Hypatia, Charles Kingsley [ebook reader for manga txt] 📗

him. But never, while these lecture-rooms last—these Egyptian chambers of imagery—these theatres of Satan, where the devil transforms himself into an angel of light, and apes Christian virtue, and bedizens his ministers like ministers of righteousness, as long as that lecture-room stands and the great and the powerful flock to it, to learn excuses for their own tyrannies and atheisms, so long will the kingdom of God be trampled under foot in Alexandria; so long will the princes of this world, with their gladiators, and parasites, and money-lenders, be masters here, and not the bishops and priests of the living God.’

It was now Peter’s turn to be silent; and as the two, with their little knot of district-visitors behind them, walk moodily along the great esplanade which overlooked the harbour, and then vanish suddenly up some dingy alley into the crowded misery of the sailors’ quarter, we will leave them to go about their errand of mercy, and, like fashionable people, keep to the grand parade, and listen again to our two fashionable friends in the carved and gilded curricle with four white blood-horses.

‘A fine sparkling breeze outside the Pharos, Raphael—fair for the wheat-ships too.’

‘Are they gone yet?

‘Yes—why? I sent the first fleet off three days ago; and the rest are clearing outwards to-day.’

‘Oh!—ah—so!—Then you have not heard from Heraclian?’

‘Heraclian? What the-blessed saints has the Count of Africa to do with my wheat-ships?’

‘Oh, nothing. It’s no business of mine. Only he is going to rebel …. But here we are at your door.’

‘To what?’ asked Orestes, in a horrified tone.

‘To rebel, and attack Rome.’

‘Good gods—God, I mean. A fresh bore! Come in, and tell a poor miserable slave of a governor—speak low, for Heaven’s sake!—I hope these rascally grooms haven’t overheard you.’

‘Easy to throw them into the canal, if they have,’ quoth Raphael, as he walked coolly through hall and corridor after the perturbed governor.

Poor Orestes never stopped till he reached a little chamber of the inner court, beckoned the Jew in after him, locked the door, threw himself into an arm-chair, put his hands on his knees, and sat, bending forward, staring into Raphael’s face with a ludicrous terror and perplexity.

‘Tell me all about it. Tell me this instant.’

‘I have told you all I know,’ quoth Raphael, quietly seating himself on a sofa, and playing with a jewelled dagger. ‘I thought, of course, that you were in the secret, or I should have said nothing. It’s no business of mine, you know.’

Orestes, like most weak and luxurious men, Romans especially, had a wild-beast vein in him—and it burst forth.

‘Hell and the furies! You insolent provincial slave—you will carry these liberties of yours too far! Do you know who I am, you accursed Jew? Tell me the whole truth, or, by the head of the emperor, I’ll twist it out of you with red-hot pincers!’

Raphael’s countenance assumed a dogged expression, which showed that the old Jewish blood still heat true, under all its affected shell of Neo-Platonist nonchalance; and there was a quiet unpleasant earnest in his smile, as he answered—

‘Then, my dear governor, you will be the first man on earth who ever yet forced a Jew to say or do what he did not choose.’

‘We’ll see!’ yelled Orestes. ‘Here, slaves!’ And he clapped his hands loudly.

‘Calm yourself, your excellency,’ quoth Raphael, rising. ‘The door is locked; the mosquito net is across the window; and this dagger is poisoned. If anything happens to me, you will offend all the Jew money-lenders, and die in about three days in a great deal of pain, having missed our assignation with old Miriam, lost your pleasantest companion, and left your own finances and those of the prefecture in a considerable state of embarrassment. How much better to sit down, hear all I have to sayphilosophically, like a true pupil of Hypatia, and not expect a man to tell you what he really does not know.’

Orestes, after looking vainly round the room for a place to escape, had quietly subsided into his chair again; and by the time that the slaves knocked at the door he had so far recovered his philosophy as to ask, not for the torturers, but for a page and wine.

‘Oh, you Jews!’ quoth he, trying to laugh off matters. ‘The same incarnate fiends that Titus found you!’

‘The very same, my dear prefect. Now for this matter, which is really important-at least to Gentiles. Heraclian will certainly rebel. Synesius let out as much to me. He has fitted out an armament for Ostia, stopped his own wheat-ships, and is going to write to you to stop yours, and to starve out the Eternal City, Goths, senate, emperor, and all. Whether you will comply with his reasonable little request depends of course on yourself.’

‘And that again very much on his plans.’

‘Of course. You cannot be expected to—we will euphemise-unless it be made worth your while.’

Orestes sat buried in deep thought.

‘Of course not,’ said he at last, half unconsciously. And then, in sudden dread of having committed himself, he looked up fiercely at the Jew.

