Part 5
FTATATEETA (_suddenly seizing the sentinel's arms from behind_). Thrust your knife into the dog's throat, Apollodorus. (_The chivalrous Apollodorus laughingly shakes his head; breaks ground away from the sentinel towards the palace; and lowers his point._)
SENTINEL (_struggling vainly_). Curse on you! Let me go. Help ho!
FTATATEETA (_lifting him from the ground_). Stab the little Roman reptile. Spit him on your sword.
_A couple of Roman soldiers, with a centurion, come running along the edge of the quay from the north end. They rescue their comrade, and throw off Ftatateeta, who is sent reeling away on the left hand of the sentinel._
CENTURION (_an unattractive man of fifty, short in his speech and manners, with a vine wood cudgel in his hand_). How now? What is all this?
FTATATEETA (_to Apollodorus_). Why did you not stab him? There was time!
APOLLODORUS. Centurion: I am here by order of the Queen to----
CENTURION (_interrupting him_). The Queen! Yes, yes: (_to the sentinel_) pass him in. Pass all these bazaar people in to the Queen, with their goods. But mind you pass no one out that you have not passed in--not even the Queen herself.
SENTINEL. This old woman is dangerous: she is as strong as three men. She wanted the merchant to stab me.
APOLLODORUS. Centurion: I am not a merchant. I am a patrician and a votary of art.
CENTURION. Is the woman your wife?
APOLLODORUS (_horrified_). No, no! (_Correcting himself politely_) Not that the lady is not a striking figure in her own way. But (_emphatically_) she is _not_ my wife.
FTATATEETA (_to the Centurion_). Roman: I am Ftatateeta, the mistress of the Queen's household.
CENTURION. Keep your hands off our men, mistress; or I will have you pitched into the harbor, though you were as strong as ten men. (_To his men_) To your posts: march! (_He returns with his men the way they came._)
FTATATEETA (_looking malignantly after him_). We shall see whom Isis loves best: her servant Ftatateeta or a dog of a Roman.
SENTINEL (_to Apollodorus, with a wave of his pilum towards the palace_). Pass in there; and keep your distance. (_Turning to Ftatateeta_) Come within a yard of me, you old crocodile; and I will give you this (_the pilum_) in your jaws.
CLEOPATRA (_calling from the palace_). Ftatateeta, Ftatateeta.
FTATATEETA (_Looking up, scandalized_). Go from the window, go from the window. There are men here.
CLEOPATRA. I am coming down.
FTATATEETA (_distracted_). No, no. What are you dreaming of? O ye gods, ye gods! Apollodorus: bid your men pick up your bales; and in with me quickly.
APOLLODORUS. Obey the mistress of the Queen's household.
FTATATEETA (_impatiently, as the porters stoop to lift the bales_). Quick, quick: she will be out upon us. (_Cleopatra comes from the palace and runs across the quay to Ftatateeta._) Oh that ever I was born!
CLEOPATRA (_eagerly_). Ftatateeta: I have thought of something. I want a boat--at once.
FTATATEETA. A boat! No, no: you cannot. Apollodorus: speak to the Queen.
APOLLODORUS (_gallantly_). Beautiful Queen: I am Apollodorus the Sicilian, your servant, from the bazaar. I have brought you the three most beautiful Persian carpets in the world to choose from.
CLEOPATRA. I have no time for carpets to-day. Get me a boat.
FTATATEETA. What whim is this? You cannot go on the water except in the royal barge.
APOLLODORUS. Royalty, Ftatateeta, lies not in the barge but in the Queen. (_To Cleopatra_) The touch of your majesty's foot on the gunwale of the meanest boat in the harbor will make it royal. (_He turns to the harbor and calls seaward_) Ho there, boatman! Pull in to the steps.
