Neæra: A Tale of Ancient Rome

by Joel Chandler Harris

  CHAPTER XX.

  When the sun flashed upon the white walls of the palace next morning,Masthlion was still upon his pallet bed, much in the same posture as whenZeno had left him. Indeed, the cramped space of the cell gave not muchopportunity for movement.

  He was free to enter the servants' hall, to eat at their table, andotherwise to amuse himself within the limits of the villa; but he hadremained in his narrow retreat heedless of all.

  As the morning wore on, the door opened, and the handsome steward entered.He gazed upon Masthlion with surprise. The potter was gaunt, haggard, andwasted--a single night had scored his face with the careworn furrows oftwenty years.

  'Well!' said the latter, starting up with an unsettled look, which hadsupplanted his usual calm gaze. 'Well!'

  'Well!' echoed the Greek, regarding him with undisguised curiosity.

  'What message from the hoary tyrant--what are his commands?'

  'None, as yet, Surrentine--and speak respectfully of your betters, forwalls have ears.'

  Masthlion sank back on his pallet, and dropped his head on his hand withan action of utter weariness, mental and physical.

  'Hark'ee, brother; no one has seen or heard anything of you sinceyesterday, when I took thee to the presence chamber--have you never stirredfrom here since I quitted you?'

  'No.'

  'Then you have neither eaten nor drunken?'

  The potter shook his head.

  'Nor slept either, I daresay.'

  'I think not.'

  'In truth, you look like a man who has been sealed up in a vault for amonth. What is the trouble? Is it because your business has gone amisswith Caesar, or that he scared your life half away--or both? At any ratethis is not the way to mend it. I recommend meat and drink and fresh air,taking care not to breathe the latter beyond the outer gate.'

  'Thanks!' replied Masthlion, rising; 'you are kind. I will do as you say,and wait and hope for the freedom of these cursed walls.'

  'Hum--if you lived in them long enough you would be more guarded in yourlanguage. Your visit has not been pleasant--it is hard to have one'sexpectations unduly knocked on the head--you take it to heart, and you havehad an ill night of it.'

  'It has passed now.'

  'Every man to his own way. If you had tried to drown your sorrow, insteadof nursing it, you would have been a better man this morning.'

  'Every man to his own way,' said Masthlion, with a wan smile.

  'The gods be praised--mine now lies elsewhere,' returned Zeno. 'Mark! don'tattempt to pass the outer gate!'

  So saying, he vanished, and Masthlion, after a few more minutes'reflection, followed, to act on the recommendation of the steward, andbreak his long fast.

  His misery of mind led him to shun, as far as possible, all intercoursewith others; so, hastily swallowing a few mouthfuls of food and a heartydraught of rough wine, apart in a quiet corner, he stole out-of-doors.

  The wine and the fresh morning air restored him vastly, but his conditionwas yet pitiable. He sought a warm sunny corner of a wall and sat down,but could not rest. Cramped by his narrow room, he had remained motionlessthe past night, till the acute suffering of his apprehension had produceda merciful species of drowsiness. But now, under the open heavens, andwith ample space on every side, the functions of his mind resumed suchactivity, as to develop a painful nervous disorder which impelled himceaselessly hither and thither. A wider field for reflection might havebrought him relief, but that was denied him. He knew only, that one whomhe loved better than his own life was in worse danger than that of death.

  On this dread fact he brooded in passive agony. Like an orb of torment itpierced him with its searing flame amid encasing blackness, through whichhis mind struggled in vain to escape for relief. It scorched into hisbrain; and round and round, hither and thither, without rest, his feetwandered within the girdle of the infernal walls which imprisoned him. Hiswas the soul of the true artist--keenly sensitive, deeply emotional--all theworse for him.

  The hours passed on. Would Caesar's commands never come to end histerrible suspense?

  The vast palace, gleaming in the sun, seemed to mock him as he watched itssilent entrances with feverish glances. He knew not but what his home hadalready been invaded. Knew! No, he knew nothing, save that he washelpless.

