Standard Selections Part 13

Though of gentle birth, for her cradle was rocked at the foot of Olympus, Nydia had been sold when quite young to Burbo, a gladiator of the amphitheater. She was cruelly treated by the wife of Burbo.

Glaucus bought her, took her to his home, and her sweetest joy was to minister to the comfort and entertainment of her deliverer. The vines that grew upon the walls of the peristyle were not more graceful, their tendrils not more trusting and tender, nor the flowers woven into wreaths and garlands by her skillful fingers more beautiful than the blind flower-girl of the house of Glaucus.

As the months went on what wonder that the kind words and sympathetic voice which had been the first that had sounded musically to her ear should awaken in the breast of Nydia a deeper love than that which springs from grat.i.tude alone! What wonder that in her innocence and blindness she knew no reason why the most brilliant and the most graceful of the young n.o.bles of Pompeii should entertain none other than feelings of friends.h.i.+p for her! When the Athenian drew her unconsciously to his breast, deeming her still a child--when he kissed her cheek and wound his arm around her trembling form, Nydia felt that those feelings she had innocently cherished were of love.

What wonder then that into her wild and pa.s.sionate soul should creep the pangs of jealousy when another claimed the homage of him who was all to her!

Glaucus loved Ione, a beautiful young Neapolitan of Greek parentage who had lately come to Pompeii. She was one of those brilliant characters which seldom flash across our career. She united in the highest perfection the rarest of earthly gifts,--Genius and Beauty. No one ever possessed superior intellectual qualities without knowing them. In the person of Ione, Glaucus found the long-sought idol of his dreams; and so infatuated was he, that he could talk of no one else. No song was sweet but that which breathed of love, and to him love was but a synonym of Ione.

"Play to us, dear Nydia,--play, and give us one of thy songs; whether it be of magic or not as thou wilt--let it at least be of love."

"Of love! wish you that I should sing of love?"

"Yes."

She moved a little way from Ione, who had learned to love her more as a sister than a slave, and placing her light, graceful instrument on her knee, after a short prelude, she sang the following strain, in which with touching pathos, her own sighs were represented by the _Wind_, the brightness of the beautiful Ione by the _Sun-beam_, and the personality of Glaucus by his favorite flower, the _Rose_.

I

The Wind and the Beam loved the Rose, And the Rose loved one; For who seeks the Wind where it blows?

Or loves not the Sun?

II

None knew where the humble Wind stole, Poor sport of the skies-- None dreamt that the Wind had a soul, In its mournful sighs!

III

Oh, happy Beam! how canst thou prove That bright love of thine?

In thy light is the proof of thy love, Thou hast but--to s.h.i.+ne!

IV

How can the Wind its love reveal?

Unwelcome its sigh; Mute--mute to its Rose be it still-- Its proof is--to die!

Alike in their mornings at the house of Ione, and in their evening excursions, Nydia was usually their constant, and often their sole companion. They did not guess the secret fires which consumed her; the flames of which were ever fanned by the unconscious breath of the two lovers. Yet her fidelity arose above her pitiful pangs of jealousy and in the hour of need she was the tried and trusted.

The scene changes; where only the brightness of uninterrupted love had hitherto fallen, now creep the black shadows of tragic sorrow.

Ione falls into the clutches of Arbaces, a subtle, crafty Egyptian, who attempted by the magic of his dark sorcery, to win her away from Glaucus. In pursuit of his base designs, Arbaces murders Apaecides, the brother of Ione, imprisons the priest Calenus, the only witness of the deed, and with great cunning weaves a convicting web of circ.u.mstantial evidence around Glaucus, his hated rival. Glaucus is tried, convicted, and doomed to be thrown to the lion. Ione and Nydia are also prisoners in the house of Arbaces. Glaucus has been placed in that gloomy and narrow cell in which the criminals of the arena awaited their last and fearful struggle.

Alas! how faithless are the friends.h.i.+ps made around an epicurean board!

Where were the gay loiterers who once lingered at the feasts and drank the rich wines of the house of Glaucus? Only Sall.u.s.t shed a tear, but he was powerless against Arbaces who was backed by the corrupt priesthood of Isis.

