CHAPTER XXX
"Strait is the gate, and narrow is the way...."--ST. MATTHEW VII. 14.
In the studio, upon the throne-like chair of carved citrus wood andheavy crimson silk, Dea Flavia sat silent and alone.
The footsteps of the men quickly died away on the marble floors of theatrium, their harsh voices and loud laughter only reached this secludedspot as a faint, intangible echo.
The patter of the rain from above into the impluvium was soothing in itsinsistent monotony, only from time to time Jove, still angered, sent histhunders rolling through the heavy clouds and his lightnings rending thelurid sky.
The people of Rome, wrathful against the Caesar, vaguely demandingvengeance for wrongs unstated, had not gone to rest. Like the gale awhile ago they had merely drawn back in their fury, quiescent for awhile, but losing neither strength nor temerity. Dull cries stillresounded from afar. "Death to the Caesar!" was still the rallying cry,though it came now subdued by distance, and the majestic screens ofstately temples interposed between it and the towering heights ofimperial Palatine.
Dea Flavia at first--her musings one wild tangle of hopes, fears andjoys--did only vaguely listen for each recurrent cry as it came; andthus, listening and watching, her ears became doubly sensitive andacute, and caught the words more distinctly as they rolled on thecurrents of the wind that blew them upwards from the arcades of theForum.
"Death to the Caesar!" That cry was always clear, and with it came, likea complement or a corollary, the name of the praefect of Rome.
"Hail Taurus Antinor Caesar! Hail!"
The cry filled Dea Flavia's veins as with living fire. She longed to runout into the streets now, at this moment, with the rain beating abouther and the storm raging overhead, and to call to the people to comeinto her house, in their thousands and tens of thousands, and here tofall down and worship the mighty hero who would rule over them all.
The people clamoured for him, and because of these clamours an almightylove for the people of Rome filled the heart of the Augusta. She saw nowjust what the imperium should be, just how supreme power should sit upona man. And she loved the people because the people saw it too. Theyclamoured for the one man who would fulfil every ideal of Caesarship andof might.
Valour yesterday, the sublimity of self-sacrifice, had appealed to themwith irresistible force, even though they did not understand the forcethat had set these great virtues in motion. The hero of yesterday shouldbe the chosen of to-day, the god of to-morrow; let the brutish Caesar beswept from before his path.
The people clamoured, and did they see the praefect of Rome standingvirile and powerful before them, they would fall on their knees andacclaim him princeps, imperator, greater than great Augustus himself.
And in this very house, but a few steps from where Dea sat musing, werethe men, the patricians who were ready to accept the decision of thepeople, who were all-powerful to make the legions acknowledge the newCaesar, and ready to set the seal of official acceptance to the wilddesires of the plebs.
The patriciate of Rome had combined with the people to place itsdestinies in Dea Flavia's hands. The Caesar's insane pronouncement in theCircus yesterday had confirmed the wishes of the conspirators. Allenvies and jealousies would best be set at rest if the kinswoman ofgreat Augustus chose the future Caesar, and secured the inheritance ofthe great Emperor for his descendants later on.
And now there was but her choice to be made, and the imperium woulddescend on the noblest head that had ever worn a crown. Dea Flavia feltthe hot blood rush to her cheeks at thought that the choice did restwith her, that the man who was so proud, so self-absorbed, soself-willed but a few days ago in the Forum, would receive supreme giftsthrough her; that he would be the recipient and she, like the goddessholding riches, power, honour in her hands; that she would shower themon him while he knelt--a suppliant first, then a grateful worshipper--ather feet.
Ambitious? He must be ambitious! Ambition was the supreme virtue of theRoman patrician! And she had it in her power to satisfy the wildestcravings of ambition in the one man above all men whom she felt wasworthy of the gifts.
Those were the first thoughts that merged themselves into a coherentwhole in Dea Flavia's head after Caius Nepos and the others had bowedthemselves from out her presence, and there was her sense of the powerof giving, that sense so dear to a woman's heart. As to the thought oflove--of the marriage which this same choice of hers would entail--ofthat greatest gift of all--herself--which by her choice she wouldpromise him--that thought did not even begin to enter her head. She wasso much a girl still--hardly yet a woman--she had thought so littlehitherto, felt so little, lived so little; a semi-deified Augusta,surrounded by obsequious slaves and sycophantic hangers-on, she hadexisted in her proud way, aloof from the bent backs that surroundedher--loyal to the Caesar, loyal to herself and to her House--but she hadnot lived.
