The Roman Traitor, Vol. 2

by Henry William Herbert

  CHAPTER IV.

  THE CRISIS.

  He is about it. The doors are open. MACBETH.

  The morning had scarcely dawned, after that dismal and tempestuous night,when three men were observed by some of the earlier citizens, passing upthe Sacred Way, toward the Cerolian Place.

  It was not so much that the earliness of the hour attracted the notice ofthese spectators—for the Romans were a matutinal people, even in theirmost effeminate and luxurious ages, and the sun found few loiterers intheir chambers, when he came forth from his oriental gates—as that themanner and expression of these men themselves were singular, and such asmight well excite suspicion.

  They all walked abreast, two clad in the full garb of Senators, and one inthe distinctive dress of Roman knighthood. No one had heard them speakaloud, nor seen them whisper, one to the other. They moved straightonward, steadily indeed and rather slowly, but with something ofconsciousness in their manner, glancing furtively around them from beneaththeir bent brows, and sometimes even casting their eyes over theirshoulders, as if to see whether they were followed.

  At about a hundred paces after these three, not however accompanying them,or attached to their party, so far at least as appearances are considered,two large-framed fellows, clothed in the dark gray frocks worn by slavesand gladiators, came strolling in the same direction.

  These men had the auburn hair, blue eyes, and massive, if not stolid castof features peculiar to northern races, at that time the conquered slaves,though destined soon to be the victors, of Rome’s gigantic power.

  When the first three reached the corner of the next block of buildings, tothe corner of that magnificent street called the Carinœ, they paused for afew moments; and, after looking carefully about them, to mark whether theywere observed or not, held a short whispered conversation, which theirstern faces, and impassioned gestures seemed to denote momentous.

  While they were thus engaged, the other two came sauntering along, andpassed them by, apparently unheeded, and without speaking, or salutingthem.

  Those three men were the knight Caius Cornelius, a friend and distantkinsman of Cethegus, who was the second of the number, and LuciusVargunteius, a Senator, whose name has descended only to posterity,through the black infamy of the deed, which he was even at that momentmeditating.

  Spurred into action by the menaces and violence of Catiline, who had nowresolved to go forth and commence open warfare from the entrenched campprepared in the Appenines, by Caius Manlius, these men had volunteered, onthe previous night, at a second meeting held in the house of Læca, tomurder Cicero, with their own hands, during his morning levee.

  To this end, they had now come forth thus early, hoping so to anticipatethe visit of his numerous clients, and take him at advantage, unpreparedand defenceless.

  Three stout men were they, as ever went forth armed and determined forpremeditated crime; stout in frame, stout of heart, invulnerable by anyphysical apprehension, unassailable by any touch of conscience, pitiless,fearless, utterly depraved.

  Yet there was something in their present enterprise, that half dauntedthem. Something in the character of the man, whom they were preparing toassassinate—something of undefined feeling, suggesting to them thecertainty of the whole world’s reproach and scorn through everlastingages, however present success "might trammel up the consequence."

  Though they would not have confessed it to their own hearts, they werereluctant toward their task; and this unadmitted reluctance it was, whichled them to pause and parley, under the show of arranging their schemes,which had in truth been fully organized on the preceding night.

  They were too far committed, however, to recede; and it is probable thatno one of them, although their hearts were full almost to suffocation, asthey neared the good Consul’s door, had gone so far as to think ofwithdrawing his hand from the deed of blood.

  The outer door of the vestibule was open; and but one slave was stationedin the porch; an old man quite unarmed, not having so much even as aporter’s staff, who was sitting on a stone bench, in the morning sunshine.

  As the conspirators ascended the marble steps, which gave access to thevestibule, and entered the beautiful Tuscan colonnade, the two Germans,who had stopped and looked back for a moment, seeing them pass in, set offas hard as they could run, through an adjoining street toward the house ofCatiline, which was not very far distant.

  It was not long ere they reached it, and entered without question orhindrance, as men familiar and permitted.

