Chapter XIII
What Befell at Baiae
I
Cornelia was at Baiae, the famous watering-place, upon the classicNeapolitan bay,--which was the Brighton or Newport of the Roman. Herewas the haunt of the sybarites, whose gay barks skimmed the shallowwaters of the Lucrine lake; and not far off slumbered in its volcanichollow that other lake, Avernus, renowned in legend and poetry,through whose caverns, fable had it, lay the entrance to the world ofthe dead. The whole country about was one city of stately villas, ofcool groves, of bright gardens; a huge pleasure world, where freedomtoo often became license; where the dregs of the nectar cup too oftenmeant physical ruin and moral death.
Cornelia had lost all desire to die now. She no longer thought ofsuicide. Lentulus's freedmen held her in close surveillance, but shewas very happy. Drusus lived, was safe, would do great things, wouldwin a name and a fame in the world of politics and arms. For herselfshe had but one ambition--to hear men say, "This woman is the wife ofthe great Quintus Drusus." That would have been Elysium indeed.Cornelia, in fact, was building around her a world of sweet fantasy,that grew so real, so tangible, that the stern realities of life,realities that had hitherto worn out her very soul, became lessgalling. The reaction following the collapse of the plot againstDrusus had thrown her into an unnatural cheerfulness. For the time theone thought when she arose in the morning, the one thought when shefell asleep at night, was, "One day," or "One night more is gone, ofthe time that severs me from Quintus." It was a strained, an unhealthycheerfulness; but while it lasted it made all the world fair forCornelia. Indeed, she had no right--from one way of thinking--not toenjoy herself, unless it be that she had no congenial companions. Thevilla of the Lentuli was one of the newest and finest at Baiae. Itrested on a sort of breakwater built out into the sea, so that thewaves actually beat against the embankment at the foot of Cornelia'schamber. The building rose in several stories, each smaller than theone below it, an ornamental cupola highest of all. On the successiveterraces were formally plotted, but luxuriant, gardens. Cornelia, fromher room in the second story, could command a broad vista of the bay.Puteoli was only two miles distant. Vesuvius was ten times as far; butthe eye swept clear down the verdant coast toward Surrentum to thesouthward. At her feet was the sea,--the Italian, Neapolitansea,--dancing, sparkling, dimpling from the first flush of morning tothe last glint of the fading western clouds at eve. The azure aboveglowed with living brightness, and by night the stars and planetsburned and twinkled down from a crystalline void, through which theunfettered soul might soar and soar, swimming onward through the sweetdarkness of the infinite.
And there were pleasures enough for Cornelia if she would jointherein. Lentulus had ordered his freedmen not to deny her amusements;anything, in fact, that would divert her from her morbid infatuationfor Drusus. The consul-designate had indeed reached the conclusionthat his niece was suffering some serious mental derangement, or shewould not thus continue to pursue a profitless passion, obviouslyimpossible of fulfilment. So Cornelia had every chance to make herselfa centre to those gay pleasure-seekers who were still at Baiae; for thesummer season was a little past, and all but confirmed or fashionableinvalids and professional vacationers were drifting back to Rome. Fora time all went merrily enough. Just sufficient of the LuciusAhenobarbus affair had come to the Baiaeans to make Cornelia the objectof a great amount of curiosity. When she invited a select number ofthe pleasure-seekers to her dinner parties, she had the adulation andplaudits of every guest, and plenty of return favours. LuciusAhenobarbus soon had a score of hot rivals; and Cornelia's pretty facewas chipped on more than one admirer's seal ring. But presently itbegan to be said that the niece of the consul-designate was anextremely stoical and peculiar woman; she did not enjoy freedom whichthe very air of Baiae seemed to render inevitable. She never lacked witand vivacity, but there was around her an air of restraint and coldmodesty that was admirable in every way--only it would never do inBaiae. And so Cornelia, without ceasing to be admired, became lesscourted; and presently, quite tiring of the butterfly life, was thrownback more and more on herself and on her books. This did not disturbher. A levee or a banquet had never given her perfect pleasure; and itwas no delight to know that half the women of Baiae hated her with aperfect jealousy. Cornelia read and studied, now Greek, now Latin; andsometimes caught herself half wishing to be a man and able to expounda cosmogony, or to decide the fate of empires by words flung down fromthe rostrum. Then finally Agias came bringing Artemisia, who, as hasbeen related, was introduced--by means of some little contriving--intothe familia as a new serving-maid. Such Artemisia was in name; butCornelia, whose gratitude to Agias had known no bounds, took thelittle thing into her heart, and determined to devote herself toinstructing an innocence that must not continue too long, despite itscharming naivete.
