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Zenobia

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'You little traitor,' said the soldier,' art not ashamed to bring drink to
me, who have helped to betray the city? Beware, or a sharp sword will cut
you in two.'

'I thought,' replied the child, nothing daunted, 'that you were a soldier
of Palmyra, who had been to fight the Romans. But whoever you may be, I am
sure you need the water.'

'But,' rejoined the soldier, swallowing at long draughts as if it had been
nectar, the cooling drink, 'do I deserve water, or any of these cowards
here, who have been beaten by the Romans, and so broken the heart of our
good Queen, and possibly lost her her throne? Answer me that.'

'You have done what you could, I know,' replied the boy, 'because you
are a Palmyrene, and who can do more? I carry round the streets of the
city in this palm-leaf basket, date cakes, which I sell to those who
love them. But does my mother blame me because I do not always come home
with an empty basket? I sell what I can. Should I be punished for doing
what I cannot?'

'Get you gone, you rogue,' replied the soldier; 'you talk like a Christian
boy, and they have a new way of returning good for evil. But here, if you
have cakes in your basket, give me one and I will give you a penny all the
way from Antioch. See! there is the head of Aurelian on it. Take care he
don't eat you up--or at least your cakes. But hark you, little boy, do you
see yonder that old man with a bald head, leaning against his shield? go
to him with your cakes.'

The boy ran off.

'Friend,' said I, addressing him, 'your march has not lost you your
spirits; you can jest yet.'

'Truly I can. If the power to do that were gone, then were all lost. A
good jest in a time of misfortune is food and drink. It is strength to the
arm, digestion to the stomach, courage to the heart. It is better than
wisdom or wine. A prosperous man may afford to be melancholy, but if the
miserable are so, they are worse than dead--but it is sure to kill them.
Near me I had a comrade whose wit it was alone that kept life in me upon
the desert. All the way from Emesa, had it not been for the tears of
laughter, those of sorrow and shame would have killed me.'

'But in the words of the little cake urchin, you did what you could. The
fates were opposed to you.'

'If all had done as much and as well as some, we would have had the fates
in our own keeping. Had it not been for that artifice of the Romans at
Antioch, we, had now been rather in Rome than here, and it was a woman--or
girl rather, as I am told--the daughter of Gracchus, who first detected
the cheat, and strove to save the army, but it was too late.'

'Were you near her?'

'Was I not? Not the great Zabdas himself put more mettle into the troops
than did that fiery spirit and her black horse. And beyond a doubt, she
would have perished through an insane daring, had not the Queen in time
called her from the field, and afterward kept her within her sight and
reach. Her companion, a Roman turned Palmyrene as I heard, was like one
palsied when she was gone, till when, he had been the very Mars of the
field. As it was, he was the true hero of the day. He brought to my mind
Odenatus, 'Twas so he looked that day we entered Ctesiphon I could wish,
and hope too, that he might share the throne of Zenobia, but that all the
world knows what a man-hater she is. But were you not there?'

'No. It could not be. I remained in the city.'

'Ten thousand more of such men as you--and we would not have fallen back
upon Emesa, nor left Antioch without the head of Aurelian. But alas for
it, the men of Palmyra are men of silk, and love their pleasures too well
to be free. I should call them women, but for Zenobia and the daughter of
Gracchus.'

'Do not take me for one of them. I am a Roman--and could not fight against
my country.'

'A Roman! and what makes you here? Suppose I were to run you through with
this spear?'

'Give me another and you are welcome to try.'

'Am I so? Then will I not do it. Give a man his will and he no longer
cares for it. Besides, having escaped with hazard from the clutches of one
Roman, I will not encounter another. Dost thou know that demon Aurelian?
Half who fell, fell by his hand. His sword made no more of a man in steel
armor, than mine would of a naked slave. Many a tall Palmyrene did he
split to the saddle, falling both ways. The ranks broke and fled wherever
he appeared. Death could not keep pace with him. The Roman Piso--of our
side--sought him over the field, to try his fortune with him, but the gods
protected him, and he found him not: otherwise his body were now food for
hyenas. No arm of mortal mould can cope with his, Mine is not despicable:
there is not its match in Palmyra: but I would not encounter Aurelian
unless I were in love with death.'

