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diff --git a/15694-h/15694-h.htm b/15694-h/15694-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2883c45 --- /dev/null +++ b/15694-h/15694-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,24263 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> + <meta http-equiv="content-type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8" /> + <title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of A Friend of Cæsar, by William Stearns Davis</title> +<style type="text/css" title="text/css"> +/* <![CDATA[ */ + body { margin-left: 7%; margin-right: 7%; max-width: 40em;} + p {line-height: 1.33em;} + h2 { margin-top: 2em; } + h3 { margin-top: 1.5em; } + hr { width: 40%; } + ol.TOC { + list-style-type: upper-roman; + position: relative; + margin-right: 5%; + } + span.tocright { + position: absolute; right: 0; + } +/* ]]> */ +</style> +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Friend of Caesar, by William Stearns Davis + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Friend of Caesar + A Tale of the Fall of the Roman Republic. Time, 50-47 B.C. + +Author: William Stearns Davis + +Release Date: April 24, 2005 [EBook #15694] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: Unicode UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A FRIEND OF CAESAR *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Stefan Cramme and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + + + +</pre> + +<div style="text-align:center;"> +<h1>A Friend of Cæsar</h1> + +<h1 style="font-style:italic;">A Tale of the Fall of the Roman Republic</h1> + +<p>Time, 50–47 B.C.</p> + +<p style="font-weight:bold;font-size:150%;">By William Stearns Davis</p> +</div> + + +<blockquote style="margin-top: 2em;"> +<p> +"Others better may mould the life-breathing brass of the image,<br /> +And living features, I ween, draw from the marble, and better<br /> +Argue their cause in the court; may mete out the span of the heavens,<br /> +Mark out the bounds of the poles, and name all the stars in their turnings.<br /> +<i>Thine</i> 'tis the peoples to rule with dominion—this, Roman, remember!—<br /> +These for thee are the arts, to hand down the laws of the treaty,<br /> +The weak in mercy to spare, to fling from their high seats the haughty." +</p> + +<p> +—VERGIL, <i>Æn.</i> vi. 847-858. +</p> +</blockquote> + + +<h6 style="margin-top: 2em;">New York<br /> +Grosset & Dunlap Publishers<br /> +1900 +</h6> + + +<div style="text-align:center; margin-top: 2em;"> +<p> +To My Father +</p> + +<p> +William Vail Wilson Davis +</p> + +<p> +Who Has Taught Me More<br /> +Than All My Books +</p> +</div> + + + +<h2>Preface</h2> + + +<p> +If this book serves to show that Classical Life presented +many phases akin to our own, it will not have been written in +vain. +</p> + +<p> +After the book was planned and in part written, it was +discovered that Archdeacon Farrar had in his story of "Darkness +and Dawn" a scene, "Onesimus and the Vestal," which +corresponds very closely to the scene, "Agias and the Vestal," +in this book; but the latter incident was too characteristically +Roman not to risk repetition. If it is asked why such a book +as this is desirable after those noble fictions, "Darkness and +Dawn" and "Quo Vadis," the reply must be that these books +necessarily take and interpret the Christian point of view. +And they do well; but the Pagan point of view still needs its +interpretation, at least as a help to an easy apprehension of +the life and literature of the great age of the Fall of the +Roman Republic. This is the aim of "A Friend of Cæsar." +The Age of Cæsar prepared the way for the Age of Nero, +when Christianity could find a world in a state of such culture, +unity, and social stability that it could win an adequate and +abiding triumph. +</p> + +<p> +Great care has been taken to keep to strict historical probability; +but in one scene, the "Expulsion of the Tribunes," +there is such a confusion of accounts in the authorities themselves +that I have taken some slight liberties. +</p> + +<p> +W. S. D. +</p> + +<p> +Harvard University,<br /> +January 16,1900. +</p> + + + + + +<h2>Contents</h2> + +<ol class="TOC"> + <li><a href="#ch1">Præneste <span class="tocright">1</span></a></li> + + <li><a href="#ch2">The Upper Walks of Society <span class="tocright">21</span></a></li> + + <li><a href="#ch3">The Privilege of a Vestal <span class="tocright">37</span></a></li> + + <li><a href="#ch4">Lucius Ahenobarbus Airs His Grievance <span class="tocright">50</span></a></li> + + <li><a href="#ch5">A Very Old Problem <span class="tocright">73</span></a></li> + + <li> <a href="#ch6">Pompeius Magnus <span class="tocright">102</span></a></li> + + <li> <a href="#ch7">Agias's Adventure <span class="tocright">117</span></a></li> + + <li> <a href="#ch8">"When Greek Meets Greek" <span class="tocright">146</span></a></li> + + <li> <a href="#ch9">How Gabinius Met with a Rebuff <span class="tocright">159</span></a></li> + + <li><a href="#ch10">Mamercus Guards the Door <span class="tocright">172</span></a></li> + + <li> <a href="#ch11">The Great Proconsul <span class="tocright">198</span></a></li> + + <li> <a href="#ch12">Pratinas Meets Ill-Fortune <span class="tocright">217</span></a></li> + + <li> <a href="#ch13">What Befell at Baiæ <span class="tocright">241</span></a></li> + + <li> <a href="#ch14">The New Consuls <span class="tocright">262</span></a></li> + + <li> <a href="#ch15">The Seventh of January <span class="tocright">277</span></a></li> + + <li> <a href="#ch16">The Rubicon <span class="tocright">302</span></a></li> + + <li> <a href="#ch17">The Profitable Career of Gabinius <span class="tocright">329</span></a></li> + + <li> <a href="#ch18">How Pompeius Stamped with His Feet <span class="tocright">334</span></a></li> + + <li><a href="#ch19">The Hospitality of Demetrius <span class="tocright">364</span></a></li> + + <li><a href="#ch20">Cleopatra <span class="tocright">387</span></a></li> + + <li><a href="#ch21">How Ulamhala's Words Came True <span class="tocright">409</span></a></li> + + <li><a href="#ch22">The End of the Magnus <span class="tocright">433</span></a></li> + + <li> <a href="#ch23">Bitterness and Joy <span class="tocright">448</span></a></li> + + <li> <a href="#ch24">Battling for Life <span class="tocright">464</span></a></li> + + <li> <a href="#ch25">Calm after Storm <span class="tocright">496</span></a></li> + +</ol> + + + + +<h2 id="ch1">Chapter I</h2> + +<h2>Præneste</h2> + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p> +It was the Roman month of September, seven hundred and +four years after Romulus—so tradition ran—founded the +little village by the Tiber which was to become "Mother of +Nations," "Centre of the World," "Imperial Rome." To state +the time according to modern standards it was July, fifty years +before the beginning of the Christian Era. The fierce Italian +sun was pouring down over the tilled fields and stretches of +woodland and grazing country that made up the landscape, +and the atmosphere was almost aglow with the heat. The +dust lay thick on the pavement of the highway, and rose in +dense, stifling clouds, as a mule, laden with farm produce and +driven by a burly countryman, trudged reluctantly along. +</p> + +<p> +Yet, though the scene suggested the heat of midsummer, it +was far from being unrefreshing, especially to the eyes of one +newly come. For this spot was near "cool Præneste," one of +the favourite resorts of Latium to the wealthy, invalid, or +indolent of Rome, who shunned the excessive heat of the capital. +And they were wise in their choice; for Præneste, with +its citadel, which rose twelve hundred feet over the adjoining +country, commanded in its ample sweep both the views and the +breezes of the whole wide-spreading Campagna. Here, clustering +round the hill on which stood the far-famed "Temple of +Fortune," lay the old Latin town of the Prænestians; a little +farther westward was the settlement founded some thirty odd +years before by Sulla as a colony. Farther out, and stretching +off into the open country, lay the farmhouses and villas, +gardens and orchards, where splendid nuts and roses, and also +wine, grew in abundant measure. +</p> + +<p> +A little stream ran close to the highway, and here an irrigating +machine<a name="r1" href="#fn1">[1]</a> was raising water for the fields. Two men stood +on the treadmill beside the large-bucketed wheel, and as they +continued their endless walk the water dashed up into the +trough and went splashing down the ditches into the thirsty +gardens. The workers were tall, bronze-skinned Libyans, who +were stripped to the waist, showing their splendid chests and +rippling muscles. Beside the trough had just come two women, +by their coarse and unpretentious dress evidently slaves, bearing +large earthen water-pots which they were about to fill. +One of the women was old, and bore on her face all the marks +which a life of hard manual toil usually leaves behind it; the +other young, with a clear, smooth complexion and a rather +delicate Greek profile. The Libyans stopped their monotonous +trudge, evidently glad to have some excuse for a respite from +their exertions. +</p> + +<p> +"Ah, ha! Chloë," cried one of them, "how would you like +it, with your pretty little feet, to be plodding at this mill +all the day? Thank the Gods, the sun will set before a +great while. The day has been hot as the lap of an image of +Moloch!"<a name="r2" href="#fn2">[2]</a> +</p> + +<p> +"Well, Hasdrubal," said Chloë, the younger woman, with a +pert toss of her head, "if my feet were as large as yours, and +my skin as black and thick, I should not care to complain if I +had to work a little now and then." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! of course," retorted Hasdrubal, a little nettled. "Your +ladyship is too refined, too handsome, to reflect that people +with black skins as well as white may get heated and weary. +Wait five and twenty years, till your cheeks are a bit withered, +and see if Master Drusus doesn't give you enough to make you +tired from morning till night." +</p> + +<p> +"You rude fellow," cried Chloë, pouting with vexation, "I +will not speak to you again. If Master Drusus were here, I +would complain of you to him. I have heard that he is not +the kind of a master to let a poor maid of his be insulted." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, be still, you hussy!" said the elder woman, who felt +that a life of labour had spoiled what might have been quite +the equal of Chloë's good looks. "What do you know of +Master Drusus? He has been in Athens ever since you were +bought. I'll make Mamercus, the steward, believe you ought +to be whipped." +</p> + +<p> +What tart answer Chloë might have had on the end of her +tongue will never be known; for at this moment Mago, the +other Libyan, glanced up the road, and cried:— +</p> + +<p> +"Well, mistress, perhaps you will see our master very soon. +He was due this afternoon or next day from Puteoli, and what +is that great cloud of dust I see off there in the distance? +Can't you make out carriages and horsemen in the midst of it, +Hasdrubal?" +</p> + +<p> +Certainly there was a little cavalcade coming up the highway. +Now it was a mere blotch moving in the sun and +dust; then clearer; and then out of the cloud of light, flying +sand came the clatter of hoofs on the pavement, the whir of +wheels, and ahead of the rest of the party two dark Numidian +outriders in bright red mantles appeared, pricking along their +white African steeds. Chloë clapped her little hands, steadied +her water-pot, and sprang up on the staging of the treadmill +beside Mago. +</p> + +<p> +"It is he!" she cried. "It must be Master Drusus coming +back from Athens!" She was a bit excited, for an event like +the arrival of a new master was a great occurrence in the +monotonous life of a country slave. +</p> + +<p> +The cortège was still a good way off. +</p> + +<p> +"What is Master Drusus like?" asked Chloë "Will he +be kind, or will he be always whipping like Mamercus?" +</p> + +<p> +"He was not in charge of the estate," replied Laïs, the older +woman, "when he went away to study at Athens<a name="r3" href="#fn3">[3]</a> a few years +ago. But he was always kind as a lad. Cappadox, his old +body-servant, worshipped him. I hope he will take the charge +of the farm out of the steward's hands." +</p> + +<p> +"Here he comes!" cried Hasdrubal. "I can see him in the +nearest carriage." And then all four broke out with their +salutation, "<i>Salve! Salve, Domine!</i>"<a name="r4" href="#fn4">[4]</a> "Good health to your +lordship!" +</p> + +<p> +A little way behind the outriders rolled a comfortable, +four-wheeled, covered carriage,<a name="r5" href="#fn5">[5]</a> ornamented with handsome +embossed plate-work of bronze. Two sleek, jet-black steeds +were whirling it swiftly onward. Behind, a couple of equally +speedy grey mules were drawing an open wagon loaded with +baggage, and containing two smart-looking slave-boys. But +all four persons at the treadmill had fixed their eyes on the +other conveyance. Besides a sturdy driver, whose ponderous +hands seemed too powerful to handle the fine leather reins, +there were sitting within an elderly, decently dressed man, +and at his side another much younger. The former personage +was Pausanias, the freedman and travelling companion<a name="r6" href="#fn6">[6]</a> of his +friend and patron, Quintus Livius Drusus, the "Master Drusus" +of whom the slaves had been speaking. Chloë's sharp +eyes scanned her strange owner very keenly, and the impression +he created was not in the least unfavourable. Drusus was +apparently of about two and twenty. As he was sitting, he +appeared a trifle short in stature, with a thick frame, solid +shoulders, long arms, and large hands. His face was distinctively +Roman. The features were a little irregular, though +not to an unpleasant extent. The profile was aquiline. His +eyes were brown and piercing, turning perpetually this way +and that, to grasp every detail of the scene around. His dark, +reddish hair was clipped close, and his chin was smooth shaven +and decidedly firm—stern, even, the face might have been +called, except for the relief afforded by a delicately curved +mouth—not weak, but affable and ingenuous. Drusus wore a +dark travelling cloak,<a name="r7" href="#fn7">[7]</a> and from underneath it peeped his +tunic, with its stripe of narrow purple—the badge of the +Roman equestrian order.<a name="r8" href="#fn8">[8]</a> On his finger was another emblem +of nobility—a large, plain, gold ring, conspicuous among +several other rings with costly settings. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Salve! Salve, Domine!</i>" cried the slaves a second time, as +the carriage drew near. The young master pushed back the +blue woollen curtains in order to gain a better view, then +motioned to the driver to stop. +</p> + +<p> +"Are you slaves of mine?" was his question. The tone +was interested and kindly, and Mago saluted profoundly, and +replied:— +</p> + +<p> +"We are the slaves of the most noble Quintus Livius Drusus, +who owns this estate." +</p> + +<p> +"I am he," replied the young man, smiling. "The day is +hot. It grows late. You have toiled enough. Go you all +and rest. Here, Pausanias, give them each a philippus,<a name="r9" href="#fn9">[9]</a> with +which to remember my home-coming!" +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Eu! Eu! Io!</i><a name="r10" href="#fn10">[10]</a> <i>Domine!</i>" cried the slaves, giving vent +to their delight. And Chloë whispered to Laïs: "You were +right. The new master will be kind. There will not be so +many whippings." +</p> + +<p> +But while Pausanias was fumbling in the money-bags, a new +instance of the generosity of Drusus was presented. Down a +by-path in the field filed a sorrowful company; a long row of +slaves in fetters, bound together by a band and chain round +the waist of each. They were a disreputable enough gang of +unkempt, unshaven, half-clothed wretches: Gauls and Germans +with fair hair and giant physiques; dark-haired Syrians; +black-skinned Africans,—all panting and groaning, +clanking their chains, and cursing softly at the two sullen +overseers, who, with heavy-loaded whips, were literally driving +them down into the road. +</p> + +<p> +Again Drusus spoke. +</p> + +<p> +"Whose slaves are these? Mine?" +</p> + +<p> +"They are your lordship's," said the foremost overseer, who +had just recognized his newly come employer. +</p> + +<p> +"Why are they in chains?" asked Drusus. +</p> + +<p> +"Mamercus found them refractory," replied the guard, "and +ordered them to be kept in the underground prison,<a name="r11" href="#fn11">[11]</a> and to +work in the chain gang." +</p> + +<p> +The young man made a motion of disgust. +</p> + +<p> +"Bah!" he remarked, "the whole <i>familia</i><a name="r12" href="#fn12">[12]</a> will be in fetters +if Mamercus has his way much longer. Knock off those chains. +Tell the wretches they are to remain unshackled only so long +as they behave. Give them three skins to-night from which to +drink their master's health. Drive on, Cappadox!" +</p> + +<p> +And before the fettered slaves could comprehend their +release from confinement, and break out into a chorus of barbarous +and uncouth thanksgivings and blessings, the carriage +had vanished from sight down the turn of the road. +</p> + + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p> +Who was Quintus Livius Drusus? Doubtless he would +have felt highly insulted if his family history had not been +fairly well known to every respectable person around Præneste +and to a very large and select circle at Rome. When a man +could take Livius<a name="r13" href="#fn13">[13]</a> for his gentile name, and Drusus for his +cognomen, he had a right to hold his head high, and regard +himself as one of the noblest and best of the imperial city. +But of course the Drusian house had a number of branches, +and the history of Quintus's direct family was this. He was +the grandson of that Marcus Livius Drusus<a name="r14" href="#fn14">[14]</a> who, though an +aristocrat of the aristocrats, had dared to believe that the +oligarchs were too strong, the Roman Commons without character, +and that the Italian freemen were suffering from wrongs +inflicted by both of the parties at the capital. For his efforts +to right the abuses, he had met with a reward very common +to statesmen of his day, a dagger-thrust from the hand of an +undiscovered assassin. He had left a son, Sextus, a man of +culture and talent, who remembered his father's fate, and +walked for a time warily in politics. Sextus had married +twice. Once to a very noble lady of the Fabian gens, the +mother of his son Quintus. Then some years after her death +he took in marriage a reigning beauty, a certain Valeria, who +soon developed such extravagance and frivolity, that, soon +after she bore him a daughter, he was forced "to send her a +messenger"; in other words, to divorce her. The daughter +had been put under the guardianship of Sextus's sister-in-law +Fabia, one of the Vestal virgins at Rome. Sextus himself had +accepted an appointment to a tribuneship in a legion of Cæsar +in Gaul. When he departed for the wars he took with him +as fellow officer a life-long friend, Caius Cornelius Lentulus; +and ere leaving for the campaign the two had formed a compact +quite in keeping with the stern Roman spirit that made +the child the slave of the father: Young Quintus Drusus +should marry Cornelia, Lentulus's only child, as soon as the +two came to a proper age. And so the friends went away to +win glory in Gaul; to perish side by side, when Sabinus's ill-fated +legion was cut off by the Eburones.<a name="r15" href="#fn15">[15]</a> +</p> + +<p> +The son and the daughter remained. Quintus Drusus had +had kindly guardians; he had been sent for four years to the +"University" at Athens; had studied rhetoric and philosophy; +and now he was back with his career before him,—master of +himself, of a goodly fortune, of a noble inheritance of high-born +ancestry. And he was to marry Cornelia. No thought +of thwarting his father's mandate crossed his mind; he was +bound by the decree of the dead. He had not seen his betrothed +for four years. He remembered her as a bright-eyed, +merry little girl, who had an arch way of making all to mind +her. But he remembered too, that her mother was a vapid +lady of fashion, that her uncle and guardian was Lucius Cornelius +Lentulus Crus, Consul-elect,<a name="r16" href="#fn16">[16]</a> a man of little refinement +or character. And four years were long enough to mar a +young girl's life. What would she be like? What had time +made of her? The curiosity—we will not call it passion—was +overpowering. Pure "love" was seldom recognized as +such by the age. When the carriage reached a spot where two +roads forked, leading to adjacent estates, Drusus alighted. +</p> + +<p> +"Is her ladyship Cornelia at the villa of the Lentuli?" was +his demand of a gardener who was trimming a hedge along +the way. +</p> + +<p> +"Ah! Master Drusus," cried the fellow, dropping his sickle +in delight. "Joy to see you! Yes, she is in the grove by the +villa; by the great cypress you know so well. But how you +have changed, sir—" +</p> + +<p> +But Drusus was off. The path was familiar. Through the +trees he caught glimpses of the stately mazes of colonnades of +the Lentulan villa, surrounded by its artificially arranged gardens, +and its wide stretches of lawn and orchard. The grove +had been his playground. Here was the oak under which +Cornelia and he had gathered acorns. The remnants of the +little brush house they had built still survived. His step +quickened. He heard the rush of the little stream that wound +through the grove. Then he saw ahead of him a fern thicket, +and the brook flashing its water beyond. In his recollection +a bridge had here crossed the streamlet. It had been +removed. Just across, swayed the huge cypress. Drusus +stepped forward. At last! He pushed carefully through the +thicket, making only a little noise, and glanced across the +brook. +</p> + +<p> +There were ferns all around the cypress. Ivies twined +about its trunk. On the bank the green turf looked dry, but +cool. Just under the tree the brook broke into a miniature +cascade, and went rippling down in a score of pygmy, sparkling +waterfalls. On a tiny promontory a marble nymph, a +fine bit of Greek sculpture, was pouring, without respite, from +a water-urn into the gurgling flood. But Drusus did not gaze +at the nymph. Close beside the image, half lying, half sitting, +in an abandon only to be produced by a belief that she was +quite alone, rested a young woman. It was Cornelia. +</p> + +<p> +Drusus had made no disturbance, and the object on which +he fastened his eyes had not been in the least stirred out of +a rather deep reverie. He stood for a while half bashful, +half contemplative. Cornelia had taken off her shoes and +let her little white feet trail down into the water. She wore +only her white tunic, and had pushed it back so that her +arms were almost bare. At the moment she was resting +lazily on one elbow, and gazing abstractedly up at the +moving ocean of green overhead. She was only sixteen; but +in the warm Italian clime that age had brought her to +maturity. No one would have said that she was beautiful, +from the point of view of mere softly sensuous Greek beauty. +Rather, she was handsome, as became the daughter of Cornelii +and Claudii. She was tall; her hair, which was bound +in a plain knot on the back of her head, was dark—almost +black; her eyes were large, grey, lustrous, and on occasion +could be proud and angry. Yet with it all she was pretty—pretty, +said Drusus to himself, as any girl he had seen in +Athens. For there were coy dimples in her delicate little +chin, her finely chiselled features were not angular, while her +cheeks were aglow with a healthy colour that needed no rouge +to heighten. In short, Cornelia, like Drusus, was a Roman; +and Drusus saw that she was a Roman, and was glad. +</p> + +<p> +Presently something broke the reverie. Cornelia's eyes +dropped from the treetops, and lighted up with attention. +One glance across the brook into the fern thicket; then one +irrepressible feminine scream; and then:— +</p> + +<p> +"Cornelia!" "Quintus!" +</p> + +<p> +Drusus sprang forward, but almost fell into the brooklet. +The bridge was gone. Cornelia had started up, and tried to +cover her arms and shake her tunic over her feet. Her +cheeks were all smiles and blushes. But Drusus's situation +was both pathetic and ludicrous. He had his fiancée almost +in his arms, and yet the stream stopped him. Instantly +Cornelia was in laughter. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! My second Leander," she cried, "will you be brave, +and swim again from Abydos to Sestos to meet your Hero?" +</p> + +<p> +"Better!" replied Drusus, now nettled; "see!" And +though the leap was a long one he cleared it, and landed +close by the marble nymph. +</p> + +<p> +Drusus had not exactly mapped out for himself the method +of approaching the young woman who had been his child playmate. +Cornelia, however, solved all his perplexity. Changing +suddenly from laughter into what were almost tears, she flung +her arms around his neck, and kissed him again and again. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Quintus! Quintus!" she cried, nearly sobbing, "<i>I am</i> +so glad you have come!" +</p> + +<p> +"And I am glad," said the young man, perhaps with a +tremor in his voice. +</p> + +<p> +"I never knew how I wanted you, until you are here," she +continued; "I didn't look for you to-day. I supposed you +would come from Puteoli to-morrow. Oh! Quintus, you must +be very kind to me. Perhaps I am very stupid. But I am +tired, tired." +</p> + +<p> +Drusus looked at her in a bit of astonishment. +</p> + +<p> +"Tired! I can't see that you look fatigued." +</p> + +<p> +"Not in body," went on Cornelia, still holding on to him. +"But here, sit down on the grass. Let me hold your hands. +You do not mind. I want to talk with you. No, don't +interrupt. I must tell you. I have been here in Præneste +only a week. I wanted to get away from Baiæ.<a name="r17" href="#fn17">[17]</a> I was +afraid to stay there with my mother." +</p> + +<p> +"Afraid to stay at that lovely seashore house with your +mother!" exclaimed Drusus, by no means unwilling to sit as +entreated, but rather bewildered in mind. +</p> + +<p> +"I was afraid of Lucius Ahenobarbus, the consular<a name="r18" href="#fn18">[18]</a> Domitius's +second son. <i>I don't like him! there!</i>" and Cornelia's +grey eyes lit up with menacing fire. +</p> + +<p> +"Afraid of Lucius Ahenobarbus!" laughed Drusus. "Well, +I don't think I call him a very dear friend. But why should +he trouble you?" +</p> + +<p> +"It was ever since last spring, when I was in the new theatre<a name="r19" href="#fn19">[19]</a> +seeing the play, that he came around, thrust himself upon me, +and tried to pay attentions. Then he has kept them up ever +since; he followed us to Baiæ; and the worst of it is, my +mother and uncle rather favour him. So I had Stephanus, my +friend the physician, say that sea air was not good for me, and +I was sent here. My mother and uncle will come in a few +days, but not that fellow Lucius, I hope. I was so tired trying +to keep him off." +</p> + +<p> +"I will take care of the knave," said Drusus, smiling. "So +this is the trouble? I wonder that your mother should have +anything to do with such a fellow. I hear in letters that he +goes with a disreputable gang. He is a boon companion with +Marcus Læca, the old Catilinian,<a name="r20" href="#fn20">[20]</a> who is a smooth-headed +villain, and to use a phrase of my father's good friend Cicero—'has +his head and eyebrows always shaved, that he may not +be said to have one hair of an honest man about him.' But he +will have to reckon with me now. Now it is my turn to talk. +Your long story has been very short. Nor is mine long. My +old uncle Publius Vibulanus is dead. I never knew him well +enough to be able to mourn him bitterly. Enough, he died at +ninety; and just as I arrive at Puteoli comes a message that +I am his sole heir. His freedmen knew I was coming, +embalmed the body, and wait for me to go to Rome to-morrow +to give the funeral oration and light the pyre. He has +left a fortune fit to compare with that of Crassus<a name="r21" href="#fn21">[21]</a>—real +estate, investments, a lovely villa at Tusculum. And now I—no, +<i>we</i>—are wealthy beyond avarice. Shall we not thank +the Gods?" +</p> + +<p> +"I thank them for nothing," was her answer; then more +shyly, "except for your own coming; for, Quintus, you—you—will +marry me before very long?" +</p> + +<p> +"What hinders?" cried the other, in the best of spirits. +"To-morrow I go to Rome; then back again! And then all +Præneste will flock to our marriage train. No, pout no more +over Lucius Ahenobarbus. He shan't pay disagreeable attentions. +And now over to the old villa; for Mamercus is eating +his heart out to see me!" +</p> + +<p> +And away they went arm in arm. +</p> + +<p> +Drusus's head was in the air. He had resolved to marry +Cornelia, cost what it might to his desires. He knew now that +he was affianced to the one maiden in the world quite after his +own heart. +</p> + + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p> +The paternal villa of Drusus lay on the lower part of the +slope of the Præneste citadel, facing the east. It was a +genuine country and farming estate—not a mere refuge from +the city heat and hubbub. The Drusi had dwelt on it for generations, +and Quintus had spent his boyhood upon it. The +whole mass of farm land was in the very pink of cultivation. +There were lines of stately old elms enclosing the estate; and +within, in regular sequence, lay vineyards producing the rather +poor Præneste wine, olive orchards, groves of walnut trees, +and many other fruits. Returning to the point where he had +left the carriage, Drusus led Cornelia up a broad avenue flanked +by noble planes and cypresses. Before them soon stood, or +rather stretched, the country house. It was a large grey stone +building, added to, from time to time, by successive owners. +Only in front did it show signs of modern taste and elegance. +Here ran a colonnade of twelve red porphyry pillars, with Corinthian +capitals. The part of the house reserved for the +master lay behind this entrance way. Back of it rambled the +structure used by the farm steward, and the slaves and cattle. +The whole house was low—in fact practically one-storied; +and the effect produced was perhaps substantial, but hardly +imposing. +</p> + +<p> +Up the broad avenue went the two young people; too busy +with their own gay chatter to notice at a distance how figures +were running in and out amid the colonnade, and how the +pillars were festooned with flowers. But as they drew nearer +a throng was evident. The whole farm establishment—men, +women, and children—had assembled, garlanded and gayly +dressed, to greet the young master. Perhaps five hundred +persons—nearly all slaves—had been employed on the huge +estate, and they were all at hand. As Drusus came up the +avenue, a general shout of welcome greeted him. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Ave! Ave! Domine!</i>" and there were some shouts as +Cornelia was seen of, "<i>Ave! Domina!</i>" +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Domina</i><a name="r22" href="#fn22">[22]</a> here very soon," said Drusus, smiling to the +young lady; and disengaging himself from her, he advanced +to greet personally a tall, ponderous figure, with white, flowing +hair, a huge white beard, and a left arm that had been severed +at the wrist, who came forward with a swinging military +stride that seemed to belie his evident years. +</p> + +<p> +"All hail, dearest Mamercus!" exclaimed the young man, +running up to the burly object. "Here is the little boy +you used to scold, fondle, and tell stories to, back safe and +sound to hear the old tales and to listen to some more +admonitions." +</p> + +<p> +The veteran made a hurried motion with his remaining +hand, as if to brush something away from his eyes, and his +deep voice seemed a trifle husky when he replied, speaking +slowly:— +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Mehercle!</i><a name="r23" href="#fn23">[23]</a> All the Gods be praised! The noble Sextus +living again in the form of his son! Ah! This makes my +old heart glad;" and he held out his hand to Drusus. But +the young man dashed it away, and flinging his arms around +Mamercus's neck, kissed him on both cheeks. Then when +this warm greeting was over, Drusus had to salute Titus +Mamercus, a solid, stocky, honest-faced country lad of eighteen, +the son of the veteran; and after Titus—since the +Mamerci and Drusi were remotely related and the <i>jus +oscului</i><a name="r24" href="#fn24">[24]</a>—less legally, the "right of kissing"—existed between +them, he felt called upon to press the cheek of +Æmilia, Mamercus's pretty daughter, of about her brother's +age. Cornelia seemed a little discomposed at this, and perhaps +so gave her lover a trifling delight. But next he had +to shake all the freedmen by the hand, also the older and +better known slaves; and to say something in reply to their +congratulations. The mass of the slaves he could not know +personally; but to the assembled company he spoke a few +words, with that quiet dignity which belongs to those who +are the heirs of generations of lordly ancestors. +</p> + +<p> +"This day I assume control of my estate. All past offences +are forgiven. I remit any punishments, however justly imposed. +To those who are my faithful servants and clients +I will prove a kind and reasonable master. Let none in the +future be mischievous or idle; for them I cannot spare. But +since the season is hot, in honour of my home-coming, for the +next ten days I order that no work, beyond that barely +needed, be done in the fields. Let the familia enjoy rest, +and let them receive as much wine as they may take without +being unduly drunken. Geta, Antiochus, and Kebes, who +have been in this house many years, shall go with me before +the prætor, to be set free." +</p> + +<p> +And then, while the slaves still shouted their <i>aves</i> and +<i>salves</i>, Mamercus led Drusus and Cornelia through the old +villa, through the atrium where the fountain tinkled, and +the smoky, waxen death-masks of Quintus's noble ancestors +grinned from the presses on the wall; through the handsomely +furnished rooms for the master of the house; out to +the barns and storehouses, that stretched away in the rear +of the great farm building. Much pride had the veteran +when he showed the sleek cattle, the cackling poultry-yard, +and the tall stacks of hay; only he growled bitterly over +what he termed the ill-timed leniency of his young patron +in releasing the slaves in the chain-gang. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, such times!" he muttered in his beard; "here's this +young upstart coming home, and teaches me that such dogs +as I put in fetters are better set at large! There'll be a +slave revolt next, and some night all our throats will be +cut. But it's none of my doing." +</p> + +<p> +"Well," said Drusus, smiling, "I've been interested at +Athens in learning from philosophy that one owes some kindness +even to a slave. But it's always your way, Mamercus, +to tell how much better the old times were than the new." +</p> + +<p> +"And I am right," growled the other. "Hasn't a man who +fought with Marius, and helped to beat those northern giants, +the Cimbri and Teutones, a right to his opinion? The times +are evil—evil! No justice in the courts. No patriotism in +the Senate. Rascality in every consul and prætor. And the +'Roman People' orators declaim about are only a mob! <i>Vah!</i> +We need an end to this game of fauns and satyrs!" +</p> + +<p> +"Come," said Drusus, "we are not at such a direful strait +yet. There is one man at least whom I am convinced is not +altogether a knave; and I have determined to throw in my +lot with him. Do you guess, Mamercus?" +</p> + +<p> +"Cæsar?" +</p> + +<p> +Drusus nodded. Mamercus broke out into a shout of +approval. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Euge!</i> Unless my son Decimus, who is centurion with +him, writes me false, <i>he</i> is a man!" +</p> + +<p> +But Cornelia was distressed of face. +</p> + +<p> +"Quintus," she said very gravely, "do you know that I +have often heard that Cæsar is a wicked libertine, who +wishes to make himself tyrant? What have you done?" +</p> + +<p> +"Nothing rashly," said Drusus, also quite grave; "but I +have counted the matter on both sides—the side of Pompeius +and the Senate, and the side of Cæsar—and I have written to +Balbus, Cæsar's manager at Rome, that I shall use my tiny +influence for the proconsul of the Gauls." +</p> + +<p> +Cornelia seemed greatly affected; she clasped and unclasped +her hands, pressed them to her brows; then when she let +them fall, she was again smiling. +</p> + +<p> +"Quintus," she said, putting her arm around him, "Quintus, +I am only a silly little girl. I do not know anything about +politics. You are wiser than I, and I can trust you. But +please don't quarrel with my uncle Lentulus about your +decision. He would be terribly angry." +</p> + +<p> +Quintus smiled in turn, and kissing her, said: "Can you +trust me? I hope so. And be assured I will do all I may, +not to quarrel with your uncle. And now away with all this +silly serious talk! What a pity for Mamercus to have been so +gloomy as to introduce it! What a pity I must go to Rome +to-morrow, and leave this dear old place! But then, I have +to see my aunt Fabia, and little Livia, the sister I haven't met +since she was a baby. And while I am in Rome I will do +something else—can you guess?" Cornelia shook her head. +"Carpenters, painters, masons! I will send them out to +make this old villa fresh and pretty for some one who, I hope, +will come here to live in about a month. No, don't run +away," for Cornelia was trying to hide her flushed face by +flight; "I have something else to get—a present for your +own dear self. What shall it be? I am rich; cost does not +matter." +</p> + +<p> +Cornelia pursed her lips in thought. +</p> + +<p> +"Well," she remarked, "if you could bring me out a pretty +boy, not too old or too young, one that was honest and quick-witted, +he would be very convenient to carry messages to +you, and to do any little business for me." +</p> + +<p> +Cornelia asked for a slave-boy just as she might have asked +for a new pony, with that indifference to the question of +humanity which indicated that the demarcation between a +slave and an animal was very slight in her mind. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! that is nothing," said Drusus; "you shall have the +handsomest and cleverest in all Rome. And if Mamercus +complains that I am extravagant in remodelling the house, let +him remember that his wonderful Cæsar, when a young man, +head over ears in debt, built an expensive villa at Aricia, and +then pulled it down to the foundations and rebuilt on an +improved plan. Farewell, Sir Veteran, I will take Cornelia +home, and then come back for that dinner which I know the +cook has made ready with his best art." +</p> + +<p> +Arm in arm the young people went away down the avenue +of shade trees, dim in the gathering twilight. Mamercus +stood gazing after them. +</p> + +<p> +"What a pity! What a pity!" he repeated to himself, +"that Sextus and Caius are not alive; how they would have +rejoiced in their children! Why do the fates order things as +they do? Only let them be kind enough to let me live until +I hold another little Drusus on my knee, and tell him of the +great battles! But the Gods forbid, Lentulus should find +out speedily that his lordship has gone over to Cæsar; or +there will be trouble enough for both his lordship and my +lady. The consul-elect is a stubborn, bitter man. He would +be terribly offended to give his niece in marriage to a political +enemy. But it may all turn out well. Who knows?" And +he went into the house. +</p> + + + + + +<h2 id="ch2">CHAPTER II</h2> + +<h2>THE UPPER WALKS OF SOCIETY</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p> +It was very early in the morning. From the streets, far below, +a dull rumbling was drifting in at the small, dim windows. +On the couch, behind some faded curtains, a man turned and +yawned, grunted and rubbed his eyes. The noise of the heavy +timber, stone, and merchandise wagons hastening out of the city +before daybreak,<a name="r25" href="#fn25">[25]</a> jarred the room, and made sleep almost +impossible. The person awakened swore quietly to himself +in Greek. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Heracles!</i> Was ever one in such a city! What malevolent +spirit brought me here? Throat-cutting on the streets at +night; highwaymen in every foul alley; unsafe to stir at evening +without an armed band! No police worth mentioning; +freshets every now and then; fires every day or else a building +tumbles down. And then they must wake me up at an unearthly +hour in the morning. Curses on me for ever coming +near the place!" And the speaker rolled over on the bed, and +shook himself, preparatory to getting up. +</p> + +<p> +"Bah! Can these Roman dogs never learn that power is to be +used, not abused? Why don't they spend some of their revenues +to level these seven hills that shut off the light, and +straighten and widen their abominable, ill-paved streets, and +keep houses from piling up as if to storm Olympus? Pshaw, I +had better stop croaking, and be up and about." +</p> + +<p> +The speaker sat up in bed, and clapped his hands. Into the +ill-lighted and unpretentiously furnished room came a tall, +bony, ebon-skinned old Ethiopian, very scantily attired, who +awaited the wishes of his master. +</p> + +<p> +"Come, Sesostris," said the latter, "get out my best +<i>himation</i><a name="r26" href="#fn26">[26]</a>—the one with the azure tint. Give me a clean +<i>chiton</i>,<a name="r27" href="#fn27">[27]</a> and help me dress." +</p> + +<p> +And while the servant bustled briskly about his work, Pratinas, +for such was his lord's name, continued his monologue, +ignoring the presence of his attendant. "Not so bad with me +after all. Six years ago to-day it was I came to Rome, with +barely an obol of ready money, to make my fortune by my wits. +Zeus! But I can't but say I've succeeded. A thousand sesterces +here and five hundred there, and now and then a better +stroke of fortune—politics, intrigues, gambling; all to the same +end. And now?—oh, yes, my 'friends' would say I am very +respectable, but quite poor—but they don't know how I have +economized, and how my account stands with Sosthenes the +banker at Alexandria. My old acquaintance with Lucius Domitius +was of some use. A few more months of this life and I am +away from this beastly Rome, to enjoy myself among civilized +people." +</p> + +<p> +Pratinas went over to a large wooden chest with iron clasps, +unlocked it, and gazed for a moment inside with evident satisfaction. +"There are six good talents in there," he remarked to +himself, "and then there is Artemisia." +</p> + +<p> +He had barely concluded this last, hardly intelligible assertion, +when the curtain of the room was pushed aside, and in +came a short, plump, rosy-faced little maiden of twelve, with a +clearly chiselled Greek profile and lips as red as a cherry. Her +white chiton was mussed and a trifle soiled; and her thick black +hair was tied back in a low knot, so as to cover what were two +very shapely little ears. All in all, she presented a very pretty +picture, as the sunlight streamed over her, when she drew +back the hangings at the window. +</p> + +<p> +"Good morning, Uncle Pratinas," she said sweetly. +</p> + +<p> +"Good morning, Artemisia, my dear," replied the other, giving +her round neck a kiss, and a playful pinch. "You will +practise on your lyre, and let Sesostris teach you to sing. +You know we shall go back to Alexandria very soon; and it +is pleasant there to have some accomplishments." +</p> + +<p> +"And must you go out so early, uncle?" said the girl. +"Can't you stay with me any part of the day? Sometimes I +get very lonely." +</p> + +<p> +"Ah! my dear," said Pratinas, smoothly, "if I could do +what I wished, I would never leave you. But business cannot +wait. I must go and see the noble Lucius Calatinus on +some very important political matters, which you could not +understand. Now run away like a good girl, and don't become +doleful." +</p> + +<p> +Artemisia left the room, and Pratinas busied himself about +the fine touches of his toilet. When he held the silver mirror +up to his face, he remarked to himself that he was not an +unhandsome man. "If I did not have to play the philosopher, +and wear this thick, hot beard,<a name="r28" href="#fn28">[28]</a> I would not be ashamed to +show my head anywhere." Then while he perfumed himself +with oil of saffron out of a little onyx bottle, he went on:— +</p> + +<p> +"What dogs and gluttons these Romans are! They have +no real taste for art, for beauty. They cannot even conduct a +murder, save in a bungling way. They have to call in us +Hellenes to help them. Ha! ha! this is the vengeance for +Hellas, for the sack and razing of Corinth and all the other +atrocities! Rome can conquer with the sword; but we Greeks, +though conquered, can, unarmed, conquer Rome. How these +Italians can waste their money! Villas, statues, pretty slaves, +costly vases, and tables of mottled cypress,<a name="r29" href="#fn29">[29]</a> oysters worth +their weight in gold, and I know not what else! And I, poor +Pratinas, the Greek, who lives in an upper floor of a Subura +house at only two thousand sesterces rental, find in these +noble Roman lords only so much plunder. Ha! ha! Hellas, +thou art avenged!" +</p> + +<p> +And gathering his mantle about him, he went down the +several flights of very rickety stairs, and found himself in the +buzzing street. +</p> + + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p> +The Romans hugged a fond belief that houses shut out from +sunlight and air were extremely healthy. If such were the +fact, there should have been no sickness in a great part of the +capital. The street in which Pratinas found himself was so +dark, that he was fain to wait till his eyes accommodated +themselves to the change. The street was no wider than an +alley, yet packed with booths and hucksters,—sellers of +boiled peas and hot sausage, and fifty other wares. On the +worthy Hellene pressed, while rough German slaves or swarthy +Africans jostled against him; the din of scholars declaiming +in an adjoining school deafened him; a hundred unhappy +odors made him wince. Then, as he fought his way, the +streets grew a trifle wider; as he approached the Forum the +shops became more pretentious; at last he reached his destination +in the aristocratic quarter of the Palatine, and paused +before a new and ostentatious mansion, in whose vestibule was +swarming a great bevy of clients, all come in the official calling +costume—a ponderous toga—to pay their respects to the +great man. But as the inner door was pushed aside by the +vigilant keeper, all the rest of the crowd were kept out till +Pratinas could pass within. +</p> + +<p> +The atrium of the house was a splendid sight, with its +veined marble pillars, mosaic floor, bubbling fountain, choice +frescoes, and expensive furniture upholstered in Tyrian purple. +A little in the rear of this gorgeous room was seated in a high +armchair the individual who boasted himself the lord of this +establishment, Lucius Atilius Calatinus. He was a large, +coarse man, with a rough, bull-dog face and straight red hair. +He had been drinking heavily the night before, and his small +bluish eyes had wide dark circles beneath them, and his +breath showed strongly the garlic with which he had seasoned +the bread and grapes of his early lunch. He was evidently +very glad to see his Greek visitor, and drove the six large, +heavily gemmed rings which he wore on one of his fat fingers, +almost into the other's hand when he shook it. +</p> + +<p> +"Well met, Pratinas!" was his salutation. "Tell me, is that +little affair of yours settled? Have you stopped the mouth +of that beastly fellow, Postumus Pyrgensis, who said that I was +a base upstart, with no claim to my gentile name, and a bad +record as a tax farmer in Spain, and therefore should not be +elected tribune<a name="r30" href="#fn30">[30]</a>?" +</p> + +<p> +"I have stopped him," said Pratinas, with a little cough. +"But it was expensive. He stuck out for ten thousand sesterces." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, cheaply off," said Calatinus, laughing. "I will give you +my cheque on Flaccus the banker. But I want to know about +the other matter. Can you make sure of the votes of the Suburana +tribe? Have you seen Autronius?" +</p> + +<p> +"I have seen him," said Pratinas, dryly. +</p> + +<p> +"And he said?" +</p> + +<p> +"Twenty thousand sesterces for him to deposit with trustees<a name="r31" href="#fn31">[31]</a> +until the election is over. Then he as go-between<a name="r32" href="#fn32">[32]</a> will make +sure of a majority of the tribesmen, and distribute to them the +money if all goes well at the <i>comitia</i>.<a name="r33" href="#fn33">[33]</a> It was the best bargain +I could make; for Autronius really controls the tribe, and some +one might outbid us." +</p> + +<p> +"All right," broke out Calatinus with a laugh, "another +cheque on Flaccus." +</p> + +<p> +"One thing else," said Pratinas; "I must have a little money +to shut up any complaints that those ridiculous anti-bribery +Licinian and Pompeian Laws are being broken. Then there is +my fee." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, yes," replied the other, not to be daunted in his good +humour, "I'll give you fifty thousand in all. Now I must see +this rabble." +</p> + +<p> +And the mob of clients swept up to the armchair, grasping +after the great man's hand, and raining on him their <i>aves</i>, +while some daring mortals tried to thrust in a kiss. +</p> + +<p> +Pratinas drew back and watched the crowd with a smile half +cynical, half amused. Some of the visitors were regular hangers-on, +who perhaps expected an invitation to dine; some were +seekers of patronage; some had an eye to political preferment, +a few were real acquaintances of Calatinus or came on some +legitimate business. Pratinas observed three friends waiting +to speak with Calatinus, and was soon in conversation. +</p> + +<p> +The first of the trio was known as Publius Gabinius, who was +by far the oldest. Coarse-featured, with broken complexion, +it needed but a glance to proclaim him as gifted with no other +distinctions than those of a hard drinker, fast liver, and the +owner of an attenuated conscience. Servius Flaccus, the second, +was of a different type. He was languid; spirited only when +he railed at a slave who brushed against his immaculate toga. +The frills on his robes made him almost feminine; and he +spoke, even in invective, in a soft, lisping voice. Around him +floated the aroma of countless rare unguents, that made his +coming known afar off. His only aim in life was evidently to +get through it with as little exertion of brain or muscle as was +possible. The third friend was unlike the others. Lucius Domitius +Ahenobarbus clearly amounted to more than either of his +companions. A constant worship of three very popular gods of +the day—Women, Wine, and Gaming—with the other excitements +of a dissipated life, had ruined a fine fair complexion. +As it was, he had the profile of a handsome, affable man; only +the mouth was hard and sensual, and his skin was faded and +broken. He wore a little brown beard carefully trimmed around +his well-oiled chin after the manner of Roman men of fashion; +and his dark hair was crimped in regular steps or gradations, +parting in the middle and arranged on both sides like a +girl's.<a name="r34" href="#fn34">[34]</a> +</p> + +<p> +"Good morning, Pratinas!" said Lucius, warmly, taking the +Greek's hand. "How glad we are to find you here. I wanted +to ask you around to Marcus Læca's to-night; we think he +will give something of a feast, and you must see my latest +sweetheart—Clyte! She is a little pearl. I have had her +head cut in intaglio on this onyx; is she not pretty?" +</p> + +<p> +"Very pretty," said Pratinas, looking at the engraving on +the ring. "But perhaps it is not right for me, a grave philosopher, +to go to your banquet." +</p> + +<p> +"How (h)absurd! (H)of c(h)ourse you c(h)an!" lisped +Flaccus, who affected Greek so far as to aspirate every word +beginning with a vowel, and to change every <i>c</i> into a <i>ch</i>. +</p> + +<p> +"Well," said Pratinas, laughing, for he was a dearly loved +favourite of all these gilded youth, "I will see! And now +Gabinius is inviting Calatinus also, and we are dispersing for +the morning." +</p> + +<p> +"Alas," groaned Ahenobarbus, "I must go to the Forum +to plead with that wretch Phormio, the broker, to arrange a +new loan." +</p> + +<p> +"And I to the Forum, also," added Calatinus, coming up, +"to continue this pest of a canvass for votes." +</p> + +<p> +The clients fell into line behind Calatinus like a file of +soldiers, but before Pratinas could start away with the other +friends, a slave-boy came running out from the inner house, +to say that "the Lady Valeria would be glad of his company +in her boudoir." The Greek bowed his farewells, then followed +the boy back through the court of the peristylium.<a name="r35" href="#fn35">[35]</a> +</p> + + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p> +The dressing room occupied by Valeria—once wife of +Sextus Drusus and now living with Calatinus as her third +husband in about four years—was fitted up with every luxury +which money, and a taste which carried refinement to +an extreme point, could accomplish. The walls were bright +with splendid mythological scenes by really good artists; the +furniture itself was plated with silver; the rugs were magnificent. +The mistress of this palatial abode was sitting in a +low easy-chair, holding before her a fairly large silver mirror. +She wore a loose gown of silken texture, edged to an ostentatious +extent with purple. Around her hovered Arsinoë and +Semiramis, two handsome Greek slave-girls, who were far +better looking than their owner, inasmuch as their complexions +had never been ruined by paints and ointments. +They were expert hairdressers, and Valeria had paid twenty-five +thousand sesterces for each of them, on the strength of +their proficiency in that art, and because they were said to +speak with a pure Attic Greek accent. At the moment they +were busy stripping off from the lady's face a thick layer of +dried enamel that had been put on the night before. +</p> + +<p> +Had Valeria been willing, she might have feared no comparison +with her maids; for from a merely sensuous standpoint, +she would have been reckoned very beautiful. She had by +nature large brown eyes, luxuriant brown hair, and what had +been a clear brunette skin, and well-rounded and regular +features. But her lips were curled in hard, haughty lines, her +long eyelashes drooped as though she took little interest in +life; and, worse than all, to satisfy the demands of fashion, +she had bleached her hair to a German blonde, by a process +ineffective and injurious. The lady was just fuming to herself +over a gray hair Arsinoë had discovered, and Arsinoë +went around in evident fear lest Valeria should vent her +vexation on her innocent ministers. +</p> + +<p> +Over in one corner of the room, on a low divan, was sitting +a strange-looking personage. A gaunt, elderly man clothed in +a very dingy Greek himation, with shaggy grey hair, and an +enormous beard that tumbled far down his breast. This +personage was Pisander, Valeria's "house-philosopher," who +was expected to be always at her elbow pouring into her ears +a rain of learned lore. For this worthy lady (and two thousand +years later would she not be attending lectures on Dante +or Browning?) was devoted to philosophy, and loved to hear +the Stoics<a name="r36" href="#fn36">[36]</a> and Epicureans expound their varying systems of +the cosmos. At this moment she was feasting her soul on +Plato. Pisander was reading from the "Phaidros," "They +might have seen beauty shining in brightness, when the happy +band, following in the train of Zeus (as we philosophers did; +or with the other gods, as others did), saw a vision, and were +initiated into most blessed mysteries, which we celebrated in +our state of innocence; and having no feeling of evils yet to +come; beholding apparitions, innocent and simple and calm +and happy as in a mystery; shining in pure light; pure ourselves, +and not yet enchained in that living tomb which we +carry about, now that we are imprisoned in the body ..." +</p> + +<p> +"Pratinas, to see her ladyship!" bawled a servant-boy<a name="r37" href="#fn37">[37]</a> +at the doorway, very unceremoniously interrupting the good +man and his learnedly sublime lore. And Pratinas, with +the softest and sweetest of his Greek smiles, entered the +room. +</p> + +<p> +"Your ladyship does me the honour," he began, with an +extremely deferential salutation. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, my dear Pratinas," cried Valeria, in a language she +called Greek, seizing his hand and almost embracing him, +"how delighted I am to see you! We haven't met since—since +yesterday morning. I did so want to have a good talk +with you about Plato's theory of the separate existence of +ideas. But first I must ask you, have you heard whether the +report is true that Terentia, Caius Glabrio's wife, has run off +with a gladiator?" +</p> + +<p> +"So Gabinius, I believe," replied Pratinas, "just told me. +And I heard something else. A great secret. You must not +tell." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! I am dying to know," smirked Valeria. +</p> + +<p> +"Well," said the Greek, confidentially, "Publius Silanus has +divorced his wife, Crispia. 'She went too much,' he says, +'with young Purpureo.'" +</p> + +<p> +"You do not say so!" exclaimed the lady. "I always +knew that would happen! Now tell me, don't you think this +perfume of iris is delicate? It's in that little glass scent +bottle; break the neck.<a name="r38" href="#fn38">[38]</a> I shall use it in a minute. I have +just had some bottles sent up from Capua. Roman perfumes +are so vulgar!" +</p> + +<p> +"I fear," said Pratinas, doing as bidden, and testing the +essence with evident satisfaction, "that I have interrupted +your philosophical studies." And he glanced at Pisander, +who was sitting lonesome and offended in his corner. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! not in the least," ran on Valeria; "but though I +know you are Epicurean, surely you enjoy Plato?" +</p> + +<p> +"Certainly," said Pratinas, with dramatic dignity, "I suck +the sweets from the flowers left us by all the wise and good. +Epicurean though I am, your ladyship must permit me to +lend you a copy of an essay I have with me, by that great +philosopher, the Stoic Chrysippos,<a name="r39" href="#fn39">[39]</a> although I cannot agree +with all his teachings; and this copy of Panaitios, the +Eclectic's great <i>Treatise on Duty</i>, which cannot fail to edify +your ladyship." And he held out the two rolls. +</p> + +<p> +"A thousand thanks," said Valeria, languidly, "hand them +to Pisander. I will have him read them. A little more +white lead, Arsinoë, I am too tanned; make me paler. Just +run over the veins of my temples with a touch of blue paint. +Now a tint of antimony on my eyelids." +</p> + +<p> +"Your ladyship seems in wonderfully good spirits this +morning," insinuated Pratinas. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," said Valeria, with a sigh, "I endure the woes of +life as should one who is consoled by philosophy." +</p> + +<p> +"Shall I continue the Plato?" edged in poor Pisander, +who was raging inwardly to think that Pratinas should dare +to assume the name of a "lover of learning." +</p> + +<p> +"When you are needed, I can tell you," snapped Valeria, +sharply, at the feeble remonstrance. "Now, Semiramis, you +may arrange my hair." +</p> + +<p> +The girl looked puzzled. To tell the truth, Valeria was speaking +in a tongue that was a babel of Greek and Latin, although +she fondly imagined it to be the former, and Semiramis could +hardly understand her. +</p> + +<p> +"If your ladyship will speak in Latin," faltered the maid. +</p> + +<p> +"Speak in Latin! Speak in Latin!" flared up Valeria. "Am +I deceived? Are you not Greeks? Are you some ignorant Italian +wenches who can't speak anything but their native jargon? +Bah! You've misplaced a curl. Take that!" And she struck +the girl across the palms, with the flat of her silver mirror. +Semiramis shivered and flushed, but said nothing. +</p> + +<p> +"Do I not have a perfect Greek pronunciation?" said the +lady, turning to Pratinas. "It is impossible to carry on a polite +conversation in Latin." +</p> + +<p> +"I can assure your ladyship," said the Hellene, with still +another bland smile, "that your pronunciation is something +exceedingly remarkable." +</p> + +<p> +Valeria was pacified, and lay back submitting to her +hairdressers<a name="r40" href="#fn40">[40]</a>, while Pratinas, who knew what kind of +"philosophy" appealed most to his fair patroness, read with +a delicate yet altogether admirable voice, a number of scraps +of erotic verse that he said friends had just sent on from +Alexandria. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! the shame to call himself a philosopher," groaned the +neglected Pisander to himself. "If I believed in the old gods, I +would invoke the Furies upon him." +</p> + +<p> +But Valeria was now in the best of spirits. "By the two +Goddesses,"<a name="r41" href="#fn41">[41]</a> she swore, "what charming sentiments you +Greeks can express. Now I think I look presentable, and can +go around and see Papiria, and learn about that dreadful +Silanus affair. Tell Agias to bring in the cinnamon ointment. +I will try that for a change. It is in the murrhine<a name="r42" href="#fn42">[42]</a> vase in the +other room." +</p> + +<p> +Iasus the serving-boy stepped into the next apartment, and +gave the order to one of his fellow slaves. A minute later +there was a crash. Arsinoë, who was without, screamed, and +Semiramis, who thrust her head out the door, drew it back with +a look of dismay. +</p> + +<p> +"What has happened?" cried Valeria, startled and angry. +</p> + +<p> +Into the room came Arsinoë, Iasus, and a second slave-boy, a +well-favoured, intelligent looking young Greek of about seventeen. +His ruddy cheeks had turned very pale, as had those of +Iasus. +</p> + +<p> +"What has happened?" thundered Valeria, in a tone that +showed that a sorry scene was impending. +</p> + +<p> +The slaves fell on their knees; cowered, in fact, on the rugs +at the lady's feet. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>A! A! A!</i> Lady! Mercy!" they all began in a breath. +"The murrhina vase! It is broken!" +</p> + +<p> +"Who broke it?" cried their mistress, casting lightning +glances from one to another. +</p> + +<p> +Now the truth had been, that while Agias was coming through +a door covered with a curtain, carrying the vase, Iasus had carelessly +blundered against him and caused the catastrophe. But +there had been no other witnesses to the accident; and when +Iasus saw that his mistress's anger would promptly descend on +somebody, he had not the moral courage to take the consequences +of his carelessness. What amounted to a frightful +crime was committed in an instant. +</p> + +<p> +"Agias stumbled and dropped the vase," said Iasus, telling +the truth, but not the whole truth. +</p> + +<p> +"Send for Alfidius the <i>lorarius</i>,"<a name="r43" href="#fn43">[43]</a> raged Valeria, who, with the +promptness that characterizes a certain class of women, jumped +at a conclusion and remained henceforth obstinate. "This +shall not happen again! Oh! my vase! my vase! I shall never +get another one like it! It was one of the spoils of Mithridates, +and"—here her eye fell on Agias, cringing and protesting his +innocence in a fearful agony. +</p> + +<p> +"Stand up, boy! Stop whining! Of course you broke the +vase. Who else had it? I will make you a lesson to all the +slaves in my house. They need one badly. I will get another +serving-boy who will be more careful." +</p> + +<p> +Agias was deathly pale; the beads of sweat stood out on his +forehead; he grasped convulsively at the hem of his mistress's +robe, and murmured wildly of "mercy! mercy!" Pratinas +stood back with his imperturbable smile on his face; and if he +felt the least pity for his fellow-countryman, he did not show it. +</p> + +<p> +"Alfidius awaits the mistress," announced Semiramis, with +trembling lips. +</p> + +<p> +Into the room came a brutish, hard-featured, shock-headed +man, with a large scar, caused by branding, on his forehead. +He carried a short rope and scourge,<a name="r44" href="#fn44">[44]</a>—a whip with a short +handle to which were attached three long lashes, set at intervals +with heavy bits of bronze. He cast one glance over the +little group in the room, and his dull piglike eyes seemed to +light up with a fierce glee, as he comprehended the situation. +</p> + +<p> +"What does your ladyship wish?" he growled. +</p> + +<p> +"Take this wretched boy," cried Valeria, spurning Agias +with her foot; "take him away. Make an example of him. +Take him out beyond the Porta Esquilina and whip him to +death. Let me never see him again." +</p> + +<p> +Pisander sprang up in his corner, quivering with righteous +wrath. +</p> + +<p> +"What is this?" he cried. "The lad is not guilty of any +real crime. It would be absurd to punish a horse for an action +like his, and a slave is as good as a horse. What philosopher +could endure to see such an outrage?" +</p> + +<p> +Valeria was too excited to hear him. Pratinas coolly took +the perturbed philosopher round the waist, and by sheer force +seated him in a chair. +</p> + +<p> +"My friend," he said calmly, "you can only lose your place by +interfering; the boy is food for the crows already. Philosophy +should teach you to regard little affairs like this unmoved." +</p> + +<p> +Before Pisander could remonstrate further Alfidius had +caught up Agias as if he had been an infant, and carried him, +while moaning and pleading, out of the room. Iasus was still +trembling. He was not a knave—simply unheroic, and he +knew that he had committed the basest of actions. Semiramis +and Arsinoë were both very pale, but spoke never a word. +Arsinoë looked pityingly after the poor boy, for she had grown +very fond of his bright words and obliging manners. For +some minutes there was, in fact, perfect silence in the boudoir. +</p> + +<p> +Alfidius carried his victim out into the slaves' quarters in +the rear of the house; there he bound his hands and called in +the aid of an assistant to help him execute his mistress's stern +mandate. +</p> + +<p> +Agias had been born for far better things than to be a slave. +His father had been a cultured Alexandrine Greek, a banker, +and had given his young son the beginnings of a good education. +But the rascality of a business partner had sent the +father to the grave bankrupt, the son to the slave-market to +satisfy the creditors. And now Alfidius and his myrmidon +bound their captive to a furca, a wooden yoke passing down +the back of the neck and down each arm. The rude thongs +cut the flesh cruelly, and the wretches laughed to see how the +delicate boy writhed and faltered under the pain and the load. +</p> + +<p> +"Ah, ha! my fine <i>Furcifer</i>,"<a name="r45" href="#fn45">[45]</a> cried Alfidius, when this +work was completed. "How do you find yourself?" +</p> + +<p> +"Do you mock at me, you '<i>three letter man</i>'?" retorted +Agias in grim despair, referring cuttingly to FVR<a name="r46" href="#fn46">[46]</a> branded +on Alfidius's forehead. +</p> + +<p> +"So you sing, my pretty bird," laughed the executioner. +"I think you will croak sorrowfully enough before long. Call +me '<i>man of letters</i>' if you will; to-night the dogs tear that +soft skin of yours, while my hide is sound. Now off for the +Porta Esquilina! Trot along with you!" and he swung his +lash over the wretched boy's shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +Agias was led out into the street. He was too pained and +numbed to groan, resist, or even think and fear. The thongs +might well have been said to press his mind as much as his +skin. +</p> + + + + + +<h2 id="ch3">CHAPTER III</h2> + +<h2>THE PRIVILEGE OF A VESTAL</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p> +Drusus started long before daybreak on his journey to +Rome; with him went Cappadox, his ever faithful body-servant, +and Pausanias, the amiable and cultivated freedman +who had been at his elbow ever since he had visited Athens. +For a while the young master dozed in his carriage; but, as +they whirled over mile after mile of the Campagna, the sun +arose; then, when sleep left him, the Roman was all alive to +the patriotic reminiscences each scene suggested. Yonder to +the far south lay Alba, the old home of the Latins, and a little +southward too was the Lake of Regillus, where tradition had +it the free Romans won their first victory, and founded the +greatness of the Republic. Along the line of the Anio, a few +miles north, had marched Hannibal on his mad dash against +Rome to save the doomed Capua. And these pictures of brave +days, and many another vision like them, welled up in Drusus's +mind, and the remembrance of the marble temples of the +Greek cities faded from his memory; for, as he told himself, +Rome was built of nobler stuff than marble;—she was built +of the deeds of men strong and brave, and masters of every +hostile fate. And he rejoiced that he could be a Roman, and +share in his country's deathless fame, perhaps could win for +her new honour,—could be consul, triumphator, and lead his +applauding legions up to the temple of Capitoline Jove—another +national glory added to so many. +</p> + +<p> +So the vision of the great city of tall ugly tenement houses, +basking on her "Seven Hills," which only on their summits +showed the nobler temples or the dwellings of the great patricians, +broke upon him. And it was with eyes a-sparkle with +enthusiasm, and a light heart, that he reached the Porta +Esquilina, left the carriage for a litter borne by four stout +Syrians sent out from the house of his late uncle, and was +carried soon into the hubbub of the city streets. +</p> + +<p> +Everywhere was the same crowd; shopping parties were +pressing in and out the stores, outrunners and foot-boys were +continually colliding. Drusus's escort could barely win a slow +progress for their master. Once on the Sacred Way the +advance was more rapid; although even this famous street +was barely twenty-two feet wide from house wall to house wall. +Here was the "Lombard" or "Wall Street" of antiquity. +Here were the offices of the great banking houses and syndicates +that held the world in fee. Here centred those busy +equites, the capitalists, whose transactions ran out even beyond +the lands covered by the eagles, so that while Gaul was yet +unconquered, Cicero could boast, "not a sesterce in Gaul +changes hands without being entered in a Roman ledger." +And here were brokers whose clients were kings, and who +by their "influence" almost made peace or war, like modern +Rothschilds. +</p> + +<p> +Thither Drusus's litter carried him, for he knew that his +first act on coming to Rome to take possession of his uncle's +property should be to consult without delay his agent and +financial and legal adviser, lest any loophole be left for a +disappointed fortune-hunter to contest the will. The bearers +put him down before the important firm of Flaccus and Sophus. +Out from the open, windowless office ran the senior partner, +Sextus Fulvius Flaccus, a stout, comfortable, rosy-faced old +eques, who had half Rome as his financial clients, the other +half in his debt. Many were his congratulations upon Drusus's +manly growth, and many more upon the windfall of Vibulanus's +fortune, which, as he declared, was too securely conveyed +to the young man to be open to any legal attack. +</p> + +<p> +But when Drusus intimated that he expected soon to invite +the good man to his marriage feast, Flaccus shook his +head. +</p> + +<p> +"You will never get a sesterce of Cornelia's dowry," he +declared. "Her uncle Lentulus Crus is head over ears in debt. +Nothing can save him, unless—" +</p> + +<p> +"I don't understand you," said the other. +</p> + +<p> +"Well," continued Flaccus, "to be frank; unless there is +nothing short of a revolution." +</p> + +<p> +"Will it come to that?" demanded Drusus. +</p> + +<p> +"Can't say," replied Flaccus, as if himself perplexed. +"Everybody declares Cæsar and Pompeius are dreadfully +alienated. Pompeius is joining the Senate. Half the great +men of Rome are in debt, as I have cause to know, and unless +we have an overturn, with 'clean accounts' as a result, more +than one noble lord is ruined. I am calling in all my loans, +turning everything into cash. Credit is bad—bad. Cæsar +paid Curio's debts—sixty millions of sesterces.<a name="r47" href="#fn47">[47]</a> That's why +Curio is a Cæsarian now. Oh! money is the cause of all +these vile political changes! Trouble is coming! Sulla's old +throat cuttings will be nothing to it! But don't marry Lentulus's +niece!" +</p> + +<p> +"Well," said Drusus, when the business was done, and he +turned to go, "I want Cornelia, not her dowry." +</p> + +<p> +"Strange fellow," muttered Flaccus, while Drusus started +off in his litter. "I always consider the dowry the principal +part of a marriage." +</p> + + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p> +Drusus regained his litter, and ordered his bearers to take +him to the house of the Vestals,—back of the Temple of +Vesta,—where he wished to see his aunt Fabia and Livia, +his little half-sister. The Temple itself—a small, round +structure, with columns, a conical roof which was fringed +about with dragons and surmounted by a statue—still +showed signs of the fire, which, in 210 B.C., would have +destroyed it but for thirteen slaves, who won their liberty +by checking the blaze. Tradition had it that here the holy +Numa had built the hut which contained the hearth-fire of +Rome,—the divine spark which now shed its radiance over +the nations. Back of the Temple was the House of the Vestals, +a structure with a plain exterior, differing little from the +ordinary private dwellings. Here Drusus had his litter set +down for a second time, and notified the porter that he would +be glad to see his aunt and sister. The young man was +ushered into a spacious, handsomely furnished and decorated +atrium, where were arranged lines of statues of the various +<i>maximæ</i><a name="r48" href="#fn48">[48]</a> of the little religious order. A shy young girl with +a white dress and fillet, who was reading in the apartment, +slipped noiselessly out, as the young man entered; for the +novices were kept under strict control, with few liberties, until +their elder sisters could trust them in male society. Then +there was a rustle of robes and ribbons, and in came a tall, +stately lady, also in pure white, and a little girl of about five, +who shrank coyly back when Drusus called her his "Liviola"<a name="r49" href="#fn49">[49]</a> +and tried to catch her in his arms. But the lady embraced +him, and kissed him, and asked a thousand things about him, +as tenderly as if she had been his mother. +</p> + +<p> +Fabia the Vestal was now about thirty-seven years of age. +One and thirty years before had the Pontifex Maximus chosen +her out—a little girl—to become the priestess of Vesta, the +hearth-goddess, the home-goddess of Pagan Rome. Fabia had +dwelt almost all her life in the house of the Vestals. Her very +existence had become identified with the little sisterhood, which +she and her five associates composed. It was a rather isolated +yet singularly pure and peaceful life which she had led. Revolutions +might rock the city and Empire; Marians and Sullians +contend; Catilina plot ruin and destruction; Clodius and his +ruffians terrorize the streets; but the fire of the great hearth-goddess +was never scattered, nor were its gentle ministers +molested. Fabia had thus grown to mature womanhood. Ten +years she had spent in learning the Temple ritual, ten years in +performing the actual duties of the sacred fire and its cultus, +ten years in teaching the young novices. And now she was +free, if she chose, to leave the Temple service, and even to +marry. But Fabia had no intention of taking a step which +would tear her from the circle in which she was dearly loved, +and which, though permitted by law, would be publicly deplored +as an evil omen. +</p> + +<p> +The Vestal's pure simple life had left its impress on her +features. Peace and innocent delight in innocent things shone +through her dark eyes and soft, well-rounded face. Her light +brown hair was covered and confined by a fillet of white wool.<a name="r50" href="#fn50">[50]</a> +She wore a stola and outer garment of stainless white linen—the +perfectly plain badge of her chaste and holy office; while +on her small feet were dainty sandals, bound on by thongs of +whitened leather. Everything about her dress and features +betokened the priestess of a gentle religion. +</p> + +<p> +When questions and repeated salutations were over, and +Livia had ceased to be too afraid of her quite strange brother, +Fabia asked what she could do for her nephew. As one of the +senior Vestals, her time was quite her own. "Would he like +to have her go out with him to visit friends, or go shopping? +Or could she do anything to aid him about ordering frescoers +and carpenters for the old Præneste villa?" +</p> + +<p> +This last was precisely what Drusus had had in mind. And +so forth aunt and nephew sallied. Some of the streets they +visited were so narrow that they had to send back even their +litters; but everywhere the crowds bowed such deference and +respect to the Vestal's white robes that their progress was +easy. Drusus soon had given his orders to cabinet-makers and +selected the frescoer's designs. It remained to purchase Cornelia's +slave-boy. He wanted not merely an attractive serving-lad, +but one whose intelligence and probity could be relied +upon; and in the dealers' stalls not one of the dark orientals, +although all had around their necks tablets with long lists of +encomiums, promised conscience or character. Drusus visited, +several very choice boys that were exhibited in separate rooms, +at fancy prices, but none of these pretty Greeks or Asiatics +seemed promising. +</p> + +<p> +Deeply disgusted, he led Fabia away from the slave-market. +</p> + +<p> +"I will try to-morrow," he said, vexed at his defeat. "I +need a new toga. Let us go to the shop on the Clivus Suburanus; +there used to be a good woollen merchant, Lucius Marius, +on the way to the Porta Esquilina." +</p> + +<p> +Accordingly the two went on in the direction indicated; but +at the spot where the Clivus Suburanus was cut by the Vicus +Longus, there was so dense a crowd and so loud a hubbub, that +their attendants could not clear a way. For a time it was impossible +to see what was the matter. Street gamins were +howling, and idle slaves and hucksters were pouring forth volleys +of taunts and derision at some luckless wight. +</p> + +<p> +"Away with them! the whip-scoundrel! <i>Verbero!</i>"<a name="r51" href="#fn51">[51]</a> yelled +a lusty produce-vender. "Lash him again! Tan his hide for +him! Don't you enjoy it? Not accustomed to such rough +handling, eh! my pretty sparrow?" +</p> + +<p> +Fabia without the least hesitation thrust herself into the +dirty-robed, foul-mouthed crowd. At sight of the Vestal's white +dress and fillets the pack gave way before her, as a swarm of +gnats at the wave of a hand. Drusus strode at her heels. +</p> + +<p> +It was a sorry enough sight that met them—though not +uncommon in the age and place. Some wretched slave-boy, a +slight, delicate fellow, had been bound to the bars of a furca, +and was being driven by two brutal executioners to the place +of doom outside the gates. At the street-crossing he had sunk +down, and all the blows of the driver's scourge could not compel +him to arise. He lay in the dust, writhing and moaning, +with the great welts showing on his bare back, where the brass +knots of the lash had stripped away the cloth. +</p> + +<p> +"Release this boy! Cease to beat him!" cried Fabia, with +a commanding mien, that made the crowd shrink further back; +while the two executioners looked stupid and sheepish, but +did nothing. +</p> + +<p> +"Release this boy!" commanded the Vestal. "Dare you +hesitate? Do you wish to undo yourselves by defying me?" +</p> + +<p> +"Mercy, august lady," cried Alfidius,—for the chief executioner +was he,—with a supplicatory gesture. "If our mistress +knows that her commands are unexecuted, it is we, who +are but slaves, that must suffer!" +</p> + +<p> +"Who is your mistress?" demanded Fabia. +</p> + +<p> +"Valeria, wife of Lucius Calatinus." +</p> + +<p> +"Livia's precious mother!" whispered Drusus. "I can +imagine her doing a thing like this." Then aloud, "What +has the boy done?" +</p> + +<p> +"He dropped a murrhine vase," was the answer. +</p> + +<p> +"And so he must be beaten to death!" exclaimed the young +man, who, despite the general theory that most slaves were on +a par with cattle, had much of the milk of human kindness in +his nature. "<i>Phui!</i> What brutality! You must insist on +your rights, aunt. Make them let him go." +</p> + +<p> +Sulkily enough the executioners unbound the heavy furca. +Agias staggered to his feet, too dazed really to know what +deliverance had befallen him. +</p> + +<p> +"Why don't you thank the Vestal?" said Alfidius. "She +has made us release you—you ungrateful dog!" +</p> + +<p> +"Released? Saved?" gasped Agias, and he reeled as +though his head were in a whirl. Then, as if recollecting +his faculties, he fell down at Fabia's feet, and kissed the hem +of her robe. +</p> + +<p> +"The gods save us all now," muttered Alfidius. "Valeria +will swear that we schemed to have the boy released. We +shall never dare to face her again!" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! do not send me back to that cruel woman!" moaned +Agias. "Better die now, than go back to her and incur her +anger again! Kill me, but do not send me back!" +</p> + +<p> +And he broke down again in inward agony. +</p> + +<p> +Drusus had been surveying the boy, and saw that though +he was now in a pitiable enough state, he had been good-looking; +and that though his back had been cruelly marred, his +face had not been cut with the lashes. Perhaps the very fact +that Agias had been the victim of Valeria, and the high contempt +in which the young Drusian held his divorced stepmother, +made him instinctively take the outraged boy's part. +</p> + +<p> +"See here," began Drusus, "were you to be whipped by +orders of Calatinus?" +</p> + +<p> +"No," moaned Agias; "Valeria gave the orders. My master +was out." +</p> + +<p> +"Ha!" remarked Drusus to his aunt, "won't the good man +be pleased to know how his wife has killed a valuable slave in +one of her tantrums?" Then aloud. "If I can buy you of +Calatinus, and give you to the Lady Cornelia, niece of Lentulus, +the consul-elect, will you serve her faithfully, will you +make her wish the law of your life?" +</p> + +<p> +"I will die for her!" cried Agias, his despair mingled with +a ray of hope. +</p> + +<p> +"Where is your master?" +</p> + +<p> +"At the Forum, I think, soliciting votes," replied the boy. +</p> + +<p> +"Well then, follow me," said Drusus, "our road leads back +to the Forum. We may meet him. If I can arrange with +him, your executioners have nothing to fear from Valeria. +Come along." +</p> + +<p> +Agias followed, with his head again in a whirl. +</p> + + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p> +The little company worked its way back to the Forum, not, +as now, a half-excavated ruin, the gazing-stock for excursionists, +a commonplace whereby to sum up departed greatness: +the splendid buildings of the Empire had not yet arisen, but +the structures of the age were not unimposing. Here, in plain +view, was the Capitoline Hill, crowned by the Temple of +Jupiter Capitolinus and the Arx. Here was the site of the +Senate House, the Curia (then burned), in which the men who +had made Rome mistress of the world had taken counsel. +Every stone, every basilica, had its history for Drusus—though, +be it said, at the moment the noble past was little in his mind. +And the historic enclosure was all swarming, beyond other +places, with the dirty, bustling crowd, shoppers, hucksters, +idlers. Drusus and his company searched for Calatinus along +the upper side of the Forum, past the Rostra, the Comitium,<a name="r52" href="#fn52">[52]</a> +and the Temple of Saturn. Then they were almost caught in +the dense throng that was pouring into the plaza from the busy +commercial thoroughfares of the Vicus Jugarius, or the Vicus +Tuscus. But just as the party had almost completed their circuit +of the square, and Drusus was beginning to believe that +his benevolent intentions were leading him on a bootless +errand, a man in a conspicuously white toga rushed out upon +him from the steps of the Temple of Castor, embraced him +violently, and imprinted a firm, garlic-flavoured kiss on both +cheeks; crying at the same time heartily:— +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, my dear Publius Dorso, I am so glad to meet you! +How are all your affairs up in Fidenæ?" +</p> + +<p> +Drusus recoiled in some disgust, and began rubbing his outraged +cheeks. +</p> + +<p> +"Dorso? Dorso? There is surely some mistake, my good +man. I am known as Quintus Drusus of Præneste." +</p> + +<p> +Before he had gotten further, his assailant was pounding +and shaking a frightened-looking slave-lad who had stood at +his elbow. +</p> + +<p> +"The gods blast you, you worthless <i>nomenclator</i>!<a name="r53" href="#fn53">[53]</a> You +have forgotten the worthy gentleman's name, and have made +me play the fool! You may have lost me votes! All Rome +will hear of this! I shall be a common laughing-stock! <i>Hei! +vah!</i> But I'll teach you to behave!" And he shook the +wretched boy until the latter's teeth rattled. +</p> + +<p> +At this instant a young man of faultless toilet, whom we +have already recognized as Lucius Ahenobarbus, pushed into +the little knot as a peacemaker. +</p> + +<p> +"Most excellent Calatinus," said he, half suppressing his +laughter at the candidate's fury, the nomenclator's anguish, +and Drusus's vexed confusion, "allow me to introduce to you +a son of Sextus Drusus, who was an old friend of my father's. +This is Quintus Drusus, if in a few years I have not forgotten +his face; and this, my dear Quintus, is my good friend Lucius +Calatinus, who would be glad of your vote and influence to +help on his candidacy as tribune." +</p> + +<p> +The atmosphere was cleared instantly. Calatinus forgot his +anger, in order to apologize in the most obsequious manner for +his headlong salutation. Drusus, pleased to find the man he +had been seeking, forgave the vile scent of the garlic, and graciously +accepted the explanation. Then the way was open to +ask Calatinus whether he was willing to dispose of Agias. The +crestfallen candidate was only too happy to do something to +put himself right with the person he had offended. Loudly he +cursed his wife's temper, that would have wasted a slave +worth a "hundred thousand sesterces" to gratify a mere +burst of passion. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, he was willing to sell the boy to accommodate his +excellency, Quintus Drusus," said Calatinus, "although he +was a valuable slave. Still, in honesty he had to admit that +Agias had some mischievous points. Calatinus had boxed his +ears only the day before for licking the pastry. But, since his +wife disliked the fellow, he would be constrained to sell him, +if a purchaser would take him." +</p> + +<p> +The result of the conference was that Drusus, who had +inherited that keen eye for business which went with most of +his race, purchased Agias for thirty thousand sesterces, considerably +less than the boy would have brought in the market. +</p> + +<p> +While Drusus was handing over a money order payable with +Flaccus, Lucius Ahenobarbus again came forward, with all +seeming friendliness. +</p> + +<p> +"My dear Quintus," said he, "Marcus Læca has commissioned +me to find a ninth guest to fill his <i>triclinium</i><a name="r54" href="#fn54">[54]</a> this evening. +We should be delighted if you would join us. I don't +know what the good Marcus will offer us to-night, but you can +be sure of a slice of peacock<a name="r55" href="#fn55">[55]</a> and a few other nice bits." +</p> + +<p> +"I am very grateful," replied Drusus, who felt all the while +that Lucius Ahenobarbus was the last man in the world with +whom he cared to spend an evening's carousing; "but," and +here he concocted a white lie, "an old friend I met in Athens +has already invited me to spend the night, and I cannot well +refuse him. I thank you for your invitation." +</p> + +<p> +Lucius muttered some polite and conventional terms of +regret, and fell back to join Servius Flaccus and Gabinius, +who were near him. +</p> + +<p> +"I invited him and he refused," he said half scornfully, +half bitterly. "That little minx, Cornelia, has been complaining +of me to him, I am sure. The gods ruin him! If +he wishes to become my enemy, he'll have good cause to fear +my bite." +</p> + +<p> +"You say he's from Præneste," said Gabinius, "and yet +can he speak decent Latin? Doesn't he say '<i>conia</i>' for '<i>ciconia</i>,' +and '<i>tammodo</i>' for '<i>tantummodo</i>'<i>?</i> I wonder you invite +such a boor." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! he can speak good enough Latin," said Lucius. +"But I invited him because he is rich; and it might be worth +our while to make him gamble." +</p> + +<p> +"Rich!" lisped Servius Flaccus. "Rich (h)as my (h)uncle +the broker? That silly straightlac(h)ed fellow, who's (h)a +C(h)ato, (h)or worse? For shame!" +</p> + +<p> +"Well," said Lucius, "old Crassus used to say that no one +who couldn't pay out of his own purse for an army was rich. +But though Drusus cannot do quite that, he has enough +sesterces to make happy men of most of us, if his fortune were +mine or yours." +</p> + +<p> +"(H)its (h)an (h)outrage for him to have (h)it," cried Servius +Flaccus. +</p> + +<p> +"It's worse than an outrage," replied Ahenobarbus; "it's +a sheer blunder of the Fates. Remind me to tell you about +Drusus and his fortune, before I have drunk too much +to-night." +</p> + + +<hr /> + +<p> +Agias went away rejoicing with his new master. Drusus +owned an apartment house on the Vicus Longus, and there had +a furnished suite of rooms. He gave Agias into the charge of +the porter<a name="r56" href="#fn56">[56]</a> and ordered him to dress the boy's wounds. Cappadox +waited on his master when he lunched. +</p> + +<p> +"Master Quintus," said he, with the familiar air of a privileged +servant, "did you see that knavish-looking Gabinius +following Madame Fabia all the way back to the Temple of +Vesta?" +</p> + +<p> +"No," said Drusus; "what do you mean, you silly fellow?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, nothing," said Cappadox, humbly. "I only thought +it a little queer." +</p> + +<p> +"Perhaps so," said his master, carelessly. +</p> + + + + + +<h2 id="ch4">CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<h2>LUCIUS AHENOBARBUS AIRS HIS GRIEVANCE</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p> +The pomp and gluttony of Roman banquets have been too +often described to need repetition here; neither would we be +edified by learning all the orgies that Marcus Læca (an old +Catilinian conspirator) and his eight guests indulged in that +night: only after the dinner had been cleared, and before the +Gadesian<a name="r57" href="#fn57">[57]</a> dancing girls were called in, the dice began to rattle, +and speedily all were engrossed in drink and play. +</p> + +<p> +Lucius Ahenobarbus soon lost so heavily that he was cursing +every god that presided over the noble game. +</p> + +<p> +"I am ruined next Ides," he groaned. "Phormio the broker +has only continued my loan at four per cent a month. All my +villas and furniture are mortgaged, and will be sold at auction. +<i>Mehercle</i>, destruction stares me in the face!" +</p> + +<p> +"Well, well, my dear fellow," said Pratinas, who, having +won the stakes, was in a mood to be sympathetic, "we must +really see what can be done to remedy matters." +</p> + +<p> +"I can see nothing!" was his answer. +</p> + +<p> +"Won't your father come to the rescue?" put in Gabinius, +between deep pulls on a beaker. +</p> + +<p> +"My father!" snapped Ahenobarbus. "Never a sesterce +will I get out of him! He's as good as turned me adrift, and +Cato my uncle is always giving him bad reports of me, like +the hypocritical Stoic that Cato is." +</p> + +<p> +"By the bye," began Gabinius again, putting down the +wine-cup, "you hinted to-day that you had been cheated out +of a fortune, after a manner. Something about that Drusus of +Præneste, if I recollect. What's the story?" +</p> + +<p> +Lucius settled down on his elbow, readjusted the cushions +on the banqueting couch, and then began, interrupted by many +a hiccough because of his potations. +</p> + +<p> +"It is quite a story, but I won't bore you with details. It +has quite as much to do with Cornelia, Lentulus Crus's pretty +niece, as with Drusus himself. Here it is in short. Sextus +Drusus and Caius Lentulus were such good friends that, as +you know, they betrothed their son and daughter when the latter +were mere children. To make the compact doubly strong, +Sextus Drusus inserted in his will a clause like this: 'Let my +son Quintus enjoy the use of my estate and its income, until +he become twenty-five and cease to be under the care of Flaccus +his <i>tutor</i>.<a name="r58" href="#fn58">[58]</a> If he die before that time, let his property go +to Cornelia, the daughter of Caius Lentulus, except;' and here +Sextus left a small legacy for his own young daughter, Livia. +You see Drusus can make no will until he is five-and-twenty. +But then comes another provision. 'If Cornelia shall marry +any person save my son, my son shall at once be free to dispose +of my estates.' So Cornelia is laid under a sort of obligation +also to marry Quintus. The whole aim of the will is +to make it very hard for the young people to fail to wed as +their fathers wished." +</p> + +<p> +"True," said Gabinius; "but how such an arrangement can +affect you and your affairs, I really cannot understand." +</p> + +<p> +"That is so," continued Ahenobarbus, "but here is the +other side of the matter. Caius Lentulus was a firm friend of +Sextus Drusus; he also was very close and dear to my father. +Caius desired that Cornelia wed young Drusus, and so enjoined +her in his will; but out of compliment to my father, put in a +clause which was something like this: 'If Quintus Drusus die +before he marry Cornelia, or refuse to marry Cornelia at the +proper time, then let Cornelia and all her property be given to +Lucius, the second son of my dearly loved friend, Lucius Domitius +Ahenobarbus,' Now I think you will begin to see why +Quintus Drusus's affairs interest me a little. If he refuse to +marry Cornelia before he be five-and-twenty, she falls to me. +But I understand that Lentulus, her uncle, is badly in debt, and +her dowry won't be much. But if Drusus is not married to her, +and die before he is twenty-five, <i>his property is hers and she is mine.</i> +Do you understand why I have a little grudge against him?" +</p> + +<p> +"For what?" cried Læca, with breathless interest. +</p> + +<p> +"For living!" sighed Ahenobarbus, hopelessly. +</p> + +<p> +The handsome face of Pratinas was a study. His nostrils +dilated; his lips quivered; his eyes were bright and keen +with what evidently passed in his mind for a great discovery. +</p> + +<p> +"Eureka!" cried the Greek, clapping his hands. "My +dear Lucius, let me congratulate you! You are saved!" +</p> + +<p> +"What?" exclaimed the young man, starting up. +</p> + +<p> +"You are saved!" repeated Pratinas, all animation. +"Drusus's sesterces shall be yours! Every one of them!" +</p> + +<p> +Lucius Ahenobarbus was a debauchee, a mere creature of +pleasure, without principle or character; but even he had a +revulsion of spirit at the hardly masked proposal of the enthusiastic +Greek. He flushed in spite of the wine, then turned +pale, then stammered, "Don't mention such a thing, Pratinas. +I was never Drusus's enemy. I dare not dream of such a +move. The Gods forefend!" +</p> + +<p> +"The Gods?" repeated Pratinas, with a cynical intonation. +"Do you believe there are any?" +</p> + +<p> +"Do you?" retorted Lucius, feeling all the time that a +deadly temptation had hold of him, which he could by no +means resist. +</p> + +<p> +"Why?" said the Greek. "Your Latin Ennius states my +view, in some of your rather rough and blundering native +tetrameters. He says:— +</p> + + +<blockquote> +<p> +"'There's a race of gods in heaven; so I've said and still will say.<br /> +But I deem that we poor mortals do not come beneath their sway.<br /> +Otherwise the good would triumph, whereas evil reigns to-day.'"<br /> +</p> +</blockquote> + + +<p> +"And you advise?" said Ahenobarbus, leaning forward with +pent-up excitement. +</p> + +<p> +"I advise?" replied Pratinas; "I am only a poor ignorant +Hellene, and who am I, to give advice to Lucius Domitius Ahenobarbus, +a most noble member of the most noble of nations!" +</p> + +<p> +If Pratinas had said: "My dear Lucius, you are a thick-headed, +old-fashioned, superstitious Roman, whom I, in my +superior wisdom, utterly despise," he would have produced +about the same effect upon young Ahenobarbus. +</p> + +<p> +But Lucius still fluttered vainly,—a very weak conscience +whispering that Drusus had never done him any harm; that +murder was a dangerous game, and that although his past life +had been bad enough, he had never made any one—unless +it were a luckless slave or two—the victim of bloodthirsty +passion or rascality. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't propose it," he groaned. "I don't dare to think of +such a thing! What disgrace and trouble, if it should all +come out!" +</p> + +<p> +"Come, come, Ahenobarbus," thrust in Marcus Læca, who +had been educated in Catilina's school for polite villains and +cut-throats. "Pratinas is only proposing what, if you were a +man of spirit, would have been done long ago. You can't complain +of Fortune, when she's put a handsome estate in your +hands for the asking." +</p> + +<p> +"My admirable fellow," said Pratinas, benevolently, "I +highly applaud your scruples. But, permit me to say it, I +must ask you to defer to me as being a philosopher. Let us +look at the matter in a rational way. We have gotten over +any bogies which our ancestors had about Hades, or the punishments +of the wicked. In fact, what we know—as good +Epicureans—is that, as Democritus of Abdera<a name="r59" href="#fn59">[59]</a> early taught, +this world of ours is composed of a vast number of infinitely +small and indivisible atoms, which have by some strange hap +come to take the forms we see in the world of life and matter. +Now the soul of man is also of atoms, only they are finer and +more subtile. At death these atoms are dissolved, and so far +as that man is concerned, all is over with him. The atoms +may recombine, or join with others, but never form anew that +same man. Hence we may fairly conclude that this life is +everything and death ends all. Do you follow, and see to +what I am leading?" +</p> + +<p> +"I think so," said the wretched Lucius, feeling himself like +a bird caught in a snare, yet not exactly grasping the direct +bearing of all this learned exposition. +</p> + +<p> +"My application is this," went on Pratinas, glibly. "Life is +all—all either for pleasure or pain. Therefore every man +has a right to extract all the sweetness he can out of it. But +suppose a man deliberately makes himself gloomy, extracts no +joy from life; lets himself be overborne by care and sorrow,—is +not such a man better dead than living? Is not a dreamless +sleep preferable to misery or even cold asceticism? And +how much more does this all apply when we see a man who +makes himself unhappy, preventing by his very act of existence +the happiness of another more equably tempered mortal! +Now I believe this is the present case. Drusus, I understand, +is leading a spare, joyless, workaday sort of existence, which +is, or by every human law should be, to him a burden. So +long as he lives, he prevents you from enjoying the means of +acquiring pleasure. Now I have Socrates of imperishable +memory on my side, when I assert that death under any circumstances +is either no loss or a very great gain. Considering +then the facts of the case in its philosophic and rational bearings, +I may say this: Not merely would it be no wrong to +remove Drusus from a world in which he is evidently out of +place, but I even conceive such an act to rise to the rank of a +truly meritorious deed." +</p> + +<p> +Lucius Ahenobarbus was conquered. He could not resist +the inexorable logic of this train of reasoning, all the premises +of which he fully accepted. Perhaps, we should add, he was +not very unwilling to have his wine-befuddled intellect satisfied, +and his conscience stilled. He turned down a huge beaker of +liquor, and coughed forth:— +</p> + +<p> +"Right as usual, Pratinas! By all the gods, but I believe +you can save me!" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes; as soon as Drusus is dead," insinuated the Greek +who was already computing his bill for brokerage in this little +affair, "you can raise plenty of loans, on the strength of your +coming marriage with Cornelia." +</p> + +<p> +"But how will you manage it?" put in the alert Gabinius. +"There mustn't be any clumsy bungling." +</p> + +<p> +"Rest assured," said Pratinas, with a grave dignity, perhaps +the result of his drinking, "that in my affairs I leave no room +for bungling." +</p> + +<p> +"And your plan is—" asked Lucius. +</p> + +<p> +"Till to-morrow, friend," said the Greek; "meet me at the +Temple of Saturn, just before dusk. Then I'll be ready." +</p> + + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p> +Lucius Ahenobarbus's servants escorted their tipsy master +home to his lodgings in a fashionable apartment house on the +Esquiline. When he awoke, it was late the next day, and +head and wits were both sadly the worse for the recent entertainment. +Finally a bath and a luncheon cleared his brain, +and he realized his position. He was on the brink of concocting +a deliberate murder. Drusus had never wronged him; the +crime would be unprovoked; avarice would be its only justification. +Ahenobarbus had done many things which a far laxer code +of ethics than that of to-day would frown upon; but, as said, +he had never committed murder—at least had only had crucified +those luckless slaves, who did not count. He roused with +a start, as from a dream. What if Pratinas were wrong? +What if there were really gods, and furies, and punishments +for the wicked after death? And then came the other side of +the shield: a great fortune his; all his debts paid off; unlimited +chances for self-enjoyment; last, but not least, Cornelia +his. She had slighted him, and turned her back upon all his +advances; and now what perfect revenge! Lucius was more +in love with Cornelia than he admitted even to himself. He +would even give up Clyte, if he could possess her. And so +the mental battle went on all day; and the prick of conscience, +the fears of superstition, and the lingerings of religion ever grew +fainter. Near nightfall he was at his post, at the Temple of +Saturn. Pratinas was awaiting him. The Greek had only a +few words of greeting, and the curt injunction:—"Draw +your cloak up to shield your face, and follow me." +Then they passed out from the Forum, forced their way +through the crowded streets, and soon were through the <i>Porta +Ratumena,</i> outside the walls, and struck out across the Campus +Martius, upon the Via Flaminia. It was rapidly darkening. +The houses grew fewer and fewer. At a little distance the +dim structures of the Portico and Theatre of Pompeius could +be seen, looming up to an exaggerated size in the evening haze. +A grey fog was drifting up from the Tiber, and out of a rift +in a heavy cloud-bank a beam of the imprisoned moon was +struggling. Along the road were peasants with their carts +and asses hastening home. Over on the Pincian Mount the +dark green masses of the splendid gardens of Pompeius and of +Lucullus were just visible. The air was filled with the croak +of frogs and the chirp of crickets, and from the river came the +creak of the sculls and paddles of a cumbrous barge that was +working its way down the Tiber. +</p> + +<p> +Ahenobarbus felt awed and uncomfortable. Pratinas, with +his mantle wrapped tightly around his head, continued at a +rapid pace. Lucius had left his attendants at home, and now +began to recall gruesome tales of highwaymen and bandits +frequenting this region after dark. His fears were not allayed +by noticing that underneath his himation Pratinas +occasionally let the hilt of a short sword peep forth. Still +the Greek kept on, never turning to glance at a filthy, half-clad +beggar, who whined after them for an alms, and who +did not so much as throw a kiss after the young Roman +when the latter tossed forth a denarius,<a name="r60" href="#fn60">[60]</a> but snatched up the +coin, muttered at its being no more, and vanished into the +gathering gloom. +</p> + +<p> +"Where are you leading me?" asked Ahenobarbus, a second +time, after all his efforts to communicate with the usually fluent +Greek met with only monosyllables. +</p> + +<p> +"To the <i>lanista</i><a name="r61" href="#fn61">[61]</a> Dumnorix," replied Pratinas, quickening an +already rapid pace. +</p> + +<p> +"And his barracks are—?" +</p> + +<p> +"By the river, near the Mulvian bridge." +</p> + +<p> +At length a pile of low square buildings was barely visible in +the haze. It was close to the Tiber, and the rush of the water +against the piling of the bridge was distinctly audible. As the +two drew near to a closed gateway, a number of mongrel dogs +began to snap and bark around them. From within the building +came the roar of coarse hilarity and coarser jests. As Pratinas +approached the solidly barred doorway, a grating was +pushed aside and a rude voice demanded:— +</p> + +<p> +"Your business? What are you doing here?" +</p> + +<p> +"Is Dumnorix sober?" replied Pratinas, nothing daunted. +"If so, tell him to come and speak with me. I have something +for his advantage." +</p> + +<p> +Either Pratinas was well known at the gladiators' school, or +something in his speech procured favour. There was a rattling +of chains and bolts, and the door swung open. A man of unusual +height and ponderous proportions appeared in the opening. +That was all which could be seen in the semi-darkness. +</p> + +<p> +"You are Pratinas?" he asked, speaking Latin with a northern +accent. The Hellene nodded, and replied softly: "Yes. No +noise. Tell Dumnorix to come quietly." +</p> + +<p> +The two stepped in on to the flags of a courtyard, and the +doorkeeper, after rebolting, vanished into the building. Ahenobarbus +could only see that he was standing in a large stone-paved +court, perhaps one hundred and forty feet wide and +considerably longer. A colonnade of low whitewashed pillars +ran all about: and behind them stretched rows of small +rooms and a few larger apartments. There were <i>tyros</i> practising +with wooden swords in one of the rooms, whence a light +streamed, and a knot of older gladiators was urging them on, +mocking, praising, and criticising their efforts. Now and then +a burly gladiator would stroll across the court; but the young +noble and his escort remained hidden in shadow. +</p> + +<p> +Presently a door opened at the other end of the courtyard, +and some one with a lantern began to come toward the entrance. +Long before the stranger was near, Ahenobarbus +thought he was rising like a giant out of the darkness; and +when at last Dumnorix—for it was he—was close at hand, both +Roman and Greek seemed veritable dwarfs beside him. +</p> + +<p> +Dumnorix—so far as he could be seen in the lantern light—was +a splendid specimen of a northern giant. He was at least +six feet five inches in height, and broad proportionately. His +fair straight hair tumbled in disorder over his shoulders, and +his prodigiously long mustaches seemed, to the awed Ahenobarbus, +almost to curl down to his neck. His breath came in hot +pants like a winded horse, and when he spoke, it was in short +Latin monosyllables, interlarded with outlandish Gallic oaths. +He wore cloth trousers with bright stripes of red and orange; +a short-sleeved cloak of dark stuff, falling down to the thigh; +and over the cloak, covering back and shoulders, another sleeveless +mantle, clasped under the chin with a huge golden buckle. +At his right thigh hung, from a silver set girdle, by weighty +bronze chains, a heavy sabre, of which the steel scabbard banged +noisily as its owner advanced. +</p> + +<p> +"Holla! Pratinas," cried the Gaul, as he came close. "By the +holy oak! but I'm glad to see you! Come to my room. Have a +flagon of our good northern mead." +</p> + +<p> +"Hist," said the Greek, cautiously. "Not so boisterous. +Better stay here in the dark. I can't tell who of your men may +hear us." +</p> + +<p> +"As you say," said Dumnorix, setting down the light at a +little distance and coming closer. +</p> + +<p> +"You remember that little affair of last year," said Pratinas, +continuing;—"how you helped me get rid of a witness in a +very troublesome law case?" +</p> + +<p> +"Ha! ha!" chuckled the giant, "I wish I had the sesterces +I won then, in my coffer now." +</p> + +<p> +"Well," replied Pratinas, "I don't need to tell you what I +and my noble friend here—Lucius Domitius Ahenobarbus—have +come for. A little more business along the same line. +Are you our man?" +</p> + +<p> +"I should say so," answered Dumnorix, with a grin worthy +of a baboon. "Only make it worth my while." +</p> + +<p> +"Now," said Pratinas, sinking his voice still lower, "this +affair of ours will pay you well; but it is more delicate than +the other. A blunder will spoil it all. You must do your best; +and we will do the fair thing by you." +</p> + +<p> +"Go on," said the Gaul, folding his huge paws on his breast. +</p> + +<p> +"Have you ever been in Præneste?" questioned Pratinas. +</p> + +<p> +"I matched two <i>mirmillones</i><a name="r62" href="#fn62">[62]</a> of mine there against two +<i>threces</i><a name="r63" href="#fn63">[63]</a> of another lanista, and my dogs won the prize; but I +can't say that I am acquainted with the place," answered the +other. +</p> + +<p> +"You should find out, then," said Pratinas, "for here lies +your work." And then he proceeded, with occasional prompting +from the better-informed Ahenobarbus, to point out the +location of Drusus's estate, and the character and habits of the +man whom Dumnorix was cheerfully proposing to put out of +the way. Dumnorix assented and bade him go on, with hoarse +grunts; and when the Greek had concluded, growled out in his +barbarous Latin:— +</p> + +<p> +"But why all this pother? Why not let me send a knave +or two and knock the fellow some dark night in the head? It +will save us both time and trouble." +</p> + +<p> +"My excellent master of the gladiators," said Pratinas, as +smoothly as ever, "you must not take it ill, if I tell you that +to have a taking off such as you propose would be a very bad +thing both for you and the most noble Ahenobarbus. This +Drusus is not a helpless wight, without friends, waiting to +become the fair prey of any dagger man.<a name="r64" href="#fn64">[64]</a> He has friends, I +have learned, who, if he were to be disposed of in such a rude +and bungling manner, would not fail to probe deeply into the +whole thing. Flaccus the great banker, notably, would spare +no pains to bring the responsibility of the matter home, not +merely to the poor wretch who struck the blow, but the persons +who placed the weapon in his hands. All of which would +be very awkward for Ahenobarbus. No, your rough-and-ready +plan won't in the least work." +</p> + +<p> +"Well," replied Dumnorix, testily, "I'm a man of shallow +wits and hard blows. If I had been of keener mind, the gods +know, I would have been a free chief among the Nervii, +instead of making sport for these straw-limbed Romans. If +what I propose won't answer, what can be done?" +</p> + +<p> +"A great deal," said Pratinas, who knew perfectly how to +cringe low, yet preserve his ascendency; "first of all, it is very +necessary that the murderers of the amiable Drusus should +receive a meet reward for their crime—that justice should +be speedy and severe." +</p> + +<p> +"Man!" cried Dumnorix, griping the Greek's arm in his +tremendous clutch. "What are you asking?" +</p> + +<p> +"By Zeus!" burst out Pratinas, rubbing his crushed member. +"What a grip is yours! Don't be alarmed. Surely you +would be as willing to have one or two of your newest <i>tiros</i> +hung on a cross, as stabbed on the arena—especially when it +will pay a great deal better?" +</p> + +<p> +"I don't follow you," said the Gaul, though a little reassured. +</p> + +<p> +"Simply this," said Pratinas, who evidently felt that he was +coming to the revealing of an especially brilliant piece of +<i>finesse</i>. "My general proposal is this. Let you and your +company march through Præneste,—of course carefully timing +your march so as to find the innocent and unfortunate +Drusus at his farm. You will have a very disorderly band +of gladiators, and they begin to attack Drusus's orchard, and +maltreat his slaves. You try to stop them,—without avail. +Finally, in a most unfortunate and outrageous outbreak they +slay the master of the house. The tumult is quelled. The +heirs proceed against you. You can only hand over the murderers +for crucifixion, and offer to pay any money damages +that may be imposed. A heavy fine is laid upon you, as +being responsible for the killing of Drusus by your slaves. +You pay the damages. Ahenobarbus marries Cornelia and +enters upon the estate. The world says that all that can be +done to atone for Drusus's murder has been done. All of the +guilty are punished. The dead cannot be recalled. The matter +is at an end. Ahenobarbus has what he wished for; you +have all the money you paid in damages quietly refunded; +also the cost of the poor rascals crucified, and a fair sum over +and above for your trouble." +</p> + +<p> +"By the god Belew!"<a name="r65" href="#fn65">[65]</a> cried the enthusiastic Dumnorix. +"What a clever plan! How the world will be cheated! Ha! +ha! How sharp you little Greeks must be. Only I must +have fair return for my work, and an oath that the business +shall never be coming to the point of giving my eyes to the +crows. I can't risk my life in anything but a square fight." +</p> + +<p> +"Well," said Pratinas, after a few words with his companion, +"how will this proposition suit you? All expenses, before +and after the affair itself, of course refunded; one hundred +thousand sesterces clear gain for doing the deed, twenty-five +thousand sesterces for every poor fellow we have to nail up +to satisfy the law, and you to be guaranteed against any evil +consequence. Is this sufficient?" +</p> + +<p> +"I think so," growled Dumnorix, in his mustaches, "but I +must have the oath." +</p> + +<p> +"The oath?" said Pratinas, "oh, certainly!" and the Greek +raised his hands toward heaven, and muttered some words to +the effect that "if he and his friend did not fulfil their oath, +let Zeus, the regarder of oaths, destroy them," etc., etc.