"Three times dead, Caius," he said, "and still alive and fit. Dying seems

to agree with you, whether it is military execution, rural assassination,

or drowning at sea. I am still incredulous that you are really alive; we

had the most circumstantial accounts of the loss of poor Libo's yacht with

all on board."

"That is odd," I said, "Rufius Libo survived and succeeded to his uncle's

property."

"I knew he inherited all Nonius left," Tanno stated, "but I had no idea

that Nonius had Rufius with him here in Rome and that he was on the yacht;

I thought he was in Carthage all the while. Certainly every account we had

specified that no one was rescued from that yacht."

I told him that Rufius had promised me to write him of my survival and

that I had despatched at least a score of letters to him and as many to

Vedia. He was as puzzled as I that not one had reached either of them.

I gave him an account of my life since he had seen me and he approved of

my disguise as much as had Agathemer and laughed at it even more heartily.

He said:

"Poor Flavius Clemens is in a daze. He cannot conjecture what has gone

wrong with his wooing again a second time. He behaved very tactfully after

his first rebuff ensuing on Galen's tip to me and mine to Vedia. He was so

cautious about not thrusting himself on Vedia that their acquaintance,

quite naturally, warmed again gradually into mutual interest and romantic

affection and was ripening into love when the sight of you yesterday

annihilated his excellent chances of marrying her. He was just about to

buy for her a two-million-sesterce pearl necklace. If she had accepted the

gift it would have been tantamount to a public pledge to marry him. Poor

fellow!"

When he left he gave me a letter from Vedia, a letter as loving as a lover

could wish for. She declared that she would not marry Flavius Clemens nor

anybody except me and would wait for me as long as might be necessary or

stay unmarried until the end of her days, if, by any misfortune, the end

came to her before she and I were free to marry.

She said that we must avoid each other as much as possible and that I must

not spoil my chances of safety either by relying too recklessly on my

disguise or through risking arousing suspicion in Falco by any attempt at

confining myself to my apartment, which would have been altogether

incongruous with the character I had assumed.

The rest of that year and all the winter I passed living the normal life

of an indulged and pampered favorite of an opulent bachelor dilettante

noble. It was a life almost as enjoyable as the life of a wealthy nobleman

to which I had been born and brought up.

I had but one anxiety and that was not small and it steadily increased. It

was caused by a progressive alteration and deterioration in the character

of my master. In all other respects he remained the man he had been when

he first bought me, but as a gem-fancier his hobby became a passion which

deepened into a mania and colored, or discolored, all he did. He had, as

he always had had, a very large surplus of income over and above what was

needful to maintain his huge estates in Africa, his many luxurious villas

and town-palaces there, his yacht and his palaces in Italy at Baiae and at

Rome. The normal accumulation of this surplus had taxed his sagacity as an

investor, for it was always harder for him to find advantageous

investments for his redundant cash than to find cash for tempting

investments. Certainly his excess income more than sufficed for any

reasonable indulgence in gem-collecting.

Yet his outlay for rare gems ran up to and outran and far outran his

resources. The strange result was that he, who had huge revenues from

estates and safe investments, desired a still greater income. He began to

embark in risky ventures which promised large and quick returns. He went

into partnership with two different nobles, who made a practice of bidding

on the taxes of frontier provinces exposed to enemy raids. Bidders were

shy of investing their cash in the problematical returns of such regions

and those who had the hardihood to enter into contracts with the

government made huge profits if lucky. Falco was lucky each time. He

plunged again and again.

He also embarked similarly in bidding for unpromising contracts and in

buying up estates thrown unexpectedly on the market. All his ventures

turned out successfully, he gained great resources for indulging his fad

for gems and rare curios, his collection grew and became one of the most

famous private collections in Rome.

Also his mania for speculation grew as fast as his mania for collecting

gems.

This led to my exposure to the oddest and most alarming peril which I had

run since Agathemer and I crawled through the drain-pipe at Villa Andivia;

greater I think, than the risk I ran when I nearly encountered Gratillus

at Placentia. This happened about eleven months after I came to Rome with

Falco, in the spring of the year when Pedo Apronianus and Valerius Bradua

were consuls.

This occurrence and the circumstances which led up to it I cannot forbear

narrating, but I shall not go into details, for it involves at least

allusion to behavior not at all creditable to my owner and I am unwilling

to disparage or seem to disparage one who was to me a dear friend and a

generous benefactor. The truth is that his passion for gem-collecting had

not only undermined his character but had, in a way, sapped the

foundations of his native uprightness. If he had remained the man he was

when he bought me he would not have been capable of entertaining, let

alone of acting on, the considerations which actuated him.

He thought he saw a chance to make vast profits quickly with no risks. But

to achieve this he needed the presence and the countenance of another

wealthy nobleman of the African province, who, like him when he purchased

me, had never been in Rome or, indeed, out of the colony. The name of this

man, whom I had met while in Thysdrus, was Salsonius Salinator. His

wealth, inherited by his father and grandfather from a long line of

wealthy ancestors, came from many vast salt works along the coast, which,

by the custom of the province, remained private property and merely paid

the government a lease-tax or rent. The family had been, many generations

before, named from these works and was very proud of its names.

Now Falco had so far progressed with his negotiations that the other

parties to the proposed bargain were unwilling to close the deal and sign

a contract with Falco and his associates unless Salsonius Salinator, in

person, appeared to make some necessary statements, and were willing and

eager to sign and seal, the projected agreement if he did appear in person

and did make those required statements. I am averse to smirching Falco's

memory by going more minutely into detail.

Now Salinator had written Falco that he was coming to Rome and later, when

he received a letter from Falco outlining the pending negotiations and

their object, he had written promising to be in Rome by a specified date.

He was most enthusiastic as to Falco's project and thought as well of it

as did Falco. Falco told his associates of Salinator's letter and promise

and they adjusted their outstanding investments so as to be able to close

the contract as soon as Salinator appeared.

He did not appear on the date specified. Naturally Falco was perturbed,

his associates vexed and the men with whom they were dealing increasingly

restive. They threatened to break off the negotiations and close a

contract with other bidders. Falco begged for an extension of the time and

they grudgingly granted it. Still no signs of or word from Salinator. The

negotiations appeared likely to fall through.

In his distress Falco conceived and set about putting into practice a

scheme such as he would never have thought of or entertained if he had

been the man he was when he bought me. When he was himself he had been the

reverse of dishonorable. He came to me and said:

"We are at the end of our tether, Pullanius and his gang will break off

negotiations tomorrow if I can't get hold of Salinator. I have no hope of

his arrival, he may have not yet sailed from Carthage; he may have changed

his mind about coming at all. I am not willing to lose so brilliant a

chance. I have thought of just what to do.

"You would look like a Roman if you had your beard trimmed and your hair

cut and all that powder and paint and rouge washed off your face: I took

you for a full-blooded Roman when I first set eyes on you. What is more

you would look so utterly unlike what you look like in your fantastic

fripperies that no one would even suspect you of being the same man.

Anyhow, Pullanius and his crowd have never set eyes on you, not one of

them.

"All you have to do is to have your beard cut to about the fashionable

length and your hair trimmed to conform similarly with current fashions

for Roman noblemen and get into full-dress shoes, a nobleman's tunic and

toga, and you'll pass anywhere for a genuine, free-born, full-blooded

Roman.

"I'll take you to Pullanius tomorrow and introduce you as Salsonius

Salinator. I'll coach you carefully as to how to behave and what to say.

You are clever enough to assume the natural Roman demeanor to a nicety:

also to rise to any unexpected situations and act and talk precisely as

would Salinator himself.

"It will be sharp practice, in a sense. But I know Salinator would say all

I want him to say, all Pullanius requires him to say, and more, if he were

actually here. He is as keen on closing this contract as I am. So I am not

asking you to be a party to an actual fraud. You will only be bringing

about what would come about without you if something unforeseen had not

prevented Salinator from getting here in time."

Now I had often differed with Falco, argued with him, opposed him, refused

requests of his, and he had acquiesced and had acted as if I were not his

property, but a free man and his complete social equal. But this was a

situation wholly different from any I had encountered before. When it came

to gem-collecting or to anything which gave him or would give him or was

expected to yield him surplus cash for buying more gems for his

collection, Falco was a monomaniac. I dared not refuse, or oppose him or

argue or show any hesitation. A master can change in a twinkling from an

indulgent friend to an infuriated despot. In spite of the laws passed by

Hadrian and his successors limiting the authority of masters over their

slaves and giving slaves certain rights before magistrates, in practice an

angry master can go to any length to coerce a recalcitrant slave. I saw

not only privations, discomforts, hunger, confinement and chains

threatening me, but scourging and torture.

I acquiesced.

Now I am not going into any details as to what I did and said to induce

Pullanius and his associates to execute the desired contract. I acted the

part of Salinator to perfection and my imposture succeeded completely.

But the negotiations dragged, for all that, and I had to impersonate

Salsonius Salinator not only before Pullanius and his partners but

generally all over Rome: had to submit to being shown the sights in my

character of a provincial magnate in Rome for the first time; had to allow

myself to be dragged to morning receptions of senators and wealthy

noblemen and introduced to them; had to accept invitations to dinners

given by noblemen and senators; even had to attend a public morning

reception in the Audience Hall of the Palace. That I escaped undetected

was more than miraculous; I could not believe it myself. But I did escape.

I escaped unsuspected the ordeal of being haled to a morning reception of

Vedius Vedianus and presented to him as Salsonius Salinator of Carthage,

Nepte and Putea. I should have been lost had he had at his elbow to jog

his memory if he forgot a visitor's name the slave he had had in that

capacity seven years before, since that alert _nomenclator_ would have

recognized me at once. But he had died of the plague and his successor had

never set eyes on me. Vedius himself would certainly have known me for my

true self but for his inveterate selfishness, and self-absorption and his

incapacity for being diverted from whatever thought or idea happened to be

uppermost in his narrow mind. He was, for some reason, eager to be done

with his reception and had no eyes for any visitors except those from whom

he expected immediate and positive advantage to himself. I escaped, but I

went out sweating and limp with excitement.

I was even more faint and weak after having to attend a Palace levee.

Fortunately Commodus had wearied of his father's methods of holding

receptions and had reverted to the regulations in vogue under Trajan and

Hadrian, according to which only such senators as were summoned approached

the throne and were personally greeted by the Prince; the rest of the

senators and all the lesser noblemen merely passed before the Emperor as

he stood in front of the throne, passing four abreast along the main

pavement at the foot of the steps of the dais and saluting him as they

passed. Amid this crush of mediocrities I passed unnoticed, unremarked,

unscathed.

But I marvelled at my luck, for I knew many eyes of secret-service experts

scanned that slow-moving column of togaed noblemen and such adepts have a

marvellous memory for the shape of an ear, a nose, a chin, or any such

feature. After my hair and beard had been trimmed to suit Falco's notions

and my face was innocent of powder, rouge and paint and I was habited in a

tunic and toga with stripes of the width belonging to Salinator's rank and

dress-boots of the cut and color proper for him I conned my reflection in

the mirror in my dressing-room and was certain that anyone who had known

me as myself must recognize me at first glance.

My two worst ordeals came when I went out with Falco to my second and

fourth formal dinner in Rome in my character of provincial magnate. I went

with him, altogether, to eight different dinners at the houses of

capitalists associated with or supposed to have influence with Pullanius.

Not once, in any of these eight perilous expeditions, did it occur to

Falco to inform me beforehand where I was to dine. And I thought it best

not to ask him, since I reflected that his complete ignorance of my past

was an important factor in my chances of continued concealment and safety;

and since I felt that some word, tone or look of mine might put him on the

road to suspecting the truth about me. Therefore I set out to each of

these eight dinners totally ignorant of our destination.

