CHAPTER XXIV.
It would have greatly relieved the distracted mind of Martialis, had heknown that he occupied the Emperor's thoughts to a far greater degree thanhis beloved Neaera. The brilliant beauty and wit of Plautia was too far inthe ascendant, at present, in the Imperial heart to admit of a rival,especially one of such a different type.
To Neaera, when she had been dismissed to safe keeping, Tiberius gave, forthe time, no further heed. Weightier matters engaged him, and very shortlyafter the conclusion of the scene described in the last chapter, he rosefrom the supper-table and returned to his own apartment, from which hedismissed every one.
Suspicion and dissimulation equipoised the Imperial mind. The former fedthe latter, and both were unutterably profound. Only the day before he hadyielded to the importunities of the Prefect, and had consented to give himhis daughter-in-law in marriage. Sejanus retired in joy, with everythingarranged for his early reception into the Imperial family. His plans, longand carefully followed up, were now well-nigh matured, and he laughed inhis sleeve at the earnest, trustful affection which the Emperor haddisplayed very liberally toward him. He was not aware of the fact that hedaily and hourly filled the buried thoughts of the old man--thoughts whichtrusted nobody; that his own eager ambition was blinding him, and actuallysupplying a fatal web for a subtler mind than his own to weave around him.
The close attention which the Emperor devoted to the Prefect, by a naturalsequence, could not fail to follow the person of the Prefect's favouriteofficer. If not so familiar with Martialis personally, he was well-informed by report in all concerning him. Up to the moment when theCenturion hurriedly accounted for his movements, the mind of Tiberius wassmouldering with passion, on the point of breaking into a fierce flame ofsummary vengeance for the unparalleled temerity of a reckless invasion ofhis privacy. At that particular moment his craft seized like lightningupon an idea; his wrath sank subordinate, and became a mere simulation. Weshall presently see how his subtle conjectures were realised. For thetime, however, Martialis was spared, providing his own stubbornnesspresented no further obstacle to lenience. His personal attributes, hisfearless, soldierly defiance, reached a vein of sympathy which yet liveddormant, far down in the depths of the tyrant's heart. In his youthTiberius himself had been comely, tall of stature, strong of limb, andskilled in hardy exercises; therefore the handsome face and athletic form,the extraordinary strength, skill, and address of the young officer, hadnot failed to arouse his secret admiration. The downfall of his giganticNubian struck him with wonder, and relit a ray of the joys of the palaestraof his own youthful days. But more grateful than this to his suspiciousnature, was the conclusion he drew from the frank, fearless countenanceand the simple faith of the Pretorian. Such a man might be invaluable, andhe determined that he should not be uselessly butchered, if it could beprofitably avoided. When Zeno stooped, and whisperingly reminded him ofthe fact of the existence of a door, but seldom used, and hidden by thecurtain, immediately behind the position of Martialis, he assented eagerlyto the suggestion, which, we have seen, was carried out successfully.
So far all had gone fortunately. The Emperor withdrew; and, from the darkexpression of his face, it was readily inferred that the culprit wouldhave short shrift.
When alone, however, in his apartment, and safe from every eye, his mienaltered. Fits of abstraction and restless pacings of the room passed thesilent time, and as the hour of midnight approached, his impatience andnervousness grew more marked. Several times his hand rested on a smallsilver bell as if to ring, and, as often, after a few moments ofindecision, with his ears strained to catch the least sound in the deepstillness, he turned away. Occasionally he went to one corner of the room,and, drawing back a curtain, placed his ear close against the wall for afew moments. Thence he would return to his seat and his book, for a space,to leave them by and by for another excursion. Many varied positions heoccupied, now sitting, now reclining, now ambling hither and thither,impelled by the pains of impatience and anxiety. Trifling with thisobject, touching that, lifting and examining another, half unconsciously,his state of nervous unrest, finding full vent within the deaf andsightless walls of his retreat, was a wonderful relaxation from theinscrutable impassiveness of his public demeanour.
Midnight had barely passed, when two or three taps proceeded from thatcorner of the room where he had often paid a visit, and bent a listeningear. His face cleared instantly, and he stepped at once toward the sound.Stooping down he pressed a particular spot in the angle of the wall, and anarrow, secret panel, wholly indistinguishable before, shot silently andswiftly upward. Through the opening stepped Zeno.
'Well?' said Tiberius sharply; 'at last! I have waited almost beyond mypatience.'
'I have not lingered one second longer than I could possibly help,'replied the Greek; 'to have come sooner would have been rash.'
'Is all safe now?'
'Quite--he is off as sound as can be.'
'And you are sure that no soul has passed from the palace outwards sincesupper?'
