Chapter XIX
The Hospitality of Demetrius
I
While grave senators were contending, tribunes haranguing, imperatorsgirding on the sword, legions marching, cohorts clashing,--while allthis history was being made in the outside world, Cornelia, verydesolate, very lonely, was enduring her imprisonment at Baiae.
If she had had manacles on her wrists and fetters on her feet, shewould not have been the more a prisoner. Lentulus Crus had determined,with the same grim tenacity of purpose which led him to plunge a worldinto war, that his niece should comply with his will and marry LuciusAhenobarbus. He sent down to Baiae, Phaon,--the evil-eyed freedman ofAhenobarbus,--and gave to that worthy full power to do anything hewished to break the will of his prospective patroness. Cassandra hadbeen taken away from Cornelia--she could not learn so much as whetherthe woman had been scourged to death for arranging the interview withDrusus, or no. Two ill-favoured slatternly Gallic maids, the scouringsof the Puteoli slave-market, had been forced upon Cornelia as herattendants--creatures who stood in abject fear of the whip of Phaon,and who obeyed his mandates to the letter. Cornelia was never out ofsight of some person whom she knew was devoted to Lentulus, or ratherto Phaon and his patron. She received no letters save those from hermother, uncle, or Ahenobarbus; she saw no visitors; she was notallowed to go outside of the walls of the villa, nor indeed upon anyof its terraces where she would be exposed to sight from without,whether by land or sea. At every step, at every motion, she wasconfronted with the barriers built around her, and by theconsciousness that, so long as she persisted in her present attitude,her durance was likely to continue unrelaxed.
Cornelia was thirsty for the news from the world without. Her keeperswere dumb to the most harmless inquiry. Her mother wrote more of thelatest fashions than of the progress of events in the Senate and inthe field; besides, Claudia--as Cornelia knew very well--never tookher political notions from any one except her brother-in-law, andCornelia noted her mother's rambling observations accordingly.Lentulus studiously refrained from adverting to politics in letters tohis niece. Ahenobarbus wrote of wars and rumours of wars, but in atone of such partisan venom and overreaching sarcasm touching allthings Caesarian, that Cornelia did not need her prejudices to tell herthat Lucius was simply abusing her credulity.
Then at last all the letters stopped. Phaon had no explanation togive. He would not suffer his evil, smiling lips to tell the story ofthe flight of the oligarchs from Rome, and confess that Lentulus andClaudia were no farther off than Capua. The consul had ordered thathis niece should not know of their proximity and its cause,--lest shepluck up hope, and all his coercion be wasted. So there was silence,and that was all. Even her mother did not write to her. Cornelia grewvery, very lonely and desolate--more than words may tell. She had oneconsolation--Drusus was not dead, or she would have been informed ofit! Proof that her lover was dead would have been a most delightfulweapon in Lentulus's hands, too delightful to fail to use instantly.And so Cornelia hoped on.
She tried again to build a world of fantasy, of unreal delight, aroundher; to close her eyes, and wander abroad with her imagination. Sheroamed in reverie over land and sea, from Atlantis to Serica; anddwelt in the dull country of the Hyperboreans and saw the gold-sandedplains of the Ethiops. She took her Homer and fared with Odysseus intoPolyphemus's cave, and out to the land of Circe; and heard the Sirenssing, and abode on Calypso's fairy isle; and saw the maiden Nausicaaand her maids at the ball-play on the marge of the stream. But it wassorry work; for ever and again the dream-woven mist would break, andthe present--stern, unchanging, joyless--she would see, and that only.
Cornelia was thrown more and more back on her books. In fact, had shebeen deprived of that diversion, she must have succumbed in sheerwretchedness; but Phaon, for all his crafty guile, did not realizethat a roll of AEschylus did almost as much to undo his jailer's workas a traitor among his underlings.
The library was a capacious, well-lighted room, prettily frescoed, andprovided with comfortably upholstered couches. In the niches were afew choice busts: a Sophocles, a Xenophon, an Ennius, and one or twoothers. Around the room in wooden presses were the rolled volumes onEgyptian papyrus, each labelled with author and title in bright redmarked on the tablet attached to the cylinder of the roll. Here werethe poets and historians of Hellas; the works of Plato, Aristotle,Callimachus, Apollonius Rhodius and the later Greek philosophers.Here, too, were books which the Greek-hating young lady loved best ofall--the rough metres of Livius Andronicus and Cnaeus Naevius, whoseuncouth lines of the old Saturnian verse breathed of the hale, hearty,uncultured, uncorrupted life of the period of the First Punic War.Beside them were the other great Latinists: Ennius, Plautus, Terence,and furthermore, Pacuvius and Cato Major, Lucilius, the memoirs ofSulla, the orations of Antonius "the orator" and Gracchus, and thehistories of Claudius Quadrigarius and Valerius Antias.
