OF THE COMING OF CHARMION; AND OF THE WRATH OF SEPA
That same night, while we sat at supper in the house, there came a knock
upon the door. It was opened, and a woman passed in wrapped from head to
foot in a large dark peplos or cloak in such fashion that her face could
not be clearly seen.
My uncle rose, and as he did so the woman uttered the secret word.
“I am come, my father,” she said in a sweet clear voice, “though of a
truth it was not easy to escape the revels at the palace yonder. But
I told the Queen that the sun and the riot in the streets had made me
sick, and she let me go.”
“It is well,” he answered. “Unveil thyself; here thou art safe.”
With a little sigh of weariness she unclasped the peplos and let it slip
from her, giving to my sight the face and form of that beauteous girl
who had stood to fan Cleopatra in the chariot. For she was very fair
and pleasant to look upon, and her Grecian robes clung sweetly about her
supple limbs and budding form. Her wayward hair, flowing in a hundred
little curls, was bound in with a golden fillet, and on her feet were
sandals fastened with studs of gold. Her cheeks blushed like a flower,
and her dark soft eyes were downcast, as though with modesty, but smiles
and dimples trembled about her lips.
My uncle frowned when his eyes fell upon her dress.
“Why comest thou in this garb, Charmion?” he asked sternly. “Is not the
dress of thy mothers good enough for thee? This is no time or place for
woman’s vanities. Thou art not here to conquer, but to obey.”
“Nay, be not wroth, my father,” she answered softly; “perchance thou
knowest not that she whom I serve will have none of our Egyptian
dress; it is out of fashion. To wear it would have been to court
suspicion--also I came in haste.” And as she spoke I saw that all the
while she watched me covertly through the long lashes which fringed her
modest eyes.
“Well, well,” he said sharply, fixing his keen glance upon her face,
“doubtless thou speakest truth, Charmion. Be ever mindful of thy oath,
girl, and of the cause to which thou art sworn. Be not light-minded, and
I charge thee forget the beauty with which thou hast been cursed. For
mark thou this, Charmion: fail us but one jot, and vengeance shall fall
on thee--the vengeance of man and the vengeance of the Gods! To this
service,” he continued, lashing himself to anger as he went on till his
great voice rang in the narrow room, “thou hast been bred; to this end
thou hast been instructed and placed where thou art to gain the ear of
that wicked wanton whom thou seemest to serve. See thou forget it not;
see that the luxury of yonder Court does not corrupt thy purity and
divert thy aim, Charmion,” and his eyes flashed and his small form
seemed to grow till it attained to dignity--nay, almost to grandeur.
“Charmion,” he went on, advancing towards her with outstretched finger,
“I say that at times I do not trust thee. But two nights gone I dreamed
I saw thee standing in the desert. I saw thee laugh and lift thy hand to
heaven, and from it fell a rain of blood; then the sky sank down on the
land of Khem and covered it. Whence came the dream, girl, and what is
its meaning? I have naught against thee as yet; but hearken! On the
moment that I have, though thou art of my kin, and I have loved thee--on
that moment, I say, I will doom those delicate limbs, which thou lovest
so much to show, to the kite and the jackal, and the soul within thee to
all the tortures of the Gods! Unburied shalt thou lie, and bodiless and
accursed shalt thou wander in Amenti!--ay, for ever and ever!”
He paused, for his sudden burst of passion had spent itself. But by it,
more clearly than before, I saw how deep a heart this man had beneath
the cloak of his merriness and simplicity of mien, and how fiercely the
mind within him was set upon his aim. As for the girl, she shrank from
him terrified, and, placing her hands before her sweet face, began to
weep.
“Nay, speak not so, my father,” she said, between her sobs; “for what
have I done? I know nothing of the evil wandering of thy dreams. I am no
soothsayer that I should read dreams. Have I not carried out all things
according to thy desire? Have I not been ever mindful of that dread
oath?”--and she trembled. “Have I not played the spy and told thee all?
Have I not won the heart of the Queen, so that she loves me as a sister,
refusing me nothing--ay, and the hearts of those about her? Why dost
thou affright me thus with thy words and threats?” and she wept afresh,
looking even more beautiful in her sorrow than she was before.
“Enough, enough,” he answered; “what I have said, I have said. Be
warned, and affront our sight no more with this wanton dress. Thinkest
thou that we would feed our eyes upon those rounded arms--we whose stake
is Egypt and who are dedicated to the Gods of Egypt? Girl, behold thy
cousin and thy King!”
She ceased weeping, wiping her eyes with her chiton, and I saw that they
seemed but the softer for her tears.
“Methinks, most royal Harmachis, and beloved Cousin,” she said, as she
bent before me, “that we are already made acquainted.”
“Yea, Cousin,” I answered, not without shamefacedness, for I had
never before spoken to so fair a maid; “thou wert in the chariot with
Cleopatra this day when I struggled with the Nubian?”
“Assuredly,” she said, with a smile and a sudden lighting of the eyes,
“it was a gallant fight and gallantly didst thou overthrow that black
brute. I saw the fray and, though I knew thee not, I greatly feared for
one so brave. But I paid him for my fright, for it was I who put it
into the mind of Cleopatra to bid the guards strike off his hand--now,
knowing who thou art, I would I had said his head.” And she looked up
shooting a glance at me and then smiled.
“Enough,” put in my uncle Sepa, “the time draws on. Tell thou thy
mission, Charmion, and be gone.”
