CHAPTER XXI.
The steward awoke soon after sunrise. He had slept no less soundly,it is true, in his arm-chair than in his bed, but he did not feelrefreshed, and his limbs ached.
In the living-room everything was in the same disorder as on theprevious evening, and this annoyed him, for he was accustomed to findhis room in order when he entered it in the morning. On the table,surrounded by flies, stood the remains of the children's supper,and among the bread crusts and plates lay his own ornaments and hisdaughter's! Wherever he turned he saw articles of dress and other thingsout of their place. The old slave-woman came in yawning, her woolly greyhair hung in disorder about her face, and her eyes seemed fixed, herfeet carried her unsteadily here and there.
"You are drunk," cried Keraunus; nor was he mistaken, for when the oldwoman had waked up, sitting by the house of Pudeus, and had learned fromthe gate keeper that Arsinoe had quitted the garden, she had gone into atavern with other slave-women. When her master seized her arm and shookher, she exclaimed with a stupid grin on her wet lips:
"It is the feast-day. Every one is free, to-day is the feast."
"Roman nonsense!" interrupted the steward. "Is my breakfast ready?"
While the old woman stood muttering some inaudible words, the slave cameinto the room and said:
"To-day is a general holiday, may I go out too?"
"Oh that would suit me admirably!" cried the steward.
"This monster drunk, Selene sick, and you running about the streets."
"But no one stops at home to-day," replied the slave timidly.
"Be off then!" cried Keraunus. "Walk about from now till midnight! Do asyou please, only do not expect me to keep you any longer. You are stillfit to turn the hand-mill, and I dare say I can find a fool to give me afew drachmae for you."
"No, no, do not sell me," groaned the old man, raising his hands inentreaty; Keraunus however would not hear him, but went on angrily:
"A dog at least remains faithful to his master, but you slaves eat himout of house and home, and when he most needs you, you want to run aboutthe streets."
"But I will stay," howled the old man.
"Nay, do as you please. You have long been like a lame horse which makesits rider a butt for the laughter of children. When, you go out withme everyone looks round as if I had a stain on my pallium. And thenthe mangy dog wants to keep holiday, and stick himself up among thecitizens!"
"I will stay here, only do not sell me!" whimpered the miserable oldman, and he tried to take his master's hand; but the steward shoved himoff, and desired him to go into the kitchen and light a fire, and throwsome water on the old woman's head to sober her. The slave pushed hiscompanion out of the room, while Keraunus went into his daughter'sbedroom to rouse her.
There was no light in Arsinoe's room but that which could creep inthrough a narrow opening just below the ceiling; the slanting rays felldirectly on the bed up to which Keraunus went. There lay his daughterin sound sleep; her pretty head rested on her uplifted right arm, herunbound brown hair flowed like a stream over her soft round shouldersand over the edge of the little bed. He had never seen the child lookso pretty, and the sight of her really touched his heart, for Arsinoereminded him of his lost wife, and it was not vain pride merely, buta movement of true paternal love, which involuntarily transformed hisearnest wish that the gods night leave him this child and let her behappy, into an unspoken but fervent prayer.
He was not accustomed to waking his daughter who was always up and busybefore he was, and he could hardly bear to disturb his darling's sweetsleep; but it had to be done, so he called Arsinoe by her name, shookher arm and said, as at last she sat up and looked at him enquiringly:
"It is I, get up, remember what has to be done today."
"Yes--yes," she said yawning, "but it is so early yet!"
"Early," said Keraunus, smiling. "My stomach says the contrary. The sunis already high, and I have not yet had my porridge."
"Make the old woman cook it."
"No, no, my child--you must get up. Have you forgotten whom you are torepresent? And my hair is to be curled, and the prefect's wife, and thenyour dress."
"Very well--go; I do not care the least bit about Roxana and all thedressing-up."
"Because you are not yet quite awake," laughed the steward. "How didthis ivy-leaf get into your hair?" Arsinoe colored, put her hand to thespot indicated by her father, and said reluctantly:
"Out of some bough or another, but now go that I may get up."
"In a minute--tell me how did you find Selene?"
"Not so very bad--but I will tell you all about that afterwards. Now Iwant to be alone."
