Chapter XVIII
IT was a beautiful cloudless day in July. The atmosphere quivered like the breath of a fire over the wide Pontine Marshes. The intense, stifling heat of midday seemed to come from the infernal regions. In invisible clouds pestilential vapors, breathing death, floated in the air. Luxuriant vegetation that had fed on decayed plants for centuries gave forth a putrefying and sickening odor. Dragon-flies sported about in the fever-breeding effluvium. For weeks there had been no rain, and the stream that glides through the marsh, like a river of death, was low and nearly stagnant. By the drying up of the stream and the mire the dust had encroached upon the marsh. Here and there small whirlwinds of dust were twisting, like venomous spirits of the air. Through this death-breeding district, which appeared like a huge sore on the fair plains of Campania, led the Via Appia, connecting Terracina with Forum Appii. Over the road the dust had drifted like snow, but unlike snow it did not melt under the burning sun.
At midday the road was always deserted. The beasts of burden and their drivers would rest inthe inns and taverns until the sun slanted its rays. But on this day a cloud of dust moved slowly along the road. From time to time there appeared in the cloud the glitter of a helmet, the flash of a spear. A company of equestrian soldiers were escorting a carriage drawn by two horses. Evidently something urgent kept these soldiers on the road this sultry, stifling day.
There being but a slight breeze, the dust fell where it rose, covering the party with a thin yellow layer. The horses breathed hard and sneezed and snorted as the irritating dust penetrated their nostrils. The sun at its zenith beat unmercifully upon the cavalcade. With eyes half closed and cast down, the men moved on, suffering under the intense heat. No one spoke. The clanking of the iron shoes of the horses and the rattling of the swords of the soldiers were the only sounds that broke the silence.
On, on, they marched, the perspiration rolling like little rivulets down the soldiers’ cheeks, through the coating of dust. The beasts’ flanks were also wet with a mixture of dust and sweat. Occasionally the officer in charge would give an order so as to encourage the men. Some of the horses began to stumble as they dragged one foot after another. One of them with its sides bloody from the constant spurring of its rider, was gradually left behind the others. The rider dismounted,and with the flat of his sword began to beat the beast. After vain efforts to keep up, the poor horse finally stumbled and dropped upon the burning road to die. The rider proceeded on foot. The sun still relentlessly blazed, and scorched the party. There was no tree along the road, no place where shelter could be found, and there was nothing to do but to travel on.
On, on, on, they went, becoming more and more fatigued as each mile-post was passed. The carriage rolled along the road like a funeral car. From time to time there came from within the drawn curtains the noise of clanking chains. Coughs and gasps, produced by the stifling dust and heat, were mingled with deep and prolonged sighs. When the party arrived at the almost stagnant stream, a boat conveyed the carriage from one side to the other. While the carriage was in the stream, the curtains were drawn aside and one of the occupants looked out, but immediately drew back. The sun burnt too fiercely. The horses walked through the poisonous waters and became slightly refreshed by the passage, but the respite endured only a short time. Again they were on the hot road, proceeding towards Terracina.
The occupants of the carriage were Agrippina and Psyche. Agrippina’s wrists were bound together by chains. She rested her head on Psyche’sshoulder. All night long they had been on the move and she had had no rest.
“Is it not possible to obtain more air?” asked Agrippina.
“I fear not, my lady,” said Psyche, in a tone of forced cheerfulness. “Would that I could bathe thy head with water, but even water is denied us.”
“Ah! these chains are too heavy. Look how they have cut my wrists.”
“Place the weight on the seat, my lady. There—does not that ease thee a little?”
“Ay, my child. Why should I be shackled?” she said, as she ground her teeth. “What do they fear that I will do? They wish to humble me. Ay, they treat me worse than a barbarian!”
“I wish I could but help thee, O my lady.”
“Oh! But this heat is stifling. Feel how it comes through the cover. Ah, I must have water, I must have water, I must have water!” she feverishly stammered.
Psyche noticed a gradual increase of heaviness upon her shoulder. She looked at Agrippina and found that she had fainted. “Stop the carriage!” she cried. “Help! help!”
The order “Halt!” was given, and the party came to a standstill. Through the dust the officer approached the carriage. He heard a call for water.
“My lady has fainted!” cried Psyche. “Quick! Help me! Give me some water!”
The officer poured some wine from a small flagon into a wooden cup. He pushed the cup between the curtains. After a few drops of wine were poured between the lips of Agrippina, she gradually became conscious. The dust having slightly settled, the curtains were drawn aside.
“Cannot this cruel ride be stopped?” asked Agrippina, weakly.
“We cannot stop until we arrive at Terracina,” answered the officer.
“But why such haste? Wouldst thou kill us both?”
“My orders are unmistakable: ‘Proceed, without stopping, to Terracina.’”
“Ay, but who gave these cruel orders?”
“I know not.”
“Hast thou forgotten that along this road I did bear the ashes of Germanicus? Then the people and the soldiers were in mourning. To-day the same soldiers who wept when they saw the widow of that great man deny her a cup of water and a little shade. There is a tavern not far from this stream. Where dost thou procure fresh horses?”