'It is as you say, I well know. He is reputed in our army to have killed
more with his single arm in battle, than any known in Roman history. Our
camp resounds with songs which celebrate his deeds of blood. His slain are
counted by thousands, nothing less.'

'The gods blast him, ere he be seen before the walls of Palmyra; our
chance were better against double the number of legions under another
general. The general makes the soldier. The Roman infantry are so many
Aurelians. Yet to-morrow's sun will see him here. I am free to say, I
tremble for Palmyra. A war ill begun, will, if auguries are aught, end
worse. Last night the sky was full of angry flashes, both white and red.
While the army slept over-wrought upon the desert, and the silence of
death was around, the watches heard sounds as of the raging of a battle,
distinct and clear, dying away in groans as of a host perishing under the
sword and battle-axe. These horrid sounds at length settled over the
sleeping men, till it seemed as if they proceeded from them. The
sentinels--at first struck dumb with terror and amazement--called out to
one another to know what it should mean, but they could only confirm to
each other what had been heard, and together ask the protection of the
gods. But what strikes deeper yet, is what you have heard, that the
Queen's far-famed Numidian, just as we came in sight of the walls of the
city, stumbled, and where he stumbled, fell and died. What these things
forebode, if not disaster and ruin, 'tis hard to say. I need no one to
read them to me.'

Saying thus, he rose and began to divest himself of the remainder of his
heavy armor, saying, as he did it--'It was this heavy armor that lost us
the day at Antioch--lighter, and we could have escaped the meshes. Now let
me lie and sleep.'

Returning, hardly had I arrived at the house of Gracchus, when it was
announced in loud shouts by the slaves of the palace, that Gracchus
himself, Fausta and Calpurnius were approaching. I hastened to the portico
overlooking the court-yard, and was there just in season to assist Fausta
to dismount. It was a joyful moment I need scarce assure you. Fausta
returns wholly unhurt. Gracchus is wounded upon his left, and Calpurnius
upon his right arm--but will not long suffer from the injury.

It was an unspeakable joy, once more to hear the cheerful voice of
Gracchus resounding in the walls of his own dwelling, and to see Fausta,
eased of her unnatural load of iron, again moving in her accustomed sphere
in that graceful costume, partly Roman and partly Persian, and which now
hides and now betrays the form, so as to reveal its beauty in the most
perfect manner. A deep sadness, deeper than ever, sits upon her
countenance, whenever her own thoughts occupy her. But surrounded by her
friends, her native spirit, too elastic to be subdued, breaks forth, and
she seems her former self again.

Our evening meal was sad, but not silent.

Gracchus instructed me, by giving a minute narrative of the march to
Antioch--of the two battles--and the retreat. Calpurnius related with
equal exactness the part which he took, and the services which Fausta, by
her penetrating observation, had been able to render to the army. They
united in bestowing the highest encomiums upon Zenobia, who herself
planned the battle, and disposed the forces, and with such consummate
judgment, that Zabdas himself found nothing to disapprove or alter.

'The day was clearly ours,' said Fausta, 'but for the artifice of
Aurelian--allowable, I know, by all the rules of war--by which we were led
on blindfold to our ruin. But flushed as we were by the early and complete
success of the day, is it to be severely condemned that our brave men
followed up their advantages with too much confidence, and broke from that
close order, in which till then, they had fought; and by doing so, lost
the command of themselves and their own strength? O, the dulness of our
spirits, that we did not sooner detect the rank insincerity of that
sudden, unexpected retreat of the Roman horse!'

'The gods rather be praised,' said Gracchus, 'that your watchful eye
detected so soon, what was too well concerted and acted to be perceived at
all, and that as the fruit of it we sit here alive, and Zenobia holds her
throne, and so many of our brave soldiers are now locked in sleep beneath
their quiet tents.'

'That, I think,' said Calpurnius, 'is rather the sentiment that should
possess us. You will hardly believe, Lucius, that it was owing to the
military genius of your ancient playmate, that we escaped the certain
destruction that had been prepared for us?'

'I can believe any thing good in that quarter, and upon slighter
testimony. I have already heard from the lips of a soldier of your legion,
that which you have now related. Part of the praise was by him bestowed
upon one Piso, a Roman turned Palmyrene as he termed him, who, he
reported, fought at the side of the daughter of Gracchus.'

