"I don"t know yet, but Christians always have friends."
"You will let me hear of her."
"Surely, if it is safe."
"And if she needs help you will tell me?"
"Surely, and if you need her help, and it can be done, I will bring her to you."
"Then may I need help soon," he said. "Begone."
CHAPTER XXV
THE REWARD OF SATURIUS
Meanwhile, in one of the palaces of the Caesars not far from the Capitol, was being enacted another and more stormy scene. It was the palace of Domitian, whither, the bewildering pomp of the Triumph finished at last, the prince had withdrawn himself in no happy mood. That day many things had happened to vex him. First and foremost, as had been brought home to his mind from minute to minute throughout the long hours, its glory belonged not to himself, not even to his father, Vespasian, but to his brother, the conqueror of the Jews. t.i.tus he had always hated, t.i.tus, who was as beloved of mankind for his virtues, such as virtues were in that age, as he, Domitian, was execrated for his vices. Now t.i.tus had returned after a brilliant and successful campaign to be crowned as Caesar, to be accepted as the sharer of his father"s government, and to receive the ovations of the populace, while his brother Domitian must ride almost unnoted behind his chariot. The plaudits of the roaring mob, the congratulations of the Senate, the homage of the knights and subject princes, the offerings of foreign kings, all laid at the feet of t.i.tus, filled him with a jealousy that went nigh to madness. Soothsayers had told him, it was true, that his hour would come, that he would live and reign after Vespasian and t.i.tus had gone down, both of them, to Hades.
But even if they spoke the truth this hour seemed a long way off.
Also there were other things. At the great sacrifice before the temple of Jupiter, his place had been set too far back where the people could not see him; at the feast which followed the master of the ceremonies had neglected, or had forgotten, to pour a libation in his honour.
Further, the beautiful captive, Pearl-Maiden, had appeared in the procession unadorned by the costly girdle which he had sent her; while, last of all, the different wines that he had drunk had disagreed with him, so that because of them, or of the heat of the sun, he suffered from the headache and sickness to which he was liable. Pleading this indisposition as an excuse, Domitian left the banquet very early, and attended by his slaves and musicians retired to his own palace.
Here his spirits revived somewhat, since he knew that before long his chamberlain, Saturius, would appear with the lovely Jewish maiden upon whom he had set his fancy. This at least was certain, for he had arranged that the auction should be held that evening and instructed him to buy her at all costs, even for a thousand sestertia. Indeed, who would dare to bid for a slave that the Prince Domitian desired?
Learning that Saturius had not yet arrived, he went to his private chambers, and to pa.s.s away the time commanded his most beautiful slaves to dance before him, where he inflamed himself by drinking more wine of a vintage that he loved. As the fumes of the strong liquor mounted to his brain the pains in his head ceased, at any rate for a while. Very soon he became half-drunk, and as was his nature when in drink, savage.
One of the dancing slaves stumbled and growing nervous stepped out of time, whereon he ordered the poor half-naked girl to be scourged before him by the hands of her own companions. Happily for her, however, before the punishment began a slave arrived with the intelligence that Saturius waited without.
"What, alone?" said the prince, springing to his feet.
"Nay, lord," said the slave, "there is a woman with him."
At this news instantly his ill-temper was forgotten.
"Let that girl go," he said, "and bid her be more careful another time.
Away, all the lot of you, I wish to be private. Now, slave, bid the worthy Saturius enter with his charge."
Presently the curtains were drawn apart and through them came Saturius rubbing his hands and smiling somewhat nervously, followed by a woman wrapped in a long cloak and veiled. He began to offer the customary salutations, but Domitian cut him short.
"Rise, man," he said. "That sort of thing is very well in public, but I don"t want it here. So you have got her," he added, eyeing the draped form in the background.
"Yes," replied Saturius doubtfully.
"Good, your services shall be remembered. You were ever a discreet and faithful agent. Did the bidding run high?"
"Oh! my lord, enormous, ee--normous. I never heard such bidding," and he stretched out his hands.
"Impertinence! Who dared to compete with me?" remarked Domitian. "Well, what did you have to give?"
"Fifty sestertia, my lord."
