venerable hermit should be permitted to approach her. He advanced
towards the royal seat, and, standing on a rock and throwing up to
heaven his shrunken arms, he began with loud cries, "Hear the word of
the Lord God, which He spake by the mouth of Daniel, prophet of the
Most High. I have seen in a vision the things that shall come upon
this land, for its abominations and all its sorceries. Thus saith
the Lord: 'There shall come up against this land a king of kings from
the rising sun, with horses and with horsemen, and he shall set
engines of war against thy walls, and with his axes he shall break
down thy towers. The walls shall shake at the noise of his horsemen
when he shall enter into thy gates. With the hoofs of his horses
shall he tread down all thy streets. He shall slay thy people with
the sword. They shall make a spoil of thy riches, and make a prey of
thy merchandise. They shall break down thy walls and destroy thy
pleasant houses. I will make thee a terror, and thou shalt be no
more.'"
The prophet foamed at the mouth, and paused from sheer exhaustion.
The attendants attempted to seize him. But the empress motioned them
to suffer him to speak. Again he screamed out:
"Thus saith the Lord. I have seen in a vision a great host of men
and horses coming from the setting sun, and I hear the crash of
battle and of fierce slaughter; and all the ground whereon thou now
standest shall be a lake of blood. And the bones of the slain shall
cumber this valley, and its end shall be a land of desolation."
Again he shouted, as his long arm pointed at Theophano:
"Thus saith the Lord. Thou art covered with silk and bedecked with
ornaments. Bracelets are on thy hands and chains on thy neck, jewels
are on thy forehead and ear-rings in thy ears and a beautiful crown
upon thy head. Thou wast exceedingly beautiful, and thou didst
prosper into thy kingdom. But thou didst trust in thy own beauty,
and playedst the harlot because of thy renown, and pourest out thy
fornications on every one that passed by."
The courtiers groaned out their indignation, but Theophano sat
motionless like a statue of Clytemnestra.
"Wherefore, O harlot, hear the word of the Lord. Because thy
filthiness was poured out, and with all the idols of thy
abominations--I will judge thee as women that break wedlock and shed
blood are judged; and I will give thee blood in fury and jealousy.
And they shall strip thee of thy clothes, and shall take thy fair
jewels, and leave thee naked and bare. And they shall stone thee
with stones, and thrust thee through with their swords.
"Thus saith the Lord. Hast thou killed and also taken possession?
In the place where dogs shall lick the blood of him thou shalt slay,
shall dogs lick thy blood, even thine."
These dreadful fragments of biblical imprecation were shrieked forth
by the fanatic in piercing tones, while his weird, inhuman look and
voice thrilled those who heard them, so that they were afraid to
move. Theophano listened in seeming patience, with a look of
disdainful mockery in her face--somewhat distracted within by her own
contempt for the wretched maniac, and lingering desire to hear what
she might of inspired or diabolic presage. But as the violence of
passion had disordered the brain and nerves of the ascetic, he foamed
at the mouth in a fit, and, with violent shrieks and struggles, he
was borne away by the terrified attendants. To the eye of those
around, and even to the searching glances of Leo and Joannes,
Theophano herself was the one person present at this scene who had
borne it throughout with indifference and contempt.
XXIV
Love and Falsehood
By rapid, preconcerted stages, the imperial headquarters was moved on
from Dorylæum and the valley of the Sangarius into that of the upper
Halys, and soon round the salt lake of Tatta to Cæsarea, where a halt
was made. It was practically the military route long before
traversed by Alexander, and so many chiefs of old and new Rome, and
in part by the Crusaders under Walter the Penniless, and Godfrey,
more than a century afterwards, when their bones whitened the plain.
Cæsarea had been refortified and crowded with immense contingents and
vast stores as the grand base of the expedition into Syria. There
Nicephorus held a series of inspections, musters, and reviews. At
many of these Leo the student was present, under the guidance of his
friend, Joannes, and he occupied himself with careful notes as to all
the nations and tribes which he there saw in arms. The musters of
the Charsian, the Armenian, the Cappadocian, and Anatolian themes
were there gathered--and with them contingents from the independent
Armenians, Georgians, Abasgians, and Iberians. Beside them marched
men from Europe, Dalmatian Highlanders, Calabrians, and Beneventan
levies, and a strong force sent from the vassal republics of Venice
and Amalphi, from the lords of Gaeta, and Naples. Here, too, the
emperor rejoined John Tzimisces and his somewhat exhausted force,
which had been for a year engaged with the Saracens on the Syrian
frontier, meeting alternate success and reverse. That army was,
indeed, so much shaken and reduced by its hard service, that
Nicephorus was compelled to leave John at Cæsarea to recruit his men
and to organize the reserves that were to follow as required.
