A Friend of Caesar by William Stearns Davis

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Drusus had an uneasy sensation. What was this strange mingling of
energy and listlessness? Why this soliloquy and internal debate, when
the moment called for the most intense activity? The general being
still silent, his friends did not venture to disturb him. But
Antiochus passed in and out of the study, gathering up writing
materials, tablets, and books; and presently Drusus heard the freedman
bidding an underling have ready and packed the marble slabs used for
the tessellated floor of the Imperator's tent--a bit of luxury that
Caesar never denied himself while in the field. Presently the proconsul
raised his eyes. He was smiling; there was not the least cloud on his
brow.

"There will be some public games here this afternoon," he remarked, as
though the sole end in view was to make their stay pleasant to his
guests: "I have promised the good people of the town to act as
_editor_,[152] and must not fail to honour them. Perhaps the sport
will amuse you, although the provincials cannot of course get such
good lanista-trained men as you see at Rome. I have a new fencing
school in which perhaps we may find a few _threces_[153] and
_retiarii_,[154] who will give some tolerable sword and net play."

[152] President of the games.

[153] Buckler and cutlass men.

[154] Net and trident men.

"_Hei!_" groaned Curio, with a lugubrious whisper, "to think of it, I
have never a sesterce left that I can call my own, to stake on the
struggle!"

"At least," laughed Drusus, "I am a companion of your grief; already
Lentulus and Ahenobarbus have been sharing my forfeited estate."

But the proconsul looked serious and sad.

"_Vah_, my friends! Would that I could say that your loyalty to my
cause would cost you nothing! It is easy to promise to win back for
you everything you have abandoned, but as the poets say, 'All that
lies in the lap of the gods.' But you shall not be any longer the mere
recipients of my bounty. Stern work is before us. I need not ask you
if you will play your part. You, Curio, shall have a proper place on
my staff of legates as soon as I have enough troops concentrated; but
you, my dear Drusus, what post would best reward you for your loyalty?
Will you be a military tribune, and succeed your father?"

"Your kindness outruns your judgment, Imperator," replied Drusus.
"Save repelling Dumnorix and Ahenobarbus, I never struck a blow in
anger. Small service would I be to you, and little glory would I win
as an officer, when the meanest legionary knows much that I may
learn."

"Then, amice," said Caesar, smiling, perhaps with the satisfaction of a
man who knows when it is safe to make a gracious offer which he is
aware will not be accepted, though none the less flattering, "if you
will thus misappraise yourself, you shall act as centurion for the
present, on my corps of _praetoriani_,[155] where you will be among
friends and comrades of your father, and be near my person if I have
any special need of you."

[155] General's body-guard of picked veterans.

Drusus proffered the best thanks he could; it was a great honour--one
almost as great as a tribuneship, though hardly as responsible; and he
felt repaid for all the weariness of his desperate ride to Ravenna.

And then, with another of those strange alternations of behaviour,
Caesar led him and Curio off to inspect the fencing-school; then showed
them his favourite horse, pointed out its peculiar toelike hoofs, and
related merrily how when it was a young colt, a soothsayer had
predicted that its owner would be master of the world, and how
he--Caesar,--had broken its fiery spirit, and made it perfectly docile,
although no other man could ride the beast.

The afternoon wore on. Caesar took his friends to the games, and
watched with all apparent interest the rather sanguinary contests
between the gladiators. Drusus noticed the effusive loyalty of the
Ravenna citizens, who shouted a tumultuous welcome to the illustrious
_editor_, but Caesar acted precisely as though the presidency of the
sports were his most important office. Only his young admirer observed
that as often as a gladiator brought his opponent down and appealed to
the _editor_ for a decision on the life or death of the vanquished,
Caesar invariably waved his handkerchief, a sign of mercy, rather than
brutally turned down his thumb, the sentence of death. After the
games, the proconsul interchanged personal greetings with the more
prominent townspeople. Drusus began to wonder whether the whole day
and evening were to pass in this manner; and indeed so it seemed, for
that night the Imperator dispensed his usual open-handed hospitality.
His great banqueting hall contained indeed no army officers, but there
were an abundance of the provincial gentry. Caesar dined apart with his
two friends. The courses went in and out. The proconsul continued an
unceasing flow of light conversation: witty comments on Roman society
and fashion, scraps of literary lore, now and then a bit of personal
reminiscence of Gaul. Drusus forgot all else in the agreeable pleasure
of the moment. Presently Caesar arose and mingled with his less exalted
guests; when he returned to the upper table the attendants were
bringing on the beakers, and the Cisalpine provincials were pledging
one another in draughts of many _cyathi_, "prosperity to the
proconsul, and confusion to his enemies." Caesar took a shallow glass
of embossed blue and white bas-relief work,--a triumph of Alexandrian
art,--poured into it a few drops of undiluted Caecuban liquor, dashed
down the potion, then dropped the priceless beaker on to the floor.

