Part 36 (1/2)
”Aye, one word, gracious lady ... Hark!”
And that word sent its dismal echo even to Dea Flavia's ear.
”Death!”
Then Blanca uttered a terrified scream and quickly drew away from the window; from beyond the Palace of Tiberius, there where the new Palace of Caligula reared its gigantic marble pillars above the temples below, a huge column of flames had shot upwards to the sky. And a cry, louder than before and more distinct, came clearly from afar.
”Death to the Caesar! Death!”
”Ye G.o.ds protect him,” murmured Dea Flavia fervently.
”They'll murder him! they'll murder him!” shouted Licinia at the top of her trembling voice.
She had fallen on her knees and the other women squatted round her like a huddled-up ma.s.s of terror-stricken humanity, with hair undone and pale, quivering lips and staring eyes dilated with fear.
But Dea Flavia, now that she was dressed, took no further notice of them; she left them there on the floor, moaning and whimpering, and hurried out into the atrium. Here too the sense of terror filled the air. Beyond the colonnaded arcade in the corridors and the peristyle could be seen groups of slaves--men and women--squatting together with head meeting head in eager gossip, or clinging to one another in a state of abject cowardice.
Here too, through the open vestibule, the sounds from the streets came louder and more clear. That awful cry of ”Death” echoed with appalling distinctness, and to Dea Flavia's strained senses it seemed as if they were mingled with others, more awesome mayhap, but equally ominous of ”The praefect of Rome! Where is the praefect of Rome! Hail! Taurus Antinor! Hail.”
The noise grew louder and louder, and from where she stood now--it seemed to her that she could trace in her mind the progress of the rebels, as they spread themselves from the foot of the Palatine and from the Forum, upwards to the heights until they had the palace of the Caesar completely surrounded.
It was from there that weird cries of terror came incessantly, and in imagination Dea saw an army of cowardly, panic-stricken slaves, huddled together as her own women had been, with palsied limbs and chattering teeth, whilst a handful of faithful men of the praetorian guard were alone left to protect the sacred person of the Caesar.
Above her, through the apertures in the tiled roof, she could see the sky aglow with lurid crimson, and the smell of burning wood and of charred stuffs filled her nostrils with their pungent odour.
”Death to the Caesar! Death!” The cry seemed almost at her door. Only the Palace of Tiberius, with its great empty halls and basilicas stood between her and the rallying-point of the rebels.
She called loudly for Tertius--her comptroller--and he came running along from the slaves' quarters with an army of howling men and women at his heels.
”What news, Tertius?” she demanded. ”Hast heard?”
”They have surrounded the Caesar's palace,” said Tertius excitedly, ”and demand his presence.”
”Oh! the sacrilege!...” she exclaimed, ”and what doth the Caesar?”
”He will not appear, and his guards charge the mob as they advance upwards from the Forum. They have invaded the temple of Castor, and already some are swarming in the vestibules of the palace. The guard are behind the colonnades and were holding the crowd at bay with fair success until....”
”Until?” she asked.
”Until some of the rebels skirting the palace, set fire to the slaves'
quarters in the rear. The flames are spreading. The Caesar will be forced to face the people, an he doth not mean to be buried beneath the crumbling walls of his palace!”
”The miscreants have set fire to the palace of the Caesars?” she exclaimed.
”Alas!” replied the man, ”they will force the Caesar to show himself to them. And they loudly demand the praefect of Rome.”
”The praefect of Rome?”
”Aye, gracious lady. The people had thought that the Caesar killed him; some strove, it seems, to recover his body in the imperial tribune, where he was seen to fall. But the body had disappeared, and the rumour hath gained ground that the Caesar had it thrown to his dogs.”