The sultry heat of an African summer day still brooded over the whole grove, although the sun had long since sunk into the sea, and the brief twilight had passed into the darkness of night. But the full moon was already rising above the palm-trees, pouring her magical light over trees, bushes, meadows, and water; over the marble statues which gleamed fantastically out of the darkest, blackish-green masses of shrubbery; and over the buildings, which were principally of white or light-colored stone.
In the more distant portions of the grove Diana's soft silvery light ruled alone, and here deep, chaste silence reigned, interrupted only here and there by the note of some night bird. But near the gate, in the two great main buildings, and on the turf and in the gardens surrounding them, the noisy uproar of many thousands filled the air. All the instruments known at the time were playing discordantly, drowning one another. Cries of pleasure, drunkenness, even rage and angry conflict, were heard in the Roman, the Greek, the Moorish, and especially the Vandal tongue; for perhaps the largest and certainly the noisiest "guests of the grove," as the companions in these pleasures called themselves, belonged to the race of conquerors, who here gave vent to all their longing and capacity for pleasure.
Two men, wearing the German costume, were walking down the broad street to the Circus. The dress was conspicuous here, for nearly all the Vandals, except the royal family, had either exchanged the German garb, nay, even the German weapons, for Roman ones, or for convenience, effeminacy, love of finery, adopted one or another article of Roman attire. These two men, however, had German cloaks, helmets, and weapons.
"What frantic shouts! What pushing and crowding!" said the elder, a man of middle height, whose shrewd, keen eyes were closely scanning everything that was passing around him.
"And it is not the Romans who shout and roar most wildly and frenziedly, but our own dear cousins," replied the other.
"Was I not right, friend Theudigesel? Here, among the people themselves, we shall learn more, obtain better information, in a single night, than if we exchanged letters with this book-learned King for many months."
"What we see here with our own eyes is almost incredible!"
Just at that moment loud cries reached their ears from the gate behind them. Two negroes, naked except for an apron of peacock feathers about their loins, were swinging gold staves around their woolly heads, evidently trying to force a passage for a train behind them.
"Make way," they shouted constantly; "make way for the noble, Modigesel."
But they could not succeed in breaking through the crowd; their calls only attracted more curious spectators. So the eight Moors behind, who were clad, or ratherunclad, in the same way, were compelled to set down their swaying burden, a richly gilded, half open litter. Its back was made of narrow purple cushions, framed and supported by ivory rods; white ostrich feathers and the red plumage of the flamingo nodded from the knobs of the ivory.
"Ho, my friend,"--the younger man addressed the occupant of the litter, a fair-haired Vandal about twenty-seven years old in a gleaming silk robe, richly ornamented with gold and gems,--"are the nights here always so gay?"
The noble was evidently surprised that any one should presume to accost him so unceremoniously. Listlessly opening a pair of sleepy eyes, he turned to his companion; for beside him now appeared a young woman, marvellously beautiful, though almost too fully developed, in a splendid robe, but overloaded with ornament. Her fair skin seemed to gleam with a dull yellow lustre; the expression of the perfect features, as regular as though carved by rule, yet rigid as those of the Sphinx, had absolutely no trace of mind or soul, only somewhat indolent but not yet sated sensuousness: she resembled a marvellously beautiful but very dangerous animal. So her charms exerted a power that was bewildering, oppressive, rather than winning. The Juno-like figure was not ornamented, but rather hung and laden, with gold chains, circlets, rings, and disks.
"O-oh-a-ah! I say, Astarte!" lisped her companion, in an affected whisper. He had heard from a Græco-Roman dandy in Constantinople that it was fashionable to speak too low to be understood. "Scarecrows, those two fellows, eh?" And, sighing over the exertion, he pushed up the thick chaplet of roses which had slipped down over his eyes. "Like the description of Genseric and his graybeards! Just see--ah--one has a wolfskin for a cloak. The other is carrying--in the Grove of Venus--a huge spear!--You ought to show yourselves--over yonder--in the Circus--for money, monsters!"
The younger stranger drew his sword wrathfully. "If you knew to whom you were--"
But the older man motioned him to keep silence.
"You must have come a long distance, if you ask such questions," the Vandal went on, evidently amused by the appearance of the foreigners. "It is the same always in this grove of the goddess of love. Only possibly it may be a trifle gayer to-night. The richest nobleman in Carthage celebrates his wedding. And he has invited the whole city."
The beauty at his side raised herself a little. "Why do you waste time in talking to these rustics? Look, the lake is already shining with red light. The gondola procession is beginning. I want to see handsome Thrasaric."
And--at this name--the inanimate features brightened, the large, dark, impenetrable eyes darted an eager, searching glance into the distance, then the long lashes fell. She leaned her head back on the purple cushions; the black hair was piled up more than two hands high and clasped by five gold circlets united by light silver chains, yet the magnificent locks, thick as they were, were so stiff and coarse in texture that they resembled the hair of a horse's mane.
