by Eugène Sue
Albinik’s offer having been translated to Caesar by the interpreter, the latter proceeded:
“We accept your test. It shall be done to-morrow morning. If it proves your skill as a pilot — and we shall take all precautions against treachery, lest you should wish to trick us — perhaps you will be charged with a mission which will serve your hatred, all the more seeing that you can have no idea of what that mission is. But for that it will be necessary to gain the entire confidence of Caesar.”
“What must I do!”
“You must know the forces and plans of the Gallic army. Beware of telling an untruth; we already have reports on that subject. We shall see if you are sincere; if not, the chamber of torture is not far off.”
“Arrived at Vannes in the morning, arrested, judged, and punished almost immediately, and then driven from the Gallic camp, I could not learn the decisions of the council which was held the previous evening,” promptly answered Albinik. “But the situation was grave, for the women were called to the council; it lasted from sun-down to dawn. The current rumor was that heavy re-enforcements to the Gallic army were on the way.”
“Who were those re-enforcements?”
“The tribes of Finisterre and of the north coasts, those of Lisieux, of Amiens, and of Perche. They said, even, that the warriors of Brabant were coming by sea.”
After translating to Caesar Albinik’s answer, the interpreter resumed:
“You speak true. Your words agree with the reports which have been made to us. But some scouts returned this evening and have brought the news that, two or three leagues from here, they saw in the north the glare of a conflagration. You come from the north. Do you know anything about that?”
“From the outskirts of Vannes up to three leagues from here,” answered Albinik, “there remains not a town, not a borough, not a village, not a house, not a sack of wheat, not a skin of wine, not a cow, not a sheep, not a rick of fodder, not a man, woman, or child. Provisions, cattle, stores, everything that could not be carried away, have been given up to the flames by the inhabitants. At the hour that I speak to you, all the tribes of the burned regions are rallied to the support of the Gallic army, leaving behind them nothing but a desert of smouldering ruins.”
As Albinik progressed with his account, the amazement of the interpreter deepened, his terror increased. In his fright he seemed not to dare believe what he heard. He hesitated to make Caesar aware of the awful news. At last he resigned himself to the requirements of his office.
Albinik did not take his eyes from Caesar, for he wished to read in his face what impression the words of the interpreter would make. Well skilled in dissimulation, they say, was the Roman general. Nevertheless, as the interpreter spoke, stupefaction, fear, frenzy and doubt betrayed themselves in the face of Gaul’s oppressor. His officers and councillors looked at one another in consternation, exchanging under their breaths words which seemed full of anguish. Then Caesar, sitting bolt upright on his couch, addressed several short and violent words to the interpreter, who immediately turned to the mariner:
“Caesar says you lie. Such a disaster is impossible. No nation is capable of such a sacrifice. If you have lied, you shall expiate your crime on the rack.”
Great was the joy of Albinik and Meroë on seeing the consternation and fury of the Roman, who could not make up his mind to believe the heroic resolution, so fatal to his army. But the couple concealed their emotions, and Albinik answered:
“Caesar has in his camp Numidian horsemen, with tireless horses. Let him send out scouts instantly. Let them scour not only the country which we have just crossed in one night and day of travel, but let them extend their course into the east, to the boundary of Touraine. Let them go still further, as far as Berri; and so much further as their horses can carry them; they will traverse regions ravaged by fire, and deserted.”
Hardly had Albinik pronounced these words, when the Roman general shot some orders at several of his officers. They rushed from the tent in haste, while he, relapsing into his habitual dissimulation, and no doubt regretful of having betrayed his fears in the presence of the Gallic fugitives, affected to smile, and stretched himself again on his lion skin. He held out his cup to one of his cup-bearers, and emptied it after saying to the interpreter some words which he translated thus:
“Caesar empties his cup to the honor of the Gauls — and, by Jupiter, he gives them thanks for having done just what he wished to do himself. For old Gaul shall humble herself vanquished and repentant, before Rome, like the most humble slave — or not one of her towns shall remain standing, not one of her warriors living, not one of her people free.”
