"Have you had any dealings with Sextus?"
"Never."
He was shifting now from one foot to the other, hardly noticeably, but
enough to make Marcia smile. "Shall we hear what Sextus has to say to
that?" asked Cornificia, so confidently that there was no doubt Marcia
had given her the signal.
Marcia moved her melting, lazy, laughing eyes and Cornificia clapped her
hands. A slave came.
"Bring the astrologer."
Sextus must have been listening, he appeared so instantly. He stood
with folded arms confronting them, his weathered face in sunlight.
Pigment was not needed to produce the healthy bronze hue of his skin;
his curly hair, bound by a fillet, was unruly from the outdoor life he
had been leading; the strong sinews of his arms and legs belied the ease
of his pretended calling and the starry cloak he wore was laughable in
its failure to disguise the man of action. He saluted the three women
with a gesture of the raised right hand that no man unaccustomed to the
use of arms could imitate, then turning slightly toward Livius,
acknowledged his nod with a humorous grin.
"So we meet again, Bultius Livius."
"Again?" asked Marcia.
"Why yes, I met him in the house of Pertinax. It is three days since we
spoke together. Three, or is it four, Livius? I have been busy. I
forget."
"Can Livius have lied?" asked Marcia. She seemed to be enjoying the
entertainment.
Livius threw caution to the winds.
"Is this a tribunal?" he demanded. "If so, of what am I accused?" He
tried to speak indignantly, but something caught in his throat. The
cough became a sob and in a moment he was half-hysterical. "By
Hercules, what judges! What a witness! Is he a two-headed witness who
shall swear my life away? I understand you, Marcia!"
(At least two witnesses were necessary under Roman law.)
"You?" she laughed. "You understand me?"
He recovered something of his self-possession, a wave of virility
returning. High living and the feverish excitement of the palace regime
had ruined his nerves but there were traces still of his original
astuteness. He resumed his air of dignity.
"Pardon me," he said. "I have been overworked of late. I must see
Galen about this jumpiness. When I said I understand you I meant, I
realize that you are joking. Naturally you would not receive a
highwayman in Cornificia's house, and at the same time accuse me of
treason! Pray excuse my outburst--set it to the score of ill-health. I
will see Galen."
"You shall see him now!" laughed Marcia, and Cornificia clapped her
hands.
Less suddenly than Sextus had appeared, because his age was beginning to
tell on him, Galen entered the court through a door behind the palm-
trees and stood smiling, making his old-world, slow salute to Marcia.
His bright eyes moved alertly amid wrinkles. He looked something like
the statues of the elder Cato, only with a kindlier humor and less
obstinacy at the corners of the mouth. Two slaves brought out a couch
for him and vanished when he had taken his ease on it after fussing a
little because the sun was in his eyes.
"My trade is to oppose death diplomatically," he remarked. "I am a poor
diplomatist. I only gain a little here and there. Death wins
inevitably. Nevertheless, they only summon me for consultation when
they hope to gain a year or two for somebody. Marcia, unless you let
Bultius Livius use that couch he will swoon. I warn you. The man's
heart is weak. He has more brain than heart," he added. "How is our
astrologer?"
He greeted Sextus with a wrinkled grin and beckoned him to share his
couch. Sextus sat down and began chafing the old doctor's legs. Marcia
took her time about letting Livius be seated.
"You heard Galen?" she asked. "We are here to cheat death
diplomatically."
"Whose death?" Livius demanded.
"Rome's!" said Marcia, her eyes intently on his face. "If Rome should
split in three parts it would fall asunder. None but Commodus can save
us from a civil war. We are here to learn what Bultius Livius can do to
preserve the life of Commodus."
Livius' face, grotesque already with its hastily smeared carmine,
assumed new bewilderment.
"I have seen men tortured who were less ready to betray themselves,"
said Galen. "Give him wine--strong wine, that is my advice."
But Marcia preferred her victim thoroughly subjected.
