CHAPTER XII: THE BOWER OF ACRASIA
The house which Pelagia and the Amal had hired after their return toAlexandria, was one of the most splendid in the city. They had been nowliving there three months or more, and in that time Pelagia's taste hadsupplied the little which it needed to convert it into a paradiseof lazy luxury. She herself was wealthy; and her Gothic guests,overburdened with Roman spoils, the very use of which they could notunderstand, freely allowed her and her nymphs to throw away for them thetreasures which they had won in many a fearful fight. What matter? Ifthey had enough to eat, and more than enough to drink, how could theuseless surplus of their riches be better spent than in keeping theirladies in good humour?.... And when it was all gone....they would gosomewhere or other--who cared whither?--and win more. The whole worldwas before them waiting to be plundered, and they would fulfil theirmission, whensoever it suited them. In the meantime they were in nohurry. Egypt furnished in profusion every sort of food which couldgratify palates far more nice than theirs. And as for wine--few of themwent to bed sober from one week's end to another. Could the souls ofwarriors have more, even in the halls of Valhalla?
So thought the party who occupied the inner court of the house, oneblazing afternoon in the same week in which Cyril's messenger had sorudely broken in on the repose of the Scetis. Their repose, at least,was still untouched. The great city roared without; Orestes plotted,and Cyril counterplotted, and the fate of a continent hung--or seemed tohang--trembling in the balance; but the turmoil of it no moretroubled those lazy Titans within, than did the roll and rattle of thecarriage-wheels disturb the parakeets and sunbirds which peopled, underan awning of gilded wire, the inner court of Pelagia's house. Why shouldthey fret themselves with it all? What was every fresh riot, execution,conspiracy, bankruptcy, but a sign--that the fruit was growing ripefor the plucking? Even Heraclian's rebellion, and Orestes' suspectedconspiracy, were to the younger and coarser Goths a sort of child'splay, at which they could look on and laugh, and bet, from morning tillnight; while to the more cunning heads, such as Wulf and Smid, they werebut signs of the general rottenness--new cracks in those great wallsover which they intended, with a simple and boyish consciousness ofpower, to mount to victory when they chose.
And in the meantime, till the right opening offered, what was therebetter than to eat, drink, and sleep? And certainly they had chosena charming retreat in which to fulfil that lofty mission. Columnsof purple and green porphyry, among which gleamed the white limbs ofdelicate statues, surrounded a basin of water, fed by a perpetual jet,which sprinkled with cool spray the leaves of the oranges and mimosas,mingling its murmurs with the warblings of the tropic birds whichnestled among the branches.
On one side of the fountain, under the shade of a broad-leaved palmetto,lay the Amal's mighty limbs, stretched out on cushions, his yellow haircrowned with vine-leaves, his hand grasping a golden cup, which hadbeen won from Indian Rajahs by Parthian Chosroos, from Chosroos by Romangenerals, from Roman generals by the heroes of sheepskin and horsehide;while Pelagia, by the side of the sleepy Hercules-Dionysos, lay leaningover the brink of the fountain, lazily dipping her fingers into thewater, and basking, like the gnats which hovered over its surface, inthe mere pleasure of existence.
On the opposite brink of the basin, tended each by a dark-eyed Hebe,who filled the wine-cups, and helped now and then to empty them, lay theespecial friends and companions in arms of the Amal, Goderic the sonof Ermenric, and Agilmund the son of Cniva, who both, like the Amal,boasted a descent from gods; and last, but not least, that mostimportant and all but sacred personage, Smid the son of Troll,reverenced for cunning beyond the sons of men; for not only could hemake and mend all matters, from a pontoon bridge to a gold bracelet,shoe horses and doctor them, charm all diseases out of man and beast,carve runes, interpret war-omens, foretell weather, raise the winds, andfinally, conquer in the battle of mead-horns all except Wulf the son ofOvida; but he had actually, during a sojourn among the half-civilisedMaesogoths, picked up a fair share of Latin and Greek, and a roughknowledge of reading and writing.
A few yards off lay old Wulf upon his back, his knees in the air,his hands crossed behind his head, keeping up, even in his sleep,a half-conscious comment of growls on the following intellectualconversation:--
'Noble wine this, is it not?'
'Perfect. Who bought it for us?'
'Old Miriam bought it, at some great tax-farmer's sale. The fellow wasbankrupt, and Miriam said she got it for the half what it was worth.'
'Serve the penny-turning rascal right. The old vixen-fox took care, I'llwarrant her, to get her profit out of the bargain.'
'Never mind if she did. We can afford to pay like men, if we earn likemen.'
'We shan't afford it long, at this rate,' growled Wulf.
'Then we'll go and earn more. I am tired of doing nothing.'
