Pratinas Meets Ill-Fortune
I
Probably of the various personages mentioned in the course of our
story none was more thoroughly enjoying life about this time than
Agias. Drusus had left him in the city when he started for Ravenna,
with general instructions to keep an eye on Lucius Ahenobarbus and
Pratinas, and also to gather all he could of the political drift among
the lower classes. Agias was free now. He let his hair grow long in
token of his newly gained liberty; paraded a many-folded toga; and
used part of the donatives which Drusus and Fabia had lavished upon
him, in buying one or two slave-boys of his own, whom, so far from
treating gently on account of his own lately servile position, he
cuffed and abused with grim satisfaction at being able to do what had
so often been done to him.
Agias had been given lodgings by Drusus in a tenement house, owned by
the latter, in the Subura.
The rooms were over a bakery, and at the sides were a doctor's and
surgeon's office and a barber's shop--a rendezvous which gave the
young Greek an admirable chance to pick up the current gossip. Every
street-pedler, every forum-idler, had his political convictions and
pet theories. The partisans who arrogated to themselves the modest
epithet of "The Company of All Good Men," clamoured noisily that
"Liberty and Ancient Freedom" were in danger, if Caesar set foot in
Rome save as an impeached traitor. And the Populares--the supporters
of the proconsul--raged equally fiercely against the greed of the
Senate party that wished to perpetuate itself forever in office. Agias
could only see that neither faction really understood the causes for
and against which they fought; and observed in silence, trusting that
his patron knew more of the issues than he.
But the newly manumitted freedman was thoroughly enjoying himself. The
windy speeches in the Senate, the crowded and excited meetings in the
Forum, the action and reaction of the tides of popular prejudice and
fancy, the eloquence of Antonius, and the threatenings and ravings of
Marcellus the consul--all these were interesting but not disturbing.
Agias was catching glimpses of a little Olympus of his own--an Olympus
in which he was at once Zeus, Poseidon, and Apollo; Sesostris--so he
declared--the lame cup-bearer Hephaestus; and in place of Hera, Athena,
and Aphrodite, were the smiles and laughter of Artemisia. Agias was
head over ears in love with this pretty little cage-bird shut up in
Pratinas's gloomy suite of rooms. Her "uncle" took her out now and
then to the theatre or to the circus; but she had had little enough
companionship save such as Sesostris could give; and to her, Agias was
a wonderful hero, the master of every art, the victor over a hundred
monsters. He had told her of his adventure with Phaon--not calling
names, lest disagreeable consequences ensue--and Artemisia dreamed of
him as the cleverest creature on the earth, able to outwit Hermes in
subtlety. Agias had found out when Pratinas was likely to be away from
home--and that worthy Hellene, be it said, never declined an
invitation to dine with a friend--and Agias timed his visits
accordingly. He taught Artemisia to play the cithera and to sing, and
she made such rapid progress under his tutoring that the unconscious
Pratinas commended her efforts to acquire the accomplishments he
wished. And Agias was never so happy as when those bright eyes were
hanging on his lips or that merry tongue was chattering a thousand
pointless remarks or jests.
Yes, Agias found himself in a condition when he could well ask to have
no change. The possibility that Pratinas would come home, and put an
end to the romance once and for all, was just great enough to give the
affair the zest of a dangerous adventure. Despite Sesostris's warnings
that Artemisia might at any time be sold away by her pseudo-uncle,
Agias could not discover that that danger was imminent enough to need
frustration. He was content to live himself and to let Artemisia live,
basking in the stolen sunshine of the hour, and to let the thought of
the approaching shadows fade out of his mind.
Another person who saw the sunshine rather brighter than before was
Pisander. That excellent philosopher had received his share of the
gratitude Drusus had bestowed on his deliverers. But he was still in
the service of Valeria, for Drusus saw that he had admirable
opportunities for catching the stray bits of political gossip that
inevitably intermixed themselves with the conversation of Valeria and
her circle. Pisander had continued to read Plato to his mistress, and
to groan silently at her frivolity; albeit, he did not groan so
hopelessly as before, because he had good money in his pouch and knew
where to procure more when he needed it.
So Agias enjoyed himself. He was a youth; a Pagan youth; and in his
short life he had seen many a scene of wickedness and shame. Yet there
was nothing unholy in the affection which he found was daily growing
stronger and stronger for Artemisia. She was a pure, innocent flower,
that by the very whiteness of her simple sweet presence drove away
anything that "defiled or made a lie." Agias did not worship her; she
was too winning; too cunning and pretty to attract the least
reverence; but in her company the young Greek was insensibly raised
pinnacles above the murky moral atmosphere in which most men and
youths of his station walked.
