Chapter XXI
“THE prisoner at Capri confers new honors on his jailer, O Livilla,” said Sejanus, with an evil smile, after he had received the letter from Tiberius offering him the consulship. “He begins to fear me.”
“As consul, my Sejanus, there is nothing thou canst not do!” replied Livilla.
“’Twill but serve to legalize the things that I now do covertly,” he responded.
“Perchance, in his increasing years, Tiberius will make thee co-emperor?” suggested Livilla.
“Long since should I have seized the throne,” said Sejanus. “I have been too lenient towards him. But thou must marry me at once, my love. Then usurpation will seem less harsh to the people.”
“Are the soldiers still loyal to thee?” asked Livilla.
“Ay, my love, loyalty is easily bought with gold,” he replied.
“But if thou becomest emperor, what will become of Tiberius?” she inquired.
“On the day we wed, he dies,” contemptuously responded Sejanus.
“Then there are Agrippina and her sons Drusus and Caligula?” she added.
“They shall also die,” he said with cold-blooded indifference. “Now, my Livilla, thou shalt become an empress! Thy little son, Tiberius, shall be brought from Capri, and educated as the future ruler. Therefore hail to thee, O mother of a line of emperors! Hail to thee! Our lives, my love, must be united in matrimony. Our ambitious plans have been too intricately interwoven for us longer to live separated.”
“Be it as thou wishest, my love,” she acquiesced, dazzled by the promise of so much glory.
“Thy beauty, my captivating divinity, fades not with time,” he added. “Rather does it become more radiant as the years go by. Ah, Livilla, through the years of thy married life I have loved thee. In thy widowhood have I loved thee less? My love is still fresh to-day.”
“I too have loved thee, Sejanus,” she murmured, as he kissed her lips. “Ah, thou rulest my life!”
“Nay, my love, as empress thou shalt rule me. But what wouldst thou have me do for thee?” he asked.
“There is only one request I would make; send Lygdus away,” she answered.
“Dost thou fear him, my love?”
“Ay, his face torments me,” replied the guilty woman. “But how progresses the search for Gyges?”
“One of my soldiers living at Casinum admired four stallions that were being driven by a boy,” said Sejanus. “Upon inquiry, it was learned that an obscure Greek lodging in a farm-house had trained these horses. The boy’s name was Aldo. He worked for Gyges in the stables of the Circus. Aldo was arrested and questioned about his master. The little lad even suffered torture, but his lips remained sealed. A Greek answering the description of Gyges travelled to Capri. Another went to Tusculum. By to-morrow the charioteer will be captured.”
“Dost thou not fear him?” she asked.
“I fear no one,” he replied with a defiant air. “When we are absolute rulers, my love, none of our enemies shall escape us. This charioteer perchance knows nothing. He is the lover of Gannon’s sister. Ah! but trust in me, my love. The plans of Sejanus never fail. Have I not rid the city of our enemies? Everything I have done is for thee. What have I not done to possess thee? What will I not do to retain thee?”
“Ah, my love, of a truth thou hast been afaithful lover. Be now a faithful husband. My love for thee is also as strong as when I first yielded my heart to thy power.”
“’Tis no stronger than the love I bear thee, my Livilla. But I must return to the camp,” he suddenly added, as he kissed her lips and withdrew from her embrace. “Farewell, sweet heart! Future joys be thine!”
“Farewell, O my lover!” she responded, looking at him lovingly with her dreamy eyes.
After another lingering kiss Sejanus departed. Escorted by his guards, he proceeded towards the camp. As he passed a group of Senators, two of them lowered their gaze. “’Tis an insult!” said Sejanus to himself, hastening on his way. When he was in his office, he sent for Macro.
“Balbus and Statius have dared to insult me. Arrest them!” sharply commanded Sejanus. “Surely the future consul shall brave no affronts from such men! Perchance a new plot is forming against the emperor and me. Be vigilant, O Macro! Let the soldiers be prepared to attack if there be need!”
“Ay, my lord,” said Macro, turning away.
“Hold!” roughly ordered Sejanus. “Thou didst go to Tusculum two weeks since.”
“Ay, my lord,” said Macro, watching carefully his master’s face.
“Each time thou didst return the same night. Who was the young man thou didst meet there?” questioned Sejanus.
“’Twas a friend of Antonia,” answered Macro.
“Ay?” added Sejanus, interrogatively. “But thou didst also visit Antonia. Thou didst send a letter for her to Capri by this same young man whom thou didst see at Tusculum.”
“’Tis true, my lord,” said Macro, struggling to regain his composure.
“The passport for the young man was made in the name of Attius,” continued Sejanus. “But I have already told thee that no message should be sent to Capri except through my hands.”
“Ay, my lord; but this was but a trivial affair,” replied Macro, relieved that Sejanus had learned nothing further. “’Twas but a favor for Antonia.”
