The Roman Traitor, Vol. 2

by Henry William Herbert

  CHAPTER XII

  THE ROMAN FATHER.

  Daughter, He fled. * * * * * That Flight was parricide. MASON’S CARACTACUS.

  The streets of Rome were in fierce and terrible confusion all that daylong, on which the conspirators were arrested, and all the night thatfollowed it.

  Late on the evening of that day, when it was already dark, the Consul hadaddressed the people by torch-light in the forum, delivering that superbspeech, known as the third oration against Catiline.

  In it, he had informed them clearly of all the events which had occurredin the last twenty-four days, since the delivery of his second speech,more especially treating of those which had taken place in the precedingday and night.

  The conspiracy made manifest by overwhelming evidence—the arrest of theambassadors, the seizure of the letters, the acknowledgment of thoseletters for their own by the terrified and bewildered traitors, and lastlythe committal of the ringleaders of the plot to close custody, previous tothe discussion of their fate—such were the wondrous and exciting facts,which he had announced to the assembled multitudes, inviting them to joinhim in a solemn thanksgiving to the Gods, and public celebration, decreedby the Senate to his honor; congratulating them on their escape from adanger so imminent and so general; and calling on them, in conclusion, towatch over the safety of the city by nocturnal guards and patroles, asthey had done so diligently during all that emergency.

  The thundering acclamations, which greeted the close of that luculent andpowerful exposition, the zeal with which the concourse hailed himunanimously Savior of Rome and Father of his country, the eagerness ofaffection with which all ranks and ages thronged around him, expressingtheir gratitude and their devotion, by all means imaginable, provedsatisfactorily that, whatever might have been the result had massacre,plunder, and conflagration fallen upon them unawares, the vast mass of thepeople were now loyal, and true to their country.

  The seven hills never had resounded with louder din of civic triumph, thanthey did on that glorious night; not when the noble Scipio triumphed forCarthage overthrown; not when the mighty Marius,(10) begirt with a host ofcaptives and all the pomp of war, dismounted, happiest of men, from hisTeutonic Car.

  The streets were as light as day with the glare of lamps, and torches, andbonfires blazing on all the circumjacent heights, as with tremendousshouts, and unpremeditated triumph, the mighty multitude escorted thegreat Consul home, not to his own house, where the rites of the GoodGoddess were in celebration, and whither no male could be admitted, but tohis next-door neighbor’s mansion, in which he and his friends wereentertained with more than regal splendor.

  What could have been more glorious, what more unmixed with any touch ofbitterness, or self reproach, than Cicero’s position on that evening?

  His country saved from miseries unparalleled—saved by himself alone—no aidof rival generals, no force of marshalled hosts to detract from thegreatness of his own achievement—all the strife borne, all the successwon, all the glory conquered by the force of his own genius, of his ownmoral resolution. No blood of friends had been spilt to buy that conquest,and wring its tribute of anguished sorrow from eyes bright with the mixedexcitement of regret and triumph—no widow’s tears, no orphan’s sighs, hadmounted heavenward amid those joyous conclamations.

  With no sword drawn, with no army arrayed, alone in his peaceful toga, hehad conquered the world’s peace; and, for that night at least, he enjoyed,as his great merit’s meed, a world’s gratitude.

  All night long had the streets been crowded with fond and ardent throngsof all ages, sexes, ranks, conditions, questioning, cheering, carolling,carousing—all, in appearance at least, unanimous in joy; for none dared insuch an ebullition of patriotic feeling to display any disaffection.

  And the morrow dawned upon Rome, still noisy, still alive with tumultuousjoy, still filled, through the whole area within its walls, by thousands,and tens of thousands, hoarse with shouting, weary almost of revelling,haggard and pale from the excess of excitement.

  Such was the scene, which the metropolis of the world presented, when atthe second hour of the morning, on the day following the arrest ofLentulus, a small party consisting of about fifty horsemen, conducting aprisoner, with his arms bound behind his back, gagged, and with the lappetof his cloak so disposed as to conceal his face, entered the Quirinalgate, from the direction of the Flaminian way.