“At that same tavern, my lady,” said the officer, beginning to show some sympathy.
Agrippina and Psyche sat upon the deck of the vessel
“There let us rest and cool ourselves,” she pleaded.
Ignoring the petition, he asked, “Art thou better?”
“Ay, but weak. Take from me these fetters.”
“That I cannot do.”
“Dost thou fear that I shall escape?”
“Nay; but the shackles must be worn until Pandataria is reached.”
“But the hands of this child are free,” she protested.
“Ay, but I cannot help thee. Come!” he said, speaking to his soldiers. “Forward!”
The curtains were drawn together, and the party continued on their way. The prisoners suffered in silence until they arrived at a small inn where the horses were changed. Then they were allowed to alight. But the water they found there was brackish; the wine bitter. Immediately after the horses were changed, the order to proceed was given. As they neared Terracina, the air cooled by the sea gradually began to invigorate them. It was near evening when they neared this small town; but here they were again compelled to move on. They were led down the steep cliffs of Terracina to the shore, placed in a small boat, and rowed to a vessel that awaited them. They were soon on their way to Pandataria.
Refreshed by the salt breezes, Agrippina andPsyche sat upon the deck of the vessel and watched the smooth sea reflecting the setting sun. The great orb was just hovering in glory over the waters, and the skies were aglow with small flaming clouds, clustered near the horizon. The peace that always comes with the sunset hour brooded over the waters.
“What island may that be yonder?” asked Agrippina, turning to the officer who stood near them.
“Ponza, my lady.”
“Ah! ’Tis the island where they have imprisoned Nero.” She looked in the opposite direction and saw another island. “What is that one named?”
“Ischia.”
“Near Capri?” she asked, thinking of the emperor in that beautiful retreat.
“Ay, my lady.”
She said no more, but gazed vacantly at the sea, lost in gloomy meditation.
“Art thou weary, my lady?” asked Psyche, when she saw Agrippina close her eyes.
“Ay, my child; and thou?”
“I too sink under the burden of fatigue. We have travelled fast and far.”
“Ay; we have made the entire journey from Rome in one day. Truly such speed was shown by our ancestors only when the enemy was in ourland. I know not why we were brought here in such haste. Slaves are taken from Terracina to Rome in two days. A descendant of the Divine Caesar is hurried over the same road in one day. Oh that the gods should permit such brutality!”
Again they relapsed into silence. The sun had now disappeared.
The eastern heavens were heraldic blue, merging into a paler blue at the zenith and gradually melting into infinite gradations of purple, pink, and red, as they approached the horizon, where the clouds had now become iridescent, like mother-of-pearl. Towards the land the water was an intense dark blue; towards the west it reflected the celestial colors of the dying day. The first star—the boldest eye of the night—sparkled like a vibrating point of fire. On such a night maidens delight to rest on the hearts of their lovers and breathe the peace of happiness, mothers rejoice in caressing their children. But the emotions of the poor prisoners were not stirred by the influences of this lovely night; instead, they were smothered by the darkness that enshrouded their souls.
When they arrived at the island, night had already descended upon the waters. They soon disembarked, and were conducted to a small, one-storied house. Agrippina said to Psyche, “’Twas here my mother passed her last days, my child.”
“As a prisoner, my lady?”
“Ay,” replied Agrippina, sadly.
“How did she die?” Psyche asked in a soft low voice.
“She was starved to death,” replied Agrippina, in a tone of anguish.
After they had entered the house, the officer removed from Agrippina’s wrists the manacles that had wounded them. A small supply of food was given the prisoners, and then they were shown their sleeping-rooms,—a large room with one window that looked out upon the sea, connected with a smaller room which had no window. Both were plainly furnished with couches andcathedrae. The large room was assigned to Agrippina; the smaller to Psyche. The poor prisoners were soon resting after their terrible journey from Rome.
The morning after the arrival of the prisoners, Agrippina reclined on a couch near the entrance of the house. This building was located on a desolate part of the island. There were no trees to afford inviting shade, and the prisoners were therefore obliged to retreat into the house to escape the fiery rays of the sun. Psyche sat on the tiled floor near her mistress.
“Tell me again thy name, my child,” said Agrippina, with her melancholy eyes resting on Psyche’s beautiful face.
“Psyche, my lady.”
“Thou art a Greek?”
“Ay, my lady.”
“Why wert thou sent with me?”
“Perchance to be thy companion and thy servant, my lady.”
“But who art thou?”
“I was a dancing-maiden. Now I am a prisoner.”
“Art thou the Psyche who danced at Pompey’s Theatre?”
“Ay, my lady.”
“I have seen thee portray Niobe.”
“’Tis the character I loved best to portray.”
“But why art thou a prisoner?”
“I know not, my lady.”
“Where are thy parents?”
“They are also prisoners.”
“And their crime, my child?”
“I know not their crime, my lady. We lived a peaceful life in a small house outside of the city. In one short day our happy family was torn asunder.”
“Hast thou a brother or sister?”
“I had a brother.”
“Where is he?”
“I will answer thee in Greek, my lady. He was murdered!” said Psyche, glancing towards the soldier who guarded them.
