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Zenobia

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As the secretary finished these words the Queen broke forth,----

'What think you, good friends?'--her mounting color and curled lip showing
the storm that raged within--'What think you? Is it a man or a god who has
written thus? Can it be a mortal who speaks in such terms to another? By
the soul of Odenatus, but I think it must be the God of War himself.
Slave, what sayest thou?'

'I am but the chosen bearer,' the herald replied, 'of what I took from the
hands of the Emperor. But between him and the god just named there is, as
I deem, but small difference.'

'That's well said,' replied the Queen; 'there's something of the old Roman
in thee. Friends,' she continued, turning to her counsellors, 'what answer
shall we send to this lordly command? What is your advice?'

'Mine is,' said Zabdas, 'that the Queen set her foot upon the accursed
scroll, and that yonder wretch that bore it be pitched headlong from the
highest tower upon the walls, and let the wind from his rotting carcass
bear back our only answer.'

'Nay, nay, brave Zabdas,' said the Queen, the fury of her general having
the effect to restore her own self-possession, 'thou wouldst not counsel
so. War then doubles its wo and guilt, when cruelty and injustice bear
sway. Otho, what sayest thou?'

'Answer it in its own vein! You smile, Queen, as if incredulous. But I
repeat--answer it in its own vein! I confess an inward disappointment and
an inward change. I hoped much from terms which a wise man might at this
point propose, and soil neither his own nor his country's honor. But
Aurelian--I now see--is not such a one. He is but the spoiled child of
fortune. He has grown too quickly great to grow well. Wisdom has had no
time to ripen.'

Others concurring, Zenobia seized a pen and wrote that which I transcribe.

'Zenobia, Queen of the East? to Aurelian Augustus.

'No one before you ever thought to make a letter serve instead of a
battle. But let me tell you, whatever is won in war, is won by bravery,
not by letters. You ask me to surrender--as if ignorant that Cleopatra
chose rather to die, than, surrendering, to live in the enjoyment of every
honor. Our Persian allies will not fail me. I look for them every hour.
The Saracens are with me--the Armenians are with me. The Syrian robbers
have already done you no little damage. What then can you expect, when
these allied armies are upon you? You will lay aside I think a little of
that presumption with which you now command me to surrender, as if you
were already conqueror of the whole world.'

* * * * *

The letter being written and approved by those who were present, it was
placed by Nichomachus in the hands of the herald.

* * * * *

No one can marvel, my Curtius, that a letter in the terms of Aurelian's
should be rejected, nor that it should provoke such an answer as
Zenobia's. It has served merely to exasperate passions which were already
enough excited. It was entirely in the power of the Emperor to have
terminated the contest, by the proposal of conditions which Palmyra would
have gladly accepted, and by which Rome would have been more profited and
honored than it can be by the reduction and ruin of a city and kingdom
like this. But it is too true, that Aurelian is rather a soldier than an
Emperor. A victory got by blood is sweeter far to him, I fear, than
tenfold wider conquests won by peaceful negotiations.

The effect of the taunting and scornful answer of the Queen has been
immediately visible in the increased activity and stir in the camp of
Aurelian. Preparations are going on for renewed assaults upon the walls
upon a much larger scale than before.

* * * * *

On the evening of the day on which the letter of Aurelian was received and
answered, I resorted, according to my custom during the siege, to a part
of the walls not far from the house of Gracchus, whence an extended view
is had of the Roman works and camp. Fausta, as often before, accompanied
me. She delights thus at the close of these weary, melancholy days, to
walk forth, breathe the reviving air, observe the condition of the city,
and from the towers upon the walls, watch the movements and labors of the
enemy. The night was without moon or stars. Low and heavy clouds hung, but
did not move, over our heads. The air was still, nay, rather dead, so deep
was its repose.

'How oppressive is this gloom,' said Fausta, as we came forth upon the
ramparts, and took our seat where the eye could wander unobstructed over
the plain, 'and yet how gaily illuminated is this darkness by yonder belt
of moving lights. It seems like the gorgeous preparation for a funeral.
Above us and behind it is silent and dark. These show like the torches of
the approaching mourners. The gods grant there be no omen in this.'