Thus the days had passed for Cornelia. But only a little while afterAgias left for Rome,--with a very large packet of letters forDrusus,--the pleasant, self-created world of fantasy, that had givenCornelia some portion of happiness, vanished. Like a clap of thunderfrom a cloudless sky Lucius Ahenobarbus suddenly arrived in Baiae. Hewas tired of Rome, which was still very hot and uncomfortable. Heloathed politics, they were stupid. He had lost a boon companion whenPublius Gabinius was driven into outlawry. Marcus Laeca was too deeplyin debt to give any more dinners. Pratinas was fled to Egypt. And sohe had come to Baiae, to harass Cornelia by his presence; to gibe ather; and assure her that her uncle was more determined than ever thatshe should marry him--say and do what she might.
Ahenobarbus quartered himself in the Lentulan villa as the prospectivenephew-in-law of its owner. He brought with him his customary train ofunderlings, and had travelled in appropriate state, in a litter witheight picked bearers, lolling on a cushion stuffed with rose-leaves,and covered with Maltese gauze, one garland on his head, another roundhis neck, and holding to his nose a smelling-bag of small-meshed linenfilled with roses.
With all his effeminacy, he was beyond the least doubt desperatelydetermined to possess himself of Cornelia. His passion was purelyanimal and unrefined, but none could doubt it. Cornelia feared to havehim near her, and knew peace neither day nor night. He assumed all amaster's rights over the slaves and freedmen, sending them hither andyon to do his bidding. He had recovered from the fear Cornelia hadstruck into him, in her first defiance, and met her threats andhauteur with open scorn.
"You are a most adorable actress!" was his constant sneer. And hisevery action told that he did not intend to let Cornelia play with hima second time. With all his profligacy and moral worthlessness, he hada tenacity of purpose and an energy in this matter that showed thateither Cornelia must in the end bow to his will, or their contestwould end in something very like a tragedy.
And if a tragedy, so be it, was the desperate resolve of Cornelia;whose eyes were too stern for tears when she saw that Lucius was stillthe former creature of appetite; full of intrigue, sweethearts,seashore revels, carouses, singing, and music parties and waterexcursions with creatures of his choice from morning until midnight.She could not altogether shun him, though she successfully resistedhis half blandishments, half coercion, to make her join in his wildfrivolities. One revenge she found she could take on him--a revengethat she enjoyed because it proclaimed her own intellectualsuperiority, and made Ahenobarbus writhe with impotent vexation--shehad him at her mercy when they played at checkers;[133] and at lastLucius lost so much money and temper at this game of wit, not chance,that he would sulkily decline a challenge. But this was poorconsolation to Cornelia. The time was drifting on. Before many daysLentulus Crus and Caius Clodius Marcellus would be consuls, and theanti-Caesarians would be ready to work their great opponent's undoing,or be themselves forever undone. Where was Drusus? What was he doing?What part would he play in the struggle, perhaps of arms, about tobegin? O for one sight of him, for one word! And the hunger inCornelia's breast grew and grew.
[133] _Latrunculi_.