  They were the clients of the Fulvian House, leading the miserable Aulushomeward, under the command of his cousin. The horses were jaded, andbleeding from many a spur gall; the men were covered with dust and sweat;and several of their number were wounded; but, what at once struck theminds of all who beheld them, was that their faces, although stern andresolute, were grave, dejected and sad, while still it would seem thatthey were returning in triumph from some successful expedition.

  At any other time, the entrance of such a party would have awakened muchastonishment and surprise, perhaps might have created a tumult among theexcitable and easily agitated Romans; but now so strangely had the popularmind been stimulated during the last days, that they either paid noattention to the train at all, or observed, pointing to the prisoner, thatthere went another of the parricides.

  Just, however, as the new-comers entered the gate, another armed band metthem, moving outward; the latter being a full troop, thirty in number, ofcavalry of the seventh legion, with a banner, and clarion, and PaullusArvina at their head, in complete armor, above which he wore a richscarlet cloak, or _paludamentum_, floating over his left shoulder.

  The face of the young man was as pale as that of a corpse, his eyes weresunken, and surrounded by dark circles, his cheeks were hollow, and amongthe short black curls, which were visible beneath the brazen peak of hissculptured casque, there was one as white as snow.

  Since the dread news had reached him of Julia’s abduction, he had notclosed his eyes for a moment; and, although scarcely eight and forty hourshad elapsed, since he received the fatal intelligence, he had grown olderby many years.

  No one, who looked upon him, would have judged him to be younger thanthirty-five or forty years, when he was in truth little more than half wayon life’s journey toward the second period.

  There was a cold firm determination too written on all his features, suchas is rarely seen in young men; and the wild vacillating light which usedto flicker so changefully over his fine face, was lost in an expression ofmournful and despairing resolution.

  Still his attitude on his charger’s back was fine and spirited; his headwas proudly erect; and his voice, as from time to time, he uttered somecommand to his troopers, was clear, steady, and sonorous.

  So much indeed was he altered, that Caius Fulvius, who knew him well,gazed at him doubtfully for half a minute ere he addressed him, as the twotroops came almost into contact, the mounted clients of the Fulvian House,withdrawing to the wayside to allow the legionaries to pass.

  Assured at last that it was indeed Arvina, he called out as he passed—

  "Tell me, I pray thee, Paullus, what means this concourse in the streets?hath aught of ill befallen?"

  "Ha! is it thou, Caius Fulvius?" replied Arvina. "I will speak with theeanon. Lead the men forward," he added, turning round in his saddle to thesecond Decurion of his troop, "my good Drusus. I will overtake you, ereyou shall reach the Mulvian bridge." Here wheeling his horse to the sideof the young nobleman, "Where hast thou been, Caius, that thou hast notheard? All the conspirators have been arrested. Lentulus, and Cethegus,Gabinius, Statilius, and Cæparius! They have confessed their letters—theGaulish ambassadors, and Titus Volturcius have given evidence againstthem. The senate is debating even now on their doom."

  "Indeed! indeed! when did all this fall out?" enquired the other evidentlyin great astonishment.

  "Yesterday morning they were taken. The previous night, in the thirdwatch, the ambassadors were stopped on the Mulvian bridge, and thetreasonable papers found on Volturcius."

 
"Ha! this is indeed news!" cried Caius. "What will befall Lentulus and therest? Do men know anything!"

  "Death!" answered Arvina gravely.

  "Death! art thou certain? A Prætor, a consular of Rome! and all the othersSenators! Death! Paullus?"

  "Death!" replied the other still more solemnly, than before. "Yetmethinks! that rather should be a boon, than the fit penalty of suchguilt! But where have you been, that you are ignorant of all this, andwhom have you there?"

  Caius Fulvius shook his head sorrowfully, and a deep groan burst from thelips of the muffled man, a groan of rage mingled with hate and terror.

