Neæra. A Tale of Ancient Rome

Tucca, the owner and occupier of this abode, was an old man, who lived alone with his wife. He was a small man, with a head nearly bald, and had sharp features, withered and prodigiously wrinkled. He was evidently very aged, but of that spare, wiry toughness of body which best defies time. He did not seem to be scrupulously clean in person. His garments might have been worn night and day for months, by their greasy surfaces and obstinate creases, whilst the leather-like folds of his face had the appearance of being engrained with dirt. He derived his livelihood from wine-growing and otherwise tilling the ground, and his arduous and lifelong toil had had the effect of imparting a stoop to his slight dried-up frame. His tenement stretched from the left of his house along the path which led to the town, and his vines, likewise, reached upward, draping the hillside, as far as sufficient soil could be gathered together to give them sustenance.

Tigellinus had made, no doubt, the best choice possible for the purpose required, when he led the beautiful young Roman lady hither to this spot, hidden away half round a hill, on the brink of the cliffs, as far as a human foot could venture; but, as no previous notice had been made to its resident, of the unexpected honour about to be conferred upon him, the ancient husbandman was, as might be expected, considerably startled. A few whispered words from Tigellinus in his ear, however, charmed away the astonished and ill-tempered expression of his restless, mistrustful eyes, and he became readiness, compliance, and amiability itself. The haughty and even scornful bearing of his visitor, as she glanced around her lodging, and scanned him from head to foot, might seem to have warmed his old heart with gratefulness, so deep was his obeisance, and so great was the grimace of joy with which he contorted his face. His wife, as lean and withered as himself, had a hard time of it for a space; but, finally, all arrangements were made for the comfortable bestowment of the visitors, and the household sank into sleep and oblivion.

The following morning, as day was breaking, Tucca came out of his house into the raw air. Water was an element he did not favour at any time, but more particularly thus early. Hence he proceeded to his work in a state of semi-wakefulness. A little grove of fruit trees covered the left flank of the house, and through this he directed his steps, more by instinct than due perception of where he was going. In the midst there was an arbour, or summer-house, in a state of bad repair, being a structure designed for ornament and ease, with which Tucca had no sympathy whatever. Its frame, in fact, was mainly held together by the twining creepers, which thickly enwrapped it, and almost hid the doorway from view. As the old husbandman passed close by this, an arm was thrust forth from amid the creepers, and the hand thereof grasped him by the shoulder. Tucca, startled out of his comatose state, gave vent to a yelp of surprise, very largely mixed with fear, but it was lost within the gloom of the arbour whither he was dragged.

‘Good morrow, Tucca; you are out betimes; you deserve to be as rich as people say you are.’

Tucca gazed at his captor; but the gloom, combined with his confused faculties, prevented him from making anything out save a figure clothed in a long cloak and peaked hood, or burnoose, which well-nigh enveloped the face as well as the head.

‘Who are you and what do you want?’ was the natural response of the wine-grower.

‘I am one you know, and I am here to see you on particular business.’

‘You may be some one I know, but this is a strange time and a strange place to lie in wait; I don’t like the look of it myself,’ was the short, crusty answer. ‘Come into the daylight, such as it is, so far!’

‘No,’ replied the figure, holding him back; ‘I prefer staying here until we have finished.’

‘I ought to know your voice.’

‘I told you that I am known to you.’

‘Then why in the name of the furies do you not show me your face?’

‘I will, gossip; but, first of all, a few words. You received two visitors last night?’

‘Eh!’ said the old man, giving a start.

‘I say you received two visitors last night – two women.’

Tucca kept his hand upon the handle of a knife stuck in his girdle, and he eyed his questioner keenly in silence for a moment, as if to think twice before he spoke.

‘Well?’ said the other sharply.

‘It’s none of your business whether I did or whether I did not – I’ll not tell you.’

‘You will have to tell me more than that – look, old man!’

Tucca’s visitor stepped towards the doorway, where his face might meet the fast-increasing light, and he threw back the ample burnoose from his head. The ancient legs of the wine-grower shook beneath him. He became fully awake; for the classic face of Zeno, the Emperor’s steward, looked down upon him, as perfect and beautiful as if sculptured in tinted marble, but with the cold, metallic eyes which were fatal to all accompanying grace.

