CHAPTER XIV.
The Suburan had the letter written and completed to his mind, and the nextstep was, of course, to have it delivered. For safety's sake this was anarrangement to be carried out with due circumspection; and, as he alreadyhad an idea in his mind, he determined to put the missive away safely fora time, to see if the opportunity he hoped for would present itself. Hecame out of the wine-shop, took a turn on the Marina, the favourite loungeof the townsfolk, and then turned homeward. The direct thoroughfare suitedhim no longer. Avoiding the street he made his way to the rear of thepotter's premises. He resolved there should be no awkward meeting ofunwelcome faces if he could help it. As he drew near, passing through theirregular patches of garden and pasture, he heard the sound of horses'feet. He looked toward the main road, already described as running nigh toMasthlion's house, and saw a horseman garbed in military dress gallopingat a swift pace northward. He was already at some distance, and a fewyards further on his course the road dipped out of sight. At this pointthe rider suddenly reined up, waved something white, and then was gone.Cestus, with something like an oath of disappointment between his lips,hastened on a few steps, till the little workshop of Masthlion, with itssmoking chimney, came into view. Then the struggling anathema rolled forthin full and hearty distinctness, for there, on the little low wallsurrounding the garden-patch of the potter, was Neaera, standingmotionless, with her white answering signal in her down-dropped hand, andher eyes yet fixed on the distant road. He had arrived just in time towitness the disappearance of Martialis, the Centurion. He whom he hadexpected and watched for with such restless anxiety, and to whom he hadmentally arranged to consign his letter for the safest delivery to itsdestination. His extreme disgust and disappointment found its customaryrelief in a furious spasm of frightful language, all the fiercer in thathe was obliged to suppress it, because of neighbours sprinkled here andthere nigh at hand in their little plots of garden ground. When he lookedagain for Neaera she had disappeared. He followed into the house with avisage dark and sullen as a thundercloud. The first to meet him was Neaeraherself; a strange contrast, inasmuch as joy sparkled in her eyes andbloomed on her cheeks. It was testimony enough to the glance of Cestus.
'Hath not the Centurion been here but now?' he asked, gloomily enough.
'Yes!' replied Neaera, with yet more colour in her cheeks. 'What is thematter?'
'Matter enough,' was the sulky answer; 'I have been dying to see him andto have speech with him. I was even on the road this morning, thinkingthat he might pass by chance, and if I had not gone into the town I shouldhave caught him. He must have followed me almost on my heels. Curse myluck, why did I not come straight home?'
'You were unlucky indeed, uncle; but he will not be away more than a fewdays.'
'Even that may prove too long,' growled Cestus. 'Said he anything aboutaffairs in the island that you can remember, Neaera? That the Prefect wasintending to return to the city before long?'
'No, nothing. But had it been so, Lucius would scarce have been returningto Capreae again.'
'Humph!' grunted Cestus, as Neaera glided away about her business, wellsatisfied with the existing arrangements of the Centurion's commander.
Cestus sought the little upstairs chamber, where he slept, and, havinghidden the letter to Fabricius in a safe place till required, he casthimself on his pallet, wearied in body and intensely irritated in mind.Here he fell asleep and found the day far gone when he awoke. His preciousmissive occupied his first thoughts, and he went down into the town to tryand discover some chance of sending the same--a public post system beingunknown. In this he was lucky. A trading vessel had touched on her voyageto the Tiber, and he found the master thereof perfectly willing to do ashe required. Cestus went and brought the letter and delivered it into theseaman's hands, with full instructions and a liberal subsidy. A visit to awine-shop, where the liquor flowed plentifully, completed the transaction,and then Cestus took leave of his new friend with many partinginjunctions. A couple of days passed, during which Cestus never left theimmediate vicinity of the house for any great length of time. He feltconstrained to the exercise of vigilance, but the restraint upon hisaccustomed habits of liberty and self-indulgence soon began to prove veryirksome. Nor did anything happen during that time to hinge the leastinterest upon.
'If I had chanced to leave the place for two or three hours, somethingwould have been sure to have turned up,' he grumbled.
