Neæra. A Tale of Ancient Rome

She shivered and drew back, and the slave gave a cry of dismay. One or two observations more, where opportunity offered, gave the same result, and thus they arrived back at the palace. There was a wall of smooth-dressed stone on one hand, high and unscaleable, and on the other was a leap of a thousand feet, plumb down into the foaming sea.

The Roman damsel looked from one to the other with a fierce glance. She was entrapped, beyond doubt, and like a trapped animal she stood for a few moments, as if at bay, with scowling brows and labouring breast.

The slave observed, and stood discreetly back.

‘Come!’ said Plautia, suddenly wheeling toward the entrance of the villa, ‘we can do nothing out here but starve ourselves; we must play the fox and not the lion; let us get in again and wait for a fool’s face.’

CHAPTER XVII

Baffled and chafing, Plautia stretched herself on the couch again, and, this time, fell into a profound slumber, whilst her slave nodded and dozed, in company, upon a cushion at her feet.

No sooner did the former awake, greatly refreshed, than one of her attendants glided into the room, saying that the Emperor’s steward was awaiting admittance to deliver a message. The handsome Greek was brought in, and he handed her the tablets he bore. Plautia opened the missive, and found it to be a scrawl in Caesar’s own hand, desiring her company at breakfast, or luncheon, by whichever term the Roman prandium may be called.

‘His highness honours me,’ she said frigidly; ‘but I am not well, and must be excused.’

‘Does your ladyship wish me to take that message to Caesar?’ said Zeno, with subdued regret in his tone.

She nodded, and swept majestically into her dressing-room, where the mirror gave her the satisfaction of beholding a recovered bloom in her cheeks. She had never been prostrated a day with sickness in her memory. Yet to accept a place of her own free will at the table of her jailer was monstrous – at least so her indignant thoughts ran at that moment.

With recovered mental tone, her feminine curiosity began to indulge itself in a more minute inspection of its surroundings than it had hitherto found inclination for. In a small closet she came upon an array of female vestments. Caesar and Capreae were in general forgotten for a period, amid the rustle of beautiful and costly fabrics. Presently came another message, that Charicles, the Emperor’s physician, was in attendance, and would see her at her convenience. Plautia gave a grim kind of smile, and directed inquiry to be made who had sent the physician, and why. The answer was that it was by command of Caesar himself, who was much concerned to learn of her indisposition. He also said, that if sufficiently recovered, he would expect to see her at the Imperial supper-table.

‘Say to Caesar I am grateful for his thoughtful attention,’ said Plautia; ‘but my illness will not require a physician’s aid, and will amend itself by and by.’

Contained in the rooms was a small library of books, and to these Plautia at last turned her attention, when everything else had yielded its full amusement. She lacked the fanciful and imaginative powers which are enslaved by books. She had no resources, no world within to draw upon, like the solitary dreamer or student, who usually finds his own company the most entertaining. Her temperament was practical and her habits active. The resources of the great city, with its variety and bustle, had never failed to provide occupation to fill her time; but here, cooped in the corner of a house, on an island, the situation was wholly different, and already loomed as a serious matter.

She read for some time, and then was wearied. Her own thoughts had remained passive too long, and began to reassert themselves very actively to the subjection of her author. The book was finally tossed aside, and its reader betook herself to pacing ceaselessly and aimlessly through the rooms, with her hands behind her back and her eyes bent on the floor. She gave full rein to her thoughts, and they sought the deep-worn rut of their former fierce torrent, as naturally as the quivering needle-point seeks the pole. Her brows grew dark and heavy once more. Suddenly she shut herself up alone.

* * * * * * *

There was a brighter gleam in the air when, after a time, she came forth. The small windows, high up, seemed more radiant, and outside, in the peristyle, there was even hazy sunlight. The storm had broken. The place seemed to stifle her. Catching up a cloak she sought the garden. The heavy gale had dropped into a steady, brisk breeze, fresh, bracing, and salt. The low, hurrying pall of gray vapours had melted away, and, far overhead, the clouds were luminous. They were shredding and breaking fast into feathery masses. Here and there already peeped the deep blue of the heavens. The sea still tumbled its foamy billows far below, but, from the great elevation of the villa garden, the agitation was scarcely noticeable. It seemed like a huge plain thickly flecked with snow, across the surface of which moved gleaming halos of radiance shooting down from the sunny rifts overhead.

