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A Friend of Caesar by William Stearns Davis

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It seemed, however, that the contest could have only a single ending.
The soldiers were running parallel and apace with the barge, which was
now as close to the northern bank as was safe in view of the missiles.
The Pons Sublicius was getting minute by minute nearer, and upon it
could be seen a considerable body of troops ready with darts and
grapnels to cut off the last hope of escape.

But Antonius never withdrew his eye from the line of dark
weatherbeaten warehouses that stretched down to the river's edge on
the north bank just above the Pons Sublicius.

"Row," he exhorted his companions, "row! as life is dear! Row as never
before!"

And under the combined impulse of the three desperate men, even the
heavy barge leaped forward and a little eddy of foaming waves began to
trail behind her stern. Drusus had no time to ask of himself or
Antonius the special object of this last burst of speed. He only knew
that he was flinging every pound of strength into the heavy handle of
his oar, and that his life depended on making the broad blade push
back the water as rapidly as possible. Antonius, however, had had good
cause for his command. A searching scrutiny had revealed to him that a
single very long warehouse ran clear down to the river's edge, and so
made it impossible to continue running along the bank. A pursuer must
double around the whole length of the building before continuing the
chase of the barge. And for a small quay just beyond this warehouse
Antonius headed his clumsy vessel. The soldiers continued their chase
up to the very walls of the warehouse, where they, of a sudden, found
themselves stopped by an impenetrable barrier. They lost an instant of
valuable time in trying to wade along the bank, where the channel
shelved off rapidly, and, finding the attempt useless, dashed a volley
of their missiles after the barge. But the range was very long. Few
reached the vessel; none did damage. The soldiers disappeared behind
the warehouse, still running at a headlong pace. Before they
reappeared on the other side, Antonius had brought his craft to the
quay. There was no time for mooring, and the instant the barge lost
way the hard-pressed Caesarians were on shore. Another instant, and the
clumsy vessel had been caught by the current, and swung out into the
stream.

She had done her work. The pursued men broke into a dash for the
nearest highway. The soldiers were close after them. But they had
flung away their javelins, and what with their heavy armour and the
fatigue of running were quite as exhausted as the Caesarians, three of
whom had been thoroughly winded by their desperate rowing. On the Pons
Sublicius, where a great crowd had gathered to watch the exciting
chase, there was shouting and tumult. No doubt voices few enough would
have been raised for the Caesarians if they had been captured; but now
that they bade fair to escape, the air was thick with gibes at the
soldiers, and cries of encouragement to the pursued. On the two
parties ran. Soon they were plunged in the tortuous, dirty lanes of
the "Trans-Tiber" district, rushing at frantic speed past the shops of
dirty Jews and the taverns of noisy fishermen and sailors. Already
news of the chase had gone before them, and, as Drusus followed his
friends under the half-arching shadows of the tall tenement houses,
drunken pedlers and ribald women howled out their wishes of success,
precisely as though they were in a race-course. Now the dirty streets
were left behind and the fatigued runners panted up the slopes of the
Janiculum, toward the gardens of Caesar. They passed the little grove
sacred to the Furies, and, even as for life he ran, Drusus recalled
with shame how over this very road to this very grove, had fled Caius
Gracchus, the great tribune of the people, whom Drusus's own great
grandfather, Marcus Livius Drusus, had hounded to his death; that day
when all men encouraged him as he ran, but none would raise a hand to
aid.

But now up from the bridge came the thunder of horses'
hoofs,--cavalry, tearing at a furious gallop. Pompeius had evidently
ordered out a _turma_[150] of mounted men to chase down the runaways.
More and more frantic the race--Drusus's tongue hung from his mouth
like a dog's. He flew past a running fountain, and was just desperate
enough to wonder if it was safe to stop one instant and touch--he
would not ask to drink--one drop of the cool water. Fortunately the
Caesarians were all active young men, of about equal physical powers,
and they kept well together and encouraged one another, not by
word--they had no breath for that--but by interchange of courage and
sympathy from eye to eye. The heavy legionaries had given up the
chase; it was the cavalry, now flying almost at their very heels, that
urged them to their final burst of speed.

[150] Squadron of 30 horse.