"An offering to Fortuna!" he cried, springing from his couch. "My
friends, let us go!" And quietly leaving the table on the dais, the
three found themselves outside the banqueting hall, while the
provincials, unconscious that their host had departed, continued their
noisy revelry.

Drusus at once saw that everything was ready for departure. Antiochus
was at hand with travelling cloaks, and assured the young man that due
care had been taken to send in advance for him a complete wardrobe and
outfit. The proconsul evidently intended to waste no time in starting.
Drusus realized by the tone of his voice that Caesar the host had
vanished, and Caesar the imperator was present. His words were terse
and to the point.

"Curio, you will find a fast horse awaiting you. Take it. Bide at full
speed after the legion. Take command of the rear cohorts and of the
others as you come up with them. Lead rapidly to Ariminum."

And Curio, who was a man of few words, when few were needed, saluted
and disappeared in the darkness. Drusus followed the general out after
him. But no saddle-horses were prepared for Caesar. Antiochus and one
or two slaves were ready with lanterns, and led the general and Drusus
out of the gloomy cantonment, along a short stretch of road, to a mill
building, where in the dim light of the last flickers of day could be
seen a carriage with mules.

"I have hired this as you wished," said the freedman, briefly.

"It is well," responded his patron.

Antiochus clambered upon the front seat; a stout German serving-man
was at the reins. Caesar motioned to Drusus to sit beside him behind.
There were a few necessaries in the carriage, but no other attendants,
no luggage cart. The German shook the reins over the backs of the two
mules, and admonished them in his barbarous native dialect. The dim
shadow of the mill faded from sight; the lights of the praetorium grew
dimmer and dimmer: soon nothing was to be seen outside the narrow
circle of pale light shed on the ground ahead by the lantern.

The autumn season was well advanced. The day however had been warm.
The night was sultry. There were no stars above, no moon, no wind. A
sickening miasmic odour rose from the low flat country sloping off
toward the Adriatic--the smell of overripe fruit, of decaying
vegetation, of the harvest grown old. There had been a drought, and
now the dust rose thick and heavy, making the mules and travellers
cough, and the latter cover their faces. Out of the darkness came not
the least sound: save the creaking of the dead boughs on trees, whose
dim tracery could just be distinguished against the sombre background
of the sky.

No one spoke, unless the incoherent shouts of the German to the mules
be termed speech. Antiochus and Caesar were sunk in stupor or reverie.
Drusus settled back on the cushions, closed his eyes, and bade himself
believe that it was all a dream. Six months ago he had been a student
at Athens, wandering with his friends along the trickling Cephissus,
or climbing, in holiday sport, the marble cone of Hymettus. And
now--he was a proscribed rebel! Enemies thirsted for his blood! He was
riding beside a man who made no disclaimer of his intention to subvert
the constitution! If Caesar failed, he, Drusus, would share in "that
bad eminence" awarded by fame to the execrated Catilinarians. Was
it--was it not all a dream? Connected thought became impossible. Now
he was in the dear old orchard at Praeneste playing _micare_[156] with
Cornelia and AEmilia; now back in Athens, now in Rome. Poetry, prose,
scraps of oratory, philosophy, and rules of rhetoric,--Latin and Greek
inextricably intermixed,--ideas without the least possible connection,
raced through his head. How long he thus drifted on in his reverie he
might not say. Perhaps he fell asleep, for the fatigue of his
extraordinary riding still wore on him. A cry from Antiochus, a curse
from the German, startled him out of his stupor. He stared about. It
was pitch dark. "The gods blast it!" Antiochus was bawling. "The
lantern has jolted out!"

[156] A finger-guessing game.

To relight it under existing circumstances, in an age when friction
matches were unknown, was practically impossible.

"Fellow," said the proconsul's steady voice, "do you know the road to
Ariminum?"

The driver answered in his broken Latin that he was the slave of the
stable keeper who had let the carriage, and had been often over the
road, but to go safely in the dark was more than he could vouch for.
The only thing the German saw to be done was to wait in the road until
the morning, or until the moon broke out through the clouds.