It was all like an Idyl of Theocritus; with the tenement of Pratinas
for a shepherd's hut; and Sesostris for a black-backed sheep to whom
the herdsmen and the nymph of his love could play on "oaten reed." At
first, Agias had never dreamed of telling a word of his affection to
Artemisia. In truth, it was very hard to tell, for she, with an
absolute innocence, took all his advances for far more than they were
worth; told him that next to her "uncle and dear Sesostris" he was
quite the best friend she had; that she loved him, and was glad to
hear him say that he loved her.
All this was delightful in the ears of her admirer, but very
disconcerting. Agias thought of the hollow civilities of Valeria's
life, as he had seen it; of the outward decorum of language, of the
delicately veiled compliments, of the interchange of words that summed
up, in a few polished commonplaces, a whole network of low intrigue
and passion. Was this the same world! Could Valeria and Artemisia both
be women! The one--a beauty, whose guilty heart was not ignorant of a
single form of fashionable sin; the other--as it were, a blossom, that
was pure sweetness, in whose opening petals the clear diamond of the
morning dew still remained! Agias did not compare Artemisia with
Cornelia; for Cornelia, in his eyes, was a goddess, and in beauty and
passions was above the hope or regard of mortal men.
But what was one to do in an emergency like the following? Agias had
been singing the "Love Song" from the "Cyclops," and trying to throw
into the lines all the depth of tender affection which voice and look
rendered possible.
"One with eyes the fairest
Cometh from his dwelling,
Some one loves thee, rarest,
Bright beyond my telling.
In thy grace thou shinest
Like some nymph divinest,
In her caverns dewy;--
All delights pursue thee,
Soon pied flowers, sweet-breathing,
Shall thy head be wreathing."[126]
[126] Translated by Shelley.
And at the conclusion of the song Artemisia threw her arms around
Agias's neck and kissed him; and then with astounding impartiality
sprang into Sesostris's lap, and patted the old Ethiop's black cheeks,
and bestowed on him all manner of endearing epithets. What was poor
Agias to do in such a case? He blankly concluded that it had proved
easier to blast the plot of Pratinas and Ahenobarbus, than to win the
love--as he meant "love"--of this provokingly affectionate girl. It
was growing late. Pratinas might at any time return. And Agias
constrained himself to depart.
"By Zeus!" was the exclamation he addressed to himself as he fought
his way through the crowds toward his own quarters; "where will this
all end? How much longer are you going to lie in the toils of that
most innocent of Circes? Will she never open her eyes? If I could only
make her cry, 'I hate you!' there would be some hope; for when one
hates, as I want her to, love is but a step away. Confound that
Sesostris! For me to have to sit there, and see that baboon kissed and
fondled!"
And so reflecting, he reached his rooms. One of the luckless
slave-boys who now addressed him as "Dominus," was waiting to tell him
that a very gaunt, strange-looking man, with an enormous beard, had
called to see him while he was out, and would return--so the visitor
said--in the evening, for his business was important. "Pisander,"
remarked Agias; and he stayed in that evening to meet the philosopher,
although he had arranged to share a dinner with one or two other
freedmen, who were his friends.
The man of learning appeared at a very late hour. In fact, the
water-clock showed that it wanted little of midnight before he came.
His explanation was that Valeria had called him in to read verses to a
company of friends who were supping with her, and he could not get
away sooner. Besides, the dark streets were full of bandits, and he
had therefore taken a circuitous route to avoid attack. Agias had to
let him ramble through all the details, although he knew very well
that Pisander would never have taken so much trouble to come if he had
not had information of the first importance to impart.
"And now, my dear Pisander," ventured the young Greek, at length, "I
will ask Dromo to set something to drink before us; and I hope you
will tell me why you have come."
Pisander glanced timidly over his shoulder, pulled at his beard with
suppressed excitement, then bent down, and in a very low voice burst
out:--
"Pratinas and"--he hesitated--"Valeria!"
"_Ai"_ cried Agias, "I have suspected it for a very long time. You are
sure the fox has snapped up his goose?"
"By Hercules, very sure! They are planning to go to Egypt. Pratinas
has just had a wonderful stroke of luck. He received six hundred
thousand sesterces[127] with which to corrupt a jury for some poor
wretch who expected to enlist Pratinas's cunning to get him out of the
toils of the law. Pratinas calmly put the money in his strong-box, and
let the unhappy wight be cast. He is not at all poor--he has amassed a
large fortune while he has been in Rome. Shade of Plato! how this
knave has prospered! And now he is arranging with Valeria to strip
poor Calatinus of nearly all his valuables, before they fly the
country."
[127] $24,000.