CLEOPATRA. Apollodorus: you are my perfect knight; and I will always buy my carpets through you. (_Apollodorus bows joyously. An oar appears above the quay; and the boatman, a bullet-headed, vivacious, grinning fellow, burnt almost black by the sun, comes up a flight of steps from the water on the sentinel's right, oar in hand, and waits at the top._) Can you row, Apollodorus?
APOLLODORUS. My oars shall be your majesty's wings. Whither shall I row my Queen?
CLEOPATRA. To the lighthouse. Come. (_She makes for the steps._)
SENTINEL (_opposing her with his pilum at the charge_). Stand. You cannot pass.
CLEOPATRA (_flushing angrily_). How dare you? Do you know that I am the Queen?
SENTINEL. I have my orders. You cannot pass.
CLEOPATRA. I will make Caesar have you killed if you do not obey me.
SENTINEL. He will do worse to me if I disobey my officer. Stand back.
CLEOPATRA. Ftatateeta: strangle him.
SENTINEL (_alarmed--looking apprehensively at Ftatateeta, and brandishing his pilum_). Keep off, there.
CLEOPATRA (_running to Apollodorus_). Apollodorus: make your slaves help us.
APOLLODORUS. I shall not need their help, lady. (_He draws his sword._) Now soldier: choose which weapon you will defend yourself with. Shall it be sword against pilum, or sword against sword?
SENTINEL. Roman against Sicilian, curse you. Take that. (_He hurls his pilum at Apollodorus, who drops expertly on one knee. The pilum passes whizzing over his head and falls harmless. Apollodorus, with a cry of triumph, springs up and attacks the sentinel, who draws his sword and defends himself, crying_) Ho there, guard. Help!
_Cleopatra, half frightened, half delighted, takes refuge near the palace, where the porters are squatting among the bales. The boatman, alarmed, hurries down the steps out of harm's way, but stops, with his head just visible above the edge of the quay, to watch the fight. The sentinel is handicapped by his fear of an attack in the rear from Ftatateeta. His swordsmanship, which is of a rough and ready sort, is heavily taxed, as he has occasionally to strike at her to keep her off between a blow and a guard with Apollodorus. The Centurion returns with several soldiers. Apollodorus springs back towards Cleopatra as this reinforcement confronts him._
CENTURION (_coming to the sentinel's right hand_). What is this? What now?
SENTINEL (_panting_). I could do well enough for myself if it weren't for the old woman. Keep her off me: that is all the help I need.
CENTURION. Make your report, soldier. What has happened?
FTATATEETA. Centurion: he would have slain the Queen.
SENTINEL (_bluntly_). I would, sooner than let her pass. She wanted to take boat, and go--so she said--to the lighthouse. I stopped her, as I was ordered to; and she set this fellow on me. (_He goes to pick up his pilum and returns to his place with it._)
CENTURION (_turning to Cleopatra_). Cleopatra: I am loth to offend you; but without Caesar's express order we dare not let you pass beyond the Roman lines.
APOLLODORUS. Well, Centurion; and has not the lighthouse been within the Roman lines since Caesar landed there?
CLEOPATRA. Yes, yes. Answer that, if you can.
CENTURION (_to Apollodorus_). As for you, Apollodorus, you may thank the gods that you are not nailed to the palace door with a pilum for your meddling.
APOLLODORUS (_urbanely_). My military friend, I was not born to be slain by so ugly a weapon. When I fall, it will be (_holding up his sword_) by this white queen of arms, the only weapon fit for an artist. And now that you are convinced that we do not want to go beyond the lines, let me finish killing your sentinel and depart with the Queen.
CENTURION (_as the sentinel makes an angry demonstration_). Peace there. Cleopatra. I must abide by my orders, and not by the subtleties of this Sicilian. You must withdraw into the palace and examine your carpets there.
CLEOPATRA (_pouting_). I will not: I am the Queen. Caesar does not speak to me as you do. Have Caesar's centurions changed manners with his scullions?
CENTURION (_sulkily_). I do my duty. That is enough for me.
APOLLODORUS. Majesty: when a stupid man is doing something he is ashamed of, he always declares that it is his duty.