Plautia, on reaching the door previously described as fixed in the high wall, turned to the palace attendants and bade them bring the means to open it. They were visibly struck with embarrassment, but a tall handsome girl, who seemed to have authority over the rest, was constrained to find an answer, as the brow of the lady began speedily to blacken over. She said she would be obliged to go to the steward, having no authority herself in the matter. Plautia bade her do so, and she hurried away accordingly. Presently she returned with the reply that the steward was absent in attendance on the Emperor, and that nothing could be done until his return. Plautia turned sharp on her heel, without a word, and continued her walk.

In half an hour she was again within her room, attempting a perusal of her book. But, though her eyes rested on the letters, she never read twenty lines. Very soon she was again wandering here and there, aimlessly and wearily, under the influence of her disturbed thoughts. Presently she found herself standing before the mirror of her dressing-room, gazing at her reflected face with an unconscious and preoccupied stare. Becoming attentive, or waking up, as it were, she noticed that either the fresh breeze out-of-doors, or else the ferment of her mind, or both combined, had more than restored the rich warmth of colour which was the crown of her vivid type of beauty. Its brilliance was, perhaps, even a trifle more than customary; yet it was magnificent, and no one understood that better than herself. She drew herself up, folded her arms across her ample bosom, and smiled sidelong at herself with proud satisfaction. A new idea had possessed her, and she nodded approvingly to herself. Her black orbs sparkled with a careless, reckless light. One passion had ruled her, but that was all over. She had drunk to the dregs of the anguish which stimulates despair, and she would meet Caesar on his own ground. Wearied and harassed beyond her patience by the disappointment which poisoned her thoughts, and which was yet increased by the unaccustomed restriction and monotony of her position, she rushed from the idea of remaining passively watching. With the recklessness of a gamester who has lost all, she would go boldly forth. To act on the aggressive, with such potent weapons as her wit and beauty, would be more likely to achieve her liberty, than standing defiantly at bay in the corner of a cage. It might, moreover, bring her more than mere liberty. She knew not what fate might have in store for her; and, in truth, she cared little. At least she might calculate upon the relief of some amount of novelty and excitement. It is better to die in a dash for liberty, than to lie and rot away in a dungeon.

It was then resolved. She would recover from her indisposition, and appear at Caesar’s supper-table, wreathed with smiles and graciousness. It might be called a feminine masked reconnaissance in force.

She, therefore, caused her intention to become known to the domestics when the hour for supper approached; and through them it was conveyed to the Imperial ears. To arm herself was the next and most important business. Her own wardrobe, under the circumstances of her visit, was most humble and scanty; but, in the plentiful supply already alluded to, she had neither difficulty nor scruple in selecting an attire to her satisfaction. The protracted and minute process of the toilet completed, she stood forth brilliant, peerless, and resistless. The admiration of the women broke forth in murmurs as she swept on in the wake of Zeno and his people, who had come to marshal her to table.

* * * * * * *

From supper, at a late hour, she went back to her room triumphant. Exultation shone in her eyes, and, for a time at least, lulled the sticking pain in her heart.

Copious floods of wine flashed in Caesar’s cup, whilst his gaze was riveted on the matchless beauty of his guest. The cool-headed, temperate Prefect, whom the Emperor had purposely brought into unexpected contact with his guest, looked on and laughed in his sleeve. On Plautia, at times, he bestowed an ironical smile, the spirit of which she defined, and resented inwardly. Atticus, Flaccus, and Marinus, three devoted personal friends of the Emperor, drank their wine, gazed their fill at the superb woman, listened to her lively wit, and gave back what they could of their own, in an excited ecstasy and jauntiness of foolish middle-age. The night waxed, and the faces of the waiting slaves grew weary. But the wine still splashed into the gold goblet of Caesar, and his eyes scarce moved from the girl before him. These only betrayed him to the watchful; for his slow, cautious tongue, scarcely looser with wine, said little. The time flew on. Draught followed draught still faster, until Plautia rose to go. The pallid face of Tiberius had become gradually suffused with a faint tint of the warm floods which were pouring through his veins. His kindling eyes had begun to sparkle and blaze like a basilisk’s. The swift-witted damsel seized the moment, and, with the briefest delay, left the table and the room.

