He thrust her away from him and went growling like a bear into his own apartment, where his voice could be heard cursing the attendants whose dangerous duty it was to divine in an instant what clothes he would wear and to help him into them. He came out naked through the door, saw Marcia talking to Narcissus, laughed and disappeared again. Marcia raised her voice:

"Telamonion! Oh, Telamonion!"

A curly-headed Greek boy hardly eight years old came running from the outer corridor-all laughter-one of those spoiled favorites of fortune whom it was the fashion to keep as pets. Their usefulness consisted mainly in retention of their innocence.

"Telamonion, go in and play with him. Go in and make him laugh. He is bad tempered."

Confident of everybody's good-will, the child vanished through the curtains where Commodus roared him a greeting. Marcia continued talking to Narcissus in a low voice.

"When did you see s.e.xtus last?" she asked.

"But yesterday."

"And what has he done, do you say? Tell me that again."

"He has found out the chiefs of the party of Lucius Septimius Severus. He has also discovered the leaders of Pescennius Niger's party. He says, too, there is a smaller group that looks toward Clodius Albinus, who commands the troops in Britain."

"Did he tell you names?"

"No. He said he knew I would tell you, and you might tell Commodus, who would write all the names on his proscription list. s.e.xtus, I tell you, reckons his own life nothing, but he is extremely careful for his friends."

"It would be easy to set a trap and catch him. He is insolent. He has had too much rein," said Marcia. "But what would be the use?" Narcissus answered. "There would be Norba.n.u.s, too, to reckon with. Each plays into the other's hands. Each knows the other's secrets. Kill one, and there remains the other-doubly dangerous because alarmed. They take turns to visit Rome, the other remaining in hiding with their following of freedmen and educated slaves. They only commit just enough robbery to gain themselves an enviable reputation on the countryside. They visit their friends in Rome in various disguises, and they travel all over Italy to plot with the adherents of this faction or the other. s.e.xtus favors Pertinax-says he would make a respectable emperor- another Marcus Aurelius. But Pertinax knows next to nothing of s.e.xtus' doings, although he protects s.e.xtus as far as he can and sees him now and then. s.e.xtus' plan is to keep all three rival factions by the ears, so that if anything should happen-" he nodded toward the curtain, from behind which came the sounds of childish laughter and the crashing voice of Commodus encouraging in some piece of mischief-"they would be all at odds and Pertinax could seize the throne."

"I wonder whether I was mad that I protected s.e.xtus!" exclaimed Marcia.

"He has served us well. If I had let them catch and crucify him as Maternus, we would have had no one to keep us informed of all these cross-conspiracies. But are you sure he favors Pertinax?"

"Quite sure. He even risked an interview with Flavia t.i.tiana, to implore her influence with her husband. s.e.xtus would be all for striking now, this instant; he has a.s.sured himself that the world is tired of Commodus, and that no faction is strong enough to stand in the way of Pertinax; but he knows how difficult it will be to persuade Pertinax to a.s.sert himself. Pertinax will not hear of murdering Caesar; he says: 'Let us see what happens-if the Fates intend me to be Caesar, let the Fates show how!'"

"Aye, that is Pertinax!" said Marcia. "Why is it that the honest men are all such delayers! As for me, I will save my Commodus if he will let me. If not, the praetorian guard shall put Pertinax on the throne before any other faction has a chance to move. Otherwise we all die-all of us! Severus-Pescennius Niger-Clodius Albinus-any of the others would include us in a general proscription. Pertinax is friendly. He protects his friends. He is the safest man in all ways. Let Pertinax be acclaimed by all the praetorian guard and the senate would accept him eagerly enough. They would feel sure of his mildness. Pertinax would do no wholesale murdering to wipe out opposition; he would try to pacify opponents by the inst.i.tution of reforms and decent government."

"You must beware you are not forestalled," Narcissus warned her. "s.e.xtus tells me there is more than one man ready to slay Commodus at the first chance. Severus, Pescennius Niger and Clodius Albinus keep themselves informed as to what is going on; their messengers are in constant movement. If Commodus should lift a hand against either of those three, that would be the signal for civil war. All three would march on Rome."