When, half an hour later, Arsinoe brought her father his porridge hegazed at the child in astonishment. Some extraordinary change seemedto have come over his daughter. Something shone in her eyes that hehad never observed before, and that gave her childlike features animportance and significance that almost startled him. While she wasmaking the porridge, Keraunus, with the slave's help, had taken thechildren up and dressed them; now they were all sitting at breakfast;Helios among them fresh and blooming. Now, while Arsinoe told her fatherall about Selene, and the nursing she was having at dame Hannah's hands,Keraunus kept his eyes fixed on her, and when she noticed this and askedimpatiently what there was peculiar in her appearance to-day, he shookhis head and answered:
"What strange things are girls! A great honor has been done you. You areto represent the bride of Alexander, and pride and delight have changedyou wonder fully in a single night--but I think to your disadvantage."
"Folly," said Arsinoe reddening, and stretching herself with fatigue shethrew herself back on a couch. She did not feel weary exactly, for thelassitude she felt in every limb had a peculiar pleasure in it. She feltas if she had come out of a hot bath, and since her father had rousedher she seemed to hear, again and again, the sound of the inspiritingmusic which she had followed arm in arm with Pollux. Now and again shesmiled, now and again she gazed straight before her, and at the sametime she said to herself that if at this very moment her lover were toask her, she would not lack strength to fling herself at once, with him,once more into the mad whirl. Yes--she felt perfectly fresh! only hereyes burned a little; and if Keraunus fancied he saw anything new inhis daughter it must be the glowing light which now lurked in them alongwith the playful sparkle he had always seen there.
When breakfast was over the slave took the children out, and Arsinoe hadbegun to curl her father's hair, when Keraunus put on his most dignifiedattitude and said ponderously.
"My child."
The girl dropped the heated tongs and calmly asked. "Well"--fullyprepared to hear one of the wonderful propositions which Selene was wontto oppose.
"Listen to me attentively."
Now, what Keraunus was about to say had only occurred to him an hoursince when he had spoiled his slave's desire to go out; but as he saidit he pressed his hand to his forehead assuming the expression of ameditative philosopher.
"For a long time I have been considering a very important matter. Now Ihave come to a decision and I will confide it to you. We must buy a newmanslave."
"But father!" cried Arsinoe, "think what it will cost you. If we haveanother man to feed--"
"There is no question of that," replied Keraunus. "I will exchange theold one for a younger one that I need not be ashamed to be seen with.Yesterday I told you that henceforth we shall attract greater attentionthan hitherto, and really if we appear with that black scarecrow at ourheels in the streets or elsewhere--"
"Certainly we cannot make much show Sebek," interrupted Arsinoe, "but wecan leave him at home for the future."
"Child, child!" exclaimed Keraunus reproachfully, "will you neverremember who and what we are. How would it beseem us to appear in thestreets without a slave?"
The girl shrugged her shoulders, and put it to her father that Sebek wasan old piece of family property, that the little ones were fond of himbecause he cared for them like a nurs
e, that a new slave would cost agreat deal and would only be driven by force to many services which theold one was always ready and willing to fulfil.
But Arsinoe preached to deaf ears. Selene was not there; secure from herreproaches and as anxious as a spoiled boy for the thing that was deniedhim, Keraunus adhered to his determination to exchange the faithful oldfellow for a new and more showy slave. Not for a moment did he think ofthe miserable fate that threatened the decrepit creature, who had grownold in his house, if he were to sell him; but he still had a feelingthat it was not quite right to spend the last money that had chanced tocome into the house, on a thing that really and truly was not in any waynecessary. The more justifiable Arsinoe's doubts seemed to be andthe more loudly did an inward voice warn him not to offer this freshsacrifice to his vain-gloriousness, the more firmly and desperately didhe defend his wish to do so; and as he fought for the thing he desired,it acquired in his eyes a semblance of necessity and a number of reasonssuggested themselves which made it appear both justifiable and easy ofattainment.
There was money in hand; after Arsinoe's being chosen for the part ofRoxana he might expect to be able to borrow more; it was his duty toappear with due dignity that he might not scare off the illustriousson-in-law of whom he dreamed, and in the extremity of need he couldstill fall back on his collection of rarities. The only thing was tofind the right purchaser; for, if the sword of Antony had brought himso much, what would not some amateur give him for the other, far morevaluable, objects.
