It was not yet dusk. The sun shone on the bronze roof of the temple of
Apollo, making such a contrast to, and harmony with, marble and the
green of giant cypresses as only music can suggest. The dying breeze
stirred hardly a ripple on the winding ponds, so marble columns, trees
and statuary were reflected amid shadows of the swans in water tinted by
the colors of the sinking sun. There was a murmur of wind in the tops
of the trees and a stirring of linen-clad girls near the temple
entrance--voices droning from the near-by booths behind the shrubbery--
one flute, like the plaint of Orpheus summoning Eurydice--a blossom-
scented air and an enfolding mystery of silence.
Pertinax, the governor of Rome, had merely hinted at Olympian desire,
whereat some rich Antiochenes, long privileged, had been ejected with
scant ceremony from a small marble pavilion on an islet, formed by a
branch of the River Ladon that had been guided twenty years ago by
Hadrian's engineers in curves of exquisitely studied beauty. From
between Corinthian columns was a view of nearly all the temple precincts
and of the lawns where revelers would presently forget restraint. The
first night of the Daphne season usually was the wildest night of all
the year, but they began demurely, and for the present there was the
restraint of expectation.
Because there was yet snow on mountain-tops and the balmy air would
carry a suggestion of a chill at sunset, there were cunningly wrought
charcoal braziers set near the gilded couches, grouped around a
semicircular low table so as to give each guest an unobstructed view
from the pavilion. Pertinax--neither guest nor host, but a god, as it
were, who had arrived and permitted the city of Antioch to ennoble
itself by paying his expenses--stretched his long length on the middle
couch, with Galen the physician on his right hand, Sextus on his left.
Beyond Galen lay Tarquinius Divius and Sulpicius Glabrio, friends of
Pertinax; and on Sextus' left was Norbanus, and beyond him Marcus Fabius
a young tribune on Pertinax' staff. There was only one couch
unoccupied.
Galen was an older man than Pertinax, who was already graying at the
temples. Galen had the wrinkled, smiling, shrewd face of an old
philosopher who understood the trick of making himself socially
prominent in order to pursue his calling unimpeded by the bitter
jealousies of rivals. He understood all about charlatanry, mocked it in
all its disguises and knew how to defeat it with sarcastic wit. He wore
none of the distinguishing insignia that practising physicians usually
favored; the studied plainness of his attire was a notable contrast to
the costly magnificence of Pertinax, whose double-purple-bordered and
fringed toga, beautifully woven linen and jeweled ornaments seemed
chosen to combine suggestions of the many public offices he had
succeeded to.
He was a tall, lean, handsome veteran with naturally curly fair hair and
a beard that, had it been dark, would have made him look like an
Assyrian. There was a world of humor in his eyes, and an expression on
his weathered face of wonder at the ways of men--an almost comical
confession of his own inferiority of birth, combined with matter-of-fact
ability to do whatever called for strength, endurance and mere ordinary
common sense.
"You are almost ashamed of your own good fortune," Galen told him. "You
wear all that jewelry, and swagger like the youngest tribune, to conceal
your diffidence. Being honest, you are naturally frugal; but you are
ashamed of your own honesty, so you imitate the court's extravagance and
made up for it with little meannesses that comfort your sense of
extremes. The truth is, Pertinax, you are a man with a boy's
enthusiasms, a boy with a man's experience."
"You ought to know," said Pertinax. "You tutored Commodus. Whoever
could take a murderer at the age of twelve and keep him from breaking
the heart of a Marcus Aurelius knows more about men and boys than I do."
"Ah, but I failed," said Galen. "The young Commodus was like a nibbling
fish; you thought you had him, but he always took the bait and left the
hook. The wisdom I fed to him fattened his wickedness. If I had known
then what I have learned from teaching Commodus and others, not even
Marcus Aurelius could have persuaded me to undertake the task--medical
problem though it was, and promotion though it was, and answer though it
was to all the doctors who denounced me as a charlatan. I bought my
fashionable practise at the cost of knowing it was I who taught young
Commodus the technique of wickedness by revealing to him all its
sinuosities and how, and why, it floods a man's mind."
