THE STRANGE WOMAN
Caesar left Capri and roved along the Italian coast in his splendid
barges, or approached by land close to Rome, even to spend the night
just without her walls, or in Tusculum, Ostia, Antium or Baiae. He
dragged his court with him, by this time deserted of all upright men,
and circling, slinking, making sorties and retiring, he brought up at
last in the villa of Lucullus on Misenum with all his unclean party.
Macro in attendance upon Caesar had left a tribune in Rome as a post of
despatch from which necessary information could be communicated to the
prefect in Misenum. The tribune, a sour old praetorian, with more
integrity than graciousness, charged to protect Agrippa's interests for
Macro's sake, now that Caligula was prince imperial, was empowered with
not a little of the prefect's authority, which he administered with a
kind of slavish awe of it.
So, when a young Alexandrian Jew, giving the name of Justin Classicus,
bearing a letter of introduction from the Proconsul of Egypt, applied
for a tessera which would give him admission to Misenum, the tribune
refused, declaring that the visitor must be indorsed by a Roman of rank
and in good odor with the emperor. Classicus took his departure,
assuring the tribune that he would go to Baiae where young Tiberius
lived in his father's villa, and get the indorsement of the lad, to
whom Flaccus was notedly a partizan.
As soon as Classicus had departed, the tribune rushed a messenger to
Marsyas, with Macro's signet which would command horses at posts
between Rome and Misenum, and informed the young man what menaced the
Herod.
Marsyas did not tarry for preparation. He knew that Classicus would go
by the common route, by sea from Ostia, and that the overland route was
only, by the luckiest of circumstances, the speedier.
Before the messenger had returned to the tribune, Marsyas was on the
road to Misenum.
A day later, he passed the picket thrown out a hundred paces from the
actual precincts of the villa of Lucullus, but when he offered his
tessera to the praetorian posted at its inner walls, the soldier did not
lower his short sword. Marsyas, who had come to know many of the
praetorians, looked in surprise at the man.
"Turn back, good sir," the man said. "None enters the lines to-day."
While he knew that it was useless to ask the sentinel why the arbitrary
order was in force, the question leaped to his lips before he could
stop it. His voice was eager.
"What passeth within?"
The soldier shook his head. Marsyas drew away a space and thought. He
knew that the little Tiberius was an exception to every law laid down
by Caesar; Classicus could not have armed himself with a more potent
name. Caligula's friends, even Macro's friends, might be barred, not
the friends of the little beloved Tiberius.
The obstruction was dangerous.
He knew that he had to deal with Classicus.
The bitterness in his heart rose up and smothered his distress: for the
moment he lost sight of Agrippa's peril, his hope against Saul of
Tarsus and his fear for Lydia, in the all-overwhelming rancor against
the man who was setting foot upon all the purposes in the young
Essene's life.
While he stood wrestling with a mighty impulse to kill Classicus, a
courier in a well-known livery bowed beside him.
"The Lady Junia sends thee greeting and would see thee in her father's
house."
Marsyas turned readily and followed the servant.
He had come to look upon the Roman woman as a counselor, of whom he had
some serviceable ideas out of the many he had not adopted. He knew
that if he crossed her threshold to find distressing tidings within, he
was sure of finding an attempt at alleviation at the same time. He
might come forth vexed with all his friends, hating more hotly his
enemies, but less amazed at sin in general. He had not learned to
apologize for the world, nor even to believe in it; he had simply come
to accept it as a necessary and irremediable evil. The general
condemnation of his skepticism had not left her untouched, but he felt,
nevertheless, that no one was so bad that another much worse could not
be found. Junia, therefore, occupied a position of lesser blame. She
was charitable and amiable, and whatever she had done that failed to
measure up to his Jewish standard of virtue had been overshadowed by
her usefulness.
He was led toward a little inclosure of lattice-work and vines on the
summit of a knoll, from which the imperial demesnes were visible.
Between the screen and the brink of the eminence was earth enough for
the foothold of an olive, and its dark crown reached over and shaded
the space within. There was a single marble exedra with feet and arms
of carven claws, and through the interstices of the vinery and the
farther shade and foliage of the new spring, the insula of Euodus arose
white and graceful. The sunshine lay in brilliant mosaics over the
thick sod, and above, lozenges of blue showed where the light had
entrance. The breeze from the warm bay went soft-footed through the
trees, and for the moment Marsyas felt that all the friendliness which
the world held for him had been caught and pent in the little garden.
Junia was there, luxuriously bestowed in the cushions of the stone
seat. She made room for him beside her, but he took one of the pillows
and, dropping it on the grass, sat at her feet.
He looked at her with expectancy in his eyes.
"O my Junia," he said, "why dost thou wear that eager, uninformed look,
as if thou wouldst say, 'Tell me quickly what news thou hast!' when
thou knowest invariably I bring no cheer!"
"Hear him!" she cried. "Shall I look thus: 'Here comes Marsyas,
bearing evil tidings and craving comfort, for he does not care for me
except when I may do something for him?'"