There had never been a desire within her that had not been gratified orthat had grown delicious and intense through being thwarted; she hadnever suffered, never hoped, never feared. The world was there as aplaything; she had seen masks but never faces, she had never looked intoa human heart or witnessed human sorrow or joy.
Looking back upon her life, Dea Flavia saw how senseless, how soullessit had been. Her soul awakened that day in the Forum when first a real,living man was revealed to her; not a puppet, not a mealy-mouthedsycophant, not a tortuous self-seeker, just a man with a heart, a will,a temperament and strange memories of things seen of which he had toldher, though he saw that he angered her.
Since then she had begun to live, to realise that men lived, thought andfelt, that they had other desires but those of pleasing the Caesar orwinning his good graces. She had seen a man offering his life to saveanother's, she had seen him clinging to a strange symbol which seemed tobring peace to his heart.
That man she honoured and on him would rest her choice, and he would beexalted above everyone on earth because she believed him to be loyal andjust, and knew him to be brave. Her own heart--still in its infancy--hadnot realised that her choice would rest on that man, not because of hisvirtues, not because of his courage and his power, but for the simple,sublime, womanly reason that he was the man whom she loved.
And as she sat there, musing and still, with her eyes almostinvoluntarily drawn toward the oaken door of the inner room, she saw itslowly swinging out upon its hinges, she heard the swishing of the heavycurtain behind it, and the next moment she saw the praefect of Romestanding on the threshold.
He looked sick and wan, but strangely tall and splendid in the barbaricpomp of the gorgeous robe which he had worn yesterday. Dion had cleanedit of blood and dust, and it still looked crumpled and stained, but ashe came forward the purple and gold gleamed against the stuccoed wallsof the studio, and his tawny hair and sun-tanned face looked dark in thesubdued light.
She could see plainly through the robe the line of bandages which boundhis lacerated shoulders, and her heart was filled with pity for all thathe had suffered, and with pride at thought of all the joys that wouldcome to him through her.
As he came nearer to her, he bent the knee.
"I crave leave to kiss thy feet," he said, "for thy graciousness to me."
"Thou art well, O Taurus Antinor?" she asked timidly; "thy wounds...."
"Are healed, O gracious lady," he broke in gently, whilst a smile lit uphis dark face, "since thy lips did deign to ask after them."
"It was presumptuous of me to bring thee here," she said after a while."I feared that thou wast dead, and the Caesar...."
"Would have defiled my body. Then would I kiss the ground where the hemof thy gown did touch it, for thy graciousness hath made it sacred."
"I pray thee rise," she said, "thou art weak."
"May I not kneel?"
"Not to me."
"Not to thee, but before thee, Augusta; before thy beauty and thypurity, the exquisite creations of God."
"Of thy God, O Taurus Antinor," she said with a little sigh. "He hathna
ught to do with me."
"He made thee for man's delight, to gladden the heart of those on whomthy glance doth rest."
She had ordered him to sit on a pile of cushions which lay not far fromher chair. Thus was he almost at her feet, and she could look down uponhis massive shoulders and on his head bent slightly forward as he spoke.
She thought then how like unto a ruler of men he was, how much strengthand power did his whole person express. She wondered, with a happylittle feeling of anticipation, how he would take the news which shewould impart to him, what he would say, how he would look when he knewthat she was prepared to crown him with the diadem of Augustus, and tobestow on him the full gifts of her love.
Time was precious, and the next few moments would satisfy herwonderment. She longed to see the fire of ambition light up his earnestface: the glow of love smouldering in his eyes would render their glanceexquisitely sweet.
But for the moment she would have liked to put the more serious issuesoff for a while, she would have liked to sit here for many hours tocome, with him close by at her feet, her ears pleasantly tickled by hisgentle words of bold admiration yet profound respect. Had he not saidthat she was made to gladden the heart of those on whom her glance didrest? And a sense of sadness had crept into her heart as he thus spoke,for memory had conjured up before her mind the miseries which hadfollowed in her wake these few days past.
"I have brought naught but misery," she said with a sigh, "to those whomI would bless."
"Joy to me, Augusta," he rejoined earnestly, "since the day I firstbeheld thee."
"Menecreta is dead," she whispered; "dost remember?"
"I remember."
She paused a while, then said abruptly:
"And the Caesar is a fugitive."
"Heavens above!" he exclaimed, and the whole expression of his facechanged suddenly; "a fugitive?... when?... where...?"
"The people are wrathful against him," she said; "they surrounded hispalace, and even...."