—an +imprecation which certainly, so far as words went, was strong +enough to bind the most graceless. Then he proceeded to +arrange with Dumnorix how the latter should wait until it +was known Drusus had gone back to Præneste, and was likely +to stay there for some time; as to how many gladiators the +lanista was to have ready. Dumnorix complained that the +rather recent law against keeping gladiators at Rome prevented +him from assembling in his school any considerable +number. But out of his heterogeneous collection of Gauls, +Germans, Spaniards, Greeks, and Asiatics he would find enough +who could be used for the purpose without letting them know +the full intent with which they were launched against Drusus. +At all events, if their testimony was taken, it would have to +be as slaves on the rack; and if they accused their master of +instigating them to riot, it was what any person would expect +of such degraded and lying wretches. So, after promising to +come again with final word and some bags of earnest-money, +Pratinas parted with the lanista, and he and Lucius Ahenobarbus +found themselves again in the now entirely darkened +Campus Martius. Lucius again feared brigands, but they fell +in with no unpleasant nocturnal wayfarers, and reached the +city without incident. Ahenobarbus seemed to himself to be +treading on air—Cornelia, villas, Drusus's money—these +were dancing in his head in a delightful confusion. He had +abandoned himself completely to the sway of Pratinas; the +Greek was omniscient, was invincible, was a greater than +Odysseus. Ahenobarbus hardly dared to think for himself +as to the plan which his friend had arranged for him. One +observation, however, he made before they parted. +</p> + +<p> +"You swore that Dumnorix should get into no trouble. +May it not prove expensive to keep him out of difficulty?" +</p> + +<p> +"My dear Lucius," replied Pratinas, "in cases of that kind +there is a line from the Hippolytus of the immortal tragedian +Euripides, which indicates the correct attitude for a philosopher +and a man of discretion to assume. It runs thus,— +</p> + + +<blockquote> +<p> +"'My tongue an oath took, but my mind's unsworn.' +</p> +</blockquote> + + +<p> +Not an inelegant sentiment, as you must see." +</p> + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p> +We left the excellent man of learning, Pisander, in no +happy frame of mind, after Agias had been dragged away, +presumably to speedy doom. And indeed for many days the +shadow of Valeria's crime, for it was nothing else, plunged +him in deep melancholy. Pisander was not a fool, only +amongst his many good qualities he did not possess that of +being able to make a success in life. He had been tutor to +a young Asiatic prince, and had lost his position by a local +revolution; then he had drifted to Alexandria, and finally +Rome, where he had struggled first to teach philosophy, and +found no pupils to listen to his lectures; then to conduct an +elementary school, but his scholars' parents were backward in +paying even the modest fees he charged. Finally, in sheer +despair, to keep from starving, he accepted the position as +Valeria's "house-philosopher." +</p> + +<p> +His condition was infinitely unsatisfactory for a variety of +reasons. The good lady wished him to be at her elbow, ready +to read from the philosophers or have on hand a talk on ethics +or metaphysics to deliver extempore. Besides, though not a +slave or freedman, he fared in the household much worse +sometimes than they. A slave stole the dainties, and drained +a beaker of costly wine on the sly. Pisander, like Thales, +who was so intent looking at the stars that he fell into a well, +"was so eager to know what was going on in heaven that +he could not see what was before his feet."<a name="r66" href="#fn66">[66]</a> And consequently +the poor pedant dined on the remnants left after his employer +and her husband had cleared the board; and had rancid oil +and sour wine given him, when they enjoyed the best. The +slaves had snubbed him and made fun of him; the freedmen +regarded him with absolute disdain; Valeria's regular visitors +treated him as a nonentity. Besides, all his standards of ethical +righteousness were outraged by the round of life which he +was compelled daily to witness. The worthy man would long +before have ceased from a vassalage so disgraceful, had he +possessed any other means of support. Once he meditated +suicide, but was scared out of it by the thought that his +bones would moulder in those huge pits on the Esquiline—far +from friend or native land—where artisans, slaves, and +cattle, creatures alike without means of decent burial, were +left under circumstances unspeakably revolting to moulder +away to dust. +</p> + +<p> +The day of Agias's misfortune, Pisander sat in his corner of +the boudoir, after Valeria had left it, in a very unphilosophical +rage, gnawing his beard and cursing inwardly his mistress, +Pratinas, and the world in general. +</p> + +<p> +Arsinoë with a pale, strained face was moving about, replacing +the bottles of cosmetics and perfumery in cabinets and +caskets. Pisander had been kind to Arsinoë, and had taught +her to read; and there was a fairly firm friendship between +the slave and the luckless man, who felt himself degraded by +an equal bondage. +</p> + +<p> +"Poor Agias," muttered Pisander. +</p> + +<p> +"Poor Agias," repeated Arsinoë, mournfully; then in some +scorn, "Come, Master Pisander, now is the time to console +yourself with your philosophy. Call out everything,—your +Zeno, or Parmenides, or Heraclitus, or others of the thousand +nobodies I've heard you praise to Valeria,—and make thereby +my heart a jot the less sore, or Agias's death the less bitter! +Don't sit there and snap at your beard, if your philosophy is +good for anything! People used to pray to the gods in +trouble, but you philosophers turn the gods into mists or thin +air. You are a man! You are free! Do something! Say +something!" +</p> + +<p> +"But what can I do?" groaned Pisander, bursting into +tears, and wishing for the instant Epicureans, Stoics, Eclectics, +Peripatetics, and every other school of learning in the nethermost +Hades. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Phui!</i> Fudge!" cried Arsinoë. "What is life made for +then, if a man who has spent all his days studying it is as +good as helpless! Look at me! Have I not hands, feet, a +head, and wits? Am I not as well informed and naturally +capable as three fine ladies out of every four? Would I not +look as handsome as they, if I had a chance to wear their +dresses and jewels? Have I any blemish, any defect, that +makes me cease to be a woman, and become a thing? Bah, +master <i>Pisander!</i> I am only a slave, but I will talk. Why +does my blood boil at the fate of Agias, if it was not meant that +it should heat up for some end? And yet I am as much a +piece of property of that woman whom I hate, as this chair or +casket. I have a right to no hope, no ambition, no desire, +no reward. I can only aspire to live without brutal treatment. +That would be a sort of Elysium. If I was brave +enough, I would kill myself, and go to sleep and forget it all. +But I am weak and cowardly, and so—here I am." +</p> + +<p> +Pisander only groaned and went away to his room to turn over +his Aristotle, and wonder why nothing in the "Nicomachean +Ethics" or any other learned treatise contained the least word +that made him contented over the fate of Agias or his own +unhappy situation. Arsinoë and Semiramis, when he went +from them, cried, and cried again, in pity and helpless grief +at their whole situation. And so a considerable number of +days passed. Calatinus could have given joy to the hearts of +several in his household if he had simply remembered that +Agias had not been scourged to death, but sold. But Calatinus +feared, now that he was well out of the matter, to stir up an +angry scene with his wife, by hinting that Agias had not been +punished according to her orders. Alfidius, too, and the other +slaves with him, imagined that his mistress would blame them +if they admitted that Agias was alive. So the household +gathered, by the silence of all concerned, that the bright Greek +boy had long since passed beyond power of human torment. +Pisander recovered part of his equanimity, and Arsinoë and +Semiramis began to see life a shade less darkened. +</p> + +<p> +Pratinas occasionally repeated his morning calls upon Valeria. +He seemed much engrossed with business, but was always the +same suave, elegant, accomplished personage that had endeared +him to that lady's heart. One morning he came in, in unusually +good spirits. "Congratulate me," he exclaimed, after +saluting Valeria; "I have disposed of a very delicate piece of +work, and my mind can take a little rest. At least I have +roughly chiselled out the matter, as a sculptor would say, and +can now wait a bit before finishing. Ah! what elegant study +is this which is engrossing your ladyship this morning?" +</p> + +<p> +"Pisander is reading from the works of Gorgias of Leontini," +said Valeria, languidly. +</p> + +<p> +"To be sure," went on Pratinas; "I have always had the +greatest respect for the three nihilistic propositions of that +philosopher. To read him one is half convinced of the affirmation +that nothing exists; that if anything existed, the fact +could not be known, and that if the fact were known, it could +not be communicated; although of course, my dear madam, +there are very grave objections to accepting such views in their +fulness." +</p> + +<p> +"Of course," echoed Valeria. "Pisander, read Pratinas that +little poem of Archilochus, whose sentiment I so much admired, +when I happened on it yesterday." +</p> + +<p> +Pisander fumbled among his rolls, then read, perhaps throwing +a bit of sarcasm into his tone:— +</p> + + +<blockquote> +<p> +"Gyges'<a name="r67" href="#fn67">[67]</a> wealth and honours great<br /> + Come not nigh to me!<br /> +Heavenly pow'r, or tyrant's state,<br /> + I'll not envy thee.<br /> +Swift let any sordid prize<br /> +Fade and vanish from my eyes!" +</p> +</blockquote> + + +<p> +"Your ladyship," said Pratinas, appearing entranced by the +lines, "is ever in search of the pearls of refined expression!" +</p> + +<p> +"I wish," said Valeria, whose mind ran from Gorgias to +Archilochus, and then back to quite foreign matters, with lightning +rapidity, "you would tell Kallias, the sculptor, that the +head-dress on my statue in the atrium must be changed. I +don't arrange my hair that way any longer. He must put on +a new head-dress without delay."<a name="r68" href="#fn68">[68]</a> +</p> + +<p> +"Certainly," assented the Greek. +</p> + +<p> +"And now," said the lady, half entreating, half insinuating, +"<i>you must</i> tell me what has made you so abstracted lately; +that business you mentioned, which compelled you to restrict +your calls." +</p> + +<p> +"My dear Valeria," said Pratinas, casting a glance over at +Pisander in his corner, "I dislike mysteries; but perhaps +there are some things which I had better not reveal to any +one. Don't be offended, but—" +</p> + +<p> +"I am offended," exclaimed the lady, striking her lap with +her hands, "and I accept no '<i>buts</i>.' I will be as silent about +all your affairs as about the mysteries of the <i>Bona +Dea</i>.<a name="r69" href="#fn69">[69]</a>" +</p> + +<p> +"I believe I can be confident you will not betray me," said +Pratinas, who in fact considered precautions that were necessary +to take among so blundering and thick-witted people as +the Latins, almost superfluous. He muttered to himself, "I +wouldn't dare to do this in Alexandria,—prate of a murder,—" +and then glanced again toward Pisander. +</p> + +<p> +"Pisander," said Valeria, sharply, noting Pratinas's disquietude, +"go out of the room. I don't need you at present." +</p> + +<p> +Pisander, unlike many contemporaries, was affected by a +sensitive conscience. But if there was one man whom he despised +to the bottom of his soul, it was Pratinas. Pratinas +had lorded it over him and patronized him, in a way which +drove the mild-tempered man of learning to desperation. The +spirit of evil entered into the heart of Pisander as he left the +room. The average chatter of Pratinas and Valeria had been +gall and wormwood to him, and he had been glad enough to +evade it; but here was Pratinas with a secret which he clearly +did not wish Pisander to know. And Pisander, prompted +by most unphilosophical motives, resolved within himself to +play the eavesdropper. The boudoir was approached by three +doors, one from the peristylium, one from Valeria's private +sleeping chamber, one from the servants' quarters. Pisander +went out through the first, and going through other rooms to +the third, took his station by that entrance. He met Arsinoë, +and took the friendly maid into his plot, by stationing her +on guard to prevent the other servants from interfering with +him. Then applying his ear to the large keyhole of the +door, he could understand all that was passing in the boudoir. +What Pratinas was saying it is hardly necessary to repeat. +The Greek was relating with infinite zest, and to Valeria's +intense delight and amusement, the story of the two wills +which placed Drusus's estate and the hand of Cornelia within +reach of Lucius Ahenobarbus; of the manner in which this +last young man had been induced to take steps to make way +with an unfortunate rival. Finally, in a low, half-audible +tone, he told of the provisional arrangements with Dumnorix, +and how very soon the plan was to be put in execution. +</p> + +<p> +"And you must be sure and tell me," cried Valeria, clapping +her hands when Pratinas concluded, "what the details of the +affair all are, and when and how you succeed. Poor Quintus +Drusus! I am really sorry for him. But when one doesn't +make use of what Fortune has given him, there is nothing +else to do!" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," said Pratinas, sententiously. "He who fails to realize +what is for him the highest good, forfeits, thereby, the right +to life itself." +</p> + +<p> +Pisander slipped away from the keyhole, with a white +face, and panting for breath. Briefly, he repeated what he +had gathered to Arsinoë, then blurted out:— +</p> + +<p> +"I will go in and meet that well-oiled villain face to face. +By Zeus! I will make him feel the depths of an honest man's +scorn and indignation!" +</p> + +<p> +"You will be a fool," replied Arsinoë, quietly, "if you do. +Valeria would instantly dismiss you from her service." +</p> + +<p> +"I will go at once to Drusus," asserted Pisander. +</p> + +<p> +"Drusus may or may not be convinced that what you say is +true," answered the girl; "but he, I gather from what you repeat, +has just gone back to Præneste. Before you could reach +Præneste, you are a dead man." +</p> + +<p> +"How so?" demanded the excited philosopher, brandishing +his fists. "I am as strong as Pratinas." +</p> + +<p> +"How little wisdom," commented Arsinoë, "you do gather +from your books! Can't you see Pratinas is a reckless scoundrel—with +every gladiator in Dumnorix's school at his call if +needs be—who would stop at nothing to silence promptly the +mouth of a dangerous witness? This isn't worse than many +another case. Don't share the ruin of a man who is an utter +stranger! We have troubles enough of our own." +</p> + +<p> +And with this consolation Arsinoë left him, again consumed +with impotent rage. +</p> + +<p> +"Villain," fumed Pisander to himself, "if I could only +place my fingers round your neck! But what can I do? +What can I do? I am helpless, friendless, penniless! And I +can only tear out my heart, and pretend to play the philosopher. +I, a philosopher! If I were a true one, I would have +had the courage to kill myself before this." +</p> + +<p> +And in this mental state he continued, till he learned that +Pratinas had taken his farewell, and that Calatinus wished +him—since all the slaves seemed busy, and the poor house +philosopher was often sent on menial errands—to go to the +<i>Forum Boarium</i>,<a name="r70" href="#fn70">[70]</a> and bring back some ribs of beef for a dinner +that evening. Pisander went as bidden, tugging a large +basket, and trying to muster up courage to continue his walk +to the Fabrician Bridge, and plunge into the Tiber. In classic +days suicide was a commendable act under a great many circumstances, +and Pisander was perfectly serious and sincere +in his belief that he and the world had been companions too +long for the good of either. But the jar and din of the streets +certainly served to make connected philosophical meditation +upon the futility and unimportance of human existence decidedly +unfruitful. By the time he reached the cattle-market the +noise of this strange place drove all suicidal intentions from +him. Butchers were slaughtering kine; drovers were driving +oxen off of barges that had come down the Tiber; sheep and +goats were bleating—everywhere around the stalls, booths, +shops, and pens was the bustle of an enormous traffic. Pisander +picked his way through the crowd, searching for the +butcher to whom he had been especially sent. He had gone as +far as the ancient shrine of Mater Matuta, which found place +in these seemingly unhallowed precincts, when, as he gazed +into the throng before him, his hair stood as it were on end, +his voice choked in his throat, and cold sweat broke out over +him. The next moment his hand was seized by another, young +and hearty, and he was gasping forth the name of Agias. +</p> + + + + + +<h2 id="ch5">CHAPTER V</h2> + +<h2>A VERY OLD PROBLEM</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p> +Drusus had at last finished the business which centred +around the death of his uncle, old Publius Vibulanus. He +had walked behind the bier, in company with the other relatives +of the deceased—all very distant, saving himself. On +the day, too, of the funeral, he had been obliged to make his +first public oration—a eulogy delivered in the Forum from +the Rostra—in which Drusus tried to pay a graceful but not +fulsome tribute to the old eques, who had never distinguished +himself in any way, except the making of money. The many +clients of Vibulanus, who now looked upon the young man as +their patron, had raised a prodigious din of applause during +the oration, and Quintus was flattered to feel that he had not +studied rhetoric in vain. Finally, as next of kin, he had to +apply the torch to the funeral pyre, and preside over the +funeral feast, held by custom nine days after the actual +burning, and over the contests of gladiators which took place +at this festivity. Meanwhile Sextus Flaccus had been attending +to the legal business connected with the transfer of the +dead man's estate to his heir. All this took time—time which +Drusus longed to be spending with Cornelia in shady and +breezy Præneste, miles from unhealthy, half-parched Rome. +</p> + +<p> +Drusus had sent Agias ahead to Cornelia, as soon as the poor +boy had recovered in the least from his brutal scourging. The +lad had parted from his deliverer with the most extravagant +demonstrations of gratitude, which Quintus had said he could +fully repay by implicit devotion to Cornelia. How that young +lady had been pleased with her present, Drusus could not tell; +although he had sent along a letter explaining the circumstances +of the case. But Quintus had other things on his +mind than Agias and his fortunes, on the morning when at last +he turned his face away from the sultry capital, and found his +carriage whirling him once more over the Campagna. +</p> + +<p> +Drusus had by personal experience learned the bitterness of +the political struggle in which he had elected to take part. +The Cæsarians at Rome (Balbus, Antonius, and Curio) had welcomed +him to their number, for young as he was, his wealth +and the prestige of the Livian name were not to be despised. +And Drusus saw how, as in his younger days he had not +realized, the whole fabric of the state was in an evil way, and +rapidly approaching its mending or ending. The Roman +Republic had exported legions; she had imported slaves, who +heaped up vast riches for their masters, while their competition +reduced the free peasantry to starvation. And now a splendid +aristocracy claimed to rule a subject world, while the "Roman +people" that had conquered that world were a degenerate mob, +whose suffrages in the elections were purchasable—almost +openly—by the highest bidder. The way was not clear before +Drusus; he only saw, with his blind, Pagan vision, that no +real liberty existed under present conditions; that Pompeius +and his allies, the Senate party, were trying to perpetuate the +aristocracy in power, and that Cæsar, the absent proconsul of +the Gauls, stood, at least, for a sweeping reform. And so the +young man made his decision and waited the march of events. +</p> + +<p> +But once at Præneste all these forebodings were thrust into +the background. The builders and frescoers had done their +work well in his villa. A new colonnade was being erected. +Coloured mosaic floors were being laid. The walls of the rooms +were all a-dance with bright Cupids and Bacchantes—cheerful +apartments for their prospective mistress. But it was over +to the country-house of the Lentuli that Drusus made small +delay to hasten, there to be in bliss in company with Cornelia, +</p> + +<p> +"And how," he asked, after the young lady had talked of a +dozen innocent nothings, "do you like Agias, the boy I sent +you?" +</p> + +<p> +"I can never thank you enough—at least if he is always as +clever and witty as he has been since I have had him," was +the reply. "I was vexed at first to have a servant with such +dreadful scars all over him; but he is more presentable now. +And he has a very droll way of saying bright things. What +fun he has made of Livia's dear mother, his former mistress! +I shall have to give up reading any wise authors, if it will +make me grow like Valeria. Then, too, Agias has won my +favour, if in no other way, by getting a thick grass stem out of +the throat of my dear little pet sparrow, that was almost choking +to death. I am so grateful to you for him!" +</p> + +<p> +"I am very glad you are fond of him," said Drusus. "Has +your uncle come back from Rome yet? I did not meet him +while there. I was busy; and besides, to speak honestly, I +have a little hesitation in seeing him, since the political +situation is so tense." +</p> + +<p> +"He returns to-night, I believe," replied Cornelia. Then +as if a bit apprehensive, "Tell me about the world, Drusus; +I don't care to be one of those fine ladies of the sort of Clodia,<a name="r71" href="#fn71">[71]</a> +who are all in the whirl of politics, and do everything a man +does except to speak in the Senate; but I like to know what is +going on. There isn't going to be a riot, I hope, as there was +two years ago, when no consuls were elected, and Pompeius had +to become sole magistrate?" +</p> + +<p> +"There have been no tumults so far," said Drusus, who did +not care to unfold all his fears and expectations. +</p> + +<p> +"Yet things are in a very bad way, I hear," said Cornelia +"Can't Cæsar and my uncle's party agree?" +</p> + +<p> +"I'm afraid not," replied Drusus, shaking his head. "Cæsar +wishes to be consul a second time. Pompeius and he were +friends when at Lucca six years ago this was agreed on. Cæsar +was then promised that he should have his Gallic proconsulship +up to the hour when he should be consul, and besides +Pompeius promised to have permission granted Cæsar to be +elected consul, without appearing as a candidate in Rome; so +at no moment was Cæsar to be without office,<a name="r72" href="#fn72">[72]</a> and consequently +he was not to be liable to prosecution from his enemies. +All this was secured to Cæsar by the laws,—laws which +Pompeius aided to have enacted. But now Crassus the third +triumvir is dead; Julia, Cæsar's daughter and Pompeius's wife, +whom both dearly loved, is dead. And Pompeius has been +persuaded by your uncle and his friends to break with Cæsar +and repudiate his promise. Cæsar and Pompeius have long +been so powerful together that none could shake their authority; +but if one falls away and combines with the common +enemy, what but trouble is to be expected?" +</p> + +<p> +"The enemy! the enemy!" repeated Cornelia, looking down, +and sighing. "Quintus, these feuds are a dreadful thing. Can't +you," and here she threw a bit of pathetic entreaty into her +voice, "join with my uncle's party, and be his friend? I hate +to think of having my husband at variance with the man who +stands in place of my father." +</p> + +<p> +Drusus took her face between his hands, and looked straight +at her. They were standing within the colonnade of the villa +of the Lentuli, and the sunlight streaming between the pillars +fell directly upon Cornelia's troubled face, and made a sort of +halo around her. +</p> + +<p> +"My dearest, delectissima," said Quintus, earnestly, "I could +not honourably take your hand in marriage, if I had not done +that which my conscience, if not my reason, tells me is the only +right thing to do. It grieves me to hurt you; but we are not +fickle Greeks, nor servile Easterns; but Romans born to rule, +and because born to rule, born to count nothing dear that will +tend to advance the strength and prosperity not of self, but of +the state. You would not love me if I said I cared more for +keeping a pang from your dear heart, than for the performance +of that which our ancestors counted the one end of life—duty +to the commonwealth." +</p> + +<p> +Cornelia threw her arms around him. +</p> + +<p> +"You are the noblest man on the whole earth!" she cried +with bright enthusiasm. "Of course I would not love you if +you did what you believed to be wrong! My uncle may scold, +may storm. I shan't care for all his anger, for you <i>must be</i> +right." +</p> + +<p> +"Ah! delectissima," cried Drusus, feeling at the moment as +if he were capable of refuting senates and confounding kings, +"we will not look at too gloomy a side of the picture. Pompeius +and Cæsar will be reconciled. Your uncle's party will +see that it is best to allow the proconsul an election as +promised. We will have wise laws and moderate reforms. +All will come out aright. And we—we two—will go along +through life as softly and as merrily as now we stroll up and +down in the cool shade of these columns; and I will turn philosopher +and evolve a new system that will forever send Plato +and Zeno, Epicurus and Timon, to the most remote and spider-spun +cupboard of the most old-fashioned library, and you shall +be a poetess, a Sappho, an Erinna, who shall tinkle in Latin +metres sweeter than they ever sing in Aiolic. And so we will +fleet the time as though we were Zeus and Hera on Olympus." +</p> + +<p> +"Zeus and Hera!" repeated Cornelia, laughing. "You silly +Græcule.<a name="r73" href="#fn73">[73]</a> You may talk about that misbehaved pair, who +were anything but harmonious and loving, if Homer tells truly. +I prefer our own Juppiter and our Juno of the Aventine. <i>They</i> +are a staid and home-keeping couple, worth imitating, if we are +to imitate any celestials. But nothing Greek for me." +</p> + +<p> +"Intolerant, intolerant," retorted Drusus, "we are all Greek, +we Romans of to-day—what is left of old Latium but her half-discarded +language, her laws worse than discarded, perverted, +her good pilum<a name="r74" href="#fn74">[74]</a> which has not quite lost its cunning, and +her—" +</p> + +<p> +"Men," interrupted Cornelia, "such as you!" +</p> + +<p> +"And women," continued Drusus, "such as you! Ah! +There is something left of Rome after all. We are not altogether +fallen, unworthy of our ancestors. Why shall we not be +merry? A Greek would say that it was always darkest before +Eōs leaves the couch of Tithonus,<a name="r75" href="#fn75">[75]</a> and who knows that our +Helios is not soon to dawn and be a long, long time ere his +setting? I feel like throwing formality to the winds, crying +'Iacchos evoë,' and dancing like a bacchanal, and singing in +tipsy delight,— +</p> + + +<blockquote> +<p> +"'Oh, when through the long night,<br /> + With fleet foot glancing white,<br /> +Shall I go dancing in my revelry,<br /> + My neck cast back, and bare<br /> + Unto the dewy air,<br /> +Like sportive faun in the green meadow's glee?'<a name="r76" href="#fn76">[76]</a> +</p> +</blockquote> + + +<p> +as old Euripides sings in his 'Bacchæ.' Yes, the Hellenes +were right when they put nymphs in the forest and in the +deep. Only our blind practical Latin eyes will not see them. +We will forget that we are Romans; we will build for ourselves +some cosey little Phæacia up in the Sabine hills beside some +lake; and there my Sappho shall also be my Nausicaä to +shine fair as a goddess upon her distressed and shipwrecked +Odysseus." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," said Cornelia, smiling, "a delightful idyl; but +Odysseus would not stay with Nausicaä." +</p> + +<p> +"I was wrong," replied Drusus, as they walked arm in +arm out from the portico, and down the broad avenue of +stately shade trees. "You shall be the faithful Penelope, who +receives back her lord in happiness after many trials. Your +clever Agias can act as Telemachus for us." +</p> + +<p> +"But the suitors whom Odysseus must slay?" asked Cornelia, +entering into the fun. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, for them," said Drusus, lightly, "we need not search +far. Who other than Ahenobarbus?" +</p> + + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p> +Rather late in the afternoon, a few days subsequently, the +most noble Lucius Cornelius Lentulus Crus, consul-designate, +and one of the most prominent politicians of his time and +nation, arrived at Præneste; having hurried away from Rome +to escape for a little while the summer heats which made the +capital anything but a pleasant place for residence. Drusus's +travelling cortège would have seemed small enough compared +with the hedge of outriders, footmen, and body-servants that +surrounded the great man. But notwithstanding his prospective +dignities, and his present importance, Lentulus Crus was +hardly an imposing personality. He was a bald-pated, florid +individual, with rough features, a low, flat forehead, and coarse +lips. He was dressed very fashionably, and was perfumed +and beringed to an extent that would have been derided anywhere +save in the most select circles of Rome. He was stout, +and when he alighted from his carriage, he moved away with +a somewhat waddling gait, and lifted up a rasping, high-pitched +voice in unsonorous complaint against a slave who let +fall a parcel of baggage. +</p> + +<p> +Clearly the master of the house had returned, and all the +familia and freedmen bustled about their various tasks with +the unusual promptitude and diligence which is the outcome +of a healthy fear of retribution for slackness. Lentulus went +into the atrium, and there had an angry conference with the +local land-steward, over some accounts which the latter presented. +In fact, so ill was the humour of the noble lord, that +Cornelia avoided going out from her room to meet him, and +pretended to be so engrossed in her Ennius that she did not +hear he had come. +</p> + +<p> +This pretence, however, could not last long. Lentulus called +out in a surly tone to know where his niece was, and the latter +was fain to present herself. It could not be said that the +meeting between Cornelia and her uncle was extremely affectionate. +The interchange of kisses was painfully formal, and +then Lentulus demanded somewhat abruptly:— +</p> + +<p> +"How have you been spending your time? With that +young ne'er-do-weel son of Sextus Drusus?" +</p> + +<p> +"Quintus was here this morning," said Cornelia, feeling a +little reproachful at the manner in which her uncle had spoken +of her lover. +</p> + +<p> +"Just back from Rome, I presume?" said Lentulus, icily, +"and he must fly over to the cote of his little dove and see +that she hasn't flitted away? He'd better have a care in his +doings. He'll have something more serious on hand than lovemaking +before long." +</p> + +<p> +"I don't understand you, uncle," said Cornelia, turning +rather red; "Quintus has never done anything for which he +has cause to fear." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, he hasn't, eh?" retorted Lentulus. "<i>Mehercle!</i> +what donkeys you women are! You may go, I want to see +your mother." +</p> + +<p> +"She is in her own room," said Cornelia, turning her +back; "I wish you would not speak to me in that way +again." +</p> + +<p> +Lentulus wandered through the mazes of courts, colonnades, +and the magnificently decorated and finished rooms of the +villa, until he came to the chamber of Claudia, his sister-in-law. +Claudia was a woman of the same fashionable type as +Valeria, good-looking, ostentatious, proud, selfish, devoid of +any aim in life save the securing of the most vapid pleasure. +At the moment, she was stretched out on a thickly cushioned +couch. She had thrown on a loose dress of silken texture. +A negress was waving over her head a huge fan of long white +feathers. A second negress was busy mixing in an <i>Authepsa</i>,—a +sort of silver urn, heated by charcoal,—a quantity +of spices, herbs, and water, which the lady was to take as +soon as it was sufficiently steeped. Claudia had been enjoying +an unusually gay round of excitement while at Baiæ, +and she had but just come up to Præneste, to recover herself +after the exertions of a score of fashionable suppers, excursions +on the Lucrine Lake, and the attendant exhausting +amusements. When her brother-in-law entered the room, she +raised her carefully tinted eyebrows, and observed with great +languor:— +</p> + +<p> +"So you have gotten away from Rome, at last, my Lucius?" +</p> + +<p> +"For a few days," replied Lentulus, in no very affable tone; +"the heat and din of the city will drive me mad! And I +have had no end of troublesome business. The senators +are all fools or slaves of Cæsar. That treacherous rascal, +Curio, is blocking all our efforts. Even Pompeius is half-hearted +in the cause. It wouldn't take much to make him go +back to Cæsar, and then where would we be?" +</p> + +<p> +"Where would we be?" said Claudia, half conscious of +what she said, turning over wearily. "Don't talk politics, my +dear brother. They are distressingly dull. My head aches +at the very word." And she held out her hand and took +the golden cup of hot drink which the negress offered her. +</p> + +<p> +"Aye," replied Lentulus, not in the least subdued, "where +<i>will</i> we be, if Pompeius and Cæsar become friends? If there +is no war, no proscription, no chance to make a sesterce in a +hurry!" +</p> + +<p> +"My dear brother," said Claudia, still more languidly, and +yawning at length, as she handed back the cup, "have I not +said that the mere mention of politics makes my head +ache?" +</p> + +<p> +"Then let it," said the other, brutally; "I must have some +plain words with you." And he pointed toward the door. +The two serving-maids took the hint, and retired. +</p> + +<p> +Claudia settled her head back on the pillows, and folded +her hands as if to resign herself to a very dull tête-à-tête. +</p> + +<p> +"Have you any new debts?" demanded Lentulus. +</p> + +<p> +"What a tiresome question," murmured the lady. "No—no—yes; +I owe Pomponius the fancier—I don't quite know +how much—for my last Maltese lap dog." +</p> + +<p> +"Thank the gods that is all," went on her brother-in-law. +"Now listen to me. I have been living beyond my means. +Last year the canvass to get on the board of guardians of the +Sibylline Books—in which that graceless son-in-law of Cicero's, +Publius Dolabella, defeated me—cost a deal of money. This +year I have the consulship. But it has taken every denarius I +own, and more too. All my estates are involved, so that it will +require years to redeem them, in the ordinary way." +</p> + +<p> +"How extremely unfortunate!" sighed Claudia, looking +dreadfully bored. +</p> + +<p> +"If that was all I had to tell you," snapped back Lentulus, +"I would not have disturbed your ladyship's repose. But you +must be so indulgent as to listen." +</p> + +<p> +"Well?" said Claudia, yawning again and settling herself. +</p> + +<p> +"Your late husband left some little property," began the +other. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, to be sure; oh! my poor Caius!" and Claudia began +to sob and wipe away the tears. +</p> + +<p> +"And this property I have involved," continued Lentulus, +driving straight ahead and never heeding the widow's display +of emotions. "It will be impossible for me to clear away the +encumbrances for some little time." +</p> + +<p> +Claudia was excited now. She sprang up from her cushions +and cried, or rather screamed:— +</p> + +<p> +"Brute! Robber of orphans and widows! Heartless wretch! +Have you pledged the slender fortune Caius left me, and the +dowry of my poor dear Cornelia?" And her voice sank into +hoarseness, and she began to sob once more. +</p> + +<p> +Lentulus regarded her with vexation and contempt. "<i>Mehercle!</i> +what a fuss you are making! The deed is done, and +there's no helping it. I came here, not to offer excuses, but to +state the facts. You may call me what you please; I <i>had to do +it</i>, or lose the consulship. Now look the matter in the face. +You must contract no more debts; I can't discharge the old +ones. Live as reasonably as you can." +</p> + +<p> +"And no more nice dinners? No more visits to Baiæ?" +groaned the lady, rocking to and fro. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, yes," broke in her brother-in-law, sharply, "I can +still raise enough to meet all ordinary expenses. If I let down +in my household, my creditors would see I was pinched, and +begin to pluck me. I can weather the storm. But look here: +Cornelia must have an end with that young Drusus. I can +never pay her dowry, and would not have him for a nephew-in-law +if I could." +</p> + +<p> +"Cornelia break off with Drusus?" and Claudia stopped +whimpering, and sat staring at Lentulus with astonished eyes. +To tell the truth she had always liked the young Livian, and +thought her daughter was destined for a most advantageous +match. +</p> + +<p> +"Certainly, my dear Claudia," said the consul-elect, half +relieved to change what had been a very awkward subject; "I +can assure you that Quintus is far from being a proper and +worthy man for a husband for your daughter. I have heard +very evil reports of him while in the city. He has cast in his +lot with that gang of knavish Cæsarians centring around Marcus +Antonius, Cælius, and that Caius Sallustius<a name="r77" href="#fn77">[77]</a> whom our excellent +censors have just ejected from the Senate, because of his +evil living and Cæsarian tendencies. Do I need to say more +of him? A worthless, abandoned, shameless profligate!" +</p> + +<p> +Claudia had a little sense of humour; and when Lentulus was +working himself up into a righteous rage over the alleged misdoings +of Drusus, she interrupted:— +</p> + +<p> +"You do well to say so, my dear Lucius; for all men know +that your life is as morally severe as your good friend Cato's." +</p> + +<p> +Lentulus was silent for a moment, and bit his lip; then +recommenced:— +</p> + +<p> +"What I meant to say was this. Quintus Drusus and I are +enemies; and I will not give him my niece in marriage. If we +were friends, I would not be able to pay the dowry. You can +complain if you please; but you can't alter my inclinations or +my inability to carry out the marriage agreement." +</p> + +<p> +Though Claudia in many respects was an empty woman of +the world, she had in a way a desire to promote her daughter's +happiness, and, as has been said, she had been extremely fond +of Drusus. So she replied diplomatically that Quintus was +probably willing to wait a reasonable time for the dowry; and +that even if he had held communication with the Cæsarians, +he was little more than a boy and could be shaken out of any +unfortunate political opinions. +</p> + +<p> +"I will be reasonable," said Lentulus, after pacing up and +down for a few minutes. "I was told of his folly by Caius +Calvus.<a name="r78" href="#fn78">[78]</a> Calvus is as a rule accurate in his information. He +said he met Drusus in company with Balbus and Curio. But +there may have been some mistake. And the lad, as you declare, +may be willing to cut loose from a bad course. If he +really cares for Cornelia, he will be moderate in his demands +for the dowry. Your suggestion is worth taking, Claudia. Let +us send for him, and let him know the only terms on which he +can have my niece." +</p> + +<p> +Lentulus clapped his hands, and a serving-boy came in for +orders. +</p> + +<p> +"Go to the villa of Quintus Drusus," commanded the master, +"and tell him that I would see him at once on business of +weight." +</p> + +<p> +Claudia arose, and let her maids throw over her a long +white <i>stola</i>,<a name="r79" href="#fn79">[79]</a> with deep flounces and an elaborate embroidery +of sea-nymphs and marine monsters. Lentulus went out into +the atrium and walked up and down, biting his nails, and +trying to think out the arguments by which he would confute +the political heresies of Drusus. Lentulus was too good a +politician not to know that the young man would be a valuable +catch for the party that secured him; and the consul-elect +was determined, not so much to spare breaking the heart of +his niece, but to rob the enemy of a valuable adherent. Cornelia +had gone back to her book; but when she saw the +boy go down the path, evidently on an errand to the villa +of the Drusi, she rolled up the volume, and went into the +atrium. +</p> + +<p> +"You have sent after Quintus, uncle?" she asked. +</p> + +<p> +"I have," was the reply; "I expect him shortly." +</p> + +<p> +"What is the matter?" continued Cornelia, growing apprehensive. +</p> + +<p> +"I wish to make the arrangements for your wedding," +replied Lentulus, continuing his pacing to and fro. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, I am so glad!" cried Cornelia, cheerily. "I am so +pleased you wish to make everything agreeable for Quintus +and for me!" +</p> + +<p> +"I hope so," was the rather gloomy response. +</p> + +<p> +Presently Drusus was seen coming up the shaded path at a +very brisk stride. He had been playing at fencing with old +Mamercus, and his face was all aglow with a healthy colour; +there was a bright light in his eye. When he saw Cornelia in +the doorway he gave a laugh and broke into a run, which +brought him up to her panting and merry. +</p> + +<p> +Then as he saw Lentulus he paused, half ashamed of his +display of boyish ardour, and yet, with a smile and a gracious +salutation, asked the older man if he was enjoying good health, +and congratulated him on his election. +</p> + +<p> +The consul-designate was a little disarmed by this straightforward +mode of procedure. He dropped unuttered the elaborate +exordium he had been preparing on the tendency of +young men to be led astray by speciously pleading schemers, +and found himself replying mildly to questions about himself +and various old friends of his, whom Drusus had known as a +boy before he went to Athens. But finally the young man +interrupted this pacific discourse with the query:— +</p> + +<p> +"And, most noble Lentulus, what is the business on which +you sent for me? So far as I am able, the uncle of Cornelia +has but to command." +</p> + +<p> +Lentulus glanced at Claudia, as if expecting her to open a +delicate subject; but that excellent lady only fingered her +<i>palla</i>,<a name="r80" href="#fn80">[80]</a> and gave vent to a slight cough. Cornelia, whose +fears had all passed away, stood beside Drusus, with one +arm resting on his shoulder, glancing pertly from one man to +the other. Lentulus began:— +</p> + +<p> +"I am very sorry to tell you, Quintus, that I fear your +wedding with Cornelia cannot be celebrated as soon as you +hoped." +</p> + +<p> +"Must be postponed!" exclaimed the young man, in alarm; +and Cornelia dropped her arm, and stared at her uncle in +dismay. +</p> + +<p> +"I fear so," said Lentulus, dryly. "I have done my best +to husband the fortune Caius left his daughter; but, as perhaps +you know, I invested a very large part of it in the tax +farming syndicate for farther Spain. The speculation seemed +safe, but local wars have so reduced the profits that they +amount to nothing, and it will be some time before the principal +is set free. Of course, in ordinary times I would make +up the sum from my own means, but I have had very heavy +expenses lately; consequently, I fear you cannot marry Cornelia +until I am in a position to pay over her dowry." +</p> + +<p> +Drusus burst out into a hearty, boyish laugh. +</p> + +<p> +"My dear uncle," cried he, "for do let me call you so, I +would have you know that when I take Cornelia I have dowry +sufficient. Thanks to old Vibulanus's will, I may call +myself passing wealthy. As far as I am concerned, you +may pay over the marriage portion to my heirs, if so you +wish." +</p> + +<p> +Lentulus seemed considerably relieved. Claudia broke out +with loud ejaculations to the effect that Drusus, she always +knew, was a generous, affectionate fellow, and she loved him +dearly. Cornelia, however, looked disturbed, and presently +exclaimed:— +</p> + +<p> +"It isn't right, Quintus, that I should come into your house +with not a sesterce in my own name, as if you had married +some low farmer's daughter." +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Phy!</i> pish!" replied Drusus. "You always scold the +Greeks, my good mistress, and yet, like them, you hold that +a marriage between people of unequal means is unhappy. A +penny for your scruples! I have more money to-day than I +know what to do with. Besides, if it will make you happier, +your uncle can doubtless pay over the dowry before a great +while." +</p> + +<p> +"It's certainly very kind of you, Quintus," said Lentulus +(who had quite made up his mind that if the young man +could wait for what was a very tidy fortune, through sheer +affection for Cornelia, he would be pliable enough in the political +matter), "not to press me in this affair. Rest assured, +neither you nor my niece will be the losers in the end. But +there's one other thing I would like to ask you about. From +what Calvus told me in Rome, Curio and certain other still +worse <i>Populares</i><a name="r81" href="#fn81">[81]</a> were trying to induce you to join their +abominable faction. I trust you gave those men no encouragement?" +</p> + +<p> +Drusus was evidently confused. He was wishing strongly +that Cornelia was away, and he could talk to her uncle with +less constraint. He felt that he was treading on very dangerous +ground. +</p> + +<p> +"It is true," said he, trying painfully to answer as if the +words cost him no thought. "Antonius had met many of my +father's old comrades in Gaul, and they had sent a number of +kind messages to me. Then, too, Balbus invited me to a +dinner-party and there I met Curio, and a very pleasant time +we had. I cannot recall that they made any special efforts to +enlist me as a partisan." +</p> + +<p> +In this last, Drusus spoke truly; for he had already +thrown in his lot with the Cæsarian cause. But Lentulus +knew enough of the case to realize that he was receiving not +the whole truth but only a half; and being a man of a sharp +temper that was under very imperfect control, threw diplomacy +to the winds, and replied vehemently: "Don't +attempt to cover up your folly! I know how you have put +yourself in the power of those conspirators. Are you planning +to turn out another Catilina?" +</p> + +<p> +"My dear sir," expostulated Drusus, doing his best to retain +his outward calm, "I cannot understand of what fault I have +become guilty. Is it wrong in Rome to accept a kindly +invitation from an old family friend to a dinner? Am I +responsible for the persons the host summoned to meet me +there?" +</p> + +<p> +Drusus had been simply sparring to ward off the real point +at issue; like many persons he would not assert his convictions +and motives till fairly brought to bay. But that moment +came almost instantly. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't equivocate! <i>Mehercle!</i>" cried Lentulus, getting thoroughly +angry. "Can't you speak, except to lie and quibble +before my face? Have you joined the gang Curio is rallying +for Cæsar?" +</p> + +<p> +Drusus was losing his own patience now. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes! And we shall shortly see whether the Republic is +to be longer ruined by incompetence and corruption!" +</p> + +<p> +"Uncle! Quintus!" implored Cornelia, forcing herself +between them, and casting out of her wide-open eyes on each +a look full of distress. "Don't contend! For my sake be +friends!" +</p> + +<p> +"For your sake!" raged Lentulus, his florid face growing +redder and redder. "I will take care to keep you out of the +clutches of a man who deliberately chooses to associate with +all that is base and villanous. Until your handsome lover +throws over connections with Cæsar and his fellow-conspirators, +let him never ask for your hand!" +</p> + +<p> +"Sir," burst in Drusus, flushing with passion, "do you dare +to set at naught the will of your brother and its express commands? +Dare you withhold from me what is legally my +own?" +</p> + +<p> +"Legally?" replied Lentulus, with sharp scorn. "Don't +use that word to a consul-elect, who has the whole Senate and +Pompeius behind him. Laws are very dangerous tools for a +young man to meddle with in a case like this. You will be +wise not to resort to the courts." +</p> + +<p> +"You defy the law!" thundered Drusus, all the blood of +his fighting ancestors tingling in his veins. "Do you say that +to a Livian; to the heir of eight consuls, two censors, a master +of the horse, a dictator, and three triumphators? Shall not +<i>he</i> obtain justice?" +</p> + +<p> +"And perhaps," said Lentulus, sinking into an attitude of +irritating coldness, "you will further press your claim on the +ground that your mother was a Fabian, and the Fabii claim +the sole right to sacrifice to Hercules on the Great Altar<a name="r82" href="#fn82">[82]</a> in +the Cattle-market by the Flaminian Circus, because they are +descended from Hercules and Evander. I think the Cornelian +gens can show quite as many death-masks in its atria, and your +mock heroics will only stamp you as a very bad tragedian." +</p> + +<p> +"Uncle! Quintus!" implored Cornelia again, the tears +beginning to start from her eyes. "Cease this dreadful quarrel. +Go away until you can talk calmly." +</p> + +<p> +"Quintus Livius," shouted Lentulus, dropping the "Drusus," +a part of the name which was omitted in formal address, +"you can choose here and now. Forswear your Cæsarian +connections, or consider my niece's betrothal at an end!" +</p> + +<p> +Drusus stood looking in blank dismay from one to the other +of the little company. Claudia had started to speak, but closed, +her lips without uttering a word. Lentulus faced him, hot, +flushed, and with a cynical smile of delight, at the infliction of +mental torture, playing over his face. Cornelia had dropped +down upon a chair, buried her pretty face in her hands, and was +sobbing as if her heart would break. It was a moment Drusus +would not soon forget. The whole scene in the atrium was +stamped upon his memory; the drops of the fountain seemed +frozen in mid-air; the rioting satyr on the fresco appeared to +be struggling against the limitations of paint and plaster to +complete his bound; he saw Cornelia lift her head and begin +to address him, but what she said was drowned by the buzzing +and swirl which unsteadied the young man's entire faculties. +Drusus felt himself turning hot and cold, and in semi-faintness +he caught at a pillar, and leaned upon it. He felt +numbed mentally and physically. Then, by a mental reaction, +his strong, well-balanced nature reasserted itself. His +head cleared, his muscles relaxed their feverish tension, he +straightened himself and met the cool leer of Lentulus with a +glance stern and high; such a glance as many a Livian before +him had darted on foe in Senate or field of battle. +</p> + +<p> +"Lucius Cornelius," said he, his voice perfectly under command, +"do you propose to defy law and right and refuse me +the hand of your niece, unless I do your will?" +</p> + +<p> +Lentulus thought that in this unimpassioned speech he detected +the premonitions of a capitulation on the part of Drusus, +and with a voice of ill-timed persuasion, replied, "Be reasonable, +Drusus; you have everything to gain and nothing to lose +by not thwarting my wishes." +</p> + +<p> +"Your wishes!" retorted Drusus, with a menacing step +forward. "Your wishes! You are consul-designate. You +have the Senate, you have your tool, Pompeius, you have the +gangs of gladiators and street ruffians and all the machinery +of your political clubs to invoke to defy the law! I grant it; +but though you deny me Cornelia, though by your machinations +you bring me any other loss or shame, the grandson of +the murdered Marcus Drusus will do that which is right in his +own eyes, and accept no mandate from you or any man, against +his will!" +</p> + +<p> +"Cornelia," cried Claudia, infinitely distressed, "speak to +Quintus, reason with him, implore him, pray him not to +resist the requests of your uncle." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, girl!" said Lentulus, savagely, turning livid with +sheer rage, "use all your arts on that graceless would-be conspirator +now, or see his face no more!" +</p> + +<p> +But Cornelia interposed in a most summary and unexpected +manner. Her face was very white; her nails pressed into her +smooth arms, her breath came thick and spasmodically, and +her eyes flamed with the intense passion of a strong spirit +thoroughly aroused. +</p> + +<p> +"Go, Quintus," she cried, with a strained, loud voice, "go, +and never see my face again, until my uncle repents of his +cruel madness! He is master here; only woe will come from +defying him. Do not anger him further; depart." +</p> + +<p> +"Depart?" burst from Drusus. +</p> + +<p> +"Depart!" replied Cornelia, desperately; "if you stay I shall +go mad. I shall beg you to yield,—which would be base of me; +and if you heard my prayers, it would be more base in you." +</p> + +<p> +"Fool," shouted Lentulus, "don't you know you will be the +first I'll mark for slaughter in the next proscription? You, +mistress, go to your room, if you cannot keep a civil tongue! +And you, sir, get you gone, unless you wish the slaves to cast +you out." +</p> + +<p> +"Farewell, Cornelia!" gasped the young man; and he turned +his back, and started out into the colonnade. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Quintus, return!" shrieked Claudia, wringing her +hands. "All the gods blast you!" muttered Lentulus, quivering +with fury; then he shouted at the top of his shrill, harsh +voice: "My enemies are my enemies. You are warned. Take +care!" +</p> + +<p> +"And do you take warning! A Livian never forgets! <i>Mars +regat!</i> Let War rule!" cried Drusus, turning at the vestibule, +and brandishing a knotted fist. Lentulus stared after him, +half furious, half intimidated. But Claudia glanced back into +the room from the just emptied doorway, and gave a scream. +</p> + +<p> +"The servants! Help! Water! Cornelia has fainted!" +</p> + + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p> +Drusus strode down the long avenue of shade trees. The +gardener stared after him, as the young man went by, his face +knitted with a scowl of combined pain and fury, with never a +word in reply to the rustic's kindly salutation. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Papæ!</i>"<a name="r83" href="#fn83">[83]</a> muttered the man, "what has befallen Master +Quintus? Has he fallen out with her ladyship?" +</p> + +<p> +Drusus kept on, looking neither to the right hand nor to the +left, until he found himself past the boundary stone between +his own estate and that of the Lentuli. Then he stopped +and passed his hand over his forehead. It was damp with an +unhealthy sweat. His hands and frame were quivering as if +in an ague. He seated himself on a stone bench by the roadway, +and tried to collect his faculties. +</p> + +<p> +"Bear up, Drusus; be a Livian, as you boast yourself," he +declaimed frantically to himself. "Cornelia shall still be +yours! All things are possible to one who is young and +strong, with a clear conscience!" +</p> + +<p> +If this self-debate did not actually stimulate cheerfulness, it +at least revived the embers of hope; and Drusus found himself +trying to look the situation fairly in the face. +</p> + +<p> +"You have thrown away your right to marry the dearest, +loveliest, and noblest girl in the world," he reflected bitterly. +"You have made an implacable enemy of one of the most +powerful men of the state. In short, your happiness is gone, +and perhaps your life is in danger—and for what? A dream +of reform which can never be realized? A mad conspiracy to +overthrow the commonwealth? Is Cæsar to be saviour or +despot? For what have you sacrificed yourself?" +</p> + +<p> +Lentulus, he knew perfectly well, was really above law. +No jury would ever convict the leader of the Senate party. +Drusus could never contract lawful marriage with Cornelia, so +long as her guardian withheld consent. And for one moment +he regretted of his determination, of his defiance. Then came +reaction. Drusus called up all his innate pride, all the +strength of his nobler inspirations. +</p> + +<p> +"I have set my face toward that which is honourable and +right," cried Drusus to his own soul; "I will not doubt. +Whether there be gods, I cannot tell. But this I know, the +wise and good have counted naught dear but virtues; and +toward this end I will strive." +</p> + +<p> +And by a strong effort at self-command, he forced himself +to arise from the bench and walk back to his own estate, +and soon he was pouring the whole story into the sympathetic +ears of Mamercus, Pausanias, and other worthy retainers. +</p> + +<p> +The scene that had taken place at the villa of the Lentuli, +soon was reported through all the adjacent farms; for several +slaves had been the mute witnesses of the angry colloquy, +and had not been slow to publish the report. The familia of +Drusus was in a tumult of indignation. All the brawny Germans +and Africans whom the young master had released from +the slave-prison, and had since treated with kindness, listened +with no unfavourable ear to the proposal which Titus Mamercus—more +valorous than discreet—was laying before them: +to arm and attack Lentulus in his own villa, and so avenge +their lord in a summary fashion. +</p> + +<p> +But the elder Mamercus dashed the martial ambitions of his +son. +</p> + +<p> +"Fool," cried the veteran, emphatically, when the project +came to his ears, "do you wish to undo yourself and Quintus +too? No power short of Jove could protect you and him, if +aught were to befall Lentulus, in the way you propose." +</p> + +<p> +"But what can we do, father?" replied Titus, sorry to see +his scheme for vengeance blocked; "shall that despicable +tyrant defy law and justice, and refuse to give Mistress Cornelia +to Quintus?" +</p> + +<p> +"Silence your folly!" thundered the other, who was himself +quite nonplussed over the situation, and felt Titus's bold +chatter would goad him into something desperate. +</p> + +<p> +The truth was, neither Pausanias nor any other of Quintus's +friends could see any means of coercing the consul-elect into +receding from his position. He was practically above law, and +could not with safety be attacked in any way. Pausanias could +only counsel moderation and patience; perhaps some fortunate +chance would alter matters. Drusus spent the evening in a +pathetically forced attempt to read his Callimachus. He was +weary physically, and intended to retire early. Æmilia, who +felt sorry enough for the plight of her rather distant cousin, +had tried to console him and divert him with guitar<a name="r84" href="#fn84">[84]</a> music, +and had called in an itinerant piper,<a name="r85" href="#fn85">[85]</a> but these well-meant +efforts at amusement had been dreary failures. Drusus had +just bidden his body-servants undress him, when he was +informed that Agias had come from the Lentulan villa, and +wished to see him. +</p> + +<p> +Agias was full of protestations of delight at beholding his +intercessor and ransomer. Drusus could hardly recognize in +the supple-limbed, fair-complexioned, vivacious lad before him, +the wretched creature whom Alfidius had driven through the +streets. Agias's message was short, but quite long enough to +make Drusus's pale cheeks flush with new life, his sunken eyes +rekindle, and his languor vanish into energy. Cornelia would +be waiting for him by the great cypress in the gardens of the +Lentulan villa, as soon as the moon rose. +</p> + +<p> +Drusus prepared himself hurriedly, and refused all the +entreaties of Titus to take him along as a body-guard. Time +coursed on winged feet, as the young man hastened out into +the night, and half ran down the familiar pathway. The day +had been only moderately warm for the season, and the night +was cool, though not cold. A soft east wind was blowing +down from the distant Apennines, and all the trees were +rustling gently. Up to the giant arm of a gnarled oak, fluttered +an owl, which hooted noisily as the young man hurried beneath. +The crickets were chirping. A little way off was a small +stream plunging over a dam; from it came a liquid roar; and +the little wall of white spray was just visible in the darkness. +Out from the orchards drifted the fragrant scent of apple, +pear, plum, and quince. Still more sweet was the breeze, as it +swept over the wide-stretching rose-beds. Overhead Orion and +Arcturus were glittering in that hazy splendour which belongs +to the heavens on a summer's night. +</p> + +<p> +Drusus kept on, only half noting the beauty of the darkness. +When he entered the groves of the Lentulan villa, almost all +light failed him, and but for his intimate knowledge—from +boyhood—of the whole locality, he could never have kept the +path. Then the moonlight began to stream up in the east, +and between the trees and thickets lay the long, yellow bars of +brightness, while all else was still in gloom. Drusus pushed +on with confidence, and soon the gurgle of the tiny cataract +told him that he was near the old cypress. A few steps more, +and a figure rose from out the fern thicket. It was Cornelia. +Her hair was tumbling loosely over her shoulders; she wore +a soft, light-blue dress that covered her arms and her feet. +In the moonlight her face and hands appeared as bloodless as +white marble. +</p> + +<p> +"I knew you would come, Quintus," she cried. "I couldn't +say farewell to you, in the presence of my uncle!" +</p> + +<p> +"My beautiful!" cried Drusus; and he caught her in his +arms. +</p> + +<p> +The moments that followed were as bitter-sweet as may be +conceivable. Each knew that they had small hope of an +honourable realization of their love one for another; that the +moment of parting would soon come. But for the instant +they were in Elysium, caught out of mortal care and mortal +sorrow, and knowing nothing but the pure delight of the +other's presence. Then, at last, their talk became less enraptured; +the vision of Olympus faded little by little; the stern +reality confronted them in all its seriousness. +</p> + +<p> +"Cornelia," said Quintus, at length, "you are still a very +young woman. This day's heart-breakings may, perhaps, be +long painful to you; but the pangs will grow faint in time. +You and I may still cherish fondness in our hearts for each +other, but how dare we reasonably hope for more? Evil times +are at hand. If your uncle's party prevail in the struggle, my +ruin is assured. But not yours. There are many worthy men +who would be proud to take in marriage the niece of the next +consul; and with one of these you can live happily. Do not +try to forget me. I don't ask that. But do not let my misfortune +cast a shadow over your dear life. Marry some honourable +man. Only think kindly of me sometimes." +</p> + +<p> +They had been sitting beside the brooklet, on the soft +green-sward. Cornelia had been resting both her hands in Drusus's, +but now she drew them back, and sprang to her feet, as if +swept away by a gust of anger. +</p> + +<p> +"How dare you!" she cried, "how dare you bid me throw +away all that my heart has turned on, and my hopes depended +on, and my imagination dreamed of, since our fathers were +slain side by side; and more especially since you came back +from Athens? Why might not I bid you renounce your adherence +to Cæsar's cause, and say, 'There is no need of blasting +your career by such a sacrifice; remember Cæsar and his party +kindly, wish them well, but do not dwell too much thereon; +submit cheerfully to what is inevitable'? Shall I argue thus? +Have I argued thus? If you will, abandon me, and wed some +other maiden, and many there are, fair, wealthy, noble, who +will be glad to be given in marriage to a Livius Drusus. But +till you thus repudiate your father's will, no power of gods or +of men shall drive me to violate that of mine." +</p> + +<p> +"Cornelia," said Drusus, in a husky voice, "do you know +what you are saying? What resistance to threats and unkind +treatment your resolve will mean?" +</p> + +<p> +"I both know the future and accept it," answered the maiden +firmly, looking fairly into his face. +</p> + +<p> +"Then by all the powers of earth, sky, and Hades!" cried +the young man, lifting one arm toward heaven, and throwing +the other about his sweetheart, "I will defy Lentulus, defy +Pompeius, defy Senate, army, mob, or any other human might. +Hitherto I have thought to play the patriot in espousing +Cæsar's cause. Now let love and fury fire my ardour. When +the party of violence and tyranny falls, then too will fall the +power of Lentulus to outrage your right and mine! Ours shall +be a triumph of Venus as well as of Mars, and until that time, +may you and I endure faithful unto our fathers, ourselves, and +one another!" +</p> + +<p> +Hardly had he spoken ere loud voices were heard calling +through the grove. Torches were glaring among the trees, and +the harsh tones of Lentulus burst out:— +</p> + +<p> +"Take the wretched girl into the house when you find her; +but as for her lover, let him not escape!" +</p> + +<p> +"My uncle!" groaned Cornelia, quivering with terror; "one +of my maids has betrayed me! Flee! run! He has called +out all his slaves; they will kill you!" +</p> + +<p> +"Kill me?" gasped Drusus, incredulously; "commit deliberate +murder?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," moaned Cornelia; "he dares anything. He is all +fury and violence. Escape! Do not throw yourself away in +vain!" +</p> + +<p> +The lights flashed nearer; the slaves were shouting and +blundering through the bushes. +</p> + +<p> +"Two philippi to the man who strikes Drusus down!" +bawled Lentulus. +</p> + +<p> +It was no time for delay and affectionate leave-taking. The +young man threw his arms around Cornelia, kissed her once, +twice, and then bounded into the thicket. A moment later +several of the servants came splashing over the little stream, +and found Cornelia alone beside the great cypress, pale and +trembling and sobbing. Drusus caught one last sight of her, +surrounded by the torches of the pursuers. Then he struck +off into the grove, and thanks to his perfect local knowledge +easily avoided meeting Lentulus or his slaves. Lentulus he +would gladly have confronted alone. What would have followed, +the athletic young man could only surmise grimly; but +he was unarmed, and for Cornelia's sake he must take no risks. +</p> + +<p> +Close to the confines of his own land he met the Mamerci, +father and son, and several slaves and freedmen, all armed +and anxious to know whether the din that had been raised over +at the Lentulan villa betokened any danger to their young +master. +</p> + +<p> +Drusus satisfied them that he had suffered no injury. The +personal peril through which he had passed brought a reaction +of excitement which raised his spirits, and he went to bed in +a mood at least tolerably cheerful. If he could not enjoy his +love, he had at least something else to live for—vengeance; +and he told himself that he had a whole mature lifetime left +in which to make Lentulus repent of his folly and tyrannical +cruelty. He awoke late the next morn in a calm frame of mind, +and was able to receive with outward equanimity the news +that early in the morning Lentulus had taken his sister-in-law +and niece, and a large part of his household, back to Rome. +This was only to have been expected, and Drusus listened to +the information without useless comment. +</p> + + + + + +<h2 id="ch6">CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<h2>POMPEIUS MAGNUS</h2> + + +<p> +If we had been painting an ideal heroine, gifted with all +the virtues which Christian traditions of female perfection +throw around such characters, Cornelia would have resigned +herself quietly to the inevitable, and exhibited a seraphic +serenity amid tribulation. But she was only a grieved, +embittered, disappointed, sorely wronged, Pagan maiden, who +had received few enough lessons in forbearance and meekness. +And now that her natural sweetness of character had received +so severe a shock, she vented too often the rage she felt +against her uncle upon her helpless servants. Her maid +Cassandra—who was the one that had told Lentulus of her +mistress's nocturnal meeting with Drusus—soon felt the +weight of Cornelia's wrath. The young lady, as soon as +Lentulus was out of the way, caused the tell-tale to receive +a cruel whipping, which kept the poor slave-girl groaning in +her cell for ten days, and did not relieve Cornelia's own distress +in the slightest degree. As a matter of fact, Cornelia +was perpetually goaded into fresh outbursts of desperation +by the tyrannical attitude of her uncle. Lentulus boasted in +her presence that he would accomplish Drusus's undoing. +"I'll imitate Sulla," he would announce, in mean pleasure at +giving his niece pain; "I'll see how many heads I can have +set up as he did at the Lacus Servilius. You can go <i>there</i>, +if you wish to kiss your lover." +</p> + +<p> +But Cornelia's life at Rome was rendered unhappy by many +other things besides these occasional brutal stabs from her +uncle. Her mother, as has been hinted, was a woman of the +world, and had an intense desire to draw her daughter into +her own circle of society. Claudia cared for Cornelia in a +manner, and believed it was a real kindness to tear the poor +girl away from her solitary broodings and plunge her into the +whirl of the world of Roman fashion. Claudia had become +an intimate of Clodia, the widow of Quintus Metellus, a +woman of remarkable gifts and a notoriously profligate character. +"The Medea of the Palatine Hill," Cicero had bitingly +styled her. Nearly all the youth of parts and social distinction +enjoyed the wild pleasures of Clodia's garden by the +Tiber. Catullus the poet, Cælius the brilliant young politician, +and many another had figured as lovers of this soulless +and enchanting woman. And into Clodia's gilded circle +Claudia tried desperately to drag her daughter. The Lentuli +had a handsome palace on the Carinæ, one of the most fashionable +quarters of the capital; and here there were many +gay gatherings and dinner parties. Cornelia was well born +enough, by reputation wealthy enough, and in feature handsome +enough, to have a goodly proportion of the young men +of this coterie her devoted admirers and slaves. Claudia +observed her daughter's social triumphs with glee, and did all +she could to give Cornelia plenty of this kind of company. +Cornelia would not have been a mortal woman if she had not +taken a certain amount of pleasure in noticing and exercising +her power. The first occasion when she appeared at a formal +banquet in the splendid Apollo dinner hall of the Luculli, +where the outlay on the feast was fixed by a regular scale at +two hundred thousand sesterces, she gathered no little satisfaction +by the consciousness that all the young men were +admiring her, and all the women were fuming with jealousy. +But this life was unspeakably wearisome, after the first +novelty had worn away. Cornelia lived in an age when many +of the common proprieties and decencies of our present society +would have been counted prudish, but she could not close her +eyes to the looseness and license that pervaded her mother's +world. Woman had become almost entirely independent of +man in social and economic matters, though the law still kept +its fictions of tutelage. Honourable marriages were growing +fewer and fewer. Divorces were multiplying. The morality +of the time can be judged from the fact that the "immaculate" +Marcus Cato separated from his wife that a friend might marry +her; and when the friend died, married her himself again. +Scandals and love intrigues were common in the highest +circles; noble ladies, and not ballet-dancers<a name="r86" href="#fn86">[86]</a> merely, thought +it of little account to have their names besmirched. Everything +in society was splendid, polished, decorous, cultivated +without; but within, hollow and rotten. +</p> + +<p> +Cornelia grew weary and sick of the excitement, the fashionable +chatter, the mongering of low gossips. She loathed +the sight of the effeminate young fops who tried to win +her smiles by presenting themselves for a polite call each +morning, polished and furbelowed, and rubbed sleek and +smooth with Catanian pumice. Her mother disgusted her so +utterly that she began to entertain the most unfilial feeling +toward the worthy woman. Cornelia would not or could not +understand that in such hot weather it was proper to wear +lighter rings than in winter, and that each ring must be set +carefully on a different finger joint to prevent touching. +Cornelia watched her servants, and reached the astonishing +conclusion that these humble creatures were really extracting +more pleasure out of life than herself. Cassandra had +recovered from her whipping, and was bustling about her +tasks as if nothing had happened. Agias seemed to have a +never failing fund of good spirits. He was always ready to +tell the funniest stories or retail the latest news. Once or +twice he brought his mistress unspeakable delight, by smuggling +into the house letters from Drusus, which contained +words of love and hope, if no really substantial promises for +the future. But this was poor enough comfort. Drusus wrote +that he could not for the time see that any good end would be +served by coming to Rome, and he would remain for the +present in Præneste. He and she must try to wait in patience, +until politics took such a turn as would drive Lentulus into +a more tractable attitude. Cornelia found the days monotonous +and dreary. Her uncle's freedman kept her under constant +espionage to prevent a chance meeting with Drusus, and +but for Agias she would have been little better than a prisoner, +ever in charge of his keepers. +</p> + +<p> +In a way, however, Cornelia found that there was enough +stirring in the outside world to lend zest and often venom +to the average emptiness of polite conversation. Politics +were penetrating deeper and deeper into fashionable society. +Cornelia heard how Paulus, the consul, had taken a large +present from Cæsar to preserve neutrality; and how Curio, the +tribune, had checked Clodius Marcellus, the other consul, +when he wished to take steps in the Senate against Cæsar. +All that Cornelia heard of that absent statesman was from +hostile lips; consequently she had him painted to her as +blood-thirsty, treacherous, of flagrant immorality, with his +one object to gather a band of kindred spirits to his cause, +and become despot. And to hear such reports and yet to +keep confident that Drusus was not sacrificing both himself +and her in a worse than unworthy cause—this tested her to +the uttermost. +</p> + +<p> +To add to her troubles, Lucius Ahenobarbus was ever thrusting +in his attentions at every party and at the theatre; and +her uncle openly favoured his suit. +</p> + +<p> +"I wish you would be more friendly to him," remarked +Lentulus on one occasion. "I should be glad to have a closer +tie between his family and ours." +</p> + +<p> +"Uncle," said Cornelia, much distressed, "I do not think I +understand what you mean." +</p> + +<p> +"Well," chuckled Lentulus, moving away, "think it over +until you do understand." +</p> + +<p> +Cornelia had been reading in the library when this conversation +took place. There was to be another party that evening +at the house of Marcus Favonius, a prominent anti-Cæsarian, +and since it was growing late in the afternoon, it was time to +dress. Cornelia went into her own room, and was summoning +her maids, when a young lady of about her own age, who +affected to be on terms of considerable intimacy, was announced—Herennia, +a daughter of a certain rich old eques, Caius +Pontius, who had kept out of politics and hoarded money, +which his daughter was doing her best to spend. +</p> + +<p> +Herennia was already dressed for the party. Her brown +hair had been piled up in an enormous mass on her head, eked +out by false tresses and puffings, and the whole plentifully +powdered with gold dust. She wore a prodigious number of +gaudily set rings; her neck and ears and girdle were ablaze +with gold and jewels. So far from aiming, as do modern +ladies, to reduce the waist to the slenderest possible proportions, +Herennia, who was actually quite thin, had carefully +padded out her form to proper dimensions, and showed this +fact by her constrained motions. She was rouged and painted, +and around her floated an incense of a thousand and one rare +perfumes. Her amethystine tunic and palla were of pure +silk—then literally worth its weight in gold—and embroidered +with an elaborate pattern in which pearls and other gems +played a conspicuous part. For all this display of extravagance, +Herennia was of only very mediocre beauty; and it was +on this account that she was always glad to make uncomfortable +flings at her "dear friend" Cornelia, whenever possible. +</p> + +<p> +Herennia seated herself on a divan, and proceeded to plunge +into all the flying gossip of the day. Incidentally she managed +to hint that Servius Maccus, her devoted admirer, had +told her that the night before Lucius Ahenobarbus and some +of his friends had attacked and insulted a lady on her way +back from a late dinner.<a name="r87" href="#fn87">[87]</a> +</p> + +<p> +"The outrageous scapegrace!" cried Cornelia, while her +maids hurried along a toilet which, if not as elaborate as +Herennia's, took some little time. "I imagined he might do +such things! I always detested him!" +</p> + +<p> +"Then you are not so very fond of Lucius Ahenobarbus," +said Herennia, raising her carefully painted eyebrows, as if +in astonishment. "I am really a little surprised." +</p> + +<p> +"Surprised?" reëchoed Cornelia. "What have I done or +said that makes Lucius Ahenobarbus anything more than a +very distant, a <i>very</i> distant acquaintance?" +</p> + +<p> +"My dear girl," exclaimed Herennia, throwing up her +hands, "either you are the best actress, or the most innocent +little wight, in Rome! Don't you know all that they say about +you?" +</p> + +<p> +"Who—say—what—about—me?" stammered Cornelia, +rising in her chair so suddenly, as to disarrange all the work +Cassandra had been doing on her hair. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, everybody," said Herennia, smiling with an exasperating +deliberation. "And then it has all come out in the +daily gazette."<a name="r88" href="#fn88">[88]</a> +</p> + +<p> +"Where is it? Read! Let me see," pleaded Cornelia, +agitated and trembling. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, how troubled you are," giggled Herennia. "Yes, I +have my freedman copy down the whole bulletin every day, +as soon as it is posted by the censor's officers; now let me +see," and she produced from under her robe a number of +wooden, wax-covered tablets, strung together: "the last prætor's +edict; the will of old Publius Blæsus;" and she ran over +the headings with maddening slowness: "the speech in the +Senate of Curio—what an impudent rascal; the money paid +yesterday into the treasury,—how dull to copy all that +down!—the meteor which fell over in Tibur, and was such a +prodigy; oh, yes, here it is at last; you may as well hear +what all Rome knows now, it's at the end, among the private +affairs. 'Lucius Ahenobarbus, son of Lucius Domitius, the +Consular, and Cornelia, daughter of the late tribune, Caius +Lentulus, are in love. They will be married soon.'" +</p> + +<p> +These two brief sentences, which the mechanical difficulties +under which journalistic enterprise laboured at that day made +it impossible to expand into a modern "article," were quite +sufficient to tell a whole story to Rome. Cornelia realized +instantly that she had been made the victim of some vile +trick, which she doubted not her would-be lover and her +uncle had executed in collusion. She took the tablets from +Herennia's hand, without a word, read the falsehoods once, +twice, thrice. The meaning of the day attached to the terms +used intimated the existence of a low intrigue, quite as much +as any honourable "engagement." If Cornelia did not soon +become the lawful wife of Lucius Ahenobarbus, the world +would feel justified in piling scandal upon her name. The +blow was numbing in its brutality. Instead of crying and +execrating the liars, as Herennia fully expected her to do, +Cornelia merely handed back the tablets, and said with cold +dignity, "I think some very unfortunate mistake has been +made. Lucius Ahenobarbus is no friend of mine. Will you +be so kind as to leave me with my maids?" +</p> + +<p> +Herennia was overborne by the calm, commanding attitude +of the rival she had meant to annoy. When Cornelia became +not the radiant <i>debutante</i>, but the haughty patrician lady, +there was that about her which made her wish a mandate. +Herennia, in some confusion, withdrew. When she was gone, +Cornelia ordered her maids out of the room, stripped off the +golden tiara they had been plaiting into her hair, tore away +the rings, bracelets, necklaces, and flung herself upon the +pillows of the divan, quivering with sobs. She did not know +of a single friend who could help her. All the knowledge +that she had imbibed taught her that there was no God either +to hear prayer, or succour the wronged. Her name would +become a laughing-stock and a hissing, to be put on a par +with Clodia's or that of any other frivolous woman, unless she +not merely gave up the man she loved, but also threw herself +into the arms of the man she utterly hated. The craving for +any respite was intense. She was young; but for the moment, +at least, life had lost every glamour. If death was an endless +sleep, why not welcome it as a blessed release? The idea of +suicide had a grasp on the ancient world which it is hard at +first to estimate. A healthy reaction might have stirred +Cornelia out of her despair, but at that instant the impulse +needed to make her commit an irrevocable deed must have +been very slight. But while she lay on the pillows, wretched +and heart-sick, the voice of Agias was heard without, bidding +the maids admit him to their mistress. +</p> + +<p> +"Stay outside. I can't see you now," moaned poor Cornelia, +feeling that for once the sight of the good-humoured, +vivacious slave-boy would be maddening. But Agias thrust +back the curtains and boldly entered. What he said will be +told in its due time and place; but the moment he had gone +Cornelia was calling in Cassandra, and ordering the maids to +dress her with all possible speed for the dinner-party. +</p> + +<p> +"I must be all smiles, all enchantments," she was saying to +herself. "I must dissemble. I must win confidences. I must +do everything, and anything. I have no right to indulge in +grief any longer. Quintus's dear life is at stake!" +</p> + + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p> +Lentulus did not go to the banquet of Favonius, to see the +unwonted graciousness with which his niece received the +advances of Lucius Ahenobarbus, Neither was Favonius himself +present at his own entertainment. They, and several +others of the high magnates of their party, had been called +away by an urgent summons, and spent the evening in secluded +conference with no less a personage than Pompeius, or as he +dearly loved to be called, "the Magnus," in his splendid palace +outside the walls on the Campus Martius. And here the +conqueror of Mithridates—a stout, soldierly man of six-and-fifty, +whose best quality was a certain sense of financial honesty, +and whose worst an extreme susceptibility to the grossest +adulation—told them that he had received letters from +Labienus, Cæsar's most trusted lieutenant in Gaul, declaring +that the proconsul's troops would never fight for him, that +Cæsar would never be able to stir hand or foot against the +decrees of the Senate, and that he, Labienus, would desert +him at the first opportunity. +</p> + +<p> +Cheerful news this to the noble lords, who had for years +scented in Cæsar's existence and prosperity destruction to +their own oligarchic rule of almost the known world. But +when Cato, the most violent anti-Cæsarian of them all, a +sharp, wiry man with angular features, and keen black eyes, +demanded:— +</p> + +<p> +"And now, Magnus, you will not hesitate to annihilate the +enemies of the Republic?" a look of pained indecision flitted +across Pompeius's face. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Perpol</i>, gentlemen," he exclaimed, "I would that I were +well out of this. Sometimes I think that you are leading me +into breaking with Cæsar for some ends of your own. He +was my friend before you had a word of praise for me. He +loved Julia; so did I." And the Magnus paused a moment, +overcome by the thought of his dead wife. "Perhaps the +Republic demands his sacrifice, perhaps—" and he cast a +glance half of menace upon Lentulus Crus and Cato, "you are +the guilty, not he. But I am in grievous doubt." +</p> + +<p> +"Perhaps, Magnus," said Favonius, with half a sneer, +"you think your forces inadequate. The two legions at +Luceria are just detached from Cæsar. Perhaps you question +their fidelity." +</p> + +<p> +"Man," retorted the general, fiercely, bringing his foot down +upon the soft rug on the floor, "I have but to stamp upon the +ground to call up legions out of Italy; it is not that which I +fear!" +</p> + +<p> +The members of the conference looked uneasy; there was +still a bare chance that Pompeius would go back to his old +friendship with Cæsar. +</p> + +<p> +"Gentlemen," went on the Magnus, "I have called you +here to reach a final decision—peace or war. Let us consult +a higher power than human." And he touched a little silver +bell that was upon the table close at hand. +</p> + +<p> +Forthwith there was a rustle of curtains, and out of the gloom +of the doorway—for the hour was now very late—advanced +a tall, gaunt figure, dressed in a plain, sleeveless robe that fell +to the feet. The skin was dry, hard, wrinkled by a hundred +furrows; the bones of the face were thrust out prominently; +on the head was a plain white turban, and a beard quite as +white fell down upon the breast. Only from under the turban +shone the eyes, which were bright and piercing as coals of fire. +</p> + +<p> +The stranger advanced without a word, till he stood before +Pompeius, then knelt and made an elaborate Oriental prostration. +The noble Romans, twelve or more of the magnates of +the greatest power on the earth, held their breath in uneasy anticipation. +Not one of them perhaps really believed in a personal +god; but though atheists, they could not forswear their +superstition. Piso, the censor, who notoriously feared neither +divine nor human law in his reckless life, spat thrice to ward +off the effects of the evil eye, if the stranger were a magician. +</p> + +<p> +"Ulamhala," said Pompeius, addressing the newcomer, +"arise. Since I have been in the East,<a name="r89" href="#fn89">[89]</a> I have consulted +you and your science of the stars, in every intended step, and +your warnings have never failed." +</p> + +<p> +"My lord doth overcommend the wisdom of his slave," +replied Ulamhala (for such was his name) in Syriac Greek, +with a second deep obeisance. +</p> + +<p> +"Now, therefore," went on Pompeius—and his voice was +unsteady with evident excitement and anxiety,—"I have +called you hither to declare the warnings of the stars upon +the most important step of my life. What lies now at stake, +you know full well. Three days ago I bade you consult the +heavens, that this night you might be able to declare their +message, not merely to me, but to these my friends, who will +shape their actions by mine. Have you a response from the +planets?" +</p> + +<p> +"I have, lord," and again Ulamhala salaamed. +</p> + +<p> +"Then declare, be it good or ill;" commanded Pompeius, +and he gripped the arms of his chair to conceal his anxiety. +</p> + +<p> +The scene was in a way weird enough. The visitors exchanged +uneasy glances, and Cato, who broke out in some silly +remark to Favonius, in a bold attempt to interrupt the +oppressive silence, suddenly found his words growing thick +and broken, and he abruptly became silent. Each man present +tried to tell himself that Pompeius was a victim of superstition, +but every individual felt an inward monition that +something portentous was about to be uttered. +</p> + +<p> +The conference had lasted long. The lamps were flickering +low. Dark shadows were loitering in every corner of the +room. The aroma of flowers from the adjacent gardens floated +in at the open windows, and made the hot air drugged and +heavy. Ulamhala slowly and noiseless as a cat stepped to +the window, and, leaning out over the marble railing, looked +up into the violet-black heavens. There was no moon, but a +trembling flame on one of the candelabras threw a dull, ruddy +glow over his white dress and snowy turban. His face was +hid in the gloom, but the others knew, though they could +hardly see, that he was pointing upward with his right hand. +</p> + +<p> +"Behold," began the astrologer, "three thousand seven +hundred and fifty years since the days of the great Sargon of +Agade have we of the race of the Chaldeans studied the stars. +One generation of watchers succeeded another, scanning the +heavens nightly from our <i>ziggurats</i>,<a name="r90" href="#fn90">[90]</a> and we have learned the +laws of the constellations; the laws of Sin the moon, the laws +of Samas the sun, the laws of the planets, the laws of the +fixed stars. Their motions and their influence on the affairs +of men our fathers discovered, and have handed their wisdom +down to us." +</p> + +<p> +"But the word of the stars to <i>us</i>?" broke in Pompeius, in +extreme disquietude, and trying to shake off the spell that +held him in mastery. +</p> + +<p> +"Know, lord, that thy slave has not been disobedient unto +thy commandment. Look, yonder burneth a bright red planet, +called by us Nergal, which ye Westerns call by the name of +Mars. Who denieth that when Mars shines in the heavens, +war will break forth among men? Know that I have carefully +compared the settings, risings, and movements of the +planets at this season with their settings, risings, and movements +at the time when my lord was born; and also at the +time of the birth of his great enemy. I have made use of the +tables which my wise predecessors among the Chaldees have +prepared; and which I myself, thy slave, copied from those +at the Temple of Bel, in Babylon." +</p> + +<p> +"And they say?" breathlessly interrupted Lentulus. +</p> + +<p> +"This is the message from the planets," and Ulamhala's +form grew higher, his voice firmer; he raised his long bony +arms above his head, and stood in the dull light like a skeleton +arisen in all its white grave clothes to convey a warning to the +living. "To the Lord Pompeius, this is the warning, and to +his enemy, +</p> + + +<blockquote> +<p> +"'<i>He that is highest shall rise yet higher;<br /> +He that is second shall utterly fall!</i>' +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +I have said." +</p> + +<p> +And before the noble Romans could command the free play +of their senses, the vision at the window had vanished, either +out of doors, or behind some doorway or curtain. The company +sat gazing uneasily at each other for several minutes. +The Magnus was breathing heavily, as though he had passed +through a terrible mental ordeal. Cato, the Stoic and ascetic, +had his eyes riveted on the carpet, and his face was as stony +as an Egyptian Colossus. +</p> + +<p> +Then a coarse forced laugh from Piso broke the spell. +</p> + +<p> +"Capital, Pompeius! You <i>are</i> a favourite of the gods!" +</p> + +<p> +"I?" ventured the Magnus, moving his lips slowly. +</p> + +<p> +"Of course," cried several voices at once, catching the cue +from Piso. "You are the first in the world, Cæsar the second! +You are to rise to new glories, and Cæsar is to utterly fall!" +</p> + +<p> +"The stars have said it, gentlemen," said Pompeius, solemnly; +"Cæsar shall meet his fate. Let there be war." +</p> + + +<hr /> + +<p> +Lentulus Crus rode away from the conference, his litter +side by side with that of Lucius Domitius Ahenobarbus, the +consular, whom we will know as Domitius to distinguish from +his son and namesake. Domitius, a handsome, highly polished, +vigorous, but none the less unprincipled man, who was +just reaching the turn of years, was in high spirits. No +oligarch hated Cæsar more violently than he, and the decision +of Pompeius was a great personal triumph, the crowning of +many years of political intrigue. What Pompeius had said, +he had said; and Cæsar, the great foe of the Senate party, +was a doomed man. +</p> + +<p> +Lentulus had a question to ask his companion. +</p> + +<p> +"Would you care to consider a marriage alliance between +the Lentuli and the Domitii?" was his proposition. +</p> + +<p> +"I should be rejoiced and honoured to have the opportunity," +was the reply; and then in another tone Domitius +added, "Lentulus, do you believe in astrologers?" +</p> + +<p> +"I do not really know," answered the other, uneasily. +</p> + +<p> +"Neither do I," continued Domitius. "But suppose the +stars speak truly; and suppose," and here his voice fell, "it +is Cæsar who is highest in power, in ability, in good fortune;—what +then for Pompeius? for us?" +</p> + +<p> +"Be silent, O prophet of evil!" retorted Lentulus, laughing, +but not very naturally. +</p> + + + + + +<h2 id="ch7">CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<h2>AGIAS'S ADVENTURE</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p> +Pisander's view of life became a score of shades more +rosy when he seized the hand of the handsome slave-boy, +then embraced him, and began praising the gods for preserving +his favourite's life. Then the worthy philosopher +recollected that his wisdom taught him there were no gods, +and he plunged into a rambling explanation of his position, +which would have lasted forever, unless Agias had cut +him short with a merry gibe, and told him that he must +positively come to a tavern and enjoy at least one beaker of +good Massic in memory of old friendship. And Pisander, +whose spareness of living arose more from a lack of means +than from a philosophic aversion to food and good cheer, +was soon seated on a bench in one of the cheap restaurants<a name="r91" href="#fn91">[91]</a> +that abounded in the city, balancing a very large goblet, and +receiving a volley of questions which Agias was discharging +about Valeria's eccentricities, Calatinus's canvass, Arsinoë, +Semiramis, and the rest of the household of which he had +been a member. +</p> + +<p> +"But you haven't told me, Agias," finally interrupted the +poor philosopher, who had been struggling in turn to satisfy +his curiosity, "how you are here, and not—ugh! I hate to +think of it—feeding the dogs and the crows." +</p> + +<p> +Agias's face grew grave while he gave the story of his +release by the Vestal, and subsequent transfer of ownership. +</p> + +<p> +"What was the name of the young man who purchased +you, eh?" interpolated Pisander. "I didn't get it." +</p> + +<p> +"Quintus Livius Drusus," replied Agias. +</p> + +<p> +"Who?" cried the philosopher, starting up. +</p> + +<p> +"Quintus Drusus, of Præneste," repeated the other. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Ai! Ai!</i> In the name of Zeus!" cried Pisander, dropping +the beaker, and spilling the wine all over his threadbare himation. +"Oh, such a plot! Such a crime! Was ever anything so +villanous ever heard of before!" +</p> + +<p> +"My dear Pisander," exclaimed Agias, all amazement, "what +<i>is</i> the matter? Your speech is as obscure as Cinna's<a name="r92" href="#fn92">[92]</a> poem +called 'Zmyrna,' which I've heard was ten years in being +written, and must be very fine, because no one can understand +it. No more can I fathom you." +</p> + +<p> +"What a stroke of fortune!" raved the philosopher. +"How we will be revenged on that rascal, Pratinas! O +Destiny, thy decrees are just!" +</p> + +<p> +Again Agias expostulated, and at last brought out of +Pisander a tolerably coherent account of the conversation +which he had heard between Valeria and Pratinas. Then, +indeed, the merry slave-boy was troubled. Accustomed to a +rather limited ambition in life, he had attached himself with +implicit devotion to Cornelia; first because his preserver, +Drusus, had so enjoined him, and second because each day +he grew more drawn to her personally. The peril which +yawned before the unfortunate Drusus menaced at the same +time the happiness of his mistress and his own welfare,—for +if Lucius Ahenobarbus had his way, Agias himself would +become the slave of that not very gentle patrician. Cornelia +and Drusus had had troubles enough before; but in the present +crisis, actual destruction stared Agias's saviour in the face. +The situation was maddening, was sickening. Agias wrung +his hands in anguish. Then came the healthy reaction. +Drusus was still alive and well. He could be warned. The +plot could be thwarted. Pratinas and Ahenobarbus were +not yet beyond the reach of retribution. He—Agias—was +no longer to be a mere foot-boy and lackey; he was to match +his keen Greek wits in subtle intrigue against foemen worthy +of his steel. He would save Drusus's life, would save Cornelia's +happiness. If he succeeded, who knew but that his +owner would reward him—would give him freedom. And +with a natural rebound of spirits, Agias's eyes glittered with +expectation and excitement, his cheeks flushed, his form +expanded to a manly height. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Euge!</i> Well done, old friend!" he cried, with the merriment +of intense excitement. "No matter if you say you +were only able to hear a small part of what our dear fellow-Hellene, +Pratinas, told Valeria. I have gathered enough to +defeat the plotters. Leave all to me. If you learn anything +new, send word to the house of Lentulus Crus, and ask to see +me. And now I must forsake this pleasant wine untasted, and +hurry away. My mistress will bless you, and perhaps there +will be some reward." +</p> + +<p> +And leaving the bewildered Pisander to wipe the wine +from his dress, Agias had darted out of the tavern, and was +lost in the hurly-burly of the cattle-market. +</p> + +<p> +How Agias had forced his way into Cornelia's presence we +have related. The young Greek had stated his unpleasant +intelligence as diplomatically and guardedly as possible; but +Cornelia had borne this shock—following so soon upon one +sufficiently cruel—grievously enough. After all, she was only +a girl—perhaps more mature for her years than the average +maiden of her age of to-day, but almost friendless, hopeless, +and beset with many trials. And this new one was almost +more than she could bear. We have said that to her suicide +had but just before appeared a refuge to be desired; but to +have Quintus die, to have him taken out of that life that ought +to be so fair for him, no matter how darksome it was for her; +to have him never realize her ambition that he become a +statesman, warrior, philosopher, in short her ideal hero—this +was unbearable! This phase of the question was so +overpowering that she forgot to feel rage against Ahenobarbus +and his wily ally. Cornelia threw herself down upon the +floor, and cried to Agias to slay her quickly. She did not +care to live; she could endure no more. +</p> + +<p> +Agias here manifested exquisite tact. Instead of attempting +any ordinary means of expostulation, he pleaded with her +not to give way to despair; that Drusus was not yet at the +mercy of his enemies; that she, if she would, could do an +infinite deal to assist him. +</p> + +<p> +"I save Quintus?" questioned Cornelia, with white, quivering +lips. +</p> + +<p> +"You can do much, my lady," replied Agias, kindly taking +her by the hand, and with gentle pressure forcing her to +sit on the divan. "You can do what neither I, nor Pisander, +nor any one else can accomplish. You can make Lucius +Ahenobarbus betray his own plot. You, and you only, can +penetrate the final plans of the conspirators. Therefore be +strong, and do not despair." +</p> + +<p> +"I? What can <i>I</i> do?" cried Cornelia, staring at him with +sad, tearless eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"Lady Cornelia," said Agias, delicately, "Drusus would +never receive back his life if it were to be purchased by any sacrifice +of honour on your part. But this is not needed. Lucius +Ahenobarbus—forgive my plain speech—worships the ground +whereon you tread. A smile from you raises him to Olympus; a +compliment from you makes him feel himself a god; a soft word +from you creates him the peer of Zeus. Lady, I know you hate +that man; but for Master Drusus's sake make Ahenobarbus believe +that you are not indifferent to his advances. Slander +Drusus before him. Complain of the provisions of your +father's will that, despite your uncle's intention, will make it +difficult to avoid a hateful marriage. If in the past you have +been cold to Ahenobarbus, grow gracious; but not too rapidly. +Finally, at the proper time, do not hesitate to urge him to commit +the act we know he is meditating. Then he will make you +a full partner of his plot, and Pratinas and he can be permanently +thwarted." +</p> + +<p> +"You say that Drusus can be saved by this?" asked Cornelia, +steadying herself as she rose from the divan; +</p> + +<p> +"I will warn him at once," replied Agias. "Any premature +attempt on his life will certainly fail. But it is not Ahenobarbus +that I fear; it is Pratinas. Pratinas, if baffled once, will only +be spurred on to use all his cunning in a second trial. We +must enmesh the conspirators so completely that when their +stab is parried, not merely will their power to repeat it be gone, +but they themselves will be in danger of retribution. And for +this, some one must be confederate to their final plan." +</p> + +<p> +"Agias," said Cornelia, quietly, "Quintus said that you would +be a faithful servant to him and to myself. I believe he was +right. You have asked a great thing of me, Agias. I would +not do it unless I believed that you were unlike other slaves. +I might imagine that Lucius Ahenobarbus had bribed you to +tell me this story, in order that I should put myself in his power. +But I trust you. I will do anything you say. For you Hellenes +have wits as keen as sharp steel, and I know that you will +do all you may to repay your debt to Quintus." +</p> + +<p> +Agias knelt down and kissed the robe of his mistress. "My +lady," he said gently, "it is no grievous thing to be a slave of +such as you. Believe me; I will not betray my trust. And now +if you can let me leave you, I will hurry to Præneste, and for +the present our minds may be at rest. For old Mamercus will, +I am sure, be able to take good care of Master Drusus for yet +awhile." +</p> + +<p> +"Go, and the gods—if there be gods—go with you!" replied +Cornelia. Agias kissed her robe a second time, and was +gone. His mistress stood in the middle of the empty room. +On the wall facing her was a painting of "Aphrodite rising from +the Foam," which Drusus had given her. The sensuous smiles +on the face of the goddess sickened Cornelia, as she looked upon +it. To her, at the moment, laughter was more hideous than any +sobbing. Outside the door she heard the gay, witless chatter +of the maids and the valets. They were happy—they—slaves, +"speaking tools,"—and she with the blood of the Claudii +and Cornelii in her veins, a patrician among patricians, the +niece of a consul-elect, a woman who was the heiress of statesmen +and overturners of kingdoms,—<i>she</i> was miserable beyond +endurance. Cornelia paced up and down the room, wishing she +might order the giggling maids to be flogged and their laughter +turned into howling. Then she summoned Cassandra. +</p> + + +<hr /> + +<p> +Cornelia had never before tried to play the actress, but that +night she flung herself into the game for life and death with all +the earnestness of an energetic, intelligent, and spontaneous +woman. She had been barely civil to Lucius Ahenobarbus before; +to-night the young man began to persuade himself that the +object of his affections was really a most adorable coquette, who +used a certain brusqueness of speech to add to her witchery. +He had heard that there had been some very disagreeable scenes +at Præneste, when Lentulus had told his niece that Drusus, on +account of his dangerous politics, was unfit to be her husband. +But Ahenobarbus was sure that either these accounts were exaggerated, +or more likely, Cornelia, like most women, was quick +to fall in love and quick to leave an old sweetheart for a new +one. Be that as it may, Lucius felt that night on good terms +with himself and all the world. Phormio had consented to continue +his loans—until his debtor could realize on "certain +property." Pratinas had said that Dumnorix would shortly +start with a band of gladiators for some local festival at Anagnia, +a little beyond Præneste; and on the way back, if nothing +went amiss, the prearranged programme could be carried out. +Some pretext must be found for keeping Drusus on his estate +at the time when Dumnorix would march past it, and that +task could be confided to Phaon, Lucius's freedman, a sly fox +entirely after his patron's own heart. +</p> + +<p> +Cornelia, to whom the dinner-party at Favonius's house began +as a dreary enough tragedy, before long discovered that it was +by no means more easy to suck undiluted sorrow than unmixed +gladness out of life. It gratified her to imagine the rage and +dismay of the young exquisite whose couch was beside her +chair,<a name="r93" href="#fn93">[93]</a> when he should learn how completely he had been duped. +Then, too, Lucius Ahenobarbus had a voluble flow of polite +small talk, and he knew how to display his accomplishments +to full advantage. He had a fair share of wit and humour; and +when he fancied that Cornelia was not impervious to his advances, +he became more agreeable and more ardent. Once or +twice Cornelia frightened herself by laughing without conscious +forcing. Yet it was an immense relief to her when the banquet +was over, and the guests—for Favonius had ordered +that none should be given enough wine to be absolutely +drunken—called for their sandals and litters and went their +ways. +</p> + +<p> +"And you, O Adorable, Calypso, Circe, Nausicaä, Medēa,—what +shall I call you?—you will not be angry if I call to see +you to-morrow?" said Ahenobarbus, smiling as he parted from +Cornelia. +</p> + +<p> +"If you come," was her response, "I shall not perhaps order +the slaves to pitch you out heels over head." +</p> + +<p> +"Ah! That is a guarded assent, indeed," laughed Lucius, +"but farewell, <i>pulcherrima!</i>"<a name="r94" href="#fn94">[94]</a> +</p> + +<p> +Cornelia that night lay down and sobbed herself to sleep. +Her mother had congratulated her on her brilliant social success +at the dinner-party, and had praised her for treating Lucius +Ahenobarbus as she had. +</p> + +<p> +"You know, my dear," the worthy woman had concluded, +"that since it has seemed necessary to break off with Drusus, +a marriage with Lucius would be at once recommended by your +father's will, and in many ways highly desirable." +</p> + + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p> +Only a very few days later Lucius Ahenobarbus received a +message bidding him come to see his father at the family palace +on the Palatine. Lucius had almost cut himself clear from +his relations. He had his own bachelor apartments, and Domitius +had been glad to have him out of the way. A sort of +fiction existed that he was legally under <i>the patria potestas</i>,<a name="r95" href="#fn95">[95]</a> and +could only have debts and assets on his father's responsibility, +but as a matter of fact his parent seldom paid him any attention; +and only called on him to report at home when there +was a public or family festival, or something very important. +Consequently he knew that matters serious were on foot, when +he read in his father's note a request to visit Domitius's palace +as soon as convenient. Lucius was just starting, in his most +spotless toga,—after a prolonged season with his hairdresser,—to +pay a morning call on Cornelia, and so he was the more +vexed and perturbed. +</p> + +<p> +"Curses on Cato,<a name="r96" href="#fn96">[96]</a> my old uncle," he muttered, while he waited +in the splendid atrium of the house of the Ahenobarbi. "He has +been rating my father about my pranks with Gabinius and Læca, +and something unpleasant is in store for me." +</p> + +<p> +Domitius presently appeared, and his son soon noticed by +the affable yet diplomatic manner of his father, and the gentle +warmth of his greeting, that although there was something in +the background, it was not necessarily very disagreeable. +</p> + +<p> +"My dear Lucius," began Domitius, after the first civilities +were over, and the father and son had strolled into a handsomely +appointed library and taken seats on a deeply upholstered +couch, "I have, I think, been an indulgent parent. But +I must tell you, I have heard some very bad stories of late +about your manner of life." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh!" replied Lucius, smiling. "As your worthy friend +Cicero remarked when defending young Cælius, 'those sorts of +reproaches are regularly heaped on every one whose person or +appearance in youth is at all gentlemanly.'" +</p> + +<p> +"I will thank you if you will not quote Cicero to me," +replied the elder man, a little tartly. "He will soon be back +from Cilicia, and will be prodding and wearying us in the +Senate quite enough, with his rhetoric and sophistries. But I +must be more precise. I have found out how much you owe +Phormio. I thought your dead uncle had left you a moderately +large estate for a young man. Where has it gone to? Don't +try to conceal it! It's been eaten up and drunk up—spent +away for unguents, washed away in your baths, the fish-dealer +and the caterer have made way with it, yes, and butchers and +cooks, and greengrocers and perfume sellers, and poulterers—not +to mention people more scandalous—have made off with +it." +</p> + +<p> +Lucius stretched himself out on the divan, caught at a thick, +richly embroidered pillow, tossed it over his head on to the +floor, yawned, raised himself again upright, and said drawlingly:— +</p> + +<p> +"Y-e-s, it's as you say. I find I spend every sesterce I +have, and all I can borrow. But so long as Phormio is accommodating, +I don't trouble myself very much about the +debts." +</p> + +<p> +"Lucius," said Domitius, sternly, "you are a graceless spendthrift. +Of course you must have the sport which all young +blood needs. But your extravagance goes beyond all bounds. +I call myself a rich man, but to leave you half my fortune, +dividing with your older brother Cnæus, who is a far steadier +and saner man than you, would be to assure myself that Greek +parasites and low women would riot through that part of my +estate in a twelvemonth. You must reform, Lucius; you must +reform." +</p> + +<p> +This was getting extremely disagreeable in spite of his +expectations, and the young man yawned a second time, then +answered:— +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I presume Uncle Cato has told you all kinds of +stories; but they aren't at all true. I really never had a great +deal of money." +</p> + +<p> +"Lucius," went on his father, "you are grown to manhood. +It is time that you steadied in life. I have let you live by +yourself too long. You are even too indolent to engage in +politics, or to go into the army. I have come to a determination. +You must marry the woman I have selected for +you." +</p> + +<p> +Ahenobarbus pricked up his ears. As a matter of fact, he +had surmised what was coming, but he had no intention of +admitting anything prematurely. +</p> + +<p> +"Really, father," he said, "I hope you won't use your legal +right and force a wife on me. I have no desire to tie myself +up to a decent married life." +</p> + +<p> +"I hardly think," said Domitius, smiling, "that you will +resist my wishes long. I have seen Lentulus Crus the consul-elect, +and he and I agree that since your mother's distant kinsman +Quintus Drusus of Præneste is an unsuitable husband for +Cornelia, Lentulus's niece, on account of his very dangerous +political tendencies, no happier alliance could bind our families +together than a marriage between Cornelia and yourself." +</p> + +<p> +Lucius yawned a third time and fell back on the couch. +</p> + +<p> +"It's true," he ventured, "I have cared a good deal for Cornelia; +and I've thrown over that little Greek Clyte and all the +others for her; but then, to make a girl your sweetheart and to +make her your wife are two very different things. <i>Vina +Opimia</i> is best; but because one drinks a <i>cyathus</i><a name="r97" href="#fn97">[97]</a> of that, +why should he forego a good nil of Thasian or Cæcuban? If I +could have but one choice, give me plenty of the good, and I'll +give up my few drops of the best." +</p> + +<p> +"Come, come," said Domitius, a little impatiently, "you must +positively reform. Besides, while appearances must be kept +up, there is no need for leading the life of a Stoic. You won't +find Cornelia a hard companion. You have your pleasures and +she hers, and you will live harmoniously enough and not the +least scandal." +</p> + +<p> +And with this remark Domitius closed the matter, and Lucius +was actually delighted at the situation. What his father had +said had been true enough; half, nay, nearly all, Rome lived in +the manner Domitius had guardedly proposed for his son and +intended daughter-in-law. Marriage was becoming more and +more a mere formality, something that was kept up as the +ancient state Pagan worship was kept up by the remnants of +old-time superstition, and as a cloak to hide a multitude of sins. +Fifty-nine years before, the consul Metellus Numidicus had +declaimed, "Quirites, we would fain be free from all this +annoyance (of marriage); but since nature has so brought it +about that it is neither possible to live pleasantly with our +wives nor by any means to live (as a race) without them, we +ought to consider the welfare of the future rather than the +mere passing pleasure of the present." And ever since that +day Romans had been striving desperately to make the married +state as endurable as possible; usually by reducing the importance +of lawful wedlock to a minimum. +</p> + +<p> +Of course the announcement of the informal betrothal was +soon spread over Rome. The contracting parties were in the +very highest life, and everybody declared that the whole affair +was a political deal between Lentulus Crus and Domitius. It +was commonly reported, too, how Cornelia had broken with +Drusus, and every one remarked that if the young man had +cared to enforce her father's will in the courts, his claim to her +hand and fortune would be valid unless—and here most people +exchanged sly winks, for they knew the power of Domitius +and Lentulus Crus over a jury. +</p> + +<p> +And how had Cornelia borne it—she at whom Herennia +had stared in amazement, when that "dear friend" discovered +the friendship the other was displaying to Lucius Ahenobarbus? +Cornelia had received the announcement very quietly, +one might almost say resignedly. She had one great hope and +consolation to support her. They would not force her to marry +Lucius Ahenobarbus until Drusus was dead or had reached +the age of five-and-twenty. The marriage formula with Ahenobarbus +once uttered, while Quintus lived, and by no possibility, +save by an open spoliation that would have stirred even calloused +Rome, could Lucius touch a sesterce of his intended +victim's property. Cornelia's hope now, strangely enough, was +in the man she regarded as the most consummate villain in the +world, Pratinas. Ahenobarbus might have his debts paid by +his father, and forego risk and crime if he did not absolutely +need Drusus's fortune; but Pratinas, she knew, must have +planned to secure rich pickings of his own, and if Ahenobarbus +married permanently, all these were lost; and the Greeks never +turned back or let another turn back, when there was a fortune +before them. It was a fearful sort of confidence. Drusus had +been warned promptly by Agias. Old Mamercus had straightway +taken every precaution, and forced his foster son to put +himself in a sort of custody, which was sufficiently galling, in +addition to the ever present sense of personal danger. The villa +at Præneste was guarded quietly by several armed slaves and +peasants; not a morsel or drop passed Drusus's lips that had not +been tested and tasted by a trusty dependent. The young man +was not to go to Rome, despite his infinite yearning to see +Cornelia, for every opportunity would be given in the dark +city streets for an assassin. In fact, Drusus was virtually a +prisoner in his own estates, for only there could he feel reasonably +safe from attack. +</p> + +<p> +All these precautions Cornelia knew, for Agias was a master +at smuggling letters in and out. She had told Drusus +frankly all that had passed, and how that she was acting as +she did only for his sake. She asked him to trust her, and he +wrote back that no doubt of her fidelity to him had crossed his +mind; he was not worthy of such love as she had for him; it +did not matter very much if Ahenobarbus did kill him, except +that it would give her new grief and pain, and the thought of +that he could not bear. Cornelia had replied that if Drusus +was murdered, she was woman enough and Roman enough to +stab Lucius Ahenobarbus on their marriage night, and then +plunge the dagger into her own breast. And there the fearful +matter had rested; Cornelia smiled by day, and dazzled all +she met by her vivacity, and her aggressive queenliness; and +by night cried with tearless sobs, which came out of the depths +of her heart. And all the time she waited for Agias to foil +the plot, and assure Drusus of his life. Let Quintus once be +safe, and then—how could she resist the irresistible pressure +that would be brought to bear to force her into a hated +marriage, which Ahenobarbus—balked though he might be +of a fortune—would no longer care to defer? And when Cornelia +thought of this, and when she was alone, she would open +a little casket, of which no other had the key, and touch the +ivory-carved hilt of a small damascened knife. The blade was +very sharp; and there was a sticky gum all along the edge,—deadly +poison; only a very slight scratch put one beyond +aid of physician. +</p> + +<p> +The bitterest cup of all was the attitude she felt forced to +assume toward Lucius Ahenobarbus. There were limits of +familiarity and simulated affection beyond which she could +not drive herself to go. Lucius was with her at all hours and +in all places. The more she saw of him the more she abhorred +his effeminate sensuality and lack of almost every quality that +made life worth the living. But she must—she must learn +the plot against Drusus, and precisely how and when the trap +was to be sprung. And in a measure, at least so far as +Lucius was concerned, she succeeded. By continually and +openly reviling Quintus, by professing to doubt the legality of +a marriage contracted against the terms of her father's will, by +all but expressing the wish that her late lover were out of +harm's way, she won her point. In a fit of half-drunken confidence +Ahenobarbus assured her that she would not be troubled +by Drusus for long; that he would soon be unable to annoy her. +And then came a great disappointment. When Cornelia asked—and +how much the request cost her, only she herself knew—to +be let into the plot, Lucius owned that he had left the +details in the hands of Pratinas, and did not himself know +just how or when the blow was to fall. In Pratinas—whom +Cornelia met very seldom—she met with a sphinx, ever smiling, +ever gracious, but who, as if regretting the burst of confidence +he had allowed Valeria, kept himself closed to the +insinuations and half-questions of every one else. The truth +was, the lanista Dumnorix was unwilling to do his part of the +business until the festival at Anagnia brought him and his +band through Præneste, and this festival had been postponed. +Consequently, the projected murder had been postponed a few +days also. Agias had tried to penetrate into the secrets of +Pratinas, but found that judicious intriguer had, as a rule, +carefully covered his tracks. He spent a good deal of time +and money, which Cornelia gave him, trying to corrupt some +of the gladiators of Dumnorix's band and get at the intentions +of their master; but he was not able to find that any of these +wretches, who took his gold greedily enough, really knew in +the least what were the appointments and engagements of the +Gallic giant. As a matter of fact, the boy began to feel +decidedly discouraged. Pisander had nothing more to tell; +and, moreover, the worthy philosopher often gave such contradictory +accounts of what he had overheard in Valeria's +boudoir, that Agias was at his wit's end when and where to +begin. +</p> + +<p> +So passed the rest of the month since Cornelia had been +brought from Præneste to Rome. +</p> + + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p> +Cornelia began to grow sick at heart. The conviction was +stealing over her that she was the victim of a cruel destiny, +and it was useless to fight against fate. She had made sacrifices +for Drusus's sake that had cost her infinitely. All Rome +said that Cornelia returned the love of Lucius Ahenobarbus. +And with it all, she knew that she had not succeeded in discovering +the real plot of Pratinas, and could not thwart it. +She knew that nearly every one placed her, if actually not as +vicious as the rest, at least in the same coterie with Clodia, +and the wife of Lentulus Spinther the younger Metella, and +only a grade better than such a woman as Arbuscula, the +reigning actress of the day. There was no defence to offer to +the world. Did she not go with her mother to the gay gathering, +in the gardens by the Tiber? Was she not waited on by +half the fashionable young aristocrats of Rome? Was she +not affianced to a man who was notoriously a leader of what +might to-day be called the "fast set" of the capital? And +from Drusus, poor fellow, she gained not the least consolation. +That he loved her as she loved him, she had never cause to +doubt. But in his self-renunciation he gave her advice that +sprang out of his own sorrow and pessimism. It was no use, +ran his letters, for a woman like her to try and battle against +the evident decrees of Fortune. He was a man, and must fight +his battle or die his death bravely; but she was not called +on for this. There was no reason why she should not really +enjoy herself, in the way most of the world thought she was +enjoying herself. She had better wed Lucius Ahenobarbus, +and stoop to the inevitable. Her husband could go his way +and she go hers, and none would complain. Perhaps the Epicureans +were right,—this life was all, and it was best to suck +from it all the sweets one might, and not be disturbed by +pricks of conscience. Drusus and Cornelia were not lovers of +a modern romance, to entertain fantastic ideas of love and +duty, to throw themselves away for a fancy, or tie themselves +with vows which militated against almost every worldly +advantage. They were both Romans, and by that we mean +eminently practical persons, faithful to one another, pure and +noble in their affections, but habituated to look a situation in +the face and accept the plain consequences. In this spirit +Drusus had advised as he did, and Cornelia became discouraged +accordingly. Her reason told her to submit to the +inevitable. Her heart cried out against it. And so she continued +to finger the hilt of the little dagger, and look at its +keen poison-smeared edge. +</p> + +<p> +But one day at the end of this dreary period Agias appeared +before his mistress with a smiling face. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't raise high hopes, my lady, but trust me. I have +struck a path that I'm sure Pratinas will wish I'd never +travelled." And that was all he would say, but laid his +finger on his lips as though it was a great secret. When he +was gone, for Cornelia the sun shone brighter, and the tinkling +of the water in the fountain in the peristylium sounded +sweeter than before. After all, there had come a gleam of +hope. +</p> + +<p> +Cornelia needed the encouragement. That same day when +Herennia called to see her, that excellent young lady—for +not the least reason in the world—had been full of stories of +poisoning and murders, how some years ago a certain Balbutius +of Larinum was taken off, it was said, at a wedding +feast of a friend for whom the poison had been intended; +and then again she had to tell how, at another time, poison +had been put in a bit of bread of which the victim partook. +The stories were old ones and perhaps nothing more than second-hand +scandal, but they were enough to make poor Cornelia +miserable; so she was doubly rejoiced when Agias that evening +pressed his lips again and smiled and said briefly: "All is +going well. We shall have the root of the matter in a few +days." +</p> + +<p> +Agias had actually come upon what he was right in considering +a great piece of good fortune. He had easily found the +tenement in the Subura where Pratinas lodged, but to learn +anything there that would be useful was a far more difficult +affair. He had hung around the place, however, as much as +he dared, making his headquarters at a tavern conveniently +near, and tried to learn Pratinas's habits, and whether he +ever took any visitors home with him. All this came to +little purpose till one morning he observed an old Ethiop, +who was tugging a heavy provision basket, stagger up the +street, through the nondescript crowd. The old slave was +being assailed by a mob of street gamins and low pedlers +who saw in the contents of the hamper so much fair plunder. +These vagabonds had just thrown the Ethiop down +into the mud, and were about to divide their booty, when +Agias, acting on a generous impulse, rushed out from the +tavern to the rescue. Nimble, for his age powerful, and +armed with a stout staff which he had caught up in the +wine-shop to aid him, the young Greek won an easy victory +over cowardly antagonists, put all the plunderers to flight, +and lifted the old slave out of the mire. The Ethiop was +profuse in his thanks. +</p> + +<p> +"And whose slave are you?" demanded Agias, well pleased +to be out of the adventure. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm Sesostris, servant of Pratinas the Greek." +</p> + +<p> +Agias pricked up his ears. "And you live—" +</p> + +<p> +"In the top story of this tenement;" and Sesostris tried +to pick up the hamper. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh!" laughed his rescuer, "you must let me save you +that trouble. I will carry up the basket. Your master is +a brute to pile on such loads." +</p> + +<p> +Sesostris again fawned his gratitude, and Agias, with +quickened wits and eyes alert, toiled up the dark stairway, +and found himself at the top of the building. He had "entered +the enemy's country." The Ethiop might not have been open +to bribes, but he might be unlocked through friendship, and +Agias never needed all his senses more than now. They had +reached the topmost flight of stairs, and Sesostris had stopped +as if embarrassed whether to invite his deliverer in to enjoy +some hospitality, or say him farewell. Then of a sudden from +behind the closed door came a clear, sweet, girlish voice, +singing, in Greek:— +</p> + + +<blockquote> +<p> +"O Aitnë, mother mine: A grotto fair<br /> + Scooped in the rocks have I, and there I keep<br /> +All that in dreams man pictures! Treasured there<br /> + Are multitudes of she-goats and of sheep,<br /> + Swathed in whose wool from top to toe I sleep." +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +It was an idyl of Theocritus, very well known by Agias, +and without the least hesitation he took up the strain, and +continued:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +"The fire boils my pot; with oak or beech<br /> + Is piled,—dry beech logs when the snow lies deep.<br /> +And storm and sunshine, I disdain them each<br /> + As toothless sires a nut, when broth is in their reach."<a name="r98" href="#fn98">[98]</a> +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +Agias paused. There was a silence, then a giggle behind the +door, and it half opened, and out peered the plump and rosy +face of the young girl we have heard Pratinas salute as his +niece, Artemisia. The moment she caught sight of the rather +manly form of Agias, the door started to close with a slam, +but the latter thrust out his foot, blocked the door, and forced +an entrance. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Eleleu!</i>" cried Agias, pushing into a small but neatly +furnished room. "What have we here? Do the muses sing +in Subura? Has Sappho brought hither her college of poetesses +from Lesbos?" +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Ai!</i>" exclaimed Artemisia, drawing back, "who are you? +You're dreadfully rude. I never saw you before." +</p> + +<p> +"Nor I you;" replied Agias, in capital good humour, "but +that is no reason why I should take my eyes away from your +pretty little face. No, you needn't point your middle finger +at me so, to ward off the evil eye. I'm neither Chaldean +astrologer, nor Etruscan soothsayer. Come, tell me who you +are, and whom you belong to?" +</p> + +<p> +Artemisia did not have the least idea what to say. Agias, +partly through youthful love of adventure, partly because he +felt that he was playing now for very high stakes and must +risk a good deal, had thrown himself on the divan, and was +holding Artemisia captive under his keen, genial eyes. She +grew redder in face than before, began to speak, then broke +off with more confused blushes. +</p> + +<p> +"She means to say," finally ventured Sesostris, "that she +is Artemisia, the niece of Pratinas." +</p> + +<p> +"The niece of Pratinas!" exclaimed Agias, settling himself +upon the cushions in a manner that indicated his intention to +make a prolonged stay; "and does Pratinas keep his pretty +niece shut up in a gloomy tenement, when she has the voice +of one of the Graces, and more than their share of beauty! +Shame on him; I thought he had better sense than that!" +</p> + +<p> +"Sir," ventured Artemisia, trying desperately to stand on +her dignity, "I do not know you. My uncle will be greatly +vexed to find you here. Will you go away at once?" +</p> + +<p> +"That I will not," replied Agias, firmly; and he drew +from the hamper a baker's bun, and began to munch it, as +though laying in provision for a lengthy stay. +</p> + +<p> +Artemisia and Sesostris exchanged glances of dismay. +</p> + +<p> +"What <i>shall</i> I do?" said the girl to the Ethiop in a very +audible whisper. +</p> + +<p> +"Sing," interrupted Agias. "Let me hear the rest of the +Theocritus." +</p> + +<p> +"I don't like to sing those songs," objected Artemisia. +"Pratinas makes me, I don't know why." +</p> + +<p> +"Well," said Agias, smiling, "I wouldn't for the-world +make you sing against your will. Suppose you tell me about +yourself. Tell me when your uncle is away, and when I may +come and see you again." +</p> + +<p> +"He's away nearly all the time," said Artemisia, very incautiously. +"But <i>who are</i> you? Why do you want to come +and see me?" +</p> + +<p> +"Why do I want to look at a flower? Why do I want to +hear the nightingale sing? Why do I like a cup of good +wine?" laughed Agias. "Then, fair mistress, you may look +for my answer when <i>you</i> have answered all of these questions +of mine." +</p> + +<p> +"I don't see what you mean," said poor Artemisia, looking +dreadfully puzzled. +</p> + +<p> +"I mean," exclaimed the other, "what Sappho meant of the +bride,— +</p> + + +<blockquote> +<p> +'She like an apple turned red; which reddens far up on the tree-top:—<br /> +Upon the topmost of boughs,—the gatherers they have quite missed it.<br /> +Yes, they saw it indeed; but too high to dare try to pluck it.' +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +Only I, if you don't greatly mind, will be the bold tree-climber +and pluck the apple." +</p> + +<p> +"But I do mind," cried Artemisia, all blushes, and springing +a little back. Old Sesostris looked alarmed. +</p> + +<p> +"You—you mean the girl no ill?" he faltered. +</p> + +<p> +Agias looked from the innocent little thing over to the +Ethiop, snapped his finger, and replied:— +</p> + +<p> +"Ill? I am not a human wolf, making pretty objects like +this my prey!" Then, choosing his moment carefully, by a +quick turn he confronted Sesostris sternly, and almost thundered: +"<i>You</i> speak of my doing ill to this maiden? You +speak—the slave of Pratinas, who is the leader in every vice +and wild prank in Rome! Has the slave as well as the master +learned to play the hypocrite? Do you want to be tortured +into confessing your part in all your master's crimes when the +hour of reckoning comes and he is brought to justice. <i>A! A!</i>" +he went on, seeing that Sesostris was rolling the whites of his +eyes, and was trembling in every limb, "you know for a certainty +how and when Pratinas is to have Quintus Drusus +killed! Don't deny it. You will soon be in the meshes. +Don't hope to escape. If murder comes to Drusus he may +perish, but he has friends who will fearfully avenge his +death." +</p> + +<p> +"Mercy! Mercy!" howled the Ethiop, falling on his knees +and clutching at the young Greek's robe, "I know very little +of the plot. I only know—" +</p> + +<p> +"Don't equivocate," thundered Agias. "If I had known +the kind of man you were, I would hardly have saved you +from those street ruffians. You don't deserve to live. Well, +the crows will soon have you! You Egyptians believe in a +judgment of the dead; what defence can you make before the +court of Osiris<a name="r99" href="#fn99">[99]</a> for being privy to a foul murder? You'll +come back to earth as a fly, or a toad, or a dung-beetle, to pay +the penalty for your sins." +</p> + +<p> +"Mercy," whined Sesostris, who was in a paroxysm of +fright. "Indeed I am innocent! I am only a poor slave! I +can't help knowing what Pratinas is doing; but how can I +prevent him? Don't look at me so! I am innocent—innocent!" +</p> + +<p> +"I can scarce believe you," said Agias, affecting great +reluctance to show any leniency. "Doubtless you are steeped +in blood. Still, you may save yourself this once. Remember, +you are known, and the plans of Pratinas against Drusus +are partly known. We know about Dumnorix, and Lucius +Ahenobarbus, and—" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh!" cried Sesostris, as though a hot iron had touched +him, "I will find out everything, and tell you. Indeed I will. +Only do not send me to the rack or crucify me if my master's +plans go astray!" +</p> + +<p> +"Well," said Agias, still simulating hesitancy, "I will +report to my superiors. Perhaps you are not a willing accomplice +of your master. In that case, if he is apprehended, your +life will doubtless be spared. But we must thwart his plot +before it can be carried out. This you must aid us to do. +When will Dumnorix start for Præneste?" +</p> + +<p> +Again Sesostris quailed. "I don't know," he faltered, +"there has been a postponement. There was a plan that if +Drusus came to the city he was to be lured outside the +Esquiline gate, as if going to some villa, and murdered in the +sand-pits, as have been many people." +</p> + +<p> +"But this plan has been given up? Speak the truth!" +sharply demanded Agias. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes; for Drusus will not stir from Præneste. So there +the scheme must be executed, as originally arranged." +</p> + +<p> +"And Dumnorix will go soon?" +</p> + +<p> +"I think in a few days. I will find out." +</p> + +<p> +"As you love your own life do so! I will call on each day +at this hour. If Pratinas is at home, leave some bright garment +outside near the door, that I may not stumble on him. +Deceive or betray me, and my masters will take a terrible +revenge on you; for you haven't the least idea what is the +power of the men Pratinas has for enemies." +</p> + +<p> +Agias turned to depart. Then to Artemisia:— +</p> + +<p> +"And you, my pretty,—when I come again, I will try to +stay longer, and make you feel as glad to see Agias, as Agias +will be to see Artemisia." +</p> + +<p> +Agias was descending the stairs, when Sesostris called him +back with a whisper. +</p> + +<p> +"You are a dreadful youth; but since I am so utterly in +your power, hear something that may prove that I am not a +knave at heart. You have a fancy to the girl?" +</p> + +<p> +"Certainly I have eyes for her face, and ears for her sweet +little voice," said Agias, smiling. +</p> + +<p> +"Then listen," went on the Ethiop; "I care for the dear +more than anything else in the world. She said she was +Pratinas's niece. It isn't true. She is a slave-girl he picked +up when very little at Delos,<a name="r100" href="#fn100">[100]</a> as he told me, though I doubt +it. He took a fancy to her, and really thought of adopting +her. Then his soul became so set on money, that he saw she +would fetch a great price when grown; and sell her he will. +He still pretends to call her his niece; but that won't be for +long. He is teaching her to sing, to add to her value. <i>A!</i> +But my old heart is almost breaking for her sake. <i>Mu, mu!</i>" +and Sesostris puffed his groans through his nostrils. "Think +of it! He has an idea to sell her to that rich Roman, Lucius +Calatinus—and then I don't dare hint what will be her fate." +</p> + +<p> +"Calatinus!" hissed Agias, concentrating volumes of scorn +into a word. +</p> + +<p> +"You know him! You hate him!" cried Sesostris. "Then +by Ammon-Ra, by Isis, by every god in whom you believe, +save my darling from worse than death! Do that, and I will +die for you!" +</p> + +<p> +Sesostris's emotion was too genuine to be a mere trap for +ensnaring his visitor; and Agias in turn was stirred. +</p> + +<p> +"Old man," he exclaimed, seizing the other's hand, "you +and I have suffered much from evil masters. Thank the gods, +I am now serving one I love—albeit unfortunate enough! +But we have a common right to punish the wrongdoers, and +earn a little bit of happiness for ourselves. Come, now! If +Artemisia is a slave, she is in no wise above me. Let me +save Drusus from Pratinas, and I pledge my word that I will +save Artemisia from him and his nefarious schemes,—yes, +and you, too. If Artemisia likes me, why then there will be +perhaps more to add to the story. Come—I am your friend, +and you, mine." +</p> + +<p> +Sesostris wrung the other's hand. The honest servant was +moved too much to speak. His heart and soul had been bound +up in Artemisia. +</p> + +<p> +"May your <i>Ka</i><a name="r101" href="#fn101">[101]</a> stand before Osiris justified!" he choked. +"I have been privy to many a dark action, until I used to try +to forget the day when I must answer to the Judge of the +Dead for every deed done and word spoken. But I could not +stifle my fear for the only dear thing in the world." +</p> + +<p> +Agias went away in a happy frame of mind. He had every +confidence that Sesostris would worm out of Pratinas the +exact details of the plot, and put the conspirators at the +mercy of Drusus and Mamercus. +</p> + + +<hr /> + +<p> +And Agias had felt there was good reason to rejoice in his +discovery in more ways than one. Especially was he conscious +that there were no lips as red and as merry, no cheeks +as rosy, no eyes as dancing, no chatter as sweet, as those of +Artemisia. And what is more, he rejoiced to believe that +that young lady was not half so shy of him as at first, and +was as anxious to see him as he to see her. Thanks to due +warnings and precautions, Agias never stumbled on Pratinas, +when the latter was at his lodgings. The time he dared to +stay was all too short for Artemisia. She was always telling +how lonesome she was with only old Sesostris for company, +before she knew Agias. Once when the latter was late in +his daily visit, he was delighted to find scribbled on the +wall, "Artemisia to her Agias: you are real mean." Agias +hated to make her erase it lest it fall under Pratinas's +eagle eye. +</p> + +<p> +But still Sesostris had nothing to tell about the plot against +Drusus. Some days passed. Agias began to grow uneasy. +Sesostris had represented that he was conversant with everything +his master had on foot; but Pratinas might have been +more discreet than to unfold all his affairs, even before his +servant; and then, too, there was always the possibility that +Sesostris was playing fast and loose, and about to betray +Agias to his master. So the latter grew disquieted, and +found it a little hard to preserve the character of cheerful +mystery which he simulated to Cornelia. The long-sought +information came at a time when he was really off his guard. +Agias had been visiting Artemisia. Sesostris as well as Pratinas +had been out; the two young people were amusing themselves +trying to teach a pet magpie to speak, when the Ethiop +rushed into the room, all in a tremble with anxious excitement. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>A! A!</i>" he was ejaculating. "Up, speed, don't delay! +There's murder afoot!" +</p> + +<p> +Agias let the bird slip from his hands, and never noticed +that it fluttered on its clipped wings around the room, to Artemisia's +infinite dismay. +</p> + +<p> +"What? Is the plot hatched?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, yes," puffed Sesostris, great beads of perspiration on +his honest face. "I was attending Pratinas when he met Lucius +Ahenobarbus in the Forum. They veiled their talk, but I +readily caught its drift. Dumnorix went yesterday with the +pick of his band to Anagnia for some games. To-morrow he +will return through Præneste, and the deed will be done. +Phaon, Ahenobarbus's freedman, has started already for Præneste +to spy out the ground and be ready to direct Dumnorix +where, when, and how to find Drusus. Phaon has been spying +at Præneste, and is the dangerous man!" +</p> + +<p> +"He has gone?" demanded Agias. +</p> + +<p> +"Gone, early this morning!" +</p> + +<p> +"Then,—the gods reward you for your news,—I am gone +too!" +</p> + +<p> +And without another word to Artemisia or the old slave, +Agias had rushed out into the street. He had a double game +to play—to prevent Phaon from ever reaching Præneste, and +then get such help to Drusus as would enable him to beat off +Dumnorix and his gang. For Agias felt certain that the hard-hitting +Gaul would execute his part of the bargain, whether he +met Phaon or not, and afterward look into the consequences +of what—unmitigated by the freedman's <i>finesse</i>—would take +the form of an open clumsy murder. But Phaon had started +that morning; and it was now well into the afternoon. Time +was dangerously scanty. Cornelia he felt he should inform; +but she could do nothing really to help him. He turned his +steps toward the Forum and the Atrium Vestæ. He had some +difficulty in inducing the porter to summon Fabia, to meet in +personal interview a mere slave, but a gratuity won the point; +and a minute later he was relating the whole story and the +present situation of Drusus to Fabia, with a sincere directness +that carried conviction with it. She had known that Drusus +had enemies; but now her whole strong nature was stirred at +the sense of her nephew's imminent peril. +</p> + +<p> +"If you were a freeman, Agias," were her words, "and could +give witness as such, Pratinas and Ahenobarbus—high as the +latter is—should know that my influence at the law outweighs +theirs. But they shall be thwarted. I will go to Marcellus +the consul, and demand that troops be started to Præneste +to-night. But you must go after Phaon." +</p> + +<p> +"You will send word to Cornelia?" requested Agias. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," said Fabia, "but not now; it is useless. Here is an +order on Gallus, who keeps a livery-stable<a name="r102" href="#fn102">[102]</a> by the Porta Esquilina. +He will give you my new white Numidian, that I keep +with him. Ride as you have never ridden before. And here +is money. Twenty gold philippi in this bag. Bribe, do anything. +Only save Drusus! Now go!" +</p> + +<p> +"Farewell, lady," cried Agias, "may I redeem the debt of +gratitude I owe you!" +</p> + +<p> +Fabia stood looking after him, as he hastened out from the +quiet atrium into the busy street. Little Livia had cuddled up +beside her aunt. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Livia," said Fabia, "I feel as though it were of no use +to live good and pure in this world! Who knows what trouble +may come to me from this day's doings? And why should +they plot against your brother's dear life? But I mustn't talk +so." And she called for her attendants to escort her abroad. +</p> + + + + + +<h2 id="ch8">CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<h2>"WHEN GREEK MEETS GREEK"</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p> +Cornelia had surmised correctly that Pratinas, not Lucius +Ahenobarbus, would be the one to bring the plot against Drusus +to an issue. Lucius had tried in vain to escape from the snares +the wily intriguer had cast about him. His father had told +him that if he would settle down and lead a moderately respectable +life, Phormio should be paid off. And with this burden +off his mind, for reformation was very easily promised, Lucius +had time to consider whether it was worth his while to mix in +a deed that none of Pratinas's casuistry could quite convince him +was not a foul, unprovoked murder, of an innocent man. The +truth was, Ahenobarbus was desperately in love with Cornelia, +and had neither time nor desire to mingle in any business not +connected with the pursuit of his "tender passion." None of +his former sweethearts—and he had had almost as many as +he was years old—were comparable in his eyes to her. She +belonged to a different world from that of the Spanish dancers, +the saucy maidens of Greece, or even the many noble-born +Roman women that seemed caught in the eddy of Clodia's +fashionable whirlpool. Lucius frankly told himself that he +would want to be divorced from Cornelia in five years—it +would be tedious to keep company longer with a goddess. But +for the present her vivacity, her wit, her bright intelligence, +no less than her beauty, charmed him. And he was rejoiced +to believe that she was quite as much ensnared by his own +attractions. He did not want any unhappy accident to mar +the smooth course which was to lead up to the marriage in no +distant future. He did not need Drusus's money any longer to +save him from bankruptcy. The legacy would be highly desirable, +but life would be very pleasant without it. Lucius was +almost induced by his inward qualms to tell Pratinas to throw +over the whole matter, and inform Dumnorix that his services +were not needed. +</p> + +<p> +It was at this juncture that Cornelia committed an error, +the full consequences of which were, to her, happily veiled. +In her anxiety to discover the plot, she had made Lucius +believe that she was really pining for the news of the murder +of Drusus. Cornelia had actually learned nothing by a sacrifice +that tore her very heart out; but her words and actions +did almost irreparable harm to the cause she was trying to +aid. +</p> + +<p> +"And you have never given me a kiss," Lucius had said +one morning, when he was taking leave of Cornelia in +the atrium of the Lentuli. "Will you ever play the siren, +and lure me to you? and then devour, as it were, your victim, +not with your lips, but with your eyes?" +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Eho!</i> Not so bold!" replied Cornelia, drawing back. +"How can I give you what you wish, unless I am safe from +that awful Polyphemus up in Præneste?" +</p> + +<p> +When Ahenobarbus went away, his thoughts were to the +following effect: "I had always thought Cornelia different +from most women; but now I can see that, like them all, she +hates and hates. To say to her, 'Drusus is dead,' will be a +more grateful present than the largest diamond Lucullus +brought from the East, from the treasure of King Tigranes." +</p> + +<p> +And it was in such a frame of mind that he met Pratinas +by appointment at a low tavern on the Vicus Tuscus. The +Greek was, as ever, smiling and plausible. +</p> + +<p> +"Congratulations!" was his greeting. "Dumnorix has +already started. He has my orders; and now I must borrow +your excellent freedman, Phaon, to go to Præneste and spy +out, for the last time, the land, and general our army. Let +him start early to-morrow morning. The time is ample, and +unless some malevolent demon hinder us, there will be no +failure. I have had a watch kept over the Drusus estate. +An old sentry of a steward, Mamercus,—so I learn,—has +been afraid, evidently, of some foul play on the part of the +consul-designate, and has stationed a few armed freedmen +on guard. Drusus himself keeps very carefully on his own +premises. This is all the better for us. Dumnorix will dispose +of the freedmen in a hurry, and our man will be in waiting +there just for the gladiators. Phaon will visit him—cook +up some errand, and inveigle him, if possible, well out in the +colonnade in front of the house, before Dumnorix and his +band pass by. Then there will be that very deplorable +scuffle, and its sad, sad results. Alas, poor Drusus! Another +noble Livian gathered to his fathers!" +</p> + +<p> +"I don't feel very merry about it," ventured Lucius. "I +don't need Drusus's money as much as I did. If it wasn't for +Cornelia, I would drop it all, even now. Sometimes I feel +there are avenging Furies—<i>Diræ</i>, we Latins call them—haunting +me." +</p> + +<p> +Pratinas laughed incredulously. "Surely, my dear fellow," +he began, "you don't need to have the old superstitions +explained away again, do you?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, no," was his answer; Lucius capitulating another +time. +</p> + +<p> +So it came to pass that Pratinas had an interview with +Phaon, Lucius's freedman, a sleek, well-oiled Sicilian Greek, +who wore his hair very long to cover the holes bored in his +ears—the mark of old-time servitude. He was the darling +of waiting-maids; the collector of all current scandal; the +master spirit in arranging dinners, able to tell a Tuscan from +a Lucanian boar by mere taste. He used also to help his +patron compose <i>billets-doux,</i> and had, by his twistings and +scrapings, repeatedly staved off Phormio, Lucius's importunate +creditor. As for Phaon's heart, it was so soft and +tender that the pricks of conscience, if he ever had any, went +straight through, without leaving a trace behind. And when +Pratinas now informed him as to his final duties at Præneste, +Phaon rubbed his beringed hands and smoothed his carefully +scraped chin with ill-concealed satisfaction. +</p> + +<p> +"And a word more in closing," said Pratinas, as he parted +with Phaon in the tavern—while Lucius, who had been +drinking very heavily, nodded stupidly over his goblet of +amber Falernian, in a vain attempt to gulp down eight +<i>cyathi</i> at once, one measure to each letter in the name of +Cornelia—"a word more. Dumnorix is a thick-skulled +knave, who is, after all, good for little but blows. I have +made an arrangement which will ensure having a careful +man at his elbow in time of need. You, of course, will have +to do your best to save the unfortunate Quintus from inevitable +fate. But I have asked Publius Gabinius to leave for +Præneste very early on the morning when Dumnorix passes +through that place. Gabinius has a small villa a little beyond +the town, and there will be nothing suspicious in a journey to +visit one's country house. He will meet Dumnorix, and be +at his side when the pinch comes. You see? He is an +adventurous fellow, and will help us just for the sake of the +mischief. Besides, I believe he has a grudge against the +Drusian family as a whole, for he lately tried to pass some +familiarities with Fabia the Vestal, Drusus's aunt, and she +proved disgustingly prudish." +</p> + +<p> +"And how much will you and I," said Phaon, with a sly +smirk, "gain out of this little business, if all goes well? Of +course one should help one's patron, but—" +</p> + +<p> +"It is folly to divide the spoils of Troy before Troy is +taken," laughed Pratinas. "Don't be alarmed, my good fellow. +Your excellent patron will reward us, no doubt, amply." +And he muttered to himself: "If I don't bleed that Lucius +Ahenobarbus, that Roman donkey, out of two-thirds of his +new fortune; if I don't levy blackmail on him without mercy +when he's committed himself, and becomes a partner in crime, +I'm no fox of a Hellene. I wonder that he is the son of a man +like Domitius, who was so shrewd in that old affair with me +at Antioch." +</p> + + +<hr /> + +<p> +So it came to pass that the next morning, long before Pratinas +and Ahenobarbus met in the Forum and reviewed the +steps taken in the words that gave Sesostris the key to the +situation, Phaon was driving toward Præneste. Of course a +mere freedman, on a journey preferably kept quiet, travelled +in not the least state. He rode alone, but had borrowed from +his patron two of those small but speedy Gallic horses called +mammi, that whirled his gig over the Campagna at a rapid +trot. Still there was no great call for haste. He wished to +get to Præneste about dark, and there make a few inquiries +as to the whereabouts and recent doings of Drusus. Pratinas +had had considerable espionage kept up over his intended +victim, and the last results of this detective work were to be +reported to Phaon by the slaves of Ahenobarbus performing +it. Perhaps there would be no real harm in driving straight +through to Præneste in the open daylight, but it was better +not to show himself until the right time. So it was that, +halfway on the road, Phaon turned in to the tavern of the +decaying little town of Gabii, gave his team to the hostler, +and rested himself by fuming over the squalor and poor cooking +of the inn. +</p> + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p> +Agias secured the fast Numidian from the stables of Gallus, +and was soon away. His frequent journeys between Rome and +Præneste, in service of Cornelia and Drusus, made him a fairly +expert rider, and his noble mount went pounding past the mile-stones +at a steady, untiring gallop. The young Hellene was +all tingling with excitement and expectation; he would save +Drusus; he would send the roses back into his beloved mistress's +cheeks; and they would reward him, give him freedom; +and then the future would be bright indeed. +</p> + +<p> +But it grew late, fast as the horse bore him. He felt it his +duty to press on with all speed to Præneste. He had still a +very vague notion of the final form of the conspiracy, especially +of the rôle assigned to Phaon. Of one thing he was +certain: to intercept Phaon was to deprive Dumnorix of an +essential ally; but how to intercept the wily freedman was +nothing easy. +</p> + +<p> +As the Numidian swept into Gabii, Agias drew rein, telling +himself that the horse would make better speed for a little +rest and baiting. The tavern court into which he rode was exceedingly +filthy; the whole building was in a state of decay; +the odours were indescribable. In the great public-room a +carter was trolling a coarse ditty, while through the doorway +ran a screaming serving-maid to escape some low familiarity. +</p> + +<p> +A shock-headed boy with a lantern took Agias's bridle, and +the Greek alighted; almost under his eyes the dim light fell +on a handsome, two-horse gig, standing beside the entrance +to the court. Agias gave the vehicle close attention. +</p> + +<p> +"It belongs to a gentleman from Rome, now inside," explained +the boy, "one horse went lame, and the veterinary<a name="r103" href="#fn103">[103]</a> +is coming." Agias's eye caught a very peculiar bend in the +hollow in the neck-yoke. He had seen that carriage before, +on the fashionable boulevards—along the Tiber, in the Campus +Martius—the carriage of Lucius Ahenobarbus. Phaon was +waiting in the tavern! +</p> + +<p> +"Care for my horse at once," remarked Agias, a little +abruptly. "Time presses." And he turned on his heel, and +leaving the boy gaping after him, went into the squalid public-room +of the tavern. +</p> + +<p> +The landlord of the establishment, a small, red-faced, +bustling man, was fussing over some lean thrushes roasting +on a spit before the open fire that was roaring on the hearth. +The landlady, lazy, muscular, corpulent, and high-voiced, was +expostulating with a pedler who was trying to slip out without +settling. Four other persons, slaves and peasants, were +sitting on two low benches beside a small, circular table, and +were busy pouring down the liquor which a young serving-boy +brought them in tumbler-shaped cups, or eating greedily at +loaves of coarse bread which they snatched from the table. +It was so late that little light came into the room from the +door and windows. The great fire tossed its red, flickering +glow out into the apartment and cast a rosy halo over the +hard brown marble pavement of the floor. Upon the dingy +walls and rafters hung from pegs flitches of bacon, sausages, +and nets of vegetables. Agias stopped in the doorway and +waited till his eyes were fairly accustomed to the fire-light. +Over in a remote corner he saw a lamp gleaming, and there, +sprawling on a bench, beside a table of his own, well piled +with food and drink, he distinguished in solitary majesty +Phaon—too exquisite to mingle with the other guests of the +tavern. +</p> + +<p> +The landlord quickly noticed his new customer, and sprang +up from the fire. Agias had on a coarse grey woollen cloak +over his light tunic, and he drew his hood up so as partly to +cover his face as he stepped into the room. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Salve!</i>" was the landlord's salutation. "What hospitality +can the Elephant<a name="r104" href="#fn104">[104]</a> afford you?" +</p> + +<p> +The good host did not think Agias anything more by his +dress than a common slave, and saw no need of excessive +politeness. +</p> + +<p> +Agias noticed that he was expected to join the other drinkers +around the centre table. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Eho</i>, mine host!" cried he, letting the fire give one glint on +a gold piece. "Can't you give me a seat at the other end of +the room? I don't know these good people, and they won't +thank me for thrusting myself on them." +</p> + +<p> +"Certainly, certainly," exclaimed the landlord, all condescension. +"There is a gentleman from Rome drinking by +himself at that table over there. Perhaps he will not object." +</p> + +<p> +Now was the crisis. Agias had seen Phaon many times +with Lucius Ahenobarbus; but he was reasonably certain that +the freedman had never degraded himself by taking any notice +of the numerous slaves of Lentulus's household. Without +waiting for the host to continue, he hastened over to the +farther table, and exclaimed with all the effrontery at his +command:— +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Hem!</i> Phaon; don't you remember an old friend?" +</p> + +<p> +The freedman for once was completely off his guard. He +started up, stared at Agias, and began to mutter excuses for +a very short memory. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, well," cried Agias. "You <i>have</i> a poor recollection +of faces! Don't you remember how Pratinas took you to the +Big Eagle restaurant, down on the Vicus Jugarius, on the last +Calends, and how you met me there, and what good Lesbian +and Chian wine there was? None of your weak, sickening +Italian stuff! Surely you remember Cleombrotus, from whom +you won four hundred sesterces." +</p> + +<p> +Phaon, who remembered the tavern, a visit, and winning +four hundred sesterces at one time or another, tried to make +himself believe that he won them from a young man, like the +one before him, and that his name was Cleombrotus. +</p> + +<p> +"Um! Yes, of course," he faltered. "I'm very glad to see +you. What brings you here?" +</p> + +<p> +"Business, business," complained Agias; "my master's a +grain merchant with dealings at Puteoli, and he has sent me +thither, to make some payments." Phaon pricked up his ears. +"The Via Appia is more direct, but there is less chance of +robbers by the Via Prænestina." +</p> + +<p> +"I hope your master can trust you not to lighten his pouch +on the way," remarked Phaon. +</p> + +<p> +"Well," chuckled Agias, "he'll have to take his risk. If +it's lost on the road, why, highwaymen stripped me. It is +one of the fortunes of trade." Phaon was fully convinced +that here was a fine chance to do some picking on his own +account. +</p> + +<p> +"Doubtless," he began, "you are not in such haste that you +cannot enjoy one of those thrushes that sheep of a landlord is +roasting for me. <i>Phui!</i> What a nasty place to have one's +horse give out in. You will give me at least a little company +to pass the time?" +</p> + +<p> +Agias affected reluctance; then as the host brought up the +birds, savory and hot, on an earthen platter, he gracefully +accepted the invitation. The thrushes and the rest of the bill +of fare, bacon, sweet nut-flavoured oil, bread, and the cheap +wine of the Campagna were not unwelcome, though Phaon +cursed the coarse food roundly. Then, when hunger had +begun to yield, Phaon suggested that Cleombrotus "try to +secure revenge for his losses on the Calends"; and Agias, +nothing loth, replied that he did not wish to risk a great sum; +but if a denarius were worth playing for, there was no objection +to venturing a few casts, and "he would ask the host to +bring them the gaming implements." +</p> + +<p> +So the landlord brought dice and dice boxes, and Phaon—who +had come to the conclusion that he had to deal with a +light-headed bumpkin, who represented merely so much fair +plunder—began to play with a careless heart. The landlord +brought more and more flagons of wine, wine that was mixed +with little water and was consequently very heady. But +the game—with some veering of fortune—went the freedman's +way. He won a denarius; then another; then a third; +lost a fourth time; won back everything and five denarii more; +and finally his opponent, heated with play, consented to stake +two gold pieces. +</p> + +<p> +"What did you say a minute ago to the landlord?" muttered +Phaon, feeling that the undiluted liquor was getting the best +of him. "This wine is very strong. It makes my head +ache." +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Phy!</i>" retorted Agias. "Who complains of good liquor? +I only told the host to set another lamp near us. Shall we +play again?" +</p> + +<p> +"By Zeus!" exclaimed the delighted freedman. "Here I +have cast four 'sixes' once more." And again he drained +the beaker. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Vah!</i>" sniffed Agias. "Luck will turn at last. Let us +play for real stakes. More wine, mine host! I will put down +ten philippi. This will be worth winning or losing." +</p> + +<p> +"As you say," gleefully chuckled Phaon, tossing the gold +on the table. "Yes, more wine, I say too. One always enjoys +play when his temples are all athrob." +</p> + +<p> +Agias quietly reached over, took up his opponent's dice +box, and rattled it, and appeared inspecting and fingering the +<i>tali</i>.<a name="r105" href="#fn105">[105]</a> "You have won your throws fairly," he said, handing +it back. "Now let us invoke the decision of Fortune once +more. A libation to the Genius of Good Luck!" And instead +of spilling out a few drops only, he canted the flagon too far +and spattered the wine on to the floor. +</p> + +<p> +"Heracles!" growled Phaon, "what a poor hazard! I have +thrown four 'ones'!" +</p> + +<p> +"And I have all 'fours' and 'sixes,'" cried Agias, in delight, +sweeping the money toward him. +</p> + +<p> +"The gods blast my luck," muttered the freedman, "I shall +be ruined at this rate." And he poured down more liquor. +"I have hardly five philippi left." +</p> + +<p> +"Come," shouted Agias, jumping up; "I make a fair offer. +Your five philippi against all my winnings." +</p> + +<p> +Phaon had a dim consciousness that he was getting very +drunk, that he ought to start at once for Præneste, and that it +was absolutely needful for him to have some money for bribes +and gratuities if he was not to jeopardize seriously the success +of his undertaking. But Agias stood before him exultant and +provoking. The freedman could not be induced to confess to +himself that he had been badly fleeced by a fellow he expected +to plunder. In drunken desperation he pulled out his last +gold and threw it on the table. +</p> + +<p> +"Play for that, and all the Furies curse me if I lose," he +stormed. +</p> + +<p> +Agias cast two "threes," two "fours." +</p> + +<p> +"I must better that," thundered the freedman, slapping the +tali out on to the table. +</p> + +<p> +"'Ones' again," roared Agias; "all four! you have +lost!" +</p> + +<p> +Phaon sprang up in a storm of anger, and struck over the +dice. "Three of them are 'sixes,'" he raged. "I have won! +You got loaded dice from the landlord, just now, when he +brought the wine!" +</p> + +<p> +"Not at all, you cheating scoundrel," retorted Agias, who +had already scooped in the money, "I have you fairly enough." +</p> + +<p> +"Fair?" shouted Phaon, dashing down the dice again, +"they are loaded! Lack-shame! Villain! Whipping-post! +Tomb-robber! Gallows-bird! You changed them when you +pretended to inspect them! Give me my money, thief, or—" +and he took a menacing but unsteady step toward Agias. +</p> + +<p> +The young Greek was ready for the emergency. He knew +that Phaon was almost overcome with his wine, and had no +dread of the issue. A stroke of his fist sent the freedman reeling +back against the wall, all the wind pounded from his chest. +"You born blackguard," coughed Phaon, "I won it." Agias +was renewing the attack, when the landlord interfered. Seizing +both of the gamesters by their cloaks, he pushed them out +a side door into the court-yard. "Out with you!" cried the +host. "Quarrel without, if you must! This is no place for +brawls." +</p> + +<p> +Phaon staggered a step or two out into the dark, then reeled +and fell heavily upon the dirty pavement. Agias prodded him +with his foot, but he was quite insensible. For the present +he was harmless enough. +</p> + +<p> +"My good host," said Agias, to the disquieted landlord, "I +did not ask you to give us an unmixed wine and those dice for +no purpose. This excellent gentleman here seems sadly in +need of a bed, where he must stay for some time. But since +I have won every sesterce he owns I must needs pay for his +board. Take good care of him, and here are six philippi +which are yours on condition that you keep him quiet until +to-morrow at this time, and suffer no one coming from Rome +to see him, or send him a message. To-morrow evening a +messenger from Præneste will come here, and if your guest +is still safe in your custody, you shall have six more gold +pieces. At that time, doubtless, you can let him go; but don't +violate my orders, or—" +</p> + +<p> +"Your excellency pays like a senator," said the landlord, +bowing, as he fingered the gold. "Trust me that your wishes +shall be obeyed." +</p> + +<p> +"They had better be," hinted Agias. "I am not what I +seem by my dress. If you disobey, fear the wrath of a man +before whom the world trembles!" +</p> + +<p> +"He must be an agent of Cæsar, or Pompeius," muttered +the landlord to himself. And Agias, having seen two serving-boys +tugging Phaon's prone weight away to a secluded hay-mow, +called for his refreshed Numidian, clattered out of the +filthy court, and rode away into the night, with the stars +burning above him. +</p> + + + + + +<h2 id="ch9">CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<h2>HOW GABINIUS MET WITH A REBUFF</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p> +Publius Gabinius, the boon comrade of Lucius Ahenobarbus, +differed little from many another man of his age in +mode of life, or variety of aspirations. He had run through +all the fashionable excitements of the day; was tired of horse-racing, +peacock dinners, Oriental sweethearts; tired even of +dice. And of late he had begun to grow morose, and his +friends commenced to think him rather dull company. +</p> + +<p> +But for some days he had found a new object of interest. +With Lucius Ahenobarbus he had been at the Circus Flaminius, +waiting for the races to begin, when he startled his friend by +a clutch on the arm. +</p> + +<p> +"Look!" was Gabinius's exclamation. "Is she not beautiful?" +</p> + +<p> +He pointed to where Fabia, the Vestal, was taking her seat +upon a cushion placed for her by a maid, and all the people +around were standing, very respectfully, until she was seated +The priestess was clothed in perfect white,—dress, ribbons, +fillet—a notable contrast to the brave show of purple, and +scarlet, and blue mantles all about her. +</p> + +<p> +"Beautiful? Yes," repeated Lucius, rather carelessly. +"But such birds are not for our net." +</p> + +<p> +"Are not?" repeated Gabinius, a little sharply. "What +makes you so sure of that?" +</p> + +<p> +"I hardly think that you will find my dear friend Quintus +Drusus's aunt, for so I understand she is," said Ahenobarbus, +"very likely to reciprocate your devotion." +</p> + +<p> +"And why not?" reiterated Gabinius, in a vexed tone. +</p> + +<p> +"My dear fellow," answered Lucius, "I won't argue with +you. There are plenty of women in Rome quite as handsome +as Fabia, and much younger, who will smile on you. Don't +meddle in a business that is too dangerous to be profitable." +</p> + +<p> +But Gabinius had been wrought up to a pitch of amorous +excitement, from which Ahenobarbus was the last one to move +him. For days he had haunted the footsteps of the Vestal; +had contrived to thrust himself as near to her in the theatre +and circus as possible; had bribed one of the Temple servants +to steal for him a small panel painting of Fabia; had, in fact, +poured over his last romance all the ardour and passion of an +intense, violent, uncontrolled nature. Gabinius was not the +kind of a man either to analyze his motives, or express himself +in the sobbing lyrics of a Catullus. He was thrilled with +a fierce passion, and knew it, and it only. Therefore he +merely replied to Lucius Ahenobarbus:— +</p> + +<p> +"I can't help myself. What does Terence say about a like +case? 'This indeed can, to some degree, be endured; night, +passion, liquor, young blood, urged him on; it's only human +nature.'"<a name="r106" href="#fn106">[106]</a> +</p> + +<p> +And all the afternoon, while the chariots ran, and wager +on wager marked the excitement of the cloud of spectators, +Gabinius had only eyes for one object, Fabia, who, perfectly +unconscious of his state of fascination, sat with flushed cheeks +and bright, eager eyes, watching the fortunes of the races, or +turned now and then to speak a few words to little Livia, who +was at her side. When the games were over, Gabinius struggled +through the crowd after the Vestal, and kept near to her +until she had reached her litter and the eight red-liveried +Cappadocian porters bore her away. Gabinius continued to +gaze after her until Fabia drew the leather curtains of her +conveyance and was hid from sight. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Perpol!"</i> reflected Gabinius. "How utterly enslaved I +am!" +</p> + + +<hr /> + +<p> +The following morning Fabia received a letter in a strange +hand, asking her to come to a villa outside the Porta Capena, +and receive a will from one Titus Denter, who lay dying. +The receiving and safe-keeping of wills was a regular duty of +Vestals, and Fabia at once summoned her litter, and started +out of the city, along the Via Appia, until, far out in the suburbs +where the houses were wide apart, she was set down +before the country-house indicated. A stupid-appearing slave-boy +received her at the gateway. The villa was old, small, and +in very indifferent repair. The slave could not seem to explain +whether it had been occupied of late, but hastened to declare +that his master lay nigh to death. There was no porter in +the outer vestibule.<a name="r107" href="#fn107">[107]</a> The heavy inner door turned slowly on +its pivot, by some inside force, and disclosed a small, darkened +atrium, only lighted by a clear sunbeam from the opening +above, that passed through and illumined a playing fountain. +A single attendant stood in the doorway. He was a tall, +gaunt man in servile dress, with a rather sickly smile on his +sharp yellow face. Fabia alighted from her litter. There +was a certain secluded uncanniness about the house, which +made her dislike for an instant to enter. The slave in the +door silently beckoned for her to come in. The Vestal informed +her bearers that she was likely to be absent some little +time, and they must wait quietly without, and not annoy a +dying man with unseemly laughter or loud conversation. +Then, without hesitancy, Fabia gathered her priestess's cloak +about her, and boldly entered the strange atrium. As she did +so, the attendant noiselessly closed the door, and what was +further, shot home a bolt. +</p> + +<p> +"There is no need for that," remarked the Vestal, who +never before in her life had experienced such an unaccountable +sense of disquietude. +</p> + +<p> +"It is my habit always to push the bolt," said the slave, +bowing, and leading the way toward the peristylium. +</p> + +<p> +"You are Titus Denter's slave?" asked Fabia. The other +nodded. "And your master is a very sick man?" +</p> + +<p> +"Your most noble ladyship shall judge for herself." +</p> + +<p> +"Take me to him at once, if he can see me." +</p> + +<p> +"He is waiting." +</p> + +<p> +The two went through the narrow passageway which led +from the outer court of the atrium into the inner court of the +peristylium. Fabia was surprised to see that here all the +marble work had been carefully washed clean, the little enclosed +garden was in beautiful order, and in various corners +and behind some of the pillars were bronze and sculptured +statues of really choice art. The slave stopped and pointed +to a couch upholstered in crimson, beside the fish tank, where +tame lampreys were rising for a bit of food. +</p> + +<p> +"Take me to your master!" repeated Fabia, puzzled by the +gesture. "I am not weary. You say he waits me?" +</p> + +<p> +"He will be here," replied the servant, with another bow. +</p> + +<p> +"Here?" exclaimed the Vestal, now really alarmed. "Here? +He, a man sick unto death?" +</p> + +<p> +"Certainly; here!" broke in a strange voice; and forth +from behind a pillar stepped Publius Gabinius, all pomaded +and rouged, dressed only in a gauzy, many-folded scarlet +<i>synthesis</i>.<a name="r108" href="#fn108">[108]</a> +</p> + +<p> +Fabia gave a scream and sprang back in instinctive alarm. +In the twinkling of an eye it flashed over her that for some +purpose or other she had been trapped. Gabinius she knew +barely by sight; but his reputation had come to her ears, and +fame spoke nothing good of him. Yet even at the moment +when she felt herself in the most imminent personal peril, the +inbred dignity and composed hauteur of the Vestal did not +desert her. At the selfsame instant that she said to herself, +"Can I escape through the atrium before they can stop me?" +recovering from her first surprise, and with never a quiver of +eyelash or a paling of cheek, she was saying aloud, in a tone +cold as ice, "And indeed, most excellent Gabinius, you must +pardon me for being startled; for all that I know of you tells +me that you are likely to find a sombre Vestal sorry enough +company." +</p> + +<p> +Gabinius had been counting coolly on a very noisy scene, +one of a kind he was fairly familiar with—an abundance of +screaming, expostulation, tearing of hair, and other manifestations +of feminine agony—to be followed, of course, by +ultimate submission to the will of all-dominant man. He +was not accustomed to have a woman look him fairly in the +eye and speak in tones, not of bootless fury, but of superior +scorn. And his answer was painfully lacking in the ascendant +volubility which would have befitted the occasion. +</p> + +<p> +"Forgive me; pardon; it was of course necessary to resort to +some subterfuge in order—in order to prevent your attendants +from becoming suspicious." +</p> + +<p> +Fabia cast a glance behind her, and saw that before the two +doors leading to the atrium her conductor and another tall +slave had placed themselves; but she replied in a tone a little +more lofty, if possible, than before:— +</p> + +<p> +"I cannot well, sir, understand you. Are you a friend of +Titus Denter, who is sick? I do not see that any subterfuge +is necessary when I am to receive the deposit of a will from a +dying man. It is a recognized duty of my office." +</p> + +<p> +Gabinius was still more at a loss. +</p> + +<p> +"You should certainly understand, lady," he began, cursing +himself for having to resort to circumlocutions, "that this is +my own villa, and I have not the pleasure of knowing Titus +Denter. I sent the letter because—" +</p> + +<p> +"Because, my worthy sir," interrupted Fabia, not however +raising her voice in the least, "you are weary of Greek flute-players +for sweethearts or such Roman young ladies as admire +either the ointments or the pimples of your face, and consequently +seek a little diversion by laying snares for a sacred +Vestal." +</p> + +<p> +Gabinius at last found free use for his tongue. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, lady; Lady Fabia," he cried, stretching out his arms +and taking a step nearer, "don't misjudge me so cruelly! I +will forsake anything, everything, for you! I have nothing +to dream of day or night but your face. You have served +your thirty years in the Temple, and can quit its service. +Why entertain any superstitious scruple against doing what +the law allows? Come with me to Egypt; to Spain; to Parthia; +anywhere! Only do not reject me and my entreaties! I will +do anything for your sake!" +</p> + +<p> +Critical as was her situation, Fabia could not refrain from +a sense of humour, when she saw and heard this creature—the +last intimate she would select in the world—pressing his suit +with such genuine passion. When she answered, an exasperating +smile was on her lips. +</p> + +<p> +"By Castor!" she replied, "the noble Gabinius is not a bad +tragedian. If he has nothing further to inform me than that +I am favoured by his good graces, I can only decline his proposals +with humble firmness, and depart." +</p> + +<p> +"By the immortal gods!" cried Gabinius, feeling that he +and not his would-be victim were like to go into a frenzy, +"you shan't go! I have you here. And here you shall +remain until I have your word that you will quit the Temple +service and fly with me to Egypt. If you won't have me as +your slave, I'll have you as your master!" And again he +advanced. +</p> + +<p> +"What restrains me here?" queried Fabia, sternly, the blood +sinking from her cheeks, but by step or by glance quailing not +in the least. "Who dare restrain or offer harm to a Vestal +of the Roman Republic?" +</p> + +<p> +"I!" shouted Gabinius in mad defiance, with a menacing +gesture. +</p> + +<p> +Fabia took a step toward him, and instinctively he fell back. +</p> + +<p> +"You?" she repeated, her black eyes, ablaze with the fire of +a holy indignation, searching Gabinius's impure heart through +and through. "You, little man? Are you fond of death, and +yet lack courage to drink the poison yourself?" +</p> + +<p> +"I dare anything!" cried Gabinius, getting more and more +uncontrolled. "This is my house. These are my slaves. +The high walls will cut off any screams you may utter in this +court. I have you in my power. You have placed yourself +in my hands by coming here. Refuse to do as I say, and a +charge will be laid against you before the <i>pontifices,</i><a name="r109" href="#fn109">[109]</a> that you +have broken the vow which binds every Vestal. All the +appearances will be against you, and you know what will follow +then!" +</p> + +<p> +Fabia grew a shade paler, if it were possible, than before. +</p> + +<p> +"I know," she replied, still very gently, "that an unfaithful +Vestal is buried alive in the Campus Sceleratus; but I know, +too, that her seducer is beaten to death with rods. Accuse +me, or attack me, and whatever be <i>my</i> fate, I can say that +which will send your black soul down to Tartarus with guilt +enough for Minos to punish. Your delicately anointed skin +would be sadly bruised by the stripes falling upon it. And +now, if these creatures will stand one side, I will leave you." +</p> + +<p> +And Fabia drew her mantle about her, and walked straight +past the awestruck slaves into the atrium, where she unbolted +the door and passed out. Gabinius stood gazing after her, +half-fascinated, half-dazed. Only when the door closed did +he burst out to one of the slaves:— +</p> + +<p> +"Timid dog, why did you let her escape?" +</p> + +<p> +"Dominus," whimpered the menial, "why did <i>you</i> let her +escape?" +</p> + +<p> +"Insolence!" cried Gabinius, seizing a staff, and beating +first one, then the other, of his servants indiscriminately; and +so he continued to vent his vexation, until Fabia's litter was +well inside the Porta Capena. +</p> + + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p> +Fabia had thus escaped from the clutches of Gabinius, and +the latter was sullen and foiled. But none the less the Vestal +was in a tremor of fear for the consequences of her meeting +with the libertine. She knew that Gabinius was determined, +dexterous, and indefatigable; that he was baffled, but not +necessarily driven to throw over his illicit quest. And Fabia +realized keenly that going as she had unattended into a strange +house, and remaining there some time with no friendly eye to +bear witness to her actions, would count terribly against her, +if Gabinius was driven to bay. She dared not, as she would +gladly have done, appear before the pontifices and demand of +them that they mete out due punishment on Gabinius for +grossly insulting the sanctity of a Vestal. Her hope was that +Gabinius would realize that he could not incriminate her without +ruining himself, and that he had been so thoroughly terrified +on reflection as to what might be the consequences to +himself, if he tried to follow the intrigue, that he would prudently +drop it. These considerations hardly served to lighten +the gloom which had fallen across Fabia's life. It was not so +much the personal peril that saddened her. All her life she +had heard the ugly din of the world's wickedness pass harmlessly +over her head, like a storm dashing at the doors of +some secluded dwelling that shielded its inhabitants from the +tempest. But now she had come personally face to face with +the demon of impurity; she had felt the fetid touch almost +upon herself; and it hurt, it sickened her. Therefore it was +that the other Vestals marvelled, asking what change had come +over their companion, to quench the mild sunshine of her life; +and Fabia held little Livia very long and very closely in her +arms, as if it were a solace to feel near her an innocent little +thing "unspotted of the world." +</p> + +<p> +All this had happened a very few days before the breathless +Agias came to inform Fabia of the plot against her nephew. +Perhaps, as with Cornelia, the fact that one near and dear +was in peril aided to make the consciousness of her own unhappiness +less keen. None could question Fabia's resolute +energy. She sent Agias on his way, then hurried off in her +litter in quest of Caius Marcellus, the consul. Æmilius +Paulus, the other consul, was a nonentity, not worth appealing +to, since he had virtually abdicated office upon selling his +neutrality to Cæsar. But Marcellus gave her little comfort. +She broke in upon the noble lord, while he was participating +in a drunken garden-party in the Gardens of Lucullus. The +consul—hardly sober enough to talk coherently—had declared +that it was impossible to start any troops that day to +Præneste. "To-morrow, when he had time, he would consider +the matter." And Fabia realized that the engine of government +would be very slow to set in motion in favour of a marked +Cæsarian. +</p> + +<p> +But she had another recourse, and hastened her litter down +one of the quieter streets of the Subura, where was the modest +house occupied by Julius Cæsar before he became Pontifex +Maximus. This building was now used by the Cæsarian +leaders as a sort of party headquarters. Fabia boldly ordered +the porter to summon before her Curio—whom she was sure +was in the house. Much marvelling at the visit of a Vestal, +the slave obeyed, and in a few moments that tribune was in +her presence. +</p> + +<p> +Caius Scribonius Curio was probably a very typical man of +his age. He was personally of voluptuous habits, fearfully +extravagant, endowed with very few scruples and a very weak +sense of right and wrong. But he was clear-headed, energetic, +a good orator, a clever reasoner, an astute handler of men, +courageous, versatile, full of recourse, and on the whole above +the commission of any really glaring moral infraction. He +was now in his early prime, and he came before Fabia as a +man tall, athletic, deep-chested, deep-voiced, with a regular +profile, a clear, dark complexion, curly hair carefully dressed, +freshly shaven, and in perfect toilet. It was a pleasure, in +short, to come in contact with such a vigorous, aggressive +personality, be the dark corners of his life what they might. +</p> + +<p> +Curio yielded to no man in his love of Lucrine oysters and +good Cæcuban wine. But he had been spending little time on +the dining couch that evening. In fact he had at that moment +in his hand a set of tablets on which he had been writing. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Salve! Domina!</i>" was his greeting, "what unusual honour +is this which brings the most noble Vestal to the trysting spot +of us poor Populares." +</p> + +<p> +And, with the courtesy of a gentleman of the world, he +offered Fabia an armchair. +</p> + +<p> +"Caius Curio," said the Vestal, wasting very few words, +"do you know my nephew, Quintus Drusus of Præneste?" +</p> + +<p> +"It is an honour to acknowledge friendship with such an +excellent young man," said Curio, bowing. +</p> + +<p> +"I am glad to hear so. I understand that he has already +suffered no slight calamity for adhering to your party." +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Vah!</i>" and the tribune shrugged his shoulders. "Doubtless +he has had a disagreeable time with the consul-elect, but from +all that I can hear, the girl he lost was hardly one to make his +life a happy one. It's notorious the way she has displayed her +passion for young Lucius Ahenobarbus, and we all know what +kind of a man <i>he</i> is. But I may presume to remark that your +ladyship would hardly come here simply to remind me of this." +</p> + +<p> +"No," replied Fabia, directly, "I have come here to appeal to +you to do something for me which Marcellus the consul was +too drunk to try to accomplish if he would." +</p> + +<p> +Fabia had struck the right note. Only a few days before +Appius Claudius, the censor, had tried to strike Curio's name +from the rolls of the Senate. Piso, the other censor, had resisted. +There had been an angry debate in the Senate, and +Marcellus had inveighed against the Cæsarian tribune, and had +joined in a furious war of words. The Senate had voted to +allow Curio to keep his seat; and the anti-Cæsarians had paraded +in mourning as if the vote were a great calamity. +</p> + +<p> +Curio's eyes lit up with an angry fire. +</p> + +<p> +"Lump of filth! Who was he, to disoblige you!" +</p> + +<p> +"You will understand," said Fabia, still quietly; and then +briefly she told of the conspiracy against the life of Drusus, so +far as she had gathered it. +</p> + +<p> +"Where did you learn all this," queried Curio, "if I may +venture to ask?" +</p> + +<p> +"From Agias, the slave of Cornelia, niece of Lentulus." +</p> + +<p> +"But what is Drusus to her?" demanded the marvelling +tribune. +</p> + +<p> +"He is everything to her. She has been trying to win her +way into Ahenobarbus's confidence, and learn all of the plot." +</p> + +<p> +A sudden light seemed to break over the face of the politician. +He actually smiled with relieved pleasure, and cried, "<i>Papæ!</i> +Wonderful! I may be the farthest of all the world from Diogenes +the Cynic; but a man cannot go through life, unless he +has his eyes shut, and not know that there are different kinds +of women. I was sorry enough to have to feel that a girl like +Cornelia was becoming one of Clodia's coterie. After all, the +world isn't so bad as we make it out to be, if it is Curio the profligate +who says it." +</p> + +<p> +"But Drusus, my nephew?" exclaimed Fabia. "He is in +frightful danger. You know Dumnorix will have a great band +of gladiators, and there is no force in Præneste that can be +counted on to restrain him." +</p> + +<p> +"My dear lady," said Curio, laughing, "I am praising the +happy Genius that brought you here. We Cæsarians are taught +by our leaders never to desert a friend in need; and Drusus has +been a very good friend to us, especially by using all his influence, +very successfully, for our cause among the Prænestians +and the people of those parts. When did you say that Dumnorix +would pass through the town?" +</p> + +<p> +"Early to-morrow, possibly," replied the Vestal. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Phui!</i> Dismiss all care. I'll find out at once how many +gladiators he took with him to Anagnia. Some of his gang will +be killed in the games there, and more will be wounded and +weak or disabled. I am tribune, and I imagine I ought not to +be out of the city over night,<a name="r110" href="#fn110">[110]</a> but before daybreak to-morrow I +will take Antonius and Sallustius and Quintus Cassius; and +perhaps I can get Balbus and our other associates to go. We +will arm a few slaves and freedmen; and it will be strange indeed +if we cannot scatter to the four winds Dumnorix's gladiators, +before they have accomplished any mischief." +</p> + +<p> +"The gods reward you!" said Fabia, simply. "I will go back +to the Temple, and pray that my nephew be kept from harm; +and you also, and your friends who will defend him." +</p> + +<p> +Curio stood in the atrium a long time after the Vestal had +left. +</p> + +<p> +"The gods reward you!" he repeated. "So <i>she</i> believes in +the gods, that there are gods, and that they care for us struggling +men. Ah! Caius, Caius Curio; if the mob had murdered +you that day you protected Cæsar after he spoke in the Senate +in favour of the Catilinarians, where would you be to-day? +Whence have you come? Whither do you go? What assurance +have you that you can depend on anything, but your own +hand and keen wits? What is to become of you, if you are +knocked on the head in that adventure to-morrow? And yet +that woman believes there are gods! What educated man is +there that does? Perhaps we would, if we led the simple lives +our fathers did, and that woman lives. Enough of this! I +must be over letters to Cæsar at Ravenna till midnight: and +then at morn off to gallop till our horses are foundered." +</p> + + + + + +<h2 id="ch10">CHAPTER X</h2> + +<h2>MAMERCUS GUARDS THE DOOR</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p> +Agias left Phaon in the clutches of the landlord and his +subordinates and was reasonably certain that since the freedman +had not a farthing left with which to bribe his keepers, +he was out of harm's way for the time being. The moon was +risen, and guided by its light the young slave flew on toward +Præneste without incident. Whatever part of the conspirator's +plans depended on Phaon was sure to collapse. For the +rest, Agias could only warn Drusus, and have the latter arm +his clients and slaves, and call in his friends from the town. +With such precautions Dumnorix could hardly venture to risk +himself and his men, whatever might be the plot. +</p> + +<p> +Thus satisfied in mind, Agias arrived at the estate of the +Drusi, close to Præneste, and demanded admittance, about two +hours before midnight. He had some difficulty in stirring up +the porter, and when that worthy at last condescended to unbar +the front door, the young Greek was surprised and dismayed +to hear that the master of the house had gone to visit a +farm at Lanuvium, a town some fifteen miles to the south. +Agias was thunderstruck; he had not counted on Drusus being +absent temporarily. But perhaps his very absence would cause +the plot to fail. +</p> + +<p> +"And what time will he return?" asked Agias. +</p> + +<p> +"What time?" replied the porter, with a sudden gleam of +intelligence darting up in his lack-lustre eyes. "We expect he +will return early to-morrow morning. But the road from Lanuvium +is across country and you have to skirt the Alban Mount. +He may be rather late in arriving, drives he ever so hard." +</p> + +<p> +"Hercules!" cried the agitated messenger. "My horse is +blown, and I don't know the road in the dark. Send, I pray +you—by all the gods—to Lanuvium this instant." +</p> + +<p> +"Aye," drawled the porter, "And wherefore at such an +hour?" +</p> + +<p> +"It's for life and death!" expostulated Agias. +</p> + +<p> +The porter, who was a thick-set, powerful man, with a +bristly black beard, and a low forehead crowned by a heavy +shock of dark hair, at this instant thrust out a capacious paw, +and seized Agias roughly by the wrist. +</p> + +<p> +"Ha, ha, ha, young cut-throat! I wondered how long this +would last on your part! Well, now I must take you to Falto, +to get the beginning of your deserts." +</p> + +<p> +"Are you mad, fellow?" bawled Agias, while the porter, +grasping him by the one hand, and the dim lamp by the other, +dragged him into the house. "Do you know who I am? or +what my business is? Do you want to have your master +murdered?" +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Perpol!</i> Not in the least. That's why I do as I do. Tell +your story to Falto. <i>Eho!</i> What's that you've got under +your cloak?" And he pounced upon a small dagger poor Agias +had carried as a precaution against eventualities. "I imagine +you are accustomed to use a little knife like this." And the +fellow gave a gleeful chuckle. +</p> + +<p> +It was in vain that Agias expostulated and tried to explain. +The porter kept him fast as a prisoner, and in a few moments +by his shouts had aroused the whole sleeping household, and +stewards, freedmen, and slaves came rushing into the atrium. +Candelabra blazed forth. Torches tossed. Maids screamed. +Many tongues were raised in discordant shout and question. +At last order was in some measure restored. Agias found himself +before a tribunal composed of Falto, the subordinate <i>villicus</i>,<a name="r111" href="#fn111">[111]</a> +as chief judge, and two or three freedmen to act in +capacity of assessors. All of this bench were hard, grey-headed, +weazened agriculturists, who looked with no very +lenient eye upon the delicate and handsome young prisoner +before them. Agias had to answer a series of savagely propounded +questions which led he knew not whither, and which +he was almost too bewildered to answer intelligently. The true +state of the case only came over him by degrees. These were +the facts. Drusus had known that there was a conspiracy +against his life, and had taken precautions against poisoning +or being waylaid by a small band of cut-throats such as he +imagined Ahenobarbus might have sent to despatch him. He +had not expected an attack on the scale of Dumnorix's whole +band; and he had seen no reason why, accompanied by the +trusty Mamerci and Cappadox, he should not visit his Lanuvian +farm. The whole care of guarding against conspirators +had been left to Marcus Mamercus, and that worthy ex-warrior +had believed he had taken all needed precautions. He +had warned the porter and the other slaves and freedmen to +be on the lookout for suspicious characters, and had let just +enough of the plot—as it was known to him—leak out, to put +all the household on the <i>qui vive</i> to apprehend any would-be +assassin of their beloved young master. But with that fatuity +which often ruins the plans of "mice and men," he had failed +to inform even his subordinate Falto of the likelihood of Agias +arriving from Rome. It had obviously been desirable that it +should not be bruited among the servants that Cornelia and +Drusus were still communicating, and when Agias was haled +into the atrium, his only identification was by some over-zealous +slave, who declared that the prisoner belonged to the +familia of Lentulus Crus, the bitter foe of their master. +</p> + +<p> +With senses unduly alert the porter, as soon as he was aroused +from his slumbers, had noticed that evening that Agias had +come on some unusual business, and that he was obviously confused +when he learned that Drusus was not at home. With his +suspicions thus quickened, every word the luckless Greek +uttered went to incriminate him in the mind of the porter. +Agias was certainly an accomplice in the plot against Drusus, +sent to the house at an unseasonable hour, on some dark errand. +The porter had freely protested this belief to Falto and his +court, and to support his indictment produced the captured +dagger, the sure sign of a would-be murderer. Besides, a +large sum of gold was found on Agias's person; his fast Numidian +horse was still steaming before the door—and what honest +slave could travel thus, with such a quantity of money? +</p> + +<p> +Agias tried to tell his story, but to no effect; Falto and his +fellow-judges dryly remarked to one another that the prisoner +was trying to clear himself, by plausibly admitting the existence +of the conspiracy, but of course suppressing the real +details. Agias reasoned. He was met with obstinate incredulity. +He entreated, prayed, implored. The prejudiced rustics +mocked at him, and hinted that they cared too much for their +patron to believe any tale that such a manifest impostor +might tell them. Pausanias, the Mamerci, and Cappadox, the +only persons, besides Drusus, who could readily identify him, +were away at Lanuvium. +</p> + +<p> +The verdict of guilty was so unanimous that it needed little +or no discussion; and Falto pronounced sentence. +</p> + +<p> +"Mago," to the huge African, "take this wretched boy to +the slave-prison; fetter him heavily. On your life do not let +him escape. Give him bread and water at sunrise. When +Master Drusus returns he will doubtless bid us crucify the villain, +and in the morning Natta the carpenter shall prepare two +beams for the purpose." +</p> + +<p> +Agias comforted himself by reflecting that things would +hardly go to that terrible extremity; but it was not reassuring +to hear Ligus, the crabbed old cellarer, urge that he be made to +confess then and there under the cat. Falto overruled the +proposition. "It was late, and Mamercus was the man to extort +confession." So Agias found himself thrust into a filthy cell, +lighted only by a small chink, near the top of the low stone +wall, into which strayed a bit of moonlight. The night he +passed wretchedly enough, on a truss of fetid straw; while the +tight irons that confined him chafed his wrists and ankles. +Needless to add, he cursed roundly all things human and heavenly, +before he fell into a brief, troubled sleep. In the morning +Mago, who acted as jailer, brought him a pot of water and +a saucer of uncooked wheat porridge;<a name="r112" href="#fn112">[112]</a> and informed him, with +a grin, that Natta was making the beams ready. Agias contented +himself by asking Mago to tell Drusus about him, as +soon as the master returned. "You are very young to wish to +die," said the Libyan, grimly. Agias did not argue. Mago +left him. By climbing up a rude stool, Agias could peer +through the loophole, which by great luck commanded a fairly +ample view of the highway. Drusus he naturally expected +would come from the south, toward Præneste. And thence +every moment he trembled lest Dumnorix's gang should appear +in sight. But every distant dust-cloud for a long time resolved +itself sooner or later into a shepherd with a flock of unruly +sheep, or a wagon tugged by a pair of mules and containing a +single huge wine-skin. Drusus came not; Dumnorix came +not. Agias grew weary of watching, and climbed painfully +down from the stool to eat his raw porridge. Hardly had he +done so than a loud clatter of hoofs sounded without. With a +bound that twisted his confined ankles and wrists sadly, Agias +was back at his post. A single rider on a handsome bay horse +was coming up from the direction of Rome. As he drew near +to the villa, he pulled at his reins, and brought his steed down +to a walk. The horseman passed close to the loophole, and +there was no mistaking his identity. Agias had often seen +that pale, pimpled face, and those long effeminate curls in company +with Lucius Ahenobarbus. The rider was Publius Gabinius, +and the young Greek did not need to be told that his +coming boded no good to Drusus. Gabinius looked carefully +at the villa, into the groves surrounding it, and then up and +down the highway. Then he touched the spur to his mount, +and was gone. +</p> + +<p> +Agias wrung his manacled hands. Drusus would be murdered, +Cornelia's happiness undone, and he himself would +become the slave of Lucius Ahenobarbus, who, when he had +heard Phaon's story, would show little enough of mercy. He +cursed the suspicious porter, cursed Falto, cursed every slave +and freedman on the estate, cursed Mamercus for not leaving +some word about the possibility of his coming from Rome. +Agias's imprecations spent themselves in air; and he was none +the happier. Would Drusus never come? The time was drifting +on. The sun had been up three or more hours. At any +instant the gladiators might arrive. +</p> + +<p> +Then again there was a clatter of hoofs, at the very moment +when Agias had again remounted to the loophole. There were +voices raised in questions and greetings; slave-boys were +scampering to and fro to take the horses; Drusus with Pausanias +and the Mamerci had returned from Lanuvium. Agias +pressed his head out the loophole and screamed to attract +attention. His voice could not penetrate the domestic hubbub. +Drusus was standing shaking hands with a couple of clients +and evidently in a very good humour over some blunt rustic +compliment. Mago was nowhere to be seen. Agias glanced +up the road toward Præneste. The highway was straight and +fairly level, but as it went over a hill-slope some little way off, +what was that he saw upon it?—the sun flashing on bright +arms, which glinted out from the dust-cloud raised by a considerable +number of men marching! +</p> + +<p> +"Drusus! Master Drusus!" Agias threw all his soul +into the cry. As if to blast his last hope, Drusus hastily +bowed away the salves and aves of the two clients, turned, +and went into the villa. Agias groaned in agony. A very +few moments would bring Dumnorix to the villa, and the +young slave did not doubt that Gabinius was with the lanista +to direct the attack. Agias tore at his chains, and cursed +again, calling on all the Furies of Tartarus to confound the +porter and Falto. Suddenly before the loophole passed a +slave damsel of winning face and blithesome manner, humming +to herself a rude little ditty, while she balanced a large +earthen water-pot on her head. It was Chloë, whom the +reader has met in the opening scene of this book, though +Agias did not know her name. +</p> + +<p> +"By all the gods, girl!" he cried frantically, "do you +want to have your master slaughtered before your very +eyes?" +</p> + +<p> +Chloë stopped, a little startled at this voice, almost from +under her feet. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, you, Master Assassin!" she sneered. "Do you want +to repeat those pretty stories of yours, such as I heard you +tell last night?" +</p> + +<p> +"Woman," cried Agias, with all the earnestness which +agony and fear could throw into face and voice, "go this +instant! Tell Master Drusus that Dumnorix and his gang +are not a furlong<a name="r113" href="#fn113">[113]</a> away. They mean to murder him. Say +that I, Agias, say so, and he, at least, will believe me. You +yourself can see the sun gleaming on their steel as they march +down the hill." +</p> + +<p> +Perhaps it was the sight which Agias indicated, perhaps it +was his earnest words, perhaps it was his handsome face—Chloë +was very susceptible to good looks—but for some cause +she put down the pot and was off, as fast as her light heels +could carry her, toward the house. +</p> + + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p> +Drusus had ridden hard to get back early from Lanuvium +and write some letters to Cornelia, for he had expected that +Agias would come on that very afternoon, on one of his regular, +though private, visits; and he wished to be able to tell +Cornelia that, so long a time had elapsed since he had been +warned against Ahenobarbus and Pratinas, and as no attempt +at all had been made on his life, her fears for him were probably +groundless and the plot had been for some cause abandoned. +Drusus himself was weary, and was glad to shake off +the little knot of clients and retire to his chamber, preparatory +for a bath and a change of clothes. He had seen Falto, but +the latter deemed it best not to trouble his patron at the time +by mentioning the prisoner. Mago, too, concluded that it was +best to defer executing his promise. Drusus was just letting +Cappadox take off his cloak, when the shrill voice of Chloë +was heard outside the door, expostulating with the boy on +guard. +</p> + +<p> +"I must see the dominus at once. It's very important." +</p> + +<p> +"Don't you see, you idiot, that you can't while he's dressing?" +</p> + +<p> +"I <i>must!</i>" screamed Chloë. And, violating every law of +subordination and decorum, she threw open the door. +</p> + +<p> +Cappadox flew to eject her, but Chloë's quick tongue did its +work. +</p> + +<p> +"A lad who calls himself Agias is chained in the ergastulum. +He says some gladiators are going to attack the house, +and will be here in a moment! Oh, I am so frightened!" +and the poor girl threw her mantle over her head, and began +to whimper and sob. +</p> + +<p> +"Agias!" shouted Drusus, at the top of his voice. "In +the ergastulum? <i>Per deos immortales!</i> What's this? Mamercus! +Falto!" +</p> + +<p> +And the young master rushed out of the room, Cappadox, +who like lightning had caught up a sword, following him. +</p> + +<p> +Falto came running from the stables; Mamercus from the +garden. Drusus faced his two subordinates, and in an eye's +twinkling had taken in the situation. Mamercus, who felt +within himself that he, by his oversight, had been the chief +blunderer, to vent his vexation smote Falto so sound a cuff +that the under villicus sprawled his full length. +</p> + +<p> +"Go to the ergastulum and fetch Agias this instant," cried +Drusus, in thundering accents, to the trembling Mago, who +had appeared on the scene. +</p> + +<p> +Mago disappeared like magic, but in an instant a din was +rising from the front of the house,—cries, blows, clash of +steel. Into the peristylium, where the angry young master +was standing, rushed the old slave woman, Laïs. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Hei! hei!</i>" she screamed, "they are breaking in! Monsters! +a hundred of them! They will kill us all!" +</p> + +<p> +Drusus grew calm in an instant. +</p> + +<p> +"Barricade the doors to the atrium!" he commanded, "while +I can put on my armour. You, Mamercus, are too old for this +kind of work; run and call in the field-hands, the clients, and +the neighbours. Cappadox, Falto, and I can hold the doors +till aid comes." +</p> + +<p> +"I run?" cried the veteran, in hot incredulity, while with +his single hand he tore from its stout leather wall-fastenings +a shield that had been beaten with Punic swords at the +Metaurus.<a name="r114" href="#fn114">[114]</a> "I run?" he repeated, while a mighty crash told +that the front door had given way, and the attackers were +pouring into the atrium. And the veteran had thrust a venerable +helmet over his grizzled locks, and was wielding his shield +with his handless left arm, while a good Spanish short-sword +gleamed in his right hand. +</p> + +<p> +The others had not been idle. Cappadox had barred both +doors leading into the front part of the house. Drusus had +armed, and Falto,—a more loyal soul than whom lived not,—burning +to retrieve his blunder, had sprung to his patron's side, +also in shield and helm. +</p> + +<p> +"They will soon force these doors," said Drusus, quietly, +growing more composed as closer and closer came the actual +danger. "Falto and I will guard the right. Cappadox and +you, Mamercus, if you will stay, must guard the left. Some +aid must come before a great while." +</p> + +<p> +But again the veteran whipped out an angry oath, and +thundered, "You stay, you soft-fingered Quintus! You stay +and face those German giants! Why, you are the very man +they are after! Leave fighting to an old soldier! Take him +away, Cappadox, if you love him!" +</p> + +<p> +"I will never leave!" blazed forth Drusus. "My place is +here. A Livian always faces his foes. Here, if needs be, I +will die." But before he could protest further, Cappadox had +caught him in his powerful arms, and despite his struggles +was running with him through the rear of the house. +</p> + +<p> +Pandemonium reigned in the atrium. The gladiators were +shivering fine sculptures, ripping up upholstery, swearing in +their uncouth Celtic or German dialects, searching everywhere +for their victim in the rooms that led off the atrium. A voice +in Latin was raising loud remonstrance. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Ædepol!</i> Dumnorix, call off your men! Phaon hasn't +led our bird into the net. We shall be ruined if this keeps on! +Drusus isn't here!" +</p> + +<p> +"By the Holy Oak, Gabinius," replied another voice, in +barbarous Latin, "what I've begun I'll end! I'll find Drusus +yet; and we won't leave a soul living to testify against us! +You men, break down that door and let us into the rest of +the house!" +</p> + +<p> +Mamercus heard a rush down one of the passages leading +to the peristylium. The house was almost entirely deserted, +except by the shrieking maids. The clients and freedmen and +male slaves were almost all in the fields. The veteran, Falto, +and Pausanias, who had come in, and who was brave enough, +but nothing of a warrior, were the only defenders of the +peristylium. +</p> + +<p> +"You two," shouted Mamercus, "guard the other door! +Move that heavy chest against it. Pile the couch and cabinet +on top. This door I will hold." +</p> + +<p> +There was the blow of a heavy mace on the portal, and the +wood sprang out, and the pivots started. +</p> + +<p> +"Leave this alone," roared Mamercus, when his two helpers +paused, as if to join him. "Guard your own doorway!" +</p> + +<p> +"Down with it!" bellowed the voice of the leaders without. +"Don't let the game escape! Strike again!" +</p> + +<p> +Crash! And the door, beaten from its fastenings by a +mighty stroke, tumbled inward on to the mosaic pavement of +the peristylium. The light was streaming bright and free +into that court, but the passageway from the atrium was +shrouded in darkness. Mamercus, sword drawn, stood across +the entrance. +</p> + +<p> +"By the god Tarann!"<a name="r115" href="#fn115">[115]</a> shouted Dumnorix, who from the +rear of his followers was directing the attack. "Here is a +stout old game-cock! Out of the way, greybeard! We'll +spare you for your spirit. Take him, some of you, alive!" +</p> + +<p> +Two gigantic, blond Germans thrust their prodigious bodies +through the doorway. Mamercus was no small man, but slight +he seemed before these mighty Northerners. +</p> + +<p> +The Germans had intended to seize him in their naked +hands, but something made them swing their ponderous long +swords and then, two flashes from the short blade in the hand +of the veteran, and both the giants were weltering across the +threshold, their breasts pierced and torn by the Roman's murderous +thrusts. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Habet!</i>" cried Mamercus. "A fair hit! Come on, you +scum of the earth; come on, you German and Gallic dogs; do +you think I haven't faced the like of you before? Do you +think your great bulks and fierce mustaches will make a soldier +of Marius quiver? Do you want to taste Roman steel +again?" +</p> + +<p> +And then there was a strange sight. A phantasm seemed to +have come before every member of that mad, murderous band; +for they saw, as it were, in the single champion before them, a +long, swaying line of men of slight stature like him; of men +who dashed through their phalanxes and spear hedges; who +beat down their chieftains; whom no arrow fire, no sword-play, +no stress of numbers, might stop; but who charged home with +pilum and short-sword, and defeated the most valorous enemy. +</p> + +<p> +"Ha! Dogs!" taunted Mamercus, "you have seen Romans +fight before, else you were not all here, to make sport for our +holiday!" +</p> + +<p> +"He is Tyr,<a name="r116" href="#fn116">[116]</a> the 'one-armed,' who put his left hand in the +jaws of Fenris-wolf!" cried a German, shrinking back in +dread. "A god is fighting us!" +</p> + +<p> +"Fools!" shouted Gabinius from a distance. "At him, and +cut him down!" +</p> + +<p> +"Cut him down!" roared Dumnorix, who had wits enough +to realize that every instant's delay gave Drusus time to escape, +or collect help. +</p> + +<p> +There was another rush down the passage; but at the narrow +doorway the press stopped. Mamercus fought as ten. His +shield and sword were everywhere. The Roman was as one +inspired; his eyes shone bright and clear; his lips were parted +in a grim, fierce smile; he belched forth rude soldier oaths +that had been current in the army of fifty years before. +Thrusting and parrying, he yielded no step, he sustained no +wound. And once, twice, thrice his terrible short-sword found +its sheath in the breast of a victim. In impotent rage the +gladiators recoiled a second time. +</p> + +<p> +"Storm the other door!" commanded Dumnorix. +</p> + +<p> +The two defenders there had undertaken to pile up furniture +against it; but a few blows beat down the entire barrier. +Falto and Pausanias stood to their posts stoutly enough; but +there was no master-swordsman to guard this entrance. The +first gladiator indeed went down with a pierced neck, but the +next instant Falto was beside him, atoning for his stupid folly, +the whole side of his head cleft away by a stroke from a Gallic +long-sword. +</p> + +<p> +"One rush and we have the old man surrounded," exhorted +Dumnorix, when only Pausanias barred the way. +</p> + +<p> +There was a growl and a bound, and straight at the foremost +attacker flew Argos, Mamercus's great British mastiff, who had +silently slipped on to the scene. The assailant fell with the +dog's fangs in his throat. Again the gladiators recoiled, and +before they could return to the charge, back into the peristylium +rushed Drusus, escaped from Cappadox, with that +worthy and Mago and Agias, just released, at his heels. +</p> + +<p> +"Here's your man!" cried Gabinius, who still kept discreetly +in the rear. +</p> + +<p> +"Freedom and ten <i>sestertia</i><a name="r117" href="#fn117">[117]</a> to the one who strikes Drusus +down," called Dumnorix, feeling that at last the game was in +his hands. +</p> + +<p> +But Mamercus had made of his young patron an apt pupil. +All the fighting blood of the great Livian house, of the consulars +and triumphators, was mantling in Drusus's veins, and +he threw himself into the struggle with the deliberate courage +of an experienced warrior. His short-sword, too, found its +victims; and across Falto's body soon were piled more. And +now Drusus was not alone. For in from the barns and fields +came running first the servants from the stables, armed with +mattocks and muck-forks, and then the farm-hands with their +scythes and reaping hooks. +</p> + +<p> +"We shall never force these doors," exclaimed Gabinius, in +despair, as he saw the defenders augmenting. +</p> + +<p> +Dumnorix turned to his men. +</p> + +<p> +"Go, some of you. Enter from behind! Take this rabble +from the rear. In fair fight we can soon master it." +</p> + +<p> +A part of the gladiators started to leave the atrium, Gabinius +with them. An instant later he had rushed back in blank +dismay. +</p> + +<p> +"Horsemen! They are dismounting before the house. There +are more than a score of them. We shall be cut to pieces." +</p> + +<p> +"We have more than fifty," retorted Dumnorix, viciously. +"I will sacrifice them all, rather than have the attack fail!—" But +before he could speak further, to the din of the fighting at +the doors of the peristylium was added a second clamour without. +And into the atrium, sword in hand, burst Caius Curio, +and another young, handsome, aquiline-featured man, dressed +in a low-girt tunic, with a loose, coarse mantle above it,—a +man known to history as Marcus Antonius, or "Marc Antony "; +and at their backs were twenty men in full armour. +</p> + +<p> +The courage of the lanista had failed him. Already Drusus's +reinforcements in the peristylium had become so numerous and +so well armed that the young chieftain was pushing back the +gladiators and rapidly assuming the offensive. Gabinius was +the first to take flight. He plunged into one of the rooms off +the atrium, and through a side door gained the open. The +demoralized and beaten gladiators followed him, like a flock of +sheep. Only Dumnorix and two or three of his best men stood +at the exit long enough to cover, in some measure, the retreat. +</p> + +<p> +Once outside, the late assailants gained a temporary respite, +owing to the fact that the defenders had been disorganized by +their very victory. +</p> + +<p> +"We have lost," groaned Gabinius, as the lanista drew his +men together in a compact body, before commencing his +retreat. +</p> + +<p> +"We are alive," growled Dumnorix. +</p> + +<p> +"We cannot go back to Rome," moaned the other. "We +are all identified. No bribe or favour can save us now." +</p> + +<p> +"A robber's life is still left," retorted Dumnorix, "and we +must make of it what we can. Some of my men know these +parts, where they have been slaves, before coming to my hands. +We must strike off for the mountains, if we live to get there." +</p> + +<p> +All that day the country was in a turmoil. The Prænestean +senate had met in hasty session, and the <i>decurions</i><a name="r118" href="#fn118">[118]</a> ordered +the entire community under arms to hunt down the disturbers +of the peace. Not until nightfall did Dumnorix and a mere +remnant of his band find themselves able, under the shadow +of the darkness, to shake off the pursuit. Gabinius was still +with him. Curio and Antonius had chased them down with +their horsemen; many of the gladiators had been slain, many +more taken. For the survivors only the life of outlaws remained. +The fastnesses of the Apennines were their sole +safety; and thither—scarce daring to stop to pillage for +victuals—they hurried their weary steps. +</p> + + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p> +Lucius Ahenobarbus spent that day in frightful anxiety. +One moment he was fingering Drusus's money bags; the next +haunted by the murdered man's ghost. When he called on +Cornelia, her slaves said she had a headache and would receive +no one. Pratinas held aloof. No news all day—the suspense +became unendurable. He lived through the following +night harassed by waking visions of every conceivable calamity; +but toward morning fell asleep, and as was his wont, +awoke late. The first friend he met on the street was Calvus, +the young poet and orator. +</p> + +<p> +"Have you heard the news from Præneste?" began Calvus. +</p> + +<p> +"News? What news?" +</p> + +<p> +"Why, how Dumnorix's gang of gladiators attacked the +villa of your distant relative, Quintus Drusus, and were beaten +off, while they tried to murder him. A most daring attempt! +But you will hear all about it. I have a case at the courts and +cannot linger." +</p> + +<p> +And Calvus was gone, leaving Ahenobarbus as though he +had been cudgelled into numbness. With a great effort he collected +himself. After all, Dumnorix's gladiators were nothing +to him. And when later he found that neither Dumnorix, nor +Gabinius, nor Phaon had been taken or slain at Præneste, he +breathed the easier. No one else except Pratinas, he was certain, +knew <i>why</i> the lanista had made his attack; and there +was no danger of being charged with complicity in the conspiracy. +And so he was able to bear the stroke of ill-fortune with +some equanimity, and at last rejoice that his dreams would no +longer be haunted by the shade of Drusus. He was in no +mood to meet Pratinas, and the smooth Greek evidently did +not care to meet him. He went around to visit Cornelia again—she +was still quite indisposed. So he spent that morning +with Servius Flaccus playing draughts, a game at which his +opponent was so excessively stupid that Ahenobarbus won at +pleasure, and consequently found himself after lunch<a name="r119" href="#fn119">[119]</a> in a +moderately equable humour. Then it was he was agreeably +surprised to receive the following note from Cornelia. +</p> + +<p> +"Cornelia to her dearest Lucius, greeting. +</p> + +<p> +I have been very miserable these past two days, but this +afternoon will be better. Come and visit me and my uncle, +for there are several things I would be glad to say before you +both. Farewell." +</p> + +<p> +"I think," remarked Lucius to himself, "that the girl wants +to have the wedding-day hastened. I know of nothing else to +make her desire both Lentulus and myself at once. I want to +see her alone. Well, I cannot complain. I'll have Drusus's +bride, even if I can't have his money or his life." +</p> + +<p> +And so deliberating, he put on his finest saffron-tinted synthesis, +his most elegant set of rings, his newest pair of black +shoes,<a name="r120" href="#fn120">[120]</a> and spent half an hour with his hairdresser; and thus +habited he repaired to the house of the Lentuli. +</p> + +<p> +"The Lady Cornelia is in the Corinthian hall," announced +the slave who carried in the news of his coming, "and there +she awaits you." +</p> + +<p> +Lucius, nothing loth, followed the servant. A moment and +he was in the large room. It was empty. The great marble +pillars rose cold and magnificent in four stately rows, on all +sides of the high-vaulted apartment. On the walls Cupids +and blithesome nymphs were careering in fresco. The floor +was soft with carpets. A dull scent of burning incense from +a little brazier, smoking before a bronze Minerva, in one +corner of the room, hung heavy on the air. The sun was +shining warm and bright without, but the windows of the hall +were small and high and the shutters also were drawn. Everything +was cool, still, and dark. Only through a single aperture +shot a clear ray of sunlight, and stretched in a radiant bar +across the gaudy carpets. +</p> + +<p> +Lucius stumbled, half groping, into a chair, and seated himself. +Cornelia had never received him thus before. What +was she preparing? Another moment and Lentulus Crus +entered the darkened hall. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Perpol!</i> Ahenobarbus," he cried, as he came across his +prospective nephew-in-law, "what can Cornelia be wanting of +us both? And in this place? I can't imagine. Ah! Those +were strange doings yesterday up in Præneste. I would +hardly have put on mourning if Drusus had been ferried over +the Styx; but it was a bold way to attack him. I don't know +that he has an enemy in the world except myself, and I can +bide my time and pay off old scores at leisure. Who could have +been back of Dumnorix when he blundered so evidently?" +</p> + +<p> +Ahenobarbus felt that it was hardly possible Lentulus would +condemn his plot very severely; but he replied diplomatically:— +</p> + +<p> +"One has always plenty of enemies." +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Mehercle!</i> of course," laughed the consul-elect, "what +would life be without the pleasure of revenge! But why does +my niece keep us waiting? Jupiter, what can she want of +us?" +</p> + +<p> +"Uncle, Lucius, I am here." And before them, standing +illumined in the panel of sunlight, stood Cornelia. Ahenobarbus +had never seen her so beautiful before. She wore a flowing +violet-tinted stola, that tumbled in soft, silky flounces down +to her ankles, and from beneath it peered the tint of her +shapely feet bound to thin sandals by bright red ribbons. +Her bare rounded arms were clasped above and below the +elbow and at the wrists by circlets shaped as coiled serpents, +whose eyes were gleaming rubies. At her white throat was +fastened a necklace of interlinked jewel-set gold pendants +that shimmered on her half-bare shoulders and breast. In +each ear was the lustre of a great pearl. Her thick black hair +fell unconfined down her back; across her brow was a frontlet +blazing with great diamonds, with one huge sapphire in their +midst. As she stood in the sunlight she was as a goddess, an +Aphrodite descended from Olympus, to drive men to sweet +madness by the ravishing puissance of her charms. +</p> + +<p> +"Cornelia!" cried Lucius, with all the fierce impure admiration +of his nature welling up in his black heart, "you are an +immortal! Let me throw my arms about you! Let me kiss +you! Kiss your neck but once!" And he took a step +forward. +</p> + +<p> +"Be quiet, Lucius," said Cornelia, speaking slowly and with +as little passion as a sculptured marble endued with the powers +of speech. "We have other things to talk of now. That is +why I have called you here; you and my uncle." +</p> + +<p> +"Cornelia!" exclaimed the young man, shrinking back as +though a sight of some awful mystery had stricken him with +trembling reverence, "why do you look at me so? Why do your +eyes fasten on me that way? What are you going to do?" +</p> + +<p> +It was as if he had never spoken. Cornelia continued +steadily, looking straight before her. +</p> + +<p> +"Uncle, is it your wish that I become the wife of Lucius +Ahenobarbus?" +</p> + +<p> +"You know it is," replied Lentulus, a little uneasily. He +could not see where this bit of affection on the part of his +niece would end. He had never heard her speak in such a tone +before. +</p> + +<p> +"I think, uncle," went on Cornelia, "that before we say anything +further it will be well to read this letter. It was sent to +me, but both you and Lucius will find it of some interest." +And she held out two or three wax tablets. +</p> + +<p> +Lentulus took them, eager to have done with the by-play. +But when he saw on the binding-cords the seal—which, though +broken, still showed its impression—he gave a start and +exclamation. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Perpol!