Chapter XVIII
How Pompeius Stamped with His Feet
I
A messenger to the consuls! He had ridden fast and furious, his horsewas flecked with foam and straining on his last burst of speed. Onover the Mulvian Bridge he thundered; on across the Campus Martius; onto the Porta Ratumena--with all the hucksters and street rabblehowling and chasing at his heels.
"News! News for the consuls!"
"What news?" howled old Laeca, who was never backward in a streetpress.
"Terrible!" shouted the messenger, drawing rein, "Caesar is sweepingall before him! All Thermus's troops have deserted him at Iguvium.Attius Varus has evacuated Auximum, and his troops too have dispersed,or joined Caesar. All the towns are declaring for the enemy. _Vah!_ Hewill be here in a few days at most! I am the last of the relay withthe news. I have hardly breathed from Eretum!"
And the courier plunged the spur into his hard-driven mount, andforced his way into the city, through the mob. "Caesar advancing onRome!" The Jewish pedlers took up the tale, and carried it to theremotest tenement houses of Janiculum. The lazy street-idlers shoutedit shrilly. Laeca, catching sight of Lucius Ahenobarbus, just back fromBaiae, and a little knot of kindred spirits about him, was in aninstant pouring it all in their ears. The news spread, flew, grew. Thebankers on the Via Sacra closed their credit books, raised theirshutters, and sent trusted clerks off to suburban villas, with dueorders how to bury and hide weighty money-bags. The news came to thatvery noble lady Claudia, sister-in-law of the consul, just at themoment when she was discussing the latest style of hairdressing withthe most excellent Herennia; and the cheeks of those patrician ladiesgrew pale, and they forgot whether or not it was proper to wear ivorypins or a jewel-set head-band, at the dinner-party of Lucius Piso thatevening. The news came to Lentulus Crus while he was wrangling withDomitius as to who should be Caesar's successor as PontifexMaximus--and those distinguished statesmen found other things to thinkof.
The news flew and grew. The noble senators overheard their slaveswhispering,--how it was rumoured on the street or in the Forum thatCaesar was in full advance on the city, that his cavalry were close tothe gates. Caesar at the gates! Why had they not remembered how rapidlyhe could advance? Why had they trusted the assurance of the traitorLabienus that the legions would desert their Imperator? Resist? Bywhat means? The walls were walls only in name; the city had longoutgrown them, spreading through a thousand breaches. There was not atrained soldier this side of Capua, whither Pompeius had departed onlythe day before to take command of the Apulian legions. Caesar wascoming! Caesar--whose tribunes the oligarchs had chased from theSenate! Caesar--whom they had proclaimed a rebel and public enemy! Hewas coming like a second Marius, who thirty-eight years before hadswept down on Rome, and taken a terrible vengeance on enemies lessbitter to him than they to the great Julian. "_Moriendum est_,"[157]had been the only reply to every plea for mercy. And would Caesar nowbe more lenient to those who had aimed to blast his honour and shedhis blood?
[157] He has got to die.
Evening drew on, but the calamity was only delayed. There was not asoldier to confront the invader. Few men that night could sleep. Richand poor alike, all trembled. To their imaginations their foe was anogre, implacable, unsparing. "Remember how it was in Sulla's day,"croaked Laeca to Ahenobarbus. "Remember how he proscribed fortysenators and sixteen hundred equites with one stroke. A fine examplefor Caesar! And Drusus, who is with the rebels, is little likely to saya good word in your behalf, eh?"
"The gods blast your tongue!" cried the young man, wringing his handsin terror; for that Drusus would ruin him, if he gained the chance,Lucius had not the least doubt in the world.
So passed the night, in fear and panic. When morning came everythingsave flight seemed suicide. There was a great government treasure inthe Temple of Saturn. The Senate had voted that the money be deliveredto Pompeius. But the consuls were too demoralized to take away adenarius. They left the great hoard under mere lock and key--a presentto their bitterest enemy. Then began the great exodus. Hardly a manhad done more than gather a few valuables together: property,children, wives--all these were left to the avenger. Down the ViaAppia, toward Campania, where was their only safety, poured thepanic-stricken company. Every carriage, every horse, was in service.The hard-driven chariots of the consuls were the tokens merely of theswiftest flight. Lentulus Crus fled; Caius Marcellus, his colleague,was close behind; Domitius fled, with his sons; Cato fled, ironicallyexclaiming that they would have to leave everything to Pompeius now,"for those who can raise up great evils can best allay them." Favoniusfled, whose first words, when he met the Magnus, were to command himto "stamp on the ground for the legions so sorely needed." Piso,Scipio, and many another fled--their guilty hearts adding wings totheir goings. Cicero fled--gazing in cynical disgust at the panic andincompetence, yet with a sword of Damocles, as he believed, hangingover his head also. "I fear that Caesar will be a very Phalaris, andthat we may expect the very worst," he wrote to his intimate friendAtticus, who, safe from harm and turmoil, was dwelling under the calmAthenian sky. A great fraction of the Senate departed; only thosestayed who felt that their loyalty to the advancing Imperator wasbeyond dispute, or who deemed themselves too insignificant to fallbeneath his displeasure. In the hour of crisis the old ties ofreligion and superstition reasserted themselves. Senators andmagistrates, who had deemed it a polite avocation to mock at the godsand deny the existence of any absolute ethical standards, now, beforethey climbed into their carriages for flight, went, with due ritual,into the temples of the gods of their fathers, and swore hecatombs ofmilk-white Umbrian steers to Capitoline Jove, if the awful deity wouldrestore them to the native land they then were quitting. And as theywent down from the temples and hastened toward the gates, friends andclients who could not join their flight crowded after them, sighing,lamenting, and moaning. Out over the Campagna they streamed, thiscompany of senators, praetors, consuls--men who had voted thrones tokings, and decreed the deposition of monarchs; whose personal wealthwas princely, whose lineage the noblest in the world, whose ancestorshad beaten down Etruscan, Gaul, Samnite, and Carthaginian, that theirposterity might enjoy the glory of unequalled empire. And thesedescendants fled, fled not before any foe, but before their own guiltyconsciences; abandoning the city of their fathers when not a sword hadflashed against her gates! The war had been of their making; to sendCaesar into outlawry the aristocracy had laboured ten long years. Andnow the noble lords were exiles, wanderers among the nations. To Capuathey went, to find small comfort there, and thence to join Pompeius infurther flight beyond the seas to Greece. But we anticipate. Enoughthat neither Lentulus Crus, nor Domitius, nor Cato, nor the greatMagnus himself, ever saw Rome again.
