Читать книгу Quintus Claudius, Vol. II - Eckstein Ernst - Страница 5

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DOMITIAN had not been present at the meeting of the Senate. He had gone to sleep late, and, not waking till long after sunrise, he remained in bed to receive his chamberlain, Parthenius, who came to announce to him that the plan of campaign against the proscribed sect was fully laid and ratified. This news entirely restored Caesar's lost composure, and he came to breakfast in the best humor possible.

His spirits rose still higher, when Parthenius reported the results of his overtures to Barbillus. The priest of Isis had expressed himself ready to meet the Emperor's wishes for a consideration of ninety thousand denarii. His co-operation was not to be had cheaper, since Barbillus had a tender conscience, and could not risk the wrath of Isis, the all-powerful, for less.

Domitian rubbed his hands, and a hideous, leering smile stole over his sallow face. His eyes sparkled scornfully under his lowering brow.

"By Cypris! a sly fox is this Barbillus! And will he pledge his word that the shy nymph?"

"Do not be uneasy, my lord. Barbillus has planned such a piece of bewildering magic to play, that she will lose her head. You are to appear before her, mysteriously illuminated and with lightning flashing round you, in the form of the hawk-headed god, Osiris.34—All sorts of mystical effects are to be introduced.—Rely upon it, my lord, she is yours, if ever a mortal woman was conquered by an immortal god."

"You have done well!" cried Caesar, enchanted. "How our noble Cinna would writhe, if he could know... These conjurors are inexhaustible with their ingenious tricks. The strange thing is, that so much truth creeps in among so many lies. Who was it, that told you that Barbillus is a master of astrology?"

"Sextus Furius, to whom he foretold his brothers* death."

"I remember... and the prophecy was verified?"

"To the very hour. The two men were in Gaul at the time, and no one here knew that they were ill. The elder died on the ides of February, and the younger two days later."

Caesar's face clouded, and he cast a sinister glance at Parthenius. Could it, indeed, be that the chamberlain did not know he was speaking treason?—could he so utterly have forgotten, what had happened to the soothsayer Ascletario? Domitian had expected a denial from the courtier, not a confirmation of the facts. Truly, even Parthenius, it would seem, had ceased to care for his sovereign's favor! Even he was growing audacious and reckless.

Domitian involuntarily felt for the little wooden tablet which lay under his pillow; but Parthenius met his eye with a look of such perfect innocence, that Domitian felt a qualm of remorse. He held out his hand to the chamberlain and said, with an effort to be amiable:

"Thank you, my friend; your information will be useful. I have not yet decided whether I will appear at table, or indeed leave my rooms at all. But, in any case, do you be here in good time for the precious divine comedy in the evening."

"As my sovereign commands."

"Listen—stop!" cried Caesar, as Parthenius was going. "To-day, you know, Julia, my late brother's daughter, is to be buried..."35

"I know, my lord!"

"Well... I forgot to say... her ashes are to be carried to the temple of the Flavia family;36 the dignity of our race requires it. I beg of you to omit nothing, that is due to the Manes of the illustrious dead—such as Julia. I would have the people know and tell each other, how Domitian honors the daughter of the divine Titus."

"I understand."

And Parthenius went.

"I will watch him," said Domitian to himself. "If he too... No torture would be too severe for such a breach of faith Folly! His fate is so inseparably bound up with mine, that my fall must bring him down too."

He slowly raised himself from the pillow, leaning on his right hand, and a slight shudder ran through him; he was cold. "The consequence of yesterday's excitement," he said to himself, drawing the coverlet closer round him. By Castor, but it is becoming absurd. Always the same fabric of the brain—that foolish, hideous figure, with its ghastly face and gaping wound!" And he pressed his hand over his eyes.

"It is ridiculous. Must everything on earth repeat itself? Nero, gory shade, I laugh you to scorn! Have I waded in blood? Have I set the immortal city in flames, and struck my lyre while the people howled in anguish? Have I murdered my own mother? Nay— I am a mild and merciful sovereign. Compared with Nero—a child, a lamb, a dove! Away! Why stand grinning at me there, horrid vision? You have long been dust and ashes.—Vanish, go, or I will strangle you!"

He groaned and sank back on his cushions. His eyes were closed, but his hands were stretched out, stark, as if convulsed; his breath came hard and quickly, and his livid lips never ceased moving.