"Drusus," remarked the proconsul, "you are the youngest. Can your eyes
make out anything to tell us where we are?"

The young man yawned, shook off his drowsiness, and stared out into
the gloomy void.

"I can just make out that to our left are tall trees, and I imagine a
thicket."

"Very good. If you can see as much as that here, it is safe to
proceed. Let us change places. I will take the reins. Do you, Drusus,
come and direct me."

"Oh! domine!" entreated Antiochus, "don't imperil yourself to-night!
I'm sure some calamity impends before dawn. I consulted a soothsayer
before setting out, and the dove which he examined had no heart--a
certain sign of evil."

"Rascal!" retorted his patron, "the omens will be more favourable when
I please. A beast wants a heart--no very great prodigy! men lose
theirs very often, and think it slight disgrace. Change your seat,
sirrah!"

Caesar took the reins, smote the mules, and went off at so furious a
pace that the worthy Antiochus was soon busy invoking first one, then
another, member of the pantheon, to avert disaster. Drusus speedily
found that the general's vision was far more keen than his own.
Indeed, although the road, he knew, was rough and crooked, they met
with no mishaps. Presently a light could be seen twinkling in the
distance.

"We must get a guide," remarked the Imperator decisively, and he
struck the mules again.

They at last approached what the owl-like discernment of Caesar
pronounced to be a small farmhouse with a few out-buildings. But it
was no easy matter to arouse the drowsy countrymen, and a still more
difficult task to convince the good man of the house that his
nocturnal visitors were not brigands. At last it was explained that
two gentlemen from Ravenna were bound for Ariminum, on urgent
business, and he must furnish a guide for which he would be amply
paid. As a result, the German driver at last resumed the reins, and
sped away with a fresh lantern, and at his side a stupid peasant boy,
who was almost too shy to make himself useful.

But more misfortune was in store. Barely a mile had they traversed,
before an ominous crack proclaimed the splitting of an axletree. The
cheap hired vehicle could go no farther.

"'Tis a sure sign the gods are against our proceeding this night,"
expostulated Antiochus; "let us walk back to the farmhouse, my lord."

Caesar did not deign to give him an answer. He deliberately descended,
clasped his paenula over his shoulders, and bade the German make the
best of his way back to Ravenna. The peasant boy, he declared, could
lead them on foot until dawn.

The freedman groaned, but he was helpless. The guide, bearing the
lantern, convoyed them out of the highroad, to strike what he assured
them was a less circuitous route; and soon had his travellers, now
plunged in quagmires that in daylight would have seemed impassable,
now clambering over stocks and stones, now leaping broad ditches. At
last, after thoroughly exhausting the patience of his companions, the
wretched fellow confessed that he had missed the by-path, and indeed
did not know the way back.

Antiochus was now too frightened to declare his warnings confirmed.
Drusus liked the prospect of a halt on these swampy, miasmic fields
little enough, But again the proconsul was all resources. With almost
omniscience he led his companions through blind mazes of fallow land
and stubble fields: came upon a brook at the only point where there
appeared to be any stepping-stones; and at length, just as the murky
clouds seemed about to lift, and the first beams of the moon struggled
out into the black chaos, the wanderers saw a multitude of fires
twinkling before them, and knew that they had come upon the rear
cohort of the thirteenth legion, on its way to Ariminum.

The challenge of the sentry was met by a quick return of the
watchword, but the effusively loyal soldier was bidden to hold his
peace and not disturb his comrades.

"What time is it?" inquired his general. The fellow replied it lacked
one hour of morn. Caesar skirted the sleeping camp, and soon came out
again on the highroad. There was a faint paleness in the east; a
single lark sang from out the mist of grey ether overhead; an ox of
the baggage train rattled his tethering chain and bellowed. A soft,
damp river fog touched on Drusus's face. Suddenly an early horseman,
coming at a moderate gallop, was heard down the road. In the
stillness, the pounding of his steed crept slowly nearer and nearer;
then, as he was almost on them, came the hollow clatter of the hoofs
upon the planks of a bridge. _Caesar stopped._ Drusus felt himself
clutched by the arm so tightly that the grasp almost meant pain.

"Do you hear? Do you see?" muttered the Imperator's voice in his ear.
"The bridge, the river--we have reached it!"

"Your excellency--" began Drusus, sorely at a loss.