"Fifty sestertia?" answered Domitian with an air of relief. "Well, of course it is enough, but I have known beautiful maidens fetch more. By the way, dear one," he went on, addressing the veiled woman, "you must, I fear, be tired after all that weary, foolish show."
The "dear one" making no audible reply, Domitian went on:
"Modesty is pleasing in a maid, but now I pray you, forget it for awhile. Unveil yourself, most beautiful, that I may behold that loveliness for which my heart has ached these many days. Nay, that task shall be my own," and he advanced somewhat unsteadily towards his prize.
Saturius thought that he saw his chance. Domitian was so intoxicated that it would be useless to attempt to explain matters that night.
Clearly he should retire as soon as possible.
"Most n.o.ble prince and patron," he began, "my duty is done, with your leave I will withdraw."
"By no means, by no means," hiccupped Domitian, "I know that you are an excellent judge of beauty, most discriminating Saturius, and I should like to talk over the points of this lady with you. You know, dear Saturius, that I am not selfish, and to tell the truth, which you won"t mind between friends--who could be jealous of a wizened, last year"s walnut of a man like you? Not I, Saturius, not I, whom everybody acknowledges to be the most beautiful person in Rome, much better looking than t.i.tus is, although he does call himself Caesar. Now for it.
Where"s the fastening? Saturius, find the fastening. Why do you tie up the poor girl like an Egyptian corpse and prevent her lord and master from looking at her?"
As he spoke the slave did something to the back of her head and the veil fell to the ground, revealing a girl of very pleasing shape and countenance, but who, as might be expected, looked most weary and frightened. Domitian stared at her with his bleared and wicked eyes, while a puzzled expression grew upon his face.
"Very odd!" he said, "but she seems to have changed! I thought her eyes were blue, and that she had curling black hair. Now they are dark and she has straight hair. Where"s the necklace, too? Where"s the necklace?
Pearl-Maiden, what have you done with your necklace? Yes, and why didn"t you wear the girdle I sent you to-day?"
"Sir," answered the Jewess, "I never had a necklace----"
"My lord Domitian," began Saturius with a nervous laugh, "there is a mistake--I must explain. This girl is not Pearl-Maiden. Pearl-Maiden fetched so great a price that it was impossible that I should buy her, even for you----"
He stopped, for suddenly Domitian"s face had become terrible. All the drunkenness had left it, to be replaced by a mask of savage cruelty through which glared the pale and glittering eyes. The man appeared as he was, half satyr and half fiend.
"A mistake----" he said. "Oh! a mistake? And I have been counting on her all these weeks, and now some other man has taken her from me--the prince Domitian. And you--you dare to come to me with this tale, and to bring this s.l.u.t with you instead of my Pearl-Maiden----" and at the thought he fairly sobbed in his drunken, disappointed rage. Then he stepped back and began to clap his hands and call aloud.
Instantly slaves and guards rushed into the chamber, thinking that their lord was threatened with some evil.
"Men," he said, "take that woman and kill her. No, it might make a stir, as she was one of t.i.tus"s captives. Don"t kill her, thrust her into the street."
The girl was seized by the arms and dragged away.
"Oh! my lord," began Saturius.
"Silence, man, I am coming to you. Seize him, and strip him. Oh! I know you are a freedman and a citizen of Rome. Well, soon you shall be a citizen of Hades, I promise you. Now, bring the heavy rods and beat him till he dies."
The dreadful order was obeyed, and for a while nothing was heard save the sound of heavy blows and the smothered moans of the miserable Saturius.
"Wretches," yelled the Imperial brute, "you are playing, you do not hit hard enough. I will teach you how to hit," and s.n.a.t.c.hing a rod from one of the slaves he rushed at his prostrate chamberlain, the others drawing back to allow their master to show his skill in flogging.
Saturius saw Domitian come, and knew that unless he could change his purpose in another minute the life would be battered out of him. He struggled to his knees.
"Prince," he cried, "hearken ere you strike. You can kill me if you will who are justly angered, and to die at your hands is an honour that I do not merit. Yet, dread lord, remember that if you slay me then you will never find that Pearl-Maiden whom you desire."
Domitian paused, for even in his fury he was cunning. "Doubtless," he thought, "the knave knows where the girl is. Perhaps even he has hidden her away for himself."