‘It is my worshipful Zeno!’ exclaimed Tucca, with gestures of abject humility and apology. ‘Pardon, noble Zeno; but how could your servant know you in this light and with that hood over your face – and with my eyes too – seventy-five years old? But why come here so early in the cold? Come into – no, I mean – a – a – what can old Tucca do to serve your worship?’

‘Thank you, Tucca. Had I thought fit to go into your house I would have done so without an invitation, knowing your esteem and love for me. But,’ continued Zeno, with a meaning smile, ‘I knew it would not be convenient for you, since you harbour guests beneath your roof. I thought it best to speak with you out of doors first before I ran the chance of making myself an intruder, unwelcome as it might be. Shall we go in now?’

‘Well – ah – it is hardly fit to receive you – at this time of day – nothing in order or – ’

‘No matter for that,’ said Zeno, interrupting the stammering and confused old man; ‘I only want a seat and a draught of wine.’

‘Then wait only one minute until I tell my wife, and she will straighten up and make tidy for your worship,’ returned Tucca, turning to trot out of the arbour.

Zeno caught him by the arm.

‘Not so fast,’ said he; ‘I have changed my mind. Old fool, did I not know for a surety that you had those I speak of within your house, your very manner would have revealed it to me, as plainly as written parchment telling the same. Do you deny it?’

‘Most worshipful – ’ began Tucca imploringly.

‘Do you deny, I say?’

‘Why do you ask me? What can it be to you?’ said the wine-grower, with a show of resistance.

‘To me – nothing!’ responded the steward, with a grim smile; ‘I am only one of the tiger’s paws to be stretched out at the tiger’s will. It rests upon you at present, Tucca, so be wise. I have come from the villa of Neptune this morning straight.’

‘Good Zeno, be easy with me, for you have dealt well with me so far,’ whined the perplexed and terrified old man.

‘You are not proceeding in the way most calculated to incline me to do so. Tell me!’ said Zeno, pointing meaningly towards the house.

‘I cannot – there is one as great in Capreae as Caesar – I dare not.’

‘You will repent of that delusion when you find yourself, very shortly, about to be cast from one of the cliffs of Capreae. What’s he that you compare with Caesar? There is but one you can mean – is it the Prefect?’

Tucca hung his head and did not answer. Zeno thereby gained a little information, which had the effect of giving him, at once, some more personal concern in the matter. To spy upon a probable arrangement of the formidable Prefect was a task unlooked for and likely to prove of some interest.

‘You are obstinate, Tucca, and you are simple and foolish to put the servant before his master. I might be disposed to leave you in a huff and allow you to take the consequences of your idiocy, but I will take more pains with you, and try and reason you out of your ideas. You live so much out of the way here in this corner that you are ignorant of how things run. Listen: last night a certain merchant, named Tigellinus, brought two females to your house, and there they are at this moment. It is folly for you to deny it. You grow excellent wine, Tucca – I have bought it from you for the Emperor’s table, and the Emperor likes it. Caesar is a resident, and if you wish to continue his custom you had better do as I advise you; if not, you will assuredly have every drop of blood drawn out of your old veins, as well as every quart of wine out of your cellars. The same finger that can do this can, equally as well, do the same to the most noble Prefect if sad necessity compelled. Do your duty to your ruler and patron, therefore, and rest easy.’

‘You know what I know – I cannot tell you more,’ said the husbandman despairingly.

‘Their names?’

‘Before Jupiter, I know not.’

‘I have also orders to dispense certain coins to those who make themselves particularly useful in this matter – it is surely best to please the strongest party and be paid for it – at least my notions run that way.’

Zeno made a dull jingling of some money under his cloak, and marked, with a smile, the flash of the old man’s eyes and the pricking up of his ears.

‘Noble Zeno, you were ever liberal with me, but if I could serve you without – ’

‘It will be easily earned, Tucca; good pay, and never fear for your old bones.’

‘What, then, do you require?’

‘To use your memory and duly relate to me anything that your visitors may say loud enough for your ears to catch. If it be anything about the weather, or matters of equal importance, you need not trouble to store it up; but if there may be a chance remark or inquiry concerning any person or persons of any note in the island, you must truly bring the same to me, as I should like to hear it. You must, likewise, take notice of their movements, and everything which may be likely to throw a light upon the reason of their presence here. You see, therefore, Tucca, that your task is of the easiest and lightest, and beyond suspicion – merely to keep your eyes and ears open.’

