Chapter IX
HAVING said farewell to Psyche, Gyges stood in deep depression, watching her retreating figure until she disappeared within the grim walls of the camp. Clenching his hands and shaking his head with a profound sigh, he walked away. At first, not knowing where to go, he wandered aimlessly. A confused aggregation of thoughts surged through his mind,—thoughts that were filled with horrible forebodings. He could think of no plan of action. As Gannon had been perplexed by the words of Livilla, and as Alcmaeon and Hera had been troubled by Gannon’s message, so Gyges was now harassed by the same dreadful doubts concerning Lygdus. The manner in which Gannon had communicated with his family made Gyges confident that the message was written when Gannon was under grievous restraint. The words “Have done wrong” sounded in Gyges’ ears like the wail of a crushed spirit. “The poor lad was in the depths of despair when he wrote that,” thought Gyges. “But how could he fall from the camp? Hedid wrong, he was imprisoned—ye gods! Can it be possible that he was murdered? Ay; no one ever falls from the roof of the camp at midnight! He was thrown! O Gannon!—poor, poor lad! What was thy crime?”
“About Lygdus.” These words were the most mysterious part of Gannon’s message; for Gyges understood thoroughly the character of the eunuch. It was Lygdus who had tried to bribe him to lose a race. It was Lygdus who had tried in the most dastardly manner to drug him. It was the detestable Lygdus who had dared to tamper with his horses. Moreover, the eunuch had been accused of murder; but this accusation, by some subtle means, had been prevented from reaching the courts. He was a panderer to the lust of Sejanus. He was a poor, despicable degenerate, who revelled in all the lowest forms of wickedness. “This is the being,” said Gyges to himself, “who has somehow caused Gannon’s death. To the house of Lygdus I will go. Perchance something may be learned there.”
Gyges now directed his steps to the house of the eunuch. A servant answered his knock at the door.
“Is thy master at home?”
“Nay, O stranger.”
“Where can he be found?” asked Gyges.
“I know not,” replied the servant, as if annoyed.
“When did he leave?”
“This morning.”
“When will he return?”
“I know not. Mayhap on the morrow.”
“But I must see him,” said Gyges, anxiously.
“Inquire at the Praetorian Camp,” suggested the servant.
“I come from there,” said Gyges, as he feigned an important air.
“And no one could tell thee?”
“No one,” Gyges replied; but immediately added, “I am the bearer of important news.”
“Carry thy news to Sejanus. He can tell thee the whereabouts of my master. I know nothing,” said the servant, with increasing irritation.
“Then will I go to Sejanus,” said Gyges, as he walked away.
“I have learned nothing there,” he said to himself. “Truly, a servant of Lygdus would not know whither his master would go. Sejanus and his accomplices leave no traces. Ah! a charioteer’s mind works slowly on a clue to an infernal plot! But is this an infernal plot? Gannon wrote: ‘Have done wrong. Read a letter from L to S,’” A new idea suddenly entered the mind of Gyges. “The letter was from ‘L to S,’” he continued to reason. “Canit be that the ‘L’ is for Livilla? Psyche mentioned that name as we were walking together. Ay, I should have gone to the house of Drusus with my inquiry. I will go there immediately.”
There came to his mind, as he walked towards the Esquiline Hill, soothing recollections of the day spent with Psyche. He remembered her graceful dancing, the applause of the other dancers, and the praise of the master. He recalled her joyful exclamations as she passed the shops on the Via Sacra. Psyche’s childish delight at the sight of her new home came to him like the memory of a sweet melody. Like the iridescence of a sunbeam in a crystal dew-drop was the remembrance of the blissful moments spent with her amid the flowers of the peristyle. Again he felt the same pang that he felt when the dead fish checked the flow of the fountain. “But the fountain played again,” he said to himself. He recalled the walk into the Campagna, the meeting of the happy friends, and the walk to Psyche’s home. But suddenly the fearful events that had succeeded broke these happy recollections.
He remembered her surprise and fear at the sight of the soldiers, her nervousness as she requested a little time to go to her room, her courage when she heard the terrible news of Gannon’s death. He remembered how lovinglyshe had kissed Gannon’s tunic, how tenderly she had caressed the little scrap of cloth on which Gannon had painfully inscribed his last sad words to his family. He pictured her as she walked to the barracks, sad but not crushed. His last words to her were a caution against revealing any knowledge of the writing on Gannon’s tunic. She had replied, “I promise thee, O my Gyges.”