“Hereafter even trivial things pertaining to the emperor must be seen by me,” said the minister. “What news of the Greek who left Casinum?”
“The one who went to Capua is arrested, my lord; the other, who went to Tusculum, has now been tracked to Rome. On the morrow he will be a prisoner,” said Macro.
“Thou art a faithful servant, O Macro. The office of prefect may soon be thine. On the morrow I will go to the Senate House attended bya guard. Thou shalt accompany me. Let the guards thou choosest be picked men.”
“Ay, my lord,” said Macro, as he left the office.
The day wore on to midnight. In a gorgeously furnished apartment Sejanus again proudly reclines. A satyr-faced lamp burns on a slender bronze pedestal. Nymphs, fauns, and nereids in fantastic attitudes gleam from the shadowy niches in the walls like dancing sprites. Red and yellow oriental silks, carelessly thrown over the chairs, look in the sallow light like tongues of flame. An odor of incense pervades the room. Everything suggests the lower world, and seems like an incantation to the spirits of evil.
Sejanus is happy. The castles-in-the-air which he had so laboriously designed a year ago have now become actual realities. He looks into the past. He sees a man who was a knight with few friends, with few clients. That man was Sejanus. He sees a man leading soldiers, gathering them into one building and becoming more prominent every day. That man was Sejanus. He sees a man respected by the emperor, advanced to almost equal honors, acclaimed by the Roman Senate and people. That man was Sejanus. He looks into the future. He sees a man sitting on a curule chair, receiving petitions and imperiously granting requests. That man is Sejanus. Hefinally sees, ruling the world, one man who has reached the highest possible place for mortal man. That man is the Emperor Sejanus!
On the path of his advancement he has left the corpses of some trivial common people, the dead bodies of the heir Drusus and the Prince Nero. With the eye of his mind he sees along his triumphal road the faces of Tiberius, Agrippina, Drusus, and Caligula—pale and rigid in death. No one now stands between him and the throne. The culmination of his triumph is reached. His foot is raised to take the final step. He takes from a table a golden cup, and with infinite satisfaction quaffs a toast to the genius who presides over his destiny.
The next morning, surrounded by a host of suitors and clients, he proceeds to the Senate House. On his way he is slighted by many of the Senators. He hears suppressed cries of “Murderer,” “Usurper.” Noticing that among the people a decided change has taken place, the suitors and clients, one by one, gradually excuse themselves. When the great minister arrives at the door of the Senate House, he is attended by only his guards and Macro. The soldiers are stationed at the door; Macro and Sejanus enter. The Conscript Fathers, in their soft and majestic woolen togas bordered with purple, have already entered upon the day’s routine. They rise andbow, as Sejanus takes his seat amongst them. Macro stations himself near the raised platform on which the consul is seated.
Statius does not take his seat after he has greeted Sejanus. He walks slowly to the tribunal, and petitions the consul for time to read a communication from the emperor. Then, with careful intonation and impressive gestures, he reads the charge of treason against Sejanus. Overwhelmed by this stupendous charge, Sejanus interrupts the speaker. The consul rises quickly from his curule chair and commands silence. As Statius continues reading the letter, all the Senators near Sejanus withdraw to the other side of the house. Left all alone, Sejanus shouts in rage, “’Tis a forgery!”
“There is the emperor’s seal!” cries Statius, in a loud tone, pointing to the scroll stamped with the emperor’s seal.
At this point Macro, accompanied by two soldiers, approaches Sejanus. The face of the sub-prefect is pale and determined. Drawing his sword and grasping the shoulder of the stupefied minister, he shouts, “I arrest thee in the name of the emperor!”
“I demand a trial!” yells Sejanus.
“’Tis too late,” replies Macro. “Here is thy sentence of death.”
Sejanus struggles as the soldiers drag him fromthe Senate Chamber. Outside, cries, groans, and curses are heaped upon him by the same people who but yesterday hailed him with acclamations.
“’Twas Gyges whom I met at Tusculum, O Sejanus,” hisses Macro, tauntingly, as they walked along. “’Twas Gyges who carried the evidence of the murder of Drusus. ’Twas Gyges who brought the order for thy death; for die thou shalt at once!” exclaims Macro to the terrified minister, as they proceed towards the prison.
With his face livid with fear, Sejanus beseeches his soldiers for help and pity. But their ears are deaf. He is hurried to the Mamertine Prison near by. For a few moments only, he is left to think of his past life; then he is strangled; and his body, still warm, is thrown out upon the Gemmonian Steps. The suppressed hatred of the people now breaks out in all its fury. In the mob that waits outside of the prison are Senators and tribunes. The dead body is soon stripped of its robes, and after being battered about the streets of the city for a day, it is cast into the rushing muddy Tiber.