Arria and her mother sat with the emperor. He was at home and in a
playful humor. The hour of his banquet was approaching. Soon he would
be summoned to receive his guests.
"Nay, but I am sure he loves me," the girl was saying.
The cunning emperor smiled and spoke very gently. "Think you so, dear
child? I will put him to the test. Soon we shall know if he be worthy
of so great a prize. I will try both his wit and his devotion, but
you--you cannot be here."
"And why, great father?"
"Think you it could be a test with your eye upon him?"
"Oh, but I must see it," said the girl. "Unless I see it I shall not
know. Let me be your slave and stand behind you in gray cloth.
Beloved father, I implore you, let me see the test."
"Ah, well," said the emperor, rising, with a smile. "I shall know
nothing but that you have gone above-stairs to find Clia, mistress of
the robes. Tell her to give you a box of tablets, and when I raise my
finger--so--they are to be delivered. Away with you."
Arria left with a cry of joy, and presently Augustus went with the Lady
Lucia to meet his guests.
The "commands" of the emperor had given the hour of the banquet and
prescribed the dress to be worn. Vergilius had waited anxiously for
the moment when he should again see the great god of Rome, who could
give or take away as he would. Standing at the door of Caesar, he
wondered whether he were nearing the end of all pleasure or the gate of
paradise. A plate of polished brass hung on its lintel, bearing in
large letters the word Salve. A slave opened the door and took his
pallium. Julia, that wayward daughter of Augustus, now three times
married but yet beautiful, met him in the inner hall, and together they
walked to the banquet-room. There the emperor, limping slightly, came
to meet Vergilius, and there, also, were the guests, seven in number:
Appius and his mother, the Lady Lucia; Terentia, wife of the late
Maecenas; Manius, an assessor in Judea; Hortensius, legate of Spain;
Antipater, son of Herod the Great; and Aulus Valerius Maro, the senator.
"It enters my thought to say to you," said the emperor, aside, as he
put his hand upon the shoulder of Vergilius, "keep the number one in
your mind, so that by-and-by you can tell me what you make of it."
Slaves had covered the table with fish and fowl in dishes of unwrought
silver. The guests reclined upon three great divans set around as many
sides of the table. They ate resting on their elbows, and were so
disposed that each could see the host without turning. The emperor
asked only for coarse bread, a morsel of fish, two figs, and a bit of
cheese.
"My good friends," said he, in a low voice, when the wine was served,
"we have with us an able officer in this young Manius, one of our
assessors in Jerusalem. I ask you to drink his health. Though I can
drink no wine, I can feel good sentiments."
One could not help remarking his fixed serenity of face and voice and
manner as he went on:
"Some time ago it came to my ear that he thought me a tyrant wallowing
in vulgar and ill-gotten luxury."
There was a little stir in those heads around the table, and in every
hand and face one might have seen evidence of quickened pulses. The
young officer was now staring through deathly pallor.
"My friends, it is not strange," said the great Augustus, mildly. "To
Jerusalem is quite two thousand miles; and, then he was very young when
he left the home of his fathers. Am I not right, Manius?"
"Your words are both true and kindly," said the young man.
"And you are discerning," said the emperor, with a smile. "Now, good
people, observe that I have invited our young officer to Rome for two
purposes: to show him, first, that I live no better than the poorest
nobleman; secondly, that I am only a servant of the people; for, since
he is an able officer, I shall resist my own will and keep him in the
public service."
"Bravo!" said they all, and clapped their hands.
A strange, inscrutable man was the emperor at that moment, the mildness
of a lamb in his voice and manner, the gleam of a serpent's eye under
his brows. And that right hand of his, clinched now and quivering a
little, had it grasped a reaching, invisible serpent within him?
Kindly? Yes, but with the kindness of a deep and subtle character who
saw in forbearance the best politics and the most effective discipline.
Lights were now aglow in a great candelabrum over the table and in many
tall lampadaria.
A slave, who was a juggler, came near and began to fill the gloom above
him with golden disks. From afar came the music of flutes and
timbrels. Julia retired presently, and returned soon with her pet
dwarf Cenopas. She stood him on a large, round table, and the guests
greeted him with loud laughter as he looked down. He had a hard,
unlovely face, that little dwarf. He suggested to Vergilius unwelcome
thoughts of a new sort of Cupid--deformed, evil, and hideous--typifying
the degenerate passions of Rome. There were in the quiver of this
Cupid arrows which carried the venom of the asp. Some at the table
mocked his grinning face and made a jest of his deformity. When he
could be heard he mimicked the speech and manners of public men.
"A Cupid with a knot in his back," said one.
"And if I were to aim an arrow at you," said the dwarf, quickly, "I'm
sure you'd have a pain in yours."
"My dear," said the gentle-mannered emperor, when the laughter had died
away, "I think we shall now give him the crown of folly and let him go."
"Between the greatest and the least of Romans," said his daughter,
rising and pointing at her father and then at the dwarf, "I am lost in
mediocrity."
A slave took the little creature in his arms and bore him away as if he
had been a pet dog.