The rich jewel which had set the ring was gone. The flame in the Emperor’s eyes lacked its fuel, and quickly sank like the chilling embers of fire. His gaze became a vacant stare, and then swiftly relapsed into the glassy stupidity of intoxication: but all in complete silence. The remaining six men, after a parting cup, took their leave of their Imperial host, who made no sign in response.

One of the guests walked away from the palace, under the bright stars, with a hot brow, and tumult in his breast. The Prefect, his companion, suddenly startled the quiet night air with a loud laugh.

‘Is she not clever, my Titus? Is she not superb? Did she not play a pretty game? Ha! ha! ha! Is it not a droll world this of ours? An emperor besotted on what a poor centurion has spurned! Wouldst thou have turned a goddess adrift who had knelt to thee? O, mighty Centurion! O, poor Caesar! Was she ever so glorious as to-night? But hark you – it was false fire. I caught the spurious tone – did you not, Afer? But she was incomparable – do you not hear, my friend?’

Afer ground his teeth, and muttered something unintelligibly between his lips.

‘She was, do you say? You are insufferably dull, my friend. You have drunk too much, or not enough. It is lucky our companionship is only to be short. Here is my way! Vale! sleep off your sombre fit!’ Afer went on, but not to his bed. He burned with a fever which could not endure the cramping walls of his lodging.

The first faint, luminous gleam of dawn in the eastern sky found him watching, motionless, under the walls of the villa Jovis, and then, and not until then, he went away homeward.

CHAPTER XVIII

Some days subsequently, Plautia stood with her arms resting on the parapet of the garden wall which edged the cliffs.

Her mood was one of profound abstraction, and the fixed gaze of her eyes seemed to be unconscious of the endless beauties of the scene which lay within the scan of that giddy height. The rays of the autumn sunlight, mingling with the opal-coloured light, the deepening shades of the whispering sea, the changing tints of the mountains, and the white gleam of the cities fringing the sweep of the distant shores, were far from her mind. No sound arose to the secluded spot on high, save the mysterious murmur of nature, so favourable to an utter absorption of mind, until the grate of a human foot behind aroused her with a start. Turning round she beheld Afer standing within a few yards, gazing at her intently.

Since the banquet the manner of Plautia had become that of one quite reconciled to her situation. Nay, it rather betokened satisfaction and pleasure judging by outward manifestation. She had seemingly earned complete freedom also, since she came and went wherever and whenever she pleased, without being subjected to any galling symptom of restraint. Her apartments were free of access to whosoever chose to visit her, though these were necessarily few in number. To Tiberius himself she jestingly contrasted her later freedom with her first day’s experience. He lightly returned, that he prided himself upon the better judgment he had shown, in perceiving the unreality of her momentary dissatisfaction; and that now, since time had proved him to be right, she might call herself the Queen of Capreae, and do aught her mind might fancy, save attempt to quit the island. This he added smilingly, with the customary shake of his forefinger; but, whether it was an earnest injunction veiled in jest, Plautia had not as yet thought proper to prove.

In accordance with this disposition of affairs Afer had first presented himself at her apartments, and, by direction of her attendants, had followed her to the garden.

His cheeks seemed hollower and more drawn, and his glance was haggard and restless. For the rest, his attire and bearing were unchanged in their faultless taste and neatness. Plautia did not quit her position, but simply turned her back against the wall, with her elbows thrust behind her on the top of the stones. The grace of her splendid form was thus admirably displayed, but the posture was strongly suggestive of careless indifference. The languid gaze, and the lifeless drawl of her salutation, were even more devoid of the sense of politeness; but he, nevertheless, drew nearer to her.

‘They told me you were here, so I made bold to follow you,’ he said. ‘No wonder the evening has tempted you forth with its loveliness.’

She gave a faint yawn, and turned her glance languidly another way, in a manner distinctly rude and heedless.

His gloomy eyes flashed, and his hand clenched for a moment in anger.

‘I have interfered with your solitary enjoyment of the scene.’