Many are our wishes. Some flit through o
ur hearts like birds dartingunder the foliage of trees, then out again, lost in the sunshine;others linger awhile and we nestle them in our bosoms until we forgetthat they are there, and the noble desire, the craving for somethingdear, for something that bears for us as it were a divine image, isgone--we are the poorer that we no longer wish to wish it. But somethings there are--some things too high or too deep for speech, toosecret for really conscious thought, too holy to call from theinnermost shrines of the heart; and there they linger and hover,demanding to be satisfied, and until they are satisfied there is voidand dreariness within, be the sunshine never so bright without. And soCornelia was a-hungered. She could fight against herself to saveDrusus's life no longer; she could build around herself her dreamcastles no more; she must see him face to face, must hold his hand inhers, must feel his breath on her cheek.
Is it but a tale that is told, that soul can communicate to distantsoul? That through two sundered hearts without visible communicationcan spring up, unforewarned, a single desire, a single purpose? Isthere no magnetism subtle beyond all thought, that bounds from spiritto spirit, defying every bond, every space? We may not say; but ifCornelia longed, she longed not utterly in vain. One morning, as shewas dressing, Cassandra, who was moving around the room aiding hermistress, let fall a very tiny slip of papyrus into Cornelia's lap,and with it a whisper, "Don't look; but keep it carefully." Theinjunction was needed, for several other serving-women were in theroom, and Cornelia more than suspected that they were ready to spy onher to prevent unauthorized correspondence with Drusus. When she wasdressed, and could walk alone on the terrace overlooking the sea, sheunrolled the papyrus and read:--
"Delectissima, I have come from Rome to Puteoli. I cannot live longerwithout seeing you. Great things are stirring, and it may well be thatere long, if your uncle and his friends have their way, I may be aproscribed fugitive from Italy, or a dead man. But I must talk withyour dear self first. Agias was known by the familia, and had nodifficulty in seeing you quietly; but I have no such facility. Icannot remain long. Plan how we may meet and not be interrupted. Ihave taken Cassandra into my pay, and believe that she can be trusted._Vale_."
There was no name of the sender; but Cornelia did not need toquestion. Cassandra, who evidently knew that her mistress wouldrequire her services, came carelessly strolling out on to the terrace.
"Cassandra," said Cornelia, "the last time I saw Quintus, you betrayedus to my uncle; will you be more faithful now?"
The woman hung down her head.
"_A!_ domina, your uncle threatened me terribly. I did notintentionally betray you! Did I not receive my beating? And thenMaster Drusus is such a handsome and generous young gentleman."
"I can rely on you alone," replied Cornelia. "You must arrangeeverything. If you are untrue, be sure that it is not I who will inthe end punish, but Master Drusus, whose memory is long. You have moreschemes than I, now that Agias is not here to devise for me. You mustmake up any stories that are necessary to save us from interruption,and see that no one discovers anything or grows suspicious. My handsare tied. I cannot see to plan. I will go to the library, and leaveeverything to you."
And with this stoical resolve to bear with equanimity whatever theFates flung in her way for good or ill, Cornelia tried to bury herselfin her Lucretius. Vain resolution! What care for the atomic theorywhen in a day, an hour, a moment, she might be straining to her heartanother heart that was reaching out toward hers, as hers did towardit. It was useless to read; useless to try to admire the varyingshades of blue on the sea, tones of green, and tones of deep cerulean,deepening and deepening, as her eye drifted off toward the horizon,like the blendings of a chromatic series. And so Cornelia passed themorning in a mood of joyful discontent. Lucius Ahenobarbus, who cameto have his usual passage of arms with her, found her so extremelyaffable, yet half-preoccupied, that he was puzzled, yet on the wholedelighted. "She must be yielding," he mentally commented; and whenthey played at draughts, Cornelia actually allowed herself to bebeaten. Ahenobarbus started off for Puteoli in an excellent humour.His litter had barely swung down the road from the villa beforeCassandra was knocking at her mistress's chamber door.
"_Io!_ domina," was her joyful exclamation, "I think I have got everyeavesdropper out of the way. Ahenobarbus is off for Puteoli. I havecooked up a story to keep the freedmen and other busybodies off. Youhave a desperate headache, and cannot leave the room, nor see any one.But remember the terrace over the water, where the colonnade shuts itin on all sides but toward the sea. This afternoon, if a boat with twostrange-looking fishermen passes under the embankment, don't besurprised."
