Chapter VII
Agias's Adventure
I
Pisander's view of life became a score of shades more rosy when heseized the hand of the handsome slave-boy, then embraced him, andbegan praising the gods for preserving his favourite's life. Then theworthy philosopher recollected that his wisdom taught him there wereno gods, and he plunged into a rambling explanation of his position,which would have lasted forever, unless Agias had cut him short with amerry gibe, and told him that he must positively come to a tavern andenjoy at least one beaker of good Massic in memory of old friendship.And Pisander, whose spareness of living arose more from a lack ofmeans than from a philosophic aversion to food and good cheer, wassoon seated on a bench in one of the cheap restaurants[91] thatabounded in the city, balancing a very large goblet, and receiving avolley of questions which Agias was discharging about Valeria'seccentricities, Calatinus's canvass, Arsinoe, Semiramis, and the restof the household of which he had been a member.
[91] _Popinae_.
"But you haven't told me, Agias," finally interrupted the poorphilosopher, who had been struggling in turn to satisfy his curiosity,"how you are here, and not--ugh! I hate to think of it--feeding thedogs and the crows."
Agias's face grew grave while he gave the story of his release by theVestal, and subsequent transfer of ownership.
"What was the name of the young man who purchased you, eh?"interpolated Pisander. "I didn't get it."
"Quintus Livius Drusus," replied Agias.
"Who?" cried the philosopher, starting up.
"Quintus Drusus, of Praeneste," repeated the other.
"_Ai! Ai!_ In the name of Zeus!" cried Pisander, dropping the beaker,and spilling the wine all over his threadbare himation. "Oh, such aplot! Such a crime! Was ever anything so villanous ever heard ofbefore!"
"My dear Pisander," exclaimed Agias, all amazement, "what _is_ thematter? Your speech is as obscure as Cinna's[92] poem called 'Zmyrna,'which I've heard was ten years in being written, and must be veryfine, because no one can understand it. No more can I fathom you."
[92] A poet at that time of some little reputation.
"What a stroke of fortune!" raved the philosopher. "How we will berevenged on that rascal, Pratinas! O Destiny, thy decrees are just!"
Again Agias expostulated, and at last brought out of Pisander atolerably coherent account of the conversation which he had heardbetween Valeria and Pratinas. Then, indeed, the merry slave-boy wastroubled. Accustomed to a rather limited ambition in life, he hadattached himself with implicit devotion to Cornelia; first because hispreserver, Drusus, had so enjoined him, and second because each day hegrew more drawn to her personally. The peril which yawned before theunfortunate Drusus menaced at the same time the happiness of hismistress and his own welfare,--for if Lucius Ahenobarbus had his way,Agias himself would become the slave of that not very gentlepatrician. Cornelia and Drusus had had troubles enough before; but inthe present crisis, actual destruction stared Agias's saviour in theface. The situation was maddening, was sickening. Agias wrung hishands in anguish. Then came the healthy reaction. Drusus was stillalive 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 tomatch his keen Greek wits in subtle intrigue against foemen worthy ofhis steel. He would save Drusus's life, would save Cornelia'shappiness. If he succeeded, who knew but that his owner would rewardhim--would give him freedom. And with a natural rebound of spirits,Agias's eyes glittered with expectation and excitement, his cheeksflushed, his form expanded to a manly height.
"_Euge!_ Well done, old friend!" he cried, with the merriment ofintense excitement. "No matter if you say you were only able to hear asmall part of what our dear fellow-Hellene, Pratinas, told Valeria. Ihave gathered enough to defeat the plotters. Leave all to me. If youlearn anything new, send word to the house of Lentulus Crus, and askto see me. And now I must forsake this pleasant wine untasted, andhurry away. My mistress will bless you, and perhaps there will be somereward."
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 ofthe cattle-market.
How Agias had forced his way into Cornelia's presence we have related.The young Greek had stated his unpleasant intelligence asdiplomatically and guardedly as possible; but Cornelia had borne thisshock--following so soon upon one sufficiently cruel--grievouslyenough. After all, she was only a girl--perhaps more mature for heryears than the average maiden of her age of to-day, but almostfriendless, hopeless, and beset with many trials. And this new one wasalmost more than she could bear. We have said that to her suicide hadbut just before appeared a refuge to be desired; but to have Quintusdie, to have him taken out of that life that ought to be so fair forhim, no matter how darksome it was for her; to have him never realizeher ambition that he become a statesman, warrior, philosopher, inshort her ideal hero--this was unbearable! This phase of the questionwas so overpowering that she forgot to feel rage against Ahenobarbusand his wily ally. Cornelia threw herself down upon the floor, andcried to Agias to slay her quickly. She did not care to live; shecould endure no more.
Agias here manifested exquisite tact. Instead of attempting anyordinary means of expostulation, he pleaded with her not to give wayto despair; that Drusus was not yet at the mercy of his enemies; thatshe, if she would, could do an infinite deal to assist him.
"I save Quintus?" questioned Cornelia, with white, quivering lips.
"You can do much, my lady," replied Agias, kindly taking her by thehand, and with gentle pressure forcing her to sit on the divan. "Youcan do what neither I, nor Pisander, nor any one else can accomplish.You can make Lucius Ahenobarbus betray his own plot. You, and youonly, can penetrate the final plans of the conspirators. Therefore bestrong, and do not despair."
