A Friend of Caesar by William Stearns Davis

W >> William Stearns Davis >> A Friend of Caesar

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34

[127] $24,000.

"Ah, luckless Calatinus!" laughed Agias. "That will be the end of his
marrying the handsomest woman in Rome. And so this is what you came
here to tell me? It really was a good secret to keep."

"_St!_" interrupted Pisander, "Pratinas has something else to attend
to. Calatinus will get consolation for losing his dear spouse. I
suppose Pratinas wishes to indemnify him, but he himself will make a
good bit at the same time."

In a twinkling a thought had flashed through Agias's mind, that made a
cold sweat break out all over him, and a hot surge of blood mount to
his head.

"Man, man!" he cried, grasping Pisander's wrists with all his
strength, "speak! Don't look at me this way! Don't say that you mean
Artemisia?"

"_Ai!_ You know the girl, then?" said the other, with the most
excruciating inquisitiveness.

"Know her?" raged Agias, "I love the sunbeam on which her eyes rest.
Speak! Tell me all, everything, all about it I Quick! I must know!"

Pisander drew himself together, and with a deliberation that was
nearly maddening to his auditor, began:--

"Well, you see, I had occasion this morning to be in Calatinus's
library. Yes, I remember, I was just putting the new copy of Theognis
back into the cupboard, when I noticed that the Mimnermus was not
neatly rolled, and so I happened to stay in the room, and--"

"By Zeus, speak faster and to the point!" cried Agias.

"Oh, there wasn't very much to it all! Why, how excited you are!
Pratinas came into the atrium, and Calatinus was already there. I
heard the latter say, 'So I am to give you forty thousand sesterces
for the little girl you had with you at the circus yesterday?' And
Pratinas replied, 'Yes, if she pleases you. I told you her name was
Artemisia, and that I always taught her to believe that she was my
niece.'"

"_Hei! Hei!_" groaned Agias, rushing up and down the room, half
frantic. "Don't tell any more, I've heard enough! Fool, fool I have
been, to sit in the sunshine, and never think of preparing to carry
out my promise to Sesostris. No, you must tell me--you must tell me if
you have learned any more. Did Calatinus fix on any time at which he
was to take possession of the poor girl?"

"No," replied the still amazed Pisander. "I did not hear the whole
conversation. There was something about 'a very few days,' and then
Pratinas began to condole with Calatinus over being beaten for the
tribunate after having spent so much money for the canvass. But why
are you so stirred up? As Plato very admirably observes in his
'Philebus'--"

"The Furies seize upon your 'Philebus'!" thundered Agias. "Keep quiet,
if you've nothing good to tell! Oh, Agias, Agias! where are your wits,
where is your cunning? What in the world can I do?"

And so he poured out his distress and anger. But, after all, there was
nothing to be done that night. Pisander, who at last began to realize
the dilemma of his friend, ventured on a sort of sympathy which was
worse than no sympathy at all, for philosophical platitudes are ever
the worst of consolations. Agias invited the good man to spend the
night with him, and not risk a second time the robbers of the streets.
The young Greek himself finally went to bed, with no definite purpose
in his mind except to rescue Artemisia, at any and every hazard, from
falling into the clutches of Calatinus, who was perhaps the one man in
the world Agias detested the most heartily.

II

Early in the morning Agias was awake. He had slept very little. The
face of Artemisia was ever before him, and he saw it bathed in tears,
and clouded with anguish and terror. But, early as he arose, it was
none too early. Dromo, one of his slaves, came to announce to his
dread lord that an aged Ethiop was waiting to see him, and Agias did
not need to be told that this was Sesostris.

That faithful servant of an unworthy master was indeed in a pitiable
condition. His ordinarily neat and clean dress was crumpled and
disarranged, as though he had not changed it during the night, but had
rather been tossing and wakeful. His eyes were swollen, and tears were
trickling down his cheeks. His voice had sunk to a husky choking, and
when he stood before Agias he was unable to get out a word, but, after
a few vain attempts which ended in prolonged sniffles, thrust into his
young friend's hand a tablet.

