"The fool hath said in his heart, There is no God."--PSALM XIV. 1.
And late that day when Dea Flavia was preparing for rest she dismissed
her tire-women, keeping only her young slaves around her, and then
ordered Licinia to attend on her this night.
Licinia was highly privileged in the house of Dea Flavia. She had nursed
the daughter of proud Claudius Octavius at her breast, and between the
wizened old woman and the fresh young girl there existed perfect
friendship and the confidence born of years. Dea's first tooth was in
Licinia's keeping and so was the first lock of hair cut from Dea's head.
Licinia had been the confidante of Dea's first childish sorrow and was
the first to hear the tales of the young girl's social triumphs.
No one but Licinia was allowed to handle Dea's hair. It was her
shrivelled fingers that plaited every night the living stream of gold
into innumerable little plaits, so that the ripple in it might continue
to live again on the morrow. It was Licinia who rubbed Dea's exquisite
limbs with unguents after the bath, and she who trimmed the rose-tinted
nails into their perfect, pointed shape.
To-night Dea Flavia was lying on a couch covered with crimson silk. Her
elbows were buried in a cushion stuffed with eiderdown, her chin rested
in her two hands and her eyes were fixed on a mirror of polished bronze
held up by one of her younger slaves.
Licinia, stooping over the reclining body of her mistress, was gently
rubbing the white shoulders and spine with sweet-scented oil.
"And didst see it all, Licinia?" asked Dea Flavia, as with a lazy
stretch of her graceful arms she suddenly swung herself round on to her
back and looked straight up at the wrinkled old face bending tenderly
over her.
"Aye, my precious," replied Licinia eagerly, "everything did I see; for
thou didst draw the curtains of thy litter together so quickly, I had no
time to take my place by thy side. I meant to follow immediately, and
was only waiting there for a moment or two until the crowd of thy
retinue had dispersed along the various streets. Then it was that I
spied my lord Hortensius, and something in the expression of his face
made me pause then and there to see if there was aught amiss."
"And was aught amiss with my lord Hortensius?" asked Dea Flavia with
studied indifference.
"He looked wrathful as a tiger in the arena when the guards come and
snatch his prey from him. There was a frown on his face darker than that
which usually sits on Taurus Antinor's brow."
"He was angered?"
"Aye! at the praefect," rejoined Licinia. "He strode forward from under
the arcades directly after the crowd of thy slaves had disappeared, and
the Forum was all deserted save for Taurus Antinor standing there as if
he had been carved in marble and in bronze and rooted there to the spot.
My lord Hortensius came close up to the praefect and greeted him curtly.
I dared no longer move away lest I should be seen, so I hid in the deep
shadow behind the rostrum, and I heard Taurus Antinor's response to my
lord Hortensius."
"Yes! yes!" said Dea Flavia impatiently, "of course they greeted one
another ere they came to blows. But 'tis of the blows I would like to
hear, and what my lord Hortensius said to the praefect."
"He spoke to him of thee, my child, and taunted him with having angered
thee," said Licinia. "The praefect is so proud and so impatient, I
marvelled then he did not hit my lord Hortensius in the face at once. He
looked so huge, I bethought me of a giant, and his head looked dark like
the bronze head of Jupiter, for his face had flushed a deep and angry
crimson, whilst his mighty fists were clenched as if ready to strike."
"What caused him to strike, then?"
"My lord Hortensius called him a stranger, and this the praefect did not
seem to resent. 'There are other lands than Rome,' he said, 'and one of
these gave my ancestors birth. Proud am I of my distant land, and proud
now to be a patrician of Rome.' Then did my lord Hortensius break into
loud laughter, which to mine ears sounded mirthless and forced. He
raised his hand and pointed a finger at the praefect and shouted, still
laughing: 'Thou a patrician of Rome? thou a tyrant's minion! slave and
son of slave! Nay! if the patriciate of Rome had its will with thee, it
would have thee publicly whipped and branded like the arrogant menial
that thou art!' This and more did my lord Hortensius say," continued
Licinia, whose voice now had sunk to an awed whisper at the recollection
of the sacrilege; "I hardly dared to breathe for I could see the
praefect's face, and could think of naught save the wrath of Jupiter,
when on a sultry evening the thunder clouds are gathering in the wake of
the setting sun."
But Dea Flavia's interest in the narrative seemed suddenly to have
flagged. She stretched her arms, yawned ostentatiously, and with the
movement of a fretful child she threw herself once more flat upon the
couch, with her elbows in the cushions and her face buried in her hands.
With some impatience she snatched the mirror from the young slave's
hand, and then she put it on the pillow and looked straight down into
it, whilst her hair fell like golden curtains down each side of her
face.
"Go on, Licinia," she said with curt indifference.
