"How art thou fallen from heaven, O Lucifer, son of the
morning!"--ISAIAH XIV. 12.
He had a score or so of his guard with him and they remained at some
little distance, in a compact group, with their short, bronze-hilted
swords naked in their hands.
Caligula was livid. He had donned a dark woollen robe and his head was
uncovered. His knees, arms and hands were shaking and his mouth opened
and closed as if he were gasping for breath. His eyes were bloodshot and
staring out of his head like those of a man who is being strangled.
"Gracious Cæsar!" exclaimed Dea Flavia as soon as she was before him,
and with the instinct born of long usage, she bent the knee before him.
"They have trapped me," he murmured inarticulately whilst weird choking
sounds escaped his throat. "They have trapped me, hast heard?"
"Alas!"
"The miscreants! the sacrilegious miscreants! the hideous monsters! the
villainous reptiles! Aye! punishment will overtake them; they shall rue
this day! All Rome shall rue this day: her streets shall flow with blood
and I'll invent such tortures for every man as will turn the firmament
red with horror ... I'll...."
His mouth was twitching convulsively and his hands clutched
spasmodically at his throat. Dea Flavia had risen to her feet, she stood
before this raging madman erect and calm, with eyes downcast, for the
sight of him filled her with loathing.
Suddenly he ceased in his ravings; a loud crash as of crumbling walls
had rent the air, followed by shrieks and loud hissing sounds and that
perpetual cry, awesome in its weird monotony:
"Death to the Cæsar! Death!"
Caligula's face was contorted with terror, his cheeks were grey like
those of the dead. He made a quick movement forward and suddenly
clutched Dea's wrist.
"Dost hear them?" he said in a hoarse whisper.
And she nodded in response.
"They want to kill me ... they have set fire to my house ... I escaped
through the crypta.... But they were hard on my heels...."
And as if to confirm his words, the cries of "Death!" again rose in the
air; the tramping of feet, the angry murmurs became more loud and
appeared to be filling the street close by and tending toward the very
door of Dea Flavia's house.
"Ah, monsters! miserable monsters!" shouted the Cæsar, crazy with fear,
"to-morrow will come the awful reprisals ... to-morrow ..."
"To-day," broke in Dea Flavia coldly, "the Cæsar is in danger of his
life."
"They'll kill me," he cried, whilst once more trembling--akin to
palsy--seized his limbs. "They'll kill me, Augusta ... hide me, hide me
ere they come."
And he fell on his knees, grovelling on the floor like a fawning beast,
with quivering hands clutching the young girl's robe, his forehead
beating the ground at her feet.
"Hide me, Augusta," he murmured through his groans, "hide me!... Do not
let them kill me."
She drew back in horror and disgust, closing her eyes lest she should
see this degradation of the Cæsarship, this breaking down of her highest
ideals.
But two days ago this same abject creature had stood beside her,
demanding from her obedience and loyalty which she was fully prepared to
accord to him. He had called on her fealty in the very name of that
Cæsarship which she worshipped and which he was now degrading and
lowering to the dust.
Then as now Jove's thunders from afar had proclaimed the wrath of the
gods. Then as now Jove thundered his warnings to that man not to defile
the majesty of the Cæsars. But two days ago she had still believed in
and acknowledged that majesty, she had bent her will, curbed her
inclinations, smothered her every girlish inspiration, her every womanly
instinct to the dictates of that power which came straight from the
hands of the gods; now she felt actual physical nausea at the sight of
this pitiable coward, who--wallowing in his own cruelty--had not even
the unreasoning pluck of a brute defending its life.
Involuntarily her thoughts flew back to the man who was lying helpless
in her house. She saw him in her mind as she had seen him yesterday,
bounding into the arena to save another's life: strong and
determined--measuring and accepting every risk, looking neither to right
nor left whilst he carried his self-imposed burden to safety, and then
falling without a groan, felled to the ground by the claws of the
panther.
And outside the cries had become quite distinct.
"Death to the Cæsar! Hail Taurus Antinor! Hail!"
The people, in their fury and their exultation, had condemned one man
and exalted another. Truly the gods themselves had guided them in their
choice. And now it seemed as if the final choice rested with her: as if
in some distant shrine, mysterious oracles had spoken and told her that
the future of Rome lay in her hands.