"Tell me, young men," said the emperor, "have you no lines to read
us--you that have youth and beauty and sweethearts? How is it with
you, good Vergilius?"
The young man shook his head. "No," said he; "I have youth and a
sweetheart, but not the gift of poesy."
"No lines! What are we coming to in this Rome of ours? Are there no
more poets? My dear friends, tell me, in the baths or the forum or the
theatre, or wherever the people congregate, do you hear of no youth
that has the divine gift of song?"
He paused for a little, but there was no reply.
"Then Rome is in evil days," said the great father, sadly.
"Why?" It was the question of Gracus.
"Why, young man? Because in every land there should be those who can
cherish the fear of the gods and make honor beautiful and love sacred
and valor a thing of imperishable fame. I assure you, good people, one
poet is better," he paused, thoughtfully--"than ten thousand soldiers,"
he added. "Who will bring me a poet?"
The gods are indeed helpless, thought Vergilius. They must have poets
to do their work for them? But he said nothing.
"The streets are full of poets," said Gracus.
"Those old men with long beards and stilted rubbish!" said Augustus,
"with tragedies that slay the hero and the hearer! Bring me a poet,
and, remember, I shall honor him above all men. Once I invited Horace
to dine with me, and got no answer. He was a proud man"--this with a
merry smile. "Again I invited him, and then he deigned to write me a
sentence, merely, and said: 'Thanks, I am happy out here on my farm.'
I did not know what to do, but I wrote a letter and said to the great
man: 'You may not desire my friendship, but that is no reason for my
failing to value yours.' I am proud to say that he was my friend ever
after. But I weary you."
A female slave, thickly veiled, stood behind him. He made a signal and
she quickly put in his hand a little box of ivory, finely wrought.
"I have here," said the great father, "nine disks of wax. You see they
are very small, but so they shall serve my purpose the better. Will
each of you take one and retire from the table and write upon it the
thing he most desires? Now, my dear friends, brevity is ever as the
point of the lance. Wit is blunt and Truth half armed without it. I
lay a test upon you."
All retired quickly, and, soon returning, dropped their wishes in the
box. The playful emperor closed and shook it and withdrew a disk.
"I find here the word 'preference,'" said he, and all observed that his
keen eyes were calmly measuring the prince Antipater. "It is a poor
word, and does you little honor, my young friend. In mere preference
there is no merit. Here is another, and it says 'more wine.' Keep his
goblet full," he added, pointing to that of the senator, as all
laughed. "Here is one says 'rest.' Have patience, my good daughter, I
shall soon be done talking. Another has on it the words 'your
health'--a charming compliment, dear Lady Lucia. 'Courage,' 'wisdom,'
'success,'" he added, reading from the tablets. "Naturally, and who,
indeed, does not desire those things? Here is one that says 'help'--a
great word, upon my soul! He that prays for help and not for favor, if
he do his best, may have many good things--even 'courage,' 'wisdom,'
'success.' Keep at work and you shall have my help, Appius, and, I
doubt not, that of the gods also. Here is one--I like it best of
all--it is that of the modest young Vergilius. He would have a
priceless thing. And do you," he inquired, turning to the young
knight, "desire this above all things? Think; there is the distinction
of place and power and honor--the ring of a legate would become you
well!"
"But, above all," said Vergilius, "I desire that I have written."
"Beautiful boy!" said the cunning emperor. "'Tis so great a prize,
give me another test of your quality. With one word you ask for one
thing. To try your wit, I give you a theme so small it is next to
naught--the number one. Tell us, and briefly as you may, what is in
it."
The young man rose and bowed low. "One is in all numbers," said he,
"and unless all numbers are as one they are nothing. I desire one
mistress for my heart, one purpose for my conduct, and one great master
for my country."
"The gods grant them!" said Augustus, leading the applause.
"And now I shall proclaim the word he has written. It is 'Arria,' and
stands, I know well, for the sister of Appius."
He turned quickly to the still and silent figure of the slave behind
him. All eyes were now watching her.
"Are you content?" he inquired.
Gray veil and robe fell away, revealing the beautiful sister of Appius.
Vergilius went quickly to her side.
"I declare them for each other!" said the emperor, as all rose and
gathered around the two. He took the boy's hand. "Come to me at ten
to-morrow," he added.
"But, O father of Rome!" said Arria, looking up at the great man, "how
long shall you detain him?"
"Give me half an hour, you love-sick maiden," said Augustus. "He shall
be at your palace in good time."
"Come at the middle hour," said the Lady Lucia, her hand upon the arm
of Vergilius.
"The gods give you sleep," said the great father, as he bade them
good-night.
Beneath the laurels on their way to the gate, Gracus, who rode with
Antipater, said:
"And what of your oath, son of Herod?"
"But they are not yet married," the other answered, malevolently.
"Vergilius! Bah! He is the son of a praetor and I am the son of a
king. Curse the old fox! He never spoke to me after greetings, and
once when I glanced up at him I thought his keen eyes were looking
through me.
"Those eyes! Jupiter!" said Gracus, "they drop a plummet into one."