The Count of the Saxon Shore; or The Villa in Vectis.<br />A Tale of the Departure of the Romans fro, Church and Putnam [summer beach reads TXT] 📗

before the walls. Brennus throwing his sword into the scales was moderation in comparison to him. ‘Give [pg 260]me,’ he said, ‘all the gold and silver, coined or uncoined, private property or public that you have, and all the other property that the envoys whom I shall send think worth taking; and hand over to me all the slaves that you have of the nations of the North, Goths, or Huns, or Vandals. You are pleased to call them barbarians, but they are more fit to be masters than you; and I will not suffer them to be in a bondage so unworthy. Your Greeks, and Africans, and Asiatics, and such like cattle you may keep.’ The ambassadors were pale with dismay. If they had taken back such an answer, the Romans had at least enough spirit left to tear them in pieces. ‘What do you leave us, then?’ they said. ‘Your lives!’ he thundered out. In the end, however, he softened somewhat. Five thousand pounds of gold and thirty thousand pounds of silver, and I don’t know how much silk, and cloth, and spices, were what he finally asked. I know the city was stripped pretty bare before the Senate could make up the sum. I am told that the treasuries of the churches had to be emptied. Well, as I said, Alaric, if he keeps his bargain, ought to be quiet for a time, but you will see that the Emperor has need of all his friends round him, and all the strength which he can bring together. That is what I have to say by way of explanation of the despatch that I brought.”

“May I ask you to leave us for a while?” said the Count to the young Italian.

[pg 261]

When he had left the room the Count turned to his daughter, and said—

“And this is our country! This is Rome! The Emperor, forsooth, has need of all his friends. His friends indeed! I little thought that the day would come when I should feel ashamed of the title. But tell me, daughter; what shall we do? Shall we go?”

“What else can we do?” asked the girl.

“I have thought much about the matter since I heard the dreadful news of Stilicho’s death, and have had all kinds of wild schemes in my head. I have felt that I could not go back and touch in friendship the hands that murdered him. Sometimes I thought, while Cedric was here, that we would take him with us, and sail eastward. I have had many a hard fight with these Saxons, but at least they are men, and brave men, too, who are true to their friends, if they hate their enemies. But that is now at an end. But is there no other way to go? What say you, Claudian—have you any counsel to give us?”

“I would not advise you to sail eastward,” said the poet. “We know pretty well what lies that way; tribes of barbarians, of whom the less we see the better, with all respect to your friend Cedric, who seems to have been a fine fellow. But why not westward? You will laugh at me for believing in the Islands of the Blest. Well, I do not mean to say that there is [pg 262]a country where Achilles and the rest of the heroes are living in immortal joy and peace. If there is, it is not one which any ship, built by the art of man, can reach. But I do believe that there is a country. These old tales, depend upon it, have something more in them than mere fancy. Why, my lord, should not you be the one to find it?”

“Yes, let us go, dear father,” said Ælia, “and leave this dreadful world with all its troubles and quarrels behind us. Don’t you think so, Carna?”

Carna only smiled sadly.

“Or,” continued the poet, “there is the land beyond the north, the country of the blessed Hyperboreans, that old Herodotus talks about. Why should we not go there? Or, if that sounds too wild, there is Africa, with regions rich and fertile beyond all doubt that are waiting to be explored. These at least are no matter of legend. We know where they are. Let us search for them. Whatever world we may find, it can hardly be worse than that which we are leaving behind.”

“And what says Carna?” said the Count, turning, with an affectionate look, to his adopted daughter.

The girl thus appealed to flushed painfully. For a moment she seemed about to speak, but not a syllable passed her lips.

“Speak,” cried the Count; “you always see clearer and farther than the rest of us.”

[pg 263]

“My father,” the girl went on, “I will speak from my heart, as I know you always wish me to do. Forgive me if I seem to teach when it is my part to learn and to obey. But, if you ask what I think you should do, I say, ‘Go home to Rome or Ravenna, or wherever else the Emperor bids you.’ After all, it is your country, and it never needed the help of good and brave men more than it does now.”

“By heaven! Claudian,” cried the Count, after a brief silence, “the girl is right, as she always is. These are not the times for an honest man to turn his back upon his country. If I could reach the Islands of the Blest, or the happy people who live beyond the north, as easily as I can walk across this room, I would not do it; and after all, what is the world without Rome to a Roman? What say you, Claudian?”

“I am but a poor singer, who has lost all that made him sing. I could do little in any case, and I doubt whether those who killed Stilicho will have anything but the axe for Stilicho’s friend. Still, I go with you. It is not for a Roman to say that Rome is unworthy.”