After no long-interval of time, the Roman herald was seen returning from the camp of the Armenians. Again he sallied forth from the tent of Aurelian, on the same errand. It was too clear now that negotiations were going on which might end fatally for Palmyra. Doubt, fear, anxiety, intense expectation kept the mult.i.tude around me in breathless silence, standing at fixed gaze, like so many figures of stone.
They stood not long in this deep and agonizing suspense; for no sooner did the Roman herald reach the tents of the allied armies, and hold brief parley with their chiefs, than he again turned toward the Roman intrenchments at a quick pace, and at the same moment the tents of the other party were struck, and while a part commenced a retreat, another and larger part moved as auxiliaries to join the camp of Aurelian.
Cries of indignation, rage, grief and despair, then burst from the miserable crowds, as with slow and melancholy steps they turned from the walls to seek again their homes. Zen.o.bia was seen once to clasp her hands, turning her face toward the heavens. As she emerged from the tower and ascended her chariot, the enthusiastic throngs failed not to testify their unshaken confidence and determined spirit of devotion to her and her throne, by acclamations that seemed to shake the very walls themselves.
This last has proved a heavier blow to Palmyra than the former. It shows that their cause is regarded by the neighboring powers as a losing one, or already lost and that hope, so far as it rested upon their friendly interposition, must be abandoned. The city is silent and sad. Almost all the forms of industry having ceased, the inhabitants are doubly wretched through their necessary idleness; they can do little but sit and brood over their present deprivations, and utter their dark bodings touching the future. They who obtained their subsistence by ministering to the pleasures of others, are now the first to suffer; for there are none to employ their services. Streets, which but a little while ago resounded with notes of music and the loud laughter of those who lived to pleasure, are now dull and deserted. The brilliant shops are closed, the fountains forsaken, the Porticos solitary, or they are frequented by a few who resort to them chiefly to while away some of the melancholy hours that hang upon their hands. And they who are abroad seem not like the same people. Their step is now measured and slow--the head bent--no salutation greets the pa.s.sing stranger or acquaintance, or only a few cold words of inquiry, which pa.s.s from cold lips into ears as cold. Apathy--lethargy--stupor--seem fast settling over all. They would indeed bury all, I believe, were it not that the parties of the discontented increase in number and power, which compels the friends of the Queen to keep upon the alert. The question of surrender is now openly discussed. "It is useless," it is said, "to hold out longer. Better make the best terms we can. If we save the city by an early capitulation from destruction, coming off with our lives and a portion of our goods, it is more than we shall get if the act be much longer postponed. Every day of delay adds to our weakness, while it adds also to the vexation and rage of the enemy, who the more and longer he suffers, will be less inclined to treat us with indulgence."
These may be said to have reason on their side, but the other party are inflamed with national pride and devotion to Zen.o.bia, and no power of earth is sufficient to bend them. They are the princ.i.p.al party for numbers; much more for rank and political power. They will hold out till the very last moment--till it is reduced to a choice between death and capitulation; and, on the part of the Queen and the great spirits of Palmyra, death would be their unhesitating choice, were it not for the destruction of so many with them. They will therefore, until the last loaf of bread is divided, keep the gates shut; then throw them open, and meet the terms, whatever they may be, which the power of the conqueror may impose.
A formidable conspiracy has been detected, and the supposed chiefs of it seized and executed.
The design was to secure the person of the Queen, obtain by a violent a.s.sault one of the gates, and sallying out, deliver her into the hands of the Romans, who, with her in their power, could immediately put an end to the contest. There is little doubt that Antiochus was privy to it, although those who suffered betrayed him not, if that were the fact. But it has been urged with some force in his favor, that none who suffered would have felt regard enough for him to have hesitated to sacrifice him, if by doing so they could have saved their own lives or others.
Zen.o.bia displayed her usual dauntless courage, her clemency, and her severity. The attack was made upon her, surrounded by her small body-guard, as she was returning toward evening from her customary visit of observation to the walls. It was sudden, violent, desperate; but the loyalty and bravery of the guards was more than a match for the a.s.sa.s.sins, aided too by the powerful arm of the Queen herself, who was no idle spectator of the fray. It was a well-laid plot, and but for an accidental addition which was made at the walls to the Queen"s guard, might have succeeded; for the attack was made just at the Persian gate, and the keeper of the gate had been gained over. Had the guard been overpowered but for a moment, they would have shot the gate too quickly for the citizens to have roused to her rescue. Such of the conspirators as were not slain upon the spot were secured. Upon examination, they denied the partic.i.p.ation of others than themselves in the attempt, and died, such of them as were executed, involving none in their ruin. The Queen would not permit a general slaughter of them, though urged to do so. "The ends of justice and the safety of the city," she said, "would be sufficiently secured, if an example were made of such as seemed manifestly the chief movers. But there should be no indulgence of the spirit of revenge." Those accordingly were beheaded, the others imprisoned.
