That evening Vergilius went to feast with the young Herodian prince,
Antipater of Judea. The son of Herod was then a tall, swarthy, robust
young man, who had come to see life in Rome and to finish his
education. He would inherit the crown--so said they who knew anything
of Herodian politics; but he was a Jew, and deep in the red intrigue of
his father's house. So, therefore, he was regarded in Rome with more
curiosity than respect. Augustus himself had said that he would rather
be the swine of Herod than Herod's son, and he might have added that he
would rather be the swine of Antipater than his father. But that was
before Augustus had learned that even his own household was unworthy of
full confidence.
Antipater had brought many slaves to Rome, and some of the noblest
horses in the empire. He had hired a palace and built a lion-house,
where, before intimates, he was wont to display his courage and his
skill. It had a small arena and was in the midst of a great garden.
There he kept a lion from northern Africa, a tiger, and a black leopard
from the Himalayas. He was training for the Herodian prize at the
Jewish amphitheatre in Caesarea. These great, stealthy cats in his
garden typified the passions of his heart. If he had only fought these
latter as he fought the beasts he might have had a better place in
history.
Antipater had conceived a great liking for the sister of Appius. Her
beauty had roused in him the great cats of passion now stalking their
prey. He had sworn to his intimates that no other man should marry
her. His gallantry was unwelcome, he knew that, and Appius had assured
him that a marriage was impossible; but the wild heart of the Idumean
held to its purpose. And now its hidden eyes were gazing, catlike, on
Vergilius, the cause of its difficulty. In Judea he would have known
how to act, but in Rome he pondered.
It had been a stormy day in the palace of Antipater. He had crucified
a slave for disobedience and run a lance through one of his best horses
for no reason. He came out of his bath a little before the hour of his
banquet, and two slaves, trembling with fear, followed him to his
chamber. They put his tunic on him, and his sandals, and wound the
fillets that held them in place. One of the slaves began brushing the
dark hair of his master while the other was rubbing a precious ointment
on his face and arms.
"Fool!" he shouted. "Have I not told you never to bear upon my head?"
He jumped to his feet, black eyes flashing under heavy brows, and,
seizing a lance, broke the slave's arm with a blow and drove him out of
the chamber. A few minutes later, in a robe of white silk and a yellow
girdle, he came into his banquet-hall with politeness, dovelike,
worshipful, and caressing.
"Noble son of Varro!" said he, smiling graciously, "it is a joy to see
you. And you, brave Gracus; and you, Aulus, child of Destiny; and you,
my learned Manius; and you, Carus, favored of the Muses: I do thank you
all for this honor."
It was a brilliant company--gay youths all, who could tell the new
stories and loved to sit late with their wine. As they waited for
dinner many tempting dishes were passed among them. There were
oysters, mussels, spondyli, fieldfares with asparagus, roe-ribs,
sea-nettles, and purple shellfish. When they came to their couches,
the dinner-table was covered with rare and costly things. On platters
of silver and gold one might have seen tunny fishes from Chalcedon,
murcenas from the Straits of Gades, peacocks from Samos, grouse from
Phrygia, cranes from Melos. Slaves were kept busy bringing boar's head
and sow's udder and roasted fowls, and fish pasties, and boiled teals.
Other slaves kept the goblets full of old wine. Soon the banquet had
become a revel of song and laughter. Suddenly Antipater raised a calix
high above his head.
"My noble friends," he shouted, "I bid you drink with me to Arria,
sister of Appius, and fairest daughter of Rome--"
Vergilius had quickly risen to his feet. "Son of Herod," said he, with
dignity, "I am in your palace and have tasted of your meat, and am
therefore sacred. You make your wine bitter when you mingle it with
the name of one so pure. Good women were better forgotten at a
midnight revel."
A moment of silence followed.
"My intention was pure as she," Antipater answered, craftily. "Be not
so jealous, my noble friend. I esteem her as the best and loveliest of
women."
"Nay, not the loveliest," said the young Manius, an assessor in Judea.
"I sing the praise of Salome, sister of our noble prince. Of all the
forms in flesh and marble none compare with this beautiful daughter of
the great king."
"May fairest women be for the best men," said Antipater, drinking his
wine.
In a dim light along the farther side of the dining-hall was a row of
figures, some draped, some nude, and all having the look of old marble.
Two lay in voluptuous attitudes, one sat on a bank of flowers, and
others stood upon pedestals.
There were all the varying forms of Venus represented in living flesh.
None, save Antipater and the slaves around him, knew that under each
bosom was a fearful and palpitating heart. They were beautiful
slave-girls captured on the frontiers of Judea. In spite of aching
sinew and muscle, they had to stand like stone to escape the
observation of evil eyes. There was a cruelty behind that stony
stillness of the maidens, equal, it would seem, to the worst in Hades.