"Caesar is much more likely to learn of the plotting through his own informers, and to try to terrify the generals by killing their supporters here in Rome," said Marcia. "What does s.e.xtus intend? To kill Caesar himself?"

Narcissus nodded.

"Well, when s.e.xtus thinks that time has come, you kill him! Let that be your task. We must save the life of Commodus as long as possible. When nothing further can be done, we must involve Pertinax so that he won't dare to back out. It was he, you know, who persuaded me to save Maternus the highwayman's life; it was he who told me Maternus is really s.e.xtus, son of Maximus. His knowledge of that secret gives me a certain hold on Pertinax! Caesar would have his head off at a word from me. But the best way with Pertinax is to stroke the honest side of him -the charcoal-burner side of him-the peasant side, if that can be done without making him too diffident. He is perfectly capable of offering the throne to some one else at the last minute!"

A step sounded on the other side of the curtain. "Caesar!" Narcissus whispered. As excuse for being seen in conversation with her he began to show her a charm against all kinds of treachery that he had bought from an Egyptian. She s.n.a.t.c.hed it from him.

"Caesar!" she exclaimed, bounding toward Commodus and standing in his way. Not even she dared lay a hand on him when he was in that volcanic mood. "As you love me, will you wear this?"

"For love of you, what have I not done?" he retorted, smiling at her.

"What now?"

She advanced another half-step, but no nearer. There was laughter on his lips, but in his eye cold cruelty.

"My Caesar, wear it! It protects against conspiracy."

He showed her a new sword that he had girded on along with the short tunic of a gladiator.

"Against the bellyache, use Galen's pills; but this is the right medicine against conspiracy!" he answered. Then he took the little golden charm into his left hand, tossing it on his palm and looked at her, still smiling.

"Where did you get this bauble?"

"Not I. One of those magicians who frequent that Forum sold it to Narcissus."

"Bah!" He flung it through the window. "Who is the magician? Name him! I will have him thrown into the carceres. We'll see whether the charms he sells so cheap are any good! Or is he a Christian?" he asked, sneering.

"The Christians, you know, don't approve of charms," Marcia answered.

"By Jupiter, there's not much that they do approve of!" he retorted. "I begin to weary of your Christians. I begin to think Nero was right, and my father, too! There was a wisdom in treating Christians as vermin! It might not be a bad thing, Marcia, to warn your Christians to procure themselves a charm or two against my weariness of their perpetual efforts to govern me! The Christians, I suppose, have been telling you to keep me out of the arena? Hence this living statuary in the corridor, and all this talk about the dignity of Rome! Tscharr-rrh! There's more dignity about one gladiator's death than in all Rome outside the arena! Woman, you forget you are only a woman. I remember that! I am a G.o.d! I have the blood of Caesar in my veins. And like the unseen G.o.ds, I take my pleasure watching men and women die! I loose my javelins like thunderbolts-like Jupiter himself! Like Hercules-"

He paused. He noticed Marcia was laughing. Only she, in all the Roman empire, dared to mock him when he boasted. Not even she knew why he let her do it. He began to smile again, the frightful frown that rode over his eyes dispersing, leaving his forehead as smooth as marble.

"If I should marry you and make you empress," he said, "how long do you think I should last after that? You are clever enough to rule the fools who squawk and jabber in the senate and the Forum. You are beautiful enough to start another siege of Troy! But remember: You are Caesar's concubine, not empress! Just remember that, will you! When I find a woman lovelier than you, and wiser, I will give you and your Christians a taste of Nero's policy. Now-do you love me?"

"If I did not, could I stand before you and receive these insults?" she retorted, trusting to the inspiration of the moment; for she had no method with him.

