University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

—A Tent, near Byzantium. Night.
Michael; afterwards Leo.
Michael.
At last I see
The prize within my grasp. To-morrow's dawn
Finds Rome arrayed against the opposing hosts
To conquer or to fall. If she should conquer
Then were the Emperor's throne fixed on a rock
And I obscure for ever. Should some panic
Force back her arms, 'twere otherwise; the bolt
Which spares the lowly saplings of the wood
Shatters the heaven-topped pine; the angry people
Letting their vengeance fall on Cæsar's head
Would spare his generals,—when he is gone,
And his throne empty, who remains but I,
The darling of the army, the brave Captain
Of twenty fights? Shall it be Aplaces,
That hot-brained fool, without a thought in life
Only to hack and thrust? My comrade Leo?
That cold half-blooded pedant, with his babble
Of duty to the State; half saint, half sage,
And no-wise soldier, he who stole my love—
I hate him—he to step 'twixt me and power?
Nay, that he shall not—I am no mere creature
Of pure philanthropies and cloistered virtues,
But a strong soldier willing to dare all
To compass my desire. See, here he comes,
The hypocrite! I hate him!
Good night, comrade.
Is't well with thee? What think you of the morrow?
Will victory be ours? It should be surely,
We do out-number them.

Leo.
Michael, I know not
What fortune keeps for us; but this I know,
Some boding presage of impending ill
Weighs down my soul, and will not let me rest.
I see before my eyes our Roman hosts
Driven backwards, and the fierce barbarian levies
Press onward, and the Imperial Crown of Rome
Tottering on Cæsar's brow, and a strange voice
Crying of “Treason, Treason!” day and night,
“Beware of traitors!”

Mich.
Comrade, thou art dreaming.
What traitors are there here? not thou and I,
Nor Aplaces; and if not we, what other?
We are the Generals.

Leo.
Nay, not Aplaces.
I see him bathed in blood, his men surrounded
And dying where they stand.

Mich.
Then who was it
Who played the traitor, comrade, thou or I?

Leo.
Speak not thus, Michael; think of the old days
When we were boys together, our young hearts
Filled with high dreams of a regenerate Rome.
Could we from such high thoughts sink down so low,
Now in our golden Mid-summer of life,
As Treason? God forbid. For Aplaces
No truer, loyal heart, or braver soldier
E'er faced the foeman's steel.

Mich.
Ah, that is well.
He leads the van to-morrow. If victory
Smile on him, then he need not play the traitor.
'Tis certain ere to-morrow night has come
The army, which is now your Kingmaker,
Will thrust the dotard Cæsar from his throne
And set this paragon there.

Leo.
Aplaces—Cæsar?
Aplaces, set himself before his country?
Nay, nay, you do not know him. We have fought
Together twenty years, and though no bond
Of close necessitude links us, such as binds
Michael to me, yet are we comrades too,
Welded in one, at the fierce forge of war,
And knit by common perils. I would answer
For Aplaces with life.

Mich.
It may be, comrade,
That thou art right; but hast thou pondered well,
Thou who so hatest the idolatrous crew
Who come 'twixt thee and God, what power it is
Lurks behind Aplaces? The Priest's—none other!
Dost thou not know that in his warlike tent
The sacred ikons meet his waking eyes
The ikons watch his sleep, the crucifix
Through all the storms of battle next his heart
Wards off the foemen's steel? Dost thou not know
How gloomy he has been of late, how full
Of boding dread, of sick remorseful fancies
And superstitious fears? Dost thou not know
'Tis in such rugged penitent souls that priest-craft
Finds its best prey? What hope you for the Empire
If he, his brave soul whistled down the wind
To the idolater's lure, should, at a sign
Of his masters, stoop and tear the bleeding heart
Of the true Faith, and in its stead enthrone
Some base corruption?

Leo.
Michael, dost thou speak
Of vague suspicions or of certain proof?
Such doubts unman me.

Mich.
Leo, I have spoken
Of certain proof, which shortly I will show thee;
But now too great a danger presses us.
We must defeat him and his priestly crew.
Far better the Bulgarian than the Priest!

Leo.
Nay, what
Is it thou would'st? The proofs! the proofs!

Mich.
I have a letter from the Patriarch
To whom he makes confession; this a creature
Of mine has intercepted. In it they plot
That if to-morrow fortune crowns our arms
Some trusty officers among the army
Shall straight acclaim him Cæsar, and the Empire
Be his to make or mar.

Leo.
Michael, I hate
These gross idolatrous knaves, but am a soldier
And know a soldier's duty.

Mich.
What is there
That doth conflict with this in what I would?
Thou knowest that Aplaces commands to-morrow
The Thracian and the Macedonian levies
Filled with young northern soldiers, and the flower
Of all the Imperial host. For thee and me
Soft Asiatics, prone to coward panics,
Peril our name and fame. Were it not well
For the Empire if the brunt of battle fell
On those most fit to bear it? Let them first
Take all the onset, while we hold reserved
The troops, too weak to attack indeed, but able
To end what is begun. If Aplaces
Should force the foemen back, then it were ours
To crown his victory. If he should fail,
We hold our troops unbroken to push back
The weakened enemy. In either fortune
We save the Empire, whether from the Priest
Or the Bulgarian.

Leo.
Michael, I dare not.
There is no rule but duty; serving men,
We serve God best.

Mich.
Good comrade, sleep on it.
Thou mays't serve both. Thou art not thyself to-night.
Take time, the dawn to-morrow sees the onset,
Heaven keep thee safe.

Leo.
Michael, I care no whit
Whether I live or die; but Aplaces,
If he be what thou sayest (and who shall doubt it),
Would ruin Rome. For these Bulgarian robbers
We hold them safe—again, if not to-morrow
It matters not, but an Idolater
Fixed on the throne of Rome, it were too much!
It must not be! But what if he should fall
In the unsupported onset?

Mich.
Nay, he will not;
He is too strong for them!

Leo.
But for his levies!
How doom those brave young lives?

Mich.
As for his levies;
Why, what are soldiers, if they face not peril
Where glory waits them? And if they should perish,
A soldier dies but once!

Leo.
Shall he then fall?
And shall I be a traitor to the State?
Was this my dream—Aplaces bathed in blood;
And voices calling “Treason”?
I cannot bear it!
I will have none o't!

Mich.
Nay, but Aplaces
On Cæsar's throne, the truth of Christ o'erborne
By dark idolatries!

Leo.
Nay, call me Traitor,
Dyed with a thousand treasons to the State,
But faithful to my God!

Mich.
(aside).
I have him safe,
And the Empire in my grasp!