'People need not do nothing, unless they choose,' said Goderic. 'Wulfand I had coursing fit for a king, the other morning on the sand-hills.I had had no appetite for a week before, and I have been as sharp-set asa Danube pike ever since.'
'Coursing? What, with those long-legged brush-tailed brutes, like a foxupon stilts, which the prefect cozened you into buying.'
'All I can say is, that we put up a herd of those--what do you call themhere--deer with goats' horns?'
'Antelopes?'
'That's it--and the curs ran into them as a falcon does into a skein ofducks. Wulf and I galloped and galloped over those accursed sand-heapstill the horses stuck fast; and when they got their wind again, we foundeach pair of dogs with a deer down between them--and what can man wantmore, if he cannot get fighting? You eat them, so you need not sneer.'
'Well, dogs are the only things worth having, then, that this Alexandriadoes produce.'
'Except fair ladies!' put in one of the girls.
'Of course. I'll except the women. But the men-'
'The what? I have not seen a man since I came here, except a dock-workeror two--priests and fine gentlemen they are all--and you don't call themmen, surely?'
'What on earth do they do, beside riding donkeys?'
'Philosophise, they say.'
'What's that?'
'I'm sure I don't know; some sort of slave's quill-driving, I suppose.'
'Pelagia! do you know what philosophising is?'
'No--and I don't care.'
'I do,' quoth Agilmund, with a look of superior wisdom; 'I saw aphilosopher the other day.'
'And what sort of a thing was it?'
'I'll tell you. I was walking down the great street there, going to theharbour; and I saw a crowd of boys--men they call them here--going intoa large doorway. So I asked one of them what was doing, and the fellow,instead of answering me, pointed at my legs, and set all the othermonkeys laughing. So I boxed his ears, and he tumbled down.'
'They all do so here, if you box their ears,' said the Amalmeditatively, as if he had bit upon a great inductive law.
'Ah,' said Pelagia, looking up with her most winning smile, 'they arenot such giants as you, who make a poor little woman feel like a gazellein a lion's paw!'
'Well--it struck me that, as I spoke in Gothic, the boy might nothave understood me, being a Greek. So I walked in at the door, to savequestions, and see for myself. And there a fellow held out his hand--Isuppose for money, So I gave him two or three gold pieces, and a boxon the ear, at which he tumbled down, of course, but seemed very wellsatisfied. So I walked in.'
'And what did you see?'
'A great hall, large enough for a thousand heroes, full of theseEgyptian rascals scribbling with pencils on tablets. And at the fartherend of it the most beautiful woman I ever saw--with right fair hairand blue eyes, talking, talking--I could not understand it; but thedonkey-riders seemed to think it very fine; for they went on lookingfirst at her, and then at their tablets, gaping like frogs in drought.And, certainly, she looked as fair as the sun, and talked like anAlruna-wife. Not that I knew what it was about, but one can see somehow,you
know.--So I fell asleep; and when I woke, and came out, I met someone who understood me, and he told me that it was the famous maiden, thegreat philosopher. And that's what I know about philosophy.'
'She was very much wasted then, on such soft-handed starvelings. Whydon't she marry some hero?'
'Because there are none here to marry,' said Pelagia; 'except some whoare fast netted, I fancy, already.'
'But what do they talk about, and tell people to do, these philosophers,Pelagia?'
'Oh, they don't tell any one to do anything--at least, if they do,nobody ever does it, as far as I can see; but they talk about suns andstars, and right and wrong, and ghosts and spirits, and that sort ofthing; and about not enjoying oneself too much. Not that I ever saw thatthey were any happier than any one else.'
'She must have been an Alruna-maiden,' said Wulf, half to himself.
'She is a very conceited creature, and I hate her,' said Pelagia.
'I believe you,' said Wulf.
'What is an Alruna-maiden?' asked one of the girls.
'Something as like you as a salmon is like a horse-leech. Heroes, willyou hear a saga?'
'If it is a cool one,' said Agilmund; 'about ice, and pine-trees, andsnowstorms, I shall be roasted brown in three days more.'
'Oh,' said the Amal, 'that we were on the Alps again for only two hours,sliding down those snow-slopes on our shields, with the sleet whistlingabout our ears! That was sport!'
'To those who could keep their seat,' said Goderic. 'Who went head overheels into a glacier-crack, and was dug out of fifty feet of snow, andhad to be put inside a fresh-killed horse before he could be brought tolife?'
'Not you, surely,' said Pelagia. 'Oh, you wonderful creature! whatthings you have done and suffered!'
'Well,' said the Amal, with a look of stolid self-satisfaction, 'Isuppose I have seen a good deal in my time, eh?'
