CHAPTER IX.
THE MULVIAN BRIDGE.
Under which king, Bezonian? Speak, or die! TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.
On that same night, and nearly at the same hour wherein the messenger ofAulus Fulvius arrived at the Latin villa, there was a splendid banquetgiven in a house near the forum.
It was the house of Decius Brutus, unworthy bearer of a time-honored name,the husband of the infamous Sempronia.
At an earlier hour of the evening, a great crowd had been gathered roundthe doors, eager to gaze on the ambassadors of the Highland Gauls, who,their mission to Rome ended unsuccessfully, feasted there for the lasttime previous to their departure.
As it grew dark, however, tired of waiting in the hope of seeing theplaided warriors depart, the throng had dispersed, and with exception ofthe city watches and the cohorts, which from hour to hour perambulatedthem, the streets were unusually silent, and almost deserted.
There was no glare of lights from the windows of Brutus’ house, as therewould be in these days, and in modern mansions, to indicate the scene offestivity; for it was in the inmost chamber, of the most secluded suite ofapartments, that the boards had been spread for the _comissatio_, ornocturnal revel.
The _cæna_, or dinner, had been partaken by all the guests previous totheir arrival at their entertainer’s, and the tables were laid only withlight dainties and provocatives to thirst, such as salted meats andfishes, the roe of the sturgeon highly seasoned, with herbs and fruits,and pastry and confections, of all kinds.
Rich urns, with heaters, containing hot spiced wines, prepared with honey,smoked on the boards of costly citrean wood, intermixed with crystal vasesfilled with the rarest vintages of the Falernian hills, cooled and dilutedwith snow-water.
And around the circular tables, on the tapestried couches, reclined thebanqueters of both sexes, quaffing the rich wines to strange toasts,jesting, and laughing wildly, singing at times themselves as the myrtlebranch and the lute went round, at times listening to the licentiouschaunts of the unveiled and almost unrobed dancing girls, or the obsceneand scurrilous buffoonery of the mimes and clowns, who played soconspicuous a part in the Roman entertainments of a later period.
Among these banqueters there was not a single person not privy to theconspiracy, and few who have not been introduced already to theacquaintance of the reader, but among these few was Sempronia—Sempronia,who could be all things, at all times, and to all persons—who with all thesoftness and grace and beauty of the most feminine of her sex, possessedall the daring, energy, vigor, wisdom of the bravest and most intriguingman—accomplished to the utmost in all the liberal arts, a poetess andminstrel unrivalled by professional performers, a dancer more finished andvoluptuous than beseemed a Roman matron, a scholar in both tongues, theGreek as well as her own, and priding herself on her ability to charm thegravest and most learned sages by the modesty of her bearing and thewealth of her intellect, as easily as the most profligate debauchees byher facetious levity, her loose wit, and her abandonment of all restraintto the wildest license.
On this evening she had strained every nerve to fascinate, to dazzle, toastonish.
She had danced as a bacchanal, with her luxuriant hair dishevelled beneatha crown of vine leaves, with her bright shoulders and superb bustdisplayed at every motion by the displacement of the panther’s skin, whichalone covered them, timing her graceful steps to the clang of the silvercymbals which she waved and clashed with her bare arms above her statelyhead, and showing off the beauties of her form in attitudes moreclassically graceful, more studiously indelicate, than the most recklessfigurante of our days.
She had sung every species of melody and rythm, from the wildestdithyrambic to the severest and most grave alcaic; she had struck thelute, calling forth notes such as might have performed the miraclesattributed to Orpheus and Amphion.
She had exerted her unrivalled learning so far as to discourse eloquentlyin the uncouth and almost unknown tongues of Germany and Gaul.
For she had Gaulish hearers, Gaulish admirers, whom, whether from merefemale vanity, whether from the awakening of some strange unbridledpassion, or whether from some deeper cause, she was bent on delighting.
For mixed in brilliant contrast with the violet and flower enwoven tunics,with the myrtle-crowned perfumed love-locks of the Roman feasters, wereseen the gay and many-chequered plaids, the jewelled weapons, and looselion-like tresses of the Gallic Highlanders, and the wild blue eyes, sharpand clear as the untamed falcon’s, gazing in wonder or glancing inchildlike simplicity at the strange scenes and gorgeous luxuries whichamazed all their senses.
The tall and powerful young chief, who had on several occasions attractedthe notice of Arvina, and whom he had tracked but a few days before intothis very house, reclined on the same couch with its accomplishedmistress, and it was on him that her sweetest smiles, her most speakingglances were levelled, for him that her charms were displayed sounreservedly and boldly.
