And meanwhile the suffering and exhaustion of the citizens in Rome reached its highest point.
Hunger thinned the ranks, never very full, of the defenders on the walls.
The Prefect in vain did his utmost. In vain he had recourse to all possible measures of persuasion or despotism. In vain he lavishly opened his coffers to provide the means of existence for the people.
For the stores of grain which he had procured from Sicily and garnered in the Capitol were exhausted.
He promised incredible rewards to any boat which should succeed in running the blockade of the King's ships and bring provisions to the city; to every mercenary who ventured to creep through the gates and the tents of the besiegers and bring back food.
But Totila's watchfulness was not to be deceived.
At first the promised reward had tempted a few avaricious and daring men to venture out at night. But when Earl Teja, next morning, caused their heads to be thrown over the walls at the Flaminian Gate, even the most venturesome lost all desire to follow their example.
The dung of animals was sold at a high price.
Hungry women fought for the weeds and nettles which they found on the heaps of rubbish.
Long since had hunger taught the populace to eat greedily unheard-of things.
And countless deserters fled from the city to the Goths.
Teja would have forced them to return, in order the sooner to oblige the city to surrender; but Totila gave orders that they should be received and fed, and that care should be taken that they did not injure themselves by the too sudden gratification of their ravenous appetites.
Cethegus now spent his nights upon the walls. At various hours he himself, spear and shield in hand, went the round of the patrols, and sometimes took the place of a sentinel who was overcome with hunger or the want of sleep. His example certainly had the greatest effect on the brave. The two Licinii, Piso, and Salvius Julianus stood by the Prefect and his blindly-devoted Isaurians with enthusiasm.
But not so all Romans; not Balbus, the gormandiser.
"No, Piso," said Balbus one day, "I cannot endure it any longer. It is not in a man's power, at least not in mine. Holy Lucullus! who would have thought that I should ever give my last and largest diamonds for half a rock-marten!"
"I remember the time," answered Piso, laughing, "when you would have put your cook in irons if he had let a lobster boil a minute too long."
"A lobster! Mercy on us! How can you recall such a picture to my mind! I would give my immortal soul for one claw of a lobster, or even for the tail. And never to sleep one's fill! To be awakened, if not by hunger, by the trumpets of the patrol!"
"Look at the Prefect! For the last fourteen days he has not slept fourteen hours. He lies upon his hard shield, and drinks rain-water out of his helmet."
"The Prefect! He need not eat. He lives upon his pride, like the bear on his fat, and sucks his own gall. He is made of nothing but sinews and muscles, pride and hatred! But I--who had accumulated such soft white flesh, that the mice nibbled at me when I slept, thinking that I was a Spanish ham!--Do you know the latest news? A whole herd of fat oxen was driven into the Gothic camp this morning--all from Apulia; darlings of gods and men!"
The next day early Piso, with Salvius Julianus, came to wake the Prefect, who had lain down on the wall by the Porta Portuensis, close to the most important point of defence, the bolt across the river.
"Forgive me for disturbing your rare slumbers."
"I was not asleep; I was awake. Tell me your news, tribune."
"Last night Balbus deserted his post with twenty citizens. They let themselves down from the Porta Latina by ropes. Outside there had been heard all night long the lowing of Apulian herds. It seems that their bellowing was irresistible."
But the smile of the satirist faded away when he looked at the Prefect's face.
"Let a cross thirty feet high be erected before the house of Balbus in the Via Sacra. Every deserter who falls into our hands shall be crucified thereon."
"General--Constantinus abolished the punishment of crucifixion in the name of our Saviour," said Salvius Julianus reprovingly.
"Then I re-introduce the practice in honour of Rome. That Emperor no doubt held it to be impossible that a Roman noble and tribune could desert his post for the sake of roast meat."
"I have other news. I can no longer set the watch on the tower of the Porta Pinciana. Of the sixteen mercenaries nine are either dead or sick."
"Almost the same thing is reported by Marcus Licinius, at the Porta Tiburtina," said Julianus. "Who can ward off the danger which threatens us on all sides?"
"I! and the courage of the Romans. Go! Let the heralds summon all the citizens, who may yet be in the houses, to the Forum Romanum."
"Sir, there are only women, children, and sick people----"
"Obey, tribune!"
