THE LAST OF THE LEGIONS _and Other Tales of Long Ago_

 A. CONAN DOYLE

 By SIR ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE

_Novels and Stories_

 DANGER! _And Other Stories_ THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW HIS LAST BOW _Some Later Reminiscences of Sherlock Holmes_ THE BLACK DOCTOR _And Other Tales of Terror and Mystery_ THE MAN FROM ARCHANGEL _And Other Tales of Adventure_ THE CROXLEY MASTER _And Other Tales of the Ring and Camp_ THE GREAT KEINPLATZ EXPERIMENT _And Other Tales of Twilight and the Unseen_ THE LAST OF THE LEGIONS _And Other Tales of Long Ago_ THE DEALINGS OF CAPTAIN SHARKEY _And Other Tales of Pirates_

_On the Life Hereafter_

 THE NEW REVELATION THE VITAL MESSAGE THE COMING OF THE FAIRIES THE CASE FOR SPIRIT PHOTOGRAPHY THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST OUR AMERICAN ADVENTURE

_A History of the Great War_

 THE BRITISH CAMPAIGN IN FRANCE AND FLANDERS--Six Vols. 

_Poems_

 THE GUARDS CAME THROUGH

 NEW YORK GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY

 THE LAST OF THE LEGIONS _and Other Tales of Long Ago_

 BY A. CONAN DOYLE

 NEW YORK GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY

 COPYRIGHT, 1905, 1908, 1909, 1910, 1911, 1913, 1914, 1918, 1919, 1922 BY A. CONAN DOYLE

 COPYRIGHT, 1910, BY CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS

 COPYRIGHT, 1911, BY ASSOCIATED SUNDAY MAGAZINES, INC. 

 COPYRIGHT, 1908, BY THE MCCLURE COMPANY

 COPYRIGHT, 1900, 1902, BY THE S. S. MCCLURE COMPANY

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 THE LAST OF THE LEGIONS AND OTHER TALES OF LONG AGO

 ----Q----

 PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

CONTENTS

 PAGE

 I THE LAST OF THE LEGIONS 9

 II THE LAST GALLEY 22

 III THROUGH THE VEIL 37

 IV THE COMING OF THE HUNS 47

 V THE CONTEST 68

 VI THE FIRST CARGO 83

 VII AN ICONOCLAST 98

 VIII GIANT MAXIMIN 112

 IX THE RED STAR 141

 X THE SILVER MIRROR 158

 XI THE HOME-COMING 177

 XII A POINT OF CONTACT 202

 XIII THE CENTURION 215

THE LAST OF THE LEGIONS

 THE LAST OF THE LEGIONS _and Other Tales of Long Ago_

I

THE LAST OF THE LEGIONS

Pontus, the Roman viceroy, sat in the atrium of his palatial villa bythe Thames, and he looked with perplexity at the scroll of papyrus whichhe had just unrolled. Before him stood the messenger who had brought it, a swarthy little Italian, whose black eyes were glazed with want ofsleep, and his olive features darker still from dust and sweat. Theviceroy was looking fixedly at him, yet he saw him not, so full was hismind of this sudden and most unexpected order. To him it seemed as ifthe solid earth had given way beneath his feet. His life and the work ofhis life had come to irremediable ruin. 

"Very good, " he said at last in a hard dry voice, "you can go. "

The man saluted and staggered out of the hall. A yellow-haired Britishmajor-domo came forward for orders. 

"Is the General there?"

"He is waiting, your excellency. "

"Then show him in, and leave us together. "

A few minutes later Licinius Crassus, the head of the British militaryestablishment, had joined his chief. He was a large, bearded man in awhite civilian toga, hemmed with the Patrician purple. His rough, boldfeatures, burned and seamed and lined with the long African wars, wereshadowed with anxiety as he looked with questioning eyes at the drawn, haggard face of the viceroy. 

"I fear, your excellency, that you have had bad news from Rome. "

"The worst, Crassus. It is all over with Britain. It is a questionwhether even Gaul will be held. "

"Saint Albus save us! Are the orders precise?"

"Here they are, with the Emperor's own seal. "

"But why? I had heard a rumour, but it had seemed too incredible. "

"So had I only last week, and had the fellow scourged for having spreadit. But here it is as clear as words can make it: 'Bring every man ofthe Legions by forced marches to the help of the Empire. Leave not acohort in Britain. ' These are my orders. "

"But the cause?"

"They will let the limbs wither so that the heart be stronger. The oldGerman hive is about to swarm once more. There are fresh crowds ofBarbarians from Dacia and Scythia. Every sword is needed to hold theAlpine passes. They cannot let three legions lie idle in Britain. "

The soldier shrugged his shoulders. 

"When the legions go no Roman would feel that his life was safe here. For all that we have done, it is none the less the truth that it is nocountry of ours, and that we hold it as we won it by the sword. "

"Yes, every man, woman, and child of Latin blood must come with us toGaul. The galleys are already waiting at Portus Dubris. Get the ordersout, Crassus, at once. As the Valerian legion falls back from the Wallof Hadrian it can take the northern colonists with it. The Jovians canbring in the people from the west, and the Batavians can escort theeasterns if they will muster at Camboricum. You will see to it. " He sankhis face for a moment in his hands. "It is a fearsome thing, " said he, "to tear up the roots of so goodly a tree. "

"To make more space for such a crop of weeds, " said the soldierbitterly. "My God, what will be the end of these poor Britons! Fromocean to ocean there is not a tribe which will not be at the throat ofits neighbour when the last Roman Lictor has turned his back. With thesehot-headed Silures it is hard enough now to keep the swords in theirsheaths. "

"The kennel might fight as they choose among themselves until the besthound won, " said the Roman Governor. "At least the victor would keep thearts and the religion which we have brought them, and Britain would beone land. No, it is the bear from the north and the wolves from oversea, the painted savage from beyond the walls and the Saxon pirate from overthe water, who will succeed to our rule. Where we saved, they willslay; where we built, they will burn; where we planted, they willravage. But the die is cast, Crassus. You will carry out the orders. "

"I will send out the messengers within an hour. This very morning therehas come news that the Barbarians are through the old gap in the wall, and their outriders as far south as Vinovia. "

The Governor shrugged his shoulders. 

"These things concern us no longer, " said he. Then a bitter smile brokeupon his aquiline clean-shaven face. "Whom think you that I see inaudience this morning?"

"Nay, I know not. "

"Caradoc and Regnus, and Celticus the Icenian, who, like so many of thericher Britons, have been educated at Rome, and who would lay before metheir plans as to the ruling of this country. "

"And what is their plan?"

"That they themselves should do it. "

The Roman soldier laughed. "Well, they will have their will, " said he, as he saluted and turned upon his heel. "Farewell, your excellency. There are hard days coming for you and for me. "

An hour later the British deputation was ushered into the presence ofthe Governor. They were good, steadfast men, men who with a whole heart, and at some risk to themselves, had taken up their country's cause, sofar as they could see it. At the same time they well knew that under themild and beneficent rule of Rome it was only when they passed from wordsto deeds that their backs or their necks would be in danger. They stoodnow, earnest and a little abashed, before the throne of the viceroy. Celticus was a swarthy, black-bearded little Iberian. Caradoc and Regnuswere tall middle-aged men of the fair flaxen British type. All threewere dressed in the draped yellow toga after the Latin fashion, insteadof in the bracæ and tunic which distinguished their more insularfellow-countrymen. 

"Well?" asked the Governor. 

"We are here, " said Celticus boldly, "as the spokesmen of a great numberof our fellow-countrymen, for the purpose of sending our petitionthrough you to the Emperor and to the Roman Senate, that we may urgeupon them the policy of allowing us to govern this country after ourown ancient fashion. " He paused, as if awaiting some outburst as ananswer to his own temerity; but the Governor merely nodded his head as asign that he should proceed. "We had laws of our own before ever Cæsarset foot in Britain, which have served their purpose since first ourforefathers came from the land of Ham. We are not a child among thenations, but our history goes back in our own traditions further eventhan that of Rome, and we are galled by this yoke which you have laidupon us. "

"Are not our laws just?" asked the Governor. 

"The code of Cæsar is just, but it is always the code of Cæsar. Our ownlaws were made for our own uses and our own circumstances, and we wouldfain have them again. "

"You speak Roman as if you had been bred in the Forum; you wear a Romantoga; your hair is filleted in Roman fashion--are not these the gifts ofRome?"

"We would take all the learning and all the arts that Rome or Greececould give, but we would still be Britain, and ruled by Britons. "

The viceroy smiled. "By the rood of Saint Helena, " said he, "had youspoken thus to some of my heathen ancestors, there would have been anend to your politics. That you have dared to stand before my face andsay as much is a proof for ever of the gentleness of our rule. But Iwould reason with you for a moment upon this your request. You know wellthat this land has never been one kingdom, but was always under manychiefs and many tribes, who have made war upon each other. Would you invery truth have it so again?"

"Those were in the evil pagan days, the days of the Druid and theoak-grove, your excellency. But now we are held together by a gospel ofpeace. "

The viceroy shook his head. "If all the world were of the same way ofthinking, then it would be easier, " said he. "It may be that thisblessed doctrine of peace will be little help to you when you are faceto face with strong men who still worship the god of war. What would youdo against the Picts of the north?"

"Your excellency knows that many of the bravest legionaries are ofBritish blood. These are our defence. "

"But discipline, man, the power to command, the knowledge of war, thestrength to act--it is in these things that you would fail. Too longhave you leaned upon the crutch. "

"The times may be hard, but when we have gone through them, Britain willbe herself again. "

"Nay, she will be under a different and a harsher master, " said theRoman. "Already the pirates swarm upon the eastern coast. Were it notfor our Roman Count of the Saxon shore they would land to-morrow. I seethe day when Britain may, indeed, be one; but that will be because youand your fellows are either dead or are driven into the mountains of thewest. All goes into the melting pot, and if a better Albion should comeforth from it, it will be after ages of strife, and neither you nor yourpeople will have part or lot in it. "

Regnus, the tall young Celt, smiled. "With the help of God and our ownright arms we should hope for a better end, " said he. "Give us but thechance, and we will bear the brunt. "

"You are as men that are lost, " said the viceroy sadly. "I see thisbroad land, with its gardens and orchards, its fair villas and itswalled towns, its bridges and its roads, all the work of Rome. Surely itwill pass even as a dream, and these three hundred years of settledorder will leave no trace behind. For learn that it will indeed be asyou wish, and that this very day the orders have come to me that thelegions are to go. "

The three Britons looked at each other in amazement. Their first impulsewas towards a wild exultation, but reflection and doubt followed closeupon its heels. 

"This is indeed wondrous news, " said Celticus. "This is a day of days tothe motherland. When do the legions go, your excellency, and what troopswill remain behind for our protection?"

"The legions go at once, " said the viceroy. "You will doubtless rejoiceto hear that within a month there will be no Roman soldier in theisland, nor, indeed, a Roman of any sort, age, or sex, if I can takethem with me. "

The faces of the Britons were shadowed, and Caradoc, a grave andthoughtful man, spoke for the first time. 

"But this is over sudden, your excellency, " said he. "There is muchtruth in what you have said about the pirates. From my villa near thefort of Anderida I saw eighty of their galleys only last week, and Iknow well that they would be on us like ravens on a dying ox. For manyyears to come it would not be possible for us to hold them off. "

The viceroy shrugged his shoulders. "It is your affair now, " said he. "Rome must look to herself. "

The last traces of joy had passed from the faces of the Britons. Suddenly the future had started up clearly before them, and they quailedat the prospect. 

"There is a rumour in the market-place, " said Celticus, "that thenorthern Barbarians are through the gap in the wall. Who is to stoptheir progress?"

"You and your fellows, " said the Roman. 

Clearer still grew the future, and there was terror in the eyes of thespokesmen as they faced it. 

"But, your excellency, if the legions should go at once, we should havethe wild Scots at York, and the Northmen in the Thames within the month. We can build ourselves up under your shield, and in a few years it wouldbe easier for us; but not now, your excellency, not now. "

"Tut, man; for years you have been clamouring in our ears and raisingthe people. Now you have got what you asked. What more would you have?Within the month you will be as free as were your ancestors before Cæsarset foot upon your shore. "

"For God's sake, your excellency, put our words out of your head. Thematter had not been well considered. We will send to Rome. We will ridepost-haste ourselves. We will fall at the Emperor's feet. We will kneelbefore the Senate and beg that the legions remain. "

The Roman proconsul rose from his chair and motioned that the audiencewas at an end. 

"You will do what you please, " said he. "I and my men are for Italy. "

 * * * * *

And even as he said, so was it, for before the spring had ripened intosummer, the troops were clanking down the via Aurelia on their way tothe Ligurian passes, whilst every road in Gaul was dotted with the cartsand the waggons which bore the Brito-Roman refugees on their wearyjourney to their distant country. But ere another summer had passedCelticus was dead, for he was flayed alive by the pirates and his skinnailed upon the door of a church near Caistor. Regnus, too, was dead, for he was tied to a tree and shot with arrows when the painted men cameto the sacking of Isca. Caradoc only was alive, but he was a slave toElda the red Caledonian and his wife was mistress to Mordred the wildchief of the western Cymri. From the ruined wall in the north to Vectisin the south blood and ruin and ashes covered the fair land of Britain. And after many days it came out fairer than ever, but, even as the Romanhad said, neither the Britons nor any men of their blood came into theheritage of that which had been their own. 

II

THE LAST GALLEY

 "Mutato nomine, de te, Britannia, fabula narratur. "

It was a spring morning, one hundred and forty-six years before thecoming of Christ. The North African coast, with its broad hem of goldensand, its green belt of feathery palm trees, and its background ofbarren, red-scarped hills, shimmered like a dream country in the opallight. Save for a narrow edge of snow-white surf, the Mediterranean layblue and serene as far as the eye could reach. In all its vast expansethere was no break but for a single galley, which was slowly making itsway from the direction of Sicily and heading for the distant harbour ofCarthage. 

Seen from afar it was a stately and beautiful vessel, deep red incolour, double-banked with scarlet oars, its broad, flapping sailstained with Tyrian purple, its bulwarks gleaming with brass work. Abrazen, three-pronged ram projected in front, and a high golden figureof Baal, the God of the Phœnicians, children of Canaan, shone upon theafter-deck. From the single high mast above the huge sail streamed thetiger-striped flag of Carthage. So, like some stately scarlet bird, withgolden beak and wings of purple, she swam upon the face of the waters--athing of might and of beauty as seen from the distant shore. 

But approach and look at her now! What are these dark streaks which foulher white decks and dapple her brazen shields? Why do the long red oarsmove out of time, irregular, convulsive? Why are some missing from thestaring portholes, some snapped with jagged, yellow edges, some trailinginert against the sides? Why are two prongs of the brazen ram twistedand broken? See, even the high image of Baal is battered and disfigured!By every sign this ship has passed through some grievous trial, some dayof terror, which has left its heavy marks upon her. 

And now stand upon the deck itself, and see more closely the men who manher! There are two decks forward and aft, while in the open waist arethe double banks of seats, above and below, where the rowers, two to anoar, tug and bend at their endless task. Down the centre is a narrowplatform, along which pace a line of warders, lash in hand, who cutcruelly at the slave who pauses, be it only for an instant, to sweep thesweat from his dripping brow. But these slaves--look at them! Some arecaptured Romans, some Sicilians, many black Libyans, but all are in thelast exhaustion, their weary eyelids drooped over their eyes, their lipsthick with black crusts, and pink with bloody froth, their arms andbacks moving mechanically to the hoarse chant of the overseer. Theirbodies of all tints from ivory to jet, are stripped to the waist, andevery glistening back shows the angry stripes of the warders. But it isnot from these that the blood comes which reddens the seats and tintsthe salt water washing beneath their manacled feet. Great gaping wounds, the marks of sword slash and spear stab, show crimson upon their nakedchests and shoulders, while many lie huddled and senseless athwart thebenches, careless for ever of the whips which still hiss above them. Nowwe can understand those empty portholes and those trailing oars. 

Nor were the crew in better case than their slaves. The decks werelittered with wounded and dying men. It was but a remnant who stillremained upon their feet. The most lay exhausted upon the fore-deck, while a few of the more zealous were mending their shattered armour, restringing their bows, or cleaning the deck from the marks of combat. Upon a raised platform at the base of the mast stood the sailing-masterwho conned the ship, his eyes fixed upon the distant point of Megarawhich screened the eastern side of the Bay of Carthage. On theafter-deck were gathered a number of officers, silent and brooding, glancing from time to time at two of their own class who stood apartdeep in conversation. The one, tall, dark, and wiry, with pure, Semiticfeatures, and the limbs of a giant, was Magro, the famous Carthaginiancaptain, whose name was still a terror on every shore, from Gaul to theEuxine. The other, a white-bearded, swarthy man, with indomitablecourage and energy stamped upon every eager line of his keen, aquilineface, was Gisco the politician, a man of the highest Punic blood, aSuffete of the purple robe, and the leader of that party in the statewhich had watched and striven amid the selfishness and slothfulness ofhis fellow-countrymen to rouse the public spirit and waken the publicconscience to the ever-increasing danger from Rome. As they talked, thetwo men glanced continually, with earnest anxious faces, towards thenorthern skyline. 

"It is certain, " said the older man, with gloom in his voice andbearing, "none have escaped save ourselves. "

"I did not leave the press of the battle whilst I saw one ship which Icould succour, " Magro answered. "As it was, we came away, as you saw, like a wolf which has a hound hanging on to either haunch. The Romandogs can show the wolf-bites which prove it. Had any other galley wonclear, they would surely be with us by now, since they have no place ofsafety save Carthage. "

The younger warrior glanced keenly ahead to the distant point whichmarked his native city. Already the low, leafy hill could be seen, dotted with the white villas of the wealthy Phœnician merchants. Abovethem, a gleaming dot against the pale blue morning sky, shone the brazenroof of the citadel of Byrsa, which capped the sloping town. 

"Already they can see us from the watch-towers, " he remarked. "Even fromafar they may know the galley of Black Magro. But which of all of themwill guess that we alone remain of all that goodly fleet which sailedout with blare of trumpet and roll of drum but one short month ago?"

The patrician smiled bitterly. "If it were not for our great ancestorsand for our beloved country, the Queen of the Waters, " said he, "I couldfind it in my heart to be glad at this destruction which has come uponthis vain and feeble generation. You have spent your life upon the seas, Magro. You do not know how it has been with us on the land. But I haveseen this canker grow upon us which now leads us to our death. I andothers have gone down into the market-place to plead with the people, and been pelted with mud for our pains. Many a time have I pointed toRome, and said, 'Behold these people, who bear arms themselves, each manfor his own duty and pride. How can you who hide behind mercenaries hopeto stand against them?'--a hundred times I have said it. "

"And had they no answer?" asked the Rover. 

"Rome was far off and they could not see it, so to them it was nothing, "the old man answered. "Some thought of trade, and some of votes, andsome of profits from the State, but none would see that the Stateitself, the mother of all things, was sinking to her end. So might thebees debate who should have wax or honey when the torch was blazingwhich would bring to ashes the hive and all therein. 'Are we not rulersof the sea?' 'Was not Hannibal a great man?' Such were their cries, living ever in the past and blind to the future. Before that sun setsthere will be tearing of hair and rending of garments; but what willthat now avail us?"

"It is some sad comfort, " said Magro, "to know that what Rome holds shecannot keep. "

"Why say you that? When we go down, she is supreme in all the world. "

"For a time, and only for a time, " Magro answered gravely. "Yet you willsmile, perchance, when I tell you how it is that I know it. There was awise woman who lived in that part of the Tin Islands which juts forthinto the sea, and from her lips I have heard many things, but not onewhich has not come aright. Of the fall of our own country, and even ofthis battle, from which we now return, she told me clearly. There ismuch strange lore amongst these savage peoples in the west of the landof Tin. "

"What said she of Rome?"

"That she also would fall, even as we, weakened by her riches and herfactions. "

Gisco rubbed his hands. "That at least makes our own fall less bitter, "said he. "But since we have fallen, and Rome will fall, who in turn mayhope to be Queen of the Waters?"

"That also I asked her, " said Magro, "and gave her my Tyrian belt withthe golden buckle as a guerdon for her answer. But, indeed, it was toohigh payment for the tale she told, which must be false if all else shesaid was true. She would have it that in coming days it was her ownland, this fog-girt isle where painted savages can scarce row a wickercoracle from point to point, which shall at last take the trident whichCarthage and Rome have dropped. "

The smile which flickered upon the old Patrician's keen features diedaway suddenly, and his fingers closed upon his companion's wrist. Theother had set rigid, his head advanced, his hawk eyes upon the northernskyline. Its straight, blue horizon was broken by two low black dots. 

"Galleys!" whispered Gisco. 

The whole crew had seen them. They clustered along the starboardbulwarks, pointing and chattering. For a moment the gloom of defeat waslifted, and a buzz of joy ran from group to group at the thought thatthey were not alone--that some one had escaped the great carnage as wellas themselves. 

"By the spirit of Baal, " said Black Magro, "I could not have believedthat any could have fought clear from such a welter. Could it be youngHamilcar in the _Africa_, or is it Beneva in the Blue Syrian ship? Wethree with others may form a squadron and make head against them yet. Ifwe hold our course, they will join us ere we round the harbour mole. "

Slowly the injured galley toiled on her way, and more swiftly the twonew-comers swept down from the north. Only a few miles off lay the greenpoint and the white houses which flanked the great African city. Already, upon the headland, could be seen a dark group of waitingtownsmen. Gisco and Magro were still watching with puckered gaze theapproaching galleys, when the brown Libyan boatswain, with flashingteeth and gleaming eyes, rushed upon the poop, his long thin armstabbing to the north. 

"Romans!" he cried. "Romans!"

A hush had fallen over the great vessel. Only the wash of the water andthe measured rattle and beat of the oars broke in upon the silence. 

"By the horns of God's altar, I believe the fellow is right!" cried oldGisco. "See how they swoop upon us like falcons. They are full-mannedand full-oared. "

"Plain wood, unpainted, " said Magro. "See how it gleams yellow where thesun strikes it. "

"And yonder thing beneath the mast. Is it not the cursed bridge they usefor boarding?"

"So they grudge us even one, " said Magro with a bitter laugh. "Not evenone galley shall return to the old sea-mother. Well, for my part, Iwould as soon have it so. I am of a mind to stop the oars and awaitthem. "

"It is a man's thought, " answered old Gisco; "but the city will need usin the days to come. What shall it profit us to make the Roman victorycomplete? Nay, Magro, let the slaves row as they never rowed before, notfor our own safety, but for the profit of the State. "

So the great red ship laboured and lurched onwards, like a weary pantingstag which seeks shelter from his pursuers, while ever swifter and evernearer sped the two lean fierce galleys from the north. Already themorning sun shone upon the lines of low Roman helmets above thebulwarks, and glistened on the silver wave where each sharp prow shotthrough the still blue water. Every moment the ships drew nearer, andthe long thin scream of the Roman trumpets grew louder upon the ear. 

 * * * * *

Upon the high bluff of Megara there stood a great concourse of thepeople of Carthage who had hurried forth from the city upon the newsthat the galleys were in sight. They stood now, rich and poor, effeteand plebeian, white Phœnician and dark Kabyle, gazing with breathlessinterest at the spectacle before them. Some hundreds of feet beneaththem the Punic galley had drawn so close that with their naked eyesthey could see those stains of battle which told their dismal tale. TheRomans, too, were heading in such a way that it was before their veryfaces that their ship was about to be cut off; and yet of all thismultitude not one could raise a hand in its defence. Some wept inimpotent grief, some cursed with flashing eyes and knotted fists, someon their knees held up appealing hands to Baal; but neither prayer, tears, nor curses could undo the past nor mend the present. That broken, crawling galley meant that their fleet was gone. Those two fiercedarting ships meant that the hands of Rome were already at their throat. Behind them would come others and others, the innumerable trained hostsof the great Republic, long mistress of the land, now dominant also uponthe waters. In a month, two months, three at the most, their armieswould be there, and what could all the untrained multitudes of Carthagedo to stop them?