'I know not,' I replied. 'It may be so. To-day has, I confess it,
destroyed the last hope in my mind that there might come a happy
termination to this unwise and unnecessary contest. It can end now only in
the utter defeat and ruin of one of the parties--and which that shall be I
cannot doubt. Listen, Fausta, to the confused murmur that comes from the
camp of the Roman army, bearing witness to its numbers; and to those
sounds of the hammer, the axe, and the saw, plied by ten thousand arms,
bearing witness to the activity and exhaustless resources of the enemy,
and you cannot but feel, that at last--it may be long first--but that at
last, Palmyra must give way. From what has been observed to-day, there is
not a doubt that Aurelian has provided, by means of regular caravans to
Antioch, for a constant supply of whatever his army requires.
Reinforcements too, both of horse and foot, are seen daily arriving, in
such numbers as more than to make good those who have been lost under the
walls, or by the excessive heats of the climate.'

'I hear so,' said Fausta, 'but I will not despair. If I have one absorbing
love, it is for Palmyra. It is the land of my birth, of my affections. I
cannot tell you with what pride I have watched its growth, and its daily
advancement in arts and letters, and have dwelt in fancy upon that future,
when it should rival Rome, and surpass the traditionary glories of Babylon
and Nineveh. O Lucius! to see now a black pall descending--these swollen
clouds are an emblem of it--and settling upon the prospect and veiling it
forever in death and ruin--I cannot believe it. It cannot have come to
this. It is treason to give way to such fears. Where Zenobia is, final
ruin cannot come.'

'It ought not, I wish it could not,' I replied, 'but my fears are that it
will, and my fears now are convictions. Where now, my dear Fausta, are the
so certainly expected reliefs from Armenia, from Persia?--Fausta, Palmyra
must fall.'

'Lucius Piso, Palmyra shall not fall--I say it--and every Palmyrene says
it--and what all say, is decreed. If we are true in our loyalty and
zeal, the Romans will be wearied out. Lucius, could I but reach the tent
of Aurelian, my single arm should rid Palmyra of her foe, and achieve
her freedom.'

'No, Fausta, you could not do it.'

'Indeed I would and could. I would consent to draw infamy upon my head as
a woman, if by putting off my sex and my nature too, I could by such an
act give life to a dying nation, and what is as much, preserve Zenobia
her throne.'

'Think not in that vein, Fausta. I would not that your mind should be
injured even by the thought.'

'I do not feel it to be an injury,' she rejoined; 'it would be a sacrifice
for my country, and the dearer, in that I should lose my good name in
making it. I should be sure of one thing, that I should do it in no
respect for my own glory. But let us talk no more of it. I often end,
Lucius, when thinking of our calamities, and of a fatal termination of
these contests to us, with dwelling upon one bright vision. Misfortune to
us will bring you nearer to Julia.'

'The gods forbid that my happiness should be bought at such a price!'

'It will only come as an accidental consequence, and cannot disturb you.
If Palmyra falls, the pride of Zenobia will no longer separate you.'

'But,' I replied, 'the prospect is not all so bright. Captive princes are
by the usages of Rome often sacrificed, and Aurelian, if sometimes
generous, is often cruel. Fears would possess me in the event of a
capitulation or conquest, which I cannot endure to entertain.'

'O Lucius, you rate Aurelian too low, if you believe he could revenge
himself upon a woman--and such a woman as Zenobia. I cannot believe it
possible. No. If Palmyra falls it will give you Julia, and it will be some
consolation even in the fall of a kingdom, that it brings happiness to
two, whom friendship binds closer to me than any others.'

As Fausta said these words, we became conscious of the presence of a
person at no great distance from us, leaning against the parapet of the
wall, the upper part of the form just discernible.

'Who stands yonder?' said Fausta. 'It has not the form of a sentinel;
besides, the sentinel paces by us to and fro without pausing. It may be
Calpurnius, His legion is in this quarter. Let us move toward him.'

'No. He moves himself and comes toward us. How dark the night! I can make
nothing of the form.'

The figure passed us, and unchallenged by the sentinel whom it met. After
a brief absence it returned, and stopping as it came before us--

'Fausta!' said a voice--once heard, not to be mistaken.

'Zenobia!' said Fausta, and forgetting dignity, embraced her as a friend.

'What makes you here?' inquired Fausta;--'are there none in Palmyra to do
your bidding, but you must be abroad at such an hour and such a place?'

''Tis not so fearful quite,' replied the Queen, 'as a battle-field, and
there you trust me.'

'Never, willingly.'

'Then you do not love my honor?' said the Queen, taking Fausta's hand as
she spoke.

'I love your safety better--no--no--what have I said--not better than your
honor--and yet to what end is honor, if we lose the life in which it
resides? I sometimes think we purchase human glory too dearly, at the
sacrifice of quiet, peace, and security.'