</i> The seal of Sextus Flaccus, the great capitalist." +</p> + +<p> +"Certainly, why should it not be from him?" +</p> + +<p> +Lentulus stepped nearer to the light, and read: Lucius +standing by and hanging on every word, Cornelia remaining +at her previous station rigid as the bronze faun on the pedestal +at her elbow. Lentulus read:— +</p> + +<p> +"Sextus Fulvius Flaccus, to the most noble lady Cornelia:— +</p> + +<p> +If you are well it is well with me. +</p> + +<p> +Perhaps you have heard how the plots of the conspirators +against my dear friend and financial client Quintus Drusus +have been frustrated, thanks, next to the god, to the wit and +dexterity of Agias, who has been of late your slave. Drusus +as soon as he had fairly beaten off the gladiators sent at once +for me, to aid him and certain other of his friends in taking +the confession of one Phaon, the freedman of Lucius Ahenobarbus, +whom Agias had contrived to entrap in Gabii, and hold +prisoner until the danger was over. Phaon's confession puts +us in complete possession of all the schemes of the plotters; +and it will be well for you to inform that worthy young gentleman, +Lucius Ahenobarbus, that I only forbear to prosecute +him, and Pratinas, who really made him his supple tool, +because I am a peaceable man who would not bring scandal +upon an old and noble family. If, however, anything should +befall Drusus which should indicate that fresh plots against +his life were on foot, let Ahenobarbus be assured that I can no +more regard him so leniently. I may add that since it was +through a marriage with you that Ahenobarbus expected to +profit by the murder, I have already advised Drusus that, +according to the decisions of several of the most eminent +<i>jurisconsulti</i>,<a name="r121" href="#fn121">[121]</a> a property provision such as his father inserted +in his will would not be binding, especially in view of the +present facts of the case. Drusus has accordingly prepared a +new will which, if questioned, I shall defend in the courts with +all my power. Farewell." +</p> + +<p> +Lentulus turned and glared with sullen amazement at his +niece. That Ahenobarbus should conspire against Drusus +seemed the most natural thing in the world. That the news +that the conspiracy had failed should come from such a +quarter, and through the hands of his own niece, at once terrified +and angered him. Lucius was standing gaping, in half +horror, half fascination, at Cornelia. Had she not urged him +on? Had she not almost expressed her wish for Drusus's +blood? The name of Flaccus fell on his heart like a stone; +for the great banker never went back when he had taken a +stand, and was rich enough to corrupt the most lax and merciful +jury. Ahenobarbus felt a trap snap upon him, and yet +he had no hope of revenge. +</p> + +<p> +"Cornelia," cried Lentulus, regaining at last the powers of +speech, "why was this letter sent to you? What to you is +that wretched youth, Quintus Drusus, who escaped a fate he +richly deserved? Why do you not condole with your lover +on his misfortune? What do you mean by your stony stare, +your—" +</p> + +<p> +"I mean," retorted Cornelia, every word coming as a deep +pant from her heaving chest, while her fingers clasped and +unclasped nervously, and the blood surged to her pallid +cheeks, "I mean that I need no longer profess to love what +I hate; to cherish what I despise; to fondle what I loathe; +to cast soft looks on that which I would pierce with daggers!" +And she in turn took a step, quick and menacing, toward her +wretched lover, who cowered and shrank back into the shadow +of a pillar. +</p> + +<p> +"But you yourself said you hoped I would soon rid you of +Drusus," howled Lucius. +</p> + +<p> +"Fool!" hissed the woman, through her clenched teeth. +"Didn't you know that all that I said, all that I did, all that I +thought, was for this end—how might I save Quintus by learning +the plans of the wretch who thirsted for his blood? Do +you feel paid, now, for all your labours to secure the +wealth of a man whose name should not be uttered beside +that of yours?" +</p> + +<p> +"And you do not love me!" screamed Ahenobarbus, +springing at her, as if to force his arms around her neck. +</p> + +<p> +"Dog!" and Cornelia smote him so fairly in the face that +he shrank back, and pressed his hand to a swelling cheek. +"I said I hated and despised you. What I despise, though, is +beneath my hate. I would tread on you as on a viper or a +desert asp, as a noxious creature that is not fit to live. I have +played my game; and though it was not I who won, but Agias +who won for me, I am well content. Drusus lives! Lives to +see you miserably dead! Lives to grow to glory and honour, +to happiness and a noble old age, when the worms have long +since finished their work on you!" +</p> + +<p> +"Girl," thundered Lentulus, fiercely, "you are raving! +Ahenobarbus is your affianced husband. Rome knows it. +I will compel you to marry him. Otherwise you may well +blush to think of the stories that vulgar report will fasten +around your name." +</p> + +<p> +But Cornelia faced him in turn, and threw her white arms +aloft as though calling down some mightier power than human +to her aid; and her words came fast:— +</p> + +<p> +"What Rome says is not what my heart says! My heart +tells me that I am pure where others are vile; that I keep +truth where others are false; that I love honourably where +others love dishonourably. I knew the cost of what I would +do for Drusus's sake; and, though the vilest slave gibber and +point at me, I would hold my head as proudly as did ever a +Cornelian or Claudian maiden; for I have done that which +my own heart tells me was right; and more than that or less +than that, can no true woman do!" +</p> + +<p> +Ahenobarbus felt the room spinning round him. He saw +himself ruined in everything that he had held dear. He +would be the laughing-stock of Rome; he, the hero of a +score of amorous escapades, the darling of as many patrician +maidens, jilted by the one woman to whom he had become +the abject slave. Courage came from despair. +</p> + +<p> +"Be silent!" he gasped, his face black with fury. "If +every word you say were true, yet with all the more reason +would I drag you in my marriage procession, and force you +to avow yourself my wife. Never have I been balked of +woman; and you, too, with all your tragic bathos, shall learn +that, if you won't have me for a slave, I'll bow your neck to +my yoke." +</p> + +<p> +"I think the very noble Lucius Ahenobarbus," replied +Cornelia, in that high pitch of excitement which produces a +calm more terrible than any open fury, "will in person be +the protagonist in a tragedy very sorry for himself. For I +can assure him that if he tries to make good his threat, I +shall show myself one of the Danaides, and he will need his +funeral feast full soon after the wedding banquet." +</p> + +<p> +"Woman!" and Lentulus, thoroughly exasperated, broke in +furiously. "Say another word, and I with my own hands will +flog you like a common slave." +</p> + +<p> +Cornelia laughed hysterically. +</p> + +<p> +"Touch me!" she shouted; and in her grasp shone a small +bright dagger. +</p> + +<p> +Lentulus fell back. There was something about his niece +that warned him to be careful. +</p> + +<p> +"Wretched girl!" he commanded, "put down that dagger." +</p> + +<p> +"I will not," and Cornelia stood resolutely, confronting her +two persecutors; her head thrown back, and the light making +her throat and face shine white as driven snow. +</p> + +<p> +There was very little chivalry among the ancients. Lentulus +deliberately clapped his hands, and two serving-men appeared. +</p> + +<p> +"Take that dagger from the Lady Cornelia!" commanded the +master. The men exchanged sly glances, and advanced to accomplish +the disarming. +</p> + +<p> +But before they could catch Cornelia's slender wrists in their +coarse, rough hands, and tear the little weapon from her, there +were cuts and gashes on their own arms; for the struggle if +brief was vicious. Cornelia stood disarmed. +</p> + +<p> +"You see what these mock heroics will lead to," commented +Lentulus, with sarcastic smile, as he observed his order had +been obeyed. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>You</i> will see!" was her quick retort. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Hei! hei!</i>" screamed one of the slaves an instant later, +sinking to the floor. "Poison! It's running through my veins! +I shall die!" +</p> + +<p> +"You will die," repeated Cornelia, in ineffable scorn, spurning +the wretch with her foot. "Lie there and die! Cease +breathing; sleep! And that creature, Ahenobarbus, yonder, +shall sleep his sleep too, ere he work his will on me! Ha! ha! +Look at my handiwork; the other slave is down!" +</p> + +<p> +"Girl! Murderess!" raged Lentulus. "What is this? You +have slain these men." +</p> + +<p> +"I have slain your slaves," said Cornelia, resolutely folding +her arms; "the poison on the dagger was very swift. You did +excellently well, Lucius, not to come near me." And she picked +up the dagger, which the slave, writhing in agony, had dropped. +</p> + +<p> +"Do you wish to attack me again? <i>Phy!</i> I have more resources +than this. This venom works too quickly. See, Syrax +is already out of his misery; and his fellow will soon be beyond +reach of woe. When I strike <i>you</i>, Lucius Ahenobarbus, you +shall die slowly, that I may enjoy your pain. What need have +I of this weapon?" And she flung the dagger across the carpet +so that it struck on the farther wall. "Pick it up, and come +and kill me if you wish! Drusus lives, and in him I live, for +him I live, and by him I live. And you—and you are but as +evil dreams in the first watch of a night which shall be forgotten +either in sweet unending slumbers, or the brightness of the +morning. And now I have spoken. Do with me as it lies in +your power to do; but remember what power is mine. <i>Vale!</i>" +</p> + +<p> +And Cornelia vanished from the darkened hall. The two +men heard the click of the door, and turned and gazed blankly +into one another's faces. +</p> + +<p> +"The gods defend me, but I shall be yoked to one of the +Diræ!" stammered Ahenobarbus. +</p> + + + + + +<h2 id="ch11">CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<h2>THE GREAT PROCONSUL</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p> +The plot was foiled. Drusus was unquestionably safe. So +long as Flaccus had the affidavits of Phaon's confession and +the depositions of the captured gladiators stored away in his +strong-box, neither Lucius Ahenobarbus nor the ever versatile +Pratinas would be likely to risk a new conspiracy—especially +as their intended victim had carefully drawn up a will leaving +the bulk of his property to Titus Mamercus and Æmilia. +Drusus had no near relatives, except Fabia and Livia; unless +the Ahenobarbi were to be counted such; and it pleased him +to think that if aught befell him the worthy children of his +aged defender would acquire opulence. +</p> + +<p> +But after the excitement was over, after Phaon had been +brought up from the inn at Gabii to Præneste, and there had +the truth wormed out of him by the merciless cross-examination +of Curio and Flaccus; after the freedman had been suffered +to depart with a warning and threat to his prompters, after +the captured gladiators had been crucified along the roadway +leading toward Rome, and the wreck left in the atrium of the +villa caused by the attack had been cleared away,—after all +this, then the reaction came. Drusus, indeed, found that +though the sun shone bright, its brightness was not for him. +He had friends in plenty; but not such friends as he needed—as +his heart craved. Truth to tell, he was one of those +more delicate natures to whom the average pity and the +ordinary demonstrations of sympathy come with an offending +jar, and open, not heal, long-festering wounds. Curio was +kind, but could only hold out the vaguest hopes that, for the +present at least, anything would compel the consul-elect to +consent to his niece's marriage with a mortal enemy. Flaccus +took the same position. The hard-headed man of money +thought that Drusus was a visionary, to be so distraught over +the loss of a wife—as if the possession of a fortune of thirty +odd millions did not make up for every possible calamity. +Antonius was still less happy in his efforts at consolation. +This dashing young politician, who had been equally at home +basking in the eyes of the young Egyptian princess, Cleopatra, +eight years before, when he was in the East with Aulus Gabinius, +or when fighting the Gauls as he had until recently under +his uncle, the great proconsul,—had now been elected Tribune +of the Plebs for the coming year; and was looking forward to +a prosperous and glorious career in statecraft. He had had +many a love intrigue, and made such matters a sort of recreation +to the real business of life. Why Drusus—who certainly +had very fair worldly prospects before him—should not console +himself for one unsuccessful passage of arms with Cupid, +by straightway engaging in another, he could not see. He +plainly intimated to his friend that there were a great many +women, almost if not quite as good looking as Cornelia, who +would survey him with friendly eyes if he made but a few +advances. And Drusus, wounded and stung, was thrown back +on himself; and within himself he found very little comfort. +</p> + +<p> +Although he believed himself safe at last from the wiles of +Ahenobarbus and his Greek coadjutors, there was still a great +dread which would steal over Drusus lest at any moment a +stroke might fall. Those were days when children murdered +parents, wives husbands, for whim or passion, and very little +came to punish their guilt. The scramble for money was +universal. Drusus looked forth into the world, and saw little +in it that was good. He had tried to cherish an ideal, and +found fidelity to it more than difficult. His philosophy +did not assure him that a real deity existed. Death ended +all. Was it not better to be done with the sham of life; +to drink the Lethe water, and sink into eternal, dreamless +slumber? He longed unspeakably to see Cornelia face to face; +to kiss her; to press her in his arms; and the desire grew and +grew. +</p> + +<p> +She was no longer in the capital. Her uncle had sent her +away—guarded by trusty freedmen—to the villa of the +Lentuli at Baiæ. The fashionable circles of the great city +had made of her name a three days' scandal, of which the +echo all too often came to Drusus's outraged ears. His only +comfort was that Ahenobarbus had become the butt and +laughing-stock of every one who knew of his repulse by his +last inamorata. Then at last Drusus left Præneste for Rome. +Ahenobarbus and Pratinas were as well checked as it was +possible they could be, and there was no real ground to dread +assassination while in the city, if moderate precautions were +taken. Then too the time was coming when the young man +felt that he could accomplish something definite for the party +for which he had already sacrificed so much. +</p> + +<p> +The events clustering around Dumnorix's unsuccessful attack +had made Drusus a sort of hero in the eyes of the Prænesteans. +They had years before elected his father as their patron, their +legal representative at Rome, and now they pitched upon the +son, proud to have this highly honourable function continued +in the same family. This election gave Drusus some little +prestige at the capital, and some standing in the courts and +politics. When he went to Rome it was not as a mere individual +who had to carve out his own career, but as a man of +honour in his own country, a representative of a considerable +local interest, and the possessor of both a noble pedigree and +an ample fortune. +</p> + +<p> +Curio found him plenty to do; wire-pulling, speech-making, +private bargaining,—all these were rife, for everybody +knew that with the first of January, when Lentulus became +consul, the fortunes of Cæsar were to be made or marred irretrievably. +There were rumours, always rumours, now of +Cæsar, now of Pompeius. The proconsul was going to march +on Rome at once, and put all his enemies to the sword. +Pompeius was to be proclaimed dictator and exterminate all +who adhered to the anti-senatorial party. And into this <i>mêlée</i> +of factions Drusus threw himself, and found relief and inspiration +in the conflict. His innate common-sense, a very considerable +talent for oratory which had received a moderate +training, his energy, his enthusiasm, his incorruptibility, his +straightforwardness, all made him valuable to the Cæsarians, +and he soon found himself deep in the counsels of his party, +although he was too young to be advanced as a candidate for +any public office. +</p> + +<p> +Agias continued with him. He had never formally deeded +the boy to Cornelia, and now it was not safe for the lad to be +sent to dwell at Baiæ, possibly to fall into the revengeful +clutches of Phaon, or Pratinas, or Ahenobarbus. Drusus had +rewarded Agias by giving him his freedom; but the boy had +nowhere to go, and did not desire to leave Quintus's service; +so he continued as a general assistant and understrapper, to +carry important letters and verbal messages, and to aid his +patron in every case where quick wits or nimble feet were +useful. He went once to Baiæ, and came back with a letter +from Cornelia, in which she said that she was kept actually as +a prisoner in her uncle's villa, and that Lentulus still threatened +to force Ahenobarbus upon her; but that she had prepared +herself for that final emergency. +</p> + +<p> +The letter came at a moment when Drusus was feeling the +exhilaration of a soldier in battle, and the missive was depressing +and maddening. What did it profit if the crowd roared +its plaudits, when he piled execration on the oligarchs from +the Rostra, if all his eloquence could not save Cornelia one +pang? Close on top of this letter came another disquieting +piece of information, although it was only what he had +expected. He learned that Lentulus Crus had marked him +out personally for confiscation of property and death as a +dangerous agitator, as soon as the Senate could decree martial +law. To have even a conditional sentence of death hanging +over one is hard to bear with equanimity. But it was too late +for Drusus to turn back. He had chosen his path; he had +determined on the sacrifice; he would follow it to the end. +And from one source great comfort came to him. His aunt, +Fabia, had always seen in him her hero. With no children +of her own, with very little knowledge of the world, she had +centred all her hopes and ambitions on her sister's son; and +he was not disappointing her. She dreamed of him as consul, +triumphator, and dictator. She told him her hopes. She +applauded his sacrifice. She told him of the worthies of old, +of Camillus, of the Scipios, of Marcellus, the "Sword of +Rome," of Lucius Æmilius Paulus, and a host of others, good +men and true, whose names were graven on the fabric of the +great Republic, and bade him emulate them, and be her perfect +Fabian and Livian. And from his aunt Drusus gained +infinite courage. If she was not Cornelia, yet it was a boon +ineffable to be able to hear a pure, loving woman tell him face +to face that her heart suffered when he suffered, and that all +his hopes and fears were hers. +</p> + +<p> +Finally an interlude came to Quintus's political activity. +Curio was becoming uneasy, lest his distant superior should +fail to realize the full venom of the Senate party and the +determination of his enemies to work his ruin. +</p> + +<p> +"I must go to Ravenna," said the politician to his young +associate. "My tribuneship is nearly run out. Antonius and +Cassius will take my place in the office. And you, who have +done so much for Cæsar, must go also, for he loves to meet and +to know all who are his friends." +</p> + +<p> +"To Cæsar I will go," answered Drusus; and of himself +he asked, "What manner of man will this prove, whom I am +serving? A selfish grasper of power? Or will he be what +I seek—a man with an ideal?" +</p> + + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p> +Night was falling on the dark masses of the huge Prætorium, +the government-house and army barracks of the provincial +capital of Ravenna. Outside, sentinels were changing +guard; Roman civil officials and provincials were strolling in +the cool of the porticos. Laughter, the shout of loungers at +play, broke the evening silence. But far in the interior, +where there was a secluded suite of rooms, nothing but the +tinkle of a water-duct emptying into a cistern broke the stillness, +save as some soft-footed attendant stole in and out across +the rich, thick carpet. +</p> + +<p> +The room was small; the ceiling low; the frescos not elaborate, +but of admirable simplicity and delicacy. The furniture +comprised merely a few divans, chairs, and tripods, but all of +the choicest wood or brass, and the most excellent upholstery. +One or two carved wooden cupboards for books completed the +furnishings. +</p> + +<p> +There were only two persons in the room. One of them,—a +handsome young Hellene, evidently a freedman, was sitting +on a low chair with an open roll before him. His companion +half sat and half lay on a divan near by. This second person +was a man of height unusual to Italians of his day; his cheeks +were pale and a little sunken; his dark eyes were warm, penetrating; +his mouth and chin mobile and even affable, but not +a line suggested weakness. The forehead was high, massive, +and was exaggerated by a semi-baldness which was only partially +concealed by combing the dark, grey-streaked hair +forward. He was reclining; if he had arisen he would have +displayed a frame at once to be called soldierly, though +spare and hardly powerful. To complete the figure it should +be added that on one finger he wore a large ring set with a +very beautiful seal of an armed Venus; and over his loose but +carefully arranged tunic was thrown a short, red mantle, +caught together on the left shoulder—the paludamentum, a +garment only worn by Roman military officers of the very +highest rank. +</p> + +<p> +The general—for so his dress proclaimed him—was playing +with a stylus and a waxen tablet, while the young +Greek read. Now and then he would bid the latter pause +while he made a few notes. The book was Euripides's +"Troades." +</p> + +<p> +"Read those lines again," interrupted the general. The +voice was marvellously flexile, powerful, and melodious. +</p> + +<p> +And the freedman repeated:— +</p> + + +<blockquote> +<p> +"Sow far and wide, plague, famine, and distress;<br /> +Make women widows, children fatherless;<br /> +Break down the altars of the gods, and tread<br /> +On quiet graves, the temples of the dead;<br /> +Play to life's end this wicked witless game<br /> +And you will win what knaves and fools call Fame!"<a name="r122" href="#fn122">[122]</a> +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +The freedman waited for his superior to ask him to continue, +but the request did not come. The general seemed lost in a +reverie; his expressive dark eyes were wandering off in a kind +of quiet melancholy, gazing at the glass water-clock at the end +of the room, but evidently not in the least seeing it. +</p> + +<p> +"I have heard enough Euripides to-day," at length he remarked. +"I must attend to more important matters. You +may leave me." +</p> + +<p> +The Greek rolled up the volume, placed it in the cupboard, +and left the room with noiseless step. The general had arisen, +and was standing beside the open window that looked out into +a quiet little court. It was dark. The lamps of the room +threw the court-yard into a sombre relief. Overhead, in the +dimming, violet arch of the sky, one or two faint stars were +beginning to twinkle. +</p> + + +<blockquote> +<p> +"Play to life's end this wicked witless game<br /> +And you will win what knaves and fools call Fame!" +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +repeated the general, leaning out from the stone work of the +window-casing in order to catch the cool air of the court. +"Yes, fame, the fame of a Xerxes; perhaps the fame of a +Hannibal—no, I wrong the Carthaginian, for he at least struck +for his country. And what is it all worth, after all? Does +Agamemnon feel that his glory makes the realm of Hades +more tolerable? Does not Homer set forth Achilles as a +warrior with renown imperishable? And yet, 'Mock me not,' +he makes the shade of Achilles say; 'Better to be the hireling +of a stranger and serve a man of mean estate, whose living is +but small, than be the monarch over all those dead and gone.'" +</p> + +<p> +The general leaned yet farther out, and looked upward. +"These were the stars that twinkled over the Troy of Priam; +these were the stars that shone on Carthage when she sent +forth her armies and her fleets, and nigh drove the Greeks +from Sicily; and these are the stars which will shine when +Rome is as Troy and Carthage. And I—I am an atom, a +creature of chance, thrown out of the infinite to flash like a +shooting star for a moment across a blackened firmament and +then in the infinite to expire. <i>Cui bono?</i> Why should I +care how I live my life, since in a twinkling it will all be as +if it had never been? And if Cato and Domitius and Lentulus +Crus have their way with me, what matter? What matter +if a stab in the dark, or open violence, or the sham forms of +justice end this poor comedy? I and all others play. All +comedy is tragedy, and at its merriest is but dolorous stuff. +While the curtain stays down<a name="r123" href="#fn123">[123]</a> we are sorry actors with the +whole world for our audience, and the hoots mingle full often +with the applause. And when the curtain rises, that which +is good, the painstaking effort, the labour, is quickly forgotten; +the blunders, the false quantities in our lives, are treasured up +to be flung against our names. We play, but we do not know +our parts; we are Oedipus, who has committed unwitting sin, +and yet must reap his reward; we are Prometheus who is to +be chained to the rock forever, for offending the gods; we are +Orestes whom the Eumenides pursue, chasing him down for +his guilt. And all the time we vainly imagine that we are +some victorious hero, some Perseus, especially favoured by the +gods to fare scatheless over land and sea, and bear away the +Medusa's head, and live renowned and happy forever." The +reverie was becoming deeper and deeper; the Roman was beginning +no longer to whisper merely to himself, he was half +declaiming; then of a sudden, by a quick revolution of mind, +he broke short the thread of his monologue. "<i>Phui!</i> Caius, you +are ranting as if you were still a youth at Rhodes, and Apollonius +Molo were just teaching you rhetoric! Why has no +letter come from Curio to-day? I am anxious for him. There +may have been a riot. I hadn't expected that those excellent +'Optimates' would begin to murder tribunes quite so soon. +The carrier is late!" and the general moved away from the +window, and took from a cupboard a package of tablets, which +he ran over hastily. "Here are the despatches of yesterday. +None to-day. I fear the worst." The brow of the solitary +speaker grew darker. "Poor Curio, poor Antonius; if they've +dared to murder them, let them tremble. I could forgive a +mortal enemy to myself, but not one who had slaughtered a +friend." +</p> + +<p> +There were steps in the court below, and voices were raised. +In an instant the general's eyes were kindled, his frame on a +poise. He sprang to the window, and shouted down the dark +court. +</p> + +<p> +"Curio! Do I hear you speaking?" +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Salve!</i> Cæsar. It is I!" +</p> + +<p> +"Venus be praised!" and the proconsul, with almost undignified +haste, was running out upon the stairs to meet his friend. +"Has the city broken out? Has Antonius been murdered? +Is the truce at an end? Are you alone?" +</p> + +<p> +And Curio, who did not quite possess his leader's ability to +"do all things at the same time," answered in a breath: "The +city so far keeps tolerable order. Antonius is safe. The consuls +and Senate still keep the peace; but so poorly that I +thought it my duty to come to you and say things that cannot +go in a letter." +</p> + +<p> +"And who is this young man with you?" +</p> + +<p> +"My friend," said Curio, turning to his companion, "is +Quintus Livius Drusus, of whom I have had occasion to write +no little." +</p> + +<p> +The proconsul sprang forward and seized Drusus by both +hands, and looked him fairly in the eye. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Papæ!</i> I see Sextus Drusus once more, the best tribune in +his legion, and my dear friend. Your face should be cause +for your welcome, if nothing else. Ah! how much we shall +have to say! But you are travel-stained and weary. Words +will keep while you bathe, and our dinner is prepared; for I +myself have not dined, waiting, as I thought, for your despatches." +</p> + +<p> +"Your excellency shows me too much courtesy," said Drusus, +bowing in what was, to tell truth, some little embarrassment; +"it is not fit that a young man like myself should dine at the +same table with an imperator before whom nations have +trembled." +</p> + +<p> +And then it was that Drusus caught his first glimpse of +that noble and sententious egotism which was a characteristic +of the great proconsul. +</p> + +<p> +"To be a friend of Cæsar is to be the peer of kings." +</p> + +<p> +Drusus bowed again, and then, with Curio, followed the +attendants who were leading them to comfortably, though not +sumptuously, furnished apartments. +</p> + + +<hr /> + +<p> +Quintus Drusus in years to come sat at the boards of many +great men, enjoyed their conversation, entered into their hopes +and fears, but he never forgot the first dinner with the proconsul +of the Gauls. Cæsar kept a double table. His hospitality +was always ready for the people of note of the district where +he happened to be staying, and for his own regular army officers. +But he dined personally with such high-rank Romans +and very noble Provincials as chanced to be with him from +day to day. To this last select company Drusus found himself +that evening admitted; and in fact he and Curio were the proconsul's +only personal guests. The dinner itself was more +remarkable for the refinement of the whole service, the exquisite +chasteness of the decorations of the dining room, the excellent +cooking of the dishes, and the choiceness of the wines +than for any lavish display either of a great bill of fare, or of an +ostentatious amount of splendour. The company of officers and +gentlemen of the Ravenna district dined together in a spacious +hall, where Drusus imagined they had a rather more bounteous +repast than did the immediate guests of their entertainer. At +one end of this large hall was a broad alcove, raised a single +step, and here was laid the dinner for the proconsul. Cæsar +passed through the large company of his humbler guests, followed +by Curio and Drusus,—now speaking a familiar word +to a favourite centurion; now congratulating a country visitor +on his election to his local Senate; now introducing the new-comers +to this or that friend. And so presently Drusus found +himself resting on his elbow on the same couch with Cæsar, +while Curio occupied the other end. For a time the latter +held by far the larger part of the conversation in his hands. +There were a myriad tales to tell of politics at the capital, a +myriad warnings to give. Cæsar listened to them all; and +only rarely interrupted, and then with words so terse and +penetrating that Drusus marvelled. The proconsul seemed to +know the innermost life history and life motives of everything +and everybody. He described a character with an epithet; +he fathomed a political problem with an expletive. Only now +and then did his words or motions betray any deep personal +concern or anxiety, and once only did Drusus see him flush +with passion. +</p> + +<p> +"That affair of the magistrate of Coma, to whom you gave +the franchise," said Curio, "was extremely unfortunate. You +of course heard long ago how Marcellus, the consul, had him +beaten with rods and sent home, to show<a name="r124" href="#fn124">[124]</a>—as he said—to +you, Cæsar, the print of his stripes." +</p> + +<p> +The face of the proconsul reddened, then grew black with +hardly reined fury. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, most unfortunate for Marcellus." It was all that +Cæsar said, but Drusus would not have exchanged his life then, +for that of Marcellus, for a thousand talents of gold. +</p> + +<p> +"And our dear friend, Cato," went on Curio, who was perhaps +not unwilling to stir the vials of his superior's wrath, +"has just sworn with an oath in public, that as soon as your +army is disbanded he will press an impeachment against you; +and I've heard it reported that you will be compelled to plead, +like Milo when he was tried for the Clodius affair, before +judges overawed by armed men." +</p> + +<p> +"I anticipate no such proceeding," said Cæsar, dryly, in an +accent of infinite contempt. Then turning to Drusus, he +entirely changed his intonation. +</p> + +<p> +"So long," he said, with a shrug of his rather slight shoulders, +"we have talked of comitias and senates! Praise to the gods, +all life is not passed in the Forum or Curia! And now, my +dear Quintus, let us put aside those tedious matters whereof +we all three have talked and thought quite enough, and tell +me of yourself; for, believe me, our friendship would be one-sided +indeed, if all your trouble and exertion went for me, and +you received no solicitude in return." +</p> + +<p> +And Drusus, who had at first found his words coming awkwardly +enough, presently grew fluent as he conversed with the +proconsul. He told of his student days at Athens, of his studies +of rhetoric and philosophy, of his journey back to Præneste, +and the incidents of the sea voyage, and land travel; of his +welcome at Præneste by the old retainers and the familia of +the Drusi, and then of his recent political work at Rome. +</p> + +<p> +"These have been the chief events of my life, Cæsar," he +concluded, "and since you have condescended to hear, I have +ventured to tell; but why need I ask if such a commonplace +tale of a young man who has yet his life to live, should interest +you?" +</p> + +<p> +Cæsar smiled, and laying down the beaker from which he +was sipping very slowly, replied:— +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Mehercle!</i> And do you wish to have all your exploits +crowded into a few short years of youth, that mature age will +have nothing to surpass? Listen,—I believe that when the +historians, by whom our dear Cicero is so anxious to be remembered +favourably, write their books, they will say something +of my name,—good or bad, the Genius knows,—but fame at +least will not be denied me. Twelve years ago when I was in +Spain I was reading in some book of the exploits of Alexander +the Great. Suddenly it seemed as though I could not control +myself. I began to weep; and this was the explanation I gave +to my friends, 'I have just cause to weep, when I consider that +Alexander at my age had conquered so many nations, and I +have all this time done nothing that is memorable.'" +</p> + +<p> +"But even when your excellency went into Spain," remarked +Drusus, "you had done that which should have given renown. +Consider, you had won the prætorship, the office of Pontifex +Maximus—" +</p> + +<p> +"<i>St</i>," interrupted the proconsul, "a list of titles is not a +pledge from Fortune that she will grant fame. Besides, I was +about to add—what folly it was for me to weep! Do I imagine +now, that Alexander was happy and contented in the midst of +his conquests? Rather, unless he were, indeed, of more than +mortal stuff, for every morsel of fame, he paid a talent of care +and anxiety. Rush not too quickly after fame; only with age +comes the strength to pay the price thereof." +</p> + +<p> +Drusus was half wondering at, half admiring, the unconscious +comparison the proconsul was drawing between himself and +Alexander. But Cæsar went on:— +</p> + +<p> +"But you, O Drusus, have not dealt honestly with me, in +that you have failed to tell that which lies nearest your heart, +and which you consider the pivot of all your present life." +</p> + +<p> +Drusus flushed. "Doubtless, your excellency will pardon a +young man for speaking with diffidence on a subject, to recollect +which is to cause pain." +</p> + +<p> +Cæsar put off the half-careless air of the good-natured wit, +which he had been affecting. +</p> + +<p> +"Quintus Livius Drusus," and as he spoke, his auditor +turned as if magnetized by his eye and voice, and hung on +every word, "be not ashamed to own to me, of all men, that +you claim a good woman's love, and for that love are ready to +make sacrifice." +</p> + +<p> +And as if to meet a flitting thought in the other's mind, Cæsar +continued:— +</p> + +<p> +"No, blush not before me, although the fashionable world of +Rome will have its stories. I care not enough for such gossip +to take pains to say it lies. But this would I have declared, +when at your age, and let all the world hear, that I, Caius +Cæsar, loved honourably, purely, and worthily; and for the sake +of that love would and did defy death itself." +</p> + +<p> +The proconsul's pale face flushed with something very akin +to passion; his bright eyes were more lustrous than ever. +</p> + +<p> +"I was eighteen years old when I married Cornelia, the +daughter of Cinna, the great leader of the 'Populares.' Sulla, +then dictator, ordered me to put her away. Cornelia had not +been the wife of my father's choice. He had wished to force +upon me Cossutia, an heiress, but with little save riches to +commend her. I gained neither riches, political influence, nor +family good-will by the marriage. Sulla was in the fulness of +his strength. I had seen nearly all my friends proscribed, +exiled, or murdered. Sulla bade me put away my wife, and +take such a one as he should appoint. He was graciously +pleased to spare my life, in order that I might become his tool. +Why did I refuse?" +</p> + +<p> +Cæsar was sitting upon the couch and speaking nervously, +in a manner that betokened great and unusual excitement. +</p> + +<p> +"I knew the dictator meant to favour me if I would only +humour him in this matter. A word from him and all ambition +of mine had probably been at an end, I take no praise to myself +for this. I refused him. I defied his threats. He seized +my property, deprived me of my priesthood,<a name="r125" href="#fn125">[125]</a> finally let loose his +pack of assassins upon me. I almost became their victim. But +my uncle, Aurelius Cotta, and some good friends of mine among +the Vestal Virgins pleaded my cause. I escaped. Sulla said +he was over-persuaded in sparing me; 'In me were many +Mariuses.' But did I regret the loss, the danger, the check for +the time being to my career? Quintus Drusus, I counted +them as of little importance, not to be weighed beside the pure +love that mastered me. And as the faithful husband of my +Cornelia I remained, until cruel death closed her dear eyes forever. +One can love once, and honourably, with his whole being, +but not truly and honourably love a second time, at least not in +a manner like unto the first. Therefore, my Quintus, blush +not to confess that which I know is yours,—a thing which too +many of us Romans do not know in these declining days,—something +that would almost convince me there were indeed +celestial gods, who care for us and guide our darkened +destinies. For when we reason of the gods, our reason tells +us they are not. But when pure passion possesses our hearts, +then we see tangible visions, then our dreams become no dreams +but realities; we mount up on wings, we fly, we soar to Olympus, +to Atlantis, to the Elysian fields; we no longer wish to +know, we feel; we no longer wish to prove, we see; and what +our reason bids us to reject, a surer monitor bids us to receive: +the dangers and perils of this life of shades upon the earth are +of no account, for we are transformed into immortals in whose +veins courses the divine ichor, and whose food is ambrosial. +Therefore while we love we do indeed dwell in the Islands of +the Blessed: and when the vision fades away, its sweet memory +remains to cheer us in our life below, and teach us that where +the cold intellect may not go, there is indeed some way, on +through the mists of the future, which leads we know not +whither; but which leads to things purer and fairer than those +which in our most ambitious moments we crave." +</p> + +<p> +The voice of the conqueror of Gaul and German sank with +a half tremor; his eye was moist, his lips continued moving +after his words had ceased to flow. Drusus felt himself +searched through and through by glance and speech. Was the +proconsul a diviner to find all that was deepest in his soul and +give it an utterance which Drusus had never expressed even to +himself? The young man was thrilled, fascinated. And +Cæsar, in quite another tone, recovered himself and spoke. +</p> + +<p> +"Wherefore, O Drusus! be ashamed to tell how the Lady +Cornelia loves you and you love her? What if the grim old +consul-elect, like the jealous elder in the comedy, will stand in +your way! <i>Phui!</i> What are the complaints, threats, and +prohibitions of such as he? At present, the wind blows from +his quarter, but it will not be ever so. Either Lentulus will +be in no place to hinder you before long, or we all shall be beyond +caring for his triumph or failure." +</p> + +<p> +"Your excellency bids me hope!" cried Drusus. +</p> + +<p> +"I bid you love," replied Cæsar, smiling. "I bid you go to +Baiæ, for there I have heard your dear lady waits her long-absent +Odysseus, and tell her that all will be well in time; for +Cæsar will make it so." +</p> + +<p> +"For Cæsar will make it so," repeated the young man, half-unconscious +that he was speaking aloud. +</p> + +<p> +"For Cæsar will make it so," reiterated the proconsul, as +though Zeus on Olympus were nodding his head in awful and +irrevocable promise. +</p> + +<p> +And the proconsul took both of his guest's hands in his +own, and said, with seriousness:— +</p> + +<p> +"Quintus Drusus, why did you abandon your bride to support +my cause?" +</p> + +<p> +"Because," replied the other, with perfect frankness, "I +should not be worthy to look Cornelia in the face, if I did not +sacrifice all to aid the one Roman who can save the state." +</p> + +<p> +"Young man," replied the proconsul, "many follow me for +selfish gain, many follow me to pay off a grudge, but few follow +me because they believe that because Cæsar is ambitious, +he is ambitious as a god should be ambitious—to bestow the +greatest benefits possible upon the men entrusted to his charge. +I know not what thread for me the Fates have spun; but this +I know, that Cæsar will never prove false to those who +trust him to bring righteousness to Rome, and peace to the +world." +</p> + + +<hr /> + +<p> +That night, as Drusus was retiring, Curio spoke to him:— +</p> + +<p> +And what manner of man do you think is the proconsul?" +</p> + +<p> +"I think," replied Drusus, "that I have discovered the one +man in the world whom I craved to find." +</p> + +<p> +"And who is that?" +</p> + +<p> +"The man with an ideal." +</p> + + + + +<h2 id="ch12">CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<h2>PRATINAS MEETS ILL-FORTUNE</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p> +Probably of the various personages mentioned in the +course of our story none was more thoroughly enjoying life +about this time than Agias. Drusus had left him in the city +when he started for Ravenna, with general instructions to +keep an eye on Lucius Ahenobarbus and Pratinas, and also to +gather all he could of the political drift among the lower +classes. Agias was free now. He let his hair grow long in +token of his newly gained liberty; paraded a many-folded +toga; and used part of the donatives which Drusus and Fabia +had lavished upon him, in buying one or two slave-boys of his +own, whom, so far from treating gently on account of his own +lately servile position, he cuffed and abused with grim satisfaction +at being able to do what had so often been done to him. +</p> + +<p> +Agias had been given lodgings by Drusus in a tenement +house, owned by the latter, in the Subura. +</p> + +<p> +The rooms were over a bakery, and at the sides were a doctor's +and surgeon's office and a barber's shop—a rendezvous +which gave the young Greek an admirable chance to pick up +the current gossip. Every street-pedler, every forum-idler, +had his political convictions and pet theories. The partisans +who arrogated to themselves the modest epithet of "The Company +of All Good Men," clamoured noisily that "Liberty and +Ancient Freedom" were in danger, if Cæsar set foot in Rome +save as an impeached traitor. And the Populares—the supporters +of the proconsul—raged equally fiercely against the +greed of the Senate party that wished to perpetuate itself forever +in office. Agias could only see that neither faction really +understood the causes for and against which they fought; and +observed in silence, trusting that his patron knew more of the +issues than he. +</p> + +<p> +But the newly manumitted freedman was thoroughly enjoying +himself. The windy speeches in the Senate, the crowded +and excited meetings in the Forum, the action and reaction of +the tides of popular prejudice and fancy, the eloquence of Antonius, +and the threatenings and ravings of Marcellus the consul—all +these were interesting but not disturbing. Agias +was catching glimpses of a little Olympus of his own—an +Olympus in which he was at once Zeus, Poseidon, and Apollo; +Sesostris—so he declared—the lame cup-bearer Hephæstus; +and in place of Hera, Athena, and Aphrodite, were the smiles +and laughter of Artemisia. Agias was head over ears in love +with this pretty little cage-bird shut up in Pratinas's gloomy +suite of rooms. Her "uncle" took her out now and then to +the theatre or to the circus; but she had had little enough +companionship save such as Sesostris could give; and to her, +Agias was a wonderful hero, the master of every art, the victor +over a hundred monsters. He had told her of his adventure +with Phaon—not calling names, lest disagreeable consequences +ensue—and Artemisia dreamed of him as the cleverest +creature on the earth, able to outwit Hermes in subtlety. +Agias had found out when Pratinas was likely to be away from +home—and that worthy Hellene, be it said, never declined an +invitation to dine with a friend—and Agias timed his visits +accordingly. He taught Artemisia to play the cithera and to +sing, and she made such rapid progress under his tutoring that +the unconscious Pratinas commended her efforts to acquire the +accomplishments he wished. And Agias was never so happy +as when those bright eyes were hanging on his lips or that +merry tongue was chattering a thousand pointless remarks or +jests. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, Agias found himself in a condition when he could well +ask to have no change. The possibility that Pratinas would +come home, and put an end to the romance once and for all, was +just great enough to give the affair the zest of a dangerous adventure. +Despite Sesostris's warnings that Artemisia might at +any time be sold away by her pseudo-uncle, Agias could not discover +that that danger was imminent enough to need frustration. +He was content to live himself and to let Artemisia live, basking +in the stolen sunshine of the hour, and to let the thought +of the approaching shadows fade out of his mind. +</p> + +<p> +Another person who saw the sunshine rather brighter than +before was Pisander. That excellent philosopher had received +his share of the gratitude Drusus had bestowed on his deliverers. +But he was still in the service of Valeria, for Drusus saw +that he had admirable opportunities for catching the stray bits +of political gossip that inevitably intermixed themselves with +the conversation of Valeria and her circle. Pisander had continued +to read Plato to his mistress, and to groan silently at +her frivolity; albeit, he did not groan so hopelessly as before, +because he had good money in his pouch and knew where to +procure more when he needed it. +</p> + +<p> +So Agias enjoyed himself. He was a youth; a Pagan youth; +and in his short life he had seen many a scene of wickedness +and shame. Yet there was nothing unholy in the affection +which he found was daily growing stronger and stronger for +Artemisia. She was a pure, innocent flower, that by the very +whiteness of her simple sweet presence drove away anything +that "defiled or made a lie." Agias did not worship her; she +was too winning; too cunning and pretty to attract the least +reverence; but in her company the young Greek was insensibly +raised pinnacles above the murky moral atmosphere in which +most men and youths of his station walked. +</p> + +<p> +It was all like an Idyl of Theocritus; with the tenement of +Pratinas for a shepherd's hut; and Sesostris for a black-backed +sheep to whom the herdsmen and the nymph of his love could +play on "oaten reed." At first, Agias had never dreamed of +telling a word of his affection to Artemisia. In truth, it was +very hard to tell, for she, with an absolute innocence, took all +his advances for far more than they were worth; told him that +next to her "uncle and dear Sesostris" he was quite the best +friend she had; that she loved him, and was glad to hear him +say that he loved her. +</p> + +<p> +All this was delightful in the ears of her admirer, but very +disconcerting. Agias thought of the hollow civilities of Valeria's +life, as he had seen it; of the outward decorum of language, of +the delicately veiled compliments, of the interchange of words +that summed up, in a few polished commonplaces, a whole network +of low intrigue and passion. Was this the same world! +Could Valeria and Artemisia both be women! The one—a +beauty, whose guilty heart was not ignorant of a single form +of fashionable sin; the other—as it were, a blossom, that was +pure sweetness, in whose opening petals the clear diamond +of the morning dew still remained! Agias did not compare +Artemisia with Cornelia; for Cornelia, in his eyes, was a goddess, +and in beauty and passions was above the hope or regard +of mortal men. +</p> + +<p> +But what was one to do in an emergency like the following? +Agias had been singing the "Love Song" from the "Cyclops," +and trying to throw into the lines all the depth of tender +affection which voice and look rendered possible. +</p> + + +<blockquote> +<p> +"One with eyes the fairest<br /> + Cometh from his dwelling,<br /> +Some one loves thee, rarest,<br /> + Bright beyond my telling.<br /> +In thy grace thou shinest<br /> +Like some nymph divinest,<br /> +In her caverns dewy;—<br /> +All delights pursue thee,<br /> +Soon pied flowers, sweet-breathing,<br /> +Shall thy head be wreathing."<a name="r126" href="#fn126">[126]</a> +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +And at the conclusion of the song Artemisia threw her arms +around Agias's neck and kissed him; and then with astounding +impartiality sprang into Sesostris's lap, and patted the old +Ethiop's black cheeks, and bestowed on him all manner of endearing +epithets. What was poor Agias to do in such a case? +He blankly concluded that it had proved easier to blast the +plot of Pratinas and Ahenobarbus, than to win the love—as +he meant "love"—of this provokingly affectionate girl. It +was growing late. Pratinas might at any time return. And +Agias constrained himself to depart. +</p> + +<p> +"By Zeus!" was the exclamation he addressed to himself +as he fought his way through the crowds toward his own +quarters; "where will this all end? How much longer are +you going to lie in the toils of that most innocent of Circes? +Will she never open her eyes? If I could only make her +cry, 'I hate you!' there would be some hope; for when one +hates, as I want her to, love is but a step away. Confound +that Sesostris! For me to have to sit there, and see that +baboon kissed and fondled!" +</p> + +<p> +And so reflecting, he reached his rooms. One of the luckless +slave-boys who now addressed him as "Dominus," was +waiting to tell him that a very gaunt, strange-looking man, +with an enormous beard, had called to see him while he was +out, and would return—so the visitor said—in the evening, +for his business was important. "Pisander," remarked Agias; +and he stayed in that evening to meet the philosopher, although +he had arranged to share a dinner with one or two other freedmen, +who were his friends. +</p> + +<p> +The man of learning appeared at a very late hour. In fact, +the water-clock showed that it wanted little of midnight before +he came. His explanation was that Valeria had called him +in to read verses to a company of friends who were supping +with her, and he could not get away sooner. Besides, +the dark streets were full of bandits, and he had therefore +taken a circuitous route to avoid attack. Agias had to let +him ramble through all the details, although he knew very +well that Pisander would never have taken so much trouble +to come if he had not had information of the first importance +to impart. +</p> + +<p> +"And now, my dear Pisander," ventured the young Greek, +at length, "I will ask Dromo to set something to drink before +us; and I hope you will tell me why you have come." +</p> + +<p> +Pisander glanced timidly over his shoulder, pulled at his +beard with suppressed excitement, then bent down, and in a +very low voice burst out:— +</p> + +<p> +"Pratinas and"—he hesitated—"Valeria!" +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Ai"</i> cried Agias, "I have suspected it for a very long +time. You are sure the fox has snapped up his goose?" +</p> + +<p> +"By Hercules, very sure! They are planning to go to +Egypt. Pratinas has just had a wonderful stroke of luck. +He received six hundred thousand sesterces<a name="r127" href="#fn127">[127]</a> with which to +corrupt a jury for some poor wretch who expected to enlist +Pratinas's cunning to get him out of the toils of the law. +Pratinas calmly put the money in his strong-box, and let the +unhappy wight be cast. He is not at all poor—he has +amassed a large fortune while he has been in Rome. Shade +of Plato! how this knave has prospered! And now he is +arranging with Valeria to strip poor Calatinus of nearly all +his valuables, before they fly the country." +</p> + +<p> +"Ah, luckless Calatinus!" laughed Agias. "That will be +the end of his marrying the handsomest woman in Rome. +And so this is what you came here to tell me? It really was +a good secret to keep." +</p> + +<p> +"<i>St!</i>" interrupted Pisander, "Pratinas has something else +to attend to. Calatinus will get consolation for losing his +dear spouse. I suppose Pratinas wishes to indemnify him, +but he himself will make a good bit at the same time." +</p> + +<p> +In a twinkling a thought had flashed through Agias's mind, +that made a cold sweat break out all over him, and a hot surge +of blood mount to his head. +</p> + +<p> +"Man, man!" he cried, grasping Pisander's wrists with all +his strength, "speak! Don't look at me this way! Don't +say that you mean Artemisia?" +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Ai!</i> You know the girl, then?" said the other, with the +most excruciating inquisitiveness. +</p> + +<p> +"Know her?" raged Agias, "I love the sunbeam on which +her eyes rest. Speak! Tell me all, everything, all about it I +Quick! I must know!" +</p> + +<p> +Pisander drew himself together, and with a deliberation +that was nearly maddening to his auditor, began:— +</p> + +<p> +"Well, you see, I had occasion this morning to be in Calatinus's +library. Yes, I remember, I was just putting the new +copy of Theognis back into the cupboard, when I noticed +that the Mimnermus was not neatly rolled, and so I happened +to stay in the room, and—" +</p> + +<p> +"By Zeus, speak faster and to the point!" cried Agias. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, there wasn't very much to it all! Why, how excited +you are! Pratinas came into the atrium, and Calatinus was +already there. I heard the latter say, 'So I am to give you +forty thousand sesterces for the little girl you had with you +at the circus yesterday?' And Pratinas replied, 'Yes, if she +pleases you. I told you her name was Artemisia, and that +I always taught her to believe that she was my niece.'" +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Hei! Hei!</i>" groaned Agias, rushing up and down the +room, half frantic. "Don't tell any more, I've heard enough! +Fool, fool I have been, to sit in the sunshine, and never think +of preparing to carry out my promise to Sesostris. No, you +must tell me—you must tell me if you have learned any +more. Did Calatinus fix on any time at which he was to take +possession of the poor girl?" +</p> + +<p> +"No," replied the still amazed Pisander. "I did not hear +the whole conversation. There was something about 'a very +few days,' and then Pratinas began to condole with Calatinus +over being beaten for the tribunate after having spent so much +money for the canvass. But why are you so stirred up? As +Plato very admirably observes in his 'Philebus'—" +</p> + +<p> +"The Furies seize upon your 'Philebus'!" thundered Agias. +"Keep quiet, if you've nothing good to tell! Oh, Agias, Agias! +where are your wits, where is your cunning? What in the +world can I do?" +</p> + +<p> +And so he poured out his distress and anger. But, after all, +there was nothing to be done that night. Pisander, who at +last began to realize the dilemma of his friend, ventured on a +sort of sympathy which was worse than no sympathy at all, +for philosophical platitudes are ever the worst of consolations. +Agias invited the good man to spend the night with him, and +not risk a second time the robbers of the streets. The young +Greek himself finally went to bed, with no definite purpose in +his mind except to rescue Artemisia, at any and every hazard, +from falling into the clutches of Calatinus, who was perhaps +the one man in the world Agias detested the most heartily. +</p> + + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p> +Early in the morning Agias was awake. He had slept very +little. The face of Artemisia was ever before him, and he +saw it bathed in tears, and clouded with anguish and terror. +But, early as he arose, it was none too early. Dromo, one of +his slaves, came to announce to his dread lord that an aged +Ethiop was waiting to see him, and Agias did not need to be +told that this was Sesostris. +</p> + +<p> +That faithful servant of an unworthy master was indeed in +a pitiable condition. His ordinarily neat and clean dress was +crumpled and disarranged, as though he had not changed it +during the night, but had rather been tossing and wakeful. +His eyes were swollen, and tears were trickling down his +cheeks. His voice had sunk to a husky choking, and when he +stood before Agias he was unable to get out a word, but, after +a few vain attempts which ended in prolonged sniffles, thrust +into his young friend's hand a tablet. +</p> + +<p> +It was in Greek, in the childish, awkward hand of Artemisia, +and ran as follows:— +</p> + +<p> +"Artemisia to her dear, dear Agias. I never wrote a letter +before, and you must excuse the blunders in this. I don't +know how to begin to tell you the dreadful thing that may +happen to me. I will try and stop crying, and write it out +just as it all happened. The day before yesterday Pratinas +took me to the circus, where I enjoyed the racing very much. +While we were sitting there, a very fine gentleman—at least +he had purple stripes on his tunic and ever so many rings—came +and sat down beside us. Pratinas told me that this gentleman +was Lucius Calatinus, who was a great lord, but a friend +of his. I tried to say something polite to Calatinus, but I +didn't like him. He seemed coarse, and looked as though +he might be cruel at times. He talked to me something the +way you have talked—said I was pretty and my voice sounded +very sweet. But I didn't enjoy these things from him, I can +hardly tell why—though I'm delighted to hear you say them. +Well, after quite a while he went away, and I didn't think +anything more about him for a time, and yesterday you know +how happy I was when you visited me. Only a little while +after you left, Pratinas came back. I could see that he had +something on his mind, although he said nothing. He seemed +uneasy, and kept casting sidelong glances at me, which made +me feel uncomfortable. I went up to him, and put my arms +around his neck. 'Dear uncle,' I said, 'what is troubling +you to-night?' 'Nothing,' he answered, and he half tried to +take my arms away. Then he said, 'I was thinking how soon +I was to go back to Alexandria.' 'To Alexandria!' I cried, +and I was just going to clap my hands when I thought that, +although Alexandria was a far nicer place than Rome, you +could not go with us, and so I felt very sorry. Then Pratinas +spoke again in a hard, cold voice he has never used to me +before. 'Artemisia, I must tell you now the truth about yourself. +I have let you call me uncle, and have tried to be kind +to you. But you cannot come back to Alexandria with me. +The day after to-morrow Calatinus, the gentleman you met at +the circus yesterday, will come and take you away. He is a +very rich man, and if you please him will give you everything +you desire.' I couldn't understand at all what he meant, and +cried out, 'But, uncle, I don't like Calatinus, and you—you +don't really mean to leave me behind?' 'You little donkey,' +said Pratinas, laughing, oh! so heartlessly, 'I'm not your +uncle. You've been my slave, and I've sold you to Calatinus; +so don't quarrel with him, but learn to like him quickly.' I +don't remember what he said or I said next. I was so frightened +and grieved that I don't know what I did. I know Pratinas +finally whipped me, something he never did before. I +went to bed feeling so sore, that I could not get really to sleep, +but dreadful visions of Calatinus kept frightening me. I don't +know which grieves me most, to know I am a slave, to know +that Pratinas is not my uncle and does not love me, or to be +about to be sold to Calatinus. Dear Sesostris has done all he +can to console me, but that's very little; and so, very early this +morning, I've written to you, Agias, just as soon as Pratinas +left the house, for I am sure that you, who are so clever and +wise, can see some way to get me out of my dreadful trouble." +</p> + +<p> +It would be hardly necessary to say that, after reading this +appeal, Agias hurried away to do all that lay in his power to +console Artemisia, and deliver her from her danger. When +he reached Pratinas's tenement, Artemisia ran to meet him, +and kissed him again and again, and cuddled down in his +strong, young arms, quite content to believe that she had +found a protector on whom she could cast all her burdens. +And Agias? He laughed and bade her wipe away her tears, +and swore a great oath that, so long as he breathed, Calatinus +should not lay a finger upon her. +</p> + +<p> +Artemisia had practically told all her story in her letter. It +was clear that Calatinus had caught sight of her several times,—though +she had remained in blissful ignorance,—and Pratinas +had deliberately planned to waylay him as a customer +who would pay a good price for the girl, whom it would be +manifestly inconvenient for him to take with Valeria on his +premeditated flight to Egypt. But this enlightenment did not +make Agias's task any the easier. He knew perfectly well that +he could never raise a tithe of the forty thousand sesterces that +Pratinas was to receive from Calatinus, and so redeem Artemisia. +He had no right to expect the gift of such a sum from +Drusus. If Pratinas really owned the poor girl as a slave, he +could do anything he listed with her, and no law could be invoked +to say him nay. There was only one recourse left to +Agias, and that was fairly desperate—to carry off Artemisia +and keep her in hiding until Pratinas should give up the quest +and depart for Egypt. That there was peril in such a step he +was well aware. Not merely could Artemisia, if recaptured, +receive any form whatsoever of brutal punishment, but he, as +the abettor of her flight, would be liable to a heavy penalty. +Slave property was necessarily very precarious property, and +to aid a slave to escape was an extremely heinous crime. "So +many slaves, so many enemies," ran the harsh maxim; and it +was almost treason to society for a freedman to aid a servant +to run away. +</p> + +<p> +But Agias had no time to count the cost, no time to evolve +a plan of escape that admitted no form of disaster. Artemisia +besought him not to leave her for a moment, and accordingly +he remained by her, laughing, poking fun, and making reckless +gibes at her fears. Sesostris went about his simple household +duties with a long face, and now and then a tear trickled down +his cheek. Whatever came of the matter, Artemisia would +have to be separated from him. He might never see her +again, and the old Ethiopian loved her more than he did life +itself. +</p> + +<p> +"You will not wrong the girl when she is with you?" he +whispered dolefully to Agias. +</p> + +<p> +"I swear by Zeus she shall be treated as if she were my +own dear sister," was his reply. +</p> + +<p> +"It is well. I can trust you; but <i>mu! mu!</i> it is hard, it is +hard! I love her like my own eyes! Isis preserve her dear +life!" +</p> + +<p> +And so at last Artemisia, having cried out all her first burst +of grief, was beginning to smile once more. +</p> + +<p> +"And now, oh! makaira,"<a name="r128" href="#fn128">[128]</a> said Agias, "I must go away for +just a little while. I have ever so many things to attend to; +and you must be a good, brave girl, and wait until I come back." +</p> + +<p> +"<i>St!"</i> broke in Sesostris, "there's a step on the stairs. +Pratinas is coming!" +</p> + +<p> +"Hide me!" cried Agias, as the approaching feet grew +nearer. There was no time to take refuge in one of the farther +rooms. +</p> + +<p> +"Here;" and Sesostris threw open the same iron clamped +chest in which some time ago we saw Pratinas inspecting his +treasure. "The money was taken out yesterday." +</p> + +<p> +Agias bounded into the box, and Sesostris pushed down the +cover. The luckless occupant had only a chance to push out a +corner of his tunic through the slit to admit a little air, when +Pratinas entered the room. Agias longed to spring forth and +throttle him, but such an act would have been folly. +</p> + +<p> +The young Greek's prison was sufficiently cramped and +stuffy; but for a moment Agias tried to persuade himself that +he had only to wait with patience until Pratinas should be gone, +and no one would be the worse. An exclamation from the +room without dispelled this comforting illusion. +</p> + +<p> +"By Zeus!" cried Pratinas, "what is this? Whence came +this new toga?" +</p> + +<p> +Agias writhed in his confinement. In the plentitude of the +glory of his newly acquired freedom, he had come abroad in an +elegant new toga; but he had laid it on a chair when he entered +the room. +</p> + +<p> +There was an awkward pause outside; then Pratinas burst +out, "You worthless Ethiopian, you, where did this toga come +from? It hasn't wings or feet! How came it here? Who's +been here? Speak, speak, you fool, or I will teach you a +lesson!" +</p> + +<p> +Agias gathered himself for a spring; for he expected to +hear Sesostris whimper out a confession, and see Pratinas's +wickedly handsome face peering into the chest. "He shan't +cut my throat without a struggle!" was his vow. +</p> + +<p> +But, to his surprise, Sesostris answered with a tone of unlooked-for +firmness, "Master, I cannot tell you where the toga +came from." +</p> + +<p> +The tone of Pratinas, in reply, indicated his passion. "Sheep! +Dog! Have I had you all these years that you should need a +thrashing for impertinence! What rascal has been here to ogle +at this wretched girl?" He might have thundered his commands +to Artemisia, who was sobbing in evident distress; but +his anger was concentrated on Sesostris. "Will you not speak?" +</p> + +<p> +"Master," came the same firm reply, "I will not tell you, +though you take my life for refusing." +</p> + +<p> +What followed was, as Agias heard it, a volley of curses, +blows, groans, and scuffling; then a heavy fall; an extremely +fierce execration from Pratinas, and a loud shrill scream from +Artemisia, "O Sesostris; dear Sesostris! He doesn't speak! +He doesn't move! You've killed him!" +</p> + +<p> +"And I will kill you too if you won't tell the truth!" thundered +Pratinas, in an ungovernable passion. Agias heard a +blow as of a clinched fist, and a low moan. It was enough. +One spring, and the ponderous cover flew back. The toga, the +innocent cause of the catastrophe, lay on the chair close at +hand. Agias grasped the whole picture in a twinkling: +Sesostris lying beside a heavy wooden bench, with blood +flowing from a great wound in his head which had struck +in falling on a sharp corner; Artemisia crying in unspeakable +dread on a divan; Pratinas, his face black as night, with +uplifted hand prepared to strike a second time. Agias saw; +and while he saw acted. Down over Pratinas's head dashed the +broad linen folds of the toga, and two muscular arms drew it +tight around the neck. Then began the struggle. Pratinas +was of powerful physique, and resisted like a madman. The +carpet was torn to shreds, the chairs shivered. But Agias, too, +battled for grim life. He kept the hood over his opponent's +eyes and never gave Pratinas a glimpse of the identity of his +assailant. And at last a life of debauches and late dinners and +unhealthy excitement began to tell against even so powerful a +constitution as that of Pratinas. Tighter and tighter grew the +pressure around his neck. And now Artemisia sprang up, and +flew like a tiny tigress to her lover's assistance, and caught at +her tormentor's hands, tearing them with her white little teeth, +and pulling the enveloping mantle closer and closer. The contest +could only have one end. Ere long, Pratinas was lying on +the floor, bound hand and foot with strings of torn clothing, +and his head still muffled in the toga. Agias, victorious, but +with not a whole rag on his back, rose from his contest. +</p> + +<p> +"Sesostris! help him!" cried Artemisia, trying in vain to get +some response from the motionless form by the bench. Agias +looked at the Ethiop. The hard wood had struck the top of +his skull, and death must have been instantaneous. +</p> + +<p> +"He does not feel any pain," explained the young Greek, +who realized that this was no moment to indulge in emotions +of any sort. "Now, Artemisia, you must hurry and put on a +clean dress yourself; and give me at least a new tunic, for I +cannot show this on the streets. Put into a basket all the +bread you have, and some oil, and some olives, and some slices +of salt fish." +</p> + +<p> +Artemisia disappeared in the next room. Agias returned +to his prisoner. Pratinas was coughing and twisting, and +trying to ejaculate oaths. +</p> + +<p> +"My good sir," said Agias, "I am not a bloodthirsty man, +otherwise I would cut your throat, and so let you forget a +predicament which doubtless embarrasses you not a little. +But, since that is not to be, do not blame me if I arrange so +that it will be unlikely that two such cold friends as you and +myself will ever meet again. First of all, that purse which is +at your side, and which, by its weight, shows that it contains +a fair night's winnings, must go with me to speed me on my +way. I have never stolen very much before. But I believe +you, sir, are an Epicurean, who teach that pleasure is the +highest good, and that all things are the result of chance. +Now," and here he detached the purse, and counted over a +very considerable sum, "you will observe that Fortune has +thrown this money in my way, and it is my pleasure to take +it. Therefore I am fulfilling the highest good. And you, as +a philosopher, should be quite reconciled." +</p> + +<p> +Artemisia came back into the room, having completed the +few simple preparations. +</p> + +<p> +"Now, my excellent sir," continued Agias, suiting his +actions to his words, "I will stand you on your feet—so. I +will push you, still bound, into this closet—so. I will pile +furniture against the door, so that, when you have worked +clear of your bonds, as I imagine you will in a few hours, +even then you will not get out too quickly. And now, as +your dear Roman friends say, <i>Vale!</i> We are off!" +</p> + +<p> +Artemisia flung herself on the form of Sesostris, and covered +the black, ugly face with kisses. +</p> + +<p> +"He's growing cold," she lamented. "What is the matter? +I can't leave him this way!" +</p> + +<p> +But Agias did not dare to admit the least delaying. +</p> + +<p> +"Dear Artemisia," he said, "we can't do anything for +Sesostris. I will explain to you by and by about him. He +is not feeling cold now at all. You must come at once with +me. I will take you where Pratinas will never touch you." +</p> + + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p> +If Agias had been a trifle more reckless he would have cut +short Pratinas's thread of life then and there, and greatly +diminished the chance of unpleasant consequences. But he +had not sunk so low as that. Besides, he had already worked +out in his versatile head a plan that seemed practicable, albeit +utterly audacious. Cornelia was at Baiæ. Cornelia owed him +a great debt of gratitude for saving Drusus. Cornelia might +harbour Artemisia as a new maid, if he could contrive to get +his charge over the hundred long miles that lay between +Rome and Baiæ. +</p> + +<p> +In the street he made Artemisia draw her mantle over her +pretty face, and pressed through the crowds as fast as he +could drag her onward. Quickly as he might he left the +noisy Subura behind, and led on toward the Palatine. At +length he turned in toward a large house, and by a narrow +alley reached a garden gate, and gained admission to the rear. +By his confident movements he showed himself familiar with +the spot. The dwelling, as a matter of fact, was that of +Calatinus. +</p> + +<p> +As Agias pushed open the gate, and led Artemisia into a +little garden enclosed with a high stone wall, he surprised +a dapper-appearing young slave-lad of about his age, who +was lying idly on the tiny grass plot, and indulging in a +solitary game of backgammon.<a name="r129" href="#fn129">[129]</a> +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Hem!</i> Iasus," was Agias's salutation, "can you do an old +friend a favour?" +</p> + +<p> +Iasus sprang to his feet, with eyes, nose, and mouth wide +open. He turned red, turned white, turned red once more. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Phy!</i>" cried the other; "you aren't so silly as to take +me for a shade from Hades? I've as much strength and +muscle as you." +</p> + +<p> +"Agias!" blurted out Iasus, "are you alive? Really alive? +They didn't beat you to death! I am so glad! You know—" +</p> + +<p> +"<i>St!</i>" interrupted Agias. "You did, indeed, serve me an +awkward trick some time since; but who can blame you for +wanting to save your own skin. Pisander and Arsinoë and +Semiramis have kept the secret that I'm alive very well, for +in some ways it shouldn't come to Valeria's ears. My story +later. Where's her most noble ladyship?" +</p> + +<p> +"The domina," replied Iasus, with a sniff, "has just gone +out on a visit to a friend who has a country-house near +Fidenæ, up the Tiber." +</p> + +<p> +"Praise the gods! Far enough to be abroad for the day, +and perhaps over night! This suits my purpose wonderfully. +Is Pisander at home, and Arsinoë?" +</p> + +<p> +"I will fetch them," replied Iasus; and in a minute the +philosopher and the waiting-maid were in the garden. +</p> + +<p> +A very few words explained to these two sympathetic souls +the whole situation. +</p> + +<p> +Artemisia shrank back at sight of Pisander. +</p> + +<p> +"I am afraid of that man. He wears a great beard like +Pratinas, and I don't love Pratinas any longer." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, don't say that, my little swallow," said the worthy +man of books, looking very sheepish. "I should be sorry to +think that your bright eyes were vexed to see me." +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Phui!</i> Pisander," laughed Arsinoë, "what have Zeno and +Diogenes to do with 'bright eyes'?" +</p> + +<p> +But for once Pisander's heart was wiser than his head, and +he only tossed Artemisia an enormous Persian peach, at which, +when she sampled the gift, she made peace at once, and forever +after held Pisander in her toils as a devoted servant. +</p> + +<p> +But Agias was soon gone; and Artemisia spent the rest of +the morning and the whole of the afternoon in that very satisfactory +Elysium of Syrian pears and honey-apples which Semiramis +and Arsinoë supplied in full measure, with Pisander to +sit by, and stare, boylike, at her clear, fair profile, and cast +jealous glances at Iasus when that young man ventured to +utilize his opportunity for a like advantage. Many of the servants +had gone with Valeria, and the others readily agreed to +preserve secrecy in a matter in which their former fellow-slave +and favourite had so much at stake. So the day passed, and no +one came to disturb her; and just as the shadows were falling +Agias knocked at the garden gate. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>St!</i>" were his words, "I have hired a gig which will carry +us both. Pratinas is loose and has been raising heaven and +earth to get at us. There is a crier going the rounds of the +Forum offering a thousand sesterces for the return of Artemisia. +Pratinas has gone before the <i>triumviri capitales</i><a name="r130" href="#fn130">[130]</a> and +obtained from them an order on the <i>apparitores</i><a name="r131" href="#fn131">[131]</a> to track +down the runaway and her abettor." +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Eho!</i>" cried Pisander, "then you'd better leave your +treasure here awhile, for us to take care of." +</p> + +<p> +"Not at all," replied Agias; "I could have taken her out of +the city at once, but in the daytime we should have been certainly +noticed and subsequently tracked. No one will imagine +Artemisia is here—at least for a while. But this is a +large familia; all may be my friends, but all may not have +prudent tongues in their heads. The reward is large, and +perhaps some will be tempted;" he glanced at Iasus, who, +to do him justice, had never thought of a second deed of +baseness. "I cannot risk that. No, Artemisia goes out of +the city to-night, and she must get ready without the least +delay." +</p> + +<p> +Artemisia, who was charmed with her present surroundings +and adulation, demurred at leaving her entertainers; but Agias +was imperative, and the others realized well enough that there +was not much time to be lost. Agias, however, waited until it +had become tolerably dark before starting. Meantime, he proceeded +to make certain changes of his own and Artemisia's +costume that indicated the rather serious character of the risk +he was preparing to run. For himself he put on a very full +and flowing crimson evening dress, as if he were proceeding +to a dinner-party; he piled a dozen odd rings upon his fingers, +and laughingly asked Semiramis to arrange his hair for him in +the most fashionable style, and anoint it heavily with Valeria's +most pungent perfumes. At the same time, Arsinoë was quite +transforming Artemisia. Valeria's cosmetic vials were for +once put into play for a purpose, and when Artemisia reappeared +from the dressing-room after her treatment, Agias +saw before him no longer a fair-skinned little Greek, but a +small, slender, but certainly very handsome Egyptian serving-lad, +with bronzed skin, conspicuous carmine lips, and features +that Arsinoë's paint and pencils had coarsened and exaggerated. +Fortunately, the classic costume both for men and +women was so essentially alike, that Artemisia did not have +to undergo that mortification from a change of clothes which +might have befallen one at the present day in a like predicament. +Her not very long black hair was loose, and shaken +over her shoulders. Agias had brought for her a short, variegated +<i>lacerna</i><a name="r132" href="#fn132">[132]</a> which answered well enough as the habit of a +boy-valet who was on good terms with his master. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Eho!</i>" cried Agias, when he had witnessed the transformation, +"we must hasten or Valeria will be anxious to +keep you as her serving-boy! Ah, I forgot she is going with +her dear Pratinas to Egypt. Now, Arsinoë, and you, Semiramis, +I shall not forget the good turn you have done me; don't +let Valeria miss her unguents and ask questions that might +prove disagreeable. Farewell, Iasus and Pisander; we shall +soon meet again, the gods willing." +</p> + +<p> +The friends took leave of Artemisia; the slave-women +kissed her; Pisander, presuming on his age, kissed her, albeit +very sheepishly, as though he feared the ghosts of all the +Stoics would see him. Iasus cast an angry jealous glance at +the philosopher; he contented himself with a mere shake of +the hand. +</p> + +<p> +Agias swung Artemisia into the gig and touched the lash to +the swift mules. +</p> + +<p> +"Good-by, dear friends!" she cried, her merry Greek smile +shining out through her bronze disguise. +</p> + +<p> +The gig rolled down the street, Agias glancing to right and +left to see that no inquisitive eye followed them. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! Agias," cried the girl, "am I at last going away with +you? Going away all alone, with only you to take care of me? +I feel—I feel queerly!" +</p> + +<p> +Agias only touched the mules again, and laughed and +squeezed Artemisia's hand, then more gravely said:— +</p> + +<p> +"Now, makaira, you must do everything as I say, or we +shall never get away from Pratinas. Remember, if I tell you +to do anything you must do it instantly; and, above everything +else, no matter what happens, speak not a word; don't +scream or cry or utter a sound. If anybody questions us I +shall say that I am a gentleman driving out to the suburbs to +enjoy a late party at a friend's villa, and you are my valet, +who is a mute, whom it is useless to question because he cannot +answer. Do you understand?" +</p> + +<p> +Artemisia nodded her little head, and bit her pretty lips +very hard to keep from speaking. The fear of Pratinas made +her all obedience. +</p> + +<p> +It was after sundown, and driving was permitted in the +city, though nearly all the teams that blocked Agias's way, +as he drove down the crowded streets to turn on to the Via +Appia, were heavy wagons loaded with timber and builders' +stone. +</p> + +<p> +So far, all was safe enough; but Agias knew perfectly well +that Pratinas was an awkward man to have for an enemy. +The critical moment, however, was close at hand, and Agias +called up all his wits to meet it. Under the damp arch of the +ancient Porta Capena were pacing several men, whose lanterns +and clinking sword-scabbards proclaimed them to be members +of the city constabulary. There was no possibility of evading +their scrutiny. No doubt any other gate was equally well +watched. Agias drove straight ahead, as though he had seen +nothing. +</p> + +<p> +"Hold!" and one of the constables was at the heads of the +mules, and another was waving a lantern up into the face of +the occupants of the gig. +</p> + +<p> +"Rascals," roared Agias, menacing with his whip, "are +you highwaymen grown so impudent!" +</p> + +<p> +"We have an order from the triumviri," began one officer. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Eho!</i>" replied Agias, settling back, as though relieved not +to have to fight for his purse, "I can't see what for; I owe +nothing. I have no suit pending." +</p> + +<p> +"We are to search all carriages and pedestrians," recommenced +the constable, "to find if we may a certain Artemisia, +a runaway slave-girl of the most noble Greek gentleman, +Pratinas." +</p> + +<p> +"My good sirs," interrupted Agias, "I am already like to be +very late at my dear friend Cimber's dinner party"—he mentioned +the name of the owner of a very large villa not far +down the road; "I have with me only Midas, my mute valet. +If you detain me any longer I shall complain—" +</p> + +<p> +And here a denarius slipped into the hands of the officer +with the lantern. +</p> + +<p> +"I think it's all right, Macer," was his report to his comrade. +The latter left the heads of the mules. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Mehercle!</i> how handsome some of those Egyptians grow!" +commented the first constable. +</p> + +<p> +But the rest of his remarks were lost on Agias. He was +whizzing down the "Queen of Roads," with a good team before +him, Artemisia at his side, and a happy consciousness that two +excellent officials had missed a chance to earn one thousand +sesterces. +</p> + +<p> +Hardly were they beyond earshot, when Artemisia burst out +into an uncontrollable fit of giggling, which lasted a long time, +only to be renewed and renewed, as often as a desperate effort +seemed to have suppressed it. Then she drew the robes of the +carriage round her, laid her head on Agias's shoulder, and with +a confidence in her protector that would have inspired him to +go through fire and water for her sake, shook out her dark locks +and fell fast asleep, despite the fact that the mules were running +their fastest. Agias grasped the reins with one hand, and +with the other pressed tight the sleeping girl. He would not +have exchanged his present position for all the wealth of +Sardanapalus. +</p> + + +<hr /> + +<p> +Five days later Agias was back in Rome. He had succeeded +in reaching Baiæ, and introducing Artemisia into the familia +of the villa of the Lentuli, as a new waiting-maid from Rome +sent by Claudia to her daughter. For the present at least there +was practically no chance of Pratinas recovering his lost property. +And indeed, when Agias reached Rome once more, all +fears in that direction were completely set at rest. The fashionable +circle in which Claudia and Herennia were enmeshed +was in a flutter and a chatter over no ordinary scandal. +Valeria, wife of Calatinus, and Pratinas, the "charming" +Epicurean philosopher, had both fled Rome two days before, +and rumour had it that they had embarked together at Ostia on +a ship leaving direct for Egypt. Of course Calatinus was +receiving all the sympathy, and was a much abused man; and +so the tongues ran on. +</p> + +<p> +To Agias this great event brought a considerable gain in +peace of mind, and some little loss. Valeria had taken with +her her two maids, Agias's good friends, and also Iasus. +Pisander ignominiously had been left behind. Calatinus had +no use for the man of learning, and Agias was fain to take him +before Drusus, who had returned from Ravenna, and induce +his patron to give Pisander sufficient capital to start afresh a +public school of philosophy, although the chances of acquiring +opulence in that profession were sufficiently meagre. +</p> + + + + + +<h2 id="ch13">CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<h2>WHAT BEFELL AT BAIÆ</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p> +Cornelia was at Baiæ, the famous watering-place, upon +the classic Neapolitan bay,—which was the Brighton or Newport +of the Roman. Here was the haunt of the sybarites, +whose gay barks skimmed the shallow waters of the Lucrine +lake; and not far off slumbered in its volcanic hollow that +other lake, Avernus, renowned in legend and poetry, through +whose caverns, fable had it, lay the entrance to the world of +the dead. The whole country about was one city of stately +villas, of cool groves, of bright gardens; a huge pleasure +world, where freedom too often became license; where the +dregs of the nectar cup too often meant physical ruin and +moral death. +</p> + +<p> +Cornelia had lost all desire to die now. She no longer +thought of suicide. Lentulus's freedmen held her in close +surveillance, but she was very happy. Drusus lived, was +safe, would do great things, would win a name and a fame +in the world of politics and arms. For herself she had but +one ambition—to hear men say, "This woman is the wife +of the great Quintus Drusus." That would have been Elysium +indeed. Cornelia, in fact, was building around her a world of +sweet fantasy, that grew so real, so tangible, that the stern +realities of life, realities that had hitherto worn out her very +soul, became less galling. The reaction following the collapse +of the plot against Drusus had thrown her into an +unnatural cheerfulness. For the time the one thought when +she arose in the morning, the one thought when she fell asleep +at night, was, "One day," or "One night more is gone, of the +time that severs me from Quintus." It was a strained, an +unhealthy cheerfulness; but while it lasted it made all the +world fair for Cornelia. Indeed, she had no right—from one +way of thinking—not to enjoy herself, unless it be that she +had no congenial companions. The villa of the Lentuli was +one of the newest and finest at Baiæ. It rested on a sort +of breakwater built out into the sea, so that the waves actually +beat against the embankment at the foot of Cornelia's +chamber. The building rose in several stories, each smaller +than the one below it, an ornamental cupola highest of all. +On the successive terraces were formally plotted, but luxuriant, +gardens. Cornelia, from her room in the second story, +could command a broad vista of the bay. Puteoli was only +two miles distant. Vesuvius was ten times as far; but the +eye swept clear down the verdant coast toward Surrentum +to the southward. At her feet was the sea,—the Italian, +Neapolitan sea,—dancing, sparkling, dimpling from the first +flush of morning to the last glint of the fading western +clouds at eve. The azure above glowed with living brightness, +and by night the stars and planets burned and twinkled +down from a crystalline void, through which the unfettered +soul might soar and soar, swimming onward through the +sweet darkness of the infinite. +</p> + +<p> +And there were pleasures enough for Cornelia if she would +join therein. Lentulus had ordered his freedmen not to deny +her amusements; anything, in fact, that would divert her +from her morbid infatuation for Drusus. The consul-designate +had indeed reached the conclusion that his niece was +suffering some serious mental derangement, or she would not +thus continue to pursue a profitless passion, obviously impossible +of fulfilment. So Cornelia had every chance to make +herself a centre to those gay pleasure-seekers who were still +at Baiæ; for the summer season was a little past, and all +but confirmed or fashionable invalids and professional vacationers +were drifting back to Rome. For a time all went +merrily enough. Just sufficient of the Lucius Ahenobarbus +affair had come to the Baiæans to make Cornelia the object +of a great amount of curiosity. When she invited a select +number of the pleasure-seekers to her dinner parties, she +had the adulation and plaudits of every guest, and plenty of +return favours. Lucius Ahenobarbus soon had a score of hot +rivals; and Cornelia's pretty face was chipped on more than +one admirer's seal ring. But presently it began to be said +that the niece of the consul-designate was an extremely stoical +and peculiar woman; she did not enjoy freedom which the +very air of Baiæ seemed to render inevitable. She never +lacked wit and vivacity, but there was around her an air of +restraint and cold modesty that was admirable in every way—only +it would never do in Baiæ. And so Cornelia, without +ceasing to be admired, became less courted; and presently, +quite tiring of the butterfly life, was thrown back more and +more on herself and on her books. This did not disturb her. +A levee or a banquet had never given her perfect pleasure; +and it was no delight to know that half the women of Baiæ +hated her with a perfect jealousy. Cornelia read and studied, +now Greek, now Latin; and sometimes caught herself half +wishing to be a man and able to expound a cosmogony, or to +decide the fate of empires by words flung down from the +rostrum. Then finally Agias came bringing Artemisia, who, +as has been related, was introduced—by means of some little +contriving—into the familia as a new serving-maid. Such +Artemisia was in name; but Cornelia, whose gratitude to +Agias had known no bounds, took the little thing into her +heart, and determined to devote herself to instructing an innocence +that must not continue too long, despite its charming +naiveté. +</p> + +<p> +Thus the days had passed for Cornelia. But only a +little while after Agias left for Rome,—with a very large +packet of letters for Drusus,—the pleasant, self-created world +of fantasy, that had given Cornelia some portion of happiness, +vanished. Like a clap of thunder from a cloudless sky +Lucius Ahenobarbus suddenly arrived in Baiæ. He was tired +of Rome, which was still very hot and uncomfortable. He +loathed politics, they were stupid. He had lost a boon companion +when Publius Gabinius was driven into outlawry. +Marcus Læca was too deeply in debt to give any more dinners. +Pratinas was fled to Egypt. And so he had come to +Baiæ, to harass Cornelia by his presence; to gibe at her; +and assure her that her uncle was more determined than ever +that she should marry him—say and do what she might. +</p> + +<p> +Ahenobarbus quartered himself in the Lentulan villa as the +prospective nephew-in-law of its owner. He brought with +him his customary train of underlings, and had travelled in +appropriate state, in a litter with eight picked bearers, lolling +on a cushion stuffed with rose-leaves, and covered with Maltese +gauze, one garland on his head, another round his neck, and +holding to his nose a smelling-bag of small-meshed linen +filled with roses. +</p> + +<p> +With all his effeminacy, he was beyond the least doubt +desperately determined to possess himself of Cornelia. His +passion was purely animal and unrefined, but none could doubt +it. Cornelia feared to have him near her, and knew peace +neither day nor night. He assumed all a master's rights over +the slaves and freedmen, sending them hither and yon to do +his bidding. He had recovered from the fear Cornelia had +struck into him, in her first defiance, and met her threats and +hauteur with open scorn. +</p> + +<p> +"You are a most adorable actress!" was his constant sneer. +And his every action told that he did not intend to let Cornelia +play with him a second time. With all his profligacy +and moral worthlessness, he had a tenacity of purpose and an +energy in this matter that showed that either Cornelia must in +the end bow to his will, or their contest would end in something +very like a tragedy. +</p> + +<p> +And if a tragedy, so be it, was the desperate resolve of Cornelia; +whose eyes were too stern for tears when she saw that +Lucius was still the former creature of appetite; full of +intrigue, sweethearts, seashore revels, carouses, singing, and +music parties and water excursions with creatures of his +choice from morning until midnight. She could not altogether +shun him, though she successfully resisted his half +blandishments, half coercion, to make her join in his wild +frivolities. One revenge she found she could take on him—a +revenge that she enjoyed because it proclaimed her own +intellectual superiority, and made Ahenobarbus writhe with +impotent vexation—she had him at her mercy when they +played at checkers;<a name="r133" href="#fn133">[133]</a> and at last Lucius lost so much money +and temper at this game of wit, not chance, that he would +sulkily decline a challenge. But this was poor consolation +to Cornelia. The time was drifting on. Before many days +Lentulus Crus and Caius Clodius Marcellus would be consuls, +and the anti-Cæsarians would be ready to work their great +opponent's undoing, or be themselves forever undone. Where +was Drusus? What was he doing? What part would he +play in the struggle, perhaps of arms, about to begin? O +for one sight of him, for one word! And the hunger in Cornelia's +breast grew and grew. +</p> + +<p> +Many are our wishes. Some flit through our hearts like +birds darting under the foliage of trees, then out again, lost +in the sunshine; others linger awhile and we nestle them in +our bosoms until we forget that they are there, and the noble +desire, the craving for something dear, for something that +bears for us as it were a divine image, is gone—we are the +poorer that we no longer wish to wish it. But some things +there are—some things too high or too deep for speech, too +secret for really conscious thought, too holy to call from the +innermost shrines of the heart; and there they linger and +hover, demanding to be satisfied, and until they are satisfied +there is void and dreariness within, be the sunshine never so +bright without. And so Cornelia was a-hungered. She could +fight against herself to save Drusus's life no longer; she could +build around herself her dream castles no more; she must see +him face to face, must hold his hand in hers, must feel his +breath on her cheek. +</p> + +<p> +Is it but a tale that is told, that soul can communicate to +distant soul? That through two sundered hearts without +visible communication can spring up, unforewarned, a single +desire, a single purpose? Is there no magnetism subtle beyond +all thought, that bounds from spirit to spirit, defying every +bond, every space? We may not say; but if Cornelia longed, +she longed not utterly in vain. One morning, as she was +dressing, Cassandra, who was moving around the room aiding +her mistress, let fall a very tiny slip of papyrus into Cornelia's +lap, and with it a whisper, "Don't look; but keep it carefully." +The injunction was needed, for several other serving-women +were in the room, and Cornelia more than suspected +that they were ready to spy on her to prevent unauthorized +correspondence with Drusus. When she was dressed, and +could walk alone on the terrace overlooking the sea, she +unrolled the papyrus and read:— +</p> + +<p> +"Delectissima, I have come from Rome to Puteoli. I cannot +live longer without seeing you. Great things are stirring, +and it may well be that ere long, if your uncle and his friends +have their way, I may be a proscribed fugitive from Italy, or +a dead man. But I must talk with your dear self first. Agias +was known by the familia, and had no difficulty in seeing +you quietly; but I have no such facility. I cannot remain +long. Plan how we may meet and not be interrupted. I +have taken Cassandra into my pay, and believe that she can +be trusted. <i>Vale</i>." +</p> + +<p> +There was no name of the sender; but Cornelia did not need +to question. Cassandra, who evidently knew that her mistress +would require her services, came carelessly strolling out +on to the terrace. +</p> + +<p> +"Cassandra," said Cornelia, "the last time I saw Quintus, +you betrayed us to my uncle; will you be more faithful +now?" +</p> + +<p> +The woman hung down her head. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>A!</i> domina, your uncle threatened me terribly. I did +not intentionally betray you! Did I not receive my beating? +And then Master Drusus is such a handsome and generous +young gentleman." +</p> + +<p> +"I can rely on you alone," replied Cornelia. "You must +arrange everything. If you are untrue, be sure that it is not +I who will in the end punish, but Master Drusus, whose +memory is long. You have more schemes than I, now that +Agias is not here to devise for me. You must make up any +stories that are necessary to save us from interruption, and +see that no one discovers anything or grows suspicious. My +hands are tied. I cannot see to plan. I will go to the +library, and leave everything to you." +</p> + +<p> +And with this stoical resolve to bear with equanimity whatever +the Fates flung in her way for good or ill, Cornelia tried +to bury herself in her Lucretius. Vain resolution! What +care for the atomic theory when in a day, an hour, a moment, +she might be straining to her heart another heart that was +reaching out toward hers, as hers did toward it. It was +useless to read; useless to try to admire the varying shades +of blue on the sea, tones of green, and tones of deep cerulean, +deepening and deepening, as her eye drifted off toward the +horizon, like the blendings of a chromatic series. And so +Cornelia passed the morning in a mood of joyful discontent. +Lucius Ahenobarbus, who came to have his usual passage of +arms with her, found her so extremely affable, yet half-preoccupied, +that he was puzzled, yet on the whole delighted. +"She must be yielding," he mentally commented; and when +they played at draughts, Cornelia actually allowed herself to +be beaten. Ahenobarbus started off for Puteoli in an excellent +humour. His litter had barely swung down the road +from the villa before Cassandra was knocking at her mistress's +chamber door. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Io!</i> domina," was her joyful exclamation, "I think I +have got every eavesdropper out of the way. Ahenobarbus +is off for Puteoli. I have cooked up a story to keep the +freedmen and other busybodies off. You have a desperate +headache, and cannot leave the room, nor see any one. But +remember the terrace over the water, where the colonnade +shuts it in on all sides but toward the sea. This afternoon, +if a boat with two strange-looking fishermen passes under the +embankment, don't be surprised." +</p> + +<p> +And having imparted this precious bit of information, the +woman was off. Drusus's gold pieces had made her the most +successful of schemers. +</p> + + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p> +Cornelia feigned her headache, and succeeded in making +herself so thoroughly petulant and exacting to all her maids, +that when she ordered them out of the room, and told them on +no account to disturb her in any respect for the rest of the +day, they "rejoiced with trembling," and had no anxiety to +thrust their attentions upon so unreasonable a mistress. And +a little while later a visit of a strolling juggler—whose call +had perhaps been prompted by Cassandra—made their respite +from duty doubly welcome. +</p> + +<p> +Cornelia was left to herself, and spent the next hour in a +division of labour before her silver wall-mirror, dressing—something +which was sufficiently troublesome for her, accustomed +to the services of a bevy of maids—and at the window, +gazing toward Puteoli for the fishing-boat that seemed never +in sight. At last the toilet was completed to her satisfaction. +Cornelia surveyed herself in her best silken purple flounced +stola, thrust the last pin into her hair, and confined it all +in a net of golden thread. Roman maidens were not as a +rule taught to be modest about their charms, and Cornelia, +with perfect frankness, said aloud to herself, "You are so +beautiful that Drusus can't help loving you;" and with this +candid confession, she was again on the terrace, straining her +eyes toward Puteoli. Boats came, boats went, but there was +none that approached the villa; and Cornelia began to harbour +dark thoughts against Cassandra. +</p> + +<p> +"If the wretched woman had played false to her mistress +again—" but the threat was never formulated. There was a +chink and click of a pair of oars moving on their thole-pins. +For an instant a skiff was visible at the foot of the embankment; +two occupants were in it. The boat disappeared under +the friendly cover of the protecting sea-wall of the lower +terrace. There was a little landing-place here, with a few +steps leading upward, where now and then a yacht was +moored. The embankment shut off this tiny wharf from view +on either side. Cornelia dared not leave the upper terrace. +Her heart beat faster and faster. Below she heard the slap, +slap, of the waves on the sea-wall, and a rattle of rings and +ropes as some skiff was being made fast. An instant more +and Drusus was coming, with quick, athletic bounds, up the +stairway to the second terrace. It was he! she saw him! In +her eyes he was everything in physique and virile beauty that +a maiden of the Republic could desire! The bitterness and +waiting of months were worth the blessedness of the instant. +Cornelia never knew what Drusus said to her, or what she +said to him. She only knew that he was holding her in his +strong arms and gazing into her eyes; while the hearts of +both talked to one another so fast that they had neither +time nor need for words. They were happy, happy! Long it +was before their utterance passed beyond the merest words of +endearment; longer still before they were composed enough for +Cornelia to listen to Drusus while he gave his own account of +Mamercus's heroic resistance to Dumnorix's gang at Præneste; +and told of his own visit to Ravenna, of his intense +admiration for the proconsul of the two Gauls; and of how he +had come to Puteoli and opened communications with Cassandra, +through Cappadox, the trusty body-servant who in the +guise of a fisherman was waiting in the boat below. +</p> + +<p> +"And as Homer puts it, so with us," cried Cornelia, at +length: "'And so the pair had joy in happy love, and joyed +in talking too, and each relating; she, the royal lady, what +she had endured at home, watching the wasteful throng of +suitors; and he, high-born Odysseus, what miseries he +brought on other men, and bore himself in anguish;—all +he told, and she was glad to hear.'" +</p> + +<p> +So laughed Cornelia when all their stories were finished, +likening their reunion to that of the son of Laërtes and the +long-faithful Penelope. +</p> + +<p> +"How long were Penelope and Odysseus asunder?" quoth +Drusus. +</p> + +<p> +"Twenty years." +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Vah!</i> We have not been sundered twenty months or +one-third as many. How shall we make the time fly more +rapidly?" +</p> + +<p> +"I know not," said Cornelia, for the first time looking down +and sighing, "a lifetime seems very long; but lifetimes will +pass. I shall be an old woman in a few years; and my hair +will be all grey, and you won't love me." +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Eho</i>," cried Drusus, "do you think I love you for your +hair?" +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know," replied Cornelia, shaking her head, "I am +afraid so. What is there in me more than any other woman +that you should love; except—" and here she raised her face +half-seriously, half in play—"I am very beautiful? Ah! if +I were a man, I would have something else to be loved for; I +would have eloquence, or strength, or power of command, or +wisdom in philosophy. But no, I can be loved for only two +things; an ignoble or a poor man would take me if I were +hideous as Atropos, for I am noble, and, if my uncle were an +honest guardian, rich. But you need not regard these at all, +so—" and she brushed her face across Drusus's cheek, touching +it with her hair. +</p> + +<p> +"O Cornelia," cried the young man, out of the fulness of +his heart, "we must not waste this precious time asking why +we love each other. Love each other we do as long as we +view the sun. O carissima! we cannot trust ourselves to +look too deeply into the whys and wherefores of things. We +men and women are so ignorant! We know nothing. What +is all our philosophy—words! What is all our state religion—empty +form! What is all our life—a dream, mostly evil, +that comes out of the eternal unconscious sleep and into that +unconscious sleep will return! And yet not all a dream; +for when I feel your hands in mine I know that I am not +dreaming—for dreamers feel nothing so delicious as this! +Not long ago I recalled what old Artabanus said to King +Xerxes when the millions of Persia passed in review before +their lord at Abydos, 'Short as our time is, death, through +the wretchedness of our life, is the most sweet refuge of our +race; and God, who gives us tastes that we enjoy of pleasant +times, is seen, in His very gift, to be envious.' And I +thought, 'How wise was the Persian!' And then I thought, +'No, though to live were to drag one's days in torture and in +woe, if only love come once into life, an eternity of misery is +endurable; yes, to be chained forever, as Prometheus, on +drearest mountain crag, if only the fire which is stolen be +that which kindles soul by soul.'" +</p> + +<p> +"Ah!" cried Cornelia, "if only these were to be real souls! +But what can we say? See my Lucretius here; read: 'I have +shown the soul to be formed fine and to be of minute bodies +and made up of much smaller first-beginnings than the liquid +air, or mist, or smoke. As you see water, when the vessels +are shattered, flow away on every side, and as mist and smoke +vanish away into the air, believe that the soul, too, is shed +abroad, and perishes much more quickly and dissolves sooner +into its first bodies, when once it has been taken out of the +limbs of a man and has withdrawn.' O Quintus, is the +thing within me that loves you lighter, more fragile, than +smoke? Shall I blow away, and vanish into nothingness? +It is that which affrights me!" +</p> + +<p> +And Drusus tried as best he might to comfort her, telling +her there was no danger that she or he would be dissipated +speedily, and that she must not fret her dear head with +things that set the sagest greybeards a-wrangling. Then he +told her about the political world, and how in a month at most +either every cloud would have cleared away, and Lentulus be +in no position to resist the legal claims which Drusus had on +the hand of his niece; or, if war came, if fortune but favoured +Cæsar, Cornelia's waiting for deliverance would not be for +long. Drusus did not dwell on the alternative presented if +civic strife came to arms; he only knew that, come what +might, Cornelia could never be driven to become the bride of +Lucius Ahenobarbus; and he had no need to exact a new +pledge of her faithful devotion. +</p> + +<p> +So at last, like everything terrestrial that is sweet and +lovely, the slowly advancing afternoon warned Drusus that +for this day, at least, they must separate. +</p> + +<p> +"I will come again to-morrow, or the next day, if Cassandra +can so arrange," said he, tearing himself away. "But part +to-night we must, nor will it make amends to imitate Carbo, +who, when he was being led to execution, was suddenly seized +with a pain in the stomach, and begged not to be beheaded +until he should feel a little better." +</p> + +<p> +He kissed her, strained her to his breast, and stepped +toward the landing-place. Cappadox had taken the boat out +from the moorings to minimize a chance of discovery by some +one in the house. Drusus was just turning for a last embrace, +when many voices and the plash of oars sounded below. Cornelia +staggered with dread. +</p> + +<p> +"It's Ahenobarbus," she gasped, in a deathly whisper; "he +sometimes comes back from Puteoli by boat. He will murder +you when he finds you here!" +</p> + +<p> +"Can't I escape through the house?" +</p> + +<p> +The words, however, were no sooner out of Drusus's mouth, +than Lucius Ahenobarbus, dressed in the most fashionably cut +scarlet lacerna, perfumed and coiffured to a nicety, appeared +on the terrace. Some evil genius had led him straight up +without the least delay. +</p> + +<p> +It was the first time that the two enemies had met face to +face since Drusus had declined the invitation to Marcus Læca's +supper. Be it said to Lucius's credit that he sensed the +situation with only the minimum of confusion, and instantly +realized all of Cornelia's worst fears. Drusus had drawn back +from the steps to the lower terrace, and stood with stern brow +and knotted fist, trapped by a blunder that could hardly have +been guarded against, no submissive victim to what fate had +in store. Cornelia, for once quite distraught with terror, +cowered on a bench, unable to scream through sheer fright. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Salve!</i> amice," was the satirical salutation of Ahenobarbus. +"How excellently well met. <i>Heus!</i> Phaon, bring +your boatmen, quick! Not an instant to lose!" +</p> + +<p> +"Pity! mercy!" gasped Cornelia, "I will do anything for +you, but spare him;" and she made as if to fall on her knees +before Ahenobarbus. +</p> + +<p> +"Girl!" Drusus had never spoken in that way to her before; +his tones were cold as ice. "Go into the house! Your place +is not here. If Lucius Ahenobarbus intends to murder me—" +</p> + +<p> +The boatmen and two or three other slaves that were +always at Ahenobarbus's heels were crowding up on to the +terrace ready to do their master's bidding. +</p> + +<p> +"Throw me that fellow over the balcony," ordered Lucius, +his sense of triumph and opportunity mastering every fear +that Flaccus would execute his threat of prosecution. "See +that he does not float!" +</p> + +<p> +Cornelia found her voice. She screamed, screamed shrilly, +and ran into the house. Already the familia was alarmed. +Two or three freedmen of Lentulus were rushing toward the +terrace. They were murdering Quintus! He was resisting, +resisting with all the powers of a wild animal driven to its +last lair. Outside, on the terrace, where but an instant before +she and her lover were cooing in delicious ecstasy, there were +oaths, blows, and the sharp pants and howls of mortal struggle. +And she could do nothing—nothing! And it was through his +love for her that Drusus was to go down to his untimely grave! +The seconds of struggle and anguish moved on leaden feet. +Every breath was agony, every sound maddening. And she +could do nothing—nothing. Still they were fighting. Phaon—she +knew his voice—was crying out as if in grievous pain. +And now the voice of Lucius Ahenobarbus sounded again: +"One thousand denarii if you fling him into the sea!" and +she could do nothing—nothing! She tore down the purple +tapestries around her bed, and dashed from its tripod a costly +bowl of opal Alexandrian glass—all in the mere rage of +impotence. And still they were fighting. What was that +ornament hanging on the wall, half hid behind the torn tapestry? +A scabbard—a sword, some relic of ancient wars! +And all the combatants were unarmed! The antique weapon +was held by stout thongs to the wall; she plucked it from +its fastenings with the strength of a Titaness. The rusty blade +resisted an instant; she dragged it forth. Then out on to the +terrace. Really only a moment had elapsed since she left it. +One of the slaves was lying dead, or stunned, prone on the +turf. Phaon was writhing and howling beside him, nursing a +broken jaw. The other assailants had sunk back in temporary +repulse and were preparing for a second rush. Drusus was +still standing. He half leaned upon the stone pedestal of an +heroic-sized Athena, who seemed to be spreading her protecting +ægis above him. His garments were rent to the veriest +shreds. His features were hidden behind streaming blood, +his arms and neck were bruised and bleeding; but clearly +his adversaries could not yet congratulate themselves that the +lion's strength was too sapped to be no longer dreaded. +</p> + +<p> +"Come, you," was his hot challenge to Lucius Ahenobarbus, +who stood, half delighted, half afraid, shivering and laughing +spasmodically, as he surveyed the struggle from a safe distance. +"Come, you, and have your share in the villany!" +</p> + +<p> +And again, for it was all the affair of the veriest moment, +the slaves rushed once more on their indocile victim. "Freedom +to the man who pulls him down!" was the incentive of +Ahenobarbus. +</p> + +<p> +But again Drusus, who, to tell the truth, had to contend with +only the flabby, soft-handed, unskilful underlings of Lucius, +struck out so furiously that another of his attackers fell backward +with a groan and a gasp. All this Cornelia saw while, +sword in hand, she flew toward the knot of writhing men. +She pushed aside the slaves by sheer force. She asked no +civilities, received none. +</p> + +<p> +"Pull her away!" shouted Lucius, and started himself to +accomplish his purpose. A rude hand smote her in the face; +she staggered, fell; but as she fell a hand snatched the sword +out of her grasp. She released her hold gladly, for did she +not know that hand? When she rose to her feet there were +shrieks of fear and pain on every side. The slaves were +cringing in dread before him. Drusus was standing under the +Athena, with the keen steel in his hand—its blade dyed +crimson; and at his feet lay Ahenobarbus's favourite valet—the +wretch literally disembowelled by one deadly stroke. +</p> + +<p> +"Fly, fly!" she implored; "they will bring arms! They +will never let you escape." +</p> + +<p> +"I'll pay you for letting him kill Croesus," howled Lucius, +facing himself resolutely toward his enemy. "How can he +fly when the house is full of servants, and his boat is away +from the landing? You give yourself trouble for no purpose, +my lady! Lentulus's people will be here with swords in a +moment!" +</p> + +<p> +But as he spoke a blow of some unseen giant dashed him +prostrate, and upon the terrace from below came Cappadox, +foaming with anxious rage, his brow blacker than night, his +brawny arms swinging a heavy paddle with which he clubbed +the cowering slaves right and left. +</p> + +<p> +"Have they killed him! Have the gods spared him!" +These two demands came bounding in a breath from the +honest servant's lips. And when he saw Drusus, bleeding, +but still standing, he rushed forward to fling his arms about +his master's neck. +</p> + +<p> +"Fly! fly!" urged Cornelia, and out of the building, armed +now with swords and staves, came flocking the freedmen of +the house and as many slaves as they could muster. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Salve!</i> carissima," and Drusus, who never at the instant +gave thought to the blood all over him, pressed her in one +last kiss. He gained the terrace steps by a single bound +ahead of his armed attackers. Cappadox smote down the +foremost freedman with a buffet of the oar. Ahenobarbus +staggered to his feet as Drusus sprang over him, and the latter +tore a packet of tablets from his hand, never stopping in +his own flight. +</p> + +<p> +Then down on to the little landing-place pursuers and pursued +tumbled. The large six-oared boat of Ahenobarbus was +moored close beside Cappadox's skiff. +</p> + +<p> +Drusus was into the skiff and casting loose before Lucius +could descend from the upper terrace. The young Domitian +was in a terrible distress. +</p> + +<p> +"The letters! The letters! Freedom to you all if you save +them! Cast off! Chase! Sink the skiff!" +</p> + +<p> +But before any of the unskilful assailants could execute the +order, Cappadox had driven the butt of his paddle clean through +the bottom planking of the larger boat, and she was filling +rapidly. The paddle shivered, but it was madness to embark +on the stoven craft. +</p> + +<p> +The skiff shot away from the landing as though an intelligent +soul, rising equal to the needs of the crisis. The blue +dancing water lapped between her gunwale and the shore. +Drusus stood erect in the boat, brushed back the blood that +was still streaming over his eyes, and looked landward. The +slaves and freedmen were still on the landing, gazing blankly +after their escaped prey. Ahenobarbus was pouring out upon +their inefficiency a torrent of wrathful malediction, that promised +employment for the "whipper" for some time to come. +But Drusus gave heed to none of these things. Standing on +the upper terrace, her hair now dishevelled and blowing in +tresses upon the wind, was Cornelia, and on her all her +lover's gaze was fixed. +</p> + +<p> +"Safe?" and the melodious shout drifted out over the +widening stretch of water. +</p> + +<p> +"Safe! to live and to love!" And Drusus thought, with +his keen lover's eye, he could see the dimming face brighten, +and the hands go up in a gesture of thanksgiving. +</p> + +<p> +It was all that was said. Another boat might be procured +at any time by Lucius Ahenobarbus; and with only one paddle +Cappadox could make but slow headway. Stiff and bruised, +the young man flung himself on the bottom of the skiff, and +panted and nursed himself after his mortal struggle. Now +that the combat was over he felt weak and sore enough, and +was quite content to let Cappadox adjust such improvised +bandages as were available, and scull him toward Puteoli. +Fortunately none of the bruises was caused by any harder +weapons than fists, and, though his body was black and blue, +he had sustained no serious hurt. And so he rested his head +on a wrap, and closed his eyes, and called up before his mind +the vision of Cornelia. How beautiful she had been when he +met her! How much more beautiful when she thrust her way +through the fighting slaves and put the sword in his hand, at +that moment of mortal combat, which he expected to be his +last! Did he only love her because her face was sweet, her +voice was sweet, and the touch of her hair was sweet? Happy +was he, her lover;—he could say "no," and have never a fear +that his sincerity would be tested. And Lucius Ahenobarbus? +He hated him with a perfect hatred. A Roman who was no +Roman! A womanish man whom every true woman must +despise! A serpent who had not even the bright scales of a +serpent! What would he do to Cornelia? Drusus's face grew +hard. Had he, Drusus, yet done any injury worth mentioning +to his enemy? Why had he not used the moment when Lucius +lay prostrate, and run the sword through his body? Ill-timed, +thoughtless mercy! But the letters, the packet he had +wrenched from Ahenobarbus's hand? Why was it so precious? +Drusus had flung it into the boat. He took up the packet. +Doubtless some <i>billet-doux</i>. Why should he degrade his mind +by giving an instant's thought to any of his enemy's foul +intrigues? He could only open his eyes with difficulty, but a +curiosity that did not add to his self-esteem overmastered him. +The seal! Could he believe his senses—the imprint of three +trophies of victory? It was the seal of Pompeius! The +instinct of the partisan and politician conquered every infirmity. +He broke the wax, untied the thread, and opened. +The letters were in cipher, and at first sight illegible. +But this did not present any insuperable difficulty. Most +classic ciphers were sufficiently simple to be solved without +very much trouble. Drusus knew that in all Cæsar's correspondence +a cipher had been used which consisted merely of +substituting for each letter the fourth letter beyond it, as +D for A; and a little examination showed that the present +cryptogram was made on the same rude method. After a few +guesses he struck the proper substitutions, and was able to +read. +</p> + +<p> +"Pompeius Magnus, Imperator, to the most excellent Lucius +Domitius Ahenobarbus, Rome, tenth day before the Calends of +January. If it is well with you, it is well; I am well.<a name="r134" href="#fn134">[134]</a> I +write to warn you that we are told that Quintus Drusus, your +personal enemy and the friend of our own foes, is in Campania. +We need not add more, for we trust to you to see to +it that he stirs up no faction in favour of his master in those +parts. Be assured that you will not be long troubled by this +enemy. He is marked out as one of the earliest of those to +pay with their lives for their conspiracy against the Republic. +If possible see that Drusus is seized for some alleged offence, +and lodged in prison until the new consuls come into office. +After that time he can work little or no mischief. Use the +uttermost endeavours in this matter; check him and his +schemes at all hazards. I trust your energy and prudence, +which your father and Lentulus Crus assure me will not fail. +<i>Vale!</i>" +</p> + +<p> +Drusus lay back in the bottom of the boat, and looked up +into the blue dome. It was the same azure as ever, but a +strange feeling of disenchantment seemed to have come over +him. For the first time he realized the deadly stakes for which +he and his party were playing their game. What fate had +been treasured up for him in the impending chaos of civil +war? If he perished in battle or by the executioner's axe, +what awaited Cornelia? But he had chosen his road; he +would follow it to the end. The battle spirit mounted in +him. +</p> + +<p> +The sky was darkening when the boat drew up to one of the +busy quays of Puteoli. Stars had begun to twinkle. Cappadox +aided his bruised and stiffened master to disembark. +</p> + +<p> +"To-night rest," cried Drusus, forgetting all his wounds. +"To-morrow away to Rome. And at Rome—the war of the +Gods and the Giants!" +</p> + + + + + +<h2 id="ch14">CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<h2>THE NEW CONSULS</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p> +It had come—the great crisis that by crooked ways or +straight was to set right all the follies and crimes of many a +generation. On the Calends of January Lentulus Crus and +Caius Clodius Marcellus were inaugurated consuls. In solemn +procession with Senate, priesthoods, and people, they had gone +up to the Capitol and sacrificed chosen white steers to Jupiter, +"Best and Greatest,"<a name="r135" href="#fn135">[135]</a> and invoked his blessing upon the +Roman State. And so began the last consulship of the Free +Republic. +</p> + +<p> +Rome was in a ferment. All knew the intention of the +consuls to move the recall of Cæsar from his government. +All knew that Curio had brought a letter from Ravenna, the +contents whereof he carefully guarded. That same afternoon +the consuls convened the Senate in the Temple of Capitoline +Jove, and every man knew to what purpose. All Rome swept +in the direction of the Capitol. Drusus accompanied his +friend, the tribune Antonius, as the latter's viator, for there +was need of a trusty guard. +</p> + +<p> +The excitement in the streets ran even higher than when +Catilina's great plot was exposed. The streets were jammed +with crowds,—not of the idle and base born, but of equites and +noble ladies, and young patricians not old enough to step into +their fathers' places. They were howling and cheering for +Pompeius and Lentulus, and cursing the absent proconsul. +As Drusus passed along at the side of Antonius, he could not +fail to hear the execrations and vile epithets flung from every +side at him and his friend. He had always supposed the +masses were on Cæsar's side, but now every man's hand +seemed turned against the conqueror of the Gauls. Was there +to be but a repetition of the same old tragedy of the Gracchi +and of Marcus Drusus? A brave man standing out for the +people, and the people deserting him in his hour of need? +</p> + +<p> +They reached the Temple. The Senate was already nearly +ready for business; every toothless consular who had been in +public service for perquisites only, and who for years had +been wasting his life enjoying the pickings of an unfortunate +province—all such were in their seats on the front row of +benches. Behind them were the <i>prætorii</i> and the <i>ædilicii,</i><a name="r136" href="#fn136">[136]</a> a +full session of that great body which had matched its tireless +wisdom and tenacity against Pyrrhus, Hannibal, and Antiochus +the Great, and been victorious. Drusus ran his eye over +the seats. There they sat, even in the midst of the general +excitement, a body of calm, dignified elders, severe and +immaculate in their long white togas and purple-edged tunics. +The multitudes without were howling and jeering; within the +temple, reigned silence—the silence that gathered about the +most august and powerful assembly the world has ever seen. +</p> + +<p> +The Temple was built of cool, grey stone; the assembly hall +was quite apart from the shrine. The Senate had convened +in a spacious semicircular vaulted chamber, cut off from the +vulgar world by a row of close, low Doric columns. From +the shade of these pillars one could command a sweeping view +of the Forum, packed with a turbulent multitude. Drusus +stood on the Temple steps and looked out and in. Without, +confusion; within, order; without, a leaderless mob; +within, an assembly almost every member of which had been +invested with some high command. For a moment the young +man revived courage; after all, the Roman Senate was left as +a bulwark against passion and popular wrath; and for the +time being, as he looked on those motionless, venerable faces, +his confidence in this court of final appeal was restored. Then +he began to scan the features of the consulars, and his heart +sank. There was Lucius Calpurnius Piso, with the visage of +a philosopher, but within mere moral turpitude. There was +Favonius; there were the two sanguinary Marcelli, consuls +respectively for the two preceding years; there was Domitius; +there was Cato, his hard face illumined doubtless by +the near realization of unholy hopes; there was Faustus Sulla, +another bitter oligarch. Drusus saw them all, and knew that +the Cæsarian cause had been doomed without a hearing. Caius +Marcellus, the new consul, sat in his separate seat, in all the +splendid dignity of his embroidered toga. Around him stood +his twelve lictors. But Lentulus, at whose behest the Senate +had been convened, and who was to act as its president, had +not come. Drusus followed Antonius over to the farther side +of the house, where on a long, low bench<a name="r137" href="#fn137">[137]</a> the other tribunes +of the plebs were seated. Quintus Cassius was already there. +The other tribunes darted angry glances at their newly arrived +colleague. Drusus remained standing behind Antonius, ready +to act as a body-guard, as much as to serve in mere official +capacity. Even as they entered he had noticed a buzz and +rustle pass along the tiers of seats, and whisper pass on +whisper, "There come the Cæsarians!" "What treason is in +that letter!" "We must have an end of their impudence!" +And Drusus ran his eye over the whole company, and sought +for one friendly look; but he met with only stony glances or +dark frowns. There was justice neither in the people nor in +the Senate. Their hearts were drunk with a sense of revenge +and self-willed passion; and Justice literally weighed out her +bounty with blinded eyes. +</p> + +<p> +There was another hum and rustle. And into the hall +swept Lentulus Crus, in robes of office, with Scipio, the +father-in-law of Pompeius, at his side. Before him strode +his twelve lictors bearing their fasces erect. Not a word was +spoken while Lentulus Crus seated himself in the ivory curule +chair of office. No sign marked the extreme gravity of the +occasion. +</p> + +<p> +"Let the sacred chickens be brought," said Lentulus. +</p> + +<p> +Never a lip twitched or curled in all that august multitude +while several public attendants brought in a wooden cage +containing three or four rather skinny specimens of poultry. +Not even Drusus saw anything really ridiculous when Lentulus +arose, took grain from an attendant, and scattered a +quantity of it before the coop. Close at his elbow stood the +augur, to interpret the omen,—a weazened, bald-headed old +senator, who wore a purple-striped tunic,<a name="r138" href="#fn138">[138]</a> and carried in his +hand a long stick,<a name="r139" href="#fn139">[139]</a> curved at its head into a spiral. Drusus +knew perfectly well that the fowls had been kept without +food all that day; but it would have seemed treason to all +the traditions of his native land to cry out against this pompous +farce. The hungry chickens pecked up the grain. The +augur muttered formula after formula, and Lentulus took +pains to repeat the meaningless jargon after him. Presently +the augur ceased his chatter and nodded to the consul. Lentulus +turned toward the Senate. +</p> + +<p> +"There is no evil sight or sound!"<a name="r140" href="#fn140">[140]</a> was his announcement, +meaning that business could be transacted. +</p> + +<p> +Whereupon up from his seat sprang Marcus Antonius, flourishing +in his hand a packet. Loudly Lentulus bade him hold +his peace; loudly the tribunes who sided with the Senate party +forbade him to read. But a rustle and stir of eager curiosity +ran along all the benches, and first one voice, then many, cried +out that the letter must be made public. With very ill grace +the consul declared that Antonius should be allowed to read +the communication from Cæsar. +</p> + +<p> +Antonius read, and all were astonished at the moderation of +the much-maligned proconsul. Cæsar made it clear that he +would stand on his rights as to the second consulship; but +to withdraw possibilities of seeming to issue a threat, he +would disband his entire army if Pompeius would only do the +same, or, if preferred, he would retain simply Cisalpine Gaul +and Illyria with two legions, until the consular elections were +over. In either event it would be out of his power to menace +the constitution, and the public tranquillity would remain +quite undisturbed. +</p> + +<p> +But before the murmur of approbation at this unexpected +docility wore away, Lentulus burst forth into a fiery invective. +All knew why the Senate had been convened, nor would he +allow a few smooth promises to bring the state into danger. +The law provided that a proconsul should leave his province +at a certain time; and if Cæsar thought that a special law +exempted him from this requirement, it were well he were +disabused of the notion. The Senate had been convened +because the presiding consul felt that the continuance of +Cæsar in his governorship was a menace to the safety of the +Republic. Let the Conscript Fathers express themselves +boldly, and he, Lentulus, would not desert them; let them +waver and try to court the favour of Cæsar as in former +times, and the consul would have to look to his own safety—and +he could make his own terms with Cæsar. +</p> + +<p> +Lentulus had started out with studied moderation. His +harangue ended with a stinging menace. A low mutter, difficult +to interpret, ran through the Senate. Again Antonius +leaped to his feet. +</p> + +<p> +"Conscript Fathers, will you not consider the mild offers of +Cæsar? Do not reject them without debate." +</p> + +<p> +"I ask the opinion of the Senate on my own proposition," +broke in Lentulus. "Metellus Scipio, declare what is your +judgment." +</p> + +<p> +"I protest at this unseemly haste," cried Antonius; "let us +consider the letter first!" +</p> + +<p> +"And I protest against this boisterous and unlawful interruption," +retorted the consul, fiercely. "Rise, Metellus Scipio!" +</p> + +<p> +Antonius flushed with rage, but sank into his seat. Drusus +leaned over his friend's shoulder and whispered "Veto." Antonius +shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +"They must speak. We should be foolish to shoot away our +best arrow before the battle had really begun." +</p> + +<p> +Scipio arose. He was not the "chief senator,"<a name="r141" href="#fn141">[141]</a> usually +entitled to speak first; but everybody knew that his words +were the mere expressions of his son-in-law, the mighty Pompeius. +His oratory and physical presence were wretched, +but all the Senate hung upon his words. +</p> + +<p> +"Pompeius did not intend to abandon the Republic, if the +Senate would support him; but let them act with energy, for +otherwise in the future they might need his aid never so much, +and yet implore it in vain." +</p> + +<p> +"You want to destroy the Republic!" cried Quintus Cassius, +half leaping from his seat. +</p> + +<p> +"We want to destroy <i>you</i>!" retorted Domitius, savagely. +</p> + +<p> +But all men were not so blinded by fury, hate, and greed +of power and revenge. To the dismay of his party Caius +Marcellus, the second consul, counselled a certain kind of +moderation. There was no love lost by the noble "Optimates" +upon Pompeius, and Marcellus hinted this plainly +when he said that all Italy must be put under arms, and with +such an army at the disposal of the Senate, it could act as it +saw fit,—to get rid of a troublesome protector, he implied, +no less than an open enemy. And close after him followed +Marcus Calidius and Marcus Rufus, two senators, who had at +least the sagacity to perceive that it would not free the Commonwealth +to crush Cæsar, by flinging themselves into the +arms of Pompeius. "Let Pompeius go off to his Spanish +province, to which he was accredited proconsul; it was but +natural Cæsar should think himself ill treated, seeing that +two legions had been taken from him for Eastern service, and +Pompeius was keeping these very troops close to Rome." +</p> + +<p> +For one moment it seemed to Drusus that wisdom and justice +had not deserted the Senate of his native state. The +consuls were divided; two influential men were counselling +moderation. Surely the Senate would not push to extremities. +But he had not reckoned on the spell which the malevolent +spirit of Lentulus had cast over the assembly. In bitter +words the presiding consul refused to put Calidius's proposal +to a vote, and then, turning directly upon his colleague before +the face of the whole multitude, he poured out reproof and +vituperation. Marcellus turned red and then black in the +face with rage. Drusus's heart was beating rapidly with +hope. So long as the consuls were at enmity, little would +be done! Suddenly Scipio started as if to leave the assembly. +"He's going to call in Pompeius's cohorts!" belched Lentulus. +Marcellus turned pale. Drusus saw Calidius's friends +whispering with him, evidently warning and remonstrating. +Senators cast uneasy glances toward the doorways, as if +expecting to see a century of legionaries march in to enforce +the decrees of Pompeius's spokesmen. Marcellus staggered +to his feet. He was cowed, and evidently felt himself in +personal danger. +</p> + +<p> +"Conscript Fathers," he stammered, "I—I withdraw my +motion to delay action for considering the recall of +Cæsar." +</p> + +<p> +"You have done well!" shouted Lentulus, triumphing +savagely. Scipio ostentatiously settled back on his seat, +while Cato called with warning, yet exultation:— +</p> + +<p> +"Take care what you do. Cæsar is the only sober man +among all those engaged in the plot to overturn the government. +Remember with whom you must deal, and act!" +</p> + +<p> +Then Scipio arose once more. Every one knew that his +fiat was law. "Conscript Fathers," he began, "Marcus Cato +speaks well. Consider the power of Cæsar. He has trained +up bands of gladiators whom his friends, both senators and +knights, are drilling for him. He is doubling his soldiers' +pay, giving them extra corn, slaves, attendants, and land +grants. A great part of the Senate,—yes, Cicero even, they +say,—owes him money, at low and favourable rates of interest; +he has actually made presents to freedmen and influential +slaves. All young prodigals in debt are in his pay. He has +made presents to win the favour of cities and princes, or been +lending them troops without vote of the Senate. In Italy, +Gaul, and Spain,—yes, in Greece, too, and Asia, he is winning +the good-will of communities by erecting splendid public +buildings. So great is his present power! What he will do +in a second consulship I dare not say. I dare not assign +bounds to his ambition. Conscript Fathers, shall we vote +ourselves freemen or slaves? What more can I add to the +words of the consul? I vote to ratify the proposition of +Lucius Lentulus, that Cæsar either disband his army on a +fixed day, or be declared a public enemy!" +</p> + +<p> +"And what is your opinion, Lucius Domitius?" demanded +Lentulus, while never a voice was raised to oppose Scipio. +</p> + +<p> +"Let the Senate remember," replied Domitius, "that Cæsar +will justify the meaning of his name—the 'hard-hitter,' and +let us strike the first and telling blow." +</p> + +<p> +A ripple of applause swept down the Senate. The anti-Cæsarians +had completely recovered from their first discomfiture, +and were carrying all sentiment before them. Already +there were cries of "A vote! a vote! Divide the Senate! +A vote!" +</p> + +<p> +"Conscript Fathers," said Lentulus, "in days of great emergency +like this, when your minds seem so happily united in +favour of doing that which is for the manifest safety of the +Republic, I will not ask for the opinions of each senator in +turn. Let the Senate divide; let all who favour the recall of +the proconsul of the Gauls pass to the right, those against to +the left. And so may it be well and prosperous for the +Commonwealth." +</p> + +<p> +But Antonius was again on his feet; and at his side stood +Quintus Cassius. +</p> + +<p> +"Lucius Lentulus," he thundered, "I forbid the division. +<i>Veto!</i>" +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Veto!</i>" shouted Cassius. +</p> + +<p> +Domitius, too, had risen. "Conscript Fathers, let the consuls +remonstrate with the tribunes to withdraw their prohibition. +And, if they do not succeed, let them lay before +the Senate that order which is the safeguard of the +Republic." +</p> + +<p> +Everybody knew what Domitius meant. If Antonius would +not give way, martial law was to be declared. Hot and furious +raged the debate. More and more passionate the expressions +of party hatred. More and more menacing the gestures directed +upon the two Cæsarian tribunes. But even the impetuous fierceness +of Lentulus, Cato, Scipio, and Domitius combined could +not drive the browbeaten Senate to cast loose from its last +mooring that night. Domitius's measure went over. It was +late—the stars were shining outside. Lamps had been brought +in, and threw their ruddy glare over the long tiers of seats and +their august occupants. Finally the angry debate ended, because +it was a physical impossibility to continue longer. Senators +went away with dark frowns or care-knit foreheads. +Out in the Forum bands of young "Optimates" were shouting +for Pompeius, and cursing Cæsar and his followers. Drusus, +following Antonius, felt that he was the adherent of a lost +cause, the member of a routed army that was defending its +last stronghold, which overwhelming numbers must take, be +the defence never so valiant. And when very late he lay down +on his bed that night, the howls of the fashionable mob were +still ringing in his ears. +</p> + + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p> +That night the most old-fashioned and sober Roman went +to bed at an advanced hour. Men were gathered in little knots +along the streets, in the forums, in the porticos and basilicas, +arguing, gesticulating, wrangling. Military tribunes and centurions +in armour of Pompeius's legions were parading on the +<i>comitium</i>.<a name="r142" href="#fn142">[142]</a> Veterans of that leader were jostling about in the +crowd, clanking their newly furbished armour and shouting +for their old general. If a man spoke for Cæsar, a crowd of +bystanders was ready to hoot him down. Staid householders +locked up their dwellings and stationed trusty slaves at the +doors to see that the crowds did not take to riot and pillage. +The sailors from the wharves had been drinking heavily in all +the taverns, and now roved up and down the crowded streets, +seeking opportunity for brawls. Thieves and cutpurses were +plying their most successful work; but no officials had time to +direct the efforts of the harassed and slender police corps. To +Pompeius's palace, without the gates, every man whose voice or +vote seemed worth the winning had been summoned. All the +senators had streamed out thither; and there the Magnus had +brought them under the spell of his martial authority and made +them as wax in his hand. And all "that majesty that doth +hedge about a king," or about a victorious general, exerted its +full influence. The senators came into the palace of Pompeius +as into the palace of their despot. He stood before them in his +largest hall, wearing the embroidered robe of a triumphator, +with the laurel crown of his victories upon his head. At his +right hand, as first vizir of his state, stood Lentulus Crus; +at his left Lucius Domitius. The senators came to him and +bowed low, and said their "<i>Aves</i>" and "<i>Salves</i>" as though +cringing before a Mithridates or Tigranes of the East; and +Pompeius, by the cordiality or coolness of his response, indicated +which of his vassals had or had not fallen under his +disfavour. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, despotism had come at last for Rome. The oligarchy +had by its corrupt incapacity made a tyranny inevitable. They +could make choice of masters, but a master they must have. +Many were the proud Fabii, Claudii, and Valerii present that +night—men whose lines of curule ancestors were as long as the +duration of the Republic—who ground their teeth with shame +and inward rage the very moment they cried, "<i>Salve, Magne!</i>" +Yet the recipient of all this adulation was in no enviable frame +of mind. He looked harassed and weary, despite the splendour +of his dress and crown. And many were the whispered conversations +that passed between him and his ministers, or rather +custodians, Lentulus and Domitius. +</p> + +<p> +"Ah! poor Julia," sighed Pompeius, whose mind ever +reverted to his dead wife, "what misery would have been +yours if you had seen this day. Poor Julia; how I loved her; +and Cæsar, her father, loved her too; and now—" +</p> + +<p> +"Be yourself, Magnus," expostulated the consul at his side; +"remember that for the good of the Republic every personal +affection is to be put away. Recall Brutus, who put his own +sons to death because they committed treason. Remember what +Scipio Æmilianus said when he learned that Tiberius Gracchus, +his dear brother-in-law, had been put to death for sedition. He +quoted Homer's line:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +"'So perish all who do the like again!'" +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +"And must I trample down every tie, every affection?" complained +wretched Pompeius, who never ceased hoping against +hope that something would avert the catastrophe. +</p> + +<p> +"There is no tie, no affection, Magnus," said Domitius, +sternly, "that binds you to Cæsar. Cast his friendship from +your breast as you would a viper. Think only of being justly +hailed with Romulus, Camillus, and Marius as the fourth +founder of Rome. Strike, and win immortal glory." +</p> + +<p> +And so to the last hour these confederates wrought upon +their supple instrument, and bent him to their will; and their +tool in turn had all else at his mercy. Pompeius addressed the +senators, and, well trained by his guardians, spoke with brutal +frankness to those who had dared to advise moderation. +</p> + +<p> +"You, Rufus," he said, pointing a menacing finger, before +which that senator cowered in dread, "have been advising the +Republic to tolerate the chief of its enemies. You bid me to +disarm or withdraw from Italy, as though the lives and property +of any good men would be safe the moment Cæsar was +left unopposed to pour his cohorts of barbarous Gauls and Germans +into the country. You, Calidius, have given the same +untimely advice. Beware lest you repent the hour when you +counselled that I should disarm or quit the neighbourhood of +Rome." The two-edged suggestion contained in this last warning +was too marked for the reproved men not to turn pale with +dread, and slink away trembling behind their associates. +</p> + +<p> +"But," continued Pompeius, "I have praise as well as blame; +Marcus Cato has not deserted the Republic. He has advised, +and advised well, that the proconsul of the Gauls be stripped +of his legions." It was Cato's turn now to bite his lips with +mortification, for in times past he had foretold that through +Pompeius great miseries would come to the state, and in his +prætorship had declared that Pompeius ought to go to his +province, and not stay at home to stir up tumults and anarchy +from which he could emerge as monarch. And such praise +from the Magnus's lips, under the present circumstances, was +gall and wormwood to his haughty soul. +</p> + +<p> +"And," continued Pompeius, "I shall not forget to applaud +the energetic counsels of Domitius and Lentulus Crus. Let +those who wish to preserve life and property," he added, with +a menacing significance, "see to it that they do as these gentlemen +advise." +</p> + +<p> +And thereupon there was a great shout of applause from +all the more rabid senators, in which the rest thought it safer +to join, with simulated heartiness. But Pompeius did not stop +here. He brought before the senators tribunes from the two +legions taken from Cæsar, and these tribunes loudly declaimed—having +learned their lesson well—that their troops were ill-affected +toward their former commander, and would follow +Pompeius to the last. And the Magnus produced veteran +officers of his old campaigns, whom hope of reward and promotion +had induced to come and declare for their former commander. +Late, very late, the informal session of the Senate +broke up. The "Fathers of the Republic" went each man to +his own dwelling; but there was no longer any doubt as to what +was to come of the doings of the day. +</p> + +<p> +Flaccus, the banker, had of course no access to the conference; +but he had waited outside the gate of the palace, to learn +the issue from an acquaintance in the Senate. His patience +was at last rewarded. +</p> + +<p> +"Tell me, friend," was his question, "what will be the outcome +of this; shall I risk any loans to-morrow?" +</p> + +<p> +The friendly senator seemed doubtful. +</p> + +<p> +"Cæsar is a ruined man. Who imagines his legions will +fight? We know Labienus is with Pompeius." +</p> + +<p> +"You are wrong," said Flaccus. +</p> + +<p> +"Wrong? I?" replied the senator. "I know whereof I +speak." +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Phy!"</i> cried the banker, "not Cæsar, but you are ruined. +The legions will fight." +</p> + +<p> +"Don't prophesy," sneered the acquaintance, "seeing that +you brokers always keep out of politics." +</p> + +<p> +"You politicians are blind," retorted Flaccus. +</p> + + +<hr /> + +<p> +The debate raged on. But by law the Senate could not +convene on the third and fourth of the month, and the question +of setting aside the tribunician veto went over until the fifth. +It was the last lull before the outbreak of the great tempest. +The little group of Cæsarians put forth their final efforts. +Drusus went in person to call on Cicero, the great orator, and +plead with him to come out from his residence in the suburbs +and argue for peace. The destroyer of Catilina had declared +that he would not forfeit his rights to a triumph for his Cilician +victories by appearing prematurely in the Senate. Besides, +he could never antagonize Pompeius. Curio smiled +grimly when his colleague reported his fruitless embassy. +</p> + +<p> +"I think, my friends," said the politician, "we shall soon +prove the old saying, 'Whom the gods would destroy, they first +make mad.'" +</p> + + + + +<h2 id="ch15">CHAPTER XV</h2> + +<h2>THE SEVENTH OF JANUARY</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p> +The rapid march of events that week had taken Drusus out +of himself, and made him forgetful of personal consequences; +but it sobered him when he heard Curio and Cælius, his associates, +telling Balbus where their wills would be found deposited +if anything calamitous were to befall them. After all, life was +very sweet to the young Livian. He could not at heart desire +to drift off into nothingness—to stop breathing, thinking, feeling. +And for the last time he reviewed his position; told +himself that it was not an unworthy cause for which he was +contending; that it was not treason, but patriotism, to wish to +overthrow the great oligarchy of noble families, who by their +federated influence had pulled the wires to every electoral +assembly, so that hardly a man not of their own coterie had +been elected to high office for many a long year; while the +officials themselves had grown full and wanton on the revenues +wrung from the score of unfortunate provinces. +</p> + +<p> +The feeling against the Cæsarians was very bitter in the city. +Cæsar had always been the friend and darling of the populace; +but, now that his star seemed setting, hardly a voice was raised, +save to cry up the patriotism and determination of the consuls +and Pompeius Magnus. Soldiers of the latter's legions were +everywhere. The Senate was to convene the afternoon of the +seventh, in the Curia of Pompeius, in the Campus Martius. +Lentulus Crus was dragging forth every obscure senator, every +retired politician, whose feet almost touched the grave, to swell +his majority. All knew that the tribunes' vetoes were to be set +aside, and arbitrary power decreed to the consuls. Drusus began +to realize that the personal peril was pressing. +</p> + +<p> +"Won't his head look pretty for the crows to pick at?" commented +Marcus Læca to a friend, as the two swept past Drusus +on the street. The Livian heard the loudly muttered words and +trembled. It was easy to laud the Decii who calmly sacrificed +their lives for the Republic, and many another martyr to patriotism; +it was quite another thing to feel the mortal fear of death +coursing in one's veins, to reflect that soon perhaps the dogs +might be tearing this body which guarded that strange thing +one calls self; to reflect that all which soon will be left of one +is a bleaching skull, fixed high in some public place, at which +the heartless mob would point and gibber, saying, "That is the +head of Quintus Livius Drusus, the rebel!" +</p> + +<p> +Drusus wandered on—on to the only place in Rome where +he could gain the moral courage to carry him undaunted through +that which was before him—to the Atrium of Vesta. He +entered the house of the Vestals and sent for his aunt. Fabia +came quickly enough, for her heart had been with her nephew +all these days that tried men's souls. The noble woman put +her arms around the youth—for he was still hardly more—and +pressed him to her breast. +</p> + +<p> +"Aunt Fabia," said Drusus, growing very weak and pale, +now that he felt her warm, loving caress, "do you know that +in two or three days you will have as nephew a proscribed +insurgent, perhaps with a price on his head, who perhaps +is speedily to die by the executioner, like the most ignoble +felon?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," said Fabia, also very pale, yet smiling with a sweet, +grave smile—the smile of a goddess who grieves at the miseries +of mortal men, yet with divine omniscience glances beyond, +and sees the happiness evolved from pain. "Yes, I have +heard of all that is passing in the Senate. And I know, too, +that my Quintus will prove himself a Fabian and a Livian, to +whom the right cause and the good of the Republic are all—and +the fear of shame and death is nothing." And then she +sat down with him upon a couch, and took his head in her +lap, and stroked him as if she were his mother. "Ah! my +Quintus," she said, "you are still very young, and it is easy +for one like you to enlist with all your ardour in a cause that +seems righteous; yes, and in the heat of the moment to make +any sacrifice for it; but it is not so easy for you or any other +man calmly to face shame and annihilation, when the actual +shadow of danger can be seen creeping up hour by hour. I +know that neither you nor many another man wise and good +believes that there are any gods. And I—I am only a silly +old woman, with little or no wisdom and wit—" +</p> + +<p> +"Not silly and not old, carissima!" interrupted Drusus, +smiling at her self-depreciation. +</p> + +<p> +"We won't argue," said Fabia, in a bit lighter vein. "But—as +I would say—I believe in gods, and that they order all +things well." +</p> + +<p> +"Why, then," protested the young man, "do we suffer wrong +or grief? If gods there are, they are indifferent; or, far worse, +malevolent, who love to work us woe." +</p> + +<p> +Again Fabia shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +"If we were gods," said she, "we would all be wise, and +could see the good to come out of every seeming evil. There! +I am, as I said, silly and old, and little enough comfort can +words of mine bring a bright young man whose head is crammed +with all the learned lore of the schools of Athens. But know +this, Quintus, so long as I live, you shall live in my heart—living +or dead though you be. And believe me, the pleasure of +life is but a very little thing; it is sweet, but how quickly it +passes! And the curses or praises of men—these, too, only a +few mouldy rolls of books keep for decay! What profits it to +Miltiades this hour, that a few marks on a papyrus sheet ascribe +to him renown; or how much is the joy of Sextus Tarquinius +darkened because a group of other marks cast reproach upon +his name? If so be death is a sleep, how much better to feel +at the end, 'I die, but I die self-approved, and justified by +self!' And if death is not all a sleep; if, as Socrates tells us, +there are hopes that we but pass from a base life to another +with less of dross, then how do pleasures and glories, griefs +and dishonours, of this present life touch upon a man whose +happiness or woe will be found all within?" +</p> + +<p> +And so the good woman talked, giving to Drusus her own +pure faith and hope and courage; and when the intellectual +philosopher within him revolted at some of her simple premises +and guileless sophistries, against his will he was persuaded +by them, and was fain to own to himself that the heart +of a good woman is past finding out; that its impulses are more +genuine, its intuitions truer, its promptings surer, than all the +fine-spun intellectuality of the most subtle metaphysician. +When at last Drusus rose to leave his aunt, his face was glowing +with a healthy colour, his step was elastic, his voice resonant +with a noble courage. Fabia embraced him again and +again. "Remember, whatever befalls," were her parting words, +"I shall still love you." And when Drusus went out of the +house he saw the dignified figure of the Vestal gazing after +him. A few minutes later he passed no less a personage than +the consular Lucius Domitius on his way to some political +conference. He did not know what that dignitary muttered +as he swept past in spotless toga, but the gloomy ferocity of +his brow needed no interpreter. Drusus, however, never for +a moment gave himself disquietude. He was fortified for the +best and the worst, not by any dumb resignation, not by any +cant of philosophy, but by an inward monitor which told him +that some power in some way would lead him forth out of all +dangers in a manner whereof man could neither ask nor think. +</p> + + +<hr /> + +<p> +On the sixth of January the debate, as already said, drew +toward its end. All measures of conciliation had been voted +down; the crisis was close at hand. On the seventh, after his +interview with Fabia, Drusus went back to his own lodgings, +made a few revisions in his will, and in the presence of two or +three friends declared Cappadox manumitted,<a name="r143" href="#fn143">[143]</a> lest he, by some +chance, fall into the clutches of a brutal master. The young +man next wrote a long letter to Cornelia for Agias to forward +to Baiæ, and put in it such hope as he could glean from the +dark words of the philosophers; that even if destruction now +overtook him, death perhaps did not end all; that perhaps they +would meet beyond the grave. Then he took leave of his weeping +freedmen and slaves, and strolled out into the city, and +wandered about the Forum and the Sacred Way, to enjoy, perchance, +a last view of the sites that were to the Roman so dear. +Then finally he turned toward the Campus Martius, and was +strolling down under the long marble-paved colonnade of +the Portico of Pompeius. Lost in a deep reverie, he was forgetful +of all present events, until he was roused by a quick +twitch at the elbow; he looked around and found Agias before +him. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>A!</i> domine," cried the young Greek, "I have friends in +the house of Lentulus. I have just been told by them that +the consul has sworn that he will begin to play Sulla this very +day. Neither you, nor Antonius, Cassius, Curio, nor the +other supporters of Cæsar will be alive to-night. Do not +go into the Curia. Get away, quickly! Warn your friends, +and leave Rome, or to-night you will all be strangled in the +Tullianum!" +</p> + +<p> +The Tullianum! Drusus knew no other term to conjure up +a like abode of horrors—the ancient prison of the city, a mere +chamber sunk in the ground, and beneath that a dungeon, accessible +only by an opening in the floor above—where the luckless +Jugurtha had perished of cold and starvation, and where Lentulus +Sura, Cethegus, and the other lieutenants of Catilina had +been garroted, in defiance of all their legal rights, by the arbitrary +decree of a rancorous Senate! So at last the danger had +come! Drusus felt himself quiver at every fibre. He endured +a sensation the like of which he had never felt before—one of +utter moral faintness. But he steadied himself quickly. Shame +at his own recurring cowardice overmastered him. "I am an +unworthy Livian, indeed," he muttered, not perhaps realizing +that it is far more heroic consciously to confront and receive +the full terrors of a peril, and put them by, than to have them +harmlessly roll off on some self-acting mental armour. +</p> + +<p> +"Escape! There is yet time!" urged Agias, pulling his +toga. Drusus shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +"Not until the Senate has set aside the veto of the tribunes," +he replied quietly. +</p> + +<p> +"But the danger will then be imminent!" +</p> + +<p> +"A good soldier does not leave his post, my excellent Agias," +said the Roman, "until duty orders him away. Our duty is in +the Senate until we can by our presence and voice do no more. +When that task is over, we go to Cæsar as fast as horse may +bear us; but not until then." +</p> + +<p> +"Then I have warned you all in vain!" cried Agias. +</p> + +<p> +"Not at all. You may still be of the greatest service. +Arrange so that we can leave Rome the instant we quit the +Curia." +</p> + +<p> +"But if the lictors seize you before you get out of the +building?" +</p> + +<p> +"We can only take our chance. I think we shall be permitted +to go out. I had intended to ride out of the city this +evening if nothing hindered and the final vote had been +passed. But now I see that cannot be done. You have wit +and cunning, Agias. Scheme, provide. We must escape +from Rome at the earliest moment consistent with our duty +and honour." +</p> + +<p> +"I have it," said Agias, his face lighting up. "Come at +once after leaving the Curia, to the rear of the Temple of +Mars.<a name="r144" href="#fn144">[144]</a> I know one or two of the temple servants, and they +will give me the use of their rooms. There I will have ready +some slave dresses for a disguise, and just across the Æmilian +bridge I will have some fast horses waiting—that is, if you can +give me an order on your stables." +</p> + +<p> +Drusus took off his signet ring. +</p> + +<p> +"Show that to Pausanias. He will honour every request +you make, be it for a million sesterces." +</p> + +<p> +Agias bowed and was off. For the last time Drusus was +tempted to call him back and say that the flight would begin +at once. But the nimble Greek was already out of sight, and +heroism became a necessity. Drusus resolutely turned his +steps toward the senate-house. Not having been able to +forecast the immediate moves of the enemy, he had not arranged +for hurried flight; it was to be regretted, although he had +known that on that day the end of the crisis would come. +He soon met Antonius, and imparted to him what he had +just learned from Agias, and the precautions taken. +</p> + +<p> +Antonius shook his head, and remarked:— +</p> + +<p> +"You ought not to go with me. Little enough can we who +are tribunes do; you have neither voice nor vote, and Lentulus +is your personal foe. So back, before it is too late. Let +us shift for ourselves." +</p> + +<p> +Drusus replied never a word, but simply took the tribune's +arm and walked the faster toward the Curia. +</p> + +<p> +"I am a very young soldier," he said presently; "do not be +angry if I wish to show that I am not afraid of the whizzing +arrows." +</p> + +<p> +"Then, my friend, whatever befalls, so long as life is +in my body, remember you have a brother in Marcus +Antonius." +</p> + +<p> +The two friends pressed one another's hands, and entered +the Curia Pompeii. There in one of the foremost seats sat the +Magnus,<a name="r145" href="#fn145">[145]</a> the centre of a great flock of adulators, who were +basking in the sunshine of his favour. Yet Drusus, as he +glanced over at the Imperator, thought that the great man +looked harassed and worried—forced to be partner in a scheme +when he would cheerfully be absent. Fluttering in their broad +togas about the senate-house were Domitius, Cato, the Marcelli, +and Scipio, busy whipping into line the few remaining +waverers. As Cato passed the tribune's bench, and saw the +handful of Cæsarians gathered there, he cast a glance of indescribable +malignity upon them, a glance that made Drusus +shudder, and think again of the horrors of the Tullianum. +</p> + +<p> +"I know now how Cato looked," said he to Antonius, "when +he denounced the Catilinarians and urged that they should be +put to death without trial." +</p> + +<p> +Antonius shrugged his shoulders, and replied:— +</p> + +<p> +"Cato cannot forgive Cæsar. When Cæsar was consul, Cato +interrupted his speech, and Cæsar had him haled off to prison. +Marcus Cato never forgives or forgets." +</p> + +<p> +Curio, Cælius, and Quintus Cassius had entered the senate-house—the +only Cæsarians present besides Antonius and his +viator. The first two went and took their seats in the body of +the building, and Drusus noticed how their colleagues shrank +away from them, refusing to sit near the supporters of the +Gallic proconsul. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Eho!</i>" remarked Antonius, his spirits rising as the crisis +drew on. "This is much like Catilina's days, to be sure! No +one would sit with him when he went into the Senate. However, +I imagine that these excellent gentlemen will hardly find +Cæsar as easy to handle as Catilina." +</p> + +<p> +Again Lentulus was in his curule chair, and again the solemn +farce of taking the auspices, preparatory to commencing the +session, was gone through. +</p> + +<p> +Then for the last time in that memorable series of debates +Lentulus arose and addressed the Senate, storming, browbeating, +threatening, and finally ending with these words, that +brought everything to a head:— +</p> + +<p> +"Seeing then, Conscript Fathers, that Quintus Cassius and +Marcus Antonius are using their tribunician office to aid +Caius Cæsar to perpetuate his tyranny, the consuls ask you to +clothe the magistrates with dictatorial power in order that the +liberties of the Republic may not be subverted!" +</p> + +<p> +The liberties of the Republic! Liberty to plunder provinces! +To bribe! To rob the treasury! To defraud! To +violate the law of man and God! To rule the whole world so +that a corrupt oligarchy might be aggrandized! Far, far had +the nation of the older Claudii, Fabii, and Cornelii fallen from +that proud eminence when, a hundred years before, Polybius, +contrasting the Romans with the degenerate Greeks, had +exclaimed, "A statesman of Hellas, with ten checking clerks +and ten seals, ... cannot keep faith with a single talent; +Romans, in their magistracies and embassies, handle great +sums of money, and yet from pure respect of oath keep their +faith intact." +</p> + +<p> +But the words of selfish virulence and cant had been uttered, +and up from the body of the house swelled a shout of approval, +growing louder and louder every instant. +</p> + +<p> +Then up rose Domitius, on his face the leer of a brutal +triumph. +</p> + +<p> +"Conscript Fathers," he said, "I call for a vote on the question +of martial law. Have the Senate divide on the motion. +'Let the consuls, prætors, tribunes of the plebs, and men of +consular rank see to it that the Republic suffers no harm.'" +</p> + +<p> +Another shout of applause rolled along the seats, fiercer +and fiercer, and through it all a shower of curses and abusive +epithets upon the Cæsarians. All around Drusus seemed to be +tossing and bellowing the breakers of some vast ocean, an ocean +of human forms and faces, that was about to dash upon him +and overwhelm him, in mad fury irresistible. The din was +louder and louder. The bronze casings on the walls rattled, +the pediments and pavements seemed to vibrate; outside, the vast +mob swarming around the Curia reëchoed the shout. "Down +with Cæsar!" "Down with the tribunes!" "<i>Io!</i> Pompeius!" +</p> + +<p> +It was all as some wild distorted dream passing before Drusus's +eyes. He could not bring himself to conceive the scene +as otherwise. In a sort of stupor he saw the senators swarming +to the right of the building, hastening to cast their votes +in favour of Domitius's motion. Only two men—under a +storm of abuse and hootings, passed to the left and went on +record against the measure. These were Curio and Cælius; +and they stood for some moments alone on the deserted side of +the house, defiantly glaring at the raging Senate. Antonius +and Cassius contemptuously remained in their seats—for no +magistrate could vote in the Senate. +</p> + +<p> +It was done; it could not be undone. Not Cæsar, but the +Senate, had decreed the end of the glorious Republic. Already, +with hasty ostentation, some senators were stepping outside the +Curia, and returning clad no longer in the toga of peace, but in +a military cloak<a name="r146" href="#fn146">[146]</a> which a slave had been keeping close at hand +in readiness. Already Cato was on his feet glaring at the +Cæsarian tribunes, and demanding that first of all they be subjected +to punishment for persisting in their veto. The Senate +was getting more boisterous each minute. A tumult was like +to break out, in which some deed of violence would be committed, +which would give the key-note to the whole sanguinary +struggle impending. Yet in the face of the raging tempest +Marcus Antonius arose and confronted the assembly. It +raged, hooted, howled, cursed. He still remained standing. +Cato tried to continue his invective. The tempest that he had +done so much to raise drowned his own voice, and he relapsed +into his seat. But still Antonius stood his ground, quietly, +with no attempt to shout down the raging Senate, as +steadfastly as though a thousand threats were not buzzing +around his ears. Drusus's heart went with his friend that +instant. He had never been in a battle, yet he realized +that it was vastly more heroic to stand undaunted before +this audience, than to walk into the bloodiest mêlée without +a tremor. +</p> + +<p> +Then of a sudden, like the interval between the recession of +one wave and the advance of a second billow, came a moment +of silence; and into that silence Antonius broke, with a voice +so strong, so piercing, so resonant, that the most envenomed +oligarch checked his clamour to give ear. +</p> + +<p> +"Hearken, ye senators of the Republic, ye false <i>patres</i>, +ye fathers of the people who are no fathers! So far have we +waited; we wait no more! So much have we seen; we'll see +no further! So much have we endured,—reproaches, repulses, +deceits, insult, outrage, yes, for I see it in the consul's eye, +next do we suffer violence itself; but that we will not tamely +suffer. Ay! drive us from our seats, as Marcus Cato bids you! +Ay! strike our names from the Senate list, as Domitius will +propose! Ay! hound your lictors, sir consul, after us, to lay +their rods across our backs! Ay! enforce your decree proclaiming +martial law! So have you acted before to give legal +fiction to your tyranny! But tell me this, senators, prætorii, +consulars, and consuls, where will this mad violence of yours +find end? Tiberius Gracchus you have murdered. Caius Gracchus +you have murdered. Marcus Drusus you have murdered. +Ten thousand good men has your creature Sulla murdered. +Without trial, without defence, were the friends of Catilina +murdered. And now will ye add one more deed of blood to +those going before? Will ye strike down an inviolate tribune, +in Rome,—in the shadow of the very Curia? Ah! days of the +Decemvirs, when an evil Ten ruled over the state—would that +those days might return! Not ten tyrants but a thousand oppress +us now! Then despotism wore no cloak of patriotism +or legal right, but walked unmasked in all its blackness! +</p> + +<p> +"Hearken, ye senators, and in the evil days to come, remember +all I say. Out of the seed which ye sow this hour come +wars, civil wars; Roman against Roman, kinsman against +kinsman, brother against brother! There comes impiety, +violence, cruelty, bloodshed, anarchy! There comes the destruction +of the old; there comes the birth, amid pain and +anguish, of the new! Ye who grasp at money, at power, at +high office; who trample on truth and right to serve your selfish +ends; false, degenerate Romans,—one thing can wipe +away your crimes—" +</p> + +<p> +"What?" shouted Cato, across the senate-house; while +Pompeius, who was shifting uncomfortably in his seat, had +turned very red. +</p> + +<p> +"Blood!" cried back Antonius, carried away by the frenzy +of his own invective; then, shooting a lightning glance over +the awe-struck Senate, he spoke as though gifted with some +terrible prophetic omniscience. "Pompeius Magnus, the day +of your prosperity is past—prepare ingloriously to die! +Lentulus Crus, you, too, shall pay the forfeit of your crimes! +Metellus Scipio, Marcus Cato, Lucius Domitius, within five +years shall you all be dead—dead and with infamy upon your +names! Your blood, your blood shall wipe away your folly and +your lust for power. Ye stay, we go. Ye stay to pass once +more unvetoed the decree declaring Cæsar and his friends +enemies of the Republic; we go—go to endure our outlaw +state. But we go to appeal from the unjust scales of your +false Justice to the juster sword of an impartial Mars, and +may the Furies that haunt the lives of tyrants and +shedders of innocent blood attend you—attend your persons +so long as ye are doomed to live, and your memory +so long as men shall have power to heap on your names +reproach!" +</p> + +<p> +Drusus hardly knew that Antonius had so much as stopped, +when he found his friend leading him out of the Curia. +</p> + +<p> +Behind, all was still as they walked away toward the Temple +of Mars. Then, as they proceeded a little distance, a great +roar as of a distant storm-wind drifted out from the senate-house—so +long had Antonius held his audience spellbound. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Finitum est!</i>" said Curio, his eyes cast on the ground. +"We have seen, my friends, the last day of the Republic." +</p> + + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p> +Behind the Temple of Mars the faithful Agias was ready +with the slaves' dresses which were to serve as a simple disguise. +Antonius and his companions tossed off their cumbrous +togas and put on the dark, coarse cloaks and slippers +which were worn by slaves and people of the lower classes. +These changes were quickly made, but valuable time was +wasted while Antonius—who, as a bit of a dandy, wore his +hair rather long<a name="r147" href="#fn147">[147]</a>—underwent a few touches with the shears. +It was now necessary to get across the Tiber without being +recognized, and once fairly out of Rome the chances of a successful +pursuit were not many. On leaving the friendly shelter +of the Temple buildings, nothing untoward was to be seen. The +crowds rushing to and fro, from the Curia and back, were too +busy and excited to pay attention to a little group of slaves, +who carefully kept from intruding themselves into notice. +Occasionally the roar and echo of applause and shouting came +from the now distant Curia, indicating that the Senate was still +at its unholy work of voting wars and destructions. A short +walk would bring them across the Pons Æmilius, and there, +in the shelter of one of the groves of the new public gardens +which Cæsar had just been laying out on Janiculum, were waiting +several of the fastest mounts which the activity of Agias and +the lavish expenditures of Pausanias had been able to procure. +</p> + +<p> +The friends breathed more easily. +</p> + +<p> +"I hardly think," said Quintus Cassius, "we shall be +molested. The consuls cannot carry their mad hate so far." +</p> + +<p> +They were close to the bridge. The way was lined with tall +warehouses and grain storehouses,<a name="r148" href="#fn148">[148]</a> the precursors of the modern +"elevators." They could see the tawny Tiber water flashing +between the stone arches of the bridge. The swarms of peasants +and countrymen driving herds of lowing kine and bleating sheep +toward the adjacent Forum Boarium seemed unsuspicious and +inoffensive. A moment more and all Drusus's tremors and +anxieties would have passed as harmless fantasy. +</p> + +<p> +Their feet were on the bridge. They could notice the wind +sweeping through the tall cypresses in the gardens where +waited the steeds that were to take them to safety. The +friends quickened their pace. A cloud had drifted across the +sun; there was a moment's gloom. When the light danced +back, Drusus caught Curio's arm with a start. +</p> + +<p> +"Look!" The new sunbeams had glanced on the polished +helmet of a soldier standing guard at the farther end of the +bridge. +</p> + +<p> +There was only an instant for hesitation. +</p> + +<p> +"Lentulus has foreseen that we must try to escape by this +way," said Curio, seriously, but without panic. "We must go +back at once, and try to cross by the wooden bridge below or by +some other means." +</p> + +<p> +But a great herd of dirty silver-grey Etruscan cattle came +over the causeway, and to get ahead of them would have been +impracticable without attracting the most unusual attention. It +was now evident enough that there was a considerable guard at +the head of the bridge, and to make a rush and overpower it was +impossible. The heavy-uddered cows and snorting, bellowing +bulls dragged by with a slow plodding that almost drove Drusus +frantic. They were over at last, and the friends hastened after +them, far more anxious to leave the bridge than they had been +an instant before to set foot upon it. On they pressed, until +as if by magic there stood across their path the twelve lictors +of one of the consuls, with upraised fasces. Behind the lictors +was a half-century of soldiers in full armour led by their <i>optio</i>.<a name="r149" href="#fn149">[149]</a> +</p> + +<p> +"Sirs," announced the head lictor, "I am commanded by +the consul, Lucius Lentulus Crus, to put you all under arrest +for treason against the Republic. Spare yourselves the indignity +of personal violence, by offering no resistance." +</p> + +<p> +To resist would indeed have been suicide. The friends had +worn their short swords under their cloaks, but counting Agias +they were only six, and the lictors were twelve, to say nothing +of the soldiers, of whom there were thirty or more. +</p> + +<p> +The ground seemed swaying before Drusus's eyes; in his ears +was a buzzing; his thoughts came to him, thick, confused, yet +through them all ran the vision of Cornelia, and the conviction +that he was never to see her again. He looked back. The +soldiers at the head of the bridge had taken alarm and were +marching down to complete the arrest. He looked before. The +lictors, the troops, the stupid cattle and their stolid drivers, +and the great black-sided warehouses, casting their gloomy +shadow over the rippling river. Down stream; not a skiff +seemed stirring. The water was plashing, dancing, glancing +in the sunshine. Below the wooden bridge the spars of a huge +merchantman were just covering with canvas, as she stood +away from her quay. Up stream (the views were all compressed +into the veriest moment)—with the current came working, or +rather drifting, a heavy barge loaded with timber. Only two +men, handling rude paddles, stood upon her deck. The barge +was about to pass under the very arch upon which stood the +handful of entrapped Cæsarians. A word, a motion, and the +last hope of escape would have been comprehended by the enemy, +and all would have been lost. But in moments of extreme peril +it is easy to make a glance full of pregnancy. Antonius saw +the face of his friend—saw and understood; and the other seemingly +doomed men understood likewise. In an instant the +barge would pass under the bridge! +</p> + +<p> +"Fellow," replied Antonius (the whole inspection of the situation, +formation of the plot, and visual dialogue had really been +so rapid as to make no long break after the lictor ceased speaking), +"do you dare thus to do what even the most profane and +impious have never dared before? Will you lay hands on two +inviolate tribunes of the plebs, and those under their personal +protection; and by your very act become a <i>sacer</i>—an outlaw +devoted to the gods, whom it is a pious thing for any man to +slay?" +</p> + +<p> +"I have my orders, sir," replied the head lictor, menacingly. +"And I would have you know that neither you nor Quintus +Cassius are reckoned tribunes longer by the Senate; so by no +such plea can you escape arrest." +</p> + +<p> +"Tribunes no longer!" cried Antonius; "has tyranny progressed +so far that no magistrate can hold office after he ceases +to humour the consuls?" +</p> + +<p> +"We waste time, sir," said the lictor, sternly. "Forward, +men; seize and bind them!" +</p> + +<p> +But Antonius's brief parley had done its work. As the bow +of the barge shot under the bridge, Curio, with a single bound +over the parapet, sprang on to its deck; after him leaped Quintus +Cassius, and after him Cælius. Before Drusus could follow, +however, the stern of the barge had vanished under the archway. +The lictors and soldiers had sprung forward, but a second +had been lost by rushing to the eastern side of the bridge, +where the barge had just disappeared from sight. Agias, Antonius, +and Drusus were already standing on the western parapet. +The lictors and soldiers were on them in an instant. The blow +of one of the fasces smote down Antonius, but he fell directly +into the vessel beneath—stunned but safe. A soldier caught +Agias by the leg to drag him down. Drusus smote the man +under the ear so that he fell without a groan; but Agias himself +had been thrown from the parapet on to the bridge; the soldiers +were thronging around. Drusus saw the naked steel of +their swords flashing before his eyes; he knew that the barge +was slipping away in the current. It was a time of seconds, +but of seconds expanded for him into eternities. With one +arm he dashed back a lictor, with the other cast Agias—he +never knew whence came that strength which enabled him to +do the feat—over the stonework, and into the arms of Curio +in the receding boat. Then he himself leaped. A rude hand +caught his cloak. It was torn from his back. A sword +whisked past his head—he never learned how closely. He +was in the air, saw that the barge was getting away, and +next he was chilled by a sudden dash of water and Cælius was +dragging him aboard; he had landed under the very stern of +the barge. Struggling in the water, weighed down by their +armour, were several soldiers who had leaped after him and +had missed their distance completely. +</p> + +<p> +The young man clambered on to the rude vessel. Its crew +(two simple, harmless peasants) were cowering among the +lumber. Curio had seized one of the paddles and was guiding +the craft out into the middle of the current; for the soldiers +were already running along the wharves and preparing to fling +their darts. The other men, who had just been plucked out +of the jaws of destruction, were all engaged in collecting their +more or less scattered wits and trying to discover the next turn +of calamity in store. Antonius—who, despite his fall, had +come down upon a coil of rope and so escaped broken bones and +serious bruises—was the first to sense the great peril of even +their present situation. +</p> + +<p> +"In a few moments," he remarked, casting a glance down +the river, "we shall be under the Pons Sublicius, and we shall +either be easily stopped and taken, or crushed with darts as +we pass by. You see they are already signalling from the +upper bridge to their guard at the lower. We shall drift down +into their hands, and gain nothing by our first escape." +</p> + +<p> +"Anchor," suggested Cassius, who was an impulsive and +rather inconsiderate man. And he prepared to pitch overboard +the heavy mooring-stone. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Phui!</i> You sheep," cried Curio, contemptuously, mincing +no words at that dread moment. "How long will it be before +there will be ten boatloads of soldiers alongside? Can we beat +off all Pompeius's legions?" +</p> + +<p> +Antonius caught up another paddle and passed it through a +rower's thong. +</p> + +<p> +"Friends," he said, with that ready command which his military +life had given him, "these soldiers are in armour and can +run none too swiftly. Once show them the back, and they must +throw away their arms or give over the chase. It is madness +to drift down upon the lower bridge. We must turn across +the river, risk the darts, and try to land on the farther bank. +Take oars!" +</p> + +<p> +There was but one remaining paddle. Drusus seized it and +pushed against the water with so much force that the tough +wood bent and creaked, but did not snap. The unwieldy barge +sluggishly answered this powerful pressure, and under the +stroke of the three oars began to head diagonally across the +current and move slowly toward the farther shore. The soldiers +did not at once perceive the intent of this move. By +their actions they showed that they had expected the barge to +try to slip through the Pons Sublicius, and so escape down the +river. They had run some little way along the south bank +of the Tiber, to reënforce their comrades at the lower bridge, +when they saw the new course taken by their expected prey. +Much valuable time had thus been gained by the pursued, +time which they needed sadly enough, for, despite their frantic +rowing, their unwieldy craft would barely crawl across +the current. +</p> + +<p> +Long before the barge was within landing distance of the +northern bank, the soldiers who had been on guard at the +head of the Pons Æmilius had regained their former station, +and were running along the shore to cut off any attempt there +to escape. Soon a whizzing javelin dug into the plank at +Drusus's feet, and a second rushed over Cælius's head, and +plashed into the water beyond the barge. Other soldiers on +the now receding southern bank were piling into a light skiff +to second their comrades' efforts by a direct attack on the +fugitives. +</p> + +<p> +A third dart grazed Antonius's hair and buried its head in +the pile of lumber. The tribune handed his oar to Cælius, and, +deliberately wresting the weapon from the timber, flung it back +with so deadly an aim that one pursuing legionary went down, +pierced through the breastplate. The others recoiled for an +instant, and no more javelins were thrown, which was some +slight gain for the pursued. +</p> + +<p> +It seemed, however, that the contest could have only a single +ending. The soldiers were running parallel and apace with +the barge, which was now as close to the northern bank as was +safe in view of the missiles. The Pons Sublicius was getting +minute by minute nearer, and upon it could be seen a considerable +body of troops ready with darts and grapnels to cut off the +last hope of escape. +</p> + +<p> +But Antonius never withdrew his eye from the line of dark +weatherbeaten warehouses that stretched down to the river's +edge on the north bank just above the Pons Sublicius. +</p> + +<p> +"Row," he exhorted his companions, "row! as life is dear! +Row as never before!" +</p> + +<p> +And under the combined impulse of the three desperate men, +even the heavy barge leaped forward and a little eddy of foaming +waves began to trail behind her stern. Drusus had no time +to ask of himself or Antonius the special object of this last burst +of speed. He only knew that he was flinging every pound of +strength into the heavy handle of his oar, and that his life +depended on making the broad blade push back the water as +rapidly as possible. Antonius, however, had had good cause for +his command. A searching scrutiny had revealed to him that +a single very long warehouse ran clear down to the river's edge, +and so made it impossible to continue running along the bank. +A pursuer must double around the whole length of the building +before continuing the chase of the barge. And for a small +quay just beyond this warehouse Antonius headed his clumsy +vessel. The soldiers continued their chase up to the very walls +of the warehouse, where they, of a sudden, found themselves +stopped by an impenetrable barrier. They lost an instant of +valuable time in trying to wade along the bank, where the +channel shelved off rapidly, and, finding the attempt useless, +dashed a volley of their missiles after the barge. But the range +was very long. Few reached the vessel; none did damage. +The soldiers disappeared behind the warehouse, still running +at a headlong pace. Before they reappeared on the other side, +Antonius had brought his craft to the quay. There was no time +for mooring, and the instant the barge lost way the hard-pressed +Cæsarians were on shore. Another instant, and the clumsy +vessel had been caught by the current, and swung out into the +stream. +</p> + +<p> +She had done her work. The pursued men broke into a dash +for the nearest highway. The soldiers were close after them. +But they had flung away their javelins, and what with their +heavy armour and the fatigue of running were quite as exhausted +as the Cæsarians, three of whom had been thoroughly winded +by their desperate rowing. On the Pons Sublicius, where a +great crowd had gathered to watch the exciting chase, there was +shouting and tumult. No doubt voices few enough would have +been raised for the Cæsarians if they had been captured; but +now that they bade fair to escape, the air was thick with gibes +at the soldiers, and cries of encouragement to the pursued. On +the two parties ran. Soon they were plunged in the tortuous, +dirty lanes of the "Trans-Tiber" district, rushing at frantic +speed past the shops of dirty Jews and the taverns of noisy +fishermen and sailors. Already news of the chase had gone +before them, and, as Drusus followed his friends under the +half-arching shadows of the tall tenement houses, drunken +pedlers and ribald women howled out their wishes of success, +precisely as though they were in a race-course. Now the dirty +streets were left behind and the fatigued runners panted up the +slopes of the Janiculum, toward the gardens of Cæsar. They +passed the little grove sacred to the Furies, and, even as for life +he ran, Drusus recalled with shame how over this very road +to this very grove, had fled Caius Gracchus, the great tribune +of the people, whom Drusus's own great grandfather, Marcus +Livius Drusus, had hounded to his death; that day when all +men encouraged him as he ran, but none would raise a hand +to aid. +</p> + +<p> +But now up from the bridge came the thunder of horses' +hoofs,—cavalry, tearing at a furious gallop. Pompeius had +evidently ordered out a <i>turma</i><a name="r150" href="#fn150">[150]</a> of mounted men to chase down +the runaways. More and more frantic the race—Drusus's +tongue hung from his mouth like a dog's. He flew past a +running fountain, and was just desperate enough to wonder if +it was safe to stop one instant and touch—he would not ask +to drink—one drop of the cool water. Fortunately the Cæsarians +were all active young men, of about equal physical powers, +and they kept well together and encouraged one another, not +by word—they had no breath for that—but by interchange +of courage and sympathy from eye to eye. The heavy legionaries +had given up the chase; it was the cavalry, now flying +almost at their very heels, that urged them to their final burst +of speed. +</p> + +<p> +At last! Here were the gardens of Cæsar, and close by the +roadway under a spreading oak, their grooms holding them in +readiness for instant service, were six of the best specimens +of horseflesh money could command. +</p> + +<p> +None of the little party had breath left to speak a word. To +fling themselves into the saddles, to snatch the reins from the +attendants' hands, to plunge the heels of their sandals, in lieu +of spurs, into the flanks of their already restless steeds,—these +things were done in an instant, but none too soon. For, almost +as the six riders turned out upon the road to give head to their +horses, the cavalry were upon them. The foremost rider sent +his lance over Curio's shoulder, grazing the skin and starting +blood; a second struck with his short sword at Cælius's steed, +but the horse shied, and before the blow could be repeated the +frightened beast had taken a great bound ahead and out of +danger. This exciting phase of the pursuit, however, was of +only momentary duration. The horses of the Cæsarians were +so incomparably superior to the common army hacks of the +soldiers, that, as soon as the noble blooded animals began to +stretch their long limbs on the hard Roman road, the troopers +dropped back to a harmless distance in the rear. The cavalrymen's +horses, furthermore, had been thoroughly winded by the +fierce gallop over the bridge, and now it was out of the question +for them to pursue. Before the flight had continued a mile, +the Cæsarians had the satisfaction of seeing their enemies draw +rein, then turn back to the city. The friends, however, did not +check their pace until, safe beyond chance of overtaking, they +reined in at an hospitable tavern in the old Etruscan town of +Veii. +</p> + +<p> +Here Drusus took leave of Agias. +</p> + +<p> +"You are quite too unimportant an enemy," said he to the +young Greek, "to be worth arrest by the consuls, if indeed +they know what part you have had in our escape. I know not +what perils are before me, and I have no right to ask you to +share them. You have long ago paid off any debt of gratitude +that you owed me and mine when Fabia saved your life. I am +your patron no longer; go, and live honourably, and you will +find deposited with Flaccus a sum that will provide for all your +needs. If ever I return to Rome, my party victorious, myself +in favour, then let us renew our friendship; but till then you +and I meet no more." +</p> + +<p> +Agias knelt and kissed Drusus's robe in a semi-Oriental +obeisance. +</p> + +<p> +"And is there nothing," he asked half wistfully at the parting, +"that I can yet do for you?" +</p> + +<p> +"Nothing," said Drusus, "except to see that no harm come +to my Aunt Fabia, and if it be possible deliver Cornelia from +the clutches of her bloody uncle." +</p> + +<p> +"Ah!" said Agias, smiling, "that is indeed <i>something</i>! But +be not troubled, domine,"—he spoke as if Drusus was still +his master,—"I will find a way." +</p> + +<p> +That evening, under the canopy of night, the five Cæsarians +sped, swift as their horses could bear them, on their way to +Ravenna. +</p> + + + + + +<h2 id="ch16">CHAPTER XVI</h2> + +<h2>THE RUBICON</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p> +It was growing late, but the proconsul apparently was manifesting +no impatience. All the afternoon he had been transacting +the routine business of a provincial governor—listening +to appeals to his judgment seat, signing requisitions for tax +imposts, making out commissions, and giving undivided attention +to a multitude of seeming trifles. Only Decimus Mamercus, +the young centurion,—elder son of the veteran of Præneste,—who +stood guard at the doorway of the public office of the prætorium, +thought he could observe a hidden nervousness and a +still more concealed petulance in his superior's manner that betokened +anxiety and a desire to be done with the routine of the +day. Finally the last litigant departed, the governor descended +from the curule chair, the guard saluted as he passed out to his +own private rooms, and soon, as the autumn darkness began to +steal over the cantonment, nothing but the call of the sentries +broke the calm of the advancing night. +</p> + +<p> +Cæsar was submitting to the attentions of his slaves, who +were exchanging his robes of state for the comfortable evening +<i>synthesis</i>. But the proconsul was in no mood for the publicity +of the evening banquet. When his chief freedman announced +that the invited guests had assembled, the master bade him go +to the company and inform them that their host was indisposed, +and wished them to make merry without him. The evening +advanced. Twice Cæsar touched to his lips a cup of spiced +wine, but partook of nothing else. Sending his servants from +his chamber, he alternately read, and wrote nervously on his +tablets, then erased all that he had inscribed, and paced up +and down the room. Presently the anxious head-freedman +thrust his head into the apartment. +</p> + +<p> +"My lord, it is past midnight. The guests have long +departed. There will be serious injury done your health, if +you take no food and rest." +</p> + +<p> +"My good Antiochus," replied the proconsul, "you are a +faithful friend." +</p> + +<p> +The freedman—an elderly, half-Hellenized Asiatic—knelt +and kissed the Roman's robe. +</p> + +<p> +"My lord knows that I would die for him." +</p> + +<p> +"I believe you, Antiochus. The gods know I never needed +a friend more than now! Do not leave the room." +</p> + +<p> +The general's eyes were glittering, his cheeks flushed with +an unhealthy colour. The freedman was startled. +</p> + +<p> +"Domine, domine!" he began, "you are not well—let me +send for Calchas, the physician; a mild sleeping powder—" +</p> + +<p> +For the first time in his long service of Cæsar, Antiochus +met with a burst of wrath from his master. +</p> + +<p> +"Vagabond! Do you think a sleeping potion will give peace +to <i>me</i>? Speak again of Calchas, and I'll have you crucified!" +</p> + +<p> +"Domine, domine!" cried the trembling freedman; but +Cæsar swept on:— +</p> + +<p> +"Don't go from the room! I am desperate to-night. I may +lay violent hands on myself. Why should I not ask you for a +poisoned dagger?" +</p> + +<p> +Antiochus cowered at his master's feet. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, why not? What have I to gain by living? I have +won some little fame. I have conquered all Gaul. I have invaded +Britain. I have made the Germans tremble. Life is +an evil dream, a nightmare, a frightful delusion. Death is +real. Sleep—sleep—forever sleep! No care, no ambition, +no vexation, no anger, no sorrow. Cornelia, the wife of my +love, is asleep. Julia is asleep. All that I loved sleep. Why +not I also?" +</p> + +<p> +"Domine, speak not so!" and Antiochus clasped the proconsul's +knees. +</p> + +<p> +Cæsar bent down and lifted him up by the hand. When he +spoke again, the tone was entirely changed. +</p> + +<p> +"Old friend, you have known me; have loved me. You +were my <i>pedagogue</i><a name="r151" href="#fn151">[151]</a> when I went to school at Rome. You +taught me to ride and fence and wrestle. You aided me to +escape the myrmidons of Sulla. You were with me in Greece. +You shared my joy in my political successes, my triumphs in +the field. And now what am I to do? You know the last +advices from Rome; you know the determination of the consuls +to work my ruin. To-day no news has come at all, and +for us no news is the worst of news." +</p> + +<p> +"Domine," said Antiochus, wiping his eyes, "I cannot +dream that the Senate and Pompeius will deny you your right +to the second consulship." +</p> + +<p> +"But if they do? You know what Curio reports. What +then?" +</p> + +<p> +Antiochus shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +"It would mean war, bloody war, the upturning of the whole +world!" +</p> + +<p> +"War, or—" and Cæsar paused. +</p> + +<p> +"What, my lord?" said the freedman. +</p> + +<p> +"I cease either to be a care to myself or my enemies." +</p> + +<p> +"I do not understand you, domine," ventured Antiochus, +turning pale. +</p> + +<p> +"I mean, good friend," said the proconsul, calmly, "that +when I consider how little life often seems worth, and how +much disaster the continuance of my act of living means to +my fellow-men, I feel often that I have no right to live." +</p> + +<p> +Antiochus staggered with dread. Cæsar was no longer talking +wildly; and the freedman knew that when in a calm mood +the proconsul was always perfectly serious. +</p> + +<p> +"Domine, you have not rashly determined this?" he hinted. +</p> + +<p> +"I have determined nothing. I never rashly determine +anything. Hark! Some one is at the door." +</p> + +<p> +There was a loud military knock, and the clang of armour. +</p> + +<p> +"Enter," commanded Cæsar. +</p> + +<p> +Decimus Mamercus hastened into the room. So great was +his excitement that his Roman discipline had forsaken him. +He neglected to salute. +</p> + +<p> +"News! news! Imperator! from Rome! News which will +set all Italy afire!" +</p> + +<p> +Whereupon the man who had but just before been talking +of suicide, with the greatest possible deliberation seated himself +on a comfortable chair, arranged his dress, and remarked +with perfect coldness:— +</p> + +<p> +"No tidings can justify a soldier in neglecting to salute his +general." +</p> + +<p> +Decimus turned red with mortification, and saluted. +</p> + +<p> +"Now," said Cæsar, icily, "what have you to report?" +</p> + +<p> +"Imperator," replied Decimus, trying to speak with unimpassioned +preciseness, "a messenger has just arrived from Rome. +He reports that the Senate and consuls have declared the +Republic in peril, that the veto of your tribunes has been over-ridden, +and they themselves forced to flee for their lives." +</p> + +<p> +Cæsar had carelessly dropped a writing tablet that he was +holding, and now he stooped slowly and picked it up again. +</p> + +<p> +"The messenger is here?" he inquired, after a pause. +</p> + +<p> +"He is," replied the centurion. +</p> + +<p> +"Has he been duly refreshed after a hard ride?" was the next +question. +</p> + +<p> +"He has just come." +</p> + +<p> +"Then let him have the best food and drink my butler and +cellarer can set before him." +</p> + +<p> +"But his news is of extreme importance," gasped Decimus, +only half believing his ears. +</p> + +<p> +"I have spoken," said the general, sternly. "What is his +name?" +</p> + +<p> +"He is called Quintus Drusus, Imperator." +</p> + +<p> +"Ah!" was his deliberate response, "send him to me when +he will eat and drink no more." +</p> + +<p> +Decimus saluted again, and withdrew, while his superior +opened the roll in his hands, and with all apparent fixity and +interest studied at the precepts and definitions of the grammar +of Dionysius Thrax, the noted philologist. +</p> + +<p> +At the end of some minutes Quintus Drusus stood before +him. +</p> + +<p> +The young Prænestian was covered with dust, was unkempt, +ragged; his step was heavy, his arms hung wearily at his side, +his head almost drooped on his breast with exhaustion. But +when he came into the Imperator's presence, he straightened +himself and tried to make a gesture of salutation. Cæsar had +risen from his chair. +</p> + +<p> +"Fools!" he cried, to the little group of slaves and soldiers, +who were crowding into the room, "do you bring me this +worn-out man, who needs rest? Who dared this? Has he +been refreshed as I commanded?" +</p> + +<p> +"He would take nothing but some wine—" began Decimus. +</p> + +<p> +"I would have waited until morning, if necessary, before +seeing him. Here!" and while Cæsar spoke he half led, +half thrust, the messenger into his own chair, and, anticipating +the nimblest slave, unclasped the travel-soiled pænula from +Drusus's shoulders. The young man tried to rise and shake +off these ministrations, but the proconsul gently restrained +him. A single look sufficed to send all the curious retinue +from the room. Only Antiochus remained, sitting on a stool +in a distant corner. +</p> + +<p> +"And now, my friend," said Cæsar, smiling, and drawing a +chair close up to that of Drusus, "tell me when it was that +you left Rome." +</p> + +<p> +"Two days ago," gasped the wearied messenger. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Mehercle!</i>" cried the general, "a hundred and sixty miles +in two days! This is incredible! And you come alone?" +</p> + +<p> +"I had Andræmon, the fastest horse in Rome. Antonius, +Cælius, Cassius, Curio, and myself kept together as far as +Clusium. There was no longer any danger of pursuit, no +need for more than one to hasten." Drusus's sentences were +coming in hot pants. "I rode ahead. Rode my horse dead. +Took another at Arretium. And so I kept changing. And +now—I am here." And with this last utterance he stopped, +gasping. +</p> + +<p> +Cæsar, instead of demanding the tidings from Rome, turned +to Antiochus, and bade him bring a basin and perfumed water +to wash Drusus's feet. Meantime the young man had recovered +his breath. +</p> + +<p> +"You have heard of the violence of the new consuls and how +Antonius and Cassius withstood them. On the seventh the +end came. The vetoes were set aside. Our protests were disregarded. +The Senate has clothed the consuls and other +magistrates with dictatorial power; they are about to make +Lucius Domitius proconsul of Gaul." +</p> + +<p> +"And I?" asked Cæsar, for the first time displaying any +personal interest. +</p> + +<p> +"You, Imperator, must disband your army and return to +Rome speedily, or be declared an outlaw, as Sertorius or Catilina +was." +</p> + +<p> +"Ah!" and for a minute the proconsul sat motionless, while +Drusus again kept silence. +</p> + +<p> +"But you—my friends—the tribunes?" demanded the general, +"you spoke of danger; why was it that you fled?" +</p> + +<p> +"We fled in slaves' dresses, O Cæsar, because otherwise we +should long ago have been strangled like bandits in the Tullianum. +Lentulus Crus drove us with threats from the Senate. +On the bridge, but for the favour of the gods, his lictors would +have taken us. We were chased by Pompeius's foot soldiers as +far as Janiculum. We ran away from his cavalry. If they +hate us, your humble friends, so bitterly, how much the more +must they hate you!" +</p> + +<p> +"And the tribunes, and Curio, and Cælius are on their way +hither?" asked Cæsar. +</p> + +<p> +"They will be here very soon." +</p> + +<p> +"That is well," replied the proconsul; then, with a totally +unexpected turn, "Quintus Drusus, what do you advise me +to do?" +</p> + +<p> +"I—I advise, Imperator?" stammered the young man. +</p> + +<p> +"And who should advise, if not he who has ridden so hard +and fast in my service? Tell me, is there any hope of +peace, of reconciliation with Pompeius?" +</p> + +<p> +"None." +</p> + +<p> +"Any chance that the senators will recover their senses, and +propose a reasonable compromise?" +</p> + +<p> +"None." +</p> + +<p> +"Will not Cicero use his eloquence in the cause of peace and +common justice?" +</p> + +<p> +"I have seen him. He dare not open his mouth." +</p> + +<p> +"Ah!" and again Cæsar was silent, this time with a smile, +perhaps of scorn, playing around his mouth. +</p> + +<p> +"Are the people, the equites, given body and soul over to +the war party?" +</p> + +<p> +Drusus nodded sadly. "So long as the consuls are in the +ascendant, they need fear no revolution at home. The people +are not at heart your enemies, Imperator; but they will wait +to be led by the winning side." +</p> + +<p> +"And you advise?"—pressed Cæsar, returning to the charge. +</p> + +<p> +"War!" replied Drusus, with all the rash emphasis of youth. +</p> + +<p> +"Young man," said Cæsar, gravely, half sadly, "what you +have said is easy to utter. Do you know what war will mean?" +</p> + +<p> +Drusus was silent. +</p> + +<p> +"Let us grant that our cause is most just. Even then, if we +fight, we destroy the Republic. If I conquer, it must be over +the wreck of the Commonwealth. If Pompeius—on the same +terms. I dare not harbour any illusions. The state cannot +endure the farce of another Sullian restoration and reformation. +A permanent government by one strong man will be the only +one practicable to save the world from anarchy. Have you +realized that?" +</p> + +<p> +"I only know, Imperator," said Drusus, gloomily, "that no +future state can be worse than ours to-day, when the magistrates +of the Republic are the most grievous despots." +</p> + +<p> +Cæsar shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +"You magnify your own wrongs and mine. If mere revenge +prompts us, we are worse than Xerxes, or Sulla. The gods +alone can tell us what is right." +</p> + +<p> +"The gods!" cried Drusus, half sunken though he was in a +weary lethargy, "do you believe there are any gods?" +</p> + +<p> +Cæsar threw back his head. "Not always; but at moments +I do not <i>believe</i> in them, I <i>know</i>! And now I <i>know</i> that gods +are guiding us!" +</p> + +<p> +"Whither?" exclaimed the young man, starting from his +weary drowsiness. +</p> + +<p> +"I know not whither; neither do I care. Enough to be conscious +that they guide us!" +</p> + +<p> +And then, as though there was no pressing problem involving +the peace of the civilized world weighing upon him, the proconsul +stood by in kind attention while Antiochus and an +attendant bathed the wearied messenger's feet before taking +him away to rest. +</p> + +<p> +After Drusus had been carried to his room, Cæsar collected +the manuscripts and tablets scattered about the apartment, +methodically placed them in the proper cases and presses, suffered +himself to be undressed, and slept late into the following +morning, as sweetly and soundly as a little child. +</p> + + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p> +On the next day Cæsar called before him the thirteenth +legion,—the only force he had at Ravenna,—and from a +pulpit in front of the prætorium he told them the story of +what had happened at Rome; of how the Senate had outraged +the tribunes of the plebs, whom even the violent Sulla had +respected; of how the mighty oligarchy had outraged every +soldier in insulting their commander. Then Curio, just arrived, +declaimed with indignant fervour of the violence and fury of +the consuls and Pompeius; and when he concluded, the veterans +could restrain their ardour and devotion no more, five +thousand martial throats roared forth an oath of fealty, and +as many swords were waved on high in mad defiance to the +Senate and the Magnus. Then cohort after cohort cried out +that on this campaign they would accept no pay; and the military +tribunes and centurions pledged themselves, this officer +for the support of two recruits, and that for three. +</p> + +<p> +It was a great personal triumph for Cæsar. He stood receiving +the pledges and plaudits, and repaying each protestation of +loyalty with a few gracious words, or smiles, that were worth +fifty talents to each acclaiming maniple. Drusus, who was +standing back of the proconsul, beside Curio, realized that +never before had he seen such outgoing of magnetism and personal +energy from man to man, one mind holding in vassalage +five thousand. Yet it was all very quickly over. Almost +while the plaudits of the centuries were rending the air, +Cæsar turned to the senior tribune of the legion. +</p> + +<p> +"Are your men ready for the march, officer?" +</p> + +<p> +The soldier instantly fell into rigid military pose. "Ready +this instant, Imperator. We have expected the order." +</p> + +<p> +"March to Ariminum, and take possession of the town. +March rapidly." +</p> + +<p> +The tribune saluted, and stepped back among his cohort. +And as if some conjurer had flourished a wand of magic, in +the twinkling of an eye the first century had formed in marching +order; every legionary had flung over his shoulder his +shield and pack, and at the harsh blare of the military trumpet +the whole legion fell into line; the aquilifer with the bronze +eagle, that had tossed on high in a score of hard-fought fights, +swung off at the head of the van; and away went the legion, a +thing not of thinking flesh and blood, but of brass and iron—a +machine that marched as readily and carelessly against the +consuls of the Roman Republic as against the wretched Gallic +insurgents. The body of troops—cohort after cohort—was +vanishing down the road in a cloud of dust, the pack train +following after, almost before Drusus could realize that the +order to advance had been given. +</p> + +<p> +Cæsar was still standing on the little pulpit before the +prætorium. Except for Curio and Drusus, almost all the vast +company that had but just now been pressing about him with +adulation and homage were disappearing from sight. For an +instant the Imperator seemed alone, stripped of all the +panoply of his high estate. He stood watching the legion +until its dust-cloud settled behind some low-lying hills. Then +he stepped down from the pulpit. Beyond a few menials and +Drusus and that young man's late comrade in danger, no one +else was visible. The transaction had been so sudden as to +have something of the phantasmagoric about it. +</p> + +<p> +Cæsar took his two friends, one by each hand, and led them +back to his private study in the prætorium. +</p> + +<p> +"The army is yours, Imperator," said Curio, breaking a +rather oppressive silence. "The newest recruit is yours to the +death." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, to the death," replied the general, abstractedly; and +his keen eyes wandered down upon the mosaic, seemingly +penetrating the stone and seeking something hidden beneath. +"The thirteenth legion," he continued, "will do as a test of +the loyalty of the others. They will not fail me. The eighth +and the twelfth will soon be over the Alps. Fabius is at +Narbo with three. They will check Pompeius's Spaniards. +I must send to Trebonius for his four among the Belgæ; he is +sending Fabius one." And then, as if wearied by this recapitulation, +Cæsar's eyes wandered off again to the pavement. +</p> + +<p> +Drusus had an uneasy sensation. What was this strange +mingling of energy and listlessness? Why this soliloquy and +internal debate, when the moment called for the most intense +activity? The general being still silent, his friends did not +venture to disturb him. But Antiochus passed in and out of +the study, gathering up writing materials, tablets, and books; +and presently Drusus heard the freedman bidding an underling +have ready and packed the marble slabs used for the tessellated +floor of the Imperator's tent—a bit of luxury that Cæsar +never denied himself while in the field. Presently the proconsul +raised his eyes. He was smiling; there was not the +least cloud on his brow. +</p> + +<p> +"There will be some public games here this afternoon," he +remarked, as though the sole end in view was to make their +stay pleasant to his guests: "I have promised the good people +of the town to act as <i>editor</i>,<a name="r152" href="#fn152">[152]</a> and must not fail to honour them. +Perhaps the sport will amuse you, although the provincials +cannot of course get such good lanista-trained men as you see +at Rome. I have a new fencing school in which perhaps we +may find a few <i>threces</i><a name="r153" href="#fn153">[153]</a> and <i>retiarii</i>,<a name="r154" href="#fn154">[154]</a> who will give some tolerable +sword and net play." +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Hei!</i>" groaned Curio, with a lugubrious whisper, "to +think of it, I have never a sesterce left that I can call my +own, to stake on the struggle!" +</p> + +<p> +"At least," laughed Drusus, "I am a companion of your +grief; already Lentulus and Ahenobarbus have been sharing +my forfeited estate." +</p> + +<p> +But the proconsul looked serious and sad. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Vah</i>, my friends! Would that I could say that your loyalty +to my cause would cost you nothing! It is easy to promise to +win back for you everything you have abandoned, but as the +poets say, 'All that lies in the lap of the gods.' But you shall +not be any longer the mere recipients of my bounty. Stern +work is before us. I need not ask you if you will play your +part. You, Curio, shall have a proper place on my staff of +legates as soon as I have enough troops concentrated; but you, +my dear Drusus, what post would best reward you for your +loyalty? Will you be a military tribune, and succeed your +father?" +</p> + +<p> +"Your kindness outruns your judgment, Imperator," replied +Drusus. "Save repelling Dumnorix and Ahenobarbus, I never +struck a blow in anger. Small service would I be to you, and +little glory would I win as an officer, when the meanest legionary +knows much that I may learn." +</p> + +<p> +"Then, amice," said Cæsar, smiling, perhaps with the satisfaction +of a man who knows when it is safe to make a gracious +offer which he is aware will not be accepted, though none the +less flattering, "if you will thus misappraise yourself, you shall +act as centurion for the present, on my corps of <i>prætoriani</i>,<a name="r155" href="#fn155">[155]</a> +where you will be among friends and comrades of your father, +and be near my person if I have any special need of you." +</p> + +<p> +Drusus proffered the best thanks he could; it was a great +honour—one almost as great as a tribuneship, though hardly +as responsible; and he felt repaid for all the weariness of his +desperate ride to Ravenna. +</p> + +<p> +And then, with another of those strange alternations of +behaviour, Cæsar led him and Curio off to inspect the fencing-school; +then showed them his favourite horse, pointed out its +peculiar toelike hoofs, and related merrily how when it was a +young colt, a soothsayer had predicted that its owner would +be master of the world, and how he—Cæsar,—had broken +its fiery spirit, and made it perfectly docile, although no other +man could ride the beast. +</p> + +<p> +The afternoon wore on. Cæsar took his friends to the +games, and watched with all apparent interest the rather +sanguinary contests between the gladiators. Drusus noticed +the effusive loyalty of the Ravenna citizens, who shouted a +tumultuous welcome to the illustrious <i>editor</i>, but Cæsar acted +precisely as though the presidency of the sports were his most +important office. Only his young admirer observed that as +often as a gladiator brought his opponent down and appealed +to the <i>editor</i> for a decision on the life or death of the vanquished, +Cæsar invariably waved his handkerchief, a sign +of mercy, rather than brutally turned down his thumb, the +sentence of death. After the games, the proconsul interchanged +personal greetings with the more prominent townspeople. +Drusus began to wonder whether the whole day and +evening were to pass in this manner; and indeed so it seemed, +for that night the Imperator dispensed his usual open-handed +hospitality. His great banqueting hall contained indeed no +army officers, but there were an abundance of the provincial +gentry. Cæsar dined apart with his two friends. The courses +went in and out. The proconsul continued an unceasing flow +of light conversation: witty comments on Roman society and +fashion, scraps of literary lore, now and then a bit of personal +reminiscence of Gaul. Drusus forgot all else in the +agreeable pleasure of the moment. Presently Cæsar arose and +mingled with his less exalted guests; when he returned to the +upper table the attendants were bringing on the beakers, and +the Cisalpine provincials were pledging one another in +draughts of many <i>cyathi</i>, "prosperity to the proconsul, and +confusion to his enemies." Cæsar took a shallow glass of +embossed blue and white bas-relief work,—a triumph of Alexandrian +art,—poured into it a few drops of undiluted Cæcuban +liquor, dashed down the potion, then dropped the priceless +beaker on to the floor. +</p> + +<p> +"An offering to Fortuna!" he cried, springing from his +couch. "My friends, let us go!" And quietly leaving the +table on the dais, the three found themselves outside the banqueting +hall, while the provincials, unconscious that their +host had departed, continued their noisy revelry. +</p> + +<p> +Drusus at once saw that everything was ready for departure. +Antiochus was at hand with travelling cloaks, and assured the +young man that due care had been taken to send in advance +for him a complete wardrobe and outfit. The proconsul evidently +intended to waste no time in starting. Drusus realized +by the tone of his voice that Cæsar the host had vanished, and +Cæsar the imperator was present. His words were terse and +to the point. +</p> + +<p> +"Curio, you will find a fast horse awaiting you. Take it. +Bide at full speed after the legion. Take command of the +rear cohorts and of the others as you come up with them. +Lead rapidly to Ariminum." +</p> + +<p> +And Curio, who was a man of few words, when few were +needed, saluted and disappeared in the darkness. Drusus followed +the general out after him. But no saddle-horses were +prepared for Cæsar. Antiochus and one or two slaves were +ready with lanterns, and led the general and Drusus out of the +gloomy cantonment, along a short stretch of road, to a mill +building, where in the dim light of the last flickers of day +could be seen a carriage with mules. +</p> + +<p> +"I have hired this as you wished," said the freedman, +briefly. +</p> + +<p> +"It is well," responded his patron. +</p> + +<p> +Antiochus clambered upon the front seat; a stout German +serving-man was at the reins. Cæsar motioned to Drusus to sit +beside him behind. There were a few necessaries in the carriage, +but no other attendants, no luggage cart. The German shook +the reins over the backs of the two mules, and admonished +them in his barbarous native dialect. The dim shadow of the +mill faded from sight; the lights of the prætorium grew dimmer +and dimmer: soon nothing was to be seen outside the +narrow circle of pale light shed on the ground ahead by the +lantern. +</p> + +<p> +The autumn season was well advanced. The day however +had been warm. The night was sultry. There were no stars +above, no moon, no wind. A sickening miasmic odour rose +from the low flat country sloping off toward the Adriatic—the +smell of overripe fruit, of decaying vegetation, of the harvest +grown old. There had been a drought, and now the dust +rose thick and heavy, making the mules and travellers cough, +and the latter cover their faces. Out of the darkness came +not the least sound: save the creaking of the dead boughs on +trees, whose dim tracery could just be distinguished against +the sombre background of the sky. +</p> + +<p> +No one spoke, unless the incoherent shouts of the German +to the mules be termed speech. Antiochus and Cæsar were +sunk in stupor or reverie. Drusus settled back on the cushions, +closed his eyes, and bade himself believe that it was all +a dream. Six months ago he had been a student at Athens, +wandering with his friends along the trickling Cephissus, or +climbing, in holiday sport, the marble cone of Hymettus. +And now—he was a proscribed rebel! Enemies thirsted for +his blood! He was riding beside a man who made no disclaimer +of his intention to subvert the constitution! If Cæsar +failed, he, Drusus, would share in "that bad eminence" +awarded by fame to the execrated Catilinarians. Was it—was +it not all a dream? Connected thought became impossible. +Now he was in the dear old orchard at Præneste playing +<i>micare</i><a name="r156" href="#fn156">[156]</a> with Cornelia and Æmilia; now back in Athens, now +in Rome. Poetry, prose, scraps of oratory, philosophy, and rules +of rhetoric,—Latin and Greek inextricably intermixed,—ideas +without the least possible connection, raced through his head. +How long he thus drifted on in his reverie he might not say. +Perhaps he fell asleep, for the fatigue of his extraordinary riding +still wore on him. A cry from Antiochus, a curse from the +German, startled him out of his stupor. He stared about. It +was pitch dark. "The gods blast it!" Antiochus was bawling. +"The lantern has jolted out!" +</p> + +<p> +To relight it under existing circumstances, in an age when +friction matches were unknown, was practically impossible. +</p> + +<p> +"Fellow," said the proconsul's steady voice, "do you know +the road to Ariminum?" +</p> + +<p> +The driver answered in his broken Latin that he was the +slave of the stable keeper who had let the carriage, and had +been often over the road, but to go safely in the dark was +more than he could vouch for. The only thing the German +saw to be done was to wait in the road until the morning, or +until the moon broke out through the clouds. +</p> + +<p> +"Drusus," remarked the proconsul, "you are the youngest. +Can your eyes make out anything to tell us where we are?" +</p> + +<p> +The young man yawned, shook off his drowsiness, and stared +out into the gloomy void. +</p> + +<p> +"I can just make out that to our left are tall trees, and I +imagine a thicket." +</p> + +<p> +"Very good. If you can see as much as that here, it is safe +to proceed. Let us change places. I will take the reins. Do +you, Drusus, come and direct me." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! domine!" entreated Antiochus, "don't imperil yourself +to-night! I'm sure some calamity impends before dawn. +I consulted a soothsayer before setting out, and the dove +which he examined had no heart—a certain sign of evil." +</p> + +<p> +"Rascal!" retorted his patron, "the omens will be more +favourable when I please. A beast wants a heart—no very +great prodigy! men lose theirs very often, and think it slight +disgrace. Change your seat, sirrah!" +</p> + +<p> +Cæsar took the reins, smote the mules, and went off at so +furious a pace that the worthy Antiochus was soon busy invoking +first one, then another, member of the pantheon, to avert +disaster. Drusus speedily found that the general's vision was +far more keen than his own. Indeed, although the road, he +knew, was rough and crooked, they met with no mishaps. +Presently a light could be seen twinkling in the distance. +</p> + +<p> +"We must get a guide," remarked the Imperator decisively, +and he struck the mules again. +</p> + +<p> +They at last approached what the owl-like discernment of +Cæsar pronounced to be a small farmhouse with a few out-buildings. +But it was no easy matter to arouse the drowsy +countrymen, and a still more difficult task to convince the good +man of the house that his nocturnal visitors were not brigands. +At last it was explained that two gentlemen from Ravenna were +bound for Ariminum, on urgent business, and he must furnish +a guide for which he would be amply paid. As a result, the +German driver at last resumed the reins, and sped away with +a fresh lantern, and at his side a stupid peasant boy, who was +almost too shy to make himself useful. +</p> + +<p> +But more misfortune was in store. Barely a mile had they +traversed, before an ominous crack proclaimed the splitting of +an axletree. The cheap hired vehicle could go no farther. +</p> + +<p> +"'Tis a sure sign the gods are against our proceeding this +night," expostulated Antiochus; "let us walk back to the farmhouse, +my lord." +</p> + +<p> +Cæsar did not deign to give him an answer. He deliberately +descended, clasped his pænula over his shoulders, and bade +the German make the best of his way back to Ravenna. The +peasant boy, he declared, could lead them on foot until dawn. +</p> + +<p> +The freedman groaned, but he was helpless. The guide, +bearing the lantern, convoyed them out of the highroad, to +strike what he assured them was a less circuitous route; and +soon had his travellers, now plunged in quagmires that in daylight +would have seemed impassable, now clambering over +stocks and stones, now leaping broad ditches. At last, after +thoroughly exhausting the patience of his companions, the +wretched fellow confessed that he had missed the by-path, and +indeed did not know the way back. +</p> + +<p> +Antiochus was now too frightened to declare his warnings confirmed. +Drusus liked the prospect of a halt on these swampy, +miasmic fields little enough, But again the proconsul was all +resources. With almost omniscience he led his companions +through blind mazes of fallow land and stubble fields: came +upon a brook at the only point where there appeared to be any +stepping-stones; and at length, just as the murky clouds seemed +about to lift, and the first beams of the moon struggled out +into the black chaos, the wanderers saw a multitude of fires +twinkling before them, and knew that they had come upon the +rear cohort of the thirteenth legion, on its way to Ariminum. +</p> + +<p> +The challenge of the sentry was met by a quick return of the +watchword, but the effusively loyal soldier was bidden to hold +his peace and not disturb his comrades. +</p> + +<p> +"What time is it?" inquired his general. The fellow +replied it lacked one hour of morn. Cæsar skirted the sleeping +camp, and soon came out again on the highroad. There +was a faint paleness in the east; a single lark sang from out +the mist of grey ether overhead; an ox of the baggage train +rattled his tethering chain and bellowed. A soft, damp river +fog touched on Drusus's face. Suddenly an early horseman, +coming at a moderate gallop, was heard down the road. In the +stillness, the pounding of his steed crept slowly nearer and +nearer; then, as he was almost on them, came the hollow +clatter of the hoofs upon the planks of a bridge. <i>Cæsar +stopped.