The library became virtually Cornelia's prison. She read tragedy,comedy, history, philosophy,--anything to drive from her breast herarch enemy, thought. But if, for example, she turned to ApolloniusRhodius and read--
"Amidst them all, the son of AEson chief Shone forth divinely in his comeliness, And graces of his form. On him the maid Looked still askance, and gazed him o'er;"[163]
[163] Elton, translator.
straightway she herself became Medea, Jason took on the form ofDrusus, and she would read no more; "while," as the next line of thelearned poet had it, "grief consumed her heart."
Only one other recreation was left her. Artemisia had not been takenaway by Phaon, who decided that the girl was quite impotent to thwarthis ends. Cornelia devoted much of her time to teaching the brightlittle Greek. The latter picked up the scraps of knowledge with asurprising readiness, and would set Cornelia a-laughing by her_naivete_, when she soberly intermixed her speech with bits of gravepoetical and philosophical lore, uttered more for sake of sound thansense.
As a matter of fact, however, Cornelia was fast approaching a pointwhere her position would have been intolerable. She did not even havethe stimulus that comes from an active aggressive persecution. Drususwas in the world of action, not forgetful of his sweetheart, yet notpent up to solitary broodings on his ill-fated passion. Cornelia wasthrust back upon herself, and found herself a very discontented,wretched, love-lorn, and withal--despite her polite learning--ignorantyoung woman, who took pleasure neither in sunlight nor starlight; whosaw a mocking defiance in every dimple of the sapphire bay; who saw ineach new day merely a new period for impotent discontent. Somethinghad to determine her situation, or perhaps she would not indeed havebowed her head to her uncle's will; but she certainly would have beendriven to resolutions of the most desperate nature.
Cornelia had practically lost reckoning of time and seasons. She hadceased hoping for a letter from her mother; even a taunting missivefrom Ahenobarbus would have been a diversion. She was so closelyguarded that she found herself praying that Drusus would not try tosteal a second interview, for the attempt might end in his murder.Only one stray crumb of comfort at last did she obtain, and it wasArtemisia who brought it to her. The girl had been allowed by Phaon towalk outside the grounds of the villa for a little way, and her prettyface had won the good graces of one or two slave-boys in an adjoiningseaside house. Artemisia came back full of news which they hadimparted: the consuls had fled from Rome; Pompeius was retreatingbefore Caesar; the latest rumour had it that Domitius was shut up inCorfinium and likely to come off hardly.
The words were precious as rubies to Cornelia. She went all that dayand the next with her head in the air. Perhaps with a lover's subtleomniscience she imagined that it was Drusus who had some part inbringing Domitius to bay. She pictured the hour when he--with a legionno doubt at his back--would come to Baiae, not a stealthy, forbiddenlover, but a conqueror, splendid in the triumph of his arms; wouldenter the villa with a strong hand, and lead her forth in the eyes ofall the world--his wife! and then back to Praeneste, to Rome--happy asthe Immortals on Oly
mpus; and what came after, Cornelia neitherthought nor cared.
On those days the sea was lovely, the sunlight fair, and all thecircling sea-gulls as they hovered over the waves cried shrilly one tothe other; "How good is all the world!" And then, just as Cornelia wasbeginning to count the hours,--to wonder whether it would be one dayor ten before Drusus would be sufficiently at liberty to ride overhill and dale to Baiae,--Phaon thrust himself upon her.
"Your ladyship," was his curt statement, "will have all thingsprepared in readiness to take ship for Greece, to-morrow morning."
"For Greece!" was the agonized exclamation.
"Certainly; it is useless to conceal matters from your ladyship now.Caesar has swept all Italy. Corfinium may fall at any time. Hisexcellency the consul Lentulus is now at Brundusium. He orders me toput you on board a vessel that has just finished her lading for thePiraeus."
