I Am a Barbarian

by Edgar Rice Burroughs

  Then it happened! So much can happen in one or two seconds that it takes so long to tell! The Red driver crowded Numerius, turning in on him in an effort to pinch him off and take the lead. The two chariots crashed together, forcing the left wheel of Numerius' against the third goalpost. The Red swung away, his car undamaged, but that of Numerius rolled completely over on top of him.

  I went absolutely cold. I could see no hope for him. In front of my eyes he would be dragged to death.

  His horses, freed from all restraint, leaped ahead. Then I saw Numerius lying in the sand directly in my path. He had cut the reins even as his car rolled over. To drive over him and win the race would have been entirely proper and ethical by the standards of Roman sportsmanship. It would have given the populace a great thrill and me, doubtless, a tremendous ovation. It would also have given Caligula five hundred thousand sestertii. To throw the race now might cost me my life; daily, Caesar was destroying knights and senators on much less provocation.

  These things passed through my mind as I pulled my team sharply to the right across the path of the Blue. There was a crash, as horses and chariots came together, and as my car rolled over I cut myself loose. The Blue driver was not so fortunate. I tried to reach him before those of his horses that were thrown had lunged to their feet, but I was too late and had to watch the poor devil being dragged to death as his frantic team tore around the arena, which was now full of stable boys attempting to catch the three runaway teams.

  I hurried to Numerius, who still lay where he had fallen. He was only stunned, and as I dragged him to the spina where he would be out of the way of the flying hooves and reeling chariots as the Red driver and the loose teams came around again, he regained consciousness.

  It was all a great show for the sadistic audience, which was standing and screaming its approval. I wondered what was passing in the tortuous convolutions of Caligula's mad brain. I shuddered as I envisioned a cross beside the Via Flaminia. Even a Caesar does not lose five hundred thousand sestertii with any degree of equanimity.

  As Numerius and I left the Circus by the little gate used by attendants and employees, I found Tibur awaiting me. His expression was most serious. "What's the matter?" I asked. "Who's dead? You look as though you had lost your best friend."

  "I am about to," he replied, "unless you go into hiding until time has softened the blow. Caligula is furious. He says that you deliberately threw the race."

  "In a way, I did."

  "How is that?" asked Numerius. "It was the Red driver who caused the accident; no one else is to blame." Of course Numerius did not know what I had done; he thought that I was just the innocent victim of an accident for which I was in no way responsible. When Tibur told him that I had deliberately fouled the Blue to avoid running him down and that Caesar had lost an enormous wager because of this, he was shocked. For a moment he was silent, only placing his hand upon my arm and pressing it.

  Then he said, "There are no words." Nor could any amount of extravagant thanks have as well expressed his gratitude. Presently he turned to Tibur. "What can we do to save Britannicus from the wrath of Caesar?" he asked.

  "I can hide him out in the home of my wife's mother until the crazy fool has calmed down or forgotten," said Tibur.

  "And get yourself, your wife's mother, and your wife whipped to death or crucified along with me," I said. "No, there is no escape from Caesar, except through Caesar himself. I am going back to the palace immediately and face the music."

  I must admit that I had to concentrate assiduously upon the pride and courage of Cingetorix as I made my way to my apartments, which were close to those of Caligula and Caesonia. Here, my slaves awaited me, for, although a slave myself, Caligula had given me slaves to wait upon me-a couple of Ethiopian boys. I asked them if Caesar had sent for me, but they said that he had not, and I breathed more easily for the respite.

  I took off my torn and soiled tunic, bathed and dressed again, but still no summons from the tyrant. I sent one of the boys to ascertain if he had returned to the palace. He had not. The suspense increased my nervousness, for I am not made of such iron as can contemplate crucifixion with equanimity.

  There came a knock upon the door. It had come! I steeled myself and bade the messenger of death enter. Perhaps Caligula, recalling my long years of loyal service, our boyhood together, had been moved to leniency and was sending a soldier to strike me down, or a slave with poison. Perhaps he would not demand the cross, but, knowing him, I held little hope.