It was in Greek, in the childish, awkward hand of Artemisia, and ran
as follows:--

"Artemisia to her dear, dear Agias. I never wrote a letter before, and
you must excuse the blunders in this. I don't know how to begin to
tell you the dreadful thing that may happen to me. I will try and stop
crying, and write it out just as it all happened. The day before
yesterday Pratinas took me to the circus, where I enjoyed the racing
very much. While we were sitting there, a very fine gentleman--at
least he had purple stripes on his tunic and ever so many rings--came
and sat down beside us. Pratinas told me that this gentleman was
Lucius Calatinus, who was a great lord, but a friend of his. I tried
to say something polite to Calatinus, but I didn't like him. He seemed
coarse, and looked as though he might be cruel at times. He talked to
me something the way you have talked--said I was pretty and my voice
sounded very sweet. But I didn't enjoy these things from him, I can
hardly tell why--though I'm delighted to hear you say them. Well,
after quite a while he went away, and I didn't think anything more
about him for a time, and yesterday you know how happy I was when you
visited me. Only a little while after you left, Pratinas came back. I
could see that he had something on his mind, although he said nothing.
He seemed uneasy, and kept casting sidelong glances at me, which made
me feel uncomfortable. I went up to him, and put my arms around his
neck. 'Dear uncle,' I said, 'what is troubling you to-night?'
'Nothing,' he answered, and he half tried to take my arms away. Then
he said, 'I was thinking how soon I was to go back to Alexandria.' 'To
Alexandria!' I cried, and I was just going to clap my hands when I
thought that, although Alexandria was a far nicer place than Rome, you
could not go with us, and so I felt very sorry. Then Pratinas spoke
again in a hard, cold voice he has never used to me before.
'Artemisia, I must tell you now the truth about yourself. I have let
you call me uncle, and have tried to be kind to you. But you cannot
come back to Alexandria with me. The day after to-morrow Calatinus,
the gentleman you met at the circus yesterday, will come and take you
away. He is a very rich man, and if you please him will give you
everything you desire.' I couldn't understand at all what he meant,
and cried out, 'But, uncle, I don't like Calatinus, and you--you don't
really mean to leave me behind?' 'You little donkey,' said Pratinas,
laughing, oh! so heartlessly, 'I'm not your uncle. You've been my
slave, and I've sold you to Calatinus; so don't quarrel with him, but
learn to like him quickly.' I don't remember what he said or I said
next. I was so frightened and grieved that I don't know what I did. I
know Pratinas finally whipped me, something he never did before. I
went to bed feeling so sore, that I could not get really to sleep, but
dreadful visions of Calatinus kept frightening me. I don't know which
grieves me most, to know I am a slave, to know that Pratinas is not my
uncle and does not love me, or to be about to be sold to Calatinus.
Dear Sesostris has done all he can to console me, but that's very
little; and so, very early this morning, I've written to you, Agias,
just as soon as Pratinas left the house, for I am sure that you, who
are so clever and wise, can see some way to get me out of my dreadful
trouble."

It would be hardly necessary to say that, after reading this appeal,
Agias hurried away to do all that lay in his power to console
Artemisia, and deliver her from her danger. When he reached Pratinas's
tenement, Artemisia ran to meet him, and kissed him again and again,
and cuddled down in his strong, young arms, quite content to believe
that she had found a protector on whom she could cast all her burdens.
And Agias? He laughed and bade her wipe away her tears, and swore a
great oath that, so long as he breathed, Calatinus should not lay a
finger upon her.

Artemisia had practically told all her story in her letter. It was
clear that Calatinus had caught sight of her several times,--though
she had remained in blissful ignorance,--and Pratinas had deliberately
planned to waylay him as a customer who would pay a good price for the
girl, whom it would be manifestly inconvenient for him to take with
Valeria on his premeditated flight to Egypt. But this enlightenment
did not make Agias's task any the easier. He knew perfectly well that
he could never raise a tithe of the forty thousand sesterces that
Pratinas was to receive from Calatinus, and so redeem Artemisia. He
had no right to expect the gift of such a sum from Drusus. If Pratinas
really owned the poor girl as a slave, he could do anything he listed
with her, and no law could be invoked to say him nay. There was only
one recourse left to Agias, and that was fairly desperate--to carry
off Artemisia and keep her in hiding until Pratinas should give up the
quest and depart for Egypt. That there was peril in such a step he was
well aware. Not merely could Artemisia, if recaptured, receive any
form whatsoever of brutal punishment, but he, as the abettor of her
flight, would be liable to a heavy penalty. Slave property was
necessarily very precarious property, and to aid a slave to escape was
an extremely heinous crime. "So many slaves, so many enemies," ran the
harsh maxim; and it was almost treason to society for a freedman to
aid a servant to run away.

But Agias had no time to count the cost, no time to evolve a plan of
escape that admitted no form of disaster. Artemisia besought him not
to leave her for a moment, and accordingly he remained by her,
laughing, poking fun, and making reckless gibes at her fears.
Sesostris went about his simple household duties with a long face, and
now and then a tear trickled down his cheek. Whatever came of the
matter, Artemisia would have to be separated from him. He might never
see her again, and the old Ethiopian loved her more than he did life
itself.

