THE CAMPUS.
Eques ipso melior Bellerophonte,
Neque pugno neque segni pede victus,
Simul unctos Tiberinis humeros lavit in undis.
HORACE. OD. III. 12.
"What ho! my noble Paullus," exclaimed a loud and cheerful voice, "whither
afoot so early, and with so grave a face?"
Arvina started; for so deep was the impression made on his mind by the
last words of Cicero, that he had passed out into the Sacred Way, and
walked some distance down it, toward the Forum, in deep meditation, from
which he was aroused by the clear accents of the merry speaker.
Looking up with a smile as he recognised the voice, he saw two young men
of senatorial rank—for both wore the crimson laticlave on the breast of
their tunics—on horseback, followed by several slaves on foot, who had
overtaken him unnoticed amid the din and bustle which had drowned the
clang of their horses’ feet on the pavement.
"Nay, I scarce know, Aurelius!" replied the young man, laughing; "I
thought I was going home, but it seems that my back is turned to my own
house, and I am going toward the market-place, although the Gods know that
I have no business with the brawling lawyers, with whom it is alive by
this time."
"Come with us, then," replied the other; "Aristius, here, and I, have made
a bet upon our coursers’ speed. He fancies his Numidian can outrun my
Gallic beauty. Come with us to the Campus; and after we have settled this
grave matter, we will try the _quinquertium_,(7) or a foot race in armor,
if you like it better, or a swim in the Tiber, until it shall be time to
go to dinner."
"How can I go with you, seeing that you are well mounted, and I afoot, and
encumbered with my gown? You must consider me a second Achilles to keep up
with your fleet coursers, clad in this heavy toga, which is a worse garb
for running than any panoply that Vulcan ever wrought."
"We will alight," cried the other youth, who had not yet spoken, "and give
our horses to the boys to lead behind us; or, hark you, why not send Geta
back to your house, and let your slaves bring down your horse too? If they
make tolerable speed, coming down by the back of the Cœlian, and thence
beside the _Aqua Crabra_(8) to the Carmental gate, they may overtake us
easily before we reach the Campus. Aurelius has some errand to perform
near the Forum, which will detain us a few moments longer. What say you?"
"He will come, he will come, certainly," cried the other, springing down
lightly from the back of his beautiful courser, which indeed merited the
eulogium, as well as the caresses which he now lavished on it, patting his
favorite’s high-arched neck, and stroking the soft velvet muzzle, which
was thrust into his hand, with a low whinnying neigh of recognition, as he
stood on the raised foot path, holding the embroidered rein carelessly in
his hand.
"I will," said Arvina, "gladly; I have nothing to hinder me this morning;
and for some days past I have been detained with business, so that I have
not visited the campus, or backed a horse, or cast a javelin—by Hercules!
not since the Ides, I fancy. You will all beat me in the field, that is
certain, and in the river likewise. But come, Fuscus Aristius, if it is to
be as you have planned it, jump down from your Numidian, and let your Geta
ride him up the hill to my house. I would have asked Aurelius, but he will
let no slave back his white NOTUS."
"Not I, by the twin horsemen! nor any free man either—plebeian, knight, or
noble. Since first I bought him of the blue-eyed Celt, who wept in his
barbarian fondness for the colt, no leg save only mine has crossed his
back, nor ever shall, while the light of day smiles on Aurelius Victor."
Without a word Fuscus leaped from the back of the fine blood-bay barb he
bestrode, and beckoning to a confidential slave who followed him, "Here,"
he said, "Geta, take Nanthus, and ride straightway up the Minervium to the
house of Arvina; thou knowest it, beside the Alban Mansions, and do as he
shall command you. Tell him, my Paullus."
"Carry this signet, my good Geta," said the young man, drawing off the
large seal-ring which adorned his right hand, and giving it to him, "to
Thrasea, my trusty freedman, and let him see that they put the housings
and gallic wolf-bit on the black horse Aufidus, and bring him thou, with
one of my slaves, down the slope of Scaurus, and past the Great Circus, to
the Carmental Gate, where thou wilt find us. Make good speed, Geta."
"Ay, do so," interposed his master, "but see that thou dost not blow
Nanthus; thou wert better be a dead slave, Geta, than let me find one drop
of sweat on his flank. Nay! never grin, thou hang-dog, or I will have thee
given to my Congers(9); the last which came out of the fish pond were but
ill fed; and a fat German, such as thou, would be a rare meal for them."