"He was a beast in any case," said Pertinax.
"Yes, but a baffled, blind beast. I removed the bandage from his eyes."
"He would have pulled it off himself."
"I did it. I turned a mere golden-haired savage into a criminal who
knows what he is doing."
"Well, drink and forget it!" said Pertinax. "I, too, have done things
that are best forgotten. We attain success by learning from defeat, and
we forget defeat in triumph. I know of no triumph that did not blot out
scores of worse things than defeat. When I was in Britain I subdued
rebellion and restored the discipline of mutinying legions. How? I am
not such a fool as to tell you all that happened! When I was in Africa
men called me a great proconsul. So I was. They would welcome me back
there, if all I hear about the present man is true. But do you suppose
I did not fail in certain instances? They praise me for the aqueducts I
built, and for the peace I left along the border. But I also left dry
bones, and sons of dead men who will teach their grandsons how to hate
the name of Rome! I sent a hundred thousand slaves from Africa.
Sometimes, when I have dined unwisely and there is no Galen near to
freshen up my belly juices, I have nightmares, in which men and women
cry to me for water that I took from them to pour into the cities. I
have learned this, Galen: Do one thing wisely and you will commit ten
follies. You are lucky if you have but ten failures to detract from one
success--as lucky as a man who has but ten mistresses to interfere with
his enjoyment of his wife!"
He spoke of mistresses because the girls were coming down the temple
steps to take part in the sunset ceremony. The torches they carried
were unlighted yet; their figures, draped in linen, looked almost
super-humanly lovely in the deepening twilight, and as they laid their
garlands on the marble altar near the temple steps and grouped
themselves again on either side of it their movements suggested a
phantasmagoria fading away into infinite distance, as if all the
universe were filled with women without age or blemish. There began to
be a scent of incense in the air.
"We only imitate this kind of thing in Rome," said Pertinax. "A larger
scale, a coarser effect. What I find thrilling is the sensation they
contrive here of unseen mysteries. Whereas--"
"There won't be any mystery left presently! They'll strip your last
veil from imagination!" Sextus interrupted, laughing. "Men say Hadrian
tried to chasten this place, but he only made them realize the artistic
value of an appearance of chastity, that can be thrown off. Hark! The
evening hymn."
The torches suddenly were lighted by attendant slaves. The stirring,
shaken sistra wrought a miracle of sound that set the nerves all
tingling as the high priest, followed by his boys with swinging censers
and the members of the priestly college, four by four, came chanting
down the temple steps. To an accompanying pleading, sobbing note of
flutes the high priest laid an offering of fruit, milk, wine and honey
in the midst of the heaped-up garlands (for Apollo was the god of all
fertility as well as of healing and war and flocks and oracles). Then
came the grand Homeric hymn to Glorious Apollo, men's and boys' and
women's voices blending in a surging paean like an ocean's music.
The last notes died away in distant echoes. There was silence for a
hundred breaths; then music of flute and lyre and sistra as the priests
retreated up the temple steps followed by fanfare on a dozen trumpets as
the door swung to behind the priests. Instantly, then, shouts of
laughter--torchlight scattering the shadows amid gloom--green cypresses
--fire--color splurging on the bosom of the water--babel of hundreds of
voices as the gay Antiochenes swarmed out from behind the trees--and a
cheer, as the girls by the altar threw their garments off and scampered
naked along the river-bank toward a bridge that joined the temple island
to the sloping lawns, where the crowd ran to await them.
"Apollo having healed the world of sin, we now do what we like!" said
Sextus. "Pertinax, I pledge you continence for this one night! Good
Galen, may Apollo's wisdom ooze from you like sweat; for all our sakes,
be you the arbiter of what we drink, lest drunkenness deprive us of our
reason! Comites, let us eat like warriors--one course, and then
discussion of tomorrow's plan."
