While the lady Euryale preceded her young charge with a lamp up a narrow,
dark staircase, Alexander waited in one of the audience-rooms till the
emperor should call him. The high-priest of Serapis, several soothsayers
of the temple, Aristides, the new head of the night-watch, and other
"friends" of the monarch had accompanied him thus far. But admittance to
the innermost apartments had not been permitted, for Caracalla had
ordered the magician Serapion to call up spirits before him, and was
having the future declared to him in the presence of the prefect of the
praetorians and a few other trusty followers.
The deputation of citizens, who had come to apologize to Caesar for
the annoying occurrences in the Circus, had been told to wait till the
exorcisms were over. Alexander would have preferred to hold aloof from
the others, but no one here seemed to think ill of him for his
thoughtless behavior. On the contrary, the courtiers pressed round him
--the brother of the future empress-with the greatest assiduity: the
high-priest inquired after his brother Philip; and Seleukus, the
merchant, who had come with the deputation, addressed many flattering
remarks to him on his sister's beauty. Some of the Roman senators whose
advances he had received coldly enough at first, now took up his whole
attention, and described to him the works of art and the paintings in the
new baths of Caracalla; they advised him to offer himself as a candidate
for the ornamentation of some of the unfinished rooms with frescoes, and
led him to expect their support. In short, they behaved toward the young
man as if he might command their services, in spite of their gray hairs.
But Alexander saw through their purpose.
Their discourse ceased suddenly, for voices were audible in the
emperor's apartments, and they all listened with outstretched necks
and bated breath if they might catch a word or two.
Alexander only regretted not having either charcoal or tablets at hand,
that he might fix their intent faces on the wood; but at last he stood
up, for the door was opened and the emperor entered from the tablinum,
accompanied by the magician who had shown Caesar several spirits of the
departed. In the middle of the demonstration, at Caracalla's desire, the
beheaded Papinian had appeared in answer to Serapion's call. Invisible
hands replaced his severed head upon his shoulders, and, having greeted
his sovereign, he promised him good fortune. Last of all great Alexander
had appeared, and assured the emperor in verse, and with many a flowery
phrase, that the soul of Roxana had chosen the form of Melissa to dwell
in. Caracalla would enjoy the greatest happiness through her, as long as
she was not alienated from him by love for another man. Should this
happen, Roxana would be destroyed and her whole race with her, but
Caesar's glory and greatness would reach its highest point. The monarch
need have no misgivings in continuing to live out his (Alexander's) life.
The spirit of his godlike father Severus watched over him, and had
given him a counselor in the person of Macrinus, in whose mortal body the
soul of Scipio Africanus had awakened to a new life.
With this, the apparition, which, like the others, had shown itself as a
colored picture moving to and fro upon the darkened wall of the tablinum,
vanished. The voice of the great Macedonian sounded hollow and
unearthly, but what he said had interested the emperor deeply
and raised his spirits.
However, his wish to see more spirits had remained unsatisfied. The
magician, who remained upon his knees with uplifted hands while the
apparitions were visible, declared that the forces he was obliged to
employ in exercising his magic power over the spirits had exhausted him.
His fine, bearded face was deathly pale, and his tall form trembled and
shook. His assistants had silently disappeared. They had kept
themselves and their great scrolls concealed behind a curtain. Serapion
explained that they were his pupils, whose office it was to support his
incantations by efficient formulas.
Caracalla dismissed him graciously, then turning to the assembled
company, he gave with much affability a detailed account of the wonders
he had seen and heard.
"A marvelous man, this Serapion," he exclaimed to the high-priest
Timotheus--"a master in his art. What he said before proceeding to the
incantations is convincing, and explains much to me. According to him,
magic holds the same relation to religion as power to love, as the
command to the request. Power! What magic effect it has in real life?
We have seen its influence upon the spirits, and who among the children
of men can resist it? To it I owe my greatest results, and hope to be
still further indebted. Even reluctant love must bow to it."
He gave a self-satisfied laugh, and continued: "As the pious worshiper of
the gods can move the heavenly ones by prayer and sacrifice, so--the
wondrous man declared--the magician can force them by means of his secret
lore to do his will. Therefore, he who knows and can call the gods and
spirits by the right name, him they must obey, as the slave his master.
The sages who served the Pharaohs in the gray dawn of time succeeded in
fathoming the mystery of these names given to the everlasting ones at
their birth, and their wisdom has come down to him through the
generations as a priceless secret. But it is not sufficient to murmur
the name to one's self, or be able to write it down. Every syllable has
its special meaning like every member of the human frame. It depends,
too, on how it is pronounced and where the emphasis lies; and this true
name, containing in itself the spiritual essence of the immortals, and
the outward sign of their presence, is different again from the names by
which they are known among men.