"I? What can _I_ do?" cried Cornelia, staring at him with sad,tearless eyes.
"Lady Cornelia," said Agias, delicately, "Drusus would never receiveback his life if it were to be purchased by any sacrifice of honour onyour part. But this is not needed. Lucius Ahenobarbus--forgive myplain speech--worships the ground whereon you tread. A smile from youraises him to Olympus; a compliment from you makes him feel himself agod; a soft word from you creates him the peer of Zeus. Lady, I knowyou hate that man; but for Master Drusus's sake make Ahenobarbusbelieve that you are not indifferent to his advances. Slander Drususbefore him. Complain of the provisions of your father's will that,despite your uncle's intention, will make it difficult to avoid ahateful marriage. If in the past you have been cold to Ahenobarbus,grow gracious; but not too rapidly. Finally, at the proper time, donot 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 hecan be permanently thwarted."
"You say that Drusus can be saved by this?" asked Cornelia, steadyingherself as she rose from the divan;
"I will warn him at once," replied Agias. "Any premature attempt onhis life will certainly fail. But it is not Ahenobarbus that I fear;it is Pratinas. Pratinas, if baffled once, will only be spurred on touse all his cunning in a second trial. We must enmesh the conspiratorsso completely that when their stab is parried, not merely will theirpower to repeat it be gone, but they themselves will be in danger ofretribution. And for this, some one must be confederate to their finalplan."
"Agias," said Cornelia, quietly, "Quintus said that you would be afaithful servant to him and to myself. I believe he was right. Youhave asked a great thing of me, Agias. I would not do it unless Ibelieved that you were unlike other slaves. I might imagine thatLucius Ahenobarbus had bribed you to tell me this story, in order thatI should put myself in his power. But I trust you. I will do anythingyou say. For you Hellenes have wits as keen as sharp steel, and I knowthat you will do all you may to repay your debt to Quintus."
Agias knelt down and kissed the robe of his mistress. "My lady," hesaid gently, "it is no g
rievous thing to be a slave of such as you.Believe me; I will not betray my trust. And now if you can let meleave you, I will hurry to Praeneste, and for the present our minds maybe at rest. For old Mamercus will, I am sure, be able to take goodcare of Master Drusus for yet awhile."
"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 stoodin the middle of the empty room. On the wall facing her was a paintingof "Aphrodite rising from the Foam," which Drusus had given her. Thesensuous smiles on the face of the goddess sickened Cornelia, as shelooked upon it. To her, at the moment, laughter was more hideous thanany sobbing. Outside the door she heard the gay, witless chatter ofthe maids and the valets. They were happy--they--slaves, "speakingtools,"--and she with the blood of the Claudii and Cornelii in herveins, a patrician among patricians, the niece of a consul-elect, awoman who was the heiress of statesmen and overturners ofkingdoms,--_she_ was miserable beyond endurance. Cornelia paced up anddown the room, wishing she might order the giggling maids to beflogged and their laughter turned into howling. Then she summonedCassandra.
* * * * *
Cornelia had never before tried to play the actress, but that nightshe flung herself into the game for life and death with all theearnestness of an energetic, intelligent, and spontaneous woman. Shehad been barely civil to Lucius Ahenobarbus before; to-night the youngman began to persuade himself that the object of his affections wasreally a most adorable coquette, who used a certain brusqueness ofspeech to add to her witchery. He had heard that there had been somevery disagreeable scenes at Praeneste, when Lentulus had told his niecethat Drusus, on account of his dangerous politics, was unfit to be herhusband. But Ahenobarbus was sure that either these accounts wereexaggerated, or more likely, Cornelia, like most women, was quick tofall in love and quick to leave an old sweetheart for a new one. Bethat as it may, Lucius felt that night on good terms with himself andall the world. Phormio had consented to continue his loans--until hisdebtor could realize on "certain property." Pratinas had said thatDumnorix would shortly start with a band of gladiators for some localfestival at Anagnia, a little beyond Praeneste; and on the way back, ifnothing went amiss, the prearranged programme could be carried out.Some pretext must be found for keeping Drusus on his estate at thetime when Dumnorix would march past it, and that task could beconfided to Phaon, Lucius's freedman, a sly fox entirely after hispatron's own heart.
Cornelia, to whom the dinner-party at Favonius's house began as adreary enough tragedy, before long discovered that it was by no meansmore easy to suck undiluted sorrow than unmixed gladness out of life.It gratified her to imagine the rage and dismay of the young exquisitewhose couch was beside her chair,[93] when he should learn howcompletely he had been duped. Then, too, Lucius Ahenobarbus had avoluble flow of polite small talk, and he knew how to display hisaccomplishments to full advantage. He had a fair share of wit andhumour; and when he fancied that Cornelia was not impervious to hisadvances, he became more agreeable and more ardent. Once or twiceCornelia frightened herself by laughing without conscious forcing. Yetit was an immense relief to her when the banquet was over, and theguests--for Favonius had ordered that none should be given enough wineto be absolutely drunken--called for their sandals and litters andwent their ways.
[93] Women sat at Roman banquets, unless the company was of a questionable character.