Slaves kept the wine foaming in every goblet, and fought and danced and
wrestled for the pleasing of that merry company, and the hours wore
away. Suddenly the sound of a lyre hushed the revels. All heard the
voice of a maiden singing, and turned to see whence it came. A sweet
voice it was, trembling in tones that told of ancient wrong, in words
full of a new hope. Had life and song come to one of those white
marbles yonder? Voice and word touched the heart of Vergilius--he knew
not why; and this in part is the chant that stopped the revels of
Antipater:
"Lift up my soul; let me not be ashamed---I trust
in Thee, God of my fathers;
Send, quickly send, the new king whose arrows
shall fly as the lightning,
Making the mighty afraid and the proud to bow
low and the wicked to tremble.
Soon let me hear the great song that shall sound
in the deep of the heavens;
Show me the lantern of light hanging low in
the deep of the heavens."
The voice of the singer grew faint and the lyre dropped from her hands.
They could see her reeling, and suddenly she fell headlong to the rug
beneath her pedestal. Antipater rose quickly with angry eyes.
"The accursed girl!" said he. "A Galilean slave of my father. She is
forever chanting of a new king."
Hot with anger and flushed with wine, he ran, cursing, and kicked the
shapely form that lay fainting at the foot of its pedestal.
"Fool!" he shouted. "Know you not that I only am your king? You shall
be punished; you shall enter the cage of the leopard."
He went no further. Vergilius had rushed upon him and flung him to the
floor. Antipater rose quickly and approached the young Roman, a devil
in his eyes. Vergilius had a look of wonder and self-reproach.
"What have I done?" said he, facing the Jew. "Son of Herod, forgive
me. She is your slave, and I--I am no longer master of myself. I
doubt not some strange god is working in me, for I seem to be
weak-hearted and cannot bear to see you kick her."
The declaration was greeted with loud laughter. Antipater stood
muttering as he shook the skirt of his toga.
"'Tis odd, my goodfellows," said Vergilius, "but the other day I saw a
man scourging his lady's-maid. Mother of the gods! I felt as if the
blows were falling on my own back, and out went my hand upon his arm
and I begged him--I begged him to spare the girl."
All laughed again.
"You should have a doll and long hair," said Antipater, in a tone of
contempt.
The proud son of Varro stood waiting as the others laughed, his brows
and chin lifting a bit with anger. When silence came he spoke slowly,
looking from face to face:
"If any here dare to question my courage, within a moment it shall be
proved upon him."
None spoke or moved for a breath. Antipater answered, presently:
"I doubt not your courage, noble Vergilius, but if you will have it
tried I can show you a better way, and one that will spare your
friends. Come, all of you."
As they were rising, the young Gracus remarked: "By Apollo! I have not
taken my emetic."
"To forget that is to know sorrow," said another.
Slaves brought their outer robes and they followed the young prince.
He led them, between vines and fruit trees and beds of martagon and
mirasolus, to the lion-house in his garden. Vergilius now understood
the test of courage to be put upon him. The great beasts were asleep
in their cages, and Antipater prodded them with a lance. A thunder in
their throats seemed to fill the air and shake the flames in the
lampadaria. With sword and lance Antipater entered the arena, a space
barred high, about thirty feet square, upon which all the cages opened.
"The tiger!" he commanded.
Keepers lifted a metal gate, and the huge cat leaped away from their
lances, backed snarling to the end of his cage, and with a slow,
creeping movement put his head and fore-paws into the arena; then a
swift step or two, a lowering of the great head, and side-long he
stood, with eyes aglow and fangs uncovered, a low mutter in his mouth,
like the roar of a mighty harp-string. Some fifteen feet away stood
the son of Herod, his lance poised.
"Never strike while your beast has a foot to the ground," said he,
keeping his gaze on the face of the tiger. "He will be quick to move
and parry. Wait until he is in the air, and then thrust your lance."
He made a feint with his weapon; the tiger darted half his length
aside, with a great, bursting roar, and, crouching low, stealthily felt
the ground beneath him.
"Watch him now," said the tall Antipater. "He will leap soon."
Again he drove him forward, and then the beast turned, facing his
tormentor, and crouched low. There, in a huge setting of bone and
muscle strangely fitted to its fierceness, with eyes of fire and feet
of deadly stealth, its back arched like a drawn bow, the wild heart of
the son of Herod seemed to be facing him.
"Look!" a slave shouted. "He has bent his bow."
The haired lip of the beast quivered; great cords of muscle were drawn
tense. Like a flash the bow sprang and the columns of bone beneath him
lifted, flinging his long, striped body in the air. With cat-like
swiftness Antipater stepped aside, and while the huge beast was in
mid-air, thrust the lance into his heart. He bore with all his
strength and rushed away, seizing an other weapon. The big cat fell
and rose and struck at the clinging lance, and stood a second flooding
the floor with blood. Then down he went shuddering to his death. The
young men shouted loud their applause in honor of Herod's son. While
the beast was dying slaves came and sanded the floor. Then, presently,
they swept up the red sand, and tying a rope to the legs of the limp
tiger, dragged him away. They had done this kind of work before, and
each knew his part. Presently Antipater called two of them.