"Could I have any suspicion--and here Serapion addressed himself to me--
which god he forced to obey him when he uttered the words, 'Abar Barbarie
Eloce Sabaoth Pachnuphis,' and more like it! I have only remembered the
first few words. But, he continued, it was not enough to be able to
pronounce these words. The heavenly spirits would submit only to those
mortals who shared in some of their highest characteristics. Before the
Magian dared to call them, he must purify his soul from all sensual
taint, and sanctify his body by long and severe fasting. When the Magian
succeeded, as he had done in these days, in rendering himself impervious
to the allurements of the senses, and in making his soul, as far as was
humanly possible, independent of the body, only then had he attained to
that degree of godliness which entitled him to have intercourse with the
heavenly ones and the entire spirit-world as with his equals, and to
subdue them to his will.
"He exerted his power, and we saw with our bodily eyes that the spirits
came to his call. But we discovered that it was not done by words alone.
What a noble-looking man he is! And the mortifications that he
practices--these, too, are heroic deeds! The cavilers in the Museum
might take example from him. Serapion performed an action and a
difficult one. They waste their time over words, miserable words! They
will prove to you by convincing argument that yonder lion is a rabbit.
The Magian waved his hands and the king of beasts cringed before him.
Like the worthies of the Museum, every one in this city is merely a mouth
on two legs. Where but here would the Christians--I know their
doctrines--have invented that term for their sublime teacher--The Word
become flesh? I have heard nothing here," he turned to the deputation,
"but words and again words--from you, who humbly assure me of your love
and reverence; from those who think that their insignificant persons may
slip through my fingers and escape me, paltry, would-be witty words,
dipped in poison and gall. In the Circus, even, they aimed words at me.
The Magian alone dared to offer me deeds, and he succeeded wonderfully;
he is a marvelous man!"
"What he showed you," said the high-priest, "was no more than what the
sorcerers achieved, as the old writings tell us, under the builders of
the Pyramids. Our astrologers, who traced out for you the path of the
stars--"
"They, too," interrupted Caesar, bowing slightly to the astrologers,
"have something better to show than words. As I owe to the Magian an
agreeable hour, so I thank you, my friends, for a happy one."
This remark had reference to the information which had been brought to
Caesar, during a pause in the incantations, that the stars predicted
great happiness for him in his union with Melissa, and that this
prediction was well-founded, was proved by the constellations which
the chief astrologer showed and explained to him.
While Caracalla was receiving the thanks of the astrologers, he caught
sight of Alexander, and at once graciously inquired how Melissa had got
back to her fathers house. He then asked, laughingly, if the wits of
Alexandria were going to treat him to another offering like the one on
his arrival. The youth, who had determined in the Circus to risk his
life, if need be, in order to clear himself of the taint of suspicion,
judged that the moment had come to make good the mistake which had robbed
him of his fellow-citizens' esteem.
The presence of so many witnesses strengthened his courage; and fully
expecting that, like the consul Vindex, his speech would cost him his
head, he drew himself up and answered gravely, "It is true, great Caesar,
that in a weak moment and without considering the results, I repeated
some of those witticisms to you--"
"I commanded, and you had to obey," retorted Caesar, and added, coldly,
"But what does this mean?"
"It means," began Alexander--who already saw the sword of execution leap
from its scabbard--with pathetic dignity, which astonished the emperor as
coming from him, "it means that I herewith declare before you, and my
Alexandrian fellow-citizens here present, that I bitterly repent my
indiscretion; nay, I curse it, since I heard from your own lips how their
ready wit has set you against the sons of my beloved native city."
"Ah, indeed! Hence these tears?" interposed Caesar, adopting a well-
known Latin phrase. He nodded to the painter, and continued, in a tone
of amused superiority: "Go on performing as an orator, if you like; only
moderate the tragic tone, which does not become you, and make it short,
for before the sun rises we all--these worthy citizens and myself--desire
to be in bed."
Blushes and pallor alternated on the young man's face. Sentence of death
would have been more welcome to him than this supercilious check to a
hazardous attempt, which he had looked upon as daring and heroic. Among
the Romans he caught sight of some laughing faces, and hurt, humiliated,
confused, scarcely capable of speaking a word, and yet moved by the
desire to justify himself, he stammered out: "I have--I meant to assure
--No, I am no spy! May my tongue wither before I--You can, of course--It
is in your power to take my life!"
"Most certainly it is," interposed Caracalla, and his tone was more
contemptuous than angry. He could see how deeply excited the artist was,
and to save him--Melissa's brother-from committing a folly which he would
be obliged to punish, he went on with gracious consideration: "But I much
prefer to see you live and wield the brush for a long time to come. You
are dismissed."
The young man bent his head, and then turned his back upon the emperor,
for he felt that he was threatened now with what, to an Alexandrian, was
the most unbearable fate-to appear ridiculous before so many.
