"There is a lion in the way; a lion is in the streets."--PROVERBS
XXVI. 13.
He had exchanged his embroidered tunic for a gorgeous synthesis of
crimson embroidered with gold, which set off to perfection the somewhat
barbaric splendour of his personality, and as he stood there massive and
erect, beneath the gilded beams of Caius Nepos' dining-hall, with the
slaves at his feet undoing the strings of his shoes, he looked every
inch the ruler for whom all these men here were blindly and senselessly
seeking.
His deep-set eyes beneath that stern frown had swept quickly over the
assembly as he entered, and though now comparative order had been
restored and a semblance of calm reigned around the table, Taurus
Antinor did not fail to note the flushed faces and glowing eyes, the
broken goblets, and stained and tattered cloths which gave ugly evidence
of the riotous orgy that had gone before.
But though forty pairs of eyes were fixed upon his face, none could
boast that they had perceived any change in its somewhat severe
impassiveness as he now advanced towards his host.
"Greeting to thee, O Caius Nepos!" he said. "I crave thy pardon for my
late coming, but I had other duties to which to attend."
"Duties?" said Caius Nepos lightly; "nay, Taurus Antinor, there are just
now duties so high and sacred that others must of necessity stand aside
for these! But of this more anon. Wilt rest now and partake of wine?"
"I thank thee, good Caius," replied the praefect, "but I have supped,
and only came at thy bidding, because thou didst say that affairs of
State would claim our attention this night."
To all those present he gave courteous if not very hearty greeting. Then
did his glance encounter that of Hortensius Martius who alone had said
no word or made a movement to welcome him.
There was a vacant place beside young Hortensius, and Taurus Antinor
took it, but he did not lie along the cushions as the others did but
half sat, half leaned on the couch, and turning to the young man said
simply:
"I give thee greeting, O Hortensius! I had no thought of meeting thee
here."
"I told thee yesterday that I would be present," said the other curtly.
"I remember now and am proud and honoured to sit by thy side; wilt
pledge me in a goblet of wine?"
He had forced his rough voice to tones of gentleness. Hortensius Martius
raised his glowering eyes with some curiosity on his face.
But a day and a night had elapsed since his life had lain wholly at the
mercy of this powerful giant whom he had insulted, and who had been on
the point of punishing that insult with death.
Young Hortensius, held aloft in the mighty grip of the praefect twenty
feet above the flagstones of the Forum, seeing a hideous death waiting
for him below, did not even now realise how it came to pass that--when
he recovered from the swoon into which horror and fear had thrown
him--he found himself being tended by an old woman, and anon delivered
safe and sound into the keeping of his slaves; he had entered his litter
and been borne to his home still marvelling, but of the praefect of
Rome he had not since then seen a trace.
He had questioned his slaves who swore that from the arcades of the
tabernae, where they had been waiting, they had seen nothing of what
went on around the rostra. Hortensius knew that they lied, they must
have seen something of the quarrel; they must have seen him being
carried like a recalcitrant child up to the top of the highest rostrum,
and threatened with awful punishment by the very man whom he had
affected to despise. They must also have seen the praefect relenting,
carrying him down again, content apparently with the fright which he had
given him.
His slaves must have been witnesses to his humiliation, and now were
afraid to tell him what they had seen; and for the first time in his
life Hortensius Martius felt a wave of cruelty pass over him, in an
insensate desire to make the slaves speak under pressure of torture.
At the time he was ashamed to seem too eager and had forborne to
question further. But he allowed his humiliation to breed the
quick-growing weed of hate. When first the name of Taurus Antinor was
mentioned he realised how that weed had grown apace, and now that he sat
beside him, and felt the inquisitive eyes of his host fixed with
ill-concealed mockery upon him, he knew in his innermost heart that
after this day there would no longer be room in the city of Rome for
himself as well as for this man who had vanquished and humiliated him.
For the moment, however, he did not care to proclaim before all these
men the hatred which he felt for Taurus Antinor. Thoughts of supreme
grandeur were coursing through his brain. He knew that no one stood so
high in Dea Flavia's graces as he himself had done this year past, and
that no one was so like to win her for wife, since she had in her own
proud and aloof way already accepted his respectful wooing.