But what little had occurred had permanently unsettled the equilibrium ofhis mind. He was beset with a certain kind of vague uneasiness, dull,intangible, but sleepless; of the disagreeable nature of an illpresentiment, which set the profoundest intellectual subtlety at defiance.His restlessness increased, and the current of his thoughts set, withincreasing constancy and eagerness, toward his native Rome, till thelonging resembled that of a sick man or exile. The feeling rose sostrongly, that the early removal of himself to the great city took itsplace as the first and most absorbing care of his mind. The family of thepotter, of course, he, of necessity, included with himself.
On the third day after the departure of Martialis, he was sitting aloneover the fire in the house, with his elbow on his knee and his hairy chinon his hand, deeply occupied in arranging his method of procedure, orrather in deciding on the manner of approaching Masthlion on the subject,since the potter's assent was the only real difficulty to be met. Hismeditations were interrupted by the touch of a hand on his shoulder. Helooked up and saw Neaera standing beside him. He made as if to rise, withthe deference he had acquired in her presence, but, without removing herhand from his bulky shoulder, she pressed him gently down in his place.
'You were very deep in your thoughts, uncle; you never heard me come.'
'That's true enough,' he replied, with a smile; 'but your footstep lacksweight to rouse a sleeper or day-dreamer.'
'You were not asleep, unless you sleep with your eyes open,' said Neaera.'You were deep enough in a day-dream, therefore. I can guess--was it not ofRome?'
'Well, that among other things, I am bound to say,' replied Cestus.
'I have come to ask you about my father. Have you ever thought of himsince we last spoke?'
'I--I have not had a convenient opportunity,' said Cestus, with hesitation.
'What, not in all this time? Ah, that is a poor excuse!'
'To speak truth, I was thinking of him when you came in,' said Cestus,guiltily dropping his eyes to the fire; 'I was making up my mind to talkto him before night.'
'It is dusk already,' said Neaera, shaking her head gently as if scarcebelieving him.
'That is so,' replied Cestus, sweeping his glance round the little room,where the shadows were gathering thick, and the flickering flames of thefire in the brazier were beginning to define themselves on the walls; 'butthere yet remains plenty of time. I am going to open a weighty subjectwith him, so I am taking time to consider.'
'And what may that be?' asked Neaera, seating herself on a stool beside himand looking into his face.
Cestus kept his glance on the fire as he replied:
'It is not indeed so grave a matter after all, but he is sure to make itso. I want him to cut loose from this tomb of a town and take up his abodein Rome. It is the only place for a man of skill. Here he is buried.'
'Here we have been very happy and content, until lately,' responded thefair girl, with a sigh. 'I don't think you will succeed.'
'Yes, if you would help me,' observed Cestus.
'My father is the best judge, and I will abide by what he says.'
'He must go eventually,' said the Suburan, emphasising the word _must_,'so that you might as well persuade him to move with me at once.'
'Must go! And what is there then to compel him?' said Neaera quickly, insurprise.
The Suburan's eyes twinkled as he shot a sidelong glance at her beautifulface.
'Nothing but yourself,' he said quietly; 'that is why I asked you topersuade him now rather than leave it later.'
&nbs
p; Neaera wrinkled her pretty brows and perused her companion's dark-huedshaggy face with an anxious, inquiring look. Then she shook her head.
'I cannot understand,' she said; 'to say that of me seems to be nonsense.'
'Don't you see?' exclaimed Cestus, reaching out his arm, and laying histhick forefinger on her hand, as it rested on her knee, 'don't you see?When you become the wife of Martialis he will take you to Rome, and by andby your--Masthlion will be unable to live without the sight of you, so hewill assuredly follow. It is as plain and sure as the sun in heaven.'
The faintest shadow of a smile rested on her lips, and she dropped hergaze from his face to the burning logs. The delicate lids drooped over thelustre of her eyes, and a warmer tint suffused her skin.
'It will be time when I go to Rome,' she murmured; 'wait till that comesto pass.'
'Therefore you will not help to persuade him to go now, as I recommend?'
'I will not say a word.'
'Think of the blessed change--the sights and shows, such as you never dreamof. When you are there you will say, "How did I live in such a dog's holeas that?"--meaning Surrentum.'
'I think I have passed too many pleasant days here to think that ever,'replied Neaera; 'but my own inclinations have nothing to do with it, norshall they.'
'Then again,' continued Cestus, more artfully, 'the Prefect has been along time in Capreae, and cannot be expected to remain there much longer.He will return to Rome, and with him Martialis.'