</i> Drusus felt himself clutched by the arm so tightly +that the grasp almost meant pain. +</p> + +<p> +"Do you hear? Do you see?" muttered the Imperator's +voice in his ear. "The bridge, the river—we have reached +it!" +</p> + +<p> +"Your excellency—" began Drusus, sorely at a loss. +</p> + +<p> +"No compliments, this is the Rubicon; the boundaries of +Cisalpine Gaul and Italy. On this side I am still the Proconsul—not +as yet rightly deposed. On the other—Cæsar, +the Outlaw, the Insurgent, the Enemy of his Country, whose +hand is against every man, every man's hand against him. +What say you? Speak! speak quickly! Shall I cross? Shall +I turn back?" +</p> + +<p> +"Imperator," said the young man, struggling to collect his +wits and realize the gravity of his own words, "if you did not +intend to cross, why send the legion over to commence the +invasion? Why harangue them, if you had no test to place +upon their loyalty?" +</p> + +<p> +"Because," was his answer, "I would not through my own +indecision throw away my chance to strike. But the troops +can be recalled. It is not too late. No blood has been shed. +I am merely in a position to strike if so I decide. No,—nothing +is settled." +</p> + +<p> +Drusus had never felt greater embarrassment. Before he +could make reply, Cæsar had bidden Antiochus and the peasant +boy remain in the roadway, and had led the young man down +the embankment that ran sloping toward the river. The light +was growing stronger every moment, though the mist still +hung heavy and dank. Below their feet the slender stream—it +was the end of the season—ran with a monotonous gurgle, +now and then casting up a little fleck of foam, as it rolled by +a small boulder in its bed. +</p> + +<p> +"Imperator," said Drusus, while Cæsar pressed his hand +tighter and tighter, "why advise with an inexperienced young +man like myself? Why did you send Curio away? I have +no wisdom to offer; nor dare proffer it, if such I had." +</p> + +<p> +"Quintus Drusus," replied Cæsar, sinking rather wearily +down upon the dry, dying grass, "if I had needed the counsel +of a soldier, I should have waited until Marcus Antonius +arrived; if I had needed that of a politician, I was a fool to +send away Curio; if I desire the counsel of one who is, as yet, +neither a man of the camp, nor a man of the Forum, but who +can see things with clear eyes, can tell what may be neither +glorious nor expedient, but what will be the will,"—and here +the Imperator hesitated,—"the will of the gods, tell me to +whom I shall go." +</p> + +<p> +Drusus was silent; the other continued;— +</p> + +<p> +"Listen, Quintus Drusus. I do not believe in blind fate. +We were not given wills only to have them broken. The +function of a limb is not to be maimed, nor severed from the +body. A limb is to serve a man; just so a man and his actions +are to serve the ends of a power higher and nobler than he. +If he refuse to serve that power, he is like the mortifying +limb,—a thing of evil to be cut off. And this is true of all +of us; we all have some end to serve, we are not created for +no purpose." Cæsar paused. When he began again it was +in a different tone of voice. "I have brought you with me, +because I know you are intelligent, are humane, love your +country, and can make sacrifices for her; because you are +my friend and to a certain extent share my destiny; because +you are too young to have become overprejudiced, and calloused +to pet foibles and transgressions. Therefore I took +you with me, having put off the final decision to the last possible +instant. And now I desire your counsel." +</p> + +<p> +"How can I counsel peace!" replied Drusus, warming to a +sense of the situation. "Is not Italy in the hand of tyrants? +Is not Pompeius the tool of coarse schemers? Do they not +pray for proscriptions and confiscations and abolition of debt? +Will there be any peace, any happiness in life, so long as we +call ourselves freemen, yet endure the chains of a despotism +worse than that of the Parthians?" +</p> + +<p> +"Ah! amice!" said Cæsar, twisting the long limp grass, +"every enemy is a tyrant, if he has the upper hand. Consider, +what will the war be? Blood, the blood of the noblest Romans! +The overturning of time-honoured institutions! A shock that +will make the world to tremble, kings be laid low, cities annihilated! +East, west, north, south—all involved—so great has +our Roman world become!" +</p> + +<p> +"And are there not wrongs, abuses, Imperator, which cry for +vengeance and for righting?" replied Drusus, vehemently. +"Since the fall of Carthage, have not the fears of Scipio +Æmilianus almost come true: Troy has fallen, Carthage has +fallen; has not Rome almost fallen, fallen not by the might of +her enemies, but by the decay of her morals, the degeneracy of +her statesmen? What is the name of liberty, without the +semblance! Is it liberty for a few mighty families to enrich +themselves, while the Republic groans? Is it liberty for the +law courts to have their price, for the provinces to be the farms +of a handful of nobles?" +</p> + +<p> +Cæsar shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +"You do not know what you say. This is no moment for +declamation. Every man has his own life to live, his own +death to die. Our intellects cannot assure us of any consciousness +the instant that breath has left our bodies. It is then as +if we had never hoped, had never feared; it is rest, peace. +Quintus Drusus, I have dared many things in my life. I defied +Sulla; it was boyish impetuosity. I took the unpopular and +perilous side when Catilina's confederates were sent to their +deaths; it was the ardour of a young politician. I defied the +rage of the Senate, while I was prætor; still more hot madness. +I faced death a thousand times in Gaul, against the +Nervii, in the campaign with Vercingetorix; all this was the +mere courage of the common soldier. But it is not of death I +am afraid; be it death on the field of battle, or death at the +hands of the executioner, should I fall into the power of my +enemies, I fear myself. +</p> + +<p> +"You ask me to explain?" went on the general, without +pausing for a question. "Hearken! I am a man, you are a +man, our enemies are men. I have slain a hundred thousand +men in Gaul. Cruel? No, for had they lived the great designs +which the deity wills to accomplish in that country could not +be executed! But then my mind was at rest. I said, 'Let +these men die,' and no Nemesis has required their blood at my +hands. What profit these considerations? The Republic is +nothing but a name, without substance or reality. It is doomed +to fall. Sulla was a fool to abdicate the dictatorship. Why +did he not establish a despotism, and save us all this turmoil of +politics? But Lentulus Crus, Pompeius, Cato, Scipio—they +are men with as much ambition, as much love of life, as myself. +The Republic will fall into their hands. Why will it be worse +off than in mine? Why shed rivers of blood? After death +one knows no regrets. If I were dead, what would it matter +to me if obloquy was imputed to my name, if my enemies +triumphed, if the world went to chaos over my grave. It +would not mean so much as a single evil dream in my perpetual +slumber." +</p> + +<p> +Cæsar was no longer resting on the bank. He was pacing to +and fro, with rapid, nervous steps, crushing the dry twigs under +his shoes, pressing his hands together behind his back, knitting +and unknitting his fingers. +</p> + +<p> +Drusus knew enough to be aware that he was present as a +spectator of that most terrible of all conflicts—a strong man's +wrestle with his own misgivings. To say something, to say +anything, that would ease the shock of the contest—that was +the young man's compelling desire; but he felt as helpless as +though he, single handed, confronted ten legions. +</p> + +<p> +"But your friends, Imperator," he faltered, "think of them! +They have made sacrifices for you. They trust in you. Do not +abandon them to their enemies!" +</p> + +<p> +Cæsar stopped in his impetuous pacings. +</p> + +<p> +"Look here," he exclaimed, almost fiercely, "you wish to be +happy. You are still very young; life is sweet. You have just +forsaken wealth, friends, love, because you have a fantastic +attachment for my cause. You will live to repent of your +boyish decision. You will wish to win back all you have lost. +Well, I will give you the chance; do what I tell you, and you +shall ride into Rome the hero of Senate and people! The +consuls will be to you all smiles. Pompeius will canvass for +you if you desire to become a candidate for curule office +before you reach the legal age limit. Cicero will extol your +name in an immortal oration, in which he will laud your deed +above the slaying of the dangerous demagogue Mælius by +Servilius Ahala. Will you do as I shall bid you?" +</p> + +<p> +Drusus's eyes had been riveted on those of the general. He +saw that at Cæsar's side was girded a long slender dagger in +an embossed silver sheath. He saw the Imperator draw out +the blade halfway, then point off into the river where the +water ran sluggishly through a single deep mist-shaded pool. +</p> + +<p> +"Do you understand?" went on Cæsar, as calmly as though +he had been expounding a problem of metaphysics. "You can +take this ring of mine, and by its aid go through the whole +legion, and obtain the best horses for flight, before anything is +discovered. Your conscience need not trouble you. You will +only have done as I earnestly requested." +</p> + +<p> +The cold sweat started to Drusus's forehead, his head swam; +he knew that it was more than the mist of the river-fog that +drifted before his eyes. Then, filled with a sudden impulse, +he sprang on the general and wrenched the dagger from its +sheath. +</p> + +<p> +"Here!" cried Cæsar, tearing back the mantle from his +breast. +</p> + +<p> +"There!" cried Drusus, and the bright blade glinted once +in the air, and splashed down into the dark ripple. He caught +the Imperator about the arms, and flung his head on the other's +neck. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! Imperator," he cried, "do not desert us. Do not +desert the Commonwealth! Do not hand us back to new ruin, +new tyrants, new wars! Strike, strike, and so be merciful! +Surely the gods have not led you thus far, and no farther! +But yesterday you said they were leading us. To-day they +still must guide! To you it has been given to pull down and +to build up. Fail not! If there be gods, trust in them! If +there be none slay me first, then do whatever you will!" +</p> + +<p> +Cæsar shook himself. His voice was harsh with command. +</p> + +<p> +"Unhand me! I must accomplish my own fate!" and then, +in a totally different tone, "Quintus Drusus, I have been a +coward for the first time in my life. Are you ashamed of your +general?" +</p> + +<p> +"I never admired you more, Imperator." +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you. And will you go aside a little, please? I will +need a few moments for meditation." +</p> + +<p> +Drusus hesitated. His eyes wandered off to the river. In +one spot it was quite deep. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Phui!</i>" said the proconsul, carelessly, "I am too brave for +such a venture now. Leave me on my embankment, like +Diogenes and his tub." +</p> + +<p> +Drusus clambered part way up the slope, and seated himself +under a stunted oak tree. The light was growing stronger. +The east was overshot with ripples of crimson and orange, +here blending into lines each more gorgeous than a moment +before. The wind was chasing in from the bosom of Adria, +and driving the fleeting mists up the little valley. The hills +were springing out of the gloom, the thrushes were swinging +in the boughs overhead, and pouring out their morning song. +Out from the camp the bugles were calling the soldiers for the +march; the baggage trains were rumbling over the bridge. +But still below on the marge lingered the solitary figure; now +walking, now motionless, now silent, now speaking in indistinct +monologue. Drusus overheard only an occasional word, "Pompeius, +poor tool of knaves! I pity him! I must show mercy +to Cato if I can! Sulla is not to be imitated! The Republic is +fallen; what I put in its place must not fall." Then, after a +long pause, "So this was to be my end in life—to destroy the +Commonwealth; what is destined, is destined!" And a +moment later Drusus saw the general coming up the embankment. +</p> + +<p> +"We shall find horses, I think, a little way over the bridge," +said Cæsar; "the sun is nearly risen. It is nine miles to Ariminum; +there we can find refreshment." +</p> + +<p> +The Imperator's brow was clear, his step elastic, the fatigues +of the night seemed to have only added to his vigorous good +humour. Antiochus met them. The good man evidently was +relieved of a load of anxiety. The three approached the +bridge; as they did so, a little knot of officers of the rear cohort, +Asinius Pollio and others, rode up and saluted. The golden +rim of the sun was just glittering above the eastern lowlands. +Cæsar put foot upon the bridge. Drusus saw the blood recede +from his face, his muscles contract, his frame quiver. The +general turned to his officers. +</p> + +<p> +"Gentlemen," he said quietly, "we may still retreat; but if +we once pass this little bridge, nothing is left for us but to +fight it out in arms." +</p> + +<p> +The group was silent, each waiting for the other to speak. At +this instant a mountebank piper sitting by the roadway struck +up his ditty, and a few idle soldiers and wayfaring shepherds +ran up to him to catch the music. The man flung down his +pipe, snatched a trumpet from a bugler, and, springing up, blew +a shrill blast. It was the "advance." Cæsar turned again to +his officers. +</p> + +<p> +"Gentlemen," he said, "let us go where the omens of the +gods and the iniquity of our enemies call us! <i>The die is now +cast!"</i> +</p> + +<p> +And he strode over the bridge, looking neither to the right +hand nor to the left. As his feet touched the dust of the road +beyond, the full sun touched the horizon, the landscape was +bathed with living, quivering gold, and the brightness shed +itself over the steadfast countenance, not of Cæsar the Proconsul, +but of Cæsar the Insurgent. +</p> + +<p> +The Rubicon was crossed! +</p> + + + + + +<h2 id="ch17">CHAPTER XVII</h2> + +<h2>THE PROFITABLE CAREER OF GABINIUS</h2> + + +<p> +Very wretched had been the remnants of Dumnorix's band +of gladiators, when nightfall had covered them from pursuit +by the enraged Prænestians. And for some days the defeated +assassins led a desperate struggle for existence on the uplands +above the Latin plain. Then, when the hue and cry aroused +by their mad exploit had died away, Dumnorix was able to +reorganize his men into a regular horde of banditti. In the +sheltered valleys of the upper Apennines they found moderately +safe and comfortable fastnesses, and soon around them +gathered a number of unattached highwaymen, who sought +protection and profit in allying themselves with the band led +by the redoubtable lanista. But if Dumnorix was the right arm +of this noble company, Publius Gabinius was its head. The +Roman had sorely missed the loss of the thousand and one +luxuries that made his former life worth living. But, as +has been said, he had become sated with almost every current +amusement and vice; and when the freshness of the physical +hardships of his new career was over, he discovered that he +had just begun to taste joys of which he would not soon grow +weary. +</p> + +<p> +And so for a while the bandits ranged over the mountains, +infested the roads, stopped travellers to ease them of their +purses, or even dashed down on outlying country houses, which +they plundered, and left burning as beacons of their handiwork. +Even this occupation after a time, however, grew +monotonous to Gabinius. To be sure, a goodly pile of money +was accumulating in the hut where he and Dumnorix, his fellow-leader, +made their headquarters; and the bandits carried +away with them to their stronghold a number of slave and +peasant girls, who aided to make the camp the scene of +enough riot and orgy to satisfy the most graceless; but +Gabinius had higher ambitions than these. He could not +spend the gold on dinner parties, or bronze statuettes; and +the maidens picked up in the country made a poor contrast to +his city sweethearts. Gabinius was planning a great piece of +<i>finesse</i>. He had not forgotten Fabia; least of all had he forgotten +how he had had her as it were in his very arms, and +let her vanish from him as though she had been a "shade" of +thin air. If he must be a bandit, he would be an original one. +A Vestal taken captive by robbers! A Vestal imprisoned in +the hold of banditti, forced to become the consort, lawful or +unlawful, of the brigands' chief! The very thought grew and +grew in Gabinius's imagination, until he could think of little +else. Dumnorix and his comrades trusted him almost implicitly; +he had been successful as their schemer and leader in +several dark enterprises, that proved his craft if not his valour. +He would not fail in this. +</p> + +<p> +An overmastering influence was drawing him to Rome. He +took one or two fellow-spirits in his company, and ventured +over hill and valley to the suburbs of the city on a reconnoissance, +while by night he ventured inside the walls. +</p> + +<p> +The capital he found in the ferment that preceded the +expulsion of the tribunes, on the fateful seventh of January. +Along with many another evil-doer, he and his followers +filched more than one wallet during the commotions and +tumults. He dared not show himself very openly. His crime +had been too notorious to be passed over, even if committed +against a doomed Cæsarian like Drusus; besides, he was utterly +without any political influence that would stand him in good +stead. But around the Atrium Vestæ he lurked in the dark, +spying out the land and waiting for a glimpse of Fabia. Once +only his eye caught a white-robed stately figure appearing in +the doorway toward evening, a figure which instinct told him +was the object of his passion. He had to restrain himself, or +he would have thrown off all concealment then and there, +and snatched her away in his arms. He saved himself that +folly, but his quest seemed hopeless. However weak the +patrol in other parts of the city, there was always an ample +watch around the Atrium Vestæ. +</p> + +<p> +Gabinius saw that his stay around Rome was only likely to +bring him into the clutches of the law, and reluctantly he +started back, by a night journey in a stolen wagon, for the +safer hill country beyond the Anio. But he was not utterly +cast down. He had overheard the street talk of two equites, +whom in more happy days he had known as rising politicians. +</p> + +<p> +"I hope the consuls are right," the first had said, "that +Cæsar's army will desert him." +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Perpol</i>," responded the other, "your wish is mine! If the +proconsul really <i>does</i> advance, nothing will stand between him +and the city!" +</p> + +<p> +Gabinius kept his own counsel. "In times of war and confusion, +the extremity of the many is the opportunity of the +few," was the maxim he repeated to himself. +</p> + +<p> +When he was well out of the city and moving up the Via +Salaria, the trot and rattle of an approaching carriage drifted +up upon him. +</p> + +<p> +"Shall we stop and strip them?" asked Dromo, one of the +accompanying brigands, in a matter-of-fact tone. +</p> + +<p> +"Ay," responded Gabinius, reining in his own plodding +draught-horse, and pulling out a short sword. "Let us take +what the Fates send!" +</p> + +<p> +A moment later and Servius Flaccus was being tumbled +out of his comfortable travelling carriage, while one brigand +stood guard over him with drawn sabre, a second held at bay +his trembling driver and whimpering valet, and a third rifled +his own person and his conveyance. There was a bright moon, +and the luckless traveller's gaze fastened itself on the third +bandit. +</p> + +<p> +"By all the gods, Gabinius!" cried Servius, forgetting to +lisp his Greekisms, "don't you know me? Let me go, for old +friendship's sake!" +</p> + +<p> +Gabinius turned from his task, and held to his nose a glass +scent-bottle he had found in the vehicle. +</p> + +<p> +"Ah! amice," he responded deliberately, "I really did not +anticipate the pleasure of meeting you thus! You are returning +very late to Rome from your Fidenæ villa. But this is +very excellent oil of rose!" +</p> + +<p> +"Enough of this, man!" expostulated the other. "The +jest has gone quite far enough. Make this horrible fellow +lower that sword." +</p> + +<p> +"Not until I have finished making up my package of little +articles," replied Gabinius, "and," suiting the action to the +word, "relieved your fingers of the weight of those very heavy +rings." +</p> + +<p> +"Gabinius," roared Servius, in impotent fury, "what are you +doing? Are you a common bandit?" +</p> + +<p> +"A bandit, my excellent friend," was his answer, "but not +a common one; no ordinary footpad could strip the noble +Servius Flaccus without a harder struggle." +</p> + +<p> +Servius burst into lamentations. +</p> + +<p> +"My box of unguents! My precious rings! My money-bag! +You are not leaving me one valuable! Have you sunk as low +as this?" +</p> + +<p> +"Really," returned the robber, "I have no time to convince +you that the brigand's life is the only one worth living. You +do not care to join our illustrious brotherhood? No? Well, +I must put these trinkets and fat little wallet in my own wagon. +I leave you your cloak out of old friendship's sake. Really +you must not blame me. Remember Euripides's line:— +</p> + + +<blockquote> +<p> +"'Money can warp the judgment of a God.' +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +Thus I err in good company. And with this, <i>vale!</i>" +</p> + +<p> +Flaccus was left with his menials to clamber back into his +plundered carriage. Gabinius drove his horse at topmost +speed, and before morning was saluted by the remainder of +the banditti, near their mountain stronghold. Dumnorix met +him with news. +</p> + +<p> +"It is rumoured in the country towns that Cæsar is driving +all before him in the north, and will be down on Rome in less +days than I have fingers." +</p> + +<p> +Gabinius clapped his hands. +</p> + +<p> +"And we will be down on Rome, and away from it, before a +legionary shows himself at the gates!" +</p> + + + + +<h2 id="ch18">CHAPTER XVIII</h2> + +<h2>HOW POMPEIUS STAMPED WITH HIS FEET</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p> +A messenger to the consuls! He had ridden fast and +furious, his horse was flecked with foam and straining on his +last burst of speed. On over the Mulvian Bridge he thundered; +on across the Campus Martius; on to the Porta Ratumena—with +all the hucksters and street rabble howling and +chasing at his heels. +</p> + +<p> +"News! News for the consuls!" +</p> + +<p> +"What news?" howled old Læca, who was never backward +in a street press. +</p> + +<p> +"Terrible!" shouted the messenger, drawing rein, "Cæsar +is sweeping all before him! All Thermus's troops have deserted +him at Iguvium. Attius Varus has evacuated Auximum, +and his troops too have dispersed, or joined Cæsar. All +the towns are declaring for the enemy. <i>Vah!</i> He will be +here in a few days at most! I am the last of the relay with +the news. I have hardly breathed from Eretum!" +</p> + +<p> +And the courier plunged the spur into his hard-driven mount, +and forced his way into the city, through the mob. "Cæsar +advancing on Rome!" The Jewish pedlers took up the tale, +and carried it to the remotest tenement houses of Janiculum. +The lazy street-idlers shouted it shrilly. Læca, catching sight +of Lucius Ahenobarbus, just back from Baiæ, and a little knot +of kindred spirits about him, was in an instant pouring it all +in their ears. The news spread, flew, grew. The bankers on +the Via Sacra closed their credit books, raised their shutters, +and sent trusted clerks off to suburban villas, with due orders +how to bury and hide weighty money-bags. The news came +to that very noble lady Claudia, sister-in-law of the consul, +just at the moment when she was discussing the latest style +of hairdressing with the most excellent Herennia; and the +cheeks of those patrician ladies grew pale, and they forgot +whether or not it was proper to wear ivory pins or a jewel-set +head-band, at the dinner-party of Lucius Piso that evening. +The news came to Lentulus Crus while he was wrangling with +Domitius as to who should be Cæsar's successor as Pontifex +Maximus—and those distinguished statesmen found other +things to think of. +</p> + +<p> +The news flew and grew. The noble senators overheard +their slaves whispering,—how it was rumoured on the street +or in the Forum that Cæsar was in full advance on the city, +that his cavalry were close to the gates. Cæsar at the gates! +Why had they not remembered how rapidly he could advance? +Why had they trusted the assurance of the traitor +Labienus that the legions would desert their Imperator? Resist? +By what means? The walls were walls only in name; +the city had long outgrown them, spreading through a thousand +breaches. There was not a trained soldier this side of +Capua, whither Pompeius had departed only the day before to +take command of the Apulian legions. Cæsar was coming! +Cæsar—whose tribunes the oligarchs had chased from the +Senate! Cæsar—whom they had proclaimed a rebel and public +enemy! He was coming like a second Marius, who thirty-eight +years before had swept down on Rome, and taken a +terrible vengeance on enemies less bitter to him than they to +the great Julian. "<i>Moriendum est</i>,"<a name="r157" href="#fn157">[157]</a> had been the only reply +to every plea for mercy. And would Cæsar now be more +lenient to those who had aimed to blast his honour and shed +his blood? +</p> + +<p> +Evening drew on, but the calamity was only delayed. +There was not a soldier to confront the invader. Few men +that night could sleep. Rich and poor alike, all trembled. +To their imaginations their foe was an ogre, implacable, +unsparing. "Remember how it was in Sulla's day," croaked +Læca to Ahenobarbus. "Remember how he proscribed forty +senators and sixteen hundred equites with one stroke. A fine +example for Cæsar! And Drusus, who is with the rebels, is +little likely to say a good word in your behalf, eh?" +</p> + +<p> +"The gods blast your tongue!" cried the young man, wringing +his hands in terror; for that Drusus would ruin him, if +he gained the chance, Lucius had not the least doubt in the +world. +</p> + +<p> +So passed the night, in fear and panic. When morning +came everything save flight seemed suicide. There was a +great government treasure in the Temple of Saturn. The +Senate had voted that the money be delivered to Pompeius. +But the consuls were too demoralized to take away a denarius. +They left the great hoard under mere lock and key—a present +to their bitterest enemy. Then began the great exodus. +Hardly a man had done more than gather a few valuables +together: property, children, wives—all these were left to +the avenger. Down the Via Appia, toward Campania, +where was their only safety, poured the panic-stricken +company. Every carriage, every horse, was in service. +The hard-driven chariots of the consuls were the tokens +merely of the swiftest flight. Lentulus Crus fled; Caius Marcellus, +his colleague, was close behind; Domitius fled, with +his sons; Cato fled, ironically exclaiming that they would +have to leave everything to Pompeius now, "for those who +can raise up great evils can best allay them." Favonius fled, +whose first words, when he met the Magnus, were to command +him to "stamp on the ground for the legions so sorely needed." +Piso, Scipio, and many another fled—their guilty hearts adding +wings to their goings. Cicero fled—gazing in cynical disgust +at the panic and incompetence, yet with a sword of Damocles, +as he believed, hanging over his head also. "I fear that +Cæsar will be a very Phalaris, and that we may expect the +very worst," he wrote to his intimate friend Atticus, who, +safe from harm and turmoil, was dwelling under the calm +Athenian sky. A great fraction of the Senate departed; only +those stayed who felt that their loyalty to the advancing +Imperator was beyond dispute, or who deemed themselves too +insignificant to fall beneath his displeasure. In the hour of +crisis the old ties of religion and superstition reasserted themselves. +Senators and magistrates, who had deemed it a polite +avocation to mock at the gods and deny the existence of any +absolute ethical standards, now, before they climbed into +their carriages for flight, went, with due ritual, into the +temples of the gods of their fathers, and swore hecatombs of +milk-white Umbrian steers to Capitoline Jove, if the awful +deity would restore them to the native land they then were +quitting. And as they went down from the temples and +hastened toward the gates, friends and clients who could not +join their flight crowded after them, sighing, lamenting, and +moaning. Out over the Campagna they streamed, this company +of senators, prætors, consuls—men who had voted thrones +to kings, and decreed the deposition of monarchs; whose +personal wealth was princely, whose lineage the noblest in the +world, whose ancestors had beaten down Etruscan, Gaul, Samnite, +and Carthaginian, that their posterity might enjoy the +glory of unequalled empire. And these descendants fled, fled +not before any foe, but before their own guilty consciences; +abandoning the city of their fathers when not a sword had +flashed against her gates! The war had been of their making; +to send Cæsar into outlawry the aristocracy had laboured ten +long years. And now the noble lords were exiles, wanderers +among the nations. To Capua they went, to find small comfort +there, and thence to join Pompeius in further flight beyond +the seas to Greece. But we anticipate. Enough that neither +Lentulus Crus, nor Domitius, nor Cato, nor the great Magnus +himself, ever saw Rome again. +</p> + + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p> +Agias stood in a shop by the Sacred Way watching the stream +of fugitives pouring down toward the Porta Capena. At his +side was a person whom a glance proclaimed to be a fellow-Greek. +The stranger was perhaps fifty, his frame presented +a faultless picture of symmetry and manly vigour, great of +stature, the limbs large but not ungainly. His features were +regular, but possessed just enough prominence to make them +free from the least tinge of weakness. The Greek's long, thick, +dark but grey-streaked beard streamed down upon his breast; +his hair, of similar hue, was long, and tossed back over his +shoulders in loose curls. His dress was rich, yet rude, his +chiton and cloak short, but of choice Milesian wool and dyed +scarlet and purple; around his neck dangled a very heavy +gold chain set with conspicuously blazing jewels. The ankles, +however, were bare, and the sandals of the slightest and meanest +description. The stranger must once have been of a light, +not to say fair, complexion; but cheeks, throat, arms, and feet +were all deeply bronzed, evidently by prolonged exposure to +wind and weather. Agias and his companion watched the +throng of panic-struck exiles. The younger Greek was pointing +out, with the complacency of familiar knowledge, the +names and dignities of the illustrious fugitives. +</p> + +<p> +"Yonder goes Cato," he was saying; "mark his bitter +scowl! There goes Marcus Marcellus, the consular. There +drives the chariot of Lucius Domitius, Cæsar's great enemy." +And Agias stopped, for his friend had seized his arm with a +sudden grasp, crushing as iron. "Why, by all the gods, +Demetrius, why are you staring at him that way?" +</p> + +<p> +"By Zeus!" muttered the other, "if I had only my sword! +It would be easy to stab him, and then escape in this crowd!" +</p> + +<p> +"Stab him!" cried Agias. "Demetrius, good cousin, control +yourself. You are not on the deck of your trireme, with all +your men about you. Why should you be thus sanguinary, +when you see Lucius Domitius? Why hate him more than +any other Roman?" +</p> + +<p> +The consular, unaware of the threat against him, but with +a compelling fear of Cæsar's Gallic cavalry lending strength +to the arm with which he plied the whip—for the law against +driving inside the city no man respected that day—whirled +out of sight. +</p> + +<p> +Demetrius still strained at his cousin's arm. +</p> + +<p> +"Listen, Agias," he said, still hoarsely. "Only yesterday I +ran upon you by chance in the crowd. We have many things +to tell one another, chiefly I to tell you. Why do I hate +Lucius Domitius? Why should you hate him? Who made +you a slave and me an outlaw? Your father died bankrupt; +you know it was said that Philias, his partner, ruined +him. That was truth, but not the whole truth. Philias was +under deep obligations to a certain Roman then in the East, +who knew of several crimes Philias had committed, crimes +that would bring him to the cross if discovered. Do you +understand?" +</p> + +<p> +"Hardly," said Agias, still bewildered. "I was very young +then." +</p> + +<p> +"I will go on. It was shortly before Pompeius returned +to Rome from the East. Your father had charge of the banking +firm in Alexandria, Philias of the branch at Antioch. I +was a clerk in the Antioch banking-house. I knew that Philias +was misusing his partner's name and credit. The Roman +whom I have mentioned knew it too, and had a supple Greek +confidant who shared his spoils and gave the touches to his +schemes. He had good cause to know: he was levying blackmail +on Philias. At last a crisis came; the defalcation could +be concealed no longer. Philias was duly punished; he was +less guilty than he seemed. But the Roman—who had forced +from him the money—he was high on the staff of the proconsul—let +his confederate and tool suffer for his own fault. +He kept his peace. I would not have kept mine; I would not +have let the real ruiner of my uncle escape. But the Roman had +me seized, with the aid of his Greek ally; he charged me with +treasonable correspondence with the Parthians. He, through +his influence with the proconsul, had me bound to the oar as +a galley slave for life. I would have been executed but for +another Roman, of the governor's suite, who was my friend. +He pleaded for my life; he believed me innocent. He saved +my life—on what terms! But that is not all he did. He +bribed my guards; I escaped and turned outlaw. I joined +the last remnants of the Cilician pirates, the few free mariners +who have survived Pompeius's raid. And here I am in +Rome with one of my ships, disguised as a trader, riding at +the river wharf." +</p> + +<p> +"And the name of the Roman who ruined you and my +father?" said Agias. +</p> + +<p> +"Was Lucius Domitius. The friend who saved me was +Sextus Drusus, son of Marcus Drusus, the reformer. And if +I do not recompense them both as they deserve, I am not +Demetrius the pirate, captain of seven ships!" +</p> + +<p> +"You will never recompense Sextus Drusus," remarked +Agias, quietly. "He has been dead, slain in Gaul, these five +years." +</p> + +<p> +"Such is the will of the gods," said Demetrius, looking +down. +</p> + +<p> +"But he has left a son." +</p> + +<p> +"Ah! What sort of a man?" +</p> + +<p> +"The noblest of all noble Romans. He is the Quintus +Drusus who saved my life, as last night I told you." +</p> + +<p> +"Mithras be praised! The name is so common among these +Latins that I did not imagine any connection when you mentioned +it. What can I do to serve him?" +</p> + +<p> +"Immediately, nothing. He is with Cæsar, and, as you +see, the enemies of the Imperator are not likely, at present, +to work his friends much mischief. Yet it is singular that +his chief enemy and yours are so near akin. Lucius Ahenobarbus, +son of Domitius, is thirsting for Drusus's blood." +</p> + +<p> +"If I had my sword!" muttered Demetrius, clapping his +hand to his thigh. "It is not too late to run after the fugitives!" +</p> + +<p> +"Come, come," remonstrated Agias, feeling that his newly +found cousin was indeed a fearful and wonderful man after +twelve years of lawless and godless freebooter's life. "At +my lodgings we will talk it all over; and there will be +time enough to scheme the undoing of Domitius and all his +family." +</p> + +<p> +And with these words he led the sanguinary sea-king away. +</p> + + +<hr /> + +<p> +Agias indeed found in Demetrius a perfect mine of bloody +romance and adventure. It had been the banking clerk's +misfortune, not his fault, that every man's hand had been +against him and his against every man. Demetrius had been +declared an outlaw to Roman authority; and Roman authority +at that time stretched over very nearly every quarter of the +civilized world. Demetrius had been to India, to intercept the +Red Sea traders. He had been beyond the Pillars of Hercules +and set foot on those then half-mythical islands of the Canaries. +He had plundered a hundred merchantmen; he had fought a +score of Roman government galleys; he had been principal or +accessory to the taking of ten thousand lives. All this had +been forced upon him, because there was no tolerable spot on +the planet where he might settle down and be free from the +grasp of punishment for a crime he had never committed. +</p> + +<p> +Demetrius had boldly come up to Rome on a light undecked +yacht.<a name="r158" href="#fn158">[158]</a> The harbor masters had been given to understand +that the captain of the craft was an Asiatic princeling, who +was visiting the capital of the world out of a quite legitimate +curiosity. If they had had any doubts, they accepted extremely +large fees and said nothing. The real object of the venture +was to dispose of a large collection of rare gems and other +valuables that Demetrius had collected in the course of his +wanderings. Despite the perturbed state of the city, the +worthy pirate had had little difficulty in arranging with certain +wealthy jewellers, who asked no questions, when they bought, +at a very large discount, bargains of a most satisfactory character. +And so it came to pass, by the merest luck, that +the two cousins were thrown together in a crowd, and partly +Agias, through his dim childish recollections of his unfortunate +relative, and partly Demetrius, through memories of his uncle's +boy and the close resemblance of the lad to his father, had +been prompted first to conversation, then to mutual inquiries, +then to recognition. +</p> + +<p> +Demetrius had no intention of leaving Rome for a few days. +Under existing circumstances the chances of his arrest were +not worth considering. His cousin was eager to show him all +the sights; and the freebooter was glad of a little relaxation +from his roving life, glad to forget for an instant that his +country was his squadron, his rights at law were his cutlass. +Moreover, he had taken a vast liking to Agias; deeply dipped +in blood himself, he dared not desire his cousin to join him in +his career of violence—yet he could not part with the bright, +genial lad so hastily. Agias needed no entreaties, therefore, to +induce his cousin to enjoy his hospitality. +</p> + + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p> +Fabia the Vestal was in direful perplexity. Her heart had +gone with Drusus in his flight to Ravenna; she had wished +herself beside him, to be a man, able to fight a man's battles +and win a man's glory. For the first time in her life the quiet +routine of the Temple service brought her no contentment; for +the first time she felt herself bound to a career that could not +satisfy. She was restless and moody. The younger Vestals, +whose attendance on the sacred fire and care of the Temple +she oversaw, wondered at her exacting petulance. Little Livia +brought her aunt to her senses, by asking why she, Fabia, did +not love her any more. The lady summoned all her strength +of character, and resumed her outward placidity. She knew +that Drusus was safe with Cæsar, and exposed only to the +ordinary chances of war. She became more at ease as each +successive messenger came into the city, bearing the tidings of +the Gallic proconsul's advance. Too innocent herself of the +political turmoils of the day to decide upon the merits of the +parties, her hopes and wishes had gone with those of her +nephew; so pure and unquestioning was her belief that he +would espouse only the right. And when the great panic came; +when trembling consulars and pallid magistrates rushed to the +Temple of Vesta to proffer their last hurried vows, before +speeding away to Capua, their refuge; Fabia stood all day +beside the altar, stately, gracious, yet awe-inspiring, the fitting +personification of the benignant Hearth Goddess, who was +above the petty passions of mortals and granted to each an +impartial favour. +</p> + +<p> +Yet Fabia was sorely distressed, and that too on the very +day of the great exodus of the Senate. She had heard for +some time past rumours of the depredations of a certain band +of robbers upon the Sabine and Æquian country. It was said +that a gang of bandits, headed by a gigantic Gaul, had +plundered some farms near Carsioli and infested the mountain +regions round about. Fabia had connected this gang and its +chieftain with Dumnorix and the remnant of his gladiators, +who escaped after their disastrous affray at Præneste. As for +Publius Gabinius, who had on one occasion given her such distress, +nothing had been heard or seen of him since the Præneste +affair. It was generally believed, however, that he was still +with Dumnorix. And a few days before the panic in the city, +Fabia had received a letter. A strange slave had left it at the +Atrium Vestæ, and had gone away without explanations. It +ran thus:— +</p> + +<p> +"To the very noble Vestal, the Lady Fabia, greeting:— +</p> + +<p> +Though I am now so unfortunate as to be barred from the +doors of all law-abiding men, do not imagine this will forever +continue. In the confusion and readjustments of war, and the +calamities of many, the affairs of some, one time enemies of +Fortune, come to a happy issue. Do not say that Mars may +not lead Amor and Hymen in his train. All things come to +them who wait. I wait. Remember the life you spend in the +Temple is no longer obligatory. Be no cage bird who will not +fly out into the sunlight when the door is opened freely. Be +surprised and angry at nothing. <i>Vale</i>." +</p> + +<p> +There was no date, no signature. The hand was distorted, +evidently for disguise. Fabia was in a dilemma. She did not +need to be told that in all probability—though she had no +proof—the writer was Gabinius. She was extremely reluctant +to tell any one of her escape from his clutches in the villa by +the Appian Way. However, some confidant seemed necessary. +She knew that Fonteia, the senior Vestal, the Maxima, would +never treat her other than as a sister, and to her she read the +letter and imparted her story and fears. Fonteia did not +regard the matter in a very serious light. She was herself an +old woman, grown grey in the service of Vesta. She said that +Fabia had been most fortunate to remain in the Temple service +so long as she had and not be harassed by more than one +impious and overbold suitor. The only thing to do was to be +careful and avoid anything that would give false appearances. +As for Fabia's fears that Gabinius would attempt to carry her +away perforce, as he had perhaps treated earlier sweethearts, +Fonteia scoffed at the suggestion. The Atrium Vestæ was in +the heart of the city; there was a constant patrol on duty. +For a man to enter the Building at night meant the death penalty. +Whosoever did violence to a Vestal fell under a religious +curse; he was a <i>homo sacer</i>, a "sacred man," a victim devoted +to the gods, whom it was a pious deed to slay. And thus comforted, +with the assurance that the whole power of the Republic +would rise for her personal defence, Fabia was fain to put +the disquieting letter from her heart. +</p> + +<p> +Then followed the night of panic, and the succeeding day. +There were no longer any magistrates in Rome. The great +palaces of the patricians stood deserted, exposed to the unfaithful +guardianship of freedmen and slaves. The bankers' booths +were closed, the shops did not raise their shutters. On the +streets swarmed the irresponsible and the vicious. Men of +property who had not fled barred their doors and stood guard +with their servants to beat back would-be plunderers. There +were no watchmen at the gates, no courts sitting in the basilicas. +After the great flight of the early morning, Rome was a city +without warders, police, or government. +</p> + +<p> +Fabia did not realize this fact until late in the afternoon, +when she started forth, on foot and unattended, to visit a friend +on the Cælian. The half-deserted streets and barricaded houses +filled her with uneasy tremors. The low, brutish creatures +that she met gave her little heed; but the sight of them, alone +and not offset by any more respectable fellow-strollers, made +her turn back to the Atrium Vestæ. As she hastened on her +way homeward an uneasy sensation haunted her that she was +being followed. She halted, faced about. The street was narrow, +the light was beginning to fade. The figure of a man was +vanishing in the booth of some bold vintner, who had ventured +to risk plunder for the sake of sales. She proceeded. A +moment later a half glance over the shoulder and a straining +of the eyes told her that the stranger was continuing his pursuit. +He kept very close to the side of the buildings. His +face and form were quite lost in shadow. Fabia quickened +her pace; the stranger increased his also, yet made no effort +to cut down the distance between them. The Vestal began to +feel the blood mantling to her cheeks and leaving them again. +She was so near to the Forum and the Atrium Vestæ now that +she could not be overtaken. But why did the stranger follow? +</p> + +<p> +There was a gap in the houses ahead. Through a narrow +alley the dying light was streaming. Fabia passed it, timed +herself, glanced back. For an instant, and only an instant +(for the stranger walked rapidly), the light glared full upon +his face. But Fabia needed to see no more. It was the face +of Publius Gabinius. By a mighty effort she prevented herself +from breaking into a run. She passed into the doorway +of the Atrium Vestæ, and sank upon a divan, shivering with +fright. Recollecting herself, she went to Fonteia and told her +the discovery. The Maxima, however, by that singular fatuity +which sometimes takes possession of the wisest of people,—especially +when the possible danger is one which never in all +their long experience has come to a head,—received her warnings +with blank incredulity. +</p> + +<p> +"You should not go out of the house and Temple," she said, +"until there is some proper policing of the city. No doubt +Gabinius has come back for the sake of riot and plunder, and +having met with you by chance could not resist the temptation +to try to have an interview; but you are in no possible danger +here." +</p> + +<p> +"But, Fonteia," urged the younger Vestal, "I know him to +be a bold, desperate man, who fears not the gods, and who +from the law can expect no mercy. And we in this house are +but weak women folk. Our only defence is our purity and the +reverence of the people. But only the evil wander the streets +to-night; and our virtuous lives make us only the more +attractive prey to such men as Gabinius." +</p> + +<p> +"Fabia," said the other Vestal, severely, "I am older than +you. I have beheld sights you have never seen. I saw the +riots when Saturninus and Glaucia came to their ends; when +Marius was chased from Rome and Sulpicius put to death; +when Marius returned with Cinna; and all the massacres and +strife attending the taking of the city by Sulla. But never +has the name of Vesta been insufficient to protect us from +the violence of the basest or the most godless. Nor will it +now. I will trust in the goddess, and the fear of her, which +protects her maidens against all men. We will sleep to-night +as usual. I will not send anywhere to have guards stationed +around the house and Temple." +</p> + +<p> +Fabia bowed her head. The word of the aged Maxima was +law in the little community. Fabia told herself that Fonteia +was right—not even Gabinius would dare to set unhallowed +foot inside the Atrium Vestæ. But the vision of the coarse, +sensual face of her unloved lover was ever before her. In +ordinary times she would have been tempted to go to one of +the consuls and demand that Fonteia be overruled; but in +ordinary times there would not have been the least need of +adding to the already sufficient city watch. It lacked four +hours of midnight before she brought herself to take her +tablets and write the following brief note:— +</p> + +<p> +"Fabia the Vestal to Agias her good friend, greeting. I am +in some anxiety to-night. Gabinius, Lucius Ahenobarbus's +friend, is in the city. He means, I fear, to work me some +mischief, though the cause whereby I have good reason to +dread him is too long here to write. The Atrium Vestæ has +nothing to protect it to-night—as you well may understand—from +impious, violent men. Can you not guard me overnight? +I do not know how. Gabinius may have all Dumnorix's band +with him. But you alone are equal to an host. I trust you, +as Drusus and Cornelia have trusted you. <i>Vale</i>." +</p> + +<p> +Fabia called one of the young slave-girls who waited on +the Vestals. The relation between servant and mistress, +in the Temple company, was almost ideal in its gentle loyalty. +The slaves were happy in their bondage. +</p> + +<p> +"Erigone," she said, putting the tablets in the girl's hand, +"I am about to ask of you a very brave thing. Do you dare +to take this letter through the city?" and she told her how to +find Agias's lodgings. "Come back in the morning if you +dread a double journey. But do not tell Fonteia; she would +be angry if she knew I sent you, though there is nothing but +what is right in the letter." +</p> + +<p> +"I will carry the tablets to Scythia for you, domina," +replied the girl, kissing the hem of her mistress's robe. "I +know all the streets. If I live, the letter shall be delivered." +</p> + +<p> +"Go by the alleys," enjoined Fabia; "they are safer, for +you will not be seen. Speak to no one. Let none stop +you." +</p> + +<p> +Erigone was gone in the night, and Fabia went to her +chamber. She was reproaching herself for having sent the +letter. Rome by darkness was an evil place for a young maid +to traverse, and never worse than that night. Fabia repeated +to herself that she had committed an act of selfish folly, possibly +sacrificing an implicitly loyal servant to the mere gratification +of a perfectly ungrounded panic. She was undressed +by her other women, and lay down with Livia fast asleep in +her arms; and she kissed the little one again and again before +slumber stole over her. +</p> + + + +<h3>IV</h3> + +<p> +Demetrius had been astonishing his cousin that evening +by the quantity of strong wine he could imbibe without becoming +in the least tipsy. Agias marvelled at the worthy +pirate's capacity and hardness of head, and, fortunately for +his own wits, did not attempt to emulate the other's potations. +Consequently, as the evening advanced, Demetrius +simply became more and more good-natured and talkative, +and Agias more entranced with his cousin's narration of the +Indian voyage. +</p> + +<p> +The younger Greek was about to order his yawning servants +to fill up another <i>krater</i>,<a name="r159" href="#fn159">[159]</a> when the conversation and drinking +were interrupted by the arrival of Erigone. She, poor girl, had +set out bravely enough; but once outside of the Atrium Vestæ +every shadow had been a refuge of cutthroats, every noise the +oncoming of goblins. Fortunately for her, she did not know +the contents of the tablets she carried pressed to her breast, or +she would have been all the more timorous. Once a few half-sober +topers screamed ribald words after her, as she stole past +a low tavern. She had lost her way, in the darkness and +fright, among the alleys; she had dodged into a doorway more +than once to hide from approaching night rovers. But at last +she had reached her destination, and, pale and weary, placed +the letter in Agias's hands. The young Greek read and grew +grave. Even better than Fabia he understood how reckless a +profligate Publius Gabinius might be, and how opportune was +the night for carrying out any deed of darkness. +</p> + +<p> +"Brave girl!" he said, commending Erigone for persevering +on her errand. "But how long ago did you leave your mistress?" +</p> + +<p> +"It was the second hour of the night<a name="r160" href="#fn160">[160]</a> when I started," she +replied. +</p> + +<p> +Agias glanced at the water-clock. +</p> + +<p> +"By Zeus!" he cried, "it is now the fourth hour! You +have been two hours on the way! Immortal gods! What's +to be done? Look here, Demetrius!" +</p> + +<p> +And he thrust the letter before his cousin, and explained its +meaning as rapidly as he could. +</p> + +<p> +Demetrius puffed hard through his nostrils. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Mū! mū!</i> This is bad business. If there were time I could +have twenty as stout men as ever swung sword up from the +yacht and on guard to die for any relative or friend of Sextus +Drusus. But there's not a moment to lose. Have you any +arms?" +</p> + +<p> +Agias dragged two short swords out of a chest. Demetrius +was already throwing on his cloak. +</p> + +<p> +"Those are poor, light weapons," commented the pirate. +"I want my heavy cutlass. But take what the gods send;" +and he girded one about him. "At least, they will cut a +throat. Do you know how to wield them?" +</p> + +<p> +"After a fashion," replied Agias, modestly, making haste +to clasp his pænula. +</p> + +<p> +Leaving Erigone to be cared for by the slaves and sent home +the next morning, the two Greeks hastened from the house. +Agias could hardly keep pace with his cousin's tremendous +stride. Demetrius was like a war-horse, which snuffs the battle +from afar and tugs at the rein to join in the fray. They +plunged through the dark streets. Once a man sprang out +from a doorway before them with a cudgel. He may have +been a footpad; but Demetrius, without pausing in his haste, +smote the fellow between the eyes with a terrible fist, and the +wretched creature dropped without a groan. Demetrius seemed +guided to the Forum and Via Sacra as if by an inborn instinct. +Agias almost ran at his heels. +</p> + +<p> +"How many may this Dumnorix have with him?" shouted +the pirate over his shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +"Perhaps ten, perhaps twenty!" gasped Agias. +</p> + +<p> +"A very pretty number! Some little credit to throttle them," +was his answer; and Demetrius plunged on. +</p> + +<p> +The night was cloudy, there was no moonlight. The cold, +chill wind swept down the Tiber valley, and howled mournfully +among the tall, silent basilicas and temples of the Forum. +The feet of the two Greeks echoed and reechoed as they crossed +the pavement of the enclosure. None addressed them, none +met them. It was as if they walked in a city of the dead. In +the darkness, like weird phantoms, rose the tall columns and +pediments of the deserted buildings. From nowhere twinkled +the ray of lamp. Dim against the sky-line the outlines of the +Capitoline and its shrines were now and then visible, when +the night seemed for an instant to grow less dark. +</p> + +<p> +They were close to the Atrium Vestæ. All was quiet. No +light within, no sound but that of the wind and their own +breathing without. +</p> + +<p> +"We are not too late," whispered Agias. +</p> + +<p> +The two groped their way in among the pillars of the portico +of the <i>Regia,</i><a name="r161" href="#fn161">[161]</a> and crouched down under cover of the masonry, +half sheltered from the chilly blasts. They could from their +post command a tolerably good view of one side of the Atrium +Vestæ. Still the darkness was very great, and they dared not +divide their force by one of them standing watch on the other +side. The moments passed. It was extremely cold. Agias +shivered and wound himself in his mantle. The wine was +making him drowsy, and he felt himself sinking into semiconsciousness, +when a touch on his arm aroused him. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>St!"</i> whispered Demetrius. "I saw a light moving." +</p> + +<p> +Agias stared into the darkness. +</p> + +<p> +"There," continued the pirate, "see, it is a lantern carefully +covered! Only a little glint on the ground now and then. +Some one is creeping along the wall to enter the house of +the Vestals!" +</p> + +<p> +"I see nothing," confessed Agias, rubbing his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"You are no sailor; look harder. I can count four men in +the gloom. They are stealing up to the gate of the building. +Is your sword ready? Now—" +</p> + +<p> +But at this instant Demetrius was cut short by a scream—scream +of mortal terror—from within the Atrium Vestæ. +There were shouts, howls, commands, moans, entreaties, +shrieks. Light after light blazed up in the building; women +rushed panic-struck to the doorway to burst forth into the +night; and at the open portal Agias saw a gigantic figure +with upraised long sword, a Titan, malevolent, destroying, +terrible,—at the sight whereof the women shrank back, +screaming yet the more. +</p> + +<p> +"Dumnorix!" shouted Agias; but before he spoke Demetrius +had leaped forward. +</p> + +<p> +Right past the sword-wielding monster sprang the pirate, +and Agias, all reckless, was at his heels. The twain were in +the atrium of the house. A torch was spluttering and blazing +on the pavement, shedding all around a bright, flickering, red +glare. Young Vestals and maid-servants were cowering on +their knees, or prone on cushions, writhing and screaming with +fear unspeakable. A swart Spanish brigand, with his sabre +gripped in his teeth, was tearing a gold-thread and silk covering +from a pillow; a second plunderer was wrenching from +its chain a silver lamp. Demetrius rushed past these also, +before any could inquire whether he was not a comrade in +infamy. But there were other shouts from the peristylium, +other cries and meanings. As the pirate sprang to the head +of the passage leading to the inner house, a swarm of desperadoes +poured through it, Gauls, Germans, Africans, Italian +renegadoes,—perhaps ten in all,—and in their midst—half +borne, half dragged—something white! +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Io triumphe!</i>" called a voice from the throng, "my bird +will leave her cage!" +</p> + +<p> +"The lady! Gabinius!" cried Agias, and, without waiting +for his cousin, the young Greek flung himself forward. One +stroke of his short sword sent a leering negro prone upon the +pavement; one snatch of his hand seized the white mantle, +and held it—held it though half a dozen blades were flashing +in his face in an eye's twinkling. But the prowess of twenty +men was in the arm of Demetrius; his sword was at once +attacker and shield; with a single sweeping blow he smote +down the guard and cleft the skull of a towering Teuton; with +a lightning dart he caught up the ponderous long sword of the +falling brigand, passed his own shorter weapon to his left +hand, and so fought,—doubly armed,—parrying with his +left and striking with his right. And how he struck! The +whole agile, supple nature of the Greek entered into every +fence. He struck and foiled with his entire body. Now a +bound to one side; now a dart at an opponent's head; fighting +with feet, head, frame, and not with hands only. And +Agias—he fought too, and knew not how he fought! When +a blow was aimed at him, Demetrius always parried it before +he could raise his sword; if he struck, Demetrius had felled +the man first; but he never let go of the white dress, nor +quitted the side of the lady. And presently, he did not know +after how long—for hours make minutes, and minutes hours, +in such a mêlée—there was a moment's silence, and he +saw Publius Gabinius sinking down upon the pavement, the +blood streaming over his cloak; and the brigands, such as +were left of them, scurrying out of the atrium cowed and +panic-struck at the fall of their leader. Then, as he threw +his arms about Fabia, and tried to raise her to her feet, he +saw the giant Dumnorix, with his flail-like sword, rushing +back to the rescue. +</p> + +<p> +Four brigands lay dead in the atrium and none of the others +dared look the redoubtable Greek swordsman in the eyes; but +Dumnorix came on—the incarnation of brute fury. Then +again Demetrius fought,—fought as the angler fights the fish +that he doubts not to land, yet only after due play; and the +Gaul, like some awkward Polyphemus, rushed upon him, +flinging at him barbarous curses in his own tongue, and snorting +and raging like a bull. Thrice the Greek sprang back +before the monster; thrice the giant swung his mighty sword +to cleave his foeman down, and cut the empty air; but at the +fourth onset the Hellene smote the ex-lanista once across the +neck, and the great eyes rolled, and the panting stopped, and +the mighty Gaul lay silent in a spreading pool of blood. +</p> + +<p> +Already there were shouts and cries in the Forum. Torches +were dancing hither and thither. The slave-maids of the +Vestals ran down the Via Sacra shrieking and calling for aid. +Out from the dark tenements rushed the people. The thieves +ran from their lairs; the late drinkers sprang from their wine. +And when the wretched remnants of Dumnorix's band of +ex-gladiators and brigands strove to flee from the holy house +they had polluted, a hundred hands were put forth against +each one, and they were torn to pieces by the frenzied mob. +Into the Atrium Vestæ swarmed the people, howling, shouting, +praising the goddess, fighting one another—every man imagining +his neighbour a cutthroat and abductor. +</p> + +<p> +Agias stood bearing up Fabia in his arms; she was pale as +the driven snow. Her lips moved, but no sound passed from +them. Fonteia, the old Maxima, with her white hair tumbling +over her shoulders, was still huddled in one corner, groaning +and moaning in a paroxysm of unreasoning terror, without dignity +or self-control. A frightened maid had touched the torch +to the tall candelabra, and the room blazed with a score of +lights; while in at the doorway pressed the multitude—the +mob of low tapsters, brutal butchers, coarse pedlers, and +drunkards just staggering from their cups. The scene was +one of pandemonium. Dumnorix lay prone on a costly rug, +whose graceful patterns were being dyed to a hideous crimson; +over one divan lay a brigand—struggling in the last agony +of a mortal wound. Three comrades lay stretched stiff and +motionless on the floor. Gory swords and daggers were strewn +all over the atrium; the presses of costly wood had been torn +open, their contents scattered across the room. There was +blood on the frescoes, blood on the marble feet of the magnificent +Diomedes, which stood rigid in cold majesty on its +pedestal, dominating the wreck below. +</p> + +<p> +Agias with Fabia stood at the end of the atrium near the +exit to the peristylium. Demetrius, seemingly hardly breathed +by his exertions, leaned on his captured long sword at his +cousin's side. The multitude, for an instant, as they saw the +ruin and slaughter, drew back with a hush. Men turned away +their faces as from a sight of evil omen. Who were they to +set foot in the mansion of the servants of the awful Vesta? +But others from behind, who saw and heard nothing, pressed +their fellows forward. The mob swept on. As with one consent +all eyes were riveted on Fabia. What had happened? +Who was guilty? Why had these men of violence done this +wrong to the home of the hearth goddess? And then out of a +farther corner, while yet the people hesitated from reverence, +staggered a figure, its face streaming with blood, its hands +pressing its side. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Quirites</i>," cried a voice, the voice of one speaking with but +one remaining breath, "ye have rewarded me as the law +demands; see that <i>she</i>" and a bloody forefinger pointed at +Fabia, "who led me to this deed, is not unpunished. <i>She</i> is +the more guilty!" +</p> + +<p> +And with a groan the figure fell like a statue of wood to the +pavement; fell heavily, and lay stirring not, neither giving any +sound. In his last moment Publius Gabinius had sought a +terrible revenge. +</p> + +<p> +And then madness seized on the people. +</p> + +<p> +"She is his sweetheart! She is his paramour!" cried a +score of filthy voices. "She has brought down this insult to +the goddess! There is no pontifex here to try her! Tear her +in pieces! Strike! Slay!" +</p> + +<p> +But Demetrius had turned to his cousin. +</p> + +<p> +"Agias," he said, making himself heard despite the clamour, +"do you believe the charge of that man?" +</p> + +<p> +"No villain ever would avenge himself more basely." +</p> + +<p> +"Then at all costs we must save the lady." +</p> + +<p> +It was time. A fat butcher, flourishing a heavy cleaver, had +leaped forward; Fabia saw him with glassy, frightened eyes, +but neither shrieked nor drew back. But Demetrius smote the +man with his long sword through the body, and the brute +dropped the cleaver as he fell. +</p> + +<p> +"Now," and Demetrius seized the Vestal around the waist, +as lightly as a girl would raise a kitten, and flung her across +his shoulders. One stride and he was in the passage leading +to the peristylium; and before the mob could follow Agias had +dashed the door in their faces, and shot the bolt. +</p> + +<p> +"It will hold them back a moment," muttered Demetrius, +"but we must hasten." +</p> + +<p> +They ran across the peristylium, the pirate chief with his +burden no less swift than Agias. The door to the rear street +was flung open, and they were out in a narrow alleyway. Just +as they did so, a howl of many voices proclaimed that the peristylium +door had yielded. +</p> + +<p> +"Guide me by the straightest way," commanded the sea +rover. +</p> + +<p> +"Where?" was Agias's question. +</p> + +<p> +"To the wharves. The yacht is the only safe place for the +lady. There I will teach her how I can honour a friend of +Sextus Drusus." +</p> + +<p> +Agias felt that it was no time for expostulation. A Vestal +Virgin take refuge on a pirate ship! But it was a matter of +life and death now, and there was no time for forming another +plan. Once let the mob overtake them, and the lives of all +three were not worth a sesterce. Agias found it necessary to +keep himself collected while he ran, or he would lose the way +in the maze of streets. The yacht was moored far below the +Pons Sublicius, and the whole way was full of peril. It was +no use to turn off into alleys and by-paths; to do so at night +meant to be involved in a labyrinth as deadly for them as that +of the Cretan Minos. The mob was on their heels, howling, +raging. The people were beginning to wake in their houses +along the streets. Men bawled "Stop thief!" from the windows, +imagining there had been a robbery. Once two or three +figures actually swung out into the way before them, but at a +stray glint of lantern light falling on Demetrius's naked long +sword, they vanished in the gloom. But still the mob pressed +on, ever gaining accessions, ever howling the more fiercely. +Agias realized that the weight of his burden was beginning to +tell on even the iron frame of his cousin. The pursuers and +pursued were drawing closer together. The mob was ever +reenforced by relays; the handicap on Demetrius was too +great. They had passed down the Vicus Tuscus, flown past +the dark shadow of the lower end of the Circus Maximus. At +the Porta Trigemina the unguarded portal had stood open; +there was none to stop them. They passed by the Pons Sublicius, +and skirted the Aventine. Stones and billets of wood +began to whistle past their ears,—the missiles of the on-rushing +multitude. At last the wharves! Out in the darkness +stood the huge bulk of a Spanish lumberman; but there was no +refuge there. The grain wharves and the oil wharves were +passed; the sniff of the mackerel fisher, the faint odour from +the great Alexandrian merchantman loaded with the spices of +India, were come and gone. A stone struck Agias in the +shoulder, he felt numb in one arm, to drag his feet was a +burden; the flight with the Cæsarians to the Janiculum had +not been like to this,—death at the naked sword had been at +least in store then, and now to be plucked in pieces by a mob! +Another stone brushed forward his hair and dashed, not against +Demetrius ahead, but against his burden. There was—Agias +could hear—a low moan; but at the same instant the fleeing +pirate uttered a whistle so loud, so piercing, that the foremost +pursuers came to a momentary stand, in half-defined fright, +In an instant there came an answering whistle from the wharf +just ahead. In a twinkling half a dozen torches had flashed +out all over a small vessel, now barely visible in the night, at +one of the mooring rings. There was a strange jargon of voices +calling in some Oriental tongue; and Demetrius, as he ran, +answered them in a like language. Then over Agias's head +and into the thick press of the mob behind, something—arrows +no doubt—flew whistling; and there were groans and cries of +pain. And Agias found uncouth, bearded men helping or +rather casting him over the side of the vessel. The yacht +was alive with men: some were bounding ashore to loose the +hawsers, others were lifting ponderous oars, still more were +shooting fast and cruelly in the direction of the mob, while +its luckless leaders struggled to turn in flight, and the multitude +behind, ignorant of the slaughter, was forcing them on to +death. Above the clamour, the howls of the mob, the shouts +of the sailors, the grating of oars, and the creaking of cables, +rang the voice of Demetrius; and at his word a dozen ready +hands put each command into action. The narrow, easy-moving +yacht caught the current; a long tier of white oars glinted +in the torchlight, smote the water, and the yacht bounded +away, while a parting flight of arrows left misery and death +upon the quay. +</p> + +<p> +Agias, sorely bewildered, clambered on to the little poop. +His cousin stood grasping one of the steering paddles; the +ruddy lantern light gleamed on the pirate's frame and face, +and made him the perfect personification of a sea-king; he +was some grandly stern Poseidon, the "Storm-gatherer" and +the "Earth-shaker." When he spoke to Agias, it was in the +tone of a despot to a subject. +</p> + +<p> +"The lady is below. Go to her. You are to care for her until +I rejoin my fleet. Tell her my sister shall not be more honoured +than she, nor otherwise treated. When I am aboard my +flag-ship, she shall have proper maids and attendance. Go!" +</p> + +<p> +Agias obeyed, saying nothing. He found Fabia lying on a +rude pallet, with a small bale of purple silk thrust under her +head for a pillow. She stared at him with wild, frightened +eyes, then round the little cabin, which, while bereft of all +but the most necessary comforts, was decorated with bejeweled +armour, golden lamps, costly Indian tapestries and ivory—the +trophies of half a score of voyages. +</p> + +<p> +"Agias," she faintly whispered, "tell me what has happened +since I awoke from my sleep and found Gabinius's ruffians +about me. By whatsoever god you reverence most, speak +truly!" +</p> + +<p> +Agias fell on his knees, kissed the hem of her robe, kissed +her hands. Then he told her all,—as well as his own sorely +confused wits would admit. Fabia heard him through to the +end, then laid her face between her hands. +</p> + +<p> +"Would that—would that they had murdered me as they +wished! It would be all over now," she agonized. "I have +no wish again to see the light. Whether they believe me +innocent or guilty of the charge is little; I can never be happy +again." +</p> + +<p> +"And why not, dear lady?" cried Agias. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't ask me! I do not know. I do not know anything! +Leave me! It is not fit that you should see me crying like a +child. Leave me! Leave me!" +</p> + +<p> +And thus conjured, Agias went up to the poop once more. +</p> + +<p> +The yacht was flying down the current under her powerful +oarage. Demetrius was still standing with his hands fixed on +the steering paddle; his gaze was drifting along in the plashing +water. The shadowy outlines of the great city had vanished; +the yacht was well on her way down the river to Ostia. Save +for the need to avoid a belated merchantman anchored in midstream +for the night, there was little requiring the master's +skill. Agias told his cousin how Fabia had sent him away. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>A!</i> Poor lady!" replied the pirate, "perhaps she was the +Vestal I saw a few days since, and envied her, to see the consuls' +lictors lowering their rods to her, and all the people +making way before her; she, protected by the whole might of +this terrible Roman people, and honoured by them all; and I, +a poor outlaw, massing gold whereof I have no need, slaying +men when I would be their friend, with only an open sea and +a few planks for native land. And now, see how the Fates +bring her down so low, that at my hands she receives hospitality, +nay, life!" +</p> + +<p> +"You did not seem so very loath to shed blood to-night," +commented Agias, dryly. +</p> + +<p> +"No, by Zeus!" was his frank answer. "It is easy to send +men over the Styx after having been Charon's substitute for so +many years. But the trade was not pleasant to learn, and, +bless the gods, you may not have to be apprenticed to it." +</p> + +<p> +"Then you will not take me with you in your rover's life?" +asked Agias, half-disappointedly. +</p> + +<p> +"Apollo forbid! I will take you and the lady to some place +where she can be safe until she may return vindicated, and +where you can earn an honest livelihood, marry a wife of +station, in accordance with the means which I shall give you, +dwell peaceably, and be happy." +</p> + +<p> +"But I cannot accept your present," protested the younger +Greek. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Phui!</i> What use have I of money? To paraphrase +Æschylus: 'For more of money than I would is mine.' I +can't eat it, or beat swords out of gold, or repair my ships +therewith." +</p> + +<p> +"Then why amass it at all?" +</p> + +<p> +"Why drink when you know it is better to keep sober? I +can no more stop plundering than a toper leave a wine-jar. +Besides, perhaps some day I may see a road to amnesty open,—and, +then, what will not money do for a man or woman?" +</p> + +<p> +"Quintus Drusus, my patron, the Lady Cornelia, and the +Lady Fabia all are rich. But I would not take up their +sorrows for all their wealth." +</p> + +<p> +"True," and Demetrius stared down into the inky water. +"It will not give back those who are gone forever. Achilles +could ask Hephæstus for his armour, but he could not put +breath into the body of Patroclus. <i>Plutus</i> and <i>Cratus</i><a name="r162" href="#fn162">[162]</a> are, +after all, but weaklings. <i>A!</i> This is an unequal world!" +</p> + +<p> +When Agias fell asleep that night, or rather that morning, +on a hard seaman's pallet, two names were stirring in his heart, +names inextricably connected: Cornelia, whom he had promised +Quintus Drusus to save from Ahenobarbus's clutches, and Artemisia. +In the morning the yacht, having run her sixteen +miles to Ostia, stood out to sea, naught hindering. +</p> + + +<hr /> + +<p> +It was two months later when Quintus Drusus reentered +Rome, no more a fugitive, but a trusted staff officer of the +lawfully appointed dictator Julius Cæsar. He had taken part +in a desperate struggle around Corfinium, where his general +had cut off and captured the army with which Domitius had +aimed to check his advance. Drusus had been severely +wounded, and had not recovered in time to participate in the +futile siege of Brundusium, when Cæsar vainly strove to prevent +Pompeius's flight across the sea to Greece. Soon as he +was convalescent, the young officer had hurried away to Rome; +and there he was met by a story concerning his aunt, whereof +no rational explanation seemed possible. And when, upon +this mystery, was added a tale he received from Baiæ, he +marvelled, yet dreaded, the more. +</p> + + + + +<h2 id="ch19">CHAPTER XIX</h2> + +<h2>THE HOSPITALITY OF DEMETRIUS</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p> +While grave senators were contending, tribunes haranguing, +imperators girding on the sword, legions marching, cohorts +clashing,—while all this history was being made in the outside +world, Cornelia, very desolate, very lonely, was enduring her +imprisonment at Baiæ. +</p> + +<p> +If she had had manacles on her wrists and fetters on her +feet, she would not have been the more a prisoner. Lentulus +Crus had determined, with the same grim tenacity of purpose +which led him to plunge a world into war, that his niece should +comply with his will and marry Lucius Ahenobarbus. He sent +down to Baiæ, Phaon,—the evil-eyed freedman of Ahenobarbus,—and +gave to that worthy full power to do anything he +wished to break the will of his prospective patroness. Cassandra +had been taken away from Cornelia—she could not learn +so much as whether the woman had been scourged to death for +arranging the interview with Drusus, or no. Two ill-favoured +slatternly Gallic maids, the scourings of the Puteoli slave-market, +had been forced upon Cornelia as her attendants—creatures +who stood in abject fear of the whip of Phaon, and +who obeyed his mandates to the letter. Cornelia was never out +of sight of some person whom she knew was devoted to Lentulus, +or rather to Phaon and his patron. She received no letters +save those from her mother, uncle, or Ahenobarbus; she saw no +visitors; she was not allowed to go outside of the walls of the +villa, nor indeed upon any of its terraces where she would be exposed +to sight from without, whether by land or sea. At every +step, at every motion, she was confronted with the barriers +built around her, and by the consciousness that, so long as she +persisted in her present attitude, her durance was likely to +continue unrelaxed. +</p> + +<p> +Cornelia was thirsty for the news from the world without. +Her keepers were dumb to the most harmless inquiry. Her +mother wrote more of the latest fashions than of the progress +of events in the Senate and in the field; besides, Claudia—as +Cornelia knew very well—never took her political notions from +any one except her brother-in-law, and Cornelia noted her +mother's rambling observations accordingly. Lentulus studiously +refrained from adverting to politics in letters to his niece. +Ahenobarbus wrote of wars and rumours of wars, but in a tone +of such partisan venom and overreaching sarcasm touching all +things Cæsarian, that Cornelia did not need her prejudices to +tell her that Lucius was simply abusing her credulity. +</p> + +<p> +Then at last all the letters stopped. Phaon had no explanation +to give. He would not suffer his evil, smiling lips to tell +the story of the flight of the oligarchs from Rome, and confess +that Lentulus and Claudia were no farther off than Capua. +The consul had ordered that his niece should not know of +their proximity and its cause,—lest she pluck up hope, and +all his coercion be wasted. So there was silence, and that was +all. Even her mother did not write to her. Cornelia grew +very, very lonely and desolate—more than words may tell. +She had one consolation—Drusus was not dead, or she would +have been informed of it! Proof that her lover was dead +would have been a most delightful weapon in Lentulus's hands, +too delightful to fail to use instantly. And so Cornelia +hoped on. +</p> + +<p> +She tried again to build a world of fantasy, of unreal delight, +around her; to close her eyes, and wander abroad with +her imagination. She roamed in reverie over land and sea, +from Atlantis to Serica; and dwelt in the dull country of +the Hyperboreans and saw the gold-sanded plains of the Ethiops. +She took her Homer and fared with Odysseus into +Polyphemus's cave, and out to the land of Circe; and heard the +Sirens sing, and abode on Calypso's fairy isle; and saw the +maiden Nausicaä and her maids at the ball-play on the marge +of the stream. But it was sorry work; for ever and again the +dream-woven mist would break, and the present—stern, +unchanging, joyless—she would see, and that only. +</p> + +<p> +Cornelia was thrown more and more back on her books. In +fact, had she been deprived of that diversion, she must have +succumbed in sheer wretchedness; but Phaon, for all his crafty +guile, did not realize that a roll of Æschylus did almost as +much to undo his jailer's work as a traitor among his underlings. +</p> + +<p> +The library was a capacious, well-lighted room, prettily frescoed, +and provided with comfortably upholstered couches. In +the niches were a few choice busts: a Sophocles, a Xenophon, +an Ennius, and one or two others. Around the room in wooden +presses were the rolled volumes on Egyptian papyrus, each +labelled with author and title in bright red marked on the +tablet attached to the cylinder of the roll. Here were the +poets and historians of Hellas; the works of Plato, Aristotle, +Callimachus, Apollonius Rhodius and the later Greek philosophers. +Here, too, were books which the Greek-hating young +lady loved best of all—the rough metres of Livius Andronicus +and Cnæus Nævius, whose uncouth lines of the old Saturnian +verse breathed of the hale, hearty, uncultured, uncorrupted life of +the period of the First Punic War. Beside them were the other +great Latinists: Ennius, Plautus, Terence, and furthermore, +Pacuvius and Cato Major, Lucilius, the memoirs of Sulla, the +orations of Antonius "the orator" and Gracchus, and the histories +of Claudius Quadrigarius and Valerius Antias. +</p> + +<p> +The library became virtually Cornelia's prison. She read +tragedy, comedy, history, philosophy,—anything to drive from +her breast her arch enemy, thought. But if, for example, she +turned to Apollonius Rhodius and read— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +"Amidst them all, the son of Æson chief<br /> +Shone forth divinely in his comeliness,<br /> +And graces of his form. On him the maid<br /> +Looked still askance, and gazed him o'er;"<a name="r163" href="#fn163">[163]</a> +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +straightway she herself became Medea, Jason took on the form +of Drusus, and she would read no more; "while," as the +next line of the learned poet had it, "grief consumed her +heart." +</p> + +<p> +Only one other recreation was left her. Artemisia had not +been taken away by Phaon, who decided that the girl was quite +impotent to thwart his ends. Cornelia devoted much of her +time to teaching the bright little Greek. The latter picked up +the scraps of knowledge with a surprising readiness, and would +set Cornelia a-laughing by her <i>naïveté</i>, when she soberly intermixed +her speech with bits of grave poetical and philosophical +lore, uttered more for sake of sound than sense. +</p> + +<p> +As a matter of fact, however, Cornelia was fast approaching +a point where her position would have been intolerable. She +did not even have the stimulus that comes from an active +aggressive persecution. Drusus was in the world of action, +not forgetful of his sweetheart, yet not pent up to solitary +broodings on his ill-fated passion. Cornelia was thrust back +upon herself, and found herself a very discontented, wretched, +love-lorn, and withal—despite her polite learning—ignorant +young woman, who took pleasure neither in sunlight nor starlight; +who saw a mocking defiance in every dimple of the +sapphire bay; who saw in each new day merely a new period +for impotent discontent. Something had to determine her situation, +or perhaps she would not indeed have bowed her head to +her uncle's will; but she certainly would have been driven to +resolutions of the most desperate nature. +</p> + +<p> +Cornelia had practically lost reckoning of time and seasons. +She had ceased hoping for a letter from her mother; even a +taunting missive from Ahenobarbus would have been a diversion. +She was so closely guarded that she found herself praying that +Drusus would not try to steal a second interview, for the attempt +might end in his murder. Only one stray crumb of comfort at +last did she obtain, and it was Artemisia who brought it to +her. The girl had been allowed by Phaon to walk outside the +grounds of the villa for a little way, and her pretty face had +won the good graces of one or two slave-boys in an adjoining +seaside house. Artemisia came back full of news which they +had imparted: the consuls had fled from Rome; Pompeius +was retreating before Cæsar; the latest rumour had it that +Domitius was shut up in Corfinium and likely to come off +hardly. +</p> + +<p> +The words were precious as rubies to Cornelia. She went +all that day and the next with her head in the air. Perhaps +with a lover's subtle omniscience she imagined that it was +Drusus who had some part in bringing Domitius to bay. She +pictured the hour when he—with a legion no doubt at his +back—would come to Baiæ, not a stealthy, forbidden lover, +but a conqueror, splendid in the triumph of his arms; would +enter the villa with a strong hand, and lead her forth in the +eyes of all the world—his wife! and then back to Præneste, +to Rome—happy as the Immortals on Olympus; and what +came after, Cornelia neither thought nor cared. +</p> + +<p> +On those days the sea was lovely, the sunlight fair, and all +the circling sea-gulls as they hovered over the waves cried +shrilly one to the other; "How good is all the world!" And +then, just as Cornelia was beginning to count the hours,—to +wonder whether it would be one day or ten before Drusus +would be sufficiently at liberty to ride over hill and dale to +Baiæ,—Phaon thrust himself upon her. +</p> + +<p> +"Your ladyship," was his curt statement, "will have all +things prepared in readiness to take ship for Greece, to-morrow +morning." +</p> + +<p> +"For Greece!" was the agonized exclamation. +</p> + +<p> +"Certainly; it is useless to conceal matters from your ladyship +now. Cæsar has swept all Italy. Corfinium may fall at +any time. His excellency the consul Lentulus is now at +Brundusium. He orders me to put you on board a vessel that +has just finished her lading for the Piræus." +</p> + +<p> +This then was the end of all those glittering day-dreams! +Cæsar's victories only would transfer Cornelia to a more secure +bondage. She had enough pride left not to moan aloud and +plead with an animal like Phaon not to crush her utterly. In +fact she was benumbed, and did not fully sense the changed +situation. She went through a mechanical process of collecting +her wardrobe, of putting her jewellery in cases and boxes, +of laying aside for carriage a few necessaries for Artemisia. +Phaon, who had expected a terrible scene when he made his +announcement, observed to himself that, "The domina is more +sensible than I supposed. I think her uncle will have his +way now soon enough, if Master Lucius does not get his throat +cut at Corfinium." And having thus concluded to himself,—satisfactorily, +if erroneously,—he, too, made arrangements for +the voyage impending. +</p> + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p> +Cornelia's sleeping room was large and airy. It had windows +overlooking the sea—windows closed by the then extravagant +luxury of panes of glass. When these were swung back +the full sweep of the southwest wind poured its mild freshness +into the room. The apartment was decorated and furnished +with every taste and luxury. In one corner was the occupant's +couch,—the frame inlaid with ivory and tortoise-shell, the +mattress soft with the very choicest feathers of white German +geese. Heaped on the cushion were gorgeous coverlets, of +purple wool or even silk, and embroidered with elaborate figures, +or covered with rare feather tapestry. Around the room +were silver mirrors, chairs, divans, cabinets, dressers, and elegant +tripods. +</p> + +<p> +On one of the divans slept Artemisia, and just outside of +the door one of the Gallic maids, whom Cornelia detested so +heartily. +</p> + +<p> +When Artemisia's curly head touched her pillow, its owner +was fast asleep in an instant. When her patroness sank back +on the cushions worth a king's ransom, Somnus, Hypnus, or +whatever name the drowsy god may be called by, was far from +present. Cornelia tossed on the pillows, tossed and cried +softly to herself. The battle was too hard! She had tried: +tried to be true to Drusus and her own higher aspirations. But +there was some limit to her strength, and Cornelia felt that +limit very near at hand. Earlier in the conflict with her uncle +she had exulted in the idea that suicide was always in her +power; now she trembled at the thought of death, at the +thought of everything contained in the unlovely future. She +did not want to die, to flicker out in nothingness, never to +smile and never to laugh again. Why should she not be happy—rightly +happy? Was she not a Cornelian, a Claudian, born to +a position that a princess might enjoy? Was not wealth hers, +and a fair degree of wit and a handsome face? Why then +should she, the patrician maiden, eat her heart out, while close +at hand Artemisia, poor little foundling Greek, was sleeping +as sweetly as though people never grieved nor sorrows tore the +soul? +</p> + +<p> +Cornelia was almost angry with Artemisia for being thus +oblivious to and shielded from calamity. So hot in fact did her +indignation become against the innocent girl, that Cornelia herself +began to smile at her own passion. And there was one +thought very comforting to her pride. +</p> + +<p> +"Artemisia is only an uneducated slave, or little better than +a slave; if she were in my station she would be just as +unhappy. I am wretched just in proportion to the greatness +of my rank;" then she added to herself, "<i>Hei!</i> but how +wretched then the gods must be!" And then again she +smiled at admitting for an instant that there were any gods at +all; had not her philosophy taught her much better? +</p> + +<p> +So at last Cornelia turned over the pillows for the last time, +and finally slept, in heavy, dreamless slumber. +</p> + + +<hr /> + +<p> +Cornelia did not know at what watch of the night she awoke; +awoke, not suddenly, but slowly, as consciousness stole over her +that <i>something</i> was happening. It was a dark, cloudy night, +yet a strange red light was glinting faintly through the windows +and making very dim panels on the rugs of the floor. +There was a bare gleam of fire from the charcoal in the portable +metal stove that stood in a remote corner of the room to +dispel the chill of night. Artemisia was stirring in her sleep, +and saying something—probably in a one-sided dream-dialogue. +Cornelia opened her eyes, shut them again; peeped +forth a second time, and sat up in bed. There was a confused +din without, many voices speaking at once, all quite unintelligible, +though now and then she caught a few syllables of +Greek. The din grew louder and louder. At the same time, +as if directly connected with the babel, the strange light flamed +up more brightly—as if from many advancing torches. Cornelia +shook the sleep from her eyes, and flung back the coverlets. +What was it? She had not yet reached the stage of +feeling any terror. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly, drowning all lesser noise, came the blows of a heavy +timber beating on the main door of the villa. +</p> + +<p> +Crash! and with the stroke, a torrent of wild shouts, oaths, +and imprecations burst forth from many score throats. +</p> + +<p> +Crash! The slaves sleeping near the front door began to +howl and shout. The great Molossian hound that stood watch +was barking and snapping. The Gallic maid sprang from her +pallet by Cornelia's door, and gave a shrill, piercing scream. +Artemisia was sitting up on her bed, rubbing her eyes, blinking +at the strange light, and about to begin to cry. Cornelia +ran over the floor to her. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>A! A!</i> what is going to happen!" whimpered the girl. +</p> + +<p> +"I do not know, <i>philotata</i>"<a name="r164" href="#fn164">[164]</a> said Cornelia in Greek, putting +her hand on Artemisia's cheek; "but don't cry, and I'll soon +find out." +</p> + +<p> +Crash! and at this the door could be heard to fall inward. +Then, with yells of triumph and passion, there was a great +sweep of feet over the threshold, and the clang of weapons and +armour. Cornelia found herself beginning to tremble. As she +stepped across the room, she passed before her largest mirror, +whereon the outside light was shining directly. She saw herself +for an instant; her hair streaming down her back, her only dress +her loose white tunic, her arms bare, and nothing on her throat +except a string of yellow amber beads. "And my feet are +bare," she added to herself, diverted from her panic by her +womanly embarrassment. She advanced toward the door, but +had not long to wait. Down below the invaders had burst loose +in wild pillage, then up into the sleeping room came flying +a man—Phaon, his teeth chattering, his face ghastly with +fright. +</p> + +<p> +"Domina! domina!" and he knelt and seized Cornelia's +robe. "Save, <i>A!</i> save! We are undone! Pirates! They +will kill us all! <i>Mu! mu!</i> don't let them murder me!" +</p> + +<p> +A moment longer and Cornelia, in her rising contempt, +would have spurned him with her foot. There were more +feet on the stairway. Glaring torches were tossing over gold +inlaid armour. A man of unusual height and physique strode +at the head of the oncomers, clutching and dragging by the +wrist a quivering slave-boy. +</p> + +<p> +"Your mistress, boy! where is she? Point quickly, if you +would not die!" cried the invader, whom we shall at once +recognize as Demetrius. +</p> + +<p> +Cornelia advanced to the doorway, and stood in her maidenly +dignity, confronting the pirates, who fell back a step, as +though before an apparition. +</p> + +<p> +"I am the Lady Cornelia, mistress of the villa," she said +slowly, speaking in tones of high command. "On what +errand do you come thus unseasonably, and with violence?" +</p> + +<p> +Whereat, out from the little group of armed men sprang +one clad in costly, jewel-set armour, like the rest, but shorter +than the others, and with fair hair flowing down from his +helmet on to his shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +"Domina, do you not know me? Do not be afraid." +</p> + +<p> +"Agias!" cried Cornelia, in turn giving back a step. +</p> + +<p> +"Assuredly," quoth the young Hellene, nothing dismayed; +"and with your leave, this great man is Demetrius, my cousin, +whose trade, perchance, is a little irregular, but who has come +hither not so much to plunder as to save you from the clutches +of his arch-enemy's son, Lucius Ahenobarbus." +</p> + +<p> +Cornelia staggered, and caught the curtain in the doorway +to keep from falling. +</p> + +<p> +"Has Master Drusus sent him to me?" she asked, very +pale around the lips. +</p> + +<p> +"Master Drusus is at Corfinium. No one knows what will +be the issue of the war, for Pompeius is making off. It is I +who counselled my cousin to come to Baiæ." +</p> + +<p> +"Then what will you do with me? How may I dare to +trust you? Deliver myself into the hands of pirates! Ah! +Agias, I did not think that <i>you</i> would turn to such a trade!" +</p> + +<p> +The youth flushed visibly, even under the ruddy torchlight. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, lady," he cried, "have I not always been true to +you? I am no pirate, and you will not blame my cousin, +when you have heard his story. But do not fear us. Come +down to the ship—Fabia is there, waiting for you." +</p> + +<p> +"Fabia!" and again Cornelia was startled. Then, fixing +her deep gaze full on Agias, "I believe you speak the truth. +If not you—whom? Take—take me!" +</p> + +<p> +And she fell forward in a swoon, and Demetrius caught her +in his powerful arms. +</p> + +<p> +"This is the affianced wife of Quintus Drusus?" he cried +to Agias. +</p> + +<p> +"None other." +</p> + +<p> +"She is worthy of Sextus's son. A right brave lady!" +cried the pirate. "But this is no place for her, poor thing. +Here, Eurybiades," and he addressed a lieutenant,—an athletic, +handsome Hellene like himself,—"carry the lady down +to the landing, put her on the trireme, and give her to Madam +Fabia. Mind you lift her gently." +</p> + +<p> +"Never fear," replied the other, picking up his burden carefully. +"Who would not delight to bear Aphrodite to the +arms of Artemis!" +</p> + +<p> +And so for a while sight, sound, and feeling were at an end +for Cornelia, but for Agias the adventures of the evening were +but just begun. The pirates had broken loose in the villa, +and Demetrius made not the slightest effort to restrain them. +On into the deserted bedroom, ahead of the others, for reasons +of his own, rushed Agias. As he came in, some one cried out +his name, and a second vision in white confronted him. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Ai! ai!</i> Agias, I knew you would come!" and then and +there, with the sword-blades glinting, and the armed men all +around, Artemisia tossed her plump arms around his neck. +</p> + +<p> +"The nymph, attendant on Aphrodite!" cried Demetrius, +laughing. And then, when Artemisia saw the strange throng +and the torches, and heard the din over the villa, she hung +down her head in mingled fear and mortification. But Agias +whispered something in her ear, that made her lift her face, +laughing, and then he in turn caught her up in his arms to +hasten down to the landing—for the scene was becoming one +of little profit for a maid. Groans and entreaties checked +him. Two powerful Phoenician seamen were dragging forward +Phaon, half clothed, trembling at every joint. "Mercy! +Mercy! Oh! Master Agias, oh! Your excellency, <i>clarissime</i>,<a name="r165" href="#fn165">[165]</a> +<i>despotes!</i><a name="r166" href="#fn166">[166]</a>" whined the wretched man, now in Latin, now +in Greek, "ask them to spare me; don't let them murder me +in cold blood!" +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Ai!</i>" cried Demetrius. "What fool have we here? Do +you know him, Agias?" +</p> + +<p> +"He is the freedman of Lucius Ahenobarbus. I can vouch +for his character, after its way." +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Ō-op!</i>"<a name="r167" href="#fn167">[167]</a> thundered the chief, "drag him down to the +boats! I'll speak with him later!" +</p> + +<p> +And Agias carried his precious burden down to the landing-place, +while the seamen followed with their captive. +</p> + +<p> +Once Artemisia safe on her way to the trireme, which was a +little off shore, Agias ran back to the villa; the pirates were +ransacking it thoroughly. Everything that could be of the +slightest value was ruthlessly seized upon, everything else +recklessly destroyed. The pirates had not confined their +attack to the Lentulan residence alone. Rushing down upon +the no less elaborate neighbouring villas, they forced in the +gates, overcame what slight opposition the trembling slaves +might make, and gave full sway to their passion for plunder +and rapine. The noble ladies and fine gentlemen who had +dared the political situation and lingered late in the season to +enjoy the pleasures of Baiæ, now found themselves roughly +dragged away into captivity to enrich the freebooters by their +ransoms. From pillage the pirates turned to arson, Demetrius +in fact making no effort to control his men. First a fragile +wooden summer-house caught the blaze of a torch and +flared up; then a villa itself, and another and another. The +flames shot higher and higher, great glowing, wavering pyramids +of heat, roaring and crackling, flinging a red circle of +glowing light in toward the mainland by Cumæ, and shimmering +out over the bay toward Prochyta. Overhead was the +inky dome of the heavens, and below fire; fire, and men with +passions unreined. +</p> + +<p> +Demetrius stood on the terrace of the burning villa of the +Lentuli, barely himself out of range of the raging heat. As +Agias came near to him, the gilded Medusa head emblazoned +on his breastplate glared out; the loose scarlet mantle he +wore under his armour was red as if dipped in hot blood; he +seemed the personification of Ares, the destroyer, the waster of +cities. The pirate was gazing fixedly on the blazing wreck +and ruin. His firm lips were set with an expression grave +and hard. He took no part in the annihilating frenzy of his +men. +</p> + +<p> +"This is terrible destruction!" cried Agias in his ear, for +the roar of the flames was deafening, he himself beginning to +turn sick at the sight of the ruin. +</p> + +<p> +"It is frightful," replied Demetrius, gloomily; "why did the +gods ever drive me to this? My men are but children to exult +as they do; as boys love to tear the thatch from the roof of a +useless hovel, in sheer wantonness. I cannot restrain them." +</p> + +<p> +At this instant a seaman rushed up in breathless haste. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Eleleu!</i> Captain, the soldiers are on us. There must have +been a cohort in Cumæ." +</p> + +<p> +Whereat the voice of Demetrius rang above the shouts of +the plunderers and the crash and roar of the conflagration, like +a trumpet:— +</p> + +<p> +"Arms, men! Gather the spoil and back to the ships! +Back for your lives!" +</p> + +<p> +Already the cohort of Pompeian troops, that had not yet +evacuated Cumæ, was coming up on the double-quick, easily +guided by the burning buildings which made the vicinity +bright as day. The pirates ran like cats out of the blazing +villas, bounded over terraces and walls, and gathered near +the landing-place by the Lentulan villa. The soldiers were +already on them. For a moment it seemed as though the +cohort was about to drive the whole swarm of the marauders +over the sea-wall, and make them pay dear for their night's +diversion. But the masterly energy of Demetrius turned the +scale. With barely a score of men behind him, he charged +the nearest century so impetuously that it broke like water +before him; and when sheer numbers had swept his little +group back, the other pirates had rallied on the very brink of +tie sea-wall, and returned to the charge. +</p> + +<p> +Never was battle waged more desperately. The pirates +knew that to be driven back meant to fall over a high embankment +into water so shallow as to give little safety in a dive; +capture implied crucifixion. Their only hope was to hold +their own while their boats took them off to the ships in +small detachments. The conflagration made the narrow +battle-field as bright as day. The soldiers were brave, and for +new recruits moderately disciplined. The pirates could hardly +bear up under the crushing discharge of darts, and the steady +onset of the maniples. Up and down the contest raged, +swaying to and fro like the waves of the sea. Again and +again the pirates were driven so near to the brink of the seawall +that one or two would fall, dashed to instant death on the +submerged rocks below. Demetrius was everywhere at once, +as it were, precisely when he was most needed, always exposing +himself, always aggressive. Even while he himself fought +for dear life, Agias admired as never before the intelligently +ordered puissance of his cousin. +</p> + +<p> +The boats to and from the landing were pulled with frantic +energy. The ships had run in as close as possible, but they +could not use their <i>balistæ</i>,<a name="r168" href="#fn168">[168]</a> for fear of striking down friend as +well as foe. As relays of pirates were carried away, the position +of the remainder became the more desperate with their +lessening numbers. The boats came back for the last relay. +Demetrius drew the remnant of his men together, and charged +so furiously that the whole cohort gave way, leaving the ground +strewn with its own slain. The pirates rushed madly aboard +the boats, they sunk them to the gunwales; other fugitives +clung to the oars. At perilous risk of upsetting they thrust +off, just as the rallied soldiers ran down to the landing-place. +Demetrius and Agias were the only ones standing on the +embankment. They had been the last to retire, and therefore +the boats had filled without them. +</p> + +<p> +A great cry went up from the pirates. +</p> + +<p> +"Save the captain!" and some boats began to back water, +loaded as they were; but Demetrius motioned them back with +his hand. +</p> + +<p> +"Can you swim, boy!" he shouted to Agias, while both tore +off their body-armour. Their shields had already dropped. +Agias shook his head doubtfully. +</p> + +<p> +"My arm is hurt," he muttered. +</p> + +<p> +"No matter!" and Demetrius seized his cousin under one +armpit, and stepped down from the little landing-platform into +the water just below. A single powerful stroke sent the two +out of reach of the swing of the sword of the nearest soldier. +The front files of the cohort had pressed down on to the landing +in a dense mass, loath to let go its prey. +</p> + +<p> +"Let fly, men!" cried Demetrius, as he swam, and javelins +spat into the water about him. +</p> + +<p> +It was a cruel thing to do. The three pirate vessels, two +large triremes and the yacht, discharged all their enginery. +Heavy stones crashed down upon the soldiers, crushing several +men together. Huge arrows tore through shield and armour, +impaling more than one body. It was impossible to miss +working havoc in so close a throng. The troops, impotent +to make effective reply, turned in panic and fled toward +the upper terraces to get beyond the decimating artillery. +The pirates raised a great shout of triumph that shook the +smoke-veiled skies. A fresh boat, pulling out from one of +the vessels, rescued the captain and Agias; and soon the two +cousins were safe on board the trireme Demetrius used as his +flagship. +</p> + +<p> +The pirates swarmed on the decks and rigging and cheered +the escape of their commander. On shore the burning buildings +were still sending up their pillars of flame. The water +and sky far out to sea were red, and beyond, blackness. Again +the pirates shouted, then at the order of their commander the +cables creaked, the anchors rose, hundreds of long oars flashed +in the lurid glare, and the three vessels slipped over the dark +waves. +</p> + +<p> +Demetrius remained on the poop of his ship; Agias was +below in the cabin, bending over Artemisia, who was already +smiling in her sleep. +</p> + + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p> +When Cornelia awoke, it was with Fabia bending over her +at the bedside. The portholes of the cabin were open; the +warm, fresh southern wind was pouring in its balmy sweetness. +Cornelia pressed her hands to her eyes, then looked +forth. The cabin ceiling was low, but studded with rare ornamental +bronze work; the furniture glittered with gilding and +the smooth sheen of polished ivory; the tapestry of the curtains +and on the walls was of the choicest scarlet wool, and +Coan silk, semi-transparent and striped with gold. Gold +plating shone on the section of the mast enclosed within the +cabin. An odour of the rarest Arabian frankincense was +wafted from the pastils burning on a curiously wrought tripod +of Corinthian brass. The upholsteries and rugs were more +splendid than any that Cornelia had seen gracing the palace +of Roman patrician. +</p> + +<p> +Thus it came to pass that Fabia repeated over and over again +to Cornelia the tale of recent happenings, until the latter's +sorely perturbed brain might comprehend. And then, when +Cornelia understood it all: how that she was not to go to +Greece with Phaon; how that she was under the protection +of a man who owed his life to Sextus Drusus, and hated the +Ahenobarbi with a perfect hatred; how that Demetrius had +sworn to carry her to Alexandria, where, safe out of the way +of war and commotion, she might await the hour when Drusus +should be free to come for her—when, we repeat, she understood +all this, and how it came to pass that the Vestal herself +was on the vessel,—then Cornelia strained Fabia to her breast, +and laid her head on the elder woman's shoulder, and cried +and cried for very relief of soul. Then she arose and let the +maids Demetrius had sent to serve her—dark-skinned Hindoos, +whose words were few, but whose fingers quick and dexterous +—dress her from the very complete wardrobe that the sea +prince had placed at her disposal. +</p> + +<p> +Never before had the sunlight shone so fair; never before +had the sniff of the sea-breeze been so sweet. The galleys were +still in the bay, close by Prochyta, scarce a mile and a half +from the nearest mainland. The pirates were landing to procure +water from the desolate, unsettled isle. The bay was +dancing and sparkling with ten million golden ripples; the +sun had risen high enough above the green hills of the coast-land +to spread a broad pathway of shimmering fire across the +waters. Not a cloud flecked the light-bathed azure. Up from +the forward part of the ships sounded the notes of tinkling +cithera and the low-breathing double flutes<a name="r169" href="#fn169">[169]</a> in softest Lydian +mood. In and out of the cabin passed bronzed-faced Ethiopian +mutes with silver cups of the precious Mareotic white wine +of Egypt for the lady, and plates of African pomegranates, +Armenian apricots, and strange sweetmeats flavoured with a +marvellous powder, an Oriental product worth its weight in gold +as a medicine, which later generations were to designate under +the name of sugar. +</p> + +<p> +And so Cornelia was refreshed and dressed; and when the +maids held the mirror before her and she saw that the gold +trinkets were shining in her hair, and the jewels which Demetrius +had sent her were sparkling brightly at her throat, and +realized that she was very fair to see,—then she laughed, +the first real, unforced laugh for many a weary day, whereupon +she laughed again and again, and grew the more pleased +with her own face when she beheld a smile upon it. Then +Fabia kissed her, and told her that no woman was ever more +beautiful; and the dark Indian maids drew back, saying nothing, +but admiring with their eyes. So Cornelia went up upon the +deck, where Demetrius came to meet her. If she had been a +Semiramis rewarding a deserving general, she could not have +been more queenly. For she thanked him and his lieutenants +with a warm gratitude which made every rough seaman +feel himself more than repaid, and yet throughout it all bore +herself as though the mere privilege on their part of rescuing +her ought to be sufficient reward and honour. Then Demetrius +knelt down before all his men, and kissed the hem of her robe, +and swore that he would devote himself and all that was his +to her service, until she and Quintus Drusus should meet, with +no foe to come between; so swore all the pirates after their +captain, and thus it was Cornelia entered into her life on the +ship of the freebooters. +</p> + +<p> +Other work, however, was before Demetrius that day, than +casting glances of dutiful admiration at the stately lady that +had deigned to accept his hospitality. Out from the various +other cabins, less luxurious assuredly than the one in which +Cornelia had awakened, the pirates led their several captives +to stand before the chief. Demetrius, indeed, had accomplished +what he euphemistically described as "a fair night's work." +Half a dozen once very fashionable and now very disordered +and dejected noble ladies and about as many more sadly +bedraggled fine gentlemen were haled before his tribunal for +judgment. The pirate prince stood on the raised roof of a +cabin, a step higher than the rest of the poop. He was again +in his splendid armour, his naked sword was in his hand, at +his side was stationed Eurybiades and half a score more stalwart +seamen, all swinging their bare cutlasses. Demetrius +nevertheless conducted his interrogations with perhaps superfluous +demonstrations of courtesy, and a general distribution +of polite "domini" "dominæ," "clarissimi," and "illustres." +He spoke in perfectly good Latin, with only the slightest foreign +accent; and Cornelia, who—unregenerate pagan that she +was—was taking thorough delight in the dilemma of persons +whom she knew had made her the butt of their scandalous +gibes, could only admire the skilful manner in which he +brought home to the several captives the necessity of finding +a very large sum of money at their bankers' in a very short +time, or enduring an indefinite captivity. After more or less +of surly threats and resistance on the part of the men, and +screaming on the part of the women, the prisoners one and all +capitulated, and put their names to the papyri they were commanded +to sign; and away went a boat dancing over the waves +to Puteoli to cash the money orders, after which the captives +would be set ashore at Baiæ. +</p> + +<p> +Last of the wretches brought before Demetrius came Phaon. +The freedman had been roughly handled; across his brow a +great welt had risen where a pirate had struck him with a rope's +end. His arms were pinioned behind his back. He was perfectly +pale, and his eyes wandered from one person to another +as if vainly seeking some intercessor. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Euge! Kyrios</i><a name="r170" href="#fn170">[170]</a>" cried the pirate chief, "you indeed seem +to enjoy our hospitality but ill." +</p> + +<p> +Phaon fell on his knees. +</p> + +<p> +"I am a poor man," he began to whimper. "I have no +means of paying a ransom. My patron is not here to protect +or rescue me. I have nothing to plunder. <i>Mu! mu!</i> +set me free, most noble pirate! Oh! most excellent prince, +what have I done, that you should bear a grudge against +me?" +</p> + +<p> +"Get up, fellow," snapped Demetrius; "I'm not one of those +crocodile-headed Egyptian gods that they grovel before in the +Nile country. My cousin Agias here says he knows you. Now +answer—are you a Greek?" +</p> + +<p> +"I am an Athenian born." +</p> + +<p> +"Don't you think I can smell your Doric accent by that +broad alpha? You are a Sicilian, I'll be bound!" +</p> + +<p> +Phaon made a motion of sorrowful assent. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Phui!