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Zenobia

W >> William Ware >> Zenobia




A blast of the desert struck us at the moment, and well nigh buried us in
its rushing whirlwind of sand. We stood still, closed our eyes, and buried
our faces in the folds of our garments.

'Horrible and out of nature!' I cried--'the sun blazing without a cloud as
big as a locust to dim his ray, and yet these gusts, like the raging of a
tempest. The winds surely rise. Providence be our guide out of this valley
of fire and death!'

'There is no providence here,' said the slave, 'nor any where; else why
these savage and dreary deserts, which must be crossed, and yet we die in
doing it.'

'Hold thy peace, blasphemer!' I could not but rejoin, 'and take heed
lest thy impious tongue draw down a whirlwind of God to the destruction
of us both.'

'The curse of Arimanes'--began the irritated slave--when suddenly he
paused, and cried out in another tone: 'Look! look! Isaac, and see now
for thyself: I am no Jew, if there sit not a woman at the root of
yonder tree,'

I looked, and now that we had drawn nearer, and the wind had subsided for
an instant, I plainly beheld the form of a woman, bent over as if in the
act of holding and defending an infant. I believed it a delusion of Satan.

'It is awful,' said I; 'but let us hasten; if it be a reality, our coming
must be as the descent of angels.'

I pressed on my weary animal, and in a few moments we stood before
what seemed indeed a human being, of flesh and bone--and what was
more wonderful still, a woman. Yet she stirred not, nor gave other
sign of life.

'Is the breath of life yet in you?' I cried out--not doubting, however,
that whoever it was, death had already released her from her misery--and
at the same time laid my hand upon her shoulder. At which she started, and
lifting up her head, the very ghastliness of death stamped upon every
feature, she shrieked: 'I drown! I drown! Hassan, save me!' and her head
fell again upon her knees.

'Poor fool,' said I, 'thou art upon the sands of the desert, and thou
dreamest: awake!--awake!--and here is water for thee--real water.'

At which she waked indeed, with a convulsive start, and while with one
hand she held fast her child--for a child was indeed laid away among the
folds of her garments--with the other she madly grasped the small cup I
held out to her, and tearing aside the covering from the face of the
infant, she forced open its mouth, and poured in some of the water we gave
her, watching its effect. Soon as the little one gave signs of life, she
drank the remainder at a draught, crying out, 'More! more!' Our water, of
which we had as yet good store, though hot as the wind itself, quickly
restored both mother and child.

'And now tell me, miserable woman, what direful chance has brought and
left thee here?--but hasten--speak quickly as thou canst--and dost thou
look for any one to come to thy relief?'

'Robbers of the desert,' said she, 'have either murdered or carried into
slavery my husband, and destroyed and scattered the caravan of which we
made a part. I am alone in the desert; and I know of no relief but such
as you can give. Leave us not, if you are men, to perish in these
burning sands!'

'Fear not that I will leave you,' said I: 'what I can spare, shall freely
be thine. But time is precious, for we are yet but midway the desert, and
the signs of the heavens portend wind and whirlwind: hasten then and mount
the dromedary of my slave, while I upon mine-bear as stronger than
thou--the child.'

'Isaac,' here muttered Hadad, in an undertone, 'art thou mad? Is thy
reason wholly gone? It is scarcely to be hoped that we alone may cross in
safety what remains of the desert, beset as we are by these sweeping
gusts, and wilt thou oppress our fainting beasts with this new burden?'

'Thou accursed of God! wouldst thou leave these here to perish? I believed
not before that out of hell there could be so black a soul. Bring down thy
dromedary. One word of hesitancy, and thy own carcass shall bleach upon
the sands.'

I knew well who I was dealing with--that I was safe from immediate
violence, though not from ultimate revenge.

Hadad then drew up his beast, which kneeling received the woman, while I
took in my arms the child. We then set forward at an increased pace, to
reach before light, if possible, the 'place of springs,' where a small
green spot, watered by fountains which never fail, blesses these
inhospitable plains.

