The Scarlet Banner

by Felix Dahn

CHAPTER XIII

Meanwhile the ships had reached the shore: they were moored in a broad front, side by side, greeted with a loud burst of music from pipes and drums in the balcony. Instantly all flung from their lofty prows step-ladders, covered with rich rugs. Slaves scattered flowers over the stairs, down which the bridal pair and their guests now descended to the land, while, at the same moment, by similar steps the spectators descended from the platforms. The two groups now formed in a festal procession upon the shore, A handsome though somewhat effeminate-looking young Vandal, with a winged hat on his fair locks and winged shoes on his feet, hurried constantly to and fro, waving an ivory staff twined with golden serpents. He seemed to be the manager of the entertainment.

"Who is that?" asked Victor. "Probably the master of the beautiful Aphrodite. He is nodding; and she smiles at him."

"Yes, that is Thrasabad," cried Laurus, angrily, clinching his fist, yet lowering his voice timidly. "May Saint Cyprian send scorpions into his bed! A Vandal writer! He is spoiling my trade. And I am the pupil of the great Luxorius."

"Pupil? I think you were--"

"His slave, then freedman. I have covered whole ass's skins with copies of his verses."

"But not as his pupil?"

"You don't understand. The whole art of composition consists of a dozen little tricks, which are best learned by copying, because they are constantly recurring. And this Barbarian composes gratis! Of course he must be glad to have any one listen to him."

"He is leading the procession--as Mercury."

"Oh, the character just suits him. He understands how to steal. Only in doing so they kill the owners. 'Feud' is what these noble Germans call it."

"Look! he has given the signal; they are going to the Circus. Up! Let us follow."

Mercury held out his hand to Aphrodite to help her to land.

"Do I have you again?" he whispered tenderly. "I have missed you two long hours, fair one. Dearest, I love you fervently."

The girl smiled charmingly, raising her beautiful eyes to his with a grateful, even tender expression.

"That is the only reason I still live," she murmured, instantly lowering her long lashes sorrowfully.

"But so completely muffled, my Aphrodite?"

"I am not your Aphrodite; I am your Glauke."

Hand in hand with her, Thrasabad now led the procession, which, not without occasional pauses, forced its way through the staring multitude.

As soon as the Circus was reached, numerous slaves showed the guests to seats, assigned according to their rank or the regard in which they were held by the giver of the entertainment. The best were in the front row, originally intended for the Senators of Carthage; the structure on the southern side, the pulvinar, the imperial box which had been occupied by many a predecessor of Gelimer, remained empty. On the northern side, not directly opposite to the pulvinar, but considerably nearer the eastern end, the "Porta Pompæ," there were projecting boxes for the bridegroom, his most intimate friends, and his most distinguished guests. Through this gate, in the midst of the stalls and sheds for the horses and chariots,--the "oppidum" and the "carceres,"--the circensian procession passed before the beginning of the races. From this gate the course ran westward in a semi-circle. The victors made their exit through the "Porta Triumphalis." Extending the entire length from east to west, the "spina," a low wall richly adorned with small columns, dark-green marble obelisks, and numerous statuettes of victors in former races, divided the course into two parts like a barrier. At the eastern and western ends a goal "Meta" was erected, the former called the "Meta prima," the latter the "Meta secunda." The chariots drove into the arena from the southern and northern ends of the stables, through two gates in the east. Lastly, on the southern side, midway between the stables and the imperial box, partly concealed from view, was the sorrowful gate, the "Porta Libitinensis," through which the killed and wounded charioteers were borne out. The length of the course was about one hundred and ninety paces, the width one hundred and forty.

After the bustle had subsided, and the guests were all in their seats. Mercury appeared in the principal box, which contained about twelve men and women, among them Modigisel and his beautiful companion. He bowed gracefully before the bridal pair, and began,--

"Allow me, divine brother, son of Semele--"

"Listen, my little man," interrupted the bridegroom. (Mercury measured a few inches less than Bacchus, but was considerably over six feet tall.) "I believe you have had too much wine, and especially the dark red, which I drank from the 'Ocean'; in short, you share my intoxication. Our brave father's name was Thrasamer, not Semele." The poetic Vandal, with a superior smile, exchanged glances with Aphrodite, who was also in the box, and continued,--

"Allow me, before the games begin, to read my epithalamium--"

"No, no, brother," interrupted the giant, hastily. "Better, far better not! The verses are--"

"Perhaps not smooth enough? What do you know about hiatus, and--"

"Nothing at all! But the sense--so far as I understood it--you were good enough to read it aloud to me three times--"

"Five times to me," said Aphrodite, softly, with a charming smile. "I entreated him to burn the verses. They are neither beautiful nor good. So what is their use?"

"The meaning is so exaggerated," Thrasaric went on; "well, we may say shameless."

"They follow the best Roman models," said the poet, resentfully.

"Very probably. Perhaps that is the reason I was ashamed when I listened to them alone; I should not like, in the presence of these ladies--"

A shrill laugh reached his ears.

"You are laughing, Astarte?"

"Yes, handsome Thrasaric, I am laughing! You Germans are incorrigible shamefaced boys, with the limbs of giants."

The bride raised her eyes beseechingly to him. He did not see it.

"Shamefaced? I have seemed to myself very shameless. My part as a half-nude god is most distasteful to me. I shall be glad, Eugenia, when all this uproar is over."

