Darkness and Dawn; Or, Scenes in the Days of Nero. An Historic Tale

by F. W. Farrar

  CHAPTER XXIII

  _PERILS OF BRITANNICUS_

  ‘Cast thine eye On yon young boy. I’ll tell thee what, my friend, He is a very serpent in my way; And, wheresoe’er this foot of mine doth tread, He lies before me. Dost thou understand me? Thou art his keeper’

  SHAKESPEARE, _King John_, iii. 3.

  At this time a change came over the fortunes of Onesimus.

  Pudens had been dismissed from his post among the _excubitors_ of thePalace, under the semblance of honourable promotion, but in realitybecause Nero was doubly displeased by his fidelity to Britannicusand by the blow which (as he had accidentally discovered) Pudenshad given him during the nocturnal encounter. But, as he had beenan excubitor for so long, he had been accustomed to keep some of hisarmour and a few books in a room in the Palace, and he sent Onesimusto fetch them.

  As he went to this room under the guidance of one of Cæsar’s slaves,Onesimus heard a low voice singing the burden of one of the Phrygiansongs with which he had been familiar in old days at Thyatira.

  He was a creature of impulse, and, without thinking what he wasdoing, he took up the refrain of the song.

  Immediately the door opened, and a beautiful dark-eyed girl asked inan agitated voice, and in the dialect of Phrygia, who had taken upthe song.

  The sound of his native tongue sent through the heart of Onesimusthat indescribable thrill which we feel when past recollections aresuddenly brought home to us in long-accumulated arrears. Greek hadbeen spoken in the household of Philemon. He had scarcely heard hisnative Phrygian since he had been a free-born child, before he hadincurred the stain of being sold as a slave. He answered in Phrygianthat he had known the song since he was a child at his mother’s kneein Thyatira.

  ‘In Thyatira?’ said the girl; then gazing at him long and earnestly,she flung up her arms and exclaimed, ‘Can this be Onesimus?’

  ‘Do you know my name, lady?’ he asked in surprise.

  ‘Look at me,’ she answered. ‘It is twelve years since we met, but doyou not recall--’

  He fixed his eyes on her face and said in a troubled voice, ‘Youare like Eunice, the daughter of my mother’s sister, with whom Iwas brought up as a child.’

  ‘Hush!’ she exclaimed; ‘step aside for a moment, Onesimus; I _am_Eunice, but for many years I have not been known by that name. Whenthe fortunes of our house were ruined I too was sold as a slave withyou to the purple factory of Lydia; but a freedman of the EmperorClaudius saw me and brought me to wait upon the Empress Messalina.He thought my name too fine, and changed it to Acte.’

  ‘Acte?’ burst out Onesimus; ‘then you are,’--he broke off andremained silent.

  A blush suffused the girl’s cheek. ‘A slave,’ she said, ‘is forcedto do her master’s bidding. Nero loved me sincerely, and I loved him,and I was ignorant and very young. But it is past. The affections ofNero are turned elsewhere; yet none can say that I have ever used myinfluence for any but kind ends.’

  ‘I reproached you not, Acte,’ said Onesimus, ‘if I must call you byyour new name. I have far too much wherewith to reproach myself.’

  ‘Meet me here,’ said Acte, ‘two hours after noon, and you shall tellme all your story, and how I can help you.’

  Onesimus came that afternoon. He and Acte had been like brother andsister in the house at Thyatira in happier days, and he told her hissad story and all his sufferings, and how he had been rescued by thecompassion of Pudens, and how, even in the house of Pudens, he hadnot shown himself worthy of the centurion’s kindness, and how heloved Junia--and all his fears and all his hopes.

  ‘Should you like to be one of Cæsar’s household?’ asked Acte. ‘If so,I do not doubt that I can get you a place by mentioning your name tothe steward of the Empress.’

  For the slave of a poor soldier the offer involved immense promotionand still larger possibilities. The thought of Junia checked Onesimusfor a moment, but Acte told him that, if he rose in the house ofCæsar, there lay before him the far nearer chances of emancipationand riches, so that he would be more likely in due time to make Juniahis own. She did not conceal from him that, in such a community asthe sixteen hundred imperial slaves, the temptations to every formof wrong-doing were far deadlier than in a humble and more modest_familia_; but she longed to have near her one whom she could trustas a brother and a friend. Onesimus had acquired at Thyatira a goodknowledge of all that concerned the purchase and the preservationof purple. It would not be difficult for Acte, without her nameappearing in the matter, to secure him a place as the purple-keeperin the household of Octavia. She knew that Parmenio, the _servus apurpura_, had died recently, and that the qualifications for the postwere a little less common than those which sufficed for the majorityof slaves.