The slave laughed, knowing well that his master was but jesting, mounted
the horse, and rode him at a gentle trot, up the slope of the Cælian hill,
from which Arvina had but a little while before descended. In the mean
time, Aristius gave the rein of his dappled grey to one of his followers,
desiring him to be very gentle with him, and the three young men sauntered
slowly on along the Sacred Way toward the Forum, conversing merrily and
interchanging many a smile and salutation with those whom they met on
their road.
Skirting the base of the Palatine hill, they passed the old circular
temple of Remus to the right hand, and the most venerable relic of Rome’s
infancy, the Ruminal Fig tree, beneath which the she-wolf was believed to
have given suck to the twin progeny of Mars and the hapless Ilia. A little
farther on, the mouth of the sacred grotto called Lupercal, surrounded
with its shadowy grove, the favourite haunt of Pan, lay to their left; and
fronting them, the splendid arch of Fabius, surnamed Allobrox for his
victorious prowess against that savage tribe, gave entrance to the great
Roman Forum.
Immediately at their left hand as they entered the archway, was the superb
Comitium, wherein the Senate were wont to give audience to foreign
embassies of suppliant nations, with the gigantic portico, three columns
of which may still be seen to testify to the splendor of the old city, in
the far days of the republic. Facing them were the steps of the Asylum,
with the Mamertine prison and the grand façade of the temple of Concord to
the right and left; and higher above these the portico of the gallery of
records, and higher yet the temple of the thundering Jupiter, and
glittering above all, against the dark blue sky, the golden dome, and
white marble columns of the great capitol itself. Around in all directions
were basilicæ, or halls of justice; porticoes filled with busy lawyers;
bankers’ shops glittering with their splendid wares, and bedecked with the
golden shields taken from the Samnites; statues of the renowned of ages,
Accius Nævius, who cut the whetstone with the razor; Horatius Cocles on
his thunderstricken pedestal, halting on one knee from the wound which had
not hindered him from swimming the swollen Tiber; Clælia the hostage on
her brazen steed; and many another, handed down inviolate from the days of
the ancient kings. Here was the rostrum, beaked with the prows of ships, a
fluent orator already haranguing the assembled people from its
platform—there, the seat of the city Prætor, better known as the _Puteal
Libonis_, with that officer in session on his curule chair, his six
lictors leaning on their fasces at his back, as he promulgated his
irrevocable edicts.
It was a grand sight, surely, and one to gaze on which men of the present
day would do and suffer much; and judge themselves most happy if blessed
with one momentary glance of the heart, as it were, of the old world’s
mistress. But these young men, proud as they were, and boastful of the
glories of their native Rome, had looked too often on that busy scene to
be attracted by the gorgeousness of the place, crowded with buildings, the
like of which the modern world knows not, and thronged with nations of
every region of the earth, each in his proper dress, each seeking justice,
pleasure, profit, fame, as it pleased him, free, and fearless, and secure
of property and person. Casting a brief glance over it, they turned short
to the left, by a branch of the Sacred Way, which led, skirting the market
place, between the Comitium, or hall of the ambassadors, and the abrupt
declivity of the Palatine, past the end of the Atrium of Liberty, and the
cattle mart, toward the Carmental gate.
"Methought you said, my Fuscus, that our Aurelius had some errand to
perform in the Forum; how is this, is it a secret?" inquired Paullus,
laughing.
"No secret, by the Gods!" said Aurelius, "it is but to buy a pair of spurs
in Volero’s shop, hard by Vesta’s shrine."
"He will need them," cried Fuscus, "he will need them, I will swear, in
the race."
"Not to beat Nanthus," said Aurelius; "but oh! Jove! walk quickly, I
beseech you; how hot a steam of cooked meats and sodden cabbage, reeks
from the door of yon cook-shop. Now, by the Gods! it well nigh sickened
me! Ha! Volero," he exclaimed, as they reached the door of a booth, or
little shop, with neat leathern curtains festooned up in front, glittering
with polished cutlery and wares of steel and silver, to a middle aged man,
who was busy burnishing a knife within, "what ho! my Volero, some spurs—I
want some spurs; show me some of your sharpest and brightest."
"I have a pair, noble Aurelius, which I got only yesterday in trade with a
turbaned Moor from the deserts beyond Cyrenaica. By Mulciber, my patron
god! the fairest pair my eyes ever looked upon. Right loath was the swart
barbarian to let me have them, but hunger, hunger is a great tamer of your
savage; and the steam of good Furbo’s cook-shop yonder was suggestive of
savory chops and greasy sausages—and—and—in short, Aurelius, I got them at
a bargain."