"You will not wrong the girl when she is with you?" he whispered
dolefully to Agias.

"I swear by Zeus she shall be treated as if she were my own dear
sister," was his reply.

"It is well. I can trust you; but _mu! mu!_ it is hard, it is hard! I
love her like my own eyes! Isis preserve her dear life!"

And so at last Artemisia, having cried out all her first burst of
grief, was beginning to smile once more.

"And now, oh! makaira,"[128] said Agias, "I must go away for just a
little while. I have ever so many things to attend to; and you must be
a good, brave girl, and wait until I come back."

[128] Blessed dear.

"_St!"_ broke in Sesostris, "there's a step on the stairs. Pratinas is
coming!"

"Hide me!" cried Agias, as the approaching feet grew nearer. There was
no time to take refuge in one of the farther rooms.

"Here;" and Sesostris threw open the same iron clamped chest in which
some time ago we saw Pratinas inspecting his treasure. "The money was
taken out yesterday."

Agias bounded into the box, and Sesostris pushed down the cover. The
luckless occupant had only a chance to push out a corner of his tunic
through the slit to admit a little air, when Pratinas entered the
room. Agias longed to spring forth and throttle him, but such an act
would have been folly.

The young Greek's prison was sufficiently cramped and stuffy; but for
a moment Agias tried to persuade himself that he had only to wait with
patience until Pratinas should be gone, and no one would be the worse.
An exclamation from the room without dispelled this comforting
illusion.

"By Zeus!" cried Pratinas, "what is this? Whence came this new toga?"

Agias writhed in his confinement. In the plentitude of the glory of
his newly acquired freedom, he had come abroad in an elegant new toga;
but he had laid it on a chair when he entered the room.

There was an awkward pause outside; then Pratinas burst out, "You
worthless Ethiopian, you, where did this toga come from? It hasn't
wings or feet! How came it here? Who's been here? Speak, speak, you
fool, or I will teach you a lesson!"

Agias gathered himself for a spring; for he expected to hear Sesostris
whimper out a confession, and see Pratinas's wickedly handsome face
peering into the chest. "He shan't cut my throat without a struggle!"
was his vow.

But, to his surprise, Sesostris answered with a tone of unlooked-for
firmness, "Master, I cannot tell you where the toga came from."

The tone of Pratinas, in reply, indicated his passion. "Sheep! Dog!
Have I had you all these years that you should need a thrashing for
impertinence! What rascal has been here to ogle at this wretched
girl?" He might have thundered his commands to Artemisia, who was
sobbing in evident distress; but his anger was concentrated on
Sesostris. "Will you not speak?"

"Master," came the same firm reply, "I will not tell you, though you
take my life for refusing."

What followed was, as Agias heard it, a volley of curses, blows,
groans, and scuffling; then a heavy fall; an extremely fierce
execration from Pratinas, and a loud shrill scream from Artemisia, "O
Sesostris; dear Sesostris! He doesn't speak! He doesn't move! You've
killed him!"

"And I will kill you too if you won't tell the truth!" thundered
Pratinas, in an ungovernable passion. Agias heard a blow as of a
clinched fist, and a low moan. It was enough. One spring, and the
ponderous cover flew back. The toga, the innocent cause of the
catastrophe, lay on the chair close at hand. Agias grasped the whole
picture in a twinkling: Sesostris lying beside a heavy wooden bench,
with blood flowing from a great wound in his head which had struck in
falling on a sharp corner; Artemisia crying in unspeakable dread on a
divan; Pratinas, his face black as night, with uplifted hand prepared
to strike a second time. Agias saw; and while he saw acted. Down over
Pratinas's head dashed the broad linen folds of the toga, and two
muscular arms drew it tight around the neck. Then began the struggle.
Pratinas was of powerful physique, and resisted like a madman. The
carpet was torn to shreds, the chairs shivered. But Agias, too,
battled for grim life. He kept the hood over his opponent's eyes and
never gave Pratinas a glimpse of the identity of his assailant. And at
last a life of debauches and late dinners and unhealthy excitement
began to tell against even so powerful a constitution as that of
Pratinas. Tighter and tighter grew the pressure around his neck. And
now Artemisia sprang up, and flew like a tiny tigress to her lover's
assistance, and caught at her tormentor's hands, tearing them with her
white little teeth, and pulling the enveloping mantle closer and
closer. The contest could only have one end. Ere long, Pratinas was
lying on the floor, bound hand and foot with strings of torn clothing,
and his head still muffled in the toga. Agias, victorious, but with
not a whole rag on his back, rose from his contest.

