Chapter IX: The Tyrant

In a room in the imperial palace, lighted from above, and far removed from any of the chambers usually inhabited by the emperors, upon a luxurious couch of down, covered with crimson, and strewed with the flowers of the hyacinth, whose sweet perfume mingled with that of a thousand other flowers, gave the whole chamber an atmosphere of delicious but overpowering perfume, lay Valentinian, the weak, luxurious, vicious monarch of the West, clothed in a light and floating robe of silk, and with his odour-dropping hair bound effeminate with a fillet twined with flowers.

He seemed to listen eagerly for some sounds; and in a moment or two the trampling of feet, some sobbing cries, and a voice in the tone of expostulation, were heard. The next instant the door of the room--for it was one closed by a door furnished with locks and bolts--was thrown open, and a litter was borne in and set down in the midst of the chamber.

The slaves of Valentinian, for--though not habited in the usual garb of the imperial household--they were but the ministers of his pleasure, instantly withdrew, and, starting from the litter, a lovely girl, terror in her aspect, and her eyes dewed with tears, stood gazing wildly round the room, as if seeking some means of escape. She was yet in her early youth, and modesty and innocence were written in every line of her fair countenance. But neither modesty, nor innocence, nor youth had any effect upon the corrupt and selfish man before her, who, as soon as the slaves were gone, advanced, and taking her hand, endeavoured to sooth her, pouring into her ear all the vile but honeyed words of a consummate corrupter.

Snatching her hand from his, and shrinking back from him into one corner of the room, Eudochia gazed upon him in silent terror, as she would have gazed upon some poisonous serpent suddenly crossing her path. But Valentinian still pursued, exclaiming, "But listen to me, fair Eudochia. It is the emperor seeks your love. It is Valentinian who commands your obedience. The wealth and splendour of a world shall be poured out at your feet, the love of your sovereign shall encircle you with all earth's choicest gifts;" and he went on with words on which we will not dwell to wrong her innocent ear with evil persuasions.

For a time Eudochia gazed in silence, as if terror and horror had deprived her of the use of her intellect; but as Valentinian concluded, and was again approaching her, she suddenly seemed to recollect herself, and, with a quick start forward, cast herself at his feet.

"Hear me, oh emperor!" she cried, "hear me, if there be one spark of noble feeling left in your bosom. If you be a monarch, if you be an emperor, if you be a man, hear me, and set me free! I cannot love you, I ought not to love you, but as a subject loves an emperor. You are already wedded; my heart is already given to another! Wrong not your empress, wrong not me, by seeking love that never can be yours. Let me go! oh, let me go! and show yourself really worthy of your high station. You cannot--surely you will not be the first to violate the laws which you are bound to maintain. How would you punish another were he to treat me even as your slaves have done? Oh let me beseech, let me entreat, let me adjure you, by all you hold sacred, to set me free! Hear me, hear me! Oh, monarch, hear me!"

And with uplifted hands and streaming eyes she went on, urging him to justice and compassion; but even her terror and distress had charms for the base tyrant. He attempted to throw his arms around her; he kissed her fair brow as she kneeled imploring at his feet. But at that act Eudochia felt all the spirit of her race rise up within her, as she saw her prayers unheeded and her appeals to justice only provoking deeper insult. She sprang upon her feet, she freed herself from his arms, she snatched from his girdle, even in the struggle to cast him off, a small Eastern dagger which the weak tyrant wore. "Stand back!" she cried--"stand back! or, by the memory of my father, who died to save his country, I will drive this blade into thy heart, thou Tarquin!"

"Girl, you dare not!" cried Valentinian, drawing back; "you dare not raise your hand against your emperor!"

"All girl as I am, I dare raise my hand against any tyrant on the earth," replied Eudochia, "let him clothe himself with whatsoever name he will. Come not near me, or you die! Tyrant, I am resolved! My honour is as dear to me as life to you! Let me go free, or Valentinian shall this day cease to live and reign!"

"Well, well! thou shalt go!" said the emperor, in a softened tone; "but I must call the slaves, to make them open the door from without. Promise me that thou wilt not strike me as I approach the door."

"I will not," replied Eudochia, "so as you set me free."

"You shall be free," answered Valentinian, moving towards the door--"you shall be free."

But when between Eudochia and the entrance of the room, within a single step of either, he suddenly turned, sprang upon her, wrenched the dagger from her grasp, and casting it on the other side of the couch, exclaimed, "Now, girl! now! what punishment shalt thou undergo for daring to hold a dagger to the breast of thine emperor?"

Eudochia gazed round in hopeless despair. But then came a sound of hasty steps and angry voices; and, with sudden hope rushing through her bosom, she uttered scream after scream, to attract the notice of any one who might be passing near. Valentinian seemed not to have heard or not to heed the sounds, for he pursued his evil course; but while he endeavoured to silence the unhappy object of his passions, the door of the chamber was shaken violently.

