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A Friend of Caesar by William Stearns Davis

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Cornelia was almost angry with Artemisia for being thus oblivious to
and shielded from calamity. So hot in fact did her indignation become
against the innocent girl, that Cornelia herself began to smile at her
own passion. And there was one thought very comforting to her pride.

"Artemisia is only an uneducated slave, or little better than a slave;
if she were in my station she would be just as unhappy. I am wretched
just in proportion to the greatness of my rank;" then she added to
herself, "_Hei!_ but how wretched then the gods must be!" And then
again she smiled at admitting for an instant that there were any gods
at all; had not her philosophy taught her much better?

So at last Cornelia turned over the pillows for the last time, and
finally slept, in heavy, dreamless slumber.

* * * * *

Cornelia did not know at what watch of the night she awoke; awoke, not
suddenly, but slowly, as consciousness stole over her that _something_
was happening. It was a dark, cloudy night, yet a strange red light
was glinting faintly through the windows and making very dim panels on
the rugs of the floor. There was a bare gleam of fire from the
charcoal in the portable metal stove that stood in a remote corner of
the room to dispel the chill of night. Artemisia was stirring in her
sleep, and saying something--probably in a one-sided dream-dialogue.
Cornelia opened her eyes, shut them again; peeped forth a second time,
and sat up in bed. There was a confused din without, many voices
speaking at once, all quite unintelligible, though now and then she
caught a few syllables of Greek. The din grew louder and louder. At
the same time, as if directly connected with the babel, the strange
light flamed up more brightly--as if from many advancing torches.
Cornelia shook the sleep from her eyes, and flung back the coverlets.
What was it? She had not yet reached the stage of feeling any terror.

Suddenly, drowning all lesser noise, came the blows of a heavy timber
beating on the main door of the villa.

Crash! and with the stroke, a torrent of wild shouts, oaths, and
imprecations burst forth from many score throats.

Crash! The slaves sleeping near the front door began to howl and
shout. The great Molossian hound that stood watch was barking and
snapping. The Gallic maid sprang from her pallet by Cornelia's door,
and gave a shrill, piercing scream. Artemisia was sitting up on her
bed, rubbing her eyes, blinking at the strange light, and about to
begin to cry. Cornelia ran over the floor to her.

"_A! A!_ what is going to happen!" whimpered the girl.

"I do not know, _philotata_"[164] said Cornelia in Greek, putting her
hand on Artemisia's cheek; "but don't cry, and I'll soon find out."

[164] Dearest one.

Crash! and at this the door could be heard to fall inward. Then, with
yells of triumph and passion, there was a great sweep of feet over the
threshold, and the clang of weapons and armour. Cornelia found herself
beginning to tremble. As she stepped across the room, she passed
before her largest mirror, whereon the outside light was shining
directly. She saw herself for an instant; her hair streaming down her
back, her only dress her loose white tunic, her arms bare, and nothing
on her throat except a string of yellow amber beads. "And my feet are
bare," she added to herself, diverted from her panic by her womanly
embarrassment. She advanced toward the door, but had not long to wait.
Down below the invaders had burst loose in wild pillage, then up into
the sleeping room came flying a man--Phaon, his teeth chattering, his
face ghastly with fright.

"Domina! domina!" and he knelt and seized Cornelia's robe. "Save, _A!_
save! We are undone! Pirates! They will kill us all! _Mu! mu!_ don't
let them murder me!"

A moment longer and Cornelia, in her rising contempt, would have
spurned him with her foot. There were more feet on the stairway.
Glaring torches were tossing over gold inlaid armour. A man of unusual
height and physique strode at the head of the oncomers, clutching and
dragging by the wrist a quivering slave-boy.

"Your mistress, boy! where is she? Point quickly, if you would not
die!" cried the invader, whom we shall at once recognize as Demetrius.

Cornelia advanced to the doorway, and stood in her maidenly dignity,
confronting the pirates, who fell back a step, as though before an
apparition.

"I am the Lady Cornelia, mistress of the villa," she said slowly,
speaking in tones of high command. "On what errand do you come thus
unseasonably, and with violence?"

Whereat, out from the little group of armed men sprang one clad in
costly, jewel-set armour, like the rest, but shorter than the others,
and with fair hair flowing down from his helmet on to his shoulders.

"Domina, do you not know me? Do not be afraid."

"Agias!" cried Cornelia, in turn giving back a step.

"Assuredly," quoth the young Hellene, nothing dismayed; "and with your
leave, this great man is Demetrius, my cousin, whose trade, perchance,
is a little irregular, but who has come hither not so much to plunder
as to save you from the clutches of his arch-enemy's son, Lucius
Ahenobarbus."