'He could not have said too much of that same Piso,' said Gracchus.
'Palmyra owes him a large debt of gratitude, which I am sure she will not
be slow to pay. But let us think rather of the future than of the past,
which, however we may have conducted, speaks only of disaster.'

I thank you for your assurances concerning Laco and Coelia. Your
conscience will never reproach you for this lenity.




Letter XIV.



The last days of this so lately favored empire draw near--at least such is
my judgment. After a brief day of glory, its light will set in a long
night of utter darkness and ruin.

Close upon the rear guard of the Queen's forces followed the light troops
of Aurelian, and early this morning it was proclaimed that the armies of
Rome were in sight, and fast approaching the city. These armies were
considered too numerous to hazard another battle, therefore the gates
were shut, and we are now beleaguered by a power too mighty to contend
with, and which the Arabs, the climate, and want, must be trusted to
subdue. The circumjacent plains are filled with the legions of Rome.
Exhausted, by the march across the desert, they have but pitched their
tents, and now repose.

The Queen displays more than ever her accustomed activity and energy. She
examines in person every part of the vast extent of wall, and every engine
planted upon them for their defence. By her frequent presence in every
part of the city she inspires her soldiers with the same spirit which
possesses herself; and for herself, to behold her careering through the
streets of the city, reviewing, and often addressing, the different
divisions of the army, and issuing her commands, she seems rather like one
who is now Queen of the East, and is soon to be of the world, than one
whose dominion is already narrowed down to the compass of a single city,
and may shortly be deprived even of that. The lofty dignity of her air
has assumed a more imposing greatness still. The imperial magnificence of
her state is noways diminished, but rather increased, so that by a sort of
delusion of the senses, she seems more a Queen than ever. By her native
vigor and goodness, and by the addition of a most consummate art, by which
she manages as she will a people whom she perfectly comprehends, she is at
this moment more deeply intrenched within the affections of her subjects,
and more completely the object of their idolatrous homage than ever
before. Yet in her secret soul there is a deep depression, and a loss of
confidence in her cause, which amounts not yet to a loss of hope, but
approaches it. This is seen by those who can observe her in her more quiet
hours, when the glare of public action and station is off, and her mind is
left to its own workings. But, like those who play at dice, she has staked
all--her kingdom, her crown--her life perhaps--upon a single throw, and
having wound herself up to the desperate act, all the entreaty or argument
of the whole earth could not move her to unclasp the hand that wields the
fatal box. She will abide the throw.

There are still those who use both intreaty and argument to persuade her
even at this late hour to make the best terms she may with Rome. Otho,
though perfectly loyal and true, ceases not to press upon her, both in
public and in private, those considerations which may have any weight with
her to induce a change of measures. But it has thus far been to no
purpose. Others there are who, as the danger increases, become more and
more restless, and scruple not to let their voice be heard in loud
complaint and discontent, but they are too few in proportion to the whole,
to make them objects of apprehension. It will however be strange if, as
the siege is prolonged, they do not receive such accessions of strength as
to render them dangerous.

The Emperor has commenced his attacks upon the city in a manner that shows
him unacquainted with its strength. The battle has raged fiercely all day,
with great loss we infer to the Romans, with none we know to the
Palmyrenes.

Early on the morning of the second day it was evident that a general
assault was to be made. The Roman army completely surrounded the city, at
the same signal approached, and under cover of their shields, attempted
both to undermine and scale the walls. But their attempts were met with
such vigor, and with such advantage of action by the besieged, that
although repeated many times during the day, they have resulted in only
loss and death to the assailants. It is incredible the variety and
ingenuity of the contrivances by which the Queen's forces beat off and
rendered ineffectual all the successive movements of the enemy, in their
attempts to surmount the walls. Not only from every part of them were
showers of arrows discharged from the bows of experienced archers, but
from engines also, by which they were driven to a much greater distance,
and with great increase of force.

