The Robe

by Lloyd C. Douglas

  ‘Appius,’ she said, ‘as the master of Arpino, you can marry us. Is that not so?’

  ‘It’s the very best thing I dol’ boasted Appius, thumping his chest.

  ‘Today?’ asked Marcellus.

  ‘Of course!’ assured Appius.

  ‘Let us sit down,’ suggested Antonia, ‘and make some plans. Now—we can have a quiet little wedding in the atrium, with nobody but the family—By the way—where is Antony?’

  ‘Not up yet,’ said Marcellus. I’ve inquired for him.’

  ‘Or’—went on Antonia—‘we can invite everybody! These people in Arpino love you both. It would be wonderful for them if—’

  ‘Let’s have it out on the green,’ urged Diana.

  ‘Where Marcellus used to talk to them,’ said Appius.

  ‘At sunset,’ said Antonia.

  ‘If we are agreed on that,’ said Appius, ‘I shall send word to Vobiscus that they are to have a holiday. It will give them a chance to clean up, and be presentable.’

  ‘That’s very kind,’ said Marcellus.

  ‘Here comes Antony now—the sluggard,' said his mother, tenderly. Antony was sauntering along with his head bent, apparently in a profound study. Presently he glanced up, paused momentarily, and then came running. Marcellus embraced him affectionately.

  ‘Why hasn’t someone called me?’ complained Antony. ‘How long can you stay with us, Marcellus?’

  ‘We are going to keep them as long as we can, dear,’ said his mother. ‘Diana and Marcellus are to be married—tonight.’

  Antony, stunned a little by the announcement, solemnly offered Marcellus his hand. Then he turned to Diana, hardly knowing how to felicitate her.

  ‘She’s supposed to be kissed,’ advised his father.

  Antony flushed and appeared at a great disadvantage until Diana came to his rescue with a kiss so frankly given that his composure was restored.

  Saying that he must dispatch a servant to the vineyard, Kaeso turned away. Antonia announced that if they were to have a party tonight, she would have to do something about it without delay. Antony, surmising that he, too, was expected to contrive an errand, remembered that he hadn’t had his breakfast. Marcellus and Diana sat down on the lectus, their fingers intertwined.

  ‘Now you must tell me how Demetrius found you,’ said Diana.

  It was a long story, a moving story that brought the tears to her eyes. Poor Demetrius—so loyal and so bravel And his restoration—so mysterious! How happy to be free—and going home! And back to Theodosia!

  ‘He hasn’t much to offer her,’ said Marcellus. ‘The life of an active Christian, my dear, is lightly held. Demetrius is not a man to shun danger. However—Theodosia will love him no less on that account. If he goes to her, she will take him—for good or ill.’

  ‘I think you meant a little of that for me,’ murmured Diana. ‘Very well, Marcellus—I shall accept you that way.’

  He drew her close and kissed her.

  ‘Kaeso believes,’ he said, after a long silence, ‘and I agree with him, that it may be fairly safe now for me to take you home to your mother. There is no charge against you. There will be no point to Caligula’s pretense of rescuing you, after we are married.’

  ‘But how about you, dear?’ asked Diana, anxiously. There will be much talk about your return, after you were thought to be drowned. Will it come to the Emperor’s ears that you are a Christian?’

  ‘Very likely—but we must take that risk. Caligula is erratic. His attention may be diverted from the Christians. The fact that my father is an influential Senator might make the youngster think twice before arresting me. In any ease—you can’t remain in seclusion indefinitely. Let’s have it done with—and see what comes of it.’

  ‘When shall we go?’

  ‘The Kaesos will be hurt if we rush away. Let us wait until the day after tomorrow. The Ludi Romani will have begun. Perhaps we can make the trip safely.’

  ‘Without any attempt to avoid the patrols?’

  ‘Yes, darling. If we were to disguise ourselves—and be apprehended—we would have thrown our case away.’

  Diana snuggled into his arms.

  ‘I shall not be afraid,’ she murmured, ‘if you are with me.’