"Can't you content yourself for the present, Astarte, with the less handsome Modigisel?" shouted her companion, with a strength of voice that proved the affectation of his former lisping whisper. "You are growing too bold since your manumission." And he nudged her in the side with his elbow. It was probably meant for an expression of tenderness. But the Carthaginian slightly curled her upper lip, revealing only her little white incisors. It was merely a light tremor, but it recalled the huge cats of her native land, especially when at the same time, like an angry tiger, she shut her eyes and threw back her splendid round head a little, as if silently vowing future vengeance.
Modigisel had not noticed it.
"I will obey, divine mistress," he now lisped again in the most affected tone. "Forward!" Then as the poor blacks--he had adopted the fashionable tone so completely--really did not hear him at all, he now roared like a bear: "Forward, you dogs, I tell you!" striking, with a strength no one would have expected from the rose-garlanded dandy, the nearest slave a blow on the back which felled him to the ground. The man rose again without a sound, and with the seven others grasped the heavily gilded poles; the litter soon vanished in the throng.
"Did you seeher?" asked the wearer of the wolf-skin.
"Yes. She is like a black panther, or like this country: beautiful, passionate, treacherous, and deadly. Come, Theudigisel! Let us go to the lake too. Most of the Vandals are gathering there. We shall have an opportunity to know them thoroughly. Here is a shorter foot-path, leading across the turf."
"Stay! don't stumble, my lord! What is lying there directly across the way?"
"A soldier--in full armor--a Vandal!"
"And sound asleep in the midst of all this uproar."
"He must be very drunk."
The older man pushed the prostrate figure with the handle of his spear.
"Who are you, fellow?"
"I?--I?" The startled warrior propped himself on one elbow; he was evidently trying to think. "I believe I am--Gunthamund, son of Guntharic."
"What are you doing here?"
"You see. I am on guard. What are you laughing at? I am on guard to prevent any carousing in the grove. Where are the others? Have you no wine? I am horribly thirsty." And he sank back in the tall soft grass.
"So these are the guards of the Vandals! Do you still counsel, my brave duke, as you advised,--beyond the sea?"
The other, shaking his head, followed silently. Both vanished in the throng of people who were now pressing from every direction toward the lake.
ON the southern shore of this tree-girdled water, opposite to the little harbor, walled with marble, into which it ran at the northern end, were high board platforms hung with gay costly stuffs, erected for specially distinguished guests, who were numbered by hundreds; a balcony draped with purple silk, extending far out into the sea, was reserved for the most aristocratic spectators.
Now the soft moonlight resting on the mirrorlike surface of the lake was suddenly outshone by a broad red glare, which lasted for several minutes. As it died away, a blue, then a green light blazed up, brilliantly illuminating the groups of spectators on the shore, the white marble buildings in the distance, the statues among the shrubbery, and especially the surface of the lake itself and the magnificent spectacle it presented.
From the harbor, behind whose walls it had hitherto remained concealed, glided a whole flotilla of boats, skiffs, vessels of every description: ten, twenty, forty vessels, fantastically shaped, sometimes as dolphins, sometimes as sharks, gigantic water birds, often as dragons, the "banner-beast" of the Vandals. Masts, yards, sails, the lofty pointed prow, as well as the broad stern, nay, even the upper part of the oar handles, were wreathed, garlanded, twined with flowers, gay, broad ribbons, even gold and silver fringes; magnificent rugs covered the whole deck, which had been finished with costly woodwork; some of them hung in the water at the stern and floated far, far behind the ships.
On the deck of every vessel, at the mast or at the stern, picturesquely posed on several steps Vandal men and youths. They were dressed in striking costumes, often copied from various nations, and beside them reclined young girls or beautiful boys. The fair or red locks of the Vandals fell on the neck of many a brown-skinned maid, and mingled with many black tresses.
Music echoed from every ship; busy slaves--white, yellow Moors, negroes--poured out unmixed wine from beautifully formed jars with handles. No matter how the vessels rocked, they bore the jars on their heads without spilling the contents, and apparently with no great exertion, often holding them with only one hand. So the dark fleet glided over the redly illumined lake.
But suddenly the centre opened and out shot, apparently moving without oars,--the slaves were concealed under the deck,--the great wedding ship, far outshining all the others in fantastic, lavish splendor. It was drawn seemingly only by eight powerful swans, fastened in pairs with small gold chains attached to collars. These chains passed under the wings of each pair, uniting them to the next. The magnificent birds, which had been carefully trained for this purpose, heeded not the uproar and light around them, but moved in calm majesty straight toward the balcony at the southern end.
