YOUNG ROME
At the hour named by Heliodora, Basil set forth alone and rode by
unfrequented ways towards the street on the Quirinal named Alta Semita.
A sense of shame forbade him to make known even to his slaves whither
he was going. He kept repeating to himself that it was for the last
time; and perhaps a nobler motive would have withheld him altogether,
had not the story told by Marcian of his 'rival's' insolent menace
rankled in him and urged him to show that he felt no fear. Chance led
him past the little church of St. Agatha, which belonged to the Arians;
it helped him to fix his thoughts upon Veranilda, and silently he swore
that no temptation should prevail against the fidelity due to his
beloved.
Not far from the Thermae of Constantine, and over against that
long-ruined sanctuary of ancient Rome, the Temple of Quirinus, he drew
rein at a great house with a semicircular portico of Carystian columns,
before which stood a bronze bull, the ornament of a fountain now
waterless; on either side of the doorway was a Molossian hound in
marble. A carriage and a litter waiting here showed that Heliodora had
visitors. This caused Basil to hesitate for a moment but he decided to
enter none the less. At his knock he was at once admitted, and a slave
was sent to look after his horse.
Few houses in Rome contained so many fine works of ancient sculpture as
this, for its master had been distinguished by his love of such things
in a time when few cared for them. Some he had purchased at a great
price; more than one masterpiece he had saved from oblivion amid ruins,
or from the common fate of destruction in a lime-kiln. Well for him had
he been content to pass his latter years with the cold creations of the
sculptor; but he turned his eyes upon consummate beauty in flesh and
blood, and this, the last of his purchases, proved the costliest of all.
The atrium was richly adorned. A colossal bust of Berenice faced the
great head of an Amazon, whilst numerous statues, busts, and vases
stood between the pillars; mosaics on the floor represented hunting
scenes, the excellence of the work no less than its worn condition
showing it to be of a time long gone by. Following his conductor, Basil
passed along a corridor, and into a peristyle with a double colonnade.
In the midst of a little garden, planted with flowering shrubs, rose
the statue which its late owner had most prized, an admirable copy of
the Aphrodite of Cnidos; it stood upon a pedestal of black basalt and
was protected by a light canopy with slender columns in all but
transparent alabaster. Round about it were marble seats, and here,
shielded from the sun by little silken awnings, sat Heliodora and her
guests. At once Basil became aware of the young Vivian, whose boyish
form (he was but some eighteen years old) lounged among cushions on the
seat nearest to Heliodora, his eyes fixed upon her beauty in a
languishing gaze, which, as soon as he beheld the new comer, flashed
into fierceness. The others were two women, young and comely, whose
extravagant costume and the attitudes in which they reclined proved
them suitable companions of the lady of the house. Whilst yet at some
distance, Basil had heard a feminine voice rising to shrillness, and as
he approached the group he found a discussion going on which threatened
to become more than vivacious. The shrill speaker he had met here
before, who she was, he knew not, save that she bore the name of
Muscula.
'You--you--you!' this lady was exclaiming contemptuously. 'You say
this, and you say that! Mother of God! What do _you_ know about racing?
When were you last in the circus at Constantinople? At eight years old
you once told me. You have a good memory if you can remember as far
back as that!'
She shrieked a laugh, which no one else joined in. Heliodora, to whom
the speech was addressed, affected to smile as in lofty tolerance of
infantine pettishness. At this moment Basil stepped up to her, and
kissed her hand; As though for contrast with Muscula's utterance, she
greeted him in the softest tone her voice could compass, inviting him
with a gesture to take a place at her side, or rather at her feet, for
she was reclining on a long couch. Heliodora's robe was of hyacinth
blue, broidered in silver thread with elaborate designs. Bracelets,
chains, and rings shone about her in the wonted profusion. Above the
flat coils of her hair lay a little bunch of grapes between two vine
leaves, wrought in gold, and at her waist hung a dagger, the silver
sheath chased with forms of animals. Standing behind her the little
Anglian slave Laetus gently fanned her with a peacock's tail, or
sprinkled her with perfume from a vial; the air was heavy with Sabaean
odours.
'Ah, here is lord Basil!' pursued Muscula with a mischievous glance at
Vivian. 'He has lived at Constantinople lately--not thirty or forty
years ago. Tell us, sweet lord'--she bent towards him with large,
rolling eyes--'was it not Helladius who won for the Greens when Thomas
the Blue was overturned and killed?'
'For all I know it may have been,' replied Basil carelessly; he had
scarce heard the question.
'I swear you are wrong, Muscula,' put in the third lady. 'The lord
Basil cares naught for such things, and would not contradict you lest
you should scratch his face--so dangerous you look, much more like a
cat than a mouse. By the beard of Holy Peter! should not Heliodora
know, who, though she is too young to remember it herself, has heard of
it many a time from her father. You think too much of yourself, O
Muscula, since you ate crumbs from the hands of Bessas.'
The boy Vivian gave a loud laugh, rolling on his cushions.
'O witty Galla!' he exclaimed. 'Crumbs from the hand of Bessas. Say on,
say on; I love your spicy wit, O Galla! Cannot you find something
sharp, for the most grave, the most virtuous Basil?'