'Especial orders were given to all the guards.'
'Come, then!'
They stepped through the secret opening and drew down the shutter afterthem. It closed with a subdued, but clear 'click,' which denoted thehidden instrumentality of a highly-perfected spring. Zeno went on firstwith the lamp. They descended two narrow winding flights of steps cut inthe rock; and at their foot, another door, as cunningly contrived andhidden away, gave way to their potent touch in the same mysterious manner.They were now in a wider gallery, all rock-hewn and faced with brick. Oneither side were ranged doors; and, at a little distance away, a lamp hungfrom the ceiling, like a yellow beacon light struggling with thesubterranean gloom. Immediately beneath this lamp Zeno halted before adoor.
'Are there none but ourselves below?' muttered Tiberius.
'No one,' returned Zeno; 'I despatched every one on one pretence andanother, and having seen all clear, locked up the main outlet myself.'
The steward pushed with his finger one of the many iron studs or bolt-heads which strengthened the door. It slid back a couple of inches anddisclosed a small peep-hole, through which he peered. Satisfied with hisscrutiny he unlocked the door and they went in. The chamber was abouttwelve feet square, and furnished with a small tripod stand, a stool, anda pallet bed. From the ceiling hung a lamp which threw down a dismal lighton the cheerless place.
On the bed was stretched the form of Martialis in careless grace, with onesinewy arm hanging down at length over the pallet-side, toward the floor.His appearance was corpse-like. His closed eyes, his bold, handsomefeatures, his dark hair curling crisply over his brow, seemed all fixed inthe tranquil marble beauty of the early moments of death. Not a breathseemed to part his moulded lips, and the steel cuirass which encased hisbody hid effectually all sign of movement beneath. Tiberius started andturned a frowning, inquiring glance on his companion. Zeno pointed to somevictuals and an empty pitcher which stood on the small stand.
'He has eaten nothing and drunk every drop--he will give no trouble.'
'How--have you killed him?' demanded the Emperor sternly.
'Ah no, Caesar--the drug was harmless for that, but potent enough to makehim no better than a clod for some hours; and a mercy for him, as youwould say, had you seen his state of mind. We may do what we please withhim.'
The steward spoke the truth, for, in the handling to which the inanimatePretorian was subjected, he exhibited no symptom of consciousness.Underneath his cuirass they found a stout leather belt buckled round hiswaist. Attached to the belt was a pouch securely fastened, and from thisthe Emperor drew several scrolls of papyri--the paper of the ancients, madefrom the Egyptian plant of that name. Taking these to the lamp on thetripod, Tiberius turned his back on his trusty steward, and proceeded tounroll them with eager trembling fingers. He glanced through the writtencontents of each with a rapid practised eye, but found nothing therein,save dry official reports from the deputy in command of th
e Pretorian campat Rome. His countenance fell gradually as he proceeded, and when hearrived at the end, he gave vent to a muttered ejaculation ofdisappointment. One other scroll remained, which was not of an officialnature, but evidently a late production of a bookseller's shop.
It may be as well to explain that the book of the Romans in no pointresembled that of modern days, inasmuch as binding and pages formed nocomponent parts. The work of a Roman author was written on one continuousstrip of papyrus or parchment, of more or less length. This was rolledround a stick of appropriate size in the same manner as a modern map orchart, the exterior being neatly finished and lettered with the title ofthe book. It is probable enough that the latter was also exhibited on aticket attached to the end of the roll, as affording a readier means ofascertaining any particular book, when laid together on the shelves of thelibrary, or dropped endwise into the circular boxes used for theirtransport.
The remaining roll or book, which the Emperor now took up, was sheathed ina purple parchment covering. Sliding off the latter, he found the volumeto be of a nature he had already guessed with the accuracy of experience.It was a satire, a _vers-de-societe_, by one of the poetasters of the day,and very showily got up. As the outer sheath was removed a small slip ofpaper fell out. It was an epistle, which ran as follows:--
'Knowing you must at times feel dull with an out-of-the-world feeling, I have sent the accompanying volume in the hope it may prove acceptable; it is only small, and will not add much to the bulk and weight of your despatches. It is the last new thing by Varius, and quite the rage. I have a very poor opinion of the composition myself; but, as an elegant and artistic specimen of the publisher's workmanship, I think it is as admirable as any I have yet seen--even to the mute wood itself, whose ornamentation you will find well worthy of examination. It is mournful to think that the bookmaker's art should be so needed nowadays to eke out an author's want of wit.'
