Chapter VII: A Renunciation

A few days after the marriage of the boatswain to the unworthy Princess Cœcilia, Elissa was able to rise from her couch and attire herself with Cleandra’s aid. Very miserable and down-hearted was she when, looking forth from that same window whence some years before she had seen the fleet of the treacherous Carthaginian Adherbal, she could now see nought but warships flying the Roman standard. Looking towards the battlements, she saw now, instead of Carthaginians, only Roman soldiers pacing up and down in their coats of mail, or resting upon their long pikes and looking out over the walls. Upon gazing from another window first towards the citadel and then to the hill of Æsculapius, she saw flying from both, instead of the white horse on the purple ground, the Roman eagle proudly displayed.

She groaned aloud and beat her breast, then covering her eyes, burst into a flood of weeping.

“Oh, Cleandra!” she cried, “it is then indeed a reality, a sad reality! During my great sickness I have thought almost that ’twas but a bad dream. But those Roman ensigns, those Roman soldiers everywhere, are, alas! too convincing. Oh, why are the gods so cruel? Why was I ever born to experience such bitter and great humiliation? Oh, hast thou no poison concealed with which I may end my miserable existence forthwith, rather than live another day to witness my country’s shame and endure mine own dishonour? Give me but a dagger or a sword that I may slay myself, for live I cannot! I long for instant death.”

“Nonsense, dear Elissa,” said Cleandra. “To talk of death at thine age is but folly. Thou must live, if only in the hopes that the day may come when thou shalt see fortune’s wheel spin back the other way again. Thou must live if only for the sake of thy country, to whom thou mayst bring some succour living, but to whom thou wilt be assuredly most useless dead. Besides, I have no poison to give thee, nor is any weapon at hand. All such have been carefully removed by Scipio’s orders.”

“Then, wouldst thou, Cleandra, have me live to see me the slave of Scipio? I, Elissa, daughter of Hannibal, how could I ever survive the terrible indignity? Nay, if there be no poison, if there are no arms, I can yet cast myself from the walls, and I will do so even now.”

Springing forward and opening the door of her apartment, she ran down a corridor, pursued by Cleandra begging her to stay. However, she found the end guarded by Roman soldiers, who respectfully, but firmly, barred her way. Elissa then turned down another corridor which led to a side exit into the garden. There again she found Roman guards. It was now occupied as the barrack-room of the officers’ attendants, the sleeping apartments of some of the generals and superior officers leading out on either side from the corridor.

Caius Lælius himself, hearing a disturbance, came forth.

“What is the matter, Cleandra?” he inquired, seeing that the girl was supporting in her arms the pale-faced and unhappy Elissa, who was leaning back panting against a wall. “I fear that Elissa is distraught, Cleandra,” he continued; “lead her back carefully to her apartment, and see to it that thou dost watch her well.”

Lælius spoke kindly but as one in authority to Cleandra, for she was now his slave. And he gave Cleandra assistance in taking the unhappy girl back to her apartment, where he left her under Cleandra’s care.

Cleandra sought to console her.

“Listen, Elissa, thou saidst but now that thou couldst not survive the indignity of being Scipio’s slave. How think ye do I survive, then, the indignity of being the slave of the Roman Lælius? If I find Caius Lælius kind and considerate to me, whom he hath never seen before, how much more kindness and consideration hast not thou to expect from Scipio? He, it is well known, loves the very ground thou walkest on, and would formerly, hadst thou but been willing, have made thee his wife. Thy fate can, therefore, whatever it be, in no ways be so very terrible. Would to the gods, I say, that thou hadst but listened to him over there at the Court of King Syphax. Then, instead of being in the hands of enemies, we should all have been happy together here as friends, and thou, Elissa, mightest have been Scipio’s wife and queen of all Iberia. For even now the Iberians are commencing to hail him as their king.”

“The fickle populace, Cleandra,” replied Elissa, partly recovering herself, and sitting on her couch, “will ever follow success. Had I but defeated Scipio, which, alas! was quite impossible with the means at my command, they would have doubtless proclaimed me queen of Iberia. ’Tis useless talking of such things. Nought now am I, who was so much formerly, but a slave girl, subject to the will of Scipio. And I love Maharbal.”

“Who scarce can love thee as doth Scipio,” interposed Cleandra; “and ’twould, indeed, be more like the truth, Elissa, wert thou to say that thou didst thyself formerly love Maharbal, and that thou now lovest the recollection of thy love for Maharbal. For how canst thou love him now? ’Tis nearly five years since thou hast seen him, and but one letter hast thou received from him in all those years. Love under such circumstances is an impossibility, unless it be filial love or fraternal love. A feeling of honour, which is to be commended in thee, may make thee fancy that ye still belong to each other; yet ’tis misplaced. For what are the facts as I have learned them from Cœcilia? Taking the law into thine own hands, thou, when a mere girl not yet seventeen, didst give thyself unto Maharbal, and, contrary to thy father Hannibal’s wishes and without his consent, didst call thyself his wife. That marriage was never ratified. Therefore, what art thou, after five years have elapsed, to Maharbal? Again, thine uncle Mago did inform thee that when Hannibal offered to let Maharbal return and espouse thee, he did refuse, and elected rather to remain in Italy. Therefore, what can he be to thee?”

