CHAPTER XIII.
When Verus entered the palace Hadrian had returned thither but a fewminutes previously from the city. The praetor was conducted through thereception-rooms to the private apartments, and here he had not long towait, for Hadrian wished to speak with him immediately. He found thesovereign so thoroughly out of tune that he could not think of invitinghim to his banquet. The Emperor restlessly paced the room while Verusanswered his questions as to the latest proceedings of the Senate inRome, but he several times interrupted his walk and gazed into theadjoining room.
Just as the praetor had concluded his report Argus set up a howl ofdelight and Antinous came into the room. Verus at once withdrew into thewindow and pretended to be absorbed in looking out on the harbor.
"Where have you been?" asked the Emperor, disregarding the praetor'spresence.
"Into the city a little way," was the Bithynian's answer.
"But you know I cannot bear to miss you when I come home."
"I thought you would have been longer absent."
"For the future arrange so that I may be able to find you at whatevertime I may seek you. Tell me, you do not like to see me vexed andworried?"
"No, my lord," said the lad and he raised a supplicating hand and lookedbeseechingly at his master.
"Then let it pass. But now for something else; how did this little phialcome into the hands of the dealer Hiram?" As he spoke the Emperor tookfrom his table the little bottle of Vasa Murrhina which the lad hadgiven to Arsinoe and which she had sold to the Phoenician, and held itup before the favorite's eyes. Antinous turned pale, and stammeredin great confusion. "It is incomprehensible--I cannot in the leastrecollect--"
"Then I will assist your memory," said the Emperor decidedly. "ThePhoenician appears to me to be an honester man than that rogue Gabinius.In his collection, which I have just been to see, I found this gem, thatPlotina--do you hear me, boy--that Trajan's wife Plotina, my heart'sfriend, never to be forgotten, gave me years ago. It was one of mydearest possessions and yet I thought it not too precious to give to youon your last birthday."
"Oh, my lord, my dear lord!" cried Antinous in a low tone and againlifting his eyes and hands in entreaty.
"Now, I ask you," continued Hadrian, gravely, and without allowinghimself to yield to the lad's beseeching looks, "how could this objecthave passed into the possession of one of the daughters of the wretchedpalace-steward Keraunus from whom Hiram confessed that he had boughtit?"
Antinous vainly strove for utterance; Hadrian however came to his aid byasking him more angrily than before:
"Did the girl steal it from you? Out with the truth!"
"No, no," replied the Bithynian quickly and decidedly. "Certainly not.I remember--wait a minute--yes, that was it.--You know it containedexcellent balsam, and when the big dog threw down Selene--the steward'sdaughter is called Selene--threw her down the steps so that she lay hurton the stones I fetched the phial and gave her the balsam."
"With the bottle that held it?" asked the Emperor looking at Antinous.
"Yes, my lord--I had no other."
"And she kept it and sold it at once."
"You know, of course, her father--"
"A gang of thieves!" snarled Hadrian.
"Do you know what has become of the girl?"
"Yes my lord," said Antinous trembling with alarm. "I will have hertaken by the lictors," asserted the infuriated sovereign.
"No," said the lad positively. "No, you positively must not do that."
"No--? we shall see!"
"No, positively not, for at the same time you must know that Keraunus'daughter Selene--"
"Well?"
"She flung herself into the water in despair; yes, into the water, atnight--into the sea."
"Oh!" said Hadrian more gently, "that certainly alters the case. Thelictors would find it difficult to apprehend a shade and the girl hassuffered the worst punishment of all.--But you? what shall I say to yourperfidy? You knew the value of the gem. You knew how highly I valued it,and could part with it to such hands?"
"It contained the salve," stammered the boy. "How could I think--?"