Against this the ardent John protested in his own furious way, but
the Basileus forced him to submit.
From Cæsarea the army prepared to enter an enemy's country, and the
imperial paraphernalia, state tents, baggage and equipment, had been
left behind. Nicephorus was now in active campaigning order. All
the heights and forts commanding the passes of Mount Taurus had been
occupied in strength, and the main army descended into the plains
through the tremendous defiles of the Cilician Gates. This narrow
gorge, cut through the limestone precipices of the range by the
headwaters of the Cydnus, was just such a defile as are those which
we all know to-day in the Alps, having a furious torrent roaring over
huge rocks, crowned by jagged pinnacles, and clothed with pines,
junipers, and cedars. Through these sombre gorges, amid the thunder
of incessant cataracts and rapids from the melted snows, the whole
army poured with ease and safety, for it was summer, and every point
commanding the pass was already defended by a fort amply manned and
provisioned. The passes once surmounted, the whole army was at last
securely concentrated and posted in the broad and teeming valleys of
the Cydnus, the Sarus, and the Pyramus. The whole of this rich
country fell into the hands of the Romans. Anazarba, Adana,
Mopseutia, and twenty strong places, as Leo recounts, were taken by
storm. Placing a strong force to invest Tarsus, Nicephorus pressed
on to Issus. This captured, the road was open at last to Antioch.
The triumphant march of this army corresponded with its numbers,
which Leo seriously placed at the enormous total of four hundred
thousand. They ravaged the country far and wide, driving the
wretched inhabitants before them into the fortified places, or
reducing them by myriads into slavery. Leo the historian gives us a
terrible picture of the campaign and all its horrors. The followers
of the Prophet fought on with courage and obstinacy behind each
fortress; they had neither numbers nor equipment able to meet the
Romans in the field. Famine, pestilence, and the tremendous engines
of the invaders slew the Saracens by thousands. When cities were
taken by storm, all soldiers in arms and still resisting were
butchered; and the civic population, women and children, were
expelled by force, sometimes into captivity, sometimes into exile.
Nicephorus sternly refused conditional terms of capitulation to a
besieged city proposing surrender. "A venomous serpent," said he,
"in the winter season lies torpid--one would think it dead; the
warmth of summer returns, and it is alive and as dangerous as ever.
These inveterate enemies of Christ and of His people must be crushed
once and forever!" So the work of slaughter and extermination went
on till the conquering host had reached the confines of Syria and the
Amanus.
This career of sanguinary triumph was now suddenly arrested by a
cause the truth of which was never allowed to be known, and for which
both in that day and since many different explanations have been
given. It was rumored through the host that the emperor had
countermanded the advance, and gradually the news spread that he
himself was retracing his steps. One night, as Nicephorus had
presided at the storming of a fortress on the coast, and had with
difficulty made an end to the orgy of pillage and slaughter, an
urgent petition was brought to him from an officer of rank, who
pressed for a private interview on a matter of life and death to the
welfare of the empire. Nicephorus bade them admit him to his tent.
It was Joannes, "the Geometer," who had been left with the reserves
at Cæsarea, and had now hastened up to headquarters.
"My gracious sovereign," said John, "let me speak freely of matters
of high treason and your own life. I answer for my truth and loyalty
with my head, which I place in your hands."
"Speak," said Nicephorus.
"John Tzimisces, sire, whom you ordered to remain at the base to
recruit his own army and to reorganize the reserves, has conceived
the most passionate wrath against your order and even against
yourself," said Joannes.
"He broke out upon me with tears, and almost with curses, when I gave
him the order," said Nicephorus; "it is the way of our fiery John.
He will cool down in time."
"Sire, he has not cooled down; he has flamed up more fiercely than
ever; he has been tampering with the loyalty of the troops."