At last! Here were the gardens of Caesar, and close by the roadway
under a spreading oak, their grooms holding them in readiness for
instant service, were six of the best specimens of horseflesh money
could command.

None of the little party had breath left to speak a word. To fling
themselves into the saddles, to snatch the reins from the attendants'
hands, to plunge the heels of their sandals, in lieu of spurs, into
the flanks of their already restless steeds,--these things were done
in an instant, but none too soon. For, almost as the six riders turned
out upon the road to give head to their horses, the cavalry were upon
them. The foremost rider sent his lance over Curio's shoulder, grazing
the skin and starting blood; a second struck with his short sword at
Caelius's steed, but the horse shied, and before the blow could be
repeated the frightened beast had taken a great bound ahead and out of
danger. This exciting phase of the pursuit, however, was of only
momentary duration. The horses of the Caesarians were so incomparably
superior to the common army hacks of the soldiers, that, as soon as
the noble blooded animals began to stretch their long limbs on the
hard Roman road, the troopers dropped back to a harmless distance in
the rear. The cavalrymen's horses, furthermore, had been thoroughly
winded by the fierce gallop over the bridge, and now it was out of the
question for them to pursue. Before the flight had continued a mile,
the Caesarians had the satisfaction of seeing their enemies draw rein,
then turn back to the city. The friends, however, did not check their
pace until, safe beyond chance of overtaking, they reined in at an
hospitable tavern in the old Etruscan town of Veii.

Here Drusus took leave of Agias.

"You are quite too unimportant an enemy," said he to the young Greek,
"to be worth arrest by the consuls, if indeed they know what part you
have had in our escape. I know not what perils are before me, and I
have no right to ask you to share them. You have long ago paid off any
debt of gratitude that you owed me and mine when Fabia saved your
life. I am your patron no longer; go, and live honourably, and you
will find deposited with Flaccus a sum that will provide for all your
needs. If ever I return to Rome, my party victorious, myself in
favour, then let us renew our friendship; but till then you and I meet
no more."

Agias knelt and kissed Drusus's robe in a semi-Oriental obeisance.

"And is there nothing," he asked half wistfully at the parting, "that
I can yet do for you?"

"Nothing," said Drusus, "except to see that no harm come to my Aunt
Fabia, and if it be possible deliver Cornelia from the clutches of her
bloody uncle."

"Ah!" said Agias, smiling, "that is indeed _something_! But be not
troubled, domine,"--he spoke as if Drusus was still his master,--"I
will find a way."

That evening, under the canopy of night, the five Caesarians sped,
swift as their horses could bear them, on their way to Ravenna.




Chapter XVI

The Rubicon


I

It was growing late, but the proconsul apparently was manifesting no
impatience. All the afternoon he had been transacting the routine
business of a provincial governor--listening to appeals to his
judgment seat, signing requisitions for tax imposts, making out
commissions, and giving undivided attention to a multitude of seeming
trifles. Only Decimus Mamercus, the young centurion,--elder son of the
veteran of Praeneste,--who stood guard at the doorway of the public
office of the praetorium, thought he could observe a hidden nervousness
and a still more concealed petulance in his superior's manner that
betokened anxiety and a desire to be done with the routine of the day.
Finally the last litigant departed, the governor descended from the
curule chair, the guard saluted as he passed out to his own private
rooms, and soon, as the autumn darkness began to steal over the
cantonment, nothing but the call of the sentries broke the calm of the
advancing night.

Caesar was submitting to the attentions of his slaves, who were
exchanging his robes of state for the comfortable evening _synthesis_.
But the proconsul was in no mood for the publicity of the evening
banquet. When his chief freedman announced that the invited guests had
assembled, the master bade him go to the company and inform them that
their host was indisposed, and wished them to make merry without him.
The evening advanced. Twice Caesar touched to his lips a cup of spiced
wine, but partook of nothing else. Sending his servants from his
chamber, he alternately read, and wrote nervously on his tablets, then
erased all that he had inscribed, and paced up and down the room.
Presently the anxious head-freedman thrust his head into the
apartment.

"My lord, it is past midnight. The guests have long departed. There
will be serious injury done your health, if you take no food and
rest."