While these long and weary days are pa.s.sing away, Gracchus, Fausta, Calpurnius and myself are often at the palace of Zen.o.bia. The Queen is gracious, as she ever is, but laboring under an anxiety and an inward sorrow, that imprint themselves deeply upon her countenance, and reveal themselves in a greater reserve of manner. While she is not engaged in some active service she is buried in thought, and seems like one revolving difficult and perplexing questions. Sometimes she breaks from these moments of reverie with some sudden question to one or another of those around her, from which we can obscurely conjecture the subjects of her meditations. With Longinus, Otho, and Gracchus she pa.s.ses many of her hours in deep deliberation. At times, when apparently nature cries out for relief, she will join us as we sit diverting our minds by conversation upon subjects as far removed as possible from the present distresses, and will, as formerly, shed the light of her penetrating judgment upon whatever it is we discuss. But she soon falls back into herself again, and remains silent and abstracted, or leaves us and retreats to her private apartments.
Suddenly the Queen has announced a project which fills the city with astonishment at its boldness, and once more lights up hope within the bosoms of the most desponding.
Soon as her own mind had conceived and matured it, her friends and counsellors were summoned to receive it from her, and p.r.o.nounce their judgment. Would that I could set before you, my Curtius, this wonderful woman as she stood before us at this interview. Never before did she seem so great, or of such transcendent beauty--if under such circ.u.mstances such a thought may be expressed. Whatever of melancholy had for so long a time shed its gloom over her features was now gone. The native fire of her eye was restored and doubled, as it seemed, by the thoughts which she was waiting to express. A spirit greater than even her own, appeared to animate her, and to breathe an unwonted majesty into her form, and over the countenance.
She greeted all with the warmth of a friend, and besought them to hear her while she presented a view of the present condition of their affairs, and then proposed what she could not but believe might still prove a means of final deliverance--at least, it might deserve their careful consideration. After having gone over the course that had been pursued and defended it, as that alone which became the dignity and honor of a sovereign and independent power, she proceeded thus:
"We are now, it is obvious to all, at the last extremity. If no new outlet be opened from the difficulties which environ us, a few days will determine our fate. We must open our gates and take such mercy as our conquerors may bestow. The provision laid up in the public granaries is nearly exhausted. Already has it been found necessary greatly to diminish the amount of the daily distribution. Hope in any power of our own seems utterly extinct: if any remain, it rests upon foreign interposition, and of this I do not despair. I still rely upon Persia. I look with confidence to Sapor for farther and yet larger succors. In the former instance, it was apprehended by many--I confess I shared the apprehension--that there would be on the part of Persia but a parade of friendship, with nothing of reality. But you well know it was far otherwise. There was a sincere and vigorous demonstration in our behalf. Persia never fought a better field, and with slightly larger numbers would have accomplished our rescue. My proposition is, that we sue again at the court of Sapor--no, not again, for the first was a free-will offering--and that we fail not, I would go myself my own amba.s.sador, and solicit what so solicited, my life upon it, will not be refused. You well know that I can bear with me jewels gathered during a long reign of such value as to plead eloquently in my cause, since the t.i.the of them would well repay the Persian for all his kingdom might suffer for our sakes."
"What you propose, great Queen," said Longinus, as Zen.o.bia paused, "agrees with your whole life. But how can we, who hold you as we do, sit in our places and allow you alone to encounter the dangers of such an enterprise? For without danger it cannot be--from the robber of the desert, from the Roman, from the Persian." In disguise and upon the road, you may suffer the common fate of those who travel where, as now, marauders of all nations swarm; Sapor may, in his capricious policy, detain you prisoner; Aurelian may intercept. Let your servants prevail with you to dismiss this thought from your mind. You can name no one of all this company who will not plead to be your subst.i.tute."
There was not one present who did not spring upon his feet, and express his readiness to undertake the charge.
"I thank you all," said the Queen, "but claim, in this perhaps the last act of my reign, to be set free in your indulgence to hold an un.o.bstructed course. If in your honest judgments you confess that of all who could appear at the court of Sapor, I should appear there as the most powerful pleader for Palmyra, it is all I ask you to determine. Is such your judgment?"