“Yet am I bound to him in honour, and so must I ever consider myself, until either I learn of his death, or until he of his own free will shall give me up.”

Elissa answered thus somewhat doubtingly, for she was beginning to feel the force of Cleandra’s arguments, which had doubtless often occurred to herself.

But Cleandra continued: “I maintain, Elissa, that thou art in no wise bound to Maharbal, and I would impress upon thee that much canst thou do for Carthage even yet by living, since this great Roman General Scipio loves thee. And that he is in turn one worthy to be loved is proved by his conduct with reference to Idalia, whom he relinquished as he did, doubtless, for thine own sake alone.”

Elissa sprang to her feet, the colour, for the first time for days, returning to her cheek.

“And ’tis this very love that Scipio bears to me that I do so dread, Cleandra! For, loving me, how will he spare me now? And I, too, may the gods forgive me, may perchance--” She paused and clutched her breast convulsively. “Nay,” she continued, after a pause, “I will not say what I do not know, and that which, did I know it for certain, were best unsaid. My love is for Maharbal, and my duty is to him--to him alone.”

And she sank back upon her couch, and would speak no more. For she was half convinced by Cleandra, and the longer the conversation continued the less convinced was she with what she maintained herself, therefore she wisely thought that her best refuge lay in silence.

Shortly afterwards, Scipio, who had been exercising his troops, returned to the palace. Being informed by Lælius of what had occurred, he was very much concerned and alarmed for Elissa’s welfare. For there was nothing that he dreaded more than that she might in a fit of desperation take her own life.

His anxiety to see once more this woman, who was the darling of his heart, had now become unbearable. Accordingly, sending her in some choice dishes and wine by the hands of a female slave, he, with many salutations, requested permission to visit her alone in the evening.

“Tell Scipio that his slave is at the disposal of his lordship’s orders, for that Elissa hath now no free will of her own.”

This was the ungracious message that he received in return for his kind words.

Nevertheless, he accepted it as the required permission, and in the evening, when the day’s work was over, repaired to her apartment, where he found her attired, without ornaments of any sort, in the utmost assumed humility.

The interview between them was long and harrowing. Scipio assured her of his love as before, and by all the gods conjured her even yet to be his bride. Every argument that he could think of he brought to bear, and he spoke, too, with all the modesty of a diffident lover, with none of the arrogance of a conqueror. He was so noble in his bearing, so honestly genuine in his immense love for her, that Elissa, who had begun by insulting him, was at length moved. The tears came to her eyes, her bosom heaved, it burst upon her that she too loved him, enemy of her country though he might be. Her hardness melted, and she almost confessed it. Rising, she stretched out her arms to him.

“Oh, Scipio!” she cried, “why art thou so generous, so kind unto me? Oh! what wouldst thou of me? Is it to tear my heart in pieces that thou art come to me thus? and wouldst thou have me own--oh! Scipio, that I also, in defiance of all honour--” Then she suddenly recovered herself, all her pride returning, she dropped her arms to her side, and with the stony look of a statue upon her face, continued: “Forgive me, my lord, that I address thee thus familiarly; I am forgetting myself, indeed. There can be no question between me and thee of my feeling ought but obedience. Thou dost desire thy slave thou sayest, then take thy slave--she is here before thee to obey thy behest, thou canst make of her thy toy, thy plaything, if thou choosest. The body thou canst indeed take, but not the soul; thy will is my law, and I must obey; but my soul will not suffer, for while thou canst take thy slave at thy will, know this, that the soul of Elissa, ay, the real Elissa herself, can never be thine. All that is divine, all that cometh as the attribute of the gods to make a human woman worth the possessing by a noble man, that is what thou canst never have, for it is given and belongeth to another for ever. ’Tis not for thee. Take me then, my lord, shouldst thou so choose, and great will be thy victory.” She gave a low, mocking laugh, and then, with drooping head, resumed her attitude of humility before him; and thus she provoked him.

Driven to madness, especially after having witnessed the tender, indeed the passionate, glance when, in her recent ebullition of feeling, Elissa had seemed on the very point of confessing her love to him, Scipio sprung forward and seized her in his arms, holding her madly, violently.

