Cleandra, who had, when in the tent of Æmilius, had her wits about her as usual, had not been wasting her time. She knew all about the drift of the contents of Scipio’s letter, and had even heard of the death of Maharbal before Elissa gave her the tidings, but she had preferred to keep her own counsel until her mistress and friend should learn them for herself from the letter.
Not waiting for Elissa to make up her mind to fly, Cleandra had laid her schemes, anticipating Elissa’s consent. She had accordingly arranged with Marcus Æmilius to have all his men ready on board ship, and everything prepared for instant sailing, promising him to return with Hannibal’s daughter, if possible, before dawn.
In the event of her not being able to prevail upon Elissa to fly, Cleandra had begged the gallant young Roman to leave Abydos without her, for she was resolved herself to share Elissa’s fortunes for weal or woe in the future as in the past. Nor could the prayers of Marcus, who was most loath to leave her, that she should herself fly with him, move Cleandra in the least; for, although ever fickle with men, she was faithful beyond the fidelity of women where Hannibal’s daughter was concerned.
Scarcely staying to console Elissa upon the death of Maharbal, which she evidently felt deeply, Cleandra set about collecting all their jewellery and money, and concealing it about her person. As for Elissa, she donned instantly her war-gear, and armed herself with a sheath, darts, and a sword, for in this garb she had no fear of not being able to pass in safety through any such parties of the Macedonian guards as might not be too intoxicated to recognise her.
Bidding Cleandra cover herself with a dark cloak and to follow her, she, after extinguishing the light, stepped forth from her tent, the entrance to which she closed. Then passing in rear of the king’s pavilion, where the noise was not now quite so excessive, they took their way to the Roman entrenchments.
They had passed the royal tent in safety, and, while threading their way with caution, were nearly out of ear-shot of the royal encampment, when suddenly they came, standing outside their own tents, upon two of the most debauched nobles of a debauched court, Alexander, son of Phidias, and Xenacreon, son of Themistocles. Xenacreon had for long ardently pursued Cleandra, and, despite her cloak, he recognised her in a moment. Bounding forward he seized her, exclaiming:
“Aha, my lady Cleandra! whither away thus in disguise like a thief in the night? For sure thou seekest a lover; well, here am I all ready to thy hand, take me!” and he embraced her rudely.
Cleandra did not seek to struggle at first, but only to temporise. She answered civilly, for she did not wish the sound of the discussion to reach the king in his tent.
“I pray thee release me, my good Xenacreon, and I will meet thee some other time. Just now I may not stay; I am engaged on important business with the lady Elissa.”
“With Elissa, the king’s courtesan, now out of favour!” exclaimed Xenacreon loudly. “Well, what is good for one is good for another. I will not, so that I get thee, grudge her to Alexander here, who long hath admired her; so take her, Alexander, I give her unto thee! But come thou with me now, sweet Cleandra, no time is like the present.” And while he sought to drag her within his tent, Alexander sprang forward swiftly and attempted likewise to seize upon Elissa herself.