"Ah, luckless Calatinus!" laughed Agias. "That will be the end of his
marrying the handsomest woman in Rome. And so this is what you came
here to tell me? It really was a good secret to keep."
"_St!_" interrupted Pisander, "Pratinas has something else to attend
to. Calatinus will get consolation for losing his dear spouse. I
suppose Pratinas wishes to indemnify him, but he himself will make a
good bit at the same time."
In a twinkling a thought had flashed through Agias's mind, that made a
cold sweat break out all over him, and a hot surge of blood mount to
his head.
"Man, man!" he cried, grasping Pisander's wrists with all his
strength, "speak! Don't look at me this way! Don't say that you mean
Artemisia?"
"_Ai!_ You know the girl, then?" said the other, with the most
excruciating inquisitiveness.
"Know her?" raged Agias, "I love the sunbeam on which her eyes rest.
Speak! Tell me all, everything, all about it I Quick! I must know!"
Pisander drew himself together, and with a deliberation that was
nearly maddening to his auditor, began:--
"Well, you see, I had occasion this morning to be in Calatinus's
library. Yes, I remember, I was just putting the new copy of Theognis
back into the cupboard, when I noticed that the Mimnermus was not
neatly rolled, and so I happened to stay in the room, and--"
"By Zeus, speak faster and to the point!" cried Agias.
"Oh, there wasn't very much to it all! Why, how excited you are!
Pratinas came into the atrium, and Calatinus was already there. I
heard the latter say, 'So I am to give you forty thousand sesterces
for the little girl you had with you at the circus yesterday?' And
Pratinas replied, 'Yes, if she pleases you. I told you her name was
Artemisia, and that I always taught her to believe that she was my
niece.'"
"_Hei! Hei!_" groaned Agias, rushing up and down the room, half
frantic. "Don't tell any more, I've heard enough! Fool, fool I have
been, to sit in the sunshine, and never think of preparing to carry
out my promise to Sesostris. No, you must tell me--you must tell me if
you have learned any more. Did Calatinus fix on any time at which he
was to take possession of the poor girl?"
"No," replied the still amazed Pisander. "I did not hear the whole
conversation. There was something about 'a very few days,' and then
Pratinas began to condole with Calatinus over being beaten for the
tribunate after having spent so much money for the canvass. But why
are you so stirred up? As Plato very admirably observes in his
'Philebus'--"
"The Furies seize upon your 'Philebus'!" thundered Agias. "Keep quiet,
if you've nothing good to tell! Oh, Agias, Agias! where are your wits,
where is your cunning? What in the world can I do?"
And so he poured out his distress and anger. But, after all, there was
nothing to be done that night. Pisander, who at last began to realize
the dilemma of his friend, ventured on a sort of sympathy which was
worse than no sympathy at all, for philosophical platitudes are ever
the worst of consolations. Agias invited the good man to spend the
night with him, and not risk a second time the robbers of the streets.
The young Greek himself finally went to bed, with no definite purpose
in his mind except to rescue Artemisia, at any and every hazard, from
falling into the clutches of Calatinus, who was perhaps the one man in
the world Agias detested the most heartily.
II
Early in the morning Agias was awake. He had slept very little. The
face of Artemisia was ever before him, and he saw it bathed in tears,
and clouded with anguish and terror. But, early as he arose, it was
none too early. Dromo, one of his slaves, came to announce to his
dread lord that an aged Ethiop was waiting to see him, and Agias did
not need to be told that this was Sesostris.
That faithful servant of an unworthy master was indeed in a pitiable
condition. His ordinarily neat and clean dress was crumpled and
disarranged, as though he had not changed it during the night, but had
rather been tossing and wakeful. His eyes were swollen, and tears were
trickling down his cheeks. His voice had sunk to a husky choking, and
when he stood before Agias he was unable to get out a word, but, after
a few vain attempts which ended in prolonged sniffles, thrust into his
young friend's hand a tablet.
It was in Greek, in the childish, awkward hand of Artemisia, and ran
as follows:--
"Artemisia to her dear, dear Agias. I never wrote a letter before, and
you must excuse the blunders in this. I don't know how to begin to
tell you the dreadful thing that may happen to me. I will try and stop
crying, and write it out just as it all happened. The day before
yesterday Pratinas took me to the circus, where I enjoyed the racing
very much. While we were sitting there, a very fine gentleman--at
least he had purple stripes on his tunic and ever so many rings--came
and sat down beside us. Pratinas told me that this gentleman was
Lucius Calatinus, who was a great lord, but a friend of his. I tried
to say something polite to Calatinus, but I didn't like him. He seemed
coarse, and looked as though he might be cruel at times. He talked to
me something the way you have talked--said I was pretty and my voice
sounded very sweet. But I didn't enjoy these things from him, I can
hardly tell why--though I'm delighted to hear you say them. Well,
after quite a while he went away, and I didn't think anything more
about him for a time, and yesterday you know how happy I was when you
visited me. Only a little while after you left, Pratinas came back. I
could see that he had something on his mind, although he said nothing.
