The Sisters — Complete by Georg Ebers (feel good books to read txt) 📖

“I am grieved to receive your good wishes the last of all that have been offered me on this happy day.”

“Then you must have changed your mind,” replied Publius, drawing up his slight figure, which was taller than the king’s, “You have no lack of docile instruments, and last night you were fully determined to receive my first congratulations in the realm of shades.”

“My sister,” answered Euergetes, shrugging his shoulders, “was only yesterday singing the praises of your uncultured plainness of speech; but to-day it is your pleasure to speak in riddles like an Egyptian oracle.”

“They cannot, however, be difficult to solve by you and your minions,” replied Publius coldly, as he pointed to Eulaeus. “The serpents which you command have powerful poisons and sharp fangs at their disposal; this time, however, they mistook their victim, and have sent a poor recluse of Serapis to Hades instead of one of their king’s guests.”

“Your enigma is harder than ever,” cried the king. “My intelligence at least is unequal to solve it, and I must request you to speak in less dark language or else to explain your meaning.”

“Later, I will,” said Publius emphatically, “but these things concern myself alone, and I stand here now commissioned by the State of Rome which I serve. To-day Juventius Thalna will arrive here as ambassador from the Republic, and this document from the Senate accredits me as its representative until his arrival.”

Euergetes took the sealed roll which Publius offered to him. While he tore it open, and hastily looked through its contents, the door was again thrown open and Hierax, the king’s trusted friend, appeared on the threshold with a flushed face and hair in disorder.

“We have him!” he cried before he came in. “He fell from his horse near Heliopolis.”

“Philometor?” screamed Cleopatra, flinging herself upon Hierax. “He fell from his horse—you have murdered him?”

The tone in which the words were said, so full of grief and horror that the general said compassionately:

“Calm yourself, noble lady; your husband’s wound in the forehead is not dangerous. The physicians in the great hall of the temple of the Sun bound it up, and allowed me to bring him hither on a litter.”

Without hearing Hierax to the end Cleopatra flew towards the door, but Euergetes barred her way and gave his orders with that decision which characterized him, and which forbade all contradiction:

“You will remain here till I myself conduct you to him. I wish to have you both near me.”

“So that you may force us by every torment to resign the throne!” cried Cleopatra. “You are in luck to-day, and we are your prisoners.”

“You are free, noble queen,” said the Roman to the poor woman, who was trembling in every limb. “And on the strength of my plenipotentiary powers I here demand the liberty of King Philometor, in the name of the Senate of Rome.”

At these words the blood mounted to King Euergetes’ face and eyes, and, hardly master of himself, he stammered out rather than said:

“Popilius Laenas drew a circle round my uncle Antiochus, and threatened him with the enmity of Rome if he dared to overstep it. You might excel the example set you by your bold countryman—whose family indeed was far less illustrious than yours—but I—I—”

“You are at liberty to oppose the will of Rome,” interrupted Publius with dry formality, “but, if you venture on it, Rome, by me, will withdraw her friendship. I stand here in the name of the Senate, whose purpose it is to uphold the treaty which snatched this country from the Syrians, and by which you and your brother pledged yourselves to divide the realm of Egypt between you. It is not in my power to alter what has happened here; but it is incumbent on me so to act as to enable Rome to distribute to each of you that which is your due, according to the treaty ratified by the Republic.

“In all questions which bear upon that compact Rome alone must decide, and it is my duty to take care that the plaintiff is not prevented from appearing alive and free before his protectors. So, in the name of the Senate, King Euergetes, I require you to permit King Philometor your brother, and Queen Cleopatra your sister, to proceed hence, whithersoever they will.” Euergetes, breathing hard in impotent fury, alternately doubling his fists, and extending his quivering fingers, stood opposite the Roman who looked enquiringly in his face with cool composure; for a short space both were silent. Then Euergetes, pushing his hands through his hair, shook his head violently from side to side, and exclaimed:

“Thank the Senate from me, and say that I know what we owe to it, and admire the wisdom which prefers to see Egypt divided rather than united in one strong hand—Philometor is free, and you also Cleopatra.”

For a moment he was again silent, then he laughed loudly, and cried to the queen:

“As for you sister—your tender heart will of course bear you on the wings of love to the side of your wounded husband.”

Cleopatra’s pale cheeks had flushed scarlet at the Roman’s speech; she vouchsafed no answer to her brother’s ironical address, but advanced proudly to the door. As she passed Publius she said with a farewell wave of her pretty hand.

“We are much indebted to the Senate.”

Publius bowed low, and she, turning away from him, quitted the room.

“You have forgotten your fan, and your children!” the king called after her; but Cleopatra did not hear his words, for, once outside her brother’s apartment, all her forced and assumed composure flew to the winds; she clasped her hands on her temples, and rushed down the broad stairs of the palace as if she were pursued by fiends.

When the sound of her steps had died away, Euergetes turned to the Roman and said:

“Now, as you have fulfilled what you deem to be your duty, I beg of you to explain the meaning of your dark speeches just now, for they were addressed to Euergetes the man, and not the king. If I understood you rightly you meant to imply that your life had been attempted, and that one of those extraordinary old men devoted to Serapis had been murdered instead of you.”

“By your orders and those of your accomplice Eulaeus,” answered Publius coolly.

“Eulaeus, come here!” thundered the king to the trembling courtier, with a fearful and threatening glare in his eyes. “Have you hired murderers to kill my friend—this noble guest of our royal house—because he threatened to bring your crimes to light?”

“Mercy!” whimpered Eulaeus sinking on his knees before the king.

“He confesses his crime!” cried Euergetes; he laid his hand on the girdle of his weeping subordinate, and commanded Hierax to hand him over without delay to the watch, and to have him hanged before all beholders by the great gate of the citadel. Eulaeus tried to pray for mercy and to speak, but