And the eyes of the young Gaul flashed at times a strange fire, but it wasdifficult to tell, if it were indignation or desire that kindled thatsharp flame—and his cheek burned with a hectic and unwonted hue, butwhether it was the hue of shame or passion, what eye could determine.
One thing alone was evident, that he encouraged her in her wild licence,and affected, if he did not feel, the most decided admiration for herbeauty.
His hand had toyed with hers, his fingers had strayed through the mazes ofher superb raven ringlets, his lip had pressed hers unrebuked, and his earhad drunk in long murmuring low-breathed sighs, and whispers unheard byany other.
Her Roman lovers, in other words two-thirds of those present, for she wasno chary dame, looked at each other, some with a sneering smile, some witha shrewd and knowing glance, and some with ill-dissembled jealousy, butnot one of them all, so admirable was her dissimulation—if that may becalled admirable, which is most odious—could satisfy himself, whether shewas indeed captivated by the robust and manly beauty of the youngbarbarian, or whether it was merely a piece of consummate acting, the moreto attach him to their cause.
It might have been observed had the quick eye of Catiline been there,prompt to read human hearts as if they were written books—that the olderenvoys looked with suspicious and uneasy glances, at the demeanor of theiryoung associate, that they consulted one another from time to time withgrave and searching eyes, and that once or twice, when Sempronia, whoalone of those present understood their language, was at a distance, theyuttered a few words in Gaelic, not in the most agreeable or happiestaccent.
Wilder and wilder waxed the revelry, and now the slaves withdrew, andbreaking off into pairs or groups, the guests dispersed themselves amongthe peristyles, dimly illuminated with many twinkling lamps, andshrubberies of myrtle and laurestinus which adorned the courts and gardensof the proud mansions.
Some to plot deeds of private revenge, private cruelty—some to arrangetheir schemes of public insurrection—some to dally in secret corners withthe fair patricians—some to drain mightier draughts than they had yetpartaken, some to gamble for desperate stakes, all to drown care and theanguish of conscious guilt, in the fierce pleasure of excitement.
Apart from the rest, stood two of the elder Gauls, in deep and eagerconference—one the white-headed chief, and leader of the embassy, theother a stately and noble-looking man of some forty-five or fifty years.
They were watching their comrade, who had just stolen away, with one armtwined about the fair Sempronia’s waist, and her hand clasped in his,through the inner peristyle, into the women’s chambers.
"Feargus, I doubt him," said the old man in a low guarded whisper. "Idoubt him very sorely. These Roman harlots are made to bewitch any man,much more us Gael, whose souls kindle at a spark!"
"It is true, Phadraig," answered the other, still speaking in their owntongue. "Saw ever any man such infamy?—And these—these dogs, and goats,call us barbarians! Us, by the Spirit of Thunder! who would die fiftydeaths every hour
, ere we would see our matrons, nay! but our matrons’basest slaves, demean themselves as these patricians! Base, carnal,bloody-minded beasts are they—and yet forsooth they boast themselves themasters of the world."
"Alas! that it should be so, Feargus," answered the other. "But so it is,that they _are_ masters, and shall be masters yet awhile, but not long. Ihave heard, I have seen among the mist of our water-falls, the avalanchesof our hills, the voices and the signs of Rome’s coming ruin, but not yet.Therefore it is that I counselled peace."
"I know that thou art Taishatr, the great seer of our people," replied theother with an expression of deep awe on his features—"Shall Rome indeed soperish!"
"She shall, Feargus. Her sons shall forget the use of the blade, herdaughters of the distaff—for heroes and warriors she shall bring forthpipers and fiddlers, pandars and posturers; for heroines and matrons,songstresses, dancing girls, and harlots. The beginning thou seest now,the end cometh not in ages."
"And our people, Phadraig, our northern races"—
"Shall govern and despise them! our arms shall carry devastation intoregions of which their Consuls never heard, and under Gaelic eagles; our_men_ shall wield thunder louder and deadlier, than the bolts of RomanGODS. I have said, Feargus. It shall be, but not yet; nor shall our eyesbehold it; but it shall soothe us yet, in these days of our country’sdesolation, to know how great she shall be hereafter, and these how lessthan little—the very name of Roman synonimous with slavery anddegradation!"
There was a long pause, during which neither of the chieftains spoke, theone musing over the strange visions, which are phenomena by no meansunusual to mountaineers, in all ages; the other dreaming of future gloryto his race, and aroused by the predictions of the seer, to an ecstacy, asit were, of expectant triumph.
"Enough of this"—said the old man, at length. "As I said but now, I doubtEachin sorely."