  Onesimus, therefore, grasped at the dazzling bait of better payand loftier position. That evening he spoke to Nereus, who, afterconsulting Pudens, told him that there would be no difficulty,whether by exchange or otherwise, in permitting his acceptance ofthe offer which had been made to him.

  The great men who visited Cæsar looked down upon the hundreds ofslaves who thronged the Palace as beings separated from themselvesby an immeasurable abyss of inferiority; but to the mass of pauperswho formed the chief part of the population servitude to the Emperorseemed a condition of enviable brilliance. We are told that whenFelicio was promoted to the post of _Cæsar’s_ cobbler, he at oncebecame a personage of importance, and was flattered on every side.Onesimus had much the same experience. Among those who knew himhe found that he had risen indefinitely by the exchange whichtransferred him to the office of _servus a purpura_ in the householdof Octavia.

  He was received into the slaves’ quarters with the showers ofsweetmeats and the other humble festivities which welcomed theadvent of a new slave; and on the evening of his admission Actesent for him.

  ‘Onesimus,’ she said, ‘I have it in my power to befriend you; and ifyou will be faithful you may rise to posts of the greatest importance.But such promotion must depend on your character. May I trust you?’

  ‘Surely, Acte!’

  ‘Then let me confide to you a secret of the deepest import. You haveseen the Prince Britannicus?’

  ‘Yes. He looks a noble boy.’

  ‘I fear that his life is imperilled--it is not necessary to say bywhom. I could weep when I think of the dangers which threaten him.Your office will give you opportunities of sometimes seeing him.It is not possible that I should meet you often; but here is a coinwhich has on it the head of Britannicus. If ever I send you one ofthese coins, as though I wanted you to purchase something, will youcome to me at once? It will be a sign that he is menaced.’

  Onesimus promised; and, in truth, the need for watchfulness wasvery pressing; for, on the day which followed the evening of theSaturnalitian games, Nero, fretting with jealousy and alarm, summonedJulius Pollio, the tribune on whom had been bestowed the post whichPudens had occupied, and sent him with a message to Locusta. She wasallowed to move about the Palace, but was under the nominal charge ofthe guardsmen.

  It might well seem amazing that a youth whose disposition was notinnately cruel, and who a few years before had been a timid, blushingboy, caring mainly for art and amusement, should have developed, inso brief a space of time, into the murderer of his brother. But theeffects produced by the vertigo of autocracy on a mean dispositionare rapid as well as terrible. He had soon discovered that it wasin his power to do exactly what he liked; and when he had learnt toregard himself as a god on earth, to whose wishes every law, divineand human, must give way, there was no vice of which he did notrapidly become capable. What was the life of a young boy, who stoodin his way, to one who had unchallenged power over the life and deathof millions of subjects over all the civilised world?

  And yet the fate of his predecessors showed him that the pinnacleof absolute power was a place of constant peril. The loss of empirewould mean inevitably the loss also of life. Was this peevish lad tobe a sou
rce of constant danger to the darling of the soldiers, of themob, and of the world?

  He had no reason to approach Julius Pollio with any of thecircumspection with which Shakespeare represents King John as openinghis designs to Hubert. When, at the suggestion of Tigellinus, he hadappointed Pollio to supersede Pudens, he knew the sort of man whom hewould have at his beck. He simply said to the tribune--

  ‘I want some poison. Locusta is under your charge. Tell her toprepare some for me.’ He did not trouble himself to mention theperson for whom the poison was intended.

  Locusta was too familiar with her trade to hesitate. Had she nottaught many a guilty wife, in spite of rumour, in spite of thepopulace, to bury undetected the blackening body of her husband? Herfiendish nature rejoiced at the consciousness of secret power. Shesupplied Pollio with a poison which was, she assured him, of triedefficacy, and she again received a large sum of money in reward forher services. Nero knew that among the wretches by whom his motherhad surrounded Britannicus, and not all of whom had been removed, itwould be easy to find some one who would administer the poison. Hedecided that the deed should be done at some private meal, and by thehands of one of the boy’s tutors, who never thought of shrinking fromthe infamy. In that midnight and decadence of a dying Paganism thecrime of ordinary murder was too cheap to excite remorse.

