Burroughs, Edgar Rice - I Am A Barbarian Read online

  Agrippina muttered something that sounded very much like "Nasty little barbarian," and flounced out of the room. There was no more stilt-walking for either Little Boots or myself: she had the stilts broken up and burned.

  "That," said Little Boots, "was a dirty trick-just when I was learning to walk on them: I'm going to get even with her."

  I didn't know how he planned getting even with Agrippina. I felt that it would take nothing less than the Emperor and a couple of cohorts of legionaries to give the old girl what we both thought she had coming to her-nothing, in fact, that two kids could do; but Little Boots was already resourceful in affairs of vengeance.

  "Come!" he said, and led the way to the pool in the peristyle. "Help me catch a frog, Brit."

  That meant that I had to catch the frog, which, of course, was no trick at all.

  "What do you want of a frog?" I asked.

  "Wait and see," said Little Boots. "You are going to be surprised; so will someone else."

  "I don't know what you are going to do," I said, "but I think you had better not do it."

  "Silence, slave!" said Little Boots.

  "You call me that again and I won't play with you," I shot back.

  "Well, you are a slave."

  "I am the great-grandson of Cingetorix."

  "Still, you are yet a slave, and I am a Julian: That's the same as being a god."

  "Nuts!" I said. "Who ever put that silly idea in your head?"

  "My mother has told me that many times. She says that I must never forget it. She also says that someday I may be emperor of Rome."

  "Fat chance," I remarked. "There are too many ahead of you."

  "Mother says that unfortunate accidents sometimes happen and that one can never tell. Of course, Nero and Drusus are older than I, but they might die. I wish they would. I don't like either of them."

  "That is no way to speak of your brothers," I reminded him.

  "They are a couple of stuck-up pip-squeaks. Come on; hide that frog in your tunic and come along with me."

  I did as he bid, wondering. He led the way up to the balcony which ran around the peristyle. It was there that the bedrooms of the family were located. Little Boots sauntered along as innocent as a newly hatched robin-apparently. There seemed to be no one about but his grandmother, who was taking her afternoon siesta. You could hear her taking it from a considerable distance; she was taking it in a big way. "Is she a goddess?" I asked, jerking my head in the direction of the room from which issued Antonia's loud snores.

  "Not quite," said Little Boots, "but almost. She isn't a Julian, but she's the sister of Tiberius."

  "In Britannia," I said, "we have gods and goddesses, but they don't snore."

  "She is almost a Roman goddess; so she can do whatever she pleases, and if it pleases her to snore, she snores."

  He sauntered on nonchalantly and peeked into his mother's room; there was no one there. "Come on in," he invited.

  "I don't want to," I told him. "If she caught me in there, she would have me skinned alive."

  "Fraidy-cat," said Little Boots. "I thought you said you were the great-grandson of Cingetorix. I bet he wouldn't be afraid."

  That was too much for me. "I am not afraid," I boasted, and followed him into the room.

  "Have you the frog?" he asked.

  "I have the frog," I replied.

  "Well, put it in Mother's bed."

  I could feel my hair standing on end. What horrid pathological mental process had put that hideous idea into the brat's head? "Not on your life," I said, backing away.

  "Great-grandson of Cingetorix! Great-grandson of Cingetorix! Great-grandson of Cingetorix!" the imp of Hades kept repeating in a singsong taunt.

  "My great-grandfather was a very brave man," I said, "but he had some brains-which I have inherited. Put the frog in her bed yourself."

  "Put it in; I command you!" he said.

  I told him to go and jump in the pool.

  "You won't?" he demanded.

  "No."

  "Then I'll put it in myself, and if they suspect me, I shall say that you did it."

  "And they'll cut my throat, and you won't have anyone to play with."

  He thought this over, but he went and put the frog in Agrippina's bed. By that time I had fled.

  Butter wouldn't have melted in Little Boots' mouth that evening at supper. He was so angelic that Germanicus was apprehensive concerning the state of his health. "What do you suppose is the matter with Caligula?" he demanded.

  Everybody looked at Little Boots: his mother, his grandmother, and his two brothers, Nero and Drusus.