This was a subtle stroke, but he got no reply, save only a low ripplinglaugh and a shake of her head, which was turned persistently towards thefire. Whereupon he shrugged his shoulders, and silence fell between themfor a considerable space, which he employed in fixedly watching her as shesat with her hands clasped across her knee, apparently lost in a reverie.
The bright glow of the fire bathed her face and figure, and threw theminto striking relief in the now dark room. The Suburan, with his elbow onhis knee and his head dropped sideways on his hand, feasted his eyes withthe lovely picture she made, which drew no small portion of its charm fromthe grace of her unconsciousness. It awoke his mind to a strange activity.Out of the dim past he conjured up scenes which remained engrained in hismind as sharp and distinct as events of yesterday. Amongst these was abright and vivid morning on the Janiculum Hill in Rome; the glorious cityspread beneath glittering in the morning beams.... A beautiful childdancing and skipping in pure delight; a hasty dash under a high gardenwall, and down a narrow obscure lane.... Then again the depth of a dark,rainy, hot, summer night, when he entered that self-same room, weary withtravel and prolonged toil of search for his destination.... The deposit ofhis tiny sleeping burden, and the astonished faces of the two inmates ofthe room.
Fortune had favoured him; it was the reward of his humanity. As he lookedon the heedless maiden, his heart warmed with satisfaction; and for somebrief moments, he felt at peace with all and everything. How exquisite shewould look clothed as a white-handed patrician and set in the marble hallsof a palace. Her beauty had utterly conquered him. It was a new and novelexperience to have lived in daily contact and companionship with a beingso delicate. Her sprightliness and spirit charmed him, whilst her purityand gentleness softened and quelled him. It was no ordinary degree ofpride which tingled in his breast at the fact, that she was more indebtedto and more dependent upon him than any one, although she knew it not.Should she learn now from his lips? The heart of this rough, vice-sodden,crime-laden man beat like a girl's as he contemplated the action, andgazed on the exquisite profile before him. How those deep-fringed orbswould glow and flash in wonder, and the delicious curves of her lipstremble with emotion! His cool reason was fast departing, and his tremorincreasing, as the fascination before his eyes hurried him on to theconsummation of his sudden desire. In two or three minutes more he couldnot have resisted the temptation to hold the heart and soul of the fairgirl breathless at his disposal. All question of policy had fled, and hewas preparing for his task, when the grate and thud of a bolt being drawn,sounded on their ears through the open door.
'That is father!' exclaimed Neaera, rousing herself suddenly and turninground in expectation.
A deep sigh, either of relief or disappointment, escaped the lips ofCestus, and he straightened up his body.
The creak of the potter's workshop door was followed by his step, and thenext moment he entered the room and advanced toward them. They looked athim in astonishment, for a wonderful change was in his aspect. He wasclearly in a state of great mental excitement, not to speak of evidentdelight. The soot of the furnace on this occasion rather overspread andsubdued the reddish incrustation of clay on his person, and in his hand hecarried a globular vessel of dull, coarse-looking glass. He held it upbefore him as he entered, in such an eager manner, as to draw theirattention to it at once, without a word from his lips. His deep-set eyessparkled in the firelight with infinite vivacity, as they flung theirflashing glances first from one to the other, and then to the cup in hishand, and back again. His eager hurried step brought him up to the Suburanand the maiden almost at a run, and then he stopped short, with the vesseluplifted in one hand, and the forefinger of the other pointing to it. Astrange laugh, or chuckle of supreme joy or exultation, escaped him, andhe moved the article, with its accompanying index finger, first before theface of Neaera and then of Cestus. They arose silently from their seats andstared at the potter with strange wonder, and something of alarm, at thisunusual proceeding on the part of a man of habitual reserve and serenity.It was a spectacle almost as little to be expected, as for a statue of thegrave goddess and her owl to step down from its plinth and cut a caper ona temple floor. They saw that his features and his frame were tremblingwith extreme agitation; and failing to comprehend its cause in a glass cupof not the slightest pretensions to use or ornament, they remained, withanxious gaze, to await some further development of such unwonted symptoms.
'Look--it is done--it is found--I have found it--I, Masthlion!' gasped thepotter, with another laugh. 'At last--at last!' he cried, rolling andsmoothing the vessel in his grimy hands, with the ecstasy of a miserfondling his treasure heaps.