And having imparted this precious bit of information, the woman wasoff. Drusus's gold pieces had made her the most successful ofschemers.
II
Cornelia feigned her headache, and succeeded in making herself sothoroughly petulant and exacting to all her maids, that when sheordered them out of the room, and told them on no account to disturbher in any respect for the rest of the day, they "rejoiced withtrembling," and had no anxiety to thrust their attentions upon sounreasonable a mistress. And a little while later a visit of astrolling juggler--whose call had perhaps been prompted byCassandra--made their respite from duty doubly welcome.
Cornelia was left to herself, and spent the next hour in a division oflabour before her silver wall-mirror, dressing--something which wassufficiently troublesome for her, accustomed to the services of a bevyof maids--and at the window, gazing toward Puteoli for thefishing-boat that seemed never in sight. At last the toilet wascompleted to her satisfaction. Cornelia surveyed herself in her bestsilken purple flounced stola, thrust the last pin into her hair, andconfined it all in a net of golden thread. Roman maidens were not as arule taught to be modest about their charms, and Cornelia, withperfect frankness, said aloud to herself, "You are so beautiful thatDrusus can't help loving you;" and with this candid confession, shewas again on the terrace, straining her eyes toward Puteoli. Boatscame, boats went, but there was none that approached the villa; andCornelia began to harbour dark thoughts against Cassandra.
"If the wretched woman had played false to her mistress again--" butthe threat was never formulated. There was a chink and click of a pairof oars moving on their thole-pins. For an instant a skiff was visibleat the foot of the embankment; two occupants were in it. The boatdisappeared under the friendly cover of the protecting sea-wall of thelower terrace. There was a little landing-place here, with a few stepsleading upward, where now and then a yacht was moored. The embankmentshut off this tiny wharf from view on either side. Cornelia dared notleave the upper terrace. Her heart beat faster and faster. Below sheheard the slap, slap, of the waves on the sea-wall, and a rattle ofrings and ropes as some skiff was being made fast. An instant more andDrusus was coming, with quick, athletic bounds, up the stairway to thesecond terrace. It was he! she saw him! In her eyes he was everythingin physique and virile beauty that a maiden of the Republic coulddesire! The bitterness and waiting of months were worth theblessedness of the instant. Cornelia never knew what Drusus said toher, or what she said to him. She only knew that he was holding her inhis strong arms and gazing into her eyes; while the hearts of bothtalked to one another so fast that they had neither time nor need forwords. They were happy, happy! Long it was before their utterancepassed beyond the merest words of endearment; longer still before theywere composed enough for Cornelia to listen to Drusus while he gavehis own account of Mamercus's heroic resistance to Dumnorix's gang atPraeneste; and told of his own visit to Ravenna, of his intenseadmiration for the proconsul of the two Gauls; and of how he had cometo Puteoli and opened communications with Cassandra, through Cappadox,the trusty body-servant who in the guise of a fisherman was waiting inthe boat below.
"And as Homer puts it, so with us," cried Cornelia, at length: "'Andso the pair had joy in happy love, and joyed in talking too, and eachrelating; she, the royal lady, what she had endured at home, watchingthe wasteful throng of suitors; and he, high-born Odysseus, whatmiseries he b
rought on other men, and bore himself in anguish;--all hetold, and she was glad to hear.'"
So laughed Cornelia when all their stories were finished, likeningtheir reunion to that of the son of Laertes and the long-faithfulPenelope.
"How long were Penelope and Odysseus asunder?" quoth Drusus.
"Twenty years."
"_Vah!_ We have not been sundered twenty months or one-third as many.How shall we make the time fly more rapidly?"
"I know not," said Cornelia, for the first time looking down andsighing, "a lifetime seems very long; but lifetimes will pass. I shallbe an old woman in a few years; and my hair will be all grey, and youwon't love me."