The first time I knew I was to dine with Appellasius Clavviger, a Syrian

capitalist who had been in Rome not much longer than Falco himself. Judge

of my feelings when, in the mellow light which bathes Rome just after the

sun has set from a clear sky and before day has begun to fade, I perceived

that my litter-bearers, following Falco's, were turning into the street

where I had lived before my ruin! Imagine my sensations when we halted

before the palatial dwelling which had been my uncle's abode and mine! I

was even more perturbed and overwhelmed by my emotions when on entering

behind Falco I found nothing changed, scarcely anything altered from what

had been there on the fatal morning on which, without any premonition of

disaster, I had set off to the Palace levee and had, on my way, been saved

by Vedia's intervention and letter. The appointments of the vestibule, of

the porter's lodge, were as I had known them in my uncle's lifetime. So

were the furnishings of the atrium and _tablinum_. Scarcely a statue had

been added or so much as moved, most of the pictures being where my uncle

had had them hung. Appellasius, a fat, jovial, jolly man, did not see my

confusion. We were the last guests to arrive and he was hungry. We passed

at once into the _triclinium_. There also the wall-decorations were

precisely as I had last seen them; but the square table and three square

sofas had vanished and, in their place, was a new C-shaped sofa and a

circular table covered with a magnificent embroidered cloth. In the

course of the dinner, the company, as was natural with vulgarians newly

enriched, fell to talking of their residences, of their size, convenience,

and cost. I took the opportunity to compliment Appellasius on his abode

and, as he warmed to the subject, I inquired whether he had inherited it

or bought it.

"Neither," said he. "I have merely leased it, and leased it furnished. It

belongs to the _fiscus_; it was confiscated some years ago when its owner

was proscribed for joining in one of the conspiracies against, the

Emperor. It is a pearl. I am told that the father of its last owner was an

art connoisseur. Anyhow I could not improve on its decorations or

furnishings. I have made few changes, chiefly installing this up-to-date

dining-outfit. The fittings of this room were all of one hundred years

old, very fine in material and ornamentation, but unbearably

inconvenient."

I had learned all I hoped for or dared attempt, and for the rest of the

entertainment I kept to subjects as far as possible from anything likely

to compromise me.

My second and far my severest ordeal was when a few evenings later I was

dazed to realize that my litter, behind Falco's, was halting before the

well-known residence of that booby, Faltonius Bambilio. But I was not

afraid of him. I rated him such a dolt, such an ass, that even if he

exclaimed that I was the image of Andivius Hedulio I had no doubt I could

convince him that I was what I pretended to be and could even expunge from

his mind any recollections of his having noticed such a striking

resemblance. In fact he did not make any remark on my appearance or seem

to have any inkling that he had ever seen me before, but accepted me as an

interesting stranger.

I dreaded what guests he might have and the actuality surpassed my

capacities to forecast possibilities.

I found the middle sofa at his table, for he adhered to the old-fashioned

furnishings for a _triclinium_, occupied by his wife, Nemestronia and

Vedia! Vedia, after one tense moment of incredulous numb staring,

regained her composure.

Evidently she had not confided in anyone the fact of my survival and

existence. For, if she had, she would have taken dear old Nemestronia into

her confidence, since she was as able to keep a secret as any woman who

ever lived and had loved me as if I had been her own and only grandson.

For Nemestronia manifestly had believed me dead. At sight of me she was as

thunderstruck as if she had seen an indubitable specter. She was smitten

dumb and rigid and her discomposure was remarked by all present. But she

recovered herself in time, passed off her agitation as having been due to

one of her sudden attacks of pain in the chest. After that she did as much

as Vedia to dispel any tendency to suspicions which she might have

aroused. She was plainly, to my eyes, overjoyed at the sight of me in the

flesh.

I have branded on my memory for life the picture I saw as I entered the

_triclinium_. Its wall decorations expressed old Bambilio's enthusiasm for

Alexandrian art and literature. The ceiling was adorned with a copy of

Apellides' Dance of the Loves; and the walls were decorated with copies of

equally celebrated paintings by masters of similar fame. The wall niches

were filled with statues of the Alexandrian poets, the two opposite the

entrance door with those of Euphorion and Philetas, the brilliant hues of

the paint on them depicting garments as gaudy as I myself had been wearing

a few days before. From the pink faces of the bedizened poets their

jeweled eyes sparkled as if they were chuckling at the situation. Under

the mellow light shed by the numerous hanging lamps, against the intricate

particolored patterns of the wall between the statue-niches, I saw the

vacuous baby face of Asellia, Bambilio's pretty doll of a wife, between

Vedia's countenance cleverly assuming a normal social expression after her

brief glare at me, and Nemestronia's mask of horror, accentuated by the

agony of the gripping spasm which throttled her, for the pain in her chest

was induced by anything which startled her, and was not assumed.

Once we were composed on the sofas the dinner passed off almost

comfortably. For Nemestronia played her part in my behalf fully as well as

did Vedia, who conversed with me easily, her demeanor precisely as if I

had been Salsonius Salinator, a stranger whom she had just met, our talk

mostly about Carthage, salt-works, the lagoons of the edge of the desert,

date palms, local fruits, gazelles and such like topics, Nemestronia

seconding her with questions about temple libraries, the cult of Isis in

Hippo, and such matters. I became almost gay, I was enjoying myself.

The enjoyment, toward the close of the banquet, was marred by Bambilio,

who, inevitably, had told Falco of his capture by brigands on the

Flaminian Highway and, after his tale was told at great length, insisted

on Vedia telling hers.

Worst of all, when she came to her night in her travelling carriage, alone

(as of course all supposed) and surrounded by escaped beasts, hyenas,

leopards, panthers, tigers and lions, Bambilio must needs remark:

"I'll wager you wished that the ghost of your old lover, Hedulio, had come

to your assistance. He could wrestle with leopards; perhaps even his ghost

might be able to control wild beasts."

"Perhaps," Vedia rejoined, unruffled, "maybe he was there to help me and

maybe that was why I never felt really afraid that any beast would burst

into my coach and seize me, though several snuffed at its panels and I

could see them plain in the clear moonlight. Perhaps, in spirit, he was

close to me to keep off the ravenous beasts and to strengthen my heart."

After she also had ended her story Bambilio eyed me:

"Did you ever hear a story excel hers and mine, Salsonius?" he queried.

"Never," I admitted, my gaze full on his.

The booby showed not a gleam of suspicion!

Inwardly I could not but remark that whereas I despised and loathed

Bambilio for his pomposity and self-esteem, he made and kept friends.

Plainly both Nemestronia and Vedia liked him, esteemed him and respected

him.

After we left, I felt positively exhilarated at having had an evening in

Vedia's company and having talked with her. Her escort, fortunately for

me, had not been Flavius Clemens but young Duillius Silanus, son of the

consul, who had never met me before.

CHAPTER XXXIV

PALUS THE INCOMPARABLE

Within a very few days after my encounter with Vedia at Bambilio's dinner

Falco and I had just ascended the stair of his residence after returning

from a conference with Pullanius and his partners at which both sides had

finally agreed on terms to the last detail and the contracts had been

drawn up, executed, signed and sealed. He said:

"Phorbas, I am pleased with you. Such imposture as I have enticed you into

cannot have been palatable to a man of your character. You have manifestly

disrelished it, but you have valiantly stomached it for my sake. Actually

you may be comforted, for it has not really been dishonest or

dishonorable; you have only acted and spoken vicariously for Salinator: to

a certainty he would have done and said just what you have, had he been

present in person.

"You are a wonderful actor. No Greek or part Greek or half Greek or

quarter Greek or thirty-second Greek I ever knew or heard of, clever as

Greeks are at histrionics, could so perfectly act a Roman noble in every

detail of demeanor, manner and word: down to the most trifling expression

of every prejudice inherent in a Roman born. I admire you. Also I thank

you.

"And I am as relieved as you will be to be able to tell you that your

masquerade is at an end, successful and unsuspected.

"Now the important thing is for Salsonius Salinator to vanish from Rome at

once.

"I suppose you have the wigs and false-beards you said you would buy or

have made?"

"They are in my dressing-room," I replied.

"Then," he continued, "have yourself waked early, have your valet paint

you and powder you and rouge you and fit you out with a wig like the head

of hair you had before I made you impersonate Salinator, and with a false

beard no one will suspect; have him rig you up in your favorite attire and

load you with jewelry, then set off in my travelling-carriage for Baiae.

Be out of Rome by sunrise. Travel straight to Baiae as rapidly as you find

practicable without fatiguing yourself. At Baiae you will have the Villa

and servants all to yourself. Stay there until you have grown your hair

and beard as it was before your masquerade. Then return to Rome as

Phorbas."

He paused, gazed at me and added:

"And I mean to make a new will. Besides leaving you your freedom and the

legacy specified in my last will I mean to leave you my gem-collection and

a full fourth of all my other estate. You deserve a lavish reward and I

believe I love you better than any living human being."

I thanked him with my best imitation of the manner of a Greek, but with

genuine feeling and from a full heart.

Actually I was glad to get out of Rome, glad to linger at Baiae. I made my

time as long as I could and resisted several importunities from Falco

before I finally returned to the city more than a year after I had left

it. Thus I was out of Rome during the great fire, which destroyed, along

with the Temple and Altar of Peace, the Temples of the Divine Julius and

the Divine Augustus, the Temple of Vesta, the Atrium of Vesta and most of

the other buildings about the great Forum, also the Porticus Margaritaria

and the shop of Orontides. Strangely enough, when, at Baiae, I read

letters from Falco, Tanno and Agathemer describing the devastation, my

mind dwelt more on the annihilation of the shop where I had encountered

Vedia than on the destruction of the Palace records and most of the public

records, or of the many revered temples which had vanished in the flames.

When I returned to Rome the ruins were already largely cleared, and

rebuilding, especially of the Temple of Vesta, was vigorously under way.

In Falco's household and manner of life I found few changes, except that

Falco, really in excellent health, had become concerned about his trifling

ailments, and, after trying one and another physician, had enrolled

himself among the patients of the most distinguished exponent of the

healing arts. Galen therefore, was a frequent visitor at my home and I saw

him not infrequently. When I had some minor discomfort, Falco, always

pampering me, called Galen in and enrolled me also among his charges.

After my return to the City the chief topic of conversation among persons

of all grades of society and the pivot, so to speak, on which the

spectacles of the amphitheater revolved was Palus the Gladiator.

I may set down here that I, personally, am now, as I was when I saw him

appear as a charioteer for the last time, certain that Palus was Commodus

in person. And I set this down as a fact. It will be seen later that I had

more opportunity than any man in Rome, outside of the Palace, to know the

facts.

Many people then believed and not a few still maintain that Palus was

merely a crony of Commodus. Some whispered that he was a half-brother of

Commodus, a son of Faustina and a favorite gladiator, brought up by the

connivance of her too-indulgent husband; which wild tale suits neither

with Faustina's actual deportment, as contrasted with the lies told of her

by her detractors, nor with the character of Aurelius. Others even hinted

that Palus was a half-brother of Commodus on the other side, off-spring of

Aurelius and a concubine. This invention consorts still worse with the

nature of Aurelius, who was one of the most uxorious of men and by nature

monogamic and austere, almost ascetic. Some contented themselves with

conjecturing that Palus accidentally resembled Commodus, which was not so

far from the truth.

For I knew Ducconius Furfur from our boyhood and I solemnly assert that

Palus was Commodus and that, whenever Palus appeared in the circus and,

later, in the amphitheater, while the Imperial Pavilion was filled by the

Imperial retinue, with the throne occupied apparently by the Emperor, the

throne was occupied by a dummy emperor, Ducconius Furfur, in the Imperial

attire, and Commodus was in the arena as Palus. Anyone who chooses may,

from this pronouncement, set me down as a credulous ninny, if it suits his

notions.

When Palus drove a chariot in the circus he never appeared with his face

fully exposed, but invariably wore over its upper portion the half-mask of

gauze, which is designed to protect a charioteer's eyes from dust and

flying grains of sand. Similarly, when Palus entered the arena as a

gladiator he never fought in any of those equipments in which gladiators

appear bareheaded or with faces exposed: as a _retiarius_, for instance.

He always fought as a _secutor_ or _murmillo_, or in the armor proper to a

Samnite, Thracian, or heavy-armed Greek or Gaul; all of which equipments

include a heavy helmet with a vizor. Palus always fought with his vizor

down.

It seems to me that the plain inference from these facts corroborates my

opinions concerning Palus: certainly it strengthens my belief in my views.

And these facts were and are known to be facts by all who, as spectators

in the circus or in the amphitheater, beheld Palus as charioteer or as

gladiator.

As a gladiator he was more than marvellous, he was miraculous. I was

present at all his public appearances from the time of my return from

Baiae. Also I had seen him closer, from the senatorial boxes in the

amphitheater, three several times during my impersonation of Salsonius

Salinator. Moreover I had seen him as a gladiator not a few times before

that, since Falco, soon after we came to Rome from Africa, because of his

affection for me and his tendency to indulge me in every imaginable way

and to arrange for me every conceivable pleasure, had contrived to use the

influence of some new-found friends to make possible my presence at shows

in the Colosseum, and that in as good a seat as was accessible to any

free-born Roman not a noble or senator.

