Caesar Dies - Talbot Mundy
"Taken from the prisoner," he reported. "It was hidden beneath his
tunic. He looks desperate enough to kill himself, so I left two men to
keep an eye on him."
The centurion scratched his chin again, his mouth half-open.
"Whom do you propose to visit in the palace?" he demanded.
"Marcia," said Narcissus.
The centurion turned to the decurion.
"Go you with him. Hand him over to the hall-attendants. Bid them pass
him from hand to hand into Marcia's presence. Don't return until you
have word he has reached her."
To all intents and purposes a prisoner, Narcissus was marched along the
mosaic pavement of a bronze-roofed colonnade, whose marble columns
flanked the approach to the palace steps. Drenched guards, posted near
the eaves where water splashed on them clanged their shields in darkness
as the decurion passed; there was not a square yard of the palace
grounds unwatched.
There was a halt beside the little marble pavilion near the palace
steps, where the decurion turned Narcissus over to an attendant in
palace uniform, but no comment; the palace was too used to seeing
favorites of one day in disgrace the next.
Within the palace there was draughtily lighted gloom, a sensation of
dread and mysterious restlessness. The bronze doors leading to the
emperor's apartments were shut and guards posted outside them who
demanded extremely definite reasons for admitting any one; even when
the centurion's message was delivered some one had to be sent in first
to find out whether Marcia was willing, and for nearly half an hour
Narcissus waited, biting his lip with impatience.
When he was sent for at last, and accompanied in, he found Marcia,
Pertinax and Galen seated unattended in the gorgeous, quiet anteroom
next to the emperor's bedchamber. The outer storm was hardly audible
through the window-shutters, but there was an atmosphere of impending
climax, like the hush and rumble that precedes eruptions.
Marcia nodded and dismissed the attendant who had brought Narcissus.
There was a strained look about her eyes, a tightening at the corners of
the mouth. Her voice was almost hoarse:
"What is it? You bring bad news, Narcissus! What has happened?"
"Sextus has been arrested by the main gate guard!"
Galen came out of a reverie. Pertinax bit at his nails and looked
startled; worry had made him look as old as Galen, but his shoulders
were erect and he was very splendid in his jeweled full dress. None
spoke; they waited on Marcia, who turned the news over in her mind a
minute.
"When? Why?" she asked at last.
"He proposed I should smuggle him in, that he might be of service to
you. He was stormy-minded. He said Rome may need a determined man
tonight. But the centurion of the guard recognized him--knew he is
Maternus. He refused to summon the commander. Sextus is locked in a
cell, and there is no knowing what the guards may do to him. They may
try to make him talk. Please write and order him released."
"Yes, order him released," said Pertinax.
But Marcia's strained lips flickered with the vestige of a smile.
"A determined man!" she said, her eyes on Pertinax. "By morning a
determined man might give his own commands. Sextus is safe where he is.
Let him stay there until you have power to release him! Go and wait in
the outer room, Narcissus!"
Narcissus had no alternative. Though he could sense the climax with the
marrow of his bones, he did not dare to disobey. He might have rushed
into the emperor's bedroom to denounce the whole conspiracy and offer
himself as bodyguard in the emergency. That might have won Commodus'
gratitude; it might have opened up a way for liberating Sextus. But
there was irresolution in the air. And besides, he knew that Sextus
would reckon it a treason to himself to be made beholden for his life to
Commodus, nor would he forgive betrayal of his friends, Pertinax, and
Marcia and Galen.
So Narcissus, who cared only for Sextus, reckoning no other man on earth
his friend, went and sat beyond the curtains in the smaller, outer room,
straining his ears to catch the conversation and wondering what tragedy
the gods might have in store. As gladiator his philosophy was mixed of
fatalism, cynical irreverence, a semi-military instinct of obedience,
short-sightedness and self-will. He reckoned Marcia no better than
himself because she, too, was born in slavery--and Pertinax not vastly
better than himself because he was a charcoal-burner's son. But it did
not enter his head just then that he might be capable of making history.
Marcia well understood him. Knowing that he could not escape to confer
with the slaves in the corridor, because the door leading to the
corridor from the smaller anteroom was locked, she was at no pains to
prevent his overhearing anything. He could be dealt with either way, at
her convenience; a reward might seal his lips, or she could have him
killed the instant that his usefulness was ended, which was possibly not
yet.