"Sesostris! help him!" cried Artemisia, trying in vain to get some
response from the motionless form by the bench. Agias looked at the
Ethiop. The hard wood had struck the top of his skull, and death must
have been instantaneous.

"He does not feel any pain," explained the young Greek, who realized
that this was no moment to indulge in emotions of any sort. "Now,
Artemisia, you must hurry and put on a clean dress yourself; and give
me at least a new tunic, for I cannot show this on the streets. Put
into a basket all the bread you have, and some oil, and some olives,
and some slices of salt fish."

Artemisia disappeared in the next room. Agias returned to his
prisoner. Pratinas was coughing and twisting, and trying to ejaculate
oaths.

"My good sir," said Agias, "I am not a bloodthirsty man, otherwise I
would cut your throat, and so let you forget a predicament which
doubtless embarrasses you not a little. But, since that is not to be,
do not blame me if I arrange so that it will be unlikely that two such
cold friends as you and myself will ever meet again. First of all,
that purse which is at your side, and which, by its weight, shows that
it contains a fair night's winnings, must go with me to speed me on my
way. I have never stolen very much before. But I believe you, sir, are
an Epicurean, who teach that pleasure is the highest good, and that
all things are the result of chance. Now," and here he detached the
purse, and counted over a very considerable sum, "you will observe
that Fortune has thrown this money in my way, and it is my pleasure to
take it. Therefore I am fulfilling the highest good. And you, as a
philosopher, should be quite reconciled."

Artemisia came back into the room, having completed the few simple
preparations.

"Now, my excellent sir," continued Agias, suiting his actions to his
words, "I will stand you on your feet--so. I will push you, still
bound, into this closet--so. I will pile furniture against the door,
so that, when you have worked clear of your bonds, as I imagine you
will in a few hours, even then you will not get out too quickly. And
now, as your dear Roman friends say, _Vale!_ We are off!"

Artemisia flung herself on the form of Sesostris, and covered the
black, ugly face with kisses.

"He's growing cold," she lamented. "What is the matter? I can't leave
him this way!"

But Agias did not dare to admit the least delaying.

"Dear Artemisia," he said, "we can't do anything for Sesostris. I will
explain to you by and by about him. He is not feeling cold now at all.
You must come at once with me. I will take you where Pratinas will
never touch you."

III

If Agias had been a trifle more reckless he would have cut short
Pratinas's thread of life then and there, and greatly diminished the
chance of unpleasant consequences. But he had not sunk so low as that.
Besides, he had already worked out in his versatile head a plan that
seemed practicable, albeit utterly audacious. Cornelia was at Baiae.
Cornelia owed him a great debt of gratitude for saving Drusus.
Cornelia might harbour Artemisia as a new maid, if he could contrive
to get his charge over the hundred long miles that lay between Rome
and Baiae.

In the street he made Artemisia draw her mantle over her pretty face,
and pressed through the crowds as fast as he could drag her onward.
Quickly as he might he left the noisy Subura behind, and led on toward
the Palatine. At length he turned in toward a large house, and by a
narrow alley reached a garden gate, and gained admission to the rear.
By his confident movements he showed himself familiar with the spot.
The dwelling, as a matter of fact, was that of Calatinus.

As Agias pushed open the gate, and led Artemisia into a little garden
enclosed with a high stone wall, he surprised a dapper-appearing young
slave-lad of about his age, who was lying idly on the tiny grass plot,
and indulging in a solitary game of backgammon.[129]

[129] _Duodecim scripta_.

"_Hem!_ Iasus," was Agias's salutation, "can you do an old friend a
favour?"

Iasus sprang to his feet, with eyes, nose, and mouth wide open. He
turned red, turned white, turned red once more.

"_Phy!_" cried the other; "you aren't so silly as to take me for a
shade from Hades? I've as much strength and muscle as you."

"Agias!" blurted out Iasus, "are you alive? Really alive? They didn't
beat you to death! I am so glad! You know--"

"_St!_" interrupted Agias. "You did, indeed, serve me an awkward trick
some time since; but who can blame you for wanting to save your own
skin. Pisander and Arsinoe and Semiramis have kept the secret that I'm
alive very well, for in some ways it shouldn't come to Valeria's ears.
My story later. Where's her most noble ladyship?"

"The domina," replied Iasus, with a sniff, "has just gone out on a
visit to a friend who has a country-house near Fidenae, up the Tiber."