</i>" continued Demetrius, "tell me, Agias, is this the +creature that tried to murder Quintus Drusus?" +</p> + +<p> +Agias nodded. +</p> + +<p> +"A fit minister for such a man as I imagine the son of Lucius +Domitius to be. Eurybiades, take off that fellow's bands; he +is not worth one stroke of the sword." +</p> + +<p> +"The captain will not spare the knave!" remonstrated the +sanguinary lieutenant. +</p> + +<p> +"What I have said, I have said," retorted the other; then, +when Phaon's arms hung free, "See, on the strength of our +fellowship in our both being Greeks, I have set you at large!" +</p> + +<p> +Phaon again sank to his knees to proffer thanks. +</p> + +<p> +"Hold!" cried Demetrius, with a menacing gesture. "Don't +waste your gratitude. Greek you pretend to be, more the +shame! Such as you it is that have brought Hellas under +the heel of the oppressor; such as you have made the word +of a Hellene almost valueless in the Roman courts, so that +juries have to be warned to consider us all liars; such as you +have dragged down into the pit many an honest man; ay, +myself too!" +</p> + +<p> +Phaon left off his thanks and began again to supplicate. +</p> + +<p> +"Stop whining, hound!" roared Demetrius; "haven't I said +you are free? Free, but on one condition!" +</p> + +<p> +"Anything, anything, my lord," professed the freedman, +"money, service—" +</p> + +<p> +"On this condition," and a broad, wicked smile over-spread +the face of the pirate, "that you quit this ship +instantly!" +</p> + +<p> +"Gladly, gladly, merciful sir!" commenced Phaon again; +"where is the boat?" +</p> + +<p> +"Wretch!" shouted the other, "what did I say about a +boat? Depart—depart into the sea! Swim ashore, if the +load on your legs be not too heavy. Seize him and see that he +sinks,"—this last to Eurybiades and the seamen. +</p> + +<p> +Phaon's terror choked his utterance; he turned livid with +mortal fright. He pleaded for life; life on the terms most +degrading, most painful, most joyless—life, life and that only. +He cried out to Cornelia to save him, he confessed his villanies, +and vowed repentance a score of times all in one breath. But +Cornelia lived in an age when the wisest and best—whatever +the philosophers might theorize—thought it no shame to +reward evil for evil, not less than good for good. When Demetrius +asked her, "Shall I spare this man, lady?" she replied: +"As he has made my life bitter for many days, why should I +spare him a brief moment's pain? Death ends all woe!" +</p> + +<p> +There was a dull splash over the side, a circle spreading +out in the water, wider and wider, until it could be seen no +more among the waves. +</p> + +<p> +"There were heavy stones to his feet, Captain," reported +Eurybiades, "and the cords will hold." +</p> + +<p> +"It is well," answered Demetrius, very grave.... +</p> + +<p> +Later in the day the boat returned from Puteoli, and with it +sundry small round-bellied bags, which the pirate prince duly +stowed away in his strong chest. The ransomed captives were +put on board a small unarmed yacht that had come out to +receive them. Demetrius himself handed the ladies over the +side, and salaamed to them as the craft shot off from the flagship. +Then the pirates again weighed anchor, the great +purple<a name="r171" href="#fn171">[171]</a> square sail of each of the ships was cast to the piping +breeze, the triple tiers of silver-plated oars<a href="#fn171">[171]</a> began to rise and +fall in unison to the soft notes of the piper. The land grew +fainter and more faint, and the three ships sprang away, +speeding over the broad breast of the sea. +</p> + +<p> +That night Cornelia and Fabia held each other in their +arms for a long time. They were leaving Rome, leaving Italy, +their closest friend at hand was only the quondam slave-boy +Agias, yet Cornelia, at least, was happy—almost as happy as +the girl Artemisia; and when she lay down to sleep, it was to +enjoy the first sound slumber, unhaunted by dread of trouble, +for nigh unto half a year. +</p> + + + + + +<h2 id="ch20">CHAPTER XX</h2> + +<h2>CLEOPATRA</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p> +A "clear singing zephyr" out of the west sped the ships +on their way. Down they fared along the coast, past the isle +of Capreæ, then, leaving the Campanian main behind, cut the +blue billows of the Tyrrhenian Sea; all that day and night, and +more sail and oar swept them on. They flew past the beaches +of Magna Græcia, then, betwixt Scylla and Charybdis, and +Sicilia and its smoke-beclouded cone of Ætna faded out of +view, and the long, dark swells of the Ionian Sea caught them. +No feeble merchantman, hugging coasts and headlands, was +Demetrius. He pushed his three barques boldly forward +toward the watery sky-line; the rising and setting sun by day +and the slowly circling stars by night were all-sufficient pilots; +and so the ships flew onward, and, late though the season was, +no tempest racked them, no swollen billow tossed them. +</p> + +<p> +Cornelia sat for hours on the poop, beneath a crimson awning, +watching the foam scudding out from under the swift-moving +keel, and feeling the soft, balmy Notos, the kind wind +of the south, now and then puff against her face, when the +west wind veered away, and so brought up a whiff of the spices +and tropic bloom of the great southern continent, over the +parching deserts and the treacherous quicksands of the Syrtes +and the broad "unharvested sea." +</p> + +<p> +Cornelia had seen the cone of Ætna sinking away in the +west, and then she looked westward no more. For eastward +and ever eastward fared the ships, and on beyond them on +pinions of mind flew Cornelia. To Africa, to the Orient! +And she dreamed of the half-fabulous kingdoms of Assyria +and Babylonia; of the splendours of Memphis and Nineveh +and Susa and Ecbatana; of Eastern kings and Eastern +gold, and Eastern pomp and circumstance of war; of Ninus, +and Cyrus the Great, and Alexander; of Cheops and Sesostris +and Amasis; of the hanging gardens; of the treasures of Sardanapalus; +of the labyrinth of Lake Moeris; of a thousand +and one things rare and wonderful. Half was she persuaded +that in the East the heart might not ache nor the soul grow +cold with pain. And all life was fair to Cornelia. She was +sure of meeting Drusus soon or late now, if so be the gods—she +could not help using the expression despite her atheism—spared +him in war. She could wait; she could be very patient. +She was still very young. And when she counted her remaining +years to threescore, they seemed an eternity. The pall +which had rested on her life since her uncle and her lover +parted after their stormy interview was lifted; she could +smile, could laugh, could breathe in the fresh air, and cry, +"How good it all is!" +</p> + +<p> +Demetrius held his men under control with an iron hand. +If ever the pirate ship was filled with sights and sounds +unseemly for a lady's eyes and ears, there were none of them +now. Cornelia was a princess, abjectly waited on by her subjects. +Demetrius's attention outran all her least desires. +He wearied her with presents of jewellery and costly dresses, +though, as he quietly remarked to Agias, the gifts meant no +more of sacrifice to him than an obol to a rich spendthrift. He +filled her ears with music all day long; he entertained her with +inimitable narrations of his own adventurous voyages and +battles. And only dimly could Cornelia realize that the gems +she wore in her hair, her silken dress, nay, almost everything +she touched, had come from earlier owners with scant process +of law. +</p> + +<p> +Demetrius was no common rover. He had been a young +man of rare culture before misfortune struck him. He knew +his Homer and his Plato as well as how to swing a sword. +"Yet," as he remarked with half jest, half sigh, "all his philosophy +did not make him one whit more an honest man." +</p> + +<p> +And in his crew of Greeks, Orientals, and Spaniards were +many more whom calamity, not innate wickedness, so Cornelia +discovered, had driven to a life of violence and rapine. +</p> + +<p> +Demetrius, too, gave no little heed to Artemisia. That +pretty creature had been basking in the sunshine of Agias's +presence ever since coming on shipboard. It was tacitly +understood that Cornelia would care for the welfare and education +of Pratinas's runaway, until she reached a maturity at +which Agias could assert his claims. The young Hellene +himself had been not a little anxious lest his cousin cast +obstacles in the way of an alliance with a masterless slavegirl; +for of late Demetrius had been boasting to his kinsman +that their family, before business misfortunes, had been +wealthy and honourable among the merchant princes of Alexandria. +But the worthy pirate had not an objection to make; +on the contrary, he would sit for hours staring at Artemisia, +and when Agias demanded if he was about to turn rival, +shook his head and replied, rather brusquely:— +</p> + +<p> +"I was only thinking that Daphne might be about her age, +and look perhaps like her." +</p> + +<p> +"Then you do not think your little daughter is dead?" asked +Agias, sympathetic, yet personally relieved. +</p> + +<p> +"I know nothing, nothing," replied his cousin, a look of +ineffable pain passing over his fine features; "she was a +mere infant when I was arrested. When I broke loose, I +had to flee for my life. When I could set searchers after her, +she had vanished. Poor motherless thing; I imagine she is +the slave of some gay lady at Antioch or Ephesus or Rome +now." +</p> + +<p> +"And you do not know who stole her?" asked Agias. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't tear open old wounds," was the retort. "I know +nothing. I think—but it matters little what I think. There +was that sly-eyed, smooth-tongued Greek, like that Phaon who +met his deserts, who was no stranger to Domitius's blackmailings. +I <i>feel</i> that he did it. Never mind his name. If ever +I get the snake into my power—" and Demetrius's fingers +tightened around the thick, hard cable he was clutching, and +crushed the solid hemp into soft, loose strands; then he broke +out again, "Never mention this another time, Agias, or I shall +go mad, and plunge down, down into the waves, to go to sleep +and forget it all!" +</p> + +<p> +Agias was faithful to the injunction; but he observed that +Demetrius showed Artemisia the same attention as Cornelia, +albeit mingled with a little gracious and unoffending familiarity. +</p> + + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p> +After a voyage in which one pleasant day succeeded another, +Cornelia awoke one morning to hear the creak of blocks and +tackle as the sailors were lowering sail. The full banks of +oars were plashing in the waves, and on deck many feet were +rushing to and fro, while officers shouted their orders. Coming +out of her cabin, the young lady saw that the end of her +seafaring was close at hand. Even to one fresh from the +azure atmosphere of the Campanian Bay, the sky was marvellously +clear. The water was of a soft green tint, that shaded +off here and there into dark cerulean. The wind was blowing +in cool puffs out of the north. A long, slow swell made the +stately triremes rock gracefully. Before them, in clear view, +rose the tall tower of the Pharos,—the lighthouse of Alexandria,—and +beyond it, on the low-lying mainland, rose in +splendid relief against the cloudless sky the glittering piles +and fanes of the city of the Ptolemies. It was a magnificent +picture,—a "picture" because the colours everywhere were as +bright as though laid on freshly by a painter's brush. The +stonework of the buildings, painted to gaudy hues, brought out +all the details of column, cornice, and pediment. Here Demetrius +pointed out the Royal Palace, here the Theatre; here, +farther inland, the Museum, where was the great University; +in the distance the whole looked like a painting in miniature. +Only there was more movement in this picture: a splendid +yacht, with the gold and ivory glittering on its prow and poop, +was shooting out from the royal dockyards in front of the +palace; a ponderous corn-ship was spreading her dirty sails to +try to beat out against the adverse breeze, and venture on a +voyage to Rome, at a season when the Italian traffic was usually +suspended. The harbour and quays were one forest of +masts. Boats and small craft were gliding everywhere. +Behind the pirate's triremes several large merchantmen were +bearing into the harbour under a full press of sail. +</p> + +<p> +"And this, your ladyship," said Demetrius, smiling, "is +Egypt. Does the first sight please you?" +</p> + +<p> +"Does it not!" exclaimed Cornelia, drinking in the matchless +spectacle. "But you, kind sir, do you not run personal +peril by putting into this haven for my sake?" +</p> + +<p> +Demetrius laughed. +</p> + +<p> +"It speaks ill for the law-abiding qualities of my countrymen, +lady," said he, "that I have nothing now to fear. I have +too many great friends both in the court and in the city to +fear arrest or annoyance. Here I may not stay long, for if it +were to be noised in Rome that a pirate were harboured +habitually at Alexandria, a demand for my arrest would come +to the king quickly enough, and he must needs comply. But +for a few days, especially while all Rome is in chaos, I am +safe; and, come what may, I would be first warned if any one +intended to lay hands on me." +</p> + +<p> +Indeed, Demetrius's boast as to his own importance in +Alexandria was soon verified. The customs officials were all +obsequiousness when they went through the form of levying +on the cargo of the ship. The master of the port was soon in +Demetrius's own cabin over a crater of excellent wine, and no +sooner had the vessels touched the quay than their crews were +fraternizing with the hosts of stevedores and flower-girls who +swarmed to meet the new arrivals. +</p> + + +<hr /> + +<p> +A few days later Cornelia and Fabia found themselves +received as members of the household of no less a person than +Cleomenes, a distant kinsman of Demetrius and Agias, and +himself one of the great merchant princes of the Egyptian capital. +The Roman ladies found a certain amount of shyness to +overcome on their own part and on that of their hosts. Cleomenes +himself was a widower, and his ample house was presided +over by two dark-skinned, dark-eyed daughters, Berenice and +Monime—girls who blended with the handsome Greek features +of their father the soft, sensuous charm of his dead Egyptian +wife. Bashful indeed had been these maidens in contact with +the strangers who came bearing with them the haughty pride +of all-conquering Rome. But after a day or two, when +Cornelia had cast off the hauteur begotten of diffidence, and +Fabia had opened the depths of her pure womanly character, +the barriers were thrown down rapidly enough; and Cornelia +and Fabia gained, not merely an access to a new world of life +and ideas, but two friends that they could regard almost as +sisters. +</p> + +<p> +It was a new thing for these Roman ladies to meet a foreigner +on terms approaching equality. A non-Roman had been +for them a servant, an intelligent underling, nothing more; +even Agias and Demetrius they had regarded as friends, very +close and agreeable, but whom it was a distinct condescension +not to treat with ostentatious superiority. But to sustain +this feeling long with Berenice and Monime was impossible. +The young Egyptians were every whit as cultured, as intelligent, +as themselves, every whit as accustomed to deference +from others, and implicitly assumed the right to demand it. +The result was that Cornelia found herself thinking less and +less about being a Roman, and more and more regarded her +gracious hosts as persons in every way equal to herself. +</p> + +<p> +And less and less of a Roman, Cornelia, the Hellene-hater, +became. Greek was the only tongue now that sounded in her +ear, unless she talked privately with Fabia or was beguiled +into trying to learn a little Egyptian—a language Berenice +and Monime spoke fluently. The clothes she wore were no +longer stola and palla, but chiton and himation. The whole +atmosphere about her was foreign, down to the cries on the +streets. And Italy was very far away, and the last memories +thereof none the most pleasant. +</p> + +<p> +It chanced that one morning Cleomenes, Monime, and Cornelia +were driving down the great central street, under the +shadow of seemingly endless colonnades. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>A!</i> dearest one," cried Monime, "why must you think +of leaving our lovely Alexandria, of going back to cold, cheerless +Rome? What good thing does Rome send out but stern +men and sharp iron?" +</p> + +<p> +Cornelia shook her head and made answer— +</p> + +<p> +"You Alexandrians are not one nation, but all the world; +therefore you think all who are less cosmopolitan poor. See, +I count in the crowds not only the dark Egyptians and fair +Greeks, but a Persian in his splendid long kaftan, and a very +venerable Jew, and a wiry little Arab, and Syrians, and negroes, +and, I think, a Hindoo." +</p> + +<p> +"And yourself, my lady, a Roman," concluded Cleomenes. +"Truly all the earth has met in our city." +</p> + +<p> +They whirled down the splendid highway that ran straight +as an arrow the whole length of the city, lined on either side +by a forest of the infinite number of columns of the great +stretches of porticos. Handsomely dressed cavalrymen of the +palace guard were dashing to and fro over the clean, hard pavement; +elegant carriages containing the noble and wealthy were +whirling in every direction. At each glance, the eye lit on +some pleasing bit of sculpture, some delicate curve of architecture. +Statues were everywhere, everywhere colour, everywhere +crowds of gayly dressed citizens and foreigners. Cornelia +contrasted the symmetrical streets, all broad, swept, and at +right angles—the triumph of the wise architectural planning +of Dinocrates—with the dirty, unsightly, and crooked lanes of +the City of the Seven Hills, and told herself, as she had told +herself often in recent days, that Romans had much yet to learn. +</p> + +<p> +They drove on past the Amphitheatre toward the Egyptian +quarter of the Rhacotis; and here, at the intersection of the +Great Street with the other broad way leading from the "Gate +of the Moon" on the harbour to the "Gate of the Sun" on Lake +Mareotis, a moving hedge of outriders, cavalrymen, and foot-guards +met them. +</p> + +<p> +"The queen coming from the Serapeum," said Cleomenes, +drawing rein. +</p> + +<p> +Cornelia saw half-naked Numidian footmen thrusting back +the crowd that bustled in the Omphalos—the great square +where the two highroads met. Behind them pushed a squadron +of light cavalry in silvered armour and splendid purple +and scarlet uniforms. Then, in the midst of all, moved a +chariot drawn by four horses white as snow, the harness +resplendent with gold and jewels; at either side ran fan-bearers, +waving great masses of bright ostrich plumes; a gaudy +parasol swept over the carriage itself. There were three occupants, +whereof two stood: an Egyptian, gaunt and of great +height, clad in plain white linen, who was driving, and a handsome, +gaudily dressed Greek youth, who was holding the parasol. +Cornelia could just catch the profile of a young woman +seated between them. The face was not quite regular, but +marvellously intelligent and sensitive; the skin not pale, yet +far from dark, and perfectly healthy and clear; the eyes restive +and piercing. The queen was dressed plainly in Greek fashion; +her himation was white, her only ornament a great diamond +that was blazing like a star on her breast. Upon the coils of +her heavy, dark hair sat a golden circlet faced in front with the +likeness of the head of the venomous uræus snake—the emblem +of Egyptian royalty. This was all Cornelia could observe +in the brief time the queen was in view. Some of the people—Egyptians +mostly—cried out to her in their own tongue:— +</p> + +<p> +"Hail to the ever glorious Daughter of Ra!" +</p> + +<p> +But the queen paid them little heed. Once her restless eyes +lit on the carriage of Cleomenes, and she made a slight inclination +of the head in return to that gentleman's salute, for Cleomenes +had standing at court as one of the "friends of the king."<a name="r172" href="#fn172">[172]</a> +</p> + +<p> + The cortège rolled away toward the palace. +</p> + +<p> +"This Cleopatra is a rather remarkable woman," observed +Cornelia, for the sake of saying something. +</p> + +<p> +"Indeed, that is true," replied Cleomenes, as he turned to +drive homeward. "She is worthy to have lived in the days of +the first Ptolemies, of Ptolemæus Soter and Philadelphus and +Euergetes. She is still very young, only twenty, and yet five +years ago she was so fascinating that when Antonius, of whom +I have heard you speak, came here with Gabinius's expeditions +he quite lost his heart to her. She has a marvellous talent for +statecraft and intrigue and diplomacy. You know that, nominally +at least, she has to share her crown with young Ptolemæus, +her younger brother. He is a worthless rascal, but +his tutor, the eunuch Pothinus, really wields him. Pothinus, +as the custom is, was brought up with him as his playmate, and +now Pothinus wants to drive out the queen, and rule Egypt +through his power over the king. His ambition is notorious, +but the queen has not been able to lay hands on him for +treason." +</p> + +<p> +Cleopatra and her fortunes and perils played a slight part in +Cornelia's mind, however, that day. To know Alexandria in +its sunlight and shadows was indeed to know a miniature world. +First of all to notice, besides the heterogeneous nature of the +crowds on the streets, was the fact that every person, high as +well as low, was engaged in some trade. Very far was the +typical Alexandrian from the quiet "leisure" which the average +Greek or Latin believed requisite for a refined life—a life in +which slaves did all the necessary work, and amassed an income +for the master to expend in polite recreations. In Rome, for +a free citizen to have been a handicraftsman would have been +a disgrace; he could be farmer, banker, soldier,—nothing more. +In Alexandria the glass-workers, paper-makers, and linen +weavers were those who were proudest and most jealous of +their title of "Men of Macedonia."<a name="r173" href="#fn173">[173]</a> Money, Cornelia soon +discovered, was even a greater god here than in Rome. Cleomenes +himself was not ashamed to spend a large part of the +day inspecting his factories, and did not hesitate to declare +that during a period when he and his family had been in great +distress, following the failure of the banking house of Agias's +father, he had toiled with his own hands to win bread for his +daughters. +</p> + +<p> +The conception that any honest labour, except a certain +genteel agriculture, might not make a man the less of a gentleman, +or a woman the less of a lady, was as new to Cornelia +as the idea that some non-Romans could claim equality with +herself. Neither proposition did she accept consciously. The +prejudice wore quietly away. But other things about the city +she gathered quickly enough from the caustic explanations of +Cleomenes. +</p> + +<p> +"Here in Alexandria," he asserted on one occasion, "we are +always ripe for a riot. Never a chariot race without stone-throwing +and throat-cutting after it. An unpopular official is +torn in pieces by a mob. If you chance to kill a cat, the +Egyptians are after you for your life. The Greeks hate the +Jews, and are always ready to plunder their quarter; the Egyptians +are on bad terms with both. We talk about being free +citizens of the capital of the Ptolemies, and pretend to go to +the Gymnasium for discussion, and claim a right to consult +with the king; but our precious Senate, and all our tribes and +wards, are only fictions. We are as much slaves as the poor +creatures down in the royal quarries; only we demand the right +to riot and give nicknames. We called the last Ptolemæus, +Auletes "the Piper," because in that way we have punished +him in all history for the way he oppressed us. <i>Euge!</i> Have +we not a wonderful city!" +</p> + +<p> +It was on the very next day that Cleopatra was recalled to +Cornelia's mind in a quite marked fashion. It was rather +early, and she was upon the roof-garden, on the third story of +the house, where there was a commanding view of the city. +Berenice was busy reading from a papyrus the Egyptian legend +of the "Adventures of Sinuhit," translating into Greek as she +read. +</p> + +<p> +Cleomenes broke in upon the reading. His face wore a +mysterious smile. +</p> + +<p> +"I have a rather strange piece of news for you, my lady," +he said. "A chamberlain of the court has just been here, and +brings a royal command." +</p> + +<p> +"I am not accustomed to being commanded," interrupted +Cornelia, all her Roman haughtiness rising. +</p> + +<p> +"I do not think you will be found disobedient. The queen, +it seems, noticed you in my carriage yesterday, and at once +divined, with that wonderfully quick wit of hers, that you must +be a Roman lady of rank. She immediately made inquiries, +and now sends her chamberlain to ask you and the Lady Fabia, +as well as myself, to dine with her at the palace to-night. You +may be sure nothing will be lacking to do you honour." +</p> + +<p> +Cornelia meekly acquiesced in this royal mandate. Fabia, +however, could not stir from the house. The shock to her +finely strung nature when she was taken from Rome had, +indeed, produced a physical reaction. She was not seriously +ill, but could endure no excitement. So it was with only +Cleomenes for an escort that Cornelia mounted into one of the +splendid royal chariots sent from the palace about dusk, and +drove away surrounded by a cloud of guardsmen sent to do +honour to the guests of the queen. +</p> + +<p> +Cornelia herself felt highly strung and slightly nervous. She +wished, for the first time since she reached Alexandria, that +she could go dressed in the native costume of a Roman lady, +She was going to enjoy the hospitality of a princess who was +the successor of thirty odd dynasties of Pharaohs; who was +worshipped herself as a goddess by millions of Egyptians; who +was hailed as "Daughter of the Sun," and with fifty other +fulsome titles; a princess, furthermore, who was supposed to +dispose of the lives of her subjects as seemed right in her own +eyes, without law of man or god to hinder. Cornelia was not +afraid, nay rather, anticipatory; only she had never before +been so thoroughly conscious that she was Roman down to her +finger-tips—Roman, and hence could look upon the faces of +princes unabashed. +</p> + +<p> +The people saw the royal chariot, and some shouted salutations +to the guests whom the queen delighted to honour. The +company swept up under the magnificent archway leading to +the palace; above them rose tall Ionic columns of red granite +of Syene, building rising above building, labyrinths of pillars, +myriads of statues. Torches were blazing from every direction. +The palace grounds were as bright as day. The light breeze +was sweeping through rare Indian ferns and tropical palms. +The air was heavy with the breath of innumerable roses. Huge +fountains were tossing up showers of spray, which fell tinkling +onto broad basins wherein the cups of the blue and white lotus +were floating. It was indeed as if one had been led on to +enchanted ground. +</p> + +<p> +Cornelia and her friend dismounted from their chariot, and +were led through an endless colonnade, past a second, lower +gateway, and then into a hall, not very high or large, but +admirable in its proportions, with a whole gallery of choice +mythological paintings on its walls. Small heed did Cornelia +give to them. For at the end of the hall rose a low dais, +whereon sat, in a gilded chair, the same person who had been +pointed out to Cornelia the day before as the mistress of +Upper and Lower Egypt. +</p> + +<p> +The light was too dim to discover in the distance anything +new in the face of the queen. She wore a loose, long gown of +some light blue silken stuff; and her belt, shoes, neck, breast, +and ears were all glittering with gems. At the foot of the dais +was a group of half a dozen showily dressed chamberlains and +courtiers, who made a slight motion of greeting when the two +guests darkened the doorway. One of these functionaries +advanced to Cornelia. +</p> + +<p> +"Your ladyship," he began, in a smooth, colourless voice, +"I have the honour to be the Royal Introducing Chamberlain. +In approaching the queen, do as I shall direct. First, before +advancing to the dais bow slightly; then at the foot of the dais +it is proper—" +</p> + +<p> +"Sir," interrupted Cornelia, drawing herself up to her full +height, "I am not accustomed to your prostrations and genuflections, +and of them my countrymen make sorry work; pray +excuse me." And without waiting for reply or expostulation +she advanced straight toward the dais. The hall was small, +the steps from the door to the queen's chair few; but never +did Cornelia fare on more tedious journey. She knew that a +half-horrified titter was passing through the group of courtiers +She knew that Cleopatra herself had stirred in her seat, as if +to rise. But one word sounded in Cornelia's ears, and that +word was "Rome." Were not Roman citizens nobles among +nobles, and Roman senators peers of kings! And she, daughter +of the Cornelii and Claudii, whose ancestors had broken the +might of Antiochus the Great and Mithridates—should she +not look in the face the heiress of the Lagidæ? Had not one +hundred years before Popilius, the Roman commissioner, come +unarmed into the presence of Antiochus Epiphanes, while he +was advancing to the gates of defenceless Alexandria, drawn +a circle in the dust about the king, and bidden him answer, +before he stepped over, whether he would court destruction or +obey the mandate of the Republic and leave Egypt in peace? +And had not the great king obeyed—humbly? Why, then, +should not a Roman patrician maiden look down on a mere +monarch, who was a pawn in the hands of her kinsfolk and +countrymen? +</p> + +<p> +To repeat these things is long. The mind moves faster than +the sunlight. Cornelia came to the dais, and there gave the +slightest inclination of her head—the greeting of a mistress to +slaves—to the group of courtiers. She advanced straight +toward the royal chair and stretched forth her hand. +</p> + +<p> +"I am your debtor, O queen, for a kindness that I may not +soon, I fear, repay—unless you come to Rome." +</p> + +<p> +She spoke as a superior addressing an inferior who had rendered +some slight service. The queen rose from her seat and +took the proffered hand without the least hesitation. +</p> + +<p> +"And I will ask for none other reward than that you do +honour to my entertainment." +</p> + +<p> +The voice was wonderfully soft, modulated, and ringing; +like an instrument of many strings. Every syllable blended +into the next in perfect harmony; to hear a few words was like +listening unto music. +</p> + +<p> +Cornelia knew later, when she was older and had thought +more, that the queen had instantly caught the defiant mood of +her guest, and thereupon left nothing unspared to conciliate +it. At that moment, however, she attempted no such analysis +of motive. She was conscious of only one thing: the luminous +personality of Cleopatra. The queen was all that Cornelia had +noticed her to be when they met at the Great Square; but she +was more than a beautiful woman. In fact, in mere bodily +perfection Monime or Berenice might well have stood beside +her. The glance of the queen went through and through her +guests like arrows of softly burning light. It was impossible +to withdraw one's eyes from her; impossible to shake off the +spell of an enjoyable magnetism. If she moved her long, +shapely fingers, it was speech; if she raised her hand, eloquence. +As shade after shade of varying emotion seemed to +pass across Cleopatra's face, it was as if one saw the workings +of a masterful spirit as in a mirror; and now could cry, "This +is one of the Graces," and now "This is one of the Fates," as +half-girlish candour and sweetness was followed by a lightning +flash from the eyes, disclosing the deep, far-recessed +subtleties of the soul within. Cornelia had entered the +hall haughty, defiant; a word and a look—she was the most +obedient vassal. +</p> + +<p> +Cornelia had seen many a splendid banquet and dinner party +in Rome. Even Oriental kings had not a great deal to teach +the "masters of the toga" in ostentatious luxury. Perhaps the +queen had realized this. The present occasion called, indeed +for very little formality, for, besides Cornelia, Cleomenes was +the only guest; and when that gentleman inquired politely if +his Majesty, the King Ptolemæus, was to honour them with +his presence, Cleopatra replied, with an eloquent raising of +the eyebrows:— +</p> + +<p> +"The king will be to-night, as he always is, with his tutor—Pothinus." +</p> + +<p> +There was indescribable scorn in the last word. +</p> + +<p> +The doors of the reception hall had been flung back on noiseless +pivots by unseen hands. The banqueting room disclosed +within was not so much a room as a garden. Flowers, flowers +were everywhere, roses, violets, narcissuses, and a score of +others breathing forth a heavy fragrance. Overhead, the goldstudded +ceiling was converted into a vast arbour of blending +flowery tints. The room was large, very large for only three +banqueters; on the walls, from out between the potted tropical +plants, shone marvellous marble reliefs, one hundred in +all; and in betwixt them were matchless paintings. Framing, +after a fashion, the pictures, were equally perfect embroideries, +portraying in silk and fine linen the stories of Thebes, +the kingly house of Argos, and many another myth of fame. +The pillars of the room represented palm trees and Bacchic +thyrsi; skins of wild beasts were fastened high up to the +walls; and everywhere was the sheen of silver and gold, the +splendour of scarlet and purple tapestries. +</p> + +<p> +"The decorations of this room," said the queen, as her two +guests entered, "are nearly all preserved from the great banqueting +pavilion of Ptolemæus Philadelphus, which he erected +for the grand festival that ushered in his reign." +</p> + +<p> +Cornelia drew back as her foot crossed the threshold. Her +sandals trod on the fair white cup of a blooming lily. The +queen laughed as merrily as a little girl at her confusion. +</p> + +<p> +"In Rome, I doubt not," she said, smiling, "there are not +flowers enough at this time of year to have them for a carpet. +But this is Alexandria. Flowers are never out of bloom." +</p> + +<p> +So Cornelia advanced, but perhaps it grieved her more to +tread on the innocent flowers, than any small thing had since +she left Baiæ. +</p> + +<p> +And then the banquet, if such it may be termed when there +are but three to enjoy it, began. Cleopatra knew well that she +could not overwhelm her Roman guest with show of plate and +gems, nor did she try. But Cornelia forgot about such things +long before they rose. For the queen displayed to her a +myriad dainty perfections and refinements that never had +endeared themselves to the grosser Italian gourmands. Cleomenes +had whispered to his companion, before they reached +the palace, "Plato tells of four sorts of flattery; but I can +promise you a thousand sorts from Cleopatra if she but cares +to win your friendship." And surely the queen did thus +desire. For Cornelia was surfeited with strange dishes, and +rare sherbets, flowers, and music; surfeited with everything +save the words that fell from the lips of Cleopatra. +</p> + +<p> +The more the queen spoke, the more complete became the +vassalage of her guest. Cornelia discovered that this woman, +who was but little older than she, could speak fluently seven +languages, and carried about with her an exceedingly accurate +knowledge, not merely of the administration of Egypt, but of +the politics of Rome, and the details of the great contest racking +the Republic. When Cleopatra asked questions concerning +Roman affairs, Cornelia was fain to confess ignorance and +be put to shame. And as the evening advanced, Cornelia +found herself talking with more and more confidence to this +woman that she had never addressed until an hour before. +Cleopatra of course knew, as all Alexandria knew, that Cornelia +and Fabia were Roman ladies of the highest rank, who +had been forced to take refuge abroad until the political crisis +was over. But now Cornelia told the queen the true reasons +that had led her to be willing to submit to Demetrius's friendly +kidnapping; and when, in a burst of frankness,—which in a +saner moment Cornelia would have deemed unwise,—she told +of her betrothal to Drusus and willingness to wait long for him, +if they might only come together in the end, the queen seemed +unable to speak with her usual bright vivacity. Presently +she said:— +</p> + +<p> +"So you love this young man as none other? You are willing +to be all your life his handmaid, his slave?" +</p> + +<p> +"I love him, assuredly," said Cornelia, with a little heat. +"And so far as being all my life his slave, I've given that never +so much as a thought. Where love is, there slavery cannot be." +</p> + +<p> +"And where love is not, there slavery must be, doubtless you +wish to add?" broke in the queen. +</p> + +<p> +"I should be very miserable if I had nothing to love, which +I might love purely, and feel myself the nobler and happier +thereby." +</p> + +<p> +"Then pity us poor mortals who cannot climb up to your +Olympus! Eh, my very noble Cleomenes," went on the queen, +addressing the Greek, "do I not deserve compassion, that +I have not been able to find some Tigranes of Armenia, or +Parthian prince, who will be all in all to me, and make me +forget everything in worshipping him?" +</p> + +<p> +These were the first words that evening that had grated on +Cornelia. A little ruffled, she replied:— +</p> + +<p> +"I fear, O queen, that if you are awaiting a Tigranes or an +Artavasdes to sue for your hand, you will indeed never find a +lord to worship. Quintus Drusus is indeed wealthy at Rome, +his family noble, he may rise to great things; but I would not +lay down my life for him because of his wealth, his lineage, +or his fair prospects. It is not these things which make a +common woman love a man." +</p> + +<p> +"But I am not a common woman," responded Cleopatra, +with emphasis. "I am ambitious, not to be led, but to lead. +I must rule or I must die. I cannot love a master, only fear +him. Why, because I was born a woman, must I give up all +my royal aspirations to rise to a great place among princes, +to build up a great empire in the East, to make Alexandria +a capital with the power of Rome, the culture of Athens, the +splendour of Babylon, all in one? It is because I have these +hopes stirring in me that I may love no man, can love no man! +Nothing shall stand in my way; nothing shall oppose me. +Whoever thwarts my ambitions, the worse for him; let him +die—all things must die, but not I, until I have won my +power and glory!" +</p> + +<p> +For once, at least, the queen's emotions had run away with +her; she spoke hotly, passionately, as though tearing her words +from the recesses of her throbbing heart. Her wonderful voice +was keyed in half-bitter defiance. For the moment Cornelia +was mistress, and not the queen. +</p> + +<p> +"O queen," broke in the young Roman, "would you know how +I feel toward you?" +</p> + +<p> +Cleopatra looked at her with dilated eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"I feel for you a very great sorrow. I know not whether +you will or will not do as you wish—set your empire over the +far East, a rival, friendly, I hope, to our Rome; but this I +know, that with your glory, and with your renown among men +for all time, you will go down to your grave with an empty +heart. And I know not what may compensate for that." +</p> + +<p> +Cleomenes was clearly a little disturbed at this turn to the +conversation; but Cleopatra bowed her head on her hands. It +was only for an instant. When she looked up once more there +were tears in her eyes, which she made no effort to conceal. +The look of high defiance had faded from her face. +</p> + +<p> +"Think kindly of me, Lady Cornelia," she said; "I am but +a wilful girl with many things to learn. Perhaps you yourself +know that purple robes do not make a light heart." +</p> + +<p> +"That I know well and sadly." +</p> + +<p> +"Therefore," went on the queen, "if I forget myself, and +half envy a cup of happiness that seems dashed from my lips, +do not be over blameful." +</p> + +<p> +"Never," responded the young Roman. +</p> + +<p> +"Time advances," said the queen; "let us forget that any +barriers shut us out from perfect bliss. Let us call in the +Egyptian musicians; and cry out upon me if my looks grow +sad!" +</p> + +<p> +Whereat a whole section in the side of the room turned on a +pivot, and there entered three native harpers and eight pretty +Egyptian girls, in gauzy dresses, who danced in intricate figures, +and juggled with balls; now with two, now with three, +catching them with their hands crossed. Boys ran in and out +and sprinkled <i>kyphi</i><a name="r174" href="#fn174">[174]</a> on the heads of the three feasters, and +flung huge wreaths of flowers round their necks, and thrust +lotus flowers in their hair. And all the time the girls sang +sweetly. +</p> + +<p> +The queen kept her guests very late. +</p> + +<p> +"We of Alexandria," said she, "make little difference +between night and day. Our city is a new Sybaris." +</p> + +<p> +And all through the evening Cleopatra kept close to Cornelia, +often with her hand upon her, as though extremely loath to let +her go. At last the moon crept up into the heavens, and as +the queen and her guests roved out of the heated banqueting +hall into the cool gardens, the pale yellow light gently bathed +the sweep of the city, which lay in full view of the palace terrace. +</p> + +<p> +"All sleep," said Cleopatra, "all but ourselves. Let there +be one more song, and then farewell!—but soon to meet again." +</p> + +<p> +The chorus of maidens, which followed them, sang, in Greek, +the hymn of Onomacritus:<a name="r175" href="#fn175">[175]</a>— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +"Heavenly Selene! goddess queen! that shed'st abroad the light!<br /> +Bull-horned moon! air-habiting! thou wanderer through the night!<br /> +Moon bearer of mighty torch! thou star-encircled maid!<br /> +Woman thou, yet male the same, still fresh and undecayed!<br /> +Thou that in thy steeds delightest, as they travel through the sky,<br /> +Clothed in brightness! mighty mother of the rapid years that fly;<br /> +Fruit dispenser! amber-visaged! melancholy, yet serene!<br /> +All beholding! sleep-enamour'd! still with trooping planets seen!<br /> +Quiet loving; who in pleasance and in plenty tak'st delight;<br /> +Joy diffusing! Fruit maturing! Sparkling ornament of night!<br /> +Swiftly pacing! ample-vested! star-bright! all divining maid!<br /> +Come benignant! come spontaneous! with starry sheen arrayed!<br /> +Sweetly shining! save us virgin, give thy holy suppliants aid!" +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +"Yes," said Cleopatra, passing her hand over her brow, "give +us aid, either thou, O moon, or some other power, for we are +full weak ourselves." +</p> + +<p> +When the queen parted with her guests she put her arms +around Cornelia's waist and kissed her on the forehead. +</p> + +<p> +"I sent for you," said Cleopatra, "half intending to amuse +myself with the boorishness and clumsy insolence which I +conceived a noble Roman lady to possess. I have been punished. +Promise to come to see me often, very often, or I shall +call my body-guards and keep you prisoner. For I have very +few friends." +</p> + +<p> +While the chariot was bearing the two guests away, Cleomenes +asked Cornelia what she thought of the queen. +</p> + +<p> +"She is the most wonderful woman I have ever met," was +her answer, enthusiastic and characteristically feminine. "I +admire her. I am almost her slave." +</p> + +<p> +The frequency of Cornelia's visits to the palace on following +days seemed to prove that the admiration was not unreciprocated. +Indeed, Monime and Berenice grew jealous of the queen +for stealing their new friend from them. +</p> + + + + + +<h2 id="ch21">CHAPTER XXI</h2> + +<h2>HOW ULAMHALA'S WORDS CAME TRUE</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p> +The sentries were going their rounds; the camp-fires were +burning low. Over on the western hills bounding the Thessalian +plain-land lingered the last bars of light. It was +oppressively warm, and man and beast were utterly fatigued. +Quintus Drusus stripped off his armour, and flung himself on +the turf inside his tattered leather tent. Vast had been the +changes eighteen months of campaigning had made in him. +He had fought in Italy, in Spain, in the long blockade of the +Pompeians at Dyrrachium. He had learned the art of war in +no gentle school. He had ceased even so much as to grumble +inwardly at the hardships endured by the hard-pressed Cæsarian +army. The campaign was not going well. Pompeius +had broken through the blockade; and now the two armies +had been executing tedious manoeuvres, fencing for a vantage-ground +before joining pitched battle. +</p> + +<p> +Drusus was exceedingly weary. The events of the past two +years,—loves, hates, pleasures, perils, battles,—all coursed +through his mind; the fairest and most hideous of things +were blended into buzzing confusion; and out of that confusion +came a dull consciousness that he, Quintus Drusus, was +thoroughly weary of everything and anything—was heavy of +heart, was consumed with hatred, was chafing against a hundred +barriers of time, space, and circumstance, and was +utterly impotent to contend against them. +</p> + +<p> +The Imperator—how he loved and adored him! Through +all the campaigning nothing could seem to break the strength +of that nervous, agile, finely strung physique. Sleeping in +carriages or litters; ever moving; dictating continually books +and letters to a secretary if for an hour there was a halt; +dictating even while on horseback, in fact, and composing two +letters at the same time; riding the most ungovernable horses +fearlessly and without a fall; galloping at full speed with his +hands clasped behind his back,—these were the mere external +traits that made him wonderful among men. Worthy of all +praise was the discipline by which the Imperator had held his +troops to him by bonds firmer than iron; neither noticing all +petty transgressions, nor punishing according to a rigid rule; +swift and sure to apprehend mutineers and deserters; certain +to relax the tight bands of discipline after a hard-fought battle +with the genial remark that "his soldiers fought none the +worse for being well oiled "; ever treating the troops as comrades, +and addressing them as "fellow-soldiers," as if they +were but sharers with him in the honour of struggling for a +single great end. Drusus had known him to ride one hundred +miles a day in a light chariot without baggage, march continually +at the head of his legions on foot, sharing their fatigues +in the most malignant weather, swim a swollen river on a float +of inflated skins, always travelling faster than the news of his +coming might fly before him. Tireless, unsleeping, all providing, +all accomplishing, omniscient,—this was what made +Drusus look upon his general as a being raised up by the +Fates, to go up and down the world, destroying here and +building there. The immediate future might be sombre +enough, with all the military advantages falling, one after +another, into Pompeius's lap; but doubt the ultimate triumph +of Cæsar? The young Livian would have as readily questioned +his own existence. +</p> + +<p> +Some one thrust back the flaps of the tent, and called inside +into the darkness:— +</p> + +<p> +"Are you here, Drusus?" +</p> + +<p> +"I am," was the wearied answer. "Is that Antonius?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. Come out. We may as well dispose of our cold +<i>puls</i> before the moon rises, and while we can imagine it peacocks, +Lucrine oysters, or what not." +</p> + +<p> +"If sight were the only sense!" grumbled Drusus, as he +pulled himself together by a considerable effort, and staggered +to his feet. +</p> + +<p> +Outside the tent Antonius was waiting with a helmet half +full of the delectable viand, which the two friends proceeded +to share together as equally as they might in the increasing +darkness. +</p> + +<p> +"You are over sober to-night," said Antonius, when this +scarcely elaborate meal was nearly finished. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Perpol!</i>" replied Drusus, "have I been as a rule drunken +of late? My throat hardly knows the feeling of good Falernian, +it is so long since I have tasted any." +</p> + +<p> +"I doubt if there is so much as a draught of <i>posca</i><a name="r176" href="#fn176">[176]</a> in the +army," said Antonius, yawning. "I imagine that among our +friends, the Pompeians, there is plenty, and more to spare. +<i>Mehercle</i>, I feel that we must storm their camp just to get +something worth drinking. But I would stake my best villa +that you have not been so gloomy for mere lack of victuals, +unless you have just joined the Pythagoreans, and have taken +a vow not to eat fish or beans." +</p> + +<p> +"I do not know that I am especially gloomy to-night," +replied Drusus, a bit testily. "I know little whereon to make +merry." +</p> + +<p> +"The arrows of Amor," hinted Antonius, "sink deep in the +soul, and the god is unfair; he shoots venomed darts; the +poison ever makes the pain greater." +</p> + +<p> +"I would you could endure your own troubles," retorted the +other, "and let me care for mine!" +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Perpol,</i> friend," replied Antonius, "don't be vexed! I +see it is a case of your wanting little said on a sore point. +Well, keep silent, I won't tease you. Doesn't Theognis +declare:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +"'Caress me not with words, while far away<br /> +Thy heart is absent and thy feelings stray'?<a name="r177" href="#fn177">[177]</a> +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +And doubtless you would reverse the saying and put 'my +heart' for 'thy heart.' Forgive me." +</p> + +<p> +But Drusus, now that the ice was broken, was glad to +talk. +</p> + +<p> +"Now, amice, I won't harbour any ill feeling. I know that +you don't look at women the way I do. If you had ever fallen +in love with one like Cornelia, it would have been different. +As it is, you can only stare at me, and say to yourself, 'How +strange a sensible fellow like Drusus should care for a girl +from whom he has been parted for nearly two years!' That's +why I doubt if your sympathy can be of any great solace to +me." +</p> + +<p> +"Well," said Antonius, washing down his <i>puls</i> with a draught +of water from a second helmet at hand, "I can't say that I +would be full of grief two years from the day my beloved Fulvia +was taken from me. But there are women of many a sort. +Some are vipers to sting your breast, some are playthings, some +are—what shall I call them—goddesses? no, one may not +kiss Juno; flowers? they fade too early; silver and gold? that +is rubbish. I have no name for them. But believe me, Quintus, +I have met this Cornelia of yours once or twice, and I believe +that she is one of those women for whom my words grow +weak." +</p> + +<p> +"Then you can sympathize, can feel, for me," said Drusus, +as he lay back with his head on the dark green sward. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, as a poor man who has always possessed nothing can +feel for a rich merchant whose whole fortune is about to +founder at sea. Do not spurn my feeble sort of pity. But do +you know nothing of her, not a word, a sign? Is she alive or +dead? Much less, does she still care for you?" +</p> + +<p> +"Nothing!" answered Drusus, and the sense of vexation +and helplessness choked his utterance. "She vanished out of +sight at Baiæ, as a flash of lightning passes away in the sky. +I cannot imagine the cause of her disappearance. The pirates, +indeed, might have wished to take her for ransom; but no, +they bore her off with never a demand for money from any +friend or relative. I have tried to trace them—the Pompeian +ships on every sea make it impossible. I have questioned +many prisoners and spies; she is not at the Pompeian camp +with her uncle. Neither can I discover that her kinsmen +among the enemy themselves know where she is. And to this +is added that other mystery: whither has my Aunt Fabia vanished? +How much of the account of those who followed her +to the river dock is to be believed—that pirates saved her +from Gabinius, and then abducted her? Upon all, my clever +freedman Agias is gone—gone without ever a word, though I +counted him faithful as my own soul!" +</p> + +<p> +"And what then do you expect?" asked Antonius, not without +friendly interest. +</p> + +<p> +"What can a man, who dares to look the situation in the +face, expect, except something too horrible to utter?" and +Drusus groaned in his agony. +</p> + +<p> +"You mean—" began his friend. +</p> + +<p> +"That the pirates have kept Cornelia and perhaps Fabia in +their vile clutches until this hour; unless, indeed, the Fates +have been merciful and they are dead! Do you wonder at my +pain?" +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Phui!</i> we will not imagine any such disagreeable thing!" +said Antonius, in a sickly effort to make banter at the other's +fears. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't speak again unless you want me your enemy," +threatened Drusus, springing up in fury. Antonius knew his +own interests enough to keep quiet; besides, his friend's pain +cut him to the heart, and he knew himself that Drusus's dread +was justified under the circumstances. +</p> + +<p> +"Do you think there will be a battle to-morrow?" demanded +Drusus, after some interval of gloomy silence. +</p> + +<p> +"I would to the gods it might be so," was his answer; "are +you thirsting for blood?" +</p> + +<p> +Drusus half drew his short sword, which even in camp +never left the side of officer or private during that campaign. +</p> + +<p> +"Thirst for blood?" he growled. "Yes, for the lives of +Lucius Lentulus, and Domitius and his accursed younger son. +I am hot as an old gladiator for a chance to spill their blood! +If Cornelia suffers woe unutterable, it will be they—they +who brought the evil upon her! It may not be a philosophic +mood, but all the animal has risen within me, and rises more +and more the longer I think upon them and on <i>her</i>." +</p> + +<p> +"Come," said Antonius, lifting his friend by the arm, "and +let us lie down in the tent. There will be toil enough to-morrow; +and we must take what rest we may." +</p> + + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p> +On that same night, in a very sumptuous tent, fresh from an +ample dinner and a season over choice wines, the high and the +mighty of Cæsar's enemies were taking counsel together. No +longer were they despairing, panic-stricken fugitives, driven +from their native land which they had abandoned a prey to the +invader. The strength of the East had gathered about them. +Jews, Armenians, and Arabians were among their auxiliary +forces; Asia Minor, Greece, the Archipelago, had poured out +for them levies and subsidies. In the encampment were the +vassal kings, Deiotarus of Galatia and Ariarathes of Cappadocia, +allies who would share the triumph of the victorious Pompeius. +</p> + +<p> +For none could doubt that the Magnus had proved his right +to be called the favoured child of Fortune. Had not Cæsar +been utterly defeated at Dyrrachium? Was he not now almost +a fugitive in the interior of Greece,—liable at any moment to +have his forces cut to pieces, and he himself to be slain, in +battle like a second Catilina, or to die by the executioner's +axe like another Carbo? Had not several delighted Pompeians +just hastened away to Lesbos, to convey to Cornelia, the wife +of the Magnus, the joyful tidings that Cæsar's power was +broken and the war was over? +</p> + +<p> +Throughout the Pompeian camps there was feasting and +revelry, soldiers trolled low songs deriding their opponents, +and drank themselves stupid, celebrating in advance the return +of the victorious army to Italy. Their officers were looking +forward even more eagerly to their reinstatement in their +old haunts and pleasures at Rome. Lucius Ahenobarbus, who +was outside the tent of the Magnus, while his father was taking +part in the conference, was busy recounting to a crony the +arrangements he was making. +</p> + +<p> +"I have sent a freedman back to Rome to see that my rooms +are furnished and put in order. But I have told him that I +need a suite near the Forum, if possible, so as to be convenient +for the canvass when I sue for quæstor at the next election, +for it is time I began on my 'round of offices.'" (A "round +of offices" being, according to this worthy young gentleman, +an inalienable right to every male scion of his family.) +</p> + +<p> +Within the debate was waxing hot. Not that any one had +the least doubts that the Cæsarians were at their last gasp; +rather it was so extremely difficult to decide how the spoils +of victory were to be equitably shared, and what was almost +equally important, how the hostile and the neutral were to be +punished. The noble lords were busy settling amongst themselves +who should be consuls for several years to come, and +how the confiscated villas of the proscribed Cæsarians should +be divided. As to the military situation, they were all complaisance. +</p> + +<p> +"There is no need for a real battle," Pompeius was saying. +"Our superior cavalry will rout their whole army before the +infantry join the attack." +</p> + +<p> +And Labienus, the only officer who had deserted Cæsar, protested +that the opposing legions had long since been thinned of +their Gallic veterans, that only raw recruits composed them now. +</p> + +<p> +Loudly the councillors wrangled over the successor to Cæsar's +pontificate; Scipio, Domitius, and another great noble, Lentulus +Spinther, all had their claims. Domitius was clamouring against +delay in disposing of Cæsar, and in returning to Italy, to begin +a general distribution of spoils, and sanguinary requital +of enemies and neutrals. The contest over the pontificate grew +more and more acrimonious each minute. +</p> + +<p> +"Gentlemen," broke in Pompeius, "I would that you could +agree amongst yourselves. It is a grievous thing that we +must thus quarrel with bitterness, when victory is within our +grasp." +</p> + +<p> +But the war of words went on hotter and hotter. Lentulus +Crus noticed that Pompeius looked pale and worried. +</p> + +<p> +"You look careworn, Magnus," he whispered; "it will be a +relief for the burdens of war to be off your shoulders!" +</p> + +<p> +"I know not how this all will come out," said the general. +"All the chances are in our favour. We have numbers, the best +position, cavalry, the prestige of victory. Labienus cannot be +mistaken in his estimate of Cæsar's men; yet I am afraid, I +am almost timorous." +</p> + +<p> +"It is but the natural fear lest some slight event dim your +excellency's great glory. Our position is too secure for reverse," +remarked Lentulus, soothingly. +</p> + +<p> +"Great glory—" repeated Pompeius, "yes, that makes me +afraid. Remember Ulamhala's words,—they haunt me:— +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +"'He that is highest shall rise yet higher,<br /> +He that is second shall utterly fall.' +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +Lentulus, I <i>know</i> Cæsar is greater than I!" +</p> + +<p> +Before he could continue, Labienus had risen to his feet in +the council. +</p> + +<p> +"An oath! an oath, gentlemen!" cried the renegade legate. +"Swear all after me! 'By Jupiter Capitolinus, Optimus, Maximus, +I swear not to return from the battle until victorious over +Cæsar!'" +</p> + +<p> +All the council rose. +</p> + +<p> +"We swear!" cried a score of tongues, as though their oath +was the lightest thing imaginable. +</p> + +<p> +"Bravely done!" shouted Labienus, while the two Lentuli +and Domitius and Scipio and many another scion of the great +noble houses joined in the oath. "<i>Hem!</i> Most excellent +Magnus, you do not have confidence enough in your own cause +to join us. Do you doubt our loyalty or soldierly qualities!" +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Perpol!</i>" replied Pompeius, with a rather ill-concealed +effort to speak gayly, "do you think, good Labienus, that I am +as distrustful of you as Cæsar ought to be of his men?" +</p> + +<p> +And the Magnus also took the oath. +</p> + +<p> +Outside the tent the sentries were exchanging their challenges. +It was the end of the second watch of the night.<a name="r178" href="#fn178">[178]</a> +</p> + +<p> +"It is late, gentlemen," said Pompeius. "I believe that I +have given my orders. Remember our watch word for to-morrow." +</p> + +<p> +"Hercules Invictus!" shouted one and all. +</p> + +<p> +"Unconquerable' we shall be, I trust," continued the +commander-in-chief. "Good-night, gentlemen; we meet to-morrow." +</p> + +<p> +The council broke up, and filed out of the tent. Lentulus +Spinther paused to cast a look of savage anger at Scipio, who +lingered behind. The contest over the pontificate still rankled +in his breast. That four and twenty hours hence both +of these aristocratic gentlemen might have more pressing things +to think of seemingly entered the head of neither. Lentulus +Crus, Domitius, and Scipio waited after the others were gone. +</p> + +<p> +"I have been wondering all day," said the genial Domitius, +when the tent had emptied, "how Cæsar will comport himself +if he is taken prisoner and not slain in battle. I give him +credit for not being likely to flee away." +</p> + +<p> +"I trust he will die a soldier's death," replied Pompeius, +gloomily. "It would be a grievous thing to have him fall into +my hands. He has been my friend, my father-in-law. I +could not treat him harshly." +</p> + +<p> +"Doubtless," said the ever suave Lentulus Crus, "it would +be most disagreeable for you, Magnus, to have to reward such +an enemy of the Republic as he deserves. But your excellency +will, of course, bow to the decrees of the Senate, and—I +fear it will be very hard to persuade the conscript fathers that +Cæsar has earned any mercy." +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Vah!</i> gentlemen," retorted Pompeius, pressing his hands +together, and walking up and down: "I have been your +tool a long while! I never at heart desired this war! A hundred +times I would draw back, but you in some way prevented. +I have been made to say things that I would fain have left +unsaid. I am perhaps less educated and more superstitious +than you. I believe that there are gods, and they punish the +shedders of innocent blood. And much good Roman blood +has been shed since you had your way, and drove Cæsar into +open enmity!" +</p> + +<p> +"Of course," interposed Domitius, his face a little flushed +with suppressed anger, "it is a painful thing to take the +lives of fellow-countrymen; but consider the price that +patriots must pay for liberty." +</p> + +<p> +"Price paid for liberty," snorted Pompeius, in rising disgust, +"<i>phui!</i> Let us at least be honest, gentlemen! It is very +easy to cry out on tyrants when our ambition has been disappointed. +But I am wasting words. Only this let me say. +When, to-morrow, we have slain or captured our enemy, it will +be <i>I</i> that determine the future policy of the state, and not +<i>you</i>! I will prove myself indeed the Magnus! I will be a +tool no longer." +</p> + +<p> +The three consulars stared at each other, at loss for words. +</p> + +<p> +"Time wastes, gentlemen," said Pompeius. "To your several +commands! You have your orders." +</p> + +<p> +The Magnus spoke in a tone that admonished the three oligarchs +to bow in silence and go out without a word. +</p> + +<p> +"His excellency is a bit tempted to play the high tragedian +to-night," sneered Domitius, recovering from his first consternation. +"He will think differently to-morrow. But of all things, +my good Lentulus (if it comes your way), see that Cæsar is +quietly killed—no matter what fashion; it will save us endless +trouble." +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Mehercle!</i>" quoth the other, "do I need that advice? And +again remind me to-morrow of this. We must arrange the +dividing of the estate of that young reprobate, Quintus Drusus, +who gave us some anxiety two years ago. But I imagine that +must be deferred until after the battle." +</p> + +<p> +And so they separated, and the two armies—scarce five +miles apart—slept; and the stars watched over them. +</p> + + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p> +The sun was climbing out of the dark bank of clouds that +pressed down upon the eastern horizon. The green plain of +Pharsalus lay spread out far and wide under the strengthening +light; the distant hills were peering dimly out from the mist; +the acropolis of Pharsalus itself,—perhaps the Homeric +Phthia, dwelling of Achilles,—with its two peaked crags, five +hundred feet in height, frowned down upon the Cæsarian camp. +The Enipeus and one or two minor streams were threading +their way in silver ribbons down toward the distant Peneus. +The fertile plain was green and verdant with the bursting summer. +The scent of clover hung in the air, and with it the +fragrance of thyme. Wild flowers were scattered under the +feet. The early honeybee was hovering over the dew-laden +petals. Wakeful thrushes were carolling out of the thickets. +A thin grey fog was drifting off of the valley, soon to vanish +in the blue of a perfect day. Clear and sweet the notes of the +trumpets called the soldiers from their camp. The weary men +shook the sleep from their eyes. There was a hurried pounding +of grain in the stone mortars, breakfasts even more hurried. +Then again the trumpets called out their signal. Busy +hands tore up the tent pegs, other hands were folding the +coverings, gathering up the poles and impedimenta, and loading +them on the baggage animals. +</p> + +<p> +The soldiers were grumbling as soldiers will. Drusus, who +emerged from his own tent just as it was about to be pulled +down about his ears, heard one private growl to another: "Look +at the sun rising! What a hot day we shall have! <i>Ædepol!</i> +will there never be an end to this marching and countermarching, +skirmishing and intrenching,—water to drink, <i>puls</i> to +eat,—I didn't take the oath<a name="r179" href="#fn179">[179]</a> for that. No plunder here, and +the sack of Gomphi, the last town stormed, amounted to +nothing." +</p> + +<p> +Drusus would have rebuked the man for breeding discontent +in the army, but at that moment he and every other +around him for once relaxed that stringent discipline that held +them in bands of iron. A third trumpet call cut the air, quick, +shrill, penetrating. +</p> + +<p> +"To arms!" Every centurion was shouting it to his men. +The baggage animals were left unladen. A cohort that was +about to leave the camp in marching order halted, and began +to throw away its impedimenta, when Cæsar himself rode up +to them. +</p> + +<p> +"Fellow-soldiers," said the Imperator, smiling as though he +had to reveal a great piece of good fortune, "we can postpone +the march. Let us put our hearts into the battle for which we +have longed, and meet the foe with resolute souls, for now or +never is our opportunity!" +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Io! Io!</i>" cried a thousand hoarse throats. +</p> + +<p> +Out of confusion came the most perfect order. Drusus ran +to the horse that he had yielded for a pack animal on the +march, saddled, mounted, flew away to Cæsar's side, his heart +pounding in his breast. +</p> + +<p> +"Pompeius is leading out his men!" soldier was shouting to +soldier. Legion after legion filed forth from the camp. Cæsar, +sitting with easy grace on his own favourite charger which he +himself had bred, gave in calm, deliberate voice the last orders +to his legates. Drusus drew rein at the general's side, ready +to go anywhere or do anything that was needed, his position +being one of general aide-de-camp. +</p> + +<p> +Cæsar was facing east; Pompeius, west. Five miles of +mainly level country had extended between the camps, but +Pompeius had pitched on a hill site, with a river and hills to +flank him. There he might safely have defied attack. But he +had come down from the eminence. He had led his army out +into the plain, and the camp was a full mile behind. The long +ranks of the Pompeians were splendid with all the bravery of +war. On the right wing by the river lay his Cilician and +Spanish cohorts, led by Lentulus Crus,—the flower of the Pompeian +infantry. Scipio held the centre with two Syrian legions. +On the left, Domitius was in command and Pompeius accompanied +him. Seven cohorts were behind in the fortified camp. +A great mass of auxiliaries and volunteers, as well as two +thousand reenlisted veterans, gave strength to the lines of +fully recruited cohorts. Out on the left wing, reaching up on to +the foothills, lay the pride of the oligarchs, seven thousand +splendid cavalry, the pick and flower of the exiled youth and +nobility of Rome, reenforced by the best squadrons of the East. +Here Labienus led. The Pompeian ranks were in three lines, +drawn up ten deep. Forty-five thousand heavy infantry were +they; and the horse and light troops were half as many—Spaniards, +Africans, Italian exiles, Greeks, Asiatics—the glory +of every warlike, classic race. +</p> + +<p> +Slowly, slowly, the Cæsarian legionaries advanced over the +plain. Drusus knew that one of the most crucial hours of his +life was before him, yet he was very calm. He saw some wild +roses growing on a bush by the way, and thought how pretty +they would look in a wreath on Cornelia's hair. He exchanged +jokes with his fellow-officers; scolded a soldier who had come +away without his sword in his sheath; asked Antonius, when +he came across him, if he did not envy Achilles for his country-seat. +It was as if he were going on the same tedious march of +days and days gone by. Yet, with it all he felt himself far +more intensely excited than ever before. He knew that his +calm was so unnatural that he wished to cry aloud, to run, +weep, to do anything to break it. This was to be the end of +the great drama that had begun the day Lentulus and Marcellus +first sat down as consuls! +</p> + +<p> +Slowly, slowly, that long snake, the marching army, +dragged out of the camp. The sun was high in the sky; +the last cloud had vanished; the blue above was as clear +and translucent as it is conceivable anything may be and +yet retain its colour—not become clear light. The head of +the column was six hundred paces from the silent Pompeian +lines which awaited them. Then cohort after cohort +filed off to the right and left, and the line of battle was ready. +On the right was the tenth legion, on the left the weak ninth, +reenforced by the eighth. There were eighty cohorts in all, +to oppose one hundred and ten. But the ranks of Cæsar's +cohorts were thin. The numbers were scarce half as many as +in those of the foe. And to confront Labienus and his cavalry +Cæsar had but one thousand horse. His army stood in +three lines, facing the enemy's infantry; but, though it weakened +his own legions dangerously, there was but one thing to +do, unless Labienus was to force around the flank, and sweep +all before him. Six cohorts Cæsar stationed at the rear of his +right wing, a defence against the hostile cavalry. The third +line of the legions the Imperator commanded to hold back +until he ordered them otherwise, for on them lay the turning +of the battle. +</p> + +<p> +Antonius commanded the left, Publius Sulla the right, Calvinus +the centre. Cæsar himself took post on his own right +wing opposite Pompeius. Then, when the lines were formed, he +rode down before his men, and addressed them; not in gaudy +eloquence, as if to stir a flagging courage, but a manly request +that they quit themselves as became his soldiers. Ever had +he sought reconciliation, he said, ever peace; unwillingly had +he exposed his own soldiers, and unwillingly attacked his enemies. +And to the six chosen cohorts in the fourth line he +gave a special word, for he bade them remember that doubtless +on their firmness would depend the fate of the battle. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," he said in closing, while every scarred and tattered +veteran laughed at the jest, "only thrust your pila in the +faces of those brave cavaliers. They will turn and flee if +their handsome faces are likely to be bruised." And a grim +chuckle went down the line, relieving the tension that was +making the oldest warriors nervous. +</p> + +<p> +Cæsar galloped back to his position on his own right wing. +The legions were growing restive, and there was no longer +cause for delay. The officers were shouting the battle-cry +down the lines. The Imperator nodded to his trumpeter, and +a single sharp, long peal cut the air. The note was drowned +in the rush of twenty thousand feet, the howl of myriads of +voices. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Venus victrix!</i>" The battle-cry was tossed from mouth to +mouth, louder and louder, as the mighty mass of men in iron +swept on. +</p> + +<p> +"Venus victrix!" And the shout itself was dimmed in the +crash of mortal battle, when the foremost Cæsarians sent their +pila dashing in upon the enemy, and closed with the short +sword, while their comrades piled in upon them. Crash after +crash, as cohort struck cohort; and so the battle joined. +</p> + + +<hr /> + +<p> +Why was the battle of Pharsalus more to the world than +fifty other stricken fields where armies of strength equal to +those engaged there joined in conflict? Why can these other +battles be passed over as dates and names to the historian, +while he assigns to this a position beside Marathon and +Arbela and Tours and the Defeat of the Armada and Waterloo +and Gettysburg? What was at stake—that Cæsar or Pompeius +and his satellites should rule the world? Infinitely +more—the struggle was for the very existence of civilization, +to determine whether or not the fabric of ordered society was +to be flung back into chaos. The Roman Republic had conquered +the civilized world; it had thrown down kings; it had +destroyed the political existence of nations. What but feebleness, +corruption, decay, anarchy, disintegration, disruption, +recurring barbarism, had the oligarchs, for whom Pompeius +was fighting his battle, to put in the place of what the Republic +had destroyed? Could a Senate where almost every man +had his price, where almost every member looked on the provinces +as a mere feeding ground for personal enrichment—could +such a body govern the world? Were not German and +Gaul ready to pluck this unsound organism called the Republic +limb from limb, and where was the reviving, regenerating +force that was to hold them back with an iron hand until a +force greater than that of the sword was ready to carry its +evangel unto all nations, Jew, Greek, Roman, barbarian,—bond +and free? These were the questions asked and answered +on that ninth day of August, forty-nine years, before the birth +of a mightier than Pompeius Magnus or Julius Cæsar. And +because men fought and agonized and died on those plains by +Pharsalus, the edict could go from Rome that all the world +should be taxed, and a naturalized Roman citizen could scorn +the howls of the provincial mobs, could mock at Sanhedrins +seeking his blood, and cry: <i>"Civis Romanus sum. Cæsarem +appello!"</i> +</p> + +<p> +How long did the battle last? Drusus did not know. No +one knew. He flew at the heels of his general's charger, for +where Cæsar went there the fight was thickest. He saw the +Pompeian heavy infantry standing stolidly in their ranks to +receive the charge—a fatal blunder, that lost them all the enthusiasm +aggression engenders. The Cæsarian veterans would +halt before closing in battle, draw breath, and dash over the +remaining interval with redoubled vigour. The Pompeians +received them manfully, sending back javelin for javelin; +then the short swords flashed from their scabbards, and man +pressed against man—staring into one another's face—seeking +one another's blood; striking, striking with one thought, +hope, instinct—to stride across his enemy's dead body. +</p> + +<p> +The Pompeian reserves ran up to aid their comrades in the +line. The odds against the Cæsarian cohorts were tremendous. +The pressure of shield against shield never abated. Woe to +the man who lost footing and fell; his life was trampled +out in a twinkling! The battle-cries grew fewer and fewer; +shouting requires breath; breath, energy; and every scruple of +energy was needed in pushing on those shields. There were +few pila left now. The short swords dashed upon the armour, +but in the press even to swing a blade was difficult. More and +more intense grew the strain; Cæsarians gave ground here +and then regained it. Pompeians did the like yonder. The +long reach of the line swayed to and fro, rippling like a dark +ribbon in the wind. Now and then a combatant would receive +a mortal wound, and go down out of sight in the throng, which +closed over him almost ere he could utter one sharp cry. +</p> + +<p> +Cæsar was everywhere. His voice rang like a clarion down +the lines; he knew, as it were, each soldier by name—and +when a stout blow was to be struck, or a stand was needed to +bear up against the weight of hostile numbers, Cæsar's praise +or admonition to stand firm was as a fresh cohort flung into +the scale. Drusus rode with him, both mounted, hence unable +to mingle in the press, but exposed to the showers of arrows +and sling-stones which the Pompeian auxiliaries rained upon +them. Cæsar's red paludamentum marked him out a conspicuous +figure for the aim of the missiles, but he bore a charmed +life. +</p> + +<p> +Drusus himself did what he could to steady the men. The +contest in the line of battle could not continue long, flesh and +blood might not endure the strain. +</p> + +<p> +"Imperator," cried Drusus, riding up to his chief, "you see +that this can last no longer. Our men are overmatched. Shall +I order up the third line? The centurion Crastinus, who swore +that he would win your gratitude living or dead, is slain after +performing deeds worthy of his boast. Many others have gone +down. What shall I do?" +</p> + +<p> +Cæsar drew rein, and cast his eyes down the swaying lines. +</p> + +<p> +"I dare not order up the third line so early," he began; then, +with a glance to the extreme right, "Ah, <i>Mehercle!</i> we are at +the crisis now! Our cavalry have given way before the +enemy's horse. They are outflanking us!" +</p> + +<p> +"The six cohorts!" cried Drusus. +</p> + +<p> +"The six cohorts—ride! Make them stop those horse, or +all is lost! On your life, go!" +</p> + +<p> +And away went Drusus. The supreme moment of his life +had come. The whole act of being, he felt, he knew, had been +only that he might live at that instant. What the next hour +had in store—life, death—he cared not at all. The Cæsarian +horse, outnumbered seven to one, had fought valiantly, but +been borne back by sheer weight of numbers. With not a man +in sight to oppose them, the whole mass of the splendid Pompeian +cavalry was sweeping around to crush the unprotected +flank of the tenth legion. The sight of the on-rushing squadrons +was beyond words magnificent. The tossing mass of their +panoplies was a sea of scarlet, purple, brass, and flashing steel; +the roar of the hoof-beats of seven thousand blooded coursers +swept on like the approaching of the wind leading the clouds +in whose breast are thunder and lightning unfettered. Behind +them rose the dun vapour of the dust, drifting up toward +heaven,—the whirling vortex of the storm. It was indeed the +crisis. +</p> + +<p> +The six cohorts were standing, resting on their shields, in +the rear of the extreme right flank of the third line. They +were in an oblique formation. The most distant cohort extended +far back, and far beyond the Cæsarian line of battle. The +hearts of the soldiers were in the deathly press ahead, but they +were veterans; discipline held them quiet, albeit restive in +soul. +</p> + +<p> +On swept the roar of the advancing Pompeians. What +must be done must be done quickly. Drusus drove the +spurs into his horse, and approached the cohorts on a headlong +gallop. +</p> + +<p> +"Forward! I will lead you against the enemy!" +</p> + +<p> +No need of second command. The maniples rushed onward +as though the men were runners in a race, not soldiers clothed +in armour. Drusus flew down the ranks and swung the farthest +cohorts into alignment with the others. There was not a +moment to lose. +</p> + +<p> +"Now, men, if ye be indeed soldiers of Cæsar, at them!" +</p> + +<p> +Drusus was astounded at the resonance of his own voice; a +thousand others caught up the shout. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Venus victrix!</i>" And straight into the teeth of the galloping +hosts charged the thin line of infantry. +</p> + +<p> +The line was weak, its members strong. They were rural +Italians, uncorrupted by city life, hardy, god-fearing peasants +and sons of peasants, worthy descendants of the men who died +in the legions at Cannæ, or triumphed at the Metaurus. +Steady as on a review the six cohorts bore down into action. +And when they struck the great mass of horsemen they thrust +their pila into the riders' eyes and prodded the steeds. The +foremost cavalrymen drew rein; the horses reared. The +squadrons were colliding and plunging. In an eye's twinkling +their momentum had been checked. +</p> + +<p> +"Charge! Charge!" Drusus sent the word tossing down +along the cohorts, and the legionaries pressed forward. It +was done. The whole splendid array of horsemen broke in +rout; they went streaming back in disordered squadrons over +the plain, each trooper striving to outride his fellow in the +flight. Pompeius had launched his most deadly bolt, and it +had failed. +</p> + +<p> +Now was Drusus's chance. No further order had been given +him; to pursue cavalry with infantry were folly; he needed +no new commands. The six cohorts followed his lead like +machinery. The crash of battle dimmed his voice; the sight +of his example led the legionaries on. They fell on the Pompeian +archers and slingers and dispersed them like smoke. +They wheeled about as on a pivot and struck the enemy's left +wing; struck the Pompeian fighting line from the rear, and +crushed it betwixt the upper and nether millstone of themselves +and the tenth legion. Drusus drove into the very foremost of +the fight; it was no longer a press, it was flight, pursuit, +slaughter, and he forced his horse over one enemy after another—transformed, +transfigured as he was into a demon of destruction, +while the delirium of battle gained upon him. +</p> + +<p> +Drusus saw the figure of a horseman clothed, like Cæsar, in +a red general's cloak spurring away to the enemy's camp. +He called to his men that Pompeius had taken panic and fled +away; that the battle was won. He saw the third line of the +Cæsarians drive through the Pompeian centre and right as a +plough cuts through the sandy field, and then spread terror, +panic, rout—the battle became a massacre. +</p> + +<p> +So the Cæsarians hunted their foes over the plain to the +camp. And, though the sun on high rained down a pitiless +heat, none faltered when the Imperator bade them use their +favour with Fortune, and lose not a moment in storming the +encampment. They assailed the ramparts. The Pompeian +reserve cohorts stood against them like men; the Thracian and +other auxiliary light troops sent down clouds of missiles—of +what avail? There are times when mortal might can pass seas +of fire and mountains of steel; and this was one of those +moments. The Pompeians were swept from the ramparts by +a pitiless shower of javelins. The panic still was upon them; +standards of cohorts, eagles of legions, they threw them all +away. They fled—fled casting behind shields, helmets, +swords, anything that hindered their running. The hills, the +mountain tops, were their only safety. Their centurions and +tribunes were foremost among the fugitives. And from these +mountain crests they were to come down the next morning +and surrender themselves prisoners to the conquerors—petitioners +for their lives. +</p> + +<p> +Not all were thus fated. For in the flight from the camp +Domitius fell down from fatigue, and Marcus Antonius, whose +hand knew no weariness, neither his heart remorse or mercy, +slew him as a man would slay a snake. And so perished one +of the evil spirits that hounded Pompeius to his death, the +Roman oligarchy to its downfall. +</p> + +<p> +Drusus sought far and wide for Lentulus and Lucius Ahenobarbus. +The consular had fought on the most distant wing, and +in the flight he and his mortal enemy did not meet. Neither +did Drusus come upon the younger son of the slain Domitius. +Fortune kept the two asunder. But slaying enough for one +day the young Livian had wrought. He rode with Cæsar +through the splendid camp just captured. The flowers had +been twined over the arbours under which the victory was to +be celebrated; the plate was on the tables; choice viands and +wines were ready; the floors of the tents were covered with +fresh sods; over the pavilion of Lentulus Crus was a great +shade of ivy. The victors rode out from the arbours toward +the newly taken ramparts. There lay the dead, heaps upon +heaps, the patrician dress proclaiming the proud lineage of the +fallen; Claudii, Fabii, Æmilii, Furii, Cornelii, Sempronii, and +a dozen more great <i>gentes</i> were represented—scions of the +most magnificent oligarchy the world has ever seen. And this +was their end! Cæsar passed his hand over his forehead and +pressed his fingers upon his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"They would have it so," he said, in quiet sadness, to the +little knot of officers around him. "After all that I had done +for my country, I, Caius Cæsar, would have been condemned +by them like a criminal, if I had not appealed to my army." +</p> + +<p> +And so ended that day and that battle. On the field and in +the camp lay dead two hundred Cæsarians and fifteen thousand +Pompeians. Twenty-four thousand prisoners had been taken, +one hundred and eighty standards, nine eagles. As for the +Magnus, he had stripped off his general's cloak and was riding +with might and main for the seacoast, accompanied by thirty +horsemen. +</p> + + + + + +<h2 id="ch22">CHAPTER XXII</h2> + +<h2>THE END OF THE MAGNUS</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p> +The months had come and gone for Cornelia as well as for +Quintus Drusus, albeit in a very different manner. The war +was raging upon land and sea. The Pompeian fleet controlled +all the water avenues; the Italian peninsula was held by the +Cæsarians. Cornelia wrote several times to old Mamercus at +Præneste, enclosing a letter which she begged him to forward +to her lover wherever he might be. But no answer came. +Once she learned definitely that the ship had been captured. +For the other times she could imagine the same catastrophe. +Still she had her comfort. Rumours of battles, of sieges, and +arduous campaigning drifted over the Mediterranean. Now it +was that a few days more would see Cæsar an outlaw without +a man around him, and then Cornelia would believe none of it. +Now it was that Pompeius was in sore straits, and then she +was all credulity. Yet beside these tidings there were other +stray bits of news very dear to her heart. Cæsar, so it was +said, possessed a young aide-de-camp of great valour and +ability, one Quintus Drusus, and the Imperator was already +entrusting him with posts of danger and of responsibility. He +had behaved gallantly at Ilerda; he had won more laurels at +the siege of Massilia. At Dyrrachium he had gained yet +more credit. And on account of these tidings, it may easily +be imagined that Cornelia was prepared to be very patient and +to be willing to take the trying vicissitudes of her own life +more lightly. +</p> + +<p> +As a matter of fact, her own position at Alexandria had +begun to grow complicated. First of all, Agias had made +one day a discovery in the city which it was exceeding well +for Artemisia was not postponed for a later occasion. Pratinas +was in Alexandria. The young Greek had not been recognized +when, as chance meetings will occur, he came across his +one-time antagonist face to face on the street. He had no +fears for himself. But Artemisia was no longer safe in the +city. Cleomenes arranged that the girl should be sent to a +villa, owned by the relatives of his late wife, some distance up +the Nile. Artemisia would thus be parted from Agias, but +she would be quite safe; and to secure that, any sacrifice of +stolen looks and pretty coquetry was cheerfully accepted. +</p> + +<p> +Soon after this unpleasant little discovery, a far more serious +event occurred. Pothinus the eunuch, Achillas, the +Egyptian commander of the army, and Theodotus, a "rhetoric +teacher," whose real business was to spin, not words, but court +intrigues, had plotted together to place the young King Ptolemæus +in sole power. The conspiracy ran its course. There +was a rising of the "Macedonian"<a name="r180" href="#fn180">[180]</a> guard at the palace, a +gathering of citizens in the squares of the capital, culminating +in bloody riots and proclamations declaring the king vested +with the only supreme power. Hot on the heels of this +announcement it was bruited around the city that Cleopatra +had escaped safely to Palestine, where, in due time, she would +doubtless be collecting an army at the courts of Hyrcanus, the +Jewish prince, and other Syrian potentates, to return and +retake the crown. +</p> + +<p> +Alexandria was accustomed to such dynastic disruptions. +The rioting over, the people were ready to go back to the +paper and linen factories, and willing to call Ptolemæus the +"Son of Ra," or "King," until his sister should defeat him in +battle. Cornelia grieved that Cleopatra should thus be forced +into exile. She had grown more and more intimate with the +queen. The first glamour of Cleopatra's presence had worn +away. Cornelia saw her as a woman very beautiful, very +wilful, gifted with every talent, yet utterly lacking that moral +stability which would have been the crown of a perfect human +organism. The two women had grown more and more in +friendship and intimacy; and when Cornelia studied in detail +the dark, and often hideous, coils and twistings of the history +of the Hellenistic royal families, the more vividly she realized +that Cleopatra was the heiress of generations of legalized +license,<a name="r181" href="#fn181">[181]</a> of cultured sensuality, of veneered cruelty, and sheer +blood-thirstiness. Therefore Cornelia had pitied, not blamed, +the queen, and, now that misfortune had fallen upon her, was +distressed for the plight of Cleopatra. +</p> + +<p> +That Cornelia had been an intimate of the queen was perfectly +well known in Alexandria. In fact, Cleomenes himself +was of sufficiently high rank to make any guest he might long +entertain more or less of a public personage. Cornelia was a +familiar sight to the crowds, as she drove daily on the streets +and attended the theatre. Cleomenes began to entertain suspicions +that the new government was not quite pleased to leave +such a friend of Cleopatra's at liberty; and Agias took pains to +discover that Pratinas was deep in the counsels of the virtual +regent—Pothinus. But Cornelia scoffed at any suggestions +that it might be safer to leave the city and join Artemisia in +the retreat up the Nile. She had taken no part whatsoever in +Egyptian politics, and she was incapable of assisting to restore +Cleopatra. As for the possible influence of Pratinas in court, +it seemed to her incredible that a man of his caliber could +work her any injury, save by the dagger and poison cup. That +an ignoble intriguer of his type could influence the policy of +state she refused to believe. +</p> + +<p> +Thus it came to pass that Cornelia had only herself to thank, +when the blow, such as it was, fell. The eunuch prime minister +knew how to cover his actions with a velvet glove. One +evening a splendidly uniformed division of Macedonian guard, +led by one of the royal <i>somatophylakes</i>,<a name="r182" href="#fn182">[182]</a> came with an empty +chariot to the house of Cleomenes. The request they bore +was signed with the royal seal, and was politeness itself. It +overflowed with semi-Oriental compliment and laudation; but +the purport was clear. On account of the great danger in the +city to foreigners from riots—ran the gist of the letter—and +the extremely disturbed condition of the times, the king was +constrained to request Cornelia and Fabia to take up their +residence in the palace, where they could receive proper protection +and be provided for in a princely manner, as became +their rank. +</p> + +<p> +Cornelia had enough wisdom to see that only by taking the +letter for the intentions written on its face could she submit +to the implied command without loss of dignity. She had +much difficulty in persuading Fabia to yield; for the Vestal +was for standing on her Roman prerogatives and giving way +to nothing except sheer force. But Cleomenes added his word, +that only harm would come from resistance; and the two +Roman ladies accompanied the escort back to the palace. It +was not pleasant to pass into the power of a creature like +Pothinus, even though the smooth-faced eunuch received his +unwilling guests with Oriental salaams and profuse requests +to be allowed to humour their least desires. But the restraint, +if such it can be called, could hardly take a less objectionable +form. Monime and Berenice, as ladies whose father was +known as a merchant prince of colourless politics, were allowed +free access to their friends at the palace. Young Ptolemæus, +who was a dark-eyed and, at bottom, dark-hearted youth, completely +under the thumb of Pothinus, exerted himself, after a +fashion, to be agreeable to his visitors; but he was too unfavourable +a contrast to his gifted sister to win much grace in +Cornelia's eyes. Agias, who was living with Cleomenes, nominally +for the purpose of learning the latter's business, preparatory +to becoming a partner on capital to come from his +predatory cousin, as a matter of fact spent a great part of his +time at the palace also, dancing attendance upon his Roman +friends. Pratinas, indeed, was on hand, not really to distress +them, but to vex by the mere knowledge of his presence. Cornelia +met the Greek with a stony haughtiness that chilled all +his professions of desire to serve her and to renew the acquaintance +formed at Rome. Agias had discovered that Pratinas +had advised Pothinus to keep his hands on the ladies, especially +on Cornelia, because whichever side of the Roman factions +won, there were those who would reward suitably any +who could deliver her over to them. From this Cornelia had to +infer that the defeat of the Cæsarians meant her own enthralment +to her uncle and Lucius Ahenobarbus. Such a contingency +she would not admit as possible. She was simply +rendered far more anxious. Pratinas had given up seeking +Drusus's life, it was clear; his interest in the matter had +ended the very instant the chance to levy blackmail on Ahenobarbus +had disappeared. Pratinas, in fact, Agias learned for +her, was never weary ridiculing the Roman oligarchs, and professing +his disgust with them; so Cornelia no longer had +immediate cause to fear him, though she hated him none the +less. +</p> + +<p> +After all, Pratinas thrust himself little upon her. He had +his own life to live, and it ran far apart from hers. Perhaps +it was as well for Cornelia that she was forced to spend the +winter and ensuing months in the ample purlieus of the palace. +If living were but the gratification of sensuous indolence, if +existence were but luxurious dozing and half-waking, then the +palace of the Ptolemies were indeed an Elysium, with its soft-footed, +silent, swift, intelligent Oriental servants; rooms where +the eye grew weary of rare sculpture or fresco; books drawn +from the greatest library in the world—the Museum close +at hand; a broad view of the blue Mediterranean, ever changing +and ever the same, and of the swarming harbour and the +bustling city; and gardens upon gardens shut off from the outside +by lofty walls—some great enclosures containing besides +forests of rare trees a vast menagerie of wild beasts, whose +roarings from their cages made one think the groves a tropical +jungle; some gardens, dainty, secluded spots laid out in Egyptian +fashion, under the shade of a few fine old sycamores, with +a vineyard and a stone trellis-work in the midst, with arbours +and little parks of exotic plants, a palm or two, and a tank +where the half-tame water-fowl would plash among the lotus +and papyrus plants. In such a nook as this Cornelia would +sit and read all the day long, and put lotus flowers in her +hair, look down into the water, and, Narcissus-like, fall in +love with her own face, and tell herself that Drusus would be +delighted that she had not grown ugly since he parted with her. +</p> + +<p> +So passed the winter and the spring and early summer +months; and, however hot and parched might be the city under +the burning sun, there was coolness and refreshment in the +gardens of the palace. +</p> + +<p> +With it all, however, Cornelia began to wax restive. It is +no light thing to command one's self to remain quiet in Sybaritic +ease. More and more she began to wish that this butterfly +existence, this passive basking in the sun of indolent luxury, +would come to an end. She commenced again to wish that she +were a man, with the tongue of an orator, the sword of a +soldier, able to sway senates and to lead legions. Pothinus +finally discovered that he was having some difficulty in keeping +his cage-bird contented. The eunuch had entertained +great expectations of being able to win credit and favour with +the conquerors among the Romans by delivering over Cornelia +safe and sound either to Lentulus Crus or Quintus Drusus. +Now he began to fear that Pratinas had advised him ill; that +Cornelia and Fabia were incapable of intriguing in Cleopatra's +favour, and by his "protection at the palace" he was only earning +the enmity of his noble guests. But it was too late to +retrace his steps, and he accordingly plied Cornelia with so +many additional attentions, presents, and obsequious flatteries, +that she grew heartily disgusted and repined even more over +her present situation. +</p> + +<p> +Bad news came, which added to her discomfort. Cæsar had +been driven from his lines at Dyrrachium. He had lost a +great many men. If the Pompeian sources of information +were to be believed, he was now really a negligible military +factor, and the war was practically over. The tidings fell on +Cornelia's soul like lead. She knew perfectly well that the +defeat of the Cæsarians would mean the death of Quintus +Drusus. Her uncle and the Domitii, father and son, would +be all powerful, and they never forgave an enmity. As for +herself—but she did not think much thereon; if Drusus was +slain or executed, she really had very little to live for, and +there were many ways of getting out of the world. For the +first time since the memorable night of the raid on Baiæ, she +went about with an aching heart. Fabia, too, suffered, but, +older and wiser, comforted Cornelia not so much by what she +might say, by way of extending hopes, as by the warm, silent +contact of her pure, noble nature. Monime and Berenice were +grieved that their friends were so sad, and used a thousand +gentle arts to comfort them. Cornelia bore up more bravely +because of the sympathy—she did not have to endure her +burden alone, as at Rome and Baiæ; but, nevertheless, for her +the days crept slowly. +</p> + +<p> +And then out of the gloom came the dazzling brightness. A +Rhodian merchantman came speeding into the haven with +news. "Is Cæsar taken?" cried the inquisitive crowd on the +quay, as the vessel swung up to her mooring. "Is Pompeius +not already here?" came back from the deck. And in a +twinkling it was all over the city: in the Serapeium, in the +Museum, under the colonnades, in the factories, in the palace. +"Pompeius's army has been destroyed. The Magnus barely +escaped with his life. Lucius Domitius is slain. Cæsar is +master of the world!" +</p> + +<p> +Never did the notes of the great water-organ of the palace +sound so sweet in any ears as these words in those of the Roman +ladies. They bore with complacency a piece of petty tyranny +on the part of Pothinus, which at another time they would +have found galling indeed. Report had it that Cleopatra had +gathered an army in Syria, and the eunuch, with his royal +puppet, was going forth to the frontier town of Pelusium, to +head the forces that should resist the invasion. Cornelia and +Fabia were informed that they would accompany the royal +party on its progress to the frontier. Pothinus clearly was +beginning to fear the results of his "honourable entertainment," +and did not care to have his guests out of his sight. It was +vexatious to be thus at his mercy; but Cornelia was too joyous +in soul, at that time, to bear the indignity heavily. They +had to part with Monime and Berenice, but Agias went with +them; and Cornelia sent off another letter to Italy, in renewed +hope that the seas would be clear and it would find its way +safely to Drusus. +</p> + +<p> +Very luxurious was the progress of the royal party to Pelusium. +The king, his escort, and his unwilling guests travelled +slowly by water, in magnificent river barges that were fitted +with every requisite or ornament that mind of man might ask +or think. They crossed the Lake Mareotis, glided along one +of the minor outlets of the delta until they reached the Bolbitinic +branch of the Nile, then, by canals and natural water-courses, +worked their way across to Bubastis, and thence +straight down the Pelusiac Nile to Pelusium. And thus it +was Cornelia caught glimpses of that strange, un-Hellenized +country that stretched away to the southward, tens and hundreds +of miles, to Memphis and its pyramids, and Thebes and +its temples—ancient, weird, wonderful; a civilization whereof +everything was older than human thought might trace; a +civilization that was almost like the stars, the same yesterday, +to-day, and forever. Almost would Cornelia have been glad if +the prows of the barges had been turned up the river, and she +been enabled to behold with her own eyes the mighty piles +of Cheops, Chephren, Mycerinus, Sesostris, Rhampsinitus, +and a score of other Pharaohs whose deeds are recorded in +stone imperishable. But the barges glided again northward, +and Cornelia only occasionally caught some glimpse of a massive +temple, under whose huge propylons the priests had +chanted their litanies to Pakht or Ptah for two thousand years, +or passed some boat gliding with its mourners to the necropolis, +there to leave the mummy that was to await the judgment +of Osiris. And down the long valley swept the hot winds +from the realm of the Pygmies, and from those strange lakes +and mountains whence issued the boundless river, which was +the life-giver and mother of all the fertile country of Egypt. +</p> + +<p> +Thus with a glimpse, all too short, of the "Black Land,"<a name="r183" href="#fn183">[183]</a> +as its native denizens called it, the royal party reached the +half-Hellenized town of Pelusium, where the army was in waiting +and a most splendid camp was ready for Ptolemæus and +his train. Cleopatra had not yet advanced. The journey was +over, and the novelty of the luxurious quarters provided in the +frontier fortress soon died away. Cornelia could only possess +her soul in patience, and wonder how long it would be before +a letter could reach Italy, and the answer return. Where was +Drusus? Had aught befallen him in the great battle? Did he +think of her? And so, hour by hour, she repeated her questions—and +waited. +</p> + + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p> +Cleopatra's forces had not reached proportions sufficient for +her to risk an engagement, when a little squadron appeared +before Pelusium bearing no less a person than Pompeius himself, +who sent ashore to demand, on the strength of former +services to the late King Ptolemæus Auletes, a safe asylum, +and assistance to make fresh head against the Cæsarians. +There was a hurried convening of the council of Pothinus—a +select company of eunuchs, amateur generals, intriguing rhetoricians. +The conference was long; access to its debates +closely guarded. The issue could not be evaded; on the +decision depended the reestablishment of the Pompeians in a +new and firm stronghold, or their abandonment to further +wanderings over the ocean. All Pelusium realized what was +at stake, and the excitement ran high. +</p> + +<p> +Cornelia beyond others was agitated by the report of the +arrival of the Magnus. Rumour had it that Lucius Lentulus +was close behind him. If the council of Pothinus voted to +receive the fugitives, her own position would be unhappy +indeed. For a time at least she would fall into the power of +her uncle and of Lucius Ahenobarbus. She was fully determined, +if it was decided to harbour the Pompeians, to try +to escape from the luxurious semi-captivity in which she was +restrained. She could escape across the frontier to the camp +of Cleopatra, where she knew a friendly welcome was in +waiting. Agias, ever resourceful, ever anxious to anticipate +the slightest wish on the part of the Roman ladies, actually +began to bethink himself of the ways and means for a flight. +When finally it was announced in the camp and city that +Pompeius was to be received as a guest of the king, Cornelia +was on the point of demanding of Agias immediate action +toward escape. +</p> + +<p> +"In a few days," were her words, "my uncle will be here; +and I am undone, if not you also. There is not an hour to +lose." +</p> + +<p> +But Agias reasoned otherwise. If Pothinus and Achillas +had really consented to receive the Magnus, flight was indeed +necessary. Agias, however, had grounds, he thought, for hesitancy. +He knew that Achillas, the head of the army, bitterly +opposed the idea of letting Pompeius land; he knew, what was +almost as much to the point, that Pratinas did not care to +renew certain acquaintanceships contracted at Rome. Therefore +the young Hellene calmed Cornelia's fears, and waited as +best he might. +</p> + +<p> +The council had convened early in the day; the herald went +through the squares of Pelusium announcing that Ptolemæus, +"Son of Ra," would receive as his guest the Roman suppliant. +The shore fronting the anchorage was covered with the files of +the royal army in full array. Several Egyptian men-of-war +had been drawn down into the water and their crews were +hastening on board. Out in the haven rode the little fleet of +the Pompeians. Agias had heard the proclamation, and hurried +down to the mole to bear the earliest definite information to +his mistress. Presently, out of the throng of officers and +court magnates on the quay, stepped Achillas in a splendid +panoply of gilded armour, with a purple chiton flowing down +from beneath. Beside him, with the firm swinging step of the +Roman legionary, strode two other officers in magnificent +armour, whom Agias at once recognized as Lucius Septimius, a +Roman tribune now in Egyptian service, and a certain Salvius, +who had once been a centurion of the Republic. The three +advanced on to the quay and stood for a moment at a loss. +Agias, who was quite near, could hear their conversation. +</p> + +<p> +"The yacht is not ready for us." +</p> + +<p> +"We cannot delay a moment." +</p> + +<p> +There was a large open boat moored to the quay, a fisher +man's craft. In a moment a few subalterns had taken possession +of it and there was a call for rowers. Agias, who, like all +his race, never declined a chance "to see or hear some new +thing," took his seat on one of the benches, and soon the craft +shot away from the mole with the three officers in its stern. +</p> + +<p> +It was a short pull to the Pompeian ships; Agias, as he +glanced over his shoulder thought he could see a motion on +board the vessels as if to sheer away from the boat; but in a +moment the little craft was alongside, under the lee of the +flagship. +</p> + +<p> +"Where is Pompeius Magnus?" cried Achillas, rising from +his seat; "we are sent to carry him to the king." +</p> + +<p> +A martial, commanding figure was seen peering over the +side,—a figure that every inhabitant of Rome knew right well. +</p> + +<p> +"I am he; but why do you come thus meanly with only a +fisher's boat? Is this honourable, is this worthy of a great +king's guest?" +</p> + +<p> +"Assuredly, kyrios," began Achillas, "we are forced to +come in this small craft, because the water is too shallow for +larger ships to approach the shore." +</p> + +<p> +Agias knew that this was a lie; he was very certain that he +was about to be witness to a deed of the darkest treachery. +A vague feeling of shrinking and horror froze his limbs, and +made his tongue swell in his mouth. Yet he was perfectly +powerless to warn; a sign or a word would have meant his +instant death. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Salve</i>, Imperator!" shouted Septimius in Latin, rising in +turn. "Don't you remember the campaign I had with you +against the pirates?" +</p> + +<p> +The fugitive general's care-worn face lighted up at the +recognition of an old officer. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Eu!</i>" he answered, "I shall not want for good friends, I +see! How glad I shall be to grasp your hands! But is not +this a very small boat? I see men going on board the galleys +by the shore." +</p> + +<p> +"You shall be satisfied in a moment, kyrios," repeated +Achillas, with suave assurance, "that the quicksands by the +mole are very dangerous to large vessels. Will you do us the +honour to come aboard?" +</p> + +<p> +Agias felt as though he must howl, scream, spring into the +sea—do anything to break the horrible suspense that +oppressed him. +</p> + +<p> +A woman was taking leave of Pompeius on the deck, a tall, +stately, patrician lady, with a sweet, trouble-worn face; Agias +knew that she was Cornelia Scipionis. She was adjuring +her husband not to go ashore, and he was replying that it was +impossible to refuse; that if the Egyptians meant evil, they +could easily master all the fugitives with their armament. +Several of the Magnus's servants came down into the boat—couple +of trusted centurions, a valued freedman called Philip, +a slave named Scythes. Finally Pompeius tore himself from +his wife's arms. +</p> + +<p> +"Do not grieve, all will be well!" were his words, while the +boat's crew put out their hands to receive him; and he added, +"We must make the best choice of evils. I am no longer my +own master. Remember Sophocles's iambics, +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +"He that once enters at a tyrant's door<br /> +Becomes a slave, though he were free before.'" +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +The general seated himself on the stern seat between the +Egyptian officers. Agias bent to his oar in sheer relief at +finding some way in which to vent his feelings; and tugged at +the heavy paddle until its tough blade bent almost to cracking. +The silence on the part of the officers was ominous. Not a +word, not a hint of recognition, came from Achillas or his +Italian associates, from the instant that Pompeius set foot in +the boat. The stillness became awkward. The Magnus, +flushed and embarrassed, turned to Septimius. "I was not +mistaken in understanding that you were my fellow-soldier in +years past?" His answer was a surly nod. Pompeius, however, +reined his rising feelings, and took up and began to re-read +some tablets on which he had written an address in Greek, +to be delivered before the king. Agias rowed on with the +energy of helpless desperation. They were very close to the +quay. A company of the royal body-guard in gala armour +stood as if awaiting the distinguished visitor. For a moment +the young Hellene believed that Achillas was sincere in his +errand. +</p> + +<p> +The boat drew up to the landing; one or two of the rowers +sprang to the dock and made her fast. Agias was unshipping +his oar. His thought was that he must now contrive the escape +of Cornelia. Pompeius half rose from his seat; the boat was +pitching in the choppy harbour swell; the general steadied +himself by grasping the hands of Philip the freedman. Suddenly, +like the swoop of a hawk on its prey, Agias saw the +right hand of Septimius tear his short sword from its sheath. +A scream broke from the Hellene's lips; before the Magnus +could turn his head, the blow was struck. Pompeius received +the blade full in the back, and staggered, while Salvius and +Achillas likewise drew and thrust at him. Agias gazed on, +paralyzed with horror. The general seized his red paludamentum, +threw it over his face, groaned once, and fell. Even +as he did so Septimius struck him across the neck, decapitating +the corpse. The brutal boatmen tore the blood-soaked +clothes off of the body, and flung it overboard, to drift ashore +with the current. And so it ended with Pompeius Magnus, +Imperator, the Fortunate, the favourite general of Sulla, the +chieftain of "godlike and incredible virtue," the conquerer of +the kingdoms of the East, thrice consul, thrice triumphator, +joint ruler with Cæsar of the civilized world! +</p> + +<p> +Agias hastened back to Cornelia to tell her that the danger +was past, that there was no need of a flight to Cleopatra; but +he was sick at heart when he thought of the treachery in which +he had shared, albeit so unwillingly. +</p> + + + + + +<h2 id="ch23">CHAPTER XXIII</h2> + +<h2>BITTERNESS AND JOY</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p> +Cornelia knew not whether to be merry or to weep when +the report of the fate of Pompeius reached her. That she +would be delivered up to her uncle was no longer to be +dreaded; but into the hands of what manner of men had she +herself fallen? Her own life and that of Fabia, she realized, +would be snuffed out in a twinkling, by Pothinus and his confederates, +the instant they saw in such a deed the least advantage. +The splendid life of the court at the garrison city went +on; there was an unending round of fêtes, contests in the +gymnasium and stadium; chariot races; contests of poets and +actors for prizes in dramatic art. To the outward eye nothing +could be more decorous and magnificent than the pleasures of +the Egyptian king. And so some days passed while Cornelia +crushed her fears, and waited for the news that she was sure +would come—that Cæsar was pressing on the tracks of his +rival. +</p> + +<p> +Late one afternoon, as the king and his suite were just +returned from a visit by boat up the river to inspect a temple +under restoration at Sethroë, Agias sought the private apartment +of his patroness. His face was extremely grave, and +Cornelia at once realized that he brought serious news. +</p> + +<p> +"Domina," he said, speaking in Latin to evade the curiosity +of the maids present, "when you are at leisure, I have a curious +story to tell you." +</p> + +<p> +Cornelia presently found pretexts to get rid of all her +women. Agias reconnoitred, made certain that there was +no eavesdropper, and began afresh. +</p> + +<p> +"What I have to say is so different from that which we +feared a few days since, that I scarce know how you will +receive it. I have just learned that your uncle Lucius Lentulus +and Lucius Ahenobarbus made a landing on the coast +the day after Pompeius was murdered; they have been +quietly arrested and the matter hushed up. I believe that +Pothinus intends to execute them without your knowledge. +Only by a friendship with some of the officers of the guard +did I get at this." +</p> + +<p> +Cornelia's lips twitched; her hands pressed on her cheeks +till the pale skin flushed red. In her heart a hundred conflicting +emotions held sway. She said nothing for a long time, +and then it was only to ask where the prisoners were confined. +</p> + +<p> +"They are in the dungeon of the fortress," said Agias. +"That is all that I can discover." +</p> + +<p> +"I must see them at once," declared the lady. +</p> + +<p> +"I do not know how Pothinus will take this," replied the +young freedman; "the discovery of his secret will be rightly +attributed to me, and your ladyship would not care to imperil +my life unless something very great is to be gained thereby." +</p> + +<p> +"I shall miss you very much," said Cornelia, soberly. "But +though Lucius Lentulus has done me grievous ill, he is my +uncle. You must leave Pelusium this very night, and keep +out of danger until Pothinus's vexation can abate. In the +morning I shall demand to see the prisoners and to learn the +eunuch's intentions touching them." +</p> + +<p> +Agias accordingly fared away, much to Cornelia's regret; +but not quite so much to his own, because his enforced journeying +would take him to the Nile villa, where was the pretty +Artemisia. Early on the following day Cornelia boldly went +to Pothinus, and, without any explanations, demanded to see +her uncle. The regent, who had tried to keep the matter +profoundly secret, first was irate, then equivocated, and tried +to deny that he had any Roman prisoners; then, driven to +bay by Cornelia's persistency and quiet inflexibility before +his denials and protests, gave her permission to be taken to +the prison and see the captives. +</p> + +<p> +To pass from the palace of Pelusium to the fortress-prison +was to pass, by a few steps, from the Oriental life, in all its +sensuous splendour, to Orientalism in its most degraded savagery. +The prison was a half-underground kennel of stone +and brick, on which the parching sun beat pitilessly, and +made the galleries and cells like so many furnaces in +heat. The fetid odour of human beings confined in the most +limited space in which life can be maintained; the rattle of +fetters; the grating of ponderous doors on slow-turning pivots; +the coarse oaths and brutish aspect of both jailers and prisoners; +the indescribable squalor, filth, misery,—these may +not be enlarged upon. The attendants led Cornelia to the +cell, hardly better than the rest, wherein Lentulus and Ahenobarbus +were confined. +</p> + +<p> +But another had been before Cornelia to visit the unfortunates. +As the lady drew toward the open door she saw the +graceful, easy form of Pratinas on the threshold, one hand carelessly +thrust in the folds of his himation, the other gesturing +animatedly, while he leaned against the stone casing. +</p> + +<p> +Lucius Lentulus, his purple-lined tunic dirty and torn, his +hair disordered, his face knitted into a bitter frown, crouched +on a stool in the little low-ceiled room, confronting the Hellene. +Cowering on a mass of filthy straw, his head bowed, his +body quaking in a paroxysm of fear, was another whose name +Cornelia knew full well. +</p> + +<p> +Pratinas was evidently just concluding a series of remarks. +</p> + +<p> +"And so, my friends, amici, as we say at Rome," he was +jauntily vapouring, "I regret indeed that the atomic theory,—which +my good Ahenobarbus, I am sure, holds in common +with myself,—can leave us no hope of meeting in a future +world, where I can expect to win any more of his good sesterces +with loaded dice. But let him console himself! He will +shortly cease from any pangs of consciousness that our good +friend Quintus Drusus will, in all probability, enjoy the fortune +that he has inherited from his father, and marry the lady for +whose hand the very noble Ahenobarbus for some time disputed. +Therefore let me wish you both a safe voyage to the +kingdom of Hades; and if you need money for the ferryman, +accept now, as always, the use of my poor credit." +</p> + +<p> +"May all the infernal gods requite you!" broke forth +Lentulus, half rising, and uplifting his fettered hands to call +down a solemn curse. +</p> + +<p> +"It has been often observed by philosophers," said Pratinas, +with a smile, "that even among the most sceptical, in times +of great extremity, there exists a certain belief in the existence +of gods. Your excellency sees how the observation is +confirmed." +</p> + +<p> +"The gods blast you!" howled Lentulus, in impotent fury. +Before further words could pass, Cornelia put Pratinas aside, +and entered the cell. +</p> + +<p> +"Your presence, sir," she said haughtily, to the Hellene, "is +needed no longer." And she pointed down the gallery. +</p> + +<p> +Pratinas flushed, hesitated as if for once at a loss, and +nimbly vanished. Lentulus sat in speechless astonishment +"Uncle," continued Cornelia, "what may I do for you? I +did not know till last evening that you were here." +</p> + +<p> +But ere the other could reply the figure in the corner had +sprung up, and flung itself at the lady's feet. +</p> + +<p> +"Save me! save me! By all that you hold dear, save my +life! I have loved you. I thought once that you loved me. +Plead for me! Pray for me! Anything that I may but +live!" +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Vah</i>, wretch!" cried the consular; and he spurned Ahenobarbus +with his foot. "It is indeed well that you have not +married into family of mine! If you can do naught else, you +can at least die with dignity as becomes a Roman patrician—and +not beg intercession from this woman who has cut herself +off from all her kin by disobedience." +</p> + +<p> +"Uncle," cried Cornelia in distress, "must we be foes to +the end? Must our last words be of bitterness?" +</p> + +<p> +"Girl," thundered the unbending Lentulus, "when a Roman +maiden disobeys, there is no expiation. You are no niece of +mine. I care not how you came here. I accept nothing at +your hands. I will not hear your story. If I must die, it is to +die cursing your name. Go! I have no more words for you!" +</p> + +<p> +But Ahenobarbus caught the skirt of Cornelia's robe, and +pleaded and moaned. "Let them imprison him in the lowest +dungeons, load him with the heaviest fetters; place upon him +the most toilsome labour—only let him still see the light and +breathe the air!" +</p> + +<p> +"Uncle," said Cornelia, "I will plead for you despite your +wrath—-though little may my effort avail. You are my +father's brother, and neither act of yours nor of mine can +make you otherwise. But as for you, Lucius Ahenobarbus,"—and +her words came hot and thick, as she hissed out her contempt,—"though +I beg for your life, know this, that if I +despised you less I would not so do. I despise you too much +to hate; and if I ask to have you live, it is because I know the +pains of a base and ignoble life are a myriad fold more than +those of a swift and honourable death. Were I your judge—I +would doom you; doom you <i>to live</i> and know the sting of +your ignominy!" +</p> + +<p> +She left them; and hatred and pity, triumph and anguish, +mingled within her. She went to the young King Ptolemæus +and besought him to spare the prisoners; the lad professed +his inability to take a step without the initiative of Pothinus. +She went to Pothinus; the eunuch listened to her courteously, +then as courteously told her that grave reasons of state made +it impossible to comply with the request—much, as he blandly +added, it would delight him personally to gratify her. Cornelia +could do no more. Pratinas she would not appeal to, +though he had great influence with Pothinus. She went back +to her rooms to spend the day with Fabia, very heavy of heart. +The world, as a whole, she beheld as a thing very evil; treachery, +guile, wrath, hatred, were everywhere. The sight of +Ahenobarbus had filled her with loathsome memories of past +days. The sunlight fell in bright warm panels over the rich +rugs on the floor of her room. The sea-breeze sweeping in +from the north blew fresh and sweet; out against the azure +light, into which she could gaze, a swarm of swallows was in +silhouette—black dots crawling along across the dome of light. +Out in one of the public squares of the city great crowds of +people were gathering. Cornelia knew the reason of the concourse—the +heads of two noble Romans, just decapitated, +were being exposed to the gibes and howls of the coarse Greek +and Egyptian mob. And Cornelia wished that she were herself +a swallow, and might fly up into the face of the sun, until +the earth beneath her had vanished. +</p> + +<p> +But while she leaned from the parapet by the window of the +room, footsteps sounded on the mosaic pavement without; the +drapery in the doorway was flung aside; Agias entered, and +after him—another. +</p> + + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p> +Drusus ran to Cornelia and caught her in his arms; and +she—neither fainted nor turned pale, but gave a little laugh, +and cried softly:— +</p> + +<p> +"I always knew you were coming!" +</p> + +<p> +What more followed Agias did not know; his little affair +with Artemisia had taught him that his Hellenic inquisitiveness +sometimes would do more harm than good. +</p> + +<p> +Very different from the good-humoured, careless, half-boyish +student youth who had driven down the Præneste road two +years before, was the soldierly figure that Cornelia pressed +to her heart. The campaigning life had left its mark upon +Drusus. Half of a little finger the stroke of a Spanish sword +had cleft away at Ilerda; across his forehead was the broad +scar left by the fight at Pharsalus, from a blow that he had +never felt in the heat of the battle. During the forced marchings +and voyages no razor had touched his cheeks, and he was +thickly bearded. But what cared Cornelia? Had not her +ideal, her idol, gone forth into the great world and stood its +storm and stress, and fought in its battles, and won due glory? +Was he not alive, and safe, and in health of mind and body +after ten thousand had fallen around him? Were not the +clouds sped away, the lightnings ceased? And she? She was +happy. +</p> + +<p> +So Drusus told her of all that had befallen him since the +day he escaped out of Lucius Ahenobarbus's hands at Baiæ. +And Cornelia told of her imprisonment at the villa, and how +Demetrius had saved her, and how it came to pass that she was +here at the Egyptian court. In turn Drusus related how Cæsar +had pursued Pompeius into Asia, and then, hearing that the +Magnus had fled to Egypt, placed two legions on shipboard +and sailed straight for Alexandria. +</p> + +<p> +"And when he landed," continued the young officer, "the +magistrates of the city came to Cæsar, and gave him first Pompeius's +seal-ring of a lion holding a sword in his paw, and then +another black-faced and black-hearted Egyptian, without noticing +the distress the Imperator was in, came up and uncovered +something he had wrapped in a mantle. I was beside the general +when the bundle was unwrapped. I am sickened when I +speak of it. It was the head of Pompeius Magnus. The fools +thought to give Cæsar a great delight." +</p> + +<p> +"And what did the Imperator do or say?" asked Cornelia. +</p> + +<p> +"He shrank back from the horror as though the Egyptian +had been a murderer, as indeed all of his race are. Cæsar said +nothing. Yet all saw how great was his grief and anger. Soon +or late he will requite the men who slew thus foully the husband +of his daughter Julia." +</p> + +<p> +"You must take me away from them," said Cornelia, shuddering; +"I am afraid every hour." +</p> + +<p> +"And I, till you are safe among our troops at Alexandria," +replied Drusus. "I doubt if they would have let me see you, +but for Agias. He met us on the road from Alexandria and +told me about you. I had received a special despatch from +Cæsar to bear with all haste to the king. So across the Delta +I started, hardly waiting for the troops to disembark, for there +was need for speed. Agias I took back with me, and my first +demand when I came here was to see the king and deliver my +letter, which was easily done an hour ago; and my next to see +you. Whereat that nasty sheep Pothinus declared that you +had been sent some days before up the river on a trip to the +Memphis palace to see the pyramids. But Agias was close at +hand, and I gave the eunuch the lie without difficulty. The +rascal blandly said, 'that he had not seen you of late; had +only spoken by hearsay about you, and he might have been misinformed;' +and so—What do I look like?" +</p> + +<p> +"You look like Quintus Livius Drusus, the Roman soldier," +said Cornelia, "and I would not have you otherwise than what +you are." +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Eho!