Part 8 (1/2)

Taurus Antinor was still the praefect of Rome, still a member of the Senate and favourite of Caligula. He had her at a disadvantage now, just as she had held him a while ago when she forced on the public sale of the girl Nola. Therefore, though with a look she would have crushed the insolent, and her delicate hands were clenched into fists that would have chastised him then and there if they had the strength, she returned his look of fierce defiance with her usual one of calm.

”Thou hast spoken, Taurus Antinor,” she said coldly, ”and in deference to the law which thou dost represent I bow to thy commands. Art thou content?” she added, seeing that he made no reply.

”Content?” he asked, puzzled at her meaning.

”Aye!” she said; ”I asked thee if thou wert content. Thou hast humiliated a daughter of Caesar, a humiliation which she is not like to forget.”

”I crave thy pardon if I have transgressed beyond the limits of my duty.”

”Thy duty? Nay, Taurus Antinor, a man's duties are as varied as a woman's moods, and he is wisest who knows how to adapt the one to the other. 'Tis not good, remember, to run counter to Dea Flavia's will.

'Tis much that thou must have forgotten, O praefect, ere thou didst set thy so-called duty above the fulfilment of my wish.”

”Nay, gracious lady,” he said simply, ”I had forgotten nothing. Not even that Archelaus Menas, the sculptor, died for having angered thee; nor that Julius Campanius perished in exile and young Decretas in fetters, because of thine enmity. Thou seest that--though somewhat of a stranger in Rome--I know much of its secret history, and though mine eyes had until now never beheld thy loveliness, yet had mine ears heard much of thy power.”

”Yet at its first encounter thou didst defy it.”

”I have no mother to mourn o'er my death like young Decretas,” he said curtly, ”nor yet a wife to make into a sorrowing widow like the sculptor Menas.”

If it was his desire to break through the barrier of well-nigh insolent calm which she seemed to have set round her dainty person, then he succeeded over well, for she winced at his words like one who has received a blow and her eyes, dark with anger, narrowed until they became mere slits fringed by her golden lashes.

”But thou hast a life, Taurus Antinor,” she said, ”and life is a precious possession.”

He shrugged his ma.s.sive shoulders, and a curious smile played round his lips.

”And thou canst order that precious possession to be taken from me,” he said lightly. ”Is that what thou wouldst say?”

”That and more, for thou hast other precious treasures more precious, mayhap, than life; so guard them well, O Taurus Antinor!”

”Nay, gracious lady,” he rejoined, still smiling, ”I have but one soul as I have one life, and that too is in the hands of G.o.d.”

”Of which G.o.d?” she asked quaintly.

He did not reply but pointed upwards at the vivid dome of blue against which the white of Phrygian marbles glittered in the sun.

”Of Him Whose Empire is mightier than that of Rome.”

She looked on him in astonishment. Apparently she did not understand him, nor did he try to explain, but it seemed to her as if his whole appearance had changed suddenly, and her thoughts flew back to that which she had witnessed a year ago when she was in Ostia and she had seen a raging tempest become suddenly stilled. ”There is no mightier empire than that of Rome,” she said proudly, ”and methinks thou art a traitor, oh Taurus Antinor, else thou wouldst not speak of any emperor save of Caesar, my kinsman.”

”I spoke not of an emperor, gracious lady,” he said simply.

”But thy thoughts were of one whose empire was mightier than that of Rome.”

”My thoughts,” he said, ”were of a Man Whom I saw whilst travelling through Judaea a few years ago. He was poor and dwelt among the fishermen of Galilee. They stood around Him and listened whilst He talked; when He walked they followed Him, for a halo of glory was upon Him and the words which He spoke were such that once heard they could never be forgotten.”

”Didst thou too hear those marvellous words, O Taurus Antinor?” she asked.

”Only twice,” he replied, ”did I hear the words which He spoke. I mingled with the crowd, and once when His eyes fell upon me, it seemed to me as if all the secrets of life and death were suddenly revealed to me. His eyes fell upon me.... I was one of a mult.i.tude ... but from that moment I knew that life on this earth would never be precious to me again--since the most precious gift man hath is his immortality.”

”Thou speakest of strange matters, O praefect,” she rejoined, ”and meseems there's treason in what thou sayest. Who is this man, whose very look hath made a slave of thee?”

”A slave to His will thou sayest truly, O daughter of Caesar! Could I hear His command I would follow Him through life and to death. At times even now meseems that I can hear His voice and see His eyes ... thou hast never seen such eyes, Augusta--fixed upon my very soul. I saw them just now, right across the Forum, when the wretched freedwoman clung shrieking round my s.h.i.+ns. They looked at me and _asked_ me to be merciful; they did not command, they begged ... _asking_ for the pity that lay dormant in my soul. And now I know that if those same eyes looked at me again and asked for every drop of my blood, if they asked me to bear death, torture, or even shame, I would become as thou truly sayest--a slave.”