  "Are you ill, darling?" inquired Agrippina.

  "Yes," lied Little Boots.

  "If the child is ill, he should not be permitted to eat anything more today. He should be put right to bed," said Antonia.

  "I'm not that ill," said Little Boots hurriedly.

  As usual at mealtimes, I was standing directly behind him, and I had difficulty in suppressing a grin-a grin tempered by apprehension. I could not get that frog out of my mind.

  "The little pig has probably been stealing pastries from the pantry," suggested Drusus, giving Caligula a dirty look.

  "If you will look around, you will probably find that he has been drawing pictures on Grandmother's walls again," suggested Nero.

  "I have not," yelled Little Boots at the top of his lungs. "I have not. But I know what you've been doing, and if you aren't careful, I'll tell. Yah!" and he stuck out his tongue at Nero. A great light burst suddenly upon my consciousness and my throat suddenly felt much safer.

  "Shut up, brat!" snapped Nero.

  "Children! Children!" chided Germanicus.

  "Just what have you been doing, Nero?" demanded Agrippina.

  "Nothing," replied Nero, sullenly; but then, as he was always sullen, this aroused no comment.

  Antonia sent a slave to inspect her walls.

  Supper passed off without further incident, Agrippina keeping up a steady stream of adverse criticism of practically everybody who was unfortunate enough to be mentioned and especially of the Emperor Tiberius, principally, I gathered, due to the fact that he was descended from a line of scrofulous ancestors rather than from one that was divine, epileptic, and insane. Of course, she didn't put it exactly that way.

  An hour after supper they sent Little Boots off to bed, and of course I had to go along with him. Our room was off the balcony right across the peristyle from Agrippina's, and Nero and Drusus each had a room on the same side. Being older, they were allowed to sit up later than was Little Boots. Nero was eleven then, and Drusus ten. I was just the same age as Nero, and I used to wish sometimes that I could play with him and Drusus instead of having to tag around after a baby. That was before I really got acquainted with them. After I did, I would just about as soon have played with Agrippina. They were arrogant, sullen little beasts, hating each other cordially. Drusus was especially bitter because Nero, being older, stood a better chance of some day becoming emperor. From birth, apparently, all the male children in both lines had that idea impressed upon them-to grow up and become an emperor and be poisoned or stabbed in the back. It always seemed to me a ridiculous ambition.

  Personally, as long as I had to live in Rome, I preferred to be a slave; for I soon discovered that a well-behaved slave in a wealthy family was about the happiest and safest creature in the Eternal City. As soon as you started up-freedman, freeman, citizen, office holder-then someone below you started sitting up nights brewing poison or sharpening a dagger.

  It took me some time to get to sleep that night. In the first place, I was too old to go to bed so early, and, in the second, I had something on my mind. And then a remark of Little Boots just before he fell asleep did not tend to quiet my nerves. He said, "You don't have to worry about having your throat cut, Brit. Mother was just talking nonsense when she said that."

  "What do you mean, I don't have to worry about having my throat cut?" I asked.

  "It's like this
," said Little Boots. "When a slave commits a crime, we do not cut his throat; we crucify him." Then the little brat went to sleep as though his conscience were perfectly snow-white, only I think he never had any conscience. Absolute, 100 per cent selfishness and a conscience cannot abide in the same soul. Perhaps I should say in the same ego, as Caligula had no soul.

  I must have fallen asleep eventually, because I was later awakened, a phenomenon which presupposes prior slumber; and how I was awakened! A series of terrifying shrieks and screams were fairly raising the roof from the house of Antonia; then I heard people rushing from doorways all over the place, asking "What?" and "Which?" and "Who?"

  I did not have to ask what or which or who. I knew all the answers to these, and now I had the answer to one I had been asking myself just before I fell asleep: When? Knowing all the answers, I was most incurious; so I pulled the covers up over my head and lay very quiet.

  Notwithstanding all the racket, Agrippina found Little Boots and me fast asleep when she came barging into our room. She kicked me, and then she shook Little Boots. We were now awake.