On the deck, piled a foot high with crimson roses, an open arbor of natural vines had been arranged around the mast. In it lay the bridegroom, a giant nearly seven feet tall, his shining mane of red locks garlanded with vine leaves and--in violation of good taste--red roses. A panther-skin was around the upper portion of his body, a purple apron about his loins, a thyrsus staff in his huge but loosely hanging right hand. Nestling to his broad, powerful breast reclined an extremely delicate, fragile girl, scarcely beyond childhood, almost too dainty of form. Her face could not be seen; the Roman bridal veil had been fastened on the deserted Ariadne--very unsuitably. Besides, the child seemed frightened by all the uproar, timidly hiding her face under the panther-skin and on the giant's breast; true, she often with a swift, upward glance tried to meet his eyes; but he did not see it.
A nude boy about twelve years old, with golden wings on his shoulders, a bow and quiver fastened by a gold band across his back, was constantly filling an enormous goblet for the bridegroom, who seemed to think that his costume required him to drain it at once,--which diverted his attention more than was desirable from his bride. On a couch, somewhat above the bridal pair, a very beautiful girl about eighteen lay in a picturesque attitude. Her noble head, with its golden hair simply arranged in a Grecian knot, rested on the palm of her left hand. Her Hellenic outlines and Hellenic statuesque repose rendered her infinitely more noble and aristocratic than the Carthaginian Astarte. Two tame doves perched on her right shoulder; she wore a robe of white Coan gauze, which fell below the knee, but seemed intended to adorn rather than to conceal her charms. The thin silken web was held around the hips by an exquisitely wrought golden girdle half a foot wide, from which hung a purple Phœnician apron weighted with gold tassels; on her gold sandals were fastened "sea waves" made of stiff gray and white silk, which extended to the delicate ankles of the "Foam-born," and at the right and left of each one, the gleam of two large pearls was visible at a great distance.
As the ship, drawn by the swans, now came into full view of all the many thousands, the dazzling sight was greeted with deafening shouts. As soon as the vessel emerged from the dim light into the radiant glare, the Aphrodite hastily, desperately, tried to conceal herself; finding a large piece of coarse sail-cloth lying near, she wrapped it around her figure.
"How barbaric the whole thing is!" whispered, but very cautiously, one Roman to another in the harsh throat tones of the African vulgar Latin, as they stood together under the staging on the opposite side of the harbor.
"I suppose that is intended to represent Bacchus, neighbor Laurus?"
"And Ariadne."
"I like the Aphrodite."
"Yes, I believe you, friend Victor. It is the beautiful Ionian, Glauke. She was stolen from Miletus a short time ago by pirates. She is said to be the child of prosperous parents. She was sold in the harbor forum to Thrasabad, the bridegroom's brother. They say she cost as much as two country estates!"
"She is gazing very mournfully, under her drooping lashes, into the lake."
"Yet her buyer and master is said to treat her with the utmost consideration, and fairly worships her."
"I can easily believe it. She is wonderfully beautiful,--solemnly beautiful, I might say."
"But imagine this bear from Thule, this buffalo from the land of Scythia, a Dionysus!"
"With those elephant bones!"
"With that fiery-red beard, two spans wide!"
"He probably wouldn't have that and the shaggy fleece on his head cut off, if thereby he could become a god in reality."
"Yes, a Vandal noble! They think themselves greater than gods or saints."
"Yet they were only cattle-thieves and land and sea robbers."
"Just look, he has buckled his broad German sword-belt over the vine drapery about his loins."
"Perhaps for the sake of propriety," cried the other, laughing; "and actually, Dionysus is wearing a Vandal short-sword."
"The Barbarian seems to be ashamed of being a naked god."
"Then he has not yet lostallshame!" exclaimed a man who had also understood the cautious whisper, striding rapidly on. "Come, Theudigisel!"
"Did you understand that? It was the man with the spear. It did not sound like the Vandal tongue."
"Yes, exactly like it. That's the way they speak in Spain! I heard it in Hispalis."
"Hark, what a roaring on the ships!"
"That must be a hymenæus, Victor! The bridegroom's brother composed it. The Barbarians now write Latin and Greek verses. But they are of their stamp."
"Yes, listen, Lauras," cried the other, laughing; "you are prejudiced, as a rival! Since you failed in your leather business, you have lived by writing, O friend! Weddings, baptisms, funerals, it was all the same to you. You have even sung the praises of the Vandal victories over the Moors, and--the Lord have mercy on us!--'the brave sword of King Hilderic.' Yes, you wrote for the Barbarians even more willingly and frequently than for us Romans."
"Of course. The Barbarians know less, require less, and pay better. For the same reason, friend Victor, you too must wish, for the sake of your wine-shop, that the Vandals may remain rulers of Carthage."
"How so?"
"Why, the Barbarians know as little about good wine as they do about good verses."
"Only half hit. They probably have a tolerably fair judgment of it. But they are always so thirsty that they will enjoy and pay for sour wine too--like your sour verses. Woe betide us when we no longer have the stupid Barbarians for customers! We should be obliged, in our old age, to furnish better wine and better poetry."
"The ships will soon be here! We can see everything distinctly now. Look at the bridegroom's enormous goblet; the little Cupid can scarcely hold it; it seems familiar to me."