Grave doubts arose in the mind of Cestus as to the actual state of hiskinsman's mind; and giving him a glance of suspicion, and another ofcontempt on the paltry object of his delight, he growled as follows--'Asfar as I can see, potter, it is a thing that ought to be well lost beyondredemption, and a thing of regret, if found again in any dusthole.'
Masthlion vented another chuckling laugh, and turned his eyes on the faceof Neaera, who rested her hand on his shoulder, and touched the glass withthe slender fingers of her other hand. Timidity and doubt were in heractions and on her countenance. She returned his gaze with affectionateconcern and said soothingly, 'You seemed pleased to have found it, father.Had you lost it long? Why do you prize it? Tell me!'
'It has never been lost; nevertheless I have but now found it. Ha, ha!Child, do you think I have taken leave of my wits? And, indeed, I think Ihave, for joy,' laughed Masthlion, straining the girl to his breast andgiving her a fervent kiss. 'Go, bring your mother!'
Neaera glided away into the upper regions of the house on her mission; and,at the request of Masthlion, Cestus took a brand from the fire and lightedan iron lamp which hung from the ceiling. By the time the feeble flamethrew its cheerless light upon the scene, Neaera returned with Tibia. Thelatter, with probably a hint of her husband's unusual humour, came forwardin a peculiar roundabout fashion, as though she were describing thesegment of a circle with the potter as a centre. Her face, wreathed inwonder and some fear, was riveted on his, throughout her course, as if herhead were magnetised. When she arrived finally on the opposite side ofhim, she stopped. Masthlion regarded her with an amused smile, and Cestusgrinned, almost audibly. Neaera, standing at one side, glanced from one tothe other, with a slight wrinkling of her brows, and drew a step nearerTibia; but the dame remained absorbed in her husband, and indifferent tothe amusement her odd manner had caused.
'H
usband!' she ejaculated at last. 'What is the matter?'
''Tis what I sent to tell you,' he said, laughing. 'Look!' He seized herhand, and held up the vessel before her eyes in the same way he had doneto the others. 'Here is the result of twenty-five years' toil andpatience. Here, at last, is success, after disappointments and bitternessbeyond my tongue to tell. Do you remember the old times, wife? Ay, can youever forget them? They were too well ground into you--starvation and ragsare not easily forgotten. I was the cause; and though you often blamed meand reproached me in your heart, you never murmured.'
Tibia shook her head gently.
'Well, well, I deserved it, at least. I was a man possessed with an ideaand no money--an unlucky combination for mortals who are obliged to eat tolive. I learnt my trade as a youth, and one day in my master's shop Ichanced upon a piece of refuse glass of peculiar quality. I showed it tomy master, but he scarcely looked at it. He was a man of no ideas beyondhis daily work. There was that about this piece of glass, however, whichset me thinking, and filled me with an idea of such strength as to becalled infatuation. It has been like a stone of Sisyphus to me till thisday, and now I have conquered it. For twenty-five years I have worked todiscover the secret of that stray piece of glass, more or lessmadly--eagerly--according to circumstances, but always constantly. Myfather, when he died, left me a little hoard of money. Then I left mymaster and built a workshop of my own. It was then, too, I married mysweetheart; and like a young, eager, hot-blooded, thoughtless lad, wouldhave laughed to scorn the notion of a space of twenty-five years beingnecessary to the working out of my problem, had it been told to me at thattime. "Come," I said to myself, "my money will keep us a couple of years,and by that time, I shall have found out my secret, and fortune will liebefore me." In two years I was as far off the end as ever--do you remember,Tibia? In three years I was further still, for we had struggled on, invain hope that each day would solve the mystery, and my patrimony had cometo an end in the process. Every experiment was as futile as the one beforeit, and I had become numb even to bitter disgust and despair. Ah, and howI worked! Night and day--it was like a fever dream. And you, Tibia, wouldcome to help--it was your presence that helped more than your hands, wife.Then came the day when the last coin had been spent in fuel for thefurnace, and the experiment had failed as miserably as all the othersbefore it. It was dusk as I tested my work and found it wanting, and I satdown stupid and sick. I began to dream horribly, or else a fever hadreached my brain. I sat there like a helpless log, as if bound hand andfoot, whilst the walls seemed to dance around me in a giddy whirl, and theroof to rear up and swoop down upon me with a frightful sensation thatwill live in my memory till I die. Then in that dread hour it was you whocrept in beside me. Yet you did nothing but lay your hand silently onmine, and that saved me. You remember it, Tibia?