  In a small room, adjoining the inner peristyle, the master of the housewas striding to and fro across the tesselated floor, in a state ofperturbation, extreme even for him; whose historian has described him withbloodless face, and evil eyes, irregular and restless motions, and theimpress of frantic guilt, ever plain to be seen in his agitated features.

  Aurelia Orestilla sat near him, on a low cushioned stool, with her superbItalian face livid and sicklied by unusual dread. Her hands lay tightlyclasped upon her knee—her lips were as white as ashes. Her large lustrouseyes, burning and preternaturally distended, were fixed on the haggardface of her husband, and followed him, as he strode up and down the roomin impotent anxiety and expectation.

  Yet she, privy as she was to all his blackest councils, the instigator andrewarder of his most hideous crime, knowing the hell of impotent agonythat was consuming his heart, she dared not address him with any words ofhope or consolation.

  At such a crisis all ordinary phrases of comfort or cheering love, seembut a mockery to the spirit, which can find no rest, until the doubts thatharass it are ended; and this she felt to be the case, and, had her owntorturing expectation allowed her to frame any speech to soothe him, shewould not have ventured on its utterance, certain that it would call fortha torrent of imprecation on her head, perhaps a burst of violence againsther person.

  The very affections of the wicked, are strangely mixed at times, with morediscordant elements; and it would have been a hard question to solve,whether that horrible pair most loved, or hated one another.

  The woman’s passions, strange to relate, had been kindled at times, by thevery cruelty and fury, which at other moments made her almost detest him.There was a species of sublimity in the very atrocity of Catiline’swickedness, which fascinated her morbid and polluted fancy; and she almostadmired the ferocity which tortured her, and from which, alone of mortalills, she shrank appalled and unresisting.

  And Catiline loved her, as well as he could love anything, loved her themore because she too, in some sort, had elicited his admiration; for shehad crossed him many times, and once braved him, and, alone of humanbeings, he had not crushed her.

  They were liker to mated tigers, which even in their raptures ofaffection, rend with the fang, and clutch with the unsheathed talon, untilthe blood and anguish testify the fury of their passion, than to beings ofhuman mould and nature.

  Suddenly the traitor stopped short in his wild and agitated walk, andseemed to listen intently, although no sound came to the ears of thewoman, who was no less on the alert than he, for any stir or rumor.

  "It is"—he said at length, clasping his hands above his head—"it is thestep of Arminius, the trusty gladiator—do you not hear it, Orestilla?"

  "No," she replied, shaking her head doubtfully. "There is no sound at all.My ear is quicker of hearing, too, than yours, Catiline, and if there wereany step, I should be first to mark it."

  "Tush! woman!" he made answer, glaring upon her fiercely. "It is my_heart_ that hears it."

  "You have a heart, then!" she replied bitterly, unable even at that timeto refrain from taunting him.

  "And a hand also, and a dagger! and, by Hell and all its furies! I knownot why I do not flesh it in you. I will one day."

  "No, you will not," she answered very quietly.

  "And wherefore not? I have done many a worse deed in my day. The Godswould scarce punish me for that slaughter; and men might well call itjustice.—Wherefore not, I say? Do
you think I so doat on your beauty, thatI cannot right gladly spare you?"

  "Because," answered the woman, meeting his fixed glare, with a glance asmeaning and as fiery, "because, when I find that you meditate it, I willact quickest. I know a drug or two, and an unguent of very sovereignvirtue."

  "Ha! ha!" The reckless profligate burst into a wild ringing laugh oftriumphant approbation. "Ha! ha! thou mightst have given me a betterreason. Where else should I find such a tigress? By all the Gods! it isyour clutch and claws that I prize, more than your softest and mostrapturous caress! But hist! hist! now—do you not hear that step?"

  "I do—I do," she replied, clasping her hands again, which she hadunclinched in her anger—"and it _is_ Arminius’ step! I was wrong to crossthee, Catiline; and thou so anxious! we shall hear now—we shall hear all."

  Almost as she spoke, the German gladiator rushed into the room, heated andpanting from his swift race; and, without any sign of reverence or anysalutation, exclaimed abruptly,

  "Catiline, it is over, ere this time! I saw them enter his house!"