The Emperor interrupted the boy, striking his forehead with his hand ashe spoke:
"Aye, think--we have known unfortunately too long that thinking is notyour strong point. This little bottle has cost me a pretty sum; still,as it once belonged to you I give it back to you again; I only requireyou to take better care of it this time. I shall ask for it again beforelong! But in the name of all the gods, boy, what is the matter? Am I soalarming that a simple question from me is enough to drive all the bloodout of your cheeks? Really and truly, if I had not had the thing fromPlotina I should have left it in the Phoenician's hands and not havemade all this coil about it."
Antinous went quickly up to the Emperor to kiss his hand, but Hadrianpressed his lips to his brow with fatherly affection.
"Simpleton," he said, "if you want me to be pleased with you, you mustbe again just what you were before we came to Alexandria. Leave it toothers to do things to vex me. You are created by the gods to delightme."
During Hadrian's last words a chamberlain had entered the room to informthe Emperor that the deputation of the Egyptian priesthood had arrivedto do homage to him. He immediately assumed the purple mantle andproceeded to the hall of the Muses where, surrounded by his court, hereceived the high-priests and spiritual fathers of the different templesof the Nile Valley, to be hailed by them as the Son of Sun-god, and toassure them and the religion they cherished his gracious countenance.He vouchsafed his consent to their prayer that he would add sanctity andhappiness to the temples of the immortals which they served by gracingthem with his presence, but set aside for the moment the question asto which town might be permitted to have the care of therecently-discovered Apis.
This audience took up several hours. Verus shirked the duty of attendingit with Titianus and the other dignitaries of the court, and remainedsitting motionless by the window; it was not till Hadrian was gone fromthe room that he came forward into it again. He was quite alone, forAntinous had left the room with the Emperor. The praetor's remainingbehind had not escaped the lad's notice, but he sought to avoid him, forthe domineering, mocking spirit of Verus repelled him. Besides this theterror which he had gone through, as well as the consciousness that hehad been guilty of a lie and had daringly deceived his kind master, hadupset a soul hitherto untainted by any subterfuge and had thrown himoff his balance. He longed to be alone, for it would have been keenlypainful to him at this moment to discuss indifferent subjects, or to beforced to affect an easy demeanor. He sat in his little room, before atable, with his face buried in his hands that rested on it.
Verus did not immediately follow him, for he understood what was passingin his mind and knew that here he could not escape him. In a few minutesall was still alike in the large room and in the small one. Then thepraetor heard the door between the smaller room and the corridor hastilyopened and immediately the Bithynian's exclamation:
"At last, Mastor--have you seen Selene?"
With two long, noiseless steps Verus went close to the door leading intothe adjoining room, and listened for the slave's answer, though a lesssharp ear than that of the praetor might have heard every syllable.
"How should I have seen her?" asked the Sarmatian sharply. "She is stillsuffering and in bed. I gave your flowers to the deformed girl who takescare of her; but I will not do it again, you may rely upon it, not ifyou coax even more fondly than you did yesterday and promise me allCaesar's treasure into the bargain! And what can you want with thatwretched, pale-faced, innocent creature? I am but a poor slave, but Ican tell you this--"
Here the Sarmatian broke off abruptly, and Verus rightly guessed thatAntinous had remembered his presence in the Emperor's room and hadsigned to the slave to be silent.
But the listener had learnt enough. The favorite had told his master alie, and the suicide of the steward's daughter was a pure romance. Whowould have believed that the sil
ent, dreamy lad had so much presence ofmind, and such cunning powers of invention? The praetor's handsome facewas radiant with satisfaction as he made these reflections, for now hehad the Bithynian under his thumb, and now he knew how to accomplish allhe wished. Antinous himself had indicated the right course when he hadhastened to the Emperor with a gush of tenderness, in which the warmthwas certainly not affected, to kiss his hand.
The favorite loved his master, and Verus could ground his demands onthis love without exposing himself, or having to dread the Emperor'savenging hand in case of betrayal. He knocked at the door of theadjoining room with a firm hand, and then went confidently andcomposedly up to the Bithyman, told him that he had an important matterto discuss with him, begged him to return with him into the Emperor'sroom and then said, as soon as they were alone together:
"I am so unfortunate as not to be able to number you among my particularfriends; but one strong sentiment we have in common. We both loveCaesar."