He seemed uneasy, and kept casting sidelong glances at me, which made
me feel uncomfortable. I went up to him, and put my arms around his
neck. 'Dear uncle,' I said, 'what is troubling you to-night?'
'Nothing,' he answered, and he half tried to take my arms away. Then
he said, 'I was thinking how soon I was to go back to Alexandria.' 'To
Alexandria!' I cried, and I was just going to clap my hands when I
thought that, although Alexandria was a far nicer place than Rome, you
could not go with us, and so I felt very sorry. Then Pratinas spoke
again in a hard, cold voice he has never used to me before.
'Artemisia, I must tell you now the truth about yourself. I have let
you call me uncle, and have tried to be kind to you. But you cannot
come back to Alexandria with me. The day after to-morrow Calatinus,
the gentleman you met at the circus yesterday, will come and take you
away. He is a very rich man, and if you please him will give you
everything you desire.' I couldn't understand at all what he meant,
and cried out, 'But, uncle, I don't like Calatinus, and you--you don't
really mean to leave me behind?' 'You little donkey,' said Pratinas,
laughing, oh! so heartlessly, 'I'm not your uncle. You've been my
slave, and I've sold you to Calatinus; so don't quarrel with him, but
learn to like him quickly.' I don't remember what he said or I said
next. I was so frightened and grieved that I don't know what I did. I
know Pratinas finally whipped me, something he never did before. I
went to bed feeling so sore, that I could not get really to sleep, but
dreadful visions of Calatinus kept frightening me. I don't know which
grieves me most, to know I am a slave, to know that Pratinas is not my
uncle and does not love me, or to be about to be sold to Calatinus.
Dear Sesostris has done all he can to console me, but that's very
little; and so, very early this morning, I've written to you, Agias,
just as soon as Pratinas left the house, for I am sure that you, who
are so clever and wise, can see some way to get me out of my dreadful
trouble."
It would be hardly necessary to say that, after reading this appeal,
Agias hurried away to do all that lay in his power to console
Artemisia, and deliver her from her danger. When he reached Pratinas's
tenement, Artemisia ran to meet him, and kissed him again and again,
and cuddled down in his strong, young arms, quite content to believe
that she had found a protector on whom she could cast all her burdens.
And Agias? He laughed and bade her wipe away her tears, and swore a
great oath that, so long as he breathed, Calatinus should not lay a
finger upon her.
Artemisia had practically told all her story in her letter. It was
clear that Calatinus had caught sight of her several times,--though
she had remained in blissful ignorance,--and Pratinas had deliberately
planned to waylay him as a customer who would pay a good price for the
girl, whom it would be manifestly inconvenient for him to take with
Valeria on his premeditated flight to Egypt. But this enlightenment
did not make Agias's task any the easier. He knew perfectly well that
he could never raise a tithe of the forty thousand sesterces that
Pratinas was to receive from Calatinus, and so redeem Artemisia. He
had no right to expect the gift of such a sum from Drusus. If Pratinas
really owned the poor girl as a slave, he could do anything he listed
with her, and no law could be invoked to say him nay. There was only
one recourse left to Agias, and that was fairly desperate--to carry
off Artemisia and keep her in hiding until Pratinas should give up the
quest and depart for Egypt. That there was peril in such a step he was
well aware. Not merely could Artemisia, if recaptured, receive any
form whatsoever of brutal punishment, but he, as the abettor of her
flight, would be liable to a heavy penalty. Slave property was
necessarily very precarious property, and to aid a slave to escape was
an extremely heinous crime. "So many slaves, so many enemies," ran the
harsh maxim; and it was almost treason to society for a freedman to
aid a servant to run away.
But Agias had no time to count the cost, no time to evolve a plan of
escape that admitted no form of disaster. Artemisia besought him not
to leave her for a moment, and accordingly he remained by her,
laughing, poking fun, and making reckless gibes at her fears.
Sesostris went about his simple household duties with a long face, and
now and then a tear trickled down his cheek. Whatever came of the
matter, Artemisia would have to be separated from him. He might never
see her again, and the old Ethiopian loved her more than he did life
itself.
"You will not wrong the girl when she is with you?" he whispered
dolefully to Agias.
"I swear by Zeus she shall be treated as if she were my own dear
sister," was his reply.