This soon rendered every attack of this nature useless and worse, and
their efforts were then concentrated upon the several gates, which
simultaneously were attempted to be broken in, fired, or undermined. But
here again, as often as these attempts were renewed, were they defeated,
and great destruction made of those engaged in them. The troops
approached as is usual, covered completely, or buried rather, beneath
their shields. They were suffered to form directly under the walls, and
actually commence their work of destruction, when suddenly from the
towers of the gates, and through channels constructed for the purpose in
every part of the masonry, torrents of liquid fire were poured upon the
iron roof, beneath which the soldiers worked. This at first they endured.
The melted substances ran off from the polished surface of the shields,
and the stones which were dashed upon them from engines, after rattling
and bounding over their heads, rolled harmless to the ground. But there
was in reserve a foe which they could not encounter. When it was found
that the fiery streams flowed down the slanting sides of the shell,
penetrating scarcely at all through the crevices of the well-joined
shields, it was suggested by the ingenious Periander, that there should
first be thrown down a quantity of pitch in a half melted state, by which
the whole surface of the roof should be completely covered, and which
should then, by a fresh discharge of fire, be set in a blaze, the effect
of which must be to heat the shields to such a degree, that they could
neither be held, nor the heat beneath endured by the miners. This was
immediately resorted to at all the gates, and the success was complete.
For no sooner was the cold pitch set on fire and constantly fed by fresh
quantities from above, than the heat became insupportable to those below,
who suddenly letting go their hold, and breaking away from their
compacted form, in hope to escape from the stifling heat, the burning
substance then poured in upon them, and vast numbers perished miserably
upon the spot, or ran burning, and howling with pain, toward the camp.
The slaughter made was very great, and terrible to behold.

Nevertheless, the next day the same attempts were renewed, in the hope, we
supposed, that the Queen's missiles might be expended, but were defeated
again in the same manner and with like success.

These things being so, and Aurelian being apparently convinced that the
city cannot be taken by storm, the enemy are now employed in surrounding
it with a double ditch and rampart, as defences both against us and our
allies, between which the army is to be safely encamped; an immense labor,
to which I believe a Roman army is alone equal. While this has been doing,
the Palmyrenes have made frequent sallies from the gates, greatly
interrupting the progress of the work, and inflicting severe losses. These
attacks have usually been made at night, when the soldiers have been
wearied by the exhausting toil of the day, and only a small proportion of
the whole have been in a condition to ward off the blows.

* * * * *

The Roman works are at length completed. Every lofty palm tree, every
cedar, every terebinth, has disappeared from the surrounding plains, to
be converted into battering rams, or wrought into immense towers, fire
and constantly fed by fresh quantities from above, than the heat became
insupportable to those below, who suddenly letting go their hold, and
breaking away from their compacted form, in hope to escape from the
stifling heat, the burning substance then poured in upon them, and vast
numbers perished miserably upon the spot, or ran burning, and howling
with pain, toward the camp. The slaughter made was very great, and
terrible to behold.

Nevertheless, the next day the same attempts were renewed, in the hope, we
supposed, that the Queen's missiles might be expended, but were defeated
again in the same manner and with like success.

These things being so, and Aurelian being apparently convinced that the
city cannot be taken by storm, the enemy are now employed in surrounding
it with a double ditch and rampart, as defences both against us and our
allies, between which the army is to be safely encamped; an immense labor,
to which I believe a Roman army is alone equal. While this has been doing,
the Palmyrenes have made frequent sallies from the gates, greatly
interrupting the progress of the work, and inflicting severe losses. These
attacks have usually been made at night, when the soldiers have been
wearied by the exhausting toil of the day, and only a small proportion of
the whole have been in a condition to ward off the blows.

The Roman works are at length completed. Every lofty palm tree, every
cedar, every terebinth, has disappeared from the surrounding plains, to be
converted into battering rams, or wrought into immense towers, fired, if
possible, by means of well-barbed arrows and javelins, to which were
attached sacs and balls of inflammable and explosive substances. These
fastening themselves upon every part of the tower could not fail to set
fire to them while yet at some distance, and in extinguishing which the
water and other means provided for that purpose would be nearly or quite
exhausted, before they had reached the walls. Then as they came within
easier reach, the engines were to belch forth those rivers of oil, fire,
and burning pitch, which he was sure no structure, unless of solid iron,
could withstand.