"It is," they all responded--"without doubt it is."
"Then am I resolved. And the enterprise itself you judge wise and of probable success?"
"We do. The reasons are just upon which it is founded. It is greatly conceived, and the G.o.ds giving you safe conduct to Sapor, we cannot doubt a happy result."
"Then all that remains is, to contrive the manner of escape from the city and through the Roman camp."
"There is first one thing more," said the Princess Julia, suddenly rising from her mother"s side, but with a forced and trembling courage, "which remains for me to do. If there appear any want of maidenly reserve in what I say, let the cause, good friends, for which I speak and act, be my excuse. It is well known to you who are familiar with the councils of the state, that not many months past Persia sought through me an alliance with Palmyra. But in me, you, my mother and Queen, have hitherto found an uncomplying daughter--and you, Fathers, a self-willed Princess. I now seek what before I have shunned. Although I know not the Prince Hormisdas--report speaks worthily of him--but of him I think not--yet if by the offer of myself I could now help the cause of my country, the victim is ready for the altar. Let Zen.o.bia bear with her not only the stones torn from her crown, but this which she so often has termed her living jewel, and if the others, first proffered, fail to reach the Persian"s heart, then, but not till then, add the other to the scale. If it weigh to buy deliverance and prosperity to Palmyra--though I can never be happy--yet I shall be happy if the cause of happiness to you."
"My n.o.ble child!" said Zen.o.bia, "I cannot have so startled the chiefs of Palmyra by a new and unthought-of project, as I am now amazed in my turn. I dreamed not of this. But I cannot hinder you in your purpose. It ensures success to your country; and to be the instrument of that, will be a rich compensation for even the largest sacrifice of private affections."
The counsellors and senators who were present expressed a great, and I doubt not sincere unwillingness that so dangerous a service should be undertaken by those whom they so loved, and whom beyond all others they would shield with their lives from the very shadow of harm. But they were overcome by the determined spirit both of the Queen and Julia, and by their own secret conviction that it was the only act in the power of mortals by which the existence of the empire and city could be preserved.
At this point of the interview, Calpurnius, whom we had missed, entered, and learning what had pa.s.sed, announced that by a channel not to be mistrusted, he had received intelligence of a sudden rising in Persia, of the a.s.sa.s.sination of Sapor, and the elevation of Hormisdas to the throne of his father. This imparted to all the liveliest pleasure, and seemed to take away from the project of the Queen every remaining source of disquietude and doubt. Calpurnius at the same moment was besought, and offered himself to serve as the Queen"s companion and guide. The chosen friend of Hormisdas, and whose friendship he had not forfeited by his flight--no one could so well as he advocate her cause with the new king.
"But how is it," inquired Longinus, "that you obtain foreign intelligence, the city thus beset?"
"It may well be asked," replied Calpurnius. "It is through the intelligence and cunning of a Jew well known in Palmyra, and throughout the world I believe, called Isaac. By him was I rescued from Persian captivity, and through him have I received letters thence, ever since the city has been besieged. He is acquainted with a subterranean pa.s.sage--in the time of Trajan, he has informed me, a public conduit, but long since much choked and dry--by which one may pa.s.s from the city under and beyond the lines of the Roman intrenchments, emerging into a deep ravine or fissure, grown thickly over with vines and olives. Once it was of size sufficient to admit an elephant with his rider; now, he says, has it become so obstructed, and in some places so fallen in, that it is with difficulty that a dromedary of but the common size can force his way through."
"Through this then the Queen may effect her escape," said Longinus.
"With perfect ease and security," rejoined Calpurnius. "At the outlet, Isaac shall be in waiting with the fleetest dromedaries of the royal stables."
"We are satisfied," said Longinus; "let it be as you say. The G.o.ds prosper the pious service!"
So ended the conversation.
Of the ancient aqueduct or conduit, you have already heard from me; it is the same by which Isaac has transmitted my late letters to Portia--which I trust you have received and read. To Portia alone--be not offended--do I pour out my whole soul. From her learn more of what relates to the Princess.
I returned from the palace of Zen.o.bia overwhelmed with a thousand painful sensations. But this I need not say.
Fausta, upon learning the determination of the Queen, which had been communicated not even to her, exclaimed--"There, Lucius, I have always told you Palmyra brought forth women! Where in the wide world shall two be found to match Zen.o.bia and Julia? But when is the time fixed for the flight?"
