Chapter XV
The Seventh of January
I
The rapid march of events that week had taken Drusus out of himself,and made him forgetful of personal consequences; but it sobered himwhen he heard Curio and Caelius, his associates, telling Balbus wheretheir wills would be found deposited if anything calamitous were tobefall them. After all, life was very sweet to the young Livian. Hecould not at heart desire to drift off into nothingness--to stopbreathing, thinking, feeling. And for the last time he reviewed hisposition; told himself that it was not an unworthy cause for which hewas contending; that it was not treason, but patriotism, to wish tooverthrow the great oligarchy of noble families, who by theirfederated influence had pulled the wires to every electoral assembly,so that hardly a man not of their own coterie had been elected to highoffice for many a long year; while the officials themselves had grownfull and wanton on the revenues wrung from the score of unfortunateprovinces.
The feeling against the Caesarians was very bitter in the city. Caesarhad always been the friend and darling of the populace; but, now thathis star seemed setting, hardly a voice was raised, save to cry up thepatriotism and determination of the consuls and Pompeius Magnus.Soldiers of the latter's legions were everywhere. The Senate was toconvene the afternoon of the seventh, in the Curia of Pompeius, in theCampus Martius. Lentulus Crus was dragging forth every obscuresenator, every retired politician, whose feet almost touched thegrave, to swell his majority. All knew that the tribunes' vetoes wereto be set aside, and arbitrary power decreed to the consuls. Drususbegan to realize that the personal peril was pressing.
"Won't his head look pretty for the crows to pick at?" commentedMarcus Laeca to a friend, as the two swept past Drusus on the street.The Livian heard the loudly muttered words and trembled. It was easyto laud the Decii who calmly sacrificed their lives for the Republic,and many another martyr to patriotism; it was quite another thing tofeel the mortal fear of death coursing in one's veins, to reflect thatsoon perhaps the dogs might be tearing this body which guarded thatstrange thing one calls self; to reflect that all which soon will beleft of one is a bleaching skull, fixed high in some public place, atwhich the heartless mob would point and gibber, saying, "That is thehead of Quintus Livius Drusus, the rebel!"
Drusus wandered on--on to the only place in Rome where he could gainthe moral courage to carry him undaunted through that which was beforehim--to the Atrium of Vesta. He entered the house of the Vestals andsent for his aunt. Fabia came quickly enough, for her heart had beenwith her nephew all these days that tried men's souls. The noble womanput her arms around the youth--for he was still hardly more--andpressed him to her breast.
"Aunt Fabia," said Drusus, growing very weak and pale, now that hefelt her warm, loving caress, "do you know that in two or three daysyou will have as nephew a proscribed insurgent, perhaps with a priceon his head, who perhaps is speedily to die by the executioner, likethe most ignoble felon?"
"Yes," said Fabia, also very pale, yet smiling with a sweet, gravesmile--the smile of a goddess who grieves at the miseries of mortalmen, yet with divine omniscience glances beyond, and sees thehappiness evolved from pain. "Yes, I have heard of all that is passingin the Senate. And I know, too, that my Quintus will prove himself aFabian and a Livian, to whom the right cause and the good of theRepublic are all--and the fear of shame and death is nothing." Andthen she sat down with him upon a couch, and took his head in her lap,and stroked him as if she were his mother. "Ah! my Quintus," she said,"you are still very young, and it is easy for one like you to enlistwith all your ardour in a cause that seems righteous; yes, and in theheat of the moment to make any sacrifice for it; but it is not so easyfor you or any other man calmly to face shame and annihilation, whenthe actual shadow of danger can be seen creeping up hour by hour. Iknow that neither you nor many another man wise and good believes thatthere are any gods. And I--I am only a silly old woman, with little orno wisdom and wit--"
"Not silly and not old, carissima!" interrupted Drusus, smiling at herself-depreciation.
"We won't argue," said Fabia, in a bit lighter vein. "But--as I wouldsay--I believe in gods, and that they order all things well."
"Why, then," protested the young man, "do we suffer wrong or grief? Ifgods there are, they are indifferent; or, far worse, malevolent, wholove to work us woe."
Again Fabia shook her head.
"If we were gods," said she, "we would all be wise, and could see thegood to come out of every seeming evil. There! I am, as I said, sillyand old, and little enough comfort can words of mine bring a brightyoung man whose head is crammed with all the learned lore of theschools of Athens. But know this, Quintus, so long as I live, youshall live in my heart--living or dead though you be. And believe me,the pleasure of life is but a very little thing; it is sweet, but howquickly it passes! And the curses or praises of men--these, too, onlya few mouldy rolls of books keep for decay! What profits it toMiltiades this hour, that a few marks on a papyrus sheet ascribe tohim renown; or how much is the joy of Sextus Tarquinius darkenedbecause a group of other marks cast reproach upon his name? If so bedeath is a sleep, how much better to feel at the end, 'I die, but Idie self-approved, and justified by self!' And if death is not all asleep; if, as Socrates tells us, there are hopes that we but pass froma base life to another with less of dross, then how do pleasures andglories, griefs and dishonours, of this present life touch upon a manwhose happiness or woe will be found all within?"