"Your military service should have taught you more respect for your
seniors, as well as how to eat and drink temperately," said Pertinax.
"Will you teach your grandmother to suck eggs? I was the first
grammarian in Rome before you were born and a tribune before you felt
down on your cheek. I am the governor of Rome, my boy. Who are you,
that you should lecture me?"
"If you call that a lecture, concede that I dared," Sextus answered. "I
did not flatter you by coming here, or come to flatter you. I came
because my father tells me you are a Roman beyond praise. I am a Roman.
I believe praise is worthless unless proven to the hilt--as for
instance: I have come to bare my thoughts to you, which is a bold
compliment in these days of treachery."
"Keep your thoughts under cover," said Pertinax, glancing at the steward
and the slaves who were beginning to carry in the meal. But he was
evidently pleased, and Sextus's next words pleased him more:
"I am ready to do more than think about you, I will follow where you
lead--except into licentiousness!"
He lay on both elbows and stared at the scene with disgust. Naked girls,
against a background of the torchlit water and the green and purple
gloom of cypresses, was nothing to complain of; statuary, since it could
not move, was not as pleasing to the eye; but shrieks of idiotic
laughter and debauchery of beauty sickened him.
There came a series of sounds at the pavilion entrance, where a litter
was set down on marble pavement and a eunuch's shrill voice criticized
the slow unrolling of a carpet.
"What did I warn you?" Norbanus whispered, laughing in Sextus's ear.
Pertinax got to his feet, long-leggedly statuesque, and strode toward
the antechamber on his right, whence presently he returned with a woman
on his arm, he stroking her hand as it rested on his. He introduced
Sextus and Norbanus; the others knew her; Galen greeted her with a
wrinkled grin that seemed to imply confidence.
"Now that Cornificia has come, not even Sextus need worry about our
behavior!" said Galen, and everybody except Sextus grinned. It was
notorious that Cornificia refined and restrained Pertinax, whereas his
lawful wife Flavia Titiana merely drove him to extremes.
This Roman Aspasia had an almost Grecian face, beneath a coiled
extravagance of dark brown hair. Her violet eyes were quietly
intelligent; her dress plain white and not elaborately fringed, with
hardly any jewelry. She cultivated modesty and all the older graces
that had grown unfashionable since the Emperor Marcus Aurelius died. In
all ways, in fact, she was the opposite of Flavia Titiana--it was hard
to tell whether from natural preference or because the contrast to his
wife's extremes of noisy gaiety and shameless license gave her a
stronger hold on Pertinax. Rome's readiest slanderers had nothing
scandalous to tell of Cornificia, whereas Flavia Titiana's inconstancies
were a by-word.
She refused to let Galen yield the couch on Pertinax's right hand but
took the vacant one at the end of the half-moon table, saying she
preferred it--which was likely true enough; it gave her a view of all
the faces without turning her head or appearing to stare.
For a long time there was merely desultory conversation while the feast,
restricted within moderate proportions by request of Pertinax, was
brought on.
There were eels, for which Daphne was famous; alphests and callichthys;
pompilos, a purple fish, said to have been born from sea-foam at the
birth of Aphrodite; boops and bedradones; gray mullet; cuttle-fish;
tunny-fish and mussels. Followed in their order pheasants, grouse,
swan, peacock and a large pig stuffed with larks and mincemeat. Then
there were sweetmeats of various kinds, and a pudding invented in
Persia, made with honey and dates, with a sauce of frozen cream and
strawberries. By Galen's order only seven sorts of wine were served, so
when the meal was done the guests were neither drunk nor too well fed to
carry on a conference.