The bolts and locks resisted; but another and another blow came crashing upon the woodwork. Valentinian, with a cheek as pale as death, retreated towards the couch, and sought for the dagger, which was the only weapon he had worn. The next moment the door gave way, and the brother of Eudochia, followed by twenty or thirty of the armed Huns, rushed into the chamber. His sword was drawn and bloody in his hand; and stretched across the long passage might be seen the corpse of one of the base instruments of the tyrant's vices, who had dared to resist the passage of the Roman, hastening to the deliverance of his sister.

Theodore caught her in his arms, and Eudochia wept upon his bosom. But such thoughts as had inspired the bosoms of his ancestors were in his heart at that moment, and he gave her little time to weep.

"Are you safe, my sister?" he cried, with his eyes still glaring on Valentinian. "Are you pure! By the memory of our father, I adjure you! are you unpolluted?"

"I am, Theodore! I am!" she answered: "thanks to God and to you, I am!"

"Vile slave!" cried Valentinian, attempting to assume the air of empire; "who are you? How dare you--"

But Theodore cut him short. "Base, effeminate, soulless tyrant!" he answered, "well may you thank God that I arrived in time to save you from the crime you sought to commit! Well may you thank God! for your cowardly and pitiful life had surely been ended here had you succeeded in injuring her; and your soul had been sent to hell burdened with the sin it had just perpetrated."

Valentinian trembled and turned pale, the coward blood forsaking his heated cheek at the stern aspect of the young Roman. He attempted, however, though in a weak and faltering voice, to call for his guards and his officers; but Theodore replied, with a look of withering scorn, "You call in vain, tyrannical disgrace of Rome--you call in vain. The means that you have taken to ensure that your crime should be effected in silence and secrecy, have left you as powerless as the lowest slave in your dominions. All the better and the purer part of your court, sent forth to take part in the procession, have left you alone in this wing of the palace, with none but the slavish ministers of your pleasures near thee. They are in the hands of my followers, except yon rash fool, lying there in his blood who attempted to stop a brother flying to his sister's rescue. Thou art in my power," he added, "to take or leave thy pitiful life as I will; and couldst thou but see how contemptible a thing thou hast made thyself, as thou standest there, quivering with fear and guilt before thine injured subject, shame would surely supply the place of virtue, and thou wouldst blush for the crimes that have degraded thee so low."

"Traitor!" exclaimed Valentinian, with the blood rushing up into his face--"traitor, thou shalt rue this day!"

"Monarch, I shall not," replied Theodore, "were even your power as extended as it is weak and circumscribed; were the Romans found base enough to suffer a tyrant to oppress a citizen for defending a helpless girl, and that girl his sister, you dare not, no, you dare not openly raise a hand against my life. Know that in me you see one whom Attila, at whose very name you tremble, looks upon as his son. Letters are already in thy court announcing my coming, and bidding thee do me justice in all things; and thou darest as soon raise thy hand against me as thou darest offer thy neck to the axe."

"So," cried the base monarch, glad, like all weak minds convicted of crime, to seek revenge in scorn, where they have no refuge in justice, and no power of retaliation--"so thou art one of those degenerate Romans who fight against their country in the ranks of the barbarians!"

"Monarch, thou liest," answered Theodore, boldly. "I have never fought against my country. My sword has never been drawn, my spear has never been pointed against a Roman breast. I have saved the life of Attila; I have saved the life of his son; but I have taken no part in his wars, and defy thee to show that I have ever been guilty of one act against my country. Little, too, would it become thee, oh emperor, to reproach any one for betraying his native land. Hast thou not given tribute to the barbarian? hast thou never sacrificed the innocent to the fury of the Huns? hast thou never encouraged the hordes of Scythia to invade the Roman territories. But I leave thee, oh monarch. My sister is safe. Thy crimes are averted; and, as if clad in a panoply of iron, my innocence defies thy power and scorns thy menaces. Come, Eudochia, come. The litter and the slaves which brought thee hither as the object of a base monarch's passion shall carry thee back as pure as when thou camest."

Throwing his arm round her, but without sheathing the sword he carried in his right hand, lest any opposition should be made to his retreat, Theodore placed her in the litter; and, at a word to some of his followers, the slaves of Valentinian who had borne her thither were brought in, raised their fair burden from the ground, and obeyed at once the young Roman in bearing her away homeward. The dark Huns who had accompanied him surrounded them on every side; and Theodore himself, after casting one more look of mingled scorn and indignation upon the tyrant from whom he had just snatched his prey, followed his sister from the palace without obstruction, and almost without notice, so carefully had Valentinian removed from the precincts of those apartments every one who might behold, or report, or interrupt the commission of the crime he had meditated.

