Unto Caesar Read online

  CHAPTER V

  "Cast thy bread upon the waters: for thou shalt find it aftermany days."--ECCLESIASTES XI. 1.

  The fair-skinned Cheiron up on the rostrum now took over the duties ofthe disgraced Hun Rhavas.

  The interlude had caused the crowd to linger on despite the approach ofnoonday, an hour always devoted, almost sacred, to rest. But now thatdecorum was once more restored and the work of the sale could beproceeded with in the methodical manner approved by the praefect,interest began to flag.

  The crowd seemed inclined to wait just a brief while longer in order tosee Nola put up on the catasta and to hear the bid of twenty aurei madefor her by her mother--a bid which, at the praefect's commands, was tobe final and undisputed. Just to see the hammer come clashing down as anepilogue to the palpitating drama was perhaps worth waiting for. Thehuman goods still left for sale after that would have to be held overfor a more favourable opportunity.

  The praefect was preparing to leave.

  Up on the platform Nola, the daughter of Menecreta, smiled at the worldthrough a few lingering tears. She was very happy now that her goldenhair was allowed to stream down her shoulders, and that it was onlybecause the praefect had so ordered it that the low price of twentyaurei would be accepted for her.

  "Nola, daughter of Menecreta," shouted Cheiron, the new auctioneer,"aged sixteen years, skilled in the art of healing, and the knowledge ofunguents and herbs. Her health is good, her teeth perfect, and her eyeskeen for threading the finest needle. Shall we say fifteen aurei for thegirl?"

  He recited his peroration quickly and perfunctorily, like one repeatinga lesson, learned from the praefect.

  "I'll give twenty," rang out Menecreta's voice, clearly and loudly. She,too, had learned her lesson, and learned it well, whilst gratitude andan infinity of joy gave her strength to overcome her natural timidity.

  "Twenty aurei! twenty aurei! will no one bid more for Nola, the daughterof Menecreta," shouted the auctioneer, hammer in hand, ready to bring itdown since no more bidding would be allowed for this piece of goods."Twenty aurei! no one bids more--no one--no----"

  "I'll give thirty aurei!"

  It was a pure, young voice that spoke, the voice of a young girl, mellowand soft-toned as those of a pigeon when it cooes to its mate; but firmwithal, direct and clear, the voice of one accustomed to command andeven more accustomed to be obeyed.

  The sound rang from temple to temple right across the Forum, and wasfollowed by silence--the dead silence which falls upon a multitude whenevery heart stops beating and every breath is indrawn.

  Cheiron paused, hammer in hand, his lips parted for the very words whichhe was about to utter, his round open eyes wandering irresolutely fromthe praefect's face to that of the speaker with the melodious voice.

  And on the hot noonday air there trembled a long sigh of pain, like thebreaking of a human heart.

  But the same voice, soft and low, was heard again:

  "The girl pleases me! What say you, my lord Escanes, is not that hairworthy to be immortalised by a painter's hand?"

  And preceded by her lictors, who made a way for her through the crowd,Dea Flavia advanced even to the foot of the catasta. And as sheadvanced, those who were near retreated to a respectful distance, makinga circle round her and leaving her isolated, with her tall Ethiopianslaves behind her holding broad leaves of palm above her head to shieldher from the sun. Thus was the gold of her hair left in shadow, and thewhite skin of her face appeared soft and cool, but the sun played withthe shimmering folds of her white silk tunic and glinted against thegems on her fingers.

  Tall, imperious and majestic, Dea Flavia--unconscious alike of thedeference of the crowd and the timorous astonishment of theslaves--looked up at Cheiron, the auctioneer, and resumed with a touchof impatience in her rich young voice:

  "I said that I would bid thirty aurei for this girl!"

  Less than a minute had elapsed since Dea Flavia's sudden appearance onthe scene. Taurus Antinor had as yet made no movement or given any signto Cheiron as to what he should do; but those who watched him withanxious interest could see the dark frown on his brow grow darker stilland darker, until his whole face seemed almost distorted with anexpression of passionate wrath.

  Menecreta, paralysed by this sudden and final shattering of her everyhope, uttered moan after moan of pain, and as the pitiful sounds reachedthe praefect's ears, a smothered oath escaped his tightly clenchedteeth. Like some gigantic beast roused from noonday sleep, hestraightened his massive frame and seemed suddenly to shake himselffree from that state of torpor into which Dea Flavia's unexpectedappearance had at first thrown him. He too, advanced to the foot of thecatasta and there faced the imperious beauty, whom the whole city had,for the past two years, tacitly agreed to obey in all things.