  Following my summons, the door opened. I felt my knees go suddenly weak, and I thought I should fall. It was Attica! The reaction left me momentarily dumb.

  She ran across the room and threw her arms about me. "Darling!" she exclaimed.

  Then my knees did truly almost fold beneath me. This was the first word of endearment Attica had ever spoken to me. "Tibur has told me," she said. She pressed her cheek against my shoulder. "Oh, my darling, now you must live! Caesar could not be so cruel. I shall beg Caesonia to plead for you. I will go myself and beg him to spare you."

  I had her in my arms. Caesar, the Via Flaminia, nothing else meant anything to me now but this one fact: I had Attica in my arms and I was kissing her mouth. "You love me?" I asked. It was difficult, even now, to believe.

  "I have always loved you," she replied. "I was almost sure of it that day when we walked together along the Via Appia beyond the Capena Gate just before you went to Germany. Now I know it. I promised to give you my answer after the races today. You have it."

  A gain there came a knock upon the door. My brief moment of happiness was over. I realized it as another of Caligula's slaves entered the room. "Caesar demands your presence immediately," he said. He emphasized immediately.

  "I'll go to Caesonia at once," exclaimed Attica, "and beg her to intercede."

  I kissed her and forced a smile. "Wait until she has something for which to intercede.

  We may just be borrowing trouble." Attica shook her head, for she knew Caesar; but she promised to wait.

  Caligula was in a black and furious mood when I entered his presence, and I knew that I could expect only the worst. It would be the Via Flaminia for certain.

  "You pig! You blockhead! You fungus!" he screamed at me. "You lost the race so that I would lose five hundred thousand sestertii! How much were you paid? How much did you make out of it, you ingrate?"

  "Nothing, Caesar," I said. "You know me better than to think that."

  "Then why did you do it? I saw you deliberately swing your team into the path of the Blue."

  "I did only what you would have done in my place, Caligula."

  "What do you mean?" he demanded.

  "I did it to save the life of my friend, who would have been trampled to death had I driven over him."

  "He was but a slave," growled Caesar.

  "He was my friend."

  "Didn't you think of me?"

  "I certainly did."

  "What did you think? Tell me."

  "I thought that you would have me crucified."

  Caesar knitted his brows in thought. I imagined that he was debating whether to have me put on the rack before crucifixion.

  "Ever since boyhood you have feared the Via Flaminia," he said presently, with a crooked grin.

  "As you well know, Caligula."

  "Yet you risked it to save the life of a friend."

  For some time he was silent. What twisted, malevolent thoughts were passing through his mad brain? Suddenly he burst into that rasping, hideous laugh with which I was so familiar. Now I knew that his decision was made, that my fate was sealed.

  "I have it!" he exclaimed. "My wager was with Apponius. I shall have him beheaded and confiscate his estates. I shall thus recover my five hundred thousand sestertii and get his entire fortune in addition. Now get out of here, but see that you never throw another race when I have money on you.

  Chapter XX

  A.U.C.793-794 [A.D. 40-41]

  EARLY IN January A.U.C. 793
, Attica and I, having obtained permission from Caesar, were married. As we were both slaves, the ceremony was a simple one-merely a gesture to satisfy our pride-as marriages between slaves could not be legal under Roman law.

  It was, however, remarkable for one circumstance: it amused Caesar to perform the ceremony himself. He even gave a banquet in our honor to which he invited the two consuls, several senators, and other important patricians. Most of these were greatly embarrassed, but they could not refuse the invitation of Caesar, no matter how much they loathed the idea of dining with slaves.

  During the meal, Caligula could scarcely keep his eyes from Attica, an attention which greatly perturbed me. Once he turned to me and said, "It is well for you that your wife is not a patrician."

  "Why?" I asked.

  "Were she, I should take her away from you and marry her myself," he replied.