"Praise the gods! Far enough to be abroad for the day, and perhaps
over night! This suits my purpose wonderfully. Is Pisander at home,
and Arsinoe?"

"I will fetch them," replied Iasus; and in a minute the philosopher
and the waiting-maid were in the garden.

A very few words explained to these two sympathetic souls the whole
situation.

Artemisia shrank back at sight of Pisander.

"I am afraid of that man. He wears a great beard like Pratinas, and I
don't love Pratinas any longer."

"Oh, don't say that, my little swallow," said the worthy man of books,
looking very sheepish. "I should be sorry to think that your bright
eyes were vexed to see me."

"_Phui!_ Pisander," laughed Arsinoe, "what have Zeno and Diogenes to
do with 'bright eyes'?"

But for once Pisander's heart was wiser than his head, and he only
tossed Artemisia an enormous Persian peach, at which, when she sampled
the gift, she made peace at once, and forever after held Pisander in
her toils as a devoted servant.

But Agias was soon gone; and Artemisia spent the rest of the morning
and the whole of the afternoon in that very satisfactory Elysium of
Syrian pears and honey-apples which Semiramis and Arsinoe supplied in
full measure, with Pisander to sit by, and stare, boylike, at her
clear, fair profile, and cast jealous glances at Iasus when that young
man ventured to utilize his opportunity for a like advantage. Many of
the servants had gone with Valeria, and the others readily agreed to
preserve secrecy in a matter in which their former fellow-slave and
favourite had so much at stake. So the day passed, and no one came to
disturb her; and just as the shadows were falling Agias knocked at the
garden gate.

"_St!_" were his words, "I have hired a gig which will carry us both.
Pratinas is loose and has been raising heaven and earth to get at us.
There is a crier going the rounds of the Forum offering a thousand
sesterces for the return of Artemisia. Pratinas has gone before the
_triumviri capitales_[130] and obtained from them an order on the
_apparitores_[131] to track down the runaway and her abettor."

[130] One of their functions made these officers practically chiefs
of police.

[131] A part of these public officers performed police duty.

"_Eho!_" cried Pisander, "then you'd better leave your treasure here
awhile, for us to take care of."

"Not at all," replied Agias; "I could have taken her out of the city
at once, but in the daytime we should have been certainly noticed and
subsequently tracked. No one will imagine Artemisia is here--at least
for a while. But this is a large familia; all may be my friends, but
all may not have prudent tongues in their heads. The reward is large,
and perhaps some will be tempted;" he glanced at Iasus, who, to do him
justice, had never thought of a second deed of baseness. "I cannot
risk that. No, Artemisia goes out of the city to-night, and she must
get ready without the least delay."

Artemisia, who was charmed with her present surroundings and
adulation, demurred at leaving her entertainers; but Agias was
imperative, and the others realized well enough that there was not
much time to be lost. Agias, however, waited until it had become
tolerably dark before starting. Meantime, he proceeded to make certain
changes of his own and Artemisia's costume that indicated the rather
serious character of the risk he was preparing to run. For himself he
put on a very full and flowing crimson evening dress, as if he were
proceeding to a dinner-party; he piled a dozen odd rings upon his
fingers, and laughingly asked Semiramis to arrange his hair for him in
the most fashionable style, and anoint it heavily with Valeria's most
pungent perfumes. At the same time, Arsinoe was quite transforming
Artemisia. Valeria's cosmetic vials were for once put into play for a
purpose, and when Artemisia reappeared from the dressing-room after
her treatment, Agias saw before him no longer a fair-skinned little
Greek, but a small, slender, but certainly very handsome Egyptian
serving-lad, with bronzed skin, conspicuous carmine lips, and features
that Arsinoe's paint and pencils had coarsened and exaggerated.
Fortunately, the classic costume both for men and women was so
essentially alike, that Artemisia did not have to undergo that
mortification from a change of clothes which might have befallen one
at the present day in a like predicament. Her not very long black hair
was loose, and shaken over her shoulders. Agias had brought for her a
short, variegated _lacerna_[132] which answered well enough as the
habit of a boy-valet who was on good terms with his master.

[132] A sort of mantle held on the shoulders by a clasp.

"_Eho!_" cried Agias, when he had witnessed the transformation, "we
must hasten or Valeria will be anxious to keep you as her serving-boy!
Ah, I forgot she is going with her dear Pratinas to Egypt. Now,
Arsinoe, and you, Semiramis, I shall not forget the good turn you have
done me; don't let Valeria miss her unguents and ask questions that
might prove disagreeable. Farewell, Iasus and Pisander; we shall soon
meet again, the gods willing."

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34