The Aeneid (21 page)

                As soon as his winged feet touched the roof of a Carthaginian
260         hut, he caught sight of Aeneas laying the foundations of the
                citadel and putting up buildings. His sword was studded with
                yellow stars of jasper, and glowing with Tyrian purple there
                hung from his shoulders a rich cloak given him by Dido into
                which she had woven a fine cross-thread of gold. Mercury
                wasted no time: ‘So now you are laying foundations for the high
                towers of Carthage and building a splendid city to please your
                
wife? Have you entirely forgotten your own kingdom and your
270         own destiny? The ruler of the gods himself, by whose divine will
                the heavens and the earth revolve, sends me down from bright
                Olympus and bids me bring these commands to you through
                the swift winds. What do you have in mind? What do you hope
                to achieve by idling your time away in the land of Libya? If the
                glory of such a destiny does not fire your heart, spare a thought
                for Ascanius as he grows to manhood, for the hopes of this Iulus
                who is your heir. You owe him the land of Rome and the
                kingdom of Italy.’

                No sooner had these words passed the lips of the Cyllenian
                god than he disappeared from mortal view and faded far into
280         the insubstantial air. But the sight of him left Aeneas dumb and
                senseless. His hair stood on end with horror and the voice stuck
                in his throat. He longed to be away and leave behind him this
                land he had found so sweet. The warning, the command from
                the gods, had struck him like a thunderbolt. But what, oh what,
                was he to do? What words dare he use to approach the queen
                in all her passion? How could he begin to speak to her? His
                thoughts moved swiftly now here, now there, darting in every
                possible direction and turning to every possible event, and as he
                pondered, this seemed to him a better course of action: he called
                Mnestheus, Sergestus and brave Serestus and ordered them to
                fit out the fleet and tell no one, to muster the men on the shore
290         with their equipment at the ready, and keep secret the reason
                for the change of plan. In the meantime, since the good queen
                knew nothing and the last thing she expected was the shattering
                of such a great love, he himself would try to make approaches
                to her and find the kindest time to speak and the best way to
                handle the matter. They were delighted to receive their orders
                and carried them out immediately.

                But the queen – who can deceive a lover? – knew in advance
                some scheme was afoot. Afraid where there was nothing to fear,
                she was the first to catch wind of their plans to leave, and while
                she was already in a frenzy, that same wicked Rumour brought
                word that the Trojans were fitting out their fleet and preparing
300         to sail away. Driven to distraction and burning with passion,
                she raged and raved round the whole city like a Bacchant stirred
                
by the shaking of the sacred emblems and roused to frenzy when
                she hears the name of Bacchus at the biennial orgy and the
                shouting on Mount Cithaeron calls to her in the night. At last
                she went to Aeneas, and before he could speak, she cried: ‘You
                traitor, did you imagine you could do this and keep it secret?
                Did you think you could slip away from this land of mine and
                say nothing? Does our love have no claim on you? Or the pledge
                your right hand once gave me? Or the prospect of Dido dying a
310         cruel death? Why must you move your fleet in these winter
                storms and rush across the high seas into the teeth of the north
                wind? You are heartless. Even if it were not other people’s fields
                and some home unknown you were going to, if old Troy were
                still standing, would any fleet set sail even for Troy in such
                stormy seas? Is it me you are running away from? I beg you, by
                these tears, by the pledge you gave me with your own right hand
                – I have nothing else left me now in my misery – I beg you by
                our union, by the marriage we have begun – if I have deserved
                any kindness from you, if you have ever loved anything about
                me, pity my house that is falling around me, and I implore you,
320         if it is not too late for prayers, give up this plan of yours. I am
                hated because of you by the peoples of Libya and the Numidian
                kings. My own Tyrians are against me. Because of you I have
                lost all conscience and self-respect and have thrown away the
                good name I once had, my only hope of reaching the stars. My
                guest is leaving me to my fate and I shall die. “Guest” is the only
                name I can now give the man who used to be my husband. What
                am I waiting for? For my brother Pygmalion to come and raze
                my city to the ground? For the Gaetulian Iarbas to drag me off
                in chains? Oh if only you had given me a child before you
                abandoned me! If only there were a little Aeneas to play in my
                palace! In spite of everything his face would remind me of yours
330         and I would not feel utterly betrayed and desolate.’

                She had finished speaking. Remembering the warnings of
                Jupiter, Aeneas did not move his eyes and struggled to fight
                down the anguish in his heart. At last he spoke these few words:
                ‘I know, O queen, you can list a multitude of kindnesses you
                have done me. I shall never deny them and never be sorry to
                remember Dido while I remember myself, while my spirit still
                