"I love him, certainly," replied the lad.
"Well then, you must have it at heart to spare him all great sorrow, andto prevent grave apprehensions from paralyzing the pinions of his freeand noble soul."
"No doubt."
"I knew I should find a colleague in you. See this roll. It contains thecalculations and diagrams of the greatest astrologer of our time, andfrom these it is to be discovered that this night, from the end of thesecond hour of the morning till the beginning of the fourth, the starswill announce fearful disasters to our Sovereign. Do you understand?"
"Alas! perfectly."
"After that the indications of evil disappear. Now if we could onlysucceed in preventing Hadrian observing the heavens merely duringthe third hour after midnight we should preserve him from trouble andanxiety, which will torment and spoil his life. Who knows whether thestars may not be? But even if they tell the truth, misfortune, when itdoes come, always comes much too soon. Do you agree with me?"
"Your suggestion sounds a very sensible one--still I think--"
"It is both sensible and wise," said the praetor, shortly and decidedly,interrupting the boy. "And it must be your part to hinder Hadrianfrom marking the course of the stars from the end of the second to thebeginning of the fourth hour after midnight."
"My part?" cried Antinous, startled.
"Yours--for you are the only person who can accomplish it."
"I?" repeated the Bithynian, greatly perturbed. "I--disturb Caesar inhis observations!"
"It is your duty."
"But he never allows any one to disturb him at his studies, and if Iwere to attempt it he would be very angry and send me off in no time.No, no, what you ask is impossible."
"It is not only possible but imperatively necessary."
"That it certainly cannot be," replied Antinous, clasping his foreheadin his hand. "Only listen! Hadrian has known for several days past thatsome great misfortune threatens him. I heard it from his own lips. Ifyou know him at all you must know that he gazes at the stars not merelyto rejoice in future happiness, but also to fortify himself against thedisasters which threaten him or the state. What would crush a weaker manonly serves to arm his bold spirit. He can bear all that may befall, andit would be a crime to deceive him."
"To cloud his heart and mind would be a greater," retorted Verus."Devise some means of taking him away from his star-gazing for only anhour."
"I dare not, and even if I wished it, it could not be done. Do yousuppose he follows me whenever I call?"
"But you know him; invent something which will be sure to make him comedown from his watchtower."
"I cannot invent or think of any thing."
"Nothing?" asked Verus, going close tip to the Bithynian. "You just nowgave striking proof to the contrary."
Antinous turned pale and the praetor went on:
"When you wanted to rescue the fair Selene from the lictors your swiftinvention threw her into the sea!"
"She did throw herself in, as truly as that the gods--"
"Stay, stay," cried the praetor. "No perjury, at least! Selene isliving, you send her flowers, and if I should think proper to conductHadrian to the house of Paulina--"
"Oh!" cried Antinous lamentably enough, and grasping the Roman's hand."You will not--you can not. Oh Verus! you will not do that."
"Simpleton," laughed the praetor, slapping the alarmed youth lightlyon the shoulder. "What good could it do me to ruin you? I have onlyone thing at heart just now, and that is to save Caesar from care andanxiety. Keep him occupied only during the third hour after midnightand you may count on my friendship; but if out of fear or ill-will yourefuse me your assistance you do not deserve your sovereign's favor andthen you will compel me--"
"No more, no more!" cried Antinous interrupting his tormentor indespair.
"Then you promise me to carry out my wish?"
"Yes, by Hercules! Yes, what you require shall be done. But eternalgods! how am I to get Caesar--"
"That, my young friend, I leave with perfect confidence to you and yourshrewdness."
"I am not shrewd--I can devise nothing," groaned the lad.
"What you could do out of terror of your master you can do still betterfor love of him," retorted the praetor. "The problem is an easy one; andif after all you should not succeed I shall feel it no less than myduty to explain to Hadrian how well Antinous can take care of his owninterests and how badly of his master's peace of mind. Till to-morrow,my handsome friend--and if for the future you have flowers to send, myslaves are quite at your service."