The very first time I saw Palus in the arena I felt sure he was Commodus

in person, for he had to a marvel every one of his characteristics of

height, build, outline, agility, grace, quickness and deftness and all his

tricks of attitude and movement. The two were too identical to be anything

except the very same man.

It will occur to any reader of these memoirs that Palus was a left-handed

fighter, and that Commodus not only fought left-handed, but wrote, by

preference, with his left hand and with it more easily, rapidly and

legibly than with his right. But I do not lay much stress on this for

about one gladiator in fifty fights left-handed, so that the fact that

Palus was left-handed, while it accords with my views, does not, in my

opinion, help to prove them.

What, to my mind, much more tends to confirm my views, is the well-known

fact that Palus was always equipped with armor and weapons more

magnificent and more expensive than any ever seen on other gladiators.

Everything he used or wore was of gold or heavily gilt; even his spear

heads and sword blades were brilliantly gilded; so were his helmets,

shields, bucklers, corselets, breastplates, the scales of his kilt-straps

when he fought as a Greek, and his greaves, whether of Greek pattern or of

some other fashion. If he appeared in an armament calling for arm-rings,

leg-rings, or leg-wrappings, these were always also heavily gilt. So was

his footgear, whether he wore thigh-boots, full-boots, half-boots,

soldiers' brogues, half-sandals or sandals. His shoulder-guards (called

"wigs" in the slang of the prize-ring) were, apparently, of pure cloth of

gold, which also appeared to be the material of his aprons when his

accoutrements did not include a kilt.

Now it may be said that this merely indicates that his equipment was the

most extravagant instance of the manner in which opulent enthusiasts

lavished their cash on the outfitting of their favorites in the arena. To

me it seems too prodigal for the profusion of any or all of such

spendthrifts: it appears to me more like the self-indulgence of the

vainglorious master of the world. Palus often wore a helmet so bejeweled

that its cost would have overtaxed the wealth of Didius Julianus.

I consider that my opinions are corroborated by the well-known fact that

whenever Palus appeared as a gladiator in the amphitheater, Galen was

present in the arena as chief of the surgeons always at hand to dress the

wounds of victors or of vanquished men who had won the approbation or

favor of the spectators or of the Imperial party. True, Galen was often

there when Palus was not in the arena, for he was always on the watch for

anatomical knowledge to be had from observation of dying men badly

wounded. But, on the other hand, while he was often in the arena when

Palus was not there, he was never absent when Palus was fighting.

Similarly, after Aemilius Laetus was appointed Prefect of the Palace, he

was always present in person in the arena whenever Palus appeared in it.

This, too, makes for my contentions.

The first fight in which I saw Palus revealed to me, and brought home to

me with great force, the reason for his nickname, its origin and its

astonishing appropriateness. The word "_palus_" has a number of very

different meanings: manifestly its fitness as a pet name for the most

perfect swordsman ever seen in any arena came from its use to denote the

paling of a palisade, or any stake or post. Palus, in a fight, always

appeared to stand still: metaphorically he might be said to seem as

immobile as the post upon which beginners in the gladiatorial art practice

their first attempts at strokes, cuts, thrusts and lunges. So little did

he impress beholders as mobile, so emphatically did he impress them as

stationary, that he might almost as well have been an upright stake,

planted permanently deep in the sand.

I first saw him fight as a _secutor_, matched against a _retiarius_. This

kind of combat is, surely, the most popular of all the many varieties of

gladiatorial fights; and justly, for such fights are by far the most

exciting to watch and their incidents perpetually varied, novel and

unpredictable. It is exciting because the _retiarius_, nude except for one

small shoulder-guard and a scanty apron, appears to have no chance

whatever against the _secutor_ with his big vizored helmet, his complete

body-armor, his kilt of lapped leather straps plated with polished metal

scales, his greaves or leg-rings or boots and his full-length, curved

shield and Spanish sword. The _secutor_, always the bigger man and fully

armed and armored, appears invincible against the little manikin of a

_retiarius_ skipping about bareheaded and almost naked and armed only with

his trident, a fisherman's three-tined spear, with a light handle and

short prongs, his little dagger and his cord net, which, when spread, is

indeed large enough to entangle any man, but which he carries crumpled up

to an inconspicuous bunch of rope no bigger than his head.

Yet the fact is the reverse of the appearance. No one not reckless or

drunk ever bet even money on an ordinary _secutor_. The odds on the

_retiarius_ are customarily between five to three and two to one. And most

_secutors_ manifestly feel their disadvantage. As the two men face each

other and the _lanista_ gives the signal anyone can see, usually, that the

_retiarius_ is confident of victory and the _secutor_ wary and cautious or

even afraid. Dreading the certain cast of the almost unescapable net, the

_secutor_ keeps always on the move, and continually alters the direction

and speed and manner of his movement, taking one short step and two long,

then three short and one long, breaking into a dogtrot, slowing to a

snail's-pace, leaping, twisting, curving, zigzagging, ducking and in every

way attempting to make it impossible for the _retiarius_ to foretell from

the movement he watches what the next movement will be.

Palus behaved unlike any other _secutor_ ever seen in the arena. He

availed himself of none of the usual devices, which _lanistae_ taught with

such care, in the invention of which they gloried and in which they

drilled their pupils unceasingly. He merely stood still and watched his

adversary. The cunning cast of the deadly net he avoided by a very slight

movement of his head or body or both. No _retiarius_ ever netted him, yet

the net seldom missed him more than half a hand's breadth. When the

disappointed _retiarius_ skipped back to the length of his net-cord and

retrieved his net by means of it, Palus let him gather it up, never dashed

at him, but merely stepped sedately towards him. If the _retiarius_ ran

away, Palus followed, but never in haste, always at a slow, even walk. No

matter how often his adversary cast his net at him, Palus never altered

his demeanor. The upshot was always the same. The spectators began to jeer

at the baffled _retiarius_, he became flustered, he ventured a bit too

near his immobile opponent, Palus made an almost imperceptible movement

and the _retiarius_ fell, mortally wounded.

I was never close enough to Palus to see clearly the details of his

lunges, thrusts and strokes. I saw him best when I was a spectator in the

Colosseum while impersonating Salsonius Salinator, for in my guise as

colonial magnate I sat well forward. Even then I was not close enough to

him to descry the finer points of his incomparable swordsmanship. Yet what

I saw makes me regard as fairly adequate the current praises of him

emanating from those wealthy enthusiasts who were reckoned the best judges

of such matters. By the reports I heard they said that Palus never cut a

throat, he merely nicked it, but the tiny nick invariably and accurately

severed the carotid artery, jugular vein or windpipe.

I can testify, from my own observation, to his having displayed comparable

skill in an equally effective stab in a different part of his adversary's

body. As is well known, a deep slash of the midthigh, inside, causes death

nearly as quickly as a cut throat; if the femoral artery is divided the

blood pours out of the victim almost as from an inverted pail, a horrible

cascade. Most of the acclaimed gladiators use often this deadly stroke

against the inside midthigh, slashing it to the bone, leaving a long,

deep, gaping wound. Palus never slashed an adversary's thigh; in killing

by a thigh wound he always delivered a lunge which left a small puncture,

but invariably also left the femoral artery completely severed, so that

the life-blood gushed out in a jet astonishingly violent, the victim

collapsing and dying very quickly. Such a parade requires altogether

transcendant powers of accuracy from eye and hand.

Besides fighting as a _secutor_ against a _retiarius_ Palus in the same

accoutrements fought with men similarly equipped, or accoutred as Greeks,

Gauls, Thracians, Samnites, or _murmillos;_ also he appeared in the

equipment of each of these sorts of gladiators against antagonists

equipped like himself or in any of the other fashions.

In all these countless fights he was never once wounded by any adversary

nor did he ever deliver a second stroke, thrust or lunge against any: his

defence was always impregnable, his attack always unerring; when he lunged

his lunge never missed and was always fatal, unless he purposely spared a

gallant foe.

Besides the exhibitions of bravado and self-confidence traditional with

gladiators, all of which he displayed again and again, Palus devised more

than one wholly original with himself.

For instance, he would take his stand in the arena equipped as a

_secutor_, the _lanista_ would have in charge not one _retiarius_, but

ten, or even a dozen. One would attack Palus and when, after a longer or

shorter contest, he was killed, the _lanista_, would, without any respite,

allow a second to rush at Palus; then a third; and so on till everyone had

perished by the _secutor's_ unerring sword. No other secutor ever killed

more than one _retiarius_ without a good rest between the first fight and

the second. Palus, as was and is well known, killed more than, a thousand

adversaries, of whom more than three hundred wore the accoutrements of a

_retiarius_.

Palus was even more spectacular as a _dimachaerus_, so called from having

two sabers, for a _dimachaerus_ is a gladiator accoutred as a Thracian,

but without any shield and carrying a naked saber in each hand. Such a

fighter is customarily matched against an adversary in ordinary Thracian

equipment. He has to essay the unnatural feat of guarding himself with one

sword while attacking with the other. Such a feat is akin to those of

jugglers and acrobats, for a sword is essentially an instrument of assault

and cannot, by its very nature, take the place of a shield as a

protection. Everybody, of course, knows that showy and startling ruse said

to have been invented by the Divine Julius, which consists in surprising

one's antagonist by parrying a stroke with the sword instead of with the

shield and simultaneously using the shield as a weapon, striking its upper

rim against the adversary's chin. But this can succeed only against an

opponent dull-witted, unwary, clumsy and slow, and then as a surprise. A

_dimachaerus_ has to depend on parrying and his antagonist knows what to

expect.

Palus was the most perfect _dimachaerus_ ever seen in the Colosseum.

Without a shield he fought and killed many Thracians, Greeks, Gauls,

_murmillos_, Samnites and _secutors_. He even, many times, fought two

Thracians at once, killing both and coming off unscathed. I saw two of

these exhibitions of insane self-confidence and I must say that Palus made

good his reliance on his incredible skill. He pivoted about between his

adversaries, giving them, apparently, every chance to attack

simultaneously, distract him and kill him. Yet he so managed that, even if

their thrusts appeared simultaneous, there was between them an interval,

brief as a heart-beat, but long enough for him to dispose of one and turn

on the other, or escape one and pierce the other. I could not credit my

own eyes. With my belief as to the identity of Palus I marvelled that a

man whose life was dominated by the dread of assassination, who feared

poison in his wine and food, who hedged himself about with guards and then

feared the guards themselves, who distrusted everybody, who dreaded every

outing, who was uneasy even inside his Palace, felt perfectly at ease and

serenely safe in the arena with no defence but two sabers, and he between

two hulking ruffians, as fond of life as any men, and knowing that they

must kill him or be killed by him. In this deadly game he felt no qualms,

only certitude of easy victory.

The controversies over the identity of Palus have produced a whole

literature of pamphlets, some maintaining that he was Commodus, others

professing to prove that he was not, of which some rehearse every possible

theory of his relationship to Aurelius or Faustina. Among these the most

amazing are those which set forth the view that Palus was Commodus, but no

skillful swordsman, rather a brazen sham, killing ingloriously helpless

adversaries who could oppose to his edged steel only swords of lath or

lead.

This absurdity is in conflict with all the facts. Manifestly the

antagonists of Palus were as well armed as he, both for defence and

attack.

And, what is much more, the populace clamored for Palus, booed and cat-

called if Palus did not appear in the arena; cheered him to the echo when

he did appear; yelled with delight and appreciation at each exhibition of

his prophetic intuition as to what his adversary was about to do, of his

preternaturally perfect judgment as to what to do himself, of the

instantaneous execution of whatever movement he purposed, of its complete

success; and applauded him while he went off as no other gladiator ever

was applauded. It was the popular demand for him which made possible and

justified the unexampled fee paid Palus for each of his appearances in the

arena. The managers of the games were obliged to include Palus in each

exhibition or risk a riot of the indignant populace.