This then was the end of all those glittering day-dreams! Caesar'svictories only would transfer Cornelia to a more secure bondage. Shehad enough pride left not to moan aloud and plead with an animal likePhaon not to crush her utterly. In fact she was benumbed, and did notfully sense the changed situation. She went through a mechanicalprocess of collecting her wardrobe, of putting her jewellery in casesand boxes, of laying aside for carriage a few necessaries forArtemisia. Phaon, who had expected a terrible scene when he made hisannouncement, observed to himself that, "The domina is more sensiblethan I supposed. I think her uncle will have his way now soon enough,if Master Lucius does not get his throat cut at Corfinium." And havingthus concluded to himself,--satisfactorily, if erroneously,--he, too,made arrangements for the voyage impending.
II
Cornelia's sleeping room was large and airy. It had windowsoverlooking the sea--windows closed by the then extravagant luxury ofpanes of glass. When these were swung back the full sweep of thesouthwest wind poured its mild freshness into the room. The apartmentwas decorated and furnished with every taste and luxury. In one cornerwas the occupant's couch,--the frame inlaid with ivory andtortoise-shell, the mattress soft with the very choicest feathers ofwhite German geese. Heaped on the cushion were gorgeous coverlets, ofpurple wool or even silk, and embroidered with elaborate figures, orcovered with rare feather tapestry. Around the room were silvermirrors, chairs, divans, cabinets, dressers, and elegant tripods.
On one of the divans slept Artemisia, and just outside of the door oneof the Gallic maids, whom Cornelia detested so heartily.
When Artemisia's curly head touched her pillow, its owner was fastasleep in an instant. When her patroness sank back on the cushionsworth a king's ransom, Somnus, Hypnus, or whatever name the drowsy godmay be called by, was far from present. Cornelia tossed on thepillows, tossed and cried softly to herself. The battle was too hard!She had tried: tried to be true to Drusus and her own higheraspirations. But there was some limit to her strength, and Corneliafelt that limit very near at hand. Earlier in the conflict with heruncle she had exulted in the idea that suicide was always in herpower; now she trembled at the thought of death, at the thought ofeverything contained in the unlovely future. She did not want to die,to flicker out in nothingness, never to smile and never to laughagain. Why should she not be happy--rightly happy? Was she not aCornelian, a Claudian, born to a position that a princess might enjoy?Was not wealth hers, and a fair degree of wit and a handsome face? Whythen should she, the patrician maiden, eat her heart out, while closeat hand Artemisia, poor little foundling Greek, was sleeping assweetly as though people never grieved nor sorrows tore the soul?
Cornelia was almost angry with Artemisia for being thus oblivious toand shielded from calamity. So hot in fact did her indignation becomeagainst the innocent girl, that Cornelia herself began to smile at herown passion. And there was one thought very comforting to her pride.
"Artemisia is only an uneducated slave, or little better than a slave;if she were in my station she would be just as unhappy. I am wretchedjust in proportion to the greatness of my rank;" then she added toherself, "_Hei!_ but how wretched then the gods must be!" And thenagain she smiled at admitting for an instant that there were any godsat all; had not her philosophy taught her much better?
So at last Cornelia turned over the pillows for the last time, andfinally slept, in heavy, dreamless slumber.
* * * * *
Cornelia did not know at what watch of the night she awoke; awoke, notsuddenly, but slowly, as consciousness stole over her that _something_was happening. It was a dark, cloudy night, yet a strange red lightwas glinting faintly through the windows and making very dim panels onthe rugs of the floor. There was a bare gleam of fire from thecharcoal in the portable metal stove that stood in a remote corner ofthe room to dispel the chill of night. Artemisia was stirring in hersleep, and saying something--probably in a one-sided dream-dialogue.Cornelia opened her eyes, shut them again; peeped forth a second time,and sat up in bed. There was a confused din without, many voicesspeaking at once, all quite unintelligible, though now and then shecaught a few syllables of Greek. The din grew louder and louder. Atthe same time, as if directly connected with the babel, the strangelight flamed up more brightly--as if from many advancing torches.Cornelia shook the sleep from her eyes, and flung back the coverlets.What was it? She had not yet reached the stage of feeling any terror.
Suddenly, drowning all lesser noise, came the blows of a heavy timberbeating on the main door of the villa.
Crash! and with the stroke, a torrent of wild shouts, oaths, andimprecations burst forth from many score throats.
Crash! The slaves sleeping near the front door began to howl andshout. The great Molossian hound that stood watch was barking andsnapping. The Gallic maid sprang from her pallet by Cornelia's door,and gave a shrill, piercing scream. Artemisia was sitting up on herbed, rubbing her eyes, blinking at the strange light, and about tobegin to cry. Cornelia ran over the floor to her.
