Stories from Old English Poetry/The Wonderful Adventures of Pericles
THE WONDERFUL ADVENTURES OF
PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE.
(FROM SHAKESPEARE.)
THE old city of Tyre was once one of the proudest and wealthiest cities on the globe. Its commerce was extensive, its merchants prosperous, and its kings very powerful. But Tyre had lost something of its ancient grandeur when young Pericles ascended the throne of his fathers. Rival kingdoms had arisen whose power was feared and dreaded in Tyre. It was, therefore, very necessary that the young prince, who was learned and thoughtful, and possessed the virtues of mature manhood, should ally himself in marriage with some kingdom whose influence and power would prop the falling fortunes of Tyre.
With this purpose the prince began to look about him as soon as he was of age to marry. The kingdom of Syria was ruled by King Antiochus, a powerful put cruel monarch. He had one daughter of whom Pericles had heard as one of the fairest and most accomplished of women. Antiochus offered this daughter in marriage to any princely suitor who could guess a certain riddle, which he made and propounded to all who came to woo her. If the suitor should guess the answer to the riddle, he was to receive the princess in marriage; if he failed, his head was instantly struck off and placed on the palace gates as a warning to all fool-hardy lovers. Notwithstanding this horrible penalty, however, many princes had lost their heads through their love for the lady, and day after day a row of ghastly heads rotted on the palace walls of Antioch.
Now Pericles was a prince of very subtle and clear intellect, and also possessed of undaunted courage. He did not believe so hard a riddle could be made that he could not unravel its meaning, and as he knew an alliance with the princess of Antioch would be most favorable to the prosperity of Tyre, he set out prepared to risk his head for the possession of her hand.
He was received at the palace of Antiochus with much civility, and was urged very earnestly by the king not to peril his life so rashly, but Pericles was resolved on the attempt, and insisted on hearing the riddle propounded. Antiochus showed much anger at his resolution, and gave him the scroll which contained the fatal words. The princess herself, who was usually unmoved at the fate of her lovers, changed color, and trembled, in her anxiety for his fate.
Pericles read the words of the riddle, and with a quickness which showed his wonderful judgment, he divined its meaning. But he also guessed that to answer it rightly would forever offend the king, and make him his enemy. So he stood irresolute before the king and princess. If he showed the king he had guessed the secret, he would draw upon himself the vengeance of Antiochus, which was powerful enough to follow him to Tyre; if he failed to answer, his head was no longer his own. Thinking thus, he asked the king for some days in which to consider the matter. Antiochus, who read in the hesitation of Pericles the fact that his secret was discovered, granted his request, and Pericles went out of his presence, and in a few hours had fled the city and was on his way to Tyre. As soon as he had gone, Antiochus summoned to him one of his trusty villains, and instructed him to follow Pericles without delay, and take his life at the first opportunity, by poison or dagger, or in any manner which suited the occasion best. But Pericles was prudent and far-seeing. He knew that by guessing the riddle which Antiochus had imagined could never be solved, he had forever drawn upon himself the king’s wrath, and he judged that the wicked monarch would pursue him to the uttermost with his schemes for vengeance. He knew, too, that Tyre was not strong enough to engage in war with Antioch, and he thought it best to secrete himself for the present, judging that Antiochus would not harm Tyre if he should absent himself for a time from that city and go into some other kingdom. As soon as he reached his own palace, therefore, he called to him a friend and counselor called Helicanus, a man of most remarkable probity and loyalty, and, leaving his kingdom and all his affairs in his hands, set sail for the city of Tharsus.
Pericles had heard rumors of a famine in Tharsus, and he prudently loaded his ships with corn, believing that by relieving the distresses of the people he should gain their good-will, and be able to remain there, quietly hidden from the vengeance of Antiochus. He arrived at Tharsus and found Cleon, the governor, and his wife Dionyza, plunged in great affliction on account of the distress of the city. People were dying in the streets for want of food, and at the very gates of the governor’s palace young Pericles stumbled over the dead bodies of mothers, who lay clasping to their breasts the forms of their famished babes.
The corn with which his ships were loaded afforded instant relief, and the grateful people overwhelmed him with gratitude and blessings. He stayed there for some time in peace and quietness, till suddenly a letter was received from the trusty Helicanus, informing him that Antiochus had discovered his refuge and would try any means to compass his death.
