statue of the emperor, fallen prostrate, had been removed, and an
edict promptly supplied, to the purport that an impious hand, having
attempted the life of the monarch, a reward of one hundred thousand
_sestertia_ would be the price of his apprehension. Another reward of
the like sum was offered for the discovery of a crystal goblet stolen
from the emperor's chamber.
The individual we have just noticed wore the common sleeved tunic of
coarse wool; over it was a cloak buckled on the right shoulder, the
yarn being dyed in such wise that, when woven, it might resemble the
skin of a brindled ox--such was the dress of the ancient Britons. His
head was covered with a close cap, but his feet were naked; and the
only weapon he bore was a two-handed sword, stuck in his girdle.
Ere he passed the gate it might be supposed that his business and
credentials would have been rigidly scrutinised by the guards; but he
merely showed a large signet-ring to the superior officer, and was
immediately allowed to pass. He soon came to the wooden bridge over
the river, now kept by a body of the Praetorian guards. Here, on
attempting to pass, he was immediately seized. With an air of stupid
or affected concern, the prisoner drew the same signet from his hand,
the sight of which again procured him immediate access. The bridge was
crossed, and after passing along the narrow winding streets he came to
a small triumphal arch leading into the Forum. This was an area of but
mean extent, surrounded by a colonnade, serving as a market for all
sorts of wares, and the trades carried on under its several porticoes.
The outer walls behind the columns were painted in compartments, black
and red, and here a number of citizens were assembled. There was
hurrying to and fro. Soldiers and messengers, even so early, were
bustling about with ominous activity. The stranger looked on for a
while with a vacant sort of curiosity, then, turning to the left hand,
went forward towards the gate of the palace. On a corner of the
building he saw another edict to the same purport as before. Near it
was the announcement of a spectacle at the theatre, the gift of a
wealthy patrician for the amusement and gratification of the people.
Still the stranger passed on, apparently uninterested by all, until he
came to the outer gate, where he merely paused a few moments, as
though to observe the movements of the soldiers and the changing of
the guard. The sound of the trumpet seemed to attract especial notice
from this barbarian, whose uncouth air and rude manners drew upon him
the gaze of many as they passed by. He now turned into a narrower
street behind the palace, and here he sought out a common tavern,
where the chequers newly painted on the door-posts betokened good
entertainment for travellers. Having entered, the hostess, whose
tucked-up dress and general appearance Martial, in his epigrams, so
cunningly describes, brought him a vase or flagon of wine. It was not
of the true Falernian flavour, as may be readily surmised, but a
mixture of stuff which can hardly be described, of nauseous taste,
smelling abominably of resin or pitch, and flavoured with myrrh and
other bitters. Both hot and cold refections solicited the taste and
regaled the sight of the visitor. Flitches of bacon were suspended
from above, and firewood stuffed between the rafters, black and smoky
with the reeking atmosphere below. At his own request, the stranger
was installed in a small chamber behind the public room, where stood a
couch, a three-footed table, and a lavatory. Here he was served with
radishes, cheese, and roasted eggs in earthen vessels, with a relish
of cornels in pickle. Ere this refection was brought in the table was
rubbed over with a sprig of mint, and the coarse pottery betrayed an
exquisite odour of thyme and garlic.
After the needful refreshments and ablutions he sallied forth, first
inquiring for the residence of the Chaldean soothsayer, before whose
door, in due time, he arrived. The gate leading to the vestibule was
open, and he entered by a narrow passage terminated by a small inner
court. He paused, and looked round. No fountain played in the centre;
a clump of rank, unwholesome grass was the only decoration; but the
object of his search was a crooked wooden staircase, which led to a
sort of gallery above. After a little hesitation he ascended; his
country manners showing a determination to persevere, until fairly
delivered of his errand. A door at the extremity of the gallery stood
ajar, and through this he made bold to enter. A Numidian slave,
dwarfish and deformed, was sweeping his master's chamber. He stopped
short as the barbarian, with a stupid and wondering look, entered the
apartment. After surveying the new comer with an air of deliberate
scrutiny, the dwarf burst forth into a violent fit of laughter.