"_A! A!_ what is going to happen!" whimpered the girl.
"I do not know, _philotata_"[164] said Cornelia in Greek, putting herhand on Artemisia's cheek; "but don't cry, and I'll soon find out."
[164] Dearest one.
Crash! and at this the door could be heard to fall inward. Then, withyells of triumph and passion, there was a great sweep of feet over thethreshold, and the clang of weapons and armour. Cornelia found herselfbeginning to tremble. As she stepped across the room, she passedbefore her largest mirror, whereon the outside light was shiningdirectly. She saw herself for an instant; her hair streaming down herback, her only dress her loose white tunic, her arms bare, and nothingon her throat except a string of yellow amber beads. "And my feet arebare," she added to herself, diverted from her panic by her womanlyembarrassment. She advanced toward the door, but had not long to wait.Down below the invaders had burst loose in wild pillage, then up intothe sleeping room came flying a man--Phaon, his teeth chattering, hisface ghastly with fright.
"Domina! domina!" and he knelt and seized Cornelia's robe. "Save, _A!_save! We are undone! Pirates! They will kill us all! _Mu! mu!_ don'tlet them murder me!"
A moment longer and Cornelia, in her rising contempt, would havespurned him with her foot. There were more feet on the stairway.Glaring torches were tossing over gold inlaid armour. A man of unusualheight and physique strode at the head of the oncomers, clutching anddragging by the wrist a quivering slave-boy.
"Your mistress, boy! where is she? Point quickly, if you would notdie!" cried the invader, whom we shall at once recognize as Demetrius.
Cornelia advanced to the doorway, and stood in her maidenly dignity,confronting the pirates, who fell back a step, as though before anapparition.
"I am the Lady Cornelia, mistress of the villa," she said slowly,speaking in tones of high command. "On what errand do you come thusunseasonably, and with violence?"
Whereat, out from the little group of armed men sprang one clad incostly, jewel-set armour, like the rest, but shorter than the others,and with fair hair flowing down from his helmet on to his
shoulders.
"Domina, do you not know me? Do not be afraid."
"Agias!" cried Cornelia, in turn giving back a step.
"Assuredly," quoth the young Hellene, nothing dismayed; "and with yourleave, this great man is Demetrius, my cousin, whose trade, perchance,is a little irregular, but who has come hither not so much to plunderas to save you from the clutches of his arch-enemy's son, LuciusAhenobarbus."
Cornelia staggered, and caught the curtain in the doorway to keep fromfalling.
"Has Master Drusus sent him to me?" she asked, very pale around thelips.
"Master Drusus is at Corfinium. No one knows what will be the issue ofthe war, for Pompeius is making off. It is I who counselled my cousinto come to Baiae."
"Then what will you do with me? How may I dare to trust you? Delivermyself into the hands of pirates! Ah! Agias, I did not think that_you_ would turn to such a trade!"
The youth flushed visibly, even under the ruddy torchlight.
"Oh, lady," he cried, "have I not always been true to you? I am nopirate, and you will not blame my cousin, when you have heard hisstory. But do not fear us. Come down to the ship--Fabia is there,waiting for you."
"Fabia!" and again Cornelia was startled. Then, fixing her deep gazefull on Agias, "I believe you speak the truth. If not you--whom?Take--take me!"
And she fell forward in a swoon, and Demetrius caught her in hispowerful arms.
"This is the affianced wife of Quintus Drusus?" he cried to Agias.
"None other."
"She is worthy of Sextus's son. A right brave lady!" cried the pirate."But this is no place for her, poor thing. Here, Eurybiades," and headdressed a lieutenant,--an athletic, handsome Hellene likehimself,--"carry the lady down to the landing, put her on the trireme,and give her to Madam Fabia. Mind you lift her gently."
"Never fear," replied the other, picking up his burden carefully. "Whowould not delight to bear Aphrodite to the arms of Artemis!"
And so for a while sight, sound, and feeling were at an end forCornelia, but for Agias the adventures of the evening were but justbegun. The pirates had broken loose in the villa, and Demetrius madenot the slightest effort to restrain them. On into the desertedbedroom, ahead of the others, for reasons of his own, rushed Agias. Ashe came in, some one cried out his name, and a second vision in whiteconfronted him.
"_Ai! ai!_ Agias, I knew you would come!" and then and there, with thesword-blades glinting, and the armed men all around, Artemisia tossedher plump arms around his neck.