And so the good woman talked, giving to Drusus her own pure faith andhope and courage; and when the intellectual philosopher within himrevolted at some of her simple premises and guileless sophistries,against his will he was persuaded by them, and was fain to own tohimself that the heart of a good woman is past finding out; that itsimpulses are more genuine, its intuitions truer, its promptings surer,than all the fine-spun intellectuality of the most subtlemetaphysician. When at last Drusus rose to leave his aunt, his facewas glowing with a healthy colour, his step was elastic, his voiceresonant with a noble courage. Fabia embraced him again and again."Remember, whatever befalls," were her parting words, "I shall stilllove you." And when Drusus went out of the house he saw the dignifiedfigure of the Vestal gazing after him. A few minutes later he passedno less a personage than the consular Lucius Domitius on his way tosome political conference. He did not know what that dignitarymuttered as he swept past in spotless toga, but the gloomy ferocity ofhis brow needed no interpreter. Drusus, however, never for a momentgave himself disquietude. He was fortified for the best and the worst,not by any dumb resignation, not by any cant of philosophy, but by aninward monitor which told him that some power in some way would leadhim forth out of all dangers in a manner whereof man could neither asknor think.
* * * * *
On the sixth of January the debate, as already said, drew toward itsend. All measures of conciliation had been voted down; the crisis wasclose at hand. On the seventh, after his interview with Fabia, Drususwent back to his own lodgings, made a few revisions in his will, andin the presence of two or three friends declared Cappadoxmanumitted,[143] lest he, by some chance, fall into the clutches of abrutal master. The young man next wrote a long letter to Cornelia forAgias to forward to Baiae, and put in it such hope as he could gleanfrom the dark words of the philosophers; that even if destruction nowovertook him, death perhaps did not end all; that perhaps they wouldmeet beyond the grave. Then he took leave of his weeping freedmen andslaves, and strolled out into the city, and wandered about the Forumand the Sacred Way, to enjoy, perchance, a last view of the sites thatwere to the Roman so dear. Then finally he turned toward the CampusMartius, and was strolling down under the long marble-paved colonnadeof the Portico of Pompeius. Lost in a deep reverie, he was forgetfulof all present events, until he was roused by a quick twitch at theelbow; he looked around and found Agias before him.
[143] _Manumissio inter amicos_ was less formal than the regular ceremony before the praetor.
"_
A!_ domine," cried the young Greek, "I have friends in the house ofLentulus. I have just been told by them that the consul has sworn thathe will begin to play Sulla this very day. Neither you, nor Antonius,Cassius, Curio, nor the other supporters of Caesar will be aliveto-night. Do not go into the Curia. Get away, quickly! Warn yourfriends, and leave Rome, or to-night you will all be strangled in theTullianum!"
The Tullianum! Drusus knew no other term to conjure up a like abode ofhorrors--the ancient prison of the city, a mere chamber sunk in theground, and beneath that a dungeon, accessible only by an opening inthe floor above--where the luckless Jugurtha had perished of cold andstarvation, and where Lentulus Sura, Cethegus, and the otherlieutenants of Catilina had been garroted, in defiance of all theirlegal rights, by the arbitrary decree of a rancorous Senate! So atlast the danger had come! Drusus felt himself quiver at every fibre.He endured a sensation the like of which he had never felt before--oneof utter moral faintness. But he steadied himself quickly. Shame athis own recurring cowardice overmastered him. "I am an unworthyLivian, indeed," he muttered, not perhaps realizing that it is farmore heroic consciously to confront and receive the full terrors of aperil, and put them by, than to have them harmlessly roll off on someself-acting mental armour.
"Escape! There is yet time!" urged Agias, pulling his toga. Drususshook his head.
"Not until the Senate has set aside the veto of the tribunes," hereplied quietly.
"But the danger will then be imminent!"
"A good soldier does not leave his post, my excellent Agias," said theRoman, "until duty orders him away. Our duty is in the Senate until wecan by our presence and voice do no more. When that task is over, wego to Caesar as fast as horse may bear us; but not until then."
"Then I have warned you all in vain!" cried Agias.
"Not at all. You may still be of the greatest service. Arrange so thatwe can leave Rome the instant we quit the Curia."