"Your proofs," said the emperor, sternly.
"Sire, I have brought you copies of two missives that have been
secretly passed round the two new battalions of Armenian levies. I
was present myself when Tzimisces reviewed them, and I saw him smile
with joy and without a word when the ranks saluted the commander to
the cry of 'John, our Basileus!' I have been through their camps and
round their watchfires, and I have heard them say, 'Our John has been
betrayed--Nicephorus is jealous of him. Down with Nicephorus--Long
live John!'"
The Basileus listened in silence, read and re-read the circular
appeals. "Ay," he said, to himself, "it is ever so. The new levies
go after a new man--and they ever follow a man of their own tribe.
What is the evidence, my young friend, that John Tzimisces has lent
himself to treachery, or has ceased to be my loyal colleague and
officer?"
"Only this," said Joannes, at last. "Some devoted servants of yours,
sire, watched the quarters of Tzimisces, and one night there was
found a man near it whom we knew to be an emissary from your imperial
retinue. We seized, searched, and, as he resisted with weapons, we
slew him. In a fold of his belt we found this writing. We do not
understand it, nor do we know whence it comes." He handed a slip of
parchment to the emperor.
Nicephorus understood it. He knew whence it came. He knew what it
meant. It was in the Armenian tongue. It was in a handwriting that
he knew well. It ran thus: "_From the prison of Drizibion, one who
has need of thee, and one who can serve thee, calls thee to come at
once, for counsel and for protection._"
Nicephorus was struck dumb with horror and indignation, and hardly
maintained his footing or his senses. But he concealed his spasm of
shame and wrath from his visitor. "We will reflect on this. Keep
absolute silence as to all you know and all that has passed," said
he, slowly. With assumed calm he dismissed Joannes for the night.
When Nicephorus was alone he passed some terrible hours of agony and
despair, turning over in his mind every catastrophe that threatened
the army by a revolt in his rear--and the wickedness of the false
wife for whom he had suffered so much--whom even now it racked him to
believe so cruel and faithless. After hours of a storm of passion
and perplexity he summoned his confidential secretary--and gave
orders for preparation to be made for his own return by forced posts
to Cæsarea at daybreak the next day.
What had happened was this. During the halt at Cæsarea, the emperor,
being his own commander-in-chief and superintending every stage of
the expedition, had been incessantly occupied by his duties and had
little communication of any kind with Theophano. More than once he
had noticed her presence at the inspections and parades held by
Tzimisces, and he had been glad to see her take new interest in the
army, and even admit to her court so gallant a soldier and so true a
friend as the "domestic of the eastern armies." As these visits
became more frequent, Nicephorus resolved to carry on the empress and
her sons, and not to leave them as intended at Cæsarea. Against this
resolution Theophano had vehemently protested, but in vain. But her
indignation was unbounded when, after penetrating a day's march into
the northern defiles of the Taurus, she found that she was to be left
in the rocky fortress of Drizibion. This was a castle of impregnable
strength, perched on a precipitous cliff in the centre of the pass
that led to the Cilician Gates. A stormy interview had passed
between Basileus and Basilissa:
"What!" she said. "Am I, the Augusta, to be a prisoner in this wild
mountain den? Am I to be hidden out of sight, as if it were a
convent of nuns? Are my poor children to be shut up in this dreary
fort, to pine away in exile, perhaps to be murdered?"
"Madam," said the Basileus, gently, and yet with decision, "in such a
campaign as that which is before us, with all its perils, fatigues,
and hardships, it would be cruel to expose a lady and two children to
such a life. When we have conquered a safe and fitting place for you
and the little ones, you will follow. I and my army will not be so
very far. But your safety and that of the young Basileis is my first
care. Here you will be in absolute security, and, indeed, in
luxury--in a place which, in this season, has everything pleasant.
You will have all the retinue you brought hither, and the whole of
your attendants and staff."
"Why was I dragged from Cæsarea?" she asked, with bitterness.
"Cæsarea to-day is a mere camp of exercise. It is no place for the
court of an empress."
"Am I a prisoner?" she asked again.
"You are the wife of the Roman emperor," said Nicephorus, with firm
voice, "and while I live his word shall be law." With this he closed
the interview, and went forth with a weight as a stone upon his heart.
Theophano watched him as he left her with eyes flaming with rage.