"Nay!" cried one, more hopeful than the rest, "at least we are brave menwith arms in our hands. "

"Fool!" said another, "is it not such talk which has brought us to ourruin? What is the brave man untrained to the brave man trained? Whenyou stand before the sweep and rush of a Roman legion you may learn thedifference. "

"Then let us train!"

"Too late! A full year is needful to turn a man to a soldier. Where willyou--where will your city be within the year? Nay, there is but onechance for us. If we give up our commerce and our colonies, if we stripourselves of all that made us great, then perchance the Roman conquerormay hold his hand. "

And already the last sea-fight of Carthage was coming swiftly to an endbefore them. Under their very eyes the two Roman galleys had shot in, one on either side of the vessel of Black Magro. They had grappled withhim, and he, desperate in his despair, had cast the crooked flukes ofhis anchors over their gunwales, and bound them to him in an iron grip, whilst with hammer and crowbar he burst great holes in his ownsheathing. The last Punic galley should never be rowed into Ostia, asight for the holiday-makers of Rome. She would lie in her own waters. And the fierce, dark soul of her rover captain glowed as he thoughtthat not alone should she sink into the depths of the mother sea. 

Too late did the Romans understand the man with whom they had to deal. Their boarders who had flooded the Punic decks felt the planking sinkand sway beneath them. They rushed to gain their own vessels; but they, too, were being drawn downwards, held in the dying grip of the great redgalley. Over they went and ever over. Now the deck of Magro's ship isflush with the water, and the Romans', drawn towards it by the ironbonds which hold them, are tilted downwards, one bulwark upon the waves, one reared high in the air. Madly they strain to cast off the death-gripof the galley. She is under the surface now, and ever swifter, with thegreater weight, the Roman ships heel after her. There is a rendingcrash. The wooden side is torn out of one, and mutilated, dismembered, she rights herself, and lies a helpless thing upon the water. But a lastyellow gleam in the blue water shows where her consort has been draggedto her end in the iron death-grapple of her foeman. The tiger-stripedflag of Carthage has sunk beneath the swirling surface, never more tobe seen upon the face of the sea. 

For in that year a great cloud hung for seventeen days over the Africancoast, a deep black cloud which was the dark shroud of the burning city. And when the seventeen days were over, Roman ploughs were driven fromend to end of the charred ashes, and salt was scattered there as a signthat Carthage should be no more. And far off a huddle of naked, starvingfolk stood upon the distant mountains, and looked down upon the desolateplain which had once been the fairest and richest upon earth. And theyunderstood too late that it is the law of heaven that the world is givento the hardy and to the self-denying, whilst he who would escape theduties of manhood will soon be stripped of the pride, the wealth, andthe power, which are the prizes which manhood brings. 

III

THROUGH THE VEIL

He was a great shock-headed, freckle-faced Borderer, the linealdescendant of a cattle-thieving clan in Liddesdale. In spite of hisancestry he was as solid and sober a citizen as one would wish to see, atown councillor of Melrose, an elder of the Church, and the chairman ofthe local branch of the Young Men's Christian Association. Brown was hisname--and you saw it printed up as "Brown and Handiside" over the greatgrocery stores in the High Street. His wife, Maggie Brown, was anArmstrong before her marriage, and came from an old farming stock in thewilds of Teviothead. She was small, swarthy, and dark-eyed, with astrangely nervous temperament for a Scotch woman. No greater contrastcould be found than the big tawny man and the dark little woman, butboth were of the soil as far back as any memory could extend. 

One day--it was the first anniversary of their wedding--they had drivenover together to see the excavations of the Roman Fort at Newstead. Itwas not a particularly picturesque spot. From the northern bank of theTweed, just where the river forms a loop, there extends a gentle slopeof arable land. Across it run the trenches of the excavators, with hereand there an exposure of old stonework to show the foundations of theancient walls. It had been a huge place, for the camp was fifty acres inextent, and the fort fifteen. However, it was all made easy for themsince Mr. Brown knew the farmer to whom the land belonged. Under hisguidance they spent a long summer evening inspecting the trenches, thepits, the ramparts, and all the strange variety of objects which werewaiting to be transported to the Edinburgh Museum of Antiquities. Thebuckle of a woman's belt had been dug up that very day, and the farmerwas discoursing upon it when his eyes fell upon Mrs. Brown's face. 

"Your good leddy's tired, " said he. "Maybe you'd best rest a wee beforewe gang further. "

Brown looked at his wife. She was certainly very pale, and her dark eyeswere bright and wild. 

"What is it, Maggie? I've wearied you. I'm thinkin' it's time we wentback. "

"No, no, John, let us go on. It's wonderful! It's like a dreamlandplace. It all seems so close and so near to me. How long were the Romanshere, Mr. Cunningham?"

"A fair time, mam. If you saw the kitchen midden-pits you would guess ittook a long time to fill them. "

"And why did they leave?"

"Well, mam, by all accounts they left because they had to. The folkround could thole them no longer, so they just up and burned the fortaboot their lugs. You can see the fire marks on the stanes. "

The woman gave a quick little shudder. "A wild night--a fearsome night, "said she. "The sky must have been red that night--and these grey stones, they may have been red also. "

"Aye, I think they were red, " said her husband. "It's a queer thing, Maggie, and it may be your words that have done it; but I seem to seethat business aboot as clear as ever I saw anything in my life. Thelight shone on the water. "

"Aye, the light shone on the water. And the smoke gripped you by thethroat. And all the savages were yelling. "

The old farmer began to laugh. "The leddy will be writin' a story abootthe old fort, " said he. "I've shown many a one ower it, but I neverheard it put so clear afore. Some folk have the gift. "

They had strolled along the edge of the foss, and a pit yawned upon theright of them. 

"That pit was fourteen foot deep, " said the farmer. "What d'ye think wedug oot from the bottom o't? Weel, it was just the skeleton of a man wi'a spear by his side. I'm thinkin' he was grippin' it when he died. Now, how cam' a man wi' a spear doon a hole fourteen foot deep. He wasna'buried there, for they aye burned their dead. What make ye o' that, mam?"

"He sprang doon to get clear of the savages, " said the woman. 

"Weel, it's likely enough, and a' the professors from Edinburgh couldna'gie a better reason. I wish you were aye here, mam, to answer a' oordeeficulties sae readily. Now, here's the altar that we foond last week. There's an inscreeption. They tell me it's Latin, and it means that themen o' this fort give thanks to God for their safety. "

They examined the old worn stone. There was a large deeply-cut "VV" uponthe top of it. 

"What does 'VV' stand for?" asked Brown. 

"Naebody kens, " the guide answered. 

"_Valeria Victrix_, " said the lady softly. Her face was paler than ever, her eyes far away, as one who peers down the dim aisles of overarchingcenturies. 

"What's that?" asked her husband sharply. 

She started as one who wakes from sleep. "What were we talking about?"she asked. 

"About this 'VV' upon the stone. "

"No doubt it was just the name of the Legion which put the altar up. "

"Aye, but you gave some special name. "

"Did I? How absurd! How should I ken what the name was?"

"You said something--'_Victrix_, ' I think. "

"I suppose I was guessing. It gives me the queerest feeling, this place, as if I were not myself, but some one else. "

"Aye, it's an uncanny place, " said her husband, looking round with anexpression almost of fear in his bold grey eyes. "I feel it mysel'. Ithink we'll just be wishin' you good evenin', Mr. Cunningham, and getback to Melrose before the dark sets in. "

Neither of them could shake off the strange impression which had beenleft upon them by their visit to the excavations. It was as if somemiasma had risen from those damp trenches and passed into their blood. All the evening they were silent and thoughtful, but such remarks asthey did make showed that the same subject was in the mind of each. Brown had a restless night, in which he dreamed a strange connecteddream, so vivid that he woke sweating and shivering like a frightenedhorse. He tried to convey it all to his wife as they sat together atbreakfast in the morning. 

"It was the clearest thing, Maggie, " said he. "Nothing that has evercome to me in my waking life has been more clear than that. I feel as ifthese hands were sticky with blood. "

"Tell me of it--tell me slow, " said she. 

"When it began, I was oot on a braeside. I was laying flat on theground. It was rough, and there were clumps of heather. All round me wasjust darkness, but I could hear the rustle and the breathin' of men. There seemed a great multitude on every side of me, but I could see noone. There was a low chink of steel sometimes, and then a number ofvoices would whisper 'Hush!' I had a ragged club in my hand, and it hadspikes o' iron near the end of it. My heart was beatin' quickly, and Ifelt that a moment of great danger and excitement was at hand. Once Idropped my club, and again from all round me the voices in the darknesscried, 'Hush!' I put oot my hand, and it touched the foot of another manlying in front of me. There was some one at my very elbow on eitherside. But they said nothin'. 

"Then we all began to move. The whole braeside seemed to be crawlin'downwards. There was a river at the bottom and a high-arched woodenbridge. Beyond the bridge were many lights--torches on a wall. Thecreepin' men all flowed towards the bridge. There had been no sound ofany kind, just a velvet stillness. And then there was a cry in thedarkness, the cry of a man who had been stabbed suddenly to the hairt. That one cry swelled out for a moment, and then the roar of a thoosandfurious voices. I was runnin'. Every one was runnin'. A bright redlight shone out, and the river was a scarlet streak. I could see mycompanions now. They were more like devils than men, wild figures cladin skins, with their hair and beards streamin'. They were all mad withrage, jumpin' as they ran, their mouths open, their arms wavin', the redlight beatin' on their faces. I ran, too, and yelled out curses like therest. Then I heard a great cracklin' of wood, and I knew that thepalisades were doon. There was a loud whistlin' in my ears, and I wasaware that arrows were flyin' past me. I got to the bottom of a dyke, and I saw a hand stretched doon from above. I took it, and was draggedto the top. We looked doon, and there were silver men beneath us holdin'up their spears. Some of our folk sprang on to the spears. Then weothers followed, and we killed the soldiers before they could draw thespears oot again. They shouted loud in some foreign tongue, but no mercywas shown them. We went ower them like a wave, and trampled them dooninto the mud, for they were few, and there was no end to our numbers. 

"I found myself among buildings, and one of them was on fire. I saw theflames spoutin' through the roof. I ran on, and then I was alone amongthe buildings. Some one ran across in front o' me. It was a woman. Icaught her by the arm, and I took her chin and turned her face so as thelight of the fire would strike it. Whom think you that it was, Maggie?"

His wife moistened her dry lips. "It was I, " she said. 

He looked at her in surprise. "That's a good guess, " said he. "Yes, itwas just you. Not merely like you, you understand. It was you--youyourself. I saw the same soul in your frightened eyes. You looked whiteand bonnie and wonderful in the firelight. I had just one thought in myhead--to get you awa' with me; to keep you all to mysel' in my own homesomewhere beyond the hills. You clawed at my face with your nails. Iheaved you over my shoulder, and I tried to find a way oot of the lightof the burning hoose and back into the darkness. 

"Then came the thing that I mind best of all. You're ill, Maggie. ShallI stop? My God! you have the very look on your face that you had lastnight in my dream. You screamed. He came runnin' in the firelight. Hishead was bare; his hair was black and curled; he had a naked sword inhis hand, short and broad, little more than a dagger. He stabbed at me, but he tripped and fell. I held you with one hand, and with theother----"

His wife had sprung to her feet with writhing features. 

"Marcus!" she cried. "My beautiful Marcus! Oh, you brute! you brute! youbrute!" There was a clatter of tea-cups as she fell forward senselessupon the table. 

 * * * * *

They never talk about that strange isolated incident in their marriedlife. For an instant the curtain of the past had swung aside, and somestrange glimpse of a forgotten life had come to them. But it closeddown, never to open again. They live their narrow round--he in his shop, she in her household--and yet new and wider horizons have vaguely formedthemselves around them since that summer evening by the crumbling Romanfort. 

IV

THE COMING OF THE HUNS

In the middle of the fourth century the state of the Christian religionwas a scandal and a disgrace. Patient, humble, and long-suffering inadversity, it had become positive, aggressive, and unreasonable withsuccess. Paganism was not yet dead, but it was rapidly sinking, findingits most faithful supporters among the conservative aristocrats of thebest families on the one hand, and among those benighted villagers onthe other who gave their name to the expiring creed. Between these twoextremes the great majority of reasonable men had turned from theconception of many gods to that of one, and had rejected for ever thebeliefs of their forefathers. But with the vices of polytheism, they hadalso abandoned its virtues, among which toleration and religious goodhumour had been conspicuous. The strenuous earnestness of the Christianshad compelled them to examine and define every point of their owntheology; but as they had no central authority by which such definitionscould be checked, it was not long before a hundred heresies had putforward their rival views, while the same earnestness of conviction ledthe stronger bands of schismatics to endeavour, for conscience sake, toforce their views upon the weaker, and thus to cover the Eastern worldwith confusion and strife. 

Alexandria, Antioch, and Constantinople were centres of theologicalwarfare. The whole north of Africa, too, was rent by the strife of theDonatists, who upheld their particular schism by iron flails and thewar-cry of "Praise to the Lord!" But minor local controversies sank tonothing when compared with the huge argument of the Catholic and theArian, which rent every village in twain, and divided every householdfrom the cottage to the palace. The rival doctrines of the Homoousianand of the Homoiousian, containing metaphysical differences soattenuated that they could hardly be stated, turned bishop againstbishop and congregation against congregation. The ink of the theologiansand the blood of the fanatics were spilled in floods on either side, and gentle followers of Christ were horrified to find that their faithwas responsible for such a state of riot and bloodshed as had never yetdisgraced the religious history of the world. Many of the more earnestamong them, shocked and scandalised, slipped away to the Libyan Desert, or to the solitude of Pontus, there to await in self-denial and prayerthat second coming which was supposed to be at hand. Even in the desertsthey could not escape the echo of the distant strife, and the hermitsthemselves scowled fiercely from their dens at passing travellers whomight be contaminated by the doctrines of Athanasius or of Arius. 

Such a hermit was Simon Melas, of whom I write. A Trinitarian and aCatholic, he was shocked by the excesses of the persecution of theArians, which could be only matched by the similar outrages with whichthese same Arians in the day of their power avenged their treatment ontheir brother Christians. Weary of the whole strife, and convinced thatthe end of the world was indeed at hand, he left his home inConstantinople and travelled as far as the Gothic settlements in Dacia, beyond the Danube, in search of some spot where he might be free fromthe never-ending disputes. Still journeying to the north and east, hecrossed the river which we now call the Dniester, and there, finding arocky hill rising from an immense plain, he formed a cell near itssummit, and settled himself down to end his life in self-denial andmeditation. There were fish in the stream, the country teemed with game, and there was an abundance of wild fruits, so that his spiritualexercises were not unduly interrupted by the search of sustenance forhis mortal frame. 

In this distant retreat he expected to find absolute solitude, but thehope was in vain. Within a week of his arrival, in an hour of worldlycuriosity, he explored the edges of the high rocky hill upon which helived. Making his way up to a cleft, which was hung with olives andmyrtles, he came upon a cave in the opening of which sat an aged man, white-bearded, white-haired, and infirm--a hermit like himself. So longhad this stranger been alone that he had almost forgotten the use of histongue; but at last, words coming more freely, he was able to convey theinformation that his name was Paul of Nicopolis, that he was a Greekcitizen, and that he also had come out into the desert for the saving ofhis soul, and to escape from the contamination of heresy. 

"Little I thought, brother Simon, " said he, "that I should ever find anyone else who had come so far upon the same holy errand. In all theseyears, and they are so many that I have lost count of them, I have neverseen a man, save indeed one or two wandering shepherds far out uponyonder plain. "

From where they sat, the huge steppe, covered with waving grass andgleaming with a vivid green in the sun, stretched away as level and asunbroken as the sea, to the eastern horizon. Simon Melas stared acrossit with curiosity. 

"Tell me, brother Paul, " said he, "you who have lived here so long--whatlies at the further side of that plain?"

The old man shook his head. "There is no further side to the plain, "said he. "It is the earth's boundary, and stretches away to eternity. For all these years I have sat beside it, but never once have I seenanything come across it. It is manifest that if there had been afurther side there would certainly at some time have come some travellerfrom that direction. Over the great river yonder is the Roman post ofTyras; but that is a long day's journey from here, and they have neverdisturbed my meditations. "

"On what do you meditate, brother Paul?"

"At first I meditated on many sacred mysteries; but now, for twentyyears, I have brooded continually on the nature of the Logos. What isyour view upon that vital matter, brother Simon?"

"Surely, " said the younger man, "there can be no question as to that. The Logos is assuredly but a name used by St. John to signify theDeity. "

The old hermit gave a hoarse cry of fury, and his brown, withered facewas convulsed with anger. Seizing the huge cudgel which he kept to beatoff the wolves, he shook it murderously at his companion. 

"Out with you! Out of my cell!" he cried. "Have I lived here so long tohave it polluted by a vile Trinitarian--a follower of the rascalAthanasius? Wretched idolater, learn once for all, that the Logos is intruth an emanation from the Deity, and in no sense equal or co-eternalwith Him! Out with you, I say, or I will dash out your brains with mystaff!"

It was useless to reason with the furious Arian, and Simon withdrew insadness and wonder, that at this extreme verge of the known earth thespirit of religious strife should still break upon the peaceful solitudeof the wilderness. With hanging head and heavy heart he made his waydown the valley, and climbed up once more to his own cell, which lay atthe crown of the hill, with the intention of never again exchangingvisits with his Arian neighbour. 

Here, for a year, dwelt Simon Melas, leading a life of solitude andprayer. There was no reason why any one should ever come to thisoutermost point of human habitation. Once a young Roman officer--CaiusCrassus--rode out a day's journey from Tyras, and climbed the hill tohave speech with the anchorite. He was of an equestrian family, andstill held his belief in the old dispensation. He looked with interestand surprise, but also with some disgust, at the ascetic arrangementsof that humble abode. 

"Whom do you please by living in such a fashion?" he asked. 

"We show that our spirit is superior to our flesh, " Simon answered. "Ifwe fare badly in this world, we believe that we shall reap an advantagein the world to come. "

The centurion shrugged his shoulders. "There are philosophers among ourpeople, Stoics and others, who have the same idea. When I was in theHerulian Cohort of the Fourth Legion we were quartered in Rome itself, and I saw much of the Christians, but I could never learn anything fromthem which I had not heard from my own father, whom you, in yourarrogance, would call a Pagan. It is true that we talk of numerous gods;but for many years we have not taken them very seriously. Our thoughtsupon virtue and duty and a noble life are the same as your own. "

Simon Melas shook his head. 

"If you have not the holy books, " said he, "then what guide have you todirect your steps?"

"If you will read our philosophers, and above all the divine Plato, youwill find that there are other guides who may take you to the same end. Have you by chance read the book which was written by our Emperor MarcusAurelius? Do you not discover there every virtue which man could have, although he knew nothing of your creed? Have you considered, also, thewords and actions of our late Emperor Julian, with whom I served myfirst campaign when he went out against the Persians? Where could youfind a more perfect man than he?"

"Such talk is unprofitable, and I will have no more of it, " said Simonsternly. "Take heed while there is time, and embrace the true faith; forthe end of the world is at hand, and when it comes there will be nomercy for those who have shut their eyes to the light. " So saying, heturned back once more to his praying-stool and to his crucifix, whilethe young Roman walked in deep thought down the hill, and mounting hishorse, rode off to his distant post. Simon watched him until his brazenhelmet was but a bead of light on the western edge of the great plain;for this was the first human face that he had seen in all this longyear, and there were times when his heart yearned for the voices and thefaces of his kind. 

So another year passed, and save for the change of weather and the slowchange of the seasons, one day was as another. Every morning when Simonopened his eyes, he saw the same grey line ripening into red in thefurthest east, until the bright rim pushed itself above that far-offhorizon across which no living creature had ever been known to come. Slowly the sun swept across the huge arch of the heavens, and as theshadows shifted from the black rocks which jutted upward from above hiscell, so did the hermit regulate his terms of prayer and meditation. There was nothing on earth to draw his eye, or to distract his mind, forthe grassy plain below was as void from month to month as the heavenabove. So the long hours passed, until the red rim slipped down on thefurther side, and the day ended in the same pearl-grey shimmer withwhich it had begun. Once two ravens circled for some days round thelonely hill, and once a white fish-eagle came from the Dniester andscreamed above the hermit's head. Sometimes red dots were seen on thegreen plain where the antelopes grazed, and often a wolf howled in thedarkness from the base of the rocks. Such was the uneventful life ofSimon Melas the anchorite, until there came the day of wrath. 

It was in the late spring of the year 375 that Simon came out from hiscell, his gourd in his hand, to draw water from the spring. Darkness hadclosed in, the sun had set, but one last glimmer of rosy light restedupon a rocky peak, which jutted forth from the hill, on the further sidefrom the hermit's dwelling. As Simon came forth from under his ledge, the gourd dropped from his hand, and he stood gazing in amazement. 

On the opposite peak a man was standing, his outline black in the fadinglight. He was a strange, almost a deformed figure, short-statured, round-backed, with a large head, no neck, and a long rod jutting outfrom between his shoulders. He stood with his face advanced, and hisbody bent, peering very intently over the plain to the westward. In amoment he was gone, and the lonely black peak showed up hard and nakedagainst the faint eastern glimmer. Then the night closed down, and allwas black once more. 

Simon Melas stood long in bewilderment, wondering who this strangercould be. He had heard, as had every Christian, of those evil spiritswhich were wont to haunt the hermits in the Thebaid and on the skirts ofthe Ethiopian waste. The strange shape of this solitary creature, itsdark outline and prowling, intent attitude, suggestive rather of afierce, rapacious beast than of a man, all helped him to believe that hehad at last encountered one of those wanderers from the pit, of whoseexistence, in those days of robust faith, he had no more doubt than ofhis own. Much of the night he spent in prayer, his eyes glancingcontinually at the low arch of his cell door, with its curtain of deeppurple wrought with stars. At any instant some crouching monster, somehorned abomination, might peer in upon him, and he clung with frenziedappeal to his crucifix, as his human weakness quailed at the thought. But at last his fatigue overcame his fears, and falling upon his couchof dried grass, he slept until the bright daylight brought him to hissenses. 

It was later than was his wont, and the sun was far above the horizon. As he came forth from his cell, he looked across at the peak of rock, but it stood there bare and silent. Already it seemed to him that thatstrange dark figure which had startled him so was some dream, somevision of the twilight. His gourd lay where it had fallen, and he pickedit up with the intention of going to the spring. But suddenly he wasaware of something new. The whole air was throbbing with sound. From allsides it came, rumbling, indefinite, an inarticulate mutter, low, butthick and strong, rising, falling, reverberating among the rocks, dyingaway into vague whispers, but always there. He looked round at the blue, cloudless sky in bewilderment. Then he scrambled up the rocky pinnacleabove him, and sheltering himself in its shadow, he stared out over theplain. In his wildest dream he had never imagined such a sight. 

The whole vast expanse was covered with horsemen, hundreds and thousandsand tens of thousands, all riding slowly and in silence, out of theunknown east. It was the multitudinous beat of their horses' hoofswhich caused that low throbbing in his ears. Some were so close to himas he looked down upon them that he could see clearly their thin, wiryhorses, and the strange humped figures of their swarthy riders, sittingforward on the withers, shapeless bundles, their short legs hangingstirrupless, their bodies balanced as firmly as though they were part ofthe beast. In those nearest he could see the bow and the quiver, thelong spear and the short sword, with the coiled lasso behind the rider, which told that this was no helpless horde of wanderers, but aformidable army upon the march. His eyes passed on from them and sweptfurther and further, but still to the very horizon, which quivered withmovement, there was no end to this monstrous cavalry. Already thevanguard was far past the island of rock upon which he dwelt, and hecould now understand that in front of this vanguard were single scoutswho guided the course of the army, and that it was one of these whom hehad seen the evening before. 

