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, Meroe 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 Meroe, 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 Meroe 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 Meroe."

"Do you really refuse my order?" cried the interpreter. "Beware, beware!"

"We go together to Caesar," began Meroe, "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 Meroe 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.

Meroe 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, Meroe 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, Meroe 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 Meroe, 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 Meroe, 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, Meroe 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.

Meroe, 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 Meroe. Redoubling his ironical respect, he rose, and seemed to say:

"This time I am sure of my triumph!"

Meroe, 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 Meroe 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 answered 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 Meroe'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, Meroe 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."

"The test?" answered Albinik, with an air of sinister doubt. "The test? Who, here, has the right to test the virtue of my wife?"

"The thought of vengeance, which have brought you into the Roman camp, are the thoughts of a haughty soul, roused by injustice and barbarity. The mutilation which you have suffered seemed above all to prove the truth of your words," resumed the interpreter. "But fugitives always arouse a secret suspicion. The wife often is a test of the husband. Yours is a valiant wife. To inspire such fidelity, you must be a man of courage and of truth. That is what we wished to make sure of."

"I don't know," began the mariner doubtfully, "the licentiousness of your general is well known----"

"The gods have sent us in you a precious aid; you can become fatal to the Gauls. Do you believe Caesar is foolish enough to wish to make an enemy of you by outraging your wife, at the very moment, perhaps, when he is about to charge you with a mission of trust? No, I repeat: he wished to try you both, and so far the trials are favorable to you."

Caesar interrupted the interpreter, saying a few words to him. Then bowing respectfully to Meroe, and saluting Albinik with a friendly gesture, he slowly and majestically left the tent.

"You and your wife," said the interpreter, "are henceforth assured of the general's protection. He gives you his word for it. You shall no more be separated or disturbed. The wife of the courageous mariner has scorned these rich ornaments," added the interpreter, collecting the jewels and replacing them in the casket. "Caesar wishes to keep as a reminder of Gallic virtue the poniard which she wore, and which he took from her by ruse. Reassure yourself, she shall not remain unarmed."

Almost at the same instant, two young freedmen entered the tent. They carried on a large silver tray a little oriental dagger of rich workmanship, and a Spanish saber, short and slightly curved, hung from a baldric of red leather, magnificently embroidered in gold. The interpreter presented the dagger to Meroe and the saber to Albinik, saying to them as he did so:

"Sleep in peace, and guard these gifts of the grandeur of Caesar."

"And do you assure him," returned Albinik, "that your words and his generosity dissipate my suspicions. Henceforth he will have no more devoted allies than my wife and myself, until our vengeance be satisfied."

The interpreter left, taking with him the two freedmen. Albinik then told his wife that when he had been taken into the Roman general's tent, he had waited for Caesar, in company with the interpreter, up to the moment when they both returned to the tent, under the conduct of a slave. Meroe told in turn what had occurred to her. The couple concluded that Caesar, half drunk, had at first yielded to a foul thought, but that Meroe's desperate resolve, backed up by the reflection that he was running the risk of estranging a fugitive from whom he might reap good service, had curbed the Roman's passion. With his habitual trickery and address, he had given, under the pretext of a "trial," an almost generous appearance to the odious attempt.