II
Agias stood in a shop by the Sacred Way watching the stream offugitives pouring down toward the Porta Capena. At his side was aperson whom a glance proclaimed to be a fellow-Greek. The stranger wasperhaps fifty, his frame presented a faultless picture of symmetry andmanly vigour, great of stature, the limbs large but not ungainly. Hisfeatures were regular, but possessed just enough prominence to makethem free from the least tinge of weakness. The Greek's long, thick,dark but grey-streaked beard streamed down upon his breast; his hair,of similar hue, was long, and tossed back over his shoulders in loosecurls. His dress was rich, yet rude, his chiton and cloak short, butof choice Milesian wool and dyed scarlet and purple; around his neckdangled a very heavy gold chain set with conspicuously blazing jewels.The ankles, however, were bare, and the sandals of the slightest andmeanest description. The stranger must once have been of a light, notto say fair, complexion; but cheeks, throat, arms, and feet were alldeeply bronzed, evidently by prolonged exposure to wind and weather.Agias and his companion watched the throng of panic-struck exiles. Theyounger Greek was pointing out, with the complacency of familiarknowledge, the names and dignities of the illustrious fugitives.
"Yonder goes Cato," he was saying; "mark his bitter scowl! There goesMarcus Marcel
lus, the consular. There drives the chariot of LuciusDomitius, Caesar's great enemy." And Agias stopped, for his friend hadseized his arm with a sudden grasp, crushing as iron. "Why, by allthe gods, Demetrius, why are you staring at him that way?"
"By Zeus!" muttered the other, "if I had only my sword! It would beeasy to stab him, and then escape in this crowd!"
"Stab him!" cried Agias. "Demetrius, good cousin, control yourself.You are not on the deck of your trireme, with all your men about you.Why should you be thus sanguinary, when you see Lucius Domitius? Whyhate him more than any other Roman?"
The consular, unaware of the threat against him, but with a compellingfear of Caesar's Gallic cavalry lending strength to the arm with whichhe plied the whip--for the law against driving inside the city no manrespected that day--whirled out of sight.
Demetrius still strained at his cousin's arm.
"Listen, Agias," he said, still hoarsely. "Only yesterday I ran uponyou by chance in the crowd. We have many things to tell one another,chiefly I to tell you. Why do I hate Lucius Domitius? Why should youhate him? Who made you a slave and me an outlaw? Your father diedbankrupt; you know it was said that Philias, his partner, ruined him.That was truth, but not the whole truth. Philias was under deepobligations to a certain Roman then in the East, who knew of severalcrimes Philias had committed, crimes that would bring him to the crossif discovered. Do you understand?"
"Hardly," said Agias, still bewildered. "I was very young then."
"I will go on. It was shortly before Pompeius returned to Rome fromthe East. Your father had charge of the banking firm in Alexandria,Philias of the branch at Antioch. I was a clerk in the Antiochbanking-house. I knew that Philias was misusing his partner's name andcredit. The Roman whom I have mentioned knew it too, and had a suppleGreek confidant who shared his spoils and gave the touches to hisschemes. He had good cause to know: he was levying blackmail onPhilias. At last a crisis came; the defalcation could be concealed nolonger. Philias was duly punished; he was less guilty than he seemed.But the Roman--who had forced from him the money--he was high on thestaff of the proconsul--let his confederate and tool suffer for hisown fault. He kept his peace. I would not have kept mine; I would nothave let the real ruiner of my uncle escape. But the Roman had meseized, with the aid of his Greek ally; he charged me with treasonablecorrespondence with the Parthians. He, through his influence with theproconsul, had me bound to the oar as a galley slave for life. I wouldhave been executed but for another Roman, of the governor's suite, whowas my friend. He pleaded for my life; he believed me innocent. Hesaved my life--on what terms! But that is not all he did. He bribed myguards; I escaped and turned outlaw. I joined the last remnants of theCilician pirates, the few free mariners who have survived Pompeius'sraid. And here I am in Rome with one of my ships, disguised as atrader, riding at the river wharf."
"And the name of the Roman who ruined you and my father?" said Agias.
"Was Lucius Domitius. The friend who saved me was Sextus Drusus, sonof Marcus Drusus, the reformer. And if I do not recompense them bothas they deserve, I am not Demetrius the pirate, captain of sevenships!"
"You will never recompense Sextus Drusus," remarked Agias, quietly."He has been dead, slain in Gaul, these five years."
"Such is the will of the gods," said Demetrius, looking down.
"But he has left a son."
"Ah! What sort of a man?"
"The noblest of all noble Romans. He is the Quintus Drusus who savedmy life, as last night I told you."
"Mithras be praised! The name is so common among these Latins that Idid not imagine any connection when you mentioned it. What can I do toserve him?"
"Immediately, nothing. He is with Caesar, and, as you see, the enemiesof the Imperator are not likely, at present, to work his friends muchmischief. Yet it is singular that his chief enemy and yours are sonear akin. Lucius Ahenobarbus, son of Domitius, is thirsting forDrusus's blood."