The words died on her lips. The shout of "Death to the Caesar! Death!"had come distinctly from afar. He jumped to his feet, and she saw thathis face now looked careworn and anxious.
"Where is the Caesar?" he asked hurriedly.
"He is a fugitive, I tell thee. The rabble fired his palace to force himto come out of it and face them. But he ran away through the secretpassage which leads through the house of Germanicus to mine."
"He is here then?"
"No! He grovelled at my feet and begged me to hide him ... here ... inmy private chamber where he thought he would be safe ... but I would notlet him come for I thought thee helpless in thy bed, and feared that hewould kill thee."
"Great God!"
"Nay! why shouldst thou call to thy god on behalf of a tyrant and acoward," she said excitedly; "thou shouldst have seen that man coweringat my feet like a beaten dog. I could have spurned him with my foot, asI would a cur."
"The Caesar, Augusta, the Caesar!"
"Aye!" she rejoined firmly, "the Caesar, my kinsman! Were he not that, Iwould have rushed to my door and called to the people, and would havehanded over unto them that miserable bundle of rags which stood for themajesty of Caesar!"
"And I lay a helpless log," he rejoined bitterly, "while the destiniesof Rome lay in thy hands."
"Aye! The destinies of Rome," she said proudly, whilst a glow of intenseexcitement filled her whole personality, "but not in my hands, Opraefect, but in thine!"
"In mine?"
She rose and went up to him and placed her white fingers upon his arm.
"Listen!" she said.
She held up her other hand and thus stood beside him with slender neckstretched slightly forward, her lips parted, a look of intentnessexpressed in the whole of her exquisite face.
"Dost hear?" she whispered.
Obedient to her will he listened too. The cry of "Death to the Caesar!"monotonous and weird, seemed to strike him with horror, for his wancheeks assumed a yet paler hue and his lips murmured words which,however, she could not understand. Then suddenly the cry was followed byanother--indistinct at first, yet gaining in clearness as it rose on thewaves of the storm from the Forum below.
"The praefect of Rome! Where is the praefect of Rome? Hail TaurusAntinor Caesar! Hail!"
"Hark!" she said triumphantly, "dost hear? The people call to thee!They are ready to deify thee. They call for thee, dost hear them, Opraefect?"
But though she turned her eager, questioning gaze on him, thoughexcitement and enthusiasm seemed to emanate from her from every pore,the look of horror only deepened on his face and the whispered prayerdid not cease to tremble on his lips.
"Dost hear them?" she reiterated once more.
He was looking on her now, and gradually horror faded from his eyes andpallor from his cheeks. A wave of tenderness seemed to pass right overhis face, making the harsh lines seem marvellously soft.
"I hear thy voice," he murmured, "soft as the breath of spring among theleaves of roses."
"The people call for thee."
"And thy hand is on my arm and I feel the magic of thy touch."
She stood there quite close to him, tall and slender like those lilieswhich--ever since he first beheld her--had so sweetly reminded him ofher. Her simple grey tunic fell in straight folds from her shoulders,not a single jewel adorned her hands or neck, only her hair, in heavyplaits, made a crown of gold above her brow.
Never had she seemed to him so beautiful as now, for never had sheseemed so womanly and yet so young. Her soul--rising triumphant from itstrammels of high rank and artificial living--emerged god-like, openingout to the advent of love, welcoming it as it came, enfolding it in itsown ardour and in its purity. With this man's presence near her, withher hand upon his arm, she had suddenly understood. Ambition, power,dominion of the world had vanished from her thoughts.
She had found love, knew love, felt its empire and its yoke, and thevista which that knowledge opened up before her was more wonderful thanshe could ever have dreamed of before.
Her cheeks were glowing with enthusiasm, her lips were parted and hereyes were of a vivid, translucent blue, with the pupils like brilliantsardonyx, full of dark and mysterious lights. She was ready to meet lovewith a surfeit of the rich gifts which she had at her command.
"The people call to thee, Taurus Antinor," she reiterated eagerly; "theywant a man to lead them. They are tired of tyranny, of bloodshed and ofidleness. They want to live! Therefore they call to thee. Two hundredthousand hearts were opened to thee yesterday in the Amphitheatre! Twohundred thousand tongues acclaimed thee even as in thine arms thou didsthold my lord Hortensius Martius and didst bear him into safety. Thepeople have need of thee, and are ready to follow thee whithersoeverthou wouldst lead them. They are miserable and oppressed, they wantjustice! They are starving and want bread. Their fate is in thy keepingfor thou wouldst give them justice, and thou wouldst feed the poor andclothe the needy. All this morning did I hear the moans of thedown-trodden, the wretched and the weak, and felt that Rome could onlyfind happiness now through thee."