  ***

  All afternoon the men of Arpino raked the grass on the village green. Vobiscus superintended the building of a little arbor which the girls decorated with ferns and flowers. All day long, the kitchens of the villa were busy. The ovens turned out honey cakes. The air was heavy with the appetizing aroma of lambs and ducks roasting on spits before hot charcoal fires. Kaeso’s vintner thought his master had gone mad when he learned that wine was to be served to all Arpino!

  The hum of voices on the green was hushed when the wedding-party appeared at the villa gate. Then there arose a concerted shout! Cheers for Diana! Cheers for Marcellus! Cheers, too, for the Kaesos!

  They took their places under the little, impromptu portico, and a silence fell as Kaeso—never so dignified—joined their hands and demanded them to say that they wished to be husband and wife. In orotund tones, he announced their marriage.

  The wedded pair turned about to face the Arpinos. Another happy shout went up! The Kaeso family offered affectionate wishes and caresses. For a moment, the village wasn’t sure what to do. An old man ventured to come forward and take their hands, bobbing his head violently. Vobiscus came strutting a little, as became the overseer, followed by his wife, who wore the gayest shawl present. More women came up, trailed by their husbands who shouldered themselves along, grinning awkwardly and scratching an ear. Marcellus knew most of them by name. Diana hugged Metella, and Metella cried. She was going to put Marcellus off with a stiff little curtsy, but he caught her to him and kissed her, which was by far the most noteworthy incident of the occasion. There were cheers for Metella—who was so embarrassed she didn’t know where to go or what to do when she got there. Presently Appius Kaeso signaled Vobiscus that he wanted to make an announcement, and Vobiscus gave a stentorian growl that produced a profound silence. The master, he declaimed, had something to say. Kaeso bade them to the feast. Already the villa slaves were coming out through the gate in an imposing procession, weighted by their pleasant burdens.

  ‘Well’—said Kaeso—‘shall we return to the villa?’

  ‘Oh, please, no!’ said Diana. ‘Let us have our dinner here—with them.’

  ‘You surely are a precious darling!’ murmured Marcellus.

  ‘But we have ices!’ protested Kaeso.

  Diana slipped her arm through his, affectionately.

  ‘They can wait,’ she whispered.

  Kaeso smiled down into her eyes, and nodded indulgently.

  ‘Will you look at Antony?’ laughed his mother. Antony, behind a table, wearing an apron, was slicing lamb for the common people of Arpino.

  ***

  Sarpedon told. With his professional pride deeply wounded, and nothing left to lose in the regard of the Gallio household, he decided to make good his threat to Marcellus.

  But it was something more than an impulsive desire to avenge his humiliation that led the physician to betray the family whose lucrative patronage he had inherited from his noted father.

  Had the unhappy incident occurred a few weeks earlier, Sarpedon would have pocketed his indignation; but times had changed. Nothing was now to be had by currying favor with the conservatives. Indeed, under the present dynasty one had far better cut loose from such dead weight and not risk going down with it. Young Caligula had no patience with the elder statesmen who believe in national economy and viewed his reckless extravagances with stern disapproval. It was common knowledge that Little Boots intended to break the gray-haired obstructionists at the earliest opportunity.

  Sarpedon knew Quintus, though he had seen nothing of him since his sudden elevation to a place of prominence in Caligula’s court. Fortunately for himself, old Tuscus had died in the spring; and Sarpedon, who had ministered to the aged poet-statesman’s infirmitie
s, had had no occasion to see anything more of their household. He did not know whether he was to be retained as the family physician, now that the old man was gone. Doubtless it would be greatly to his advantage if he could show Quintus which side he was on in the struggle between Little Boots and the Senate.

  Hot and eager though he was, Sarpedon had too much sense to go plunging into Quintus’ august presence with his betrayal of the Gallios. He dignifiedly asked for an appointment, and restlessly waited the three days which elapsed before the high and mighty Quintus could give him an audience. This delay, however, had enabled Sarpedon to improve his story; for, in the meantime, his butler had learned from Decimus that the Senator and Marcellus had made off with the convalescent Greek on some secret journey.

  Having fought his way through the swirling crowds, and arriving at the Imperial Palace disheveled and perspiring, Sarpedon was left standing—for there was no place to sit down—in the great gold and marble and ivory foyer swarming with provincial potentates waiting their tum for favors. Though it was still early in the forenoon, the garishly arrayed dignitaries represented every known state of intoxication, ranging from rude clownishness on through to repulsively noisy nausea.