‘I was thinking nothing of it,’ she replied carelessly.

‘Intent, perhaps, upon the thoughts of Rome, far away across the waters there – your eyes seemed fixed in that direction.’

‘You are mistaken.’

‘Pardon, Plautia, for having intruded myself so unpleasantly and untimely. It is all the more to be regretted, inasmuch as I sought you with the hope of your favour, having just received letters from Rome.’

‘And how could the letters of Titus Afer possibly concern me?’

‘Being discursive they might probably contain something to interest you, in the current affairs of the city we love so well.’

‘Humph!’ she said drily, with her gaze still fixed down the garden. ‘You are speaking for yourself. You are growing thin and pale, Afer, and absence from the city you love so well is trying you. You are fretting after the airy height of the Esquiline, and the view of the housetops from your own portico.’

‘You, who have left it so recently, can so far afford to mock me,’ he retorted sarcastically. ‘I will plead guilty to the charge in order not to spoil the jest.’

‘It is not worth another word.’

‘My correspondent tells me that Rome is wondering what is passing in the island here.’

‘It is not surprising in the city, when one considers the power and importance of the absentees – including yourself!’ said she.

‘Of course,’ responded Afer, growing paler; ‘nor, at the same time, must such a powerful factor in the Imperial destinies as the beauty of Plautia be omitted.’

Plautia smiled and showed her pearly teeth, and the face of the knight grew whiter than ever.

‘It seems that, surprised as the poor exiles on this island were at your appearance, the citizens are even more mystified at your disappearance there. It is totally inexplicable. Rumour says you have been stolen, murdered, and so on’ (Plautia’s smile deepened as she caught the fiercely suppressed tremor of anger in his voice); ‘or translated to the companionship of the immortals, after the fashion of old,’ he continued; ‘that is even believed in. One individual, at least, is inconsolable, frantic, desperate – mad, if you like. Searching day and night – wandering sleepless like a spectre.’

‘Only one, Afer – do they tell you of only one?’ she said ironically.

‘Only one in such sad straits,’ he responded. ‘You can guess probably who it is.’

Plautia shrugged her shoulders carelessly.

‘So may one love you and perish – O wretched example!’ he said bitterly. ‘If the miserable man could only have seen that careless shrug of your pitiless shoulders.’

‘The idiot – he has seen many such, doubtless. Am I to be answerable for the presumption of such fools?’ said she, turning her head swiftly toward him with a withering blast of scorn and contempt.

The knight’s face became like pallid marble, but, apparently impenetrable, he replied —

‘Surely not, if it be of their own cultivation. There can be no blame to you.’

‘Thanks!’

‘Nevertheless one should feel pity and not scorn; for who knows how soon the same fate may overtake oneself? Ill-starred Martialis is not the first nor the last who has suffered from misplaced infatuation.’

Her face was in profile, and his eyes scanned it keenly.

‘Of course Plautia knows I am speaking of Caius Martialis, the bosom friend of Apicius,’ he went on, with slow distinctness. ‘There is also another Martialis, his brother Lucius, a Centurion of the Pretorian guard, at present in attendance here on our worthy friend the Prefect. Do you know this one?’

‘It matters not whether I do or not; it is not worth the trouble to try and remember. I am ever grateful for your visit, your company, your entertaining conversation, which has beguiled my loneliness. And now I must bid good-night – it grows chilly.’

She roused herself from her leaning posture, and gathered up her drapery preparatory to moving off. Afer’s eyes were still riveted on her countenance. Her mocking words were easily borne after the insulting demeanour already experienced. Something like a cold smile rested on his lips as he watched her. He did not feel disposed to leave her yet. Her behaviour had stung him deeply, and the bitterness which gnawed him so grievously was too keen to be borne without the solace of retaliation. He waited a few moments until she was on the point of retiring, without any further notice of him, and then said, in a low voice —

‘It would be better worth your while than you think, Plautia, to strive to remember if the soldier-brother be amongst your acquaintance or not.’

‘Another time when I am more disposed,’ she sternly answered, beginning to descend the grassy mound on which they stood.

‘At your own gracious pleasure,’ he repined, as he leisurely followed. ‘I mentioned it, because I thought it might interest you to know, that whether the acquaintance really exist or not, there are rumours in the island of a somewhat close relationship between you.’