"My good Antiochus," replied the proconsul, "you are a faithful
friend."

The freedman--an elderly, half-Hellenized Asiatic--knelt and kissed
the Roman's robe.

"My lord knows that I would die for him."

"I believe you, Antiochus. The gods know I never needed a friend more
than now! Do not leave the room."

The general's eyes were glittering, his cheeks flushed with an
unhealthy colour. The freedman was startled.

"Domine, domine!" he began, "you are not well--let me send for
Calchas, the physician; a mild sleeping powder--"

For the first time in his long service of Caesar, Antiochus met with a
burst of wrath from his master.

"Vagabond! Do you think a sleeping potion will give peace to _me_?
Speak again of Calchas, and I'll have you crucified!"

"Domine, domine!" cried the trembling freedman; but Caesar swept on:--

"Don't go from the room! I am desperate to-night. I may lay violent
hands on myself. Why should I not ask you for a poisoned dagger?"

Antiochus cowered at his master's feet.

"Yes, why not? What have I to gain by living? I have won some little
fame. I have conquered all Gaul. I have invaded Britain. I have made
the Germans tremble. Life is an evil dream, a nightmare, a frightful
delusion. Death is real. Sleep--sleep--forever sleep! No care, no
ambition, no vexation, no anger, no sorrow. Cornelia, the wife of my
love, is asleep. Julia is asleep. All that I loved sleep. Why not I
also?"

"Domine, speak not so!" and Antiochus clasped the proconsul's knees.

Caesar bent down and lifted him up by the hand. When he spoke again,
the tone was entirely changed.

"Old friend, you have known me; have loved me. You were my
_pedagogue_[151] when I went to school at Rome. You taught me to ride
and fence and wrestle. You aided me to escape the myrmidons of Sulla.
You were with me in Greece. You shared my joy in my political
successes, my triumphs in the field. And now what am I to do? You know
the last advices from Rome; you know the determination of the consuls
to work my ruin. To-day no news has come at all, and for us no news is
the worst of news."

[151] Slave who looked after the welfare and conduct of a schoolboy.

"Domine," said Antiochus, wiping his eyes, "I cannot dream that the
Senate and Pompeius will deny you your right to the second
consulship."

"But if they do? You know what Curio reports. What then?"

Antiochus shook his head.

"It would mean war, bloody war, the upturning of the whole world!"

"War, or--" and Caesar paused.

"What, my lord?" said the freedman.

"I cease either to be a care to myself or my enemies."

"I do not understand you, domine," ventured Antiochus, turning pale.

"I mean, good friend," said the proconsul, calmly, "that when I
consider how little life often seems worth, and how much disaster the
continuance of my act of living means to my fellow-men, I feel often
that I have no right to live."

Antiochus staggered with dread. Caesar was no longer talking wildly;
and the freedman knew that when in a calm mood the proconsul was
always perfectly serious.

"Domine, you have not rashly determined this?" he hinted.

"I have determined nothing. I never rashly determine anything. Hark!
Some one is at the door."

There was a loud military knock, and the clang of armour.

"Enter," commanded Caesar.

Decimus Mamercus hastened into the room. So great was his excitement
that his Roman discipline had forsaken him. He neglected to salute.

"News! news! Imperator! from Rome! News which will set all Italy
afire!"

Whereupon the man who had but just before been talking of suicide,
with the greatest possible deliberation seated himself on a
comfortable chair, arranged his dress, and remarked with perfect
coldness:--

"No tidings can justify a soldier in neglecting to salute his
general."

Decimus turned red with mortification, and saluted.

"Now," said Caesar, icily, "what have you to report?"

"Imperator," replied Decimus, trying to speak with unimpassioned
preciseness, "a messenger has just arrived from Rome. He reports that
the Senate and consuls have declared the Republic in peril, that the
veto of your tribunes has been over-ridden, and they themselves forced
to flee for their lives."

Caesar had carelessly dropped a writing tablet that he was holding, and
now he stooped slowly and picked it up again.

"The messenger is here?" he inquired, after a pause.

"He is," replied the centurion.

"Has he been duly refreshed after a hard ride?" was the next question.

"He has just come."

"Then let him have the best food and drink my butler and cellarer can
set before him."