--I cried like a girl. Iwas overwrought in mind and body. I was like the steel blade which isstrained in a curve beyond its strength, and then snaps, to spring andquiver no more. That night we begged our supper, and next morning I roseanother being. I was a dreaming youth no longer, and I set to work to makepots like my dull master, and allow my phantasy to find its opportunitiesfor indulgence, when time and means allowed. I did not do this from changeof inclination, for my ambition burned as strongly as ever; but to livewas a necessity. The gods gave me patience, and I toiled for livelihood,and for means to give me leisure to resume my search. The gods haveblessed me in both: we are beyond fear of want, and I have, at last,discovered the secret which led me on, like a will-o'-the-wisp, for allthese years. Here it is to bless us--me, for my toil, and you, wife, foryour patience and long-suffering! I was cruel in those early years. Many atime since then have I acknowledged it. But I was possessed--eaten up toomuch with my own mad hopes and visions to be able to see a wife pinchedand starved. Heaven knows, wife, what your thoughts were in those days!You never spoke, and I dare not ask. Now I may be able to repay--who knows?At least the secret is found, whatever it may lead to. If it was everknown to the world before I know not; but I have heard the scholars say,that the most ancient people, the Egyptians, in their days of power, wereskilled in works beyond the comprehension of these days. Yet theirknowledge is all buried, forgotten, lost, like their temples and cities.What they knew and discovered will have to be sought for again. Thus thismatter of mine may once have been known well enough, when the world wasages younger, in the days of the giants. Let that be or not; it is of noconsequence to me or any one. It is enough for me to think, that no onelives and breathes who saw, or ever heard, of such a glass cup as thiswhich now I hold. What would you say, now, if it were impossible to breakthis vessel? What would the wealthy patrician think, if his costly glasstreasure, goblet, or heirloom should be of such composition that hiscareless slaves should be powerless to harm it?--that the delicate fabric,exquisitely cut and designed, brilliantly pictured and tinted, instead ofbeing dashed to fragments on his floor by the clumsy fingers of a slave,should be so durable as to survive the mishap, and be lifted again, withnothing worse than a dent, which a skilful artist could restore? And ofthe priceless gem of the artist, so of the humble vessels of the kitchen.That stray fragment of glass which set my brain on fire, and gave me five-and-twenty years of toil and unceasing thought, by some strange trick ofchance, had been fused with certain properties in certain proportions.Chance had accomplished what it has taken me all these years to find out,and there, at last, its composition is developed. Watch now and you shallsee how this piece of glass is matched by none in existence!'
Masthlion's face was flushed with tumultuous speech. His trembling handpulled his wife aside to give himself more room. Then he lifted the glassbowl as high as possible above his head, and threw it down on the floor,with all the force he could command. There followed no crash and flying ofcountless splinters, but only a dull thud, and the hardly tried glassrolled over lazily two or three times with a flattened side; otherwise ithad suffered no damage. The potter drew himself up and looked round withpride and triumph in his eyes.
Neaera clapped her hands and kissed him. Her face reflected his supreme joyand satisfaction. Tibia stood silently, with her hand still grasped in herhusband's, as it might be in the manner of those bygone days of trial hehad told them of. She said nothing; but her eyes passed from the object onthe floor to her husband's face, and there remained. She was a silentwoman, and spoke no word of congratulation; but the pride and devotion inher face were eloquent enough. Masthlion, looking down into it, read itthere. Both females regarded the wonderful piece of glass with no smallamount of curiosity; but it was little else than mere curiosity. As anextraordinary discovery it interested them but little; as the means ofbearing rapture to the breast of the discoverer it was precious beyondcompare. Their eyes indeed visited it, but straightway left it to dwell onthe recovered radiance which beamed on the face of its maker.
The attention of Cestus, on the other hand, was absorbed in exactly thereverse way. With great interest he stooped to pick up and examine theflattened glass vessel. He turned and twisted it about with the mostminute scrutiny. Then, with his thick, powerful fingers, he tried tostraighten out the dint. But in this he was unsuccessful, so he began toshake his head and hum disbelievingly through his pursed lips.
''Tis not clay,' laughed Masthlion; 'it needs a mallet and a tool or two.Come, I will show you!'
