A REFUGE IN THE STORM.
"You have the necessary means, I understand," said the physician to
Cleanor, when the two were seated together safe from interruption. "Now
for my plan. The only safe hiding-place will be one of the temples. Now,
there are three temples which would answer our purpose, I mean three
that would be specially suitable on account of the number of private
apartments which are attached to them. There is Æsculapius in the
citadel, Apollo in the arsenal, and Baal Hammon in the Upper City; but
that, of course, you know. On the whole, I am inclined to Apollo in the
arsenal, and I will tell you why. Æsculapius is the strongest place in
Carthage, and it is there that the last stand will be made. There are
some desperate men who will hold on to the last extremity, and perish
rather than surrender. There are some of the old nobles who are too
proud to live under the rule of Rome, and there are the deserters, who
know that pardon is impossible. Hasdrubal himself gives out that he
intends to cast in his lot with them, but I doubt him; he is a cur. Now,
I know as a matter of fact that preparations have been made for holding
Æsculapius as long as possible. And when it becomes impossible, then it
will be destroyed. I know these Carthaginians. Drive them to
extremities, and they will behave as the scorpion between two fires.
Clearly, then, Æsculapius is not the place for non-combatants. Then at
Baal Hammon there are too many priests, and they are a bad lot. That
fellow whom you bribed about the little boy was very useful to you, but
then he is a great scoundrel. In that matter you could trust him,
because he had put his own neck in the noose; but in this you could not.
You see he might easily make double gain out of it--a heavy sum from you
for keeping your friends safe, and another sum for selling them to the
Romans. No, you had better have nothing to do with Baal Hammon and its
crew. Then there remains Apollo in the arsenal. There are only two
priests there. There's the old man, who is almost in his dotage, and the
son, who is a decent fellow with a really excellent wife. He is not
above taking money, but he will not be extortionate. She--poor woman,
she has just lost her only child--would take in your friends out of
pure kindness. Anyhow, she will do her best for them. You had better
leave the matter to me, for the less you are seen the better. Now, what
do you say?"
"I am only too glad," said Cleanor, "to leave the matter in your hands.
How much money will be wanted, do you think?"
"It can hardly be less than two hundred gold pieces," replied the
physician.
"These," said Cleanor, as he produced some rubies and emeralds, with a
rose diamond, small, but of peculiarly brilliant lustre, "have been
valued at a talent[51] by a very good judge. Your friend the priest will
get, if he wishes it, another opinion as to their value, but I feel sure
that the price is not too high. That is what was actually offered me as
a first bid by Raphael, the first jeweller in Alexandria, and, as you
know, a man does not offer his highest price in his first bid."
"A talent!" said the physician, who was himself something of a
connoisseur in precious stones, and had been examining them with obvious
admiration. "A talent, indeed! Unconscionable scoundrel! He ought to
have said three. This diamond alone is worth a talent, and more too.
Well, I will see to the affair at once, for there is no time to be lost.
You stop here, and make yourself at home."
About noon the physician reappeared. "Everything is settled," he said.
"I have saved your diamond for you. It was really too much to give. The
rubies and emeralds were quite sufficient. Mago--that is the younger
priest's name--is a good judge of jewels, and was quite satisfied. You
are to meet him to-night at the upper end of the street where your
friends live, and take him to their house, and introduce him. He will
take the women in charge, and conduct them to the temple. He has the
means of getting them through one of the arsenal gates without any
questions being asked. I am to hand over the price to-morrow, when the
first part of the business shall have been finished. For the rest you
must trust him. Indeed, you have no other choice; but he is not a bad
fellow, and, as I said, his wife is absolutely loyal."
By midnight Theoxena and Daphne were safely lodged in a little chamber
adjoining that occupied by the priest and his wife.
The change was not effected a day too soon. Early on the following
morning the Roman armies were seen to be in motion, and peremptory
orders were issued that the Lower City was to be evacuated. Many of the
inhabitants had anticipated it, and had found such shelter as they could
in the Upper City. But thousands had lingered behind, hoping against
hope that the change might be avoided, or simply paralysed by despair.
Destitute as many of them were, both of means and friends, they stayed
only because it was easier to stay than to move.
Even now some doggedly remained behind. The troops had instructions to
drive them out by force, and they attempted for a time to carry out this
order. But they were met with a passive resistance that baffled them.
Some would not, some could not be stirred from the homes to which they
were accustomed, and which at least afforded them a present shelter.
Still, there was an overpowering rush of panic-stricken fugitives. The
streets leading to the Upper City were crowded up to and beyond the
utmost limit of their capacity. At the gates the press was something
terrible. All night long the human stream flowed ceaselessly on; when
the morning broke it was still dense and strong. Scipio, fully aware
that the helpless crowd would be a source of weakness rather than
strength to the besieged, had strictly forbidden pursuit. But for this
fact, any number might have been killed or captured.