'Yes, my Hercules, you have gone through your twelve labours, and savedyour poor little Hesione after them all, when she was chained to therock, for the ugly sea-monsters to eat; and she will cherish you, andkeep you out of scrapes now, for her own sake;' and Pelagia threw herarms round the great bull-neck, and drew it down to her.
'Will you hear my saga?' said Wulf impatiently.
'Of course we will,' said the Amal; 'anything to pass the time.'
'But let it be about snow,' said Agilmund.
'Not about Alruna-wives?'
'About them, too,' said Goderic; 'my mother was one, so I must needsstand up for them.'
'She was, boy. Do you be her son. Now hear, Wolves of the Goths!'
And the old man took up his little lute, or as he would probably havecalled it, 'fidel,' and began chanting to his own accompaniment.
Over the camp fires Drank I with heroes, Under the Donau bank Warm inthe snow-trench, Sagamen heard I there, Men of the Longbeards, Cunningand ancient, Honey-sweet-voiced. Scaring the wolf-cub, Scaring thehorn-owl out, Shaking the snow-wreaths Down from the pine-boughs, Upto the star-roof Rang out their song. Singing how Winil men Over theicefloes Sledging from Scanland on Came unto Scoring; Singing of GambaraFreya's beloved. Mother of Ayo Mother of Ibor. Singing of Wendel men,Ambri and Assi; How to the Winilfolk Went they with war-words-- 'Few areye, strangers, And many are we; Pay us now toll and fee, Clothyarn, andrings, and beeves; Else at the raven's meal Bide the sharp bill's doom.'
Clutching the dwarfs' work then, Clutching the bullock's shell, Girdinggray iron on, Forth fared the Winils all, Fared the Alruna's sons, Ayoand Ibor. Mad of heart stalked they Loud wept the women all, Loud theAlruna-wife; Sore was their need.
Out of the morning land, Over the snowdrifts, Beautiful Freya came,Tripping to Scoring. White were the moorlands, And frozen before her;But green were the moorlands, And blooming behind her, Out of her goldenlocks Shaking the spring flowers, Out of her garments Shaking the southwind, Around in the birches Awaking the throstles, And making chastehousewives all Long for their heroes home, Loving and love-giving, Cameshe to Scoring. Came unto Gambara, Wisest of Valas-- 'Vala, why weepestthou Far in the wide-blue, High up in the Elfin-home, Heard I thyweeping.'
'Stop not thy weeping, Till one can fight seven, Sons have I, heroestall, First in the sword-play; This day at the Wendels' hands Eaglesmust tear them; While their mothers, thrall-weary, Must grind for theWendels'
Wept the Alruna-wife; Kissed her fair Freya-- 'Far off in the morningland High in Valhalla, A window stands open, Its sill is the snow-peaks,Its posts are the water-spouts Storm rack its lintel, Gold cloud-flakesabove it Are piled for the roofing. Far up to the Elfin-home, High inthe wide-blue. Smiles out each morning thence Odin Allfather; Fromunder the cloud-eaves, Smiles out on the heroes, Smiles out on chastehousewives all, Smiles on the brood-mares, Smiles on the smith's work:And theirs is the sword-luck, With them is the glory-- So Odin hathsworn it--
Who first in the morning Shall meet him and greet him.'
Still the Alruna wept-- 'Who then shall greet him? Women alone are here:Far on the moorlands Behind the war-lindens, In vain for the bill's doomWatch Winil heroes all, One against seven.'
Sweetly the Queen laughed-- 'Hear thou my counsel now; Take to theecunning, Beloved of Freya. Take thou thy women-folk, Maidens and wives:Over your ankles Lace on the white war-hose; Over your bosoms Link upthe hard mailnets; Over your lips Plait long tresses with cunning;--So war-beasts full bearded King Odin shall deem you, When off the graysea-beach At sunrise ye greet him.'
Night's son was driving His golden-haired horses up. Over the Easternfirths High flashed their manes. Smiled from the cloud-eaves outAllfather Odin, Waiting the battle-sport: Freya stood by him. 'Who arethese heroes tall-- Lusty-limbed Longbeards? Over the swans' bathWhy cry they to me? Bones should be crashing fast, Wolves should befull-fed, Where'er such, mad-hearted, Swing hands in the sword-play.'
Sweetly laughed Freya-- 'A name thou hast given them-- Shames neitherthee nor them, Well can they wear it. Give them the victory, First havethey greeted thee; Give them the victory, Yokefellow mine! Maidens andwives are these-- Wives of the Winils; Few are their heroes And far onthe war-road, So over the swans' bath They cry unto thee.'
