"For the children of this world are in their generation wiser
than the children of light."--ST. LUKE XVI. 8.
Caius Nepos was the spokesman of the party. His high rank and great
influence with the guard under his command gave him certain privileges
which his friends were always willing to give him. They did not know of
his treachery to them; nothing, indeed, had occurred to make them guess
that the man who, in a sense, had been the leader and organiser of their
party, had betrayed them all to the Cæsar in the hopes of greater gains,
once he knew that his adherents had no thought of offering him the
imperium.
The events of yesterday had changed the whole trend of Caius Nepos'
ambitions. The people in its present temper was not like to accept him
as the Cæsar, even if he could persuade the praetorian guard to acclaim
him as such.
His one desire being his own advancement and his own interests, he had
already realised that these were best served by adherence to Dea
Flavia's fortunes, since the Cæsar himself, whilst still in the fulness
of his power had named her and her descendants as his successors for all
times. Caius Nepos, quick to seize his chance, and seeing the party of
patrician malcontents aimless without a leader, had grasped his
opportunity and constituted himself once more their organiser.
Now whilst the others grouped themselves at a respectful distance round
the Augusta, he stood quite close to her, with back bent and his face in
shadow.
"Augusta," he began, "meseems that in thy heart thou hast already
guessed the purpose of our coming. The hour is rife and we do but wait
thy command. We are at one in this: the praetorian guard will follow my
dictates, the patriciate of Rome will bow the knee to thee. Augusta, the
hour is rife! a raging madman, a cruel mountebank and abject coward has
this day forfeited all rights to sit on the throne of Augustus, thine
immortal kinsman. Augusta, art prepared to deliver Rome finally from
under the heel of a tyrant, and thyself to place the sceptre of Augustus
in the hands of one who were worthy of the prize?"
"I, my lord?" she asked coldly, for Caius Nepos had paused in his
oratory, "I? How can I--a woman--decide on this great point? 'Tis for
the legions to proclaim their Cæsar...."
"The legions," he broke in quietly, "will follow in the wake of the
praetorian guard, and the praetorian guard will listen to my voice. They
believe that the Cæsar is dead; they will soon believe that the will of
Rome lies in this, that the final choice of his successor shall rest
with thee."
Then as she made no reply but sat quite still and thoughtful, her small
hand shielding her face so that it was in shadow, her elbow resting on
the delicately carved wood of the chair, Caius Nepos drew a step or two
nearer: he bent his long back nearly double and sank his voice to an
insinuating whisper.
"It was the Cæsar himself, O Augusta," he whispered, "who yesterday,
before all the people, made an oath and declared that thy future lord
and master should succeed to the imperium, so that the descendants of
immortal Augustus should in time become the rulers of Rome."
"But the Cæsar is not dead," she said simply.
"He is dead to the people, dead to his guard, dead to Rome!" asserted
the praefect solemnly. "Yesterday the dagger of Escanes was ready to do
the supreme act of retributory justice, and to rid the world of a
maniacal tyrant and Rome of a cruel oppressor; to-day the act was
virtually done by the madman himself when he fled in abject terror from
before the face of his people."
And--as if in direct confirmation of Caius Nepos' solemn words, there
came from far away, rising momentarily above the roar of the tempest,
that ever-persistent monotonous cry:
"Death to the Cæsar! Death!" even whilst Jove's thunder overhead gave
forth its majestic echo.
Dea Flavia no longer hid her face in her hand. She sat serene and
dignified, upright and pure as a lily, allowing her thoughts to be
expressed in her blue eyes, letting these ambitious self-seekers see
that she was not deceived by their pretence at loyalty and patriotism.
They gathered closer round her, and she looked now truly a queen,
dignified and serene, her head crowned by the glory of her golden
hair--towering above their stooping forms.
There was a look of contempt in her eyes which they did not choose to
see. They were having their will with her; they had fired her ambition
and roused her enthusiasm, and that was all that these intriguers asked
of this girl, of whom they but desired to make a tool for the carving of
their own selfish ends.
Vaguely the older men wondered on whom the Augusta's choice had fallen,
whilst my lord Hortensius Martius felt the hot blood rush to his cheeks
at the hopes that had once more risen in his heart.
But now Ancyrus, the elder, began to speak and his voice was mellow and
gentle.
"The people have spoken plainly, O Augusta," he said; "wilt set thy
will against the might of the people of Rome? Hath not Jove spoken
clearly too? Think on the events of the past two days! The Cæsar's
pronouncement in the Circus, the tumult amongst the people when my lord
Hortensius Martius courted certain death in order to win thy favours,
the rage of the populace against the Cæsar!... think on it all! Did not
Jove direct all this?"
