A Friend of Cæsar: A Tale of the Fall of the Roman Republic. Time, 50-47 B.C.

by William Stearns Davis

  Chapter XVII

  The Profitable Career of Gabinius

  Very wretched had been the remnants of Dumnorix's band of gladiators,when nightfall had covered them from pursuit by the enragedPraenestians. And for some days the defeated assassins led a desperatestruggle for existence on the uplands above the Latin plain. Then,when the hue and cry aroused by their mad exploit had died away,Dumnorix was able to reorganize his men into a regular horde ofbanditti. In the sheltered valleys of the upper Apennines they foundmoderately safe and comfortable fastnesses, and soon around themgathered a number of unattached highwaymen, who sought protection andprofit in allying themselves with the band led by the redoubtablelanista. But if Dumnorix was the right arm of this noble company,Publius Gabinius was its head. The Roman had sorely missed the loss ofthe thousand and one luxuries that made his former life worth living.But, as has been said, he had become sated with almost every currentamusement and vice; and when the freshness of the physical hardshipsof his new career was over, he discovered that he had just begun totaste joys of which he would not soon grow weary.

  And so for a while the bandits ranged over the mountains, infested theroads, stopped travellers to ease them of their purses, or even dasheddown on outlying country houses, which they plundered, and leftburning as beacons of their handiwork. Even this occupation after atime, however, grew monotonous to Gabinius. To be sure, a goodly pileof money was accumulating in the hut where he and Dumnorix, hisfellow-leader, made their headquarters; and the bandits carried awaywith them to their stronghold a number of slave and peasant girls, whoaided to make the camp the scene of enough riot and orgy to satisfythe most graceless; but Gabinius had higher ambitions than these. Hecould not spend the gold on dinner parties, or bronze statuettes; andthe maidens picked up in the country made a poor contrast to his citysweethearts. Gabinius was planning a great piece of _finesse_. He hadnot forgotten Fabia; least of all had he forgotten how he had had heras it were in his very arms, and let her vanish from him as though shehad been a "shade" of thin air. If he must be a bandit, he would be anoriginal one. A Vestal taken captive by robbers! A Vestal imprisonedin the hold of banditti, forced to become the consort, lawful orunlawful, of the brigands' chief! The very thought grew and grew inGabinius's imagination, until he could think of little else. Dumnorixand his comrades trusted him almost implicitly; he had been successfulas their schemer and leader in several dark enterprises, that provedhis craft if not his valour. He would not fail in this.

  An overmastering influence was drawing him to Rome. He took one or twofellow-spirits in his company, and ventured over hill and valley tothe suburbs of the city on a reconnoissance, while by night heventured inside the walls.

  The capital he found in the ferment that preceded the expulsion of thetribunes, on the fateful seventh of January. Along with many anotherevil-doer, he and his followers filched more than one wallet duringthe commotions and tumults. He dared not show himself very openly. Hiscrime had been too notorious to be passed over, even if committedagainst a doomed Caesarian like Drusus; besides, he was utterly withoutany political influence that would stand him in good stead. But aroundthe Atrium Vestae he lurked in the dark, spying out the land andwaiting for a glimpse of Fabia. Once only his eye caught a white-robedstately figure appearing in the doorway toward evening, a figure whichinstinct told him was the object of his passion. He had to restrainhimself, or he would have thrown off all concealment then and there,and snatched her away in his arms. He saved himself that folly, buthis quest seemed hopeless. However weak the patrol in other parts ofthe city, there was always an ample watch around the Atrium Vestae.

  Gabinius saw that his stay around Rome was only likely to bring himinto the clutches of the law, and reluctantly he started back, by anight journey in a stolen wagon, for the safer hill country beyond theAnio. But he was not utterly cast down. He had overheard the streettalk of two equites, whom in more happy days he had known as risingpoliticians.

  "I hope the consuls are right," the first had said, "that Caesar's armywill desert him."

  "_Perpol_," responded the other, "your wish is mine! If the proconsulreally _does_ advance, nothing will stand between him and the city!"

  Gabinius kept his own counsel. "In times of war and confusion, theextremity of the many is the opportunity of the few," was the maxim herepeated to himself.

  When he was well out of the city and moving up the Via Salaria, thetrot and rattle of an approaching carriage drifted up upon him.

  "Shall we stop and strip them?" asked Dromo, one of the accompanyingbrigands, in a matter-of-fact tone.

  "Ay," responded Gabinius, reining in his own plodding draught-horse,and pulling out a short sword. "Let us take what the Fates send!"

  A moment later and Servius Flaccus was being tumbled out of hiscomfortable travelling carriage, while one brigand stood guard overhim with drawn sabre, a second held at bay his trembling driver andwhimpering valet, and a third rifled his own person and hisconveyance. There was a bright moon, and the luckless traveller's gazefastened itself on the third bandit.

  "By all the gods, Gabinius!" cried Servius, forgetting to lisp hisGreekisms, "don't you know me? Let me go, for old friendship's sake!"

  Gabinius turned from his task, and held to his nose a glassscent-bottle he had found in the vehicle.

  "Ah! amice," he responded deliberately, "I really did not anticipatethe pleasure of meeting you thus! You are returning very late to Romefrom your Fidenae villa. But this is very excellent oil of rose!"

  "Enough of this, man!" expostulated the other. "The jest has gonequite far enough. Make this horrible fellow lower that sword."

  "Not until I have finished making up my package of little articles,"replied Gabinius, "and," suiting the action to the word, "relievedyour fingers of the weight of those very heavy rings."

  "Gabinius," roared Servius, in impotent fury, "what are you doing? Areyou a common bandit?"

  "A bandit, my excellent friend," was his answer, "but not a commonone; no ordinary footpad could strip the noble Servius Flaccus withouta harder struggle."

  Servius burst into lamentations.

  "My box of unguents! My precious rings! My money-bag! You are notleaving me one valuable! Have you sunk as low as this?"

  "Really," returned the robber, "I have no time to convince you thatthe brigand's life is the only one worth living. You do not care tojoin our illustrious brotherhood? No? Well, I must put these trinketsand fat little wallet in my own wagon. I leave you your cloak out ofold friendship's sake. Really you must not blame me. RememberEuripides's line:--

  "'Money can warp the judgment of a God.'

  Thus I err in good company. And with this, _vale!_"

  Flaccus was left with his menials to clamber back into his plunderedcarriage. Gabinius drove his horse at topmost speed, and beforemorning was saluted by the remainder of the banditti, near theirmountain stronghold. Dumnorix met him with news.

  "It is rumoured in the country towns that Caesar is driving all beforehim in the north, and will be down on Rome in less days than I havefingers."

  Gabinius clapped his hands.

  "And we will be down on Rome, and away from it, before a legionaryshows himself at the gates!"