"But truly as the Lord liveth, and as thy soul liveth, there is
but a step between me and death."--I SAMUEL XX. 3.
When the Cæsar had finished speaking, and he fell swooning back in the
arms of the praefect of Rome, the conspirators remained quite still,
staring at one another, dumbfounded.
Could any man at that moment have divined the secrets of the heart and
looked into the thoughts of all these men, what a medley of terror and
of lust, of rage and of jealousy, would have been unfolded before his
eyes.
The plotters were like men who, falling to with axe and pick to demolish
a building, had seen that same building collapse beneath their feet.
They had sat quietly by all the day watching the events, content that
these would shape themselves in accordance with their will. Young
Escanes from time to time fingered the poniard which he had hidden under
his tunic, Hortensius Martius gave free rein to his ardent admiration of
Dea Flavia, Ancyrus, the elder, kept watch over every phase of the
temper of the audience--its apathy, its excitement, its murmurs of
dissatisfaction and cries of enthusiasm.
Only Caius Nepos, white to the lips, sat in terror lest the courage of
the conspirators whom he had betrayed should fail them at the eleventh
hour, and he--branded as a false informer--be left to encounter the fury
of an almighty Cæsar, who had never been known to relent.
The speech of Caligula had of a truth struck strangely upon his
hearers. The men who had been willing to wait upon chance for the
success of their plot, now found that Chance had waited upon them. The
thought of treachery did not at first enter their minds. The freaks of
the crazy Emperor were as numerous and as varied as the grains of sand
in the arena. That he should offer the hand of his kinswoman as a prize
to a victor in the arena, was not inconsistent with his perpetual desire
for new sensations, his lust of tyrannical power and his open contempt
for all his fellow-men.
His allusions to his probable successor had seemed futile and of no
account, and they all felt that they had wallowed so deeply in the mire
of conspiracy together, that it could not have served the purpose of any
one of them to betray the others.
The first moment of stupefaction had quickly passed away, and even
before the Cæsar had recovered consciousness Hortensius Martius had
risen to his feet. There had been no hesitation in him from the first.
Whilst the others pondered--vaguely frightened at this turn given by
Chance to her wheel--he was ready to stake his life for the possession
of Dea Flavia and of the imperium. His passion for the beautiful woman
would have led him into far wilder extravagances and into far graver
dangers than an encounter in a public arena with a wild beast, and the
momentary degradation of offering his patrician person as a spectacle
for the plebs.
And because of this sudden decision, taken boldly whilst others wavered,
he became tacitly the leader of the gang of plotters. When he jumped to
his feet, ready to descend into the arena, he seemed to challenge them
to keep their oath of allegiance to him, who would succeed in winning
Dea Flavia for wife.
Hortensius Martius had proved himself to be a true opportunist, for he
had seized his opportunity just at the right moment when the others
hesitated. Thus are leaders made--one bold movement whilst others sit
still, one step forward whilst the others wait.
"Thy chance, O Hortensius Martius," whispered Marcus Ancyrus, the elder,
close to the young man's ear. "Escanes and the rest of us will be ready
when the time comes, mayhap before thou dost return to us from below."
Escanes' hand beneath his tunic closed upon the dagger. Stronger and
taller than Hortensius, he had not the sudden initiative of the brain.
He was one of those men who would always be second to a bolder, a more
resourceful leader.
Forty pairs of eyes encouraged Hortensius Martius as he rose. In their
minds they had already crowned him with laurels. For the moment they had
accepted him as their future Emperor and were prepared to acclaim him as
Cæsar when Escanes had done his work.
It was at this moment that Caligula recovered from his swoon. His lust
of revenge and of hate brought him back to reality. He had planned to
make the arch-traitor betray himself, and now, when he caught sight of
Hortensius Martius preparing to descend into the arena, a cry as of some
prowling, savage beast rose and died in his throat.
He was sufficiently cunning to control himself, sufficiently of an actor
to play his part without betraying his thoughts. Though he would gladly
have strangled Hortensius then and there with his own hands, he called
the young man to him with kindly benevolence and placed a fatherly hand
upon his shoulder.
"Thou, O Hortensius Martius?" he said, in well-feigned astonishment.
"Even I, O Cæsar!" replied Hortensius calmly.
"For love of the Augusta thou wouldst risk thy life?"
"To prove my valour, gracious lord, since thou didst desire it."
"On thy knees then, O my son!" rejoined the mountebank solemnly, "and
receive the blessing of the gods."
The public watched this little scene with palpitating interest. The
Cæsar looked magnificent in his fantastic robes, and beside him Dea
Flavia--like a goddess in her white tunic--was beautiful to behold.
The Cæsar laid three fingers on the young man's head, and turned his
bloodshot eyes up to the vault of heaven. Then Hortensius Martius rose
from his knees and went up to the Augusta Dea Flavia, and knelt down
before her. She took no heed of him whatever. She did not look upon his
bowed head as he stooped very low and kissed the hem of her gown; some
who watched the scene very closely declared afterwards that she snatched
her robe away from his hands.
And from the arena down below was heard again the snarl of the thwarted
beast.
From the Emperor's tribune, to right and left, wide marble steps led
down to the floor of the arena. At the bottom of these steps huge iron
gates, wrought with gold and studded with nails, guarded them against
access from below. Two legionaries were stationed at these gates.
When Hortensius Martius appeared at the top of the steps the audience
screamed with delight and cheered him to the echoes.
He was indeed a figure like to please the most hardened spectator. Not
over tall, and slight of build, he looked elegant and graceful in his
short white tunic, with the deep purple bands that proclaimed his
patrician rank.
A young exquisite, with well-groomed hands and hair delicately perfumed
and curled, the tense expression of his face gave him nevertheless an
air of determination and of strength. He had taken off his cloak and was
winding it round his left arm, otherwise, of course, he was unarmed as
the Emperor had directed.
The women blew him kisses across the width of the arena, and some of the
more enthusiastic--or the younger--ones pelted him with roses as he came
down the steps.
And down below the panther, as if scenting this new prey, sent a roar of
expectation into the vibrating air.
Caligula smiled with hideous complacency as he looked down on the
descending figure of the young man, and when the people cheered, and the
shower of roses fell in a blood-red mass at Hortensius' feet, the Cæsar
snarled even as the panther had done, showing a row of yellow teeth,
like fangs.
At last Hortensius Martius had reached the foot of the steps. The
massive iron gates stood alone between him and the black panther, which
cowered some twenty feet away behind a low monticule covered with tufts
of grass, its tiny eyes of topaz fixed upon the oncoming prey.
Hortensius gave the order for the opening of the gates. They swung upon
their hinges and he passed out through them. And they fell to behind him
with a mighty clang.
Thunderous applause greeted him when he set his foot upon the sands of
the arena. The panther did not move. It had even ceased to snarl, but
its sinewy tail beat a dull tattoo upon the ground.
Then over the whole arena there rose a curious sound, like the sighing
of two hundred thousand souls, an indrawing of the breath in two hundred
thousand throats. Hortensius Martius looked up, for the sigh had
sounded very strangely in his ear, and it had been followed by a still
stranger silence, as if two hundred thousand hearts had momentarily
ceased to beat.
And as he looked he understood the sigh, and also the death-like silence
that followed.
He saw that from the niches all round the arena the safety ladders of
crimson silk had all been taken away.
And up in the imperial tribune the mighty Cæsar laughed loudly and
long.