"The nymph, attendant on Aphrodite!" cried Demetrius, laughing. Andthen, when Artemisia saw the strange throng and the torches, and heardthe din over the villa, she hung down her head in mingled fear andmortification. But Agias whispered something in her ear, that made herlift her face, laughing, and then he in turn caught her up in his armsto hasten down to the landing--for the scene was becoming one oflittle profit for a maid. Groans and entreaties checked him. Twopowerful Phoenician seamen were dragging forward Phaon, half clothed,trembling at every joint. "Mercy! Mercy! Oh! Master Agias, oh! Yourexcellency, _clarissime_,[165] _despotes!_[166]" whined the wretchedman, now in Latin, now in Greek, "ask them to spare me; don't let themmurder me in cold blood!"
[165] Very distinguished sir.
[166] Master.
"_Ai!_" cried Demetrius. "What fool have we here? Do you know him,Agias?"
"He is the freedman of Lucius Ahenobarbus. I can vouch for hischaracter, after its way."
"_O-op!_"[167] thundered the chief, "drag him down to the boats! I'llspeak with him later!"
[167] _O-op_--avast there.
And Agias carried his precious burden down to the landing-place, whilethe seamen followed with their captive.
Once Artemisia safe on her way to the trireme, which was a little offshore, Agias ran back to the villa; the pirates were ransacking itthoroughly. Everything that could be of the slightest value wasruthlessly seized upon, everything else recklessly destroyed. Thepirates had not confined their attack to the Lentulan residence alone.Rushing down upon the no less elaborate neighbouring villas, theyforced in the gates, overcame what slight opposition the tremblingslaves might make, and gave full sway to their passion for plunder andrapine. The noble ladies and fine gentlemen who had dared thepolitical situation and lingered late in the season to enjoy thepleasures of Baiae, now found themselves roughly dragged away intocaptivity to enrich the freebooters by their ransoms. From pillage thepirates turned to arson, Demetrius in fact making no effort to controlhis men. First a fragile wooden summer-house caught the blaze of atorch and flared up; then a villa itself, and another and another. Theflames shot higher and higher, great glowing, wavering pyramids ofheat, roaring and crackling, flinging a red circle of glowing light intoward the mainland by Cumae, and shimmering out over the bay towardProchyta. Overhead was the inky dome of the heavens, and below fire;fire, and men with passions unreined.
Demetrius stood on the terrace of the burning villa of the Lentuli,barely himself out of range of the raging heat. As Agias came near tohim, the gilded Medusa head emblazoned on his breastplate glared out;the loose scarlet mantle he wore under his armour was red as if dippedin hot blood; he seemed the personification of Ares, the destroyer,the waster of cities. The pirate was gazing fixedly on the blazingwreck and ruin. His firm lips were set with an expression grave andhard. He took no part in the annihilating frenzy of his men.
"This is terrible destruction!" cried Agias in his ear, for the roarof the flames was deafening, he himself beginning to turn sick at thesight of the ruin.
"It is frightful," replied Demetrius, gloomily; "why did the gods everdrive me to this? My men are but children to exult as they do; as boyslove to tear the thatch from the roof of a useless hovel, in sheerwantonness. I cannot restrain them."
At this instant a seaman rushed up in breathless haste.
"_Eleleu!_ Captain, the soldiers are on us. There must have been acohort in Cumae."
Whereat the voice of Demetrius rang above the shouts of the plunderersand the crash and roar of the conflagration, like a trumpet:--
"Arms, men! Gather the spoil and back to the ships! Back for yourlives!"
Already the cohort of Pompeian troops, that had not yet evacuatedCumae, was coming up on the double-quick, easily guided by the burningbuildings which made the vicinity bright as day. The pirates ran likecats out of the blazing villas, bounded over terraces and walls, andgathered near the landing-place by the Lentulan villa. The soldierswere already on them. For a moment it seemed as though the cohort wasabout to drive the whole swarm of the marauders over the sea-wall, andmake them pay dear for their night's diversion. But the masterlyenergy of Demetrius turned the scale. With barely a score of menbehind him, he charged the nearest century so impetuously that itbroke like water before him; and when sheer numbers had swept hislittle group back, the other pirates had rallied on the very brink oftie sea-wall, and returned to the charge.
