The Robe

by Lloyd C. Douglas

  ‘Do not talk to him yet,’ advised Peter, kindly. ‘He has come a long way, and is still bewildered.’ He took up his robe and put it on. You may feed him the broth, as much or as little as he wants. You remain with him. Do not call his master until he asks for him. Admit no others until he is stronger. I am going now.’

  ‘But, sir,’ protested Tertia, ‘are you leaving without seeing the family? They will want to thank you.’

  ‘I do not want to answer questions,’ said Peter, huskily; and Tertia could see that the big man was fatigued. ‘I do not want to talk. I am spent.’

  At the door, he turned to look again at Demetrius.

  ‘Courage!’ he said, in a low tone of command. ‘Remember the promise I have made—for you to keep! You are to return to your own countrymen—and testify for our Christos who has made you whole!’

  Demetrius’ white forehead wrinkled a little, but he made no reply.

  After the door had closed, Tertia held a spoonful of the hot broth to his lips. He took it apathetically, studying her face for recognition. She gave him more broth and smiled into his perplexed eyes.

  ‘Know me now?’ she whispered, wistfully.

  ‘Tertia,’ he answered, with an effort; then, ‘Call Marcellus.’

  She put down the cup and hastened to find the Tribune. The others crowded about her, asking insistent questions, but she was resolute that only his master might see him now. Marcellus went swiftly, his heart beating hard. He took Demetrius’ hands.

  ‘Peter has brought you back!’ he said, in an awed voice.

  Demetrius moistened his lips with a sluggish tongue.

  ‘A long journey,’ he mumbled.

  ‘Do you remember anything?’

  ‘A little.’

  ‘See anyone?’

  ‘Not clearly—but there were many voices.’

  ‘Did you want to return?’

  Demetrius sighed and shook his head.

  ‘Where is Peter?’ asked Marcellus.

  ‘Gone,’ said Demetrius.

  Tertia, suspecting that his laconic replies meant he wished to talk to Marcellus privately, slipped out of the room. Demetrius brightened perceptibly.

  ‘Diana is at Arpino—at the villa of Kaeso—in good hands—but—you had better go to her. The Emperor wants her. She is in danger.’

  ‘Are you well enough, Demetrius,’ asked Marcellus, nervously—‘to let me go—at once?’

  ‘Yes, sir. I shall be leaving, too. Peter made a vow. I am to return to Greece.’

  ‘For the new Kingdom!’ Marcellus regarded him with an expression of deference. ‘You have been given a great responsibility—full of danger. I shall make out your certificate of manumission—today.’

  ‘I shall be sorry to leave you, sir,’ sighed Demetrius.

  ‘Nor do I want you to go,’ declared Marcellus. ‘But if your life has been saved with a vow, you must fulfill it—at any cost!’

  Tertia had opened the door a little way, her anxious frown hinting that there had been enough talk. Marcellus nodded for her to come in. She brought the bowl of broth to the bedside. Demetrius took it hungrily.

  ‘That’s good!’ said Marcellus. ‘You’re gaining fast.’

  Feeling that the other members of the family should be notified without further delay, he went to his mother’s room, finding them all there. He blurted out the news that Demetrius had recovered and was having his breakfast.

  ‘Impossible!’ said Gallio, starting toward the door.

  Marcellus intercepted him.

  ‘Wait a little, sir,’ he advised. ‘He’s not very strong yet. It is an effort for him to talk.’

  ‘But I want to speak to this Galilean!’ said Gallio. ‘This is no small thing that has happened. Demetrius was dying! Sarpedon said so!’

  ‘Peter has left, sir. Tertia says he was very weary and didn’t want to see anyone.’

  ‘How do you think he did all this?’ inquired Cornelia.

  ‘He is a Christian,’ replied Marcellus. ‘Some of these men who lived close to Jesus have developed peculiar powers. It was no great surprise to me, mother, that Demetrius recovered. He, too, is a Christian. He says that Peter made a vow for him to keep. He is to go back to Greece and work among his own countrymen—’

  ‘What kind of work?’ Lucia wanted to know.

  ‘Enlisting people to support the new Kingdom,’ said her brother.

  ‘Won’t he get into trouble—talking about a new Kingdom?’ she asked.