"It is well. I can trust you; but _mu! mu!_ it is hard, it is hard! I
love her like my own eyes! Isis preserve her dear life!"
And so at last Artemisia, having cried out all her first burst of
grief, was beginning to smile once more.
"And now, oh! makaira,"[128] said Agias, "I must go away for just a
little while. I have ever so many things to attend to; and you must be
a good, brave girl, and wait until I come back."
[128] Blessed dear.
"_St!"_ broke in Sesostris, "there's a step on the stairs. Pratinas is
coming!"
"Hide me!" cried Agias, as the approaching feet grew nearer. There was
no time to take refuge in one of the farther rooms.
"Here;" and Sesostris threw open the same iron clamped chest in which
some time ago we saw Pratinas inspecting his treasure. "The money was
taken out yesterday."
Agias bounded into the box, and Sesostris pushed down the cover. The
luckless occupant had only a chance to push out a corner of his tunic
through the slit to admit a little air, when Pratinas entered the
room. Agias longed to spring forth and throttle him, but such an act
would have been folly.
The young Greek's prison was sufficiently cramped and stuffy; but for
a moment Agias tried to persuade himself that he had only to wait with
patience until Pratinas should be gone, and no one would be the worse.
An exclamation from the room without dispelled this comforting
illusion.
"By Zeus!" cried Pratinas, "what is this? Whence came this new toga?"
Agias writhed in his confinement. In the plentitude of the glory of
his newly acquired freedom, he had come abroad in an elegant new toga;
but he had laid it on a chair when he entered the room.
There was an awkward pause outside; then Pratinas burst out, "You
worthless Ethiopian, you, where did this toga come from? It hasn't
wings or feet! How came it here? Who's been here? Speak, speak, you
fool, or I will teach you a lesson!"
Agias gathered himself for a spring; for he expected to hear Sesostris
whimper out a confession, and see Pratinas's wickedly handsome face
peering into the chest. "He shan't cut my throat without a struggle!"
was his vow.
But, to his surprise, Sesostris answered with a tone of unlooked-for
firmness, "Master, I cannot tell you where the toga came from."
The tone of Pratinas, in reply, indicated his passion. "Sheep! Dog!
Have I had you all these years that you should need a thrashing for
impertinence! What rascal has been here to ogle at this wretched
girl?" He might have thundered his commands to Artemisia, who was
sobbing in evident distress; but his anger was concentrated on
Sesostris. "Will you not speak?"
"Master," came the same firm reply, "I will not tell you, though you
take my life for refusing."
What followed was, as Agias heard it, a volley of curses, blows,
groans, and scuffling; then a heavy fall; an extremely fierce
execration from Pratinas, and a loud shrill scream from Artemisia, "O
Sesostris; dear Sesostris! He doesn't speak! He doesn't move! You've
killed him!"
"And I will kill you too if you won't tell the truth!" thundered
Pratinas, in an ungovernable passion. Agias heard a blow as of a
clinched fist, and a low moan. It was enough. One spring, and the
ponderous cover flew back. The toga, the innocent cause of the
catastrophe, lay on the chair close at hand. Agias grasped the whole
picture in a twinkling: Sesostris lying beside a heavy wooden bench,
with blood flowing from a great wound in his head which had struck in
falling on a sharp corner; Artemisia crying in unspeakable dread on a
divan; Pratinas, his face black as night, with uplifted hand prepared
to strike a second time. Agias saw; and while he saw acted. Down over
Pratinas's head dashed the broad linen folds of the toga, and two
muscular arms drew it tight around the neck. Then began the struggle.
Pratinas was of powerful physique, and resisted like a madman. The
carpet was torn to shreds, the chairs shivered. But Agias, too,
battled for grim life. He kept the hood over his opponent's eyes and
never gave Pratinas a glimpse of the identity of his assailant. And at
last a life of debauches and late dinners and unhealthy excitement
began to tell against even so powerful a constitution as that of
Pratinas. Tighter and tighter grew the pressure around his neck. And
now Artemisia sprang up, and flew like a tiny tigress to her lover's
assistance, and caught at her tormentor's hands, tearing them with her
white little teeth, and pulling the enveloping mantle closer and
closer. The contest could only have one end. Ere long, Pratinas was
lying on the floor, bound hand and foot with strings of torn clothing,
and his head still muffled in the toga. Agias, victorious, but with
not a whole rag on his back, rose from his contest.
"Sesostris! help him!" cried Artemisia, trying in vain to get some
response from the motionless form by the bench. Agias looked at the
Ethiop. The hard wood had struck the top of his skull, and death must
have been instantaneous.