"If he prove false, I will stab him to the heart, with my own hand, thoughhe be my father’s brother’s grandson, and the best warrior of our tribe;but no, no, Phadraig, the boy is young, and his blood is hot and fiery;and the charms of that witch might well move a colder spirit—but he istrue as steel, and wise and wary for one so young. He may sun himself inher smiles, or revel on her lips, but trust me, Eachin of the iron hand,will never betray council."
"Keep your eye on him, nevertheless, Feargus," said the other, "and, asyou said but now, kill him at once, if you perceive him false."
"Ha! what! noble Patricius?" cried Lentulus, coming up to them suddenly,and addressing the old chief by his latinized name—"what is this that thouarguest so sagely, in thy sonorous and male tongue."
"The might and majesty of Rome," answered the old man quietly, "and ourpeople’s misery and degradation."
"Nay! nay! chief, be not downhearted. Look upward now, after dark nightcomes brilliant morning," said the Roman. "Your people shall rise erelong, to power and glory and dominion."
"So I told Feargus."
"Ha! the brave Ferragus! and doth he not credit your wisdom’s prophecy."
"I put all faith in Rome’s gratitude, in Catiline’s valor and justice."
"Aye! when we once have put down this faction, we will do justice to ourfriends."
"And we are of the number!"
"Surely, the twenty thousand horse, which you have promised us, are twentythousand pledges of your friendship, as many claims on our favor."
"See, here comes Eachin," said the old man; "and time wears onward, it isnigh midnight. We must away to our lodgings. Our train awaits us, and webut tarry for your envoy and the letters."
"Titus Volturcius! I will go fetch him hither. He hath our letters sealedand ready. He is but draining a last cup, with our brave Cethegus. I willgo fetch him." And, with the words, he turned away, gathering his toga insuperb draperies about his stately person, and traversing the corridorwith proud and measured strides, and as he went, muttered through histeeth—"The fool barbarians! As if we would give them anything but chainsand scourges! The poor benighted idiots!"
"Ho, Eachin, where left you our fair hostess?" asked Feargus inLatin—"methinks you are smitten somewhat with her beauty!"
"She is very beautiful!" said the old chieftain gravely.
"Beautiful! Feargus! Phadraig! beautiful, did ye say?" and the youth gazedat them in wonder, "That vile sensual, soulless harlot! she beautiful!Then virtue must be base indeed, and honor shameful!" he cried, with nobleindignation, in his own Gaëlic tongue, his eyes flashing, and his cheekburning crimson.
"Why, if you held her then so cheaply, have you so much affected hersociety?"
"Oh! you suspect me, Feargus. But it needs not. The barbarian hath someshrewdness, and some honesty. Sempronia too, suspected us, and would havewon my secret from me, had I indeed a secret, by sweet words and sweeterkisses."
"And thou"—
"Gave kiss for kiss, with interest; and soft word for soft word. I havesighed as if I were any Roman—but no secret, Feargus; Phadraig, no secret.Do you doubt me?"
"Not I, boy," answered the warrior. "Your father was my cousin, and Ithink you are not a bastard."
"I think not either. But see, here come these _noble_ Romans!"
"It is their envoy with the letters for their leader. We shall bedismissed now, from this haunt of thieves and harlots!"
"And laughed at, when dismissed, for fools and barbarians!"
"One never knows who is the fool, till the game is lost."
"Nor who is laughed at ’till it is won!"
"Here is our Titus, my good friends," said Lentulus, coming forward,leading along with him a slightly-made but well-formed and active-lookingman, with a downcast yet roving eye, and a sneering lip, as if he were onewho believing nothing, deserved not to be believed in anything himself."He hath the letters, and credentials secured on his person. On hisintroduction, our Catiline shall know you as true friends, and as suchreceive and reward you!"
"Titus Volturcius, is welcome. We tarried but for him, we will now takeour leaves, with thanks for your gracious courtesies."
"A trifle, a mere trifle," said Sempronia, who had that momentreturned—"We only desired to teach you how we Romans live in our homesdaily."
"A very pleasant lesson, ha! my young friend"—said Lentulus to Eachin; andthen he said out to Cethegus, in Greek, "I am compelled to call theHighland bull my friend, for his accursed name would break the jaws of anyRoman—there is no twisting it into Latin!"
"Hush! he will hear you, Lentulus," said the other. "I believe the bruteshear with their eyes, and understand through their finger-ends," and hetoo used the same language; yet, strange to say, it would have seemed asif the young man did in some sort comprehend his words, for his cheekturned fiery red, and he bit his lip, and played nervously with the hiltof the claymore.
"Thou will not forget the lesson!" whispered Sempronia.