"And you, O Adorable, Calypso, Circe, Nausicaa, Medea,--what shall Icall you?--you will not be angry if I call to see you to-morrow?" saidAhenobarbus, smiling as he parted from Cornelia.
"If you come," was her response, "I shall not perhaps order the slavesto pitch you out heels over head."
"Ah! That is a guarded assent, indeed," laughed Lucius, "but farewell,_pulcherrima!_"[94]
[94] Most beautiful.
Cornelia that night lay down and sobbed herself to sleep. Her motherhad congratulated her on her brilliant social success at thedinner-party, and had praised her for treating Lucius Ahenobarbus asshe had.
"You know, my dear," the worthy woman had concluded, "that since ithas seemed necessary to break off with Drusus, a marriage with Luciuswould be at once recommended by your father's will, and in many wayshighly desirable."
II
Only a very few days later Lucius Ahenobarbus received a messagebidding him come to see his father at the family palace on thePalatine. Lucius had almost cut himself clear from his relations. Hehad his own bachelor apartments, and Domitius had been glad to havehim out of the way. A sort of fiction existed that he was legallyunder _the patria potestas_,[95] and could only have debts and assetson his father's responsibility, but as a matter of fact his parentseldom paid him any attention; and only called on him to report athome when there was a public or family festival, or something veryimportant. Consequently he knew that matters serious were on foot,when he read in his father's note a request to visit Domitius's palaceas soon as convenient. Lucius was just starting, in his most spotlesstoga,--after a prolonged season with his hairdresser,--to pay amorning call on Cornelia, and so he was the more vexed and perturbed.
[95] Sons remained under the legal control of a father until the latter's death, unless the tie was dissolved by elaborate ceremonies.
"Curses on Cato,[96] my old uncle," he muttered, while he waited inthe splendid atrium of the house of the Ahenobarbi. "He has beenrating my father about my pranks with Gabinius and Laeca, and somethingunpleasant is in store for me."
[96] 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.
Domitius presently appeared, and his son soon noticed by the affableyet diplomatic manner of his father, and the gentle warmth of hisgreeting, that although there was something in the background, it wasnot necessarily very disagreeable.
"My dear Lucius," began Domitius, after the first civilities wereover, and the father and son had strolled into a handsomely appointedlibrary and taken seats on a deeply upholstered couch, "I have, Ithink, been an indulgent parent. But I must tell you, I have heardsome very bad stories of late about your manner of life."
"Oh!" replied Lucius, smiling. "As your worthy friend Cicero remarkedwhen defending young Caelius, 'those sorts of reproaches are regularlyheaped on every one whose person or appearance in youth is at allgentlemanly.'"
"I will thank you if you will not quote Cicero to me," replied theelder man, a little tartly. "He will soon be back from Cilicia, andwill be prodding and wearying us in the Senate quite enough, with hisrhetoric and sophistries. But I must be more precise. I have found outhow much you owe Phormio. I thought your dead uncle had left you amoderately large estate for a young man. Where has it gone to? Don'ttry to conceal it! It's been eaten up and drunk up--spent away forunguents, washed away in your baths, the fish-dealer and the catererhave made way with it, yes, and butchers and cooks, and greengrocersand perfume sellers, and poulterers--not to mention people morescandalous--have made off with it."
Lucius stretched himself out on the divan, caught at a thick, richlyembroidered pillow, tossed it over his head on to the floor, yawned,raised himself again upright, and said drawlingly:--
"Y-e-s, it's as you say. I find I spend every sesterce I have, and allI can borrow. But so long as Phormio is accommodating, I don't troublemyself very much about the debts."
"Lucius," said Domitius, sternly, "you are a graceless spendthrift. Ofcourse you must have the sport which all young blood needs. But yourextravagance goes beyond all bounds. I call myself a rich man, but toleave you half my fortune, dividing with your older brother Cnaeus, whois a far steadier and saner man than you, would be to assure myselfthat Greek parasites and low women would riot through that part of myestate in a twelvemonth. You must reform, Lucius; you must reform."
This was getting extremely disagreeable in spite of his e
xpectations,and the young man yawned a second time, then answered:--
"Well, I presume Uncle Cato has told you all kinds of stories; butthey aren't at all true. I really never had a great deal of money."
"Lucius," went on his father, "you are grown to manhood. It is timethat 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 thearmy. I have come to a determination. You must marry the woman I haveselected for you."
Ahenobarbus pricked up his ears. As a matter of fact, he had surmisedwhat was coming, but he had no intention of admitting anythingprematurely.
"Really, father," he said, "I hope you won't use your legal right andforce a wife on me. I have no desire to tie myself up to a decentmarried life."
"I hardly think," said Domitius, smiling, "that you will resist mywishes long. I have seen Lentulus Crus the consul-elect, and he and Iagree that since your mother's distant kinsman Quintus Drusus ofPraeneste is an unsuitable husband for Cornelia, Lentulus's niece, onaccount of his very dangerous political tendencies, no happieralliance could bind our families together than a marriage betweenCornelia and yourself."
Lucius yawned a third time and fell back on the couch.
"It's true," he ventured, "I have cared a good deal for Cornelia; andI'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 aretwo very different things. _Vina Opimia_ is best; but because onedrinks a _cyathus_[97] of that, why should he forego a good nil ofThasian or Caecuban? If I could have but one choice, give me plenty ofthe good, and I'll give up my few drops of the best."