  ‘Doubtless,’ agreed Marcellus. ‘But Demetrius will not let that detain him.’

  ‘Perhaps he may be glad to return to Greece,’ said Lucia. ‘Didn’t you tell me he was fond of a girl in Athens? What was her name—Theodosia?’

  The Senator said he was going down to have his breakfast in the library, and asked Marcellus to join him. Cornelia said she was going back to sleep.

  Lucia went to her suite; and, a few minutes later, tapped softly on Demetrius’ door. Tertia admitted her, and left the room.

  ‘We are so glad you are better,’ said Lucia. ‘Marcellus says you are going home to Greece.’ She laid a ring in his hand. ‘I have kept it safely for you. Now you should have it back.’

  Demetrius regarded the ring with brooding eyes, and rubbed it caressingly between his palms. Lucia gave him a sly smile.

  ‘Perhaps you will give it to Theodosia,’ she said.

  He smiled—but sobered instantly.

  ‘She may find it a costly gift,’ he said, it might not be fair—to ask Theodosia to share my dangers.’

  Sarpedon came in now and stood at the foot of the bed, silently viewing his patient with baffled eyes. It was plain to see that Demetrius was surprised to see him.

  ‘The physician,’ said Lucia. ‘Do you remember his being here in the night?’

  ‘No,’ said Demetrius. ‘I don’t remember.’

  ‘What did he do—that big fellow from Galilee?’ queried Sarpedon, moving around to the other side of the bed.

  ‘He prayed,’ said Demetrius.

  ‘What god does he pray to?’ asked Sarpedon.

  ‘There is only one,’ replied Demetrius.

  ‘A Jewish god?’

  ‘No—not Jewish. God is the father of all men—everywhere. Anyone may pray to him in the name of Jesus who has come to establish a Kingdom in justice and peace.’

  ‘Ah—this new Christian heresy!’ said Sarpedon. ‘Is your friend from Palestine aware that he can be arrested for pretending to heal diseases by such practices?’

  ‘Pretending?’ exclaimed Lucia. ‘He wasn’t pretending when he healed Demetrius!’

  ‘He should be reported to the authorities,’ said Sarpedon, walking stiffly toward the door.

  ‘One would think that a physician would rejoice to see his patient get well,’ remarked Lucia, ‘no matter how he was healed.’

  Sarpedon made no comment. Closing the door emphatically, he proceeded downstairs and entered the library where the Senator and Marcellus were at breakfast. Abandoning his customary suavity, he voiced an indignant protest.

  ‘Come, Sarpedon, sit down,’ said the Senator, amiably, ‘and have breakfast with us. We do not blame you for feeling as you do. But this is an unusual occurrence. You did the best you could. Doubtless you are pleased that the Greek is recovering, even if the treatment was—what shall we say?—irregular?’

  Sarpedon refused the fruit that Decimus obsequiously offered him, and remained standing, flushed with anger.

  ‘It might be unfortunate,’ he said, frostily, ‘if it were known that Senator Gallio had called in one of the Christian seditionists to treat an illness in his household.’

  Marcellus leaped from his chair and confronted Sarpedon, face to face.

  ‘You—and your Hippocratic oath!’ he shouted. You are supposed to be interested in healing! Has it come to pass that your profession is so jealous—and wretched of heart—that it is enraged when a man’s life is restored by some other means than your futile remedies?’ />
  Sarpedon backed toward the door.

  ‘You will regret that speech, Tribune Marcellus!’ he declared, as he stamped out of the room.

  For a few minutes, neither the Senator nor Marcellus spoke, as they'resumed their places at the table.

  ‘I had hoped we might conciliate him,’ said Gallio. ‘His pride has been wounded. He can cause us much trouble. If he lets it be known that we are harboring Demetrius—’

  ‘True—we must get Demetrius out of here!’

  ‘Will he be able to travel—today?’

  ‘He must! I am riding to Arpino. He shall go with me.’

  ‘Nonsense!’ scoffed the Senator. ‘He cannot sit a horse today! I have it! We will send him in a carriage to Pescara. They will hardly be looking for him at an Adrian port.’ He rose and paced the room. ‘I shall go with him. My presence in the carriage may help him to evade too close scrutiny. Besides—I may be of some service in securing his passage. If there is no ship sailing at once, I may be able to charter one that would see him as far as Brundisium. He should have no difficulty finding a ship there, bound for Corinth.’

