IN EXTREMIS
Marsyas left the promontory at once. He had hired one of the public
passenger boats to cross from Baiae to Misenum and the boatman had
waited for the return of his fare.
Many went as he was going, but they were patricians singly and in
groups that passed him, with sober faces and without a word to each
other. He recognized senators, aediles, consuls, duumvirs, praetors,
legates all hurrying toward the landing. All noble Misenum seemed
suddenly to have determined on an exodus. An anxious and distressed
company they were, and had Marsyas' own brain been less hot with anger,
he might have meditated on the meaning of it all.
By the time he reached the bay, the sunset-reddened water was covered
with light-running coasters, by the signs on aplustre or vexillum, a
fleet of patrician craft making across the bay to Neapolis, or scudding
for the open sea and Ostia. He saw one or two vessels approaching
Misenum, hailed by departing ones, and, after a colloquy, turned back.
Vaguely wondering whether Caesar's latest whim was to drive his court
from him, Marsyas got into his own highly-painted shell and told his
oarsman to take him across to Baiae.
As he sat at the tiller and moodily watched the Italian night come up
over the sea, the capes, the hill-slopes and finally cover the somber
head of the unsuspected Vesuvius, he was afraid that his long ignored
Essenic rigor would assert itself. He was ashamed of himself, and for
the moment looked upon the life he had led in Rome with revulsion. But
he put off his self-examination with a kind of terror. There was yet
much that was harsh and unlawful to be done, and he dared not hold off
his hand. Lydia's life and good name, the avenging of Stephen,
Agrippa's life and Cypros' happiness were weighed against Classicus and
his own soul in the other balance. He could not hesitate now.
When he set foot in opulent Baiae the night had fallen and with his
return to the city, which he knew sheltered Agrippa's most active enemy
at that hour, all his energies turned toward the purpose that had
originally brought him to Misenum. He believed that if Classicus had
insinuated himself into young Tiberius' favor, doubtless the prince's
hospitality had been extended to him. He turned his steps toward the
range of villas built between Baiae and Puteoli, overlooking the bay.
He had in mind the method of his last resort, and he went as one goes
when desperation carries him forward--swiftly and relentlessly.
But, crossing the town by the water-front, he met a handful of slaves
bearing baggage toward the wharves. With his old Essenic thoroughness
he halted to examine them to make sure that Classicus had not
outstripped him finally. By their particularly fine physique and
diverse nationality Marsyas knew them to be costly slaves of the
familia of no small patrician.
He heard the ramble of chariot-wheels on the lava-paved streets; the
master was following. As the vehicle passed under a lamp a few paces
away, Marsyas distinguished the occupants as Classicus and the young
Tiberius.
He felt a chill creep over his heart; the hour had come.
He moved after the slaves toward the wharf.
Baiae's beauties extended out and waded into the waves. The landings of
marble had to be fit masonry for the feet of the Caesars and their train
when they asked the hospitality of the sea. Luxury, not commerce, came
down to the water's edge and gazed Narcissus-like at its lovely image
in the quiet bay. Here were no Algerian hulks with their lateen sails,
no evil-smelling fishing fleets, or docks or warehouses, or city
cloacas. Baiae was a city of dreams and warm baths, of idleness and
temples and villas, of gardens and fragrance and beauty and repose.
Now, the velvet winds of the starry Italian night rippled the face of
the bay; the last faint luster of a set moon showed a bar of white
light, low down in the southwest, and against that, blackly outlined, a
splendid galley was driving like the wind into port.
A dozen yards from the end of the pier lay a passage-boat, with a light
on its mast and a soft glow in its curtained cabin, Marsyas wondered if
Tiberius meant to accompany his guest to Misenum.
But while he thought, Tiberius set Classicus down, took leave with an
apology and a reminder that guests awaited him at home, and drove
rapidly back into Baiae.
A small rowboat lay under shadow at the side of the landing and the two
couriers loading the baggage awaited now their passenger.
But Marsyas emerged from the dark and stepped before Classicus. A
glance at the tidy countenance of the philosopher sent a rush of heat
through Marsyas' veins. Classicus was not feeling the spiritual combat
within him, for the work he meditated, that racked the young Essene.
That fact acknowledged helped Marsyas in his intent.
"A word," Marsyas said.
Classicus stopped, a little startled.
"Who art thou?"
"Marsyas, the Essene."
The young man had not helped his cause by the introduction.
"Out of my path," Classicus said coldly. "I have nothing to say to
thee!"
"I have somewhat to say to thee, Classicus. If thou must be hard of
heart, be not foolish and injurious to thyself."
"Suffer no pangs of concern for my welfare," the philosopher said.