“By all the gods of Olympus and Hades,” he cried bitterly, “thou shalt then be mine, Elissa, soul or no soul! What thou sayest thyself is true, thou art my slave, and must obey me. Keep thou that divine attribute which thou dost deny to me for thine accursed Maharbal, and I will take what there is left. ’Tis, in sooth, fair enough for my heaven; I would not have the Elyssian maids themselves more fair than thee.”

Convulsively he pressed her in his arms, and wildly sought her lips with his own.

No resistance made Elissa, only when in his violent embrace Scipio hurt her wounded shoulder, she uttered a low cry of pain. Scipio instantly released her, and was at her feet in a moment, all his better instincts returning.

“Oh! do I hurt thee, my beloved? Pardon me, I pray thee, for my utter brutality. May the Olympian Jove himself punish me for my momentary wickedness, yea may the beloved Venus in her divine mercy forgive me for this sacrilege of her most wondrous work, thy lovely person. For know this, Elissa, I vow by all the gods of both Rome and Carthage that I would not willingly harm a single hair of thy head. It is not thus indeed that I would have thee, and I did lie to thee just now. For ’tis, indeed, my whole heart and soul which are burning with passion, it is that spiritual part of thee which thou dost deny me that I would possess rather even than the earthly tenement wherein it is contained. Now wilt thou forgive me, dear one, and give me but that one little word of love I saw trembling on thy lips a short while since?” He pressed her hand tenderly, and never had he looked more noble than at that moment.

But Elissa would not melt. She looked down without the slightest change upon her stony features.

“I have said all I have to say, my lord. I told thee that I am thy slave; I now tell thee, Scipio, that I do not love thee. But I am thine, if thou so will it, according to the promise I made to thee in Numidia.”

Scipio rose to his feet, dropped her hand, and spoke with great and self-contained dignity.

“Then be it so, Elissa; thou art my slave--nothing more! but never shall it be said that a Scipio knew not how to master himself, nor how to treat even an unwilling slave-girl with respect.” And he left her.

When he was gone, Elissa’s whole face changed. With the agony of despair she threw herself upon her knees, and buried her face in the cushions.

“Oh, Melcareth! great and invisible Melcareth! forgive me the lie!--forgive me the lie! For I love him, and thou who hast made me as I am dost know it. But mine honour forbade me to utter the word that would have made both him and me happy--oh, so happy! Oh, Tanais! thou, too, goddess of love, forgive me the dreadful lie!” and she wept bitterly.

And thus on her knees Cleandra found her some time after. For, as frequently happens to good women, the unhappy Elissa, in striving to do that which according to her conscience seemed to her to be right, had unjustly inflicted equal suffering upon herself and upon the man who adored her.

After this painful interview Scipio saw very little of the captive Elissa, whom, however, he ordered to be treated with the greatest deference, in no way taking advantage of the situation to treat her, as she herself had demanded, as a mere slave.

He himself, while constantly exercising the men under his command in military tactics, was always thinking how he should dispose of her person. For all hopes of making her his wife with her own consent were, to his great distress of mind, at an end, and his character was too noble to admit of his taking her in any other way.

The soldiers at this period suffered considerably from the morose humour into which he fell, and there was no end to their exercisings and drillings. By these incessant occupations, however, he soon got his army into a most excellent state of training, and then he determined to march northward again to Tarraco, and prosecute the war against Hasdrubal and Mago. At length he made up his mind about Elissa.

Summoning his friend Caius Lælius before him one day, he spoke as follows:

“Caius, thou hast been my dearest companion from earliest boyhood, and from thee I have no secrets. Therefore, it is nothing new to tell thee the great unhappiness with which it hath pleased the gods to afflict me, owing to the immense and fruitless love that I bear to the Carthaginian maiden. Now, having communed with the gods and offered sacrifices, I plainly see that her continued presence anywhere near me is enervating to me, both as a man and a warrior, rendering me unfit to continue in the command of a large body of troops, and to properly protect the destinies of our nation. I have therefore, my friend, determined to send her away from me entirely, and thou must take her. When I march northward to Tarraco the fleet also will return thither. The exception will be thine own vessel and two others to form thine escort. On the former thou shalt take Elissa and thine own slave girl, Cleandra. On the two other ships will be embarked the Carthaginian Captain Mago, who surrendered the citadel to us, and fourteen others of the superior officers whose names I have noted. They are to be divided between the two ships, and kept, by all means, from access with Elissa, that there may be no chance of any combination between them to escape or to raise a tumult on board.