"But his news is of extreme importance," gasped Decimus, only half
believing his ears.

"I have spoken," said the general, sternly. "What is his name?"

"He is called Quintus Drusus, Imperator."

"Ah!" was his deliberate response, "send him to me when he will eat
and drink no more."

Decimus saluted again, and withdrew, while his superior opened the
roll in his hands, and with all apparent fixity and interest studied
at the precepts and definitions of the grammar of Dionysius Thrax, the
noted philologist.

At the end of some minutes Quintus Drusus stood before him.

The young Praenestian was covered with dust, was unkempt, ragged; his
step was heavy, his arms hung wearily at his side, his head almost
drooped on his breast with exhaustion. But when he came into the
Imperator's presence, he straightened himself and tried to make a
gesture of salutation. Caesar had risen from his chair.

"Fools!" he cried, to the little group of slaves and soldiers, who
were crowding into the room, "do you bring me this worn-out man, who
needs rest? Who dared this? Has he been refreshed as I commanded?"

"He would take nothing but some wine--" began Decimus.

"I would have waited until morning, if necessary, before seeing him.
Here!" and while Caesar spoke he half led, half thrust, the messenger
into his own chair, and, anticipating the nimblest slave, unclasped
the travel-soiled paenula from Drusus's shoulders. The young man tried
to rise and shake off these ministrations, but the proconsul gently
restrained him. A single look sufficed to send all the curious retinue
from the room. Only Antiochus remained, sitting on a stool in a
distant corner.

"And now, my friend," said Caesar, smiling, and drawing a chair close
up to that of Drusus, "tell me when it was that you left Rome."

"Two days ago," gasped the wearied messenger.

"_Mehercle!_" cried the general, "a hundred and sixty miles in two
days! This is incredible! And you come alone?"

"I had Andraemon, the fastest horse in Rome. Antonius, Caelius, Cassius,
Curio, and myself kept together as far as Clusium. There was no longer
any danger of pursuit, no need for more than one to hasten." Drusus's
sentences were coming in hot pants. "I rode ahead. Rode my horse dead.
Took another at Arretium. And so I kept changing. And now--I am here."
And with this last utterance he stopped, gasping.

Caesar, instead of demanding the tidings from Rome, turned to
Antiochus, and bade him bring a basin and perfumed water to wash
Drusus's feet. Meantime the young man had recovered his breath.

"You have heard of the violence of the new consuls and how Antonius
and Cassius withstood them. On the seventh the end came. The vetoes
were set aside. Our protests were disregarded. The Senate has clothed
the consuls and other magistrates with dictatorial power; they are
about to make Lucius Domitius proconsul of Gaul."

"And I?" asked Caesar, for the first time displaying any personal
interest.

"You, Imperator, must disband your army and return to Rome speedily,
or be declared an outlaw, as Sertorius or Catilina was."

"Ah!" and for a minute the proconsul sat motionless, while Drusus
again kept silence.

"But you--my friends--the tribunes?" demanded the general, "you spoke
of danger; why was it that you fled?"

"We fled in slaves' dresses, O Caesar, because otherwise we should long
ago have been strangled like bandits in the Tullianum. Lentulus Crus
drove us with threats from the Senate. On the bridge, but for the
favour of the gods, his lictors would have taken us. We were chased by
Pompeius's foot soldiers as far as Janiculum. We ran away from his
cavalry. If they hate us, your humble friends, so bitterly, how much
the more must they hate you!"

"And the tribunes, and Curio, and Caelius are on their way hither?"
asked Caesar.

"They will be here very soon."

"That is well," replied the proconsul; then, with a totally unexpected
turn, "Quintus Drusus, what do you advise me to do?"

"I--I advise, Imperator?" stammered the young man.

"And who should advise, if not he who has ridden so hard and fast in
my service? Tell me, is there any hope of peace, of reconciliation
with Pompeius?"

"None."

"Any chance that the senators will recover their senses, and propose a
reasonable compromise?"

"None."

"Will not Cicero use his eloquence in the cause of peace and common
justice?"

"I have seen him. He dare not open his mouth."

"Ah!" and again Caesar was silent, this time with a smile, perhaps of
scorn, playing around his mouth.