No entertainers were provided. Normally the space between the table and
the front of the pavilion would have been occupied by acrobats, dancers
and jugglers; but Pertinax dismissed even the impudent women who came
to lean elbows on the marble railing and sing snatches of suggestive
song. He sent slaves to stand outside and keep the crowd away, his
lictor and his personal official bodyguard being kept out of sight in a
small stone house near the pavilion kitchen at the rear among the trees,
in order not to arouse unwelcome comment. It was known he was in
Daphne; there was even a subdued expectation in Antioch that his
unannounced visit portended the extortion of extra tribute. The Emperor
Commodus was known to be in his usual straits for money. Given a
sufficient flow of wine, the sight of bodyguard and lictor might have
been enough to start a riot, the Antiochenes being prone to outbreak
when their passions were aroused by drink and women.
There was a long silence after Pertinax had dismissed the steward.
Galen's old personal attendant took charge of the amphora of snow-cooled
Falernian; he poured for each in turn and then retired into a corner to
be out of earshot, or at any rate to emphasize that what he might hear
would not concern him. Pertinax strolled to the front of the pavilion
and looked out to make sure there were no eavesdroppers, staring for a
long time at the revelry that was warming up into an orgy. They were
dancing in rings under the moon, their shadowy figures rendered weird by
smoky torchlight. Cornificia at last broke on his reverie:
"You wish to join them, Pertinax? That would dignify even our Roman
Hercules--to say nothing of you!"
He shrugged his shoulders, but his eyes were glittering.
"If Marcia could govern Commodus as you rule me, he would be safer on
the throne!" he answered, coming to sit upright on the couch beside her.
It was evident that he intended that speech to release all tongues; he
looked from face to face expectantly, but no one spoke until Cornificia
urged him to protect himself against the night breeze. He threw a
purple-bordered cloak over his shoulders. It became him; he looked so
official in it, and majestic, that even Sextus--rebel that he was
against all modern trumpery--forebore to break the silence. It was
Galen who spoke next:
"Pertinax, if you might choose an emperor, whom would you nominate?
Remember: He must be a soldier, used to the stench of marching legions.
None could govern Rome whose nose goes up in the air at the smell of
sweat and garlic."
There was a murmur of approval. Cornificia stroked the long, strong
fingers of the man she idolized. Sextus gave rein to his impulse then,
brushing aside Norbanus' hand that warned him to bide his time:
"Many more than I," he said, "are ready to throw in our lot with you,
Pertinax--aye, unto death! You would restore Rome's honor. I believe my
father could persuade a hundred noblemen to take your part, if you would
lead. I can answer for five or six men of wealth and influence, not
reckoning a friend or two who--"
"Why talk foolishness!" said Pertinax. "The legions will elect
Commodus' successor. They will sell Rome to the highest bidder,
probably; and though they like me as a soldier they dislike my
discipline. I am the governor of Rome and still alive in spite of it
because even Commodus' informers know it would be silly to accuse me of
intrigue. Not even Commodus would listen to such talk. I lead the gay
life, for my own life's sake. All know me as a roisterer. I am said to
have no ambition other than to live life sensuously."
Galen laughed.
"That may deceive Commodus," he said. "The thoughtful Romans know you
as a frugal governor, who stamped out plague and--"
"You did that," said Pertinax.
"Who enabled me?"
"It was a simple thing to have the tenements burned. Besides, it
profited the city--new streets; and there was twice the amount of tax
on the new tenements they raised. I, personally, made a handsome profit
on the purchase of a few burned houses."
"And as the governor who broke the famine," Galen continued.
"That was simple enough, but you may as well thank Cornificia. She found
out through the women who the men were who were holding corn for
speculation. All I did was to hand their names to Commodus; he
confiscated all the corn and sold it--at a handsome profit to himself,
since it had cost him nothing!"
"While we sit here and cackle like Asian birds, Commodus renames Rome
the City of Commodus and still lives!" Sextus grumbled.
"Nor can he be easily got rid of," remarked Daedalus the tribune. "He
goes to and fro from the palace through underground tunnels. Men sleep
in his room who are all involved with him in cruelties and infamy, so
they guard him carefully. Besides, whoever tried to murder him would
probably kill Paulus by mistake! The praetorian guard is contented,
being well paid and permitted all sorts of privileges. Who can get past
the praetorian guard?"