"And the Caesar?" he said. "Where is the Caesar?"
"He hath fled like a coward. Let him be forgotten even whilst the peopleproclaim thee the Caesar and a new era of happiness doth rise over Rome."
Then as he made no reply she continued more hurriedly, more insistently:
"There are those here in my house now who would be the first to acclaimthee as the Caesar. The praetorian guard, fired by thy valour yesterday,sickened by the cowardice of Caligula, is ready to follow in their wake,whilst mine will be the joy of calling unto the whole city of Rome:'Citizens, behold your Caesar! He is here!'"
She would not tell him that the imperium should come to him only throughher hands; a strange reticence seemed to choke these words in herthroat. Anon he would know. Caius Nepos and the others would tell him,but it was so sweet to give so much and--as the giver--to remainunknown.
She made a quick movement now, half withdrawing her hand from his ar
m,but his firm grasp closed swiftly over it.
"No, no," he said, "take not thy touch from off my soul lest I sink intoan abyss of degradation."
He kept her slender fingers rivetted against his arm, and she looked upat him a little frightened, for his words sounded strange and there wasa wild look in his eyes. She remembered suddenly that he was sick andthat a brief while ago fever had fired his brain. All her womanlytenderness surged up at sight of his drawn face.
"Thou art ill!" she said gently.
He fell on his knees, and still holding her hand he rested his foreheadagainst the cool white fingers.
"I am dying," he said softly, "for love of thee."
There was silence in the room now whilst she stood quite still, like agrey bird in its nest. She was looking down on him and his head wasbowed upon her hands.
A weird, ruddy light penetrated into the studio from above and the soundof the pattering rain awoke a soft, murmuring echo on the white walls.The noise of strife and rebellion, though distant, still filled the airaround, but here, in this room, there was infinite quietude and peace.
Dea Flavia felt supremely happy. Love had come to her in its mostexquisite plenitude; the man whom she honoured, loved her and she lovedhim. It seemed as if she had slept for thousands and thousands of yearsand had just woke up to see how beautiful was the world.
"Love is not death," she murmured gently. "It is life."
"Death to me," he whispered, "for I have seen thy beauty and felt theenear unto my soul. And when I no longer may look upon thee mine eyeswill become blind with the infinity of their longing, and when I nolonger can feel thy touch, my heart will become as a stone."
A quick blush rose to her cheeks.
"That time shall never come, Taurus Antinor," she said so softly thather words hardly reached his ears. "Have I not told thee that there arethose in my house who are ready to acclaim thee as the Caesar?... actingupon my kinsman's own pronouncement yesterday ... they have come to me... to beg me to make the choice which will place the imperium in thehands of the man most worthy to wield it.... My choice is made, Opraefect!... Look into mine eyes, my dear lord, and read what theyexpress."
He looked up just as she bade him, and as he did so there fell on himfrom her blue eyes such a look of love, that with a wild cry ofpassionate joy he stretched out his arms and closed them around her.
"Love is not death, dear lord," she murmured, even as the tears gatheredin her eyes and made them shine like stars.
The moment was too supreme for words. Even the whisper, "I love thee!"died upon their lips. He held her close to him, her dear head resting onhis shoulder, his hand upon her cheek, the perfume of her lovelinessmounting to his nostrils and making his senses reel with its exquisitefragrance.
This one great moment was love's, and it was love's alone. Each hadforgotten strife, rebellion, ambition, the fugitive Caesar and themurmuring people. Each only remembered the other and the perfect flavourof that first lingering kiss.
Whatever life held for them hereafter, glory or shame, joy or regret,this moment remained unspoiled, perfect in its esctasy, the world but adream, love the only reality.
Overhead the thunder rolled at intervals, dull and distant now, withoccasional flashes of vivid lightning which lit up Dea's golden hair andthe round, bare shoulder which emerged above the tunic. Her face was inshadow; she lay against his heart like a young bird that has found itsnest.
Then he awoke from this ecstasy.
"The Caesar?" he said wildly, "where is the Caesar?"
"Near me now, dear Lord," she murmured looking up at him with a smile;"my head is on his shoulder and I can hear the beating of his heart."
"The Caesar, Augusta," he said more insistently, and now he held her awayfrom him, her two hands still in his and held against his breast, butshe at an arm's length from him.
"Augusta," he reiterated, "I implore thee! Where is the Caesar?"
