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 It was the palace ofDomitian, whither, the bewildering pomp of the Triumph finished at last,the prince had withdrawn himself in no happy mood. That day many thingshad happened to vex him. First and foremost, as had been brought hometo his mind from minute to minute throughout the long hours, its glorybelonged not to himself, not even to his father, Vespasian, but to hisbrother, the conqueror of the Jews. Titus he had always hated, Titus,who was as beloved of mankind for his virtues, such as virtues were inthat age, as he, Domitian, was execrated for his vices. Now Titus hadreturned after a brilliant and successful campaign to be crowned asCaesar, to be accepted as the sharer of his father's government, and toreceive the ovations of the populace, while his brother Domitian mustride almost unnoted behind his chariot. The plaudits of the roaring mob,the congratulations of the Senate, the homage of the knights and subjectprinces, the offerings of foreign kings, all laid at the feet of Titus,filled him with a jealousy that went nigh to madness. Soothsayers hadtold him, it was true, that his hour would come, that he would live andreign after Vespasian and Titus 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 templeof Jupiter, his place had been set too far back where the people couldnot see him; at the feast which followed the master of the ceremonieshad neglected, or had forgotten, to pour a libation in his honour.
Further, the beautiful captive, Pearl-Maiden, had appeared in theprocession unadorned by the costly girdle which he had sent her; while,last of all, the different wines that he had drunk had disagreed withhim, so that because of them, or of the heat of the sun, he sufferedfrom the headache and sickness to which he was liable. Pleading thisindisposition as an excuse, Domitian left the banquet very early, andattended by his slaves and musicians retired to his own palace.
Here his spirits revived somewhat, since he knew that before long hischamberlain, Saturius, would appear with the lovely Jewish maidenupon whom he had set his fancy. This at least was certain, for he hadarranged that the auction should be held that evening and instructedhim to buy her at all costs, even for a thousand sestertia. Indeed, whowould dare to bid for a slave that the Prince Domitian desired?
Learning that Saturius had not yet arrived, he went to his privatechambers, and to pass away the time commanded his most beautiful slavesto dance before him, where he inflamed himself by drinking more wine ofa vintage that he loved. As the fumes of the strong liquor mounted tohis brain the pains in his head ceased, at any rate for a while. Verysoon he became half-drunk, and as was his nature when in drink, savage.One of the dancing slaves stumbled and growing nervous stepped out oftime, whereon he ordered the poor half-naked girl to be scourged beforehim by the hands of her own companions. Happily for her, however, beforethe punishment began a slave arrived with the intelligence that Saturiuswaited 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 theworthy Saturius enter with his charge."
Presently the curtains were drawn apart and through them came Saturiusrubbing his hands and smiling somewhat nervously, followed by a womanwrapped in a long cloak and veiled. He began to offer the customarysalutations, but Domitian cut him short.
"Rise, man," he said. "That sort of thing is very well in public, butI don't want it here. So you have got her," he added, eyeing the drapedform in the background.
"Yes," replied Saturius doubtfully.
"Good, your services shall be remembered. You were ever a discreet andfaithful agent. Did the bidding run high?"
"Oh! my lord, enormous, ee--normous. I never heard such bidding," and hestretched 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, ofcourse it is enough, but I have known beautiful maidens fetch more. Bythe 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 forawhile. Unveil yourself, most beautiful, that I may behold thatloveliness for which my heart has ached these many days. Nay, that taskshall be my own," and he advanced somewhat unsteadily towards his prize.
Saturius thought that he saw his chance. Domitian was so intoxicatedthat it would be useless to attempt to explain matters that night.Clearly he should retire as soon as possible.
"Most noble prince and patron," he began, "my duty is done, with yourleave I will withdraw."
"By no means, by no means," hiccupped Domitian, "I know that you are anexcellent judge of beauty, most discriminating Saturius, and I shouldlike to talk over the points of this lady with you. You know, dearSaturius, that I am not selfish, and to tell the truth, which you won'tmind between friends--who could be jealous of a wizened, last year'swalnut of a man like you? Not I, Saturius, not I, whom everybodyacknowledges to be the most beautiful person in Rome, much betterlooking than Titus is, although he does call himself Caesar. Now for it.Where's the fastening? Saturius, find the fastening. Why do you tie upthe poor girl like an Egyptian corpse and prevent her lord and masterfrom looking at her?"
As he spoke the slave did something to the back of her head and theveil fell to the ground, revealing a girl of very pleasing shape andcountenance, but who, as might be expected, looked most weary andfrightened. 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 eyeswere blue, and that she had curling black hair. Now they are dark andshe 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'tyou 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 amistake--I must explain. This girl is not Pearl-Maiden. Pearl-Maidenfetched 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 thedrunkenness had left it, to be replaced by a mask of savage crueltythrough which glared the pale and glittering eyes. The man appeared ashe was, half satyr and half fiend.