</i>" replied Drusus, passing his hand over her hair. +"Do you want me to tell you something?" +</p> + +<p> +"What is it?" said Cornelia, pressing closer. +</p> + +<p> +"I can never write a cosmology. I shall never be able to +evolve a new system of ethics. I cannot improve on Plato's +ideal state. I know I am a very ignorant man, with only a +few ideas worth uttering, with a hand that is very heavy, with a +mind that works to little purpose save when it deals with +politics and war. In short"—and Drusus's voice grew really +pathetic—"all my learning carries me no farther than did the +wisdom of Socrates, 'I know that I know nothing;' and I have +no time to spend in advancing beyond that stage." +</p> + +<p> +"But Socrates," said Cornelia, laughing, "was the wisest +man in Greece, and for that very reason." +</p> + +<p> +"Well," said Drusus, ignoring the compliment, as a certain +type of men will when the mood is on them, "what do you +wish me to make of myself?" +</p> + +<p> +"I wish you to make nothing different," was her reply, +"for you are precisely what I have always wanted you to be. +When you have read as much as I have," this with an air +of utter weariness, "you will realize the futility of philosophic +study." +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Eho!</i>" remarked Drusus again. "So you would have me +feel that I am turning my back on nothing very great, after +all?" +</p> + +<p> +"And so I mean." +</p> + +<p> +"Seriously?" +</p> + +<p> +"I am serious, Quintus." And indeed Cornelia was. "I +can read Aristotle and Plato, and Zeno and Cleanthes, and +Pyrrho, and a score of others. I can spin out of my own +brain a hundred theories of the universe as good as theirs, but +my heart will not be the happier, if things outside make me sad. +I am sick of the learning that is no learning, that answers our +questions by other questions that are more riddling." +</p> + +<p> +"Ah, scoffer at the wise," laughed Drusus, "what do you +wish, then?" He spoke in Greek. +</p> + +<p> +"Speak in Latin, in Latin, Quintus," was her retort. "I am +weary of this fine, sweet language that tinkles so delicately, +every word of which hides a hundred meanings, every sentence +attuned like the notes for a harp. Let us have our own +language, blunt and to the point; the language, not of men +who wonder what they ought to do, but who <i>do</i>. We are +Romans, not Greeks. We have to rule the world, not growl +as to how Jupiter made it. When you came back from +Athens I said, 'I love Quintus Drusus, but I would love him +more if he were less a Hellene.' And, now I see you wholly +Roman, I love you wholly. And for myself, I wish neither +to be a Sappho, nor an Aspasia, nor a Semiramis, but Cornelia +the Roman matron, who obeys her husband, Quintus Drusus, +who cares for his house, and whom, in turn, her household +fears and obeys." +</p> + +<p> +"<i>O tempora! O mores!</i>" cried the young soldier, in delight. +"When had ever a woman such ambition in these degenerate +days? <i>Eu!</i> Then I will burn my books, if you can get no +profit out of them." +</p> + +<p> +"I do not think books are bad," said Cornelia, still soberly, +"but I know that they can never make me happy." +</p> + +<p> +"What can?" demanded her tormenter. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>You!</i>" +</p> + + +<hr /> + +<p> +So the hours of the afternoon ran on, and the lovers gave +them little heed. But they were not too selfish to refuse to +Fabia's sharing in their joy; and Drusus knew that he was +dear no less, though differently, in the eyes of his aunt than +of his betrothed. And there were duties to perform that not +even the long-deferred delights of the afternoon could postpone. +Chief of these were the arrangements for the immediate +departure of the Roman ladies for Alexandria. Agias, who +was called into the council, was invaluable in information and +suggestion. He said that Pothinus had acted at Pratinas's +advice, when he took Fabia and Cornelia to the palace. The +eunuch had expected to use them half as hostages, half as +captives to be put to ransom. If Cæsar had delayed a few +days, Pothinus would not have lied when he made excuse that +the ladies had been sent up the river. But now Agias believed +that the regent was afraid, having overreached himself, and +it was best to make a prompt demand for conveyance to Alexandria. +This, indeed, proved advantageous policy. The eunuch +made difficulties and suggested obstacles, but Drusus made +his native Italian haughtiness stand him in good stead. It +would largely depend, he said insinuatingly, on the way in +which his demand was complied with, what sort of a report +he made to Cæsar touching the execution of Lucius Lentulus +and Ahenobarbus. During his interview with Pothinus, the +Roman came face to face with Pratinas. No words were +exchanged, but Drusus noticed that the elegant Hellene +flushed, and then turned pale, when he fastened upon him a +gaze steady and half menacing. Pothinus ended by yielding +everything—the use of the royal chariots and horses, the +use of the Nile boats needed for swift transit across the Delta, +and orders on the local garrisons and governors to provide +entertainment and assistance. +</p> + +<p> +As a result Cornelia speedily found herself again journeying, +not this time in a slow barge following the main branches +of the Nile, but by more rapid, if less luxurious, conveyance, +now by land, now by water, hurrying westward. They passed +through Sethroë and Tanis, Mendes and Sebennytus, Xaïs and +Saïs, where were the tomb of Osiris and the great Egyptian +university in this the capital of the mighty Pharaohs who had +wrested the nation from the clutches of Assyria. Then they +fared up the Nile to the old Milesian trading factory of Naucratis,—now +dropping into decline beside the thriving Alexandria,—and +then by boat they pressed on to the capital itself. +Never more delightful journey for Cornelia or for Drusus; +they saw the strange land through one another's eyes; they +expressed their own thoughts through one another's lips; they +were happy together, as if children at play; and Fabia was +their never exacting, ever beneficent, guardian goddess. +</p> + +<p> +Drusus and Cornelia were neither of them the same young +persons who had met in the gardens of the villa of the Lentuli +two short years before. They saw life with a soberer gaze; +they had both the wisdom that experience teaches. Yet for the +time not a cloud was drifting across their sky. Their passions +and hates had been too fierce, too pagan, to feel the death of +even Cornelia's uncle very keenly. Lucius Ahenobarbus was +dead—they had no more thought for him than for a dead +viper. Lucius Domitius was dead. Gabinius and Dumnorix +were dead. Pompeius, the tool of guiltier men than himself, +was dead. Pratinas alone of all those who had crossed their +path remained; but the wily Greek was a mere creature of +self-interest—what had he to gain by pressing his animosity, +if he had any, against them? Cæsar was triumphant. His +enemies were barely lifting their heads in Africa. Doubtless +there was stern work awaiting the Imperator there, but what of +it? Was he not invincible? Was he not about to commence +a new order of things in the world, to tear down the old and +decaying, to raise up a steadfast fabric? Therefore the little +party took its pleasure, and enjoyed every ancient temple of the +Amenhoteps, Thothmeses, and Ramesides that they hurriedly +visited; won the favour of the wrinkled old priests by their +plentiful votives of bright philippi; heard a hundred time-honoured +tales that they knew not whether to believe or laugh +at; speculated among themselves as to the sources of the Nile, +the cause of the vocal Memnon, and fifty more darkened wonders, +and resolved to solve every mystery during a second and +more prolonged visit. +</p> + +<p> +So they came to Alexandria, but on the way called at the +Nile villa where was Artemisia, and, to the great satisfaction +of that young lady and of Agias, carried her along with them to +the house of Cleomenes, where that affable host and Berenice +and Monime received them with open arms. +</p> + +<p> +Their pleasure at this reunion, however, began to abate when +they realized the disturbed state of the city. +</p> + +<p> +"I can't say I like the situation," admitted Cleomenes, as +soon as he had been introduced to Drusus, and the first greetings +were over; "you know when Cæsar landed he took his consular +insignia with him, and the mob made this mean that he +was intending to overthrow the government and make Egypt +a Roman province. If you had not left for Pelusium so hastily, +you would have been present at a very serious riot, that was +with great difficulty put down. The soldiers of the royal +garrison are in an ugly mood, and so are the people. I suspect +the king, or rather Pothinus, is doing nothing to quiet them. +There have been slight riots for several days past, and a good +many Roman soldiers who have straggled away from the palace +into the lower quarters of the city have been murdered." +</p> + +<p> +"I am glad," replied Drusus, "that I can leave Cornelia and +my aunt under your protection, for my duty may keep me continuously +with the Imperator." +</p> + +<p> +The young officer at once hastened to the palace and reported +for service. Cæsar questioned him as to the situation at +Pelusium, and Drusus described the unpromising attitude of +Pothinus, and also mentioned how he had found Cornelia and +his aunt. +</p> + +<p> +The general, engrossed as he was with his business of state +and threatening war, put all his duties aside and at once went +to the house of Cleomenes. It was the first time Cornelia had +ever met the man whose career had exerted such an influence +upon her own life. She had at first known of him only through +the filthy, slanderous verses of such oligarchs as Catullus and +Calvus; then through her lover she had come to look upon +Cæsar as an incarnation as it were of omniscience, omnipotence, +and benevolence—the man for whom everything was worth +sacrificing, from whom every noble thing was to be expected. +</p> + +<p> +She met the conquerer of Ariovistus, Vercingetorix, and +Pompeius like the frank-hearted, patrician maiden that she +was, without shyness, without servility. +</p> + +<p> +"My father died in your army," she said on meeting; "my +affianced husband has taught me to admire you, as he himself +does. Let us be friends!" +</p> + +<p> +And Cæsar bowed as became the polished gentleman, who +had been the centre of the most brilliant salons of Rome, and +took the hand she offered, and replied:— +</p> + +<p> +"Ah! Lady Cornelia, we have been friends long, though +never we met before! But I am doubly the friend of whosoever +is the friend of Quintus Livius Drusus." +</p> + +<p> +Whereupon Cornelia was more completely the vassal of the +Imperator than ever, and words flew fast between them. In +short, just as in the case with Cleopatra, she opened her heart +before she knew that she had said anything, and told of all +her life, with its shadows and brightness; and Cæsar listened +and sympathized as might a father; and Drusus perfectly +realized, if Cornelia could not—how many-sided was the man +who could thus turn from weighing the fate of empires to +entering unfeignedly into a sharing of the hopes and fears of +a very young, and still quite unsophisticated, woman. +</p> + +<p> +When the Imperator departed Drusus accompanied him to +the palace. Neither of the two, general nor subaltern, spoke +for a long while; at last Cæsar remarked:— +</p> + +<p> +"Do you know what is uppermost in my mind, after meeting +women like Fabia or Cornelia?" +</p> + +<p> +Drusus shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +"I believe that there are gods, who bring such creatures into +the world. They are not chance accretions of atoms." And +then Cæsar added, half dreamily: "You ought to be a very +happy man. I was once—it was many years ago. Her name +was Cornelia also." +</p> + + +<hr /> + +<p> +Serious and more serious, grew the situation at Alexandria. +King Ptolemæus and Pothinus came to the city from Pelusium. +Cæsar had announced that he intended to examine the title of +the young monarch to the undivided crown, and make him +show cause why he had expelled Cleopatra. This the will of +Ptolemæus Auletes had enjoined the Roman government to do; +for in it he had commissioned his allies to see that his oldest +children shared the inheritance equally. +</p> + +<p> +But Pothinus came to Alexandria, and trouble came with +him. He threw every possible obstacle in Cæsar's way when +the latter tried to collect a heavy loan due the Romans by the +late king. The etesian winds made it impossible to bring up +reënforcements, and Cæsar's force was very small. Pothinus +grew more insolent each day. For the first time, Drusus observed +that his general was nervous, and suspicious lest he be +assassinated. Finally the Imperator determined to force a +crisis. To leave Egypt without humbling Pothinus meant a +great lowering of prestige. He sent off a private message to +Palestine that Cleopatra should come to Alexandria. +</p> + +<p> +Cleopatra came, not in royal procession, for she knew too +well the finesse of the regent's underlings; but entered the +harbour in disguise in a small boat; and Apollodorus, her Sicilian +confidant, carried her into Cæsar's presence wrapped in a +bale of bedding which he had slung across his back. +</p> + +<p> +The queen's suit was won. Cleopatra and the Imperator met, +and the two strong personalities recognized each other's affinity +instantly. Her coming was as a thunder-clap to Pothinus and +his puppet Ptolemæus. They could only cringe and acquiesce +when Cæsar ordered them to be reconciled with the queen, +and seal her restoration by a splendid court banquet. +</p> + +<p> +The palace servants made ready for the feast. The rich and +noble of Alexandria were invited. The stores of gold and silver +vessels treasured in the vaults of the Lagidæ were brought +forth. The arches and columns of the palace were festooned +with flowers. The best pipers and harpers of the great city +were summoned to delight with their music. Precious wine of +Tanis was ready to flow like water. +</p> + +<p> +Drusus saw the preparations with a glad heart. Cornelia +would be present in all her radiancy; and who there would be +more radiant than she? +</p> + + + + + +<h2 id="ch24">CHAPTER XXIV</h2> + +<h2>BATTLING FOR LIFE</h2> + + +<p> +And then it was,—with the chariots bearing the guests +almost driving in at the gates of the palace,—that Cerrinius, +Cæsar's barber, came before his master with an alarming tale. +The worthy man declared that he had lighted on nothing less +than a plot to murder the Romans, one and all, by admitting +Achillas's soldiery to the palace enclosure, while all the banqueters +were helpless with drugged wine. Pratinas, who had +been supposed to be at Pelusium, Cerrinius had caught in +retired conference with Pothinus, planning the arrangement of +the feast. Achillas's mercenary army was advancing by +stealthy marches to enter the city in the course of the evening. +The mob had been aroused by agitators, until it was in +a mood to rise en masse against the Romans, and join in +destroying them. Such, in short, was the barber's story. +</p> + +<p> +There was no time to delay. Cæsar was a stranger in a +strange and probably hostile land, and to fail to take warning +were suicide. He sent for Pothinus, and demanded the +whereabouts of Achillas's army. The regent stammered that +it was at Pelusium. Cæsar followed up the charge by inquiring +about Pratinas. Pothinus swore that he was at Pelusium +also. But Cæsar cut his network of lies short, by commanding +that a malefactor should be forced to swallow a beaker of +the wine prepared for the banquet. In a few moments the +man was in a helpless stupor. +</p> + +<p> +The case was proved and Cæsar became all action. A +squad of legionaries haled Pothinus away to an execution not +long delayed. Other legionaries disarmed and replaced the +detachment of the royal guard that controlled the palace gates +and walls. And barely had these steps been taken, when a +courier thundered into the palace, hardly escaped through the +raging mob that was gaining control of the city. Achillas, he +reported, had wantonly murdered Dioscorides and Serapion, +whom Cæsar had sent as envoys to Pelusium, and was marching +on the city with his whole army of Italian renegades, Syrian +banditti, convicts, and runaway slaves, twenty thousand strong. +</p> + +<p> +There was nothing to do but to prepare to weather the storm +in the palace enclosure, which, with its high walls, was practically +a fortress in itself. There were only four thousand +Romans, and yet there was a long circuit of defences to man. +But Drusus never saw his general putting forth greater energy. +That night, instead of feasting, the soldiers laboured, piling up +the ramparts by the light of torches. The city was surging +and thundering without the palace gates. Cæsar had placed +the king under guard, but Arsinoë—his younger sister—had +slipped out of the palace to join herself to the advancing host +of Achillas, and speedily that general would be at hand. Cæsar +as usual was everywhere, with new schemes for the defences, +new enthusiasm for his officers, new inspiration for his men. +No one slept nor cared to sleep inside the palace walls. They +toiled for dear life, for with morning, at most, Achillas would +be upon them; and by morning, if Pothinus's plans had not +failed, they would have been drugged and helpless to a man, +none able to draw sword from scabbard. It was a new experience +to one and all, for these Romans to stand on the defensive. +For once Cæsar had made a false step—he ought to have taken +on his voyage more men. He stood with his handful, with +the sea on one side of him and a great city and a nation in +arms against him on the other. The struggle was not to be for +empire, but for life. But the Romans were too busy that night +to realize anything save the need of untiring exertion. If +they had counted the odds against them, four thousand against +a nation, they might well have despaired, though their chieftain +were Cæsar. +</p> + +<p> +Two years earlier Drusus, as he hurried to and fro transmitting +orders for his general, might have been fain to draw aside +and muse on the strangeness of the night scene. The sky was +clear, as almost always in a land where a thunder-storm is often +as rare as an eclipse; the stars twinkled out of heavens of soft +blackness; the crescent of a new moon hung like a silvered +bow out over the harbour, and made a thin pathway of lustre +across the moving, shimmering waters. Dimly the sky-line +was visible; by the Pharos and its mole loomed the vague +tracery of masts. On the west and the south lay the white and +dark masses of the city, now and then brought into clearer +relief as the moonbeams swept across some stately pile, and +touched on its Corinthian columns and nobly wrought pediments. +But Drusus was a soldier; and the best of poets doubtless +work poorly when their lives are hanging in the balance. +Over the flower-strewn walks, under the festooned colonnades, +ran the busy legionaries, bestirring themselves as never before; +while Diomedes, and Hector, and Patroclus, and fifty other +heroic worthies waged perpetual battle on their marble heights +above the soldiers' heads. On occasion Drusus was called to +one of the upper terraces and pinnacles of the palace buildings, +and then he could catch a glimpse of the whole sweep of the +mighty city. Over to the southeast, where was the Jewish +quarter, the sky was beginning to redden. The mob had begun +to vent its passions on the innocent Israelites, and the incendiary +was at his work. A deep, low, growling hum, as of ten +thousand angry voices, drifted upon the night air. The beast +called the Alexandrian rabble was loose, and it was a terrible +animal. +</p> + +<p> +It was midnight. Drusus had toiled since noon. He had +hardly tasted food or drink since morning, but there were three +feet more of brick, stone, and rubbish to be added still to this +and that rampart before it would be secure, and a whole wing +of the overgrown palace must be pulled down to furnish the +material. He had climbed out upon the roof to aid in tearing +up the tiles and to encourage the men by his example, when +some one plucked him from behind on the cloak—it was Cæsar. +</p> + +<p> +"You are not needed here," said the general, in a voice that +seemed a bit strained to keep calm. "Read this—take all the +men you want." +</p> + +<p> +And the Imperator himself held up the torch, while Drusus +took the tablet thrust into his hands and read the hastily scribbled +lines:— +</p> + +<p> +"Cleomenes to Drusus. The ladies are in danger. I will +resist the mob as long as I can. Send help." +</p> + +<p> +Drusus threw down the tablet; forgot to so much as salute +his commander. He had laid off his armour during the work on +the ramparts; he ran for it, put it on with feverish haste. A +moment more and he was running among the soldiers, calling +this and that legionary by name. The troops all knew him, +and would have followed him to the death. When he asked +for thirty volunteers for dangerous service, none demanded of +him the occasion; he simply selected his men as fast as he +might. He secured four chariots and placed in them the fastest +horses in the royal stables and trusted men for drivers. +He mounted the rest of his thirty on other steeds, and the +preparations were over. The gate was thrown open; Decimus +Mamercus, who was his subaltern, led out the little company. +Drusus rode out last, in one of the chariots. The troops on the +walls cheered them as they departed. +</p> + +<p> +In the immediate neighbourhood of the palace there prevailed +an ominous silence. Earlier in the night a few cohorts had +charged out and scattered the street rabble; and the mob had +kept at a distance. There was no light save that of the moon +and the distant glow of the burning buildings. Drusus felt his +breath coming thick and fast, the drops of sweat were hanging +on his forehead, something within was driving his heart +into his throat. "If—" he never went further; unless he +brought Cornelia and Fabia back to the palace unscathed, he +knew the Alexandrian rabble would howl over his unconscious +body. +</p> + +<p> +"Ride!" he commanded, as if the rush of the chariots and +horses would drown the fears that nearly drove him frantic. +"Ride!" +</p> + +<p> +The drivers lashed the teams, the horsemen pricked with +the spur. Drusus caught the reins from his chariot companion, +and swung the lash himself over the four steeds. Faster +and faster they flew down the splendidly paved and built highways. +Temples and majestic public buildings rose in sombre +grandeur above their heads; above them winged "Victories" +seemed springing up into dark void, their sculptured symmetries +just visible in the moonlight. On and on, swift and +more swift—persons began shouting from the buildings which +they passed, now a few voices, now many, now a hundred. A +volley of stones was dashed down from the safe recesses of the +pillars at the head of the long flight of steps leading up to a +temple. Presently an arrow whirred over Drusus's head and +smote on the masonry across the street. There were lights +ahead—scores of torches waving—a small building was on +fire; the glare grew redder and brighter every instant; and +a din, a din lifted by ten thousand men when their brute +instincts are enkindled, grew and grew. Drusus dashed the +cold sweat from his brow, his hand was trembling. He had a +quiver and bow in the chariot,—a powerful Parthian bow, +and the arrows were abundant. Mamercus had taught him to +be a good archer, as a boy. Could he turn his old skill to +account? Not unless his hand became more steady. +</p> + +<p> +Women screamed out at him and his band from the house +roofs; a tile struck one of the chariot horses and made it +plunge wildly; Drusus flung his strength into the reins, and +curbed in the raging beast; he tossed the lines back to his +driver and tore the bow from its casings. His car had rushed +on ahead of Decimus Mamercus and the rest; two furlongs more +would bring him to the house of Cleomenes on one of the +squares of the city. The chariot swung around a street corner +for the final stretch, the way was broad, the buildings on +either side (the residences of the Alexandrian gentry) high; +but the whole street from wall to wall was a seething mass of +human forms. The fire was spreading; the brightening +flames shone down on the tossing, howling multitude—excited +Egyptians from the quarter of Rhacotis, frenzied Asiatics in +their turbans, mad sailors from the Eunostian port and the +Pharos island. At the head of the street the flames were +pressing in upon a stately mansion around which the raging +mob was packed thickly. On the roof of the threatened house +figures could be seen in the lurid light, running to and fro, +flinging down bricks and stones, and trying to beat back the +fire. It was the house of Cleomenes. Insensibly the veteran +who had been driving reined in the horses, who themselves +drew back, loath to plunge into the living barriers ahead. But +Drusus was past fear or prudence; with his own hands he +sent the lash stinging over all the four, and the team, that had +won more than a single trophy in the games, shot forward. +The chariot struck the multitude and went, not through it, but +over it. The on-rush was too rapid, too unexpected, for resistance. +To right and left, as the water gives way before the +bows of an on-rushing ship, the crowd surged back, the +instinct of panic reigning in every breast. Thick and fast, +as quickly as he might set shaft to string, flew Drusus's arrows—not +a shaft that failed a mark, as it cut into the living +masses. The chariot reeled again and again, as this wheel or +that passed over something animate and struggling. The +horses caught the fire of conflict; they raced, they ran—and +the others sped after them. The mob left off howling: it +screamed with a single voice of mortal dread. And before +Drusus or any one else realized, the deed was done, the long +lane was cleared, and the drivers were drawing rein before +the house of Cleomenes. +</p> + +<p> +The heavily barred carriage-way was thrown open, the +valiant merchant and his faithful employees and slaves greeted +their rescuers as the little cavalcade drove in. There was not +a moment to lose. Cleomenes and his household might indeed +have long made good the house against the mere attacks of the +mob; but the rioters had set the torch to some adjacent buildings, +and all efforts to beat back the flames were proving futile. +There was no time to condole with the merchant over the loss +of his house. The mob had surged again into the streets and +was pressing back, this time more or less prepared to resist the +Romans. The colonnades and the house roofs were swarming, +the din was indescribable, and the crackling and roar of the +advancing flames grew ever louder. +</p> + +<p> +The only alternative was a return to the palace. Cleomenes's +employees and slaves were to scatter into the crowd, where +they would easily escape notice; he himself, with his daughters, +Artemisia, and the Roman ladies, must go in the chariots to +the palace. Cornelia came down from her chamber, her face +more flushed with excitement than alarm. Troubles enough +she had had, but never before personal danger; and she could +not easily grasp the peril. +</p> + +<p> +"Are you afraid, carissima," said Drusus, lifting her into +his chariot, "to ride back with me to the palace, through that +wolf pack?" +</p> + +<p> +"With you?" she said, admiring the ease with which he +sprang about in full armour; "I would laugh at Medusa or the +Hydra of Lerna with you beside me." +</p> + +<p> +Cleomenes had been again upon the housetop to watch the +progress of the fire. He came down, and Drusus instantly +saw that there was dismay written on his face. The merchant, +who was himself armed with sword and target, drew the +officer aside and whispered:— +</p> + +<p> +"Pray, Roman, to all your native gods! I can see a <i>lochos</i><a name="r184" href="#fn184">[184]</a> +of regular troops filing into the square before the house. +Achillas is entering the city with his men. We shall have to +fight our way through his thousands." +</p> + +<p> +Drusus uttered a deep and silent curse on himself for the +mad bravado that led him to leave the palace with but thirty +men; why had he not waited to assemble more? He could +ride over the mob; to master Achillas's disciplined forces was +otherwise. +</p> + +<p> +A freedman came running down from the roof, crying out +that it was already on fire. It was a time for action, not +thought, yet even at the moment Drusus's schoolboy Polybius +was running through his mind—the description of the +great riot when Agathocles, the wicked regent of Ptolemæus +Philopator, and his sister Agathocleia, and his mother Oenanthe, +had been seized by the multitude and torn in pieces, bit +by bit, while yet they lived. Cornelia seemed to have caught +some new cause for fear; she was trembling and shivering +when Drusus took her in his arms and swung her into the +chariot. He lifted in Fabia likewise, but the Vestal only +bowed her head in calm silence. She had overheard Cleomenes's +tidings, but, by stress of all the force of her strong +nature, remained composed. Decimus Mamercus took Artemisia, +frightened and crying, into his own chariot. Monime, +Berenice, and their father were to go in the other cars. The +fire was gaining on the roof, smoke was pouring down into the +court-yard, and now and then a gleam came from a firebrand. +The horses were growing restive and frightened. +</p> + +<p> +"Throw open the gate!" commanded Drusus; his anxieties +and despair were driving him almost to frenzy, but the gods, +if gods there were, knew that it was not for himself that he +was fearful. His voice sounded hollow in his throat; he +would have given a talent of gold for a draught of water. +One of his men flung back the gateway, and in at the entrance +came the glare of great bonfires lighted in the streets, of +hundreds of tossing torches. The yelling of the multitude +was louder than ever. There it was, packed thick on all +sides: in its midst Drusus could see bright lines of tossing +steel—the armour of Achillas's soldiery! As the portal +opened, a mighty howl of triumph burst from the people; +the fire had driven forth to the mob its prey. Cornelia +heard the howl—the voice of a wild and raging beast—and +trembled more. +</p> + +<p> +"Cornelia," said Drusus, lowering his head so as to make +himself heard, "do not look above the framework of the +chariot. Cling to it tightly, for we may have to pass over +obstacles. Above all, do not spring out, however much we +may be swayed and shaken." +</p> + +<p> +"I will not, Quintus," and that was all she could be heard +to say in the din. +</p> + +<p> +And so the little cavalcade drove forth. Cornelia cowered +in the chariot and saw nothing and heard everything, which +was the same as nothing. Was she frightened? She did not +know. The peril was awful. Of course she realized that; +but how could calamity come to pass, when it was Drusus +whose powerful form towered above her, when it was Drusus +whose voice rang like a trumpet out into the press swaying +around? +</p> + +<p> +It was very dark crouching in the body of the chariot. She +could just see the face of Fabia opposite, very white, but, she +knew, very calm. She reached out and caught the Vestal's +hand, and discovered that her own was trembling, while the +other's was perfectly steady. But the contest, the fighting all +about! Now the horses were dashing forward, making the +chariot spring as though it were a thing of life; now reined +in sharply, and the heavily loaded car swayed this way and +that, almost to overturning. The uproar above her head passed +the telling by words; but there was one shout, now in Greek, +now in Egyptian, that drowned all others: "Death to the +Romans! tear them in pieces!" Missiles smote against the +chariot; an arrow went cutting into the wood, driving its keen +point home, and Cornelia experienced a thrill of pain in her +shoulder. She felt for the smart, found the mere tip of the +point only had penetrated the wood; but her fingers were wet +when she took them away. Drusus was shooting; his bow-string +snapped and snapped. Once a soldier in armour sprang +behind the chariot when it came to a stop, and his javelin was +poised to discharge; but an arrow tore through his throat, and +he went down to the pavement with a crash. The car rocked +more and more; once the wheels slipped without revolving, as +though sliding over some smooth liquid—not water. Cornelia +felt powers of discriminating sensation becoming fainter +and fainter; a great force seemed pressing out from within her; +the clamour and shocks were maddening. She felt driven to +raise her head, to look out into the raging chaos, though the +first glance were death. Peering back out of the body of the +chariot now and then, she saw a little. The Romans were +charging this way and that, forcing their passage down the +street, barred no longer by a mere mob, but by Achillas's +infantrymen, who were hastening into action. The chariot +horses were wounded, some seriously; she was sure of that. +They could not be driven through the spearmen, and the little +handful of cavalry was trying to break through the enemy and +make space for a rush. It was thirty against thousands; yet +even in the mortal peril, which Cornelia realized now if she +had never before, she had a strange sort of pride. Her countrymen +were showing these Orientals how one Roman could +slay his tens, could put in terror his hundreds. Drusus was +giving orders with the same mechanical exactitude of the drill, +albeit his voice was high-pitched and strained—not entirely, +perhaps, because of the need of calling above the din. +</p> + +<p> +"Form in line by fours!" +</p> + +<p> +Cornelia raised her head above the chariot frame. The +Romans had worked their way down into a square formed by +the intersection of streets. Behind them and on every building +were swarming the people; right across the eastern avenue, +where their escape lay, stood the bristling files of one of +Achillas's companies. Stones and roof-tiles were being tossed +in a perfect hail from the houses, and now and then an arrow +or a dart. The four chariots—one had only three horses left—were +standing in the little plaza, and the troopers were +forming before them. The arrows of the chariot warriors +made the mob behind keep a respectful distance. It was the +triumph of discipline over man's animal sense of fear. Even +the mob felt this, when it saw the little squadron fall into line +with as much precision as on the parade ground. A tile smote +one soldier upon the head, and he tumbled from his horse like +a stone. His comrades never paused in their evolution. Then, +for the first time, Cornelia screamed with horror and fright. +Drusus, who was setting a new arrow to his bow, looked down +upon her; he had never seemed so handsome before, with the +fierce light of the battle in his eyes, with his whole form +swelling with the exertions of conflict. +</p> + +<p> +"Down, Cornelia!" commanded the officer; and Cornelia +did so implicitly—to disobey him at that moment was +inconceivable. +</p> + +<p> +"At them, men!" +</p> + +<p> +And then came a new bound from the horses, and then a +mighty crash and clash of bodies, blades, and shields, the snort +of dying beasts, the splintering of spear-shafts, the groans +and cries of men in battle for their lives. The car rose on one +wheel higher and higher; Cornelia was thrown against Fabia, +and the two women clung to each other, too terrified and +crushed to scream; then on a sudden it righted, and as it did +so the soldier who had acted as charioteer reeled, his face +bathed in blood, the death-rattle in his throat. Back he fell, +pierced in face and breast, and tumbled from the car; and, as +if answering to this lightening of their burden, the hoofs of the +hard-pressed horses bit on the pavement, and the team bounded +onward. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Io triumphe!</i>" It was Drusus who called; and in answer +to his shout came the deep Cæsarian battle-cry from hundreds +of throats, "<i>Venus Victrix!</i>" +</p> + +<p> +The chariot was advancing, but less rapidly. Cornelia rose +and looked forth again, not this time to be rebuked. Down +the moon-lighted street were moving several infantry cohorts +from the palace; the avenue was clear, the mob and hostile +soldiery had melted away like a mist; a mounted officer came +flying down the street ahead of the legionaries. +</p> + +<p> +"The ladies are safe, Imperator!" Drusus was reporting +with military exactitude. "I have lost twelve men." +</p> + +<p> +Cæsar galloped along beside the chariot. He had his horse +under absolute control, and he extended his hand, first to +Fabia, then to Cornelia. +</p> + +<p> +"Fortune has been kind to us," said he, smiling. +</p> + +<p> +"Vesta has protected us," said Fabia, bowing her head. +</p> + +<p> +Cæsar cast a single inquiring, keen glance at the Vestal. +</p> + +<p> +"Your excellency doubts the omnipotence of the goddess," +continued she, looking him steadily in the face. +</p> + +<p> +"That a power has protected you," was his answer, "I am +the last to deny." +</p> + +<p> +But the Imperator and Drusus were exchanging glances; +that a woman of the intelligence of Fabia could believe in +the regular, personal intervention of the Deity in human +affairs was to them, not an absurdity, but a mystery unfathomable. +</p> + +<p> +And so, safe-guarded by the troops, they rode back to the +palace, where the preparations for defence were ready, and all +were awaiting the onset of Achillas. The weary men on the +walls cheered as the carriages with their precious burdens +rolled in at the gate; and cheered again for Drusus and his +eighteen who had taught the Alexandrian rabble how Roman +steel could bite. But Drusus himself was sad when he thought +of the twelve good men that he had left behind—who need not +have been sacrificed but for his headlong rashness. +</p> + +<p> +And how had the mob come to attack the house of Cleomenes? +It was a long story, but in a few words probably this. +Pratinas had come and demanded of Cleomenes that he surrender +the ladies (doubtless because they would be useful hostages) +to go with him to Achillas. Cleomenes had refused, +the more especially as Cornelia adjured him not to deliver them +over to the clutches of such a creature; and Pratinas went +away full of anger and threatenings. How he came to be in +Alexandria, and had returned so soon from Achillas's forces, +if he had indeed gone to Achillas, was neither clear nor important. +But that he had excited the mob to assail Cleomenes's +mansion needed no great proof. Cleomenes himself had seen +his artful fellow-countryman surveying the riot from a housetop, +though doubtless he had kept at a prudent distance during +the fighting. +</p> + +<p> +So ended that exciting day, or rather that night. It was +Cleopatra who with her own hands laid the bandages on Cornelia's +wounded shoulder, but the hurt was not serious; only, +as Drusus laughingly assured her, it was an honourable scar, +as became the descendant of so many fighting Claudii and +Cornelii. +</p> + +<p> +"Ah! delectissime," replied she, "it isn't the hurt that +gives me pain; it is that I was frightened—frightened when +you were acting like one of the Heroes!" +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Mehercle!</i>" laughed Drusus, before he left her to snatch a +few hours of well-earned rest and see to the dressing of his +own bruises, "I would not blame a veteran for being panic-struck +in that mêlée, if he didn't have a chance to swing a +weapon and so keep his heart from standing still." +</p> + + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p> +On the next day Achillas moved up his thousands and +attacked the palace fortifications. There was a desperate +struggle in the streets outside the royal residence; the assailants +were five to the defenders' one, and the mob was arming +to aid in the assault; but the Egyptians soon realized that it +was no light thing to carry barricades held by men who had +fought in Gaul, Britain, Germany, Spain, Italy, and Greece, +and never tasted overthrow. Fiercest of all was the fight at +the harbour, where the navy of the king lay, and which, if +seized, would have put Cæsar at his enemies' mercy. But +here, also, Roman valour prevailed over Oriental temerity. +All the ships that Cæsar could not use were burned. With +the rest he sailed over to the Pharos island, and landed men +to make good the tower on that point of vantage. So ended +the first round of battle; and the initial danger of being overwhelmed +by sheer force was over. +</p> + +<p> +But day after day of conflict followed. Princess Arsinoë +and Achillas quarrelled in the camp of the besiegers, and this +occasioned some respite to the Romans. Still there was no +end to the fighting. Cæsar sent off to Asia Minor, Syria, and +Crete for reënforcements; but these, all knew, could not come +at once. A sharp struggle cleared the houses nearest to the +palace, and the general caused them to be razed and the positions +thoroughly fortified. He seized the low-lying ground +which ran as an insignificant valley down between the halves +of the city and tried to cut his enemies' position in twain. So +the struggle dragged on. Achillas had been murdered by +Arsinoë, and she had placed in command her governor, the +eunuch Ganymed, who was more dangerous by his sly craft +than fifty common generals. One day a frightened centurion +reported to Cæsar that all the cisterns used by the troops were +becoming flooded with sea-water. It was a contrivance of +Ganymed. The soldiers were in a panic, and it was all that +their leader could do to pacify them. And then one of those +strokes of fortune which will always come to a favoured few +was vouchsafed; as the terrified Romans delved in the earth +where rain had seldom fallen, lo! on the very first night of +their toil fresh water bubbled up, and all the danger was at an +end. +</p> + +<p> +But it is needless to tell how the contest was waged; how the +thirty-seventh legion arrived as help, how the wind kept them +off port exposed to the enemy, and how Cæsar sailed out and +succoured them, and worsted the Alexandrian ships. Then, +again, Ganymed stirred the disheartened citizens to build +another fleet, and, by tremendous exertions, a new flotilla arose +to threaten to cut Cæsar off; and there was a second battle for +dear life—this time on sea close by the city; while Roman +and Alexandrian stood staring on the housetops, with their +hearts beating quickly, for defeat meant ruin to the Romans. +And, again, the gods of the waters fought for Cæsar, and the +beaten Alexandrian fleet drifted back to the shelter of its mole +in the harbour of Eunostus. +</p> + +<p> +Next came a great struggle for the possession of the Pharos. +The fighting was severe, the footing on the island hard to +win, up steep crags and rocks swept by volleys of missiles; +but Italian courage seemed inexhaustible. The legionaries, +without ladders or fascines, stormed towers and battlements. +The town on the island was taken and the fort by it; then +came the contest along the mole, driving the Alexandrians to +the fort at the lower end. On the next day the second fort, +too, was taken. There was a bridge at the lower end of the +mole, and the Alexandrians had tried to sail under to attack +the Cæsarians in the western harbour. The legionaries toiled +to fill up the passage. All seemed going well, but of a sudden +befell calamity. +</p> + + +<hr /> + +<p> +Panic will seize the most hardened veterans, and so it was +that day. A flank attack from the Alexandrian ships, and of +other foes by land, a sudden giving way on the part of some +sailors who were defending the working party, and then terror +spread among the three veteran cohorts at the lower fort. +Cæsar had been among his men directing the work, with him +had gone Drusus, as aide-de-camp, and Agias, who had long +been chafing under the restraints of the beleaguered palace +and imagined the position safe and unassailable. The panic +came more quickly than words may tell: a few hostile shouts +from behind, cries of fear and alarm, a volley of darts, and the +men who had hunted the Magnus to his death fled like raw +recruits at their first arrow. +</p> + +<p> +The Cæsarian ships beside the mole began to thrust back, +lest the enemy seize them. The terrified legionaries rushed +from their ranks, cast away shield and cuirass, sword and dart. +Every man cared but to save himself, the spirit of mere fear +uppermost. Cæsar and Drusus rushed into the press, and commanded +and exhorted; they might have better striven to turn +the flight of a herd of frightened cattle; their words fell on +deaf ears; the panic-struck soldiers swept them aside in a mad +dash to get on board the receding shipping. The danger was +terrible. On either side the enemy were rushing down the +mole, and over the defences just forsaken by the Romans. +Cæsar had been caught in the swirl of his men and carried +along despite his resistance. He fell, and Drusus, who struggled +to be near him, ran to his side. +</p> + +<p> +"We must escape, Imperator!" cried he, in his commander's +ear. He saw that there was blood on the general's face, and +for an instant that thought overpowered all others. +</p> + +<p> +"Save yourselves," gasped Cæsar, striving to struggle to his +feet." You cannot aid me." +</p> + +<p> +A burly Egyptian soldier was running toward them, far +ahead of the other enemies, flourishing a battle-axe. Did he +realize the prize that lay almost in his power? Drusus had +not been fighting, but his sword was now out. One blow of +the terrible weapon of the legionary sent the oncomer sprawling +in his own gore. A trifling respite had been gained. +Cæsar steadied himself and looked about him. They were +alone with Agias facing the foe; the legionaries were struggling +one over another at the edge of the causeway, battling +for dear life to force their way into the only galley that had +not thrust off. +</p> + +<p> +"Come," said Cæsar, turning; and the three joined in the +flight. To linger were madness. +</p> + +<p> +It was only a trifling distance across the mole, but a frightful +tragedy was enacted before their eyes as they ran. The +galley by the mole was none too large; as the frightened men +piled into her, the shifting and increasing weight threw her +on an uneven keel; and then came the horror. A cry of mortal +agony burst from hundreds of throats as the ship capsized. +Drusus, as he ran, saw, but for a twinkling, her deck black +with writhing men, then her curving sides and keel, ere all +vanished behind the embankment of the mole. The three +fugitives ran to the edge of the causeway: below them, the +water full of men battling for life; behind, the foe, now fully +aware of their advantage and pressing on with exultant shouts. +Never had the Imperator been in greater peril. Drusus +glanced at his chief and saw that he was very pale, evidently +hurt in the scuffle. There was not a ship within hail, not a +ship within two arrow-flights; and all seemed pulling back as +if to escape from the danger. +</p> + +<p> +"Leap, swim!" cried Cæsar, casting off his breastplate.<a name="r185" href="#fn185">[185]</a> +</p> + +<p> +"There is no ship within reach, Imperator," replied the +young man, gravely. +</p> + +<p> +"You are young and strong," was his answer, "and will +come away safe." Cæsar was preparing to spring over the +edge. +</p> + +<p> +"And you?" cried Drusus, catching him by the wrist. He +knew that Cæsar could never swim the distance to the nearest +ship. +</p> + +<p> +"In the hands of the Fates." +</p> + +<p> +But Agias, whose eyes had been straining out into the +western harbour, cried, "Help! A galley is coming!" +</p> + +<p> +"Imperator," said Drusus, "you must wait for this galley." +</p> + +<p> +The foe were almost on them. +</p> + +<p> +"Are you mad?" was the exclamation of the general. +</p> + +<p> +"I can hold them off until it is safe to swim," and Drusus +had covered himself behind a coping in the masonry. +</p> + +<p> +Cæsar measured the distance with his eye. +</p> + +<p> +"We play at dice with Fortuna, whatever we do," was his +comment. "Come, then." And the three steadied themselves +on the narrow footing behind the parapet, one thrust being +enough to send them headlong. Fortunately weapons were +ready—thrown away by the luckless fugitives. When the +Alexandrians rushed up, three pila crashed in upon them, and, +caught unawares by the little volley, they held back an instant. +The three desperate men were counting their hearts' beats, +while the distance from the friendly galley lessened. Then +the rush came, but it was met, and, narrow as was the ledge, +the attempt to carry it failed. The victors were stripping the +dead, and, thus engaged, few joined in the attack. Cæsar +had laid down his paludamentum, and the attackers thought +they had to deal simply with three ordinary Romans, who +meant to sell their lives dearly. Another rush; the Imperator +was forced hard, so that another push would have sent him +plunging into the sea; but his companions sent the attackers +reeling back, and there was more breathing time. The Alexandrians +had received a taste of these Roman blades, and they +did not enjoy it. Stripping the dead and picking up lost arms +was more profitable than bearding the three lions. The galley +was drawing nearer. Drusus began to think of something else +besides thrusting at men before him. +</p> + +<p> +"They will give us time to escape, Imperator." +</p> + +<p> +"I think so;" but as Cæsar spoke all three started in dismay. +There was a new face among the little band immediately +opposed to them—Pratinas. +</p> + +<p> +The Greek had never looked so handsome as in armour. +His beautifully polished mail sat on him with perfect grace; +he was a model for an artist's Ares, the beautiful genius of +battle. <i>He</i>, at least, knew whose were those three stern, set +faces defiantly peering over the low parapet that ran waist-high +along the edge of the mole. +</p> + +<p> +"At them!" cried the Hellene. "A thousand drachmas to +the man who brings the middle Roman down!" +</p> + +<p> +The "middle Roman" was Cæsar. The enemy came on +again, this time some springing over the parapet to run along +the narrow outer platform and attack from either side. But +the galley was still nearer. +</p> + +<p> +"Throw off your armour and leap!" It was Drusus who +commanded now, and Cæsar who obeyed. The Imperator tore +off his greaves and helmet, caught his general's cloak in his +teeth, that it might not fall as a trophy to the foe, and sprang +down into the waves; it was all done in a twinkling. But, +quick as the leap had been, it was but just in time. A rush +of irresistible numbers carried Drusus off of his feet, and he +fell also—but fell in all his armour. It was an instant too +crowded for sensations. He just realized that his helmet +tumbled from his head as he fell backward. The weight of +his greaves righted him while he was in the air. He struck +the water with his feet. There was a chilling shock; and then, +as he went down, the shield on his left arm caught the water +in its hollow and bore him upward. Nature reasserted itself; +by a mighty tug at the straps he wrenched away his breastplate, +and could make shift to float. The short harbour +waves lifted him, and he saw Cæsar striking out boldly toward +the now rapidly approaching galley. Even as the general +swam, Drusus observed that he held up a package of papyri in +his left hand to keep it out of the wet; in uttermost perils +Cæsar could not forget his books. But while the young man +gazed seaward, shook the water from his eyes, and struck out +to reach the friendly galley, groans and shouts arose from the +waters near beside him. A voice—Agias's voice—was calling +out for help. The sound of his freedman's cries drove the +Roman to action. Twice the waves lifted him, and he saw +nothing; but at the third time he lit on two forms clinging to +a bit of wreckage, and yet struggling together. A few powerful +strokes sent him beside them, and, to his unutterable +astonishment, he beheld in the person who was battling with +Agias for possession of the float none other than Pratinas. +There are times when nothing has opportunity to appear wonderful. +This moment was one of these. Actions, not words, +were wanted. The elder Greek had made shift to draw a +dagger, and was making a vicious effort to stab the other, who +had gripped him round the neck with a tenacity that would +end only with life. One stroke of Drusus's fist as he surged +alongside the wreckage sent the dagger flying; and in a +twinkling he had borne Pratinas down and had him pinioned +fast on the planking of the rude raft. There was a great shout +rising from the enemy on the mole. A few darts spat in the +water beside the fugitives; but at the sight of the approaching +galley the Alexandrians gave way, for on her decks were +swarming archers and slingers, and her powerful ballistæ were +already working havoc. The pulsations of her banks of oars +grew slower as she swept up to the fugitives, the great column +of white spray curling around her prow sank, and while she +drifted past them a boat shot forth. In a minute Drusus was +standing on her deck, and the sailors were passing up Pratinas, +still feebly resisting, and Agias, who was weak and helpless +with his wounds. On the poop Cæsar was conversing with +a seaman of magnificent presence, who was in the act of assuring +the Imperator that his vessel and crew were at the general's +service. +</p> + + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p> +The boats of the rescuer were pulling about, taking up such +few Romans as had been able to keep afloat; but Drusus was +too exhausted to give them further heed. He realized that the +vessel he was aboard was no member of the Roman squadron, +that its crew were neither Cæsarians nor Alexandrians. Deft +hands aided him off with his water-soaked clothing, and placed +bandages on his bruises and cuts. A beaker of spiced wine, +the like of which he had never drunk before, sent a thrill of +reinvigorated life through his veins. When he came back upon +the deck he found Cæsar—pale, yet, as ever, active and untiring—still +conversing with the captain of the vessel. The +Imperator had a bandage drawn across his forehead, but otherwise +he seemed none the worse for his recent danger. The +galley, under a swinging oar, was pulling back across the +"Great Harbour" to the palace quay. The battle was over; +four hundred good Roman lives had been lost, but the disaster +had not entailed any serious compromise of Cæsar's position. +There was no need of continuing at the Pharos, and it was well +to assure the anxious garrison at the palace-fortress that their +general was safe and sound. +</p> + +<p> +Drusus, as the one thing natural under the circumstances, +went to the captain of his rescuers to express his obligation +and gratitude. +</p> + +<p> +"This is Quintus Livius Drusus," said Cæsar, good-naturedly, +already at his ease, to the strange commander, +"who serves on my staff. In saving him I owe you a debt, +O Demetrius, in addition to my own rescue." +</p> + +<p> +The stranger caught Drusus by both hands. +</p> + +<p> +"Are you indeed the son of Sextus Drusus of Præneste?" +he questioned with eagerness. +</p> + +<p> +"Assuredly, my good sir," replied the young Roman, a bit +confused at the other's impetuosity. +</p> + +<p> +"And did your father never tell you of a certain Demetrius, +a Greek, who was his friend?" +</p> + +<p> +"He did; this Demetrius was cast into prison and condemned +by Pompeius; my father secured his escape;" and +Drusus hesitated. His mind had worked rapidly, and he +could jump at a conclusion. +</p> + +<p> +"Say it out, your excellency," pressed the seaman. +</p> + +<p> +"He became a pirate, though my father did not blame him +overmuch." +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Eu!</i>" interrupted Cæsar, as if to prevent a moment of +awkwardness. "Before King Minos's days nothing was more +honourable. I have known some excellent men who were +pirates." +</p> + +<p> +But Demetrius had, in true Eastern fashion, fallen on his +knees and kissed the feet of Drusus. +</p> + +<p> +"The son of my preserver! I have saved him! Praises to +Mithras!" +</p> + +<p> +After this, there was no longer any constraint on the part +of rescuers or rescued. And that evening, when all were safe +behind the palace walls, Cæsar called the pirate chief into the +hall where he had been banqueting with Cleopatra, Fabia, and +Cornelia, and his favourite officers, and asked for an account +of his life. A strange enough story it was Demetrius had to +tell, though Cornelia had heard it before; of two voyages to +wealthy Taprobane,<a name="r186" href="#fn186">[186]</a> one as far as the Golden Chersonesos,<a name="r187" href="#fn187">[187]</a> +almost to the Silk Land, Serica, of voyages out beyond the +Pillars of Hercules into the Sea of Darkness,—everywhere +that keel of ship had ploughed within the memory of man. +</p> + +<p> +"And the men that drove you to freebooting?" asked Cæsar, +when the company had ceased applauding this recital, which +the sailor set forth with a spontaneous elegance that made it +charming. +</p> + +<p> +"I have said that they were Lucius Domitius, whom the +gods have rewarded, and a certain Greek." +</p> + +<p> +"The Greek's name was—" +</p> + +<p> +"Kyrios," said Demetrius, his fine features contracting with +pain and disgust, "I do not willingly mention his name. He +has done me so great a wrong, that I only breathe his name +with a curse. Must you know who it was that took my child, +my Daphne,—though proof I have not against him, but only +the warnings of an angry heart?" +</p> + +<p> +"But he was—" pressed Cæsar. +</p> + +<p> +"Menon." And as he spoke he hissed the words between +his teeth. "He is one knave among ten thousand. Why +burden your excellency with remembering him?" +</p> + +<p> +So the conversation went on, and Cæsar told how he had +been taken prisoner, when a young man, by pirates near +Rhodes, and how he had been kept captive by them on a little +isle while his ransom was coming. +</p> + +<p> +"Ah!" interrupted Demetrius, "I have heard the whole +tale from one of my men who was there. You, kyrios, +behaved like a prince. You bade your captors take fifty +talents instead of twenty, as they asked, and wrote verses and +declaimed to your guards all the time you were awaiting the +money, and joined in all their sports; howbeit, you kept +telling them that you would crucify them all for the matter." +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Hem!</i>" laughed Cæsar. "Didn't I make good the +threat?" +</p> + +<p> +"You did with all save this man, who got away," was his +unflinching answer. "Although in mercy you strangled all +your captors before you had them put on the crosses." +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Hei!</i>" quoth the Imperator. "I should have spared +them to give me criticism of those verses now." +</p> + +<p> +"Kyrios," rejoined Demetrius, "the man who survived +assures me that the verses at least were wretched, though +your excellency was a very good wrestler." +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Euge!</i> Bravo!" cried Cæsar, and all the company joined +in. "I must take a few of your men back to Rome, for we +need critics for our rough Latin versifiers." +</p> + +<p> +Drusus, as soon as the laugh passed away, arose, and +addressed his chief:— +</p> + +<p> +"Imperator," he said, "Agias this morning dragged from off +the mole with him into the water one of the most dangerous +men in the councils of our enemies. I mean, as you know, +Pratinas the Greek. He is now in the palace prison, but +every one is aware that, so long as he so much as lives, we +are hardly safe. What shall be done?" +</p> + +<p> +Cæsar frowned. +</p> + +<p> +"This is hardly a basilica for a trial," he replied, "but +'<i>inter arma silent leges</i>.' Tell the centurions on guard to bring +him here. I imagine we must grant him the form of an +examination." +</p> + +<p> +Drusus went out to give the necessary orders. +</p> + +<p> +"You did not see Agias's prisoner?" asked Cornelia of +Demetrius, who was now an old friend. +</p> + +<p> +"I did not," answered the pirate prince, pouring down the +contents of a prodigious beaker at a single draught. "A very +desperate man, I imagine. But it is hard for me to blame +any one so long as he fights openly. Still," he added, with a +laugh, "I mustn't express such sentiments, now that his +excellency has given me this." And he tossed over to Cornelia +a little roll, tiny but precious, for it was a general +pardon, in the name of the Republic, for all past offences, +by land or sea, against the peace. "<i>Babai!</i>" continued +Demetrius, lolling back his great length on the couch, "who +would have imagined that I, just returning from a mere voyage +to Delos to get rid of some slaves, should save the lives +of my cousin, my benefactor's son, and Cæsar himself, and +become once more an honest man. Gods! gods! avert the +misfortunes that come from too much good fortune!" +</p> + +<p> +"Was Agias badly wounded?" asked Cornelia, with some +concern. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh," replied his cousin, "he will do well. If his precious +captive had thrust his dagger a bit deeper, we might have a +sorry time explaining it all to that pretty little girl—Artemisia +he calls her—whom he dotes upon. By the bye," +continued Demetrius, as entirely at his ease in the company +as though he had been one of the world's high-born and +mighty, "can your ladyship tell me where Artemisia is just +now? She was a very attractive child." +</p> + +<p> +"Assuredly," said Cornelia. "She is here in the palace, +very anxious, I doubt not, about Agias. Come, I will send +for her. You shall tell her all about his escape." +</p> + +<p> +Demetrius appeared pleased, and Cornelia whispered to a +serving-lad, who immediately went out. +</p> + +<p> +The tramp of heavy feet sounded on the mosaics outside +the banqueting room; the tapestry over the doorway was +thrust aside, and in the dim lamplight—for it had long been +dark—two rigid soldiers in armour could be seen, standing at +attention. Drusus stepped past them, and saluted. +</p> + +<p> +"The prisoner is here, Imperator," he said. +</p> + +<p> +"Bring him in," replied Cæsar, laying down his wine-cup. +</p> + +<p> +The curtain swayed again, and the rest of a decuria of +troops entered. In their centre was a figure whose manacles +were clinking ominously. In the uncertain light it was only +possible to see that the prisoner was bent and shivering with +fright. The general shrugged his shoulders in disgust. +</p> + +<p> +"This is the sort of creature, Drusus," quoth he, derisively, +"that is so dangerous that we must despatch him at once? +<i>Phui!</i> Let him stand forth. I suppose he can still speak?" +</p> + +<p> +Pratinas made a pitiable picture. The scuffle and wetting +had done little benefit to his clothes; his armour the pirates +had long since appropriated; his hair, rather long through +affectation, hung in disorder around his neck. He had shaved +off his "philosopher's" beard, and his smooth cheeks showed +ugly scratches. He was as pale as white linen, and quaking +like a blade of grass in the wind, the very antithesis of the +splendid Ares of the fight on the mole. +</p> + +<p> +"Your name is Pratinas?" began Cæsar, with the snappish +energy of a man who discharges a disagreeable formality. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, despotes," began the other, meekly; but as he did so +he raised his head, and the rays of one of the great candelabra +fell full on his face. In a twinkling a shout, or rather a scream, +had broken from Demetrius. The pirate had leaped from his +couch, and, with straining frame and dilated eyes, sprang +between the prisoner and his judge. +</p> + +<p> +"Menon!" The word smote on the captive like the missile +of a catapult. He reeled back, almost to falling; his eyes +closed involuntarily. His face had been pale before, now it +was swollen, as with the sight of a horror. +</p> + +<p> +"Demetrius!" and at this counter exclamation, the cornered +man burst into a howl of animal fear. And well he might, for +Demetrius had sprung upon him as a tiger upon an antelope. +One of the guards indiscreetly interposed, and a stroke of the +pirate's fist sent the soldier sprawling. Demetrius caught his +victim around the body, and crushed the wretched man in +beneath his grasp. The pseudo-Pratinas did not cry out twice. +He had no breath. Demetrius tore him off of his feet and +shook him in mid-air. +</p> + +<p> +"Daphne! Daphne!" thundered the awful pirate; "speak—or +by the infernal gods—" +</p> + +<p> +"Put him down!" shouted Cæsar and Drusus. They were +almost appealing to an unchained lion roaring over his prey, +Drusus caught one of Demetrius's arms, and with all his +strength tore it from its grasp. +</p> + +<p> +"The man cannot say a word! you are choking him," he +cried in the pirate's ear. +</p> + +<p> +Demetrius relaxed his mighty grip. Pratinas, for so we still +call him, leaned back against one of the soldiers, panting and +gasping. Drusus took his assailant by the arm, and led him +back to a seat. Cæsar sat waiting until the prisoner could +speak. +</p> + +<p> +"Pratinas," said the Imperator, sternly, "as you hope for +an easy death or a hard one, tell this man the truth about his +daughter." +</p> + +<p> +Pratinas drew himself together by a mighty effort. For an +instant he was the former easy, elegant, versatile Hellene. +When he answered it was with the ring of triumph and +defiance. +</p> + +<p> +"Imperator, it would be easy to tell a lie, for there is no +means of proof at hand. This man," with a derisive glance +at his enemy, "says that I know something about his daughter. +Doubtless, though, since he has pursued for recent years so +noble an avocation, it were more grateful if he thanked me for +caring for the deserted girl. Well, I kept her until she was +sufficiently old, and then—for I was at the time quite poor—disposed +of her to a dealer at Antioch, who was planning to +take a slave caravan to Seleucia. My good friend probably +will find his daughter in some Parthian harem, unless—" +</p> + +<p> +Cornelia had arisen and was whispering to Drusus; the +latter turned and held the raging pirate in his seat. Pratinas +had made of every word a venomed arrow, and each and all +struck home. The workings of Demetrius's face were frightful, +the beads of agony stood on his brows,—doubtless he had +always feared nothing less,—the certainty was awful. Cornelia +looked upon him half-anxious, yet serene and smiling. Drusus, +too, seemed composed and expectant. The Imperator gazed +straight before him, his eyes searching the prisoner through +and through, and under the glance the Greek again showed +signs of fear and nervousness. +</p> + +<p> +The curtain at the opposite end of the hall rustled, Cornelia +rose and walked to the doorway, and returned, leading Artemisia +by the hand. The girl was dressed in a pure white +chiton; her thick hair was bound back with a white fillet, but +in the midst of its mass shone a single golden crescent studded +with little gems. She came with shy steps and downcast eyes—abashed +before so many strangers; and, as she came, all gazed +at her in admiration, not as upon the bright beauty of a rose, +but the perfect sweetness of a modest lily. Cornelia led her +on, until they stood before the prisoner. +</p> + +<p> +"Artemisia," said Cornelia, in a low voice, "have you ever +seen this man before?" +</p> + +<p> +Artemisia raised her eyes, and, as they lit on Pratinas, there +was in them a gleam of wonder, then of fear, and she shrank +back in dread, so that Cornelia threw her arm about her to +comfort her. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>A! A!</i>" and the girl began to cry. "Has he found me? +Will he take me? Pity! mercy! Pratinas!" +</p> + +<p> +But no one had paid her any more attention. It was Cæsar +who had sprung from his seat. +</p> + +<p> +"Wretch!" and his terrible eyes burned into Pratinas's guilty +breast, so that he writhed, and held down his head, and began +to mutter words inaudible. "Can you tell the truth to save +yourself the most horrible tortures human wit can devise?" +</p> + +<p> +But Pratinas had nothing to say. +</p> + +<p> +Again Demetrius leaped upon him. The pirate was a frantic +animal. His fingers moved as though they were claws to pluck +the truth from the offender's heart. He hissed his question +between teeth that ground together in frenzy. +</p> + +<p> +"How did you get her? Where from? When?" +</p> + +<p> +Pratinas choked for utterance. +</p> + +<p> +"Artemisia! Daphne! Yours! I lost her! Ran away at +Rome!" +</p> + +<p> +The words shook out of him like water from a well-filled +flask. Demetrius relaxed his hold. A whole flood of conflicting +emotions was displayed upon his manly face. He turned +to Artemisia. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Makaira!</i> dearest! don't you know me?" he cried, holding +outstretched his mighty arms. +</p> + +<p> +"I am afraid!" sobbed poor Artemisia in dismay. +</p> + +<p> +"Come!" It was Cornelia who spoke; and, with the daughter +crying softly on one arm, and the father dragged along in a +confused state of ecstasy on the other, she led them both out +of the room. +</p> + +<p> +Pratinas was on his knees before Cæsar. The Hellene was +again eloquent—eloquent as never before. In the hour of +extremity his sophistry and his rhetoric did not leave him. +His antitheses, epigrams, well-rounded maxims, figures of +speech, never were at a better command. For a time, charmed +by the flow of his own language, he gathered strength and confidence, +and launched out into bolder flights of subtly wrought +rhetoric. He excused, explained away each fault, vivified +and magnified a hundred non-existent virtues, reared a splendid +word-fabric in praise of clemency. To what end? Before +him sat Cæsar, and Drusus, and a dozen Romans more, who, +with cold, unmoved Italian faces, listened to his artificial eloquence, +and gave no sign of pity. And as he went on, the +sense of his hopeless position overcame the wretched man, and +his skill began to leave him. He became thick and confused +of speech; his periods tripped; his thought moved backward. +Then his supple tongue failed him utterly, and, in cries and +incoherent groans, he pleaded for the right to exist. +</p> + +<p> +"Man," said the Imperator, when the storm of prayers and +moans was over, "you conspired against Quintus Drusus, my +friend. You failed—that is forgiven. You conspired, I have +cause to believe, against Pompeius, my enemy, but a Roman—that +is unproved, and therefore forgiven. You conspired +with Pothinus against me—that was an offence touching me +alone, and so that, too, may be forgiven. But to the prayers of +a father you had wronged, you answered so that you might +gloat over his pain. Therefore you shall die and not live. +Take him away, guards, and strike off his head, for his body is +too vile to nail to any cross." +</p> + +<p> +The face of the Greek was livid. He raised his manacled +hands, and strained at the irons in sheer despair. The soldiers +caught him roughly to hale him away. +</p> + +<p> +"Mercy! kyrios! kyrios!" he shrieked. "Spare me the +torments of Hades! The Furies will pursue me forever! +Pity! Mercy!" +</p> + +<p> +Cornelia had reëntered the room, and saw this last scene. +</p> + +<p> +"When my uncle and Ahenobarbus were nigh their deaths," +she said stingingly, "this man observed that often, in times +of mortal peril, skeptics call on the gods." +</p> + +<p> +"The rule is proved," said Cæsar, casting a cynical smile +after the soldiers with their victim. "All men need gods, +either to worship when they live, or to dread when they die." +</p> + + + + + +<h2 id="ch25">CHAPTER XXV</h2> + +<h2>CALM AFTER STORM</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p> +Like all human things, the war ended. The Alexandrians +might rage and dash their numbers against the palace walls. +Ganymed and young Ptolemæus, who had gone out to him, +pressed the siege, but all in vain. And help came to the hard-pressed +Romans at last. Mithridates, a faithful vassal king, +advanced his army over Syria, and came down into the Delta, +sweeping all before him. Then Cæsar effected a junction with +the forces of his ally, and there was one pitched battle on the +banks of the Nile, where Ptolemæus was defeated, and drowned +in his flight. Less than a month later Alexandria capitulated, +and saw the hated consular insignia again within her gates. +There was work to do in Egypt, and Cæsar—just named +dictator at Rome and consul for five years—devoted himself +to the task of reform and reorganization. Cleopatra was to be +set back upon her throne, and her younger brother, another +Ptolemæus, was to be her colleague. So out of war came +peace, and the great Imperator gave laws to yet another +kingdom. +</p> + +<p> +But before Cæsar sailed away to chastise Pharnaces of +Pontus, and close up his work in the East, ere returning to +break down the stand of the desperate Pompeians in Africa, +there was joy and high festival in the palace of Alexandria; +and all the noble and great of the capital were at the feast,—the +wedding feast of Cornelia and the favourite staff officer of +the Imperator. The soft warm air of the Egyptian springtime +blew over the festoons of flowers and over the carpets of blossoms; +never before was the music more sweet and joyous. +And overhead hung the great light-laden dome of the glowing +azure, where the storks were drifting northward with the +northward march of the sun. +</p> + +<p> +And they sang the bridal hymns, both Greek and Latin, and +cried "Hymen" and "Talasio"; and when evening came, +</p> + +<blockquote> +<p> +"The torches tossed their tresses of flame," +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> +as said the marriage song of Catullus; and underneath the +yellow veil of the bride gleamed forth the great diamond +necklace, the gift of Cleopatra, which once had been the joy +of some Persian princess before the Greeks took the hoard +at Persepolis. +</p> + +<p> +Agias was there; and Cleomenes and his daughters; and +Demetrius, with Artemisia, the most beautiful of girls,—as +Cornelia was the fairest of women,—clinging fondly to her +father's side. So there was joy that day and night at the +Alexandrian palace. And on the next morning the fleet trireme +was ready which Demetrius had provided to bear Drusus +and Cornelia and Fabia back to Italy. Many were the partings +at the royal quay, and Agias wept when he said farewell +to his late patron and patroness; but he had some comfort, +for his cousin (who had arranged with Cleomenes that, since +his freebooting days were happily over, the two should join +in a partnership for the India trade) had made him a promise +to be fulfilled in due course of time—for Artemisia was still +very young. +</p> + +<p> +"You are no Ichomachus, Xenophon's perfect wife-educator," +the ex-pirate had said to his importunate cousin; "wait +a few years." +</p> + +<p> +And Agias was fain to be content, with this hope before +him. +</p> + +<p> +There were other partings than his; but at last the adieus +were over, and all save Cæsar went back upon the quay. The +Imperator alone tarried on the poop of the vessel for an instant. +His features were half wistful as he held Drusus by the hand, +but his eyes were kindly as ever to the young man. +</p> + +<p> +"Ah, amice!" he said, "we who play at philosophy may +not know all the time that there are gods, but at all times we +know that there is the most godlike of divine attributes—love +undefiled. Therefore let us hope, for we see little, and the +cosmos is past finding out." +</p> + +<p> +He sprang back on to the quay. The musicians on the bow +struck up with pipe and lyre; the friends on the pier flung +aboard the last garlands of rose and lily and scented thyme; +the rowers bent to their task; the one hundred and seventy +blades—pumiced white—smote the yellow waves of the +harbour, and the ship sped away. Cornelia, Fabia, and Drusus +stood on the poop gazing toward the receding quay. Long +after they had ceased to recognize forms and faces they stared +backward, until the pier itself was a speck, and the great +buildings of the city grew dim. Then they passed the Pharos, +and the land dwindled more and more into a narrow, dark +ribbon betwixt blue water and bluer sky. The long swells +of the open sea caught the trireme, and she rode gallantly +over them—while the music still played, and her hardy +crew, pirates no longer, but pardoned men,—seamen, employees +of the honest merchant Demetrius,—sent the good ship bounding +faster and faster, as they pressed their strength against +the springing oars. Higher and higher rose the column of +foam around the cutwater; louder and louder sang the foam +under the stern, as they swept it past. The distant land +faded to a thread, to a line, was gone; and to north and south +and east and west were but the water and the cloudless ether. +Fabia, Cornelia, and Drusus said little for a long time. Their +eyes wandered, sometimes, over the track of the foam, and in +their minds they saw again the water-birds plashing among +lotus plants, and heard the ancient Egyptian litanies softly +chanted behind the propylons of a temple built by some king +two thousand years departed. But oftener their eyes ran +ahead over the prow, and they walked again across the Forum +of the city of their fathers, and drove across the Latin plain-land, +and spoke their own dear, sonorous, yet half-polished +native tongue. +</p> + +<p> +At last came evening; the sun sank lower and lower; now +his broad red disk hung over the crest of the western waves; +now it touched them; now it was gone, and only the lines of +dying fire streamed behind him—the last runners in his +chariot train. Up from the cabin below came the voice of the +ship's steward, "Would their excellencies take any refreshment?" +But they did not go at once. They watched the fire +grow dimmer and dimmer, the pure light change to red gold, +the red gold to crimson, and the crimson sink away. +</p> + +<p> +"Ah, carissima!" cried Drusus, "would that when the orbs +of our lives go down to their setting, they might go down like +the sunlight, more beautiful in each act of the very dying, as +they approach the final goal!" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, surely," replied Cornelia, touching her hands upon +his head; "but who knows but that Catullus the poet is +wrong when he says the sun of life will never rise save once; +who knows but that, if our sun set in beauty, it will rise +again in grandeur even more?" +</p> + +<p> +"My children," said Fabia, gently, "the future lies in the +knowledge of the gods; but out of the present we must shape +our own future." +</p> + +<p> +"No, delectissima," replied her nephew, "to do that we are +all too weak; except it be true, as Aratus the poet has said, +'that we men are also the offspring of gods,' in which case +Heaven itself must stoop to give us aid." +</p> + +<p> +But Cornelia's eyes had wandered down into the foam, still +gleaming as snow in the failing light. +</p> + +<p> +"Ah!" she said, "the ages are long; if there be gods, their +days are our lifetimes, and we but see a little and know not +what to think. But to live a noble life will always be the +fairest thing, whether death be an unending sleep or the +threshold to Pindar's Elysium." +</p> + +<p> +And what more of grave wisdom might have dropped from +her lips none may relate, for her husband had shaken off the +spell, and laughed aloud in the joy of his strong life and +buoyant hopes. Then they all three laughed, and thought no +more of sober things. They went down into the cabin just as +the last bars of light flickered out in the west, and only the +starlight broke the darkness that spread out over the face of +the sea. +</p> + + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p> +Drusus, as he himself had predicted, never wrote a great +treatise on philosophy, and never drew up a cosmology that +set at rest all the problems of the universe; nor did Cornelia +become a Latin Sappho or Corinna, and her wise lore never +went further than to make her friends afraid to affect a shammed +learning in her presence. But they both did the tasks that fell +to them better because they had "tasted the well of Parnassus" +and "walked in the grove with the sages." And Drusus, +through an active life, played an honourable part as a soldier +and a statesman: with his beloved Imperator in the battles of +Thapsus and Munda, when the last of the oligarchs were beaten +down; then, after the great crime of murder, with his friend +Marcus Antonius; and then, when Cleopatra's evil star lured +both her and Antonius to their ruin, he turned to the only +man whose wisdom and firmness promised safety to the state—and +he joined himself to the rising fortunes of Octavius, +the great Augustus, and fought with him to the end, until +there was no longer a foreign or civil enemy, and the "Pax +Romana" gave quiet to a subject world. +</p> + +<p> +So Drusus had share with Mæcenas and Agrippa and the +other imperial statesmen in shaping the fabric of the mighty +Roman Empire. Not in his day did he or Cornelia know that +it was wrong to buy slaves like cattle, or to harbour an +implacable hate. They were but pagans. To them the truth +was but seen in a glass darkly; enough if they lived up to +such truth as was vouchsafed. But in their children's day +the brightness arose in the East, and spread westward, and +ever westward, until the Capitoline Jupiter was nigh forgotten, +the glories of the Roman eagles became a tradition, +the splendour of the imperial city a dream. For there came +to the world a better Deity, a diviner glory, a more heavenly +city. The greater grew out of the less. Out of the world-fabric +prepared by Julius Cæsar grew the fabric of the Christian +Church, and out of the Christian Church shall rise a yet +nobler spiritual edifice when the stars have all grown cold. +</p> + +<p> +THE END +</p> + + + + +<h2>Footnotes</h2> + +<p> + <a name="fn1" href="#r1">[1]</a> Water columbarium. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn2" href="#r2">[2]</a> The Phoenician god, also worshipped in North Africa, in whose idol was + built a fire to consume human sacrifices. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn3" href="#r3">[3]</a> A few years at the philosophy schools of that famous city were almost + as common to Roman students and men of culture as "studying in Germany" + to their American successors. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn4" href="#r4">[4]</a> Master, "Lord" of slaves and freedmen. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn5" href="#r5">[5]</a> <i>Rheda</i>. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn6" href="#r6">[6]</a> Most wealthy Romans had such a <i>major domo</i>, whose position was often + one of honour and trust. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn7" href="#r7">[7]</a> <i>Pænula</i>. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn8" href="#r8">[8]</a> The second order of the Roman nobility. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn9" href="#r9">[9]</a> A Greek gold piece worth about $3.60 at the time of the story. At this +time Rome coined little gold. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn10" href="#r10">[10]</a> Good! Good! Hurrah! +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn11" href="#r11">[11]</a> <i>Ergastulum</i>. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn12" href="#r12">[12]</a> Slave household. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn13" href="#r13">[13]</a> Every Roman had a <i>prænomen</i>, or "Christian name"; also a gentile name + of the gens or clan to which he belonged; and commonly in addition a cognomen, + usually an epithet descriptive of some personal peculiarity of an ancestor, + which had fastened itself upon the immediate descendants of that ancestor. + The <i>Livii Drusi</i> were among the noblest of the Roman houses. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn14" href="#r14">[14]</a> Died in 91 B.C. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn15" href="#r15">[15]</a> In 54 B.C. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn16" href="#r16">[16]</a> The two Roman consuls were magistrates of the highest rank, and were + chosen each year by the people. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn17" href="#r17">[17]</a> The famous watering-place on the Bay of Naples. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn18" href="#r18">[18]</a> An ex-consul was known by this title. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn19" href="#r19">[19]</a> Built by Pompeius the Great, in 55-54 B.C. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn20" href="#r20">[20]</a> A member of the band who with Catiline conspired in 63 B.C. to overthrow + the Roman government. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn21" href="#r21">[21]</a> The Roman millionaire who had just been slain in Parthia. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn22" href="#r22">[22]</a> <i>Domina</i>, mistress. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn23" href="#r23">[23]</a> By Hercules. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn24" href="#r24">[24]</a> The right of kissing kinsfolk within the sixth degree. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn25" href="#r25">[25]</a> No teaming was allowed in Rome by day. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn26" href="#r26">[26]</a> Greek outer mantle. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn27" href="#r27">[27]</a> Greek under garment. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn28" href="#r28">[28]</a> At an age when respectable men were almost invariably smooth shaven, + the philosophers wore flowing beards, as a sort of professional badge. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn29" href="#r29">[29]</a> A "fad" of this time. Such tables often cost $20,000. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn30" href="#r30">[30]</a> The ten tribunes had power to convene the people and Senate, propose laws + and "veto" the actions of other magistrates. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn31" href="#r31">[31]</a> <i>Sequestres</i>. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn32" href="#r32">[32]</a> <i>Interpres</i>. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn33" href="#r33">[33]</a> Assembly of the Roman tribes for election. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn34" href="#r34">[34]</a> Suet., "Nero," 51. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn35" href="#r35">[35]</a> An inner private court back of the atrium. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn36" href="#r36">[36]</a> The opponents of the Epicureans; they nobly antagonized the mere pursuit + of pleasure held out as the one end of life by the Epicurean, and glorified + duty. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn37" href="#r37">[37]</a> <i>Cubicularius</i>. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn38" href="#r38">[38]</a> To let out the ointment. Capua was a famed emporium for perfumes + and like wares. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn39" href="#r39">[39]</a> Born 180 B.C. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn40" href="#r40">[40]</a> <i>Ornatrices</i>. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn41" href="#r41">[41]</a> Demeter and Persephone, a Greek woman's oath. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn42" href="#r42">[42]</a> A costly substance, probably porcelain agate. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn43" href="#r43">[43]</a> Whipper; many Roman houses had such a functionary, and he does not + seem to have lacked employment. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn44" href="#r44">[44]</a> <i>Flagellum</i>. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn45" href="#r45">[45]</a> Furca-bearer, a coarse epithet. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn46" href="#r46">[46]</a> Thief. Branding was a common punishment for slaves. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn47" href="#r47">[47]</a> I.e. $2,400,000; a sesterce was about 4 cents. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn48" href="#r48">[48]</a> Senior Vestals. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn49" href="#r49">[49]</a> A diminutive of endearment. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn50" href="#r50">[50]</a> <i>Infula</i>. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn51" href="#r51">[51]</a> A coarse epithet. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn52" href="#r52">[52]</a> <i>Comitium</i>, assembly-place round the Rostra. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn53" href="#r53">[53]</a> Great men, and candidates for office who wished to "know" everybody, + kept smart slaves at their elbow to whisper strangers' names in their ears. + Sometimes the slaves themselves were at fault. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn54" href="#r54">[54]</a> Dining room with couch seats for nine, the regular size. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn55" href="#r55">[55]</a> The <i>ne plus ultra</i> of Roman gastronomy at the time. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn56" href="#r56">[56]</a> Porter—<i>Insularius.</i> +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn57" href="#r57">[57]</a> From Cadiz, Spain. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn58" href="#r58">[58]</a> Commercial adviser required for young men under five-and-twenty. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn59" href="#r59">[59]</a> Born about 470 B.C. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn60" href="#r60">[60]</a> Four sesterces, 16 cents. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn61" href="#r61">[61]</a> Keeper of a school of gladiators. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn62" href="#r62">[62]</a> Gladiators equipped as Gaulish warriors. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn63" href="#r63">[63]</a> Buckler men. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn64" href="#r64">[64]</a> <i>Sicarius</i>. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn65" href="#r65">[65]</a> The Gallic sun-god. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn66" href="#r66">[66]</a> See Plato's "Theætetus," 174. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn67" href="#r67">[67]</a> A Lydian king whose wealth was placed on a par with that of the better + known Croesus. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn68" href="#r68">[68]</a> Such alterations were actually made in Rome. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn69" href="#r69">[69]</a> To whose mysteries only women were admitted. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn70" href="#r70">[70]</a> Cattle-market. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn71" href="#r71">[71]</a> She was a sister of Clodius, a famous demagogue, and was a brilliant + though abandoned woman. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn72" href="#r72">[72]</a> Without the <i>imperium</i>—so long as a Roman official held this he was + above prosecution. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn73" href="#r73">[73]</a> Contemptuous diminutive for Greek. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn74" href="#r74">[74]</a> The heavy short javelin carried by the Roman legionary, only about six + feet long. In practised hands it was a terrible weapon, and won many a + Roman victory. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn75" href="#r75">[75]</a> The "rosy-fingered Dawn" of Homer; Tithonos was her consort. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn76" href="#r76">[76]</a> Milman, translator. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn77" href="#r77">[77]</a> Sallust, the well-known historian. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn78" href="#r78">[78]</a> A distinguished poet and orator—a friend of Catullus. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn79" href="#r79">[79]</a> A long tunic worn by Roman ladies. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn80" href="#r80">[80]</a> A shawl worn over the stola. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn81" href="#r81">[81]</a> The party in opposition, since the time of Tiberius Gracchus, to the Senate + party—Optimates; at this time the <i>Populares</i> were practically all Cæsarians. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn82" href="#r82">[82]</a> <i>Ara Maxima</i>. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn83" href="#r83">[83]</a> "Strange! Marvellous!" +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn84" href="#r84">[84]</a> <i>Cithara</i>. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn85" href="#r85">[85]</a> Itinerant pipers have existed in Italy from earliest times; they still survive, + albeit in alien lands and with less tuneful instruments. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn86" href="#r86">[86]</a> <i>Mimæ</i>. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn87" href="#r87">[87]</a> A common diversion for "young men of spirit." +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn88" href="#r88">[88]</a> <i>Acta Diurna</i>, prepared officially. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn89" href="#r89">[89]</a> "Chaldean" astrologers played an almost incredibly important part + among even the highest-class Romans of the period. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn90" href="#r90">[90]</a> Babylonian temple towers. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn91" href="#r91">[91]</a> <i>Popinæ</i>. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn92" href="#r92">[92]</a> A poet at that time of some little reputation. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn93" href="#r93">[93]</a> Women sat at Roman banquets, unless the company was of a questionable + character. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn94" href="#r94">[94]</a> Most beautiful. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn95" href="#r95">[95]</a> Sons remained under the legal control of a father until the latter's death, + unless the tie was dissolved by elaborate ceremonies. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn96" href="#r96">[96]</a> Cato Minor's sister Portia was the wife of Lucius Domitius. Cato was + also connected with the Drusi through Marcus Livius Drusus, the murdered + reformer, who was the maternal uncle of Cato and Portia. Lucius Ahenobarbus + and Quintus Drusus were thus third cousins. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn97" href="#r97">[97]</a> About one-twelfth pint. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn98" href="#r98">[98]</a> Calverly's translation. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn99" href="#r99">[99]</a> The Egyptian judge of the dead. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn100" href="#r100">[100]</a> At this period the great slave emporium of the world. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn101" href="#r101">[101]</a> The spiritual double which belonged to every man according to the Egyptian + ideas. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn102" href="#r102">[102]</a> Such establishments were common near the gates, and the Vestals often + had their horses at such places. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn103" href="#r103">[103]</a> <i>Equarius</i>. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn104" href="#r104">[104]</a> Inns were known by such signs. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn105" href="#r105">[105]</a> Four-sided dice. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn106" href="#r106">[106]</a> Terence, "Adelphoe," 467 and 471. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn107" href="#r107">[107]</a> <i>Ostium</i>. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn108" href="#r108">[108]</a> The "dinner coat" of the Romans. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn109" href="#r109">[109]</a> College of chief priests. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn110" href="#r110">[110]</a> This was the law, that the tribunes might always be ready to render help + (<i>auxilium</i>) to the distressed. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn111" href="#r111">[111]</a> Farm steward. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn112" href="#r112">[112]</a> <i>Puls</i>, the primitive Italian food. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn113" href="#r113">[113]</a> About 606-3/4 English feet. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn114" href="#r114">[114]</a> The great battle won in 207 B.C. over Hasdrubal. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn115" href="#r115">[115]</a> The Gallic thunder-god. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn116" href="#r116">[116]</a> A Germanic war-god. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn117" href="#r117">[117]</a> About $400. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn118" href="#r118">[118]</a> Local municipal magistrates. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn119" href="#r119">[119]</a> <i>Prandium</i>. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn120" href="#r120">[120]</a> Black shoes were worn as a sort of badge by <i>equites</i>. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn121" href="#r121">[121]</a> Expounders of the Roman law. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn122" href="#r122">[122]</a> Translated in the collection "Sales Attici." +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn123" href="#r123">[123]</a> The ancient curtain (<i>aulæum</i>) had its roller at the bottom. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn124" href="#r124">[124]</a> Cæsar had given the magistrates of towns of the north of Italy the Roman + franchise: no Roman citizens could be lawfully flogged. By his action Marcellus + denied Cæsar's right to confer the franchise. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn125" href="#r125">[125]</a> Marius had made young Cæsar, Flamen Dialis: priest of Jupiter. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn126" href="#r126">[126]</a> Translated by Shelley. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn127" href="#r127">[127]</a> $24,000. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn128" href="#r128">[128]</a> Blessed dear. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn129" href="#r129">[129]</a> <i>Duodecim scripta</i>. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn130" href="#r130">[130]</a> One of their functions made these officers practically chiefs of police. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn131" href="#r131">[131]</a> A part of these public officers performed police duty. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn132" href="#r132">[132]</a> A sort of mantle held on the shoulders by a clasp. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn133" href="#r133">[133]</a> <i>Latrunculi</i>. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn134" href="#r134">[134]</a> <i>Si vales bene est ego valeo</i>, written commonly simply S. V. B. E. E. V. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn135" href="#r135">[135]</a> <i>Optimus maximus</i>. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn136" href="#r136">[136]</a> Ex-prætors and ex-ædiles. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn137" href="#r137">[137]</a> <i>Subsellium</i>. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn138" href="#r138">[138]</a> <i>Trabea</i>. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn139" href="#r139">[139]</a> <i>Lituus</i>. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn140" href="#r140">[140]</a> <i>Silentium esse videtur</i>. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn141" href="#r141">[141]</a> <i>Princeps senatus</i>. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn142" href="#r142">[142]</a> Assembly-place in the <i>Forum Romanum</i>. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn143" href="#r143">[143]</a> <i>Manumissio inter amicos</i> was less formal than the regular ceremony + before the prætor. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn144" href="#r144">[144]</a> The Ædes Martis of the Campus Martius. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn145" href="#r145">[145]</a> Pompeius was not allowed by law to attend sessions of the Senate (so + long as he was proconsul of Spain) when held inside the old city limits; but + the Curia which he himself built was outside the walls in the Campus Martius. + This meeting seems to have been convened there especially that he might + attend it. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn146" href="#r146">[146]</a> <i>Sagum</i>. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn147" href="#r147">[147]</a> Slaves were always close clipped. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn148" href="#r148">[148]</a> <i>Horreæ</i>. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn149" href="#r149">[149]</a> Adjutant, subordinate to a centurion. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn150" href="#r150">[150]</a> Squadron of 30 horse. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn151" href="#r151">[151]</a> Slave who looked after the welfare and conduct of a schoolboy. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn152" href="#r152">[152]</a> President of the games. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn153" href="#r153">[153]</a> Buckler and cutlass men. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn154" href="#r154">[154]</a> Net and trident men. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn155" href="#r155">[155]</a> General's body-guard of picked veterans. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn156" href="#r156">[156]</a> A finger-guessing game. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn157" href="#r157">[157]</a> He has got to die. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn158" href="#r158">[158]</a> A <i>celox</i> of one bank of oars, a small ship much used by the pirates. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn159" href="#r159">[159]</a> Wine-mixing bowl. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn160" href="#r160">[160]</a> The Romans divided the night into 12 hours (from sunrise to sunset); thus + the length of the hour varied with the seasons: but at the time here mentioned + the "second hour" was about 8 P.M. The water-clocks could show only regular, + not solar, time. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn161" href="#r161">[161]</a> The official residence of the Pontifex Maximus. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn162" href="#r162">[162]</a> Riches and strength. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn163" href="#r163">[163]</a> Elton, translator. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn164" href="#r164">[164]</a> Dearest one. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn165" href="#r165">[165]</a> Very distinguished sir. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn166" href="#r166">[166]</a> Master. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn167" href="#r167">[167]</a> <i>Ō-op</i>—avast there. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn168" href="#r168">[168]</a> Missile-throwing engines. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn169" href="#r169">[169]</a> <i>Tibiæ</i>. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn170" href="#r170">[170]</a> Your Highness. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn171" href="#r171">[171]</a> These were real affectations of the Cilician pirates. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn172" href="#r172">[172]</a> A high order of Egyptian nobility. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn173" href="#r173">[173]</a> The official title of Alexandrian Greek citizens. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn174" href="#r174">[174]</a> A mixture of myrrh, frankincense, and other aromatic materials. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn175" href="#r175">[175]</a> Elton, translator. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn176" href="#r176">[176]</a> A drink of vinegar and water very common among the soldiers. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn177" href="#r177">[177]</a> Elton, translator. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn178" href="#r178">[178]</a> Midnight. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn179" href="#r179">[179]</a> The military oath of obedience. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn180" href="#r180">[180]</a> Macedonian it is needless to say was a mere name. The Græco-Egyptian + soldiery and citizen body of Alexandria probably had hardly a drop of Macedonian + blood in their veins. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn181" href="#r181">[181]</a> As, for instance, the repeated wedlock of brothers and sisters among the + Ptolemies. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn182" href="#r182">[182]</a> Commanders of the body-guard. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn183" href="#r183">[183]</a> "Black" because of the black fertile mud deposited by the inundation. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn184" href="#r184">[184]</a> A company of about one hundred men. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn185" href="#r185">[185]</a> <i>Lorica</i>. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn186" href="#r186">[186]</a> Ceylon. +</p> + +<p> + <a name="fn187" href="#r187">[187]</a> Malay Peninsula. +</p> + + + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's A Friend of Caesar, by William Stearns Davis + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A FRIEND OF CAESAR *** + +***** This file should be named 15694-h.htm or 15694-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/5/6/9/15694/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Stefan Cramme and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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