‘And will you be at hand, or must I go to seek you at the palaces?’

‘Inquire for Alexander at the little tavern of the Widow Paula, and you will be told where to find me – you will remember to inquire for Alexander, old man?’

‘For Alexander, noble Zeno.’

‘Good; it is important. Now, by way of commencement, tell me the names of these women.’

‘I swear by all the gods in heaven, Zeno, I do not know. They came and ate a slight supper, such as we were able to put before them, – for we knew no more than the dead that we were to have any visitors, – and then they retired, and we have not seen them since. It is the truth, as I stand here!’

‘Well, and what of their appearance? are they young?’

‘Young, Zeno, and the mistress as beautiful as the sun.’

‘Ah!’ said Zeno, nodding, whilst a smile spread over his handsome face; ‘I think there will nothing very serious spring out of this matter, although a ten years’ war did once arise on account of a woman. But, nevertheless, be vigilant.’

‘I will be all ears and eyes.’

‘And secret – do not ask impertinent questions, or you will spoil all.’

‘Not one, noble Zeno.’

‘Consider your next amphorae of wine as sold and delivered, at a point above the best price in Capreae.’

‘Generous Zeno!’ said Tucca, bending low.

‘And for this,’ rejoined the steward, artfully chinking the coins beneath his cloak, ‘we will settle when this business is over.’

‘May it be soon; why they should pitch upon my house, and mix a harmless man up with their women and their works, I know not – but I would they were away.’

‘And so do I, Tucca, for this early morning watch does not agree with your humble servant.’

‘But what safeguard can you offer me if he, for whom these people are in charge, should know that I play the spy on them?’

‘He cannot know if you do only as I tell you; and if he does, leave the rest to me.’

‘Hermes guard me – I should be but the earthen pipkin between two brazen pots.’

The steward was looking cautiously through the leafy screen of the doorway towards the house. He started and said, ‘Hasten, Tucca, look upon your housetop! There are these same mysterious beings gazing therefrom upon the landmarks of the island and tasting the morning air – hasten to the house – they may want thee to ask thee this or that, it may be – there is a chance – so go!’

‘I will.’

‘And hearken, Tucca, it is best to reckon up both sides of our bargain,’ added Zeno, catching him by the arm for a moment; ‘I rely upon your faith and have no reason to doubt it, being, as you are, in your right mind; but if you play me false from fear, or hope, or promise of what you would expect to be greater in pay, as sure as you stand by me at this very moment you shall suffer!’

‘Dear Zeno and friend, I could never – ’

‘I think not, but if you do – in yonder villa of Jove, within the walls there, is more than one catapult – you shall be shot from the cliffs a league into the sea, like a pebble from a sling. Go, and forget not Alexander at the tavern of Paula!’

The husbandman went back to his house, on the flat roof of which Plautia and her maid were standing, taking the keen morning air and viewing the landscape, as Zeno had said.

The old man shuffled about in view down below, and presently the voice of Plautia hailed him and desired, or rather commanded, him to go up to her.

He did so, and the stoop in his small, withered body was doubled in humility as he remained before her awaiting her pleasure. She looked haughtily down upon him, and the light of day did not improve his appearance. The grease and the dirt-engrained wrinkles, somewhat softened and mellowed by the lamplight of the night before, were as perceptible as only daylight could make them. The finely-curved nose of Plautia was elevated at its tip, as much as it was capable of doing, as she surveyed her host in all his glory. She formed the most complete contrast possible. Her noble figure, large and erect, fronting his small, bent, insignificant frame; her dark piercing eyes and her glowing skin, fresh from the early morning toilet, and tinted with a yet richer bloom by the keen sea-breeze. It seemed to the ancient husbandman as if the glorious Juno herself had descended on to the roof of his dwelling to survey the isle and sea sleeping and silent in the gray light of dawn.

‘I wish to tell you, old man,’ she began abruptly, ‘that you shall be well paid for our lodging here.’

‘That I feel sure of, gracious lady,’ replied the reverent Tucca.

‘Your house is retired and not overlooked, and for that reason I come here. We wish to be entirely unobserved. It is necessary that our presence here be not known. Therefore you and your wife must refrain from prating a single word thereof. You understand?’

‘Perfectly, lady, you may rest easy – we shall give neither word nor sign.’