"Never!" replied the Highlander. "Never while one red drop runs in theseveins. And the last drop in them will I shed gladly, to teach these nobleRomans how grateful a barbarian can be, poor though he be and half savage,for being thus instructed in Roman hospitality and Roman virtue! Farewell,ye noble Senators, farewell most beautiful and noble matron!"
And with deep salutations, half dignified, half awkward, the Gauls strodeaway, into the quiet and moon-lighted streets, strange contrast to theglare and riot of those patrician halls and polluted chambers.
"A singular speech that!" said Cethegus musing. "It sounded much as if itmight bear a double meaning! could it be irony and cover treason?"
"Irony in a stupid Gaul! thou art mad, Cethegus, to think of it!" saidAutronius with a sneer.
"I should as soon look for wit in an elephant," said Longinus Cassius.
"Or I for love in a cold lizard!" cried Sempronia, laughing.
"You found some love in the barbarian, I think, my Sempronia?" exclaimedCethegus.
"More warmth than wit, I assure you," she replied still laughing. "I actedmy part with him rarely. If he were inclin
ed once to play us false, he isbound to us now by chains"—
"Of roses, fair one?"
"Never mind. If he break them, call me"—
"Chaste? Sempronia"—enquired Cæparius, interrupting her.
"Audacious!" she answered with an affected frown, amid the laugh whichfollowed the retort.
"What do you think of it, my Lentulus?" asked Cethegus, who although hehad jested with the others, did not by any means appear satisfied in hismind, or convinced of the good faith of the Highlanders.
"That it is two hours now past midnight," answered Lentulus yawning, "andthat I am amazing sleepy. I was not in bed till the third watch lastnight, writing those letters, ill luck to them. That is what I think,Cethegus. And that I am going to bed now, to trouble myself about thematter no more, until the Saturnalia."
And so that company broke up, never to meet again, on this side Hades.
Not long thereafter the Gauls, having reached their lodgings at the houseof their patron Fabius Sanga, where everything had been prepared alreadyfor their departure, mounted their horses, and set forth on their wayhomeward, accompanied by a long train of armed followers; Titus Volturciusriding in the first rank, between the principal chiefs of the party.
The moon had risen; and the night was almost as clear as day, for a slighttouch of frost had banished all the vapors from the sky, and the starssparkled with unusual brilliancy.
Although it was clear and keen, however, the night was by no means cold,as it would have been under the like circumstances in our more northernclimes; and the gardens in the suburbs of the city with their numerousclumps of stone-pine, and thickets of arbutus and laurestinus, looked richand gay with their polished green foliage, long after the deciduous treeshad dropped their sere leaves on the steamy earth.
No sounds came to the ears of the travellers, as they rode at that deadhour of night through the deserted streets; the whole of the vast cityappeared to be hushed in deep slumber, soon, Caius Volturcius boasted asthey rode along, to burst like a volcano into the din and glare of mightyconflagration.
They met not a single individual, as they threaded the broad suburra withtheir long train of slaves and led-horses; not one as they passed throughthe gorge between the Viminal and Quirinal hills, nor as they scaled thesummit of the latter eminence, and reached the city walls, where theyoverlooked Sallust’s gardens in the valley, and on the opposite slope, theperfumed hill of flowers.
A sleepy sentinel unbarred the gate for the ambassadors, while four orfive of his comrades sat dozing in their armor around a stove, in thecentre of the little guard-house, or replenishing their horn cups, atshort intervals, from an urn of hot wine, which hissed and simmered on thehearth.
"Excellent guard they keep!" said Volturcius sneeringly, "right trustydiscipline! of much avail would such watchers be, were Catiline withoutthe walls, with ten thousand men, of Sylla’s veterans."
"And is your Catiline so great a captain?" asked the Highlander.
"The best in Rome, since Sylla is no more! He learned the art of war underthat grand, that consummate soldier! He was scarce second to him in hislife time!"
"Why, then, hath Rome found no service for him?" asked the Gaul. "If he,as you say, is so valiant and so skillful, why hath he not commanded inthe east, in place of Pompey, or Lucullus?"
"Jealousy is the bane of Rome! jealousy and corruption! Catiline will notpander to the pride of the insolent patricians, nor buy of thememployments or honors with his gold."
"And is _he_ free from this corruption?"
"No man on earth of more tried integrity! While all of Rome beside isvenal, his hand alone is conscious of no bribe, his heart aloneincorruptible!"
"Thou must be a true friend of his; all men speak not so highly of thisCatiline."
"Some men lie! touching _him_ specially, they lie!"
