CHAPTER I
TO CORNELIUS CETHEGUS CAESARIUS, A FRIEND:
I send these notes to you rather than to any other man. Why? First ofall, because I know not where you are, so the missive will probably belost. Doubtless that would be the best thing which could happen,especially for the man who would then be spared reading these pages!But it will also be well for me that these lines should lie--or belost--in some other place than here. For here in Constantinople theymay fall into certain dainty little well-kept hands, which possiblymight gracefully wave an order to cut off my head--or some other usefulportion of my anatomy to which I have been accustomed since my birth.But if I send these truths hence to the West, they will not be soeasily seized by those dangerous little fingers which discover everysecret in the capital, whenever they search in earnest. Whether you areliving in your house at the foot of the Capitol, or with the Regent atRavenna, I do not know; but I shall despatch this to Rome, for towardRome my thoughts fly, seeking Cethegus.
You may ask derisively why I write what is so dangerous. Because Imust! I praise--constrained by fear--so many people and things with mylips that I condemn in my heart, that I must at least confess the truthsecretly in writing. Well, I might write out my rage, read it, and thenthrow the pages into the sea, you say. But--and this is the otherreason for this missive--I am vain, too. The cleverest man I know mustread, must praise what I write, must be aware that I was not so foolishas to believe all I extolled to be praiseworthy. Later perhaps I canuse the notes,--if they are not lost,--when at some future day I writethe true history of the strange things I have experienced and shortlyshall undergo.
So keep these pages if they do reach you. They are not exactly letters;it is a sort of diary that I am sending to you. I shall expect noanswer. Cethegus does not need me, at present. Why should Cetheguswrite to me, now? Yet perhaps I shall soon learn your opinion from yourown lips. Do you marvel?
It is a strange thing to see before one, in clear, sharp letters, aterrible fate, pregnant with blood and tears, which no one elsesuspects; at such times the statesman feels akin to the god who isforging the thunderbolt that will so soon strike happy human beings.Pitiable, weak, mortal god! Will your bolt hit the mark? Will it notrecoil against you? The demi-god Justinian and the goddess Theodorahave prepared this thunder-bolt; the eagle Belisarius will carry it; weare starting for Africa to make war upon the Vandals.
Now you know much, O Cethegus. But you do not yet know all,--at least,not all about the Vandals. So learn it from me; I know. During the lastfew months I have been obliged to deliver lectures to the two gods--andthe eagle--about these fair-haired fools. But whoever is compelled todeliver lectures has sense enough bestowed upon him to perform thetask. Look at the professors at Athens. Since the reign of Justinianthe lecture-rooms have been closed to them. Who still thinks them wise?
So listen: The Vandals are cousins of your dear masters, theOstrogoths. They came about a hundred years ago--men, women, andchildren, perhaps fifty thousand in number--from Spain to Africa. Theirleader was a terrible king, Gizericus by name (commonly calledGenseric); a worthy comrade of Attila, the Hun. He defeated the Romansin hard-fought battles, captured Carthage, plundered Rome. He was nevervanquished. The crown passed to his heirs, the Asdings, who were saidto be descended from the pagan gods of the Germans. The oldest malescion of the family always ascends the throne.
But Genseric's posterity inherited only his sceptre, not his greatness.The Catholics in their kingdom (the Vandals are heretics, Arians) weremost cruelly persecuted, which was more stupid than it was unjust. Itreally was not so very unjust; they merely applied to the Catholics,the Romans, in their kingdom the selfsame laws which the Emperor in theRoman Empire had previously issued against the Arians. But it wascertainly extremely stupid. What harm can the few Arians do in theRoman Empire? But the numerous Catholics in the Vandal kingdom couldoverthrow it, if they should rebel. True; they will not risevoluntarily. But we are coming to rouse them.
If Justinian and Theodora did not invent this high treason, I havelittle knowledge of my adored rulers: I saw the smile with which theyreceived the news from Carthage. It was the triumph of the bird-catcherwho draws his snare over the fluttering prey.
Amalafrida's Goths succeeded in rescuing her from imprisonment andaccompanying her on her flight. She intended to seek refuge withfriendly Moors, but on her way she was overtaken and attacked by theKing's two nephews with a superior force. The faithful Goths fought andfell almost to a man; the Queen was captured and murdered in prison.Since that time fierce hate has existed between the two nations; theGoths took Lilybaeum back and from it cast vengeful glances at Carthage.This is King Hilderic's sole act of government! Since that time he hasseen clearly that it will be best for his people to be subject to us.But he is almost an old man, and his cousin--unfortunately the rightfulheir to the throne--is our worst enemy. His name is Gelimer. He mustnever be permitted to reign in Carthage; for he is considered thestronghold and hero, nay, the soul of the Vandal power. He firstdefeated the natives, the Moors, those sons of the desert who hadalways proved superior to the weak descendants of Genseric.
But this Gelimer--it is impossible for me to obtain from thecontradictory reports a satisfactory idea of him. Or could a Germanreally possess such contradictions of mind and character? They are allmere children, though six and a half feet tall; giants, with the soulsof boys. Nearly all of them have a single trait,--the love ofcarousing. Yet this Gelimer--well, we shall see.
Widely varying opinions of the entire Vandal nation are held here.According to some they are terrible foes in battle, like all Germans,and as Genseric's men undoubtedly were. But, from other reports, in thecourse of three generations under the burning sun of Africa, andespecially from living among our provincials there--the most corruptrabble who ever disgraced the Roman name--they have become effeminate,degenerate. The hero Belisarius of course despises this foe, like everyother whom he knows and does not know.
A letter from Belisarius summons me to the Golden Ho
use: "Bad news fromAfrica! The war is again extremely doubtful. The apparent traitorsthere betrayed Justinian, not the Vandals. This comes from such falsewiles. Help, counsel me! Belisarius."
How? I thought the secret letters from Carthage were to come, bydisguised messengers, only to me? And through me to the Emperor? Thatwas his express order; I read it myself. Yet still more secret onesarrive, whose contents I learn only by chance? This is your work, ODemonodora!