All this time the wily Barbillus had not been idle. He knew too well
the whole meaning of a _wish_ of Domitian's, particularly when the wish
was expressed in such a manner, as his desire to conquer Cornelia had
been. Besides, the priest had only too much reason to fear the Emperor,
in relation to his high pretensions to prophetic powers. More than once
had Domitian shown his aversion to Chaldaeans, mathematicians, and
seers generally, and had banished them from Rome by special edicts.
These edicts might at any moment be turned against Barbillus, even
though he also officiated as the priest of a tolerated faith, and
hitherto had had no cause to dread his imperial patron, whom he had
found means to amuse and manage. Again, and above all, his vanity was
at stake; he felt the failure of the elaborately-contrived mummery as
personally humiliating, and longed to purge himself of the charge of
clumsiness in the Emperor’s eyes.
On the following day, therefore, he set to work again, and began to
reconnoitre the ground. His spies, under a variety of excuses, made
their way into Cornelius' house, eavesdropping and bribing the slaves.
Now as a Syrian yarn-seller, now as a shipwrecked sailor humbly praying
the ostiarius to admit him to shelter, or as a dealer in Egyptian
charms--one or another of the indefatigable Oriental’s tools contrived
to see and hear something, without their presence being thought strange
in a house where so many came and went. Thus Barbillus learned many
details as to Cornelia’s habits and mode of life, which might possibly
prove of use, though he did not as yet see the connection they would
have with his schemes.
However, the results of this system of espionage seemed more tangibly
satisfactory when, on the second day after beginning operations, there
was put into his hands the note which Caius Aurelius had written and
left on the occasion of his nocturnal visit.
The slave-girl, who had not parted with it for anything less than gold,
declared that she had plainly seen and heard Cornelia, when she took
it from the Batavian and promised to deliver it to her uncle. Since
it could hardly be doubted that it was a precautionary warning from a
fellow-conspirator, it would not be difficult to make it appear that
Cornelia must be a party to the plot. To an unprejudiced judge, it was
indeed self-evident that Cornelia had no suspicion of the importance
of this bit of writing; otherwise she would have taken better care of
it, and would not have been so foolish as to leave it lying by the
lamp when she went to bed. But all that Barbillus wanted was some valid
excuse for a hold over the young girl.
When the note was put into his hands, the day was already waning. It
was that same eventful day when, in the morning, the Batavian had so
happily escaped, and at night the Christians were doomed to surprise
and seizure. Barbillus decided not to waste an instant; he hurried off
to the chamberlain’s house, where, after some ceremony on the part of
the servants, he succeeded in gaining admission.
The courtier was entertaining a highly select circle. They had just
risen from a magnificent supper, and he had conducted his guests into
a handsomely-decorated room, where a variety of entertainments were
provided for them. Some, heated with their potations of fine wines,
went out into the cooler air of the peristyle; among these were
Parthenius himself and Clodianus, who stood eagerly talking to the
master of the feast.
“Come--let us talk no more of business;” said Parthenius, half in
earnest and half in jest, when Clodianus paused for a moment. “I assure
you, my noble friend, I am almost overwhelmed when I think of the work
before us. I am half afraid, that with all these arrests we have loaded
ourselves with a burden that we can hardly carry.”
“Why?” asked the adjutant coolly.
“Only think! the flower of the Senate and the Knights! It will hardly
be wise to punish so many and such illustrious captives with death.
Merely to banish them would be to endanger the Caesar’s power....”
“Then keep them in prison till further notice.”
“That will not do either. Do you suppose then, that their relations
and friends would sit with their hands before them? It would be putting
a dangerous weapon into the enemy’s hands.”
“Really, Parthenius, you talk as if the throne were already tottering.
What can the anger of the accused, or the disaffection of their allies
matter to us? Is not the Palatium strong enough? Are not our soldiers
faithful? Is not Caesar one with all the true feelings of his people?”
“Again I say, put off all serious discussion till to-morrow,” replied
the chamberlain, offering his hand to the adjutant. “The duties of a
host now claim my attention....”
At this moment a servant led the way for a priest of Isis.
“My lord,” said Barbillus, bowing, “I have come on the business you
know of. Caesar commissioned me....”