"Are the people, the equites, given body and soul over to the war
party?"

Drusus nodded sadly. "So long as the consuls are in the ascendant,
they need fear no revolution at home. The people are not at heart your
enemies, Imperator; but they will wait to be led by the winning side."

"And you advise?"--pressed Caesar, returning to the charge.

"War!" replied Drusus, with all the rash emphasis of youth.

"Young man," said Caesar, gravely, half sadly, "what you have said is
easy to utter. Do you know what war will mean?"

Drusus was silent.

"Let us grant that our cause is most just. Even then, if we fight, we
destroy the Republic. If I conquer, it must be over the wreck of the
Commonwealth. If Pompeius--on the same terms. I dare not harbour any
illusions. The state cannot endure the farce of another Sullian
restoration and reformation. A permanent government by one strong man
will be the only one practicable to save the world from anarchy. Have
you realized that?"

"I only know, Imperator," said Drusus, gloomily, "that no future state
can be worse than ours to-day, when the magistrates of the Republic
are the most grievous despots."

Caesar shook his head.

"You magnify your own wrongs and mine. If mere revenge prompts us, we
are worse than Xerxes, or Sulla. The gods alone can tell us what is
right."

"The gods!" cried Drusus, half sunken though he was in a weary
lethargy, "do you believe there are any gods?"

Caesar threw back his head. "Not always; but at moments I do not
_believe_ in them, I _know_! And now I _know_ that gods are guiding
us!"

"Whither?" exclaimed the young man, starting from his weary
drowsiness.

"I know not whither; neither do I care. Enough to be conscious that
they guide us!"

And then, as though there was no pressing problem involving the peace
of the civilized world weighing upon him, the proconsul stood by in
kind attention while Antiochus and an attendant bathed the wearied
messenger's feet before taking him away to rest.

After Drusus had been carried to his room, Caesar collected the
manuscripts and tablets scattered about the apartment, methodically
placed them in the proper cases and presses, suffered himself to be
undressed, and slept late into the following morning, as sweetly and
soundly as a little child.


II

On the next day Caesar called before him the thirteenth legion,--the
only force he had at Ravenna,--and from a pulpit in front of the
praetorium he told them the story of what had happened at Rome; of how
the Senate had outraged the tribunes of the plebs, whom even the
violent Sulla had respected; of how the mighty oligarchy had outraged
every soldier in insulting their commander. Then Curio, just arrived,
declaimed with indignant fervour of the violence and fury of the
consuls and Pompeius; and when he concluded, the veterans could
restrain their ardour and devotion no more, five thousand martial
throats roared forth an oath of fealty, and as many swords were waved
on high in mad defiance to the Senate and the Magnus. Then cohort
after cohort cried out that on this campaign they would accept no pay;
and the military tribunes and centurions pledged themselves, this
officer for the support of two recruits, and that for three.

It was a great personal triumph for Caesar. He stood receiving the
pledges and plaudits, and repaying each protestation of loyalty with a
few gracious words, or smiles, that were worth fifty talents to each
acclaiming maniple. Drusus, who was standing back of the proconsul,
beside Curio, realized that never before had he seen such outgoing of
magnetism and personal energy from man to man, one mind holding in
vassalage five thousand. Yet it was all very quickly over. Almost
while the plaudits of the centuries were rending the air, Caesar turned
to the senior tribune of the legion.

"Are your men ready for the march, officer?"

The soldier instantly fell into rigid military pose. "Ready this
instant, Imperator. We have expected the order."

"March to Ariminum, and take possession of the town. March rapidly."

The tribune saluted, and stepped back among his cohort. And as if some
conjurer had flourished a wand of magic, in the twinkling of an eye
the first century had formed in marching order; every legionary had
flung over his shoulder his shield and pack, and at the harsh blare of
the military trumpet the whole legion fell into line; the aquilifer
with the bronze eagle, that had tossed on high in a score of
hard-fought fights, swung off at the head of the van; and away went
the legion, a thing not of thinking flesh and blood, but of brass and
iron--a machine that marched as readily and carelessly against the
consuls of the Roman Republic as against the wretched Gallic
insurgents. The body of troops--cohort after cohort--was vanishing
down the road in a cloud of dust, the pack train following after,
almost before Drusus could realize that the order to advance had been
given.

