Volume I Part 3 (2/2)
”Albinus was accused through the treachery of a slave, who had deciphered the secret writing in the letters to Byzantium. All the tyrant's suspicion was aroused; every appearance of resistance or of connection would increase the danger. The impetuosity of Boethius and Symmachus, who courageously defended Albinus, was n.o.ble but foolish, for it revealed to the barbarians the sentiments of the whole of the Roman aristocracy; and showed that Albinus did not stand alone. They acted against my advice, and alas! have suffered death for so doing.
But their zeal was superfluous; for the hand of the Lord suddenly bereft the slave of life before further revelations, and the secret writings of Albinus had been successfully destroyed before his arrest.
”But do you believe that Albinus would have been silent under torture, under the threat of death, if naming his co-conspirators could have saved him? You do not believe it, Albinus himself did not believe it.
Therefore it was necessary, before all else, to gain time and to prevent the use of torture. This was accomplished by his oath.
Meanwhile, it is true, Boethius and Symmachus suffered; they could not be saved; but of their silence, even under torture, we were sure.
”Albinus was freed from his prison by a miracle, like St. Paul at Philippi. It was said that he had escaped to Athens, and the tyrant was contented with prohibiting his return. But the triune G.o.d has prepared a refuge for him here in His temple until the hour of freedom approaches. In the solitude of His sacred asylum the Lord has touched his heart in a wonderful manner, and, undismayed by the danger of death, which once before had so nearly overtaken him, he again enters into our circle, and offers to the service of G.o.d and the fatherland his whole immense fortune. Listen: he has made over all his property to the church of St. Maria Majoris for the uses of our league. Would you despise him and his millions?”
A pause of astonishment ensued; at last Licinius cried:
”Priest, you are as wise as----as a priest. But such wisdom pleases me not.”
”Silverius,” said the jurist, ”you may take the millions. It is fitting that you should do so. But I was the friend of Boethius; it is not fitting that I should have anything in common with that coward. I cannot forgive him. Away with him!”
”Away with him!” sounded from all sides. Scaevola had given utterance to the sentiment of all present. Albinus grew pale; even Silverius quailed under this general indignation. ”Cethegus!” whispered he, claiming a.s.sistance.
This man, who, until now, had remained silent and had only regarded the speakers with cool superiority, now stepped into the middle of the a.s.sembly.
He was tall and lean, but powerful, with a broad breast and muscles of pure steel.
A purple hem on his toga and delicate sandals betrayed riches, rank and taste, but a long brown soldier's mantle hid the remainder of his underclothing. His head was one of those which, once seen, are never again forgotten. His thick and still glossy black hair was cut short, after Roman fas.h.i.+on, round his lofty, almost too prominent forehead and n.o.bly-formed temples. Deep under his finely-arched brows were hidden his narrow eyes, in whose undecided dark-grey colour lay a whole ocean of sunken pa.s.sions and a still more p.r.o.nounced expression of the coolest self-control. Round his sharply cut and beardless lips lurked a trait of proud contempt of G.o.d and His whole creation.
As he stepped forward, and, with quiet distinction, allowed his eyes to wander over the excited a.s.sembly; as he commenced his insinuating yet commanding speech, every one felt his superiority, and few could remain in his presence without a consciousness of subordination.
”Why do you wrangle,” he said coldly, ”about things that must be done?
Who wills the end, must will the means. You will not forgive? As you please! That is of little consequence. But you must and you can forget.
I also was a friend of the dead, perhaps their dearest. And yet--I will forget. I do so just because I was their friend. _He_ loves them, Scaevola, and he alone, who avenges them. For the sake of revenge---- Albinus, your hand!”
All were silent, awed more by the personality than convinced by the reasons of the speaker.
But the jurist still objected:
”Rusticiana, the influential woman, the widow of Boethius, the daughter of Symmachus, is favourable to our league. Will she remain so if this man enters it? Can she ever forget and forgive? Never!”
”She can. Do not believe me, believe your eyes.”
With these words Cethegus quickly turned and entered one of the side-pa.s.sages, whose opening had been hidden until now by his own person.
Close to the entrance a veiled figure stood listening; he caught her hand:
”Come,” whispered he, ”come now.”
”I cannot! I will not!” was the almost inaudible answer of the resisting woman. ”I curse him! I cannot look at him, the wretch!”
”It must be. Come; you can and you shall--for I will have it so.” He threw back her veil; one look, and she followed as if deprived of the power of will.
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