On this, Pericles again took to his ships, which were still in the harbor of Tharsus, and, without proper preparation for the voyage, set out for any port which offered him shelter. Thus it happened, his ships not being properly manned and managed, that they were overtaken by a storm, which destroyed the vessel in which Pericles was, and he was cast upon the coast of Pentapolis, on a barren shore, which was, however, only a few hours’ ride from the palace of the very good king Simonides.
The waves which cast Pericles on this inhospitable-looking beach had engulfed all the worldly possessions he had brought with him from Tyre. He had thrown off his garments in his buffeting with the waters, and stood almost naked upon the shore. A few honest old fishermen, who were fishing near by, accosted him with words of pity for his forlorn condition. One of them offered him food and shelter for his pressing needs, and all crowded around him to hear of his escape.
They told him that the city of the good Simonides was only a few hours distant, and that on the morrow a grand tournament would be held in celebration of the princess Thaisa, the only child of Simonides. Whilst the fishermen were telling these things, to which Pericles listened with open ears, one of them dropped his net into the sea, and presently drew up, entangled in the lines, a complete suit of armor, somewhat rusty, but still fit for wearing. Pericles seized a hope which the sight of this armor suggested, and begged the fisherman to give it him, that he might be able to attend the tourney on the morrow, and joust in the princess’s honor, hoping that by his skill in feats of arms he might attract the notice, and win the favor of, the king. The kind-hearted fisherman consented, only requesting Pericles to remember him if he were successful, and the good old man who had offered him shelter, generously promised his best gown to make a tunic to wear underneath his armor. So Pericles retired to rest under the humble roof of the fisherman, with his brain full of hopes and plans, and slept the sleep of great weariness.
In the morning Pericles found himself quite bravely furnished forth. The wife of the fisher man had worked all night to make him garments from the ample gown of her husband, and the armor had been mended and polished as well as it might be. Besides all this, the old fellow lent him his only horse, and thus furnished, Pericles rode gallantly off for the court of Simonides.
He arrived at the tournament just in time to enter his name on the lists, and pass in with the other knights who took part. Simonides and Thaisa sat upon a raised throne, placed under a crimson canopy at the extremity of the amphitheatre in which the tourney was to take place. Pericles looked at the princess, and thought her the most beautiful woman he had ever gazed upon. Her face was modest, yet full of wit and sprightliness, and she was wonderfully graceful in person.
The first knight rode in, bearing on his shield an Ethiop reaching for the sun, with this motto: “Lux tua mihi vita;” then a second passed in, a third, a fourth, a fifth, and last came Pericles, his armor looking dull and tarnished beside the glittering suits of his rivals. The device on his shield was a withered branch, with a few green leaves budding from its top, and this motto: “In hac spe vivo.” Notwithstanding the meanness of his attire, the princeliness of Pericles shone through his clothing, so that to the clear eyes of the princess he seemed the noblest and bravest of them all.
The tourney commenced with the waving of colors, the sound of trumpets, and the ringing notes of the bugles. At the beginning of the combat Pericles and the first knight rode twice rapidly round the amphitheatre and approached each other at full speed with extended spears. At the shock of the onset both horses threw themselves nearly erect upon their haunches, and when the dust cleared away, the adversary of Pericles lay stretched, pale and fainting upon the earth. One after another thus engaged with him, and one by one they were left unhorsed and powerless, till at last, with broken spear and covered with the dust and sweat of the encounter, young Pericles stood alone upon the field. Weary and dizzy from the affray, he dismounted, and knelt at the feet of the princess to receive the silver wreath of victory, which she placed upon his head. With her fair hand she gave him her colors to wear upon his helmet, and looking up into her face he gave and received a glance which sealed the fate of both. For Pericles knew from that moment that for him there lived no other woman, and Thaisa felt her heart melted in the ardent glance from the eyes of the young stranger.
The tourney over, Simonides held a great banquet, at which all the nobles and ladies of the court were present. Among these, Pericles in his rusty armor proved himself as accomplished in the graces of the dance as in feats of arms.
Being pressed to show his skill in music, he took a lyre and improvised some words and music in praise of the princess, which more than ever won the heart of the king, who could not disguise his delight, but gave him the hand of Thaisa as his partner in the dance. So the night wore on in feasting and revelry till the last candle burnt out in the banquet hall.