"Why, of course. That's surely the immense shell from the Fountain of Neptune in the Forum,--larger than a child's head!"
"Yes, it has been missing for several days. Oh, the Germans would drain the ocean if it were full of wine."
"And just see the hundred weight of gold which they have hung on poor Aphrodite."
"All stolen, plundered Roman property. She can hardly move under the weight of her jewels."
"Modesty, Victor, modesty! She has not much clothing except her jewels."
"It's not the poor girl's fault apparently. That insolent Cupid just snatched off the sailcloth and flung it into the sea. See how confused she is, how she tries to find some drapery. She is beseeching the bride, pointing to the large white silk coverlet at her feet."
"Little Ariadne is nodding; she has picked it up; now she is throwing it over Aphrodite's shoulders. How grateful she looks!"
"They are landing. I pity the poor bride. Disgrace and shame! She is the child of a freeborn Roman citizen, though of Greek origin. And the father--"
"Where is Eugenes? I do not see him on the bridal ship."
"He is probably ashamed to show himself at the sacrifice of his child. He went to Utica with his Sicilian guest on business long before the marriage, and after his return he will go with the Syracusan to Sicily. It is really like the ancient sacrifice of the maidens which the Athenians were obliged to offer to the Minotaur. He gives up Eugenia, the daintiest jewel of Carthage."
"But they say she wanted to marry him; she loved the red giant. And he is not ugly; he is really handsome."
"He is a Barbarian. Curses on the Bar--oh, pardon me, my most gracious lord! May Saint Cyprian grant you a long life!"
He had hastily thrown himself on his knees before a half-drunken Vandal, who had nearly fallen over him, and without heeding the Roman's existence had already forced his way far to the front.
"Why, Laurus! The Barbarian surely ran against you, not you against him?" said Victor, helping his countryman to his feet again.
"No matter! Our masters are quick to lay their hands on the short-sword! May Orcus swallow the whole brood!"
Meanwhile the ships had reached the shore: they were moored in a broad front, side by side, greeted with a loud burst of music from pipes and drums in the balcony. Instantly all flung from their lofty prows step-ladders, covered with rich rugs. Slaves scattered flowers over the stairs, down which the bridal pair and their guests now descended to the land, while, at the same moment, by similar steps the spectators descended from the platforms. The two groups now formed in a festal procession upon the shore, A handsome though somewhat effeminate-looking young Vandal, with a winged hat on his fair locks and winged shoes on his feet, hurried constantly to and fro, waving an ivory staff twined with golden serpents. He seemed to be the manager of the entertainment.
"Who is that?" asked Victor. "Probably the master of the beautiful Aphrodite. He is nodding; and she smiles at him."
"Yes, that is Thrasabad," cried Laurus, angrily, clinching his fist, yet lowering his voice timidly. "May Saint Cyprian send scorpions into his bed! A Vandal writer! He is spoiling my trade. And I am the pupil of the great Luxorius."
"Pupil? I think you were--"
"His slave, then freedman. I have covered whole ass's skins with copies of his verses."
"But not as his pupil?"
"You don't understand. The whole art of composition consists of a dozen little tricks, which are best learned by copying, because they are constantly recurring. And this Barbarian composes gratis! Of course he must be glad to have any one listen to him."
"He is leading the procession--as Mercury."
"Oh, the character just suits him. He understands how to steal. Only in doing so they kill the owners. 'Feud' is what these noble Germans call it."
"Look! he has given the signal; they are going to the Circus. Up! Let us follow."
Mercury held out his hand to Aphrodite to help her to land.
"Do I have you again?" he whispered tenderly. "I have missed you two long hours, fair one. Dearest, I love you fervently."
The girl smiled charmingly, raising her beautiful eyes to his with a grateful, even tender expression.
"That is the only reason I still live," she murmured, instantly lowering her long lashes sorrowfully.
"But so completely muffled, my Aphrodite?"
"I am not your Aphrodite; I am your Glauke."
Hand in hand with her, Thrasabad now led the procession, which, not without occasional pauses, forced its way through the staring multitude.
As soon as the Circus was reached, numerous slaves showed the guests to seats, assigned according to their rank or the regard in which they were held by the giver of the entertainment. The best were in the front row, originally intended for the Senators of Carthage; the structure on the southern side, the pulvinar, the imperial box which had been occupied by many a predecessor of Gelimer, remained empty. On the northern side, not directly opposite to the pulvinar, but considerably nearer the eastern end, the "Porta Pompæ," there were projecting boxes for the bridegroom, his most intimate friends, and his most distinguished guests. Through this gate, in the midst of the stalls and sheds for the horses and chariots,--the "oppidum" and the "carceres,"--the circensian procession passed before the beginning of the races. From this gate the course ran westward in a semi-circle. The victors made their exit through the "Porta Triumphalis." Extending the entire length from east to west, the "spina," a low wall richly adorned with small columns, dark-green marble obelisks, and numerous statuettes of victors in former races, divided the course into two parts like a barrier. At the eastern and western ends a goal "Meta" was erected, the former called the "Meta prima," the latter the "Meta secunda." The chariots drove into the arena from the southern and northern ends of the stables, through two gates in the east. Lastly, on the southern side, midway between the stables and the imperial box, partly concealed from view, was the sorrowful gate, the "Porta Libitinensis," through which the killed and wounded charioteers were borne out. The length of the course was about one hundred and ninety paces, the width one hundred and forty.