'Hold your saucy tongue, child,' said Heliodora with a pouting smile.
'But it is true that Muscula has won advancement. One doesn't need to
have a very long memory to recall her arrival in Rome. There are who
say that she came as suckling nurse in a lady's train, with the promise
of marriage to a freedman when her mistress's baby was weaned. That is
malice, of course; poor Muscula has had many enemies. For my part, I
have never doubted that she was suckling her own child, nor that its
father was a man of honourable name, and not a slave of the Circus
stables as some said.'
Again Vivian rolled on the cushions in mirth, until he caught Basil's
eye as it glanced at him with infinite scorn. Then he started to a
sitting posture, fingered the handle of his dagger, and glared at
Heliodora's neighbour with all the insolent ferocity of which his face
was capable. This youth was the son of a man whose name sounded ill to
any Roman patriot,--of that Opilio, who, having advanced to high rank
under King Theodoric, was guilty of frauds, fell from his eminence,
and, in hope of regaining the king's favour, forged evidence of
treachery against Boethius. His attire followed the latest model from
Byzantium: a loose, long-sleeved tunic, descending to the feet, its hue
a dark yellow, and over that a long mantle of white silk, held together
upon one shoulder by a great silver buckle in the form of a running
horse; silken shoes, gold embroidered, with leather soles dyed purple;
and on each wrist a bracelet. His black hair was short, and crisped
into multitudinous curls with a narrow band of gold pressing it from
the forehead to the ears.
'Oh, look at little Vivian!' cried Muscula. 'He has the eyes of an
angry rat. What vexes him? Is it because he saw Basil touch Heliodora's
slipper?'
'If I had!' sputtered the boy. 'By the devil, if I had!'
'Oh, he affrights me!' went on the mocking woman. 'Heliodora, stroke
his curls, and give him a kiss, I beseech you. Who knows what dreadful
thing may happen else?'
'I have had enough of this,' said Galla, rising with a careless laugh.
'Your house has been intolerable, most dear Heliodora, since you made
friends with Muscula. Why you did, I'm sure I don't know; but for my
part I take a respectful leave, noble lady, until I hear that this
mouse of the Palatine has ceased to amuse you with its pretty pranks.
May I never be saved if she is fit company for women who respect
themselves.'
'Why such hurry, O chaste Galla!' exclaimed Muscula. 'Is your husband
at home for once? I can answer for it he is not there very often; the
wiser man he.'
'Slap her face, Galla,' cried Vivian. 'At her! She will run before you.'
Galla moved as if to act upon this advice, but the voice of Heliodora,
peremptory, resonant, checked her step.
'None of that! Get you gone, both of you, and try conclusions if you
will in the open street. Off! Pack! By the Virgin Mother, if you linger
I will have you flung out of doors.'
In her amazement and indignation, Galla rose to the tips of her feet.
'This to _me_!' she screamed. 'To me, the only woman of noble birth and
honest life who still remained your friend! Wanton! witch! poisoner!'
Basil sprang up and walked aside, overcome with shame at the scene
enacted before him, and fearing it would end in ignoble violence. He
heard Muscula's shriek of laughter, a shout of anger from Vivian, and
the continued railing of Galla; then, ere he had taken a dozen steps, a
hand touched him, and Heliodora's voice sounded low at his ear.
'You are right, dear Basil. Only an accident prevented me from being
alone at your hour. Forgive me. We will go apart from these
base-tongued creatures.'
But almost in the same moment sounded another voice, that of Muscula,
who had sprung after them.
'Sweet lord Basil,' she murmured at his ear, 'a moment's patience, for
I have that to say which is worth your hearing.'
Heliodora stepped aside. Pale with fury, she held herself in an
attitude of contemptuous indifference.
'Speak and have done!' exclaimed Basil harshly.
'But a word, Illustrious. I know well why you are here. Not for this
woman's painted cheeks and essence-soaked hair: you had enough of that
long ago. You come because she pretends to know a secret which concerns
you nearly. It was to discover this secret that she sought friendship
with me. But do not imagine, sweet lord, that I tell all I know to
Heliodora. I have played with her curiosity and fooled her. From me she
has learnt nothing true. Even if she desired to tell you the truth--and
be sure she does not--she could only mislead you.'
Basil was standing between the two women, his eyes on the ground. Had
he watched Heliodora at this moment, he would have understood the
sudden start with which Muscula sprang nearer to him as if for
protection.
'I alone,' she continued, in a voice not so subdued but that Heliodora
could hear every word. 'I alone can discover for you what you wish to
know. Give yourself no more trouble in suing to a woman of whom you are
weary--a woman evil and dangerous as a serpent. When you choose to seek
me, dear lord, I will befriend you. Till that day, fare you well, and
beware of other things than the silver-hilted dagger--which she would
draw upon me did she dare. But she knows that I too have my little
bosom friend--' she touched her waist--'though it does not glitter
before every eye.'
Therewith Muscula turned and tripped off, looking back to laugh aloud
before she disappeared in the corridor. Galla was already gone, half
persuaded, half threatened away by Vivian, who now stood with knitted
brows glaring at Basil.