  But it was impossible that all this should pass unobserved. Acte hadbeen brought under Christian influences, and was anxious by all meansin her power to atone for the unintended wrong which her beauty hadinflicted upon Octavia. Nero was no longer her lover, though shestill lived in the Palace, and held a high position as one for whomthe Emperor had once conceived so strong an infatuation. She had herown slaves assigned to her, and of these some were Christians. Inher self-imposed task of watching over the life of Britannicus sheasked them to obtain information of any circumstance that seemed tothreaten him with danger. From them she learnt that Nero had beencloseted with Julius Pollio; that Pollio had paid a visit to Locusta;and that, when Locusta had sent a small vial to Nero, the Emperorhad summoned to his presence the tutor of Britannicus, who had beenobserved to carry away the vial in his closed hand. Her spies furthertold her that, by watching and listening, they had ascertained thatthe poison was to be given to the son of Claudius, not at supper butat the light midday meal which he took with Titus. After they hadbeen enjoying vigorous exercise in the morning the boys usuallyshowed an excellent appetite.

  More than this they could not discover; but this much Acte confidedto Onesimus, and implored him to keep watch, and if possible, devisesome means by which to forewarn Britannicus of his imminent peril.

  At first the quick Phrygian youth, who was understood to be underthe patronage of Acte, had been a favourite in the household, andhe found little difficulty in making friends with the cooks andother slaves who superintended the meals of the imperial family. Bya visit to the kitchen--in which he flattered the cook and his youngassistants by the lively curiosity which he expressed about thevarious dishes, and the enthusiasm with which he admired theirskill--he learnt that, as a special treat, a beccafico was to besent in for the _prandium_ of Britannicus, and he conjectured thatit would be poisoned. That the cook was innocent of any evil designhe was sure, and he guessed that the fig-pecker would be poisoned bysome slave of higher office about the young prince’s person. But heknew not how to forewarn the unsuspecting boy. The time was short.It was not easy to find an excuse by which he--whose duty lay in adifferent part of the Palace--could find access to the apartments ofBritannicus. And whom could he warn? There was scarcely an instanceknown in which any one had dared to interfere between an emperor andhis victims. In the general paralysis of servility, in the terrorinspired by the little despicable human god, in the indifference tobloodshed caused by the games of the amphitheatre, why should any onebe troubled by one death the more?

  But Onesimus, less familiar with a world so plague-stricken withtorpid corruption, felt in his heart a spring of pity for the doomedboy. After rejecting plan after plan as impossible, it flashed uponhim that he might get a message conveyed to Titus. He had but a fewminutes left, and Titus could not be found until he and the prince,still warm and glowing from their game of ball, entered the parlour.Onesimus grew desperate, and, boldly summoning a young slave, senthim to Titus with the extemporised message that the centurion Pudensurgently desired to speak with him.

  Titus went into the hall, and recognised Onesimus as the youth whomhis own kindness had first brought under the notice of Pudens. ThePhrygian led him to a remote part of the hall, behind one of thestatues of the Danaides, and whispered to him, ‘Britannicus is indanger. Let him not touch the bird which has been provided for hislunch. Oh, stay not to ask me anything,’ he added, when Titus seemedinclined to question him further; ‘hurry back, if you would save hislife.’

  Titus hurried back, but the meal was quite informal, and Britannicus,hungry with exercise, had already helped himself to the dainty setbefore him.

  ‘Give me some of that fig-pecker,’ said Titus desperately; ‘I am veryfond of those birds; we catch them at Reate.’

  Britannicus at once handed the dish to him with a smile. ‘I don’tknow what Epictetus would think,’ he said, ‘of a Stoic who is fond ofdainties.’

  ‘It is meant exclusively for you, Sir,’ said the _pædagogus_, hastily.‘I wonder that Titus should be so greedy.’

  Titus blushed; but the remark helped him out of a serious difficulty.He had thought in vain how he could avoid eating the bird whichOnesimus had told him was poisoned.

  ‘After that remark,’ he answered, ‘of course I cannot touch it.’

  ‘Then give it back to Britannicus,’ said the tutor.

  ‘Nay,’ said the prince; ‘if Titus is to be called greedy for likingit, I must be greedy too. I have had enough. Besides there is a tasteabout it which I do not like. Bread and a few olives are more thanenough.’

  He pushed away his plate, and when they had risen from the table, helooked curiously at his friend.

  Titus blushed again. ‘I know,’ he whispered, ‘that _you_ will notthink me greedy, Britannicus.’

  ‘Titus,’ he answered, ‘you know something.’

  ‘Ask me nothing,’ said Titus; ‘I was only just in time, if, indeed,I have been in time.’