[97] About one-twelfth pint.
"Come, come," said Domitius, a little impatiently, "you mustpositively reform. Besides, while appearances must be kept up, thereis no need for leading the life of a Stoic. You won't find Cornelia ahard companion. You have your pleasures and she hers, and you willlive harmoniously enough and not the least scandal."
And with this remark Domitius closed the matter, and Lucius wasactually delighted at the situation. What his father had said had beentrue enough; half, nay, nearly all, Rome lived in the manner Domitiushad guardedly proposed for his son and intended daughter-in-law.Marriage was becoming more and more a mere formality, something thatwas kept up as the ancient state Pagan worship was kept up by theremnants of old-time superstition, and as a cloak to hide a multitudeof sins. Fifty-nine years before, the consul Metellus Numidicus haddeclaimed, "Quirites, we would fain be free from all this annoyance(of marriage); but since nature has so brought it about that it isneither possible to live pleasantly with our wives nor by any means tolive (as a race) without them, we ought to consider the welfare of thefuture rather than the mere passing pleasure of the present." And eversince that day Romans had been striving desperately to make themarried state as endurable as possible; usually by reducing theimportance of lawful wedlock to a minimum.
Of course the announcement of the informal betrothal was soon spreadover Rome. The contracting parties were in the very highest life, andeverybody declared that the whole affair was a political deal betweenLentulus Crus and Domitius. It was commonly reported, too, howCornelia had broken with Drusus, and every one remarked that if theyoung man had cared to enforce her father's will in the courts, hisclaim to her hand and fortune would be valid unless--and here mostpeople exchanged sly winks, for they knew the power of Domitius andLentulus Crus over a jury.
And how had Cornelia borne it--she at whom Herennia had stared inamazement, when that "dear friend" discovered the friendship the otherwas displaying to Lucius Ahenobarbus? Cornelia had received theannouncement very quietly, one might almost say resignedly. She hadone great hope and consolation to support her. They would not forceher to marry Lucius Ahenobarbus until Drusus was dead or had reachedthe age of five-and-twenty. The marriage formula with Ahenobarbus onceuttered, while Quintus lived, and by no possibility, save by an openspoliation that would have stirred even calloused Rome, could Luciustouch a sesterce of his intended victim's property. Cornelia's hopenow, strangely enough, was in the man she regarded as the mostconsummate villain in the world, Pratinas. Ahenobarbus might have hisdebts paid by his father, and forego risk and crime if he did notabsolutely need Drusus's fortune; but Pratinas, she knew, must haveplanned to secure rich pickings of his own, and if Ahenobarbus marriedpermanently, all these were lost; and the Greeks never turned back orlet another turn back, when there was a fortune before them. It was afearful sort of confidence. Drusus had been warned promptly by Agias.Old Mamercus had straightway taken every precaution, and forced hisfoster son to put himself in a sort of custody, which was sufficientlygalling, in addition to the ever present sense of personal danger. Thevilla at Praeneste was guarded quietly by several armed slaves andpeasants; not a morsel or drop passed Drusus's lips that had not beentested and tasted by a trusty dependent. The young man was not to goto Rome, despite his infinite yearning to see Cornelia, for everyopportunity would be given in the dark city streets for an assassin.In fact, Drusus was virtually a prisoner in his own estates, for onlythere could he feel reasonably safe from attack.
All these precautions Cornelia knew, for Agias was a master atsmuggling letters in and out. She had told Drusus frankly all that hadpassed, and how that she was acting as she did only for his sake. Sheasked him to trust her, and he wrote back that no doubt of herfidelity to him had crossed his mind; he was not worthy of such loveas she had for him; it did not matter very much if Ahenobarbus didkill him, except that it would give her new grief and pain, and thethought of that he could not bear. Cornelia had replied that if Drususwas murdered, she was woman enough and Roman enough to stab LuciusAhenobarbus on their marriage night, and then plunge the dagger intoher own breast. And there the fearful matter had rested; Corneliasmiled by day, and dazzled all she met by her vivacity, and heraggressive queenliness; and by night cried with tearless sobs, whichcame out of the depths of her heart. And all the time she waited forAgias to foil the plot, and assure Drusus of his life. Let Quintusonce be safe, and then--how could she resist the irresistible pressurethat would be brought to bear to force her into a hated marriage,which Ahenobarbus--balked though he might be of a fortune--would nolonger care to defer? And when Cornelia thought of this, and when shewas alone, she would open a little casket, of which no other had thekey, and touch the ivory-carved hilt of a small damascened knife. Theblade was very sharp; and there was a sticky gum all along theedge,--deadly poison; only a very slight scratch put one beyond aid ofphysician.
