Cleopatra (Historical Novel). Georg Ebers

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Cleopatra (Historical Novel) - Georg Ebers


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      Cæsarion had instantly recognized her as the female slave whom he had seen in Barine’s atrium, and ordered his train to fall back.

      Fortunately his tutor, Rhodon, had not fulfilled his duty of accompanying him. So the youth had ventured to follow the slave woman, and in the shadow of the mimosas, in the little grove beside the temple, he found Barine’s litter. His heart throbbed violently as, full of anxious expectation, he obeyed her signal to draw nearer. Still, she had granted him nothing save the favour of gratifying one of her wishes. But his heart had swelled almost to bursting when, resting her beautiful white arm on the door of her litter, she had told him that unjust men were striving to rob her grandfather Didymus of his garden, and she expected him, who bore the title of the “King of kings” to do his best to prevent such a crime.

      It had been difficult for him to grasp her meaning while she was speaking. There was a roaring sound in his ears as if, instead of being in the silent temple grove, he was standing on a stormy day upon the surf-beaten promontory of Lochias. He had not ventured to raise his eyes and look into her face. Not until she closed with the question whether she might hope for his assistance did her gaze constrain him to glance up. Ah, what had he not fancied he read in her imploring blue eyes! how unspeakably beautiful she had appeared!

      He had stood before her as if bereft of his senses. His sole knowledge was that he had promised, with his hand on his heart, to do everything in his power to prevent what threatened to cause her pain. Then her little hand, with its sparkling rings, was again stretched towards him, and he had resolved to kiss it; but while he glanced around at his train, she had already waved him a farewell, and the litter was borne away.

      He stood motionless, like the figure of a man on one of his mother’s ancient vases, staring in bewilderment after the flying figure of Happiness, whom he might easily have caught by her floating locks. How he raged over the miserable indecision which had defrauded him of so much joy! Yet nothing was really lost. If he succeeded in fulfilling her wishes, she could not fail to be grateful; and then——

      He pondered over the person to whom he should apply—Mardion, the Regent, or the Keeper of the Seal? No, they had planned the erection of the group of sculpture in the philosopher’s garden. To Iras, his mother’s confidante? Nay, last of all to her. The cunning woman would have perceived his purpose and betrayed it to the Regent. Ah, if Charmian, his mother’s other attendant, had been present! but she was with the fleet, which perhaps was even now engaged in battle with the enemy.

      At this recollection his eyes again sought the ground—he had not been permitted to take the place in the army to which his birth entitled him, while his mother and Charmian—— But he did not pursue this painful current of thought; for a serious reproach had forced itself upon him and sent the blood to his cheeks. He wished to be considered a man, and yet, in these fateful days, which would determine the destiny of his mother, his native city, Egypt, and that Rome which he, the only son of Cæsar, was taught to consider his heritage, he was visiting a beautiful woman, thinking of her, and of her alone. His days and half the nights were passed in forming plans for securing her love, forgetful of what should have occupied his whole heart.

      Only yesterday Iras had sharply admonished him that, in times like these, it was the duty of every friend of Cleopatra, and every foe of her foes, to be with the army at least in mind.

      He had remembered this, but, instead of heeding the warning, the thought of her had merely recalled her uncle, Archibius, who possessed great influence, not merely on account of his wealth but because every one also knew his high standing in the regard of the Queen. Besides, the clever, kindly man had always been friendly to him from childhood, and like a revelation came the idea of applying to him, and to the architect Gorgias, who had a voice in the matter, and by whom he had been strongly attracted during the period while he was rebuilding the wing assigned to the prince in the palace at Lochias.

      So one of the attendants was instantly despatched with the little tablet which invited Gorgias to the interview at the Temple of Isis.

      Then, in the afternoon, Cæsarion went secretly in a boat to the little palace of Archibius, situated on the seashore at Kanopus, and now as the latter, with his friend, stood beside the carriage door, he explained to them that he was going with the architect to old Didymus to assure him of his assistance.

      This was unadvisable in every respect, but it required all the weight of the older man’s reasons to induce the prince to yield. The consequences which might ensue, should the populace discover that he was taking sides against the Regent, would be incalculable. But submission and withdrawal were especially difficult to the young “King of kings.” He longed to pose as a man in Dion’s presence, and as this could not be, he strove to maintain the semblance of independence by yielding his resolve only on the plea of not desiring to injure the aged scholar and his granddaughter. Finally, he again entreated the architect to secure Didymus in the possession of his property. When at last he drove away with Archibius, twilight was already gathering, torches were lighted in front of the temple and the little mausoleum adjoining the cella, and pitch-pans were blazing in the square.

      CHAPTER III.

       Table of Contents

      “The lad is in an evil plight,” said Gorgias, shaking his head thoughtfully as the equipage rolled over the stone pavement of the Street of the King.

      “And over yonder,” added Dion, “the prospect is equally unpleasing. Philostratus is setting the people crazy. But the hired mischief-maker will soon wish he had been less ready to seize Iras’s gold coins.”

      “And to think,” cried the architect, “that Barine was this scoundrel’s wife! How could it be——”

      “She was but a child when they married her,” interrupted Dion. “Who consults a girl of fifteen in the choice of a husband? And Philostratus—he was my classmate at Rhodus—at that time had the fairest prospects. His brother Alexas, Antony’s favourite, could easily advance him. Barine’s father was dead, her mother was accustomed to follow Didymus’s counsel, and the clever fellow had managed to strew dust in the old man’s eyes. Long and lank as he is, he is not bad-looking even now. When he appeared as an orator he pleased his hearers. This turned his head, and a spendthrift’s blood runs in his veins. To bring his fair young bride to a stately mansion, he undertook the bad cause of the thievish tax-collector Pyrrhus, and cleared him.”

      “He bought a dozen false witnesses.”

      “There were sixteen. Afterwards they became as numerous as the open mouths you see shouting yonder. It is time to silence them. Go to the old man’s house and soothe him—Barine also, if she is there. If you find messengers from the Regent, raise objections to the unprecedented decree. You know the portions of the law which can be turned to Didymus’s advantage.”

      “Since the reign of Euergetes II, registered landed property has been unassailable, and his was recorded.”

      “So much the better. Tell the officials also, confidentially, that you know of objections just discovered which may perhaps change the Regent’s views.”

      “And, above all, I shall insist upon my right to choose the place for the twin statues. The Queen herself directed the others to heed my opinion.”

      “That will cast the heaviest weight into the scale. We shall meet later. You will prefer to keep away from Barine to-night. If you see her, tell her that Archibius said he would visit her later—for an object I will explain afterwards. I shall probably go to Iras to bring her to reason. It will be better not to mention Cæsarion’s wish.”

      “Certainly—and you will give nothing to yonder brawler.”

      “On the contrary. I feel very generous. If Peitho will aid me, the insatiate fellow will get more than may be agreeable to him.”

      Then grasping the architect’s hand, Dion forced his way through the throng surrounding the high platform on wheels, upon which the closely covered piece


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