Now no sham fighter could fool the Roman populace. A make-believe

swordsman, such as the pamphlets which I have cited allege Commodus to

have been, might, if Emperor, have overawed the senators and nobles of

equestrian rank and compelled their unwilling applause of sham feats. But

no man, not even an Emperor, could coerce the Roman proletariat into

applauding a fighter unworthy of applause. Our populace, once seated to

view a show of any kind, cannot be controlled, cannot even be swayed. No

fame of any charioteer, beast-fighter or gladiator can win from them

tolerance of the smallest error of judgment, defect of action, attempt at

foul play or hint of fear: they boo anything of which they disapprove and

not Jupiter himself could elicit from them applause of anything except

exhibitions of courage, skill, artistry and quickness fine enough to rouse

their admiration. They admired Palus, they adored him.

This is well known to all men and proves Palus a consummate artist as a

gladiator. Not only would the populace howl a bungler or coward off the

sand, they know every shade of excellence; only a superlatively perfect

swordsman could kindle their enthusiasm and keep it at white heat year

after year as did Palus.

Palus, I may remark, was always a gallant fighter, and a combination of

skill and gallantry in an adversary so won his goodwill that he never

killed or seriously wounded such an opponent. If his antagonist had an

unusually perfect guard and a notably dangerous attack, was handsome,

moved gracefully, displayed courage and fought with impeccable fairness

Palus felt a liking for him, showed it by the way in which he stood on the

defensive and mitigated the deadliness of his attacks, played him longer

than usual to demonstrate to all the spectators the qualities he discerned

in him, and, when he was convinced that the onlookers felt as he felt,

disabled his admired match with some effective but trifling wound.

Then, when his victim collapsed, Palus would leap back from him, sheath

his sword, and saw the air with his empty left hand, fingers extended and

pressed together, thumb flat against the crack between the roots of the

index finger and big finger, twisting his hand about and varying the angle

at which he sawed the air, so that all might see that he wished his fallen

adversary spared and was suggesting that the spectators nearest him

imitate his gesture and give the signal for mercy by extending their arms

thumbs flat to fingers.

Except Murmex Lucro I never saw any other gladiator presume to suggest to

the spectators which signal he would like them to display; and Murmex had

the air of a man taking a liberty with his betters and not very sure

whether they would condone his presumption or resent his insolence;

whereas Palus waved his arm much as Commodus raised his from the Imperial

throne when, as Editor of the games, he decided the fate of a fallen

gladiator concerning whom the populace were so evenly divided between

disfavorers and favorers that neither the victor nor his _lanista_ dared

to interpret so doubtful a mandate.

The most amazing fact concerning Palus was that his audiences never

wearied of watching him fence. It is notorious that the spectators in the

Colosseum always have been and are, in general, impatient of any

noticeable prolongation of a fight. Only a very small minority of the

populace and a larger, but still small, minority of the gentry and

nobility, take delight in the fine points of swordsmanship for themselves.

Most spectators, while acclaiming skilled fence and expecting it, look

upon it merely as a means for adding interest to the preliminaries of what

they desire to behold. Even senators and nobles admit that the pleasure of

viewing gladiatorial shows comes from seeing men killed. Contests are

thrilling chiefly because of their suggestion of the approach of the

moment which brings the supreme thrill.

The populace, quite frankly, rate the fighting as a bore; they do not come

to watch skilled swordsmen fence; they want to see two men face each other

and one kill the other at once. It is the killing which they enjoy. The

upper tiers of spectators in the amphitheater seldom give the signal for

mercy when a defeated man is down and helpless, even though he be handsome

and graceful and has fought bravely, skillfully and gallantly. One seldom

sees an outstretched arm, with the hand extended, fingers close together

and thumb flat against them, raised anywhere from the back seats; their

occupants habitually, in such cases, wave their upraised arms with the

hands clenched and thumbs extended, waggling their thumbs by half rotating

their wrists, to make the thumb more conspicuous, yelling the while, so

that the amphitheater is full of their insistent roar and the upper tiers

aflash with flickering thumbs. They weigh no fine points as to the worth

of the vanquished man, they do not value a good fighter enough to want him

saved to fight again, they come to see men die and they want the defeated

man slaughtered at once.

They are habituated to acquiescing if the Emperor--or the Editor, if the

Prince is not present--or the nobility contravene their wishes and give

the signal for mercy when a gallant fighter is down by accident,

misadventure or because he was outmatched. But there is often a burst of

howls if the signal for mercy comes not from the Imperial Pavilion or the

whole _podium_, but merely from some part of the nobility or senators.

Generally, if the Emperor has not given or participated in the signal for

mercy, scattered individuals among the proletariat proclaim their

disappointment by booing, cat-calls, or strident whistlings.

Now Palus was so popular, so beloved by the slum-dwellers, that whenever

he showed a disposition to spare an opponent, the whole mass of the

populace were quick with the mercy-signal: the moment they saw Palus

sheathe his blade their arms went up with his, almost before his, thumbs

as flat as his, never a thumb out nor any fingers clenched.

More than this, no spectator, while Palus played an adversary, ever yelled

for a prompt finish to the bout, as almost always happened at the first

sign of delay in the case of any other fighter. So comprehensible, so

unmistakable, so manifest, so fascinating were the fine points of the

swordsmanship displayed by Palus that even the rearmost spectator, even

the most brutish lout could and did relish them and enjoy them and crave

the continuance of that pleasure.

Most of all the Colosseum audiences not only insisted on Palus appearing

in each exhibition, not only longed for his entrance, not merely came to

regard all the previous fights of the day as unwelcome postponements of

the pleasure of watching Palus fence, but were manifestly impatient for

the crowning delight of each day, the ecstacy of beholding a bout between

Palus and Murmex Lucro, which contests were always bloodless.

CHAPTER XXXV

MURMEX

Customarily, while Palus flourished, each day began with beast-fights, the

noon pause was filled in by exhibitions of athletes, acrobats, jugglers,

trained animals and such like, and the surprise; then the gladiatorial

shows lasted from early afternoon till an hour before sunset. Palus and

Murmex appeared about mid-afternoon and were matched against the victors

in the earlier fights. Each located himself at one focus of the ellipse of

the arena, at which points two simultaneous fights were best seen by the

entire audience. There they began each fight, not simultaneously, but

alternately, till all their antagonists were disposed of, most killed and

some spared. The spectators seldom hurried Murmex to end a fight; they

never hurried Palus. His longest delay in finishing with an adversary,

even his manifest intention to exhaust an opponent rather than to wound

him, never elicited any protest from any onlooker. All, breathless,

fascinated, craned to watch the perfection of his method, every movement

of his body, all eyes intent on the point of his matchless blade.

Last of the day's exhibitions, came the fencing match between Palus and

Murmex, at the center of the arena, empty save for those two and their two

_lanistae_. All others in the arena, including the surgeons, their helpers

and the guards, drew off to positions close under the _podium_ wall.

Murmex and Palus fenced in all sorts of outfits, except that neither ever

fought as a _retiarius_. Mostly both were equipped as _secutors_, but they

fought also as _murmillos_, Greeks, Gauls, Thracians, Samnites and

_dimachaeri_, or one in any of these equipments against the other in any

other.

Sometimes they delighted the populace by donning padded suits liberally

whitened with flour or white clay, their _murmillos'_ helmets similarly

whitened, and then attacking each other with quarter-staffs of ash,

cornel-wood or holly. A hit, of course, showed plainly on the whitened

suits. As neither could injure the other in this sort of fight, and as

they were willing to humor the populace, each was careless about his guard

and reckless in his attack. Even so hits were infrequent, since each, even

when most lax, had an instinctive guard superior to that of the most

expert and cautious fencer among all other contemporary fighters. Even

when, very occasionally, if Palus happened to be in a rollicking mood,

each substituted a second quarter-staff for his shield and, as it were,

travestied a _dimachaerus_, as what might be called a two-staff-man or a

double-staff-man, hits were still not frequent. Each had a marvellously

impregnable defence and they were very evenly matched in the use of the

quarter-staff in place of a shield as they were in everything else. Palus

fought better with his left hand attacking and his right defending, Murmex

better the other way, but each was genuinely ambidextrous and used either

hand at will, shifting at pleasure. When, amid the flash of their staffs,

either scored, the hit brought a roar of delight from the upper tiers,

even from the front rows, for the most dignified senators caught the

infection of the general enthusiasm and so far forgot themselves as to

yell like street urchins in their ecstasy.

Except in this farcical sort of burlesque fight neither ever scored a hit

on the other, in all the years throughout which their combats finished

each day of every gladiatorial exhibition. Yet the audience never tired of

their bloodless bouts and, while the nobility and gentry never joined in,

the populace invariably roared a protest if they saw the _lanistae_ make a

move to separate them, and yelled for them to go on and fence longer.

The interest of the populace was caused by the fact, manifest and plain to

all, that, while Murmex and Palus loved each other and had no intention of

hurting each other, their matches had no appearance whatever of being sham

fights. From the first parade until they separated every stroke, feint,

lunge and thrust appeared to be in deadly, venomous earnest and each

unhurt merely because, mortal as was his adversary's attack, his guard was

perfect.

It seemed, in fact, as if each man felt so completely safe, felt so

certain that his guard would never fail him, and at the same time felt so

sure that his crony's guard was equally faultless, that there was no

danger of his injuring his chum, that each attacked the other precisely as

he attacked any other adversary. It was commonly declared among expert

swordsmen and connoisseurs of sword-play, as among recent spectators,

when, talking over the features of an exhibition after it was over, that

practically every thrust, lunge or stroke of either in these bouts would

have killed or disabled any other adversary; certainly it appeared so to

me every time I saw them fence and especially while watching their bouts

after I returned from my year at Baiae, for after that I never missed a

gladiatorial exhibition in the Colosseum. To my mind Palus and Murmex were

manifestly playing with each other, like fox-cubs or Molossian puppies or

wolf-cubs; yet the sport so much resembled actual attack and defence, as

with nearly grown wolf-cubs, that it gave less the impression of play

between friends than that of deadly combat between envenomed foes. Many a

time I have heard or overheard some expert or connoisseur or enthusiast or

provincial visitor, prophesy somewhat in this fashion:

"Some day one of those two is going to kill the other unexpectedly and

unintentionally and by mistake. Each thinks the other will never land on

him; each thinks the other has a guard so impregnable that it will never

be pierced; each uses on the other attacks so unexpected, so sudden, so

subtle, so swift, so powerful, so sustained, so varied that no third man

alive could escape any one of them. It is almost a certainty that that

sort of thing cannot go on forever. One or the other of them may age

sufficiently to retire from the arena, as did Murmex Frugi, safe and

unscarred, as he was not. But it is far more likely, since both are full

of vitality and vigor, that neither will notice the very gradual approach

of age, so that they will go on fighting with eyes undimmed, muscles

supple and minds quick, yet not so quick, supple and keen as now: but the

preternatural powers of one will wane a bit sooner than those of the

other. And sooner or later one will err in his guard and be wounded or

killed."

Most spectators agreed with such forecasts. What is more, most of the

spectators admitted that, as they watched, each attack seemed certain to

succeed; every time either man guarded it seemed as if he must fail to

protect himself.

This, I think, explains the unflagging zest with which the entire

audience, senators, nobles and commonality, watched their bouts, revelled

in them, gloated over the memory of them and longed for more and more.

Consciously or unconsciously, every onlooker felt that sometime, some bout

would end in the wounding, disabling or death of one of the two. And so

perfect was their sword-play, so unfeigned their unmitigated fury of

attack, so genuine the impeccable dexterity of their defence that every

spectator felt that the supreme thrill, even while so long postponed, was

certain to arrive. More, each felt, against his judgment, that it was

likely to arrive the next moment. It was this illogical but unescapable

sensation which kept the interest of the whole audience, of the whole of

every audience, at a white heat over the bouts of Murmex and Palus. I

myself experienced this condition of mind and became infected with the

common ardor. I found myself rehearsing to myself the incidents of their

last-seen bout, anticipating the next, longing for it: though I never had

rated myself as ardent over gladiatorial games, but rather as lukewarm

towards them, and considered myself much more interested in paintings,

statuary, reliefs, ornaments, bric-a-brac, furniture, fine fabrics and all

artistries and artisanries. Yet I confessed to myself that, from the time

I saw first a bout between them, anticipation of seeing them fence, or

enjoyment of it, came very high among my interests and my pleasures.

To some extent, I think, the long and unequaled vogue of their popularity

was due to the great variety of their methods and almost complete absence

of monotony in their bouts.

Palus was left-handed, but for something like every third bout or a third

of each bout he fought right-handed, merely for bravado, as if to

advertise that he could do almost as well with the hand less convenient.

