CHAPTER IV.
The entrance of one of the household domestics, bringing a physician,roused the young man from the first stupor of his shocked feelings. Herose to his feet and assumed a stoical calmness.
'I am a physician,' said the new-comer, breathing somewhat heavily, byreason of the pace at which the slave had hurried him thither. Martialismade a gesture toward the dead man and sank his chin on his breast. Itneeded no more than a moment for the practised eye of the mediciner to seethat life had been suddenly and utterly snatched away.
'I can do nothing,' said he, letting the hand of Apicius fall. 'Out ofwhich cup did he drink?'
Following a slight motion of the young man's head, he went and picked upthe jewelled goblet, which remained on its side, near the edge of thetable, where Apicius had thrown it. He put his nose to it and sniffed thedregs. There was no odour but that of wine, yet the man of scienceshrugged his shoulders significantly.
'There still remains in the cup enough for the death of two or three, mostnoble sir,' said he.
'I might do worse than try to prove your words,' remarked Martialisbitterly.
'The gods forbid! Aesculapius himself could not save you if you did!'
'To whom and to what place am I to send if I should want you again?'
'I should be ever grateful for your notice, noble Martialis. I amCharicles, and may be found without difficulty in the Vicus Tuscus.'
Martialis nodded, and Charicles, with much humility and expression ofsympathy, withdrew.
''Twas for himself then,' he muttered, as he passed quickly through thedeserted hall. 'O precious drug, swift and sure as light, when did youever fail or disgrace me!'
The eye of Martialis fell on the casket which Apicius had bequeathed him.He stood regarding it for a few moments, and then turned to a slave whoremained, and said, with renewed vigour of faculties, 'Let the kinsfolk ofApicius be brought hither at once, if not already sent for--Plautia, hissister, Sabellus, his uncle; and go you, yourself, bring with you back, inall haste, Festus the lawyer, from nigh the forum of Caesar--haste!'
The slave disappeared and left him once more alone. He stood and gazed onthe face of the dead, and his grief broke beyond his control. Half-smothered sobs broke from his lips, and his eyes were blind with hotpouring tears.
'Oh Apicius,' he groaned, 'if thou wert weary of the world, hadst thou solittle regard for our love and companionship? This is thy retreat from menso easily found! Easy indeed--thou didst not err. All may reach it whenthey list, gods be praised! For in whose ear can I whisper, as I whisperedin thine, all that oppressed me? Gone--gone, Apicius! Thou hast forsakenthy friend--selfish--selfish! Did you deem the void would be filled byanother of your blood? Oh, miserable thought!'
He lay stretched on a couch murmuring in broken sentences, but, as theleaden minutes lagged on, he became more composed. The sound of a voicewithout made him leap to his feet. The next instant the heavy curtainswere thrust back, and a young, richly-attired female stepped into theapartment. Despite the crushing blow the heart of Martialis had received,it gave a bound at the entrance of the new-comer. Her stature was abovethe feminine standard, and her figure large and voluptuous, but perfect insymmetry and grace. Whilst giving the impression of robustness and vigour,its stately carriage admirably matched the brilliant and haughty beauty ofher face. The gaze of Martialis was riveted on her. Scarcely deigning toreturn the look, she swept up to the suicide and bent over him. Drawingherself up again she cast her glance over the room,--the disordered tablewith its litter of plate and luscious fruits, fallen cups and crumplednapkins, all glittering in a jumble of confusion under the light of thehuge candelabra. Thence her brilliant black eyes flashed upon him whostood by, with infatuation and misery written on his face.
'Speak, Martialis, what led him to do this?'
'I know no more, Plautia, but what he said before us all here but now,'answered the young man, sweeping his hand toward the table; 'he was tiredof life--he had spent his patrimony--poverty haunted him--so he drank anddied, ere one could move or speak.'
'Poverty!' echoed she. She looked round again upon the extravagance whichglowed in every part of the room, and her red lips curled in scornfulincredulity.
'Even so,' he rejoined.
The farewell and eccentric gifts of the dead host to his guests were yetremaining on the table where they had been put. Her eyes rested on them incuriosity.
'What are these?' she demanded again.
Martialis explained their presence, and, being particularly interested,she was not satisfied until she had learnt to whom each article had beenappropriated.
'And that he gave to you?' said she, pointing to the bronze casket.
'He did,' replied Martialis.
'Know you what it contains?'
'I can only guess.'
'Well?'