Caracalla allowed him to go, but, as he stepped across the threshold, he
called after him: "Tomorrow, then, with your sister, after the bath!
Tell her the stars and the spirits are propitious to our union."
Caesar then beckoned to the chief of the nightwatch, and, having laid the
blame of the unpleasant occurrences in the Circus on his carelessness,
cut the frightened officer short when he proposed to take every one
prisoner whom the lictors had marked among the noisy.
"Not yet! On no account to-morrow," Caracalla ordered. "Mark each one
carefully. Keep your eyes open at the next performance. Put down the
names of the disaffected. Take care that the rope hangs about the neck
of the guilty. The time to draw it tight will come presently. When they
think themselves safe, the cowardly show their true faces. Wait till I
give the signal--certainly not in the next few days; then seize upon
them, and let none escape!"
Caesar had given these orders with smiling lips. He wanted first to make
Melissa his, and, like a shepherd, to revel with her in the sweetness of
their love. No moment of this time should be darkened for him by the
tears and prayers of his bride. When she should hear, later on, of her
husband's bloody vengeance upon his enemies, she would have to accept it
as an accomplished fact; and means, no doubt, would be found to soothe
her indignation.
Those who after the insulting occurrences in the Circus had expected
to see Caesar raging and storming, were hurried from one surprise to
another; for even after his conversation with the night-watch he looked
cheerful and contented, and exclaimed: "It is long since you have seen me
thus! My own mirror will ask itself if it has not changed owners. It is
to be hoped it may have cause to accustom itself to reflect me as a happy
man as often as I look in it. The two highest joys of life are before
me, and I know not what would be left for me to desire if only
Philostratus were here to share the coming days with me."
The grave senator Cassius Dio here stepped forward and observed that
there were advantages in their amiable friend's withdrawal from the
turmoil of court life. His Life of Apollonius, to which all the world
was looking forward, would come all the sooner to a close.
"If only that I might talk to him of the man of Tyana," cried the
emperor, "I wish his biographer were here to-day. To possess little and
require nothing is the wish of the sage; and I can well imagine
circumstances in which one who has enjoyed power and riches to satiety
should consider himself blessed as a simple countryman following out the
precept of Horace, 'procul negotiis,' plowing his fields and gathering
the fruit of his own trees. According to Apollonius, the wise man must
also be poor, and, though the citizens of his state are permitted to
acquire treasures, the wealthy are looked upon as dishonorable. There is
some sense in this paradox, for the possessions that are to be obtained
with money are but vulgar joys. I know by experience what it is that
purifies the soul, that lifts it up and makes it truly blessed. It does
not come of power or riches. Whoso has known it, he to whom it has been
revealed--"
He stopped short, surprised at himself; then laughed as he shook his head
and exclaimed, "Behold, the tragedy hero in the purple with one foot in
an idyl!" and wished the assembled company pleasant slumbers for the
short remains of the night.
He gave his hand to a few favored ones; but, as he clasped that of the
proconsul Julius Paulinus, who, with unheard-of audacity, had put on
mourning garments for his brother-in-law Vindex, beheaded that day,
Caesar's countenance grew dark, and, turning his back upon them all,
he walked rapidly away. Scarcely had he disappeared when the mourning
proconsul exclaimed in his dry manner, as if speaking to himself:
"The idyl is to begin. Would it might be the satyr-play that closes the
bloodiest of tragedies!"
"Caesar has not been himself to-day," said the favorite Theocritus; and
the senator Cassius Dio whispered to Paulinus, "And therefore he was more
bearable to look at."
Old Adventus gazed in astonishment as Arjuna, the emperor's Indian body-
slave, disrobed him; for, though Caracalla had entered the apartment with
a dark and threatening brow, while his sandals were being unfastened, he
laughed to himself, and cried to his old servant with beaming eyes,
"To-morrow!" and the chamberlain called down a blessing on the morrow,
and on her who was destined to fill the coming years with sunshine for
mighty Caesar.
........................
Caracalla, generally an early riser, slept this time longer than on other
days. He had retired very late to rest, and the chamberlain therefore
put off waking him, especially as he had been troubled by evil dreams, in
spite of his happy frame of mind when he sought his couch. When at last
he rose he first inquired about the weather, and expressed his
satisfaction when he heard that the sun had risen with burning rays,
but was now veiled in threatening clouds.
His first visit led him to the court of sacrifice. The offerings had
fallen out most favorably, and he rejoiced at the fresh and healthy
appearance of the bullocks' hearts and livers which the augurs showed
him. In the stomach of one of the oxen they had found a flint arrow-
head, and, on showing it to Caracalla, he laughed, and observed to the
high-priest Timotheus: "A shaft from Eros's quiver! A hint from the god
to offer him a sacrifice on this happy day."