"If I had my sword!" muttered Demetrius, clapping his hand to histhigh. "It is not too late to run after the fugitives!"
"Come, come," remonstrated Agias, feeling that his newly found cousinwas indeed a fearful and wonderful man after twelve years of lawlessand godless freebooter's life. "At my lodgings we will talk it allover; and there will be time enough to scheme the undoing of Domitiusand all his family."
And with these words he led the sanguinary sea-king away.
* * * * *
Agias indeed found in Demetrius a perfect mine of bloody romance andadventure. It had been the banking clerk's misfortune, not his fault,that every man's hand had been against him and his against every man.Demetrius had been declared an outlaw to Roman authority; and Romanauthority at that time stretched over very nearly every quarter of thecivilized world. Demetrius had been to India, to intercept the Red Seatraders. He had been beyond the Pillars of Hercules and set foot onthose then half-mythical islands of the Canaries. He had plundered ahundred merchantmen; he had fought a score of Roman governmentgalleys; he had been principal or accessory to the taking of tenthousand lives. All this had been forced upon him, because there wasno tolerable spot on the planet where he might settle down and be freefrom the grasp of punishment for a crime he had never committed.
Demetrius had boldly come up to Rome on a light undecked yacht.[158]The harbor masters had been given to understand that the captain ofthe craft was an Asiatic princeling, who was visiting the capital ofthe world out of a quite legitimate curiosity. If they had had anydoubts, they accepted extremely large fees and said nothing. The realobject of the venture was to dispose of a large collection of raregems and other valuables that Demetrius had collected in the course ofhis wanderings. Despite the perturbed state of the city, the worthypirate had had little difficulty in arranging with certain wealthyjewellers, who asked no questions, when they bought, at a very largediscount, bargains of a most satisfactory character. And so it came topass, by the merest luck, that the two cousins were thrown together ina crowd, and partly Agias, through his dim childish recollections ofhis unfortunate relative, and partly Demetrius, through memories ofhis uncle's boy and the close resemblance of the lad to his father,had been prompted first to conversation, then to mutual inquiries,then to recognition.
[158] A _celox_ of one bank of oars, a small ship much used by the pirates.
Demetrius had no intention of leaving Rome for a few days. Underexisting circumstances the chances of his arrest were not worthconsidering. His cousin was eager to show him all the sights; and thefreebooter was glad of a little relaxation from his roving life, gladto forget for an instant that his country was his squadron, his rightsat law were his cutlass. Moreover, he had taken a vast liking toAgias; deeply dipped in blood himself, he dared not desire his cousinto join him in his career of violence--yet he could not part with thebright, genial lad so hastily. Agias needed no entreaties, therefore,to induce his cousin to enjoy his hospitality.
III
Fabia the Vestal was in direful perplexity. Her heart had gone withDrusus in his flight to Ravenna; she had wished herself beside him, tobe a man, able to fight a man's battles and win a man's glory. For thefirst time in her life the quiet routine of the Temple service broughther no contentment; for the first time she felt herself bound to acareer that could not satisfy. She was restless and moody. The youngerVestals, whose attendance on the sacred fire and care of the Templeshe oversaw, wondered at her exacting petulance. Little Livia broughther aunt to her senses, by asking why she, Fabia, did not love her anymore. The lady summoned all her strength of character, and resumed heroutward placidity. She knew that Drusus was safe with Caesar, andexposed only to the ordinary chances of war. She became more at easeas each successive messenger came into the city, bearing the tidingsof the Gallic proconsul's advance. Too innocent herself of thepolitical turmoils of the day to decide upon the merits of theparties, her hopes and wishes had gone with those of her nephew; sopure and unquestioning was her belief that he would espouse only theright. And
when the great panic came; when trembling consulars andpallid magistrates rushed to the Temple of Vesta to proffer their lasthurried vows, before speeding away to Capua, their refuge; Fabia stoodall day beside the altar, stately, gracious, yet awe-inspiring, thefitting personification of the benignant Hearth Goddess, who was abovethe petty passions of mortals and granted to each an impartial favour.
Yet Fabia was sorely distressed, and that too on the very day of thegreat exodus of the Senate. She had heard for some time past rumoursof the depredations of a certain band of robbers upon the Sabine andAEquian country. It was said that a gang of bandits, headed by agigantic Gaul, had plundered some farms near Carsioli and infested themountain regions round about. Fabia had connected this gang and itschieftain with Dumnorix and the remnant of his gladiators, who escapedafter their disastrous affray at Praeneste. As for Publius Gabinius,who had on one occasion given her such distress, nothing had beenheard or seen of him since the Praeneste affair. It was generallybelieved, however, that he was still with Dumnorix. And a few daysbefore the panic in the city, Fabia had received a letter. A strangeslave had left it at the Atrium Vestae, and had gone away withoutexplanations. It ran thus:--
"To the very noble Vestal, the Lady Fabia, greeting:--
Though I am now so unfortunate as to be barred from the doors of alllaw-abiding men, do not imagine this will forever continue. In theconfusion and readjustments of war, and the calamities of many, theaffairs of some, one time enemies of Fortune, come to a happy issue.Do not say that Mars may not lead Amor and Hymen in his train. Allthings come to them who wait. I wait. Remember the life you spend inthe Temple is no longer obligatory. Be no cage bird who will not flyout into the sunlight when the door is opened freely. Be surprised andangry at nothing. _Vale_."