From that hour she nursed in her heart plans of implacable revenge.
On the morning of the third day after the dreadful revelations given
him by Joannes, Nicephorus approached the castle of Drizibion. He
had hurried on in front of his escort, almost unattended, travelling
night and day, and torn with contending emotions. Passionate love,
indignation, jealousy, pity, shame, and horror, filled his soul by
turns. Even now he could hardly resolve upon a course of action.
Should he confront Theophano with the evidence of her guilt? Should
he discard her and immure her in a remote convent? Should he seize
and execute Tzimisces? Would the faction of the Basilissa in the
capital raise an insurrection in his absence? Would the army, or
half of it, side with the brilliant and popular Tzimisces? Should
the chiefs of Rome in this death-grapple be fighting each other?
What then would be the issue to the crusade against the Saracens?
What would be the future of the motherless children--of the heirs of
Constantine and Romanus--of the Roman empire itself?
He was still revolving in his mind all these questions when, about
noon, he reached the foot of the outer bulwarks of Drizibion. He
amazed the guard to whom he disclosed himself, and ordered them to
remain silent, as he intended a surprise visit to the empress. He
was told she was now in the garden of the castle with her children.
With a sign to the door-keepers Nicephorus passed in. It was a
lovely spot. Perched five hundred feet above the bottom of a
mountain valley, along which the military road was cut beside the
tumbling waters of the torrent, the garden was shaded with chestnut
and limes and beech trees, adorned with flowers and blossoming
shrubs. It commanded a varied spectacle of jagged pinnacles of
limestone, forests of pines and larches, and in the far distance
peaks of snow. 'Twas a glowing day of summer. Nicephorus paused.
And now he saw his Theophano in all the blaze of her beauty, in her
airy robes of silk gauze, sitting in the shade of a chestnut-tree and
caressing her younger child. Basil, the elder boy, was in his little
uniform of a cataphractic trooper, playing with his toy sword and
slaying the heads of the poppies. The mother gazed on the children
with delight, fondling the weaker one by her side, and watching the
martial spirit of her Basil.
"One day, my darling," she was saying to the elder boy, "they will
let us go away from this dull place, and we will all be back again at
the palace at home, where you shall be treated again as the Roman
Augustus, and your mother will again receive the homage of a
civilized people, and not of these uncouth barbarians, such as you
can see on guard below."
"No, mother," cried the little Basil, "I do not care for civilized
people! I want to lead these splendid fellows in battle. I want to
use a real sword. I want to be with father in the front!"
The mother smiled, much as if she had the soul of an Irene within.
It was a scene of pure beauty, peace, and love. It struck Nicephorus
to the heart with a new flood of pity, of affection, and pride.
Who was he to consign such loveliness and motherly instinct to a cold
convent? Could such grace, such tenderness, be treacherous and
false? Could he blast the young lives of these children by
destroying their home and driving their mother into exile? Still
uncertain what he would do, Nicephorus stepped forward, and stood
before her with a look of profound sadness and reproach.
"My lord, my sovereign, my deliverer," cried Theophano, rushing
forward to her husband when she saw his look of sad and stern
reproof, "you have come to take me away from this prison, this exile,
this wilderness, where I and my babes have lived in sorrow, while you
have been adding fresh glory to your name, and new life to Rome?"
The little Constantine climbed his knee, and the boy Basil pulled his
arm to show his father how many stalks of the enemy he could slash
off with a single blow.
He stood irresolute and confounded. Theophano fell on his neck, and,
weaving her arms round him, she sobbed on his breast, murmuring,
"Take us from this prison."
"Whom did you count on to take you from this prison, to whom did you
write to deliver you?" said Nicephorus.
"To whom but to you--to my sovereign--to my husband," she said,
quickly--"to whom else could I look? You had all the urgent letters,
petitions, messages I despatched to you in the field?" Nicephorus
looked silently and sternly, and said not a word.
"No?" she said, with a gasp; "you did not receive them?" And then
she added, "You did not receive even my last short summons in
Armenian, in the form in which I used to write when I made you
Basileus of Rome?" she said, proudly. "You did not even receive that
love-letter of mine? I thought it might touch you at last."