"Any one!" said Pertinax. "The point is not, who shall kill Commodus?
But who shall be raised in his place? There are thirty thousand ways to
kill a man. Ask Galen!"
Old Galen laughed at that.
"As many ways as there are stars in heaven; but the stars have their
say in the matter! None can kill a man until his destiny says yes to
it. Not even a doctor," he added, chuckling. "Otherwise the doctors
would have killed me long ago with jealousy! A man dies when his inner
man grows sick and weary of him. Then a pin-prick does it, or a sudden
terror. Until that time comes you may break his skull, and do not more
than spoil his temper! As a philosopher I have learned two things:
respect many, but trust few. But as a doctor I have learned only one
thing for certain: that no man actually dies until his soul is tired of
him."
"Whose soul should grow sick sooner than that of Commodus?" asked
Sextus.
"Not if his soul is evil and delights in evil--as his does!" Galen
retorted. "If he should turn virtuous, then perhaps, yes. But in that
case we should wish him to live, although his soul would prefer the
contrary and leave him to die by the first form of death that should
appear--in spite of all the doctors and the guards and tasters of the
royal food."
"Some one should convert him then!" said Sextus. "Cornificia, can't
Marcia make a Christian of him; Christians pretend to oppose all the
infamies he practises. It would be a merry joke to have a Christian
emperor, who died because his soul was sick of him! It would be a
choice jest--he being the one who has encouraged Christianity by
reversing all Marcus Aurelius' wise precautions against their seditious
blasphemy!"
"You speak fanatically, but you have touched the heart of the problem,"
said Cornificia. "It is Marcia who makes life possible for Commodus--
Marcia and her Christians. They help Marcia protect him because he is
the only emperor who never persecuted them, and because Marcia sees to
it that they are free to meet together without having even to bribe the
police. There is only one way to get rid of Commodus: Persuade Marcia
that her own life is in danger from him, and that she will have a full
voice in nominating his successor."
"Probably true," remarked Pertinax. "Whom would she nominate? That is
the point."
"It would be simpler to kill Marcia," said Daedalus. "Thereafter let
things take their course. Without Marcia to protect him--"
"No man knows much," Galen interrupted. "Marcia's soul may be all the
soul Commodus has! If she should grow sick of him--!"
"She grew sick long ago," said Cornificia. "But she is forever thinking
of her Christians and knows no other way to protect them than to make
Commodus love her. Ugh! It is like the story of Andromeda. Who is to
act Perseus?"
(In the fable, Andromeda had to be chained to a cliff to be devoured by
a monster, in order to save her people from the anger of the god
Poseidon. Perseus slew the monster.)
"There are thirty thousand ways of killing," Pertinax repeated, "but if
we kill one monster, four or five others will fight for his place,
unless, like Perseus, we have the head of a Medusa with which to freeze
them into stone! There is no substitute for Commodus in sight. The
only man whose face would freeze all rivals is Severus the
Carthaginian!"
"We are none of us blind," said Cornificia.
"You mean me? I am too old," answered Pertinax. "I don't like tyranny,
and people know it. It is something they should not know. An old man
may be all very well when he has reigned for twenty years and men are
used to him, and he used to the task, as was Augustus; but an old man
new to the throne lacks energy. And besides, they would never endure a
man whose father was a charcoal-seller, as mine was. I have made my way
in life by looking at facts and refusing to deceive myself; with the
exception of that, I have no especial wisdom, nor any unusual ability."
"If wisdom were all that is needed," said Sextus, "we should put good
Galen on the throne!"
"He is too old and wise to let you try to do it!" Galen answered. "But
you spoke about the head of a Medusa, Pertinax, and mentioned Lucius
Septimius Severus. He commands three legions at Caruntum in Pannonia.
