The mysterious old sage had no sooner left the judgment-hall with the
Vekeel than he begged for a private interview. Obada did not hesitate to
turn the keeper of the prison, with his wife and infant, out of his room,
and there he listened while Horapollo informed him of the fate to which
he destined the condemned girl. The old man's scheme certainly found
favor with the Negro; still, it seemed to him in many respects so daring
that, but for an equivalent service which Horapollo was in a position to
offer Obada, he would scarcely have succeeded in obtaining his consent.
All the Vekeel aimed at was to make it very certain that Orion had had a
hand in the flight of the nuns, and chance had placed a document in the
old man's hands which seemed to set this beyond a doubt.
He had effected his removal to the widow's dwelling in the cool hours of
early morning. He had taken with him, in the first instance, only the
most valuable and important of his manuscripts, and as he was placing
these in a small desk--the very same which Rufinus had left for Paula's
use--Horapollo found in it the note which the youth had hastily written
when, after waiting in vain for Paula as she sat with little Mary, he had
at last been obliged to depart and take leave of Amru. This wax-tablet,
on which the writing was much defaced and partly illegible, could not
fail to convince the judges of Orion's guilt, and the production of this
piece of evidence enabled the old man to extort Obada's consent to his
proposal as to the mode of Paula's death. When they finally left the
warder's room, the Negro once more turned to the keeper of the prison and
told him with a snort, as he pointed to his pretty wife and the child at
her breast, that they should all three die if he allowed Orion to quit
his cell for so much as an instant.
He then swung himself on to his horse, while Horapollo rode off to the
Curia to desire the president of the council to call a meeting for that
evening; then he betook himself to his new quarters.
There he found his room carefully shaded, and as cool as was possible in
such heat. The floor had been sprinkled with water, flowers stood
wherever there was room for them, and all his properties in scrolls and
other matters had found places in chests or on shelves. There was not a
speck of dust to be seen, and a sweet pervading perfume greeted his
sensitive nostrils.
What a good exchange he had made! He rubbed his withered hands with
satisfaction as he seated himself in his accustomed chair, and when Mary
came to call him to dinner, it was a pleasure to him to jest with her.
Pulcheria must lead him through the viridarium into the dining-room; he
enjoyed his meal, and his cross, wrinkled old face lighted up amazingly
as he glanced round at his feminine associates; only Eudoxia was absent,
confined to her room by some slight ailment. He had something pleasant
to say to each; he frankly compared his former circumstances with his
present position, without disguising his heartfelt thankfulness; then,
with a merry glance at Pulcheria, he described how delightful it would be
when Philippus should come home to make the party complete--a true and
perfect star: for every Egyptian star must have five rays. The ancients
had never painted one otherwise nor graven it in stone; nay, they had
used it as the symbol for the number five.
At this Mary exclaimed: "But then I hope--I hope we shall make a six-
rayed star; for by that time poor Paula may be with us again!"
"God grant it!" sighed Dame Joanna. Pulcheria, however, asked the old
man what was wrong with him, for his face had suddenly clouded. His
cheerfulness had vanished, his tufted eyebrows were raised, and his
pinched lips seemed unwilling to part, when at length he reluctantly
said:
"Nothing--nothing is wrong... At the same time; once for all--I loathe
that name."
"Paula?" cried the child in astonishment. "Oh! but if you knew. . ."
"I know more than enough," interrupted the old man. "I love you all--
all; my old heart expands as I sit in your midst; I am comfortable here,
I feel kindly towards you, I am grateful to you; every little attention
you show me does me good; for it comes from your hearts: if I could repay
you soon and abundantly--I should grow young again with joy. You may
believe me, as I can see indeed that you do. And yet," and again his
brows went up, "and yet, when I hear that name, and when you try to win
me over to that woman, or if you should even go so far as to assail my
ears with her praises--then, much as it would grieve me, I would go back
again to the place where I came from."
"Why, Horapollo, what are you saying?" cried Joanna, much distressed.
"I say," the old man went on, "I say that in her everything is
concentrated which I most hate and contemn in her class. I say that she
bears in her bosom a cold and treacherous heart; that she blights my days
and my nights; in short, that I would rather be condemned to live under
the same roof with clammy reptiles and cold-blooded snakes than. . ."