CENTURION (_angry_). Apollodorus----
APOLLODORUS (_interrupting him with defiant elegance_). I will make amends for that insult with my sword at fitting time and place. Who says artist, says duelist. (_To Cleopatra_) Hear my counsel, star of the east. Until word comes to these soldiers from Caesar himself, you are a prisoner. Let me go to him with a message from you, and a present; and before the sun has stooped half way to the arms of the sea, I will bring you back Caesar's order of release.
CENTURION (_sneering at him_). And you will sell the Queen the present, no doubt.
APOLLODORUS. Centurion: the Queen shall have from me, without payment, as the unforced tribute of Sicilian taste to Egyptian beauty, the richest of these carpets for her present to Caesar.
CLEOPATRA (_exultantly, to the Centurion_). Now you see what an ignorant common creature you are!
CENTURION (_curtly_). Well, a fool and his wares are soon parted. (_He turns to his men_) Two more men to this post here; and see that no one leaves the palace but this man and his merchandize. If he draws his sword again inside the lines, kill him. To your posts. March.
_He goes out, leaving two auxiliary sentinels with the other._
APOLLODORUS (_with polite goodfellowship_). My friends: will you not enter the palace and bury our quarrel in a bowl of wine? (_He takes out his purse, jingling the coins in it._) The Queen has presents for you all.
SENTINEL (_very sulky_). You heard our orders. Get about your business.
FIRST AUXILIARY. Yes: you ought to know better. Off with you.
SECOND AUXILIARY (_looking longingly at the purse--this sentinel is a hooknosed man, unlike his comrade, who is squab faced_). Do not tantalize a poor man.
APOLLODORUS (_to Cleopatra_). Pearl of Queens: the Centurion is at hand; and the Roman soldier is incorruptible when his officer is looking. I must carry your word to Caesar.
CLEOPATRA (_who has been meditating among the carpets_). Are these carpets very heavy?
APOLLODORUS. It matters not how heavy. There are plenty of porters.
CLEOPATRA. How do they put the carpets into boats? Do they throw them down?
APOLLODORUS. Not into small boats, majesty. It would sink them.
CLEOPATRA. Not into that man's boat, for instance? (_Pointing to the boatman._)
APOLLODORUS. No. Too small.
CLEOPATRA. But you can take a carpet to Caesar in it if I send one?
APOLLODORUS. Assuredly.
CLEOPATRA. And you will have it carried gently down the steps and take great care of it?
APOLLODORUS. Depend on me.
CLEOPATRA. Great, _great_ care?
APOLLODORUS. More than of my own body.
CLEOPATRA. You will promise me not to let the porters drop it or throw it about?
APOLLODORUS. Place the most delicate glass goblet in the palace in the heart of the roll, Queen; and if it be broken, my head shall pay for it.
CLEOPATRA. Good. Come, Ftatateeta. (_Ftatateeta comes to her. Apollodorus offers to squire them into the palace._) No, Apollodorus, you must not come. I will choose a carpet for myself. You must wait here. (_She runs into the palace._)
APOLLODORUS (_to the porters_). Follow this lady (_indicating Ftatateeta_); and obey her.
_The porters rise and take up their bales._
FTATATEETA (_addressing the porters as if they were vermin_). This way. And take your shoes off before you put your feet on those stairs.
_She goes in, followed by the porters with the carpets. Meanwhile Apollodorus goes to the edge of the quay and looks out over the harbor. The sentinels keep their eyes on him malignantly._
APOLLODORUS (_addressing the sentinel_). My friend----
SENTINEL (_rudely_). Silence there.
FIRST AUXILIARY. Shut your muzzle, you.
SECOND AUXILIARY (_in a half whisper, glancing apprehensively towards the north end of the quay_). Can't you wait a bit?
APOLLODORUS. Patience, worthy three-headed donkey. (_They mutter ferociously; but he is not at all intimidated._) Listen: were you set here to watch me, or to watch the Egyptians?