With these words the praetor left the room, but Antinous stood likeone crushed, pressing his brow against the cold porphyry pillar by thewindow. What Verus required of him did not seem to have any harm in it,and yet it was not right. It was treason to his noble master, whomhe loved with tender devotion as a father, a wise, kind friend, andpreceptor, and whom he reverenced and feared as though he were a god. Toplot to hide impending trouble from him, as if he were not a man buta feeble weakling, was absurd and contemptible, and must introduce anerror of unknown importance and extent into his sovereign's far-seeingpredeterminations. Many other reasons against the praetor's demandscrowded on him, and as each occurred to his mind he cursed his tardyspirit which never let him see or think the right thing till it was toolate. His first deceit had already involved him in a second.
He hated himself; he hit his forehead with his fists and sobbed aloudbitterly again and again, though he shed no tears. Still, in the midstof his self-accusation, the flattering voice made itself heard in hissoul: "It is only to preserve your master from sorrow, and it is nothingwrong that you are asked to do." And each time that his inward ear heardthese words he began to puzzle his brain to discover in what way itmight be possible for him to tempt the Emperor, at the hour named, downfrom his watch-tower in the palace. But he could hit on no practicableplan.
"It cannot be done, no--it cannot be done!" he muttered to himself andthen he asked himself if it were not even his duty to defy the praetorand to confess to Hadrian that he had deceived him in the morning. Ifonly it had not been for the little bottle! Could he ever confess thathe had heedlessly parted with this gift of all others from his master?No, it was too hard, it might cost him his sovereign's affection forever. And if he contented himself with a half-truth and confessed,merely to anticipate the praetor's accusation, that Selene was stillliving, then he would involve the daughters of the hapless Keraunus inpersecution and disgrace Selene whom he loved with all the devotion ofa first passion, which was enhanced and increased by the hindrancesthat had come in its way. It was impossible to confess his guilt-quiteimpossible. The longer he thought, tormenting himself to find some wayout of it all, the more confused he became, and the more impotent hisefforts at resistance. The praetor had entangled him with thongs andmeshes, and at every struggle to escape they only seemed knotted moreclosely round him.
His head began to ache sadly; and what an endless time Caesar wasabsent! He dreaded his return, and yet he longed for it. When at lastHadri
an came in and signed to Master to relieve him of his imperialrobes, Antinous slipped behind him, and silently and carefully fulfilledthe slave's office. He felt uneasy and worried, and yet he forcedhimself to appear in good spirits during supper when he had to sitopposite the Emperor.
When, shortly before midnight, Hadrian rose from the table to go up tothe watch-tower on the northern side of the palace, Antinous begged tobe allowed to carry his instruments for him, and the Emperor, strokinghis hair, said kindly:
"You are my dear and faithful companion. Youth has a right to go astraynow and then so long as it does not entirely forget the path in which itought to tread."
Antinous was deeply touched by these words, and he secretly pressed tohis lips a fold of the Emperor's toga as he walked in front. It was asthough he wanted to make amends in advance for the crime he had not yetcommitted.
Wrapped in his cloak he kept the Emperor silent company during hisstudies, till the close of the first hour after midnight. The sharp,north wind which blew through the darkness did his aching head good, andstill he racked his wits for some pretext to attract Hadrian from hislabors, but in vain. His tormented brain was like a dried-up well;bucket after bucket did he send down, but not one brought up therefreshing draught he needed. Nothing--nothing could he think ofthat could conduce to his end. Once he plucked up courage and saidimploringly as he went close up to the Emperor: "Go down earlierto-night my lord; you really do not allow yourself enough rest and willinjure your health."
Hadrian let him speak, and answered kindly:
"I sleep in the morning. If you are tired, go to bed now."
But Antinous remained, gazing, like his master, at the stars. He knewvery few of the brilliant bodies by their names, but some of them werevery dear to him, particularly the Pleiades which his father had pointedout to him and which reminded him of his home. There he had been soquiet and happy, and how wildly his anxious heart was throbbing now!