‘And how do I know that this is not some infernal trap of yours? Tell me how you found out all this, or by Hercules (he had quite forgotten his Christianity by this time)—by Hercules and the Twelve Gods, I’ll—’

‘Don’t use expressions unworthy of a philosopher. My source of information was very simple and very good. He has been negotiating a loan from the Rabbis at Carthage. They were either frightened, or loyal, or both, and hung back. He knew—as all wise governors know when they allow themselves time—that it is no use to bully a Jew; slid applied to me. I never lend money—it is unphilosophical: but I introduced him to old Miriam, who dare do business with the devil himself; and by that move, whether he has the money or not, I cannot tell: but this I can tell, that we have his secret—and so have you now; and if you want more information, the old woman, who enjoys an intrigue as much as she does Falernian, will get it you.’

‘Well, you are a true friend, after all.’

‘Of course I am. Now, is not this method of getting at the truth much easier and pleasanter than setting a couple of dirty negroes to pinch and pull me, and so making it a point of honour with me to tell you nothing but lies? Here comes Ganymede with the wine, just in time to calm your nerves, and fill you with the spirit of divination …. To the goddess of good counsels, my lord. What wine this is!’

‘True Syrian—fire and honey; fourteen years old next vintage, my Raphael. Out, Hypocorisma! See that he is not listening. The impudent rascal! I was humbugged into giving two thousand gold pieces for him two years ago, he was so pretty—they said he was only just rising thirteen—and he has been the plague of my life ever since, and is beginning to want the barber already. Now, what is the count dreaming of?’

‘His wages for killing Stilicho.’

‘What, is it not enough to be Count of Africa?’

‘I suppose he sets off against that his services during the last three years.’

‘Well, he saved Africa.’

‘And thereby Egypt also. And you too, as well as the emperor, may be considered as owing him somewhat.’

‘My good friend, my debts are far too numerous for me to think of paying any of them. But what wages does he want?’

‘The purple.’

Orestes started, and then fell into thought. Raphael sat watching him a while.

‘Now, most noble lord, may I depart? I have said all I have to say; and unless I get home to luncheon at once, I shall hardly have time to find old Miriam for you, and get through our little affair with her before sunset.’

‘Stay. What force has he?’

‘Forty thousand already, they say. And those Donatist ruffians are with him to a man, if he can but scrape together wherewith to change their bludgeons into good steel.’

‘Well, go …. So. A hundred thousand might do it,’ said he, meditating, as Raphael bowed himself out. ‘He won’t get them. I don’t know, though; the man has the headof a Julius. Well—that fool Attalus talked ofjoining Egypt to the Western Empire …. Not such a bad thought either. Anything is better than being governed by an idiot child and three canting nuns. I expect to be excommunicated every day for some offence against Pulcheria’s prudery …. Heraclian emperor at Rome .... and I lord and master on this side the sea. the Donatists pitted again fairly against the orthodox, to cut each other’s throats in peace …. no more of Cyril’s spying and tale-bearing to Constantinople …. Not such a baddish of fare …. But then-it would take so much trouble!’

With which words, Orestes went into his third warm bath for that day.

CHAPTER III: THE GOTHS

For two days the young monk held on, paddling and floating rapidly down the Nile-stream, leaving city after city to right and left with longing eyes, and looking back to one villa after another, till the reaches of the banks hid them from his sight, with many a yearning to know what sort of places those gay buildings and gardens would look like on a nearer view, and what sort of life the thousands led who crowdedthe busy quays, and walked and drove, in an endless stream, along the great highroads which ran along either bank. He carefully avoided every boat that passed him, from the gilded barge of the wealthy landlord or merchant, to the tiny raft buoyed up with empty jars, which was floating down to be sold at some market in the Delta. Here and there he met and hailed a crew of monks, drawing their nets in a quiet bay, or passing along the great watery highway from monastery to monastery: but all the news he received from them was, that the canal of Alexandria was still several days’ journey below him. It seemed endless, that monotonous vista of the two high clay banks, with their sluices and water-wheels, their knots of palms and date-trees; endless seemed that wearisome succession of bars of sand and banks of mud, every one like the one before it, every one dotted with the same line of logs and stones strewn along the water’s edge, which turned out as he approached them to be basking crocodiles and sleeping pelicans. His eye, wearied with the continual confinement and want of distance, longed for the boundless expanse of the desert, for the jagged outlines of those far-off hills, which he had watched from boyhood rising mysteriously at morn out of the eastern sky, and melting mysteriously into it again at even, beyond which dwelt a whole world of wonders, elephants and dragons, satyrs and anthropophagi,—ay, and the phoenix itself. Tired and melancholy, his mind returned inward to prey on itself, and the last words of Arsenius rose again and again to his thoughts. ‘Was his call of the spirit or of the flesh?’ How should he test that problem? He wished to seethe world that might be carnal. True; but, he wished to convert the world …. was not that spiritual? Was he not going on a noble errand? .... thirsting for toil, for saintship, for martyrdom itself, if it would but come and cut the Gordian knot