"But if the lictors seize you before you get out of the building?"
"We can only take our chance. I think we shall be permitted to go out.I had intended to ride out of the city this evening if nothinghindered and the final vote had been passed. But now I see that cannotbe done. You have wit and cunning, Agias. Scheme, provide. We mustescape from Rome at the earliest moment consistent with our duty andhonour."
"I have it," said Agias, his face lighting up. "Come at once afterleaving the Curia, to the rear of the Temple of Mars.[144] I know oneor two of the temple servants, and they will give me the use of theirrooms. There I will have ready some slave dresses for a disguise, andjust across the AEmilian bridge I will have some fast horseswaiting--that is, if you can give me an order on your stables."
[144] The AEdes Martis of the Campus Martius.
Drusus took off his signet ring.
"Show that to Pausanias. He will honour every request you make, be itfor a million sesterces."
Agias bowed and was off. For the last time Drusus was tempted to callhim back and say that the flight would begin at once. But the nimbleGreek was already out of sight, and heroism became a necessity. Drususresolutely turned his steps toward the senate-house. Not having beenable to forecast the immediate moves of the enemy, he had not arrangedfor hurried flight; it was to be regretted, although he had known thaton that day the end of the crisis would come. He soon met Antonius,and imparted to him what he had just learned from Agias, and theprecautions taken.
Antonius shook his head, and remarked:--
"You ought not to go with me. Little enough can we who are tribunesdo; you have neither voice nor vote, and Lentulus is your personalfoe. So back, before it is too late. Let us shift for ourselves."
Drusus replied never a word, but simply took the tribune's arm andwalked the faster toward the Curia.
"I am a very young soldier," he said presently; "do not be angry if Iwish to show that I am not afraid of the whizzing arrows."
"Then, my friend, whatever befalls, so long as life is in my body,remember you have a brother in Marcus Antonius."
The two friends pressed one another's hands, and entered the CuriaPompeii. There in one of the foremost seats sat the Magnus,[145] thecentre of a great flock of adulators, who were basking in the sunshineof his favour. Yet Drusus, as he glanced over at the Imperator,thought that the great man looked harassed and worried--forced to bepartner in a scheme when he would cheerfully be absent. Fluttering intheir broad togas about the senate-house were Domitius, Cato, theMarcelli, and Scipio, busy whipping into line the few remainingwaverers. As Cato passed the tribune's bench, and saw the handful ofCaesarians gathered there, he cast a glance of indescribable malignityupon them, a glance that made Drusus shudder, and think again of thehorrors of the Tullianum.
[145] Pompeius was not allowed by law to attend sessions of the Senate (so long as he was proconsul of Spain) when held inside the old city limits; but the Curia which he himself built was outside the walls in the Campus Martius. This meeting seems to have been convened there especially that he might attend it.
"I know now how Cato looked," said he to Antonius, "when he denouncedthe Catilinarians and urged that they should be put to death withouttrial."
Antonius shrugged his shoulders, and replied:--
"Cato cannot forgive Caesar. When Caesar was consul, Cato interruptedhis speech, and Caesar had him haled off to prison. Marcus Cato neverforgives or forgets."
Curio, Caelius, and Quintus Cassius had entered the senate-house--theonly Caesarians present besides Antonius and his viator. The first twowent and took their seats in the body of the building, and Drususnoticed how their colleagues shrank away from them, refusing to sitnear the supporters of the Gallic proconsul.
"_Eho!_" remarked Antonius, his spirits rising as the crisis drew on."This is much like Catilina's days, to be sure! No one would sit withhim when he went into the Senate. However, I imagine that theseexcellent gentlemen will hardly find Caesar as easy to handle asCatilina."
Again Lentulus was in his curule chair, and again the solemn farce oftaking the auspices, preparatory to commencing the session, was gonethrough.
Then for the last time in that memorable series of debates Lentulusarose and addressed the Senate, storming, browbeating, threatening,and finally ending with these words, that brought everything to ahead:--
"Seeing then, Conscript Fathers, that Quintus Cassius and MarcusAntonius are using their tribunician office to aid Caius Caesar toperpetuate his tyranny, the consuls ask you to clothe the magistrateswith dictatorial power in order that the liberties of the Republic maynot be subverted!"
The liberties of the Republic! Liberty to plunder provinces! To bribe!To rob the treasury! To defraud! To violate the law of man and God! Torule the whole world so that a corrupt oligarchy might be aggrandized!Far, far had the nation of the older Claudii, Fabii, and Corneliifallen from that proud eminence when, a hundred years before,Polybius, contrasting the Romans with the degenerate Greeks, hadexclaimed, "A statesman of Hellas, with ten checking clerks and tenseals, ... cannot keep faith with a single talent; Romans, in theirmagistracies and embassies, handle great sums of money, and yet frompure respect of oath keep their faith intact."