"Hid in the Palace of Augustus, whining like a coward for his vanishedpower.... Forget him, my dear lord ... he is not worthy of thythoughts.... Whither art going?" she added suddenly, for with gentleforce he had disengaged his hands from hers and had turned toward thedoor.
"To the Caesar, dear heart," he said simply; "an he is a fugitive he hathneed of friends: an he is afraid, he hath need of courage."
"Thou'lt not go to him, dear lord," she exclaimed indignantly, and herhands, strong and firm, fastened themselves on his arm. "A coward, Itell thee ... a madman ... a tyrant ..."
"The Caesar, Augusta," he retorted; "deign to let me go to him."
"Thou'rt mad, Taurus Antinor! Fever is in thy veins and doth cloud theclearness of thy brain.... Hast not heard the people? They vow vengeanceon him.... 'Tis on thee they call ... thou art their chosen, theiranointed; the people call to thee. It is thou whom they acclaim."
"To-morrow," he said more gently, "they will have forgotten theirdisloyalty. To-morrow they will have forgotten me ... they will think medead ... dead will I be to them to-morrow."
"Nay! but to-day," she urged, "to-day is thine and mine.... Thepraetorian praefect is here and the others ... the choice rests with meand my choice is made.... Rome even now rings from end to end with thyname: 'Hail Taurus Antinor Caesar! Hail!' ... Hast no ambition?" shecried, for at her words he had remained cold and still.
"None," he replied gently, "but so to help the Caesar, that he may gainthe love of his people by acts of grace and mercy, and to see the wingsof peace once more spread over the seven hills of Rome."
With a firm yet exquisitely tender touch he took her clinging hands inhis, forcing her to release her grip on his arm. On her tremblingfingers then he pressed a burning, lingering kiss.
"Thou art not going!" she cried.
"To the Caesar, O my soul! He hath need of me! He has mine oath; myloyalty is his."
"A madman and a tyrant. If thou goest to him he will kill thee!... hisguard is with him ... he will kill thee!"
"That is as God wills...!"
"Thy god!" she retorted vehemently, "thy god! Doth he wish to part us?Is my love naught that he should wish thee to spurn it...?"
"The value of thy love is infinite," he said earnestly and tenderly as,in perfect humility, he bent the knee for one moment before her andstooping to the very ground he kissed the tip of her sandal. "'Tis onlyon bended knees that such as I can render sufficient thanks to God andto thee for that holy, precious gift."
She bent down to him and said with earnest solemnity:
"Then I entreat thee, good my lord, in the name of that love go not tothe Caesar now.... An he doth not kill thee ... an thou dost help tobring him back to power, he will use that power to part thee from me....Do not go from me now, dear lord--for if thou goest I know that it willbe for ever.... The Caesar hates thee now as much as he loved thee before... his hatred is as insensate as his love.... He will kill thee or takethee from me.... In either case 'tis death, my good lord...."
"'Twere death to betray the Caesar, O my soul!" he replied, still on hisknees, his forehead bent low to the ground, "Death, a thousand timesworse than a dagger's thrust ... a thousand times worse than parting."
His voice was low and vibrant, and as his solemn words died away, theystruck the murmuring echo that slumbered on the studio walls. And DeaFlavia was silent now: silent as he rose to his feet and stood beforeher with head slightly bent, silent, because borne on the subtle wing ofthat same dying echo there came to her the awful sense of unavoidablefate. She shuddered as if with cold, that sense of fatality seemedready to spread over her soul like a pall.
It was only the Roman blood in her, the blood of victorious Augustuswhich would not allow her to yield to the spectre ... not just yet ...not until the last battle had been fought--the last unconquerable weapondrawn.
She waited in silence for a while, nor did she detain him by theslightest gesture although he once more made a movement as if to go,only her eyes rooted him to the spot even as she said very softly, hervoice sounding full and mellow like
the cooing of a dove.
"My lord, I entreat thee but to grant me one moment longer, for of atruth there is much that my mind cannot grasp. Of thy god we will notspeak. Whoever he be, as thou dost worship him, I will be content toworship by thy side. But that will come in the fullness of time. Dostlove me, my dear lord?"
"With every aspiration of my soul, with every beating of my heart, withevery fibre of my body do I love thee," he said, and there was suchintensity of passion in his voice, such a glowing ardour in the glancewhich seemed to envelop and embrace her whole person, that even she--theproud Augusta, the woman--exacting through the very magnitude of herlove--was satisfied.