  "I will tell _thee_, Arvina," said the young man, after a moment’s pause,during which Paullus had been gazing with a singular, and even to himselfincomprehensible, emotion at the captive horseman. "We have been sent tofetch _him_ back," and he pointed to his wretched cousin, "as he fled tojoin Catiline. We overtook him nigh to Volsinii."

  "Who—who—" exclaimed Arvina in a terrible hoarse voice—"By all the Gods!who is he?—"

  "Aulus—"

  "Ha! villain! villain! He shall die by my hand!" burst from Arvina’s lipswith a stifled cry, and drawing his sword as he spoke, he made toward him.

  But Caius Fulvius, and several others of the clients threw themselves intothe way, and the former said quietly but very firmly, "No—no, my Paullus,that must not be. His life is devoted to a baser doom; nor must his bloodbe shed by a hand so noble! But wherefore—Ha!" he exclaimed, interruptinghimself in mid speech. "Ha! Julia, I remember—I remember—would to the GodsI could have rescued her."

  For one second’s space Paullus Arvina glared upon the speaker, as if hewould have stabbed him where he sat on his horse motionless andunresisting; then, shaking his head with an abrupt impatient motion as ifto rid himself of some fixed image or impression, he said,

  "You are right, Caius. But tell me! by the Gods! was she with him? saw youaught of her, as you took him?"

  "She was in his power, my poor Paullus, as we were told at Sutrium; butwhen we overtook him, he had sent forward all his band but a small party,who fought so hard and handled us so roughly, that, he once taken, wedared not set on them again. But, be of good cheer, my Paullus. There is agallant youth on the track of them; the same youth who went to save her atthe Latin villa but arrived too late; the same who brought us the tidingsof yon villain’s flight, who led us in pursuit of them. He follows still,and swears that he will save her! The Gods grant it?"

  "A youth, ha! who is he?"

  "I know not. He refused to tell us, still saying that he was nameless. Aslight slender black-eyed youth. Exceeding dark-complexioned, but handsomewithal. You would have said, to look on him, he would lack strength toride an hour; yet, by the God of Faith! he was in the saddle incessantlyfor nearly forty hours, and shewed less weariness than our sturdiest men.Never saw I such fiery will, and resolute endurance, in one so young andfeeble."

  "Strange!" muttered Paullus—"strange! why came he not to me?"

  "He did go to your mansion, but found you not. You were absent on statebusiness—then came he to the father of this demon, who sent us in pursuit,and we have, as I tell you, succeeded. May you do so likewise! He chargedme to say to you ’there was one on her track who would die to save her.’"

  "’Tis passing strange! I may not even guess who it should be," he addedmusing, "the Gods give him strength. But tell me, Caius, can I, by anyspeed, overtake them?"

  "I fear me not, Paullus, ere they have reached the camp. They were nigh toVolsinii at noon yesterday; of course they will not loiter on the way."

  "Alas!" replied the unhappy youth, "Curses! curses! ten thousand curses onhis head!" and he glanced savagely upon Aulus as he spoke—"to what doom doye lead him?"

  "To an indignant father’s pitiless revenge!"

  "May he perish ill!—may his unburied spirit wander and wail forever uponthe banks of Acheron, unpardoned and despairing!"

  And turning suddenly away, as if afraid to trust himself longer in sightof his mortal enemy, he plunged his spurs deep into his charger’s flank,and gallopped away in order to overtake his troop, with which he wasproceeding to join the army which Antonius the consul and Petreius hislieutenant were collecting on the sea-coast of Etruria in order to actagainst Catiline.

  Meanwhile the others rode forward on their gloomy errand toward theFulvian House.

  They reached its doors, and at the trampling of their horses’ feet, beforeany summons had been given, with a brow dark as night and a colddetermined eye, the aged Senator came forth to meet his faithful clients.

  At the first glance he cast upon the party, the old man saw that they hadsucceeded; and a strange expression of satisfaction mixed with agonycrossed his stern face.