"Sextus," she said, "must be dealt with. Pertinax, you are the one who
should attend to it. As governor of Rome you can--"
"He is thoroughly faithful," said Pertinax. "He has been very useful to
us."
"Yes," said Marcia, "but usefulness has limits. Time comes when wine
jars need resealing, else the wine spills. Galen, go in and see the
emperor."
Galen shook his head.
"He is a sick man," said Marcia. "I think he has a fever."
Galen shook his head again.
"I will not have it said I poisoned him."
"Nonsense! Who knows that you mixed any poison?"
"Sextus, for one," Galen answered.
"Dea dia! There you are!" said Marcia. "I tell you, Pertinax, your
Sextus may prove to be another Livius! He has been as ubiquitous as the
plague. He knows everything. What if he should turn around and secure
himself and his estates by telling Commodus all he knows? It was you
who trusted Livius. Do you never learn by your mistakes?"
"We don't know yet what Livius has told," said Pertinax. "If he had
been tortured--but he was not. Commodus slew him with his own hand. I
know that is true; it was told me by the steward of the bedchamber, who
saw it, and who helped to dispose of the body. Commodus swore that such
a creeping spy as Livius, who could be true to nobody but scribbled,
scribbled, scribbled in a journal all the scandal he could learn in
order to betray anybody when it suited him, was unfit to live. I take
that for a sign that Commodus has had a change of heart. It was a manly
thing to slay that wretch."
"He will have a change of governors of Rome before the day dawns!"
Marcia retorted. "If it weren't that he might change his mistress at
the same time--"
"You would betray me--eh?" Pertinax smiled at her tolerantly.
"No," said Marcia, "I would let you have your own way and be executed!
You deserve it, Pertinax." Pertinax stood up and paced the floor with
hands behind him.
"I will have my own way. I will have it, Marcia!" he said, calmly,
coming to a stand in front of her. "He who plots against his emperor
may meet the like fate! If Commodus has no designs against me, then I
harbor none against him. I am not sure I am fitted to be Caesar. I
have none to rally to me, to rely on, except the praetorian guard, which
is a two-horned weapon; they could turn on me as easily and put a man
of their own choosing on the throne. And furthermore, I don't wish to
be Caesar. Glabrio, for instance, is a better man than I am for the
task. I will only consent to your desperate course, for the sake of
Rome, if you can prove to me that Commodus designs a wholesale massacre.
And even so, if your name and Galen's and mine are not on his
proscription list--if he only intends, that is, to punish Christians and
weaken the faction of that Carthaginian Severus, I will observe my oath
of loyalty. I will counsel moderation but--"
"You are less than half a man without your mistress!" Marcia exploded.
"Don't stand trying to impress me with your dignity. I don't believe in
it! I will send for Cornificia."
"No, no!" Pertinax showed instant resolution. "Cornificia shall not be
dragged in. The responsibility is yours and mine. Let us not lessen
our dignity by involving an innocent woman."
For a moment that made Marcia breathless. She was staggered by his
innocence, not his assertion of Cornificia's--bemused by the man's
ability to believe what he chose to believe, as if Cornificia had not
been the very first who plotted to make him Caesar. Cornificia more
than any one had contrived to suggest to the praetorian guard that their
interest might best be served some day by befriending Pertinax; she
more than any one had disarmed Commodus' suspicion by complaining to him
about Pertinax' lack of self-assertiveness, which had become Commodus'
chief reason for not mistrusting him. By pretending to report to
Commodus the private doings of Pertinax and a number of other important
people, Cornificia had undermined Commodus' faith in his secret
informers who might else have been dangerous.
"Your Cornificia," Marcia began then changed her mind. Disillusionment
would do no good. She must play on the man's illusion that he was the
master of his own will. "Very well," she went on, "Yours be the
decision! No woman can decide such issues. We are all in your hands--
Cornificia and Galen--all of us--aye, and Rome, too--and even Sextus and
his friends. But you will never have another such opportunity. It is
tonight or never, Pertinax!"
He winced. He was about to speak, but something interrupted him. The
great door carved with cupids leading to the emperor's bedchamber opened
inch by inch and Telamonion came out, closing it softly behind him.
"Caesar sleeps," said the child, "and the wind blew out the lamp. He was
very cross. It is dark. It is cold and lonely in there."