"Bring that girl Cyran--she that chants of her new king," said he, as
they ran to do his bidding.
"Noble prince, the strange god is again at work in me," said Vergilius,
with rising ire. "I could not bear to see you put her with the
leopard; I should rather face him myself."
"You!" said the other, tauntingly, and with a shrewd purpose. The
youths turned to see if Vergilius would really accept the challenge.
No man had ever faced a black leopard at close quarters without
suffering death or injury.
"I," said Vergilius, promptly. "If it is amusement you desire, I can
supply it as well as she. Surely I have more blood in me. If you wish
only to feed the leopard--will I not make a better feast?"
A sound hushed them. It was the slave-girl, singing as she came near:
"Send, quickly send, the new king whose arrows
shall fly as the lightning,
Making the mighty afraid and the proud to bow
low and the wicked to tremble.
Soon let me hear the great song that shall sound
in the deep of the heavens;
Show me the lantern of light hanging low in
the deep of the heavens."
She was fair to look upon as she came, led by the carnifex, her form,
draped in soft, transparent linen, like that of a goddess in its
outline, her face lighted even with that light of which she sang.
"The girl against a hundred denarii that you cannot live an hour in the
arena with him," said Antipater, hotly.
"I accept the wager," Vergilius calmly answered, laying off his robe
and seizing a lance. He entered the arena and closed its gate behind
him. "Drive the beast in upon me, son of Herod; and you, Gracus, be
ready to hand me another lance."
The black leopard spat fiercely and struck at the points that were put
upon it, the deep rumble in its throat swelling into loud crescendos.
Of a sudden it bounded through the gateway and stood a moment, baring
great fangs. The animal threatened with long hisses. Vergilius held
its eye, his lance raised. The hissing ceased, the growl diminished,
the stealthy paws moved slowly. Soon it rolled upon its side, purring,
and seemed to caress the floor with head and paws--a trick to divert
the gaze of Vergilius. The Satanic eyes were ever on its foe. As the
beast lay there, twisting and turning, the black fur seemed to wrap it
in the gloom of Tartarus, and the fire of the burning lake to shine
through its eyes. While Vergilius stood motionless and alert, a slave
hurriedly entered the lion-house and spoke to Antipater.
"The imperator!" whispered the slave. "He cannot wait; he must see you
quickly."
"Where?"
"In the palace hall."
Antipater hurried away.
The slave-girl went close to the barred arena.
"Young master," said she, in quick and eager words, "the lamps are
burning dimmer. They will go out soon. It is a trick. You will not
be able to see and the leopard will rend you."
Antipater ran to the banquet-hall of his palace, where sat the emperor,
his chin resting thoughtfully on his hand. The great Augustus did not
look up nor even change his attitude as the son of Herod came near and
bowed low and called him father.
"I have a plan," said the emperor thoughtfully, "--a pretty plan, my
young prince of--of--"
"Judea?" suggested the young prince.
"Oh, well, it matters not," the great father went on. "You know that
fair Vergilius, son of Varro? A headstrong, foolish youth he is, and I
fear much that he is like to die shortly. What think you?"
The piercing eyes of Augustus were looking into those of the young man.
"My great father," said the latter, "I do not know."
"'Tis gross ignorance and unworthy of you," said Augustus, quickly, as
he rose. "Well, I have bethought me of a pretty plan. Your funeral
and his shall occur on the same day--a fine, great, amusing funeral,"
he added, thoughtfully. "It shall be so. Do not worry, I shall see
you well buried. Ah, you are most impolite. Why do you not ask me to
drink your health? My pretty prince, you look most ill and have need
of my good wishes."
"Dominus!" said the other, trembling with anxiety.
"Dominus!" the old emperor shouted, angrily. "Call me ass, if you
dare, but never call me 'Dominus.'"
"You honor me, great father," said the young man, his eyes staring with
terror, "but I beg you to excuse me for a little time."
"Ah, so you would leave me," said the sly emperor, in his mildest
tones. "A most inhospitable wretch, indeed."
The tall Jew was now pale with fright. His feeling showed in great
beads of perspiration. He dared not to stay; he dared not to go. He
was in a worse plight than Vergilius, now standing in the leopard's
cage.
"A most inhospitable prince," the bland emperor repeated, smiling with
amusement. "You are in a hurry?"
"I am ill."
The emperor stood smiling as Antipater glided away.
"Run, you knave!" said the former to himself, with a chuckle of
satisfaction. "Upon my soul! the Jew has already set his snare."