Murmex was right-handed, but he too fought often left-handed, perhaps one-

fifth of the time. So, in whatever equipment, one saw each of them fight

both ways. Therefore as _murmillos_ they fought both right-handed, both

left-handed, and each right-handed against the other fighting left-handed.

This gave a perpetually shifting effect of novelty, surprise and interest

to every bout between them. They similarly had four ways of appearing as

Greeks, Gauls, Samnites, Thracians, _secutors_ or _dimachaeri_.

Their bouts as _dimachaeri_ were breathlessly exciting, for it was

impossible, from moment to moment, to forecast with which saber either

would attack, with which he would guard; and, not infrequently, one

attacked and the other guarded with both. When they fought in this fashion

Galen, it always appeared to me, looked uneasy, keyed up and apprehensive.

Yet neither ever so much as nicked, flicked or scratched the other in

their more than sixty bouts with two sabers apiece.

More than a dozen times they appeared as Achilles and Hector, with the

old-fashioned, full-length, man-protecting shield, the short Argive sword

and the heavy lance, half-pike, half-javelin, of Trojan tradition. Murmex

threw a lance almost as far and true as Palus and the emotion of the

audience was unmistakably akin to horror when both, simultaneously, hurled

their deadly spears so swiftly and so true that it seemed as if neither

could avoid the flying death. Palus, true to his nickname, never visibly

dodged, though Murmex's aim was as accurate as his own; he escaped the

glittering, needle-pointed, razor-edged spear-head by half a hand's-breath

or less by an almost imperceptible inclination of his body, made at the

last possible instant, when it seemed as if the lance had already pierced

him. It was indescribably thrilling to behold this.

Besides fencing equipped as Gauls, Samnites, Thracians and _secutors_ they

appeared in every combination of any of these and of Greeks and

_murmillos_ with every other. Palus as a _dimachaerus_ against Murmex as a

_murmillo_ made a particularly delectable kind of bout. Almost as much so

Murmex as a Gaul against Palus as a Thracian. And so without end.

After my return from Baiae Falco pampered me more than ever and, in

particular, arranged to take me with him to all amphitheater shows and

have me sit beside him in the front row of the nobles immediately behind

the boxes of the senators on the _podium_. This does not sound possible in

our later days, when amphitheater regulations are strictly enforced, as

they had been under the Divine Aurelius and his predecessors. But, while

Commodus was Prince much laxity was rife in all branches of the

government. After the orgies of bribe-taking, favoritism and such like in

the heyday of Perennis and of Cleander, all classes of our society became

habituated to ignoring contraventions of rules. Under Perennis and later

under Cleander not a few senators took with them into their boxes

favorites who were not only not of senatorial rank, nor even nobles, but

not Romans at all: foreign visitors, alien residents of Rome, freedmen or

even slaves, and the other senators, as a class exquisitely sensitive to

any invasion of their privileges by outsiders, winked at the practice

partly because some of them participated in it, much more because they

feared to suffer out-and-out ruin, if, by word or look, they incurred the

disfavor of Perennis while he was all-powerful or, later, of the more

omnipotent Cleander. When a senator saw another so violate propriety,

privilege and law, he assumed that the acting Prefect of the Palace had

been bribed and so dared not protest or whisper disapprobation.

Much more than the senators the nobles obtained secret license to ignore

the rules, or ignored them without license, since, when so many violated

the regulations, no one was conspicuous or likely to be brought to book.

Falco, being vastly wealthy, probably bribed somebody, but I never knew:

when I hinted a query he merely smiled and vowed that we were perfectly

safe.

So I sat beside him through that unforgettable December day, at the end of

which came the culmination of what I have been describing.

The day was perfect, clear, crisp, mild and windless. It was not cold

enough to be chilling, but was cold enough to make completely comfortable

a pipe-clayed ceremonial toga over the full daily garments of a noble or

senator, so that the entire audience enjoyed the temperature and basked in

the brilliant sunrays; for, so late in the year, as the warmth of the sun

was sure to be welcome, the awning had not been spread. I, in my bizarre

oriental attire, wore my thickest garments and my fullest curled wig and

felt neither too cold nor too warm.

I never saw the Colosseum so brilliant a spectacle. It was full to the

upper colonnade under the awning-rope poles, not a seat vacant. Spectators

were sitting on the steps all up and down every visible stair; two or even

three rows on each side of each stair, leaving free only a narrow alley up

the middle of each for the passage in or out of attendants or others.

Spectators filled the openings of the entrance-stairs, all but jamming

each. In each of the cross-aisles spectators stood or crouched against its

back-wall, ducking their heads to avoid protests from the luckier

spectators in the seats behind them. The upper colonnade was packed to its

full capacity with standees.

The program was unusual, gladiatorial exhibitions from the beginning of

the show; and nothing else. The morning was full of brisk fights between

young men; provincials, foreigners and some Italians, volunteer

enthusiasts. The noon pause was filled in by routine fights of old or

aging gladiators nearly approaching the completion of their covenanted

term of service. It ended with a novelty, the encounter of two tight-rope

walkers on a taut rope stretched fully thirty feet in the air. It was

proclaimed that they were rivals for the favor of a pretty freedwoman and

that they had agreed on this contest as a settlement of their rivalry.

Certainly the two, naked save for breech-clouts and each armed with a

light lance in one hand and a thin-bladed Gallic sword in the other,

neared each other with every sign of caution, enmity and courage. Their

sparring for an opening lasted some time, but was breathlessly

interesting. The victor kept his feet on the rope and pierced his rival,

who fell and died from the spear-wound or the fall or both.

During the noon pause the Emperor had left his pavilion. When he returned

I, from my nearby location, was certain that Commodus himself had presided

all the morning, but that now Furfur was taking his place. Certainly Palus

and Murmex entered the arena soon after the noon pause and gave an

exhibition almost twice as long as usual, killing many adversaries. Before

the sun was half way down the sky, as Palus finished an opponent with one

of his all but invisible punctures of the thigh-artery, the upper tiers

first and then all ranks acclaimed this as the death of the twelve-

hundredth antagonist who had perished by his unerring steel.

The daylight had not begun to dim when Murmex and Palus faced each other

for the fencing bout which was to end the day. Each was equipped as a

_secutor_, Murmex in silvered armor, Palus all in gold or gilded arms.

Their swords were not regulation army swords, such a _secutors_ normally

carried, but long-bladed Gallic swords, the longest-bladed swords ever

used by any gladiators.

They made a wonderful picture as the _lanistae_ placed them and stepped

back: Murmex, burly, stocky, heavy of build, thick-set, massive, with vast

girth of chest and bull-neck, his neatly-fitting plated gauntlet, huge on

his big right hand, his big plated boots planted solidly on the sand, his

polished helmet, the great expanse of his silvered shield, his silvered

kilt-strap-scales and silvered greave-boots brilliant in the cool late

light; opposite him Palus, tall, lithe, graceful, slim, agile, all in

gleaming gold, helmet, corselet, shield, kilt, greave-boots and all. They

shone like a composite jewel set in the arena as a cameo in the bezel of a

ring. And the picture they made was framed in the hoop of spectators

crowding the slopes of the amphitheater, all silent after the gusts of

cheers which had acclaimed the two as they took their places.

If possible, their feints and assaults were more thrilling than ever,

unexpected, sudden, swift, all but successful. As always neither capered

or pranced, Murmex not built for such antics, Palus by nature steady on

his feet. But, except that their feet moved cannily, every bit of the rest

of either's body was in constant motion and moved swiftly. The gleam and

flicker of thrust and parry were inexpressibly rapid. Even the upper tiers

craned, breathless and fascinated; and we, further forward, were numb and

quivering with excitement.

I have heard a hundred eye-witnesses describe what occurred. There was

close agreement with what I seemed to see as I watched.

Palus lunged just as Murmex made a brilliantly unpredictable shift of his

position. The shift and lunge came so simultaneously that neither had, in

his calculated, predetermined movement, time to alter his intention;

Murmex, you might say, threw his throat at the spot at which Palus had

aimed his lunge. The sword-point ripped his throat from beside the gullet

to against the spine, all one side of it. He collapsed, the blood

spouting.

Palus cast the dripping sword violently from him, the gleaming blade

flying up into the air and falling far off on the sand. The big shield

fell from his right arm. Both his hands caught his big helmet, lifted it

and threw it behind him. On one knee he sank by Murmex and, with his left

hand, strove to staunch the gushing blood.

Before Galen, before even the _lanistae_ could reach the two, Murmex died.

Palus staggered to his feet and put up his gory hand to his yellow curls,

with a convincingly agonized gesture of grief and horror.

He uttered some words, I heard his voice, but not the words. Folk say he

said:

"I have killed the only match I had on earth, the second-best fighter

earth ever saw."

The audience, I among them, stared, awe-struck and fascinated, at Commodus

laying a bloody hand on his own head; we shuddered: I saw many look back

and forth from Palus in the arena to the figure on the Imperial throne.

The guards ran, the surgeons' helpers ran, even Galen ran, but Aemilius

Laetus reached Palus first, and, between the dazed and stunned _lanistae_,

picked up the big golden helmet and replaced it on his head, hiding his

features. The distance from the _podium_ wall to the center of the arena

is so great, the distance from any other part of the audience so much

greater, that, while many of the spectators were astounded, suspicious or

curious, not one could be certain that Palus was, beyond peradventure, the

Prince of the Republic in person. Palus stood there, alternately staring

at his dead crony and talking to Laetus and Galen.

The heralds had run up with the guards. Laetus, without any pretense of

consultation with the dummy Emperor on the throne, spoke to the heralds

and each stalked off to one focus of the ellipse of the arena. Thence each

bellowed for silence, their deep-toned, resonant, loud, practiced voices

carrying to the upper colonnade everywhere. Silence, deep already since

Murmex received his death-wound and broken only by whispers, deepened. The

amphitheater became almost still. Into the stillness the heralds

proclaimed that next day the funeral games of Murmex Lucro would be

celebrated in the Colosseum where he had died; that all persons entitled

to seats in the Colosseum were thereby enjoined to attend, unless too ill

to leave their homes: that all should come without togas, but, in sign of

mourning for Murmex, wearing over their garments full-length, all-

enveloping rain-cloaks of undyed black wool and similarly colored umbrella

hats; that any person failing to attend so habited would be severely

punished; that the show would be worth seeing, for, in honor of the Manes

of Murmex, to placate his ghost, no defeated fighter would be spared and

all the victors of the morning would fight each other in the afternoon.

Surely the tenth day before the Kalends of January, in December of the

nine hundred and forty-fourth year of the City, [Footnote: 191 A.D.] the

year in which Commodus was nominally consul for the seventh time, and

Pertinax consul for the second time, saw the strangest audience ever

assembled in the amphitheater of the Colosseum. I was there, seated, as on

the day before, next my master, my gaudy Asiatic garments, like his garb

of a noble of equestrian rank, hidden under a great raincoat and my face

shaded by the broad brim of an umbrella hat.

The universal material conventional for mourners' attire is certainly

appropriate and proper for mourning garb. For the undyed wool of black

sheep, when spun and woven, results in a cloth dingy in the extreme. The

wearing of garments made of it suits admirably with grief and gloom of

spirit, deepens sadness, accentuates woe, almost produces melancholy. And

the sight of it, when one is surrounded by persons so habited, conduces to

dejection and depression. This equally was felt by the whole audience.

Instead of being a space glaring in the sunlight shining on an expanse of

white togas, the hollow of the amphitheater was a dingy area of brownish

black under a lowering canopy of sullen cloud, for the sky was heavily

overcast and threatened rain all day, though not a drop fell. The windless

air was damp and penetratingly chilly, so that we almost shivered under

our swathings. The discomfort of not being warm enough and the dispiriting

effect of the grim sky and gloomy interior of the amphitheater was

manifest in a sort of general impression of melancholy and apprehension.

Apprehension, or, certainly, uneasiness, pervaded the audience and, as it

were, seemed to diffuse itself from the Imperial Pavilion, crowded, not,

as usual, with jaunty figures in gaudy apparel, all crimson, blue, and

green, picked out and set off by edgings of silver and gold, but with a

solemn retinue, all hidden under dingy umbrella hats and swathed in rain-

cloaks. To see the throne occupied by a human shape so obscured by its

habiliments gave all beholders an uncanny feeling in which foreboding

deepened into alarm. The appearance of the whole audience, still more of

the Imperial retinue, was one to cause all beholders to interpret the garb

of the spectators as ill-omened, almost as inviting disaster.