"No compliments, this is the Rubicon; the boundaries of Cisalpine Gaul
and Italy. On this side I am still the Proconsul--not as yet rightly
deposed. On the other--Caesar, the Outlaw, the Insurgent, the Enemy of
his Country, whose hand is against every man, every man's hand against
him. What say you? Speak! speak quickly! Shall I cross? Shall I turn
back?"

"Imperator," said the young man, struggling to collect his wits and
realize the gravity of his own words, "if you did not intend to cross,
why send the legion over to commence the invasion? Why harangue them,
if you had no test to place upon their loyalty?"

"Because," was his answer, "I would not through my own indecision
throw away my chance to strike. But the troops can be recalled. It is
not too late. No blood has been shed. I am merely in a position to
strike if so I decide. No,--nothing is settled."

Drusus had never felt greater embarrassment. Before he could make
reply, Caesar had bidden Antiochus and the peasant boy remain in the
roadway, and had led the young man down the embankment that ran
sloping toward the river. The light was growing stronger every moment,
though the mist still hung heavy and dank. Below their feet the
slender stream--it was the end of the season--ran with a monotonous
gurgle, now and then casting up a little fleck of foam, as it rolled
by a small boulder in its bed.

"Imperator," said Drusus, while Caesar pressed his hand tighter and
tighter, "why advise with an inexperienced young man like myself? Why
did you send Curio away? I have no wisdom to offer; nor dare proffer
it, if such I had."

"Quintus Drusus," replied Caesar, sinking rather wearily down upon the
dry, dying grass, "if I had needed the counsel of a soldier, I should
have waited until Marcus Antonius arrived; if I had needed that of a
politician, I was a fool to send away Curio; if I desire the counsel
of one who is, as yet, neither a man of the camp, nor a man of the
Forum, but who can see things with clear eyes, can tell what may be
neither glorious nor expedient, but what will be the will,"--and here
the Imperator hesitated,--"the will of the gods, tell me to whom I
shall go."

Drusus was silent; the other continued;--

"Listen, Quintus Drusus. I do not believe in blind fate. We were not
given wills only to have them broken. The function of a limb is not to
be maimed, nor severed from the body. A limb is to serve a man; just
so a man and his actions are to serve the ends of a power higher and
nobler than he. If he refuse to serve that power, he is like the
mortifying limb,--a thing of evil to be cut off. And this is true of
all of us; we all have some end to serve, we are not created for no
purpose." Caesar paused. When he began again it was in a different tone
of voice. "I have brought you with me, because I know you are
intelligent, are humane, love your country, and can make sacrifices
for her; because you are my friend and to a certain extent share my
destiny; because you are too young to have become overprejudiced, and
calloused to pet foibles and transgressions. Therefore I took you with
me, having put off the final decision to the last possible instant.
And now I desire your counsel."

"How can I counsel peace!" replied Drusus, warming to a sense of the
situation. "Is not Italy in the hand of tyrants? Is not Pompeius the
tool of coarse schemers? Do they not pray for proscriptions and
confiscations and abolition of debt? Will there be any peace, any
happiness in life, so long as we call ourselves freemen, yet endure
the chains of a despotism worse than that of the Parthians?"

"Ah! amice!" said Caesar, twisting the long limp grass, "every enemy is
a tyrant, if he has the upper hand. Consider, what will the war be?
Blood, the blood of the noblest Romans! The overturning of
time-honoured institutions! A shock that will make the world to
tremble, kings be laid low, cities annihilated! East, west, north,
south--all involved--so great has our Roman world become!"

"And are there not wrongs, abuses, Imperator, which cry for vengeance
and for righting?" replied Drusus, vehemently. "Since the fall of
Carthage, have not the fears of Scipio AEmilianus almost come true:
Troy has fallen, Carthage has fallen; has not Rome almost fallen,
fallen not by the might of her enemies, but by the decay of her
morals, the degeneracy of her statesmen? What is the name of liberty,
without the semblance! Is it liberty for a few mighty families to
enrich themselves, while the Republic groans? Is it liberty for the
law courts to have their price, for the provinces to be the farms of a
handful of nobles?"

Caesar shook his head.