And involuntarily she looked down on her hands and saw that they were
tiny and weak, and yet one of them would within the next few seconds
point the way to Destiny, show her whither she should go, carrying on
her giant shoulders the whole empire of the world.
At her feet a cowardly and inhuman creature grovelled, abjectly praying
for a life which by its continuance could only bring more sorrow, more
horrors and more misery to thousands upon thousands of human beings
dependent on this half-crazy monster.
Behind her, beyond two walls there lay a man amongst men, for whom the
people clamoured, whose very presence betokened strength and whose every
glance diffused peace. A man born to rule a people and to guide the
destinies of an empire, and whose life of simple integrity had yesterday
been crowned by an act of sublime sacrifice.
And the choice rested with her.
Her ears were buzzing with the hoarse cries from without: the cry of
"Death!" mingling with that of "Hail!"--the name of Cæsar blended with
that of the praefect of Rome; and through it all, drowning them by their
hideous sound, the groans and shrieks of a bloodthirsty tyrant, brought
down to the dust by his own cruelties, and even now thirsting for more.
The choice did rest with her.
She had but to run a few steps to the vestibule and there to call loudly
to the populace that even now was invading the slope of the hill toward
her house. She had but to rush to her door and to shout boldly:
"The Cæsar is here, and the praefect of Rome is nigh!"
And the twenty men who were waiting with naked swords would be as naught
before the onslaught of the people.
She looked round her helpless and dazed whilst the fawning creature on
the ground embraced her ankles and kissed her feet, and repeated with
frantic persistence:
"Save me, Augusta ... save me ... do not let them kill me.... I have
been good to thee.... I am thy guardian--thy Cæsar ... save me...."
"Save thee?" she repeated mechanically, "how can I?"
"Hide me somewhere--where they cannot find me"--he murmured, half
raising himself from the ground. "Thou wouldst not give up thy Cæsar to
the fury of the populace ... thou wouldst not soil thy hands with the
blood of thy kinsman..."
Now he was embracing her knees and his hideous, distorted face was
looking up appealingly at her.
"Thou wouldst not soil thy hands with the blood of thy kinsman...."
Even as these words escaped his flaccid lips a roll of thunder louder
than any previous one came echoing from behind the Aventine Hill. Dea
Flavia shuddered. Was it Jove's warning, or already Jove's curse, the
curse of the gods on her for the treachery of her thoughts?
"Thou wouldst not soil thy hands with the blood of thy kinsman...." he
repeated pitiably.
"No! no!" she said hurriedly. "Not that.... I'll help thee!... What can
I do?"
"Let me hide in thy house...."
"Where?"
He pointed to the studio.
"There!" he said.
"No! no!" she exclaimed, and instinctively her arms were held out, as if
she would protect a sacred shrine.
"Thy workroom is private," he urged in tones of abject entreaty; "no one
would venture there ... only thy women slaves ever cross its
threshold.... I should be quite safe in the inner room ... thy women
would not betray me ... thou hast some that are mute ... they could
attend on me there, and no one would know of my presence until this
outrage hath subsided.... In a few hours mayhap the praetorian guard
will succeed in forcing a passage through the raging mob ... my legions
too are on their way from Germany ... they will be here soon ... they
were only four days' march behind me and my convoy ... they are but a
couple of days' march now from the city gates ... I could stay in there
... in thy private room ... with a few men to protect me ... and thy
women to attend on me ... no one else would know...."
He talked volubly, at times incoherently, with hoarse voice and quaking
lips. She tried with all her might to free herself from his convulsive
clutch--but he clung to her like a dying man would cling to the last
breath of life--like a drowning man would cling to the raft on which he
might find safety.
"In there----" he entreated.
"No--no----"
"I should be safe and nobody would know."
And now he raised himself to his feet, and swaying like a drunken man he
turned toward the studio, calling to his guard to follow him. But she
was still between him and that door, between this raving, bloodthirsty
maniac and a helpless man who was lying wounded and in a drugged sleep
on a bed of sickness.
The oracle had not yet finished speaking. The last word still hung in
the air. Her choice had not yet been made: but at this moment when
Caligula and his guard turned toward the studio door, she knew that it
would not be long in the making. Never should that demented tyrant cross
the threshold of her studio and wreak his hatred and revenge upon the
fallen hero. Rather than that should happen she would call to the
people, and hand over the Cæsar--her kinsman--to an infuriated mob.