There was no date, no signature. The hand was distorted, evidently fordisguise. Fabia was in a dilemma. She did not need to be told that inall probability--though she had no proof--the writer was Gabinius. Shewas extremely reluctant to tell any one of her escape from hisclutches in the villa by the Appian Way. However, some confidantseemed necessary. She knew that Fonteia, the senior Vestal, theMaxima, would never treat her other than as a sister, and to her sheread the letter and imparted her story and fears. Fonteia did notregard the matter in a very serious light. She was herself an oldwoman, grown grey in the service of Vesta. She said that Fabia hadbeen most fortunate to remain in the Temple service so long as she hadand not be harassed by more than one impious and overbold suitor. Theonly thing to do was to be careful and avoid anything that would givefalse appearances. As for Fabia's fears that Gabinius would attempt tocarry her away perforce, as he had perhaps treated earliersweethearts, Fonteia scoffed at the suggestion. The Atrium Vestae wasin the heart of the city; there was a constant patrol on duty. For aman to enter the Building at night meant the death penalty. Whosoeverdid violence to a Vestal fell under a religious curse; he was a _homosacer_, a "sacred man," a victim devoted to the gods, whom it was apious deed to slay. And thus comforted, with the assurance that thewhole power of the Republic would rise for her personal defence, Fabiawas fain to put the disquieting letter from her heart.
Then followed the night of panic, and the succeeding day. There wereno longer any magistrates in Rome. The great palaces of the patriciansstood deserted, exposed to the unfaithful guardianship of freedmen andslaves. The bankers' booths were closed, the shops did not raise theirshutters. On the streets swarmed the irresponsible and the vicious.Men of property who had not fled barred their doors and stood guardwith their servants to beat back would-be plunderers. There were nowatchmen at the gates, no courts sitting in the basilicas. After thegreat flight of the early morning, Rome was a city without warders,police, or government.
Fabia did not realize this fact until late in the afternoon, when shestarted forth, on foot and unattended, to visit a friend on theCaelian. The half-deserted streets and barricaded houses filled herwith uneasy tremors. The low, brutish creatures that she met gave herlittle heed; but the sight of them, alone and not offset by any morerespectable fellow-strollers, made her turn back to the Atrium Vestae.As she hastened on her way homeward an uneasy sensation haunted herthat she was being followed. She halted, faced about. The street wasnarrow, the light was beginning to fade. The figure of a man wasvanishing in the booth of some bold vintner, who had ventured to riskplunder for the sake of sales. She proceeded. A moment later a halfglance over the shoulder and a straining of the eyes told her that thestranger was continuing his pursuit. He kept very close to the side ofthe buildings. His face and form were quite lost in shadow. Fabiaquickened her pace; the stranger increased his also, yet made noeffort to cut down the distance between them. The Vestal began to feelthe blood mantling to her cheeks and leaving them again. She was sonear to the Forum and the Atrium Vestae now that she could not beovertaken. But why did the stranger follow?
There was a gap in the houses ahead. Through a narrow alley the dyinglight was streaming. Fabia passed it, timed herself, glanced back. Foran instant, and only an instant (for the stranger walked rapidly), thelight glared full upon his face. But Fabia needed to see no more. Itwas the face of Publius Gabinius. By a mighty effort she preventedherself from breaking into a run. She passed into the doorway of theAtrium Vestae, and sank upon a divan, shivering with fright.Recollecting herself, she went to Fonteia and told her the discovery.The Maxima, however, by that singular fatuity which sometimes takespossession of the wisest of people,--especially when the possibledanger is one which never in all their long experience has come to ahead,--received her warnings with blank incredulity.
"You should not go out of the house and Temple," she said, "untilthere is some proper policing of the city. No doubt Gabinius has comeback for the sake of riot and plunder, and having met with you bychance could not resist the temptation to try to have an interview;but you are in no possible danger here."
"But, Fonteia," urged the younger Vestal, "I know him to be a bold,desperate man, who fears not the gods, and who from the law can expectno mercy. And we in this house are but weak women folk. Our onlydefence is our purity and the reverence of the people. But only theevil wander the streets to-night; and our virtuous lives make us onlythe more attractive prey to such men as Gabinius."
"Fabia," said the other Vestal, severely, "I am older than you. I havebeheld sights you have never seen. I saw the riots when Saturninus andGlaucia came to their ends; when Marius was chased from Rome andSulpicius put to death; when Marius returned with Cinna; and all themassacres and strife attending the taking of the city by Sulla. Butnever has the name of Vesta been insufficient to protect us from theviolence of the basest or the most godless. Nor will it now. I willtrust in the goddess, and the fear of her, which protects her maidensagainst all men. We will sleep to-night as usual. I will not sendanywhere to have guards stationed around the house and Temple."
Fabia bowed her head. The word of the aged Maxima was law in thelittle community. Fabia told herself that Fonteia was right--not evenGabinius would dare to set unhallowed foot inside the Atrium Vestae.But the vision of the coarse, sensual face of her unloved lover wasever before her. In ordinary times she would have been tempted to goto one of the consuls and demand that Fonteia be overruled; but inordinary times there would not have been the least need of adding tothe already sufficient city watch. It lacked four hours of midnightbefore she brought herself to take her tablets and write the followingbrief note:--
"Fabia the Vestal to Agias her good friend, greeting. I am in someanxiety to-night. Gabinius, Lucius Ahenobarbus's friend, is in thecity. He means, I fear, to work me some mischief, though the causewhereby I have good reason to dread him is too long here to write. TheAtrium Vestae has nothing to protect it to-night--as you well mayunderstand--from impious, violent men. Can you not guard me overnight?I do not know how. Gabinius may have all Dumnorix's band with him. Butyou alone are equal to an host. I trust you, as Drusus and Corneliahave trusted you. _Vale_."
Fabia called one of the young slave-girls who waited
on the Vestals.The relation between servant and mistress, in the Temple company, wasalmost ideal in its gentle loyalty. The slaves were happy in theirbondage.