What ministering angel should now come forth as a light out of darkness bearing, even in her blindness, the conditions of deliverance, but Nydia. From the slaves of Arbaces she learned the approaching fate of Glaucus. Working upon the superst.i.tion of her special guard Sosia, she manages to escape his vigilance for a time, and creeping along a dark pa.s.sage she overhears the cries of the priest Calenus lately incarcerated in an adjoining dungeon cell. From him she learns the circ.u.mstances of the crime of Arbaces for which the innocent Glaucus was doomed to die. A few hours later she was captured by Sosia and replaced in her cell.

Yet knowing that the sole chance for the life of Glaucus rested on her, this young girl, frail, pa.s.sionate, and acutely susceptible as she was--resolved not to give way to despair. Glaucus was in deadly peril, but she should save him! Sosia was her only hope, the only instrument with which she could tamper.

As if afraid he would be again outwitted, Sosia refrained from visiting her until a late hour of the following day.

"Kind Sosia, chide me not," said Nydia, "I cannot endure to be so long alone, the solitude appalls me. Sit with me, I pray, a little while.

Nay, fear not that I should attempt to escape; place thy seat before the door. Sosia, how much dost thou require to make up thy freedom?"

"How much?" said he, "why, about 2000 sesterces."

"The G.o.ds be praised! not more? Seest thou these bracelets and this chain? they are worth double that sum. I will give them thee if thou wilt let me out, only for one little hour! let me out at midnight--I will return ere to-morrow's dawn; nay, thou canst go with me."

"No," said Sosia, st.u.r.dily, "a slave once disobeying Arbaces is never heard of more."

"Well, then, thou wilt not, at least, refuse to take a letter for me; thy master cannot kill thee for that."

"To whom?"

"To Sall.u.s.t, the gay Sall.u.s.t. Glaucus was my master, he purchased me from a cruel lord. He alone has been kind to me. He is to die to-morrow.

I shall never live happily if I cannot, in this hour of trial and doom, let him know that one heart is grateful to him. Sall.u.s.t is his friend; he will convey my message."

"Well, give me the trinkets, and I will take the letter."

Nydia carefully prepared the epistle, but ere she placed it in the hands of Sosia she thus addressed him:

"Sosia, I am blind and in prison. Thou mayst think to deceive me--thou mayst pretend only to take the letter to Sall.u.s.t--thou mayst not fulfill thy charge; but here I solemnly dedicate thy head to vengeance, thy soul to the infernal powers, if thou wrongest thy trust; and I call upon thee to place thy right hand of faith in mine, and repeat after me these words;--'_By the ground on which we stand--by the elements which contain life and which can curse life--by Orcus, the all-avenging--by the Olympian Jupiter, the all-seeing--I swear that I will honestly discharge my trust, and faithfully deliver this letter into the hands of Sall.u.s.t_.' Enough! I trust thee--take thy reward. It is already dark--depart at once."

Sosia was true to his trust--Sall.u.s.t read the letter, she wrote,--"_I am a prisoner in the house of Arbaces. Hasten to the Praetor! procure my release, and we yet shall save Glaucus from the lion. There is another prisoner within these walls, whose witness can exonerate the Athenian from the charge against him;--one who saw the crime--who can prove the criminal to be a villain hitherto unsuspected. Fly! hasten! quick!

quick! Bring with you armed men, lest resistance be made,--and a cunning and dexterous smith; for the dungeon of my fellow-prisoner is thick and strong. Oh! by thy right hand, and thy father's ashes, lose not a moment!_"

The day for the sports in the amphitheater had come and all the seats were filled with eager and expectant people. The gladiatorial fights and other games of the arena were completed.

"Bring forth the lion and Glaucus the Athenian," said the editor.

Just then a loud cry was heard at one of the entrances of the arena; the crowd gave way and suddenly Sall.u.s.t appeared on the senatorial benches, his hair disheveled; breathless; half exhausted--he cast his eyes hastily around the ring.

"Remove the Athenian," he cried, "haste,--he is innocent. Arrest Arbaces the Egyptian. He is the murderer of Apaecides."

"Art thou mad, O Sall.u.s.t?" said the praetor, "what means this raving?"

"Remove the Athenian--quick, or his blood be on your head. I bring with me the eye-witness to the death of Apaecides. Room there--stand back--give way. People of Pompeii, fix every eye on Arbaces--there he sits--room there for the priest Calenus."

"Enough at present," said the praetor. "The details must be reserved for a more suiting time and place. Ho! guards! remove the accused Glaucus, arrest Arbaces, guard Calenus! Sall.u.s.t, we hold you responsible for your accusation. Let the sports be resumed."