"I would willingly die," she said, "if you would give the love you have bestowed on me to Rome instead, and use your G.o.dlike energy in ruling wisely, rather than in killing men and winning chariot races. One Marcia does not matter much. One Commodus can-"

"Can love his Marcia!" he interrupted, with a high-pitched laugh. He seized her, nearly crushing out her breath. "A Caius and a Caia we have been! By Jupiter, if not for you and Paulus I would have left Rome long ago to march in Alexander's wake! I would have carved me a new empire that did not stink so of politicians!"

He strode into the anteroom where all the gladiators waited and Narcissus had to follow him-well named enough, for he was lithe and muscular and beautiful, but, nonetheless, though taller, not to be compared with Commodus-even as the women, chosen for their good looks and intelligence, who hastened to reappear the moment the emperor's back was turned, were nothing like so beautiful as Marcia.

In all the known world there were no two finer specimens of human shapeliness than the tyrant who ruled and the woman whose wits and daring had so long preserved him from his enemies.

"Come to the arena," he called back to her. "Come and see how Hercules throws javelins from a chariot at full pelt!"

But Marcia did not answer, and he forgot her almost before he reached the entrance of the private tunnel through which he pa.s.sed to the arena.

She had more accurately aimed and nicely balanced work to do than even Commodus could do with javelins against a living target.

VII. MARCIA

In everything but t.i.tle and security of tenure Marcia was empress of the world, and she had what empresses most often lack-the common touch. She had been born in slavery. She had ascended step by step to fortune, by her own wits, learning by experience. Each layer of society was known to her-its virtues, prejudices, limitations and peculiar tricks of thought. Being almost incredibly beautiful, she had learned very early in life that the desired (not always the desirable) is powerful to sway men; the possessed begins to lose its sway; the habit of possession easily succ.u.mbs to boredom, and then power ceases. Even Commodus, accordingly, had never owned her in the sense that men own slaves; she had reserved to herself self-mastery, which called for cunning, courage and a certain ruthlessness, albeit tempered by a reckless generosity.

She saw life skeptically, undeceived by the fawning flattery that Rome served up to her, enjoying it as a cat likes being stroked. They said of her that she slept with one eye open.

Livius had complained in the Thermae to Pertinax that the wine of influence was going to Marcia's head, but he merely expressed the opinion of one man, who would have liked to feel himself superior to her and to use her for his own ends. She was not deceived by Livius, or by anybody else. She knew that Livius was keeping watch on her, and how he did it, having shrewdly guessed that a present of eight matched litter- bearers was too extravagant not to mask ulterior designs. She watched him much more artfully than he watched her. Her secret knowledge that he knew her secret was more dangerous to him than anything that he had found out could be dangerous to her.

The eight matched litter-bearers waited with the gilded litter near a flight of marble steps that descended from the door of Marcia's apartments in the palace to a sunlit garden with a fountain in the midst. There was a crowd of servants and four Syrian eunuchs, sleek offensive menials in yellow robes; two lictors besides, with fasces and the Roman civic uniform-a scandalous abuse of ancient ceremony-ready to conduct a progress through the city. But they all yawned. Marcia and her usual companion did not come; there was delay-and gossip, naturally.

A yawning eunuch rearranged the bowknot of his girdle.

"What does she want with Livius? He usually gets sent for when somebody needs punishing. Who do you suppose has fallen foul of her?"

"Himself! He sent her messenger back with word he was engaged on palace business. I heard her tell the slave to go again and not return without him! Bacchus! But it wouldn't worry me if Livius should lose his head! For an aristocrat he has more than his share of undignified curiosity- forever poking his sharp nose into other people's business. Marcia may have found him out. Let's hope!"

At the foot of the marble stairway, in the hall below Marcia's apartment, Livius stood remonstrating, growing nervous. Marcia, dressed in the dignified robes of a Roman matron, that concealed even her ankles and suggested the demure, self-conscious rect.i.tude of olden times, kept touching his breast with her ivory fan, he flinching from the touch, subduing irritation.

"If the question is, what I want with you, Livius, the answer is, that I invite you. Order your litter brought."