"There is but little more to tell," said the old woman, who with stolid
placidness had resumed her former occupation, and once more rubbed the
white shoulders with the sweet-smelling unguent; "nor could I tell thee
how it all happened. A sort of tempestuous whirlwind seemed to sweep
before my eyes, and the next thing that I saw clearly was an enormous
figure clad in a gorgeous tunic, and standing high, high above me on the
very top of the marble rostrum beside the bronze figure of the god. It
was the praefect. From where I stood, palsied with fear, I could see his
face, dark now as the very thunders of Jupiter, his hair around his head
gleamed like copper in the sun; but what caused my very blood to freeze
and the marrow to stiffen in my bones, was to see his two mighty arms
high above his head holding the body of my lord Hortensius. He looked up
there like some god-like giant about to hurl an enemy down from the
mountains of Olympus. The rostrum stands a terrific height above the
pavement of the Forum; the marble balustrades, the outstanding
gradients, the carvings along its sides, all stood between that inert
body held up aloft by those gigantic arms and the flagstones below where
Death, hideous and yawning, seemed to be waiting for its prey. And still
the praefect did not move, and I could see the muscles of his arms
swollen like cords and the sinews of his hands almost cracking beneath
the weight of my lord Hortensius' body."
Licinia paused and passed a wrinkled hand over her moist forehead. She
was trembling even now at the recollection of what she had seen. The
beautiful figure lying stretched out upon the couch had not moved in a
single one of its graceful lines. The tiny head beneath its crown of
gold was bent down upon the mirror.
"Couldst see my lord Hortensius' face?" came in the same cold tones of
indifference from behind the veil of wavy hair.
"No!" said Licinia. "I thank the gods that I could not. One cry for
mercy did he utter, one cry of horror when first he felt himself
uplifted and looked down into the awful face of Death which awaited him
below. Then mayhap he lost consciousness for I heard not a sound, and
the whole city lay still in the hush of the noonday sleep. Less than one
minute had intervened since first I saw that avenging figure outlined
against the blue curtain of the sky: less than one minute even whilst my
heart had ceased to beat. And then did a cry of horror escape my lips,
and the praefect looked down into my face. Nor did he move as yet, but
slowly meseemed as if the ruddy glow died from out his cheeks and brow,
and after a while the tension on the mighty arms relaxed, and slowly
were they lowered from above his head. He no longer was looking at me
now, for his eyes were fixed upon the distant sky, as if they saw there
something that called with irresistible power. And upon the heat-laden
air there trembled a long sigh as of infinite longing. Then the praefect
gathered my lord Hortensius' inanimate body in his arms as a mother
would her own child, and with slow and steady steps he descended the
gradients of the rostrum. At its foot he caught sight of me, and called
me to him: 'My lord hath only fainted,' he said to me; 'do thou chafe
his hands and soothe his forehead, whilst I send his slaves to him.' He
laid the precious burden down in the cool shadow, taking off his own
cloak and making of it a pillow for my lord Hortensius' head. Then he
went from me, and as he went I could hear him murmur: 'In Thy service,
oh Man of Galilee.'"
Even as these last words still trembled on Licinia's lips there came a
sharp cry of rage, followed by one of terror, as with quick and almost
savage movement Dea Flavia picked up the heavy mirror of bronze and
hurled it across the chamber. It fell with a loud crash against the
delicate mosaic of the floor, but as it swung through the air its sharp
metal edge hit a young slave girl on the shoulder; a few drops of blood
trickled down her breast and she began to whimper in her fright.
It had all happened so suddenly that no one--least of all Licinia--could
guess what it was that had so angered my lady. Dea Flavia had raised
herself to a sitting posture, and thrown her hair back, away from her
face which looked flushed and wrathful, whilst two sharp furrows
appeared between her brows.
The women were silent, feeling awed and not a little frightened; the
girl, whose shoulder was now bleeding profusely, continued her
whimpering.
"Get up, girl," said Licinia roughly, "and staunch thy scratch
elsewhere, away from my lady's sight. Hark at the baggage! One would
think she is really hurt. Get thee gone, I say, ere I give thee better
cause for whining."
But in a moment Dea Flavia was on her feet. With a quick cry of pity she
ran to her slave, kneeled beside her and with a fine white cloth
herself tried to staunch the wound.
"Art hurt?" she said gently, "art hurt, child? I did not wish to hurt
thee. Stop thy weeping--and I'll give thee that amber locket which thou
dost covet so. Stop thy weeping, I say! Is it my white rabbit thou dost
hanker after--thou shalt have it for thine own--or--or--the woollen
tunic with the embroidered bands--or--or--Stop whining, girl," she added
impatiently, seeing that the girl, more frightened than hurt, was
sobbing louder than before. "Licinia, make her stop--she angers me with
all this whining--stop, I tell thee. Oh, Licinia, where is thy whip? I
vow I'll have the girl whipped if she do not stop."
But Licinia, accustomed to her mistress's quick changing moods, had in
her turn knelt beside the girl and was busy now with deft hands in
staunching the blood and tying up the wound. This done she dragged the
child up roughly, though not unkindly, from the ground.
"Get thee gone and lie down on thy bed," she said; "shame on thee for
making such a to-do. My lady had no wish to hurt thee, and thou hast
upset her with all this senseless weeping. Get thee gone now ere I do
give thee that whipping which thou dost well deserve."
She contrived to push the girl out of the chamber and ordered two others
to follow and look after her; then once more she turned to her mistress,
ready to tender fond apologies since what she had said had so angered
her beloved.