While he was speaking, he produced the articles in question, from a strong
brass-bound chest, and rubbing them on his leather apron held them up for
the inspection of the youthful noble.
"Truly," cried Victor, catching them out of his hand, "truly, they are
good spurs."
"Good spurs! good spurs!" cried the merchant, half indignantly, "I call
them splendid, glorious, inimitable! Only look you here, it is all virgin
silver; and observe, I beseech you, this dragon’s neck and the sibilant
head that holds the rowels; they are wrought to the very life with horrent
scales, and erected crest; beautiful! beautiful!—and the rowels too of the
best Spanish steel that was ever tempered in the cold Bilbilis. Good spurs
indeed! they are well worth three _aurei_.(10) But I will keep them, as I
meant to do at first, for Caius Cæsar; he will know what they are worth,
and give it too."
"Didst ever hear so pestilent a knave?" said Victor, laughing; "one would
suppose I had disparaged the accursed things! But, as I said before, they
are good spurs, and I will have them; but I will not give thee three
aurei, master Volero; two is enough, in all conscience; or sixty denarii
at the most. Ho! Davus, Davus! bring my purse, hither, Davus," he called
to his slaves without; and, as the purse-bearer entered, he continued
without waiting for an answer, "Give Volero two aurei, and ten denarii,
and take these spurs."
"No! no!" exclaimed Volero, "you shall not—no! by the Gods! they cost me
more than that!"
"Ye Gods! what a lie! cost thee—and to a barbarian! I dare be sworn thou
didst not pay him the ten denarii alone."
"By Hercules! I did, though," said the other, "and thou shouldst not have
them for three _aurei_ either, but that it is drawing near the Calends of
November, and I have moneys to pay then."
"Sixty-five I will give thee—sixty-five denarii!"
"Give me my spurs; what, art thou turning miser in thy youth, Aurelius?"
"There, give him the gold, Davus; he is a regular usurer. Give him three
_aurei_, and then buckle these to my heel. Ha! that is well, my Paullus,
here come your fellows with black Aufidus, and our friend Geta on the
Numidian. They have made haste, yet not sweated Nanthus either. Aristius,
your groom is a good one; I never saw a horse that shewed his keeping or
condition better. Now then, Arvina, doff your toga, you will not surely
ride in that."
"Indeed I will not," replied Paullus, "if master Volero will suffer me to
leave it here till my return."
"Willingly, willingly; but what is this?" exclaimed the cutler, as Arvina
unbuckling his toga and suffering it to drop on the ground, stood clad in
his succinct and snow-white tunic only, girded about him with a zone of
purple leather, in which was stuck the sheathless dirk of Cataline. "What
is this, noble Paullus? that you carry at your belt, with no scabbard? If
you go armed, you should at least go safely. See, if you were to bend your
body somewhat quickly, it might well be that the keen point would rend
your groin. Give it me, I can fit it with a sheath in a moment."
"I do not know but it were as well to do so," answered Paullus,
extricating the dagger from his belt, "if you will not detain us a long
time."
"Not even a short time!" said the cutler, "give it to me, I can fit it
immediately." And he stretched out his hand and took it; but hardly had
his eye dwelt on it, for a moment, when he cried, "but this is not
yours—this is—where got you this, Arvina?"
"Nay, it is nought to thee; perhaps I bought it, perhaps it was given to
me; do thou only fit it with a scabbard."
"Buy it thou didst not, Paullus, I’ll be sworn; and I think it was never
given thee; and, see, see here, what is this I—there has been blood on the
blade!"
"Folly!" exclaimed the young man, turning first very red and then pale, so
that his comrades gazed on him with wonder, "folly, I say. It is not
blood, but water that has dimmed its shine;—and how knowest thou that I
did not buy it?"
"How do I know it?—thus," answered the artizan, drawing from a cupboard
under his counter, a weapon precisely the facsimile in every respect of
that in his hand: "There never were but two of these made, and I made
them; the scabbard of this will fit that; see how the very chased work
fits! I sold this, but not to you, Arvina; and I do not believe that it
was given to you."
"Filth that thou art, and carrion!" exclaimed the young man fiercely,
striking his hand with violence upon the counter, "darest thou brave a
nobleman? I tell thee, I doubt not at all that there be twenty such in
every cutler’s shop in Rome!—but to whom did’st thou sell this, that thou
art so certain?"