‘Good! if you do I would not stand in your shoes for all the island is worth. Now show me all that can be seen from where we stand – what is yon house on yon hill? – I have been in Capreae ere this, but I forget.’

She pointed across to the villa of Mercury, crowning the conical hill above the Marina, on the other side of the valley. Tucca told her.

‘And who dwells therein?’ she inquired.

‘The Prefect, who is betrothed to Livia, the Emperor’s daughter-in-law – he is the greatest man in the Empire they say – he lives there at present. But the villa belongs to Caesar – like that one, and that, and that.’ He pointed to the elevated summits around.

‘The greatest man in the Empire,’ she murmured, with a smile; ‘and what of Caesar?’

‘He is even now over there,’ explained Tucca, sweeping his grimy hand up toward the towering heights behind them; ‘he moves about from one place to another. To-morrow may find him over there – as likely as not.’

She followed his pointing finger to the eastern cliff in the distance, where the white walls of the fortress peeped up against the sky.

‘And that?’ she inquired.

‘Is the villa of Jove, of which he is the fondest. It is built in with huge walls; it is full of guards and stores of provisions they say, and the sea roars a thousand feet below.’

Tucca shuddered as he recalled the threat of Zeno.

‘Full of guards, say you – do you know any of those same guards?’

‘No, good lady; I have seen them, but I know none of them. They keep watch and ward over Caesar wherever he goes.’

‘Are they Pretorians, think you?’

‘Surely.’

‘And they are lodged in yonder villa?’

‘The bulk of them, yes.’

‘What, up there?’ said Plautia, looking thither earnestly.

Tucca nodded.

‘And the Prefect – does his guard lodge with him?’

‘I know not, lady; it is little I know of these great people.’

Plautia remained in thought for a minute, then she said, ‘You must find me a messenger who will be trusty and secret – but no! You had better do my errands – it would be safer.’

‘As you wish, noble lady.’

‘Come then, we will go down – we may be seen.’

‘It would be safer – there may be curious eyes prying,’ rejoined Tucca.

CHAPTER V

Shortly before noon on the same morning Domitius Afer climbed the steep path which led to the Prefect’s house. On arriving at the villa he found that Sejanus had gone to the Emperor’s stronghold on the eastern cliffs, where the Pretorians on duty in the island were barracked. Thither he thought it worth while to follow. Coming out of the gates of the villa Jovis he met Martialis, arrayed in simple civilian costume. With the barest recognition possible they went on their way, but Afer was sufficiently interested to tell his Greek attendant to loiter behind, and watch which way the young Centurion aimed for.

Three sides of the Emperor’s favourite villa were surrounded by strong defences. The fourth side, since it rested on the edge of the cliffs, was impregnable to everything save the birds of the air. Between the villa with its private grounds, and the outside girdle of defence, was an ample space, partly planted with trees. It was occupied, in one part, by a range of buildings, which were the quarters of the Pretorian detachment garrisoning the island during its tenure as an Imperial residence. The entrances of the villa itself were each guarded by the customary legionary, but, elsewhere, Afer met with no challenge to impede his steps. In the middle of the wide parade ground fronting the barrack houses, he perceived the Prefect speaking with an officer, who was a man approaching the gigantic in stature.

Afer loitered apart until the huge Pretorian officer went off, and then Sejanus turned towards him. ‘Good morrow, my Titus! Did you climb to the villa this morning?’

‘As usual, Prefect.’

‘I rested ill last night, and was astir earlier in consequence,’ said Sejanus. ‘There is nothing new from Rome.’

‘Alas, I would I were there!’ sighed Afer; ‘the heaviness of this listless isle is insupportable. The mountains, the rocks, and the sea – the sea, the rocks, and the mountains; there is nothing else. The senses rust, the brain is numb, and one walks as if steeped to the lips in a heavy dream or phantasmagoria. Would I were standing in my porch on the Esquiline!’

‘What, exchange this pure air, this fair isle, its peace and repose, for the smells, and smoke, and roars of that seething cauldron Rome! Tush, you have twice as much colour in your cheeks, and twice as much sparkle in your eye, as when we left it. You are hard to please. Turn philosopher or poet – anything to pass the time. You never hear me repine.’

‘Ah no, but I am not in the lucky position in which you are, Prefect; I have no betrothed bride to bid time fly like the wind,’ answered Afer sarcastically.