All day, held spell-bound by this wonderful sight, the hermit crouchedin the shadow of the rocks, and all day the sea of horsemen rolledonward over the plain beneath. Simon had seen the swarming quays ofAlexandria, he had watched the mob which blocked the hippodrome ofConstantinople, yet never had he imagined such a multitude as nowdefiled beneath his eyes, coming from that eastern skyline which hadbeen the end of his world. Sometimes the dense streams of horsemen werebroken by droves of brood-mares and foals, driven along by mountedguards; sometimes there were herds of cattle; sometimes there were linesof waggons with skin canopies above them; but then once more, afterevery break, came the horsemen, the horsemen, the hundreds and thethousands and the tens of thousands, slowly, ceaselessly, silentlydrifting from the east to the west. The long day passed, the lightwaned, and the shadows fell, but still the great broad stream wasflowing by. 

But the night brought a new and even stranger sight. Simon had markedbundles of faggots upon the backs of many of the led horses, and now hesaw their use. All over the great plain, red pin-points gleamed throughthe darkness, which grew and brightened into flickering columns offlame. So far as he could see both to east and west the fires extended, until they were but points of light in the furthest distance. Whitestars shone in the vast heavens above, red ones in the great plainbelow. And from every side rose the low, confused murmur of voices, withthe lowing of oxen and the neighing of horses. 

Simon had been a soldier and a man of affairs before ever he forsook theworld, and the meaning of all that he had seen was clear to him. Historytold him how the Roman world had ever been assailed by fresh swarms ofBarbarians, coming from the outer darkness, and that the eastern Empirehad already, in its fifty years of existence since Constantine had movedthe capital of the world to the shores of the Bosphorus, been tormentedin the same way. Gepidæ and Heruli, Ostrogoths and Sarmatians, he wasfamiliar with them all. What the advanced sentinel of Europe had seenfrom this lonely outlying hill, was a fresh swarm breaking in upon theEmpire, distinguished only from the others by its enormous, incrediblesize and by the strange aspect of the warriors who composed it. He aloneof all civilised men knew of the approach of this dreadful shadow, sweeping like a heavy storm cloud from the unknown depths of the east. He thought of the little Roman posts along the Dniester, of the ruinedDacian wall of Trajan behind them, and then of the scattered, defenceless villages which lay with no thought of danger over all theopen country which stretched down to the Danube. Could he but give themthe alarm! Was it not, perhaps, for that very end that God had guidedhim to the wilderness?

Then suddenly he remembered his Arian neighbour, who dwelt in the cavebeneath him. Once or twice during the last year he had caught a glimpseof his tall, bent figure hobbling round to examine the traps which helaid for quails and partridges. On one occasion they had met at thebrook; but the old theologian waved him away as if he were a leper. Whatdid he think now of this strange happening? Surely their differencesmight be forgotten at such a moment. He stole down the side of the hill, and made his way to his fellow-hermit's cave. 

But there was a terrible silence as he approached it. His heart sank atthat deadly stillness in the little valley. No glimmer of light camefrom the cleft in the rocks. He entered and called, but no answer cameback. Then, with flint, steel, and the dry grass which he used fortinder, he struck a spark, and blew it into a blaze. The old hermit, hiswhite hair dabbled with crimson, lay sprawling across the floor. Thebroken crucifix, with which his head had been beaten in, lay insplinters across him. Simon had dropped on his knees beside him, straightening his contorted limbs, and muttering the office for thedead, when the thud of a horse's hoofs was heard ascending the littlevalley which led to the hermit's cell. The dry grass had burned down, and Simon crouched trembling in the darkness, pattering prayers to theVirgin that his strength might be upheld. 

It may have been that the new-comer had seen the gleam of the light, orit may have been that he had heard from his comrades of the old man whomthey had murdered, and that his curiosity had led him to the spot. Hestopped his horse outside the cave, and Simon, lurking in the shadowswithin, had a fair view of him in the moonlight. He slipped from hissaddle, fastened the bridle to a root, and then stood peering throughthe opening of the cell. He was a very short, thick man, with a darkface, which was gashed with three cuts upon either side. His small eyeswere sunk deep in his head, showing like black holes in the heavy, flat, hairless face. His legs were short and very bandy, so that he waddleduncouthly as he walked. 

Simon crouched in the darkest angle, and he gripped in his hand thatsame knotted cudgel which the dead theologian had once raised againsthim. As that hideous stooping head advanced into the darkness of thecell, he brought the staff down upon it with all the strength of hisright arm, and then, as the stricken savage fell forward upon his face, he struck madly again and again, until the shapeless figure lay limp andstill. One roof covered the first slain of Europe and of Asia. 

Simon's veins were throbbing and quivering with the unwonted joy ofaction. All the energy stored up in those years of repose came in aflood at this moment of need. Standing in the darkness of the cell, hesaw, as in a map of fire, the outlines of the great Barbaric host, theline of the river, the position of the settlements, the means by whichthey might be warned. Silently he waited in the shadow until the moonhad sunk. Then he flung himself upon the dead man's horse, guided itdown the gorge, and set forth at a gallop across the plain. 

There were fires on every side of him, but he kept clear of the rings oflight. Round each he could see, as he passed, the circle of sleepingwarriors, with the long lines of picketed horses. Mile after mile andleague after league stretched that huge encampment. And then, at last, he had reached the open plain which led to the river, and the fires ofthe invaders were but a dull smoulder against the black eastern sky. Ever faster and faster he sped across the steppe, like a singlefluttered leaf which whirls before the storm. Even as the dawn whitenedthe sky behind him, it gleamed also upon the broad river in front, andhe flogged his weary horse through the shallows, until he plunged intoits full yellow tide. 

 * * * * *

So it was that, as the young Roman centurion--Caius Crassus--made hismorning round in the fort of Tyras he saw a single horseman, who rodetowards him from the river. Weary and spent, drenched with water andcaked with dirt and sweat, both horse and man were at the last stage oftheir endurance. With amazement the Roman watched their progress, andrecognised in the ragged, swaying figure, with flying hair and staringeyes, the hermit of the eastern desert. He ran to meet him, and caughthim in his arms as he reeled from the saddle. 

"What is it, then?" he asked. "What is your news?"

But the hermit could only point at the rising sun. "To arms!" hecroaked. "To arms! The day of wrath is come!" And as he looked, theRoman saw--far across the river--a great dark shadow, which moved slowlyover the distant plain. 

V

THE CONTEST

In the year of our Lord 66, the Emperor Nero, being at that time in thetwenty-ninth year of his life and the thirteenth of his reign, set sailfor Greece with the strangest company and the most singular design thatany monarch has ever entertained. With ten galleys he went forth fromPuteoli, carrying with him great stores of painted scenery andtheatrical properties, together with a number of knights and senators, whom he feared to leave behind him at Rome, and who were all marked fordeath in the course of his wanderings. In his train he took Natus, hissinging coach; Cluvius, a man with a monstrous voice, who should bawlout his titles; and a thousand trained youths who had learned to applaudin unison whenever their master sang or played in public. So deftly hadthey been taught that each had his own rôle to play. Some did no morethan give forth a low deep hum of speechless appreciation. Some clappedwith enthusiasm. Some, rising from approbation into absolute frenzy, shrieked, stamped, and beat sticks upon the benches. Some--and they werethe most effective--had learned from an Alexandrian a long droningmusical note which they all uttered together, so that it boomed over theassembly. With the aid of these mercenary admirers, Nero had every hope, in spite of his indifferent voice and clumsy execution, to return toRome, bearing with him the chaplets for song offered for freecompetition by the Greek cities. As his great gilded galley with twotiers of oars passed down the Mediterranean, the Emperor sat in hiscabin all day, his teacher by his side, rehearsing from morning to nightthose compositions which he had selected, whilst every few hours aNubian slave massaged the Imperial throat with oil and balsam, that itmight be ready for the great ordeal which lay before it in the land ofpoetry and song. His food, his drink, and his exercise were prescribedfor him as for an athlete who trains for a contest, and the twanging ofhis lyre, with the strident notes of his voice, resounded continuallyfrom the Imperial quarters. 

Now it chanced that there lived in those days a Grecian goatherd namedPolicles, who tended and partly owned a great flock which grazed uponthe long flanks of the hills near Herœa, which is five miles north ofthe river Alpheus, and no great distance from the famous Olympia. Thisperson was noted over all the country-side as a man of strange gifts andsingular character. He was a poet who had twice been crowned for hisverses, and he was a musician to whom the use and sound of an instrumentwere so natural that one would more easily meet him without his staffthan his harp. Even in his lonely vigils on the winter hills he wouldbear it always slung over his shoulder, and would pass the long hours byits aid, so that it had come to be part of his very self. He wasbeautiful also, swarthy and eager, with a head like Adonis, and instrength there was no one who could compete with him. But all was ruinedby his disposition, which was so masterful that he would brook noopposition nor contradiction. For this reason he was continually atenmity with all his neighbours, and in his fits of temper he wouldspend months at a time in his stone hut among the mountains, hearingnothing from the world, and living only for his music and his goats. 

One spring morning, in the year of 67, Policles, with the aid of his boyDorus, had driven his goats over to a new pasturage which overlookedfrom afar the town of Olympia. Gazing down upon it from the mountain, the shepherd was surprised to see that a portion of the famousamphitheatre had been roofed in, as though some performance was beingenacted. Living far from the world and from all news, Policles could notimagine what was afoot, for he was well aware that the Grecian gameswere not due for two years to come. Surely some poetic or musicalcontest must be proceeding of which he had heard nothing. If so, therewould perhaps be some chance of his gaining the votes of the judges; andin any case he loved to hear the compositions and admire the executionof the great minstrels who assembled on such an occasion. Calling toDorus, therefore, he left the goats to his charge, and strode swiftlyaway, his harp upon his back, to see what was going forward in thetown. 

When Policles came into the suburbs, he found them deserted; but he wasstill more surprised when he reached the main street to see no singlehuman being in the place. He hastened his steps, therefore, and as heapproached the theatre he was conscious of a low sustained hum whichannounced the concourse of a huge assembly. Never in all his dreams hadhe imagined any musical competition upon so vast a scale as this. Therewere some soldiers clustering outside the door; but Policles pushed hisway swiftly through them, and found himself upon the outskirts of themultitude who filled the great space formed by roofing over a portion ofthe national stadium. Looking around him, Policles saw a great number ofhis neighbours, whom he knew by sight, tightly packed upon the benches, all with their eyes fixed upon the stage. He also observed that therewere soldiers round the walls, and that a considerable part of the hallwas filled by a body of youths of foreign aspect, with white gowns andlong hair. All this he perceived; but what it meant he could notimagine. He bent over to a neighbour to ask him, but a soldier proddedhim at once with the butt end of his spear, and commanded him fiercelyto hold his peace. The man whom he had addressed, thinking that Policleshad demanded a seat, pressed closer to his neighbour, and so theshepherd found himself sitting at the end of the bench which was nearestto the door. Thence he concentrated himself upon the stage, on whichMetas, a well-known minstrel from Corinth and an old friend of Policles, was singing and playing without much encouragement from the audience. ToPolicles it seemed that Metas was having less than his due, so heapplauded loudly, but he was surprised to observe that the soldiersfrowned at him, and that all his neighbours regarded him with somesurprise. Being a man of strong and obstinate character, he was the moreinclined to persevere in his clapping when he perceived that the generalsentiment was against him. 

But what followed filled the shepherd poet with absolute amazement. WhenMetas of Corinth had made his bow and withdrawn to half-hearted andperfunctory applause, there appeared upon the stage, amid the wildestenthusiasm upon the part of the audience, a most extraordinary figure. He was a short fat man, neither old nor young, with a bull neck and around, heavy face, which hung in creases in front like the dewlap of anox. He was absurdly clad in a short blue tunic, braced at the waist witha golden belt. His neck and part of his chest were exposed, and hisshort, fat legs were bare from the buskins below to the middle of histhighs, which was as far as his tunic extended. In his hair were twogolden wings, and the same upon his heels, after the fashion of the godMercury. Behind him walked a negro bearing a harp, and beside him arichly dressed officer who bore rolls of music. This strange creaturetook the harp from the hands of the attendant, and advanced to the frontof the stage, whence he bowed and smiled to the cheering audience. "Thisis some foppish singer from Athens, " thought Policles to himself, but atthe same time he understood that only a great master of song couldreceive such a reception from a Greek audience. This was evidently somewonderful performer whose reputation had preceded him. Policles settleddown, therefore, and prepared to give his soul up to the music. 

The blue-clad player struck several chords upon his lyre, and thenburst suddenly out into the "Ode of Niobe. " Policles sat straight up onhis bench and gazed at the stage in amazement. The tune demanded a rapidtransition from a low note to a high, and had been purposely chosen forthis reason. The low note was a grunting, a rumble, the deep discordantgrowling of an ill-conditioned dog. Then suddenly the singer threw uphis face, straightened his tubby figure, rose upon his tiptoes, and withwagging head and scarlet cheeks emitted such a howl as the same dogmight have given had his growl been checked by a kick from his master. All the while the lyre twanged and thrummed, sometimes in front of andsometimes behind the voice of the singer. But what amazed Policles mostof all was the effect of this performance upon the audience. Every Greekwas a trained critic, and as unsparing in his hisses as he was lavish inhis applause. Many a singer far better than this absurd fop had beendriven amid execration and abuse from the platform. But now, as the manstopped and wiped the abundant sweat from his fat face, the wholeassembly burst into a delirium of appreciation. The shepherd held hishands to his bursting head, and felt that his reason must be leavinghim. It was surely a dreadful musical nightmare, and he would wake soonand laugh at the remembrance. But no; the figures were real, the faceswere those of his neighbours, the cheers which resounded in his earswere indeed from an audience which filled the theatre of Olympia. Thewhole chorus was in full blast, the hummers humming, the shoutersbellowing, the tappers hard at work upon the benches, while every nowand then came a musical cyclone of "Incomparable! Divine!" from thetrained phalanx who intoned their applause, their united voices sweepingover the tumult as the drone of the wind dominates the roar of the sea. It was madness--insufferable madness! If this were allowed to pass, there was an end of all musical justice in Greece. Policles' consciencewould not permit him to be still. Standing upon his bench with wavinghands and up-raised voice, he protested with all the strength of hislungs against the mad judgment of the audience. 

At first, amid the tumult, his action was hardly noticed. His voice wasdrowned in the universal roar which broke out afresh at each bow andsmirk from the fatuous musician. But gradually the folk round Policlesceased clapping, and stared at him in astonishment. The silence grew inever widening circles, until the whole great assembly sat mute, staringat this wild and magnificent creature who was storming at them from hisperch near the door. 

"Fools!" he cried. "What are you clapping at? What are you cheering? Isthis what you call music? Is this cat-calling to earn an Olympian prize?The fellow has not a note in his voice. You are either deaf or mad, andI for one cry shame upon you for your folly. "

Soldiers ran to pull him down, and the whole audience was in confusion, some of the bolder cheering the sentiments of the shepherd, and otherscrying that he should be cast out of the building. Meanwhile thesuccessful singer, having handed his lyre to his negro attendant, wasenquiring from those around him on the stage as to the cause of theuproar. Finally a herald with an enormously powerful voice steppedforward to the front, and proclaimed that if the foolish person at theback of the hall, who appeared to differ from the opinion of the restof the audience, would come forward upon the platform, he might, if hedared, exhibit his own powers, and see if he could outdo the admirableand wonderful exhibition which they had just had the privilege ofhearing. 

Policles sprang readily to his feet at the challenge, and the greatcompany making way for him to pass, he found himself a minute laterstanding in his unkempt garb, with his frayed and weather-beaten harp inhis hand, before the expectant crowd. He stood for a moment tightening astring here and slackening another there until his chords rang true. Then, amid a murmur of laughter and jeers from the Roman benchesimmediately before him, he began to sing. 

He had prepared no composition, but he had trained himself to improvise, singing out of his heart for the joy of the music. He told of the landof Elis, beloved of Jupiter, in which they were gathered that day, ofthe great bare mountain slopes, of the swift shadows of the clouds, ofthe winding blue river, of the keen air of the uplands, of the chill ofthe evenings, and the beauties of earth and sky. It was all simple andchildlike, but it went to the hearts of the Olympians, for it spoke ofthe land which they knew and loved. Yet when he at last dropped hishand, few of them dared to applaud, and their feeble voices were drownedby a storm of hisses and groans from his opponents. He shrank back inhorror from so unusual a reception, and in an instant his blue-cladrival was in his place. If he had sung badly before, his performance nowwas inconceivable. His screams, his grunts, his discords, and harshjarring cacophonies were an outrage to the very name of music. And yetevery time that he paused for breath or to wipe his streaming forehead afresh thunder of applause came rolling back from the audience. Policlessank his face in his hands and prayed that he might not be insane. Then, when the dreadful performance ceased, and the uproar of admirationshowed that the crown was certainly awarded to this impostor, a horrorof the audience, a hatred of this race of fools, and a craving for thepeace and silence of the pastures mastered every feeling in his mind. Hedashed through the mass of people waiting at the wings, and emerged inthe open air. His old rival and friend Metas of Corinth was waitingthere with an anxious face. 

"Quick, Policles, quick!" he cried. "My pony is tethered behind yondergrove. A grey he is, with red trappings. Get you gone as hard as hoofwill bear you, for if you are taken you will have no easy death. "

"No easy death! What mean you, Metas? Who is the fellow?"

"Great Jupiter! did you not know? Where have you lived? It is Nero theEmperor! Never would he pardon what you have said about his voice. Quick, man, quick, or the guards will be at your heels!"

 * * * * *

An hour later the shepherd was well on his way to his mountain home, andabout the same time the Emperor, having received the Chaplet of Olympiafor the incomparable excellence of his performance, was making enquirieswith a frowning brow as to who the insolent person might be who haddared to utter such contemptuous criticisms. 

"Bring him to me here this instant, " said he, "and let Marcus with hisknife and branding-iron be in attendance. "

"If it please you, great Cæsar, " said Arsenius Platus, the officer ofattendance, "the man cannot be found, and there are some very strangerumours flying about. "

"Rumours!" cried the angry Nero. "What do you mean, Arsenius? I tell youthat the fellow was an ignorant upstart with the bearing of a boor andthe voice of a peacock. I tell you also that there are a good many whoare as guilty as he among the people, for I heard them with my own earsraise cheers for him when he had sung his ridiculous ode. I have half amind to burn their town about their ears so that they may remember myvisit. "

"It is not to be wondered at if he won their votes, Cæsar, " said thesoldier, "for from what I hear it would have been no disgrace had you, even you, been conquered in this contest. "

"I conquered! You are mad, Arsenius. What do you mean?"

"None know him, great Cæsar! He came from the mountains, and hedisappeared into the mountains. You marked the wildness and strangebeauty of his face. It is whispered that for once the great god Pan hascondescended to measure himself against a mortal. "

The cloud cleared from Nero's brow. "Of course, Arsenius! You are right!No man would have dared to brave me so. What a story for Rome! Let themessenger leave this very night, Arsenius, to tell them how theirEmperor has upheld their honour in Olympia this day. "

VI

THE FIRST CARGO

 "Ex ovo omnia"

When you left Britain with your legion, my dear Crassus, I promised thatI would write to you from time to time when a messenger chanced to begoing to Rome, and keep you informed as to anything of interest whichmight occur in this country. Personally, I am very glad that I remainedbehind when the troops and so many of our citizens left, for though theliving is rough and the climate is infernal, still by dint of the threevoyages which I have made for amber to the Baltic, and the excellentprices which I obtained for it here, I shall soon be in a position toretire, and to spend my old age under my own fig tree, or even perhapsto buy a small villa at Baiae or Posuoli, where I could get a goodsun-bath after the continued fogs of this accursed island. I picturemyself on a little farm, and I read the Georgics as a preparation; butwhen I hear the rain falling and the wind howling, Italy seems very faraway. 

In my previous letter I let you know how things were going in thiscountry. The poor folk, who had given up all soldiering during thecenturies that we guarded them, are now perfectly helpless before thesePicts and Scots, tattooed Barbarians from the north, who overrun thewhole country and do exactly what they please. So long as they kept tothe north, the people in the south, who are the most numerous, and alsothe most civilised of the Britons, took no heed of them; but now therascals have come as far as London, and the lazy folk in these partshave had to wake up. Vortigern, the king, is useless for anything butdrink or women, so he sent across to the Baltic to get over some of theNorth Germans, in the hope that they would come and help him. It is badenough to have a bear in your house, but it does not seem to me to mendmatters if you call in a pack of ferocious wolves as well. However, nothing better could be devised, so an invitation was sent and verypromptly accepted. And it is here that your humble friend appears uponthe scene. In the course of my amber trading I had learned the Saxonspeech, and so I was sent down in all haste to the Kentish shore that Imight be there when our new allies came. I arrived there on the very daywhen their first vessel appeared, and it is of my adventures that I wishto tell you. It is perfectly clear to me that the landing of thesewarlike Germans in England will prove to be an event of historicalimportance, and so your inquisitive mind will not feel wearied if Itreat the matter in some detail. 

It was, then, upon the day of Mercury, immediately following the Feastof Our Blessed Lord's Ascension, that I found myself upon the south bankof the river Thames, at the point where it opens into a wide estuary. There is an island there named Thanet, which was the spot chosen for thelandfall of our visitors. Sure enough, I had no sooner ridden up thanthere was a great red ship, the first as it seems of three, coming inunder full sail. The white horse, which is the ensign of these rovers, was hanging from her topmast, and she appeared to be crowded with men. The sun was shining brightly, and the great scarlet ship, withsnow-white sails and a line of gleaming shields slung over her side, made as fair a picture on that blue expanse as one would wish to see. 

I pushed off at once in a boat, because it had been arranged that noneof the Saxons should land until the king had come down to speak withtheir leaders. Presently I was under the ship, which had a gilded dragonin the bows, and a tier of oars along either side. As I looked up, therewas a row of helmeted heads looking down at me, and among them I saw, tomy great surprise and pleasure, that of Eric the Swart, with whom I dobusiness at Venta every year. He greeted me heartily when I reached thedeck, and became at once my guide, friend, and counsellor. This helpedme greatly with these Barbarians, for it is their nature that they arevery cold and aloof unless one of their own number can vouch for you, after which they are very hearty and hospitable. Try as they will, theyfind it hard, however, to avoid a certain suggestion of condescension, and in the baser sort, of contempt, when they are dealing with aforeigner. 

It was a great stroke of luck meeting Eric, for he was able to give mesome idea of how things stood before I was shown into the presence ofKenna, the leader of this particular ship. The crew, as I learned fromhim, was entirely made up of three tribes or families--those of Kenna, of Lanc, and of Hasta. Each of these tribes gets its name by putting theletters "ing" after the name of the chief, so that the people on boardwould describe themselves as Kennings, Lancings, and Hastings. Iobserved in the Baltic that the villages were named after the family wholived in them, each keeping to itself, so that I have no doubt that ifthese fellows get a footing on shore, we shall see settlements withnames like these rising up among the British towns. 

The greater part of the men were sturdy fellows with red, yellow, orbrown hair, mostly the latter. To my surprise, I saw several women amongthem. Eric, in answer to my question, explained that they always taketheir women with them so far as they can, and that instead of findingthem an encumbrance as our Roman dames would be, they look upon them ashelpmates and advisers. Of course, I remembered afterwards that ourexcellent and accurate Tacitus has remarked upon this characteristic ofthe Germans. All laws in the tribes are decided by votes, and a votehas not yet been given to the women, but many are in favour of it, andit is thought that woman and man may soon have the same power in theState, though many of the women themselves are opposed to such aninnovation. I observed to Eric that it was fortunate there were severalwomen on board, as they could keep each other company; but he answeredthat the wives of chiefs had no desire to know the wives of the inferiorofficers, and that both of them combined against the more common women, so that any companionship was out of the question. He pointed as hespoke to Editha, the wife of Kenna, a red-faced, elderly woman, whowalked among the others, her chin in the air, taking no more notice thanif they did not exist. 