"He does not feel any pain," explained the young Greek, who realized
that this was no moment to indulge in emotions of any sort. "Now,
Artemisia, you must hurry and put on a clean dress yourself; and give
me at least a new tunic, for I cannot show this on the streets. Put
into a basket all the bread you have, and some oil, and some olives,
and some slices of salt fish."
Artemisia disappeared in the next room. Agias returned to his
prisoner. Pratinas was coughing and twisting, and trying to ejaculate
oaths.
"My good sir," said Agias, "I am not a bloodthirsty man, otherwise I
would cut your throat, and so let you forget a predicament which
doubtless embarrasses you not a little. But, since that is not to be,
do not blame me if I arrange so that it will be unlikely that two such
cold friends as you and myself will ever meet again. First of all,
that purse which is at your side, and which, by its weight, shows that
it contains a fair night's winnings, must go with me to speed me on my
way. I have never stolen very much before. But I believe you, sir, are
an Epicurean, who teach that pleasure is the highest good, and that
all things are the result of chance. Now," and here he detached the
purse, and counted over a very considerable sum, "you will observe
that Fortune has thrown this money in my way, and it is my pleasure to
take it. Therefore I am fulfilling the highest good. And you, as a
philosopher, should be quite reconciled."
Artemisia came back into the room, having completed the few simple
preparations.
"Now, my excellent sir," continued Agias, suiting his actions to his
words, "I will stand you on your feet--so. I will push you, still
bound, into this closet--so. I will pile furniture against the door,
so that, when you have worked clear of your bonds, as I imagine you
will in a few hours, even then you will not get out too quickly. And
now, as your dear Roman friends say, _Vale!_ We are off!"
Artemisia flung herself on the form of Sesostris, and covered the
black, ugly face with kisses.
"He's growing cold," she lamented. "What is the matter? I can't leave
him this way!"
But Agias did not dare to admit the least delaying.
"Dear Artemisia," he said, "we can't do anything for Sesostris. I will
explain to you by and by about him. He is not feeling cold now at all.
You must come at once with me. I will take you where Pratinas will
never touch you."
III
If Agias had been a trifle more reckless he would have cut short
Pratinas's thread of life then and there, and greatly diminished the
chance of unpleasant consequences. But he had not sunk so low as that.
Besides, he had already worked out in his versatile head a plan that
seemed practicable, albeit utterly audacious. Cornelia was at Baiae.
Cornelia owed him a great debt of gratitude for saving Drusus.
Cornelia might harbour Artemisia as a new maid, if he could contrive
to get his charge over the hundred long miles that lay between Rome
and Baiae.
In the street he made Artemisia draw her mantle over her pretty face,
and pressed through the crowds as fast as he could drag her onward.
Quickly as he might he left the noisy Subura behind, and led on toward
the Palatine. At length he turned in toward a large house, and by a
narrow alley reached a garden gate, and gained admission to the rear.
By his confident movements he showed himself familiar with the spot.
The dwelling, as a matter of fact, was that of Calatinus.
As Agias pushed open the gate, and led Artemisia into a little garden
enclosed with a high stone wall, he surprised a dapper-appearing young
slave-lad of about his age, who was lying idly on the tiny grass plot,
and indulging in a solitary game of backgammon.[129]
[129] _Duodecim scripta_.
"_Hem!_ Iasus," was Agias's salutation, "can you do an old friend a
favour?"
Iasus sprang to his feet, with eyes, nose, and mouth wide open. He
turned red, turned white, turned red once more.
"_Phy!_" cried the other; "you aren't so silly as to take me for a
shade from Hades? I've as much strength and muscle as you."
"Agias!" blurted out Iasus, "are you alive? Really alive? They didn't
beat you to death! I am so glad! You know--"
"_St!_" interrupted Agias. "You did, indeed, serve me an awkward trick
some time since; but who can blame you for wanting to save your own
skin. Pisander and Arsinoe and Semiramis have kept the secret that I'm
alive very well, for in some ways it shouldn't come to Valeria's ears.
My story later. Where's her most noble ladyship?"
"The domina," replied Iasus, with a sniff, "has just gone out on a
visit to a friend who has a country-house near Fidenae, up the Tiber."
"Praise the gods! Far enough to be abroad for the day, and perhaps
over night! This suits my purpose wonderfully. Is Pisander at home,
and Arsinoe?"
"I will fetch them," replied Iasus; and in a minute the philosopher
and the waiting-maid were in the garden.
A very few words explained to these two sympathetic souls the whole
situation.
Artemisia shrank back at sight of Pisander.
"I am afraid of that man. He wears a great beard like Pratinas, and I
don't love Pratinas any longer."