  ‘This is most generous of you, sir,’ declared Marcellus. ‘If every man treated his slaves—’

  ‘Well—as for that’—the Senator chuckled a little—‘it has not been my custom to turn out my carriage and personally escort my slaves when they embark for foreign lands. Demetrius’ case is different. He has had his life handed back to him in an extraordinary manner and he must keep the pledge that was made for him. Otherwise—he has no right to live!’

  ‘You would make a good Christian, sir,’ said Marcellus, realizing at once—by his father’s sudden scowl—that the remark was untimely.

  ‘Honorable men were keeping their word, my son, long before this Christian religion was proposed.... Come—let us arrange to be on our way. This is not a bad day for it. Rome will not be looking for fugitives this morning. The Ludi Romani will be the city’s only concern. Tell Lentius to get out the carriage.’

  Chapter XXV

  SKIRTING the rim of the city by a circuitous route, and avoiding the congested highways until they were a dozen miles to the east, the carriage, and the horsemen who followed at a little distance, had proceeded without being challenged. Sometimes they had been detained at intersections by the heavy traffic pouring in from the country, but no one had questioned them.

  The Senator’s belief that this might be safely accomplished had proved correct. If a man wished to leave Rome inconspicuously, this was the day for it. The Ludi Romani—most venerable and popular of all the festivals—was at hand. Though still three days in the offing, the annual celebration in honor of Jupiter was casting a pleasant shadow before it.

  Already the populace was in a carnival mood, the streets crowded with riotous merrymakers. Residents were decorating their houses with gay banners and bunting. Their guests were arriving from afar. The noise and confusion increased hourly as every avenue of approach to the capital was jammed with tourists, homecomers, minstrels, magicians, hawkers, dancers, acrobats, pickpockets, and traveling menageries of screeching monkeys and trained bears.

  Everyone had caught the contagion of hilarity. All serious work had been abandoned; all discipline relaxed. The word had spread that this year’s Ludi Romani would be notable for its gaiety. The new Emperor was not stingy. Glum old Tiberius, who frowned on amusements, was dead and buried. Tight-pursed old Sejanus, who had doled out the sesterces—a few at a time—to Prince Gaius, was also dead. So was Gaius—and good riddance it was, too. This season’s Ludi Romani would be worth attending! Little Boots would see to it that everybody had a good time. Even the harried Christians could count upon a ten-day respite from persecution, for the authorities would be too drunk to bother with them.

  At Avezzano, the Senator’s carriage halted in the shade near a fork in the road. Marcellus, reining up alongside, dismounted to bid farewell to the occupants, for their ways parted here. Thrusting his arm through the open window, he shook hands with his father, assuring him that they would meet soon; and then with Demetrius, who, still weak, was much moved by their parting. Marcellus tried bravely to keep his own voice under control.

  ‘Safe journey, Demetrius!’ he said. ‘And success to all your undertakings! It may be a long time before we meet—’

  ‘Perhaps not, sir,’ murmured Demetrius, smiling wanly.

  ‘Well—be the time long or short, my friend, we shall meet! You believe that; don’t you?’

  ‘With all my heart!’

  Remounting the mettlesome Ishtar, Marcellus galloped away, waving a hand as he turned south on the road to Arpino. Here the traffic was lighter and better time could be made. As the grade stiffened, Ishtar’s enthusiasm cooled somewhat, and she settled to an easy canter.

  Now that he had seen Demetrius safely started on his journey, Marcellus found his spirits reviving. He was on the way to Diana! Nothing else mattered now. At Alatri, he fed Ishtar in the stable-yard of the inn, while a slave—to whom he had tossed a few coppers—rubbed her down. Leaving the town, Marcellus led the mare for a mile; then, remounting, pressed on. The peaks of the Apennines glistened in the afternoon sunshine.

  It was deep in the night when he reached Arpino and was recognized by the guard at the villa gate.

  ‘Do not rouse anyone,' he said. ‘I shall stable the mare and find some place to sleep.’

  Not content to trust even Kaeso’s competent hostlers with the care of Ishtar, Marcellus supervised her drinking, talking to her all the while in a fraternal tone that made the stable-boys laugh. Learning that his former quarters were unoccupied, he went to bed utterly exhausted by his experiences during the past twenty-four hours.