  "The State," he said, speaking at least as haughtily as Dea Flaviaherself, "hath agreed to accept the sum of twenty aurei for this slave.'Tis too late now to make further bids for her."

  But a pair of large blue eyes, cold as the waters of the Tiber and likeunto them mysterious and elusive, were turned fully on the speaker.

  "Too late didst thou say, oh Taurus Antinor?" said Dea Flavia raisingher pencilled eyebrows with a slight expression of scorn, "nay! I hadnot seen the hammer descend! The girl until then is not sold, and opento the highest bidder. Or am I wrong, O praefect, in thus interpretingthe laws of Rome?"

  "This is an exceptional case, Augusta," he retorted curtly.

  "Then wilt thou expound to me that law which deals with such exceptionalcases?" she rejoined with the same ill-concealed tone of gentle irony."I had never heard of it; so I pray thee enlighten mine ignorance. Of atruth thou must know the law, since thou didst swear before the altar ofthe gods to uphold it with all thy might."

  "'Tis not a case of law, Augusta, but one of pity."

  The praefect, feeling no doubt the weakness of any argument which aimedat coercing this daughter of the Caesars, prompted too by his innaterespect of the law which he administered, thought it best to retreatfrom his position of haughty arrogance and to make an appeal, sinceobviously he could not command. Dea Flavia was quick to note thischange of attitude, and her delicate lips parted in a contemptuoussmile.

  "Dost administer pity as well as law, O Taurus Antinor?" she askedcoldly.

  Then, as if further argument from him were of no interest to her, sheonce more turned to the auctioneer, and said with marked impatience:

  "I have bid thirty aurei for this girl; art set there slave, to gape atthe praefect, or to do thy duty to the State that employs thee? Is therea higher bid for the maid? She pleaseth me, and I'll give sixty or anhundred for her. This is a public auction as by law directed. I appealto thee, oh Taurus Antinor, to give orders to thy slaves, ere I appealto my kinsman, the Emperor, for the restoration of a due administrationof the law."

  Those who had cause to know and to fear the praefect's varying moods,were ready to shrink away now from the threatening darkness of hisglance. He seemed indeed like some tawny wild beast, chained andscorned, whom a child was teasing from a point of vantage just beyondthe reach of his powerful jaws.

  She was so well within her rights and he so absolutely in the wrong asfar as the law was concerned, that he knew at once that he mustinevitably give way. If Dea Flavia chose to desire a slave she couldsatisfy the caprice, since no man's fortune could hold out against herown. This too did the praefect know. He himself was passing rich andwould gladly have paid a large sum now, that he might prove the victorin this unequal contest but Dea Flavia had the law and boundless wealthon her side. Taurus Antinor had only his personal authority which hadcoerced the crowd, but was of no avail against this beautiful woman whodefied him openly before the plebs and before his slaves.

  "Have no fear, O Dea Flavia," he said, trying to speak calmly, but hisvoice trembling with the mighty effort at control, "justice hath neveryet suffered at my hands. I told thee that 'tis not a case of law herebut one of mercy. This girl's mother has toiled for years t
o save enoughmoney with which to buy the freedom of her child. She hath twenty aureito command, and the girl is not worth much more than that. The Statewould have been satisfied, for my own purse would have made up thedeficiency. I had bought the girl myself and given her to the mother,but the poor wretch was so proud and happy to buy her child's freedomherself, that I allowed her to make the bid. That is this slave-girl'sstory, Augusta! Thou seest that the law will not suffer, neither shallthe State be defrauded. What thou art prepared to give for the girl thatwill I make good in the coffers of the State. Art satisfied, I hope!Thou art a woman, and canst mayhap better understand than I did at firstwhen Menecreta threw herself at my knees."

  His rugged voice softened considerably whilst he spoke, and those whowere watching him so anxiously saw the ugly dark frown gradually lightenon his brow. No wonder! since he was just a man face to face with anexceptionally beautiful woman, to whose pity he was endeavouring to makeappeal. At all times an easy and a pleasant task, it must have beendoubly so now when the object of mercy was so deserving. Taurus Antinorlooked straight into the lovely face before him, marvelling when thoseexquisite blue eyes would soften with their first look of pity. But theyremained serene and mysterious, neither avoiding his gaze nor respondingto its appeal. The delicately chiselled lips retained their slight curveof scorn.