  "It is well!" he said gravely. "Ye have preserved the honor of my house. Igive ye thanks, my friends. Well have ye done your duty! It remains onlythat I do my own. Bring in your prisoner, Caius, and ye, my friends, leaveus, I pray you, to our destiny."

  The young man to whom he addressed himself, leaped down from his horsewith one or two of the clients, and, unbuckling the thong which fastenedhis cousin’s legs under the belly of the beast he rode, lifted him to theground; for in a sort of sullen spite, although unable to resist, he movedneither hand nor foot, more than a marble statue would have done; and whenhe stood on the pavement, he made no step toward the door, and it wasnecessary to carry him bodily up the steps of the colonnade, and throughthe vestibule into the atrium.

  In that vast hall a fearful group was assembled. On a large arm chair atthe upper end sat an aged matron, perfectly blind, with hair as white assnow, and a face furrowed with wrinkles, the work of above a century. Shewas the mother of the Senator, the grandmother of the young culprit. Ather right hand stood another large chair vacant, the seat of the master ofthe house; and at her left sat another lady, already far advanced inyears, yet stately, firm, and unflinching—the wretched, but proud mother.Behind her stood three girls of various ages, the youngest not countingabove sixteen years, all beautiful, and finely made, but pale as death,with their superb dark eyes dilated and their white lips mute with strangehorror.

  Lower down the hall toward the door, and not far removed from the altar ofthe household gods, near the impluvium, stood a black wooden block, with ahuge broad axe lying on it, and a grim-visaged slave leaning against thewall with folded arms in a sort of stoical indifference—the butcher of thefamily. By his trade, he little cared whether he practised it on beasts ormen; and perhaps he looked forward with some pleasurable feelings to thedealing of a blow against one of the proud lords of Empire.

  No one could look upon that mute and sad assemblage without perceivingthat some dread domestic tragedy was in process; but how dreadful no onecould conceive, who was not thoroughly acquainted with the strange andtremendous rigor of the old Roman Law.

  The face of the mother was terribly convulsed, as she heard the clanginghoof tramps at the door; and in an agony of unendurable suspense she laidher hand upon her heart, as if to still its wild throbbing.

  Roman although she was, and trained from her childhood upward in thestrictest school of Stoicism, he, on whom they were gathered there to sitin judgment, was still her first-born, her only son; and she could not butremember in this hour of wo the unutterable pleasure with which she hadlistened to the first small cry of him, then so innocent and weak andgentle, who now so strong in manhood and so fierce in sin, stood living onthe verge of death.

  But now as the clanging of the horse hoofs ceased, different soundssucceeded; and in a moment the anxious ears of the wife and mother coulddiscern the footsteps of the proud husband, and the fallen child.

  They entered the hall, old Aulus Fulvius striding with martial steps and aresolute yet solemn brow toward the chair of judgment, like to somewarlike Flamen about to execute the wrath of the Gods upon his fatedvictim; the son shuffling along, with downcast eyes and an irregular pace,supported on one hand by his detested cousin, and on the other by an agedfreedman of th
e house.

  The head of the younger Aulus was yet veiled with the lappet of his gown;so that he had seen none of those who were then assembled, none of thefatal apparatus of his fore-ordered doom.

  But now, as the old man took his seat, he made a movement with his hand,and Caius, obedient to the gesture, lifted the woollen covering from theson’s brow, and released his hold of his arm. At a second wafture, thenephew and the freedman both departed, glad to be spared the witnessing ascene so awful as that which was about to ensue.

  The sound of their departing footsteps fell with an icy chill on the stoutheart of the young conspirator; and although he hated the man, who hadjust left the room, more than any living being, he would yet willinglyhave detained him at that crisis.

  He felt that even hatred was less to be apprehended than the cold harddecision of the impassive unrelenting father, in whose heart everysentiment was dead but those of justice and of rigorous honor.

  "Aulus, lift up your eyes!"