'With his last breath he bequeathed to me all that remains of his effects.The box, doubtless, contains the documents relating thereto,' said theyoung man, in a voice trembling with emotion.
'Doubtless--you were his nearest friend and companion,' remarked the lady;'of me, his sister, doubtless, he said nothing. What little there was incommon between us was not much tempered with love and good-humour.'
'Alas, Plautia, take what there is! I want it not--I would give it ahundred times over to gain one kind look from your eyes. He was yourbrother--born of the same mother--to me he was more than a brother. There helies before us. Cannot his dead body, bereft of likes and dislikes, softenyour heart to me who loved him most?'
'Martialis, you knew his intention before this night,' said she,disregarding his pleading tone as she would the whining of a dog.
'No, before Heaven--or maybe we had never seen this bitter night.'
''Tis strange, and you two secretless friends, as I have heard you say.'
'This, at least, was dark to me, as to every one else, until he drank fromyon fatal cup and fell back where he lies.'
Plautia took up the cup from the table where Charicles had placed it, and,with a natural curiosity, smelled at it, as he had done.
'Take care!' ejaculated Martialis, as the golden rim seemed to graze herripe lips. 'There is yet sufficient left to harm more than one--so thephysician has said--beware lest a drop smear thy lip.'
'Tush, Martialis!--I am not so tired of life,' she replied contemptuously,setting down the goblet; 'who comes?'
'Festus, the lawyer, or thy uncle, Sabellus.'
'Festus?'
He pointed to the box, and, at the same time, an old man entered,wrinkled, grave, and thin. He made a profound obeisance, and then lookedinquiringly from one to the other.
'Martialis summoned thee, he hath need of thee, Festus,' exclaimed Plautiahaughtily; and, passing to the door, she summoned the domestics.
'It is true I sent for thee,' said Martialis briefly.
'This is a woeful sight,' said the lawyer, as the slaves crowded in, and,under the directions of the lady, lifted their dead master and bore himaway to his own room. 'It was only this very morn that I saw him and spokewith him in the forum of Caesar, as well and content as ever he was, toall seeming.'
Martialis took the key of the casket and placed it in the lawyer's hand.
'Open the box--it was the gift of Apicius to me, his friend.'
Plautia took up her position on one of the couches, stretching hermagnificent form on the place and cushions which had before been occupiedby Sejanus the Prefect. The long, loose, flowing drapery of the Romanfemale clung and moulded itself to the voluptuous curves of her figure.Gems and trinkets of gold glittered amid the wreathed and plaited massesof her bluish-black hair, and numberless jewels flashed upon the fingersof her dainty white hands. Her features were slightly aquiline, butperfect and delicate in outline, and her ivory-like skin was warm andglowing with the tints of a ripe peach. With her bold, imperious, blackorbs she looked like a queen as she reclined, the most apt and brilliantcentrepiece of that apartment of gorgeous splendour
.
The grave, elderly Festus, as he opened the casket, cast at her a glancefilled with admiration. Martialis buried his face in his hands, as iffearful of allowing his hungry eyes to rest upon her, except at intervals,when the matter in hand called for some remark.
When the lawyer opened the casket he found therein several papers. Afterglancing at each in turn, he took one up and said, 'This is the will of M.Gabius Apicius, bequeathing his property solely to Caius Julius Martialis,knight, his friend.'
'Read!' said that unhappy personage in a hollow tone.
Festus obeyed. The task was brief and did not occupy many minutes. Theremaining papers were found to be informal inventories of effects.Martialis bade him read them also. They were long; including, as they did,everything of value in the house. Plautia signified her impatience longbefore it was ended, and, during its progress, a slave entered to announcethat Sabellus of the Aventine was not to be found.
When the wearisome monotone of the lawyer at length ceased, Martialisraised his pale face from his hands.
'Ah!' exclaimed the lawyer suddenly; 'here I find the value of the wholecomputed. Deducting the debts due, and a few minor bequests, the balanceamounts to an estimate of ten thousand sestertia.'(3)
Plautia started on her cushions at the statement.
'What!' she demanded, contracting her fine black brows; 'ten thousandsestertia, free?'
'Absolutely, as the will expressly states,' replied Festus. 'The wholetotal reaches a huger sum, but there are debts, as before mentioned. Nomoney is spoken of--these inventories must be realised.'
'Was this the poverty he fled from? Why, it is a fortune--a heaven to thegreater part of mankind!' she exclaimed.