"Erigone," she said, putting the tablets in the girl's hand, "I amabout to ask of you a very brave thing. Do you dare to take thisletter through the city?" and she told her how to find Agias'slodgings. "Come back in the morning if you dread a double journey. Butdo not tell Fonteia; she would be angry if she knew I sent you, thoughthere is nothing but what is right in the letter."
"I will carry the tablets to Scythia for you, domina," replied thegirl, kissing the hem of her mistress's robe. "I know all the streets.If I live, the letter shall be delivered."
"Go by the alleys," enjoined Fabia; "they are safer, for you will notbe seen. Speak to no one. Let none stop you."
Erigone was gone in the night, and Fabia went to her chamber. She wasreproaching herself for having sent the letter. Rome by darkness wasan evil place for a young maid to traverse, and never worse than thatnight. Fabia repeated to herself that she had committed an act ofselfish folly, possibly sacrificing an implicitly loyal servant to themere gratification of a perfectly ungrounded panic. She was undressedby her other women, and lay down with Livia fast asleep in her arms;and she kissed the little one again and again before slumber stoleover her.
IV
Demetrius had been astonishing his cousin that evening by the quantityof strong wine he could imbibe without becoming in the least tipsy.Agias marvelled at the worthy pirate's capacity and hardness of head,and, fortunately for his own wits, did not attempt to emulate theother's potations. Consequently, as the evening advanced, Demetriussimply became more and more good-natured and talkative, and Agias moreentranced with his cousin's narration of the Indian voyage.
The younger Greek was about to order his yawning servants to fill upanother _krater_,[159] when the conversation and drinking wereinterrupted by the arrival of Erigone. She, poor girl, had set outbravely enough; but once outside of the Atrium Vestae every shadow hadbeen a refuge of cutthroats, every noise the oncoming of goblins.Fortunately for her, she did not know the contents of the tablets shecarried pressed to her breast, or she would have been all the moretimorous. Once a few half-sober topers screamed ribald words afterher, as she stole past a low tavern. She had lost her way, in thedarkness and fright, among the alleys; she had dodged into a doorwaymore than once to hide from approaching night rovers. But at last shehad reached her destination, and, pale and weary, placed the letter inAgias's hands. The young Greek read and grew grave. Even better thanFabia he understood how reckless a profligate Publius Gabinius mightbe, and how opportune was the night for carrying out any deed ofdarkness.
[159] Wine-mixing bowl.
"Brave girl!" he said, commending Erigone for persevering on hererrand. "But how long ago did you leave your mistress?"
"It was the second hour of the night[160] when I started," shereplied.
[160] The Romans divided the night into 12 hours (from sunrise to sunset); thus the length of the hour varied with the seasons: but at the time here mentioned the "second hour" was about 8 P.M. The water-clocks could show only regular, not solar, time.
Agias glanced at the water-clock.
"By Zeus!" he cried, "it is now the fourth hour! You have been twohours on the way! Immortal gods! What's to be done? Look here,Demetrius!"
And he thrust the letter before his cousin, and explained its meaningas rapidly as he could.
Demetrius puffed hard through his nostrils.
"_Mu! mu!_ This is bad business. If there were time I could havetwenty as stout men as ever swung sword up from the yacht and on guardto die for any relative or friend of Sextus Drusus. But there's not amoment to lose. Have you any arms?"
Agias dragged two short swords out of a chest. Demetrius was alreadythrowing on his cloak.
"Those are poor, light weapons," commented the pirate. "I want myheavy cutlass. But take what the gods send;" and he girded one abouthim. "At least, they will cut a throat. Do you know how to wieldthem?"
"After a fashion," replied Agias, modestly, making haste to clasp hispaenula.
Leaving Erigone to be cared for by the slaves and sent home the nextmorning, the two Greeks hastened from the house. Agias could hardlykeep pace with his cousin's tremendous stride. Demetrius was like awar-horse, which snuffs the battle from afar and tugs at the rein tojoin in the fray. They plunged through the dark streets. Once a mansprang out from a doorway before them with a cudgel. He may have beena footpad; but Demetrius, without pausing in his haste, smote thefellow between the eyes with a terrible fist, and the wretchedcreature dropped without a groan. Demetrius seemed guided to the Forumand Via Sacra as if by an inborn instinct. Agias almost ran at hisheels.
"How many may this Dumnorix have with him?" shouted the pirate overhis shoulder.
"Perhaps ten, perhaps twenty!" gasped Agias.
"A very pretty number! Some little credit to throttle them," was hisanswer; and Demetrius plunged on.
The night was cloudy, there was no moonlight. The cold, chill windswept down the Tiber valley, and howled mournfully among the tall,silent basilicas and temples of the Forum. The feet of the two Greeksechoed and reëchoed as they crossed the pavement of the enclosure.None addressed them, none met them. It was as if they walked in a cityof the dead. In the darkness, like weird phantoms, rose the tallcolumns and pediments of the deserted buildings. From nowhere twinkledthe ray of lamp. Dim against the sky-line the outlines of theCapitoline and its shrines were now and then visible, when the nightseemed for an instant to grow less dark.
They were close to the Atrium Vestae. All was quiet. No light within,no sound but that of the wind and their own breathing without.
"We are not too late," whispered Agias.
The two groped their way in among the pillars of the portico of the_Regia,_[161] and crouched down under cover of the masonry, halfsheltered from the chilly blasts. They could from their post command atolerably good view of one side of the Atrium Vestae. Still thedarkness was very great, and they dared not divide their force by oneof them standing watch on the other side. The moments passed. It wasextremely cold. Agias shivered and wound himself in his mantle. Thewine was making him drowsy, and he felt himself sinking intosemiconsciousness, when a touch on his arm aroused him.