Pericles remained some months at the court of Simonides. Every evening he resolved to leave the court on the following morning, and every morning he found some excuse for remaining one day more. The truth was, he loved very dearly the young princess, and believed that she loved him. But he knew his affairs were in so bad a state from the lasting enmity of King Antiochus that he felt it would be ungenerous in him to ask her to share his fallen fortunes. He had all this time kept his name and rank a secret from Simonides, believing his only safety was in his obscurity. But the noble old king had treated him with such distinction as his merits deserved, without asking whether he was of proud or humble origin. Simonides was one of the rarest of men, for he saw that true nobility was altogether in the man and not in his surroundings; and the manner in which he treated Prince Pericles proved that his people did not prize him too dearly, when they esteemed him the best and wisest of rulers.
Thaisa inherited her father’s spirit. To her, the young hero who had shown himself brave in arms, skilled in the elegant arts, and whose conversation she found each day sparkling with wit and knowledge, was worthy of her love, even if he were beggared by adverse fortune. So when at length one day her father pressed her to decide on some one to whom she would give herself in marriage, she went to her chamber and pouring out her heart in a letter to Simonides, she informed him that the shipwrecked stranger had gained her love, and she desired him only, of all men she had ever seen, to be her lord and husband.
Simonides was delighted at this answer, and sent to bring the young people together in his presence. At first, affecting to be angry, he accused Pericles of having secretly won his daughter’s affections. Pericles answered that he did love the princess. He confessed so much, for who could look on her and fail to love her? But he declared that, knowing his forlorn and beggared condition, he would sooner have died than made known his love.
At this Simonides could no longer dissemble, but, joining the hands of the young couple, he blessed them as his son and daughter, and went instantly out to vent his great joy in preparations for their immediate nuptials. Thus Pericles became the husband of this charming princess, and continued in the court of Simonides in the enjoyment of a contentment so perfect, that it seemed as if the future could have no more ill fortune in store for him.
But his adventures were not yet to cease. Nearly a year had passed since his marriage without hearing from his deserted kingdom of Tyre. Everything was not quiet in that city, however. Helicanus had ruled with great wisdom in his stead, but the people did not accept him as their real ruler, and were impatient and angry at the long, unexplained absence of their proper lord. At last impatience rose to mutiny against Pericles, and a deputation of lords waited on Helicanus to inform him, that as he had long wielded the sceptre very wisely, they wished to place the crown on his head, whose deserts were no less than such an honor. It happened that Helicanus had just received news of the death of Antiochus, and he now knew that it would be safe for his master to return to Tyre. He therefore begged the nobles to give him one year in which to find Pericles and restore to him his throne, and promised, if at the end of that time he were not found, to be himself crowned king. With this the citizens were obliged to be content, and this loyal minister of Pericles sent messengers and letters in all directions, to find the prince. After long search they heard of him in Pentapolis, and going to that city they besought him to accompany them back to Tyre.
When Thaisa found that he was really a prince of so much repute, she did not love him more, since that was impossible, but she rejoiced at his good fortune, and begged him to go immediately to Tyre. He would have had her remain at her father’s court till he could go to his kingdom and make preparations to receive her, but she longed so much to accompany him that he had not the will to forbid her. A ship was fitted out with all possible comfort and elegance, an ample train of female attendants accompanied Thaisa, and in great state they set sail from the harbor of Pentapolis. Everything seemed to promise a calm and pleasant journey. But the ill fortune which had for a season seemed to forget Pericles, again assailed him. A few days they sailed fairly and prosperously, but at the end of that time a violent storm arose, and the ship was beaten and tossed about by the waves. In the midst of this disaster, while the winds and the waves were at their worst, amid the roaring of waters, the creaking of timbers, and the volleying of thunder, an infant daughter was born to Pericles. Thaisa did not live to see the face of her babe; for worn out with her anxiety, and the terror she had endured from the storm, she fell into a stupor from which she could not be recovered, and breathed out her life on the bosom of her faithful servant, her nurse Lychorida. Pericles would have awaited the subsiding of the storm to put into the nearest port and give her queenly burial rites, but the superstition of the sailors had been aroused by the terrific storm. They insisted that the corpse of Thaisa should be thrown overboard, declaring that the storm would never abate while it was in the vessel. Pericles was obliged to yield to their clamors, and a chest was prepared for the body of the poor queen. Within this he spread the costliest stuffs the ship afforded,—cloths of gold and silver, rare spices, and choicest perfumes; then decorating her form with jewels, and shrouding it in satin, he placed Thaisa in the chest, and threw it into the sea.