They followed him to his workshop, where he took a piece of wood roundedat one end like a pestle. With this and a mallet he pounded the injuredside of the glass back into its original shape--the glass yielding to theheavy blows like a piece of plastic metal.
'There!' he cried, throwing down his tools and holding forth the restoredglass in triumph, 'it is neither pretty nor useful, I admit; but theprinciple is there, which is everything. One must first find the preciouspebble before it can be carved and polished. So enough for the present.Haste, wife, and get us our supper--I must be at work again to make a moresightly cup, as quickly as I can.'
The women vanished. Their voices could be heard in anima
ted chatter asthey passed hither and thither in the gladdest preparation of a meal theyhad known for some time.
'Well, kinsman, you say nothing. What do you think of my bantling inglass?' said Masthlion to the Suburan, who stood leaning against a benchwith folded arms and knitted brows.
''Tis something undoubtedly new, potter,' replied Cestus. 'And do you sayyou can make clear glass and fancy cups and vases, such as one sees inRome, in the same way--unbreakable?'
'Certainly--why not?' answered Masthlion. 'No shape, colour, or fashionwhatever can make any difference to its principle of indestructibility.'
'Why then, potter, I may safely give you joy of your new fashion. It hasbeen a long time coming, but it has come at last. And provided you cankeep your secret, and deal sensibly with it, I should say you ought tocoin money. Give me your hand, kinsman--you'll be as rich as Caesar! Andrecollect when your secret has two in it, it is no secret at all.'
'Trust me for that!' laughed Masthlion, as Cestus gripped his hand.
'And yet something more, potter. This little affair must needs take you toRome. You may as well wrap up your piece of glass, with the secret of itsmaking on a parchment inside, and go bury them in your garden, as stop inthis place to make wealth.'
'There is nothing to prevent me going on making glass here as heretofore,'replied Masthlion, with a shadow stealing over his face.
'Nothing!' returned Cestus energetically, 'even if you lived for the nexthundred years. But what an ending to your twenty-five years' work! Cradledand buried in these hills for the benefit of housewives and kitchenwenches round about Surrentum! No; you must have a wider market for yourwares and your name. Rome is the market of the world, and to Rome all theworld looks for the latest fashion. There is where name and fame is to behad, and everything which follows name and fame. There you will find thepowerful patron to father your handicraft--and a powerful patron iseverything, kinsman, even in the matter of glass cups.'
'What I have toiled for so long, and at last brought to light, will be tothe direct use and service of the world. So much so that the world willfind it out and accept it. It will matter little whether it goes to Romeor to Surrentum to obtain it.'
'Ha! ha!' laughed Cestus sarcastically; 'much you know about the world andits people to say that! Do you think they will come and kneel down whenyou lift your finger? You have enough to bring you fortune if you go theright way to get it. The wrong way is to stay here and dabble, or,perhaps, let some one else worm your secret to better purpose. This iswhat you are bound to do. Go to Rome. Make a cup or vase, of the finestworkmanship you can turn out. Then choose you out a great man, and showhim your curiosity. The more people about him at the time, the betterchance of being talked about. If the noble will buy your vase, so much thebetter. At any rate be assured that it shall have a place on his table. Toeffect all this is to bring success, if there is anything in yourdiscovery at all. But, however, there is luck about all things. The bestschemes, at times, fall flat--no one knows why, whilst the worthless sendpeople crazy together. You must do your best and take your chance of thehumour of the time. This is the way to push business--the only way--'tisdone every day--pooh, man! If I knew what you know, and had your handicraftat my finger ends, should I stop here? Not I! I should be off into theworld and tap a gold mine. Then, if it suited my fancy, in a few yearscome back to the old nest and build myself a palace.'
'Even with my plain, simple country ideas, Cestus, I think I havesomething of good sense beyond your own,' said Masthlion quietly, at theend of his companion's speech.
'Really, in what way, kinsman?'
'In that I have not yet allowed my mind to measure the extent of mypalace, or the worth of the gold mine that is to build it,' said thepotter grimly.
'Ah!' said Cestus, 'but observe, I spoke only assuming you to besuccessful. If you haven't enough faith in your own discovery to give youhope, then, of course, there is an end.'