  At length the physician was permitted a brief interview with Quintus, who was prepared to make short work of him until he said he had information about Gallio’s Greek slave Demetrius. At that, Quintus gave attention. A Jewish Christian had been invited into the Gallio villa to perform mummeries over the Greek, who had been slightly wounded. Tribune Marcellus—far from dead—had brought the Christian quack to the villa, and had made it plain enough that he, too, was thoroughly in sympathy with these Christian revolutionists. The Senator and Marcellus had spirited the Greek out of the house and set off with him, doubtless to hide him somewhere.

  Quintus was deeply interested, but all the thanks Sarpedon received was a savage denunciation for waiting so long before bringing the news.

  ‘You always were a bungler, Sarpedon!’ yelled Quintus. ‘Had you not been the son of your wise father, no one would trust you to purge a dog of his worms!’

  Having thus learned where he stood in the esteem of the Emperor’s favorite, Sarpedon bowed deeply and backed himself out of the room and into the stinking foyer. One hardly knew, these days, how to conduct oneself with any hope of favor at Caligula’s hands. One thing was sure, the Empire was on the way toward ruin; but, long before Caligula crashed, he would have seen to it that everybody who believed in any decencies at all was battered into silent submission.

  Quintus did not immediately notify Little Boots of Sarpedon’s disclosures, thinking it better to capture his quarry. Perhaps he might learn something that would please the Emperor. Marcellus was alive. Without question, he would know the whereabouts of Diana.

  A small contingent of seasoned Palace Guards was detailed to put the Gallio villa under surveillance and report all movements there.

  Next day they brought back word that the Senator had returned alone in his carriage; but so great was the confusion at the Palace that Quintus decided to wait a more convenient season for action. The court festivities were at such a pitch that there was no room for anything more. The Senator’s case would have to wait. Meantime—he told the guards—they should continue their watch at the villa. If Tribune Marcellus showed up they were to place him under arrest.

  This affair was likely to cause the haughty Tullus some embarrassment before they had done with it; but—Quintus shrugged—let Tullus take his medicine and like it. He had no more use for Tullus than he had for Marcellus. It pleased him now to reflect that he had suggested Tullus for the dirty job of cleaning the Christians out of the Catacombs. Quintus chuckled. It would be droll, indeed, if Tullus found himself obliged to arrest his long-time friend: his brother-in-law, tool Very well—let them take it!

  ***

  Late in the night of the third day of the Ludi Romani, the news was brought to Quintus that Diana had just arrived at her mother’s home, accompanied by Marcellus.

  Little Boots, who had been drinking heavily all day, was in a truculent mood, cursing and slapping his attendants as they tried to get him to bed. Ordinarily, after a whole day’s drunkenness, His Majesty could be put away quietly; but such was the infernal din of the streets below and throughout the Palace that the Emperor was wide awake with a bursting head.

  Even Quintus was coming in for his share of abuse. He found himself responsible for the noise of the celebrants and the shocking condition of the palace. Furthermore, declared the thick-tongued Emperor, the ceremonies today in the Forum Julium had been a disgrace; and whose fault was that, if not Quintus’? Never had there been anything so tiresome as that interminable Ode to Jupiter! Never had there been anything so dull as those solemn choruses!

  ‘Yes—but—Your Majesty, were we not obliged to follow the ancient ritual?’ Quintus had asked in honeyed tones. Immediately he repented of having tried to defend himself. It was the wrong time to answer Little Boots with a ‘yes—but—,’ no matter what justification warranted it. His Majesty went into a shrieking, slobbering rage! He was aweary of being served by fools. High time, he felt, to give some better man a chance to do his bidding. In nothing—in nothing had Quintus proved himself an able minister!

  At that point, Quintus, needing to improve his standing in the Emperor’s regard, had motioned them all out of the imperial bedchamber.

  ‘The daughter of Gallus has been found. Your Majesty,’ he announced.

  ‘Ha!’ shouted Little Boots. ‘So—at last—your snails caught up with her; eh? And where did they find this beautiful icicle?’

  ‘At home, sire. She arrived there but an hour ago.’