In the center of the arena was built up the pyre which was to consume all

that was left of Murmex. It was constructed of thirty-foot logs, each tier

laid across the one below it, the lower tiers of linden, willow, elm and

other quick-burning woods, their interstices filled with fat pine-knots;

the upper tiers of oak and maple, at which last I heard not a few

whispered protests, for old-fashioned folk felt it almost a sacrilege that

holy wood should be used to burn a gladiator, a man of blood. The pyre was

thus a square structure thirty feet on a side and fully twenty feet high;

each side showing silvered log-butts or log-ends, with gilded pine-knots

all between; its top covered with laurel boughs, over which was laid a

crimson rug with golden fringe, setting off the corpse of Murmex, which

lay in the silver armor he had worn in his last fight, high on the mound

of laurel boughs.

At each focus of the arena was placed a round marble altar, one to Venus

Libitina, one to Pluto. By these the heralds took their stands and

proclaimed that no offerings would be made at the altars except one black

lamb at each, that every man slain in the day's fighting would be an

offering to the Manes of Murmex, since the day would be occupied solely

with the celebration of funeral games for the solace of his ghost.

The games began with a set-to of sixteen pairs of gladiators fighting

simultaneously. After this was over the sixteen victors drew off towards

one end of the arena and sixteen other pairs fought simultaneously. After

them the victors of the first set paired off as the _lanistae_ arranged

and the eight pairs fought. The eight victors again rested while the

survivors of the second set simultaneously fought as eight pairs. So they

alternated till only two men survived. A third batch of thirty-two

gladiators then fought in sixteen pairs: then the two survivors of the

first and second batches fought. The heralds proclaimed that the sole

survivor of the first sixty-four would fight again in the afternoon. So

with the sole survivor of the third and fourth batches. This grim butchery

gave a savage tone to the whole day. All the morning many pairs fought,

till one of each pair was killed. But, after the fourth batch, every

victor in any fight was reserved to fight again in the afternoon.

To my eyesight the figure on the throne, even under that broad hat-brim

and enveloped in that thick rain-cloak, was manifestly Commodus in person.

Unmistakably his was every Imperial gesture as he presided as Editor of

the games.

During the noon interval, as usual, the Emperor retired to his robing-room

under the upper tiers of the amphitheater. When again, after the noon

interval, the throne was reoccupied, I felt certain that its occupant was

Ducconius Furfur.

At any rate Palus appeared at once after the noon interval and the first

fight was between him and the survivor of the sixty-four wretches, who had

begun the day's butchery. Palus, of course, killed his man, but with more

appearance of effort and less easily than any adversary he had ever faced

under my observation. The people cheered his victory, but not so

enthusiastically as usual. He did not appear again till the last event of

the day, which was a series of duels between champions in two-horse

chariots, driven by expert charioteers, they and the fighters equipped

with arms and armor such as was used by both sides at the siege of Troy.

Horses are seldom seen in the Colosseum and these pairs, frantic at the

smell of blood, taxed to the utmost the skill and strength of their

drivers, particularly as they were controlled by the old-fashioned reins

of the Heroic period, the manipulation of which calls for methods

different from those effective with our improved modern reins.

The charioteers were capable and their dexterous maneuvering for every

advantage of approach and relative position won many cheers. Eight pairs

fought, then the eight victors paired off, then the four victors, then the

two. The sole survivor then retired and while he was out of the arena

there entered a superb pair of bay horses, drawing a chariot of Greek

pattern, in which, to the amazement of all beholders, was Narcissus, the

wrestler, himself, habited as Automedon and acting as charioteer; while

beside him, magnificent in a triple crested crimson-plumed helmet of the

Thessalian type, in a gilded corselet of the style of the Heroic age, with

gilded scales on its kilt-straps, with gilded greaves, with a big gilded

Argive shield embossed with reliefs, and holding two spears, manifestly

habited as Achilles, stood Palus.

When his refreshed antagonist reëntered in a Trojan chariot and armored

and armed as Hector of Troy, Palus handed his two spears to his Automedon,

leapt from his chariot, walked over to Hector's, and spoke to him. I heard

it reported afterwards that he said:

"It would spoil the program for Hector to slay Achilles, but you have as

much chance of killing me as I of killing you. I am so shaken by Murmex's

death that I am not the man I was yesterday morning and up till then. I

never felt so nearly matched as by you, not even by Murmex. Attack and

spare not. I have given orders that, if you kill me, you shall not suffer

for it in any way. I don't want to live, anyhow, now Murmex is dead."

Whether he said this or something else, he spoke earnestly and walked back

to his chariot nearby, without any elasticity in his tread.

Narcissus, the wrestler, to the astonishment of the spectators, proved

himself a paragon horse jockey. Everyone knew him as a wrestler, as

reported the strongest man alive, as claimed by his admirers to have a

more powerful hand-grasp than any rival, as the favorite wrestling-mate of

the Emperor; all the notabilities had seen him and Commodus wrestle in the

Stadium of the Palace; all Rome knew him for a crony of the Prince; yet no

one had ever heard him praised or even mentioned as a charioteer. Yet he

showed himself a matchless horseman. Hector's charioteer was a master, yet

Narcissus outmaneuvered him, gained the advantage of angle of approach

and, after many turns, gave Palus his chance. The two great lances flew

almost simultaneously; but, as Achilles dodged, Hector fell dying of a

mortal wound in the throat.

What followed was, apparently, according to the prearranged program and

was indubitably in keeping with the equipment of the two champions and

their charioteers; yet it horrified me, and I think all the senators and

nobles as well as most of the audience. As Hector sprawled horridly on the

sand Narcissus veered his pair and, as they passed the fallen man,

Achilles leapt from his chariot. Drawing his Argive sword he slashed the

dying man across his abdomen; then, sheathing his blade, he stood, one

foot on his adversary's neck and, raising his lance and shield, shouted:

"Enalie! Enalie! Enalie!" the old Greek invocation to the war-god. Then he

threw aside his lance and shield and stripped off the armor from the dead.

Arena-slaves carried it to the pyre and placed it upon it, by Murmex.

Narcissus had wheeled the chariot in a short circle and halted it as near

Palus as he could keep it and control the frantic horse. Palus took from

one of the hand-holds at the back of the chariot-rail a long leathern

thong. With his dirk he slit each foot of the corpse between the leg-bone

and the heel-tendon; through the slit he passed the thong, knotting it to

his liking. The doubled thong he tied securely to the rear rim of the

chariot-bed. Retrieving his lance and shield he posed an instant, every

inch Achilles, stepped over Hector's naked corpse and mounted the chariot.

From Automedon he took the reins and the whip, passing him his lance, yet

retaining his great circular shield, nowise hampered by which he drove the

chariot round and round the pyre, the picture, as all could see, he felt,

of Achilles placating the ghost of Patroclus.

This exhibition shocked the whole audience, upper tiers and all. The ghost

of a hiss breathed under the tense hush of the silent beholders. A shudder

ran over the hollow of the amphitheater, as the dragged corpse, mauled by

the sand and turning over, became a mere lump of pounded meat. The chill

of the onlookers appeared to reach Palus. He halted his team near the

pyre, arena-slaves dragged away Hector's corpse, one brought a lighted

torch and Palus himself kindled the pyre at each of its four corners,

walking twice round it. When it was enveloped in crackling flames, he

mounted the chariot and Narcissus drove him out; drove him out, to the

horror of all beholders by the Gate of Ill-omen.

After he vanished through that gate no amphitheater ever again beheld

Palus the Gladiator.

When he was gone all eyes were fixed on the kindling pyre. The flames

blazed up all round it and above it, the smoke mounted skyward in a thick

column, the crackle and roar of the flames was audible all over the

amphitheater; so deep was the solemn stillness. I shall carry to my last

living hour the vivid recollection of that picture: under the grim gray

sky, framed in by the sable hangings which draped the upper colonnade, and

by the clingy audience, against the yellow sand, that column of sooty

smoke and below it the red glare of the blazing pyre.

CHAPTER XXXVI

ANXIETY

After my seclusion at Baiae, up to the terrible events which I am about to

narrate, by far the most important of my experiences had been my personal

observations of the fights of Palus the Gladiator and what I had heard and

thought about him. Therefore I have narrated those at length and first.

Now I approach the story of my most dreadful miseries.

From my return to Rome my life had gone on much as it had before my master

had compelled me to impersonate Salsonius Salinator and, in so doing, to

resume my natural appearance as I had looked while my genuine self, and

thus, undisguised, to mingle with the associates of my normal early life.

After my hair and beard had regained their previous luxuriance and I was

again painted, rouged, frizzed, bejeweled, and bedizened, I felt safe and,

was in fact, almost entirely safe. In this guise I enjoyed life. Falco was

indulgent to me and I had every luxury at my command.

Falco's mania for gem-collecting did not wane, but, if possible, grew on

him. His ventures all prospered, his profits from risky speculations

poured in, his normal income from his heritage increased; and, of all this

opulence, every surplus denarius was paid out for gems and curios. Yet he

never was so much a faddist as to lose a day from the games of the circus

and the amphitheater. He viewed every show of gladiators, every day of

racing, almost every combat and every race.

The day after the spectacular games for Murmex and his more spectacular

cremation, the eighth day before the Kalends of January, was nominally the

last racing day of the year. The weather was fair and mild. The Circus

Maximus was crowded, the Imperial Pavilion blazed with the retinue about

the Emperor, he and all of us enjoyed the thirty races of four four-horsed

chariots to each. I mention this because it was his last public

appearance.

The festivities of the Saturnalia, which I had prepared for according to

Falco's orders with lavish prodigality, left me more than a little weary.

I spent some days mostly in resting and dozing, being drowsy all day, even

with long nights of sound sleep.

On the fatal last day of the year I did not go out, but read or dozed and

went early to bed. I slept heavily, knowing nothing from composing myself

in bed until I wakened suddenly in the almost complete darkness of the

first hint of light at the dawn of a cloudy, windless winter day, I woke

with a sense of having been roused, of something unusual; and, vaguely

descrying a human figure by my bed asked, sleepily:

"Is that you, Dromo?"

"No," said Agathemer's voice, "it is I."

I raised myself on one elbow, shot through with foreboding. But my

apprehensions were mastered by an idle curiosity. I knew he had some

imperative reason for coming to me, yet I did not ask his errand, but

queried:

"How on earth did you get in?"

"The house-door was open," he said simply.

"But," I marvelled, "I am surprised that the janitor was awake so early."

"He was not," said Agathemer with deliberate emphasis, "he was as fast

asleep in his cell on the right of the vestibule as was the watch-dog in

his on the left."

"And you walked past both unnoticed?" I hazarded.

"I did," said he, "and you had best warn Falco somehow or induce him to

sell his janitor and buy one he can trust or to put in his place some

trusty home-slave. That is no sort of a janitor for the house containing

the second-largest private gem-collection in all Rome. Nor any sort of

watch-dog."

"How came the door unbarred?" I wondered, "who showed you up here?"

"I came up alone," said Agathemer, significantly. "I have not seen a human

being except the snoring janitor. This house is at the mercy of any sneak-

thief. But you can return to that later. I have come to tell you good

news. Commodus is dead!"

"Really?" I quavered.

Oddly enough I felt no sense of relief. Before my eyes arose the picture

of Commodus as I had seen him facing the mutineers from Britain before he

condemned Perennis: I recalled how often I had heard said of him that he

was the noblest born of all our Emperors from the Divine Julius down; that

he was the handsomest and the strongest man in any assembly about him,

however large; that in his Imperial Regalia he looked more imperial than

any man ever had: I contrasted his possession of these qualities with his

pitiful squandering of his boundless opportunities, with his frittering

away his life on horse-racing, sword-play and such like frivolities. I

could not think of myself, only of what Commodus might have been and had

not been. I mourned for him and Rome.

Agathemer sat down on the edge of my bed and told his story.

"You know," he said, "that, as gem-expert and as salesman for Orontides, I

have many friends in the Palace. I have carefully kept out of it myself

and Orontides has acquiesced, for I told him I had good reason to avoid

going in there, as you well know I have. If Marcia had seen me she would

have recognized me and I should not have lived many hours, for she,

believing you dead, would regard me as, of all men, the most likely to see

through the utilization of Ducconius Furfur as a dummy Emperor to free

Commodus for masquerading as Palus. She would want me out of the way as

the only man in Rome who had known Furfur in Sabinum. Therefore I kept

away from the Palace.