Therefore, putting a rein upon his jealousy and upon his unruly tongue,
he took up a goblet and responded to the pledge of the man whom he
hated. But whilst Antinor drained the crystal cup to the dregs young
Hortensius scarcely wetted his lips, and pretending to drink deeply, he
kept his eyes fixed upon the praefect of Rome.
It seemed to him as if he had never really seen him before, so sharp are
the eyes of hate that they see much that is usually hidden to those of
indifference. Young Hortensius, over the edge of his goblet, embraced
with a steady glance the whole person of his enemy--the massive frame,
the strong limbs, the hands and feet slender and strong. He looked
straight into those deep-set eyes over which a perpetual frown always
cast a shadow, and saw that they were of an intense shade of blue and
with a strange look in them of kindliness and of peace, which belied the
stern fierceness of the face and the wilful obstinacy of the massive
jaw.
But now Caius Nepos began to speak. Taking the advice of Marcus Ancyrus
the elder, he spoke vaguely, trying to probe the thoughts that lay
hidden behind the Anglicanus' furrowed brow. He had received advice, he
said that the Cæsar was tired of government and wished to spend some
quiet days in the Palace of Tiberius, on the island of Capraea; all this
cleverly interwoven with sighs of hope as to what a happier future might
bring if the Empire were rid--quite peaceably, of course--of the tyranny
of a semi-brutish despot.
Then, as Taurus Antinor made no comment on his peroration, he recalled
in impassioned language all that Rome had witnessed in the past three
years of depravity, of turpitude, of senseless and maniacal orgies and
of bestial cruelty, all perpetrated by the one man to whom blind Fate
had given supreme power.
"And to whom, alas!" said Taurus Antinor in calm response to the glowing
speech, "we have all of us here sworn loyalty and obedience."
There was silence after this. Despite the lingering fumes of wine that
obscured the brain, everyone felt that with these few words the praefect
of Rome had already given an answer, and that nothing that could be said
after this would have the power of making him alter his decision. But
Marcus Ancyrus, conscious of his own powers of diplomacy, took up the
thread of his host's peroration.
"Aye! but we should be obeying him," he said simply, "if we accept his
abdication."
"There is no disloyalty," asserted Escanes, "in rejoicing at such an
issue, if the Cæsar himself doth will it so."
"None," admitted the praefect; "but there would be grave difficulty in
choosing a successor."
"To this," said the host, "we have given grave consideration."
"Indeed!"
"And have come to a decision which we all think would best serve the
welfare of the State."
"May I hear this decision?"
"It means just this, O praefect! that since the sceptre of Cæsar must,
if possible, remain in the House of Cæsar, and since no man of that
House is worthy to wield it, we would ask the Augusta Dea Flavia to take
to herself a lord and husband, on whom, by virtue of his marriage, the
imperium would rest for his life, and after his death fall on the direct
descendant of great Augustus himself."
Taurus Antinor had not made a sign whilst Caius Nepos thus briefly put
before him the main outline of the daring project, and Hortensius
Martius, who was watching him closely, could not detect the slightest
change in the earnest face even when Dea Flavia's name was spoken. Now,
when Nepos paused as if waiting for comment, Antinor said gravely:
"Ye must pardon me, but I am a stranger to the social life in Rome. Will
you tell me who this man is whom the Augusta will so highly favour?"
"Nay, as to that," said Caius Nepos, "we none of us know it as yet! Dea
Flavia has smiled on many, but up to now hath made no choice."
"Then 'tis to an unknown man ye would all pledge your loyalty?"
"Unknown, yet vaguely guessed at, O praefect," here broke in Escanes,
with his usual breezy cheerfulness; "we all feel that Dea Flavia's
choice can but fall on an honourable man."
"Thou speakest truly," rejoined Taurus Antinor earnestly; "but I fear me
that for the present your schemes are too vague. The Augusta hath made
no choice of a husband as yet, and the Cæsar is still your chosen lord."
"A brutish madman, who----"
"You chose him----"
"Since then he hath become a besotted despot."
"Still your Emperor--to whom you owe your dignities, your power, your
rank----"
"Thou dost defend him warmly, O praefect of Rome," suddenly interposed
Hortensius Martius who had followed every phase of the discussion with
heated brow and eyes alert and glowing. "Thou art ready to continue this
life of submission to a maniacal tyrant, to a semi-bestial
mountebank----"
"The life which I lead is of mine own making," rejoined Taurus Antinor
proudly; "the life ye lead is the one ye have chosen."