Behold the wretched Pericles left upon his battered ship, with the poor babe in his arms, who smiled at him with the unconscious tranquillity of infancy. His heart was so torn with the loss of his queen, that he could find no comfort in the blessed gift of this little daughter. He looked on each tender feature, and found in the eye, the chin, the forehead, some trace of his dear wife. But this likeness only made his anguish more keen. Rousing himself at length from the apathy of grief in which he was plunged, he inquired what coast the ship sailed nearest. The sailors told him they were near Tharsus, but still a long distance from Tyre. He recalled the ancient friendship which had existed between Cleon and himself, and directed the ship to make for that harbor. She did so, and he reached the city without further adventure, receiving a cordial welcome from the Governor and Dionyza.
After the first warmth of the meeting and their condolings for the loss of his queen were over, Pericles placed his infant in the arms of Dionyza. He had bestowed upon her the name of Marina, from the sea, which was her birthplace. He begged these friends, in whom he had great confidence, to rear his child with their own daughter, declaring he would never cut his hair or shave his beard, until his daughter, now so tender an infant, should reach a marriageable age, and be united to a worthy husband. Having made these plans for her breeding and education, Pericles left the palace of Cleon and Dionyza, and returned to Tyre, where he retreived the sceptre from Helicanus, and commenced a peaceful and just reign.
In the mean time the costly chest in which Pericles had encased the body of his beloved wife had floated upon the waves, and was tossed ashore at Ephesus. Here some gentlemen, who were early abroad, found it among the wrecks, laying in the sand. It happened that there dwelt upon the coast in Ephesus, one of the wisest of living physicians, named Cerimon. He knew the properties of all herbs and minerals, their powers of cure, and prepared such wonderful remedies as the world had never seen. To him, then, this chest containing the lifeless body of Thaisa was brought. When Cerimon beheld this box, his first conjecture was that it was filled with golden treasure which had been washed off some lost vessel, and cast ashore. He ordered his servants to tear open the lid, and the pungent odor of the spices, with which Pericles had surrounded the body of Thaisa, filled the whole apartment. He bent over the chest with some curiosity to find what was indeed inclosed there, and beheld the face of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, upturned to his.
Her pale hands were folded on her breast, and her lips and cheeks still glowed with the hue of life. Transfixed with admiration, Cerimon bent over her, and his eye was caught by a written scroll which Pericles had placed beside her. He opened it and read:—
“Here I give to understand,
(If e’er this coffin drive a-land,)
I, King Pericles, have lost
This Queen, worth all our mundane cost.
Who finds her, give her burying,
She was the daughter of a King.
Besides this treasure for a fee,
The gods requite his charity.”
Now Cerimon had had great experience in bringing back to life people who had lain a long time apparently dead. Especially he recalled the case of an Egyptian who had lain nine hours in a trance, and had afterward been recovered. Remembering this, he resolved, if it were within human means, to preserve a lady so beautiful, and so precious to the unknown writer of the scroll. He ordered preparation to be made for a medicinal bath, all kinds of stimulants to be got ready, and proceeded himself to use those powerful medicaments by which he hoped to restore her to life. His labors were rewarded, for in a short time the color began to deepen on her cheek, from her parted lips a slight breath began to issue, and Cerimon could feel under the silken drapery in which she was enveloped, the beating of her heart. He redoubled his efforts, and presently she sat up, and in a faint voice asked for her lord and husband.
As soon as Thaisa was sufficiently recovered to hear the story of her supposed death, and her burial in the stormy waves, which had so kindly thrown her into the hands of Cerimon, all these circumstances were related to her. She was convinced that Pericles must have been lost in the sea from which she had been so wonderfully preserved, and she resolved to go to the temple of Diana, which was in Ephesus, and devote the rest of her life to the service of that goddess. Cerimon did not gainsay her wish, and she was soon enrolled among those who officiated at the votive altars, and became renowned as the most beautiful and chaste of all the priestesses of Diana.