'I have faith, and great faith! Else would I have toiled so long andwearily? Its worth is plain to the dullest sense; but when success comes,then it will be time to allow the mind to run riot. Nevertheless, Cestus,it may astonish you to know, that ere you spoke, I had already resolved ona plan of making my discovery known, which very much resembles the planyou advise--and without need of leaving my home.'
The Suburan shook his head.
'Simple being as I am, I have already the idea that a good patron isnecessary.'
'Of course.'
'Then, since that is settled, I have resolved that my patron shall be themost powerful of all--the ruler of the world, in fact. To-morrow, if I canbe ready, I will go and show the fruit of my labour for the approval ofCaesar himself.'
'What--Caesar!' cried Cestus, starting violently.
'Caesar--Tiberius Claudius Nero Caesar,' replied Masthlion, with a quietsmile at the blank amazement on the features of his companion.
'Biberius Caldius Mero Caesar--phew!' muttered Cestus, mechanically givingthe Emperor his well-known nickname, which his Imperial wine-bibbingpropensities had earned for him.
So murmuring, the Suburan sank back again into his reclining postureagainst the bench, glaring at the potter.
'Why, it would seem that I have taken a bolder flight than even the citywit and cleverness of my Roman kinsman could devise.'
'There is such a thing as taking too bold a flight for one's welfare,'replied the other, recovering his voice; 'and country ignorance willplainly do many a thing which city wit would call folly. Had it been thelast Caesar now--had it been Augustus, perhaps you would have beensensible. But this one! To go to Capreae--to run the risk of being drowned,or spitted, ere you set foot in the tiger's lair--or, failing that, to behauled before the tiger himself, and straightway hurled from the cliffsinto the sea for a mad-brained potter! Gods preserve us, Masthlion--haveyou taken leave of your senses?'
'I may have seemed like it some minutes back, but I have returned into myusual sober spirit now. At all events, I have the wit to see clearly whatI intend to do.'
'You would never see Caesar--you would never be allowed to approach withineyeshot--not even to set foot on shore!'
'Nonsense, kinsman! Do you think we of Surrentum know not better than tobelieve an idle tale such as that? Do you think we are not betteracquainted with our neighbours in Capreae, at our very doors here, than tobe affrighted at such an ogre's fable as yours? I will both set foot onthe island and see Caesar to boot. Is it not often done by the folk alongthe coast here, whenever business demands?'
'And who never return. What of the dozens who are tortured and strangledand flung to the sharks by the blood-thirsty old hermit?'
'Would the people ever continue to go if that were the case?'
'Do you say none are treated in the way I say?'
'There may be some so unlucky if they have offended; and Caesar issomewhat harsh and imperious as tyrants often are. But I am a neighbourand a Surrentine, and can make a fair reason for permission to go intoCaesar's presence--I have no fear or uneasiness. Stercus of the vineyard upthere, frequently goes to Capreae and enters the Imperial presence.'
'By Hercules! I would I had known this before,' quoth Cestus eagerly;'would it be possible for me to do the same thing?'
'I should not like to say,' answered Masthlion, shaking his head;'strangers, from a distance, seem to be out of favour on the island. Wenatives have more license. Why, I know not; but strangers--especially thosewho go without authority, or business--will most likely rue their boldness.If you, a Roman, were to make a visit, out of sheer curiosity, you would,most likely, meet with rough handling.'
'Humph, then there is some advantage in being a Surrentine and not aRoman,' said Cestus ironically.
'So it would seem, in this instance,' replied the potter.
'Then you may claim it with pleasure. It is hardly worth having when itincludes the probability of becoming a meal for the fishes. And even whatI have heard the Surrentines themselves say of old Tiberius, gives me nobetter relish for him than
I had before. Therefore I say, don't go! Takeyour wares to a safer market. Even suppose you were safe enough in theordinary way of things, as a native, a little matter might upset theImperial humour--a slip, a word, heaven knows what! The royal humour mightbe upset even before you had the first chance at it, and then what next?What glass pot would save you then?'
'I would never run the risk. I have the means of lying by till the sky isfavourable,' returned Masthlion, with a calm smile.
'You are resolved then?'
'Quite.'