And with a dark expression on his face the Prefect descended from the walls, mounted his noble Spanish charger, and, followed by a troop of mounted Isaurians, made a long round through the city, everywhere assuring himself that the sentinels were on the alert, and examining the troops; thus giving the herald time to summon the people, and the latter to obey. He advanced, very slowly, along the right bank of the Tiber. A few ragged people crept out of their huts to stare in dull despair at the passing horsemen. Only at the Bridge of Cestius did the throng become thicker.
Cethegus stopped his horse in order to muster the guard on the bridge.
Suddenly, from the door of a low hut, there rushed a woman with dishevelled hair, holding a child in her arms. Another pulled at her ragged skirt.
"Bread? bread?" she asked; "can stones be softened by tears until they become bread? Oh no! They remain as hard--as hard as that man. Look, children, that is the Prefect of Rome. He upon the black horse, with the crimson crest and the terrible eyes! But I fear him no longer. Look, children! that man forced your father to keep watch on the walls day and night, until he fell dead. Curses on the Prefect of Rome!"
And she shook her fist at the immovable horseman.
"Bread, mother! Give us something to eat," howled the children.
"I have nothing more for you to eat, but plenty to drink! Come!" screamed the woman, and, clasping the elder child round the waist with her right arm, and pressing the younger more firmly to her bosom, she cast herself over the wall into the river.
A cry of horror, followed by curses, ran through the crowd.
"She was mad!" said the Prefect in a loud voice, and rode on.
"No, she was the wisest of us all!" cried a voice from the crowd.
"Silence! Legionaries, sound the trumpets! Forwards! To the Forum!" commanded Cethegus, and the troop of horsemen galloped away.
Across the Fabrician Bridge and through the Carmentalian Gate, the Prefect arrived in the Forum Romanum at the foot of the Capitoline Hill.
The wide space appeared almost empty; the few thousand people who, clad in miserable garments, crouched upon the steps of the temple and halls, or supported themselves on their staffs or spears, made little impression.
"What does the Prefect want?"--"What can he want? we have nothing left but our lives."--"And those he will--" "Do you know that the day before yesterday the coast town Centumcellæ surrendered to the Goths?"--"Yes; the citizens overpowered the Prefect's Isaurians and opened the gates."--"Would that we could follow their example!"--"We must do it soon, or it will be too late."--"Yesterday my brother fell down dead, some boiled nettles still in his mouth. He was too weak to swallow the mess."---"Yesterday in the Forum Boarium a mouse was sold for its weight in gold!"--"For a week I got roasted meat from a butcher--he would not sell the flesh raw."--"You were lucky! They storm all houses where they smell roast meat!"--"But the day before yesterday he was torn to pieces by the mob, for he had enticed beggar-children into his house--and that was the flesh he had sold us!"--"But do you know what the Gothic King does with his prisoners? He treats them as a father treats his helpless children; and most of them enter his army at once."--"Yes, and those who will not he provides with money for the journey."--"Yes, and with clothes and shoes and provisions. The sick and wounded are nursed."--"And he gives them guides to the coast towns."--"And sometimes he even pays for their passage in merchant-ships to the East."--"Look, the Prefect dismounts!"
"He looks like Pluto!"
"He is no longer Princeps Senatus, but Princeps Inferorum."
"Look at his eyes! As cold as ice, and yet like red-hot arrows."
"Yes, my godmother is right; she says that only those who have no heart can look like that."
"That is an old tale. Spectres and Lemures have eaten his heart in the night."
"Ah, bah! There are no Lemures. But there is a devil, for it says so in the Bible. And the Prefect has sold himself to the devil. The Numidian who is holding his black horse by the bridle is an imp from hell, who always accompanies him. Nothing can hurt the Prefect. He feels neither hunger nor thirst nor the want of sleep. But he can never smile, for he has sold his soul!"
"How do you know?"
"The deacon of St. Paul's has explained it all. And it is a sin to serve such a man any longer. Did he not betray our Bishop, Silverius, to the Emperor, and send him over the sea in chains?"
"And lately he accused sixty priests, Orthodox and Arian, of treason, and banished them from the city."
"That is true!"
"And he must have promised the devil that he would torment the Romans."
"But we will endure it no longer. We are free! He himself has often told us so. I will ask him by what right----"
But the bold speaker stopped short, for the Prefect glanced at the murmuring group as he mounted the rostrum.