"Preserve them, lest thine own cause find thee bankrupt in tears!"
"My cause will not need them: thou mayest. I know why thou art here
and whither thou art going and for what purpose. I know who sent thee,
why and what thou wilt accomplish. I know how feebly thou art aided
and how much imperiled. Above all things I know what will happen to
thee unless thou hearest me!"
"What a number of door-cracks hath yielded thee information! Stand
aside before I call my servants to thee!"
Marsyas folded his arms. The green blackness of the bay threw his
solid outlines into relief. The threat he had made suddenly appealed
to Classicus as ill-advised.
"Jewish brethren," Marsyas answered, his voice dropping into the
softness which was premonitory, "do not speak thus with each other.
This was taught thee in the Synagogue. If thy lapse into evil hath let
thee forget it, I care enough for thy manner to recall it to thee.
"First and above all things, know thou that I am not here to satisfy
the hate of thee because thou hast wrested from me my beloved! Next,
that I am here to stop thee in order to save her life, more than any
other's. Now, for thyself. Thou goest to accomplish a deed that would
recoil upon thine own head. If thou be tired of living, Classicus,
choose another way than to perish for the entertainment of him who
duped thee."
"For thy peace of mind, O sage fool," Classicus observed, "know that I
come bearing a petition to the emperor to seek for Agrippa's wife, who
hath been abducted!"
"If thou present a petition which in any way favors Agrippa or his
wife, Tiberius will test the cord on thee to be sure it is strong
enough to strangle Agrippa. And I tell thee, Classicus, the Charon of
the heathen Shades will not push off with the Herod; he will save
himself a journey and await thy arrival!"
"Still threatening, still trembling for me! If I call these slaves to
remove thee thou mayest tremble for thyself!"
"I am large, Classicus, strong and determined. I could kill thee
before thy stupid slaves ran three paces!"
Classicus turned his eyes to the level line to the southwest. The
luster on the horizon was gone. The great galley, broadside now as she
hunted her channel, loomed large on the outskirts of the sheltered
water. Once, the deck-lights flashed on a bank of her oars, rising wet
and slippery from the sea.
"Listen, brother," Marsyas continued. "Thou shall proceed with me to
the maritime harbor at Puteoli, and get aboard the vessel there which
sails for Alexandria. Thou shall leave Italy: thou shalt discontinue
thy work against Agrippa--or have the knife, now! Decide!"
The hiss and protest of plowing waters came now on the breeze; the
regular beat of many oars, working as one, broke the hiss into
rhythmical bars: an invisible pennant, high up in the helpless shrouds
where night covered canvas and mast, was caught suddenly by a vagrant
current of wind and fluttered with rapid pulsations of sound. Long
lances of light reached out on the water and began to stretch
broadening fingers toward the pier. Humming noises like blended voices
came with the rattle of chains.
Marsyas knew that Classicus was awaiting the arrival of the galley for
the advantages of the interruption and to secure Marsyas' arrest.
The young Essene stepped close to Classicus.
"I shall wait no longer for thy answer," he said softly.
The philosopher's voice rang out, clear and unafraid.
"Hither, slaves!"
Marsyas was not unprepared. He seized Classicus and forced him back
into the black shadows of the clustered columns with which the inner
edge of the landing was ornamented.
The two couriers came running, but Marsyas spoke authoritatively.
"Good slaves, if ye come at me ye will force me to kill this young
man!" he said.
"Take him!" Classicus cried.
The two servants sprang forward, but Marsyas, seizing Classicus by the
hair, thrust his head back and put the point of the knife at his throat.
The two halted, tautly drawn up as if the point of the blade touched
their own flesh. Instinctively they knew that the silky quiet in the
voice was deadly; Marsyas had them.
Meanwhile the galley was delivering up her passengers to the land. The
first ship's boat that touched the landing carried four patricians.
The soft sound of heelless sandals on the pavement drifted down from
Babe. Some one of the citizens was coming to meet the arrivals.
The four stepped out, and the ship's boat shot back into the darkness.
"Ho! Regulus," one of the four cried.
"Coming!" the citizen answered from the street. "What news?"
"Caesar is dead!"
Classicus relaxed in Marsyas' grip; the slaves stood transfixed; the
young Essene, holding fast, stilled his loud heart and listened.
"Old age?" the citizen ventured.
"Perchance; yes, doubtless," one of the four answered in a lower tone,
for the citizen had come close and was taking their hands. "Smothered
in his silken cushions--died of too much comfort! Dost understand?
Well enough!"
Marsyas' hands dropped from Classicus.
By the time the Alexandrian aroused to his opportunity, Marsyas had
disappeared like a spirit into the night.