"Of a truth, dost thou not say that in thy heart?" he insisted.
"No! I say this: 'Yonder young man is much in debt to me, but my
requital when I ask it will be equal to his debt.' Wherefore, I shall
serve on till the sum is equal."
"Thou speakest truly when thou sayest I am in debt to thee, but if thou
hast in thy heart something which thou wouldst have me do, command me
now!"
"Perchance when I see what brought thee to Misenum, to-day," she smiled.
"If thou canst help me, Junia, I shall owe thee a life!"
"Thy life, Marsyas?"
"No; Agrippa's--or the life of Justin Classicus!"
"How now!" she cried, and there was more genuine interest in her soft
voice than she had previously shown. "What hath stirred thee against
Classicus?"
At that moment an indistinct shout of great volume, as of many men
cheering behind walls, interrupted him. He turned his head quickly in
the direction of the palace.
"What passeth within?" he asked; "why will they not admit me?"
"Nothing, nothing," she said hurriedly, "or at least only an important
ceremony which none but Caesar can perform; Macro does not wish him to
be interrupted. Go on with thy story!"
"Flaccus hath sent a messenger to the emperor--a messenger that
commands the favor of the little Prince Tiberius."
"Who told thee?" she asked.
"Well?" she inquired.
He studied the look on her face and felt that it was strangely composed
for the assumed eagerness in her voice.
"The tribune refused him the tessera which he must have to approach the
emperor's abode, and required that he produce the indorsement of some
notable Roman before he return again. The messenger went away boasting
that he would get it of the little Tiberius."
"He will!" she assented, "for little Tiberius is not on the promontory
to-day, and the sentries without dare not refuse the lad's signet!"
Marsyas frowned and looked down: he was perplexed that she did not help.
"Is there no way to shut him out of Misenum?" he asked.
"Caesar's passport is as much a command as Caesar's denial--when the
little Tiberius delivers it," she repeated.
"But can I not reach Macro?"
"No," she said decisively. "Macro's powers pale before the lad's."
Was she at the end of her ingenuity, or her willingness, he asked
himself.
"He will get to the emperor, then, if he start?" His desperation grew
under the lady's easy irony.
"Unless thou or some other of Agrippa's friends disable him permanently
with a bodkin, or a storm deliver him up to the Nereids."
Marsyas' hands clenched: he moved as if to rise, but she slipped her
hands through the bend of his elbow and let them retard him, more by
their presence than by actual strength.
"Is there something thou canst do?" he asked.
She hesitated; something seemed to fill her eyes; her lids quivered and
dropped; speech trembled on her lips, but the momentary impulse passed.
After a little silence, she lifted her eyes, composed once more.
"I told thee, once upon a time," she said, "of the world. I have
counseled with thee for thine own good, and sometimes thou didst heed
me, but on the greater number of occasions thou hast chosen for
thyself. What hast thou won from thy long battle for the stern
purposes which have engaged thee? What hast thou achieved in
controlling this Herod, or in working against Saul of Tarsus? What?"
He frowned and looked away.
"Nothing," she answered, "save thou hast gathered perils around thee,
forced thyself into sterner deeds, and there--"
She laid a pink finger-tip between his eyes.
"--there is a blight on thy comeliness."
"Dost thou urge me to give over mine efforts? If so, speak, that I may
tell thee I can not obey!" he declared.
"No? Not even if thy work maketh another unhappy--whom thou wouldst
not have to be unhappy?"
He looked at her: did she mean Lydia? Or was she concerned for
Classicus?
"Art thou defending Classicus?" he asked.
"Nay," she smiled, "but I defend myself!"
This was puzzling, and at best irrelevant. He had come, burdened with
trouble and concern for Agrippa's life, and she was leading away into
less serious things. It was not like her to be capricious. Perhaps
there was more in her meaning than he had grasped.
"I pray thee," she continued, "mingle a little sweet with thy toil!"
He arose and moved away from her.
"O Junia, how can I?" he demanded impatiently.
"Nay, but I am asking payment of the debt thou confessest to me!"
"Help me yet in this danger of Classicus, and I shall be thy slave!"
She arose and approached very close to him. Her face was flushing, her
hands were outstretched. He took them because they were offered.
"Marsyas," she whispered, her brilliant eyes searching his face, "I
shall not cease to be thy confederate, but I would be more!"
With a little wrench she freed her hands from his and drew a packet
from the folds of silk over her breast.
"See! I have here thy letter, which Herod brought and bitterly
reproached me for mine enchantment of thee. And I kept it, till this
hour!"
She put into his hands the scorched and broken letter that he had
written to Lydia and had believed that he had destroyed so long before.
While he looked at it, stupefied with astonishment, she slipped her
arms about his neck.
"I do not ask thee to marry me," she whispered, a little laugh rippling
her breath. "Eros does not summon the law to make his sway effective.