  He gave a sign to Menecreta, and she approached, tottering like one whois drunken with wine, or who has received a heavy blow on the head. Shestood before Dea Flavia, with head trembling like poplar leaves andgreat hollow eyes fixed in meaningless vacancy upon the great patricianlady.

  "This is Menecreta, O Dea Flavia," concluded the praefect; "wilt allowher to plead her own cause?"

  Without replying directly to him, Dea Flavia turned for the first timeto the slave-girl on the platform.

  "Is this thy mother?" she asked.

  "Yes!" murmured the girl.

  "Hast a wish that she should buy thy freedom?"

  "Yes."

  "That thou shouldst go with her to the hovel which is her home, the onlyhome that thou wouldst ever know? Hast a wish to become the slave ofthat old woman, whose mind hath already gone wandering among theshadows, and whose body will very shortly go in search of her mind? Hasta wish to spend the rest of thy days scrubbing floors and stewing onionsin an iron pot? Or is thy wish to dwell in the marble halls of DeaFlavia's house, where the air is filled with the perfume of roses andviolets and tame songbirds make their nests in the oleander bushes?Wouldst like to recline on soft downy cushions, allowing thy golden hairto fall over thy shoulders the while I, mallet or chisel in hand, wouldmake thy face immortal by carving it in marble? The praefect saith thineis a case for pity, then do I have pity upon thee, and give thee thechoice of what thy life shall be. Squalor and misery as thy mother'sslave, or joy, music, and flowers as mine."

  Her voice, ever low and musical, had taken on notes of tenderness and oflanguor. The tears of pity which the praefect had vainly tried toconjure up gathered now in her eyes as her whole mood seemed to melt inthe fire of her own eloquence.

  Nola hung her head, overwhelmed with shame. She was very young and thegreat lady very kind and gentle. Her own simple heart, still filled withthe selfish desires of extreme youth, cried out for that same life ofease and luxury which the beautiful lady depicted in such temptingcolours before her, whilst it shrank instinctively from the poverty, thehard floors, the stewing-pots which awaited her in that squalid hut onthe Aventine where her mother dwelt.

  She hung her head and made no reply, whilst from the group of the youngand idle sycophants who had hung on Dea Flavia's honeyed words just asthey had done round her litter a while ago, came murmurs of extravagantadulation and well-chosen words in praise of her exquisite diction, hermarvellous pity, her every talent and virtue thus freely displayed.

  Even the crowd stared open-mouthed and agape at this wonderful spectacleof so great a lady stooping to parley with a slave.

  The praefect alone remained seemingly unmoved; but the expression ofhidden wrath had once more crept into his eyes, making them look darkand fierce and glowing with savage impotence; and his gaze had remainedfixed on the radiantly beautiful woman who stood there before him in allthe glory of her high descent, her patrician bearing, the exquisitecharm of her personality, seductive in its haughty aloofness, voluptuouseven in its disdainful calm.

  Neither did Menecreta fall a victim to Dea Flavia's melodious voice. Shehad listened from a respectful distance, and with the humble deferenceborn of years of bondage, to the honeyed words with which the greatlady deigned to cajole a girl-slave: but when Dea Flavia had finishedspeaking and the chorus of admiration had died down around her, thefreedwoman, with steps which she vainly tried to render firm, approachedto the foot of the catasta and stood between the great lady and her ownchild.

  She placed one trembling, toil-worn hand on Nola's shoulder and saidgently:

  "Nola, thou hast heard what my lady's grace hath deigned to speak. Ahumble life but yet a free one awaits thee in thy mother's home on theAventine; a life of luxurious slavery doth my lady's grace offer thee.She deigns to say that thou alone shalt choose thy way in life. Thouwast born a slave, Nola, and shouldst know how to obey. Obey my ladythen. Choose thy future, Nola. The humble and free one which I, thymother, have earned for thee, or the golden cage in which this proudlady would deign to keep her latest whim in bondage!"

  Her voice, which at first had been almost steady, died down at the endin a pitiful quiver. It was the last agony of her hopes, the realparting from her child, for even whilst Menecreta's throat was chokedwith sobs, Nola hung her head and great heavy tears dropped from hereyes upon her clasped hands. The child was crying and the motherunderstood.

  She no longer moaned with pain now. The pain was gone; only dull despairremained. Her heart had hungered for the one glad cry of joy: "Mother,I'll come to thee!" It was left starving even through her daughter'stears.