The bitterest cup of all was the attitude she felt forced to assumetoward Lucius Ahenobarbus. There were limits of familiarity andsimulated affection beyond which she could not drive herself to go.Lucius was with her at all hours and in all places. The more she sawof him the more she abhorred his effeminate sensuality and lack ofalmost every quality that made life worth the living. But shemust--she must learn the plot against Drusus, and precisely how andwhen the trap was to be sprung. And in a measure, at least so far asLucius was concerned, she succeeded. By continually and openlyreviling Quintus, by professing to doubt the legality of a marriagecontracted against the terms of her father's will, by all butexpressing the wish that her late lover were out of harm's way, shewon her point. In a fit of half-drunken confidence Ahenobarbus assuredher that she would not be troubled by Drusus for long; that he wouldsoon be unable to annoy her. And then came a great disappointment.When Cornelia asked--and how much the request cost her, only sheherself knew--to be let into the plot, Lucius owned that he had leftthe details in the hands of Pratinas, and did not himself know justhow or when the blow was to fall. In Pratinas--whom Cornelia met veryseldom--she met with a sphinx, ever smiling, ever gracious, but who,as if regretting the burst of confidence he had allowed Valeria, kepthimself closed to the insinuations and half-questions of every oneelse. The truth was, the lanista Dumnorix was unwilling to do his partof the business until the festival at Anagnia brought him and his bandthrough Praeneste, and this festiva
l had been postponed. Consequently,the projected murder had been postponed a few days also. Agias hadtried to penetrate into the secrets of Pratinas, but found thatjudicious intriguer had, as a rule, carefully covered his tracks. Hespent a good deal of time and money, which Cornelia gave him, tryingto corrupt some of the gladiators of Dumnorix's band and get at theintentions of their master; but he was not able to find that any ofthese wretches, who took his gold greedily enough, really knew in theleast 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 worthyphilosopher often gave such contradictory accounts of what he hadoverheard in Valeria's boudoir, that Agias was at his wit's end whenand where to begin.
So passed the rest of the month since Cornelia had been brought fromPraeneste to Rome.
III
Cornelia began to grow sick at heart. The conviction was stealing overher that she was the victim of a cruel destiny, and it was useless tofight against fate. She had made sacrifices for Drusus's sake that hadcost her infinitely. All Rome said that Cornelia returned the love ofLucius Ahenobarbus. And with it all, she knew that she had notsucceeded in discovering the real plot of Pratinas, and could notthwart it. She knew that nearly every one placed her, if actually notas vicious as the rest, at least in the same coterie with Clodia, andthe wife of Lentulus Spinther the younger Metella, and only a gradebetter than such a woman as Arbuscula, the reigning actress of theday. There was no defence to offer to the world. Did she not go withher mother to the gay gathering, in the gardens by the Tiber? Was shenot waited on by half the fashionable young aristocrats of Rome? Wasshe not affianced to a man who was notoriously a leader of what mightto-day be called the "fast set" of the capital? And from Drusus, poorfellow, she gained not the least consolation. That he loved her as sheloved him, she had never cause to doubt. But in his self-renunciationhe gave her advice that sprang out of his own sorrow and pessimism. Itwas no use, ran his letters, for a woman like her to try and battleagainst the evident decrees of Fortune. He was a man, and must fighthis battle or die his death bravely; but she was not called on forthis. There was no reason why she should not really enjoy herself, inthe way most of the world thought she was enjoying herself. She hadbetter wed Lucius Ahenobarbus, and stoop to the inevitable. Herhusband could go his way and she go hers, and none would complain.Perhaps the Epicureans were right,--this life was all, and it was bestto suck from it all the sweets one might, and not be disturbed bypricks of conscience. Drusus and Cornelia were not lovers of a modernromance, to entertain fantastic ideas of love and duty, to throwthemselves away for a fancy, or tie themselves with vows whichmilitated against almost every worldly advantage. They were bothRomans, and by that we mean eminently practical persons, faithful toone another, pure and noble in their affections, but habituated tolook a situation in the face and accept the plain consequences. Inthis spirit Drusus had advised as he did, and Cornelia becamediscouraged accordingly. Her reason told her to submit to theinevitable. Her heart cried out against it. And so she continued tofinger the hilt of the little dagger, and look at its keenpoison-smeared edge.
But one day at the end of this dreary period Agias appeared before hismistress with a smiling face.
"Don't raise high hopes, my lady, but trust me. I have struck a paththat I'm sure Pratinas will wish I'd never travelled." And that wasall he would say, but laid his finger on his lips as though it was agreat secret. When he was gone, for Cornelia the sun shone brighter,and the tinkling of the water in the fountain in the peristyliumsounded sweeter than before. After all, there had come a gleam ofhope.
Cornelia needed the encouragement. That same day when Herennia calledto see her, that excellent young lady--for not the least reason in theworld--had been full of stories of poisoning and murders, how someyears 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 beenput in a bit of bread of which the victim partook. The stories wereold ones and perhaps nothing more than second-hand scandal, but theywere enough to make poor Cornelia miserable; so she was doublyrejoiced when Agias that evening pressed his lips again and smiled andsaid briefly: "All is going well. We shall have the root of the matterin a few days."
Agias had actually come upon what he was right in considering a greatpiece of good fortune. He had easily found the tenement in the Suburawhere Pratinas lodged, but to learn anything there that would beuseful was a far more difficult affair. He had hung around the place,however, as much as he dared, making his headquarters at a tavernconveniently near, and tried to learn Pratinas's habits, and whetherhe ever took any visitors home with him. All this came to littlepurpose till one morning he observed an old Ethiop, who was tugging aheavy provision basket, stagger up the street, through the nondescriptcrowd. The old slave was being assailed by a mob of street gamins andlow pedlers who saw in the contents of the hamper so much fairplunder. These vagabonds had just thrown the Ethiop down into the mud,and were about to divide their booty, when Agias, acting on a generousimpulse, rushed out from the tavern to the rescue. Nimble, for his agepowerful, and armed with a stout staff which he had caught up in thewine-shop to aid him, the young Greek won an easy victory overcowardly antagonists, put all the plunderers to flight, and lifted theold slave out of the mire. The Ethiop was profuse in his thanks.