"_Eho_," cried Drusus, "do you think I love you for your hair?"
"I don't know," replied Cornelia, shaking her head, "I am afraid so.What is there in me more than any other woman that you should love;except--" and here she raised her face half-seriously, half inplay--"I am very beautiful? Ah! if I were a man, I would havesomething else to be loved for; I would have eloquence, or strength,or power of command, or wisdom in philosophy. But no, I can be lovedfor only two things; an ignoble or a poor man would take me if I werehideous as Atropos, for I am noble, and, if my uncle were an honestguardian, rich. But you need not regard these at all, so--" and shebrushed her face across Drusus's cheek, touching it with her hair.
"O Cornelia," cried the young man, out of the fulness of his heart,"we must not waste this precious time asking why we love each other.Love each other we do as long as we view the sun. O carissima! wecannot trust ourselves to look too deeply into the whys and whereforesof things. We men and women are so ignorant! We know nothing. What isall our philosophy--words! What is all our state religion--empty form!What is all our life--a dream, mostly evil, that comes out of theeternal unconscious sleep and into that unconscious sleep will return!And yet not all a dream; for when I feel your hands in mine I knowthat I am not dreaming--for dreamers feel nothing so delicious asthis! Not long ago I recalled what old Artabanus said to King Xerxeswhen the millions of Persia passed in review before their lord atAbydos, 'Short as our time is, death, through the wretchedness of ourlife, is the most sweet refuge of our race; and God, who gives ustastes that we enjoy of pleasant times, is seen, in His very gift, tobe envious.' And I thought, 'How wise was the Persian!' And then Ithought, 'No, though to live were to drag one's days in torture and inwoe, if only love come once into life, an eternity of misery isendurable; yes, to be chained forever, as Prometheus, on drearestmountain crag, if only the fire which is stolen be that which kindlessoul by soul.'"
"Ah!" cried Cornelia, "if only these were to be real souls! But whatcan we say? See my Lucretius here; read: 'I have shown the soul to beformed fine and to be of minute bodies and made up of much smallerfirst-beginnings than the liquid air, or mist, or smoke. As you seewater, when the vessels are shattered, flow away on every side, and asmist and smoke vanish away into the air, believe that the soul, too,is shed abroad, and perishes much more quickly and dissolves soonerinto its first bodies, when once it has been taken out of the limbs ofa man and has withdrawn.' O Quintus, is the thing within me that lovesyou lighter, more fragile, than smoke? Shall I blow away, and vanishinto nothingness? It is that which affrights me!"
And Drusus tried as best he might to comfort her, telling her therewas no danger that she or he would be dissipated speedily, and thatshe must not fret her dear head with things that set the sagestgreybeards a-wrangling. Then he told her about the political world,and how in a month at most either every cloud would have cleared away,and Lentulus be in no position to resist the legal claims which Drusushad on the hand of his niece; or, if war came, if fortune but favouredCaesar, Cornelia's waiting for deliverance would not be for long.Drusus did not dwell on the alternative presented if civic strife cameto arms; he only knew that, come what might, Cornelia could never bedriven to become the bride of Lucius Ahenobarbus; and he had no needto exact a new pledge of her faithful devotion.
So at last, like everything terrestrial that is sweet and lovely, theslowly advancing afternoon warned Drusus that for this day, at least,they must separate.
"I will come again to-morrow, or the next day, if Cassandra can soarrange," said he, tearing himself away. "But part to-night we must,nor will it make amends to imitate Carbo, who, when he was being ledto execution, was suddenly seized with a pain in the stomach, andbegged not to be beheaded until he should feel a little better."
He kissed her, strained her to his breast, and stepped toward thelanding-place. Cappadox had taken the boat out from the moorings tominimize a chance of discovery by some one in the house. Drusus wasjust turning for a last embrace, when many voices and the plash ofoars sounded below. Cornelia staggered with dread.