"It is he, it is he..." he stammered, sitting up again. "I see him, barefoot, his mantle torn, riding towards Phaon's house.37—I hear the shouts of the soldiers in the camp close by.—They are cursing him.—His horse has shied—he is looking round— the Praetorians know his pale face.—Now he has leaped from his saddle, and is hiding in the bushes.— How he gasps! How thirsty he is—he is stooping over a puddle to drink!—They have reached the villa; there—he is trembhng, his knees give way.—Here is a messenger from Rome bringing Phaon the news—the decision of the Senate. Traitors! Treason! Death by the hand of the executioner.—Hark! Horses!— the soldiers are coming out to take him.—Come, more merciful steel, and pierce this throbbing heart. Kill him, murder him, tear him limb from limb!—It is over, there he lies, stiff on his cloak, his eyes starting out of their sockets. His face is as pale as ashes.— Thus dies Nero!—Alas! and woe is me! Thus dies Domitian!"

A loud and piercing shriek; then the silence of the grave.

"Help, help!" cried the boy, who was on guard in the cubiculum. "Help—quick!"

It was Phaeton, Caesar's favorite slave; he rushed forward to lift up the Emperor, who lay like one dead. His left arm hung helplessly over the edge of the bed; he had pushed aside his pillows, and with them, his wooden tablet which, as Phaeton pulled the cushions into place, fell with a clatter on to the floor. The lad stooped and picked it up, only just in time to save it from being trodden on by the other slaves, who came rushing in from all sides. He instinctively hid the piece of wood in his tunic. A moment later and the physician came in, who at once dismissed all unnecessary attendants, among them Phaeton, who was still trembling from the shock. Caesar, he said, must have absolute rest.

Phaeton, however, lingered; he wanted to know whether Caesar's life was in danger, and it was not till the leech had reassured him on that point, that he was persuaded to quit the room and remain in the cavaedium close at hand. There he went to the south-western entrance, where two of the Praetorian Guard were keeping watch in shining armor. He sat down, squatting on the mosaic pavement,, near a door which commanded a view over the Aventine. For a time he stared vacantly at the tall, stiff figures with their dazzling helmets and their calm, stem, weather-beaten faces. Then, with a yawn, he idly drew forth the wooden tablet. He could not read, and his eye wandered curiously down the close rows of curling or angular letters, which to him were signs far more mystical than the old Hebrew rolls of manuscripts, which he had seen his mother read. Then he fell to balancing the little board on his fingers, trying to support it on one comer, as he had seen Masthlion, the famous juggler do, out on the Field of Mars.

At this moment the heavy tread of Clodianus was heard approaching.38 He had been requested by the chamberlain to visit the room where Julia was lying dead. The boy, with a dim sense of wrong-doing in thus playing tricks with the property of his imperial master, hastily hid the tablet in his tunic again. But the very promptness with which he did so attracted the adjutant's attention.

"What are you hiding there?" he asked, beckoning the lad to him.

"Nothing, my lord—a little board..." stammered Phaeton. "Our lord and god is ill—he fainted; the bit of wood fell on the ground "

"Show it to me." The boy obeyed, trembling, for the adjutant's voice had a growl in it of distant thunder. At the court of the Roman Emperor any one might, at any moment, happen to offend the majesty of Caesar beyond all forgiveness. The quaking youngster fully expected that the next words he should hear would be: "Go, and be soundly flogged!" or even worse. What then was his surprise when Clodianus, who on first glancing at the tablet had frowned darkly, suddenly lost his expression of angry defiance, and looked anxiously round at the sentinels.

"Have they seen this?" he asked, drawing the lad aside.

"No, my lord."

"Where did you find this tablet?"

"It was lying under the great sovereign's pillow."

"And you stole it?"

"Nay, my lord. It fell out, when Caesar lost consciousness."

"Caesar is sick, then?"

"I said so before. He screamed as if an asp had stung him; then he fainted. The leech says there is no danger "

"Let us hope so, let us hope so.—Did any one see you pick up this little tablet?"

"No, my lord."

"Listen, then, to what I tell you. Replace it as soon as possible, and secretly.—Mark me well, very secretly—exactly where it was. If any one finds out that you brought it out here, you are a dead man—I mean well by you, Phaeton."

"Oh! my lord, if I could have dreamed that I was committing a crime..."

"Be silent, and do as I bid you. By our conquering eagle! I am not one of those, who make an outcry about every little stupid thing. An old soldier is not prone to tale-telling—only do not betray yourself."

