"Hell from beneath is moved for thee to meet thee at thy
coming."--ISAIAH XIV. 9.
I pray you follow me now to an inner chamber in the palace of the mighty
Cæsar. A square room with walls of marble inlaid with precious stones,
and with hangings of crimson silk to exclude the searching light of day.
The air heavy with the fumes of burning incense that wound in spiral
curves upwards to the domed roof, and escaped--ethereal and
elusive--through the tiny openings practised therein, the seats of
gilded wood with downy cushions that seemed to melt at a touch, and in a
recess a monumental bed of solid and priceless citrus, carved by the
hand of a Greek sculptor, with curtains of purple silk wrought all over
with stars.
In vases of delicate murra huge bunches of blood-red roses hung their
drooping heads, and beneath the feet carpets of heavy silk hid the
exquisite beauty of mosaics of lapis-lazuli and chrysoprase.
And in the midst of all this stately gorgeousness a creature--hardly
human--raging round like a thwarted beast.
Caius Julius Cæsar Caligula was in one of his maddest moods; his hollow
eyes glowed with unnatural fire, his scanty, light-coloured hair stood
up around his head like the bristly mane of a hyena. Up and down the
room he stamped with heavy feet; his robe, weighted with precious
stones, striking out around him as he trod the smooth surface of silken
carpets or the slippery mosaic of the floor. His thin arms and ankles
were covered with numerous bracelets and on his feet were shoes studded
with diamonds.
At first sight it would indeed have been difficult to say if it was a
man or a woman who was thus pacing this magnificent cage, with wild
gestures of the arms and hoarse cries that seemed to proceed from no
human throat. The face, white and puffy, might have been of either sex,
and the flowing garment and wealth of jewellery suggested a woman rather
than a man.
The Cæsar was crazy with rage, and all round the room slaves and
attendants cowered, terrified. In his hand he had a short whip with five
thongs of solid, knotted leather, at the end of each of which was an
iron hook. From these five hooks a few drops of blood were trickling
down his white silk tunic. At intervals, at the slightest noise or sound
from the cowering slaves, he struck out savagely with the whip, and the
thongs with their sharp hooks would descend whizzing on some naked
shoulder and tear out a piece of flesh and start the flow of a fresh
stream of blood.
Then the madman would break out into a diabolical fit of laughter, and
strike out with his whip again and again all around him, wildly and
indiscriminately, until his garments and his face were spattered all
over with blood, and to right and left of him shrieking figures fell
fainting to the ground.
The Cæsar was crazy with rage, and he who had thus angered him reclined
on a couch, out of the reach of the shrieking demon, and his thin lips
were curled in a smile of satisfaction. It was Caius Nepos who was here
that he might betray those of his accomplices who had swerved from their
allegiance to himself, and behind him--well hidden by the draperies of
the couch--cowered Hun Rhavas, the dusky slave of the treasury, he who
yesterday had appeared before the tribunal of the praefect of Rome for
conspiracy to defraud the State in connection with the sale of the
slave-girl Nola.
The law in such matters was severe. It demanded that a delinquent
against the State--if he be a slave--shall lose his right hand, or his
tongue, or his ears; that he should moreover forfeit his entire
hard-saved belongings to the treasury and lose all chance of ever
obtaining his freedom. But the praefect had been lenient, and though he
could not dismiss the offender, he mitigated his punishment.
Hun Rhavas was publicly scourged and branded, but he lost neither ears,
tongue, nor hand, nor was he deprived of the peculium with which
ultimately he hoped to purchase his own freedom and that of his
children. Yet such was the African's nature, such the result of the
training which slavery in the imperial entourage had drilled into him,
that Hun Rhavas forgot the clemency and only remembered the punishment.
With bleeding back and mind saturated with hate, he sought audience of
the Emperor, and obtained it half an hour after Caius Nepos, the
praetorian praefect, had himself been introduced in the presence of
Caligula. The story which Hun Rhavas--the paid spy--brought to the ear
of Cæsar, was but a confirmation of what Caius Nepos had to tell.
A conspiracy was on foot to murder the father of the armies, the
greatest and best of Cæsars. The flower of the Roman patriciate was
wallowing in this monstrous treachery. Hortensius Martius was in it up
to the neck, so was Marcus Ancyrus, the elder, and Philippus Decius and
Philario, of the imperial household.
Hun Rhavas had seen them consorting together and whispering among
themselves the day of the sale of the late censor's slaves. He was able
to state positively that the praefect of Rome was at one with the band
of traitors.