  More than once, despair urged him to force his way into the presence ofthe tyrant himself and demand his freedom, or to boldly pass the outergate and gain the fishermen's boats. But the madness of such an act wasevident even to his own wild thoughts. At every outlet a guard was lollinglazily on his spear, his gilded panoply shining in the sun. One shadowyhope there was, that Cestus might have persuaded Neaera to proceed to Rome.But that was hoping against hope: the unhappy potter knew in his heart shewould never consent. No--there she would remain until he returned, andthere she would be the prey of the spoiler.

  The big drops stood on his pale forehead as the agony of his mind torehim. His overloaded brain seemed to rock with a vague, hideous burden.Suddenly the sunlight brightened, as it were, into a fierce white glare.The vast fabric of the palace, with each neighbouring object, seemed toheave up round him with a motion which filled him with a deadly sickness,and caused him to spread out his arms, as if the surging masses were aboutto be launched upon him.

  Out of the sky gigantic shapes whirled and swooped upon him; but when, asit seemed, they were on the point of crushing him, they dwindled and fledas suddenly away. His very brain seemed to contract and distend as rapidlyin the same awful proportions. It was terrific--he strove to shout aloud inhis terror, but his voice died within him, and his limbs were immovable.

  The colossal masses and spheres which darted down upon him shot away againinto tiny twinkling specks--so far away, into such immensity of space, thathis soul shuddered with a frightful sensation at the awful gulf yawningbefore him. Back they came--swelling as they rushed, in the brief second oftheir career, like Titanic globes upon his paralysed vision. One of themtook the semblance of a face, distorted and ghastly. Down it swooped instupendous bulk, so close that his brain seemed to burst with itsappalling proximity. His delirious senses saw in it a livid, grinningcaricature of Caesar's ghastly visage--he thrust out his arms at it andshrieked in terror--tottered and fell senseless to the ground.

  * * * * * * *

  When he recovered consciousness he found himself lying on the ground wherehe had fallen. A circle of faces surrounded him, and Zeno was kneelingbeside him with a cup in his hand.

  'Ah, now he is coming to,' said the Greek, as the potter gave a deep sighand slightly opened his eyes. 'Back, back--further back!'

  The idle, gazing menials gave way, and Zeno held the cup to Masthlion'slips. A few mouthfuls restored the potter, and he looked around. Hisfaculties cleared, and he shuddered as his memory brought back those dreadvisions of his overstrained brain.

  'This comes of fasting and watching, Surrentine,' quoth Zeno, offering himthe cup again; 'Nature is spiteful when robbed of her due.'

  'I must have fainted,' muttered Masthlion feebly.

  'Ay, with a yell which was enough to curdle the heart of a dead man!'

  'I shall soon be all right, but I must confess to a certain weakness anddizziness.'

  'Come, these fellows shall help you to your bed.'

  But Masthlion, refusing the offer, walked away unassisted, though somewhatfalteringly, inside the palace to his pallet, whereon he stretched himselfgladly, for he was not a little shaken and confused.

  Zeno flung a cloak over him, and set some drink near him. Masthlionthanked him for his kindness.

  'I was bidden to take care of thee, and I dare not disobey--that is all,'answered the other, with a grin. 'But listen, potter, I may tell thee thismuch, and it is as much as I know so far, that thou art to go away beforenightfall--how and in what way I know not.'

  'The gods bless you for the words,' cried Masthlion, whose face lightedwith unspeakable joy.

  Ze
no shrugged his shoulders, and hastened away.

  The joyful intelligence appeared to pour a calm, soothing influence on thesuffering man's spirit, and, in weariness and weakness of mind and body,he fell into a profound slumber.

  He seemed to have slept only a few minutes when he was aroused by a handtouching him on the shoulder. He looked up and saw Zeno once more besidehim. The daylight had failed, and the little room was nearly dark.

  'How do you feel?' asked the steward.

  'Better--I have slept.'

  'Three good hours--you are now to depart--make ready.' Masthlion, withtrembling hands, lifted his wallet from the floor.

  'I am ready,' said he.

  They went out, and the steward never spoke until they reached the outergate.

  Conversing with the soldier on guard was an individual well wrapped up ina cloak.

  'Here is your charge,' said Zeno, addressing him.

  The other nodded and ejaculated, 'Good,' as he bestowed a sharp glance onthe potter.