"How have I deserved so much kindness?" said the poor boy, kissing the wily courtier's hand. "Perhaps I could slip into the room again now..."

"You can but try, my boy; and for the future take care what you do. Things that Caesar thinks fit to hide under his pillow, are not meant for the eyes of others, you may be sure. Do not forget that."

The lad went; Clodianus looked after him, nodding his head as he said to himself: "A most fortunate chance! You write a plain hand, Caesar! I have seen this coming for some time. You insist on having none but foes, great potentate! No confederates! Well—I can but try to play the part."

Meanwhile Domitian had recovered from his swoon. An overwrought mind, the physician said, and anxiety for the weal of his beloved Romans had reduced the Father of his country to this condition; escape from all business, amusement, and enjoyment of every kind, were the only means of avoiding a recurrence of the attack. Domitian accepted this diagnosis with favor. The external application of Vesuvian wine, and a few mouthfuls of the strongest Samian, which he swallowed eagerly, had entirely restored his vigor; he did not even feel so languid as usual. He spent another hour in bed, by the leech's advice, and then he allowed himself to be dressed, and ordered his litter. Just as he was quitting the room he remembered the tablet; he hastened back and raised the pillow. There it lay—the register of death. He put it in his bosom.

"What are you doing here?" he said, turning sharply on Phaeton, who was standing by, pale and frightened.

"Whatever my lord and god may command."

"Then order Narcissus to wait in the cubiculum,39 and do you come with me."

Phaeton breathed once more. He obeyed with the swiftness of the wind.

The Emperor passed the hours till supper-time in one of the vast pleasaunces on the top of Mons Janiculus, and to Phaeton was vouchsafed the coveted honor of entertaining the ruler of the world, while the rest of the suite stood aside in reverent silence. Domitian was remarkably gracious to-day. He condescended to pinch the boy's rosy cheeks, and invited him to share the breakfast, which was served in a garden-house with every conceivable luxury. Then Phaeton must sing to him, and tell him once more about his mother, the beautiful, heart-broken Judith, who had been brought to Rome as a young girl from her home in Palestine, and had never ceased weeping till her large, flashing eyes were dim and blind. The boy knew how to talk, sometimes gaily, sometimes sadly—of the holy citadel of Jerusalem40 which, to him, included all that was sacred on earth—of the horrors of the siege—the Temple of Solomon—the hoary cedars of Lebanon. Then he would relate some reminiscence of his own experience—of the first time he threw the discus on the Field of Mars, and attracted the notice of Parthenius—of the pride and awe with which he had, for the first time, entered the imperial apartments—his delight at Caesar's approbation, when he returned from an excursion to Albanum.

As he listened to this simple childlike prattle, Domitian was moved to a guileless feeling of affection, which he had long forgotten.

"Tell me, Phaeton," he said, stroking the boy*s long curls, "if base villains were to attempt your master's life, or try to hurt him, you would stand by him?"

"So far as I was able, my lord," said the boy heartily. "But who would dare to commit so monstrous a crime?"

"No one. Phaeton, by the gods! I only asked you to try your love for me."

When he was weary of Phaeton's chatter, Caesar had his bearers to carry him about in the gardens for a while, and at last back to the palace—almost exactly at the hour when the assembled Fathers were coming down from the Capitoline, after passing the decree against the Christians. He remained in his room till he went to table, and at the meal he was lively, almost excited, though he eat but little, while, on the other hand, he drank full draughts of Falernian unmixed with water.

When the coena was over, he retired to his private business-room. There he rushed up and down the room in loud and vehement soliloquy, fighting the air like a gladiator and exclaiming wildly: "Come on— only come on, you villains! my good sword shall cleave your skulls." Then he took to catching flies, as he had been wont to do as a boy,41 impaling them on his writing-stylus.

"Through and through!" he exclaimed in a tone of triumph. "Have I got you now, traitors? Aye, writhe and wriggle—like mad things! you shall not escape me now, till Tartarus yawns to receive your souls."

By degrees his excitement calmed down; still, when the chamberlain made his appearance, he was so vigorous and eager, that Parthenius allowed himself to make a somewhat broad allusion to the evening's adventure.

"You are a precious witty fellow!" laughed the Emperor. "But I feel myself that you have, in jest, hit the truth. Up then to deeds of glory! I only hope that Isis, the celestial Egyptian, may be content with her new brother."