  "Which one of you imps of Satan put that frog in my bed?" she demanded.

  "What frog?" asked Little Boots.

  "The frog in my bed," she snapped.

  "In your bed?"

  "Yes, in my bed. Was it you or this filthy little barbarian? Speak up, before I skin you both alive."

  Agrippina was overwrought. Germanicus stood behind her, and Antonia, and Nero, and Drusus, with a rear guard of freedmen and slaves; also the fat little majordomo, Serenus. Some of the slaves bore torches, and in their light I could have sworn that I saw the shadow of a smile on the lips of Germanicus.

  "Well?" demanded Agrippina.

  Being in the presence of members of the imperial family, I had stood up as soon as Agrippina got through kicking me. I kept thinking of the slaves I had seen nailed to crosses along the Via Flaminia, and I had to concentrate on the fact that I was the great-grandson of Cingetorix to make my knees behave.

  I was wondering what Little Boots would say. He said nothing-for the moment.

  "Was it you, Servus?" the granddaughter of Augustus demanded, casting a mean eye on me, an eye surcharged with loathing.

  "No," I said, "I would not dare."

  The old girl turned that eye on Little Boots. The ball of one bare foot was tapping ominously upon the mosaic of the floor-on the rear end of a naked cherub, I recall.

  "Caligula!" she barked. "You did it."

  "I did not," yelled Little Boots, and he began to scream.

  "That will do, Caligula! " snapped Germanicus, and that did do. Little Boots shut up.

  "One of you must have done it," said Agrippina, still probing.

  "We did not," said Little Boots, and I breathed again. "Nero did it." I stopped breathing.

  Nero let out a yell that must have startled the sentries in the Praetorian Camp. "Shrimp! Beetle! Bedbug!" he screamed. "He lies!"

  "I saw him," said Little Boots, without turning a hair. "He wanted me to do it, but I wouldn't."

  "Wait 'till I get hold of you," said Nero. "I'll wring your foul neck; just wait."

  "You'll do nothing of the kind," said Germanicus, "and we've had about enough of this. Get off to bed, all of you. Come on, Aggie; you're making an awful fuss over a little childish joke."

  "Childish joke!" she snorted. "And how many times do I have to tell you not to call me Aggie?"

  I lay awake for some time after they had gone away. I heard Agrippina stewing in her room for some little time, and the last thing I recall of that harrowing night was the snores of Antonia.

  Chapter III

  A.U.C.770 [A.D. 171]

  THE NEXT day dawned clear and beautiful. A lark sang in the spacious gardens in the rear of the house of Antonia as Little Boots and I prepared to arise, eager for the great spectacle which we were to view this day-the triumph of Germanicus. The Roman sun looked down upon a Roman world; even the air was Roman air, and no cloud sullied the spotless blue of the Roman heavens-at least, not at first; then Nero Caesar burst upon our horizon, a thundercloud of the first magnitude. He appeared to be angryquite angry, in fact; and he had a stick in his hand.

  "Don't touch me!" yelled Little Boots. "Brit! Brit! Don't let him touch me! Knock his block off!"

  I backed up and stood in front of Little Boots, but I inwardly questioned the wisdom of knocking the block off Nero Caesar. I had learned that one does not with impunity knock the block off a Caesar, and the memory of the crucified slaves along the Via Flaminia arose to counsel me.

  I thought of a better plan. Turning and stooping, I whispered to Little Boots, "Scream! Scream like hell!"

  Little Boots, catching the drift of the idea, screamed. Nero's lower jaw sprung loose and dangled; his eyes popped; then he turned and vanished into the golden sunlightand not a moment too soon, for in about seven seconds the balcony was jammed with spectators, including Agrippina.

  "Now what?" she demanded, seeing no blood on the furniture and Little Boots quite evidently hale and hearty.

  "Nero," said Little Boots.

  "He didn't do anything to Little Boots," I said. "Really he didn't."

  "Shut up, slave!" said Agrippina. "I didn't ask you. Learn your place, if you do not wish to be flogged." It was once more further borne in upon my consciousness that Agrippina was not fond of me.