"A mistake----" he said. "Oh! a mistake? And I have been counting onher all these weeks, and now some other man has taken her from me--theprince Domitian. And you--you dare to come to me with this tale, andto bring this slut with you instead of my Pearl-Maiden----" and at thethought he fairly sobbed in his drunken, disappointed rage. Then hestepped back and began to clap his hands and call aloud.
Instantly slaves and guards rushed into the chamber, thinking that theirlord 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 Titus's captives. Don't kill her, thrust her into thestreet."
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 knowyou are a freedman and a citizen of Rome. Well, soon you shall be acitizen of Hades, I promise you. Now, bring the heavy rods and beat himtill he dies."
The dreadful order was obeyed, and for a while nothing was heard savethe sound of heavy blows and the smothered moans of the miserableSaturius.
"Wretches," yelle
d the Imperial brute, "you are playing, you do not hithard enough. I will teach you how to hit," and snatching a rod from oneof the slaves he rushed at his prostrate chamberlain, the others drawingback to allow their master to show his skill in flogging.
Saturius saw Domitian come, and knew that unless he could change hispurpose in another minute the life would be battered out of him. Hestruggled to his knees.
"Prince," he cried, "hearken ere you strike. You can kill me if you willwho are justly angered, and to die at your hands is an honour that I donot merit. Yet, dread lord, remember that if you slay me then you willnever find that Pearl-Maiden whom you desire."
Domitian paused, for even in his fury he was cunning. "Doubtless," hethought, "the knave knows where the girl is. Perhaps even he has hiddenher away for himself."
"Ah!" he said aloud, quoting the vulgar proverb, "'the rod is the motherof reason.' Well, can you find her?"
"Surely, if I have time. The man who can afford to pay two thousandsestertia for a single slave cannot easily be hidden."
"Two thousand sestertia!" exclaimed Domitian astonished. "Tell me thatstory. Slaves, give Saturius his robe and fall back--no, not too far, hemay be treacherous."
The chamberlain threw the garment over his bleeding shoulders andfastened it with a trembling hand. Then he told his tale, adding:
"Oh! my lord, what could I do? You have not enough money at hand to payso huge a sum."
"Do, fool? Why you should have bought her on credit and left meto settle the price afterwards. Oh! never mind Titus, I could haveoutwitted him. But the mischief is done; now for the remedy, so far asit can be remedied," he added, grinding his teeth.
"That I must seek to-morrow, lord."
"To-morrow? And what will you do to-morrow?"
"To-morrow I will find where the girl's gone, or try to, and then--whyhe who has bought her might die and--the rest will be easy."
"Die he surely shall be who has dared to rob Domitian of his darling,"answered the prince with an oath. "Well, hearken, Saturius, for thisnight you are spared, but be sure that if you fail for the second timeyou also shall die, and after a worse fashion than I promised you. Nowgo, and to-morrow we will take counsel. Oh! ye gods, why do you dealso hardly with Domitian? My soul is bruised and must be comforted withpoesy. Rouse that Greek from his bed and send him to me. He shall readto me of the wrath of Achilles when they robbed him of his Briseis, forthe hero's lot is mine."
So this new Achilles departed, now that his rage had left him, weepingmaudlin tears of disappointed passion, to comfort his "bruised soul"with the immortal lines of Homer, for when he was not merely a bruteDomitian fancied himself a poet. It was perhaps as well for his peaceof mind that he could not see the face of Saturius, as the chamberlaincomforted his bruised shoulders with some serviceable ointment, or hearthe oath which that useful and industrious officer uttered as he soughthis rest, face downwards, since for many days thereafter he was unableto lie upon his back. It was a very ugly oath, sworn by every god whohad an altar in Rome, with the divinities of the Jews and the Christiansthrown in, that in a day to come he would avenge Domitian's rods withdaggers. Had the prince been able to do so, there might have risen inhis mind some prescience of a certain scene, in which he must play apart on a far-off but destined night. He might have beheld a vision ofhimself, bald, corpulent and thin-legged, but wearing the imperial robesof Caesar, rolling in a frantic struggle for life upon the floor of hisbed-chamber, at death grips with one Stephanus, while an old chamberlainnamed Saturius drove a dagger again and again into his back, crying ateach stroke:
"Oho! That for thy rods, Caesar! Oho! Dost remember the Pearl-Maiden?That for thy rods, Caesar, and that--and that--and _that_----!"
But Domitian, weeping himself to sleep over the tale of the wrongs ofthe god-like Achilles, which did but foreshadow those of his divineself, as yet thought nothing of the rich reward that time should bringhim.