"Paullus Cæcilius," replied the mechanic gravely but respectfully, "I
brave no man, least of all a patrician; but mark my words—I did sell this
dagger; here is my own mark on its back; if it was given to thee, thou
must needs know the giver; for the rest, this _is_ blood that has dimmed
it, and not water; you cannot deceive me in the matter; and I would warn
you, youth,—noble as you are, and plebeian I,—that there are laws in Rome,
one of them called CORNELIA DE SICARIIS, which you were best take care
that you know not more nearly. Meantime, you can take this scabbard if you
will," handing to him, as he spoke, the sheath of the second weapon; "the
price is one sestertium; it is the finest silver, chased as you see, and
overlaid with pure gold."
"Thou hast the money," returned Paullus, casting down on the counter
several golden coins, stamped with a helmed head of Mars, and an eagle on
the reverse, grasping a thunderbolt in its talons—"and the sheath is mine.
Then thou wilt not disclose to whom it was sold?"
"Why should I, since thou knowest without telling?"
"Wilt thou, or not?"
"Not to thee, Paullus."
"Then will I find some one, to whom thou wilt fain disclose it!" he
answered haughtily.
"And who may that be, I beseech you?" asked the mechanic, half sneeringly.
"For my part, I fancy you will let it rest altogether; some one was hurt
with it last night, as you and _he_, we both know, can tell if you will!
But I knew not that you were one of his men."
There was an insolent sneer on the cutler’s face that galled the young
nobleman to the quick; and what was yet more annoying, there was an
assumption of mutual intelligence and equality about him, that almost
goaded the patrician’s blood to fury. But by a mighty effort he subdued
his passion to his will; and snatching up the weapon returned it to his
belt, left the shop, and springing to the saddle of his beautiful black
horse, rode furiously away. It was not till he reached the Carmental Gate,
giving egress from the city through the vast walls of Cyclopean
architecture, immediately at the base of the dread Tarpeian rock,
overlooked and commanded by the outworks and turrets of the capitol, that
he drew in his eager horse, and looked behind him for his friends. But
they were not in sight; and a moment’s reflection told him that, being
about to start their coursers on a trial of speed, they would doubtless
ride gently over the rugged pavement of the crowded streets.
He doubted for a minute, whether he should turn back to meet them, or wait
for their arrival at the gate, by which they must pass to gain the campus;
but the fear of missing them, instantly induced him to adopt the latter
course, and he sat for a little space motionless on his well-bitted and
obedient horse beneath the shadow of the deep gate-way.
Here his eye wandered around him for awhile, taking note indeed of the
surrounding objects, the great temple of Jupiter Stator on the Palatine;
the splendid portico of Catulus, adorned with the uncouth and grisly
spoils of the Cimbric hordes slaughtered on the plains of Vercellæ; the
house of Scaurus, toward which a slow wain tugged by twelve powerful oxen
was even then dragging one of the pondrous columns which rendered his hall
for many years the boast of Roman luxury; and on the other tall buildings
that stood every where about him; although in truth he scarce observed
what for the time his eye dwelt upon.
At length an impatient motion of his horse caused him to turn his face
toward the black precipice of the huge rock at whose base he sat, and in a
moment it fastened upon his mind with singular vividness—singular, for he
had paused fifty times upon that spot before, without experiencing such
feelings—that he was on the very pavement, which had so often been
bespattered with the blood of despairing traitors. The noble Manlius,
tumbled from the very rock, which his single arm had but a little while
before defended, seemed to lie there, even at his feet, mortally maimed
and in the agony of death, yet even so too proud to mix one groan with the
curses he poured forth against Rome’s democratic rabble. Then, by a not
inapt transition, the scene changed, and Caius Marcius was at hand, with
the sword drawn in his right, that won him the proud name of Coriolanus,
and the same rabble that had hurled Caius Manlius down, yelling and
hooting "to the rock with him! to the rock!" but at a safe and respectful
distance; their factious tribunes goading them to outrage and new riot.
It was strange that these thoughts should have occurred so clearly at this
moment to the excited mind of the young noble; and he felt that it was
strange himself; and would have banished the ideas, but they would not
away; and he continued musing on the inconstant turbulence of the
plebeians, and the unerring doom which had overtaken every one of their
idols, from the hands of their own partizans, until his companions at
length rode slowly up the street to join him.
There was some coldness in the manner of Aristius Fuscus, as they met
again, and even Aurelius seemed surprised and not well pleased; for they
had in truth been conversing earnestly about the perturbation of their
friend at the remarks of the artizan, and the singularity of his conduct
in wearing arms at all; and he heard Victor say just before they joined
company—
"No! that is not so odd, Fuscus, in these times. It was but two nights
since, as I was coming home something later than my wont from Terentia’s,
that I fell in with Clodius reeling along, frantically drunk and furious,
with half a dozen torch-bearers before, and half a score wolfish looking
gladiators all armed with blade and buckler, and all half-drunk, behind
him. I do assure you that I almost swore I would go out no more without
weapons."