  "What did Nero do to you, Caligula?" she insisted. "Tell Mamma."

  "He beat me over the head with a big stick and was going to stab me with a dagger-my brother whom I so love!" said Little Boots, sorrowfully. Agrippina whirled on me. "Why didn't you protect my baby-you-you-you-"

  "Filthy barbarian," I suggested, to help her out.

  Agrippina choked; she was gathering strength for another burst when a man's voice, from the doorway, said, "What is all this commotion?" and Germanicus strode into the room. He walked over to Little Boots and examined his head, looking for cuts, bruises, and abrasions, I imagine; but of course he didn't find any. "Did Nero strike him, or threaten to stab him, Britannicus?" he asked.

  I glanced fearfully at Agrippina and shook my head; then Germanicus turned Caligula over his knee and spanked his bare bottom. "This," he said, "will help to remind you not to lie." Then he laid on a few more, nicely timed, and added, "And these will remind you not to scream unless you have something to scream for, like this," and he lambasted him with a few more real stingers.

  I could have suggested quite a number of additional reminders, and I think that Germanicus was trying to recall some more, when Agrippina rushed up and tore Little Boots from his embrace. "You brute!" she cried. Germanicus sighed and walked out of the room. The episode was closed.

  We drove to the Forum in several vehicles to witness the triumph. Germanicus, of course, had to leave earlier than the rest of us, as he was to ride in the great procession. Agrippina and Antonia rode alone in a magnificent carpentum encrusted with gold and set with precious jewels, its interior upholstered in rarest fabrics. As usual, Agrippina was taking it big and looking down her long nose at the poor plebs who lined the way.

  The street along which the parade was to pass on its way to the Forum was lined on both sides by the Roman populace; they thronged the steps of public buildings, hung from every window and balcony, and jammed the sidewalks, where they were held back by the city watch.

  Nero Caesar, Drusus Caesar, and Caius Caesar rode together in a four-horse carruca, behind which were three more, less ornate, which carried the freedmen and slaves of the family who always accompanied it wherever it went. I rode in that directly behind Caius, my master.

  The Roman populace, the common herd, the plebs have always aroused within me a feeling of disgust and loathing. They are ignorant, stupid, cruel, debased by generations of virtual mendicancy. From earliest times, they have arrogantly demanded and received the dole from the government. Even as long ago as the coming of Julius Caesar into power there had been three hundred and twenty thousand Romans enjoying
free grain at the State's expense, possibly half the population of the city. Now there were a great many more-a race of mean and unscrupulous beggars, befouled by crime and immorality. It was these who cheered Agrippina and her degenerate brood as they passed along the streets of Rome that day. On the slightest pretext they might on the morrow have torn them limb from limb. I sometimes speculate upon the future of an Italy peopled by the descendants of such as these. However, Agrippina was always popular with them.

  Arriving at the Forum, we took our places in the loge of the Emperor, from which we were to review the parade. It was the first time that I had seen Tiberius, and I received then an impression that never altered: here was a great man, a great general, and a great emperor. Rome was full of his detractors, and they increased in number and virulence during the remainder of his reign and long after his death, encouraged by those nobles who desired a return of the Republic that they might have free rein to rob the people and the provinces, and by the Julians who wished to succeed to the imperial purple.

  Tiberius was an extraordinarily handsome man, at that time about fifty-eight. He was inclined to be shy, for he was more accustomed to the camps of legionaries than he was to the society of corrupt and degenerate Rome. There was constraint in the meeting of Agrippina and the Emperor. He disapproved of her and knew that she hated him. She looked upon him with contempt, because he belonged to the scrofulous rather than the epileptic branch of the family. With the children, he was smiling and gracious, and he had a pleasant word for Antonia, the widow of his brother; but between Agrippina and himself there was but a bare exchange of coolest civilities, the civilities all being upon the part of Tiberius. As usual, the old shewolf acted like hell. She seemed old to me then, although she was only about thirty, as I was but eleven.

  However, my mind was soon relieved of thoughts concerning the Julian-Claudian feud: the martial music of horns and trumpets was announcing the approach of the parade.