  'Farewell,' pursued the Greek to the latter; 'I come no further, and hereour acquaintance ends, I suppose. Plautus goes to the opposite shore; hewill take charge of you, and has instructions to see you safelybestowed--farewell, Surrentine!'

  The man called Plautus laughed. Masthlion, in his eager excitement to begone, uttered his farewell and thanks rather hastily.

  'Come, then, Surrentine,' quoth Plautus, striding through the gate, 'theboat waits, and I have far to go and much to do.'

  The potter needed no encouragement to quit the abhorred precincts of thevilla, and when once clear of its shadow, he breathed a prayer ofthankfulness and relief. With a light step and eager heart he followed therapid pace of his conductor, his mind being too full of hopes and fears toattempt a conversation.

  The absence of any command from the Emperor with regard to Neaera, heregarded with satisfaction, as a plausible argument that no furtherinsistance in the matter was intended. Yet he was anxious--more anxiousthan he cared to own. He burned for the moment to arrive when he shouldenter his own door again--and yet he dreaded it too.

  Once he was curious enough to ask of his companion, if he was to be landedon the opposite point, in which case he would have a long journey on footto accomplish. He received only an unintelligible growl in response; so,fearing to irritate what seemed to be a cross-grained temper, he held hispeace.

  Descending the steep declivity they issued on the narrow Marina, where agalley ready drawn up awaited them. Its crew of about eight men werelolling about amongst the idlers, but when the gruff voice of Plautus fellon their ears, they sprang to their places in readiness to ply their heavyoars.

  'In with you,' said Plautus to Masthlion; and the boat, by a vigorousshove, was swept out on the bay.

  'Give way--bend your backs, and the sooner we shall be home again,' calledPlautus, as he seized the steering oar.

  'Sit you just there, and move not, Surrentine.'

  He pointed to a place just astern of the stroke-oarsman. The potter satdown and became again absorbed in his reflections.

  The slaves were all picked men of large frame and muscle, and they urgedthe boat through the water at a swift pace. The dusk was beginning tofall, and the distant shore was barely visible, though the dark masses ofmountain above were sharply outlined against the clear sky. They skirtedthe stupendous cliffs, upon the brink of which, far above, rested thewalls of the villa Jovis. The sea broke with a sullen, dismal plashagainst the perpendicular wall of ragged rock, and the boat was stillmoving in the shadow of the overhanging cliffs, when Plautus, in his deeptones, bade the men cease rowing.

  They lay on their oars, and the boat, with its freight of motionlessforms, glided silently along like a phantom. Masthlion looked up toaccount for the sudden command. The frowning, towering rocks, theportentous gloom, and the cold inky water sent a shudder through hisframe.

  'Surrentine,' said the voice of Plautus, 'you are the potter who came toshow to Caesar a curious kind of glassware?'

  Masthlion answered in the affirmative. The question took him by surprise,so completely had all thoughts of his unlucky invention been displaced bythose of Neaera.

  'Are you alone possessed of the secret of making that same glass?'

  'I alone--why, friend?' replied Masthlion.

  'Why,' said the cloaked Plautus in his grating tones, 'because it has beendecreed that you shall take your secret with you elsewhere.'

  'Elsewhere!' cried Masthlion, with a sharp foreboding; 'what meanyou--where am I to take it?'

  'Where it can never be found again--to the bottom of the sea!'

  As Plautus uttered the words he threw up his arm. Simultaneously thepotter's throat was grasped from behind by a hand of iron. As he fellhelplessly back, a poniard was plunged deep into his heart--all in a briefsecond of time, ere he could make a sound or motion.

  The assassin raised his weapon for another stroke, but it was unneeded--hehad already done his terrible work too well. His victim had died on theinstant, without a murmur; his gentle heart was still for ever.

  The voice of Plautus broke on the terrible silence. 'Habet!' he said, 'agood stroke--Caesar's justice must be done. Now for the daughter, whom heis bound to father in this one's place. We must get on--quick, in withhim!'

  A heavily-weighted cord was produced--there was a sullen plunge, and theboat again went foaming through the water to complete its mission ofviolence.