"They would have done you no good, man," said Aristius, "if some nineteen
or twenty had set upon you. But an they would, I care not; it is against
the law, and no good citizen should carry them at all."
"Carry arms, I suppose you mean, Aristius," interrupted Paullus boldly.
"Ye are talking about me, I fancy—is it not so?"
"Ay, it is," replied the other gravely. "You were disturbed not a little
at what stout Volero said."
"I was, I was," answered Arvina very quickly, "because I could not tell
him; and it is not pleasant to be suspected. The truth is that the dagger
is not mine at all, and that it _is_ blood that was on it; for last
night—but lo!" he added, interrupting himself, "I was about to speak out,
and tell you all; and yet my lips are sealed."
"I am sorry to hear it," said Aristius, "I do not like mysteries; and this
seems to me a dark one!"
"It is—as dark as Erebus," said Paullus eagerly, "and as guilty too; but
it is not my mystery, so help me the god of good faith and honour!"
"That is enough said; surely that is enough for you, Aristius," exclaimed
the warmer and more excitable Aurelius.
"For you it may be," replied the noble youth, with a melancholy smile.
"You are a boy in heart, my Aurelius, and overflow so much with generosity
and truth that you believe all others to be as frank and candid. I alas!
have grown old untimely, and, having seen what I have seen, hold men’s
assertions little worth."
The hot blood mounted fiercely into the cheek of Paullus; and, striking
his horse’s flank suddenly with his heel, he made him passage half across
the street, and would have seized Aristius by the throat, had not their
comrade interposed to hinder him.
"You are both mad, I believe; so mad that all the hellebore in both the
Anticyras could not cure you. Thou, Fuscus, for insulting him with
needless doubts. Thou, Paullus, for mentioning the thing, or shewing the
dagger at all, if you did not choose to explain."
"I do _choose_ to explain," replied Cæcilius, "but I cannot; I have
explained it all to Marcus Tullius."
"To Cicero," exclaimed Aristius. "Why did you not say so before? I was
wrong, then, I confess my error; if Cicero be satisfied, it must needs be
all well."
"That name of Cicero is like the voice of an oracle to Fuscus ever!" said
Aurelius Victor, laughing. "I believe he thinks the new man from Arpinum a
very god, descended from Olympus!"
"No! not a God," replied Aristius Fuscus, "only the greatest work of God,
a wise and virtuous man, in an age which has few such to boast. But come,
let us ride on and conclude our race; and thou, Arvina, forget what I
said; I meant not to wrong thee."
"I have forgotten," answered Paullus; and, with the word, they gave their
horses head, and cantered onward for the field of Mars.
The way for some distance was narrow, lying between the fortified rock of
the Capitol, with its stern lines of immemorial ramparts on the right
hand, and on the left the long arcades and stately buildings of the
vegetable mart, on the river bank, now filled with sturdy peasants, from
the Sabine country, eager to sell their fresh green herbs; and blooming
girls, from Tibur and the banks of Anio, with garlands of flowers, and
cheeks that outvied their own brightest roses.
Beyond these, still concealing the green expanse of the level plain, and
the famous river, stood side by side three temples, sacred to Juno Matuta,
Piety, and Hope; each with its massy colonnade of Doric or Corinthian, or
Ionic pillars; the latter boasting its frieze wrought in bronze; and that
of Piety, its tall equestrian statue, so richly gilt and burnished that it
gleamed in the sunlight as if it were of solid gold.
Onward they went, still at a merry canter, their generous and high mettled
coursers fretting against the bits which restrained their speed, and their
young hearts elated and bounding quickly in their bosoms, with the
excitement of the gallant exercise; and now they cleared the last winding
of the suburban street, and clothed in its perennial verdure, the wide
field lay outspread, like one sheet of emerald verdure, before them, with
the bright Tiber flashing to the sun in many a reach and ripple, and the
gay slope of the Collis Hortulorum, glowing with all its terraced gardens
in the distance.
