The Roman Traitor, Vol. 2

by Henry William Herbert

  CHAPTER XV.

  THE CAMP IN THE APPENNINES.

  With that he gave his able horse the head. HENRY IV.

  There is a wild gorge in the very summit of the Appennines, not quitemidway between Florence and Pistoia, the waters of which, shed indifferent directions, flow on the one hand tributaries to the Po, and onthe other to the Arno, swelling the Adriatic, and the Mediterranean seas.

  The mountains rise abruptly in bare crags, covered here and there by a lowgrowth of myrtle and wild olives, on either hand this gorge, quiteinaccessible to any large array of armed men, though capable of beingtraversed by solitary foresters or shepherds. Below, the hills falldownward in a succession of vast broken ridges, in places rocky and almostperpendicular, in places swelling into rounded knolls, feathered with darkrich forests of holm oak and chesnut.

  In the highest part of this gorge, where it spreads out into a littleplain, perched like the eyry of some ravenous bird of prey, the camp ofCatiline was pitched, on the second evening after the execution of hiscomrades.

  Selected with rare judgment, commanding all the lower country, and thedescent on one hand into the Val d’Arno and thence to Rome, on the otherinto the plain of the Po and thence into Cisalpine Gaul, the whole ofwhich was ripe for insurrection, that camp secured to him an advance uponthe city, should his friends prove successful, or a retreat into regionswhere he could raise new levies in case of their failure.

  A Roman camp was little less than a regular fortification, being formedmostly in an oblong square, with a broad ditch and earthen rampartsgarnished by a stockade, with wooden towers at the gates, one of whichpierced each side of the intrenchment.

  And to such a degree of perfection and celerity had long experience andthe most rigid discipline brought the legions, that it required anincredibly short time to prepare such a camp for any number of men; athing which never was omitted to be done nightly even during the mostarduous marches and in the face of an enemy.

  Catiline was too able and too old a soldier to neglect such precautionunder any circumstances; and assuredly he would not have done so now, whenthe consul Antonius lay with two veteran legions within twenty milesdistance in the low country east of Florence, while Quintus MetellusCeler, at the head of a yet larger force, was in the Picene district onhis rear, and not so far off but he might have attempted to strike a blowat him.

  His camp, capable of containing two full legions, the number of which hehad completed, all free-born men and Roman citizens, for he had refusedthe slaves who flocked at first to his standard in great force, wasperfectly defended, and provided with all the usual tents and divisions;so that every cohort, manipule, and century, nay every man, knew his ownstation.

  The sun had just sunk beneath the horizon and the night watches had beenset by sound of trumpets, the horsemen had been appointed for the rounds,and an outpost of light-armed soldiers pushed forward in front of all thegates.

  There was a rosy tinge still lingering in the sky, and a few slant rayswere shot through the gaps in the mountain ridge, gilding the evergreenfoliage of the holm-oaks with bright lustre, and warming the cold greystones which cumbered the sides and summits of the giant hills; but allthe level country at their feet was covered with deep purple shadow.

  Catiline sat alone in his _prætorium_, as the general’s pavilion wasentitled, situated on a little knoll nearly in the centre of the campbetween the tents of the tribunes, and the quarters of the extraordinaryhorse.

  He was completely armed, all but his head, and wore a rich scarlet cloakabove his panoply, his helmet and buckler lying upon the ground beside himin easy reach of his hand. A pen was in his fingers, and a sheet ofparchment was stretched on the board before him; but he was not writing,although there were several lines scrawled on it in a bold coarse hand.

  His face was paler and more livid than usual, and his frame thinner,almost indeed emaciated, yet every sinew and muscle was hard as temperedsteel.

  But now there was a strange expression in his features; it was not doubtnor hesitation, much less fear; and consisted perhaps rather in theabsence of his wonted characteristics, the unquiet and quick changes, thepassionate restlessness, the fell deadly sneer, and the blighting flash ofthe dark eye, than in any token of peculiar meaning.—There was a cold andalmost vacant expression in his gaze; and an impassive calmness in all hislineaments, that were in singular contrast with the character of the man;and he sat, a thing most unusual for him, perfectly motionless, buried indeep thought.