'Ay, but not to the mind of Apicius,' interrupted the voice of Martialis;'for remember--scarce a coined piece within his coffers. Everything gonebut what the walls of the house compass. Had Apicius lived it wasnecessary to live as hitherto. To do that he must needs have despoiled hishome--the noblest in Rome--of its treasures. Rather than strike, to all, thenote of disgrace and ruin, he did as he did. It was pride, not fear--it istoo plain. But small or great as the remnant may seem to thee, Plautia,thou art his nearest of kin--to thee, therefore, it belongs. I have noclaim but what the love of a friend has given me. I render it up--take ittherefore.'
'A noble deed!' quoth Festus.
The glance of Plautia softened a little, and she held out her jewelled,white hand to the young man. With eyes aflame he seized it, and covered itwith kisses.
'It is truly high-minded and generous of thee, Martialis,' she said.
'Take it--I need it not!' he answered eagerly.
'Foolish!' she rejoined, drawing her hand away and accompanying her wordswith a mocking smile. 'Bid Festus teach thee to be wiser than robthyself.'
'It is a question for his own heart to decide,' remarked the lawyer,replacing the papers in the box.
'Festus has done his part and I will keep him no longer--say no more!' saidMartialis.
The lawyer rose at this hint, and at the same moment a voice came from thedoorway. Looking thither they beheld a tall cloaked figure standing in thedoorway, regarding them and their surroundings with keen eyes.
Martialis started. 'Lucius!' he exclaimed.
'Even so, brother,' returned the new-comer.
It was indeed the Centurion, bearing the stains of hard travel on hisgarments and a jaded air on his face.
Plautia rose to her feet. Her cheeks were suffused with a sudden flood ofcrimson, and her bosom stirred her tunic with deeper and more rapidpulsations. A delicious tremor seemed to melt her natural stateliness ofcarriage. Her eyes, so full of haughtiness and will, encountering the calmgaze of the Pretorian, sank like a timid child's, shaded beneath a deepsweeping fringe of eyelashes.
A deadly sickness crept about the heart of Caius Martialis, for hissenses, preternaturally sharpened, saw all.
'Do you seek me?' he demanded, scarcely able, or caring, to conceal thebitterness of his tones.
The Centurion dropped his cloak from his shoulder and stepped forward,whilst, at the same time, Festus, the lawyer, glided from the room.
The resemblance between the brothers was traceable in the mould of theirfeatures. But, whilst those of the soldier were scarcely so finely carvedas were his elder brother's, they were considerably more manly anddecided. The expression of spirit and determination which wascharacteristic of his bronzed face and fearless glance, were lessperceptible on the countenance of the civilian. The vigour and robustnessof the younger eminently fitted him to press forward in the battle andstrife of the world; whilst the characteristics of the elder were of amore delicate organisation, which seeks the calmer atmosphere and placidoccupations of retirement and study. The personal appearance of theCenturion, which has already been alluded to, spoke for his habits. Hiscommanding stature, rude health and strength and perfection of physicaltraining were all at the service of the readiness and resource of mindwhich seemed to lie charactered in the glances of his eyes. On the otherhand, the person of Caius was medium-sized, and the signs of habitualease, indulgence, luxury and pleasure, were only too plainly stamped onhis face, to the deep injury of its native nobleness and delicacy.
'Do you seek me?' said the latter.
'No--I seek the Prefect. Not at the camp, I was directed to follow himhere. No porter in the lodge to tell me--no slave visible. I found a lighthere--if I have intruded I am grieved, but you paid no attention to myknock.'
'Sejanus has left some time ago--a long time.'
'Whither, then, Caius, do you know?'
'No--nor care--faith not I!' was the careless and somewhat uncourteousanswer.
'You have travelled far?' broke in Plautia's voice; deeper, softer, andmore melodious than hitherto.
'I have, Plautia, and I trust the Prefect will not lead me much farther.'
'Whence have you come? You are fatigued--I see it in your face. You must,then, have ridden a prodigious distance; for your fame, as a horseman, hasreached even me. You are a very centaur, so rumour tells me.'
'Rumour tells many idle and foolish things, but, as I have posted fiftyleagues without stopping, save to change horses, since my last briefresting-place, I may claim to feel somewhat weary. I am thirsty too--withyour leave, I will drink a cup of wine with infinite relish.'
He turned toward the sideboard where the wine-flagons stood; but, ere hecould take a second step, she glided past him, and selecting one of thevessels, raised it with her own hands. Caius looked on and gnawed his lip.
'I will be my own cupbearer,' cried the Centurion; 'you do me too muchhonour, lady.'