Not a cloud was to be seen in all the compass of the heavens, yet the
winds raged. The blueness of the sky was gone, and the whole inflamed dome
above us was rather of the color of molten brass, the sun being but its
brightest and hottest spot. At a distance we saw clouds of sand whirled
aloft, and driven fiercely over the boundless plain, any one of which, it
seemed to us, if it should cross our path, would bury us under its moving
mass. We pressed on, trembling and silent through apprehension. The blood
in my veins seemed hotter than the sand, or the sun that beat upon my
face. Roman, thou canst form no conception of the horrors of this day. But
for my faith, I should have utterly failed. What couldst thou have
done?--nay, or the Christian Probus? But I will not taunt thee. I will
rather hope. The wind became more and more violent. The sand was driven
before it like chaff. Sometimes the tempest immediately around us would
abate, but it only served to fill us with new apprehensions, by revealing
to us the tossings of this great deep, in the distance. At one of these
moments, as I was taking occasion to speak a word of comfort to the half
dead mother, and cherish the little one whom I bore, a sound as of the
roar of ocean caught my ear--more awful than aught I had yet heard--and at
the same time a shriek and a shout from Hadad, 'God of Israel, save us!
The sand! the sand!'

I looked in the direction of the sound, and there in the south it
looked--God, how terrible to behold!--as if the whole plain were risen
up, and were about to fall upon us.

''T is vain to fly!' I cried aloud to Hadad, who was urging his animal to
its utmost speed. 'Let us perish together. Besides, observe the heaviest
and thickest of the cloud is in advance of us.'

The mother of the child cried out, as Hadad insanely hastened on, for her
offspring, to whom I answered: 'Trust the young Ishmael to me--fear me
not--cleave to the dromedary.'

Hardly were the words spoken, when the whirlwind struck us. We were dashed
to the earth as we had been weeds. My senses were for a time lost in the
confusion and horror of the scene. I only knew that I had been torn from
my dromedary--borne along and buried by the sand--and that the young child
was still in my arms. In the first moment of consciousness, I found myself
struggling to free myself from the sand which was heaped around and over
me. In this, after a time, I succeeded, and in restoring to animation the
poor child, choked and blinded, yet--wonderful indeed!--not dead. I then
looked around for Hadad and the woman, but they were no where to be seen.
I shouted aloud, but there was no answer. The sand had now fallen--the
wind had died away--and no sound met my ear, but the distant rumbling of
the retreating storm. Not far from me, my own dromedary stood, partly
buried in sand, and vainly endeavoring to extricate himself. With my aid,
this was quickly effected. I was soon upon his back. But I knew not which
way to turn. My dependence was upon Hadad, familiar with the route. The
sun however had declined sensibly toward the west--I knew that my general
direction was toward the east and north, so that with some certainty as to
the true path, I sorrowfully recommenced my journey. Have I not thy pity,
Roman? Has a worse case ever come to thy ear? I will not distress thee by
reciting my sufferings all the way to the 'place of springs,' which by the
next morning, plodding on wearily through the night, I safely reached.

There one of the first objects that greeted me, was Hadad and the mother
of my Ishmael. I approached them unobserved, as they sat on the border of
a spring. In the midst of other travellers, some of whom I saw were
comforting the wailing Hagar--and, without a word, dropped the young child
into the lap of its mother. Who shall describe the transports of her joy?
'T was worth, Piso, the journey and all its hazards.

How refreshing it was to lie here on the cool soil, beneath the shade of
the grateful palm, enjoying every moment of existence, and repairing the
injuries the journey had inflicted upon ourselves and our beasts! Two days
we passed in this manner. While here, Hadad related what befel him after
our separation. Owing to his urging on his animal in that mad way, at the
time I called out to him, instead of stopping or retreating, he was
farther within the heart of the cloud than I, and was more rudely handled.

'Soon as the blast fell upon us,' said he, 'that instant was my reason
gone. I knew nothing for I cannot tell how long. But when I came to
myself, and found that I was not in the place of the wicked--whereat I
rejoiced and was amazed--I discovered, on looking round, that my good
dromedary, whom I could ill spare, was dead and buried, and your Hagar,
whom I could have so well spared, alive and weeping for her lost boy. I
made her, with difficulty, comprehend that time was precious, and that
strength would be impaired by weeping and wailing. Knowing at once in what
direction to travel--after searching in vain for thee--we set out upon a
journey, which, on foot, beneath a burning sun, and without water, there
was small hope of accomplishing. I looked with certainty to die in the
desert. But Oromasdes was my protector. See, Isaac, the advantage of a
little of many faiths. We had not travelled far among the hillocks, or
hills rather, of sand which we found piled up in our way, and completely
altering the face of the plain, before, to our amazement and our joy, we
discovered a camel, without rider or burden, coming toward us. I secured
him without difficulty. At a little distance, we soon saw another; and by
and by we found that we were passing over the graves of a caravan, the
whole or chief part of which had been overwhelmed by the storm. Here was a
body partly out of the sand, there the head or leg of a dromedary or
camel. Ruin and death seemed to have finished their work. But it was not
quite so. For presently on reaching the summit of a wave of sand, we
discerned a remnant mounted upon the beasts that had been saved, making in
the same direction, and probably to the same point, as ourselves. We
joined them, and partaking of their water, were recruited, and so reached
this place alive. It is now from here,' he added, 'a safe and easy road to
Ecbatana.'