Never was battle waged more desperately. The pirates knew that to bedriven back meant to fall over a high embankment into water so shallowas to give little safety in a dive; capture implied crucifixion. Theironly hope was to hold their own while their boats took them off to theships in small detachments. The conflagration made the narrowbattle-field as bright as day. The soldiers were brave, and for newrecruits moderately disciplined. The pirates could hardly bear upunder the crushing discharge of darts, and the steady onset of themaniples. Up and down the contest raged, swaying to and fro like thewaves of the sea. Again and again the pirates were driven so near tothe brink of the seawall that one or two would fall, dashed to instantdeath on the submerged rocks below. Demetrius was everywhere at once,as it were, precisely when he was most needed, always exposinghimself, always aggressive. Even while he himself fought for dearlife, Agias admired as never before the intelligently orderedpuissance of his cousin.
The boats to and from the landing were pulled with frantic energy. Theships had run in as close as possible, but they could not use their_b
alistae_,[168] for fear of striking down friend as well as foe. Asrelays of pirates were carried away, the position of the remainderbecame the more desperate with their lessening numbers. The boats cameback for the last relay. Demetrius drew the remnant of his mentogether, and charged so furiously that the whole cohort gave way,leaving the ground strewn with its own slain. The pirates rushed madlyaboard the boats, they sunk them to the gunwales; other fugitivesclung to the oars. At perilous risk of upsetting they thrust off, justas the rallied soldiers ran down to the landing-place. Demetrius andAgias were the only ones standing on the embankment. They had been thelast to retire, and therefore the boats had filled without them.
[168] Missile-throwing engines.
A great cry went up from the pirates.
"Save the captain!" and some boats began to back water, loaded asthey were; but Demetrius motioned them back with his hand.
"Can you swim, boy!" he shouted to Agias, while both tore off theirbody-armour. Their shields had already dropped. Agias shook his headdoubtfully.
"My arm is hurt," he muttered.
"No matter!" and Demetrius seized his cousin under one armpit, andstepped down from the little landing-platform into the water justbelow. A single powerful stroke sent the two out of reach of the swingof the sword of the nearest soldier. The front files of the cohort hadpressed down on to the landing in a dense mass, loath to let go itsprey.
"Let fly, men!" cried Demetrius, as he swam, and javelins spat intothe water about him.
It was a cruel thing to do. The three pirate vessels, two largetriremes and the yacht, discharged all their enginery. Heavy stonescrashed down upon the soldiers, crushing several men together. Hugearrows tore through shield and armour, impaling more than one body. Itwas impossible to miss working havoc in so close a throng. The troops,impotent to make effective reply, turned in panic and fled toward theupper terraces to get beyond the decimating artillery. The piratesraised a great shout of triumph that shook the smoke-veiled skies. Afresh boat, pulling out from one of the vessels, rescued the captainand Agias; and soon the two cousins were safe on board the triremeDemetrius used as his flagship.
The pirates swarmed on the decks and rigging and cheered the escape oftheir commander. On shore the burning buildings were still sending uptheir pillars of flame. The water and sky far out to sea were red, andbeyond, blackness. Again the pirates shouted, then at the order oftheir commander the cables creaked, the anchors rose, hundreds of longoars flashed in the lurid glare, and the three vessels slipped overthe dark waves.
Demetrius remained on the poop of his ship; Agias was below in thecabin, bending over Artemisia, who was already smiling in her sleep.
III
When Cornelia awoke, it was with Fabia bending over her at thebedside. The portholes of the cabin were open; the warm, freshsouthern wind was pouring in its balmy sweetness. Cornelia pressed herhands to her eyes, then looked forth. The cabin ceiling was low, butstudded with rare ornamental bronze work; the furniture glittered withgilding and the smooth sheen of polished ivory; the tapestry of thecurtains and on the walls was of the choicest scarlet wool, and Coansilk, semi-transparent and striped with gold. Gold plating shone onthe section of the mast enclosed within the cabin. An odour of therarest Arabian frankincense was wafted from the pastils burning on acuriously wrought tripod of Corinthian brass. The upholsteries andrugs were more splendid than any that Cornelia had seen gracing thepalace of Roman patrician.