"To-morrow night."
"I will to the palace. These may be the last hours permitted by the G.o.ds to our friendship. I must not lose one of them."
I went not there again.
Late on the evening of the following day Fausta returned--her countenance betraying what she had suffered in parting from those two, her bosom friends. It was long ere she could possess herself so far as to give to Gracchus and myself a narrative of what had occurred. To do it, asked but few words.
"We have pa.s.sed the time," she said at length, "as you might suppose those would about to be separated--forever; yes, I feel that I have seen them for the last time. It is like a conviction inspired by the G.o.ds. We did naught till the hour of attiring for the flight arrived, but sit, look upon each other, embrace, and weep. Not that Zen.o.bia, always great, lost the true command of herself, or omitted aught that should be done; but that she was a woman, and a mother, and a friend, as well as a Queen and a divinity. But I can say no more."
"Yet one thing," she suddenly resumed; "alas! I had well nigh forgotten it--it should have been said first. What think you? the Indian slave, Sindarina, was to accompany the Queen, but at the hour of departure she was missing. Her chamber was empty--the Arabian disguise, in which all were to be arrayed, lying on her bed--she herself to be found neither there nor any where within the palace. Another of the Queen"s women was chosen in her place. What make you of it?"
"Treason!--treachery!" cried Gracchus, and springing from his seat, shouted for a horse.
"The G.o.ds forgive me," cried the afflicted Gracchus, "that this has been forgotten! Why, why did I not lay to heart the hints which you dropped!"
"In very truth," I replied, "they were almost too slight to build even a suspicion upon. The Queen heeded them not--and I myself had dismissed them from my mind not less than yourself."
"Not a moment is to be lost," said Gracchus; "the slave must be found, and all whom we suspect seized."
The night was pa.s.sed in laborious search, both of the slave and Antiochus. The whole city was abroad in a common cause. All the loose companions of Antiochus and the young princes were taken and imprisoned; the suspected leaders in the affair, after a scrutinizing search and public proclamation, could not be found. The inference was clear, agonizing as clear, that the Queen"s flight had been betrayed.
Another day has revealed the whole. Isaac, who acted as guide through the conduit, and was to serve in the same capacity till the party were secure within a Persian fortress, not far from the banks of the Euphrates, has, by a messenger, a servant of the palace, found means to convey a relation of what befel after leaving Palmyra.
"Soon," he says, "as the shades of evening fell, the Queen, the Princess Julia, Nichomachus, a slave, and Calpurnius, arrayed in the garb of Arabs of the desert, together with a guard of ten soldiers, selected for their bravery and strength, met by different routes at the mouth of the old conduit. So n.o.ble a company had I never before the charge of. Thou wouldst never have guessed the Queen through the veil of her outlandish garment. She became it well. Not one was more a man than she. For the Princess, a dull eye would have seen through her. Entering a little way in utter darkness, I then bid them stand while I lighted torches. The Queen was near me the while, and asked me the length of the pa.s.sage, and whether the walls were of that thickness as to prevent the voice from being heard above.
""Till we reach one particular spot, where the arch is partly fallen in," I said, "we may use our tongues as freely and as loud as we please; at that place there will be need of special caution, as it is directly beneath the Roman intrenchments. Of our approach thereto I will give timely warning."
"I took occasion to say, that I was sorry the Queen of Palmyra should be compelled to pa.s.s through so gloomy a cavern, but doubtless he who was with Deborah and Judith would not forsake her who was so fast a friend to his people, and who, if rumor might be believed, was even herself one of them. This, Roman, you will doubtless think bold; but how could one who was full refrain? I even added, "Fear not; he who watches over Judah and Israel, will not fail to appear for one by whose arm their glories are to be restored." The Queen at that smiled, and if a countenance may be read, which I hold it can, as well as a book, it spoke favorable things for Jerusalem.
"When our torches were kindled, we went on our way; a narrow way and dark. We went in silence too, for I quickly discerned that minds and hearts were too busy with themselves and their own sorrows and fears to choose to be disturbed. Ah, Roman, how many times harder the lot of the high than the low! When we drew nigh to the fissure in the arch, the torches were again extinguished, and we proceeded at a snail"s pace and with a hyena"s foot while we were pa.s.sing within a few feet of the then, as I doubted not, sleeping Romans. As we came beneath the broken and open part, I was startled by the sound of voices. Soldiers were above conversing. As we paused through apprehension, a few words were distinctly heard.