So we found it. But confess now, noble Piso, if in thy judgment it would
have been exorbitant if I had required of thee three talents of Jerusalem
instead of two? For what wouldst thou cross that molten sea, and be buried
under its fiery waves! It is none other than a miracle that I am here
alive in Ecbatana. And for thee I fear that miracle would not have been
wrought. Hadst thou been in my place, the sands of the desert were now thy
dwelling-place. Yet have I again to tempt those horrors. Being here, I
must return. The dromedary of my slave Hadad was worth a hundred
aurelians. A better or a fleeter never yet was in the stables of Zenobia.
And dost thou know, Roman, how curious the Queen is in horses and
dromedaries? There cannot a rare one of either kind enter the walls of
Palmyra, but he is straightway bought up for the service of Zenobia. The
swiftest in the East are hers. 'T was my purpose, returning, to have drawn
upon Hadad's beast the notice of the Queen. Doubtless I should have sold
it to her, and two hundred aurelians is the very least I should have asked
or taken for her. To no other than Zenobia would I have parted with her
for less than three hundred. But alas! her bones are on the desert. But
why, you ask, should I have so favored Zenobia? It is no wonder you ask.
And in answer, I tell thee perhaps a secret. Zenobia is a Jewess! Receive
it or not, as thou wilt--she is a Jewess--and her heart is tender toward
our tribe. I do not say, mark me, that she is one by descent, nor that
she is so much as even a proselyte of the Gate, but that she believes in
some sort Moses and the prophets and reads our sacred books. These things
I know well from those who have been near her. But who ever heard that she
has been seen to read the books of the Christians! Probus will not dare to
assert it. 'T is not more public that Longinus himself is inclined to our
faith--by my head, I doubt not that he is more than inclined--than 'tis
that Zenobia is. If our Messiah should first of all gird on the sword of
Palmyra, what Jew, whose sight is better than a mole's, would be
surprised? My father--may his sleep be sweet!--whose beard came lower than
his girdle, and whose wisdom was famous throughout the East, built much
upon what he knew of the Queen, and her great minister, and used to say,
'That another Barchochab would arise in Palmyra, whom it would require
more than, another Hadrian to hinder in his way to empire; and that if
horses again swam in blood, as once at Bither, 'twould be in Roman blood.'
Who am I, to deny truth and likelihood to the words of one in whom dwelt
the wisdom of Solomon and the meekness of Moses, the faith of Abraham, the
valor of Gideon, and the patience of Job? I rather maintain their truth.
And in the features of the present time, I read change and
revolution--war, and uproar, and ruin--the falling of kingdoms that have
outlasted centuries, and the uprising of others that shall last for other
centuries. I see the Queen of the East at battle with the Emperor of Rome,
and through her victories deliverance wrought out for Israel, and the
throne of Judah once more erected within the walls of Jerusalem! Now dost
thou, Piso, understand, I suppose, not one word of all this. How shouldst
thou? But I trust thou wilt. Surely now you will say, 'What is all this to
the purpose?' Not much to any present purpose, I confess freely; and I
should not marvel greatly if thou wert to throw this letter down and
trample it in the dust--as Rome has done by Judea--but that thou lookest
to hear of thy brother. Well, now I will tell thee of him.

When we drew near to the capital of the Great King, wishing to enrage
Hadad, I asked, 'What mud-walled village is it that we see yonder over the
plain?' Thou shouldst have seen the scowl of his eye--answer he gave none.
I spit upon such a city--I cast out my shoe upon it! I who have dwelt at
Rome, Carthage, Antioch, and Palmyra, may be allowed to despise a place
like this. There are but two things that impress the beholder--the Palace
of Sapor, and the Temple of Mithras, near it. These truly would be noted
even in Palmyra. Not that in the building any rule or order of art is
observed, but that the congregation of strange and fantastic
trickery--some whereof, it cannot be gainsaid, is of rare beauty--is so
vast that one is pleased with it as he is with the remembrance of the
wonderful combinations of a dream.