Whilst I was talking to my friend Eric, a sudden altercation broke outupon the deck, and a great number of the men paused in their work, andflocked towards the spot with faces which showed that they were deeplyinterested in the matter. Eric and I pushed our way among the others, for I was very anxious to see as much as I could of the ways andmanners of these Barbarians. A quarrel had broken out about a child, alittle blue-eyed fellow with curly yellow hair, who appeared to begreatly amused by the hubbub of which he was the cause. On one side ofhim stood a white-bearded old man, of very majestic aspect, whosignified by his gestures that he claimed the lad for himself, while onthe other was a thin, earnest, anxious person, who strongly objected tothe boy being taken from him. Eric whispered in my ear that the old manwas the tribal high priest, who was the official sacrificer to theirgreat god Woden, whilst the other was a man who took somewhat differentviews, not upon Woden, but upon the means by which he should beworshipped. The majority of the crew were on the side of the old priest;but a certain number, who liked greater liberty of worship, and toinvent their own prayers instead of always repeating the official ones, followed the lead of the younger man. The difference was too deep andtoo old to be healed among the grown men, but each had a great desire toimpress his view upon the children. This was the reason why these twowere now so furious with each other, and the argument between them ranso high that several of their followers on either side had drawn theshort saxes, or knives from which their name of Saxon is derived, when aburly, red-headed man pushed his way through the throng, and in a voiceof thunder brought the controversy to an end. 

"You priests, who argue about the things which no man can know, are moretrouble aboard this ship than all the dangers of the sea, " he cried. "Can you not be content with worshipping Woden, over which we are allagreed, and not make so much of those small points upon which we maydiffer. If there is all this fuss about the teaching of the children, then I shall forbid either of you to teach them, and they must becontent with as much as they can learn from their mothers. "

The two angry teachers walked away with discontented faces; andKenna--for it was he who spoke--ordered that a whistle should besounded, and that the crew should assemble. I was pleased with the freebearing of these people, for though this was their greatest chief, theyshowed none of the exaggerated respect which soldiers of a legion mightshow to the Prætor, but met him on a respectful equality, which showedhow highly they rated their own manhood. 

From our Roman standard, his remarks to his men would seem very wantingin eloquence, for there were no graces nor metaphors to be found inthem, and yet they were short, strong and to the point. At any rate itwas very clear that they were to the minds of his hearers. He began byreminding them that they had left their own country because the land wasall taken up, and that there was no use returning there, since there wasno place where they could dwell as free and independent men. This islandof Britain was but sparsely inhabited, and there was a chance that everyone of them would be able to found a home of his own. 

"You, Whitta, " he said, addressing some of them by name, "you will founda Whitting hame, and you, Bucka, we shall see you in a Bucking hame, where your children and your children's children will bless you for thebroad acres which your valour will have gained for them. " There was noword of glory or of honour in his speech, but he said that he was awarethat they would do their duty, on which they all struck their swordsupon their shields so that the Britons on the beach could hear theclang. Then, his eyes falling upon me, he asked me whether I was themessenger from Vortigern, and on my answering, he bid me follow him intohis cabin, where Lanc and Hasta, the other chiefs, were waiting for acouncil. 

Picture me, then, my dear Crassus, in a very low-roofed cabin, withthese three huge Barbarians seated round me. Each was clad in some sortof saffron tunic, with a chain-mail shirt over it, and a helmet with thehorns of oxen on the sides, laid upon the table before him. Like most ofthe Saxon chiefs, their beards were shaved, but they wore their hairlong and their huge light-coloured moustaches drooped down on to theirshoulders. They are gentle, slow, and somewhat heavy in their bearing, but I can well fancy that their fury is the more terrible when it doesarise. 

Their minds seem to be of a very practical and positive nature, for theyat once began to ask me a series of question upon the numbers of theBritons, the resources of the kingdom, the conditions of its trade, andother such subjects. They then set to work arguing over the informationwhich I had given, and became so absorbed in their own contention that Ibelieve there were times when they forgot my presence. Everything, afterdue discussion, was decided between them by the vote, the one who foundhimself in the minority always submitting, though sometimes with a verybad grace. Indeed, on one occasion Lanc, who usually differed from theothers, threatened to refer the matter to the general vote of the wholecrew. There was a constant conflict in the point of view; for whereasKenna and Hasta were anxious to extend the Saxon power, and to make itgreater in the eyes of the world, Lanc was of opinion that they shouldgive less thought to conquest and more to the comfort and advancement oftheir followers. At the same time it seemed to me that really Lanc wasthe most combative of the three; so much so that, even in time of peace, he could not forego this contest with his own brethren. Neither of theothers seemed very fond of him, for they were each, as was easy to see, proud of their chieftainship, and anxious to use their authority, referring continually to those noble ancestors from whom it wasderived; while Lanc though he was equally well born, took the view ofthe common men upon every occasion, claiming that the interests of themany were superior to the privileges of the few. In a word, Crassus, ifyou could imagine a free-booting Gracchus on one side, and two piraticalPatricians upon the other, you would understand the effect which mycompanions produced upon me. 

There was one peculiarity which I observed in their conversation whichsoothed me very much. I am fond of these Britons, among whom I havespent so much of my life, and I wish them well. It was very pleasing, therefore, to notice that these men insisted upon it in theirconversation that the whole object of their visit was the good of theIslanders. Any prospect of advantage to themselves was pushed into thebackground. I was not clear that these professions could be made toagree with the speech in which Kenna had promised a hundred hides ofland to every man on the ship; but on my making this remark, the threechiefs seemed very surprised and hurt by my suspicions, and explainedvery plausibly that, as the Britons needed them as a guard, they couldnot aid them better than by settling on the soil, and so beingcontinually at hand in order to help them. In time, they said, theyhoped to raise and train the natives to such a point that they would beable to look after themselves. Lanc spoke with some degree of eloquenceupon the nobleness of the mission which they had undertaken, and theothers clattered their cups of mead (a jar of that unpleasant drink wason the table) in token of their agreement. 

I observed also how much interested, and how very earnest and intolerantthese Barbarians were in the matter of religion. Of Christianity theyknew nothing, so that although they were aware that the Britons wereChristians, they had not a notion of what their creed really was. Yetwithout examination they started by taking it for granted that their ownworship of Woden was absolutely right, and that therefore this othercreed must be absolutely wrong. "This vile religion, " "This sadsuperstition, " and "This grievous error" were among the phrases whichthey used towards it. Instead of expressing pity for any one who hadbeen misinformed upon so serious a question, their feelings were thoseof anger, and they declared most earnestly that they would spare nopains to set the matter right, fingering the hilts of their longbroadswords as they did so. 

Well, my dear Crassus, you will have had enough of me and of my Saxons. I have given you a short sketch of these people and their ways. Since Ibegan this letter, I have visited the two other ships which have comein, and as I find the same characteristics among the people on boardthem, I cannot doubt that they lie deeply in the race. For the rest, they are brave, hardy, and very pertinacious in all that they undertake;whereas the Britons, though a great deal more spirited, have not thesame steadiness of purpose, their quicker imaginations suggesting alwayssome other course, and their more fiery passions being succeeded byreaction. When I looked from the deck of the first Saxon ship, and sawthe swaying excited multitude of Britons on the beach, contrasting themwith the intent, silent men who stood beside me, it seemed to me morethan ever dangerous to call in such allies. So strongly did I feel itthat I turned to Kenna, who was also looking towards the beach. 

"You will own this island before you have finished, " said I. 

His eyes sparkled as he gazed. "Perhaps, " he cried; and then suddenlycorrecting himself and thinking that he had said too much, he added--

"A temporary occupation--nothing more. "

VII

AN ICONOCLAST

It was daybreak of a March morning in the year of Christ 92. Outside thelong Semita Alta was already thronged with people, with buyers andsellers, callers and strollers, for the Romans were so early-rising apeople that many a Patrician preferred to see his clients at six in themorning. Such was the good republican tradition, still upheld by themore conservative; but with more modern habits of luxury, a night ofpleasure and banqueting was no uncommon thing. Thus one, who had learnedthe new and yet adhered to the old, might find his hours overlap, andwithout so much as a pretence of sleep come straight from his night ofdebauch into his day of business, turning with heavy wits and an achinghead to that round of formal duties which consumed the life of a Romangentleman. 

So it was with Emilius Flaccus that March morning. He and his fellowsenator, Caius Balbus, had passed the night in one of those gloomydrinking bouts to which the Emperor Domitian summoned his chosen friendsat the high palace on the Palatine. Now, having reached the portals ofthe house of Flaccus, they stood together under the pomegranate-fringedportico which fronted the peristyle and, confident in each other's trieddiscretion, made up by the freedom of their criticism for the longself-suppression of that melancholy feast. 

"If he would but feed his guests, " said Balbus, a little red-faced, choleric nobleman with yellow-shot angry eyes. "What had we? Upon mylife, I have forgotten. Plovers' eggs, a mess of fish, some bird orother, and then his eternal apples. "

"Of which, " said Flaccus, "he ate only the apples. Do him the justice toconfess that he takes even less than he gives. At least they cannot sayof him as of Vitellius, that his teeth beggared the empire. "

"No, nor his thirst either, great as it is. That fiery Sabine wine ofhis could be had for a few sesterces the amphora. It is the common drinkof the carters at every wine-house on the country roads. I longed for aglass of my own rich Falernian or the mellow Coan that was bottled inthe year that Titus took Jerusalem. Is it even now too late? Could wenot wash this rasping stuff from our palates?"

"Nay, better come in with me now and take a bitter draught ere you goupon your way. My Greek physician Stephanos has a rare prescription fora morning head. What! Your clients await you? Well, I will see you laterat the Senate house. "

The Patrician had entered his atrium, bright with rare flowers, andmelodious with strange singing birds. At the jaws of the hall, true tohis morning duties, stood Lebs, the little Nubian slave, with snow-whitetunic and turban, a salver of glasses in one hand, whilst in the otherhe held a flask of thin lemon-tinted liquid. The master of the housefilled up a bitter aromatic bumper, and was about to drink it off whenhis hand was arrested by a sudden perception that something was muchamiss in his household. It was to be read all around him--in thefrightened eyes of the black boy, in the agitated face of the keeper ofthe atrium, in the gloom and silence of the little knot of ordinarii, the procurator or major-domo at their head, who had assembled to greettheir master. Stephanos the physician, Cleios the Alexandrine reader, Promus the steward each turned his head away to avoid his master'squestioning gaze. 

"What in the name of Pluto is the matter with you all?" cried the amazedsenator, whose night of potations had left him in no mood for patience. "Why do you stand moping there? Stephanos, Vacculus, is anything amiss?Here, Promus, you are the head of my household. What is it, then? Why doyou turn your eyes away from me?"

The burly steward, whose fat face was haggard and mottled with anxiety, laid his hand upon the sleeve of the domestic beside him. 

"Sergius is responsible for the atrium, my lord. It is for him to tellyou the terrible thing that has befallen in your absence. "

"Nay, it was Datus who did it. Bring him in, and let him explain ithimself, " said Sergius in a sulky voice. 

The patience of the Patrician was at an end. "Speak this instant, yourascal!" he shouted angrily. "Another minute, and I will have youdragged to the ergastulum, where, with your feet in the stocks and thegyves round your wrists, you may learn quicker obedience. Speak, I say, and without delay. "

"It is the Venus, " the man stammered; "the Greek Venus of Praxiteles. "

The senator gave a cry of apprehension and rushed to the corner of theatrium, where a little shrine, curtained off by silken drapery, held theprecious statue, the greatest art treasure of his collection--perhaps ofthe whole world. He tore the hangings aside and stood in speechlessanger before the outraged goddess. The red, perfumed lamp which alwaysburned before her had been spilled and broken; her altar fire had beenquenched, her chaplet had been dashed aside. But worst ofall--insufferable sacrilege!--her own beautiful nude body of glisteningPentelic marble, as white and fair as when the inspired Greek had hewedit out five hundred years before, had been most brutally mishandled. Three fingers of the gracious outstretched hand had been struck off, andlay upon the pedestal beside her. Above her delicate breast a dark markshowed, where a blow had disfigured the marble. Emilius Flaccus, themost delicate and judicious connoisseur in Rome, stood gasping andcroaking, his hand to his throat, as he gazed at his disfiguredmasterpiece. Then he turned upon his slaves, his fury in his convulsedface; but, to his amazement, they were not looking at him, but had allturned in attitudes of deep respect towards the opening of theperistyle. As he faced round and saw who had just entered his house, hisown rage fell away from him in an instant, and his manner became ashumble as that of his servants. 

The new-comer was a man forty-three years of age, clean shaven, with amassive head, large engorged eyes, a small clear-cut nose, and the fullbull neck which was the especial mark of his breed. He had enteredthrough the peristyle with a swaggering, rolling gait, as one who walksupon his own ground, and now he stood, his hands upon his hips, lookinground him at the bowing slaves, and finally at their master, with ahalf-humorous expression upon his flushed and brutal face. 

"Why, Emilius, " said he, "I had understood that your household was thebest-ordered in Rome. What is amiss with you this morning?"

"Nothing could be amiss with us now that Cæsar has deigned to come undermy roof, " said the courtier. "This is indeed a most glad surprise whichyou have prepared for me. "

"It was an afterthought, " said Domitian. "When you and the others hadleft me, I was in no mood for sleep, and so it came into my mind that Iwould have a breath of morning air by coming down to you, and seeingthis Grecian Venus of yours, about which you discoursed so eloquentlybetween the cups. But, indeed, by your appearance and that of yourservants, I should judge that my visit was an ill-timed one. "

"Nay, dear master; say not so. But, indeed, it is truth that I was introuble at the moment of your welcome entrance, and this trouble was, asthe Fates have willed it, brought forth by that very statue in which youhave been graciously pleased to show your interest. There it stands, andyou can see for yourself how rudely it has been mishandled. "

"By Pluto and all the nether gods, if it were mine some of you shouldfeed the lampreys, " said the Emperor, looking round with his fierceeyes at the shrinking slaves. "You were always overmerciful, Emilius. Itis the common talk that your catenæ are rusted for want of use. Butsurely this is beyond all bounds. Let me see how you handle the matter. Whom do you hold responsible?"

"The slave Sergius is responsible, since it is his place to tend theatrium, " said Flaccus. "Stand forward, Sergius. What have you to say?"

The trembling slave advanced to his master. "If it please you, sir, themischief has been done by Datus the Christian. "

"Datus! Who is he?"

"The matulator, the scavenger, my lord. I did not know that he belongedto these horrible people, or I should not have admitted him. He camewith his broom to brush out the litter of the birds. His eyes fell uponthe Venus, and in an instant he had rushed upon her and struck her twoblows with his wooden besom. Then we fell upon him and dragged him away. But alas! alas! it was too late, for already the wretch had dashed offthe fingers of the goddess. "

The Emperor smiled grimly, while the Patrician's thin face grew palewith anger. 

"Where is the fellow?" he asked. 

"In the ergastulum, your honour, with the furca on his neck. "

"Bring him hither and summon the household. "

A few minutes later the whole back of the atrium was thronged by themotley crowd who ministered to the household needs of a great Romannobleman. There was the arcarius, or account keeper, with his stylumbehind his ear; the sleek prægustator, who sampled all foods, so as tostand between his master and poison, and beside him his predecessor, nowa half-witted idiot through the interception twenty years before of adatura draught from Canidia; the cellar-man, summoned from amongst hisamphoræ; the cook, with his basting-ladle in his hand; the pompousnomenclator, who ushered the guests; the cubicularius, who saw to theiraccommodation; the silentiarius, who kept order in the house; thestructor, who set forth the tables; the carptor, who carved the food;the cinerarius, who lit the fires--these and many more, half-curious, half-terrified, came to the judging of Datus. Behind them a chattering, giggling swarm of Lalages, Marias, Cerusas, and Amaryllides, from thelaundries and the spinning-rooms, stood upon their tiptoes, and extendedtheir pretty wondering faces over the shoulders of the men. Through thiscrowd came two stout varlets leading the culprit between them. He was asmall, dark, rough-headed man, with an unkempt beard and wild eyes whichshone brightly with strong inward emotion. His hands were bound behindhim, and over his neck was the heavy wooden collar or furca which wasplaced upon refractory slaves. A smear of blood across his cheek showedthat he had not come uninjured from the preceding scuffle. 

"Are you Datus the scavenger?" asked the Patrician. 

The man drew himself up proudly. "Yes, " said he, "I am Datus. "

"Did you do this injury to my statue?"

"Yes, I did. "

There was an uncompromising boldness in the man's reply which compelledrespect. The wrath of his master became tinged with interest. 

"Why did you do this?" he asked. 

"Because it was my duty. "

"Why, then, was it your duty to destroy your master's property?"

"Because I am a Christian. " His eyes blazed suddenly out of his darkface. "Because there is no God but the one eternal, and all else aresticks and stones. What has this naked harlot to do with Him to whom thegreat firmament is but a garment and the earth a footstool? It was inHis service that I have broken your statue. "

Domitian looked with a smile at the Patrician. "You will make nothing ofhim, " said he. "They speak even so when they stand before the lions inthe arena. As to argument, not all the philosophers of Rome can breakthem down. Before my very face they refuse to sacrifice in my honour. Never were such impossible people to deal with. I should take a shortway with him if I were you. "

"What would Cæsar advise?"

"There are the games this afternoon. I am showing the newhunting-leopard which King Juba has sent from Numidia. This slave maygive us some sport when he finds the hungry beast sniffing at hisheels. "

The Patrician considered for a moment. He had always been a father tohis servants. It was hateful to him to think of any injury befallingthem. Perhaps even now, if this strange fanatic would show his sorrowfor what he had done, it might be possible to spare him. At least it wasworth trying. 

"Your offence deserves death, " he said. "What reasons can you give whyit should not befall you, since you have injured this statue, which isworth your own price a hundred times over?"

The slave looked steadfastly at his master. "I do not fear death, " hesaid. "My sister Candida died in the arena, and I am ready to do thesame. It is true that I have injured your statue, but I am able to findyou something of far greater value in exchange. I will give you thetruth and the gospel in exchange for your broken idol. "

The Emperor laughed. "You will do nothing with him, Emilius, " he said. "I know his breed of old. He is ready to die; he says so himself. Whysave him, then?"

But the Patrician still hesitated. He would make a last effort. 

"Throw off his bonds, " he said to the guards. "Now take the furca offhis neck. So! Now, Datus, I have released you to show you that I trustyou. I have no wish to do you any hurt if you will but acknowledge yourerror, and so set a better example to my household here assembled. "

"How, then, shall I acknowledge my error?" the slave asked. 

"Bow your head before the goddess, and entreat her forgiveness for theviolence you have done her. Then perhaps you may gain my pardon aswell. "

"Put me, then, before her, " said the Christian. 

Emilius Flaccus looked triumphantly at Domitian. By kindness and tact hewas effecting that which the Emperor had failed to do by violence. Datuswalked in front of the mutilated Venus. Then with a sudden spring hetore the baton out of the hand of one of his guardians, leaped upon thepedestal, and showered his blows upon the lovely marble woman. With acrack and a dull thud her right arm dropped to the ground. Anotherfierce blow and the left had followed. Flaccus danced and screamed withhorror, while his servants dragged the raving iconoclast from hisimpassive victim. Domitian's brutal laughter echoed through the hall. 

"Well, friend, what think you now?" he cried. "Are you wiser than yourEmperor? Can you indeed tame your Christian with kindness?"

Emilius Flaccus wiped the sweat from his brow. "He is yours, greatCæsar. Do with him as you will. "

"Let him be at the gladiators' entrance of the circus an hour before thegames begin, " said the Emperor. "Now, Emilius, the night has been amerry one. My Ligurian galley waits by the river quay. Come, cool yourhead with a spin to Ostia ere the business of State calls you to theSenate. "

VIII

GIANT MAXIMIN

I: THE COMING OF GIANT MAXIMIN

Many are the strange vicissitudes of history. Greatness has often sunkto the dust, and has tempered itself to its new surrounding. Smallnesshas risen aloft, has flourished for a time, and then has sunk once more. Rich monarchs have become poor monks, brave conquerors have lost theirmanhood, eunuchs and women have overthrown armies and kingdoms. Surelythere is no situation which the mind of man could invent which has nottaken shape and been played out upon the world stage. But of all thestrange careers and of all the wondrous happenings, stranger thanCharles in his monastery, or Justin on his throne, there stands the caseof Giant Maximin, what he attained, and how he attained it. Let me tellthe sober facts of history, tinged only by that colouring to which themore austere historians could not condescend. It is a record as well asa story. 

 * * * * *

In the heart of Thrace some ten miles north of the Rhodope mountains, there is a valley which is named Harpessus, after the stream which runsdown it. Through this valley lies the main road from the east to thewest, and along the road, returning from an expedition against theAlani, there marched, upon the fifth day of the month of June in theyear 210, a small but compact Roman army. It consisted of threelegions--the Jovian, the Cappadocian, and the men of Hercules. Ten turmæof Gallic cavalry led the van, whilst the rear was covered by a regimentof Batavian Horse Guards, the immediate attendants of the EmperorSeptimius Severus, who had conducted the campaign in person. Thepeasants who lined the low hills which fringed the valley looked withindifference upon the long files of dusty, heavily-burdened infantry, but they broke into murmurs of delight at the gold-faced cuirasses andhigh brazen horse-hair helmets of the guardsmen, applauding theirstalwart figures, their martial bearing, and the stately black chargerswhich they rode. A soldier might know that it was the little weary menwith their short swords, their heavy pikes over their shoulders, andtheir square shields slung upon their backs, who were the real terror ofthe enemies of the Empire, but to the eyes of the wondering Thracians itwas this troop of glittering Apollos who bore Rome's victory upon theirbanners, and upheld the throne of the purple-togaed prince who rodebefore them. 

Among the scattered groups of peasants who looked on from a respectfuldistance at this military pageant, there were two men who attracted muchattention from those who stood immediately around them. The one wascommonplace enough--a little grey-headed man, with uncouth dress and aframe which was bent and warped by a long life of arduous toil, goat-driving and wood-chopping, among the mountains. It was theappearance of his youthful companion which had drawn the amazedobservation of the bystanders. In stature he was such a giant as is seenbut once or twice in each generation of mankind. Eight feet and twoinches was his measure from his sandalled sole to the topmost curls ofhis tangled hair. Yet for all his mighty stature there was nothing heavyor clumsy in the man. His huge shoulders bore no redundant flesh, andhis figure was straight and hard and supple as a young pine tree. Afrayed suit of brown leather clung close to his giant body, and a cloakof undressed sheep-skin was slung from his shoulder. His bold blue eyes, shock of yellow hair and fair skin showed that he was of Gothic ornorthern blood, and the amazed expression upon his broad frank face ashe stared at the passing troops told of a simple and uneventful life insome back valley of the Macedonian mountains. 

"I fear your mother was right when she advised that we keep you athome, " said the old man anxiously. "Tree-cutting and wood-carrying willseem but dull work after such a sight as this. "

"When I see mother next it will be to put a golden torque round herneck, " said the young giant. "And you, daddy; I will fill your leatherpouch with gold pieces before I have done. "

The old man looked at his son with startled eyes. "You would not leaveus, Theckla! What could we do without you?"

"My place is down among yonder men, " said the young man. "I was not bornto drive goats and carry logs, but to sell this manhood of mine in thebest market. There is my market in the Emperor's own Guard. Say nothing, daddy, for my mind is set, and if you weep now it will be to laughhereafter. I will to great Rome with the soldiers. "

 * * * * *

The daily march of the heavily laden Roman legionary was fixed at twentymiles; but on this afternoon, though only half the distance had beenaccomplished, the silver trumpets blared out their welcome news that acamp was to be formed. As the men broke their ranks, the reason of theirlight march was announced by the decurions. It was the birthday of Geta, the younger son of the Emperor, and in his honour there would be gamesand a double ration of wine. But the iron discipline of the Roman armyrequired that under all circumstances certain duties should beperformed, and foremost among them that the camp should be made secure. Laying down their arms in the order of their ranks, the soldiers seizedtheir spades and axes, and worked rapidly and joyously until slopingvallum and gaping fossa girdled them round, and gave them safe refugeagainst a night attack. Then in noisy, laughing, gesticulating crowdsthey gathered in their thousands round the grassy arena where the sportswere to be held. A long green hill-side sloped down to a level plain, and on this gentle incline the army lay watching the strife of thechosen athletes who contended before them. They stretched themselves inthe glare of the sunshine, their heavy tunics thrown off, and theirnaked limbs sprawling, wine-cups and baskets of fruit and cakes circlingamongst them, enjoying rest and peace as only those can to whom it comesso rarely. 