"But my good friends among the valets and chamberlains and secretaries,

and even higher officials have not only kept me posted as to the most

interesting happenings, intrigues and rumors, but one or two close to the

Emperor have regularly communicated to me many details of Palace gossip."

Daily, since the death of Murmex, Agathemer had been informed of long,

heated and ever longer and more violent discussions between Commodus and

Marcia, often, with Eclectus also present and participating, for he had

been acting towards Commodus more as an equal toward a crony than as Head

Chamberlain of the Palace towards his master. Laetus, too had also

participated, sometimes in place of Eclectus, sometimes along with him,

for he also had been comporting himself more as a chum of Commodus than as

Prefect of the Praetorium towards his Emperor.

The substance of the discussions had been always the same. Commodus, at

once after the death of Murmex, announced his intention of turning his

Imperial duties and dignities over to Ducconius Furfur and of going to the

Choragium, there and thenceforward to live and to die as Palus the

Gladiator. He declared that as Emperor he never had an hour free from

anxiety, always in dread of assassination by poison or otherwise, whereas,

as a gladiator among gladiators, he felt perfectly safe and carefree,

beloved and watched over by all his companions and certain to win all his

fights.

"As Emperor," he said, "I'll not live a year; as Palus I'll most likely

die of old age, forty years or more from now. Furfur and I are so alike

that no one can tell us apart, so no one will ever suspect that the man

acting as Emperor is not the same man who has filled that place ever since

Father died."

Marcia had talked to him of his duty and he had rejoined that he had

always known that he was unfit to be the Emperor, had feared his

responsibilities, had undertaken them unwillingly, had mostly bungled

them, and the world would be far better off with anybody else as Emperor,

that everybody knew it and that he was despised by the whole Senate and

nobility and for that reason more unhappy although he was unhappy enough

so anyhow, without the covert jeers of the magistrates; whereas he was the

best gladiator ever and all gladiators and experts acknowledged and

acclaimed him peerless; as a gladiator he would be happy and enjoy life up

to whatever end came to him, preferably an unexpected accidental sudden

death such as had befallen Murmex. Ducconius Furfur had not only sat in

his throne at shows, but had received embassies, read better than he the

addresses composed for him by his Prefects of the Praetorium and

Secretaries, knew all the tricks of the office and could and would be a

better Emperor than ever he had been.

When Eclectus and Laetus argued with him the results were similar.

Then Marcia admonished him that while Furfur had escaped detection in mere

routine matters he was certain to be detected within a few days if he

essayed all the Imperial duties before all sorts of people. In that case

some sort of revolt would abolish him and put a new Emperor in place of

him and any such chosen autocrat would quickly order the death of Palus

the Gladiator to assure himself the throne. To this line of argument

Commodus had been as deaf as to all other lines.

"Why," he had said, "if I change clothes with Furfur you wouldn't know the

difference yourself. If we both were garbed as Emperor, Laetus wouldn't

know which to obey. And if my wife and most loyal servant cannot tell

which is which when we are side by side and habited alike, who will ever

suspect that Furfur is not I when I am out of the way, far off, living as

Palus the Swordsman, never alongside the Emperor or in sight at the same

time? The plan cannot miscarry."

He had announced that he meant on the Kalends of January to take up his

abode in the Choragium and leave the Palace and its adjuncts and all his

prerogatives to Ducconius Furfur. He had Furfur in and the five had a

heated wrangle. Furfur, after the discussion, had another with Marcia,

Eclectus and Laetus, declaring that he thought the scheme as insane as

they thought it, but dared not show reluctance for fear of being put to

death at once: as an impostor Emperor he would, at least, have a chance,

if a faint chance, of success and survival.

Then they all had a long altercation on the last day of the year, during

which Commodus cursed Marcia and Eclectus and Laetus and vowed he would

have them all executed if they mentioned the subject again. He imperiously

bade them acquiesce and so silenced them.

Then he made Furfur, who pretended to him that he was delighted, remain to

drink with him. They drank till both were dead drunk and snoring.

Marcia, finding them so, held a consultation with Eclectus and Laetus and

proposed to have Narcissus strangle Furfur, saying that with Furfur out of

the way Commodus might come to his senses: she would risk his wrath and be

resigned to death if she failed to placate him; for, with Furfur dead, he

could not carry out his crazy intentions. She said she loved Commodus so

much that she was willing to save him even at the cost of her own life.

Eclectus and Laetus acclaimed her plan and were overjoyed at their

opportunity, for all three hated Furfur. Yet, all three shrank from going

into the room with Narcissus. He, entering alone, mistook the two

sleepers, who had changed clothes, and by mistake for Furfur, strangled

Commodus. After his victim was indubitably dead and past any possibility

of reviving he summoned his accomplices and, when Marcia shrieked and

fainted, for the first time realized his blunder.

Then, frantic, he seized Furfur and strangled him to death long before

Eclectus had revived Marcia from her swoon.

As Agathemer told it to me all this came out in a haphazard tangle of

unfinished sentences, interruptions, fresh starts, questions, answers,

repetitions and explanations.

Meanwhile the day had dawned gray and lowering. Of all my strange

experiences none were more eery than that talk with Agathemer, beginning

in the dark and, with his form and features and expressions effaced,

gradually becoming more and more visible. And towards the end of his

disclosures he checked himself in the middle of a word and, raising his

hand, whispered:

"Hark!"

Silent and tense, we listened. Even in my bedroom, opening on the side

gallery of the peristyle, we heard, from over the roofs, cries of:

"The tyrant is dead! The despot is dead! The prize-fighter is dead! The

murderer is dead!"

"The news is out!" Agathemer ejaculated, and he breathed a prayer to

Mercury, in which I joined. When finally he had told all he had to tell I

marvelled:

"Can it be possible that the most intimate and secret conversations of the

Prince of the Republic, of the most sedulously guarded man on earth, are

thus overheard by underlings and so promptly communicated even to

outsiders presumably to be reckoned among his enemies?"

"I conjecture," Agathemer rejoined, "that I am not the only outsider in

receipt of information of this kind."

"If you have been, all along," I asked, "in receipt of such information,

why have you always talked of Furfur's presence in the Palace and his

utilization as a dummy Emperor while Commodus masqueraded as Palus, as a

conjecture of yours which you believed, but of which you could not be

certain? Why have you not frankly spoken of it as a fact, which many knew

of and of which some in a position to know, repeatedly informed you?"

"Because no one ever did so inform me," Agathemer answered, "they merely

dropped hints, mostly hints, unnoticed by themselves, unintentionally

dropped by them, and uncertainly pieced together by me. While Commodus was

alive each of my informants, however fond of me, however under obligations

to me, however anticipative of profit from me, however eager to curry

favor with me, yet had vividly before him the dread of death, of death

with torture, if any disloyalty of his, any dereliction in deed, word or

thought, came to the notice of Commodus or Laetus or Eclectus, or if any

one of them came to harbor any suspicion of him. All were vague, guarded,

indefinite, cautious.

"Since midnight all that has changed. None fears any retribution for

blabbing; all feel an overmastering urge towards confiding in some one.

The three who, each unknown to the others, have resorted to me, told me

unreckonably more than I previously conjectured. I comprehend the entire

situation, now."

"If so," I said, "make me comprehend it. I do not. How could Furfur be

coerced or persuaded to such an imposture? How could he be domiciled in

the Palace along with Marcia and Commodus and the deception maintained?

How could the three personally endure or even sustain the difficulties of

the situation?"

"It all hinged," Agathemer explained, "on the fact that Furfur was

insanely in love with Marcia, that Marcia hated and loathed him and that

Commodus realized how each felt to the other. He was so sure of Marcia's

detestation of Furfur that he was never jealous of him, so sure of

Furfur's complete subserviency to Marcia that he never feared betrayal by

him. Actually, from what I hear, Furfur complied as he did partly from

loyalty to Commodus, partly from fear of him, partly, perhaps, from a sort

of relish for his risky impersonation, but chiefly because he was wax in

Marcia's hands; as, indeed, was every man who came within reach of her

fascinations. Does that explain it?"

"Enough," I agreed. "Perhaps as far as it can or could be explained."

"The main thing," said Agathemer, "is that Commodus is dead."

"I should be pleased to hear that," I said, "and I am and I thank you.

But, somehow, I am unable to think of myself. Uppermost in my mind is the

thought of the dead autocrat, of his unlimited power, of his inability to

surround himself with trustworthy dependents, and of all you have had

hinted to you and, even to-night, told you. In such a world, who can

consider himself safe?"

Agathemer looked piqued.

"I reckoned," he said, "that you would feel, if not safe, at least less

unsafe upon hearing my announcement."

"I do," said I, "for, under any other Prince, I should be less in danger,

and, when we learn who is chosen Emperor, it may turn out that I have some

chance of rehabilitation."

"Laetus and Eclectus," said Agathemer, "have decided to make Pertinax

Emperor. When my informer left the Palace they had already set off to find

Pertinax, presumably at his home, and offer him the Principate."

"That," I gloried, "is truly good news. I knew him as a young noble knows

many an older senator: he may remember me. He should have nothing against

me. You raise my hopes high!"

"By all means be hopeful and cheerful," said Agathemer, "but stick to your

present disguise and continue your present way of life until we are sure.

Do not be rash."

We consulted further and he said:

"I'll keep away from you except when it seems imperative to talk with you.

I shall not send any more letters than I must. Do not write to me. If you

must see me, it will be safe to come to Orontides' shop, as Falco is

continually sending you there about gems. You can nod to me without any

uttered word and I'll then come here as soon as may be."

He left just as dawn brightened into full day.

Among the first proclamations of our new Emperor was one expressly

abolishing the court for prosecuting accusations for infringement of the

Imperial Majesty by incautious words or inadvertent acts and at the same

time decreeing the recall of every living exile banished for such

transgressions; also specifically rehabilitating the memory of all persons

who had been under Commodus, put to death on the pretext of this sort of

guilt. Before the end of the day on which this decree was promulgated I

received a letter from Agathemer in which he wrote:

"Beware! Keep close. Already it is rumored that exceptions to this

decree have been made. Marcia is still alive, is married to Eclectus,

and Eclectus is confirmed as Palace Chamberlain. With Marcia close to

the Emperor you are not safe, no matter who is Emperor. Keep close!"

I followed his advice, which was easy for me to do, as I was very

comfortable and well habituated to my life. Moreover I was buoyed up with

hope of early rehabilitation and of then marrying Vedia, who sent me one

cautiously worded note, congratulating me on the disappearance of my most

dangerous foeman, warning me that I still had formidable enemies alive and

in high places, and begging me to be prudent. She reiterated her

expressions of love, devotion and fidelity.

From Tanno also I received a letter warning me to be on guard and to

efface myself as much as possible.

Falco, who had loathed Commodus, but had been careful to keep a still

tongue on all matters except horse-racing, sword-play, social pleasures

and gem-collecting, was much relieved at his death, and heartily delighted

with his successor. He took pains to be present among the auditors of

Pertinax whenever nobles were admitted along with the senators to listen

to his addresses, which was almost always. He took to heart the new

Emperor's adjurations as to economy and his invectives against the evils

of speculative enterprises of all kinds. Over our wine after dinner, when

we two dined alone together, much as Agathemer and I had when I was my

former self, he unbosomed himself to me.

"Pertinax is right," he averred, "there is a real difference between

enterprises which enrich only the participants and those which, while

profiting their promoters, also add to the wealth of the Republic. I

applaud his distinction between the two. I agree with him that wealthy men

like me should invest their capital in nothing which does not benefit

mankind as well as themselves. I have realized with a shock of shame that

my greed for cash to spend on jewels has led me to embark in ventures

which merely divert into my coffers the proceeds of other men's efforts,

without adding anything to the sum-total of usable wealth. I mean to

withdraw from all such monetary acrobatics and utilize my surplus in

extending my estates, in buying others, in cattle-breeding, sheep-raising,

goat-herding, and in the cultivation of olives, vines, and other such

remunerative growths, along with wheat-farming. Thus I will add to the

resources of the Republic, while increasing my own cash income.