"Aye! but meseems that he did!" she murmured, as her eyes fastened
themselves on the heavy door that led to the inner room, "but since then
hath he not directed the people to acclaim the Cæsar of their choice?"
Caius Nepos shrugged his shoulders and Hortensius Martius broke in
hotly.
"The rabble clamours for the praefect of Rome! but the praefect is
dead...."
"Aye! I remember, my lord," she said quietly, "there is a rumour that he
died soon after he had saved thy life."
Then as Hortensius Martius, feeling the sting of the rebuke, bit his
under lip to check an angry retort, Ancyrus, the elder, rejoined
suavely, trying to pour the oil of his honeyed words on the troubled
water of the younger man's wrath.
"The praefect is dead, O Augusta, and the people will soon forget him.
Rome deifies thee because of thy great kinsman. Having forgotten the
hero of their choice they will readily turn to thee whom they love. They
will accept from thy hands the Cæsar whom thou wilt choose."
My lord Hortensius after that first feeling of anger had soon recovered
his serenity. He tried to put an expression of sad reproach into the
glance which he fixed on the Augusta. Perhaps she had not meant to
rebuke him and was already sorry that she had wounded him. He would have
liked to put into his glance all that he felt in his heart for her; deep
down within him, below the overlaying crust of his ambition, there was
real love for the beautiful girl who had it in her power to bestow on
him all the gifts for which he craved.
He firmly believed that the Augusta reciprocated his love. She had
always received his admiration more patiently than that of others, she
had more than once listened quietly to the protestations of his love.
Yesterday he had risked his life to win her hand: she, a proud Roman
lady, was not like to forget his valour. When from the arena he had
caught sight of her face, it was terror-stricken and deathly pale; she
had feared for him then, of that he was quite sure.
The horrible death which he had faced had given him the first claim to
her favours in the sight of his friends. They had rallied willingly
round him and had tacitly recognised him as their leader. Now it seemed
as if Jove himself, with the help of his thunders, had ranged himself on
his side.
He saw the glow of enthusiasm rise to Dea Flavia's face, suffusing her
eyes, her lips, her throat. He believed that that glow had been partly
kindled by his glance, and was too much blinded by his own ambition and
his own desires to note that the young girl's averted gaze was
persistently fixed upon the door of the inner room.
Dea Flavia, of a truth, had little thought of my lord Hortensius
Martius, of his ambition or of his love; she could not tear her eyes
away from the spot beyond the stuccoed walls where lay a man--helpless
now--but a man whose every deed proclaimed him the born ruler of men.
Then, as those around her were silent, hanging expectant upon her lips,
she forced her thoughts back to them and to all that they had said.
"What would ye have me do, my lords?" she murmured.
"Make thy choice, O Augusta!" urged Caius Nepos eagerly. "Choose thy
lord and master from among those who are ready to acclaim thy choice as
final. The praetorian guard is prepared I tell thee. The mad Cæsar
yesterday paved the way for our success. Choose thy husband, Augusta,
and the praetorian guard will forthwith proclaim him as the greatest and
best of Cæsars, princeps, imperator, the father of his armies. The
people will go wild with joy and will deify thee and thy lord."
"But the Cæsar ... my kinsman...?"
"He will end his days in contentment and in peace," said Ancyrus, the
elder, dryly, "in a villa on the island of Capræa. No harm shall come to
him. We here present do pledge thee our oath."
"But I must have time to think," she said earnestly; "'tis no small
matter ye ask of me, my lords. I am but a woman and still young in
years, and ye ask me to weigh the destinies of this mighty Empire in the
balance of mine own desires."
"We would not ask it of thee, O Augusta! were thou an ordinary mortal,"
said Hortensius Martius, speaking with passionate warmth, "but thou art
a goddess; the blood of great Augustus doth deify thee."
"A goddess? I?" she retorted coldly; "nay! I am but a lonely woman who
hath need of counsel to guide her in this supreme moment of her life."
"Are we not here to guide thee?" came in dulcet tones from Ancyrus, the
elder; "we, thy faithful servants, thy obedient slaves? Have we not
spoken and counselled thee?"
"Aye! you have spoken, my lords, and I have read the thoughts that lie
behind your words. 'Tis not loyalty to dead Augustus that alone led your
footsteps to my door."
"Our love for thee," interposed Hortensius Martius softly.
"And your own aims that you would follow, your own ambitions that you
would feed."
Then as hot words of protest rose to the lips of most, she put up her
hand and added with quiet dignity:
"Nay, my lords, 'tis but human to be ambitious, and Rome herself is
great because she is ambitious. But I, for myself alone, have no
ambition. The proud title which ye would offer me holds no allurement to
my tastes. But if the gods will so guide my choice that a just and brave
man shall bear the sceptre of imperial Augustus, then will I thank them
on my knees that I was made a medium for their will."