In his hand he held a sheet of parchment, covered with writing and
creased from his attempts to make a parchment helmet, "Show me," he
said, holding out the sheet to Marcia.
She took him on her knee and began reading what was written, putting him
down when he tugged at the parchment to make her show him how to fold
it. She found him another sheet to play with and told him to take it to
Pertinax who was a soldier and knew more about helmets. Then she went
on reading, clutching at the sheet so tightly that her nails blanched
white under the dye.
"Pertinax!" she said, shaking the parchment, speaking in a strained
voice, "this is his final list! He has copied the names from his
tablets. Whose name do you guess comes first?"
Pertinax was playing with Telamonion and did not look at her.
"Severus!" he answered, morbid jealousy, amounting to obsession,
stirring that cynical hope in him.
"Severus isn't mentioned. The first six names are in this order: Galen,
Marcia, Cornificia, Pertinax, Narcissus, Sextus alias Maternus. Do you
realize what that means? It is now or never! Why has he put Galen
first, I wonder?"
Galen did not appear startled. His interest was philosophical--
impersonal.
"I should be first. I am guiltiest. I taught him in his youth," he
remarked, smiling thinly. "I taught him how to loose the beast that
lives in him, not intending that, of course, but it is what we do that
counts. I should come first! The state would have been better for the
death of many a man whom I cured; but I did not cure Commodus, I
revealed him to himself, and he fell in love with himself and--"
"Now will you poison him?" said Marcia.
"No," said Galen. "Let him kill me. It is better."
"Gods! Has Rome no iron left? You, Pertinax!" said Marcia, "Go in and
kill him!"
Pertinax stood up and stared at her. The child Telamonion pressed close
to him holding his righthand, gazing at Marcia.
"Telamonion, go in and play with Narcissus," said Marcia. She pointed
at the curtains and the child obeyed.
"Go in and kill him, Pertinax!" Marcia shook the list of names, then
stood still suddenly, like a woman frozen, ash-white under the carmine
on her cheeks.
There came a voice from the emperor's bedroom, more like the roar of an
angry beast than human speech:
"Marcia! Do you hear me, Marcia? By all Olympus--Marcia!"
She opened the door. The inner room was in darkness. There came a gust
of chill wet wind that made all the curtains flutter and there was a
comfortless noise of cataracts of rain downpouring from the over-loaded
gutters on to marble balconies. Then the emperor's voice again:
"Is that you, Marcia? You leave your Commodus to die of thirst! I
parch--I have a fever--bring my wine-cup!"
"At once, Commodus."
She glanced at the golden cup on an onyx table. On a stand beside it
was an unpierced wine jar set in an enormous bowl of snow. She looked
at Pertinax--and shrugged her shoulders, possibly because the wind blew
through the opened door. She glanced at Galen.
"If you have a fever, shouldn't I bring Galen?"
"No!" roared Commodus. "The man might poison me! Bring me the cup, and
you fill it yourself! Make haste before I die of thirst! Then bring me
another lamp and dose the shutters! No slaves--I can't bear the sight
of them!"
"Instantly, Commodus. I am coming with it now. Only wait while I
pierce the amphora."
She closed the door and looked swiftly once again at Pertinax. He
frowned over the list of names and did not look at her. She walked
straight up to Galen.
"Give me!" she demanded, holding out her hand. He drew a little
parchment package from his bosom and she clutched it, saying nothing.
Galen was the one who spoke:
"Responsibility is his who orders. May the gods see that it falls where
it belongs."
She took no notice of his speech but stood for a moment untying the
strings of the package, frowning to herself, then bit the string through
and, clutching the little package in her fist, took a gilded tool from
beside the snow-bowl and pierced the seal of the amphora. Then she put
the poison in the bottom of the golden cup and poured the wine--with
difficulty, since the jar was heavy, but Pertinax, who watched intently,
made no movement to assist. She stirred the wine with one of her long
hair-pins.
"Marcia!" roared Commodus.
"I am coming now."
She went into the bedroom, leaving the door not quite closed behind her.
Pertinax began to stare at Galen critically. Galen blinked at him.
Commodus' voice came very distinctly from the inner room:
"Taste first, Marcia! Olympus! I can't see you in the dark. Come
close. Are your lips wet? Let me feel them!"