Arsinoe turned red and white as her father referred again and again tothe bargain she had made; but she dared not confess the truth, and sherued her falsehood all the more bitterly the more clearly she saw withher own sound sense, that the Honor which had fallen upon her yesterday,threatened to develop all her father's weaknesses in an absolutely fatalmanner.
To-day she would have been amply satisfied with pleasing Pollux, and shewould, without a regret have transferred to another her part withall the applause and admiration it would procure her, and which, onlyyesterday, had seemed to her so inestimably precious. This she said; butKeraunus would not take the assertion in earnest, laughed in her face,went off into mysterious allusions to the wealth which could not fail tocome into the house and--since an obscure consciousness told him thatit would be becoming him to prove that it was not solely personal vanityand self-esteem that influenced all his proceedings--he explained thathe had made up his mind to a great sacrifice and would be content on thecoming occasion to wear his gilt fillet and not buy a pure gold one.By this act of self-denial he fancied he had acquired a full right todevote a very pretty little sum to the acquisition of a fine-lookingslave. Arsinoe's entreaties were unheeded, and when she began to crywith grief at the prospect of losing her old house-mate he forbid hercrossly to shed a tear for such a cause, for it was very childish,and he would not be pleased to conduct her with red eyes to meet theprefect's wife.
During the course of this argument his hair had got itself duly curled,and he now desired Arsinoe to arrange her own hair nicely and then toaccompany him.
They would buy a new dress and peplum, go to see Selene, and then becarried to the prefect's.
Only yesterday he had thought it too bold a step to use a litter, andto-day he was already considering the propriety of hiring a chariot.
No sooner was he alone than a new idea occurred to him. The insolentarchitect should be taught that he was not the man to be insulted andinjured with impunity. So he cut a clean strip of papyrus off a letterthat lay in his chest, and wrote upon it the following words:
"Keraunus, the Macedonian, to Claudius Venator, the architect, of Rome:"
"My eldest daughter, Selene, is by your fault, so severely hurt that sheis in great danger, is kept to her bed and suffers frightful pain.My other children are no longer safe in their father's house, and Itherefore require you, once more, to chain up your dog. If you refuse toaccede to this reasonable demand I will lay the matter before Caesar.I can tell you that circumstances have occurred which will determineHadrian to punish any insolent person who may choose to neglect therespect due to me and to my daughters."
When Keraunus had closed this letter with his seal he called the slaveand said coldly:
"Take this to the Roman architect, and then fetch two litters; makehaste, and while we are out take good care of the children. To-morrow ornext day you will be sold. To whom? That must depend on how you behaveduring the last hours that you belong to us." The negro gave a loud cryof grief that came from the depth of his heart, and flung himself onthe ground at the steward's feet. His cry did indeed pierce his master'ssoul--but Keraunus had made up his mind not to let himself be moved norto yield. But the negro clung more closely to his knees, and when thechildren, attracted to the spot by their poor old friend's lamentation,cried loudly in unison, and little Helios began to pat and stroke thelittle remains of the negro's woolly hair, the vain man felt uneasyabout the heart, and to protect himself against his own weakness hecried out loudly and violently:
"Now, away with you, and do as you are ordered or I will find the whip."
With these words he tore himself loose from the miserable--old man wholeft the room with his head hanging down, and who soon was standing atthe door of the Emperor's rooms with the letter in his hand. Hadrian'sappearance and manner had filled him with terror and respect, and hedared not knock at the door. After he had waited for some time, stillwith tears in his eyes, Mastor came into the passage with the remainsof his master's breakfast. The negro called to him and held out thesteward's letter, stammering out lamentably:
"From Keraunus, for you master."
"Lay it here on the tray," said the Sarmatian. "But what has happened toyou, my old friend? you are wailing most pitifully and look miserable.Have you been beaten?"
The negro shook his head and answered, whimpering: "Keraunus is going tosell me."
"There are better masters than he."
"But Sebek is old, Sebek is weak--he can no longer lift and pull, andwith hard work he will certainly die."
"Has life been so easy and comfortable then at the steward's?"
"Very little wine, very little meat, very much hunger," said the oldman.
"Then you must be glad to leave him."
"No, no," groaned Sebek.
"You foolish old owl," said Mastor. "Why do you care then for thatgrumpy niggard?"