"Mercury hath sent us precious handsel this morning, truly," said he,
when his diversion was concluded. "A pretty hound to scent out
master's lost goods. The gods do verily mock us in thy most gracious
person."
The visitor looked on with dismay during this ungracious and taunting
speech. At length he stammered forth--
"Thy master, is he not the Chaldean to whom my mistress, knowing I was
bound for the city, hath sent me privily with a message?"
The Briton spoke this in a sort of guttural and broken Latin, which
the apish dwarf mimicked in the most mischievous and provoking way
imaginable. The messenger, irritated beyond endurance, placed both
hands on his weapon, but his antagonist, with little ado, tripped up
his heels, and the poor aborigine was completely at the mercy of this
grotesque specimen of humanity.
Grinning over him with spite and mischief in his looks, the dwarf
stamped on the floor; presently there came two slaves, who, without
further notice than a blow now and then when resistance was offered,
bound him with stout cords, and bade him lie there until he should be
further disposed of. Inquiry was vain as to the cause of this
treatment. Bound hand and foot, he was then tossed with little
ceremony and less compunction into a corner of the room, and there
left to bemoan his hard fate. Perched just above his head sat the
cunning raven, who eyed him as though with serious intentions of
pecking at him in his present defenceless condition. He was soon aware
of this additional source of alarm, and as the bird's eye brightened
and twinkled with greedy anticipation, he rubbed his rapacious beak on
the perch, apparently whetting it for the feast. He then jumped down
on the floor, and hopping close to his victim, gave a hoarse and
dismal croak, a death-warning, it might be, to the unfortunate
captive. He tried to burst his bonds, and shrieked out in the
extremity of his alarm. His struggles kept the bird at a distance, but
it continued to survey him with such a longing, liquorish eye, that
the poor culprit felt himself already writhing, like another
Prometheus, under the beak of his destroyer. His terror increased. It
might be some demon sent to torment him; and this conviction
strengthened when he saw the dismal and hideous things that surrounded
him. Just as his agony was wrought to the highest pitch he heard
footsteps. Even the sound was some relief. He knew not what further
indignities--not to say violence--he might expect; but at all events
there would be a change, and it was hailed as an alleviation to his
misery.
The soothsayer presented himself, attended by the ugly dwarf.
"A stupid barbarian thou sayest the Fates have sent us?" said the
Chaldean, as he entered. "Bridle thine impious tongue, Merodac; what
the dweller in immortal fire hath decreed will be accomplished, though
by weak and worthless creatures such as these. What ho! stranger,
whence art thou? and why art thou moved so early across our
threshold?"
"My lord," said the prisoner, in a tone of entreaty, "these bonds are
unlawful--I am a freed man. Though a Briton, I am no slave; and I
beseech you to visit this indignity on that rogue who hath so scurvily
entreated me."
"I was privy to it, else would he not have dared this."
"And to what end, good master?"
"That we may have an answer propitious to our suit."
"What! are ye about to sacrifice me to your infernal deities?" cried
the captive, almost frantic with the anticipation.
"My friend, thou art bound for another purpose--to wit, that through
thy instrumentality we may discover the divining cup the emperor hath
lost. Knowest thou aught of this precious crystal?" inquired the
Chaldean, with a searching look.
But it were vain to describe the astonishment of the victim. He looked
almost in doubt of his own identity, or as if he were trying to shake
off the impression of some hideous dream. At length he replied--
"'Tis some device surely that ye may slay me!"
He wept; and the tears trickling down his cheek were indeed piteous to
behold. "I know not," said he, "your meaning. Let me depart."
"Nay, said the soothsayer, "thou mayest content thyself as thou list,
but the cup shall be found, and that by thy ministry. The emperor hath
offered rewards nigh to the value of three silver talents for the
recovery, and assuredly thou shalt be held in durance until it be
regained."
"And by whose authority?" inquired the Briton.