"Then, dear lord, I entreat thee," she said, "for one brief moment onlythink of naught but of our love. Let me rest in thine arms but that onemoment longer, and remember the while that with my love, the worldconquered will lie at thy feet."
She drew closer to him and once more lay against his breast. She wastender and clinging now, no longer the Augusta, the unapproachableprincess but just a woman, loving and submissive, proud to give andproud to abdicate.
To him this was the torturing moment. He knew what she desired and whatweapons she could wield wherewith to subdue his will. The battle hefought with himself just then was but a precursor of the fiercer onewhich anon he would have to fight against her. The rending of his soulwas expressed in every line of his face, which once more now lookedhaggard and harsh; Dea Flavia saw it all. She saw how he suffered,whilst with every passing second the inward struggle became moredifficult and fierce; his breath came and went with feverish rapidity,the frown across his brow deepened visibly, and for a while his armswere rigid and his fists clenched, even though she clung to him, herfrail body against his, her head upon his breast.
"Wouldst lose the world and lose me?" she murmured. "The world is at thyfeet, and I love thee."
A moan escaped him as that of a wounded creature in pain; the rigidityof his arms relaxed and wildly now he was pressing her closer to him.
"I love thee," he murmured, "I love thee. The world is well lost to menow that I have held thee in mine arms."
"The world, dear lord," she whispered, "is not lost, rather is it won.My hand in thine, we'll make that world a happier and brighter one.Power is thine ... thou art the Caesar...."
"Hush--sh--sh, idol of my soul! Do not speak of that ... not now ...when my arms are round thee and the whole world has vanished from myken. Let me live in my dream just a brief moment longer; let me forgetall save my love for thee. It hath burned my soul for an eternitymeseems, for I have only lived since that hour when first I heard thyvoice ... in the Forum ... dost remember?... when I knelt at thy feetand tied the strings of thy shoe."
"I remember!"
"And I loved thee from that hour. I loved thee for thy purity andbecause thou art exquisitely beautiful and I am a man thirsting forhappiness. But God, who hath need of my soul, hath willed to break myheart so that I might remain pure and true to His service. It was sofilled with thine image that even the glorious vision of His Passionbecame faint and dim. But with infinite pity He hath given thee to mejust for this one brief, glorious hour that it might feed on the memoryof thee, even whilst my feet trod the way that leads to the foot of HisCross."
"There is but one way, dear lord," she exclaimed, "for thy footsteps totread! Tis the way that leads to mine arms first and thence upwards tothe temple of Jupiter Victor where stands the throne and rests thesceptre of Augustus."
"The way of which I speak, dear heart," he rejoined earnestly, "alsoleads upwards, upwards to Calvary, on the uttermost summit of whichstands a lonely, broken Cross. The wind and rains and snows of the pastseven years have worked their will with it.... They tell me that one ofits branches lies broken on the ground, that its stem is split from endto end. But it is there--there still, abandoned now and alone, but toeyes that can see, still bearing the imprint of the heavenly body thathung thereon for three hours in unspeakable agony so that men might knowhow to live--and might learn how to die."
She said nothing for the moment. Her excitement had not left her, buther lips were mute because that which was in her heart was too great,too strange for words. She did not understand what he meant; she stillthought that fever had clouded his brain; anon, she felt sure, sanereason would return and with it ambition, which became every man. Butshe did not understand that his love for her transcended all human loveshe ever wot of; it was great and noble and sublime as all that emanatedfrom him, and, womanlike, she was content to let other matters shapethemselves in accordance with the will of the gods.
She looked into the face which in this brief period of time she hadlearnt to love, and tried to read that which to her was still hiddenbehind the earnest brow and the deep-set eyes. In them, indeed, did sheread exultation, an ardour at least equal to her own, but an ardour foran object which she--the proud, exquisite pagan, the daughter ofAugustus--wholly failed to comprehend. She had shown him the way to theimperium, to the diadem of Augustus, the sceptre of the Caesars, yet inhis eyes, which were unfathomable and blue as the ocean that girt hisown ancestral home of far away, there glowed neither the fire ofambition, nor the desire for supreme power. Only the fire of love forher and the serenity of infinite peace.
"Dear lord," she said, "when the sceptre of Augustus is in thine handsthou canst wield it at thy pleasure. I know not the way of which thouspeakest; the mountain of Calvary is unknown to me and thou speakest ofthings that are strange to mine ear.... But the gods have placed itwithin my power to make thee great above all men, the ruler of themightiest Empire in the world, and on my knees do I thank them that theyhave shown me the way whereby I can guide thy footsteps even to thethrone of Augustus."