  The night was very cold, and, without, a heavy hoar frost was falling; sothat a fire of charcoal had keen kindled in a bronze brazier, and as thelight of the sky died away strange lurid gleams and fantastic shadows roseand fell, upon the walls of the large tent, rendered more fickle andgrotesque by the wavering of the canvass in the gusty night air. There waswine with several goblets upon the board, at which he sat, with his eyesfixed straight before him; and at his elbow there stood a tall brazentripod supporting a large lamp with several burners; but none of thesewere lighted, and, but for the fitful glare of the charcoal, the tentwould have been completely dark.

  Still he called not to any slave, nor appeared to observe the growingobscurity, but sat gloomily pondering—on what?

  Once or twice he drew his hand across his eyes, and then glared still morefixedly upon the dark and waving shadows, as if he saw something more thancommon in their uncertain outlines.

  Suddenly he spoke, in a hoarse altered voice—"This is strange," he said,"very strange! Now, were I one of these weak fools who believe in omens, Ishould shake. But tush! tush! how should there be omens? for who shouldsend them? there must be Gods, to have omens! and that is too absurd forcredence! Gods! Gods!" he repeated half dubiously—"Yet, if thereshould—ha! ha! art thou turned dotard, Catiline! There are _no_ Gods, orwhy sleep their thunders? Aye! there it is again," he added, gazing onvacancy. "By my right hand! it is very strange! three times last night,the first time when the watch was set, and twice afterward I saw him! Andthree times again tonight, since the trumpet was blown. Lentulus, with hislips distorted, his face black and full of blood, his eyes starting fromtheir sockets, like a man strangled! and he beckoned me with his palehand! I saw him, yet so shadowy and so transparent, that I might mark thewaving of the canvass through his figure!—But tush! tush! it is but atrick of the fancy. I am worn out with this daily marching; and the body’sfatigue hath made the mind weak and weary. And it is dull here too, nodice, no women, and no revelling. I will take some wine," he added,starting up and quaffing two or three goblets’ full in quick succession,"my blood is thin and cold, and wants warming. Ha! that is better—It isright old Setinian too; I marvel whence Manlius had it." Then he rose fromhis seat, and began to stride about the room impatiently. After a momentor two he dashed his hand fiercely against his brow, and cried in a voicefull of anguish and perturbation, "Tidings! tidings! I would give half theworld for tidings! Curses! curses upon it! that I began this game at all,or had not brave colleagues! It is time! can it be that their hearts havefailed them? that they have feared or delayed to strike, or have beenoverthrown, detected?—Tidings, tidings! By Hades! I must have tidings!What ho!" he exclaimed, raising his voice to a higher pitch, "Ho, I say,ho! Chærea!"

  And from an outer compartment of the tent the Greek freedman entered,bearing a lighted lamp in his hand.

  "Chærea, summon Manlius hither, and leave the lamp, have been long in thedarkness!"

  "Wert sleeping, Catiline?"

  "Sleeping!" exclaimed the traitor, with a savage cry, hoarse as the roarof a wounded lion—"sleeping, thou idiot! Do men sleep on volcanoes? Do mensleep in the crisis of their fortunes? I have not slept these six nights.Get thee gone! summon Manlius!" and then, as the freedman left the room,he added; "perchance I shall sleep no more until—I sleep for ever! I wouldI could sleep, and not see those faces; they never troubled me till now. Iwould I knew if _that_ sleep is dreamless. If it were so—perhaps, perhaps!but no! no! By all the Furies
! no! until my foot hath trodden on the neckof Cicero."

  As he spoke, Manlius entered the room, a tall dark sinister-lookingscar-seamed veteran, equipped in splendid armor, of which the helmet alonewas visible, so closely was he wrapped against the cold in a huge shaggywatch-cloak.

  As his subordinate appeared, every trace of the conflict which had been inprogress within him vanished, and his brow became as impassive, his eye ashard and keen as its wont.

  "Welcome, my Caius," he exclaimed. "Look you, we have present need ofcouncil. The blow must be stricken before this in Rome, or must havefailed altogether. If it have been stricken, we should be nearer Rome toprofit by it—if it have failed, we must destroy Antonius’ army, beforeMetellus join him. I doubt not he is marching hitherward even now.Besides, we must, we _must_ have tidings—we _must_ know all, and alltruly!"