SENTINEL. We know our duty.
APOLLODORUS. Then why don't you do it? There's something going on over there. (_Pointing southwestward to the mole._)
SENTINEL (_sulkily_). I do not need to be told what to do by the like of you.
APOLLODORUS. Blockhead. (_He begins shouting_) Ho there, Centurion. Hoiho!
SENTINEL. Curse your meddling. (_Shouting_) Hoiho! Alarm! Alarm!
FIRST AND SECOND AUXILIARIES. Alarm! alarm! Hoiho!
_The Centurion comes running in with his guard._
CENTURION. What now? Has the old woman attacked you again? (_Seeing Apollodorus_) Are _you_ here still?
APOLLODORUS (_pointing as before_). See there. The Egyptians are moving. They are going to recapture the Pharos. They will attack by sea and land: by land along the great mole; by sea from the west harbor. Stir yourselves, my military friends: the hunt is up. (_A clangor of trumpets from several points along the quay._) Aha! I told you so.
CENTURION (_quickly_). The two extra men pass the alarm to the south posts. One man keep guard here. The rest with me--quick.
_The two auxiliary sentinels run off to the south. The Centurion and his guard run off northward; and immediately afterwards the bucina sounds. The four porters come from the palace carrying a carpet, followed by Ftatateeta._
SENTINEL (_handling his pilum apprehensively_). You again! (_The porters stop._)
FTATATEETA. Peace, Roman fellow: you are now single-handed. Apollodorus: this carpet is Cleopatra's present to Caesar. It has rolled up in it ten precious goblets of the thinnest Iberian crystal, and a hundred eggs of the sacred blue pigeon. On your honor, let not one of them be broken.
APOLLODORUS. On my head be it. (_To the porters_) Into the boat with them carefully.
_The porters carry the carpet to the steps._
FIRST PORTER (_looking down at the boat_). Beware what you do, sir. Those eggs of which the lady speaks must weigh more than a pound apiece. This boat is too small for such a load.
BOATMAN (_excitedly rushing up the steps_). Oh thou injurious porter! Oh thou unnatural son of a she-camel! (_To Apollodorus_) My boat, sir, hath often carried five men. Shall it not carry your lordship and a bale of pigeons' eggs? (_To the porter_) Thou mangey dromedary, the gods shall punish thee for this envious wickedness.
FIRST PORTER (_stolidly_). I cannot quit this bale now to beat thee; but another day I will lie in wait for thee.
APPOLODORUS (_going between them_). Peace there. If the boat were but a single plank, I would get to Caesar on it.
FTATATEETA (_anxiously_). In the name of the gods, Apollodorus, run no risks with that bale.
APOLLODORUS. Fear not, thou venerable grotesque: I guess its great worth. (_To the porters_) Down with it, I say; and gently; or ye shall eat nothing but stick for ten days.
_The boatman goes down the steps, followed by the porters with the bale: Ftatateeta and Apollodorus watching from the edge._
APOLLODORUS. Gently, my sons, my children--(_with sudden alarm_) gently, ye dogs. Lay it level in the stern--so--'tis well.
FTATATEETA (_screaming down at one of the porters_). Do not step on it, do not step on it. Oh thou brute beast!
FIRST PORTER (_ascending_). Be not excited, mistress: all is well.
FTATATEETA (_panting_). All well! Oh, thou hast given my heart a turn! (_She clutches her side, gasping._)
_The four porters have now come up and are waiting at the stairhead to be paid._
APOLLODORUS. Here, ye hungry ones. (_He gives money to the first porter, who holds it in his hand to shew to the others. They crowd greedily to see how much it is, quite prepared, after the Eastern fashion, to protest to heaven against their patron's stinginess. But his liberality overpowers them._)
FIRST PORTER. O bounteous prince!
SECOND PORTER. O lord of the bazaar!