This last fact had brought the frenzied Cæsar to the verge of death. He
nearly choked with the violence of his rage. He had believed in the
honesty of Taurus Antinor: had even looked on him as a lucky fetish.
This man's treachery was more infuriating than that of a thousand
others. In the madness of his wrath he would have killed Hun Rhavas with
his own hands had not the latter succeeded in hiding himself out of the
raving maniac's reach.
Had he dared, Caligula would have tortured Caius Nepos until he too gave
him evidence against Taurus Antinor; but on this point the praetorian
praefect was guarded. He had not yet made up his mind whether friendship
or enmity with the praefect of Rome would be to his own advantage. All
that he wanted at this moment was to be rid of those who had opposed him
last night for the sake of their own schemes. Therefore in measured
words he only spoke of the whisperings which he had overheard in the
vestibule of his own house, between a certain band headed by Hortensius
Martius and Marcus Ancyrus, the elder.
"During the Circensian games, O Cæsar," he explained, "they hope to
raise a tumult amongst the people ... and whilst the attention of thy
faithful guard is drawn away from thy sacred person, one of the
miscreants is to plunge a dagger in thy throat----"
Here he was forced to silence by a cry like that of a slaughtered ox,
which shook the marble pillars of the hall. Caligula had thrown himself
upon the bed and was writhing there like a mad beast, biting the
coverlets, beating with clenched fists against the woodwork, while foam
dripped from the corners of his mouth.
"Tell me more--tell me----" he bellowed at last, during an interval
between two of these maniacal spasms.
The slaves all round the room were trembling with fear; Hun Rhavas,
huddled under the couch, was shaking like a leaf.
But Caius Nepos, calm and dignified, waited in silence until the
paroxysm had abated, then he quietly went on with his tale.
"There is but little else to tell, O Cæsar. I came to warn thee ... for
'tis easy for thee to wear a shirt of mail to cover thy throat and
breast against the dagger of assassins. But the conspirators hushed
their talk in my presence. I tried to hear more and played the spy in
thy service, but my heart was burdened with loyalty for thee, so I came
thus early to put thee on thy guard."
The Cæsar had once more resumed his restless walk up and down the room.
He was biting his fists, trying to restrain himself from striking the
noble informer as brutally as he did his slaves, for he loathed the
bearer of evil tidings almost as much as the secret traitors. He
suffered from an overwhelming fury of hatred and from an unquenchable
thirst for blood.
But three years ago the people and patricians had acclaimed him with
shouts and rejoicings; they had feasted in his honour, proclaimed his
godhead and his power, and now they were plotting to murder him! The
madman threw out his arms in a passionate longing for revenge.
"They would kill me," he cried hoarsely, "kill me!" ... And a demoniacal
laugh broke from his swollen throat. He tore the garments from off his
chest and buried his nails in his own flesh, whilst roar upon roar of
his mad laughter woke the echoes of his stately palace.
Then suddenly the paroxysm died completely down. An unnatural calm
succeeded the violent outbursts of rage. Caligula, with a corner of his
silken robe, wiped the perspiration from his streaming face. He threw
himself on a seat, and resting both elbows on his knees and his chin in
his hands, he stared contemplatively before him.
Of a truth this calm seemed even more awe-inspiring than the snarls and
cries of a while ago. Caius Nepos' sallow cheeks became still more ashen
in colour as he cast a quick glance round the room, feeling perhaps for
the first time to-day how completely he was at the mercy of a raving
lunatic if the latter should turn against him. But the Cæsar sat there
for some time, ruminating, with great hollow eyes fixed on one spot on
the ground and gusts of stertorous breathing escaped from his chest.
After a while he spoke:
"Thou didst not tell me yet, O kind friend!" he said dully, "what the
traitors mean to do once they have murdered their Cæsar. Whom would they
set up as his successor? They cannot all be emperors of Rome. For whose
sake then do they intend to commit this damnable treachery?"
"Nay, great Cæsar!" replied Caius Nepos drily, "methinks they all have a
desire to become Emperor of Rome, and this being impossible, there was a
vast deal of wrangling in my vestibule last night. I caught the purport
of several words, and----"
"And of several names?" asked Caligula in the same even voice.
"I heard one name spoken in particular, O Cæsar."
"Tell me."
"That of the Augusta, thy kinswoman," said Caius Nepos, after a slight
moment of hesitation.
"Of Dea Flavia?"
"Even hers."