Cornelia staggered, and caught the curtain in the doorway to keep from
falling.

"Has Master Drusus sent him to me?" she asked, very pale around the
lips.

"Master Drusus is at Corfinium. No one knows what will be the issue of
the war, for Pompeius is making off. It is I who counselled my cousin
to come to Baiae."

"Then what will you do with me? How may I dare to trust you? Deliver
myself into the hands of pirates! Ah! Agias, I did not think that
_you_ would turn to such a trade!"

The youth flushed visibly, even under the ruddy torchlight.

"Oh, lady," he cried, "have I not always been true to you? I am no
pirate, and you will not blame my cousin, when you have heard his
story. But do not fear us. Come down to the ship--Fabia is there,
waiting for you."

"Fabia!" and again Cornelia was startled. Then, fixing her deep gaze
full on Agias, "I believe you speak the truth. If not you--whom?
Take--take me!"

And she fell forward in a swoon, and Demetrius caught her in his
powerful arms.

"This is the affianced wife of Quintus Drusus?" he cried to Agias.

"None other."

"She is worthy of Sextus's son. A right brave lady!" cried the pirate.
"But this is no place for her, poor thing. Here, Eurybiades," and he
addressed a lieutenant,--an athletic, handsome Hellene like
himself,--"carry the lady down to the landing, put her on the trireme,
and give her to Madam Fabia. Mind you lift her gently."

"Never fear," replied the other, picking up his burden carefully. "Who
would not delight to bear Aphrodite to the arms of Artemis!"

And so for a while sight, sound, and feeling were at an end for
Cornelia, but for Agias the adventures of the evening were but just
begun. The pirates had broken loose in the villa, and Demetrius made
not the slightest effort to restrain them. On into the deserted
bedroom, ahead of the others, for reasons of his own, rushed Agias. As
he came in, some one cried out his name, and a second vision in white
confronted him.

"_Ai! ai!_ Agias, I knew you would come!" and then and there, with the
sword-blades glinting, and the armed men all around, Artemisia tossed
her plump arms around his neck.

"The nymph, attendant on Aphrodite!" cried Demetrius, laughing. And
then, when Artemisia saw the strange throng and the torches, and heard
the din over the villa, she hung down her head in mingled fear and
mortification. But Agias whispered something in her ear, that made her
lift her face, laughing, and then he in turn caught her up in his arms
to hasten down to the landing--for the scene was becoming one of
little profit for a maid. Groans and entreaties checked him. Two
powerful Phoenician seamen were dragging forward Phaon, half clothed,
trembling at every joint. "Mercy! Mercy! Oh! Master Agias, oh! Your
excellency, _clarissime_,[165] _despotes!_[166]" whined the wretched
man, now in Latin, now in Greek, "ask them to spare me; don't let them
murder me in cold blood!"

[165] Very distinguished sir.

[166] Master.

"_Ai!_" cried Demetrius. "What fool have we here? Do you know him,
Agias?"

"He is the freedman of Lucius Ahenobarbus. I can vouch for his
character, after its way."

"_O-op!_"[167] thundered the chief, "drag him down to the boats! I'll
speak with him later!"

[167] _O-op_--avast there.

And Agias carried his precious burden down to the landing-place, while
the seamen followed with their captive.

Once Artemisia safe on her way to the trireme, which was a little off
shore, Agias ran back to the villa; the pirates were ransacking it
thoroughly. Everything that could be of the slightest value was
ruthlessly seized upon, everything else recklessly destroyed. The
pirates had not confined their attack to the Lentulan residence alone.
Rushing down upon the no less elaborate neighbouring villas, they
forced in the gates, overcame what slight opposition the trembling
slaves might make, and gave full sway to their passion for plunder and
rapine. The noble ladies and fine gentlemen who had dared the
political situation and lingered late in the season to enjoy the
pleasures of Baiae, now found themselves roughly dragged away into
captivity to enrich the freebooters by their ransoms. From pillage the
pirates turned to arson, Demetrius in fact making no effort to control
his men. First a fragile wooden summer-house caught the blaze of a
torch and flared up; then a villa itself, and another and another. The
flames shot higher and higher, great glowing, wavering pyramids of
heat, roaring and crackling, flinging a red circle of glowing light in
toward the mainland by Cumae, and shimmering out over the bay toward
Prochyta. Overhead was the inky dome of the heavens, and below fire;
fire, and men with passions unreined.