THIRD PORTER. O favored of the gods!
FOURTH PORTER. O father to all the porters of the market!
SENTINEL (_enviously, threatening them fiercely with his pilum_). Hence, dogs: off. Out of this. (_They fly before him northward along the quay._)
APOLLODORUS. Farewell, Ftatateeta. I shall be at the lighthouse before the Egyptians. (_He descends the steps._)
FTATATEETA. The gods speed thee and protect my nursling!
_The sentry returns from chasing the porters and looks down at the boat, standing near the stairhead lest Ftatateeta should attempt to escape._
APOLLODORUS (_from beneath, as the boat moves off_). Farewell, valiant pilum pitcher.
SENTINEL. Farewell shopkeeper.
APOLLODORUS. Ha, ha! Pull, thou brave boatman, pull. Soho-o-o-o-o! (_He begins to sing in barcarolle measure to the rhythm of the oars_)
My heart, my heart, spread out thy wings: Shake off thy heavy load of love--
Give me the oars, O son of a snail.
SENTINEL (_threatening Ftatateeta_). Now mistress: back to your henhouse. In with you.
FTATATEETA (_falling on her knees and stretching her hands over the waters_). Gods of the seas, bear her safely to the shore!
SENTINEL. Bear _who_ safely? What do you mean?
FTATATEETA (_looking darkly at him_). Gods of Egypt and of Vengeance, let this Roman fool be beaten like a dog by his captain for suffering her to be taken over the waters.
SENTINEL. Accursed one: is she then in the boat? (_He calls over the sea_) Hoiho, there, boatman! Hoiho!
APOLLODORUS (_singing in the distance_).
My heart, my heart, be whole and free: Love is thine only enemy.
_Meanwhile Rufio, the morning's fighting done, sits munching dates on a faggot of brushwood outside the door of the lighthouse, which towers gigantic to the clouds on his left. His helmet, full of dates, is between his knees; and a leathern bottle of wine is by his side. Behind him the great stone pedestal of the lighthouse is shut in from the open sea by a low stone parapet, with a couple of steps in the middle to the broad coping. A huge chain with a hook hangs down from the lighthouse crane above his head. Faggots like the one he sits on lie beneath it ready to be drawn up to feed the beacon._
_Caesar is standing on the step at the parapet looking out anxiously, evidently ill at ease. Britannus comes out of the lighthouse door._
RUFIO. Well, my British islander. Have you been up to the top?
BRITANNUS. I have. I reckon it at 200 feet high.
RUFIO. Anybody up there?
BRITANNUS. One elderly Tyrian to work the crane; and his son, a well conducted youth of 14.
RUFIO (_looking at the chain_). What! An old man and a boy work that! Twenty men, you mean.
BRITANNUS. Two only, I assure you. They have counterweights, and a machine with boiling water in it which I do not understand: it is not of British design. They use it to haul up barrels of oil and faggots to burn in the brazier on the roof.
RUFIO. But----
BRITANNUS. Excuse me: I came down because there are messengers coming along the mole to us from the island. I must see what their business is. (_He hurries out past the lighthouse._)
CAESAR (_coming away from the parapet, shivering and out of sorts_). Rufio: this has been a mad expedition. We shall be beaten. I wish I knew how our men are getting on with that barricade across the great mole.
RUFIO (_angrily_). Must I leave my food and go starving to bring you a report?
CAESAR (_soothing him nervously_). No, Rufio, no. Eat, my son. Eat. (_He takes another turn, Rufio chewing dates meanwhile._) The Egyptians cannot be such fools as not to storm the barricade and swoop down on us here before it is finished. It is the first time I have ever run an avoidable risk. I should not have come to Egypt.
RUFIO. An hour ago you were all for victory.
CAESAR (_apologetically_). Yes: I was a fool--rash, Rufio--boyish.
RUFIO. Boyish! Not a bit of it. Here. (_Offering him a handful of dates._)
CAESAR. What are these for?