[161] The official residence of the Pontifex Maximus.
"_St!"_ whispered Demetrius. "I saw a light moving."
Agias stared into the darkness.
"There," continued the pirate, "see, it is a lantern carefullycovered! Only a little glint on the ground now and then. Some one iscreeping along the wall to enter the house of the Vestals!"
"I see nothing," confessed Agias, rubbing his eyes.
"You are no sailor; look harder. I can count four men in the gloom.They are stealing up to the gate of the building. Is your sword ready?Now--"
But at this instant Demetrius was cut short by a scream--scream ofmortal terror--from within the Atrium Vestae. There were shouts, howls,commands, moans, entreaties, shrieks. Light after light blazed up inthe building; women rushed panic-struck to the doorway to burst forthinto the night; and at the open portal Agias saw a gigantic figurewith upraised long sword, a Titan, malevolent, destroying,terrible,--at the sight whereof the women shrank back, screaming yetthe more.
"Dumnorix!" shouted Agias; but before he spoke Demetrius had leapedforward.
Right past the sword-wielding monster sprang the pirate, and Agias,all reckless, was at his heels. The twain were in the atrium of thehouse. A torch was spluttering and blazing on the pavement, sheddingall around a bright, flickering, red glare. Young Vestals andmaid-servants were cowering on their knees, or prone on cushions,writhing and screaming with fear unspeakable. A swart Spanish brigand,with his sabre gripped in his teeth, was tearing a gold-thread andsilk covering from a pillow; a second plunderer was wrenching from itschain a silver lamp. Demetrius rushed past these also, before anycould inquire whether he was not a comrade in infamy. But there
wereother shouts from the peristylium, other cries and meanings. As thepirate sprang to the head of the passage leading to the inner house, aswarm of desperadoes poured through it, Gauls, Germans, Africans,Italian renegadoes,--perhaps ten in all,--and in their midst--halfborne, half dragged--something white!
"_Io triumphe!_" called a voice from the throng, "my bird will leaveher cage!"
"The lady! Gabinius!" cried Agias, and, without waiting for hiscousin, the young Greek flung himself forward. One stroke of his shortsword sent a leering negro prone upon the pavement; one snatch of hishand seized the white mantle, and held it--held it though half a dozenblades were flashing in his face in an eye's twinkling. But theprowess of twenty men was in the arm of Demetrius; his sword was atonce attacker and shield; with a single sweeping blow he smote downthe guard and cleft the skull of a towering Teuton; with a lightningdart he caught up the ponderous long sword of the falling brigand,passed his own shorter weapon to his left hand, and so fought,--doublyarmed,--parrying with his left and striking with his right. And how hestruck! The whole agile, supple nature of the Greek entered into everyfence. He struck and foiled with his entire body. Now a bound to oneside; now a dart at an opponent's head; fighting with feet, head,frame, and not with hands only. And Agias--he fought too, and knew nothow he fought! When a blow was aimed at him, Demetrius always parriedit before he could raise his sword; if he struck, Demetrius had felledthe man first; but he never let go of the white dress, nor quitted theside of the lady. And presently, he did not know after how long--forhours make minutes, and minutes hours, in such a melee--there was amoment's silence, and he saw Publius Gabinius sinking down upon thepavement, the blood streaming over his cloak; and the brigands, suchas were left of them, scurrying out of the atrium cowed andpanic-struck at the fall of their leader. Then, as he threw his armsabout Fabia, and tried to raise her to her feet, he saw the giantDumnorix, with his flail-like sword, rushing back to the rescue.
Four brigands lay dead in the atrium and none of the others dared lookthe redoubtable Greek swordsman in the eyes; but Dumnorix came on--theincarnation of brute fury. Then again Demetrius fought,--fought as theangler fights the fish that he doubts not to land, yet only after dueplay; and the Gaul, like some awkward Polyphemus, rushed upon him,flinging at him barbarous curses in his own tongue, and snorting andraging like a bull. Thrice the Greek sprang back before the monster;thrice the giant swung his mighty sword to cleave his foeman down, andcut the empty air; but at the fourth onset the Hellene smote theex-lanista once across the neck, and the great eyes rolled, and thepanting stopped, and the mighty Gaul lay silent in a spreading pool ofblood.
Already there were shouts and cries in the Forum. Torches were dancinghither and thither. The slave-maids of the Vestals ran down the ViaSacra shrieking and calling for aid. Out from the dark tenementsrushed the people. The thieves ran from their lairs; the late drinkerssprang from their wine. And when the wretched remnants of Dumnorix'sband of ex-gladiators and brigands strove to flee from the holy housethey had polluted, a hundred hands were put forth against each one,and they were torn to pieces by the frenzied mob. Into the AtriumVestae swarmed the people, howling, shouting, praising the goddess,fighting one another--every man imagining his neighbour a cutthroatand abductor.
Agias stood bearing up Fabia in his arms; she was pale as the drivensnow. Her lips moved, but no sound passed from them. Fonteia, the oldMaxima, with her white hair tumbling over her shoulders, was stillhuddled in one corner, groaning and moaning in a paroxysm ofunreasoning terror, without dignity or self-control. A frightened maidhad touched the torch to the tall candelabra, and the room blazed witha score of lights; while in at the doorway pressed the multitude--themob of low tapsters, brutal butchers, coarse pedlers, and drunkardsjust staggering from their cups. The scene was one of pandemonium.Dumnorix lay prone on a costly rug, whose graceful patterns were beingdyed to a hideous crimson; over one divan lay a brigand--struggling inthe last agony of a mortal wound. Three comrades lay stretched stiffand motionless on the floor. Gory swords and daggers were strewn allover the atrium; the presses of costly wood had been torn open, theircontents scattered across the room. There was blood on the frescoes,blood on the marble feet of the magnificent Diomedes, which stoodrigid in cold majesty on its pedestal, dominating the wreck below.