(Roughly speaking, the S.W. portion of modern Hungary whose frontiers
were then occupied by very warlike tribes.) If there is one man living
who can freeze men's blood by scowling at them, it is he! And he is not
as old as you are."
"I have thought of him only to hate him," said Pertinax. "He would not
follow me, nor I him. He is one of three men who would fight for the
throne if somebody slew Commodus, although he would not run the risk of
slaying him himself, and he would betray us if we should take him into
confidence. I know him well. He is a lawyer and a Carthaginian. He
would never ask for the nomination; he is too crafty. He would say his
legions nominated him against his will and that to have disobeyed them
would have laid him open to the punishment for treason. (This is what
Severus actually did, later on, after Pertinax's death.) The other two
are Pescennius Niger, who commands the legions in Syria, and Clodius
Albinus who commands in Britain. We must find a man who can forestall
all three of them by winning, first, the praetorian guard, and then the
senate and the Romans by dint of sound reforms and justice."
"You are he! Rome trusts you. So does the senate," said Cornificia.
"Marcia trusts me. The praetorian guard trusts her. If I can persuade
Marcia that her life is in danger from Commodus--"
"But how?" Daedalus interrupted.
"We can take the praetorian guard by surprise," Cornificia went on,
ignoring him. "They can be tricked into declaring for the man whom
Marcia's friends nominate. Having once declared for him they will be
too proud of having made an emperor, and too unwilling to seem
vacillating, to reverse themselves in any man's favor, even though he
should command six legions. The senate will gladly accept one who has
governed Rome as frugally as Pertinax has done. If the senate confirms
the nominee of the praetorian guard, the Roman populace will do the rest
by acclamation. Then, three months of upright government--deification
by the senate--"
Pertinax laughed explosively--an honest, chesty laugh, unqualified by
any subtleties, suggesting a trace of the peasantry from which he
sprang. It made Cornificia wince.
"Can you imagine me a god?" he asked.
"I can imagine you an emperor," said Sextus. "It is true; you have no
following among the legions just at present. But I make one, and there
are plenty of energetic men who think as I do. My friend Norbanus here
will follow me. My father--"
Noises near the open window interrupted him. An argument seemed to be
going on between the slaves whom Pertinax had set to keep the roisterers
away and some one who demanded admission. Near at hand was a woman's
voice, shrilling and scolding. Then another voice--Scylax, the slave
who had ridden the red mare. Pertinax strode to the window again and
leaned out. Cornificia whispered to Galen:
"If the truth were known, he is afraid of Flavia Titiana. As a wife she
is bad enough, but as an empress--"
Galen nodded.
"If you love your Pertinax," he answered, "keep him off the throne! He
has too many scruples."
She frowned, having few, which were firm and entirely devoted to
Pertinax' fortune.
"Love him? I would give him up to see him deified!" she whispered; and
again Galen nodded, deeply understanding.
"That is because you have never had children," he assured her, smiling.
"You mother Pertinax, who is more than twice your age--just as Marcia
has mothered that monster Commodus until her heart is breaking."
"But I thought you were Pertinax' friend?"
"So I am."
"And his urgent adviser to--"
"Yes, so I was. I have changed my opinion; only the maniacs never do
that. Pertinax would make a splendid minister for Lucius Severus; and
the two of them could bring back the Augustan days. Persuade him to it.
He must forget he hates him."
"Let him come!" said the voice of Pertinax. He was still leaning out,
with one hand on a marble pillar, much more interested in the moonlit
view of revelry than in the altercation between slaves. He strolled
back and stood smiling at Cornificia, his handsome face expressing
satisfaction but a rather humorous amusement at his inability to
understand her altogether.
"Are you like all other women?" he asked. "I just saw a naked woman
stab a man with her hairpin and kick his corpse into the shrubbery
before the breath was out of it!"
"Galen has deserted you," said Cornificia. The murder was
uninteresting; nobody made any comment.
