Part 54 (1/2)

But Agias reasoned otherwise. If Pothinus and Achillas had really consented to receive the Magnus, flight was indeed necessary. Agias, however, had grounds, he thought, for hesitancy. He knew that Achillas, the head of the army, bitterly opposed the idea of letting Pompeius land; he knew, what was almost as much to the point, that Pratinas did not care to renew certain acquaintances.h.i.+ps contracted at Rome. Therefore the young h.e.l.lene calmed Cornelia's fears, and waited as best he might.

The council had convened early in the day; the herald went through the squares of Pelusium announcing that Ptolemaeus, ”Son of Ra,” would receive as his guest the Roman suppliant. The sh.o.r.e fronting the anchorage was covered with the files of the royal army in full array.

Several Egyptian men-of-war had been drawn down into the water and their crews were hastening on board. Out in the haven rode the little fleet of the Pompeians. Agias had heard the proclamation, and hurried down to the mole to bear the earliest definite information to his mistress. Presently, out of the throng of officers and court magnates on the quay, stepped Achillas in a splendid panoply of gilded armour, with a purple chiton flowing down from beneath. Beside him, with the firm swinging step of the Roman legionary, strode two other officers in magnificent armour, whom Agias at once recognized as Lucius Septimius, a Roman tribune now in Egyptian service, and a certain Salvius, who had once been a centurion of the Republic. The three advanced on to the quay and stood for a moment at a loss. Agias, who was quite near, could hear their conversation.

”The yacht is not ready for us.”

”We cannot delay a moment.”

There was a large open boat moored to the quay, a fisher man's craft.

In a moment a few subalterns had taken possession of it and there was a call for rowers. Agias, who, like all his race, never declined a chance ”to see or hear some new thing,” took his seat on one of the benches, and soon the craft shot away from the mole with the three officers in its stern.

It was a short pull to the Pompeian s.h.i.+ps; Agias, as he glanced over his shoulder thought he could see a motion on board the vessels as if to sheer away from the boat; but in a moment the little craft was alongside, under the lee of the flags.h.i.+p.

”Where is Pompeius Magnus?” cried Achillas, rising from his seat; ”we are sent to carry him to the king.”

A martial, commanding figure was seen peering over the side,--a figure that every inhabitant of Rome knew right well.

”I am he; but why do you come thus meanly with only a fisher's boat?

Is this honourable, is this worthy of a great king's guest?”

”a.s.suredly, kyrios,” began Achillas, ”we are forced to come in this small craft, because the water is too shallow for larger s.h.i.+ps to approach the sh.o.r.e.”

Agias knew that this was a lie; he was very certain that he was about to be witness to a deed of the darkest treachery. A vague feeling of shrinking and horror froze his limbs, and made his tongue swell in his mouth. Yet he was perfectly powerless to warn; a sign or a word would have meant his instant death.

”_Salve_, Imperator!” shouted Septimius in Latin, rising in turn.

”Don't you remember the campaign I had with you against the pirates?”

The fugitive general's care-worn face lighted up at the recognition of an old officer.

”_Eu!_” he answered, ”I shall not want for good friends, I see! How glad I shall be to grasp your hands! But is not this a very small boat? I see men going on board the galleys by the sh.o.r.e.”

”You shall be satisfied in a moment, kyrios,” repeated Achillas, with suave a.s.surance, ”that the quicksands by the mole are very dangerous to large vessels. Will you do us the honour to come aboard?”

Agias felt as though he must howl, scream, spring into the sea--do anything to break the horrible suspense that oppressed him.

A woman was taking leave of Pompeius on the deck, a tall, stately, patrician lady, with a sweet, trouble-worn face; Agias knew that she was Cornelia Scipionis. She was adjuring her husband not to go ash.o.r.e, and he was replying that it was impossible to refuse; that if the Egyptians meant evil, they could easily master all the fugitives with their armament. Several of the Magnus's servants came down into the boat--couple of trusted centurions, a valued freedman called Philip, a slave named Scythes. Finally Pompeius tore himself from his wife's arms.

”Do not grieve, all will be well!” were his words, while the boat's crew put out their hands to receive him; and he added, ”We must make the best choice of evils. I am no longer my own master. Remember Sophocles's iambics,

”He that once enters at a tyrant's door Becomes a slave, though he were free before.'”

The general seated himself on the stern seat between the Egyptian officers. Agias bent to his oar in sheer relief at finding some way in which to vent his feelings; and tugged at the heavy paddle until its tough blade bent almost to cracking. The silence on the part of the officers was ominous. Not a word, not a hint of recognition, came from Achillas or his Italian a.s.sociates, from the instant that Pompeius set foot in the boat. The stillness became awkward. The Magnus, flushed and embarra.s.sed, turned to Septimius. ”I was not mistaken in understanding that you were my fellow-soldier in years past?” His answer was a surly nod. Pompeius, however, reined his rising feelings, and took up and began to re-read some tablets on which he had written an address in Greek, to be delivered before the king. Agias rowed on with the energy of helpless desperation. They were very close to the quay. A company of the royal body-guard in gala armour stood as if awaiting the distinguished visitor. For a moment the young h.e.l.lene believed that Achillas was sincere in his errand.

The boat drew up to the landing; one or two of the rowers sprang to the dock and made her fast. Agias was uns.h.i.+pping his oar. His thought was that he must now contrive the escape of Cornelia. Pompeius half rose from his seat; the boat was pitching in the choppy harbour swell; the general steadied himself by grasping the hands of Philip the freedman. Suddenly, like the swoop of a hawk on its prey, Agias saw the right hand of Septimius tear his short sword from its sheath. A scream broke from the h.e.l.lene's lips; before the Magnus could turn his head, the blow was struck. Pompeius received the blade full in the back, and staggered, while Salvius and Achillas likewise drew and thrust at him. Agias gazed on, paralyzed with horror. The general seized his red paludamentum, threw it over his face, groaned once, and fell. Even as he did so Septimius struck him across the neck, decapitating the corpse. The brutal boatmen tore the blood-soaked clothes off of the body, and flung it overboard, to drift ash.o.r.e with the current. And so it ended with Pompeius Magnus, Imperator, the Fortunate, the favourite general of Sulla, the chieftain of ”G.o.dlike and incredible virtue,” the conquerer of the kingdoms of the East, thrice consul, thrice triumphator, joint ruler with Caesar of the civilized world!

Agias hastened back to Cornelia to tell her that the danger was past, that there was no need of a flight to Cleopatra; but he was sick at heart when he thought of the treachery in which he had shared, albeit so unwillingly.

Chapter XXIII