CHAPTER VI.
Whilst this conversation, which we have related, was passing between Aferand his client, a small coasting vessel was ascending the river Tiber,making slow headway against the current. In the little poop-house, alongwith the captain of the craft, was standing Masthlion, an interestedobserver of all that passed within view, as they wound up the famousstream.
To go back a little. We left the potter retiring to rest full of adetermination to proceed to Rome. He arose next morning with a mindunchanged, and soon after dawn took his way to the cliffs. As he was aboutto set his foot to descend the steps which led down to the Marina, thehead of an ascending individual showed up above the level. He was a short,thick-set man, with a mahogany complexion, shaggy beard and moustache.Each made an exclamation and then shook hands.
'I was coming with no other reason than to seek tidings of you, Silo.'
'Good!--here I am myself, Masthlion.'
'I thought it about your time. Are you for the Tiber?'
'Direct.'
'When?'
'At noon, or before. I don't want to lose this wind,' said the sailor,casting his eye to the eastward.
'I have business in Rome--give me a passage.'
'In Rome! You? What has bitten you? Come, and welcome.'
'I will come about noon then.'
'An hour before, Masthlion; and if I want thee before that I will send.'
The potter went home, and after gathering a few articles of clothing andfood together in a wallet, he quietly resumed work until the time came fordeparture. During this period Neaera glided into the workshop. A new andradiant expression beamed on her face and sparkled in her beautiful grayeyes. The delicate colour of her cheek was deeper. An unconscious smileseemed to play on her lips, as though responding to the springs of joy andhope within. The loosely-girded tunic of coarse, poor fabric could nothide the graceful curves of her lithe figure, which promised a splendidmaturity. Her household work had caused her to tuck up her sleeves, andher revealed arms and wrists gleamed white and round. Her lovelinessseemed to the potter literally to bloom afresh as he glanced at her.
'Father,' said she, 'you are going to Rome?'
'I am, child, and Silo's felucca sails by noon at the latest,' heanswered, without raising his head.
'You are going because of me, father?' she continued, drawing nearer.
He did not answer.
'It is I who am sending you to Rome, father?'
'You have said it, child. But I shall, at the same time, satisfy alifelong desire to see the great city; and I may be able, likewise, topick up a hint or two from the Roman shops.'
'As far as I am concerned, father, you need not give yourself thetrouble.'
'Wherefore?' asked the potter, in doubt as to her meaning.
'Because I can save you the journey.'
Masthlion smiled.
'You go to seek to know whether Lucius be a true man or false,' shecontinued, with animation and a heightened colour; 'you may stay at home,for I can tell you.'
'And whence did you gain the knowledge I am truly in want of, child?' hesaid.
'Here!' she answered proudly, as she laid her hand over her heart.
A smile of admiration, and yet compassionate, rested on her father's lips,as he gazed into her kindling eyes, and watched the glowing hues spreadover her exquisite face. New graces, fresh nobility and dignity, unknownbefore, seemed to blossom forth upon the maiden beneath his wonderingeyes. His acute brain comprehended the change; it was no longer the child,but the woman.
'The foolish heart is so often mistaken, Neaera,' he said, touched by hersimple faith; 'it would not be wise to trust entirely thereto.'
But she only shook her head.
'Facts are against you,' he continued; 'how many have acted from theirimpulse and have lived to use their eyes and minds soberly afterwards? Butno,--no more of that! I had rather try and bale the bed of the sea dry thanattempt to cure a lovesick girl of her folly. Meanwhile, I shall go toRome, as I intended, and try to satisfy my own mind, after the fashion ofcold, heartless men.'
'You expect to come back with bad news of Lucius, and thus forbid me tothink of him again.'
'That I never said.'
'No, but you think it. I warn you that you will be disappointed, and thatyour journey will go for nothing.'
As she said this, she wound her arms caressingly round his neck, and thenslipped from the room.
Masthlion's eyes dulled, as though a reflected gleam had vanished, and,heaving a sigh, he meditatively pursued his work. It was about an hourbefore noon when a young urchin made his appearance with a message fromSilo, to hasten him on board, without delay. He went, accompanied by hiswife and Neaera; and as soon as he set foot on board the coaster, hisimpatient friend cast off and hoisted sail.
The fair wind blew, and Silo, the sturdy skipper, was thoroughly amiable.A fair wind and a good cargo, homeward bound, would render even a nauticalCaliban gracious.
Next morning they passed round the long mole, or breakwater, of the portof Ostia, which lay at the mouth of the Tiber, and, thereon, Masthlion'seyes noticed a tall soldierly figure, standing and evidently watching themkeenly. Beneath the closely wrapped cloak the surprised potter recognisedthe proportions and carriage of his daughter's lover, and was even closeenough to make out, or fancy he did, the young man's features, beneath hispolished crested helmet. Assuring himself on this point, the potter shrankfarther within the cover of the poop-house, until all danger ofrecognition had passed.