"You do not know what you say. This is no moment for declamation.
Every man has his own life to live, his own death to die. Our
intellects cannot assure us of any consciousness the instant that
breath has left our bodies. It is then as if we had never hoped, had
never feared; it is rest, peace. Quintus Drusus, I have dared many
things in my life. I defied Sulla; it was boyish impetuosity. I took
the unpopular and perilous side when Catilina's confederates were sent
to their deaths; it was the ardour of a young politician. I defied the
rage of the Senate, while I was praetor; still more hot madness. I
faced death a thousand times in Gaul, against the Nervii, in the
campaign with Vercingetorix; all this was the mere courage of the
common soldier. But it is not of death I am afraid; be it death on the
field of battle, or death at the hands of the executioner, should I
fall into the power of my enemies, I fear myself.

"You ask me to explain?" went on the general, without pausing for a
question. "Hearken! I am a man, you are a man, our enemies are men. I
have slain a hundred thousand men in Gaul. Cruel? No, for had they
lived the great designs which the deity wills to accomplish in that
country could not be executed! But then my mind was at rest. I said,
'Let these men die,' and no Nemesis has required their blood at my
hands. What profit these considerations? The Republic is nothing but a
name, without substance or reality. It is doomed to fall. Sulla was a
fool to abdicate the dictatorship. Why did he not establish a
despotism, and save us all this turmoil of politics? But Lentulus
Crus, Pompeius, Cato, Scipio--they are men with as much ambition, as
much love of life, as myself. The Republic will fall into their hands.
Why will it be worse off than in mine? Why shed rivers of blood? After
death one knows no regrets. If I were dead, what would it matter to me
if obloquy was imputed to my name, if my enemies triumphed, if the
world went to chaos over my grave. It would not mean so much as a
single evil dream in my perpetual slumber."

Caesar was no longer resting on the bank. He was pacing to and fro,
with rapid, nervous steps, crushing the dry twigs under his shoes,
pressing his hands together behind his back, knitting and unknitting
his fingers.

Drusus knew enough to be aware that he was present as a spectator of
that most terrible of all conflicts--a strong man's wrestle with his
own misgivings. To say something, to say anything, that would ease the
shock of the contest--that was the young man's compelling desire; but
he felt as helpless as though he, single handed, confronted ten
legions.

"But your friends, Imperator," he faltered, "think of them! They have
made sacrifices for you. They trust in you. Do not abandon them to
their enemies!"

Caesar stopped in his impetuous pacings.

"Look here," he exclaimed, almost fiercely, "you wish to be happy. You
are still very young; life is sweet. You have just forsaken wealth,
friends, love, because you have a fantastic attachment for my cause.
You will live to repent of your boyish decision. You will wish to win
back all you have lost. Well, I will give you the chance; do what I
tell you, and you shall ride into Rome the hero of Senate and people!
The consuls will be to you all smiles. Pompeius will canvass for you
if you desire to become a candidate for curule office before you reach
the legal age limit. Cicero will extol your name in an immortal
oration, in which he will laud your deed above the slaying of the
dangerous demagogue Maelius by Servilius Ahala. Will you do as I shall
bid you?"

Drusus's eyes had been riveted on those of the general. He saw that at
Caesar's side was girded a long slender dagger in an embossed silver
sheath. He saw the Imperator draw out the blade halfway, then point
off into the river where the water ran sluggishly through a single
deep mist-shaded pool.

"Do you understand?" went on Caesar, as calmly as though he had been
expounding a problem of metaphysics. "You can take this ring of mine,
and by its aid go through the whole legion, and obtain the best horses
for flight, before anything is discovered. Your conscience need not
trouble you. You will only have done as I earnestly requested."

The cold sweat started to Drusus's forehead, his head swam; he knew
that it was more than the mist of the river-fog that drifted before
his eyes. Then, filled with a sudden impulse, he sprang on the general
and wrenched the dagger from its sheath.

"Here!" cried Caesar, tearing back the mantle from his breast.

"There!" cried Drusus, and the bright blade glinted once in the air,
and splashed down into the dark ripple. He caught the Imperator about
the arms, and flung his head on the other's neck.

"Oh! Imperator," he cried, "do not desert us. Do not desert the
Commonwealth! Do not hand us back to new ruin, new tyrants, new wars!
Strike, strike, and so be merciful! Surely the gods have not led you
thus far, and no farther! But yesterday you said they were leading us.
To-day they still must guide! To you it has been given to pull down
and to build up. Fail not! If there be gods, trust in them! If there
be none slay me first, then do whatever you will!"

Caesar shook himself. His voice was harsh with command.

"Unhand me! I must accomplish my own fate!" and then, in a totally
different tone, "Quintus Drusus, I have been a coward for the first
time in my life. Are you ashamed of your general?"

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