to sing it.
“Fear no more the heat o’ the sun,
Nor the furious winter’s rages;
Thou thy worldly task hast done,
Home art gone, and ta’en thy wages:
Golden lads and girls all must,
As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.
“Fear no more the frown o’ the great;
Thou art past the tyrant’s stroke;
Care no more to clothe and eat;
To thee the reed is as the oak;
The sceptre, learning, physic, must
All follow this, and come to dust.
“Fear no more the lightning flash,
Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone,
Fear not slander, censure rash,
Thou hast finished joy and moan:
All lovers young, all lovers must
Consign to thee, and come to dust.
“No exorciser harm thee!
Nor no witchcraft charm thee
Ghost unlaid forbear thee!
Nothing ill come near thee!
Quiet consummation have;
And renowned be thy grave!”
Grief for the loss of Imogen had for a moment caused the death of
Cloten to be forgotten; but Belarius reminded the young Princes that,
after all, he was a Queen’s son, and though they had killed him
as a foe, they must bury him as a Prince. Fetching the dead body,
therefore, they placed it not far from the bier where Imogen lay, and
strewed both with flowers.
Soon after the mourners had retired, Imogen woke from the sleep into
which the drug had thrown her. As she recovered her dazed senses,
she presently became aware that near at hand lay a dead man, and
recognising the garments of Leonatus, she at once took for granted
that it was indeed her husband who had been thus cruelly slain. Struck
to the heart by this new sorrow, she flung herself half fainting
on the body, and there soon afterwards she was found by the Roman
General, Lucius. Pitying her desolate condition, for he thought this
lad in his page’s dress was weeping over his dead master, Lucius took
Imogen into his own service.
On hearing of Cymbeline’s refusal to pay tribute, the Roman Emperor
lost no time in sending over an army to enforce his demand. The rival
forces met near Milford Haven, not far from the cave of Belarius.
Hearing the noise of warfare, Belarius first suggested flight to the
upper mountains for better security, but the noble spirit of the
two young Princes scorned such cowardly counsel, and they boldly
determined to throw in their lot with the British in fighting the
enemy of their country.
Leonatus also at this crisis had returned from Rome, and, disguised
as a poor soldier, he fought in the ranks of the British. Meeting
Iachimo, who was commanding the Roman troops, Leonatus fought with
him on the battle-field and vanquished him. The proud Roman was
deeply mortified that a noble knight like himself should be overcome
and disarmed by one whom he imagined to be a low churl. Repentance
for the base way in which he had behaved to Imogen stirred in his
heart; he thought it was the guilt and heaviness of his own soul that
in this combat had unnerved his manhood and enfeebled his arm. As
for Leonatus, he fought in reckless despair, his grief for Imogen’s
murder, which he believed Pisanio to have carried out, making him long
for the death which seemed to shun him.
The valour of Guiderius and Arviragus had soon an opportunity of
displaying itself. The British, sorely bested, were in act of flight,
and Cymbeline had been captured by the Romans, when Belarius and the
two Princes went to his assistance, and with the aid of Leonatus
succeeded in rescuing the King. By their desperate courage they drove
back the flying Britons, and forced them to rally and resist the foe,
and finally achieve a brilliant victory.
After the skirmish, some British soldiers coming across Leonatus,
took him for a fugitive from the Romans, and put him into prison.
Leonatus was ready to welcome bondage, for it was a way, as he looked
at it, to liberty. Death was the key that would unbar those locks; his
conscience was more heavily fettered than his limbs. It was not enough
to be sorry; he longed to die. For Imogen’s dear life, which he had
stolen from her, he would gladly yield up his own.
When, therefore, the gaolers came the following morning to lead him
forth to death, Leonatus told them he was more than ready--he was
merrier to die than they to live. Another messenger arriving with an
order that his fetters were to be knocked off, and that he was to be
conducted to the King. Leonatus followed him willingly, believing that
at last the moment for death had come.