Thus it came to pass that Fabia repeated over and over again toCornelia the tale of recent happenings, until the latter's sorelyperturbed brain might comprehend. And then, when Cornelia understoodit all: how that she was not to go to Greece with Phaon; how that shewas under the protection of a man who owed his life to Sextus Drusus,and hated the Ahenobarbi with a perfect hatred; how that Demetrius hadsworn to carry her to Alexandria, where, safe out of the way of warand commotion, she might await the hour when Drusus should be free tocome for her--when, we repeat, she understood all this, and how itcame to pass that the Vestal herself was on the vessel,--then Corneliastrained Fabia to her breast, and laid her head on the elder woman'sshoulder, and cried and cried for very relief of soul. Then she aroseand let the maids Demetrius had sent to serve her--dark-skinnedHindoos, whose words were few, but whose fingers quick and dexterous--dress her from the very complete wardrobe that the sea prince hadplaced at her disposal.
Never before had the sunlight shone so fair; never before had thesniff of the sea-breeze been so sweet. The galleys were still in thebay, close by Prochyta, scarce a mile and a half from the nearestmainland. The pirates were landing to procure water from the desolate,unsettled isle. The bay was dancing and sparkling with ten milliongolden ripples; the sun had risen high enough above the green hills ofthe coast-land to spread a broad pathway of shimmering fire across thewaters. Not a cloud flecked the light-bathed azure. Up from theforward part of the ships sounded the notes of tinkling cithera andthe low-breathing double flutes[169] in softest Lydian mood. In andout of the cabin passed bronzed-faced Ethiopian mutes with silver cupsof the precious Mareotic white wine of Egypt for the lady, and platesof African pomegranates, Armenian apricots, and strange sweetmeatsflavoured with a marvellous powder, an Oriental product worth itsweight in gold as a medicine, which later generations were todesignate under the name of sugar.
[169] _Tibiae_.
And so Cornelia was refreshed and dressed; and when the maids held themirror before her and she saw that the gold trinkets were shining inher hair, and the jewels which Demetrius had sent her were sparklingbrightly at her throat, and realized that she was very fair tosee,--then she laughed, the first real, unforced laugh for many aweary day, whereupon she laughed again and again, and grew the morepleased with her own face when she beheld a smile upon it. Then Fabiakissed her, and told her that no woman was ever more beautiful; andthe dark Indian maids drew back, saying nothing, but admiring withtheir eyes. So Cornelia went up upon the deck, where Demetrius came tomeet her. If she had been a Semiramis rewarding a deserving general,she could not have been more queenly. For she thanked him and hislieutenants with a warm gratitude which made every rough seaman feelhimself more than repaid, and yet throughout it all bore herself asthough the mere privilege on their part of rescuing her ought to besufficient reward and honour. Then Demetrius knelt down before all hismen, and kissed the hem of her robe, and swore that he would devotehimself and all that was his to her service, until she and QuintusDrusus should meet, with no foe to come between; so swore all thepirates after their captain, and thus it was Cornelia entered into herlife on the ship of the freebooters.
Other work, however, was before Demetrius that day, than castingglances of dutiful admiration at the stately lady that had deigned toaccept his hospitality. Out from the various other cabins, lessluxurious assuredly than the one in which Cornelia had awakened, thepirates led their several captives to stand before the chief.Demetrius, indeed, had accomplished what he euphemistically describedas "a fair night's work." Half a dozen once very fashionable and nowvery disordered and dejected noble ladies and about as many more sadlybedraggled fine gentlemen were haled before his tribunal for judgment.The pirate prince stood on the raised roof of a cabin, a step higherthan the rest of the poop. He was again in his splendid armour, hisnaked sword was in his hand, at his side was stationed Eurybiades andhalf a score more stalwart seamen, all swinging their bare cutlasses.Demetrius nevertheless conducted his interrogations with perhapssuperfluous demonstrations of courtesy, and a general distribution ofpolite "domini" "dominae," "clarissimi," and "illustres." He spoke inperfectly good Latin, with only the slightest foreign accent; andCornelia, who--unregenerate pagan that she was--was taking thoroughdelight in the dilemma of persons whom she knew had made her the buttof their scandalous gibes, could only admire the skilful manner inwhich he brought home to the several captives the necessity of findinga very large sum of money at their bankers' in a very short time, orenduring an indefinite captivity. After more or less of surly threatsand resis
tance on the part of the men, and screaming on the part ofthe women, the prisoners one and all capitulated, and put their namesto the papyri they were commanded to sign; and away went a boatdancing over the waves to Puteoli to cash the money orders, afterwhich the captives would be set ashore at Baiae.
Last of the wretches brought before Demetrius came Phaon. The freedmanhad been roughly handled; across his brow a great welt had risen wherea pirate had struck him with a rope's end. His arms were pinionedbehind his back. He was perfectly pale, and his eyes wandered from oneperson to another as if vainly seeking some intercessor.