"And on my knees do I thank God, O my soul, that thou didst show me theway to the foot of His Cross. God himself, dear heart!--oh! thou'ltunderstand some day for thy soul is beautiful and prepared to receivejust that one breath from Heaven which will show it the way to eternallife--God Himself, dear heart, who lived amongst us all a lowly, humblelife of patience and of toil! God--think on it!--who might have comedown to us in the fullness of His Majesty, Who might, had He so chosen,have wielded the sceptre of the world and worn every crown of everyempire throughout the ages, but Whom I saw--aye, I, dear heart--saw withmine own eyes as He toiled, weary, footsore, anhungered, and athirst,that He might comfort the poor and bring radiance into the dwellings ofthe humble. And I who saw Him thus, I who heard His voice of gentlenessand of peace, I to desire a crown and sceptre, to betray the Caesar andto mount a throne!!! Dear heart! dear heart! dost not understand thatthe sceptre would weigh like lead in my hands and the crown bow my headdown with shame?"
"Then would my whispered words lift the weight from thy brow and my kissdissipate the blush of shame from thy cheeks. Day and night would go byin infinite happiness, thy head upon my breast, mine arms encircling thyneck. I am ignorant still, yet would I teach thee what love means andthe sweet lesson learnt from me thou wouldst teach me in return."
"And in mine ear the still, small voice would murmur: 'Thou hast seenthe living face of thy God, didst break thine oath to Caesar! thou didstbetray him in his need, even as the Iscariot betrayed his Lord with akiss.'"
"The voice of thy god," she retorted, "is no louder than that of thepeople of Rome, and the people proclaim thee the Caesar and have releasedthee of thine oath."
"The voice of God," he said slowly, "spoke to me across the sandy wastesof Galilee and said unto me: 'Render unto Caesar the things that areCaesar's, and unto God the things that are God's.'"
His softly murmured words died away in the vastness around him. DeaFlavia made no response; a terrible ache was in her heart as if a cold,dead hand gripped its every string, whilst mocking laughter sounded inher ear.
That cruel monster Finality grinned at her from across the room. Lovewas lying bleeding and fettered at the feet of some intangible,superhuman spectre which Dea Flavia dreaded because it was the Unknown.
Taurus Antinor's eyes were fi
xed into vacancy, and she trembled becauseshe could not see that which he saw. Was he looking on that very visionwhich he had conjured up, a cross, broken and tempest-tossed, a symbolof that power which to him was mightier than the Empire of Rome,mightier than the kingdom of her love?
She remembered how, a few days ago, in this self-same room she had inthought accosted and defied that Galilean rebel who had died theignominious death; she had defied him, even she, Dea Flavia Augusta ofthe imperial House of Caesar. She had offered him battle for this veryman whose soul she now would fill with her own.
She had defied the Galilean, vowed that she would conquer this heart andfilch it from the allegiance it had sworn, vowed that she would make itCaesar's first and then her own, that she would break it and crush itfirst and then wrest it from its unknown God.
And now it seemed as if that obscure Galilean rebel had conquered in theend. She had brought forth the whole armoury of her love, her beauty,her nearness, the ardour of youth and passion which emanated from herentire being, and the intangible Unknown had remained the victor, andshe was left with that awful ache in her heart which was more bitterthan death.
"Have I thy leave to go, Augusta?" he asked gently at last, "themoments are precious. The Caesar hath need of me...."
She woke as from a hideous dream. With a wild gesture of the arms sheseemed to sweep away from before her those awful spectres that assailedher. Then she clung to him with the strength of oncoming despair.
"No--no," she cried, "do not go ... he will kill thee, I say ... do notgo...."
"I must," he said firmly. "Dear heart, I entreat thee let me go."
"No--no ... think but a moment ... think!... My love?... is it naught tothee?... Has my kiss left thee cold?... Do not leave me, dear lord ...do not leave me yet ... not just yet ... now that I know what happinesscan mean. I have been so lonely all my life.... Love hath come to me atlast ... love and happiness.... I am young--I want both.... Dear lord,if thou lovest me canst leave me desolate?..."
"_If_ I love thee!"
There was so much longing in the one brief phrase, such passion and suchtenderness, that all her hopes revived. One more effort and she feltsure that she would conquer. Fever was in her veins now, the walls ofthe studio swam before her eyes; she fell on her knees for she could nolonger stand, but her arms encircled him, clinging to him with all hermight. Her face, lifted up to his, was swimming in tears, her goldenhair escaping from its trammels fell in a glowing mass down hershoulders.