"It's Ahenobarbus," she gasped, in a deathly whisper; "he sometimescomes back from Puteoli by boat. He will murder you when he finds youhere!"
"Can't I escape through the house?"
The words, however, were no sooner out of Drusus's mouth, than LuciusAhenobarbus, dressed in the most fashionably cut scarlet lacerna,perfumed and coiffured to a nicety, appeared on the terrace. Some evilgenius had led him straight up without the least delay.
It was the first time that the two enemies had met face to face sinceDrusus had declined the invitation to Marcus Laeca's supper. Be it saidto Lucius's credit that he sensed the situation with only the minimumof confusion, and instantly realized all of Cornelia's worst fears.Drusus had drawn back from the steps to the lower terrace, and stoodwith stern brow and knotted fist, trapped by a blunder that couldhardly have been guarded against, no submissive victim to what fatehad in store. Cornelia, for once quite distraught with terror, coweredon a bench, unable to scream through sheer fright.
"_Salve!_ amice," was the satirical salutation of Ahenobarbus. "Howexcellently well met. _Heus!_ Phaon, bring your boatmen, quick! Not aninstant to lose!"
"Pity! mercy!" gasped Cornelia, "I will do anything for you, but sparehim;" and she made as if to fall on her knees before Ahenobarbus.
"Girl!" Drusus had never spoken in that way to her before; his toneswere cold as ice. "Go into the house! Your place is not here. IfLucius Ahenobarbus intends to murder me--"
The boatmen and two or three other slaves that were always atAhenobarbus's heels were crowding up on to the terrace ready to dotheir master's bidding.
"Throw me that fellow over the balcony," ordered Lucius, his sense oftriumph and opportunity mastering every fear that Flaccus wouldexecute his threat of prosecution. "See that he does not float!"
Cornelia found her voice. She screamed, screamed shrilly, and ran intothe house. Already the familia was alarmed. Two or three freedmen ofLentulus were rushing toward the terrace. They were murdering Quintus!He was resisting, resisting with all the powers of a wild animaldriven to its last lair. Outside, on the terrace, where but an instantbefore she and her lover were cooing in delicious ecstasy, there wereoaths, blows, and the sharp pants and howls of mortal struggle. Andshe could do nothing--nothing! And it was through his love for herthat Drusus was to go down to his untimely grave! The seconds ofstruggle and anguish moved on leaden feet. Every breath was agony,every sound maddening. And she could do nothing--nothing. Still theywere fighting. Phaon--she knew his voice--was crying out as if ingrievous pain. And now the voice of Lucius Ahenobarbus sounded again:"One thousand denarii if you fling him into the sea!" and she could donothing--nothing! She tore down the purple tapestries around her bed,and dashed from its tripod a costly bowl of opal Alexandrianglass--all in the mere rage of impotence. And still they werefighting. What was that ornament hanging on the wall, half hid behindthe torn tapestry? A scabbard--a sword, some relic of ancient wars!And all the combatants were unarmed! The antique weapon was held bystout thongs to the wall; she plucked it from its fastenings with thestrength of a Titaness. The rusty blade resisted an instant; shedragged it forth. Then out on to the terrace. Really only a moment hadelapsed since she left it. One of the slaves was lying dead, orstunned, prone on the turf. Phaon was writhin
g and howling beside him,nursing a broken jaw. The other assailants had sunk back in temporaryrepulse and were preparing for a second rush. Drusus was stillstanding. He half leaned upon the stone pedestal of an heroic-sizedAthena, who seemed to be spreading her protecting aegis above him. Hisgarments were rent to the veriest shreds. His features were hiddenbehind streaming blood, his arms and neck were bruised and bleeding;but clearly his adversaries could not yet congratulate themselves thatthe lion's strength was too sapped to be no longer dreaded.
"Come, you," was his hot challenge to Lucius Ahenobarbus, who stood,half delighted, half afraid, shivering and laughing spasmodically, ashe surveyed the struggle from a safe distance. "Come, you, and haveyour share in the villany!"