After the bustle had subsided, and the guests were all in their seats. Mercury appeared in the principal box, which contained about twelve men and women, among them Modigisel and his beautiful companion. He bowed gracefully before the bridal pair, and began,--
"Allow me, divine brother, son of Semele--"
"Listen, my little man," interrupted the bridegroom. (Mercury measured a few inches less than Bacchus, but was considerably over six feet tall.) "I believe you have had too much wine, and especially the dark red, which I drank from the 'Ocean'; in short, you share my intoxication. Our brave father's name was Thrasamer, not Semele." The poetic Vandal, with a superior smile, exchanged glances with Aphrodite, who was also in the box, and continued,--
"Allow me, before the games begin, to read my epithalamium--"
"No, no, brother," interrupted the giant, hastily. "Better, far better not! The verses are--"
"Perhaps not smooth enough? What do you know about hiatus, and--"
"Nothing at all! But the sense--so far as I understood it--you were good enough to read it aloud to me three times--"
"Five times to me," said Aphrodite, softly, with a charming smile. "I entreated him to burn the verses. They are neither beautiful nor good. So what is their use?"
"The meaning is so exaggerated," Thrasaric went on; "well, we may say shameless."
"They follow the best Roman models," said the poet, resentfully.
"Very probably. Perhaps that is the reason I was ashamed when I listened to them alone; I should not like, in the presence of these ladies--"
A shrill laugh reached his ears.
"You are laughing, Astarte?"
"Yes, handsome Thrasaric, I am laughing! You Germans are incorrigible shamefaced boys, with the limbs of giants."
The bride raised her eyes beseechingly to him. He did not see it.
"Shamefaced? I have seemed to myself very shameless. My part as a half-nude god is most distasteful to me. I shall be glad, Eugenia, when all this uproar is over."
She pressed his hand gratefully, whispering, "And to-morrow you will go with me to Hilda, won't you? She wished to congratulate me on the first day of my happiness."
"Certainly! Andhercongratulations will bring you happiness. She is the most glorious of women. She, her marriage with Gibamund, first taught me to believe once more in women, love, and the happiness of wedded life. It was she who--What do you want, little man? Oh, the games! The guests! I was forgetting everything. Go on! Give the signal! They must begin below."
Mercury stepped forward to the white marble railing of the box and waved his serpent wand twice in the air. The two gates at the right and left of the stables swung open: from the former a man, clad in blue, carrying a tuba, entered the arena; from the latter one dressed entirely in green; and two loud blasts announced the entrance of the circensian procession. In the brief pause before the appearance of the chariots Modigisel plucked the bridegroom lightly by his panther-skin.
"Listen," he whispered, "my Astarte is fairly devouring you with her eyes. I believe she likes you far better than she does me. I suppose I ought to kill her, out of jealousy. But--ugh!--it's too hot for either jealousy or beating."
"I believe she is no longer your slave," replied Thrasaric.
"I freed her, but retained the obligation of obedience, the obsequium. Pshaw! I would kill her for that very reason, if it weren't so hot. But how would it do if we--I am tired of her, and I've taken a fancy to your slender little Eugenia, perhaps on account of the contrast--how would it do if we should--exchange?"
Thrasaric had no time to answer. The tuba blared again, and the chariots entered in a stately procession. Five of the Blues rolled slowly in from the right gate, five of the Greens from the left; the chariots themselves, the reins and trappings of the horses, and the tunics of the charioteers were respectively leek-green and light-blue. The first three chariots of each party were drawn by four horses, the usual number; but when the fourth appeared with five, and the last on both sides actually had seven steeds, loud shouts of surprise and approval rang from the upper seats, to which, though many better ones stood empty, the Vandal directors had sent the middle and lower classes of the Roman citizens.
"Just look, Victor," Laurus whispered to his neighbor. "Those are the colors of the two parties in Constantinople."
"Certainly. The Barbarians imitate everything."
"But like apes playing the flute!"
"No one should attend the Circus except in a toga."
"As we do," said Victor, complacently. "But these people!--some in coats of mail, the majority in garments as thin as spider-webs."
"Of course they will never be true residents of the south; only degenerate northern Barbarians."
"But just look: the magnificence, the lavishness. The wheels, the very fellies, are silvered and then twined with blue or green ribbons."
"And the bodies of the chariots! They glisten like sapphires and emeralds."
"Where did Thrasaric get all this treasure?"