'But you do not think so long. What is a life of indulgence and sloth?
Life is worthy only in what it achieves. Should I have done better to have
sat over my embroidery, in the midst of my slaves, all my days, than to
have spent them in building up a kingdom?'

'O no--no--you have done right. Slaves can embroider: Zenobia cannot. This
hand was made for other weapon than the needle.'

'I am weary,' said the Queen; 'let us sit;'--and saying so, she placed
herself upon the low stone block, upon which we had been sitting, and
drawing Fausta near her, she threw her left arm round her, retaining the
hand she held clasped in her own.

'I am weary,' she continued, 'for I have walked nearly the circuit of the
walls. You asked what makes me here. No night passes but I visit these
towers and battlements. If the governor of the ship sleeps, the men at the
watch sleep. Besides, I love Palmyra too well to sleep while others wait
and watch. I would do my share. How beautiful is this!--the city girded
by these strange fires! its ears filled with this busy music! Piso, it
seems hard to believe an enemy, and such an enemy, is there, and that
these sights and sounds are all of death!'

'Would it were not so, noble Queen! Would it were not yet too late to move
in the cause of peace. If even at the risk of life I--'

'Forbear, Piso,' quickly rejoined the Queen; 'it is to no purpose. You
have my thanks, but your Emperor has closed the door of peace forever. It
is now war unto death. He may prove victor: it is quite possible: but I
draw not back--no word of supplication goes from me. And every citizen
of Palmyra, save a few sottish souls, is with me. It were worth my throne
and my life, the bare suggestion of an embassy now to Aurelian. But let us
not speak of this, but of things more agreeable. The day for trouble, the
night for rest. Fausta, where is the quarter of Calpurnius? methinks it is
hereabouts.'

'It is,' replied Fausta, 'just beyond the towers of the gate next to us;
were it not for this thick night, we could see where at this time he is
usually to be found, doing, like yourself, an unnecessary task.'

'He is a good soldier and a faithful--may he prove as true to you, my
noble girl, as he has to me. Albeit I am myself a sceptic in love, I
cannot but be made happier when I see hearts worthy of each other united
by that bond. I trust that bright days are coming, when I may do you the
honor I would. Piso, I am largely a debtor to your brother--and Palmyra as
much. Singular fortune! that while Rome thus oppresses me, to Romans I
should owe so much; to one twice my life, to another my army. But where,
Lucius Piso, was your heart, that it fell not into the snare that caught
Calpurnius?'

'My heart,' I replied, 'has always been Fausta's, from childhood--'

'Our attachment,' said Fausta, interrupting me, 'is not less than love,
but greater. It is the sacred tie of nature, if I may say so, of brother
to sister; it is friendship.'

'You say well,' replied the Queen. 'I like the sentiment. It is not less
than love, but greater. Love is a delirium, a dream, a disease. It is full
of disturbance. It is unequal, capricious, unjust; its felicity, when at
the highest, is then nearest to deepest misery; a step, and it is into
unfathomable gulfs of woe. While the object loved is as yet unattained,
life is darker than darkest night. When it is attained, it is then oftener
like the ocean heaving and tossing from its foundations, than the calm,
peaceful lake, which mirrors friendship. And when lost, all is lost, the
universe is nothing. Who will deny it the name of madness? Will love find
entrance into Elysium? Will heaven know more than friendship? I trust not.
It were an element of discord there, where harmony should reign
perpetual.' After a pause, in which she seemed buried in thought, she
added musingly--'What darkness rests upon the future! Life, like love, is
itself but a dream; often a brief or a prolonged madness. Its light burns
sometimes brightly, oftener obscurely, and with a flickering ray, and then
goes out in smoke and darkness. How strange that creatures so exquisitely
wrought as we are, capable of such thoughts and acts, rising by science,
and art, and letters, almost to the level of gods, should be fixed here
for so short a time, running our race with the unintelligent brute; living
not so long as some, dying like all. Could I have ever looked out of this
life into the possession of any other beyond it, I believe my aims would
have been different. I should not so easily have been satisfied with glory
and power: at least I think so; for who knows himself? I should then, I
think, have reached after higher kinds of excellence, such for example as,
existing more in the mind itself, could be of avail after death--could be
carried out of the world--which power, riches, glory, cannot. The greatest
service which any philosopher could perform for the human race, would be
to demonstrate the certainty of a future existence, in the same
satisfactory manner that Euclid demonstrates the truths of geometry. We
cannot help believing Euclid if we would, and the truths he has
established concerning lines and angles, influence us whether we will or
not. Whenever the immortality of the soul shall be proved in like manner,
so that men cannot help believing it, so that they shall draw it in with
the first elements of all knowledge, then will mankind become a quite
different race of beings. Men will be more virtuous and more happy. How is
it possible to be either in a very exalted degree, dwelling as we do in
this deep obscure, uncertain whether we are mere earth and water, or parts
of the divinity; whether we are worms or immortals; men or gods; spending
all our days in, at best, miserable perplexity and doubt? Do you
remember, Fausta and Piso, the discourse of Longinus in the garden,
concerning the probability of a future life?