"I love thee," she murmured, "canst leave me now, dear lord.... If thougoest now 'tis for ever ... think, oh think! just for one moment ... theCaesar restored to power will part me from thee ... even if anon in hismadness he doth not kill thee. If thou goest 'tis for ever.... Thinkon it ... think on it ere thou goest.... My love ... my love, go notfrom me, and leave me desolate.... Dear lord, but think on it--of thekisses thou wilt taste from my lips--the ecstasies thou wilt find in myarms!... Thine am I--thine my heart that loves thee--my body thatworships thee--my every thought is thine.... Go not from me ... not justnow till thou hast felt once more the full savour of my love."
Her arms round his knees, and she was exquisitely beautiful, exquisitein her whole-hearted love, her whole-hearted abnegation--she, a proudRoman lady kneeling at his feet, her full red lips asking for a kiss.
He stood with his face buried in his hands.
"Oh God! my God!" he murmured, "do not forsake me now!"
The thunder crashed overhead while a human soul fought its desperatefight for truth and eternal life. A vivid flash of lightning lit up thewhite-washed walls of the studio, and to the poor fighting soul,tortured with temptation, with longing and with passion, there came inthat swift bright flash a vision of long ago.
The sky lurid and dark, the soil trembling beneath the feet of thousandsof men and women, and there, far away, outlined against that sky, afigure stretched out upon a Cross. The head was bent in agony, the eyeshalf-closed, the lips livid and parted, the body broken with tormentshad the rigidity of death. But the arms were stretched out, straight andwide, as if with one last gesture of appeal and of longing, and in thisstorm-laden air there floated tender words, intangible and soft as amemory.
"Come unto me, all ye that travail and are heavy laden, and I willrefresh you."
It was but a vision, swift as the lightning flash that conjured it andthe words had already died on the stillness of the air.
But the tortured soul had found its anchorage. Taurus Antinor's handsfell from before his face.
"In Thy service, O Jesus of Galilee!" he said, and the mighty effort ofsubjection brought the perspiration to his brow and caused his limbs totremble. "I saw Thine agony, Thy sacrifice; it should be so easy to dothis for Thy sake. Give me the strength to render unto Caesar that whichis Caesar's, and do Thou take from me all that is Thine."
She heard his words, she saw the look and knew that she had failed.
Back on the cruel wings of remembrance came the words of Menecreta theslave.
"May thine every deed of mercy be turned to sorrow and to humiliation,thine every act of pity prove a curse to him who receives it, until thouon thy knees art left to sue for pity to a heart that knoweth it not,and findest a deaf ear turned unto thy cry!"
And the curse of the broken-hearted mother seemed like the tangibleresponse to the defiance which she, in her arrogance and her pride, hadhurled against him who was called Jesus of Nazareth. She would haveblessed Menecreta and Menecreta was dead; she would have given her lifefor the Caesar and the Caesar was a cowardly fugitive, and now on herknees she had sued for pity, and the heart which she had fought for topossess had turned from her as if it knew neither mercy nor love, andwhilst her very soul had cried with longing she had found a deaf earturned to her cry.
That unknown Galilean who died upon the cross had been stronger than herlove. It was he who was filching it from its allegiance, he who wasbrushing and crushing this heart ere he wrested it finally from her--DeaFlavia Augusta of the imperial House of Caesar!
The Galilean had accepted her challenge and he had conquered, and shewas naught in the heart of the one man she would have given her wholelife to call her own.
She gave a cry like a wounded bird, she jumped to her feet, and for onemoment stood up, splendid, wrathful, pagan to the heart.
"Curse thy god," she cried wildly, "curse him, I say, for a jealous,cruel god.... Go thy ways, O follower of the Galilean! go thy ways! andwhen lonely and wretched thy footsteps lead thee along that way whichthou hast deified, then call on him, I say--thou'lt find him silent tothy prayer and deaf unto thy woe!"
Her body swayed, an ashen pallor spread over her cheeks, she would havefallen backwards like a log had he not caught her in his arms.
Reverently he carried her to the couch and there he laid her down,wrapping her grey shroud-like tunic closely round her feet.
He bent over her and kissed her golden hair, each blue-veined lid closedin unconsciousness, the perfect lips pallid now and still.
"In the name of Him Who died before mine eyes, take her in Thy keeping,O God!" he murmured fervently.
Then without another glance on her, he fled precipitately from theroom.
Unto Caesar Page 30