And with significant glance his dark eyes took in every detail of the
disordered room--the littered table, the luxurious couches, the
numberless empty dishes and broken goblets as well as the flushed faces
and the trembling hands, and involuntarily, perhaps, a look of harsh
contempt spread over his face.
Hortensius caught the look and winced under it; the words that had
accompanied it had struck him as with a lash, and further whipped up his
already violent rage.
"And," he retorted with an evil sneer, "to the Cæsar thou wilt render
homage even in his most degraded orgies, and wilt lick the dust from off
his shoes when he hath kicked thee in the mouth."
Slowly Taurus Antinor turned to him, and Hortensius Martius appeared
just then so like a naughty child, that the look of harshness died out
of the praefect's eyes, and a smile almost of amusement, certainly of
indulgence, lit up for a moment the habitual sternness of his face.
"Loyalty to Cæsar," he said simply, "doth not mean obsequiousness, as
all Roman patricians should know, oh Hortensius!"
"Aye! but meseems," rejoined the young man, whose voice had become
harsher and more loud as that of Taurus Antinor became more subdued and
low, "meseems that at the cost of thy manhood thou at least art prepared
to render unto Cæsar----"
But even as these words escaped his lips the praefect, with a quick
peremptory gesture, placed one slim, strong hand on Hortensius' wrist.
It seemed as if in a moment--and because of those words--a strange
power had gone forth from the soul within right down to the tips of the
slender fingers that closed on those of the younger man with a grip of
steel.
He had raised himself wholly upright on the couch, his massive figure,
in the gorgeous crimson tunic, standing out clear and trenchant against
the shadowy whiteness of the marble walls behind him. His head, with the
ruddy mass of hair on which the flickering lamps threw brilliant, golden
lights, was thrown back, and the eyes, deep, intent, and glowing with
unrevealed ardour, looked straight out before him into the shadows.
"Render unto Cæsar," he said slowly, "the things which are Cæsar's, and
unto God the things that are God's."
His voice was low and unmodulated, as of one who repeats something that
he has heard before, whilst the eyes suddenly shone as if with a
fleeting memory of an exquisite vision.
The action, the words, were but momentary, but for that brief moment the
angry retort was checked on Hortensius' lips, even as were the sneers
and the bibulous scowls on the faces of those around. Taurus Antinor,
towering above them all, and imbued with a strange dignity, seemed to be
gazing into a space beyond the walls of the gorgeous dining-hall; into a
space hidden from their understanding but peopled with the sweet memory
of a sacred past. And even as he gazed a strange spell fell over these
voluptuaries; a spell which they were unable to withstand. Whilst it
lasted every ribald word was stilled and every drunken oath lulled to
silence. The very air seemed hushed and only from a bunch of dying roses
the withered petals were heard to fall one by one.
Then the grasp on Hortensius' wrist relaxed, the dark head was lowered,
the falling lids once more hid the mysterious radiance of the eyes. The
spell was broken as Taurus Antinor resumed quietly:
"The Cæsar," he said, "hath not yet abdicated; he is still our chosen
ruler and Emperor. To speak of his successor now savours of treachery
and----"
"And what thou sayest stinks of treachery," broke in Hortensius Martius
with redoubled wrath, and shaking himself free from the brief spell of
superstitious awe which Antinor's words and Antinor's grip on his arm
had momentarily cast over him. "Hast come here, O praefect, but to spy
on us, to probe our souls and use them for thine own selfish ends?"
"Silence, Hortensius!" admonished Ancyrus, the elder.
"Nay, I'll not be silent!" retorted the young man, who seemed at last to
have lost all control over his jealous passion. His eyes, in which
gleamed the fire of intense hate, swept from the face of his enemy to
that of his friends whom they challenged. His voice had become raucous
and hoarse and his tongue refused him service, making his words sound
inarticulate.
"Do ye not see," he shouted, turning his flushed face toward the others,
"do you not see how you are being fooled? The praefect stands high in
the Cæsar's favour, he has the Cæsar's ear----"
"Silence!" broke in in peremptory accents the voice of Caius Nepos, the
host.
"Silence!" cried some of the younger men.
"No! No! I'll shout! I'll shout!" persisted Hortensius with the crazy
obstinacy of one whose mind is obscured with liquor and with passion,
"I'll shout until you understand. Fools, I tell ye! Fools are ye all!
