Volume Iii Part 30 (2/2)
”That would be devilish, but grand! The advice is worthy of you, friend. For that you shall have one of the nine muses of Herodotus from my cellar--my oldest, dearest, most excellent wine. Oh! this secret history shall excite astonishment! The only pity is that I cannot relate the most filthy and most murderous deeds. I should die of disgust. And that which I can write will be always looked upon as immensely exaggerated. And what will posterity say of Procopius, who left a panegyric, a criticism, and an accusation--one and all on Justinian?”
”Posterity will say that he was the greatest historian, but also the son and the victim, of the Empire of Byzantium. Revenge yourself; she has left you your clever head and your left hand. Well, your left hand need not know what your right hand formerly wrote. Draw the picture of this Empress and her husband for all future generations. Then _they_ will not have conquered with their buildings, but _you_ with your secret history. They would have punished limited candour; you will punish them by an unlimited revelation of the truth. Every one revenges himself with his own weapons--the bull with his horns, the warrior with his sword, the author by his pen.”
”Particularly,” said Procopius, ”when he has only his left hand. I thank you, and will follow your advice, Cethegus. I will write the 'Secret History' in revenge for the 'Edifices.' But now it is your turn to tell your story. I know the progress of events, through letters and the report of fugitives from Rome, or legionaries set free by Totila, until the time when you were last seen in your house, or, as they say, were last heard. Now relate what happened afterwards, you Prefect without a city!”
”Immediately,” said Cethegus. ”But tell me first, how did Belisarius succeed in the last Persian war?”
”As usual. You should not need to ask such a question! He had really beaten the enemy, and was on the point of forcing the Persian King, Chosroes, the son of Kabades, to conclude a lasting peace. Just then Areobindos, the Prince of Purple Snails, appeared in the camp with the announcement of an armistice of half a year's duration, granted, unknown to Belisarius, by Byzantium. Justinian had long ago entered into secret negotiations with Chosroes; he needed money; he again pretended to mistrust Belisarius, and let the Persian King escape for a hundred tons of gold, just as we were about to draw the net over him.
Na.r.s.es was wiser. When the Prince of Purple Snails came to him, on the Saracen side of the scene of war, he declared that the amba.s.sador must be either a forger or a madman, took him prisoner, and continued the war until he had completely vanquished the Saracens. Then he sent the imperial amba.s.sador back with an excuse to Byzantium. But the best excuse was the keys and treasures of seventy forts and towns which he had wrested from the enemy during the armistice, which Belisarius had respected.”
”This Na.r.s.es is----”
”The greatest man of our time,” said Procopius, ”the Prefect of Rome not excepted; for he does not, like the latter, wish for impossibilities.
But we--that is, Belisarius and the cripple Procopius--always growling and grumbling, yet always as faithful as a poodle-dog, and never taught by experience, kept the armistice, gnashed our teeth, and returned to Byzantium. And now we wait for new commissions, laurels, and kicks.
Fortunately, Antonina has renounced her inclination for the flowers and verses of other men, and so the couple--the lion and the dove--live very happily together here in Byzantium. Belisarius, day and night, naturally thinks of nothing but how he can again prove his heroism and devotion to his imperial master. Justinian is his folly, as Belisarius is mine. But now for your story.”
CHAPTER VI.
Cethegus took a deep draught from the cup which stood before him, which was made of chased gold and shaped like a tower.
He was considerably changed since that last night in Rome. The wrinkles on his temples were more sharply defined; his lip more firmly closed; his under-lip protruded still farther than before; and the ironical smile, which used to make him look younger and handsomer, very rarely played round the corners of his mouth. His eyes were generally half shut; only sometimes did he raise the lids to dart a glance, which, always dreaded by those upon whom it fell, now appeared more cruel and piercing than ever.
He seemed to have become, not older, but harsher, more inexorable, and more merciless.
”You know,” he began, ”all that happened until the fall of Rome. In one night I lost the city, the Capitol, my house, and my Caesar! The crash of the fall of that image pained me more than the arrows of the Goths, or even of the Romans. As I was about to punish the destroyer of my Caesar, my senses forsook me. I fell at the foot of the statue of Jupiter. I was restored to my senses by the cool breeze that blows over the Tiber, and which once before, twenty years ago, had restored a wounded man.”
He paused.
”Of that another time, perhaps--perhaps never,” he said, hastily cutting short a question from his host. ”This time Lucius Licinius--his brother died for Rome and for me--and the faithful Moor, who had escaped the Black Earl as if by miracle, saved my life. Cast out of the front entrance by Teja--who, in his eagerness to murder the master, had no time to murder the slave--Syphax hurried to the back-door. There he met Lucius Licinius, who had only just then reached my house by a side-street. Together they followed the trace of my blood to the hall of the Jupiter. There they found me senseless, and had just time to lower me from the window, like a piece of baggage, into the court.
Syphax jumped down and received me from the hands of the tribune, who then quickly followed, and they hurried with me to the river.
”There very few people were to be seen, for all the Goths and friendly Romans had followed the King to the Capitol to help to extinguish the flames. Totila had expressly ordered--I hope to his destruction!--that all non-combatants should be spared and left unmolested. So my bearers were allowed to pa.s.s everywhere. It was thought that they carried a dead man. And they themselves, for some time, thought so too. In the river they found an empty fis.h.i.+ng-boat full of nets. They laid me in it. Syphax threw my b.l.o.o.d.y mantle, with the purple hem of the 'princeps senatus,' upon the sh.o.r.e, in order to mislead my enemies. They covered me with sail-cloth and nets, and rowed down the river, through the still burning boats. When we had pa.s.sed them, I came to myself. Syphax bathed my face with the water of the Tiber. My first glance fell on the still burning Capitol. They told me that my first exclamation was, 'Turn back! the Capitol!' And they were obliged to keep me quiet by force. My first clear thought was naturally: 'To return; to take revenge; to re-conquer Rome.' In the harbour of Portus we met with an Italian s.h.i.+p laden with grain. There were seven rowers in it. My companions approached it to beg for wine and bread, for they also were wounded and exhausted. The rowers recognised me. One of them wanted to take me prisoner and deliver me up to the Goths, sure of a rich reward.
But the other six had served under me at the Mausoleum. I had nourished them for years. They slew the man who wanted to betray me, and promised Lucius that they would save me if it were possible. They hid me in heaps of grain while we pa.s.sed the Gothic guards.h.i.+ps which watched at the entrance of the harbour, Lucius and Syphax put on the dress of sailors, and rowed with the others. Thus we escaped. But while on board this vessel I was dangerously ill from my wounds. Only the ceaseless care of Syphax and the sea-air saved me. For days, they say, I only reiterated the words, 'Rome, Capitol, Caesar!' When we landed at Panormus, in Sicily, under the protection of the Byzantines, I rapidly recovered. My old friend Cypria.n.u.s, who had admitted me into Theodoric's palace when I was made Prefect, received me at Panormus as captain of the harbour. Scarcely recovered, I went to Asia Minor--or, as you say, Asiana--to my estates; you know that I had splendid possessions at Sardes, Philadelphia, and Tralles----”
”You have them no longer--the columned villas?”
”I sold them all, for I was obliged at once to find the means of engaging fresh mercenaries, in order to liberate Rome and Italy.”
”Tenax propositi!” cried Procopius, amazed. ”You have not, even now, given up hope?”
”Can I give up myself? I have sent Licinius to enlist a wild and savage race, the Longobardians.”
”G.o.d protect your Italy if _they_ ever set foot in it.”
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