'We do, very distinctly.'

'And how did it impress you?'

'It seemed to possess much likelihood,' replied Fausta, 'but that was
all.'

'Yes,' responded the Queen, sighing deeply, 'that was indeed all.
Philosophy, in this part of it, is a mere guess. Even Longinus can but
conjecture. And what to his great and piercing intellect stands but in the
strength of probability, to ours will, of necessity, address itself in the
very weakness of fiction. As it is, I value life only for the brightest
and best it can give now, and these to my mind are power and a throne.
When these are lost I would fall unregarded into darkness and death.'

'But,' I ventured to suggest, 'you derive great pleasure and large profit
from study; from the researches of philosophy, from the knowledge of
history, from contemplation of the beauties of art, and the magnificence
of nature. Are not these things that give worth to life? If you reasoned
aright, and probed the soul well, would you not find that from these, as
from hidden springs, a great deal of all the best felicity you have
tasted, has welled up? Then, still more, from acts of good and just
government; from promoting and witnessing the happiness of your subjects;
from private friendship; from affections resting upon objects worthy to be
loved--from these has no happiness come worth living for? And beside all
this, from an inward consciousness of rectitude? Most of all this may
still be yours, though you no longer sat upon a throne, and men held their
lives but in your breath.

'From such sources,' replied Zenobia, 'some streams have issued it may
be, that have added to what I have enjoyed; but, of themselves, they would
have been nothing. The lot of earth, being of the low and common herd, is
a lot too low and sordid to be taken if proffered. I thank the gods mine
has been better. It has been a throne, glory, renown, pomp, and power; and
I have been happy. Stripped of these, and without the prospect of
immortality, and I would not live.'

With these words she rose quickly from her seat, saying that she had
a further duty to perform. Fausta intreated to be used as an agent or
messenger, but could not prevail. Zenobia darting from our side was
in a moment lost in the surrounding darkness. We returned to the
house of Gracchus.

In a few days, the vast preparations of the Romans being complete, a
general assault was made by the whole army upon every part of the walls.
Every engine, known to our modern methods of attacking walled cities, was
brought to bear. Towers constructed in the former manner were wheeled up
to the walls. Battering rams of enormous size, those who worked them being
protected by sheds of hide, thundered on all sides at the gates and walls.
Language fails to convey an idea of the energy, the fury, the madness of
the onset. The Roman army seemed as if but one being, with such equal
courage and contempt of danger and death was the dreadful work performed.
But the Queen's defences have again proved superior to all the power of
Aurelian. Her engines have dealt death and ruin in awful measure among the
assailants. The moat and the surrounding plain are filled and covered
with the bodies of the slain. As night came on after a long day of
uninterrupted conflict, the troops of Aurelian, baffled and defeated at
every point, withdrew to their tents, and left the city to repose.

The temples of the gods have resounded with songs of thanksgiving for
this new deliverance, garlands have been hung around their images, and
gifts laid upon their altars. Jews and Christians, Persians and
Egyptians, after the manner of their worship, have added their voices to
the general chorus.

Again there has been a pause. The Romans have rested after the late fierce
assault to recover strength, and the city has breathed free. Many are
filled with new courage and hope, and the discontented spirits are
silenced. The praises of Zenobia, next to those of the gods, fill every
mouth. The streets ring with songs composed in her honor.

* * * * *

Another day of excited expectations and bitter disappointment.

It was early reported that forces were seen approaching from the east, on
the very skirts of the plain, and that they could be no other than the
long-looked-for Persian army. Before its approach was indicated to those
upon the highest towers of the gates, by the clouds of dust hovering over
it, it was evident from the extraordinary commotion in the Roman
intrenchments, that somewhat unusual had taken place. Their scouts must
have brought in early intelligence of the advancing foe. Soon as the news
spread through the city the most extravagant demonstrations of joy broke
forth on all sides. Even the most moderate and sedate could not but give
way to expressions of heartfelt satisfaction. The multitudes poured to the
walls to witness a combat upon which the existence of the city seemed
suspended.

