University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

—The Empress. A Room in the Palace.
Empress.
I would I were a soldier's wife again,
Far from these palace-splendours and the pomp
Of heralds and the load of ceremony
That weighs down Cæsar's wife, for when we lived
In modest state, my husband, with each night
Slept dreamless sleep, but now, good though he is
And full of care for others, the long hours
Creep slowly to the dawn, and I can hear
His wakeful sighs, and see his face with day
More haggard than before. I think he is
Too noble for a throne, too touched with ruth
For this sad world's sad burden, too much filled
With thoughts of heaven for earthly happiness.
A saint, a martyr, yet even this, methinks,
Fails to explain his secret, or the weight
Of deep despondency which presses down
His spotless soul, nor yet our perilous case
Fronting the foe, who thunder at our gates
Since the brave Aplaces fell. To-day there goes
An embassy to meet the arrogant foe,
And yet he throws not off his load. Heaven send,
'Twas no foreboding fear of treachery
From these barbarian levies, that oppressed
His spotless soul. I weary for his coming;
He is too good for men, and yet I know
I could not love him, were his soul less free
From earthly taint. But here I see there comes
A kindred soul to his; a faithful comrade,
Michael the Amorian, whom he hath ennobled.
(How short a time it seems—they were my suitors,
And Leo won.) I will inquire of him
How goes the embassy.
Enter Michael.
My Lord Patrician,
I give you welcome. It is long years since we met

Mich.
Illustrious lady, at your feet
I kneel as I knelt once when we were young.
I am your servant still.

Emp.
Rise, sir, I pray you,
For you are, by the Emperor's grace, remember,
Ennobled now.

Mich.
Nay, Madam, to the woman
I kneel, and not the Empress, and should kneel
Were I the Emperor's self.

Emp.
My lord, a truce
To courtesies. I know you love my husband;
Have you good news of him? He went to-day
To the Bulgarian camp with all his Court
To settle terms of peace. Will he succeed?
Will he save Rome? These foemen press so near
Our close beleaguered city, that I know not
If aught but failure waits him. For a wife
The safety of the State is much indeed,
But her lord's safety more. I do not know
But sometimes I have thought some secret load
Weighs on him, which not all the cares of State
Could lay on him or take from him. Dost know
What fortune has in store?

Mich.
Illustrious lady,
I cannot doubt his triumph, he has taken
Such means to capture fortune, that she lies
A prisoner in his toils.

Emp.
But comes there not
Some doubt to give you pause?

Mich.
Nay, how to doubt?
We are too subtle for these blustering braggarts,
And subtlety is power.

Emp.
My lord, you err.
My husband is as ever, brave and true,
But simple as a child.

Mich.
Ay, so he was,
But statecraft grows with need, till the rude soldier
Grows cunning as a Priest.

Emp.
My husband cunning!
There breathes no purer spirit.

Mich.
Ay, dear lady,
There thou art right,
But not the less his statecraft,
For I have known his purpose, will commend
His wisdom when 'tis known. I do approve
His daring project. I would keep no faith
With the enemies of Rome.

Emp.
Leo break faith?
What mean your words, sir?

Mich.
Nay, there is no faith
Where is not freedom. These Bulgarian robbers
Invade our borders, sack our cities, lead
Our citizens the citizens of Rome—
To slavery. By some mad stroke of fortune,
They rout our bravest General and press
Close on our homes. What honourable peace
Can come from such? The Emperor goes forth
To treat,
Taking his life as in his hands.
Were it not well to trim the balance thus
That if they will not do the right they should,
Rome should be safe?

Emp.
I do not grasp your thought.

Mich.
Nay, it is this. If the Bulgarian hosts
Retire within their borders it is well,
But if they will not, then the Emperor
Has taken measures that the King and Chiefs
Shall trouble us no more.

Emp.
What, in fair fight?

Mich.
Yes, fair, since any fight is fair which meets
Such villainy as theirs. May be indeed
It is a new device, and, truth to tell,
My clumsy soldier-wit had ne'er devised it,
Or, if it had, had shrunk from it. But now
'Tis too late to turn back. Ask me no more.
The Emperor is doubtless safe and Rome,
And all our foemen scattered. 'Tis enough;
He will be back to-morrow.

[Exit Michael.
Emp.
I would rather
Beg bread from door to door, see my loved children
In rags, than that my love should soil his honour
Even for Imperial Rome!

Enter Leo in confusion and haste.
Emp.
My love, what ails thee?

Leo.
Defeat—disgrace,
Dishonour. Touch me not, I am not fit
To look upon thy face. They did persuade me
To that I knew was wrong, and now I come
With hands unstained indeed, but a stained heart.
Keep from me, wife.

Emp.
What is it that has been?
Hast thou then broken faith?

Leo.
Ay, that I have.
And nothing but the accident of fortune
Saved the Bulgarian King and all his Court.

Emp.
From massacre? My love, I cannot bear it
To think thee false. What is it that has been?

Leo.
Wife, it is this. Some one—I say not who—
False friend, far worse than enemy, o'erbore
My will and did persuade me by an ambush
To take the enemy. A sudden onset
Broke on our conference. The King and Court
Took horse and fled, and then, returning, chased me
Even to the walls, and now they sack and burn
The palaces without and all the churches.
St. Mamas' reeks with blood—the citizens
Are taken in slavery, and we are helpless,
And presently the fierce Bulgarian levies
Will sit down at our gates and we shall starve
Like rats in a cage. Wife, I have sinned in vain,
My soul and Rome are lost.

Emp.
I know not yet
Thy meaning as I would, but oh, my love,
If thou hast sinned indeed, full well I know
It was not for thyself.

Leo.
Ay, that it was not.
But not the less I sinned. The blood I shed not
But would have shed by treachery, cries out
Not less aloud to Heaven.

Emp.
If thou hast erred
Thou hast not erred alone—thy comrade Michael
Approves thy fault.

Leo.
What, did he speak of it,
The villain?

Emp.
Ay, he did indeed, and dared
Defend thy honour—for the secret plan
He praised but might not tell me. But my love,
Rejoice that thou hast failed. Surely 'twas Heaven
Hindered thy sin's fulfilment and would keep thee
Guiltless of blood. Repent, my soul! Bethink thee,
Dishonour is not statecraft, victory
Can wound more deep than failure if it come
Divorced from right! 'Tis wrong to do for others
That which for self dishonours. But remember,
I love thee still, and know thee as thou art,
Whate'er the world may deem.

Leo.
Thou perfect woman,
I kneel before thy truth.

Emp.
Nay, dearest, rather
Brace high thy heart and soul—meet in fair fight
These barbarous foemen, and, if Heaven will have it,
Conquer, and save thy Empire, and forget
Thy sin, which was not done, as Heaven forgets it.
Rouse thyself! Be a Cæsar as thou wert,
And save our Rome again!

Leo.
Dear wife, thy word
Breathes life. I will obey. The Emperor
Forgets his sin, and will go forth undaunted
To battle for his people. The fond husband
Loves deeper than before. The stainéd soul
With penance and with vigils, will lay bare
Its mortal sin to Heaven.

Emp.
My heart! My love!