You tell this man of your schemes, of your plans! He listens blandly to
you!... You fools! you fools! Not to have suspected ere this that his
so-called loyalty to Cæsar masks his treachery to us!"
He was kneeling now upon his couch, and with clenched hands was pounding
against the cushions like an angry child. The tumult became general;
everyone was shouting. Those who were nearest to this raving young
maniac were trying to seize him, but he waved his arms about like the
wings of a night bird, and anon he seized a goblet of heavy solid metal
and struck out with it to the right and left of him, so that none dared
come nigh.
But the praefect stood quietly beside him, with arms held very tightly
across his mighty chest, his dark eyes fixed upon the raving figure on
the couch. No one had ventured to approach him, for the feeling of
superstitious awe which he had aroused in them a while ago had not
wholly died down, and now there was such a look of contempt and of wrath
in his face that instinctively the most sober drew away from him, and
those whose minds were obscured with wine looked upon him in ever
growing terror.
Suddenly Hortensius, brandishing the heavy goblet, raised it high above
his head, and with a drunken and desperate gesture he flung it in the
direction of the praefect, but his hand had trembled and his arm was
unsteady. The goblet missed the head of Taurus Antinor and fell crashing
along the marble-topped table, bringing a quantity of crystal down with
it in its fall.
A few drops of the wine from the goblet had fallen on Taurus Antinor's
tunic, and from the parched throat of young Hortensius there rose a
hoarse and immoderate laugh and a string of violent oaths. But even
before these had fully escaped his lips he saw the praefect's dark face
quite close to his own, and felt a grip as of a double vice of steel
fastening on both his shoulders.
He knew the grip and had felt it before; no claw of desert beast was
firmer or more unrelenting. Young Hortensius felt his whole body give
way, his very bones crack beneath that mighty grip. His head, overheated
with wine, fell back against the cushions of his couch, and he felt as
if the last breath in him was leaving his enfeebled body.
"Thou art a fool indeed, Hortensius," murmured a harsh voice close to
his ear; "a fool to provoke a man beyond the power of his control."
Then as at a word from the host, the other men--those who were steady on
their feet--tried to interpose, Taurus Antinor turned his face to them.
"Have no fear," he said quite calmly, "for this man. He shall come to no
harm. Twice hath he insulted me and twice have I held his life in my
hands."
Then, as Hortensius uttered an involuntary cry of rage or of pain,
Taurus Antinor spoke once more to him:
"Thy life is in my hands yet will I not kill thee, even though I could
do it with just the tightening of my fingers round thy throat. But
provoke me not a third time, O Hortensius, for I have in my possession a
heavy-thonged whip, and this would I use on thee even as I order it to
be used on the miscreant thieves that are brought to my tribunal. So
cross not my path again, dost understand? I am but a man and have not an
inexhaustible stock of patience."
Whilst he spoke he still held young Hortensius down pinioned amongst the
cushions. No one interfered, for it had dawned on every blurred mind
there that here lay a deeper cause for quarrel than mere political
conflict. Hortensius, though vanquished now, had been like a madman; his
unprovoked insults had come from a heart overburdened with jealousy and
with hate. Now when the praefect relaxed his grip upon him, he lay for
a while quite still, and anon Caius Nepos beckoned to his slaves, and
they it was who ministered to him, bathing his forehead with water and
holding lumps of ice to the palms of his hands.
Taurus Antinor had straightened out his tall figure. For a moment he
looked down with bitter scorn on the prostrate figure of his vanquished
foe. The awed silence which his strange words of a while ago had imposed
upon the others, still hung upon them all. They stood about in groups,
whispering below their breath, and the slaves were huddled up one
against the other in the distant corners of the room. An air of mystery
still hung over the magnificent triclinium, its convivial board, its
abandoned couches, over the vases of murra and crystal and the fast
dying roses. It seemed as if some personality--great, majestic,
divine--had passed through the marble hall and that the sound of sacred
feet still echoed softly along its walls.
It almost seemed as if there clung a radiance in that shadowy corner
where the eyes of an enthusiast had sought and found the memory of the
Divine Teacher; and that in the fume-laden air there lingered the odour
of the sacrifice offered by a rough, untutored heart to the Man Who had
spoken unforgettable words seven years ago in Galilee.