“By whom?” asked Agrippina, also speaking in Greek.
“By Sejanus.”
“Sejanus the minister?”
“Ay, my lady. Gannon, my brother, was employed as his secretary.”
“Ah, the atrocious villain has also destroyed thy family!” exclaimed Agrippina.
“I have not seen or heard from my parents or from my betrothed since the day I was led to prison,” said Psyche, sadly.
“Thou wert to have been wed?”
“Ay; to the charioteer named Gyges.”
“Well do I remember the man who drives for the green faction. Often have I seen him from the palace of Antonia.”
“He was also sought for by Sejanus,” said Psyche.
“But there must be some reason for such violence. Why was thy brother killed?” asked Agrippina.
“I will tell thee all I know, my lady. In the office of Sejanus, Gannon was a secretary. He wrote and translated letters. Sometimes he was employed to carry messages. One day he happened to read one. On the night of that same day he was murdered.”
“How, my child?”
“He was thrown from the roof of the Praetorianbarracks. The next day my parents were arrested. At that very hour I was seated with my lover in the peristyle of our new little home. When I returned to my father’s house with Gyges, two soldiers were waiting to conduct me to prison. Perchance my parents are now dead,” she said sadly. “Perchance Gyges, too, is dead.” And she wept bitter tears as she thought of the possibilities of their fate.
“Weep not, my child,” said Agrippina, resting her hand caressingly upon Psyche’s head.
“The last words I had from my brother,” Psyche continued, when she grew calm enough to speak, “were those he had written upon a piece of cloth which he had sewed to the under side of his tunic. By chance only I read them. Gannon’s body had been carried away. His tunic lay in a heap on the floor. I took it up and kissed it and I saw the writing. This was the message he had written: ‘Have done wrong; read a letter from L to S about Lygdus.’ Methought the L must stand for Livilla and the S for Sejanus.”
“Who is Lygdus, my child?”
“Gyges told me that he was a eunuch and a most cunning scoundrel.”
“My son Nero has mentioned a eunuch as being employed by Livilla in her household. I forget the name. When did this happen?”
“Four days before the games of Nero, thy son.”
“The day before Drusus died so suddenly?” inquired Agrippina.
“Is the heir of the emperor, then, dead?” asked Psyche, in surprise.
“Ay, my child,” answered Agrippina, mechanically. Suddenly she clutched Psyche by the shoulder. With a wild stare in her eyes that frightened the young maiden, she said: “Can it be, my child, that Drusus was poisoned? Ay, ’tis true! I have often believed that Livilla and Sejanus were lovers. Ye celestial gods! is it possible that this woman conspired against her husband?”
“Ah, my lady, that accounts for Gannon’s death,” cried Psyche, as the mystery of her arrest became plain; “now do I understand everything.”
“It means more,” said Agrippina, with deep emotion in her words. “Sejanus has murdered Drusus; he has made Tiberius a captive at Capri; he has, by his nefarious plans, charged myself and my sons with treason. O Psyche,” she cried despairingly, “Sejanus will be emperor of Rome! And then there will be no help for us!”
“But can nothing be done?” inquired the trembling girl.
“Letters to or from prisoners are not allowed,” said Agrippina, despondently.
The prisoners had passed but a few days upon the island when one morning the vessel that brought food and orders to the soldiers brought news that created great excitement among the guards. It was early, and the sun had not yet driven the people under cover. Agrippina and Psyche were sitting on the rocks not far from the house.
“Go, my Psyche! See what has caused such excitement among the men!” said Agrippina.
Psyche hastened to the landing and inquired what tidings had come from Rome. She heard the story of the soldiers, and at first stood still, not daring to return to her mistress. Agrippina, seeing her hesitate, arose and went to meet her. At the sight of Agrippina coming towards her, Psyche hastened to her side.
“What has happened, my child?” Agrippina quickly asked.
“I can tell thee better in thy room, O my lady,” said Psyche, with pathetic calmness.
When they had entered the house, Psyche softly said, “’Tis easier to carry news of grief, O sweet lady, to those who are happy than to those already weighed down with sorrow.”
“They have done no further violence to my children?” asked Agrippina, excitedly.
“Let my sharp words be dulled by the love I bear thee, my lady. Rest thee on thy couch.”
“Tell me, my child, what news hast thou?”
“Oh, my gentle mistress, thy son Nero has been strangled at Ponza!” As she said these words, she hid her face in the robe of her mistress. At first Agrippina said nothing. The shock of this terrible news dulled her mind. Her face became white; her eyes frightful. She gasped. She ran her fingers through her hair and acted as if demented. Finally she spoke, but her voice was a hoarse whisper: “And this will be the end of all my children. Was ever woman born who has endured such suffering as mine has been? My cup of bitterness was already full. This added woe but strangles me as I drink. Tears have deserted mine eyes. The springs of my grief are dried up. Oh! my life is an arid desert, and those who have loved and trusted me have left their whitened bones strewn along the pathway of my weary life. What is it that keeps our spirits bound to our bodies when we yearn to tear them asunder?”
“May the mother of the gods comfort thee, O sad and grief-stricken soul!” said Psyche, as she burst into tears of tender sympathy.