CHAPTER XII - A LOVE PHILTRE

The position Tasha occupied in the royal household was for some years second only to that of the Queen, until Vedrona and Glarces matured and were constrained to come to her relief. But, even then, the unassuming and faithful friend found it no easy task to retire into a private capacity. Coming under the moulding influence of the Queen at the most impressionable moment of her life, all the finer qualities of womanhood had been carefully cultivated, softened by the modest consciousness of a fact never lost sight of she was still a slave. This ever visible admission contributed a rare and peculiar charm to a naturally beautiful character, adorned with unselfish devotion, artless simplicity, and transparent fidelity, which not only ensured her general respect, but also commanded the affection and loyalty of the circle among which she moved. Again, the positive refusal to accept her proffered manumission gave the slaves a deeper, stronger confidence in one who had ever been the guardian and surety of their interests. So long as Tasha lived, the yoke of bondage in Sahama could never be grievous. In her the well-being and goodwill of thousands of slaves were centred, and to be allowed to do her a personal service was equal to receiving a badge of honour.

Under such circumstances the information desired by Maphir was not difficult to obtain, and during the afternoon, while he was yet cogitating and contrasting various suggestions of procedure, a confidential slave from Tasha aroused him and presented her sealed tablets, upon which he read: “Fernery. Sunset.”

“Tell the noble Tasha I understand, and will obey her will,” he said. Then the slave bowed and retired.

“As I thought,” murmured Maphir; “in the fernery during the evening meal. Now comes the question of my hearing what is said. Lais had no choice but to hear the girl where she found her; but she and Casca had held their parley in the cove, and there the amorous eunuch will propose to hold this interview. Nor do I know on which apartment he will fix his choice. It will not be where Lais suspects, lest she should be curious and conceal herself to overhear. What shall I do? But there is time, the sun has far to travel yet. The hunters will speak to me, and I shall be prepared before Casca and Zillah meet.”

So he threw open the gates and called his lions for their afternoon exercise, and with a lighter heart than they had seen before, he played with his gigantic cats to their delighted astonishment in compensation for his neglect of the morning. Then, as the sun began to touch the distant hill-tops, he led them back, fed, and made them safe for the night.

His own meal over, he brought from his room a small cauldron, still steaming, in which he had prepared a further supply of his antidote, and removing the lid, left it to cool where the steam and odour would be carried into the cave.

“There, my beauties, the smell of that will guard against all accidents, while I prepare the poison.”

Then carefully considering with himself for a few moments, he fetched a fire pan in which wood was still burning, and carried it to the foot of a bridge spanning a stream, where he placed it, not in the way of anyone passing, but where the wind would carry the smoke across the bridge.

“She is certain to come this way,” he meditated, as he carefully located the brazier, “and I will have such a reception ready as will ensure her stopping while I have a word or two.”

Then he brought another cauldron in which he had placed the noxious herb, filled the vessel with water from the stream, replenished the fire, and sat down to watch until the water boiled; then he carefully covered the pot and awaited developments. The fumes were carried directly from the cave, so the lions were safe from their effect; they were also borne across the bridge, slightly away from the direction in which Zillah was expected; she would therefore be ignorant of their unwelcome pungency till actually reaching the structure, when he trusted to her remonstrance opening a parley by which he hoped to turn her from her purpose. How this was to be accomplished lay, as yet, in a state of nebulous uncertainty in his mind. He would frustrate the design of Lais; on that he was fully determined, but he knew no more, and must rely upon the exigencies of the moment at every step for success. There was, however, a strong undercurrent of natural sympathy for misfortune beneath his stern and morose exterior. The story Zillah had told to Lais was not unlike his own in its broad outline, and though her readiness to betray her mistress had caused his honest heart to revolt with an indignation which temporarily smothered his better feelings, the true nobility of his nature smouldered, and was invisibly burning through with a desire to save the slave, and point the way to a more safe and honourable freedom. He had not yet discovered this, but nevertheless it was there. The real man was struggling through the transient with the one noble desire to save both victim and dupe, leaving Lais and Casca for the time out of all consideration.

“I wish I knew the right way to get hold of this girl,” he deliberated with himself, as he watched the steaming cauldron. “There is a trail somewhere, if I could only strike it, by which I could reach and save her from the danger ahead. But what do I know about women, especially women of her kind? Lais had almost more than she could do to keep even with her, and made a very doubtful finish, after all. What can I expect? But then I don't think I would hurt her, if I could help it - why should I? She wants to get back home as much as I do, and if I were in her place, I suppose I should see things as she does, rather than as I do now. If I could tell her of my own success, promise her the assistance of Tasha, as I had it, and get her to see how much more she might expect from Vedrona than from Lais, I wonder whether she -”

“Do you hear me, slave?”

Maphir started perceptibly. Zillah was calling to him.

At the moment when his plans were assuming a more hopeful form her undesirable presence brought them down with a crash.

“Did you call, lady?”