And again, for it was all the affair of the veriest moment, the slavesrushed once more on their indocile victim. "Freedom to the man whopulls him down!" was the incentive of Ahenobarbus.
But again Drusus, who, to tell the truth, had to contend with only theflabby, soft-handed, unskilful underlings of Lucius, struck out sofuriously that another of his attackers fell backward with a groan anda gasp. All this Cornelia saw while, sword in hand, she flew towardthe knot of writhing men. She pushed aside the slaves by sheer force.She asked no civilities, received none.
"Pull her away!" shouted Lucius, and started himself to accomplish hispurpose. A rude hand smote her in the face; she staggered, fell; butas she fell a hand snatched the sword out of her grasp. She releasedher hold gladly, for did she not know that hand? When she rose to herfeet there were shrieks of fear and pain on every side. The slaveswere cringing in dread before him. Drusus was standing under theAthena, with the keen steel in his hand--its blade dyed crimson; andat his feet lay Ahenobarbus's favourite valet--the wretch literallydisembowelled by one deadly stroke.
"Fly, fly!" she implored; "they will bring arms! They will never letyou escape."
"I'll pay you for letting him kill Croesus," howled Lucius, facinghimself resolutely toward his enemy. "How can he fly when the house isfull of servants, and his boat is away from the landing? You giveyourself trouble for no purpose, my lady! Lentulus's people will behere with swords in a moment!"
But as he spoke a blow of some unseen giant dashed him prostrate, andupon the terrace from below came Cappadox, foaming with anxious rage,his brow blacker than night, his brawny arms swinging a heavy paddlewith which he clubbed the cowering slaves right and left.
"Have they killed him! Have the gods spared him!" These two demandscame bounding in a breath from the honest servant's lips. And when hesaw Drusus, bleeding, but still standing, he rushed forward to flinghis arms about his master's neck.
"Fly! fly!" urged Cornelia, and out of the building, armed now withswords and staves, came flocking the freedmen of the house and as manyslaves as they could muster.
"_Salve!_ carissima," and Drusus, who never at the instant gavethought to the blood all over him, pressed her in one last kiss. Hegained the terrace steps by a single bound ahead of his armedattackers. Cappadox smote down the foremost freedman with a buffet ofthe oar. Ahenobarbus staggered to his feet as Drusus sprang over him,and the latter tore a packet of tablets from his hand, never stoppingin his own flight.
Then down on to the little landing-place pursuers and pursued tumbled.The large six-oared boat of Ahenobarbus was moored close besideCappadox's skiff.
Drusus was into the skiff and casting loose before Lucius coulddescend from the upper terrace. The young Domitian was in a terribledistress.
"The letters! The letters! Freedom to you all if you save them! Castoff! Chase! Sink the skiff!"
But before any of the unskilful assailants could execute the order,Cappadox had driven the butt of his paddle clean through the bottomplanking of the larger boat, and she was filling rapidly. The paddleshivered, but it was madness to embark on the stoven craft.
The skiff shot away from the landing as though an intelligent soul,rising equal to the needs of the crisis. The blue dancing water lappedbetween her gunwale and the shore. Drusus stood erect in the boat,brushed back the blood that was still streaming over his eyes, andlooked landward. The slaves and freedmen were still on the landing,gazing blankly after their escaped prey. Ahenobarbus was pouring outupon their inefficiency a torrent of wrathful malediction, thatpromised employment for the "whipper" for some time to come. ButDrusus gave heed to none of these things. Standing on the upperterrace, her hair now dishevelled and blowing in tresses upon thewind, was Cornelia, and on her all her lover's gaze was fixed.
"Safe?" and the melodious shout drifted out over the widening stretchof water.
"Safe! to live and to love!" And Drusus thought, with his keen lover'seye, he could see the dimming face brighten, and the hands go up in agesture of thanksgiving.