Now it happened that Tiberius, who was very devoted to literature, hadalready perused the satire he now held. Every new publication of the citywas punctually forwarded to him, as might be expected. He, therefore,unrolled the paper, which was about a yard and a half in length, and sixor eight inches wide, and glanced his eye down the beautifully characteredeffusion. There was also a portrait of the author included on the scroll;but as it was all identical with what he had already seen, he passed itover and bestowed more attention upon the wooden roller, to observe ifthere was anything about it worthy of more particular notice than he hadbefore given to the one in his own possession. The little roller was plainand coloured black, but each end was ornamented with a boss, rather ofconical shape, carved and picked out with brilliant colours. Tiberiusgazed at it and strove to compare it mentally with his own specimen. Heread the accompanying letter again, and tried hard to discover thepeculiar beauties of the wooden cylinder, so particularly recommended. Hefailed to perceive anything extraordinary, but there seemed to besomething in the bulk thereof which struck him as unusual. Turning toZeno, he despatched him to his library to bring him his own copy. TheGreek soon returned, and Tiberius compared the two volumes. They wereexactly similar, being copies of the same edition; but, when he placed thewooden cylinders together, he saw at once there was a difference in theircircumferences. That which belonged to the Prefect was very perceptiblythicker; but, as the bosses affixed to the ends remained the same size, itfollowed, that the margin of the projection was less in the Prefect's thanhis own. The Emperor knitted his brows, and riveted his gaze on the twocylinders in profound meditation. Then he once more studied the namelessepistle to refresh his memory; after which he bestowed another examinationon the books. Something in the relative weights of the cylinders seemed tostrike him, so, arranging the rolls of paper to which they were attachedas to interfere as little as possible, he balanced the rollers on the tipsof his fingers of both hands. Then, as if dubious, he called in the aid ofZeno, briefly pointing out the facts of the case. The Greek took thecylinders into his own hands, and after minutely examining them, heweighed them as his master had done. For a further test he tapped thethicker roller with a little metal key, and listened attentively to thesound. Then he balanced them again, and finally gave it as his opinion,that the thicker roller was lighter than the smaller one, and, moreover,sounded as though it were hollow. The eyes of Emperor and stewardexchanged a significant flash.
'Such a condition is neither usual nor necessary,' said Tiberius. 'Let ustry and discover the reason.'
The Greek took the suspected cylinder into his long supple fingers, andmade a very minute scrutiny of the junction of the bosses at either end.Then, by patient and delicate, but firm manipulation, he proceeded to tryif they were detachable. After a considerable amount of persuasive forceof handling, one of the bosses yielded a hair's-breadth. He renewed hisefforts, and the Emperor's eyes glistened. The boss became looser andlooser, and in a minute's time came off altogether. They were now enabledto perceive that the original bosses had been fitted to a new cylinder.That one which had been removed, instead of being affixed in the usual wayto a flat surface, had been hollowed a little to receive the end of theroller, and then tightened with a thin application of glue. The roller, asZeno had suspected, was hollow. He turned it upside down and a littlescroll of very thin paper dropped out. The fingers of the Emperor closedon it like lightning. His eyes flamed with a ferocious delight as hecarefully unrolled a few inches of the fragile document and read therein.
'Haste--bring tablets, paper, anything--like the wind!' he whisperedexcitedly. Zeno hastened away, and Tiberius, huddling against the lamp,devoured the contents of the secret missive with eyes starting from hishead, and mouth agape in astonishment. Rage, hate, and delirious joythrilled him as he read. His hands, his body, and his limbs trembled withthe force of his excitement. Swiftly reading to the close, he dropped thelittle quivering paper, and laughed with triumph. Startled by his ownvoice he looked fearfully round at Martialis; but the Centurion laydeathlike in the profound stupor of his drugged slumbers. With uneasy,hasty steps the Emperor paced the narrow dungeon, muttering inaudiblyuntil Zeno entered with writing materials. Then he sat down to make a copyof the secret, and evidently fateful, missive intended for the eyes of thePrefect alone.
The task occupied longer than it would otherwise have done, owing to theagitated mind and trembling fingers of the writer; but at length it cameto an end. The original letter was restored to its hiding-place in theroller, and the boss skilfully replaced by Zeno, who carefully heated theincrusted glue over the flame of the lamp to cause it to hold firmly.
The documents were then replaced in the pouch of the Centurion, and hisdress arranged without a sign to show that he had been tampered with.
'Send to the Prefect with the first light of day, and acquaint him withthe position of his courier and the causes thereof,' said Tiberius. 'Hewill, without doubt, attend personally--let him see his messenger if hewishes, and obtain his despatches with his own hands. When that is doneand he is gone, I will see this youth myself. We have made a good night'swork--you will find it to your benefit as to mine--now to bed!'
Neæra: A Tale of Ancient Rome Page 35