  But those who watched this unwonted scene could not guess what DeaFlavia felt, for her eyes were veiled by her long lashes, and the mouthexpressed neither triumph nor pity. Menecreta now once more tried tosteady her quivering voice; she straightened her weary back and saidquite calmly:

  "My lady's grace has spoken, and the great lords here assembled haveuttered words of praise for an exquisite act of pity. My lady's gracehath spoken and hath told the poor slave, Nola, to choose her own life.But I, the humble freedwoman, will speak in my turn to thee, O DeaFlavia of the imperial house of immortal Caesar, and looking into thineeyes I tell thee that thy pity is but falsehood and thine eloquencenaught but cruelty. By thy words thou didst take my child from me aseffectually as if thou already hadst bought and paid for her. Look atthe child now! She hangs her head and dares not look on me, her mother.Oh! thou didst well choose thy words, oh daughter of imperial Caesar, forthy honeyed words were like the nectar which hid the poison that hathfiltrated into my daughter's heart. Thou hast said it right--her lifewith me had been one of toil and mayhap of misery, but she would havebeen content, for she had never dreamed of another life. But now she hasheard thee speak of marble halls, of music and of flowers, of a life ofease and of vanity, and never again would that child be happy in hermother's arms. Be content, O Augusta! the girl is thine since thycaprice hath willed it so. Even though she chose her mother now, I wouldnot have her, for I know that she would be unhappy in that lonely hut onthe Aventine; and though I have seen much sorrow and endured muchmisery, there is none greater to bear than the sight of a child'ssorrow. Take her, Dea Flavia! thine eloquence has triumphed over amother's broken heart."

  Strangely enough, and to the astonishment of all those present, DeaFlavia had listened patiently and silently whilst the woman spoke, andnow she said quite gently:

  "Nay! thou dost wrong thine own child, Menecreta; see how lovingly sheturns to thee!"

  "Only because in her shallow little heart there has come the firsttwinge of remorse," replied the woman sadly. "Soon, in the lap of thatluxury which thou dost offer h
er, she will have forgotten the mother'sarms in which she weeps to-day."

  "That's enough," suddenly interposed the praefect harshly. "Menecreta,take thy child; take her, I say. Dea Flavia hath relinquished her tothee. Be not a fool and take the child away!"

  But with a gesture of savage pride the freedwoman tore herself away fromNola.

  "No!" she said firmly, "I'll not take her. That proud lady here hathstolen the soul of my child; her body, inert and sad, I'll not have thewhile her heart longs to be away from me. I'll not have her, I say! letthe daughter of Caesar account to the gods above for her tempting words,her honeyed speech and her lies."

  "Silence, woman!" ordered Dea Flavia sternly.

  "Lies, I tell thee, lies," continued the woman who had lost all sense offear in the depth of her misery; "the life of luxury thou dost promisethis child--how long will it last? thy caprice for her--when will ittire? Silence? nay! I'll not be silent," she continued wildly in defiantanswer to angry murmurs from the crowd. "Thou daughter of a house oftyrants, tyrant thyself! a slave to thy paltry whims, crushing beneaththy sandalled feet the hearts of the poor and the cries of theoppressed! Shame on thee! shame on thee, I say!"

  "By the great Mother," said Dea Flavia coldly, "will no one here rid meof this screaming vixen?"

  But even before she had spoken, the angry murmurs around had swollen toloud protestations. Before the praefect's lictors could intervene thecrowd had pushed forward; the men rushed and surrounded the impiouscreature who had dared to raise her voice against one of the divinitiesof Rome: Augusta the goddess.

  One of Dea Flavia's gigantic Ethiopians had seized Menecreta by theshoulder, another pulled her head back by the hair and struck herroughly on the mouth, but she, with the strength of the vanquished,brought down to her knees, frenzied with despair, continued her agonisedcry:

  "A curse upon thee, Dea Flavia, a curse spoken by the dying lips of themother whom thou hast scorned!"

  How she contrived momentarily to free herself from the angry crowd oflictors and of slaves it were impossible to say; perhaps at this momentsomething in Menecreta's wild ravings had awed their spirit andparalysed their hands. Certain it is that for one moment the freedwomanmanaged to struggle to her feet and to drag herself along on her kneesuntil her hands clutched convulsively the embroidered tunic of DeaFlavia.