"Stolen, friend, stolen from us all. I've often told you so. But not he himself; this generation has grown almost too lazy even for stealing and robbing. It was his father Thrasamer and especially his grandfather, Thrasafred. He was Genseric's right hand. And what that means in pillaging as well as fighting cannot be imagined."
"Magnificent horses, the five reddish-brown ones! They are not African."
"Yes, but of the Spanish stock, reared in Cyrene. They are the best."
"Yes, if there is a strain of Moorish blood. You know, like the Moorish chief Cabaon's famous stallion. A Vandal is said to have him now."
"Impossible! No Moor sells such a horse."
"The procession is over; they are moving side by side, to the white rope. Now!"
"No, not yet. See, each Green and Blue is approaching the hermulæ on the right and left, to which the rope is fastened. Hark! What is Mercury shouting?"
"The prizes for the victors. Just listen: fifteen thousand sestertii, the second prize for the team of four; twenty-five thousand the first; forty thousand for the victorious five-span; and sixty thousand--that's unprecedented--for the seven."
"Look, how the seven horses harnessed to the green chariot are pawing the sand! That is Hercules, the charioteer. He has five medals already."
"But see! His opponent is the Moor Chalches. He wears seven medals. Look, he is throwing down his whip; he is challenging Hercules to drive without one, too. But he will not dare."
"Yes; he is tossing the whip on the sand. I'll bet on Hercules! I side with the Greens!" shouted Victor, excitedly.
"And I with the Blues. It ought--but stop! We--Roman citizens--betting on the games of our tyrants?"
"Oh, nonsense! you have no courage! Or no money!"
"More than you--of both! How much? Ten sestertii?"
"Twelve!"
"For aught I care. Done!"
"Look, the rope has fallen!"
"Now they are rushing forward!"
"Bravo, Green, at the first meta already--and nearest--past."
"On, Chalches! There, Blue! Forward! Hi! at the second meta Chalches was nearest."
"Faster, Hercules! Faster, you lazy snail! Keep more to the right--the right! or--O, Heaven!"
"Yes, Saint Cyprian! Triumph! There lies the proud Green! Flat on his belly, like a crushed frog! Triumph! The Blue is at the goal. Pay up, friend! Where is my money?"
"That isn't fair. I won't pay. The Blue intentionally struck the horse on the left with his pole. That's cheating!"
"What? Do you insult my color? And won't pay either?"
"Not a pebble."
"Indeed? Well, you rascal, I'll payyou."
A blow fell; it sounded like a slap on a fat cheek.
"Keep quiet up there, you dwellers in the clouds," shouted Mercury. "It is nothing, fair bride, except two Roman citizens cuffing each other. Friend Wandalar, go; turn them out. Both! There! Now on with the games. Carry the Green out through the Libitinensis. Is he dead? Yes. Go on. The prizes will be awarded at the end. We are in a hurry. If the King should return from Hippo before the time he named--woe betide us!"
"Pshaw!" said Modigisel's neighbor, a bold-looking, elderly nobleman with a haughty, aristocratic bearing. "We need not fear. We Gundings are of scarcely less ancient nobility. I do not bow my head to the Asdings. Least of all before this dissembler."
"You are right, Gundomar!" assented a younger man. "Let us defy the tyrant."
The giant Thrasaric turned his head and said very slowly but very impressively: "Listen, Gundomar and Gundobad; you are my guests but speak ill of Gelimer, and you will fare like those two Romans. So much wine has gone to my head; but nothing shall be said against Gelimer. I will not allow it. He, so full of kindness, a tyrant! What does that mean?"
"It means a usurper."
"How can you say that? He is the oldest Asding."
"After King Hilderic! And was he justly imprisoned and deposed?" asked Gundomar, doubtfully.
"Was not the whole affair a clever invention?" added Gundobad.
"Not by Gelimer! You do not mean to say that?" cried Thrasaric, threateningly.
"No! But perhaps by Verus."
"Yes; all sorts of rumors are afloat. There is said to have been a letter of warning."
"No matter. If your saintly devotee should discover this festival--"
"Then woe betide us! He would deal with you as--"
"He did at the time you wanted to wed your little bride without the aid of the priest," cried Modigisel, laughing.
"I shall be grateful to him all my life for having struck me down then! Eugenias are not to be stolen; we must woo them gently." Nodding to the young girl, he covered her little head and veil with his huge right hand and pressed it tenderly to his broad breast; a radiant glance from the large dark antelope eyes thanked him.
But Modigisel had also discovered the charm which such an expression bestowed upon the innocent, childlike features; his gaze rested admiringly upon Eugenia. The latter raised herself and whispered in her lover's ear.
"Gladly, my violet, my little bird," replied Thrasaric. "If you have promised, you must keep your word. Go with her to the entrance, brother. To keep one's promise is more necessary than to breathe."
The bride, attended by a group of her friends, was led by Thrasabad through one of the numerous cross passages out of the Circus.