As he relieved her of the pitcher, he would have been scarcely human notto have dwelt with admiration on her brilliant beauty, which was unusuallyflushed and animated. She parted with the jar, and, at the same time,flashed a glowing glance upon him with her lustrous eyes.
He turned round from those dangerous orbs to fill with the wine thenearest cup which stood on the table. The eyes of his brother Caiussuddenly gleamed with a hard, steel-like glint, and his face turned,simultaneously, deathly white. Lucius half turned as he raised to drinkfrom the cup he had filled. The bumper had barely reached his lips when ascream burst from the throat of Plautia. With the cry she sprang forwardand dashed the vessel from his hand on to the polished floor. The winesplashed them both and the goblet fell with such violence as to be dented.It was that one which had already played such a fatal part that night.
Transfixed with astonishment the Centurion gazed upon the beautiful girl,whose face crimsoned and paled, and whose bosom heaved and felltumultuously.
'It was the cup--the poisoned cup!' ejaculated she.
'The poisoned cup!' cried he, looking with increased surprise from one tothe other.
A terrible revulsion of feeling swept through, and shook, the frame of theelder Martialis. At the look of his brother he gave a hysterical gasp anddropped his head into his hands.
Plautia pointed to the fallen goblet with an impressive ge
sture, and said,'It has already taken the life of one man this night. Had you drunktherefrom you would have shared his fate. That cup yet reeks of the fataldrug. Though I saw you not fill it, fortune be praised that my poor eyesperceived it ere your lips touched its horrid brim.'
'How, the death of a man?' repeated the bewildered Centurion.
'Even so! From that very cup at the close of this night's feast,' saidshe, waving her hand over the glittering disorder of the table, 'Apicius,of his own will, drank a poisoned draught.'
The young soldier was horror-struck. He looked around and shuddered.
'Apicius--poisoned himself!' he muttered. 'This is a dreadful tale--and forwhat reason, in the name of the gods?'
'Your brother can tell you better than I--he was his bosom friend, and,moreover, was present,' answered Plautia, turning away, as if to hide asudden burst of feeling.
'Nay!' said Lucius hastily, and with deep sympathy, 'I will trouble you nomore with my presence. I will learn, in sad time enough, the terribletale--I would spare you the pain of a fresh recital. Alas, I dreamt notwhat had happened, and yet I remarked it strange that Apicius was nothere. You will pardon me, Plautia. 'Tis a sudden and bitterblow--farewell!'
He gathered up his cloak, and, as he turned to the door, he spurned thegoblet with his foot, muttering some expressions of abhorrence anddisgust.
'Stay, Centurion,' said Plautia, 'go not without quenching your thirst. IfI was lucky enough to rob you of your first draught, here is wine enough,and of the purest.'
While she spoke, she quickly filled another drinking vessel with wine andwater.
'See,' she said, coming forward with it, 'I will be answerable for it.Drink without fear--I will be your taster.'
She accordingly drank two or three mouthfuls and offered him the ampleremainder. He drank as briefly as herself and merely out of courtesy.
'You said you were thirsty.'
'I _was_. It seems to have left me.'
'Had you drunk before, you would have been, now, far beyond all thirst onearth.'
'I am indebted to your keen eye and prompt arm for my life, therefore. Itrust chance may enable me, some day, to repay the debt.'
'Tush, Centurion, you are jesting. You, the Pretorian Achilles,acknowledging to the hand of a weak girl!'
The young man bowed coldly, for the style of the speech was not veryagreeable to his mind.
'Farewell, Plautia. I trust you may speedily find comfort in youraffliction. Do you come, brother? My way lies with yours for a space.'
Caius shook his head.
'Nay!' said Plautia, 'he must remain, where my brother hath left him, incharge. But I will beg your escort, Centurion, as far as you will give it,through the streets; for I came hither in haste, with scarce a follower.'
'That shall be my task, Plautia. It belongs to me rather than to him,'interposed Caius, starting up fiercely.
'To whomsoever I choose to give it,' said the lady, with an accent ofsupreme haughtiness.
'It must be as Caius says, nevertheless,' observed the Centurion quickly.'I have that about me which must be delivered without further delay, and Ihave dallied too long already. Forgive me the discourtesy, lady, for myduty must take me back to the camp, in such direction and haste as wouldprove inconvenient to you. It is unavoidable, and I must risk yourdispleasure in deference to my business. Farewell!'