  ‘Did your favorite Greek bring her back?’

  ‘No, sire—the Greek has been hidden by Senator Gallio. Diana was brought back by Tribune Marcellus, who was thought to have drowned himself.’

  ‘Oh?—so he turned up; eh? The lover! And what has he been doing since he was supposed to have drowned?’

  ‘In seclusion somewhere, sire. It is reported that he is a Christian.’

  ‘What?’ screamed Little Boots. 'A Christian! And why should a Tribune consort with such rabble? Does the fool think he can lead a revolution? Let him be arrested for sedition! Bring him here at once! Now!’

  ‘It is very late, Your Majesty, and tomorrow is a crowded day.’

  ‘We are weary unto death, Quintus, with these tiresome ceremonies. What manner of torture does old Jupiter inflict on us tomorrow?’

  ‘Your Majesty attends the games in the forenoon. Then there is the reception to the Praetorian Guard and the Senate, followed by the banquet for them—and their women.’

  ‘Speeches—no doubt,’ groaned Little Boots.

  ‘It is the custom, sire, and after the banquet there is a procession to the Temple of Jupiter where the Senate does its homage at twilight.’

  ‘A dull occasion, Quintus. Has it occurred to you that this banquet for the sullen old dotards might be enlivened with something besides oratory?’

  ‘Your Majesty will have diverting company at table—the daughter of Herod Antipas, sire, who is the Tetrarch of Galilee and Peraea.’

  ‘That scrawny, jingling wench—Salome?’ yelled Little Boots. ‘We have seen quite enough of her!’

  ‘But I thought Your Majesty had found her very entertaining,’ said Quintus, risking a sly smile. ‘Was she not eager to please Your Majesty?’

  Little Boots made a wry face. Suddenly his heavy eyes lighted.

  ‘Invite the daughter of Gallus! Let her be seated at our right, and Salome at our left. We will encourage Salome to repeat some of her best stories.’ He laughed painfully, holding his head.

  ‘Would not Legate Gallus consider that a grave offense to his daughter, sire?’

  ‘It will serve her right,' mumbled Little Boots, ‘for bestowing her precious smiles upon a Tribune who hopes to see another government. Send for him without delay, and let him be confined in the Palace prison!’
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br />   Quintus made a fluttering gesture of protest.

  ‘Imprisoned—as a Tribune—of course.' Little Boots hastened to add. ‘Make him comfortable. And let Diana be bidden to this banquet. You, personally, may extend the invitation, Quintus, early tomorrow. If she is reluctant to accept, suggest that the Emperor might be more disposed to deal leniently with her Christian friend should she be pleased to honor this occasion with her presence.’

  ‘But I thought Your Majesty had been attracted to Diana, and had hoped to win her favor. Would it serve Your Majesty best to threaten her? Perhaps—if she were made much of by the Emperor, the daughter of Gallus might forget her fondness for Marcellus.’

  ‘No!’ barked Little Boots. 'What that haughty creature needs is nor flattery, but a flick of the whip! And as for her lover’—he cocked his head and grinned bitterly—‘we have other plans for him.’

  ‘He is the son of Senator Gallio, sire!’ said Quintus.

  ‘All the worse for him!’ shouted Little Boots. ‘We’ll give the old man a lesson, too—and the Senate can draw its own conclusions!’

  ***

  No less a personage than Quintus himself, attended by a handsomely uniformed contingent of Equestrian Knights, delivered the banquet invitation to Diana. Summoned early from her rooms, she met him in the atrium. She was pale and her eyes were swollen with weeping, but she bore herself proudly. Paula, dazed and frightened, stood by her side.

  Quintus deferentially handed her the ornate scroll; and while Diana helplessly fumbled with the gaudy seals, he thought to save a little precious time—for the forenoon was well advanced and the day was loaded with duties. He explained the message. Diana gasped involuntarily.

  ‘Will you say to His Majesty,' spoke up Paula, trying to steady her trembling voice, ‘that the daughter of Legate Gallus is far too heartsick to be a suitable dinner companion for the Emperor?’

  ‘Madame’—Quintus bowed stiffly—‘this imperial summons is not addressed to the wife of the Legate Gallus, but to his daughter. As she is present, she shall answer for herself.’