  I made up my mind then to keep Attica out of sight of Caesar as much as possible; if he could take a general's wife away from him, he could certainly take a slave's. Our honeymoon was of short duration, as Caligula suddenly decided to invade and conquer Britain. As in his other mad schemes, he could brook no delay, and a great expedition was soon formed and on the march. Caesonia and Attica were left behind, the Empress just having given birth to a girl baby which Caligula publicly accepted as his own. Attica told me that even Caesonia could not be certain as to who had fathered it.

  We were away for almost a year on this ridiculous venture. Having come at last to the coast of Gaul directly opposite Britannia, Caesar caused his armies to prepare for battle, and they were thus formed, facing the island of my nativity. I was much excited as the fleet set sail to cross the channel, for now I should soon set foot again upon the soil I loved so well. My only sorrows were that I was coming with an invader and that Attica was not with me.

  We had proceeded but a short distance when Caligula gave the order to come about, and the fleet sailed back to Gaul. What had happened, why this was being done, I could not imagine. But who could fathom the strange vagaries of that mad mind! Upon disembarking, I saw that a throne had been erected near the beach during our absence, and now Caesar seated himself upon it and gave orders that all the trumpeters of the army should sound the attack.

  As the stirring call issued from the brazen throats of the trumpets, I could see not only the officers but the men as well looking in all directions for an enemy. The ranking general hastened to the throne and asked whom the army was to attack.

  "The sea, of course." shouted Caligula. "Let my army seize the spoils of war in proof of the mighty victory we have won."

  "Spoils of war?" questioned the general.

  "Certainly, you numskull!" screamed Caligula. "The shells! The shells! The shells! The treasures of Neptune, who has defied me!"

  The general looked foolish. He was a veteran of many campaigns. His legionaries looked up to him with respect and awe-and now he had to make himself ridiculous by ordering them to gather shells on the seashore. He delegated this duty to a subordinate and went and hid in his tent, sending word to Caesar that he had been suddenly attacked by sickness.

  The soldiers fell to work filling their helmets with shells, amid laughter and coarse joking. It was well for Caesar that they took the whole affair good-naturedly, for incensed Roman legions might well make even a Caesar quail.

  Caligula assumed the mien of a stern and ruthless conqueror, swearing great soldier oaths as he urged his invincibles on to further despoilation of the enemy, until his throne was surrounded by great mounds of shells.

  "These spoils of Ocean shall be dragged behind my chariot when a triumph shall recompense me for this glorious feat of arms," he announced, "and they shall be reserved for the imperial palace and the Capitol."

  At last the silly undertaking was over, largess was distributed to the legionaries, and all returned to camp. Later, Caligula had a lighthouse erected at the spot to immortalize his victory.

  Before returning to Rome, he had many tall Gauls brought to him. They were made to learn the German language, clothe themselves like Germans, and let their hair grow long and dye it red. These were to be the captives that were to walk in chains behind his chariot when he enjoyed his triumph. I wondered how he was to explain that he had made only German captives in Britannia. Perhaps no one would ask him-- certainly no one would who enjoyed life. I did not.

  We were gone from Rome almost a year upon this mad expedition, and when we returned I found that I was the father of a boy-you, my son. Then followed the happiest days that Attica and I had ever known-the happiest that I ever was to know. The only cloud upon our horizon was an occasional indication of interest in Attica on the part of Caligula-an interest which turned her cold from horror but made my blood boil. I am sure that all that kept his foul hands from her was his lifelong subconscious fear of mea fear implanted deeply within his childish mind that time he had spit upon me and I had slapped him.

  Once he said to me, "Do not you, a slave with a beautiful wife, fear lest some man win her away from you?"

  "I have no fear on that score," I said. "I trust Attica."

  "But suppose some man should take her by force?" he persisted.

  "I would kill him," I said.

  "No matter who he was?"

  I looked Caius Caesar Caligula straight in the eye. "Even if it were Caesar," I said, for I knew what was in his vile mind, and I was willing to risk death in an effort to deter him from that which he was contemplating.