"And whose slave are you?" demanded Agias, well pleased to be out ofthe adventure.
"I'm Sesostris, servant of Pratinas the Greek."
Agias pricked up his ears. "And you live--"
"In the top story of this tenement;" and Sesostris tried to pick upthe hamper.
"Oh!" laughed his rescuer, "you must let me save you that trouble. Iwill carry up the basket. Your master is a brute to pile on suchloads."
Sesostris again fawned his gratitude, and Agias, with quickened witsand eyes alert, toiled up the dark stairway, and found himself at thetop of the building. He had "entered the enemy's country." The Ethiopmight not have been open to bribes, but he might be unlocked throughfriendship, and Agias never needed all his senses more than now. Theyhad reached the topmost flight of stairs, and Sesostris had stopped asif embarrassed whether to invite his deliverer in to enjoy somehospitality, or say him farewell. Then of a sudden from behind theclosed door came a clear, sweet, girlish voice, singing, in Greek:--
"O Aitne, mother mine: A grotto fair Scooped in the rocks have I, and there I keep All that in dreams man pictures! Treasured there Are multitudes of she-goats and of sheep, Swathed in whose wool from top to toe I sleep."
It was an idyl of Theocritus, very well known by Agias, and withoutthe least hesitation he took up the strain, and continued:--
"The fire boils my pot; with oak or beech Is piled,--dry beech logs when the snow lies deep. And storm and sunshine, I disdain them each As toothless sires a nut, when broth is in their reach."[98]
[98] Calverly's translation.
Agias paused. There was a silence, then a giggle behind the door, andit half opened, and out peered the plump and rosy face of the younggirl we have heard Pratinas salute as his niece, Artemisia. The momentshe caught sight of the rather manly form of Agias, the door startedto close with a slam, but the latter thrust out his foot, blocked thedoor, and forced an entrance.
"_Eleleu!_" cried Agias, pushing into a small but neatly furnishedroom. "What have we here? Do the muses sing in Subura? Has Sapphobrought hither her college of poetesses from Lesbos?"
"_Ai!_" exclaimed Artemisia, drawing back, "who are you? You'redreadfully rude. I never saw you before."
"Nor I you;" replied Agias, in capital good humour, "but that is noreason 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 theevil eye. I'm neither Chaldean astrologer, nor Etruscan soothsayer.Come, tell me who you are, and whom you belong to?"
Artemisia did no
t have the least idea what to say. Agias, partlythrough youthful love of adventure, partly because he felt that he wasplaying now for very high stakes and must risk a good deal, had thrownhimself on the divan, and was holding Artemisia captive under hiskeen, genial eyes. She grew redder in face than before, began tospeak, then broke off with more confused blushes.
"She means to say," finally ventured Sesostris, "that she isArtemisia, the niece of Pratinas."
"The niece of Pratinas!" exclaimed Agias, settling himself upon thecushions in a manner that indicated his intention to make a prolongedstay; "and does Pratinas keep his pretty niece shut up in a gloomytenement, when she has the voice of one of the Graces, and more thantheir share of beauty! Shame on him; I thought he had better sensethan that!"
"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?"
"That I will not," replied Agias, firmly; and he drew from the hampera baker's bun, and began to munch it, as though laying in provisionfor a lengthy stay.
Artemisia and Sesostris exchanged glances of dismay.
"What _shall_ I do?" said the girl to the Ethiop in a very audiblewhisper.
"Sing," interrupted Agias. "Let me hear the rest of the Theocritus."
"I don't like to sing those songs," objected Artemisia. "Pratinasmakes me, I don't know why."
"Well," said Agias, smiling, "I wouldn't for the-world make you singagainst your will. Suppose you tell me about yourself. Tell me whenyour uncle is away, and when I may come and see you again."
"He's away nearly all the time," said Artemisia, very incautiously."But _who are_ you? Why do you want to come and see me?"
"Why do I want to look at a flower? Why do I want to hear thenightingale sing? Why do I like a cup of good wine?" laughed Agias."Then, fair mistress, you may look for my answer when _you_ haveanswered all of these questions of mine."
"I don't see what you mean," said poor Artemisia, looking dreadfullypuzzled.
"I mean," exclaimed the other, "what Sappho meant of the bride,--
'She like an apple turned red; which reddens far up on the tree-top:-- Upon the topmost of boughs,--the gatherers they have quite missed it. Yes, they saw it indeed; but too high to dare try to pluck it.'
Only I, if you don't greatly mind, will be the bold tree-climber andpluck the apple."
"But I do mind," cried Artemisia, all blushes, and springing a littleback. Old Sesostris looked alarmed.
"You--you mean the girl no ill?" he faltered.
