The Lion's Brood

  III.

  PACUVIUS CALAVIUS.

  The house of Pacuvius Calavius was well situated, near the centre ofthe town, accessible to the Forum, and upon a street of considerablewidth. The porch of the ostium was supported by four columnsdelicately fluted and painted, the lower half in dull crimson, theupper in ochre. A porter, in costume much richer than those worn bymost free Romans, lounged on a stool set upon the mosaic pavement, androused himself lazily to shuffle down and inquire why the rheda hadhalted before his door.

  "Ah! It was a lady"--and he smirked with insolent meaning--"whodesired to see his master?" He threw out his hands with a deprecatorygesture. "The gods were, in truth, very friendly to Pacuvius Calavius;but then he was very old--a complaint which few could guard against.Oh!--"

  Mago had signalled to one of his horsemen, and the soldier's lashwhistled and wound itself about the slave's neck. All the fellow'slaziness and insolence vanished, and he fell upon the pavement,writhing and whimpering.

  "Lash the hound till he does his office," said Mago, quietly; and theshort hand-thong rose again.

  But before it descended a second time, the porter had rolled andscrambled to his feet, and was rushing to open the door. He vanishedwith wonderful speed, and, a moment later, there appeared a mansomewhat above middle age, with a close-curling, white beard, and cladin a robe so heavily embroidered with gold as to leave the groundcolour a matter of conjecture. With keen eyes that shifted nervously,he hurried down toward the rheda. Then, noting Mago, and that he was aCarthaginian of rank, he paused, uncertain, and his salutation savouredsomewhat of over-respect.

  "A lady?" he said hesitatingly;--"a lady who desires to see me?"

  Marcia parted the curtains and leaned out, smiling. The newcomerstopped short and gasped in astonishment.

  Mago glanced sharply from one to the other, and his lip curled. Hesigned to his attendants, and, with an obeisance that had in ithaughtiness rather than courtesy, he rode away.

  Glancing cautiously up and down the street, Calavius approached therheda.

  "And is it the lady Marcia who is to honour my house?" he began, inwords that carried more welcome than did the tone. "A dangerousjourney, in these days, and a dangerous destination. Surely you arewelcome--and who was the young man that rode with you? Did he knowanything of your name and birth? I trust you were cautious?--"

  Marcia laughed.

  "Do not fear, father;" Calavius frowned slightly at the venerabletitle, and shook out his robe that the odours might permeate the air."Do not fear but that I was as cunning as your Campanians. I told himI was a Roman--wherefore not? For the matter of that, he divined it.He is Mago, the brother of Hannibal--"

  "And he brought you here?" cried Calavius, trembling now in goodearnest. "Surely it was done to ruin me; but whose plot?--whose plot?"

  "It is not necessary I should be your guest," said Marcia, withwell-feigned indifference. "Doubtless there are inns; but he guided mehere because I asked for your house, imagining that my father's friendwould have a welcome for my father's daughter."

  Calavius instantly recovered his composure.

  "Ah! dear lady," he began, in a voice from which all the tremor hadvanished, "and do you dream for a moment that you should taste of otherhospitality than mine? Will you not descend--nay, I will help you--andlet us enter quickly. These are indeed troublous days, and every doorcreaks a warning; troublous days, with each man's hand against hisneighbour, plotting by necessity, often, rather than by preference.What! your attendants are hurt?" Again his voice shook. "A brawl?that is bad; but come within. It is there you shall tell me of it all."

  So speaking, he assisted Marcia to descend, and, summoning hisservants, gave the rheda and its guardians into their care. Then heled the way into his house, carefully fastening the street door behindthem, for the porter evidently had not halted in his flight, short ofthe slaves' apartments upstairs.

  Marcia followed, wondering at the magnificence of the decorations. Shepassed through passages lighted by hanging-lamps of gold and silver andbronze; past walls rich with frescoes in black and yellow and red;panels and pictures such as Caius Fabius Pictor could never havedreamed when he ornamented the Temple of Safety; frescoes that so farsurpassed the work of Damophilus and Gorgasus upon the walls of Ceres,as these had surpassed the art of Pictor himself. Then came courtssurrounded by rows of fluted columns, set with fountains that threwlight sprays of scented water over the flowers and the garments of thepassers; then more passages, with paintings of even greater merit anddelicacy of execution, mingled, here and there, with scenes where thedelicacy was of the execution alone, and that brought hot blushes toher cheek. Amid all, were scattered richly carved pedestals bearingbeautiful statues done in marble or bronze, or great vases, black orterra-cotta, with intricately composed groups of figures in theopposite tint. It came like a veritable revelation to one who hadknown nothing but the crude art of the Etruscans and the cruderhandicraft of her own people, tempered, as they were, by the taste ofsuch Greek artists as fell so far short of their native ideals as to bewilling to waste their skill upon barbarians. She had heard of thewealth and luxury of the Capuans, but it had never entered her mind toimagine that the luxury of Capua could demand, or the wealth ofCampania purchase, pictures whose distance and proportions were true tolife itself, and statues that seemed veritably to live and breathe.Her eyes were big with wonder and admiration, when her guide and hostturned sharply to the right and ushered her into a small room thatlooked out through a row of slender pillars into a portico beyond, andthence into a garden that seemed a very forest of small rose trees.Around the walls ran a shelf upon which were set a number of circularboxes, while lying upon the table were several bulky rolls of papyrus,in parchment wrappers stained yellow or purple.