"But she is a woman, and cannot lead an army," said the Emperor, whose
voice sounded hollow and distant, as if it came from out the depths of a
grave.
"Nor was that suggested, O Cæsar."
"What then?"
"The conspirators, methinks, have agreed amongst themselves that the
future husband of Dea Flavia Augusta--whoever he might be--should be the
successor of the murdered Cæsar."
"Whoever he might be," repeated the Emperor, mechanically echoing the
other's words.
"Aye! The Augusta, I understand, favours no one as yet."
"She hath made no choice ... to thy knowledge?"
"No, no ... her choice was to be made after ... afterwards."
"Her choice to be made by her--or by them?"
"That I know not, great Cæsar. The Augusta, I feel sure, was not a
consenting party to the treachery. The traitors would use her for their
own ends."
After this there was silence for a while. Caligula still sat staring
with wide-open eyes before him, whilst the slaves held their breath,
staring fascinated on that terrible whip, lying momentarily forgotten.
Caius Nepos, pale as a withered maple leaf, was from time to time
moistening his dry lips with his tongue.
The minutes sped on. Who shall say what fiendish thoughts were coursing
through the mad tyrant's brain?
At last he rose, and resumed his walk up and down the room. But no
longer did he rave now, no longer did he strike about him like one
bereft of reason. His face, though flushed and streaming with
perspiration, was set and calm; his footsteps across the carpets were
measured and firm. He had cast his whip aside and his hands were
clenched behind his back, and on his brow there had appeared a deep
furrow, the sign of concentrated thought.
Then at last he paused in his walk and stood in the centre of the room
facing the informer.
"I thank thee, good Caius Nepos," he said, "for thy loyalty to me.
To-morrow, mayhap, I shall think of a reward in accordance with thy
service, but for the nonce I would wish to be alone. I have much to
think of. The present crisis demands of me those qualities of courage
and of statesmanship for which the citizens of Rome already know me.
To-morrow I go to the opening of the games in the Circus. Mayhap there
will be a tumult amongst the people, and mayhap a damnable traitor will
make an attempt against the sacred life of one who is god and Cæsar and
emperor all in one. If all this occurs, and I find that thou didst not
lie, then will I give thee such reward as even thou dost not at present
dream of. But if between now and to-morrow I find that thou didst lie,
that thou didst try to gain my favour and didst rouse my wrath only for
the gaining of thine own ends, that thou didst slander Roman patricians
with a view to removing thine own personal enemies, then will I devise
for thee such punishment that on thy knees wilt beg of death to release
thee from torment. And thou didst know, O Caius Nepos, that in the
inventing of torture thy Cæsar has the genius of a god."
His voice had become perfectly steady and natural in its tones; all his
restless, jerky movements had ceased. Outwardly he seemed to be
completely master of himself. But of a truth the aspect of the madman
now was more terrible than before. His sallow cheeks were the colour of
lead, his pale eyes had narrowed down till they were mere slits through
which gleams of deadly hate shot mercilessly on the informer.
Caius Nepos had great difficulty in keeping up an appearance of dignity.
It was obviously in his interest to show neither confusion nor fear just
now. Nothing but calm demeanour and a proud show of loyalty would ensure
his personal safety at this moment. The praetorian praefect knew enough
of the imperial despot to appreciate the danger of this outwardly quiet
mood, which hid the utter callousness of demoniacal cruelty.
Therefore, in response to the horrible threat, Caius Nepos merely bent
his head as if in humble submission to the will of one who was as a god.
He felt his teeth chattering against one another, his limbs trembling,
his blood frozen within him, and with it all he had the additional
horror of knowing that the brutish tyrant was looking him through and
through, that he saw the fear in him and was gloating on it with
delight.
It was with a feeling of inexpressible relief that he at last understood
that he was being dismissed. Steadying his limbs as best he could, he
rose from his couch and made obeisance before the Cæsar. Then almost
mechanically and like one in a dream, but holding himself erect and
composed, he walked backwards out of the room.
The silken curtains weighted with gold fell together with a swishing
sound behind him. And even as they did so a loud and prolonged roar of
laughter, like that of a hundred demons let loose, echoed throughout the
length and breadth of marble halls. Caius Nepos took to his heels and
fled like one possessed, with hands pressed to his ears, trying to shut
out the awful sounds that pursued him all down the corridors: the
shrieks of pain, the whizzing of whipcord through the air, and, rising
above all these, that awful laugh which must have found its origin in
hell.