The Scarlet Banner Part 15

"There--is--no--no danger!" replied the other, already stammering the words with difficulty. "Come forth. Iris and ye G.o.ds of love!" He waved the staff; it fell from his hand and Glauke laid it by his side.

Suddenly the arched roof of the large silk tent which spanned the arena opened. A rain of flowers--princ.i.p.ally roses and lilies--fell upon the altar, the tables, the dancers; a fragrant liquid, scarcely perceptible as a light mist, was sprinkled from invisible pipes over the arena and the seats of the spectators. All at once, breaking through a gray cloud high up at the back of the arena, appeared a sun, shedding a soft golden light.

"Helios is smiling through the shower of rain," cried Thrasabad; "so Iris is probably not far distant."

At these words the seven-striped bow, glowing magnificently in vivid colors, arched above the whole arena. A young girl, supported by golden clouds, and holding a veil of the seven hues draped gracefully about her head, flew from the right to the left high above the stage. As soon as she had vanished, the rainbow and the sun disappeared too, and while shouts of surprise still rang through the Amphitheatre, a band of charming Loves--children from four to nine years old, boys and girls--were seen floating by chains of roses from the opening of the tent to the steps of the altar. Received by slaves, who released them from the flowery fetters, they grouped themselves on the steps around the m.u.f.fled figure, toward which all eyes were now directed with eager curiosity.

Then Thrasabad, still clasping Glauke, sprang from the drinking table to the altar. The Ionian had just taken a freshly filled goblet from his hand. The roars of applause which now burst forth fairly turned the vain youth's head; he staggered visibly as he stood on the highest step, dragging the struggling girl with him. "Look, brother," he called in an unsteady voice; "this is _my_ wedding gift. In the senator's villa at Cirta--what is his name? He was burned because he clung obstinately to the Catholic faith. Never mind. I bought the villa from the fiscus; it stands on the foundations of a very ancient one, adorned with imperial splendor, superb mosaics, hunting scenes, with stags, hounds, n.o.ble horses, beautiful women under palm-trees! In repairing the cellar this statue was dug out from beneath broken columns; it is said to be more than five hundred years old,--a gem of the best period of Greek art. So my freedman says, who understands such things, an Aphrodite. Show yourself, Queen of Paphos! I give her to you, brother."

He seized a broad-bladed knife which lay on the pedestal, cut a cord, and dropped the knife again. The covers fell; a wonderfully beautiful Aphrodite, n.o.bly modelled in white marble, appeared.

The Loves knelt around the feet of the G.o.ddess, and twined garlands of flowers about her knees. At the same moment a dazzling white light fell from above upon the altar and the G.o.ddess, brilliantly irradiating the arena, which was usually not too brightly illumined by lamps.

The acclamation of thousands of voices burst forth still more tumultuously, the dancers whirled in swifter circles, the drums and cymbals crashed louder than ever; but the sudden increase of uproar and the vivid, dazzling light also reached the open grating of the tiger's cage. He uttered a terrible roar and sprang with a mighty leap against the bars, one of which fell noiselessly out on the soft sand. No one noticed it, for another scene was taking place around the G.o.ddess on the high steps of the altar.

"I thank you, brother," cried Thrasaric. "She is indeed the fairest woman that can be imagined."

"Yes," replied Modigisel. "What do you mean, Astarte? Are you sneering?

What fault can you find there?"

"That is no woman," said the Carthaginian, icily, scarcely parting her lips; "that is only a stone. Go there, kiss it, if it seems to you more beautiful than--"

"Astarte is right," shouted Thrasabad, madly. "She is right! What use is a stone Aphrodite? A lifeless, marble-cold G.o.ddess of love! She clasps her arms forever across her bosom; she cannot open them for a blissful embrace. And what a stern dignity of expression, as though love were the most serious, deadly-earnest, sacred thing. No, marble statue, you are _not_ the fairest woman! The fairest woman--far more beautiful than you--is my Aphrodite here. The fairest woman in the world is mine. You shall acknowledge it with envy! I will, I will be envied for her! You shall all confess it!"

And with surprising strength he dragged the Greek, who resisted with all her power, up beside him, swung her upon the broad pedestal of the statue, and tore wildly at the white silk coverlet which, while on the s.h.i.+p, Glauke had thrown over her shoulders, and the transparent Coan robe.