Demetrius stood on the terrace of the burning villa of the Lentuli,
barely himself out of range of the raging heat. As Agias came near to
him, the gilded Medusa head emblazoned on his breastplate glared out;
the loose scarlet mantle he wore under his armour was red as if dipped
in hot blood; he seemed the personification of Ares, the destroyer,
the waster of cities. The pirate was gazing fixedly on the blazing
wreck and ruin. His firm lips were set with an expression grave and
hard. He took no part in the annihilating frenzy of his men.

"This is terrible destruction!" cried Agias in his ear, for the roar
of the flames was deafening, he himself beginning to turn sick at the
sight of the ruin.

"It is frightful," replied Demetrius, gloomily; "why did the gods ever
drive me to this? My men are but children to exult as they do; as boys
love to tear the thatch from the roof of a useless hovel, in sheer
wantonness. I cannot restrain them."

At this instant a seaman rushed up in breathless haste.

"_Eleleu!_ Captain, the soldiers are on us. There must have been a
cohort in Cumae."

Whereat the voice of Demetrius rang above the shouts of the plunderers
and the crash and roar of the conflagration, like a trumpet:--

"Arms, men! Gather the spoil and back to the ships! Back for your
lives!"

Already the cohort of Pompeian troops, that had not yet evacuated
Cumae, was coming up on the double-quick, easily guided by the burning
buildings which made the vicinity bright as day. The pirates ran like
cats out of the blazing villas, bounded over terraces and walls, and
gathered near the landing-place by the Lentulan villa. The soldiers
were already on them. For a moment it seemed as though the cohort was
about to drive the whole swarm of the marauders over the sea-wall, and
make them pay dear for their night's diversion. But the masterly
energy of Demetrius turned the scale. With barely a score of men
behind him, he charged the nearest century so impetuously that it
broke like water before him; and when sheer numbers had swept his
little group back, the other pirates had rallied on the very brink of
tie sea-wall, and returned to the charge.

Never was battle waged more desperately. The pirates knew that to be
driven back meant to fall over a high embankment into water so shallow
as to give little safety in a dive; capture implied crucifixion. Their
only hope was to hold their own while their boats took them off to the
ships in small detachments. The conflagration made the narrow
battle-field as bright as day. The soldiers were brave, and for new
recruits moderately disciplined. The pirates could hardly bear up
under the crushing discharge of darts, and the steady onset of the
maniples. Up and down the contest raged, swaying to and fro like the
waves of the sea. Again and again the pirates were driven so near to
the brink of the seawall that one or two would fall, dashed to instant
death on the submerged rocks below. Demetrius was everywhere at once,
as it were, precisely when he was most needed, always exposing
himself, always aggressive. Even while he himself fought for dear
life, Agias admired as never before the intelligently ordered
puissance of his cousin.

The boats to and from the landing were pulled with frantic energy. The
ships had run in as close as possible, but they could not use their
_balistae_,[168] for fear of striking down friend as well as foe. As
relays of pirates were carried away, the position of the remainder
became the more desperate with their lessening numbers. The boats came
back for the last relay. Demetrius drew the remnant of his men
together, and charged so furiously that the whole cohort gave way,
leaving the ground strewn with its own slain. The pirates rushed madly
aboard the boats, they sunk them to the gunwales; other fugitives
clung to the oars. At perilous risk of upsetting they thrust off, just
as the rallied soldiers ran down to the landing-place. Demetrius and
Agias were the only ones standing on the embankment. They had been the
last to retire, and therefore the boats had filled without them.

[168] Missile-throwing engines.

A great cry went up from the pirates.

"Save the captain!" and some boats began to back water, loaded as
they were; but Demetrius motioned them back with his hand.

"Can you swim, boy!" he shouted to Agias, while both tore off their
body-armour. Their shields had already dropped. Agias shook his head
doubtfully.

"My arm is hurt," he muttered.

"No matter!" and Demetrius seized his cousin under one armpit, and
stepped down from the little landing-platform into the water just
below. A single powerful stroke sent the two out of reach of the swing
of the sword of the nearest soldier. The front files of the cohort had
pressed down on to the landing in a dense mass, loath to let go its
prey.

"Let fly, men!" cried Demetrius, as he swam, and javelins spat into
the water about him.