"Where is she going?" asked Modigisel, following her with ardent eyes.
"To the Catholic chapel close by, which they have made in the little temple of Vesta. She promised her father to pray there before midnight; she was forced to resign the blessing of her church at her marriage with a heretic." The bride's graceful figure now vanished through the vaulted doorway.
Modigisel began again: "Let me have your little maid, and take my big sweetheart; you will make almost a hundred pounds by the bargain. True, in this climate, one ought to choose a slender sweetheart. Is she a free Roman? Then I, too, willmarryher. I won't stop for that."
"Keep your plump happiness, and leave me my slender one. I have by no means drunk enough from the ocean to make that exchange."
Suddenly Astarte said loudly, "She's nothing but skin and bones!" Both men started; had she understood their low whispers? Again the full lips curled slightly, revealing her sharp eye-teeth.
"And eyes! those eyes!" replied Modigisel.
"Yes, bigger than her whole face. She looks like a chicken just out of the shell!" sneered Astarte. "What is there so remarkable about her?" The beauty's round eyes glittered with a sinister light.
"A soul, Carthaginian," replied the bridegroom.
"Women have no souls," retorted Astarte, gazing calmly at him. "So one of the Fathers of the Church taught--or a philosopher. Some, instead of the soul, have water, like that pygmy. Others have fire." She paused, her breath coming quickly and heavily. Astarte was indeed beautiful at that moment, diabolically, bewitchingly beautiful; the exquisitely moulded, sphinxlike countenance was glowing with life.
"Fire," replied Thrasaric, averting his eyes from her ardent gaze,--"fire belongs to hell."
Astarte made no answer.
"Eugenia is so beautiful because she is so chaste and pure," sighed Glauke, who had heard a part of the conversation. Gazing sorrowfully after the bride, she lowered her long lashes.
"No wonder that you hold her so firmly," Modigisel now said aloud in a jeering tone. "After your attempt to abduct her failed, you besought the old grain-usurer to give you the dainty doll as honorably as any Roman fuller or baker ever wooed the daughter of his neighbor, the cobbler."
"Yes," assented Gundomar; "but he has celebrated the wedding with as much splendor as though he were wedding the daughter of an emperor."
"The splendor of the wedding is more to him than the bride," cried Gundobad, laughing.
"Certainly not," said Thrasaric, slowly. "But one thing is true: since I have known that she is--that she will be mine--the frantic longing for her--yet no--that is not true either, I love her fondly. I suppose it is the wine! The heat! And so much wine!"
"Nothing but wine can help wine," laughed Modigisel. "Here, slaves, bring Bacchus a second Oceanus."
Thrasaric instantly took a deep draught from the goblet.
"Well?" whispered Modigisel. "I will give you for make-weight to Astarte my whole fishpond full of muraense, besides the royal villa at Grasse, for--"
"I am no glutton," replied Thrasaric, indignantly.
"I will add my villa in Decimum; true, I bequeathed it to Astarte; but she will consent. Won't you?"
Astarte nodded silently. Her nostrils were quivering.
Thrasaric shook his shaggy head.
"I have more villas than I can occupy. Hark, the blast of a tuba. The races ought to begin. Here, little brother! He has gone. Horses, wine, and dice are the three greatest pleasures. I would give the salvation of my soul for the best horse in the world. But--" he took another draught, of wine--"the best horse! It has escaped me. Through my own folly! I would give ten Eugenias in exchange."
Astarte laid an ice-cold finger on Modigisel's bare arm; he looked up; she whispered something, and he nodded in pleased astonishment.
"The best horse? What is its name? And how did it escape you?"
"It is called--the Moorish name cannot be pronounced; it is allch! We called it Styx. It is a three-year-old black stallion of Spanish breed, with a Moorish strain, reared in Cyrene. A short time ago, when the valiant king so eagerly began his preparations for war, the Moors were informed that we nobles needed fine horses. Among many others, Sersaon, the grandson of the old chief Cabaon, came to Carthage; he brought of all the good horses the very best."
"Yes! we know them!" the Vandals assented.
"But among the very best the pearl was Styx, the black stallion! I cannot describe him, or I should weep for rage that he escaped me. The Moor who rode him, scarcely more than a boy, said that he was not for sale. As I eagerly urged him, he asked, grinning in mockery, an impossible price, which no one in his sober senses would pay,--an unreasonable number of pounds of gold; I have forgotten how many. I laughed in his face. Then I looked again at the magnificent animal, and ordered the slave to bring the money. I placed the leather bag at once in the Moor's hand; it was in the open courtyard of my house on the Forum of Constantine. Many other horses were standing there, and several of our mounted lancers were in the saddle, inspecting them as they were led up. Then, after I had closed the bargain, I said to my brother with a sigh: 'It's a pity to pay so much money. The animal is hardly worth it.' 'It is worth more, and you shall see!' cried the insolent Moor, as he leaped on the horse and dashed out of the gate of the courtyard. But he still held the purse in his hand."
