“Very true, and so I hope he came by it,” said Leonatus. “Return me my ring, and give me some stronger proof than this, for the bracelet was stolen.”
Then Iachimo told of the little mole which he had noticed on the white skin of Imogen, and Leonatus could no longer refuse to admit that he had lost his wager.
He had loved Imogen so deeply, so tenderly, he had placed such absolute trust in her perfect goodness and truth, that the shock of discovering her falsehood and inconstancy was a terrible one. All women were alike, he thought bitterly; there was no fault in man that woman did not have in greater measure—lying, flattery, deceit, revenge, ambition, self-indulgence, covetousness, pride, disdain, luxury, slander, fickleness—every fault that could be named, was found more abundantly in woman than in man.
So, maddened by the supposed treachery of his peerless wife, the unhappy Leonatus began to brood thoughts of dark revenge.
The Cave of Belarius
About this time there came to the Court of Cymbeline emissaries from the Roman Emperor, demanding the annual tribute of three thousand pounds which Julius Cæsar had exacted from the conquered Britons, and which latterly Cymbeline had neglected to pay to his successor, Augustus Cæsar.
On hearing the demand brought by Caius Lucius, the Ambassador, the Queen at once took it upon herself to urge Cymbeline not to pay the tribute, and Cloten, in his foolish manner, chimed in with silly defiance and childish insults. With more dignity, Cymbeline confirmed the words of the Queen, and declined to pay, whereupon Caius Lucius pronounced a declaration of war against Britain in the name of his master Augustus Cæsar.
His unwelcome duty done, he was then ready to enjoy the hospitality which Cymbeline courteously offered to him during the remaining day or two of his visit to the Court, after which the King sent him with a safe conduct and an honourable escort to Milford Haven, and forthwith began his preparations for war.
In the meantime other messages had also come from Rome—letters to Pisanio and to Imogen. The one to Pisanio contained a terrible command. The one to Imogen filled her heart with joy. She was bidden to set off at once to Milford Haven, where Leonatus stated he was at that time, and where he wished his wife to join him. Imogen was all excitement and eagerness to be off; she begged Pisanio with pretty impatience to tell her how quickly they could get to Milford Haven, and chid him for the slowness of his reckoning. Her quick wit at once devised a scheme whereby she could escape unnoticed, and in the guise of her waiting-woman she contrived to slip out of the palace to where Pisanio was ready to conduct her on her journey.
But alas, poor lady, on the road to Milford Haven a terrible awakening awaited her. Pisanio showed her the letter he had received from Leonatus, and there she read of the crime of which he accused her, and that Pisanio had orders to put her to death. Knowing herself blameless, Imogen was nearly killed by the cruel words, and in heart-broken accents she begged Pisanio to strike at once, and obey his master’s bidding. But Pisanio indignantly flung his sword away, refusing to stain his hand with such a deed. He had only brought her thus far, he said, to think out what was best to be done. His master must certainly have been deceived; some villain, peculiarly skilful in his art, had done this injury. Pisanio said he would give notice to Leonatus that Imogen was dead, sending some token of the fact as he had been commanded. Imogen would be missed at Court, and that would confirm his words.