RUFIO. To eat. That's what's the matter with you. When a man comes to your age, he runs down before his midday meal. Eat and drink; and then have another look at our chances.
CAESAR (_taking the dates_). My age! (_He shakes his head and bites a date._) Yes, Rufio: I am an old man--worn out now--true, quite true. (_He gives way to melancholy contemplation, and eats another date._) Achillas is still in his prime: Ptolemy is a boy. (_He eats another date, and plucks up a little._) Well, every dog has his day; and I have had mine: I cannot complain. (_With sudden cheerfulness_) These dates are not bad, Rufio. (_Britannus returns, greatly excited, with a leathern bag. Caesar is himself again in a moment._) What now?
BRITANNUS (_triumphantly_). Our brave Rhodian mariners have captured a treasure. There! (_He throws the bag down at Caesar's feet._) Our enemies are delivered into our hands.
CAESAR. In that bag?
BRITANNUS. Wait till you hear, Caesar. This bag contains all the letters which have passed between Pompey's party and the army of occupation here.
CAESAR. Well?
BRITANNUS (_impatient of Caesar's slowness to grasp the situation_). Well, we shall now know who your foes are. The name of every man who has plotted against you since you crossed the Rubicon may be in these papers, for all we know.
CAESAR. Put them in the fire.
BRITANNUS. Put them--(_he gasps_)!!!!
CAESAR. In the fire. Would you have me waste the next three years of my life in proscribing and condemning men who will be my friends when I have proved that my friendship is worth more than Pompey's was--than Cato's is. O incorrigible British islander: am I a bull dog, to seek quarrels merely to shew how stubborn my jaws are?
BRITANNUS. But your honor--the honor of Rome----
CAESAR. I do not make human sacrifices to my honor, as your Druids do. Since you will not burn these, at least I can drown them. (_He picks up the bag and throws it over the parapet into the sea._)
BRITANNUS. Caesar: this is mere eccentricity. Are traitors to be allowed to go free for the sake of a paradox?
RUFIO (_rising_). Caesar: when the islander has finished preaching, call me again. I am going to have a look at the boiling water machine. (_He goes into the lighthouse._)
BRITANNUS (_with genuine feeling_). O Caesar, my great master, if I could but persuade you to regard life seriously, as men do in my country!
CAESAR. Do they truly do so, Britannus?
BRITANNUS. Have you not been there? Have you not seen them? What Briton speaks as you do in your moments of levity? What Briton neglects to attend the services at the sacred grove? What Briton wears clothes of many colors as you do, instead of plain blue, as all solid, well esteemed men should? These are moral questions with us.
CAESAR. Well, well, my friend: some day I shall settle down and have a blue toga, perhaps. Meanwhile, I must get on as best I can in my flippant Roman way. (_Apollodorus comes past the lighthouse._) What now?
BRITANNUS (_turning quickly, and challenging the stranger with official haughtiness_). What is this? Who are you? How did you come here?
APOLLODORUS. Calm yourself, my friend: I am not going to eat you. I have come by boat, from Alexandria, with precious gifts for Caesar.
CAESAR. From Alexandria!
BRITANNUS (_severely_). That is Caesar, sir.
RUFIO (_appearing at the lighthouse door_). What's the matter now?
APOLLODORUS. Hail, great Caesar! I am Apollodorus the Sicilian, an artist.
BRITANNUS. An artist! Why have they admitted this vagabond?
CAESAR. Peace, man. Apollodorus is a famous patrician amateur.
BRITANNUS (_disconcerted_). I crave the gentleman's pardon. (_To Caesar_) I understood him to say that he was a professional. (_Somewhat out of countenance, he allows Apollodorus to approach Caesar, changing places with him. Rufio, after looking Apollodorus up and down with marked disparagement, goes to the other side of the platform._)
CAESAR. You are welcome, Apollodorus. What is your business?
APOLLODORUS. First, to deliver to you a present from the Queen of Queens.