After his bath he caused himself to be arrayed with peculiar care, and
then gave orders for the admittance, first, of the prefect of the
praetorians, and then of Melissa, for whom a mass of gorgeous flowers
stood ready.
But Macrinus was not to be found, although Caesar had commanded him
yesterday to give in his report before doing anything else. He had twice
come to the antechamber, but had gone away again shortly before, and had
not yet returned.
Determined to let nothing damp his spirits, Caesar merely shrugged his
shoulders, and gave orders to admit the maiden, and--should they have
accompanied her--her father and brother. But neither Melissa nor the
men had appeared as yet, though Caracalla distinctly remembered having
commanded all three to visit him after the bath, which he had taken
several hours later than usual.
Vexed, and yet endeavoring to keep his temper, he went to the window.
The sky was overcast, and a sharp wind from the sea drove the first rain-
drops in his face.
In the wide square at his feet a spectacle presented itself which would
have delighted him at another time, when in better spirits.
The younger men of the city--as many as were of Greek extraction--were
trooping in. They were divided into companies, according to the
wrestling-schools or the Circus and other societies to which they
belonged. The youths marched apart from the married men, and one could
see that they came gladly, and hoped for much enjoyment from the events
of the day. Some of the others looked less delighted. They were
unaccustomed to obey the orders of a despot, and many were ill-pleased to
lose a whole day from their work or business. But no one was permitted
to absent himself; for, when the chief citizens had invited the emperor
to visit their wrestling-schools, he replied that he preferred to inspect
the entire male youths of Alexandria in the Stadium. This was situated
close by his residence in the Serapeum, and in this great space a
spectacle would be afforded to him at one glance, which he could
otherwise only enjoy by journeying laboriously from one gymnasium to
another. He loved the strong effects produced by great masses; and being
on the race-course, the wrestlers and boxers, the runners and discus-
throwers, could give proof of their strength, dexterity, and endurance.
It occurred to him at the moment that among these youths and men there
might be some of the descendants of the warriors who, under the command
of the great Alexander, had conquered the world. Here, then, was an
opportunity of gathering round him--rejuvenated and, so to speak, born
anew--those troops who, under the guidance of the man whose mission on
earth he was destined to accomplish, had won such deathless victories.
That was a pleasure he had every right to permit himself, and he wished
to show to Melissa the re-created military forces of him to whom, in a
former existence, as Roxana, she had been so dear.
Quick as ever to suit the deed to the word, he at once ordered the head
citizens to assemble the youth of Alexandria on the morning of the day in
question, and to form them into a Macedonian phalanx. He wished to
inspect them in the stadium, and they were now marching thither.
He had ordered helmets, shields, and lances to be made after well-known
Macedonian patterns and to be distributed to the new Hellenic legion.
Later on they might be intrusted with the guarding of the city, should
there be a Parthian war; and he required the attendance of the
Alexandrian garrison.
The inspection of this Greek regiment would be certain to give pleasure
to Melissa. He expected, too, to see Alexander among them. When once
his beloved shared the purple with him, he could raise her brother to the
command of this chosen phalanx.
Troop after troop streamed on to the course, and he thought he had seldom
seen anything finer than these slender youths, marching along with
elastic step, and garlands in their black, brown, or golden locks.
When the young noblemen who belonged to the school of Timagetes filed
past him, he took such delight in the beauty of their heads, the
wonderful symmetry of their limbs strengthened by athletic games, and the
supple grace of most of them, that he felt as if some magic spell had
carried him back to the golden age of Greece and the days of the Olympian
games in the Altis.
What could be keeping Melissa? This sight would assuredly please her,
and for once he would be able to say something flattering about her
people. One might easily overlook a good deal from such splendid youths.
Carried away by his admiration he waved his scarf to them, which being
remarked by the gymnasiarch, who with his two assistants-herculean
athletes--walked in front, was answered by him with a loud "Hail,
Caesar!"
The youths who followed him imitated his example, and the troop that came
after them returned his greeting loud and heartily. The young voices
could be heard from afar, and the news soon spread to the last ranks of
the first division to whom these greetings were addressed. But, among
the men who already were masters of households of their own, there were
many who deemed it shameful and unworthy to raise their voices in
greeting to the tyrant whose heavy hand had oppressed them more than
once; and a group of young men belonging to the party of the "Greens,"
who ran their own horses, had the fatal audacity to agree among
themselves that they would leave Caesar's greeting unanswered. A many-
headed crowd is like a row of strings which sound together as soon as the
note is struck to which they are all attuned; and so each one now felt
sure that his acclamation would only increase the insolence of this
fratricide, this bloodstained monster, this oppressor and enemy of the
citizens. The succeeding ranks of "Greens" followed the example, and
from the midst of a troop of young married men, members in the gymnasium
of the society of the Dioscuri, one foolhardy spirit had the reckless
temerity to blow a shrill, far-sounding whistle between his fingers.