She pressed his hand gratefully, whispering, "And to-morrow you will go with me to Hilda, won't you? She wished to congratulate me on the first day of my happiness."

"Certainly! And her congratulations will bring you happiness. She is the most glorious of women. She, her marriage with Gibamund, first taught me to believe once more in women, love, and the happiness of wedded life. It was she who--What do you want, little man? Oh, the games! The guests! I was forgetting everything. Go on! Give the signal! They must begin below."

Mercury stepped forward to the white marble railing of the box and waved his serpent wand twice in the air. The two gates at the right and left of the stables swung open: from the former a man, clad in blue, carrying a tuba, entered the arena; from the latter one dressed entirely in green; and two loud blasts announced the entrance of the circensian procession. In the brief pause before the appearance of the chariots Modigisel plucked the bridegroom lightly by his panther-skin.

"Listen," he whispered, "my Astarte is fairly devouring you with her eyes. I believe she likes you far better than she does me. I suppose I ought to kill her, out of jealousy. But--ugh!--it's too hot for either jealousy or beating."

"I believe she is no longer your slave," replied Thrasaric.

"I freed her, but retained the obligation of obedience, the obsequium. Pshaw! I would kill her for that very reason, if it weren't so hot. But how would it do if we--I am tired of her, and I've taken a fancy to your slender little Eugenia, perhaps on account of the contrast--how would it do if we should--exchange?"

Thrasaric had no time to answer. The tuba blared again, and the chariots entered in a stately procession. Five of the Blues rolled slowly in from the right gate, five of the Greens from the left; the chariots themselves, the reins and trappings of the horses, and the tunics of the charioteers were respectively leek-green and light-blue. The first three chariots of each party were drawn by four horses, the usual number; but when the fourth appeared with five, and the last on both sides actually had seven steeds, loud shouts of surprise and approval rang from the upper seats, to which, though many better ones stood empty, the Vandal directors had sent the middle and lower classes of the Roman citizens.

"Just look, Victor," Laurus whispered to his neighbor. "Those are the colors of the two parties in Constantinople."

"Certainly. The Barbarians imitate everything."

"But like apes playing the flute!"

"No one should attend the Circus except in a toga."

"As we do," said Victor, complacently. "But these people!--some in coats of mail, the majority in garments as thin as spider-webs."

"Of course they will never be true residents of the south; only degenerate northern Barbarians."

"But just look: the magnificence, the lavishness. The wheels, the very fellies, are silvered and then twined with blue or green ribbons."

"And the bodies of the chariots! They glisten like sapphires and emeralds."

"Where did Thrasaric get all this treasure?"

"Stolen, friend, stolen from us all. I've often told you so. But not he himself; this generation has grown almost too lazy even for stealing and robbing. It was his father Thrasamer and especially his grandfather, Thrasafred. He was Genseric's right hand. And what that means in pillaging as well as fighting cannot be imagined."

"Magnificent horses, the five reddish-brown ones! They are not African."

"Yes, but of the Spanish stock, reared in Cyrene. They are the best."

"Yes, if there is a strain of Moorish blood. You know, like the Moorish chief Cabaon's famous stallion. A Vandal is said to have him now."

"Impossible! No Moor sells such a horse."

"The procession is over; they are moving side by side, to the white rope. Now!"

"No, not yet. See, each Green and Blue is approaching the hermulæ on the right and left, to which the rope is fastened. Hark! What is Mercury shouting?"

"The prizes for the victors. Just listen: fifteen thousand sestertii, the second prize for the team of four; twenty-five thousand the first; forty thousand for the victorious five-span; and sixty thousand--that's unprecedented--for the seven."

"Look, how the seven horses harnessed to the green chariot are pawing the sand! That is Hercules, the charioteer. He has five medals already."

"But see! His opponent is the Moor Chalches. He wears seven medals. Look, he is throwing down his whip; he is challenging Hercules to drive without one, too. But he will not dare."

"Yes; he is tossing the whip on the sand. I'll bet on Hercules! I side with the Greens!" shouted Victor, excitedly.

"And I with the Blues. It ought--but stop! We--Roman citizens--betting on the games of our tyrants?"

"Oh, nonsense! you have no courage! Or no money!"

"More than you--of both! How much? Ten sestertii?"

"Twelve!"

"For aught I care. Done!"

"Look, the rope has fallen!"

"Now they are rushing forward!"

"Bravo, Green, at the first meta already--and nearest--past."

"On, Chalches! There, Blue! Forward! Hi! at the second meta Chalches was nearest."

"Faster, Hercules! Faster, you lazy snail! Keep more to the right--the right! or--O, Heaven!"

"Yes, Saint Cyprian! Triumph! There lies the proud Green! Flat on his belly, like a crushed frog! Triumph! The Blue is at the goal. Pay up, friend! Where is my money?"

"That isn't fair. I won't pay. The Blue intentionally struck the horse on the left with his pole. That's cheating!"

"What? Do you insult my color? And won't pay either?"

"Not a pebble."

"Indeed? Well, you rascal, I'll pay you."

A blow fell; it sounded like a slap on a fat cheek.

"Keep quiet up there, you dwellers in the clouds," shouted Mercury. "It is nothing, fair bride, except two Roman citizens cuffing each other. Friend Wandalar, go; turn them out. Both! There! Now on with the games. Carry the Green out through the Libitinensis. Is he dead? Yes. Go on. The prizes will be awarded at the end. We are in a hurry. If the King should return from Hippo before the time he named--woe betide us!"