Soon as we entered the gates of the city, I turned to the woman whom we
brought from the desert, and who rode the camel with Hadad, and said to
her: 'First of all, Hagar, we take thee to those who are of thy kindred,
or to thy friends, and well may they bless the good Providence of God that
they see thee. 'T was a foul deed of thy husband, after the manner of the
patriarch to leave thee and thy little one to perish on the burning sands
of the desert.'

'Good Jew,' she replied, 'my name is not Hagar, nor did my husband leave
me willingly. I tell thee we were set upon by robbers, and Hassan, my poor
husband, was either killed, or carried away no one can tell whither.'

'No matter--names are of little moment. To me, thou art Hagar, and thy
little one here is Ishmael--and if thou wilt, Ishmael shall be mine. I
will take him and rear him as mine--he shall be rich--and thou shalt be
rich, and dwell where thou wilt.' The child, Roman, had wound itself all
around my heart. He was of three years or more, and, feature for feature,
answered to the youngest of my own, long since lost, and now in Abraham's
bosom. But it was not to be as I wished. All the mother rushed into the
face of the woman.

'Good Jew,' she cried, 'the God of Heaven will reward thee for thy
mercy shown to us; but hadst thou saved my life a thousand times, I
could not pay thee with my child. I am poor, and have nought to give
thee but my thanks.'

'I will see thee again,' said I to the widow of Hassan, as we set her down
in the street where her kinsfolk dwelt, 'if thou wilt allow me. Receive
thy child.'

The child smiled as I kissed him and gave him again to his mother. It was
the smile of Joseph. I could at that moment almost myself have become a
robber of the desert, and taken what the others had left.

We here parted, and Hadad and myself bent our way to the house of Levi,
a merchant well known to Hadad, and who, he assured me, would gladly
receive us. His shop, as we entered it, seemed well stored with the
richest goods, but the building of which it made a part promised not
very ample lodgings. But the hospitable welcome of the aged Levi
promised better.

'Welcome every true son of Israel,' said he, as we drew near where in a
remoter part of the large apartment he sat busy at his books of account.
'Make yourselves at home beneath the roof of Levi. Follow me and find more
private quarters.'

So, leaving Hadad and the camels to the care of those whom our host
summoned, I followed him as desired to another part of the dwelling. It
now seemed spacious enough. After winding about among narrow and dark
passages, we at length came to large and well-furnished rooms, apparently
quite remote from the shop, and far removed from the street. Here we
seated ourselves, and I unfolded to Levi the nature of my business. He
listened, wondered, smiled, shook his head, and made a thousand contrary
movements and signs. When I had done, he comforted and instructed me after
this manner.

'Something like a fool's errand. Yet the pay is good--that cannot be
doubted. It had been better, I think, for thee to have followed thy trade
in Palmyra or Ctesiphon. Yet perhaps this may turn out well. The promised
sum is large. Who can tell? 'Tis worth a risk. Yet if, in taking the risk,
one loses his head, it were a mad enterprise. Verily, I can say nothing
but that time will disclose it, and the event prove it. A thing is not
seen all at once, and the eye cannot at once reach every part of a ball.
Wait with patience, and God shall show it.'

I saw that nothing was to be got from this prophet. Yet perhaps he knew
facts. So I asked him of Hormisdas and Sapor, and if he knew aught of the
Roman Piso, held a strict prisoner in Ecbatana.

'A prisoner, say you?' he replied, beginning at the end of my question;
'how can a Persian Satrap be called a prisoner? He dwells in the palace of
Hormisdas, and when seen abroad, rides upon a horse whose harness is
jewelled like the prince's, and his dress moreover is of the richest
stuffs, and altogether Persian. 'Tis forgotten by most that he is any
other than a native Persian.'

'Is he ever seen to ride alone?' I asked.

'Why the question? I know not. Who should know who rides alone and who in
company? When I have seen him, it has always been in the train of others.'

'I thought as much. Doubtless he goes abroad well guarded. His companions,
Levi, I doubt are little better than jailers?'

Levi opened his eyes, but it was to no purpose; they can see no other
thing clearly, save a Persian coin.

I found, upon further inquiry, that it was even as I had supposed and had
heard. Calpurnius lives in the palace of Hormisdas, and is his chosen
companion and friend, but is allowed by Sapor no liberty of movement, and
wherever he goes is attended by persons appointed to guard him. Nor have
the many years that he has been here caused this vigilance in any degree
to relax. All outward honor is shown him, except by the king, who, had he
not, in the time of Valerian, passed his word to the prince his son, and
fully surrendered Piso into his hands, would, it is believed, even now use
him as he did the unhappy emperor. But he is safe in the keeping of the
prince. And the guard about him, it is my present suspicion, is as much to
defend him against any sudden freak of the king or his satellites, as it
is to prevent his escape. The least that could happen to any Roman falling
into Sapor's power would be to be flayed alive. My safety will lie in my
being known only as a Jew, not as a dweller in Rome.