“May the gods hear Caesar,” answered Albinik. “Let Gaul be enslaved or devastated, and I shall be avenged on the Chief of the Hundred Valleys — for he will suffer a thousand deaths in seeing subdued or destroyed that fatherland which I now curse.”
While the interpreter was translating these words, the general, either to hide all the more his fears, or to drown them in wine, emptied his cup several times, and began to cast at Meroë more and more ardent looks. Then, a thought seeming to strike him, he smiled with a singular air, made a sign to one of the freedmen, and spoke to him in a low voice. He also whispered a few hurried words to the Moorish slave-girl, until then seated at his feet, whereupon she and the freedman left the tent.
The interpreter thereupon returned to Albinik: “So far your answers have proved your sincerity. If the news you have just given is confirmed, if to-morrow you show yourself a capable and courageous pilot, you will be able to serve your revenge. If you satisfy Caesar, he will be generous. If you play us false your punishment will be terrible. Did you see, at the entrance to the camp, five men crucified!”
“I saw them.”
“They are pilots who refused to serve us. They had to be carried to the crosses, because their legs, crushed by the torture, could not sustain them. Such will be your lot and that of your companion, upon the least suspicion.”
“I fear these threats no more than I expect a gift from the magnificence of Caesar,” haughtily returned Albinik. “Let him try me first, then judge me.”
“You and your companion will be taken to a nearby tent; you will be guarded there like prisoners.”
At a sign from the Roman, the two Gauls were led away and conducted through a winding passage covered with cloth, into an adjacent tent, where they were left alone.
CHAPTER III.
GALLIC VIRTUE.
SO GREAT WAS the distrust in which Albinik and his wife held everything Roman, that before passing the night in the tent to which they had been taken, they examined it carefully. The tent, round of form, was decorated inside with woolen cloth, striped in strongly contrasting colors. It was fixed on taut cords which were fastened to stakes driven into the earth. The cloth of the tent did not come down close to the ground, and Albinik remarked that between the coarsely tanned hides which served as a carpet, and the lower edge of the tent, there remained a space three times the width of his palm. There was no other visible entrance to the tent but the one the couple had just crossed, which was closed by two flaps of cloth overlapping each other. An iron bed furnished with cushions was half enveloped in draperies, with which one could shut himself in by pulling a cord hanging over the head of the bed. A brass lamp, raised on a long shaft stuck into the ground, feebly lighted the interior of the tent.
After examining silently and carefully the place where he was to pass the night with his wife, Albinik said to her in a whisper:
“Caesar will have us spied upon to-night. They will listen to our conversation. But no matter how softly they come, or how cunningly they hide themselves, no one can approach the cloth from the outside to listen to us, without our seeing, through that gap, the feet of the spy,” and he pointed out to his wife the circular space left between the earth and the lower rim of the tent cloth.
“Do you think, then, Albinik, that Caesar has any suspicions? Could he suppose that a man would have the
courage to mutilate himself in order to induce confidence in his feelings of revenge?”
“And our brothers, the inhabitants of the regions which we have just traversed, have they not shown a courage a thousand times greater than mine, in giving up their country to the flames? My one hope is in the absolute need our enemy has of Gallic pilots to conduct his ships along the Breton coasts. Now especially, when the land offers not a single resource to his army, the way by sea is perhaps his only means of safety. You saw, when he learned of that heroic devastation, that he could not, even he, always so dissembling, they say, hide his consternation and fury, which he then tried to forget in the fumes of wine. And that is not the only debauchery to which he gives himself up. I saw you blush under the obstinate looks of the infamous debauchee.”
“Oh, Albinik! while my forehead reddened with shame and anger under the eyes of Caesar, twice my hand sought and clasped under my garments the weapon with which I am provided. Once I measured the distance which separated me from him — it was too great.”