"Than with her, with Paula?" Mary broke in. The eager little thing
sprang to her feet, her eyes flashed lightnings and her voice quivered
with rage, as she exclaimed: "And you not only say it but mean it? Is it
possible?"
"Not only possible, but positive, sweetheart," replied the old man,
putting out his hand to take hers, but she shrank back, exclaiming
vehemently:
"I will not be your sweetheart, if you speak so of her! A man as old as
you are ought to be just. You do not know her at all, and what you say
about her heart. . ."
"Gently, gently, child," the widow put in; and Horapollo answered with
peculiar emphasis.
"That heart, my little whirlwind!--it would be well for us all if we
could forget it, forget it for good or for evil. She has been tried
to-day, and that heart is sentenced to cease beating."
"Sentenced! Merciful Heaven!" shrieked Pulcheria, and as she started up
her mother cried out:
"For God's sake do not jest about such things, it is a sin.--Is it true?
--Is it possible? Those wretches, those... I see in your face it is
true; they have condemned Paula."
"As you say," replied Horapollo calmly. "The girl is to be executed."
"And you only tell us now?" wept Pulcheria, while Mary broke out:
"And yet you have been able to jest and laugh, and you--I hate you! And
if you were not such a helpless, old, old man. . ." But here Joanna
again silenced the child, and she asked between her sobs:
"Executed?--Will they cut off her head? And is there no mercy for her
who was as far away from that luckless fight as we were--for her, a girl,
and the daughter of Thomas?"
To which the old man replied:
"Wait a while, only wait! Heaven has perhaps chosen her for great ends.
She may be destined to save a whole country and nation from destruction
by her death. It is even possible. . ."
"Speak out plainly; you make me shudder with your oracular hints," cried
the widow; but he only shrugged his shoulders and said coolly:
"What we foresee is not yet known. Heaven alone can decide in such a
case. It will be well for us all--for me, for her, for Pulcheria, and
even our absent Philip, if the divinity selects her as its instrument.
But who can see into darkness? If it is any comfort to you, Joanna,
I can inform you that the soft-hearted Kadi and his Arab colleagues,
out of sheer hatred of the Vekeel, who is immeasurably their superior
in talent and strength of will, will do everything in their power..."
"To save her?" exclaimed the widow.
"To-morrow they will hold council and decide whether to send a messenger
to Medina to implore pardon for her," Horapollo went on with a horrible
smile. "The day after they will discuss who the messenger is to be, and
before he can reach Arabia fate will have overtaken the prisoner. The
Vekeel Obada moves faster than they do, and the power lies in his hands
so long as Amru is absent from Egypt. He, they say, perfectly dotes on
the Mukaukas' son, and for his sake--who knows? Paula as his betrothed."
"His betrothed?"
"He called her by that name before the judges, and congratulated himself
on his promised bride."
"Paula and Orion!" cried Pulcheria, jubilant in the midst of her tears,
and clapping her hands for joy.
"A pair indeed!" said the old man. "You may well rejoice, my girl!
Feeble hearts as you all are, respect the experience of the aged, and
bless Fate if it should lame the horse of the Kadi's messenger!--However,
you will not listen to anything oracular, so it will be better to talk of
something else."
"No, no," cried Joanna. "What can we think of but her and her fate?
Oh, Horapollo, I do not know you in this mood. What has that poor soul
done to you, persecuted as she is by the hardest fate--that noble
creature who is so dear to us all? And do you forget that the judges who
have sentenced her will now proceed to enquire what Rufinus, and we all
of us. . ."
"What you had to do with that mad scheme of rescue?" interrupted
Horapollo. "I will make it my business to prevent that. So long as this
old brain is able to think, and this mouth to speak, not a hair of your
heads shall be hurt."
"We are grateful to you," said Joanna. "But, if you have such power,
set to work--you know how dear Paula is to us all, how highly your friend
Philip esteems her--use your power to save her."
"I have no power, and refuse to have any," retorted the old man harshly."
"But Horapollo, Horapollo!--Come here, children!--We were to find in you
a second father--so you promised. Then prove that those were no empty
words, and be entreated by us."