These directions were carefully observed, and their success at every point
such as Periander had predicted. At the Gate of the Desert the most
formidable preparations were made, under the inspection of the Emperor
himself, who, at a distance, could plainly be discerned directing the work
and encouraging the soldiers. Two towers of enormous size were here
constructed, and driven toward the walls. Upon both, as they came within
the play of the engines, were showered the fiery javelins and arrows,
which it required all the activity of the occupants to ward off, or
extinguish where they had succeeded in fastening themselves. One was soon
in flames. The other, owing either to its being of a better construction,
or to a less vigorous discharge of fire on the part of the defenders of
the wall, not only escaped the more distant storm of blazing missiles, but
succeeded in quenching the floods of burning pitch and oil, which, as it
drew nearer and nearer, were poured upon it in fiery streams. On it moved,
propelled by its invisible and protected power, and had now reached the
wall; the bridge was in the very act of being thrown and grappled to the
ramparts; Aurelian was seen pressing forward the legions, who, as soon as
it should be fastened, were to pour up its flights of steps and out upon
the walls; when, to the horror of all, not less of the besiegers than of
the besieged, its foundations upon one side--being laid over the
moat--suddenly gave way, and the towering and enormous mass, with all its
living burden, fell thundering to the plain. A shout, as of a delivered
and conquering army, went up from the walls, while upon the legions below,
such as had not been crushed by the tumbling ruin, and who endeavored to
save themselves by flight, a sudden storm of stones, rocks, burning pitch,
and missiles of a thousand kinds was directed, that left few to escape to
tell the tale of death to their comrades. Aurelian, in his fury, or his
desire to aid the fallen, approaching too near the walls, was himself
struck by a well-directed shaft, wounded, and borne from the field.

At the other gates, where similar assaults had been made, the same success
attended the Palmyrenes. The towers were in each instance set on fire and
destroyed.

The city has greatly exulted at the issue of these repeated contests.
Every sound and sign of triumph has been made upon the walls. Banners have
been waved to and fro, trumpets have been blown, and in bold defiance of
their power, parties of horse have sallied out from the gates, and after
careering in sight of the enemy, have returned again within the walls. The
enemy are evidently dispirited, and already weary of the work they have
undertaken.

The Queen and her ministers are confident of success, so far as active
resistance of the attacks upon the walls is concerned--and perhaps with
reason. For not even the walls of Rome, as they are now re-building, can
be of greater strength than these; and never were the defences of a
besieged city so complete at all points. But with equal reason are they
despondent in the prospect of Aurelian's reducing them by want. If he
shall succeed in procuring supplies for his army, and if he shall defeat
the allies of the Queen, who are now every day looked for, captivity and
ruin are sure. But the Queen and the citizens entertain themselves with
the hope, that Aurelian's fiery temper will never endure the slow and
almost disgraceful process of starving them into a surrender, and that
finding his army constantly diminishing through the effects of such
extraordinary exertions in a climate like this, he will at length propose
such terms as they without dishonor can accept.

Many days have passed in inactivity on both sides; except that nothing can
exceed the strictness with which all approaches to the city are watched,
and the possibility of supplies reaching it cut off.

That which has been expected has come to pass. The Emperor has offered
terms of surrender to the Queen; but such terms, and so expressed, that
their acceptance was not so much as debated. The Queen was in council with
her advisers, when it was announced that a herald from the Roman camp was
seen approaching the walls. The gates were ordered to be opened, and the
messenger admitted. He was conducted to the presence of the Queen,
surrounded by her ministers.

'I come,' said he, as he advanced toward Zenobia, 'bearing a letter from
the Emperor of Rome to the Queen of Palmyra. Here it is.'

'I receive it gladly,' replied the Queen, 'and hope that it may open a way
to an honorable composition of the difficulties which now divide us.
Nichomachus, break the seals and read its contents.'

The secretary took the epistle from the hands of the herald, and opening,
read that which follows:

'Aurelian, Emperor of Rome and Conqueror of the East, to Zenobia and her
companions in arms.

'You ought of your own accord long since to have done, what now by this
letter I enjoin and command. And what I now enjoin and command is this,
an immediate surrender of the city; but with assurance of life to
yourself and your friends; you, O Queen, with your friends, to pass your
days where the senate, in its sovereign will, shall please to appoint.
The rights of every citizen shall be respected, upon condition that all
precious stones, silver, gold, silk, horses and camels be delivered into
the hands of the Romans.'

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