Agias looked from the innocent little thing over to the Ethiop,snapped his finger, and replied:--
"Ill? I am not a human wolf, making pretty objects like this my prey!"Then, choosing his moment carefully, by a quick turn he confrontedSesostris sternly, and almost thundered: "_You_ speak of my doing illto this maiden? You speak--the slave of Pratinas, who is the leader inevery vice and wild prank in Rome! Has the slave as well as the masterlearned to play the hypocrite? Do you want to be tortured intoconfessing your part in all your master's crimes when the hour ofreckoning comes and he is brought to justice. _A! A!_" he went on,seeing that Sesostris was rolling the whites of his eyes, and wastrembling in every limb, "you know for a certainty how and whenPratinas is to have Quintus Drusus killed! Don't deny it. You willsoon be in the meshes. Don't hope to escape. If murder comes to Drusushe may perish, but he has friends who will fearfully avenge hisdeath."
"Mercy! Mercy!" howled the Ethiop, falling on his knees and clutchingat the young Greek's robe, "I know very little of the plot. I onlyknow--"
"Don't equivocate," thundered Agias. "If I had known the kind of manyou were, I would hardly have saved you from those street ruffians.You don't deserve to live. Well, the crows will soon have you! YouEgyptians believe in a judgment of the dead; what defence can you makebefore the court of Osiris[99] for being privy to a foul murder?You'll come back to earth as a fly, or a toad, or a dung-beetle, topay the penalty for your sins."
[99] The Egyptian judge of the dead.
"Mercy," whined Sesostris, who was in a paroxysm of fright. "Indeed Iam innocent! I am only a poor slave! I can't help knowing whatPratinas is doing; but how can I prevent him? Don't look at me so! Iam innocent--innocent!"
"I can scarce believe you," said Agias, affecting great reluctance toshow any leniency. "Doubtless you are steeped in blood. Still, you maysave yourself this once. Remember, you are known, and the plans ofPratinas against Drusus are partly known. We know about Dumnorix, andLucius Ahenobarbus, and--"
"Oh!" cried Sesostris, as though a hot iron had touched him, "I willfind out everything, and tell you. Indeed I will. Only do not send meto the rack or crucify me if my master's plans go astray!"
"Well," said Agias, still simulating hesitancy, "I will report to mysuperiors. Perhaps you are not a willing accomplice of your master. Inthat case, if he is apprehended, your life will doubtless be spared.But we must thwart his plot before it can be carried out. This youmust aid us to do. When will Dumnorix start for Praeneste?"
Again Sesostris quailed. "I don't know," he faltered, "there has beena postponement. There was a plan that if Drusus came to the city hewas to be lured outside the Esquiline gate, as if going to some villa,and murdered in the sand-pits, as have been many people."
"But this plan has been given up? Speak the truth!" sharply demandedAgias.
"Yes; for Drusus will not stir from Praeneste. So there the scheme mustbe executed, as originally arranged."
"And Dumnorix will go soon?"
"I think in a few days. I will find out."
"As you love your own life do so! I will call on each day at thishour. If Pratinas is at home, leave some bright garment outside nearthe door, that I may not stumble on him. Deceive or betray me, and mymasters will take a terrible revenge on you; for you haven't the leastidea what is the power of the men Pratinas has for enemies."
Agias turned to depart. Then to Artemisia:--
"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 seeArtemisia."
Agias was descending the stairs, when Sesostris called him back with awhisper.
"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 havea fancy to the girl?"
"Certainly I have eyes for her face, and ears for her sweet littlevoice," said Agias, smiling.
"Then listen," went on the Ethiop; "I care for the dear more thananything else in the world. She said she was Pratinas's niece. Itisn't true. She is a slave-girl he picked up when very little atDelos,[100] 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 onmoney, that he saw she would fetch a great price when grown; and sellher he will. He still pretends to call her his niece; but that won'tbe for long. He is teaching her to sing, to add to her value. _A!_ Butmy old heart is almost breaking for her sake. _Mu, mu!_" and Sesostrispuffed his groans through his nostrils. "Think of it! He has an ideato sell her to that rich Roman, Lucius Calatinus--and then I don'tdare hint what will be her fate."
[100] At this period the great slave emporium of the world.
"Calatinus!" hissed Agias, concentrating volumes of scorn into a word.
"You know him! You hate him!" cried Sesostris. "Then by Ammon-Ra, byIsis, by every god in whom you believe, save my darling from worsethan death! Do that, and I will die for you!"
Sesostris's emotion was too genuine to be a mere trap for ensnaringhis visitor; and Agias in turn was stirred.
"Old man," he exclaimed, seizing the other's hand, "you and I havesuffered much from evil masters. Thank the gods, I am now serving oneI love--albeit unfortunate enough! But we have a common right topunish the wrongdoers, and earn a little bit of happiness forourselves. Come, now! If Artemisia is a slave, she is in no wise aboveme. Let me save Drusus from Pratinas, and I pledge my word that I willsave Artem
isia from him and his nefarious schemes,--yes, and you, too.If Artemisia likes me, why then there will be perhaps more to add tothe story. Come--I am your friend, and you, mine."
Sesostris wrung the other's hand. The honest servant was moved toomuch to speak. His heart and soul had been bound up in Artemisia.