'I must get rid of this boy,' said Heliodora to her companion. 'In a
moment we shall be alone.'
Basil was held from taking curt leave only by Vivian's insolent eyes;
when Heliodora moved, he stepped slowly after her.
'Your company is precious, dear Vivian,' he heard her say, 'but you
must not spoil me with too much of it. Why did you not go away with
Galla, whose wit so charms you, and whose husband is so complaisant?
There, kiss my little finger, and say good-bye.'
'That shall be when it pleases me,' was Vivian's reply. 'To-day I have
a mind to sup with you, Heliodora. Let that intruder know it; or I will
do so myself.'
Heliodora had the air of humouring a jest. Putting forth a hand, she
caught the stripling's ear and pinched it shrewdly.
'Little lord,' she said, 'you take too large a liberty.'
Whereto Vivian replied with a pleasantry so broad and so significant
that Heliodora's cheek fired; for she saw that Basil stood within
hearing.
'Nay, I must be brief with you, young monkey!' she exclaimed. 'Away!
When I am at leisure for your tricks I will send for you. Be off!'
'And leave you with that...?' cried the other, using a villainous
word.
Hereupon Basil addressed him.
'Whether you stay or go, foul mouth, is naught to me. I am myself in
haste to be gone, but I will not leave you without a lesson by which,
perchance, you may profit.'
As he uttered the last word, he dealt Vivian such a buffet on the side
of the head with his open hand that the youngster staggered. The result
of this, Basil had well foreseen; he stood watchful, and in an instant,
as a dagger gleamed before his eyes, grasped the descending arm that
wielded it. Vivian struggled furiously, but was overcome by the other's
strength. Flung violently to the ground, his head struck against the
edge of a marble seat, and he lay senseless.
Heliodora looked on with the eyes with which she had often followed a
fight between man and beast in the amphitheatre. Pride, and something
more, lit up her countenance as she turned to Basil.
'Brave generous!' she exclaimed, her hands clasped against her bosom.
'Not even to draw your dagger! Noble Basil!'
'Have him looked to,' was the reply; 'and console him as you choose.
Lady, I bid you farewell.'
For a moment Heliodora stood as though she would let him thus depart.
Basil was nearing the entrance to the corridor, when she sprang after
him. Her arms were about his neck; her body clung against his; she
breathed hotly into his eyes as she panted forth words, Latin, Greek,
all burning with shameless desire. But Basil was not thus to be
subdued. The things that he had heard and seen, and now at last the
hand-to-hand conflict, had put far from him all temptation of the
flesh; his senses were cold as the marbles round about him. This woman,
who had never been anything to him but a lure and a peril, whom he had
regarded with the contempt natural in one of his birth towards all but
a very few of her sex, now disgusted him. He freed himself from her
embrace with little ceremony.
'Have I deceived you?' he asked. 'Have I pretended to come here for
anything but my own purpose, which you pretended to serve?'
Heliodora stood in a strange attitude, her arms thrown back, her body
leaning forward--much like some fierce and beautiful animal watching
the moment to spring.
'Do you believe what that harlot said?' she asked in a thick voice.
'Enough of it to understand my folly in hoping to learn anything
through you. Let us part, and think of each other no more.'
She caught his arm and put her face close to his.
'Leave me thus, and your life shall pay for it.'
Basil laughed scornfully.
'That cockerel,' he replied, pointing to Vivian, who was just stirring,
'sent me a message this morning, that if I valued my life I should not
come here. I heed your threat no more than his.'
They looked into each other's eyes, and Heliodora, deep read in the
looks of men, knew that her desire was frustrate.
'Go then,' she said. 'Go quickly, lest the boy pursue you His second
aim might be surer.'
Basil deigned no reply. He went into the vestibule, waited there until
his horse was brought up, and rode away.
His head bent, scarce noting the way he took, he found himself at the
entrance to Trajan's Forum. Here he checked his horse, and seemed to be
contemplating that scene which for centuries had excited the wonder and
the awe of men. But when he rode on over the grass-grown pavement, he
was as little observant of the arches, statues, galleries, and of that
great column soaring between Basilica and Temple, as of the people who
moved hither and thither, sparse, diminutive. Still brooding, he came
into the Via Lata and to the house of Marcian.
Marcian, said the porter, was closeted with certain visitors.
'Make known to him,' said Basil, 'that I would speak but a word in
private.'
They met in the atrium. Marcian smiled oddly.
'If you come to tell me what you have heard this afternoon,' he
whispered, 'spare your breath. I know it already.'
'How can that be?'
'I have seen an angry woman. Angry women are always either very
mischievous or very useful. In this case I hope to make use of her. But
I can tell you nothing yet, and I would that you were far from Rome.
Could I but persuade you to be gone, dear Basil.'
'I need no more persuading,' replied the other, with sudden resolve.
'If it be true that I am free to leave the city, I go hence to-morrow.'
Marcian's face lighted up.
'To Asculum, then?'
'Since here I have no hope. Can I trust you, Marcian?' he added,
grasping his friend's hand.
'As yourself--nay, better.'
'Then, to Asculum.'