Part 39 (1/2)

Caesar shook his head.

”You magnify your own wrongs and mine. If mere revenge prompts us, we are worse than Xerxes, or Sulla. The G.o.ds alone can tell us what is right.”

”The G.o.ds!” cried Drusus, half sunken though he was in a weary lethargy, ”do you believe there are any G.o.ds?”

Caesar threw back his head. ”Not always; but at moments I do not _believe_ in them, I _know_! And now I _know_ that G.o.ds are guiding us!”

”Whither?” exclaimed the young man, starting from his weary drowsiness.

”I know not whither; neither do I care. Enough to be conscious that they guide us!”

And then, as though there was no pressing problem involving the peace of the civilized world weighing upon him, the proconsul stood by in kind attention while Antiochus and an attendant bathed the wearied messenger's feet before taking him away to rest.

After Drusus had been carried to his room, Caesar collected the ma.n.u.scripts and tablets scattered about the apartment, methodically placed them in the proper cases and presses, suffered himself to be undressed, and slept late into the following morning, as sweetly and soundly as a little child.

II

On the next day Caesar called before him the thirteenth legion,--the only force he had at Ravenna,--and from a pulpit in front of the praetorium he told them the story of what had happened at Rome; of how the Senate had outraged the tribunes of the plebs, whom even the violent Sulla had respected; of how the mighty oligarchy had outraged every soldier in insulting their commander. Then Curio, just arrived, declaimed with indignant fervour of the violence and fury of the consuls and Pompeius; and when he concluded, the veterans could restrain their ardour and devotion no more, five thousand martial throats roared forth an oath of fealty, and as many swords were waved on high in mad defiance to the Senate and the Magnus. Then cohort after cohort cried out that on this campaign they would accept no pay; and the military tribunes and centurions pledged themselves, this officer for the support of two recruits, and that for three.

It was a great personal triumph for Caesar. He stood receiving the pledges and plaudits, and repaying each protestation of loyalty with a few gracious words, or smiles, that were worth fifty talents to each acclaiming maniple. Drusus, who was standing back of the proconsul, beside Curio, realized that never before had he seen such outgoing of magnetism and personal energy from man to man, one mind holding in va.s.salage five thousand. Yet it was all very quickly over. Almost while the plaudits of the centuries were rending the air, Caesar turned to the senior tribune of the legion.

”Are your men ready for the march, officer?”

The soldier instantly fell into rigid military pose. ”Ready this instant, Imperator. We have expected the order.”

”March to Ariminum, and take possession of the town. March rapidly.”

The tribune saluted, and stepped back among his cohort. And as if some conjurer had flourished a wand of magic, in the twinkling of an eye the first century had formed in marching order; every legionary had flung over his shoulder his s.h.i.+eld and pack, and at the harsh blare of the military trumpet the whole legion fell into line; the aquilifer with the bronze eagle, that had tossed on high in a score of hard-fought fights, swung off at the head of the van; and away went the legion, a thing not of thinking flesh and blood, but of bra.s.s and iron--a machine that marched as readily and carelessly against the consuls of the Roman Republic as against the wretched Gallic insurgents. The body of troops--cohort after cohort--was vanis.h.i.+ng down the road in a cloud of dust, the pack train following after, almost before Drusus could realize that the order to advance had been given.

Caesar was still standing on the little pulpit before the praetorium.

Except for Curio and Drusus, almost all the vast company that had but just now been pressing about him with adulation and homage were disappearing from sight. For an instant the Imperator seemed alone, stripped of all the panoply of his high estate. He stood watching the legion until its dust-cloud settled behind some low-lying hills. Then he stepped down from the pulpit. Beyond a few menials and Drusus and that young man's late comrade in danger, no one else was visible. The transaction had been so sudden as to have something of the phantasmagoric about it.

Caesar took his two friends, one by each hand, and led them back to his private study in the praetorium.

”The army is yours, Imperator,” said Curio, breaking a rather oppressive silence. ”The newest recruit is yours to the death.”

”Yes, to the death,” replied the general, abstractedly; and his keen eyes wandered down upon the mosaic, seemingly penetrating the stone and seeking something hidden beneath. ”The thirteenth legion,” he continued, ”will do as a test of the loyalty of the others. They will not fail me. The eighth and the twelfth will soon be over the Alps.

Fabius is at Narbo with three. They will check Pompeius's Spaniards. I must send to Trebonius for his four among the Belgae; he is sending Fabius one.” And then, as if wearied by this recapitulation, Caesar's eyes wandered off again to the pavement.

Drusus had an uneasy sensation. What was this strange mingling of energy and listlessness? Why this soliloquy and internal debate, when the moment called for the most intense activity? The general being still silent, his friends did not venture to disturb him. But Antiochus pa.s.sed in and out of the study, gathering up writing materials, tablets, and books; and presently Drusus heard the freedman bidding an underling have ready and packed the marble slabs used for the tessellated floor of the Imperator's tent--a bit of luxury that Caesar never denied himself while in the field. Presently the proconsul raised his eyes. He was smiling; there was not the least cloud on his brow.

”There will be some public games here this afternoon,” he remarked, as though the sole end in view was to make their stay pleasant to his guests: ”I have promised the good people of the town to act as _editor_,[152] and must not fail to honour them. Perhaps the sport will amuse you, although the provincials cannot of course get such good lanista-trained men as you see at Rome. I have a new fencing school in which perhaps we may find a few _threces_[153] and _retiarii_,[154] who will give some tolerable sword and net play.”

[152] President of the games.

[153] Buckler and cutla.s.s men.

[154] Net and trident men.

”_Hei!_” groaned Curio, with a lugubrious whisper, ”to think of it, I have never a sesterce left that I can call my own, to stake on the struggle!”

”At least,” laughed Drusus, ”I am a companion of your grief; already Lentulus and Ahen.o.barbus have been sharing my forfeited estate.”