"Quirites," he began, "I call upon you all to become legionaries. Famine and treachery--a shameful thing to say of Romans!--have thinned the ranks of our defenders. Do you hear the sound of hammers? A crucifix is being erected to punish all deserters. Rome demands still greater sacrifices from her citizens, fortheyhave no choice. The citizens of other towns choose between surrender or destruction. We, who have grown up in the shadow of the Capitol, have no choice; for more than a thousand years of heroism sanctify this place. Here no coward thought dare arise. You cannot again endure to see the barbarians tie their horses to the columns of Trajan. We must make a last effort. The marrow of heroism ripens early in the descendants of Romulus and Cæsar; and late is spent the strength of the men who drink of the waters of the Tiber. I call upon all boys from their twelfth, all men until their eightieth year, to help to man the walls. Silence! Do not murmur. I shall send my tribunes and the lance-bearers into every house--only to prevent boys of too tender years and too aged men from volunteering their services--then why do you murmur? Does any one know of something better? Let him speak out boldly; from this place, which I now vacate in his favour."
At this, the group at which the Prefect looked became perfectly silent.
But behind him, amid those whom his eye could not intimidate, there arose a threatening cry:
"Bread!" "Surrender!" "Bread!"
Cethegus turned.
"Are you not ashamed? You, worthy of your great name, have borne so much, and now, when it is only necessary to hold out a little longer, you would succumb? In a few days Belisarius will bring relief."
"You told us so seven times already!"
"And after the seventh time Belisarius lost almost all his ships.
"Which now aid in blocking our harbour!"
"You should name a term; a limit to this misery. My heart bleeds for this people!"
"Who are you?" the Prefect asked the invisible speaker of the last sentence; "you can be no Roman!"
"I am Pelagius the deacon, a Christian and a priest of the Lord. And I fear not man but God. The King of the Goths, although a heretic, has promised to restore to the orthodox the churches of which his fellow-heretics, the Arians, have deprived them, in every town which surrenders. Three times already has he sent a herald to the citizens of Rome with the most lenient proposals--they have never been permitted to speak to us."
"Be silent, priest! You have no fatherland but heaven; no people but the communion of saints; no army but that of the angels. Manage your heavenly kingdom, but leave to men the kingdom of the Romans."
"But the man of God is right!"
"Set us a term."
"A short one!"
"Till then we will still hold out."
"But if it elapse without relief----"
"Then we will surrender!"
"We will open the gates."
But Cethegus shunned this thought. Not having received news from the outer world for weeks, he had no idea when Belisarius could possibly arrive at the mouth of the Tiber.
"What!" he cried. "Shall I fix a term during which you will remain Romans, and after which you will become cowards and slaves! Honour knows no term!"
"You speak thus, because you do not believe in the reinforcements."
"I speak thus, because I believe inyou!"
"But we will have a term. We are resolved. You speak of Roman freedom! Are we free, or are we bound to obey you like your slaves? We demand a term, and we will have it."
"We will have it!" repeated a chorus of voices.
Before Cethegus could reply, the sound of trumpets was heard from the south-eastern corner of the Forum.
From the Via Sacra advanced a crowd of people, citizens and soldiers; in their midst were two horsemen in foreign armour.
Lucius Licinius galloped before them, sprang off his horse, and mounted the tribune.
"A herald from the Goths! I arrived too late to prevent his entrance as usual. The famished legionaries at the Tiburtinian Gate opened it for him."
"Down with him! He must not speak," cried the Prefect, rushing from the tribune and drawing his sword.
But the people guessed his intentions. They surrounded the herald with cries of joy, protecting him from the Prefect.
"Peace!"
"Hail!"
"Bread! Peace! Listen to the herald!"
"No! do not listen to him!" thundered Cethegus. "Who is Prefect of Rome, he or I? Who defends this city? I, Cornelius Cethegus Cæsarius; and I tell you, do not listen!"
And he tried to make a way for himself.
But, thick as a swarm of bees, women and old men threw themselves into his path, and the armed citizens surrounded the herald.
"Speak, herald!" they cried; "what bring you?"
"Peace and deliverance!" cried Thorismuth, and waved his white wand. "Totila, King of the Italians and the Goths, sends you greetings and demands a safe-conduct into the city, in order to tell you important news and to announce peace."