A few minutes more brought them to the Flaminian way, whereon, nearly
midway the plain, stood the _diribitorium_, or pay-office of the troops;
the porticoes of which were filled with the soldiers of Metellus Creticus,
and Quintus Marcius Rex, who lay with their armies encamped on the low
hills beyond the river, waiting their triumphs, and forbidden by the laws
to come into the city so long as they remained invested with their
military rank. Around this stately building were many colonnades, and open
buildings adapted to the exercises of the day, when winter or bad weather
should prevent their performance in the open mead, and stored with all
appliances, and instruments required for the purpose; and to these Paullus
and his friends proceeded, answering merely with a nod or passing jest the
salutations of many a helmed centurion and gorgeous tribune of the
soldiery.
A grand Ionic gateway gave them admittance to the hippodrome, a vast oval
space, adorned with groups of sculpture and obelisks and columns in the
midst; on some of which were affixed inscriptions commemorative of great
feats of skill or strength or daring; while others displayed placards
announcing games or contests to take place in future, and challenges of
celebrated gymnasts for the cestus fight, the wrestling match, or the
foot-race.
Around the outer circumference were rows of seats, shaded by plane trees
overrun with ivy, and there were already seated many young men of noble
birth, chatting together, or betting, with their waxed tablets and their
_styli_(11) in their hands, some waiting the commencement of the race
between Fuscus and Victor, others watching with interest the progress of a
sham fight on horseback between two young men of the equestrian order,
denoted by the narrow crimson stripes on their tunics, who were careering
to and fro, armed with long staves and circular bucklers, in all the swift
and beautiful movements of the mimic combat.
Among those most interested in this spectacle, the eye of Arvina fell
instantly on the tall and gaunt form of Catiline, who stood erect on one
of the marble benches, applauding with his hands, and now and then
shouting a word of encouragement to the combatants, as they wheeled by him
in the mazes of their half angry sport. It was not long, however, before
their strife was brought to a conclusion; for, almost as the friends
entered, the hindmost horseman of the two made a thrust at the other,
which taking effect merely on the lower rim of his antagonist’s _parma_,
glanced off under his outstretched arm, and made the striker, in a great
measure, lose his balance. As quick as light, the other wheeled upon him,
feinted a pass at his breast with the point of the staff; and then, as he
lowered his shield to guard himself, reversed the weapon with a swift turn
of the wrist, dealt him a heavy blow with the trunchon on the head; and
then, while the whole place rang with tumultuous plaudits, circled
entirely round him to the left, and delivered his thrust with such effect
in the side, that it bore his competitor clear out of the saddle.
"Euge! Euge! well done," shouted Catiline in ecstacy; "by Hercules! I
never saw in all my life better skirmishing. It is all over with Titus
Varus!"
And in truth it was all over with him; but not in the sense which the
speaker meant: for, as he fell, the horses came into collision, and it so
happened that the charger of the conqueror, excited by the fury of the
contest, laid hold of the other’s neck with his teeth, and almost tore
away a piece of the muscular flesh at the very moment when the rider’s
spur, as he fell, cut a long gash in his flank.
With a wild yelling neigh, the tortured brute yerked out his heels
viciously; and, as ill luck would have it, both took effect on the person
of his fallen master, one striking him a terrible blow on the chest, the
other shattering his collar bone and shoulder.
A dozen of the spectators sprang down from the seats and took him up
before Paullus could dismount to aid him; but, as they raised him from the
ground, his eyes were already glazing.
"Marcius has conquered me," he muttered in tones of deep mortification,
unconscious, as it would seem, of his agony, and wounded only by the
indomitable Roman pride; and with the words his jaw dropped, and his last
strife was ended.
"The fool!" exclaimed Cataline, with a bitter sneer; "what had he got to
do, that he should ride against Caius Marcius, when he could not so much
as keep his saddle, the fool!"
"He is gone!" cried another; "game to the last, brave Varus!"
"He came of a brave race," said a third; "but he rode badly!"
"At least not so well as Marcius," replied yet a fourth; "but who does? To
be foiled by him does not argue bad riding."
"Who does? why Paullus, here," cried Aurelius Victor; "I’ll match him, if
he will ride, for a thousand sesterces—ten thousand, if you will."
"No! I’ll not bet about it. I lost by this cursed chance," answered the
former speaker; "but Varus did not ride badly, I maintain it!" he added,
with the steadiness of a discomfited partisan.
"Ay! but he did, most pestilently," interposed Catiline, almost fiercely;
"but come, come, why don’t they carry him away? we are losing all the
morning."
"I thought he was a friend of yours, Sergius," said another of the
bystanders, apparently vexed at the heartlessness of his manner.