The old man drew a deep breath; he rose to his feet with such vigor as he
could command, a bright, sharply-defined patch of color tinged each pale
cheek, and he exclaimed in husky tones:
"Not another word! No attempt to move me, not a cry of lamentation!
Enough, and a thousand times too much, of that already. You have heard
me, and I now say again--me or Paula, Paula or me. Come what may in the
future, if you cannot so far control yourselves as never to mention her
in my presence, I--no, I do not swear, but when I have said a thing I
keep to it--I will go back to my old den and drag out life the richer
by a disappointment--or die, as my ruling goddess shall please."
With this he left the room, and little Mary raised her clenched right
fist and shook it after him, exclaiming: "Then let him go, hard-hearted,
unjust, old scarecrow! Oh, if only I were a man!" And she burst out
crying aloud. Heedless of the widow's reproof, she went on quite beside
herself: "Oh, there is no one more wicked than he is, Dame Joanna! He
wants to see her die, he wishes her to be dead; I know it, he even wishes
it! Did you hear him, Pul, he would be glad if the messenger's horse
went lame before he could save her? And now she is my Orion's betrothed
--I always meant them for each other--and they want to kill him, too, but
they shall not, if there is still a God of justice in heaven! Oh if I--
if I. . ." Her voice failed her, choked with sobs. When she had
somewhat recovered she implored Pulcheria and her mother to take her to
see Paula, and as they shared her wish they prepared to start for the
prison before it should grow dark.
The nearer they went to the market-place, which they must cross, the more
crowded were the streets. Every one was going the same way; the throng
almost carried the women with it; yet, from the market came, as it were,
a contrary torrent of shouts and shrieks from a myriad of human throats.
Dame Joanna was terrified in the press by the uproarious doings in the
market, and she would gladly have turned back with the girls, or have
made her way through by-streets, but the tide bore her on, and it would
have been easier to swim against a swollen mountain stream than to return
home. Thus they soon reached the square, but there they were brought to
a standstill in the crush.
The widow's terrors now increased. It was dreadful to be kept fast with
the young people in such a mob. Pulcheria clung closely to her, and when
she bid Mary take her hand the child, who thoroughly enjoyed the
adventure, exclaimed: "Only look, Mother Joanna, there is our Rustem. He
is taller than any one."
"If only he were by our side!" sighed the widow. At this the little
girl snatched away her hand, made her way with the nimbleness of a
squirrel through the mass of men, and soon had reached the Masdakite.
Rustem had not yet quitted Memphis, for the first caravan, which he and
his little wife were to join, was not to start for a few days. The
worthy Persian and Mary were very good friends; as soon as he heard that
his benefactress was alarmed he pushed his way to her, with the child,
and the widow breathed more freely when he offered to remain near her and
protect her.
Meanwhile the yelling and shouting were louder than ever. Every face,
every eye was turned to the Curia, in the evident expectation of
something great and strange taking place there.
"What is it?" asked Mary, pulling at Rustem's coat. The giant said
nothing, but he stooped, and to her delight, a moment later she had her
feet on his arms, which he folded across his chest, and was settling
herself on his broad shoulder whence she could survey men and things as
from a tower. Joanna laid her hand in some tremor on the child's little
feet, but Mary called down to her: "Mother--Pulcheria--I am quite sure
our old Horapollo's white ass is standing in front of the Curia, and they
are putting a garland round the beast's neck--a garland of olive."
At this moment the blare of a tuba rang out from the Senate-house
across the square, through the suffocatingly hot, quivering air; a sudden
silence fell and spread till, when a man opened his mouth to shout or to
speak, a neighbor gave him a shove and bid him hold his tongue. At this
the widow held Mary's ankles more tightly, asking, while she wiped the
drops from her brow:
"What is going on?" and the child answered quickly, never taking her
eyes off the scene:
"Look, look up at the balcony of the Curia; there stands the chief of the
Senate--Alexander the dyer of purple--he often used to come to see my
grandfather, and grandmother could not bear his wife. And by his side--
do you not see who the man is close by him?
"It is old Horapollo. He is taking the laurel-crown off his wig!--
Alexander is going to speak."
She was interrupted by another trumpet call, and immediately after a
loud, manly voice was heard from the Curia, while the silence was so
profound that even the widow and her daughter lost very little of the
speech which followed:
"Fellow-citizens, Memphites, and comrades in misfortune," the president
began in slow, ringing tones, "you know what the sufferings are which we
all share. There is not a woe that has not befallen us, and even worse
loom before us."