"Hail to King Totila!"
"We will hear him. He shall come!"
Cethegus had hastily mounted his horse, and now ordered his trumpeters to blow a flourish.
At this well-known sound, all became quiet.
"Hear me, herald! I, the governor of this city, refuse a safe-conduct. I shall treat every Goth who enters this city as an enemy."
But at these words a cry of rage burst from the multitude.
"Cornelius Cethegus, are you our officer or our tyrant? We are free. You have often vaunted the majesty of the Roman people. And the Roman people command that the King shall be heard. Do we not, people of Rome?"
"We do!"
"It is according to law," growled the Quirites.
"You have heard! Will you obey or defy the people of Rome?"
Cethegus sheathed his sword.
Thorismuth and his companion galloped off to fetch the King.
The Prefect signed to the young tribunes to draw near him.
"Lucius Licinius," he said, "go to the Capitol. Salvius Julianus, you will protect the lower river-bolt: the bolt of masts. Quintus Piso, you will defend the chain-bolt. Marcus Licinius, you shall keep the bulwark which protects the ascent to the Capitoline Hill and the way to my house. The mercenaries will follow me."
"What do you intend to do, general?" asked Lucius Licinius, as he was preparing to obey the order.
"Attack and destroy the barbarians."
There were but fifty horsemen and about a hundred lance-bearers to follow the Prefect, when he had sent away the tribunes.
Meanwhile the people had waited anxiously for the sound of the Gothic horns.
At last they were heard, and presently there appeared Thorismuth and six horn-blowers; Wisand the bandalarius, carrying the royal blue banner of the Goths; the King, accompanied by Duke Guntharis and Earl Teja; and about ten other leaders, almost all without weapons; only Earl Teja displayed his broad and dreaded axe.
As this procession was on the point of setting forth from the Gothic encampment, to ride through the Metronian Gate into the city, Duke Guntharis felt some one pull his mantle, and looking down, beheld a boy or youth, with short and curly brown hair and blue eyes, standing near his horse, with a shepherd's staff in his hand.
"Art thou the King? No, thou art not he. And that, that is brave Teja, the Black Earl, as the songs call him!"
"What wouldst thou with the King, boy?"
"I would fight for him."
"Thou art still too tender. Go, and return two summers hence. And, meanwhile, guard thy flocks."
"I may be young, but I am no longer weak, and I have guarded the flock long enough. Ha! I see that that is the King!" and he went up to Totila, and bowed gracefully, saying:
"By thy leave, O King!"
And he caught the bridle of the horse to lead it, as if it were a matter of course.
The King looked amused, and smiled at the boy.
And the boy led his horse.
But Guntharis thought: "I have seen that face before! But no, it is only a resemblance; yet such a resemblance I have never seen in my life. And how noble is the young shepherd's carriage!"
"Hail to King Totila! Peace and salvation!" cried the people, as the Goths entered the city.
But the young guide looked up into the King's shining countenance, and sang in a soft sweet voice:
"Cunning Cethegus:Tricks will not serve thee!Teja the terribleDaunts thy defiance.And brightly arises,Like morning and May-time,Like night from the darkness,The favourite of heaven,The bright, and the beautifulKing of the Goths!To him are wide openedAll halls and all hearts;To him, overpowered,Yield Winter and Woe!"
When the King entered the Forum, there fell a dead silence upon the people.
But Cethegus, who had expected this, immediately took advantage of it. He urged his horse into the crowd and cried:
"What would you, Goth, in this my city?"
Totila cast one flaming look at him, and then turned away.
"WithhimI speak, for evermore, only with my sword! With him, the threefold liar and murderer! ToyouI speak, unhappy and befooled inhabitants of Rome! Your sufferings wring my heart. I come to end your misery. I come without arms, for I am safer, trusting to the honour of Romans, than protected by sword and shield."
He paused.
Cethegus no more attempted to interrupt him.