  "No other man in all the world dares say to me the things that you are always saying," he grumbled. "I do not know why I let you live." Then he walked away. I breathed more easily, for now I felt that Attica was safe. I thought that I knew my Caligula. I did not tell Attica of this encounter, but I told Tibur and Numerius, and they both swore that if the worst befell me they would protect Attica with their lives.

  "And if he harms her," said Tibur, "I will split the fungus on the same sword that I offered his father."

  Numerius said nothing, but the expression on his face boded ill for anyone who might even so much as cast a carnal glance at Attica. I think that no one ever had two better friends than I, in Tibur and Numerius. The fact that I had won Attica never lessened Numerius' friendship for me. I sometimes thought that it had augmented it, since now he felt even more responsible for my welfare on account of Attica. My sole regret concerning these friendships was that Tibur was a Roman, for I admit that my hatred of them verged upon the fanatical. But it was only a regret: it did not lessen my affection for the great gorilla.

  Upon his return from the expedition against Britannia, Caligula's excesses against every class of society increased. None was immune except the army, which he greatly feared. He sought to destroy the entire Senate piecemeal and with the most diabolic cruelties.

  He decreed the execution of Cassius Bettilinus and commanded his father, Capito, to attend and witness his son's death. I shall never forget the horror and grief depicted upon the old man's face as Caesar issued his commands.

  "You may bid me be present," said Capito, "but you cannot prevent me shutting my eyes.

  Caligula laughed. "Very well," he said, "you shall die then with your son."

  I was forced to witness this execution, as I was forced to witness many others, for Caligula usually kept me near him at such times because he particularly feared assassination. He was not so mad but that he knew that someday one of his victims might turn upon him. Upon this occasion, he had the condemned men's mouths stuffed with sponges, as he often did, to keep them from crying out accusations against him. Upon another occasion, he invited a knight named Pastor to dine with him following the execution of one of his sons; nor did Pastor dare refuse lest he place in jeopardy the life of another son. Caligula told me to watch Pastor to note if he showed any signs of sadness, and he deliberately made joking remarks at which the poor man was compelled to laugh. When Caesar's eyes were not upon him, Pastor's were filled with anguish, but he might have wept and torn his hair and I would
not have informed the monster.

  His degradation of the Senate was such as to have brought a blush of shame to the cheek of the most hardened criminal, and augmented the contempt in which the masses had long held that once honorable body. There was, for instance, the abject spectacle of the senator, Pompeius Pennus, a very old man who had held high offices in the State. An accusation had been brought against him, but Caligula had pardoned him. He then compelled the senator to kneel before him in public and kiss his foot. Not content with such humiliations, he caused members of this once august body to assume in public the role of executioner.

  Not only had he contrived to turn the knights and senators against him, but by exorbitant taxes he lost the good will of the common people. H is taxes upon all foods brought into the city, upon all trades, and upon their amusements as well so enraged the populace that there had been a serious demonstration against him in September of A.U.C. 793, at which time Caligula had set his soldiers upon the crowd, killing and wounding many, severing the last bond of affection they had ever felt for him.

  The army, which had for long been loyal to their Little Boots, was disgusted by his silly and cowardly antics in Gaul against the Germans and the Britons. They were ashamed to serve under such an emperor. Thus he had lost his last and strongest ally among his own people. All that was left to him were the German troops which constituted his imperial bodyguard, whose loyalty he preserved by lavish gifts of money and the bestowal of favors. Such was the situation in Rome at the beginning of the 794th year from the founding of the city.

  Caligula had become more and more fearful of assassination at the hands of the Senate or the knights, of rebellion of the populace, or of the mutiny and revolt of the army. "They all hate me," he said to me early one morning as, sleepless, he paced the porticoes. "The Senate, the people, the army." And then he repeated that seeming challenge which was but an admission of his great weakness and his great fear: "I care not if men hate me, just so they fear me."