“Ah! now I recognize you!” exclaimed Parthenius after looking at
him closely for a moment. “You are Barbillus, the stage-manager and
prompter at the Temple of Isis. Charmed, by the gods, I am sure!”
Barbillus, who was not particularly pleased at this reception, looked
down in embarrassment. He did not know whether to take up a jesting
tone in reply, or to try to be dignified and haughty; so as to impress
the adjutant, at any rate, even if it were impossible with the
chamberlain, who was cognizant of his miserable failure.
“Do you recollect,” continued Parthenius, turning to Clodianus with a
meaning glance, “that charming creature, whose coarse-fisted slave had
the audacity....”
“To be sure. Caesar told me of that wonderful intrigue. I always used
to be his right-hand man in such little affairs.”
“Then you know the lovely joke about the mask of Osiris?”
“Of course. But let this man speak; he is evidently in a hurry.”
“You are right,” said Barbillus with dignified calm. “In spite of
the inconvenient hour I have ventured to disturb the illustrious
Parthenius, in order to inform him that I have found the ways and
means....”
“My friend,” interrupted the chamberlain, “I see there my friend
Latinus, the actor, who is looking anxiously for me. Every second of my
time is precious. Clodianus, would you have the kindness to hear what
this worthy priest has to say, and in case of need to give him your
always valuable advice. Then, when my actors have done, you can tell me
what he proposes. And at any rate, Barbillus, if your plans should not
necessitate immediate action, pray remain as my guest.”
He waved a polite hand and turned away with a light step. Clodianus
drew the priest a little on one side.
“Now,” he said: “What is your news?”
“My lord,” said Barbillus, “to begin at the beginning, it would seem
that you too know of the commission with which Caesar has honored me.
I am to make up for that little mishap the other evening. Well, I
have discovered how to solve the problem; this note, if judiciously
used, will put the coy damsel entirely in your power--by right of law,
without the slightest exercise or appearance of arbitrary dealing.”
“Show me!”
The priest gave him the note. “Caius Aurelius,” he said, “gave her this
note a few hours before he fled.”
Clodianus read every word slowly and thoughtfully, and muttering to
himself: “The Batavian to the noble Cornelius greeting. There is danger
in delay. Remember Rodumna!”
Then a ray of intelligence lighted up his features, and his eyes
sparkled with sudden fire. Rodumna! as it happened, he knew the
little town, and one of his clients was a native of the place. In
the self-same instant it struck him, that Rodumna was not far from
Lugdunum, and this was like a flash of revelation; Rodumna, of course,
was the head-quarters of the conspirators.--For that a conspiracy
existed, none could doubt after all that had occurred, and Cinna's
well-known connection with Gallia Lugdunensis made the choice of that
province as a base of operations probable on the face of it.
Clodianus breathed hard. His keen wit took in the whole situation at
once. If the contents of this note could be kept secret, if he could
succeed in turning the Emperor’s suspicions in another direction, this
unhoped-for discovery would be of incalculable value. It was but a
point to be sure, but that point might serve as the fulcrum from which
to lift the world off its hinges. If his schemes with Stephanus and the
Empress should fall through, here was a new lever ready to his hand,
and stronger, more reliable, more splendid than the first.
Clodianus made up his mind in an instant. He put on an expression of
almost ferocious gravity.
“Barbillus,” he said with excessive sternness: “You are my prisoner!”
“You are joking!” exclaimed the priest in dismay.
“By no means! This note reveals a secret which, if it became known,
would nullify all the measures taken by the government. Till this
moment, not a soul but Caesar and those in his confidence knew that the
conspirators were to meet at Rodumna. Accident has put you, too, in
possession of the information. I must have you in safe-keeping.”
“That would be an ill return for the zeal I have shown in the matter.”
“I am very sorry, but consideration for you must yield to my care for
the safety of the State. The secret must be kept at any cost. Nothing
but your imprisonment will be a sufficient guarantee. Come into the
house with me, and I will consider where to send you.”
“You are resolved on my ruin!” cried Barbillus in despair. “A priest
of Isis in prison! only consider; my office, my position, my influence
will be utterly lost. Do you suppose, that all these years and in such
a place as mine I have not learnt to hold my tongue? Silence is the
first virtue of a priest.”
The adjutant seemed to waver.