Then her manner changed; she folded her hands meekly before her and
spoke:
“Let Pharaoh hearken to his handmaiden. I am the daughter of Pharaoh’s
uncle, the brother of his father, who is now long dead, and therefore in
my veins also flows the Royal blood of Egypt. Also I am of the ancient
Faith, and hate these Greeks, and to see thee set upon the throne has
been my dearest hope now for many years. To this end I, Charmion, have
put aside my rank and become serving-woman to Cleopatra, that I might
cut a notch in which thou couldst set thy foot when the hour came for
thee to climb the throne. And, Pharaoh, the notch is cut.
“This then is our plot, royal Cousin. Thou must gain an entrance to the
Household and learn its ways and secrets, and, so far as may be, suborn
the eunuchs and captains, some of whom I have already tempted. This
done, and all things being prepared without, thou must slay Cleopatra,
and, aided by me with those whom I control, in the confusion that shall
ensue, throw wide the gates, and, admitting those of our party who are
in waiting, put such of the troops as remain faithful to the sword and
seize the Bruchium. Which being finished, within two days thou shalt
hold this fickle Alexandria. At the same time those who are sworn to
thee in every city of Egypt shall rise in arms, and in ten days from
the death of Cleopatra thou shalt indeed be Pharaoh. This is the counsel
which has been taken, and thou seest, royal Cousin, that, though our
uncle yonder thinks so ill of me, I have learned my part--ay, and played
it.”
“I hear thee, Cousin,” I answered, marvelling that so young a woman--she
had but twenty years--could weave so bold a plot, for in its origin the
scheme was hers. But in those days I little knew Charmion. “Go on; how
then shall I gain entrance to the palace of Cleopatra?”
“Nay, Cousin, as things are it is easy. Thus: Cleopatra loves to look
upon a man, and--give me pardon--thy face and form are fair. To-day
she noted them, and twice she said she would she had asked where that
astrologer might be found, for she held that an astrologer who could
wellnigh slay a Nubian gladiator with his bare hands, must indeed be a
master of the fortunate stars. I answered her that I would cause inquiry
to be made. So hearken, royal Harmachis. At midday Cleopatra sleeps in
her inner hall which looks over the gardens to the harbour. At that hour
to-morrow, then, I will meet thee at the gates of the palace, whither
thou shalt come boldly asking for the Lady Charmion. I will make
appointment for thee with Cleopatra, so that she shall see thee alone
when she wakes, and the rest shall be for thee, Harmachis. For much she
loves to play with the mysteries of magic, and I have known her stand
whole nights watching the stars and making a pretence to read them. And
but lately she has sent away Dioscorides the physician, because, poor
fool! he ventured on a prophecy from the conjunction of the stars, that
Cassius would defeat Mark Antony. Thereon Cleopatra sent orders to the
General Allienus, bidding him add the legions she had sent to Syria
to help Antony to the army of Cassius, whose victory, forsooth,
was--according to Dioscorides--written on the stars. But, as it chanced,
Antony beat Cassius first and Brutus afterwards, and so Dioscorides has
departed, and now he lectures on herbs in the museum for his bread, and
hates the name of stars. But his place is empty, and thou shalt fill it,
and then we will work in secret and in the shadow of the sceptre. Ay,
we will work like the worm at the heart of a fruit, till the time of
plucking comes, and at thy dagger’s touch, royal Cousin, the fabric of
this Grecian throne crumbles to nothingness, and the worm that rotted it
bursts his servile covering, and, in the sight of empires, spreads his
royal wings o’er Egypt.”
I gazed at this strange girl once more astonished, and saw that her face
was lit up with such a light as I had never seen in the eyes of woman.
“Ah,” broke in my uncle, who was watching her, “ah, I love to see thee
so, girl; there is the Charmion that I knew and I bred up--not the Court
girl whom I like not, draped in silks of Cos and fragrant with essences.
Let thy heart harden in this mould--ay, stamp it with the fervid zeal
of patriot faith, and thy reward shall find thee. And now cover up that
shameless dress of thine and leave us, for it grows late. To-morrow
Harmachis shall come, as thou hast said, and so farewell.”
Charmion bowed her head, and, turning, wrapped her dark-hued peplos
round her. Then, taking my hand, she touched it with her lips and went
without any further word.
“A strange woman!” said Sepa, when she had gone; “a most strange woman,
and an uncertain!”
“Methought, my uncle,” I said, “that thou wast somewhat harsh with her.”
“Ay,” he answered, “but not without a cause. Look thou, Harmachis;
beware of this Charmion. She is too wayward, and, I fear me, may be led
away. In truth, she is a very woman; and, like a restive horse, will
take the path that pleases her. She has brain and fire, and she loves
our cause; but I pray that the cause come not face to face with her
desires, for what her heart is set on that will she do, at any cost she
will do it. Therefore I frightened her now while I may: for who can know
but that she will pass beyond my power? I tell thee, that in this one
girl’s hand lie all our lives: and if she play us false, what then?
Alas! and alas! that we must use such tools as these! But it was
needful: there was no other way; and yet I misdoubted me. I pray that it
may be well; still, at times, I fear my niece Charmion--she is too fair,
and the blood of youth runs too warm in those blue veins of hers.
“Ah, woe to the cause that builds its strength upon a woman’s faith;
for women are faithful only where they love, and when they love their
faithlessness becomes their faith. They are not fixed as men are fixed:
they rise more high and sink more low--they are strong and changeful as
the sea. Harmachis, beware of this Charmion: for, like the ocean, she
may float thee home; or, like the ocean, she may wreck thee, and, with
thee, the hope of Egypt!”