“At the first movement, before reaching him, you would have been pierced with a thousand sword thrusts. Our project is worth more. If it thrives,” added Albinik, throwing a meaning glance at his companion, and instead of speaking low as he had been doing up till now, raising his voice little by little, “if our project thrives, if Caesar has faith in my word, we will be able at last to avenge ourselves on my tormentor. Oh, I tell you, I feel now for Gaul the hatred with which the Romans once inspired me!”
Surprised by Albinik’s words, Meroë stared at him in amazement. But by a sign he showed her, through the empty space left between the ground and the cloth, of the tent, the toes of the sandals of the interpreter, who had approached and now listened without. At once the young woman replied:
“I share your hate, as I have shared your heart’s love, and the peril of your mariner’s life. May Hesus cause Caesar to understand what services you can render him, and I shall be the witness of your revenge as I was the witness of your torture.”
These words, and many others, exchanged by the couple to the end of deceiving the interpreter, apparently reassured the spy of the honesty of the two prisoners, for presently they saw him move away.
Shortly thereafter, at the moment that Albinik and Meroë, fatigued with their long journey, were about to throw themselves into bed in their clothes, the interpreter appeared at the entry. The uplifted cloth disclosed several Spanish soldiers.
“Caesar wishes to converse with you immediately,” said the interpreter to the mariner. “Follow me.”
Albinik felt certain that the suspicions of the Roman general, if he had any, had just been allayed by the interpreter’s report, and that the moment had come when he was to learn the mission with which they wished to charge him. Accordingly, he prepared to leave the tent, and Meroë with him, when the interpreter said to the young woman, stopping her with a gesture:
“You may not accompany us. Caesar wishes to speak with your companion alone.”
“And I,” answered the seaman, taking his wife by the hand, “I shall not leave Meroë.”
“Do you really refuse my order?” cried the interpreter. “Beware, beware!”
“We go together to Caesar,” began Meroë, “or we go not at all.”
“Poor fools! Are you not prisoners at our mercy?” said the interpreter to them, pointing to the soldiers, motionless at the door of the tent. “Willingly or unwillingly, I will be obeyed.”
Albinik reflected that resistance was impossible. Death he was not afraid of; but to die was to renounce his plans at the moment when they seemed to be prospering. Nevertheless, the thought of leaving Meroë alone in the tent disturbed him. The young woman divined the fears of her husband, and feeling, like him, that they must resign themselves, said:
“Go alone. I shall wait for you without fear, true as your brother is an able armorer.”
Reassured by his wife’s significant words, Albinik followed the interpreter. The door flaps of the tent, for the moment raised, fell back into place. Immediately, from behind them, she heard a heavy thud. She ran towards the place, and saw that a thick wicker screen had been fastened outside, closing the door. The young woman was at first surprised with this precaution, but she presently thought that it would be better to remain thus secured while awaiting Albinik, and that perhaps he himself had asked that the tent be closed till his return.
Meroë accordingly seated herself thoughtfully on the bed, full of hope in the interview which undoubtedly her husband was then having with Caesar. Suddenly her revery was broken by a singular noise. It came from the part directly in front of the bed. Almost immediately, the cloth parted its whole length. The young woman sprang to her feet. Her first movement was to seize the poniard which she carried under her blouse. Then, trusting in herself and in the weapon which she held, she waited, calling to mind the Gallic proverb, “He who takes his own life in his hands has nothing to fear but the gods!”
Against the background of dense shadows on which the tent cloth parted, Meroë saw the young Moorish slave approach, wrapped in her white garments. As soon as the slave had put her foot in the tent, she fell upon her knees, and stretched out her clasped hands to Albinik’s companion. Touched by the suppliant gesture and the grief imprinted on the face of the slave, Meroë felt neither suspicion nor fear, but compassion mingled with curiosity, and she laid her poniard at the head of the bed. The Moorish girl advanced, creeping on her knees, her two hands still extended towards Meroë, who, full of pity, leaned towards the suppliant, meaning to raise her up. But when the slave had sufficiently approached the bed where the poniard was, she raised herself with a bound, and leaped to the weapon. Evidently she had not lost sight of it since entering the tent, and before Albinik’s stupefied companion could oppose her, the poniard was flung into the outer darkness.