  "My library," said Calavius, in a careless tone, but with a wave of hisarm that showed his pride in its possession. "Three hundred andeighty-nine works--the best, and of the most excellent authors:--poets,philosophers, historians, rhetoricians--all that is worth reading. Noman in Capua has a better show of literature--unless, perhaps, it beDecius Magius," and his voice sank, as if the name had brought him backto a realization of circumstances. "Here I can read withoutdisturbance, and here we can talk without fear of interruption orlistening ears. There are slaves always stationed at both ends of theportico, to insure quiet."

  "And you are the man who has dared to turn Capua over to the enemies ofRome! Truly, I cannot understand."

  Marcia could not restrain the words, and Calavius flushed.

  "Do not condemn me for timidity," he said quickly. "These aredangerous seas for a man of mark to steer his craft upon.Carthaginians and other barbarians are not citizens of Capua--norefinement--no civilization. Much has happened to disturb me--tounsettle my nerves. Decius Magius has been parading in the Forum,defying our friends,--and who with him but my own son, Perolla, castingdiscredit on my plans, and danger on himself! It was with the utmostdifficulty I could drag him away--and then, what does the Carthaginiando but fly into a rage, and demand an audience of the senate, with aview to punishing Decius. Nothing but my influence and that of Virriusand the Ninii have persuaded him to forego his purpose for the time;and that, only, by pleading the joy of this day, and that it should begiven to nothing save festivity and feasting. Truly, my mind misgivesme. Still, they have sworn that no Carthaginian shall have any powerover a Campanian, and--was not that a noise in the portico?"

  He rose and, gliding out to the row of pillars, looked up and down.Marcia regarded him with contempt and pity.

  "And yet," she said, "it is for this terror and distrust that you havebetrayed Rome. Were there none of our soldiers and citizens in thetown?"

  "Do not speak of it," whispered Calavius, growing even paler;--"a mostfrightful misfortune! They were taken in arms, or at theirbusiness--what matters it which?--and confined in the baths forsafe-keeping."

  "And then?" said Marcia, for he paused.

  "And
then some evil-disposed persons turned on the vapour."

  "They were killed?" she cried.

  "Not so loud!--not so loud! for the love of all the gods! It was amistake, a terrible mistake!"

  "Ah! guest-friend of my father," said Marcia, sadly; "I fear it is amistake that Rome will exact a heavy price for. You say truly that itmatters not how they were taken."

  "But I swear it was no will of mine!" he cried, and then, fearing lesthe had committed himself too deeply, he went on. "In fact, lady, theysay too much, who set this revolution at my door; who say that I wasthe mover of all. Was it not Vibius Virrius who first suggested it?Was it not Marius Blossius, the praetor, who led out the people to meetthe Carthaginians?--and see how my son is still with Rome! No, byBacchus! there are many here a thousand times more guilty--if it beguilt, and on whom the rods and axes must fall first if there bejustice under the gods. You can bear witness at Rome to that."

  "There will be rods and axes enough for all," said Marcia, grimly,filled with horror and disgust for the deeds told of, and with contemptfor this garrulous, timid plotter of treachery and murder. Then,suddenly, she noted a sinister glitter in his eye, and, at the sametime, remembering her mission, she checked her words and went on, "Rodsand axes enough for all who are so feeble as not to take thesovereignty of Italy when it lies within their grasp."

  "What--what is that you say?" he said eagerly, and the threat fled fromhis face. "The sovereignty of Italy? Ah! it is a great prize! Whoshall deny it to us? Are we not the second city? Have we not alliesthe strongest in the world?--a general the greatest? and when all isover, who so fitting to rule as the first man of the first city?--forRome will be no more. Ah! I will deal with them gently, though; Iwill conciliate--unless I be opposed too obstinately. You shall tellthem that. Are they meditating surrender? Do they not see that wemust prevail?--but," and his tone changed again to distrust, "I haveforgotten to ask, amid my anxiety about matters of state, why you havecome to Capua--a Roman--at such times?"

  Marcia laughed. She was ready for her part now, and this adversary, atleast, she despised,--perhaps too much, for he was a cunning man, inhis way, and when the matter demanded only chicanery against othercowards.

  "Ah! my Pacuvius, a politician like _you_ asks me that?" she exclaimedgayly. "Is it for a woman to remain in a ship buffeted and rocking inthe storm? a ship that must founder soon, if it be but left to itself?"