But the words of selfish virulence and cant had been uttered, and upfrom the body of the house swelled a shout of approval, growing louderand louder every instant.
Then up rose Domitius, on his face the leer of a brutal triumph.
"Conscript Fathers," he said, "I call for a vote on the question ofmartial law. Have the Senate divide on the motion. 'Let the consuls,praetors, tribunes of the plebs, and men of consular rank see to itthat the Republic suffers no harm.'"
Another shout of applause rolled along the seats, fiercer and fiercer,and through it all a shower of curses and abusive epithets upon theCaesarians. All around Drusus seemed to be tossing and bellowing thebreakers of some vast ocean, an ocean of human forms and faces, thatwas about to dash upon him and overwhelm him, in mad furyirresistible. The din was louder and louder. The bronze casings on thewalls
rattled, the pediments and pavements seemed to vibrate; outside,the vast mob swarming around the Curia reëchoed the shout. "Down withCaesar!" "Down with the tribunes!" "_Io!_ Pompeius!"
It was all as some wild distorted dream passing before Drusus's eyes.He could not bring himself to conceive the scene as otherwise. In asort of stupor he saw the senators swarming to the right of thebuilding, hastening to cast their votes in favour of Domitius'smotion. Only two men--under a storm of abuse and hootings, passed tothe left and went on record against the measure. These were Curio andCaelius; and they stood for some moments alone on the deserted side ofthe house, defiantly glaring at the raging Senate. Antonius andCassius contemptuously remained in their seats--for no magistratecould vote in the Senate.
It was done; it could not be undone. Not Caesar, but the Senate, haddecreed the end of the glorious Republic. Already, with hastyostentation, some senators were stepping outside the Curia, andreturning clad no longer in the toga of peace, but in a militarycloak[146] which a slave had been keeping close at hand in readiness.Already Cato was on his feet glaring at the Caesarian tribunes, anddemanding that first of all they be subjected to punishment forpersisting in their veto. The Senate was getting more boisterous eachminute. A tumult was like to break out, in which some deed of violencewould be committed, which would give the key-note to the wholesanguinary struggle impending. Yet in the face of the raging tempestMarcus Antonius arose and confronted the assembly. It raged, hooted,howled, cursed. He still remained standing. Cato tried to continue hisinvective. The tempest that he had done so much to raise drowned hisown voice, and he relapsed into his seat. But still Antonius stood hisground, quietly, with no attempt to shout down the raging Senate, assteadfastly as though a thousand threats were not buzzing around hisears. Drusus's heart went with his friend that instant. He had neverbeen in a battle, yet he realized that it was vastly more heroic tostand undaunted before this audience, than to walk into the bloodiestmelee without a tremor.
[146] _Sagum_.
Then of a sudden, like the interval between the recession of one waveand the advance of a second billow, came a moment of silence; and intothat silence Antonius broke, with a voice so strong, so piercing, soresonant, that the most envenomed oligarch checked his clamour to giveear.
"Hearken, ye senators of the Republic, ye false _patres_, ye fathersof the people who are no fathers! So far have we waited; we wait nomore! So much have we seen; we'll see no further! So much have weendured,--reproaches, repulses, deceits, insult, outrage, yes, for Isee it in the consul's eye, next do we suffer violence itself; butthat we will not tamely suffer. Ay! drive us from our seats, as MarcusCato bids you! Ay! strike our names from the Senate list, as Domitiuswill propose! Ay! hound your lictors, sir consul, after us, to laytheir rods across our backs! Ay! enforce your decree proclaimingmartial law! So have you acted before to give legal fiction to yourtyranny! But tell me this, senators, praetorii, consulars, and consuls,where will this mad violence of yours find end? Tiberius Gracchus youhave murdered. Caius Gracchus you have murdered. Marcus Drusus youhave murdered. Ten thousand good men has your creature Sulla murdered.Without trial, without defence, were the friends of Catilina murdered.And now will ye add one more deed of blood to those going before? Willye strike down an inviolate tribune, in Rome,--in the shadow of thevery Curia? Ah! days of the Decemvirs, when an evil Ten ruled over thestate--would that those days might return! Not ten tyrants but athousand oppress us now! Then despotism wore no cloak of patriotism orlegal right, but walked unmasked in all its blackness!