  Then, seeing that Manlius doubted, "Look you," he continued. "Let us marchat daybreak to-morrow upon Fæsulæ, leaving Antonius in the plain on ourright. Marching along the crest of the hills, he cannot assail our flank.We can outstrip him too, and reach Arretium ere the second sunset. He,thinking we have surely tidings from our friends in the city, will followin disordered haste; and should we have bad news, doubling upon him on asudden we may overpower him at one blow. It is a sure scheme eitherway—think’st thou not so, good friend? nay more, it is the only one."

  "I think so, Sergius," he replied. "In very deed I think so. Forage too isbecoming scarce in the camp, and the baggage horses are dying. The men aremurmuring also for want of the pleasures, the carouses, and the women ofthe cities. They will regain their spirits in an hour, when they shallhear of the march upon Rome."

  "I prithee, let them hear it, then, my Caius; and that presently. Giveorders to the tribunes and centurions to have the tents struck, and thebaggage loaded in the first hour of the last night-watch. We will advanceat—ha!" he exclaimed, interrupting himself suddenly, and listening witheager attention. "There is a horse tramp crossing from the gates. By theGods! news from Rome! Tarry with me, until we hear it."

  Within five minutes, Chærea re-entered the tent, introducing a man dressedand armed as a light-horseman, covered with mudstains, travelworn, bendingwith fatigue, and shivering with cold, the hoar-frost hanging white uponhis eyebrows and beard.

  "From Rome, good fellow?" Catiline inquired quickly. "From Rome,Catiline!" replied the other, "bearing a letter from the noble Lentulus."

  "Give—give it quick!" and with the word he snatched the scroll from theman’s hand, tore it violently open, and read aloud as follows.

  "Who I may be, you will learn from the bearer. All things go bravely. Theambassadors have lost their suit, but we have won ours. They return hometo-morrow, by the Flaminian way, one Titus of Crotona guiding them, whoshall explain to you our thoughts and hopes—but, of this doubt not,thoughts shall be deeds, and hopes success, before this hour to-morrow."

  "By all the Gods!" cried Catiline with a shout of joy, "Ere this time allis won! Cicero, Cicero, I have triumphed, and thou, mine enemy, artnothing;" then turning to the messenger, he asked, "When didst leave Rome,with these joyous tidings? when sawest the noble Lentulus?"

  "On the fourth(13) day before the nones, at sunset."

  "And we are now in the sixth(14) before the Ides. Thou hast loitered onthe way, Sirrah."

  "I was compelled to quit my road, Catiline, and to lie hid four days amongthe hills to avoid a troop of horse which pursued me, seeing that I wasarmed; an advanced guard, I think, of Antonius’ army."

  "Thou didst well. Get thee gone, and bid them supply thy wants. Eat,drink, and sleep—we march upon Rome at day-break to-morrow."

  The man left the apartment, and looking to Manlius with a flushed cheekand exulting aspect, Catiline exclaimed,

  "Murmuring for pleasure, and for women, are they? Tell them, good friend,they shall have all the gold of Rome for their pleasure, and all itspatrician dames for their women. Stir up their souls, my Manlius, kindletheir blood with it matters not what fire! See to it, my good comrade, Iam aweary, and will lay me down, I can sleep after these good tidings."

  But it was not destined that he should sleep so soon.

  He had thrown himself again into a chair, and filled himself a brimminggoblet of the rich wine, when he repeated to himself in a half musingtone—

  "Murmuring for their women? ha!—By Venus! I cannot blame the knaves. It isdull work enough without the darlings. By Hercules! I would Aurelia werehere; or that jade Lucia! Pestilent handsome was she, and then so furiousand so fiery! By the Gods! were she here, I would bestow one caress on herat the least, before she died, as die she shall, in torture by my hand!Curses on her, she has thwarted, defied, foiled me! By every fiend andFury! ill shall she perish, were she ten times my daughter!"

  Again there was a bustle without the entrance of the pavilion, and againChærea introduced a messenger.

  It was Niger, one of the swordsmith’s men. Catiline recognized him in aninstant.

  "Ha! Niger, my good lad, from Caius Crispus, ha?"—

  "From Caius Crispus, praying succor, and that swift, lest it be too late."

  "Succor against whom? succor where, and wherefore?"