Toward evening they arrived at their destination, which was the emporiumof Rome, situated under the shadow of the Aventine Mount. Thus theSurrentine found himself, at once, in the midst of one of the busiestlocalities of the imperial city. Wharves lined the river, and warehousesextended along the banks. Here were the corn, the timber, the marble, thestone, the thousand species of merchandise from the ends of the earthlanded and stored. And hither, to the markets, assembled the buyers andsellers thereof. The air was full of the noise and bustle on shore andship. Waggons rumbled and clattered to and fro, and weather-beaten seamenabounded. Through the maze Silo guided Masthlion, whose provincial senseswere oppressed and weighted by the unaccustomed roar and bustle into whichhe had been suddenly plunged, and the shipmaster, with amused glances athis wondering companion, hurried him along the river-side, nearly as faras the Trigeminan Gate. Here, not far from the spot where stood the altarof Evander, the oldest legendary monument of Rome, the sailor entered atavern. It was an old building, with the unmistakable evidences of asubstantial reputation; for it was well filled with customers, and wasalive with all the bustle of a flourishing business. To the hard-faced,keen-eyed proprietor of this establishment, who greeted Silo withfamiliarity, the shipmaster presented his friend, in need of comfortablelodgings for a time, and having seen him comfortably bestowed, returned tothe business of his coaster and cargo.
After Masthlion was satisfied with a good meal, a young lad, the son ofthe landlord, was commissioned to guide him, on a stroll through theadjacent parts of the city, as far as the decreasing light of day wouldallow. On returning, he found his friend Silo released from hisengagements, and together they passed the evening.
'Know you anything of the Pretorians?' asked Masthlion of the innkeeper,ere he retired to his bed.
'I know they are camped on the far side of the city, beyond the Viminal,'replied the lusty-tongued publican, 'I know that Caesar brought them theresome years ago, and that Sejanus is their Prefect--who is, betweenourselves, you know, a greater man in Rome than Caesar himself. All this Iknow, and what is left is, that they are a set of overpaid, underworked,overdressed, conceited, stuck-up, strutting puppies. That's about as muchas I can tell you of them.'
'Ah!' said Masthlion, somewhat disheartened by these bluff, energeticwords, which were delivered with a readiness and confidence, as ifexpressing a generally received opinion; 'then have you in Rome a poet byname Balbus?'
'A poet named Balbus!' r
epeated the host, with a comical look; 'faith, butpoetry is a trade I never meddled with, and I am on the wrong side of theAventine, where sailors and traders swarm, and not poets. I doubt not,worthy Masthlion, that poets abound in Rome, for Rome is a very largeplace, I warrant you. But you must go and seek them elsewhere. What,gentlemen! does any one know of a poet named Balbus in Rome?' cried heabruptly, putting his head inside of a room tolerably well filled withdrinkers.
A laugh arose at the question. 'North, south, east, or west?' cried one.
'Scarce as gladiators,' shouted another; 'the times have starved them.'
'Nothing can starve them--the poets, I mean,' answered a thin dry voice,which seemed to quell the merriment for a space, 'they are as thick asbees in the porticoes and baths of Agrippa. Your Balbus, not being there,landlord, enter the bookshops and you will find as many more, readingtheir own books, since nobody else will. You will find plenty of Balbi, beassured, but no poets--Horace was the last----'
Laughter drowned the remainder of his speech, and the landlord withdrewhis head into the passage, where Masthlion was awaiting.
'Balbus the poet does not seem to be very well known,' he said to thepotter. 'But what do these rough swinkers know of these things any morethan myself? Nevertheless, he says true, and you might do worse thaninquire at the bookshops, the baths and porticoes, where the men of thecalamus and inkpot love to air the wit they have scraped together bylamplight in their garrets at home.'
The potter, thereupon, retired with an uneasy feeling of helplessness andhopelessness filling his mind, at least as far as regarded Balbus.
Next morning he sallied forth soon after dawn, determined to make theutmost use of his time. He made an arrangement, by which he was again tohave the services of his young guide of the previous evening, feeling thathe would thus save himself much time and labour. In about three hours'time he had walked a long distance. He had passed along the principalstreets in the centre of the city. He had gazed at the shops andbuildings. He had mounted the Palatine and Capitoline Hills; had viewedmany temples, porticoes and mansions, and from a lofty point had surveyedthe city, spread below, with delight and admiration. Then, deeming it timeto be about his business, he gave the order to proceed to the Pretoriancamp.
Neæra: A Tale of Ancient Rome Page 6