"Hearken, ye senators, and in the evil days to come, remember all Isay. Out of the seed which ye sow this hour come wars, civil wars;Roman against Roman, kinsman against kinsman, brother against brother!There comes impiety, violence, cruelty, bloodshed, anarchy! Therecomes the destruction of the old; there comes the birth, amid pain andanguish, of the new! Ye who grasp at money, at power, at high office;who trample on truth and right to serve your selfish ends; false,degenerate Romans,--one thing can wipe away your crimes--"
"What?" shouted Cato, across the senate-house; while Pompeius, who wasshifting uncomfortably in his seat, had turned very red.
"Blood!" cried back Antonius, carried away by the frenzy of his owninvective; then, shooting a lightning glance over the awe-struckSenate, he spoke as though gifted with some terrible propheticomniscience. "Pompeius Magnus, the day of your prosperity ispast--prepare ingloriously to die! Lentulus Crus, you, too, shall paythe forfeit of your crimes! Metellus Scipio, Marcus Cato, LuciusDomitius, within five years shall you all be dead--dead and withinfamy upon your names! Your blood, your blood shall wipe away yourfolly and your lust for power. Ye stay, we go. Ye stay to pass oncemore unvetoed the decree declaring Caesar and his friends enemies ofthe Republic; we go--go to endure our outlaw state. But we go toappeal from the unjust scales of your false Justice to the justersword of an impartial Mars, and may the Furies that haunt the lives oftyrants and shedders of innocent blood attend you--attend your personsso long as ye are doomed to live, and your memory so long as men shallhave power to heap on your names reproach!"
Drusus hardly knew that Antonius had so much as stopped, when he foundhis friend leading him out of the Curia.
Behind, all was still as they walked away toward the Temple of Mars.Then, as they proceeded a little distance, a great roar as of adistant storm-wind drifted out from the senate-house--so long hadAntonius held his audience spellbound.
"_Finitum est!_" said Curio, his eyes cast on the ground. "We haveseen, my friends, the last day of the Republic."
II
Behind the Temple of Mars the faithful Agias was ready with theslaves' dresses which were to serve as a simple disguise. Antonius andhis companions tossed off their cumbrous togas and put on the dark,coarse cloaks and slippers which were worn by slaves and people of thelower classes. These changes were quickly made, but valuable time waswasted while Antonius--who, as a bit of a dandy, wore his hair ratherlong[147]--underwent a few touches with the shears. It was nownecessary to get across the Tiber without being recognized, and oncefairly out of Rome the chances of a successful pursuit were not many.On leaving the friendly shelter of the Temple buildings, nothinguntoward was to be seen. The crowds rushing to and fro, from the Curiaand back, were too busy and excited to pay attention to a little groupof slaves, who carefully kept from intruding themselves into notice.Occasionally the roar and echo of applause and shouting came from thenow distant Curia, indicating that the Senate was still at its unholywork of voting wars and destructions. A short walk would bring themacross the Pons AEmilius, and there, in the shelter of one of thegroves of the new public gardens which Caesar had just been laying outon Janiculum, were waiting several of the fastest mounts which theactivity of Agias and the lavish expenditures of Pausanias had beenable to procure.
[147] Slaves were always close clipped.
The friends breathed more easily.
"I hardly think," said Quintus Cassius, "we shall be molested. Theconsuls cannot carry their mad hate so far."
They were close to the bridge. The way was lined with tall warehousesand grain storehouses,[148] the precursors of the modern "elevators."They could see the tawny Tiber water flashing between the stone archesof the bridge. The swarms of peasants and countrymen driving herds oflowing kine and bleating sheep toward the adjacent Forum Boariumseemed unsuspicious and inoffensive. A moment more and all Drusus'stremors and anxieties would have passed as harmless fantasy.
[148] _Horreae_.
Their feet were on the bridge. They could notice the wind sweepingthrough the tall cypresses in the gardens where waited the steeds thatwere to take them to safety. The friends quickened their pace. A cloudhad drifted across the sun; there was a moment's gloom. When the lightdanced back, Drusus caught Curio's arm with a start.
"Look!" The new sunbeams had glanced on the polished helmet of asoldier standing guard at the farther end of the bridge.
There was only an instant for hesitation.
"Le
ntulus has foreseen that we must try to escape by this way," saidCurio, seriously, but without panic. "We must go back at once, and tryto cross by the wooden bridge below or by some other means."
But a great herd of dirty silver-grey Etruscan cattle came over thecauseway, and to get ahead of them would have been impracticablewithout attracting the most unusual attention. It was now evidentenough that there was a considerable guard at the head of the bridge,and to make a rush and overpower it was impossible. The heavy-udderedcows and snorting, bellowing bulls dragged by with a slow ploddingthat almost drove Drusus frantic. They were over at last, and thefriends hastened after them, far more anxious to leave the bridge thanthey had been an instant before to set foot upon it. On they pressed,until as if by magic there stood across their path the twelve lictorsof one of the consuls, with upraised fasces. Behind the lictors was ahalf-century of soldiers in full armour led by their _optio_.[149]
[149] Adjutant, subordinate to a centurion.