The five-mile race was over, and had been won as usual by DecurionBrennus, the crack long-distance champion of the Herculians. Amid theyells of the Jovians, Capellus of the corps had carried off both thelong and the high jump. Big Brebix the Gaul had out-thrown the longguardsman Serenus with the fifty pound stone. Now, as the sun sanktowards the western ridge, and turned the Harpessus to a riband ofgold, they had come to the final of the wrestling, where the pliantGreek, whose name is lost in the nickname of "Python, " was tried outagainst the bull-necked Lictor of the military police, a hairy Hercules, whose heavy hand had in the way of duty oppressed many of thespectators. 

As the two men, stripped save for their loincloths, approached thewrestling-ring, cheers and counter-cheers burst from their adherents, some favouring the Lictor for his Roman blood, some the Greek from theirown private grudge. And then, of a sudden, the cheering died, heads wereturned towards the slope away from the arena, men stood up and peeredand pointed, until finally, in a strange hush, the whole great assemblyhad forgotten the athletes, and were watching a single man walkingswiftly towards them down the green curve of the hill. This hugesolitary figure, with the oaken club in his hand, the shaggy fleeceflapping from his great shoulders, and the setting sun gleaming upon ahalo of golden hair, might have been the tutelary god of the fierce andbarren mountains from which he had issued. Even the Emperor rose fromhis chair and gazed with open-eyed amazement at the extraordinary beingwho approached them. 

The man, whom we already know as Theckla the Thracian, paid no heed tothe attention which he had aroused, but strode onwards, stepping aslightly as a deer, until he reached the fringe of the soldiers. Amidtheir open ranks he picked his way, sprang over the ropes which guardedthe arena, and advanced towards the Emperor, until a spear at his breastwarned him that he must go no nearer. Then he sunk upon his right kneeand called out some words in the Gothic speech. 

"Great Jupiter! Whoever saw such a body of a man!" cried the Emperor. "What says he? What is amiss with the fellow? Whence comes he, and whatis his name?"

An interpreter translated the Barbarian's answer. "He says, great Cæsar, that he is of good blood, and sprung by a Gothic father from a woman ofthe Alani. He says that his name is Theckla, and that he would faincarry a sword in Cæsar's service. "

The Emperor smiled. "Some post could surely be found for such a man, were it but as janitor at the Palatine Palace, " said he to one of thePrefects. "I would fain see him walk even as he is through the forum. Hewould turn the heads of half the women in Rome. Talk to him, Crassus. You know his speech. "

The Roman officer turned to the giant. "Cæsar says that you are to comewith him, and he will make you the servant at his door. "

The Barbarian rose, and his fair cheeks flushed with resentment. 

"I will serve Cæsar as a soldier, " said he, "but I will be house-servantto no man--not even to him. If Cæsar would see what manner of man I am, let him put one of his guardsmen up against me. "

"By the shade of Milo this is a bold fellow!" cried the Emperor. "Howsay you, Crassus? Shall he make good his words?"

"By your leave, Cæsar, " said the blunt soldier, "good swordsmen are toorare in these days that we should let them slay each other for sport. Perhaps if the Barbarian would wrestle a fall----"

"Excellent!" cried the Emperor. "Here is the Python, and here Varus theLictor, each stripped for the bout. Have a look at them, Barbarian, andsee which you would choose. What does he say? He would take them both?Nay then he is either the king of wrestlers or the king of boasters, andwe shall soon see which. Let him have his way, and he has himself tothank if he comes out with a broken neck. "

There was some laughter when the peasant tossed his sheep-skin mantle tothe ground and, without troubling to remove his leathern tunic, advancedtowards the two wrestlers; but it became uproarious when with a quickspring he seized the Greek under one arm and the Roman under the other, holding them as in a vice. Then with a terrific effort he tore them bothfrom the ground, carried them writhing and kicking round the arena, andfinally walking up to the Emperor's throne, threw his two athletes downin front of him. Then, bowing to Cæsar, the huge Barbarian withdrew, andlaid his great bulk down among the ranks of the applauding soldiers, whence he watched with stolid unconcern the conclusion of the sports. 

It was still daylight, when the last event had been decided, and thesoldiers returned to the camp. The Emperor Severus had ordered hishorse, and in the company of Crassus, his favourite prefect, rode downthe winding pathway which skirts the Harpessus, chatting over the futuredispersal of the army. They had ridden for some miles when Severus, glancing behind him, was surprised to see a huge figure which trottedlightly along at the very heels of his horse. 

"Surely this is Mercury as well as Hercules that we have found among theThracian mountains, " said he with a smile. "Let us see how soon ourSyrian horses can out-distance him. "

The two Romans broke into a gallop, and did not draw rein until a goodmile had been covered at the full pace of their splendid chargers. Thenthey turned and looked back; but there, some distance off, still runningwith a lightness and a spring which spoke of iron muscles andinexhaustible endurance, came the great Barbarian. The Roman Emperorwaited until the athlete had come up to them. 

"Why do you follow me?" he asked. 

"It is my hope, Cæsar, that I may always follow you. " His flushed faceas he spoke was almost level with that of the mounted Roman. 

"By the god of war, I do not know where in all the world I could findsuch a servant!" cried the Emperor. "You shall be my own body-guard, the one nearest to me of all. "

The giant fell upon his knee. "My life and strength are yours, " he said. "I ask no more than to spend them for Cæsar. "

Crassus had interpreted this short dialogue. He now turned to theEmperor. 

"If he is indeed to be always at your call, Cæsar, it would be well togive the poor Barbarian some name which your lips can frame. Theckla isas uncouth and craggy a word as one of his native rocks. "

The Emperor pondered for a moment. "If I am to have the naming of him, "said he, "then surely I shall call him Maximus, for there is not such agiant upon earth. "

"Hark you, " said the Prefect. "The Emperor has deigned to give you aRoman name, since you have come into his service. Henceforth you are nolonger Theckla, but you are Maximus. Can you say it after me?"

"Maximin, " repeated the Barbarian, trying to catch the Roman word. 

The Emperor laughed at the mincing accent. "Yes, yes, Maximin let it be. To all the world you are Maximin, the body-guard of Severus. When wehave reached Rome, we will soon see that your dress shall correspondwith your office. Meanwhile march with the guard until you have myfurther orders. "

 * * * * *

So it came about that as the Roman army resumed its march next day, andleft behind it the fair valley of the Harpessus, a huge recruit, clad inbrown leather, with a rude sheep-skin floating from his shoulders, marched beside the Imperial troop. But far away in the wooden farmhouseof a distant Macedonian valley two old country folk wept salt tears, andprayed to the gods for the safety of their boy who had turned his faceto Rome. 

II: THE RISE OF GIANT MAXIMIN

Exactly twenty-five years had passed since the day that Theckla the hugeThracian peasant had turned into Maximin the Roman guardsman. They hadnot been good years for Rome. Gone for ever were the great Imperial daysof the Hadrians and the Trajans. Gone also the golden age of the twoAntonines, when the highest were for once the most worthy and mostwise. It had been an epoch of weak and cruel men. Severus, the swarthyAfrican, a stark grim man had died in far away York, after fighting allthe winter with the Caledonian Highlanders--a race who have ever sinceworn the martial garb of the Romans. His son, known only by hisslighting nickname of Caracalla, had reigned during six years of insanelust and cruelty, before the knife of an angry soldier avenged thedignity of the Roman name. The nonentity Macrinus had filled thedangerous throne for a single year before he also met a bloody end, andmade room for the most grotesque of all monarchs, the unspeakableHeliogabalus with his foul mind and his painted face. He in turn was cutto pieces by the soldiers; and Severus Alexander, a gentle youth, scarceseventeen years of age, had been thrust into his place. For thirteenyears now he had ruled, striving with some success to put some virtueand stability into the rotting Empire, but raising many fierce enemiesas he did so--enemies whom he had not the strength nor the wit to holdin check. 

And Giant Maximin--what of him? He had carried his eight feet of manhoodthrough the lowlands of Scotland and the passes of the Grampians. Hehad seen Severus pass away, and had soldiered with his son. He hadfought in Armenia, in Dacia, and in Germany. They had made him acenturion upon the field when with his hands he plucked out one by onethe stockades of a northern village, and so cleared a path for thestormers. His strength had been the jest and the admiration of thesoldiers. Legends about him had spread through the army, and were thecommon gossip round the camp fires--of his duel with the German axe-manon the Island of the Rhine, and of the blow with his fist that broke theleg of a Scythian's horse. Gradually he had won his way upwards, untilnow, after quarter of a century's service, he was tribune of the fourthlegion and superintendent of recruits for the whole army. The youngsoldier who had come under the glare of Maximin's eyes, or had beenlifted up with one huge hand while he was cuffed by the other, had hisfirst lesson from him in the discipline of the service. 

It was nightfall in the camp of the fourth legion upon the Gallic shoreof the Rhine. Across the moonlit water, amid the thick forests whichstretched away to the dim horizon, lay the wild untamed German tribes. Down on the river bank the light gleamed upon the helmets of the Romansentinels who kept guard along the river. Far away a red point rose andfell in the darkness--a watch-fire of the enemy upon the further shore. 

Outside his tent, beside some smouldering logs, Giant Maximin wasseated, a dozen of his officers around him. He had changed much sincethe day when we first met him in the Valley of the Harpessus. His hugeframe was as erect as ever, and there was no sign of diminution of hisstrength. But he had aged none the less. The yellow tangle of hair wasgone, worn down by the ever-pressing helmet. The fresh young face wasdrawn and hardened, with austere lines wrought by trouble and privation. The nose was more hawk-like, the eyes more cunning, the expression morecynical and more sinister. In his youth, a child would have run to hisarms. Now it would shrink screaming from his gaze. That was whattwenty-five years with the eagles had done for Theckla the Thracianpeasant. 

He was listening now--for he was a man of few words--to the chatter ofhis centurions. One of them, Balbus the Sicilian, had been to the maincamp at Mainz, only four miles away, and had seen the Emperor Alexanderarrive that very day from Rome. The rest were eager at the news, for itwas a time of unrest, and the rumour of great changes was in the air. 

"How many had he with him?" asked Labienus, a black-browed veteran fromthe south of Gaul. "I'll wager a month's pay that he was not so trustfulas to come alone among his faithful legions. "

"He had no great force, " replied Balbus. "Ten or twelve cohorts of thePrætorians and a handful of horse. "

"Then indeed his head is in the lion's mouth, " cried Sulpicius, ahot-headed youth from the African Pentapolis. "How was he received?"

"Coldly enough. There was scarce a shout as he came down the line. "

"They are ripe for mischief, " said Labienus. "And who can wonder, whenit is we soldiers who uphold the Empire upon our spears, while the lazycitizens at Rome reap all of our sowing. Why cannot a soldier have whatthe soldier gains? So long as they throw us our denarius a day, theythink that they have done with us. "

"Aye, " croaked a grumbling old greybeard. "Our limbs, our blood, ourlives--what do they care so long as the Barbarians are held off, andthey are left in peace to their feastings and their circus? Free bread, free wine, free games--everything for the loafer at Rome. For us thefrontier guard and a soldier's fare. "

Maximin gave a deep laugh. "Old Plancus talks like that, " said he; "butwe know that for all the world he would not change his steel plate for acitizen's gown. You've earned the kennel, old hound, if you wish it. Goand gnaw your bone and growl in peace. "

"Nay, I am too old for change. I will follow the eagle till I die. Andyet I had rather die in serving a soldier master than a long-gownedSyrian who comes of a stock where the women are men and the men arewomen. "

There was a laugh from the circle of soldiers, for sedition and mutinywere rife in the camp, and even the old centurion's outbreak could notdraw a protest. Maximin raised his great mastiff head and looked atBalbus. 

"Was any name in the mouths of the soldiers?" he asked in a meaningvoice. 

There was a hush for the answer. The sigh of the wind among the pinesand the low lapping of the river swelled out louder in the silence. Balbus looked hard at his commander. 

"Two names were whispered from rank to rank, " said he. "One was AsceniusPollio, the General. The other was----"

The fiery Sulpicius sprang to his feet waving a glowing brand above hishead. 

"Maximinus!" he yelled. "Imperator Maximinus Augustus!"

Who could tell how it came about? No one had thought of it an hourbefore. And now it sprang in an instant to full accomplishment. Theshout of the frenzied young African had scarcely rung through thedarkness when from the tents, from the watch-fires, from the sentries, the answer came pealing back: "Ave Maximinus! Ave Maximinus Augustus!"From all sides men came rushing, half-clad, wild-eyed, their eyesstaring, their mouths agape, flaming wisps of straw or flaring torchesabove their heads. The giant was caught up by scores of hands, and satenthroned upon the bull-necks of the legionaries. "To the camp!" theyyelled. "To the camp! Hail! Hail to the soldier Cæsar!"

That same night Severus Alexander, the young Syrian Emperor, walkedoutside his Prætorian camp, accompanied by his friend Licinius Probus, the Captain of the Guard. They were talking gravely of the gloomy facesand seditious bearing of the soldiers. A great foreboding of evilweighed heavily upon the Emperor's heart, and it was reflected upon thestern bearded face of his companion. 

"I like it not, " said he. "It is my counsel, Cæsar, that with the firstlight of morning we make our way south once more. "

"But surely, " the Emperor answered, "I could not for shame turn my backupon the danger. What have they against me? How have I harmed them thatthey should forget their vows and rise upon me?"

"They are like children who ask always for something new. You heard themurmur as you rode along the ranks. Nay, Cæsar, fly to-morrow, and yourPrætorians will see that you are not pursued. There may be some loyalcohorts among the legions, and if we join forces----"

A distant shout broke in upon their conversation--a low continued roar, like the swelling tumult of a sweeping wave. Far down the road uponwhich they stood there twinkled many moving lights, tossing and sinkingas they rapidly advanced, whilst the hoarse tumultuous bellowing brokeinto articulate words, the same tremendous words, a thousand-foldrepeated. Licinius seized the Emperor by the wrist and dragged him underthe cover of some bushes. 

"Be still, Cæsar! For your life be still!" he whispered. "One word andwe are lost!"

Crouching in the darkness, they saw that wild procession pass, therushing, screaming figures, the tossing arms, the bearded, distortedfaces, now scarlet and now grey, as the brandished torches waxed orwaned. They heard the rush of many feet, the clamour of hoarse voices, the clang of metal upon metal. And then suddenly, above them all, theysaw a vision of a monstrous man, a huge bowed back, a savage face, grimhawk eyes, that looked out over the swaying shields. It was seen for aninstant in a smoke-fringed circle of fire, and then it had swept on intothe night. 

"Who is he?" stammered the Emperor, clutching at his guardsman's sleeve. "They call him Cæsar. "

"It is surely Maximin the Thracian peasant. " In the darkness thePrætorian officer looked with strange eyes at his master. 

"It is all over, Cæsar. Let us fly together to your tent. "

But even as they went a second shout had broken forth tenfold louderthan the first. If the one had been the roar of the oncoming wave, theother was the full turmoil of the tempest. Twenty thousand voices fromthe camp had broken into one wild shout which echoed through the night, until the distant Germans round their watch-fires listened in wonder andalarm. 

"Ave!" cried the voices. "Ave Maximinus Augustus!"

High upon their bucklers stood the giant, and looked round him at thegreat floor of up-turned faces below. His own savage soul was stirred bythe clamour, but only his gleaming eyes spoke of the fire within. Hewaved his hand to the shouting soldiers as the huntsman waves to theleaping pack. They passed him up a coronet of oak leaves, and clashedtheir swords in homage as he placed it on his head. And then there camea swirl in the crowd before him, a little space was cleared, and thereknelt an officer in the Prætorian garb, blood upon his face, blood uponhis bared forearm, blood upon his naked sword. Licinius too had gonewith the tide. 

"Hail, Cæsar, hail!" he cried, as he bowed his head before the giant. "Icome from Alexander. He will trouble you no more. "

III: THE FALL OF GIANT MAXIMIN

For three years the soldier Emperor had been upon the throne. His palacehad been his tent, and his people had been the legionaries. With them hewas supreme; away from them he was nothing. He had gone with them fromone frontier to the other. He had fought against Dacians, Sarmatians, and once again against the Germans. But Rome knew nothing of him, andall her turbulence rose against a master who cared so little for her orher opinion that he never deigned to set foot within her walls. Therewere cabals and conspiracies against the absent Cæsar. Then his heavyhand fell upon them, and they were cuffed, even as the young soldiershad been who passed under his discipline. He knew nothing, and cared asmuch for consuls, senates, and civil laws. His own will and the power ofthe sword were the only forces which he could understand. Of commerceand the arts he was as ignorant as when he left his Thracian home. Thewhole vast Empire was to him a huge machine for producing the money bywhich the legions were to be rewarded. Should he fail to get that money, his fellow soldiers would bear him a grudge. To watch their intereststhey had raised him upon their shields that night. If city funds had tobe plundered or temples desecrated, still the money must be got. Suchwas the point of view of Giant Maximin. 

But there came resistance, and all the fierce energy of the man, all thehardness which had given him the leadership of hard men, sprang forth toquell it. From his youth he had lived amidst slaughter. Life and deathwere cheap things to him. He struck savagely at all who stood up tohim, and when they hit back, he struck more savagely still. His giantshadow lay black across the Empire from Britain to Syria. A strangesubtle vindictiveness became also apparent in him. Omnipotence ripenedevery fault and swelled it into crime. In the old days he had beenrebuked for his roughness. Now a sullen, dangerous anger rose againstthose who had rebuked him. He sat by the hour with his craggy chinbetween his hands, and his elbows resting on his knees, while herecalled all the misadventures, all the vexations of his early youth, when Roman wits had shot their little satires upon his bulk and hisignorance. He could not write, but his son Verus placed the names uponhis tablets, and they were sent to the Governor of Rome. Men who hadlong forgotten their offence were called suddenly to make most bloodyreparation. 

A rebellion broke out in Africa, but was quelled by his lieutenant. Butthe mere rumour of it set Rome in a turmoil. The Senate found somethingof its ancient spirit. So did the Italian people. They would not be forever bullied by the legions. As Maximin approached from the frontier, with the sack of rebellious Rome in his mind, he was faced with everysign of a national resistance. The country-side was deserted, the farmsabandoned, the fields cleared of crops and cattle. Before him lay thewalled town of Aquileia. He flung himself fiercely upon it, but was metby as fierce a resistance. The walls could not be forced, and yet therewas no food in the country round for his legions. The men were starvingand dissatisfied. What did it matter to them who was Emperor? Maximinwas no better than themselves. Why should they call down the curse ofthe whole Empire upon their heads by upholding him? He saw their sullenfaces and their averted eyes, and he knew that the end had come. 

That night he sat with his son Verus in his tent, and he spoke softlyand gently as the youth had never heard him speak before. He had spokenthus in old days with Paullina, the boy's mother; but she had been deadthese many years, and all that was soft and gentle in the big man hadpassed away with her. Now her spirit seemed very near him, and his ownwas tempered by its presence. 

"I would have you go back to the Thracian mountains, " he said. "I havetried both, boy, and I can tell you that there is no pleasure whichpower can bring which can equal the breath of the wind and the smell ofthe kine upon a summer morning. Against you they have no quarrel. Whyshould they mishandle you? Keep far from Rome and the Romans. OldEudoxus has money, and to spare. He awaits you with two horses outsidethe camp. Make for the valley of the Harpessus, lad. It was thence thatyour father came, and there you will find his kin. Buy and stock ahomestead, and keep yourself far from the paths of greatness and ofdanger. God keep you, Verus, and send you safe to Thrace. "

When his son had kissed his hand and had left him, the Emperor drew hisrobe around him and sat long in thought. In his slow brain he revolvedthe past--his early peaceful days, his years with Severus, his memoriesof Britain, his long campaigns, his strivings and battlings, all leadingto that mad night by the Rhine. His fellow soldiers had loved him then. And now he had read death in their eyes. How had he failed them? Othershe might have wronged, but they at least had no complaint against him. If he had his time again, he would think less of them and more of hispeople, he would try to win love instead of fear, he would live forpeace and not for war. If he had his time again! But there wereshuffling steps, furtive whispers, and the low rattle of arms outsidehis tent. A bearded face looked in at him, a swarthy African face thathe knew well. He laughed, and baring his arm, he took his sword from thetable beside him. 

"It is you, Sulpicius, " said he. "You have not come to cry 'AveImperator Maximin!' as once by the camp fire. You are tired of me, andby the gods I am tired of you, and glad to be at the end of it. Come andhave done with it, for I am minded to see how many of you I can takewith me when I go. "

They clustered at the door of the tent, peeping over each other'sshoulders, and none wishing to be the first to close with that laughing, mocking giant. But something was pushed forward upon a spear point, andas he saw it, Maximin groaned and his sword sank to the earth. 

"You might have spared the boy, " he sobbed. "He would not have hurtyou. Have done with it then, for I will gladly follow him. "

So they closed upon him and cut and stabbed and thrust, until his kneesgave way beneath him and he dropped upon the floor. 

"The tyrant is dead!" they cried. "The tyrant is dead, " and from all thecamp beneath them and from the walls of the beleaguered city the joyouscry came echoing back, "He is dead, Maximin is dead!"

 * * * * *

I sit in my study, and upon the table before me lies a denarius ofMaximin, as fresh as when the triumvir of the Temple of Juno Moneta sentit from the mint. Around it are recorded his resoundingtitles--Imperator Maximinus, Pontifex Maximus, Tribunitia potestate, andthe rest. In the centre is the impress of a great craggy head, a massivejaw, a rude fighting face, a contracted forehead. For all the pompousroll of titles it is a peasant's face, and I see him not as the Emperorof Rome, but as the great Thracian boor who strode down the hill-side onthat far-distant summer day when first the eagles beckoned him to Rome. 

IX

THE RED STAR

The house of Theodosius, the famous eastern merchant, was in the bestpart of Constantinople at the Sea Point which is near the church ofSaint Demetrius. Here he would entertain in so princely a fashion thateven the Emperor Maurice had been known to come privately from theneighbouring Bucoleon palace in order to join in the revelry. On thenight in question, however, which was the fourth of November in the yearof our Lord 630, his numerous guests had retired early, and thereremained only two intimates, both of them successful merchants likehimself, who sat with him over their wine on the marble verandah of hishouse, whence on the one side they could see the lights of the shippingin the Sea of Marmora, and on the other the beacons which marked out thecourse of the Bosphorus. Immediately at their feet lay a narrow straitof water, with the low, dark loom of the Asiatic hills beyond. A thinhaze hid the heavens, but away to the south a single great red starburned sullenly in the darkness. 

The night was cool, the light was soothing, and the three men talkedfreely, letting their minds drift back into the earlier days when theyhad staked their capital, and often their lives, on the ventures whichhad built up their present fortunes. The host spoke of his long journeysin North Africa, the land of the Moors; how he had travelled, keepingthe blue sea ever upon his right, until he had passed the ruins ofCarthage, and so on and ever on until a great tidal ocean beat upon ayellow strand before him, while on the right he could see the high rockacross the waves which marked the Pillars of Hercules. His talk was ofdark-skinned bearded men, of lions, and of monstrous serpents. ThenDemetrius, the Cilician, an austere man of sixty, told how he also hadbuilt up his mighty wealth. He spoke of a journey over the Danube andthrough the country of the fierce Huns, until he and his friends hadfound themselves in the mighty forest of Germany, on the shores of thegreat river which is called the Elbe. His stories were of huge men, sluggish of mind, but murderous in their cups, of sudden midnight broilsand nocturnal flights, of villages buried in dense woods, of bloodyheathen sacrifices, and of the bears and wolves who haunted the forestpaths. So the two elder men capped each other's stories and awoke eachother's memories, while Manuel Ducas, the young merchant of gold andostrich feathers, whose name was already known all over the Levant, satin silence and listened to their talk. At last, however, they calledupon him also for an anecdote, and leaning his cheek upon his elbow, with his eyes fixed upon the great red star which burned in the south, the younger man began to speak. 