"Quirites," continued Totila, "you yourselves have truly acknowledged that I might long since have stormed your walls with my hosts. For now you have but stones, and no men to defend them. But if Rome were carried by storm, then Rome would burn; and I confess that I would rather never enter Rome, than enter to find it in ashes. I will not reproach you with the manner in which you have requited the kindness of Theodoric and the Goths. Have you forgotten the time when you coined your gold with the grateful inscription, 'Roma felix'? Truly you are punished enough; more heavily punished by hunger, pestilence, and the yoke of the Byzantines and that demon Cethegus, than by the severest penalty which we could have inflicted. More than eight thousand people--women and children not included--have perished. Your deserted houses fall into ruins; you greedily pluck the grass which grows in your temples; despair walks your streets with hollow eyes; famished mothers--Roman mothers--have devoured the flesh of their own children. Until this day, your resistance was heroic, although lamentable. But henceforward it is madness. Your last hope was placed in Belisarius. Then hear: Belisarius has sailed from Sicily to Byzantium. He has deserted you."
Cethegus ordered the trumpets to be sounded, in order to drown the groans of the multitude.
For some time it was all in vain, but at last the brazen tones conquered.
When all was quiet the Prefect cried:
"It is a lie! Do not believe such barefaced lies!"
"Have the Goths, have I, ever lied to you, Romans? But you shall believe your own eyes and ears. Come forward, man, and speak. Do you know him?"
A Byzantine in rich armour was led forward by the Gothic horsemen.
"Konon!"
"The navarchus of Belisarius!"
"We know him!" cried the crowd.
Cethegus turned pale.
"Men of Rome," said the Byzantine, "Belisarius, the magister militum, has sent me to King Totila. I arrived in the camp to-day. Belisarius was obliged to return to Byzantium. On leaving Sicily, he recommended Rome and Italy to the well-known benevolence of King Totila. This was my message to him and to you."
"If this be so," cried Cethegus, with a threatening voice, "then now is the day to prove whether you be Romans or bastards! Mark me well! Cethegus the Prefect will never, never surrender his Rome to the barbarians! Oh I think once more of the time when I was your all! When you exalted my name above those of the saints! Who has given you, for years, work, bread, and, what is more, weapons? Who protected you--Belisarius or Cethegus?--when these barbarians encamped by millions before your walls? Who saved Rome, with his heart's blood, from King Witichis? For the last time I call you to the combat! Do you hear me, grandchildren of Camillus? As he once, solely by the might of the Roman sword, swept the Gauls, who had already taken the city, away from the Capitol, so will I sweep away these Goths! Follow me! We will sally forth and let the world see what is possible to Roman valour when led by Cethegus and despair. Choose!"
"Aye, choose!" cried Totila, raising himself in his stirrups. "Choose between certain destruction or certain freedom. If you once more follow this madman, I can no longer protect you. Listen to Earl Teja, who stands at my right hand. You know him, I think. I can no longer protect you."
"No," cried Teja, raising his mighty axe, "then, by the God of Hate, no more mercy! If you refuse this last offer, not a life will be spared within these walls. I, and a thousand others, have sworn it!"
"I offer you complete immunity, and will prove a mild and just king to you. Ask Neapolis what I am! Choose between me and the Prefect!"
"Hail to King Totila! Death to the Prefect!" was the unanimous acclamation.
And, as if at a signal, the women and children, with uplifted hands, threw themselves on their knees; while all the armed inhabitants raised their weapons threateningly, and many a spear was hurled at the Prefect. They were the very weapons which he himself had given to the people.
"They are dogs--no Romans!" exclaimed Cethegus, with disdainful fury, and turned his horse. "To the Capitol!"
And his horse, with a sudden leap, cleared the row of kneeling and screaming women. Through a shower of darts which the Romans now sent after him galloped the Prefect, riding down the few who had courage enough to try to stop him.
His crimson crest soon disappeared in the distance.
His companions galloped swiftly after him. The lance-bearers on foot retreated in good order, now and then turning and levelling their spears. Thus they reached the lofty bulwark which, held by Marcus Licinius, protected the ascent to the Capitol, and the way to the Prefect's house.
"What next? Shall we pursue?" the citizens asked the King.
"No--stay. Let all the gates be opened. Wagons laden with meat, bread, and wine stand ready in the camp. Let them be brought into all parts of the city. Feed the people of Rome for three whole days. My Goths shall keep watch to prevent excess."
"And the Prefect?" asked Duke Guntharis.
"Cornelius Cethegus, the ex-Prefect of Rome, will not escape the vengeance of God," cried Totila, turning away.
"And not mine!" cried the shepherd-boy.
"And not mine!" said Teja, and galloped after the King.
Most of the quarters of the city of Rome had now fallen into the hands of the enemy.