  Britannicus was silent. He suspected that some attempt had beenmade upon his life, and that it had been partially frustrated by thefaithfulness of his friend. He had no doubt on the subject, when,a little later, he was seized with violent pains. Happily, however,he had scarcely more than tasted of the beccafico, and in the fit ofsickness which followed, nature came to his relief. His recovery wasaided by the pure and glowing state of his health. After a few hoursof excruciating agony he sank into a long refreshing sleep.

  He woke in the twilight, to find himself lying on a couch, whileOctavia and Titus, sitting on either side of him, were rubbing hiscold hands.

  ‘Where am I?’ he asked. ‘Oh, I remember!’ And he said no more; buthe took the hand of Titus, and drew his sister near to him and kissedher.

  The hearts of all three were too full for words, but as they satthere a message came that the Augusta was coming to visit them.

  Agrippina was of course admitted, and left her attendants at thedoor. As the lovely haughty lady entered, they could not helpobserving, even by the dim light of the two silver lamps whichhad just been lit, that a change had passed over her features, andthat she had been weeping. Haughty they still were, but wrath anddisappointment and failure, purchased at the cost of crime, hadstamped them with an expression of agony, as though she wore thebrand of Cain. When she heard of the sudden illness of Britannicus,she divined its cause too well. While her power was waning sorapidly, she had been no longer able to maintain the elaborate systemof espionage which had helped her when she was Empress; but she, too,was aware that Pollio had visited Locusta, and the misgiving hadseized her that the poison might be meant for herself. That it turnedout to be for Britannicus was hardly less appallin
g to her. She feltthat her imprudence had made Nero jealous of him, and that his deathwould deprive her of her last resource. She rejoiced, therefore,unfeignedly at the boy’s recovery, and when she visited him he sawthat, for the first time, she spoke with genuine kindness to Octavia,and that her expressions of pity and condolence to himself weresincere. There was no feigning in the hot teardrops which fell onhis cheek when she kissed him, and as he lay there, weak and pale,she felt, with deepening remorse for the wrongs which she hadinflicted on him, that he did not shrink from her embrace.

  Nero, too, sent messages of enquiry to ‘his beloved brother’ by hisfreedman, Claudius Etruscus. As he heard them, the old spirit ofBritannicus flashed out.

  ‘Tell Cæsar,’ he said, ‘that this time his poi--’

  Before the word could be spoken, Titus with hasty gesture placed hishand over his friend’s mouth, and Agrippina, knowing well that everysyllable would be reported, and interpreted in the most malignantmanner, turned her queenly head to the freedman who had brought themessage.

  ‘Tell the Emperor that his brother is much better, but is stilllight-headed. Claudius Etruscus,’ she said, ‘you pass for an honestman. I pray you, do not mention to Nero anything which Britannicushas spoken in his delirium.’

  Etruscus bent low, and, touched by passing pity at the scene whichhe had witnessed, he determined to abstain from reporting what he hadheard. ‘The Augusta,’ he said, ‘has always been kind to me. Her wishshall be obeyed.’

  But Nero was restless and anxious, and was pacing to and fro like acaged wild beast. The thought of plots and perils haunted him. Thatmorning, as he passed along the covered way which led from the Palaceinto the theatre, he had seen the red stain of the blood of Caligulaon the walls--a red stain which could not be washed out--and felta spasm of suffocation as if a dagger were at his throat. He wasfrightened to hear from Etruscus that Agrippina was with his brother.Were they conspiring to bring about a revolution? He would himselfgo and see.

  He had been drinking, and as he entered took no notice of Titus orof Octavia. To Agrippina he only vouchsafed a cold salute, and she,dreading another scene in the presence of witnesses, rose and leftthe chamber. He took the cold hand of Britannicus in his own hot andfeverish grasp, and a pang of hatred shot through him as he felt itshrink at his touch. The boy was propped up on his couch with pillows,and a hectic spot burned on each of his pallid cheeks; but his eyeswere filled with strange light, and, as he fixed them on the face ofNero, they seemed to read his inmost soul.

  Nero averted his glance. He dared not look upon his victim. Indeed,under that steady gaze, the consciousness of his crime brought thetell-tale crimson over his face. He was not yet too far gone toblush, though the days were rapidly approaching in which he wouldwear a front of brass.

  He muttered some hypocritical words of condolence, which rang falseand were overdone. Britannicus spoke not.

  Octavia said, ‘Pardon his silence, Nero; he is too weak to thank you.’

  ‘I did not ask _you_ to interfere,’ answered Nero brutally.