"Why, truly, it becometh thee to ask, seeing thou art a party
interested in the matter. The emperor in whose care the jewel was
left, hath sworn by the river Styx that unless the cup be brought back
to the palace ere to-morrow's dawn, he will punish the innocent with
the guilty, and that with no sparing hand. He hath already laid hands
on some of the more wealthy citizens, and amerced them in divers sums;
others are detained as hostages for suspected persons who are absent
from the city. The loss of this cup being connected with a daring
attempt on the emperor's life by some unknown hand, he doth suspect
that the very palace wants purging from treason; yet where to begin,
or on whom to fasten suspicion, he knoweth not. Mine art has hitherto
failed me in the matter. The tools they work with baffle my skill,
save that the oracle I consult commanded that I should lay hold on the
first male person that came hither to-day, and by his ministry the
lost treasure should be restored. Shouldst thou refuse, thou art lost;
for assuredly the emperor will not be slow to punish thy contumacy."
The miserable captive fell into great perplexity at this discourse. He
vowed he knew no more of the lost cup than the very stones he trod on;
that he had come since nightfall from his master, Lucius Claudius,
lieutenant and standard-bearer of the sixth legion, then at
Isurium,[23] on a mere casual errand to the city; and that his
mistress, who was a British lady of noble birth, had instructed him,
at the same time, to consult the soothsayer on some matters relative
to her nativity, which the sage had calculated some years back. Almost
a stranger in these parts, how could he pretend to begin the search?
He begged piteously for his release; promising, and with great
sincerity, that he would never set foot in this inhospitable region
again. The magician inquired his name.
"Cedric with the ready foot," was the reply. Unmoved by his
entreaties, the soothsayer said he had the emperor's command for the
use of every method he could devise for the recovery of this precious
and priceless jewel; and that, furthermore, the safety and even lives
of many innocent persons depended on the stranger's exertions, and the
speedy execution of his mission. But how to begin, or in what quarter
to commence the search, was a riddle worthy of the Sphinx. A most
unexpected and novel situation for this rude dweller in woods and
morasses, to be suddenly thrust forth into a mighty city, without
guide or direction, more ignorant of his errand than any of its
inhabitants. Besides, he was not without a sort of incipient and
instinctive dread that the catastrophe might procure him an interview
with the emperor; and he was filled with apprehension lest his own
carcase might afford a special treat, a sacrifice to the brutal
appetite of the spectators in the amphitheatre, after the manner of
the _bestiarii_, or gladiators, of whom he had often heard. Even could
he have gotten word of this mishap to his master, he was by no means
certain it would be attended with any beneficial result. The time was
too short, and the will and mandate of the emperor would render futile
any attempt to obtain deliverance from this quarter.
A few moments sufficed for these considerations. The glance of the
mind, when on the rack for expedients, is peculiarly keen, and hath an
eagle-like perception that appears as though it could pierce to the
dim and distant horizon of its hopes and apprehensions.
"Unbind these withes," said the captive; "I cannot begin the search in
this extremity."
"Merodac, undo these bonds; and see thou guard thy prisoner strictly;
thy life answers for his safe keeping."
The dwarf, who seemed never so well pleased as when tormenting the
more fortunate and better shapen of his species, unloosed the cords
with something of the like feeling and intention as a cat when
liberating some unfortunate mouse from her talons.
"There's a chance of rare sport i' the shows to-morrow," said the ugly
jailer. "We are sure of _thee_, anyhow. Didst ever see the criminals
fight with wolves, Hyrcanian bears, and such like? I would not miss
the sight for the best feather in my cap."
The cruel slave here rubbed his hands, and his yellow eyes glistened
with the horrible anticipation. His victim groaned aloud.
"I'll tell thee a rare device," continued he, "whereby thou mayest
escape being eaten at least a full hour; and we shall have the longer
sport. Mind thee, the beasts do not always get the carcases for
dinner. If they be cowardly and show little fight, we give the dead
bestiarii to the dogs. I remember me well the last we threw into the
emperor's kennel, the dogs made such a fighting for the carrion that
he ordered each of us a flagellation for the disturbance. Let me see,
there was--ay"----Here the knave began to count the number of shows
and human sacrifices he had seen, recounting every particular with the
most horrible minuteness. Cedric felt himself already in the gripe of
the savages, and his flesh verily quivered on his bones.