"I drank a whole mouthful, Commodus. How hot your hand is! Feel--feel
the cup--you can feel with your finger how much I have tasted. I broke
the seal of a fresh jar of Falernian."
"Some of your Christians might have tampered with it!"
"No, no, Commodus. That jar has been in the cellar since before you
were born and the seal was intact. I washed the cup myself."
"Well, taste again. Sit here on the bed where I can feel your heart-
beats."
Presently he gave a gasp and belched, as always after he had swallowed a
whole cupful at one draught.
"Now close the shutters and bolt them on the inside; there might be
some of your Christians lurking on the balcony."
"In this storm, Commodus? And there are guards on duty."
"Close them, I say! Who trusts the guards! Did they guard the tunnel?
I will rid Rome of all Christians tomorrow! Aye, and of many another
reptile! They have robbed me of my fun in the arena--I will find
another way to interest myself! Now bring me a fresh lamp in here, and
set the tablets by the bed."
She came out, shutting the door behind her, then stood listening. She
did not tremble. Her wrist was red where Commodus had held it.
"How long?" she whispered, looking at Galen.
"Only a very little time," he answered. "How much did you drink?"
She put her hand to her stomach, as if pain had stabbed her.
"Drink pure wine," said Galen. "Swiftly. Drink a lot of it."
She went to the amphora. Before she could reach it there came a roar
like a furious beast's from the bedroom.
"I am poisoned! Marcia! Marcia! My belly burns! I am on fire inside!
I faint! Marcia!--Marcia!" Then groans and a great creaking of the
bed.
Marcia--she was trembling now--drank wine, and Pertinax began to pace
the floor.
"You, Galen, you had better go in to him," said Marcia.
"If I do go, I must heal him," Galen answered.
The groans in the bedroom ceased. The shouts began again--terrific
imprecations--curses hurled at Marcia--the struggles of a strong man in
the throes of cramp--and, at last, the sound of vomiting.
"If he vomits he will not die!" Marcia exclaimed. Galen nodded. He
appeared immensely satisfied--expectant.
"Galen, have you--will that poison kill him?" Marcia demanded.
"No," said Galen. "Pertinax must kill him. I promised I would do my
best for Pertinax. Behold your opportunity!"
Pertinax strode toward him, clutching at a dagger underneath his tunic.
"Kill me if you wish," said Galen, "but if you have any resolution you
had better do first what you wanted me to do. And you will need me
afterward."
Commodus was vomiting and in the pauses roaring like a mad beast. Marcia
seized Pertinax by the arm. "I have done my part," she said. "Now
nerve yourself! Go in now and finish it!"
"He may die yet. Let us wait and see," said Pertinax.
A howl rising to a scream--terror and anger mingled--came from the
bedroom; then again the noise of vomiting and the creaking of the bed
as Commodus writhed in the spasms of cramp.
"He will feel better presently," said Galen.
"If so, you die first! You have betrayed us all!" Pertinax shook off
Marcia and scowled at Galen, raising his right arm as if about to strike
the old man. "False to your emperor! False to us!"
"And quite willing to die, if first I may see you play the man!" said
Galen, blinking up at him.
"Hush!" exclaimed Marcia. "Listen! Gods! He is up off the bed! He
will be in here in a minute! Pertinax!"
Alarm subsided. They could hear the thud and creak as Commodus threw
himself back on the bed--then writhing again and groans of agony.
Between the spasms Commodus began to frame connected sentences:
"Guards! Your emperor is being murdered! Rescue your Commodus!"
"He is recovering," said Galen.
"Give me your dagger!" said Marcia and clutched at Pertinax' tunic,
feeling for it.
But she was not even strong enough to resist the half-contemptuous shrug
with which Pertinax thrust her away.
"You disgust me. There is neither dignity nor decency in this," he
muttered. "Nothing but evil can come of it."
"Whose was the star that fell?" asked Galen.
There came more noise from the bedroom. Commodus seemed to be trying to
get to his feet again. Marcia ran toward the smaller anteroom and
dragged the curtains back.
"Narcissus!"
He came out, carrying Telamonion. The child lay asleep in his arms.
"Go and put that child down. Now earn your freedom--go in and kill the
emperor! He has poisoned himself, and he thinks we did it. Give him
your dagger, Pertinax!"
"I am only a slave," Narcissus answered. "It is not right that a slave
should kill an emperor."