Marina, left in the care of Cleon and Dionyza, grew daily in grace and loveliness. Her father had left as her attendant, the old servant Lychorida, who had nursed the queen in her illness upon the ocean, and in this faithful woman Marina found a second mother. The young princess was instructed in all feminine arts. She learned to embroider in a manner which was considered wonderful even then, when embroidery was one of the fine arts. She sang and played on the harp with great skill, and she was an apt scholar in the languages. The only daughter of Dionyza, who was called Philoten, was the sharer of all the princess’s studies, and her close companion, but while Marina was graceful and lovely, Philoten was deformed and ugly; where Marina excelled in accomplishments, she was left far behind.
Dionyza, for her daughter’s sake, beheld the beauty and sweetness of Marina with envious eyes. That her only child, nurtured with so much maternal love and fondness, should be outstripped by a stranger, was hateful beyond measure to her. She did not allow this feeling to be restrained even by the remembrance of how much Cleon and herself, indeed, the whole city of Tharsus, owed to the father of this young girl, nor did the sweet disposition of Marina in the least soften her heart; indeed, it served still more to steel it against her.
About this time, when Marina was nearly fourteen, and according to the custom of the country in which she lived, nearly of marriageable age, her old nurse Lychorida was taken ill and died. Marina had felt the growing coldness of Dionyza, and had clung with all the tenderness of her nature to this one dear old friend, as the only remembrance left her of her dead mother and absent father. When she died, her grief passed all bounds, and she could not be comforted. She went every day to weep over the grave of her old nurse, and to strew it with flowers.
While she was bent on the daily fulfillment of these pious rites, the wicked and ungrateful Dionyza conceived a fearful project. She had so long nourished her hatred of Marina, that it was only a short step to crime. Seeing how lonely and unprotected Marina remained, she plotted to take her life. She instructed one of her servants, a low villain, to join her in one of her walks, and drawing her into some lonely place, to kill her. The murderer obeyed her commands, and, tempting Marina to an unfrequented place on the sea-shore, he was about to slay her, when she begged for a short respite. He gave her a few minutes in which to prepare for death, and the princess, going by herself, knelt upon the sand, lifting up her pure eyes and hands toward heaven in supplication.
Now it happened that, as she knelt thus, some pirates prowling about for booty discovered her, and seizing upon her as a prize, bore her to their ship, which was anchored near by. They immediately set sail for Mitylene, and sold her there as a female slave. Here her skill in all womanly accomplishments proved a great source of good fortune to her. She was able to instruct in needle-work, music, and various other branches, and she sang so exquisitely that her voice was noted through the whole city. Lysimachus, the Governor of Mitylene, noticed the maiden, and desired that she should be kindly treated.
After Marina was carried off by the pirates, the servant of Dionyza returned to his mistress and told her that he had obeyed her commands, and that Marina was dead. On this the wicked woman revealed to Cleon what she had done. He professed to be much shocked at it, and reminded her how much cause they had to dread the anger of the citizens if this deed became known, since they had always cherished a grateful memory of Pericles for his services in their times of famine. But he felt no real sorrow for the deed, and readily joined with his wife in concealing what had been done. They agreed together to affect great grief, and to give out that Marina died suddenly from too much sorrow at her nurse’s death. Then they gave her empty coffin pompous burial, and erected over her vacant tomb a magnificent marble pillar, on which was an inscription which told in fine words the beauty and worth of Marina.
It now being near Marina’s fourteenth birthday, Pericles, who had all this time been reigning quietly in Tyre, ever cherishing deep in his heart the memory of his lost queen, resolved to go to Tharsus to bring home his daughter, and make plans for seeing her worthily married. He took with him a number of his nobles, among the rest the aged Helicanus, who had always been his chief adviser and counselor. They reached Tharsus in the midst of the ceremonies which attended the funeral of Marina. When Pericles heard that his daughter was dead, whom he had not loved less because her resemblance to her dead mother had made the tight of her impossible till time had softened his anguish, he was completely heart-broken He only remained long enough to listen to the fictitious story which Dionyza told him of her death, and then immediately took to his ships.