"Why, ay! so he was," replied the conspirator; "but he is nothing now: nor
can my friendship aught avail him. It was his time and his fate! ours, it
may be, will come to-morrow. Nor do I see at all wherefore our sports
should not proceed, because a man has gone hence. Fifty men every day die
somewhere, while we are dining, drinking, kissing our mistresses or wives;
but do we stop for that? Ho! bear him hence, we will attend his funeral,
when it shall be soever; and we will drink to his memory to-day. What
comes next, comrades?"
Arvina, it is true, was for a moment both shocked and disgusted at the
heartless and unfeeling tone; but few if any of the others evinced the
like tenderness; for it must be remembered, in the first place, that the
Romans, inured to sights of blood and torture daily in the gladiatorial
fights of the arena, were callous to human suffering, and careless of
human life at all times; and, in the second, that Stoicism was the
predominant affectation of the day, not only among the rude and coarse,
but among the best and most virtuous citizens of the republic. Few,
therefore, left the ground, when the corpse, decently enveloped in the
toga he had worn when living, was borne homewards; except the involuntary
homicide, who could not even at that day in decency remain, and a few of
his most intimate associates, who covering their faces in the lappets of
their gowns, followed the bearers in stern and silent sorrow.
Scarcely then had the sad procession threaded the marble archway, before
Catiline again asked loudly and imperiously,
"What is to be the next, I pray you? are we to sit here like old women by
their firesides, croaking and whimpering till dinner time?"
"No! by the gods," cried Aurelius, "we have a race to come off, which I
propose to win. Fuscus Aristius here, and I—we will start instantly, if no
one else has the ground."
"Away with you then," answered the other; "come sit by me, Arvina, I would
say a word with you."
Giving his horse to one of his grooms, the young man followed him without
answer; for although it is true that Catiline was at this time a marked
man and of no favorable reputation, yet squeamishness in the choice of
associates was never a characteristic of the Romans; and persons, the
known perpetrators of the most atrocious crimes, so long as they were
unconvicted, mingled on terms of equality, unshunned by any, except the
gravest and most rigid censors. Arvina, too, was very young; and very
young men are often fascinated, as it were, by great reputations, even of
great criminals, with a passionate desire to see them more closely, and
observe the stuff they are made of. So that, in fact, Catiline being
looked upon in those days much as a desperate gambler, a celebrated
duellist, or a famous seducer of our own time, whom no one shuns though
every one abuses, it was not perhaps very wonderful if this rash, ardent,
and inexperienced youth should have conceived himself flattered by such
notice, from one of whom all the world was talking; and should have
followed him to a seat with a sense of gratified vanity, blended with
eager curiosity.
The race, which followed, differed not much from any other race; except
that the riders having no stirrups, that being a yet undiscovered luxury,
much less depended upon jockeyship—the skill of the riders being limited
to keeping their seats steadily and guiding the animals they bestrode—and
much more upon the native powers, the speed and endurance of the coursers.
So much, however, was Arvina interested by the manner and conversation of
the singular man by whose side he sat, and who was indeed laying himself
out with deep art to captivate him, and take his mind, as it were, by
storm, now with the boldest and most daring paradoxes; now with bursts of
eloquent invective against the oppression and aristocratic insolence of
the cabal, which by his shewing governed Rome; and now with sarcasm and
pungent wit, that he saw but little of the course, which he had come
especially to look at.
"Do you indeed ride so well, my Paullus?" asked his companion suddenly, as
if the thought had been suggested by some observation he had just made on
the competitors, as they passed in the second circuit. "So well, I mean,
as Aurelius Victor said; and would you undertake the combat of the horse
and spear with Caius Marcius?"
"Truly I would," said Arvina, blushing slightly; "I have interchanged many
a blow and thrust with young Varro, whom our master-at-arms holds better
with the spear than Marcius; and I feel myself his equal. I have been
practising a good deal of late," he added modestly; "for, though perhaps
you know it not, I have been elected _decurio_;(12) and, as first chosen,
leader of a troop, and am to take the field with the next reinforcements
that go out to Pontus to our great Pompey."
"The next reinforcements," replied Catiline with a meditative air: "ha!
that may be some time distant."
"Not so, by Jupiter! my Sergius; we are already ordered to hold ourselves
in readiness to march for Brundusium, where we shall ship for Pontus. I
fancy we shall set forth as soon as the consular comitia have been held."
"It may be so," said the other; "but I do not think it. There may fall out
that which shall rather summon Pompey homeward, than send more men to join
him. That is a very handsome dagger," he broke off, interrupting himself
suddenly—"where did you get it? I should like much to get me such an one
to give to my friend Cethegus, who has a taste for such things. I wonder,
however, at your wearing it so openly."