Agias with Fabia stood at the end of the atrium near the exit to theperistylium. Demetrius, seemingly hardly breathed by his exertions,leaned on his captured long sword at his cousin's side. The multitude,for an instant, as they saw the ruin and slaughter, drew back with ahush. Men turned away their faces as from a sight of evil omen. Whowere they to set foot in the mansion of the servants of the awfulVesta? But others from behind, who saw and heard nothing, pressedtheir fellows forward. The mob swept on. As with one consent all eyeswere riveted on Fabia. What had happened? Who was guilty? Why hadthese men of violence done this wrong to the home of the hearthgoddess? And then out of a farther corner, while yet the peoplehesitated from reverence, staggered a figure, its face streaming withblood, its hands pressing its side.
"_Quirites_," cried a voice, the voice of one speaking with but oneremaining breath, "ye have rewarded me as the law demands; see that_she_" and a bloody forefinger pointed at Fabia, "who led me to thisdeed, is not unpunished. _She_ is the more guilty!"
And with a groan the figure fell like a statue of wood to thepavement; fell heavily, and lay stirring not, neither giving anysound. In his last moment Publius Gabinius had sought a terriblerevenge.
And then madness seized on the people.
"She is his sweetheart! She is his paramour!" cried a score of filthyvoices. "She has brought down this insult to the goddess! There is nopontifex here to try her! Tear her in pieces! Strike! Slay!"
But Demetrius had turned to his cousin.
"Agias," he said, making himself heard despite the clamour, "do youbelieve the charge of that man?"
"No villain ever would avenge himself more basely."
"Then at all costs we must save the lady."
It was time. A fat butcher, flourishing a heavy cleaver, had leapedforward; Fabia saw him with glassy, frightened eyes, but neithershrieked nor drew back. But Demetrius smote the man with his longsword through the body, and the brute dropped the cleaver as he fell.
"Now," and Demetrius seized the Vestal around the waist, as lightly asa girl would raise a kitten, and flung her across his shoulders. Onestride and he was in the passage leading to the peristylium; andbefore the mob could follow Agias had dashed the door in their faces,and shot the bolt.
"It will hold them back a moment," muttered Demetrius, "but we musthasten."
They ran across the peristylium, the pirate chief with his burden noless swift than Agias. The door to the rear street was flung open, andthey were out in a narrow alleyway. Just as they did so, a howl ofmany voices proclaimed that the peristylium door had yielded.
"Guide me by the straightest way," commanded the sea rover.
"Where?" was Agias's question.
"To the wharves. The yacht is the only safe place for the lady. ThereI will teach her how I can honour a friend of Sextus Drusus."
Agias felt that it was no time for expostulation. A Vestal Virgin takerefuge on a pirate ship! But it was a matter of life and death now,and there was no time for forming another plan. Once let the mobovertake them, and the lives of all three were not worth a sesterce.Agias found it necessary to keep himself collected while he ran, or hewould lose the way in the maze of streets. The yacht was moored farbelow the Pons Sublicius, and the whole way was full of peril. It wasno use to turn off into alleys and by-paths; to do so at night meantto be involved in a labyrinth as deadly for them as that of the CretanMinos. The mob was on their heels, howling, raging. The people werebeginning to wake in their houses along the streets. Men bawled "Stopthief!" from the windows, imagining there had been a robbery. Once twoor three figures actually swung out into the way before them, but at astray glint of lantern light falling on Demetrius's naked long sword,they
vanished in the gloom. But still the mob pressed on, ever gainingaccessions, ever howling the more fiercely. Agias realized that theweight of his burden was beginning to tell on even the iron frame ofhis cousin. The pursuers and pursued were drawing closer together. Themob was ever reenforced by relays; the handicap on Demetrius was toogreat. They had passed down the Vicus Tuscus, flown past the darkshadow of the lower end of the Circus Maximus. At the Porta Trigeminathe unguarded portal had stood open; there was none to stop them. Theypassed by the Pons Sublicius, and skirted the Aventine. Stones andbillets of wood began to whistle past their ears,--the missiles of theon-rushing multitude. At last the wharves! Out in the darkness stoodthe huge bulk of a Spanish lumberman; but there was no refuge there.The grain wharves and the oil wharves were passed; the sniff of themackerel fisher, the faint odour from the great Alexandrianmerchantman loaded with the spices of India, were come and gone. Astone struck Agias in the shoulder, he felt numb in one arm, to draghis feet was a burden; the flight with the Caesarians to the Janiculumhad not been like to this,--death at the naked sword had been at leastin store then, and now to be plucked in pieces by a mob! Another stonebrushed forward his hair and dashed, not against Demetrius ahead, butagainst his burden. There was--Agias could hear--a low moan; but atthe same instant the fleeing pirate uttered a whistle so loud, sopiercing, that the foremost pursuers came to a momentary stand, inhalf-defined fright, In an instant there came an answering whistlefrom the wharf just ahead. In a twinkling half a dozen torches hadflashed out all over a small vessel, now barely visible in the night,at one of the mooring rings. There was a strange jargon of voicescalling in some Oriental tongue; and Demetrius, as he ran, answeredthem in a like language. Then over Agias's head and into the thickpress of the mob behind, something--arrows no doubt--flew whistling;and there were groans and cries of pain. And Agias found uncouth,bearded men helping or rather casting him over the side of the vessel.The yacht was alive with men: some were bounding ashore to loose thehawsers, others were lifting ponderous oars, still more were shootingfast and cruelly in the direction of the mob, while its lucklessleaders struggled to turn in flight, and the multitude behind,ignorant of the slaughter, was forcing them on to death. Above theclamour, the howls of the mob, the shouts of the sailors, the gratingof oars, and the creaking of cables, rang the voice of Demetrius; andat his word a dozen ready hands put each command into action. Thenarrow, easy-moving yacht caught the current; a long tier of whiteoars glinted in the torchlight, smote the water, and the yacht boundedaway, while a parting flight of arrows left misery and death upon thequay.