"Not he!" Pertinax answered, and went and sat on Galen's couch. "You
find me not man enough for the senate to make a god of me--is that it,
Galen?"
"Too much of a man to be an emperor," said Galen, smiling amid wrinkles.
"By observing a man's virtues one may infer what his faults are. You
would try to rule the empire honestly, which is impossible. A more
dishonest man would let it rule itself and claim the credit, whereas you
would give the praise to others, who would shoulder off the work and all
the blame on to you. An empire is like a human body, which heals itself
if the head will let it. Too many heads--a conference of doctors--and
the patient dies! One doctor, doing nothing with an air of confidence,
and the patient gets well! There, I have told you more than all the
senate knows!"
Came Scylax, out of breath, less menial than most men's slaves, his head
and shoulders upright and the hand that held a letter thrust well
forward as if what he had to do were more important than the way he did
it.
"This came," he said, standing beside Sextus' couch. "Cadmus brought
it, running all the way from Antioch."
His hand was trembling; evidently Cadmus had by some means learned the
contents of the letter and had told.
"I and Cadmus--" he said, and then hesitated.
"What?"
"--are faithful, no matter what happens."
Scylax stood erect with closed lips. Sextus broke the seal, merely
glancing at Pertinax, taking permission for granted. He frowned as he
read, bit his lip, his face growing crimson and white alternately. When
he had mastered himself he handed the letter to Pertinax.
"I always supposed you protected my father," he said, struggling to
appear calm. But his eyes gave the story away--grieved, mortified,
indignant. Scylax offered him his arm to lean on. Norbanus, setting
both hands on his shoulders from behind, obliged him to sit down.
"Calm!" Norbanus whispered, "Calm! Your friends are your friends. What
has happened?"
Pertinax read the letter and passed it to Cornificia, then paced the
floor with hands behind him.
"Is that fellow to be trusted?" he asked with a jerk of his head toward
Scylax. He seemed nearly as upset as Sextus was.
Sextus nodded, not trusting himself to speak, knowing that if he did he
would insult a man who might be guiltless in spite of appearances.
"Commodus commanded me to visit Antioch, as he said, for a rest," said
Pertinax. "The public excuse was, that I should look into the
possibility of holding the Olympic games here. Strangely enough, I
suspected nothing. He has been flatteringly friendly of late. Those
whom I requested him to spare, he spared, even though their names were
on his proscription list and I had not better excuse than that they had
done no wrong! The day before I left I brought a list to him of names
that I commended to his favor--your father's name among them, Sextus."
Pertinax turned his back again and strode toward the window, where he
stood like a statue framed in the luminous gloom. The only part of him
that moved was his long fingers, weaving together behind him until the
knuckles cracked.
Cornificia, subduing her contralto voice, read the letter aloud:
"To Nimius Secundus Sextus, son of Galienus Maximus, the freedman Rufus
Glabrio sends humble greeting.
"May the gods give solace and preserve you. Notwithstanding all your
noble father's piety--his respect for elders and superiors--he was
accused of treason and of blasphemy toward the emperor, by whose orders
he was seized yesterday and beheaded the same day. The estates have
already been seized. It is said they will be sold to Asinus Sejanus,
who is probably the source of the accusation against your father.
"I and three other freedmen made our escape and will attempt to reach
Tarentum, where we will await instructions from you. Titus, the son of
the freedman Paulinus, will convey this letter to Brundisium and thence
by boat to Dyrrachium, whence he will send it by post in the charge of a
Jew whom he says he can trust.
"It is a certainty that orders will go forth to seize yourself, since
the estates in Antioch are known to be of great value. Therefore, we
your true friends and devoted servants, urge you to make all speed in
escaping. Stay not to make provision for yourself, but travel without
encumbrances. Hide! Hasten!