Royally laughed he then; Dear was that craft to him, Odin Allfather,Shaking the clouds. 'Cunning are women all, Bold and importunate!Longbeards their name shall be, Ravens shall thank them: Where the womenare heroes, What must the men be like? Theirs is the victory; No need ofme!'
[Footnote: This punning legend may be seen in Paul Warnefrid's _GestaLangobardorum_. The metre and language are intended as imitations ofthose of the earlier Eddaic poems.]
'There!' said Wulf, when the song was ended; 'is that cool enough foryou?'
'Rather too cool; eh, Pelagia?' said the Amal, laughing.
'Ay,' went on the old man, bitterly enough, 'such were your mothers; andsuch were your sisters; and such your wives must be, if you intend tolast much longer on the face of the earth--women who care for somethingbetter than good eating, strong drinking, and soft lying.'
'All very true, Prince Wulf,' said Agilmund, 'but I don't like the sagaafter all. It was a great deal too like what Pelagia here says thosephilosophers talk about--right and wrong, and that sort of thing.'
'I don't doubt it.'
'Now I like a really good saga, about gods and giants, and the firekingdoms and the snow kingdoms, and the Aesir making men and women outof two sticks, and all that.'
'Ay,' said the Amal, 'something like nothing one ever saw in one'slife, all stark mad and topsy-turvy, like one's dreams when one has beendrunk; something grand which you cannot understand, but which sets youthinking over it all the morning after.'
'Well,' said Goderic, 'my mother was an Alruna-woman, so I will not bethe bird to foul its own nest. But I like to hear about wild beasts andghosts, ogres, and fire-drakes, and nicors--something that one couldkill if one had a chance, as one's fathers had.'
'Your fathers would never have killed nicors,' said Wulf, 'if they hadbeen--'
'Like us--I know,' s
aid the Amal. 'Now tell me, prince, you are oldenough to be our father; and did you ever see a nicor?'
'My brother saw one, in the Northern sea, three fathoms long, with thebody of a bison-bull, and the head of a cat, and the beard of a man, andtusks an ell long, lying down on its breast, watching for the fishermen;and he struck it with an arrow, so that it fled to the bottom of thesea, and never came up again.'
'What is a nicor, Agilmund?' asked one of the girls.
'A sea-devil who eats sailors. There used to be plenty of them where ourfathers came from, and ogres too, who came out of the fens into thehall at night, when the warriors were sleeping, to suck their blood, andsteal along, and steal along, and jump upon you--so!'
Pelagia, during the saga, had remained looking into the fountain, andplaying with the water-drops, in assumed indifference. Perhaps it was tohide burning blushes, and something very like two hot tears, which fellunobserved into the ripple. Now she looked up suddenly--
'And of course you have killed some of these dreadful creatures,Amalric?'
'I never had such good luck, darling. Our forefathers were in such ahurry with them, that by the time we were born, there was hardly oneleft.'
'Ay, they were men,' growled Wulf.
'As for me,' went on the Amal, 'the biggest thing I ever killed was asnake in the Donau fens. How long was he, prince? You had time to see,for you sat eating your dinner and looking on, while he was trying tocrack my bones.'
'Four fathom,' answered Wulf.
'With a wild bull lying by him, which he had just killed. I spoilt hisdinner, eh, Wulf?'
'Yes,' said the old grumbler, mollified, 'that was a right good fight.'
'Why don't you make a saga about it, then, instead of about right andwrong, and such things?'
'Because I am turned philosopher. I shall go and hear that Alruna-maidenthis afternoon.'
'Well said. Let us go too, young men: it will pass the time, at allevents.'
'Oh, no! no! no! do not! you shall not!' almost shrieked Pelagia.
'Why not, then, pretty one?'
'She is a witch--she--I will never love you again if you dare to go.Your only reason is that Agilmund's report of her beauty.'
'So? You are afraid of my liking her golden locks better than your blackones?'
'I? Afraid?' And she leapt up, panting with pretty rage. 'Come, we willgo too--at once--and brave this nun, who fancies herself too wise tospeak to a woman, and too pure to love a man! Lookout my jewels! Saddlemy white mule! We will go royally. We will not be ashamed of Cupid'slivery, my girls--saffron shawl and all! Come, and let us see whethersaucy Aphrodite is not a match after all for Pallas Athene and her owl!'
And she darted out of the cloister.
The three younger men burst into a roar of laughter, while Wulf lookedwith grim approval.
'So you want to go and hear the philosopher, prince?' said Smid.
'Wheresoever a holy and a wise woman speaks, a warrior need not beashamed of listening. Did not Alaric bid us spare the nuns in Rome,comrade? And though I am no Christian as he was, I thought it no shamefor Odin's man to take their blessing; nor will I to take this one's,Smid, son of Troll.'
Hypatia — or New Foes with an Old Face Page 13