"Our conscientious Prince is equally correct in exhorting us to eschew all

frivolities. I'll buy no more gems. Nay, I'll auction my collection, as

soon as Rome recovers its calm and purchasers are as eager as last year.

I'll invest the proceeds in productive enterprise. Thus, as Pertinax says,

I shall be a more useful citizen and an even happier man."

Actually he at once initiated his arrangements for closing out the

speculative ventures which he controlled and for withdrawing from those in

which he participated. And he bought no more gems, though he talked gems

as much as previously, or even more, and took great pride in showing

visitors over his collection or in conning his treasures in company with

me or even entirely alone by himself.

His enthusiasm for Pertinax grew warmer day by day and he talked of him,

praising him, lauded him, prophesied for him great things and from him

great benefits to the Republic and the Empire.

The alleged conspiracy against Pertinax of Consul Sosius Falco and his

disgrace and relegation to his estates was a great shock to my master.

That his cousin should plot against the Prince of our Republic, or lay

himself open to accusation of such plotting, appeared to him hideous and

shameful. He felt disgraced himself, as bearing the same family name. He

gloomed and mourned over the matter.

The murder of Pertinax, by his own guards, on the fifth day before the

Kalends of April, when he had been less than three months Emperor, was

even a more violent shock to Falco, who was crushed with horror at such a

crime. He was even more horrified at the arrogance of the guilty

Praetorians and at their shameless effrontery in offering the Imperial

Purple to the highest bidder and in, practically, selling the Principiate

to so bestial a Midas as Didius Julianus, who, of all the senators, seemed

most to misbecome the Imperial Dignity and who had nothing to recommend

him except his opulence.

During the days of rioting which followed the murder of Pertinax we,

naturally, kept indoors. When the disorders abated and the streets of Rome

resumed their normal activities, Falco continued to remain at home. I

expostulated with him, but he appeared, suddenly, a changed man, as if

dazed and stunned by recent events. He, who had been continually on the

go, living in a round of social pleasures, became averse to much of what

he had before revelled in. My most ingenious pleadings were required to

induce him to go to the Public Baths, which fashionable clubhouses he had

frequented every afternoon from his first arrival at Rome. Until the death

of Pertinax he had only very occasionally dined alone with me: nearly

every day he went out to a formal dinner or entertained a large batch of

guests at a lavish banquet. After Pertinax's murder he began to refuse

invitations to dine and he gave fewer dinners. He spent a great deal of

his time with his lawyers and accountants and went over the affairs of his

African estates, minutely, one by one and all of them. He made a new will

and told me of it.

"Phorbas," he said, "I am troubled with forebodings. I have never thought

of death until recently, except as of something far off and to be

considered much later: since the murder of our good Emperor I think of it

continually. If I live long enough to see normal conditions restored I

shall follow the suggestions given to me by the addresses of Pertinax and

shall auction my gems. Meanwhile I dread that I may not live to do so.

Therefore I have made a will leaving my entire collection to you. I hereby

enjoin you, should you come into possession of them, to sell the gems at

auction, as soon as you see fit, and to invest the proceeds in enterprises

which shall add to the wealth of the Republic. This bequest is a trust.

Besides I have, as in former wills, bequeathed to you your freedom, and a

legacy sufficient to make you comfortable for life. Moreover I have made

you the heir of one-fourth of my estate, what remains of it after the gem

collections is yours and all specific legacies are paid. I do not love my

nephews and cousins and have bequeathed to them more than they deserve; as

to the toadies who have hung about me and fawned on me in the hope of

legacies, I despise them all. You are my best friend and chief heir."

I thanked him effusively and was so much affected that I myself began to

have uncomfortable, vague forebodings. Agathemer happened to visit me and

I confided to him the contents of my old leather amulet-bag. Of course I

had not worn it since I began life with Falco, as a greasy old amulet-bag

of the meanest material and pattern was wholly out of keeping with the

character I had assumed. I wore instead a flat locket of pure gold,

containing a talisman from the Pontic fastnesses. I had kept my share of

our mountain trove of stolen jewels, not needing to part with any after

Falco bought me and unconcerned for the gems, as I now needed no such

store of savings. Now, suddenly, I felt uneasy about myself, my future and

my possessions. These jewels I therefore placed in Agathemer's keeping,

sure that they would be safer with him than with me and certain that he

could realize on them quickly and transmit to me promptly whatever sums I

might need.

I did all I could to rouse Falco from his lethargy and succeeded to some

extent. But, all through April and May, he went out little, accepted few

invitations and gave few dinners. Much of his time he spent among his

jewels, conning them, handling them, taking curios from their cases and,

as it were, caressing them. The rooms which held them were on the left

hand side of the peristyle on the upper floor, across the court from my

apartment and not precisely opposite it. There were three rooms; the

larger with a door on the gallery, and a smaller on either side of it,

opening from it and lit by windows towards the gallery. Each room had a

marble table in the middle, small and round in both side cabinets,

rectangular and large in the main room. Each of the three rooms was walled

with cases and shelves; on the shelves were displayed his larger curios,

vases, cameos, intaglios, plaques, murrhine bowls and such like; in the

cases were necklaces, bracelets, rings, seals and trays of unset gems of

all sorts and sizes. Here Falco spent hours each day, gloating over his

treasures.

"Phorbas," he said, "I am resolute never to buy another gem, equally

resolute to auction all I have whenever conditions make a profitable sale

probable. Yet, although I feel that I shall never live to see them

auctioned, the very thought of parting with them cuts me to the quick. I

am almost in tears to think of it. I love every piece I own. I hate to

think I must either live to see them sold or die and leave them. I cannot

be with them enough of my time. I could spend all my waking hours enjoying

their loveliness and my luck in owning them."

I thought this condition of mind positively unhealthy and consulted Galen.

"You are right," he said, "and you are wrong too. Your master is badly

shaken by the horrors of this appalling year, but he is not deranged nor,

at this present time, in any more danger of derangement than most of the

senators and nobles with whom he associates. Yet you are correct in being

uneasy. Don't antagonize him, but do all you can, tactfully and

unobtrusively, to keep him away from those jewels and to get him out to

the Baths of Titus or to dinners. Do your utmost to induce him to

entertain. A jolly dinner with a bevy of jovial guests will be the very

medicine for him."

Had I been a Greek I could not have been, more wily or more successful. He

spent less time with his gems, went out to the Baths oftener, accepted

some dinner invitations and gave a few dinners. He even took some interest

in preparing for these and in giving orders about them. He had five

complete sets of silverware for his _triclinium_ and had a fancy for using

this or that set, according to the characters of his prospective guests.

Early in May he had invited a carefully selected company of concordant

guests, three senators and the rest nobles like himself, and was

anticipating a delightful evening. He had bidden me to see to the

selection of the flowers for decorating the _triclinium_, for the

garlands, and for sprinkling on the floor; to choose the wines I thought

would be most appropriate and to have brought out and used his most prized

set of silver, the work of Corinnos of Rhodes, embossed with scenes from

Ovid's Metamorphoses and acclaimed one of the finest services in Rome.

Besides the two tall mixing-bowls for tempering the wine before serving

it, the set had four smaller ones, about the size of well-buckets, and

much like them, for each was provided with two hinged handles, just like a

water-pail. I saw to the polishing of every piece in this magnificent

service, to their proper disposal, to the decoration of the _triclinium_

with flowers, verified the wines I had chosen, inspected every detail of

the preparations for the feast, and, just before the first guest might be

expected to arrive, went out and back into the kitchen to make sure that

every dish of each course was being properly prepared and that nothing

would be lacking.

When I returned to the _triclinium_ I found it swept clean of silver,

except the two big wine mixers. The four two-handled pails were gone and

with them the salt-cellars, the wine strainers, every soup-spoon, every

oyster-spoon, in fact every small piece, to the last. The thieves must

have been deft, agile and keen, for nothing was overset or disturbed and I

had heard no noise.

I rushed to the house-door, found it ajar and, each sleeping in his cell,

on the one side the snoring janitor, on the other our fat, pursy, overfed

watchdog.

I omit my hasty measures for pursuing the thieves and attempting their

capture or at least the recovery of their booty; and my urgent and

important efforts to arrange that our guests should be properly received

and the dinner should not be spoiled. Towards this last I did what could

be done and with fair success, Falco playing up to my suggestions and

dissimulating his chagrin.

More important to record was his amazing indifference to his loss. Not

that he did not feel it acutely, but that he seemed to feel no proper

indignation against those at fault.

He questioned the janitor and all the slaves concerned, but instead of

ordering scourged the two servitors whom I had left in the _triclinium_

when I went out of it to visit the kitchen and who should have remained

there until my return, he merely reprimanded them mildly. He did not so

much as have the undutiful janitor flogged, let alone sent away for sale.

He even laughed at the luck, alertness, dexterity and swiftness of the

thieves; picturing their glance into the unshut door, their glances up and

down the street, their eyeings of the watchdog and janitor, their

noiseless dash into the atrium, their invasion of the _triclinium_, their

gathering of the smaller pieces into the four handled wine-mixers, and

their escape, each with two silver pails stuffed with goblets, salt-

cellars, and bowls and, brimming with strainers, spoons and other small

pieces.

He commented on their luck in not encountering any of his approaching

guests.

"Mercury," he said, "to whom you chiefly pray, must have been good to

them, as his votaries."

I was horrified at the levity of his attitude of mind. When we were alone

I remonstrated with him, saying that such leniency was certain to

demoralize his household; would ruin any set of slaves. I told him that

his retention of the janitor after Agathemer's unnoticed entrance on the

first day of the year was bad enough, far worse was it to condone a second

lapse, and that having had consequences so serious. I expostulated that it

was madness to entrust his housedoor to a watchman already twice caught

asleep at his post. I reminded him of the cash value of his gem-collection

and of its value in his eyes, not to be reckoned in cash. He listened

indulgently and said:

"I thank you, Phorbas. All you say is true. And, any time last year, I

should have sold that janitor without a thought, after your information

against him last January. But, somehow, since the murder of Commodus, yet

more since the murder of Pertinax, I seem less prone to severity and more

inclined to mercy. The waiter-boys deserve flogging, but I cannot harden

my heart and order it. The janitor merits being sold without a character,

after a severe scourging; yet I feel for him, too. I'll give him another

chance."

I could not move him.

I again consulted Galen:

"You are right!" he exclaimed. "A Roman nobleman who hesitates to have his

slaves flogged or sold and merely reprimands them, is certainly deranged.

Any natural Roman would insist on scourgings and even severer punishments,

But his eccentricity is not dangerous to him or anybody as yet. Humor him,

do not oppose his worship of his treasures, but entice him away from them

all you can by devices he does not suspect.

"And let me add, keep away from me, for your own sake. Keep away from

Vedia and Tanno and Agathemer. Do not write letters. True, Julianus has

put Marcia to death and you are rid of a pertinacious and alert enemy. But

he has recalled into favor most of the professional informers who

flourished under Commodus and they are on the watch for victims to win

them praise and rewards. Several of the exiles recalled by Pertinax have

been rearrested and re-banished or even executed since Julianus came into

power. Keep close and beware!"

CHAPTER XXXVII

ACCUSATION

The murder or assassination or execution of Julianus on the Kalends of

June shocked Falco even more than the deaths of Commodus and Pertinax. As

the June days passed I had to exercise my greatest adroitness to keep him

from spending all his waking hours indoors, chiefly in moping about his

collection of gems. I did pretty well with him, for I wheedled him into

going to the Baths of Titus three afternoons out of four, into going out

to dine one evening in three, and I even induced him to give several

formal dinners, each of which was a great success.

But, if I left him to himself, I invariably found him glooming over the

gems which no longer gave him any real pleasure. And I could not blame

him. Indoors one felt reasonably safe in Rome that June, for no residences

had been broken into anywhere in the city, though many shops had been

looted and some burnt. But, in the streets, the insolence of the

Praetorians was unendurable and their unbridled license and arrogance

terrorized the entire population, especially the upper classes. Going

anywhere in broad daylight was dangerous, even going to the Baths of Titus

from the Esquiline was risky. Anyone like Falco was certain to feel safer

indoors. And the tense uncertainty of those twenty-four days made

everybody restless, feverish, fidgety and morose: civil war between

Severus and Pescennius Niger, lord of the East, was inevitable. How

Clodius Albinus, in control of Gaul, Spain and Britain, would act, was

problematical. We were all keyed-up, apprehensive and wretched.