  And, for the first time since he had entered the hall, the culprit lookedup, and gazed with a wild and haggard eye on the familiar objects whichmet his glance on every side; and yet, familiar as they were, all seemedto be strange, altered, and unusual.

  The statues of his dead ancestors, as they stood, grim and uncouth intheir antique sculpture, between the pillars of the wall, seemed to dilatein size, and, become gigantic, to frown stern contempt on their degeneratedescendant. The grotesque forms of the Etruscan household Gods appeared togibber at him; the very flames upon the altar, before them, cast luridgleams and ominous to his distempered fancy.

  It was singular, that the last thing which he observed was that, whichwould have been the first to attract the notice of a stranger—the block,the axe, and the sullen headsman.

  A quick shudder ran through every limb and artery of his body, and heturned white and livid. His spirit was utterly appalled and broken; hisaspect was that of a sneaking culprit, a mean craven.

  "Aulus, lift up your eyes!"

  And he did lift them, with a strong effort, to meet the fixed andsearching gaze of his father; but so cold, so penetrating was that gaze,that his glance fell abashed, and he trembled from head to foot, and camewell nigh to falling on the earth in his great terror.

  "Aulus, art thou afraid to die?—thou, who hast sworn so deeply to dyethine hands in _my_ gore, in the gore of all who loved their country? Artthou afraid to die, stabber, adulterer, poisoner, ravisher, parricide,Catilinarian? Art thou afraid to die? I should have thought, when thoudidst put on such resolves, thou wouldst have cast aside all that ishuman! Once more, I say, art thou afraid to die?"

  "To die!" he exclaimed in husky tones, which seemed to stick in hisparched throat—"to die! to be nothing!"

  And again the convulsive shudder ran through his whole frame.

  But ere the Senator could open his lips to reply, the blind old grandamasked, in a voice so clear and shrill that its accents seemed to piercethe very souls of all who heard it—

  "Is he a coward, Aulus Fulvius? Is he a coward, too, as well as a villain?The first of our race, is he a coward?"

  "I fear it," answered the old man gloomily. "But, cowardly or brave, hemust disgrace our house no farther. His time is come! his fate cries outfor him! Aulus must die! happy to die without the taint of public anddetected infamy—happy to die unseen in his father’s house, not in the baseand sordid Tullianum."

  "Mother! mother!" exclaimed the wretched youth in a paroxysm of agony."Sisters, speak for me—plead for me! I am young, oh, too young to die!"

  "The mother, whom thou hast sworn to murder—the sisters, whose virginyouth thou hast agreed to yield to the licentious arms of thy foulconfederates!" answered the old man sternly; while the women, withblanched visages, convulsed with agony, were silent, even to that appeal.

  "Speak, speak! will you not speak for me, for your first-born son, mymother?"

  "Farewell!"—the cold word came forth from her pallid lips, with a mightyeffort—"Farewell, unhappy!" And, unable to endure the dreadful scene anylonger, she arose from her seat, and laid her hand on the blind woman’sarm. "Come," she said, "mother of my lord! our task is ended! his doomspoken! Let us go hence!"

  But the youngest sister, overcoming her fear of the stern father, hermodesty of youth, and her sense of high-strained honor, cast herself atthe old man’s feet, and clung about his knees, crying with a shrillpainful cry—

  "Oh, father! by your right hand! by your gray head! by all the Gods! Iimplore you, pardon, spare him!"

  "Up! up! base girl!" cried the old man; "wouldst have the infamy of ourhouse made public? and thou, most miserable boy, spare her, thou, thisdisgrace, and me this anguish—veil thy head! bow thee to the block! bidthe slave do his office! At least, Aulus, if thou hast not lived, at leastdie, a Roman!"

  The second of the girls, while her sister had made that fruitless appealto the father’s mercy, walked steadily to her brother, kissed his browwith a tearless eye, and in a low voice bade him "Farewell for ever!" thenturned away, impassive as her father, and followed her mother and theblind grandam from the fatal hall.