governs this body. Much could be said. I shall say only a little.
                It never was my intention to be deceitful or run away without
                your knowing, and do not pretend that it was. Nor have I ever
340         offered you marriage or entered into that contract with you. If
                the Fates were leaving me free to live my own life and settle all
                my cares according to my own wishes, my first concern would
                be to tend the city of Troy those of my dear people who survive.
                A lofty palace of Priam would still be standing and with my
                own hands I would have built a new citadel at Pergamum for
                those who have been defeated. But now Apollo of Gryneum has
                commanded me to claim the great land of Italy and “Italy” is
                the word on the lots cast at his Lycian oracle. That is my love,
                and that is my homeland. You are a Phoenician from Asia and
                you care for the citadel of Carthage and love the very sight of
350         this city in Libya; what objection can there be to Trojans settling
                in the land of Ausonia? How can it be a sin if we too look for
                distant kingdoms? Every night when the earth is covered in mist
                and darkness, every time the burning stars rise in the sky, I see
                in my dreams the troubled spirit of my father Anchises coming
                to me with warnings and I am afraid. I see my son Ascanius and
                think of the wrong I am doing him, cheating him of his kingdom
                in Hesperia and the lands the Fates have decreed for him. And
                now even the messenger of the gods has come down through
                the swift winds – I swear it by the lives of both of us – and
                brought commands from Jupiter himself. With my own eyes I
                have seen the god in the clear light of day coming within the
                walls of your city. With my own ears I have listened to his voice.
360         Do not go on causing distress to yourself and to me by these
                complaints. It is not by my own will that I search for Italy.’

                All the time he had been speaking she was turned away from
                him, but looking at him, speechless and rolling her eyes, taking
                in every part of him. At last she replied on a blaze of passion:
                ‘You are a traitor. You are not the son of a goddess and Dardanus
                was not the first founder of your family. It was the Caucasus
                that fathered you on its hard rocks and Hyrcanian tigers offered
                you their udders. Why should I keep up a pretence? Why should
                I hold myself in check in order to endure greater suffering in the
                future? He did not sigh when he saw me weep. He did not even
370         
turn to look at me. Was he overcome and brought to tears? Had
                he any pity for the woman who loves him? Where can I begin
                when there is so much to say? Now, after all this, can mighty
                Juno and the son of Saturn, the father of all, can they now look
                at this with the eyes of justice? Is there nothing we can trust in
                this life? He was thrown helpless on my shores and I took him
                in and like a fool settled him as partner in my kingdom. He had
                lost his fleet and I found it and brought his companions back
                from the dead. It drives me to madness to think of it. And now
                we hear about the augur Apollo and lots cast in Lycia and now
                to crown all the messenger of the gods is bringing terrifying
                commands down through the winds from Jupiter himself, as
380         though that is work for the gods in heaven, as though that is an
                anxiety that disturbs their tranquillity. I do not hold you or
                bandy words with you. Away you go. Keep on searching for
                your Italy with the winds to help you. Look for your kingdom
                over the waves. But my hope is that if the just gods have any
                power, you will drain a bitter cup among the ocean rocks,
                calling the name of Dido again and again, and I shall follow you
                not in the flesh but in the black fires of death and when its cold
                hand takes the breath from my body, my shade shall be with
                you wherever you may be. You will receive the punishment you
                deserve, and the news of it will reach me deep among the dead.’

                At these words she broke off and rushed indoors in utter
390         despair, leaving Aeneas with much to say and much to fear. Her
                attendants caught her as she fainted and carried her to her bed
                in her marble chamber. But Aeneas was faithful to his duty.
                Much as he longed to soothe her and console her sorrow, to
                talk to her and take away her pain, with many a groan and with
                a heart shaken by his great love, he nevertheless carried out the
                commands of the gods and went back to his ships.

                By then the Trojans were hard at work. All along the shore
                they were hauling the tall ships down to the sea. They set the
                well-caulked hulls afloat and in their eagerness to be away they
                were carrying down from the woods unworked timber and
400         green branches for oars. You could see them pouring out of
                every part of the city, like ants plundering a huge heap of
                wheat and storing it away in their home against the winter, and
                
their black column advances over the plain as they gather
                in their booty along a narrow path through the grass, some
                putting their shoulders to huge grains and pushing them along,
                others keeping the column together and whipping in the stragglers,
                and the whole track seethes with activity. What were your
410         feelings, Dido, as you looked at this? Did you not moan as you
                gazed out from the top of your citadel and saw the broad shore
                seething before your eyes and confusion and shouting all over
                the sea? Love is a cruel master. There are no lengths to which it
                does not force the human heart. Once again she had recourse to
                tears, once again she was driven to try to move his heart with
                prayers, becoming a suppliant and making her pride submit to
                her love, in case she should die in vain, leaving some avenue
                unexplored. ‘You see, Anna, the bustle all over the shore. They
                are all gathered there, the canvas is calling for the winds, the
                sailors are delighted and have set garlands on the ships’ sterns.
420         I was able to imagine that this grief might come; I shall be able
                to endure it. But Anna, do this one service for your poor sister.
                You are the only one the traitor respected. To you he entrusted
                his very deepest feelings. You are the only one who knew the
                right time to approach him and the right words to use. Go to
                him, sister. Kneel before our proud enemy and tell him I was
                not at Aulis and made no compact with the Greeks to wipe out
                the people of Troy. I sent no fleet to Pergamum. I did not tear
                up the ashes of his dead father Anchises. Why are his cruel ears
                closed to what I am saying? Where is he rushing away to? Ask
                him to do this last favour to the unhappy woman who loves him
430         and wait till there is a following wind and his escape is easy. I
                am no longer begging for the marriage which we once had and
                which he has now betrayed. I am not pleading with him to do
                without his precious Latium and abandon his kingdom. What I
                am asking for is some time, nothing more, an interval, a respite
                for my anguish, so that Fortune can teach me to grieve and to
                endure defeat. This is the last favour I shall beg. O Anna, pity
                your sister. I shall repay it in good measure at my death.’