'Father,' said Fausta, after Gracchus had communicated the happy tidings,
'I cannot sit here--let us hasten to the towers of the Persian gate,
whence we may behold the encounter.'

'I will not oppose you,' replied Gracchus, 'but the sight may cost you
naught but tears and pain. Persia's good will, I fear, will not be much,
nor manifested by large contributions to our cause. If it be what I
suspect--but a paltry subdivision of her army, sent here rather to be cut
in pieces than aught else--it will but needlessly afflict and irritate.'

'Father, I would turn away from no evil that threatens Palmyra. Besides, I
should suffer more from imagined, than from real disaster. Let us hasten
to the walls.'

We flew to the Persian gate.

'But why,' asked Fausta, addressing Gracchus on the way, 'are you not more
elated? What suspicion do you entertain of Sapor? Will he not be sincerely
desirous to aid us?'

'I fear not,' replied Gracchus. 'If we are to be the conquering party in
this war, he will send such an army as would afterward make it plain that
he had intended an act of friendship, and done the duty of an ally. If we
are to be beaten, he will lose little in losing such an army, and will
easily, by placing the matter in certain lights, convince the Romans that
their interests had been consulted, rather than ours, We can expect no
act of true friendship from Sapor. Yet he dares not abandon us. Were
Hormisdas upon the throne, our prospects were brighter.'

'I pray the gods that ancient wretch may quickly perish then,' cried
Fausta, 'if such might be the consequences to us. Why is he suffered
longer to darken Persia and the earth with his cruel despotism!'

'His throne shakes beneath him,' replied Gracchus; 'a breath may
throw it down.'

As we issued forth upon the walls, and then mounted to the battlements of
the highest tower, whence the eye took in the environs of the city, and
even the farthest verge of the plain, and overlooked, like one's own
court-yard, the camp and intrenchments of the Romans--we beheld with
distinctness the Persian forces within less than two Roman miles. They had
halted and formed, and there apparently awaited the enemy.

No sooner had Gracchus surveyed well the scene, than he exclaimed, 'The
gods be praised! I have done Sapor injustice. Yonder forces are such as
may well call forth all the strength of the Roman army. In that case there
will be much for us to do. I must descend and to the post of duty.'

So saying he left us.

'I suppose,' said Fausta, 'in case the enemy be such as to draw off the
larger part of the Roman army, sorties will be made from the gates upon
their camp?'

'Yes,' I rejoined; 'if the Romans should suffer themselves to be drawn to
a distance, and their forces divided, a great chance would fall into the
hands of the city. But that they will not do. You perceive the Romans
move not, but keep their station just where they are. They will oblige the
Persians to commence the assault upon them in their present position, or
there will be no battle.'

'I perceive their policy now,' said Fausta. 'And the battle being fought
so near the walls, they are still as strongly beleaguered as ever--at
least half their strength seems to remain within their intrenchments. See,
see! the Persian army is on the march. It moves toward the city. Now again
it halts.'

'It hopes to entice Aurelian from his position, so as to put power into
our hands. But they will fail in their object.'

'Yes, I fear they will,' replied Fausta. 'The Romans remain fixed as
statues in their place.'

'Is it not plain to you, Fausta,' said I, 'that the Persians conceive not
the full strength of the Roman army? Your eye can now measure their
respective forces.'

'It is too plain, alas!' said Fausta. 'If the Persians should defeat the
army now formed, there is another within the trenches to be defeated
afterwards, Now they move again. Righteous gods, interpose in our behalf!'

At this moment indeed the whole Persian army put itself into quick and
decisive motion, as if determined to dare all--and achieve all for their
ally, if fate should so decree. It was a sight beautiful to behold, but of
an interest too painful almost to be endured. The very existence of a city
and an empire seemed to hang upon its issues; and here, looking on and
awaiting the decisive moment, was as it were the empire itself assembled
upon the walls of its capital, with which, if it should fall, the kingdom
would also fall, and the same ruin cover both. The Queen herself was there
to animate and encourage by her presence, not only the hearts of all
around, but even the distant forces of the Persians, who, from their
position, might easily behold the whole extent of the walls and towers,
covered with an innumerable multitude of the besieged inhabitants, who, by
waving their hands, and by every conceivable demonstration, gave them to
feel more deeply than they could otherwise have done, how much was
depending upon their skill and bravery.

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