  The woman uttered a low choking shriek, her face flushed crimson, and thenagain turned paler than before, and she fell back on her cushioned seat,swooning with joy at the welcome tidings.

  But Catiline flung both his arms abroad toward heaven, and cried aloud—"YeGods, for once I thank ye! if there be Gods indeed!" he added, with asneer—"thou sawest them enter, ha?—thou art not lying?—By all the furies!If you deceive me, I will take care that you see nothing more in thisworld."

  "Catiline, these eyes saw them!"

  "At length! at length!" he exclaimed, his eye flashing, and his wholecountenance glowing with fiendish animation, "and yet curses upon it!—thatI could not slay him—that I should owe to any other hand my vengeance onmy victim. Thou hast done well—ha! here is gold, Arminius! the last gold Iown—but what of that, to-morrow—to-morrow, I will have millions! Away!away! bold heart, arouse your friends and followers—to arms, to arms, cryhavoc through the streets, and liberty and vengeance!"

  While he was speaking yet, the door was again opened, and Cethegus enteredwith the others, dull, gloomy, and crest-fallen; but Catiline was in astate of excitement so tremendous, that he saw nothing but the men.

  At one bound he reached Cethegus, and catching him by both hands—"How!" heexclaimed—"How was it?—quick, tell me, quick! Did he die hard? Did he die,conscious, in despair, in anguish?—Tell me, tell me, you tortured him inthe slaying—tell me, he died a coward, howling and cursing fate, andknowing that I, _I_ slew him, and—speak Cethegus?—speak, man! By the Gods!you are pale! silent!—these are not faces fit for triumph! speak, man, Isay, how died he?—show me his blood, Cethegus! you have not wiped it fromyour dagger, give me the blade, that I may kiss away the preciousdeath-drops."

  So rapidly and impetuously had he spoken, heaping query on query, thatCethegus could not have answered, if he would. But, to say the truth, hewas in little haste to do so. When Catiline ceased, however, which he didat length, from actual want of breath to enquire farther, he answered in alow smothered voice.

  "He is not dead at all—he refused"——

  "Not dead!" shrieked Catiline, for it was a shriek, though articulate, andone so piercing that it roused Aurelia from her swoon of joy—"Not dead!Yon villain swore that he saw you enter—not dead!" he repeated, halfincredulously—"By heaven and hell! I believe you are jesting with me! Tellme that you have lied, and I—I—I will worship you, Cethegus."

  "His porter refused us entrance, and, as the door was opened, we saw inthe Atrium the slaves of his household, and half a hundred of his clients,all armed from head to foot, with casque and corslet, pilum, broad-sword,and buckler. And, to complete the tale, as we returned into the streetbaffled and desperate, a window was thrown open in the banquet-hall above,and we might see the Consul, with Cato, and Marcellus, and Scipio, and ascore of Consulars beside, gazing upon us in all the triumph of security,in all the confidence of success. We are betrayed, that is plain—our plansare all known as soon as they are taken, all frustrated ere acted! All islost, Catiline, for what remains to do?"

  "To dare!" answered the villain, all undaunted even by this reverse—"and,if need be, to die—but to despair, never!"

  "But who can be the traitor?—where shall we look to find him?"

  "Look there," exclaimed Catiline, pointing to the German gladiator, whostood all confounded and chap-fallen. "Look there, and you shall see one;and see him punished too! What ho! without there, ho! a dozen of you, ifyou would shun the lash!"

  And, at the summons, ten or twelve slaves and freedmen rushed into theroom in trepidation, almost in terror, so savage was the temper of thelord whom they served, and so merciless his wrath, at the most trivialfault or error.

  "Drag that brute, hence!" he said, waving his hand toward the unhappygladiator, "put out his eyes, fetter him foot and hand, and cast him tothe congers in the fish-pond."

  Without a moment’s pause or hesitation, they cast themselves upon theirmiserable comrade; and, though he struggled furiously, and struck down twoor three of the foremost, and shouted himself hoarse, in fruitless effortsto explain, he was secured, and bound and gagged, within a shorter timethan is required to describe it.