"That was too much!" said Modigisel.
"The insolence enraged us all. We followed at once,--at least twenty men,--our best horses and riders, some on the splendid Moorish steeds we had just purchased. At the corner of the street he was so near that Thrasabad hurled his spear at him, but in vain! Though at our cries people flocked from all the cross streets to stop him in the main one, there was no checking him. The guards at the southern gate heard the uproar; they sprang to close the doors, were in the act of shutting them, but the superb creature darted through like an arrow. We pursued for half an hour; by that time he had gained so much on us that we could just see him in the distance like an ostrich disappearing in the sands of the desert.
"Enraged, loudly berating the faithless Moor, we rode slowly home on our exhausted steeds. When we reached the house, there in my courtyard stood the Moor, leaning against the black horse; he had ridden in again at the western gate. Throwing the gold at my feet, he said: 'Now do you know the value of this noble animal? Keep your gold! I will not sell him.' He rode slowly and proudly away. So I lost Styx, the best horse in the world. Ha, is this a delusion? Or is it the heavy wine? Down below--in the arena--beside the other racers--"
"Stands Styx," said Astarte, quietly.
"To whom does the treasure belong?" shrieked Thrasaric, frantically.
"To me," replied Modigisel.
"Did you buy him?"
"No. In the last foray the animal was captured with some camels and several other horses."
"But not by you?" roared Thrasaric. "You were at home as usual, in Astarte's broad shadow."
"But I sent thirty mercenaries in my place; they captured the animal, tied in the Moorish camp; and what the mercenary captures--"
"Is his employer's property," said Thrasabad, who had entered the box again.
"So--this wonder--belongs to--you?" exclaimed Thrasaric, wild with envy.
"Yes, and to you as soon as you wish."
Thrasaric emptied a huge goblet of wine.
"No, no," he said; "at least not so--not by my will. She is a free woman, no slave, whom I could give away, even if I should ever desire it."
"Only resign your right to her. It will be easy--for money--to find a reason for annulling the marriage."
"She is a Catholic, he an Arian," whispered Astarte.
"Of course! That will do! And then merely let me--Gelimer cannot always strike down her abductor."
"No! Silence! Not so! But--we might throw dice! Then the dice, chance, would have decided--not I! Oh, I can, I can--think no longer! If I throw higher, each shall keep what he has; if I throw lower, I will--no, no! I will not! Let me sleep!" And overcome by the wine, in spite of the uproar around him, he dropped his huge rose-garlanded head on both arms, which lay folded on the marble front of the box.
Modigisel and Astarte exchanged significant glances.
"What do you expect to gain by it?" asked Modigisel. "He won't exchange for you; only for the horse."
"But she--that nun-faced girl--shall not have him! And my time will come later!"
"If I release you from my patronage."
"You will."
"I don't know yet."
"Oh, yes, you will," she answered coaxingly.
But even as she spoke, she again threw back her head and closed her eyes.
* * * * *
After a brief slumber the bridegroom was shaken rudely by his brother.
"Up!" cried the latter; "Eugenia has come back. Let her take her place--"
"Eugenia! I did not throw dice for her. I don't want the horse. I made no promise."
He started in terror; for Eugenia was standing before him with the Ionian; her large dark-brown eyes, whose whites had a bluish cast, were gazing searchingly, anxiously, distrustfully, into the very depths of his soul. But she said nothing; only her face was paler than usual. How much had she heard--understood? he asked himself.
Thrasabad's slave humbly made way for her.
"I thank you. Aphrodite."
"Oh, do not call me by that name of mockery and disgrace! Call me as my dear parents did at home before I was stolen,--became booty, a chattel."
"I thank you, Glauke."
"The races cannot take place," lamented Thrasabad, to whom a freedman had just brought a message.
"Why not?"
"Because no one will bet against the stallion which Modigisel entered last of all. It is Styx; you know him."
"Yes, I know him! I made no promise, did I, Modigisel?" he asked in a low, hurried tone.
"Yes, certainly! To throw the dice. Recollect yourself!"
"Impossible!"
"You said: 'If I throw higher, each shall keep what he has; if I throw lower--'"
"Oh, God! Yes! It's nothing, little one! Don't heed me."
He turned again to Modigisel, whispering, "Give me back my promise!"
"Never!"
"You can break it," sneered Astarte.
"Serpent!" he cried, raising his clinched fist, but he controlled himself; then, helpless as a bear entangled in a net, the giant turned beseechingly to Modigisel: "Spare me!"
But the latter shook his head.
"I will withdraw the stallion from the races," he said aloud to Thrasabad. "I am satisfied with the fact that no one dares to run against him."
"Then the race can take place, but at the end of the entertainment. First, there are two surprises which I have prepared for you in another place. Come, Glauke, your hand; up, rise! Follow me, all you guests of Thrasaric, follow me to the Amphitheatre."