The crowd expressed their agreement by a fearful outcry, but they were
reduced to silence by the sound of the tuba, and the speaker went on:
"We, the Senate, the fathers of the city, whom you have entrusted with
the care of your persons and your welfare. . ."
At this point he was interrupted by wild yells, and cries could be
distinguished of: "Then take care of us--do your duty!"
"Money bags!"
"Keep your pledge!"
"Save us from destruction!"
The trumpet call, however, again silenced them, and the speaker went on,
almost beside himself with vehement excitement.
"Hearken! Do not interrupt me! The dearth and misery fall on our heads
as much as on yours. My own wife and son died of the plague last night!"
At this only a low murmur ran through the crowd, and it died away of its
own accord as the dignified old man on the balcony wiped his eyes and
went on:
"If there is a single man among you who can prove us guilty of neglect--a
man, woman, or child--let him accuse us before God, before our new ruler
the Khaliff, and yourselves, the citizens of Memphis; but not now,
my fellow-sufferers, not now! At this time cease your cries and
lamentations; now when rescue is in sight. Listen to me, and let us know
what you feel with regard to the last and uttermost means of deliverance
which I now come to propose to you."
"Silence! Hear him! Down with the noisy ones!" was heard on all
sides, and the orator went on:
"We, as Christians, in the first instance addressed ourselves to our
Father in Heaven, to our one and only divine Redeemer, and to His Holy
Church to aid us; and I ask you: Has there been any lack of prayers,
processions, pilgrimages, and pious gifts? No, no, my beloved fellow-
citizens! Each one be my witness--certainly not! But Heaven has
remained blind and deaf and dumb in sight of our need, yea as though
paralyzed. And yet no; not indeed paralyzed, for it has been powerful
and swift to move only to heap new woes upon us. Not a thing that human
foresight and prudence could devise or execute has remained untried.
"The time-honored arts of the magicians, sorcerers, and diviners, which
aforetime have often availed to break the powers of evil spirits, have
proved no less delusive and ineffectual. So then we remembered our
glorious forefathers and ancestors, and we recollected that a man lives
in our midst who knew many things which we others have lost sight of in
the lapse of years. He has made the wisdom of our forefathers his own in
the course of a long life of laborious days and nights. He has the key
to the writing and the secrets of the ancients, and he has communicated
to us the means of deliverance to which they resorted, when they suffered
from such afflictions as have befallen us in these dreadful days; and
this venerable man at my side, the wise and truthful Horapollo, will
acquaint us with it. You see the antique scrolls in his hand: They
teach us the wonders it wrought in times past."
"Here the speaker was interrupted by a cry of: "Hail Horapollo, the
Deliverer!" and thousands took it up and expressed their satisfaction
and gratitude by loud shouting.
The old man bowed modestly, pointed to his narrow chest and toothless
mouth and then to the head of the Council as the man who had undertaken
to transmit his opinion to the populace; so Alexander went on:
"Great favors, my friends and fellow-citizens, must be purchased by great
gifts. The ancients knew this, and when the river--on which, as we know
only too well, the weal or woe of this land solely depends--refused to
rise, and its low ebb brought evils of many kinds upon its banks, they
offered in sacrifice the thing they deemed most noble of all the earth
has to show a pure and beautiful maiden.
"It is just as we expected: you are horrified! I hear your murmur, I see
your horror-stricken faces; how can a Christian fail to be shocked at the
thought of such a victim? But is it indeed so extraordinary? Have we
ever wholly given up everything of the kind? Which of us does not
entreat Saint Orion, either at home or under the guidance of the priests
in church, whenever he craves a gift from our splendid river; and this
very year as usual, on the Night of Dropping, did we not cast into the
waters a little box containing a human finger.
[So late as in the XIV. century after Christ the Egyptian Christians
still threw a small casket containing a human finger into the Nile
to induce it to rise. This is confirmed by the trustworthy
Makrizi.]
"This lesser offering takes the place of the greater and more precious
sacrifice of the heathen; it has been offered, and its necessity has
never at any time been questioned; even the severest and holiest
luminaries of the Church--Antonius and Athanasius, Theophilus and
Cyrillus had nothing to say against it, and year after year it has been
thrown into the waters under their very eyes.