  "Is that truth?" he asked eagerly, but with a tinge of suspicion in hisvoice.

  "Surely, it is truth: as it is truth that I, with many other women,have gone out to such cities where there are friends of ourhouses--cities friendly to the new powers, friends strong enough togive us shelter and protection. It is my happy fortune to have found acity and a friend the strongest of all."

  Calavius smiled complacently and stroked his beard.

  "Yes, you have done well," he said slowly. "I am not without interestwith the captain-general of Carthage, and there may be yet greaterthings in store for me. I will go now and send female attendants toyou, that you may seek the bath and your room, and have suchrefreshment as you desire. I will talk with you again later, butto-night there is the banquet at the house of the Ninii. Ah! it willbe the greatest feast that Capua has seen--a banquet to Hannibal andthe Carthaginian leaders. Farewell."

  He turned to go, but she rose quickly and laid her hand upon his robe.

  "You have not heard all, yet," she said, casting down her eyes andspeaking in halting phrases. "Do you truly believe that it is _only_ awoman's fears that have brought me to Capua? You have not questionedme closely. That is not worthy of your wisdom. It is hard for a womanto tell all things unless they be drawn from her."

  He stared with eyes full of wonder.

  "What do you mean?" he asked.

  Then, throwing her head to one side, she laughed, so that Sergiushimself would scarcely have known it from the laugh of thefree-hearted, jesting Marcia of other days.

  "Oh, my father, you a Capuan and a man learned in the ways of women!It is pitiful--this littleness of your knowledge. Come, tell me now,as to a pedagogue, what is it that leads a woman to all places, throughall dangers?"

  "Surely, my child, it is love," said Calavius, vacantly. Then his facetook on an expression, first of furrowed surprise and then of gratifiedvanity, an expression that brought the hot blush to Marcia's cheek,even while she struggled to restrain her contemptuous mirth. Hismanner changed at once to one of insinuating gallantry, which shehastened to check before he should commit himself.

  "What is it," she went on again, glancing down that he might not seeand read her eyes; "what is it that makes women love men? What, if notstrength and courage? I am a Roman, my father; but Roman men are nolonger fit mates for Roman women. Where but in the camp of Carthageshall I find one worthy of my beauty? It is there I seek my lover."

  Disappointment lowered on the face of Calavius. He had noted herbeauty, long before she had referred to it; but now he noted it with amore distinct desire, and the words, "my father," which she had used,though but a customary term of respect, grated the more harshly uponhis ears. Still, controlling himself, he asked:--

  "And which man of our allies has the lady Marcia chosen to bless withthe love that is too high for an humble Italian?"

  She looked the siren herself, as she answered:--

  "Surely, my father would not learn the secret of his daughter!"Calavius winced. "Believe, only, that he who has been loved at adistance is noble and powerful. However, if so be that my lord wouldlearn the truth, let him take her to this banquet. I have heard oftenthat much liberty is allowed to the women of Capua; why not, then, tothe guest of the noblest of the Capuans?"

  The mind of Calavius had been divided. With the first rebuff to hisrising passion had come the impulse to avail himself of his power andof the helpless position of his guest to gratify his spite or hispleasure as she might choose to make it. Then, at the suggestion thatshe loved and had come to seek a Carthaginian of rank, he thought ofthe disfavour--even peril he might incur by such a course should anenemy or a slave learn the facts and expose him; and, finally, he fellinto a cunning casting up of the influence he might gain over thelover, whoever he was, to whom he should be instrumental insurrendering such perfect beauty. Again he winced at the thought, butthen, what more likely than that her silly, woman's vanity aspired tothe captain-general himself? and he, Pacuvius Calavius, might hope tobe the confidential go-between. What profit and influence might not befound in such a relation!--so personal, so beneficent! After all,there were many beautiful women--even among his slaves, and what wasthe difference between woman and woman compared to the dream of Italiansovereignty that hovered before his eyes! He knew well that no wife ordaughter of a Capuan would be present at that banquet--only the mostbeautiful of the city's hetairai--but what of that? This girl was aRoman--an enemy; the claims of hospitality between his people and herswould be shivered in the coming crash of arms. What mattered it if togain a point--a great point--he wrenched loose his personal obligationsa few days sooner? Yes, Marcia should go to the banquet, and, ifHannibal desired her, then he, Pacuvius Calavius, would surrender herinto his arms. He knit his brows and spoke:--

  "What you ask, my daughter, is truly difficult to compass, nor do Iknow that any women or of what class will be present. Trust, however,that all my power shall be at your service to gain any wish of yourheart,--and, as you know, I am not powerless,--only remember that it isyour will that I am doing. I will send a servant who shall lead you toyour chamber. Rest, prepare, and expect my return before the thirdhour. Farewell."

  Marcia did not detain him. She noticed the wealth of odours that hisfluttering gown had left behind, and her contempt and disgust deepened.