Then the gentle and cunning man, Gaius Julius Caesar Octavianus
Augustus, made his way to the entrance where lecticarii were waiting
with his litter.
"Can you hear the sound of running feet?" he inquired of the lady who
sat beside him as they went away.
"Yes. What means it?"
He turned with a smile and a movement of his hand. Then he answered
calmly:
"Death is chasing a man through the garden yonder."
While Antipater was running towards the lion-house, that small tragedy
of the arena was near its end.
The lights are burning low. Two have flickered for a little and gone
out. The young men are watching with eager eyes.
"I can bear it no longer," says one, rushing to the gate of the arena,
only to find that he could not open it.
The slave-girl utters a cry and steps forward and is caught and held by
the carnifex.
Vergilius urges the leopard. He steps quickly, feinting with his
lance; the cat darts along the farther side of the arena, roaring. Its
eyes glow fiery in the dusk. The beast is become furious with
continued baiting. Half the lamps are out and the light rapidly
failing as Antipater rushes through the door. He falls beside the
arena, rises and opens the gate.
"A lance," he whispers, and it is quickly put in his hands. "Come,
come quickly, son of Varro," he whispers again. "The light is failing.
He will tear you into shreds. Come through the gate here."
Vergilius had stopped, facing the leopard with lance raised.
"Not unless I have the wager," says he, calmly.
"You have won it," Antipater answers. "Come, good friend, be quick, I
beg of you!"
Both moved backward through the gate, and before it closed there came a
fling of claws on the floor. A black ball, bound hard with tightened
sinew, rose in the air and shot across the arena and shook the gate
which had closed in time to stop it.
"You are living, son of Varro, and I thank the God of my fathers,"
Antipater shouted, as he flung himself on a big divan, his breath
coming fast. "I forgot the lights. I thought of them suddenly, and
ran to save you. If I had been running in the games I should have won
the laurel of Caesar."
"I was wrong--he could not have meant to slay me," thought Vergilius.
"Not by the paws of the leopard."
Cyran stood near the door, weeping. Antipater rose and led her to
Vergilius.
"The girl is yours," said he. "I am glad to be done with her. Come,
all."
They followed him to the palace, and Vergilius bade the girl dress and
be ready to join his pedisequi in the outer hall. She knelt before him
and kissed the border of his tunic.
"Oh, my young master!" said she, "I shall be of those who part the
briers in your way." Then she hurried to obey him.
"I would speak with you, noble son of Varro," said Antipater, beckoning.
Vergilius followed to the deep atrium of the palace, where they stood
alone.
"You have one thing I desire, and I will pay you five thousand aurei to
relinquish it--five thousand aurei," the Jew whispered.
"And what is it you would buy of me, noble prince?"
"A mere plaything! A bouquet that will fade shortly and be flung
aside. The thing happens to suit my fancy, and--and I can afford it."
In the moment of silence that followed this remark a stern look of
inquiry came into the face of Vergilius.
"Man, do you not know? 'Tis the sister of Appius," Antipater added,
lightly.
"Cur of Judea!" hissed the knight, his sword flashing out of its
scabbard, "I shall cut you down and fling you out to the dogs. Fight
here and now. I demand it!"
The young Roman spoke loudly and stood waiting. Those others had heard
the challenge and were now coming near. Antipater stood silent,
glaring, as had the leopard, with an evil leer at his foe, and thinking
no doubt of the warning of Augustus. The stiff, straight hairs in his
mustache quivered as he turned slowly, watchfully, towards the others,
who were now standing near. Since his funeral should occur on the same
day, how could he fight with Vergilius?
"You dare not," the latter added, fiercely; "and before these men I
denounce you as a coward--a coward who fears to raise a hand."
His arm was extended, his finger at the face of the Jew, now white with
passion. Half a moment passed in which there was no word.
"You living carrion!" said the young knight, turning and walking away.
"I am done with you."
He took the hand of the poor slave Cyran, and walked to the farther
side of the atrium. He turned, still white with anger as if
unsatisfied.
"Pet of harlots!" said he, fiercely. "It is time for some one to stand
for the honor of good women. If you do but speak her name again before
me I will run you through."
Receiving no answer, he departed with Cyran, while the others gathered
about their host.
There was a heavy rumble in the throat of Antipater--a tiger-like,
Herodian trait--and then a volley of oaths came out of it. He trembled
with rage and flung his sword far across the dim atrium with a shout of
anger. Like the great cats in his rage, he was like them also in his
methods of attack--sly and terrible, but with a deep regard for the
integrity of his own skin. Sure of his advantage, he could be as brave
as when he faced the tiger.
He sat awhile muttering, his face between his hands. Soon, having
calmed his passion, he rose and snarled: "Good sirs, never quarrel with
the pet of an emperor, for if one spares you the other will not."