"A finger in a box! What a miserable exchange for the fairest and purest
that God has allowed to move on earth among men. Can we wonder if the
Almighty has at last disdained and rejected the wretched substitute, and
claims once more for His Nile that which was formerly given? But where
is the mother, where is the father, you will ask, who, in our selfish
days, is so penetrated with love for his country, his province, his
native town, that he will dedicate his virgin daughter to perish in the
waters for the common good? What daughter of our nation is ready of her
own free will to die for the salvation of others?
"But be not afraid. Have no fears for the growing maiden, the very apple
of your eye, in your women's rooms. Fear not for your granddaughters,
sisters, playfellows and betrothed: From the earliest ages a stringent
law forbade the sacrifice of Egyptian blood; strangers were to perish, or
those who worshipped other gods than those in Egypt.
"The same law, citizens and fellow-believers, is incumbent on us. And
mark me well, all of you! Would it not seem as though Fate desired to
help us to bring to our blessed Nile the offering which for so many
centuries has been withheld? The river claims it; and, as if by a
miracle, it has been brought to our hand. For a crime which does not
taint her purity our judges have to-day condemned to death a beautiful
and spotless maiden--a stranger, and at the same time a Greek and a
heretic Melchite.
"This stirs you, this fills your souls with joyful thankfulness; I see
it! Then make ready for thy bridal, noble stream, Benefactor of our land
and nation! The virgin, the bride that thou hast longed for, we deck for
thee, we lead to thine embrace--she shall be Thine!
"And you, Memphites, citizens and fellow-sufferers," and the orator
leaned far over the parapet towards the crowd, "when I ask you for your
suffrages, when I appeal to you in the name of the senate, and of this
venerable sage...."
But here he was interrupted by the triumphant shout of the assembled
multitude; a thousand voices went up in a mighty, heaven-rending cry:
"To the Nile with her--the maiden to the Nile!"
"Marry the Melchite to the river! Bring wreaths for the bride of the
Nile, bring flowers for her marriage."
"Let us abide by the teaching of our fathers!"
"Hail to the councillor! Hail to the sage, Horapollo! Hail to our chief
Senator!"
These were the glad and enthusiastic shouts that rose in loud confusion;
and it was only on the north side, where the money-changers' tables now
stood deserted-for gold and silver had long since been placed in safety--
that a sinister murmur of dissent was heard. The little girl in the
Persian's arms had long since been breathing hard and deep. She thought
she knew whom that fiend up there had his eye upon for his cursed heathen
sacrifice; and as Mary bent down to Dame Joanna to see whether she shared
her hideous suspicion, she perceived that her eyes and Pulcheria's were
full of tears.--That was enough; she asked no questions, for a new act in
the drama claimed her attention.
Close to the money-changer's stalls a hand was lifted on high, holding a
crucifix, and the child could see it steadily progressing through the
crowd towards the Curia. Every one made way for the sacred symbol and
the bearer of it; and to Mary's fancy the throng parted on each side of
the advancing image of the Redeemer, as the waters of the Red Sea had
parted at the approach of the people of God. The murmurs in that part of
the square grew louder; the acclamations of the populace waxed fainter;
every voice seemed to fail, and presently a frail figure in bishop's
robes, small but rigidly dignified, was seen to mount the steps and
finally disappear within the portals of the Curia.
The turmoil sank like an ebbing wave to a low, enquiring mutter, and even
this died away when the diminutive personage, who looked the taller,
however, for the crucifix which he still held, came out on the balcony,
approached the parapet, and stretched forth the arm that held the image
above the heads of the foremost rows of the people.
At this Horapollo stepped up to Alexander, his eyes flashing with rage,
and demanded that the intruder should be forbidden to speak; but the
commanding eye of the new-comer rested on the dyer, who bowed his head
and allowed him to proceed. Nor did one of the senators dare to hinder
him, for every one recognized him as the zealous, learned, and determined
priest who had, since yesterday, filled the place of the deceased bishop.