Brutal and demoralising were those horrid spectacles. The people of
Rome, it has been well observed by a modern writer, were generally
more corrupt by many degrees than has been usually supposed possible.
Many were the causes which had been gradually operating towards this
result, and amongst the rest the continual exhibition of scenes where
human blood was poured forth like water. The continual excitement of
the populace demanded fresh sacrifices, until even these palled upon
the cruel appetites of the multitude. Even the more innocent
exhibitions, where brutes were the sufferers, could not but tend to
destroy all the finer sensibilities of the nature. "Five thousand
wild animals, torn from their native abodes in the wilderness and the
forest," have been turned out for mutual slaughter in one single
exhibition at the amphitheatre. Sometimes the _lanista_, or person who
exhibited the shows and provided the necessary supplies, by way of
administering specially to the gratification of the populace, made it
known, as a particular favour, that the whole of these should be
slaughtered. These, however, soon ceased to stimulate the appetite for
blood. From such combats "the transition was inevitable to those of
men, whose nobler and more varied passions spoke directly, and by the
intelligible language of the eye, to human spectators; and from the
frequent contemplation of these authorised murders, in which a whole
people--women as much as men, and children intermingled with
both--looked on with leisurely indifference, with anxious expectation,
or with rapturous delight, whilst below them were passing the direct
sufferings of humanity, and not seldom its dying pangs, it was
impossible to expect a result different from that which did, in fact,
take place--universal hardness of heart, obdurate depravity, and a
twofold degradation of human nature, the natural sensibility and the
conscientious principle." "Here was a constant irritation, a system of
provocation to the appetite for blood, such as in other nations are
connected with the rudest stages of society, and with the most
barbarous modes of warfare."
"Whither wilt thou that we direct our steps?" inquired Merodac, with
mock submission, when the cords were unloosed.
"Lead the way--I care not," said his moody victim; "'tis as well that
I follow."
A bitter and scornful laugh accompanied the reply of the dwarf.
"That were a pretty device truly--to let thee lag behind, and without
thy tether. Ah, ah," chuckled the squire as they left the chamber,
"Diogenes and his lantern was a wise man's search compared with ours."
How the slave came to be so learned in Grecian lore we know not. His
further displays of erudition were cut short by the soothsayer, who
cried out to him as they departed--
"Remember, thy carcase for his if he return not."
Now, in York, at this day, may be observed, where an angle of the
walls abuts on the "Mint Yard," a building named "the Multangular
Tower," and supposed to have been one of the principal fortifications
of the city. However this might be, its structure has puzzled not a
little even those most conversant with antiquities. The area was not
built up all round, but open towards the city. The foundations of a
wall have latterly been discovered, dividing it lengthwise through the
centre, and continued for some distance into the town; so that the
whole may not inaptly be represented by a Jewtrump--the tongue being
the division, the circular end the present Multangular Tower,
continued by walls on each side. This building, we have every reason
to conjecture, was the Greek _stadium_ or Roman circus, which authors
tell us was a narrow piece of ground shaped like a staple; the round
end called the barrier. The wall dividing it lengthwise is the
_spina_, or flat ridge running through the middle, which was generally
a low wall, and sometimes merely a mound of earth. This was usually
decorated with statues of gods, columns, votive altars, and the like.
As a corroboration of this opinion, there have been found here several
small statues, altars, and other figures, betokening a place of public
resort or amusement.
The circus was not used merely for horse and chariot races, but
likewise for wrestling--the _caestus_, and other athletic games. It was
noted as the haunt of fortune-tellers, and thither the poorer people
used to resort and hear their fortunes told.[24]
Near this place stood the barracks, or _castra_. Long ranges of rooms
divided into several storeys, the doors of each chamber opening into
one common gallery, ascended by a wooden staircase.
Hither we must conduct our readers at the close of the day on whose
inauspicious morning "Cedric with the ready-foot" was placed in such
jeopardy.
