Part 52 (1/2)

The contest over the pontificate still rankled in his breast. That four and twenty hours hence both of these aristocratic gentlemen might have more pressing things to think of seemingly entered the head of neither. Lentulus Crus, Domitius, and Scipio waited after the others were gone.

”I have been wondering all day,” said the genial Domitius, when the tent had emptied, ”how Caesar will comport himself if he is taken prisoner and not slain in battle. I give him credit for not being likely to flee away.”

”I trust he will die a soldier's death,” replied Pompeius, gloomily.

”It would be a grievous thing to have him fall into my hands. He has been my friend, my father-in-law. I could not treat him harshly.”

”Doubtless,” said the ever suave Lentulus Crus, ”it would be most disagreeable for you, Magnus, to have to reward such an enemy of the Republic as he deserves. But your excellency will, of course, bow to the decrees of the Senate, and--I fear it will be very hard to persuade the conscript fathers that Caesar has earned any mercy.”

”_Vah!_ gentlemen,” retorted Pompeius, pressing his hands together, and walking up and down: ”I have been your tool a long while! I never at heart desired this war! A hundred times I would draw back, but you in some way prevented. I have been made to say things that I would fain have left unsaid. I am perhaps less educated and more superst.i.tious than you. I believe that there are G.o.ds, and they punish the shedders of innocent blood. And much good Roman blood has been shed since you had your way, and drove Caesar into open enmity!”

”Of course,” interposed Domitius, his face a little flushed with suppressed anger, ”it is a painful thing to take the lives of fellow-countrymen; but consider the price that patriots must pay for liberty.”

”Price paid for liberty,” snorted Pompeius, in rising disgust, ”_phui!_ Let us at least be honest, gentlemen! It is very easy to cry out on tyrants when our ambition has been disappointed. But I am wasting words. Only this let me say. When, to-morrow, we have slain or captured our enemy, it will be _I_ that determine the future policy of the state, and not _you_! I will prove myself indeed the Magnus! I will be a tool no longer.”

The three consulars stared at each other, at loss for words.

”Time wastes, gentlemen,” said Pompeius. ”To your several commands!

You have your orders.”

The Magnus spoke in a tone that admonished the three oligarchs to bow in silence and go out without a word.

”His excellency is a bit tempted to play the high tragedian to-night,”

sneered Domitius, recovering from his first consternation. ”He will think differently to-morrow. But of all things, my good Lentulus (if it comes your way), see that Caesar is quietly killed--no matter what fas.h.i.+on; it will save us endless trouble.”

”_Mehercle!_” quoth the other, ”do I need that advice? And again remind me to-morrow of this. We must arrange the dividing of the estate of that young reprobate, Quintus Drusus, who gave us some anxiety two years ago. But I imagine that must be deferred until after the battle.”

And so they separated, and the two armies--scarce five miles apart--slept; and the stars watched over them.

III

The sun was climbing out of the dark bank of clouds that pressed down upon the eastern horizon. The green plain of Pharsalus lay spread out far and wide under the strengthening light; the distant hills were peering dimly out from the mist; the acropolis of Pharsalus itself,--perhaps the Homeric Phthia, dwelling of Achilles,--with its two peaked crags, five hundred feet in height, frowned down upon the Caesarian camp. The Enipeus and one or two minor streams were threading their way in silver ribbons down toward the distant Peneus. The fertile plain was green and verdant with the bursting summer. The scent of clover hung in the air, and with it the fragrance of thyme.

Wild flowers were scattered under the feet. The early honeybee was hovering over the dew-laden petals. Wakeful thrushes were carolling out of the thickets. A thin grey fog was drifting off of the valley, soon to vanish in the blue of a perfect day. Clear and sweet the notes of the trumpets called the soldiers from their camp. The weary men shook the sleep from their eyes. There was a hurried pounding of grain in the stone mortars, breakfasts even more hurried. Then again the trumpets called out their signal. Busy hands tore up the tent pegs, other hands were folding the coverings, gathering up the poles and impedimenta, and loading them on the baggage animals.

The soldiers were grumbling as soldiers will. Drusus, who emerged from his own tent just as it was about to be pulled down about his ears, heard one private growl to another: ”Look at the sun rising! What a hot day we shall have! _aedepol!_ will there never be an end to this marching and countermarching, skirmis.h.i.+ng and intrenching,--water to drink, _puls_ to eat,--I didn't take the oath[179] for that. No plunder here, and the sack of Gomphi, the last town stormed, amounted to nothing.”

[179] The military oath of obedience.

Drusus would have rebuked the man for breeding discontent in the army, but at that moment he and every other around him for once relaxed that stringent discipline that held them in bands of iron. A third trumpet call cut the air, quick, shrill, penetrating.

”To arms!” Every centurion was shouting it to his men. The baggage animals were left unladen. A cohort that was about to leave the camp in marching order halted, and began to throw away its impedimenta, when Caesar himself rode up to them.

”Fellow-soldiers,” said the Imperator, smiling as though he had to reveal a great piece of good fortune, ”we can postpone the march. Let us put our hearts into the battle for which we have longed, and meet the foe with resolute souls, for now or never is our opportunity!”

”_Io! Io!_” cried a thousand hoa.r.s.e throats.

Out of confusion came the most perfect order. Drusus ran to the horse that he had yielded for a pack animal on the march, saddled, mounted, flew away to Caesar's side, his heart pounding in his breast.

”Pompeius is leading out his men!” soldier was shouting to soldier.