Better that than to deliver a wounded man into the claws of a raging
brute.
Then mayhap the blood of her kinsman would stain her hands for ever;
then, too, no doubt would come horror, remorse and the malediction of
the gods. Then so be it. That would she take upon herself. What must be
suffered, that she would suffer: the torments of remorse would be
infinitesimal compared with the awful sacrilege which the Cæsar's hand
would perpetrate, were he allowed access to the praefect of Rome.
And even as the resolve became firmly implanted in her heart, she found
herself murmuring softly words which she had heard in the Forum a very
few days ago.
"I have but one soul and that is in the hand of God!"
Something of the serenity which had then shone from the man's face now
entered into her heart. Horror and excitement fell away from her like a
useless mantle. She felt herself absolutely calm and unswerving in her
determination.
Therefore she did not make a rush for the studio door, she did not with
dramatic gesture interpose her body between it and the Cæsar: she merely
put her hand out and let it rest upon his arm.
"I should be safe in there--and nobody would know...." he murmured.
"My slaves would know," she said coldly, "and would betray thee."
"I only fear the men and they need not know," he said eagerly, even
though at her words he had paused and turned back towards her.
"Many of them have seen and heard thee."
"Tell them I have escaped to the Palace of Augustus, through the
crypta."
"They would not believe it--they would know it was not true."
"Canst thou not trust thy slaves?" he snarled.
"Couldst thou trust thine?" she retorted.
"I can change robes with one of my guard," he urged, "and he could then
pretend to be the Cæsar escaping through the crypta to the House of
Augustus."
"'Twere safest not to make pretence," she rejoined coolly; "rather let
the Cæsar do what he suggests."
"What is that?"
"The Palace of Augustus would be the safest stronghold for the Cæsar
until the arrival of the legions. It would be safer than the house of
his servant, for prying eyes may have seen him enter it, and
ears--sharpened by hate--may have heard his cries."
"Then am I lost!" he exclaimed.
"Not if my gracious lord will take counsel of his servant. The
underground way is clear and safe. The Palace of Augustus would afford
ample shelter. Twenty men well armed will watch over the Cæsar and the
house of Dea Flavia will furnish the necessary food."
Caligula hesitated a moment, his shifty eyes wandered restlessly over
the face of the young girl.
"Thou'lt not betray me?" he murmured.
"I could betray thee now an I would," she said simply. "The mob is at my
gate. One call from me and the Cæsar is in the hands of those who desire
his death."
"Hush! hush!" he said, once more clutching her wrist and gazing
fearfully around him, "speak not of this, Dea! The very words might call
down the decree of the gods.... I'll trust thee," he added, bringing his
livid face close to her own and speaking with a fever of maddened fury,
"but if thou shouldst fail me...."
"No need of threats, great Cæsar," she said, calmly disengaging her
wrist from his grasp and stepping back from him, "if I failed thee
to-day neither I nor thou would be alive on the morrow."
The truth of what she said must have struck his dulled mind, for the
look of savage ferocity quickly died from his face, leaving it once more
pale with abject fear. He must have realised that his own unreasoning
cowardice had placed him entirely in this girl's hands, and that having
feared to meet his people a few hours ago, he had cut off from beneath
his own feet the bulwark of dignity and of unapproachable sanctity on
which he should have stood.
"I'll to the House of Augustus," he said more quietly, "while the rabble
vent their rage upon my palace and search for their Cæsar that they
might murder him, I'll remain there in peace. Do thou send thy most
trusted slave into the streets, and let him endeavour to reach the
praetorian guard who are holding their ground behind the crowd of
rebels. They might effect a flank movement, which, if unexpected, might
put the miscreants to rout sooner than we anticipate. Hast a slave whom
thou canst trust thus far?"
"I have two freedmen," she replied, "free since yesternight, who would
give their life for me."
"Let them do it then," he retorted cynically. "And do thou lead the way
to the triclinium. I am anhungered, and a halt at thy table will throw
dust in the eyes of thy slaves. I can reach the crypta from there
without being seen again."
"As the Cæsar commands," she said calmly, "but there is little time to
be lost."