"Stop! Stop, beloved! Do not dishonor me before all eyes!" pleaded the girl, struggling in despair. "Stop--or by the Most High--"

But the Vandal, who had lost all self-control, laughed loudly. "Away with the envious veil!"

Once more he pulled down the coverlet and the robe. Steel flashed in the light (the Ionian had s.n.a.t.c.hed the knife from the pedestal), a warm red stream sprinkled Thrasabad's face, and the slight figure, already crimsoned with blood, sank at the feet of the marble statue.

"Glauke!" cried the Vandal, suddenly sobered by the shock.

But at the same moment, outside the Amphitheatre rose in a note of menace a brazen, warlike blare, dominating the loudest swell of the music,--for the dance of Satyrs and Bacchantes was still continuing,--the blast of the Vandal horns. And from the doors, as well as from the highest seats, which afforded a view of the grove, a cry of terror from thousands of voices filled the s.p.a.cious building: "The _King_! King Gelimer!"

The spectators, seized with fear, poured out of all the exits.

Thrasaric drew himself up to his full height, lifted the trembling Eugenia on his strong arm, and forced his way through the throng. The voice of the director of the festival was no longer heard. Thrasabad lay prostrate at the feet of the silent marble G.o.ddess, clasping in his arms the beautiful Glauke--lifeless.

Soon he was alone with her in the vast deserted building.

Outside--far away--rose the uproar of voices in dispute, but the silence of death reigned in the Amphitheatre; even the tiger made no sound, as if bewildered by the sudden stillness and emptiness.

It was past midnight.

A light breeze rose, stirring the silk roof of the tent, and sweeping together the roses which lay scattered over the arena.

CHAPTER XVII

Thrasaric's guests were standing in the large open square of the grove, directly in front of the Amphitheatre they had just left, most of them with the expression and bearing of children caught by their master in some forbidden act.

Thrasaric had shaken off the last vestige of intoxication.

"The King?" he murmured in a low tone. "The hero? I am ashamed of myself." He pulled at the rose-wreath on his s.h.a.ggy locks.

Gundomar, sword in hand, approached him with a defiant air.

"Fear was ever a stranger to you, son of Thrasamer. Now we must defy the tyrant. Face him as we do."

But Thrasaric made no answer; he only shook his huge head, and repeated to Eugenia, whom he had placed carefully on the ground by his side: "I am ashamed in the King's presence. And my brother! My poor brother!"

"Poor Glauke!" sighed Eugenia. "But perhaps she is to be envied."

Now the Vandal horns blared again, and nearer. The King, whose approach along the straight Street of the Legions was distinctly seen from a long distance, dashed into the square, far in advance of his soldiers.

Only a few slaves bearing torches had succeeded in following him; his brothers, who had summoned a troop of hors.e.m.e.n, were behind with them.

The King checked his snorting cream-colored charger directly in front of Thrasaric and the n.o.bles so suddenly that it reared.

"Insubordinate men! Disobedient people of the Vandals!" he shouted reproachfully. "Is this the way you obey your sovereign's command? Do you seek to draw upon your heads the wrath of Heaven? Who gave this festival? Who directed it?"

"I gave it, my King," said Thrasaric, moving a step forward. "I deeply repent it. Punish me. But spare him who at my request directed it, my brother. He has--"

"Vanished with the dead girl," interrupted Gundobad. "I wanted to appeal to him also to support with us Gundings the cause of the n.o.bles against the King--"

"For this hour," added Gundomar, "will decide whether we shall be serfs of the Asdings or free n.o.bles."

"Yes, I am weary of being commanded," said Modigisel.

"We are of no meaner blood than his," cried Gundobad, with a threatening glance at the King. Already a large band of kinsmen, friends, and followers, many of whom were armed, was gathering round the Gundings.

Thrasaric was stepping into their midst to try to avert the impending conflict, but he was now surrounded by throngs of his own and his brother's slaves.

"My Lord," they cried, "Thrasabad has disappeared. What shall be done?

The festival--"

"Is over. Alas that it ever began!"

"But the races in the Circus opposite?"

"Will not take place! Lead the horses out! Return them to their owners."

"I will not take the stallion until after we have thrown the dice,"

cried Modigisel. "Ay, tremble with rage. I hold you to your word."

"And the wild beasts?" urged a freedman. "They are roaring for food."