Scarcely caring whither he went, he allowed the ship to sail without question, until, by some wonderful fortune, they anchored in Mitylene, where Marina now dwelt. As soon as they were in harbor, Lysimachus, the Governor, who was a young and gallant gentleman, came on board the ship of Pericles to see the stranger who had thus unexpectedly arrived at their city. Pericles lay in his cabin, prone upon his face. His hair and beard, which had been uncut for fourteen years, streamed about his person, and made him look like a wild beast in his lair. Lysimachus approached him and endeavored to talk with him, to find out the motives for his visit to Mitylene, but he would not open his lips. After spending some time in vain endeavor to draw him from his apathy, Lysimachus remembered the wonderful voice of Marina, and the charm which it had to draw the wretched from the contemplation of their miseries, and he asked Helicanus, who now informed him of the name and rank of his master, if the maid might not be sent to try her skill upon the King.
Marina was sitting in a shady grove near the city, surrounded by a group of young girls, to some of whom she was teaching music, and instructing others in singing and embroidery, when the messengers of the Governor came for her. She hastened to go with them, and was soon led into the presence of Pericles. At first the sight of this wild-looking man, who lay stretched upon his face on a rude pallet, filled her with awe and dread; but very soon summoning courage, she commenced to sing a soothing melody.
He gave no sign that he heard. At length, growing more bold, she came near him and ventured to lay her hand upon his shoulder. She begged him to consider if he were not wrong in so giving way to grief, since there were others whose misfortunes had perhaps been as great as his, who did not so accuse Heaven in yielding to them. She told him that she, young as she was, had much cause to be sad, for by right she was a princess, whose father was a powerful king; that she had been born upon the sea, where her mother had died in giving her birth, and that her childhood had never known a father’s or a mother’s love. At her words, Pericles lifted up his face and beheld something in her features and the expression of her countenance which held his gaze entranced. He asked eagerly her name and the story of her birth. When she told him she was called Marina, and commenced relating her his story from infancy, Pericles became so filled with joy that he could hardly restrain himself to hear her adventures. He arose from his couch, and, taking her to his breast, he wept over her, till, wearied with his emotions, he fell into a deep slumber.
While he slept, the goddess Diana appeared to him in a shining vision, and directed him to proceed immediately to Ephesus with his new-found daughter, and there, upon his knees before her shrine, declare in a loud voice his name and his adventures. When he awoke, the impression of the dream was so strong upon him that he did not hesitate to obey it.
Before he set out for Ephesus, the young Governor, Lysimachus, sought the Prince, and asked of him in marriage the hand of his daughter Marina. He told Pericles that he had loved the maid since she first came to Mitylene, and he thought she had looked on him with favorable eyes. On being questioned, Marina avowed herself nowise averse to the handsome Lysimachus, and they were betrothed before setting out for Ephesus.
On their arrival at the temple of Diana, they found the building filed with a great crowd of people, who were in attendance at a festival in honor of the goddess, Among the citizens present was Cerimon, with a large train of attendants. Unabashed by the great number of spectators, Pericles knelt before the grand altar of Diana, and in a loud voice commenced relating all his adventures,—his shipwreck at Pentapolis, his marriage with Thaisa, her loss at sea, and the story of his daughter’s ill treatment from Dionyza.
While he was speaking the priestesses were listening, when suddenly the beautiful Thaisa gave a loud cry, and coming forward, threw herself upon the neck of Pericles. She learned for the first time, that she had a living husband and daughter, and he now found again the wife he thought to be dead. As soon as all had a little recovered from their first wonder, Thaisa told her story, which was confirmed by the learned Cerimon, and with tears of great joy Pericles folded his wife and daughter in one embrace.
As soon as they could make ready, the happy party set sail for Tyre. On their way thither they stopped at Pentapolis, and found the good King Simonides just expiring. He left his kingdom to Pericles, who placed on the throne his son-in-law and daughter, and left them to reign together. He also gave great privileges to the fishermen on that coast, in grateful memory of the favors he had received from them. Leaving Pentapolis, he went to Tharsus. Here he informed the citizens of the wrongs his daughter had suffered at the hands of Dionyza and Cleon, and the enraged populace took the lives of the guilty couple. The city was given into the hands of Pericles, who left the faithful Helicanus as its ruler and governor.
Then Pericles and his Queen went on to Tyre, where they reigned long years in wondrous happiness and peace. She bore him a son, who was afterward the Prince of Tyre, and at a very ripe age Pericles and Thaisa died, and their ashes were placed in one sepulchre.