The negro did not answer for some time, then his lean breast heavedand fell, and, as if the dam were broken through that had choked hisutterance, he burst out with a mixture of loud sobs:
"The children, the little ones, our little ones. They are so sweet;and our little blind Helios stroked my hair because I was to go away,here--just here he stroked it"--and he put his hand on a perfectly baldplace--"and now Sebek must go and never see them all again, just as ifthey were all dead."
And the words rolled out and with difficulty, as if carried on in theflood of his tears. They went to Mastor's heart, rousing the memoryof his own lost children and a strong desire to comfort his unhappycomrade.
"Poor fellow!" he said, compassionately. "Aye, the children! they are sosmall, and the door into one's heart is so narrow--and they dance in atit a thousand times better and more easily than grown-up folks. I, too,have lost dear children, and they were my own, too. I can teach anyone what is meant by sorrow--but I know too now where comfort is to befound." With these words Mastor held the tray he was carrying on his hipwith his right hand, while he put the left on the negro's shoulder andwhispered to him:
"Have you ever heard of the Christians?"
Sebek nodded eagerly as if Mastor were speaking of a matter of which hehad heard great things and expected much, and Mastor went on in a lowvoice "Come early to-morrow before sunrise to the pavement-workers inthe 'court, and there you will hear of One who comforts the weary andheavy-laden."
The Emperor's servant once more took his tray in both hands and hurriedaway, but a faint gleam of hope had lighted up in the old slave's eyes.He expected no
happiness, but perhaps there might be some way of bearingthe sorrows of life more easily.
Mastor as soon he had given his tray to the kitchen slaves--who were nowbusy again in the palace at Lochias--returned to his lord and gave himthe steward's letter. It was an ill-chosen hour for Keraunus, for theEmperor was in a gloomy mood. He had sat up till morning, had restedscarcely three hours, and now, with knitted brows, was comparing theresults of his night's observation of the starry sky with certainastronomical tables which lay spread out before him. Over this work hefrequently shook his head which was covered with crisp waves ofhair; nay--he once flung the pencil, with which he was working hiscalculations, down on the table, leaned back in his seat and covered hiseyes with both hands. Then again he began to write fresh numbers, buthis new results seemed to be no more satisfactory than the former one.
The steward's letter had been for a long time lying before him when atlast it again caught his attention as he put out his hand for anotherdocument. Needing some change of ideas he tore it open, read it andflung it from him with annoyance. At any other time he would haveexpressed some sympathy with the suffering girl, have laughed at theridiculous man, and have thought out some trick to tease or to terrify;but just now the steward's threats made him angry and increased hisdislike for him.
Tired of the silence around him he called to Antinous, who sat gazingdreamily down on the harbor; the youth immediately approached hismaster. Hadrian looked at him and said, shaking his head:
"Why you too look as if some danger were threatening you. Is the skyaltogether overcast?"
"No my lord, it is blue over the sea, but towards the south the blackclouds are gathering."
"Towards the south?" said Hadrian thoughtfully. "Any thing serious canhardly threaten us from that quarter.--But it comes, it is near, it isupon us before we suspect it."
"You sat up too long, and that has put you out of tune."
"Out of tune?" muttered Hadrian to himself. "And what is tune? Thatsubtle harmony or discord is a condition which masters all the emotionsof the soul at once; and not without reason--to-day my heart isparalyzed with anxiety."
"Then you have seen evil signs in the heavens?"
"Direful signs!"
"You wise men believe in the stars," replied Antinous. "No doubt youare right, but my weak head cannot understand what their regular courseshave to do with my inconstant wanderings."
"Grow gray," replied the Emperor, "learn to comprehend the universe withyour intellect, and not till then speak of these things for not tillthen will you discern that every atom of things created, and thegreatest as well as the least, is in the closest bonds with every other;that all work together, and each depends on all. All that is or everwill be in nature, all that we men feel, think or do, all is dependenton eternal and immutable causes; and these causes have each their Daimonwho interposes between us and the divinity and is symbolized in goldencharacters on the vault of heaven. The letters are the stars, whoseorbits are as unchanging and everlasting as are the first causes of allthat exists or happens."
"And are you quite sure that you never read wrongly in this greatrecord?" asked Antinous.