She was but a slave; still, he could not be other than respectful.

“Have you nothing better to do than poison the air with such vile odours? Remove that pan at once, and let me pass?”

“I would do so, but to remove it now would only spoil it. Will you -” “No, I will not. Remove that at once, and let me pass to the Princess.” “The noble Vedrona is in the palace; but I have a message.”

“I have no wish to hear it. At your peril I command you to cover that poison and allow me to go by.”

Her imperious tone stung the man, who was momentarily more conscious of his desire to serve her. He rose to his feet, folded his arms, drew himself to his full height, looking every inch as majestic as herself, as he replied with a quiet sarcastic smile lighting his dusky face:

“Has Zillah, the slave, been raised to the office of Tabah, or has the mighty Glarces deposed Casca in your favour, that you have power to order with right to be obeyed? I have not heard it yet, and therefore must complete that which I know to be my duty. But I have a message -”

“And I an appointment.”

Maphir was now determined to proceed. “When gathering those herbs I met -”

“Will you allow me to pass, or shall I raise an alarm?” “I met a man in a strange dress bearing unknown arms.” continued the hunter, as he stepped to the foot of the bridge, perfectly indifferent to the fumes of the herb.

“What care I for the man, or your insolence either?” she exclaimed as she stepped to the other end of the bridge and drew her dagger. “Stand aside and let me pass, or by all the gods of Iberia -”

“Iberia?” broke in Maphir, with well-feigned surprise. “Is it possible that you are the lady for whom he was enquiring?”

“Did he say Iberia, Maphir?” she enquired, and her cheeks blanched with the nervous excitement that seized her. “Yes, he was asking for me. I am from Iberia. What did he say? Where is he?”

Zillah had unconsciously come to his relief - had given him an idea by which to detain her. That was sufficient for the present; he would follow it up and trust to circumstances.

“You must wait a little, lady,” he answered, resuming his usual stolid manner, and turning his attention to the cauldron; “this potion for the lions needs all my attention for the present. You have wasted the time I had to give the message.”

She had crossed the bridge, conquered her haughtiness, and become an impatient suppliant now.

“Tell me what he said,” she cried; “keep me not in this cruel suspense. He comes from my home - my father! Tell me what he says - what news he brings; or the delay will choke me - I shall die!”

“This requires all my attention for the present, and the message is in some unknown tongue upon a leaf at my lodgings. You had better keep your appointment, and see me when you return.”

“I have no appointment worthy of consideration in comparison with your message.”

“I thought it was with the Princess.”

“I did say so, but it was only to deceive you into allowing me to pass.”

“Oh! I begin to understand - you do not fear to lie when it suits your purpose?”

“I was in haste, and did not stop to argue.”

“Then pray go on your way - I have no wish to keep you.” “But the message - I must have that if all the appointments in Sahama wait.”

“And you must also wait until this love philtre for the great Casca is finished.”

“What are love philtres to me! Haste! Give me the message, man.”

“And what is a slave to Casca?” he replied. “But if you told one lie about your appointment, how am I to know the message is for you?”

“Did I not mention Iberia before you told me aught about it?” “Is there no other slave in Sahama from Iberia?” “Not one.”

“That may be so, but I have to make sure about it. The lady who has this message has first to tell me the name and station of her father.”

“His name is Alcazar, chief counsellor to the king of Iberia.”

“That is something like it. Perhaps the message is for you, after all. I will let you have it when I have finished this for the great lord Casca.”

“Liar!”

Before Maphir could rise from stirring the cauldron he received a blow which made him stagger across the fire in danger of severely injuring himself.

It was Casca who uttered the exclamation and struck the hunter. Unknown to either Maphir or Zillah he had cautiously approached under shelter of the trees, until by a single step he was able to deal the blow.

“You cub of Cerberus,” hissed the infuriated chamberlain, “is this your gratitude for my clemency of this morning ? Is this the – the - curse you! I have had enough. I can endure no more. Now you shall know what it means to to ... You - you ... Where is my pipe?”

And forgetful of the confusion with which his previous summons covered him, he blew a long shrill note, calling for immediate assistance.

Maphir rose to his feet, more injured by the humiliation than the blow, and for an instant a dangerous suspicion of mischief trembled upon his face, which, fortunately for Casca, was almost instantly repressed. With a proud confidence in his own superiority he leisurely folded his arms, dismissed a contemptuous smile from his lips, and replied

“If I have done any wrong to the lady, I am at once prepared to answer it; but I claim the right granted to every slave to appeal to the Prince for having been struck without authority.”

“Silence, you base born brute! Speak but one other word, and you shall see the Prince, but it shall be without your ears.”

“Surely the great lord Casca has forgotten that he has no authority in the punishment of a slave. I appeal to the Tabah, and leave myself in his wise hands.”

Shamer had just come upon the scene with such slaves as he could instantly command on hearing the summons. But much to the chagrin of Casca, the guard had also answered his call, together with several civilians and minor officers from the palace.