She stopped short, and turned round upon him – so swiftly and sharply, that the skirts and folds of her garments whirled out on the air.

‘Rumours – what rumours? What close relationship? What do you mean?’ she said, with the haughtiness of a queen to a slave.

‘Nothing, but what my words plainly convey. Let me repeat – it is said in the island that a warm friendship exists between yourself and the Centurion Martialis.’

‘And what of that? Is it not permitted to me to have warm friends as well as others?’

He gently shrugged his shoulders, and the action brought the sudden fire to her eyes and the colour to her cheeks. Noting the signs he looked down and smiled covertly, to her intense irritation.

‘Do you wish to trifle with me, Afer?’ she said, in a dangerous tone.

‘I would rather brave Tiberius himself,’ he replied, with a bow, which was lower than humility itself; ‘far from trifling, I merely alluded to that which passes current in the island; but, if it be distasteful to you, I regret I was the unlucky means of making it known.’

‘My friends are always of my choosing; I ever abide by my choice and suffer no other interference. It is true I remember to have met the younger Martialis on chance occasions in the city. It is hardly possible that it should be otherwise, since the brother haunts me like a pestilent shadow. That should all the more predispose me to increase the intimacy with the name as little as possible. The tale of the elder brother’s folly has followed even here, Afer, and the good idle Capreans have saddled it on the wrong man – the mistake is obvious.’

‘That would have been the most probable explanation doubtless, if I were sure that the idle babbling had arisen amongst the islanders themselves.’

‘Psa!’ ejaculated she, sweeping round again, as if contemptuously dropping all further thought of the subject.

She walked on a few yards with the knight following. Then she turned sharply round on her heel and confronted him again. The movement was unexpected, and she caught a smile on his lip. She stamped her foot.

‘Tell me, what this is – what it all means! Quick, man!’

‘The thorn has stuck,’ he murmured imperceptibly, as he hesitated and looked down.

‘Speak!’ continued the angry imperious tones.

‘I knew she could not rest with that prickle rankling in her mind,’ he continued inwardly; ‘now her haughtiness shall dance to my piping and pay for her insolence.’

A vehement snatch of her hand at his arm roused him.

‘Do you hear, Afer? Speak when I ask you!’

Raising his head he looked at her with provoking gravity, and his studied deliberate manner easily attained the effect he designed for it.

At no time did she appear so superb, as when her impetuous blood was stirred, and the excitement of anger glowed in her cheeks and flashed in her eyes. He gazed upon her with a double gratification, for, while his glance drank in the spectacle of her kindled beauty, his heart warmed with a savage joy of power.

Her contemptuous bearing had filled him with a devouring tumult of passions, none the less fierce, because of the powerful restraint which stifled them.

All the arts of sympathetic love and compassion may be lavished on a mind which lies numb in the chill death of its hope of hopes; but let the venom of contempt be flung upon it, from a certain eye or lip, and it straightway surges from its icy torpor with the fire and fury of deadly hate.

Above the wild passion which sickened in the heart of Afer, struggled resentment and profound indignation. He calmly looked back the flashing gaze of his companion, and a faintly mocking smile curved his lips.

‘Yes, I hear,’ he said at length; ‘of what do you wish me to speak?’

‘Of what? You are bent on provoking me. Are we not talking – did you not speak of some rumour or tavern gossip of the island at my expense?’

‘Since your appearance in Caesar’s villa, as a guest, the island is mightily interested in you, and, naturally, the tongue follows the bent of the mind. Many rumours and conjectures are doubtless rife concerning you. To which would you have me refer?’

‘You are playing with me, I repeat – you dare to do so,’ she replied; and he plainly saw the effort it cost her to speak, as she did, in a quiet tone. ‘You either know something, or nothing – to the point then, quickly.’

‘Your displeasure is so swift and heavy that it behoves me to be most prudent and cautious. Give me to understand of what I am to speak – ’

‘People call you wise and subtle, but, to me, your prudence and caution savours very much of the profound wisdom of the bird of Minerva.’

‘It is a sapient fowl which flies about in the night-time only, and, doubtless, sees many strange things in moonlight and shade,’ said he.