"It is the sight of that star which brings a story into my mind, " saidhe. "I do not know its name. Old Lascaris the astronomer would tell meif I asked, but I have no desire to know. Yet at this time of the year Ialways look out for it, and I never fail to see it burning in the sameplace. But it seems to me that it is redder and larger than it was. 

"It was some ten years ago that I made an expedition into Abyssinia, where I traded to such good effect that I set forth on my return withmore than a hundred camel-loads of skins, ivory, gold, spices, and otherAfrican produce. I brought them to the sea-coast at Arsinoe, and carriedthem up the Arabian Gulf in five of the small boats of the country. Finally, I landed near Saba, which is a starting-point for caravans, and, having assembled my camels and hired a guard of forty men from thewandering Arabs, I set forth for Macoraba. From this point, which is thesacred city of the idolaters of those parts, one can always join thelarge caravans which go north twice a year to Jerusalem and thesea-coast of Syria. 

"Our route was a long and weary one. On our left hand was the ArabianGulf, lying like a pool of molten metal under the glare of day, butchanging to blood-red as the sun sank each evening behind the distantAfrican coast. On our right was a monstrous desert which extends, so faras I know, across the whole of Arabia and away to the distant kingdom ofthe Persians. For many days we saw no sign of life save our own long, straggling line of laden camels with their tattered, swarthy guardians. In these deserts the soft sand deadens the footfall of the animals, sothat their silent progress day after day through a scene which neverchanges, and which is itself noiseless, becomes at last like a strangedream. Often as I rode behind my caravan, and gazed at the grotesquefigures which bore my wares in front of me, I found it hard to believethat it was indeed reality, and that it was I, I, Manuel Ducas, wholived near the Theodosian Gate of Constantinople, and shouted for theGreen at the hippodrome every Sunday afternoon, who was there in sostrange a land and with such singular comrades. 

"Now and then, far out at sea, we caught sight of the white triangularsails of the boats which these people use, but as they are all pirates, we were very glad to be safely upon shore. Once or twice, too, by thewater's edge we saw dwarfish creatures--one could scarcely say if theywere men or monkeys--who burrow for homes among the seaweed, drink thepools of brackish water, and eat what they can catch. These are thefish-eaters, the Ichthyophagi, of whom old Herodotus talks--surely thelowest of all the human race. Our Arabs shrank from them with horror, for it is well known that, should you die in the desert, these littlepeople will settle on you like carrion crows, and leave not a boneunpicked. They gibbered and croaked and waved their skinny arms at us aswe passed, knowing well that they could swim far out to sea if weattempted to pursue them; for it is said that even the sharks turn withdisgust from their foul bodies. 

"We had travelled in this way for ten days, camping every evening at thevile wells which offered a small quantity of abominable water. It wasour habit to rise very early and to travel very late, but to halt duringthe intolerable heat of the afternoon, when, for want of trees, we wouldcrouch in the shadow of a sandhill, or, if that were wanting, behind ourown camels and merchandise, in order to escape from the insufferableglare of the sun. On the seventh day we were near the point where oneleaves the coast in order to strike inland to Macoraba. We had concludedour midday halt, and were just starting once more, the sun still beingso hot that we could hardly bear it, when, looking up, I saw aremarkable sight. Standing on a hillock to our right there was a manabout forty feet high, holding in his hand a spear which was the sizeof the mast of a large ship. You look surprised, my friends, and you cantherefore imagine my feelings when I saw such a sight. But my reasonsoon told me that the object in front of me was really a wandering Arab, whose form had been enormously magnified by the strange distortingeffects which the hot air of the desert is able to cause. 

"However, the actual apparition caused more alarm to my companions thanthe imagined one had to me, for with a howl of dismay they shranktogether into a frightened group, all pointing and gesticulating as theygazed at the distant figure. I then observed that the man was not alone, but that from all the sandhills a line of turbaned heads was gazing downupon us. The chief of the escort came running to me, and informed me ofthe cause of their terror, which was that they recognised, by somepeculiarity in their headgear, that these men belonged to the tribe ofthe Dilwas, the most ferocious and unscrupulous of the Bedouin, who hadevidently laid an ambuscade for us at this point with the intention ofseizing our caravan. When I thought of all my efforts in Abyssinia, ofthe length of my journey and of the dangers and fatigues which I hadendured, I could not bear to think of this total disaster coming upon meat the last instant and robbing me not only of my profits, but also ofmy original outlay. It was evident, however, that the robbers were toonumerous for us to attempt to defend ourselves, and that we should bevery fortunate if we escaped with our lives. Sitting upon a packet, therefore, I commended my soul to our blessed Saint Helena, while Iwatched with despairing eyes the stealthy and menacing approach of theArab robbers. 

"It may have been our own good fortune, or it may have been the handsomeoffering of beeswax candles--four to the pound--which I had mentallyvowed to the Blessed Helena, but at that instant I heard a great outcryof joy from among my own followers. Standing up on the packet that Imight have a better view, I was overjoyed to see a long caravan--fivehundred camels at least--with a numerous armed guard, coming along theroute from Macoraba. It is, I need not tell you, the custom of allcaravans to combine their forces against the robbers of the desert, andwith the aid of these new-comers we had become the stronger party. Themarauders recognised it at once, for they vanished as if their nativesands had swallowed them. Running up to the summit of a sandhill, I wasjust able to catch a glimpse of a dust-cloud whirling away across theyellow plain, with the long necks of their camels, the flutter of theirloose garments, and the gleam of their spears breaking out from theheart of it. So vanished the marauders. 

"Presently I found, however, that I had only exchanged one danger foranother. At first I had hoped that this new caravan might belong to someRoman citizen, or at least to some Syrian Christian, but I found that itwas entirely Arab. The trading Arabs who are settled in the numeroustowns of Arabia are, of course, very much more peaceable than theBedouin of the wilderness, those sons of Ishmael of whom we read in HolyWrit. But the Arab blood is covetous and lawless, so that when I sawseveral hundred of them formed in a semi-circle round our camels, looking with greedy eyes at my boxes of precious metals and my packetsof ostrich feathers, I feared the worst. 

"The leader of the new caravan was a man of dignified bearing andremarkable appearance. His age I would judge to be about forty. He hadaquiline features, a noble black beard, and eyes so luminous, sosearching, and so intense that I cannot remember in all my wanderings tohave seen any which could be compared with them. To my thanks andsalutations he returned a formal bow, and stood stroking his beard andlooking in silence at the wealth which had suddenly fallen into hispower. A murmur from his followers showed the eagerness with which theyawaited the order to fall upon the plunder, and a young ruffian, whoseemed to be on intimate terms with the leader, came to his elbow andput the desires of his companions into words. 

"'Surely, oh Reverend One, ' said he, 'these people and their treasurehave been delivered into our hands. When we return with it to the holyplace, who of all the Koraish will fail to see the finger of God whichhas led us?'

"But the leader shook his head. 'Nay, Ali, it may not be, ' he answered. 'This man is, as I judge, a citizen of Rome, and we may not treat him asthough he were an idolater. '

"'But he is an unbeliever, ' cried the youth, fingering a great knifewhich hung in his belt. 'Were I to be the judge, he would lose not onlyhis merchandise, but his life also, if he did not accept the faith. '

"The older man smiled and shook his head. 'Nay, Ali; you are toohot-headed, ' said he, 'seeing that there are not as yet three hundredfaithful in the world, our hands would indeed be full if we were to takethe lives and property of all who are not with us. Forget not, dear lad, that charity and honesty are the very nose-ring and halter of the truefaith. '

"'Among the faithful, ' said the ferocious youth. 

"'Nay, towards every one. It is the law of Allah. And yet'--here hiscountenance darkened, and his eyes shone with a most sinisterlight--'the day may soon come when the hour of grace is past, and woe, then, to those who have not hearkened! Then shall the sword of Allah bedrawn, and it shall not be sheathed until the harvest is reaped. Firstit shall strike the idolaters on the day when my own people and kinsmen, the unbelieving Koraish, shall be scattered, and the three hundred andsixty idols of the Caaba thrust out upon the dung-heaps of the town. Then shall the Caaba be the home and temple of one God only who brooksno rival on earth or in heaven. '

"The man's followers had gathered round him, their spears in theirhands, their ardent eyes fixed upon his face, and their dark featuresconvulsed with such fanatic enthusiasm as showed the hold which he hadupon their love and respect. 

"'We shall be patient, ' said he; 'but some time next year, the yearafter, the day may come when the great angel Gabriel shall bear me themessage that the time of words has gone by, and that the hour of thesword has come. We are few and weak, but if it is His will, who canstand against us? Are you of Jewish faith, stranger?' he asked. 

"I answered that I was not. 

"'The better for you, ' he answered, with the same furious anger in hisswarthy face. 'First shall the idolaters fall, and then the Jews, inthat they have not known those very prophets whom they had themselvesforetold. Then last will come the turn of the Christians, who followindeed a true Prophet, greater than Moses or Abraham, but who havesinned in that they have confounded a creature with the Creator. To eachin turn--idolater, Jew, and Christian--the day of reckoning will come. '

"The ragamuffins behind him all shook their spears as he spoke. Therewas no doubt about their earnestness, but when I looked at theirtattered dresses and simple arms, I could not help smiling to think oftheir ambitious threats, and to picture what their fate would be uponthe day of battle before the battle-axes of our Imperial Guards, or thespears of the heavy cavalry of the Armenian Themes. However, I need notsay that I was discreet enough to keep my thoughts to myself, as I hadno desire to be the first martyr in this fresh attack upon our blessedfaith. 

"It was now evening, and it was decided that the two caravans shouldcamp together--an arrangement which was the more welcome as we were byno means sure that we had seen the last of the marauders. I had invitedthe leader of the Arabs to have supper with me, and after a longexercise of prayer with his followers, he came to join me, but myattempt at hospitality was thrown away, for he would not touch theexcellent wine which I had unpacked for him, nor would he eat any of mydainties, contenting himself with stale bread, dried dates, and water. After this meal we sat alone by the smouldering fire, the magnificentarch of the heavens above us of that deep, rich blue with thosegleaming, clear-cut stars which can only be seen in that dry desert air. Our camp lay before us, and no sound reached our ears save the dullmurmur of the voices of our companions and the occasional shrill cry ofa jackal among the sandhills around us. Face to face I sat with thisstrange man, the glow of the fire beating upon his eager and imperiousfeatures and reflecting from his passionate eyes. It was the strangestvigil, and one which will never pass from my recollection. I have spokenwith many wise and famous men upon my travels, but never with one wholeft the impression of this one. 

"And yet much of his talk was unintelligible to me, though, as you areaware, I speak Arabian like an Arab. It rose and fell in the strangestway. Sometimes it was the babble of a child, sometimes the incoherentraving of a fanatic, sometimes the lofty dreams of a prophet andphilosopher. There were times when his stories of demons, of miracles, of dreams, and of omens, were such as an old woman might tell to pleasethe children of an evening. There were others when, as he talked withshining face of his converse with angels, of the intentions of theCreator, and the end of the universe, I felt as if I were in the companyof some one more than mortal, some one who was indeed the directmessenger of the Most High. 

"There were good reasons why he should treat me with such confidence. Hesaw in me a messenger to Constantinople and to the Roman Empire. Even asSaint Paul had brought Christianity to Europe, so he hoped that I mightcarry his doctrines to my native city. Alas! be the doctrines what theymay, I fear that I am not the stuff of which Pauls are made. Yet hestrove with all his heart during that long Arabian night to bring meover to his belief. He had with him a holy book, written, as he said, from the dictation of an angel, which he carried in tablets of bone inthe nose-bag of a camel. Some chapters of this he read me; but, thoughthe precepts were usually good, the language seemed wild and fanciful. There were times when I could scarce keep my countenance as I listenedto him. He planned out his future movements, and indeed, as he spoke, itwas hard to remember that he was only the wandering leader of an Arabcaravan, and not one of the great ones of the earth. 

"'When God has given me sufficient power, which will be within a fewyears, ' said he, 'I will unite all Arabia under my banner. Then I willspread my doctrine over Syria and Egypt. When this has been done, I willturn to Persia, and give them the choice of the true faith or the sword. Having taken Persia, it will be easy then to overrun Asia Minor, and soto make our way to Constantinople. '

"I bit my lip to keep from laughing. 'And how long will it be beforeyour victorious troops have reached the Bosphorus?' I asked. 

"'Such things are in the hands of God, whose servants we are, ' said he. 'It may be that I shall myself have passed away before these things areaccomplished, but before the days of our children are completed, allthat I have now told you will come to pass. Look at that star, ' headded, pointing to a beautiful clear planet above our heads. 'That isthe symbol of Christ. See how serene and peaceful it shines, like Hisown teaching and the memory of His life. Now, ' he added, turning hisoutstretched hand to a dusky red star upon the horizon--the very one onwhich we are gazing now--'that is my star, which tells of wrath, of war, of a scourge upon sinners. And yet both are indeed stars, and each doesas Allah may ordain. '

"Well, that was the experience which was called to my mind by the sightof this star to-night. Red and angry, it still broods over the south, even as I saw it that night in the desert. Somewhere down yonder thatman is working and striving. He may be stabbed by some brother fanaticor slain in a tribal skirmish. If so, that is the end. But if he lives, there was that in his eyes and in his presence which tells me thatMahomet the son of Abdallah--for that was his name--will testify in somenoteworthy fashion to the faith that is in him. "

X

THE SILVER MIRROR

_Jan. 3. _--This affair of White and Wotherspoon's accounts proves to bea gigantic task. There are twenty thick ledgers to be examined andchecked. Who would be a junior partner? However, it is the first big bitof business which has been left entirely in my hands. I must justify it. But it has to be finished so that the lawyers may have the result intime for the trial. Johnson said this morning that I should have to getthe last figure out before the twentieth of the month. Good Lord! Well, have at it, and if human brain and nerve can stand the strain, I'll winout at the other side. It means office-work from ten to five, and then asecond sitting from about eight to one in the morning. There's drama inan accountant's life. When I find myself in the still early hours, whileall the world sleeps, hunting through column after column for thosemissing figures which will turn a respected alderman into a felon, Iunderstand that it is not such a prosaic profession after all. 

On Monday I came on the first trace of defalcation. No heavy game hunterever got a finer thrill when first he caught sight of the trail of hisquarry. But I look at the twenty ledgers and think of the jungle throughwhich I have to follow him before I get my kill. Hard work--but raresport, too, in a way! I saw the fat fellow once at a City dinner, hisred face glowing above a white napkin. He looked at the little pale manat the end of the table. He would have been pale too if he could haveseen the task that would be mine. 

_Jan. 6. _--What perfect nonsense it is for doctors to prescribe restwhen rest is out of the question! Asses! They might as well shout to aman who has a pack of wolves at his heels that what he wants is absolutequiet. My figures must be out by a certain date; unless they are so, Ishall lose the chance of my lifetime, so how on earth am I to rest? I'lltake a week or so after the trial. 

Perhaps I was myself a fool to go to the doctor at all. But I getnervous and highly-strung when I sit alone at my work at night. It'snot a pain--only a sort of fullness of the head with an occasional mistover the eyes. I thought perhaps some bromide, or chloral, or somethingof the kind might do me good. But stop work? It's absurd to ask such athing. It's like a long distance race. You feel queer at first and yourheart thumps and your lungs pant, but if you have only the pluck to keepon, you get your second wind. I'll stick to my work and wait for mysecond wind. If it never comes--all the same, I'll stick to my work. Twoledgers are done, and I am well on in the third. The rascal has coveredhis tracks well, but I pick them up for all that. 

_Jan. 9. _--I had not meant to go to the doctor again. And yet I have hadto. "Straining my nerves, risking a complete breakdown, even endangeringmy sanity. " That's a nice sentence to have fired off at one. Well, I'llstand the strain and I'll take the risk, and so long as I can sit in mychair and move a pen I'll follow the old sinner's slot. 

By the way, I may as well set down here the queer experience which droveme this second time to the doctor. I'll keep an exact record of mysymptoms and sensations, because they are interesting in themselves--"acurious psycho-physiological study, " says the doctor--and also because Iam perfectly certain that when I am through with them they will all seemblurred and unreal, like some queer dream betwixt sleeping and waking. So now, while they are fresh, I will just make a note of them, if onlyas a change of thought after the endless figures. 

There's an old silver-framed mirror in my room. It was given me by afriend who had a taste for antiquities, and he, as I happen to know, picked it up at a sale and had no notion where it came from. It's alarge thing--three feet across and two feet high--and it leans at theback of a side-table on my left as I write. The frame is flat, aboutthree inches across, and very old; far too old for hall-marks or othermethods of determining its age. The glass part projects, with a bevellededge, and has the magnificent reflecting power which is only, as itseems to me, to be found in very old mirrors. There's a feeling ofperspective when you look into it such as no modern glass can ever give. 

The mirror is so situated that as I sit at the table I can usually seenothing in it but the reflection of the red window curtains. But a queerthing happened last night. I had been working for some hours, very muchagainst the grain, with continual bouts of that mistiness of which I hadcomplained. Again and again I had to stop and clear my eyes. Well, onone of these occasions I chanced to look at the mirror. It had theoddest appearance. The red curtains which should have been reflected init were no longer there, but the glass seemed to be clouded and steamy, not on the surface, which glittered like steel, but deep down in thevery grain of it. This opacity, when I stared hard at it, appeared toslowly rotate this way and that, until it was a thick white cloudswirling in heavy wreaths. So real and solid was it, and so reasonablewas I, that I remember turning, with the idea that the curtains were onfire. But everything was deadly still in the room--no sound save theticking of the clock, no movement save the slow gyration of that strangewoolly cloud deep in the heart of the old mirror. 

Then, as I looked, the mist, or smoke, or cloud, or whatever one maycall it, seemed to coalesce and solidify at two points quite closetogether, and I was aware, with a thrill of interest rather than offear, that these were two eyes looking out into the room. A vagueoutline of a head I could see--a woman's by the hair, but this was veryshadowy. Only the eyes were quite distinct; such eyes--dark, luminous, filled with some passionate emotion, fury or horror, I could not saywhich. Never have I seen eyes which were so full of intense, vivid life. They were not fixed upon me, but stared out into the room. Then as I saterect, passed my hand over my brow, and made a strong conscious effortto pull myself together, the dim head faded in the general opacity, themirror slowly cleared, and there were the red curtains once again. 

A sceptic would say, no doubt, that I had dropped asleep over myfigures, and that my experience was a dream. As a matter of fact, I wasnever more vividly awake in my life. I was able to argue about it evenas I looked at it, and to tell myself that it was a subjectiveimpression--a chimera of the nerves--begotten by worry and insomnia. Butwhy this particular shape? And who is the woman, and what is thedreadful emotion which I read in those wonderful brown eyes? They comebetween me and my work. For the first time I have done less than thedaily tally which I had marked out. Perhaps that is why I have had noabnormal sensations to-night. To-morrow I must wake up, come what may. 

_Jan. 11. _--All well, and good progress with my work. I wind the net, coil after coil, round that bulky body. But the last smile may remainwith him if my own nerves break over it. The mirror would seem to be asort of barometer which marks my brain pressure. Each night I haveobserved that it had clouded before I reached the end of my task. 

Dr. Sinclair (who is, it seems, a bit of a psychologist) was sointerested in my account that he came round this evening to have a lookat the mirror. I had observed that something was scribbled in crabbedold characters upon the metal work at the back. He examined this with alens, but could make nothing of it. "Sanc. X. Pal. " was his finalreading of it, but that did not bring us any further. He advised me toput it away into another room, but, after all, whatever I may see in itis, by his own account, only a symptom. It is in the cause that thedanger lies. The twenty ledgers--not the silver mirror--should be packedaway if I could only do it. I'm at the eighth now, so I progress. 

_Jan. 13. _--Perhaps it would have been wiser after all if I had packedaway the mirror. I had an extraordinary experience with it last night. And yet I find it so interesting, so fascinating, that even now I willkeep it in its place. What on earth is the meaning of it all?

I suppose it was about one in the morning, and I was closing my bookspreparatory to staggering off to bed, when I saw her there in front ofme. The stage of mistiness and development must have passed unobserved, and there she was in all her beauty and passion and distress, asclear-cut as if she were really in the flesh before me. The figure wassmall, but very distinct--so much so that every feature, and everydetail of dress, are stamped in my memory. She is seated on the extremeleft of the mirror. A sort of shadowy figure crouches down beside her--Ican dimly discern that it is a man--and then behind them is cloud, inwhich I see figures--figures which move. It is not a mere picture uponwhich I look. It is a scene in life, an actual episode. She crouches andquivers. The man beside her cowers down. The vague figures make abruptmovements and gestures. All my fears were swallowed up in my interest. It was maddening to see so much and not to see more. 

But I can at least describe the woman to the smallest point. She is verybeautiful and quite young--not more than five-and-twenty, I shouldjudge. Her hair is of a very rich brown, with a warm chestnut shadefining into gold at the edges. A little flat-pointed cap comes to anangle in front and is made of lace edged with pearls. The forehead ishigh, too high perhaps for perfect beauty; but one would not have itotherwise, as it gives a touch of power and strength to what wouldotherwise be a softly feminine face. The brows are most delicatelycurved over heavy eyelids, and then come those wonderful eyes--so large, so dark, so full of overmastering emotion, of rage and horror, contending with a pride of self-control which holds her from sheerfrenzy! The cheeks are pale, the lips white with agony, the chin andthroat most exquisitely rounded. The figure sits and leans forward inthe chair, straining and rigid, cataleptic with horror. The dress isblack velvet, a jewel gleams like a flame in the breast, and a goldencrucifix smoulders in the shadow of a fold. This is the lady whose imagestill lives in the old silver mirror. What dire deed could it be whichhas left its impress there, so that now, in another age, if the spiritof a man be but worn down to it, he may be conscious of its presence?

One other detail: On the left side of the skirt of the black dress was, as I thought at first, a shapeless bunch of white ribbon. Then, as Ilooked more intently or as the vision defined itself more clearly, Iperceived what it was. It was the hand of a man, clenched and knotted inagony, which held on with a convulsive grasp to the fold of the dress. The rest of the crouching figure was a mere vague outline, but thatstrenuous hand shone clear on the dark background, with a sinistersuggestion of tragedy in its frantic clutch. The man isfrightened--horribly frightened. That I can clearly discern. What hasterrified him so? Why does he grip the woman's dress? The answer liesamongst those moving figures in the background. They have broughtdanger both to him and to her. The interest of the thing fascinated me. I thought no more of its relation to my own nerves. I stared and staredas if in a theatre. But I could get no further. The mist thinned. Therewere tumultuous movements in which all the figures were vaguelyconcerned. Then the mirror was clear once more. 

The doctor says I must drop work for a day, and I can afford to do so, for I have made good progress lately. It is quite evident that thevisions depend entirely upon my own nervous state, for I sat in front ofthe mirror for an hour to-night, with no result whatever. My soothingday has chased them away. I wonder whether I shall ever penetrate whatthey all mean? I examined the mirror this evening under a good light, and besides the mysterious inscription "Sanc. X. Pal. , " I was able todiscern some signs of heraldic marks, very faintly visible upon thesilver. They must be very ancient, as they are almost obliterated. Sofar as I could make out, they were three spear-heads, two above and onebelow. I will show them to the doctor when he calls to-morrow. 

_Jan. 14. _--Feel perfectly well again, and I intend that nothing elseshall stop me until my task is finished. The doctor was shown the markson the mirror and agreed that they were armorial bearings. He is deeplyinterested in all that I have told him, and cross-questioned me closelyon the details. It amuses me to notice how he is torn in two byconflicting desires--the one that his patient should lose his symptoms, the other that the medium--for so he regards me--should solve thismystery of the past. He advised continued rest, but did not oppose metoo violently when I declared that such a thing was out of the questionuntil the ten remaining ledgers have been checked. 

_Jan. 17. _--For three nights I have had no experiences--my day of resthas borne fruit. Only a quarter of my task is left, but I must make aforced march, for the lawyers are clamouring for their material. I willgive them enough and to spare. I have him fast on a hundred counts. Whenthey realise what a slippery, cunning rascal he is, I should gain somecredit from the case. False trading accounts, false balance-sheets, dividends drawn from capital, losses written down as profits, suppression of working expenses, manipulation of petty cash--it is afine record!