Cethegus was in possession of that part of the city which extended on the right bank of the Tiber from the Mausoleum of Hadrian in the north to the Porta Portuensis in the south, near which were situated the two bolts across the river.
On the left bank the Prefect held only the small but dominating quarter west of the Forum Romanum, of which the Capitol formed the centre. This quarter was enclosed by walls and high bulwarks which stretched from the shore of the Tiber at the foot of the Capitoline Hill, and round the hill eastwards, to the Forum of Trajan in the north; while at the back and westwards from the Capitol, they passed between the Circus Flaminius and the Theatre of Marcellus (abandoning the first and enclosing the last), and ended at the Fabrician Bridge and the Island of the Tiber.
The King had left the Forum, and the rest of the day was spent by the inhabitants of the city in feasting and rejoicing.
The King caused eighty wagons, each drawn by four oxen, to be drawn up in all the principal squares and places of those parts of the city which had surrendered. And round about these wagons, upon the pavement or upon speedily-erected wooden benches, lay the famishing population, raising their voices in thanks to God, the saints, and the "good King."
The Prefect had at once closed all the gates which led from those parts of the city occupied by the Goths intohisRome; particularly the approaches from the Forum Romanum to the Capitol, and the Flumentanian, Carmentalian and Ratumenian Gates. He caused them all to be barricaded, and divided the few soldiers he had at his command among the most important points of defence.
He held much about the same part of Rome as he had before occupied under and against Belisarius.
"Salvius Julianus must have another hundred Isaurians to protect the bolt of masts on the river," he commanded. "The Abasgian bowmen must hasten to join Piso at the bolt of chains. Marcus Licinius will remain on the bulwark of the Forum."
But now Lucius Licinius announced that the rest of the legionaries, who had not been present at the scene on the Forum, because they had been on duty in the now barricaded portion of the city, were become very unruly.
"Ah," cried Cethegus, "the odour of the roast meat for which their comrades sold their honour, tickles their nostrils! I come."
And he rode up to the Capitol, where the legionaries, about five hundred men, were standing in their ranks with a very gloomy and threatening aspect.
Looking at them with a searching eye, Cethegus slowly rode along their front.
At last he spoke.
"For you I had reserved the fame of having defended the Lares and Penates of the Capitol against the barbarians. I hear, indeed, that you prefer the joints of beef below there. But I will not believe it. You will not desert the man who, after centuries of helplessness, has again taught the Romans how to fight and conquer. Whoever will stand by Cethegus and the Capitol--let him raise his sword."
But not a blade was seen.
"Hunger is a more powerful god than the Capitoline Jupiter," said Cethegus contemptuously.
A centurion stepped forward.
"It is not that, Prefect of Rome. But we will not fight against our fathers and brothers who are on the side of the Goths."
"I ought to keep you as hostages for your fathers and brothers, and when they storm the bulwarks, throw to them your heads! But I fear it would not stop them in their enthusiasm, which comes from their stomachs! Go--you are not worthy to save Rome! Open the gate, Licinius. Let them turn their backs upon the Capitol and honour!"
And the legionaries marched away, all but about a hundred men, who stood still irresolutely, leaning on their spears.
"Well, what do you want?" cried Cethegus, riding up to them.
"To die with you, Prefect of Rome!" cried one of them.
And the others repeated: "To die with you!"
"I thank you! Do you see, Licinius, a hundred Romans! Are they not enough to found a new Roman Empire?--I will give you the post of honour; you shall defend the bulwark to which I have given the name of Julius Cæsar."
He sprang from his horse, threw the bridle to Syphax, called his tribunes together, and spoke:
"Now listen to my plan."
"You have a plan already?"
"Yes. We will attack! If I know these barbarians, we are safe for to-night from any assault. They have won three quarters of the city. Before they think of the last quarter, their victory must be celebrated in a hundred thousand tipsy bouts. At midnight the whole company of yellow-haired heroes and drinkers will be immersed in feasting, wine, and sleep; and the hungry Quirites will not be behindhand in excess. Look! How they feast and sing below there--crowned with flowers! And very few barbarians have yet entered the city. That is our hope of victory. At midnight we will sally forth from all our gates--they will not dream of an attack from such a minority--and slay them in their revels."