"We commend this letter to you as a sure proof that we ourselves are to
be trusted, since, if it should fall into the hands of an informer by
the way, our lives undoubtedly would pay the forfeit. We have not much
money, but enough for the expenses of a journey to a foreign land. The
place where we will hide near Tarentum is known to you. In deep
anxiety, and not without such sacrifices to the gods and to the manes of
your noble ancestors as means permit, we will await your coming."
--RUFUS GLABRIO "Freedman of the illustrious Galienus Maximus."
Pertinax turned from the window. "The Jews have a saying," he said,
"that who keepeth his mouth and his tongue, keepeth his soul from
trouble. Often I warned Maximus that he was too free with his speech.
He counted too much on my protection. Now it remains to be seen whether
Commodus has not proscribed me!"
Sextus and Norbanus stood together, Scylax behind them, Norbanus
whispering; plainly enough Norbanus was urging patience--discretion--
deliberate thought, whereas Sextus could hardly think at all for anger
that reddened his eyes.
"What can I do for you? What can I do?" wondered Pertinax.
Then Cornificia was on her feet.
"There is nothing--nothing you can do!" she insisted. She avoided
Galen's eyes; the old philosopher was watching her as if she were the
subject of some new experiment. "Let Commodus learn as much as that
Sextus was here in this pavilion and--"
Sextus interrupted, very proudly:
"I will not endanger my friends. Who will lend me a dagger? This toy
that I wear is too short and not sharp. You may forget me, Pertinax.
My slaves will bury me. But play you the man and save Rome!"
Then the tribune spoke up. He was younger than all of them.
"Sextus is right. They will know he was here. They will probably
torture his slaves and learn about that letter that has reached him. If
he runs and hides, we shall all be accused of having helped him to
escape; whereas--"
"What?" Galen asked him as he hesitated.
"If he dies by his own hand, he will not only save all his slaves from
the torture but remove the suspicion from us and we will still be free
to mature our--"
"Cowardice!" Norbanus finished the sentence for him.
"Aye, some of us would hardly feel like noble Romans!" Pertinax said
grimly. "Possibly I can protect you, Sextus. Let us think of some
great favor you can do the emperor, providing an excuse for me to
interfere. I might even take you to Rome with me and--"
Galen laughed, and Cornificia drew in her breath, bit her lip.
"Why do you laugh, Galen?" Pertinax strode over to him and stood
staring.
"Because," said Galen, "I know so little after all. I cannot tell a
beast's blood from a man's. Our Commodus would kill you with all the
more peculiar enjoyment because he has flattered you so often publicly
and called you 'father Pertinax.' He poisoned his own father; why not
you? They will tell him you have frequently befriended Sextus. They
will show him Sextus' father's name on that list of names that you
commended to his favor. Do you follow me?"
"By Jupiter, not I!" said Pertinax.
"He is sure to learn about this letter that has come." said Galen. "If
you, in fearful loyalty to Commodus, should instantly attempt to make a
prisoner of Sextus; if, escaping, he is killed, and you bear witness--
that would please Commodus almost as much as to see gladiators killed in
the arena. If you wept over the death of Sextus, that would please him
even more. He would enjoy your feelings. Do you remember how he picked
two gladiators who were brothers twins they were--and when the slayer of
his twin-brother saluted, Commodus got down into the arena and kissed
him? You yourself must announce to him the news of Sextus' death, and
he will kiss you also!"
"Vale!" remarked Sextus. "I die willingly enough."
"You are dead already," Galen answered. "Didn't Pertinax see some one's
body kicked into the bushes?"
There was silence. They all glanced at one another. Only Galen,
sipping at his wine, seemed philosophically calm.
"I personally should not be an eye-witness," Galen remarked. "I am a
doctor, whose certificate of death not even Commodus would doubt. In
the dark I might recognize Sextus' garments, even though I could not see
his features. And--" he added pointedly--"neither I nor any one can
tell a beast's blood from a man's."
"Daedalus!" said Pertinax with sudden resolution. "Get my purse. My
slave has it. Sextus shall not go empty-handed."