“Thou wilt sail hence in two days’ time, and as the war between Carthage and Rome hath now broken out with great and renewed fury in Sicily, thou wilt first of all, taking all due precaution, visit the Sicilian ports of Panormus, Lilybæum, Agrigentum, and Syracuse, and acquaint the Roman consuls, or the commanders now in possession of or besieging those places of our great success here. Should they be able to spare any troops to reinforce us, then point out to them the advisability of sending us forthwith as many men as possible, in order that I may complete the conquest of Spain, and, above all things, be able to prevent Hasdrubal from marching to Italy. For I have information that he is thinking of leaving the defence of Iberia to his brother Mago, himself following in his brother Hannibal’s footsteps, and marching through Gallia and over the Alps to reinforce Hannibal, wherever he may be in Italia. After accomplishing these missions, thou wilt sail through the straits, between Messana and Rhegium, and landing at the most convenient port, disembark with thy captives and the spoils of New Carthage which I shall send, and proceed instantly to Rome. There thou wilt acquaint the Senate of all that is needful, and, with their approval, which cannot be withheld, wilt lodge Hannibal’s daughter in the house of my mother to remain a prisoner until my return, whenever it may please the gods to allow me to see my native land once more. And I do beseech thee, for our great friendship’s sake, to beg my mother, as she loveth me, to see to it that Elissa’s captivity be not made unbearable to her, but that she be treated with all fitting kindness.”

“Ay, that will I promise faithfully, Scipio. But stay, I have an idea! Why shouldst not thou hand over the command of the land forces to me and take the girl thyself? Our rank is so nearly equal that the Senate could say nought. In sooth, I think it would be wiser so; and thou wilt have far more prospect of obtaining new reinforcements when thou dost arrive in person with the news of thy great victory. And then during the voyage, who knows, the girl may relent, and, perhaps, long before its termination, of her own free will throw herself into thine arms. For Cleandra hath informed me--the wench speaks Latin well, by-the-bye--that she doth believe that deep down in her heart this Elissa doth really love thee. It would be a grand opportunity to make sure of her affection.”

Scipio’s face flushed; he sprang from his seat, and clasped Lælius by the hand.

“And why not, indeed?” he cried; “I thank thee, Caius. Thou art every whit as able a leader of men as am I. Our rank is equal, too; and ’tis true that were I to go in person now, just after taking New Carthage, I should carry greater weight than thee in the matter of the reinforcements. It seemeth not only feasible but right.”

Scipio looked happier than he had done for days; he looked like a scholar who had obtained an unexpected holiday. Lælius, who was delighted to see him thus, warmly returned the pressure of his hand.

Alas! Scipio’s joy was not long-lived, and the joyous expression soon left his face as reason came to his aid.

“Nay, nay,” he continued, with a deep sigh, “it may not be, my dear friend Caius, for, put it which way thou choosest, ’twould be really leaving my post for the sake of a woman. And ’twould surely end most miserably. For supposing the girl were to continue to prove recalcitrant, it could but end in tragedy, perchance in the death of Elissa herself, or mine own suicide, or maybe both. For the madness of this love hath gotten such a hold upon me, I could not bear to live by her side day by day knowing her mine, and yet not mine! I will not risk it, either for my own sake or Elissa’s; it would indeed be trying myself too high. ’Tis thou who must take her, and I must suffer here alone.”

Thus was the matter decided, and Scipio himself that day communicated his decision to Elissa, in Cleandra’s presence. He spoke to her so kindly, so nobly, showing, moreover, so plainly that in this great act of self-abnegation in sending her away he was thinking as much of her as of himself, that Elissa’s long-sustained pride broke down. The tears came to her eyes.

“Oh, Scipio!” she cried, “would that things might have been different! Yet are we both but the servants of the gods, and must obey the divine will, and bow our heads beneath the almighty hand. Would that I could come to thee with honour, and lay my hand in thine. But thou knowest that with honour I cannot, I may not, do so. And were I known to thee to be a woman without honour, thou wouldst neither love me nor respect me as thou dost now. Moreover, the gods would themselves despise me. But, Scipio, the gods cannot prevent my giving thee a sister’s love. And daily for thy great, thy noble treatment of me while here, thy prisoner and thy slave, will I call down upon my beloved brother’s head the blessings of the most high and invisible Melcareth, and pray and beseech him to protect thee from all dangers. And now as a sister only will I embrace thee with a sacred kiss.”

She threw her arms about his neck, and they stood thus awhile, mingling their tears together, while clinging in a close embrace, which for all Elissa’s brave words, could scarcely be deemed that of mere brother and sister.

Cleandra, kind-hearted girl that she was, utterly overcome by this sad and pathetic scene, sobbed audibly in a corner of the chamber.

At length they separated.

Saying, in a heart-broken voice, “I accept the compact, then fare thee well, oh, Elissa, for we must meet now no more,” Scipio withdrew.

Two days later, without seeing him again, Elissa embarked upon the flagship with Lælius, and that same day Scipio marched for Tarraco.

END OF PART IV.