While his own slaves had been compelled to bear Eudochia away, the weak monarch of the West had remained, with impotent fury burning in his bosom, and eyes glaring angrily upon that which he could not prevent. His features had worked, his hands had wrung each other, his colour had varied under the influence of passion like the complexion of a timid girl. He had more than once sought for the hilt of the dagger, too, as if he would fain have struck it into the heart of the bold youth who taunted him so scornfully. But fear had restrained his violence; and, when Eudochia was gone, he remained for several minutes motionless as a statue, gazing down upon the floor, without any perceptible movement except a slight pressure of his hands together, and the sterner knitting of his angry brow.

What were all the dark and the painful thoughts, the burning bitter shame, the lowered but still fierce and venomous pride, that now raged within, it matters not to inquire; suffice it, that so intense and potent were they, that they seemed to absorb his whole soul and mind; and there he remained, as we have said, for many minutes, without speech or movement. At length, however, the imprisoned tempest burst forth, and stamping violently upon the ground, he poured forth a torrent of curses and imprecations upon himself, upon Theodore, upon Eudochia, upon the whole world; and then, casting himself down upon that flower-strewed couch, he raved and gnashed his teeth, in the agony of anger, degradation, and disappointment. After a time, starting up again, he leaned his brow for a moment or two upon his hand, as if in thought, and then called loudly for his attendants.

"Ho, without there!" he exclaimed; "is nobody near? Is everybody fled? Are ye all fools, or cowards, or traitors? Does nobody answer to the voice of the emperor?"

As his voice ran along the passages of the building, with slow and fearful steps a single eunuch crept out from some corner, in which he had concealed himself; and stepping with evident terror over the body of the fallen slave, who had been slain in attempting to prevent the entrance of Theodore, he approached the door at which the monarch stood, and cast himself at his feet.

"Pitiful, cowardly wretch!" exclaimed Valentinian, "why didst thou abandon thy lord, to be insulted by that frantic boy; or, if thou hadst not power to resist him and his barbarians, why didst thou not fly, by the opposite passage, to the chief apartments, and call up the chamberlain and his guards?"

"I had but time to hide myself in the bath, from which there is no outlet," replied the eunuch. "My comrade was smitten to the ground in a moment; and I should have shared the same fate, without serving thee, oh great monarch! if I had not darted away where first I could find refuge."

"Well, get thee gone quick," replied the emperor. "Call up hither, instantly, the prefect of the palace, and also the chamberlain. Lose not a moment."

The eunuch hastened to obey; and after having been absent some time, which Valentinian passed sitting on the edge of the couch in deep and angry thought, he returned with several inferior domestics, but neither of the two high officers he had been sent to seek.

"Where is the prefect, where the chamberlain?" exclaimed Valentinian, with his eyes flashing and his brows knit into a more bitter frown than ever. "Do all my servants neglect and abandon me?"

"Both the prefect and the guardian of the secret chamber," replied the slave, "as well as the count of the domestics, and all the other high officers of the palace, are gone, by your own imperial order, to grace the procession around the capitol."

Valentinian again stamped with rage; but, after a few moments' consideration, he sent away the greater part of the attendants, and calling to him one in whom he seemed to have more confidence than the rest, he demanded, "Dost thou remember, Elius, whither we were told that wild youth, Ammian Flavius, had gone this morning?"

"I know well, oh emperor," replied the domestic--"I know well; for the men who lured him thither were sent by myself to get him out of the way. The inhabitants of two of the villages at the foot of Pincianus hold to-day, we hear, a secret sacrifice to Jupiter; and this wild youth, whom anything that is strange or extravagant will mislead, was easily induced to go out to behold it, notwithstanding the penalties of death pronounced against all present."

"Hark!" said Valentinian; "as soon as the procession is over, send out to Pincianus men enough to drown all these incorrigible pagans in their own blood. Let them slay all they find. Jupiter shall have victims enough; but on no account let them touch this Ammian. Take especial care to save him. Let him be brought into the city guarded. He shall be empaled alive! We will put down these sacrifices--but hark thee again, there is more to be done! Get thee gone, eunuch. Thou art a coward, and not fit to listen to the deeds of brave men. Elius, a youth has been here and snatched the girl from my hands--her brother, it would seem--that Theodore whom we have heard of. He has borne her back to the Aventine. He has insulted me, the emperor. He has slain one of the slaves, and he must die, Elius. But on account of this Attila, it must be no public act. He must die, Elius! but it must be by some chance accident, or in some casual strife. He must die, Elius, he must die! Let not the sun rise upon him again: I leave it to thee, my faithful servant--I leave it to thee to do justice upon the traitor. There is a fair estate not far from Aricia. Thou knowest it well--rich in wine, in oil, and corn--it is thine if this Theodore be dead ere to-morrow morning. See to it!"

"I will find means," replied Elius, calmly.

Valentinian gazed in his face; and finding there a look of assurance which had never failed him, he felt as satisfied as if the deed were done, and with a slow step he sought the other part of the palace.