  But the third daughter stepped up to the faltering youth with a hecticflush on her cheek, and a fitful fire in her eye, and whispered in hisear,

  "Aulus, my brother! unhappy one, it is vain! Thou _must_ die, for ourhouse’s honor! Die, then, my brother, as it becomes a Fulvius, bravely,and by a free hand! Which of our house perished ever by a base weapon, ora slavish blow? Thou wert brave ever,—be brave now, oh! my brother!"

  And at her words, his courage, his pride, rallied to his aid; and he mether eye with a flashing glance, and answered in a firm tone, "I _will_,sister, I will die as becomes a Roman, as becomes a Fulvius! But how shallI die by a free hand, bound as I am, and weaponless?"

  "Thus, brother," she replied, drawing a short keen knife from the bosom ofher linen stola; and severing the bonds which confined his elbows, sheplaced it in his hands. "It is keen! it will not fail you! it is the lastgift of the last who loves you, Aulus!"

  "The best gift! Farewell, sister!"

  "Farewell, Aulus, for ever!" And she too kissed him on the brow; and asshe kissed him, a hot tear fell upon his cheek. Then, turning toward hersister who was still clinging to the old man’s knees, embarrassing himwith useless prayers, so that he had observed none of that by-play, shesaid to her firmly,

  "Come, little girl, come! It is fruitless! Bid him farewell! he isprepared to die! he cannot survive his honor!"

  And she drew her away, screaming and struggling, with eyes deluged intears, from the apartment wherein the Senator now stood face to face withhis first born, the slave alone present as a witness of the last struggle.

  But Aulus had by this time recovered all the courage of his race, all hisown natural audacity; and waving his hand with a proud gesture toward theslave, he exclaimed in tones of severe authority:

  "Dismiss that wretched slave, Aulus Fulvius. Ready I am to die—nay! I wishnot to live! But it becomes not _thee_ to doom me to such a death, nor_me_ so to die! Noble I am, and free; and by a free hand will I die, and anoble weapon!"

  There was so much command, so much high pride, and spirit, in his tone,his expression, and his gesture, that an answering chord was struck in themind of the old man; so that without reply, and without evincing anysurprise at seeing the youth’s arms unbound, he waved a signal to theslave to depart from the atrium.

  Then the youth knelt down on one knee before the altar, and cried aloud ina solemn voice—

  "Pardon me, ye Gods of our house, for this dishonor which I have broughtupon you; absolve me, ye grand ancestors; mine eyes are open now, and Iperceive the sin, the shame, the sorrow of my deeds! Absolve me, ye greatGods, and ye glorious men; and thou, my father, think sometimes of theson, whom it repented of his guilt, but whom it pained not"—he raised hisarm aloft, and the bright knife-blade glittered in the rays of thealtar-fire, when the old Senator sprang forward, with all his featuresworking strangely, and cried "Ho
ld!"

  It might be that he had relented; but if it were so, it was too late; for,finishing his interrupted sentence with these words—

  —"to die for his house’s honor!"—

  the young man struck himself one quick blow on the breast, with a hand sosure and steady, that the knife pierced through his ribs as if they hadbeen paper, and clove his heart asunder, standing fixed hilt-deep in hischest; while, without word, or groan, or sigh or struggle, he dropped flaton his back beside the _impluvium_, and was dead in less time than it hastaken to describe the deed.

  The father looked on for a moment calmly; and then said in a cool hardvoice, "It is well! it is well! The Gods be thanked! he died as a Romanshould!"

  Then he composed his limbs, and threw a white cloth which lay nigh theblock, over the face and body of the wretched youth.

  But, as he turned to leave the atrium, nature was too strong for hisphilosophy, for his pride; and crying out, "My son! my son! He was yetmine own son! mine own Aulus!" and burying his face in his toga, he burstinto a paroxysm of loud grief, and threw himself at length on the deadbody: father and son victims alike to the inexorable Roman honor!