"_Euge! Kyrios_[170]" cried the pirate chief, "you indeed seem toenjoy our hospitality but ill."
[170] Your Highness.
Phaon fell on his knees.
"I am a poor man," he began to whimper. "I have no means of paying aransom. My patron is not here to protect or rescue me. I have nothingto plunder. _Mu! mu!_ set me free, most noble pirate! Oh! mostexcellent prince, what have I done, that you should bear a grudgeagainst me?"
"Get up, fellow," snapped Demetrius; "I'm not one of thosecrocodile-headed Egyptian gods that they grovel before in the Nilecountry. My cousin Agias here says he knows you. Now answer--are you aGreek?"
"I am an Athenian born."
"Don't you think I can smell your Doric accent by that broad alpha?You are a Sicilian, I'll be bound!"
Phaon made a motion of sorrowful assent.
"_Phui!_" continued Demetrius, "tell me, Agias, is this the creaturethat tried to murder Quintus Drusus?"
Agias nodded.
"A fit minister for such a man as I imagine the son of Lucius Domitiusto be. Eurybiades, take off that fellow's bands; he is not worth onestroke of the sword."
"The captain will not spare the knave!" remonstrated the sanguinarylieutenant.
"What I have said, I have said," retorted the other; then, whenPhaon's arms hung free, "See, on the strength of our fellowship in ourboth being Greeks, I have set you at large!"
Phaon again sank to his knees to proffer thanks.
"Hold!" cried Demetrius, with a menacing gesture. "Don't waste yourgratitude. Greek you pretend to be, more the shame! Such as you it isthat have brought Hellas under the heel of the oppressor; such as youhave made the word of a Hellene almost valueless in the Roman courts,so that juries have to be warned to consider us all liars; such as youhave dragged down into the pit many an honest man; ay, myself too!"
Phaon left off his thanks and began again to supplicate.
"Stop whining, hound!" roared Demetrius; "haven't I said you are free?Free, but on one condition!"
"Anything, anything, my lord," professed the freedman, "money,service--"
"On this condition," and a broad, wicked smile over-spread the face ofthe pirate, "that you quit this ship instantly!"
"Gladly, gladly, merciful sir!" commenced Phaon again; "where is theboat?"
"Wretch!" shouted the other, "what did I say about a boat?Depart--depart into the sea! Swim ashore, if the load on your legs benot too heavy. Seize him and see that he sinks,"--this last toEurybiades and the seamen.
Phaon's terror choked his utterance; he turned livid with mortalfright. He pleaded for life; life on the terms most degrading, mostpainful, most joyless--life, life and that only. He cried out toCornelia to save him, he confessed his villanies, and vowed repentancea score of times all in one breath. But Cornelia lived in an age whenthe wisest and best--whatever the philosophers might theorize--thoughtit no shame to reward evil for evil, not less than good for good. WhenDemetrius asked her, "Shall I spare this man, lady?" she replied: "Ashe has made my life bitter for many days, why should I spare him abrief moment's pain? Death ends all woe!"
There was a dull splash over the side, a circle spreading out in thewater, wider and wider, until it could be seen no more among thewaves.
"There were heavy stones to his feet, Captain," reported Eurybiades,"and the cords will hold."
"It is well," answered Demetrius, very grave....
Later in the day the boat returned from Puteoli, and with it sundrysmall round-bellied bags, which the pirate prince duly stowed away inhis strong chest. The ransomed captives were put on board a smallunarmed yacht that had come out to receive them. Demetrius himselfhanded the ladies over the side, and salaamed to them as the craftshot off from the flagship. Then the pirates again weighed anchor, thegreat purple[171] square sail of each of the ships was cast to thepiping breeze, the triple tiers of silver-plated oars[171] began torise and fall in unison to the soft notes of the piper. The land grewfainter and more faint, and the three ships sprang away, speeding overthe broad breast of the sea.
[171] These were real affectations of the Cilician pirates.
That night Cornelia and Fabia held each other in their arms for a longtime. They were leaving Rome, leaving Italy, their closest friend athand was only the quondam slave-boy Agias, yet Cornelia, at least, washappy--almost as happy as the girl Artemisia; and when she lay down tosleep, it was to enjoy the first sound slumber, unhaunted by dread oftrouble, for nigh unto half a year.
A Friend of Cæsar: A Tale of the Fall of the Roman Republic. Time, 50-47 B.C. Page 20