Agias, sorely bewildered, clambered on to the little poop. His cousinstood grasping one of the steering paddles; the ruddy lantern lightgleamed on the pirate's frame and face, and made him the perfectpersonification of a sea-king; he was some grandly stern Poseidon, the"Storm-gatherer" and the "Earth-shaker." When he spoke to Agias, itwas in the tone of a despot to a subject.
"The lady is below. Go to her. You are to care for her until I rejoinmy fleet. Tell her my sister shall not be more honoured than she, norotherwise treated. When I am aboard my flag-ship, she shall haveproper maids and attendance. Go!"
Agias obeyed, saying nothing. He found Fabia lying on a rude pallet,with a small bale of purple silk thrust under her head for a pillow.She stared at him with wild, frightened eyes, then round the littlecabin, which, while bereft of all but the most necessary comforts, wasdecorated with bejeweled armour, golden lamps, costly Indiantapestries and ivory--the trophies of half a score of voyages.
"Agias," she faintly whispered, "tell me what has happened since Iawoke from my sleep and found Gabinius's ruffians about me. Bywhatsoever god you reverence most, speak truly!"
Agias fell on his knees, kissed the hem of her robe, kissed her hands.Then he told her all,--as well as his own sorely confused wits wouldadmit. Fabia heard him through to the end, then laid her face betweenher hands.
"Would that--would that they had murdered me as they wished! It wouldbe all over now," she agonized. "I have no wish again to see thelight. Whether they believe me innocent or guilty of the charge islittle; I can never be happy again."
"And why not, dear lady?" cried Agias.
"Don't ask me! I do not know. I do not know anything! Leave me! It isnot fit that you should see me crying like a child. Leave me! Leaveme!"
And thus conjured, Agias went up to the poop once more.
The yacht was flying down the current under her powerful oarage.Demetrius was still standing with his hands fixed on the steeringpaddle; his gaze was drifting along in the plashing water. The shadowyoutlines of the great city had vanished; the yacht was well on her waydown the river to Ostia. Save for the need to avoid a belatedmerchantman anchored in midstream for the night, there was littlerequiring the master's skill. Agias told his cousin how Fabia had senthim away.
"_A!_ Poor lady!" replied the pirate, "perhaps she was the Vestal Isaw a few days since, and envied her, to see the consuls' lictorslowering their rods to her, and all the people making way before her;she, protected by the whole might of this terrible Roman people, andhonoured by them all; and I, a poor outlaw, massing gold whereof Ihave no need, slaying men when I would be their friend, with only anopen sea and a few planks for native land. And now, see how the Fatesbring her down so low, that at my hands she receives hospitality, nay,life!"
"You did not seem so very loath to shed blood to-night," commentedAgias, dryly.
"No, by Zeus!" was his frank answer. "It is easy to send men over theStyx after having been Charon's substitute for so many years. But thetrade was not pleasant to learn, and, bless the gods, you may not haveto be apprenticed to it."
"Then you will not take me with you in your rover's life?" askedAgias, half-disappointedly.
"Apollo forbid! I will take you and the lady to some place where shecan be safe until she may return vindicated, and where you can earn anhonest livelihood, marry a wife of station, in accordance with themeans which I shall give you, dwell peaceably, and be happy."
"But I cannot accept your present," protested the younger Greek.
"_Phui!_ What use have I of money? To paraphrase AEschylus: 'For moreof money than I would is mine.' I can't eat it, or beat swords out ofgold, or repair my ships therewith."
"Then why amass it at all?"
"Why drink when you know it is better to keep sober? I can no morestop plundering than a toper leave a wine-jar. Besides, perhaps someday I may see a road to amnesty open,--and, then, what will not moneydo for a man or woman?"
"Quintus Drusus, my patron, the Lady Cornelia, and the Lady Fabia allare rich. But I would not take up their sorrows for all their wealth."
"True," and Demetrius stared down into the inky water. "It will notgive back those who are gone forever. Achilles could ask Hephaestus forhis armour, but he could not put breath into the body of Patroclus._Plutus_ and _Cratus_[162] are, after all, but weaklings. _A!_ This isan unequal world!"
[162] Riches and strength.
When Agias fell asleep that night, or rather that morning, on a hardseaman's pallet, two names were stirring in his heart, namesinextricably connected: Cornelia, whom he had promised Quintus Drususto save from Ahenobarbus's clutches, and Artemisia. In the morning theyacht, having run her sixteen miles to Ostia, stood out to sea, naughthindering.
* * * * *
It was two months later when Quintus Drusus reentered Rome, no more afugitive, but a trusted staff officer of the lawfully appointeddictator Julius Caesar. He had taken part in a desperate strugglearound Corfinium, where his general had cut off and captured the armywith which Domitius had aimed to check his advance. Drusus had beenseverely wounded, and had not recovered in time to participate in thefutile siege of Brundusium, when Caesar vainly strove to preventPompeius's flight across the sea to Greece. Soon as he wasconvalescent, the young officer had hurried away to Rome; and there hewas met by a story concerning his aunt, whereof no rationalexplanation seemed possible. And when, upon this myster
y, was added atale he received from Baiae, he marvelled, yet dreaded, the more.
A Friend of Cæsar: A Tale of the Fall of the Roman Republic. Time, 50-47 B.C. Page 19