  "And this is the curse which I pronounce on thee," she murmured in ahoarse whisper, which, rising and rising to higher tones, finally endedin shrieks which reached to the outermost precincts of the Forum. "DeaFlavia, daughter of Octavius Claudius thou art accursed. May thine everydeed of mercy be turned to sorrow and to humiliation, thine every act ofpity prove a curse to him who receives it, until thou on thy knees, artleft to sue for pity to a heart that knoweth it not and findest a deafear turned to thy cry. Hear me, ye gods--hear me!... Magna Mater, hearme!... Mother of the stars--hear me!"

  Superstition, deeply rooted in every Roman heart, held the crowdenthralled even whilst Menecreta's trembling voice echoed against themarble walls of the temples of the gods whom she invoked. No oneattempted to stop her. Dea Flavia's slaves dared not lay a hand on her.It seemed as if Magna Mater herself, the great Mother, had thrown aninvisible mantle over the humble freedwoman, shielding her with god-likepower.

  "Menecreta, raise thyself and come away," said a harsh voice in tones ofcommand. The praefect had at last with the vigorous help of his lictorsmanaged to push his way through the crowd. It was he now who attemptedto raise the woman from her knees. He sharply bade his own men tosilence the woman and to take her away.

  Dea Flavia had remained silent and still. She had not attempted tointerrupt the frenzied woman who called this awful curse upon her; onlyonce, when Menecreta invoked the gods, did a shudder pass through thedelicate body, and her heavy lids fell over her blue eyes, as if theywere trying to shut out some awful vision which the woman's ravings hadconjured up.

  Then in a sudden her mood seemed to change, her serenity returned, andwhen the praefect interposed she put out a restraining hand, warning thelictors not to approach.

  She bent to Menecreta and called her by name, her mellow voice vibratingwith tender tones like the chords of the harp that are touched by amaster hand, and her blue eyes, veiled with tears, looked down withinfinite tenderness on the prostrate figure at her feet.

  "Menecreta," she said gently, "thy sorrow hath made thee harsh. Thegods, believe me, still hold much happiness in store for thee and forthy daughter. See how they refuse to register thy curse which had beenimpious were it not the dictate of thy poor frenzied mind. See,Menecreta, how thou didst misjudge me; what I did, I did because Iwished to test thy love for thy child. I wished to test its trueselflessness. But now I am satisfied and Nola need no longer choose, forshe shall have the luxury for which her young heart doth pine, but sheshall never by me be deprived of her mother's love."

  Even while she spoke, Menecreta struggled to her knees. Her wide-openeyes, over which a mysterious veil seemed to be slowly descending, werefixed on the radiant vision above her. But comprehension had not yetreached her mind. Her spirit had not yet been dragged from the hell ofdespair to this glorious sight of heaven.

  "Menecreta," continued the gentle voice, "thou shalt come to my house. Afree woman, thou shalt be my friend and thy daughter shall be thy happybondswoman. I'll give thee a little home in which thou shalt dwell withher and draw thy last breath in her arms; there shall be a garden therewhich she will plant with roses. Thy days and hers will be onecontinuous joy. Come to me now, Menecreta! Take thy daughter by the handand come and dwell with her in the little house which my slaves shallprepare for thee."

  Her face now was almost on a level with that of Menecreta, whose holloweyes gazed upwards with a look of ecstatic wonder.

  "Who art thou?" murmured the freedwoman; "there is a film over myeyes--I cannot see--art thou a goddess?"

  "Nay!" replied Dea Flavia gently, "only a lonely maiden who has nofriends e'en in the midst of all her riches. A lonely maid whom thoudidst try to curse, asking the gods that her every act of mercy beturned to bitter sorrow. See, she takes thee to her heart and givesthee back thy daughter, a home and happiness."

  "My daughter?" murmured Menecreta.

  "She shall dwell with thee in the house which shall be thine."

  "A home?" and the trembling voice grew weaker, the hollow eyes more dim.

  "Aye! in the midst of a garden, with roses and violets all around."

  "And happiness?" sighed Menecreta.

  And her head fell back against Dea Flavia's arm; her eyes, now veiled bythe film of death gazed, sightless, up at the dome of blue.

  "Menecreta!" cried Dea Flavia, horror-stricken as she felt the feeblebody stiffening against her with the approaching rigidity of death.

  "Mother!" echoed Nola, striving to smother her terror as she threwherself on her knees.

  "The woman is dead," said the praefect quietly.