It was all that was said. Another boat might be procured at any timeby Lucius Ahenobarbus; and with only one paddle Cappadox could makebut slow headway. Stiff and bruised, the young man flung himself onthe bottom of the skiff, and panted and nursed himself after hismortal struggle. Now that the combat was over he felt weak and soreenough, and was quite content to let Cappadox adjust such improvisedbandages as were available, and scull him toward Puteoli. Fortunatelynone of the bruises was caused by any harder weapons than fists, and,though his body was black and blue, he had sustained no serious hurt.And so he rested his head on a wrap, and closed his eyes, and calledup before his mind the vision of Cornelia. How beautiful she had beenwhen he met her! How much more beautiful when she thrust her waythrough the fighting slaves and put the sword in his hand, at thatmoment of mortal combat, which he expected to be his last! Did he onlylove her because her face was sweet, her voice was sweet, and thetouch of her hair was sweet? Happy was he, her lover;--he could say"no," and have never a fear that his sincerity would be tested. AndLucius Ahenobarbus? He hated him with a perfect hatred. A Roman whowas no Roman! A womanish man whom every true woman must despise! Aserpent who had not even the bright scales of a serpent! What would hedo to Cornelia? Drusus's face grew hard. Had he, Drusus, yet done anyinjury worth mentioning to his enemy? Why had he not used the momentwhen Lucius lay prostrate, and run the sword through his body?Ill-timed, thoughtless mercy! But the letters, the packet he hadwrenched from Ahenobarbus's hand? Why was it so precious? Drusus hadflung it into the boat. He took up the packet. Doubtless some_billet-doux_. Why should he degrade his mind by giving an instant'sthought to any of his enemy's foul intrigues? He could only open hiseyes with difficulty, but a curiosity that did not add to hisself-esteem overmastered him. The seal! Could he believe hissenses--the imprint of three trophies of victory? It was the seal ofPompeius! The instinct of the partisan and politician conquered everyinfirmity. He broke the wax, untied the thread, and opened. Theletters were in cipher, and at first sight illegible. But this did notpresent any insuperable difficulty. Most classic ciphers weresufficiently simple to be solved without very much trouble. Drususknew that in all Caesar's correspondence a cipher had been used whichconsisted merely of substituting for each letter the fourth letterbeyond it, as D for A; and a little examination showed that thepresent cryptogram was made on the same rude method. After a fewguesses he struck the proper substitutions, and was able to read.
"Pompeius Magnus, Imperator, to the most excellent Lucius DomitiusAhenobarbus, Rome, tenth day before the Calends of January. If it iswell with you, it is well; I am well.[134] I write to warn you that weare told that Quintus Drusus, your personal enemy and the friend ofour own foes, is in Campania. We need not add more, for we trust toyou to see to it that he stirs up no faction in favour of his masterin those parts. Be assured that you will not be long troubled by thisenemy. He is marked out as one of the earliest of those to pay withtheir lives for their conspiracy against the Republic. If possible seethat Drusus is seized for some alleged offence, and lodged in prisonuntil the new consuls come into office. After that time he can worklittle or no mischief. Use the uttermost endeavours in this matter;check him and his schemes at all hazards. I trust your energy andprudence, which your fat
her and Lentulus Crus assure me will not fail._Vale!_"
[134] _Si vales bene est ego valeo_, written commonly simply S. V. B. E. E. V.
Drusus lay back in the bottom of the boat, and looked up into the bluedome. It was the same azure as ever, but a strange feeling ofdisenchantment seemed to have come over him. For the first time herealized the deadly stakes for which he and his party were playingtheir game. What fate had been treasured up for him in the impendingchaos of civil war? If he perished in battle or by the executioner'saxe, what awaited Cornelia? But he had chosen his road; he wouldfollow it to the end. The battle spirit mounted in him.
The sky was darkening when the boat drew up to one of the busy quaysof Puteoli. Stars had begun to twinkle. Cappadox aided his bruised andstiffened master to disembark.
"To-night rest," cried Drusus, forgetting all his wounds. "To-morrowaway to Rome. And at Rome--the war of the Gods and the Giants!"