  "Against a century of Antonius’ foot. They came upon us unawares, killedforty of our men, and drove the stout smith for shelter into a ruinedwatch-tower, on the hill above the cataract, near to Usella, which happilyafforded him a shelter. They have besieged us there these two days; butcannot storm us until our arrows fail, or they bring up engines. But ourfood is finished, and our wine wakes low, and Julia"—

  "Who? Julia?" shouted Catiline, scarce able to believe his ears, andspringing from his chair in rapturous agitation—"By your life! speak! whatJulia?"—

  "Hortensia’s daughter, whom"—

  "Enough! enough! Chærea"—he scrawled a few words on a strip ofparchment—"this to Terentius the captain of my guard. Three hundred selecthorsemen to be in arms and mounted within half an hour. Let them taketorches, and a guide for Usella. Saddle the black horse Erebus. Get mesome food and a watch-cloak. Get thee away. Now tell me all, good fellow."

  The man stated rapidly, but circumstantially, all that he knew of theoccurrences of Julia’s seizure, of the capture of Aulus, and of theirjourney; and then, his eyes gleaming with the fierce blaze of excitedpassion and triumphant hatred, Catiline cross-questioned him concerningthe unhappy girl. Had she been brought thus far safely and withunblemished honor? Had she suffered from hunger or fatigue? Had her beautybeen impaired by privation?

  And, having received satisfactory replies to all his queries, he gavehimself up to transports of exultation, such as his own most confidentialfreedman never before had witnessed.

  Dismissing the messenger, he strode to and fro the hut, tossing his armsaloft and bursting into paroxysms of fierce laughter.

  "Ha! ha! too much!—it is too much for one night! Ha! ha! ha! ha! Love,hatred, passion, triumph, rage, revenge, ambition, all, all gratified! Ha!ha! Soft, gentle Julia—proud, virtuous one that did despise me, thou shaltwrithe for it—from thy soul shalt thou bleed for it! Ha! ha! Arvina—liar!fool! perjurer! but this will wring thee worse than Ixion’s wheel, orwhips of scorpions!—Ha! ha! Cicero! Cicero!—No! no! Chærea. There are noGods! no Gods who guard the innocent! no Gods who smile on virtue! nogods! I say, no Gods! no Gods, Chærea!"—

  But, as he spoke, there burst close over head an appaling crash ofthunder, accompanied by a flash of lightning so vivid and pervading thatthe whole tent seemed to be on fire. The terrified Greek fell to theearth, stunned and dazzled; but the audacious and insane blasphemer,tossing his arms and lifting his front proudly, exclaimed with his cynicalsneer, "If ye be Gods! strike! strike! I defy your vain noise! yourharmless thunder!"

  For ten minutes or more, blaze succeeded blaze, and crash followed crash,with such tremendous rapidity, that the whole heavens, nay, the wholeatmosphere, appeared incandescent with white, sulphureous, omnipresentfire; and that the roar of the volleyed thunder was continuou
s andincessant.

  Still the fierce traitor blenched not. Crime and success had maddened him.His heart was hardened, his head frenzied, to his own destruction.

  But the winter storm in the mountains was as brief as it was sudden, andtremendous; and it ceased as abruptly as it broke out unexpectedly. Atempest of hail came pelting down, the grape-shot as it were of thatheavenly artillery, scourging the earth with furious force during tenminutes more; and then the night was as serene and tranquil as it had beenbefore that elemental uproar.

  As the last flash of lightning flickered faintly away, and the lastthunder roll died out in the sky, Catiline stirred the freedman with hisfoot.

  "Get up, thou coward fool. Did I not tell thee that there are no Gods? lo!you now! for what should they have roused this trumpery pother, if not tostrike me? Tush, man, I say, get up!"

  "Is it thou, Sergius Catiline?" asked the Greek, scarce daring to raisehis head from the ground. "Did not the bolt annihilate thee? art thou notindeed dead?"—

  "Judge if I be dead, fool, by this, and this, and this!"—

  And, with each word, he kicked and trampled on the grovelling wretch withsuch savage violence and fury, that he bellowed and howled for mercy, andwas scarce able to creep out of the apartment, when he ceased stampingupon him, and ordered him to begone speedily and bring his charger.

  Ere many minutes had elapsed, the traitor was on horse-back.

  And issuing from the gates of his camp into the calm and starry night, hedrove, with his escort at his heels, with the impetuosity and din of awhirlwind, waking the mountain echoes by the clang of the thunderinghoofs, and the clash of the brazen armor and steel scabbards, down thesteep defile toward Usella.