He found no imitators, but the insulting sound reached the emperor's ear,
and seemed to him like the signal-call of Fate; for, before it had died
away, the clouds broke, and a stream of brilliant sunshine spread over
the race-course and the assembled multitude. The cloudy day that was
to have brought happiness to Caesar had been suddenly transformed by the
sun of Africa into a bright one; and the radiant light which cheered the
hearts of others seemed to him to be a message from above to warn him
that, instead of the highest bliss, this day would bring him
disappointment and misfortune. He said nothing of this, for there was no
one there in whom it would be any relief to confide, or of whose sympathy
he could be sure. But those who watched him as he retired from the
window saw plainly that the idyl, which he had promised them should begin
to-day, would assuredly not do so for the next few hours at least, unless
some miracle should occur. No, he would have to wait awhile for the
pastoral joys he had promised himself. And it seemed as if, instead of
the satyr-play of which old Julius Paulinus had spoken, that fatal
whistle had given the signal for another act in Caracalla's terrible
life-tragedy.
The "friends" of the emperor looked at him anxiously as, with furrowed
brow, he asked, impatiently: "Macrinus not here yet?"
Theocritus and others who had looked with envy upon Melissa and her
relatives, and with distrust upon her union with the emperor, now
heartily wished the girl back again.
But the prefect Macrinus came not; and while the emperor, having sent
messengers to fetch Melissa, turned with darkly boding brow to his
station overlooking the brightly lighted race-course, still hoping the
augury would prove false, and the sunny day turn yet in his favor,
Macrinus was in the full belief that the gate of greatness and power was
opening to him. Superstitious as the emperor himself and every one else
of his time, he was to-day more firmly persuaded than ever of the
existence of men whose mysterious wisdom gave them powers to which even
he must bend--the hard-headed man who had raised himself from the lowest
to the highest station, next to the Caesar himself.
In past nights the Magian Serapion had caused him to see and hear much
that was incomprehensible. He believed in the powers exerted by that
remarkable man over spirits, and his ability to work miracles, for he had
proved in the most startling manner that he had perfect control even over
such a determined mind as that of the prefect. The evening before, the
magician had bidden Macrinus come to him at the third hour after sunrise
of the next day, which he had unhesitatingly promised to do. But the
emperor had risen later than usual this morning, and the prefect might
expect to be called to his master at any moment. In spite of this, and
although his absence threatened to rouse Caesar to fury, and everything
pointed to the necessity of his remaining within call, Macrinus, drawn by
an irresistible craving, had followed the invitation, which sounded more
like a command. This, indeed, had seemed to him decisive; for, as the
seer ruled over his stern spirit, albeit he was alive, even so must the
spirits of the departed do his bidding. His every interest urged him now
to believe in the prophecy made to him by Serapion, to-day for the third
time, which foretold that he, the prefect, should mount the throne of the
Caesars, clad in the purple of Caracalla. But it was not alone to repeat
this prophecy that the seer had called Macrinus to him, but to inform him
that the future empress was betrothed to a young Alexandrian, and that
the tender intercourse between the lovers had not been interrupted during
Caracalla's courtship. This had come to Serapion's ears yesterday
afternoon, through his adroit assistant Kastor, and he had taken
advantage of the information to prepare Caesar during the night for the
faithlessness of his chosen bride.
The Magian assured the prefect that what the spirit of the great
Macedonian had hinted at yesterday had since been confirmed by the demons
in his service. It would now be easy for Macrinus to possibly hinder
Melissa, who might have been all-powerful, from coming between him and
the great goal which the spirits had set before him.
Serapion then repeated the prophecy, which came with such convincing
power from the bearded lips of the sage that the prudent statesman cast
his last doubts from him, and, exclaiming, "I believe your words, and
shall press forward now in spite of every danger!" he grasped the
prophet's hand in farewell.
Up to this point Macrinus, the son of a poor cobbler, who had had
difficulty in rearing his children at all, had received these prophetic
utterances with cool deliberation, and had ventured no step nearer to the
exalted aim which had been offered to his ambition. In all good faith he
had done his best to perform the duties of his office as an obedient
servant to his master and the state. This had all changed now, and,
firmly resolved to risk the struggle for the purple, he returned to the
emperor's apartments.