It was a cruel thing to do. The three pirate vessels, two large
triremes and the yacht, discharged all their enginery. Heavy stones
crashed down upon the soldiers, crushing several men together. Huge
arrows tore through shield and armour, impaling more than one body. It
was impossible to miss working havoc in so close a throng. The troops,
impotent to make effective reply, turned in panic and fled toward the
upper terraces to get beyond the decimating artillery. The pirates
raised a great shout of triumph that shook the smoke-veiled skies. A
fresh boat, pulling out from one of the vessels, rescued the captain
and Agias; and soon the two cousins were safe on board the trireme
Demetrius used as his flagship.

The pirates swarmed on the decks and rigging and cheered the escape of
their commander. On shore the burning buildings were still sending up
their pillars of flame. The water and sky far out to sea were red, and
beyond, blackness. Again the pirates shouted, then at the order of
their commander the cables creaked, the anchors rose, hundreds of long
oars flashed in the lurid glare, and the three vessels slipped over
the dark waves.

Demetrius remained on the poop of his ship; Agias was below in the
cabin, bending over Artemisia, who was already smiling in her sleep.


III

When Cornelia awoke, it was with Fabia bending over her at the
bedside. The portholes of the cabin were open; the warm, fresh
southern wind was pouring in its balmy sweetness. Cornelia pressed her
hands to her eyes, then looked forth. The cabin ceiling was low, but
studded with rare ornamental bronze work; the furniture glittered with
gilding and the smooth sheen of polished ivory; the tapestry of the
curtains and on the walls was of the choicest scarlet wool, and Coan
silk, semi-transparent and striped with gold. Gold plating shone on
the section of the mast enclosed within the cabin. An odour of the
rarest Arabian frankincense was wafted from the pastils burning on a
curiously wrought tripod of Corinthian brass. The upholsteries and
rugs were more splendid than any that Cornelia had seen gracing the
palace of Roman patrician.

Thus it came to pass that Fabia repeated over and over again to
Cornelia the tale of recent happenings, until the latter's sorely
perturbed brain might comprehend. And then, when Cornelia understood
it all: how that she was not to go to Greece with Phaon; how that she
was under the protection of a man who owed his life to Sextus Drusus,
and hated the Ahenobarbi with a perfect hatred; how that Demetrius had
sworn to carry her to Alexandria, where, safe out of the way of war
and commotion, she might await the hour when Drusus should be free to
come for her--when, we repeat, she understood all this, and how it
came to pass that the Vestal herself was on the vessel,--then Cornelia
strained Fabia to her breast, and laid her head on the elder woman's
shoulder, and cried and cried for very relief of soul. Then she arose
and let the maids Demetrius had sent to serve her--dark-skinned
Hindoos, whose words were few, but whose fingers quick and dexterous
--dress her from the very complete wardrobe that the sea prince had
placed at her disposal.

Never before had the sunlight shone so fair; never before had the
sniff of the sea-breeze been so sweet. The galleys were still in the
bay, close by Prochyta, scarce a mile and a half from the nearest
mainland. The pirates were landing to procure water from the desolate,
unsettled isle. The bay was dancing and sparkling with ten million
golden ripples; the sun had risen high enough above the green hills of
the coast-land to spread a broad pathway of shimmering fire across the
waters. Not a cloud flecked the light-bathed azure. Up from the
forward part of the ships sounded the notes of tinkling cithera and
the low-breathing double flutes[169] in softest Lydian mood. In and
out of the cabin passed bronzed-faced Ethiopian mutes with silver cups
of the precious Mareotic white wine of Egypt for the lady, and plates
of African pomegranates, Armenian apricots, and strange sweetmeats
flavoured with a marvellous powder, an Oriental product worth its
weight in gold as a medicine, which later generations were to
designate under the name of sugar.

[169] _Tibiae_.

And so Cornelia was refreshed and dressed; and when the maids held the
mirror before her and she saw that the gold trinkets were shining in
her hair, and the jewels which Demetrius had sent her were sparkling
brightly at her throat, and realized that she was very fair to
see,--then she laughed, the first real, unforced laugh for many a
weary day, whereupon she laughed again and again, and grew the more
pleased with her own face when she beheld a smile upon it. Then Fabia
kissed her, and told her that no woman was ever more beautiful; and
the dark Indian maids drew back, saying nothing, but admiring with
their eyes. So Cornelia went up upon the deck, where Demetrius came to
meet her. If she had been a Semiramis rewarding a deserving general,
she could not have been more queenly. For she thanked him and his
lieutenants with a warm gratitude which made every rough seaman feel
himself more than repaid, and yet throughout it all bore herself as
though the mere privilege on their part of rescuing her ought to be
sufficient reward and honour. Then Demetrius knelt down before all his
men, and kissed the hem of her robe, and swore that he would devote
himself and all that was his to her service, until she and Quintus
Drusus should meet, with no foe to come between; so swore all the
pirates after their captain, and thus it was Cornelia entered into her
life on the ship of the freebooters.

