Ernst Eckstein - Quintus Claudius, Volume 1

“Oh, my lord!” groaned Herodianus, “it was only on account of the Vestal virgin! I should not have cared about being called a pug! Oh ye gods! my knees.”

“I will take you in my litter. My own head aches, till it might split.”

“What! are you going?” said Quintus Claudius, coming up to him. “Do you not know that Lycoris has planned a magnificent surprise for her guests?”

“I know it, but I must beg to be excused. These sports are not to my taste. Farewell till we meet again.”

So speaking, he beckoned his Gothic slave, who took the limping freedman round the body and held him up with his usual strength of arm. The pair went first, and Aurelius followed them. All the company had by this time left their places, so his disappearance was almost unremarked; but the fair hostess kept her eye fixed on him, till she lost sight of her ungracious guest in the throng. Then, with an insidious smile, she turned to Quintus, laid her hand on his shoulder, and whispered maliciously: “What sort of foolish philosopher is that who comes here, of all places, to plead the cause of women and take up the cudgels for a freedman?”

“Your foolish philosopher,” replied Quintus, “is one of the noblest souls I ever knew, and beyond a doubt, the very noblest of the men who cross your threshold.”

“Indeed!” said Lycoris, somewhat abashed. “Well, we shall have time by and bye to discuss this paragon of merit!” And with a coquettish toss of her head she turned from Quintus and mingled with the crowd of guests, who were now streaming out into the illuminated gardens.

Outside, under the branches of the elm and sycamore-trees, which stretched in long avenues up the Viminal and down again on the farthest side, an ingenious intendant had devised much such an entertainment as in our days would be given under corresponding circumstances. Thousands of colored lamps hung in long festoons from tree to tree. The quaintly-clipped laurel and yew bushes, that stood between the six great avenues, were starred with semicircular lights, and the bronze and marble statues held torches and braziers of flame. The open space between the two centre avenues was screened by an immense curtain of purple stuff, which was fastened to two tall masts and waved mysteriously in the night air, casting strange reflections; to the right and left also a space was enclosed and screened from prying eyes by boards hung with tapestry.

“This promises something delightful,” said Clodianus, addressing Quintus for the first time during the evening. “She is a splendid creature, this Lycoris! Always ready to spend millions for the pleasure of her guests. Did you ever see handsomer hangings? Nero’s enormous velarium 179 179 Velarium. The cloth hung across the amphitheatre, to screen it from the sun. was not more costly.”

“Oh! gold is all-powerful!” Quintus said absently. “Listen,” he went on, taking the officer on one side, “quite in confidence. – Is what I heard to-day at the baths of Titus 180 180 The baths of Titus were located near the Cyprius Street, on the site of Nero’s domus aurea , which had been destroyed after its builder’s death. true? – that you had really been to Domitia?”

“As you say.”

“It is true then?”

“And why not? You know what happened in the Circus?”

“Of course; but I thought…”

“No, there was no help for it this time. I solemnly and formally offered her the hand of reconciliation in Caesar’s name.”

“And Domitia?”

“To-morrow she will return an answer to her husband’s message; but, of course, she is only too ready.”

At this moment the fair Massilian came up to them.

“Quintus, one word with you,” she begged with an engaging smile. “You will excuse him, Clodianus?”

The officer bowed.

“Listen,” said Lycoris, as she drew Quintus away, “you must tell me all you can about your provincial friend. The man is unbearable with his strictness and sobriety, and yet there is something in him – how can I explain it? – something that is wanting in every one of you others without exception; a balance of mind, a steadfast certainty – one may as well give in as soon as he opens his mouth.”

And as she spoke she laid her hand familiarly in the young man’s arm.

“Very true,” he said coldly. “Aurelius is not much like those oiled and perfumed gallants, who think themselves happy to kiss the dust on your sandals. But that boy is waiting to speak to you.”

Lycoris looked round; a young slave, who had slowly followed her, glanced at her significantly.

“Madam,” he said, “everything is ready.”

“Ah?” said the lady. “The actors are ready? Very good; then let the music begin.”

The slave bowed and vanished. Lycoris imperceptibly guided her companion into a thickly overgrown sidewalk.

“We have time to spare,” she said, “and the music sounds much better from here than up there from the terrace. What were we talking about?.. oh! the Batavian… Why did you not bring your strange specimen to my house sooner?”

“Because he has not long been in Rome.”

“In Rome…” repeated Lycoris vaguely. Her eyes were searching the shrubbery. Then, recollecting herself, she went on talking vivaciously. Thus the couple lost themselves farther and farther in the recesses of the garden; their conversation ceased, and they listened involuntarily to the Dionysiac hymn which reached them in softened tones from the distance. Out here even, in this remote alley, everything was festally illuminated; every leaf, every pebble in the path, shone in many-colored hues. And yet, how deserted, how lonely it was, in spite of the lights! there was something uncanny and ghostly in their doubtful flicker and sparkle. Suddenly Lycoris stood still.

“By the Styx!” she exclaimed. “I have lost my most valuable ring. Not two seconds since I saw it on my finger! Wait, you must have trodden on it; it cannot be twenty paces off and must be lying on the ground.” Before Quintus fairly understood what had happened, she had vanished down a side path. The young man waited. “Lycoris!” he called out presently.

No answer.

He went back to the turning – of Lycoris, not a sign.

“This is strange!” thought he. “What can it mean?”

Suddenly he stood stock-still, for in the middle of the path stood a girlish form, small, but well made and of the sweetest grace. She pressed her finger mysteriously to her rosebud lips, and then made unmistakable signs to the youth that he was to follow her.

“What do you want?” asked Quintus, going up to her.

“Above all things silence,” said the girl. “My errand is to you alone.”

“Speak on then.”

“Nay, not here, noble Quintus; consider a moment – with impenetrable hedges on each side of us! If any one came upon us, how could we escape?”

“And who are you?” asked Quintus with a meaning smile.

“Only a slave – named Polycharma. Will you come with me?”

“Certainly, Polycharma, I follow you.”

About a hundred yards farther on a small circular clearing opened to their right; the entrance to it was decorated with gold-colored festoons. Just before reaching this spot the path became so narrow, that a stout man could hardly pass along it; the wall of yew on each side had overgrown three-quarters of its width. Polycharma drew the folds of her dress more closely round her slim limbs, while the young man pushed aside the branches to the right and left. He looked round once more to see if he could discover Lycoris, but behind him all was silent and deserted. Even the sound of the music was only heard faintly and as if in a dream. Having reached the round plot, the slave girl took a letter out of her bosom. “My lord,” she said, “I must exact a solemn oath from you…”