Macrinus had no reason to expect a favorable reception when he entered
the tablinum, but his great purpose upheld his courage. He, the upstart,
was well aware that Fortune requires her favorites to keep their eyes
open and their hands active. He therefore took care to obtain a full
account of what had happened from his confidential friend the senator
Antigonus, a soldier of mean birth, who had gained favor with Caesar by
a daring piece of horsemanship. Antigonus closed his report with the
impudent whistle of the Greek athlete; he dwelt chiefly on his
astonishment at Melissa's absence. This gave food for thought to the
prefect, too; but before entering the tablinum he was stopped by the
freedman Epagathos, who handed over to him a scroll which had been given
to him for the emperor. The messenger had disappeared directly
afterward, and could not be overtaken. Might it not endanger the life of
the reader by exhaling a poisonous perfume?
"Nothing is impossible here," answered the prefect. "Ours it is to
watch over the safety of our godlike master."
This letter was that which Melissa had intrusted to the slave Argutis for
Caesar, and with unwarrantable boldness the prefect and Epagathos now
opened it and ran rapidly over its contents. They then agreed to keep
this strange missive from the emperor till Macrinus should send to ask
whether the youths were assembled in their full number on the race-
course. They judged it necessary to prepare Caesar in some sort, to
prevent a fresh attack of illness.
Caracalla was standing near a pillar at the window whence he might see
without being seen. That whistle still shrilled in his ears. But
another idea occupied him so intensely that he had not yet thought of
wiping out the insult with blood.
What could be delaying Melissa and her father and brother?
The painter ought to have joined the other Macedonian youths on the race-
course, and Caracalla was engaged in looking out for him, stretching
forward every time he caught sight of some curly head that rose above the
others.
There was a bitter taste in his mouth, and at every fresh disappointment
his rebellious, tortured heart beat faster; and yet the idea that Melissa
might have dared to flee from him never entered his mind.
The high-priest of Serapis had informed him that his wife had seen
nothing of her as yet. Then it suddenly occurred to him that she might
have been wet through by the rain yesterday and now lay shaken by fever,
and that this must keep her father away, too; a supposition which cheered
the egoist more than it pained him, and with a sigh of relief he turned
once more to the window.
How haughtily these boys carried their heads; their fleet, elastic feet
skimmed over the ground; how daringly they showed off the strength and
dexterity that almost seemed their birthright! This reminded him that,
prematurely aged as he was by the wild excesses of his younger years,
with his ill-set broken leg and his thin locks, he must make a lamentable
contrast to these others of his own age; and he said to himself that
perhaps the whistle had come from the lips of one of the strongest and
handsomest, who had not considered him worth greeting.
And yet he was not weaker than any single individual down there; aye, and
if he chose he could crush them all together, as he would the glow-worm
creeping on that window-sill. With one quick squeeze of his fingers he
put an end to the pretty little insect, and at that moment he heard
voices behind him.
Had his beloved come at last?
No, it was only the prefect. He should have been there long ago, if he
were obedient to his sovereign's commands. Macrinus was therefore a
convenient object on which to vent his anger. How mean was the face of
this long-legged upstart, with its small eyes, sharp nose, and furrowed
brow! Could the beautiful Diadumenianus really be his son? No matter!
The boy, the apple of his father's eye, was in his power, and was a
surety for the old man's loyalty. After all, Macrinus was a capable,
serviceable officer, and easier to deal with than the Romans of the old
noble families.
Notwithstanding these considerations, Caracalla addressed the prefect as
harshly as if he had been a disobedient slave, but Macrinus received the
flood of abuse with patience and humility. When the emperor reproached
him with never being at hand when he was wanted, he replied submissively
that it was just because he found he could be of service to Caesar that
he had dared to absent himself. The refractory young brood down there
were being kept well in hand, and it was entirely owing to his effectual
measures that they had contented themselves with that one whistle. Later
on it would be their duty to punish such audacity and high-treason with
the utmost rigor.
The emperor gazed in astonishment at the counselor, who till now had ever
advised him to use moderation, and only yesterday had begged him to
ascribe much to Alexandrian manners, which in Rome would have had to be
treated with severity. Had the insolence of these unruly citizens be
come unbearable even to this prudent, merciful man?
Yes, that must be it; and the grudge that Macrinus now showed against the
Alexandrians hastened the pardon which Caesar silently accorded him.
Caracalla even said to himself that he had underrated the prefect's
intellect, for his eyes flashed and glowed like fire, notwithstanding
their smallness, and lending a force to his ignoble face which Caracalla
had never noticed before. Had Caesar no premonition that in the last
few hours this man had grown to be such another as himself?--for in his
unyielding mind the firm resolve had been strengthened to hesitate at
nothing--not even at the death of as many as might come between him and
his high aim, the throne.
Macrinus knew enough of human nature to observe the miserable disquietude
that had seized upon the emperor at his bride's continued absence, but he
took good care not to refer to the subject. When Caracalla, however,
could no longer conceal his anxiety, and asked after her himself, the
prefect gave the appointed sign to Epagathos, who then handed Melissa's
freshly re-sealed letter to his master.