Cymbeline was seated in his tent, and at his side stood his three
preservers--the aged warrior, with white flowing beard, and the two
gallant striplings. A fourth was missing, and Cymbeline lamented for
him--a poor soldier, he said, who fought so nobly that his rags shamed
gilded arms. Anyone who found him should receive the highest favour
from the King. No one could give tidings of this hero, but Cymbeline
proceeded to confer the honour of knighthood on the three other
champions, and to appoint them companions to his own person, with
dignities becoming their estate.
At this moment there came an interruption,--Cornelius, the physician,
entered; he brought the news that the wicked Queen’s life was ended,
and that before her death she had confessed all her villainy--her
duplicity towards Imogen, and her intention of poisoning both her
and Cymbeline, in order to secure the crown for her own son. The
strange disappearance of Cloten, for whose sake she had wrought so
much evil, and the consequent failure of all her schemes, made her
grow desperate, and so in despair she died. Cymbeline could not but be
moved by the account of this unsuspected treachery on the part of his
wife, for she was as beautiful in person as she was wicked in mind,
and he had been quite deceived by her. His thoughts now began to turn
with tenderness to the innocent daughter whom he had treated with such
unjust severity.
Lucius, the Roman General, was next led as prisoner before the King.
He was ready to accept with manly dignity the doom of death which he
presumed would be meted out to him, but he petitioned as a last favour
that the life of his little page might be spared.
“Never master had a page so kind, so duteous, diligent, so tender
on occasion, so deft and careful,” pleaded Lucius. “He hath done no
Briton harm, though he hath served a Roman. Save him, sir, and spare
no blood beside.”
Lucius’s generous plea was scarcely needed, for Cymbeline, touched by
some deep feeling which he could not explain, had already been won
over to the boy’s side, and now not only granted him his life, but
said he might ask what favour he chose, even if it were to demand the
noblest prisoner taken.
Lucius naturally expected that Fidele would take this opportunity to
beg for his master’s life, but Imogen had seen Iachimo standing among
the other prisoners, and noticing on his finger the diamond ring
which she had given to Leonatus, she begged as her favour of the King
that Iachimo should be bidden to say of whom he had received the ring.
Iachimo, who had long bitterly repented of his unworthy deed, now
made a true confession of all that had happened, lavishing praise
on Leonatus and his peerless wife, and heaping all the blame upon
himself. Leonatus, who had been standing in the background, unable to
contain himself when he heard how cruelly he had been tricked, would
gladly have killed Iachimo on the spot, and then died, himself, with
grief and shame.
“O Imogen! My queen, my life, my wife!” he cried, frantic with despair
at the tragedy he had himself wrought. “O Imogen, Imogen, Imogen!”
But, happily, the calamity was not past remedy. Imogen herself was
at hand, and soon everything was put right. Belarius restored to
Cymbeline the two boys stolen in infancy, and in the joy of finding
them again, Cymbeline pardoned the offender.
“I lost my children,” he said; “if these be they, I know not how to
wish a pair of worthier sons.”
The young Princes welcomed with rapture their dear young comrade
Fidele, whom they had mourned as dead, and who was now given back to
them as their own beloved sister.
To Caius Lucius, the Roman General, Cymbeline, with royal generosity,
announced that though the victor, he would henceforth pay to Augustus
Cæsar the rightful tribute he demanded, which his wicked Queen had
dissuaded him from doing.
The poor soldier whom Cymbeline was desirous of thanking turned out to
be no other than Leonatus, his own son-in-law.
Even Iachimo met with mercy. In deep contrition he knelt before
Leonatus, saying humbly:
“Take that life, I beseech you, which I owe you; but your ring first;
and here the bracelet of the truest Princess that ever swore her
faith.”
“Kneel not to me,” said Leonatus. “The power that I have over you is
to spare you; the malice towards you, to forgive you; live, and deal
with others better.”
“Nobly doomed!” pronounced Cymbeline. “We will learn generosity of our
son-in-law. Pardon’s the word to all.”
[Illustration]