"Your plan is bold," said Lucius Licinius. "And if we fall, the Capitol will be our tombstone!"
"You learn from me words as well as sword-strokes," said Cethegus, smiling. "My plan is desperate, but it is the only one now possible. Is the watch set? I will go home and sleep for a couple of hours. No one must rouse me before that time. In two hours come and wake me."
"You can sleep at such a moment, general?"
"Yes; Imust. And I hope I shall sleep soundly. I must have time to collect myself--I have just yielded the Forum Romanum to the barbarian King! It was too much! I need time to recover myself. Syphax, I asked yesterday if no more wine was to be had on the right bank of the Tiber?"
"I have been to seek some. There is yet a little in the temple of your God; but the priests say that it is dedicated to the service of the altar."
"That will not have spoiled it! Go, Lucius, and take it from the priests. Divide it amongst the hundred men on the bulwark of Cæsar. It is the only thing that I can give them to show my gratitude."
Followed by Syphax, Cethegus now rode slowly home.
He stopped at the principal entrance to his house.
In answer to the call of Syphax, Thrax, a groom, opened the gate.
Cethegus dismounted and stroked the neck of his noble charger.
"Our next ride will be a sharp one, my Pluto--to victory or in flight! Thrax, give him the white bread which was reserved for me."
The horse was led into the stables near at hand. The stalls were empty. Pluto shared the spacious building only with the brown horse belonging to Syphax. All the Prefect's other horses had been slaughtered and devoured by the mercenaries.
The master of the house passed through the splendid vestibule and atrium into the library.
The old ostiarius and secretary, the slave Fidus, who was past carrying a spear, the only domestic in the house. All the slaves and freedmen were upon the walls--either living or dead.
"Reach me the roll of Plutarch's Cæsar, and the large goblet set with amethysts--it scarcely needed their decoration--full of spring water."
The Prefect stayed in the library for some time. The old servant had lighted the lamp, filled with costly oil of spikenard, as he had been accustomed to do in times of peace.
Cethegus cast a long look at the numerous busts, Hermes, and statues, which cast sharp shadows along the exquisite mosaic pavement.
There, upon pedestals or brackets, on which were inscribed their names, stood small marble busts of almost all the heroes of Rome, from the mythic Kings to the long rows of Consuls and Cæsars, ended by Trajan, Hadrian, and Constantine.
The ancestors of the "Cethegi" formed a numerous group.
An empty niche already contained the pedestal upon which his bust would one day stand--the last on that side of the room, for he was the last of his house.
But on another side there was a whole row of arches and empty niches, destined for future scions of the family, not by marriage, but by adoption, should the name of Cethegus be continued into more fortunate generations.
As Cethegus walked slowly past the rows of busts, he chanced to look at the niche destined to contain his own, and, to his astonishment, saw that it was not empty.
"What is that?" he asked. "Lift up the lamp, secretary. Whose is that bust standing in my place?"
"Forgive, master! The pedestal of that bust, one of the ancients, needed reparation. I was obliged to remove it, and I placed it in the empty niche to keep it from harm."
"Show a light. Still higher. Who can it be?"
And Cethegus read the short inscription upon the bust: "Tarquinius Superbus, tyrant of Rome, died in exile; banished from the city by the inhabitants on account of his monstrous despotism. A warning to future generations."
Cethegus, in his youth, had himself composed this inscription.
He took the bust away, and placed it on one side.
"Away with the omen!" he cried.
Lost in thought, he entered his study.
He leaned his helm, shield, and sword against the couch. The slave kindled the lamp which stood on the tortoise-shell table, brought the goblet and the roll of papyrus, and left the room.
Cethegus took up the roll.
But he soon laid it down again. His forced composure could not last; it was too unnatural. In the Roman Forum the Quirites drank with the barbarians to the health of the King of the Goths and the ruin of the Prefect of Rome, the Princeps Senatus! In two hours he was about to attempt to wrest the city from the Goths. He could not fill up the short pause with the perusal of a biography which he almost knew by heart.
He drank thirstily of the water in the goblet.
Then he threw himself upon his couch.
"Was it an omen?" he asked himself. "But there are no omens for those who do not believe in them. 'This is the only omen: to fight for the fatherland,' says Homer. Truly, I fight not alone for my native land; I fight still more for myself. But have not to-day's events disgracefully proved that Rome is Cethegus, and Cethegus is Rome? These name-forgetting Romans do not make Rome. The Rome of to-day is far more Cethegus than the Rome of old was Cæsar. Was not he, too, a tyrant in the eyes of fools?"