And now, Roman, thou desirest to know in what manner I mean to accomplish
the deliverance of thy brother. It is thus. Commend the cunning of it. My
Ethiopian slave is then--I must tell thee to thine amazement--no Ethiopian
and no slave! He is one of my own tribe whom I have many times employed in
difficult affairs, and having often conferred upon him the most essential
favors, have bound him to my will. Him I am to leave here, being first
cleansed of the deep dye with which by my art--and what art is it I am not
familiar with?--I have stained his skin to the darkest hue of the African,
and then in his place, and retained to the same hue, am I to take thy
brother, and so with security and in broad day walk through the gates of
Ecbatana. Is it to be thought of that I should fail? All will rest with
Calpurnius. If, in the first place, he shall be willing to return, and
then, in the next place, shall consent to submit to this momentary and
only apparent degradation, the issue is as certain to be happy, as the
means shall be tried. My head never set with a sense of more security upon
my shoulders, than now, while planning and putting into execution this
Carthaginian plot.

It was first of all necessary that I should become acquainted with the
city, with the situation and structure of the palace of Hormisdas, and
make myself known in the streets as one of those way-side merchants whom
all abuse, yet whom all are glad to trade with. So, with my slave bending
under the burden of those articles of use or luxury which I thought would
be most attractive, we set forth into the midst of the busy streets,
seeking a market for our commodities. Several days were passed in this
manner, returning each night to lodge in the house of the rich and
foolish, but hospitable Levi.

While thus employed, I frequently saw Calpurnius in company with the
prince or other nobles, either riding in state through the streets of the
city, or else setting out upon excursions of pleasure beyond the walls.
But my chief object was to observe well the palace of the prince, and
learn the particular part of it inhabited by the Roman, and how and where
it was his custom to pass his time. This it was not difficult to do. The
palace of the prince I found to occupy a square of the city not far from
that of the king his father. It is of vast extent, but of a desolate
aspect, from the fewness of its inhabitants and the jealousy with which
the prince and all his movements are watched by the wicked and now
superannuated Sapor. Every day I diligently paced the streets upon which
it stands. I at first went without Hadad, that I might observe with the
more leisure. I at length discovered the apartments used by Calpurnius,
and learned that it was his custom, when not absent from the palace upon
some enterprise of pleasure, to refresh himself by breathing the air, and
pacing to and fro upon a gallery of light Persian architecture, which
borders immediately upon one of the four streets that bounds the palace.
This gallery was not so high above the street but what the voice could
easily reach those who were walking there, and that without greatly
increasing its natural tone. From pillar to pillar there ran along a low
lattice-work of fanciful device, upon which it was the usage of
Calpurnius, and those who were with him, often to lean and idly watch the
movements of the passengers below. Here, I found, must be my place of
audience. Here I must draw his attention, and make myself known to him.
For an opportunity to do this, I saw at once I might be obliged to wait
long, for scarce ever was Calpurnius there, but Hormisdas, or some one of
the nobles, was with him; or if he was alone, yet the street was so
thronged that it must be difficult to obtain a hearing.

Having learned these things, I then came forth, with Hadad bearing my
merchandise, I myself going before him as owner and crier. Many times did
I pass and repass the gallery of Calpurnius to no purpose--he either not
being there, or attended closely by others, or wrapped in thought so that
my cries could not arouse him. It was clear to me that I must make some
bold attempt. He was one day standing at the lattice-work already named,
alone, and looking at the passers by. Seeing him there as I entered the
street, I made directly toward the spot, crying in the loudest tone my
goods; and notwithstanding the numbers who were on their way along the
street, I addressed myself boldly to him, purposely mistaking him for
Hormisdas. 'Prince,' said I, 'buy a little, if it please you, of a poor
Jew, who has lately traversed the desert to serve you. I have in these
panniers wonders from all parts of the world. There is not a city famous
for its art in any rare and curious work, that is not represented here.
Kings, queens, and princes, have not disdained to purchase of me. The
great Sapor at Ctesiphon has of me procured some of his largest diamonds.
I have sold to Claudius, and Zenobia, and half the nobility of Palmyra.
Dost thou see, prince, the glory of this assortment of diamonds? Look! How
would they become thy finger, thy hunting cap, or thy sandals?'

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