Other work, however, was before Demetrius that day, than casting
glances of dutiful admiration at the stately lady that had deigned to
accept his hospitality. Out from the various other cabins, less
luxurious assuredly than the one in which Cornelia had awakened, the
pirates led their several captives to stand before the chief.
Demetrius, indeed, had accomplished what he euphemistically described
as "a fair night's work." Half a dozen once very fashionable and now
very disordered and dejected noble ladies and about as many more sadly
bedraggled fine gentlemen were haled before his tribunal for judgment.
The pirate prince stood on the raised roof of a cabin, a step higher
than the rest of the poop. He was again in his splendid armour, his
naked sword was in his hand, at his side was stationed Eurybiades and
half a score more stalwart seamen, all swinging their bare cutlasses.
Demetrius nevertheless conducted his interrogations with perhaps
superfluous demonstrations of courtesy, and a general distribution of
polite "domini" "dominae," "clarissimi," and "illustres." He spoke in
perfectly good Latin, with only the slightest foreign accent; and
Cornelia, who--unregenerate pagan that she was--was taking thorough
delight in the dilemma of persons whom she knew had made her the butt
of their scandalous gibes, could only admire the skilful manner in
which he brought home to the several captives the necessity of finding
a very large sum of money at their bankers' in a very short time, or
enduring an indefinite captivity. After more or less of surly threats
and resistance on the part of the men, and screaming on the part of
the women, the prisoners one and all capitulated, and put their names
to the papyri they were commanded to sign; and away went a boat
dancing over the waves to Puteoli to cash the money orders, after
which the captives would be set ashore at Baiae.

Last of the wretches brought before Demetrius came Phaon. The freedman
had been roughly handled; across his brow a great welt had risen where
a pirate had struck him with a rope's end. His arms were pinioned
behind his back. He was perfectly pale, and his eyes wandered from one
person to another as if vainly seeking some intercessor.

"_Euge! Kyrios_[170]" cried the pirate chief, "you indeed seem to
enjoy our hospitality but ill."

[170] Your Highness.

Phaon fell on his knees.

"I am a poor man," he began to whimper. "I have no means of paying a
ransom. My patron is not here to protect or rescue me. I have nothing
to plunder. _Mu! mu!_ set me free, most noble pirate! Oh! most
excellent prince, what have I done, that you should bear a grudge
against me?"

"Get up, fellow," snapped Demetrius; "I'm not one of those
crocodile-headed Egyptian gods that they grovel before in the Nile
country. My cousin Agias here says he knows you. Now answer--are you a
Greek?"

"I am an Athenian born."

"Don't you think I can smell your Doric accent by that broad alpha?
You are a Sicilian, I'll be bound!"

Phaon made a motion of sorrowful assent.

"_Phui!_" continued Demetrius, "tell me, Agias, is this the creature
that tried to murder Quintus Drusus?"

Agias nodded.

"A fit minister for such a man as I imagine the son of Lucius Domitius
to be. Eurybiades, take off that fellow's bands; he is not worth one
stroke of the sword."

"The captain will not spare the knave!" remonstrated the sanguinary
lieutenant.

"What I have said, I have said," retorted the other; then, when
Phaon's arms hung free, "See, on the strength of our fellowship in our
both being Greeks, I have set you at large!"

Phaon again sank to his knees to proffer thanks.

"Hold!" cried Demetrius, with a menacing gesture. "Don't waste your
gratitude. Greek you pretend to be, more the shame! Such as you it is
that have brought Hellas under the heel of the oppressor; such as you
have made the word of a Hellene almost valueless in the Roman courts,
so that juries have to be warned to consider us all liars; such as you
have dragged down into the pit many an honest man; ay, myself too!"

Phaon left off his thanks and began again to supplicate.

"Stop whining, hound!" roared Demetrius; "haven't I said you are free?
Free, but on one condition!"

"Anything, anything, my lord," professed the freedman, "money,
service--"

"On this condition," and a broad, wicked smile over-spread the face of
the pirate, "that you quit this ship instantly!"

"Gladly, gladly, merciful sir!" commenced Phaon again; "where is the
boat?"

"Wretch!" shouted the other, "what did I say about a boat?
Depart--depart into the sea! Swim ashore, if the load on your legs be
not too heavy. Seize him and see that he sinks,"--this last to
Eurybiades and the seamen.

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