"Let me open it, great Caesar," entreated Macrinus. "Even Homer called
Egypt the land of poison."
But the emperor did not heed him. No one had told him, and he had never
in his life received a letter in a woman's hand, except from his mother;
and yet he knew that this delicate little roll had come from a woman--
from Melissa.
It was closed with a silken thread, and the seal with which Epagathos had
replaced the one they had broken. If Caracalla tore it open, the papyrus
and the writing might be damaged. He called impatiently for a knife, and
the body physician, who had just entered with other courtiers, handed him
his.
"Back again?" asked Caracalla as the physician drew the blade from its
sheath.
"At break of day, on somewhat unsteady legs," was the jovial answer.
Caracalla took the knife from him, cut the silk, hastily broke the seal,
and began to read.
Till now his hands had performed their office steadily, but suddenly they
began to tremble, and while he ran his eye over Melissa's refusal--there
were but a few lines-his knees shook, and a sharp, low cry burst from
him, like no sound that lies by nature in the throat of man. Rent in two
pieces, the strip of papyrus fluttered to the ground.
The prefect caught the despot, who, seized with giddiness, stretched out
his hands as if seeking a support. The physician hurriedly brought out
the drug which Galenus had advised him to use in such cases, and which he
always carried with him, and then, pointing to the letter, asked the
prefect:
"In the name of all the gods, from whom?"
"From the gem-cutter's fair daughter," replied Macrinus, with a
contemptuous shrug.
"From her?" cried the physician, indignantly. From that light Phryne,
who kissed and embraced my rich host's son down there in his sick-room?
"At this the emperor, who had not lost consciousness for one moment,
started as if stung by a serpent, and sprang at the physician's throat
screaming while he threatened to strangle him:
"What was that? What did you say? Cursed babbler! The truth, villain,
and the whole truth, if you love your life!"
The half-choked man, ever prone to talking, had no reason for concealing
from Caesar what he had seen with his own eyes, and had subsequently
heard in the Serapeum and at the table of Polybius.
When life was at stake a promise to a freedman could be of no account,
so he gave free rein to his tongue, and answered the questions Caracalla
hoarsely put to him without reserve, and--being a man used to the ways of
a court--with insinuations that were doubly welcome to a judge so eager
for damning evidence.
Yesterday, the day before, and the day before that--every day on which
Melissa had pretended to feel the mysterious ties that bound her heart to
his, every day that she had feigned love and led him on to woo her, she
had--as he now learned--granted to another what she had refused to him
with such stern discretion. Her prayer for him, the sympathy she said
she felt, the maidenly sensibility which had charmed him in her--all, all
had been lies, deceit, sham, in order to attain an object. And that old
man and the brothers to serve whom she had dared to approach him--they
all knew the cruel game she was playing with him and his heart's
love. The lips that had lured him into the vilest trap with lying words
had kissed another. He seemed to hear the Alexandrians laughing at the
forsaken bridegroom, to see them pointing the finger of derision at the
man whom cunning woman had deceived even before marriage. What a feast
for their ribald wit!
And yet--he would have willingly borne it all, and more, for the
certainty that she had really loved him once; that her heart had been
his, if only for one short hour.
On those shreds of papyrus scattered over the floor she confessed she was
not able to accede to his wishes, because she had already given her faith
to another before she ever saw Caracalla. It was true she had felt
herself drawn to him as to no other but her betrothed; and had he been
content to let her be near him as a faithful servant and sicknurse, then
indeed . . . In short, he was informed in so many words that every
tie that bound her to him must be broken in favor of another, and the
hypocritical regret with which she sought to cover up the hard facts
only made him doubly indignant.
Lies, lies--even in this letter nothing but lies and heartless
dissimulation!
How it stabbed his heart! But he possessed the power to wound her in
return. Wild beasts should tear her fair body limb from limb, as she had
torn his soul in this hour.
One wish alone filled his heart--to see her whom he had loved above all
others, to whom he had revealed his inmost soul, for whose sake he had
amended his actions as he had never done for his own mother--to see her
lying in the dust before him, and to inflict upon her such tortures as no
mortal had ever endured before. And not only she, but all whom she loved
and who were her accomplices, should atone for the torment of this hour.
The time of reckoning had come, and every evil instinct of his nature
mingled its exulting voice with the anguished cries of his bleeding
heart.
The prefect knew his master well, and watched his every expression while
apparently listening to the voluble physician, but in reality absorbed in
a train of thought. By the twitching of his eyelids, the sharply
outlined red patches on his cheeks, the quivering nostrils, and the deep
furrows between his eyes, he must be revolving some frightful plan in his
mind.