  This done, one of the freedmen looked toward his dreaded master, andasked, with pale lips, and a faltering voice,

  "Alive, Catiline?"

  "Alive—and hark you, Sirrah, fasten his head above the water, that he dienot too speedily. Those biggest congers will lug him manfully, Cethegus;we will go see the sport, anon. It will serve to amuse us, after thisdisappointment. There! away with him, begone!"

  The miserable creature struggled desperately in his bonds, but in vain;and strove so terribly to speak, in despite his gag, that his face turnedalmost black, from the blood which rushed to every pore; but no soundcould he utter, as he was dragged away, save a deep-mouthed groan, whichwas drowned by the laughter of the remorseless wretches, who gazed on hisanguish with fiendish merriment; among which, hideous to relate, thethrilling sounds of Aurelia’s silvery and contagious mirth were distinctlyaudible.

  "He will take care to see more truly in Hades!" said Catiline, with hissardonic smile, as he was dragged out of the room, by his appalled andtrembling fellows. "But now to business. Tell me, did you display anyweapon? or do aught, that can be proved, to show your intent on theConsul?"

  "Nothing, my Catiline," replied Cethegus, firmly.

  "Nothing, indeed, Cethegus? By all our hopes! deceive me not!"

  "By your head! nothing, Catiline."

  "Then I care nothing for the failure!" answered the other. "Keep goodhearts, and wear smiling faces! I will kill him myself to-morrow, if, likethe scorpion, I must die in the deed."

  "Try it not, Catiline. You will but fail—and"——

  "Fail! who ever knew me fail, in vengeance?"

  "No one!" said Orestilla—"and no one can hinder you of it. No! not theGods!"

  "There are no Gods!" exclaimed the Traitor, "and if there be, it were allone—I defy them!"

  "Cicero says there is ONE, they tell me," said Cethegus, half mocking,half in earnest—"and he is very wise."

  "Very!" replied the other, with his accustomed sneer—"Therefore that ONEmay save him—if he can!"

  "The thing is settled," cried Aurelia Orestilla, "I told him yesterday heought to do it, himself—I should not be content, unless Catiline’s handdealt him the death blow, Catiline’s eye gloated upon him in thedeath-struggle, Catiline’s tongue jeered him in the death-pang!"

  "You love him dearly, Orestilla," said Cethegus.

  "And clearly he has earned it," she replied.

  "By Venus! I would give half my hopes, to see him kiss you."

  "And I, if my lips had the hydra’s venom. But come," she added, with awreathed smile and a beaming eye, "Let us go see the fishes eat yonvarlet; else shall we be too late for the sport."

  "Rare sport!" said Cethegus, "I have not seen a man eaten, by a tigereven,
these six months past; and by a fish, I think, never!"

  "The fish do it better," replied Catiline—"Better, and cleaner—they leavethe prettiest skeleton you can imagine—they are longer about it, you willsay—True; but I do not grudge the time."

  "No! no! the longer, the merrier!" said Aurelia, laughing melodiously—"Thelast fellow I saw given to the tigers, had his head crushed like anut-shell, by a single blow. He had not time to shriek even once. Therewas no fun in that, you know."

  "None indeed," said Cethegus—"but I warrant you this German will howlgloriously, when the fish are at him." "Yes! yes!" exclaimed the lovelywoman, clapping her hands joyously. "We must have the gag removed, to givefree vent to his music. Come, come, I am dying to see him."

  "Some one must die, since Cicero did not."

  "Happy fellow this, if he only knew it, to give his friends so muchpleasure!"

  "One of them such a fair lady too!"

  "Will there be more pleasure, think you, in seeing the congers eat thegladiator, or in eating the congers afterward?"

  "Oh! no comparison! one can eat fat congers always."

  "We have the advantage of them truly, for they cannot always eat fatgladiators."

  And they walked away with as much glee and expectation, to the scene ofagony and fiendish torture, vitiated by the frightful exhibitions of thecircus and the arena, as men in modern days would feel, in going to enjoythe fictitious sorrows of some grand tragedian.

  Can it be that the contemplation of human wo, in some form or other, is inall ages grateful to poor corrupt humanity?