“If I could trust you.--But no. It will not do; I cannot undertake such
a responsibility.”
“You can, you may in all confidence. You may throw me to the wild
beasts, if a rash word ever passes my lips. Only spare me this
irremediable disgrace. I am thought by every matron in Rome to be
specially favored by the goddess. You are destroying my very existence.”
“That would no doubt be a misfortune,” said Clodianus relenting. “Well,
be it so; once more I will be fool enough to be good-natured. But woe
to you, if you abuse my kindness.”
“Thanks, thanks, my lord!” exclaimed Barbillus, raising the crafty
courtier’s hand to his lips.
“The letter itself I will destroy at once,” continued Clodianus.
“Parthenius himself must know nothing of its contents, or he would undo
all my precautions. Swear to be secret by all you hold most sacred.”
“I swear by the precious head of Barbillus,” said the priest, laying
his hand on his heart.
“Very good; now come with me. You must tell the chamberlain some fib.
That you hope to persuade the fair one to yield willingly, or anything
else that comes into your head. I will take care of the rest.”
“Would it not be wise, if we were to discuss the details of the fib? I
am anxious not to blunder, for I have already angered Caesar once.”
“Then go, keep out of it, and leave the whole matter to me. I will let
you know what I have settled in the course of the evening.”
“That will, I think, be the safest plan. My appearing here at so late
an hour might excite suspicion: Farewell, my lord. I will never forget
the grace you have shown your humble servant.”
“The best thanks will be in silence.”
Barbillus took his leave. Clodianus took a few more turns up and down
the colonnade, rubbing his hands with satisfaction; then he returned to
the reception-rooms.
When the extremely witty, but extremely licentious comedy had been
acted to the end, amid the wild laughter of the audience, Parthenius
found time to speak a few words in private with Clodianus. The adjutant
had thought out his scheme and devised a fable, too simple to seem
doubtful, to justify the priest’s unexpected visit.
The lovely Lycoris--who looked more bewitchingly than ever from under
her long lashes--was just coming towards them, with the intention of
thanking their amiable host for the delightful treat he had given them,
and the amusement she had derived from it, and Parthenius was turning
to meet her, when his attention was once more claimed in an opposite
direction. A note from the city-prefect informed him of the escape of
the Batavia and the disaster of the Charybdis. The letter also reported
the most positive information, that the Batavia was bound for Liguria.
This was inferred from the fact, that after that luckless encounter she
took her course northwards rather than to the west. The city-prefect
had sent express messengers to Ostia, that the chase might, if
possible, be renewed immediately.
Clodianus, to whom the chamberlain handed the note with a shrug of
vexation, understood the position at once and took advantage of it. The
city-prefect’s mistake as to the direction the fugitives had taken,
must be confirmed by spurious evidence and by an affectation of entire
conviction, and Parthenius, who was just now very open to persuasion,
must be talked over as soon as possible.
“Of course, it is obvious!” said he, as though to himself. “Savo[81]
or Albium Ingaunum[82] are the only possible spots.--Well planned,
on my word! Their route lies straight there, no islands in the way,
and the vast curve of the coast makes it impossible to head them by
land. From Liguria they will easily reach the Germanic Highlands,
where the Batavian has powerful friends.--I see the whole plot. They
will inveigle Germania and march across northern Italy with their
flaxen-haired mercenaries and down upon the capital.”
“Your keenness is wonderful,” said Parthenius. “To be sure, the whole
thing is as clear as day. But what then, what can I do? The order
for the pursuit has been issued, and I can but approve, though I am
perfectly convinced that it is too late.--Here in Rome one never has
a minute to oneself? Go, slave, tell your master I am obliged to
him.--And now, enchanting Massilian, by Cypria! but if the ship those
conspirators have sailed in had a heart, it would sail straight to
Gaul to meet your sisters in beauty.[83]--Tell me now, what you found
to criticise in our comedy.--I see a curl of Attic irony playing round
your rose-bud lips.”
Lycoris did in fact make a few sarcastic remarks on the piece and the
performers; but from that she went off into harmless chat of such
delightful gaiety and sweetness, that Parthenius could not weary
of listening to her melodious voice or of gazing at her round and
snow-white shoulders. Never before had she seemed to him so perfectly
enchanting; her lips smiled promise and her eyes flashed passion.