Yesterday, had he found him in this condition, Macrinus would have
endeavored by every means in his power to calm his wrath; but to-day,
if Caesar had set the world in flames, he would only have added fuel to
the fire, for who could more surely upset the firmly established power
of this emperor and son of emperors as Caracalla himself? The people of
Rome had endured unimaginable sufferings at his hands; but the cup was
full, and, judging from Caesar's looks, he would cause it to overflow
this day. Then the rising flood which tore the son of an idolized father
from the throne, might possibly bear him, the child of lowliness and
poverty, into the palace.
But Macrinus remained silent. No word from him should change the tenor
of the emperor's thoughts. The plan he was thinking out must be allowed
to ripen to its full horror. The lowering, uncertain glance that
Caracalla cast round the tablinum at the close of the physician's
narrative showed that the prefect's reticence was an unnecessary
precaution.
Caesar's mind and tongue still seemed paralyzed; but at that moment
something occurred which recalled him to himself and brought firmness to
his wandering gaze.
There was a sudden disturbance in the antechamber, with a confused sound
of cries and shouting. Those friends of Caesar who wore swords drew
them, and Caracalla, who was unarmed, called to Antigonus to give him
his.
"A revolt?" he asked Macrinus with flashing eyes, and as if he wished
the answer to be in the affirmative; but the prefect had hastened to the
door with drawn sword. Before he reached it, it was thrown open, and
Julius Asper, the legate, burst into the tablinum as if beside himself,
crying: "Cursed den of murderers! An attempt on your life, great Caesar;
but we have him fast!"
"Assassination!" interrupted Caracalla with furious joy. "That was the
only thing left undone! Bring the murderer! But first"--and he
addressed himself to Aristides--"close the city gates and the harbor.
Not a man, not a ship must be let through without being searched. The
vessels that have weighed anchor since daybreak must be followed and
brought back. Mounted Numidians under efficient officers must scour the
high-roads as soon as the gate-keepers have been examined. Every house
must be open to your men, every temple, every refuge. Seize Heron, the
gem-cutter, his daughter, and his two sons. Also--Diodoros is the young
villain's name?--him, his parents, and everybody connected with them!
The physician knows where they are to be found. Alive, do you hear?--
not dead! I will have them alive! I give you till midnight! Your head,
if you let the jade and her brothers escape!"
With drooping head the unhappy officer departed. On the threshold he was
met by Martialis, the praetorian centurion. After him, his hands bound
behind his back, walked the criminal. A deep flush overspread his
handsome face, his eyes glowed under the too lofty brow with the fierce
light of fever, his waving locks stood out in wild confusion round his
head, while the finely cut upper lip with its disdainful curl seemed the
very seat of scorn and bitterest contempt. Every feature wore that same
expression, and not a trace of fear or regret. But his panting breast
betrayed to the physician's first glance that they had here to deal with
a sick man in raging fever.
They had already torn off his mantle and discovered beneath its folds the
sharp-edged butcher's knife which plainly betrayed his intentions. He
had penetrated to the first antechamber when a soldier of the Germanic
body-guard laid hold on him. Martialis had him by the girdle now, and
the emperor looked sharply and mistrustfully at the praetorian, as he
asked if it were he who had captured the assassin.
The centurion replied that he had not. Ingiomarus, the German, had
noticed the knife; he, Martialis, was here only in right of his privilege
as a praetorian to bring such prisoners before great Caesar.
Caracalla bent a searching gaze upon the soldier; for he thought he
recognized in him the man who had aroused his envy and whose happiness he
had once greatly desired to damp, when against orders he had received his
wife and child in the camp. Recollections rose in his mind that drove
the hot blood to his cheek, and he cried, disdainfully:
"I might have guessed it! What can be expected beyond the letter of
their service from one who so neglects his duties? Did you not disport
yourself with lewd women in the camp before my very eyes, setting at
naught the well-known rules? Hands off the prisoner! This is your last
day as praetorian and in Alexandria. As soon as the harbor is opened--
to-morrow, I expect--you go on board the ship that carries reinforcements
to Edessa. A winter on the Pontus will cool your lascivious blood."
This attack was so rapid and so unexpected to the somewhat dull-witted
centurion, that he failed at first to grasp its full significance. He
only understood that he was to be banished again from the loved ones he
had so long been deprived of. But when he recovered sufficiently to
excuse himself by declaring that it was his own wife and children who had
visited him, Caesar cut him short by commanding him to report his change
of service at once to the tribune of the legion.
The centurion bowed in silence and obeyed. Caracalla then went up to the
prisoner, and dragging him, weakly resisting, from the dark back ground
of the room to the window, he asked with a sneer:
"And what are assassins like in Alexandria? Ah, ha! this is not the
face of a hired cut-throat! Only thus do they look whose sharp wit I
will answer with still sharper steel."
"For that answer at least you are not wont to be at a loss," came
contemptuously from the lips of the prisoner.