By the peal of savage laughter which burst from the Moorish girl when she had thus disarmed Meroë, the latter saw that she had been betrayed. She ran toward the dark passage to recover her poniard, or to flee. But out of those shadows, she saw coming — Caesar.
Stricken with fear, the Gallic woman recoiled several steps, Caesar advanced likewise, and the slave disappeared by the opening, which was immediately closed again. By the uncertain step of the Roman, by the fire in his looks, the excitement which impurpled his cheeks, Meroë saw that he was inebriate. Her terror subsided. He carried under his arm a casket of precious wood. After silently gazing at the young woman with such effrontery that the blush of shame again mounted to her forehead, the Roman drew from the casket a rich necklace of chased gold. He went closer to the lamp-light in order to improve its glitter in the eyes of the woman whom he wished to tempt. Then, simulating an ironical reverence, he stooped and placed the necklace at the feet of the Gaul. Rising, he questioned her with an audacious look.
Meroë, standing with arms crossed on her breast, heaving with indignation and scorn, looked haughtily at Caesar, and spurned the collar with her foot.
The Roman made an insulting gesture of surprise; he laughed with an air of disdainful confidence; and then drew from the casket a magnificent gold net-work for the hair, all encrusted with carbuncles. After making it sparkle in the lamp-light, he deposited the second trinket also at the feet of Meroë. Redoubling his ironical respect, he rose, and seemed to say:
“This time I am sure of my triumph!”
Meroë, pale with anger, smiled disdainfully.
Then Caesar emptied at the young woman’s feet all the contents of the casket. It was like a flood of gold, pearls, and precious stones, of necklaces, zones, earrings, bracelets, jewels of all sorts.
This time Meroë did not push away the gewgaws with her foot. She ground under the heel of her boot as many of the trinkets as she could rapidly stamp upon, and drove back the infamous debauchee, who was advancing toward her with confidently open arms.
Confused for a moment, the Roman put his hand to his heart, as if to protest his adoration. The woman of Gaul a
nswered the mute language with a burst of laughter so scornful that Caesar, intoxicated with lust, wine and anger, seemed to say:
“I have offered riches, I have offered prayers. All in vain; I shall use force.”
Albinik’s wife was alone and disarmed. She knew that her cries would bring her no help. Her resolve was soon taken. The chaste, brave woman leaped upon the bed, seized the long cord which served to lower the draperies, and knotted it around her neck. Then she quickly climbed upon the head of the bed-stead, ready to launch herself into the air, and strangle herself by the weight of her own body at Caesar’s first step towards her. So desperate was the resolution depicted on Meroë’s face that the Roman general for an instant remained motionless. Then, urged either by compunction for his violence; or by the certainty that, if he attempted force, he would have but a corpse in his possession; or, as the unscrupulous libertine later pretended, by a generous impulse that had guided him throughout; — whatever his motive, Caesar stepped back several paces, and raised his hand to heaven as if to call the gods to witness that he would respect his prisoner. Still suspicious, the Gallic woman kept herself in readiness to give up her life. The Roman turned towards the secret opening of the tent, disappeared into the shadows for a moment, and gave an order in a loud voice. Immediately he returned, but kept himself at a wide distance from the bed, his arms crossed on his toga. Not knowing whether the danger she ran was not still to be increased, Meroë remained standing on the bed-stead with the cord about her neck. After a few minutes she saw the interpreter enter, accompanied by Albinik; with one bound she sprang to her husband.
“Your wife is a woman of manful virtue,” said the interpreter to Albinik. “Behold those treasures at her feet; she has spurned them. Great Caesar’s love she has scorned. He pretended to resort to violence. Your companion, disarmed by a trick, was prepared to take her own life. Thus gloriously has she come out of the test.”