"Oh, don't say that, my little swallow," said the worthy man of books,
looking very sheepish. "I should be sorry to think that your bright
eyes were vexed to see me."
"_Phui!_ Pisander," laughed Arsinoe, "what have Zeno and Diogenes to
do with 'bright eyes'?"
But for once Pisander's heart was wiser than his head, and he only
tossed Artemisia an enormous Persian peach, at which, when she sampled
the gift, she made peace at once, and forever after held Pisander in
her toils as a devoted servant.
But Agias was soon gone; and Artemisia spent the rest of the morning
and the whole of the afternoon in that very satisfactory Elysium of
Syrian pears and honey-apples which Semiramis and Arsinoe supplied in
full measure, with Pisander to sit by, and stare, boylike, at her
clear, fair profile, and cast jealous glances at Iasus when that young
man ventured to utilize his opportunity for a like advantage. Many of
the servants had gone with Valeria, and the others readily agreed to
preserve secrecy in a matter in which their former fellow-slave and
favourite had so much at stake. So the day passed, and no one came to
disturb her; and just as the shadows were falling Agias knocked at the
garden gate.
"_St!_" were his words, "I have hired a gig which will carry us both.
Pratinas is loose and has been raising heaven and earth to get at us.
There is a crier going the rounds of the Forum offering a thousand
sesterces for the return of Artemisia. Pratinas has gone before the
_triumviri capitales_[130] and obtained from them an order on the
_apparitores_[131] to track down the runaway and her abettor."
[130] One of their functions made these officers practically chiefs
of police.
[131] A part of these public officers performed police duty.
"_Eho!_" cried Pisander, "then you'd better leave your treasure here
awhile, for us to take care of."
"Not at all," replied Agias; "I could have taken her out of the city
at once, but in the daytime we should have been certainly noticed and
subsequently tracked. No one will imagine Artemisia is here--at least
for a while. But this is a large familia; all may be my friends, but
all may not have prudent tongues in their heads. The reward is large,
and perhaps some will be tempted;" he glanced at Iasus, who, to do him
justice, had never thought of a second deed of baseness. "I cannot
risk that. No, Artemisia goes out of the city to-night, and she must
get ready without the least delay."
Artemisia, who was charmed with her present surroundings and
adulation, demurred at leaving her entertainers; but Agias was
imperative, and the others realized well enough that there was not
much time to be lost. Agias, however, waited until it had become
tolerably dark before starting. Meantime, he proceeded to make certain
changes of his own and Artemisia's costume that indicated the rather
serious character of the risk he was preparing to run. For himself he
put on a very full and flowing crimson evening dress, as if he were
proceeding to a dinner-party; he piled a dozen odd rings upon his
fingers, and laughingly asked Semiramis to arrange his hair for him in
the most fashionable style, and anoint it heavily with Valeria's most
pungent perfumes. At the same time, Arsinoe was quite transforming
Artemisia. Valeria's cosmetic vials were for once put into play for a
purpose, and when Artemisia reappeared from the dressing-room after
her treatment, Agias saw before him no longer a fair-skinned little
Greek, but a small, slender, but certainly very handsome Egyptian
serving-lad, with bronzed skin, conspicuous carmine lips, and features
that Arsinoe's paint and pencils had coarsened and exaggerated.
Fortunately, the classic costume both for men and women was so
essentially alike, that Artemisia did not have to undergo that
mortification from a change of clothes which might have befallen one
at the present day in a like predicament. Her not very long black hair
was loose, and shaken over her shoulders. Agias had brought for her a
short, variegated _lacerna_[132] which answered well enough as the
habit of a boy-valet who was on good terms with his master.
[132] A sort of mantle held on the shoulders by a clasp.
"_Eho!_" cried Agias, when he had witnessed the transformation, "we
must hasten or Valeria will be anxious to keep you as her serving-boy!
Ah, I forgot she is going with her dear Pratinas to Egypt. Now,
Arsinoe, and you, Semiramis, I shall not forget the good turn you have
done me; don't let Valeria miss her unguents and ask questions that
might prove disagreeable. Farewell, Iasus and Pisander; we shall soon
meet again, the gods willing."
The friends took leave of Artemisia; the slave-women kissed her;
Pisander, presuming on his age, kissed her, albeit very sheepishly, as
though he feared the ghosts of all the Stoics would see him. Iasus
cast an angry jealous glance at the philosopher; he contented himself
with a mere shake of the hand.
Agias swung Artemisia into the gig and touched the lash to the swift
mules.
"Good-by, dear friends!" she cried, her merry Greek smile shining out
through her bronze disguise.
The gig rolled down the street, Agias glancing to right and left to
see that no inquisitive eye followed them.