Bowing toward her, the Pretorian abruptly left the apartment and thehouse. Plautia bit her lip and clenched her hand; and, when the voice ofCaius uttered some remark, she turned suddenly and fiercely upon him. Sheshot a basilisk glance upon him and pointed, without a word, to thejewelled cup on the floor. His cheek paled and his eyes wavered, andfinally fell before the incisive eloquence of her look and gesture.
He essayed to speak and move toward her, but an imperious wave of her handrooted him to his place in confusion. The next instant she was gone, andhe was left, once more alone, to wrestle with the tortures of remorse,jealousy, and despair, which writhed together on the cold background ofhis grief.
His brother, on quitting the gloomy house of Apicius, turned his tirelesssteps toward the permanent fortified camp, or barracks, which had beenformed by the present emperor to accommodate the household troops, on thenorth-east edge of the city, beyond the slope of the Viminal and Esquilineand the wall of Servius. His road lay tolerably straight across the city,under the Carinae, partly through the Subura, and finally along the VicusPatricius, which followed the valley between the Esquiline and Viminalhills. Then, directly in front of him, rose the ramparts and walls whichharboured about ten thousand horse and foot.
The origin of these celebrated troops is said to rest with ScipioAfricanus, who, in the first instance, formed a company of picked men toguard his person. This cohort was exempted from all other duty and wasgranted larger pay. Their number was increased from time to time, untilthe Emperor Augustus established them in cohorts of a thousand men each,horse and foot, to protect his power and person. They were chosen onlyfrom Italy and the old colonies, and we have already hinted at theirsuperior privileges, pay, and equipment. Careful to avoid any appearanceof despotism, Augustus retained only a small portion of them in Rome, andscattered the rest among the neighbouring towns. It remained for the fearsor craft of the Emperor, his successor, from whom our young Centurion nowbore a despatch in his breast, to assemble them all into one body withintheir strong, fortified camp in Rome, thus fairly starting them on theirfuture path, in which they rivalled the janissaries of the easternemperors in making and unmaking the rulers of the empire.
Of these troops Sejanus was the commander, and entering the camp, theCenturion proceeded to his quarters to find, to his satisfaction, that hissearch was at an end.
Sejanus was sitting thoughtfully in a chair, with his brows contracted anddeep lines furrowing his forehead.
'Ah, Martialis!' he cried eagerly, as his eyes rested on the form of hisofficer; 'I heard you had returned.'
'I followed you, Prefect, to the Palatine,' replied Lucius.
'To the Palatine! Ah, then you must know what has happened there. It willbe all over Rome to-morrow. You have a despatch?'
He held out his hand, and the Centurion placed a sealed letter therein.
Turning his back on the messenger, the Prefect tore open the cover andread the contents by the soft light of a silver lamp, which barelyilluminated the luxurious apartment. Pleasure and delight straightwaybroke over his face like the first light of dawn shooting athwart the darkearth. He perused the epistle twice, and smoothed his countenance ere heturned to the waiting Centurion.
'You have been an expeditious courier, as usual, my Lucius,' he said, in abrisk, elated tone. 'When did you leave Capreae?'
Martialis related the time and particulars of his journey.
'Thou art made of iron, I verily believe,' returned the Prefect smilingly;'after such fatigue I am loth to use thee again. I work thee too hard; butthere is another service imminent, and I would have none perform it butwhom I could trust.'
'I am ready. What fatigue I feel will pass with a night's rest,' answeredhis officer.
'What should I do without thee? It is the willing horse gets ever the mostwork; but this matter is particular.'
Then before he told his officer the nature of the service required, heproceeded to put to him a number of questions in relation to hisexperiences during his mission. When he had exhausted his ingenuityconcerning everything he could think of, pertaining to matters in theimperial household, he relapsed into silent reflection for a few minutes,during which he paced up and down the room.
'Centurion!' he said, at length, 'Drusus leaves Capreae and comes to Romeshortly. To-morrow, after nightfall, take a troop of twenty men and rideto Ostia. Drusus will arrive there in a galley. You must stop it andarrest him. Bring him to Rome, under guard, at night, and place him incharge of the keeper of the palace on the Palatine. All will be inreadiness to receive him. Be careful and secret. Leave and enter the cityby night; and, when you have completed
your mission, hasten to report thesame to me without delay. Now to bed!'
Martialis was not loth to obey, and, seeking his room, was in a fewminutes sleeping the profound slumber of tired limbs, an easy conscience,and bright hopes.
Neæra: A Tale of Ancient Rome Page 4