“Would that Gannon had not written that message!” he said to himself. “Would that we had not seen it! Ay, would also that Psyche had gone directly home from the theatre! Then she would have seen Gannon. Perchance she would now be free.” But such wishes were worse than useless. In one short day the happiness of the family of Alcmaeon had been utterly destroyed. Gannon had been killed; Alcmaeon, Hera, and Psyche were prisoners. “Had Alcmaeon and Hera seen that writing?” he questioned. “What if Psyche should be tempted to an admission? What if Sejanus and the brutes in the camp should torture her and make her confess? Would she, too, be killed? Perhaps Alcmaeon and Hera were already murdered!” He trembled as he groaned aloud, “It cannot be! It cannot be!”
But Gyges, usually buoyant and hopeful, soon subdued these despondent thoughts. He now argued that Sejanus was justified in questioningGannon’s family. He began to believe that after a few days they would all be free. So occupied had he been in contemplation that he now remembered he had not dined; but notwithstanding his hunger he proceeded on his way to the Esquiline Hill.
When he arrived before the grated entrance to the gardens of Drusus, he called to the gate-keeper, “What ho!”
“What dost thou wish?” asked the gate-keeper, carrying a lantern as he approached the grating.
In the dim light Gyges saw some slaves and litters outlined against the dark foliage of the garden. “I come to inquire of one named Lygdus,” he replied.
“I know of no guest by that name.”
“A guest?” asked Gyges, surprised.
“Ay; there is a dinner in the palace this night,” replied the gate-keeper.
“But Lygdus would not be a guest,” said Gyges.
“A servant arrived this morning to act as cup-bearer. I know not his name,” replied the gate-keeper.
“Tell me, O gate-keeper, was he short and stout, with a sleek face?”
“Ay; he talked in a—”
“The litter of Agrippina!” interrupted anexcited voice from the palace. “The litter of Drusilla!” cried another voice.
Hearing these orders, the gate-keeper abruptly ended his conversation. Gyges retreated to a wall opposite the iron grating. Other calls were now heard. Then there was a confusion of slaves as they marched up the path, carrying the litters on their shoulders. Shortly after, flickering through the trees, were seen lighted torches borne by slaves preceding their masters. As the gate-keeper swung open the gate, Gyges saw the excited faces of Nero and Drusus. Following them, Gyges recognized Claudius, who with heavy step and panting breath tried to keep up with them. One by one the litters were borne out. Finally a cry, “The emperor! The emperor!” was heard, and a gorgeous litter with drawn curtains and surrounded by a guard of soldiers passed down the path and through the entrance. Then there was a silence, broken only by a few stragglers who hastened to join those already departed. To one of these stragglers Gyges said, “A pardon for my boldness, but what has happened?”
“A dire calamity!”
“Some one is dead?”
“Ay; my lord Drusus.”
“The son of the emperor?” asked Gyges, astounded.
“Ay; ’twas sudden! He died at dinner!”
“May the gods be gracious to thee!” said Gyges, as he withdrew.
The words of Gannon’s message again flashed over his mind. They burned into his brain like red-hot irons. Their full import now dawned upon him. He now understood why Sejanus wished to silence the boy’s lips. The terrible possibilities of Psyche’s fate, if she but acknowledged having read Gannon’s writing, tortured him so that he knew not what to do. Finally he decided to go to the house of Alcmaeon, procure the tunic, and destroy the evidence. As he left the palace gate, he heard the tramp of feet on the lava-paved street. He concealed himself in the shadow of the wall and waited. A litter escorted by a few soldiers stopped near him. He saw a man descend, and he heard an order to wait at the entrance. He saw the gate swing open. The faint light of the porter’s lantern revealed the features of the minister and murderer, Sejanus.
At the sight of the man who had caused Gannon’s murder and Psyche’s imprisonment, there rushed over Gyges such a flood of bitterness and hatred that with supreme difficulty he restrained an impulse to spring and strangle him. But Sejanus quickly disappeared in the darkness, and Gyges was again left alone with his thoughts. This time he thought of himself.Questions such as these arose in his mind: “What if Sejanus knew that I was with Psyche when she was arrested? What if he knew that I had read Gannon’s message? What if he knew that I have full insight into his infernal crime?” Gyges trembled. The terrible significance of his position almost overwhelmed him.
But his unhappy meditations were cut short by the return of Sejanus. The minister was not alone. Some one kissed his hand. The massive gate was opened by the porter. As the gate closed, a face from within looked through the iron bars. Gyges started; for in the dim light he recognized the leering features of Lygdus.
As soon as Sejanus and his guards had passed on, Gyges, with trembling speed, fled in the opposite direction.