Dea Flavia had thrown herself on the couch on her back; her arms were
folded behind her head, her fair hair lay in heavy masses on the
embroidered coverlet. She was staring straight up at the ceiling, her
blue eyes wide open, and a puzzled frown across her brow.
"My precious one," murmured Licinia.
But Dea Flavia apparently did not hear. It seemed as if she were
grappling in her mind with some worrying puzzle, the solution of which
lay hidden up there behind that brilliant bit of blue sky which
glimmered through the square opening in the roof.
"My precious one," reiterated the old woman appealingly, "tell me,
Dea--was it aught that I said which angered thee?"
Dea Flavia turned large wondering eyes to her old nurse.
"Licinia," she said slowly.
"Yes, my goddess."
"If a man saith that there is one greater, mightier than Cæsar ... he is
a traitor, is he not?"
"A black and villainous traitor, Augusta," said Licinia, whose voice at
the mere suggestion had become hoarse with awe.
"And what in Rome is the punishment for such traitors, Licinia?" asked
the young girl, still speaking slowly and measuredly.
"Death, my child," replied the old woman.
"Only death?" insisted Dea, whilst the puzzled look in her eyes became
more marked, and the frown between her brows more deep.
"I do not understand thee, my precious one," said Licinia whose turn it
was now to be deeply puzzled; "what greater punishment could there be
for a traitor than that of death?"
"They torture slaves for lesser offences than that."
"Aye! and for sedition there is always the cross."
"The cross!" she murmured.
"Yes! Dost remember seven years ago in Judæa? There was a man who raised
sedition among the Jews, and called himself their king--setting himself
above Cæsar and above the might of Cæsar.... They crucified him. Dost
remember?"
"I have heard of him," she said curtly. "What was his name?"
"Nay! I have forgot. Methinks that he came from Galilee. They did
crucify him because of sedition, and because he set himself to be above
Cæsar."
"And above the House of Cæsar?"
"Aye! above the House of Cæsar too."
"And they crucified him?"
"Aye! like a common thief. 'Twas right and just since he rebelled
against Cæsar."
"And yet, Licinia, there are those in Rome who do him service even now."
"The gods forbid!" exclaimed Licinia in horror. "And how could that be?"
she added with a shrug of the shoulders, "seeing that he died such a
shameful death."
"I marvel on that also," said the young girl, whose wide-open blue eyes
once more assumed their strangely puzzled expression.
"Nay! I'll not believe it," rejoined the old woman hotly. "Do that man
service? A common traitor who died upon the cross. Who did stuff thine
ears, my goddess, with such foolish tales?"
"No one told me foolish tales, Licinia. But this I do know, that there
are some in Rome who set that Galilean above the majesty of Cæsar, and
in his name do defy Cæsar's might."
"They are madmen then," said the slave curtly.
"Or traitors," added Dea Flavia.
"Thou sayest it; they are traitors and rebels, and never fear, they'll
be punished ... sooner or later, they will be punished.... Defy the
might of Cæsar?... Great gods above! the impious wretches! thou wert
right, my princess! Death alone were too merciful for them.... The
scourge first ... and then the cross ... that will teach them the might
of thy house, oh daughter of Cæsar.... I would have no mercy with
them.... Throw them to the beasts, say I!... brand them ... scourge them
... wring their heart's blood until they cry for death...!"
The old pagan looked evil and cruel in her fury of loyalty to that house
which begat her beloved Dea. Her eyes glistened as those of a cat
waiting to fall upon its prey; her wrinkled hands looked like claws that
were ready to tear the very flesh and sinew from the traitor's breast.
Her voice, always hoarse and trembling, had risen to a savage shriek
which died away as in a passionate outburst of love she threw herself
down on the floor beside the couch, and taking Dea's tiny feet between
her hands, she covered them with kisses and with tears.
But Dea Flavia once more lay back on the coverlet of crimson silk and
her blue eyes once more were fixed upwards to the sky. Above her the
glint of blue was now suffused with tones of pink merging into mauve;
somewhere out west the sun was slowly sinking into rest. Tiny golden
clouds flitted swiftly across that patch of sky on which Dea Flavia
gazed so intently.
"Come kiss me, Licinia," she said slowly after a while. "I'll to rest
now. To-morrow I shall see my kinsman the Cæsar again, after a year's
absence from him. I desire to be very beautiful to-morrow, Licinia, for
mayhap I'll to the games with him. That new tunic worked with purple and
gold. I'll wear that and my new shoes of antelope skin. In my hair the
circlet of turquoise and pearls ... dost think it'll become me,
Licinia?"
"Thou wilt be more beautiful, my precious one, than man's eyes can
conveniently endure," said Licinia, whose whole face became radiant with
the joy of her perfect love for the girl.
"Ah! thou hast soothed my heart and mind, Licinia. I feel that I shall
sleep well to-night."
She allowed the old woman to lead her gently to her bedchamber, where
within the narrow alcove she lay all that night tossing upon the silken
mattress that was stuffed with eiderdown. Sleep would not come to her,
and hour after hour she lay there, her eyes fixed into the darkness on
which, at times, her fevered fancy traced a glowing cross.