  ‘I give you such thanks as are due,’ said Britannicus in a faintvoice; but he tried to withdraw his hand from Nero’s grasp.

  Nero rose in a towering passion. ‘I came to inquire about yourillness. You meet me with scowls and ingratitude,’ he said, flingingaway the hand of Britannicus. ‘If you do not choose to behave as abrother, I will make you feel that you are a subject. Octavia andTitus, you may retire.’

  ‘Oh, do not leave me alone. I am very ill,’ pleaded the poor prince.‘Indeed, indeed I cannot be left alone.’

  The terrible thought which had flashed through the mind of Nero--thethought that, if left alone, the boy might be killed that night--hadwoke its reflection in the mind of Britannicus. But Nero strodeangrily out of the room, and neither repeated nor withdrew hiscommand.

  ‘May the spirits of all the good protect thee!’ said Octavia, as shefondly kissed her brother. ‘I dare not stay; it might be the worsefor thee if I did.’

  ‘But I will stay, Empress,’ said Titus, ‘and I will do my best forhim.’

  When the young Empress had withdrawn, Titus beckoned to her faithfulfreedwoman Pythias, and told her to send for Onesimus. He came, andTitus, after slipping into his hand an aureus, which the Empress hadleft for him as a reward for his faithful warning, begged him to beon the alert, and to return in an hour. The Phrygian went to Acte,and told her all that had occurred. She kept him near at hand, andin a short time informed him that two of Nero’s worst creatures--Tigellinus and Doryphorus--were closeted with the Emperor, andthat there was too much reason to fear that some deadly measure wouldbe attempted that evening.

  Such was indeed the case. For now, to the joy of Tigellinus, Nero hadopenly declared that Britannicus must be swept out of his path; hadeven admitted to him that poison had been attempted, and had failed.

  ‘How soon do you wish the deed to be done?’ asked the wickedadventurer.

  ‘If we are to prevent some accursed plot,’ said Nero, ‘it cannot betoo soon.’

  ‘To-night?’

  ‘To-night, if you will,’ answered Nero, ‘but it must be secret. Theremust be no scandal. A story must be trumped up. The Augusta must bedeceived. Octavia must be deceived. None of his adherents must knowof it, unless they can be trusted to hold their tongues.’

  ‘Nearly all the people about him are in our pay,’ said Tigellinus.‘I think it can be done.’

  That night no soldier was on guard near the room of Britannicus, andTitus regarded this as a fatal sign. When he received from Onesimusthe intelligence which Acte had given him, he said that he would drawhis own bed across the door of the Prince’s room inside, so that nonecould enter without his knowledge. He asked Onesimus to keep watch inconcealment outside, and make a noise if any one should approach.

  ‘I can imitate exactly the bark of the Empress’s lap-dog,’ saidOnesimus, ‘for Aponia, who has charge of it, often lets me tease it.If I make this noise in the quiet of the night it is sure to setother dogs barking, and then I will spring out of my hiding-place asif the sound had awoke me.’

  Proud of the confidence reposed in him, proud to be the guard of aCæsar’s life, Onesimus put on a black lacerna, shrouded himself ina dark corner, hidden behind the shield of an Amazon. The Palacesank to deep silence, broken only by the faint, distant tramp ofthe sentinel who kept watch outside the passage which led to thecubiculum of the Emperor.

  About an hour after midnight he heard a stealthy footstepapproaching, and saw the occasional gleam of a lantern which washidden under the cloak of the murderer. Breathless with anxiety, hewatched and listened. The slave came near to the room of Britannicus.Noiselessly he placed his lantern on the floor, then he drew a largedagger, and Onesimus saw its blade flash in the light as the wretchexamined it. One instant more and his hand was thrusting an oiled keyinto the lock.

  Then it was that Onesimus gave a short, sharp sound like the barkof a pet dog. The murderer started violently. Onesimus repeated thesound, which was immediately taken up by a dog which belonged to oneof the freedwomen. Hesitating no longer, he leapt out of his shelterwith the challenge, ‘Who goes there?’ and at the same moment Titus,who had slept in his clothes, unfastened the door, and sprang infront of it with a sword in his hand.

  Without staying an instant longer the murderer dashed down hislantern and fled, for slaves and freedmen were heard stirring onevery side. Onesimus did not attempt to pursue him, but quietlyslipped back to his own cell. He knew that for that night the darkplot was frustrated and Britannicus was safe.

  To the slaves whom the noise had disturbed Titus only said that hehad been troubled by the nightmare, and bade them return to sleep.But not a few of them shrewdly suspected that they had not been toldthe whole truth.