"Oh! Agias," cried the girl, "am I at last going away with you? Going
away all alone, with only you to take care of me? I feel--I feel
queerly!"
Agias only touched the mules again, and laughed and squeezed
Artemisia's hand, then more gravely said:--
"Now, makaira, you must do everything as I say, or we shall never get
away from Pratinas. Remember, if I tell you to do anything you must do
it instantly; and, above everything else, no matter what happens,
speak not a word; don't scream or cry or utter a sound. If anybody
questions us I shall say that I am a gentleman driving out to the
suburbs to enjoy a late party at a friend's villa, and you are my
valet, who is a mute, whom it is useless to question because he cannot
answer. Do you understand?"
Artemisia nodded her little head, and bit her pretty lips very hard to
keep from speaking. The fear of Pratinas made her all obedience.
It was after sundown, and driving was permitted in the city, though
nearly all the teams that blocked Agias's way, as he drove down the
crowded streets to turn on to the Via Appia, were heavy wagons loaded
with timber and builders' stone.
So far, all was safe enough; but Agias knew perfectly well that
Pratinas was an awkward man to have for an enemy. The critical moment,
however, was close at hand, and Agias called up all his wits to meet
it. Under the damp arch of the ancient Porta Capena were pacing
several men, whose lanterns and clinking sword-scabbards proclaimed
them to be members of the city constabulary. There was no possibility
of evading their scrutiny. No doubt any other gate was equally well
watched. Agias drove straight ahead, as though he had seen nothing.
"Hold!" and one of the constables was at the heads of the mules, and
another was waving a lantern up into the face of the occupants of the
gig.
"Rascals," roared Agias, menacing with his whip, "are you highwaymen
grown so impudent!"
"We have an order from the triumviri," began one officer.
"_Eho!_" replied Agias, settling back, as though relieved not to have
to fight for his purse, "I can't see what for; I owe nothing. I have
no suit pending."
"We are to search all carriages and pedestrians," recommenced the
constable, "to find if we may a certain Artemisia, a runaway
slave-girl of the most noble Greek gentleman, Pratinas."
"My good sirs," interrupted Agias, "I am already like to be very late
at my dear friend Cimber's dinner party"--he mentioned the name of
the owner of a very large villa not far down the road; "I have with me
only Midas, my mute valet. If you detain me any longer I shall
complain--"
And here a denarius slipped into the hands of the officer with the
lantern.
"I think it's all right, Macer," was his report to his comrade. The
latter left the heads of the mules.
"_Mehercle!_ how handsome some of those Egyptians grow!" commented the
first constable.
But the rest of his remarks were lost on Agias. He was whizzing down
the "Queen of Roads," with a good team before him, Artemisia at his
side, and a happy consciousness that two excellent officials had
missed a chance to earn one thousand sesterces.
Hardly were they beyond earshot, when Artemisia burst out into an
uncontrollable fit of giggling, which lasted a long time, only to be
renewed and renewed, as often as a desperate effort seemed to have
suppressed it. Then she drew the robes of the carriage round her, laid
her head on Agias's shoulder, and with a confidence in her protector
that would have inspired him to go through fire and water for her
sake, shook out her dark locks and fell fast asleep, despite the fact
that the mules were running their fastest. Agias grasped the reins
with one hand, and with the other pressed tight the sleeping girl. He
would not have exchanged his present position for all the wealth of
Sardanapalus.
* * * * *
Five days later Agias was back in Rome. He had succeeded in reaching
Baiae, and introducing Artemisia into the familia of the villa of the
Lentuli, as a new waiting-maid from Rome sent by Claudia to her
daughter. For the present at least there was practically no chance of
Pratinas recovering his lost property. And indeed, when Agias reached
Rome once more, all fears in that direction were completely set at
rest. The fashionable circle in which Claudia and Herennia were
enmeshed was in a flutter and a chatter over no ordinary scandal.
Valeria, wife of Calatinus, and Pratinas, the "charming" Epicurean
philosopher, had both fled Rome two days before, and rumour had it
that they had embarked together at Ostia on a ship leaving direct for
Egypt. Of course Calatinus was receiving all the sympathy, and was a
much abused man; and so the tongues ran on.
To Agias this great event brought a considerable gain in peace of
mind, and some little loss. Valeria had taken with her her two maids,
Agias's good friends, and also Iasus. Pisander ignominiously had been
left behind. Calatinus had no use for the man of learning, and Agias
was fain to take him before Drusus, who had returned from Ravenna, and
induce his patron to give Pisander sufficient capital to start afresh
a public school of philosophy, although the chances of acquiring
opulence in that profession were sufficiently meagre.