'A wilful man will have his way,' growled Cestus, pulling at his beardnervously. He was very ill at ease, and he knew enough of the potter'snature, to be well aware of the uselessness of any arguments to turn hisdetermination when once arrived at. He felt no confidence in what he hadheard concerning the peculiar privileges in Capreae toward the natives ofthe district, and, in fact, was more than half assured, in his own mind,that his kinsman was running as great a risk, as if he were going empty-handed to a lion in its den. What if he never came back--if he was neverheard of again? It would be to lose the most important witness in hiscase. That would be a terrible misfortune. The Suburan's heart was a loadwithin him for heaviness. Perplexity worried him very soon into a temper,and he stood with brows clenched, and teeth grinding under his beardedlips, whilst Masthlion proceeded calmly with the preparations for hisexpedition.
It seemed to increase Cestus's irritation to watch his tranquillity.
'You seem to be tolerably easy, in your own mind, I must confess,' hesnarled at length.
Masthlion looked round, and noted the ill-humoured expression of hiscompanion's countenance with some surprise.
'Easy in my own mind,' said he; 'I am, truly enough--I feel more contentedand happy than I have done for many a day; and I have good reason too, Ithink.'
'Be sure it is not an evil omen,' said Cestus.
'Of what?'
'Ruin--death!'
'Tush--you are talking nonsense. Set your mind at rest; I know what I amabout, and nothing shall stop me from carrying out what I have fixedupon.'
'Then if I cannot teach you common prudence, perhaps you will listen tosome one else. Your life and your carcase are your own, and you can dowhat you like with them; but there are matters other than your own, andalso people dependent on you, who ought to have some consideration. Haveyou told your wife and the girl what you mean to do?'
'No; but it means only the telling,' replied Masthlion, with the faintesthesitation.
'I am not so sure of that; and besides it is your duty not to run any riskon their account.'
'Nothing venture nothing win. As I have told you, you have got sillyfancies into your head. The risk I run does not trouble my conscience onthe score of those I leave behind me; so have done, Cestus, and trouble meno more.'
Cestus approached him, and taking his arm with one hand he pointed to thedoor with the other. 'Do you forget, also, what duty you owe to the girlsinging within there? You say you love her like your own child--do youforget that you are one of the chief witnesses in the task of restoringher to her proper station?'
A shadow fell on the potter's face and his frame shivered. 'No, I do notforget--how could I?' he murmured, as his head fell on his breast. 'Youwill take her from me.'
'I will take her to Rome--it will be necessary for you and Tibia toaccompany us. Where, then, is the separation? You settle in Rome, andcarry on your work nigh at hand. The matter is ripe and will wait nolonger. Within these two days I had resolved to tell you. I have writtento her grandfather to expect her, and we must go. Come, let us go in tosupper and settle it; but without, as yet, telling the reason. You cannotbut see that all this suits you in every way--nothing better.'
Masthlion remained silent for a few moments, with his head cast down andhis fingers twining themselves nervously. Then he went apart, and stoopedlow on his bench, with his face in his hands. Here he remained for severalminutes motionless, during which time Cestus began to pace impatiently upand down the floor. At length the potter stood up. The old care andheaviness was back on his face once more, from the burden of which he hadhad such a brief respite.
'Cestus,' he said huskily, 'for my sake and my wife's, and it may be forhers for all that I can tell, I wish occasion had never been to havebrought you back again. We must suffer; but that is nothing if it be forher good. I have of late thought over what you have said. In one way andanother it seems fated that she must leave us. I have also thought thatour home here would be very dark without her, or even the consolation ofknowing that she was within easy reach. I had half resolved, therefore, tofollow to the city. She may be lost to us, it is true; but still theycould not rob us altogether of the sight of her. That--that, at least,would be a comfort. This will decide me then. As soon as I return fromCapreae we will go, and, at least, make a trial of a new home--though it isa hard task to transplant old trees.'
'As soon as you return from Capreae!' echoed Cestus, his incipientsatisfaction giving way in a breath to disgust. 'You will still persist inthat madness. It must never be! You have no need of Caesar--what benefit toyou is a man who lives like a hermit on a rock? The rich nobles in Romewill be a thousand times the service to you--you shall not go!'
'I will!' cried Masthlion, stung into anger and despair by the fierce toneof his kinsman; 'I will do my duty to the labour of my life--its fame shallbe mine and shall cling to me though everything fall away.'
'Life included,' sneered Cestus.
'Let it, if it be so fated. It seems less bright than it did.'
Neæra: A Tale of Ancient Rome Page 25