"Hide me somewhere--where they cannot find me"--he murmured, half raising himself from the ground. "Thou wouldst not give up thy Caesar to the fury of the populace ... thou wouldst not soil thy hands with the blood of thy kinsman..."
Now he was embracing her knees and his hideous, distorted face was looking up appealingly at her.
"Thou wouldst not soil thy hands with the blood of thy kinsman...."
Even as these words escaped his flaccid lips a roll of thunder louder than any previous one came echoing from behind the Aventine Hill. Dea Flavia shuddered. Was it Jove"s warning, or already Jove"s curse, the curse of the G.o.ds on her for the treachery of her thoughts?
"Thou wouldst not soil thy hands with the blood of thy kinsman...." he repeated pitiably.
"No! no!" she said hurriedly. "Not that.... I"ll help thee!... What can I do?"
"Let me hide in thy house...."
"Where?"
He pointed to the studio.
"There!" he said.
"No! no!" she exclaimed, and instinctively her arms were held out, as if she would protect a sacred shrine.
"Thy workroom is private," he urged in tones of abject entreaty; "no one would venture there ... only thy women slaves ever cross its threshold.... I should be quite safe in the inner room ... thy women would not betray me ... thou hast some that are mute ... they could attend on me there, and no one would know of my presence until this outrage hath subsided.... In a few hours mayhap the praetorian guard will succeed in forcing a pa.s.sage through the raging mob ... my legions too are on their way from Germany ... they will be here soon ... they were only four days" march behind me and my convoy ... they are but a couple of days" march now from the city gates ... I could stay in there ... in thy private room ... with a few men to protect me ... and thy women to attend on me ... no one else would know...."
He talked volubly, at times incoherently, with hoa.r.s.e voice and quaking lips. She tried with all her might to free herself from his convulsive clutch--but he clung to her like a dying man would cling to the last breath of life--like a drowning man would cling to the raft on which he might find safety.
"In there----" he entreated.
"No--no----"
"I should be safe and n.o.body would know."
And now he raised himself to his feet, and swaying like a drunken man he turned toward the studio, calling to his guard to follow him. But she was still between him and that door, between this raving, bloodthirsty maniac and a helpless man who was lying wounded and in a drugged sleep on a bed of sickness.
The oracle had not yet finished speaking. The last word still hung in the air. Her choice had not yet been made: but at this moment when Caligula and his guard turned toward the studio door, she knew that it would not be long in the making. Never should that demented tyrant cross the threshold of her studio and wreak his hatred and revenge upon the fallen hero. Rather than that should happen she would call to the people, and hand over the Caesar--her kinsman--to an infuriated mob.
Better that than to deliver a wounded man into the claws of a raging brute.
Then mayhap the blood of her kinsman would stain her hands for ever; then, too, no doubt would come horror, remorse and the malediction of the G.o.ds. Then so be it. That would she take upon herself. What must be suffered, that she would suffer: the torments of remorse would be infinitesimal compared with the awful sacrilege which the Caesar"s hand would perpetrate, were he allowed access to the praefect of Rome.
And even as the resolve became firmly implanted in her heart, she found herself murmuring softly words which she had heard in the Forum a very few days ago.
"I have but one soul and that is in the hand of G.o.d!"
Something of the serenity which had then shone from the man"s face now entered into her heart. Horror and excitement fell away from her like a useless mantle. She felt herself absolutely calm and unswerving in her determination.
Therefore she did not make a rush for the studio door, she did not with dramatic gesture interpose her body between it and the Caesar: she merely put her hand out and let it rest upon his arm.
"I should be safe in there--and n.o.body would know...." he murmured.
"My slaves would know," she said coldly, "and would betray thee."
"I only fear the men and they need not know," he said eagerly, even though at her words he had paused and turned back towards her.
"Many of them have seen and heard thee."
"Tell them I have escaped to the Palace of Augustus, through the crypta."
"They would not believe it--they would know it was not true."
"Canst thou not trust thy slaves?" he snarled.
"Couldst thou trust thine?" she retorted.
"I can change robes with one of my guard," he urged, "and he could then pretend to be the Caesar escaping through the crypta to the House of Augustus."
""Twere safest not to make pretence," she rejoined coolly; "rather let the Caesar do what he suggests."
"What is that?"
"The Palace of Augustus would be the safest stronghold for the Caesar until the arrival of the legions. It would be safer than the house of his servant, for prying eyes may have seen him enter it, and ears--sharpened by hate--may have heard his cries."
"Then am I lost!" he exclaimed.
"Not if my gracious lord will take counsel of his servant. The underground way is clear and safe. The Palace of Augustus would afford ample shelter. Twenty men well armed will watch over the Caesar and the house of Dea Flavia will furnish the necessary food."
Caligula hesitated a moment, his shifty eyes wandered restlessly over the face of the young girl.
"Thou"lt not betray me?" he murmured.
"I could betray thee now an I would," she said simply. "The mob is at my gate. One call from me and the Caesar is in the hands of those who desire his death."
"Hush! hush!" he said, once more clutching her wrist and gazing fearfully around him, "speak not of this, Dea! The very words might call down the decree of the G.o.ds.... I"ll trust thee," he added, bringing his livid face close to her own and speaking with a fever of maddened fury, "but if thou shouldst fail me...."
"No need of threats, great Caesar," she said, calmly disengaging her wrist from his grasp and stepping back from him, "if I failed thee to-day neither I nor thou would be alive on the morrow."
The truth of what she said must have struck his dulled mind, for the look of savage ferocity quickly died from his face, leaving it once more pale with abject fear. He must have realised that his own unreasoning cowardice had placed him entirely in this girl"s hands, and that having feared to meet his people a few hours ago, he had cut off from beneath his own feet the bulwark of dignity and of unapproachable sanct.i.ty on which he should have stood.
"I"ll to the House of Augustus," he said more quietly, "while the rabble vent their rage upon my palace and search for their Caesar that they might murder him, I"ll remain there in peace. Do thou send thy most trusted slave into the streets, and let him endeavour to reach the praetorian guard who are holding their ground behind the crowd of rebels. They might effect a flank movement, which, if unexpected, might put the miscreants to rout sooner than we antic.i.p.ate. Hast a slave whom thou canst trust thus far?"
"I have two freedmen," she replied, "free since yesternight, who would give their life for me."
"Let them do it then," he retorted cynically. "And do thou lead the way to the triclinium. I am anhungered, and a halt at thy table will throw dust in the eyes of thy slaves. I can reach the crypta from there without being seen again."
"As the Caesar commands," she said calmly, "but there is little time to be lost."
CHAPTER XXVIII