"By the Gods! I believe so!" answered the old Gaul, with calm irony.
"By Mars! and Apollo! they lie foully!"
"I think I have heard one, at least, do so."
"Thou shalt hear hundreds, if thou listen to them."
"So many?"
"Aye! by the Gods!—most of the—by your head! Patricius, that was a man, Ithink; armed too; who looked forth from behind yon buttress of thebridge."
"No! no! Volturcius, ’twas but the shadow of yon pine tree, waving athwartthe moonlight. I marked it long since," answered the wily Gaul. "Proceed,I pray you—most of the what, wert thou about to say?"
But, by this time, the speakers had advanced to the centre of the longMulvian bridge, a magnificent stone structure crossing the broad andsluggish Tiber, two miles below the city; and giving access to thefar-famed Flaminian way.
Their train, following closely after them, had all entered into thedefile, the last of them having already passed the abutment nearest toRome, when a loud shout arose from either side the bridge; and from thethickets and gardens at each extremity forth rushed a band of stout youthsarmed with casques and cuirasses of bronze, with the oblong shields andSpanish stabbing swords of the legionaries.
Each band was led by a Prætor, Lucius Valerius Flaccus commanding at theend next Rome, and Caius Pomptinus, on the Emilian way, and each fell intoaccurate and beautiful array, barring the outlets of the bridge with atriple file of bright blades and sturdy bucklers.
Nor was this all; for a little party was pushed forward on each flank,with bows and javelins, ready to enfilade the narrow pass with cross shotof their missiles, in case any attempt should be made to force a passage.And at the end, moreover, of the bridge toward Etruria and the camp ofCatiline, at which such an attempt was most likely to occur, theglittering helmets and crimson horsehair crests of a troop of cavalry wereseen glancing in the moonbeams, as they wheeled into line behind thefootmen, ready to charge at once should the infantry be broken.
"Stand! stand!" cried the soldiery at each end. "Stand and surrender!"
But the younger men of the Gauls, unsheathing their claymores, set uptheir terrible slogan, or Celtic battle cry; and, plunging their spursinto the sides of their fiery horses came thundering across the bridgewith a charge that would probably have trodden the Prætor’s infantry underfoot, had not the old chief, whom the Romans called Patricius, andFerragus reined their steeds suddenly across the way, calling upon theirmen to halt and be steady.
But Volturcius, knowing too well the consequence of being taken, dashedforward with his sword drawn; and made a desperate attempt to cut his waythrough the infantry, striking down two or three, slashing and stabbing tothe right and left, displaying singular skill in the use of his weapon,and extreme personal intrepidity.
"Treason! treason, my friends!" he shouted. "Ho, Ferragus, Patricius, ho!Charge, charge, men, gallantly. They are but a handful!" and still heplied his blade, which was now crimson to the hilt, with fearful energy.
"No! no! not so!" cried the ambassadors—"lay down your arms! it is theprætor’s train. Lay down your arms! all shall be well, if you resist not."
And at the same time, "Yield thee! yield thee! Volturcius," criedPomptinus. "We are friends all; and would not hurt thee—but have thee wemust, and thy letters.—Dost thou not know me, Titus?"
"Very well, Caius," cried the other, still fighting desperately against ahost; for the men were commanded not to kill, but to take him alive at allhazards. "I know thee very well; but I will not yield to thee! So takethat, Prætor!" and, with the word, he dealt him a blow on his crest thatbrought him to his knee in a moment.
"He is a mad man!" cried a veteran legionary. "We must kill him!"
"Not for your lives," shouted Pomptinus, and springing to his feet heplunged his sword home into his horse’s chest, up to the very hilt; andthen leaping on one side nimbly, as the animal fell headlong, being slainoutright, he seized Volturcius by the shoulder, and pulled him down fromthe saddle.
But even at this disadvantage, the conspirator renewed the single combatwith the prætor; until at length, assured by his repeated promises thathis life should be spa
red, he yielded his sword to that officer, andadjuring him in the name of all the Gods! to protect him, gave himself upa prisoner, as if to avowed enemies.
Those of the Gauls, who had been ignorant, at first, what was in progress,perceiving now that the whole matter had been arranged with theconcurrence of their chiefs, submitted quietly; and two or three of theprætor’s people who had been wounded being accommodated with temporarylitters made of bucklers and javelins with watch cloaks thrown over them,the whole party turned their horses’ heads, and directed their marchtoward Rome.
And silence, amid which the gentle murmur of the river, and the sigh ofthe breeze were distinctly audible, succeeded to the clang of arms, andthe shouts of the combatants, unheard for many a year, so near to thewalls of the world’s metropolis.
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