For thou art an Essene, by repute, and no man need surrender his
reputation for his character. Wherefore, though ten thousand dread
penalties bound thee to celibacy, they do not dull thine eyes nor make
thy cheeks less crimson! Be an Essene, or a Jew, Caesar or a
slave--that can not alter thy charm! And I shall not quibble, so thou
lovest me!"
Marsyas stood still while he searched her changing face. It was not a
new experience for him who had brought picturesque beauty into Rome,
but the source was different, the result more grave. On this occasion
the seductive enumeration of his good looks awakened in him something
which was affronted; whatever thing it was, it possessed an
intelligence which comprehended before his brain grew furious, and,
flinging itself upon his soul, buffeted it into sensitiveness.
With a rush of rage, he understood all that her act had accomplished
for him.
The world of helplessly-impelled children that she had pictured to him,
the world of innocence and forgivable inclinations, little warfares and
artless badness, play or the feeding of primitive hungers, or of
building of roof-trees--all that with which she had partly enchanted
him was suddenly stripped of its atmosphere, and the glare of
realities, fierce passions, deadly hates, shamelessness and blood stood
before him. In short, he had been instantly precipitated into his old
Essenic misanthropy now directly imposed upon the heads of individuals,
which before in his solitary days had been heaped without understanding
upon the heads of strangers.
He did care because that the creature had simply betrayed her true
self; more dreadful than that, she had wrested from him the charity his
experience in the world had yielded him--for Lydia!
Blind fury maddened him; her offense called for a fiercer response than
a blush; she had robbed his heart wholly and was burning its empty
house.
He put forth his strength, undid her arms and flung her from him. For
a moment he felt a bloodthirsty desire to follow her up and break her
over the stone exedra, but remnants of reason prevailed.
Springing through the exit, he was gone without uttering a word in
answer to her.
Junia heard the last of his footsteps on the flagging leading out of
her father's grounds, and for a moment wavered between screaming for
her own slaves to pursue him, or delivering him up to the praetorian
guards.
"For what?" Discretion asked. "To have him tell, under torture, thy
part in sheltering Agrippa? At thy peril!"
But he had flung her away; he had rejected her; he had escaped after
all her pains, her pretensions, her plans! For him, she had left
Alexandria and endured Caesar. For him, she had forgone seasons of
conquest in Rome! For him, she had neglected Caligula, and now
Caligula would be emperor. For him she had sacrificed everything and
had lost, at last. He, a Jew, a manumitted slave, a barbarian! She, a
favorite of emperors and consuls, a manipulator of affairs, fortunes
and families! And he had rejected her!
There were muffled flying footsteps on the sod without, and Caligula,
pallid and moist with terrified perspiration, dashed into the inclosure
as if seeking a place to hide.
When he saw her, he sprang back, but halted, on recognizing her.
"Ate and the Furies!" he said in a strained whisper. "What hath
happened but that Caesar revived while the guards were hailing me as
Imperator!"
A hater of pork, a wearer of gowns, a mutterer of prayers, a bearded
clown of a rustic! And she, it was, whom he had rejected!
"Stand like a frozen pigeon!" Caligula hissed, "while I tell thee of my
death! He knew what the shouts meant! He showed his teeth like a
panther, transfixed me with his dead eyes and signed for wine! When he
hath strength enough to order it, and breath enough to form the words--"
And she had not urged the Herod's death for his sake, and thereby
imperiled her own living with Flaccus; she had sent him a passport to
Capri and one to Misenum, and rescued him from the admiring eyes of
other women, to make sure of him--and he had flung her away, at last!
"He will starve me to death: drown me in the Mamertine!" Caligula raged
under his breath. "Starve me, I say! Speak, corpse! What shall I do!"
Her rage by this time had so filled her that it meant to have
expression or have her life.
"Kill him!" she hissed through her teeth.
It was Marsyas' sentence, but it fell upon Tiberius.
Caligula ceased to tremble and stared at her with a strange look in his
bird-like eyes.
"How?" he asked.
She seized one of the pillows and brought it down over the seat of the
divan, and held it firmly as if to prevent it from being thrown off.
"Thus!" she said venomously.
"But the nurses and Charicles, the physician," Caligula protested,
fearing nevertheless that his protest might hold good.
"Put them out! Will they dare resist the coming emperor? Have Macro
aid thee, so he dare not tell upon thee."
She was becoming cool. It would be good to vent her murderous impulses
on something. Caligula gazed at her with fascination in his face.
"Come, then, thou, and see it done! Neither shalt thou talk," he said
suddenly.
She stepped to his side, but before she reached the exit of the
inclosure, she stopped and looked squarely into his eyes.
"Herod hath a slave who hath wronged me," she said.
"Which one?" he demanded.
"The Essene!"
"Nay, take vengeance on some other, then, for He is my friend! I have
vowed him favor!"
"Why?" she demanded.
"Nay; do not stop--thou art to see this thing done! Why do I promise
the Essene favor? Because, forsooth, he made an emperor of me! Come!"