"Fill your eyes with sunlight, Livius. Breathe deep! You look and
breathe your last, unless you satisfy me! This astrologer, who is not
Sextus--mark that! I have said he is not Sextus. Galen certified to
Sextus' death and there were twenty other witnesses. Nor is he Maternus
the highwayman. Maternus was crucified. That other Maternus, who is
rumored to live in the Aventine Hills, is an imaginary person--a mere
name used by runaways who take to robbery. This astrologer, I say,
reports that you know all the secrets of the factions that are
separately plotting to destroy our Commodus."
Livius did not answer, although she paused to give him time.
"You said you understood me, Livius. But it is I who understand you--
utterly! To you any price is satisfactory if your own skin and
perquisites are safe. You are as crafty a spy as any rat in the palace
cellars. You have kept yourself informed in order to get the pickings
when you see at last which side to take. Careful, very clever of you,
Livius! But have you ever seen an eagle rob a fish-hawk of its catch?"
"Why waste time?" Cornificia asked impatiently. "He forced himself on
Pertinax, who should have had him murdered, only Pertinax is too
indifferent to his own--"
"Too philosophical!" corrected Galen.
Then Caia Poppeia spoke up, in a young, hard voice that had none of
Marcia's honeyed charm. No doubt of her was possible; she could be
cruel for the sake of cruelty and loyal for the sake of pride. Her
beauty was a mere means to an end--the end intrigue, for the
impassionate excitement of it. She was straight-lipped, with a smile
that flickered, and a hard light in her blue eyes.
"It was I who learned you spy on Marcia. I know, too, that you keep a
spy in Britain,--one in Gaul, another in Severus' camp. I read the last
nine letters they sent you. I showed them to Marcia."
"I kept one," Marcia added. "It came yesterday. It compromises you
beyond--"
"I yield!" said Livius, his knees beginning to look weak.
"To whom? To me?" asked Sextus, standing up abruptly and confronting
him with folded arms. "Who stole the list I sent to Pertinax, of names
of the important men who are intriguing for Severus, and for Pescennius
Niger, and for Clodius Albinus?"
"Who knows?" Livius shrugged his shoulders.
"None knew of that list but you!" said Sextus. "You heard me speak of
it to Pertinax. You heard me promise I would send it to him. None but
you and he and I knew who the messenger would be. Where is the
messenger?"
"In the sewers probably!" said Marcia. "The list is more important."
"If it isn't in the sewers, too," said Livius, snatching at a straw.
"By Hercules, I know nothing of a list."
"Then you shall drown with Sextus' slave in the Cloaca Maxima, the great
sewer of Rome," said Marcia. "Not that I need the list. I know what
names are written on it. But if it should have fallen into Caesar's
hands--"
She shuddered, acting horror perfectly, and Livius, like a drowning man
who thinks he sees the shore, struck out and sank!
"You threaten me, but I am no such fool as you imagine! I know all
about you! I perceive you have crossed your Rubicon. Well--"
"Summon the decurion and two men!" Marcia interrupted, glancing at
Cornificia. But she made a gesture with her hand that Cornificia
interpreted to mean "do nothing of the kind!"
Livius did not see the gesture. Rage, shame, terror overwhelmed him and
he blurted out the information Marcia was seeking--hurled it at her in
the form of silly, useless threats:
"You wanton! You can kill me but my journal is in safe hands! Harm me--
cause me to be missing from the palace for a few hours, and they may
light your funeral fires! My journal, with the names of the
conspirators, and all the details of your daily intriguing, goes
straight into Caesar's hands!"
The climax he expected failed. There was no excitement. Nobody seemed
astonished. Marcia settled herself more comfortably on the couch and
Galen began whispering to Sextus. The two other women looked amused.
Reaction sweeping over him, his senses reeled and Livius stepped
backward, staggering to the fountain, where he sat down.
"Bona dea! But the man took time to tell his secret!" Marcia exclaimed.
"Popeia, you had better take my litter to the palace and bring that minx
Cornelia. I suspected it was she but wasn't sure of it. Don't give her
an inkling of what you know. Go with her to her apartment and watch her
dress; then make an excuse to keep her waiting in your room while you
go back and search hers. Have help if you need it; take two of my
eunuchs, but watch that they don't read the journal. Look under her
mattress. Look everywhere. If you can't find the journal, bring
Cornelia without it. I will soon make her tell us where it is."