_Jan. 18. _--Headaches, nervous twitches, mistiness, fullness of thetemples--all the premonitions of trouble, and the trouble came sureenough. And yet my real sorrow is not so much that the vision shouldcome as that it should cease before all is revealed. 

But I saw more to-night. The crouching man was as visible as the ladywhose gown he clutched. He is a little swarthy fellow, with a blackpointed beard. He has a loose gown of damask trimmed with fur. Theprevailing tints of his dress are red. What a fright the fellow is in, to be sure! He cowers and shivers and glares back over his shoulder. There is a small knife in his other hand, but he is far too tremulousand cowed to use it. Dimly now I begin to see the figures in thebackground. Fierce faces, bearded and dark, shape themselves out of themist. There is one terrible creature, a skeleton of a man, with hollowcheeks and eyes sunk in his head. He also has a knife in his hand. Onthe right of the woman stands a tall man, very young, with flaxen hair, his face sullen and dour. The beautiful woman looks up at him inappeal. So does the man on the ground. This youth seems to be thearbiter of their fate. The crouching man draws closer and hides himselfin the woman's skirts. The tall youth bends and tries to drag her awayfrom him. So much I saw last night before the mirror cleared. Shall Inever know what it leads to and whence it comes? It is not a mereimagination, of that I am very sure. Somewhere, some time, this scenehas been acted, and this old mirror has reflected it. But when--where?

_Jan. 20. _--My work draws to a close, and it is time. I feel a tensenesswithin my brain, a sense of intolerable strain, which warns me thatsomething must give. I have worked myself to the limit. But to-nightshould be the last night. With a supreme effort I should finish thefinal ledger and complete the case before I rise from my chair. I willdo it. I will. 

_Feb. 7. _--I did. My God, what an experience! I hardly know if I amstrong enough yet to set it down. 

Let me explain in the first instance that I am writing this in Dr. Sinclair's private hospital some three weeks after the last entry in mydiary. On the night of January 20 my nervous system finally gave way, and I remembered nothing afterwards until I found myself three days agoin this home of rest. And I can rest with a good conscience. My work wasdone before I went under. My figures are in the solicitors' hands. Thehunt is over. 

And now I must describe that last night. I had sworn to finish my work, and so intently did I stick to it, though my head was bursting, that Iwould never look up until the last column had been added. And yet it wasfine self-restraint, for all the time I knew that wonderful things werehappening in the mirror. Every nerve in my body told me so. If I lookedup there was an end of my work. So I did not look up till all wasfinished. Then, when at last with throbbing temples I threw down my penand raised my eyes, what a sight was there!

The mirror in its silver frame was like a stage, brilliantly lit, inwhich a drama was in progress. There was no mist now. The oppression ofmy nerves had wrought this amazing clarity. Every feature, everymovement, was as clear-cut as in life. To think that I, a tiredaccountant, the most prosaic of mankind, with the account-books of aswindling bankrupt before me, should be chosen of all the human race tolook upon such a scene!

It was the same scene and the same figures, but the drama had advanced astage. The tall young man was holding the woman in his arms. Shestrained away from him and looked up at him with loathing in her face. They had torn the crouching man away from his hold upon the skirt of herdress. A dozen of them were round him--savage men, bearded men. Theyhacked at him with knives. All seemed to strike him together. Their armsrose and fell. The blood did not flow from him--it squirted. His reddress was dabbled in it. He threw himself this way and that, purple uponcrimson, like an over-ripe plum. Still they hacked, and still the jetsshot from him. It was horrible--horrible! They dragged him kicking tothe door. The woman looked over her shoulder at him and her mouth gaped. I heard nothing, but I knew that she was screaming. And then, whether itwas this nerve-racking vision before me, or whether, my task finished, all the overwork of the past weeks came in one crushing weight upon me, the room danced round me, the floor seemed to sink away beneath my feet, and I remembered no more. In the early morning my landlady found mestretched senseless before the silver mirror, but I knew nothing myselfuntil three days ago I awoke in the deep peace of the doctor's nursinghome. 

_Feb. 9. _--Only to-day have I told Dr. Sinclair my full experience. Hehad not allowed me to speak of such matters before. He listened with anabsorbed interest. "You don't identify this with any well-known scene inhistory?" he asked, with suspicion in his eyes. I assured him that Iknew nothing of history. "Have you no idea whence that mirror came andto whom it once belonged?" he continued. "Have you?" I asked, for hespoke with meaning. "It's incredible, " said he, "and yet how else canone explain it? The scenes which you described before suggested it, butnow it has gone beyond all range of coincidence. I will bring you somenotes in the evening. "

_Later. _--He has just left me. Let me set down his words as closely as Ican recall them. He began by laying several musty volumes upon my bed. 

"These you can consult at your leisure, " said he. "I have some noteshere which you can confirm. There is not a doubt that what you have seenis the murder of Rizzio by the Scottish nobles in the presence of Mary, which occurred in March, 1566. Your description of the woman isaccurate. The high forehead and heavy eyelids combined with great beautycould hardly apply to two women. The tall young man was her husband, Darnley. Rizzio, says the chronicle, 'was dressed in a loosedressing-gown of furred damask, with hose of russet velvet. ' With onehand he clutched Mary's gown, with the other he held a dagger. Yourfierce, hollow-eyed man was Ruthven, who was new-risen from a bed ofsickness. Every detail is exact. "

"But why to me?" I asked, in bewilderment. "Why of all the human race tome?"

"Because you were in the fit mental state to receive the impression. Because you chanced to own the mirror which gave the impression. "

"The mirror! You think, then, that it was Mary's mirror--that it stoodin the room where the deed was done?"

"I am convinced that it was Mary's mirror. She had been Queen of France. Her personal property would be stamped with the Royal arms. What youtook to be three spear-heads were really the lilies of France. "

"And the inscription?"

"'Sanc. X. Pal. ' You can expand it into Sanctæ Crucis Palatium. Some onehas made a note upon the mirror as to whence it came. It was the Palaceof the Holy Cross. "

"Holyrood!" I cried. 

"Exactly. Your mirror came from Holyrood. You have had one very singularexperience, and have escaped. I trust that you will never put yourselfinto the way of having such another. "

XI

THE HOME-COMING

In the spring of the year 528, a small brig used to run as a passengerboat between Chalcedon on the Asiatic shore and Constantinople. On themorning in question, which was that of the feast of Saint George, thevessel was crowded with excursionists who were bound for the great cityin order to take part in the religious and festive celebrations whichmarked the festival of the Megalo-martyr, one of the most choiceoccasions in the whole vast hagiology of the Eastern Church. The day wasfine and the breeze light, so that the passengers in their holiday moodwere able to enjoy without a qualm the many objects of interest whichmarked the approach to the greatest and most beautiful capital in theworld. 

On the right, as they sped up the narrow strait, there stretched theAsiatic shore, sprinkled with white villages and with numerous villaspeeping out from the woods which adorned it. In front of them, thePrince's Islands, rising as green as emeralds out of the deep sapphireblue of the Sea of Marmora, obscured for the moment the view of thecapital. As the brig rounded these, the great city burst suddenly upontheir sight, and a murmur of admiration and wonder rose from the crowdeddeck. Tier above tier it rose, white and glittering, a hundred brazenroofs and gilded statues gleaming in the sun, with high over all themagnificent shining cupola of Saint Sophia. Seen against a cloudlesssky, it was the city of a dream--too delicate, too airily lovely forearth. 

In the prow of the small vessel were two travellers of singularappearance. The one was a very beautiful boy, ten or twelve years ofage, swarthy, clear-cut, with dark, curling hair and vivacious blackeyes, full of intelligence and of the joy of living. The other was anelderly man, gaunt-faced and grey-bearded, whose stern features were litup by a smile as he observed the excitement and interest with which hisyoung companion viewed the beautiful distant city and the many vesselswhich thronged the narrow strait. 

"See! see!" cried the lad. "Look at the great red ships which sail outfrom yonder harbour. Surely, your holiness, they are the greatest of allships in the world. "

The old man, who was the abbot of the monastery of Saint Nicephorus inAntioch, laid his hand upon the boy's shoulder. 

"Be wary, Leon, and speak less loudly, for until we have seen yourmother we should keep ourselves secret. As to the red galleys they areindeed as large as any, for they are the Imperial ships of war, whichcome forth from the harbour of Theodosius. Round yonder green point isthe Golden Horn, where the merchant ships are moored. But now, Leon, ifyou follow the line of buildings past the great church, you will see along row of pillars fronting the sea. It marks the Palace of theCæsars. "

The boy looked at it with fixed attention. "And my mother is there, " hewhispered. 

"Yes, Leon, your mother the Empress Theodora and her husband the greatJustinian dwell in yonder palace. "

The boy looked wistfully up into the old man's face. 

"Are you sure, Father Luke, that my mother will indeed be glad to seeme?"

The abbot turned away his face to avoid those questioning eyes. 

"We cannot tell, Leon. We can only try. If it should prove that there isno place for you, then there is always a welcome among the brethren ofSaint Nicephorus. "

"Why did you not tell my mother that we were coming, Father Luke? Whydid you not wait until you had her command?"

"At a distance, Leon, it would be easy to refuse you. An Imperialmessenger would have stopped us. But when she sees you, Leon--your eyes, so like her own, your face, which carries memories of one whom sheloved--then, if there be a woman's heart within her bosom, she will takeyou into it. They say that the Emperor can refuse her nothing. They haveno child of their own. There is a great future before you, Leon. When itcomes, do not forget the poor brethren of Saint Nicephorus, who took youin when you had no friend in the world. "

The old abbot spoke cheerily, but it was easy to see from his anxiouscountenance that the nearer he came to the capital the more doubtfuldid his errand appear. What had seemed easy and natural from the quietcloisters of Antioch became dubious and dark now that the golden domesof Constantinople glittered so close at hand. Ten years before, awretched woman, whose very name was an offence throughout the easternworld, where she was as infamous for her dishonour as famous for herbeauty, had come to the monastery gate, and had persuaded the monks totake charge of her infant son, the child of her shame. There he had beenever since. But she, Theodora, the harlot, returning to the capital, hadby the strangest turn of fortune's wheel caught the fancy and finallythe enduring love of Justinian the heir to the throne. Then on the deathof his uncle Justin, the young man had become the greatest monarch uponthe earth, and raised Theodora to be not only his wife and Empress, butto be absolute ruler with powers equal to and independent of his own. And she, the polluted one, had risen to the dignity, had cut herselfsternly away from all that related to her past life, and had shown signsalready of being a great Queen, stronger and wiser than her husband, but fierce, vindictive, and unbending, a firm support to her friends, but a terror to her foes. This was the woman to whom the Abbot Luke ofAntioch was bringing Leon, her forgotten son. If ever her mind strayedback to the days when, abandoned by her lover Ecebolus, the Governor ofthe African Pentapolis, she had made her way on foot through Asia Minor, and left her infant with the monks, it was only to persuade herself thatthe brethren cloistered far from the world would never identify Theodorathe Empress with Theodora the dissolute wanderer, and that the fruits ofher sin would be for ever concealed from her Imperial husband. 

The little brig had now rounded the point of the Acropolis, and the longblue stretch of the Golden Horn lay before it. The high wall ofTheodosius lined the whole harbour, but a narrow verge of land had beenleft between it and the water's edge to serve as a quay. The vessel ranalongside near the Neorion Gate, and the passengers, after a shortscrutiny from the group of helmeted guards who lounged beside it, wereallowed to pass through into the great city. 

The abbot, who had made several visits to Constantinople upon thebusiness of his monastery, walked with the assured step of one who knowshis ground; while the boy, alarmed and yet pleased by the rush ofpeople, the roar and clatter of passing chariots, and the vista ofmagnificent buildings, held tightly to the loose gown of his guide, while staring eagerly about him in every direction. Passing through thesteep and narrow streets which led up from the water, they emerged intothe open space which surrounds the magnificent pile of Saint Sophia, thegreat church begun by Constantine, hallowed by Saint Chrysostom, and nowthe seat of the Patriarch, and the very centre of the Eastern Church. Only with many crossings and genuflections did the pious abbot succeedin passing the revered shrine of his religion, and hurried on to hisdifficult task. 

Having passed Saint Sophia, the two travellers crossed the marble-pavedAugusteum, and saw upon their right the gilded gates of the hippodromethrough which a vast crowd of people was pressing, for though themorning had been devoted to the religious ceremony, the afternoon wasgiven over to secular festivities. So great was the rush of thepopulace that the two strangers had some difficulty in disengagingthemselves from the stream and reaching the huge arch of black marblewhich formed the outer gate of the palace. Within they were fiercelyordered to halt by a gold-crested and magnificent sentinel who laid hisshining spear across their breasts until his superior officer shouldgive them permission to pass. The abbot had been warned, however, thatall obstacles would give way if he mentioned the name of Basil theeunuch, who acted as chamberlain of the palace and also asParakimomen--a high office which meant that he slept at the door of theImperial bed-chamber. The charm worked wonderfully, for at the mentionof that potent name the Protosphathaire, or Head of the Palace Guards, who chanced to be upon the spot, immediately detached one of hissoldiers with instructions to convoy the two strangers into the presenceof the chamberlain. 

Passing in succession a middle guard and an inner guard, the travellerscame at last into the palace proper, and followed their majestic guidefrom chamber to chamber, each more wonderful than the last. Marbles andgold, velvet and silver, glittering mosaics, wonderful carvings, ivoryscreens, curtains of Armenian tissue and of Indian silk, damask fromArabia, and amber from the Baltic--all these things merged themselves inthe minds of the two simple provincials, until their eyes ached andtheir senses reeled before the blaze and the glory of this, the mostmagnificent of the dwellings of man. Finally, a pair of curtains, crusted with, gold, were parted, and their guide handed them over to anegro eunuch who stood within. A heavy, fat, brown-skinned man, with alarge, flabby, hairless face, was pacing up and down the smallapartment, and he turned upon them as they entered with an abominableand threatening smile. His loose lips and pendulous cheeks were those ofa gross old woman, but above them there shone a pair of dark malignanteyes, full of fierce intensity of observation and judgment. 

"You have entered the palace by using my name, " he said. "It is one ofmy boasts that any of the populace can approach me in this way. But itis not fortunate for those who take advantage of it without due cause. "Again he smiled a smile which made the frightened boy cling tightly tothe loose serge skirts of the abbot. 

But the ecclesiastic was a man of courage. Undaunted by the sinisterappearance of the great chamberlain, or by the threat which lay in hiswords, he laid his hand upon his young companion's shoulder and facedthe eunuch with a confident smile. 

"I have no doubt, your excellency, " said he, "that the importance of mymission has given me the right to enter the palace. The only thing whichtroubles me is whether it may not be so important as to forbid me frombroaching it to you, or indeed, to anybody save the Empress Theodora, since it is she only whom it concerns. "

The eunuch's thick eyebrows bunched together over his vicious eyes. 

"You must make good those words, " he said. "If my gracious master--theever-glorious Emperor Justinian--does not disdain to take me into hismost intimate confidence in all things, it would be strange if therewere any subject within your knowledge which I might not hear. You are, as I gather from your garb and bearing, the abbot of some Asiaticmonastery?"

"You are right, your excellency, I am the Abbot of the Monastery of St. Nicephorus in Antioch. But I repeat that I am assured that what I haveto say is for the ear of the Empress Theodora only. "

The eunuch was evidently puzzled, and his curiosity aroused by the oldman's persistence. He came nearer, his heavy face thrust forward, hisflabby brown hands, like two sponges, resting upon the table of yellowjasper before him. 

"Old man, " said he, "there is no secret which concerns the Empress whichmay not be told to me. But if you refuse to speak, it is certain thatyou will never see her. Why should I admit you, unless I know yourerrand? How should I know that you are not a Manichean heretic with aponiard in your bosom, longing for the blood of the mother of theChurch?"

The abbot hesitated no longer. "If there be a mistake in the matter, then on your head be it, " said he. "Know then that this lad Leon is theson of Theodora the Empress, left by her in our monastery within a monthof his birth ten years ago. This papyrus which I hand you will show youthat what I say is beyond all question or doubt. "

The eunuch Basil took the paper, but his eyes were fixed upon the boy, and his features showed a mixture of amazement at the news that he hadreceived, and of cunning speculation as to how he could turn it toprofit. 

"Indeed, he is the very image of the Empress, " he muttered; and then, with sudden suspicion, "Is it not the chance of this likeness which hasput the scheme into your head, old man?"

"There is but one way to answer that, " said the abbot. "It is to ask theEmpress herself whether what I say is not true, and to give her the gladtidings that her boy is alive and well. "

The tone of confidence, together with the testimony of the papyrus, andthe boy's beautiful face, removed the last shadow of doubt from theeunuch's mind. Here was a great fact; but what use could be made of it?Above all, what advantage could he draw from it? He stood with his fatchin in his hand, turning it over in his cunning brain. 

"Old man, " said he at last, "to how many have you told this secret?"

"To no one in the whole world, " the other answered. "There is DeaconBardas at the monastery and myself. No one else knows anything. "

"You are sure of this?"

"Absolutely certain. "

The eunuch had made up his mind. If he alone of all men in the palaceknew of this event, he would have a powerful hold over his masterfulmistress. He was certain that Justinian the Emperor knew nothing ofthis. It would be a shock to him. It might even alienate his affectionsfrom his wife. She might care to take precautions to prevent him fromknowing. And if he, Basil the eunuch, was her confederate in thoseprecautions, then how very close it must draw him to her. All thisflashed through his mind as he stood, the papyrus in his hand, lookingat the old man and the boy. 

"Stay here, " said he. "I will be with you again. " With a swift rustle ofhis silken robes he swept from the chamber. 

A few minutes had elapsed when a curtain at the end of the room waspushed aside, and the eunuch, reappearing, held it back, doubling hisunwieldy body into a profound obeisance as he did so. Through the gapcame a small alert woman, clad in golden tissue, with a loose outermantle and shoes of the Imperial purple. That colour alone showed thatshe could be none other than the Empress; but the dignity of hercarriage, the fierce authority of her magnificent dark eyes, and theperfect beauty of her haughty face, all proclaimed that it could only bethat of Theodora who, in spite of her lowly origin, was the mostmajestic as well as the most maturely lovely of all the women in herkingdom. Gone now were the buffoon tricks which the daughter of Acaciusthe bearward had learned in the amphitheatre; gone too was the lightcharm of the wanton, and what was left was the worthy mate of a greatking, the measured dignity of one who was every inch an empress. 

Disregarding the two men, Theodora walked up to the boy, placed her twowhite hands upon his shoulders, and looked with a long questioning gaze, a gaze which began with hard suspicion and ended with tenderrecognition, into those large lustrous eyes which were the veryreflection of her own. At first the sensitive lad was chilled by thecold intent question of the look; but as it softened, his own spiritresponded, until suddenly, with a cry of "Mother! Mother!" he casthimself into her arms, his hands locked round her neck, his face buriedin her bosom. Carried away by the sudden natural outburst of emotion, her own arms tightened round the lad's figure, and she strained him foran instant to her heart. Then, the strength of the Empress gaininginstant command over the temporary weakness of the mother, she pushedhim back from her, and waved that they should leave her to herself. Theslaves in attendance hurried the two visitors from the room. Basil theeunuch lingered, looking down at his mistress, who had thrown herselfupon a damask couch, her lips white and her bosom heaving with thetumult of her emotion. She glanced up and met the chancellor's craftygaze, her woman's instinct reading the threat that lurked within it. 

"I am in your power, " she said. "The Emperor must never know of this. "

"I am your slave, " said the eunuch, with his ambiguous smile. "I am aninstrument in your hand. If it is your will that the Emperor shouldknow nothing, then who is to tell him?"

"But the monk, the boy. What are we to do?"

"There is only one way for safety, " said the eunuch. 

She looked at him with horrified eyes. His spongy hands were pointingdown to the floor. There was an underground world to this beautifulpalace, a shadow that was ever close to the light, a region of dimly-litpassages, of shadowed corners, of noiseless, tongueless slaves, ofsudden sharp screams in the darkness. To this the eunuch was pointing. 

A terrible struggle rent her breast. The beautiful boy was hers, fleshof her flesh, bone of her bone. She knew it beyond all question ordoubt. It was her one child, and her whole heart went out to him. ButJustinian! She knew the Emperor's strange limitations. Her career in thepast was forgotten. He had swept it all aside by special Imperial decreepublished throughout the Empire, as if she were new-born through thepower of his will, and her association with his person. But they werechildless, and this sight of one which was not his own would cut him tothe quick. He could dismiss her infamous past from his mind, but if ittook the concrete shape of this beautiful child, then how could he waveit aside as if it had never been? All her instincts and her intimateknowledge of the man told her that even her charm and her influencemight fail under such circumstances to save her from ruin. Her divorcewould be as easy to him as her elevation had been. She was balanced upona giddy pinnacle, the highest in the world, and yet the higher thedeeper the fall. Everything that earth could give was now at her feet. Was she to risk the losing of it all--for what? For a weakness which wasunworthy of an Empress, for a foolish new-born spasm of love, for thatwhich had no existence within her in the morning? How could she be sofoolish as to risk losing such a substance for such a shadow?

"Leave it to me, " said the brown watchful face above her. 

"Must it be--death?"

"There is no real safety outside. But if your heart is too merciful, then by the loss of sight and speech----"

She saw in her mind the white-hot iron approaching those glorious eyes, and she shuddered at the thought. 

"No, no! Better death than that!"

"Let it be death then. You are wise, great Empress, for there only isreal safety and assurance of silence. "

"And the monk?"

"Him also. "

"But the Holy Synod! He is a tonsured priest. What would the Patriarchdo?"

"Silence his babbling tongue. Then let them do what they will. How arewe of the palace to know that this conspirator, taken with a dagger inhis sleeve, is really what he says?"

Again she shuddered and shrank down among the cushions. 

"Speak not of it, think not of it, " said the eunuch. "Say only that youleave it in my hands. Nay, then, if you cannot say it, do but nod yourhead, and I take it as your signal. "

In that instant there flashed before Theodora's mind a vision of all herenemies, of all those who envied her rise, of all whose hatred andcontempt would rise into a clamour of delight could they see thedaughter of the bearward hurled down again into that abyss from whichshe had been dragged. Her face hardened, her lips tightened, her littlehands clenched in the agony of her thought. 

"Do it!" she said. 

In an instant, with a terrible smile, the messenger of death hurriedfrom the room. She groaned aloud, and buried herself yet deeper amid thesilken cushions, clutching them frantically with convulsed and twitchinghands. 

The eunuch wasted no time, for this deed, once done, he became--save forthat insignificant monk in Asia Minor, whose fate would soon besealed--the only sharer of Theodora's secret, and therefore the onlyperson who could curb and bend that imperious nature. Hurrying into thechamber where the visitors were waiting, he gave a sinister signal, onlytoo well known in those iron days. In an instant the black mutes inattendance seized the old man and the boy, pushing them swiftly down apassage and into a meaner portion of the palace, where the heavy smellof luscious cooking proclaimed the neighbourhood of the kitchens. A sidecorridor led to a heavily-barred iron door, and this in turn opened upona steep flight of stone steps, feebly illuminated by the glimmer ofwall lamps. At the head and foot stood a mute sentinel like an ebonystatue, and below, along the dusky and forbidding passages from whichthe cells opened, a succession of niches in the wall were occupied by asimilar guardian. The unfortunate visitors were dragged brutally down anumber of stone-flagged and dismal corridors until they descendedanother long stair which led so deeply into the earth that the dampfeeling in the heavy air and the drip of water all round showed thatthey had come down to the level of the sea. Groans and cries, like thoseof sick animals, from the various grated doors which they passed showedhow many there were who spent their whole lives in this humid andpoisonous atmosphere. 