  ***

  Appius Kaeso had felt it an unnecessary precaution for Diana to work in the vineyard through these days immediately preceding and during the Ludi Romani which, he knew, would be occupying the full attention of all who were interested in taking her to the Emperor.

  Last night they had brought her back to the villa; and as this was the first morning, for some time, that Diana could feel comparatively safe and at leisure, Antonia had insisted upon her sleeping undisturbed until she was thoroughly rested.

  Coming out to the stables shortly after dawn, Kaeso learned of Marcellus’ arrival and went to his room, finding him awake. In the ensuing halfhour of serious talk, they informed each other of everything that had occurred since they parted. Kaeso, Marcellus observed, had lost much of his impetuous bluster, but could still be identified by his willingness to offer prompt advice.

  ‘Why don’t you marry Diana at once?’ queried Kaeso. ‘As you are supposed to be dead, Caligula thinks he has a right to pretend an interest in her welfare. When she becomes your wife, he has no further justification for concerning himself about her.’

  Marcellus, sitting half-dressed on the edge of his bed, spent so long a moment of meditation that Kaeso added, impatiently, ‘You two are in love with each other: aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes—but the fact is, Kaeso,’ said Marcellus, disconsolately, ‘Diana is not at all sure that she wants to marry me.’

  ‘Isn’t sure?’ retorted Kaeso. ‘Of course she’s sure! Why else would she say she was engaged to you?’

  ‘Did she say that?’ Marcellus sat up attentively.

  ‘Nothing less! Isn’t it true?’

  ‘Last time I saw her, Kaeso, she insisted that our marriage would be a mistake, because of my being a Christian.’

  ‘Pouff! Diana is as good a Christian as you are! If being a Christian means showing sympathy and friendliness for people who are beneath you, Diana is entitled to a prize! You should have seen her in the vineyard! For a week or more she has been living in a small cottage, rooming with the girl Metella, to whom she has become much attached; and, as for Metella, it has made her over into another kind of person! You wouldn’t know her!’

  ‘I’m glad,’ said Marcellus. ‘I’m glad Diana has had this experience.’ His eyes clouded. ‘But there is
a great deal of difference between Diana's willingness to practice Christian principles and my own obligation to associate myself with a movement that the Government has outlawed—and spend my time with men whose lives are in constant danger, That is what Diana objects to.’

  ‘Well—you can’t blame her for that!’ snorted Kaeso.

  ‘Nor me.’ declared Marcellus. ‘I have no choice in this matter.’

  ***

  They met alone in the cool atrium. Antonia, who had been seated beside him, suddenly broke off in the midst of what she was saying, and sped away. Diana was slowly descending the marble stairway. Coming quickly to his feet, Marcellus crossed the room to meet her. She hesitated for a moment at first sight of him; then, with an ecstatic smile, came swiftly into his arms.

  ‘My beloved!’ murmured Marcellus, holding her tightly to him. For a long moment they stood locked in their embrace, hungrily sharing the kiss she had offered him. With closed eyes, and tiny breaths like a child’s sobs, Diana relaxed in his arms.

  ‘You came for me,’ she whispered.

  ‘I wish I could have you—always—darling.’

  She nodded slowly, without opening her eyes.

  ‘It was meant to be,’ she breathed, softly.

  ‘Diana!’ He laid his cheek against hers, gently. ‘Do you mean that? Are you mine—in spite of everything?’

  Reaching up both arms, she wrapped them tightly around his neck and gave him her lips passionately.

  ‘Today?’ whispered Marcellus, deeply stirred.

  She drew back to face him with wide eyes, bright with tears.

  ‘Why not?’ she murmured. Slipping out of his arms, she took him by the hand. ‘Cornel’ she said, happily. ‘Let us tell them!’ Her voice was tender. ‘Marcellus—they have been so very good to me. This will please them.’

  Antonia had joined Appius in the garden. Their faces beamed as Marcellus and Diana came down the path, arm in arm, and they rose to meet them. Antonia surprised Marcellus with a kiss that was by no means a mere performance of a social duty, and Diana kissed Appius, to his immense gratification. Then she hugged Antonia, joyfully.