"May your _Ka_[101] stand before Osiris justified!" he choked. "I havebeen privy to many a dark action, until I used to try to forget theday when I must answer to the Judge of the Dead for every deed doneand word spoken. But I could not stifle my fear for the only dearthing in the world."
[101] The spiritual double which belonged to every man according to the Egyptian ideas.
Agias went away in a happy frame of mind. He had every confidence thatSesostris would worm out of Pratinas the exact details of the plot,and put the conspirators at the mercy of Drusus and Mamercus.
* * * * *
And Agias had felt there was good reason to rejoice in his discoveryin more ways than one. Especially was he conscious that there were nolips as red and as merry, no cheeks as rosy, no eyes as dancing, nochatter as sweet, as those of Artemisia. And what is more, he rejoicedto believe that that young lady was not half so shy of him as atfirst, and was as anxious to see him as he to see her. Thanks to duewarnings and precautions, Agias never stumbled on Pratinas, when thelatter was at his lodgings. The time he dared to stay was all tooshort for Artemisia. She was always telling how lonesome she was withonly old Sesostris for company, before she knew Agias. Once when thelatter was late in his daily visit, he was delighted to find scribbledon the wall, "Artemisia to her Agias: you are real mean." Agias hatedto make her erase it lest it fall under Pratinas's eagle eye.
But still Sesostris had nothing to tell about the plot against Drusus.Some days passed. Agias began to grow uneasy. Sesostris hadrepresented that he was conversant with everything his master had onfoot; but Pratinas might have been more discreet than to unfold allhis affairs, even before his servant; and then, too, there was alwaysthe possibility that Sesostris was playing fast and loose, and aboutto betray Agias to his master. So the latter grew disquieted, andfound it a little hard to preserve the character of cheerful mysterywhich he simulated to Cornelia. The long-sought information came at atime when he was really off his guard. Agias had been visitingArtemisia. Sesostris as well as Pratinas had been out; the two youngpeople were amusing themselves trying to teach a pet magpie to speak,when the Ethiop rushed into the room, all in a tremble with anxiousexcitement.
"_A! A!_" he was ejaculating. "Up, speed, don't delay! There's murderafoot!"
Agias let the bird slip from his hands, and never noticed that itfluttered on its clipped wings around the room, to Artemisia'sinfinite dismay.
"What? Is the plot hatched?"
"Yes, yes," puffed Sesostris, great beads of perspiration on hishonest face. "I was attending Pratinas when he met Lucius Ahenobarbusin the Forum. They veiled their talk, but I readily caught its drift.Dumnorix went yesterday with the pick of his band to Anagnia for somegames. To-morrow he will return through Praeneste, and the deed will bedone. Phaon, Ahenobarbus's freedman, has started already for Praenesteto spy out the ground and be ready to direct Dumnorix where, when, andhow to find Drusus. Phaon has been spying at Praeneste, and is thedangerous man!"
"He has gone?" demanded Agias.
"Gone, early this morning!"
"Then,--the gods reward you for your news,--I am gone too!"
And without another word to Artemisia or the old slave, Agias hadrushed out into the street. He had a double game to play--to preventPhaon from ever reaching Praeneste, and then get such help to Drusus aswould enable him to beat off Dumnorix and his gang. For Agias feltcertain that the hard-hitting Gaul would execute his part of thebargain, whether he met Phaon or not, and afterward look into theconsequences of what--unmitigated by the freedman's _finesse_--wouldtake the form of an open clumsy murder. But Phaon had started thatmorning; and it was now well into the afternoon. Time was dangerouslyscanty. Cornelia he felt he should inform; but she could do nothingreally to help him. He turned his steps toward the Forum and theAtrium Vestae. He had some difficulty in inducing the porter to summonFabia, to meet in personal interview a mere slave, but a gratuity wonthe point; and a minute later he was relating the whole story and thepresent situation of Drusus to Fabia, with a sincere directness thatcarried conviction with it. She had known that Drusus had enemies; butnow her whole strong nature was stirred at the sense of her nephew'simminent peril.
"If you were a freeman, Agias," were her words, "and could givewitness as such, Pratinas and Ahenobarbus--high as the latteris--should know that my influence at the law outweighs theirs. Butthey shall be thwarted. I will go to Marcellus the consul, and demandthat troops be started to Praeneste to-night. But you must go afterPhaon."
"You will send word to Cornelia?" requested Agias.
"Yes," said Fabia, "but not now; it is useless. Here is an order onGallus, who keeps a livery-stable[102] by the Porta Esquilina. He willgive you my new white Numidian, that I keep with him. Ride as you havenever ridden before. And here is money. Twenty gold philippi in thisbag. Bribe, do anything. Only save Drusus! Now go!"
[102] Such establishments were common near the gates, and the Vestals often had their horses at such places.
"Farewell, lady," cried Agias, "may I redeem the debt of gratitude Iowe you!"
Fabia stood looking after him, as he hastened out from the quietatrium into the busy street. Little Livia had cuddled up beside heraunt.
"Oh, Livia," said Fabia, "I feel as though it were of no use to livegood and pure in this world! Who knows what trouble may come to mefrom this day's doings? And why should they plot against yourbrother's dear life? But I mustn't talk so." And she called for herattendants to escort her abroad.
A Friend of Cæsar: A Tale of the Fall of the Roman Republic. Time, 50-47 B.C. Page 8