"Go to bed, the second hour is beginning," said Hadrian.
"Already!" said the boy; and as he reflected how soon that must bedone which Verus had required of him, and then looked up again at theheavens, it seemed to him as though all the stars in the blue vaultover his head had glided from their places and were dancing in wild andwhirling confusion between the sky and the sea. He closed his eyes inhis bewilderment; then, bidding his master good-night he lighted a torchand by its flaring and doubtful light descended from the tower.
Pontius had erected this slight structure expressly for Hadrian'snightly observations. It was built of timber and Nile-mud and stoodup as a tall turret on the secure foundation of an ancient watch-towerbuilt of hewn stone, which, standing among the low buildings that servedas storehouses for the palace, commanded a free outlook over all thequarters of the sky. Hadrian, who liked to be alone and undisturbed whenobserving the heavens, had preferred this erection--even after he hadmade himself known to the Alexandrians--to the great observatory of theSerapeum, from which a still broader horizon was visible.
After Antinous had got out of the smaller and newer tower into thelarger and older one he sat down on one of the lowest steps to collecthis thoughts and to quiet his loudly-beating heart. His vain cogitationsbegan all over again. Time slipped on-between the present moment andthe deed to be done there were but a certain number of minutes. He toldhimself so, and his weary brain stirred more actively, suggesting to himto feign illness and bring the Emperor to his bedside. But Hadrian wasphysician enough to see that he was well, and even if he should allowhimself to be deceived, he, Antinous, was a deceiver. This thoughtfilled him with horror of himself and with dread for the future, andyet it was the only plan that gave any hope of success. And even when hesprang to his feet and walked hastily up and down among the out-houseshe could hit upon no other scheme. And how fast the minutes flew!The third hour after midnight must be quite close at hand, and he hadscarcely left himself time to rush back into the palace, throw himselfon his couch, and call Mastor. Quite bewildered with agitation andtottering like a drunken man he hastened back into the old tower wherehe had left his torch leaning against the wall and looked up the stonestairs; it suddenly flashed through his mind that he might go up againto fling himself down them. What did he care for his miserable life.
His fall, his cry, would bring the Emperor down from his observatory andhe knew that he would not leave his bleeding favorite uncared for anduntended he could count upon that. And if then Hadrian watched by hisbed it would be that, perhaps, of a dying man, but not of a deceiver.Fully determined on extreme measures, he tightened the girdle which heldhis chiton above his hips and once more went out into the night to judgeby the stars what hour it was. He saw the slender sickle of the waningmoon-the same moon which at the full had been mirrored in the sea whenhe had gone into the water to save Selene. The image of the pale girlrose before him, tangibly distinct. He felt as if he held her once morein his arms--saw her once more lying on her bed-could once more presshis lips to her cold brow. Then the vision vanished; instead he waspossessed by a wild desire to see her, and he said to himself that hecould not die without having seen her once more.
He looked about him in indecision. Before him lay one of the largest ofthe storehouses that surrounded the tower. With his torch in one handhe went in at the open door. In the large shed lay the chests and cases,the hemp, linseed, straw and matting that had been used in packing thevessels and works of art with which the palace had been newly furnished.This he knew; and now, looking up at the stars once more and seeingthat the second hour after midnight had almost run to an end, a fearfulthought flashed through his mind, and without daring to consider, heflung the torch into the open shed, crammed to the roof with inflammablematerials, and stood motionless, with his arms crossed, to watch throughthe door of the shed the rapidly spreading flame, the soaring smoke, thestruggle and mingling of the noiseless wreaths of black vapor from thevarious combustibles with the ruddy light, the victory of the fire andthe leaping flames as they flew upward.
The roof, thatched with palm-leaves and reeds, had begun to cracklewhen Antinous rushed into the tower only a few paces off crying:"Fire--fire!" and up the stairs which led to the observatory of theimperial stargazer.