Caesar was still standing on the little pulpit before the praetorium.
Except for Curio and Drusus, almost all the vast company that had but
just now been pressing about him with adulation and homage were
disappearing from sight. For an instant the Imperator seemed alone,
stripped of all the panoply of his high estate. He stood watching the
legion until its dust-cloud settled behind some low-lying hills. Then
he stepped down from the pulpit. Beyond a few menials and Drusus and
that young man's late comrade in danger, no one else was visible. The
transaction had been so sudden as to have something of the
phantasmagoric about it.

Caesar took his two friends, one by each hand, and led them back to his
private study in the praetorium.

"The army is yours, Imperator," said Curio, breaking a rather
oppressive silence. "The newest recruit is yours to the death."

"Yes, to the death," replied the general, abstractedly; and his keen
eyes wandered down upon the mosaic, seemingly penetrating the stone
and seeking something hidden beneath. "The thirteenth legion," he
continued, "will do as a test of the loyalty of the others. They will
not fail me. The eighth and the twelfth will soon be over the Alps.
Fabius is at Narbo with three. They will check Pompeius's Spaniards. I
must send to Trebonius for his four among the Belgae; he is sending
Fabius one." And then, as if wearied by this recapitulation, Caesar's
eyes wandered off again to the pavement.

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When the clock chimed midnight last night bookshops began to sell the Harry Potter phenomenon's latest instalment, a modest collection of fairy stories that is expected to put JK Rowling at the top of the bestsellers list once again this Christmas.

Booksellers sought to mark the publication of The Tales of Beedle the Bard - a set of short stories that featured in the final Harry Potter novel - by arranging events such as children's tea parties and breakfast readings. There was an exclusive party last night in London for 500 hardcore Harry fans. JK Rowling herself will host a tea party for 220 primary school children in Edinburgh this afternoon.

The collection is a reprinting of five fairy stories that Rowling originally hand-wrote and illustrated on vellum as a gift for six close friends associated with the Potter oeuvre. All six versions were hand-bound, their covers inlaid with semi-precious stones. The stories are derived from a magical book used by Harry to finally defeat his adversary Lord Voldemort in the seventh and final book, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, which was the fastest-selling book ever.

Unlike the profits from the novels in the core Harry Potter series, the proceeds from Beedle the Bard are going to an east European children's charity chaired by Rowling, called the Children's High Level Group. Based on a European commission-backed organisation of the same name run by MEP Emma Nicholson to coordinate efforts to rehome 100,000 Romanian children kept in appalling conditions in state institutions, the charity focuses on rebuilding children's services in five east European countries.

The seven Harry Potter novels have sold 400m copies worldwide and spawned five movies along with associated merchandise, helping to build their small publishers, Bloomsbury, into a major force in the book industry. The Deathly Hallows helped Bloomsbury's children's division earn £40m profits last year. Bloomsbury hopes to sell between 7.5m and 8m copies worldwide from the first print run of Beedle the Bard, which is already translated into 27 languages, raising at least £12m for the children's charity.

About 80,000 children, many disabled or from oppressed ethnic minorities such as the Roma, live in state institutions in Romania, Moldova, Georgia, the Czech republic and Armenia, the charity's director, Georgette Mulheir, said yesterday.

Rowling said she hoped the new book would "not only be a welcome present to Harry Potter fans, but an opportunity to give these abandoned children a voice. It will encourage young people across the world to think about those who are less fortunate, and help change many young lives for the better."

The Tales of Beedle the Bard has already raised at least £1.9m for the charity after Amazon won the bidding at a Sotheby's auction for the seventh and last handwritten version of the book last year, donated by Rowling. The major booksellers are now selling the stories for £3.95, after Amazon provoked a discounting war by offering the book as a recession-busting loss leader at half the publisher's recommended price of £6.95.

The official price includes a £1.61 donation from each copy to the Rowling-backed charity, leaving booksellers in the UK effectively using their own profits to contribute a large part of the £12m expected to go to the Children's High Level Group.

Last year's Sotheby's auction has meant Rowling's handwritten versions are valued at £2m.

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