Still, the arsenal itself was not to remain long undisturbed. To abandon
it to the besiegers was to acknowledge that the fall of the whole city
was only a question of time, for this sufficient reason, if for no
other, that no fresh supplies could possibly be introduced. Up to this
time a certain amount of food had been brought in, as we have seen in
the case of the _Sea-mew_. The supply was small and irregular, but it
had been sufficient to replenish the stores of the garrison. Now and
then something had been spared for the wants of the general population.
All this would come to an end when the port fell into the hands of the
enemy.
But Hasdrubal had really no choice. He could not hope to defend the
fortifications of the arsenal with the forces at his command. He had to
concentrate his strength within the smaller compass of the Upper City.
Accordingly, in the night following the abandonment of the Lower City,
the arsenal was evacuated by its garrison. The last detachment to leave
was instructed to set the stores on fire. Nor was this done an hour too
soon. The necessity which constrained the Carthaginian commander to this
course of action had not escaped the notice of Scipio. Lælius, the
ablest of his lieutenants, was making his way into the arsenal--which he
found, somewhat to his surprise, undefended--at the very time when the
garrison was leaving it at the opposite end.
The physician was too busy with his work to pay much attention to
military affairs, and Cleanor having accomplished, as far as was
possible for the present, the purpose for which he had returned to
Carthage, did not risk recognition and capture by venturing out of
doors. It was with surprise, therefore, as well as dismay, that he
learned what had happened. The first thing that he saw on looking out of
his window the following morning was the area of the arsenal swarming
with Roman soldiers. Some were endeavouring, under the direction of
their officers, to quench the flames in the storehouses; not a few, it
was easy to see, were busy in collecting plunder; the Temple of Apollo
was evidently one of the chief objects of attraction.
It was an anxious moment for Cleanor, but if he could have seen what was
going on in the temple, he would almost have despaired of the safety of
Theoxena and her daughter. The fact was that the Roman soldiery, for all
the strictness of discipline to which it had been habituated by Scipio,
was for the time completely out of hand. The siege had been long and
tedious, and the perils, so far, out of all proportion to the prizes.
And now, almost for the first time for three years, these men, starving,
so to speak, for booty, found themselves within reach of what seemed
enormous wealth.
In the centre of the temple stood a figure of Apollo, about double the
size of life. It had the appearance of being of gold; in truth, it was
of wood, covered with massive plates of gold. The throne on which it was
seated, the lattice-work on either side, and the canopy above its head
were of the same metal, and these were absolutely solid. The weight of
the whole was afterwards reckoned at about two hundred and fifty of our
tons. Possibly this was an exaggeration; but the treasure was
unquestionably very large. So large, indeed, was it that the first
impression of the soldiers when they burst into the shrine was that the
whole was of some base metal gilded.
Then the discovery was made. A Roman in mere mischief aimed a blow with
his sword at the trellis-work which surrounded the statue. Picking up
the fragment which he had thus lopped off, more in curiosity than with
any definite expectation of finding treasure, he was astonished by its
weight. Then the truth dawned upon him.
"By Pollux!" he cried, "it must be gold."
The scene which followed was one new to Roman experience. All Rome, it
might almost be said all Italy, hardly contained so much treasure. Since
the day when the soldiers of Alexander burst into the treasury of
Persepolis, and saw what the wealthiest monarchy of the world had been
accumulating for centuries, such a sight had never met human eyes. It
overpowered the solid strength of Roman discipline; with a frantic cry
the men precipitated themselves on the spoil. The centurions, who with
the instinct of command endeavoured to keep them back, were thrust
roughly aside. One of them, who ventured to use the vine cudgel which he
carried by way of enforcing his orders, was levelled to the ground by a
blow of the fist. The tribune in command of the detachment, when he
ventured to interfere, met with no more respect. In less than half an
hour the statue was stripped of its costly covering, and the shrine was
hacked to pieces.
Then the strange passion of destruction, which seems always to follow
close after any great mutinous outbreak, seized upon the men. Possibly
they were carried away by a frantic desire to abolish the very scene of
their offence. Anyhow, the temple was for a few minutes in the most
imminent danger of being burned. A soldier thrust a torch into the fire
which was burning near the great central altar, and threw it all blazing
among the curtains which covered one of the walls.
At this critical moment Scipio himself appeared upon the scene. His
presence seemed to recall the frantic soldiery to themselves. His first
care was to see that the fire was extinguished. With the plunder he did
not at the moment attempt to deal; he reserved that matter for a cooler
moment. It was one of the secrets of his success that he never strained
his power. But order was restored and firmly enforced. A guard was put
in charge of the building. This was to be changed at fixed intervals. It
was to have, meanwhile, its full share of all prize-money that might be
earned on exactly the same scale as actual combatants. After this the
temple and its inmates were as safe as any place or persons could be at
such a time.
FOOTNOTE:
51: An Attic talent, worth, by weight of silver, about £225.