Hortensius Martius, convinced that her eyes had rested on him while she
spoke, made an effort to disguise the look of triumph that shone from
out his glance. But young Escanes, in whom all hope had not yet died,
was under the same impression, as also was my lord Philippus Decius;
for, in truth, Dea Flavia had looked round on them all marvelling how
any of them could compare with the man who already, in her heart, was
the chosen lord of Rome.
"And now, my lords," she said, paying no further heed to the sighs of
restless desires that rose up round her as she spoke, "I pray you ask no
more of me. I must think and I must pray. I entreat you not to urge a
decision on me until I have thought and prayed."
"Time is precious, Augusta," urged Caius Nepos feebly, "and the people
will not wait."
"The people have fled from before the storm," she rejoined, "and their
will, remember, my lords, may not be in accordance with yours."
"They call for the praefect of Rome and the praefect is dead. We must
be ready to acclaim a Cæsar who will be equally to their choice."
"Then," she said, "when to-morrow the third hour of the day is called, I
pray you, my lords, come back to me for mine answer. But I must have
until to-morrow to ponder and to pray. An you must press me now," she
added decisively, seeing that protestations were again hanging on their
lips, "then must my answer be 'No!' to all your demands."
Though in her heart she had already weighed all that she meant to do,
yet she would not give her decision without speaking first to the man
who already was the elect of her choice. He was sick now, lying in the
arms of sleep. In a few hours probably he would be refreshed, and it
would indeed be a mighty Cæsar whom she would proclaim on the morrow
before the people of Rome.
"The people will not wait till to-morrow, Augusta," urged Ancyrus, the
elder, "canst tell a raging tempest to pause or a thunderstorm to bide
thy time? They are quiet for the nonce but in an hour they will again
invade the imperial hill. Thy house will not be safe."
"Then must ye put a check upon the people as best ye can, my lords; I
cannot make my choice at this hour," she said determinedly, "if ye
cannot wait and if ye fear the people, then must you make your plans
without my help."
They consulted with one another in whispers. The Augusta was obdurate
and without her they did not care to act. Her personality was alone
powerful enough at this crisis to satisfy the people, and she alone
could stand for the success of their intrigues against the people's loud
demands for the praefect of Rome.
Betwixt two dangers the plotters chose the lesser one. If the populace
got once more out of hand they would, whilst invading the palaces, find
the Cæsar and no doubt murder him. That act of vengeance once
accomplished they would probably calm down for a while. They would
expend their strength in clamouring for the praefect of Rome, but the
praefect of Rome was certainly dead, else he would have appeared ere
this. The darkness of the night would perforce put a stop to all
street-rioting; under its cover the praetorian praefect could easily
rejoin the guard, and by the third hour of to-morrow, everything would
be prepared for the proclamation of the newly chosen Cæsar.
Not one of these conspirators had any doubt as to who that Cæsar would
be. Chosen from among their ranks, he would be compelled to reward
richly those who had placed him on the throne.
Dea Flavia waited quietly while these hurried consultations were going
on. Now that she saw that her wishes had prevailed, she once more became
gracious and kind.
With a sign of the head and a smile that contained a promise she
intimated to them that they were dismissed.
"I beg of you, my lords," she said, "to look upon my house as your own
until the morrow. My slaves will offer you food and drink, and prepare
you baths to refresh you, and sleeping-chambers for the night. To-morrow
you will have mine answer. May the gods protect ye until then, my
lords."
She touched a small gong summoning Dion and Nolus back into her
presence. To them she entrusted the task of seeing to the needs of these
great lords and of watching over their comforts.
It would have been churlish and inexpedient after this to insist on
further conversation. Moreover the presence of the slaves put a check on
privacy. It was better on the whole to obey. These sybarites too were
not averse to the thought of a rich table and of merry-making in the
Augusta's house until the morrow. Her cooks were noted for their skill
and hers were the richest cellars in Rome.
Caius Nepos, Ancyrus, the elder, and the others all walked out of Dea
Flavia's presence backwards and with spine bent at an obsequious angle.
Hortensius Martius was the last to leave. He knelt on the floor, and
taking the edge of her tunic between his fingers he touched it
reverently with his lips. She looked down on him, not unkindly. Had he
but known that his greatest claim on her graciousness was that his life
had been saved by another, he would not have worn that look of triumph
as he finally followed the others out of the room.
"She hath made her choice, my lord," said Caius Nepos amiably, taking
the younger man by the arm, "a woman was not like to reject such
brilliant proposals."
"I will ask for the praefecture of Rome," murmured Ancyrus, the elder,
complacently.
My lord Hortensius Martius said nothing, but he disengaged his arm from
his too familiar friend and walked ahead of all the others, squaring his
shoulders and holding his head erect, as one already marked out to rule
over the rest of mankind.