"Even I may err," replied Hadrian. "But this time I have not deceivedmyself. A heavy misfortune threatens me. It is a strange, terrible andextraordinary coincidence!"
"What?"
"From that accursed Antioch--whence nothing good has ever come to me--Ihave received the saying of an oracle which foretells that, that--whyshould I hide it from you--in the middle of the year now about to beginsome dreadful misfortune shall fall upon me, as lightning strikes thetraveller to the earth; and tonight--look here. Here is the house ofDeath, here are the planets--but what do you know of such things? Lastnight--the night in which once before such terrors were wrought, thestars confirmed the fatal oracle with as much naked plainness, as muchunmistakable certainty as if they had tongues to shout the evil forecastin my ear. It is hard to walk on with such a goal in prospect. What maynot the new year bring in its course?"
Hadrian sighed deeply, but Antinous went close up to him, fell on hisknees before him and asked in a tone of childlike humility:
"May I, a poor foolish lad, teach a great and wise man how to enrich hislife with six happy months?" The Emperor smiled, as though he knew whatwas coming, but his favorite felt encouraged to proceed.
"Leave the future to the future," he said. "What must come will come,for the gods themselves have no power against Fate. When evil isapproaching it casts its black shadow before it; you fix your gaze onit and let it darken the light of day. I saunter dreamily on my wayand never see misfortune till it runs up against me and falls upon meunawares--"
"And so you are spared many a gloomy day," interrupted Hadrian.
"That is just what I would have said."
"And your advice is excellent, for you and for every other loitererthrough the gay fair-time of an idle life," replied the Emperor, "butthe man whose task it is to bear millions in safety and over abysses,must watch the signs around him, look out far and near, and never dareclose his eyes, even when such terrors loom as it was my fate to seeduring the past night."
As he spoke, Phlegon, the Emperor's private secretary, came in withletters just received from Rome, and approached his master. He bowedlow, and taking up Hadrian's last words he said:
"The stars disquiet you, Caesar?"
"Well, they warn me to be on my guard," replied Hadrian.
"Let us hope that they be," cried the Greek, with cheerful vivacity."Cicero was not altogether wrong when he doubted the arts of Astrology."
"He was a mere talker!" said the Emperor, with a frown.
"But," asked Phlegon, "would it not be fair that if the horoscopes castfor Cneius or Caius, let us say, were alike, to expect that Cneius orCaius must have the same temperament and the same destiny through lifeif they had happened to be born in the same hour?"
"Always the old commonplaces, the old silly objections!" interruptedHadrian, vexed to the verge of rage. "Speak when you are spoken to, anddo not trouble yourself about things you do not understand and which donot concern you. Is there anything of importance among these papers?"
Antinous gazed at his sovereign in astonishment; why should Phlegon'sobjections make him so furious when he had answered his so kindly?
Hadrian paid no farther heed to him, but read the despatches one afteranother, hastily but attentively, wrote brief notes on the margins,signed a decree with a firm hand, and, when his work was finisheddesired the Greek to leave him. Hardly was he alone with Antinous whenthe loud cries and jovial shouting of a large multitude came to theirears through the open window.
"What does this mean?" he asked Mastor, and as soon as he had beeninformed that the workmen and slaves had just been let out to givethemselves up to the pleasures of their holiday, he muttered to himself:
"These creatures can riot, shout, dress themselves with garlands, forgetthemselves in a debauch--and I, I whom all envy--I spoil my briefspan of life with vain labors, let myself be tormented with consumingcares--I--" here he broke off and cried in quite an altered tone:
"Ha! ha! Antinous, you are wiser than I. Let us leave the future to thefuture. The feast-day is ours too; let us take advantage of this dayof freedom. We too will throw ourselves into the holiday whirlpooldisguised, I as a satyr, and you as a young faun or something of thekind; we will drain cups, wander round the city and enjoy all that isenjoyable."
"Oh!" exclaimed Antinous, joyfully clapping his hands.
"Evoe Bacche!" cried Hadrian, tossing up his cup that stood on histable. "You are free till this evening, Mastor, and you my boy, go andtalk to Pollux, the sculptor. He shall be our guide and he will provideus with wreaths and some mad disguise. I must see drunken men, I mustlaugh with the jolliest before I am Caesar again. Make haste, my friend,or new cares will come to spoil my holiday mood."