At the end of this lowest passage was a door which opened into a singlelarge vaulted room. It was devoid of furniture, but in the centre was alarge and heavy wooden board clamped with iron. This lay upon a rudestone parapet, engraved with inscriptions beyond the wit of the easternscholars, for this old well dated from a time before the Greeks foundedByzantium, when men of Chaldea and Phœnicia built with huge unmortaredblocks, far below the level of the town of Constantine. The door wasclosed, and the eunuch beckoned to the slaves that they should removethe slab which covered the well of death. The frightened boy screamedand clung to the abbot, who, ashy-pale and trembling, was pleading hardto melt the heart of the ferocious eunuch. 

"Surely, surely, you would not slay the innocent boy!" he cried. "Whathas he done? Was it his fault that he came here? I alone--I and DeaconBardas--are to blame. Punish us, if some one must indeed be punished. Weare old. It is to-day or to-morrow with us. But he is so young and sobeautiful, with all his life before him. Oh, sir! oh, your excellency, you would not have the heart to hurt him!"

He threw himself down and clutched at the eunuch's knees, while the boysobbed piteously and cast horror-stricken eyes at the black slaves whowere tearing the wooden slab from the ancient parapet beneath. The onlyanswer which the chamberlain gave to the frantic pleadings of the abbotwas to take a stone which lay on the coping of the well and toss it in. It could be heard clattering against the old, damp, mildewed walls, until it fell with a hollow boom into some far distant subterraneanpool. Then he again motioned with his hands, and the black slaves threwthemselves upon the boy and dragged him away from his guardian. Soshrill was his clamour that no one heard the approach of the Empress. With a swift rush she had entered the room, and her arms were round herson. 

"It shall not be! It cannot be!" she cried. "No, no, my darling! mydarling! they shall do you no hurt. I was mad to think of it--mad andwicked to dream of it. Oh, my sweet boy! to think that your mother mighthave had your blood upon her head!"

The eunuch's brows were gathered together at this failure of his plans, at this fresh example of feminine caprice. 

"Why kill them, great lady, if it pains your gracious heart?" said he. "With a knife and a branding-iron they can be disarmed for ever. "

She paid no attention to his words. "Kiss me, Leon!" she cried. "Justonce let me feel my own child's soft lips rest upon mine. Now again! No, no more, or I shall weaken for what I have still to say and still todo. Old man, you are very near a natural grave, and I cannot think fromyour venerable aspect that words of falsehood would come readily to yourlips. You have indeed kept my secret all these years, have you not?"

"I have in very truth, great Empress. I swear to you by SaintNicephorus, patron of our house, that save old Deacon Bardas, there isnone who knows. "

"Then let your lips still be sealed. If you have kept faith in the past, I see no reason why you should be a babbler in the future. And you, Leon"--she bent her wonderful eyes with a strange mixture of sternnessand of love upon the boy, "can I trust you? Will you keep a secret whichcould never help you, but would be the ruin and downfall of yourmother?"

"Oh, mother, I would not hurt you! I swear that I will be silent. "

"Then I trust you both. Such provision will be made for your monasteryand for your own personal comforts as will make you bless the day youcame to my palace. Now you may go. I wish never to see you again. If Idid, you might find me in a softer mood, or in a harder, and the onewould lead to my undoing, the other to yours. But if by whisper orrumour I have reason to think that you have failed me, then you and yourmonks and your monastery will have such an end as will be a lesson forever to those who would break faith with their Empress. "

"I will never speak, " said the old abbot; "neither will Deacon Bardas;neither will Leon. For all three I can answer. But there areothers--these slaves, the chancellor. We may be punished for another'sfault. "

"Not so, " said the Empress, and her eyes were like flints. "These slavesare voiceless; nor have they any means to tell those secrets which theyknow. As to you, Basil----" She raised her white hand with the samedeadly gesture which he had himself used so short a time before. Theblack slaves were on him like hounds on a stag. 

"Oh, my gracious mistress, dear lady, what is this? What is this? Youcannot mean it!" he screamed, in his high, cracked voice. "Oh, what haveI done? Why should I die?"

"You have turned me against my own. You have goaded me to slay my ownson. You have intended to use my secret against me. I read it in youreyes from the first. Cruel, murderous villain, taste the fate which youhave yourself given to so many others. This is your doom. I havespoken. "

The old man and the boy hurried in horror from the vault. As theyglanced back they saw the erect, inflexible, shimmering, gold-cladfigure of the Empress. Beyond they had a glimpse of the green-scummedlining of the well, and of the great red open mouth of the eunuch, as hescreamed and prayed while every tug of the straining slaves brought himone step nearer to the brink. With their hands over their ears theyrushed away, but even so they heard that last woman-like shriek, andthen the heavy plunge far down in the dark abysses of the earth. 

XII

A POINT OF CONTACT

A curious train of thought is started when one reflects upon those greatfigures who have trod the stage of this earth, and actually played theirparts in the same act, without ever coming face to face, or even knowingof each other's existence. Baber, the Great Mogul, was, for example, overrunning India at the very moment when Hernando Cortez wasoverrunning Mexico, and yet the two could never have heard of eachother. Or, to take a more supreme example, what could the EmperorAugustus Cæsar know of a certain Carpenter's shop wherein there worked adreamy-eyed boy who was destined to change the whole face of the world?It may be, however, that sometimes these great contemporary forces didapproach, touch, and separate--each unaware of the true meaning of theother. So it was in the instance which is now narrated. 

It was evening in the port of Tyre, some eleven hundred years beforethe coming of Christ. The city held, at that time, about a quarter of amillion of inhabitants, the majority of whom dwelt upon the mainland, where the buildings of the wealthy merchants, each in its own tree-girtgarden, extended for seven miles along the coast. The great island, however, from which the town got its name, lay out some distance fromthe shore, and contained within its narrow borders the more famous ofthe temples and public buildings. Of these temples the chief was that ofMelmoth, which covered with its long colonnades the greater part of thatside of the island which looked down upon the Sidonian port, so calledbecause only twenty miles away the older city of Sidon maintained aconstant stream of traffic with its rising offshoot. 

Inns were not yet in vogue, but the poorer traveller found his quarterswith hospitable citizens, while men of distinction were frequentlyhoused in the annex of the temples, where the servants of the priestsattended to their wants. On that particular evening there stood in theportico of the temple of Melmoth two remarkable figures who were thecentre of observation for a considerable fringe of Phœnician idlers. Oneof these men was clearly by his face and demeanour a great chieftain. His strongly-marked features were those of a man who had led anadventurous life, and were suggestive of every virile quality from braveresolve to desperate execution. His broad, high brow and contemplativeeyes showed that he was a man of wisdom as well as of valour. He wasclad, as became a Greek nobleman of the period, with a pure white linentunic, a gold-studded belt supporting a short sword, and a purple cloak. The lower legs were bare, and the feet covered by sandals of redleather, while a cap of white cloth was pushed back upon his browncurls, for the heat of the day was past and the evening breeze mostwelcome. 

His companion was a short, thick-set man, bull-necked and swarthy, cladin some dusky cloth which gave him a sombre appearance relieved only bythe vivid scarlet of his woollen cap. His manner towards his comrade wasone of deference, and yet there was in it also something of thatfreshness and frankness which go with common dangers and a commoninterest. 

"Be not impatient, sire, " he was saying. "Give me two days, or three atthe most, and we shall make as brave a show at the muster as any. But, indeed, they would smile if they saw us crawl up to Tenedos with tenmissing oars and the mainsail blown into rags. "

The other frowned and stamped his foot with anger. 

"We should have been there now had it not been for this cursedmischance, " said he. "Aeolus played us a pretty trick when he sent sucha blast out of a cloudless sky. "

"Well, sire, two of the Cretan galleys foundered, and Trophimes, thepilot, swears that one of the Argos ships was in trouble. Pray Zeus thatit was not the galley of Menelaus. We shall not be the last at themuster. "

"It is well that Troy stands a good ten miles from the sea, for if theycame out at us with a fleet they might have us at a disadvantage. We hadno choice but to come here and refit, yet I shall have no happy houruntil I see the white foam from the lash of our oars once more. Go, Seleucas, and speed them all you may. "

The officer bowed and departed, while the chieftain stood with his eyesfixed upon his great dismantled galley over which the riggers andcarpenters were swarming. Further out in the roadstead lay eleven othersmaller galleys, waiting until their wounded flagship should be readyfor them. The sun, as it shone upon them, gleamed upon hundreds ofbronze helmets and breastplates, telling of the warlike nature of theerrand upon which they were engaged. Save for them the port was filledwith bustling merchant ships taking in cargoes or disgorging them uponthe quays. At the very feet of the Greek chieftain three broad bargeswere moored, and gangs of labourers with wooden shovels were heaving outthe mussels brought from Dor, destined to supply the famous Tyriandye-works which adorn the most noble of all garments. Beside them was atin ship from Britain, and the square boxes of that precious metal, soneedful for the making of bronze, were being passed from hand to hand tothe waiting waggons. The Greek found himself smiling at the uncouthwonder of a Cornishman who had come with his tin, and who was now lostin amazement as he stared at the long colonnades of the Temple ofMelmoth and the high front of the Shrine of Ashtaroth behind it. Evenas he gazed some of his ship-mates passed their hands through his armsand led him along the quay to a wine-shop, as being a building much morewithin his comprehension. The Greek, still smiling, was turning on hisheels to return to the Temple, when one of the clean-shaven priests ofBaal came towards him. 

"It is rumoured, sire, " said he, "that you are on a very distant anddangerous venture. Indeed, it is well known from the talk of yoursoldiers what it is that you have on hand. "

"It is true, " said the Greek, "that we have a hard task before us. Butit would have been harder to bide at home and to feel that the honour ofa leader of the Argives had been soiled by this dog from Asia. "

"I hear that all Greece has taken up the quarrel. "

"Yes, there is not a chief from Thessaly to the Malea who has not calledout his men, and there were twelve hundred galleys in the harbour ofAulis. "

"It is a great host, " said the priest. "But have ye any seers orprophets among ye who can tell what will come to pass?"

"Yes, we had one such, Calchas his name. He has said that for nine yearswe shall strive, and only on the tenth will the victory come. "

"That is but cold comfort, " said the priest. "It is, indeed, a greatprize which can be worth ten years of a man's life. "

"I would give, " the Greek answered, "not ten years but all my life if Icould but lay proud Ilium in ashes and carry back Helen to her palace onthe hill of Argos. "

"I pray Baal, whose priest I am, that you may have good fortune, " saidthe Phœnician. "I have heard that these Trojans are stout soldiers, andthat Hector, the son of Priam, is a mighty leader. "

The Greek smiled proudly. 

"They must be stout and well-fed also, " said he, "if they can stand thebrunt against the long-haired Argives with such captains as Agamemnon, the son of Atreus from golden Mycenæ, or Achilles, son of Peleus, withhis myrmidons. But these things are on the knees of the Fates. In themeantime, my friend, I would fain know who these strange people are whocome down the street, for their chieftain has the air of one who is madefor great deeds. "

A tall man clad in a long white robe, with a golden fillet runningthrough his flowing auburn hair, was striding down the street with thefree elastic gait of one who has lived an active life in the open. Hisface was ruddy and noble, with a short, crisp beard covering a strong, square jaw. In his clear blue eyes as he looked at the evening sky andthe busy waters beneath him there was something of the exaltation of thepoet, while a youth walking beside him and carrying a harp hinted at thegraces of music. On the other side of him, however, a second squire borea brazen shield and a heavy spear, so that his master might never becaught unawares by his enemies. In his train there came a tumultuousrabble of dark hawk-like men, armed to the teeth, and peering about withcovetous eyes at the signs of wealth which lay in profusion around them. They were swarthy as Arabs, and yet they were better clad and betterarmed than the wild children of the desert. 

"They are but barbarians, " said the priest. "He is a small king from themountain parts opposite Philistia, and he comes here because he isbuilding up the town of Jebus, which he means to be his chief city. Itis only here that he can find the wood, and stone, and craftsmanshipthat he desires. The youth with the harp is his son. But I pray you, chief, if you would know what is before you at Troy, to come now intothe outer hall of the Temple with me, for we have there a famous seer, the prophetess Alaga who is also the priestess of Ashtaroth. It may bethat she can do for you what she has done for many others, and send youforth from Tyre in your hollow ships with a better heart than you came. "

To the Greeks, who by oracles, omens, and auguries were for ever pryinginto the future, such a suggestion was always welcome. The Greekfollowed the priest to the inner sanctuary, where sat the famousPythoness--a tall, fair woman of middle age, who sat at a stone tableupon which was an abacus or tray filled with sand. She held a style ofchalcedony, and with this she traced strange lines and curves upon thesmooth surface, her chin leaning upon her other hand and her eyes castdown. As the chief and the priest approached her she did not look up, but she quickened the movements of her pencil, so that curve followedcurve in quick succession. Then, still with downcast eyes, she spoke ina strange, high, sighing voice like wind amid the trees. 

"Who, then, is this who comes to Alaga of Tyre, the handmaiden of greatAshtaroth? Behold I see an island to the west, and an old man who is thefather, and the great chief, and his wife, and his son who now waits himat home, being too young for the wars. Is this not true?"

"Yes, maiden, you have said truth, " the Greek answered. 

"I have had many great ones before me, but none greater than you, forthree thousand years from now people will still talk of your bravery andof your wisdom. They will remember also the faithful wife at home, andthe name of the old man, your father, and of the boy your son--all willbe remembered when the very stones of noble Sidon and royal Tyre are nomore. "

"Nay, say not so, Alaga!" cried the priest. 

"I speak not what I desire but what it is given to me to say. For tenyears you will strive, and then you will win, and victory will bringrest to others, but only new troubles to you. Ah!" The prophetesssuddenly started in violent surprise, and her hand made ever fastermarkings on the sand. 

"What is it that ails you, Alaga?" asked the priest. 

The woman had looked up with wild inquiring eyes. Her gaze was neitherfor the priest nor for the chief, but shot past them to the furtherdoor. Looking round the Greek was aware that two new figures had enteredthe room. They were the ruddy barbarian whom he had marked in thestreet, together with the youth who bore his harp. 

"It is a marvel upon marvels that two such should enter my chamber onthe same day, " cried the priestess. "Have I not said that you were thegreatest that ever came, and yet behold here is already one who isgreater. For he and his son--even this youth whom I see before me--willalso be in the minds of all men when lands beyond the Pillars ofHercules shall have taken the place of Phœnicia and of Greece. Hail toyou, stranger, hail! Pass on to your work for it awaits you, and it isgreat beyond words of mine. " Rising from her stool the woman dropped herpencil upon the sand and passed swiftly from the room. 

"It is over, " said the priest. "Never have I heard her speak suchwords. "

The Greek chief looked with interest at the barbarian. "You speakGreek?" he asked. 

"Indifferently well, " said the other. "Yet I should understand it seeingthat I spent a long year at Ziklag in the land of the Philistines. "

"It would seem, " said the Greek, "that the gods have chosen us both toplay a part in the world. "

"Stranger, " the barbarian answered, "there is but one God. "

"Say you so? Well, it is a matter to be argued at some better time. ButI would fain have your name and style and what is it you purpose to do, so that we may perchance hear of each other in the years to come. For mypart I am Odysseus, known also as Ulysses, the King of Ithaca, with thegood Laertes as my father and young Telemachus as my son. For my work, it is the taking of Troy. "

"And my work, " said the barbarian, "is the building of Jebus, which nowwe call Jerusalem. Our ways lie separate, but it may come back to yourmemory that you have crossed the path of David, second King of theHebrews, together with his young son Solomon, who may follow him uponthe throne of Israel. "

So he turned and went forth into the darkened streets where his spearmenwere awaiting him, while the Greek passed down to his boat that he mightsee what was still to be done ere he could set forth upon his voyage. 

XIII

THE CENTURION

[_Being the fragment of a letter from Sulpicius Balbus, Legate of theTenth Legion, to his uncle, Lucius Piso, in his villa near Baiae, datedThe Kalends of the month of Augustus in the year 824 of Rome. _]

I promised you, my dear uncle, that I would tell you anything ofinterest concerning the siege of Jerusalem; but, indeed, these peoplewhom we imagined to be unwarlike have kept us so busy that there hasbeen little time for letter-writing. We came to Judæa thinking that amere blowing of trumpets and a shout would finish the affair, andpicturing a splendid triumph in the _via sacra_ to follow, with all thegirls in Rome throwing flowers and kisses to us. Well, we may get ourtriumph, and possibly the kisses also, but I can assure you that noteven you who have seen such hard service on the Rhine can ever haveexperienced a more severe campaign than this has been. We have now wonthe town, and to-day their temple is burning, and the smoke sets mecoughing as I sit writing in my tent. But it has been a terriblebusiness, and I am sure none of us wish to see Judæa again. 

In fighting the Gauls, or the Germans, you are against brave men, animated by the love of their country. This passion acts more, however, upon some than others, so that the whole army is not equally inflamed byit. These Jews, however, besides their love of country, which is verystrong, have a desperate religious fervour, which gives them a fury inbattle such as none of us have ever seen. They throw themselves with ashriek of joy upon our swords and lances, as if death were all that theydesired. 

If one gets past your guard may Jove protect you, for their knives aredeadly, and if it comes to a hand-to-hand grapple they are as dangerousas wild beasts, who would claw out your eyes or your throat. You knowthat our fellows of the Tenth Legion have been, ever since Cæsar's time, as rough soldiers as any with the Eagles, but I can assure you that Ihave seen them positively cowed by the fury of these fanatics. As amatter of fact we have had least to bear, for it has been our task fromthe beginning to guard the base of the peninsula upon which thisextraordinary town is built. It has steep precipices upon all the othersides, so that it is only on this one northern base that fugitives couldescape or a rescue come. Meanwhile, the fifth, fifteenth, and thetwelfth or Syrian legions have done the work, together with theauxiliaries. Poor devils! we have often pitied them, and there have beentimes when it was difficult to say whether we were attacking the town orthe town was attacking us. They broke down our tortoises with theirstones, burned our turrets with their fire, and dashed right through ourwhole camp to destroy the supplies in the rear. If any man says a Jew isnot a good soldier, you may be sure that he has never been in Judæa. 

However, all this has nothing to do with what I took up my stylus totell you. No doubt it is the common gossip of the forum and of the bathshow our army, excellently handled by the princely Titus, carried oneline of wall after the other until we had only the temple before us. This, however, is--or was, for I see it burning even as I write--a verystrong fortress. Romans have no idea of the magnificence of this place. The temple of which I speak is a far finer building than any we have inRome, and so is the Palace, built by Herod or Agrippa, I really forgetwhich. This temple is two hundred paces each way, with stones so fittedthat the blade of a knife will not go between, and the soldiers saythere is gold enough within to fill the pockets of the whole army. Thisidea puts some fury into the attack, as you can believe, but with theseflames I fear a great deal of the plunder will be lost. 

There was a great fight at the temple, and it was rumoured that it wouldbe carried by storm to-night, so I went out on to the rising groundwhence one sees the city best. I wonder, uncle, if in your manycampaigns you have ever smelt the smell of a large beleaguered town. Thewind was south to-night, and this terrible smell of death came straightto our nostrils. There were half a million people there, and every formof disease, starvation, decomposition, filth and horror, all pent inwithin a narrow compass. You know how the lion sheds smell behind theCircus Maximus, acid and foul. It is like that, but there is a low, deadly, subtle odour which lies beneath it and makes your very heartsink within you. Such was the smell which came up from the cityto-night. 

As I stood in the darkness, wrapped in my scarlet chlamys--for theevenings here are chill--I was suddenly aware that I was not alone. Atall, silent figure was near me, looking down at the town even as I was. I could see in the moonlight that he was clad as an officer, and as Iapproached him I recognized that it was Longinus, third tribune of myown legion, and a soldier of great age and experience. He is a strange, silent man, who is respected by all, but understood by none, for hekeeps his own council and thinks rather than talks. As I approached himthe first flames burst from the temple, a high column of fire, whichcast a glow upon our faces and gleamed upon our armour. In this redlight I saw that the gaunt face of my companion was set like iron. 

"At last!" said he. "At last!"

He was speaking to himself rather than to me, for he started and seemedconfused when I asked him what he meant. 

"I have long thought that evil would come to the place, " said he. "NowI see that it has come, and so I said 'At last!'"

"For that matter, " I answered, "we have all seen that evil would come tothe place, since it has again and again defied the authority of theCæsars. "

He looked keenly at me with a question in his eyes. Then he said:

"I have heard, sir, that you are one who has a full sympathy in thematter of the gods, believing that every man should worship according tohis own conscience and belief. "

I answered that I was a Stoic of the school of Seneca, who held thatthis world is a small matter and that we should care little for itsfortunes, but develop within ourselves a contempt for all but thehighest. 

He smiled in grim fashion at this. 

"I have heard, " said he, "that Seneca died the richest man in all Nero'sEmpire, so he made the best of this world in spite of his philosophy. "

"What are your own beliefs?" I asked. "Are you, perhaps, one who hasfathomed the mysteries of Isis, or been admitted to the Society ofMythra?"

"Have you ever heard, " he asked, "of the Christians?"

"Yes, " said I. "There were some slaves and wandering men in Rome whocalled themselves such. They worshipped, so far as I could gather, someman who died over here in Judæa. He was put to death, I believe, in thetime of Tiberius. "

"That is so, " he answered. "It was at the time when Pilate wasprocurator--Pontius Pilate, the brother of old Lucius Pilate, who hadEgypt in the time of Augustus. Pilate was of two minds in the matter, but the mob was as wild and savage as these very men that we have beencontending with. Pilate tried to put them off with a criminal, hopingthat so long as they had blood they would be satisfied. But they chosethe other, and he was not strong enough to withstand them. Ah! it was apity--a sad pity!"

"You seem to know a good deal about it, " said I. 

"I was there, " said the man simply, and became silent, while we bothlooked down at the huge column of flame from the burning temple. As itflared up we could see the white tents of the army and all the countryround. There was a low hill just outside the city, and my companionpointed to it. 

"That was where it happened, " said he. "I forget the name of the place, but in those days--it was more than thirty years ago--they put theircriminals to death there. But He was no criminal. It is always His eyesthat I think of--the look in His eyes. "

"What about the eyes, then?"

"They have haunted me ever since. I see them now. All the sorrow ofearth seemed mirrored in them. Sad, sad, and yet such a deep, tenderpity! One would have said that it was He who needed pity had you seenHis poor battered, disfigured face. But He had no thought forHimself--it was the great world pity that looked out of His gentle eyes. There was a noble maniple of the legion there, and not a man among themwho did not wish to charge the howling crowd who were dragging such aman to His death. "

"What were you doing there?"

"I was Junior Centurion, with the gold vine-rod fresh on my shoulders. Iwas on duty on the hill, and never had a job that I liked less. Butdiscipline has to be observed, and Pilate had given the order. But Ithought at the time--and I was not the only one--that this man's nameand work would not be forgotten, and that there would be a curse on theplace that had done such a deed. There was an old woman there, Hismother, with her grey hair down her back. I remember how she shriekedwhen one of our fellows with his lance put Him out of his pain. And afew others, women and men, poor and ragged, stood by Him. But, you see, it has turned out as I thought. Even in Rome, as you have observed, Hisfollowers have appeared. "

"I rather fancy, " said I, "that I am speaking to one of them. "

"At least, I have not forgotten, " said he. "I have been in the wars eversince with little time for study. But my pension is overdue, and when Ihave changed the sagum for the toga, and the tent for some little farmup Como way, then I shall look more deeply into these things, if, perchance, I can find some one to instruct me. "

And so I left him. I only tell you all this because I remember that youtook an interest in the man, Paulus, who was put to death for preachingthis religion. You told me that it had reached Cæsar's palace, and I cantell you now that it has reached Cæsar's soldiers as well. But apartfrom this matter I wish to tell you some of the adventures which we havehad recently in raiding for food among the hills, which stretch as farsouth as the river Jordan. The other day . . . 

[_Here the fragment is ended. _]

THE END

Transcriber's Note:

 Dialect spellings remain as printed. Minor typographical errors have been corrected without note, whilst significant amendments have been listed below:

 p. 79, 'cacophanies' amended to _cacophonies_; p. 102, 'Pantelic' amended to _Pentelic_; p. 113, 'Septimus' amended to _Septimius_; p. 144, 'Sava' amended to _Saba_; p. 206, 'wagons' amended to _waggons_.