"Sirs," announced the head lictor, "I am commanded by the consul,Lucius Lentulus Crus, to put you all under arrest for treason againstthe Republic. Spare yourselves the indignity of personal violence, byoffering no resistance."
To resist would indeed have been suicide. The friends had worn theirshort swords under their cloaks, but counting Agias they were onlysix, and the lictors were twelve, to say nothing of the soldiers, ofwhom there were thirty or more.
The ground seemed swaying before Drusus's eyes; in his ears was abuzzing; his thoughts came to him, thick, confused, yet through themall ran the vision of Cornelia, and the conviction that he was neverto see her again. He looked back. The soldiers at the head of thebridge had taken alarm and were marching down to complete the arrest.He looked before. The lictors, the troops, the stupid cattle and theirstolid drivers, and the great black-sided warehouses, casting theirgloomy shadow over the rippling river. Down stream; not a skiff seemedstirring. The water was plashing, dancing, glancing in the sunshine.Below the wooden bridge the spars of a huge merchantman were justcovering with canvas, as she stood away from her quay. Up stream (theviews were all compressed into the veriest moment)--with the currentcame working, or rather drifting, a heavy barge loaded with timber.Only two men, handling rude paddles, stood upon her deck. The bargewas about to pass under the very arch upon which stood the handful ofentrapped Caesarians. A word, a motion, and the last hope of escapewould have been comprehended by the enemy, and all would have beenlost. But in moments of extreme peril it is easy to make a glance fullof pregnancy. Antonius saw the face of his friend--saw and understood;and the other seemingly doomed men understood likewise. In an instantthe barge would pass under the bridge!
"Fellow," replied Antonius (the whole inspection of the situation,formation of the plot, and visual dialogue had really been so rapid asto make no long break after the lictor ceased speaking), "do you darethus to do what even the most profane and impious have never daredbefore? Will you lay hands on two inviolate tribunes of the plebs, andthose under their personal protection; and by your very act become a_sacer_--an outlaw devoted to the gods, whom it is a pious thing forany man to slay?"
"I have my orders, sir," replied the head lictor, menacingly. "And Iwould have you know that neither you nor Quintus Cassius are reckonedtribunes longer by the Senate; so by no such plea can you escapearrest."
"Tribunes no longer!" cried Antonius; "has tyranny progressed so farthat no magistrate can hold office after he ceases to humour theconsuls?"
"We waste time, sir," said the lictor, sternly. "Forward, men; seizeand bind them!"
But Antonius's brief parley had done its work. As the bow of the bargeshot under the bridge, Curio, with a single bound over the parapet,sprang on to its deck; after him leaped Quintus Cassius, and after himCaelius. Before Drusus could follow, however, the stern of the bargehad vanished under the archway. The lictors and soldiers had sprungforward, but a second had been lost by rushing to the eastern side ofthe bridge, where the barge had just disappeared from sight. Agias,Antonius, and Drusus were already standing on the western parapet. Thelictors and soldiers were on them in an instant. The blow of one ofthe fasces smote down Antonius, but he fell directly into the vesselbeneath--stunned but safe. A soldier caught Agias by the leg to draghim down. Drusus smote the man under the ear so that he fell without agroan; but Agias himself had been thrown from the parapet on to thebridge; the soldiers were thronging around. Drusus saw the naked steelof their swords flashing before his eyes; he knew that the barge wasslipping away in the current. It was a time of seconds, but of secondsexpanded for him into eternities. With one arm he dashed back alictor, with the other cast Agias--he never knew whence came thatstrength which enabled him to do the feat--over the stonework, andinto the arms of Curio in the receding boat. Then he himself leaped. Arude hand caught his cloak. It was torn from his back. A sword whiskedpast his head--he never learned how closely. He was in the air, sawthat the barge was getting away, and next he was chilled by a suddendash of water and Caelius was dragging him aboard; he had landed underthe very stern of the barge. Struggling in the water, weighed down bytheir armour, were several soldiers who had leaped after him and hadmissed their distance completely.
The young man clambered on to the rude vessel. Its crew (two simple,harmless peasants) were cowering among the lumber. Curio had seizedone of the paddles and was guiding the craft out into the middle ofthe current; for the soldiers were already running along the wharvesand preparing to fling their darts. The other men, who had just beenplucked out of the jaws of destruction, were all engaged in collectingtheir more or less scattered wits and trying to discover the next turnof calamity in store. Antonius--who, despite his fall, had come downupon a coil of rope and so escaped broken bones and seriousbruises--was the first to sense the great peril of even their presentsituation.