Marcia seized the gladiator by the shoulders, scanned his face, saw what
she looked for and bargained for it instantly.
"Your freedom! Manumission and a hundred thousand sesterces!"
"In writing!" said Narcissus.
"Dog!" growled Pertinax. "Go in and do as you are told!"
But Narcissus only grinned at him and squared his shoulders.
"Death means little to a gladiator," he remarked.
"Leave him to me!" ordered Marcia.
"Go and sit down at that table, Pertinax. Take pen and parchment. Now
then--what do you want in writing? Make haste!"
"Freedom--you may keep your money--I shall not wait to receive it.
Freedom for me and for Sextus and for all of Sextus' friends and
freedmen. An order releasing Sextus from the guard-house instantly.
Permission to leave Rome and Italy by any route we choose."
"Write, Pertinax!" said Marcia. Narcissus glanced at Galen.
"Galen," he said, "is one of Sextus' friends, so set his name down."
"Never mind me," said Galen. "They will need me."
Marcia stood over Pertinax, watching him write. She snatched the
document and sanded it, then watched him write the order to the guard,
releasing Sextus.
"There!" she exclaimed. "You have your price. Go in and kill him!
Give him your dagger, Pertinax."
"I hoped for heroism, not expecting it," said Galen. "I expected
cunning. Is it absent, too? If he should use a dagger--many men have
heard me say that Caesar has a tendency to apoplexy--"
"Strangle him!" commanded Marcia.
She thrust the palms of her hands against Narcissus' back and pushed him
toward the bedroom door, now almost at the end of her reserves of self-
control. Her mouth trembled. She was fighting against hysteria.
"Light! Lamp! Guards!" roared Commodus, and again the ebony-posted bed
creaked under him. Narcissus stepped into the darkened room. He left
the door open, to have light to do his work by, but Marcia closed it,
clinging to the gilded satyr's head that served for knob with both
hands, her lips drawn tight against her teeth, her whole face tortured
with anticipation.
"It is better that a gladiator did it," remarked Pertinax, attempting to
look calm. "I never killed a man. As general, and as governor of Rome,
as consul and proconsul, I have spared whom I might. Some had to die
but--my own hands are clean."
There came an awful sound of struggle from the inner room. A monstrous
roar was shut off suddenly, half-finished, smothered under bedclothes.
Then the bed-frame cracked under the strain of Titans fighting--cracked
--creaked--and utter silence fell. It lasted several minutes. Then the
door opened and Narcissus came striding out.
"He was strong," he remarked. "Look at this."
He bared his arm and showed where Commodus had gripped him; the lithe
muscle looked as if it had been gripped in an iron vise. He chafed it,
wincing with pain.
"Go in and observe that I have taken nothing. Don't be afraid," he
added scornfully. "He fought like the god that he was, but he died--"
"Of apoplexy," Galen interrupted. "That is to say, of a surging of
blood to the brain and a cerebral rupture. It is fortunate you have a
doctor on the scene who knew of his liability to--"
"We must go and see," said Marcia. "Come with me, Pertinax. Then we
must tidy the bed and make haste and summon the officers of the
praetorian guard. Let them hear Galen say he died of apoplexy."
She picked up a lamp from the table and Pertinax moved to follow her,
but Narcissus stepped in his way.
"Ave, Caesar!" he said, throwing up his right hand.
"You may go," said Pertinax. "Go in silence. Not a word to a soul in
the corridors. Leave Rome. Leave Italy. Take Sextus with you."
"You will let him go?" asked Marcia. "Pertinax, what will become of
you? Send to the guard at the gate and command them to seize him!
Sextus and Narcissus--"
"Have my promise!" he retorted. "If the fates intend me to be Caesar,
it shall not be said I slew the men who set me on the throne."
"You are Caesar," she answered. "How long will you last? All omens
favored you--the murder in the tunnel--now this storm, like a veil to
act behind, and--"
"And last night a falling star!" said Galen. "Give me parchment. I will
write the cause of death. Then let me go too, or else kill me. I am no
more use. This is the second time that I have failed to serve the world
by tutoring a Caesar. Commodus the hero, and now you the--"
"Silence!" Marcia commanded. "Or even Pertinax may rise above his
scruples! Write a death certificate at once, and go your way and follow
Sextus!"