He rose uneasily, and went up to the colossal statue of his great ancestor.
"God-like Julius! If I could pray, I would pray now to thee! Help me! Complete the work of thy grandchild. How hard have I striven since the day when the idea of the renewal of thy empire was born within my brain--born full-armed, like Pallas Athene from the head of Jupiter! How have I fought, mentally and physically, by day and by night! And though thrown to the ground seven times by the superior force of two peoples, seven times have I again struggled to my feet, unconquered and unintimidated! A year ago my goal seemed near--so near; and now, this very night, I must fight this fair youth for Rome and for my life! Can it be that I must succumb after such deeds and such exertions? Succumb to the good fortune of a youth! Is it, then, impossible for thy descendant to stand alone for his nation, until he renew both it and himself? Is it impossible to conquer the barbarians and the Greeks? Can not I, Cethegus, stop the wheel of Fate and roll it backward? Must I fail because I stand alone--a general without an army, a king without a nation to support him? Must I yield thy and my Rome? I cannot, will not think so! Did not thy star fade shortly before Pharsalus? and didst thou not swim over the Nile to save thy life, bleeding from a hundred wounds? And yet thou hast succeeded. Again thou hast entered Rome in triumph. It will not go more hardly with thy descendant. No; I will not lose my Rome! I will not lose my house, and this thy God-like image, which has often, like the crucifix of the Christian, filled me with hope and comfort. As a pledge of my success, to thee I will entrust a treasure. Where can anything on earth be safe if not with thee? In an hour of despondency, I was about to give this treasure to Syphax to bury in the earth. But if I lose Rome and this house, this sanctuary, I will lose all. Who can decipher these hieroglyphics? As thou hast kept the letters and the diary, so shalt thou keep this treasure also."
So saying, he drew from the bosom of his tunic, beneath his shirt of mail, a rather large leather bag, filled with costly pearls and precious stones, and touched a spring on the left side of the statue, below the edge of its shield.
A small opening was revealed, out of which he took an oblong casket of beautifully-carved ivory, provided with a golden lock. The casket contained all sorts of writings and rolls of papyrus. He now added the bag.
"Here, great ancestor, guard my secrets and my treasure. With whom should they be safe, if not with thee?"
He touched the spring again, and the statue looked as perfect as before.
"Beneath thy shield, upon thy heart! As a pledge that I trust in thee and my good fortune as thy descendant! As a pledge that nothing shall force me away from thee and Rome--at least for any length of time. If Imustgo--I will return again. And who will seek my secret in the marble Cæsar?"
If the water in the amethyst cup had been the strongest wine, it could not have had a more intoxicating effect than this soliloquy or dialogue with the colossal statue which Cethegus worshipped like a god.
The unnatural strain upon all his mental and physical powers during the last few weeks; the unsuccessful attempt to persuade the people on the Forum; the conception of a new and desperate plan as soon as he had been defeated in the first, and the consuming anxiety with which he awaited its execution, had excited and exhausted the iron nerves of the Prefect to the utmost.
He thought, spoke, and acted as if in a high fever.
Tired out, he threw himself upon his couch at the foot of the statue; and suddenly sleep overcame him.
But it was not the sound sleep which, until now, he had been able to command at will, even after some criminal act or before a dangerous enterprise: the result of a strong constitution which was superior to all excitement.
For the first time his slumber was uneasy, disturbed by changeful dreams, which, like the fancies of a delirious man, chased each other through his brain.
At last the visions of the dreamer took a more concrete form.
He saw the statue at the feet of which he lay, grow and grow. The majestic head rose higher and higher, and passed through the roof of the house. With its crown of laurel it at last penetrated the clouds, and towered into the starry heavens.
"Take me with thee!" sighed Cethegus.
But the demigod replied:
"I can scarcely see thee from this height. Thou art too small! Thou canst not follow me."
And it seemed to Cethegus that a thunderbolt fell and shattered the roof of his house. With a crash the beams fell upon him, burying him under the ruins. The statue of Cæsar also broke and fell.
And crash after crash echoed through the place.
Cethegus woke, sprang up, and looked around in bewilderment.