"In a few moments," he remarked, casting a glance down the river, "weshall be under the Pons Sublicius, and we shall either be easilystopped and taken, or crushed with darts as we pass by. You see theyare already signalling from the upper bridge to their guard at thelower. We shall drift down into their hands, and gain nothing by ourfirst escape."
"Anchor," suggested Cassius, who was an impulsive and ratherinconsiderate man. And he prepared to pitch overboard the heavymooring-stone.
"_Phui!_ You sheep," cried Curio, contemptuously, mincing no words atthat dread moment. "How long will it be before there will be tenboatloads of soldiers alongside? Can we beat off all Pompeius'slegions?"
Antonius caught up another paddle and passed it through a rower'sthong.
"Friends," he said, with that ready command which his military lifehad given him, "these soldiers are in armour and can run none tooswiftly. Once show them the back, and they must throw away their armsor give over the chase. It is madness to drift down upon the lowerbridge. We must turn across the river, risk the darts, and try to landon the farther bank. Take oars!"
There was but one remaining paddle. Drusus seized it and pushedagainst the water with so much force that the tough wood bent andcreaked, but did not snap. The unwieldy barge sluggishly answered thispowerful pressure, and under the stroke of the three oars began tohead diagonally across the current and move slowly toward the farthershore. The soldiers did not at once perceive the intent of this move.By their actions they showed that they had expected the barge to tryto slip through the Pons Sublicius, and so escape down the river. Theyhad run some little way along the south bank of the Tiber, toreenforce their comrades at the lower bridge, when they saw the newcourse taken by their expected prey. Much valuable time had thus beengained by the pursued, time which they needed sadly enough, for,despite their frantic rowing, their unwieldy craft would barely crawlacross the current.
Long before the barge was within landing distance of the northernbank, the soldiers who had been on guard at the head of the PonsAEmilius had regained their former station, and were running along theshore to cut off any attempt there to escape. Soon a whizzing javelindug into the plank at Drusus's fe
et, and a second rushed over Caelius'shead, and plashed into the water beyond the barge. Other soldiers onthe now receding southern bank were piling into a light skiff tosecond their comrades' efforts by a direct attack on the fugitives.
A third dart grazed Antonius's hair and buried its head in the pile oflumber. The tribune handed his oar to Caelius, and, deliberatelywresting the weapon from the timber, flung it back with so deadly anaim that one pursuing legionary went down, pierced through thebreastplate. The others recoiled for an instant, and no more javelinswere thrown, which was some slight gain for the pursued.
It seemed, however, that the contest could have only a single ending.The soldiers were running parallel and apace with the barge, which wasnow as close to the northern bank as was safe in view of the missiles.The Pons Sublicius was getting minute by minute nearer, and upon itcould be seen a considerable body of troops ready with darts andgrapnels to cut off the last hope of escape.
But Antonius never withdrew his eye from the line of darkweatherbeaten warehouses that stretched down to the river's edge onthe north bank just above the Pons Sublicius.
"Row," he exhorted his companions, "row! as life is dear! Row as neverbefore!"
And under the combined impulse of the three desperate men, even theheavy barge leaped forward and a little eddy of foaming waves began totrail behind her stern. Drusus had no time to ask of himself orAntonius the special object of this last burst of speed. He only knewthat he was flinging every pound of strength into the heavy handle ofhis oar, and that his life depended on making the broad blade pushback the water as rapidly as possible. Antonius, however, had had goodcause for his command. A searching scrutiny had revealed to him that asingle very long warehouse ran clear down to the river's edge, and somade it impossible to continue running along the bank. A pursuer mustdouble around the whole length of the building before continuing thechase of the barge. And for a small quay just beyond this warehouseAntonius headed his clumsy vessel. The soldiers continued their chaseup to the very walls of the warehouse, where they, of a sudden, foundthemselves stopped by an impenetrable barrier. They lost an instant ofvaluable time in trying to wade along the bank, where the channelshelved off rapidly, and, finding the attempt useless, dashed a volleyof their missiles after the barge. But the range was very long. Fewreached the vessel; none did damage. The soldiers disappeared behindthe warehouse, still running at a headlong pace. Before theyreappeared on the other side, Antonius had brought his craft to thequay. There was no time for mooring, and the instant the barge lostway the hard-pressed Caesarians were on shore. Another instant, and theclumsy vessel had been caught by the current, and swung out into thestream.