‘Go and get you one, then,’ said the smiling Prefect.

‘And in what eagle’s nest nigh the clouds, or in what secret den below ground should I keep her in this sea prison, that I might have her and call her still my own?’

‘Get an ill-favoured one and live in peace.’

‘I would rather take beauty and run all risks, if I could land beauty, on some dark night, and find a snug corner to bestow it safely and unseen,’ observed the knight carelessly.

Knowing his man, he did not expect his speech to have any effect, and he was, therefore, surprised to see a sudden light flash into his patron’s face.

‘By Hercules!’ exclaimed the Prefect sharply, as he struck his forehead at the same time with his hand, ‘was ever an idle speech such an apt reminder!’

He fumbled in the breast of his tunic.

‘What is it? what lucky word have I said?’ said Afer curiously.

‘How came it to slip my mind, and I only received it this morning as I left my chamber,’ said Sejanus, drawing forth a crumpled paper and offering it to his friend. ‘Read!’

Afer took the paper, which contained a few crabbed words, as follows: —

‘I arrived last night, and the two females you know of are safely lodged in the house of one Tucca, under the Hill of Mars, a very safe place.’

There was no signature, but Afer needed none to tell him from whom the missive came.

‘It is very suggestive,’ said he, with an inscrutable countenance; ‘but, for the rest, I am still too much in the dark to say more.’

‘What then if I tell you that these damsels came from Rome – who would you say they were, or rather she – for one, as I apprehend, is only a slave?’

‘Rome is large and its females many,’ said Afer; ‘I would as lieve begin to count the stones on the Marina.’

‘Who but our lovely entertainer on many a pleasant afternoon – who but the queenly Plautia.’

‘What! Plautia here, and why?’ cried the knight, with a start of surprise which Roscius might have envied. ‘Ah, Prefect, what does this mean?’

Afer smiled and looked at the handsome Prefect with a sly askant look.

‘Faith, I know not – not I,’ answered Sejanus.

‘Um!’ said his follower.

There was something in the manner of this ejaculation which proved too much for the other’s attempted gravity, and he burst out into a laugh.

‘You would seem to insinuate something, my dear Titus,’ he remarked; ‘and yet it is quite true, incredible as it may appear, that our lovely and wilful dame has thought fit to visit Capreae entirely in obedience to her own whim.’

‘Most strange!’ rejoined Afer pithily.

‘Most true!’

‘There must be a strong reason for such a dainty, exquisite, proud, city-bred lady to come hither – do you not think so?’

‘Whether there be a strong inducement, or merely a woman’s curiosity I am equally unaware.’

‘Such privations, such hardships, such fatigues, such inconveniences for a female to undergo, who has never known even the hardness of a wrinkle in her bed of down. There is never a man in Rome who would not give five years of his life to be able to boast of this feat.’

‘Pooh, pooh, man! you are fantastical this morning.’

‘If I am as near the truth, as it seems to me I am, it matters not what name you put upon it.’

‘Tush!’

‘Your approaching marriage makes her desperate. It is as clear as the daylight.’

‘Pooh, pooh, this is nonsense!’

‘The lady is proud; but we ever thought we could detect the signs of feeling for you, in spite of her haughty bearing.’

‘Have done, man – you grow silly.’

‘What must be the power which can so reduce such pride and disdain to such lapdog humility!’

‘Are you so mad as to imagine that she has ventured hither on my account?’

‘I have said.’

‘Psaw!’

The ablest minds have their weaknesses, and it was beyond the power of the formidable Prefect’s affected scorn to hide the gratification which this flattery of the influence of his personal advantages caused to lurk in his very handsome face.

His client well knew that he need have little fear of giving offence by straining too grossly on the point, so he proceeded —

‘Until you are able, therefore, to render another reason for the divine Plautia’s presence, it will be vain to dislodge my opinion.’

‘I really cannot say, except that it is merely a woman’s whim,’ returned the other, shrugging his shoulders pityingly. ‘’Tis strange I forgot she was coming.’

‘What? did you then know?’ said Afer in surprise.

‘Had the least thought of it troubled my brain I must have told you before now. Ere we left Rome she vowed, for some reason which I could not discover, that she would pay a sly visit to Capreae. She would not be dissuaded, and for the sake of peace I consented. I arranged her conveyance hither; for the rest she must take her chance.’