Their new pastor began, addressing his flock in as loud a voice as he
could command:
"Look on this Cross and hearken to its minister! You languish for the
blessing of Christ, and you follow after heathen abominations. The
superstitious triumph, through which I have struggled to reach you, will
be turned to howls of anguish if you stop your ears and are deaf to the
words of salvation.
"Yea, you may murmur! You will not reduce me to silence, for Truth
speaks in me and can never be dumb. I say to each of you that knows it
not: The staff of the departed Plotinus has been placed in my hands.
I would fain bear it with gentleness and mercy; but, if I must, I will
wield it as a sword and a scourge till your wounds bleed and your bruises
ache.
"Behold in my right hand the image of your Redeemer! I hold it up as a
wall between you and the heathen abomination which you hail with joy in
your blindness.
"Ye are accursed and apostate. Lift up your hearts, and look at Him who
died on the cross to save you. Verily He will not let him perish who
believeth in Him; but you! where is your faith? Because it is
night ye lament and cry: The Light is dead!' Because ye are sick ye
say: 'The physician cannot heal!'
"What are these blasphemies that I hear: 'The Lord and His Church are
powerless! Magic, enchantments, and heathen abominations may save us.'
--But, inasmuch as ye trust not in the true Saviour and Redeemer, but in
heathen wickedness, magic, and enchantments, punishment shall be heaped
on punishment; and so it will be,--I see it coming--till ye are choked
in the mud and seek with groans the only Hand that is able to save.
"That whereby the blinded sons of men hope to escape from the evil, that,
and that only, is the source of their sufferings and I stand here to stay
that spring and dig a channel for its overflow.
"Children of Moloch ye try to be and I hope to make you Christians again.
But the maiden whom your fury would cast into the abyss of the river is
under the merciful protection of the supreme Church, for the death of her
body will bring death to your souls. Saint Orion turns from you with
horror! Away from the hapless victim! Away, I say, with your accursed
desires and sacrilegious hands!"
"And sit with them in our laps and wring them in prayer till they ache,
while want and the plague snatch away those that are left!" interrupted
the old man's voice, thin and feeble, but audible at a considerable
distance, and from the market-place thousands proclaimed their approval
by loud shouts.
The president of the senate had listened with a penitent mien and bowed
head, but now he recovered his presence of mind and exclaimed
indignantly:
"The people die, the town and country are going to ruin, plague and
horrors rise up from the river. Show us some other way of escape,
or let us trust to our forefathers and try this last means."
But the litttle man drew himself up more stiffly, pointed with his left
hand to the crucifix, and cried with unmoved composure:
"Believe, hope, and pray!"
"Perhaps you think that no evil is come upon us!" cried Alexander.
"You, to be sure, have seen no wife with glazing eyes, no child
struggling for breath. . . ." And a fresh tumult came up from below,
wilder and louder than ever. Each one whose home or beasts had been
blighted by death, whose gardens and fields had perished of drought,
whose dates had dropped one by one from the trees, lifted up his voice
and shrieked:
"The victim, the victim!"
"To the river with the maiden!"
"All hail to our deliverer, the wise Horapollo!" But others shouted
against them:
"Let us remain Christians! Hail to Bishop John!"
"Think of our souls!"
The prelate made an effort once more to rivet the attention of the
populace, and failing in this he turned to the senators and the
trumpeters, whom at length he succeeded in persuading to blow again and
again, and more loudly through their brazen tuba. But the call produced
no effect, for in the market square groups had formed on opposite sides,
and blows and wrestling threatened to end in a sanguinary street-riot.
The women succeeded in getting away from the scene of action under the
protection of the Masdakite, before the Arab cavalry rode across to
separate the combatants; but in the Curia Bishop John explained to the
Fathers that he would make every effort to prevent this inhuman and
unchristian sacrifice of a young girl, even though she was a Melchite
and under sentence of death. This very day a carrier pigeon should be
dispatched to the patriarch in Upper Egypt, and bring back his decision.
When, on this, Horapollo replied that the Khaliff's representative here
had signified his consent to the proceedings, and that even against the
will of the clergy the misery of the people must be put an end to, the
Bishop broke out vehemently and threatened all who had first suggested
this hideous scheme with the anathema of the Church. But Horapollo
retorted again with flaming eloquence, the desperate Senators took his
part, and the Bishop left the Curia in the highest wrath.