She had done her work. The pursued men broke into a dash for thenearest highway. The soldiers were close after them. But they hadflung away their javelins, and what with their heavy armour and thefatigue of running were quite as exhausted as the Caesarians, three ofwhom had been thoroughly winded by their desperate rowing. On the PonsSublicius, where a great crowd had gathered to watch the excitingchase, there was shouting and tumult. No doubt voices few enough wouldhave been raised for the Caesarians if they had been captured; but nowthat they bade fair to escape, the air was thick with gibes at thesoldiers, and cries of encouragement to the pursued. On the twoparties ran. Soon they were plunged in the tortuous, dirty lanes ofthe "Trans-Tiber" district, rushing at frantic speed past the shops ofdirty Jews and the taverns of noisy fishermen and sailors. Alreadynews of the chase had gone before them, and, as Drusus followed hisfriends under the half-arching shadows of the tall tenement houses,drunken pedlers and ribald women howled out their wishes of success,precisely as though they were in a race-course. Now the dirty streetswere left behind and the fatigued runners panted up the slopes of theJaniculum, toward the gardens of Caesar. They passed the little grovesacred to the Furies, and, even as for life he ran, Drusus recalledwith shame how over this very road to this very grove, had fled CaiusGracchus, the great tribune of the people, whom Drusus's own greatgrandfather, Marcus Livius Drusus, had hounded to his death; that daywhen all men encouraged him as he ran, but none would raise a hand toaid.
But now up from the bridge came the thunder of horses'hoofs,--cavalry, tearing at a furious gallop. Pompeius had evidentlyordered out a _turma_[150] of mounted men to chase down the runaways.More and more frantic the race--Drusus's tongue hung from his mouthlike a dog's. He flew past a running fountain, and was just desperateenough to wonder if it was safe to stop one instant and touch--hewould not ask to drink--one drop of the cool water. Fortunately theCaesarians were all active young men, of about equal physical powers,and they kept well together and encouraged one another, not byword--they had no breath for that--but by interchange of courage andsympathy from eye to eye. The heavy legionaries had given up thechase; it was the cavalry, now flying almost at their very heels, thaturged them to their final burst of speed.
[150] Squadron of 30 horse.
At last! Here were the gardens of Caesar, and close by the roadwayunder a spreading oak, their grooms holding them in readiness forinstant service, were six of the best specimens of horseflesh moneycould command.
None of the little party had breath left to speak a word. To flingthemselves into the saddles, to snatch the reins from the attendants'hands, to plunge the heels of their sandals, in lieu of spurs, intothe flanks of their already restless steeds,--these things were donein an instant, but none too soon. For, almost as the six riders turnedout upon the road to give head to their horses, the cavalry were uponthem. The foremost rider sent his lance over Curio's shoulder, grazingthe skin and starting blood; a second struck with his short sword atCaelius's steed, but the horse shied, and before the blow could berepeated the frightened beast had taken a great bound ahead and out ofdanger. This exciting phase of the pursuit, however, was of onlymomentary duration. The horses of the Caesarians were so incomparablysuperior to the common army hacks of the soldiers, that, as soon asthe noble blooded animals began to stretch their long limbs on thehard Roman road, the troopers dropped back to a harmless distance inthe rear. The cavalrymen's horses, furthermore, had been thoroughlywinded by the fierce gallop over the bridge, and now it was out of thequestion for them to pursue. Before the flight had continued a mile,the Caesarians had the satisfaction of seeing their enemies draw rein,then turn back to the city. The friends, however, did not check theirpace until, safe beyond chance of overtaking, they reined in at anhospitable tavern in the old Etruscan town of Veii.
Here Drusus took leave of Agias.
"You are quite too unimportant an enemy," said he to the young Greek,"to be worth arrest by the consuls, if indeed they know what part youhave had in our escape. I know not what perils are before me, and Ihave no right to ask you to share them. You have long ago paid off anydebt of gratitude that you owed me and mine when Fabia saved yourlife. I am your patron no longer; go, and live honourably, and youwill find deposited with Flaccus a sum that will provide for all yourneeds. If ever I return to Rome, my party victorious, myself infavour, then let us renew our friendship; but till then you and I meetno more."
Agias knelt and kissed Drusus's robe in a semi-Oriental obeisance.
"And is there nothing," he asked half wistfully at the parting, "thatI can yet do for you?"
"Nothing," said Drusus, "except to see that no harm come to my AuntFabia, and if it be possible deliver Cornelia from the clutches of herbloody uncle."
"Ah!" said Agias, smiling, "that is indeed _something_! But be nottroubled, domine,"--he spoke as if Drusus was still his master,--"Iwill find a way."
That evening, under the canopy of night, the five Caesarians sped,swift as their horses could bear them, on their way to Ravenna.
A Friend of Cæsar: A Tale of the Fall of the Roman Republic. Time, 50-47 B.C. Page 16