Parthenius--a finished connoisseur in all the tricks and graces of the
stage of the time--never suspected that this lavish display of her
charms and fascinating wiles was a branch of the art; that Lycoris was
acting a comedy, and that Stephanus was the manager of the drama.
Stephanus himself, no doubt, was but a puppet in the hands of this
witch, whose ambition aimed at the highest mark that ever dazzled the
fancy of a Roman--at the sceptre of the world.
Stephanus himself was one of the guests, and with him all was _couleur
de rose_. While Lycoris was devoting herself to entangling the
chamberlain, Stephanus was exchanging a few polite phrases with the
adjutant.
“Listen,” said Clodianus in a low voice, as Stephanus turned to
leave him; “I wish to warn you--Cneius Afranius is on the list of
the proscribed, but this in no way prevents Caesar from taking the
opportunity you know of....”
“What!”
“Gently--we are watched. Will you come to see me in the course of the
week? I will let you know the day and hour.--Good; now enjoy yourself,
and of all things trouble yourself last about me--take no notice of me.”
New, and still new surprises, had been provided to entertain the
company. A whole troupe of very slightly-attired dancing-girls from
Gades, with butterfly-wings and floating hair, crowded into the lower
end of the hall, and began their mazy dance. When this was ended, a
shower of rose-scented spray,[84] that fell from above like a fine
mist, cooled the revellers deliciously; and finally soft music invited
the company out into the pleasure-grounds, where a brilliant display of
fireworks turned night into day.
Through all these entertainments, the _blasé_ adjutant made a great
show of enthusiastic enjoyment. He laughed immoderately, he shouted,
he even sang, and praised their liberal and amiable host in a stirring
speech--their host, who, in the midst of his pressing cares and
unresting exertions, could still find time to make a study of amusing
and delighting his friends. He devoted himself to winning the good
graces of a young Greek girl, who had lately come to Rome from the
island of Cypris. He affected a fervent accent, as he called her Cypria
in person; swore by the sanctuary of Paphos[85] that a smile from the
lovely Myrrhina would outweigh for him all the treasures of India, and
quoted the famous line of Catullus:[86] “Let us live, my Lesbia, and
let us love.”
“On my word, that Clodianus is a true son of Epicurus, as he represents
himself in his book!” exclaimed a client of the house, who had modestly
held aloof.
“And no wonder,” retorted another. “Wealth and good fortune are poured
into his lap! His whole life is sunshine. Even the affairs of state
hardly trouble him at all; he has no ambitions--no fears--no anxieties.
He plucks the present[87]--_carpe diem_, as Horace sings, and never for
an instant troubles himself about the future. Who would not change with
him!”
FOOTNOTES:
[81] SAVO. Now Savona on the Riviera.
[82] ALBIUM INGAUNUM. The modern Albenga, south-west of Savona.
[83] IT WOULD SAIL STRAIGHT TO GAUL TO MEET YOUR SISTERS IN BEAUTY.
The women of Marseilles, and especially those belonging to
the neighboring city of Arles, are distinguished even at the
present day for a beauty resembling the type of the Hellenic
ideal of feminine loveliness.
[84] A SHOWER OF ROSE-SCENTED SPRAY. This delicious method of
cooling the air, which was by no means rare in wealthy and
noble houses, was called _sparsio_ (sprinkling). In theatres,
etc. the spectators, on particularly hot days, were cooled by
such _sparsiones_.
[85] PAPHOS (Πάφος more accurately Παλαίπαφος, Old Paphos, to
distinguish it from Πάφος νέα New Paphos) a city of Cyprus, the
principal seat of the worship of Aphrodite. Here the foam-born
goddess was said to have risen from the sea. See Hor. _Od._
I, 36: III, 28 etc.
[86] QUOTED THE FAMOUS LINE OF CATULLUS. See Cat. V, I: _Vivamus,
mea Lesbia, atque amemus!_
[87] HE PLUCKS THE PRESENT. See Hor. _Od._ I, ii, 8. The expression
“he enjoys the present day” is a literal translation of the
“_carpe diem_” used there--just as the phrase: “without
troubling himself about the future” corresponds with Horace's
“_quam minimum credula postero_.”