The whole city meanwhile had been astir. The emperor's wrath and
desire of revenge were excited to the utmost pitch. He suspected
treachery even amongst the Praetorian guards--his favourite and
best-disciplined troops; and there was an apprehension of some
terrible disgrace attaching even to them. Still, nothing further
transpired implicating the soldiery, save that the assassin had
escaped, and apparently through the very midst of the guard; yet no
one chose to accuse his fellow, or say by whose means this mysterious
outlet was contrived. Not even to his most confidential minister did
the emperor reveal the discovery of his son's weapon. Neither that
son, nor his guilty accomplices, if any, could be found; and the day
was fast closing upon the monarch's threat, that on the morrow his
vengeance should have its full work unless the crystal goblet was
restored.
There had been a public spectacle at the theatre, but the emperor was
not present; and such was the consternation of the whole city that the
performance was but scantily attended. The city was apparently on the
eve of some sad catastrophe, and the whole population foreboding some
fearful event.
In the circus were yet some stray groups, who, having little
employment of their own, were listening for news, and loitering about
either for mischief or amusement.
In one part was exhibited a narrow wooden box, not unlike to our
puppet-show, wherein a person was concealed having figures made of
wood and earthenware that seemed to act and speak, to the great wonder
and diversion of the audience.
As the rays of the declining sun smote upon the city walls and the
white sails of the barks below, there came into the circus the dwarf
who had charge of Cedric. The captive now looked like a sort of
appendage to his person--being strapped to his arm by a stout thong of
bull's hide, such as was used for correcting refractory slaves. The
hours allotted for search were nearly gone. Day was drawing to a
close, and Cedric had done little else than bemoan his hard fate. The
whole day had been spent in wandering from place to place, urged on by
the scoffs and jeers of his companion. Some furtive attempts to escape
had been the cause of his present bondage. Hither, at length, they
arrived. Tired and distressed, he sat down on one of the vacant
benches, and gave vent to his sorrows in no very careful or measured
language.
"What can I do?" said he, "a stranger in this great city--to set me
a-finding what I never knew? A grain of wheat in a barn full of chaff,
mayhap--a needle in a truss of hay--anything I might find but what was
sheer impossible. And now am I like to be thrown to the dogs, like a
heap of carrion!"
"But the oracle, friend."
"Plague on the oracle, for"----Here his speech was interrupted; for
happening to look up, he saw, as he fancied, the eyes of one of the
little figures in the show-box ogling him, and making mouths in such
wise as to draw upon him the attention of the spectators, now roaring
with laughter at his expense. Reckless of consequences, and almost
furious from sufferings, he suddenly jumped up, and dragging the dwarf
along with him, made a desperate blow at the mimic, which, in a
moment, laid sprawling a whole company of little actors, together with
the prime mover himself, and the showman outside to boot. The fray, as
may readily be conceived, waxed loud and furious. The owners and
bystanders not discriminating as to the main cause of the attack,
would have handled both the keeper and the captive very roughly, had
not the noise awakened the attention of the soldiers in the
neighbouring barracks. Hearing the affray, a party ran to ascertain
the cause of the disturbance, and seeing two men whom a whole crowd
had combined to attack, concluded they were culprits, and forthwith
haled them before the captain of the guard, a centurion, Diogenes
Verecundus by name.
Cedric and the dwarf being rescued from a sound beating, began to
abuse one another as the cause of the disturbance; but the officer, by
dint of threats and inquiries, soon learned the truth of the matter.
"Thank the stars, I shall be rid of this pestilence to-morrow," said
Merodac; "my master could not have found me such another; and how the
Fates could pitch upon such a sorry cur for the business seems passing
strange. If he find the cup I'll be beaten to a jelly in it. Thy
carcase will be meat for the emperor's hounds to-morrow."
"If, as thou sayest," said the centurion, "thou art so mightily weary
of thy charge, leave him to my care; I would fain have some discourse
with him privily touching what thou hast spoken."
The slave hesitated.
"On the word of a Roman soldier he shall be forthcoming. Tell thy
master that Verecundus the centurion hath taken thy prisoner captive.
Here is money for thee."
The Ethiop showed his teeth like ivory studs on a coral band, while
the rings shook in his wrinkled ears as he took the largess. Yet his
brow contracted, and he hung his head. He hesitated to unloose the
bonds.
"By what token?" he at length inquired.