"Do you mean this?" said he, and took from his bosom the Armenian
script--"'_From the prison of Drizibion, one who has need of thee,
and one mho can serve thee, calls thee to come at once, for counsel
and for protection._'"
"Ah!" she cried in triumph; "then you did have the last, and it
brought you! My lord, my husband, and my consoler!"
And she moved to embrace him again.
"Madam," he said, quietly, "this was sent not to Tarsus, where I was
in the field at the siege, but to Cæsarea, to the camp of reserve."
"Yes! the messenger whom I sent was an attendant of my own; he had
orders, if he could not learn where the emperor was in the field, to
go on to Cæsarea to ascertain from the officers in command where the
emperor could be found. By the Holy Spirit, I swear that he had
strict orders to hand this writing to no one but the Basileus
himself. You see he has done so, and you have come."
"Madam," said Nicephorus, at last, slowly and calmly, "I have come,
and I have come as the result of this very message. But your
messenger did not hand it to me. He died in the execution of his
orders. The parchment was handed to me by the man who killed him,
and who found it in his belt."
A long and terrible silence ensued. At last Nicephorus spoke. "I
have come to take you back to Cæsarea, and to place you there in
safety, till this war is settled, and we can return to the capital.
We will say no more. There is the miserable thing," and, tearing it
to fragments, he flung them over the precipice into the cataract
below.
"Nicephorus," said she, in a voice of intense anxiety and fear, "you
will not slay me--nor mutilate my children--nor put us away in exile?"
He turned from her in stern silence, and now almost with loathing and
scorn. At last the fire of love that consumed him was almost burned
out to its embers.
Having given orders for the guards, retinue, and attendants of the
empress and of her sons to be at once moved down to Cæsarea,
Nicephorus hastened thither in person by forced marches, and
straightway summoned John Tzimisces to his quarters.
Tzimisces came dashing in with that jovial air of hearty
good-fellowship which made him the idol of the army. He was still
chafing under the injury the emperor had done him by ordering him to
remain behind in camp, but he recovered his temper on learning that
Nicephorus now ordered him to start for Tarsus at the front, while
the emperor in person remained at Cæsarea to organize the levies. He
admitted that his Armenians had raised disloyal cries at parade, but
he satisfied the emperor that he, John, had been no party to the
movement. "Examine my staff officers," said Tzimisces, "and see if
you can find a trace of treason on my part against my sovereign, my
chief, my friend. It is true that he cruelly wronged me in keeping
me here like a raw recruit, while he revelled in glory himself. It
was a burning shame, and I have told my own comrades all the
bitterness I feel. But as to plotting treason to overthrow the
Basileus--no! I am not yet come to that! John has a hot temper and
a sharp tongue, and will strike when he is struck, but he is not a
back-stairs conspirator like those eunuchs and cubiculars of the
palace."
"You have had no cubicular at your own quarters?" asked the Basileus.
"What, I?" replied the fiery John. "He would be kicked forth like a
dog if he came to my tent," said John, hotly and frankly.
"You had no missives from Drizibion?" asked Nicephorus.
"From Drizibion?" said John. "What is that? The castle that
commands the pass north of the Cilician Gates? I know not who
commands there, nor what can he want from me. From Drizibion? Who
was stationed there?"
"The Basilissa and her sons," said the emperor, "and all their guards
and retinue."
"What!" said Tzimisces--"the empress at Drizibion? I thought you
carried her and all her retinue across into Cilicia, and kept her
beside you at headquarters." And John looked straight into the eyes
of Nicephorus, with such a genuine face of frankness and truth that
the Basileus now saw that Tzimisces, at any rate, was no party to the
plot--if plot there were--was not guilty of dishonoring his sovereign
and his friend.
Nor was John false, nor as yet at all seduced by the arts of
Theophano. Nicephorus reflected that, according to the story he had
heard, Tzimisces had never received the intercepted missive. There
was no undoubted proof that it was addressed to Tzimisces at all. No
name was written, and Theophano had sworn that it was addressed to
her own husband. Be this as it may, there was no proof that
Tzimisces had anything to do with it, nor that he had, either before
or since, received anything of the kind. No proof; but doubt, gloom,
and despair, lay ever deep down in the inmost soul of Nicephorus
Phocas. At all times he was rarely seen to smile. He never smiled
again in life.
XXV
Love and Troth