A Struggle For Rome Volume I Part 34

"Never," cried Cethegus, "did Venus descend more beautifully upon Paphos!"

Kallistratos clapped his hands.

To the sound of lyre and flute the centre wall of the room, directly opposite the triclinium, parted; four short-robed female dancers, chosen for their beauty, in Persian costume, that is, dressed in transparent rose-coloured gauze, sprang, clas.h.i.+ng their cymbals, from behind a bush of blooming oleander.

Behind them came a large carriage in the form of a fan-shaped sh.e.l.l, with golden wheels, pushed by eight young female slaves. Four girls, playing on the flute, and dressed in Lydian garments--purple and white with gold-embroidered mantles--walked before, and upon the seat of the carriage rested, in a half-lying position, and covered with roses, Aphrodite herself; a blooming girl of enchanting, voluptuous beauty, whose almost only garment was an imitation of Aphrodite's girdle of the Graces.

"Ha, by Eros and Anteros!" cried Ma.s.surius, and sprang down from the triclinium with an unsteady step amidst the group.

"Let us draw lots for the girls," said Piso; "I have new dice made from the bones of the gazelle. Let us inaugurate them."

"Let our festal King decide," proposed Marcus.

"No, freedom! freedom at least in love!" cried Ma.s.surius, and roughly caught the G.o.ddess by the arm; "and music. Hey there! Music!"

"Music!" ordered Kallistratos.

But before the cymbal-players could begin, the entrance-doors were hastily thrown open, and pus.h.i.+ng the slaves who tried to stop him aside, Scaevola rushed in. He was deadly pale.

"You here! I really find you here, Cethegus! at this moment!" he cried.

"What's the matter?" asked the Prefect, quietly taking the wreath of roses off his head.

"What's the matter!" repeated Scaevola. "The fatherland trembles between Scylla and Charybdis! The Gothic Dukes, Thulun, Ibba, and Pitza----"

"Well?" asked Lucius Licinius.

"Are murdered!"

"Triumph!" shouted the young Roman, and let loose the dancer whom he held in his arms.

"A fine triumph!" said the jurist angrily. "When the news reached Ravenna, the mob accused the Queen; they stormed the palace--but Amalaswintha had escaped."

"Whither?" asked Cethegus, starting up.

"Whither! Upon a Grecian s.h.i.+p--to Byzantium."

Cethegus frowned and silently set down his cup.

"But the worst is that the Goths mean to dethrone her, and choose a King."

"A King?" said Cethegus. "Well, I will call the Senate together. The Romans, too, shall choose."

"Whom? what shall we choose?" asked Scaevola.

But Cethegus was not obliged to answer.

Before he could speak Lucius shouted:

"A Dictator! Away, away to the Senate!"

"To the Senate!" repeated Cethegus majestically. "Syphax, my mantle!"

"Here, master, and the sword as well," whispered the Moor. "I always bring it with me, in case of need."

And host and guests, staggering, followed Cethegus, who, the only completely sober man amongst them, was the first out of the house and into the street.

CHAPTER XII.

In one of the small rooms of the Emperor's palace in Byzantium, a short time after the Feast of the Floralia, a little man of insignificant appearance was pacing to and fro, lost in anxious thought.

The room was quiet and lonely. Although outside it was broad daylight, the bay-window, which looked into the court of the extensive edifice, was thickly hung with heavy curtains of gold-brocade. Equally costly stuffs covered the mosaic floor, so that no noise accompanied the footsteps of the solitary inmate.

A softened light filled the room. Relieved against the golden background of the walls, stood a row of small white busts of the Christian Emperors since Constantine. Exactly over a writing divan, hung a large cross of ma.s.sive gold. Whenever the little man pa.s.sed this, he bent before it; for in the middle of the gold, and covered with gla.s.s, a splinter of wood was enclosed, said to be a piece of the true Cross. At last he stopped before a map, which, representing the _orbis Roma.n.u.s_, and traced upon a parchment with a purple border, covered one of the walls.

After a long and searching look, he sighed and covered his eyes with his hands. They were not beautiful, nor was his face n.o.ble; but his features were exceedingly suggestive both of good and evil. Mistrust, cunning and vigilance lay in the restless glance of his deep-set eyes; deep wrinkles, more the result of care than of age, furrowed his projecting forehead and hollow cheeks.

"Who can foresee the result?" he exclaimed, sighing again, and rubbing his long and bony hands. "I am unceasingly impelled to do it. A spirit has entered my bosom, and it warns me repeatedly. But is it an angel of the Lord or a demon? Who can interpret my dream? Forgive, Thou Triune G.o.d, forgive Thy most zealous servant! Thou hast cursed him who interprets dreams. And yet Joseph interpreted the dreams of King Pharaoh, and Jacob saw the heavens open; and their dreams were from Thee. Shall I, dare I venture?"

Again he walked to and fro; and who knows how long he would have continued to do so, had not the purple curtains of the doorway been gently drawn aside. A slave, glittering with gold, threw himself on the ground before the little man, with his arms crossed on his breast.

"Emperor, the patricians whom you summoned have arrived.

"Patience!" said the Emperor to himself, and seated himself upon a couch, of which the supports were made of gold and ivory. "Quick with the shoes and the chlamys!"

The slave drew a pair of sandals with thick soles and high heels upon the Emperor's feet, which added some inches to his height, and threw over his shoulders a rich mantle worked all over with stars of gold, kissing each article as he touched it. After a repet.i.tion of the humble prostration, which had lately been introduced at Byzantium in this aggravated form of Oriental submission, the slave withdrew.

Emperor Justinian placed himself opposite the entrance in the att.i.tude in which he was accustomed to give audience, resting his left arm upon a broken porphyry column from the Temple of Jerusalem.

The curtain at the entrance was again parted, and three men entered, with the same salutation as the slave; and yet they were the first men of the empire, as was shown by their characteristic heads and intellectual features, still more than by their richly-decorated garments.

"We have summoned you," began the Emperor, without noticing their humble greeting, "to hear your advice concerning Italy. You have had all necessary information--the letters of the Queen-regent, and the doc.u.ments of the patriotic party. You have also had three days to reflect. Speak first, Magister Militum."

And he turned to the tallest of the three, a man of stately and heroic figure, clad in a full suit of richly-gilded armour. His well-opened, light-brown eyes were frank and confident; his large, straight nose and full cheeks gave his face an expression of health and strength. There was something Herculean about his broad chest and powerful thighs and arms; but his mouth, in spite of the fierce beard, was mild and good-humoured.

"Sire," he said, in a full, deep-chested voice, "the advice of Belisarius is always, 'Attack the enemy!' At your command, I lately destroyed the Kingdom of the Vandals, in Africa, with fifteen thousand men. Give me thirty thousand, and I will lay the Gothic crown at your feet."

"'Tis well," said the Emperor approvingly. "Your words have done me good. What say you, Tribonia.n.u.s, pearl of jurists?"

The jurist was little shorter than Belisarius, but not so broad-shouldered and stout-limbed. His high, grave forehead, quiet eyes, and expressive mouth, bore witness to a powerful mind.

"Emperor," said he firmly, "I warn you against this war. It is unjust."

Justinian started up indignantly.

"Unjust!--to recover that which belongs to the Roman Empire!"