“What is the matter?” asked the Tabah, who made a shrewd guess at the cause of the quarrel. Casca had already made an elaborate report to him of the previous incident, which the Prince had disposed of very much to Maphir's credit; and the continual interference with the slaves by the ambitious chamberlain was an old-standing cause of complaint by Shamer.

“I am waiting to hear in what I have done any wrong,” replied the hunter.

“In what you have done wrong,” cried the excitable eunuch. “Oh! ye mighty gods, hear him! Take him away, guard-take him away. Throw him into the vilest hole in the guard-house, or I shall slay him where he stands.”

Shamer waved the guards aside. “I can deal with the slave if necessary,” he said.

As for Maphir an amused smile curled his lips as he looked down upon Casca and his threat. “Has it become a crime to deliver a message to a fellow slave?” he enquired.

“You lie, you black-faced thief!” cried the chamberlain. “You tried to lure the lady to your lodgings for a more dangerous purpose. She has told me of your insults before; but I have caught you now, and though your lying tongue has deceived the willing ear of the Prince, I will guard against his interference now. I will teach you how to defy me and insult my friends.”

“You must take a speedy retribution, Casca, or I fear you will be too late.”

It was the Prince himself who spoke, coming from the trees at the foot of the bridge across the stream.

Who is it that has so roused your serious displeasure?” “The Nubian, most mighty Glarces.”

“What, Maphir! Surely you have made some mistake, my lord.”

“I would I had, for his sake and the leniency with which you are pleased to regard him.”

“I have no friends, Casca, where justice is concerned, and my meanest slave has equal claims in that court with myself.”

“I was relying on your well-known justice, O Prince, when I ordered yon slave's arrest. Take him away, Shamer.”

“I am here, Casca,” sternly spoke the Prince, whose quick eye had noticed the eunuch's nervous anxiety to put an end to the scene. But Glarces' mind was busy with what he had heard from his sister respecting his friend, and this was the first time he had been able to investigate rumour at first hand. If a thousand Cascas fell as a result, and his own confidence was thereby shattered to fragments, Glarces would carry the inquiry to the end. “I wish to hear at once what has to be said in this matter.”

This was not what Casca hoped for. His case was not yet ready, even to be carried before Teresh, far less before the Prince.

“There are many reasons why this case cannot be disposed of now,” he answered in a perfect terror lest he was about to suffer another defeat. “When a regular court is formed, I will be there to prove the case against

“Where I am is always a regular court to deal with my own slaves. What have you to charge against Maphir? Is his offence against yourself?”

“Yes - that is, partly. And against another.” “Was the offence against yourself first?”

“No. He first prevented this lady - .”

“Zillah is a slave, Casca,” the Prince reminded him. “Since when have you become so respectful as to call her lady? This is unusual, and makes me curious.”

The correction was made most affably, but Casca knew the Prince would not forget it. He had blundered in his excitement, but it was better to let it pass unanswered.

“He first refused to allow the Iberian to pass, then by artful tales attempted to induce her to visit him for a base and forbidden purpose, and when she resisted, was about to use force to compel her to his lodgings when I arrived.” “That is a serious charge.”

“Most serious, O Prince.” “Is it true, Maphir?”

“No, most mighty Glarces, it is not true. I did detain the lady by the perfumes from the cauldron, but the bridge divided us. She, like myself, is a slave, with none too many friends to advise her in a time of necessity. My custom is never to speak to anyone, but knowing she was in danger, I wished to warn her, and was feeling my uncertain way how best to do it, when -”

“It is false,” said Zillah, warmly interrupting his statement, and, choosing to link her fortunes with Casca, she seized upon his accusation, assuring the Prince that it was true, and but for the timely arrival of Casca, would have been carried out.

“This is still more serious, Maphir, in that you would deny it.”

“Because he relies on your clemency, O Prince,” Casca answered. “This is not his first offence of the kind, though it is the first I have been able to prove against him.”

“Have you heard of these other cases, Shamer?” “No,” was the simple answer.

“That is strange; but of course if my lord Casca has done so we must accept his evidence.”

“Had you anyone with you, Maphir, who will say anything on your behalf?”

“No one, most noble Prince.”

“Then I can only say that Casca is right in thinking this a case for searching enquiry, and I shall not be unmindful of it. I am also deeply impressed with another thought which prompts a feeling of gratitude to the gods, in the assurance I have that watchful eyes guard the interests of innocent men. There are witnesses of our lives and actions - unseen, unknown, and unsuspected - who are permitted to protect the right, and confound the wrong. It has been so in this case. Casca, Zillah, and Maphir are not the only witnesses of what transpired, but I have seen and heard everything from the beginning. I have also learned, from Casca's tatement of the incident, whispers of something I am not at present able to understand. Maphir, however, is innocent, and I am more than glad to be able to save him from the injury one who has been my friend sought to do him.”