Taken completely by surprise, Arvina answered hastily, "I found it last
night; and I wear it, hoping to find the owner."
"By Hercules!" said the conspirator laughing; "I would not take so much
pains, were I you. But, do you hear, I have partly a mind myself to claim
it."
"No! you were better not," said Paullus, gravely; "besides, you can get
one just like this, without risking any thing. Volero, the cutler, in the
Sacred Way, near Vesta’s temple, has one precisely like to this for sale.
He made this too, he tells me; though he will not tell me to whom he sold
it; but that shall soon be got out of him, notwithstanding."
"Ha! are you so anxious in the matter? it would oblige you, then, if I
should confess myself the loser! Well, I don’t want to buy another; I want
this very one. I believe I must claim it."
He spoke with an emphasis so singular; impressive, and at the same time
half-derisive, and with so strangely-meaning an expression, that Paullus
indeed scarcely knew what to think; but, in the mean time, he had
recovered his own self-possession, and merely answered—
"I think you had better not; it would perhaps be dangerous!"
"Dangerous? Ha! that is another motive. I love danger! verily, I believe I
must; yes! I must claim it."
"What!" exclaimed Paullus, turning pale from excitement; "Is it yours? Do
you say that it is yours?"
"Look! look!" exclaimed Catiline, springing to his feet; "here they come,
here they come now; this is the last round. By the gods! but they are
gallant horses, and well matched! See how the bay courser stretches
himself, and how quickly he gathers! The bay! the bay has it for five
hundred sesterces!"
"I wager you," said a dissolute-looking long-haired youth; "I wager you
five hundred, Catiline. I say the gray horse wins."
"Be it so, then," shouted Catiline; "the bay, the bay! spur, spur,
Aristius Fuscus, Aurelius gains on you; spur, spur!"
"The gray, the gray! There is not a horse in Rome can touch Aurelius
Victor’s gray South-wind!" replied the other.
And in truth, Victor’s Gallic courser repaid his master’s vaunts; for he
made, though he had seemed beat, so desperate a rally, that he rushed past
the bay Arab almost at the goal, and won by a clear length amidst the
roars of the glad spectators.
"I have lost, plague on it!" exclaimed Catiline; "and here is Clodius
expects to be paid on the instant, I’ll be sworn."
And as he spoke, the debauchee with whom he had betted came up, holding
his left hand extended, tapping its palm with the forefinger of the right.
"I told you so," he said, "I told you so; where be the sesterces?"
"You must needs wait a while; I have not my purse with me," Catiline
began. But Paullus interrupted him—
"I have, I have, my Sergius; permit me to accommodate you." And suiting
the action to the word, he gave the conspirator several large gold coins,
adding, "you can repay me when it suits you."
"That will be never," said Clodius with a sneer; "you don’t know Lucius
Catiline, I see, young man."
"Ay, but he does!" replied the other, with a sarcastic grin; "for Catiline
never forgets a friend, or forgives a foe. Can Clodius say the same?"
But Clodius merely smiled, and walked off, clinking the money he had won
tauntingly in his hand.
"What now, I wonder, is the day destined to bring forth?" said the
conspirator, making no more allusion to the dagger.
"A contest now between myself, Aristius, and Aurelius, in the five games
of the _quinquertium_, and then a foot race in the heaviest panoply."
"Ha! can you beat them?" asked Catiline, regarding Arvina with an interest
that grew every moment keener, as he saw more of his strength and daring
spirit.
"I can try."
"Shall I bet on you?"
"If you please. I can beat them in some, I think; and, as I said, I will
try in all."
More words followed, for Paullus hastened away to strip and anoint himself
for the coming struggle; and in a little while the strife itself
succeeded.
To describe this would be tedious; but suffice it, that while he won
decidedly three games of the five, Paullus was beat in none; and that in
the armed foot race, the most toilsome and arduous exercise of the Campus,
he not only beat his competitors with ease; but ran the longest course,
carrying the most ponderous armature and shield, in shorter time than had
been performed within many years on the Field of Mars.
Catiline watched him eagerly all the while, inspecting him as a purchaser
would a horse he was about to buy; and then, muttering to himself, "We
must have him!" walked up to join him as he finished the last exploit.
"Will you dine with me, Paullus," he said, "to-day, and meet the loveliest
women you can see in Rome, and no prudes either?"
"Willingly," he replied; "but I must swim first in the Tiber!"
"Be it so, there is time enough; I will swim also." And they moved down in
company toward the river.